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Monday, November 29, 2010
n shiny black pants and pointy shoes, what's not to like?' The cop kept on giv
Thursday, November 12, 2009
New Moon hysteria...
God I hope it's called New Moon. I've referred to the second Twilight movie as New Moon for like a week now. Wouldn't I be the idiot if it was called Twilight 2 or something?
So I saw a New Moon display at Nordies the other day. They had cardboard cutouts of the wolf and the vampire (Jacob and Edward for those in the know) that you could buy. There were stacks and stacks of them lying around. And then there was the New Moon jewelry station. A whole table devoted strictly to all things Twilight. Fingering through all the "I heart Edward" dogchains, I was tempted to purchase one and wear it everyday to work. You know, for giggles and all. Not at all because I heart Edward or anything. But they were $24 dollars each! And that was the cheapest thing at the "vampires suck (me)!" table. It was shockingly appalling. Luckily they're having a free New Moon party this weekend to make up for it. Thank you Nordies. I have no idea what I'd do without you for my appropriate Twilight fan mania.
Oh and the regrettable part of the shopping experience? There was a tween girl pouring over the jewelry and giving everyone rehashes of the Twilight stories. I had to ask her the wolf's name (Jacob) a couple of times, because my short term memory is shit but to everyone else her information was unsolicited. Poor them.
Monday, November 02, 2009
Turns out G was right...
G is always telling me not to shoot the finger to people while driving. He's always saying one day I'll get more than I bargained for. As an irate driver himself, it turns out he knows of what he speaks.
Two things one should immediately know about me: I'm too stupid to walk away from an aggressive situation and I'm a total wuss. I guess this translates to me having brass balls but punching like a person who doesn't know how to punch (I refuse to say "like a girl"). I'm kind of like my grandfather's rat terrier (rip to both), Bo, as in Bo Diddly, who didn't realize he was a tiny dog. And to be fair, he was triple the size of all his rat terrier brothers, so he came by his complex honestly. Bo was a big barker and growler and all around penis shower. All fine and dandy until he tried to scare away a possum in the yard and the possum wasn't having it. (Aside: this was also the day I realized those damn animals have lots and lots of teeth and thus developed a fear of them.) After much hissing and showing of teeth (by the possum), the dog lost his shit. For those of us watching, it was almost the funniest thing since the bulldog chasing incident of 1999. (That's another story altogether but the visual is Bo trying to jump inside the house, which wouldn't be that hard except he's too afraid to slow down enough to actually make the turn because a bulldog is hot on his heels. They proceed in laps around the house until one of us stops laughing long enough to take pity on him.) Anyway. I was Bo yesterday. And Jackass was the possum.
Short version: Jackass drove badly. I shot the finger. He banged on my car.
Long version: Jackass was driving an old bronco or jeep type of thing (no windows or ceiling) with a long flat bed trailer thing hoooked up. So his bad driving was especially bad driving given his load. I honked my horn at Jackass once he tried to get in my lane and smash my car. It was a bit of a long honk, because hello? The Jackass was trying to run me over. He turns around in his non-car and starts screaming and yelling at me for daring to honk at him. (At this point I probably should have realized I was dealing with a wild animal and it was best not to provoke but refer to the above paragraph and the thing about being stupid.) I waved my hands at him to shut up and move on into my lane if he needed to. See? Nice? He kept yelling while he was attempting to maneuvre lanes, even after I'd told him he could squeeze in in front of me, so I gave him the finger. (FYI, this is the action G is always telling me not to take. I have a prolific finger and use it at will.) Biiiig mistake. Jackass starts to get out of his car. Oops. My bad!
So I dart off in the next lane and go through the light we were waiting at (it was green). I just assumed that was the end of it and was waiting at the next light on the next block, mentally compiling my list for the grocery store. I looked in my rear view mirror and guess who was back? Jackass was pulling his trailer load and driving all over the street in an attempt to get in the lane next to mine. Jackass was driving even crazier than before. Imagine that! He pulls up next to me and definitely gets out of his car this time. He starts pounding on my car window yelling profanities, saying "watch where you put that finger," and spouting various other lovelies.
