How You Doin’ Blondie?


In Possibly Related News…Part Deux
June 30, 2008, 9:38 pm
Filed under: Coping, Humor, Life, love | Tags: , , ,

I didn’t realize tattoo’s required a certain amount of reconnaissance. The first place I walked into today looked like the exercise yard at San Quentin.

NEXT.

The second place I walked into was being ruled by a short brunette with a Monroe piercing and a sleeve full of ink. The door had barely shut behind me before she barked, “We just opened, we’re not ready for customers.” I looked her dead in the eye and said, “You’re hard ass routine just lost you a sale,” and I walked right back out.

NEXT.

Third time’s the charm. Found a shop over on South Street in Old City, run by a group of guys who collectively strongly resemble My Chemical Romance. Their portfolio is pretty impressive, and they were incredibly genuine and friendly.

I have an appointment to go back tomorrow at 2 and do the deed.

I seriously have not been this excited since I won the bid for a new transmission switch for the Volvo on eBay Motors for like two thousand less than an OEM. Yeah. THAT excited.



In Possibly Related News…
June 29, 2008, 9:35 pm
Filed under: Humor, Latin, Life, Tattoo | Tags: , , ,

First tattoo tomorrow; the Latin word “Durus” down my spine – LA Gangster font.

I believe this officially makes me a tough guy.

I will be posting pictures.

durus
um| durior -or -us| durissimus -a -um ADJ
hardened| strong| enduring; resolute| durable|


Get Nasty

You know that old show, Touched By An Angel, with Della Reese and that woman that played Dr.Quinn Medicine woman? My favorite part was when the angel “revealed” themselves and there would be this soft yellow light falling on their shoulders and they’d say in this gentle, Dr.Phil-right-before-he-donkey-punches-you voice, “I, am an angel.”

Well The Nasty Boys of The Nasty Boys Sports Blog tagged me, and the whole experience reminded me (for whatever fucking WEIRD reason) of being touched by an angel, only a different kind of angel…the kind of angel that paints letters on his naked chest at home football games…the kind of angel that stands vigilant beside you at every pre-game party, just in case you need help with that keg stand…

But I digress.

The Nasty Boys tagged me in keeping (loosely) with the rules of a challenge issued to write ones own life memoir in six words. The complete rules of this challenge are as follows:

  1. Write your own six word memoir
  2. Post it in your blog including a visual illustration if you would like.
  3. Link to the person who tagged you in their post and to this original post if possible so we can track it as it travels across the blogosphere.
  4. Tag 5 more blogs with links.
  5. Don’t forget to leave a comment in the tagged blogs with an invitation to play.

As for my contribution – a picture’s worth a thousand…right? My six words of genius are as follows:

 Truth be told, I would have used this as my memoir even if it hadn’t met the six-word requirement.

 

You’re turn:



Memo:
June 25, 2008, 5:44 pm
Filed under: Humor, Life | Tags: ,



Remember “Growing Pains”…
June 23, 2008, 2:09 pm
Filed under: Humor, Life | Tags: ,

…that late 80’s/early 90’s sitcom about The Seavers? This guy reminds me of Ben Seaver [Jeremy Miller] when he got older and started sporting glasses and a shag haircut.

And yes, that is the only thing that this makes me think of, and yes, I have been told I watch too much television.



The quickest way to a man’s heart…
June 23, 2008, 2:05 pm
Filed under: dating, Humor, Life, Men, relationships | Tags: , , , ,

…is with Chuck Norris’ fist.

But that won’t be necessary; I’m not particularly upset that he didn’t call.

Right.



Lonely Are The Brave

I was in my car today when I heard the opening chords for the Eagles’ “Desperado” playing on the radio. It’s always been one of my favorite songs, primarily because I so closely identify with the sentiment (even more so, lately).

So I turned up the volume and started to sing along, and by the time I got to the last verse, my eyes were watery and I felt a little bit sick to my stomach (a symptom indicitive of sadness, for me).

Then I looked in my review mirror and saw this chiseled guy with a crew cut, behind the wheel of an F-350, also singing along to a song that he obviously felt perfectly illustrated the complexities of his interpersonal relationships.

And that’s when I realized I must’ve looked pretty fucking gay at the stoplight, staring forlornly off into the distance, mournfully crooning, “Your prison is walking through this world all alone. Oh, Desperado…”

Pre-tty fuc-king gay.

 

They obviously do it better.



