God I love that Goobie rhymes with boobie. So satisfying.
Yes, I'm about to talk about my breasts. Hang in there. (Hang! Ha!)
I heard about Oprah's bra show, but I didn't see it. Before I even heard about that show, I knew that most women wear the wrong bra size. It's one of those facts you hear but you assume doesn't apply to you. I've had bra problems for years. I cannot seem to find a bra that doesn't have at least one problem. Is it too much to ask to not have to deal with something annoying going on under my shirt for 10-16 hours a day? Does everyone have problems with their bras?
I thought it might be a weight thing. You know, rolls and the like don't do well with things that fit snugly. Elastic bands roll up around them. Bra straps slide down because the shape of my shoulder is more like a rolling hill than a sharp mountain. Worse, the underwire digs into the delicate, fleshy flesh under my armpit. Worst, the underwire snaps and actually punctures my skin (probably a result of tension caused by an improper fit) rendering the bra a piece of trash, and of course the bras with snapped underwires were usually the ones that I liked (rather, could bear) the most.
It was a daily battle when I was choosing bras - do I want to pull up my straps once every minute all day or dig the rolled up band out of my fat roll, where it quickly forms a very painful crease? I'd become so frustrated that I'd been wearing what had essentially become a very lazy sports bra - a normal bra with the underwire removed. It was the only bra that didn't pinch, roll, or slip. What it did do, however, was make my girls look mighty sad.
Then, I kind of snapped myself into reality when I was clothes shopping the other day. My boobs and I didn't have to live like this. I'm much too shy to have some old lady measure me, but I trusted myself enough to remember that I do know my band size, and that probably hadn't changed, but what if...holy christ on a cracker...I've been wearing the wrong CUP size this whole time?!
I've been wearing a C cup as long as I can remember. When I held my boobs or looked at them, they looked like a C, and a C cup bra always seemed to hold them just right. OR DID THEY? I remember one particularly embarassing moment last year when I was basically groped by a gay guy in my coffeehouse while we were talking about bras. I told him I was a C. He didn't believe me, even after feeling them. I don't know why, but I really want to be a C. It just seems so right, so average, so manageable. I've always considered myself a big girl with small boobs - most women my size wear a D or larger. I find most shirts with any kind of darting to be too big in the boob in my size, but usually it's not noticeable enough to look silly so I deal with it.
I lost almost 20 pounds back in February. I was in a pay-to-play type of weight-loss competition with some friends, and I was feeling all kinds of inspired. I cut my food intake down to less than 1000 calories a day. I went on walks and played a lot of Frisbee. Then Micah came back into my life, and suddenly it just wasn't a priority anymore. It was much more fun to cook meals, real meals, because I had an appreciative eater to feed. It took me several months, but I gained all that weight back. I care less now because Micah can't get enough of me. (Also? It's too fucking hot to go outside and run around. Wake me in October.)
The point of all that was to say that my boobs are one of the first things to deflate or plump up when I lose or gain weight. Yes, they're on the plumper side as of late. But...could it be...because I fucking wear a D cup and not a C? And possibly should have been wearing a larger size for YEARS?
It's actually quite unbelieveable to me. I think my general size was playing tricks with my sense of space. C boobs on a thin person look different than C boobs on a thick person. Because now? These girls are resting nicely in a D cup and loving every second. They have a whole new perspective on life, like they just got back from the Peace Corps. There is no digging in my pit area. There is no slippage. No rolling. No snapping or puncturing. I notice they look so much better under a shirt, and fill out the darted shirts much more accurately. Oh, and Micah noticed too, which is fun.
It's a boob revolution, y'all.
(Really, though? I'm a D cup? DANG, momma!)
8.23.2006
8.18.2006
freakin' me out, man!
Some interesting things have caught my attention of late.
First. When I was with my ex, Dave, I once called him "boohbah" instead of "baby." (and yes, that's how I spelled it in my head, because word dorks like me do that type of stuff.) I'm pretty sure I was drunk at the time, but it definitely stuck. We referred to each other as Boohbah from then on. Sometimes I even have to stop myself from calling Micah that because it became so ingrained as a term of endearment. But it's a really stupid nickname reserved for someone I don't love anymore. A nickname THAT WAS STOLEN FROM ME and turned into an even stupid-er kids show. Seriously, how did they come up with that name? Someone must have heard me say it. Where are my bleeping royalties?!
Second. Kim H. once emailed me with the subject line "Hey Gabba Gabba Hey." I assumed she was just having some fun with my name, which seems to happen a lot. Yesterday I came across a blog with this in the header "and all the kids say Gabba Gabba Hey." Huh? She didn't make that up? Uhhh, no. I guess you can see I'm not a huge Ramones fan. From wikipedia (so sketchy, but so convenient):
Gabba Gabba Hey is the title of the first Ramones tribute album released in 1991 by Triple X records. The Ramones made "Gabba gabba hey!" their slogan beginning with the song "Pinhead", which contained the lyrics: "Gabba gabba we accept you, we accept you're one of us". The song ends with: "Gabba gabba hey, gabba gabba hey!....". During their live shows a roadie dressed up as a pinhead would come on stage carrying a huge sign saying "Gabba gabba hey". This is seen in the film Rock 'n' Roll High School featuring the Ramones. The slogan comes from a scene the 1932 motion picture Freaks, in which the characters chant the line "Gooble, gobble, we accept you . . .!".
