Top 9 Things I've Learned or Re-learned Going Back to Work
1. Every office still has that one printer that doesn't work. The one that causes you to see red and contemplate an Office Space moment, when it says "Load Letter Tray 2" and you open the drawer and the damn thing is full. As always, that one printer is the one nearest to me.
2. The obligatory sexual harassment training is still hilarious. "Janet is sitting at her desk when her boss Albert unzips his fly and licks her neck. Is Albert sexually harassing Janet or is he just being friendly?"
3. The cost of breakfast AND lunch for one day in Manhattan would feed a small indigenous tribe in Bhutan for three weeks. Oh and the bottom of the bags you get Chipotle take-out in, has a recommendation that you recycle the bag by using it as a cat carrier.
4. Some women in the city need to re-evaluate their definition of the phrase "business casual." Here are some tips. Unless you work at Scores, clothing is NOT appropriate for the office if...
-It's transparent.
-It's solid, but has strategically placed holes.
-It glitters.
-The item of clothing in question is not big enough to cover a newborn baby.
-Two words: camel toe
-You wouldn't wear it to church, a decent restaurant or to meet your boyfriend's parents.
-It has the word "fuck" on it. No seriously, I've seen this.
5. In the age of broadband, scanners, PDFs and e-mail... "White Out" still exists.
6. Co-workers still try to make you laugh when you're recording your outgoing voicemail message. "Hi, you've reached Riss. I am away from my desk right now but please lea--- (co-worker walks by and makes an amusing gesture)... CRAP." Yes, please leave crap. Beeeeeep! To save this message, press 1. To re-record, press your mom.
7. Pens are a valuable commodity in offices. Pens are the equivalent of cigarettes in prison. With the right pen, I could get myself lavender post-it notes, access to the good printer and a corner office. And by "corner office" I mean desk in the corner of the office.
8. Happy Hour in Manhattan rocks. During Happy Hour, instead of drinks costing EIGHT times the national average cost of drinks at a bar, drinks only cost FIVE times the national average cost of drinks at a bar.
9. When you've been working for 7 1/2 hours straight, eating lunch at your desk and barely taking the time to use the restroom, your boss will walk by at the exact moment you decide to take a break and poke some of your friends on Facebook.
Showing posts with label humor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label humor. Show all posts
September 23, 2007
Top 9 Reasons I Am Glad To Be Gainfully Employed
Top 9 Reasons I Am Glad To Be Gainfully Employed
1. I may no longer feel compelled to write letters of complaint such as:
Dear PSE&G,
I hate you. I hate you and I hope you die.
Love,
Riss
2. Apparently, PSE&G doesn't consider expired Old Navy coupons an acceptable form of bill payment.
3. Tired of paying for the #1 Value Meal at McDonald's in coins. The people behind you in the drive-through get kinda mad. And then I have to throw ketchup packets at them.
4. Felt a bit guilty about the fact that I owe my friends a cumulative total of 482,938,697 drinks.
5. Felt a bit guilty about the fact that I owe my friends a cumulative total of about 50,239 meals.
6. It's nice to have a bank balance larger than my shoe size. Incidentally, it's amusing that the bank charges you $35 when your account becomes overdrawn. I didn't have $2 to cover my last transaction. What makes you think I have $35.
7. The Prada store has been sending me handwritten "We miss you, come back" cards for the last five years. Not that I will be having tea with them any time soon but it's pleasant to have the option.
8. Apparently, eviction is not a very uplifting experience. I've heard it ranks somewhere above "24-hour infomercials" yet below "Having your toenails ripped off then fed to you."
Of course, there is one Top Reason It Sucks To Have a Job:
My daughter Angelina walked up to me today and said "Mommy, tomorrow Daddy can go to work and you stay at home with Angelina okay?"
Great, kid. Why don't you just take a knife and stab me in the heart.
1. I may no longer feel compelled to write letters of complaint such as:
Dear PSE&G,
I hate you. I hate you and I hope you die.
Love,
Riss
2. Apparently, PSE&G doesn't consider expired Old Navy coupons an acceptable form of bill payment.
3. Tired of paying for the #1 Value Meal at McDonald's in coins. The people behind you in the drive-through get kinda mad. And then I have to throw ketchup packets at them.
4. Felt a bit guilty about the fact that I owe my friends a cumulative total of 482,938,697 drinks.
5. Felt a bit guilty about the fact that I owe my friends a cumulative total of about 50,239 meals.
6. It's nice to have a bank balance larger than my shoe size. Incidentally, it's amusing that the bank charges you $35 when your account becomes overdrawn. I didn't have $2 to cover my last transaction. What makes you think I have $35.
7. The Prada store has been sending me handwritten "We miss you, come back" cards for the last five years. Not that I will be having tea with them any time soon but it's pleasant to have the option.
8. Apparently, eviction is not a very uplifting experience. I've heard it ranks somewhere above "24-hour infomercials" yet below "Having your toenails ripped off then fed to you."
Of course, there is one Top Reason It Sucks To Have a Job:
My daughter Angelina walked up to me today and said "Mommy, tomorrow Daddy can go to work and you stay at home with Angelina okay?"
Great, kid. Why don't you just take a knife and stab me in the heart.
June 25, 2007
My 7 Commandments of Sleeping
My 7 Commandments of Sleeping
(As jacked from Elaine)
Thou Shalt Have The Closet Door Closed
I don't exactly buy into the Boogeyman hype, but there's something freaky about waking up in the middle of the night and seeing an open closet door. With a scaly, decayed gray hand creeping around it. And evil, evil red eyes only partially masked by a black hood. I'm just saying.
Thou Shalt Have The Bedroom Door Locked
I'm a pretty light sleeper. If a serial killer has to jimmy the door lock, it would wake me up with enough time to dial 911. I'm just saying.
Thou Shalt Have Fabric Protecting Thine Nether Regions
It's not ass demons that worry me, it's the insects. Our house has these brown ones that look like smaller versions of the shit they pulled out of Neo's stomach in The Matrix. I assume the chances of them crawling into the hoohoo and laying eggs are slim to none, but even the thought of them hanging out there for a bit has me vetoing the whole sleeping naked thing.
Thou Shalt Have Thy Feet Covered With Socks or A Blanket
I absolutely cannot sleep if my feet are bare. Sometimes the blanket is wrapped around my feet just to right above the ankles. Over my socks.
Thou Shalt Check To Make Sure Thine Kids Are Breathing.
Yeah, I know this one is morbid. It's a remnant from when the kiddos were born and had sleep apnea (pauses in breathing while they slept). They were connected to monitors for 6 months, which would beep every time there was a pause in breathing. The monitors were very sensitive and easily dislodged, so they went off about once an hour, which would send me flying to check on them from my pad on the floor two feet away. Once they no longer officially needed the monitors, I would obsessively check to make sure they were breathing 7 or 8 times each night. Now I limit myself to one or two times, right before I go to sleep.
Thou Shalt Have The Windows Closed
Even if I lived on the 16th floor, thus effectively removing all chances of serial killers climbing through the windows, I'd still need to have them closed. Regardless of the temperature outside, whether it's 30 degrees or 90, I get sick when I sleep with the windows open.
Thou Shalt Say Thine Prayers
Do I know for a fact that God exists? No. But it sure as hell doesn't hurt to cover your bases. Just kidding. Doot.
(As jacked from Elaine)
Thou Shalt Have The Closet Door Closed
I don't exactly buy into the Boogeyman hype, but there's something freaky about waking up in the middle of the night and seeing an open closet door. With a scaly, decayed gray hand creeping around it. And evil, evil red eyes only partially masked by a black hood. I'm just saying.
Thou Shalt Have The Bedroom Door Locked
I'm a pretty light sleeper. If a serial killer has to jimmy the door lock, it would wake me up with enough time to dial 911. I'm just saying.
Thou Shalt Have Fabric Protecting Thine Nether Regions
It's not ass demons that worry me, it's the insects. Our house has these brown ones that look like smaller versions of the shit they pulled out of Neo's stomach in The Matrix. I assume the chances of them crawling into the hoohoo and laying eggs are slim to none, but even the thought of them hanging out there for a bit has me vetoing the whole sleeping naked thing.
Thou Shalt Have Thy Feet Covered With Socks or A Blanket
I absolutely cannot sleep if my feet are bare. Sometimes the blanket is wrapped around my feet just to right above the ankles. Over my socks.
Thou Shalt Check To Make Sure Thine Kids Are Breathing.
