Monday, May 30, 2005

No Cinnamon For Me, Thanks

i swung by walgreen's this afternoon for a few "essentials." apparently, a smoothie maker was "essential," but i am powerless in the face of the "as seen on tv" aisle. anyway, as i was walking thru the parking lot on my way into to the store, i saw a shuttle bus from one of the local senior citizen homes. i knew there would be more than a few old folks in the store, but nothing could have prepared me for what i saw take place in the vitamin aisle.

i came upon this conversation between a very eldery caucasian man (customer) and an eldery asian man (employee). obviously, they were both a little hard of hearing, because this conversation was loud enough for me to hear clearly from the other end of the aisle.

Customer - "WHERE ARE THE ENEMAS?"

Employee - "CINNAMON?"

Customer - "NO! ENEMAS!"

Employee - "CINNAMON? YOU WANT CINNAMON?"

Customer - "ENEMAS! ENEMAS! WHERE ARE THE ENEMAS!!!"

Employee - "OH! ENEMAS! YOU WANT ENEMAS!"

Customer - "YES! ENEMAS!"

Employee - "AISLE NINE. ENEMAS ON AISLE NINE."

Customer - "AISLE FIVE?"

Employee - "NO! NINE!"

i have never heard the word 'enema' so many times in such a short period of time and i never want to again. for some strange reason, i am also pretty sure i will not be using cinnamon for quite awhile, either.

Sunday, May 29, 2005

Crap As Far As the Eye Can See

i have been channel surfing for an hour now, and have come to the conclusion that sunday afternoon tv is better than vicodin at putting me to sleep, minus the nice buzz. i have 1800 channels of CRAP available to me. here's what's on right now:

*The Indy 500 - cars going around and around in circles. um, isn't that just basically watching traffic?

*Punk'd - will someone please get the memo to ashton that screaming into the camera DOES NOT make you funny? although, watching celebrities cry is kind of fun.

*Lace II - now, i love bad lifetime movies as much as the next girl, but this drivel is more than even i can take. i cannot be expected to watch this shit sober. maybe i need a drink and then i will be able to stomach phoebe cate's underwhelmed acting style.

*Hunter - does anyone besides my cop obsessed brother STILL watch this low rent 80's detective show?

*Law & Order: Special Victims Trial by CSI - or whatever the fuck it's called. how many variations of this show can dick wolf come up with? what's next? Law & Order: Traffic Court?

*Clean Sweep - i don't want to clean my own damned house. certainly don't want to watch other people cleaning theirs. duh.

*Benny Hill - is this the best BBC America can come up with? this shit wasn't funny 20 years ago and it ain't funny now.

*ESPN Classics - now, i'm not intersted in sports games that are taking place right now, let alone some minor league baseball game from 1975. further proof men are retarded.

*Gastineau Girls - this is E!'s way of saying, "we couldn't actually get paris hilton because she is locked into that other show on fox. but here's some other brain dead socialites for you to envy." no, thanks. if i wanted to watch spoiled brats shopping with daddy's money and babbling about completely insignificant shit, i would go down to melrose.

*From Justin to Kelly - five minutes into that movie and i would be slitting my wrists. and not that "horizontal cry for help" slit , either. oh no, this would be the "vertical i mean business, motherfucker!" slashing.

oh, i just found Mother, May I Sleep with Danger? hell, yeah! i'm out of here!

Thursday, May 26, 2005

What is the Statute of Limitations on Child Abuse?

even though i am 33 years old, i am thinking of having my mom charged with child abuse. see, when i was just a wee little thing, she took me to the movies constantly. not happy, animated kid movies with an annoyingly simplistic life lesson at the end. my grandparents took me to those. no, she took me to every fucked up, scary movie made in the 1970's.

here's a rundown of the ones i can actually remember. i am pretty sure i have repressed the memories of others in order to maintain some semblance of sanity. and even that's been called into question on more than one occasion.

*JAWS - i was 4 years old and yes, my mom took me to see jaws. now, at 4 years old i had a little difficulty processing the fact that great white sharks live in the ocean. to me, water was water. after that movie i was 100% CONVINCED that a shark was going to come up thru the toilet and bite me on the butt and drag me down into the toilet. as a result, i never spent more 3.5 seconds on the potty. and those 3.5 seconds were a terror filled 3.5 seconds. to this day, i can pee faster than a speeding bullet. i don't know if this skill will ever come in handy, but it's nice to know i am prepared. you know, just in case.

*MURDER BY DEATH - i was 5 years old when she dragged me to this one. now, this was not a "horror film" per se, but it scared me so bad, that even now, 28 years later, i cannot watch the ending of it. if you have never seen it, it's a fun, mystery movie and the premise is all these fictional detectives from famous books and movies come together in one house to solve a mystery. at the end of the movie, nancy walker, who plays the maid, tears a mask off of her face, revealing another face underneath. and i think that is repeated a few times (maybe it's my faulty memory, but that's how i remember it and i sure as hell am not going to watch it again for clarification, thank you very much). so all i see is nancy walker tearing off her own face again and again. i freaked out so bad at that one that my mom had to take me out of the theater. i distinctly remember the long walk up the theater aisle and the whole time i was screaming, "MAKE HER STOP! MAKE HER STOP!" yeah, good times. but did mom learn her lesson? no, she did not. because next we have.....

