I think I can see New Jersey from up here

I’m all for adventure. Well, controlled adventure. I suppose I’ve never been much for thrill seeking and living on the edge. Hmm, ok not true... I went on the Cyclone in Coney Island, but I try to block that memory out. But, we are on vacation, so I decided to throw caution to the wind and be all that I could be. Actually I just really didn’t want Jay to call me a pussy all week. Last year when it was just me and Meredith, the craziest thing we did was to not flip over on the beach chair, but this year Jay is stuck with us and doesn’t much appreciate just laying around all day. Apparently the effort that goes into the fine art of tanning doesn’t interest him. On his list of things for us to do: wave running, parasailing, scootering, dirt biking, and swimming in the little pond in Meredith’s dad’s complex. Since we immediately nixed that last one citing the probability of alligators lurking in there, we ended up agreeing to wave running and parasailing. Let it be known that I have previously done neither of these activities, so I think my adventure quota for the next couple of years has been met, if not exceeded...

There was absolutely no way I was getting on the back of Jay’s wave runner, and also probably no way I should have gotten my own, so Meredith and I decided to ride together. She’s been on one before so I let her drive first and I sat behind her and basically put her in a strangle hold. We thought we were the biggest bad asses going like 40 mph as Jay zoomed by doing like 60, standing up, waving, and doing turns. Yup, fully would have died riding with him. Died or been thrown into the ocean, or both. Well now that I’d done that, I was starting to feel like I was invincible. Parasailing, sure why not!? 1200 feet? 2 dips? Bring. It. On. It’s not like I don’t like heights or anything. Jay had $20 on me freaking out up there, but besides the fact that my feet were turning purple from the cold, I was a trooper! There’s still no f’ing way I’m getting in that little pond though...

Stupid People should be Shot on Sight

This one goes out to airport screeners and the Department of Homeland Security. I know we don't profile people blah blah blah, but here's a little story for you.

Once upon a Christmas, Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab boarded a plane in Amsterdam, originating from somewhere in Africa. His father had recently contacted the US Embassy with concerns over his son becoming radicalized. He had a one-way ticket, and no baggage.

Really? Should he also have been wearing a big red neon blinking sign that said I am going to blow this plane up?

Let's get our shit together here. There were a thousand clues that this douche was going to try to light his underwear on fire. Hellooooo??

The Daily Bailey

At this point, I am pretty much used to getting my way. Whoever said “you can’t always get what you want” is a damned fool. It helps to be annoying and adorable... And annoying, but 9 out of 10 times, I get what I want. However, it never occurred to me to heed the warning sung by the awesome band The Pussycat Dolls... To “be careful what you wish for cuz you just might get it.” They are truly visionaries. Yes, I may have openly wished to be free or that SHE would leave and never come back, but maybe deep down I didn’t really want that. I do tend to follow her around, sit on the bathmat and wait for her to come out of the shower, and attempt to look as cute as possible when I see her putting her coat on... Maybe I kinda like having her around... And now she’s GONE, and I am at the resort alone... ALONE! Well, besides the resort workers...

Since I seem to be stuck here by myself for an indefinite amount of time, I really hope these resort maids and cooks are up to the level of elite care that I demand. I apparently have my own room here, which is nice and all, but whose face am I going to jump on when I want to be fed in the morning? Is my food going to be served on the little white paper plates that I like? Am I going to be lovingly groomed with the special cat brush? Are they going to formally address me as Bailey? What about Scooter? McBoo? Mr. Scoo?? CRAP! I want my mom baaaaaaaack!! This is garbage! Where is she!?! Why has she left me?!? If you bring her back, I promise to never wish her gone again. Ok well maybe not never...

The goal is to have as many friends as possible

We’ve finally arrived in Ft. Myers. The trip never seems quite so bad in hindsight once we get here, but jesus that took forever. It definitely would have been faster to fly, but at least I can trust that Meredith nor Jay will attempt to blow up our car. It was nice however to get a good night’s sleep in a big fluffy bed and a real cup of coffee. The bed at Meredith’s dad's is amazing. Much more comfortable than the Comfort Inn. I have dubbed this the new Comfort Inn, and the Comfort Inn is now the Uncomfort Inn. The complete opposite of comfort.

Meanwhile Jay has been trying for days to log into Facebook to access someone’s email address, but had forgotten his password. Finally this morning he had a successful attempt and can see what the rest of the world has been doing for the past 6 months. He proclaims that it’s scary when girls you used to know contact you on Facebook after years. “Why are they contacting me? Do I have a kid out there somewhere? This chick has a picture of her and her baby. Does that baby look like me? I have like 15 friend requests, who are these people? Did I sleep with her?”

I really don’t even know what else to write after that...

I guess I just really wish I had two mouths

To say that no planning goes into the Road Trips I suppose is a bit of a stretch. I researched cool cities to stop or attractions on the route. This year the stops were Hilton Head Island, SC and Brunswick, GA and the Golden Isles. Of course, because of the car debacle and the fact that Jesus wasn’t born until the 25th, Hilton Head was not meant to be. I am fairly confident it will still be there for me to visit another time, so I wasn’t that upset. We did however decide to check out the working lighthouse I found in St. Simons Island, GA. Apparently you can climb to the top of this puppy, which is 104 ft in altitude... Up a narrow and windy staircase. So, we did. Me with my 4 inch heeled boots, claustrophobia and the fact that I fully forgot to bring any deodorant on this road trip. Once at the top, after my harrowing climb, we attempted to take photos of the 3 of us and Jay bobbled my camera and almost dropped it 104 ft to its doom which would have gone over superbly with my father considering the camera is 4 days old and my camera ruining track record. Luckily, he recovered in time to have not been the next thing to take a flight off of the lighthouse.

And he lived on to consume the “grande meal” at Taco Bell. The one people probably order for a family of 4. The best thing about going on vacation with Jay, is that no matter how badly I pig out, he will ALWAYS eat more than me. Therefore I don’t have to feel badly about myself as I stuff my craw with 3 soft tacos. I can look over, see him double fisting his 10 tacos, and almost not want to go into the bathroom and throw up. Almost.

It's better to not know where we're going on the way to where we're going

The truck driver road trips are notorious for having somewhere between loose to no plan whatsoever. We typically just start driving and worry about stops and stayovers en route. However, when you have what amounts to no plan to begin with, it’s difficult to have a contingency plan as well. So when faced with the fact that Meredith’s car had been in the shop for what seemed like as long as I could remember and would not be ready in time for Road Trip 09, we were forced to scramble. 27 hours on a train? A flight that could cost as much as one to the moon? Squeeze into Jay’s Infiniti 2-door? Hitch hike? Walk? We were in full on emergency mode...

The contingency plan is as following:

What: Road Trip 09 v.2.0
Who: Meredith, Jay, Jessica (the truck driver reunion)
Where: NJ ---> FL then back again
When: Friday December 25 (after Jay sees Santa)
How: Automobile (Jay’s mom was nice enough to lend us her car)

We met at the Cheesequake rest stop on the Garden State Parkway, took pictures of each other taking pictures of each other in the car, then drove around in circles trying to figure out where we’re going. Um, South? It’s Christmas day at 2:38 pm, we are still in NJ. Are we there yet?

