The AARP hates me

In my continued effort to offend everyone and/or highlight the ridiculousness of the majority of people in our society, I’d like to focus today on the third tier of people who seem to think they can do whatever they want... Old people. Yesterday while I was waiting for the bus, I chose to sit in the last of three seats at the bus stop. Some of the newer bus stops have a bench that is designated, with partitions, into three separate seats. I was sitting near the edge of the bench with my purse next to me on the seat, when an older woman walked over, eyed my bag and said “is that your purse”? When I went to move it, she motioned like she was going to sit down. Let’s stop here and review a couple sentences back when I mentioned that the bench is partitioned into three seats. Was I supposed to let her sit basically on me, in what was designed to be ONE SEAT? Sorry Charlie. So of course, as these situations tend to go, the other person is the clear rude one, but somehow you end up being the bitch... I said to her “yes, but it’s one seat...” You can imagine to yourself what my face looked like.

Example 2. Today while in the Duane Reade downstairs with my co-worker Caryn, we were patiently waiting on line so that I could purchase my Goldfish crackers, because apparently as of recent I only eat snacks that are in the shape of fish. An older gentleman was milling around the checkout area and fully cut the entire line. He was lucky he had a cane... (not because I feel bad for him not being able to stand around and wait in line, but because I was scared he’d beat me with it if I said anything to him...)

I swear I really do like kids and animals...

This post is bound to offend someone, but hell, it surely wouldn’t be the first time...

It seems that if you have something smaller than you that is generally considered cute, for example a kid or a dog, you are somehow excused from normally acceptable courteous behavior. One would never think to get on a crowded subway or bus, find no seats available, turn to a friend and whine “I want to sit dowwwwwnnnn” and expect anyone to actually get up. However when a kid does it, that’s somehow okay? I find this so perplexing. Your kid’s rough life consists of attending preschool, finger painting all day and going to bed at 7pm, he definitely has more energy than I do, I’m pretty sure he’ll be fine standing. I’d get up for the elderly dude with the walker or the preggers lady, but that’s about it. Are we really expected to forfeit our seats and therefore teach your child that whining can get him things that he wants? Why don’t you instead politely inform your child that we do not behave like that in polite society? Oh that’s right because everything kids do is precious.

Dogs are cute too, so by this rule it’s okay when walking yours to criss-cross the entire sidewalk like you were impersonating a drunk, have the leash extended to roughly 5 feet so that if anyone wanted to actually pass you, they’d have to jump rope, and randomly just stop short. All of that ridiculous behavior is somehow okay because you have a fluffy dog? I f*&king hate people.

Putting out an APB

WANTED!!!!

Severely deranged individual (and possible accomplices) who consumed and/or stole my pregnant friend’s birthday cupcakes. Be on alert that the suspects are sneaky and apparently very hungry.

6 large cupcakes from Crumb’s bakery, last seen in my friend’s office refrigerator yesterday afternoon have thus since disappeared. This is most likely not the first time a refrigerator bandit has struck and commandeered something that belonged to someone else from a work fridge. But I thought it was pretty clear that you don’t mess with someone else’s cupcakes. I urge whomever has committed this atrocity to come forward. If you turn yourself in, and therefore avoid us having to finger print the fridge and track your trail of frosting... Oh and trust me we will find you, my friend is obsessed with CSI... Maybe, just maybe, I’ll convince the hormonal pregnant lady to go easy on you....

Let’s not speak... Let’s just gawk

Ok, now we can speak. Apparently Mikey will not be appearing on the Wheaties box. No, it will be Kellogg’s instead.

Access Hollywood reports that Kellogg’s confirmed to them that Phelps will appear on both Kellogg’s Corn Flakes and Kellogg’s Frosted Flakes.

Frosted Flakes?? Isn’t Tony the Tiger gonna be KINDA pissed off? He definitely does not think that is “gr-r-reat!”. And why must Mikey appear on Flakes boxes? Because Wheaties is flakes too? Is there some kind of athlete/flake law? Why the hell can’t he appear on Cocoa Krispies? Because I’m telling you, in a brawl between Mikey and all 3 of those cereal mascots, Snap, Crackle, and Pop are the first ones going down, followed closely by the Corn Flakes chicken. Tony is totally going to put up a decent fight.

Dreamweaver

Sat at home and laughed my ass off during this segment of the Today Show this morning. Definitely worth viewing.

