Thursday, December 30, 2010

My Friend Lindsay Is Crazy Like Me

I have known Lindsay (pronounced Lind-zay NOT lind-zee - get it right!!!) since kindergarten, and I believe even back then we knew we would be friends forever.  We used to participate in deep sisterhood-y bonding activities such as trying to aim spitballs out the schoolbus window.  She now lives far away from me (boo!), but she was in town last night, so we went out to dinner.

We went to a Mexican place, and the first conflict was deciding what to order:

Me: I mean, the tacos come in threes ... but am I hungry enough to eat 3 of them?  Oh wait, the rice here is so good too!  But I can't get 3 tacos AND rice!
Linds: Ok, here's what we can do - We can order the set of 3 tacos and each get a side with it, so we can split the tacos and have our sides.
Me: But what if I want 2 tacos?  That only leaves 1 for you.
Linds: Ok ok ok, I got it!  We get the 3 tacos AND THEN get a side order of just ONE taco, so that way we have a total of 4!
Me: But ... we don't like the same things on our tacos.  You get lettuce, and I can't eat that shit.  This plan will never work.

I eventually decided to just get the 3 tacos and the rice, and yes I ate all of it.  So there!  After that intense drama, we were in the car discussing tv shows:

Me: Do you ever watch "Keeping Up With the Kardashians?"  It's so funny!
Linds: No, but oh man, you know what the best show is?  "Richard Simmons's Family Jewels!"
Me: I've never even heard of that.  Does Richard Simmons legit have a family?  Does he have a husband?
Linds: A husband???  Oh my gosh, no!  Richard Simmons is the guy from KISS, not that workout guy!
Me: That's GENE Simmons, you moron!  RICHARD is the workout guy!

At that point, we were pretty much in uncontrollable laughter.  The night ended with me driving her back to her house and us debating Yes songs:

Me: Have you heard of the band Yes?  Please say you have. 
Linds: Yeah!  They did that song "Roundabout."
Me: What??  I haven't heard of that song.  I don't think you know what band I'm talking about.  They have a much more famous song than that.  Ugh, I can't think of the name of it, though.
Linds: It's "Roundabout" ... NO WAIT it's "Long Distance Runaround!!!!"
Me: Ok, no, this is not right.  What is that famous song called?
Linds: I'm telling you, it's "Roundabout!!!" (starts singing it)
Me: What the hell is that?  I have never heard of that song, and I don't think you know what band I'm talking about! (scrolls through iPod to find the song I'm referring to) ... It's freakin "Owner of a Lonely Heart!"
Linds: Oh yeah, I know that one.

Turns out she had the correct band the whole time, but I'm saying ... those songs are obviously not more famous than "Owner of a Lonely Heart" ... I mean, come on.

Monday, December 27, 2010

College Flashback: Bingo Night

Every so often, a group on my college campus would host a Bingo night.  My friends and I always attended because it could get quite entertaining.  Plus, once I won a dvd of It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown there - so that rocked.

The guy calling the numbers was always trying to get the players involved.  For example, whenever B-4 came up, he would expect the crowd to respond with "and after!"  And, naturally, we were supposed to join him in thinking that O-69 was hilarious.  Once, he announced to us that the way he called the numbers was "full of sexual innuendos ... and sexual realisms."  Sexual realisms??? 

Anyway, what we really showed up for was this one girl who would always be there playing too.  She would start off just quietly marking the spaces on her board, but then I guess when that got too boring for her, she would make these very loud comments directed at no one in particular.  She pretty much just said whatever popped into her head.  No filter.

One night, after we had been playing for a while, the caller announced that the next prize we would be playing for was a clock radio.  Well, Comment Girl apparently misheard him, and she kind of spiraled out of control:

"A CROTCH RADIO?!?!?  Where ya 'sposed to put that?  Do ya gotta supply ya own crotch???"

I mean, even if you didn't quite hear that he had said "clock", wouldn't your mind assume that's what he had said because the next word was "radio"?  Maybe that's just me.  Also, the thing about supplying your own crotch ... was she hoping a crotch came in the box, all ready to go?  I'm telling you, everyone was laughing so hard we couldn't breathe.

