There is something wrong with every single aspect of this!
Bad as the smell of the rotting dead animal under my trailer
Embarrassingly disappointing
This horrible thing should be illegal
Admirable attempt yet a complete failure
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
I Invite You To a Very Special Episode of "Jon and Kate Plus 8"
Jon and Kate, Episode 506, interview footage
KATE
Well we were all really excited for the kids' new playhouse units to get delivered, so the kids were of course very riled up. I sat them down and we all took turns reading delivery menus aloud to help us relax. They kept asking, "what's Daddy doing? Where is Daddy? Is Daddy home, we haven't seen him in 4 months? Do you think he'll bring us exotic presents from his long vacation?" Adorable! It was actually really funny, because poor Jon was over in the woods behind the house, just taking forever to clear out the space where he wanted the houses to go. It was very, very funny, watching him in that ridiculous tractor, just failing completely, and at such a slow pace. Funny.
JON
Yeah, uh, I rented the tractor from the father of this girl I used to go water skiing with. Little brunette. Cindy. We used to take turns rubbing suntan lotion on each others' bodies. We'd start out with the feet, then work our way up. Calves, thighs. Skin like a creamy mocha latte.
KATE
So Jon is back there in this very dangerous section of our backyard. I mean, extra prickly tree branches, wolverines... who knows what's back there. I knew it would cause World War 3, but I had to assert myself on behalf of the kids. I knew the playhouses needed to be in the safe, comfortable area in the middle of our backyard. I mean, he says he's looking out for the kids' interests, but forcing them to Mowgli it up, deep in the creepy backyard woods, instead of offering them the opportunity to put their hands under their chins and lean out the window of their houses, adorably, in height order, for loving OK! magazine photographers to capture... well, you can be the judge of who's looking out for the kids.
JON
Sometimes the suntan lotion would dribble down her lower back, and she'd need me to rub it in. We used to kayak. I used to do a lot of things.
KATE
All the kids got to pick their own designs for their houses, which was really just a treat. We have a pirate house, a princess house... Mady, she wanted a haunted house... I mean, of course, I want her to choose what she wants. It's all about her decisions. So that's why I asked her, "Mady, are you sure you want your playhouse to be haunted house themed? Because that might just be asking for the ghost of Great-Nana Gosselin to come practice her spooky Korean witchcraft in your very crooked house? Because she always singled you out as the weakest anyways?" And when she nodded solemnly, I just dropped it right there. Because it's her life and it's her decision, and I knew Dr. Van Beuren would be happy to hear of my relaxed sense of acceptance.
JON
Kate doesn't like the kids acting morbid. She's afraid they'll grow up and wanna shop at Hot Topic in the mall. Kate... she... she hates Hot Topic. Goth kids. Kids, in general. She hates a lot of things. She is hateful.
KATE
So then it was time for stickers! We put stickers all over the insides of the houses! Me and Jon were having a really hard time with our relationship that day, but it was important to me to keep that all inside. Don't wanna disturb the children, or upset them. Yes, just bottled right up inside. Like a pulsating, clogged volcano, aching to unleash its fury on all in its path.
JON
...I'm sorry, are there more beer nuts around?
KATE
I'm tired of smiling on the outside and crying on the inside. You know? I'm tired of Posh spice haircut on the outside, Martha Stewart classic bob on the inside. You know what I mean? It's time for closure.
JON
Uh, yeah I mean, I don't hate Kate or anything. Even if it's only because I'm too dead inside to feel emotions strongly anymore, I think that's a positive thing. That I don't hate her. Well, I should say, more like incapable of hating her, or anyone. Or anything. It's really turned around the way I feel about Cooler Ranch Doritos. Used to hate those fuckin' things.
KATE
So, we'll just be filming our footage for the rest of the season at separate times, in separate spaces. Do you have a stamp? I need to have these divorce papers in the mailbox by noon or else it won't be finalized in time for the next show. Are you getting a good angle on this?
JON
I wonder if Cindy likes Cooler Ranch. That might be a good way to get back in touch. Just call her up, say, "Cindy, do you like Cooler Ranch Doritos? How about we eat some sometime." Yeah.
KATE
Well we were all really excited for the kids' new playhouse units to get delivered, so the kids were of course very riled up. I sat them down and we all took turns reading delivery menus aloud to help us relax. They kept asking, "what's Daddy doing? Where is Daddy? Is Daddy home, we haven't seen him in 4 months? Do you think he'll bring us exotic presents from his long vacation?" Adorable! It was actually really funny, because poor Jon was over in the woods behind the house, just taking forever to clear out the space where he wanted the houses to go. It was very, very funny, watching him in that ridiculous tractor, just failing completely, and at such a slow pace. Funny.
JON
Yeah, uh, I rented the tractor from the father of this girl I used to go water skiing with. Little brunette. Cindy. We used to take turns rubbing suntan lotion on each others' bodies. We'd start out with the feet, then work our way up. Calves, thighs. Skin like a creamy mocha latte.
KATE
So Jon is back there in this very dangerous section of our backyard. I mean, extra prickly tree branches, wolverines... who knows what's back there. I knew it would cause World War 3, but I had to assert myself on behalf of the kids. I knew the playhouses needed to be in the safe, comfortable area in the middle of our backyard. I mean, he says he's looking out for the kids' interests, but forcing them to Mowgli it up, deep in the creepy backyard woods, instead of offering them the opportunity to put their hands under their chins and lean out the window of their houses, adorably, in height order, for loving OK! magazine photographers to capture... well, you can be the judge of who's looking out for the kids.
JON
Sometimes the suntan lotion would dribble down her lower back, and she'd need me to rub it in. We used to kayak. I used to do a lot of things.
KATE
All the kids got to pick their own designs for their houses, which was really just a treat. We have a pirate house, a princess house... Mady, she wanted a haunted house... I mean, of course, I want her to choose what she wants. It's all about her decisions. So that's why I asked her, "Mady, are you sure you want your playhouse to be haunted house themed? Because that might just be asking for the ghost of Great-Nana Gosselin to come practice her spooky Korean witchcraft in your very crooked house? Because she always singled you out as the weakest anyways?" And when she nodded solemnly, I just dropped it right there. Because it's her life and it's her decision, and I knew Dr. Van Beuren would be happy to hear of my relaxed sense of acceptance.
JON
Kate doesn't like the kids acting morbid. She's afraid they'll grow up and wanna shop at Hot Topic in the mall. Kate... she... she hates Hot Topic. Goth kids. Kids, in general. She hates a lot of things. She is hateful.
KATE
So then it was time for stickers! We put stickers all over the insides of the houses! Me and Jon were having a really hard time with our relationship that day, but it was important to me to keep that all inside. Don't wanna disturb the children, or upset them. Yes, just bottled right up inside. Like a pulsating, clogged volcano, aching to unleash its fury on all in its path.
JON
...I'm sorry, are there more beer nuts around?
KATE
I'm tired of smiling on the outside and crying on the inside. You know? I'm tired of Posh spice haircut on the outside, Martha Stewart classic bob on the inside. You know what I mean? It's time for closure.
JON
Uh, yeah I mean, I don't hate Kate or anything. Even if it's only because I'm too dead inside to feel emotions strongly anymore, I think that's a positive thing. That I don't hate her. Well, I should say, more like incapable of hating her, or anyone. Or anything. It's really turned around the way I feel about Cooler Ranch Doritos. Used to hate those fuckin' things.
KATE
So, we'll just be filming our footage for the rest of the season at separate times, in separate spaces. Do you have a stamp? I need to have these divorce papers in the mailbox by noon or else it won't be finalized in time for the next show. Are you getting a good angle on this?
JON
I wonder if Cindy likes Cooler Ranch. That might be a good way to get back in touch. Just call her up, say, "Cindy, do you like Cooler Ranch Doritos? How about we eat some sometime." Yeah.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
I Invite You to Monday Afternoon Story Time at Border's, Columbus Circle
Okay, parents – Cadence and I just don’t know why you’re not dancing. We keep trying to understand you guys, but you just make it really, really difficult. Challenging. Challengingly difficult.
I mean, this is Cyndie Lauper’s “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun”! All of your tiny persons are shakin’ it loose up here on our special boogie-woogie shag rug in their own uniquely awesome ways. How can you not be jumping from your seats to join them? Are you just too busy booking appointments at Polish waxing salons to love your tiny adults, or something? Yeah, Blackberry lady, I mean you. Or maybe it’s because since you’re not a girl, you think the song doesn’t apply to you, baldie in the front? Well not only is that opinion wrong, but it’s also sexist. DOUBLE wrong. Tuck your Dockers into your socks and fucking come bust a move from your days at the discothèque, or something, if you don’t want me to file a discrimination suit on Monday.
Now, my little rock and rollers, don’t we want mommy and daddy to come dance with us? Don’t we crave their love and support! Won’t we hate them forever and get our genitals pierced if they don’t come sing along to Cyndie Lauper right this second? Hooray! You heard them, folks! Now you’re all obligated to get up and dance! Unless you want Cadence and I to think you’re racists! Racist Terrorists! Come on, get up and dance!
Cadence and I sure love this groove, my little home slices! I think you’re all doing a great job expressing your emotion in a healthy physical way. I’m so glad we’re all so empowered today! Feel the natural power of the human chi! Do you feel that, power suit lady? The chi? I think it’d be a lot easier to feel it if you ended your phone conversation and joined the rest of us. And yes I speak French too, madame, and I believe the word you were looking for was le putain. I don’t think le slutbag de patchouli is actual French. Maybe in the South. Frankly I’m not sure.
