Hiiiii Brother...

Jahooni was talking about TV shows the other day. Once again, it brought back my longing for the best show ever...Arrested Development. Lucky for me, I have a brother who loves me enough to get me the entire series for Christmas, so I can lay in bed hungover on Saturday mornings laughing my ass off. I watched the below episode twice in one sitting. Oh yes.

I've been able to tell a lot about a person by which panel is their favorite. Therefore, today is Learn About My Deadbeat Readers Day! So tell me...which panel moves YOU to tears of laughter? (click on image to enlargen...heh heh heh...I said 'enlargen')

No. 3 causes a giggle EVERY time I look at it.

Everyone else is off today for MLK Day. I guess my company's racist.

Someone Needs A Little Drop of Poison

Bad news folks. Yet another budding young actress has earned my scorn.

This may be old news to some, but it’s taken me several days to be able to write these words without throwing up a little in my mouth:

Scarlett Johansson is going to release an album. Of her singing. Tom Waits covers.

Who the FUCK does she think she is?

I’m obviously upset by this news. Like people who were angered by that New York artist who stuck a crucifix in a glass of piss…I kind of feel that this album will be the aural version of that. Bitch.

I just don’t understand what she’s doing. For that matter, I don’t really understand remakes. There are maybe a handful of acceptable exceptions in this world…but it should be generally agreed upon that no one can do Tom Waits better than Tom Waits. 80% of his musical genius is his voice…which doesn’t sound an iota like a 23 year old girl’s. Thank Yahweh.

I’d like to be able to move on into the smattering of good news that made this week bearable…but I just can’t. The above story trickles down into all the good things and makes them smell rotten. Like the vegetable drawer in my fridge that I’m afraid to open. I’m gonna make Kansas do it.

I got called a curmudgeon at work yesterday. Twas awesome.

Cable is Pointless

So..I've lain in bed for a while and stared at the ceiling. Nothing. I've watched the end of three different movies on various cable channels. Talladega Nights is always funny, the other two sucked. Gave up on TV. I've picked up and put down two different books. I've played with the cat...she's being a jerk. I've tried to blog...not feeling much in the way of cleverness. I've cleaned the bathroom, started the dishwasher and put away the clean laundry that's been sitting on my bedroom floor for two weeks. Not even a yawn. And now I'm slouched on my orange couch listening to an episode of Family Guy and starring at this stupid computer. It's making that choking noise again. I long for sleep...but the eyes won't close.

Why?

Because I have an early ass meeting in the morning.

Whenever I have to get up earlier than I normally do, I can't sleep the night before. This has always been the case for me. As a kid, the night before the first day of school was torture. Crack of dawn appointments have me staring at the mean red digital numbers at least once an hour. And when it comes to a good night's sleep...an early AM flight is the kiss of death. Does this happen to anyone else? Even if it does, I don't see how it would help me get to sleep. You should realize that. Selfish.

I need a bedtime story. Feel free to take it upon yourselves, dear readers, and send me one. A good one. No fairytales. Those just set unrealistic expectations.

Ugh. Don't mind me. I'm just grumpy. I'm sleepy and bored and uninspired. A trifecta of dissatisfaction. And I've already seen this Family Guy episode.

He's Got A Head Like A Fucking Orange

I'm not sure when I first saw The Office. I think I caught it on BBC America way back when (which I watch constantly, since I suffer from a severe case of Anglophilia) and became immediately obsessed. One day, way back in 2005, the Waif showed me that Ricky Gervais and Stephen Merchant would be doing a free podcast with this dude named Karl Pilkington. And so I listened. And I loved it.

They released a book of convos from the podcast and whatnot and the Waif got it for me at Christmas. And one morning...I think Thursday or Friday of last week, I was reading an excerpt about how Plato's knowledge killed him because he was on holiday walking on a beach and a bird dropped an egg on his head. If he hadn't been so smart, he would've had to work instead of taking holidays so he would've lived. Yes. That's what I was reading. And I was laughing so hard I thought I was going to die. Just a little.

So, who is Karl Pilkington? He's just a guy. A guy that Ricky and Stephen met in a radio studio years ago and realized is the funniest human on Earth. And a complete moron. Probably the deepest moron you'll ever encounter, but a moron, nonetheless.

Anyway. You have to hear him before you read him...or you won't be able to mentally attach his voice to the transcript. So here. Enjoy:

http://www.mediafire.com/?0w1yubmqy4l

Don't say I never gave you anything.

Skinny Jeans Are Not Even A Privilege

So yes. I own a pair...but in my defense, they didn't start out as skinny jeans. I just got fatter. And now they're tight. Shut up. But my beef is with these women actually buying spandex leggings in the form of denim. This trend has gone on for well over a year now and it just needs to halt. I can't look at it anymore. It offends my very nature. And I'm not that easy to offend (see the post on Crocs...and nau).