That same night, Comment Girl kept waiting for a certain number to come up that she needed.  I'll say it was N-32.  She was patient (well, patient for her) at first but then really started to get irritated:

"Ok, call out N-32!  I need that one!"

**2 min later**

"I told ya to call out N-32!  He ain't listenin' to me!"

**1 min later**

"Ok, I know what's goin' on here.  N-32 ain't even in there.  They took that one out so I would lose!"

About 5 seconds after that, the caller pulled N-32.  Of course, we all turned to stare at Comment Girl to see how she would react to this.  She paused for a second then told everyone:

"I don't know why ya'll starin' back here at me.  Some chick over there was sayin' all that N-32 mess."

I miss Bingo night.

Thursday, December 23, 2010


**Note: I am not at all a fat person ... well, not yet anyway ... when my metabolism eventually slows, I will probably weigh about 550**

Sometimes I go through weird phases, and one of those weird phases that often pops up is: eat everything in sight.

There will be stretches of days (or, um, weeks) where I must eat everything in the house and then go to the store to get more food and eat all of that as quickly as possible too.  I blame this on the fact that I am an adult with my own money and my own car, so I'm capable of making horrible decisions without a parent around to stop me.  Some of the horrible (BUT SOOOOOOO GOOD) decisions include:

1) Cookie dough dinner
2) Ordering like 27858435 combos at a drive-thru and trying to finish all of them
3) Seeing a commercial for ice cream and thinking "Ohmygod, I must go to the store and get ice cream NOW because who knows if I might die tomorrow and never get ice cream again!!!!!" (this also goes for cookies, brownies, candy bars, etc)
4) Going out to lunch with someone even though I just finished my own much healthier lunch 5 min ago
5) Using logic such as "Ok, I'm going to be good all day tomorrow, so I better eat all the bad stuff in the house right now so I won't be tempted!"

Many of these decisions result in me feeling like I could puke at any moment, but do I ever learn my lesson?  Hell no ... because food is the best thing ever.  One of my major issues is portion control.  I mean, I guess in most areas of life, going all out is a good thing.  People always say things like, "Go for it!  Don't hold back!  Take risks!" etc etc.  Well, I pretty much only use that advice when I'm in front of a huge plate of cookies and risking the possibility of one day needing a crane to get me out of my house.

Don't get me wrong, I love being thought of as an attractive, slim woman.  I would never want that to change.  My boyfriend sometimes has to talk me down when I start to get upset about my eating habits:

Me: One day, I'm going to weigh  A THOUSAND POUNDS!
Rick: No you won't.
Me: Oh yes, yes I will.  And when that day comes, you will be obligated to still love me and think I'm sexy.
Rick: Uh ... I don't know about that.
Me: Oh whatever, you'll probably be dead by then anyway!

See?  Aren't we adorable?  My boyfriend is 18 years older than me, so he COULD be dead once I reach my maximum weight ... and then I will probably think, "Go for it!  Don't hold back!  Take risks!  You never know when you might get the chance to eat another dead body!"

Just kidding ... ew.

But seriously, one of you needs to invent a thing that allows me to eat whatever I want without the negative side effects.  I will love you a lot ... even more than I love key lime pie.  Oh God, now I want some of that for breakfast.

Monday, December 20, 2010

Herman the Mouse

Let me first start off by saying that my boyfriend's apartment is not at all filthy or disgusting or anything bad like that.  Yet, every so often, a tiny brown mouse makes an appearance there.  My boyfriend (Rick) has seen him once in the kitchen, and a few weeks ago, I met him for the first time.  It was not a pleasant experience.

When Rick first saw him, he was washing dishes.  I was watching tv in the living room when I heard Rick say, "Holy shit!"  As a worrier, I assumed he cut his finger off while scrubbing a knife or something, so I leaped up and said "What??  What happened?!"  He then appeared in the kitchen doorway and said, "Um, I guess maybe I need to get some mouse traps."

I freaked out.  And, when I freak out, it involves me asking questions nonstop.  I guess I feel like if I know more information about the terrible situation, I can fight it better:

"Ohmygod, a mouse?!  Was there just ONE?  What color was it?  How big was it?  No, show me with your hands how big it was!  Is that an exact measurement?  Do you have a ruler?  Show me on a ruler!  Did it touch you?  Did it make a noise?  What direction was it running?  Do you think it has a family?  Is there going to be a whole FLOCK of mice in here now?!?!"

