[Awesome] Going 2 Hell

I'm going to hell because I'm stealing this from Trickybrit: ever laughed at a funeral? ever made fun of an ugly baby? here we celebrate those with a wicked sense of humor – those that laugh in the face of damnation; that leave flaming piles of crap on the doorstep of decency. here we post our deep dark secrets that are neither too deep nor too dark – that will make people laugh and then feel guilty about it. so, go ahead and confess. after all, if you’re not going to hell, you’re not living properly!

[Real Life] Why Some Animals Eat Their Young

My roommate Padric is currently in NYC. He sent this funny paragraph to me detailing his flight there. Who hasn't had a similar experience?

On my flight over, there were the typical yuppie parents who let their children do what they wanted because it "helps them explore the world" (but in the process annoys the shit out of everyone on the plane). They were speaking to their kid in 5 languages hoping to expand its cranium... which is likely undersized thanks to all the environmental contaminants. The kid was up and about despite the seatbelt sign being on. I prayed that the pilot [would] slam his foot on the brakes and send the kid flying (no pun intended). Alas... no. I was left to suffer. That kid and really, many kids out there, are why animals in the wild eat their young.

[Real Life] Alike But Different

Men and women see things differently, everybody knows that. But did you know that even gay men see things differently than women? They do, I swear. Yeah, I know that will be a surprise to most hetero-male readers (as if any are reading this blog). To illustrate my point: Gay man sends picture to straight woman friend Trickybrit (and please disregard the mini-van mega-fun thing in the center of his chest) and says how he wants to have puppies with Jack Johnson. Straight woman sees picture and sends back bad news Gay man looks again and thinks “well, no harm in just sleeping with him then.” Obviously gay men don't get caught up with the details (which is also a total lie but if I said differently I couldn't make my point.) Damn, I messed it all up.

[Real Life] But soft! What light through yonder window breaks?

I'm sitting on my bed this evening, looking out my windows while talking to Monica on the phone. I look across the street and this man drops some storage boxes in front of a neighbor's garage. The guy climbs the two flights of stairs to the front door, knocks and the does a cute wave at whoever is inside. He looks familiar but I don't have my glasses on. Scrabbling to find them, I trip. Jumping up I see them on the fireplace mantel. I put them on and walk over to the window. Holy shit it’s this guy I have seen on the 33 Stanyan bus, a guy who I have a huge crush on and who I actually know is a good writer.

So now my conversation with Monica has just become a series of "uh-huh." I'm watching this guy interact with whoever is in the house. Then he walks down and I track his movements like a cat about to pounce on its prey.

He picks up the boxes. I'm drooling. He starts to walk across the street and looks up at me in my window. It was totally a Romeo and Juliet moment. Our gazes met, I felt flush and exclaimed, "Holy fucking shit!" and fell down because I was embarrassed.

I hear the noise of the boxes under my window. My heart is beating fast because I think oh he's placing them on top of one another so he can climb up to meet me. But alas, he was just putting them in his car. He drove off, but not before I had popped up and written down his vehicle make, model and license plate number.

If only I had the energy to stalk.

Actually I already knew he lived somewhere on my street. Swoon.

[Real Life] Mr. T Sez

Trickybrit and I have come up with a killer idea for a website. When we revel it some people will freak out but most people will cheer. Because we’re awesome. So until then, enjoy our blogs and this: Mr. T sez, “I pitty the fool who washes me with red socks!”

[Real Life] Preoccupied...

OK-- I was reading sfgate.com this morning and I read this sentence twice:

Right now Mayor Gavin Newsom has a backlog of hundreds of holes that need filling.

Then I realized I was selectively leaving out other words. The real sentence reads:

Right now Mayor Gavin Newsom's crews have a backlog of hundreds of holes that need filling.

Something tells me I'm preoccupied.

[Real Life] Real Smooth

I don't get excited when I see a celebrity in real life. I mean, come on they're just people. So here is a dialogue between me and Sean Penn.

Me: "You dated Jewel Kilcher, right?"

Sean: "Yeah."

Me: "Thought so. I liked your work in 'Fast Times at Ridgemont High', but 'Mystic River' ehhhhh- not so much. (realizing what I had said) Now that I've embarrased myself I'll leave."