There are two things I'd like to comment on today. Both of which just fell in my lap, so to speak:



1. How to Stop Terrorism? Begin in School

Maryland High School Offers Homeland Security Courses

Sixty-one Joppatowne 10th-graders enrolled this year to spend three years learning about protecting the country against terrorism.

*Bullshit. How about we focus on bringing art back into schools. Can we do that? Please? Oh sorry, does that point of view make me a terrorist? Fuck you!

2. Unknowing Twins Marry Each Other

LONDON, England (CNN) -- British twins who had been separated at birth learned they were related only after they had become husband and wife, a senior British lawmaker said. The marriage has been annulled.

*Ew. Double ew. That being said...you have to wonder at the couple. What went on there that allowed them to get all the way to marriage...and SEX...before they realized something just wasn't right. Were there obvious signs? Did they finish each other's sentences? Share a secret language? LOOK ALIKE? Maybe it was the sex that was the clue. Maybe they both got grossed out during the actual act and went to seek therapy and the shrink was all "Hmmmmm. Maybe you're related".

The end.

Kansas is currently cheating on me with a video game. It's called something silly like Mass Effect. I'd assume it was about global warming, except I know it's about space. I know this because I happened into the living room just as some weird alien woman with large breasts asks MY boyfriend if he had feelings for her. Well, the goatee'd fighter dude that is being controlled by the thumbs of my boyfriend. After I laughed for, like, minutes about the cheesiness of it all...I started realizing that I should not be amused. I should be indignant. And that I should fight that alien bitch.

But then I reminded myself that it's only a video game and went to eat some pretzels.

All in good fun. Only if you think of video games as "fun". Which I don't. But of course this sparked a convo concerning those sad sad types of folks out there who don't actually know that it's just a video game. You know the ones I'm talking about. You know. I'm thankful I'm not dating one of those. Well, "those" don't date much, do they. Poor "those".

My, this is getting wordy. Next time, I'll talk about the book that I had me laughing so hard on the bus, people thought I was crying. Which I was.

A Day In Pants Is A Day Wasted.

You know, reading all you people's blogs at night is exhausting. I hope you appreciate me.


I took a picture of my haircut this morning as I was getting ready for work. I don't know how well you can see its rock 'n rollness from that vantage point...but just know that there are 8 MILLION layers. And I never exaggerate. Never. Ignore that sweater, though...I don't know why I'm wearing it. It makes me look like some sort of giant green shrub. Fugly.

One set of parents are in Mexico right now. I currently hate them. But only superficially...because I could never hate them. It's just the pea green talking. Kansas and I leave for Romania, Hungary and whatnot in a little less than a month. I suppose I should start thinking about places to stay. I'd be such a shitty travel agent. Do those still exist? Wait. I don't care.

I was thinking about something today...and I'm wondering if you would find it as profound as I did. Probably not...but play along. Last year, at this time my bedtime ritual went as follows:
1. Brush teeth with standard...medium bristled...bright red toothbrush with Crest extra-whitening toothpaste.
2. Take out contacts...put them in their designated case. It's pink.
3. Think about washing face, but don't.

This year...at this time...my bedtime ritual is as follows:
1. Brush my teeth with my Oral B electric powertool toothbrush exactly two minutes with Crest extra-whitening toothpaste.
2. Take out contacts, put them in their designated case. It's white.
3. Floss my gums cruelly and check for ANY sign of bleedage.
4. Make faces in the mirror with cheeks filled with fluoride rinse that you have to keep in for a whole fucking minute. It's purple.
5. Utilize eye makeup remover. It's also purple.
6. Wait for water to get hot...takes about a year.
7. Wash face with ridiculously expensive cleanser that I got from the woman who gave me a facial. She studied skin in Europe...where skin was invented.
8. Follow up with a face serum. I don't know either.
9. Smooth on extremely expensive "Day/Night" cream. It's white.
10. Crawl into bed where Kansas has started and finished watching a feature length film.

You see the difference? Two appointments changed my life forever. Two little appointments to let me know I'm not as young and healthy as I used to be. Two appointments that forced me to look at my lifestyle and find it inadequate. It's been a humbling year.

Men will probably read this and go "what the fuck? no one needs to do all that". And then women will read this and go "what...you think we wake up looking this good? boy you better recognize." And then the women will bitch slap the men and tell them to go fix them a turkey pot pie. Yes, that's how it will go.

Time for a glass of wine. Been suffering a bit of the ol' insomnia lately. I blame nargles.

(oh god, oh god, oh god...that was a severly nerdy Harry Potter reference. you're all going to leave me now, aren't you)