With Friends Like These... Who Needs Enemies?
I knew life would get even more interesting after Ray and Matt moved here from Australia. So on Saturday night, the three of us and Steve hit up a gay club in the city called Mr. Black. We managed to get past the bouncer, a 200 lb lesbian who could probably bench press a normal-sized sedan and who said "Eeew, look at this bitch" when she saw me. The club was in a basement, and filled with writhing, half-naked men. So already the night was a winner. I don't even know what straight bars look like anymore.
I have to preface the following story by stating for the umpteenth time that Steve is in fact, STRAIGHT. All pictures to the contrary, he does actually prefer women to men. /end obligatory disclaimer that he made me put.
We walked into the joint and added a couple of SoCo shots to our respective tallies of a bottle of wine (for me) and half a bottle of vodka (for Steve). Twenty minutes later we were all on the dance floor and Matt was probably wondering why we were grinding up on him like we had poisonous skin rashes and the antidote was on him. I'm a straight female so it's no big thang but Liquor 1, Steve 0. Some self-fondling and a mini strip-tease later (much to the delight of the almost nude go-go dancers next to us) and the score was Liquor 4, Steve 0.
We headed outside for some air and noting that our friend was completely trashed, did what any good friends would do and made sure he didn't do anything he'd regret. Pause pause pause, NOT. In actuality, Ray and I then spent the next ten minutes alternately bullying, bribing and begging Steve to kiss either Ray or Matt. With tongue. Yes, I know you guys are thinking "Riss you are the worst fucking friend on the planet." I'm not denying it.
Anyhoo, eventually the stakes were set that if I kissed Matt then Steve would too. Inner drunken monologue at this time: "What, you mean I get to kiss a hot guy then watch two hot guys make out? This is the best day ever." Incidentally, Ray is a lucky man (and vice-versa). Matt is a good kisser. Steve still didn't take the bait though, so I guess he's more than 4 Long Islands away from gaydom. Did I mention I got to kiss Matt? Woot! I didn't get in trouble though, apparently gay guys and other girls don't count.
And here was this morning's chat:
Me: I could have sworn I heard that you would kiss Matt if I did. But it's okay. Welcher.
Stevie: What's a welcher?
Me: Someone who doesn't do what they said they would in a bet or agreement
Ray: see also: Steve
Stevie: I don't remember making such a bet
Me: Of course you don't, you were trashed
Ray: steve doesn't remember anything
Stevie: riss (n ): person that takes advantage of drunk, innocent men. See also ray (n).
Ray: that's the definition of a great night out
Me: Yeah, that isn't the definition of "Riss and Ray" that's the definition of "A good Saturday night"
Stevie: *sigh*
Me: Hey, no one told you to down half a bottle of vodka in like 15 minutes.
Ray: or touch yourself at a gay club
Ray: in the middle of the dance floor
Ray: in front of the strippers, like the strippers
Stevie: shit
Me: Or to grind up on Matt. And agree to kiss him.
Ray: and then don't
Me: And to order more shots, when we told you you were already drunk.
Stevie: I did not agree to kiss him!! you know there's this voice inside my head that says: "wait - riss and ray ... TOGETHER?! BAD NEWS, STEVE!!" but I think - No ... they're my best friends. they'll look out for me
Me: "Danger Will Robinson!!!!!"
Ray: dude that'd be an interesting social experiment. get steve fucked up, leave him in a gay bar
Ray: and he has to stay while we all leave
Me: HAHAHAHA
Ray: and we watch via closed circuit camera
Me: And he's wearing no shirt
Stevie: um not funny
Me: And is covered in something sweet
Stevie: shit
Ray: and he's busting to go to the bathroom and the urinals are mirrors
Stevie: you guys are evil
Ray: and it's a foam party
Stevie: is there ice cream?
Stevie: NO WAIT
Me: Yes, on you.
Stevie: I'm NOT PLAYING THIS GAME
Ray: i dunno about ice cream, but there is white stuff on ur chin
Stevie: bastard
Me: There is ice cream but it's in your ass and people have to find out what flavor it is.
Stevie: hahahaha shit
Ray: HAHAHA! you're covered in ice cream and everyone is playing a game called "Complete the banana split"
Me: And your banana doesn't count
Stevie: no please
Ray: FUCK i just coughed my diet pepsi out
Stevie: Really - would people get the wrong idea? yes ... yes, they might.
Man I love these guys so much. Also, I don't know what Americans sound like anymore.
Showing posts with label favorite. Show all posts
Showing posts with label favorite. Show all posts
June 12, 2007
April 9, 2007
Favorite Australia Moments: Volume 1
Favorite Australia Moments: Volume 1
(In no particular order and Volume 2 is coming)
1. Mikey, Steve and Maz's interpretive shark dancing at the Sydney Aquarium's shark and stingray exhibit:
2. Going to Bar/Cub 333 and seeing Prinz and his wife Charito, who I met last year when they came to New York in July. I mentioned to some of the Aussies that for the few days after we had met them, none of my friends could figure out what Charito's name was (becuase of the accents) and we didn't want to ask. So eventually we just settled on "Sara." So for the beginning of my trip, everyone kept saying "Prinz and Sara" hoping to trip me up when I saw them (which was SO not going to happen!!) Except that when I walked up to Prinz at the club he hugged me and said "Riss!!! You remember my wife Sara don't you?" He then gestured to her and she waved while everyone laughed. All I could say was "Oh, fuck." I asked him who had put him up to it and he replied "I don't want to name Ed, but he came up to me and said 'You gotta fuck with Riss.'" Thanks Ed!!!!
3. "Gung Ho-ing" on our way home at nights. We'd walk past this restaurant that had a security camera which fed a television screen facing out. Sometimes there'd be an audience. I have like 3 of these from different nights:
4. On Tuesday night, we all hit up a restaurant where the free-flowing wine was very thoughtfully provided by Ray. Except that we'd also had a little Riesling beforehand and so the subsequent wine packed quite a punch. On the way back to Darling Harbour for dessert, Maz and I are walking back a bit behind everyone else. She whispers to me "Hey Riss, I got you something. But you have to keep quiet okay." So I agree and she shows me this painting and I'm like "When did you get that?" And she says "In the bathroom. I was peeing and thought 'Hey that's really nice. I should get it for Riss.'" I looked at her purse, which she had smuggled it out in and the thing is like a foot tall. But the painting is like 2 feet wide. I fell on the sidewalk laughing and I really thought one of us was going to throw up.
5. Sitting in the car with Girlie, Luke, Steve and Matty, who was driving. Matty is like the most relaxed, patient person ever but Ray's road irritation has been rubbing off on him. At one point he got agitated and let out a very piratey "ARGGH." Which of course, in the re-telling of the story got changed to "ARRGGH, the cars." Now whenever I get annoyed over something, that's what I'm going to say. Even if I'm annoyed about my PSE&G bill or spilt nail polish.
6. I can't do justice to the most beautiful place in Sydney with words so just watch this.
7. Googz and Loan's wedding was amazing. The love that was so present between them and their loved ones sharing in the day was humbling, and so was the fact that it was taking place in such an awe-inspiring setting. They said their vows in the Royal Botanic Gardens, against a backdrop of the Sydney Harbour Bridge and Opera House. Like I said, amazing.
8. Steve is planning to move back to Australia in a few years so a couple of months ago he started looking at Sydney property online. I started digging around the real estate site he was browsing and stumbled upon a house in Annandale, a suburb of Sydney, that I completely fell in love with. The house was on the way to dinner on Wednesday night, so we stopped outside of it. As I was standing out there, I figured how often am I in Sydney and decided to ring their doorbell. A woman answered and I explained that I was visiting from New York and had seen her house online and thought it was the wonderful. Anyway, she let me take a picture in the backyard. See if that ever happens in New York without having to slip someone a twenty.
9. The Blue Mountains are gorgeous. I don't exactly remember seeing blue mountains, which really would have been smurfy (shhh stop groaning) but it's always awe-inspiring to be in the presence of nature's magnificence. Okay I'll stop sounding like National fricken Geographic now. Also, the BK King really enjoyed himself. It was quite a change from serving people breakfast in bed and having to hang around the likes of Drew Rosenhaus.
10. At the Los Angeles airport, we were in the expedited security line because our flight was leaving. As we walked past the line of people still waiting, a group of boys called out to the woman in front of us, asking if she was from Australia. She nodded and they asked her to say something and she nervously laughed and asked what she should say. They exclaimed over her accent and I smirked to myself, knowing Steve wouldn't be able to resist despite his alleged shyness. The boys asked her if it was like a 20-hour flight and Steve makes his accent as thick as possible and replies "It's actually about 23 hours mate." The boys started hooting and hollering and I said "Hey Steve, you just made seven 12-year-old boys cheer in excitement." Incidentally, Australians are as intruiged by the "American accent" as we are by theirs. It's like an EF Hutton commercial when you talk (did I just date myself). I heard more than once from someone listening, "It's like watching a movie!"
Huge ass photo album coming soon.
(In no particular order and Volume 2 is coming)
1. Mikey, Steve and Maz's interpretive shark dancing at the Sydney Aquarium's shark and stingray exhibit:
2. Going to Bar/Cub 333 and seeing Prinz and his wife Charito, who I met last year when they came to New York in July. I mentioned to some of the Aussies that for the few days after we had met them, none of my friends could figure out what Charito's name was (becuase of the accents) and we didn't want to ask. So eventually we just settled on "Sara." So for the beginning of my trip, everyone kept saying "Prinz and Sara" hoping to trip me up when I saw them (which was SO not going to happen!!) Except that when I walked up to Prinz at the club he hugged me and said "Riss!!! You remember my wife Sara don't you?" He then gestured to her and she waved while everyone laughed. All I could say was "Oh, fuck." I asked him who had put him up to it and he replied "I don't want to name Ed, but he came up to me and said 'You gotta fuck with Riss.'" Thanks Ed!!!!
3. "Gung Ho-ing" on our way home at nights. We'd walk past this restaurant that had a security camera which fed a television screen facing out. Sometimes there'd be an audience. I have like 3 of these from different nights:
4. On Tuesday night, we all hit up a restaurant where the free-flowing wine was very thoughtfully provided by Ray. Except that we'd also had a little Riesling beforehand and so the subsequent wine packed quite a punch. On the way back to Darling Harbour for dessert, Maz and I are walking back a bit behind everyone else. She whispers to me "Hey Riss, I got you something. But you have to keep quiet okay." So I agree and she shows me this painting and I'm like "When did you get that?" And she says "In the bathroom. I was peeing and thought 'Hey that's really nice. I should get it for Riss.'" I looked at her purse, which she had smuggled it out in and the thing is like a foot tall. But the painting is like 2 feet wide. I fell on the sidewalk laughing and I really thought one of us was going to throw up.
5. Sitting in the car with Girlie, Luke, Steve and Matty, who was driving. Matty is like the most relaxed, patient person ever but Ray's road irritation has been rubbing off on him. At one point he got agitated and let out a very piratey "ARGGH." Which of course, in the re-telling of the story got changed to "ARRGGH, the cars." Now whenever I get annoyed over something, that's what I'm going to say. Even if I'm annoyed about my PSE&G bill or spilt nail polish.
6. I can't do justice to the most beautiful place in Sydney with words so just watch this.
7. Googz and Loan's wedding was amazing. The love that was so present between them and their loved ones sharing in the day was humbling, and so was the fact that it was taking place in such an awe-inspiring setting. They said their vows in the Royal Botanic Gardens, against a backdrop of the Sydney Harbour Bridge and Opera House. Like I said, amazing.
8. Steve is planning to move back to Australia in a few years so a couple of months ago he started looking at Sydney property online. I started digging around the real estate site he was browsing and stumbled upon a house in Annandale, a suburb of Sydney, that I completely fell in love with. The house was on the way to dinner on Wednesday night, so we stopped outside of it. As I was standing out there, I figured how often am I in Sydney and decided to ring their doorbell. A woman answered and I explained that I was visiting from New York and had seen her house online and thought it was the wonderful. Anyway, she let me take a picture in the backyard. See if that ever happens in New York without having to slip someone a twenty.
9. The Blue Mountains are gorgeous. I don't exactly remember seeing blue mountains, which really would have been smurfy (shhh stop groaning) but it's always awe-inspiring to be in the presence of nature's magnificence. Okay I'll stop sounding like National fricken Geographic now. Also, the BK King really enjoyed himself. It was quite a change from serving people breakfast in bed and having to hang around the likes of Drew Rosenhaus.
10. At the Los Angeles airport, we were in the expedited security line because our flight was leaving. As we walked past the line of people still waiting, a group of boys called out to the woman in front of us, asking if she was from Australia. She nodded and they asked her to say something and she nervously laughed and asked what she should say. They exclaimed over her accent and I smirked to myself, knowing Steve wouldn't be able to resist despite his alleged shyness. The boys asked her if it was like a 20-hour flight and Steve makes his accent as thick as possible and replies "It's actually about 23 hours mate." The boys started hooting and hollering and I said "Hey Steve, you just made seven 12-year-old boys cheer in excitement." Incidentally, Australians are as intruiged by the "American accent" as we are by theirs. It's like an EF Hutton commercial when you talk (did I just date myself). I heard more than once from someone listening, "It's like watching a movie!"
Huge ass photo album coming soon.
April 4, 2007
I've Been To A Land Down Under
I've Been To A Land Down Under
(*sung to the tune of that Men At Work song*)
First and foremost though, CONGRATULATIONS TO MANNY AND JANELLE (and Keiran) whose baby boy was born yesterday morning. They got to the hospital at 6:30 AM and Oliver entered the world at 7 AM. Janelle didn't have time for an epidural so she delivered all 8 lbs 9 oz of him naturally. She's not just a soldier she's Delta Force. Congratulations again and I love you guys. Also, CONGRATULATIONS TO PAUL AND LOAN on their new life together. I wish you both all the best in the world, you absolutely deserve it. Also also, CONGRATS to Min on completing the Forum, I am so happy it gave you everything it gave me. I look forward to how amazing your life is going to be!
* * *
Dude, I'm fucking tired. I was determined not to give in to the evil Jet Lag Demon and so I stayed up as long as possible last night instead of submitting to a 14-hour coma. But it's kicking my ass anyway. It feels as if I'm trying to think with a pile of boiled cabbage instead of an actual brain. So I'll just give a rundown on what I've been doing for the past week.
Day 1 (Sunday March 25, 2007)
I don't die on the plane and we arrived in Sydney at 6:30 AM after a 21-hour flight with an hourlong layover in L.A.
Brunch at the Queen Victoria Building.
Drinks at the Watershed in Darling Harbour. Drinks all afternoon. Bar had a one shot per hour rule so we'd pop into the one next door then come back.
Pizza and wine at Ray and Matt's apartment
More drinks at City Extra in Sydney Harbour. Photos up and down the harbour.
Day 2 (Monday, March 26, 2007)
Early breakfast at Mickey D's (their shit is actually healthy there)
A ferry ride then parasailing at Manly Beach
Lunch at the Bavarian Bier Cafe on the water
Shopping at the Manly Esplanade (did I get that word right)
"Swimming" in the ocean and by "swimming" I mean "getting body slammed into the water and having my head held under the waves" by Steve.
Dinner at some restaurant where you get steak, mashed potatoes and a glass of wine or beer for $5.
Day 3 (Tuesday, March 27, 2007)
Breakfast, lunch and shopping at Bondi Beach
Dinner at a Thai place. Maz "borrows" a painting off the bathroom wall at the restaurant to give me as a souvenir. The 10-minute walk to Darling Harbour takes 45 minutes because we keep falling into bouts of hysterical laughter.
Dessert at an ice cream/gelati place
Steve and I wade into the fountain at Darling Harbour then race across some random bridge. Since he's speedy, he gives me the handicap of trading shoes. He's wearing sneakers and I was wearing leopard print high-heeled sandals. Yes, there are pictures.
Gung Ho Dance #1 (Some restaurant we walked by had a security cam that fed a television which faced out to the street. You can imagine what we did with this, but there's also video.)
Day 4 (Wednesday, March 28, 2007)
Went hiking in the Blue Mountains.
