Monday, August 30, 2010

I Can't Figure Out if You're a Huge Tool or Douche...Wait, You're Both...

I have been putting off my post about douchey license plates but driving to work today galvanized my conviction. I can no longer keep quiet about drivers who think they’re awesome, cute or funny but are really douche-shaped tools.


Dear DECEIVE,

Your Mercedes is kind of awesome (although it’s over a decade old and white) but I am more confused by what you’re trying to convey here with your personalized plate. The word “deceive” isn’t good, no not at all. Not when taking someone out on a first date, not on a job interview at the bank you just applied to, and definitely not when you are picking up your elementary-school-age kids.

To your credit though, you show the world the “i before e except after c” rule.

Dear GOTYAIO,

I had to look up yaio and when I did, I was quite shocked…

Wikipedia says: Yaoi also known as "Boys' Love", is a popular Japanese term for female-oriented fictional media that focus on homoerotic or homoromantic male relationships. It often has scenes of rape and "older" yaoi frequently is described as misogynistic. Super! (that's my commentary, not Wikipedia's).

WHY WOULD YOU PUT THAT ON YOUR CAR? Why would you put that on your car and then drive it to work everyday? All I can imagine is you taking your coworkers out to lunch and then describing Yaoi to them. Yikes-oi! And to answer your question, I don't have any yaoi.

Dear RNMKER and ESQUIRE,

You have nice rides, good for you. I am assuming RNMKER that you are a lawyer or some sort of “Boiler Room” stockbroker but either way, could you be any more douchey? I picture a coked-out Ben Affleck driving this car whenever I see it. Why do you feel the need to advertise that you bring in/close deals ON YOUR CAR? Life isn’t actually “Glengary Glen Ross” though I am sure you’ve memorized Baldwin’s opening monologue…Which brings me to you, ESQUIRE. All I can do is shake my head. If you put “Esq.” after your name, you’re a tool. And trust me I know plenty of successful attorneys who feel the same way. Try HMBLE or HELPFL if you’re trying to make an impression that doesn’t make people want to punch you right in your balls (or ovaries). I don’t discriminate.

Another idea: Instead of paying the extra money per year to self-aggrandize on your vehicle, why don’t you donate to charity? After all, it’s just a car and you’re just a douche. Find another measure of success.

Friday, August 27, 2010

My Shower Should Have Been Great...

You know when you go to get in the shower in the morning and you look down to step in but you’re sleepy so it takes you a while to realize that the dark thing in there is a spider and you’re all “Aaaaah, a spider” but then you realize you have the advantage so you’re like “ha ha, I got you now spider” and you reach for the nozzle and then you start spraying at it but you can’t quite hit it directly then little waves of water start lapping over to its body and every time it stumbles you’re like “come on, spider, don’t fight it-I don't have all day” and then it falls and you’re so happy but then it starts scrambling, and balling up in a defensive pose and you’re like “oh my god, I am so mean for doing this” and you can tell the spider is looking up at you and you have a moment where the spider’s all “what the hell lady, you can’t just go get a cup and get me out of here?” and you’re like “I guess you shouldn’t trespass” and he’s like “yeah but now I am going to die so that’s not helpful” and you are thinking “what am I doing? hurry up!” so you spray the nozzle directly at him in a last act of mercy and he finally gives up and goes down the drain… so you step in and think about how things could have gone differently for you and the spider so you don’t really enjoy your guilt shower and then you go to dry off and think “what if there is a spider on my towel?” but then you're all “that’s really unlikely” and put the towel to your face and then look over at the toilet and see toilet paper in it and think your fiance’s disgusting for not flushing so you flush it and see a small dark thing in there and realize that’s the spider he killed last night. That was my morning.

Thursday, August 26, 2010

Not the money-making scheme my fiance had in mind...


But your sig other might want to - I won't judge.

Your friendships might be based on open honesty, mine are based on dirty, rotten lies

Earlier today, a great friend of five years texted me to ask if I have a gmail account; a mutual connection had been using it.

GF: Do you have a gmail acct? I just was cc’d on an email sent to (my email).

Me: Yep! That's my email address - I just got the email about 10 mins ago.

GF: I feel like I don’t know you…why didn’t I know about this email address? Why are you keeping secrets from me?

Me: Ha ha, I use it for biz purposes; for web company, resume, LinkedIn, etc.

GF: Okay I just want to be honest with each other.

Me: That is important.

