If I hear Bruce Springsteen's rendition of Santa Claus Is Coming To Town one more time, I think I might scream.
Also, if I hear the phrase Reason for the Season one more time, a similar response can be expected.
That is all.
Wednesday, December 05, 2007
Thursday, November 01, 2007
Dairy Products...Beware!
An innocent trip to the Decatur beerfest, prompted a protest letter by my gf. She's good at protest letters. Really. Yes, she's been to PETA rallies until she realized that they were a tad on the militant side. She once wrote Rosie O'Donnell protesting leather jacket week (or something similar) on The Rosie O'Donnell Show. Rosie sent her back an autographed picture. We still have it. Needless to say, the girl should have been alive in the 60s.
Back on point, so gf and B were at the beerfest and were sampling a local brew by the name of "Donkey Punch." The guy serving it made some suggestive comment regarding the phrase donkey punch, which they were clueless about. That is until they got home and we googled donkey punch and found out that it is a term for...well...just look it up.
So, CJ is up in arms and send the brewery this letter:
DonkeyPunch. It's not an appropriate name. I thought it was fine and associated it with a high gravity, must feel like you're getting kicked in the head, until I was at the beer fest and a volunteer was serving some of the barley wine to a friend of mine and made an inappropriate joke which tipped us off that perhaps there was another meaning behind the name of your latest. Beer should be fun. I don't think that promoting violence during sex is fun or should even be nodded to as fun even in jest. I'm a long time supporter of Sweetwater brand and love all your brews and I think that you are a staple of Atlanta, but you should consider changing the name of your barley wine to something less offensive. It's easy to get lost in the male dominated world of beer, and lose sight of "the line" but it is there, and I think you have crossed it. I'm very disappointed in the name selection and hope that you will change it and be more careful in the future.
Rock on, sistah. And not to let an opportunity pass me by, I penned the following letter:
Dear Dairy Producers of the World,
Half and Half. Milk and cream. Innocent enough, right? Not so fast, dairy people. I learned from Cops that half and half is a term used by women of the night meaning sex in the missionary position and fellatio. The last thing I want to think of while enhancing my morning beverage is some skank giving a John a BJ, mmmkay?
Some name alternatives might be extra-creamy milk..er, no. How about milky cream….uh, scratch that. Well, coming up with a new name is really your problem.
I appreciate your immediate attention to this matter.
And lest you think that our grievances only relate to beverages, we are planning a campaign against Beanie Weenies in the very near future.
Viva La Revolucion!
Back on point, so gf and B were at the beerfest and were sampling a local brew by the name of "Donkey Punch." The guy serving it made some suggestive comment regarding the phrase donkey punch, which they were clueless about. That is until they got home and we googled donkey punch and found out that it is a term for...well...just look it up.
So, CJ is up in arms and send the brewery this letter:
DonkeyPunch. It's not an appropriate name. I thought it was fine and associated it with a high gravity, must feel like you're getting kicked in the head, until I was at the beer fest and a volunteer was serving some of the barley wine to a friend of mine and made an inappropriate joke which tipped us off that perhaps there was another meaning behind the name of your latest. Beer should be fun. I don't think that promoting violence during sex is fun or should even be nodded to as fun even in jest. I'm a long time supporter of Sweetwater brand and love all your brews and I think that you are a staple of Atlanta, but you should consider changing the name of your barley wine to something less offensive. It's easy to get lost in the male dominated world of beer, and lose sight of "the line" but it is there, and I think you have crossed it. I'm very disappointed in the name selection and hope that you will change it and be more careful in the future.
Rock on, sistah. And not to let an opportunity pass me by, I penned the following letter:
Dear Dairy Producers of the World,
Half and Half. Milk and cream. Innocent enough, right? Not so fast, dairy people. I learned from Cops that half and half is a term used by women of the night meaning sex in the missionary position and fellatio. The last thing I want to think of while enhancing my morning beverage is some skank giving a John a BJ, mmmkay?
Some name alternatives might be extra-creamy milk..er, no. How about milky cream….uh, scratch that. Well, coming up with a new name is really your problem.
I appreciate your immediate attention to this matter.
And lest you think that our grievances only relate to beverages, we are planning a campaign against Beanie Weenies in the very near future.
Viva La Revolucion!
Friday, October 19, 2007
who knew
i am obsessed with pink.
and not the color.
i go through phases where i fixate on a song and play it...non-stop. as in put it on repeat and leave it on all day. i did that a couple of weeks ago with pink's "who knew" and kanye west's "stronger." i listened to those 2 songs continuously all day long. and i never got tired of them. it's weird.
don't you hate it when you love a song and can't sing it? like physically can't hit the notes. i hate that. i wish i had pink's voice...all rhaspy and such. once after i had the flu, my voice came close. too bad it didn't stick.
i also like pink because when she sings, she gestures the words. like when she sings when someone said three years from now, she holds up 3 fingers. when she sings, i'd stand up and punch them out, she balls up a fist. i do that. on 285. people think i'm flipping them off probably. but i'm not. i'm singing with my fingers.
just like pink.
who knew?
and not the color.
i go through phases where i fixate on a song and play it...non-stop. as in put it on repeat and leave it on all day. i did that a couple of weeks ago with pink's "who knew" and kanye west's "stronger." i listened to those 2 songs continuously all day long. and i never got tired of them. it's weird.
don't you hate it when you love a song and can't sing it? like physically can't hit the notes. i hate that. i wish i had pink's voice...all rhaspy and such. once after i had the flu, my voice came close. too bad it didn't stick.
i also like pink because when she sings, she gestures the words. like when she sings when someone said three years from now, she holds up 3 fingers. when she sings, i'd stand up and punch them out, she balls up a fist. i do that. on 285. people think i'm flipping them off probably. but i'm not. i'm singing with my fingers.
just like pink.
who knew?
