Monday, November 13, 2006

There Is a Very Good Reason Why I Haven't Updated

i have been working on a new project. that's why!


(ok, i am so not a techno geek. if that link or the link to the left don't work, go to iTunes and look up "reality tv roundup" - that's the best i can do.)

i have started a podcast talking about reality tv, knitting and whatever else pops up into my head.

Episode 2 is going up tonite and i will be using this blog to post show notes and links to other sites i ramble on about. in the 2nd episode, i talk about going to a fashion show that Tim Gunn from Project Runway hosted and HERE is a link to a short bit of video i captured during his and Angela's Q&A before the show.

i am not abandoning the blog altogether, but i just find it easier to talk than type most days. if i capture a pic of something i find really absurd, rest assured, it will be blogged.

i hope you like it!

Saturday, September 23, 2006

Post Office Theater - The Matinee

my mom and i share a house and we have our own division of labor that works well for us. she does the yardwork and i balance the checkbook. she handles calling repair guys and i promise not to attempt to cook, thus not burning the house to the ground. she does most of the housework and i run most of errands, like grocery shopping, paying bills in person and going to the post office. now, i hate going to the post office, but i hate mopping even more, so it's the lesser of two evils for me. (speaking of which - mom, the entertainment center is looking a little dusty. get on that, would ya?)

so, this afternoon, i had to go to the post office to mail two packages for her. i walked in and saw a customer arguing with one of the clerks. now, there is nothing i love more than watching people make asses of themselves in public, so this put a little spring in my step. i got in line and this argument was already well under way, but i was able to catch up fairly quickly. the customer had purchased a few postal money orders and now decided he didn't need them after all and he wanted his money back. the woman at the counter told him he could get his money back, but that did not include the processing fee. that was nonrefundable.

he was FURIOUS! and outraged that they would not refund this fee. how much money was this guy out to incite such rage? would he not be able to make his rent this month? would the kiddos go to bed hungry tonight because daddy wouldn't have enough for the happy meal? those must be some steep fees.

then the clerk said, "sir, you can get all your money back, but the 95 cent processing fee is not refundable."

95 cents.

so, they go back and forth, and everyone in line is riveted by this asshole and his 95 cents. the argument escalates and the clerk threatened to call the authorities at one point. he backed down after that.

that's when the clerk asked if he lives in (insert name of my city). he said he did and she asked to see his ID. when he handed it over, she asked if the address was current. after he confirmed it was, she proceedes to write down his name and address.

i turned to the guy next to me in line and said, "he is never getting his mail EVER. AGAIN. in fact, i think he will be getting all of our junk mail from now on."

the downside to this little spectacle was the fact that mister 95 cents was hispanic. i am mexican-american and was raised in the mexican culture. so, when i see hispanics acting like ignorant fools i just cringe and think, "you are making the rest of us look bad, asshole." then i figure they are probably puerto rican. and don't anybody jump my ass for that last comment. in the hispanic cultures, the brazillians look down on the mexicans, the mexicans look down on the puerto ricans and the puerto ricans look down on the salvadoreans. it's just the way it is.

on a side note, i took this pic outside the post office.


nothing had been freshly painted, certainly not the goddamned window. why was this sign there? it is still bugging me.

Sunday, September 17, 2006

Fat Kids, Dead Dogs and Cheap Ass Beer - A Photo Essay


this is an actual school that is near my house. can you see the name of the school? yes, the Lewis Carroll Academy. looks to me like someone didn't do their homework. opening soon next door, the Michael Jackson Day Care Center.


words on the ass of your pants or shorts are never a good idea. ever. sparkly words are grounds for capital pinishment as far as i am concerned. i spend most of my life making sure people aren't looking at my ass, so i don't understand why anyone would want someone else to actually read theirs.

the worst offense i ever saw was in iowa, land of the large women. we saw a gal that was easily a size 24, wearing blue sweat pants that read "baby girl" across her ample ass. this was made worse by the fact that basically there was one word on each ass cheek. and when she walked, her ass cheeks and the words moved up and down in tandem. it was dizzying to watch. yet, also mesmerizing. just say no to ass cheek art, gals.


i took this picture in an elevator in cancun last month. look at the stick figure family at the bottom. dad looks normal enough. sadly, mom is a peg leg. and the little boy is a tub! he looks like Violet Beauregarde after she ate the blueberry gum. poor, fat little junior.


ok, now this is just 12 kinds of fucked up and wrong. Old Yeller Dog Food. who would feed that to their dog? i fully expected to see Mama Cass Brand Sliced Ham in the next aisle. which is three aisles down from the Karen Carpenter laxatives.


here's how you can tell i was at the gross, ghetto Sav-On yesterday. on it's own grand display, for all to see, was Pabst Blue Ribbon beer, Old Milwaukee and Old Milwaukee Light beer. topped off with generic label cheez-its. i hauled ass out of there because i was scared to death that i might run into one of my paternal relatives.