GF: Well, I should tell you that I have another email too…it’s beurhoe@gmail...I use it for porn, eHarmony and also some new business ventures…I am glad it’s out in the open.

Me: Awesome. I am blogging that.

GF: Yessssss….

Monday, August 23, 2010

Stud, Roxie and Beans (a.k.a. Garfield, Odie and Nermal)

Recently I got to dog sit for a friend of mine. Although dogs are not allowed in my building, I snuck her in and out and kept her there for three and a half days of doggy-fun-time. Despite my best efforts, I am sure management was on to me but turned the other cheek; they just might be tired of dealing with me…

Bringing the dog in was fun but I was a little worried about my cats at first (for the dog). The dog only weighed 12 pounds and Stud could easily trounce her with his whopping 17 lb. body; even the little girl cat weighs 11 lbs. I was really afraid of an unfortunate situation occuring...

Matt, however, was very calm.

Me: Are you sure we should leave them all alone together?
Matt: Yeah, why not?
Me: What if Stud tries to kill her?
Matt: Um, they’re on the couch together, honey. I think it’ll be okay.
Me: What if Stud is waiting until we leave and then he slices her belly open and eats her intestines?
Matt: What is wrong with you?
Me: Paranoid and imaginative?
Matt: Yeah, I think so.

On the whole, Stud is a very smart cat. My other cat, Beans…well, I tell her all the time it’s a good thing she’s pretty. Shih tzus are not known for their brains or trainability (sorry shih tzus...you're not), but whatever this little one might be lacking in that area she makes up by being incredibly sweet and fun. So basically what we had going all weekend was a Garfield-Odie-Nermal dynamic. Except Beans is actually a girl cat, not an incredibly effeminate male kitten.

For instance, I was sitting on the floor trying to put the dog to bed in her crate. Matt was watching me trying to coax Roxie, and Stud (I didn’t know this) was on the table above where her crate sat, watching....waiting.

Me: Come on, Roxie. Come on, Roxie. (I am kneeling on the floor like an idiot waving her in. She is sitting staring at me, blankly.)
Matt: Honey, Roxie really doesn’t want to go in there for some reason...
Me: Yes she does, you're just scaring her by standing behind her...BOOM!

Stud flung himself off the table onto the crate, which turned into crate carnage as it is collapsible. He obliterated that thing; like dropping a bowling ball on it, obliterated.

Me: He just tried to kill her!!! Can you imagine if she had gone in there?
Matt: : He didn't know it would collapse. Look at him!
Me: I think I know my cat better than you do, Matt. (To Stud): I'm watching you, buddy!

Stud slinked away as if he hadn't meant to do that.

By the close of the weekend, dog and cat alike were living in harmony. I would describe it as: “Similar to when the lion lay down with the lamb…but way better.”


Friday, August 20, 2010

Let's Crack Open a Secret of the Universe: Birthday + Retrievers = ???

I have been putting off blogging because I haven’t felt creative, but sometimes you just gotta sit down and do your shit! Final product be damned!


When I was 8, my mom took me to Marine World for my birthday. We were going to see Yaka and Vigga and the sea lions – I was so excited. I wore a side pony and aqua sweater, white shorts and Keds and I had a button with a rainbow and smiling sun on it that read, “It’s my birthday”. This was it.

I had one of the best days of my short life. People looked at me adoringly and said, “Happy birthday” everywhere I went. And later, it was either the side pony or my button that afforded me the opportunity to pet a sea lion during the pinniped show (it was rubbery with fine, sparse hair and very wet). Being chosen from the sea of screaming children for this ultimate prize was fantastic. I was a true winner that day.

When we returned to my cousin’s house to drop her off after my birthday fun-day, I saw a golden retriever attempting to jump into a woman’s car. The problem was, she was clearly not the dog’s owner, and she was at a stop sign. The dog was practically crawling up the side of her brown Datsun, probably just to lick her face. She was terrified which baffled me. I was only 8 but remember thinking “Why is that lady so afraid of a golden retriever?”

My mom got out of our 1984 Chevy Blazer to assist the dog. After a while, we learned from a neighbor that he had spent the night in a swimming pool with his paws up on the edge, hanging there for dear life. We took him home that day, named him Jake, and he was the best dog (my forever dog) for 11 long years.

