Archive for August, 2007

Every Monday At 9, Folks

August 22, 2007

Nicole: I don’t think I’d like drag queen bingo.

Me: I think you say things like that just to say it. You’d love it, it’s funny. Also, I get the distinct impression that drag queens of all ages would love you.

Nicole: I’m sure the drag queens are very nice people, but I won’t enjoy drag queen bingo prizes. I think they’d love me because their prizes would succeed in making me very uncomfortable the entire time I’m playing bingo. I think they’d see the look on my face when I received the first prize of a book of vaginas* and they’d realize I’m an easy target for humiliation. So, I’m gonna pass on the drag queen bingo.

Me: I’ll take the prize. Also, I think drag queens would just be drawn to you. I think they’d just want to love and be friends with you. I think that this would be a very natural feeling for a drag queen. I bet they are always on the lookout for you. Just like a koala and a good eucalyptus tree.

Nicole: So which am I in this koala and eucalyptus tree scenario?

Me: Which ever one the drag queen eats.

Nicole: Aww…I don’t like that at all

*It wasn’t a book. It was a coloring book. And all the vaginas** were from people who posed, so that means it is classy.

**Spell check tells me that ‘vaginas’ is incorrect. As if there can never be more than one vagina present at a time. That, in fact, more than one vagina is linguistically unimaginable and could never be envisioned by the human mind without the very fabric of reality coming undone. Into a sea of vaginas. Plural.

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I’m Pretty Sure Other People Don’t Do This

August 21, 2007

Since I moved to New York, I’ve been on a budget. One that I almost entirely ignore on a day to day basis on account of the fact that there is food out there, a lot of it, and how will it ever get eaten and in my belly if I don’t get off my ass and pass over that cash? So, YOU’RE WELCOME, New York. What a thankless job.

Because of this, I’ve been sleeping on an air mattress. Right in the corner of my room, surrounded by pretty much everything I own, is my queen sized aero-bed where I lay my head every night.

I haven’t been really concerned about this style of living. To be honest, I could care less about not having a real bed. I’m comfortable enough, am not concerned with the cost of upkeep or violating a warranty, and am low enough to the ground that if a fire starts somewhere in my building, I won’t asphyxiate in my sleep on the fumes. Also, my room looks huge from here.

In fact, I’m pretty sure I’m ahead of the game, because only morally forsaken people have slept on mattresses. No, it’s true. Look it up in the history books, fools. Eva Braun slept on a Sealy.

I’ve been fine with my bedroom furniture until recently. I had come home from work one day to find my bed slightly deflated, sagging under the weight of my blankets and some clothes. I pushed the button to trigger the inflation, and when it was done, I heard a very slight hissing. Upon inspection, I noticed a tiny hole, no bigger than a pin would make, in the center of my mattress.

No worries. Even when laying on the mattress at night, the next morning it was still passable as a sleeping surface. My life goes on.

It got to the point that the hole began to increase in size. Making it so that a night’s sleep would be interrupted by my having to refill the mattress. So the next day, after work, I headed to the store to pick up the most logical item to fix the solution.

If you said ‘patching kit’ sold by the makers of my air mattress, you would be illogical and asked to leave this blog.

Duct tape. Of course.

So when I got home, I fixed up the hole with a few pieces of the all purpose fixer upper. That night, I refilled my mattress, put my head to rest, and had a good night’s rest. Go me and my problem solving skills!

You can learn something about yourself from every problem you encounter. Mine being that my foresight is so incredibly weak it leaves others wondering why I don’t accidentally drown myself when thoroughly washing my hair.

It wasn’t long until the hole started getting bigger. Pin sized to pencil sized. Then pencil sized to finger sized. It was at this point that my duct tape job was becoming increasingly more painstaking, turning more from simple carpentry to a challenging game of Operation. Each night was barely a success, but I stuck at it.

About a week ago, I entered into what I should have known would be the point of no return. The hole was bigger [three fingers wide] making it impossible for the tape to hold off the hissing air for longer than a few hours by itself. So again, I took what was the most obvious, logical step to remedy this issue.

At night, I would tape it up as best I could, then plug up the rest with my thigh or butt cheek.

This would entail a very strategic sleeping approach, the likes of which would probably have impressed some of the major political and war strategists of our time. Every night, after taping up the hole, I’d crawl into bed, being careful not to shift enough weight for the air to burst through my carefully made aero-bed bandage. Then, in one swift movement, I would maneuver myself over the hole, drop my cheek, and listen. After I was assured of my success, I went to sleep.

And friends, when I tell you that I kept my thigh and or butt cheek in that spot all night, I do not lie. Even in the middle of the night and REM cycle, I would toss in a way where my ass never left that hole. I’m pretty sure I now qualify for the U.S. gymnastics team, because I now bend in ways that can only be deemed ungodly. Foresight be damned.

It wasn’t until a few nights ago when the hole got so big [one adult-sized fist] that both my tape and butt plug maneuvers weren’t cutting it*. Several times a night I would make up to refill my mattress, until it got to the point where my frustration peaked, making me rip off the duct tape and quickly sink to the floor.

And now, I write to you from my deflated air mattress, on the floor, from my room. Like a bedless loser. I’ll switch makeshift beds throughout the night, moving from the small, but comfortable couch in my room to the ample sized but hard floor.