Stopped by the house in Annandale that I've been lusting after for the past three months. Owner let me take a picture in the backyard.
Dinner at some random Filipino place with the Stevie D clan.
Drinks at Different Drummer.
More drinks and dancing at Empire Hotel, which we ended up at because Ed wanted to show me Kings Cross, the "hooker section" of Sydney. People had to pee so we popped into Empire to use the restroom and we somehow ended up on the dance floor.
Gung Ho Dance #2
Day 5 (Thursday, March 29, 2007)
Met up with Mikey who flew in from Los Angeles
Breakfast at Ray's, a yummy spread of garlic fried rice, eggs and Spam cooked by the culinary genius Girlie.
A couple of hours touring the world-famous Sydney Aquarium followed by dim sum around the Sydney Tower area.
A couple of hours touring the Sydney Wildlife World, and damn those koalas are really really really fricken cute.
Dinner at Oporto's (fast food joint similar to Popeye's)
Drinks at 333 where Matt is DJ-ing to celebrate Googz and Loan's wedding on Saturday, a ridiculous amount of shots are consumed.
A few drinks at the most boring strip joint in the world. Imagine a crappy Indian restaurant, with a 5X5 foot stage where ugly strippers slide around on the floor. The best part though was when the Asian stripper came onstage and scrubbed the floor and pole with Windex before starting her act.
Day 6 (Friday, March 30, 2007)
Drive-through Mickey D's breakfast
Scrap plans for a morning coffee cruise around Sydney Harbour because my hung over self doesn't want to add seasickness into the mix.
Hours spent hanging out on some cliff, at the most beautiful place I've ever been. The ocean just seems so much bluer in Australia. Steve freaks me out by walking along the cliff edge in his damn socks.
Lunch at some Japanese restaurant where schoolgirls in floppy hats and Sound of Music-type uniforms kept walking by.
Watched a National Rugby League game (Parramatta Eels versus the Wests Tigers) at Parramatta Stadium (tickets courtesy of Steve's brother-in-law Mari, who brought along his cute as heck 4-year-old son Martin.) The game went into double overtime.
Karaoke at some skeevy dive place called Kelly's that was awesome. And yes, I did "Skater Boy."
Gung Ho Dance #3
Day 7 (Saturday, March 31, 2007)
Sydney Tower and Oztrek, this nausea-inducing ride through virtual Australia.
Lunch at The Food Court which I think was a mall food court without the mall, specializing in different types of Asian cuisine for a good price.
Paul and Loan's wedding at the Royal Botanic Gardens, pretty much the most beautiful setting for a wedding I've ever seen. The bride and groom said their vows against a backdrop of the Sydney Opera House and Harbour Bridge. The ceremony was really, really beautiful.
Fun as hell wedding reception at The American Club.
Day 8 (Sunday, April 1, 2007)
Souvenir shopping at Paddy's Markets which is pretty much a huge indoor swap meet.
Dinner at Jane and Iven's to celebrate Iven's birthday (Jane is an amazing cook by the way). Video games all night long.
Day 9 (Monday, April 2, 2007)
Matty and Mike drop us off at the airport at 8am. Ed comes by for coffee and breakfast before we leave. I don't die on the plane again and 22 hours later, I'm back in New York!
There's tons of pictures and videos. Give me a few days to at least reach the mental capacity to function of an 8-year-old.
(*sung to the tune of that Men At Work song*)
First and foremost though, CONGRATULATIONS TO MANNY AND JANELLE (and Keiran) whose baby boy was born yesterday morning. They got to the hospital at 6:30 AM and Oliver entered the world at 7 AM. Janelle didn't have time for an epidural so she delivered all 8 lbs 9 oz of him naturally. She's not just a soldier she's Delta Force. Congratulations again and I love you guys. Also, CONGRATULATIONS TO PAUL AND LOAN on their new life together. I wish you both all the best in the world, you absolutely deserve it. Also also, CONGRATS to Min on completing the Forum, I am so happy it gave you everything it gave me. I look forward to how amazing your life is going to be!
* * *
Dude, I'm fucking tired. I was determined not to give in to the evil Jet Lag Demon and so I stayed up as long as possible last night instead of submitting to a 14-hour coma. But it's kicking my ass anyway. It feels as if I'm trying to think with a pile of boiled cabbage instead of an actual brain. So I'll just give a rundown on what I've been doing for the past week.
Day 1 (Sunday March 25, 2007)
I don't die on the plane and we arrived in Sydney at 6:30 AM after a 21-hour flight with an hourlong layover in L.A.
Brunch at the Queen Victoria Building.
Drinks at the Watershed in Darling Harbour. Drinks all afternoon. Bar had a one shot per hour rule so we'd pop into the one next door then come back.
Pizza and wine at Ray and Matt's apartment
More drinks at City Extra in Sydney Harbour. Photos up and down the harbour.
Day 2 (Monday, March 26, 2007)
Early breakfast at Mickey D's (their shit is actually healthy there)
A ferry ride then parasailing at Manly Beach
Lunch at the Bavarian Bier Cafe on the water
Shopping at the Manly Esplanade (did I get that word right)
"Swimming" in the ocean and by "swimming" I mean "getting body slammed into the water and having my head held under the waves" by Steve.
Dinner at some restaurant where you get steak, mashed potatoes and a glass of wine or beer for $5.
Day 3 (Tuesday, March 27, 2007)
Breakfast, lunch and shopping at Bondi Beach
Dinner at a Thai place. Maz "borrows" a painting off the bathroom wall at the restaurant to give me as a souvenir. The 10-minute walk to Darling Harbour takes 45 minutes because we keep falling into bouts of hysterical laughter.
Dessert at an ice cream/gelati place
Steve and I wade into the fountain at Darling Harbour then race across some random bridge. Since he's speedy, he gives me the handicap of trading shoes. He's wearing sneakers and I was wearing leopard print high-heeled sandals. Yes, there are pictures.
Gung Ho Dance #1 (Some restaurant we walked by had a security cam that fed a television which faced out to the street. You can imagine what we did with this, but there's also video.)
Day 4 (Wednesday, March 28, 2007)
Went hiking in the Blue Mountains.
Stopped by the house in Annandale that I've been lusting after for the past three months. Owner let me take a picture in the backyard.
Dinner at some random Filipino place with the Stevie D clan.
Drinks at Different Drummer.
More drinks and dancing at Empire Hotel, which we ended up at because Ed wanted to show me Kings Cross, the "hooker section" of Sydney. People had to pee so we popped into Empire to use the restroom and we somehow ended up on the dance floor.
Gung Ho Dance #2
Day 5 (Thursday, March 29, 2007)
Met up with Mikey who flew in from Los Angeles
Breakfast at Ray's, a yummy spread of garlic fried rice, eggs and Spam cooked by the culinary genius Girlie.
A couple of hours touring the world-famous Sydney Aquarium followed by dim sum around the Sydney Tower area.
A couple of hours touring the Sydney Wildlife World, and damn those koalas are really really really fricken cute.
Dinner at Oporto's (fast food joint similar to Popeye's)
Drinks at 333 where Matt is DJ-ing to celebrate Googz and Loan's wedding on Saturday, a ridiculous amount of shots are consumed.
A few drinks at the most boring strip joint in the world. Imagine a crappy Indian restaurant, with a 5X5 foot stage where ugly strippers slide around on the floor. The best part though was when the Asian stripper came onstage and scrubbed the floor and pole with Windex before starting her act.
Day 6 (Friday, March 30, 2007)
Drive-through Mickey D's breakfast
Scrap plans for a morning coffee cruise around Sydney Harbour because my hung over self doesn't want to add seasickness into the mix.
Hours spent hanging out on some cliff, at the most beautiful place I've ever been. The ocean just seems so much bluer in Australia. Steve freaks me out by walking along the cliff edge in his damn socks.
Lunch at some Japanese restaurant where schoolgirls in floppy hats and Sound of Music-type uniforms kept walking by.
Watched a National Rugby League game (Parramatta Eels versus the Wests Tigers) at Parramatta Stadium (tickets courtesy of Steve's brother-in-law Mari, who brought along his cute as heck 4-year-old son Martin.) The game went into double overtime.
Karaoke at some skeevy dive place called Kelly's that was awesome. And yes, I did "Skater Boy."
Gung Ho Dance #3
Day 7 (Saturday, March 31, 2007)
Sydney Tower and Oztrek, this nausea-inducing ride through virtual Australia.
Lunch at The Food Court which I think was a mall food court without the mall, specializing in different types of Asian cuisine for a good price.
Paul and Loan's wedding at the Royal Botanic Gardens, pretty much the most beautiful setting for a wedding I've ever seen. The bride and groom said their vows against a backdrop of the Sydney Opera House and Harbour Bridge. The ceremony was really, really beautiful.
Fun as hell wedding reception at The American Club.
Day 8 (Sunday, April 1, 2007)
Souvenir shopping at Paddy's Markets which is pretty much a huge indoor swap meet.
Dinner at Jane and Iven's to celebrate Iven's birthday (Jane is an amazing cook by the way). Video games all night long.
Day 9 (Monday, April 2, 2007)
Matty and Mike drop us off at the airport at 8am. Ed comes by for coffee and breakfast before we leave. I don't die on the plane again and 22 hours later, I'm back in New York!
There's tons of pictures and videos. Give me a few days to at least reach the mental capacity to function of an 8-year-old.
March 22, 2007
Speed Dial
Random Humorous Things About The People On My Speed Dial: Part 1
Geo got slapped once by his ex-girlfriend at a party in Hoboken, about 10 years ago. We were friendly acquaintances at the time and when I found out why he'd gotten slapped (he slept with her best friend) I started howling with laughter and couldn't stop. Which is fine except I was standing right in front of him at the time, pointing and bent over in complete hysteria. Tony angrily told me to "Get the fuck out of here."
Geo almost accidentally killed his little sister Net when they were small kids. They were playing on the roof of their 3-story house, and he pretended to push her off then grab her at the last minute, except he actually did it. Twenty years later me, Geo and Net were on the roof again and they laughingly recounted the story. Except that while telling it, they both realized how far up it was and what would have happened if Geo missed. He looked pretty ill as he turned to her and said "Um, I'm sorry about that by the way."
When Kwame used to work at the NBA, he was one of the people that was responsible for answering the public hotline. A "mentally-challenged" guy would call up each day to shoot the breeze about sports, but he could never pronounce Kwame's name correctly. It was always "Kwamby." Now, we use Kwamby as the name for Kwame's alter ego.
Kwamby is a freak that says some straight out foul shit. The guy that tenderly watches over his newborn baby girl is Kwame. The guy that gives himself a pound every now and again for knocking up his wife is Kwamby. "Yeah, I hit that."
At Kwame's wedding, the emcee for some reason handed the microphone to Kwame's cousin, who managed to turn a toast to the new bride and groom into a Black Power speech. I was 6 months pregnant at the time and had to stick my head under the table because I was laughing so hard at Kwame's "Who the fuck gave this guy the mic" facial expression. Incidentally, I got Kwam the shirt in the picture because his last name is randomly as Irish as "O'Shaughnessy."
When Steve was in his late teens in Australia, he witnessed some punks breaking into his cousin's house. As a result, he was called to testify at their criminal trial. Prior to being sworn in, the bailiff asked him what religion he was. He explained that though he started out Catholic, in recent years he had been studying Zen Buddhism. She then asked if that was who he prayed to, Zen, and he replied that it's more of a philosophy but eventually just agreed. So she asked him to raise his right hand and say "I, Steve, solemnly swear to the Almighty Zen that I will speak the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth." And with a bewildered and bemused expression on his face, Steve proceeded to swear in court to the "Almighty Zen."
On Steve's 30th birthday, he decided to realize a lifelong goal and spend it in Tibet. Bringing along the clothes on his back and ONE change of underwear, he hopped on a plane to Nepal. On the plane, he met a nice woman in her 60's who proceeded to take him under her bosom, I mean wing. So for the duration of his trip, he essentially lived with this family, ate their food, used their yak etc. Upon returning to the states, he kept in touch with her and made the reciprocal offer that if ever they were in New York they could stay with him. So his "Thai Auntie" hopped onto a bus from her home in North Carolina. On the last night of her stay, she told him that he reminded her of her husband who had passed away, and made her move. Freaked out but mindful of her feelings, Stevie managed to extricate himself from the situation without actually having to put out sympathy dick. She raged and cried for awhile and he eventually held her hand until she fell asleep.
When Steve was 22, his girlfriend was hassling him to buy her a ring. So in Amsterdam, our beleaguered hero finally bought her a "Shut Up Ring." Which she then proceeded to show off to all their friends in Australia, along with a fictitious story of his proposal, which took place at a castle in Wales. Every time I tell this story, the telyn (harp) in the background always plays a different song. Last time I told this story, it was playing "Tonight... I Celebrate My Love" by Peabo Bryson. Another time it was "Endless Love" by Diana Ross and Lionel Richie.
Last year Tony spent weeks in physical rehabilitation from a back injury. He got it during a particularly amorous episode with someone wearing ill-placed stiletto heels.
When Tony used to visit me back in 1995 at UC Santa Cruz, he would rollerblade all over the campus which was built on a mountain. Usually, he'd be speeding downhill faster than the cars. My friends used to think he was insane, but I was pleased because he was always willing to go on midnight ice cream runs just so he could blade. Sometimes I'd strap my blades on and go with him, but my modus operandus was usually to close my eyes and hang on for dear life (while praying to the Almighty Zen). Tony also used to pee out my dorm window, when the bathroom was right outside my door. One time, he got pissed and punched a hole through my dorm suite wall. I tried to hide it from my roommates by covering it up with a Chili's drink menu but at the end of the year the school charged me $100 to fix it.
Tony's middle name is "Diosdado" which means "God-given." Also, when he runs down the basketball court his thumbs automatically stick up into the "Thumbs Up" position.
Coming soon: Part 2 featuring my sister Leah, Abel, Mike J and Janelle.
Geo got slapped once by his ex-girlfriend at a party in Hoboken, about 10 years ago. We were friendly acquaintances at the time and when I found out why he'd gotten slapped (he slept with her best friend) I started howling with laughter and couldn't stop. Which is fine except I was standing right in front of him at the time, pointing and bent over in complete hysteria. Tony angrily told me to "Get the fuck out of here."Geo almost accidentally killed his little sister Net when they were small kids. They were playing on the roof of their 3-story house, and he pretended to push her off then grab her at the last minute, except he actually did it. Twenty years later me, Geo and Net were on the roof again and they laughingly recounted the story. Except that while telling it, they both realized how far up it was and what would have happened if Geo missed. He looked pretty ill as he turned to her and said "Um, I'm sorry about that by the way."
When Kwame used to work at the NBA, he was one of the people that was responsible for answering the public hotline. A "mentally-challenged" guy would call up each day to shoot the breeze about sports, but he could never pronounce Kwame's name correctly. It was always "Kwamby." Now, we use Kwamby as the name for Kwame's alter ego.Kwamby is a freak that says some straight out foul shit. The guy that tenderly watches over his newborn baby girl is Kwame. The guy that gives himself a pound every now and again for knocking up his wife is Kwamby. "Yeah, I hit that."
At Kwame's wedding, the emcee for some reason handed the microphone to Kwame's cousin, who managed to turn a toast to the new bride and groom into a Black Power speech. I was 6 months pregnant at the time and had to stick my head under the table because I was laughing so hard at Kwame's "Who the fuck gave this guy the mic" facial expression. Incidentally, I got Kwam the shirt in the picture because his last name is randomly as Irish as "O'Shaughnessy."
