Hello all,
When I was in 3rd grade Mrs. Mauer, my teacher, taught my class about cause and effect. When there is a action there is reaction.
Ex.
Cause.
Dad had his own personal Rambo marathon this past weekend.
Effect.
He's been wearing a red bandanna rapped around his head all week long while he has been doing yard work. I don't have the heart to tell him that he looks ridiculous.
I just took Graham, my Scottie, to Purrs and Grrs to get groomed and thought that this was a good time to use cause and effect to retell the situation for the blog.
Cause.
I like to take Graham to froo-froo places to get him groomed.
Effect.
I have to deal with the people who work there calling him my "Baby" and feeling proud when they call me his "Daddy"
Cause.
I like to take Graham to froo-froo places to get him groomed.
Effect.
I have to sit through an action demonstration of why a dog stroller is a good investment, not realizing that the stuffed animal in the stroller was a real Puggle until I left.
Cause.
Graham gets a haircut.
Effect.
I get a whole evening of Mom saying things like, "He looks so different!!", "He's so cute, now!!", "His hair looks like Seth's!!" "Have his ears always been so big?!?", "Did he change color?!?", "He's still so dark, I can't see his eyes! I just want to put little light bulbs in his eyes so I can see them!" That is why my parents are not watching Graham for any extended period of time.
Cause.
Graham gets a haircut.
Effect.
Spike, my parents Boston Terrier, humps him because he looks so pretty.
Cause.
Graham gets a haircut.
Effect.
Dad pays Graham more attention realizing that he could give him a better haircut like he did all of his frat brothers in college if only I would hold him while he jabs the sharpest scissors he can find at his face, after telling me yesterday that no matter how many new pairs of glasses he gets he can't see as well as he used to. Regardless, Dad like his hair short cause it also reminds him of Seth.
Cause.
I pay for Graham's haircut
Effect.
As much as I try to direct the attention to me, Graham gets all the attention. Damn!
He does look really cute though.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Saturday, September 20, 2008
The Phantom of the Basement
Hello,
I am under a lot of stress, it's a whole nother story.
The other day I was in the bathroom and I peed all over myself. It's gross, I know, but it happened. I like to sit down to go to the bathroom sometimes, it takes the pressure off aiming, and I didn't realize that when I "positioned myself", I was pointed between the toilet seat and bowl and ended up peeing out all over my legs and pants. Thank God I was home and nobody was awake. But, Jesus Christ! I am 25 years old, why am I peeing on myself?!?!? I feel like an invalid! That, people, is how stressed out I am, I'm so stressed out, I peed myself!
One of my new favorite things to do when I get home from work is to take the dogs out and have a nice drink in my hand. Looking at the 2 acre estate that is in no way mine, I like to feel like I'm a lady of leisure. As I was almost done with my Leinenkugel, I sat down on the grass and the dogs one by one came to see what I was up to. Graham, my Scottie, came, we hugged , he left. My parents Boston Terrier came and put his front paws on my legs and kept on starring at me. "Stop it.........go away.........what?" He just kept on starring at me. I looked down and nestled in his torso, sprouting from a little white muff, an octopus tentacle was coming at me.
"AWABOUYAAAAH!" That also is gross. I have never seen such a large disgusting penis come out of such a small dog. But on the other hand, it was nice to be flirted with for a change.
Yesterday was Friday and we all know what that means.............Pizza Night with the 'rents. After Dad came home with the pizza, he started to clear the table while I was in the living room watching TV. I look up just as Dad yells, "God damn it, Graham!" and hits my dog across the face.
"What the hell are you doing!?!?!"
"Well, he kept pressing his wet nose up against my leg!!"
"Do you hear how crazy you sound?"
"We'll he had it comin'!"
"He's a dog, you crazy old bastard!"
To far, I know. Mom chimed in, yelling at me not to call him that, even if I didn't mean it, but I probably did. I did. We fought a little more and I stormed downstairs not finishing my Pizza King pizza.
While I was in the basement I went through boxes, drank some beer, read a book, I forgot how much there is to do in the basement. When I was in high school I spent most of my time down there and forgot how empowering the cool and musty air was. It was time for me to emerge and get that pizza that was bought for me, and was deservedly mine. The door to the upstairs was closed! I didn't close it!?!? As I started to climb the stairs I heard voices coming from the sun room that were not my parent's. My parents locked me in the basement to hide me from house guests! I was the Phantom of the Basement! I looked through the crack in the door but couldn't make out who was up there. Everyone was speaking with a Hoosier slur and talking about the fair, so I thought I'd avoid that bullet and stay in my sanctuary. When the voices were gone, I popped onto the surface and took the dogs outside and found what the visitors were all about.
There is a Mike Phipps sign on our yard the size of a dinning room table big enough for the Brady Bunch. Apparently, Mr. Phipps is an acquaintance of my parents running for som county seat (which I thought went out if business long ago for plaid overuse) and was buttering them up with some 4-H talk so that he could but that eyesore on the lawn. He was just using them. I mean I was using them too but that was for pizza....and were related. Vote Phipps!
I am under a lot of stress, it's a whole nother story.