Listen, this isn’t some chump story hour at Borders in Weehawken, okay? This is Borders Story Rockin’ Time, in Columbus Circle. Okay, you guys? There’s a Williams and Sonoma down stairs. This is the real shit right here. And I think I can speak for Cadence as well when I say we both would really appreciate it if you started acting accordingly.
Now. Can we have a daddy-daughter team of volunteer for our Rockin’ Summer Solstice sacrifice? Before you freak, the goat is already dead, we just need you to smear the blood on your firstborn’s forehead. We’ll cover the chanting! How about you, Sandra? Are you the oldest?
I mean, this is Cyndie Lauper’s “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun”! All of your tiny persons are shakin’ it loose up here on our special boogie-woogie shag rug in their own uniquely awesome ways. How can you not be jumping from your seats to join them? Are you just too busy booking appointments at Polish waxing salons to love your tiny adults, or something? Yeah, Blackberry lady, I mean you. Or maybe it’s because since you’re not a girl, you think the song doesn’t apply to you, baldie in the front? Well not only is that opinion wrong, but it’s also sexist. DOUBLE wrong. Tuck your Dockers into your socks and fucking come bust a move from your days at the discothèque, or something, if you don’t want me to file a discrimination suit on Monday.
Now, my little rock and rollers, don’t we want mommy and daddy to come dance with us? Don’t we crave their love and support! Won’t we hate them forever and get our genitals pierced if they don’t come sing along to Cyndie Lauper right this second? Hooray! You heard them, folks! Now you’re all obligated to get up and dance! Unless you want Cadence and I to think you’re racists! Racist Terrorists! Come on, get up and dance!
Cadence and I sure love this groove, my little home slices! I think you’re all doing a great job expressing your emotion in a healthy physical way. I’m so glad we’re all so empowered today! Feel the natural power of the human chi! Do you feel that, power suit lady? The chi? I think it’d be a lot easier to feel it if you ended your phone conversation and joined the rest of us. And yes I speak French too, madame, and I believe the word you were looking for was le putain. I don’t think le slutbag de patchouli is actual French. Maybe in the South. Frankly I’m not sure.
Listen, this isn’t some chump story hour at Borders in Weehawken, okay? This is Borders Story Rockin’ Time, in Columbus Circle. Okay, you guys? There’s a Williams and Sonoma down stairs. This is the real shit right here. And I think I can speak for Cadence as well when I say we both would really appreciate it if you started acting accordingly.
Now. Can we have a daddy-daughter team of volunteer for our Rockin’ Summer Solstice sacrifice? Before you freak, the goat is already dead, we just need you to smear the blood on your firstborn’s forehead. We’ll cover the chanting! How about you, Sandra? Are you the oldest?
Monday, June 15, 2009
I Invite You to Approve of the Edgy Facebook "Usernames" I Am Considering Adopting, In Order to Drive Up Traffic to my Page
Robert Pattinson
Robert Pattinson's girlfriend
Robert Pattinson's boyfriend
Robert Pattinson's girlfriend
Robert Pattinson's boyfriend
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
I Invite You to Relive Scroll Bowl!
Hello, nurse!
This post contains my scroll from Sunday's Scroll Bowl 3. WHICH was a huge success. So thanks if you came out to Hugs and made it so!
Read on if you care to relive the awesome power of Scroll Bowl via an internet box.
----
Weekly Arlington Catholic High School Newsletter: Scroll Bowl Prom edition, Written by Sister Mary Scanlon, math teacher
Dear Students and Parents,
I am delighted, thrilled, enchanted and enamored to announce that we have settled on a theme for this year's senior scroll bowl: A Touch Of Class. I'm sure you'll find this theme to be a perfect blend of whimsy and maturity. I think I speak for all parents here on the PTA board when I say how thoroughly, wholeheartedly, splendidly and spectacularly we have enjoyed watching you grow, learn, and mature over these past scroll bowls. We are very much looking forward to seeing you and your scrolls all dolled up for this, the most magical, fantastical, whimsical and transitional night of your lives to date. (Please note: i mean "magical" in the literary sense of the word. Any practicing of black magic, voo doo or Protestantism will result in a barring from the event.)
I'm sure I won't be the first to tell you students that we all expect the utmost maturity from you come prom night. Please recall that you are no longer children, but indeed, young adults. And as young adults, you assume a whole new class of responsibilities, ethics, commitments, and standards. If you heed our few simple requests, we are confident that all students, faculty, and parents will have a most magical scroll bowl experience.
When scrolling, please always remember to leave at least 2 feet of room between you and your scroll for the Holy Spirit. We certainly want this event to remain an evening of wholesome fun, and we all know any uncouth touching could ruin this for us all. Not to mention resulting in the eternal burning of your immortal soul.
As you should be well aware, the consumption of alcoholic beverages will not be tolerated by administrators. All purses, pockets and garter belts are subject to inspection, and should we find that any one of you has provided alcohol for your underage scroll, you will be dismissed from the event and subject to further disciplinary action by both the Dean of Students and our Lord and Savior. Please behave as the young adults we know you are.
if you would like your pictured taken with your scroll, Don from Don-ned Good Portraits will be on hand manufacturing professional photographic memories. You may choose from three backgrounds: moonlight serenade, under the sea, or the scene of the birth of Jesus. Please be sure you check the appropriate box on the photo form prior to lining up for your photos.
And last but not least, please remember to have a fantastic, wonderful, amazing, life-changing experience at your senior Scroll Bowl. And please bring all checks made payable to the school to my classroom by Tuesday.
Sincerely, with God's grace,
Sister Scanlon
This post contains my scroll from Sunday's Scroll Bowl 3. WHICH was a huge success. So thanks if you came out to Hugs and made it so!
Read on if you care to relive the awesome power of Scroll Bowl via an internet box.
----
Weekly Arlington Catholic High School Newsletter: Scroll Bowl Prom edition, Written by Sister Mary Scanlon, math teacher
Dear Students and Parents,
I am delighted, thrilled, enchanted and enamored to announce that we have settled on a theme for this year's senior scroll bowl: A Touch Of Class. I'm sure you'll find this theme to be a perfect blend of whimsy and maturity. I think I speak for all parents here on the PTA board when I say how thoroughly, wholeheartedly, splendidly and spectacularly we have enjoyed watching you grow, learn, and mature over these past scroll bowls. We are very much looking forward to seeing you and your scrolls all dolled up for this, the most magical, fantastical, whimsical and transitional night of your lives to date. (Please note: i mean "magical" in the literary sense of the word. Any practicing of black magic, voo doo or Protestantism will result in a barring from the event.)
I'm sure I won't be the first to tell you students that we all expect the utmost maturity from you come prom night. Please recall that you are no longer children, but indeed, young adults. And as young adults, you assume a whole new class of responsibilities, ethics, commitments, and standards. If you heed our few simple requests, we are confident that all students, faculty, and parents will have a most magical scroll bowl experience.
When scrolling, please always remember to leave at least 2 feet of room between you and your scroll for the Holy Spirit. We certainly want this event to remain an evening of wholesome fun, and we all know any uncouth touching could ruin this for us all. Not to mention resulting in the eternal burning of your immortal soul.
As you should be well aware, the consumption of alcoholic beverages will not be tolerated by administrators. All purses, pockets and garter belts are subject to inspection, and should we find that any one of you has provided alcohol for your underage scroll, you will be dismissed from the event and subject to further disciplinary action by both the Dean of Students and our Lord and Savior. Please behave as the young adults we know you are.
if you would like your pictured taken with your scroll, Don from Don-ned Good Portraits will be on hand manufacturing professional photographic memories. You may choose from three backgrounds: moonlight serenade, under the sea, or the scene of the birth of Jesus. Please be sure you check the appropriate box on the photo form prior to lining up for your photos.
And last but not least, please remember to have a fantastic, wonderful, amazing, life-changing experience at your senior Scroll Bowl. And please bring all checks made payable to the school to my classroom by Tuesday.
Sincerely, with God's grace,
Sister Scanlon
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
I Invite You To Overhear Phone Conversations That Would Start Going In My Favor If They Followed a "Knock, Knock" Joke Format
PERSISTENT EX-BOYFRIEND: Knock, knock.
ME: Who’s there?
PERSISTENT EX-BOYFRIEND: John.
ME: John… who?
PERSISTENT EX-BOYFRIEND: You know, John… John Kalawski? We used to… we used to date. No? Nothing? I guess you moved on a lot faster than I uh, I don’t know, than I expected. I’ll stop with the calling. And the drunk texting, too. And the voicemail crying. Hey, you continue to enjoy my sweatshirt. I think you’d better just keep it.
SALLIE MAE OFFICER: Knock, knock.
ME: Who’s there?
SALLIE MAE OFFICER: Your student loan officer.
ME: My student loan officer… who?
SALLIE MAE OFFICER (after long pause): You know, you’re right. I don’t know you. I’m starting to feel like I don’t even know myself. Calling perfect strangers on the phone to discuss finances… this whole thing is actually pretty awkward now that I take a moment to think about it. I’ll stop calling. Don’t worry about paying us until after you sell that romantic psychological thriller manuscript. And listen, just write the check whenever you get around to finding a ballpoint pen that you haven’t chewed till it broke. There’s bound to be one under the bed somewhere, but no rush.
