Tuesday, September 22, 2009

I hope you're not eating right now

Remember that time when my rat brother accidentally introduced his skull to a bunch of jagged rocks in the Mekong River? Here's a pic of the battle scar, for those who have inquired (sorry to the rest). You should fucking see the other guy!


Thursday, September 17, 2009

So much Yes.

Hello cock munchers!

I wish that I could take credit for the hilarity below, but it's not my shit. Just some awesome commentary by God Knows Who to tide you over while I desperately party for the next 3 days before I start work again on Monday (and will thusly have way, way more to bitch about).

Enjoy!

(Thanks, SugarDick*)

*I assume this is the man-version of SugarTits.

RANDOM THOUGHTS FOR THE DAY:

I wish Google Maps had an "Avoid Ghetto" routing option.

More often than not, when someone is telling me a story all I can think about is that I can't wait for them to finish so that I can tell my own story that's not only better, but also more directly involves me.

Nothing sucks more than that moment during an argument when you realize you're wrong.

I don't understand the purpose of the line, "I don't need to drink to have fun." Great, no one does. But why start a fire with flint and sticks when they've invented the lighter?

Have you ever been walking down the street and realized that you're going in the complete opposite direction of where you are supposed to be going? But instead of just turning a 180 and walking back in the direction from which you came, you have to first do something like check your watch or phone or make a grand arm gesture and mutter to yourself to ensure that no one in the surrounding area thinks you're crazy by randomly switching directions on the sidewalk.

I totally take back all those times I didn't want to nap when I was younger.

The letters T and G are very close to each other on a keyboard. This recently became all too apparent to me and consequently I will never be ending a work email with the phrase "Regards" again.

Do you remember when you were a kid, playing Nintendo and it wouldn't work? You take the cartridge out, blow in it and that would magically fix the problem. Every kid in America did that, but how did we all know how to fix the problem? There was no internet or message boards or FAQ's. We just figured it out. Today's kids are soft.

There is a great need for sarcasm font.

Sometimes, I'll watch a movie that I watched when I was younger and suddenly realize I had no idea what the fuck was going on when I first saw it.

I think everyone has a movie that they love so much, it actually becomes stressful to watch it with other people. I'll end up wasting 90 minutes shiftily glancing around to confirm that everyone's laughing at the right parts, then making sure I laugh just a little bit harder (and a millisecond earlier) to prove that I'm still the only one who really, really gets it.

The other night I hit a new low at an open bar. I had already hopped on highway blackout when, inevitably I had to find a bathroom. Eventually I decided it was probably on the other side of the bar so I tried to walk over there, but ran into a guy coming the other way. We played that, Both go left, Both go right game to no avail, so I finally put out my hand to guide myself past and that's is when I realized, yup, that's a mirror I just tried to walk through. And the guy on the other side is me. Even cats can re cognize their own image.

How the hell are you supposed to fold a fitted sheet?

I would rather try to carry 10 plastic grocery bags in each hand than take 2 trips to bring my groceries in.

I think part of a best friend's job should be to immediately clear your computer history if you die.

The only time I look forward to a red light is when I'm trying to finish a text.

A recent study has shown that playing beer pong contributes to the spread of mono and the flu. Yeah, if you suck at it.

Was learning cursive really necessary?

Lol has gone from meaning, "laugh out loud" to "I have nothing else to say".

I have a hard time deciphering the fine line between boredom and hunger.

Answering the same letter three times or more in a row on a Scantron test is absolutely petrifying.

My brother's Municipal League baseball team is named the Stepdads. Seeing as none of the guys on the team are actual stepdads, I inquired about the name. He explained, "Cuz we beat you, and you hate us." Classy, bro.

Whenever someone says "I'm not book smart, but I'm street smart", all I hear is "I'm not real smart, but I'm imaginary smart".

How many times is it appropriate to say "What?" before you just nod and smile because you still didn't hear what they said?

I love the sense of camaraderie when an entire line of cars teams up to prevent a dick from cutting in at the front. Stay strong, brothers!