*CARRIE - same year as murder by death, so i am 5 years old. the scene at the end gave me a mini stroke. yes, it was scary in the usual "dead hand popping out the grave, reaching for amy irving's neck" kind of way. but for me, it was doubly terrifying. because that gravel yard where the hand pops up from looked EXACTLY like my granny's back yard. guess how many years it took until i could play in THAT back yard again?

*ORCA - ok, so i am 6 years old and she takes me to see a movie about a killer whale seeking revenge on richard harris. i thought the large white spot on the whale's head was it's eye. (hey, i never said i was a bright kid, so please stop laughing at me) the whole movie, i was transfized by the large, flat eye on this whale and it scared the crap out of me.

ok, now here's where it gets good. i think this is going to be the strongest part of my case. this is the part where jack nicholson would be screaming, "YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH!" no jury in the world is going to take her side after they hear this. these next 3 movies all came out in 1979, so i was 7-8 years old at the time. oh yeah, mom is going down now. she better hope she looks good in an orange jumpsuit.

*THE AMITYVILLE HORROR - the flies, the disembodied red eyes, the creppy alarm clock, margot kidder's freakishly childish pigtails. all of these have left permanent scars on my psyche. and the kicker to this one is what my mom told me right before we saw it. i had done something really bad that week and was being punished. normally, going to the movies and the mall was a treat. so she tells me, "i am not taking you to this movie because you have been good. i am still mad at you. i am only taking you because there is no one who can baby sit you right now." um, thanks mom. in retrospect, i think the movie might have been part of my punishment.

*WHEN A STRANGER CALLS - seriously, what kind of drugs was my mother on??!?!? "check the children." and "why haven't you checked the children?" dear god, i almost peed my pants when carol kane opened the door and charles durning was standing there. i asked my mom a few years ago what the HELL she was thinking when she took me to that one. her answer? "well, you said you wanted to see it." so, apparently, my mom would have let me watch porn in 2nd grade, too, right? because, hey, i "wanted to see it." if i had known what a snuff film was, she probably would have let me watch that, too.

*HALLOWEEN - oh yes, the crown jewel of my horror film watching experience. this movie is probably responsible for 97% of my neuroses. now, you are going to want to make sure you are sitting down for this part, trust me. she took me to see 'halloween' THE SAME NIGHT that she took me to see 'when a stranger calls.' good one, mom. our local theater was in a mall and it was one of the first places to have multiple screens. they had four auditoriums. hey, it was the 70's, this was still a new thing back then. mom, granny and i had gone to see 'when a stranger calls' and granny (who loves a bargain) decides we should sneak into another theater and watch a 2nd movie for free. she's such an outlaw. well, the only thing starting was 'halloween.' now, here's where mom just loses her fucking mind. she decides that since i am a little freaked out from the first movie (you think?) that i should not watch this one. she tells me to curl up in the seat and take a nap. i was a strangely tiny child, so this was easy for me. then she covers me with her jacket. she covers all of me from the head down. so, here's my experience with this movie. i am in pitch black darkness, i can hear the creepy music, everyone around me is screaming bloody murder and the lady behind me is so scared that her legs fly up every time she screams, thus kicking the hell out of my chair. that's the kind of torture only a POW can relate to. where's my goddamn purple heart?

when i was a child, people always complimented my mom because i was such a well behaved, docile kid. they were wrong. i was shell shocked. so, if my mom ever offers you parenting advice, just smile nicely and back away from the crazy lady. slowly.

Monday, May 23, 2005

The Bitch Has a Case of Road Rage Worse Than Mine.

ok, let me start this by saying that all those recent california freeway shootings HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH ME. i swear. that being said, we have already established that i am a menace behind the wheel. however, the other day i encountered some chick that was way worse off than me. and that's saying something.

i was driving home on the freeway and going with the flow of traffic. it was a good day on the road, so i was able to go 60mph, which in itself is unusual. all my out of state friends are so scared to drive in los angeles, like they think it's the damn autobahn or something. when in actuality, most days you are lucky to be able to go 20mph on the freeway. so, there i am, zipping along and the girl behind me starts laying on her horn. i look in my rearview mirror, and this skank is flipping me off and screaming at me to speed up. um, listen Slutty McHoBag, i can't go any faster because there are cars in front of me and if i do go any faster the 101 freeway is going to look like Bumper Car USA.

so, then she changes lanes and i can just totally tell that she is going to try to speed up and pass me. well, that pissed me off. just a little. so i speed up just enough to insure that she can't get in front of me. then she realizes that the lane she is in is an exit only lane. so, she has to get back behind me. oh, yeah, i giggled at that one.

please note that all the while, she is still telling me i'm number one and screaming obscenities at me.