Blue Steel
June 3, 2008, 10:42 pm
Filed under: Humor, Images, Life, Loves, Pets | Tags: , , , ,

“There’s got to be more to life then just being really, really, ridiculously good looking.”



Death Wish VI
June 2, 2008, 3:24 pm
Filed under: Humor, Images, Life, Teenagers | Tags: , , ,

I was sitting on my front porch reading a book, and I guess the high school let out early or something because I see walking down the sidewalk a group of about 10 teenage boys. Well actually, I heard them before I saw them. They were posturing like teenage boys do, so before they were even in my line of sight I could hear, “What the FUCK man – FUCK YOU – She’s FUCKING hot,” and so on and so forth.

It was like watching an exhibit at the zoo or something.

When they made it to the sidewalk directly across the street, I watched them start to rough house. One boy pushed another one so violently he went flying like 20 yards to the left into someone’s flower garden. Instinctively identifying an opportunity to be violent, two other boys in the group stomped their way into the flower garden with the obvious intention of giving their friend a good natured pummeling. Then, out of nowhere, I hear, “HEY, GET OUT OF MY GARDEN.” I look down the street and there’s this short, fat, white lady almost working herself up into a annuerism over the kids in her garden. Well the boys disinterestedly roused themselves from the garden, and in keeping with their general attitude, one them must of muttered something rude as they were retreating. Next thing I know, this tiny little Keebler elf bellows, “WHAT did you just say?” To which one of the boys in the group responded,  “It’s just a fucking flower garden lady…” The woman attempted to respond, but the group effectively drownerd her out with a chorus of, “Fuck YOU lady, blah blah blah.”

Now here’s the thing: first of all, her flowers weren’t that badly damaged. I mean, it’s not like they went in there with a backhoe for crying out loud. Additionally, they didn’t enter her flower garden with the explicit intention of defacing her property – they were just being rowdy, oblivious teenage boys. The problem I have is with their attitude. Whatever happened to respecting your fucking elders? Yeah, the lady might’ve been crabby, but who the fuck did those kids think they were talking back to her like that? If my dad had ever heard either of us kids ever address an adult like that, we wouldn’t have sat down for a week, easily. I’m sick of this insolent attitude from kids today, this idea that they know everything and fuck anybody over the age of 17. I’m sick of parents who throw up their hands and say, “Jimmy is just too out of control, I don’t know what to do!” Kick Jimmy’s ass, that’s what you do. Tell Jimmy that if he pulls some shit like that again, your foot will be so far up his ass he’ll be able to taste it. And if he does it again, make good on your promise.

Because I’ll tell you what, when I reach the age where teenage boys stop thinking I’m hot, I’m going to wind up putting up with their garden-trampling bullshit too, and I’m not as forgiving as most. Picture: Charles Bronson for the female set.



LOLDogs
May 31, 2008, 11:07 pm
Filed under: Family, Humor, Images, Life, love, Pets, relationships | Tags: , , , , , ,

My brother and I were never any good at communicating our feelings for one another, so the bonds that we’ve formed over the years have always been of the decidedly silent variety.

One of the bonds we share is Cody. The day I went to go “adopt” Cody, my brother happened to be up visiting me. He drove with me out to Levittown, and he was the one that held Cody in the backseat during the drive home.

Sometimes when my brother calls, he’ll be in the middle of a story, or just about to tell me something, and he’ll just stop. When he stops, I know what’s happened, I know that’s he just depleted his bullshit source – he’s just run out of the energy to be Sargent Smile. So when he stops like that I always say, “Well Cody did the funniest thing today…” or “When Cody and I went for a walk today…” and I can hear the smile and the sigh of relief in his voice when he says, “Ok, tell me about it.”

To be honest, sometimes I’ve made up stories, or recycled old ones – because the fact of the matter is, Cody is not that interesting. If Cody were a human, I imagine that he would be a middle-aged, slightly balding white guy with a beer gut who sits in his favorite recliner all day watching the 24-hr sports network. Lassie he is not.

But Cody’s exploits aren’t what’s important, it’s what they represent. To my brother, they’re like a safety blanket. To my brother, Cody represents something that he’s seen, touched, felt, and loved, that won’t be complicated by war. To my brother, Cody represents something that is incapable of being tainted by the nightmares that he has, or the nightmares that he lives.

Also, when I talk about Cody, it prevents my brother from having to get Lifetime Network-ish within earshot of his comrades.

So for my brother’s upcoming birthday, I got the idea that I would take a cute little photo of Cody and me and make a birthday card out if it.

My idea reached catastrophic levels of failure.

