Archive for the ‘NaBloPoMo 09’ Category
Tuesday, November 24th, 2009
So, I know that no one really likes to be made fun of. However, I am sure we all participate, on some level, in busting on the people we care about for sport and entertainment. In return, I am sure we all take our fair share of pokes back.
(Oh, by the way? When I say things like “I’m sure that we all…,” I’m pretty much deaf to people coming along and saying that they’re completely different from the sweeping generalization that I’ve made. It’s a problem, I know, and I totally intend on having it checked out when convenient and selective deafness stops being so beneficial to me.)
Anyway, as I was saying, we all know that making fun of one another is the best way to show affection. I mean, Phil and I? FULL OF AFFECTION. So, in the course of busting on each other all day, every day, there is occasionally a insult so stinging and so brutal that it not only burns, but is also hilarious and must be appreciated for the brilliance that it is.
For example, one time, Phil and I were sitting in the Wendy’s drive through, and I was buckling myself back in my seat after climbing over him for a clear view of the drive through menu. In the course of conversation, I asked him,
“Well, don’t you think any other guys would date me?”
“There are plenty of guys who would date you–”
“Aww–”
“– for very short periods of time.”
“Oh… wow. Sick burn!”
It is also evident within my family, as evidenced by my Christmas post from a couple of years ago.
6:45am
Kate: *opens gift of really nice dress pants* Oooooh, ahhhh, etc.
TJ: Oh wow! Those are perfect for delivering pizza!
Kate: *glares, pulls a tiny tank top out of gift box* Oooh, look at this little tank top. This will fit perfectly on my tiny little body. *pointed look at TJ* Don’t start something you can’t finish, SISTER.
TJ: Like when you started growing boobs?
Kate: … *blink*… I can’t even be mad. That was too good.
Parents: *muffle laughter so as not to encourage a Christmas throwdown before 8am*
(You should know that she no longer delivers pizza. She now manages the pizza.)
So, obviously, by these two pieces of evidence related directly to me specifically, I can obviously draw the conclusion that we all appreciate an excellent burn as much as we enjoy making them.
And I’ve got to be honest. This post has an ulterior motive. Phil has two weeks off of work (Hi! If I owe you email or a kidney or interview questions or some other such thing? Please lay your blame at his feet, because how dare he take days off work when he knows full well it throws me completely off my routines) and… wait, what? I’m just going to back out of this paragraph and start again.
So, Phil has two weeks off of work, and I don’t want to deplete my entire stocked up burn pantry due to over exposure to my significant other. So spill it, Internet. I would like to hear your sick burns. You know, the ones you had to appreciate when they were at your expense, or the ones so perfectly clever and crafted that the target had to admit its awesomeness. I want to hear your best examples, whether you be the burner, or the burnee.
Posted in daily BS, NaBloPoMo 09 | 24 Comments »
Monday, November 23rd, 2009
So today, going by some of the advice in my last post, Phil and I decided to take Brinkley out to the park at the end of the block and make him run in circles until he hated us, but was also too exhausted to express his hatred through destruction of my belongings.
Unfortunately, it was the most poorly timed walk in the history of the world, as not only were two guys on huge mowers tearing across the grass all willy nilly with no thought for what was sure to be an inevitable collision and flying limbs, but also, school had just let out, apparently, and hordes upon hordes of kids were streaming across the park.
At least, as we approached the park, it appeared that kids were crisscrossing through it to reach their homes, but as we got closer, there were definitely two distinct groups of teenagers approaching each other.
With MENACE.
So, apparently? I’ve turned into the middle point between young-but-old-enough person and old lady with regard to teenagers. When faced with one or two teenagers, I find myself to be young-but-old-enough to roll my eyes at them and their shenanigans because, come on, they don’t even realize how ridiculous they are and take themselves so seriously! I used to do that!
But I’m also verging on old person because when faced with teenagers in a pack formation, like today? I asked Phil if he had his phone and was ready to ruin some teenage fun by calling the police. Because they were advancing on each other. Menacingly. I am old lady enough to find teenagers menacing.