so, then she changes lanes to the other side and manages to get in front of me. still screaming at me. i could see her looking at me in her rearview and her K-Fed Wannabe boyfriend kept turning around in the passenger seat to flip me off, too. so, for the next 2 miles i just kept mouthing the word "WHORE" at her. oh yeah, they both saw me. at this point i had gotten a fairly good look at both of them, and it was just tragic. he was a scrawny white boy wannabe thug. shirtless and peroxided hair. please explain to me how that is supposed to be sexy. on second thought, don't. she was the kind of thin you only find in crack houses.

i go to get off at my exit and she is still in front of me and she is getting off at the same exit. that's when her crystal meth damaged heart starts to beat a little faster, because now it looks like i am following her. dumb slut. then i pulled out my cell phone and pretended like i was making a call. she thinks i am calling the cops, when in fact i hadn't even turned the damn thing on. the last thing this bitch wants is to get pulled over because i can guaran-damn-tee you there was at the very least 2 pounds of stems and seeds in her car. and he looked like he probably had a warrant or two out on him. not for anything glamorous like murder or armed robbery, probably just some unpaid jaywalking tickets. hey, if his girlfriend was driving his sorry ass around, i'm thinking he is a professional pedestrian.

the moron pulls into to the first gas station and i feign like i am going to pull in there, too. this had gone much farther than her little pea brain had ever anticipated and i think at that point, she might have peed her pants a little. i look at them, give them both the finger and keep driving. and i laughed the whole way home.

and kiddies, that is why drugs are bad.

Thursday, May 19, 2005

Nepotism Is Alive and Well

when you watch as much tv as i do, it only stands to reason that you are going to see a lot of commercials. the local business ones are my favorites. daddy's little girl extoling the virtues of a double wide freezer. trophy wife #3 strolling thru the family jewelry store purring "our diamonds are hand mined by blind, arthritic trolls in belguim. you won't find this quality at the mall."

my personal favorite is for a local carpet store. daddy's pudgy little 35 year old princess is star of all of them. they have been running for about 7 years now, and a new comes out every six months. first of all, the bitch still reads the cue cards in the most annoying, halting voice i have ever had the displeasure of listening to. she is such a dim bulb, you can almost hear her thinking.

spoken aloud -"our carpets are guaranteed to last 12 years."

(she stops talking because she is incapable of thinking and speaking at the same time. this is her internal dialogue - 'ok, stop at aisle 3, turn left heel and pivot.')

"we have a wide selction to choose from."

('face camera. lift hand. sweep hand over rolls of carpet just like the price is right girls do for the showcase showdown. when daddy comes into my room at night and touches my dirty parts, he says i am much prettier than them. then he tells me mommy is frigid and men have needs.')

"and we are open sundays."

('smile.')

compound her supreme lack of functioning brain cells with the fact that she thinks her size 16 ass looks good in a mini skirt, and you have got the makings of some DAMN FINE television, my friend. it's been 7 years and she STILL hasn't figured out that her thighs look like individual sides of beef.

another great local one is for an appliance store. i have yet to figure out why the sight of the owner dressed in a pink bunny suit is supposed to make me want to buy a washer/dryer. did this asshole lose a bet or something?

then there's the one that makes me start throwing shoes at the tv screen. it's for a place that sells tire rims. ok, first off, i do not understand the fascination with tire rims. isn't that just basically jewelry for you car? yeah, that's manly. the entire commercial is meth whores in bikinis straddling the rims and making pouty faces. are men really SO stupid that when their dick gets hard, their first impulse is to buy auto accessories? ok, maybe they are. let's move on.

then there is the crown jewel of stupidity. one of those check cashing/high interest loan type places. the tag line is "don't get caught with your pants down." meaning, i guess, if you need quick cash, come here and for only 57% interest, we will front you $200 bucks to pay your dealer before he breaks both your kness and anally rapes your ferret. anyway, the commercial shows some fat dude whose pants fall down. underneath the pants he is wearing a woman's teddy. i ONLY wish i were making this up. i have to guess that the guy killed himself shortly after taping that commercial, rather than face the nonstop ass beatings he would get if he ever dared to show his face in public again.

hey, my cousin has his own security company! do you think we would let me dress up like rainbow brite and do a commercial for him? i deserve my time in the spotlight too, dammit!

Wednesday, May 18, 2005

My Current Addictions, Because I Know You Care

Things I Can't Live Without

*diet vanilla coke

*marlboro reds

*Chipotle's roasted corn salsa - what do they put in that stuff? crack? i could eat it by the bucketload. watch me.

*john mayer - i can't talk about him too long without getting totally pornographic. let's just say it all goes back to my forearm fetish.

*Three Olives Cherry Vodka - and on the seventh day, god said, "and let there be flavored vodka." they left that out of the king james version.

*TiVo - seriously, i never thought a damn DVR would change my life. the problem is now i find myself wanting to rewind other parts of my life, not just live tv. i can be driving along with the radio on and kind of zone out for a few minutes. but, really, i'm a good driver. no, really. then i find myself reaching for the nonexistant remote control so i can rewind the radio.

*john mayer - any man that hot deserves two mentions on this list. i mean, have you SEEN his forearms??!!??

*good yarn - if my house were on fire, i would grab the dog and my yarn and my knitting needles. hell, i probably have about 10 grand worth of yarn in my house. none of that cheap ass Red Heart yarn for me. oh no, i am a total yarn ho. imported from england or japan? oh, i am so there. i really need a cheaper hobby. why couldn't i have taken up bird watching?