I would also love to mention that Gabba Gabba Hey is the name of a musical about the Ramones. I'm all for the singing and the dancing, as well as the combination of the two.
FYI, Gabba is also: "a subgenre of hardcore techno in electronic music." Hardcore techno? How you gonna tell me that and not give me an example? What, like Prodigy?
Dude! All of this just RAWKS so hard my liver is shaking. Can you please call me Gabba from now on? It's so much less...adjectivey...
Third. There is ANOTHER kids' show on tv (actually, it's still in the works) called Yo Gabba Gabba. This might be the best so far because the creatures are actually quirky and fun to look at, unlike those Booh-blobs.
What's with all the Gabba love? It does spring right off the tongue, doesn't it? Especially if you say it more than once. I am loving this, really. If your name is something that can be found on cutesy souvenirs, you will never know the pain. It took me 25 years to get a souvenir with my name on it (thank you M&M factory, thank you, Mom, for hooking me up, and thank you to the parents who made the name Gabrielle more popular).
Yo Gabba Gabba Hey. I promise I will always respond to that, and probably assume the rawker finger pose as well.
First. When I was with my ex, Dave, I once called him "boohbah" instead of "baby." (and yes, that's how I spelled it in my head, because word dorks like me do that type of stuff.) I'm pretty sure I was drunk at the time, but it definitely stuck. We referred to each other as Boohbah from then on. Sometimes I even have to stop myself from calling Micah that because it became so ingrained as a term of endearment. But it's a really stupid nickname reserved for someone I don't love anymore. A nickname THAT WAS STOLEN FROM ME and turned into an even stupid-er kids show. Seriously, how did they come up with that name? Someone must have heard me say it. Where are my bleeping royalties?!
Second. Kim H. once emailed me with the subject line "Hey Gabba Gabba Hey." I assumed she was just having some fun with my name, which seems to happen a lot. Yesterday I came across a blog with this in the header "and all the kids say Gabba Gabba Hey." Huh? She didn't make that up? Uhhh, no. I guess you can see I'm not a huge Ramones fan. From wikipedia (so sketchy, but so convenient):
Gabba Gabba Hey is the title of the first Ramones tribute album released in 1991 by Triple X records. The Ramones made "Gabba gabba hey!" their slogan beginning with the song "Pinhead", which contained the lyrics: "Gabba gabba we accept you, we accept you're one of us". The song ends with: "Gabba gabba hey, gabba gabba hey!....". During their live shows a roadie dressed up as a pinhead would come on stage carrying a huge sign saying "Gabba gabba hey". This is seen in the film Rock 'n' Roll High School featuring the Ramones. The slogan comes from a scene the 1932 motion picture Freaks, in which the characters chant the line "Gooble, gobble, we accept you . . .!".
I would also love to mention that Gabba Gabba Hey is the name of a musical about the Ramones. I'm all for the singing and the dancing, as well as the combination of the two.
FYI, Gabba is also: "a subgenre of hardcore techno in electronic music." Hardcore techno? How you gonna tell me that and not give me an example? What, like Prodigy?
Dude! All of this just RAWKS so hard my liver is shaking. Can you please call me Gabba from now on? It's so much less...adjectivey...
Third. There is ANOTHER kids' show on tv (actually, it's still in the works) called Yo Gabba Gabba. This might be the best so far because the creatures are actually quirky and fun to look at, unlike those Booh-blobs.
What's with all the Gabba love? It does spring right off the tongue, doesn't it? Especially if you say it more than once. I am loving this, really. If your name is something that can be found on cutesy souvenirs, you will never know the pain. It took me 25 years to get a souvenir with my name on it (thank you M&M factory, thank you, Mom, for hooking me up, and thank you to the parents who made the name Gabrielle more popular).
Yo Gabba Gabba Hey. I promise I will always respond to that, and probably assume the rawker finger pose as well.
8.15.2006
the epitome of bliss
Finally, the blogger deities decided I was allowed to post a picture.
MY FAVORITE PICTURE OF ALL. Feel free to click on it for a bigger version.
(I swear I didn't buy the scanner just so I could scan this picture.)
I love this picture. I don't know why exactly but here are some rough guesses:
1) I usually hate to see myself in pictures. Ok, I hate pictures of me from the last...oh...13 years. The fat years. This here? On the chubby cusp, but looking tall and svelte, if I may say so. Sad that I hit my ideal weight at age 13, and also that nobody thinks I'm that tall anymore because when you grow out people don't notice the up.
2) Do I not look so damn cute in my riding get-up? From the looks of it, this picture was taken after I'd finished competing for the day. Otherwise my cuffs wouldn't be rolled (and aren't we loving that?!). This was in Colorado Springs, where we competed two years in a row for two weeks during the summer. Possibly the most fun a 13-year-old girl can have.
