All About Me

Gross Story You’ll Wish You Hadn’t Read

Wednesday, August 21st, 2013

You remember the movie “Something About Mary”?

Allegedly, I’m Mary.

One of my male friends – the one who made the original comparison and also gave me the nickname “Magical Ass.” You Know Who You Are. And thanks for nothing. And sorry, Dad. – looooooooooves to say “there’s something about Vanessa!” in an all-too-chirpy and enthusiastic tone. He’s also mentioned that he “didn’t want to be in a relationship for about a decade… until I met you” and no, we are not in a relationship or romantically involved but yes, I guess he speaks from “something about Vanessa” experience.

I heart you, You Know Who You Are.

So anywho, this is not about me and my superpower of making people crush out.

This is more in line with “things I tell people who are crushing out to help them get a grip.”

Like how I have three cases of sardines on Amazon subscription order and regularly eat them for breakfast right out of the can.

And not the good ones I love because I’m cheap and a broke ass writer (thanks for the beer. AHEM. Not talking to you, Dad. You’re the tops. But the rest of you? You Know Who You Are.), but I deal because I’m a tough cookie and stoic in the face of mediocrity like that.

And how I think daily showers are overrated.

And that I don’t remember the last time I cleaned said shower.

And how two years in Hawaii has hardened me to the degree that I will KILL A COCKROACH WITH MY BARE HANDS.

Don’t even dare me. Don’t even look at me sideways. It’s gonna happen before your eyes can go all askance, let alone before the words are out of your mouth.

I ‘m a straight ninja roach killer.

And that’s disgusting.

What about how I’ve been known to pull entire, still-in-their-wrapper (bastard!) sticks of butter out of my dog’s throat (he morphs into a boa constrictor when he knows you’re coming for something he just stole)…and put it back in the fridge… and use it.

What?

Like you wouldn’t.

Anywho, this tale will join the list of “Please stopping thinking you want to marry me. I’m seriously insane.” tall tales.

So the other night I ran my dishwasher and something I apparently didn’t properly pre-wash (have the dog lick shiny clean first) backed up in the whosit whatsit and the net result was that one side of my sink was filled with this dark gray (seriously. Bordering on black. It was wild. The Ganges wishes it could get its hands on the contents of my sink.) water.

I ran the garbage disposal and no love, so I did what any rational woman living alone and with no handyman skills whatsoever would do… and ignored it for three days.

Maybe four.

And then it started to smell weird and I accidentally dropped a spoon in it which caused the fetid liquid to splash onto my Batman shirt in a most uncool and rancid manner, and I realized it was time I Google the problem.

Lo and behold, it turns out a plunger will fix this mess.

But I am a rational woman living alone and with no handyman skills whatsoever and who only takes petite, polite, smell-free dumps, so what would I need a plunger for?

Then I briefly thought about borrowing one from a local establishment (I know. Right? WTF is wrong with me?) but it turns out the two places I looked don’t have plungers for the borrowing – which I now thank my lucky stars for. What was I going to do? Tuck a poop-stained plunger in my shirt? And then repeat that when I returned it??? – so I ended up buying one at Wal-Mart last night.

Turns out a plunger only costs five dollah.

Even on Maui.

Land of the jacked up prices.

Well, probably where you are it costs a buck fiffy, but still.

Cheap plunger in hand I came home, ordered the pets to stand back, and proceeded to splash this vile, dry heave-inducing liquid all over the place (and the dog LICKED IT OFF THE COUNTERS AND CUPBOARDS. No lie.) and on my person, but I was like a dog with a cupboard covered in hideous, monstrous, toxic water with that situation and eventually I triumphed.

My sink now runs free as nature intended.

And, no, you do not want to marry me.

Or live with me.

Or smell the laundry currently in my hamper.

Or maybe even come over for dinner, because it’s very likely that whatever I cook you spent some time inside my dog’s non-discriminating and quite possibly disease-ridden mouth first.

Don’t say you weren’t warned.

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Dreams where my friends kill me

Monday, June 17th, 2013

So a few months back I had a dream that my friend, Trish, killed us in a car crash. I woke up incensed and texted her this.

