Okay I know this may spoil it for some people but frankly I just don't give a rat's ass about it because it was too hysterically funny to not post...this was taken from MSNBC.com and it just...well...read for yourself about the horrible reviews for the Ben Affleck/Jennifer Lopez film Gigli....you can't beat this line at all...
Among its biggest problems is a love scene in which Lopez spreads her legs and tells a smoldering Affleck, “It’s turkey time. Gobble, gobble.”
Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall it ain’t.
Thursday, July 31, 2003
I was talking with my friend Sheryl last night after she had seen some of the more recent pictures of me post-weight loss. We had this great discussion about how you get noticed more or hit on more or asked out more or etc after you lose all the weight and it's somewhat upsetting or discouraging because, for the most part, you are still the same person that you were before but just a smaller version.
And sadly, she's right. Since I have dropped a large chunk of weight, I have gone on more dates and gotten a few extra glances from gentlemen, and, yes, had quite a bit more sex than before. It's nice to have because it's like finding out that you did bid $250 or less on the retail price of my showcase on The Price is Right and consequently have won both showcases. It's this big reward that you get noticed more because the work you've put into yourself is paying off. The pain from the workouts, the eating right, everything...it's paid off.
But the sad part is that it only reinforces the fact that looks tend to be just about everything. When you see the list of the top traits that women and men want in their potential mate you get answers like "sense of humor," "sensitivity," and "intelligence." However, these are traits that you can only find once you start talking to someone regardless of what they look like. Yes, there is the issue of physical attraction but when one of the latest polls conducted by AskMen.com reports that only 6% of the women that responded ranked good looks as their top priority. Now this could be that some women don't want to seem shallow when they take such polls but to be totally honest, as Doc Love as AskMen.com said, it doesn't matter if you're funnier than Robin Williams, if they aren't attracted to you, then chances are you won't be making it to first base.
And that brings me back to my current situation...fifty some odd pounds ago, I had no dating life, no love life, and was having sex on occasion. Fifty less pounds now, I have a date this weekend, I'm having somewhat regular sex (although there was that eight month stretch with no sex), and I have men asking if I wouldn't mind going out for drinks or dinner with them. I started to get in shape not to get the men but to become a better rugby player. It was the training I needed to do to become a stronger, more well rounded player. This is merely the side effects from getting into better shape. This wasn't done for the men but for me. Granted I still have a ways to go to reach my targets but I'm getting there.
I guess what I'm getting at here is that it's odd to see how you're entire world can change when you lose weight. The opportunities that weren't there before are being offered to you on a silver platter. What you want you can probably get. What bugs me the most though is that when you're heavier you're looked down upon and thought of as someone who doesn't take the time to take of themselves. Sadly, in the gay community, the schism between the muscle boys of Chelsea and the bears of the Dugout/Eagle/and wherever is wide. There are the muscled Chelsea boys who are repulsed by the bear community and its members and have commented in the "Bitch Back" section of the NY Blade (or is Gay City News?) about how they don't like being touched by those who don't share the same commitment to their bodies that they do.
What does that mean? Because I don't spend three hours a day in the gym making sure that the muscles on my left pinkie are at their prime condition doesn't mean that I am less of a person who is not entitled to the same simple, decent respect that you should give to your fellow humans, let alone members of your own community. Having been on both sides of the coin (although, technically, I have never been a Chelsea boy and I sure as hell do not have the super muscle physique), it's a very unique position to be in. While I'm glad that I've lost the weight because it's made me a much healthier person, a stronger, better player, and, yes, more physically attractive to some people, I can't help but wonder where I would be today if I still had those fifty pounds on me.
Eh...listen to me ramble....back to work....
And sadly, she's right. Since I have dropped a large chunk of weight, I have gone on more dates and gotten a few extra glances from gentlemen, and, yes, had quite a bit more sex than before. It's nice to have because it's like finding out that you did bid $250 or less on the retail price of my showcase on The Price is Right and consequently have won both showcases. It's this big reward that you get noticed more because the work you've put into yourself is paying off. The pain from the workouts, the eating right, everything...it's paid off.
But the sad part is that it only reinforces the fact that looks tend to be just about everything. When you see the list of the top traits that women and men want in their potential mate you get answers like "sense of humor," "sensitivity," and "intelligence." However, these are traits that you can only find once you start talking to someone regardless of what they look like. Yes, there is the issue of physical attraction but when one of the latest polls conducted by AskMen.com reports that only 6% of the women that responded ranked good looks as their top priority. Now this could be that some women don't want to seem shallow when they take such polls but to be totally honest, as Doc Love as AskMen.com said, it doesn't matter if you're funnier than Robin Williams, if they aren't attracted to you, then chances are you won't be making it to first base.
And that brings me back to my current situation...fifty some odd pounds ago, I had no dating life, no love life, and was having sex on occasion. Fifty less pounds now, I have a date this weekend, I'm having somewhat regular sex (although there was that eight month stretch with no sex), and I have men asking if I wouldn't mind going out for drinks or dinner with them. I started to get in shape not to get the men but to become a better rugby player. It was the training I needed to do to become a stronger, more well rounded player. This is merely the side effects from getting into better shape. This wasn't done for the men but for me. Granted I still have a ways to go to reach my targets but I'm getting there.
I guess what I'm getting at here is that it's odd to see how you're entire world can change when you lose weight. The opportunities that weren't there before are being offered to you on a silver platter. What you want you can probably get. What bugs me the most though is that when you're heavier you're looked down upon and thought of as someone who doesn't take the time to take of themselves. Sadly, in the gay community, the schism between the muscle boys of Chelsea and the bears of the Dugout/Eagle/and wherever is wide. There are the muscled Chelsea boys who are repulsed by the bear community and its members and have commented in the "Bitch Back" section of the NY Blade (or is Gay City News?) about how they don't like being touched by those who don't share the same commitment to their bodies that they do.
What does that mean? Because I don't spend three hours a day in the gym making sure that the muscles on my left pinkie are at their prime condition doesn't mean that I am less of a person who is not entitled to the same simple, decent respect that you should give to your fellow humans, let alone members of your own community. Having been on both sides of the coin (although, technically, I have never been a Chelsea boy and I sure as hell do not have the super muscle physique), it's a very unique position to be in. While I'm glad that I've lost the weight because it's made me a much healthier person, a stronger, better player, and, yes, more physically attractive to some people, I can't help but wonder where I would be today if I still had those fifty pounds on me.
Eh...listen to me ramble....back to work....
Wednesday, July 30, 2003
My friend Jenna made me a very nice blog template....I just gotta work out the blogger HTML coding kinks and then I can make it fly....
Tuesday, July 29, 2003
Last night I was leaving work and something happened that made me stop and question exactly what I should do in this situation.
I saw the Roommate from Hell. I was walking to my gym and saw him as he crossed the street and as he tried to figure out whether or not he could cross through Loggia (an outdoor bar) to get to the 53rd Street. I didn't know what to do or what to say or whether I should call out his name and be cordial and say hello. I mean, the odds of him recognizing me were pretty slim given the fact that I am somewhat slim since he last saw me and I look totally different than I did before. Sadly, he looks exactly the same right down the fanny pack he always wore (a gay man with a fanny pack? Was he trying to be a lesbian?) I chose to do nothing and let him pass.
Living with the RFH was...well...hell. It got to the point where I never left my bedroom because I didn't feel comfortable living in the apartment that I had lived in for over a year prior to him moving in. Nothing I ever did from washing a dish to cleaning the bathtub made him happy. He would constantly yell and berate me because things weren't done to his specifications. Instead of coming to me to ask me questions, he would go to his friends who would loving plant doubts in his mind about me and then leave me to wonder why he didn't come to me first. Prime case scenario was the power bill that his friends insisted was too high and I was gouging him since they paid only half of what we were paying. Mind you they were living along but that's another story altogether. If I was ever online, I had to get off so he could use the one shared phone line for three hours talking to his friends. I suggested he get his own line since this line was 1) in my name and 2) that "was the terms our agreement and if I wanted him to have his own phone line I would have to pay for the installation." I ultimately got my own line just for the computer so I could pay more money. What a nice guy right? I mean, this was the guy who my friend Dawn and I agreed when we met him would be a good roommate.
Finally it all came to a head one weekend when I finally had enough of him bitching about the bills not being paid to his specifications or the cable or whatever. I was working a weekend shift at my old consulting gig and I forget exactly why he was up in arms but I got all of these emails from him when I got him saying things like, "If you're calling me at work just to fuck with me then you are playing with the wrong person." I hadn't even called him at work and I had told him on numerous occasions that I couldn't check emails at work since they blocked the mail sites. Finally, I got this voicemail that said to the following extent, "If this is how things are going to be then turn off the phone, turn off the cable, turn it all off."
So I did.
I called the phone company and had them suspend the line and leave a message that all calls could be taken on my computer line (that second phone line did come in handy). Mind you, the message said that the line was suspended at the customer's request (not for nonpayment as he said it did). I took the cable boxes from the living room and my room and condensed it down to one digital cable box and moved the TV from the living room to my room. If he wanted cable he could pay for it himself. If he wanted a phone, he could pay for it himself. I was reclaiming my life.
Well he came home ready to fight. He yelled and bitched and screamed and said that if he had to make a call he was going to use that line and tell his friends and family to call on that number. I just let him yell and make a fool of himself and actually one of his friends did call and I said they had the wrong number. He never made a call on my line because I made damn sure my computer stayed online the entire time. If his friends or family called outside of that one occasion I never heard from them.
Ultimately, I reopened the main line on the condition that he take it over and leave the voicemail open for a month to let people know they could call on my new phone number as I would just use my computer line for everything. As I told friends, sometimes to win the war you have to lose a few battles. Well in this case I only lost one but it was the one I needed to lose in order to win.
A few months later in December, he moved out as he was buying a house, I believe, in New Jersey. He didn't tell me until a few weeks before he moved out (although he did promise to pay the rent through the end of January which became a sordid mess of something else altogether). In fact, he didn't tell our landlady he was moving out until he actually started moving stuff out of the apartment and she popped her head out of the door to find out what was going on. His response to her, "What did you think was going on? Someone was robbing the place?"
So I saw him on the street last night. I was tempted to say something just to prove to myself that I didn't allow him to beat me down or keep me under his toe. But I let him go and I think that was the right decision. He's a miserable person with a nasty temper who has nothing but negativity around him and I'm better off not being associated with that -- even for a moment.
I saw the Roommate from Hell. I was walking to my gym and saw him as he crossed the street and as he tried to figure out whether or not he could cross through Loggia (an outdoor bar) to get to the 53rd Street. I didn't know what to do or what to say or whether I should call out his name and be cordial and say hello. I mean, the odds of him recognizing me were pretty slim given the fact that I am somewhat slim since he last saw me and I look totally different than I did before. Sadly, he looks exactly the same right down the fanny pack he always wore (a gay man with a fanny pack? Was he trying to be a lesbian?) I chose to do nothing and let him pass.