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Don't call me...
...between the hours of 9:00 and 10:00 p.m. EDT, for I will be glued to the TV watching the Season Premiere of one Grey's Anatomy.
CJ is not a Grey's fan, so she has been given strict instructions that she cannot talk or ask questions during the show. She is considering vacating the premises. Smart girl.
Monday, September 24, 2007
Typical Saturday Night
I don't care if he [R. Kelly] is a pedophile, that song is awesome!
It's a brown out!
B likes short pants!
Do your pants dance, B! (B's response: They're jeans not pants!)
It's a little wet.
It starts with an A. Google jodie + foster + rape.
When I'm in an elevator by myself, sometimes I do a karate kick like this.
It's a bi-plane! ::giggle, giggle::
You have your mouth open in every picture.
No double-chin!
Who's sober enough to drive to Dairy Queen? ::silence::
It's a brown out!
B likes short pants!
Do your pants dance, B! (B's response: They're jeans not pants!)
It's a little wet.
It starts with an A. Google jodie + foster + rape.
When I'm in an elevator by myself, sometimes I do a karate kick like this.
It's a bi-plane! ::giggle, giggle::
You have your mouth open in every picture.
No double-chin!
Who's sober enough to drive to Dairy Queen? ::silence::
Friday, September 21, 2007
Be the person your Mom thinks you are...
This is a letter my Mom wrote to Chris' grandmother on finding out that we weren't just "roommates."
September 19, 2007
Dear Ruth and Connie,
Ruth, I am sorry that I had to cut our conversation short on Friday. I had that early morning appointment with my doctor. My thyroid was “out of whack” and he had upped my medication to adjust it. He said it was working OK and just stay on the same dosage of synthyroid.
I hope your inner ear trouble is not bothering you too much this week. Gail Moss, who used to live next door to me, had the same trouble. I saw how she suffered with it. Anyway, I hope you are feeling better and are able to enjoy this beautiful week of fall-ish weather. I certainly have enjoyed it. I am trying to catch up with yard work (if there is such a thing). It was just too hot back in August to work much outside.
I have found the catalogue that I told you about and am enclosing it. I marked the page the dog beds started on with a paper clip. There are so many things in those catalogues that I would like to have, but you can get carried away when it comes to buying things for your pets, can’t you? It is like buying for your kids, I think.
I had been intending to write to you since Jennifer told me that you were aware of her and Chris’s relationship. Jennifer called me that night that you all spoke to each other. She and Chris were both relieved and happy about it. I always told Chris that I believed you knew about it. It does make it so much more comfortable for the whole family to know, so you can relax and not have to watch every word you say, afraid you will say the wrong thing.
Connie and I have talked before about it and how we dealt with it. For me, as you probably know, our oldest daughter, Diana is in a relationship with a girl. I should say, woman, as they are grown women. Diana and Shelly have been together for almost ten years now. Shelly is a wonderful young woman. She is a great teacher of the eighth grade over in GA. We love her as one of our own , as we do Chris.
I would have liked for their lives to have been easier, but I accept their choices. I feel they are born into this life the way they are. I don’t believe it is a choice they have. I love all of my children and just want them to be happy. I couldn’t be prouder of our little family. They are all good human beings and bring a lot of love and happiness to us.
I would have liked to have had more grandchildren, as Connie told me that was one of the things she felt the loss of. We have one grandson, Alex. He is the light in our lives. But, I don’t dwell on what I don’t have, and feel grateful for what I do.
I had told Connie what a wonderful young person Chris is. I will tell you that she is so sweet and we love her very much. She is so talented and smart. We are so proud of her in all she has accomplished. You have a special young lady in her as your daughter and granddaughter. Gordon and I marvel at what they have been able to accomplish with buying their home and making such good decisions in all of their business matters. They are two very grounded young people.
I hope you will consider us part of your extended family and will call on us if you need us. We are here for you all if you need us for anything.
I love your place over there and hope to come and see you all again. Maybe one weekend when Jen and Chris are over there, we can drop by. You all take care.
Love,
Roselie
And before you ask, yes, I do know how lucky I am.
September 19, 2007
Dear Ruth and Connie,
Ruth, I am sorry that I had to cut our conversation short on Friday. I had that early morning appointment with my doctor. My thyroid was “out of whack” and he had upped my medication to adjust it. He said it was working OK and just stay on the same dosage of synthyroid.