More Olympics Quickies

Michael Phelps is a god. I can’t even dive without holding my nose, but I am loving this swimming. I am so in awe of these new high tech suity outfits they are wearing. My dad and I were talking about it the other night. Each suit costs about $500 and apparently they only last a couple days because they are so difficult to get in and out of. After informing me that it takes about a half hour to carefully get into that contraption without ripping it, he goes on to ask very philosophically… What happens if they have to pee? Do they pee in the Olympic pool? They so do. Doesn’t everyone pee in the pool?

Kerri Walsh and Misty May-Treanor are the coolest chicks on the beach. However, they should probably never leave the beach again. The footage that was shown last night of them on their day off touring China ruined my perception of them as cool forever. Walsh was wearing shorts and white socks LITERALLY pulled up to her calves. Are you my Grandfather or the most amazing beach volleyball player ever? Meanwhile Misty was doing some sort of chicken dance down the steps of a Chinese temple. This is not my Bat Mitzvah, it’s the Olympics. I’m not sure if they can ever be cool again after that.

Wow, scary accurate

If anyone was ever interested in what I actually do... Let’s just say... I thought up what it says on the hypothetical stop sign.

Olympic Quickies

Coca cola is running their “collectible cans” commercials. They have Olympic commemorative cans. Yippee. Who the hell cares? Who collects soda cans?… well besides the bums in my neighborhood. I'm sure they're stoked.

So much is being made of this USA vs. China rivalry. I’m gonna go out on a limb and say I’m pretty confident in our abilities. We beat them at Basketball. Although if the Olympic Committee added a new event called Dating White Guys… we’d definitely lose.

3 words. Michael Phelps’ body. Spectacular. He doesn’t even have to get in the pool to win a gold medal in my eyes, as soon as that shirt comes off... Everyone wins.

An open letter to John Edwards

Dear John,

I regret to inform you that it has come to my attention, and every other person’s since it is plastered in 20 point font as breaking news on MSNBC, that you are a cheating scumbag. Not only could you not keep it in your pants while you were attempting to run for the highest office, clearly learning nothing from those who have thought with the wrong head before you, but you also cheated on a wife who has CANCER. You are the lowest of the lowbags. You are so low, you are practically in the earth’s core. I am ashamed to admit that I donated hours of my time volunteering with your sham of a campaign. In fact, I would like my time back.

Moving forward while we all heal, I have to say, if there is anything I have learned from this situation it is that I should not doubt the truth uncovering power of The National Enquirer. There is some seriously award winning detective work being done there.

In conclusion, I hope your wife leaves you. Or better yet, I hope she kicks your scrawny ass, because she can, messes up your pretty boy hair, and then leaves you.

Good luck with the love child you claim is not yours! Clearly you are very forthcoming with the truth.

Best Regards!

Nothing funny about that

The new Fall television season is almost upon us. Every year this is like the ultimate crap shoot for me. Somehow I always end up choosing incorrectly and investing my time in shows like "The Nine", or "Kidnapped" which get canceled before they are ever resolved. Talk about TV blue balls. How am I supposed to go about living without ever knowing how it was supposed to end?? I need closure!

This summer I got sucked into Last Comic Standing. Generally I enjoyed it. Everyone can use an hour or so of lighthearted comedic attempts to brighten up the week. (Probably why half of you are reading this blog post right now). Well last night was the finale where they crowned the winner. I DVR'd it and attempted to catch part of it this morning before some dickwad news site like CNN ruined it for me. Alas, during playback I realize what I am watching is in fact not Last Comic Standing, rather America's Got Talent. Somehow the presence of the Hoff must have tipped me off. WTF??? Are you kidding??? How am I supposed to know who wins??? If I continue to use three question marks, will I ever get the answers I demand???

I think this post I found on a fansite sums it up quite nicely...

Yeah, thanks for nothing NBC.
If I wanted to watch America's Got Talent I would have set the DVR for it.
Douche Bags
NBC Sucks | Aug 8, 2008 10:36:54 AM |

Bitchtastic

In accordance with exactly how my life would go, since I made the resolute vow to talk to Cameron Mathison the next time I saw him or be struck down on the spot and forever branded as the cowardly lion, I have not run into him again. I mean who among us couldn’t have seen that one coming?? So today I choose to bring you other All My Children related fun. I have been watching this webisode series called Imaginary Bitches, starring and created by one of the actresses that used to be on my show, who (whom?) I actually met briefly at the rooftop party many years ago with my friend Mara. The show is absolutely hilarious and I firmly believe you should watch it, now. I’ve taken the liberty of posting one of my favorite episodes, the rest of the series can be viewed at imaginarybitches.com. I promise you will not want these 7 minutes of your life back.