Not to worry, though. My new, wonderful mattress will be coming from Macy’s this Saturday, whereupon I will lie upon it in all it’s glory. Perhaps even break the stereotype of immoral mattress users. But probably not eating.

*I think you should all be very proud of me that I used the words ‘hole’, ‘one adult-sized fist’ and ‘butt plug’ were used in an entirely non sexual way in the same sentence. You can send over the Nobel any time you’re ready.

Gayest. Prison. Ever.

August 8, 2007

There’s so many questions I have right now, because this video makes my mind explode with its ridiculousness.

What was the cause of this? Was it low morale? Were the inmates not exercising? Was it a Kevin Bacon / Footloose scenario, where dance has once again been allowed into their sleepy, hum drum lives, forever freeing them from the shackles of conformity and despair and opening up a world full of jazz hands and spirit fingers? I can’t grasp this at all.

I’m also baffled by what must be the must bizarre and heated of social dynamics that exist here. Are the border dancers jealous of the inside dancers? Are the inside dancers the tops of the meat market? And who made that poor man dress up as a woman and run around in woman’s clothes, with his receding hairline exposed with his hair tied into a ponytail? How many times was his ass passed around like a salt shaker at dinner before the general prison public decided to throw a Michael Jackson party and shove him into the courtyard dressed up like a lady?

I have this conversation going on in my head right now between the warden and all the guards. “Men. You know what this prison needs? You know what these inmates NEED?” And all the guards are sitting there, holding their night sticks and getting all excited about the possibility of scheduled beatings or earlier curfews or whatever those people have to look forward to in their job.

“Dance. This place needs DANCE!” And like an ocean wave, it hits everyone that yes, THIS is what they have been waiting for, because nothing else in the world makes more sense than incorporating mass synchronized dance performances into the judicial system, and if someone tries to tell you differently, they’re a fucking liar, because dance has the power to rehabilitate even the most sociopathic of criminals and turn them into Donny Osmond, and that is what we need in this world. More Donny Osmond.

I bet that guy dressed as a lady got nailed by most of the inmates after they finished filming, though. A lot.

City Statistics

August 7, 2007

As of this post, there are an estimated 6.6 billion people living on this planet right now.

Of those 6 billion, a little over 300 million people live right here in the United States.

Now, about 8 million of those people live in New York City alone. Which, when you think about it, is a pretty big number for one city alone. About .1% of the world’s population.

Drilling down even further, there are about 4.9 million subway patrons every day in New York City. This isn’t including buses, either. So, according to these figures, almost 2/3rds of people living in New York City use the subway system each and every day.

Stick with me, now, we’re almost there. This means that about 1.6% of the United States’ population travels through the tunnels of NYC on a daily basis. Or, to put it into broader terms, .07% of the world travels this city’s subway system, each and every day.

Now, kids. With the N and W trains traveling east towards Queens at about 35 mph, making for an average door to door travel time of 30 minutes, can someone tell me, using the information you have been given above, what the odds are that John will ride the same train car as the woman who threatens to squirt her milk at those who don’t give up their seat.

Bonus points for telling me the velocity at which said milk would have ejaculated towards intended target.

Please show your work. Penmanship counts.

Tiffany Knows How To Say Happy Birthday

August 5, 2007

Hello Birthday Boy! Happy Birthday! I just, JUST got out of church. We had a guest speaker today and…he was feeling the spirit. So I was going to text you during church to say ‘Happy Birthday’ but I felt that was impersonal. So Happy Birthday!

And boy, are you in for a surprise! Mmm hmm!

You’re 23, so you’re getting closer to 25, which is closer to 30, which is closer to 50…and then closer to, you know…passing.

But you’re in your 20’s still, so Happy Birthday! You’re older!…Than me…I’m only 22 still, so…whatever.

Call me back!

There Will Be A Lot Of Guitar Hero Come 5 pm

August 3, 2007

I have nothing to say right now other than thank the baby Jesus it’s Friday.

Also, a hooker tried to pick me up last night, and even though I know I shouldn’t feel this way, I am a lot more confidence about myself now. Thanks for the ego boost, whore. Appreciated.

Normally I’m Cute As A Box Of Babies

August 2, 2007

You know when someone takes a picture of you, and it turns out to be nothing more than the visual equivalent to the wailing of a thousand angry cats on a floor made of chalk board?

It’s bad enough that there is physical proof that your face could contort itself in such horrifically shaped ways as to make Picasso say ‘Oooo no, too much’. But when someone else has that picture, it makes you think that on bad days, they take it out to feel better about themselves.

Well. I only wish I was in that situation. Because really? It would be a lot better than being the face of Syracuse University’s Office of Disability Services.

There’s nothing better than going out for jog in 95 degree weather, turning up to a summer RA staff meeting in the 11th floor of a limited windowed non-air conditioned room, and having your picture taken in the midst of transforming into an albino.

Awesome. I’m the poster boy for disability services. Is there really any point in striving towards anything else? I think not.

Make Sure To Floss Afterwards

August 1, 2007

I don’t know that this is such a great offer, as we all know the market price right now for a good, thick cut is sky high.

Thanks to Amy for the link.