3) Can I admit something? I'm totally digging my 8th grade bangs! At the time I hated them, as I had no control over them. The only curls on my head are these renegade wisps at my temples, so when I had bangs those curly parts stood up, out, to the left...they did everything but stay flat - something I like to call "the wings." You know that accent thingy that goes over the N in jalapeno? What is that called? It's above the tab key on your keyboard. That's what my bangs looked like when proper care was not given. You wanna know something scary? I was thinking, after looking at a bunch of pictures from this era, that the bangs were not a bad thing on good days. Would it be so bad to try them again, knowing I now have the patience, product knowledge, and most importantly: a straightener?
4) Look at all the damn ribbons we won! We (me and like 4 other girls) were AWESOME. We totally kicked the asses of all the snobby rider girls who trained in barns with concrete aisles, air conditioning, and grooms. The snobby rider girls had to train in the exact type of outfit I'm wearing above, while we at the casual barn wore chaps (yowza!) over our jeans and ratty t-shirts. We also groomed our own horses while dodging the crazy chickens in the barn aisle. We were the unspoiled spoiled.
5) Go me with the leather bracelets and the watch all stacked up! I am hot for my 8th-grade self! IS THAT WRONG?! Also, my collar is not "popped," the shirt is called a "ratcatcher" and it's a formal riding shirt with a little collar that stands up. Then you take a little piece of matching fabric and velcro it around the little collar to hide the button. I'll post another picture with an example of a ratcatcher worn properly. It's fetching.
6) It's all of the above. I like the pose. I like the setting. I like the pristine memories that flood back when I look at it. I'd give away everything to be that skinny, spoiled, and happy again. I'm definitely happy now - happier than I've been in years - but the happiness in the picture is untouchable.
More bangs to come.
Seriously. What if I had bangs again but took better care of them? Am I TOTALLY FUCKING INSANE?
celeb reality
Imagine my extreme jealousy after reading this email from my good friend Hei in LA, where celebrities mingle with the mind-boggled masses...
gabby --
i'm totally not ignoring your email, but something amazing happened and i had to tell you right away! so anna convinced me to call in sick today (i haven't called in sick in over a year -- i was due)...so we spent the day playing tennis (seriously... a couple of couch potatoes playing tennis in 90 degree heat... but it was really fun)...aaaaanyway... on our way from the sporting goods store (b/c you know, we didn't even have rackets) guess what we saw?
filming.
of.... the L word!
i shit you not. as we drove by i saw alice, jenny, and a brunette in a power suit, who i could only assume was bette. so, of course, we went around the corner and went by again... this time we saw alice, jenny, tina, and max (ew... but still.. exciting). poor anna, since she was driving she only really saw tina... but WOW! that sooo blows all of our previous celeb sightings right out of the water (boy banders are, of course, one of my passions... but we're talking TINA!! and ALICE!!)
i almost peed my pants.
anyway, we're going out to dinner, but i just had to tell you. i knew you would appreciate!
APPRECIATE? Oh, I appreciate. I envy with lots of ugly shades of envy. Envy you might de-friend me over. Poor, dear Anna who missed just about everything? I would've had none of that.
But that's just me.
Thanks for sharing, Hei!
gabby --
i'm totally not ignoring your email, but something amazing happened and i had to tell you right away! so anna convinced me to call in sick today (i haven't called in sick in over a year -- i was due)...so we spent the day playing tennis (seriously... a couple of couch potatoes playing tennis in 90 degree heat... but it was really fun)...aaaaanyway... on our way from the sporting goods store (b/c you know, we didn't even have rackets) guess what we saw?
filming.
of.... the L word!
i shit you not. as we drove by i saw alice, jenny, and a brunette in a power suit, who i could only assume was bette. so, of course, we went around the corner and went by again... this time we saw alice, jenny, tina, and max (ew... but still.. exciting). poor anna, since she was driving she only really saw tina... but WOW! that sooo blows all of our previous celeb sightings right out of the water (boy banders are, of course, one of my passions... but we're talking TINA!! and ALICE!!)
i almost peed my pants.
anyway, we're going out to dinner, but i just had to tell you. i knew you would appreciate!
APPRECIATE? Oh, I appreciate. I envy with lots of ugly shades of envy. Envy you might de-friend me over. Poor, dear Anna who missed just about everything? I would've had none of that.
But that's just me.
Thanks for sharing, Hei!
8.12.2006
parumph
Fuck the luck.
I buy a scanner, it comes sooner than expected (and on a Friday afternoon no less!) and now I'm realizing why I've been having problems uploading pictures of late. It's a blogger.com problem. I'm not a moron and my computer does not need an attitude adjustment via baseball bat.
"We're working on the problem" doesn't make me feel any better. Though with hundreds of thousands of people starting new blogs every month, I'm not really surprised. Can't really complain when it's free.
Just watched Must Love Dogs and it was bad. I'm glad Micah was working and not here to make fun of my horrible movie choice. I tend to enjoy bad movies despite the badness if I like the actors, which I do, very much - Diane Lane, John Cusack, Stockard Channing, and Elizabeth Perkins - but I guess even good actors can't always make a bad movie shine.