Still being a smart ass, I picked up my cell phone and showed it to him. Then I mouthed "9-1-1" as I started to push the buttons to show him I was going to call the cops on the crazy person acting a fool at 38th and Lamar. Of course he jumped right back into his jeep thing. That being that, I closed my phone, having had no intention of actually calling 911. I guess he realized I was fucking with him, because he seemed to get even angrier. Now I, personally, have never been called a whore. At least not to my face. But yesterday I was called a whore so much, I actually looked down at my sweater and jeans to verify that no boobs were sticking out or anything, just in case he thought I actually was advertising my body for money. It was just as I'd expected and everything was in place. I guess he wasn't being very accurate with his name calling and was just falling on whatever horrid female insult he could hurl at me.
I thought about giving him the finger a second time, especially when he was loudly lecturing me on my use of hand gestures (in the form of profanity filled screams), but by then my instincts told me to not aggravate the obvious crazy person. Too bad those instincts didn't kick in earlier. But by then the light turned green and he screeched off down the road into crappy car oblivion while I went on to the grocery store to buy my week's worth of lettuce and feta cheese.
If you guys ever come across a jackass in a white jeep/bronco with a TX license plate P48-KJM, tell him I said hi. And give him the finger, from me. Oh and did I mention the load in his trailer was a pink pedi-cab (those bicycle driven cab things)? I think the cosmic joke is on him.
Two things one should immediately know about me: I'm too stupid to walk away from an aggressive situation and I'm a total wuss. I guess this translates to me having brass balls but punching like a person who doesn't know how to punch (I refuse to say "like a girl"). I'm kind of like my grandfather's rat terrier (rip to both), Bo, as in Bo Diddly, who didn't realize he was a tiny dog. And to be fair, he was triple the size of all his rat terrier brothers, so he came by his complex honestly. Bo was a big barker and growler and all around penis shower. All fine and dandy until he tried to scare away a possum in the yard and the possum wasn't having it. (Aside: this was also the day I realized those damn animals have lots and lots of teeth and thus developed a fear of them.) After much hissing and showing of teeth (by the possum), the dog lost his shit. For those of us watching, it was almost the funniest thing since the bulldog chasing incident of 1999. (That's another story altogether but the visual is Bo trying to jump inside the house, which wouldn't be that hard except he's too afraid to slow down enough to actually make the turn because a bulldog is hot on his heels. They proceed in laps around the house until one of us stops laughing long enough to take pity on him.) Anyway. I was Bo yesterday. And Jackass was the possum.
Short version: Jackass drove badly. I shot the finger. He banged on my car.
Long version: Jackass was driving an old bronco or jeep type of thing (no windows or ceiling) with a long flat bed trailer thing hoooked up. So his bad driving was especially bad driving given his load. I honked my horn at Jackass once he tried to get in my lane and smash my car. It was a bit of a long honk, because hello? The Jackass was trying to run me over. He turns around in his non-car and starts screaming and yelling at me for daring to honk at him. (At this point I probably should have realized I was dealing with a wild animal and it was best not to provoke but refer to the above paragraph and the thing about being stupid.) I waved my hands at him to shut up and move on into my lane if he needed to. See? Nice? He kept yelling while he was attempting to maneuvre lanes, even after I'd told him he could squeeze in in front of me, so I gave him the finger. (FYI, this is the action G is always telling me not to take. I have a prolific finger and use it at will.) Biiiig mistake. Jackass starts to get out of his car. Oops. My bad!
So I dart off in the next lane and go through the light we were waiting at (it was green). I just assumed that was the end of it and was waiting at the next light on the next block, mentally compiling my list for the grocery store. I looked in my rear view mirror and guess who was back? Jackass was pulling his trailer load and driving all over the street in an attempt to get in the lane next to mine. Jackass was driving even crazier than before. Imagine that! He pulls up next to me and definitely gets out of his car this time. He starts pounding on my car window yelling profanities, saying "watch where you put that finger," and spouting various other lovelies.