I hope your inner ear trouble is not bothering you too much this week. Gail Moss, who used to live next door to me, had the same trouble. I saw how she suffered with it. Anyway, I hope you are feeling better and are able to enjoy this beautiful week of fall-ish weather. I certainly have enjoyed it. I am trying to catch up with yard work (if there is such a thing). It was just too hot back in August to work much outside.
I have found the catalogue that I told you about and am enclosing it. I marked the page the dog beds started on with a paper clip. There are so many things in those catalogues that I would like to have, but you can get carried away when it comes to buying things for your pets, can’t you? It is like buying for your kids, I think.
I had been intending to write to you since Jennifer told me that you were aware of her and Chris’s relationship. Jennifer called me that night that you all spoke to each other. She and Chris were both relieved and happy about it. I always told Chris that I believed you knew about it. It does make it so much more comfortable for the whole family to know, so you can relax and not have to watch every word you say, afraid you will say the wrong thing.
Connie and I have talked before about it and how we dealt with it. For me, as you probably know, our oldest daughter, Diana is in a relationship with a girl. I should say, woman, as they are grown women. Diana and Shelly have been together for almost ten years now. Shelly is a wonderful young woman. She is a great teacher of the eighth grade over in GA. We love her as one of our own , as we do Chris.
I would have liked for their lives to have been easier, but I accept their choices. I feel they are born into this life the way they are. I don’t believe it is a choice they have. I love all of my children and just want them to be happy. I couldn’t be prouder of our little family. They are all good human beings and bring a lot of love and happiness to us.
I would have liked to have had more grandchildren, as Connie told me that was one of the things she felt the loss of. We have one grandson, Alex. He is the light in our lives. But, I don’t dwell on what I don’t have, and feel grateful for what I do.
I had told Connie what a wonderful young person Chris is. I will tell you that she is so sweet and we love her very much. She is so talented and smart. We are so proud of her in all she has accomplished. You have a special young lady in her as your daughter and granddaughter. Gordon and I marvel at what they have been able to accomplish with buying their home and making such good decisions in all of their business matters. They are two very grounded young people.
I hope you will consider us part of your extended family and will call on us if you need us. We are here for you all if you need us for anything.
I love your place over there and hope to come and see you all again. Maybe one weekend when Jen and Chris are over there, we can drop by. You all take care.
Love,
Roselie
And before you ask, yes, I do know how lucky I am.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
What about your friends...
1 Hot Dog, 1 Slice of Cheese Pizza, 1 Pack of Scalding Hot Boiled Peanuts, 1 Pack of Cracker Jack, 1 Coke, and 2 Beers: $315.97
A night at the ballpark making inappropriate "nut" jokes, screaming at 18-year old girls for t-shirts we had no chance of getting, making fun of barbie doll twins, rooting on the drill, hoping for once they put the kiss-cam on a lesbian couple, explaining to B the phenonmenon of K-mart feet, wincing as CJ does her pterodactyl call, and singing The Brady Bunch theme song in the worst neighborhood in Atlanta with three of my favorite people on the planet: priceless.
A night at the ballpark making inappropriate "nut" jokes, screaming at 18-year old girls for t-shirts we had no chance of getting, making fun of barbie doll twins, rooting on the drill, hoping for once they put the kiss-cam on a lesbian couple, explaining to B the phenonmenon of K-mart feet, wincing as CJ does her pterodactyl call, and singing The Brady Bunch theme song in the worst neighborhood in Atlanta with three of my favorite people on the planet: priceless.
Monday, September 17, 2007
The Bux
That's my nickname for Starbucks. The depth of my trendiness is endless. If you remember, I blogged a couple of weeks ago about how I was all intimidated about ordering at Starbucks. See, I was using fast food ordering as my template....size, drink of choice, and extras. As examples:
- large coke with extra ice
- medium orange drink with no ice
- small sweet tea with lemon
As an aside, I don't understand why anyone would order that orange drink that's been recycling in that aqarium-type contraption since 1978, but I'm not one to judge.
Back to my point, Starbucks doesn't follow this standard way of ordering and I found myself feeling all self-conscious when ready to order my favorite beverage. Chris even brought me a pamphlet from Starbucks instructing patrons on how to order. Well, I studied this carefully and practiced over and over again while behind the lead car in the drive-thru. Then the chocolate brown Lexus pulled away and I advanced. My palms got all sweaty and my mouth dried slightly as the speaker crackled to life:
It's a great day at Starbucks, what can I start for you this morning?
For a split second, I panicked. I had the urge to bolt, but that would have involved rolling over the aforementioned Lexus, Bigfoot-style. Certainly an option, but not necessarily practical. Then I took a deep breath, centered myself, closed my eyes and out it came:
Iced tall nonfat mocha
Confetti fell from the sky, trumpets bleated, and the Starbucks baristas hoisted me on their shoulders in an impromtu celebration of my accomplishment. And I can say with all honesty, it was the best damn iced tall nonfat mocha I've ever had.
It really is the simple things in life, people.
Friday, September 14, 2007
It's the little things, really...