Gone fishin...

Every two or three days the same thing happens, like clockwork. My co-worker Caryn comes over to my desk, asks if I want to take a walk and I say “yes, I ran out of fishies.” So off to Duane Reade we go, so I can spend $4.31 on two bags of assorted fish. I don’t think there’s another person on the planet who eats as many Swedish fish as I do. I’m not even sure how it happened. I used to be into the Jujy fruits, but who wants to eat fruits when you can eat fish!... By the pound. Awesomely enough, I was at a college themed party in Phili last weekend and someone brought Swedish fish soaked in vodka. WHY did I not know about this until now?? Do you know how much better my afternoons could be if I let my fish go swimming in Smirnoff?? Oh the possibilities...

Bat Update

Have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight????? First off, for all the great buzz Heath Ledger is getting for his amazing performance in the new Batman movie, I have to say... Jack, when he killed the Wayne parents... I was pretty damn scared! Well I was also 9.

Anywho, the bat is officially gone from my house. Although that didn't stop me from thinking I heard weird noises in my room when I was home. Especially since it looked like my room had been ransacked. Pictures turned down, stuff everywhere, bed unmade. Apparently they found the bat hiding behind my dresser. No Mara, sadly it was not found on my prom dress. The only things on that puppy are moth balls.

Why soooo serious????

It is with true pleasure and complete irony that I bring to you this almost too perfect to be true conversation that occurred this morning between my mother and myself. If you’re a follower of the blog, you are already aware that I saw The Dark Knight with my brother last weekend which led to my reminiscing not really very fondly about my own encounter 5 years ago with a winged mammal. And then if not perfectly on cue... This happens...

Mom: the alarm went off at 6 am! got so scared...there’s another bat in the house...dad trapped it in ur room but animal control officer coouldn’t find it
Jess: OH LOVELY
Jess: btw just so we’re clear, I am SO NOT coming home on sunday if that thing isn't caught
Mom: it’s probably hanging on one of your dresses in the closet taking a nap
Jess: I love how u are finding humor in this
Jess: that was a seriously traumatic moment in my life
Jess: flying rodents are NOT FUNNY
Mom: I am so agitated to have to wait now for a pest control company
Mom: 1pm-hope they find it
Jess: are we maybe thinking it's time to have our house bat proofed??
Mom: we thought we did! closed up the attic fan from inside and out-got new attic door in the hall
Mom: it’s about the same time of year exactly each time
Jess: happy anniversary bat!
Mom: they said it is sleeping now so it’s safe for me to be in the house
Jess: u are braver than me
Jess: I’d be in the garage again
Mom: would u take a shower if u were me?
Jess: I wouldn't leave the spot I was in and I would close the door just to be sure... if I were you
Jess: being attacked by a bat and subsequently getting rabies... not really on my list of things to do
Jess: anytime soon
Mom: I can’t wait until 1pm! I won’t sleep tonight if they don’t find it!!!!!!!!!!
Jess: you better hope they find it then...

Quickies

I hate people who notice about a quarter of an inch of free space on the subway and decide that somehow because they are completely delusional (and obnoxious) they can squeeze their fat ass onto the seat. Are you people for real? I’d like to offer you some polite advice, just freaking stand. We’ve all had to do it one time or another. It’s seriously SO not the end of the world. Because I have to tell you, there is absolutely no reason that I can think of in which you need to sit on top of me. None whatsoever. I should have just ended the first sentence at I hate people.

I was at my friend Mara’s last night watching DJ, the second cutest grey cat, play with a toy on a string. What would it be like to be simple minded enough to find something so inane like that endlessly amusing? Oh right, the other day I was in Duane Reade and came across greeting cards that play music when you open them, so I proceeded to stand there for 10 minutes and open every one of them. I was mesmerized... Yet the other customers were clearly not as amused.