Sean: "Don't worry, I get that a lot."

[Real Life] Bitches

Being home in Ukiah has been mostly fun. Then again I did spend most of today down in Sonoma County shopping.

Part of the reason I came up to my parents was to see Libby their 15 year old dog. The family got Libby at my persistance for wanting a dog in 1990. Fortunately my sister's friend had a puppy to give away. My mom thought she was the ugliest puppy ever and we weren't going to get her. She was no bigger than the size of my hand. At first we named her Winston, hoping her vagina was really just a small penis. But she was a girl. My sister named her after my Mom's childhood nick name-- telling everyone it was because both my mom and the dog were bitches.

Now Libby is no bigger than a men's size 12 tennis shoe. She's crusty, cranky and prone to seizures. My mom basically carries her everywhere when Libby isn't sitting with my dad in his chair. She's got overgrown nails that tip tap on the hardwood floors. She's lost a lot of her teeth and her breath reeks of death. Despite that, she still loves to smile for the camera!

[Real Life] Hey-hey, Ho-ho Raping Women Has Got to Go

This weekend I'm visiting my family up in Ukiah, California. While in my mother's workshop this morning, my sister and I heard the distant beat of drums and chants. We rushed outside to see the commotion. A group of protesters were marching down the street. We couldn’t make out their signs or what they were saying. Having an errand to run, my mother and I went to investigate. We walked toward the crowd. “I know what this is” my mom said. “Check it out, the guys are wearing high heel shoes.” Indeed they were. Many had on red stilettos. We now could hear their cheer. Hey-hey, ho-ho, raping women has got to go. Hey-hey, ho-ho, raping women has got to go. "They do this every year," she explained. "Men marching in women's shoes protesting rape." "Awesome." “Know what would be even more awesome? If you threw me down right now and mock-raped me in front of them!" We laughed and ducked inside a sewing store to let them pass us. The marchers congregated in the town square. Their drum beating slowed and their chant became "Rape... NO! Rape... NO!" We went back outside and walked through the square. A woman tried to hand my mom literature. My mom put shook her head and said, "No thanks. I support rape.” It's probably true, I mean she wouldn’t be a very good Republican if she didn’t.

[Real Life] The Gayest Thing

Ok, this could very well be the gayest thing I've seen. No wonder the gays love Joan Crawford: http://www.dan-o-ramaproductions.com/club_10b.html (Thanks for the link Monica!)

[Overheard] Whips and cuffs

Graphic Designer (who is originally from Syria): I need bondage! Lots and lots of bondage!

Staff Dominatrix: I can help you out!

Graphic Designer: I cut my finger and need bondage!

If you haven't taken a moment to check out Trickybrit's Blog, do so now. We're collaborating on a new project that will take the fashion world by storm.

Trickybrit says: my friend eric and i have decided to collaborate on a new line of clothing specifically targeted towards the mentally handicapped. it will be entirely padded and have reflective strips on the sleeves. we're still working out the details, but we're hoping to score ashlee simpson as our celebrity spokesperson. stay tuned for more details.

[Real Life] OK Freud, Interpret

An email to Trickybrit: I'm very tired this morning. I was dreaming that I was drowning in garbage, but not like refuse from houses, but trash from big retail stores. So I was drowning in packages of that wrapped taffy you can buy during Christmas with the little green tree in the center. This black guy on a garbage tractor was driving by. I thought he was going to hit me but he missed. I called out for him save me but he was wearing headphones be-bopping to Juice Newton so I just sank and sank until only my hand was above the candy. It was horrible.

OK Freud, interpret.

Trickybrit's response:

OOO! I love analyzing dreams! Even though my favourite online dictionary isn’t working lately. anyway...

To see piles of garbage in your dream, forewarns of scandal and that you need to change your old ways and bad habits. And the fact that you were drowning in it??? No good. And to see or eat candy in your dream, symbolizes the joys and special treats in life. It also represents indulgence, sensuality and/or forbidden pleasure. So the fact that you were drowning in candy garbage means you need to like totally chill out and check yo self before you is be wreckin yoself. It also means that you are a jew. And god smites jews.