Yeah, I know this one is morbid. It's a remnant from when the kiddos were born and had sleep apnea (pauses in breathing while they slept). They were connected to monitors for 6 months, which would beep every time there was a pause in breathing. The monitors were very sensitive and easily dislodged, so they went off about once an hour, which would send me flying to check on them from my pad on the floor two feet away. Once they no longer officially needed the monitors, I would obsessively check to make sure they were breathing 7 or 8 times each night. Now I limit myself to one or two times, right before I go to sleep.
Thou Shalt Have The Windows Closed
Even if I lived on the 16th floor, thus effectively removing all chances of serial killers climbing through the windows, I'd still need to have them closed. Regardless of the temperature outside, whether it's 30 degrees or 90, I get sick when I sleep with the windows open.
Thou Shalt Say Thine Prayers
Do I know for a fact that God exists? No. But it sure as hell doesn't hurt to cover your bases. Just kidding. Doot.
June 22, 2007
Thoughts On A Friday Night
Thoughts On A Friday Night
I assume it's counter-productive to be riding your exercise bike while eating a Rainbow Twizzler.
Rainbow Twizzlers rock your mom, seriously.
I love women with breast implants, they always invite people to feel them. It's like you're a lesbian for 8 seconds.
Chris Rock makes me laugh.
Faithie: I have to call Ninong Abel.
Me: You can't honey, he's on an airplane right now.
Faithie: I want to go on an airplane.
Me: Really, where do you want to go?
Faithie: To Australia.
Me: What are you going to see in Australia?
Faithie: The ocean. And boats. Boats go in the water.
Me: That's true. What about airplanes?
Faithie: They fly in the sky.
Me: What else flies in the sky?
Faithie: Helicopters. And Superman.
Me: Who else flies?
Faithie: Martian Manhunter. And Wonder Woman. But not Batman. Batman has to run.
Incidentally, neither of my children will respond to their real names anymore. I believe they want to legally change their names to "Wonder Woman" and "Martian Manhunter."
It's birthday season. Birthdays often depress people but I don't get this. Birthdays mark another year you didn't get hit by a bus. What's depressing about that?
I expected Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer to be a lot better than it was. If you don't read comics (thus not caring about whether or not the movie stays true to storylines) and liked the first one, the second one is pretty much the same thing with better effects. But it's the Silver Surfer for God's sake, I was expecting the movie to be on par with Spiderman 2 and Batman Begins. And they already miscast Jessica Alba as Sue Storm, despite the fact that Sue Storm is supposed to be the All-American blond, blue-eyed girl next door. The dye job and contacts didn't magically fix things.
The Transformers trailer they showed was hot though, Starscream looked awesome. He'll probably stay awesome until he opens his mouth.
I assume it's counter-productive to be riding your exercise bike while eating a Rainbow Twizzler.
Rainbow Twizzlers rock your mom, seriously.
I love women with breast implants, they always invite people to feel them. It's like you're a lesbian for 8 seconds.
Chris Rock makes me laugh.
"There's a white, one-legged busboy in here that
wouldn't trade places with ME. And I'm RICH."
Faithie: I have to call Ninong Abel.
Me: You can't honey, he's on an airplane right now.
Faithie: I want to go on an airplane.
Me: Really, where do you want to go?
Faithie: To Australia.
Me: What are you going to see in Australia?
Faithie: The ocean. And boats. Boats go in the water.
Me: That's true. What about airplanes?
Faithie: They fly in the sky.
Me: What else flies in the sky?
Faithie: Helicopters. And Superman.
Me: Who else flies?
Faithie: Martian Manhunter. And Wonder Woman. But not Batman. Batman has to run.
Incidentally, neither of my children will respond to their real names anymore. I believe they want to legally change their names to "Wonder Woman" and "Martian Manhunter."
It's birthday season. Birthdays often depress people but I don't get this. Birthdays mark another year you didn't get hit by a bus. What's depressing about that?
I expected Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer to be a lot better than it was. If you don't read comics (thus not caring about whether or not the movie stays true to storylines) and liked the first one, the second one is pretty much the same thing with better effects. But it's the Silver Surfer for God's sake, I was expecting the movie to be on par with Spiderman 2 and Batman Begins. And they already miscast Jessica Alba as Sue Storm, despite the fact that Sue Storm is supposed to be the All-American blond, blue-eyed girl next door. The dye job and contacts didn't magically fix things.
The Transformers trailer they showed was hot though, Starscream looked awesome. He'll probably stay awesome until he opens his mouth.
June 12, 2007
With Friends Like These...
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.
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.
June 8, 2007
Sexbay
Sexbay and Useless Mutant Powers
Wouldn't it be funny if they had a rating website for people and sex? You could rate people and leave comments like:
"Great ride, A++++++ bang. Will hump again!!"
"Neutral rating. Too fast delivery and package was small."
"Neutral rating. Positive transaction but poor communication. Would not return e-mails after."
(Steve's contribution but he really needs his own blog) "Poor rating. Box was all banged up, flaps hanging off the sides. Requires better presentation."
When I went to the passport office to get my emergency passport before Australia, I killed the 8-hour-long wait by walking up to random people and asking where they were going. I figured everyone was going somewhere interesting, no one would be at the passport office if they were headed to Des Moines. A conversation about tying cherry stems into a knot using your tongue led to a discussion of what our useless mutant powers would be, and I said one of mine would be "alphabetizing DVDs rapidly." Which two weeks later, led to a discussion during a layover at LAX about in what scenarios these useless mutant powers would actually save the world.
Like...
Mutant Power: Alphabetizing DVDs rapidly.
Scenario: The Arch Villain is destroying the city of Metropolis. He has free reign to carry out his Evil Plot because he has barricaded the world's superheroes behind a wall of unorganized DVDs. To open the wall one must alphabetize the DVDs perfectly in under a minute. *Ominous music* and then... "Look, up in the sky... it's a bird, it's a plane... no it's SUPER RISS!!!!!"
Mutant Power: Swallowing semen and figuring out what the guy ate that day.
Scenario: The Arch Villain has powers that allow him to transform into Superheroes. He becomes another Superguy and now the world can't tell which Superguy is the real one. But wait, the real Superguy has a fondness for spinach and artichoke dip, and ate several helpings at lunch. What do we do??? All is not lost, UNNAMED FRIEND is ready to fight for freedom, justice and the American way!
Mutant Power: Eating a ton of marshmallow Peeps.
Scenario: The Arch Villain has tied up Random Superhero and dropped him upside down into a vat filled with Peeps. You get dropped in as well, but your hands are tied behind your back and time's a-wastin'. Any minute now Random Superhero is going to suffocate. Here Jim comes to save the day!!
Mutant Power: Memorizing Pi to the 50th decimal.
Scenario: The Arch Math Villain has rigged a nuclear bomb set to explode and wipe out most of Central City. The timer is counting down from two minutes and precious seconds are ticking away. The only way to disarm the mechanism is by entering Pi to the 50th decimal, in one try. What ever shall we do??? Never fear, it's Stevie D and his Pi Power to the rescue!!
Wouldn't it be funny if they had a rating website for people and sex? You could rate people and leave comments like:
"Great ride, A++++++ bang. Will hump again!!"
"Neutral rating. Too fast delivery and package was small."
"Neutral rating. Positive transaction but poor communication. Would not return e-mails after."
(Steve's contribution but he really needs his own blog) "Poor rating. Box was all banged up, flaps hanging off the sides. Requires better presentation."
When I went to the passport office to get my emergency passport before Australia, I killed the 8-hour-long wait by walking up to random people and asking where they were going. I figured everyone was going somewhere interesting, no one would be at the passport office if they were headed to Des Moines. A conversation about tying cherry stems into a knot using your tongue led to a discussion of what our useless mutant powers would be, and I said one of mine would be "alphabetizing DVDs rapidly." Which two weeks later, led to a discussion during a layover at LAX about in what scenarios these useless mutant powers would actually save the world.
Like...
Mutant Power: Alphabetizing DVDs rapidly.
Scenario: The Arch Villain is destroying the city of Metropolis. He has free reign to carry out his Evil Plot because he has barricaded the world's superheroes behind a wall of unorganized DVDs. To open the wall one must alphabetize the DVDs perfectly in under a minute. *Ominous music* and then... "Look, up in the sky... it's a bird, it's a plane... no it's SUPER RISS!!!!!"
Mutant Power: Swallowing semen and figuring out what the guy ate that day.