*dooce.com - i get real antsy without my daily dose of chuck and leta. will someone PLEASE tell heather that her habit of not posting on weekends really pisses me off?

*reality tv - big brother, amazing race, real world/road rules challenge. oh, how do i love thee? let me count the ways. the escaped mental patients that make up these casts are my reason for breathing. the evil dr. will shall forever be my hero. he was lying, cheating scum. he told his housemates, "i will lie right to your face. i will stab you in the back." but everyone still believed him when he said, "oh no, i would never vote you off. i've got your back." oh, it was sheer genius. and now, we have manna from the heavens in the form of britney and the sperminator's new series. after i watched it, i said to god, "you like me. YOU REALLY LIKE ME!"

*john mayer - no, i'm not obssessed. why do you ask?

*my iPod - it's my own little, silver miracle. i mean, it's so TINY! how does it hold so many songs. it just boggles my vodka addled brain.

*the rabbit - girls, you know what i am talking about. god bless japanese innovation.

*"a prayer for owen meany" - if you didn't just love this book more than life itself, you are dead to me. dead.

*ticketmaster.com - i have not had to stand in a wristband line for about 5 years, and for that, i am forever grateful. because i ALWAYS get totally screwed on the whole wristband deal. i pull out number 12. and then the manager of Tower Records (and you always knew he was the manager because he had the NICER red vest) comes out and announces, "we will be starting with number 14! please line up accordingly." then there's me, screaming, "motherFUCKER!"

*my kodak easy share camera - 6.1 megapixels, BABY! now all my friend's drunken debauchery can be captured in razor sharp detail. on my last vacation, i took 158 photos. all of them were taken in the bar. it looks like i spent 5 days straight in the hilton bar. well, i guess i kind of did.

Monday, May 16, 2005

All Those Years Spent Perfecting My Blow Job Technique Were A Big Waste of Time

i have fucking HAD IT with men. they are impossible, disgusting, frustrating creatures and i don't want anything to do with them anymore. i am going to look into this lesbian business. it has to be better, right? because if a woman is being moody and inscrutable, then i can just chalk it up to PMS. and i will know that it will pass within a few days.

CrushBoy is being A MAN. scratch that, he is being A BOY. i sucked it up and actually kind of asked him out. in a casual, friendly sort of way. i didn't ask him on a "date" but i did ask him to go to a concert with me this coming saturday. do you think i have gotten a straight answer from him yet? DO YOU? no, i have not. now, granted, his band is playing a show that day and the schedule is not set in stone yet, but really, how fucking hard is it to get the info and actually *gasp* make definite plans?

so, i am thinking gay is the way to go. no more of this bullshit. and hey, i watch the L Word. that one that plays shane, she's kind of hot. see, i'm already half way there. plus, those chicks wear some pretty awesome clothes. i'm down with that. and don't even get me started on the cute shoes. and if i find a girlfriend that wears the same size as me, we could even share clothes. i think i can really do this. especially when you consider the cute shoes.

what does a man have to offer that i can't get from a woman? scintillating conversation? self esteem boosts? comfort? companionship? hell, i already get that from my girls. after all, men are just bigger, hairer, stupider versions of women.

the sex? well, what woman doesn't like oral sex best of all? and really, anyone can do that. and i am thinking a woman can do it even better. then there is the added bonus of not having some dude's five o'clock shadow digging into my nether regions. certain parts of the body were NEVER meant to get beard burned and my naughty bits are at the top of that list. i will just have to stay away from the bull dykes with facial hair. besides, look at how much money i spend at sephora. i think i am one of those "lipstick lesbians." ok, this is sounding better and better.

i will never again have to listen to some neanderthal drone on and on about sports and batting averages and field goals. my new hot girlfriend and i will curl up in bed on a sunday morning and watch charlie rose, not professional golf. we could even cancel ESPN from the cable package because we WILL NEVER EVER WATCH IT. oh, that's a beautiful sentence. it's like poetry to me.

and i think those little rainbow bumper stickers are really kind of cute. i would not mind having one on my car. it would look really pretty against the silver paint. but i draw the line at referring to women as womyn. what the fuck is that about? get a life, people.

of course, you do realize that all of this will be a distant memory the second john mayer comes knocking at my door? i would totally change back for him. he is so destined to be my first husband. he just doesn't know it yet. it's just the rest of the penis toting population that needs to stay the hell away from me.

Sunday, May 15, 2005

In Case You Didn't Already Know I'm Crazy

sometimes my own thought process scares me. here is a sampling of some of the more insane things to flit thru my head recently. enter at your own risk. pregnant women, people with pacemakers and heart conditions should turn around and go get in line for the merry go round, because this is going to be a bumpy ride.

*every year, i go get my pap like a good little girl. and every freaking year, i have the exact same thought. "this is how i am going to die. i just know it. this is los angeles. the BIG earthquake is going to hit while i am the middle of my exam. the firemen will come and lift the rubble from my lifeless body. and there i will be, naked from the waist down, with a goddamned speculum inside of me. rigor mortis will have set in and that's how they are going to have to bury me. legs up in the air. i wonder if they even make coffins to accommodate that." and the doc wonders why i can't relax during the exam.

