Wednesday, January 30, 2013

I Can't Take You Anywhere

I have a cousin, named Chrissy, who is awesome. She is amazing and hilarious in ways I can't even put into words.

So I will give you an example:

About five years ago, we went to Los Angeles together to visit our good friend, Jacob. While we were there, the three of us decided to have lunch at the fancy restaurant on top of Barney's. We rode the elevator up with an older couple. Noticing that Chrissy and I were both in short sleeves while they had scarves and jackets, the couple figured we were from out of town and asked where we were from.

Chrissy took the opportunity to bust out a line from the awful, not-supposed-to-be-funny-but-is movie Showgirls. (We had gotten drunk and watched it the night before.) With a totally straight face she shouted, "Different places!"

I was mortified. Jacob was so proud. The elderly couple looked very nervous. And Chrissy never broke character.

We did not eat lunch at that restaurant.

Sunday, January 27, 2013

Hell of a Hole You Got There

We took a trip through the West when my sister, Amy, and I were about ten. One of the places we went was the Grand Canyon. Which was actually not as cool as you would expect. Maybe it's because we were kids, but honestly, it was pretty lame. It looked just like it did in pictures, we had to stay there forever, and there was nothing to do.

To entertain ourselves, Amy and I mostly just ran around with the camera trying to take pictures of the bottom of the canyon. I'm sure our cheap, 1989 camera had no problem photographing a subject over a mile away. But we were dumb kids, so that's what we did. Until one of us, I can't remember which, dropped the camera. Into the Grand Canyon.

Luckily, it landed on a small outcrop just ten or twelve feet down. We were afraid we'd get in trouble for losing the camera, so Amy climbed down to get it. Into the Grand Canyon. Turns out Mom wasn't too pleased with that decision, either.


Wednesday, January 23, 2013

The Masochistic Snack Choice

I'll cut a bitch.
A girl at work always eats Triscuits. I don't know how she does it. In fact, I am surprised that anyone willingly chooses and enjoys them as a snack.

Triscuits have a major design flaw. They are way too sharp. They scrape the shit out of the roof of your mouth. Every time. And a few of those grainy little splinters always break off and get jabbed into your gums.

And it's not like you go through all that to enjoy some delicious ranch or fake cheese flavor. They just taste like plain wheat. And a little bit of blood.

Sunday, January 20, 2013

Now Where Will She Sit?

So this is mostly a desperate plea for information.

When I was in third grade, we were taught a mnemonic device to help us remember the planets in order of their distance from the sun. It went: My very excellent mother just sat under new pines.

But since Pluto is no longer a planet, now what mnemonic device are children taught? Also, do children learn about Pluto at all anymore? Or has it been completely stricken from papier-mâché solar systems all together? Because that seems sort of elitist to me; like an outer space caste system.

I miss the old you.
Maybe I'm just continuing to mourn the loss. Hopefully, with time, a world within an eight planet solar system will start to make sense. As it stands, I'm still reeling for poor, forgotten Pluto.

Wednesday, January 16, 2013

Happy Stabiversary

Every year we celebrate my buddy John's stabiversary. It's exactly what it sounds like.

Three years ago, John was walking home from the bar, just minding his own business, when all of a sudden some hoodlum showed up and demanded his wallet. Being pretty drunk, and therefore brave and strong, John declined. That's when the hoodlum whipped out a kitchen knife and stabbed John in the arm, shoulder, and head. (Seriously, just totally stabbed in the head.) But the joke was on him since, being the end of the night, John probably had a total of three crumpled up one dollar bills in his wallet.

Anyway, John passed out from the blood loss and the drunkenness. And the hoodlum went a couple blocks up the street and stabbed another guy over his wallet. Luckily, that guy must have been less drunk, because he maintained consciousness and was able to call for help. John eventually woke up and staggered toward the flashing lights, and then asked if the ambulance could give him a ride home. Luckily, the EMTs were less drunk too, because they brought him to the hospital instead where he got a shit load of stitches.

Then he called his sister and said, "So, I guess I got stabbed. Don't tell Mom and Dad, okay?"

Sunday, January 13, 2013

Wait, Is His Name Really Heathcliff Heathcliff?

I've been terribly sick with the flu since Thursday and pretty much haven't been able to leave my bed for four days. In between delirious fever dreams, I read Wuthering Heights. And now I'm finding it really hard not to talk like the olden days. I can't stop referring to my dog as a cursed wretch, and I keep complaining to the boyfriend that "I've grown so utterly weary of this malignant state."

This really needs to stop before work tomorrow. Like, I'm more concerned about this going away than I am about all the mucus.

Wednesday, January 9, 2013

Pink Flamingo Strangle Hold

Lately I've been obsessed with the idea of strangling a flamingo. Not in a violent way or anything. I'm just pretty sure that I already know exactly what their necks feel like based on the pictures I've seen. (A boa constrictor wrapped in a teddy bear, obviously.) And now I'm really curious if I'm right.  And in this case, there's really only one way to be sure.

You just can't sneak up on this shifty-eyed son of a bitch.
The unfortunate part is that, also based on the pictures I've seen, I'm also pretty sure that flamingos have talon-like razor hooks for beaks. And super bendy necks (like a snake, as noted above).  Flamingos seem weirdly prepared to defend themselves against a strangle ambush.  Two well placed slashes with its weapon face and I'd be turning doorknobs with my feet for the rest of my life.

But I guess we have to take risks in life if we want to reach our goals.

Wednesday, January 2, 2013

And Just Sign for the Carousel Horse Here

I like to think about opening an Applebee's. Not that I have any interest in owning or operating a restaurant. I just think it would be really fun to sit in on the UPS deliveries for a couple of weeks before opening.

"Sir, I'm looking over my packing slip here, and I think I see a couple of mistakes. First of all, it says I should have two coconut bras, but I only see one. Also, I have a framed Wizard of Oz playbill here, but I thought it was supposed to be a movie poster to hang near those old-timey film rolls."

"Well, did you check that box there? The one with the "Gone Fishing" sign and local sports team memorabilia? Because there should be a Wizard of Oz playbill and a Wizard of Oz movie poster. The poster goes by the film rolls, and the playbill will be over by the black and white photo of Dorothy's ruby slippers. Above the framed sheet music."

"Oh yeah, I see them now. They were hidden under this old trumpet and sailor's hat. And here are my old license plates and antique Coca-Cola signs. Looks like we're all set here."

"Great. We'll be back tomorrow with your kayak, hockey sticks, and fireman's hose."