Tuesday, October 31, 2006
- a little sister
- a little sister to be born on Halloween
I thought having a little sister born on Halloween would be the absolute COOLEST! Turns out I got my wish of a little sister, but she missed the 31st by a couple of days. So, she was no Halloween Baby, but she was and is the absolute coolest. Doodle agrees.
Be careful tonight, kids! Remember, this is NYC and as the saying goes, you don't know if that man you bump into with the monkey mask on the subway is en route to the parade or about to steal your wallet at gunpoint. We'll be here fighting the real scary shit, the prospect of bed bugs.
Sure, you've got yourself a rainbow wig for Halloween. But what if you get lucky? What if someone's gonna see your Junk Show? You're going to need a rainbow wig for downstairs, too, ain't ya? Betty Beauty to the rescue! Covers naturally, covers gray.
Doodle may be smart as a whip, but she doesn't recognize her reflection in the mirror. If she runs by one, and it catches her by surprise, sometimes she'll do that "Sideways Puffed Out Halloween Cat" thing, but she never believes it is her. She looks beyond it. I'd say unphased is a good description of how she reacts.
But elephants, elephants are amazing. Not only do they recognize their own reflections, but they can paint SELF PORTRAITS! All these years being butchered for their ivory and abused in the circus, well, to be intelligent and aware is a terrifying burden. Just ask me. Or, a pig, a future bacon strip. They know that single-file line to the slaughter house is a one-way trip. That's why they run in the other direction. Ahhh, to be as dim as a sheep. Ignorance is bliss indeed...
Looks like we got ourselves a new Andrew McCarthy for Mannequin III. Why did the guy not go out and buy himself his own mannequin so he's not charged for breaking and entering in search of the perfect plastic woman? Casual Corner was selling at least 50 of 'em in March during their Going Out of Business Sale. The guy could have had an entire harem of resin beauties for his enjoyment, whatever that may consist of (quite sure I don't need to know the details, though I I'm not saying I'm not a wee bit curious)...
Monday, October 30, 2006
Ten's World-Class Cabaret (for those unlucky ones not to be in the know) is a place where scantily clad broads take off their scanty clothes and dance around all sexy-like for money from gross guys.
"There are some uglies too, but most girls are good" says club reviewer Knuckles21.
Phew! Now that's good to know! Thanks, Knuckles!
Did you all enjoy your extra hour of sleep on Sunday? Anyone misjudge the time because you forgot to change that microwave clock? I'm not a huge fan of the procedure, though I do like the extra hour. (and Spring Forward really bites). I prefer it to be dark in the morning rather than dark in the evening. When the sun goes down before 5 p.m., it seems like ten p.m. and I don't feel like doing a damn thing.
Sunday, October 29, 2006
I took your name change thing in stride. I've respected your music and your new names and have referred to you properly each time you've changed them. So, please do me a favor, and don't penalize me for watching football.
Your Ford "This is Our Country" ad is as annoying and tenacious as a bed bug, working it's itchy way into my brain with every repetition. It is quite cruel and unusual punishment for someone who loves sports. It's bad enough that it's played at every commercial break during the NFL, that you played it live during the World Series, but the 9/11 Red Neck imagery is weird. I thought you were against Bush's War, so what are you trying to say? Your ad is quite contradictory. Did Ford dupe you? I think they did. I think you need to send the money back. And get this fuckin' ad off the air to save my sanity. It's not saving our country. Can we just stick to Jack and Diane? Great.
*piece of work
Well, not really. But sort of. Escape from my apartment for the weekend, anyway. My mother came to town to visit my aunt and we stayed in an amazing Affinia hotel suite around the corner from my place which is not only people friendly but pet friendly too. Guess who had a little vacation too? Miss Doodle, of course, and she loved it. You should have seen the concierge's face when he learned that we only needed a food bowl, not a litter pan. (proud smile) See her above, lounging in the glass-topped wardrobe? The striated wood veneer matches the her coat quite nicely. She didn't have to see the inside of the gross hospital, but she missed out on some fine dining uptown. Namely Iztoteca (Mexican with French accents) and the Spanish-influenced Don Pedro's.
Friday, October 27, 2006
WOULD YOU LOOK AT THIS? ? ?
I came home tonight to find this wonderful gift from my fine, fine friends at my old job, the back supporters who miss me, not the back stabbers who dissed me. I am so lucky to have such wonderful friends.
Thank you, friends!
Anne and Doodle
Thursday, October 26, 2006
A 700 mile fence? IDIOT! HAVE A LOOK AT HISTORY, JACKASS: How well did the Great Wall of China do? Second, where are we going to get it, Home Depot? Ikea?
