The Internet is an amazing tool. There's more information than you can shake a stick at, tons of porn that lots of people shake their sticks at, news of breaking world events, and photos of Britney Spears's most recent trip to Starbucks.
However, with all of this at your fingertips, the Internets, more than anything else, is the place where boredom (tries to) go to die. This blog, twitter, again, porn, and facebook are all online to get us through our work days, entertain us while we stand in line at the grocery, or are sitting in traffic because some idiot went Dukes Of Hazard on an I35 median.
Which all brings me to my primary point, where can I get some really good grocery store porn?! Not really.
But really, why do people so many people suck on facebook? I go to facebook to annoy my friends be entertained, distracted, and amused.
Enough with the political statements laced with kindergarten level expletives (I don't even like the ones I agree with), overly aggressive foursquare check-ins (we get it, you go home at night!), and most importantly, stop updating your status about how bored you are or how much Mondays suck or how much you can't wait for it to be Friday.
We are all bored! That is why we are on facebook!!!
So enough whining, y'all!
PS - I am not being hypocritical, this is a rant, not a whine-fest.
What CAN you do to make me less bored?
Upload hilarious pictures you took of your friends drunk shenanigans from this past weekend.
Make some catty comment targeted at the poor.
Share a link to an awesome song that is fresh with a beat that sounds like two blimps #$%-ing.
ANYTHING Tina Fey / 30 Rock related.
This is usually the best part of my day on facebook.
People who have just met me rarely believe I have a grown-up's job. If I had a dollar for every time I have heard someone say "YOU work in an office?", I would no longer need to work in an office. I would be yachting around the Caribbean or shooting wolverines from a helicopter with my "YOU work in an office" money.
To be completely honest, it is a daily challenge. I'm constantly looking for 'office appropriate' or grown-up ways to tell my coworkers to go outside and play a game of hide and go @#$% yourself when aforementioned inferior beings ask me a stupid question and then immediately question my answer. Seriously, I know my stuff, and am somewhat humble enough to tell you when I don't know. Seriously, it would be like me questioning your answer when I ask you the best places to get meatball subs or cupcakes.
Also, is it an office faux pas to send a company wide email outing my coworkers who don't wash their hands after using the bathroom? Even if said offenders are members of mid to upper management? As a side note, we have automatic soap dispensers that make a noise when you use them, I rarely hear this noise. Rinsing is NOT washing, you sick POSs (or is it PsOS?). And I read that properly washing your hands should last as long as it takes to sing Happy Birthday. Most fuggos here only get to "Hap.."
Speaking of the bathroom, when you and a coworker have played an embarrassing game of dueling stalls, how long is too long to play the 'I can't look you in the eyes because of what you just overheard" game of chicken?
Five minutes?
An hour?!
Or is there some sort of knock you can do to let the other person know they win and can safely leave their stall and under no circumstances whatsoever will you exit your stall? (Do NOT get this confused with the Senator airport terminal foot tap... You will wind up fired and/or promoted).
And, losers, the writing and leaving of passive aggressive notes around the office/break room only compels me further to do the opposite of what you are 'cutely' requesting I abstain from. The next time I see one of your chicken-scratch 'warnings,' I will steal your lunch, not brew more coffee, and I will most definitely not 'be a sweetie and wipe the seatie.' Barf.
Finally, can someone please tell ALL of the super attractive, married, woefully straight guys in my office to stop dressing so metrosexual? It's just rude.
Come to think of it, the doubters of my 'working in an office' are pretty much 80% right. Instead of doing our office 'Spring cleaning' of random junk and old files, I wrote this blog post. Also, my file cabinets are full of snacks!
UPDATE: In response to my disdain of passive aggressive notes, my friend sent me this link. I then spent about a half an hour perusing through it, and found my new favorite note ever.
Ever since my roommate got his new job, I have been forced to give up the luxury of carpooling. I have almost forgotten how much more delicious coffee tastes from the passenger seat of I-35 morning traffic... Sad.
We had been taking turns driving to the office for a couple years, so the adjustment was extremely annoying. When you're in the car alone, bad things happen!
For instance, there's no one in the car to remind you that you are about to go on a beach vacation and want to look cute in pictures and kindly discourage you from stopping at Sonic because you pass the billboard everyday on the way home and ordering two hot dogs.
I have mentioned these MULTIPLE times on the basis that they are #$%-ing amazing.
Also, in efforts to continually entertain myself, I have found that when you are in the car alone, no one is there to tell you that you that making (fake) cat calls at middle-aged Hispanic construction workers is probably a good way to get beat up or receive an offer you can't follow through on...