SANDY SPRINGS, Ga. -- The discovery of several suspicious items Friday morning forced the evacuation of a post office in Sandy Springs. Police also shut down part of Glenridge Drive while they checked out the items. A visitor to the post office found 10 to 15 mason jars filled with an unknown, brown liquid, a picture of President Bush, a homeland security pamphlet and a stuffed Santa Claus doll. The Cobb County Bomb Squard was called in. They used a robot to remove the doll from the scene. Police said they do not believe the doll is a threat. Officers are now checking out the jars of liquid to see if they are dangerous. The area is still shut down while the investigation continues.God help me, but this cracks me up. The image alone of poor Santa in the grasps of that bomb-sniffing robot...it's comedy gold, people, and it's what I live for.
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
Pep Talk
I will swim today.
I will swim today.
I will swim today.
Who cares if I look like an alien in my swim cap and goggles?
Who cares if I have to sit in the hot tub with large, often hairy, men while waiting on a lane to open up?
Who cares that I can really only make it 3/4 of the way across the pool before collapsing with exhaustion?
I will swim today.
I will swim today.
Who cares if I look like an alien in my swim cap and goggles?
Who cares if I have to sit in the hot tub with large, often hairy, men while waiting on a lane to open up?Who cares that I can really only make it 3/4 of the way across the pool before collapsing with exhaustion?
Who cares that I'm the only one wearing orange floaties on my arms? (Not really, silly people!)
Right?
I will swim today.
I will swim today.
I will swim today.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
80's
Heaven Help Me
This was my jam back in the day! It's Deon Estus, who was bassist for Wham! and later George Michael (who I LOVED when I was a teenager. I'm talking about posters on the wall, people!) In fact, that's George singing background. Deon decided to put out a solo record and unless I am mistaken, this was it's one hit. I remember I recorded this song off of the radio (WZYP in Huntsville, AL). They introduced it as a new George Michael song. I'm sure Deon would have loved that.
Sing it with me...
Heaven help me talk to strangers
Heaven help me over you
I can seem to take these changes
Everything reminds my heart of you
I also love the fact that this video is from Night Tracks. Do you remember that show?? I think it was on TBS on Friday nights. Yep, here 'tis: Night Tracks. I freaking love the internet. Night Tracks is not to be confused with Friday Night Videos which was on ABC. MTV put them both out of business.
Oh, hold the damn phone people.
How Can I Fall
Breathe, 1988. Need I say more?
This video is total late 80's. Ah, another summer day in the city. Some kind of block festival. Stick ball. Girl in hat with puppy (let's call her Susan) flirts with cute stick-ball batter (Rick). Big-haired friend of girl (Gina) is with jerk stick-ball pitcher (Vinnie...who looks strangely like Scott Stapp from Creed). Vinnie gets mad because Rick gets a home run off of one of his pitches. But really Vinnie, you throw like a girl. Vinnie takes his attitude out on Gina, who tries to slap him. Vinnie has had it! He turns over a nearby table and storms off! Of course the block party gets rained out. But Susan and Rick don't care. They dance in the rain. Meanwhile, Vinnie and Gina pout separately. Moral of the story: It's just stickball, for chrissakes.
Check out the lead singer's (Gayer McHomosexual) tight Levi's pulled up to his navel and that tapestry vest! I think I had that very outfit.
This was my jam back in the day! It's Deon Estus, who was bassist for Wham! and later George Michael (who I LOVED when I was a teenager. I'm talking about posters on the wall, people!) In fact, that's George singing background. Deon decided to put out a solo record and unless I am mistaken, this was it's one hit. I remember I recorded this song off of the radio (WZYP in Huntsville, AL). They introduced it as a new George Michael song. I'm sure Deon would have loved that.
Sing it with me...
Heaven help me talk to strangers
Heaven help me over you
I can seem to take these changes
Everything reminds my heart of you
I also love the fact that this video is from Night Tracks. Do you remember that show?? I think it was on TBS on Friday nights. Yep, here 'tis: Night Tracks. I freaking love the internet. Night Tracks is not to be confused with Friday Night Videos which was on ABC. MTV put them both out of business.
Oh, hold the damn phone people.
How Can I Fall
Breathe, 1988. Need I say more?
This video is total late 80's. Ah, another summer day in the city. Some kind of block festival. Stick ball. Girl in hat with puppy (let's call her Susan) flirts with cute stick-ball batter (Rick). Big-haired friend of girl (Gina) is with jerk stick-ball pitcher (Vinnie...who looks strangely like Scott Stapp from Creed). Vinnie gets mad because Rick gets a home run off of one of his pitches. But really Vinnie, you throw like a girl. Vinnie takes his attitude out on Gina, who tries to slap him. Vinnie has had it! He turns over a nearby table and storms off! Of course the block party gets rained out. But Susan and Rick don't care. They dance in the rain. Meanwhile, Vinnie and Gina pout separately. Moral of the story: It's just stickball, for chrissakes.
Check out the lead singer's (Gayer McHomosexual) tight Levi's pulled up to his navel and that tapestry vest! I think I had that very outfit.
No boxes for you!