Every time I have to spell a word over the phone using 'as in' examples, I will undoubtedly draw a blank and sound like a complete idiot. Today I had to spell my boss's last name to an attorney and said "Yes that's G as in...(10 second lapse)..ummm...Goonies"

What would happen if I hired two private investigators to follow each other?

While driving yesterday I saw a banana peel in the road and instinctively swerved to avoid it...thanks Mario Kart.

MapQuest really needs to start their directions on #5. Pretty sure I know how to get out of my neighborhood.

Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the person died.

I find it hard to believe there are actually people who get in the shower first and THEN turn on the water.

Shirts get dirty. Underwear gets dirty. Pants? Pants never get dirty, and you can wear them forever.

I would like to officially coin the phrase 'catching the swine flu' to be used as a way to make fun of a friend for hooking up with an overweight woman. Example: "Dave caught the swine flu last night."

I can't remember the last time I wasn't at least kind of tired.

Bad decisions make good stories

Whenever I'm Facebook stalking someone and I find out that their profile is public I feel like a kid on Christmas morning who just got the Red Ryder BB gun that I always wanted. 546 pictures? Don't mind if I do!

Is it just me or do high school girls get sluttier & sluttier every year?

If Carmen San Diego and Waldo ever got together, their offspring would probably just be completely invisible.

Why is it that during an ice-breaker, when the whole room has to go around and say their name and where they are from, I get so incredibly nervous? Like I know my name, I know where I'm from, this shouldn't be a problem....

You never know when it will strike, but there comes a moment at work when you've made up your mind that you just aren't doing anything productive for the rest of the day.

Can we all just agree to ignore whatever comes after DVDs? I don't want to have to restart my collection.

There's no worse feeling than that millisecond you're sure you are going to die after leaning your chair back a little too far.

I'm always slightly terrified when I exit out of Word and it asks me if I want to save any changes to my ten page research paper that I swear I did not make any changes to.

"Do not machine wash or tumble dry" means I will never wash this ever.

I hate being the one with the remote in a room full of people watching TV. There's so much pressure. 'I love this show, but will they judge me if I keep it on? I bet everyone is wishing we weren't watching this. It's only a matter of time before they all get up and leave the room. Will we still be friends after this?'

While watching the Olympics, I find myself cheering equally for China and USA. No, I am not of Chinese descent, but I am fairly certain that when Chinese athletes don't win, they are executed.

I hate when I just miss a call by the last ring (Hello? Hello? Damnit!), but when I immediately call back, it rings nine times and goes to voicemail. What'd you do after I didn't answer? Drop the phone and run away?

I hate leaving my house confident and looking good and then not seeing anyone of importance the entire day. What a waste.

When I meet a new girl, I'm terrified of mentioning something she hasn't already told me but that I have learned from some light internet stalking.

I like all of the music in my iTunes, except when it's on shuffle, then I like about one in every fifteen songs in my iTunes.

Why is a school zone 20 mph? That seems like the optimal cruising speed for pedophiles...

As a driver I hate pedestrians, and as a pedestrian I hate drivers, but no matter what the mode of transportation, I always hate cyclists.

Sometimes I'll look down at my watch 3 consecutive times and still not know what time it is.

It should probably be called Unplanned Parenthood.

I keep some people's phone numbers in my phone just so I know not to answer when they call.

I think that if, years down the road when I'm trying to have a kid, I find out that I'm sterile, most of my disappointment will stem from the fact that I was not aware of my condition in college.

Even if I knew your social security number, I wouldn't know what do to with it.

Even under ideal conditions people have trouble locating their car keys in a pocket, hitting the G-spot, and Pinning the Tail on the Donkey - but I'd bet my ass everyone can find and push the Snooze button from 3 feet away, in about 1.7 seconds, eyes closed, first time every time...

My 4-year old son asked me in the car the other day "Dad what would happen if you ran over a ninja?" How the hell do I respond to that?

It really pisses me off when I want to read a story on CNN.com and the link takes me to a video instead of text.