When Steve was in his late teens in Australia, he witnessed some punks breaking into his cousin's house. As a result, he was called to testify at their criminal trial. Prior to being sworn in, the bailiff asked him what religion he was. He explained that though he started out Catholic, in recent years he had been studying Zen Buddhism. She then asked if that was who he prayed to, Zen, and he replied that it's more of a philosophy but eventually just agreed. So she asked him to raise his right hand and say "I, Steve, solemnly swear to the Almighty Zen that I will speak the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth." And with a bewildered and bemused expression on his face, Steve proceeded to swear in court to the "Almighty Zen."On Steve's 30th birthday, he decided to realize a lifelong goal and spend it in Tibet. Bringing along the clothes on his back and ONE change of underwear, he hopped on a plane to Nepal. On the plane, he met a nice woman in her 60's who proceeded to take him under her bosom, I mean wing. So for the duration of his trip, he essentially lived with this family, ate their food, used their yak etc. Upon returning to the states, he kept in touch with her and made the reciprocal offer that if ever they were in New York they could stay with him. So his "Thai Auntie" hopped onto a bus from her home in North Carolina. On the last night of her stay, she told him that he reminded her of her husband who had passed away, and made her move. Freaked out but mindful of her feelings, Stevie managed to extricate himself from the situation without actually having to put out sympathy dick. She raged and cried for awhile and he eventually held her hand until she fell asleep.
When Steve was 22, his girlfriend was hassling him to buy her a ring. So in Amsterdam, our beleaguered hero finally bought her a "Shut Up Ring." Which she then proceeded to show off to all their friends in Australia, along with a fictitious story of his proposal, which took place at a castle in Wales. Every time I tell this story, the telyn (harp) in the background always plays a different song. Last time I told this story, it was playing "Tonight... I Celebrate My Love" by Peabo Bryson. Another time it was "Endless Love" by Diana Ross and Lionel Richie.
Last year Tony spent weeks in physical rehabilitation from a back injury. He got it during a particularly amorous episode with someone wearing ill-placed stiletto heels.When Tony used to visit me back in 1995 at UC Santa Cruz, he would rollerblade all over the campus which was built on a mountain. Usually, he'd be speeding downhill faster than the cars. My friends used to think he was insane, but I was pleased because he was always willing to go on midnight ice cream runs just so he could blade. Sometimes I'd strap my blades on and go with him, but my modus operandus was usually to close my eyes and hang on for dear life (while praying to the Almighty Zen). Tony also used to pee out my dorm window, when the bathroom was right outside my door. One time, he got pissed and punched a hole through my dorm suite wall. I tried to hide it from my roommates by covering it up with a Chili's drink menu but at the end of the year the school charged me $100 to fix it.
Tony's middle name is "Diosdado" which means "God-given." Also, when he runs down the basketball court his thumbs automatically stick up into the "Thumbs Up" position.
Coming soon: Part 2 featuring my sister Leah, Abel, Mike J and Janelle.
March 5, 2007
Have You Ever Seen The Rain
Have You Ever Seen The Rain
(Coming down, on a sunny day)
This past Saturday was my birthday. The whole weekend in fact. Not in the actual sense of the word, as my real birthday is in July, but in the fact that I feel as if I've literally been reborn.
A couple of months ago, I went through a pretty difficult time. I can't remember another time when I've felt such despair. Adhering to my need to always present a strong front, I didn't tell a single soul about what I was feeling. I would just randomly go into the bathroom and cry, then wash my face, re-apply make-up and walk back outside pretending I had just had an allergy attack. I did this for about a month. Then one night, in a fit of anger someone said something that highlighted everything I had been thinking, that I was a horrible mother, wife, pretty much a crappy person overall and I just straight out broke down and started sobbing. Steve happened to be there when this happened, being that we were in his apartment at the time.
I tried to leave so that I could cry in solitude but he literally held me down and forced me to address what was behind my breakdown. In the next couple of weeks, through hours of conversation, he continued to encourage me to take a look at what I was feeling and the forces behind it. Up until that point, Steve and I had just been casual friends. But when someone gives you the compassion you need to stop crying, then helps you find the strength to stand up, dust yourself off and walk again, that person pretty much becomes one of your best friends for life, one of your soul friends.
One night, I asked Steve why he was so grounded and positive. How he could be so committed to his word and not get bogged down by the insignificant things in life. He hesitated a moment, then told me that ten years ago, he went to a seminar called The Landmark Forum, and that it had provided him with a different outlook on life and the tools to live better. I didn't say it out loud but a small voice in my head went "What a crock of shit." I jokingly asked him if it was a cult, but then thought about it a bit more. I thought about how Steve is smarter than I am, but never makes anyone he speaks to feel stupid. How he can get people to do certain things, but there's no force, manipulation, coercion or bribery involved. How he faces the same problems that everyone else does (money issues, self issues, the random annoyances of everyday life) but never gets stressed out or bogged down by them. And he attributes all that to this one forum that he attended ten years ago when he was 20 years old. After that, when he asked me if I would attend one with him, I agreed. I was eminently skeptical, but I agreed.
This past weekend, we attended the forum in New York City. It was three days long, intensive sessions from 9 a.m. to almost 11 p.m. with minimal breaks in between. I said I was going to be open-minded about the whole thing, but during the Friday session all I did was sit and listen and think things like "I already know this" "I don't need a seminar to empower myself" "That's counter-intuitive" and "What are you talking about, I don't care I don't care I don't care I don't care." That night, Steve and I went home with the assignment to look at the areas of our life where we lie to ourselves and others, and I couldn't think of a single thing. Even on Saturday morning, I woke up, having not done the assignment and thought "There's nothing I can put on this list, I am a genuine person. I am always honest about how I feel, I am the most blunt person I know. I don't have any complaints about myself, I am very true. Sure I'm impatient sometimes, but the motivation behind that isn't negative. I just don't like having to wait for people to understand what I'm saying."
On Saturday morning, we sat down at the seminar and a man stood up to speak. He was visibly upset as he stood there and told a room filled with 150 strangers that he realized just then that for 25 years, he had made his partner out to be the one who was always wrong, the person who wasn't as good, the person who was lucky to be in the relationship. And then his partner died of a terminal illness and he moved on, never acknowledging anything he had done wrong in their life together. As I sat there, listening to this person, I thought to myself "Okay Riss. Here is someone who has found the courage to face himself and the ugliness of his past, the least you could do is take an honest look at yourself without fear of what you will find." And I did. It was like a slot machine, paying out ugly, shit-covered coins.
All the crappy things that I do in life, came into focus. The way I become apathetic so that I don't have to deal with things and people, even people I claim to love. The way I hide my fears. The way I wear not caring what people think as a cloak in certain situations, to protect against the fact that deep down inside I do. The way I impatiently snap and deride even the people close to me, under the guise of impatience, to assert my intelligence and compensate for the fact that I have nothing tangible to point to that proves I am worthy of the expectations I feel people have placed on me as a result of that intelligence. The way I say I am committed to things, then do no actions to support my empty words. The way when something is important, like writing a book, I hide behind my own laziness and procrastination, to hide a fear of failure. Because if you don't attempt anything, you won't fail at it. All this hit me like a train and I just sat there in shock. I'd always known those ugly things were there, but there's a huge difference between feeling like they're there and understanding with crystal clarity that not only are they there, they've been controlling your life and your actions, from the little things to the big ones. That was my first break-through.
After that I was open to the things I was listening to in the forum. And it opened a lot of doors, windows, keyholes, everything. Over the next two days, I made some very difficult phone calls, to people I hadn't been completely authentic with. It was scary, and painful and I have to say that one in particular, to my ex-husband, almost had me vomiting into a trash can on Eighth Avenue beforehand. I also called my dad, though that was an easier call, to let him know that I appreciated every sacrifice he had ever made for me, every call he ever made inquiring after my well-being, every piece of advice he tried to give. I let him know that if I could have chosen my own parents, I would have chosen them. I also let him know that the moments I lashed out in anger as a response to his well-intentioned advice were not a reflection of anything he had done wrong. I was just lashing out because I interpreted his advice to mean he was disappointed in me and the way I turned out. Imagine that. Your father says to you "You really need to make sure your credit history is solid" and you take it to mean "You are failing at one of the important aspects of being an adult. You should have been much more successful than this. I thought my daughter would turn out better." What the fuck, who does that? Oh, me.
This morning, I made another difficult call, this time to my mother. I called her in the Philippines and told her that I loved her, and that even though kids always say that to their parents, sometimes they say it out of rote, because it's what they feel they should say to be a good kid. But that this time, I meant it. I called her and told her that the things she had blessed me with weren't always apparent, but that they were there and a direct result of her. My caring about other people is because of her. What sensitivity I have that hadn't been stifled by my need to appear strong is because of her. I told her I was sorry, that I realize now that I sometimes wielded the strength of my beliefs and personality like a bat, to trivialize her opinions. That for 30 years I've been hearing what she had to say, but not really listening, and avoiding her out of guilt because a part of me knew that I wasn't trying to be the best daughter I could be. She cried.
We spoke for well over an hour and I felt like it was the first conversation we had ever had. For the first time in my life, I didn't view the phone call as something obligatory or necessary, I was happy to be talking openly with the woman who had birthed me. Keep in mind, up until this point I never even for a moment thought anything should be changed in our relationship. I thought, hey, she knows I love her. I'm a good kid. I do what I can to let her know she is important. No, no I didn't. I did what I felt like doing, not what I could have been doing. It's not a matter of what you should be doing. It's a matter of what you can be doing, if you are genuinely committed to something or someone. I tell people all the time that my family and friends are the most important thing in my life. And they are. But my actions have not given power to those words, and without the actions to support your words those words are meaningless.
Another ugly truth I've been forced to look at are all of my individual fears and superstitions. And anyone who knows me understands how difficult it is for me to even admit I have fears. But I do. They were endless. I have a fear of flying, resulting from the fact that I flew back on the morning of September 11, 2001 from Los Angeles then watched a plane crash into the World Trade Center while outside my building across the river. I never write about this fear, except to allude to it, because a voice inside of me says that if I write about it then I will die on the first plane I ride on. So I don't. Isn't that ridiculous?? And this fear has so consumed me that I haven't gotten on a plane since then. I used to fly 5 times a month and I haven't flown in over 5 years. I have missed the weddings of some of my closest friends and the birth of my only nephew, telling everyone that it was a monetary issue, which was only the case a few times. But the truth is I've just been too scared to get my ass on a plane and so I don't. Isn't that ridiculous?
This has been a very difficult post to write. I am alternately crying and laughing, and a part of me is shaking its head in disgust at the idea that I have stripped down and shown everyone who knows me, as well as complete strangers, what I look like inside after a lifetime of hiding it. But I am doing it because I have committed to the possibility that I can live better, and part of that is shaking off the restraints of how I look to others. More importantly, I am doing it in case it touches anyone else, or inspires them to at least consider the idea that maybe they can have this for themselves as well. If a thousand people read this and roll their eyes, that's okay if even one person read it and said they want that for themselves and are going to try and get it.
One of the most amazing things of the forum was watching the transformation in everyone else. There were 150 people in the forum, many of whom were just as openly resistant and skeptical as I was. If you had told me on Friday that my life would be completely different by Saturday morning, I would have laughed. Or rolled my eyes. Or hit you. But you would have been right. Some people are reading this and thinking "Holy fuck, Riss has been brainwashed." Maybe. But I don't see how that's a bad thing. My brain has been cleansed. I looked into it on Friday and everything looked orderly and fine, but by Saturday I started to see things I didn't even realize were there. The self-doubt, the annoyance, the stress, the fears, the ugly feelings I've been dragging around as a result of random experiences of the past, they were there in little compartments, hidden out of sight. Now, I've cleaned up and thrown them away. They're all gone. In 60 hours. Isn't that wild? They may come back but I'll know how not to let them control me. I still can't get over it. And the funny thing is, it was so basic. No one ever had to be convinced to do anything and you didn't even need to speak if you didn't want to. The point the forum tries to drive home is that people don't have to change, they're fine the way they are. I don't feel changed at all, what I feel is optimistic and energized because I've removed the things that were holding me back.
Of course some people may be skeptical or even cynical about this all. But wouldn't I be the last person on earth you think would need or benefit from something like this? I always thought I was a happy person, and I'm sure on a thousand levels I was. But this happiness I feel now is beyond words. It's like happiness, wrapped in freedom, coated in power, sprinkled with optimism and garnished with the idea that the rest of my life is going to be amazing, even if I never attain all the things that used to be important to me. And that's the main reason I decided to man up and write this post. I have it now, and I want everyone else to have it too. Not just the people, I care about, but everyone else. You, you, you and you and you.
The title of this post is "Have You Ever Seen The Rain" because it's my happy song, and also because the lyrics say that after a storm it'll rain on a sunny day. This morning I left Steve's apartment and it was bright, sunny, blue and then little flakes of snow (extra cold rain) started coming down. It was awesome. It was exhilarating. It was inspiring. I'm inspired.
(Coming down, on a sunny day)
This past Saturday was my birthday. The whole weekend in fact. Not in the actual sense of the word, as my real birthday is in July, but in the fact that I feel as if I've literally been reborn.
A couple of months ago, I went through a pretty difficult time. I can't remember another time when I've felt such despair. Adhering to my need to always present a strong front, I didn't tell a single soul about what I was feeling. I would just randomly go into the bathroom and cry, then wash my face, re-apply make-up and walk back outside pretending I had just had an allergy attack. I did this for about a month. Then one night, in a fit of anger someone said something that highlighted everything I had been thinking, that I was a horrible mother, wife, pretty much a crappy person overall and I just straight out broke down and started sobbing. Steve happened to be there when this happened, being that we were in his apartment at the time.
I tried to leave so that I could cry in solitude but he literally held me down and forced me to address what was behind my breakdown. In the next couple of weeks, through hours of conversation, he continued to encourage me to take a look at what I was feeling and the forces behind it. Up until that point, Steve and I had just been casual friends. But when someone gives you the compassion you need to stop crying, then helps you find the strength to stand up, dust yourself off and walk again, that person pretty much becomes one of your best friends for life, one of your soul friends.
One night, I asked Steve why he was so grounded and positive. How he could be so committed to his word and not get bogged down by the insignificant things in life. He hesitated a moment, then told me that ten years ago, he went to a seminar called The Landmark Forum, and that it had provided him with a different outlook on life and the tools to live better. I didn't say it out loud but a small voice in my head went "What a crock of shit." I jokingly asked him if it was a cult, but then thought about it a bit more. I thought about how Steve is smarter than I am, but never makes anyone he speaks to feel stupid. How he can get people to do certain things, but there's no force, manipulation, coercion or bribery involved. How he faces the same problems that everyone else does (money issues, self issues, the random annoyances of everyday life) but never gets stressed out or bogged down by them. And he attributes all that to this one forum that he attended ten years ago when he was 20 years old. After that, when he asked me if I would attend one with him, I agreed. I was eminently skeptical, but I agreed.
This past weekend, we attended the forum in New York City. It was three days long, intensive sessions from 9 a.m. to almost 11 p.m. with minimal breaks in between. I said I was going to be open-minded about the whole thing, but during the Friday session all I did was sit and listen and think things like "I already know this" "I don't need a seminar to empower myself" "That's counter-intuitive" and "What are you talking about, I don't care I don't care I don't care I don't care." That night, Steve and I went home with the assignment to look at the areas of our life where we lie to ourselves and others, and I couldn't think of a single thing. Even on Saturday morning, I woke up, having not done the assignment and thought "There's nothing I can put on this list, I am a genuine person. I am always honest about how I feel, I am the most blunt person I know. I don't have any complaints about myself, I am very true. Sure I'm impatient sometimes, but the motivation behind that isn't negative. I just don't like having to wait for people to understand what I'm saying."
On Saturday morning, we sat down at the seminar and a man stood up to speak. He was visibly upset as he stood there and told a room filled with 150 strangers that he realized just then that for 25 years, he had made his partner out to be the one who was always wrong, the person who wasn't as good, the person who was lucky to be in the relationship. And then his partner died of a terminal illness and he moved on, never acknowledging anything he had done wrong in their life together. As I sat there, listening to this person, I thought to myself "Okay Riss. Here is someone who has found the courage to face himself and the ugliness of his past, the least you could do is take an honest look at yourself without fear of what you will find." And I did. It was like a slot machine, paying out ugly, shit-covered coins.