So, I've been surronded by laptops all week. Blue screens of death, overrheating, bad hard drives...you name it, I've seen it. Yesterday, I was working on 4 laptops at once. I had them spread out all over my office and I kept bouncing back and forth, updating, installing, drop kicking. You know, the usual stuff.Important point: these laptops were sent to me by employees that work either out of their homes or other branches. So, for each laptop there was a box that each laptop was sent to me in. These aren't any old boxes. They are specially outfitted with preformed styrofoam packaging that protects each precious machine. And I had 4 of them neatly stacked in front of my desk. So, I walk in this morning and noticed that my office looked really neat. Peculiarly so. And I recall yesterday afternoon thinking, "The first thing I'm going to do in the morning is clean this place up!" Then it hit me...my garbage can is empty...housekeeping came! Wait, where are my laptop boxes? That mother-effer threw them away!!! How can you throw away someone's laptop boxes!!! They weren't near the garbage can!!! You don't throw away anything unless it's in or near the garbage can. And if it's near the garbage can, don't throw it away unless it has 'GARBAGE' written on it. Now, I'm going to have to go to Office Depot and buy boxes and bubble wrap so that I can send these back out again!
Why me?
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Starbucks..Emphasis on the 'bucks"
$4 for a Grande Iced Mocha? Highway robbery!
And why is it that they make you feel stupid when you order something? I always say:
1 grande iced mocha with whipped cream
And they repeat it back to me, but never in the same order. I've tried to figure it out and order it correctly the next time, but they always just snicker and repeat it back to me a different way. It's like their speaking in snobby highly caffeinated tongues. They say something crazy like:
Mocha grande 1 iced whip!
They don't even say "whipped cream"...it's whip. They are too cool to fully pronounce words.
Bastards.
But I'm halfway through this grande iced mocha (no whip!), and I'm feeling the love. These things should be illegal 'cause I feel like could take on the world right now. Who am I kidding, give me 15 minutes, and I'll crash and be curled up in a fetal position on my desk.
And why is it that they make you feel stupid when you order something? I always say:
1 grande iced mocha with whipped cream
And they repeat it back to me, but never in the same order. I've tried to figure it out and order it correctly the next time, but they always just snicker and repeat it back to me a different way. It's like their speaking in snobby highly caffeinated tongues. They say something crazy like:
Mocha grande 1 iced whip!
They don't even say "whipped cream"...it's whip. They are too cool to fully pronounce words.
Bastards.
But I'm halfway through this grande iced mocha (no whip!), and I'm feeling the love. These things should be illegal 'cause I feel like could take on the world right now. Who am I kidding, give me 15 minutes, and I'll crash and be curled up in a fetal position on my desk.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
It's A Hurricane...ooh Flossie Flossie
Hurricane Flossie skirted just south of Hawaii last night. This is only blog worthy to me because of the name...Flossie. Everytime I hear it, I think of that Fergie song, Glamorous. No, not the one where she's comparing her lover to her binky, the one that goes like this:We flyin' first class
Up in the sky
Poppin' champagne
Livin' my life
In the fast lane
But I won't change
For the glamorous
Ooh, the flossy flossy
For those of your who are urban-slang challenged, flossy means flashy or showy. So, you can see where I make the connection. What can we expect next? Tropical Storm FoShizzleMyNizzle? Typhoon BlingBling?
Monday, August 13, 2007
fast food rant
If you know anything about me and my love for the efficiency of fast food...separate orders are a cardinal sin. I effing hate separate orders!!!! If you and your office mates decide to send someone out for McDonald's, total your order, and divide that shit, people. Unless Tammy, the receptionist with the eating disorder, goes crazy with the 2 apple pies for $1, and gets 14, you're not going to be out a whole lot of cash. And if there is just no way around it and separate orders are a must (as in my case), take that shit inside. DO NOT DO SEPARATE ORDERS AT THE DRIVE THRU!! The drive thru is for, "I'll have a #1 with a coke." Period. Next! And no elaborate special orders in the drive thru either. I can handle no pickles. But people get crazy.
Moron: I want a #1 except I don't want onion, tomato, cheese, or meat. Wait, I do want meat but I want the quarter pound patty, not the regular patty. And I don't want salt on my fries. And I want that value-sized, but not the drink. I want a small drink. Orange drink with no ice.
Guess what, sister? YOU DON'T WANT A #1. WHAT YOU ORDERED SHOWS NO RESEMBLANCE TO A #1. YOU JUST INVENTED A NEW COMBO FOR CRACK HEADS...AND TAKE THAT SHIT INSIDE!
And I understand that our fast food workers (God Bless 'em) are not always 100% accurate. I understand the need to check an order. But for the love of all things holy in this great land of ours, keep your self parked and check your order so that if something is missing, you can address the issue promptly. They will probably have you pull around to the front. It's easy! DO NOT PULL HALFWAY OUT OF THE DRIVE THRU LANE TO DISCOVER THAT THEY FORGOT YOUR EXTRA TARTAR SAUCE AND THEN YELL, 'HEY, YOU FORGOT MY TARTAR SAUCE!' I AM ON MY LUNCHBREAK, AND I DRIVE A JEEP GRAND CHEROKEE! THIS THING COULD DIE ANY MINUTE! YOU ARE HINDERING ME FROM GETTING MY LUNCH IN A TIMELY MANNER! TAKE THAT SHIT INSIDE!