To be fair, there was like six or seven or maybe even eight hundred of them. Not really. But it seemed like it. Not really. I’m just trying to paint a mental picture for you that is both accurate and doesn’t make me look like a weenie. Let’s just agree that there was a SIGNIFICANT AMOUNT of teenagers.
So anyway, these two groups of teenagers are like, inching towards each other, and nothing at all is happening, so we start looking around for a place for Brinkley to play without being chased down by the Willy Nilly Mowing Co. and all of a sudden, across the park, the teenagers suddenly just converge into an arm waving knot of half-grown bodies. We didn’t even hear or see anything, it was like someone blew the teenager version of a dog whistle and they all ran to the center of what they had all silently but unanimously decided was to be the center of their action. All at once.
(You can’t even get one teenager to like, clean their room, but you can get 800 of them to act in synchronization with no audible cue? It’s like teenagers are almost as complicated as they’d like to believe they are.)
So there’s all these arms waving, and this looks pretty dramatic because keep in mind that six or seven or eight hundred teenagers have up to SIXTEEN HUNDRED ARMS to wave, but it soon became clear that in the middle of this teeming mass were two boys fighting.
So, apparently, something I wasn’t aware of as a teenager, but is suddenly very clear to me as an adult – teenagers fighting with hordes of other teenagers standing around cheering them on is SO NOT COOL. So, Phil called 911. And got a recording, of course. However, just as he was hearing the recording, someone must have blown the teenage whistle again, because they all scattered, all at once. Honestly, if it wasn’t so potentially bloody, it would have been very interesting. They all kind of act as one, those teenagers. We are pretty sure the teenager whistle sounds a lot like a parent yelling “I’M CALLING THE COPS” from her car near the park.
The whole thing seriously lasted less than 2 minutes, and of course the police showed up well after every teenager had cleared out and left nothing behind except a thick cloud of the Asshole Hormone. I don’t know when I started finding large groups of teenagers so menacing, but honesty to pete, what a bunch of fucking hooligans. Not just the two fighting, but the 798 hanging around there egging them on. Coordinated egging, even.
Arizona, I reiterate – your teenagers are assholes. But synchronized assholes, which is actually a little bit cool. Except, they fight, so take away the points I just gave them for being synchronized. So basically? Your teenagers are assholes.
Posted in daily BS, NaBloPoMo 09 | 10 Comments »
Sunday, November 22nd, 2009
I did not grow up in a pet-having household. I’ve had a few pets over the course of the years, mostly fish and small mammal type things. Brinkley is my first experience living with a dog, and as this blog has shown over the last few months, I have taken to life with a dog in a big, unhealthy, obsessive kind of way.
So I know I kind of treat the dog too much like he’s people, but you’ve got to believe me, Internet, when I say that I am pretty sure he’s mad at me. Seriously. He is pissed off. I can TELL.
So, you know, he eats the crotch out of my underpants given the chance, but he’s pretty much always done that since I’ve lived here, that’s just a dog thing, right?
Lately, though, the house has been empty during the day except for me, and I shut myself in the office, because if I don’t, the cats sneak in and chew on wires. So Brinkley gets shut outside the room. And he ate my hat. Hats have been left all around this house his whole life and he’s never eaten one, until he deliberately sought out MINE. I KNOW it.
Since we don’t smoke anymore, he has to go outside by himself to eat and do his business, and I’ve taken to leaving him out there for 15 to 20 minutes every afternoon and walking out of this sight, so he gets used to being alone. So he destroyed a flower fot and threw plastic and soil all over the yard.
Yet given the chance? He hops right up into bed next to me and lays his head on my hip. Or he lays on the ground, clutching my purse between his paws. Or he lays on his pillow and asks me to cover him with my fleece blanket. (Shut up, yes he does.)