*recently i had a boobie scare. i found a lump. now let me tell you, that's a scary fucking moment. i indulged myself in 10 minutes of sheer terror, then got my shit together and made a doctor's appointment for the next day. i did some online research and talked to some friends. all signs pointed to the fact that it would probably be nothing more than a cyst. logically, i knew this. but part of me was still convinced that my smoking had finally caught up with me and my imaginary lung tumor was now so big that it had pushed it's way thru my chest cavity and into my boobie. i probably should have paid more attention in biology class.
p.s. it was just a cyst. just a run of the mill, fluid filled sac. i now refer to it as my mini implant.

*i worked for DemonBitch for 9 years. she was a monster masquerading as a fashion designer. i worked my ass off for that whore and she rewarded me by firing me merely because i dared to suggest that her 25 year old dipshit boyfriend DID NOT know how to run her business. and then the bitch tried to screw me out of collecting unemployment. yeah, i'm still pretty fucking bitter. it's been over 2 years since she fired me, and i STILL have dreams where i go back to work for her. what the hell is wrong with me that some part of my brain thinks that would be OK??? jesus christ, i guess it's a good thing i never got into an abusive realtionship with a man, because apparently, I WOULD GO BACK FOR MORE.

*some part of me still really believes that magic fairies are going to come and clean my house for me. they haven't got here yet, but i'm hopeful. oh, and when they get here, they are going to balance my checkbook, too. i'm sure of it.

*i am POSITIVE i am destined to win the lottery. and every week that i don't win, i am truly a little disappointed. i really am. but, i just know it will happen soon. and i even have everything planned out. i will be "anonymous winner from los angeles." can't risk my asshole father reappearing out of left field to try and claim some of MY winnings. and i really, really, really deserve to win. because i would take care of the rest of my family and friends and donate loads to charity. i would be such a good lotto winner.

i really need to be medicated.

Thursday, May 12, 2005

I Want Shoes, Not Babies

i decided many years ago that marriage and family was not for me. now, i am not totally opposed to marriage, but i ain't looking for it, either. if it happens, it happens. whatever. but babies, well that i AM opposed to. i don't want them and never have. i think if you are going to have a baby, you should want it more than anything in the whole wide world. i, on the other hand, want the ebola virus about as much as i want kids.

i am really lucky in that my mom does not pressure me at all for grandkids. my best friend has 3 little girls and mom gets all her "grandma" time with them. mom's cool that way.

it's the rest of the fucking world that needs to get off my back. i KNOW i am not the only woman that feels this way, but give me a damned break already.

here are some of the more idiotic things i have been told.

1.) "if you don't have babies, you will never be a REAL woman." - well, damn, color me ignorant. i thought my XX chromosomes pretty much took care of that, but what the hell do i know?

2.) "who will take care of you in your old age?" - seriously, is that a valid reason to procreate? and if so, why do people have more than one kid? "well, we had roger just in case billy turns out to be a total loser and can't make enough money to supplement our social security benefits."

3.) "oh, you'll change your mind." - um, no. if i told people that i didn't want to be a professional female mud wrestler, would they tell me, "oh, you'll change your mind." both options are equally appealing to me. my manicurist is especially fond of spouting off that bit of idiocy. if she didn't do such a damn good job on my nails, i would dump her scrawny ass in a heartbeat.

4.) "but what if your husband wants kids?" - well, then, i guess he's shit out of luck, isn't he? unless, he is willing to get pregnant and give birth and all i have to do is sit around, drink beer and scratch myself. i could go for that.

NOTHING about pregnancy, childbirth or parenting appeals to me. when my friends get pregnant, they always want me to touch their distended bellies and feel the baby kick. i'm sorry, but that shit only belongs in horror movies. the thought of a human being growing inside of me totally grosses me out. totally.

and breast feeding? what kind of sick joke is that? i cannot wrap my head around the concept of my body making food. MAKING FOOD. i would feel like the damn frosty machine at wendy's. (oh, and by the way, all this weekend, frosty's are free at wendy's. they are trying to offset all that negative "finger in the chili" PR. i personally don't give a good god damn why they are doing it, i just want my free frosty, dammit. that is my PSA for the day.)

and as far as parenting goes, well, i just know that i am not cut out for that bit of business. i can barely take care of my dog most days. when he pisses me off, i can just lock him out in the backyard and chain him to a tree. apparently, it's illegal to do that with kids.

and i have no patience for crying babies. i would so be the mom on the news that you see getting arrested for putting vodka in her baby's bottle. "well, i thought it would help him sleep. it works for me." and then there would be some hideous mugshot of me on the 11 0'clock news. my hair all matted, lipstick smeared and a big ol' cold core on my bottom lip. i'm too vain for that.

and rumor has it that kids cost money. sorry, i like shoes and purses way too much. self sacrifice has never been my strong suit. i would make the kid wear ratty, torn clothes because "mommy needs a new pair of kate spade shoes."

so, i've got this uterus laying around if anyone wants to buy it. brand new, never been used. i only accept Paypal payments, though.