Now for some Sarah Silverman stand-up! That bitch will NOT let me down, I'm sure of it.
I buy a scanner, it comes sooner than expected (and on a Friday afternoon no less!) and now I'm realizing why I've been having problems uploading pictures of late. It's a blogger.com problem. I'm not a moron and my computer does not need an attitude adjustment via baseball bat.
"We're working on the problem" doesn't make me feel any better. Though with hundreds of thousands of people starting new blogs every month, I'm not really surprised. Can't really complain when it's free.
Just watched Must Love Dogs and it was bad. I'm glad Micah was working and not here to make fun of my horrible movie choice. I tend to enjoy bad movies despite the badness if I like the actors, which I do, very much - Diane Lane, John Cusack, Stockard Channing, and Elizabeth Perkins - but I guess even good actors can't always make a bad movie shine.
Now for some Sarah Silverman stand-up! That bitch will NOT let me down, I'm sure of it.
8.11.2006
ooh la la
You guys!
I asked, and I received!
Ok fine. I wanted, so I bought. A scanner. Told you.
HOOO boy am I going to have some fun with that. It's going to be a lovely weekend indeed.
(Also because tonight will involve Mexican food, margaritas, and a little bar I haven't seen the inside of for months. Yip to the EEEE! Happy Birthdays Kim and Jacky! Love you to pieces.)
Lordy, I'm all over the place this morning. I even got to work 15 minutes early because we're doing some house-sitting for Micah's sister in Florissant and I had no idea how long it would take to get here. But staying at her house was like being in a bed and breakfast because:
1. she has a squeegee in her shower
2. the guest bed had 4,103 pillows
3. little flower shaped things in the kitchen sink to catch food
4. decorational themes
5. a curio cabinet
6. CENTRAL muthafuckin' AIR, SUCKAH! and a squeegee! FUCK YES!
Could've done better on the "breakfast" half of that equation. Last night when we were drifting off to sleep Micah said we should go to the Waffle House for breakfast (he's only 5 minutes from work today so he had a lot more free time in the morning) and I thought "now THAT is a good idea!" because that's exactly the kind of low-key romance I adore. Breakfast just around the corner involving my honey, fluffy waffles, maybe some bacon and a big glass of OJ, before work on a Friday? Heaven. But that's not what happened. We got kind of...distracted... and suddenly we were too late to go out and I threw my breakfast dreams out the door with his sister's psycho cat that hissed at me many, many times. (You do not hiss at animal lovers, whose love is so obvious it beads up like condensation on a glass. BAAAD KITTY. Cats like you are the reason I used to be scared of cats.) I looked in the fridge, discovered Eggos, and quickly determined it was the next best thing. But! The Eggos were probably bought before we invaded Iraq. We coulda played frisbee with them. Or sanded some wood. Disgusted, I pushed the plate away and Micah happily crunched through them. He bats clean-up with my pizza crusts (too fucking crispy!) so I shouldn't be surprised.
So I stopped at McDonald's, which was really the next best thing to the Waffle House. Morning saved!
And damn, getting here even 15 minutes early is really throwing my shit off.
And damn, the blabbering needs to stop RIGHT NOW.
Fuck, can I ask you a question first?
I'd like to know about your ideal breakfast.
I asked, and I received!
Ok fine. I wanted, so I bought. A scanner. Told you.
HOOO boy am I going to have some fun with that. It's going to be a lovely weekend indeed.
(Also because tonight will involve Mexican food, margaritas, and a little bar I haven't seen the inside of for months. Yip to the EEEE! Happy Birthdays Kim and Jacky! Love you to pieces.)
Lordy, I'm all over the place this morning. I even got to work 15 minutes early because we're doing some house-sitting for Micah's sister in Florissant and I had no idea how long it would take to get here. But staying at her house was like being in a bed and breakfast because:
1. she has a squeegee in her shower
2. the guest bed had 4,103 pillows
3. little flower shaped things in the kitchen sink to catch food
4. decorational themes
5. a curio cabinet
6. CENTRAL muthafuckin' AIR, SUCKAH! and a squeegee! FUCK YES!
Could've done better on the "breakfast" half of that equation. Last night when we were drifting off to sleep Micah said we should go to the Waffle House for breakfast (he's only 5 minutes from work today so he had a lot more free time in the morning) and I thought "now THAT is a good idea!" because that's exactly the kind of low-key romance I adore. Breakfast just around the corner involving my honey, fluffy waffles, maybe some bacon and a big glass of OJ, before work on a Friday? Heaven. But that's not what happened. We got kind of...distracted... and suddenly we were too late to go out and I threw my breakfast dreams out the door with his sister's psycho cat that hissed at me many, many times. (You do not hiss at animal lovers, whose love is so obvious it beads up like condensation on a glass. BAAAD KITTY. Cats like you are the reason I used to be scared of cats.) I looked in the fridge, discovered Eggos, and quickly determined it was the next best thing. But! The Eggos were probably bought before we invaded Iraq. We coulda played frisbee with them. Or sanded some wood. Disgusted, I pushed the plate away and Micah happily crunched through them. He bats clean-up with my pizza crusts (too fucking crispy!) so I shouldn't be surprised.