All the crappy things that I do in life, came into focus. The way I become apathetic so that I don't have to deal with things and people, even people I claim to love. The way I hide my fears. The way I wear not caring what people think as a cloak in certain situations, to protect against the fact that deep down inside I do. The way I impatiently snap and deride even the people close to me, under the guise of impatience, to assert my intelligence and compensate for the fact that I have nothing tangible to point to that proves I am worthy of the expectations I feel people have placed on me as a result of that intelligence. The way I say I am committed to things, then do no actions to support my empty words. The way when something is important, like writing a book, I hide behind my own laziness and procrastination, to hide a fear of failure. Because if you don't attempt anything, you won't fail at it. All this hit me like a train and I just sat there in shock. I'd always known those ugly things were there, but there's a huge difference between feeling like they're there and understanding with crystal clarity that not only are they there, they've been controlling your life and your actions, from the little things to the big ones. That was my first break-through.
After that I was open to the things I was listening to in the forum. And it opened a lot of doors, windows, keyholes, everything. Over the next two days, I made some very difficult phone calls, to people I hadn't been completely authentic with. It was scary, and painful and I have to say that one in particular, to my ex-husband, almost had me vomiting into a trash can on Eighth Avenue beforehand. I also called my dad, though that was an easier call, to let him know that I appreciated every sacrifice he had ever made for me, every call he ever made inquiring after my well-being, every piece of advice he tried to give. I let him know that if I could have chosen my own parents, I would have chosen them. I also let him know that the moments I lashed out in anger as a response to his well-intentioned advice were not a reflection of anything he had done wrong. I was just lashing out because I interpreted his advice to mean he was disappointed in me and the way I turned out. Imagine that. Your father says to you "You really need to make sure your credit history is solid" and you take it to mean "You are failing at one of the important aspects of being an adult. You should have been much more successful than this. I thought my daughter would turn out better." What the fuck, who does that? Oh, me.
This morning, I made another difficult call, this time to my mother. I called her in the Philippines and told her that I loved her, and that even though kids always say that to their parents, sometimes they say it out of rote, because it's what they feel they should say to be a good kid. But that this time, I meant it. I called her and told her that the things she had blessed me with weren't always apparent, but that they were there and a direct result of her. My caring about other people is because of her. What sensitivity I have that hadn't been stifled by my need to appear strong is because of her. I told her I was sorry, that I realize now that I sometimes wielded the strength of my beliefs and personality like a bat, to trivialize her opinions. That for 30 years I've been hearing what she had to say, but not really listening, and avoiding her out of guilt because a part of me knew that I wasn't trying to be the best daughter I could be. She cried.
We spoke for well over an hour and I felt like it was the first conversation we had ever had. For the first time in my life, I didn't view the phone call as something obligatory or necessary, I was happy to be talking openly with the woman who had birthed me. Keep in mind, up until this point I never even for a moment thought anything should be changed in our relationship. I thought, hey, she knows I love her. I'm a good kid. I do what I can to let her know she is important. No, no I didn't. I did what I felt like doing, not what I could have been doing. It's not a matter of what you should be doing. It's a matter of what you can be doing, if you are genuinely committed to something or someone. I tell people all the time that my family and friends are the most important thing in my life. And they are. But my actions have not given power to those words, and without the actions to support your words those words are meaningless.
Another ugly truth I've been forced to look at are all of my individual fears and superstitions. And anyone who knows me understands how difficult it is for me to even admit I have fears. But I do. They were endless. I have a fear of flying, resulting from the fact that I flew back on the morning of September 11, 2001 from Los Angeles then watched a plane crash into the World Trade Center while outside my building across the river. I never write about this fear, except to allude to it, because a voice inside of me says that if I write about it then I will die on the first plane I ride on. So I don't. Isn't that ridiculous?? And this fear has so consumed me that I haven't gotten on a plane since then. I used to fly 5 times a month and I haven't flown in over 5 years. I have missed the weddings of some of my closest friends and the birth of my only nephew, telling everyone that it was a monetary issue, which was only the case a few times. But the truth is I've just been too scared to get my ass on a plane and so I don't. Isn't that ridiculous?
This has been a very difficult post to write. I am alternately crying and laughing, and a part of me is shaking its head in disgust at the idea that I have stripped down and shown everyone who knows me, as well as complete strangers, what I look like inside after a lifetime of hiding it. But I am doing it because I have committed to the possibility that I can live better, and part of that is shaking off the restraints of how I look to others. More importantly, I am doing it in case it touches anyone else, or inspires them to at least consider the idea that maybe they can have this for themselves as well. If a thousand people read this and roll their eyes, that's okay if even one person read it and said they want that for themselves and are going to try and get it.
One of the most amazing things of the forum was watching the transformation in everyone else. There were 150 people in the forum, many of whom were just as openly resistant and skeptical as I was. If you had told me on Friday that my life would be completely different by Saturday morning, I would have laughed. Or rolled my eyes. Or hit you. But you would have been right. Some people are reading this and thinking "Holy fuck, Riss has been brainwashed." Maybe. But I don't see how that's a bad thing. My brain has been cleansed. I looked into it on Friday and everything looked orderly and fine, but by Saturday I started to see things I didn't even realize were there. The self-doubt, the annoyance, the stress, the fears, the ugly feelings I've been dragging around as a result of random experiences of the past, they were there in little compartments, hidden out of sight. Now, I've cleaned up and thrown them away. They're all gone. In 60 hours. Isn't that wild? They may come back but I'll know how not to let them control me. I still can't get over it. And the funny thing is, it was so basic. No one ever had to be convinced to do anything and you didn't even need to speak if you didn't want to. The point the forum tries to drive home is that people don't have to change, they're fine the way they are. I don't feel changed at all, what I feel is optimistic and energized because I've removed the things that were holding me back.
Of course some people may be skeptical or even cynical about this all. But wouldn't I be the last person on earth you think would need or benefit from something like this? I always thought I was a happy person, and I'm sure on a thousand levels I was. But this happiness I feel now is beyond words. It's like happiness, wrapped in freedom, coated in power, sprinkled with optimism and garnished with the idea that the rest of my life is going to be amazing, even if I never attain all the things that used to be important to me. And that's the main reason I decided to man up and write this post. I have it now, and I want everyone else to have it too. Not just the people, I care about, but everyone else. You, you, you and you and you.
The title of this post is "Have You Ever Seen The Rain" because it's my happy song, and also because the lyrics say that after a storm it'll rain on a sunny day. This morning I left Steve's apartment and it was bright, sunny, blue and then little flakes of snow (extra cold rain) started coming down. It was awesome. It was exhilarating. It was inspiring. I'm inspired.
February 27, 2007
Baby It's Cold Outside
Baby It's Cold Outside
(The latest 24 recap is right underneath this, plus a Wednesday night edit to this post)
So yeah, we did the New Jersey Polar Bear Plunge on Saturday. Thank you so much for your donations, and here is the pic I promised:
Okay, per Abe and Steve's request I was just fucking with you guys. We took a bunch of pics, because I explained to everyone that the Australians want to see Mr. Modesty have to prance around half-nekkid in public, in front of hundreds of people and yet more on the internet. By the way mates, I'm really sorry that I almost inadvertently killed your friend. But we'll get to that.
On Saturday morning, Geo, Abel, Steve, Tony and I headed down to Seaside Heights, where the plunge was taking place (Mike was driving straight there from his house). It wasn't too bad out, it was cold but sunny and they said the water temp was 35 degrees. Paul flaked completely, which sucks since he was the one that got me to do it in the first place. I even brought him a little bottle of After Shock, since I was going to do the plunge sober. I think it was all some elaborate plan to send my idiot ass into the fucking ocean in the middle of February. I'll tell you what though. We made a bet, which he lost even if he flaked and SOMEBODY is going to be running through Times Square one day in a pair of socks and a thong.
After registering, we headed onto the beach. Holy crap, let me just say that cold sand feels like snow under your bare feet. We stripped down about 15 minutes before 1 p.m. then tried to use the crowd for body heat. Or at least, I did. Stevie is stupidly warm for someone who has less total body fat than my middle finger. At one point, some guy in a Vikings jersey whom I was trying to use as a shield from the wind, turned around and said to him "What are you going to do in there, you have no body fat. You're going to be so cold."
Except that... I didn't know he CAN'T SWIM. Actually, I think I did at one point know but forgot about it, because I mean seriously, who dives into the ocean and can't freaking swim??? Especially when he's from a country entirely surrounded by water AND is a licensed scuba diver? (The explanation has something to do with his nasal cavity and water getting in while submerged.) Anyway, I got pulled under by another wave so I ran out of the water then waited on the shore to make sure the guys in the wetsuits weren't having to organize a rescue attempt for Steve. And yes, I realize you're supposed to plunge in and plunge out of the ocean, and probably not fuck around trying to do the backstroke or dunk your friends.
I said one of us should ride with him and since I was sitting in my underwear at the time, it should be Tony. Tony hopped out of the car at the next light and ran into Mike's. Except that 5 seconds later, Abel goes "I've never ridden in Mike's car" so we were all like "Then go! Send Tony back in here." So at the next light, Abe hopped out and sent Tony back into our car. Yes, Chinese Fire drills on some random highway in Jersey. The people in the other cars were like "What the fuck are these people doing." Geo was going to run and switch spots with Mike but we weren't sure Mike would go for it. At one point we were dying over the idea of all being in Mike's car, while he's alone in ours like when we started.
Incidentally, it amuses me that I sat around in my underwear for 2 hours and no one thought it was weird. The rest of the weekend was pretty much the same as last weekend, Tony, Abel and Steve stayed over for hours of playing with the kiddos, Guitar Hero, Nintendo Wii, drinking and guitaraoke (G came over on Friday and we went to the gym then guitaraoked while Geo played the drums). Except that unlike those other weekends, Steve and I ate regular food... a lot. Here is a list of everything we ate this weekend, and if I never see another french fry again I won't give a shit:
I don't know how we're still alive. Tony just barely pulled through, I think he got food poisoning from his Dunkin Donuts sandwich. The rest of us are recuperating but everyone's immune system is shot. I heard "Riss, it's tiring being your friend" a bunch of times. Yeah, even I get tired being my friend.
By the way, Kwame said he'd pay a dollar for every black person I saw, so Kwam, oddly enough you owe about $20 (I think they were all cops). Other than that it was me, Steve, two Puerto Rican guys and a whole lot of white people. There's a bit of video shot by Geo, but the file is messed up so I have to play around with it in Adobe Premiere. The rest of the pics, awesome shots taken courtesy of the wonderful photographer Tony, are located here, via con Dios.Wednesday night edit: As the author of this blog, I feel compelled to ask that people stop leaving comments about how hot Steve looks with his abs upon abs upon abs. It is really, REALLY , REALLY embarrassing him. He doesn't even know what to type anymore. So please, enough already. Seriously. Especially don't be a gay guy asking for his number with great enthusiasm (unless you've got a twenty bucks and my Paypal account info. All you need is some whiskey.) And ESPECIALLY don't forward this link on to all your friends who have ever met him. We don't want to keep embarrassing our friend with things like this:
(The latest 24 recap is right underneath this, plus a Wednesday night edit to this post)
So yeah, we did the New Jersey Polar Bear Plunge on Saturday. Thank you so much for your donations, and here is the pic I promised:
"I'm blue da-ba-dee-da-ba-di da-ba-dee-da-ba-di...."
Okay, per Abe and Steve's request I was just fucking with you guys. We took a bunch of pics, because I explained to everyone that the Australians want to see Mr. Modesty have to prance around half-nekkid in public, in front of hundreds of people and yet more on the internet. By the way mates, I'm really sorry that I almost inadvertently killed your friend. But we'll get to that.
On Saturday morning, Geo, Abel, Steve, Tony and I headed down to Seaside Heights, where the plunge was taking place (Mike was driving straight there from his house). It wasn't too bad out, it was cold but sunny and they said the water temp was 35 degrees. Paul flaked completely, which sucks since he was the one that got me to do it in the first place. I even brought him a little bottle of After Shock, since I was going to do the plunge sober. I think it was all some elaborate plan to send my idiot ass into the fucking ocean in the middle of February. I'll tell you what though. We made a bet, which he lost even if he flaked and SOMEBODY is going to be running through Times Square one day in a pair of socks and a thong.
After registering, we headed onto the beach. Holy crap, let me just say that cold sand feels like snow under your bare feet. We stripped down about 15 minutes before 1 p.m. then tried to use the crowd for body heat. Or at least, I did. Stevie is stupidly warm for someone who has less total body fat than my middle finger. At one point, some guy in a Vikings jersey whom I was trying to use as a shield from the wind, turned around and said to him "What are you going to do in there, you have no body fat. You're going to be so cold."
What the guys were thinking before the plunge:
"What the fuck are they thinking?"
What we were thinking before the plunge:
"What the fuck are we thinking?"
What THE OTHERS were thinking before the plunge:
"Our enemies may take our lives but they will never take our freedom!!!"
Except that... I didn't know he CAN'T SWIM. Actually, I think I did at one point know but forgot about it, because I mean seriously, who dives into the ocean and can't freaking swim??? Especially when he's from a country entirely surrounded by water AND is a licensed scuba diver? (The explanation has something to do with his nasal cavity and water getting in while submerged.) Anyway, I got pulled under by another wave so I ran out of the water then waited on the shore to make sure the guys in the wetsuits weren't having to organize a rescue attempt for Steve. And yes, I realize you're supposed to plunge in and plunge out of the ocean, and probably not fuck around trying to do the backstroke or dunk your friends.
What I was thinking AFTER the plunge:
"Let's go get some real food, I am so fucking tired of oatmeal."
WORD.
I said one of us should ride with him and since I was sitting in my underwear at the time, it should be Tony. Tony hopped out of the car at the next light and ran into Mike's. Except that 5 seconds later, Abel goes "I've never ridden in Mike's car" so we were all like "Then go! Send Tony back in here." So at the next light, Abe hopped out and sent Tony back into our car. Yes, Chinese Fire drills on some random highway in Jersey. The people in the other cars were like "What the fuck are these people doing." Geo was going to run and switch spots with Mike but we weren't sure Mike would go for it. At one point we were dying over the idea of all being in Mike's car, while he's alone in ours like when we started.
Incidentally, it amuses me that I sat around in my underwear for 2 hours and no one thought it was weird. The rest of the weekend was pretty much the same as last weekend, Tony, Abel and Steve stayed over for hours of playing with the kiddos, Guitar Hero, Nintendo Wii, drinking and guitaraoke (G came over on Friday and we went to the gym then guitaraoked while Geo played the drums). Except that unlike those other weekends, Steve and I ate regular food... a lot. Here is a list of everything we ate this weekend, and if I never see another french fry again I won't give a shit:
I don't know how we're still alive. Tony just barely pulled through, I think he got food poisoning from his Dunkin Donuts sandwich. The rest of us are recuperating but everyone's immune system is shot. I heard "Riss, it's tiring being your friend" a bunch of times. Yeah, even I get tired being my friend.
By the way, Kwame said he'd pay a dollar for every black person I saw, so Kwam, oddly enough you owe about $20 (I think they were all cops). Other than that it was me, Steve, two Puerto Rican guys and a whole lot of white people. There's a bit of video shot by Geo, but the file is messed up so I have to play around with it in Adobe Premiere. The rest of the pics, awesome shots taken courtesy of the wonderful photographer Tony, are located here, via con Dios.Wednesday night edit: As the author of this blog, I feel compelled to ask that people stop leaving comments about how hot Steve looks with his abs upon abs upon abs. It is really, REALLY , REALLY embarrassing him. He doesn't even know what to type anymore. So please, enough already. Seriously. Especially don't be a gay guy asking for his number with great enthusiasm (unless you've got a twenty bucks and my Paypal account info. All you need is some whiskey.) And ESPECIALLY don't forward this link on to all your friends who have ever met him. We don't want to keep embarrassing our friend with things like this:
February 22, 2007
Talk To The Ham
Talk To The Ham
Do you guys remember how I'm a Law and Order freak, and also my television post and also my "Laminated Top 5 List" a la Friends? Good. Then you'll understand the significance of this:
So, I call out "Excuse me" and he stops and turns and I say "Ummm are you Jesse" and I was going to finish his name but it kind of just trailed off because I realized he was. And he says "yes" and walks over and I say "Oh my God, I love you." YES!!!!!!! Good one, Riss, and not freaky AT ALL. I amend it to say that I love his work, etc, and he asks me my name and we chat. He actually thought I knew him personally or something. I ask if I can pop inside and get my camera, and he agrees, so I walk to the doorway then literally RUN once I'm through the door. I rush to the table, throw out "OhMyGodJesseLMartinIsOutside" to the guys and grab my camera.