Tuesday, May 10, 2005

Please Keep Your Boobies Covered At All Times

in order to counterbalance my atrocious eating habits, i have to go to the gym. it's the only thing that keeps me from becoming the 400 pound woman of los angeles. i don't like it, but i do it. no, wait, that's an understatement. actually, i fucking hate it. i hate every goddamned minute of it. it's torture. why can't knitting burn calories? because then i would be totally in shape. but, alas, it doesn't, so i drag my fat ass to the gym a few times a week and suffer all the indignities that go along with that.

the one teeny tiny bright shining light in the whole experience is the people watching. oh lord, the crazy motherfuckers at the gym ALMOST make it worth it. exercise kills brain cells. it must. because these fools are operating at a negative IQ level.

now, what you need to understand about me is that i am NOT a "naked person." when people ask me if i walk around my house naked, i look at them as if they just asked me if i enjoy sticking hot fireplace pokers up my ass. sideways. seriously, i would shower in my bathing suit if i thought i could. and that's just at home. so, you can just imagine the lengths i go to in the locker room. take my top off and put my tshirt on. make sure tshirt is covering my ass at all times. then, and only then, do i take off my jeans and jack rabbit quick hop into my workout pants.

after all that, i go the washroom and wash my hands and face. the showers are right off the washroom area. so, a few weeks ago, i make my way towards the sinks and this woman comes BARRELLING out of the showers and damn near plows me down. she is butt nekkid. all i see coming at me is tits. oh wait, i stand corrected, she was not completely naked. she had a towel on her head. because, yeah, that's what we want to keep covered. our hair.

she is one of those girls that spends 99% of her time in the locker room totally naked. walk out of the shower, yup, she's naked. stand at the mirror blow drying her hair, yup, she's naked. sit on the bench and talk on the cell phone, yup, she's naked. i don't want to see myself naked, let alone half the population of encino. and dear god help me, but when they bend over, i pray for sudden blindness.

then there are the rest of the freaks. i once saw a girl in the washroom and she was putting on a full face of makeup. so, stupidly, i just assumed that she had finished her workout and was getting ready to leave. imagine my surprise when i saw her on the cross trainer 20 minutes later. this nut job put on make up before her workout. still trying to wrap my head around that bit of lunacy. maybe it's just me, but if i talk fast, i break a sweat. so when i am actually working out, i am sweating like a whore in a church. that's not the time i want to be worrying if my second coat of mascara is clumping.

then there is the girl that is on her cell phone the ENTIRE time she is on the stairmaster. if one of my friends called me and said "oh, i'm at the gym and just thought i would call you while working my calves." i would truly have to rethink the friendship. just a warning to all my friends that read this. that's a deal breaker.

i am an equal opportunity hater, so let's talk about the men. now, i don't know if the naked stuff applies in the locker room (and i don't want to know. i got to tell you, naked men are not pretty. they just aren't. so, you can cancel that playgirl subscription you were thinking of getting me for my birthday.) but men are just as idiotic as the women.

fellas, if you are sweating off approximately 38 gallons of fluid and it is dripping all over the treadmill you are on, please WIPE THE FUCKING MACHINE DOWN WHEN YOU ARE DONE. every time i unknowingly hop on a machine and grasp those soaking wet handle bars, well, i die a little inside.

and spandex bike shorts, not allowed. nope, under no circumstances is the sight of your package encased in black and grey striped lycra acceptable. ever. no, never. i repeat, never.

and oh, let's not forget the bodybuilders. gents, i know we all look to celebrities for fashion tips, but i got to tell you, hulk hogan should not be considered your fasion role model. headbands look good on no one. just consider that a little tip from me to you. because i care.

so, for the low, low price of $40 a month, i get to watch these people that make my family look sane. i would work out at home and save the money, but then i would be the craziest one in the room and that's not good for my self esteem issues. besides, the dog barks like crazy if i try to exercise in the living room. i think the sight of my jiggly thighs flying all over the place scares him.

Sunday, May 08, 2005

So, My Granny Was Talking to Me About Sex.....

all my life, my family has done the "traditional" holiday celebrations. for xmas, father's day, easter, etc. we would cook a big meal, gather at granny's and eat ourselves sick. god bless america. well, these last few years, my granny has basically said, "fuck it. i am sick of cooking." ok, well, she didn't say "fuck it" but the sentiment is the same. so, now we go to the casino instead. granny is a big time gambler, and it makes her happy, so why the hell not?

mom and i enjoy it, also. we have fun and this way neither of us has to deal with our crazy ass brothers. her brother, my uncle, is actually a certified nut job and my dumbass brother is, well, just a dumbass. they don't come on these excursions with us, so it's a win win situation.

my granny LOOOOOOOVES to gamble. at the end of the night, it's always a struggle to get her out of the casino. i think she hides so we can't find her. start hinting that it is time to go and she becomes as scarce as the weapons of mass destruction. yup, granny loves the slots.