So I stopped at McDonald's, which was really the next best thing to the Waffle House. Morning saved!
And damn, getting here even 15 minutes early is really throwing my shit off.
And damn, the blabbering needs to stop RIGHT NOW.
Fuck, can I ask you a question first?
I'd like to know about your ideal breakfast.
8.09.2006
enough already with the snakes
That fucking Snakes on a Plane movie has officially infiltrated every nook and cranny. Not only can you send people voicemails with Samuel L. Jackson's voice saying the message you wrote FOR FREE, you can also buy crap like this for $350:
This movie is the talk of the town. WHYYYYY. It's going to be terrible. Somebody found a marketing genius though, because the fact that people are even talking about it means people are actually going to go see it. I'm especially displeased with these marketing geniuses because they've found a way to plant their little seeds in my boyfriend's head. When I woke him up from a nap the other day, in a sleep/awake haze he brushed my hand off his arm and said:
"Snakes! Get the snakes off of me! There are too many snaaaaakes!"
8.05.2006
F-F-F-Fuck it!
Did I lose everyone with the Hitler cats?
COME ON. THAT CAT LOOKED LIKE HITLER. Don't you know you break down someone's power when you make fun of them? Comparing a cat to Hitler is making fun of Hitler, NO?
I entertain myself first and foremost.
Anyway!
- Fuck muscle spasms.
- Fuck the Freezoni, Quik Trip's attempt at the almighty Slurpee. Tastes like Air-Heads, but not in a good way. And I love me some Air-Heads.
- Fuck the dollar store for having a surprisingly fabulous selection of picture frames, ALL OF WHICH have scratches that you don't notice until you get home.
- Fuck Catholic hospitals for sending Eucharistic ministers in every Sunday whether you like it or not.
- Fuck the grocery stores for slipping Sugar Free and Light versions in with the normals. That's how they get rid of them.
- Fuck our cable provider for teasing me with cheap movie channels which were "promotional deals" when we signed up and now that we've cancelled the movie channels to save money we are PAYING BLOODY MORE.
- Fuck me for not doing the online tryouts for VH1's World Series of Pop Culture. You never know!
- Fuck Ellen for not following through with swallowing fire on her show, even though the segment was called Never Say Never! Ok, fine. Not fuck Ellen. Adore her despite, know wumsayin?
- Fuck the person/creature that tossed a corn on the cob onto our balcony. Yup. Landed out of nowhere while Micah was in the kitchen. He didn't see from whence it came. We do have squirrels in our trees, but is that possible? Squirrel dropped his treat? Squirrel hurled his treat? Angry neighbors that saw us throwing entire burgers to their starving, ALWAYS outside doggy? Dude, that was like MONTHS ago, in the winter. Your time for revenge has passed. Really, though. How did the 1/2 eaten corn cob get on my motherfucking porch?
But!
- Rock on, board game Loaded Questions. I love your bonding sans cheesiness properties!
- Rock on, online quizzes for school. You can't stop me from open-booking it.
- Rock on, Camel cigarettes, for trying to bring back Camel Wides with the slogan "Big! Fat! Delicious!"
- Rock on, Kabob House. You always give us extra baklava, knowing one piece is NEVER EVER enough.
- Rock on, Me! You decided to buy a scanner! (Even if it will be the cheapest one you could possibly find. It'll work long enough to post some really embarassing pictures...and not just of me...)
- Rock on, Kim B, for introducing me to the phrase "sexin' folks."
- Rock on, Lord Byron's Smoker's Candles! You might be working some sort of placebo effect on me but I swear you really work and stuff. Props to your Smoker's Fabric Spray.
- Rock on, Dilana on Rock Star: Supernova. If you don't win those chumps know nothing.
Reader Question:
If I wanted to torture you, what kind of food would I make you eat?
COME ON. THAT CAT LOOKED LIKE HITLER. Don't you know you break down someone's power when you make fun of them? Comparing a cat to Hitler is making fun of Hitler, NO?
I entertain myself first and foremost.
Anyway!
- Fuck muscle spasms.
- Fuck the Freezoni, Quik Trip's attempt at the almighty Slurpee. Tastes like Air-Heads, but not in a good way. And I love me some Air-Heads.
- Fuck the dollar store for having a surprisingly fabulous selection of picture frames, ALL OF WHICH have scratches that you don't notice until you get home.
- Fuck Catholic hospitals for sending Eucharistic ministers in every Sunday whether you like it or not.
- Fuck the grocery stores for slipping Sugar Free and Light versions in with the normals. That's how they get rid of them.
- Fuck our cable provider for teasing me with cheap movie channels which were "promotional deals" when we signed up and now that we've cancelled the movie channels to save money we are PAYING BLOODY MORE.
- Fuck me for not doing the online tryouts for VH1's World Series of Pop Culture. You never know!
- Fuck Ellen for not following through with swallowing fire on her show, even though the segment was called Never Say Never! Ok, fine. Not fuck Ellen. Adore her despite, know wumsayin?