The other day I was in the bathroom and I peed all over myself. It's gross, I know, but it happened. I like to sit down to go to the bathroom sometimes, it takes the pressure off aiming, and I didn't realize that when I "positioned myself", I was pointed between the toilet seat and bowl and ended up peeing out all over my legs and pants. Thank God I was home and nobody was awake. But, Jesus Christ! I am 25 years old, why am I peeing on myself?!?!? I feel like an invalid! That, people, is how stressed out I am, I'm so stressed out, I peed myself!
One of my new favorite things to do when I get home from work is to take the dogs out and have a nice drink in my hand. Looking at the 2 acre estate that is in no way mine, I like to feel like I'm a lady of leisure. As I was almost done with my Leinenkugel, I sat down on the grass and the dogs one by one came to see what I was up to. Graham, my Scottie, came, we hugged , he left. My parents Boston Terrier came and put his front paws on my legs and kept on starring at me. "Stop it.........go away.........what?" He just kept on starring at me. I looked down and nestled in his torso, sprouting from a little white muff, an octopus tentacle was coming at me.
"AWABOUYAAAAH!" That also is gross. I have never seen such a large disgusting penis come out of such a small dog. But on the other hand, it was nice to be flirted with for a change.
Yesterday was Friday and we all know what that means.............Pizza Night with the 'rents. After Dad came home with the pizza, he started to clear the table while I was in the living room watching TV. I look up just as Dad yells, "God damn it, Graham!" and hits my dog across the face.
"What the hell are you doing!?!?!"
"Well, he kept pressing his wet nose up against my leg!!"
"Do you hear how crazy you sound?"
"We'll he had it comin'!"
"He's a dog, you crazy old bastard!"
To far, I know. Mom chimed in, yelling at me not to call him that, even if I didn't mean it, but I probably did. I did. We fought a little more and I stormed downstairs not finishing my Pizza King pizza.
While I was in the basement I went through boxes, drank some beer, read a book, I forgot how much there is to do in the basement. When I was in high school I spent most of my time down there and forgot how empowering the cool and musty air was. It was time for me to emerge and get that pizza that was bought for me, and was deservedly mine. The door to the upstairs was closed! I didn't close it!?!? As I started to climb the stairs I heard voices coming from the sun room that were not my parent's. My parents locked me in the basement to hide me from house guests! I was the Phantom of the Basement! I looked through the crack in the door but couldn't make out who was up there. Everyone was speaking with a Hoosier slur and talking about the fair, so I thought I'd avoid that bullet and stay in my sanctuary. When the voices were gone, I popped onto the surface and took the dogs outside and found what the visitors were all about.
There is a Mike Phipps sign on our yard the size of a dinning room table big enough for the Brady Bunch. Apparently, Mr. Phipps is an acquaintance of my parents running for som county seat (which I thought went out if business long ago for plaid overuse) and was buttering them up with some 4-H talk so that he could but that eyesore on the lawn. He was just using them. I mean I was using them too but that was for pizza....and were related. Vote Phipps!
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Late Night Bromance?
Hello all,
I have not been posting lately because of my work schedule. I go in and mentally check out, so there's a big part of my day I don't remember. I have been trying to stay cognitive for the last couple so I could spew out a blog worthy of me.
So there is this guy at work..............I know what you're thinking, I wish. No, he's some big guy, a real blowhard, a belligerent ass. He makes all of these chauvinistic jokes to the girls, but I think he has a bit of a thing for me. Yikes!!! Everyone has noticed.
The other day he came up to me and said, "Hey, ya know I used to teach hip hop." How would I know that? I hate people who say that they teach hip hop, yoga, personal trainer, same thing, everyone thinks they can. No, you can't. Anyways, he came up to me and said, "Hey, ya wanna see me do something cool?" No no no no no no, "Um......k."
He turned around and said, "I can shake just my ass." He proceeded to what he thought was an isolation of his his ass, but because of his ample stature and the law of inertia, his whole body vibrated like the cup of water on the dashboard in Jurassic Park once the T-Rex was on the hunt. I almost threw up.
He was so proud of himself. I said, "Well......ya..........Uh........ I, ur.", and quickly left, pretending to look busy. He has done this to numerous people in front of me hoping to see some validation in my face. It ain't gonna happen. He comes up to me and feels my arms saying that he wished and and was trying to get a "Skinny-Minnie" body like mine. Thanks?
I am moving to NY in 2 1/2 weeks and he is thinking on moving back and tries to give me advice that sounds like this:
"Hey, ya know about the red buses, the ones run by the Mexicans, do you know where those let out, they come right into Times Square, for only $2, yeah, their great, it only takes 20 min., anywhere in the city, 20 min., that how it was for me, yeah, their run by immigrants and they don't charge a lot of money and they might go under ya know because of the government but what are ya gonna do, huh, speakin' o' which, who are ya gonna vote for, politics don't mean much to me, but who, huh, who, come on, it's not gonna piss me off, who."
He does this to me 9 times a day, I 'm secretly plotting his death.