We drove for hours in the fog and pouring rain and could have gotten off the exit and been in Oz for all I would’ve known since we couldn’t see 100 feet in front of the car. Meredith and I had eaten about 400 cookies, Skittles, and a bag of Cheetos and listened to “Empire State of Mind” and “Already Gone” 400 times. As much as I love Kelly Clarkson, I was really starting to wish that song was already gone. After we introduced Jay to the Jewish Christmas of Chinese food by stumbling upon what was probably the only Chinese restaurant in Virginia, Meredith decided that she was in a food coma and needed the car to be 90 degrees. Everyone fell asleep and I was stuck driving in a sauna listening to ghetto rap music, because I could barely see the lines on the road let alone try to change the radio or turn off the heat. Finally at 3am after Jay pounded some caffeinated sludge, we stopped at the Comfort Inn in South Carolina which is ironic because the sound of someone vacuuming at 4am is not something that adds to my comfort. Seriously are we there yet?

Don't Look a Gift Card in the Mouth

I think people at work nominate me to go to the recording studio to torment me. I sit there listening to voiceover recordings and/or recording them myself when all I really want to do is bust out into song in that booth. But I always manage to muddle through. Today, my coworker and I went over for a session and were told by a colleague as we were heading out of the office that we should bring back gift cards. Apparently the studio had gift cards to Starbucks, Lowes, and Barnes and Noble and we should bring back a ton of them. This sounds great. Who doesn’t love free shit?

We arrive at the studio, have our hour session, shoot the shit with the producer and start to put our coats on. Nobody has mentioned any gift cards. They’re certainly not lying around for the taking. Are we supposed to ask for them? Is that polite? Or acceptable? We start to head for the door, which is about 2 feet from the studio... In what seems like the slowest slow-motion humanly possible. My co-worker is trying to make eye contact with the receptionist in case he wasn’t aware or 100% sure that we were really LEAVING and maybe forgot to offer us some gift cards. I am dying inside, and can’t even look at her, wondering whether she’s going to come out and ask for them and how potentially awkward that would be. We reach for the door handle. So... We’re gonna go. We are actually going now. For real. Leeeeaving... Gonna head on out, for good. Not coming back. Yea, uh, well adios then. Sayonara. Cough, GIFT CARDS, cough cough. Ok bye. We are so not getting gift cards...

The Daily Bailey

Apparently today is my birthday according to my medical records from the vet I was taken to after I was captured (I mean before I was adopted.) I suppose everyone has one of these days and today is as good a day as any to turn 2. Or at least that’s how young the records claim I am. They must have counted my rings like a tree or some other sort of voodoo like that to quantify my exact age. But I don’t feel a day over 1... Even though I have been prematurely grey since birth. I am just a distinguished gentleman like that.

I wasn’t awarded a lot of time to compile an extensive birthday wish list since SHE just started mentioning this birthday thing to me the other day... “it’s someone’s birthday soon!! Who’s birthday is coming? Who’s? Who’s going to be a birthday face?” Well why do you have to be all oblique about it? How the hell am I supposed to know? If it’s mine, why can’t you just say that?! I’m a cat not a freaking super sleuth. So in the interim I’ve decided on world peace, to be set free, or a zhu zhu pet. And then whatever I don’t get, I’ll submit to Santa... Because even though she keeps saying I’m a good boy, I’m gonna need some proof. What??? We don’t celebrate Christmas? Add a Christmas tree to the birthday list.

Unfortunately I didn’t get any of the things I wanted. I bet none of you saw that one coming. Instead I got picked up and hugged, an extra hairball reducing treat, a decently sung (meaning other neighborhood cats didn’t come running) personal rendition of Happy Birthday to Scoo, and a self-propelled mouse on wheels. I suppose it could have been worse. She could have tried to put a hideous birthday hat on me, hired a singing telegram or a scary clown, or purchased me an ugly sweater that I’d never take the tags off. I guess I’ll hold off on being set free for at least another year...

Who Knew?

Currently there is a GIANT cannoli in my office's kitchen that I'm telling everyone was sent to us by the cast of Jersey Shore. Who even knew something this amazing existed? F cookie cakes, this thing is the situation right here.

Another Whopper from BK

It seems every year around this time Burger King rolls out a shock and awe campaign that has more to do with sex than fast food. Who could forget last year's infamous "Flame" meat scented cologne (see previous blog post Come on Baby Light My Fire) complete with vomit inducing scary big headed BK mascot that still to this day haunts my nightmares. I, along with my coworker Andrei who was the lucky recipient of "Flame" as a Christmas gift from me last year, were really hoping for the release of the next hit cologne in the line "Raw" or "Mad Cow," but instead it seems we have a Showercam competition. One in which I actually had to verify that I was above 18 in order to be allowed to log into the site. Guess this isn't exactly for the Happy Meal crowd...


It's like dirty reality Burger King Shower Barbie. I can pick what song she sings and what she wears, then I can watch her "shake her bits to the hits" every day. Because nothing makes me want to cram Burger King down my throat more than thinking about skinny people in bikinis. I can also enter to win a date with her or receive (above shown) Burger King shower kit as a consolation prize. Burger King rubber duckie, where have you been all my life??

Why the hell I would want any of this is still unclear to me, but then again I did rush out to purchase meat scented cologne last year so I am easily in their target market group of complete morons...

Quickies

Tiger Woods' pride of sluts is now up to 6. One of which he met at a PERKINS where she was waitressing. You are Tiger Woods and you can't find anyone better to cheat with than a waitress at Perkins? If you die of embarrassment in the next couple weeks, I wouldn't be surprised.

My dress is like new! I don't know what they put in this Amodex cleaning stuff, but it must be liquid of god. Every time I use this stuff I cry like I've literally witnessed a miracle.

You can now sign up to receive notification of blog updates by email!! Scroll down and type your email into the subscription box on the right hand side. Presto! Instant update.

Start Spillin

I have a not so stellar track record at my company holiday parties. I've been to 5 thus far. At the first one, I lost my camera. At the second one, I received my holiday gift, a $2000 gift card and was so paranoid from the first year, that I barely drank and guarded my purse with my life. The third one, I was so thrilled with the year before's positive outcome, that I got careless, drank my face off, put my purse down and had all of my stuff stolen. Last year, I practically strapped my belongings to me. And this year...

3-4 glasses of wine, one whiskey shot, one tequila shot, a couple jello shots that were laced with 151, and I find something that looks like a stripper pole, climb up there, start dancing and suggesting this awesome idea to other co-workers who followed suit. The amount of alcohol I consumed may not seem impressive, however, the amount of alcohol that was all over my dress... epic. Apparently I forgot that the point was to somehow manage to get the alcohol into my mouth. I woke up this morning to find my dress practically tye-dyed with stains like people threw drinks at me. Right now, I have applied every stain fighting substance I can think of, turned on the shower and ran cold water all over it like it was drunk, and am praying for the best. Please offer your prayers for my dress as well.