So, Internet, I am guessing that Brinkley is going through dog puberty, or whatever, and is extremely conflicted in his feelings towards me. Now, I know it makes him mad, but I know what is best for him and he needs to learn to eat and do his business outside all by himself. And he needs to be able to be left alone in the house without EATING MY HAT that Phil had JUST GIVEN ME as a SURPRISE PRESENT. (I was really kind of ridiculously sad about it.)
He’s all “I hate you so much, I am eating your hat, but then I will snuggle up next to you and hug your purse later.”
How am I supposed to teach a five year old dog not to be such a co-dependent butthead? And to stop eating my underpants? I mean, seriously, he goes right for the business portion of the underpants, and always mine, never Phil’s.
Basically, what I have decided to tell myself is that he just loves me SO MUCH that he’s overwhelmed and confused by it, and really, I can’t be too hard on him about that, because it’s completely understandable.
World’s Most Handsome Underpants Eater
EDIT: ALSO? I forgot to tell you. I have more evidence to support the case that the dog has personal issues with me, PERSONALLY. On the same day he ate my hat? He ate the last two pudding cups, too. And I have TOLD HIM how much I love pudding!
Posted in daily BS, NaBloPoMo 09 | 18 Comments »
Saturday, November 21st, 2009
So, every once in a while this blog, like many blogs, gets a spike of traffic, and I try to remind myself to make a post welcoming all these new readers and putting my best foot forward and showing them how awesome I am right off the bat to entice them to stick around, but I’ve never actually managed to do that and instead end up posting about how I was trying to fall asleep between the sleeping dog and the sleeping Phil and they kept taking turns sleep farting, and my traffic goes back to normal.
That sleep farting thing was just an example of the kind of post I’d write, but it really did happen last night and it was seriously gross and also hilarious.
This blog has picked up a new reader or three over the last two… years. I don’t have an about page, or any links to my favorite posts or anything that gives you any indication at all of what you’re dealing with here, so I have put together this handy sheet of information for you.
Things You May or May Not Have Known About Me but Even if You Did Know, You Should Keep in Mind in Case I Win the Lottery and Start Doing Tons of Giveaways Based on Who Demonstrates the Highest Degree of Creepy Admiration by Rattling off Obscure and Uninteresting Facts About Me.
a list, by TJ
1. First, you should know that I am female, and I am 27. I am very shortly to be 28. That little about me section over to the right will likely continue to say that I am 27 for a very long time. People will make clever comments along the lines of “Oh ho ho, TJ, you have been 28 for 6 whole hours and your blog still says you are 27! I demand you change it!” I will ignore these people, the same way I ignore people who say “Oh ho ho, don’t you mean FIANCE?” whenever I refer to Phil as my boyfriend. Because, come on. Shut up.
2. Phil is my fiance. I met him because he started reading this blog and he sent me an email about how awesome I am. Actually, he sent me a bunch of them. I ignored him for a year, and then we got engaged. Isn’t life funny? Take a lesson here, kids: Internet stalking will pay off if you just KEEP AT IT.
3. I quit smoking 2 months ago. You don’t really need to know that, but I am still extremely aware of that fact. So it was hard to leave it out of this list.
4. I have a sister who wasn’t supposed to know about this blog, but hunted it down and kept the fact that she was reading it a secret for a long time. I caught her when the public library in our hometown popped up in my webstats. She sometimes comments here under the clever handle of “sister.” No one has really picked up on that fact yet.
5. Here is a list of some of my favorite things I have ever written on this blog to cover up the fact that I can’t think of a fifth fact about myself and am feeling really super pathetic about it, and also you should know that the reason it appears that I have written most of my favorite things in the most recent months is because even I don’t want to read that far back in my archives:
And that, Internet, is all you need to know about that.
Posted in NaBloPoMo 09, Somebody's getting maawwweeed, the blogging thing | 9 Comments »
Saturday, November 21st, 2009
“Can I have that yellow pick up truck? It’s for sale.”
“Sure.”
“Really?!?”