You know what your dream reminded me of? That scene at the end of Terminator II when he goes into the molten lava at the end until just his hand is sticking up and then (because apparently when your entire body is melted, you can still control your hand) he gives the thumbs-up sign. That’s awesome. Did you give the thumbs up amidst the trash in your dream?? Because if not, you go back to bed right now and redream it right this time!

[AVFMC] I'm Scared

[Real Life] Curt* New Yorker: Scene II

(Ring, ring, ring, ring, ring)

New Yorker: “Business Records” Me: “Hi, I need some information about a DBA.” NY: “We're located—" Me: “Look, I’m in San Francisco. I sent a letter a month ago with a SASE, a money order—" NY: “Name of the business?” Me: “A Sweatshop**” NY: “A Sweatshop?” Me: “Yep.” NY: “HOLD!” (twiddle thumbs – twiddle thumbs)

NY: “HELLO!***” Me: “Ouch, yeah?” NY: “A Sweatshop?” Me: “Yep.” NY: (to someone in the same room) “Yeah, he said ‘A Sweatshop.’”

(Indiscernible female voice in the background)

NY: “She says it’s not in our computer. She’s going to have to look it up manually.” Me: “How long will that take?” NY Female in the Background: “I’m only one woman! I'm only one woman! I’m only one woman!” NY: “She’s only one woman. She's completely backed up. She's only one woman. You understand?” NY Female in the Background: “I’m only one woman! I'm only one woman! I’m only one woman!” Me: (laughing) “Umm, yeah-- so like, never.****”

(Click*****)

* This time it’s really rude. NY County Clerk's office has to be outsourced to a penitentiary—though I think the guys in the pen are probably a lot nicer.

** Not the real name of the company

*** He yelled so loud it frightened a coworker in my office. I think he damaged my ear drum.

**** This is not a misogynistic statement, rather a statement about ineptness.

***** I hung up on him.

[AVFMC] So, Where's the Snorkel?

[Awesome] She's Done It

Courtney is blogging! Check out Tricky Brit!

[Real Life] Shudder

Walking down 18th this morning and despite wearing sunglasses the sun blinded me. I had just passed the Taqueria on the corner of Collingwood when I noticed this gross man walking towards me. Unkempt with his blue jeans tucked into combat lace-up boots he leered. He had a trucker hat that just topped his skull making him look like one of the SNL coneheads. I powered forward and passed him without incident.

I heard someone say in my direction, "Hey-- how're you doing?" It took me a moment to realize it wasn't the leering miscreant I had just passed. Without finding out who was talking I just answered, as if rhetorically, "Fine and yourself?" I turned to see who had spoken to me.

"Just great!" the man said.

Gutteraly I let out an Urrrg-blech and gave the man a look of utter horror. The man was a WC Fields look-a-like who lives in Casa Sanchez and occasionally pulls out of his garage when I'm walking by. He'll slow down his car, watch me pass, pull forward, stop and watch me pass. The last time he did it I flipped him off.

I had to high-tail it into work at that point. I still feel dirty and violated.

[Real Life] MISSING!

MISSING

Have You Seen Ronald?

Age: 29 Height: 8" Weight: 4oz

Last Seen in the Lower Haight Neighborhood of San Francisco.

If You Know His Whereabouts, Please Email Me Immediately.

There May Even Be A REWARD For His Safe Return

[Real Life] Nicky Pickles

My friend Nick has started a new blog: The Myth-Adventures of Nicky Pickles-- it's on my roll. Check it out.

[AVFMC] Was it Worth It?

[Real Life] April, Ick

April has offically become the month I despise the most. Not only are federal and state taxes due on the 15th, but I have to renew my vehicle registration, and start paying back my student loans. This leaves me without any money-- so I guess I'll be eating beans and rice until the middle of May. (You've been warned!)

[Found] Trimming the Grass

My mom and sister were pretty tickled when they found this ad in their local paper. So much so they cut it out and delivered it to me. Personally I would like to see the guy on a rider mower and why not have crew of gardeners with weed whackers and hedge clippers?

[Found] Love Ya!