Last night I was watching David Letterman and Richard Simmons was on. I never really realized how much Richard Simmons and my mom look the same. Same hair, chunky white tennis shoes, very excitable, like a small dog. Although, his clothes are much more interesting and colorful and his legs look better in shorts. Seriously Letterman, what kind of world do we live in where Richard Simmons gets 2 segments and Mary Louise Parker only gets one? He was lucky Craig Furguson was on after him or I'd be getting very pissy. I used to watch Conan, so I flipped over to see who his guests were, they were good, but then you have to deal with watching him. That wasn't worth the effort. Seriously watch Craig Furguson.
I'm thinking about getting a Mr. Potato Head. I'm going through a stressful time in my life, and when I do, I find it comforting to get obsessed with simple things. When I was applying for colleges and scholarships I got a Bear in the Big Blue House coloring book and a Crayola 96 box to avoid the stress mandated by Mom.
"Noah, the Kiwana's scholarship for mediocre red heads is due this Monday when are you going to start working on it?"
"I don't know, I'm out of plum do you think Pip and Pop could be wisteria instead?"
"What?"
"Pip and Pop, Bear's otter friends. I think their brothers, or maybe just friends, I don't know, but I know they're the same color."
"Noah, you have to finish this, are going to do it or not?"
"Yes, but the sharpener on the box is crappy. If the crayons aren't sharp it looks like a 2 year old colored this."
"Noah!!"
"I know, 2 year olds don't really color too often."
Yes, I should get a Mr. Potato Head.
I have not been posting lately because of my work schedule. I go in and mentally check out, so there's a big part of my day I don't remember. I have been trying to stay cognitive for the last couple so I could spew out a blog worthy of me.
So there is this guy at work..............I know what you're thinking, I wish. No, he's some big guy, a real blowhard, a belligerent ass. He makes all of these chauvinistic jokes to the girls, but I think he has a bit of a thing for me. Yikes!!! Everyone has noticed.
The other day he came up to me and said, "Hey, ya know I used to teach hip hop." How would I know that? I hate people who say that they teach hip hop, yoga, personal trainer, same thing, everyone thinks they can. No, you can't. Anyways, he came up to me and said, "Hey, ya wanna see me do something cool?" No no no no no no, "Um......k."
He turned around and said, "I can shake just my ass." He proceeded to what he thought was an isolation of his his ass, but because of his ample stature and the law of inertia, his whole body vibrated like the cup of water on the dashboard in Jurassic Park once the T-Rex was on the hunt. I almost threw up.
He was so proud of himself. I said, "Well......ya..........Uh........ I, ur.", and quickly left, pretending to look busy. He has done this to numerous people in front of me hoping to see some validation in my face. It ain't gonna happen. He comes up to me and feels my arms saying that he wished and and was trying to get a "Skinny-Minnie" body like mine. Thanks?
I am moving to NY in 2 1/2 weeks and he is thinking on moving back and tries to give me advice that sounds like this:
"Hey, ya know about the red buses, the ones run by the Mexicans, do you know where those let out, they come right into Times Square, for only $2, yeah, their great, it only takes 20 min., anywhere in the city, 20 min., that how it was for me, yeah, their run by immigrants and they don't charge a lot of money and they might go under ya know because of the government but what are ya gonna do, huh, speakin' o' which, who are ya gonna vote for, politics don't mean much to me, but who, huh, who, come on, it's not gonna piss me off, who."
He does this to me 9 times a day, I 'm secretly plotting his death.
Last night I was watching David Letterman and Richard Simmons was on. I never really realized how much Richard Simmons and my mom look the same. Same hair, chunky white tennis shoes, very excitable, like a small dog. Although, his clothes are much more interesting and colorful and his legs look better in shorts. Seriously Letterman, what kind of world do we live in where Richard Simmons gets 2 segments and Mary Louise Parker only gets one? He was lucky Craig Furguson was on after him or I'd be getting very pissy. I used to watch Conan, so I flipped over to see who his guests were, they were good, but then you have to deal with watching him. That wasn't worth the effort. Seriously watch Craig Furguson.
I'm thinking about getting a Mr. Potato Head. I'm going through a stressful time in my life, and when I do, I find it comforting to get obsessed with simple things. When I was applying for colleges and scholarships I got a Bear in the Big Blue House coloring book and a Crayola 96 box to avoid the stress mandated by Mom.
"Noah, the Kiwana's scholarship for mediocre red heads is due this Monday when are you going to start working on it?"
"I don't know, I'm out of plum do you think Pip and Pop could be wisteria instead?"
"What?"
"Pip and Pop, Bear's otter friends. I think their brothers, or maybe just friends, I don't know, but I know they're the same color."
"Noah, you have to finish this, are going to do it or not?"
"Yes, but the sharpener on the box is crappy. If the crayons aren't sharp it looks like a 2 year old colored this."
"Noah!!"
"I know, 2 year olds don't really color too often."
Yes, I should get a Mr. Potato Head.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Plague of the $23
Hello all,
I can only hope that now is the winter of my discontent. Explaination: I can not make more than $23 at a lunch shift at Ruby Tuesday. Seriously, I could go up to a table with a plate full of steaming poo and at the end of the day I would make $23. I could go to my tables and arrange free blow jobs by the best in the porn industry for free and I would still walk out of there with only $23.