I wonder if cops ever get pissed off at the fact that everyone they drive behind obeys the speed limit.

I think the freezer deserves a light as well.

I disagree with Kay Jewelers. I would bet on any given Friday or Saturday night more kisses begin with Miller Lites than Kay.

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

A Toothless Winterpeg Grin

(insert rambling apologies, etc, blah blah blah, and what have you.)

Hi kids!

It's fall, so I've been told, but I'm still waiting for the horrible, leaf changing evidence to love-slap me in the face. The reason I haven't noticed the changing of the seasons is that I've been, blessedly, out of Toronto for the past 7 weeks or so. A little 45 degree heat in Madrid and Barcelona, some sexy 38 degree + cool summer breeze action in the Greek Islands, a cottage in NYC and finally Vancouver, which apparently is the TITS. Or at least, it has been the tits for the past week. Just gorgeous, kids. Just grand. I like to think it was all for me - the sunshine, the hot hot heat - since when I left Canada's prettiest city just yesterday the sky turned a dark shade of used-asshole black in what can only be a protest of my sad departure. Fear not, Vancouverites, I shall return the next time there is a week of perfect weather! Start working on that, will you?

Anyhottimesinthecity, after 7+ weeks of fabulousness, I find myself in the bustling metropolis of Winnipeg (aka Winterpeg, aka Punishment Land of Pain). Various weather.com checks over the past week led me to believe I was going to be rained on with all the vengeance of several....vengeful...gods? Wow, I'm tired. Where am I? Oh right, Winnie the Peg! So imagine my surprise when I stepped off the plane last night, into the arms of my beautiful best friend, through the parking garage, past Go, and finally into the warm? summer?! AIR! (Kenny Powers fist pump!) Today was a darling 28 degrees and sunny, and looks like the trend is going to continue until I leave on Saturday, when this fair village will resume it's gloomy non-m-ness existence. (Editor's note: all of the above weather control is only more evidence that I am, truly, surely, a wizard. More on that later).

But lo! Not all was puppies and chocolate flavoured cigars (do these exist? I like to dream yes) en route to ole' Pegtown. (I heard that communal sigh of relief among you, most loyal readers - "is this really another GD entry about the fucking weather?! Damn this bitch is getting old!). Fear not.

Yesterday, my dearest friends S + M (yes!) drove me to the airport, bless their hearts, a few hours early. I made it through customs in record time (4 mins?) and found myself with a good 2.75 hours before my plane was set to take off. Le sigh! I fucking hate airports, let me just put that out there. I've been in about 14 of them in the past 2 months and if I never set foot in one again...well then my life would be really boring and shitty, but part of me would secretly rejoice. Gross carpeting, old people everywhere, snot-nosed brats crying....shudder.

In an attempt to forget my hideous surroundings, I decided to try to nap. Vancouver was not a sleeping week for me (apparently I like to party?) so I was overdue. I had my travel pillow with me (a ratty, 14 year old "pillow" that basically feels like several tube socks rolled up and shoved into a burlap sack, but I love it so!) and decided to put that bitch to good use. Awesomely, the Vancouver airport has no annoying homeless-barriers between seats, so I was able to stretch out my whole 5'4 frame on three chairs. My shit was feeling pretty good all lounged out like a hobo, and I was almost sleeping when Johnny Dickface Snoremouth started trucker-breathing on the bench next door! J F'n C! Really? Can I just say that all snorers should be shot in the face? I'm...not joking.

I got up and wandered to another gate, attempted to sleep again, but there was a little ratling watching Dora the Explora (would be way cooler if it was spelled like that) on her very own 4 year old lap top and squealing with retarded delight. Fine. No rest for the wicked.

Luckily I found refuge in my sweet, loyal ipod, and my new favourite song, Unless it's Kicks (thank you, provider), which I listened to on repeat while vigorously using my starbucks stir sticks to drum along atop the latest Vogue. Eventually I noticed several people looking at me with a mix of disgust, rage and pity - apparently no one appreciates a sweet, 63 minute air drum sesh. Whatever.