I also find that I talk to myself in the car...
John, don't forget to buy cheese.
John, you really need to go to the gym.
Is it racist that cars with Piolínbumper stickers make me automatically thankful for my uninsured motorist insurance?!
Do I use the C-word too much when driving?
You know? Just the usual thinking out loud, but I do it in a British accent, so I'm really just conversing with my totes stately doppleganger.
On a creepy related note: yesterday, I overheard a coworker have a conversation with himself. Well, not with himself. He was more talking by himself because his statements were clearly attempts to elicit conversation with surrounding coworkers.
We were not taking the bait! Mainly because he is the most creepy and socially awkward person ever.
It went like this:
Wow! It's gonna rain all weekend.... according to Fox News... Yep... Thursday... Friday... Saturday... Sunday... Whoa! ... ... .... There goes my plans for the weekend... That's a lot of rain... ALL WEEKEND... Rain... Easter... Weekend...
This went on for about 3 minutes... I was almost impressed at his perseverance!
Anyway, back to me.
On the plus side, I don't have to be on the receiving end of my roommate's eye daggers when I try to hit a note in a song that is way out of my vocal range. However, I have found that passengers in the cars sitting next to you at a red light will not stop staring at you unless you stop singing "Don't Rain On My Parade" at the top of your lungs... with the windows down... because you farted...
PS - the NOT holding in of farts is, by far, the #1 fringe benefit of riding in the car alone!
There are a lot of things I have tried that never really panned out how I had hoped (i.e. - not drinking for an entire week, hating Ke$ha, and vegetarianism.)
Over the last few years, I have come to realize I either have the world's best beginner's luck or I missed my calling as the next Annie Oakley.
My entire life, I have been fascinated by guns. Two years ago, I went out to my friend's home in the country and shot skeet for the first time ever. Actually, this was my first time to ever hold a gun that wasn't actively attached to a Nintendo. To say I was great would be a lie, but I did get my fair share of shots in, thus racking up major butch points!
For my 24th birthday, I went deer hunting for the first time with my best friend's dad out on his ranch. After about five minutes of target practice, we walked out to that box thing, poured some foul smelling animal urine around, and sat in silence.
Just as I was getting bored and wishing I had an iPhone to play Angry Bird on, an 8-point bucked walked into the clearing. I took aim, and successfully made that deer my b****. Its skull hangs above my closet door now.
Totally pwned.
Then, just this past weekend, two of my friends took me out skeet shooting again at this totally awesome range right here in the DFW area! When I saw that they even have a special Women's Only shooting club called "Lipstick & Lead" I knew I belonged here. I am currently seeing if they'll make an exception and approve my membership...
We ended up playing this skeet shooting golf game. I don't know how else to describe it. We walked to 8 different stations that each had two different launchers and we all took our shots. My lack of knowledge of proper terminology in no way impaired my ability to be awesome.
We stopped after eight stations because it was getting late.
I successfully came in second among five shooters, one of which was rather experienced and has a 38 loaded with hollow points tucked away in her night stand.
Note: the green V-neck Tee.
Turns out, properly holding a shot gun is EXACTLY like holding a handbag. No wonder I'm a natural!
Also, in the spirit of full disclosure, I successfully cancelled out any/all racked up butch points by spending the morning before we went shooting singing show tunes, hymns, and selections from Glee around my friend's piano while he played (including but not limited to ''The Sound Of Music,' 'It Is Well With My Soul,' and
'Endless Love.')
Side note: This weekend three of my friends and I left the bars around midnight and between the four of us, we consumed $40 worth of Taco Bell. I was completely sober. Fail.
Well, this should be more of how bad we need a new Superman movie since Bryan Singer's 2006 'reboot' was horrible, even though Parker Posey was in it. But, once again, the US public school system has failed us... well, mainly me.
Once I ran for historian in middle school student council, because I was sure it was one of those bull $#!+ offices that no one really cares about and I was moderately popular enough to win. I was wrong. Turns out, the student body knew better. First it was geography and math, and now, it appears my career as a historian is gonna be about as successful as my aspirations of reviving my teen modeling career.
So, one of my coworkers is going to give birth in the beginning of July.
Me - If it is born on July 4th, she should name it America!
Prego- It's a boy.
Me - Americo? Or Paul Bunyan!
Prego - I'm not naming my baby after a fake person.
Me - Paul Bunyan wasn't REAL?!
The fact that I was giving her any attention whatsoever regarding her pregnancy was a big enough imposition, but now she was questioning my knowledge of history? As she should.
After a quick google and skim of Paul Bunyan's Wikipedia page, turns out. He wasn't real. Or even based on a real person. I blame 3 parts my ignorance and 5 parts horrible public school education.