she also loves to tell all her favorite urban gambling legends. "this one time, i met this guy, and he only put 75 cents in a slot and he won 48 bajillion dollars." or, "i was talking to this woman earlier, and she told me that one time in vegas, she was down to her last dollar and she put it in a quarter machine and she won a brand new car." actually, some of these are true. last month, one of granny's friends actually DID win a car at a casino. oh, we'll be hearing THAT story for the next 5 years, trust me.

so, yesterday, in honor of mother's day, we traipse off to the casinos in palm springs. naturally, the talk turns to gambling. granny is telling some story about what happened at last week's bingo game. and mentions this man that her friend thinks has a crush on my granny. now, that's disturbing enough. but then, my granny tells me why she can't stand this man. oh god, i need a minute. this is so painful........... ok, she tells me that when the bingo numbers are called, sometimes people make funny comments about the numbers. like if the bingo caller, yells "B6" people make jokes about vitamin B6. bingo humor, who knew?

when the caller announces "O69", this fella makes an "ooh la la" comment. and that's why granny doesn't like him. because he makes these nasty jokes. and she was going on and on about this. (granny's a talker) MY GRANNY WAS TALKING TO ME ABOUT 69!!! can you imagine how disturbing that is? CAN YOU??? in case you are not understanding or are not properly horrified, my 75 year old GRANNY was talking about 69!! AND SHE KNEW WHAT IT WAS! i think i have post traumatic stress disorder now.

now you know why i drink so much.

Friday, May 06, 2005

Drunk With The Power Of It All

when i become president of the world, the following offenses will be punishable by death. a long, slow painful death involving electricity, dull knives and a madonna movie marathon.

*neglect to use turn signals - what, are some cars really not equipped with this basic function? must be an optional feature. who knew?

*coming into a movie theater 90 seconds before the show starts, getting pissed off that the seats you want are occupied, and asking me to change seats so you can sit where you want - this has happened more times than i can count, and trust me, it's never pretty. how fucking self centered ARE YOU? i got there early, you didn't. sucks to be you. now, go sit in the front row where you belong and if i am feeling particularly generous, i will toss you an advil for your sore neck.

*being seemingly oblivious to the fact that your child is screaming and tearing up the restaurant while i am trying to enjoy my meal - oh, oh, oh, oh, oh this one makes me especially homicidal. when this happens, i will very loudly and pointedly exclaim, "you know, there are reasons some animals eat their young." are these morons fucking deaf and blind? well, we know they are dumb. so glad they reproduced their defective genes, ensuring stupidity for generations to come.

*cashiers who hand back change incorrectly - yes, there is a correct way to do this. you hand over the coin change FIRST, then the bills. DO NOT hand me the bills with the coins piled precariously on top and DO NOT EVER hand me a wad of bills with my coins folded into the middle. why not just throw my coins all over the floor and save me trouble of dropping them?

*licking your fingers to wet them so that you can ruffle thru some papers and then handing me the papers - just lick my face while you are at it, asshole. it's something that most people only do once around me. i think me vomiting directly onto their shoes is a fairly good deterrent. how can you not know how completely disgusting that is? how?

*showing any kind of "state pride" - yes, you will be executed for thinking that some part of your identity is based on an accident of geography. and if your car sports a bumper sticker that says "florida girls kick ass" or "proud to be hawaiian" well then i reserve the right to ram my car into yours. this disease seems especially prevalent among texans. "woo hoo, i hail from the state with the most executions of the mentally ill and the largest number of racially motivated hate crimes! yee hah, motherfucker!"

*humming in the elevator - this ain't american idol, i ain't paula abdul, but i will channel simon just long enough to tell you that you suck. and if you actually start singing, you are obviously too stupid to live and my bashing your head against the doors would only be considered a mercy killing.

*professional victims and attention whores - you will be shot on sight.

*making a left turn out of a parking lot when there is no traffic light - if i have sit behind you for 7 minutes because you are too lazy to drive around the block, there will be consequences. dire consequences. ever seen "marathon man?" i'm just saying.

*standing so close behind me in line at the grocery store so that i can feel your breath on my neck - crawling up my ass does not make the line move faster. trust me, this is a proven fact. but it will guarantee that i will "accidentally" hit you with the 25 pound bag of dog food "that i just lost control of." oops. personal space, people. respect it.

*lecturing me on the health hazards of smoking - really? it's BAD for me? damn! and all this time i thought i was sucking down a vitamin B supplement! my standard reply to this is, "yeah, well it keeps me off the heroin." people never know if i am joking or not. their executions will be EXTRA painful if they lecture me while tossing a big mac down their gullet.

*walking .000001 MPH down the center aisle of a store - don't make me push you to floor and gleefully hop over you. it hurts my back.

i swear i don't have anger management issues. i swear.