Living with the RFH was...well...hell. It got to the point where I never left my bedroom because I didn't feel comfortable living in the apartment that I had lived in for over a year prior to him moving in. Nothing I ever did from washing a dish to cleaning the bathtub made him happy. He would constantly yell and berate me because things weren't done to his specifications. Instead of coming to me to ask me questions, he would go to his friends who would loving plant doubts in his mind about me and then leave me to wonder why he didn't come to me first. Prime case scenario was the power bill that his friends insisted was too high and I was gouging him since they paid only half of what we were paying. Mind you they were living along but that's another story altogether. If I was ever online, I had to get off so he could use the one shared phone line for three hours talking to his friends. I suggested he get his own line since this line was 1) in my name and 2) that "was the terms our agreement and if I wanted him to have his own phone line I would have to pay for the installation." I ultimately got my own line just for the computer so I could pay more money. What a nice guy right? I mean, this was the guy who my friend Dawn and I agreed when we met him would be a good roommate.
Finally it all came to a head one weekend when I finally had enough of him bitching about the bills not being paid to his specifications or the cable or whatever. I was working a weekend shift at my old consulting gig and I forget exactly why he was up in arms but I got all of these emails from him when I got him saying things like, "If you're calling me at work just to fuck with me then you are playing with the wrong person." I hadn't even called him at work and I had told him on numerous occasions that I couldn't check emails at work since they blocked the mail sites. Finally, I got this voicemail that said to the following extent, "If this is how things are going to be then turn off the phone, turn off the cable, turn it all off."
So I did.
I called the phone company and had them suspend the line and leave a message that all calls could be taken on my computer line (that second phone line did come in handy). Mind you, the message said that the line was suspended at the customer's request (not for nonpayment as he said it did). I took the cable boxes from the living room and my room and condensed it down to one digital cable box and moved the TV from the living room to my room. If he wanted cable he could pay for it himself. If he wanted a phone, he could pay for it himself. I was reclaiming my life.
Well he came home ready to fight. He yelled and bitched and screamed and said that if he had to make a call he was going to use that line and tell his friends and family to call on that number. I just let him yell and make a fool of himself and actually one of his friends did call and I said they had the wrong number. He never made a call on my line because I made damn sure my computer stayed online the entire time. If his friends or family called outside of that one occasion I never heard from them.
Ultimately, I reopened the main line on the condition that he take it over and leave the voicemail open for a month to let people know they could call on my new phone number as I would just use my computer line for everything. As I told friends, sometimes to win the war you have to lose a few battles. Well in this case I only lost one but it was the one I needed to lose in order to win.
A few months later in December, he moved out as he was buying a house, I believe, in New Jersey. He didn't tell me until a few weeks before he moved out (although he did promise to pay the rent through the end of January which became a sordid mess of something else altogether). In fact, he didn't tell our landlady he was moving out until he actually started moving stuff out of the apartment and she popped her head out of the door to find out what was going on. His response to her, "What did you think was going on? Someone was robbing the place?"
So I saw him on the street last night. I was tempted to say something just to prove to myself that I didn't allow him to beat me down or keep me under his toe. But I let him go and I think that was the right decision. He's a miserable person with a nasty temper who has nothing but negativity around him and I'm better off not being associated with that -- even for a moment.
Monday, July 28, 2003
Sigh....the role of "gay sherpa of NYC" comes back to haunt me as this email has come to me and I have no idea how to respond to it....so...if you have info, you can always email me (look for the link towards the end of this page) and let me know if you are too embarrassed to actually tell in teh comment box below...of course you can always provide a fake name if you so choose....so here is the latest email I got....(please note grammar and spelling have been corrected to make this a coherent email)....
To: Brian the 646 Guy
From: Upcoming NYC Traveller
Re: NYC, Hustlers, and Locations
Hey there, love your blog and read it all the time. Hope you can help me out with this since you seem to know a lot about the ins and outs of the city. I'm coming to New York City next week and I want to live out a fantasy I've had for a while when I'm there. I want to hire one of those street hustlers and take him to a sleazy hotel and have an evening of hot sex. I guess what I'm asking is where do I find the male hustlers and what hourly rate hotels are located in midtown? If you can help, that would be great.
Okay I would say forget a hustler and find a male escort in the back of HX or Next or whatever that has in-calls and go to their place since it would be safer than doing it at a "sleazy hotel." Btt for this one, I'm turning it over to my other readers. Can you help this guy out? I'm afraid that my position as the gay sherpa of NYC is going to be in jeopardy after this one...so we need to find male hustlers in midtown and a place to take them to that has hourly rates....
Go people...you have homework.
To: Brian the 646 Guy
From: Upcoming NYC Traveller
Re: NYC, Hustlers, and Locations
Hey there, love your blog and read it all the time. Hope you can help me out with this since you seem to know a lot about the ins and outs of the city. I'm coming to New York City next week and I want to live out a fantasy I've had for a while when I'm there. I want to hire one of those street hustlers and take him to a sleazy hotel and have an evening of hot sex. I guess what I'm asking is where do I find the male hustlers and what hourly rate hotels are located in midtown? If you can help, that would be great.
Okay I would say forget a hustler and find a male escort in the back of HX or Next or whatever that has in-calls and go to their place since it would be safer than doing it at a "sleazy hotel." Btt for this one, I'm turning it over to my other readers. Can you help this guy out? I'm afraid that my position as the gay sherpa of NYC is going to be in jeopardy after this one...so we need to find male hustlers in midtown and a place to take them to that has hourly rates....
Go people...you have homework.
How could I have missed this?
I got home last night from Philly (more on that later) and I turned on the TV and started flipping through channels when I came across something that made me go, "HOLY SHIT!"
It was a Battle of the Network Stars marathon on the TRIO network. Yep, I got to see Gabe Kaplan run against Richard Hatch -- the original Richard Hatch of Battlestar Gallactica not from Survivor. And then there was the still hunky Gregory Harrison in a speedo during the swimming competition.
What was so impressive then (and I'm not talking abotu the fact that you got to see male celebs in Speedos (and not tucked either) and still is now, is that these people were seriously competing. You got money (which I didn't know until last night) based upon your team's total performance in the competition so these people were out for themselves big time here. I remember the obstacle course and I remember the relay race and the dunking booth. I mean this was one of hte few shows that I was allowed to stay up late and watch when I was a kid.
Well last night I tucked in with a cup of coffee and stayed up until 2 in the morning (VCR a-churnin) watching Joyce Dewitt and Tim Reid fling themselves across the monkey bars on the obstacle course. Robert Conrad getting hit in the face with a football. Penny Marshall in blue and white striped knee highs doing a cheer with Kristy McNichols. And what about when they brought in Simon Says and Mr T. blew a gasket? However, when can you ever see David Letterman go against Billy Crystal in an obstacle course race? Only on Battle of the Network Stars.
This was classic TV that can never be repeated and not because we have multiple networks now. It's just that you couldn't get the caliber of stars to do it that you would need to make it a ratings hit. People would be too concerned about making a fool of themselves on national TV by having say, Grandma from The Beverly Hillbillies knock down the foreign exchange student guy from That 70s Show in the dunk tank. Or maybe this time it would be someone like Mo'Nique from whatever show she's on (The Parkers, I think?) outrunning ER's Laura Innes in a footrace. And would the guys really put on a speedo for us to watch? No, I think they would be more demure in surfer trunks
Sadly, this is a show from the swinging disco era of the 70s that somehow made it into the mid 80s and died after one last gasp in 1988. I'm just glad that I now have some of them on tape for when I need a good laugh.
I got home last night from Philly (more on that later) and I turned on the TV and started flipping through channels when I came across something that made me go, "HOLY SHIT!"
It was a Battle of the Network Stars marathon on the TRIO network. Yep, I got to see Gabe Kaplan run against Richard Hatch -- the original Richard Hatch of Battlestar Gallactica not from Survivor. And then there was the still hunky Gregory Harrison in a speedo during the swimming competition.
What was so impressive then (and I'm not talking abotu the fact that you got to see male celebs in Speedos (and not tucked either) and still is now, is that these people were seriously competing. You got money (which I didn't know until last night) based upon your team's total performance in the competition so these people were out for themselves big time here. I remember the obstacle course and I remember the relay race and the dunking booth. I mean this was one of hte few shows that I was allowed to stay up late and watch when I was a kid.
Well last night I tucked in with a cup of coffee and stayed up until 2 in the morning (VCR a-churnin) watching Joyce Dewitt and Tim Reid fling themselves across the monkey bars on the obstacle course. Robert Conrad getting hit in the face with a football. Penny Marshall in blue and white striped knee highs doing a cheer with Kristy McNichols. And what about when they brought in Simon Says and Mr T. blew a gasket? However, when can you ever see David Letterman go against Billy Crystal in an obstacle course race? Only on Battle of the Network Stars.
This was classic TV that can never be repeated and not because we have multiple networks now. It's just that you couldn't get the caliber of stars to do it that you would need to make it a ratings hit. People would be too concerned about making a fool of themselves on national TV by having say, Grandma from The Beverly Hillbillies knock down the foreign exchange student guy from That 70s Show in the dunk tank. Or maybe this time it would be someone like Mo'Nique from whatever show she's on (The Parkers, I think?) outrunning ER's Laura Innes in a footrace. And would the guys really put on a speedo for us to watch? No, I think they would be more demure in surfer trunks
Sadly, this is a show from the swinging disco era of the 70s that somehow made it into the mid 80s and died after one last gasp in 1988. I'm just glad that I now have some of them on tape for when I need a good laugh.
Since most of you missed last week's homage to Sex and the City and Samantha Jones, I've decided to extend it out for another week but this time, I'm focusing on Miranda Hobbes since I adore her and want nothing but the best for her and Brady.
Quote of the Day
I know you're probably busy having mind-blowing sex, but I feel you need to know that your good friend, Miranda Hobbes, has just taken a piece of cake out of the garbage and eaten it. You'll probably need this information when you check me into the "Betty Crocker Clinic." -- Miranda Hobbes
Quote of the Day
I know you're probably busy having mind-blowing sex, but I feel you need to know that your good friend, Miranda Hobbes, has just taken a piece of cake out of the garbage and eaten it. You'll probably need this information when you check me into the "Betty Crocker Clinic." -- Miranda Hobbes
Sunday, July 27, 2003
Friday, July 25, 2003
You are the horniest of the horny. You want ass,
and you want it now. Lookout world, because
you are on a mission.
How Horny are YOU?
brought to you by Quizilla
And in response to this article from Gawker, I have taken Friendster whoring to a new level.