I have done neither of those 2 things but a good amount of things in between and still $23. Everyone else is like, "Ooh I made $31", "Yay, I made $40", those statements are often followed by wants and needs for pot and alcohol before they come back for their dinner shift. These people suck, and CHRIST ON A STICK I CAN ONLY MAKE $23! Why, why why why why why?!?!?
I believe Oprah is a bunch of mumbo-jumbo, but millions follow her like sheep. Her and her "Secret". Fine! Fine, Secret believers! If it works, if it's real, here it freakin' is! I want to be successful in the career that I had set out for myself! I want my estranged boyfriend to want me so much it's obscene! I want to be happy! Really happy, not that fake, I believe in me and I love me for who I am crap! I'm talkin' luck, opportunity and money, fame AND fortune! If I get any more crap in my life, I'm gonna stab a bitch! I saw that Oprah about the Secret and how it works. Surprisingly, this is not the way. Shocker, I know. For the women who stood up in the audience and said, "I do meditate every day and I really do want it. It's all I want. Why is this not happening for me?", I felt so sorry for her because the Secret teachers said to her, and Oprah agreed, that if she really wanted it then it would happen and if it wasn't happening after she had gone throuh all of the appropriate steps then it wasn't really what she wanted. WHAT THE FUCK? You bitches.
Not everyone has the ability, such as Oprah to, sit in a room and think, "Gee, Black God, how can I be happy? How can my 2 billion dollars and adoring fans make me happy? Oh! I know I have to love me too...........OK! Wow, I do love me. That's better. Wow, this must work."
I am sitting in a Starbucks durring the break in my double shift. My boyfriend's mom, who has been very generous to me, gave me her personal computer for me to use to get my life going. It has a Simpson's skin on it. I like the Simpson's, not love, but I watch it when it's on and thought that it was an eclectic look and decided not to take it off, and didn't know how to without hurting the exterior. All of my friends and family have looked at it and said the same thing, "Yeah, uh, well, that's neat, huh?" Some man just stopped me, actually made me stop typing and take off my head phones to tell me that he thought my computer was cool. I am still on the fence on whether I will find his car while he is in the bathroom and jab one his car's tires or just accept it because my compliments are few and far between these days.
On the way to work this morning there were older men in hats and vests on every overpass in both directions. They had flags with them. Flags on stands, flags in their hands, even flags with crosses on the top. Because where would God rather be present if not over the American flag? They were standing over the interstate, yelling and waving, legs hanging over and everything. All to get people's attention to inform them to remember September 11th. I don't know about you, but nothing would really bring more attention to September 11th than a bunch of redneck Jusus-freaks fallin' off overpasses, killing confussed motorists down below.
I can only hope that now is the winter of my discontent. Explaination: I can not make more than $23 at a lunch shift at Ruby Tuesday. Seriously, I could go up to a table with a plate full of steaming poo and at the end of the day I would make $23. I could go to my tables and arrange free blow jobs by the best in the porn industry for free and I would still walk out of there with only $23.
I have done neither of those 2 things but a good amount of things in between and still $23. Everyone else is like, "Ooh I made $31", "Yay, I made $40", those statements are often followed by wants and needs for pot and alcohol before they come back for their dinner shift. These people suck, and CHRIST ON A STICK I CAN ONLY MAKE $23! Why, why why why why why?!?!?
I believe Oprah is a bunch of mumbo-jumbo, but millions follow her like sheep. Her and her "Secret". Fine! Fine, Secret believers! If it works, if it's real, here it freakin' is! I want to be successful in the career that I had set out for myself! I want my estranged boyfriend to want me so much it's obscene! I want to be happy! Really happy, not that fake, I believe in me and I love me for who I am crap! I'm talkin' luck, opportunity and money, fame AND fortune! If I get any more crap in my life, I'm gonna stab a bitch! I saw that Oprah about the Secret and how it works. Surprisingly, this is not the way. Shocker, I know. For the women who stood up in the audience and said, "I do meditate every day and I really do want it. It's all I want. Why is this not happening for me?", I felt so sorry for her because the Secret teachers said to her, and Oprah agreed, that if she really wanted it then it would happen and if it wasn't happening after she had gone throuh all of the appropriate steps then it wasn't really what she wanted. WHAT THE FUCK? You bitches.
Not everyone has the ability, such as Oprah to, sit in a room and think, "Gee, Black God, how can I be happy? How can my 2 billion dollars and adoring fans make me happy? Oh! I know I have to love me too...........OK! Wow, I do love me. That's better. Wow, this must work."
I am sitting in a Starbucks durring the break in my double shift. My boyfriend's mom, who has been very generous to me, gave me her personal computer for me to use to get my life going. It has a Simpson's skin on it. I like the Simpson's, not love, but I watch it when it's on and thought that it was an eclectic look and decided not to take it off, and didn't know how to without hurting the exterior. All of my friends and family have looked at it and said the same thing, "Yeah, uh, well, that's neat, huh?" Some man just stopped me, actually made me stop typing and take off my head phones to tell me that he thought my computer was cool. I am still on the fence on whether I will find his car while he is in the bathroom and jab one his car's tires or just accept it because my compliments are few and far between these days.