I'm so not lovin' it.
Moron: I want a #1 except I don't want onion, tomato, cheese, or meat. Wait, I do want meat but I want the quarter pound patty, not the regular patty. And I don't want salt on my fries. And I want that value-sized, but not the drink. I want a small drink. Orange drink with no ice.
Guess what, sister? YOU DON'T WANT A #1. WHAT YOU ORDERED SHOWS NO RESEMBLANCE TO A #1. YOU JUST INVENTED A NEW COMBO FOR CRACK HEADS...AND TAKE THAT SHIT INSIDE!
And I understand that our fast food workers (God Bless 'em) are not always 100% accurate. I understand the need to check an order. But for the love of all things holy in this great land of ours, keep your self parked and check your order so that if something is missing, you can address the issue promptly. They will probably have you pull around to the front. It's easy! DO NOT PULL HALFWAY OUT OF THE DRIVE THRU LANE TO DISCOVER THAT THEY FORGOT YOUR EXTRA TARTAR SAUCE AND THEN YELL, 'HEY, YOU FORGOT MY TARTAR SAUCE!' I AM ON MY LUNCHBREAK, AND I DRIVE A JEEP GRAND CHEROKEE! THIS THING COULD DIE ANY MINUTE! YOU ARE HINDERING ME FROM GETTING MY LUNCH IN A TIMELY MANNER! TAKE THAT SHIT INSIDE!
I'm so not lovin' it.
Wednesday, August 01, 2007
1 Degree of Separation
I'm surrounded by the famous folk. Here's the skinny:
They are filming a movie across the street from our house. Making good use of that abandoned gas station by turning it into a redneck-y liquor store. I'm sure our property value with skyrocket when this gem comes out! Sarcasm aside, this movie stars:
Leann Rimes! And can I just say, "Dayyyuuuuuuummmm, Leann grew up!" But wait, there's more. Also starring in this blockbuster:
Dylan...err, I mean Luke Perry! Bitch please, don't act like you didn't watch 90210.
The Avondale Estates python! I know what you're thinking, but it's only a matter of time before that snake its popping it's head out of my toilet.
They are filming a movie across the street from our house. Making good use of that abandoned gas station by turning it into a redneck-y liquor store. I'm sure our property value with skyrocket when this gem comes out! Sarcasm aside, this movie stars:
Leann Rimes! And can I just say, "Dayyyuuuuuuummmm, Leann grew up!" But wait, there's more. Also starring in this blockbuster:Dylan...err, I mean Luke Perry! Bitch please, don't act like you didn't watch 90210.And if the movie stars right outside my house aren't enough, last night at a local Decatur coffee shop, Chris and I spotted none other than:
Chuck Roberts from CNN Headline News! Ok, so I guess you kind of have to a news geek to know who he is. I kept staring at him knowing he was "somebody." He was on his laptop surely working on a breaking news story. Probably on my final famous connection:
The Avondale Estates python! I know what you're thinking, but it's only a matter of time before that snake its popping it's head out of my toilet.
Monday, July 30, 2007
Snakes & Gas Grills
Yeah, I know it's been awhile, but hey...the magic comes when the magic comes, people. And oh, did the magic come this weekend.
Backyard Fun or the Hand of the Devil? You decide!
So first, I almost killed my girlfriend with a gas grill. We were grilling out Sunday night making one of Rachael Ray's 30 minute meals from Episode 1501 titled Sounds Appetizing. The night before, the grill got wet, so when I went to fire it up Sunday, it was a no go. I tried to light it several times with the igniter button...nothing. I kept turning the gas off so that it wouldn't build up, when out walks Chris.
Chris: What's going on?
Me: I can't get the grill to light.
Chris: I'll be right back.
She comes back with a book of matches. Let me just say...gas scares me. I don't like it. Yes, it's more convenient that charcoal, but I don't like it. We have a gas stove in our house. Again, I don't like it. So, I said, "you need to use this little wand thingy." It's a metal rod attached to the grill that you can put the match on so that you are standing AT A DISTANCE when you put the lit flame near the flammable gas. Either she didn't hear me or didn't care. Because I turned on the gas, she lit a match, and I begin to form the thought...this isn't such a good idea...when WOOOOOOOOOOOF! Fireball engulfs Chris. I turn away, then collect myself and run up to her repeating the frantic, "Are you ok, Are you ok?" only to see the hair from her arm, eyelashes, and top of her head have been singed. We're not talking Michael Jackson Pepsi commercial circa 1984, but it was scary nonetheless. I blame myself because I know better than to do that! Anxiety breeds extreme safety, people. To avoid such tragedies in the future, I am currently looking on Ebay to find a fire-proof suit for our next stint at outdoor grilling.
Second, as I type this, there is a 75-80% chance that there's a 7 foot python hanging out in our crawl space. And I'm sure he isn't this cute...