The trial of the century—Results

After careful planning (using the scientific method), the Phase I munchkin preference clinical trial was run today by the R&D department, which consists of really, well, just me (and no I am not wearing safety goggles). The box of 50 randomized munchkins contained 10 samples of 5 varieties (presented in no specific order: chocolate glazed, glazed, jelly, cinnamon, powdered) and was placed strategically far enough away from my chair in order to monitor the trial, but not intimidate or influence the results. The trial commenced at 9:15 am. For full Study Design details, see “The Trial of the Century” post.

10:15 – Something alarming has happened. I am shocked that people seem to not like donuts anymore. Free donuts. What the hell is wrong with this world? Is the box invisible? Are people not eating them because I am sitting here? Maybe I should hide under my desk...

11:15 – The eating has begun. People are warming up to the donuts. Lots of powdered and cinnamon are being left on the top of the pile. Until one of my co-workers parks herself right next to the box and proceeds to eat 4 powdered holes. There’s always gotta be one subject skewing the results, I’ve taken note to keep my eye on her.

12:15 – 7 cinnamon, 1 powdered left. Couple of chocolate glazed and jelly, which is quite surprising. I’m not sure if this is an adequate sampling, we may need to run a Phase II trial. But I do still contend that the last ones in the box will be cinnamon or powdered.

2:15- 5 cinnamon, 1 powdered, 2 chocolate glazed are left. The unpopularity of cinnamon has been proven, with half remaining 5 hours into the study. Surprisingly chocolate glazed has seen an unprecedented decline in popularity.

3:15 – The chocolate glazed are gone. Leaving 5 cinnamon and 1 powdered.

The original hypothesis proves true. Experiments are fun... Especially when I’m right, and they involve donut hole treats.

Disclosures: Investigator consumed 1 chocolate glazed, 1 jelly and 2 glazed, but these consumptions were not deemed statistically relevant in determining the outcome of the trial.

Posting from the RTW archives

If you haven't already seen the new Batman flick, you must. Go now. It was awesome. And I fully contend that the next movie should have the Penguin in it. Penguins are psychotic.

I have never met Batman, but I did have a really fun encounter with a bat 5 years ago...

Volume CXXVII - Who's on First, but I'm up to Bat

As if moving day wasn’t exciting enough with our white trash moving aficionados, one who looked remarkably like Jesus, another who kept asking when the first party was (um yea lemme think… not invited…) and the one who after repeatedly being told that Lisa went to college in Atlanta, kept asking me if I was from “out there” too (I’d hardly refer to Atlanta as “out there”, maybe try down there?). I get back to my parents house (how nice does that sound… parents house… …) and all I want to do is put my feet up and relax. I pop in the All My Children video and begin to sift through the remnants of the Sunday paper, am cutting out coupons for Dawn and Cascade (ok I’m either really poor or 80 years old…) when all of a sudden I see something fly into the room and back out. Now, it’s been a very long day (although I don’t recall taking any drugs, maybe I did and I forgot…). I had three cups of coffee and thought the moving man was Jesus…maybe I’m just delirious… Yes, delirious… totally hallucinating… then I see it again. (Ok NOT hallucinating there is a large thing flying around my house). Exactly on cue I freak. My parents are stuck in South Carolina because all flights were cancelled so it’s just me, Smokey, coupons and something that is definitely not supposed to be in my house… and it has wings. What to do? I’m 23, I’m a big girl (who's watching tv with a stuffed animal...), maybe it’s a bird… Don't panic, remain calm... I’ll just open the door to the garage and will it through osmosis to fly out there, shut the door, open the garage door and it’ll fly out… (fly out, fly out I say… please???). Unfortunately that doesn’t seem to be working as well as planned, so I call my Dad and start to hysterically cry (because that solves everything!). He thinks I’m joking (does this sound like someone who is JOKING???) Meanwhile I am screaming into the phone as the flying thing crashes into something in my house and ends up crawling along the floor (uh definitely not a bird)… there is a bat in my house (and my screaming has screwed up its sonar). My father’s solution is to go to Lisa’s… (itsy bitsy problem… one I have no shoes on and it’s raining out, two my car keys are upstairs and I am not leaving the spot where I am because I have no idea where the bat is but I know for sure it’s not in here anymore…) He tells me to call the police (and why he has the precinct number memorized is a question for another day…). The dispatcher calls animal control… (k, great, good, fine). I refuse to sit and wait for it to fly back in and attack me so I grab Smokey and 4 phones and proceed into the garage to sit and wait for them to rescue me…
It’s now been like 45 minutes of me (wearing no shoes), my stuffed cat and every piece of telecommunications equipment in my house trying to find stuff to amuse myself with in the garage (oooh a rake, fun). Finally the animal lady calls and informs me she can’t come unless I see the bat (make no mistake about it, I saw it) because when it’s flying around it looks huge but it’s really not (oh no lady, it was huge, it was SO big, and I wish I wasn’t talking about a bat right now…) She wants me to try and contain it in one room (yea you have a better chance of seeing God than me going back in that house and chasing around a flying rodent). If I get a neighbor though, we can go in together and close some doors to rule out where the bat could be. This seems to be my only option of returning to my house anytime soon, but I’m not wearing any shoes! My only choices in the garage are my mom’s snow boots or roller blades (yes folks, I wore shorts and snow boots… it was quite a sight). I proceed next door to the Weiner’s (funny that I’m acting like a weinee and I have to solicit help from someone named Weiner…). He gets hats and a broom and we go searching for the bat like an episode of the crocodile hunter (aw krieke I think I’ve spotted the sucker, we’ll sneak up behind it…). We stare blankly at it for a half hour while the animal lady takes her sweet time getting to my house (what are you freeing raccoons and mending fawns legs, get your ass over here!). Takes it upon herself to give me a lesson about bats, there are only two kinds, small brown bat and large brown bat, looks like mine (why is it mine? I have in no way claimed the bat…) is a large brown bat (I don’t care if it’s a bird or a plane, get it out of my house!) Michael Keaton, Val Kilmer, or George Clooney I’ll take, bat without the man… I’m gonna have to pass…