On the way to work this morning there were older men in hats and vests on every overpass in both directions. They had flags with them. Flags on stands, flags in their hands, even flags with crosses on the top. Because where would God rather be present if not over the American flag? They were standing over the interstate, yelling and waving, legs hanging over and everything. All to get people's attention to inform them to remember September 11th. I don't know about you, but nothing would really bring more attention to September 11th than a bunch of redneck Jusus-freaks fallin' off overpasses, killing confussed motorists down below.
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Bizarro Tina Fey
Hello,
I came home the other night just as a rerun of SNL started, Mom was sitting in her spot.
"Hello Mom."
"Hi"
I sit down
"Oh, this a good one."
"Is that Sarah Palin?"
"No Mom, that's Tina Fey."
She perks up in her chair pretending to not have just woken up
"Are you sure? They look a lot alike"
"Yes, I'm sure. You didn't even know who Tina Fey was until I explained it to you after David Letterman noticed it, and anyways this is a rerun."
"How do you know?"
"Because Sarah Palin is trying to get elected, she's not on SNL."
"She could be."
"No, she's not, she's busy."
"How do you know?"
"It doesn't matter. This is a RERUN."
"How do you know? They really look A LOT a like!"
"Because Baby Mama came out months ago and the writer's strike is over now."
"What? How do-"
"That what she's talking about, Mom. If you would just LISTEN TO WHAT I AM SAYING AND ACT LIKE YOU WEREN'T JUST ASLEEP FOR THE LAST 3 HOURS, you might be able to keep up."
I came home the other night just as a rerun of SNL started, Mom was sitting in her spot.
"Hello Mom."
"Hi"
I sit down
"Oh, this a good one."
"Is that Sarah Palin?"
"No Mom, that's Tina Fey."
She perks up in her chair pretending to not have just woken up
"Are you sure? They look a lot alike"
"Yes, I'm sure. You didn't even know who Tina Fey was until I explained it to you after David Letterman noticed it, and anyways this is a rerun."
"How do you know?"
"Because Sarah Palin is trying to get elected, she's not on SNL."
"She could be."
"No, she's not, she's busy."
"How do you know?"
"It doesn't matter. This is a RERUN."
"How do you know? They really look A LOT a like!"
"Because Baby Mama came out months ago and the writer's strike is over now."
"What? How do-"
"That what she's talking about, Mom. If you would just LISTEN TO WHAT I AM SAYING AND ACT LIKE YOU WEREN'T JUST ASLEEP FOR THE LAST 3 HOURS, you might be able to keep up."
Rabbits + Restaurants = Hell
Hello,
So yesterday I was at a rabbit show. Yeah, I said it R-A-B-B-I-T S-H-O-W, it happened, I don't regret it. If it helps out it was a rabbit convention, yes they have conventions. Don't judge me. I was there visiting a brother, real one not a black person, and a friend. I used to show rabbits and thought this then and it is still true that people who show rabbits have some type of problem. Malformed, extreme obesity, crippled, social anxiety, a hexagon-shaped tongue that makes you talk funny, it's always something. I have a speech impediment that I inherited from my father. it's not too noticeable. One may think that it's a small Helen Hunt-like quirk in my cadence, but it's not. I i iii nn mmmm mmm mmm my hhhhhh hhhhe aaaad I sooooo uuuouundss ll lll lllli li li like th th th this.
Anyways, these rabbit people are crazy. Rabbits show as much affection as an iguana, don't let the fur fool you. The dog show may be 3 barns down, but the real bitches are at the rabbit show. And these poor people who show the rabbits clearly can only think one thing. The rabbits must clearly have some healing properties that they hope will cure their ailments. Like leaches, exhibitors place them on their chests in the shape of half footballs clutching on by their hook-like claws hoping that they will wake up tomorrow 500 lbs thinner able to ride in their Hover Round for fun instead of necessity. That's what I would do. The same people who were fat, slow, and crippled since I was a child were the same way yesterday.
I am extremely allergic to rabbits, so once I learned how to breathe and control my studder I was no longer in need of vapid affection of the rabbits thus being unfooled by their hypnotic stare. By the end of the day, granted it was only 90 min., I could feel hair in my throat and eyes as if the rabbits knew I was there and started to grow little bunny killers inside of me, determined to bring me back to the depths of hell. My eyes are still scratchy.
While I was there observing my friend show, a very large, horizontally and vertically, man walked by with a small white rabbit clutched to his chest (!) . I leaned over to my brother and said, "Oh Lenny, he likes to pet the rabbits." Expecting a huge laugh, clearly referencing the book Of Mice and Men, I look at my brother with vacant eyes. "Lenny.......Of Mice and Men.........you know.... the book."
"Uh, no"
"It's a famous American classic."
"I don't really read books."
"Um, OK, well, it was required reading in high school."
"Yeah, that was a long time ago. I'm really more of a movie person."
"It was a movie! It had Gary Sinise in it."
"Oh! Yeah.......I didn't see that."
By then I couldn't remember what made it funny. And explaining to someone who doesn't know the reference to which you are referring after examples and explanation.....well, that's not funny. I'm convinced I'm the Rockefeller baby dropped of in Crown Point, IN 25 years ago by mistake. I'm certain.