“Yep. Just find a way to finish the payments on your car, get rid of your car, and increase your income enough to pay for the payments on the yellow pick up truck.”
“Why do you spend so much of every day coming up with ways to make me want to punch you in the balls?”
Posted in NaBloPoMo 09, TJ + Phil | 4 Comments »
Friday, November 20th, 2009
Ok, Internet, with what I’m going to talk about today, I’m just going to cut you off at the pass right from the start to remove the possibility of getting comments of a certain type that I REALLY hate (and I am also telling you now that to make them anyway will not be NEARLY as clever and funny as you think it would be, because while normally being directly defiant of given instructions or requests is clever and unique and funny and completely original and oh my gosh no one has ever thought of doing that before, today it won’t be. Also, that was sarcasm. It is NEVER any of those things).
Anyway, this isn’t even directed at you, Internet. I mean, it is directed at the INTERNET, but not my Internet, you know, standard Internet. This is directed at potential passers by who aren’t familiar with the level of awesomeness required to be a commenter here. Specifically, it is for the future un-awesome passersby, who seem to leave comments of this type on ancient posts, long past when it’s worth reopening the discussion, but not so long past that I am not supremely tempted to send unreasonably rude emails in response.
Ok, so here is what I am cutting you off from: Today, I am going to talk about wedding dresses. Now, we all know that the wedding industry and other media and folklore-ish sources would purport that all little girls have planned their wedding their whole lives. I am not assuming that is true.
Do you hear that? I am not assuming that because you are female, you’ve always had your dream wedding in mind.
So that means that the comment you want to write, future un-awesome passer by? The one you were going to start off all snottily with, “Actually, I’m a girl and blah blah blah?” It doesn’t apply. Because I’m not assuming that you’ve planned your wedding your whole life. You might have. You might not have.
Look, I understand that you, future un-awesome passer-by, are totally not the typical girl. And that you like video games and cars and are deeply offended by the idea that when you skimmed this post and totally missed the point? It looked like I was saying you planned your future wedding your whole life. And you feel like I NEED TO KNOW that you have a vagina AND are not exactly like every single other woman on the planet.
I get it. You’re practically Fergie, what with that complex personality you’ve got going on. Just, you know, spare me from the declarations of what a unique and special snowflake you are and save it for the 6 men in this world suffering from that unique disease that makes them believe they’re actually living in the 1950s and will actually be impressed with how novel you are.
Anyway, so as I was saying, I’m planning this wedding, you know? And I’ve got the place and I’ve got the DJ and I’ve got the photographer, which are pretty much the big pieces, at least the ones that need to be booked by now to make sure that they’re available for my chosen date.
Now, apparently, looking at all the wedding checklists and such, I am supposed to be dress shopping right now. I mean like, now. As we speak. I’m behind and I’m failing at wedding. However, I am not going to make it to Pennsylvania for Christmas this year, for the first time in my life, and that had been when we were planning on going dress shopping. I’m going to try to get out there early next year, but in the mean time, I suppose I should at least be thinking about what kind of dress I’d like. Because it’s not like Scranton, PA is a hotbed of bridal fashions.
Except, when I try to picture what my dress is “supposed” to look like, I have a complete blank. I haven’t been imagining my wedding my whole life! I mostly imagined I’d die old and alone with cats that would eventually eat off my face when I died in my recliner in front of Murder She Wrote, which will conveniently still be in syndaction somewhere, because there are always going to be old people, thus, always a market.
There are about, oh, I don’t know, 6 billion different options. So far, I am pretty sure I’ve settled on a color.
I’m gonna go with the white.
Other than that? Oh my god, Internet, help me. Straps? No straps? Those little cute shoulder thingies? Do you like this one? How about this jobber? You can’t say you like both, they’re COMPLETELY DIFFERENT. What kind of dress will minimize… everything? Except also make me look really tall without me having to wear heels?
Are people going to laugh at me if I wear white? (I would!)