Pet Peeve #2

I am definitely far from being OCD about cleanliness. I give the clean my best shot and can forgive a little here and there, however, there's something about getting into someone's car and having to sit in the mess that their child left. I don't know about you, but I could have one baby or 50 (although that is actually impossible given time constraints) and I pray to never be one of those people who'd make someone else sit in raisins, cheerios, or unidentified substances.

Chinese Year of the Tiger

One need not understand one word of this to find it absolutely hilarious.



I bet he once got a fortune cookie that said "The time is right to make new friends... in bed"

Keepin up with the Times

I suppose it's about time that the old blog got a facelift and made acquaintance with all of the new social networking hoopla. At the bottom of each post, new icons appear!! I don't know what a Digg or StumbleUpon is, but apparently those are good. Now you can also post blog entries to Facebook as well as Tweet them on Twitter! You can also link to my Twitter page and request to follow me! Try not to fall over with excitement!

However, it would be really great if you experimented with one or more of the new buttons, since it took me all day to get them on there and I had to work with web code. My brain is bleeding, so I really hope you like it.

Top Ten

Tiger to be cited for reckless driving

Top Ten reasons why this is a great headline:

10) Like the poor guy doesn’t have enough shit to deal with at the moment.

9) There’s a lesson here for all of us. In the future when attempting to elude your crazy wife chasing your car with a golf club, please obey the speed limit and don’t piss off the fire department or Al Gore.

8) He’s getting charged by the police and this is one of the least damning headlines to come out about him all week.

7) This misdemeanor charge probably carries a fine that will clearly be less than his impending alimony

6) Poor Buick. After 9 years at 7 mil a year, they cut him loose and he goes and crashes up a Cadillac. Can’t even get any free publicity.

5) I suppose I could make a golf joke right now... Like, you think he’s a reckless driver?? He’s even worse with a 3 wood...

4) 4 points against his license is a cake walk compared to the countless fame whoring sluts about to crawl out and claim they boned him.

3) Lemme guess who’s pressing charges. It was the tree wasn’t it. F’ing tree. The hydrant went off quietly into the night with a couple grand for its silence.

2) Christmas came early for Phil Mickelson this year.

And the number 1 reason this is a great headline...

1) I bet his wife wants him cited for reckless use of his "golf club" shaft and balls

The Daily Bailey

I am thrilled to report that over the last 2 weeks, I have encountered tons of new and totally awesome stuff! Apparently this thing called Thanksgiving is inspiring, and boy am I thankful!

I have learned of new appliances. Something smelled great emanating from the kitchen area in our palace one morning. Definitely not the usual Lean Cuisine or boiling water aroma. It was something baking, like bread or... Whoa, that cabinet thing opens? And food comes out? Baked food goodness? Hold up a minute... Is that an oven? We have an oven? Didn’t even know we had an oven, since I’ve never seen it used before. And I'm more of a firing up the stove man myself. So many new things! Don’t even get me started about the washy spinny thing I saw at the resort...

I have sniffed everything at this resort place we went for Thanksgiving. Every last thing. I left absolutely nothing unsniffed. There is nowhere in this place that I haven't put my sniffer on... well except for whatever is behind that one pesky door that is always closed, but believe you me, I will get down there somehow, someday. There are so many more places to explore here than at the palace. I've been behind the catticade (cat barricade), I've been accidentally locked in the bathroom as well as the pantry, and I've been caught attempting to climb into above mentioned washy spinny thing that they call the washing machine. It was a valiant effort on my part.

I have tasted corn bread and turkey. The turkey was voluntarily fed to me by HER, so that I apparently didn’t feel left out at the Thanksgiving feast that everyone was feasting on except for me. I never get to feast upon anything. The cornbread... Well... I found that laying out on the counter and decided to knock it over and try to eat through the plastic. Why not? Clearly they forgot that old saying, “if you leave it out, I will try to eat it...” Actually I just made that up, but it's oh so true. So so true...

Stupid People should be Shot on Sight

Now if only the United States Secret Service had adopted my mantra, this whole debacle could have been preempted that fateful night at the East Gate with one shot for the fake Redskin's cheerleader Victoria's Secret model aspiring reality show housewife and one for the idiot she's married to.

The Daily Bailey

I do not understand why SHE thinks she can speak to me in the manner in which she does. Can I tell you that the other day she actually had the nerve to call me FAT?? Is that the way you’re going to talk to your kids human? You better sign me up for therapy. I am most certainly not fat (even though I knocked over that bag of pastries and munchkins you stupidly left on the counter and desperately tried to eat them). But hey while we’re name calling, you are looking a little brawny lately as well. I happen to really enjoy eating food (as it’s clear you do as well) and when it’s put in front of me, I scarf it down. And I beg for it all of the time. But that does not mean I have an unhealthy obsession with it. How dare she! I mean, what does she really expect. I am left in this 4x4 cell she calls an apartment day after day, with no room to run around or chase things, so of course I just sleep all day. Clearly I am not a calorie burning machine. When you throw my aluminum foil ball and I chase it down 2 feet... That is not really considered exercise.

We are also going to need to work on your tact. “Someone’s getting a little pooch” and “fattest belly” are not things to say to someone when encouraging weight loss. Threats such as “we are going to weigh you when we get home” are probably not the way to go either. I know there are fatter kitties out there than me, so if you even think about putting me on some kind of diet... I will eat you in your sleep. Besides, I’m a guy. I’m allowed to have a little kibble belly and still live with a hot girl. Yes, that’s right, I just complimented you... It won’t ever happen again so soak it up now. I guess it’s the least you deserve since after all of your incessant degrading of my fragile kitty psyche combined with the overt emotional abuse, I threw up all over. I now probably have an eating disorder and body image issues... I am like an after school special waiting to happen. Way to go human...

Filled with GLEE

I am having the BEST few months ever for celebrity sightings. So great in fact, that I begin to fill myself with self doubt even though I am fairly positive that the person I've spotted is actually the person that I think he is. Case in point, my GLEEful ride on the E train Saturday in which I entered the train, looked up and was greeted with the amazingness that is Matthew Morrison. I knew this was who I was unabashedly STARING at, however most stars seem shorter in person and he was quite imposing. He also had some funky, but still hot, facial hair goin on, and was talking to a dude wearing a Newark Bears sweatshirt. Ok, maybe it's not him. But, he got off at 8th and 50th which is the heart of the theater district, and after some legwork by my PI agency, Slightly Crazy Nancy Drew, I learned that he was in town to see an off Broadway show starring his GLEE co-star Jane Lynch. Oh yes, it was him. Fully shoulda jumped him when I had the chance...

Poker face? I hardly know her

Some of my team's work has been nominated for a Clio Healthcare Award! It's extremely exciting since it's the first year that the Clio's are opening their awards to pharmaceutical advertising. Whatever will I wear!? The invitation says "creative attire" but apparently there was some widespread confusion as to what that meant so an email was sent around to clarify. Creative attire for women means no knee length skirts, not wearing all black... instead the suggested attire was unibody suits, tutus, and anything Lady Gaga would wear. Say what? Did I read that correctly? So so so many choices... Personally the wreath look is calling out to me...