I am working in a restaurant right now, the people are............"good" people and I don't want to sound like I'm better than the average employee.......but I'm a better than them. I don't start off sentences with phrases like:
"Once I pay off this ticket for possession I'm gonna........."
or
"Yesterday I was talkin' to my 3rd kid's dad in prison and....."
or
".......and you know that cop took all of my pot home for himself."
And seriously, we are not in college. If you could not start every sentence off with, "God, I am so hung over....", that'd be great.
So yesterday I was at a rabbit show. Yeah, I said it R-A-B-B-I-T S-H-O-W, it happened, I don't regret it. If it helps out it was a rabbit convention, yes they have conventions. Don't judge me. I was there visiting a brother, real one not a black person, and a friend. I used to show rabbits and thought this then and it is still true that people who show rabbits have some type of problem. Malformed, extreme obesity, crippled, social anxiety, a hexagon-shaped tongue that makes you talk funny, it's always something. I have a speech impediment that I inherited from my father. it's not too noticeable. One may think that it's a small Helen Hunt-like quirk in my cadence, but it's not. I i iii nn mmmm mmm mmm my hhhhhh hhhhe aaaad I sooooo uuuouundss ll lll lllli li li like th th th this.
Anyways, these rabbit people are crazy. Rabbits show as much affection as an iguana, don't let the fur fool you. The dog show may be 3 barns down, but the real bitches are at the rabbit show. And these poor people who show the rabbits clearly can only think one thing. The rabbits must clearly have some healing properties that they hope will cure their ailments. Like leaches, exhibitors place them on their chests in the shape of half footballs clutching on by their hook-like claws hoping that they will wake up tomorrow 500 lbs thinner able to ride in their Hover Round for fun instead of necessity. That's what I would do. The same people who were fat, slow, and crippled since I was a child were the same way yesterday.
I am extremely allergic to rabbits, so once I learned how to breathe and control my studder I was no longer in need of vapid affection of the rabbits thus being unfooled by their hypnotic stare. By the end of the day, granted it was only 90 min., I could feel hair in my throat and eyes as if the rabbits knew I was there and started to grow little bunny killers inside of me, determined to bring me back to the depths of hell. My eyes are still scratchy.
While I was there observing my friend show, a very large, horizontally and vertically, man walked by with a small white rabbit clutched to his chest (!) . I leaned over to my brother and said, "Oh Lenny, he likes to pet the rabbits." Expecting a huge laugh, clearly referencing the book Of Mice and Men, I look at my brother with vacant eyes. "Lenny.......Of Mice and Men.........you know.... the book."
"Uh, no"
"It's a famous American classic."
"I don't really read books."
"Um, OK, well, it was required reading in high school."
"Yeah, that was a long time ago. I'm really more of a movie person."
"It was a movie! It had Gary Sinise in it."
"Oh! Yeah.......I didn't see that."
By then I couldn't remember what made it funny. And explaining to someone who doesn't know the reference to which you are referring after examples and explanation.....well, that's not funny. I'm convinced I'm the Rockefeller baby dropped of in Crown Point, IN 25 years ago by mistake. I'm certain.
I am working in a restaurant right now, the people are............"good" people and I don't want to sound like I'm better than the average employee.......but I'm a better than them. I don't start off sentences with phrases like:
"Once I pay off this ticket for possession I'm gonna........."
or
"Yesterday I was talkin' to my 3rd kid's dad in prison and....."
or
".......and you know that cop took all of my pot home for himself."
And seriously, we are not in college. If you could not start every sentence off with, "God, I am so hung over....", that'd be great.
Friday, September 5, 2008
Let's Get Topical, Topical.....
Hello,
Let's get down to business; due to the deluge of a single vote, I will be doing a healthy combination of personal, ambiguous, topical, and creative writing to compose my blogs. Thank you to everyone who voted....no seriously it was just one, thanks Krista.
I have been watching the Republican National Convention the last three days, not because I was actually willing to accept what they were going to say, but I wanted to get pissed off and liberal about the 8 shades of ludicrous that would occur. I have complied a list of some of the WTF moments for your reading pleasure.........and more specifically, mine. Sorry Matt Doerr.
-The sea of white on white on navy blue - white hair, white people, navy blue suits. It was like the foam on top of a Welches grape soda. They tried to show any ethnic people that were in the audience, but they were few and far between.
-Crazy hats. Sun hats, baseball caps, cowboy hats, army hats, elephant hats, over-sized top hats. Geez people, you know what they say about people who over-do their personality on the outside........they are compensating for something on the inside- yikes!
-I know there were gays and drag queens at the D.N.C., but some of those republican ladies were given them moes a run for their money. Feather boas, crazy make up, gaudy dresses. Watch out Rue Paul, drag's getting crazy conservative.
-The hilarious video on NBC news replaying W.'s speech in absentia. There were pauses for the audience response, but they just showed him talking and smiling and waiting- without the audience feed. He looked like a Jim Henson Muppet when the audience doesn't get the joke-Dr. Teeth, I'm lookin' at you!