Third, who the hell are we going to get to take it out of the box and assemble it? Americans? Laughable! Everyone knows that to build something of quality, something good, we need slave labor! That's why everything is a piece of shit nowadays. Go have a look at Grand Central Terminal. Have we built something of that kind of quality in awhile? The Great Wall was as good as it gets, and still proved a bust. They didn't even finish it before the enemy was shooting stuff over it. If you build it, they will come.
A nice 2004 Bordeaux. Doodle agrees that it also compliments her Chicken n' Giblets Feast.
Olive Garden has spent some big bucks to advertise during the World Series. The ads make me long to be hanging with my 6 best girlfriends having the best time at Chez Garden while we laugh it up and animatedly enjoy various dishes with only one rule: That everyone orders something different! Yes! So we can all sample everyone else's E-coli /salmonella sauce and have a hard time tracing the source. 86 the Chicken Parm! Or is it the All-You-Can-Eat Pasta Bowl?
She sounds like a jerk. "Impoverished women will be seduced by big checks..."What? What??? What????? These are the same people who would have no problem with sperm donation, or in-vitro fertilization, or would not turn down a drug invented by science that could save one of their precious children should one of them get sick. They use science on a daily basis. How about all those tests and state-of-the-art Hollywood pre-natal care that Patricia had while she was pregnant with her 25 kids? You think she would have had any of those things without a little thing called science? Is she going to tell me that she's not on any kind of medication ever, and that Jeff Suppan doesn't know anything about performance enhancing drugs being in a sport like baseball?
To be clear: It's about hypocrisy. I don't have a problem with people who have a problem with science provided they don't take advantage of the benefits of science themselves. You can't cherry pick on issues like this or it blows your argument right out of the water. You don't pay taxes because you hate the U.S.? Then move back to your own shit ass country if this place bites so bad. If you're PETA activist, then don't wear leather. I had a friend in college who lambasted me for eating breakfast before I went to Catholic Mass with her one Sunday. "You're not supposed to eat before you see the Lord and eat the body of Christ" or some shit like that. I was like, "Does the Lord know you're not married and that you banged your boyfriend last night?" Get the fuck out of my face. She turned out to be a lesbian, so you can see why she was drinking so much Haterade at the time.
Look. I don't like Lladro collectibles and Hummel figurines and all that bullshit. They give me hives. But I don't go burning down the places that sell them. If people want to have that crap in their houses, let them have that crap in their houses. I don't understand why people don't have tolerance for other people and their quest for learning as in science or cluttering as in Hummels.
I hope now that Everybody Hates Debra. If not, then love her. Who am I to force my beliefs on you?
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
EEEEEEeeeeeeeeeew. We should not be exposed to former child actors exposing themselves. I don't give a shit how good of an actor he is or that it's "tasteful" because it's onstage. It's pedophilia-ish-y. Pedophiliac? How about gross? Gross works.
"Once upon a time, you're going to die. If you're not a wealthy white American male you'll die even sooner. So, sleep tight."
"I will 'bigly and hugely' admit I was wrong" ???
You can say that again, you big huge moron.
Why you didn't call me?
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
Question: Without re-instating the draft, where are we going to get these poor kids?
Unless the administration plans on shooting brand new soldiers out of their bungers, or they create a cloning lab dedicated to this mess, I really don't know where they're going to get more soldiers. It's like feeding an insatiable monster of death. I know I'm not interested in enlisting in Bush's War. I was never for it. I don't like guns, and I have flat feet. Plus, I'm not good at climbing ropes and stuff. Bush is such a douchebag.
Campbell's Tomato Soup with Pepperidge Farm Goldfish Preztels Garnish. I tell you what, kids, since unemployment has bestowed it's grace on me, I'm just dreaming up all kinds of exotic new ideas in the Two Can Anne Kitchen, and I'm so happy to share them with you.
1) Empty one can of Campbell's Tomato Soup into microwave-safe bowl. Add one can of water. Stir. Microwave covered 2.5-3.0 minutes. Let sit for a minute. Stir. Pour into soup bowl or coffee cup. Garnish with Pepperidge Farm Pretzel Goldfish. Makes two small servings for a regular old person, or one drop in the bucket for a fatty bumbalatty.2) Eat.
4) Watch Doodle sit by her food bowl thinking you're feeding her because the cabinet up top makes the same sound as the cabinet below where you usually keep her canned food, and what she doesn't know is that you're out of canned food so the dry is going to have to do. Throw a couple of goldfish pretzels in her bowl. No interest. Eventually she'll walk away. It just takes a little time. Be patient.