RTW © 2003

Slydial-er

Greatest news! All of those times I have called you and sat there with my fingers and toes crossed, loudly praying that you would not pick up, repeating the mantra voice mail, voice mail, voice mail... Will never have to happen again! Because now there is Slydial!

“Slydial lets you connect directly with another person's cell phone voice mail, bypassing the traditional ringing process that often results — sometimes disastrously — with someone picking up on the other end.”

Traditional ringing process? Someone picking up on the other end? Hence CALLING SOMEONE? I am so confused. You call someone and if they pick up it’s a disaster? What the hell did you think was going to happen?? If you don’t want to talk to someone, why don’t you just write them a letter? E-mail? Text? I know they say breaking up with someone over email or text message is pretty cowardly (ie, DICK), but really... Isn’t maliciously and strategically bypassing them being able to pick up the phone by using a service aptly named Slydial just a little bit worse??

I love being 12

Jess: we need to talk about how I really like the new miley album
Jess: I think I am 12
Jess: I needed to get that off my chest
Katie: ooh I like it too
Jess: you're taking 7 steps hereee...
Katie: THE 7 THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU
Katie: OH YOU
Katie: YOURE A PAIN YOURE VAIN YOURE INSECURE
Katie: YOU LOVE ME YOU LIKE HER
Katie: YOU MAKE ME LAUGH
Katie: YOU MAKE ME CRY
Katie: I DONT KNOW WHICH SIDE TO BUY
Katie: YOURE FRIENDS THEYRE JERKS
Katie: WHEN YOU ACT LIKE THEM
Katie: JUST KNOW IT HURTS
Katie: I WANNA BE WITH THE ONE I KNOW
Katie: AND THE 7TH THING I HATE THE MOST THAT YOU DOOOOOOOO
Jess: you make me love you
Katie: HAHAHAH
Jess: haha had to get that one in there
Jess: oh miley

Gangster's paradise

What up yo homies? How yous doin? Word! As you can see I am practicing my ghetto fabulous, since apparently yesterday I was accused by one of my co-workers of being so un-ghetto. What? Excuse me? I am so ghetto! I am so ghetto it hurts. Like it’s really painful. Just because I don’t wear a clock around my neck, does not mean I cannot roll with my posse. Represent! I’ll take down any one of you fools. I dare you to step! I am packing serious heat. Aw shizz.

Just to prove my intense ghetto-ness, I put my name into a Gangsta name generator. Because I am a gangster. Seriously, you do not want to mess with me. I am Sherman Tank Bastard and I will mess you up, for realz yo. And I hang with my entourage of co-gangsters Heavy Jimmy Jamma and Sweet Bitch Ass (I mean, obviously I put my co-worker’s names in too). If you’d like to join our gang, put your name into the Gansta name generator...

http://gangstaname.com/index.php