Yeah, pretty much like that.  And yes, I often misuse the word "flock" when I'm panicking about animals.

Anyway, for the next week or so I would only go into the kitchen if I were wearing shoes.  I was convinced that if the mouse saw me, it would run up and bite my toes off.  When I hadn't seen any trace of a mouse that week, I thought maybe Rick had just been hallucinating from dishwashing fumes or something, so I decided I could safely go into the kitchen in bare feet.

I was waiting for Rick to get home from work, and I decided to be a nice girlfriend and wash the dishes that were in the sink.  I wasn't thinking about the mouse at all (actually, I was singing "Our House" by Madness at the top of my lungs) ... but then I noticed a flash of brown fur move right by my feet.

Well, that was it.  I gasped and fled the scene with a cry of "PLEASE GET OUT OF HERE!"  (I'm glad that even when I'm about to have a heart attack, I can still be polite.)  I texted Rick that I had seen the mouse and was about to die, and he texted back that he was sure it was gone, but I was not about to go back in there.  I went back to the shoes-only rule for the next few days, and I added a little pre-entrance speech:

"Mouse!  Are you in here?  If you are, I'm going to close my eyes for 10 seconds, and that's the time you have to vacate.  Ready?  Go!" 

I haven't seen him since, so maybe he was just as traumatized by our encounter as I was.  However, I am now terrified to wash dishes in that kitchen.  I mean, so far he has only appeared while dish washing was going on.  Is it the scent of the dish soap?  Does he love the sound of running water?  Does he think we're making a jacuzzi for him in the sink? 

So yeah, a few days ago, I decided I needed to name the mouse in order to make him seem less like a toe-biting death machine and more like a cute little pet.  I picked the name Herman because I'm sure no one named Herman ever went around scaring people when they were innocently washing dishes.  Now whenever I walk into the kitchen, I make sure to call out, "Herman?  Are you in here?" just so he knows I have now named him and therefore accepted him.  Hopefully, even if Herman's actually a girl, she won't be offended and will embrace her new identity.

Herman and I will get along just fine ... as long as I never see him again.

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Store Alarm Systems and Me

I have a problem.  Lately, every time I enter a store, the alarm in that store goes off.  And yes, I said enter, not exit.  Why would an alarm go off when someone is coming into a store?  That would, in theory, mean they had previously stolen something without the alarm going off then decided to waltz right back into the store with the stolen item still on them AND THEN get caught for it. 

I feel like if someone got away with stealing the first time then had a change of heart and brought the item back, the alarm should at least make a nicer noise.  Instead of the loud dull beeping, it could perhaps be the sound of applause or someone saying "THANKS FOR NOT BEING A CRIMINAL ANYMORE!"  Maybe confetti could fall from the ceiling too!

I wonder if the person would still get in trouble ... I guess they would.  They did steal it initially.  Actually, if they're bringing it back, it's probably not because they had a change of heart.  It's probably because they are stupid and forgot to leave it at home.  But anyway none of this applies to me because I don't steal!

So seriously, why does this keep happening??  The even weirder thing is: it mostly happens in grocery stores.  Why would I bring stolen food back?  If I'm stealing food, I'm probably a starving person who HAS to resort to stealing, so I would pretty much chomp that shit down as soon as I exited the store.  No way would I ever bring it back.

But yeah, this is the scene:  I approach the grocery store, flinching because I know what's coming.  If the alarm DOESN'T go off then I just walk in probably looking like I'm about to crap my pants due to the flinching facial expression, and get a lot of weird looks.  If the alarm DOES go off, everyone in the store violently turns to stare at me. 

At this point, I want to appear as innocent as possible, so I usually act as if this has never happened to me before.  I make myself look very confused and alarmed (get it? haha) and shrug repeatedly.  I give the employees a look that says, "Whoa, this is totally unexpected.  I am a 100% law abiding citizen except for sometimes exceeding the speed limit, but only if I'm late for work.  I certainly do not have vegetables hidden under my clothes or in my purse.  I do have gum, but I paid for it here last week and I could show you the receipt but I threw it away because I'm not responsible and don't listen to my mother about keeping receipts."