On my 18th birthday, I was driving around late at night like a kook and I saw a black shape running up the street. I pulled up to it and yelled “Hey!” out the window. The black lab just looked at me, wagging his tail. I reached over and opened up the back door and said, “Come on, get in here”. He jumped right into the back seat as if we were supposed to meet right there. I had Jett for only a couple of days then surrendered him to the pound; his owner came to get him (I checked) and I think I saw him again in my neighborhood one year later. His real name was Jake.

This year on my birthday, I was resting outside of the mud baths and a yellow lab went trotting by. I looked around for an owner, but no one showed so I said, “Hey, you!” The dog turned to me, dropped his head, wagged his tail and came over to say hello. I checked his collar, and he was from the next town over, almost 10 miles away. My fianc√© and I tied him up with a belt and called the number on his collar. Bodie was returned home safely after his adventure.

So I ask you: what the hell is up with me rescuing dogs on my birthday? I am not complaining, I just want some sort of explanation (metaphysical or otherwise). And they’re not just dogs, they’re all retrievers. In all fairness, I have a habit of rescuing lost dogs, but not like this.

Here are some explanations that have been proposed to me, take a vote or add your own!

1. The Universe is telling you to start a Retriever/Lab Rescue
2. It doesn’t mean anything, it’s just coincidence
3. Leave other people’s pets alone
4. Other (Requires you to come up with a proposal)

P.S. I think it's pretty easy to comment and I haven't figured out the poll feature yet so let's do this the old-fashioned way: comment with the number of your choice.

Friday, August 13, 2010

Match.com Translation

Honestly, who doesn’t love Match.com? It’s especially fun if you’re a young and attractive lady. Here’s a message sent to a person I know:


“Greetings…ok so first off im not from Boring, OR. i just thought it was funny that its an actual city and since its so hard to be different on here i thought maybe that would catch someones eye lol poor attempt at humor I guess. so anyway unlike most guys i actually read your profile shocking i know. And not only are you absolutly stunning, which im sure you get 50 times a day but one of your interests is cooking which is huge since cooking is one of my new addictions even though i think my friends lie when i ask if they like my dinners :) btw your hair is amazing, please don't think I'm a weirdo hair is the first thing I notice on a girl. Not boobs or butt, I like hair lol well have a great Monday and hope to hear back from you. Btw are you ever in the San Jose area? Your not very far from me ;)”

Translation:

Hi, I am kind of awkward and so I am going to make an ironic attempt at humor to introduce myself. Also, I don’t use any capitals when I type or proper punctuation. And, I have bad syntax. i hope that’s ok. I am a little boring (which is why I subconsciously chose “Boring, OR” even though I live in Northern California) so forgive me for that but I obviously like what you like…like cooking! Although, I am not good at it so maybe I don’t like it that much. Oh crap, you can probably tell I am just saying that; um maybe you can cook for me some time? But I must say cooking is a “new” addiction, unlike that hair-doll-making addiction that I am trying to kick. I don’t want you to think this is weird, even though it is but I like your hair A LOT…in a creepy fetish kind-of way. Not weird, right? Okay, fine but at least I won’t objectify you by commenting on boobs or breasts...just your hair. Are you buying it? I hope to hear back from you semicolon parenthesis.

Here’s a little “wink” to all my blog fans ;)

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

On my bday, I got mud butt!

If you know me personally, you will probably know that I went to the mineral water mud baths in Calistoga for my b-day. If you don’t know me personally, you wouldn’t know that unless you’re a really good stalker.

The mud bath surprise was borne of my reply to Fianc√© about what I wanted for my b-day. I am aloof and really un-helpful when it comes to answering such questions. If I do know what I want, it’s usually jeans or bras and underwear (things I don’t like buying for myself) which has put him in the awkward situation of rummaging through my clothing drawers for sizes and then having to explain himself to salespeople. And then I usually take the stuff back.

In an attempt to break this chain this year I said I wanted a “day trip or something surprising like that” because I am way more into experiences than “things and stuff”. He did well, very well indeed.

He’s so tricksy, that man. He took me to Calistoga (like the water) and I didn’t know what we were in for until we pulled into the mud spa place.

We entered the steamy, sulfurous building and a man with a finely-trimmed moustache asked for our names. I let fiance answer and began my recon. I always check out what is on counters because you can learn a lot about places and people by looking around on desks and things. It went something like this:

Brochure, more brochures, business cards, sticky pad, filthy dirty pen, weird lotion, more brochures, muffins… Whaaaat? Muffins! Muffins for Sale! Muffins for sale for $1.50?!?!