In my Friendster profile you will find the following people:
Alf
Miranda and Carrie from Sex and the City
Ginger from Gilligan's Island
Vin Diesel
Weed
Emporer Bush (who, incidentally, named me the Dictator of Rugby and the pro-consul of New York)
The city of Los Angeles
Sophia and Dorothy from The Golden Girls
Bernice from Designing Women
The three gay porn starring brothers of the Rockland Family
Tootie and Natalie from The Facts of Life
Kelly Clarkson
Sandra Day O'Connor (or as I call her, Sandy)
Dolly Parton
Anderson Cooper
OJ Simpson
Laci Peterson
Kobe Bryant
Gizmo from Gremlins
Jack and Karen from Will & Grace
....and so many more....so yeah, I do have real people in there but who really cares about the real people when in a few clicks you can be friends with Prince William?
In my Friendster profile you will find the following people:
Alf
Miranda and Carrie from Sex and the City
Ginger from Gilligan's Island
Vin Diesel
Weed
Emporer Bush (who, incidentally, named me the Dictator of Rugby and the pro-consul of New York)
The city of Los Angeles
Sophia and Dorothy from The Golden Girls
Bernice from Designing Women
The three gay porn starring brothers of the Rockland Family
Tootie and Natalie from The Facts of Life
Kelly Clarkson
Sandra Day O'Connor (or as I call her, Sandy)
Dolly Parton
Anderson Cooper
OJ Simpson
Laci Peterson
Kobe Bryant
Gizmo from Gremlins
Jack and Karen from Will & Grace
....and so many more....so yeah, I do have real people in there but who really cares about the real people when in a few clicks you can be friends with Prince William?
Shamelessly taken from another site: it's more about Paul Kelly Tripplehorn Jr, our new favorite Congressional intern.
Top Ten Reasons Paul Kelly Tripplehorn Jr is Better than You
10. Paul is at the top of the ladder and hates people like you.
9. Paul can ruin your career by making a few phone calls to his parents' friends.
8. Sure, Paul got fired from his unpaid internship on Capitol Hill, but at least he had one. Can you say the same?
7. Paul spells "hypocrite" the new, hip way. "hipocrit."
6. Same with "discusting."
5. (Paul undoubtedly learned how to spell at the "prestigous" Loomis School.)
4. With a simple phone call, Paul can get you "blackballed" from all of the "prestigous" law schools in the country. It should come as no surprise that his parents have friends that control admissions at all of the top schools, as it's apparent that he didn't get into school based on his stellar English skills.
3. Paul's daddy has a house in Aspen. That's just a simple fact.
2. Most everyone agrees with him about everything always.
1. Paul can project. Can you?
Top Ten Reasons Paul Kelly Tripplehorn Jr is Better than You
10. Paul is at the top of the ladder and hates people like you.
9. Paul can ruin your career by making a few phone calls to his parents' friends.
8. Sure, Paul got fired from his unpaid internship on Capitol Hill, but at least he had one. Can you say the same?
7. Paul spells "hypocrite" the new, hip way. "hipocrit."
6. Same with "discusting."
5. (Paul undoubtedly learned how to spell at the "prestigous" Loomis School.)
4. With a simple phone call, Paul can get you "blackballed" from all of the "prestigous" law schools in the country. It should come as no surprise that his parents have friends that control admissions at all of the top schools, as it's apparent that he didn't get into school based on his stellar English skills.
3. Paul's daddy has a house in Aspen. That's just a simple fact.
2. Most everyone agrees with him about everything always.
1. Paul can project. Can you?
So I was talking to my mom this morning and I mentioned my audition for Who Wants to Be a Millionaire? My mother said, "Oh Lord, why did you do that? Just tell me you didn' t use your real name..."
Then it dawned on her...she thought I auditioned for Who Wants to MARRY a Millionaire?
And she complains I don't listen....
Then it dawned on her...she thought I auditioned for Who Wants to MARRY a Millionaire?
And she complains I don't listen....
Woo hoo I finally got fucking Blogger to post for me again...so now you have DAYS to catch up on. How much does THAT suck! Of course I had to go to a whole new template but we shall see how long this one sticks around. I really liked the other one but oh well sometimes ya gotta do what ya gotta do....
Just tell me that you missed me!
Just tell me that you missed me!
Thursday, July 24, 2003
Sigh....Blogger still hates me and I have no idea of what to do to make it work. I'm just going to continue along and sooner or later this hiccup will end. Maybe I just need to move over to Blogger Pro.
Quote of the Day
Could you shave or something? Blowing you is like getting my teeth flossed. -- Samantha Jones.
Quote of the Day
Could you shave or something? Blowing you is like getting my teeth flossed. -- Samantha Jones.
Wednesday, July 23, 2003
So Blogger apparently doesn't like me enough to actually publish my stuff but I am undaunted and away I go...I may have to expand on this theme on Quote of the Week to include Miranda next week....but nevertheless, it's Samantha this week and away we go...
Quote of the Day
You have a lot of nerve telling me to get a wax. If you were in Aruba the natives could bead your back. -- Samantha Jones
Quote of the Day
You have a lot of nerve telling me to get a wax. If you were in Aruba the natives could bead your back. -- Samantha Jones
Tuesday, July 22, 2003
For some reason Blogger is being a total shit and not publishing anything as of late. It's not making me happy....I mean people been asking how they can bite my ass given the fact that I let someone do that to me in a bar...I mean really now, that's something I save only for really special people.... :)
Monday, July 21, 2003
This one is for my friends north of the border....I'm scared to know what would have gotten me the Yukon Territory....
You're British Columbia. You're hip and happenin'
but also a nice person who isn't a snob. Career
is important to you but it isn't your whole
life. People assume that your life is perfect
and that you have it all, like you were born
with a silver spoon in your mouth. But it's not
true; you do have your own set of troubles just
like everybody else.
What Canadian Province Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla
You're British Columbia. You're hip and happenin'
but also a nice person who isn't a snob. Career
is important to you but it isn't your whole
life. People assume that your life is perfect
and that you have it all, like you were born
with a silver spoon in your mouth. But it's not
true; you do have your own set of troubles just
like everybody else.
What Canadian Province Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla
So...let's talk about this weekend.
Saturday I was supposed to go to the beach with my friend Steve from the rugby team. We were going to head out to Jones Beach and then make the long trek towards the gay portion of the beach where the men cavort with each other and slather suntan lotion as if it was a bottle of Eros lubricant. Well, having not gotten much sleep this week, I wasn't really enthused about getting up at the ass crack of dawn to head down to Penn Station to get a train out to Long Island to take a bus to the beach and then make a fifteen minute hike or so to the Family Fun Zone (and in this case, the word "family" has a whole new meaning).
Steve called me at about 7:30 in the morning. My alarm clock had gone off at 6:30 but I turned off the alarm and decided that since Steve hadn't called me the night before, I could get in that much needed sleep that had been absent from my life for quite some time. At first I had no clue who I was on the phone with but when Steve asked if I wanted to blow off the beach on Saturday and head out on Sunday I said, "Oh that would be nice..." I wound up sleeping until about 12:30 or so in the afternoon and got in a little bit of cleaning in my apartment since I was going to do it on Sunday but those plans...well...off into the ether.
Although, I really have to wonder about myself since at about 1:00 in the morning Saturday night, I found myself flipping back and forth between an hour of Designing Women episodes and American Gladiators. Who knew Debbe, the Tool Time Girl from Home Improvement, was a two time American Gladiators celebrity champion. She was up against "supermodel" (and they had to be stretching that term) Jennifer Flavin, aka Sly Stallone's girlfriend, and handily kicked her ass into the ground.
Well, Sunday rolls around and it's time to head out to the beach...now it's been a long time since I've been to the beach and I wasn't planning on taking my shirt off or anything because I'm really, really pale and burn way too easily. But I did anyway because by the time that we had rented our umbrellas and hiked all the way down to the gay portion of the beach, I was pretty much sweating a bit and I figured that I might as well try to get a little sun. After all, I went through the entire gay pride parade without getting burned because I kepy reapplying sunscreen. It should work again right?
So, out on the beach with me were Steve, Turtle, Burley, and Burley's boyfriend, Frank. I did get into the ocean (with my contacts in of all things) and bodysurfed a few waves. Of course, I should comment that I didn't lose a contact but also, I can't swim. Turtle's reaction to this: You're from Florida and you can't swim? Well, since that wasn't a requirement for residency in the State of Florida and I had no plans on going on Survivor anytime soon, taking swimming lessons at my age, not really required. Turtle says this me, of course, after he asks me to join in the doffing of the swim trunks and placing them around my neck. I, of course, had to decline since I'm standing in the less deep portion of the shore and would most likely be seen naked should I get knocked down into one of the more shallow areas and I didn't feel the need to blind everyone with my blindingly pale ass.
We spent about four hours or so out at the beach and it was a nice quiet relaxed day. I did get a slight sunburn on my upper thighs and the top of my feet but other than that I'm fine. My forearms got some color but nothing to the extent of me being sunburned or anything. But let me comment on this...more often than not, the men wearing small speedo swimsuits shouldn't have been wearing them at all. The new swimsuit trend though are speedo style square cut swimsuits. Oh how can I better explain this...it's the swimsuits that are tight like the speedos but instead of having that distinct bikini cutout on the sides they are square cut across. Think something like boxer briefs as swimsuits. I'm sure one of you out there knows what I'm talking about so just tell me dammit!
After we got back into the city, I headed down to The Eagle for their beer bust (that's what they call it at least). Wrestler Guy wanted to get some of the team members together for a little social frivolity at our team bar and well...he never showed. At least not while I was there. Although that's not to say that fun wasn't had by all...in fact...yes...my bare ass was exposed for all to see as I was spanked a second time after complaining that the first round of whacks on my clothed bottom weren't hard enough. Of course, I turned around after my pants were pulled up and said, "That's it?" to which I was told, "Well, I don't have a belt!" Thankfully common sense took over and I didn't take my belt off and hand it to him. I'm still not sure how this next part happened but someone told my spanker to bite my ass and he pulled down my pants again and started nibbling on my butt. Well...what can I say...he didn't leave teeth marks which was kinda disappointing but on the good side at least one person said I had a nice butt. Well it's nice to know that the cardio machines are starting to pay off in some way. As I was heading out, I made some comment about "Some day my prince will come..." to which the cuter of the Wonder Twink duo said, "...all over you." Then he gave me a nice long hug, which, I have to say was kinda nice. Those nice long friend hugs can be the best, ya know.
After that, I had dinner with Crash and proceeded to go home and well...crash. I went to bed, for me, relatively early and hit the snooze button for a solid 45 minutes before I dragged myself out of bed and to work....
And that, folks...that was my weekend. How the fuck was yours.....
P.S. The correct answer to Reading Between the Lines was indeed #1 -- 50 Cent had nothing to do with helping a man in a pickup truck.
