jewels of the interweb (volume 23)

And now I'm hungry..

ICH LIEBE DICH!!! AHHHHHHH!!!!!

If you do, mass suicides will ensue but, on the other hand, pigs will then be free to take over the world. 

dumb criminals

This morning, I was regaled with one of my favorite news stories of all time: the dumb criminal story.

This time, a group of TSA security screeners at the LA airport hatched a plan to get their friend through security with all the drugs he could carry. It seemed like a fantastic idea in theory, but in practice it didn't work as well as anticipated.

Apparently, the drug courier went to the WRONG TERMINAL and a non-compromised TSA screener caught him with 10 lbs of cocaine.

I'd like to think that if I were going to commit a crime, I'd be really good at it. Foolproof, even! But I, too, would probably end up at the wrong terminal. Probably because I'd get flustered by the airport parking situation and remembering which lot my car was in, and I'd be too busy compulsively checking that I had my passport and boarding pass on me that I wouldn't even notice the TSA screeners at the checkpoint were unfamiliar... until after I'd been busted with a kilo of heroin up my bum.

This, folks, is why I choose not to break the law. Not because I'm an ethical and moral individual to my very core, but because I know I'd get caught and I'm just too "soft" for federal prison.

You can read about the "Would-Be LAX Coke Smuggler" here.

a whole lotta nuthin'

"I know that you believe that you understood what you think I said, but I am not sure you realize that what you heard is not what I meant."  -Some Dude*

That pretty much summarizes my life at work lately. I would give more detail but a) my job is actually pretty boring, b) but I could get fired if I talk about it online, and c) I don't want to.

In other news, I've started reading the Bloggess's book, "Let's Pretend This Never Happened." While the introduction rambled on and on (until I started to worry that I'd wasted $20), the first few chapters have been just as funny as promised. Think David Sedaris with a vagina and a genetic predisposition for taxidermy. Brilliant!

In other other news, Will is back in Africa, which leaves me all alone in the house. I normally love having the place to myself, but Sunday night I was seized with the uncontrollable urge to make an assload of homemade Chex Mix. I ate so much of it I almost died, which leads me to believe that I'm similar to a horse and should never be left unattended with a barn full of hay lest I eat myself to death.

Only... hay is not as delicious as Chex Mix....

Anyway, last night, I resolved to eat healthy in order to make up for my Chex Mix binge, so I ate an entire cauliflower. I know it doesn't actually sound like that much, but apparently it is because I ate so much cauliflower I almost died.

Can you tell moderation is not my strong point? Tonight I'm letting someone else cook for me to ensure that I get all the proper nutrients with some semblance of portion control.

In other other other news, what the f*ck is up with Lindsay Lohan being cast as Elizabeth Taylor??? I bet ole Liz is spinning in her grave. And now Rosie O'Donnell of all people has decided to cast her opinion out there. I never in a bajillion years expected that I would be writing this EVER, but... Rosie O'Donnell is right. There's no way in hell that Lindsay Lohan is qualified to play this role.

Now, I know Lifetime isn't known for their high caliber cinema, but still. Is this really all you could work into your budget for a biopic on a Hollywood legend? Surely Lifetime could afford to splurge on an actress who doesn't demand payment in cocaine, Starbucks, and freckle repellent.

*breathe!*

I know there are WAY more important current events to rant about than this (like the economy or politics or something?)... but celebrity gossip is my own personal crack and it just so happens to be what I care about today.

The End.


*aka Robert McCloskey, US State Department Spokesman

and... i feel officially old

I went shopping yesterday and found a super cute dress... but as soon as I saw it, I dismissed it immediately.

I definitely would never wear that. Don't even waste the money! It's too white and too lacy. MOVE ON.

I wandered around the store, picking up other items to try on, but I couldn't stop thinking about the dress.

Well, maybe I'll try it on... just to see what it looks like...

I snatched up the dress and took it with me into the dressing room, feeling like something of a kidnapper. I mean, the dress was in the JUNIORS section! Ever since I turned 30, I've entered the teenybopper section of any store rather self-consciously, as if alarms might go off at any moment.