Wednesday, August 02, 2006

Weird Things That Have Been in my Dog's Mouth Lately

first off, sorry that it has been so long since my last post. i could give you some sob story about how crazy my job has been, how tired i have been, blah, blah, blah. but let's be honest. the new season of Big Brother started last month and i can't tear myself away from the live feeds. apparently, watching Janelle color her roots at 12 midnight takes precedence over, well, everything else in my life. don't worry, i am fully aware of how pathetic that is, but the first step is admitting that your addiction has ruined other aspects of your life. but i ain't giving up the feeds. i am not a quitter.

anyway, back to the topic at hand.

my dog, Daphne, loves persimmons. that much we learned last year when she ate the 12,000 persimmons that fell from our tree.


there is not a fruit she will not eat. she is an equal opportunity fructose addict. except for the grapes in the pic. my mom did some research and found out grapes are lethal for dogs. who knew? so, no grapes for her. but all other fruits are fair game. a few weeks ago i was cutting up a pineapple and she damn near wrestled me to the ground for it. but i put up a good fight because a friend of mine smuggled that pineapple back from hawaii just for me. she can get her own law breaking friends.

i now have to eat my fruit locked away in a different room, otherwise she might pull out a stun gun and taser my ass to get at my watermelon. she's hardcore like that.

then there is the wood. god help me, the fucking wood. the dog will eat wood all day if we let her. hand to god, i have caught her chewing on the actual house more than once. the $1300 worth of bones, ropes, kongs, and balls that we have bought at PetCo are nothing to her. she wants lumber.

a few weeks ago, my mom trimmed the trees in our yard and left a lot the branches on the ground. now, before anyone accuses me of being a bitch for making my mom do the yardwork, please note that she likes it. and i run a lot of her errands for her, so it's a trade off. trust me, the woman has not seen the inside of a post office in about 10 years.

but, back to the branches. the dogs thought xmas had come early.


i can't wait until she figures it out and just starts gnawing directly on the trees themselves. how much wood would a pit/lab mix chuck if a lab/mix could chuck wood? we'll find out soon enough, i guess.

then there are the possums. yes, the fucking possums.

a few weeks ago, i let the dogs out for one last run at 10pm. while i was in the kitchen, i looked out the window and saw Daphne running in the yard with something in her mouth. the porch light was not on, so i couldn't see what she had. knowing she is a laundry thief, i thought she had stolen one of my sweaters off the washing machine. so, i went outside and called her to me. as she ran towards me, she activated the motion lights. the light comes blaring on and i see she has a live, medium sized possum in her mouth.


my scream was heard in 7 different time zones.

she had it by the torso, so the head and tail were hanging out of the sides of her mouth. interestingly enough, the possum was actually "playing possum." i was afraid that it would start fighting back, so i knew i had to get it away from her.

i ran in the house, grabbed a box and went out back again. i had to stand in front of her and use my high pitched, playful voice and ask her to drop the possum. choking back the screams, i stood out there, begging her, "drop the possum. give momma the possum."

miraculously, she did. the possum hit the ground, rallied for a moment and that is when i slammed the box down over it. then, i managed to get the dogs in their kennel. but i still had a possum in a box to deal with. i called my mom, who i knew was on her way home, to see how far away she was because i didn't think i could handle this by myself. she suggested i move the box to the far side of the yard, open the fence and shove it out that way. but i couldn't open the fence, so i had to wait for her to get home. me and my box o' possum. she finally got home and we managed to get the gate open and scooted the box across the yard and got it to the other side of fence.

after that, i opened a brand new bottle of Stoli and stuck a straw in it. yes, my dog has driven me to drink.

then 2 weeks ago, i was on the phone with my friend, Martha Jean, when i heard my mom screaming. i hung up, ran outside and saw the Daphne had captured another possum. how fucking stupid and slow are these animals? jesus christ, don't they talk amongst themselves? "hey, marty, stay away from the yard with the 2 dogs. the black and white one will catch your furry ass faster than you can say Possums Rule. seriously, dude, she's quick like that."

i'm thinking of buying the dog a muzzle. i can't take any more of this.