Actually, this isn’t really a question so much about what kind of dress you like (though if you’ve met me and have a suggestion for what would make my particular lumpy-in-awkward-places body look all kinds of amazing, I’D SO APPRECIATE IT), but more about decision making.
If you’ve got to make a decision, and suddenly realize that not only do you have nothing in mind, but the options are so unbelievably numerous and varied, how do you even go about getting started? I’m suffering from that “too many choices so I’ll just sit here paralyzed” syndrome that I am totally going to submit to medical journals for notoriety and fame in the academic world, as I so richly deserve, because come ON, have you even heard my Tom Hanks Theory? Because that is amazing.
When you have 6 billion choices and no clue how to start… how do you start?
(To be clear, you do not have to feel obligated to help me choose a wedding dress, but can instead address the general decision making process.)
Posted in NaBloPoMo 09, Somebody's getting maawwweeed | 96 Comments »
Thursday, November 19th, 2009
So, Internet, just like last month (actually, it wasn’t a whole month ago because I did it totally late in the month because Phil had my Cosmo in the bathroom), I have here the newest issue of Cosmo for you.
You’re busy people, with jobs and kids and lives, and even Cosmo doesn’t think that you have time to read Cosmo, judging by the page in every issue that sums it up for you so that you don’t have to read that whole thing.
But me, I’m always thinking, and I was even more concerned for you, so I thought, what if you don’t even have time to BUY Cosmo? And that is why I am summing it up for you.
Like last month, I’m just going to turn pages until I come so something interesting. Let’s all just assume there’s 85 pages of advertisements in between.
First of all, we get right to the story about our cover girl, Fergie. Here’s what stood out to me, in the Fergie article:
“You know, in Italy, Catholic boys are raised to believe that there are two types of women: the Madonna and the whore. … And me? I’m both.”
You don’t say, Fergie! You mean, you have like, at least two sides to you? Depth of character? Sometimes you feel one way and other times you feel another way? And you don’t always act the exact same way every single day? Goddamn Fergie, you’ve done it again, giving us ordinary, one-dimensional females something to shoot for. Ladies, we too can have more than one aspect to our personalities!! Thank you, Fergie!
Moving on, this Etsee Lauder ad for Sensuous perfume one, doesn’t smell like magazine pages, and two, isn’t actually half bad and my birthday is in 17 days, just saying.
Next, a one-sheet article on why taken men seem sexier. Oh, I know this one! Because you’re either a whore, like half of Fergie is, or you’re human, and naturally want what you can’t have! Man, if Cosmo was a test on common sense, I would totally win this magazine.
NEWS: Rhianna has changed her hair a bunch of times over her career. So… do what you will with that. Because… yeah.
Hidden Secrets His Hug Reveals. Didn’t we go over this last month, when I told you that no guy is communicating his true feelings by unconsciously forming his hands into the sign language for “I love you?” Yeah, pretty much the same thing. When Phil hugs me, the type of hug is usually dictated by how easily he can reach my boobs.
Instructions on how to turn a one night stand into a relationship? I’m skipping this page for you, Internet. You need to be more like Fergie and stop being 100% whore. She’s only 50% whore, you know.
Fashion section! Let’s see, this month we have… me turning pages really quickly because don’t, oh god don’t, I mean, if you want to wear a blazer, go ahead, but it should not look like any of these. Also? Tight fitting animal print dresses, with very few exceptions, make you look like Fergie’s bad 50%. Also? The whole “Perfect Presents” fashion page? You can buy pretty much all of it on Etsy, so if I catch you paying $32 for stripedey gloves, you’re banned.
Some tips: Holding your phone next to your face all the time will make it break out; Cosmo suggests that to save time, you smudge eye pencil instead of eyeshadow and somehow manage to not look like a battered raccoon late for an AA meeting; also, don’t pick off your nail polish, because it makes you look trashy, and Cosmo doesn’t want you to be seen holding their magazine because it’s ruining their image. I don’t want to have to do this, but it’s directed specifically to you. Yeah, you. Sorry. Cosmo isn’t really thrilled with you lately.
