july 2006
Bearing gifts we traverse afar,
Field and fountain, moor and mountain,
Oh star of wonder, star of light
Refrain:
O star of wonder, star of night,
star with royal beauty bright;
westward leading, still proceeding,
guide us back there because it's fuckin' hot here!
Do I love honesty? Yes!
Travel? Yes!
Family? Yes!
Romance? No.
Women? Love romance? Please! That is fuckin' absurd.
Shit, and we were getting along so well. We had so much in common until the romance thing but...
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We've had a lovely woman from Japan working in our office the past few weeks on some sort of "exchange program" with her office or whatnot. Anyway, we're immersing her in American culture. I just gave her a mini Reese's peanut butter cup, the first in her life.
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I love how they throw "you have to put the castle together" right in the middle of the commercial so quickly--while you're still absorbed with the drama of the impending fight over the "power of the castle" between He-man and Beastman-- so you don't even realize it.
Until, that is, you get your Castle Grayskull for Christmas and it's a box of 1,000 gray pieces with no action figures because they are sold seperately. And unfortunately, the Dad is sold seperately too, so you're putting that shit together by yourself.
Watch this commercial and dozens of other classics here.
Compliments of Casual Slack. Sidebar! Check it! Hyperlinky no worky!
He replied with one of the only WRONG answers:
"Well, I guess we both throw a twenty in and split the change."
MY GOOD GOD!
I'm not even worth chicken salad on toast? Jesus, I had really checked out of the date at this point. Sour look on the face and everything. We wait for change.
And we wait.
And we wait.
The waitress finally returns but instead of bringing us two fives, she brought a ten. The look on his face was priceless panic. There was poo in his pants he was shitting them so hard. He actually looked for the waitress again, to get more change, but at this point, she was back up at the bar doing a crossword puzzle. I grabbed my bag. My freedom was worth $5.
Suddenly, he grabs the ten dollar bill. He tells me to hold the other end of it over the table while he holds the other end. So if you can picture this correctly, we each have an end of it, as if it were a wishbone or whatever.
He says, "Ok, close your eyes."
"What?"
"Close your eyes."
Of course, I only close one, because I'm quite sure he's about to abscond with the ten.
"Ok, now make a wish," he says.
Then he starts tugging on the bill.
I open my eyes.
"What the hell are you doing?" I ask.
"Oh, I don't know. Listen, um..." and he looks at the bill, he looks at me, he looks at the bill, he looks at me, he looks at the bill. Then at me.
"Go on, you, um...you ....um...you can have it. Take it."
AS IF HE WAS GIVING ME TEN THOUSAND DOLLARS.
As if he was giving me ten dollars, actually, but HE WAS ONLY GIVING ME FIVE DOLLARS!
Cheap bastard.
"Thanks. Thanks so much," I said.
Finally, we left. On the corner, I almost said, "Thank you for lunch," when I realized I bought my own fucking lunch. So I said, "They make a good chicken salad over there, don't they?"
Then he said, "So, where do you prefer to receive calls, at home or on your cell?" and I'm thinking, it doesnt much matter, cheap-ass, because I'm screeing your call no matter what.
Then I ran home to email him "Thanks but no thanks." And my email must have crossed his in the mail which said that he thought the date was great and would love to see me again.
Ah, well.
Fast forward 6 more dates. I swore I'd never go on another, but I had gotten back on the awkward horse with a better attitude, and this time I was just meeting men for one drink. If no spark, then Basta! One night I agreed to meet this one guy, let's call him Bill. Bill was an actor, so he was a little hyper, but we understood each other for the most part it seemed. Until we met. Then I didn't understand him so much anymore.
It didn't help that I had gone to happy hour for a few cocktails before the date.
It also didn't help that he didn't drink. What?
He showed up wearing a yellow Lance Armstrong bracelet, and Lord have mercy on the man who makes that mistake. I was all over him like a bum on a baloney sandwich about it: "So, tell me about your bracelet?" And he was like, "Oh, come on, a friend of mine had cancer and then he beat it so..."
"So, now you wear it so you can remind yourself about it? Or better yet, make awkward conversation-stopping conversation about it on a blind date?"