                              SECURITY BREACH! MALADJUSTED ADULT PRESENT! 

I tried it on and liked it immediately. You know, when a dress just feels good? When it makes you feel girly but also comfortable at the same time?

Ok, well... maybe. How much does it cost?

I looked at the price tag and immediately decided I wasn't going to buy it.

It's too short, anyway. I couldn't wear it to work, and I probably couldn't wear it out anywhere because everyone would think I was one of THOSE women who's trying to be 20 years younger. I'd only be able to wear it around the house on the weekends... when no one else was around... 

So I returned the dress to the rack, somewhat grudgingly. Then I saw the sale sign.

It's HALF OFF!!???

I bought the dress. It was like a weird nervous tic or something! I couldn't stop myself!

Now I have this stupid dress at home and a) it's not even that great of a dress anyway and b) if I tried to wear it, I would look like some middle-aged woman trying to run around in those awful shorts with letters on the butt and Ugg boots. It's just SAD, people!

I'm going to return the dress this morning, but I've psyched myself out about it and now I'm convinced the return desk clerk is going to judge me for buying a dress clearly designed for a prepubescent girl. So, I've determined I'm going to pretend like I bought it for someone else. A niece or younger cousin, maybe?

I really have no idea what I was thinking. If I bent over in this thing, everyone would see my old, graying vagina!* I should probably just exchange it for the below ensemble (I'd probably even have some store credit leftover afterward):

I am never allowed to go shopping by myself again.


*It's not actually gray.**
**Well, not THAT gray anyway.***
***Personally, I think my cho cha looks pretty damn good for 32.****
****I realize 32 is actually pretty young in the grand scheme of things, but it's still not young enough for certain aforementioned dresses.*****
*****Why do I keep saying I'm 32? My birthday isn't until June! I'm 31... why the f*ck do I keep rounding up??? 

jewels of the interweb (volume 22)

Holy sheet! The rumors are TRUE!

Juice is MURDER.

And my goldfish will cut you. 

yes, that's my husband running half-naked down the street...

Last weekend my sister, husband, and I went to Chicago to hang out with his friend Audrey. Audrey was Will's "best woman" at our wedding, and she's awesome. As in, hilarious, gorgeous, always has a fantastic one night stand story, etc. etc.

Did I mention that she's a brilliant attorney? I'm totally going to make her give me a discount if I ever need whatever brand of law she practices...

Me, my sister Laine, and Audrey sexin' up the Millenium Park Bean.

Audrey lives near Boystown, Chicago's premier LGBT district. My sister stayed in Audrey's apartment, but Will and I opted to stay in a bed and breakfast nearby since we hadn't seen each other in 3 weeks (he'd been working in east Africa on a training cycle and just flew back into the States last Friday).

On Saturday, we went out for dinner and drinks in Boystown. Audrey, Laine, and I noticed right away that my husband was attracting quite a lot of attention from the men at the bar.

Now, Will is pretty good looking (if I do say so myself), and he's also big and burly. He's very open-minded and used to manage a gay nightclub, so he navigates well through the gay subculture (better than most straight men!).

Anyway, Will's extremely comfortable with his sexuality but he didn't quite anticipate what Audrey, Laine, and I had in store for him. After we realized that he was total eye candy in the LGBT district, we decided that he was going to be our gay friend for the night. We wanted to see how many phone numbers he could get! I even demanded that he take off his wedding ring.

"No!" he protested, scowling a bit.

"Why not?" I insisted. "I'll keep it in my purse and it will be totally safe!"

"Why not?" Will repeated with disbelief. "Because I'm married!?" He gave me a pointed look which, as his wife, I guess I was supposed to empathize with.

"Come ON!" I begged, and then turned to Audrey for help.

She shrugged and said, "Let's give him a fishbowl margarita."

Another thing about my husband... he's a big guy, but he's a real lightweight when it comes to alcohol. It was a fantastic idea!

By the way, you probably shouldn't judge me for getting my husband drunk and willfully pimping him out to strangers. I don't know exactly why you shouldn't judge me... but just don't.