Monday, October 23, 2006
Apparently there are three parts to every trick. The Pledge, where the magician shows the audience something ordinary (but no doubt really isn't). Then, the Turn, where he makes his ordinary thing do something extraordinary. And finally, the Prestige, where he uses twists and turns to show you something you've never seen before. And I say "he" because let's face it, most magicians are nerdy dudes. A look at the audience last night was confirmation enough for me.
A peek inside of the early days of on stage magic was interesting and the period costume was depicted well, but the story was a little difficult to follow (especially near the end), and the movie was at least a half an hour too long. My rating? Half a Can (out of a possible Two Cans). At any rate, the characters kept referring to "the trick" and "stealing tricks" and "secret of the trick" and it all reminded me of a little story. Wanna hear it? Of course you do. So settle down, and listen up. It'll be more interesting than The Prestige and take a lot less time to tell.
Years ago when I was bartending and looking for work, I stopped into a place now formerly known as The Village Idiot. Really classy joint. Ok, no, not at all. Not even close. On West 14th Street, the Idiot was a crassier Coyote Ugly. A haven for construction workers by day and by night just the place for anyone who wanted to get loaded didn't mind dirty glasses or their feet sticking to the floor. I went in after reading in their ad in Craig's List about an open call for a bartending position. Females Only, the ad read. Did I actually think I could envision myself working at a place like that? I didn't know. I really didn't think about it too much. I needed a job, so I checked it out.
I walked in on the designated afternoon which happened to be a sticky and humid day. The place smelled of stale beer. My friend Brandy would say it smelled like "an asshole fucked an arm pit."Country music blared from the juke box, the air conditioner did not exist, and the place was packed with waiting applicants andIrish construction guys getting their fill of beer and attention from the bartender. I sat down next next to one such fellow who bought me a beer while I waited to interview.
So you're here for an audition, he said. An audition? I think to myself. Seconds later the guys start tapping on their beer glasses and the bartender, or bar wench, if you will--a petite broad with big cans and a rough face--poured a pint glass of water over her head, drenching her wife beater and those big cans of hers for all to see. Tips abound.
Now I'm freaking out.
"Do you know any tricks?" the construction guy asks me.
"Tricks?" I ask.
"Yeah, you know, tricks."
"Well, if you mean tricks like pouring a pint glass of water over my head when people clink their glasses for a self-induced wet t-shirt contest, not really. I'm not that kind of gal."
"Not really, no."
"Lisa! Come here!" he tells the soaking wet bartender. "Show her your trick!"
I shrug. She walks over.
"You're not going to steal my trick, are you?" she asks.
"No. Of course not," I reply. Terrified.
"Ok, then," she said. With that, she took from around her neck a shoelace with a large flat stainless steel bottle opener attached at the end. She grabbed the non-opener end of the laniard in one hand like a whip, slightly squatted in her tight jeans, and swung the string between her legs from the frontal cooch area to the back, so that the bottle opener gained some speed on it's way through and up just enough to smack her on her own ass. Again. And again. And again.
Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth went the bottle opener between her legs and landing with a smack on the ass. Everyone cheered and waved dollar bills. I smiled weakly.
After her last swing with the rope she put it back around her neck, looked at me sternly, leaned in and said, "DON'T STEAL MY TRICK."
I didn't. After all, it was her Prestige.
Sunday, October 22, 2006
Sure, it's no leg lamp in red pumps and fishnet stockings. Or a bowling alley like we had hoped. Nonetheless, people, it's a major award. Ralphie was psyched. He stroked it.
A MAJOR AWARD, I say!
Two Can Anne has been voted "Bestest Blog of the Day" by The Bestest Blog of All Time! Just ask Morgen from It's a Blog Eat Blog World!
What the hell does this mean? How the hell should I know. But can it be bad? It's a friggin' major award! I'm having a friggin' bitch ass week. This can't be bad.
Unless it can. This is entirely plausible. And then what. Well, we'll deal with that situation when come to it. Right now we're dealing with other crap. Let's enjoy this lovely surprise, thanks to everyone who reads my caca doody everyday. Or whomever is responsible for bestowing this major award on me. Morgen even gives props to the real superstar at Two Can Anne, and that is of course, Doodle. take a look at that sweet little thing with the red flowers in her hair*.
*She's pissed, by the way. A tom boy (or tom cat, I suppose) to the 10th degree, and I pimped her out in some pussy barettes with red flowers. Completely. Humiliated. Like I care.