My exuberance level is at, like, a 10. His is at about a 4.

He’s just not that into me.



Same Shit Different Day
May 29, 2008, 7:49 pm
Filed under: Humor, Life, love, Men, relationships, sex | Tags: , , , , ,

So S. has made his official return to relevancy in my life.

We ran into each other this morning, I was walking up to the train station to head into the city for the day, and he was driving to work. He stopped and asked me if I wanted a lift and of course I accepted. So the whole ride over we talked about the MOST boring shit in the world (of course) but the whole time I’m thinking “Ask him out, no wait for him to ask you out, drop him some hints, No just ask him out, ASK HIM OUT ASK HIM OUT ASK HIM OUT.” So I screwed up all my courage and said, “So, I see you got a new truck, what happened to the white Hummer?”

Yeah, balls of steel. That’s me.

So anyway, we finally pull up to the front of the station, and I turn to him and say, “Thanks for the lift,” but really all I wanted to do was kiss him. He smelled SO good, and his voice, oh that VOICE. I haven’t spoken to him in so long, anytime we see each other we just wave – so I’d forgotten how yummy that voice is…

I want him so bad it hurts. So what do I do?

On the one hand, we have the fact that he and I have been out together. Once. In October. 2007. And then – nothing. I got like 2 text messages, and then – nothing. He’s had all this time to make a move, and he hasn’t. So he’s obviously not that interested.

Which, to be totally honest, really does upset me. He was so much fun to hang out with, such a down to Earth guy. If only I knew what the fuck I did to turn him off. Sigh. I am NOT a happy camper.



Search Engine Terms Part V
May 29, 2008, 3:49 pm
Filed under: funny, Humor, Life, Random, Search Engine Queries | Tags: , , , ,

“freud trophy”

returned my post “People’d call say ‘Beware doll, you’re bound to fall'”

…I actually think Sigmund would be inclined to agree.



A Near-Chuck Experience

My brother and his fellow Jarheads fucking love Chuck Norris. When he visited their base camp back in March, they all went positively apeshit. This past Saturday, my brother told me that there’s rumors circulating that Chuck Norris is going to be coming back in August. I think he almost wet his pants.

It’s difficult to see, but Chuck Norris is the one in the center, directly below the Marine with his arms in the air-

My brother is the one directly to the left of Chuck, clenching his fists. He explained that day to me as, “The best day of my fucking life. It’ll even be better then the birth of my firstborn.”

My brother also said that when Chuck Norris came, they showed him the “shrine” they’d built in his honor, complete with photos and Chuck Norris “Facts”:

Apparently, Norris literally laughed out loud when he read them. My personal favorites are as follows:

  • Chuck Norris does not sleep. He waits.
  • There is no “ctrl” button on Chuck Norris’ computer. Chuck Norris is always in control.
  • Chuck Norris does not get frostbite. Chuck Norris bites frost.
  • Some people wear Superman pajamas. Superman wears Chuck Norris pajamas.
  • If Chuck Norris were a calendar, every month would be Chucktober, and every day he’d kick your ass.
  • Chuck Norris brushes his teeth with a mixture of iron shavings, industrial paint remover, and wood-grain alcohol.
  • Q: How many Chuck Norris’ does it take to change a light bulb? A: None, Chuck Norris prefers to kill in the dark.
  • Death once had a near-Chuck experience.
  • Chuck Norris can strangle you with a cordless phone.
  • Chuck Norris does not know where you live. But he knows where you will die.
  • Chuck Norris’ tears cure cancer. Too bad he never cries.
  • Because “hunting” implies the possibility of failure, Chuck Norris goes “killing”.

And the one that I actually repeat in conversations with people:

“Chuck Norris knows that violence is not the answer. He gets it wrong on purpose.”

 



Search Engine Terms Part IV
May 21, 2008, 4:07 pm
Filed under: Epic Fail, Fail, funny, Humor, Image, Life, Search Engine | Tags: , , , , , ,

The two newest terms to make my “Personal Favorite Search Engine Inquiries That Have Returned My Blog” List:

“blondie stripper pics”

and

“www. can you please find me a date”

…Congratulations on your

 



It’s Primary Charm Is The Chorus…

…which goes, “Blondie blondie blondie blondie blondie blondie blondie…”



One reason not to kill yourself: Because –
May 19, 2008, 3:06 pm
Filed under: Humor, Life, Picture | Tags: , ,



“36-24-36? Only if she 5’3…”

I took Cody for a walk today, and I actually spent the bulk of it running. He goes crazy over puddles, he loves to splish-splash around in them to his little Husky heart’s content. The problem is, his leash is like 6 feet long, and the puddles are like 20 feet wide…so not only do I get wet, but I have to run like crazy to keep up. And I do not like running. It could be a Southern thing…it’s always too damn hot down there to even move, let alone run (a true Southerner won’t even run in the face of imminent danger, that’s what the right to bear arms is for)…or it could be a laziness thing.

