Friday, August 28, 2009

I'm currently sick as shit of the following questions:

  • What do your tattoos MEAN? Have you ever seen L.A. Ink? Yeah. I love that show. Anyway, what’s the significance of your tats? AND DID THEY HURT?
  • Answer: Let’s see here. I have a fucking lamp, a ship, and the faces of several women tattooed on my arms. If you can think of a theme that involves something other than being a dyke, let me know. That way, going forward, I can tell assholes like you something stupid and easy so you shut the fuck up. PS: L.A. Ink sucks.

  • How do you stay in shape?
  • Answer: Ah yes. It’s a big fucking mystery, isn’t it? Nevermind the fact that every magazine, every month, has some bullshit story on the cover about “walking away the pounds” and eating “more fruits and vegetables” and “less bags of potato chips.” We’ll ignore the fact that it’s absolutely impossible to go one day without seeing or hearing something about wellness. That being said; I stay in shape because I have a lot of sex, I don’t eat, and I drink massive amounts of Diet Coke and smoke American Spirit cigarettes when I get hunger pangs.

  • Is your hair naturally curly?
  • Answer: Don’t you fucking know the rules? You can’t get a perm until you’re over 40 and need to cut your hair in the same “mom” style that requires a loose-wave curl so you can properly fluff it up and embarrass your kids because you now look like every other mom in a mini-van. Therefore: YES IT IS NATURALLY CURLY.

Yeah. It's gonna be one of those days.


The following things no longer make you "nerdy" in a cute and endearing way.

Why? Because everyone and their fucking mother says and does this same shit.

  • Loving office supplies and being able to spend HOURS at Office Depot. OMG!
  • Being sooooo bad at bowling.
  • Not being able to carry a tune (but secretly hoping that if you did karaoke it'd go down just like it did for whatshername in "My Best Friend's Wedding").
  • Wearing fake "vintage" shirts from Target and Hollister in an effort to be a hipster.
  • Dancing with a stupid little kid at a wedding and pretending you're having a great time when you're just secretly hoping that your date sees how great you are with kids.
  • Pretending you can eat whatever you want and not get fat. (And if this truly is the case, I hate you and hope you have terrible cholesterol)
I'll add to this list as I read more of my friends' status updates on Facebook and do a little self-reflection. Should be lots of material there.

Sunday, August 16, 2009

The "Rock of Ages" Broadway Cast Recording Soundtrack Is Terrible.

So, occasionally I get CDs I need to listen to and then write reviews for. This is a groovy gig if the CD is worth listening to. When it isn't, it's pretty much painful and leaves me with suicidal thoughts.

The "Rock of Ages" Broadway Soundtrack had this effect on me.

Constantine Maroulis stars in this musical. If you have the unfortunate experience of remembering this fella from his stint on "American Idol", then I really need to say nothing else. He's trying to hard to be something he's never gonna be. Which also happens to sum up my feelings about this soundtrack.

Track 1 starts with "Just Like Paradise" and it's all downhill from there. I don't know about you but if I'm going to listen to "Wanted Dead or Alive", I'm going to listen to Bon Jovi sing it. Not a bunch of self-indulgent Broadway singers whose "hairband" collection of albums includes only the "Monster Ballads" CDs available from Time Life.

I'm not the biggest fan of musicals anyway, which is probably an understatement, but still. I do own the "Hair" soundtrack, if that counts for anything. And "Spinal Tap" rocks my world.

If you buy this CD after reading this, you probably loved "Mamma Mia", and think "Daughtry" is hard-core. In that case, I can do nothing more for you.

Friday, August 14, 2009

I guess I can add "Shitty Ex-Aunt" to the list.

So, there’s a woman outside my office area that has about one million pictures up of the same kid. We’re talking EVERYWHERE. I assumed this was her kid. Because she also talks about her non-stop and gets teary-eyed. Apparently not. It’s her niece. Which then makes what I thought was initially just a little excessive on the “putting up pictures of my kid” and “crying about her all the time” scale, now seem REALLY excessive. If not, this might explain why my sister-in-law never seemed to like me very much.

In other news, today is “treat day” in my new department. I asked someone how this is different from any other day here, and they told me, “Well, today there’s cheese and crackers.”

Ah. Okay.

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

Van Halen can take that "Ice Cream Man" song and shove it.

So, the last time the butch Schwan’s lady came to visit the house, she pretty well creeped me out. This had something to do with the fact that she came on her day off, repeatedly pounded on the door, and then proceeded to call my cell-phone (Yeah, I was hiding in the kitchen because she had just been at the house TWO DAYS EARLIER and I didn’t want anything then) and says something about how she saw my car in the driveway and wanted to know if I needed any chicken breasts or anything?

She had already been pushing my “weirdo alarm” buttons (which is saying a lot), so this was the last straw. I sent an email to the Schwan’s company about her, and told them that there was absolutely no way I was ever having home delivery from their company again. If I needed something, I’d wait until I saw a lazy driver set-up in the Wal-Mart parking lot and make my purchases there. And yes. I really did say that.

Well, they respond to me, all apologetic about it. Then they tell me they have forwarded my email TO THE DRIVER. WHAT?! Why in the hell would you do this? Dudes. I hate it when this happens at work too. You send an email to someone’s supervisor about something, and the next thing you know, the supervisor is fucking forwarding the email to the very person you were bitching about. Thanks. That defeats the whole damn purpose. If I wanted to let that person know how I felt directly, I would’ve just told them.

Anyway, I just about died when I read this but I guess I ultimately didn’t give much of a shit about it. I wasn’t ever going to see her again. Right?

Well, last Friday I was driving home from work, and who do I see driving by the house very slowly? THE SCHWAN’S TRUCK. Of course, I totally turned off on a side road and drove around the block going about 2 miles an hour. Which probably prompted a call to the Altoona Police Department from one of the neighbors.

She didn’t stop (or at least didn’t leave the catalog for me to “tour”) so I’m kinda hoping that was a last ditch effort to sell me chicken breasts. If not, more extreme measures will be taken. These will involve mature actions like throwing shit at her.