Still being a smart ass, I picked up my cell phone and showed it to him. Then I mouthed "9-1-1" as I started to push the buttons to show him I was going to call the cops on the crazy person acting a fool at 38th and Lamar. Of course he jumped right back into his jeep thing. That being that, I closed my phone, having had no intention of actually calling 911. I guess he realized I was fucking with him, because he seemed to get even angrier. Now I, personally, have never been called a whore. At least not to my face. But yesterday I was called a whore so much, I actually looked down at my sweater and jeans to verify that no boobs were sticking out or anything, just in case he thought I actually was advertising my body for money. It was just as I'd expected and everything was in place. I guess he wasn't being very accurate with his name calling and was just falling on whatever horrid female insult he could hurl at me.
I thought about giving him the finger a second time, especially when he was loudly lecturing me on my use of hand gestures (in the form of profanity filled screams), but by then my instincts told me to not aggravate the obvious crazy person. Too bad those instincts didn't kick in earlier. But by then the light turned green and he screeched off down the road into crappy car oblivion while I went on to the grocery store to buy my week's worth of lettuce and feta cheese.
If you guys ever come across a jackass in a white jeep/bronco with a TX license plate P48-KJM, tell him I said hi. And give him the finger, from me. Oh and did I mention the load in his trailer was a pink pedi-cab (those bicycle driven cab things)? I think the cosmic joke is on him.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Nightmare on My Street - Who Knew?
What to my wondering ears should appear but one Fresh Prince and 8 midi drum riffs? I wonder whatever happened to DJ Jazzy Jeff? And the youtube below is the best. It's some kind of crazy Freddy tribute set to Fresh Prince's Nightmare on My Street. Think about that for a second. A tribute video. To Freddy. Set to a Fresh Prince song. Called Nightmare on My Street. The sheer amount of ridiculousness involved in this piece of genius is what Halloween is all about. And candy.
Enjoy!
Enjoy!
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
I've been in a girl fight...
with myself. I awoke Monday morning to find a huge fingernail scratch down the right side of my face. I vaguely remember something itching in that same area overnight and waking up periodically throughout the night with some horrid, stinging pain. But it wasn't until I looked in the mirror that everything came flooding back. So now I'm in constant pain (not severe but aggravating nonetheless as it's in my smile zone), and people keep asking me who I pissed off, what with the claw marks down my pretty, pretty face.
I keep looking at my fingernails trying to find the culprit. They all feel so soft and smooth though. It's hard to get mad at recently manicured nails, ya know?
I keep looking at my fingernails trying to find the culprit. They all feel so soft and smooth though. It's hard to get mad at recently manicured nails, ya know?
Friday, October 16, 2009
Am still in shock...
I cooked chicken sausages last night. For the first time EVER I cooked them on the stove and the smoke detector did not go off. And not because I took the batteries out like that one time but because I actually cooked them in a nice, normal way. You know, without the burning and such. I am a culinary genius. Bow before my kitchen glory.
Wednesday, October 07, 2009
And then there were... more...
Harrison Ford. I fucking hated that stupid Indiana Jones movie that just came out anyway. If not for Shia, I would have left you and your idiotic crystal skulls to rot in Naziland (or wherever they were).
And the most devastating - Emma Thompson. I can't imagine someone who makes Jane Austen look so, so good could possibly sign something like this. I'm holding out hope a) it's an impostor and/or b) she's just stupid, not heartless.
Sam Mendes. I managed to miss his name originally. I might be stuck watching inane big-budget flicks if all my indie directors keep signing...
People suck. I'm still completely appalled that Natalie Portman would throw paint on my fur but wouldn't give a rat's ass if I decided to rape her little brother and/or son (if she had either). Nice, Nat, nice.
And the most devastating - Emma Thompson. I can't imagine someone who makes Jane Austen look so, so good could possibly sign something like this. I'm holding out hope a) it's an impostor and/or b) she's just stupid, not heartless.
Sam Mendes. I managed to miss his name originally. I might be stuck watching inane big-budget flicks if all my indie directors keep signing...
People suck. I'm still completely appalled that Natalie Portman would throw paint on my fur but wouldn't give a rat's ass if I decided to rape her little brother and/or son (if she had either). Nice, Nat, nice.
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