Rationalizing 102

I ran into a co-worker of mine in the elevator this morning who was holding a holiday Starbucks cup and the reality dawned on me... it's almost that time again. Time to famously compile my list of "completely pointless overpriced things" that I want (see last year's entry http://rtweb.blogspot.com/2008/12/rationalizing-101.html). Notice I said want, not need. Last year's purchase has truly been a success and I cannot stress enough how empowering it was to walk into a store, point at something I have no business owning, and walk out with it. It was like winning the ridiculousness lottery. This year I am starting early, looking karma right in the face and compiling my obnoxious list pre-receipt of my gift card... which means I should probably tell you that I'm going to donate it all to charity... a charity called The Louboutin for Jessica's Feet Club...

The Daily Bailey

I have to tell you, I’ve been left home alone a lot lately. What is that about?! Have I done something wrong? I may be starting to get a complex. I mean LOOK at this face. I am adorable. And furry. Who wouldn’t want to be around me? I believe the story was something about “working late,” “watching the game,” “a wedding,” or some other bullshit in which SHE clearly forgot that I OWN her. I don’t really listen anymore. It’s only when I see my feeder come out that I know I’ll be flying solo. Usually she seems really sad to leave me, closing the door in slow motion while staring at me and telling me in a squeaky baby voice how much she loves me. This time however, she couldn’t wait to get away from me. I’m guessing because I made her have a nervous breakdown (and possibly cry) when I kept her up the whole night before. Maybe she won’t come back...

But she did. And when she does, she likes to overcompensate for completely ditching me, by picking me up and trying to assert 2 days of missed care into 2 minutes. Maybe I am a bit persnickety, but I do not want to go “uppy”. I do not like to be handled. You can pet me and scratch my head (until I try to claw you), sometimes I even allow a bit of brushing with that special cat brush, but all of this must occur while I have all 4 paws firmly planted on the floor or bed. SHE thinks I like to be picked up because one time I didn’t squirm while she was in front of the mirror and I was mesmerized by my handsome reflection. However usually I am just uncomfortable. Aren’t there lessons she can take? What do you think you’re carrying a grocery sack or a watermelon? How difficult can it be to correctly pick up a cat? Until you learn, put me the hell down. Oh and stop incessantly trying to stick that miniature Yankee hat on me. I do not wear accessories and I do not want hat head. Besides, haven’t you ever considered that maybe I’m a Mets fan?? I don’t have to like everything you like, I’m my own person you know... and oh so lonely...

Trash spam

I’ve taken some time over the past few days to unsubscribe from every piece of email spam I have somehow gotten myself blessed with recently. I highly recommend this exercise to everyone. I feel so free! No longer must I delete 500 annoying emails a day while accidentally overlooking the 1 or 2 that may be of interest to me. Just because I bought something off a registry once certainly does not mean I have any interest in receiving an email a day from Williams-Sonoma or Crate and Barrel. Nor do I have any use for information about Viking river cruises or Gevalia coffee. And I definitely have no idea how I ended up on a golf digest, christian singles, or republican committee (with emails addressed to my dad or brother... Dear Richard, or Dear Andrew) mailing list. It’s because of this and my erratic mass deleting that I missed an alert for an exclusive Taylor Swift concert pre-sale and now the shows are sold out. I blame this on the GOP...

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Top Ten

Wal-Mart now selling caskets, urns online

Top Ten reasons why this is a great headline:

10) Really? Really. When will the madness end?

9) I almost want to put it in a shopping cart just so I can see if there is a “gift” option. I’ve got a couple people I’d like to purchase this for... (kidding. No, seriously, I am)

8) Costco apparently sells them as well. I assume though not in bulk.

7) They allow layaway. So if you can’t afford to die just quite yet, this is a win-win.

6) Does this get shipped to your house? I wonder if my old doorman would have signed for this...

5) Once you’ve lived your life to the fullest, there’s nothing like spending eternity in a discount casket.

4) If you’re going to buy a casket from Wal-Mart, you should be shot. Oh, right... That makes sense now.

3) They’re gonna start selling those puppies on Canal Street next week.

2) $999.90. Or 10 small payments of $99.90. If you order within the next 20 minutes we’ll throw in a year’s worth of formaldehyde absolutely free! No returns or exchanges. Do not use with dirt or dead people.

And the number 1 reason this is a great headline:

1) There’s a link that says, “be the first to review this product.” Uhh, good luck with that since your end users are DEAD. It’s very comfortable! Fits perfectly! Wears well! I got tons of compliments! My mom loved it!

The Daily Bailey

I am thinking of dressing up for Halloween. I’m a festive kind of cat. I like to participate in holidays that have no purpose. Although I cannot eat chocolate, because I would die, nor can I go outside to trick or treat... And not to mention that this holiday is completely biased toward black cats, I have still done a little research as to what I can be for Halloween. Cutesy just isn’t my thing. I saw the frilly costumes, the witches, the devils. But those are not nearly enough. I need to be taken seriously. I am unfairly persecuted by HER and the rest of the zionists. She takes my toys and my food, she invades my land. Besides, even though I have no balls... I want what every guy wants. 72 VIRGINS! That is why I have chosen this costume. I am so going to Jihad this apartment.


Meowlah akbar!

3rd times a charm

It is my friend Lauren’s 30th birthday today, however it seems that I got her present by mistake. Cameron Mathison (see links below) just walked out of my building (on a day when I at least could have maybe tried to look a little more attractive). As I usually do, I froze up and didn’t move, but this time I happened to be holding the door when I realized it was him. He looked a bit uncomfortable to come out, since he wanted to let me in, however I couldn’t move my feet. So as he came out, I dug deep down, remembered how ridiculously embarrassing it was to have to tell everyone that I couldn’t say anything to him on both of our first two encounters, and actually found the strength to produce words. I said...

“No problem, I watch you everyday”

Oh god. Why didn’t I just say “I carried a watermelon”? I watch you everyday? Like on the television. Like on All My Children? Like NOT thru binoculars??? Could I have sounded any more like a crazy stalker lunatic? I suppose I could have if I’d gone with any of the lines from my first blog post. I am SO not smooth. This could have gone differently. We could have run away together, if I had bothered to do my hair...

But whatever, I TOUCHED HIM! I am never washing my elbow again...

http://rtweb.blogspot.com/2008/07/i-lost-my-balls.html

http://rtweb.blogspot.com/2008/07/weekdays-on-abc-weeknights-on-soapnut.html

Slightly Crazy Nancy Drew

Or savvy internet user, whichever you prefer. I happen to just be a very astute, detail-oriented, inquisitive kind of person. That is why my friends and I are starting our own PI agency... Slightly Crazy Nancy Drew. As lead investigator I have already solved the Case of the 20 year old, the Case of the Stomach Ache and the Case of the Facebook Divorce. My co-detectives are also responsible for cracking the Case of the Former Girlfriend, the Case of the Who Peed My Bed, and the Case of the Break-up then Make-up. Trust me, with a little passive surveillance, strategic thinking, and the right contacts and questions... There’s really nothing you can hide from us. You may think it’s crazy and/or stalkerish. We think it’s just smart. Besides, if you don’t want everyone to know everything about you, what you do and where you are... Don’t post it on the internets. Because we will find it.