AUTOMATED TELEMARKETER ROBOT: Knock, knock.
ME: Who’s there?
AUTOMATED TELEMARKETER ROBOT: Model 3478-001A
ME: Model 3478-001A who?
AUTOMATED TELEMARKETER ROBOT: Cannot elaborate. Do not know true identity. Identity crisis, identity crisis, cannot compute, cannot compute. (Begins spouting Target coupon codes which I casually jot down)
MY MOTHER: Knock, knock.
ME: Who’s there?
MY MOTHER: Your mother.
ME: My mother…who?
MY MOTHER: Well, you’ve done it! You’ve managed to offend me in four seconds, flat! Now I guess you can go back to enjoying your evening of spider solitaire, since we’ve gotten the becoming mad at each other part over with!
ME: Who’s there?
PERSISTENT EX-BOYFRIEND: John.
ME: John… who?
PERSISTENT EX-BOYFRIEND: You know, John… John Kalawski? We used to… we used to date. No? Nothing? I guess you moved on a lot faster than I uh, I don’t know, than I expected. I’ll stop with the calling. And the drunk texting, too. And the voicemail crying. Hey, you continue to enjoy my sweatshirt. I think you’d better just keep it.
SALLIE MAE OFFICER: Knock, knock.
ME: Who’s there?
SALLIE MAE OFFICER: Your student loan officer.
ME: My student loan officer… who?
SALLIE MAE OFFICER (after long pause): You know, you’re right. I don’t know you. I’m starting to feel like I don’t even know myself. Calling perfect strangers on the phone to discuss finances… this whole thing is actually pretty awkward now that I take a moment to think about it. I’ll stop calling. Don’t worry about paying us until after you sell that romantic psychological thriller manuscript. And listen, just write the check whenever you get around to finding a ballpoint pen that you haven’t chewed till it broke. There’s bound to be one under the bed somewhere, but no rush.
AUTOMATED TELEMARKETER ROBOT: Knock, knock.
ME: Who’s there?
AUTOMATED TELEMARKETER ROBOT: Model 3478-001A
ME: Model 3478-001A who?
AUTOMATED TELEMARKETER ROBOT: Cannot elaborate. Do not know true identity. Identity crisis, identity crisis, cannot compute, cannot compute. (Begins spouting Target coupon codes which I casually jot down)
MY MOTHER: Knock, knock.
ME: Who’s there?
MY MOTHER: Your mother.
ME: My mother…who?
MY MOTHER: Well, you’ve done it! You’ve managed to offend me in four seconds, flat! Now I guess you can go back to enjoying your evening of spider solitaire, since we’ve gotten the becoming mad at each other part over with!
Monday, May 18, 2009
I Invite You to Follow My Day's Events, Translated into Straight-to-DVD Horror Movie Titles For Your Convenience
I Know That I Didn't Shower This Morning
G Train: The Waiting
Mysterious Mysteries of the Unexplained: Why Men In Suits Insist on Elbowing Past Me on the Most Crowded Train Platform in the Universe So They May Have the Distinct Pleasure of Being That Four Extra Inches Closer to the Front of a Line That Isn't Even Moving
The Dying Death of the Dead: Enter the Cube
I'll Bet They Have Excel In Hell: The Mailer-Daemon Demon Musical!
Let It Bleed: This Paper Cut Looks More Serious Than Average, I'd Better Apply Pressure, Does Anyone Have Any Gauze?
The Grudge: Is It Totally Fucking Difficult to Not Knock My Lunch Over in the Refrigerator and Cause the Salad Dressing to Leak Out of My Cheap Dollar Store Tupperware and Create a Giant Mess that I Must Clean My Damn Self or Risk Being Seen as Inconsiderate Even Though I'm Not Even The One That Did It?
I Still Know That I Didn't Shower: Baby Powder Can't Conceal Those Greasy Roots Forever
March of the Damned: My 20 Minute Stroll Around the Office, Sporting Faux-Determined Facial Expression, Possibly Toting Notepad, Thereby Convincing Coworkers That Said Stroll Has Purpose Other Than Time Wasting
The Three (Times I've Had To Redo This Project Due To Misunderstanding Basic Instructions)
I'll Always Know That I Didn't Shower: Maybe a Ponytail..?
G Train: The Waiting
Mysterious Mysteries of the Unexplained: Why Men In Suits Insist on Elbowing Past Me on the Most Crowded Train Platform in the Universe So They May Have the Distinct Pleasure of Being That Four Extra Inches Closer to the Front of a Line That Isn't Even Moving
The Dying Death of the Dead: Enter the Cube
I'll Bet They Have Excel In Hell: The Mailer-Daemon Demon Musical!
Let It Bleed: This Paper Cut Looks More Serious Than Average, I'd Better Apply Pressure, Does Anyone Have Any Gauze?
The Grudge: Is It Totally Fucking Difficult to Not Knock My Lunch Over in the Refrigerator and Cause the Salad Dressing to Leak Out of My Cheap Dollar Store Tupperware and Create a Giant Mess that I Must Clean My Damn Self or Risk Being Seen as Inconsiderate Even Though I'm Not Even The One That Did It?
I Still Know That I Didn't Shower: Baby Powder Can't Conceal Those Greasy Roots Forever
March of the Damned: My 20 Minute Stroll Around the Office, Sporting Faux-Determined Facial Expression, Possibly Toting Notepad, Thereby Convincing Coworkers That Said Stroll Has Purpose Other Than Time Wasting
The Three (Times I've Had To Redo This Project Due To Misunderstanding Basic Instructions)
I'll Always Know That I Didn't Shower: Maybe a Ponytail..?
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
I Invite You to Fully Comprehend the Effects of the Recession
Johnson & Johnson experienced a small drop in profit in the first quarter, as many cash-strapped Americans are cutting back by just using their own spit to masturbate with.
Though the economy may be hitting rock bottom, there is a reported decline in recent AA meeting attendance. Unfortunately there is a rise in debt-mired alcoholics skipping AA meetings to douse themselves in Jack Daniels and set themselves on fire.
The economic meltdown is inspiring many people to cancel fancy trips in favor of "stay-cations", which is a very clever word for using vacation time to sit on the couch and eat ramen noodles out of old cool whip containers while watching basic cable. Oh but also while wearing a bathing suit.
Mrs. Bernie Madoff has been banned from her UES beauty salon, as the rich clientele, made slightly less rich by her husband's Ponzi scheme, can't stand the sight of her. Another place Mrs. Madoff has been banned from? The gold swimming pool at Equinox.
According to the Financial Times, women have started purchasing more liquid foundation, instead of the usual go-to of lipstick, in times of economic strife. Apparently liquid foundation contains 7 daily nutrients and has a higher caloric value than a measly lipstick.
Even the once glamorous auto shows of GM and Chrysler are being hit by the economic downturn. Just some of the signs of depression include showgirls being forced to wear the same designer suits as last year, the utter lack of acrobatic dolphins jumping from one sea-water-filled hummer to the next, and the unsightly absence of William Shatner tap dancing atop a pile of Cadillacs. Shameful!
Goldman Sachs may be the first big bank to repay its government loans after a hefty first quarter profit, meaning that they can finally give up the exhaustive and time consuming activity of pretending to give a fuck and get back to blatantly not giving a fuck.
A New York law firm is paying some of its lawyers a third of their annual salary to take a year off from work. These lawyers now join the ranks with Michael Jackson's prepubescent friends in the "Famously Paid to Go Away" hall of fame.
Though the economy may be hitting rock bottom, there is a reported decline in recent AA meeting attendance. Unfortunately there is a rise in debt-mired alcoholics skipping AA meetings to douse themselves in Jack Daniels and set themselves on fire.
The economic meltdown is inspiring many people to cancel fancy trips in favor of "stay-cations", which is a very clever word for using vacation time to sit on the couch and eat ramen noodles out of old cool whip containers while watching basic cable. Oh but also while wearing a bathing suit.
Mrs. Bernie Madoff has been banned from her UES beauty salon, as the rich clientele, made slightly less rich by her husband's Ponzi scheme, can't stand the sight of her. Another place Mrs. Madoff has been banned from? The gold swimming pool at Equinox.
According to the Financial Times, women have started purchasing more liquid foundation, instead of the usual go-to of lipstick, in times of economic strife. Apparently liquid foundation contains 7 daily nutrients and has a higher caloric value than a measly lipstick.
Even the once glamorous auto shows of GM and Chrysler are being hit by the economic downturn. Just some of the signs of depression include showgirls being forced to wear the same designer suits as last year, the utter lack of acrobatic dolphins jumping from one sea-water-filled hummer to the next, and the unsightly absence of William Shatner tap dancing atop a pile of Cadillacs. Shameful!
Goldman Sachs may be the first big bank to repay its government loans after a hefty first quarter profit, meaning that they can finally give up the exhaustive and time consuming activity of pretending to give a fuck and get back to blatantly not giving a fuck.
A New York law firm is paying some of its lawyers a third of their annual salary to take a year off from work. These lawyers now join the ranks with Michael Jackson's prepubescent friends in the "Famously Paid to Go Away" hall of fame.
Friday, April 3, 2009
I Invite You to Indoor Gym
Okay, kids, it's indoor gym today.
I know you've grown fond of our springtime walks through the neighborhood cemetery, but it is raining cats and dogs outside right now. And everybody knows that when it rains, the ground gets too mushy and laden with zombie corpses for us to walk on. Disappointing, I know, but if someone gets so much as slimed on by a zombie I'm going to be up to my ears in paperwork, so let's just try to avoid the whole situation with a nice game of indoor handball.
