Posts Tagged ‘funny storytelling’

Have remote, will travel

Friday, July 17th, 2009

(Sorry about that, folks. I like to keep you guessing as to my alive/dead status.

Actually, I wrote an entire entry and *thought* I posted it two days ago. Then yesterday I felt really crappy and didn’t have the energy to publish the post I’d written. And then today Brad complained that I hadn’t blogged in a while – thank you, Brad, - and I was very irritated that ‘since when is two days a long while?’ and then it dawned on me that once again the blog had outsmarted me.

She’s tricky like that. Yes. It’s true. After a year and a handful of months, I’ve come to view the blog as a sentient being, one who is slightly interested in causing me pain, even though technically my pain is her pain and I have the power to destroy her. But enough about that…

Here’s the post you didn’t see but I thought you saw. And yes, I am still alive.)

 

Sheesh.

I thought we were bad.

 

But it turns out the Mexicans have not one, not two, but THREE channels dedicated to 24/7 Michael Jackson coverage. One of them appears to be running the American memorial service in constant rotation (and subtitled). One of them seems to be playing constant concert footage. The last is focused on a mix of the two.

It seems to be they miss the King of Pop more than the Americans.

To get to the bottom of this, I went to Google and performed some searches and…nothing. Not a single thing.

However, I did find some theories that he was transgendered, which is kind of interesting…and not entirely out of the question.

I also found this photo where they did that aging thing they do on missing kids where there’s an approximation of what he might have looked like if he didn’t decide to go the space alien route.

michel_jackson_nextnature_before_and_after_5301

Anyway, and in other news, there’s other TV to discuss!

 

Taking a little tour, on de pelicula:

 

The next time someone takes a picture of me, I'm going to attempt to make this face.

The next time someone takes a picture of me, I'm going to attempt to make this face.

Black and white film featuring Hitler sobbing and holding a baby in a blanket. Some lady is now outside the door trying to talk him down, and he’s listening and making a face an awful lot like Napoleon Dynamite’s Uncle Rico thinking about being weightless, in the middle of the ocean, surrounded by tiny little seahorses.


Now Hitler has opened the door and handed the baby to the lady. They sobbed together for a while, and now she’s walking away with the child.

Now she’s laid the blanket on a bed and it looks really long and odd, and I’m not even sure it’s a baby. Maybe it’s dead baby? Or a blanket-wrapped leg? Or a blanket wrapped around a log?

Mysterioso.

 

Jennifer Lopez’s husband is on channel 11. He has a funky chicken/frog leg dance, and a large old people following. The whole front row is full of elderly women swaying precariously.

 

Channel 10 is a talk show called Netas divinas, and they’re talking way too fast for me to catch much of it. Maxine Woodside – the queen of radio – is the guest. Trying to translate is giving me a headache…so I quit.

 

Channel 7 is the news, which I actually wish I could interpret. They keep cutting to scenes of the (scary) Federales marching around, and that can never be good. Plus, I’ve heard the country has been extra uncivilized since I got here…which is why I pretty much haven’t left the resort ‘compound.’

Let me rephrase that, since the harrowing 12-hour drive to the resort compound (which I was told would take five hours), I haven’t left it.

 

Channel 5 has some movie featuring Leslie Nielson dubbed over in Spanish. Leslie = not funny = not interested.

 

Harry Potter translated into Spanish on Channel 4. Enough already. Has no one heard of subtitles?

Young Harry really was a homely kid, eh?

Next up, we’ve got Alf dubbed in Spanish.

I’m actually a little stunned to see anyone on earth is watching Alf in 2009, but whatever floats your boat.

 

Moving on…Jesuscristo. I just realized there are 114 channels.

 

I guess I’ll quit while I’m ahead, and let you know that I’ve found something in English featuring Nicholas Cage (and before the really bad toupee years) at war, and I’m sticking with it.