Saturday, October 21, 2006
Here we go again. Not sure why another person would claim the old "Hey, there's a finger in m' fast food!" trick, considering the last broad who did it with the Wendy's chili was sentenced to prison for twelve years, but what else do you expect from someone from a place called Chowchilla? Puhhhlease.
Friday, October 20, 2006
Thursday, October 19, 2006
Anne and Doodle
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
I'm a PBS nerd because of stories like this. In 1903, on a $50 bet, Dr. Horatio Nelson Jackson, a Vermont doctor, set off in his Winton Touring Car (affectionately called The Vermonter) on the very first automobile trip across the United States. Along with him were his mechanic Sewell Crocker and his dog, Bud. It took him 63 days and cost him $8,000. Ken Burns' documentary, Horatio's Drive, does a great job in showing exactly how daunting this task was. Here's another great link with more information. Bud rules. So does Vermont. Oh, and cars are cool, I guess.
But it's got loads of embarrassing risk associated with it. Wesley, Wesley, Wesley. Yes, work bites. And "free" money is easier. But couldn't you have done some embarrassing overseas commercials instead?
P.S. Nice armpit
Monday, October 16, 2006
If I had a penny for every time I read "I work hard and I play hard" on an online dating profile...well, let's just say that I'd be able to afford name brand yogurt, shall we? How about handles like "debonair_iam?" You don't find those everyday, do you? Oh, that's right, yes you do. Here are the latest crop of dudes cruising me on the internet dating super highway. Vote for your favorite!
This guy says: "Laughter is my biggest character."
Um, actually? I think your 'stache is your biggest "character." And possibly your orange yellow rugby which in addition, I don't think you're sporting ironically.
Hey, guy, I ordered "hot guy" not "hot wings," ok? Great.
No words for this. Not even the 12 I expended just now.
Well, I do. I saw a PBS documentary on her life last night, and indeed, Eleanor Roosevelt was remarkable. She was born into bucks but had a crappy childhood because her father was a drunk and both her parents died when she was young. She was smart, tall, toothy, awkward and anything but a complacent society woman which was what was expected of her. Instead, Eleanor threw herself into social work and making the world a better place. It goes without saying, even though I'll say it: Without her eyes, ears, and legs, FDR wouldn't have had a chance at the presidency.
One of my favorite quotes happens to be by Eleanor Roosevelt:
"Do one thing every day that scares you."
And today that thing is: Clean the fridge.
Sunday, October 15, 2006
So, to summarize: They're ugly*, rude, selfish, and completely friggin' dirty, because they're constantly vacuuming. I swear they must have a steady stream of sawdust shooting out of their butt holes or something. Like a family of mobile wood chippers with huge honkin' feet and motor skill dysfunction. Compassion? Nope, you're not going to find it here, people. Not here. Not today.
I've decided a wake up call is in order. What would be more annoying to you, being awoken at 3:30 a.m. or 4:30 a.m.? Or both? Just curious. I have an alarm to set.
*Not relevant to this argument, but true all the same
Anyway, I did my nails last night so I'd look polished. Get it?And did I ever! Long story short: the meeting was pleasant and not annoying. The woman was nice, and I actually don't have a bad thing to say about her. Rare, rare, rare indeed. Clearly I must have looked smokin' hot--even for that early in the morning-- because a guy came in with his paper and checked the shit out of me every time he took a sip of his coffee. I see you, guy. Take it ease'. Keep staring like that and I'm gonna have to charge you. Prude Dude apparently has a fellow in mind for me, some guy who is (on paper, anyway) very successful and wealthy enough to afford the thousands of dollars that this place charges. I'm picturing a balding midget in his late thirties with a private plane. That's fine, I guess. The midget part, anyway. I'm not getting in any planes. No thanks, John Denver, JFK Jr., Cory Lidle, et al. I'm good. You go fly your paper airplanes by yourself. Just make sure to put me in your will before you take off from Teterborough. Thanks. Bye. At any rate, the date should make for good copy. Stay tuned.
The least awesome part of the day has been the Tard Parade upstairs. The kid has been bouncing off of the walls and floors and ceiling since 2:30. It's now 6:45, and I not only hear him but also his bitch ass Yeti mother--someone easily 6' 7" in flats-- who uses every inch of the size 15 surf boards that are her feet when she clod hops around up there. I feel as if I've been babysitting them all day for free and I can't go home because they live with me. It's the stuff of friggin' nightmares. I already rang their doorbell once. The old Ring and Run Technique which is passive aggressive for : Shut the f*ck up already a-holes or take it outside. If that isn't passive aggressive enough, I may have to resort to boogers on the door knob or something.