Big article here – Make His #1 Sex Wish Come True! TJ Cliff notes – I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say that having sex with him should pretty much be enough. If you feel like you need to go for extra points, turn on the lights or something. I’m sure he’ll be pleased.
God, this stuff is stupid. I mean, ok, sorry, taking a break for a second here, but how about we all just agree to this? We’ll all go home today and say “Hey, honey, do you have a #1 sex wish, after you filter out all the stuff that is illegal or might make me want to leave you if you say it out loud? Ok, let’s do that.” Damn.
Now here’s a special section, the Guy Love Diaries. They had some guys write down all of their thoughts about their women for some days. I pretty much stopped taking it seriously on the first page of the article, because I read this 3 or 4 days ago and just stopped laughing when they threatened to insert a feeding tube:
“At work, thinking about Sara. When girls get together at showers and bachelorette parties, they usually talk about boys and swap sex techniques. Sara always comes back with new sex tricks and great fellatio.”
I’ll wait until you get yourself under control after reading that.
First, um, men? If you truly think that? I… ah… no. Just… no. Second? Paul, writer of this secret diary? If you are reading this, I suggest you tail Sara the next time she goes “out with the girls” because if she’s coming home with a rack of new sex techniques, she’s not at a goddamn bridal shower. Because just no.
Cosmo wants you to know that they’ve declared it to be officially okay for women to pick up men now, but only if you do it in a bold, daring way like they detail in this article. Walking up, introducing yourself and asking for a number isn’t going to cut it. God, stop being so simple and plain, Internet. Take a lesson from Fergie, who has managed to develop two different parts to her personality.
The Simple Trick That Gets You What You Want – I’m not being fooled into reading this… STEALTH OPRAH. How about work for it? Ok. End. God, this magazine could be like, 6 pages long and I wouldn’t have to do Cliff’s Notes because you could read the whole damn thing in line at the grocery store.
More tips: Save money by NOT having your hair professionally blow dried! Or by shopping holiday sales! Also? If you just magically become less stressed, you’ll be less bitchy. Apparently, Collegehumor.com will help you be less stressed, thus less of a fucking bitch.
Ok, here’s something good. A huge article on the Hidden Danger of Breakups. Thinking about this from a Cosmo/Bridget Jones type angle, the hidden break up danger they probably really want to tell us about, judging by the rest of the magazine, is that if you let yourself go all to hell and don’t buy $32 stripedy gloves or sequined miniskirts, your man will probably leave you and you’re not getting any younger, so you’ll probably be old and alone forever and the entire purpose of Cosmo is to make sure YOU LAND AND KEEP THAT MAN!!! So, don’t make Cosmo out to look like a fool by getting dumped, because Cosmo doesn’t LIKE to be made to look like a fool, if you get my drift.
Cosmo doesn’t. Like. That.
Oh, but apparently, the article is really about how if you break up with a guy, you should probably suspect that he’s about to kill you because that’s what happens according to Cosmo.
If you make them look like a FOOL.
Hey, here’s something actually KIND of good, but I’m only judging it by the title because I don’t want to be disappointed by the article. From the headline and pictures, I’m gonna say that Cosmo agrees with me and thinks that just because you put your M&Ms in color order and put your shoes on right shoe first, it doesn’t mean you have OCD. I mean, some people certainly do have OCD. But it’s pretty likely that you don’t. And you’re just like everyone else who does certain things in certain order because we have been on this earth for like, 20, 30, 40 or more years and we develop HABITS. Not OCD. Get over yourself. Unless you have OCD. Then carry on with your bad M&M counting self.
Aaand I think pretty much the last thing you need to know from this month’s Cosmo is that this winter? We’re all wearing butt cheek showing lingerie outside, especially into dark alleys. That, apparently, is the December fashion.
Do NOT disappoint Cosmo.
Posted in daily BS, NaBloPoMo 09 | 48 Comments »