Saturday I was supposed to go to the beach with my friend Steve from the rugby team. We were going to head out to Jones Beach and then make the long trek towards the gay portion of the beach where the men cavort with each other and slather suntan lotion as if it was a bottle of Eros lubricant. Well, having not gotten much sleep this week, I wasn't really enthused about getting up at the ass crack of dawn to head down to Penn Station to get a train out to Long Island to take a bus to the beach and then make a fifteen minute hike or so to the Family Fun Zone (and in this case, the word "family" has a whole new meaning).
Steve called me at about 7:30 in the morning. My alarm clock had gone off at 6:30 but I turned off the alarm and decided that since Steve hadn't called me the night before, I could get in that much needed sleep that had been absent from my life for quite some time. At first I had no clue who I was on the phone with but when Steve asked if I wanted to blow off the beach on Saturday and head out on Sunday I said, "Oh that would be nice..." I wound up sleeping until about 12:30 or so in the afternoon and got in a little bit of cleaning in my apartment since I was going to do it on Sunday but those plans...well...off into the ether.
Although, I really have to wonder about myself since at about 1:00 in the morning Saturday night, I found myself flipping back and forth between an hour of Designing Women episodes and American Gladiators. Who knew Debbe, the Tool Time Girl from Home Improvement, was a two time American Gladiators celebrity champion. She was up against "supermodel" (and they had to be stretching that term) Jennifer Flavin, aka Sly Stallone's girlfriend, and handily kicked her ass into the ground.
Well, Sunday rolls around and it's time to head out to the beach...now it's been a long time since I've been to the beach and I wasn't planning on taking my shirt off or anything because I'm really, really pale and burn way too easily. But I did anyway because by the time that we had rented our umbrellas and hiked all the way down to the gay portion of the beach, I was pretty much sweating a bit and I figured that I might as well try to get a little sun. After all, I went through the entire gay pride parade without getting burned because I kepy reapplying sunscreen. It should work again right?
So, out on the beach with me were Steve, Turtle, Burley, and Burley's boyfriend, Frank. I did get into the ocean (with my contacts in of all things) and bodysurfed a few waves. Of course, I should comment that I didn't lose a contact but also, I can't swim. Turtle's reaction to this: You're from Florida and you can't swim? Well, since that wasn't a requirement for residency in the State of Florida and I had no plans on going on Survivor anytime soon, taking swimming lessons at my age, not really required. Turtle says this me, of course, after he asks me to join in the doffing of the swim trunks and placing them around my neck. I, of course, had to decline since I'm standing in the less deep portion of the shore and would most likely be seen naked should I get knocked down into one of the more shallow areas and I didn't feel the need to blind everyone with my blindingly pale ass.
We spent about four hours or so out at the beach and it was a nice quiet relaxed day. I did get a slight sunburn on my upper thighs and the top of my feet but other than that I'm fine. My forearms got some color but nothing to the extent of me being sunburned or anything. But let me comment on this...more often than not, the men wearing small speedo swimsuits shouldn't have been wearing them at all. The new swimsuit trend though are speedo style square cut swimsuits. Oh how can I better explain this...it's the swimsuits that are tight like the speedos but instead of having that distinct bikini cutout on the sides they are square cut across. Think something like boxer briefs as swimsuits. I'm sure one of you out there knows what I'm talking about so just tell me dammit!
After we got back into the city, I headed down to The Eagle for their beer bust (that's what they call it at least). Wrestler Guy wanted to get some of the team members together for a little social frivolity at our team bar and well...he never showed. At least not while I was there. Although that's not to say that fun wasn't had by all...in fact...yes...my bare ass was exposed for all to see as I was spanked a second time after complaining that the first round of whacks on my clothed bottom weren't hard enough. Of course, I turned around after my pants were pulled up and said, "That's it?" to which I was told, "Well, I don't have a belt!" Thankfully common sense took over and I didn't take my belt off and hand it to him. I'm still not sure how this next part happened but someone told my spanker to bite my ass and he pulled down my pants again and started nibbling on my butt. Well...what can I say...he didn't leave teeth marks which was kinda disappointing but on the good side at least one person said I had a nice butt. Well it's nice to know that the cardio machines are starting to pay off in some way. As I was heading out, I made some comment about "Some day my prince will come..." to which the cuter of the Wonder Twink duo said, "...all over you." Then he gave me a nice long hug, which, I have to say was kinda nice. Those nice long friend hugs can be the best, ya know.
After that, I had dinner with Crash and proceeded to go home and well...crash. I went to bed, for me, relatively early and hit the snooze button for a solid 45 minutes before I dragged myself out of bed and to work....
And that, folks...that was my weekend. How the fuck was yours.....
P.S. The correct answer to Reading Between the Lines was indeed #1 -- 50 Cent had nothing to do with helping a man in a pickup truck.
As promised a few weeks back, it's time for another theme week in the Quote of the Day...this week is dedicated to that saucy vixen who has had sex in more positions than most porn stars can dream of, yes, I'm talking about Sex and the City's Samantha Jones...(interesting how the word "man" is in the middle of her name, no?)
Quote of the Day
I'll admit I have had to polish myself off once or twice, but yes, when I RSVP to a party, I make it my business to come. -- Samantha Jones, Sex and the City
Quote of the Day
I'll admit I have had to polish myself off once or twice, but yes, when I RSVP to a party, I make it my business to come. -- Samantha Jones, Sex and the City
Friday, July 18, 2003
Quote of the Day #2
I know it's rare for me to have two quotes of the day but Jon Stewart said the funniest thing on The Today Show so I gotta share....
Pat Robertson is teaching morality to the children. He's saying if someone does something you don't like.....you pray to God to kill them. -- Jon Stewart on his take of Pat Robertson's prayer pledge to remove three Supreme Court justices.
I know it's rare for me to have two quotes of the day but Jon Stewart said the funniest thing on The Today Show so I gotta share....
Pat Robertson is teaching morality to the children. He's saying if someone does something you don't like.....you pray to God to kill them. -- Jon Stewart on his take of Pat Robertson's prayer pledge to remove three Supreme Court justices.
Because Crash is such a fucking bad influence on me...I should be in bed but instead...
You're Gangsta Bitch Barbie. You're tough and you
like it rough, and of course you like to pop a
cap in any wiggers ass.
If You Were A Barbie, Which Messed Up Version Would You Be?
brought to you by Quizilla
What rating is your journal?
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Threat rating: High. The Bush administration is
concerned that it may not get a second term.
Therefore, we are going to change the rules so
that each Democrat vote only counts as 0.2
votes because Democrat is a shorter word than
Republican
What threat to the Bush administration are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
You're Gangsta Bitch Barbie. You're tough and you
like it rough, and of course you like to pop a
cap in any wiggers ass.
If You Were A Barbie, Which Messed Up Version Would You Be?
brought to you by Quizilla
What rating is your journal?
brought to you by Quizilla
Threat rating: High. The Bush administration is
concerned that it may not get a second term.
Therefore, we are going to change the rules so
that each Democrat vote only counts as 0.2
votes because Democrat is a shorter word than
Republican
What threat to the Bush administration are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
Thursday, July 17, 2003
Isn't it sad when CNN find this story to be SOOOOOO newsworthy that it makes top billing on its website for several hours before being demoted to the "technology" category.....
Are we just on a slow news day?
Are we just on a slow news day?
So...it's time for a game I haven't trotted out in a while....Reading Between the Lines! Here are the rules again....four stories....one of which is fake...Tell me which story you think is fake in the comment section below...who knows there may be a prize this time! :)
1) Limoing through Madhattan with his posse, bad-boy rapper 50 Cent played Boy Scout when he spied an old gent in a disabled pickup truck stuck in horn-honking traffic. 50 Cent and his doggs got out and pushed the truck several blocks until the geezer was able to pop the clutch and restart the engine. He motored off happily while the rapper and his homies huffed and puffed back to their limo.
2) Jack Nicholson ain't gettin' younger -- but the chicks ARE! The 66-year-old stud's squiring new leading lady Amanda Peet, 31 -- a mere child compared to Jack's ex, Lara Flynn Boyle, who's 33. Sinfully steamy on the set of their still-untitled flick, Amanda and Jack are steady-dating on both coasts. She gushed to pals: "I LOVE spending time alone with him!"
3) Ladies fall down all the time for Colin Farrell -- but the sexy Irish bad-boy freaked when he thought he'd knocked one down with his Harley-Davidson! Colin exited a Madhattan boutique, hopped on his hawg and fired it up with a mighty roar – then looked startled when it suddenly leaped forward a few inches before he got it under control! Just then, a woman crossing the street -- freaked by the sudden racket -- tripped and fell in front of the star's bike…and Colin thought he'd hit her! Horrified, he scrambled to get off and help, but the bike suddenly toppled – and startled bystanders raced over to pull it off him! After a few moments, the confusion was sorted out, the woman said she was fine -- and people started clamoring for autographs! "Another time, please," said the shaken star -- and cautiously roared off!
4) Demi Moore let jailbait Ashton Kutcher out of her sight briefly as he exited the Screen Actors Guild, a gaggle of girls rushed up for his autograph -- and one begged him to ink her bra! Ashton obliged until Demi suddenly caught up, yanked him back by his HAIR and growled, "There'll be none of that!" The girls giggled and screamed as Hot Momma Moore marched Hunky Boy to the car.
So....do you know which one is the phony story?
1) Limoing through Madhattan with his posse, bad-boy rapper 50 Cent played Boy Scout when he spied an old gent in a disabled pickup truck stuck in horn-honking traffic. 50 Cent and his doggs got out and pushed the truck several blocks until the geezer was able to pop the clutch and restart the engine. He motored off happily while the rapper and his homies huffed and puffed back to their limo.
2) Jack Nicholson ain't gettin' younger -- but the chicks ARE! The 66-year-old stud's squiring new leading lady Amanda Peet, 31 -- a mere child compared to Jack's ex, Lara Flynn Boyle, who's 33. Sinfully steamy on the set of their still-untitled flick, Amanda and Jack are steady-dating on both coasts. She gushed to pals: "I LOVE spending time alone with him!"
3) Ladies fall down all the time for Colin Farrell -- but the sexy Irish bad-boy freaked when he thought he'd knocked one down with his Harley-Davidson! Colin exited a Madhattan boutique, hopped on his hawg and fired it up with a mighty roar – then looked startled when it suddenly leaped forward a few inches before he got it under control! Just then, a woman crossing the street -- freaked by the sudden racket -- tripped and fell in front of the star's bike…and Colin thought he'd hit her! Horrified, he scrambled to get off and help, but the bike suddenly toppled – and startled bystanders raced over to pull it off him! After a few moments, the confusion was sorted out, the woman said she was fine -- and people started clamoring for autographs! "Another time, please," said the shaken star -- and cautiously roared off!
4) Demi Moore let jailbait Ashton Kutcher out of her sight briefly as he exited the Screen Actors Guild, a gaggle of girls rushed up for his autograph -- and one begged him to ink her bra! Ashton obliged until Demi suddenly caught up, yanked him back by his HAIR and growled, "There'll be none of that!" The girls giggled and screamed as Hot Momma Moore marched Hunky Boy to the car.