So far, they have let me keep walking every time this happens.  I'm waiting for the day I'm hauled into some back office for questioning OR the day a cop happens to be standing at the check-out when I walk in.

Monday, December 13, 2010

Restaurant Bathrooms: Are They Ever Safe?

The gals and I stopped at a restaurant for lunch on the way home from AC yesterday afternoon.  After we ate, we decided it would be a good idea to pee before we got back into the car.  We were stupid.

Walking into that bathroom was a near-death experience.  An odor that was not of this earth was EVERYWHERE.  I couldn't tell which stall it was coming from, I couldn't tell how long it had been since someone had committed the act ... all I could think about was that I only had an estimated two minutes to live.

I darted into one of the stalls with my hand over my mouth and nose and tried to quickly pull my pants down, piss, wipe, and exit the stall using only my left hand.  The one-handed thing really shaved valuable seconds off my time.  By the time I reached the sink, I was gagging uncontrollably.  My friends were too, and I could hear Sarah puking her guts out in the far stall. 

Washing my hands was torture since I had to use both of them, which took away my somewhat protective barrier for my mouth and nose.  In the corner of the bathroom, a restaurant employee was standing there staring at us as if we had all gone crazy.  Did she not smell it?  Was she used to it?  Was she a freak who somehow enjoyed that smell?

But then it hit me ...


She was standing there, the woman who has completely destroyed the ladies' room, watching us all suffer, and probably really enjoying it.  I wanted to say something to her, but I was afraid of opening my mouth and somehow tasting the smell.  So, I shot her a glare that hopefully said, "You should probably be in a hospital if your body is capable of this, you horrible, probably-diseased bitch!"

We made a mad dash for the car, and once outside we all gasped for the "fresh" air (come on, it's Jersey) and started loudly complaining about the situation.  We were doing this as customers were walking into the restaurant, and we probably drove away a good amount of business during those few minutes.  Here is what potential diners heard:

Me:  It didn't even seem human!
Sarah: I couldn't take it; I knew I was going to puke.
Lydia: It was like a raccoon died and then DEFECATED on itself!!!

I will continue to have nightmares about this for some time.  Yikes.

The Crazies in AC

So, I went to Atlantic City, NJ this past weekend for my friend's bachelorette party.  It was a rockin' good time, and I even got to bring home a pretty pink penis straw as a souvenir!  Score!  While I was in that city, however, I noticed several things:

1) People will keep gambling even if they are falling apart and/or dying. 

I saw a woman there who looked about 975 years old.  She was "seated" (slumped over with her head bent and about to collapse to the floor) at a slot machine, not even looking at it, repeatedly pressing buttons and placing bets.  I mean, she couldn't even see if she was winning or losing.  Every time I thought she might have finally died and I was about to alert the casino staff, her finger would tap one of the buttons again.  She had probably hit the jackpot at least once without realizing it and then gambled it away.

2) The Boardwalk is hilarious.

This was the scene: The girls and I are walking around, acting like complete tourists, saying things like "Ohmygod, that old man is wearing high heels!", a million birds are violently flocking to each speck of dropped food and sometimes crashing into people along the way, and a woman is sitting on a bench loudly belting out "Kumbaya."  I made the mistake of dropping one of my french fries and was instantly surrounded by the birds.  It scared the shit out of me, so from then on I would toss fries in the direction of my friends and watch them freak out.  I'm nice.

3) Drunk guys, even in a trashy casino club, should not be allowed to dance.

This one dude was like nothing I had ever seen.  He would swirl his hips around in what would have been a seductive manner had he been female.  Then he would extend both arms in front of him and baby-step walk towards groups of girls while still doing the hip movements.  This had the effect of a sheep dog herding his flock.  He would baby-step/hip-swivel towards them with his welcoming arms, and they would quickly shuffle off to the other side of the bar.  I saw this happen with 4 different groups.  Eventually, he gave up and just danced around in a circle with himself.  I don't know if he just couldn't walk normally or if the hip thing limited how far he could get with each step.  Regardless, it was highly amusing.

Yeah, it was a fun weekend.