 

With that, let’s take one more gander at MJ and wonder how it all went so wrong (I, for one, am looking forward to that movie. I think the alien from American Dad is a shoo-in for the role of the adult Michael.)

I'm sure this seemed like a good idea when he first got started, but you kind of half to wonder why no one ever stepped in and mentioned he no longer looked human?

I'm sure this seemed like a good idea when he first got started, but you kind of half to wonder why no one ever stepped up and mentioned he no longer looked human?

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Oh hellz yeah

Sunday, July 5th, 2009

I have to admit it.

I hate to admit it.
But I have to admit it.

I love me some crazy.

Sure, I enjoy the occasional weird or strange or bizarre, but deep down, at the end of the day, I’m all about the crazy. When I was getting my psychology degree, I took every abnormal psych class they had. And I would pester the professors for real-life, worst case scenario stories; the crazier, the better.

That’s probably why I was totally over the Michael Jackson death news coverage. His mom, his ex-wife, Diana Ross, Neverland, the poor kids who didn’t think looked like him due to their glaring whiteness, but everyone else said had his nose or eyes or something. Yeah yeah yeah…

But what’s this?

Diprivan?

Some kind of mind-blowingly dangerous instantly unconscious sedative!?

Some kind of mind-blowingly dangerous instantly unconscious sedative that can only be administered by an anesthesiologist!?!?

TRAVELING with your own, personal anethesiologist on tour?!?!!??!!!??

Coma by night, jazz hands by day.

Wow.

That’s f-ing CRAZY.

And I kind of love it.


Thanks Wacko Jacko.

I should have known I could count on you.

No one on anything less than sixteen not-to-be-combined substances could dance like that.

Last year I had a surgery on my bladder, and there was a MAJOR build-up around the anesthesiology part.

I literally was counseled for around 10 minutes that I could wake up in extreme emotional distress and thinking I was a panther or Courtney Love and did I have anything weighing on me that I wanted to talk about now, before they put me under?

(I was so seriously stressed that by that idea. I thought I might confess to killing Kennedy or something.)

Anyway, I don’t know what they used, but here’s how the day went (so that we can all vicariously pretend to be Michael Jackson).

I had to quit eating at 10pm the night before.

  • Kind of worked and mostly fretted all day.
  • My procedure was scheduled for 3:15pm, and arrival at the hospital was at 2:30pm.
  • Sat in chair.
  • Time passed.
  • Someone came to get me, and realized that no one had taken my blood.
  • Blood-taking lady was kind of mean.
  • I was so hungry I could cry.
  • Aforementioned counseling about hte ravages of anesthesia and a general disussion about kayaking (unrelated).
  • Anesthesiologist was named Dr. Wolf and he’d recently been to Africa and I liked him a hell of a lot better than my bitchy urologist.
  • Sat in bed a nervous wreck waiting to wheeled into operating room and drooling over the smell of toast because it was now 4:15pm and I was insanely hungry.
  • Woke up in serious pain…and hungry, but not hysterically crying or confessing all my deep, dark secrets.
  • I don’t recall whether I felt rested or woozy or groggy or anything, because everything was eclipsed by the pain. (It was a procedure where apparently not everyone wakes up hurting, so they wait until you wake up to determine if you’re going to need pain medication.)

Ate toast, and learned my surgeon had long gone home without ever even seeing or talking to me. Nice.

So there you have it!

Anesthesia ROCKS!

(or maybe it doesn’t?)

This also leaves me wondering: Did he ever eat?

You have to starve before getting anesthesia so that if it makes you puke, you don’t choke to death on the ham sandwich you had for lunch. If he did this every night, when the hell did he eat!?

I guess that explains the Skeletor physique…

Meanwhile, the year before last I had to have a gum transplant (where they cut a chunk out of the roof of your mouth and attach it to your gums by your molars) and they gave me this pill beforehand and it was HEAVEN.


I was blissed out and doped up but without any ill-feeling side effects and my brain would notice something and then quickly move back to just spacing out. It was like achieving Zen without even trying.