Now, with the smell of minerals, peat moss and stranger sweat, the plastic-wrapped muffins didn’t sound so great, but I guess they gave a homey feel, kind of comforting I suppose. I sweetly smiled at moustache guy and asked, “So what’s the mud like?" He had a soft, feathery voice, “Oh our mud is wonderful. The consistency is beautiful; it’s soft and delicate...it’s really just like floating in the womb.”

I said, “Wow, you have a really good memory.” He stared. I blushed, then turned to the muffins. They were comforting. “Um, how much are these muffins?”

“They’re $1.50” Great, now I was having a Clerks moment.

We left Moustache and headed to the mud room. Tell yah what – mud is gross. I like the idea of mud and in fact I have idealized mud to some extent throughout my life. “Oh, remember the days when I used to play in the mud, make mud pies, mud between your toes?” Well, that was then and mud is GR-OSS.

But, I gotta give it to him. It was like a womb. A hot, mushy, dirty womb.

I drew you a cartoon mashup of my birthday. You're welcome.


Monday, August 9, 2010

Every Day I Walk Into....

Every day I walk up to this door on my way into work and marvel at the time someone took to make this look its best:



It's kind of like the time I took to make sure my hand/Blackberry weren't in the photo...

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

Music and Leer Icks

I wasn’t perpetually unpopular, but I did have this pathetic infatuation with the super-popular girls at my middle school. I went to a private school in an affluent area so there were some baseball player’s kids, some Euro-trash kids, etc. To compensate for my simple life, I would make up stories to impress them which never ever worked. I even went so far as to read poems I stole from a book and claimed they were mine. It was a Little Golden Book simply titled “Dogs” and contained short poems describing breed-specific characteristics with accompanying illustrations. The Great Dane is a gentle giant, Collies are protective, Labradors are fun, etc.


The night before Show and Tell, I copied the poems down furiously onto ruled paper. I was mad with excitement over my plan and thought, “These are so good and they’re going to think I wrote them!” I scribbled faster and faster, stopping only to brush my hair out of my face and turn the page. I went to bed that night fantasizing about how much praise I would receive.

It wasn’t until half-way through my recitation I had the suspicion that someone might realize that these poems were above my skill level, although my kind-hearted teacher didn’t call me out. In hindsight, it wasn’t a very crafty sham. After all, what 3nd-grader uses the word “keen”?

One boy said matter-of-factly, “I know you didn’t write those.” Without faltering I replied, “Oh, yes, I did,” looking him straight in the eyes. I was confident, but oddly offended. How dare he think I didn’t write those! What kind of loser did he think I was?

Fortunately, this behavior stopped and I didn’t turn into that kid who lies about everything (come on, you knew one or two), but I didn’t let go of my need to impress.

Do you remember this album?














Of course you do, it was super-hot in 1986. In that year, I was still in the single digits but I heard “How Will I Know” over and over again. I used to sing it to myself, to my mom and to my dogs. I loved this tune; it was my jam. It was the perfect song in my mind until one thing happened… When Whitney sings, “How will I know if he really loves me? / I say a prayer with every heartbeat,” for some reason I thought she said “…with every pu-ppy. Yeah, puppy…I say a prayer with every puppy. I used to sing to my dogs; is it so weird that I thought Whitney might be praying for love with puppies?

It was a tragic day when I joined into a crowd of the more popular girls rehearsing for the talent show. I was thinking, “Oh my God, I LOVE this song” and then belted out puppy instead of heartbeat. Stunned silence.

“Oh my God, did you just say puppy?”

I believe my response at that time was to run away crying.

I still have that book and will post poems from it in later blogs. But, I will have you know that the puppy Whitney said her prayers with over that boy was a dachshund puppy, a very keen breed indeed.

Monday, August 2, 2010

Cheeseburger cookies?

I surf the web a lot...it's just something I do. Anyway, on three or four totally unrelated sites I have seen this ad:

Obviously, it's from Groupon which I have no interest in at the moment except for that these look like Cheeseburger Cookies and I want one! Let me specify, I don't want to eat an actual Cheeseburger-flavored cookie, but I would like to partake of these seemingly cheeseburger-shaped cookies.

They look so light and fluffy! It's driving me insane because I can't tell if that's frosting or fake lettuce...

Wait, are they just pastel-colored cheeseburgers? Why would anyone do that?

Irregardless (yes, I mean "irregardless" because I want to emphasize just how little regard I have), I want to eat these things! What are they?

I can't think of anything else that makes me want cheeseburgers and cookies as much as the other all at the same time!