I'm 99% certain we read about and watched Paul Bunyan related history movies all the time. Not even on rainy days, my history teachers totally phoned it in and made me believe for over two decades that Paul Bunyan was an honest to goodness American Hero! So, let's review:
Not real! But the jury is still out on the Ox.
Totes real! Seriously!
I'm 99% sure, Jack Bauer is real.
PS - I would totally trade four real Johnny Appleseeds for one Paul Bunyan.
So, this blogger website has a feature that tracks your page views and other interesting statistics like traffic sources, countries where your blog is being read, and even what type of operating system readers are using. they even have fun graphs!PS - I have people who read in the Israel, the Philippines, and Canada! Canadians I use the word 'people' VERY loosely. Aye!
For some reason, people do not like to read on Wednesdays. Seriously, I could be promoting a free iPad giveaway, my experience with a Craigslist home massage, or free Russian porn viruses, and again, no one would read it.
I'm not trying to pretend that on other days, people are overloading the servers to get to my nonsensical writing and ridiculous MS Paint drawings, but why do people really suck on Wednesday?
It's like on Monday people are so not ready to get back to work, they will do just about anything to delay the actual working. And on Fridays, people have mentally checked out and need something dumber than they feel to pass the time. Enter, my blog!
But on Wednesday, people are catching up or wrapping up (insert 'hump-day' pun here), and they're all, 'we don't have time to %#$& around on this stupid website! Too many words! Must finish reports and collate papers!'
Others may employ this tactic, but I just spent the last 15 minutes staring at an almost 6 month old magazine and getting really pissed off at it.
With a giant bolded title of secret ways to save every day, you would think the cover art would reflect said promises.
That ugly heel in the upper left hand corner are $169 which isn't highway robbery but they aren't even that cute.
The pot in the lower right hand corner is Le Creuset and retails at about $232. Which is slightly less expensive than the one that I want, which you can buy me here on Amazon.com (but in white, because that red makes me want to vomit)!
Those leather/suede gloves that look like K-Mart gardening gloves from the Martha Stewart section are a whopping $95 dollars.
I don't know the exact breed , but that dog looks totes expensive too.
Who calls this 'saving'? Chloe Kardashian? (I know it spells it with a K, but I rank her as a sub-person and also stupid for spelling it with a K).
Although it isn't the BEST version of the song I've ever heard, I love my some Gwyneth and I LOVE that they used the intro so many versions omit.
They say a picture is worth a thousand words, and since I have no idea how to cohesively explain what you are about to see, I'm glad I've got more than one. Here's one I drew of him eating tacos!
If you frequently follow my blog (and why wouldn't you?), you have heard me mention one of my best friends, TJ. He is the textbook definition of a hot mess, but in the most awesome way possible. Whether he is throwing a full bottle of wine into the yard at his own house party or blacking out and hitting his head on a bathtub, he's the life and death of the party!
Unfortunately, my friends and I have created a monster. And by monster, I mean turned him into a scared dog that's been kicked one too many times. You see, TJ has a scream that would make Neve Campbell eat her heart out. It is a thing of beauty. We have taken it upon ourselves to find every opportunity possible to scare the ever living hell out of him and sometimes just hit him for no reason. Harmless gestures of friendship like hugs or putting your arm around him strike fear into his heart and he is constantly running pretty pathetic defense 24/7.
For instance, on the night of his own birthday party, my roommate and I decided to get him. So, my roommate hid underneath my bed and I faked needing advice on what to wear for the evening.
Luckily for you, this post gets even better.
This weekend, after hours of by the pool day drinking, TJ went home to freshen up. For his birthday, my roommate (heard but not seen above) got him a weekender bag he had has eye on for a while and Nat King Cole L-O-V-E, LOVED!. So, what better way to show it off than stumbling into a bar?!
TJ had ransacked his desk and other areas of his apartment to 'have things in his handbag' because only an idiot shows up at a bar with an EMPTY handbag. Again, this is a rather large weekender, NOT a handbag. He showed up at the bar with bag in tow and delightfully showed us what was inside: a set of Crayola markers, a bag of Rold Gold pretzels, a pencil sharpener shaped like an action figure, a toothbrush, and so much more! It was like an adorable, special needs child had dressed herself for the first time!
Anyway, my other friend, James, is a big fan of the prank. As they left the bar, James had convinced TJ that his markers were in fact makeup! He then offered TJ a drunken, side of the road makeover! Promises of looking 'fierce' and other lies, probably had TJ beaming with anticipation.
According to James, post 'makeover,' he was running down the street with his bag covering his face...
