Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Monday, October 29, 2007
Seriously? Aside from the fact that this is horribly degrading, it's also incredibly irritating. This big breasted blonde bounces up and down behind a fence, spreading her legs as only cartoon women can manage, over and over and over again. I'm trying to look up a word in an online dictionary and this is the eye sore advertising distraction I have to suffer? Soak the girl for a ringtone? WTF?
Labels: ad nauseam
Friday, October 26, 2007
WTHIWWY - A Letter To The Celebrities, V
Dear Train-Wreck Celebrities Who Think They're Above The Law:
We get it. You're rich. You're (or think you're) gorgeous. You live fast. You.Are.A.Party.Animal.
How about you leave celebreality for five minutes, just five minutes, and see what it's like in the real world? Where driving drunk lands you in real jail, drug addiction isn't an convenient excuse for bad behavior and having children means taking care of someone other than yourself.
Be human. Do a dish or something. God.
Labels: what the hell is wrong with you?
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Things I May Tell My Potential Future Children
Flu shots hurt because you're filling your arm with poison. But it's a good hurt. I promise.
Labels: potential future children
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Is This Thing On?
Letsee....7 unknown things...oh the pressure...
I find it ha'larious that I can now say things like, "when I was a little girl, we actually had to crack a book! There was no such thing as the interwebs to plagiarize from!"
During the blackout of 2003 I hitched a ride across the river with 2 strangers at the mouth of the lincoln tunnel. I left a really cool Battlestar Galactica calendar in the back seat by accident.
After every movie with a little girl in it that I saw when I was a preteen, I thought "I totally could've played that part better," as I left the theater.
After every movie with a hapabukbuk looking woman in it that I see, I think "I totally could've played that part better," as I leave the theater. Mostly because Asian female characters are still stereo-typically kick-ass, beautiful villians with few lines and lots of attitude, all of which come naturally to me of course.
I had a purple bathing suit with white ruffles on it when I was nine. One day I couldn't find it anywhere. I asked my mother where it was and received a shrug in response. "You must have lost it," she said, knowing full well it would send me into a fit. I didn't lose things, it was my favorite one, where was it? She told me years later that she hid it because she was sick of seeing it. I knew I didn't lose it. I was maaaaad.
The first couple of songs I learned to play on guitar were: "Norwegian Wood", "Wild Horses", "The One I Love", "More Than Words" and "To Be With You." And I still play them all incorrectly.
I have a mark on the bottom of my foot that has been there for as long as I can remember. I don't know what it's from, though I have an extremely fuzzy, vague memory of stepping on a nail. In the memory I go on to think how much more it should have hurt before walking away. Could be some truth to it, could be a movie I saw (in which I could've played the part better no doubt). Who knows.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Mother: Tell the lady why you don't like grandma and grandpa.
Little Girl: Lemme out.
Mother: Go ahead, tell her why you don't like them.
Little Girl: Kitty wants go out.
Mother: Why honey? Why don't you like them?
Little Girl: grammy and grampy awnrunks.
Lady doesn't understand.
Mother: (laughs) Grandma and grandpa are drunks.
Lady's smile kind of freezes.
Mother: Not really though. She just says that.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
A couple years ago some friends and I decided to head down to New Orleans to attend Jazz Fest. To their own misfortune, they charged me with finding us a hotel. As we made this vacation plan on the later side, every single hotel I tried to get was booked except for this one place outside the city. Across the Mississippi. Knowing that we already had our flights, it was this place or the street. So I booked it. On some random hotels website, before the travel gnome and yellow suitcases hit it big.
When we arrived at the airport a woman in a white suit asked us if we needed a taxi to our hotel. We told her where we were staying and asked what she charged so we wouldn't get screwed on the whole taxi fare outside of the city limits deal. She gave us a flat rate and told us to follow her. All of our mouths dropped when we stopped in front of a white limo.
"For serious? This is your taxi?"
She smiled and said get in. We couldn't help but take it as a good sign, until we got in and realized the limo was 30 years old.
When we got off the highway and it looked like she was turning into the parking lot of a defunct bank, we asked her where she was going. She pointed to a building about 500 feet behind the defunct bank.
"That's your hotel."
After working out a most distasteful booking situation, (apparently the website I used not only did not send our booking request, they also charged us an extra two hundred dollars over the hotel's rate. So much for saving on the taxi ride,) we piled into our room. After a while we decided our first dinner in New Orleans could not be spent in this hotel outside the city so we called a cab and waited by the luxurious pool for it to come pick us up.
A pool so luxurious, by the way, a bar of soap was placed neatly by its side.
Needless to say many alcoholic hurricanes later, we were thrilled with the outdoor oversized bathtub.