“JEEBUS CHRIST. I just awoke from a dream that you were driving us on an 8-lane freeway bridge and got distracted by something and hit the guard rail and we went into this major spin and ended up on the other side of the highway. For a brief second it looked like maybe this was a survivable situation, but then the guard rail on the side we were now on gave way and we started to fall the 200 feet to the water below. You said “we’re out” followed by (so you) “Love you!” and I unlocked the door and put my hand on my seatbelt in case living was an option, but then it all went white and I knew we were dead.
Seriously, JEEBUS CHRIST.
And fuck you! Haha”

I still remember this dream as vividly as though it really happened.

My one condolence – well, minus the fact that my super lovable and most excellent friend both didn’t die/kilis us and is still around for me/the world to enjoy – is, if I did die this way, I think I’d be pretty calm seeing as I’ve been through dream versions of if dozens of times now. :/

For years and years the dream was that I drove off a cliff.

In the last six months it’s that I’m the passenger and someone I know, love and trust accidentally (or incidentally out of some otherwise charming nuance of their personality) kills us with a motor vehicle.

***DISCUSS***

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In short and while high on caffeine

Friday, November 12th, 2010

Let me level with you here: I have less than two hours in which to write this, wash my hair, and then go to Bank of America and close my account (screw you, bastards! I’m finally free of your outrageous monthly fee!) before taking the pets to their annual check up at the vet. All of this is fine except for the washing of the hair which I am (and I should probably not put this into writing, but here goes nothing) historically really lax about and often push off to tomorrow what I could wash today.

My new hair...or half of it, anyway

The problem is, I got a new short haircut on Monday, and now it looks incredibly, horribly DIRTY. Now, don’t get me wrong, I am no stranger to really dirty hair, it’s just that I put some dry shampoo on it and put it into a bun or a French twist or a ponytail…but now there’s not enough. I can’t hide my laziness. My slovenly tendencies are out there for all the world to see: I have to face the fact that the situation can no longer be swept aside, and I must go wash it or be mistaken for Corey Feldman.

Have you seen the cover of the DVD for the Lost Boys II with him on it looking all old and awful? I spotted it while waiting in line for the Redbox last week and actually started laughing out loud.

Good grief. He must be seriously hard up for cash. (Not that I’m not. Makers of Lost Boys III: call me! I do a great Corey Feldman impression! Or the dead one: the other Corey. I can take a whirl at being him too.)

So, simply put, this is the only blog post you’re going to get today: a lament about how I need to go and wash my hair before I go and wash my hair. Oh, and a photo of half of of my new hair. You’ll just have to imagine the other side. Let me give you a hint: it’s even better.

(No, it isn’t.)

Please note: if you like said new hair less than my old long hair (and you know who you are people who told me you preferred my hair before the last time I cut it!) remember what your mother should have taught you: if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything.

Namaste.

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I’m afraid of the iPhone

Wednesday, November 19th, 2008

flash-on-iphone

Have you seen the ads about the apps for the iPhone? How about the one where if you don’t know a song, you hold the phone up to the source and within seconds it tells you what’s playing and where to buy it? And I don’t mean you hold the phone up to your iPod or some other device that the iPhone is designed to ‘talk’ to. I’m saying you hold it up to your car radio or TV or the ceiling of the Gap and it figures it out. It’s call Midomi, and it scares me.

I think this could be the beginning of one of those ‘end of days’ scenarios where the computers take over and we’re just hanging out in liquid-filled cocoons providing them battery power.

Don’t panic just yet though. There are still plenty of harmless (if not a little stupid) apps out there:

Sonic Lighter – although there are apparently almost a dozen free lighter apps, people can’t wait to pay $.99 for Smule’s Sonic Lighter. Apparently they’ve built in social and viral features such as the option to share your geographic location information with the application, and when you light it you show up on a virtual earth-like globe. The longer you leave it on, the more “kilojules” you burn, and now teams are competing to be the brightest on the globe. Someone needs to get France and Japan some more entertainment, because they’re apparently leading the pack at this. Oh, and you can blow on the microphone and extinguish the flame, which I must admit is beyond cool.