Scenario: The Arch Villain has powers that allow him to transform into Superheroes. He becomes another Superguy and now the world can't tell which Superguy is the real one. But wait, the real Superguy has a fondness for spinach and artichoke dip, and ate several helpings at lunch. What do we do??? All is not lost, UNNAMED FRIEND is ready to fight for freedom, justice and the American way!
Mutant Power: Eating a ton of marshmallow Peeps.
Scenario: The Arch Villain has tied up Random Superhero and dropped him upside down into a vat filled with Peeps. You get dropped in as well, but your hands are tied behind your back and time's a-wastin'. Any minute now Random Superhero is going to suffocate. Here Jim comes to save the day!!
Mutant Power: Memorizing Pi to the 50th decimal.
Scenario: The Arch Math Villain has rigged a nuclear bomb set to explode and wipe out most of Central City. The timer is counting down from two minutes and precious seconds are ticking away. The only way to disarm the mechanism is by entering Pi to the 50th decimal, in one try. What ever shall we do??? Never fear, it's Stevie D and his Pi Power to the rescue!!
May 29, 2007
Geo's Friday Night "Assfest"
Geo's Friday Night "Assfest"
Boy do I have a treat for you guys. My record is 3 strip joints in one night, but Geo went out last Friday night with his co-worker and blew mine out of the water. The next morning I asked him how it went and here is the answer, paraphrased but pretty much in his own words:
"We went to Whiskey Cafe but since it was 11 when we got there, everyone inside was already trashed. There were people brawling even. So we had a drink and then went to Houlie's. It was kind of boring there so Rob said we should go to AJ's, that strip club in Secaucus because 'the girls there are so beautiful' he said. But when we got there it was *Borat voice* NOT SO MUCH. So we hung out there for a bit and then he said we should go to this place in Newark that all the customer reps rave about. They said it's dollar lap dances so 'you just feed them dollars during the dance so it's a 5-dollar lap dance.'
We went there and they had a 3-dollar door charge. When we got inside, all the strippers were really fat and scary. I went to the bathroom to pee and when I came back, Rob was sitting there with a beer already. I was like 'What the fuck, you got caught?' And then the bartender asked if I wanted a drink and I said 'Oh hell no, I'll be waiting outside.' So Rob came out after he finished his drink, but he got his 3 dollar door charge back first. I didn't even care, I just wanted to get out of there.
So then we decided to go to some other place but we couldn't find it. So we stopped in a parking lot and asked some guys where the nearest strip joint was and they told us where to go. We got into the place and it was 4 dollar Coronas so I we got some beers and then Rob went to the bathroom. He came out and said 'I'm not gay but I met some guy in the bathroom who knows somewhere that is open until 3, because this place is closing.' So we head to some place in Paterson and when we get there, there are a shitload of thugs and bums outside begging for dollars. Some bum walks up to me and says 'Can I get a dollar for a sandwich?' And I said 'Tell me why you REALLY want this dollar." And he said 'To get a beer' so I said okay and gave him the dollar.
We went inside the place and me and the two other guys Rob met had to go to the bathroom. The guys were saying in line that 'the girls will let you do whatever you want until they say no, it's 7 bucks a dance.' When we got to the bathroom it was just a hole and you couldn't even flush. I walked back towards Rob and he has this thing bent over in front of him (I think she was about 40 years old) and he has a beer in his hand again. While I peed he had a beer and a girl already.
Rob said there's another place nearby, in walking distance if we didn't like that one where the strippers were ugly. So we headed to the other one and Rob is still carrying his beer. He says 'It's Paterson, who cares.' When we get to the new place there are about 15 Spanish guys partying outside the strip club, but when we walked inside there were 5 ugly strippers and 2 customers. So we left after saying bye to the 15 guys outside.
We head back to the 'Pee In The Hole Place' and on the way back meet up with the two Spanish guys again. While we're telling them the other place sucked, some huge black guy comes up named Keke and hands us a 'party flier.'
I said that's it, this night is finished. Outside of the one with all the Spanish guys, Rob turned to me and said 'What the fuck are we doing?' But by that point we were just trying to see how much worse the strip joints could get."
To make the story even funnier, Rob and Geo had just come from a wake so they were pretty dressed up for their Friday Night Assfest.
Boy do I have a treat for you guys. My record is 3 strip joints in one night, but Geo went out last Friday night with his co-worker and blew mine out of the water. The next morning I asked him how it went and here is the answer, paraphrased but pretty much in his own words:
"We went to Whiskey Cafe but since it was 11 when we got there, everyone inside was already trashed. There were people brawling even. So we had a drink and then went to Houlie's. It was kind of boring there so Rob said we should go to AJ's, that strip club in Secaucus because 'the girls there are so beautiful' he said. But when we got there it was *Borat voice* NOT SO MUCH. So we hung out there for a bit and then he said we should go to this place in Newark that all the customer reps rave about. They said it's dollar lap dances so 'you just feed them dollars during the dance so it's a 5-dollar lap dance.'
We went there and they had a 3-dollar door charge. When we got inside, all the strippers were really fat and scary. I went to the bathroom to pee and when I came back, Rob was sitting there with a beer already. I was like 'What the fuck, you got caught?' And then the bartender asked if I wanted a drink and I said 'Oh hell no, I'll be waiting outside.' So Rob came out after he finished his drink, but he got his 3 dollar door charge back first. I didn't even care, I just wanted to get out of there.
So then we decided to go to some other place but we couldn't find it. So we stopped in a parking lot and asked some guys where the nearest strip joint was and they told us where to go. We got into the place and it was 4 dollar Coronas so I we got some beers and then Rob went to the bathroom. He came out and said 'I'm not gay but I met some guy in the bathroom who knows somewhere that is open until 3, because this place is closing.' So we head to some place in Paterson and when we get there, there are a shitload of thugs and bums outside begging for dollars. Some bum walks up to me and says 'Can I get a dollar for a sandwich?' And I said 'Tell me why you REALLY want this dollar." And he said 'To get a beer' so I said okay and gave him the dollar.
We went inside the place and me and the two other guys Rob met had to go to the bathroom. The guys were saying in line that 'the girls will let you do whatever you want until they say no, it's 7 bucks a dance.' When we got to the bathroom it was just a hole and you couldn't even flush. I walked back towards Rob and he has this thing bent over in front of him (I think she was about 40 years old) and he has a beer in his hand again. While I peed he had a beer and a girl already.
Rob said there's another place nearby, in walking distance if we didn't like that one where the strippers were ugly. So we headed to the other one and Rob is still carrying his beer. He says 'It's Paterson, who cares.' When we get to the new place there are about 15 Spanish guys partying outside the strip club, but when we walked inside there were 5 ugly strippers and 2 customers. So we left after saying bye to the 15 guys outside.
We head back to the 'Pee In The Hole Place' and on the way back meet up with the two Spanish guys again. While we're telling them the other place sucked, some huge black guy comes up named Keke and hands us a 'party flier.'
Geo actually handed me the "flier" at this point,
which was a scrap of paper about an inch long but I
can't find it. So I re-created it in MS Paint.
I said that's it, this night is finished. Outside of the one with all the Spanish guys, Rob turned to me and said 'What the fuck are we doing?' But by that point we were just trying to see how much worse the strip joints could get."
To make the story even funnier, Rob and Geo had just come from a wake so they were pretty dressed up for their Friday Night Assfest.
May 15, 2007
Auto Necrophilia, Duck Farts and Doodle Pro Face-Off
Auto Necrophilia, Duck Farts and Doodle Pro Face-Off
First and foremost, HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY to Stevie, who turned 31 this past Saturday. Or, "30" according to his parents. This is just a formality though, since we actually spent his birthday doing the Advance Course with Land mark. Steve has said a bunch of things in the past few months that have cracked me up, but a few stick out:
Steve: I have a feeling that my boss is going to discuss our project all the way to Hartford, but I'm really tired. I wonder if I can convince him I have auto necrophilia or something.
Me: Auto necrophilia? HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! Did you mean narcolepsy like you fall asleep all the time, or are you going to try and convince him that you randomly fall into cars and bang dead people?
Steve: Oh yeah, that one.
Abel: Here is one of those coins we were telling you about, the Sacajaweas.
Steve: Did you just say "Sack of Jews?"
Steve: Isn't there some our lady saint about that, assumption or something?
Me: Hahahaha Do you mean "Our Lady of Ascension?" I'm fucking dying.
Steve: Yeah that one!