Finally we boarded the little avion. By some Christmas Miracle, I had a window seat with an EMPTY seat beside me! Huzzah! I was throwin' my hands in the ay-er-ah in a gratitude dance when a 30-something dude sat in the next seat over (still an empty seat between us though). Fine, I GUESS that's ok.

I hate talking to people when I'm traveling - on the train, elevator, anywhere. Guess what? I don't know you and I have a lot of magazine reading to catch up on, so let's just both look ahead and ignore each other, mmkay? I promptly inserted my earbuds, made a killer playlist and started perusing GQ (why are you so hot, Chris Pine?).

Every so often I notice 30's-guy staring at the side of my head. Mostly I wouldn't respond, but every now and then I'd turn and provide my best cut eye that I hoped he read as "look at me once more and the last thing you'll ever see is my pen in your eye". Clearly, it didn't work.

Fast forward to those horrible final 15 mins on the plane, where you have to put your seat upright, take your hand off your dick, fasten your tray or whatever the fuck and carefully stow everything that's remotely entertaining. Including my ipod (how my ipod is going to prevent the plane from landing is beyond me, but I reluctantly agreed to put it away). The instant my protective headphones left their happy place inside my little ears, 30's-guy fucking zooms in like a vulture. "Oh, hi." No.

Being a chick, I have an annoyingly hard time being verbally mean to strangers. Sure, I can give them death stares, but once they start talking to me, I just don't have it in me to say "Oh, hi. Would you please fuck off and die?" So instead I just say "Oh. Hi." The rest of our 10 minute convo went like so:

Him: "Are you from Winnipeg?"
Me: "God no."
Him: "Oh."
(awkward silence)
Me: (eyes closed, sighing) "Are you?"
Him: "Yep. It sucks. I'm actually moving back home, which sucks. I was just in Vancouver though, which doesn't suck!" (thanks, tips).
Me: "Wow. So was I. We just came from the Vancouver airport."
Him: "Isn't it awesome?"
Me: "Yes."
Him: "Are you from Vancouver??"
Me: "Neg."
Him: "Where are you from then?" (these are the only options?)
Me: "Toronto. I'm here to visit my girlfriend."
Him: "Cool!"
Me: "Um...I guess."
Him: "Where do you live in Toronto?"
Me: "Queen and Dufferin."
Him: "Oh yeah, I've been there. It's so cool. Those streets."
Me: (staring, knowing he has never been to Toronto).
Him: "So, wanna know why I'm coming back to Winnipeg?" No.
Me: "Uh....sure."
Him: "Are you ready for it?"
Me: (looking around making sure that there are witnesses since he is clearly about to reveal some hidden, grotesque object, possibly his penis). "I guess..." (backing up in my seat)
Him: (Takes. Out. His. Front. TEETH.)
Me: "Oh, God!"
Him: (through gums): "I know!"
Me: "Jesus, God. Oh God."
Him: (finally puts teeth back in). "I sail. I was on a sailing trip. I fell off the boat and it hit me in the mouth."
(um, sure)
Me: "Wow, so....you have to move back to Winnipeg since it's the one city where you'll more easily blend in without teeth?"
Him: "Ha ha ha! No. I have surgery tomorrow."
Me: "Well, good luck!" (clearly, that's supposed to let him know that this is the end of the conversation. I turn to look out the window).
Him: "So your friend...you're staying with...are you guys around all week? Like, will you be downtown?"
Me: "Ye....nooo. No siree bob! She's crazy, this one. She likes to plan surprise mystery road trips that start the second I land. Who knows where we'll end up. Yep, sure won't be anywhere...around."
Him: "Oh, well...do you..."
Me: "Oh look, the seat belt light is on! I can finally finish my song." Insert ear plugs. Rush off plane.

I still don't understand the gum-revelation. Was that an invitation to make out? Was he trying to impress me? Let it be known: a toothless, bloody mouth is never anything you want to invite others to view, unless you're a toothless, sexy vampire, in which case, give'r.

Welcome to Winnipeg! God, I can't wait to go out tonight.

x