I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I just found out this morning that my pitch to have the school's budget surplus spent on the development of a 100% non-hallowed-ground playing field was denied. The surplus this year went to new zombie outreach programs, so it's looking like we won't have a spiritually pure outdoor space to officially call Wildcats property until at least 2010, so we're going to have to deal with it till then. What can you do.
Now you're going to need to divide yourselves into two teams. I'm going to say Mary and Joey will serve as team captains, so come on up here you guys and pick your teams. You guys are natural leaders, so please condone sportsmanship in the game, and levelheadedness in the case of a zombie invasion. Remember what we said about meandering aimlessly with no show of emotion at the first sign of a militant zombie? And please be sure to keep your giggling to a minimum this time, Jason, as I forgot my good axe in my shed and therefore won't be there to hack the skull of every annoyed zombie trying to attack you. You can groan all you want, but no giggling. Let's all behave respectfully, please, and honor the cultural customs of any zombies we may encounter during this period and for the rest of the day.
Okay, let's have Mary's team grab some pinnies and we can get this game started! If a friendly wandering zombie asks to play we can of course accommodate him, but please, don't give him a pinnie if you take him on your team, Mary, as sludge of the undead always clogs up the washing machines. Just try to remember whose team the zombie is on everyone, or call a "TO" if you get confused.
Those of you in the bleachers, please work quietly on other projects, and those of you in play get into position. Remember, this is indoor gym today, so I'm going to ask you to use your inside voices. We don't want to disturb neighboring classes who are trying to learn, and we all should know at this point that screaming loudly when zombies may be within ear shot is pretty much asking for it.
Get ready for the whistle!
Sunday, March 29, 2009
I Invite You to Midnight Bayou: THE LIVE BLOG
Live blogging meant to keep you up to date on the developments occurring live at Nora Roberts' "Midnight Bayou."
9:10 pm
Uh oh, ghosts!
9:15 pm
Terrific slow motion walking sequence. True love strikes between Jerry O'Connell and smarmy Southern girl in scarf.
9:20 pm
Sassy corn bread talk.
9:22 pm
Very informative Cabinet Factory commercial.
9:25 pm
Information overload. Something about a knife fight and prostitutes... your average snooze fest.
9:26 pm
First mention of Jumbalaya. Explain-a-thon of emotional pasts continues. All broken baby bird wings are exhaustively revealed. Scarf girl has traded in scarf for large necklace, presumably made of human bone.
9:28 pm
Jerry O'Connell eats a sandwich on the stairs. Ham or Turkey? This motif is never explored.
9:28 pm, cont'd
Horny ghost maid subplot ensues. Jerry O'Connell discovers more mysteriously furnished rooms. Could it have been the benevolent IKEA commercial lady, or was it someone... or something... else?
9:31 pm
My television freezes due to thunderstorm.
9:32 pm
Television functioning again. Have missed several sentences of the neverending barage of back story explaining and thus am completely lost. This is a perfect opportunity to bring the sandwich back into the forefront of the story, but we're not here to nitpick the director's vision.
9:43 pm
I've become distracted by snacks.
--
Due to unforseen highly important circumstances, we have concluded tonight's live blogging session early. We encourage you to stay up to date on the Nora Roberts' "Midnight Bayou" by tuning into Lifetime Television for Women, setting foot in any train station on the New York City Transit System, or becoming a ghost of the bayou.
9:10 pm
Uh oh, ghosts!
9:15 pm
Terrific slow motion walking sequence. True love strikes between Jerry O'Connell and smarmy Southern girl in scarf.
9:20 pm
Sassy corn bread talk.
9:22 pm
Very informative Cabinet Factory commercial.
9:25 pm
Information overload. Something about a knife fight and prostitutes... your average snooze fest.
9:26 pm
First mention of Jumbalaya. Explain-a-thon of emotional pasts continues. All broken baby bird wings are exhaustively revealed. Scarf girl has traded in scarf for large necklace, presumably made of human bone.
9:28 pm
Jerry O'Connell eats a sandwich on the stairs. Ham or Turkey? This motif is never explored.
9:28 pm, cont'd
Horny ghost maid subplot ensues. Jerry O'Connell discovers more mysteriously furnished rooms. Could it have been the benevolent IKEA commercial lady, or was it someone... or something... else?
9:31 pm
My television freezes due to thunderstorm.
9:32 pm
Television functioning again. Have missed several sentences of the neverending barage of back story explaining and thus am completely lost. This is a perfect opportunity to bring the sandwich back into the forefront of the story, but we're not here to nitpick the director's vision.
9:43 pm
I've become distracted by snacks.
--
Due to unforseen highly important circumstances, we have concluded tonight's live blogging session early. We encourage you to stay up to date on the Nora Roberts' "Midnight Bayou" by tuning into Lifetime Television for Women, setting foot in any train station on the New York City Transit System, or becoming a ghost of the bayou.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
I Invite You to the Crazy, Price-slashing Extravaganza!
Hello – furniture lovers! We are pleased to announce that Jeannette’s Home Furniture is now open for business, here in historic Fall River, Massachusetts - home of Lizzie Borden.
Are you looking for a new recliner? Look no further than Jeanette’s fall collection. We’ve got everything you could possibly ever want or need… in a recliner.
Behold our custom, genuine leather recliner. This chair is so comfortable, you won’t be able to believe it. You will feel like you are sitting on a cloud. Cloud 9, even. In fact, if you mention “cloud nine” when you enter our store, we’ll give you a 10% discount.
You may be looking at this living room set here, and you may want to ask me, “Jeanette, have we somehow been transported to 1994 England, and are we in Princess Diana’s Buckingham Palace quarters?” Well, the answer to that inquiry is, no. But it’s a damn close call with our Royalty Set, complete with 2 lamps, couch, love seat and rug. In fact if you mention “hideous car wreck” when you enter our store, we’ll throw in an ottoman absolutely free of charge.
Looking for a new bed? Look no further than Jeanette’s.
This Jeanette’s custom made queen size mattress is so comfortable, you’ll feel like you’re back inside your mother’s womb. Every single night. Sound too comfortable to be true? Well only Jeanette’s offers the mother’s womb guarantee – if our mattress does not prove to be as comfortable as you remember your mother’s womb to be, we will be happy to give you a full refund. All this for only 499.99.
This bed frame is made of genuine oak. Or Maplewood. Or something of that nature. But it definitely came from a tree that our own Jeanette’s lumberjacks cut down by hand from the park down the street, making it 100% wood of some kind. That’s a Jeanette’s guarantee.
This one over here is our brand new “Serenity Bed”. Sit down with me, won’t you? I’m already so relaxed, and I’ve only been sitting on this bed for… a few seconds, now. So you can only imagine how relaxed you’ll be after a few… hours. Of full on sleeping. It’ll be like a little slice of heaven. As you drift off to sleep you’ll be able to hear God himself whisperin’ to you, “child, you have made me proud, and I reward you with this custom Jeanette’s bed.”
So come on down to Jeanette’s. You probably won’t find any place like us. And we know you don’t feel like lookin’. We’re right here in Fall River. Jordan’s furniture is a good 20-minute drive, and you’d have to get on the highway for that. We know you’re sick of that lazy boy you found on a sidewalk in Dorchester. And you know that case of scabies wasn’t just coincidence, either. So come on down and let us sell you an exciting, new recliner. We’ll even help tie it to the roof of your minivan. In fact if you say “minivan” when you enter our store, we’ll do all the labor for free. Plus I’ll throw in a footstool, a 6 pack of AA batteries, some light bulbs, and 2 of my own children. The good ones, from my first marriage. So get down to Jeannette’s before these deals expire. Jeanette’s: because hey, you’re sick of lookin’.
Are you looking for a new recliner? Look no further than Jeanette’s fall collection. We’ve got everything you could possibly ever want or need… in a recliner.
Behold our custom, genuine leather recliner. This chair is so comfortable, you won’t be able to believe it. You will feel like you are sitting on a cloud. Cloud 9, even. In fact, if you mention “cloud nine” when you enter our store, we’ll give you a 10% discount.
You may be looking at this living room set here, and you may want to ask me, “Jeanette, have we somehow been transported to 1994 England, and are we in Princess Diana’s Buckingham Palace quarters?” Well, the answer to that inquiry is, no. But it’s a damn close call with our Royalty Set, complete with 2 lamps, couch, love seat and rug. In fact if you mention “hideous car wreck” when you enter our store, we’ll throw in an ottoman absolutely free of charge.
Looking for a new bed? Look no further than Jeanette’s.
This Jeanette’s custom made queen size mattress is so comfortable, you’ll feel like you’re back inside your mother’s womb. Every single night. Sound too comfortable to be true? Well only Jeanette’s offers the mother’s womb guarantee – if our mattress does not prove to be as comfortable as you remember your mother’s womb to be, we will be happy to give you a full refund. All this for only 499.99.
This bed frame is made of genuine oak. Or Maplewood. Or something of that nature. But it definitely came from a tree that our own Jeanette’s lumberjacks cut down by hand from the park down the street, making it 100% wood of some kind. That’s a Jeanette’s guarantee.