Last night I was watching the evening news, when they teased a story about a 7 foot boa constrictor spotted in a local Atlanta neighborhood. Ha ha, I thought, sucks to be you! So, I stick around to hear the rest of the story. The polished news lady says, "There is a 7 foot boa constrictor on the loose in Avondale Estates." My ears perk because Avondale Estates is not that far from us. So apparently, the snake is approximately 7 feet long and as big around as a thigh...not a chicken thigh, but like a burly man thigh. They were interviewing kids asking what they would do if they saw this snake. Most said they would run and scream, but you gotta love the one boy who said he would smack it in the head with a shovel. I joked with Chris that I thought we were okay unless the snake found it's way to Memorial and hung a right. Ha Ha...look at me, I'm witty. Well, today, I started thinking about Mr. Boa Constrictor, so I went to ajc.com and started reading:
Avondale's breakaway boa constrictor might not be a boa after all. The sneaky snake, spotted in the DeKalb County town last week, is more likely to be a Burmese python, one expert says.
Comforting, really.
[Mr. Python] was seen in a wooded area off Dartmouth Road near Forrest Hills Elementary School. Three workers searched a several acre-sized area for about three hours Friday, but turned up nothing.
Wait, did that say Forrest Hills Elementary? We live in Forrest Hills. I did a frantic google map search, and Forrest Hills Elementary is a whopping .8 miles from our house. Some reverse directions reveal that all Mr. Python would have to do is head south on Forrest Blvd. for 121 ft, Turn Right and proceed on N. Carter Road for .7 miles, and make another right onto Columbia Drive for .1 miles before arriving at his destination AKA our house. And if he takes MARTA, we're screwed.
Wait, did that say Forrest Hills Elementary? We live in Forrest Hills. I did a frantic google map search, and Forrest Hills Elementary is a whopping .8 miles from our house. Some reverse directions reveal that all Mr. Python would have to do is head south on Forrest Blvd. for 121 ft, Turn Right and proceed on N. Carter Road for .7 miles, and make another right onto Columbia Drive for .1 miles before arriving at his destination AKA our house. And if he takes MARTA, we're screwed.
Monday, June 18, 2007
Ramble
It's 10:39 a.m. on a Monday morning, and I'm high. It's not what you think, people. I'm no druggie. I'm high because I took a Xanax last night to ensure that I got a good night's sleep, and it kicked my ass. It all stems from the fact that my doctor wrote the prescription wrong. Instead of .05 mg, I got .5 mg. For those of you that are decimally challenged: .5 is bigger than .05. So, I popped this magic pill around 10:30 p.m. The last thing I remember was lying on Chris' shoulder watching her do a word search puzzle. I'm searching for Kissimmee (the theme was cities that begin with K). And can I just say that there should be a law agains words being both diagonal and backwards. That makes my head hurt, mmkay? The next thing I know it's 3 a.m., and I'm waking up from a nightmare involving lost shoes, a car chase, and bitch slapping someone's mama. Not that the dream is all that strange for me. My dreams are weird, drugs or no drugs. Oh, you would like to hear the details? Certainly!
It all starts with my friends B & C. Although, B is not B, she's one of my friends from high school, Lara. (People from high school regularly make appearances in my dreams.) So, really it's Lara and C. C really is C, by the way. So, it starts out with C and I going to B's (but really Lara's) parents house. For some reason, my shoes are there, and I need to get them. It was as if I spent the night there and left my shoes. So, I go in the house and I can't find my shoes. I'm asking her parents where they are, but they aren't helpful at all. The Dad finally says, "We hid them because you're a Republican." So, I tell C, "Let's get out of here." We get in C's car which is an old convertible something. We start backing out of the driveway, and the Dad comes out of the house and starts yelling at us not to come back. I turn around and yell, "Fuck off, you SOB!" Then, the Mom and Dad jump in a green truck and start chasing us. I tell C, "Step on it!" She starts giggling nervously and hits the gas which takes us up to a whopping 25 mph. I pull out my cell phone and try to dial 911, but the call won't go through. (This is another recurring theme in my dreams...problems dialing phones in emergency situations). I keep telling C that she needs to go faster, but that's as fast as it gets. We decide to ditch the convertible and try to escape on foot. All of a sudden we're at the top of a mountain looking down on the valley below, and I say, "Look, there's Taco Mac...we're getting close." About that time we run into a ballroom type place, and as I'm about to make my way out the back door, the Mom grabs me and says something that I can't hear or can't understand. I say, "I just want my shoes!" and I haul off and bitch slap her right in the face. Then I wake up.
