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.