- Fuck the person/creature that tossed a corn on the cob onto our balcony. Yup. Landed out of nowhere while Micah was in the kitchen. He didn't see from whence it came. We do have squirrels in our trees, but is that possible? Squirrel dropped his treat? Squirrel hurled his treat? Angry neighbors that saw us throwing entire burgers to their starving, ALWAYS outside doggy? Dude, that was like MONTHS ago, in the winter. Your time for revenge has passed. Really, though. How did the 1/2 eaten corn cob get on my motherfucking porch?
But!
- Rock on, board game Loaded Questions. I love your bonding sans cheesiness properties!
- Rock on, online quizzes for school. You can't stop me from open-booking it.
- Rock on, Camel cigarettes, for trying to bring back Camel Wides with the slogan "Big! Fat! Delicious!"
- Rock on, Kabob House. You always give us extra baklava, knowing one piece is NEVER EVER enough.
- Rock on, Me! You decided to buy a scanner! (Even if it will be the cheapest one you could possibly find. It'll work long enough to post some really embarassing pictures...and not just of me...)
- Rock on, Kim B, for introducing me to the phrase "sexin' folks."
- Rock on, Lord Byron's Smoker's Candles! You might be working some sort of placebo effect on me but I swear you really work and stuff. Props to your Smoker's Fabric Spray.
- Rock on, Dilana on Rock Star: Supernova. If you don't win those chumps know nothing.
Reader Question:
If I wanted to torture you, what kind of food would I make you eat?
8.02.2006
ingenius, i tell you!
There's this band called Ok Go!, have you heard of them? Cute little band with catchy little songs and a penchant for dancing in their videos. You might have seen or heard about the video for their song A Million Ways where they first display their dancing skills. And when I say skills, I mean like the kind of skills Napoleon Dynamite has. Quirky, earnest, endearing.
And now, please let Ok Go! make your day as they have made mine. They have a new video and they've outdone themselves. They dance on treadmills. PUH-LEASE watch it. Ye shant be regretting clicking on that link. Promise.
(By the way, if you haven't discovered the joy of youtube.com, would you please? Thanks.)
go ahead and laugh
I found a website with nothing but cats that look like Hitler. What's that, you say? That's not funny? Oh, it's not? I beg to differ.
Not quite as good as Stuff on my Cat because the Hitler cats are all quite similar. It's not like Hitler had a goatee phase.
Not quite as good as Stuff on my Cat because the Hitler cats are all quite similar. It's not like Hitler had a goatee phase.
8.01.2006
this is going to be very interesting
not this post, necessarily, I'm talking about school.
the instructor for one of my classes just wrote this during our "seminar" chat session:
[R. VAUGHAN]: CLASS, I APOLOGIZE. I AM CURRENTLY ILL. PLEASE EXCUSE ME FOR A MOMENT.
[kiss-ass]: so sorry to hear that, Prof!
[R. VAUGHAN]: I WILL BE RIGHT BACK.
Niiiiice, my prof just had to excuse himself to go upchuck or shit his guts out!
Funny professor story - Biology at the community college. The professor was kind of an ass. He had a short fuse with stupid questions (and students) and moved so quickly during the lectures it was hard to keep up, much less take coherent notes, and most of the students were there to get a science requirement out of the way - definitely not science-inclined folks. When students would chat before class everyone was always trying to find someone who made sense of the last lecture. I wasn't doing horribly, actually, but I thought I'd be lucky to get away with a B. I was probably closer to a C. On the day of the final exam, I was terrified. I've never been a good test taker. Imagine the cumulative surprise when the prof announced we could answer as many questions as we wanted and would be graded on only those questions. For example, if we wanted to answer five questions, each question would be worth 20% of the test grade. Well.
Here was a question on the first page that immediately got my attention:
The female chromosome is:
a) XX
b) XY
c) YY
d) YX
And I thought is this really happening? Evidently I wasn't the only one. You could see people sneaking incredulous looks at each other, and I know they were all considering the possibility of 100% by answering this extremely easy question, but it seemed too good to be true. Was this dude CRAZY? He assured us he was for real. So I answered my one question and got the fuck out of there. During the last class, he distributed our exams and explained that he considered it a social experiment, and told us he didn't think tests actually teach you anything - if you you didn't know it before the test you aren't going to know it after. Makes good sense, but that dude was one crazy fuck.
What was the craziest thing a professor you've had has ever done during a class?
the instructor for one of my classes just wrote this during our "seminar" chat session:
[R. VAUGHAN]: CLASS, I APOLOGIZE. I AM CURRENTLY ILL. PLEASE EXCUSE ME FOR A MOMENT.
[kiss-ass]: so sorry to hear that, Prof!
[R. VAUGHAN]: I WILL BE RIGHT BACK.
Niiiiice, my prof just had to excuse himself to go upchuck or shit his guts out!
Funny professor story - Biology at the community college. The professor was kind of an ass. He had a short fuse with stupid questions (and students) and moved so quickly during the lectures it was hard to keep up, much less take coherent notes, and most of the students were there to get a science requirement out of the way - definitely not science-inclined folks. When students would chat before class everyone was always trying to find someone who made sense of the last lecture. I wasn't doing horribly, actually, but I thought I'd be lucky to get away with a B. I was probably closer to a C. On the day of the final exam, I was terrified. I've never been a good test taker. Imagine the cumulative surprise when the prof announced we could answer as many questions as we wanted and would be graded on only those questions. For example, if we wanted to answer five questions, each question would be worth 20% of the test grade. Well.