So, I'm lying there trying to figure out what the hell dream means, and I think I hear a noise. Any time I hear a noise in the middle of the night, I do an animal check. If all the animals are in the room, then I investigate further. If Jack is missing, I assume that he's getting into something, and I fall back asleep. Chris always tries to convince me that any noise I hear is the refrigerator. Car horn, siren, glass breaking...it's the refirgerator. Anyhow, I do an animal check, and all the animals are in the room fast asleep. I decide to get up and investigate. I usually grab a baseball bat that I keep by me bed, but I am too out of it to prepare. I am literally drunk at this point, so I am stumbling around the house trying to be quiet so as to not wake Chris up or let the would-be burgular know that I'm on to him. A room by room search reveals no burgular, but I do stand at the front door trying to figure out who the extra car across the street belongs to. It's a gay boy couple who we have never talked to. We used to see them both alot, but then slowly we only started seeing the one. We assumed that they broke up, because we stopped seeing the silver sedan in the driveway. But then we noticed that the silver sedan was pulled around in back. AHA, we thought. Did the other guy kill him? Then this green truck (OMG...green truck, like from my dream!!) starts showing up on a pretty regular basis, but never parks in the driveway always on the street. Here's what I think, I think the silver sedan gay boy is sick and his partner is taking care of him, but he needs a little something something, so that's where green truck boy comes in, but he feels so guilty carrying on this illicit affair that he refuses to park in the driveway. So, I'm standing at the door last night trying to figure out who the marroon sedan is parked behind the green truck on the street and how that fits into my story. I decide that the gay boy is kinky and is having a threesome with green truck and maroon sedan while poor silver sedan lies in a hospital bed in the den watching QVC. Bastard.
By this time, I'm kind of awake so I turn on the TV and watch Modern Marvels: Welding on the History Channel. I get half way through and pass out again.
So, here I am having sucked down 3/4 of a large sweet tea, and I am still high. My boss came in here earlier and said, "Jeff E. called for you Friday afternoon. He can't get on the internet." I responded with, "Awww...that's too bad for Jeff." Then I sobered up really quick with, "I'll give him a call."
I'm a hop skip and a jump from shaving my head and going to rehab, people. Just say no.
It all starts with my friends B & C. Although, B is not B, she's one of my friends from high school, Lara. (People from high school regularly make appearances in my dreams.) So, really it's Lara and C. C really is C, by the way. So, it starts out with C and I going to B's (but really Lara's) parents house. For some reason, my shoes are there, and I need to get them. It was as if I spent the night there and left my shoes. So, I go in the house and I can't find my shoes. I'm asking her parents where they are, but they aren't helpful at all. The Dad finally says, "We hid them because you're a Republican." So, I tell C, "Let's get out of here." We get in C's car which is an old convertible something. We start backing out of the driveway, and the Dad comes out of the house and starts yelling at us not to come back. I turn around and yell, "Fuck off, you SOB!" Then, the Mom and Dad jump in a green truck and start chasing us. I tell C, "Step on it!" She starts giggling nervously and hits the gas which takes us up to a whopping 25 mph. I pull out my cell phone and try to dial 911, but the call won't go through. (This is another recurring theme in my dreams...problems dialing phones in emergency situations). I keep telling C that she needs to go faster, but that's as fast as it gets. We decide to ditch the convertible and try to escape on foot. All of a sudden we're at the top of a mountain looking down on the valley below, and I say, "Look, there's Taco Mac...we're getting close." About that time we run into a ballroom type place, and as I'm about to make my way out the back door, the Mom grabs me and says something that I can't hear or can't understand. I say, "I just want my shoes!" and I haul off and bitch slap her right in the face. Then I wake up.
So, I'm lying there trying to figure out what the hell dream means, and I think I hear a noise. Any time I hear a noise in the middle of the night, I do an animal check. If all the animals are in the room, then I investigate further. If Jack is missing, I assume that he's getting into something, and I fall back asleep. Chris always tries to convince me that any noise I hear is the refrigerator. Car horn, siren, glass breaking...it's the refirgerator. Anyhow, I do an animal check, and all the animals are in the room fast asleep. I decide to get up and investigate. I usually grab a baseball bat that I keep by me bed, but I am too out of it to prepare. I am literally drunk at this point, so I am stumbling around the house trying to be quiet so as to not wake Chris up or let the would-be burgular know that I'm on to him. A room by room search reveals no burgular, but I do stand at the front door trying to figure out who the extra car across the street belongs to. It's a gay boy couple who we have never talked to. We used to see them both alot, but then slowly we only started seeing the one. We assumed that they broke up, because we stopped seeing the silver sedan in the driveway. But then we noticed that the silver sedan was pulled around in back. AHA, we thought. Did the other guy kill him? Then this green truck (OMG...green truck, like from my dream!!) starts showing up on a pretty regular basis, but never parks in the driveway always on the street. Here's what I think, I think the silver sedan gay boy is sick and his partner is taking care of him, but he needs a little something something, so that's where green truck boy comes in, but he feels so guilty carrying on this illicit affair that he refuses to park in the driveway. So, I'm standing at the door last night trying to figure out who the marroon sedan is parked behind the green truck on the street and how that fits into my story. I decide that the gay boy is kinky and is having a threesome with green truck and maroon sedan while poor silver sedan lies in a hospital bed in the den watching QVC. Bastard.
By this time, I'm kind of awake so I turn on the TV and watch Modern Marvels: Welding on the History Channel. I get half way through and pass out again.
So, here I am having sucked down 3/4 of a large sweet tea, and I am still high. My boss came in here earlier and said, "Jeff E. called for you Friday afternoon. He can't get on the internet." I responded with, "Awww...that's too bad for Jeff." Then I sobered up really quick with, "I'll give him a call."
I'm a hop skip and a jump from shaving my head and going to rehab, people. Just say no.
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