Me: No no, I like the other one so much better.
Steve: Like, "Ed thought we were going to a club. I think he was praying to "Our Lady of Assumption."
Mike: I don't know if I can go. Who's going to be there?
Me: Remember how I told you that you weren't my only Jewish friend? They're going to be there.
Steve: You should come and then you guys can be all Pro-Jew together.
Me: That makes me think of how high school athletes get named to the "All-America All-Team" thing. "And introducing Mike J, two-guard, All-Jew All Team."
Mike: Did you know there's a Jewish Sports Hall of Fame?
Dude, I would so be fired if I were a radio personality. That shit is OUT OF CONTROL. We're on a slippery slope, firing people for politically incorrect jokes. I personally find the censorship of those people far more offensive than anything they said. Moving on.
To the person who found my blog by typing in "I have a big bug and I cannot lie": HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!! What song are you looking for? You insect brothas can't deny. When a queen walks in with an itty bitty waist and antennae in your face you get STUNG!
The other day, I was standing in front of Abel, who was sitting on the couch, and I farted. Which is fine except that it sounded like a quack. And Abel looked at me and said, "Do you have a duck in your ass?" Yes. I play kinky sex games with poultry. One thing that bothers me is that it was pretty cool to quack out of my ass and I'm not certain I can ever re-create the sound.
Steve and I have a new hobby, which we enrolled Abel into playing. It's called "Doodle Pro Face-Off" and it is intense. We take the two Fisher-Price drawing boards that Kwame gave the girls, and a stack of vocabulary flash cards. At the count of three we turn over one of the cards and try to draw the word. Whoever finishes first wins, but his or her picture has to look more realistic than the other person's. So far my record is like 4-1 versus Abel and 1297-3 versus Steve. I am the undisputed Queen of Doodle Pro Face-off.
First and foremost, HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY to Stevie, who turned 31 this past Saturday. Or, "30" according to his parents. This is just a formality though, since we actually spent his birthday doing the Advance Course with Land mark. Steve has said a bunch of things in the past few months that have cracked me up, but a few stick out:
Steve: I have a feeling that my boss is going to discuss our project all the way to Hartford, but I'm really tired. I wonder if I can convince him I have auto necrophilia or something.
Me: Auto necrophilia? HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! Did you mean narcolepsy like you fall asleep all the time, or are you going to try and convince him that you randomly fall into cars and bang dead people?
Steve: Oh yeah, that one.
Abel: Here is one of those coins we were telling you about, the Sacajaweas.
Steve: Did you just say "Sack of Jews?"
Steve: Isn't there some our lady saint about that, assumption or something?
Me: Hahahaha Do you mean "Our Lady of Ascension?" I'm fucking dying.
Steve: Yeah that one!
Me: No no, I like the other one so much better.
Steve: Like, "Ed thought we were going to a club. I think he was praying to "Our Lady of Assumption."
Mike: I don't know if I can go. Who's going to be there?
Me: Remember how I told you that you weren't my only Jewish friend? They're going to be there.
Steve: You should come and then you guys can be all Pro-Jew together.
Me: That makes me think of how high school athletes get named to the "All-America All-Team" thing. "And introducing Mike J, two-guard, All-Jew All Team."
Mike: Did you know there's a Jewish Sports Hall of Fame?
Dude, I would so be fired if I were a radio personality. That shit is OUT OF CONTROL. We're on a slippery slope, firing people for politically incorrect jokes. I personally find the censorship of those people far more offensive than anything they said. Moving on.
To the person who found my blog by typing in "I have a big bug and I cannot lie": HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!! What song are you looking for? You insect brothas can't deny. When a queen walks in with an itty bitty waist and antennae in your face you get STUNG!
The other day, I was standing in front of Abel, who was sitting on the couch, and I farted. Which is fine except that it sounded like a quack. And Abel looked at me and said, "Do you have a duck in your ass?" Yes. I play kinky sex games with poultry. One thing that bothers me is that it was pretty cool to quack out of my ass and I'm not certain I can ever re-create the sound.
Steve and I have a new hobby, which we enrolled Abel into playing. It's called "Doodle Pro Face-Off" and it is intense. We take the two Fisher-Price drawing boards that Kwame gave the girls, and a stack of vocabulary flash cards. At the count of three we turn over one of the cards and try to draw the word. Whoever finishes first wins, but his or her picture has to look more realistic than the other person's. So far my record is like 4-1 versus Abel and 1297-3 versus Steve. I am the undisputed Queen of Doodle Pro Face-off.
(L-R) Mine are the top 3 on the left (tiger, cat, pig) versus Steve and
the bottom one on the right (cow) versus Abe.
April 12, 2007
Conversations With My Three-Year-Old Twins
Conversations With My Three-Year-Old Twins
So we've had:
"Conversations With My Friends" and
"Conversations About Um, Literature" and
"Intellectual Conversations About Movies."
So I bring you...
A: Mommy, I want some cookies.
Me: You have to eat lunch first.
A: I don't want to.
Me: One of the fringe benefits to being a parent is the discretion to decide when to completely disregard your wants.
F: How about lollipops for lunch?
Me: You've never even eaten a lollipop, how do you know you'll like it?
F: How about a pizza lollipop?
Me: Okay, that works. Pizza on a fork it is.
Me: It's time for your bath.
F: I don't want a bath. NO!!!!!
Me: I'm not saying that you should focus on what other people think of you, but the case of hygiene is an exception. People don't like to be around people who don't bathe.
F (grinning widely): How about the phone take a bath.
Me: It's really too soon to joke about that sweetie. The trauma is still fresh.
A (putting her little hand up fiercely): Swiper, no swiping!!!
Me: Honey, she's not doing anything.
A: She wants to take it.
Me: Maybe, but you can't preemptive swiper-no-swiping. It's considered rude.
F: More goldfish crackers please.
Me: You still have an entire handful. Finish those first.
F (cramming the entire fistful into her mouth then speaking): Okay, more?
Me: The banana is not a toy, you're supposed to eat it.
A: It's not a banana, it's a puzzle.
Me: So I see. And you've even put it back together again. After you finish with it then, can you eat it? Otherwise it's a waste.
A: Can't eat it, it's a toy not a banana.
Me: Angelina stop kicking your sister.
F: I didn't do anything!!
Me: I said Angelina. Is your name Angelina?
F: Yes.
Me: No, you're Faith.
F: No, I'm Angelina.
Me: No, she's Angelina.
F: No, she's Faith.
Me: No, you're Faith, she's Angelina.
F (yelling but laughing at me): No, YOU'RE Angelina!!!!
A: She pushed me!!
Me: No she didn't.
A: She did!!!
Me: Well technically, the definition of pushing is to exert enough force to potentially send someone or something into motion. So touching you doesn't qualify as pushing.
A: See, Mommy said don't push me.
So we've had:
"Conversations With My Friends" and
"Conversations About Um, Literature" and
"Intellectual Conversations About Movies."
So I bring you...
A: Mommy, I want some cookies.
Me: You have to eat lunch first.
A: I don't want to.
Me: One of the fringe benefits to being a parent is the discretion to decide when to completely disregard your wants.
F: How about lollipops for lunch?
Me: You've never even eaten a lollipop, how do you know you'll like it?
F: How about a pizza lollipop?
Me: Okay, that works. Pizza on a fork it is.
Me: It's time for your bath.
F: I don't want a bath. NO!!!!!
Me: I'm not saying that you should focus on what other people think of you, but the case of hygiene is an exception. People don't like to be around people who don't bathe.
F (grinning widely): How about the phone take a bath.
Me: It's really too soon to joke about that sweetie. The trauma is still fresh.
A (putting her little hand up fiercely): Swiper, no swiping!!!
Me: Honey, she's not doing anything.
A: She wants to take it.
Me: Maybe, but you can't preemptive swiper-no-swiping. It's considered rude.
F: More goldfish crackers please.
Me: You still have an entire handful. Finish those first.
F (cramming the entire fistful into her mouth then speaking): Okay, more?
Me: The banana is not a toy, you're supposed to eat it.
A: It's not a banana, it's a puzzle.
Me: So I see. And you've even put it back together again. After you finish with it then, can you eat it? Otherwise it's a waste.
A: Can't eat it, it's a toy not a banana.
Me: Angelina stop kicking your sister.
F: I didn't do anything!!
Me: I said Angelina. Is your name Angelina?
F: Yes.
Me: No, you're Faith.
F: No, I'm Angelina.