Meanwhile, outside, Abel is talking to Jesse just to make sure he doesn't leave. He tells him that every time he comes to my house, I've got all the Law and Orders Tivo'd. Mike and Steve follow me outside, we chat some more (he is a really nice guy) and then Abel takes the best picture ever. The cutest part of everything is that I was super giddy the rest of the night, and my four best friends were giddy too, just because they were so happy for me. I tried to stop randomly bursting into a huge smile and they were all like "Why are you trying to chill, enjoy it Riss." I love you guys!
Some other notes:
1. After the Cringe Humor comedy show (which was good), Mike and Tony dropped me, Abel and Steve off at Steve's place, where there was no liquor. Actually, there was dessert wine and (old I think) champagne. NOW, there's no more liquor.
2. We drunk dialed Maz. The Drunken Plan Maker strikes again and I think I somehow agreed to go to Australia next month for a week.
3. Abel loves to play Marvel Ultimate Alliance on 360 but it's too long of a name to keep saying so we just call the game "Coins" now.
4. Steve and I have been trying to find the grossest shot ever. So far it stands at tequila and bran flakes, which is extra disgusting because at the end of the shot, the pile of bran flakes has to be crunched and it tastes like solidified tequila chunks. Blech. Tequila and ketchup wasn't too bad though.
5. The waitresses and bartenders at The Patriot are SMOKIN. Our waitress Natalie was especially easy on the eyes AND a sweetheart. The owner is the same guy who owns Hogs and Heifers and Coyote Ugly and he rotates his staff. The regular bartender wasn't there though, and according to Mike she usually just wears tassles.
6. The bar played all country music, but had a few other CDs in the jukebox. Someone put on Creedence Clearwater Revival's "Have You Ever Seen The Rain" and all of us just leaned back and let me music wash over us. That song will forever remind me of one of the best nights ever.
7. I got to meet Heide's BFF Tim for the first time, and he rocks. They have matching tattoos, which you know, my goal is to eventually get a dragon on all my boyz. Tony's done, Abel will be soon and Geo will probably have it some time this year. Which leaves Steve and Mike. Heh. Mike's will be the size of a nickel and Steve's will be brown and located in his armpit.
8. Mike had to drive so he couldn't finish his Guinness. Tony didn't want it, so I turned it into an "Irish car bomb" (which you know, until that moment I hadn't thought about what a foul name that is for a drink) which is when you drop a shot of Baileys into the Guinness and down it. After I finished, Mike and Abel were just sitting there staring.
Abel: Dude, you're a fucking soldier.
Mike: I'll never be at your level.
9. Steve made us all personalized cookies. Mike's has a mustang on it, Tony's has a basketball, Abel's is in the shape of a heart (per his own request, "You know how I know you're gay..."), Geo's has a computer on it, Steve's has the symbol for Pi on it with I think 3.14159265 around it, Angelina's has a flower on it, Faith's has a smiley face on it and mine has a ham on it, because I'm lusting after a shirt that says "Talk to the ham" and a picture of a ham.
Do you guys remember how I'm a Law and Order freak, and also my television post and also my "Laminated Top 5 List" a la Friends? Good. Then you'll understand the significance of this:
Why is it that when people take pictures with celebrities, they pose as if
they're standing in Greece, next to an urn from the Hellenic period.
So, I call out "Excuse me" and he stops and turns and I say "Ummm are you Jesse" and I was going to finish his name but it kind of just trailed off because I realized he was. And he says "yes" and walks over and I say "Oh my God, I love you." YES!!!!!!! Good one, Riss, and not freaky AT ALL. I amend it to say that I love his work, etc, and he asks me my name and we chat. He actually thought I knew him personally or something. I ask if I can pop inside and get my camera, and he agrees, so I walk to the doorway then literally RUN once I'm through the door. I rush to the table, throw out "OhMyGodJesseLMartinIsOutside" to the guys and grab my camera.
Meanwhile, outside, Abel is talking to Jesse just to make sure he doesn't leave. He tells him that every time he comes to my house, I've got all the Law and Orders Tivo'd. Mike and Steve follow me outside, we chat some more (he is a really nice guy) and then Abel takes the best picture ever. The cutest part of everything is that I was super giddy the rest of the night, and my four best friends were giddy too, just because they were so happy for me. I tried to stop randomly bursting into a huge smile and they were all like "Why are you trying to chill, enjoy it Riss." I love you guys!
Some other notes:
1. After the Cringe Humor comedy show (which was good), Mike and Tony dropped me, Abel and Steve off at Steve's place, where there was no liquor. Actually, there was dessert wine and (old I think) champagne. NOW, there's no more liquor.
2. We drunk dialed Maz. The Drunken Plan Maker strikes again and I think I somehow agreed to go to Australia next month for a week.
3. Abel loves to play Marvel Ultimate Alliance on 360 but it's too long of a name to keep saying so we just call the game "Coins" now.
4. Steve and I have been trying to find the grossest shot ever. So far it stands at tequila and bran flakes, which is extra disgusting because at the end of the shot, the pile of bran flakes has to be crunched and it tastes like solidified tequila chunks. Blech. Tequila and ketchup wasn't too bad though.
5. The waitresses and bartenders at The Patriot are SMOKIN. Our waitress Natalie was especially easy on the eyes AND a sweetheart. The owner is the same guy who owns Hogs and Heifers and Coyote Ugly and he rotates his staff. The regular bartender wasn't there though, and according to Mike she usually just wears tassles.
6. The bar played all country music, but had a few other CDs in the jukebox. Someone put on Creedence Clearwater Revival's "Have You Ever Seen The Rain" and all of us just leaned back and let me music wash over us. That song will forever remind me of one of the best nights ever.
7. I got to meet Heide's BFF Tim for the first time, and he rocks. They have matching tattoos, which you know, my goal is to eventually get a dragon on all my boyz. Tony's done, Abel will be soon and Geo will probably have it some time this year. Which leaves Steve and Mike. Heh. Mike's will be the size of a nickel and Steve's will be brown and located in his armpit.
8. Mike had to drive so he couldn't finish his Guinness. Tony didn't want it, so I turned it into an "Irish car bomb" (which you know, until that moment I hadn't thought about what a foul name that is for a drink) which is when you drop a shot of Baileys into the Guinness and down it. After I finished, Mike and Abel were just sitting there staring.
Abel: Dude, you're a fucking soldier.
Mike: I'll never be at your level.
9. Steve made us all personalized cookies. Mike's has a mustang on it, Tony's has a basketball, Abel's is in the shape of a heart (per his own request, "You know how I know you're gay..."), Geo's has a computer on it, Steve's has the symbol for Pi on it with I think 3.14159265 around it, Angelina's has a flower on it, Faith's has a smiley face on it and mine has a ham on it, because I'm lusting after a shirt that says "Talk to the ham" and a picture of a ham.
I look like an alien in this pic, or like my head is on backwards. "TALK TO THE HAM!!!"
February 15, 2007
My New Tattoo
The New Tattoo HNT
(Dan triggered a thought in the comments, so here is my one and only ever contribution to HNT. Have to try everything at least once right?)
So I got some new "flash" last Saturday:
(Dan triggered a thought in the comments, so here is my one and only ever contribution to HNT. Have to try everything at least once right?)
So I got some new "flash" last Saturday:
The one on the right is the new one. I got the Chinese tribal dragon in 1995,
the sun and stars of the Filipino flag in 1996 and the rose on my ankle in 1999.
Okay so you really have to trust your dentist AND your tattoo artist.
My little newborn tattoo right after birth, and Yoni!
Me and Steve went to see Les Mis right after. I walked into the place
in baggy jeans, my Punisher tank and a scully and left in a cocktail dress.
- Q&A about my tattoo:
Q: What is it and why did you choose it?
A: The phoenix, a mythical bird which can be reborn from its own flame and ashes at the end of its life cycle or when injured. Also known as the Firebird (which I played in my 1st grade school play), its tears have healing powers. The reasons behind the choice are fairly personal, but my close friends have told me that when they heard what I got, it made complete sense to them.
Q: What made you get another tattoo?
A: Well it was a surprise, I thought Steve and I were going to some crazy bar before the show. But I'd been wanting to get a tattoo to mark my 30th year and it's awesome that I got to share the experience with one of my best friends. So there it is, Bob's your uncle. (Sorry, just wanted to say that.)
Q: Does Geo like it?
A: Absolutely. He's jealous that I beat him to it, but we both knew that would happen. His next tattoo is going to be huge so it's going to take some designing and stuff.
Q: Who did it and where?
A: Yoni at New York Adorned, this awesome parlor on 3rd Street and Second Ave.
Q: How long did it take?
A: The actual tattooing part took a little over an hour and a half, but Yoni also had to draw the tattoo based on my concept. He is actually the best tattoo artist I've ever seen, and I've gotten or been with people who have gotten tattoos all over San Francisco, San Diego and L.A. He's amazing.
Q: Did it hurt? What does it feel like?
A: The initial outline in black is really what hurts the most, but it's not bad. I think with tattoos, the anticipation of the pain is a lot worse than the reality. After the first ten minutes or so the area kind of numbs up. When the needle hit the sensitive skin on my side however, those moments weren't too pleasant.
Q: Will you get more?
A: Eventually. My body is a canvas. With stretch marks, so maybe I'll avoid tattooing the front area and just stick to my back. I won't be getting another one anytime soon though.
Q: How much did it cost?
A: You'll have to ask Steve.
Q: Seriously?
A: Yes.
Q: Your friends really and truly spoil the shit out of you.
A: Wait, that's not a question. (But yeah, they do. They don't have to, but they do.)
January 31, 2007
Conversations with my friends
Conversations With My Friends
I love talking to my friends. And this is why:
Mike: I'm not sure if I'm even getting married one day.
Me: Oh yes you fucking are!! I already have the best man (woman) speech written. You're getting married if I have to drag your ass to the Philippines and buy you a fucking wife.
Steve: Hahahaha--
Me: What the hell are you laughing at? This goes for you too.
***
Kwame: What is this crap in the news with Jason and Joumana Kidd?
Me: It's insanity.
Kwame: Do you remember when we saw her at All-Star and you and Lani fell instantly in lust?
Me: Absolutely.
Kwame: She didn't have the implants in yet did she?
Me: No, we would have noticed if she did. And she unbuttoned her jacket right in front of me.
Kwame: In slow motion huh?
Me: Yes. And also, she was taking a shower.
Kwame: And throwing her hair back like in the shampoo commercials.
Me: And licking her lips. Let's not talk about this anymore.
Kwame: Let's talk about her name then. What kind of name is that?
Me: Maybe it means something in a different language? I don't know, it's "ethnic."
Kwame: Okay see, that bugs me. It's not "ethnic" to just make up a name.
Me: You know that your people are the worst offenders in that right?
Kwame (heaving a deep sigh): Yes, I realize this.
***
Me: So do you spit or swallow?
Someone: I'm not telling you.
Me: Why not, we're all friends here.
Someone: Well it depends.
Me: Depends on what?
Someone: On what they ate that day.
Me: "They"? How many dicks are you sucking?
Someone: Shut up! You know what I meant.
Me: I know, I'm JUST KIDDING. Anyway so what do you mean it depends on what they ate that day?
Someone: Well you know, because you can taste it, what they ate that day.
Me: Wait, what do you mean you can taste it, as in you can taste EXACTLY what they ate that day?
Someone: You know what I mean.
Me: No, no I don't. Are you saying you can swallow his junk, then break it down into the individual components like "Mmmmmmm... you ate a cheese burger, chicken nuggets and three Fritos today."
Someone: NO!!!!!!!!!!! You know what I mean!!
Someone Else: Drinking men's sperm and telling them what they ate that day is your mutant power.
Someone Else Else: So... What did your dog eat today?
The Table: HAHAHAHAHAHA--- FUCK. That's wrong.
***
Me: I looked up who was linking to my blog and found some site that I thought was yet another pron spam site, but it was a guy's blog, listing bangable bloggers.
Geo: Really, so does this mean that random guys are going to be jerking off and thinking about you now?
Me: Does it bother you to think of guys jerking off to me? It didn't use to.
Geo: No, it still doesn't.
Me: As long as they're not standing outside our window peeping in.
Geo (hiding in the curtains): Doing this... *really graphic noise that sounds pretty accurate*
Me: HAHAHAHAHA EEEW okay, you officially took the joke too far with that noise.
***
Jules: There is no way anyone could fit that thing in.
Me: She said her real vibrator was that big.
Baby D: Yeah but it broke.
Me: I banged a guy once who made that shit look small. Just once though, and then I had to recover for a week.
Min: Is that the story where you tried to run away?
Me (gesturing to illustrate size): Oh fuck yeah. I was almost out the door but he caught me and we proceeded to debate the elasticity of the vagina. I lost the argument. It's my fault really, he warned me even before we hooked up and I didn't listen.
Min: What was he?
Me: He was a white guy.
The Table: REALLY????????????
Mike (to Min): What are you looking at ME for?? Because I'm white??
Me (gasping for air): She's speculating on the size of your penis.
Min: I wasn't looking at you!!!!!!!!!
The Table: Yeah you were!!!!
Me: Don't you know how rude it is to speculate on how big your friend's penis is?
Min: I wasn't!!!!!!!!!
Mike: She was like a deer caught in headlights.
Me (whispering): Fuck with her.
Mike (leering): Hey MIn.... How yoooooooooo doin?
I love talking to my friends. And this is why:
Mike: I'm not sure if I'm even getting married one day.
Me: Oh yes you fucking are!! I already have the best man (woman) speech written. You're getting married if I have to drag your ass to the Philippines and buy you a fucking wife.
Steve: Hahahaha--
Me: What the hell are you laughing at? This goes for you too.
***
Kwame: What is this crap in the news with Jason and Joumana Kidd?
Me: It's insanity.
Kwame: Do you remember when we saw her at All-Star and you and Lani fell instantly in lust?
Me: Absolutely.
Kwame: She didn't have the implants in yet did she?
Me: No, we would have noticed if she did. And she unbuttoned her jacket right in front of me.
Kwame: In slow motion huh?
Me: Yes. And also, she was taking a shower.
Kwame: And throwing her hair back like in the shampoo commercials.
Me: And licking her lips. Let's not talk about this anymore.
Kwame: Let's talk about her name then. What kind of name is that?
Me: Maybe it means something in a different language? I don't know, it's "ethnic."
Kwame: Okay see, that bugs me. It's not "ethnic" to just make up a name.
Me: You know that your people are the worst offenders in that right?
Kwame (heaving a deep sigh): Yes, I realize this.
***
Me: So do you spit or swallow?
Someone: I'm not telling you.
Me: Why not, we're all friends here.
Someone: Well it depends.
Me: Depends on what?
Someone: On what they ate that day.
Me: "They"? How many dicks are you sucking?
Someone: Shut up! You know what I meant.
Me: I know, I'm JUST KIDDING. Anyway so what do you mean it depends on what they ate that day?
Someone: Well you know, because you can taste it, what they ate that day.
Me: Wait, what do you mean you can taste it, as in you can taste EXACTLY what they ate that day?
Someone: You know what I mean.
Me: No, no I don't. Are you saying you can swallow his junk, then break it down into the individual components like "Mmmmmmm... you ate a cheese burger, chicken nuggets and three Fritos today."
Someone: NO!!!!!!!!!!! You know what I mean!!
Someone Else: Drinking men's sperm and telling them what they ate that day is your mutant power.
Someone Else Else: So... What did your dog eat today?
The Table: HAHAHAHAHAHA--- FUCK. That's wrong.
***
Me: I looked up who was linking to my blog and found some site that I thought was yet another pron spam site, but it was a guy's blog, listing bangable bloggers.
Geo: Really, so does this mean that random guys are going to be jerking off and thinking about you now?
Me: Does it bother you to think of guys jerking off to me? It didn't use to.
Geo: No, it still doesn't.