I remember the procedure…but not really. I remember it as a very hazy series of moments.

I basically just sat there and thunk happy thoughts whilst they sliced and diced my mouth. And although that sounds awful and probably was awful, I honestly kind of remember it like a good day.

What am I trying to say?

If I ever get super rich and super crazy, I’m demanding some of that stuff. Stat.

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Another one bites the dust

Monday, April 13th, 2009

This is apparently a shower curtain for sale at fine retail establishments near you.

This is apparently a shower curtain for sale at fine retail establishments near you.

I’m a laptop serial killer.

 

 

 

 

In addition to my two and a half-year old Dell laptop (still at the shop with a promise that they’ll tell me what’s wrong by tomorrow night), there is persistent keyboard wackiness with my ASUS EEE (note to self: Troubleshoot that before the warranty runs out) and now the same insanity has manifested on my old Dell ‘Inspiron’ laptop.

 

The old Dell doesn’t get much use typically, and I think it (mistakenly) thought it could enjoy its retirement. Truth be told, it’s the backup for the backup, but with the total death of the new Dell and the issues with the ASUS, it’s back on call…and none too happy about it.

 

Truth be told, the old Dell has about a third of the keyboard exposed and naked (kind of like a cyborg with some of the flesh ripped off) because Dozer ran across it a few times when he was a puppy, sending keys flying in his wake.

That was a known handicap, and I’d been working around it for the last week.

 

However, today, mid-way into my tax preparation efforts, the old Dell started acting remarkably like the ASUS. When I tried to backspace, it ended up typing capital “V”s into eternity. For a while there, it was trying to launch CMD prompts and giving me error messages in French.

It’s settled into a happy place of partial ruin, and now a whole bunch of the keys just don’t work at all.

(more…)

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Addiction: It’s not just for controlled substances anymore

Wednesday, February 25th, 2009

Move over Narcotics Anonymous, there’s a new obsession in town.

 

Facebook A way to connect or gateway drug?

Facebook: A way to connect or gateway drug?

Cops: Man tries to steal laptop to check Facebook

BRADENTON, Fla. – Sheriff’s officers said a 19-year-old man snatched a Starbucks customers laptop after being told he could not use it to check his Facebook account. According to officers, the man then grabbed the customer’s laptop and ran out of the coffee shop, located in an outlet mall.

Two people in the parking lot tackled the man and held him there until a mall security guard arrived.

The victim got his laptop back and the man was charged Saturday with robbery by sudden snatching, a felony.

 

 

Clearly this man is suffering from Facebook Addiction.

I understand. I’ve danced too close to the flame.

 

We’ve all been there: Bleary-eyed at 2am, confirming friend requests from the boy who threw grape juice on you in nursery school, and setting up profiles for your dog. That’s normal.

 

I once had this crazy employee who was obsessive about eating healthy and organic EXCEPT she loved Strawberry Pop Tarts. And then if you had to give her a bad annual review I

Is it me, or are these just awful???

 

It’s when you form a group under the precedent that you will do something asinine and inadvisable if so many people join, or cannot make a move without documenting it on your page, that the trouble begins. You’ve seen the symptoms. You might even be friends with an addict. You know them; the people who are senselessly compelled to post their every boring thought or activity, all day long:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

John is…hitting the snooze alarm

John is…awake

John is…brushing his teeth

John is…thinking maybe Cheerios for breakfast

John is…eating a Pop Tart

John is…realizing he burned his tongue while eating a Pop Tart

John is…writing an angry letter to the makers of Pop Tarts

John is…switching to Toaster Strudels indefinitely

 

 

Or maybe they’re just just valiantly completing their ‘25 random things’ while the kids go unbathed and dinner burns on the stove, under the misguided impression that they’re interesting or anyone actually cares.