Me: No, she's Angelina.
F: No, she's Faith.
Me: No, you're Faith, she's Angelina.
F (yelling but laughing at me): No, YOU'RE Angelina!!!!
A: She pushed me!!
Me: No she didn't.
A: She did!!!
Me: Well technically, the definition of pushing is to exert enough force to potentially send someone or something into motion. So touching you doesn't qualify as pushing.
A: See, Mommy said don't push me.
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.
Random Stuff Take 456
Random Stuff Take 456
1. First and foremost, Happy Belated 31st Birthday to Stevie! This is just a formality though since we spent his birthday doing the Advance Course with Landmark. Steve has said a bunch of things that have killed me in the past few months, but my favorites are:
Steve: I really want to sleep in the car on the way to Hartford but I know my boss will want to talk. Maybe I could somehow convince him I have auto necrophilia.
Me: Auto NECROPHILIA? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! Like, that you randomly get into cars and have sex with dead people or were you thinking narcolepsy?
Abel: Here's one of those coins we were telling you about, the Sacajaweas.
Steve: Did you just say "sack of Jews?"
Steve:
Search - "I have a big bug and I cannot lie"
duck fart abel
doodle pro face off
wine pong
1. First and foremost, Happy Belated 31st Birthday to Stevie! This is just a formality though since we spent his birthday doing the Advance Course with Landmark. Steve has said a bunch of things that have killed me in the past few months, but my favorites are:
Steve: I really want to sleep in the car on the way to Hartford but I know my boss will want to talk. Maybe I could somehow convince him I have auto necrophilia.
Me: Auto NECROPHILIA? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! Like, that you randomly get into cars and have sex with dead people or were you thinking narcolepsy?
Abel: Here's one of those coins we were telling you about, the Sacajaweas.
Steve: Did you just say "sack of Jews?"
Steve:
Search - "I have a big bug and I cannot lie"
duck fart abel
doodle pro face off
wine pong
February 9, 2007
I'm An Idiot, Verified
I'm An Idiot, Verified
(With a Monday edit at the bottom of the post)
See these fools jumping into the freezing ocean in the middle of February?
There will be pictures involved, and apparently we are not allowed to dive in fully clothed, because I was tempted to do it in a puffy white faux fur jacket, for shits and giggles. With a fish in my mouth. You know, like an actual polar bear.
So to further complicate matters (as in the matter of "I can't fucking believe I agreed to do this, why does my common sense go on hiatus so often) Paul and I have a bet going on who can raise the most money. For the sake of argument, our own starting donations don't count towards the final tally. The challenge loss has yet to be determined, but I refuse to contemplate the idea of losing. I did in fact choose to play the Husband Card, by informing Geo that if I am behind in the tally, I will be in the beach parking lot giving out handjobs, and naturally as my husband he would be expected to join me. Being that he has hands. An unnamed friend has pledged a certain amount of money, if I can jump into the water without cursing, which he doesn't think I have a chance of doing. Oh ye of little faith. I will go into the water without cursing, even if I have to duct tape my mouth shut to do it.
Anyway, if you love me at all...
Donate here.
Yes, I played the If You Love Me Card. And it has been awhile since I hit my friends up for donations. Even 5 bucks goes a long way and it's for a good cause, namely the Special Olympics of New Jersey AND the "We Don't Want Riss To Be Subjected To Paul Rubbing It In For The Rest Of Ever That He Raised More Money Than Her Fund."
"Always do sober, what you said you'd do drunk. That will teach you to keep your mouth shut." -- Ernest Hemingway
Monday edit: - SPECIAL THANKS TO:
ANT (I miss you dude)
COLEEN (Hey I still have your card, I'll mail it again in its original envelope as proof it got sent back to me)
LANI (congrats on winning the contest mama)
MAZ (Thanks for donating despite the fact that 5 dollars is like 6,747,387 ozdollars)
TONY (Are you sure you don't want to come in, the water is lovely)
KWAME (holy crap holy crap holy crap your big day is right around the corner)
RAY and MATT (Hope those livers are training for life in New York, like Rocky before he went up against Ivan Drago).
YOU GUYS ROCK!! (And for the Aussies, ONYA!!!!)
(With a Monday edit at the bottom of the post)
See these fools jumping into the freezing ocean in the middle of February?
"What the hell was I thinking???"
There will be pictures involved, and apparently we are not allowed to dive in fully clothed, because I was tempted to do it in a puffy white faux fur jacket, for shits and giggles. With a fish in my mouth. You know, like an actual polar bear.
So to further complicate matters (as in the matter of "I can't fucking believe I agreed to do this, why does my common sense go on hiatus so often) Paul and I have a bet going on who can raise the most money. For the sake of argument, our own starting donations don't count towards the final tally. The challenge loss has yet to be determined, but I refuse to contemplate the idea of losing. I did in fact choose to play the Husband Card, by informing Geo that if I am behind in the tally, I will be in the beach parking lot giving out handjobs, and naturally as my husband he would be expected to join me. Being that he has hands. An unnamed friend has pledged a certain amount of money, if I can jump into the water without cursing, which he doesn't think I have a chance of doing. Oh ye of little faith. I will go into the water without cursing, even if I have to duct tape my mouth shut to do it.
Anyway, if you love me at all...
Donate here.
Yes, I played the If You Love Me Card. And it has been awhile since I hit my friends up for donations. Even 5 bucks goes a long way and it's for a good cause, namely the Special Olympics of New Jersey AND the "We Don't Want Riss To Be Subjected To Paul Rubbing It In For The Rest Of Ever That He Raised More Money Than Her Fund."
"Always do sober, what you said you'd do drunk. That will teach you to keep your mouth shut." -- Ernest Hemingway
Monday edit: - SPECIAL THANKS TO:
ANT (I miss you dude)
COLEEN (Hey I still have your card, I'll mail it again in its original envelope as proof it got sent back to me)
LANI (congrats on winning the contest mama)
MAZ (Thanks for donating despite the fact that 5 dollars is like 6,747,387 ozdollars)
TONY (Are you sure you don't want to come in, the water is lovely)
KWAME (holy crap holy crap holy crap your big day is right around the corner)
RAY and MATT (Hope those livers are training for life in New York, like Rocky before he went up against Ivan Drago).
YOU GUYS ROCK!! (And for the Aussies, ONYA!!!!)
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 4, 2007
Other Resolutions
Other Resolutions
(By the way, I do have a mental filter governing the passage between my brain and mouth. Unfortunately it has a doggy door that needs to be nailed shut, because sometimes those critters get out.)
1. Return calls. Return text messages. Return e-mails. Write an actual letter, with a pen and some pretty stationery every so often.
2. Continue to work out and eat healthIER. Avoid let's say, hypothetically, going to Komegashi and ordering the Green Tea Creme Brulee AND hazelnut chocolate and banana crepe thing with vanilla bean ice cream for dessert. After having tempura shrimp, salt and pepper squid, fried wings, miso soup and California rolls.
3. Take some sort of lessons. Ideas: Ballroom dancing, French language (I used to be somewhat fluent and now I really have to strain to get the gist of the conversation), fencing, Eskrima, kickboxing, some form of cooking.
4. Write my -- fuck it, I'm not even going to say it. I think if I can just find the discipline (not my strong suit) to sit down for 6 hours a day, I can bang out a decent book in a month. Of course, this would mean ignoring this blog, not taking any phone calls and avoiding all friends except the ones who come over to babysit. February sounds like a promising month for this undertaking.
5. Never be this drunk again:
6. Stop watching the Fantastic Four 2: Rise of the Silver Surfer and Spiderman 3 trailers over and over again. It's interfering with my sit around and pick my butt time.
I'm just kidding about all my resolutions by the way. In reality I only have one resolution, and that's to pass "Misirlou" on Expert. That freaking song. My arm always hurts like a bitch when I play it during the practice mode. It feels like I just gave the population of Greece a hand job. Not that I uh, would know what that feels like. Also, I hate this fucking guy (in a very green with envy for his Guitar Hero prowess way).
I love this one though. Matt Saracen broke through the top 10 of my favorite television characters with a thunder, but Tim Riggins is pretty tasty.
(By the way, I do have a mental filter governing the passage between my brain and mouth. Unfortunately it has a doggy door that needs to be nailed shut, because sometimes those critters get out.)
1. Return calls. Return text messages. Return e-mails. Write an actual letter, with a pen and some pretty stationery every so often.