After telling my roommate the story, TJ confirmed the promises/delusions of fierce via text.
It also turns out that TJ is NOT a liar. The fierce did NOT happen.
IT'S FRIDA THE MIME, Y'ALL!!! Whose day just got better?!!?
Needless to say, Crayola markers don't blend quite like eye shadow like he had hoped/planned...
For the record: TJ, himself, sent me the first pic of the in-progress makeover.
UPDATE: 1) If you Google 'TJ hot mess' it finds my blog. On a side note, Googling 'childhood trauma stalker' also finds me the top hit. Fail or win?! 2) I love peanut butter.
Other than interesting updates from celebrities concerning upcoming appearances, other crazy celebrities' tweets that clearly are coming from their limo rides to rehab, and my school-girl crush on my friend, Cameron's, hilarious and bitchy tweets, twitter usually just pisses me off or destroys my faith in humanity. Seriously, Rebecca Black trended longer than that thing that happened in Japan...
Anyway, the other day I was absolutely so pleased to find Gretchen Weiners, Glenn Coco, and Johnny Cash were all trending! I have no idea how or why and, more importantly, I didn't care!Honestly, if you haven't seen Mean Girls, we clearly have nothing in common and you should probably stop being a person immediately. Actually, finish reading this post first.
In the film, Girl World is described as a savage place where compliments are always back-handed and you are definitely gonna get raped Oz style on a three way call at some point. But no one ever talks about the dangers of Gay World.
Seriously 'grown' men in their mid-twenties all the way through their late-forties all at some point and in one way or another revert to these vapid teenage girls, except with money, gym memberships, serious substance abuse problems, and better clothes.
I'm probably gonna make Gay World into a series, so I'm only gonna focus on the clothes for now.
Personally, I don't like shopping. I hate spending money on clothes and don't usually care about what I'm wearing. My drawings of myself constantly in a green v-neck are the product of my MS Paint laziness and because it is basically my uniform.
Even so, nothing burns my bacon more than showing up at an event or even work wearing the EXACT same thing as someone else. Seriously, I don't even do the whole 'oh, I guess you go the memo' lame joke or try to make light of the situation. The first thing that goes through my mind is, 'great now, I have to murder someone.'
The same principle goes into the same disdain I have for other Asians. I mean, I'm not gonna kid myself, we basically all look close enough to the same. Our hair is course, straight, and can only do about 3 different things. So, when I see other Asians, I basically turn into a beta fish and again thoughts of homicide roll through my abnormally large head.
However, the fact that I find taking out the trash a taxing chore, means that I would most likely never sum up the energy to dig a hole deep enough to actually dispose of a body...
Wait, this had nothing to do with 'gay world' in general... It was just my jealousy issues. Oh well. You read it! Who's the dumb one now? Still me? OK.
Anyway, I also didn't draw a single picture for this post. Wait a minute!
Here's a picture of my friend, TJ, I drew for his birthday.
You're welcome.
PS - As soon as I can figure out to edit a video (maybe Monday), I will be posting another video of us scaring TJ. *SPOILER ALERT* He screams like a big girl!
I talk about myself and shamelessly self-promote my blog enough, you would think I would the receiving of genuine compliments on the rare occasions I get them. But, in reality, they terrify me!
For me, they set a precedent. A standard that I will never live up to. It's like, "Hi, thank you for thinking I'm awesome..." Then, in my head, I go through a number of scenarios of how I can on-the-spot validate their praise. Then I panic and usually just end up talking about how lame Desperate Housewives is this season and how I thought Vanessa Williams would have been a good addition, but turned out to be Ethnic Edie.
Anyway, the other day, I got an unsolicited email from a perfect stranger talking about how much they loved my blog! I was elated by the fact that my blog was somehow being read by people outside of my immediate family, extremely bored friends, and even boreder coworkers. Then I thought I was being punk'd. Then I thought how much of a douche-bag Ashton Kutcher is and why would I possibly want to buy a digital camera from him. Then I thought about the show Perfect Strangers and wondered what those actors were up to now. Then I got lost in about a 2 hour Wikipedia black hole of links and links and links and somehow ended up here.
Then finally, my brain reset itself and I remembered the 'fan mail' and/or prank. My elation quickly turned to terror. I had somehow set a precedent that I was 'hilarious' and felt compelled to continue to deliver and constantly one-up myself. Now, I'm fairly certain posts since the email haven't inspired "Ginny from Seattle" to send more love my way... and I'm relieved that she probably downloaded Angry Birds to pass the time now.