So....do you know which one is the phony story?
Okay I'm totally bogarting this from Bob but it just cracks me up so much....do people not realize that their emails can be sent to other people and just don't give a rats ass what they say. I mean really now...if I ever sent this email to someone at my office I would be fired before the end of the day and not have to worry about it being sent all over the place. Some people are just amazing.
And before I even publish it, let me go on record and say that I agree with the congressional aide who said for someone who claims to be the former paramour's "intellectual, moral, social, and emotional superior," they really need to learn how to proofread or spell check...it's absolutely laughable what's in this....so, taken from Ms. Bob and to you...here is the latest intern "scandal" from DC...
Subject: you suck
Well, as of this afternoon, I was planning on ruining your career by making phone calls to all of my parents friends and have you blackballed from the workplace as well as every prestigous law school in the country, but then (lucky for you) I decided not to do that because you are a sad sad person and I will just let your life self destruct right before my eyes.... [name removed] I am sorry, I don't care how big of sadistic fucked up crush you have on me but people like me simple don't date people like you. You are too competitive with me and you just simply will never be better than me.
I will always have more friends than you just because I don't care about beating people and lying to get to the top. (You are an absolute hipocrit in everything that you do, I am not going to go into details why you are because that would be a waste of my time and yours but I can assure you if you were to ever meet yourself you would hate your twin) I have told most all of the staff about our situation now and they already knew you were really messed you. They said when you were talking to them about me, they all told me you had "serious issues" and that every word you said sounded scripted and they knew without a doubt that you were lying. I have noticed that people who you think are your good friends actually really dislike you but unlik! e me, they will not tell you to your face because they would rather be fake nice to you than be your enemy.
.... Now talking about how I am obsessed with money, I simply am not. You are. You always are trying to impress me by how much money you have and I don't care. The difference is though I talk about it but it is never about bragging and it is never directly about money, it is always directly about the conversation. Forinstance, someone will ask, what are you doing for july 4rth. And then I will say I am going to aspen. It is a simple fact that I am but since you don't have a house in aspen, you get offended because of your competitive nature. When you talk about money you will say something like UT's tuition is 5% of your family's income, thus my tuition would be 125,000. Yea, [name removed] you are right, I brag too much about what I have....
Well I am just going to stop writing because you are just absolutely beneath me. I have heard that you try to undermine people all t! he time that are better than you and everysingle time it does not work because people can see through such shallowness and that is why as I have heard so many times, Most "everyone at UT absolutely hates you." For instance even the people that you thought were your friends Mellissa [name removed] or that girl you met at espn, they hate you, they just never say anything. Everyone knows you are a pathetic social climber who will go to any discusting means to move up the ladder. But guess what [name removed], you will never move up the ladder because I am at the top and people like me hate people like you. You might be able to trick people like me for maybe a month or so but your true personality comes through after a while and it is vile, if that. You have sooooo many people that absolutely hate you and you will never know it because they will never say anything to your face. You will not succeed in life and even the staff thinks that also, after I told them about the things that you do. You suck! and good luck being miserable for the rest of your life. I do not even know why I wasted my time typing this for suck slime. Everyone tells me that you are so beneath me (which you are) and I should not get worked up over suck trifles.
By the end of the day if I wanted to, I could make a phone call and have your life absolutely ruined but there is no need because you are falling fast enough towards failure without me. In the end, all I can say is that people love me and people hate you. You should observe me and take a few notes on how to make real friends. Other than you tieing this one other person, I have never had such little respect for a human being in my life. I don't even have to tell you why because in my very accurate analysis that most everyone else agrees with, if you were to agree with my analyis about your character than my whole entire analysis would be wrong. Your inflamed ego has left you so blind and so impotent that you can nto even recognize the most o! bvious flaws in yourself. All your old roommates absolutely hated you and you still think the problem is with them, not you. Well I talked to your roommates and I thought they nice normal girls. So naturally, you would not fit in with them because you are so intellectually above them all. Right? You suck at life and you need to figure out why or you willbe miserable for the rest of your life.
Once again from your intellectual, moral, social, and emotional superior,
Paul Kelly Tripplehorn, Jr.
One article in the D.C. newspaper Role Call had the best quote:
"This young intern ought to know that one must learn how to use spell-check before one is even allowed on the ladder," one veteran Congressional aide cracked about the climbing-the-ladder aspect of the correspondence. "Now he should really go fetch me a latte and fill the copier with some paper."
And according to the Post, Mr. Tripplehorn is now working for another Republican who apparently doesn't care that he threatened to ruin the life of a former love interest. Then again, he's working for a Republican so I think that says it all.
Oh please, like you didn't see me going in that direction...
And before I even publish it, let me go on record and say that I agree with the congressional aide who said for someone who claims to be the former paramour's "intellectual, moral, social, and emotional superior," they really need to learn how to proofread or spell check...it's absolutely laughable what's in this....so, taken from Ms. Bob and to you...here is the latest intern "scandal" from DC...
Subject: you suck
Well, as of this afternoon, I was planning on ruining your career by making phone calls to all of my parents friends and have you blackballed from the workplace as well as every prestigous law school in the country, but then (lucky for you) I decided not to do that because you are a sad sad person and I will just let your life self destruct right before my eyes.... [name removed] I am sorry, I don't care how big of sadistic fucked up crush you have on me but people like me simple don't date people like you. You are too competitive with me and you just simply will never be better than me.
I will always have more friends than you just because I don't care about beating people and lying to get to the top. (You are an absolute hipocrit in everything that you do, I am not going to go into details why you are because that would be a waste of my time and yours but I can assure you if you were to ever meet yourself you would hate your twin) I have told most all of the staff about our situation now and they already knew you were really messed you. They said when you were talking to them about me, they all told me you had "serious issues" and that every word you said sounded scripted and they knew without a doubt that you were lying. I have noticed that people who you think are your good friends actually really dislike you but unlik! e me, they will not tell you to your face because they would rather be fake nice to you than be your enemy.
.... Now talking about how I am obsessed with money, I simply am not. You are. You always are trying to impress me by how much money you have and I don't care. The difference is though I talk about it but it is never about bragging and it is never directly about money, it is always directly about the conversation. Forinstance, someone will ask, what are you doing for july 4rth. And then I will say I am going to aspen. It is a simple fact that I am but since you don't have a house in aspen, you get offended because of your competitive nature. When you talk about money you will say something like UT's tuition is 5% of your family's income, thus my tuition would be 125,000. Yea, [name removed] you are right, I brag too much about what I have....
Well I am just going to stop writing because you are just absolutely beneath me. I have heard that you try to undermine people all t! he time that are better than you and everysingle time it does not work because people can see through such shallowness and that is why as I have heard so many times, Most "everyone at UT absolutely hates you." For instance even the people that you thought were your friends Mellissa [name removed] or that girl you met at espn, they hate you, they just never say anything. Everyone knows you are a pathetic social climber who will go to any discusting means to move up the ladder. But guess what [name removed], you will never move up the ladder because I am at the top and people like me hate people like you. You might be able to trick people like me for maybe a month or so but your true personality comes through after a while and it is vile, if that. You have sooooo many people that absolutely hate you and you will never know it because they will never say anything to your face. You will not succeed in life and even the staff thinks that also, after I told them about the things that you do. You suck! and good luck being miserable for the rest of your life. I do not even know why I wasted my time typing this for suck slime. Everyone tells me that you are so beneath me (which you are) and I should not get worked up over suck trifles.
By the end of the day if I wanted to, I could make a phone call and have your life absolutely ruined but there is no need because you are falling fast enough towards failure without me. In the end, all I can say is that people love me and people hate you. You should observe me and take a few notes on how to make real friends. Other than you tieing this one other person, I have never had such little respect for a human being in my life. I don't even have to tell you why because in my very accurate analysis that most everyone else agrees with, if you were to agree with my analyis about your character than my whole entire analysis would be wrong. Your inflamed ego has left you so blind and so impotent that you can nto even recognize the most o! bvious flaws in yourself. All your old roommates absolutely hated you and you still think the problem is with them, not you. Well I talked to your roommates and I thought they nice normal girls. So naturally, you would not fit in with them because you are so intellectually above them all. Right? You suck at life and you need to figure out why or you willbe miserable for the rest of your life.
Once again from your intellectual, moral, social, and emotional superior,
Paul Kelly Tripplehorn, Jr.
One article in the D.C. newspaper Role Call had the best quote:
"This young intern ought to know that one must learn how to use spell-check before one is even allowed on the ladder," one veteran Congressional aide cracked about the climbing-the-ladder aspect of the correspondence. "Now he should really go fetch me a latte and fill the copier with some paper."
And according to the Post, Mr. Tripplehorn is now working for another Republican who apparently doesn't care that he threatened to ruin the life of a former love interest. Then again, he's working for a Republican so I think that says it all.
Oh please, like you didn't see me going in that direction...
Wednesday, July 16, 2003
Okay does someone here read Chinese or know Chinese characters or something....because here's the deal...I got my third tattoo last night (which, if I am not mistaken puts me in the "Harley Riding Bad Ass" category) and I'm curious to know if what I had permanently inked on me means what the website I took it from (which sells these characters as well) says it means...so if you can help out...let me know...
I almost whipped it out (the tattoo not anything else you pervs) at the Chinese take out place last night to see if Vivian, the woman behind the counter, could tell me what it meant but I felt a little self conscious in doing that....so I just went home and ate my steamed chicken dumplings instead...
I almost whipped it out (the tattoo not anything else you pervs) at the Chinese take out place last night to see if Vivian, the woman behind the counter, could tell me what it meant but I felt a little self conscious in doing that....so I just went home and ate my steamed chicken dumplings instead...
Okay...word has it that Dave and Amanda from Big Brother 4 had sex (of which a video can reportedly be seen here).
So it took them four freakin' years to finally get people to have sex with each other on this show. Considering that it took a while before they did it on The Real World this seems rather quick. Then again wasn't there a couple on the first season of Road Rules that ultimately got it on in the season finale right? Or are all of these shows just starting to blend together and I should turn off my TV and get my own damn show...
So it took them four freakin' years to finally get people to have sex with each other on this show. Considering that it took a while before they did it on The Real World this seems rather quick. Then again wasn't there a couple on the first season of Road Rules that ultimately got it on in the season finale right? Or are all of these shows just starting to blend together and I should turn off my TV and get my own damn show...
Tuesday, July 15, 2003
Time for a somewhat gross posting...most of you know that during a practice one of the players pretty much squashed the living hell out of my toe causing blood to become trapped under the nail, having to release the blood from under the nail so the pressure would be less, same nail turning a lovely shade of yellowish-brown and slowly....very slowly, started to die.