Monday, June 26, 2006

I Can't Make This Shit Up

my granny was just here and she wanted to watch her novella (spanish soap opera). these shows are notoriously over the top. soneone is always a whore, someone always has a secret past, someone is always undercover as a nun and someone is always someone else's long lost child that they gave up for adoption. tonight's episode was no exception.

now, my granny assumes i give a flying rat's ass about this show (sorry, i don't) and proceeds to narrate for me. these sentences actually came out of her mouth:

"oooo, she has a brain tumor."

"she's nice. everyone likes her. after the circus broke up, she took in all the circus people."

then she said something about someone's earrings but honestly, i didn't catch the whole thing. at that point i was in the kitchen trying to slit my wrists with a butter knife.

Monday, June 12, 2006

Knitters, Strippers and Angry Dads - Just Another Sunday Afternoon at Joann Fabrics

on sunday afternoon i went to my local joann Fabrics because i needed some knitting needles. and, yes, i did need them. i actually did not have size 6 double pointed needles, thank you very much. when i entered the store, i noticed that only one register was open and there was one customer. they were obviously having problems finding the correct price of the item she wanted. i didn't give it a second thought, and went on my merry way.

after i grabbed my needles and spent a few minutes perusing the yarn aisles, i went up front to pay for my needles. they were STILL working with the same customer. and now, there was another customer in line behind her. this made me third in line. while the fracas continued at the register, i amused myself by looking at the customer in line ahead of me.

where to start? well, let's start at the top. a weave the like of which i haven't seen since janet jackson's "velvet rope" tour circa 1986. moving down, i could not help but notice the cheap polyester halter top atop the painted on acid wash jeans. this outfit was completed by her 4 inch high stripper shoes. plastic stripper shoes. everything about her screamed "dancer at Secret Desires down by the railroad tracks." but then i thought i was being judgemental, and it was just as possible that she worked at an office or WalMart. i chided myself for being a snotty bitch and then i noticed that the line had grown and now 8 people were waiting and they were STILL helping the first customer.

everyone in line behind me was doing the "i'm pissed off but not about to speak up" sigh. taking the bull by the horns, i asked the cashier to call for help and open a second register. and i swear i asked as nicely as i could at the moment.

the next cashier comes, and tells the FauxStripper that she will ring her up because she was next in line. but then she asks FauxStripper how she is paying because her register doesn't have one dollar bills.

hand to god, the NotSoFauxStripper says earnestly, "oh, i have lots of singles!" i bet you do, honey and i bet i know where they have been.

as i made my move to get in the newly opened lane, someone tried to cut in front of me. it was a father there with his young daughter and they were buying supplies for a school project for her. the father was one of the pissed of "sighers" but i will be damned if he was going to cut in line. i said, a smidge loudly, "oh, i do believe i was next." i was the only one there with the balls to speak up, and this dipshit thought he was going to go ahead of me? oh, guess again, weekend daddy. guess again.

so, i finally paid for my purchase after the NotSoFauxStripper. but i paid with my debit card because no way in hell was i going to risk getting back one of her singles in my change. i don't need to get an STD from some fucking dollar bill.

Thursday, June 08, 2006

El Gringo

los angeles has a huge hispanic population and about 30% of them are related to me. i don't speak spanish, but i understand it a bit and can get by. even the non-hispanics here know at least a few words. well, most non-hispnaics.

the other day i was at my favorite mexican restaurant and in front of me were 4 very white teenage boys. so white in fact, that i am will to bet at least one of them was named Skip. i could hear them ordering and one boy mangled the spanish language so badly that it took me a minute to figure out what the hell he was ordering.

here is a phonetic replication of his order:
"i would like a POLE-O DEE A-SAD-A burrito."

ok, Skip, i don't expect everyone to know how to pronounce asada, but c'mon! have you never seen an El Pollo Loco commercial? it's POY-O, for christ's sake. i would love to see him try to order a Chile Relleno.