Worst Site in the World

Ticketmaster.com

There seriously has to be a better way to buy tickets to a concert. Oh right, there isn't because they have a monopoly. Nothing like having a firm stranglehold on being completely inept and un-user focused. Congratulations ticketmaster.com. First of all, you can’t buy more than one night of the same show at the same time. Therefore you have to pay two convenience charges, which is not at all convenient. Why can’t you add it all to one total shopping cart? Second, I had to wait 20 minutes while it “searched” for my tickets. Staring at it, and waiting, and waiting... Fully knowing that everyone else is buying my tickets while I stare helplessly at my screen. Halfway through my eternal wait, I realized that this format was better served by choosing “best available” seats versus a very narrow selection. Proven by the fact that after 20 minutes of praying, drumming my fingers on the desk, pretending (badly) to sit patiently, cursing, many many angry profane thoughts, a near breakdown, and running the site in 2 browsers... There were no tickets that matched my original query. Shocking. I needed to wait 20 minutes for that? All is well and good though, I got my tickets, but it was a truly terrible and stressful experience. And that is why ticketmaster.com has earned itself the honor of the WORST site in the world.

A little advertising humor

From: Jessica
To: Allison

Hey I think it's missing one...

7. COPY WRITING

"Steamy. Passionate. Earth-shattering."

From: Allison
To: Jessica

8. CRITICISM

"It's all a bunch of hot air. And the tone, could he be more self-serving?! I've known great lovers. He's no great lover."

From: Jessica
To: Allison

9. FACTCHECK.ORG

"He is in fact NOT a great lover."

From: Allison
To: Jessica

10. DEFAMATION

"He has a tiny dick and not the slightest idea what he's doing."

Driving Miss Jessy

My account director ordered me a car service home the other night. I easily could have taken a cab, like I always do when I work late, but she had already called the car so who was I to complain. Up pulls my 7 seater black Escalade ride home. I was disappointed there wasn't a fully stocked bar inside.

Me: "This is a fancy ass car I got myself here... pimpin!"
Sleazy driver: "Yesssssss, let's go somewhere else then..."

Uhhh what? No thanks. Now I'm uncomfortable and there's no cab TV and Eyewitness News briefs to pretend I'm watching to fill the awkward silence. I really couldn't have imagined a situation in which I'd miss taxi TV before this very moment. Sleazy driver is creepily staring at me in the rearview mirror, then turns on the XM radio to the dance trance station and blasts it. It's 10 pm. I just worked 13 hours. Really, this is happening to me?

Sleazy driver: "I have Bose stereo! I get girls Friday nights, they like this music."
Me: "Oh, that's good."

Awkward. Why the F do I have to live so freakin far uptown? What's the price tag my company had to pick up for this little un-joyride? $35. ::cough:: Is that in Euros?

Pet Peeve #1

Note to the people trying to squeeze themselves under the bus stop awning. The entire world cannot fit under here, it's really not that spacious. Sometimes that's you under it and sometimes that's you stuck out in the rain. Thus is life, luck of the draw. Deal with it and get the fuck out of my personal space.

Stupid People should be Shot on Sight

Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy

Today I nominate the entire Heene family. If you don't know who I mean, you must have been hiding under a rock for the last 24 hours. The crazy family who had a giant Jiffy Pop space ship in their backyard, which flew around the friendly skies of Colorado while the entire country watched and contemplated the fate of their 6 year old son, stupidly named Falcon, who all the while was chillaxin in the family attic. I know you think it's cold that I'm including the children in this, but I seriously feel in this case that the stupid doesn't fall far from the tree. You just can't make this shit up.

Meanwhile this morning while the Heenes were attempting to explain their way out of the stupidness, we were forced to watch them awkwardly try to wake Falcon up, who was sleeping during a national broadcast and when finally roused, promptly threw up twice on camera and on what looked to be like his brother's leg. And his mom just sat there offering him tupperware to chuck into and his dad just continued talking. Honestly, could this get any more stupid? I hate this family. I lost brain cells watching this garbage. I never want to see these people again. Even though I predict them having a reality show next season.

The Daily Bailey

I’m a pretty straight edge kinda cat. My former life may have been lived on the mean streets, but I wasn’t swayed by the alley cat lifestyle even though I still had my balls back then and fully could have been a LEGEND. When I was finally caught and tested for the FIV, I was clean. Believe me people, my body is a cat-hedral. I do not have illicit sex... Mainly now because I am not allowed to leave this apartment, so my choices are limited to licking myself or trying out that stuffed dog over there. I do not drink... Anything besides water. SHE never puts the good stuff in my bowl. Basically, I never do anything fun or crazy. It really puts the F U in fun. Until the other night when I was taunted and blatantly peer pressured... “Bailey, wanna have some fun...” to engage in behaviors for which I am ashamed yet slightly amused. Fine, laugh at me... It was awesome and I am totally hooked and thinking of ways to solicit my next fix...

Whoa man, whoa. Like w.h.o.a. This catnip stuff is off the chain. The entire apartment is spinning at 1000 mph, my pupils are so dilated they might as well be marbles, and everything looks DELICIOUS. I sat in front of the microwave for what seemed like an eternity, because I thought I remembered food sometimes coming out of there, but nothing happened. Instead I decided to chow down on this yummy cat toy for a bit, until I realized that the ball of aluminum foil hanging out next to my scratching post seemed particularly mouthwatering. Wellll hellloo there scratching post. You certainly are looking mighty fine for rubbing, and eating, and humping. Shit, why is this skank video taping me? I certainly did not consent to this. I am busy here humping this... Wait, what is that fluffy grey thing that is bouncing around and singing “Bailey eat me, you know you wanna...”... Oh YES, it’s my tail! Come here stupid elusive tail... Get in my mouth! Oooh I’ve got you now! Um where’d you go??

I think I am on speed. Whoo I’m spent. I need a catnap... And then definitely more CRACK! Or whatever you call this amazing amazingness. Don’t hide the stash selfish human, I will kill you in your sleep for my next fix...

Pigskins in chocolate?

Bacon and chocolate? Chocolate covered bacon? This is certainly a new concept. Is this breakfast or dessert? I really might need to know what this tastes like.

In other pig(skin) related news... my touch football team finally won a game this weekend! Even though we are currently still in last place, no thanks to my 3 yard completion and complete laying out of some dude on the other team, we happen to at least excel at drinking games.

You know what goes great with beer?... milk chocolate bacon bars.

Top Ten

Here's a little bit of a different take on the classic Top Ten post...

Top Ten things I’ve done while I was drunk:

10) Thought I was home every time the cab stopped at a red light and continually tried to get out

9) Lost all of my belongings and then hysterically cried

8) Unplugged the refrigerator when attempting to plug-in the air mattress pump

7) Somehow bent the key to my building in half and then promptly broke it in the door the next morning (this was this weekend...)

6) Made out with my friend’s cousin

5) Devoured a cupcake, got frosting everywhere, in my hair, on my watch, and left a trail of crumbs all over my friend’s apartment. The next morning, when seeing the mess I asked her “WHO eats a cupcake like that??” and she responded... “um, YOU.”

4) Decided to get out of a cab by my old apartment for unknown reasons... I live 50 blocks from there now.