 

But speaking of caring, the grand finale of Top Chef is on tonight, and I’ve got a novel to write that isn’t exactly going to finish itself (unfortunately), so between those obligations and my Facebook duties, I really don’t have any more time to pontificate on this here blog. Talk amongst yourselves…

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One more spa treatment the world doesn’t need

Tuesday, February 24th, 2009

Add this to butt masks and caviar facials: If you people have this much money to burn, I am here for you day or night. When you need to lighten the load in your wallet, just call Vanessa. 

Baby needs a new pair of shoes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Vomit...rising...toward...mouth......

Fish pedicure banned in Florida

Fish pedicures — the use of tiny, live carp to clean feet — have been made available in several Florida cosmetology salons in recent months. The treatment is popular in Asia and has spread to some U.S. cities. A client sticks feet, hands or other body parts in a bowl or pool, and the small fish chow down on soft decaying skin.

Now, Florida is banning the practice.

The Florida Board of Cosmetology, housed within the Department of Business and Professional Regulation, determined that fish pedicures are not permitted in salons because they violate two previously standing rules: one that prohibits animals or pets (excluding animals trained to assist the hearing impaired, visually impaired or the physically disabled) in salons and another that sets the standards for pedicure sanitation requirements.

If salons are found performing fish pedicures, the salon and the cosmetologist may be subject to citations and fines, a release said.

In the months since the pedicure practice first became popular, several states have banned it, including Texas, Washington, Massachusetts and New Hampshire.

 

 

Note to Florida Board of Cosmetology:

How about the third and most obvious reason to ban this?

It’s lose-your-lunch disgusting.

You couldn’t pay me to stick my feet in a tank full of flesh eating fish.  The picture alone makes me flinch.

 

 

If you can't feast on the one you love, love the one you're with. These are the little freaky manucurists of Cape Clear Island.

The freaky manicurists of Cape Clear Island and their can-do attitude: If you can't feast on the one you love, devour the one you're with.

You know, I’m disappointed in you, America. I thought this kind of weirdness was limited to Ireland. While there, I was offered a strikingly similar exfoliating treatment for free. (I can’t remember if I told you guys this at the time, so bear with me if it’s old news, because I’m telling this story again anyway):

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In August, when I was in Cape Clear off the south coast of Ireland, the ferry boat driver told us that if you went swimming in Loch Ioral, on the east side of the island, you could receive a free pedicure (or Turkish bath, if you were so inclined). Apparently it was filled with thousands of tiny insects (I could swear he said insects. From the looks of them, they might be some kind of shellfish though? A mini crayfish or something?) that would eat off your dead skin. Yum.

 

 

Horrified and simultaneously intrigued, I headed straight to the lake, immediately noticing the ‘no swimming’ signs posted all around it. Unwilling to sacrifice a precious limb, I threw my apple core in instead. Within minutes, the equal opportunity parasites were swarming on the thing like soldiers on the beach in Normandy. “Just eat dead skin,” my ass. I think those babies would eat straight through to the marrow if given a chance. Why else the ‘no swimming’ signs?

 

 

Shudder. I wouldnt want to run into this thing in a dark alley.

Shudder. I wouldn't want to run into this thing in a dark alley.

Moreover,  I don’t know if we should be giving fish ideas like this. The Chinese have already introduced the missing link, rat-eating, landlubber; the Snakehead fish. Do we really need that thing developing a taste for human flesh? It’s a horror movie waiting to happen.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Case in point, the other night on a lark, I invited my dog onto the couch. He’s three years old and has never (at least not so far as I have born witness) had all four paws on the couch. Well, one evening eradicated over three years of semi-training and pseudo-discipline: he now thinks he OWNS the couch. You’ll be sitting on the couch, and he’ll get on up simply because he feels like it, and then if you make a sudden move or loud noise, he’ll sit up and look at you, delivering a piercing and intolerant gaze that seems to say, “Hey, Idiot. Keep it down over there. Some of us are trying to sleep.”

 

You give them an inch, or a job in a nail salon, or five minutes on a couch, and they’ll take a mile.

 

 

 

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