Last night in the shower at the gym the toenail finally came off. Okay it came off except for one piece that insisted on hanging on as long as it possibly could until I finally yanked it out. Underneath, though, was a part of the toenail that is still clinging on for dear life...also there was this stuff that was on the underside of the toenail that rubbed off onto my fingers and smelled like...well it most closely smelled like toejam but it was a different stench and let me tell you that stench was hard to get off of my hands (okay, Crash, you so know you want to perv that line!)....
So here I was in the shower, holding onto my toenail and wondering what the heck is going to happen now to my toe? I'm assuming that a new nail will grow in its place but will it grow over the toenail that's still there. But it's just an odd sensation not having one there...or a partial one at least.
Okay maybe not as gross as I thought....
And while I'm at it...let me brag just a little bit...I passed the test yesterday afternoon to be a contestant on Who Wants to Be a Millionaire? and am, I guess, in the contestant pool. I will be getting a post card in the mail in a few weeks telling me more. Of the 85 of us (or somewhere along that number) that took the test, only 15 of us passed. I thought I had failed for sure but then again I always think those things when I take these tests....
Last night in the shower at the gym the toenail finally came off. Okay it came off except for one piece that insisted on hanging on as long as it possibly could until I finally yanked it out. Underneath, though, was a part of the toenail that is still clinging on for dear life...also there was this stuff that was on the underside of the toenail that rubbed off onto my fingers and smelled like...well it most closely smelled like toejam but it was a different stench and let me tell you that stench was hard to get off of my hands (okay, Crash, you so know you want to perv that line!)....
So here I was in the shower, holding onto my toenail and wondering what the heck is going to happen now to my toe? I'm assuming that a new nail will grow in its place but will it grow over the toenail that's still there. But it's just an odd sensation not having one there...or a partial one at least.
Okay maybe not as gross as I thought....
And while I'm at it...let me brag just a little bit...I passed the test yesterday afternoon to be a contestant on Who Wants to Be a Millionaire? and am, I guess, in the contestant pool. I will be getting a post card in the mail in a few weeks telling me more. Of the 85 of us (or somewhere along that number) that took the test, only 15 of us passed. I thought I had failed for sure but then again I always think those things when I take these tests....
Quote of the Day
Criticism is like champagne, nothing more execrable if bad, nothing more excellent if good; if meager, muddy vapid, and sour, both are fit only to engender colic and wind; but if rich, generous and sparkling, they improve the taste, expand the heart, and are worthy of being introduced at the symposium of the gods. -- Colton
Criticism is like champagne, nothing more execrable if bad, nothing more excellent if good; if meager, muddy vapid, and sour, both are fit only to engender colic and wind; but if rich, generous and sparkling, they improve the taste, expand the heart, and are worthy of being introduced at the symposium of the gods. -- Colton
Monday, July 14, 2003
Okay this is borderline pathetic...people emailing the FCC to complain about the American Idol results...I mean please...how painfully dull must your life be to go to this extreme?
This one...Arr!...is just for Joni...
Your Pirate Name is....
Mad Sam Bonney
Every pirate is a little bit crazy. You, though, are more than just a little bit. You can be a little bit unpredictable, but a pirate's life is far from full of certainties, so that fits in pretty well. Arr!
Your Pirate Name is....
Mad Sam Bonney
Every pirate is a little bit crazy. You, though, are more than just a little bit. You can be a little bit unpredictable, but a pirate's life is far from full of certainties, so that fits in pretty well. Arr!
Saturday, July 12, 2003
Thursday, July 10, 2003
Crash here. Okay, I'm out of the office tomorrow because of my move (see my blog for details) and my computer is packed away. Since I promised Brian a quote a day, I'm cheating a little and posting Friday's today. Forgive me, o blog gods.
Quote of the (Fri)Day
Woo hoo! Cheap meat!
-- Homer J. Simpson (a quote that coincidentally describes what Brian is looking for in a man. Love ya, babe!)
Quote of the (Fri)Day
Woo hoo! Cheap meat!
-- Homer J. Simpson (a quote that coincidentally describes what Brian is looking for in a man. Love ya, babe!)
Despite all my threats to the contrary, I will not be spilling all of Brian's secrets while he's up in the frozen north. I will, of course, be continuing with the quote of the day. In keeping with my personal tastes, they will be Homer Simpson quotes. So here's today's:
Quote of the Day
Maybe, just once, someone will call me "sir" without adding, "you're making a scene."
-- Homer J. Simpson
Quote of the Day
Maybe, just once, someone will call me "sir" without adding, "you're making a scene."
-- Homer J. Simpson
Wednesday, July 09, 2003
Ah....so Crash has offered to guest blog for a few days so I'm gonna give him the chance to do it despite his threats...so be kind to Crash for the next few days...he may need your kind indulgences....and ignore any and all stories about me that he may tell. Not to say they that might not be true....but just ignore them all the same....
Okay remember that TV Small Wonder? You know the show I'm talking about where the dad works for a robotics company and creates a lifelike robot daughter that just magically appears and everyone (including the neighbors) don't get the fact that this monotone talking girl who always wore the same clothes in every episode wasn't more than just a little off. It was, perhaps, the worst show ever produced. Then came Cop Rock.
As of late I've become obsessed with it...I read about it on TV Tome, JumptheShark.com, and turns out there are webpages dedicated to this show...so sing along with me...
"Small Wonder"
Written by Howard Leeds & Ron Alexander
Sung by Diane Leslie
She's a small wonder, pretty and bright with soft curls.
She's a small wonder, a girl unlike other girls.
She's a miracle, and I grant you
She'll enchant you with her sight
She's a small wonder, and she'll make your heart beat twice.
She's fantastic, made of plastic,
Microchips here and there.
She's a small wonder, brings love and laughter everywhere.
As of late I've become obsessed with it...I read about it on TV Tome, JumptheShark.com, and turns out there are webpages dedicated to this show...so sing along with me...
"Small Wonder"
Written by Howard Leeds & Ron Alexander
Sung by Diane Leslie
She's a small wonder, pretty and bright with soft curls.
She's a small wonder, a girl unlike other girls.
She's a miracle, and I grant you
She'll enchant you with her sight
She's a small wonder, and she'll make your heart beat twice.
She's fantastic, made of plastic,
Microchips here and there.
She's a small wonder, brings love and laughter everywhere.
Okay here's something for everyone to do while I'm away on vacation. A friend needs some help. She is wondering if her current beau is of the homosexual persuasion because many of her gay friends either thought he was gay or want to sleep with him (not to mention the fact that this belt matches his shoes)....so....help this dear friend out for the next few days and answer these questions:
1) How can she definitively know whether her man is looking for another man...
and
2) How can she casually bring this up without making a total fool of herself
You have homework...go...do....produce...
Smooches....
P.S. Friend will hate me now but it's all in the name of research....
1) How can she definitively know whether her man is looking for another man...
and
2) How can she casually bring this up without making a total fool of herself
You have homework...go...do....produce...
Smooches....
P.S. Friend will hate me now but it's all in the name of research....
Quote of the Day
Ma'am, one day you're going to have to realize that your ass, the size of Texas, isn't going to fit into a space the size of Rhode Island. -- Yours truly to a rather portly woman (who was overly fierce with her attitude) after she insisted I scoot over (and I was next to the pole) on the subway after she squeezed herself (and I do mean squeezed) into the smallest available subway seat on the train and had the nerve to tell me that there was plenty of room for me to move over (and I'm next to the freakin' pole too!)
Ma'am, one day you're going to have to realize that your ass, the size of Texas, isn't going to fit into a space the size of Rhode Island. -- Yours truly to a rather portly woman (who was overly fierce with her attitude) after she insisted I scoot over (and I was next to the pole) on the subway after she squeezed herself (and I do mean squeezed) into the smallest available subway seat on the train and had the nerve to tell me that there was plenty of room for me to move over (and I'm next to the freakin' pole too!)
Tuesday, July 08, 2003
Dear Alcohol,
First and foremost, let me tell you that I'm a huge fan of yours. Yes, my friend, you always seem to be there when needed. The perfect post-work cocktail, a beer with the game, and you're even around in the holidays hidden inside chocolates as you warm us when we're stuck in the midst of endless family gatherings. Yet lately I've been wondering about your intentions. While I want to believe that you have my best interests at heart, I feel that your influence has led to some unwise consequences, briefed below for your review.
1. Phone calls: While I agree with you that communication is important, I question the suggestion that any conversation of substance or necessity takes place after 2am.
2. Eating: Now, you know I love a good meal and, though cooking is far from my specialty, why you suggested that I eat a kabob with chili sauce, coupled with pot noodles and some stale chips (washed down with chocolate Nesquik and topped off with a Kit Kat all after a few cheese curls and chili cheese fries) is beyond me. Eclectic eater I am, but I think you went too far this time.
3. Clumsiness: Unless you're subtly trying to tell me that I need to do more yoga to improve my balance, I see NO need to hammer the issue home by causing me to fall down. Completely unnecessary. Similarly, it should never take me more than 45 seconds to get the front door key into the lock.
4.Pictures: This can be a blessing in disguise, as it can often clarify the last point below, but the following costumes are banned from ever being placed on my head in public again: Indian wigs, sombreros, bows, ties, boxes, upside-down cups, inflatable balloon animals, traffic cones, or bras.
5. Beer Goggles: If I think I may know him/her from somewhere, I most likely do not. Please do not request that I go over and see if in fact, I do actually know that person. The phrase 'let's screw' is illegal from now on. While I may be thinking this, please reinstate the brain-to-mouth-block that would stop this thought from becoming a statement, especially in public.
6. Furthermore: The hangovers have GOT to stop. Now, I know a little penance for our previous evenings debauchery may be in order, but the 2pm hangover immobility is completely unacceptable. I ask that, if the proper precautions are taken (water, vitamin B, bread products, aspirin) prior to going to bed/passing out facedown on the kitchen floor with a bag of popcorn, the hangover should be minimal and in no way interfere with my daily Saturday or Sunday (or any day for that matter) activities. Come on now, it's only fair - You do your part, I'll do mine.
Alcohol, I have enjoyed our friendship for some years now and would like to ensure that we remain on good terms. You've been the invoker of great stories, the provocation for much laughter, and the needed companion when I just don't know what to do with the extra money in my pockets. In order to continue this friendship, I ask that you carefully review my grievances above and address them immediately. I will look for an answer no later than Thursday 3pm (pre-happy hour) on your possible solutions and hopefully we can continue this fruitful partnership.
Thank you.
First and foremost, let me tell you that I'm a huge fan of yours. Yes, my friend, you always seem to be there when needed. The perfect post-work cocktail, a beer with the game, and you're even around in the holidays hidden inside chocolates as you warm us when we're stuck in the midst of endless family gatherings. Yet lately I've been wondering about your intentions. While I want to believe that you have my best interests at heart, I feel that your influence has led to some unwise consequences, briefed below for your review.
1. Phone calls: While I agree with you that communication is important, I question the suggestion that any conversation of substance or necessity takes place after 2am.