Digging through a shoe box filled with photographs whilst watching “Roseanne” I came upon a wrinkled up note. In March of 2003 Monica and I flew down to Long Beach for our Spring Break. We stayed at the Westin and had a pretty spectacular view of the Pacific Ocean and construction. Before we left Monica found a note folded up and tucked behind the hair dryer in the bathroom. Note Front Note Back This prompted us to continue the gymnastic tradition and leave a note for the next people to find. I wish I had kept a copy of that note, in which we spoofed gymnasts: Tara became a boozer who competed drunk on the balance beam and Amanda became a whore, as we know all gymnast are—who made her very own amateur film debut in "Bend it Like Gumby," filmed in our suite and at the Queen Mary where she gave out handjobs to tourist and ghosts. "ectoplasm, ewww!"

[Real Life] Saturday at the Pier

It's interesting how a drunk parking his bike before walking into an IHOP can be a very welcome sight. Monica and I met up this afternoon before going down to Tourist Central, Pier 39. After braving a few hills, Ms. M having to hold on to me as we descended a steep Leavenworth stretch of street (I fall walking on flat land with these sandles) we were feeling a bit peckish. We decided upon a little dive only to find out that it closed at 2 PM. So we wandered towards the International House of Pancakes. It was outside the IHOP that we saw a very intoxicated man walking a bicycle. His hair was string, greasy and foul. He had a 70's style mustache (or current day Kentucky) and was reddened and leathery from the sun. He parked his bike and walked into the restaurant and Monica and I followed his lead. At the counter, an Asian woman named Annie confronted Mr. Boozer in a polite giggle way. "Ohhh, Meester you must-a leave." She then called for the male waiter to come over he ordered the guy off the premises. Mr. Boozer didn't pay much attention grabbing a handful of cinnamon starlite mints and some individually wrapped toothpicks. He flung a few on the floor, the mints shattering upon contact. Monica and I laughed a little as we waited to be seated. Finally Mr. Boozer acquiesced and went back outside. I think he only wanted to get some coffee. Monica gleefully watched him try to move his bike only to crash it into a few tourists. After lunch we headed over to Pier 39. Usually we would have bought water guns to shoot at tourists before asking them for money. But instead we went with an even older gag of acting like German tourists and saying a lot of ja-ja's. That was until we decided to be Japanese, which is hard to pull off when I look like a typical Scandinavian/Celtic mix, however Monica does look like a JAP. After the requisite Blue Chip Cookie we headed to the new home of the Musée Mécanique. We had our fortunes told by a few machines, watched some risqué 10 cent picture shows and delighted in viewing a moving diorama titled "Opium Den"-- where the characters had the shakes, a Chinese dragon came through a window, and skeletons were in the closet. Oh how it makes me wish opium was legal! We wandered out of the Museé and on to the SS Jeremiah O'Brien, a Liberty Ship that was sailed during WWII. We got in for the senior citizen price and took a self guided tour. It was simply amazing. I have a new respect for anyone in the navy. I don't think I could ever do it. Descending into the engine room which is four flights down was exhilarating as was sitting at one of the gun turrets. I can't even imagine floating on the ocean and being at war. I snapped some good photos of Monica on the port side with Alcatraz in the background. I also took some photos of the naked woman paintings found on the bow. Oh those sailors...

Perky, ain't they!

Coffee (chai soy latté for me) was the next stop on our agenda, soon followed by a trip to Cost Plus. I bought photo albums and Monica bought potpourri. All and all, it was a fantastic Saturday.

[Real Life] Curt* New Yorker

(Ring, ring, ring, ring, ring)

New Yorker: “New York County Clerk’s Office” Me: “Hi, I need to inquire about—“ NY: “You need to call back Monday before 3 PM.” Me: “What? “ NY: “The person who deals with—“ Me: “Deals with? How do you know what I wa—“ NY: “Is only here until 3.” Me: “April Fools?” NY: “What?” Me: “Seriously, I need to speak with some—“ NY: “Not here until Monday and before 3.” ** Me: “What’s your address?” NY: “Monday before 3.” Me: “Street?” NY: “Monday before 3.” Me: “Zip?” NY: “Before 3.” Me: “No thank you very much.” NY: “3”

(click)

* Yes, I know New Yorker automatically implies curtness, but those on the "left coast" need a reminder.

** This is where the phone call actually ended. Like a New Yorker would stay on the line past that point.