Laziness Killed the Productivity Star

I’ve been suffering from a bit of writer’s block, and just as I thought I was hitting my stride. Maybe all my drinking killed those creative brain cells instead of the math ones I was planning on. I’m awful at math so it doesn’t matter anyway. My parents hate playing Yahtzee with me because I need a calculator. I almost didn’t start college on time because I failed the math placement test. I had to get a tutor for the summer so I could re-learn enough eighth grade algebra to appease admissions. I slept through most of middle and high school. But I digress.

I was at a party last night for the company I recently finished interning for. They have this amazing roof deck that just lends itself to classy, sophisticated, drunken partying. I certainly made the most of it. Who can say no to free booze? Now I’m supposed to be cleaning and packing (change of scenery tomorrow!) but instead I’m half staring at my computer screen and half at my television. I’ve been sucked into Billy and Mandy’s Big Boogey Adventure on Cartoon Network. I’ve seen it so many times but I can never not watch it, and what’s better than tuning into cartoons on a lazy Saturday? I’m such a kid, I keep having to remind myself I’m not 15 anymore. It’s so depressing. But I’ll get the packing done one way or another, I kind of have to. I’ll probably convince myself that I can get it all finished tomorrow morning and then curse at myself when I’m running around crazy. After all, I have lots of TV to watch before I leave so I’m not behind. Laziness is a drug and I’m totally hooked today. But what does it mean when you’re too lazy to actually chase the dragon?

Hopefully something awesome will happen that will get my creative juices flowing again. I’ll probably have to stand up for that to happen though. It’s not looking good.

Enjoy your weekend! Do something neato.



New Goal: To Become the Bob Saget of Children’s Literature

I’ve mentioned before that I’ve been a nanny for most of my adult life (which in itself is laughable to anyone who knows me). Which means I have been forced to read many kid’s books, good and just plain god-awful. In a recent stint of babysitting, I found myself having to read book after book to a little one-year-old girl. She couldn’t get enough. She loved books so much that as soon as one was finished she would wail another right at you. If she keeps this up she may become an Olympic book-shot putter. Finally after ten books in a row, then having to go back through them again I realized that there are some real doozies floating around. I know toddlers can’t read but that doesn’t mean these poor kids are stupid! Two words per page and a goofy looking goose does not a book make! I’ve decided my new calling is to create an entertaining, cute book with substance even adults don’t mind reading over and over. I know there are many of those already in circulation but there’s always room for more.

You can take me home to your mother, don't worry

What doesn’t make sense about this new endeavor is that I happen to live my life with immense inappropriateness. I drink too much, lack morals, love politically incorrect jokes and curse way more than a lady like me should. I started getting detentions in middle school for cursing at anyone that pissed me off, my parents were so proud. I also don’t exactly have the outer presence of a nurturer at first glance. Though, I say ‘fuck you’ to those who stereotype! (I’m really a nice person, promise). But I figure, Bob Saget was able to pull off the wholesome, neat-freak, overly-huggy daddy role on Full House all while suppressing his true comedic filthiness, so why can’t I do the same? I’m pretty sure that the majority of us only found out the depths of Bob Saget’s depravity around the time of the 2005 film The Aristocrats and by then we all found it amusing and conversation worthy.

I’m gonna fucking do it and it’s going to be awesome! Updates to come.
But first here are some already rejected titles for my first book:

  • My Favorite Four-Letter-Words!
  • How Many Beer Cans Do You See?
  • Field Trip to Happy Hour!
  • Don’t Go in That Drawer!
  • Punk Rock Sing-A-Long! and
  • It’s Only Noon. Shhhh, Go Back to Sleep!


If You Break Something, Say Something?

I went to the Home Depot this afternoon because two of the three light bulbs in my bathroom died today. They were supposed to be those super-long-lasting, good-for-the-environment jobbies and I’m not quite sure they delivered on their promise. Wait… did I just get a big ‘screw you’ from the environment? Ugh. See if I try to save you again, Mother Earth!

Anyway, I was looking at all the options and having trouble remembering what I needed. (Does that happen to you? Just completely forget what you need as soon as you walk into the store? Yeah, I’m one of those people). I noticed some dude walk up, grab one of those four packs of lamp bulbs and walk away. Suddenly, I hear a smash. I look over to see the guy look through the now empty sleeve of bulbs, place the unbroken bulbs on a random shelf, grab a new pack and leave. I thought, ‘what a jerk, at least let an employee know!’ Then realized, I totally broke a couple of eggs while searching through cartons at the grocery store, then just walked away about a month ago. I’m an ass too.

I’ve never been a jerk like that before. I usually pick up after other assholes in stores because I’ve been there, in retail hell. What makes us decide it’s OK to pretend it never happened? When did I turn into one of those people I used to hate? What’s your worst retail story, whether in front of or behind the counter?


I’ll Never Forget The Lyrics, Dad.

I love trivia and I love music so it’s no surprise that I’m a huge dork for the game show Don’t Forget The Lyrics. When I found out it was back on in syndication I was pretty stoked. A little sorry for Mark McGrath’s career (not that I really cared about it ever), but happy for my trivia starved brain. There aren’t enough music/pop culture game shows on TV anymore and most of them don’t last very long. (Remember The World Series of Pop Culture? Oh man, that was my shit!) I love them because I enjoy proving to myself that I haven’t wasted my life being a huge music sponge. When I was a struggling student in middle and high school my dad would ALWAYS say to me, ‘you can’t remember the important dates to this history test but you can remember every lyric to every song on every CD you own. What is wrong with you?’ In my head I was always like, ‘yah, dad. It’s, like, because the Revolutionary War is stupid but this Hole album is sooo awesome!’ (I was never a valley girl, but saying it that way just sounds so must better.)