Regardless, I don’t like running. In fact, I don’t like working out just for the sake of working out at all. I’ve tried to, I’ve joined two separate gyms in my lifetime with the intention of becoming one of those super-toned 21st century Playmates, but I never stuck with it. The biggest problem I had was with the gym clientele in general; it was always Tiffy and Rex in their super-tight spandex checking out each others rock hard bodies. I was always in some old t-shirt and shorts.

The other problem I had was actually a specific incident as opposed to just a general complaint. There’s a new gym that opened up a few blocks away from my house, not so close that I could walk to it, but close enough so that my fall-back “it’s just too far away” excuse wouldn’t work. So they have a membership drive, and I figure, ok, alright, let’s do this. So I go in there and say that I’d like to sign up and they assign me to a “fitness mentor” named Gary. Now Gary looked to be about 16 and in addition to having the body of Jose Conseco, he was also wearing a black t-shirt he apparently purchased in the children’s department. So Gary takes me over to his little “station” and he asks me a few general questions and he asks me what my overall fitness goal is and I say, “Oh, just to tone up.” Then Gary gives me a skeptical glance which he tries to cover up with a used car-salesman smile and says, “And maybe a weight-loss plan, too?” That was strike one. So then I step on the digital scale and Gary looks down at the numbers and says “That’s more then I expected.” Strike two. Then Gary whips out the measuring tape and proceeds to take my measurements. When he’s finished, he glances at his little clipboard and he says, “Well Suzanne, I think we can put together a great work-out regime for you. We’ll cut about 10 pounds and trim off some of those inches, how does that sound?” Well that was strike mother fucking three. My reaction was a little delayed, because my first instinct was to inwardly beat myself up about not being in perfect shape, but then there was little something that just went off.  The real me, the me that would’ve had Gary for breakfast after strike one, woke up and said, “Hey, why the fuck are you letting this little dick mother fucker talk to you like this? Get the fuck out of here! You don’t need this shit, Suzanne, you’re a bad bitch!” So I look Gary in the eye and I say, “You know what, I think I’ve changed my mind, I don’t think this program is for me.” Gary, who has clearly been caught off guard, starts back pedaling like a mad man and says, “You’re probably right, you’ve got a great shape, you don’t really need to exercise, but everybody likes to stay healthy, right?” I snorted, thanked him, and then walked away.

I’m done with gyms, fucking done. And you know why? Because I am five feet and ten inches tall, I weigh one hundred and fifty five pounds, my measurements are 36DD-27-38, I wear a size 8, AND I FUCKING LIKE IT. When I look in the mirror I LIKE WHAT I SEE, and I couldn’t give a FUCK LESS if it’s not good enough for Gary. I don’t care if my tits don’t look like the gym rats’ do, mine are REAL and JIGGLE and SAG A LITTLE BIT. I have cellulite on the back of my upper thighs. My triceps wobble. AND I LIKE IT. I FUCKING LIKE IT.

FUCK YOU GARY. And not only Gary, but FUCK EVERY MEDIA OUTLET THAT CALLS FAT GIRLS CURVY AND MAKES THE GENUINELY CURVY GIRLS FEEL LIKE THEY NEED TO LOSE WEIGHT. FUCK ALL OF YOU ACROSS THE STREET AND AROUND THE CORNER.

Ahem. Rant over.



Reviving The Old Art Of Lying
May 18, 2008, 2:49 pm
Filed under: Dishonesty, Family, Friends, Humor, Life, love, relationships, sex | Tags: , , , , , , ,

I hate parties. I never know what to say. And I hate introducing myself to people. I can usually solve this problem by only going to parties as the date of some guy, that way I don’t have to worry about starting conversations by myself. Every once in a while though, I think to myself “it sure would be fun to have a little soiree with only my closest friends.” And then I remember that, strictly speaking, I don’t have any. I do have friends, but they’re friends that I could never in a million years have in the same room as each other, because then they’d eventually unravel all the little lies I’ve told. I lie a lot when I meet people, not to impress them – mainly just to cover shit up.