What some people fail to understand (and what most people who have spent more than 30 minutes in the same room as me have come to realize) is that I try really hard to be funny. Every once and a while I get a quick comment or off-the-cuff joke in that knocks it out of the ballpark! This is about as rare as an attractive Canadian Ginger. But more often than not, it is a carefully woven web of humor. That's why I write my blog. Editing people.
I'm much more confident in dealing with blatant insults than genuine compliments. Cause then I can be all, 'Screw you, I'm awesome. You're ugly!' OR use my reality show catch phrase, 'I'm not here to make friends... I'm here to win!" The latter usually confuses and validates their criticism of my status as a non-awesome.
Unsettling compliment and my failure to acknowledge it properly:
Troll comments that I actually enjoy more than any other comments on my blog:
I'm fairly certain he just checks into periodically leave something mean. Loyal readers: check!
Same Anonymous troll. I fixed his grammatical error for him. :)
Gray area:
The other weekend a friend said I danced like a stripper.
Not really, but having a close friend who learned English as a second language in your life is fantastic as it is frustrating.
First, let me backtrack... I'm not talking about some 'fresh-off-the-boat-still-has-rice-patty-in-their-hair' broken Engrish. That's absolutely uncharming. If that seems racist, well, it sort of is. But, please direct your attention to the picture on the right. This is just one language barrier that I cannot break through. It is rearry hard!
Anyway, my friend is Columbian and with the exception of the astonishing beauty and social refinement, he is pretty much the male version of Gloria from Modern Family. He even claims to be from Barranquilla!
Deciphering his abuse of the English language (be it via facebook update, text message, etc) is an exercise in problem solving, intense utilization of context clues, and when all else fails, a shot in the dark guess. I can't decide if it has made my knowledge of English stronger or damaged it severely...
I have tried to 'walk a mile' in his zapatos and learn a bit of Spanish. But he only teaches me swear words and some of the most inappropriate phrases I've ever heard in ANY language. If I were to try and use any of what I have learned from him in ANY Spanish speaking country, I would most likely either end up shot in the face or center stage at a donkey show...
SIDE NOTE: When taking Spanish, my teachers would always tell me to watch Telemundo to hear and learn more Spanish. Apparently this works the other way around, except my friend doesn't learn the language. It has more of a behavioral 'monkey-see, monkey-do' effect. We were watching this episode of 30 Rock and there was a scene where people kept throwing wine in each others' faces. Not 15 minutes later, during an argument, he threw a glass of water at my face...
This past Friday, April Fools Day, I learned that in Latin culture it isn't enough to just 'fool' someone with a harmless prank. In Columbia, 'El Innocente' a la Modern Family is about terrifying/upsetting people... Or at least trying to...
Unfortunately, I was dumb enough to believe it when he told me our friend TJ was in a wreck, because TJ is a hot mess...
In his defense, even with his occasional errors, inability to modify a noun, and cultural idiosyncrasies, he probably maintains a better grasp of our language than a majority of America. That's either a great nod it his intellect or a devastating blow to the average American...
PS - If you are ever around a Columbian, be forewarned that if they ever use the phrase "Ahiii!" It can either be an expression of happy excitement, an alcohol-fueled mating call, or a rage-filled declaration that you are about to get physically assaulted... or it is hungry. Again, I can't stress context clues enough!
I should really start at the very least introducing myself to someone before I start making wild and humorous statements to them.
Last night, in a crowd of people I met this adorable Asian girl. She was a friend of a friend and as I walked over to say hi to him, I sort of stumbled my way into their conversation.
Friend:Do you want anything from the bar? Asian: No, I actually don't drink. Me:Oh, do you want some meth?! Asian: *Nervous laughter* (At the time I was not aware that it was nervous laughter, because there was something cute standing nearby, and I have trouble reading emotional cues of other Asians).
We were then introduced and I continued to flit around between my friends like a hummingbird with severe ADHD. The night progressed and a few hours later I ran into this duo at another bar...
Friend: Oh, hey, John, you meet my friend Asian Girl, right? I told her you are hilarious. Asian: Yeah... I told him you offered me meth earlier. *unidentifiable Asian emotion laughter*
She said it in the kind of way that when it happened, it took her a while to realize I wasn't actually offering her meth... We all laughed about it and went about the rest of night.
But my inability to read her might have meant she was just disappointed I didn't actually follow through with my offerings of hard drugs. She might have been a real tweaker. I mean during the apparent nervous laughter in our first encounter, she never said 'no.' Although I had no back up plan or meth for that matter if she actually would have said 'yes.'
So, note to self, either work harder at making grandiose statements explicitly sarcastic or always have a little meth in case you have to make good on a promise.