2. Eating: Now, you know I love a good meal and, though cooking is far from my specialty, why you suggested that I eat a kabob with chili sauce, coupled with pot noodles and some stale chips (washed down with chocolate Nesquik and topped off with a Kit Kat all after a few cheese curls and chili cheese fries) is beyond me. Eclectic eater I am, but I think you went too far this time.
3. Clumsiness: Unless you're subtly trying to tell me that I need to do more yoga to improve my balance, I see NO need to hammer the issue home by causing me to fall down. Completely unnecessary. Similarly, it should never take me more than 45 seconds to get the front door key into the lock.
4.Pictures: This can be a blessing in disguise, as it can often clarify the last point below, but the following costumes are banned from ever being placed on my head in public again: Indian wigs, sombreros, bows, ties, boxes, upside-down cups, inflatable balloon animals, traffic cones, or bras.
5. Beer Goggles: If I think I may know him/her from somewhere, I most likely do not. Please do not request that I go over and see if in fact, I do actually know that person. The phrase 'let's screw' is illegal from now on. While I may be thinking this, please reinstate the brain-to-mouth-block that would stop this thought from becoming a statement, especially in public.
6. Furthermore: The hangovers have GOT to stop. Now, I know a little penance for our previous evenings debauchery may be in order, but the 2pm hangover immobility is completely unacceptable. I ask that, if the proper precautions are taken (water, vitamin B, bread products, aspirin) prior to going to bed/passing out facedown on the kitchen floor with a bag of popcorn, the hangover should be minimal and in no way interfere with my daily Saturday or Sunday (or any day for that matter) activities. Come on now, it's only fair - You do your part, I'll do mine.
Alcohol, I have enjoyed our friendship for some years now and would like to ensure that we remain on good terms. You've been the invoker of great stories, the provocation for much laughter, and the needed companion when I just don't know what to do with the extra money in my pockets. In order to continue this friendship, I ask that you carefully review my grievances above and address them immediately. I will look for an answer no later than Thursday 3pm (pre-happy hour) on your possible solutions and hopefully we can continue this fruitful partnership.
Thank you.
Things I need to do today in preparation for my trip to Canada tomorrow (with commentary from my other personality)...
1) Clean apartment. (Nice try, Brian but there is no way in hell that you are going to get that done.....try something else...)
2) Find passport. (You're flying to freakin' Canada and you're taking your passport. That's sad...all you need is your driver's license right...then again I may be wrong so you better take it along anyway. Besides we know you just want to finally get it stamped since it's been empty for so long.)
3) Get money exchanged into Canadian dollars. (What? Like they don't have ATMs in Canada?)
4) Figure out if I'm going to get a tattoo and if so of what. (You have two tattoos already. One sometimes qualifies you as being "hip." Two makes you somewhat of a "badass." Three...well you're just asking for the leather chaps and Harley aren't you?)
5) Pick up laundry so I can pack tonight. (Yeah, thank God you're not going to be flying naked. I'm sure the passengers on the plane with you appreciate that as well.)
6) Find suitable reading material for the plane. (So help me God if you take Valley of the Dolls with you again I may revolt and force you to buy something really bad like a Danielle Steele novel. Be smart. Bring a pack of cards.)
7) See if there may be anyone interested in guest blogging for two or three days while I am gone. (What is this? You think people would actually want to write on this site? You can't bear to see it lie dormant for a few days?)
8) Call Mom and remind her I'll be gone for a few days should any emergencies arise. (Okay so this is sorta valid. I'll let it slide.)
9) Pray that I don't start using the word "eh?" at the end of every sentence once I return from Canada. (Not as if what you say already isn't annoying enough.)
10) Get laid before I go so I won't be a walking hormone. (Yeah, like that's gonna happen.)
1) Clean apartment. (Nice try, Brian but there is no way in hell that you are going to get that done.....try something else...)
2) Find passport. (You're flying to freakin' Canada and you're taking your passport. That's sad...all you need is your driver's license right...then again I may be wrong so you better take it along anyway. Besides we know you just want to finally get it stamped since it's been empty for so long.)
3) Get money exchanged into Canadian dollars. (What? Like they don't have ATMs in Canada?)
4) Figure out if I'm going to get a tattoo and if so of what. (You have two tattoos already. One sometimes qualifies you as being "hip." Two makes you somewhat of a "badass." Three...well you're just asking for the leather chaps and Harley aren't you?)
5) Pick up laundry so I can pack tonight. (Yeah, thank God you're not going to be flying naked. I'm sure the passengers on the plane with you appreciate that as well.)
6) Find suitable reading material for the plane. (So help me God if you take Valley of the Dolls with you again I may revolt and force you to buy something really bad like a Danielle Steele novel. Be smart. Bring a pack of cards.)
7) See if there may be anyone interested in guest blogging for two or three days while I am gone. (What is this? You think people would actually want to write on this site? You can't bear to see it lie dormant for a few days?)
8) Call Mom and remind her I'll be gone for a few days should any emergencies arise. (Okay so this is sorta valid. I'll let it slide.)
9) Pray that I don't start using the word "eh?" at the end of every sentence once I return from Canada. (Not as if what you say already isn't annoying enough.)
10) Get laid before I go so I won't be a walking hormone. (Yeah, like that's gonna happen.)
Monday, July 07, 2003
Okay so I guess I should start talking about my Fourth of July. I know I was supposed to attend two parties but wound up only attending one because I had my lips wrapped around those of this guy named John. Interestingly enough that's how he introduced himself. He was rather drunk and well....I'm not one to pass up a kiss....somehow this turned into a kiss with tongue....then another and another and another...
Ultimately we wound up on the bed of the party's host and then in the bathroom where we were making out like men who had been on a deserted island for about ten years and finally decided that they needed to have some form of affection and just went at it. Now I won't say that we kept all of our clothes on but we did keep our shorts on...
John is a pretty fucking amazing kisser and well...I'm working on getting his contact info because sadly I forgot to do that so I feel like a total moron.
So those were my fireworks this weekend. I tried watching them on the balcony at the party but with so many people crammed into a small place and the chance to watch them inside in air conditioning...well guess which option I chose...I mean there wasn't that much space on the balcony to actually watch and being pressed against the side of the wall just to barely see the explosions over some buildings wasn't worth it...
Oh and if I ever enter a chili competition I have the winning recipe.... :)
Ultimately we wound up on the bed of the party's host and then in the bathroom where we were making out like men who had been on a deserted island for about ten years and finally decided that they needed to have some form of affection and just went at it. Now I won't say that we kept all of our clothes on but we did keep our shorts on...
John is a pretty fucking amazing kisser and well...I'm working on getting his contact info because sadly I forgot to do that so I feel like a total moron.
So those were my fireworks this weekend. I tried watching them on the balcony at the party but with so many people crammed into a small place and the chance to watch them inside in air conditioning...well guess which option I chose...I mean there wasn't that much space on the balcony to actually watch and being pressed against the side of the wall just to barely see the explosions over some buildings wasn't worth it...
Oh and if I ever enter a chili competition I have the winning recipe.... :)
Well since I'm going to be on vacation for half of the week, I have opted not to do my special week that was pre-empted due to my tribute to Katharine Hepburn so it's just a regular week here....so here goes nuthin'...
Quote of the Day
The biggest devil is me. I'm either my best friend or my worst enemy. -- Whitney Houston
Quote of the Day
The biggest devil is me. I'm either my best friend or my worst enemy. -- Whitney Houston
Sunday, July 06, 2003
Okay I know I need to go into more details on what happened on the Fourth of July (especially since it involved me making out with a guy in the living room, on a bed, and in a bathroom) but that will just have to wait because I have two more pressing needs....
1) My cable is totally fucking me over. I have a cable modem and therefore I have the line splitter thing. I think it's fucking up my cable because I am not able to get in some channels clearly (or in some cases at all) and it's really starting to piss me off. Has anyone else had this problem and, if so, what did you do about it (beyond replacing the splitter thing which I know is really cheap to do but if there is something else I need to do I would rather know before I go out and buy something that might not really fix the problem)...
2) I am going to be out of town from Wednesday through Sunday and am contemplating my first ever guest blogger...so...first any volunteers to take if over for a few days and should I even do it?
I know....what pressing issues.....deal with it... :)
1) My cable is totally fucking me over. I have a cable modem and therefore I have the line splitter thing. I think it's fucking up my cable because I am not able to get in some channels clearly (or in some cases at all) and it's really starting to piss me off. Has anyone else had this problem and, if so, what did you do about it (beyond replacing the splitter thing which I know is really cheap to do but if there is something else I need to do I would rather know before I go out and buy something that might not really fix the problem)...
2) I am going to be out of town from Wednesday through Sunday and am contemplating my first ever guest blogger...so...first any volunteers to take if over for a few days and should I even do it?
I know....what pressing issues.....deal with it... :)
Saturday, July 05, 2003
Okay I promise to blog about what happened on the Fourth of July later but I have to apologize to Ms. Edie Singleton for not going to her shindig tonight....but I have a really good reason for it....I was making out with a guy....more on that later I promise. I just need to go to bed.
Quote of the Day
Okay I know it's a little late to be doing the final Katharine Hepburn quote so you're going to have to forgive me because I woke up hella late and went to a Fourth of July Party (which I will blog about in a moment)....but we have to finish Katharine Hepburn week so here goes nuthin'....
Acting is the most minor of gifts and not a very high-class way to earn a living. After all, Shirley Temple could do it at the age of four. -- Katharine Hepburn
Okay I know it's a little late to be doing the final Katharine Hepburn quote so you're going to have to forgive me because I woke up hella late and went to a Fourth of July Party (which I will blog about in a moment)....but we have to finish Katharine Hepburn week so here goes nuthin'....
Acting is the most minor of gifts and not a very high-class way to earn a living. After all, Shirley Temple could do it at the age of four. -- Katharine Hepburn
Thursday, July 03, 2003
I need someone to explain how Italian clothesmakers come up with their sizes. It boggles the mind.
I was out shopping last night. Well really not shopping just playing dress-up (because a guy likes to feel pretty every once in a while)...anyway, I found this nice pair of Italian pants that I liked and they were in my size and length and I went to try them on feeling all giddy that I was about to try on a pair of Italian pants. Okay, I have no idea why I felt so giddy but I did and I'm just going to have to live with that fact for the rest of my life.
So I went to try them on. What the hell were they thinking? First of all, the butt of the pants didn't even come close to holding in my not-as-large-as-it-used-to-be posterior. My thighs, which are somewhat large since I do a fair amount of leg work at the gym in order to play better rugby, had to feel like sausage in those plastic casings as they were tight as hell. And then the waist...don't get me started on the waist. I know my waist size. I've been wearing the same size for quite some time and it hasn't changed. These pants came NOWHERE NEAR being buttonable. I would have needed about three more inches of fabric on each side in order to get these things close enough to being buttoned.