Me: As long as they're not standing outside our window peeping in.
Geo (hiding in the curtains): Doing this... *really graphic noise that sounds pretty accurate*
Me: HAHAHAHAHA EEEW okay, you officially took the joke too far with that noise.
***
Jules: There is no way anyone could fit that thing in.
Me: She said her real vibrator was that big.
Baby D: Yeah but it broke.
Me: I banged a guy once who made that shit look small. Just once though, and then I had to recover for a week.
Min: Is that the story where you tried to run away?
Me (gesturing to illustrate size): Oh fuck yeah. I was almost out the door but he caught me and we proceeded to debate the elasticity of the vagina. I lost the argument. It's my fault really, he warned me even before we hooked up and I didn't listen.
Min: What was he?
Me: He was a white guy.
The Table: REALLY????????????
Mike (to Min): What are you looking at ME for?? Because I'm white??
Me (gasping for air): She's speculating on the size of your penis.
Min: I wasn't looking at you!!!!!!!!!
The Table: Yeah you were!!!!
Me: Don't you know how rude it is to speculate on how big your friend's penis is?
Min: I wasn't!!!!!!!!!
Mike: She was like a deer caught in headlights.
Me (whispering): Fuck with her.
Mike (leering): Hey MIn.... How yoooooooooo doin?
January 3, 2007
Duh
Duh
I'm an idiot, on about a hundred levels. But today's level stems from the reason I no longer have a cell phone.
"Honey, where is my phone?"
"It's MY phone!"
"Where is MOMMY'S phone?"
"It's taking a bath."
But I don't pay her any mind, because really. Phones don't take baths and my girls don't even have access to the bathroom.
Hours later, as we're about to leave so that Geo can attend a wake near Philadelphia, I ask my daughter again where my phone is. And she replies again, very patiently because she is speaking to an idiot, "It's taking a bath." And then the puzzle pieces slowly begin to form a picture and I run to the bathroom. There, in the middle of their inflatable duck bathtub is my cell phone. Underwater. Taking a bath.
I guess she ran in with my aunt or grandma while I was cleaning the kitchen, and managed to toss it in before she got shooed out. I'm fairly certain the culprit was Faith, Angelina's arms were wet so it looks as if at some point she tried to save it. Or drown it. I can't believe it never occurred to me that they would do something like that with my phone. It should have. THEY'RE THREE. This is what three-year-olds do.
On the plus side, after a 5-hour bath I now have one very clean cell phone. When you move it side to side, it looks like one of those pens where the ink drains away and shows you someone nekkid.
I'm an idiot, on about a hundred levels. But today's level stems from the reason I no longer have a cell phone.
"Honey, where is my phone?"
"It's MY phone!"
"Where is MOMMY'S phone?"
"It's taking a bath."
But I don't pay her any mind, because really. Phones don't take baths and my girls don't even have access to the bathroom.
Hours later, as we're about to leave so that Geo can attend a wake near Philadelphia, I ask my daughter again where my phone is. And she replies again, very patiently because she is speaking to an idiot, "It's taking a bath." And then the puzzle pieces slowly begin to form a picture and I run to the bathroom. There, in the middle of their inflatable duck bathtub is my cell phone. Underwater. Taking a bath.
I guess she ran in with my aunt or grandma while I was cleaning the kitchen, and managed to toss it in before she got shooed out. I'm fairly certain the culprit was Faith, Angelina's arms were wet so it looks as if at some point she tried to save it. Or drown it. I can't believe it never occurred to me that they would do something like that with my phone. It should have. THEY'RE THREE. This is what three-year-olds do.
On the plus side, after a 5-hour bath I now have one very clean cell phone. When you move it side to side, it looks like one of those pens where the ink drains away and shows you someone nekkid.
December 26, 2006
End Of The Year Letters
End Of The Year Letters
Merry Christmas everyone!! I still haven't sent our Christmas cards out, but as long as they're postmarked in 2006 it's okay right. Everyone else seems to be lagging too, I received about 20 cards the day before Christmas.
One of my New Year's resolutions is to be a nicer person. So I also have some letters to send out, before the year ends. This may take a few posts, if I have to get it all out of my system by December 31st.
Dear Neighborhoodlums,
I'm sorry I threw the Krazy Glue tube you were feeding to my dogs at you. I'm sorry it wasn't a large rock and that the wind threw off my aim.
Dear VW,
Geo and I will be boycotting your cars, forever. All this is despite your very clever advertising campaigns. The guy running and launching himself into the shopping cart before it hits his car is priceless. Your "My Fast" commercials are also funny and have sent me to Ebay more than once to check out prices on my own personal little fast. Even your more somber commercials with the car accidents are good. So why are we boycotting you, do you ask. Did you molest your Boy Scout troop? Drown a sackful of kittens? Rip a hole in the Ozone layer that's larger than Greenland? No, WORSE. You refused to give permission for the VW bug to be used in the Transformers movie coming out next summer, and now Bumblebee will be a Camaro. A fucking Camaro. Bumblebee can't be a goddamn Camaro. Next you'll be saying that Sideswipe and Sunstreaker will be twin pintos. I hate you. I hate you and I hope you die.
Dear Johnny Black,
I am boycotting you too, but more for reasons having to do with me taking off my pants in public than anything else. The drunken thought process is so ridiculously simplistic. "I'm hot. Let me just take off my pants on this random street in Newark."
Dear Dewars,
Same goes for you. Good Lord. Also, you taste like ass in the summer.
Dear everyone I ever come into contact with,
Dear People at Geo's Work,
Don't listen to him when he tells you that I wear his clothes to sleep, just to mark my territory with my scent. That is a big lie. I would never be so subtle. Instead, I pee on him while he sleeps. Sorry about the asparagus.
Dear T.O.,
I think you need a few more of those pills. Guess what, when your quarterback throws a perfect pitch and it falls right between your hands and you drop it... that's YOUR fault. That's not his fault for not throwing it to you sooner. That's YOUR fault for completely and utterly failing at what you are paid jillions of dollars to do, and that is catch the ball during a three-hour time slot on Sundays. Or the occasional Monday. Or Saturday. Sometimes a Thursday.
Dear People Who've Been Saying That Tony Romo is The Second Coming Of Joe Montana, Dan Marino, John Elway, Brett Favre, Whatever,
I sure did laugh a lot on Christmas day, picturing your angst. Oh come on, you know it's funny.
Dear Christmas shoppers,
What is it about the holiday season that frazzles you so much? Sure there's extra stress for everyone but do you REALLY have to bump into me, then walk away without so much as an "Excuse me?" Must you pull out of parking spaces without looking? Is it really necessary to push your shopping cart into me, sending me into a display of "Dress-Up Dora" dolls and one misplaced "Elmo Knows Your Name?"
Merry Christmas everyone!! I still haven't sent our Christmas cards out, but as long as they're postmarked in 2006 it's okay right. Everyone else seems to be lagging too, I received about 20 cards the day before Christmas.
One of my New Year's resolutions is to be a nicer person. So I also have some letters to send out, before the year ends. This may take a few posts, if I have to get it all out of my system by December 31st.
Dear Neighborhoodlums,
I'm sorry I threw the Krazy Glue tube you were feeding to my dogs at you. I'm sorry it wasn't a large rock and that the wind threw off my aim.
Dear VW,
Geo and I will be boycotting your cars, forever. All this is despite your very clever advertising campaigns. The guy running and launching himself into the shopping cart before it hits his car is priceless. Your "My Fast" commercials are also funny and have sent me to Ebay more than once to check out prices on my own personal little fast. Even your more somber commercials with the car accidents are good. So why are we boycotting you, do you ask. Did you molest your Boy Scout troop? Drown a sackful of kittens? Rip a hole in the Ozone layer that's larger than Greenland? No, WORSE. You refused to give permission for the VW bug to be used in the Transformers movie coming out next summer, and now Bumblebee will be a Camaro. A fucking Camaro. Bumblebee can't be a goddamn Camaro. Next you'll be saying that Sideswipe and Sunstreaker will be twin pintos. I hate you. I hate you and I hope you die.
Dear Johnny Black,
I am boycotting you too, but more for reasons having to do with me taking off my pants in public than anything else. The drunken thought process is so ridiculously simplistic. "I'm hot. Let me just take off my pants on this random street in Newark."
Dear Dewars,
Same goes for you. Good Lord. Also, you taste like ass in the summer.
Dear everyone I ever come into contact with,
Dear People at Geo's Work,
Don't listen to him when he tells you that I wear his clothes to sleep, just to mark my territory with my scent. That is a big lie. I would never be so subtle. Instead, I pee on him while he sleeps. Sorry about the asparagus.
Dear T.O.,
I think you need a few more of those pills. Guess what, when your quarterback throws a perfect pitch and it falls right between your hands and you drop it... that's YOUR fault. That's not his fault for not throwing it to you sooner. That's YOUR fault for completely and utterly failing at what you are paid jillions of dollars to do, and that is catch the ball during a three-hour time slot on Sundays. Or the occasional Monday. Or Saturday. Sometimes a Thursday.
Dear People Who've Been Saying That Tony Romo is The Second Coming Of Joe Montana, Dan Marino, John Elway, Brett Favre, Whatever,
I sure did laugh a lot on Christmas day, picturing your angst. Oh come on, you know it's funny.
Dear Christmas shoppers,
What is it about the holiday season that frazzles you so much? Sure there's extra stress for everyone but do you REALLY have to bump into me, then walk away without so much as an "Excuse me?" Must you pull out of parking spaces without looking? Is it really necessary to push your shopping cart into me, sending me into a display of "Dress-Up Dora" dolls and one misplaced "Elmo Knows Your Name?"
September 15, 2006
At The Gym Some More
At The Gym Some More
(i.e. More "Thoughts On The Treadmill" and then some.)
Inner Monologue on the Treadmill:
This treadmill isn't so bad, it has a good view of the television. Unless of course someone takes the treadmill right in front of-- and there it is. Oh well, I have my iPod for a reason. And this chick does have a really nice ass. They're like two cantaloupes hanging out next to each other. I love cantaloupes, especially that Filipino melon drink. Wow, her ass really does look like two cantaloupes. I should probably stop staring in case she turns around. Oh, what do I care. She blocked Sportscenter. The least she could do is let me stare at her ass until I'm finished on this Instrument of Hell. I like how it seems like I'm jammin' to some hip-hop song but really it's "I'm Blue" by Eiffel 65. If they only knew. Hey there's my fake Gym Boyfriend walking in. And he's not wearing a hat this time, oh good. I never get to see his face. He needs to lose the shell necklace though. Those are awful. Why do men wear those. It's not cute. How many minutes have I been on this thing, it must be at least 20... 5. Five??? Five freaking minutes??? This sucks. I hate the gym.
Inner Monologue at the "Body Sculpting" Class:
I didn't bring my very own what are those called... Yoga mat. Speaking of which, how does yoga even help tone anything, don't you just lay on a mat and breathe for awhile? Like those overweight movie stars that say they lost 60 lbs due to yoga. Rooooiiiiiiiighht. Hey, focus, focus! I don't have a mat. Okay they have ones you can borrow, eeew, let's not think about how many dirty people have sweated all over this thing after a long day at work. It's not like YOU just took a bath. You dirtball. Okay focus, we're about to begin "Body Sculpting." What are they going to sculpt me with anyway, a chisel? HA HA HA! Damn that joke was so stupid and yet I cracked myself up. Now people are looking at me, they think I'm "The Crazy Girl At The Gym." So what bitches, turn back around and keep watching yourself in the mirror and lifting weights. Do I have to do everything around here.
Well, that wasn't so bad. I kind of jammed through the first half. WOO-HOO what's next! I rock, I rock... oh fuck. The instructor wants us to grab the "Swedish Balls." Oh please let that mean some hot Stefan Edberg-y guy is standing around here naked. Or that someone just got take-out from IKEA. Please don't let it be that big bouncy ball of torture. Dammit, yes there it is. I hate these things. Okay for the first exercise we're going to balance on top of the ball and push our legs to the ceiling with our hips. What??? Why don't we start with something easier, like sitting on the ball and clapping our hands or something. Fuck. Five bucks say I fall off my ball first. Yes, I win. Another five bucks says I'm the only one in this class of smarmy people that does. Yes, I win again. I hate the gym.
Inner Monologue on the Nautilus Machines:
Let's start with my favorite machine, just because it gives me time to think about which one I'll use next. Remember, low weights high reps. That will tone me up without making me all bulgy. Like that woman. Oooh look, her and her friends are eyeballing how much weight I'm using. Hey! 30 lbs is respectable, low weights high reps you bitches. Then I won't look like you, all fucking Mrs. Schwarzeneggers. No wait, that's Maria Shriver and she's girly. Well, you know what I mean, you bulgy muscular freaks. Keep walking. Yeah, that's right, I'm straight. And what!!! Straight people go to the gym too you know. Damn, they left. Now what am I going to look at. Well lookee-here who just sat down at the pull-y thing in front of me. It's my hot fake Gym Boyfriend. Hoo-waaah, that is one nice body. Look at those arms. Perfection. Look at that back, beautiful. Look at... Oh no. Dammit, I knew it. His face is all messed up. Well there it is, proof that there is no God, or if there is one he's really mean. No benevolent God would put a face like that on a body like that. It's just cruel. Oh good, my reps are over. Time for a new machine.
Hey it's Useless Gym Girl! I'm so happy! Let's see, okay her boyfriend is telling her where he's going to be and what he's going to be doing. Will she be okay by herself? Will she? Will she? Yes! Apparently she will. And now she's going over to the knee side to side machine and putting it at the lowest weight. Side to side four times... wait where are you going? Must not have liked that machine, going to the butterfly one. Lowest weight... four times. Wait, she's getting up again. What's going on here. Oh my Lord she's going to use every single machine in here at the lowest weight four times and then leave. She really does live up to her name. She didn't touch the anal pron machine though. I don't blame her. Geo makes fun but I don't use the anal pron machine unless he's around. Someone might poke me. "No one will poke you Riss," Geo says. Yes, they just might. Because I'm on my hands and knees with my ass in the air and when I see people do that I feel like poking them. "If someone pokes you it will be me." Well then that's why I need you in front of me to make sure people don't poke me, and to make sure you don't poke me either.
Alrighty then, last machine. Okay I need to take my mind off how boring this is. So what does this thing do? Ahh, I am working out my trapezius and my rhomboids. Those lazy rhomboids! Think they can just sit around eating bon-bons on the couch and watching "Montel" all day. You have to stay on top of them or they don't do their jobs. And that trapezius, once I caught him drinking milk out of the gallon container just so he wouldn't have to wash a cup. Take this you lazy ass punk! And this! And this! And this! Okay, high reps suck. I hate the gym.
(i.e. More "Thoughts On The Treadmill" and then some.)
Inner Monologue on the Treadmill:
This treadmill isn't so bad, it has a good view of the television. Unless of course someone takes the treadmill right in front of-- and there it is. Oh well, I have my iPod for a reason. And this chick does have a really nice ass. They're like two cantaloupes hanging out next to each other. I love cantaloupes, especially that Filipino melon drink. Wow, her ass really does look like two cantaloupes. I should probably stop staring in case she turns around. Oh, what do I care. She blocked Sportscenter. The least she could do is let me stare at her ass until I'm finished on this Instrument of Hell. I like how it seems like I'm jammin' to some hip-hop song but really it's "I'm Blue" by Eiffel 65. If they only knew. Hey there's my fake Gym Boyfriend walking in. And he's not wearing a hat this time, oh good. I never get to see his face. He needs to lose the shell necklace though. Those are awful. Why do men wear those. It's not cute. How many minutes have I been on this thing, it must be at least 20... 5. Five??? Five freaking minutes??? This sucks. I hate the gym.