-McCain's crypt keeper mother. 96! Giggawha? How is she standing, talking, breathing, anything? I believe that she is really McCain's sister and they have some type of twin power that will keep both of them alive.......FOREVER! Think about it, he's "72", God help us, if he gets elected he'll be "80" by the time he runs 2 terms(Clearly 8 years is going to be the average stay in office because the American public is to lazy to vote someone out). How many competent 80 people do you know? I feel that the Republican party is voting for the V.P. because homeboy's gonna kick it.
-Doesn't Sarah Palin look like the love child of Tina Fey and Megan Mulally? It's odd, I love Tina, I love Megan........not so much a fan of Palin. Her family is a little too real for me, 5 kids-HELLO!?! help control the pet population, have you Palins spayed or neutered .
-I'm not saying I'm perfect, but McCain, please whiten your teeth.
-Who was that rioter and can we hang out?
-The crowd had way more energy than McCain. My mom, a devout republican, was falling a sleep. I know that's not saying much, but she had invested in listening. By the end of the speech the only thing she could comment on was how soft his voice was. Clearly, good public speaking has never been a concern of the Republican party.
In the next election I'm voting for the Ralph Nadar/Michael Moore ticket.
Let's get down to business; due to the deluge of a single vote, I will be doing a healthy combination of personal, ambiguous, topical, and creative writing to compose my blogs. Thank you to everyone who voted....no seriously it was just one, thanks Krista.
I have been watching the Republican National Convention the last three days, not because I was actually willing to accept what they were going to say, but I wanted to get pissed off and liberal about the 8 shades of ludicrous that would occur. I have complied a list of some of the WTF moments for your reading pleasure.........and more specifically, mine. Sorry Matt Doerr.
-The sea of white on white on navy blue - white hair, white people, navy blue suits. It was like the foam on top of a Welches grape soda. They tried to show any ethnic people that were in the audience, but they were few and far between.
-Crazy hats. Sun hats, baseball caps, cowboy hats, army hats, elephant hats, over-sized top hats. Geez people, you know what they say about people who over-do their personality on the outside........they are compensating for something on the inside- yikes!
-I know there were gays and drag queens at the D.N.C., but some of those republican ladies were given them moes a run for their money. Feather boas, crazy make up, gaudy dresses. Watch out Rue Paul, drag's getting crazy conservative.
-The hilarious video on NBC news replaying W.'s speech in absentia. There were pauses for the audience response, but they just showed him talking and smiling and waiting- without the audience feed. He looked like a Jim Henson Muppet when the audience doesn't get the joke-Dr. Teeth, I'm lookin' at you!
-McCain's crypt keeper mother. 96! Giggawha? How is she standing, talking, breathing, anything? I believe that she is really McCain's sister and they have some type of twin power that will keep both of them alive.......FOREVER! Think about it, he's "72", God help us, if he gets elected he'll be "80" by the time he runs 2 terms(Clearly 8 years is going to be the average stay in office because the American public is to lazy to vote someone out). How many competent 80 people do you know? I feel that the Republican party is voting for the V.P. because homeboy's gonna kick it.
-Doesn't Sarah Palin look like the love child of Tina Fey and Megan Mulally? It's odd, I love Tina, I love Megan........not so much a fan of Palin. Her family is a little too real for me, 5 kids-HELLO!?! help control the pet population, have you Palins spayed or neutered .
-I'm not saying I'm perfect, but McCain, please whiten your teeth.
-Who was that rioter and can we hang out?
-The crowd had way more energy than McCain. My mom, a devout republican, was falling a sleep. I know that's not saying much, but she had invested in listening. By the end of the speech the only thing she could comment on was how soft his voice was. Clearly, good public speaking has never been a concern of the Republican party.
In the next election I'm voting for the Ralph Nadar/Michael Moore ticket.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Gone Crazy, party of one? Gone Crazy, party of one?
Picture it: Pendleton, IN, 2008.......
I just got back from working a lunch shift at Ruby Tuesday (kill me), I take a shower, stretch it out, watch a skipping Oprah on digital TV, and Mom comes home. " WHAT ARE YOU DOING HOME? I THOUGHT YOU WERE WORKING! WHY AREN'T YOU AT WORK?"
"No Mom, I read my schedule wrong. I don't work tonight"
"What, huh, oh, well, I guess that's fine."
Geez lady, bipolar much? It's always like that with her. Dad says she's been going through the change now for the last 15 years. Ba-zing!
The other night, I decided to let my parents watch Enchanted. I say "let" because I like to filter what I expose them to so that their opinion doesn't stray to far from my own. My opinion=good taste. I tried to add little tid bits of movie trivia fun a long the way to enrich the experience for them.
Ex.
"The old men, who dance in this song, were some of the original dancers in the West Side Story movie."
Dad: "Who? Them?"
"No, they aren't old"
Mom: "You mean them?"
"No, their not even dancing."
This continued, but I thought hey, I'm doing them a service. I'm showing them the world. I'm like the Magellan of small town culture. After the Movie was over my dad sat up and said "That was a real good movie. I like that. I could watch that one again." Mom agreed, he then left and went to the bathroom.