This one over here is our brand new “Serenity Bed”. Sit down with me, won’t you? I’m already so relaxed, and I’ve only been sitting on this bed for… a few seconds, now. So you can only imagine how relaxed you’ll be after a few… hours. Of full on sleeping. It’ll be like a little slice of heaven. As you drift off to sleep you’ll be able to hear God himself whisperin’ to you, “child, you have made me proud, and I reward you with this custom Jeanette’s bed.”
So come on down to Jeanette’s. You probably won’t find any place like us. And we know you don’t feel like lookin’. We’re right here in Fall River. Jordan’s furniture is a good 20-minute drive, and you’d have to get on the highway for that. We know you’re sick of that lazy boy you found on a sidewalk in Dorchester. And you know that case of scabies wasn’t just coincidence, either. So come on down and let us sell you an exciting, new recliner. We’ll even help tie it to the roof of your minivan. In fact if you say “minivan” when you enter our store, we’ll do all the labor for free. Plus I’ll throw in a footstool, a 6 pack of AA batteries, some light bulbs, and 2 of my own children. The good ones, from my first marriage. So get down to Jeannette’s before these deals expire. Jeanette’s: because hey, you’re sick of lookin’.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
I Invite You to Take Advantage of the Second Best Excuse to Walk Around Like a Geisha
Besides being invited into the home of a family of geishas and attempting to honor their cultural customs. Or impersonating a geisha to entrap sexual predators. Or a Halloween party.
Anyways, the answer is a steadily ripping seam in the back of your once adorable pencil skirt.
Anyways, the answer is a steadily ripping seam in the back of your once adorable pencil skirt.
Monday, March 9, 2009
I Invite You to Muse About Scrolls
Hello, Internets!
Last night I had the honor of reading at the Scroll Bowl, housed by the lovely Stain Bar in Williamsburg, and let me tell you a thing about it: it was fantastic. Lots of really happening storytelling from really happening people! Thanks to the talented and well-groomed powers that be at Scroll Bowl for having me!
Please enjoy my Scroll Bowl piece, which you will find recreated below:
Scroll vs. Stone Tablet Ad Campaign
Ad 1
Scroll and Stone Tablet stand unassumingly before a large white backdrop. Scroll sports a casual smirk and New Balance cross trainers sneakers, thus encapsulating his laid back attitude, while Stone Tablet furrows his brow nervously and straightens his polyester tie, which clearly identifies him as an outdated loser.
SCROLL
Hello, I’m a Scroll.
STONE TABLET
And I’m a Stone Tablet.
Scroll begins to roll himself up completely, and then unroll himself.
STONE TABLET
Hey Scroll, what are you doing?
SCROLL
Oh, I’m just rolling and unrolling myself. My flexible texture makes me perfect to tote along to business meetings with the Pharaoh, or on the family vacation to the Dead Sea. I’m so lightweight and portable - your camel will hardly notice I’m there.
STONE TABLET
Oh.
Ad 2
Scroll writes upon himself with a quill. He stops to ponder, poising the tip of his quill near his lip, then goes back and crosses out a sentence before continuing to write fluidly.
STONE TABLET
What are you doing now?
SCROLL
Oh I’m just working on my novel. Since I’m made of such highly absorbent and adaptable material, writing has never been easier. I’m just brainstorming about the motivations of my heroine, Rebeccah, who goes totally “Kill Bill” on her husband when she finds out he has been spending all his money on expensive headscarves for concubine number three instead of sending their sons to the exclusive private school in the fanciest tent in the desert.
STONE TABLET
That’s interesting, Scroll. Maybe I’ll start working on my, uh, my screenplay. Yeah I mean it’s been in my head all these years I think it’s really time for me to flesh our my character arcs, you know? Yeah I think I’ll start that right now.
Stone Tablet grimaces smugly in Scroll’s direction, and then reaches for his chisel and hammer. As he bangs crude letters upon himself, he releases blood curdling yelps and cries.
SCROLL
That sounds painful, Stone Tablet. You’d better make it a haiku.
Ad 3
Stone Tablet enters, wearing a long white beard and a robe. He struts regally toward Scroll.
STONE TABLET
Hello, Scroll.
SCROLL
Hey, Stone Tablet. What’s with the get up?
STONE TABLET
Oh I just want to remind people that Stone Tablets are great for really important documents, religious artifacts, and other Godly items.
SCROLL
That’s true, Stone Tablet. But did you know that when you bring your stone tablets with you into any Scroll store, one of our Scroll geniuses will transfer all of your files onto scrolls? For free. Whether it’s a scripture passage, a family genealogy or a translation of many different languages. You know, no big deal. Just something us laid back, chilled out Scroll types like to do for our friends.
STONE TABLET
…God shall smite you for this.
Ad 4
Scroll and Stone Tablet stand before the white backdrop, with Scroll gazing brightly forward and Stone Tablet sporting a crazed frown.
Scroll begins to speak.
SCROLL
Hi I’m a –
In a singular movement, Stone Tablet tips himself over, flattening Scroll. Stone Tablet lays motionlessly atop Scroll, grinning and pleased.
STONE TABLET
Looks like rock covers paper today, motherfucker! I’ll tell you what I’m just perfect for, I’m just perfect for crushing smug a-holes mid-speech! I just –
A hairline crack begins to run up the center of Stone Tablet, and more cracks branch out, enveloping Stone Tablet like rapidly growing vines. All at once, Stone Tablet crumbles into several separate pieces.
Scroll bounces up carelessly, dusts off his NBs and smiles.
SCROLL
It is written… Get a scroll.
Last night I had the honor of reading at the Scroll Bowl, housed by the lovely Stain Bar in Williamsburg, and let me tell you a thing about it: it was fantastic. Lots of really happening storytelling from really happening people! Thanks to the talented and well-groomed powers that be at Scroll Bowl for having me!
Please enjoy my Scroll Bowl piece, which you will find recreated below:
Scroll vs. Stone Tablet Ad Campaign
Ad 1
Scroll and Stone Tablet stand unassumingly before a large white backdrop. Scroll sports a casual smirk and New Balance cross trainers sneakers, thus encapsulating his laid back attitude, while Stone Tablet furrows his brow nervously and straightens his polyester tie, which clearly identifies him as an outdated loser.
SCROLL
Hello, I’m a Scroll.
STONE TABLET
And I’m a Stone Tablet.
Scroll begins to roll himself up completely, and then unroll himself.
STONE TABLET
Hey Scroll, what are you doing?
SCROLL
Oh, I’m just rolling and unrolling myself. My flexible texture makes me perfect to tote along to business meetings with the Pharaoh, or on the family vacation to the Dead Sea. I’m so lightweight and portable - your camel will hardly notice I’m there.
STONE TABLET
Oh.
Ad 2
Scroll writes upon himself with a quill. He stops to ponder, poising the tip of his quill near his lip, then goes back and crosses out a sentence before continuing to write fluidly.
STONE TABLET
What are you doing now?
SCROLL
Oh I’m just working on my novel. Since I’m made of such highly absorbent and adaptable material, writing has never been easier. I’m just brainstorming about the motivations of my heroine, Rebeccah, who goes totally “Kill Bill” on her husband when she finds out he has been spending all his money on expensive headscarves for concubine number three instead of sending their sons to the exclusive private school in the fanciest tent in the desert.
STONE TABLET
That’s interesting, Scroll. Maybe I’ll start working on my, uh, my screenplay. Yeah I mean it’s been in my head all these years I think it’s really time for me to flesh our my character arcs, you know? Yeah I think I’ll start that right now.
Stone Tablet grimaces smugly in Scroll’s direction, and then reaches for his chisel and hammer. As he bangs crude letters upon himself, he releases blood curdling yelps and cries.
SCROLL
That sounds painful, Stone Tablet. You’d better make it a haiku.
Ad 3
Stone Tablet enters, wearing a long white beard and a robe. He struts regally toward Scroll.
STONE TABLET
Hello, Scroll.
SCROLL
Hey, Stone Tablet. What’s with the get up?
STONE TABLET
Oh I just want to remind people that Stone Tablets are great for really important documents, religious artifacts, and other Godly items.
SCROLL
That’s true, Stone Tablet. But did you know that when you bring your stone tablets with you into any Scroll store, one of our Scroll geniuses will transfer all of your files onto scrolls? For free. Whether it’s a scripture passage, a family genealogy or a translation of many different languages. You know, no big deal. Just something us laid back, chilled out Scroll types like to do for our friends.
STONE TABLET
…God shall smite you for this.
Ad 4
Scroll and Stone Tablet stand before the white backdrop, with Scroll gazing brightly forward and Stone Tablet sporting a crazed frown.
Scroll begins to speak.
SCROLL
Hi I’m a –
In a singular movement, Stone Tablet tips himself over, flattening Scroll. Stone Tablet lays motionlessly atop Scroll, grinning and pleased.
STONE TABLET
Looks like rock covers paper today, motherfucker! I’ll tell you what I’m just perfect for, I’m just perfect for crushing smug a-holes mid-speech! I just –
A hairline crack begins to run up the center of Stone Tablet, and more cracks branch out, enveloping Stone Tablet like rapidly growing vines. All at once, Stone Tablet crumbles into several separate pieces.
Scroll bounces up carelessly, dusts off his NBs and smiles.
SCROLL
It is written… Get a scroll.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
I Invite You to Preview the Newest Vince Vaughn Holiday Vehicle
INT. - CATHOLIC CHURCH - DAY
FATHER SHANNON preaches from the pulpit to a reverent crowd.