2. Continue to work out and eat healthIER. Avoid let's say, hypothetically, going to Komegashi and ordering the Green Tea Creme Brulee AND hazelnut chocolate and banana crepe thing with vanilla bean ice cream for dessert. After having tempura shrimp, salt and pepper squid, fried wings, miso soup and California rolls.
3. Take some sort of lessons. Ideas: Ballroom dancing, French language (I used to be somewhat fluent and now I really have to strain to get the gist of the conversation), fencing, Eskrima, kickboxing, some form of cooking.
4. Write my -- fuck it, I'm not even going to say it. I think if I can just find the discipline (not my strong suit) to sit down for 6 hours a day, I can bang out a decent book in a month. Of course, this would mean ignoring this blog, not taking any phone calls and avoiding all friends except the ones who come over to babysit. February sounds like a promising month for this undertaking.
5. Never be this drunk again:
I have no idea what song we're singing,
but my guess is a Bon Jovi song of some sort.
6. Stop watching the Fantastic Four 2: Rise of the Silver Surfer and Spiderman 3 trailers over and over again. It's interfering with my sit around and pick my butt time.
I'm just kidding about all my resolutions by the way. In reality I only have one resolution, and that's to pass "Misirlou" on Expert. That freaking song. My arm always hurts like a bitch when I play it during the practice mode. It feels like I just gave the population of Greece a hand job. Not that I uh, would know what that feels like. Also, I hate this fucking guy (in a very green with envy for his Guitar Hero prowess way).
I love this one though. Matt Saracen broke through the top 10 of my favorite television characters with a thunder, but Tim Riggins is pretty tasty.
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.
January 1, 2007
Happy New Year!!!
Happy New Year!!!
First of course... resolutions. Incidentally, it's annoying when people say crap like "I don't make resolutions because if you really want to do something you should just do it and not wait for the new year" blah blah blah. Okay save it you self-important punk. It's tradition!! A lame tradition maybe, but tradition nonetheless. Last year I resolved to quit smoking, which was followed through upon (despite a recent momentary lapse that felt really, really, REALLY, stupidly, all things great and wonderful good.) I also promised to start working out and eating healthier, which also happened. We won't discuss the resolutions that fell by the wayside.
This year, I've resolved to:
BE A NICE PERSON.
I'll wait for the laughter to subside. Assuming there is laughter, which is a possibility since every time I've said it to someone their first response is a bark of disbelieving laughter followed by "Wait, you're serious?" And then more laughter as they ponder my impending failure at this Herculean task. The Augean Stables ain't got shit on the whirling cesspool of vile thoughts that is my mind.
To prepare for this, I consulted two guys I know, who are widely considered to be nice people, something that flabbergasts me because I've heard some of the things they say. I have changed their names to protect their identities.
Me: Let's discuss this whole me-being-nice thing. HA! Crap, now you fuckers have ME laughing out loud every time I say it. Okay so you guys are pretty often referred to as nice people. What is the difference between you and me?
Stike: You mean besides the penises?
Meve (in an accent local to a continent in Oceania): Yes, there are those.
Me: Yes, besides the penises. What makes people hang out with you and think you're a nice person?
Meve: Well you know most people when they think of something to say, they pass it through a filter. And maybe they will either refrain from saying it or change it to something else. Whereas you...
Me: Sooooo in order to be nice, I have to lie a lot. Got it.
Stike: Well.... yes.
Me: So when I got in the car today and said "It took you an hour and 15 minutes to get ready, why don't you just slit your penis, turn it inside out and turn it into a vagaina already" that's one of those things I will have to stop saying.
Stike: Exactly.
Me: This is going to suck. Maybe I'll just resolve to be a nicER person.
Stike: No way, that's too easy.
Me: Baby steps, you have to learn to crawl before you run.
Meve: My resolution is to stop drinking.
Me: Water?
Meve: No, liquor.
Stike: Oh that sounds good! I think I'll do that one too.
Me: Yeah okay. I wish you guys luck in that endeavor.
Meve: Maybe we'll just hinge our resolution on yours. The moment you fail at yours then we don't have to do ours anymore.
Me: Okay so champagne toast at 12:03 A.M. it is!
As it turns out, I completely overestimated myself. Right after midnight on New Year's, someone said we had to call someone and I made a face and said "Oh God, must we." My friend Julie caught me and started laughing. "Fuck, did I even make it to 12:01 A.M." No. More laughter. Sucks. I get three strikes don't I? Oh well. I have other resolutions too but they're generic, "Take Eskrima or French lessons" blah.
Well screw it, who wants to start the New Year off with a lengthy discussion of my failure. Let's talk about happy things.
CONGRATULATIONS MAZ AND RHANDS!!!!!!!!!!! I wish you guys a long life, filled with all the wonderful things you both deserve. *mwah* (P.S. Maz - Of course I SO have some 12-01-06D reserved for you. It's a bit difficult to wrap though, the tape keeps nicking my tongue. Maybe I'll just put it in a gift bag.)
First of course... resolutions. Incidentally, it's annoying when people say crap like "I don't make resolutions because if you really want to do something you should just do it and not wait for the new year" blah blah blah. Okay save it you self-important punk. It's tradition!! A lame tradition maybe, but tradition nonetheless. Last year I resolved to quit smoking, which was followed through upon (despite a recent momentary lapse that felt really, really, REALLY, stupidly, all things great and wonderful good.) I also promised to start working out and eating healthier, which also happened. We won't discuss the resolutions that fell by the wayside.
This year, I've resolved to:
BE A NICE PERSON.
I'll wait for the laughter to subside. Assuming there is laughter, which is a possibility since every time I've said it to someone their first response is a bark of disbelieving laughter followed by "Wait, you're serious?" And then more laughter as they ponder my impending failure at this Herculean task. The Augean Stables ain't got shit on the whirling cesspool of vile thoughts that is my mind.
To prepare for this, I consulted two guys I know, who are widely considered to be nice people, something that flabbergasts me because I've heard some of the things they say. I have changed their names to protect their identities.
Me: Let's discuss this whole me-being-nice thing. HA! Crap, now you fuckers have ME laughing out loud every time I say it. Okay so you guys are pretty often referred to as nice people. What is the difference between you and me?
Stike: You mean besides the penises?
Meve (in an accent local to a continent in Oceania): Yes, there are those.
Me: Yes, besides the penises. What makes people hang out with you and think you're a nice person?
Meve: Well you know most people when they think of something to say, they pass it through a filter. And maybe they will either refrain from saying it or change it to something else. Whereas you...
Me: Sooooo in order to be nice, I have to lie a lot. Got it.
Stike: Well.... yes.
Me: So when I got in the car today and said "It took you an hour and 15 minutes to get ready, why don't you just slit your penis, turn it inside out and turn it into a vagaina already" that's one of those things I will have to stop saying.
Stike: Exactly.
Me: This is going to suck. Maybe I'll just resolve to be a nicER person.
Stike: No way, that's too easy.
Me: Baby steps, you have to learn to crawl before you run.
Meve: My resolution is to stop drinking.
Me: Water?
Meve: No, liquor.
Stike: Oh that sounds good! I think I'll do that one too.
Me: Yeah okay. I wish you guys luck in that endeavor.
Meve: Maybe we'll just hinge our resolution on yours. The moment you fail at yours then we don't have to do ours anymore.
Me: Okay so champagne toast at 12:03 A.M. it is!
As it turns out, I completely overestimated myself. Right after midnight on New Year's, someone said we had to call someone and I made a face and said "Oh God, must we." My friend Julie caught me and started laughing. "Fuck, did I even make it to 12:01 A.M." No. More laughter. Sucks. I get three strikes don't I? Oh well. I have other resolutions too but they're generic, "Take Eskrima or French lessons" blah.
Well screw it, who wants to start the New Year off with a lengthy discussion of my failure. Let's talk about happy things.
CONGRATULATIONS MAZ AND RHANDS!!!!!!!!!!! I wish you guys a long life, filled with all the wonderful things you both deserve. *mwah* (P.S. Maz - Of course I SO have some 12-01-06D reserved for you. It's a bit difficult to wrap though, the tape keeps nicking my tongue. Maybe I'll just put it in a gift bag.)
December 13, 2006
Shower Thoughts Are Here Again Doo Da
Shower Thoughts Are Here Again Doo Da
But first, there's no show tonight due to unforeseen airport circumstances but I will be back on the air next week!