Inner Monologue at the "Body Sculpting" Class:
I didn't bring my very own what are those called... Yoga mat. Speaking of which, how does yoga even help tone anything, don't you just lay on a mat and breathe for awhile? Like those overweight movie stars that say they lost 60 lbs due to yoga. Rooooiiiiiiiighht. Hey, focus, focus! I don't have a mat. Okay they have ones you can borrow, eeew, let's not think about how many dirty people have sweated all over this thing after a long day at work. It's not like YOU just took a bath. You dirtball. Okay focus, we're about to begin "Body Sculpting." What are they going to sculpt me with anyway, a chisel? HA HA HA! Damn that joke was so stupid and yet I cracked myself up. Now people are looking at me, they think I'm "The Crazy Girl At The Gym." So what bitches, turn back around and keep watching yourself in the mirror and lifting weights. Do I have to do everything around here.
Well, that wasn't so bad. I kind of jammed through the first half. WOO-HOO what's next! I rock, I rock... oh fuck. The instructor wants us to grab the "Swedish Balls." Oh please let that mean some hot Stefan Edberg-y guy is standing around here naked. Or that someone just got take-out from IKEA. Please don't let it be that big bouncy ball of torture. Dammit, yes there it is. I hate these things. Okay for the first exercise we're going to balance on top of the ball and push our legs to the ceiling with our hips. What??? Why don't we start with something easier, like sitting on the ball and clapping our hands or something. Fuck. Five bucks say I fall off my ball first. Yes, I win. Another five bucks says I'm the only one in this class of smarmy people that does. Yes, I win again. I hate the gym.
Inner Monologue on the Nautilus Machines:
Let's start with my favorite machine, just because it gives me time to think about which one I'll use next. Remember, low weights high reps. That will tone me up without making me all bulgy. Like that woman. Oooh look, her and her friends are eyeballing how much weight I'm using. Hey! 30 lbs is respectable, low weights high reps you bitches. Then I won't look like you, all fucking Mrs. Schwarzeneggers. No wait, that's Maria Shriver and she's girly. Well, you know what I mean, you bulgy muscular freaks. Keep walking. Yeah, that's right, I'm straight. And what!!! Straight people go to the gym too you know. Damn, they left. Now what am I going to look at. Well lookee-here who just sat down at the pull-y thing in front of me. It's my hot fake Gym Boyfriend. Hoo-waaah, that is one nice body. Look at those arms. Perfection. Look at that back, beautiful. Look at... Oh no. Dammit, I knew it. His face is all messed up. Well there it is, proof that there is no God, or if there is one he's really mean. No benevolent God would put a face like that on a body like that. It's just cruel. Oh good, my reps are over. Time for a new machine.
Hey it's Useless Gym Girl! I'm so happy! Let's see, okay her boyfriend is telling her where he's going to be and what he's going to be doing. Will she be okay by herself? Will she? Will she? Yes! Apparently she will. And now she's going over to the knee side to side machine and putting it at the lowest weight. Side to side four times... wait where are you going? Must not have liked that machine, going to the butterfly one. Lowest weight... four times. Wait, she's getting up again. What's going on here. Oh my Lord she's going to use every single machine in here at the lowest weight four times and then leave. She really does live up to her name. She didn't touch the anal pron machine though. I don't blame her. Geo makes fun but I don't use the anal pron machine unless he's around. Someone might poke me. "No one will poke you Riss," Geo says. Yes, they just might. Because I'm on my hands and knees with my ass in the air and when I see people do that I feel like poking them. "If someone pokes you it will be me." Well then that's why I need you in front of me to make sure people don't poke me, and to make sure you don't poke me either.
Alrighty then, last machine. Okay I need to take my mind off how boring this is. So what does this thing do? Ahh, I am working out my trapezius and my rhomboids. Those lazy rhomboids! Think they can just sit around eating bon-bons on the couch and watching "Montel" all day. You have to stay on top of them or they don't do their jobs. And that trapezius, once I caught him drinking milk out of the gallon container just so he wouldn't have to wash a cup. Take this you lazy ass punk! And this! And this! And this! Okay, high reps suck. I hate the gym.
July 16, 2006
Inner Monologue On The Treadmill
Inner Monologue On The Treadmill
The following is an inexact transcript of the silent conversation I had with myself while on the treadmill this morning:
How do you work this thing again. Oh yeah, put the round magnet on that round magnet thing and hit start. Yes, it's moving. Let's crank this baby up a notch. Okay we're strolling, we're strolling. Let's get some good strolling music on. Here's some "Crazy" by Gnarls Barkley. Good strolling song but Leah hates this song. Why does she hate this song? It has a good beat. Oh well. She's not here. What kind of name is Gnarls Barkley anyway, it's like naming yourself Bennis Rodman. Or Jakeem Olajuwon. Stupid. Hey that guy in the blue shorts looks like Brian Austen Green. That's what we'll call him then, Brian Austen Green. Hey Brian. How are you doing today Brian. Remember me from high school? You keep walking around the gym but you're not sweating or anything. Get on a treadmill you lazy bastard. That's why you're stuck doing stupid movies like Domino. Hey where are you going? I'm sorry I was mean. No I'm not. Lame ass Brian Austen Green.
The song's over. If you're alone and you need a friend... crap it's "Boom Boom Boom Boom." I can't stroll to this. I'm going to have to change the song or start strut sashaying. Okay, I'll strut sashay. If someone's behind me they're probably laughing because I look so stupid doing this. "Boom boom boom boom I want you in my room, let's spend the night together, together in my room." Dang. This girl just met the guy and she's already taking him back to her place. Isn't she worried he might be some crazy serial killer. Foolish girl. She thinks she's taking him back to her place to bump uglies but really he's going to chop her up and take her back to his place in a cooler. Also, there's AIDS. What if he has AIDS? People these days.
Hey there's Useless Gym Girl. What does her shirt say... "Your boyfriend thinks I'm hot." Yeah he does. Especially when he's peeing and it burns. Then he thinks "Damn, that bitch was hot." I wonder what workout she's going to do in canvas daisy dukes. Also, isn't that material highly conducive to chafing? Useless Gym Girl is too long of a name though. And UGG is unpleasant to say. We'll call her "Houseplant." That's what DJ Metronome calls the hot girl at his bar who can't bartend. Houseplant. Hahahaha holy fuck that's funny as hell. That guy is funny.
Alright next song, next song. Oh crap it's "Pump It." That means I have to sprint. We'll crank it up to... oh shit, too fast, too fast. Who do you think you are, Jackie Joyner Kersee. We're running, we're running. Damn this is a long song. How many seconds have passed. 13. 13 fucking seconds?? That's it?? Oh my God. This is the longest song in the history of the fucking world. Stupid Black Eyed Peas. Stupid Black Eyed Peas and their stupid long ass songs. Okay how many seconds has it been now. 28?? Fuck fuck fuck. You can do this. Don't die. Wow my heartbeat is going awfully fast. Is that safe? Or am I going to be like those people that snort coke for the first time and then die because their heart beats too fast. Like Regina Morrow in that Sweet Valley High book. That was so sad. She was so nice and smart and even had a modeling career going for her. And then what happens. She snorts coke at a party because her slut boyfriend Bruce Patman made out with slutty ass Amy Whats-Her-Face.
Okay we're going to have to go back to strut sashaying. I'm tired. Hey that guy is cute. Eeew, no he's not. I wonder if Geo is going to walk by anytime soon. He's hot.
*45 minutes later*
Okay 5 more minutes. 5 more minutes. Also, suck in your gut for the last 5 minutes. Work out those abs. What abs? Okay work towards those abs. Suck it in beeyatch!! Okay okay. I'm sucking, I'm sucking. Wait, that didn't come out right. How weird that these seconds are ticking by slower than normal seconds. The Normal Second to Treadmill Second ratio is like 3:1. Freaking treadmill time. Almost done. I wonder what Geo is doing. He's probably doing that crazy ab thing where he hangs on the bar and lifts his legs up. I should do that. Yeah right. I should go have a burrito is what I should fricken do. Or maybe some pizza. Yum. Or maybe some burritos and a pizza. That works. Okay we're finished. Thank God. And you're still alive. Remember to hang out for a moment on the treadmill so you don't get vertigo when you step off. I said remember to-- never mind.
The following is an inexact transcript of the silent conversation I had with myself while on the treadmill this morning:
How do you work this thing again. Oh yeah, put the round magnet on that round magnet thing and hit start. Yes, it's moving. Let's crank this baby up a notch. Okay we're strolling, we're strolling. Let's get some good strolling music on. Here's some "Crazy" by Gnarls Barkley. Good strolling song but Leah hates this song. Why does she hate this song? It has a good beat. Oh well. She's not here. What kind of name is Gnarls Barkley anyway, it's like naming yourself Bennis Rodman. Or Jakeem Olajuwon. Stupid. Hey that guy in the blue shorts looks like Brian Austen Green. That's what we'll call him then, Brian Austen Green. Hey Brian. How are you doing today Brian. Remember me from high school? You keep walking around the gym but you're not sweating or anything. Get on a treadmill you lazy bastard. That's why you're stuck doing stupid movies like Domino. Hey where are you going? I'm sorry I was mean. No I'm not. Lame ass Brian Austen Green.
The song's over. If you're alone and you need a friend... crap it's "Boom Boom Boom Boom." I can't stroll to this. I'm going to have to change the song or start strut sashaying. Okay, I'll strut sashay. If someone's behind me they're probably laughing because I look so stupid doing this. "Boom boom boom boom I want you in my room, let's spend the night together, together in my room." Dang. This girl just met the guy and she's already taking him back to her place. Isn't she worried he might be some crazy serial killer. Foolish girl. She thinks she's taking him back to her place to bump uglies but really he's going to chop her up and take her back to his place in a cooler. Also, there's AIDS. What if he has AIDS? People these days.
Hey there's Useless Gym Girl. What does her shirt say... "Your boyfriend thinks I'm hot." Yeah he does. Especially when he's peeing and it burns. Then he thinks "Damn, that bitch was hot." I wonder what workout she's going to do in canvas daisy dukes. Also, isn't that material highly conducive to chafing? Useless Gym Girl is too long of a name though. And UGG is unpleasant to say. We'll call her "Houseplant." That's what DJ Metronome calls the hot girl at his bar who can't bartend. Houseplant. Hahahaha holy fuck that's funny as hell. That guy is funny.
Alright next song, next song. Oh crap it's "Pump It." That means I have to sprint. We'll crank it up to... oh shit, too fast, too fast. Who do you think you are, Jackie Joyner Kersee. We're running, we're running. Damn this is a long song. How many seconds have passed. 13. 13 fucking seconds?? That's it?? Oh my God. This is the longest song in the history of the fucking world. Stupid Black Eyed Peas. Stupid Black Eyed Peas and their stupid long ass songs. Okay how many seconds has it been now. 28?? Fuck fuck fuck. You can do this. Don't die. Wow my heartbeat is going awfully fast. Is that safe? Or am I going to be like those people that snort coke for the first time and then die because their heart beats too fast. Like Regina Morrow in that Sweet Valley High book. That was so sad. She was so nice and smart and even had a modeling career going for her. And then what happens. She snorts coke at a party because her slut boyfriend Bruce Patman made out with slutty ass Amy Whats-Her-Face.
Okay we're going to have to go back to strut sashaying. I'm tired. Hey that guy is cute. Eeew, no he's not. I wonder if Geo is going to walk by anytime soon. He's hot.
*45 minutes later*
Okay 5 more minutes. 5 more minutes. Also, suck in your gut for the last 5 minutes. Work out those abs. What abs? Okay work towards those abs. Suck it in beeyatch!! Okay okay. I'm sucking, I'm sucking. Wait, that didn't come out right. How weird that these seconds are ticking by slower than normal seconds. The Normal Second to Treadmill Second ratio is like 3:1. Freaking treadmill time. Almost done. I wonder what Geo is doing. He's probably doing that crazy ab thing where he hangs on the bar and lifts his legs up. I should do that. Yeah right. I should go have a burrito is what I should fricken do. Or maybe some pizza. Yum. Or maybe some burritos and a pizza. That works. Okay we're finished. Thank God. And you're still alive. Remember to hang out for a moment on the treadmill so you don't get vertigo when you step off. I said remember to-- never mind.
June 13, 2006
Yet More Letters
Yet More Letters
I am too lazy to send out any letters (again). So I will just write them here (again).
Dear Houlihan's,
Thank you so much for having the three dollar Creme Brulee on your dessert menu. It tasted sublime. Experiencing delicious creme brulee at Houlihan's of all places was like getting the best sex of your life from a crackhead with no teeth, but I appreciate it.
Dear Jersey City Meter Maid,
Thank you for telling our neighbor "If I have to work on a Saturday then they are getting this ticket." You are a shining example of what a cop should be. You make people feel safe and happy. By the way, while you are working Saturdays, your husband is banging your best friend. Because she's not as much of a bitch as you.
Dear Starbursts,
You suck as a candy.
Dear Steve,
I had a sex dream about you a few nights ago. But as with all my sex dreams, the sex was just implied, versus actually engaged in. We ran around my aunt's mansion (which was green and straight out of a Roald Dahl book) then finally ran across the train tracks in her backyard to an old church. There, in a confessional with a plush, puke green carpet, I assume we did it. Afterwards, I looked up over your shoulder and there was a woman hanging by her neck from the rafters. So we ran like hell and then the ghosts of a bunch of Revolutionary War-era people who had been lynched started chasing us, like the ghosts in The Sixth Sense. Yes, I'm a freak and my sex dreams are awful.
And on a real life note, I'm sorry you walked in on me standing in your kitchen in my underwear, at 4 in the morning, shoveling White Castle french fries into my mouth like they were manna from heaven, while everyone else was passed out in the living room. You were very blase. I walked in on one of my friends once while he was in the shower, and stood there frozen for awhile, until I finally said "Um, I thought the shower door was more opaque than that" then left.
Dear Eric,
Sorry about that by the way.
Dear Antonio Banderas,
I was wandering through Target the other day and...
Dear PSE&G,
I still hate you but no longer hope you die. That would be too easy. Instead, I hope you're given a hundred thousand paper cuts, then covered in sea salt, then bathed in vinegar, then set on fire. And after you stopped, dropped and rolled, I hope you're set on fire again. Also, I hate you and hope you die.
Dear Rich People,
Can I have some of your money? I really need it. Thanks.
Dear Blogger,
Soon I will be leaving you. And you will miss me, like they all do. While we're together they think "God, she's such a fucking bitch. If she talks smack to me one more time I will knock her upside her smarmy little head." And then after I'm gone, they realize that sanity often comes for the price of boredom and they miss me. That will be you Blogger. I have been faithful to you for four-and-a-half years, not counting that tiny indiscretion when I flirted for a minute with Livejournal. In return for my love, passion and fidelity, you've rewarded me with increased server outages and an inability to categorize my posts. One day you will look back and think... "She was a bitch, but she was MY bitch and oh how I miss her."
Dear Neighborhood Kids Who Curse Me and Throw Bottles At My Dogs,
If I could get away with it, I would pick you up and punt you into that yard with the two Dobermans.
I am too lazy to send out any letters (again). So I will just write them here (again).
Dear Houlihan's,
Thank you so much for having the three dollar Creme Brulee on your dessert menu. It tasted sublime. Experiencing delicious creme brulee at Houlihan's of all places was like getting the best sex of your life from a crackhead with no teeth, but I appreciate it.
Dear Jersey City Meter Maid,
Thank you for telling our neighbor "If I have to work on a Saturday then they are getting this ticket." You are a shining example of what a cop should be. You make people feel safe and happy. By the way, while you are working Saturdays, your husband is banging your best friend. Because she's not as much of a bitch as you.
Dear Starbursts,
You suck as a candy.
Dear Steve,
I had a sex dream about you a few nights ago. But as with all my sex dreams, the sex was just implied, versus actually engaged in. We ran around my aunt's mansion (which was green and straight out of a Roald Dahl book) then finally ran across the train tracks in her backyard to an old church. There, in a confessional with a plush, puke green carpet, I assume we did it. Afterwards, I looked up over your shoulder and there was a woman hanging by her neck from the rafters. So we ran like hell and then the ghosts of a bunch of Revolutionary War-era people who had been lynched started chasing us, like the ghosts in The Sixth Sense. Yes, I'm a freak and my sex dreams are awful.
And on a real life note, I'm sorry you walked in on me standing in your kitchen in my underwear, at 4 in the morning, shoveling White Castle french fries into my mouth like they were manna from heaven, while everyone else was passed out in the living room. You were very blase. I walked in on one of my friends once while he was in the shower, and stood there frozen for awhile, until I finally said "Um, I thought the shower door was more opaque than that" then left.