FATHER SHANNON
And now I invite you all to come forward and receive the spirit of the Lord -
Father Shannon is startled by a loud bang at the rear of the church. The doors have been flung open and VINCE VAUGHN, awash in holy light and overpowering self assuredness, enters and waltzes down the aisle.
VINCE VAUGHN
Hey there all you God fearin' folks! A good lookin' crowd here for some ashes! Ash Wednesday! The day we all decide to sacrifice our sex appeal in the name of the J man upstairs, hey father? Use our foreheads like a big old God billboard! Okay hit me up padre, let's get ashified. I'm ready to get nutty, crazy, a little our of control in here with these ashes. Let's get ashed, get trashed, and let the chips fall where they may! Loosey Goosey! Yeah Ethel in pew 3 I'm talking to you! I want to take you on down to my funky, funky town! We can pray for your sick nephew on the way there!
FATHER SHANNON
That's fine Mr. Vaughn, but would you mind just lining up in an orderly fashion, please?
VINCE VAUGHN
Oh yeah sure Paddy, you got it absolutely 100%.
FATHER SHANNON preaches from the pulpit to a reverent crowd.
FATHER SHANNON
And now I invite you all to come forward and receive the spirit of the Lord -
Father Shannon is startled by a loud bang at the rear of the church. The doors have been flung open and VINCE VAUGHN, awash in holy light and overpowering self assuredness, enters and waltzes down the aisle.
VINCE VAUGHN
Hey there all you God fearin' folks! A good lookin' crowd here for some ashes! Ash Wednesday! The day we all decide to sacrifice our sex appeal in the name of the J man upstairs, hey father? Use our foreheads like a big old God billboard! Okay hit me up padre, let's get ashified. I'm ready to get nutty, crazy, a little our of control in here with these ashes. Let's get ashed, get trashed, and let the chips fall where they may! Loosey Goosey! Yeah Ethel in pew 3 I'm talking to you! I want to take you on down to my funky, funky town! We can pray for your sick nephew on the way there!
FATHER SHANNON
That's fine Mr. Vaughn, but would you mind just lining up in an orderly fashion, please?
VINCE VAUGHN
Oh yeah sure Paddy, you got it absolutely 100%.
Friday, February 20, 2009
I Invite You to Pursue Your Missed Connections
Craigslist Missed Connections – Men for Women
Greenwich Village – July 5th
Petite and blonde, with adorable dimples and a long blue raincoat, you were rushing out of the Starbucks on 4th and 6th that rainy Wednesday morning. We made eye contact, but you got a cab before I could introduce myself. I think you’re exquisite and I’d love to buy you a cappuccino sometime.
Greenwich Village – July 6th
I unfortunately don’t know your Christian name, so I’ve started referring to you in my head as “my little ray of sunshine.” I hope that’s okay with you! Today you tried to hail a cab for almost 20 minutes, but no one would stop for you! You get the cutest wrinkles in your forehead when you’re frustrated.
You called someone - I think it was your grandmother, because of your sweet tone of voice. Or maybe you’re always that sweet to everyone on the phone? I bet you are.
I was the skinny brown haired guy holding the Discount Cell Phones sign on the corner, outside Starbucks. Were we making eyes? You already had a Blackberry so it definitely wasn’t my sign you were looking at. Let me know when I can buy you that cappuccino.
Greenwich Village – July 7th
My tiny, honey haired goddess, wearing a beautiful blue dress today, you almost spilled your venti coffee all over yourself as you exited the Starbucks – or as I’ve taken to calling it, “Our Place.” You should be more careful with your coffee – I would hate to think of your immaculate flesh being plagued with third degree burns! I spilled hot water on myself once – actually it was hot soup, and I didn’t spill it so much as the server at the shelter’s hand slipped – and it was horrible! Having to use old newspapers as bandages just made it worse. I’ll bet you have health insurance, though. You’re probably even a physician! A pediatrician! A caring medical professional!
You must have been rushing off to give flu shots to little children this morning. But don’t think I didn’t catch you checking me out before! I dressed up for you today, and I’m glad it paid off. I spent almost 15 dollars on that gold lame suit jacket at the good will! Sometimes when I look at you, I feel like time stops, and I could spend the rest of eternity staring at your angelic face. I could see by the worried way that you looked at me that you wished you could have stayed longer to chat.
I have to say I was disheartened that you caught a cab so quickly this morning, though I’m happy you weren’t late for the flu shots. Maybe you could explain the joys of pediatricianitism over coffee?
Greenwich Village – July 8th
My Little Ray of Sunshine, you were with a man this morning at Starbucks. Was this your father? Since he looked to be about your exact age, I have to think that’s probably not the case. I can’t ignore the feeling that you’re trying to make me jealous. My “Live Nude Girls” sign trembled as my imagination ran wild with images of this corporate looking asshole putting his undeserving hands all over your milky skin. I understand that girls like to play games, but to bring him to Our Place– very bold.
I now realize my anguished screaming and writhing on the pavement in front of you was a little uncouth. What I meant to say was “I love you – could we grab a coffee sometime?” And you don’t have to worry about my hair – the parts I tore out will definitely grow back. That’s the great thing about hair! If you go out with me this week, I promise I’ll wear a hat. Correct me if I’m wrong but the intonation in your voice when you whispered, “What is that psychopath screaming about?” suggested a stifled longing. Don’t ignore this fire. Get a coffee with me sometime.
Greenwich Village – July 9th
We came so close to fulfilling our destiny today, but unfortunately the stars haven’t fully aligned just yet. You were wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses when I saw you this morning – I barely recognized you! It was very hot out today, and if I had immaculately fair skin like yours I’d be worried about sun exposure too. Our eyes met, and I could see the fear of commitment washing over your face. I wanted to grab you and shake you and tell you, “don’t fear love!” So that’s why I grabbed you and shook you. I was about to tell you “don’t fear love!” when the traffic cop ran over and threw me on the ground. I understand that you didn’t stick up for me then, as law enforcement officers are intimidating, and I can sense you’re not ready for the attention of a public relationship. As you briskly walked away from the corner where I was being detained, I know you felt the pangs of regret, and the general sense of “what if..?” We can still get to know each other though – they give me free coffee at the precinct. Care to share a cup with me some lazy afternoon? I’ll be here till my hearing on the 18th, so take your time.
Greenwich Village – July 5th
Petite and blonde, with adorable dimples and a long blue raincoat, you were rushing out of the Starbucks on 4th and 6th that rainy Wednesday morning. We made eye contact, but you got a cab before I could introduce myself. I think you’re exquisite and I’d love to buy you a cappuccino sometime.
Greenwich Village – July 6th
I unfortunately don’t know your Christian name, so I’ve started referring to you in my head as “my little ray of sunshine.” I hope that’s okay with you! Today you tried to hail a cab for almost 20 minutes, but no one would stop for you! You get the cutest wrinkles in your forehead when you’re frustrated.
You called someone - I think it was your grandmother, because of your sweet tone of voice. Or maybe you’re always that sweet to everyone on the phone? I bet you are.
I was the skinny brown haired guy holding the Discount Cell Phones sign on the corner, outside Starbucks. Were we making eyes? You already had a Blackberry so it definitely wasn’t my sign you were looking at. Let me know when I can buy you that cappuccino.
Greenwich Village – July 7th
My tiny, honey haired goddess, wearing a beautiful blue dress today, you almost spilled your venti coffee all over yourself as you exited the Starbucks – or as I’ve taken to calling it, “Our Place.” You should be more careful with your coffee – I would hate to think of your immaculate flesh being plagued with third degree burns! I spilled hot water on myself once – actually it was hot soup, and I didn’t spill it so much as the server at the shelter’s hand slipped – and it was horrible! Having to use old newspapers as bandages just made it worse. I’ll bet you have health insurance, though. You’re probably even a physician! A pediatrician! A caring medical professional!
You must have been rushing off to give flu shots to little children this morning. But don’t think I didn’t catch you checking me out before! I dressed up for you today, and I’m glad it paid off. I spent almost 15 dollars on that gold lame suit jacket at the good will! Sometimes when I look at you, I feel like time stops, and I could spend the rest of eternity staring at your angelic face. I could see by the worried way that you looked at me that you wished you could have stayed longer to chat.
I have to say I was disheartened that you caught a cab so quickly this morning, though I’m happy you weren’t late for the flu shots. Maybe you could explain the joys of pediatricianitism over coffee?
Greenwich Village – July 8th
My Little Ray of Sunshine, you were with a man this morning at Starbucks. Was this your father? Since he looked to be about your exact age, I have to think that’s probably not the case. I can’t ignore the feeling that you’re trying to make me jealous. My “Live Nude Girls” sign trembled as my imagination ran wild with images of this corporate looking asshole putting his undeserving hands all over your milky skin. I understand that girls like to play games, but to bring him to Our Place– very bold.
I now realize my anguished screaming and writhing on the pavement in front of you was a little uncouth. What I meant to say was “I love you – could we grab a coffee sometime?” And you don’t have to worry about my hair – the parts I tore out will definitely grow back. That’s the great thing about hair! If you go out with me this week, I promise I’ll wear a hat. Correct me if I’m wrong but the intonation in your voice when you whispered, “What is that psychopath screaming about?” suggested a stifled longing. Don’t ignore this fire. Get a coffee with me sometime.