The next day we watched The Producers. I don't personally care for this one because they just filmed what was on the stage version, and I could write a novel about why that doesn't work. With the Jew jokes and the gay jokes and all of the schtick, I wasn't as sure that they would like it, as per usual, Mom fell asleep for half of it and still pretended to have an opinion about it. But, after it was over Dad leaned over and said, "Yeah, that was good. I liked that." He then left and went to the bathroom.
I said to Mom, " Wow, I'm really impressed, I didn't think he would like that." With out skipping a beat Mom said, "Well yeah, you know sometimes he's just being polite." HATER!
They just put in Bye, Bye Birdie, I'll tell you how it goes tomorrow.
I just got back from working a lunch shift at Ruby Tuesday (kill me), I take a shower, stretch it out, watch a skipping Oprah on digital TV, and Mom comes home. " WHAT ARE YOU DOING HOME? I THOUGHT YOU WERE WORKING! WHY AREN'T YOU AT WORK?"
"No Mom, I read my schedule wrong. I don't work tonight"
"What, huh, oh, well, I guess that's fine."
Geez lady, bipolar much? It's always like that with her. Dad says she's been going through the change now for the last 15 years. Ba-zing!
The other night, I decided to let my parents watch Enchanted. I say "let" because I like to filter what I expose them to so that their opinion doesn't stray to far from my own. My opinion=good taste. I tried to add little tid bits of movie trivia fun a long the way to enrich the experience for them.
Ex.
"The old men, who dance in this song, were some of the original dancers in the West Side Story movie."
Dad: "Who? Them?"
"No, they aren't old"
Mom: "You mean them?"
"No, their not even dancing."
This continued, but I thought hey, I'm doing them a service. I'm showing them the world. I'm like the Magellan of small town culture. After the Movie was over my dad sat up and said "That was a real good movie. I like that. I could watch that one again." Mom agreed, he then left and went to the bathroom.
The next day we watched The Producers. I don't personally care for this one because they just filmed what was on the stage version, and I could write a novel about why that doesn't work. With the Jew jokes and the gay jokes and all of the schtick, I wasn't as sure that they would like it, as per usual, Mom fell asleep for half of it and still pretended to have an opinion about it. But, after it was over Dad leaned over and said, "Yeah, that was good. I liked that." He then left and went to the bathroom.
I said to Mom, " Wow, I'm really impressed, I didn't think he would like that." With out skipping a beat Mom said, "Well yeah, you know sometimes he's just being polite." HATER!
They just put in Bye, Bye Birdie, I'll tell you how it goes tomorrow.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
The Trouble with Blogging......
Hello all,
As an observer/proclaimer of satire, I have a problem. I like writing funny little chestnuts in my blog about my daily life. This often times encompasses my parents knowing fully that the idea of doing anything else on the Internet rather than checking their email is preposterous. This of course leaves them wide open for announced criticism.
BUT, what about everyone else? As I become a facebook celebrity-seriously! and more mild acquaintances befriend me asking, "Do you have a blog?", "Are you on facebook(leading them to my blog)?" This notoriety posses a ginormous snag.
How am I supposed to write about all the stupid/ridiculous things that happen to me if everyone I know is all up in my blog? I mean encounters with strangers and my parents could fill a robust armoire with stories for years, but what about everything else? There is a a reconciliation afoot and commenting on that can be very juicy. People I don't remember and some I don't like try to "Friend" me on facebook and I guilt "Friend" them, thinking well what can it hurt- oh (!), answer that after 8 pages of awkward "what are you doing now" emails! It is awkward AND hilarious.
So I ask you, oh knowledgeable 5 or less people who read my world famous blog, what's a boy to do?
Please choose and comment:
a. Keep the person life out and delve deep
b. Stop telling people about your blog so you can write about them
c. Let's get personal- real personal-oooooooooooh
d. Tastefully say things like, "I once knew this guy who....." and tell anonymous stories hiding the identities of people.
As an observer/proclaimer of satire, I have a problem. I like writing funny little chestnuts in my blog about my daily life. This often times encompasses my parents knowing fully that the idea of doing anything else on the Internet rather than checking their email is preposterous. This of course leaves them wide open for announced criticism.
BUT, what about everyone else? As I become a facebook celebrity-seriously! and more mild acquaintances befriend me asking, "Do you have a blog?", "Are you on facebook(leading them to my blog)?" This notoriety posses a ginormous snag.
How am I supposed to write about all the stupid/ridiculous things that happen to me if everyone I know is all up in my blog? I mean encounters with strangers and my parents could fill a robust armoire with stories for years, but what about everything else? There is a a reconciliation afoot and commenting on that can be very juicy. People I don't remember and some I don't like try to "Friend" me on facebook and I guilt "Friend" them, thinking well what can it hurt- oh (!), answer that after 8 pages of awkward "what are you doing now" emails! It is awkward AND hilarious.
So I ask you, oh knowledgeable 5 or less people who read my world famous blog, what's a boy to do?
Please choose and comment:
a. Keep the person life out and delve deep
b. Stop telling people about your blog so you can write about them
c. Let's get personal- real personal-oooooooooooh
d. Tastefully say things like, "I once knew this guy who....." and tell anonymous stories hiding the identities of people.
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