1. There's a Wiggles bandaid stuck to the wall of my shower. It's a little disconcerting to be in the shower naked and looking at them. And yet I haven't removed it.
2. Typos that make sense are great. I was showing this vibrating duck off online and accidentally said it was for the "bathrub" (the bathtub). Hee, a bathrub. That is my new favorite word. Let's all go have bathrubs. Bathrubs for all!!
3. I like to watch people shower. Not that I have any other outlet for this hobby besides Geo, I don't want you guys to start nervously looking out your bathroom windows in the morning (come on, what's a little peeping between friends). But if it were up to me people would be randomly half nekkid and wet with a snap of my fingers. Oh hello Mr. UPS Man, don't you look nice today. And my what a nice package you have. Oh hi Ms. Olive Garden Waitress, please set those toasted raviolis and clam stuffed mushrooms down and step back for a moment.
4. Damn, now I'm hungry.
5. Remember that time I said I wouldn't be able to decide between a lifetime of great sex and crappy food OR a lifetime of great food and crappy sex? I think the answer may lie with the time of day the question is posed. Because right now I would vote solidly for the food, but that could change at a moment's notice. Maybe I could just get a coin, with the word "HUNGRY" on one side and the word "HORNY" on the other.
6. What does any of this have to do with the shower? I don't know. I bought a gallon-sized bottle of conditioner at Costco last year and it's still around. I'm not a huge fan of the smell or texture of it, yet I can't bear to pour half a gallon of conditioner down the drain. See what parenthood does to you? Frugality rears its head at the stupidest of moments. Meanwhile, I think my hair smells like earwax. Will someone please pour it down the drain the next time they take a piss at my house? It's like the magically replenishing bottle of conditioner. Of course, that's what I get for shopping at Costco. One $6 bottle from there is large enough to condition the hair of New Zealand.
7. See, that was a shower thought.
8. Sometimes, I want to wear socks in the shower. Not that I actually do, but the urge is there. I've even had to pause after running the water and contemplate my lilac slipper socks on occasion.
I know I'm a freak.
But first, there's no show tonight due to unforeseen airport circumstances but I will be back on the air next week!
1. There's a Wiggles bandaid stuck to the wall of my shower. It's a little disconcerting to be in the shower naked and looking at them. And yet I haven't removed it.
2. Typos that make sense are great. I was showing this vibrating duck off online and accidentally said it was for the "bathrub" (the bathtub). Hee, a bathrub. That is my new favorite word. Let's all go have bathrubs. Bathrubs for all!!
3. I like to watch people shower. Not that I have any other outlet for this hobby besides Geo, I don't want you guys to start nervously looking out your bathroom windows in the morning (come on, what's a little peeping between friends). But if it were up to me people would be randomly half nekkid and wet with a snap of my fingers. Oh hello Mr. UPS Man, don't you look nice today. And my what a nice package you have. Oh hi Ms. Olive Garden Waitress, please set those toasted raviolis and clam stuffed mushrooms down and step back for a moment.
4. Damn, now I'm hungry.
5. Remember that time I said I wouldn't be able to decide between a lifetime of great sex and crappy food OR a lifetime of great food and crappy sex? I think the answer may lie with the time of day the question is posed. Because right now I would vote solidly for the food, but that could change at a moment's notice. Maybe I could just get a coin, with the word "HUNGRY" on one side and the word "HORNY" on the other.
6. What does any of this have to do with the shower? I don't know. I bought a gallon-sized bottle of conditioner at Costco last year and it's still around. I'm not a huge fan of the smell or texture of it, yet I can't bear to pour half a gallon of conditioner down the drain. See what parenthood does to you? Frugality rears its head at the stupidest of moments. Meanwhile, I think my hair smells like earwax. Will someone please pour it down the drain the next time they take a piss at my house? It's like the magically replenishing bottle of conditioner. Of course, that's what I get for shopping at Costco. One $6 bottle from there is large enough to condition the hair of New Zealand.
7. See, that was a shower thought.
8. Sometimes, I want to wear socks in the shower. Not that I actually do, but the urge is there. I've even had to pause after running the water and contemplate my lilac slipper socks on occasion.
I know I'm a freak.
December 11, 2006
Bad Smell Karma
Bad Smell Karma
First and foremost, LT rocks for his stellar play that has pushed our fantasy football team above and beyond the call of duty. Okay fine, and also for that whole breaking Shaun Alexander's record thing. LT restores my faith in pro athletes. If I worked at the NFL I would tote his picture along and flash it every time a player got arrested for drunk driving, murder, assaulting a police officer.
Anyway there's no appropriate segue, but I now have bad fart smelling karma.
It all stems from a text message Steve sent me from the airport last week. He asked me if I knew who Becky Hammon was and I replied that unfortunately, I still had some residual basketball knowledge left from my time at the WNBA league office. (It would be nice if you could climb into your own brain and scrub useless crap out but then what would be left.) He said that he'd conversed with her at the airport for 15 minutes or so, but thinks he drove her away with a fart because all of a sudden she "had to catch a plane." Being the good friend that I am, I laughed my ass off. A lot. If there's anything funnier than farting in front of a stranger, it's cutting a horrible one loose in front of a stranger who's kind of famous (Chill people, I said "kind of.")
So I was on the treadmill at the gym yesterday and an older gentleman next to me farted. The smell was overpowering, even if one hadn't been sprinting for ten minutes and out of breath because she lacks endurance. I tried to stay the course and keep running, so I wouldn't have to start my workout over at a different time. But his second one almost knocked me off the treadmill. I gave up and ran out of there, which actually served no purpose because I left my cell phone behind and had to immerse myself in the smell again to retrieve it.
After doing some sit-ups, I went into the Nautilus room and got on the anal pron machine. Yes, I'm sure it has an official name but you get on your hands and knees, grip something and grunt until your ass hurts. Thus, the anal pron machine. I looked up in between sets, right into the ass of the same older man from the cardio room. He was now in the machine next to me. I held my breath, finished my leg lifts and ran to twisty side-to-side machine. Except we were apparently on some weird parallel wavelength because at the same time, he sat down at the ab machine, with his ass to me once again. Keep in mind there are like 50 different machines in this room. So this time, after working out on the machine, instead of moving to the other ab machine like I was planning, I sat there and waited to see where he was going. He sat down at the leg press, which was across from the machine I was going to next, and this time I would have been sitting five feet from his open legs, directly in the line of fire. I went back to the cardio room. Luckily, while I was back on the treadmill again I saw him leave the gym.
By the way, the "Kids Say The Darndest Things" stage has officially begun. A heavyset man with grey hair and a red jacket walked by Geo at the gym and one of our three-year-olds pointed and cried out "Santa Claus!!!!!!!!" Geo was mortified but I couldn't stop laughing when he told me about it later.
First and foremost, LT rocks for his stellar play that has pushed our fantasy football team above and beyond the call of duty. Okay fine, and also for that whole breaking Shaun Alexander's record thing. LT restores my faith in pro athletes. If I worked at the NFL I would tote his picture along and flash it every time a player got arrested for drunk driving, murder, assaulting a police officer.
Anyway there's no appropriate segue, but I now have bad fart smelling karma.
It all stems from a text message Steve sent me from the airport last week. He asked me if I knew who Becky Hammon was and I replied that unfortunately, I still had some residual basketball knowledge left from my time at the WNBA league office. (It would be nice if you could climb into your own brain and scrub useless crap out but then what would be left.) He said that he'd conversed with her at the airport for 15 minutes or so, but thinks he drove her away with a fart because all of a sudden she "had to catch a plane." Being the good friend that I am, I laughed my ass off. A lot. If there's anything funnier than farting in front of a stranger, it's cutting a horrible one loose in front of a stranger who's kind of famous (Chill people, I said "kind of.")
So I was on the treadmill at the gym yesterday and an older gentleman next to me farted. The smell was overpowering, even if one hadn't been sprinting for ten minutes and out of breath because she lacks endurance. I tried to stay the course and keep running, so I wouldn't have to start my workout over at a different time. But his second one almost knocked me off the treadmill. I gave up and ran out of there, which actually served no purpose because I left my cell phone behind and had to immerse myself in the smell again to retrieve it.