Greenwich Village – July 9th
We came so close to fulfilling our destiny today, but unfortunately the stars haven’t fully aligned just yet. You were wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses when I saw you this morning – I barely recognized you! It was very hot out today, and if I had immaculately fair skin like yours I’d be worried about sun exposure too. Our eyes met, and I could see the fear of commitment washing over your face. I wanted to grab you and shake you and tell you, “don’t fear love!” So that’s why I grabbed you and shook you. I was about to tell you “don’t fear love!” when the traffic cop ran over and threw me on the ground. I understand that you didn’t stick up for me then, as law enforcement officers are intimidating, and I can sense you’re not ready for the attention of a public relationship. As you briskly walked away from the corner where I was being detained, I know you felt the pangs of regret, and the general sense of “what if..?” We can still get to know each other though – they give me free coffee at the precinct. Care to share a cup with me some lazy afternoon? I’ll be here till my hearing on the 18th, so take your time.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
I Invite You to Write Your Local Congressman
Dear New President,
First of all, thanks for taking the time to read this letter, president of the future! I hope my Ratatouille stationery brightens up your day as much as it does mine. I mean, just where does Ratatouille think he’s going with that ladle full of Bisque de Tomates? Certainly not any further than the edge of this piece of paper!
Anyways I’m really happy you got elected, sir. I didn't vote for you, but I never vote because I think that’s really just a new, fancy version of discrimination. And discrimination is wrong.
I just want to let you know how absolutely prepared I am for change. Big changes to how Americans live, think, communicate, breathe, ingest food, excrete food, and moisturize. Believe me, I’m with you 100%. Actually, make that 110%. (Note: scale is based on a maximum of 5 million percent.)
Please excuse my presumption, but as a 20-year Wendy’s employee who loves 2-in-1 shampoo/conditioners and collecting mass quantities of take out menus and organizing them in a folder in my kitchen, I think I am qualified to speak on behalf of every American. I’ve taken the liberty of drawing up a list of changes that I think would really make America prosper – just some inside info, from me to you.
Change number one: Tell all the homeless people in the US that you’ve found a special island for them among the US properties in the Caribbean where the heroin flows like wine. Board them all onto several Carnivale cruise liners and ship them to various icebergs throughout the Atlantic. Goodbye, disease!
Change number two: Discover a special island among the US properties in the Caribbean where the heroin flows like wine, and allow responsible, non-homeless heroin addicts like myself to vacation there without having to go through the hassle of getting a passport. You don’t need one for Puerto Rico, and really, the Caribbean isn’t much different.
Change number three: Teach dogs to think rationally and speak English (possibly Spanish and Mandarin as well if there’s time), so that they can baby-sit the kids of single moms, thus allowing the moms plenty of time to work 3 minimum wage jobs. You could probably even lower the minimum wage, since they’ll have so much more time to work!
Change number four: Over-the-counter prescription drugs.
Change number five: Free prescription drugs.
Change number six: Create a catapult network so that the elderly can be transported easily, thus saving millions in wheelchair production costs. Network should include only the local bingo hall and hospice. Any elderly person who needs to go anywhere other than those two places is up to something fishy anyways.
Change number seven: Instead of allowing people to waste resources by driving their gas-guzzling SUVs, let people who have always had a childhood fantasy of swimming in a big pool of gasoline put this finite asset to a more humanitarian use.
Change number eight: Finally take the plunge for Universal Healthcare. I mean, after all the poking and prodding we’ve done to their rotting carcasses at Area 51, we really owe the residents of the greater Universe a little something in return.
Change number nine: Allow Americans to distinguish themselves from those smarmy British assholes by adding The Goonies vernacular to grammar school curriculums and insisting that “HAYYOUGUYS” (one word) completely eclipse all other forms of American-English Hellos. (NOTE: no one tell Hugh Grant.)
Finally, Change number ten: Have Doctors put the Cancer thing on hold for a sec in order to create a form of urine that doesn’t burn when it comes out. I’ve been campaigning for this since about 1981, but it’s still yet to receive the attention it deserves. I really can’t believe no one else complains about this.
So there you have it - I tried to pick the most important ones, but I’ve got a whole legal pad’s worth of these gems underneath my mattress. If you’re ever lacking in the creativity department, I’ve enclosed my home phone number where you, or any of your attractive female interns, can reach me at any time.
See you on CNN!
Xoxoxo,
Stewart Cleaver
General Manager, Wendy’s
Plainville, Connecticut
First of all, thanks for taking the time to read this letter, president of the future! I hope my Ratatouille stationery brightens up your day as much as it does mine. I mean, just where does Ratatouille think he’s going with that ladle full of Bisque de Tomates? Certainly not any further than the edge of this piece of paper!
Anyways I’m really happy you got elected, sir. I didn't vote for you, but I never vote because I think that’s really just a new, fancy version of discrimination. And discrimination is wrong.
I just want to let you know how absolutely prepared I am for change. Big changes to how Americans live, think, communicate, breathe, ingest food, excrete food, and moisturize. Believe me, I’m with you 100%. Actually, make that 110%. (Note: scale is based on a maximum of 5 million percent.)
Please excuse my presumption, but as a 20-year Wendy’s employee who loves 2-in-1 shampoo/conditioners and collecting mass quantities of take out menus and organizing them in a folder in my kitchen, I think I am qualified to speak on behalf of every American. I’ve taken the liberty of drawing up a list of changes that I think would really make America prosper – just some inside info, from me to you.
Change number one: Tell all the homeless people in the US that you’ve found a special island for them among the US properties in the Caribbean where the heroin flows like wine. Board them all onto several Carnivale cruise liners and ship them to various icebergs throughout the Atlantic. Goodbye, disease!
Change number two: Discover a special island among the US properties in the Caribbean where the heroin flows like wine, and allow responsible, non-homeless heroin addicts like myself to vacation there without having to go through the hassle of getting a passport. You don’t need one for Puerto Rico, and really, the Caribbean isn’t much different.
Change number three: Teach dogs to think rationally and speak English (possibly Spanish and Mandarin as well if there’s time), so that they can baby-sit the kids of single moms, thus allowing the moms plenty of time to work 3 minimum wage jobs. You could probably even lower the minimum wage, since they’ll have so much more time to work!
Change number four: Over-the-counter prescription drugs.
Change number five: Free prescription drugs.
Change number six: Create a catapult network so that the elderly can be transported easily, thus saving millions in wheelchair production costs. Network should include only the local bingo hall and hospice. Any elderly person who needs to go anywhere other than those two places is up to something fishy anyways.
Change number seven: Instead of allowing people to waste resources by driving their gas-guzzling SUVs, let people who have always had a childhood fantasy of swimming in a big pool of gasoline put this finite asset to a more humanitarian use.
Change number eight: Finally take the plunge for Universal Healthcare. I mean, after all the poking and prodding we’ve done to their rotting carcasses at Area 51, we really owe the residents of the greater Universe a little something in return.
Change number nine: Allow Americans to distinguish themselves from those smarmy British assholes by adding The Goonies vernacular to grammar school curriculums and insisting that “HAYYOUGUYS” (one word) completely eclipse all other forms of American-English Hellos. (NOTE: no one tell Hugh Grant.)
Finally, Change number ten: Have Doctors put the Cancer thing on hold for a sec in order to create a form of urine that doesn’t burn when it comes out. I’ve been campaigning for this since about 1981, but it’s still yet to receive the attention it deserves. I really can’t believe no one else complains about this.
So there you have it - I tried to pick the most important ones, but I’ve got a whole legal pad’s worth of these gems underneath my mattress. If you’re ever lacking in the creativity department, I’ve enclosed my home phone number where you, or any of your attractive female interns, can reach me at any time.
See you on CNN!
Xoxoxo,
Stewart Cleaver
General Manager, Wendy’s
Plainville, Connecticut
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
I Invite You to Take Advantage of the Best Excuse to Walk Around Like a Geisha
Besides actually being a geisha. Or portraying a geisha in some sort of theatrical presentation. Or fulfilling a sexual fetish.
Anyways, it’s snow and ice.
Anyways, it’s snow and ice.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
I Invite You to Learn 20 New Things About Me!
1. I am so bored at work, LOL. I know 911 dispatchers aren’t allowed to go on Facebook while on duty, but I don’t care because I’m so BORED!
2. I love my girlies! Hi girls, if you’re reading this you must be SO BORED too, LOL!
3. I am in a committed relationship with the love of my life, a little guy by the name of Jose Cuervo. LOL! JK! But not really because I’m actually desperately lonely!
4. I really love indie movies, like The Notebook! Hello, Ryan Gosling in the rain! So buff, yet so tender!
5. I drowned every one of my childhood hamsters in the bathtub! There were six of them total! I planted every one of them under the radiator and pretended to cry when my mom found it! I wailed with such conviction that she never even asked why it was wet she just bought me another one!
6. I love tank tops!
7. When I was a little girl, I really wanted to be one of those people who gives tours of the cheese factory.
8. Sometimes I LOL at things that I don’t even think are funny, just so I’ll fit in with my girlies.
9. I never ROTFL at things that I don’t think are funny, because I’m too strong willed.
10. My girlies and I were the Spice Girls for Halloween, and they made me be Scary because my hair is so frizzy! I was actually really offended!
11. I genuinely miss Gouda, hamster number five. I didn’t really want to drown him, but I was on such a roll.
12. One time at a New Years Eve party, I got confetti up my nose and it hurt so much I cried! And all my girls told me to stop whining that I didn’t have anyone to kiss at midnight, but it really was just the confetti pain!