3) Caught my heel on a bar stool and took a face first dive onto the floor in front of 4 male coworkers

2) Tried to use my license as a credit card to buy drinks

1) Took a nap on the bathroom floor of the Chinese restaurant at the Borgata

However, I have never stolen an ambulance... Yet.

The Daily Bailey

I am quite advanced for my feline age. Don’t I look dignified and stately!? I may only be a year and a half old, but think about it, I’ve been through a lot in my short life. I’ve lived on the streets, struggled to eat, been captured, then captured again... Oops I meant adopted. Due to my rough upbringing I've got highly advanced street smarts and I definitely know when I’m being played. Last night something was up. I could smell something fishy in the air, which unfortunately was not my treats, and I sensed that revenge was going to be a dish best served cold... And hopefully alongside my food. And as I suspected, I was right... About everything but the food. Just as I was falling into blissful sleep on that beautiful comforter that I am slowly shredding, SHE started petting me and shaking my paw and carrying on “Bailey... Oh were you sleeping? I guess it sucks to be annoyed while you’re sleeping... Doesn’t this suck? I want to play. You should wake up and play. Isn’t this annoying? What are you tired?...” AH go away!! Are you kidding me wench? I really hate her sometimes...

If we’re being honest, I suppose I may have been slightly more annoying than usual lately and may have actually been somewhat asking for this retribution based on the fact that I jumped on her face while she was sleeping the other morning. Ok fine, in the interest of full disclosure, I jumped on her face AFTER I pestered her so much that she got up to feed me at 5:30am so that I’d leave her alone. Listen, I know I am making myself sound very unsympathetic here, but I like to come up on the bed every morning and climb onto the desk where I can proceed to knock things over and swat at everything. This is just what I do, it’s a fact of life. I do this every morning... Because I can. This particular morning she had decided to try to block my access to the bed by positioning herself by the edge. She thinks she’s crafty like that... So what was I to do? Let her win? In war sometimes there is collateral damage, and if that happens to be your face, then so be it. If you don’t want me to jump on your face... Then move your face. That’s not street smarts, that’s just simple logic...

Stupid People should be Shot on Sight

Today's awesome Queen of the stupid ship is the woman killed by her pet black bear while cleaning its cage. I am not at all the least bit surprised that yet another genius has been brutally killed by their pet wild animal. Anytime you hear the phrase "pet bear" or "pet lion", you can almost be guaranteed that the outcome is not going to be pretty. My general rule is that if the animal is bigger than me, it is not considered a pet. Haven't these people learned their lessons yet? On what level is this a good idea? What exactly is the need to have a 350 pound black bear as a pet anyway? Can you take him for walks? Take him to a bear park? Play fetch? Let your friends pet him? What do you do with him when you go on vacation? Ask someone to bear-sit? Take him to a bear hotel? Seriously people. If you want to have a pet that you can't do anything with, I highly suggest a stuffed animal. They are just as fundamentally useless, however their love will not maul you and eat your insides...

Who Knew?

"The case has been described as perhaps the most serious terrorist plot uncovered in the U.S. since 9/11. However, experts said Zazi, who is being held without bail in New York, had the means to kill scores of people — not hundreds or thousands."

So based on logic, and I like to think of myself as a decently smart and logical person, I'm going to say that the construct of this sentence leads me to believe that a "score" is more, a lot more, than a hundred or a thousand. Although, who uses "score" to describe amounts besides Abraham Lincoln? So, what is a score? A score, according to Wikipedia, is a multiple of 20. Four score, is 80. The terrorist could have killed people in multiples of 20? Aren't hundreds arguably multiples of 20 too? But alas, according to the free online dictionary, "score" also means large numbers of people. Who knew? Large numbers of people that are divisible by 20? Couldn't we have chosen a word that doesn't have multiple numerical meanings? Like, massive amounts of people? or a lot of people? lots and lots of people?

The Daily Bailey

So I just joined this Catbook thing on Facebook. If you’d like to request me as a friend, ask my assistant (HER) how. I don’t really understand how it works or why there had to be a distinction and I couldn’t just be on Facebook. I mean, I have a face too. If it was called Humanbook, then fine. But clearly I am just too smart and too up on my internet technologies (hence this awesome blog I commandeer). I am like the Al Gore of cats. I also happen to be an avid user of iTunes. My iTunes library consists of really exactly what you'd expect. The original Broadway cast recording of “Cats” (best musical EVER, I’m talking EPIC. When it comes back to Broadway, oh and it will mark my meows, I am SO auditioning for the part of Mr. Mistoffelees), some sweet jams from that cat who plays piano on YouTube, Paula Abdul (mainly due to her affiliation with MC Skat Kat, otherwise that bitch is crazy), and a little Cat Stevens. Not many surprises there. However, I also dig a little of that cool kat Michael Jackson (even though I’m not really sure he ever liked pussies). Specifically that tune that goes “I always feel like, somebody’s watching meee...” I hear ya Mikey, I feel the exact same way.

I am watched all of the time. What does SHE think I’m going to do? Create mischief? I do nothing of the sort. Can’t a brotha try to break into the garbage in peace? Why you gotta know where I am at every minute? Gosh you are SO needy. “Bailey, what are you doing? where are you..?” Doesn’t she think that I ever just want to be afforded a couple minutes alone to lick myself, eat bugs, or read a cat-alogue in the litter box? Just because I run to the door every time you come home, does not mean I am stoked to see you. Maybe I am trying to escape and continue my precious alone time. I’m kind of a loner, ya know a nomad, they call me the wanderer. I’m a little mysterious, don’t really like to be tied down... I’m starting to think we might need a little space. I think maybe you should consider moving out... Just be sure to leave the food...

Top Ten

Guns OK in Arizona bars starting Wednesday

Top Ten reasons why this is a great headline:

10) Welcome to the literal wild, wild west.

9) In some NYC bars, based on old cabaret laws, there are signs saying “No dancing allowed” which is totally no fun at all. Who thought based on a new law, we could end up in a bar with a sign saying “No firearms allowed”? Which is apparently totally also no fun.

8) Who needs darts when we can instead have target practice?

7) Someone thought this was a good idea? Gotta love the NRA.

6) This gives a whole new meaning to “taking a couple shots”

5) Good luck being the bartender and having to cut someone off...

4) Because I’d totally feel comfortable going home with a dude I met in a bar who had a Glock strapped to his belt.

3) Alcohol and guns. I see this ending well.

2) Charlton Heston just did a little dance in his grave.

And the number 1 reason this is a great headline...

1) Plaxico will have somewhere to party when he gets out of jail.

Pigskins in blankets: The results

Uhh so yea, we got killed. I think it was something like 55-6. I mean I guess at least we scored at all? To give you a taste of exactly how bad we were, here were the highlights from Saturday:

• I aptly named one of our "plays" the Clusterf*ck.
  
• Our best player was someone's brother who was visiting from DC for the weekend.
  
• We played the black team. Mainly that descriptor was based on their shirt color, but it worked on more than one level. Basically we might as well have been playing a prison team. and they took no prisoners. They had some girls that I wouldn't ever want to encounter in a dark alley.
  
• A guy on our team took a football to the face... TWICE.
• I had a very decent catch and carry!!!
  