After doing some sit-ups, I went into the Nautilus room and got on the anal pron machine. Yes, I'm sure it has an official name but you get on your hands and knees, grip something and grunt until your ass hurts. Thus, the anal pron machine. I looked up in between sets, right into the ass of the same older man from the cardio room. He was now in the machine next to me. I held my breath, finished my leg lifts and ran to twisty side-to-side machine. Except we were apparently on some weird parallel wavelength because at the same time, he sat down at the ab machine, with his ass to me once again. Keep in mind there are like 50 different machines in this room. So this time, after working out on the machine, instead of moving to the other ab machine like I was planning, I sat there and waited to see where he was going. He sat down at the leg press, which was across from the machine I was going to next, and this time I would have been sitting five feet from his open legs, directly in the line of fire. I went back to the cardio room. Luckily, while I was back on the treadmill again I saw him leave the gym.
By the way, the "Kids Say The Darndest Things" stage has officially begun. A heavyset man with grey hair and a red jacket walked by Geo at the gym and one of our three-year-olds pointed and cried out "Santa Claus!!!!!!!!" Geo was mortified but I couldn't stop laughing when he told me about it later.
November 27, 2006
The O.J. Interview
The O.J. Interview
Let's just skip the controversy okay? You guys don't have to watch it anymore, I sent my imaginary reporter over there and interviewed him too:
Reporter: So you're here to set the record straight O.J.
O.J.: Yes, I want to let the American public know that I didn't have anything to do with Nicole's death.
Reporter: And how are you going to do that?
O.J.: By establishing how I WOULD HAVE done it, had it been me that killed her.
Reporter: And how would that be?
O.J.: If I had killed her, I would have stabbed and slashed her to death, right at the house I paid for, while our kids were sleeping upstairs.
Reporter: Go on..
O.J.: And then I would have stabbed and slashed her lover to death, the man who had the audacity to fuck MY woman in MY house while MY kids slept.
Reporter: And then?
O.J.: And then I would leave a bloody trail as I walked away, have a chicken sandwich and a Sprite then hop on a plane to Chicago to establish an alibi. And pray that my celebrity status would let gullible idiots on a jury ignore my obvious guilt.
Reporter: Wait... how is that different from what actually happened?
O.J.: The REAL killer had a chicken sandwich and a Coke after. I would have had a chicken sandwich and a SPRITE.
Reporter: Ahhhh.
Let's just skip the controversy okay? You guys don't have to watch it anymore, I sent my imaginary reporter over there and interviewed him too:
Reporter: So you're here to set the record straight O.J.
O.J.: Yes, I want to let the American public know that I didn't have anything to do with Nicole's death.
Reporter: And how are you going to do that?
O.J.: By establishing how I WOULD HAVE done it, had it been me that killed her.
Reporter: And how would that be?
O.J.: If I had killed her, I would have stabbed and slashed her to death, right at the house I paid for, while our kids were sleeping upstairs.
Reporter: Go on..
O.J.: And then I would have stabbed and slashed her lover to death, the man who had the audacity to fuck MY woman in MY house while MY kids slept.
Reporter: And then?
O.J.: And then I would leave a bloody trail as I walked away, have a chicken sandwich and a Sprite then hop on a plane to Chicago to establish an alibi. And pray that my celebrity status would let gullible idiots on a jury ignore my obvious guilt.
Reporter: Wait... how is that different from what actually happened?
O.J.: The REAL killer had a chicken sandwich and a Coke after. I would have had a chicken sandwich and a SPRITE.
Reporter: Ahhhh.
November 16, 2006
Fake Interviews, Counting Goats and More Letters
Fake Interviews, Counting Goats and More Letters
1. I haven't sent any of my imaginary reporters out to do an interview since the 2004 Olympics. Figured it was about time.
Reporter: How have the injuries your team has sustained affected your chances at making the playoffs?
Tom Coughlin: They haven't, we are confident that we will make it all the way.
Reporter: Is that your water boy and towel boy over there in uniform?
Tom Coughlin: We actually refer to them now as "strong side linebacker" and "defensive end."
Reporter: O-kay. Um, is that Andrea Kremer over there, suiting up as well?
Tom Coughlin: She had a little trouble learning to tuck the ball, but the little lady sure can catch.
Reporter: What's that bloody thing in your hand?
Tom Coughlin: Oh nothing, just a rabbit's foot. Wrapped in a horseshoe charm. Dipped in holy water. Blessed by a priest, a rabbi, a Navajo shaman and a Muslim cleric.
Reporter: Is that a four-leaf-clover drawn on the rabbit's foot?
Tom Coughlin: Yeah, those suckers are really hard to find.
Reporter: Back to you Riss.
2. There's a comedian who has a shtick about how counting sheep never works for him because the sheep would start doing weird things. People laughed politely but I was in hysterics because the same crap happens to me. Except my sheep actually turn into other things. Once it turned into Conan O'Brien. Last night, I was counting sheep and the first few were actual sheep, but as I was patting myself on the back for having superior mind control powers, my sheep turned into goats. Followed by a llama, the hoochie shepherdess from Toy Story and a turtle which floated by holding a pink umbrella that was open but inverted.
3. I found some more letters in my inbox that I forgot to send out:
Dear PSE&G,
I feel compelled to inform you that this coming winter I will be heating up one small home in Jersey City, not the state of Minnesota during a blizzard. Please adjust my bills accordingly to reflect this. Thank you.
Dear Global Warming,
Per my letter to PSE&G expressing my concern over our gas bills, please make this another "warm winter." Also, please stop melting the polar ice caps, thinning the ozone layer, heating the oceans, killing off species, wearing fur, testing on animals, encouraging Paris Hilton to make "music", encouraging celebrities to use babies as accessories, promoting terrorism and injuring the New York Giants. Also, please bring back McDonald's fried apple pies. Thank you.
Dear the person who found my blog by typing in "Are some men really sociopaths or just asses?"
If men are sociopaths based on their dating behavior then women are psychopaths. Though I joke about "deez nuts" I could never be a man, because women give me a headache. Yes, I sometimes give myself a headache. The things we do, the things we care about, the things we can't just let go. Sometimes when Geo and I argue, I'll know we're talking about two different things but I'm like a dog with a bone.
1. I haven't sent any of my imaginary reporters out to do an interview since the 2004 Olympics. Figured it was about time.
Reporter: How have the injuries your team has sustained affected your chances at making the playoffs?
Tom Coughlin: They haven't, we are confident that we will make it all the way.
Reporter: Is that your water boy and towel boy over there in uniform?
Tom Coughlin: We actually refer to them now as "strong side linebacker" and "defensive end."
Reporter: O-kay. Um, is that Andrea Kremer over there, suiting up as well?
Tom Coughlin: She had a little trouble learning to tuck the ball, but the little lady sure can catch.
Reporter: What's that bloody thing in your hand?
Tom Coughlin: Oh nothing, just a rabbit's foot. Wrapped in a horseshoe charm. Dipped in holy water. Blessed by a priest, a rabbi, a Navajo shaman and a Muslim cleric.
Reporter: Is that a four-leaf-clover drawn on the rabbit's foot?
Tom Coughlin: Yeah, those suckers are really hard to find.
Reporter: Back to you Riss.
2. There's a comedian who has a shtick about how counting sheep never works for him because the sheep would start doing weird things. People laughed politely but I was in hysterics because the same crap happens to me. Except my sheep actually turn into other things. Once it turned into Conan O'Brien. Last night, I was counting sheep and the first few were actual sheep, but as I was patting myself on the back for having superior mind control powers, my sheep turned into goats. Followed by a llama, the hoochie shepherdess from Toy Story and a turtle which floated by holding a pink umbrella that was open but inverted.
3. I found some more letters in my inbox that I forgot to send out:
Dear PSE&G,
I feel compelled to inform you that this coming winter I will be heating up one small home in Jersey City, not the state of Minnesota during a blizzard. Please adjust my bills accordingly to reflect this. Thank you.
Dear Global Warming,
Per my letter to PSE&G expressing my concern over our gas bills, please make this another "warm winter." Also, please stop melting the polar ice caps, thinning the ozone layer, heating the oceans, killing off species, wearing fur, testing on animals, encouraging Paris Hilton to make "music", encouraging celebrities to use babies as accessories, promoting terrorism and injuring the New York Giants. Also, please bring back McDonald's fried apple pies. Thank you.
Dear the person who found my blog by typing in "Are some men really sociopaths or just asses?"
If men are sociopaths based on their dating behavior then women are psychopaths. Though I joke about "deez nuts" I could never be a man, because women give me a headache. Yes, I sometimes give myself a headache. The things we do, the things we care about, the things we can't just let go. Sometimes when Geo and I argue, I'll know we're talking about two different things but I'm like a dog with a bone.
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