Here was a question on the first page that immediately got my attention:
The female chromosome is:
a) XX
b) XY
c) YY
d) YX
And I thought is this really happening? Evidently I wasn't the only one. You could see people sneaking incredulous looks at each other, and I know they were all considering the possibility of 100% by answering this extremely easy question, but it seemed too good to be true. Was this dude CRAZY? He assured us he was for real. So I answered my one question and got the fuck out of there. During the last class, he distributed our exams and explained that he considered it a social experiment, and told us he didn't think tests actually teach you anything - if you you didn't know it before the test you aren't going to know it after. Makes good sense, but that dude was one crazy fuck.
What was the craziest thing a professor you've had has ever done during a class?
arrrrrrrrgh
do you ever have one of those days?
of course you do.
I nearly just flung almost 200 papers across the floor.
I am at work. So I didn't. But I did make a moan/gurgle/muffled scream-type noise, as loud as I thought I could get away with.
You know, for all my talk about being such a brilliant Administrative Assistant (ok, maybe I only talk about that in job interviews) in reality I blow chunks. The final version of whatever I'm working on might be perfect and pretty, but let's just be thankful that my boss doesn't watch the amount of times I fuck up beforehand.
I can't seem to learn from my mistakes at work. Probably because I never work and so when they actually ask me to I have no oil in my cogs. It done dried up.
Or, that's such a lame excuse and what I really need is a cigarette and some deep breathing. Yes, at the same time.
What's the most annoying job you've ever had? And when I say annoying I mean soul-suckingly boring/tedious/a fucking robot could do it.
of course you do.
I nearly just flung almost 200 papers across the floor.
I am at work. So I didn't. But I did make a moan/gurgle/muffled scream-type noise, as loud as I thought I could get away with.
You know, for all my talk about being such a brilliant Administrative Assistant (ok, maybe I only talk about that in job interviews) in reality I blow chunks. The final version of whatever I'm working on might be perfect and pretty, but let's just be thankful that my boss doesn't watch the amount of times I fuck up beforehand.
I can't seem to learn from my mistakes at work. Probably because I never work and so when they actually ask me to I have no oil in my cogs. It done dried up.
Or, that's such a lame excuse and what I really need is a cigarette and some deep breathing. Yes, at the same time.
What's the most annoying job you've ever had? And when I say annoying I mean soul-suckingly boring/tedious/a fucking robot could do it.
send good thoughts to my mom...i know y'all aren't prayer people
Can I show you the weird thing I noticed a couple of days ago?
My niece IS Cosette from Les Miz! Awesome.
So, my mom is STILL in the hospital. It's been 8 days, which is sort of unbelievable when you remember this is her second hospital stay for one "simple" procedure. Thankfully, my mom's best friend Barb is back in town from vacation. Barb is the sweetest woman alive and is eager to help. I can tell her presence makes my mom feel better.
My dad, however, is NOT doing well. They say people with Alzheimer's need routine to feel like they are in control, which makes sense. You wouldn't want to go shoving all sorts of surprises and changes-of-plan in their faces, because they get agitated. My dad is getting agitated. He's been at the hospital more than anyone else, alternately sleeping in the hospital chair and staying at his sister's house so he doesn't have to drive an hour home. This change in routine, coupled with my mom's state, is messing with his stability. He's frightened for her, and for himself, and he's been testy and unhelpful. My mom says he's gotten much more sarcastic over the past year, and I can definitely see it. Sometimes it's hard to have a straight conversation with him because he makes all these stupid sarcastic jokes. My mom rolls her eyes at him a lot lately.
He is not the best person to be in the liaison position. He can't remember what the doctors tell him about my mom's condition, so every time someone asks how she is he tells us how her general state is - "she had a really rough night," or "she's been nauseous all day"- instead of what we really need to know, like WHAT IS WRONG WITH HER? What did the doctor say? What about those tests they did? He couldn't tell ya.
So, my mom's sister's daughter, P (who looks exactly like my mom, weird) has stepped in, along with Barb. Now, Barb is so sweet and wonderful that I almost want to tell P that we've got it covered, she can go now, but that would be selfish and unwarranted. P is a CEO. She's really good at getting answers now. She played the patient advocate role when her father, brother, and (other) aunt were sick at the hospital, so this is nothing new for her. What bothers me? She's been a bit of a bitch to me. I swear it's not all in my head.* I think P believes I should be doing what she's doing. And you know what? She's probably right! This is my mother we're talking about, right? If it were Micah in the hospital, I would be ALL UP ON some answers, his health status, never leaving his side, everything. So why can't I do that for my own mother? I DON'T KNOW. The easy answer is that P, Barb, and my brother have been ALL UP ON IT and we have the answers we need. The hard answer? Does anyone really want to watch me try to work through that one? I didn't think so.