Thursday, May 05, 2005

My Secret Shame

in person, i come across as oh-so hip and ironic. my converstaions are peppered with references to nerve.com and Bust magazine. i'm edgy and i know it. i look down my nose on "mainstream" movies (you should hear my rant on action movies, it's really fucking brilliant. maybe tomorrow.), pop music and bestselling books.

if someone asks me if i watch "The O.C." i throw them a look that could sterilize a catholic bride and answer ever so disdainfully, "sorry, but i don't watch CRAP." then i roll my eyes so hard i am in danger of detaching a retina.

oh, but if only my Tivo could talk. i would be so busted.

i didn't want to watch it and i certainly didn't want to like it. the first season of "The O.C." i stayed strong and i resisted it's overly dramatic, lushly landscaped temptations. but the lure of teen angst drama was too strong. this season,i "accidentally" watched the season premiere. and i haven't missed an episode since. god help me, it's like a drug. marissa's ill fated foray into sapphic love, i was there. summer dumping zach at airport when she realized she still loved cohen, i was there. even the god awful 'risky business' auction episode, yes, i am ashamed to admit, i was there.

but really, how long was i expected to abstain? i am a sucker for all things teen angst. my fave movies are made by john hughes and if megan mccafferty doesn't release that third jessica darling (the teen heroine and NOT the porn star, FYI) novel REALLY.FUCKING.SOON. i am just going to die. do you hear me? i will die!

i have watched "my so called life" on DVD so many times i can quote dialogue and episode names. but god, don't you just love it in "self esteem" when jordan realizes that he DOES love angela, and then he goes to her locker, and then they are walking down the hall together, and then he holds her hand?!?!?!? my heart skips a beat every time. every single time.

and don't even get me started on 'degrassi.' and by the way, when did emma become such a whore? our little peace loving, petition circulating, protesting little hippie girl. now she's like queen slut. she's going to make manny look like a nun. sheesh.

so, now you know. i'm a fraud. please don't hate me. and whatever you do, don't take away my judy blume books. because i still love them.

Wednesday, May 04, 2005

I'm Drunk and Sad and Angry, So Just Fucking Deal With It

this is like drunk dialing, but i don't have to wake anyone up and piss off all their roommates. tomorrow we will count all the typos and try not to cringe too much.

CrushBoy is a musician and he had a show tonight. i went. they were good as always, but i left there sadder than i have been in a long time. i try not to be too obvious around him, but i am probably as transparent as the crystal cathedral.

when he looks at me, it'a look i know all too well. it's the "there's my fat, funny friend that you couldn't pay me to fuck." look. well, excuse the hell out of me. i am sorry, but you know what? we are all fucking flawed, buddy. it just sucks ass that my flaws are the first thing you see about me. i am not pretty, i'm fat and i have too many chins. and i hate that people can't see past that.

i look at the girls that they find attractive, and yeah they're pretty and all. but it doesn't seem to matter that they are stupid, and vapid, and humorless. oh, but they have a smokin' hot ass, so guys have to take a number to get to them.

it doesn't matter that i'm funny and smart and generous and intuitive. no, what fucking matters in this town is the size of your ass. and i'm so fucking sick of it that i could scream.

and don't try to tell me this ain't true, because it is. some things in life are certain. death. taxes and fat chicks are invisible. it's a fact. i have been thinner and have seen this from the other side of the buffet table.

tomorroe i am going to go to the school for the blind and start picking up guys. at least they won't know i look like an Ewok. so, if their seeing eye dog is prettier than me, they'll never know.

Monday, May 02, 2005

We Are Sorry, But You Are Not Atkins Approved

i think tourist season has come early to los angeles this year. i have seen more fat people this last week than i have all year. if your BMI is over 12, you are not allowed to live within the city limits. the only reason they let my fat ass stay is that i was born here. it's a loophole. but if i start spilling out of my size 14 jeans, i get a letter of Probationary Status from the mayor.

fat people are allowed to VISIT, but don't even think about trying to STAY here, porky. at the airport they get their one week temporary visa and a copy of "the south beach diet." and just to shame them, their luggage is taken away and they are given clothes 3 sizes too small. that must be it, because i cannot imagine anyone VOLUNTARILY wearing some of the outfits i have seen recently.

take for example, the girl i saw yesterday. all of five feet tall and she was as wide as she was tall. low rise pink sweat pants (do i even have to mention the extreme cameltoe?) and a midriff top. she was devouring an ice cream cone. i will excuse you for a moment if you need to go puke...........are you back now? good.

hey, where did she even GET that ice cream cone? those aren't allowed here! there is a reason there is not a Sonic within 90 miles of here. don't think for a minute that our fine city would give a zoning permit to a place that sells tater tots. i have to have my fried carbs smuggled in from san bernadino. sshhhh! don't tell.

then there was the size 20 chick. skin tight white capris and a pink tube top. I.AM.NOT.MAKING.THIS.UP. even scarier is the fact that she had no panty lines. can't even let my mind go there. that's how people end up under the bed in the fetal position, rocking back and forth, and trying to blind themselves with a squeeze bottle of drano.

and why are white capris and pink tube tops even made in a size 20? it's like when i look at the frederick's of hollywood catalog and see "also available in 3X!" seriously, a size 3X g-string? isn't that just basically a rope? someone hand me the drano, please.

if i didn't love los angeles so much, i would totally move to the midwest. there i am considered anorexic. it could have something to do with the fact that every fucking restaurant is a fucking buffet. seriously, even the KFC. that one freaked me out a little.

i might really hate the summer, but at least it's the only time of the year i am not the fattest person in los angeles. now excuse me, but there is fudge covered graham cracker in the kitchen and it's calling my name.