Ocarina – the same company has now introduced Ocarina, which apparently allows you to be a one-man Peruvian band with just your phone. It’s named after an ancient flute-like wind instrument, and lets you play those haunting, South American-esque tunes by blowing into the iPhone microphone and hitting the virtual buttons. Moreover, you can hit a button and listen to what other Ocarina users are playing around the world. It’s social music, and probably the beginning of a whole new arm of the virtual connectedness that marks this century.

zw0upsil9e062ry4uijqKoi Pond – This is a virtual fish pond where you can change the water color, amount of fish, lily pads in the pond, the different animal sounds you hear, and switch it from day to night. You can shake the iPhone and feed the fish, tap the pond to scare the fish, or leave your finger in and watch them eventually swim up to you. Nothing else happens. You don’t get smarter. You still have no idea what string theory is. You don’t make business contacts. But who doesn’t love koi?

Oh, and get this! Remote turns your iPhone into a remote control for your computer. This app lets you pause, fast-forward or rewind anything you’re watching or listening to, or switch to a different playlist. It also operates the ‘Apple TV’, a device that sends music, photos and movies from your computer to your television. Wow.

And last, but not least, Shozu. When you take pictures with the iPhone’s built-in camera, Shozu links the phone with sites like Flickr and your blog and posts them right away. This would’ve been a lifesaver on my backpacking trip, when I never had enough bandwidth to get the pictures loaded in under an hour. I may just have to start a blog-based fundraiser to finance one of these before the next big trip!

So as it happens, all this talk about these apps makes me want an iPhone. Bad.

I don’t care that the phone is transmitting information back to an unknown source and that it’s occasionally scary and may signify the downfall of the human race. Bring on SkyNet and the rise of the machines! As long as I can play my electronic pan flute, I don’t care!

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Bring on the thought police

Tuesday, November 18th, 2008

fp938openb So yesterday someone was telling me about a doll that allegedly spouts pro-Islamic messages. My friend was meeting with a customer, the father of young girls, who had a doll in the office that kept repeating a ‘subversive’ message.

What’s that you say? Color me intrigued. Are the good people at Fischer Price actually Islamic fundamentalists!? The same people who created the beloved “Little People” of my youth!? Did anyone else have the Sesame Street set seen here? I seriously just had a a portion of my life flash before my eyes just looking at this picture.

Anywho, so as not to prime you into hearing something (because if I tell you what you’re listening for, you’re much more likely to hear it), go ahead and see what you think:

If you ask me, I really can’t tell what the doll is saying except “light” or “night” or “right” or something like that at the end. Otherwise, it sounds like babble. Annoying babble. And I think maybe she told me to rob a bank and send half the money to the NRA, but I could be imagining that part.

However, a lot of people think the doll is saying, “Islam is the light,” and they are FREAKING OUT. A small sampling of the reactionary knee-jerk (and poorly spelled) insanity from YouTube brings us such nuggets as:

  • “This doll obviously says “Islam is the light.” I can’t believe people aren’t fighting to get this trash out of America!”
  • “It definately says “Islam is the Light”!!! This is disgusting and outrageous! They startin to poison our children’s minds with this bullshit!”
  • “Well, it definitely says “Islam is the light”. Obviously another form of jihad. Outrageous.”

As for the comment about America, aren’t we a melting pot where everyone is welcome? “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble….etc.”

Personally, I think a nice heavy dose of tolerance is a good idea. If I had a kid, I’d run right out and buy them one of these. In fact, what I’d like to see is the “God – in whatever form you perceive Him or Her to be – is great” doll, which perhaps features a series of phrases like:

Islam is the light

Hinduism is hot

Rasta is remarkable

Buddhism is brilliant

Judaism is joyful

Christianity is cool

Shintoism is the sh*t

Paganism is powerful

Why not give atheism a try?

and then back around again to “Islam is the light.”

This idea you can have for free. I’ve got more important projects to work on. Like deciphering the Satanic messages in Stairway to Heaven (played backwards, of course).

p.s.

Semi-random thought: I wonder if you played some kind of intentionally dark, Satanic death metal backwards if you’d get a hymnal or part of Paul’s letter to the Corinthians?    ;)

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