It's gonna be a long season...

Pigskins in blankets

A couple of years ago, my office participated in a coed dodgeball league. I joined the team because it sounded like fun and a good bonding experience for myself and my coworkers. What I didn’t realize was that the games were all the way on the Upper East Side (ironic, considering I now live one block from there, and can see the school from my apartment window), and that this may be fun, but it certainly wasn’t for fun. The other teams were damn competitive and some of them even had mouth guards. They definitely were not messing around. After I saw one of my coworkers nearly have her head taken off, I called it quits. Effectively attending one game. Go team!

I’d basically given up on group sports, until a weekend in Fire Island when one of my housemates asked if I wanted to play football. I thought he meant to have a catch, but he apparently meant to literally play a game. Surprisingly I wasn’t that awful, so I recently joined a coed touch football team. Oh yes, you heard me correctly. The first game is this Saturday... I really hope we have matching team mouth guards...

The Daily Bailey

Ever notice how when you spend a lot of time with someone, you start to do similar things? Like when girls hang out a lot and they start to get their periods at the same time. Not that I’d know anything at all about that. Just because I (forcibly) had my balls cut off does not make me a chick. I am a man. THE man. Mr. Man, as SHE’s apparently taken to calling me lately, along with a smattering of other completely inane and degrading names that I will only answer to if the words “want to eat?” come after. We are not married. You do not get to call me by stupid lovey dovey names and completely emasculate me (that’s pretty much been taken care of already). I know you think I’m cute and all, and I am slightly in touch with my feminine side (see above mentioned lack of balls that I clearly do not have a complex about), but I refuse to be talked to like I am an adorable ball of (the softest) fur. It’s through no fault of my own that I’ve been saddled with these sad puppy dog eyes that make you think I’m all deep and junk. I am actually quite shallow and rugged dammit. I’d go hunting and hiking and come back covered in mud with dead things in tow... If I was allowed outside. So I’m putting my paw down. This shit stops now. Stop calling me Bailey Bails. And Boo or Booter, Booter Scoot, Scooter McBoo, Scoo, Mr. Scoo, or Bestest Buddy. My name is Bailey. And if you say it with a little growl in your voice, that is the due I deserve. Oh and next time you’re out, can you get me one of those fancy sleep masks (preferably a frilly one that says “frisky”), because the light is really bothering my sensitive eyes. You can get yourself one too, since you clearly do everything I do...

A trivial pursuit

Recently I’ve started attending trivia nights with some of my friends. As expected, I am truly terrible at trivia (although somehow really awesome at the Trivial Pursuit iPhone game because it's multiple choice). I was useless at television trivia, only able to pitch in to help name soap opera couples and the Saturday Night Live theme music. I don’t think I’ve ever seen an episode of 227 or even heard of a game show called The Joker’s Wild. I was slightly more helpful at 90’s trivia, able to correctly identify The Barenaked Ladies in a crappy B&W photocopied picture, but unable to recognize a quote from the movie “Reality Bites.” The only random trivia I’d excel at, would be Jessica trivia. But I doubt that would be very exciting for anyone.

Trivia is like the mah jongg or bingo of the almost 30s set. I go to socialize and eat dinner because it’s a fun and different thing to do. At 90s trivia, I ordered the macaroni and cheese. Everyone else got salads or appetizers so I was already feeling slightly like a huge pig, but when the waitress asked me if I wanted the appetizer or dinner portion, I just went for broke. She mentioned that the dinner portion is actually quite good when it’s reheated and she usually has enough to eat for days. So when it came and I realized that I could easily house the entire thing in that one sitting (since I have no problem admitting that I’ve eaten an entire Family Size box of Kraft cheese and macaroni by myself on many occasions), I encountered a conundrum. I began to eat it very slowly, practically one macaroni at a time... All the while wondering how embarrassing it would be to finish something that someone else eats for days. Days? I mean c’mon it wasn’t THAT large. Luckily after I’d made the decision to not care if the waitress thought I was a binger, I found a gnat baked into my mac n’ cheese, and that was the end of that.

What is Jessica’s favorite macaroni and cheese variety?
a) Kraft spirals
b) Kraft regular
c) Velveeta
d) Trader Joe’s frozen
e) Super Mac
f) All of the above

Top Ten

New tool to fight syphilis? Wal-Mart gift cards

Top Ten reasons why this is a great headline:

10) I’ve never been to a Wal-Mart in North Carolina, and I wouldn’t do it even for a $50 gift card.

9) As if just being sure you did not have syphilis wasn’t enough of a reward.

8) Do you have to test positive to receive the card? Because I could really use $10.

7) This would only work in the South. In NY, it’d have to be a helluva lot more alluring of an offering. Like VIP access to the exclusive sample sales. Women would be lining up around the corner to get tested.

6) Get tested for the syph to get $10 toward the new Miley Cyrus Wal-Mart exclusive album. Now we’re talkin...

5) Simply because it came along with the above photo in which pictures of girls with STD’s were posted on a wall for everyone to see. We need to bring that back... And yes it looks suspiciously like my sorority composite, but we were SDT not STD. Get it right.

4) This whole financial incentive thing is really getting out of hand. Next it’ll be Cash for Chlamydia...

3) So the gift cards fight the syphilis. That sounds painful doc... Can’t I just get a cream or something.

2) Whitney Houston is pissed that the syph is trying to steal her comeback spotlight. And I think Kanye is going to say something about it. (sorry, I had to)

And the number 1 reason this is a great headline...

1) I wonder how Wal-Mart feels about being pimped as an incentive for venereal disease testing? Oh that’s right Wal-Mart had no comment because they don’t care. Wal-Mart is a whore. Wal-Mart probably already has the syph.

The Daily Bailey

As I sit here typing to you fine people, I am pondering the meaning of “curiosity killed the cat.” I’ve heard the saying of course, but I really don’t believe it. I think it’s simply a glorified cat scare tactic. I mean I suppose I almost did light myself on fire once, but that’s nothing that a little child wouldn’t do also (I heard her talking about putting child locks on the stove). Why do I get so much crap for it? I like to explore. Deal with it. And there isn’t much to explore in the palace that I live in. I’ve been under the bed. It’s just okay. It’s dark and full of plastic boxes containing even more clothing than is in the closets that I am not allowed to explore. I’ve been on top of the refrigerator, in the refrigerator, and in the shower. But I’d never been behind the television! Every time I climb on top of the tv I get screamed at or sprayed with water. But Saturday morning at 7am, while SHE was sleeping, I managed to successfully get back there and let me tell you... It’s amazing. It’s like my own little fort! Fort Bailey. The Fort of Bailey. I like the way that sounds. There are cool wires back there! And SO much dust! I love it back there! I am going to stay back there forever... Shit, I’ve been found out...