Barb decided to make up a schedule for a rotating cast of aides for my mom. The aides being her family and friends, the ones who can donate chunks of time, including overnight. The problem is the response time of the nurses and doctors is startlingly slow. If something is wrong, unless my mom screamed "I'm bleeding out of my fucking eyeballs!!!!" into the nurse intercom, no one shows up for fifteen minutes, sometimes 1/2 hour. They apologize and say the hospital is full and the nursing resources are thin. But that's just not good enough for my mom, the most popular and loved gal in among her set. So we all feel more comfortable, especially my mom, when there is someone there all the time to physically GO GET AN F'N NURSE if she needs something. Because on Sunday my mom had another episode of the same type and severity as what put her in the hospital in the first place, and it's just not acceptable that the nurses didn't come immediately.
Thursday is my night! If she's still in the hospital by then, I'm staying the night. I'll put on my jammies and bring a movie (my bro hooked Mom up with a DVD player today!) and my favorite pillow and settle down as well as I can into that fucking chair. The one that squeals and hisses when you move but lays completely flat. Shit, if my 63-year-old dad can sleep there, so can I.
*I swear her attitude HAS NOTHING to do with the one time I house-sat for her and her husband and they came home early and found their house decorated with beer cans and their Grand Cherokee NOT IN THE GARAGE. I mean, come on! That was, like, YEARS ago. She's been nice to me since then! And she has a REALLY messed up step-daughter! Cut a bitch some slack! WTF!
My niece IS Cosette from Les Miz! Awesome.So, my mom is STILL in the hospital. It's been 8 days, which is sort of unbelievable when you remember this is her second hospital stay for one "simple" procedure. Thankfully, my mom's best friend Barb is back in town from vacation. Barb is the sweetest woman alive and is eager to help. I can tell her presence makes my mom feel better.
My dad, however, is NOT doing well. They say people with Alzheimer's need routine to feel like they are in control, which makes sense. You wouldn't want to go shoving all sorts of surprises and changes-of-plan in their faces, because they get agitated. My dad is getting agitated. He's been at the hospital more than anyone else, alternately sleeping in the hospital chair and staying at his sister's house so he doesn't have to drive an hour home. This change in routine, coupled with my mom's state, is messing with his stability. He's frightened for her, and for himself, and he's been testy and unhelpful. My mom says he's gotten much more sarcastic over the past year, and I can definitely see it. Sometimes it's hard to have a straight conversation with him because he makes all these stupid sarcastic jokes. My mom rolls her eyes at him a lot lately.
He is not the best person to be in the liaison position. He can't remember what the doctors tell him about my mom's condition, so every time someone asks how she is he tells us how her general state is - "she had a really rough night," or "she's been nauseous all day"- instead of what we really need to know, like WHAT IS WRONG WITH HER? What did the doctor say? What about those tests they did? He couldn't tell ya.
So, my mom's sister's daughter, P (who looks exactly like my mom, weird) has stepped in, along with Barb. Now, Barb is so sweet and wonderful that I almost want to tell P that we've got it covered, she can go now, but that would be selfish and unwarranted. P is a CEO. She's really good at getting answers now. She played the patient advocate role when her father, brother, and (other) aunt were sick at the hospital, so this is nothing new for her. What bothers me? She's been a bit of a bitch to me. I swear it's not all in my head.* I think P believes I should be doing what she's doing. And you know what? She's probably right! This is my mother we're talking about, right? If it were Micah in the hospital, I would be ALL UP ON some answers, his health status, never leaving his side, everything. So why can't I do that for my own mother? I DON'T KNOW. The easy answer is that P, Barb, and my brother have been ALL UP ON IT and we have the answers we need. The hard answer? Does anyone really want to watch me try to work through that one? I didn't think so.
Barb decided to make up a schedule for a rotating cast of aides for my mom. The aides being her family and friends, the ones who can donate chunks of time, including overnight. The problem is the response time of the nurses and doctors is startlingly slow. If something is wrong, unless my mom screamed "I'm bleeding out of my fucking eyeballs!!!!" into the nurse intercom, no one shows up for fifteen minutes, sometimes 1/2 hour. They apologize and say the hospital is full and the nursing resources are thin. But that's just not good enough for my mom, the most popular and loved gal in among her set. So we all feel more comfortable, especially my mom, when there is someone there all the time to physically GO GET AN F'N NURSE if she needs something. Because on Sunday my mom had another episode of the same type and severity as what put her in the hospital in the first place, and it's just not acceptable that the nurses didn't come immediately.
Thursday is my night! If she's still in the hospital by then, I'm staying the night. I'll put on my jammies and bring a movie (my bro hooked Mom up with a DVD player today!) and my favorite pillow and settle down as well as I can into that fucking chair. The one that squeals and hisses when you move but lays completely flat. Shit, if my 63-year-old dad can sleep there, so can I.
*I swear her attitude HAS NOTHING to do with the one time I house-sat for her and her husband and they came home early and found their house decorated with beer cans and their Grand Cherokee NOT IN THE GARAGE. I mean, come on! That was, like, YEARS ago. She's been nice to me since then! And she has a REALLY messed up step-daughter! Cut a bitch some slack! WTF!
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