13. Later that same night I got champagne up my nose, and the bubbles hurt so bad I thought I was actually dying! My girlies told me to stop freaking out just because I was jealous that they all had boyfriends this year and Hank had left me, but it really just was the bubbles!
14. I’ve resented them all ever since! You hear me guys? I hate you all!
15. I am a total Shopaholic. Guilty, as charged! And I like to charge – often! Now I’m thousands of dollars in debt!
16. I told my mom I buried Gouda in the back yard, but actually kept him in a Sketchers box under my bed for a few months! I poked holes in the lid and put hamster pellets in every day, because I refused to accept what I had done!
17. My favorite TV show is Aflac commercials!
18. I couldn’t live without my blackberry, or as I like to call it my crack-berry! Because it’s so addictive! I’m addicted to it, like crack!
19. Sometimes I feel like every day, everything I do and say is a total lie.
20. I think Tostitos Hint of Lime are a complete mid-afternoon lifesaver!
2. I love my girlies! Hi girls, if you’re reading this you must be SO BORED too, LOL!
3. I am in a committed relationship with the love of my life, a little guy by the name of Jose Cuervo. LOL! JK! But not really because I’m actually desperately lonely!
4. I really love indie movies, like The Notebook! Hello, Ryan Gosling in the rain! So buff, yet so tender!
5. I drowned every one of my childhood hamsters in the bathtub! There were six of them total! I planted every one of them under the radiator and pretended to cry when my mom found it! I wailed with such conviction that she never even asked why it was wet she just bought me another one!
6. I love tank tops!
7. When I was a little girl, I really wanted to be one of those people who gives tours of the cheese factory.
8. Sometimes I LOL at things that I don’t even think are funny, just so I’ll fit in with my girlies.
9. I never ROTFL at things that I don’t think are funny, because I’m too strong willed.
10. My girlies and I were the Spice Girls for Halloween, and they made me be Scary because my hair is so frizzy! I was actually really offended!
11. I genuinely miss Gouda, hamster number five. I didn’t really want to drown him, but I was on such a roll.
12. One time at a New Years Eve party, I got confetti up my nose and it hurt so much I cried! And all my girls told me to stop whining that I didn’t have anyone to kiss at midnight, but it really was just the confetti pain!
13. Later that same night I got champagne up my nose, and the bubbles hurt so bad I thought I was actually dying! My girlies told me to stop freaking out just because I was jealous that they all had boyfriends this year and Hank had left me, but it really just was the bubbles!
14. I’ve resented them all ever since! You hear me guys? I hate you all!
15. I am a total Shopaholic. Guilty, as charged! And I like to charge – often! Now I’m thousands of dollars in debt!
16. I told my mom I buried Gouda in the back yard, but actually kept him in a Sketchers box under my bed for a few months! I poked holes in the lid and put hamster pellets in every day, because I refused to accept what I had done!
17. My favorite TV show is Aflac commercials!
18. I couldn’t live without my blackberry, or as I like to call it my crack-berry! Because it’s so addictive! I’m addicted to it, like crack!
19. Sometimes I feel like every day, everything I do and say is a total lie.
20. I think Tostitos Hint of Lime are a complete mid-afternoon lifesaver!
I Invite You to Discover My Meaningful Plans
Before I can fully welcome you to this weblog, I feel it is important that you learn of my meaningful plans.
You see, I, unlike you average upper middle class postgraduate, long to contribute to the world in an effective manner. I have earned my bachelor's degree, traveled through obscure African nations, met several famous dignitaries and attended a tented summer beer-fest. I know a thing or two about this old world. These days no one can go on to wealth, acclaim and good fortune without a little bit of working for others involved. And I’m going to get my piece of this action, if it’s the last goddamned thing I do.
I have seen a million charities, and I do not think it presumptuous to say that I can rock them all. My Ivy league education has given me more skills than these charities would probably know what to do with, and my complete financial dependence on my parents means I have plenty of time to devote to such meaningful ventures, rather than worrying willy-nilly about rent, food, basic survival or any other less meaningful things. Frankly, I've always found it pretty irritating that these charities are out there sucking up all the meaning in the world, without any regard for other people, who might be more interested in large scale light installations and nude Zionist sculpture than ladling soup for cripples. I mean I clearly appreciate the important work of charities and know that they will come to play a crucial role in my meaningful plans, all I’m saying is I just think it’s pretty rich that these guys go around hogging all the meaning by making average citizens feel guilty when they fish change out of the Salvation Army pot on 83rd and Lex in order to finance a chimichanga at the Taco Bell down the street. No offense but 89 cents is not enough to buy even a sprinkling of heroin, and I definitely had plans to pay them back once I sobered up, though I forgot about it and actually just remembered that I did that right now. Still, all the dirty looks from every bell-wielding, ambiguously Asian fake Santa won’t make me feel badly about it.
Anyways I think getting involved with a charity will help me fulfill my dreams of being fulfilled, in a very fulfilling way. I want to go beyond the selfishness that is often associated with my generation, and I know that some slave time with a ladle, rubber gloves, and feigned interest will put me on the path to achieving this. I think I may skip over Salvation Army, in case any of those Asian Santas have astute memories or grudge holding tendencies, as well as any other charity that has anything to do with the homeless. I’m thinking a battered women’s shelter, or something with deaf children – you know, someplace quiet where everyone keeps to themselves.
Though honestly, my five year plan is to own my own charity. I see myself as president and CEO of My Meaningful Charity, an oasis for recent college graduates to feel good about themselves without even having to be in the same room as underprivileged children. My Meaningful Charity will give people the resources they need in order to achieve fulfillment and meaning, without the guilt and shame that comes with your average do-gooder agencies. This will be the final phase of my meaningful plans, allowing all my volunteers to participate in THC-infused sculpture sessions and candle lit yoga, all while accumulating the kind of deep sense of meaning that other charities can offer.
For now I will accept my fate and swallow my pride, cover myself in finger paint and food stamps and garner my meaning the old fashioned way. I will accumulate so much meaning, I will need to rent storage space for it, as it certainly can’t be wedged among my shelves full of important books. Once my plan is complete, my meaning will be rotund and flavorful, like a 17th century beer wench, and I will motorboat the shit out of my meaning. I will swell up with pride when others notice my abundance of meaning, and I will gleefully snub those who busy themselves with less meaningful activities, like Asian Santa dressing-upping.
Anyways I have charts. Would you like to see them?
You see, I, unlike you average upper middle class postgraduate, long to contribute to the world in an effective manner. I have earned my bachelor's degree, traveled through obscure African nations, met several famous dignitaries and attended a tented summer beer-fest. I know a thing or two about this old world. These days no one can go on to wealth, acclaim and good fortune without a little bit of working for others involved. And I’m going to get my piece of this action, if it’s the last goddamned thing I do.
I have seen a million charities, and I do not think it presumptuous to say that I can rock them all. My Ivy league education has given me more skills than these charities would probably know what to do with, and my complete financial dependence on my parents means I have plenty of time to devote to such meaningful ventures, rather than worrying willy-nilly about rent, food, basic survival or any other less meaningful things. Frankly, I've always found it pretty irritating that these charities are out there sucking up all the meaning in the world, without any regard for other people, who might be more interested in large scale light installations and nude Zionist sculpture than ladling soup for cripples. I mean I clearly appreciate the important work of charities and know that they will come to play a crucial role in my meaningful plans, all I’m saying is I just think it’s pretty rich that these guys go around hogging all the meaning by making average citizens feel guilty when they fish change out of the Salvation Army pot on 83rd and Lex in order to finance a chimichanga at the Taco Bell down the street. No offense but 89 cents is not enough to buy even a sprinkling of heroin, and I definitely had plans to pay them back once I sobered up, though I forgot about it and actually just remembered that I did that right now. Still, all the dirty looks from every bell-wielding, ambiguously Asian fake Santa won’t make me feel badly about it.
Anyways I think getting involved with a charity will help me fulfill my dreams of being fulfilled, in a very fulfilling way. I want to go beyond the selfishness that is often associated with my generation, and I know that some slave time with a ladle, rubber gloves, and feigned interest will put me on the path to achieving this. I think I may skip over Salvation Army, in case any of those Asian Santas have astute memories or grudge holding tendencies, as well as any other charity that has anything to do with the homeless. I’m thinking a battered women’s shelter, or something with deaf children – you know, someplace quiet where everyone keeps to themselves.
Though honestly, my five year plan is to own my own charity. I see myself as president and CEO of My Meaningful Charity, an oasis for recent college graduates to feel good about themselves without even having to be in the same room as underprivileged children. My Meaningful Charity will give people the resources they need in order to achieve fulfillment and meaning, without the guilt and shame that comes with your average do-gooder agencies. This will be the final phase of my meaningful plans, allowing all my volunteers to participate in THC-infused sculpture sessions and candle lit yoga, all while accumulating the kind of deep sense of meaning that other charities can offer.
For now I will accept my fate and swallow my pride, cover myself in finger paint and food stamps and garner my meaning the old fashioned way. I will accumulate so much meaning, I will need to rent storage space for it, as it certainly can’t be wedged among my shelves full of important books. Once my plan is complete, my meaning will be rotund and flavorful, like a 17th century beer wench, and I will motorboat the shit out of my meaning. I will swell up with pride when others notice my abundance of meaning, and I will gleefully snub those who busy themselves with less meaningful activities, like Asian Santa dressing-upping.
Anyways I have charts. Would you like to see them?
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