I want to go on this show, because maybe I could prove to my dad that almost not graduating high school was worth it when I win $50,000 because I know all the words to ‘It’s a Love Thing’ by The Whispers. But then again, there are those episodes when all the options are Barry Manilow and Barbra Streisand type artists and I’m totally lost. I don’t really want to make an ass out of myself on national TV and give my father bragging rights for the rest of his life. He’d never let me live it down and then I’d probably be forced to work for him the rest of my life. So I play the game in the comfort of my own home, and my cat is totally impressed with my singing ability as well as my lyrical knowledge. After all, I really do live only to please my cat.


Creeps and Karaoke on Jesus’ Special Day

I spent my Easter like any good non-practicing Roman Catholic by drinking too much and belting out some rocking 80’s hits at karaoke. I figured if I was with my family I would have over indulged just the same, so why not? It seemed that many others had the same idea of not visiting mom, and the wackos all found me and my friends. Creepy dudes don’t normally just appear at your Aunt Norma’s dinner table… and I’m not counting weird Uncle Rob, but they do when you’re at a bar.

The first creep appeared out of thin air at the bar my two friends and I were relaxing at during the afternoon. We get together to have Sunday Fundays where we have some drinks and play games. The three of us were playing cards when this dude just decided to join our table. He was this lanky, scummy looking dude with a dire need of advanced orthodontia. I wasn’t sure if I should feed him carrots or get him a bone to gnaw on. I’m told he was also quite pungent, a fact I learned later which led me to immediately thank my not-so-up-to-snuff nasal capacities. Creepo #1, of course, sat right next to me and kept waiting for an opening in the conversation to tell me things I didn’t care about. I learned he was at the park earlier that day (maybe pulling a carriage full of tourists?) before he came to the bar. I responded with the least amount of interest I could conjure as well as avoiding all eye contact all while getting my ass kicked in gin, ‘that’s nice’. After many other similar exchanges, he still wouldn’t get the hint. Luckily though, he became intimidated by the new presence of a guy friend and he left.

Creepo #2 was actually a little more like Crazy-Whack-Job #1. We encountered him on the subway on our way to the karaoke bar. The four of us were just standing around and talking like normal people do when this dude began screaming ‘SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!’ Of course we stopped in horror because someone was screaming, at this point I had no idea it was directed at us. (He could have been yelling at the voices in his head for all I know). Then he continued, ‘you guys are so rude! My girl and I were sittin’ here minding our own business when you walk on acting like fools’. Now, I personally didn’t see him with anyone else. AND if we’re going to start talking about making noise, you could hear the music coming from his headphones over everything else. I’m not sure how he heard anything. He stood up and moved by the door, but it didn’t stop there. Crazy-Whack-Job #1 kept on yelling at the top of his lungs about how rude we were because we were talking. Really dude? Because we shut up since we couldn’t hear ourselves over your own obnoxious-ness. Here were some of the gems he spewed at us.

  • ‘I can’t hear myself think with all your rude talking!’ (Are you sure it’s not that horrendous music?)
  • ‘As soon as you came on I knew you kids would be trouble.’ (Kids? I’m pretty sure I was older than him.)
  • ‘You know, you can spend all the money in the world on college but it won’t teach you how to act.’ (I’m glad that by judging us he was judging himself.)

He screamed at us the whole rest of the way. By this time the whole train was quiet, mostly because there was no choice but to listen to him. He ended up making an ass out of himself all the way to his stop. Luckily, he got off one stop before us. There were two older men who were also sitting in the cross-fire and saw the whole thing. One of them turned to me said, ‘he likes to hear himself talk, doesn’t he?’ I laughed and we discussed our shared baffle-ment in the whole situation. We got to our stop and he wished me a happy Easter with a big goofy smile on his face. (I love cute little old guys!)

Lastly, creepo #3 was actually multiple people in the form of a cosplay group. No, cosplay people don’t dress up in Cosby sweaters and eat hoagies. But cosplayers do dress up in all kinds of costumes and live in an anime fantasy world. They were having a private party at the karaoke bar, funky outfits and all. They were in a separate room but needed to come into the main bar to use the bathroom, where they decided to start hanging out with us. Besides the five of us poured into a cubbyhole in the back of the bar, there were about 4 others occupying the whole bar. There was plenty of room for them to congregate elsewhere. But the cosplay dudes chose to stand right next to us, in our little nook. I guess they figured we weren’t dressed up enough and needed guys dressed as japanese school girls with rabbit ears and really tall girl scouts. We didn’t though.

I’m not saying that my friends and I look/are so cool that people just want to be near us. I’m saying that something about me reads ‘freak magnet’. I’d really like to find whatever it is and get it removed, surgically if I have to. I don’t care how painful it is. I’m toying with the idea of becoming a shut-in just so the only freak I have to deal with is myself.


Bed, Bath and Beyond Unnecessary

I saw this framed piece of ‘art’ at a Bed, Bath and Beyond recently and am still trying to figure out who would spend $25 on it. I could almost begin to understand if there was a picture of some UFC fighter or a drawing of an arena. If you really want to make sure people know you are into UFC you can save yourself the money and write ‘UFC’ on a piece of paper and fun-tack it to your wall, it’ll have the same effect.


 Help me understand.


Hong Kong Nostalgia

Next month will mark two years since I moved back from Hong Kong. I was going through all the pictures today because I’ve been missing it and decided to share with you some (only some) of the fun/random/interesting sights I came across in my (almost) year over there.

Enjoy! I have so many more.

(Click on them to make them bigger)