Dear Eric,
Sorry about that by the way.
Dear Antonio Banderas,
I was wandering through Target the other day and...
Dear PSE&G,
I still hate you but no longer hope you die. That would be too easy. Instead, I hope you're given a hundred thousand paper cuts, then covered in sea salt, then bathed in vinegar, then set on fire. And after you stopped, dropped and rolled, I hope you're set on fire again. Also, I hate you and hope you die.
Dear Rich People,
Can I have some of your money? I really need it. Thanks.
Dear Blogger,
Soon I will be leaving you. And you will miss me, like they all do. While we're together they think "God, she's such a fucking bitch. If she talks smack to me one more time I will knock her upside her smarmy little head." And then after I'm gone, they realize that sanity often comes for the price of boredom and they miss me. That will be you Blogger. I have been faithful to you for four-and-a-half years, not counting that tiny indiscretion when I flirted for a minute with Livejournal. In return for my love, passion and fidelity, you've rewarded me with increased server outages and an inability to categorize my posts. One day you will look back and think... "She was a bitch, but she was MY bitch and oh how I miss her."
Dear Neighborhood Kids Who Curse Me and Throw Bottles At My Dogs,
If I could get away with it, I would pick you up and punt you into that yard with the two Dobermans.
May 30, 2006
Extra Extra Read All About It
Extra Extra Read All About It
I just received an e-mail from Kwame with four words... "Please make it stop." The it in question is Paris Hilton making a new hip-hop reggae record. Being that I lack 99% of the Hilton family fortune, I am unfortunately, unable to make "it" stop. I can however, re-write the article on here and hope it magically replaces the old one somehow.
Paris Hilton Plans Reggae, Hip Hop Album
HONG KONG (AP) - Paris Hilton says her upcoming album will be a mix of reggae, pop and hip-hop, with the first single being a reggae song called "I'm A Twat."
Hilton will also do a remake of the Beck song "Loser" renamed "I'm A Loser Baby, Why Don't You Hit Me With A Shovel?" she was quoted as saying in the June issue of the Hong Kong magazine Prestige.
"The whole album will have a lot to offer, as long as people don't have ears. I really think the deaf community will be a solid fan base. And even if the album sells poorly, the cost of making it doesn't compare to how much the Warner Group is saving, now that employees can stay at Hilton hotels worldwide for free." said Warner Records CEO Edgar Bronfman Jr.
Hilton said she wrote the lyrics to seven of her songs, and by wrote she means "paid someone an obscene amount of money to take credit for their songs." She also said she had to overcome a penis in her mouth to become a singer. "Would you believe, all I had to do was take it out?" The aspiring singer enthused.
"People have always told me I could sing, but I always had to pay them to say it. Now, people will be paying to hear me sing. I think that is the hardest thing you can do, to sing in front of people. Having men jizz on your face, asking my parents for a billion-dollar advance on my allowance, paying people to put me on TV, getting fingerbanged by a Miami nightclub... those are all easy to do." Hilton said.
Prestige reported the single, "I'm A Twat" will be released this month by Warner Records and her own label Heiress Records, followed by a full album later this year, which is actually expected to be purchased by the same idiots who bought her book.
I just received an e-mail from Kwame with four words... "Please make it stop." The it in question is Paris Hilton making a new hip-hop reggae record. Being that I lack 99% of the Hilton family fortune, I am unfortunately, unable to make "it" stop. I can however, re-write the article on here and hope it magically replaces the old one somehow.
Paris Hilton Plans Reggae, Hip Hop Album
HONG KONG (AP) - Paris Hilton says her upcoming album will be a mix of reggae, pop and hip-hop, with the first single being a reggae song called "I'm A Twat."
Hilton will also do a remake of the Beck song "Loser" renamed "I'm A Loser Baby, Why Don't You Hit Me With A Shovel?" she was quoted as saying in the June issue of the Hong Kong magazine Prestige.
"The whole album will have a lot to offer, as long as people don't have ears. I really think the deaf community will be a solid fan base. And even if the album sells poorly, the cost of making it doesn't compare to how much the Warner Group is saving, now that employees can stay at Hilton hotels worldwide for free." said Warner Records CEO Edgar Bronfman Jr.
Hilton said she wrote the lyrics to seven of her songs, and by wrote she means "paid someone an obscene amount of money to take credit for their songs." She also said she had to overcome a penis in her mouth to become a singer. "Would you believe, all I had to do was take it out?" The aspiring singer enthused.
"People have always told me I could sing, but I always had to pay them to say it. Now, people will be paying to hear me sing. I think that is the hardest thing you can do, to sing in front of people. Having men jizz on your face, asking my parents for a billion-dollar advance on my allowance, paying people to put me on TV, getting fingerbanged by a Miami nightclub... those are all easy to do." Hilton said.
Prestige reported the single, "I'm A Twat" will be released this month by Warner Records and her own label Heiress Records, followed by a full album later this year, which is actually expected to be purchased by the same idiots who bought her book.
May 15, 2006
14 Things I've Learned From Movies
Note: There's NO SHOW TUESDAY NIGHT, but to make up for it I will pirate the webwaves on Wednesday night, May 17th 10:00 pm ET only on Mango Fucken Radio! Yeap, right after LOST.
14 Things I've Learned From Movies
1. When you're chasing someone, if they leave the house or apartment you can't go past the doorway. It's like a reverse version of the whole vampires-can't-enter-your-house-without-an-invitation thing.
2. If the movie was made before the mid 90's, the black guy dies first. If the movie was made after the mid-90's then the black guy survives. Even if only he and the main character couple are the only people to survive a nuclear blast that wipes out the other 149,000 people in the city.
3. Nothing will prompt the countries of the world to ever work together for a common cause, except alien invasions and large meteors.
4. All aliens are evil. Also, Russians. That includes the 950 or so satellite nations of the former Soviet Republic.
5. Hacking into NASA, the FBI, the CIA, Interpol, the NSA or any corporation only takes about 12 keystrokes.
6. Non-white people only date other non-white people. Unless they're "Hispanic" women. It's okay for white men to date "Hispanic" women.
7. While holding a gun and charged with stopping a fleeing vehicle, never shoot the tires out. That may actually stop the car.
8. Love at first sight is possible, especially when the person looks like Angelina Jolie or Johnny Depp.
9. There are no people of Asian descent in America. Except when you need Chinese food delivered, are holding up a liquor store or are breaking up a sex slavery ring.
10. When someone wants to make a phone call and you want to stop them, you can't physically reach over and take the phone. Instead you have to stand around wringing your hands and wailing.
11. If you somehow cheat death, rather than sagging in relief, remain vigilant for another 20 seconds or so.
12. When diffusing a bomb, cut the blue wire. Unless you're trying to save America as a whole from some Terror, then you should cut whatever wire isn't red, white or blue. Time is unimportant. Whether the countdown is 20 minutes or 2 minutes, the bomb will be defused at 2 seconds.
13. If you cheat on your spouse or sleep with someone on the first date, that person will stalk, then try to kill you. So keep the mouse in the house and those legs shut people.
14. Airports are filled with kissing couples and terrorists. It's like the seventh layer of hell but without the tofu and non-stop golf television programming.
14 Things I've Learned From Movies
1. When you're chasing someone, if they leave the house or apartment you can't go past the doorway. It's like a reverse version of the whole vampires-can't-enter-your-house-without-an-invitation thing.
2. If the movie was made before the mid 90's, the black guy dies first. If the movie was made after the mid-90's then the black guy survives. Even if only he and the main character couple are the only people to survive a nuclear blast that wipes out the other 149,000 people in the city.
3. Nothing will prompt the countries of the world to ever work together for a common cause, except alien invasions and large meteors.
4. All aliens are evil. Also, Russians. That includes the 950 or so satellite nations of the former Soviet Republic.
5. Hacking into NASA, the FBI, the CIA, Interpol, the NSA or any corporation only takes about 12 keystrokes.
6. Non-white people only date other non-white people. Unless they're "Hispanic" women. It's okay for white men to date "Hispanic" women.
7. While holding a gun and charged with stopping a fleeing vehicle, never shoot the tires out. That may actually stop the car.
8. Love at first sight is possible, especially when the person looks like Angelina Jolie or Johnny Depp.
9. There are no people of Asian descent in America. Except when you need Chinese food delivered, are holding up a liquor store or are breaking up a sex slavery ring.
10. When someone wants to make a phone call and you want to stop them, you can't physically reach over and take the phone. Instead you have to stand around wringing your hands and wailing.
11. If you somehow cheat death, rather than sagging in relief, remain vigilant for another 20 seconds or so.
12. When diffusing a bomb, cut the blue wire. Unless you're trying to save America as a whole from some Terror, then you should cut whatever wire isn't red, white or blue. Time is unimportant. Whether the countdown is 20 minutes or 2 minutes, the bomb will be defused at 2 seconds.
13. If you cheat on your spouse or sleep with someone on the first date, that person will stalk, then try to kill you. So keep the mouse in the house and those legs shut people.
14. Airports are filled with kissing couples and terrorists. It's like the seventh layer of hell but without the tofu and non-stop golf television programming.
May 4, 2006
Flipping the Bird and Cubicle Pet Peeves
Flipping the Bird and Cubicle Pet Peeves
But first... If I were a movie character, I'd never listen to opera. People in movies always die while they're listening to opera. Apparently it attracts people with guns. I love opera so I'd totally be that person offed during the eighth line of "O Mio Babbino Caro."
My friend Deb's friend Chris and his sponsors are donating 50 cents to a couple cancer research charities every time someone sends in a picture of themselves giving the finger, as part of their "Flip Cancer The Bird" campaign. I'm on board!
Anyway, Nicole asked people what their cubicle pet peeves were and my response in her comments was so long I decided to repost it here:
1. When someone comes up behind you and stays quiet because they're watching you do something unimportant. Okay what, you need fricken proof that I do nothing all day, for self-validation?
2. There was this chick who used to sit across from me and blab on the phone all the live long day (and believe me, once she moved to that cube the days became longer indeed) about Survivor of all things. Jesus. At least pick a show the people around you like. Sometimes I'd stare at my pencil and wonder if killing her with it was worth the time in prison. What if the chick in the cell next to me watches Survivor. That'd be some fucked up shit right there.
3. People who walk by and set things on your cubicle. What is this, a rest stop? Get your coffee off my cubicle before it spills onto all this work I haven't done because I've been e-mailing friends porn all day.
4. Friends who come by and talk about personal things REALLY LOUD. I mean hello, at least keep up the appearance that we're chatting about work and not how this guy you went out with last night makes Tommy Lee look like he went for a swim in December.
5. People who make cracks about the stuff decorating your cubicle. What, do I come over to yours and say shit like "Wow... there's nothing here. You must have no life, no friends and no personality."
6. People who stand in your cubicle's um, driveway and have personal conversations that don't include you. Yes it's technically a public place but would you have a picnic on your neighbor's sidewalk?
7. Those almost-friends who come by yet have nothing to say are a tad annoying. It's like they either want you to entertain them like a unicycle-riding monkey OR they have some sort of ulterior motive. Like scoping out someone a few cubicles away. Hey I'll help you do ass recon (quietly), but let me know what the gameplan is okay?
8. When your boss decides to stand at your cube and ream you for something. At least have the decency to do it in your office. But no, that would defeat the purpose, which is to remind everyone in hearing distance that you are THE BOSS and I am THE PEON. Really though all it does is remind people that you are THE TOOL and I am THE ONE WHO WILL BE QUITTING SOON.
9. People who talk on speaker phone all the damn time. Unless you are actively defusing a bomb (in which case let me know so I can get the fuck out of the building), there should be no cause for this. Not even if you are on a conference call. That's what the conference rooms are for. Conferences.
10. Guys who walk by your cubicle eight times a day while checking you out, and maintain eye contact the entire time. What do they think, that we're in some seventies pron flick. That maybe after the third or fourth time I'll get up, start taking my clothes off and say "Why don't I help you with those copies." Two seconds tops is all we should be look sharing, as you stroll by my territory.
I have to add more based on the comments:
11. When you're sitting in your cubicle eating lunch, and someone comes up to talk to you about work. It's bad enough they're interrupting your meal but to interrupt it to talk about work compounds the grievance. It already sucks that I wasn't able to take an actual lunch break, now this person has to make me talk about the quarterly budget meeting while my burger and fries sit there getting cold? Plus there are few things grosser than cold fast food. It's like the heat is the only thing keeping the taste and texture in.
12. People who make a production out of work discussions. Non-coincidentally, these are also the same people who use crappy office terminology.
But first... If I were a movie character, I'd never listen to opera. People in movies always die while they're listening to opera. Apparently it attracts people with guns. I love opera so I'd totally be that person offed during the eighth line of "O Mio Babbino Caro."
My friend Deb's friend Chris and his sponsors are donating 50 cents to a couple cancer research charities every time someone sends in a picture of themselves giving the finger, as part of their "Flip Cancer The Bird" campaign. I'm on board!
Please forgive the just-woke-upingness.
And obviously, that is the much vaunted Orange Bang shirt.
Anyway, Nicole asked people what their cubicle pet peeves were and my response in her comments was so long I decided to repost it here:
1. When someone comes up behind you and stays quiet because they're watching you do something unimportant. Okay what, you need fricken proof that I do nothing all day, for self-validation?
2. There was this chick who used to sit across from me and blab on the phone all the live long day (and believe me, once she moved to that cube the days became longer indeed) about Survivor of all things. Jesus. At least pick a show the people around you like. Sometimes I'd stare at my pencil and wonder if killing her with it was worth the time in prison. What if the chick in the cell next to me watches Survivor. That'd be some fucked up shit right there.
3. People who walk by and set things on your cubicle. What is this, a rest stop? Get your coffee off my cubicle before it spills onto all this work I haven't done because I've been e-mailing friends porn all day.
4. Friends who come by and talk about personal things REALLY LOUD. I mean hello, at least keep up the appearance that we're chatting about work and not how this guy you went out with last night makes Tommy Lee look like he went for a swim in December.
5. People who make cracks about the stuff decorating your cubicle. What, do I come over to yours and say shit like "Wow... there's nothing here. You must have no life, no friends and no personality."
6. People who stand in your cubicle's um, driveway and have personal conversations that don't include you. Yes it's technically a public place but would you have a picnic on your neighbor's sidewalk?
7. Those almost-friends who come by yet have nothing to say are a tad annoying. It's like they either want you to entertain them like a unicycle-riding monkey OR they have some sort of ulterior motive. Like scoping out someone a few cubicles away. Hey I'll help you do ass recon (quietly), but let me know what the gameplan is okay?
8. When your boss decides to stand at your cube and ream you for something. At least have the decency to do it in your office. But no, that would defeat the purpose, which is to remind everyone in hearing distance that you are THE BOSS and I am THE PEON. Really though all it does is remind people that you are THE TOOL and I am THE ONE WHO WILL BE QUITTING SOON.
9. People who talk on speaker phone all the damn time. Unless you are actively defusing a bomb (in which case let me know so I can get the fuck out of the building), there should be no cause for this. Not even if you are on a conference call. That's what the conference rooms are for. Conferences.
10. Guys who walk by your cubicle eight times a day while checking you out, and maintain eye contact the entire time. What do they think, that we're in some seventies pron flick. That maybe after the third or fourth time I'll get up, start taking my clothes off and say "Why don't I help you with those copies." Two seconds tops is all we should be look sharing, as you stroll by my territory.
I have to add more based on the comments:
11. When you're sitting in your cubicle eating lunch, and someone comes up to talk to you about work. It's bad enough they're interrupting your meal but to interrupt it to talk about work compounds the grievance. It already sucks that I wasn't able to take an actual lunch break, now this person has to make me talk about the quarterly budget meeting while my burger and fries sit there getting cold? Plus there are few things grosser than cold fast food. It's like the heat is the only thing keeping the taste and texture in.
12. People who make a production out of work discussions. Non-coincidentally, these are also the same people who use crappy office terminology.
February 26, 2006
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