Will valiantly resisted at first but, after drinking his fishbowl (and a few other drinks as well), he was pretty much putty in our hands. We'd actually forgotten that we'd asked him to pretend to be our gay friend when he dashed out of the bar, into the rain, and pulled his shirt off.

I'd forgotten that Will really likes to run while drunk; it varies from full-on sprinting to a jaunty trot. He once ran all the way across town in college (I have no idea how many miles that is, but it's too damn far for me)! I didn't feel like running after him, so I dutifully stored his t-shirt in my purse and followed him to the next bar. After we'd ordered drinks, Will sat down with a stricken look on his face.

"Someone told me to put my shirt back on." He buried his head in his hands.

Awwww! Someone hurt his feelings!

"I'm such an amateur gay." Will sighed.

"That's because you're NOT gay," I tried to comfort him.

"I know, but I should be better at pretending!"

Another beer later, Will must have forgotten any previous insults because his shirt was back off and he was (again) running down the street in the rain. Audrey, Laine, and I followed at a slower pace under our umbrellas.

We could hear people cheering in the distance as he ran past them. You could actually trail him pretty easily just by following the wave of whooping, applause, and cat-calls that accompanied him along.

Then everything fell silent. Where did he go? My half-naked husband had... disappeared. It was like his essence had just evaporated.

My sister looked to the right and saw Will standing on someone's front stoop. Shirt still off. Leaning against a pillar in total beefcake pose. And not even out of breath!

Posing on some poor bastard's porch... 

Later he blew up a condom like a balloon, threw up in a bar bathroom, and passed out on the table.

Lesson learned? Don't give your husband copious amounts of booze and expect him to act like your gay BFF. Instead, he will turn into a drunken frat boy/exhibitionist.

Cheers!

jewels of the interweb (volume 21)

This is true and a half.

(and warts... and mosquitoes...)

Quick, let me ask my Magic Eight Ball!

runaway balloons

Remember that awful feeling as a child when you let go of your balloon, and it drifted away into the sky beyond your reach? Remember watching it get smaller and smaller? Remember your bewilderment and sadness as you realized that you'd lost it forever?

I saw a balloon floating across a busy street earlier and it reminded me of those childhood moments.

Then I remembered: Not all my balloons escaped, never to be seen again!

Once, when I was about 4 or 5, I accidentally let go of my balloon in the mall. It floated up to the ceiling and bobbed impatiently against the rafters.

To me, it seemed like my prized balloon was a million miles away. My father, on the other hand, thought we could get it back.

He told me that he was going to lift me up so I could reach the balloon string. I felt skeptical; it seemed too high! Dad instructed me to keep my legs rigid and, no matter what, not to bend my knees. He was very serious and I nodded solemnly. I understood - I could handle it.

As a number of bystanders gathered around us, Dad somehow hoisted me up so that the soles of my feet were balanced on the palms of his hands. He slowly, carefully, lifted me over his head. I strained a bit, but managed to grab the very end of the string to pull the balloon down.

Everyone clapped, and I was elated! Dad gently set me down on the ground and tied the balloon string around my wrist as I beamed up at him.

My hero!!!

Now that I'm almost thirty years older, my relationship with my father is much different. I no longer see him as the great protector... instead, I see an old man who drinks too much and can't manage his money.

I worry about him.

But today, when I saw that silly balloon floating away over traffic, I remembered him as he was then... and I realized that he isn't the one who's changed. He's always been the same, but I grew up and started seeing things quite differently.

When I'm frustrated with him, I need to remember standing on his hands in the mall, straining to reach my lost balloon. I need to remember him at his best.

I mean, after all - he got my balloon back! He totally deserves it!

Maybe not the smartest thing to do,* but look at how happy this kid is! 

*I'm only being judgmental of this guy's parenting because I'm scared of sharks.

Happy Easter!

(If Jesus was a frat boy)

Remember, Jesus was technically the very first zombie. Well, no, I guess that Lazarus guy was. But still, it's quite an accomplishment to be the second zombie on the planet. Way to go, Jeebs!

jewels of the interweb (volume 20)

I'm totally putting this on my car...

She's like the female version of Nicholas Cage: she will star in any movie, no matter how crappy.