So here I am in the dressing room wondering how in hell they can say that the pants are this size when it hits me....it has to be the wrong size right. The little plastic thing on the outside that has the waist size number on it has to be wrong. The little sticker on the leg of the pants giving the waist and inseam...it has to be wrong. I wriggled out of the pants the best that I could and looked for the tag inside the pants. It wasn't wrong. All of the numbers matched up perfectly. But these pants could not have been the size that they said they were. They would have fit right?
I took the pants back to the rack and got the size larger. Now mind you, I've already tried on pants that are the size that I have worn for the past few months and they fit perfectly (and made my ass look good too). I also picked up a similar cut pair of pants (not Italian made) that were in my size and took them back to the dressing room. The pants in my size fit perfectly. The Italian pants that were a size larger fit perfectly. I thought I had gone over into some other dimension.
What the hell is up with these Italian designers? Can they not get pants sizes right? Must I feel like I've gained about 40 pounds because I have to take a size larger? Get it together Italian pants makers. If I say I'm a size XX (do you really think I'm going to tell you my pants size?) then I am a size XX. Just because the men of your country may have slender legs and small asses doesn't mean that my big, burly American body can't fit into the same pair of pants...okay I was going somewhere with that but I think I lost my point....
Anyway...Italian pants must die.
I was out shopping last night. Well really not shopping just playing dress-up (because a guy likes to feel pretty every once in a while)...anyway, I found this nice pair of Italian pants that I liked and they were in my size and length and I went to try them on feeling all giddy that I was about to try on a pair of Italian pants. Okay, I have no idea why I felt so giddy but I did and I'm just going to have to live with that fact for the rest of my life.
So I went to try them on. What the hell were they thinking? First of all, the butt of the pants didn't even come close to holding in my not-as-large-as-it-used-to-be posterior. My thighs, which are somewhat large since I do a fair amount of leg work at the gym in order to play better rugby, had to feel like sausage in those plastic casings as they were tight as hell. And then the waist...don't get me started on the waist. I know my waist size. I've been wearing the same size for quite some time and it hasn't changed. These pants came NOWHERE NEAR being buttonable. I would have needed about three more inches of fabric on each side in order to get these things close enough to being buttoned.
So here I am in the dressing room wondering how in hell they can say that the pants are this size when it hits me....it has to be the wrong size right. The little plastic thing on the outside that has the waist size number on it has to be wrong. The little sticker on the leg of the pants giving the waist and inseam...it has to be wrong. I wriggled out of the pants the best that I could and looked for the tag inside the pants. It wasn't wrong. All of the numbers matched up perfectly. But these pants could not have been the size that they said they were. They would have fit right?
I took the pants back to the rack and got the size larger. Now mind you, I've already tried on pants that are the size that I have worn for the past few months and they fit perfectly (and made my ass look good too). I also picked up a similar cut pair of pants (not Italian made) that were in my size and took them back to the dressing room. The pants in my size fit perfectly. The Italian pants that were a size larger fit perfectly. I thought I had gone over into some other dimension.
What the hell is up with these Italian designers? Can they not get pants sizes right? Must I feel like I've gained about 40 pounds because I have to take a size larger? Get it together Italian pants makers. If I say I'm a size XX (do you really think I'm going to tell you my pants size?) then I am a size XX. Just because the men of your country may have slender legs and small asses doesn't mean that my big, burly American body can't fit into the same pair of pants...okay I was going somewhere with that but I think I lost my point....
Anyway...Italian pants must die.
Quote of the Day
Continuing with our salute to Katharine Hepburn....
The calla lilies are in bloom again. Such a strange flower, suitable to any occasion. I carried them on my wedding day and now I place them here in memory of something that has died. -- Katharine Hepburn as Terry Randall in Stage Door
Continuing with our salute to Katharine Hepburn....
The calla lilies are in bloom again. Such a strange flower, suitable to any occasion. I carried them on my wedding day and now I place them here in memory of something that has died. -- Katharine Hepburn as Terry Randall in Stage Door
Wednesday, July 02, 2003
Okay if you haven't finished reading the new Harry Potter book (The Order of the Penis or whatever it's called) then I suggest you stop reading right NOW....otherwise I might be forced to reveal that it's Harry's third cousin's maid twice removed from his Labrador retriever's poodle love slave's step-uncle's grandfather that dies in the final pages...you know...
Okay, I care not one bit about Harry Potter. I haven't read any of the books. I refuse to read any of the books. Someone told me when the first movie was about to come out that I was missing out on the pop culture revolution and would be totally out of the mainstream, I said, "Whoopie fuckin' doo. I listen to Ella Fitzgerald and Billie Holiday while reading Agatha Christie murder mysteries. And I'm mainstream?"
Okay, I care not one bit about Harry Potter. I haven't read any of the books. I refuse to read any of the books. Someone told me when the first movie was about to come out that I was missing out on the pop culture revolution and would be totally out of the mainstream, I said, "Whoopie fuckin' doo. I listen to Ella Fitzgerald and Billie Holiday while reading Agatha Christie murder mysteries. And I'm mainstream?"
The internet has pretty much destroyed the fun in arguing over stupid facts. Then again, it’s made everyone at work realize that I know way too much stupid stuff.
Today at work someone started talking about the David Copperfield illusion where he made the Statue of Liberty disappear. Well, having read an article about it in the Straight Dope (gotta love Cecil and that column), I explained how it was done (the audience was on a swivel platform. No one at work believed me. They didn’t believe me when I correctly named the four movies for which Katharine Hepburn won her Academy Awards or the fact that I could name the only two women to have won two Academy Awards for Supporting Actress (Dianne Wiest and Shelly Winters). So I did what anyone would do…I went to the internet.
I found this site which explained how it was done and they weren't impressed. They said I conveniently found one site. So I went out and found this site and this site to back me up.
But what really gets me is that before the Internet, we would debate things like this for days. Now the argument is over in minutes, if not seconds, and you can't even get a good wager in before you find the answer...
Today at work someone started talking about the David Copperfield illusion where he made the Statue of Liberty disappear. Well, having read an article about it in the Straight Dope (gotta love Cecil and that column), I explained how it was done (the audience was on a swivel platform. No one at work believed me. They didn’t believe me when I correctly named the four movies for which Katharine Hepburn won her Academy Awards or the fact that I could name the only two women to have won two Academy Awards for Supporting Actress (Dianne Wiest and Shelly Winters). So I did what anyone would do…I went to the internet.
I found this site which explained how it was done and they weren't impressed. They said I conveniently found one site. So I went out and found this site and this site to back me up.
But what really gets me is that before the Internet, we would debate things like this for days. Now the argument is over in minutes, if not seconds, and you can't even get a good wager in before you find the answer...
Tuesday, July 01, 2003
Apparently I'm part of the Gay Mafia and never even knew it. Wow. I'm kinda happy about that.... :) I'm right there with Dan Savage and Michaelangelo Signorile...now that's something to ponder...
Okay someone help out me and Crash here for a moment...how can being called "cute" be a non-compliment?
Someone please explain?
Someone please explain?
Dear Diary,
Today is the last day that I get to sit up all alone in the vast wasteland of empty cubicles on the 37th floor and do my work up there while the rest of my colleagues are forced to suffer working together on the 20th floor.
I won't have Debbie to play with anymore. She and I would sit around and talk about Sex and the City and bumpy underwear and why white people will never get to dance down the line on Soul Train. I won't have her doing her impression of white people dancing complete with finger snaps so off of the imaginary beat that it just makes you tear up from laughing so hard.
And Diary, that means I have to go back to my desk and do actual work. I mean it's not like I'm not working there but being up here on 37 gives me a sense of freedom that I don't have on 20. I mean if I wanted to run around naked on the 37th floor, I probably could. Not something could do on 20. They would want me to wear fishnets or something.
And then, Diary, I'm concerned about alien abductions. Is it just me or when I'm laying up in my loft bed and I wake up in the middle of the night and see myself seven feet off the floor I think that I'm being taken back into the mothership for another round of anal probing (and not the pleasurable kind either)? Are aliens taking me away to use me for some lab experiments? I swear I woke up one morning and it looked like one part of my leg had been shaved.
And, Diary, I'm concerned about people who are living without properly refrigerated vegetables. And people whose socks don't match. And about people who can't find the tilde on the keyboard. And people who can't tell the difference between Blanche and Sophia on the Golden Girls. And people who don't know what a kumquat is. And nuclear war.
Do I just worry about too much, Diary? Or is it not enough? Maybe I should just get my own late night talk show so I have the forum in which these things could be discussed. I mean, if I'm worried about them then I know someone else has to be as well....
Brian
Today is the last day that I get to sit up all alone in the vast wasteland of empty cubicles on the 37th floor and do my work up there while the rest of my colleagues are forced to suffer working together on the 20th floor.
I won't have Debbie to play with anymore. She and I would sit around and talk about Sex and the City and bumpy underwear and why white people will never get to dance down the line on Soul Train. I won't have her doing her impression of white people dancing complete with finger snaps so off of the imaginary beat that it just makes you tear up from laughing so hard.
And Diary, that means I have to go back to my desk and do actual work. I mean it's not like I'm not working there but being up here on 37 gives me a sense of freedom that I don't have on 20. I mean if I wanted to run around naked on the 37th floor, I probably could. Not something could do on 20. They would want me to wear fishnets or something.
And then, Diary, I'm concerned about alien abductions. Is it just me or when I'm laying up in my loft bed and I wake up in the middle of the night and see myself seven feet off the floor I think that I'm being taken back into the mothership for another round of anal probing (and not the pleasurable kind either)? Are aliens taking me away to use me for some lab experiments? I swear I woke up one morning and it looked like one part of my leg had been shaved.
And, Diary, I'm concerned about people who are living without properly refrigerated vegetables. And people whose socks don't match. And about people who can't find the tilde on the keyboard. And people who can't tell the difference between Blanche and Sophia on the Golden Girls. And people who don't know what a kumquat is. And nuclear war.
Do I just worry about too much, Diary? Or is it not enough? Maybe I should just get my own late night talk show so I have the forum in which these things could be discussed. I mean, if I'm worried about them then I know someone else has to be as well....
Brian
Quote of the Day
Continuing with our weeklong tribute to Kate the Great, here's another classic movie line from the Hepburn oeuvre:
I'd hang you from the nipples, but you'd shock the children. -- Katharine Hepburn in her Oscar winning role of Eleanor of Aquitaine in The Lion in Winter. Oddly enough she's referring to her jewelry in this quote.
Continuing with our weeklong tribute to Kate the Great, here's another classic movie line from the Hepburn oeuvre:
I'd hang you from the nipples, but you'd shock the children. -- Katharine Hepburn in her Oscar winning role of Eleanor of Aquitaine in The Lion in Winter. Oddly enough she's referring to her jewelry in this quote.
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