For instance, I have one category of friends, and they’re known as “Friends Who Have Seen My House.” This group consists mainly of people in the neighborhood (so I’m using the term “friends” here loosely), but there’s also a couple of people from the Garden of the Month club in there too. The lies I’ve told this group were created in an attempt to explain why a young, single woman who spends far too much time around the house to have a traditional 9 to 5 job and who keeps very, very odd hours; can afford to live in a 6 bedroom house. The lies vary from “My husband is an officer in the Marine Corps, he’s currently in Iraq,” (which is actually my favorite and the easiest to remember) to “My uncle died and left me this house,” (which I only use when I’m talking to a man who could possibly ask me out and all other good lies have escaped me).

Another group of friends is “Friends Who I’ve Met In An Academic Capacity.” These are people I either went to college with or met through some University alumni function (this group also contains my old Mathalete team mates). In addition to the “personal” lies I tell the “Friends Who Have Seen My House”, I also tell this group “career” lies. For the most part, my friends in this group are all in the same tax bracket, so living a life of luxury, in itself, is not going to raise many eyebrows. But these are the “elitist” friends, the “intellectuals” – so they don’t necessarily care what you have, but how you used your superior education and brainpower to acquire it. To these friends, I’m a mathematician crunching stats and formulas for a defense contractor (which serves the dual purpose of impressing them AND preventing further questioning, because you know, defense contracting is all hush, hush).

And the problem with all this lying is not the big lies that I’ve told, but the tiny little “supporting” lies. Because if you want to really sell your story, you’ve got to have background information…and I get a little carried away with my “background” information. I can’t even remember all the jobs I’ve had, men I’ve been in relationships with, or reasons I’ve moved to the area. I should have started writing it all down so I could reference it all in a pinch, but I didn’t, and now I just have to avoid small talk. And parties.



It’s Not The Fat Kid Who Cracks Me Up, It’s His Mom
May 18, 2008, 1:46 pm
Filed under: Amusement Park, Humor, Life, Parenthood, video | Tags: , , , , , ,

Seriously, my sides hurt.



Enjoy It, Just Enjoy It
May 17, 2008, 11:18 pm
Filed under: Dancing, Humor, Life, Vogue | Tags: , , ,


Search Engine Terms Part III
May 17, 2008, 9:02 pm
Filed under: Humor, Life, Search Engine | Tags: , ,

“small gay balls”

Nice.



Never Had So Much Fun In Yo Life
May 16, 2008, 11:07 pm
Filed under: Humor, Life, Music, sex | Tags: , , ,

I have come to the realization that, deep down on the inside, I like rap music.

At least 3 of the 10 available memory buttons on my car radio are programmed to hip-hop stations.

I can accurately sing the lyrics (in the correct tempo) to multiple rap songs, usually without the aid or accompaniment of the song itself.

My favorite rapper is T.I. who began his illustrious career as “Tip” but due to his heavy Southern drawl,  “Tip” was often misheard as “Chip”. He began pronouncing each letter individually, and became known as “T.I.P.”, which was later shortened to “T.I.” T.I.’s newest song is actually a collaborative effort between Young Jeezy, Usher, and himself, remixing Usher’s recent hit “Make Love In This Club.” I experienced difficulty attempting to upload the music file to WordPress, so I found the song on YouTube and posted it instead. The man you hear sing first is T.I.  (and in the video, T.I. is the one on the far left with the chain around his neck). Sigh, what a wordsmith.

 

 

I am not so far gone, however, that I actually purchase any albums that would in anyway contribute to the financial gain of any of these “trap stars” [trap star: verb/young man or woman who is successful in the urban trade of illicit goods]. I figure, if I don’t actually buy the music, I’m not actually supporting their greedy, misogynistic endeavors, right?

 



Spare Me The Righteous Indignation, It’s Just Funny
May 14, 2008, 10:32 pm
Filed under: Humor, Life, Picture | Tags: , ,



Update From The Battlefront
April 18, 2008, 11:45 pm
Filed under: Demotivational Posters, Family, fun, Humor, Pictures, USMC | Tags: , , ,

More from Sergeant Hell-in-a-Helmet and his merry 2nd Battalion

 …decidedly pre-deployment.



Thug Life Carpool
April 16, 2008, 4:46 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: ,

My brother must be a really efficient terrorist fighting machine because it seems like he spends the bulk of his deployment on the Internet, sending me things he and his fellow soldiers have found to be hilarious.

And to be honest, sometimes they make me chuckle too.