"Oh, creation. How did you get so f*cked up?" -- God, demanding a do-over.

my cat, the almost murderer

Who, me?

For most people, spring is a time of beauty and wonder - oh, look at the flowers blooming! Everything is so magical and green...

But does anyone else hear that weird screaming sound?

Last spring, I was sitting peacefully at my computer by the open window, when I heard a bizarre screeching. It sounded like a developmentally delayed blue jay or something.

It started out relatively far away, but was growing louder as it came closer. I looked out the window, fully expecting to see a bird in a helmet diving toward me.

But nothing was out there. And the sound was getting even louder!

Suddenly, the pet door swung open and my overweight cat strolled in, the screeching sound now reaching epic proportions. Apparently the cat had decided to drag a baby bunny back to her lair (aka, my house).

The baby bunny dangled from her mouth, shrieking wildly and sounding oddly human-ish. I myself started to shriek wildly when I realized what it was.

I like to think that I'm relatively cool in a time of crisis, but this incident proved that I'm not. I was literally jumping up and down and flapping my hands like some awful 1940s female stereotype. Luckily, Will had a cooler head and smacked the cat around until she released the bunny.

We surveyed the unfortunate little beast; it seemed unable to move its hind legs. Will decided its back was probably broken. I immediately started shrieking again, something about "IT'S SUFFERING!!!!! OMG IT'S SUFFERING!!!! DO SOMETHING!!!"

Will took the bunny outside and tried to decide how to kill it. He didn't have many options, so he thought maybe he would bash it with a shovel. He was extremely unsettled by his unsavory duty: the mercy murder of a teeny, tiny baby bunny.

As Will contemplated his strategy, the bunny looked up at him like this:

"Please don't kill me!"

Will lifted the shovel and said: "Ok, baby bunny. If you're going to run away, you'd better do it now."

Just like that, the "paralyzed" bunny popped up and hopped away full speed. It was a springtime MIRACLE!

That was last year. This year, my cat did it again. It was just me and my best friend at home, so I didn't have the luxury of shrieking and expecting my husband to do the dirty work. Luckily, once I smacked the cat hard enough, she released the bunny and it scampered right back out of the open screen door, seemingly unscathed.

On its way out, it peed all over my carpet. I took that as a giant "f*ck you" from the rabbit community.

Next spring, I'm getting a kitty muzzle to prevent future tragedies.

wherein I purchased a new camera...

I bought a fancy new camera last week!  I've only owned the point-and-click cameras before, so on the way home I warned my new DSLR camera that it was going to have to be patient with me.

Aperture? Shutter speed? ISO? What the f*ck does all this mean???

I promise not to be TOO annoying with all the amateur photos on this blog, but please do be patient with this one obnoxious post...

This is my cat. She's on her 47th diet and meows like she just smoked a carton of Pall Malls.

Feet! With "Dead Hooker Red" nail polish and "Jersey Shore" in the background (just keepin' it classy, folks).

Extreme close-up of my brother's dog, Jack. He, like Sean Penn, is not a fan of the paparazzi.

My sister, Laine, and her dog Webster (who, in my opinion, bears a strong resemblance to Michael Jackson). 

Webster's head shot for the Screen Actor's Guild. Now do you see the Michael Jackson? 

More dogs, under the coffee table. They wish they were celebrity lookalikes, too.

My friend Katie and her pink umbrella, shielding me from the spray of the invisible fountain. 

Mom, eating ice cream FOR THE WIN!*
*We've noticed a direct correlation between KU scoring and Mom's consumption of ice cream. If she stops eating ice cream, they start losing. So when she ran out during the Final Four game, I forced her to eat freezer-burnt Cool Whip. And it worked! Championship game, here we come!

My brother, Scott, going for a facial expression somewhere between happy and fierce (totally nailed it).

My knitting (collecting dust).

Percival, our lawn lion. He lost his roar in a tragic accident that involved him falling forward and smashing his face. Luckily, Will was able to super-glue him back together. Now he appears to be suffering from a severe sun burn. 

All weekend long, I cornered inanimate objects, pets, and people and subjected them to my (lack of) photographic skillz. The poor bastards! 

They're all praying the newness of my toy wears off quickly...