Thursday, June 01, 2006

Thank God She's Cute


even though the dogs are sisters from the same litter, they do have 2 very distinct personalities. Daphne, the one in front, is charming, but not real bright. Roxy, in the back, is smarter and much more dominant. this makes for some fun days at Chez Jelly. and by "fun" i mean "freaking exhausting."

a few Saturdays ago, i was asleep and was woken by the sound of my mom calling for Roxy. i cracked one eye open, saw that it was only 7am and promptly tried to go back to sleep. it takes a lot to get me out of bed before noon on a Saturday. then i heard her continue to call for Roxy and was mildly irritated that the dog wasn't coming when she was called. then my mom yells for me that she can't find Roxy and needs my help. i shot out of bed like my ass was on fire and ran to the backyard.

we have a high, wooden fence in the backyard and each side overlooks a different neighbor's backyard. so, we grabbed the step stool and peeked over all the fence sides, calling Roxy's name. the whole time, Daphne is following us and peeking thru the fence as if Roxy might be over there. when we ascertained that Roxy wasn't in any neighbor's yards, mom said she would get in the car and circle the block. now, we live on a busy, busy street. we didn't say it, but we both knew she would basically be looking for a brown smudge in the road.

mom takes off and i continue to call for Roxy, the panic growing by the second. i wandered back into the kitchen and saw the milk on the counter. (mom still hasn't gotten on board with refrigerating the dairy products. this is an issue with us.) but when i saw the milk, i realized that our fridge is in the garage (don't ask. long story) and knew that Roxy liked to follow her in there. the little, dim lightbulb went off above my head and i ran to the garage and flung open the door. sure enough. Roxy was there, tail wagging, having a grand old time playing by herself in the garage.

i turned to Daphne and said, "well, you are Fucking Useless. you knew she was in here the whole time and yet, still ran around the yard with us. never once did you run to the garage door and bark a la "Lassie's letting us know Timmy is in the well. Fucking Uselss."

she now answers to F.U.

Monday, May 22, 2006

There is a Reason They Call it the "Y" Chromosome

ok, so we all know men are from mars and women are from venus. we are different species destined to never understand the other. i am not going to delve into the cliches of men never asking for directions or women asking if these jeans make her look fat. but, there is truth in those cliches. men make about as much sense to women as katie holmes willingly giving birth to the CruiseSpawn.

that being said, we do manage to co-exist on a day to day basis without too many scuffles. but then, you will see something that is so completely testostorone driven that if defies description. that is when photos become necessary.


yup, fake balls hanging from a car. i GUAR-AN-DAMN-TEE you that you will never see a woman driving around with fake ovaries hanging off the back of her mazda miata. they say never say never, well, i am saying never.

i snapped that pic while in the drive thru line at del taco. and since Senor Dipshit (see about 3 posts down) is still running the drive thru at the speed of molasses, i had plenty of time to ponder the fake nads. the conclusion that i came to was that the faux nuts were the latex equivalent of someone that wants so desperately to believe something about themselves, that they repeat it constantly, despite the fact that it is completely untrue. think david brent of the UK version of "The Office" or michael scott in the american version. he is so spectacularly unfunny, yet constantly tells people how he is a master of comedy. the big, fake balls are the same thing. any guy driving around with those has less testicular mass than lance armstrong coming out of a cold shower.

and just having finished watching the season finale of "24" i can say without a shadow of a doubt that Jack Bauer would NEVER drive around with fake balls on his car. and yes, i'm saying never.

Saturday, May 13, 2006

Gauchos Be Gone!!

Dear Lady in Front of Me in Line at Best Buy Today,

as is the norm of saturdays, the line at my local Best Buy was long. so i had to plenty of time to observe and i have a little feedback for you. and obviously you need it as no one has ever told you some of these basic truths. first, let's start with your hair. now, you had a lovely Coach bag and your keychain was hanging off it so i could plainly see your Mercedes Benz car key. this leads me to belive that you are probably not living in the ghetto and clipping coupons for Top Ramen, that being said, how is it that you cannot afford a $4 bottle of hair conditioner? dry, frizzy hair with 2 inch roots is not pretty. take note.

your daughter was there with you and she appeared to be about 7 years old and about 30 pounds overweight. have you not seen the childhood diabetes commericals? i have. they are on tv every 5 minutes. pay attention to them and stop killing your child with twinkies. that's an order.

and why was she dressed like a mini, rotund hooker? Prostitot Chic is so last year. her cropped, skintight tank and ruffled miniskirt offically qualify her as the youngest "fat girl in skinny clothes" that the Unholy Smell has ever seen. but to your credit, at least there were no words across her ass like "JUICY" or "HOT STUFF." because at that point i would have called Child Protective Services on you. i would have done it in a heartbeat.

back to you. the gauchos. dear lord in heaven, the freaking gauchos. have you not seen these on other people? they look good on maybe 2% of the population. you are not in that 2%. not by a long shot. that knit jersey fabric clings to every lump and bump on your ass. why not just shine a klieg light on your butt and wear a t-shirt that says, "i love doritos and have the ass to prove it!" and be done with it? those gauchos weren't doing you any favors, so do yourself a favor and burn the fucking things.

i'm only here to help.