Now I am definitely in trouble. SHE looks mad... And slightly panicked that I am stuck back here. She keeps calling my name in angrier sounding voices, but I really don’t want to leave my fort. So she starts shaking my favorite toy and it’s making that bell sound... And I might be caving... Nooo, I am staying. Then, ohh, uh oh, I hear my treats coming out of the cabinet!! Okay you win wench! Here I come!!! What? No treats and she’s going back to bed?? Damn, she fooled me. I am SO going back into my fort, the hell with you. So back I go, and again I hear my treats... And again I fall for it, vacating my fort and leaving it wide open to enemy attack. I am such a sucker. My fort was attacked! When I try to sneak back in, I see there’s a blockade at the entrance. What the hell is this? What am I supposed to do now? I guess I’ll just kill and try to eat this bug I found by the front door. Hey! Where are you taking my bug?? What do you mean “we don’t eat bugs”??? Ugh, she takes away all of my fun...

Fantastic Federer

When I was younger, we had family friends that were Greek. They were crazy. We went to their house for dinner once and they put what was probably 4 pounds of pasta on my plate and then chided me "what's the matter with you, you don't eat??" Another time in my driveway, I was bet $50 that I couldn't make a backwards basketball shot. Of course, none of my attempts were even remotely close, until he left. Then I made it.

I will now practice this shot for the rest of my life. I love you Roger.

Dude looks like a lady

This whole time I’ve been anxiously awaiting the next great headline... “Mrs. Doubtfire breaks land-speed record in 800-meter final” in response to the ridiculousness that was gender testing on a runner (see previous blog http://rtweb.blogspot.com/2009/08/top-ten_19.html) simply because she was faster and better than all of the other girls (who apparently ran like girls?) However instead I got... “Embattled track star Caster Semenya gets new coach, new look.”

New look? Oh, I get it... The old ‘if it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck, must be a female’ strategy. What genius PR person decided to do damage control by sticking a dress on her? Hey, they think she’s a man... Just throw some makeup and a dress on her... Done. Woman. Oh and you know what, let’s toss on a necklace and 401 bangle bracelets just in case anyone was still a skeptic. I mean based on this strategy and the fact that we all know the magazine industry (although I’m not really familiar with the editorial practices of South Africa’s YOU magazine, but definitely considering landing myself a subscription) and their overt airbrushing... It may only take a wee bit of convincing for me to start believing that Madonna is actually a man too...

Thesaurus: my favorite dinosaur

As a writer, I use the thesaurus often. Most of the time it is quite a helpful tool (instrument used to shape, gadget, device, person who allows himself to be used), however sometimes I find the suggested synonyms to be insanely amusing (entertaining, pleasant, gladdening).

Such as today's entry: Old/Older

Amusing proposed synonyms: decrepit, fossil, grizzled, oldish

A synonym for old is oldish?

The Daily Bailey

I bet you’re all wondering how I craft this literary genius that I post, being that I lack opposable thumbs and all. Yes it’s true, my paws are a bit large and awkward for accurate typing. Instead, I use my nails... Since they’re usually nice and long being that I squirm, rip my paws back from her clutches, and cry every time SHE tries to cut them. Basically I like my nails to be like the checkout girl’s at Pathmark... But without the airbrushing. That’s why I dread when I see her pull out that little clipper and try to lure me with the promise of special treats. Don’t get me wrong, the treats are pretty tasty, but still get your freaking hands off my paws. I guess I shouldn’t really complain though, because... Wait for it... I am no longer a foster kitty. I am adopted! ME-OW! I suppose most humans don’t exactly scream that from the rooftops in celebration... Well except for little orphan Annie. And she got to live with a rich guy, which coincidentally enough, is my goal for myself and my human as well...

I have this chick wrapped around my little white fluffy paw. I can basically do whatever I want because now she’s stuck with me. Not like I didn’t do whatever I wanted to before. She even bought me a “you’re adopted” gift. Which I promptly lost like I do with all of my other toys (see me above pictured with one of said lost toys), after I feigned excitement (ok maybe I was a little excited) because the toy had a bell in it. She thinks I love it because I chase it around the entire apartment, when I’m really trying to lose it so I can sit back and laugh as she gets down on the ground and searches for it under the bed, under the chair, under the furniture, under the oven, in the bathroom... Because I look really sad that I’ve lost my toy. This happens all the time and when she actually finds it, poor sucker is so happy... and then I lose it 5 mins later. Just think... This is what we have to look forward to for the next 18 or so years... Thanks for adopting me Mom!

Isle of Fire

Selected Fire Island memories (the ones that are appropriate for sharing ;-)

The power of the $1.50 candy necklace.
Who knew that a row of sugar worn around one’s neck made them so much more attractive. It was like I was a totally new person that all the D-bags in my house had never seen before. In fact, one of them even told me his sad story about almost getting kicked out of the house like I hadn’t been there for all of the other 4 weekends. Like he’d NEVER seen me before. Amazing.

6-slice
My friend Mara will apparently talk to anyone. While on line for pizza one night, the guy in front of us ordered 6 slices for himself, then sat outside the pizza place with the box open and ate them. Mara thought he was cute, which is fine, but he was also probably 45. The next morning I saw him wandering around in the same outfit he had on the night before. Then a couple hours later, I saw him again at the Sub Shop. Both times he still had the salt and pepper hair that drunken Mara claimed had been blonde. Not quite.

Buck me
The deer in Fire Island have no fear. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if they’d eat you if they could. It is also extremely dark on the island. Basically pitch black at night. So on my walk home from the bar one night, I was having a conversation with my friend Parisa, who was on my right, and turned to my left mid-convo and about 2 feet from me was the most GINORMOUS deer ever with huge antlers. I screamed, grabbed Parisa and bolted. I still have nightmares about it. Honestly it was like a moose.

Table surfing
The guy who runs my house is hilarious. You rarely see him during the daytime hours, but at night he’s everywhere. He’s like a vampire. A crazy, drunken, hilarious vampire. One night he decided to do belly flops onto the beer pong table. He literally would get a running start and throw himself chest first onto the table. Thump. Thump. The best part of the whole thing was that after the first time, in which I was shocked he didn’t break either 6 ribs or the table, he continued to do it. I think he did this 4 or 5 times, while we all stood there and cheered him on like the enablers we are.

Grill master
Every weekend we bbq'd. Of course I never cooked because who in their right mind would let me near an open flame. My friend Meredith took the reigns one evening and while we were inside eating, flames began shooting out of the grill. Our house manager Ian kept asking if there was a fire extinguisher in the house, but none of us seemed in any hurry to find one which looking back is odd since all of the houses on Fire Island are made of wood. That sucker would have gone up in about a second. Somebody call 911, Meredith is fire burnin down the house... oooh ooh oh.

It was a crazy game of flip cup
The people in my house do not take their flip cup lightly. Basically flip cup is an Olympic sport out there. 2 problems with that. One I couldn't remember the last time I had played, and two, I don't really like beer at all let alone at an accelerated drinking pace. My first game I was labeled a "one-handed flipper" because apparently my technique wasn't acceptable. Since then however, I have become quite the expert. Except for the one time I drank so much that I kept turning to my friend Kim telling her I was seriously going to throw up if they made me go first again and I really needed to leave the game. But you can't leave the game... that's how intense it is. I would have been publicly ridiculed and burned at the stake. So I stayed until I literally had to go upstairs, lay on my bed in the fetal position and moan for 10 minutes in order to be able to make it out to the bars.

Ahh summer, where have you gone...
(per Mara: Names are not being changed because no one is innocent...)