I guess I was a little tipsy. And obnoxious, sure. But I didn't care.
Then I asked, "How's your Coke?" like a dick. Because I was on my second beer, and not that I advocate alcoholism, I simply don't understand complete sobriety. It makes me fuckin' nervous. So he went into some explanation saying that he either was in recovery or wasn't, I guess I wasn't listening. Recovery is understandable. Mormonism is not. But either way, the guy was sober.
"I don't know, I guess I just am high on life,"he said.
GOOD GRIEF DID HE REALLY SAY THAT?
A GUY WITH A RUBBER BRACELET WHO DOESN'T DRINK SAYS TO ME THAT HE'S HIGH ON LIFE?
Then I went in for the kill.
"Well, at least you're not cheap," I said. You wouldn't believe the nightmarish date I had recently..." And I told him the story about Cheap Guy.
He said, "Sounds bad."
I replied, "It was."
Then he goes, "Well, I can top that. I went on a date recently with a woman for 2 hours before I realized she was a racist."
[get ready, here's my joke comin' up, the one that you've been waiting for that inspired the post]
And I said, "Really. Interesting. Did I mention that the cheap guy was a Jew?"
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
HAHAHAHAHAH
OH ANNE, STOP IT! LLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL
And I actually patted myself on the back right then and there.
I don't think he laughed.
And I don't care. I didn't care then, I don't care now.
It is hands down,
one of the funniest things,
I've ever said in my life. And I couldn't have done it without Bill, though. After all, he did set me up the play. And I made the slam dunk.
Moral of this story: If you don't want a second date, act like a racist. Oh, and I think I'm really funny.
The End.
HAHAHAHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
Oh, man. It's still good. And it's got legs. Excellent.
*Sigh*
*pat on back*
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
Ahhh, them are some good 'uns ain't they?
Did you see France's Zidane head butt Italy's Materazzi? After a little trash talking. Last game for Zidane and he gets a red card, booted off the field. Way to go. Nice legacy, pal.
See it here. All you hear is the French announcer asking, "And why? And why?? And why???"
I don't know why I was attracted to him though. Perhaps it was his uniform, his hot fuckin' pilot uniform. Or perhaps it was his quick wit, and wonderful relationship with his wife that I found attractive. Me thinks it was a combination, one that took me by my surprise, as Jason Bateman was more age appropriate and logical and all. Plus, blondes never really have caught my fancy. But I really think the crush is more on Michael Hogan and not Josh Taylor, because years later I'd catch Josh Taylor on Days of Our Lives when his hair started to recede and the cracks in his face began to show and I got grossed out. Josh Taylor has not aged as well as Michael Hogan.
--to distract you from the fact that she is 75 friggin' years old--is absurd!!!! I'll say it's distracting, but it's not fooling the eye into believing anything. Ridiculous.
They must use 50 cameras and 50 pounds of grease. Twat!
Camera on Janice: Greasy.
Camera on her son: Sans grease.
Camera on Janice: Greasier.
Camera on model: Sans grease.
Back to Janice: Greeeeeeeeeeeeasiest.
Barbra Streisand requests the gauzy lens too, I hear. She's not high maintenance either, I hear.
Ahem.
Great seats
Kazoo band? Yep, we've got that.
Bread and Puppet Glover, VT
Cute freakin' kids? You bet. 
I pack lightly. A basic backpack's all I need. Pockets everywhere for everything? Yes. Paisley? No. Stylish? No. But I work it, yo. Can I beat your dumpy ass through the station to make the train? Yes. Why? Because I do not summer anywhere requiring flatirons.
Slaves to fashion, bitches, you're slaves to fashion. Just give up already. I did. Trust me: it doesn't matter.
Flatiron? Up your ass you need to shove it. So far.
Notice my fine form here as I begin the cartwheel people. Do you see the outline of my chiseled calf muscle? You better, or I'll cartwheel you in the friggin' face.
Shit. And to think I thought my toes were pointed the whole time. Demerit. Ah, well.
What can I say other than lame, sheepish, uncoordinated dismount?
*That white building is the liberry
**That other building is our shed
***The grass is really that green
****I'm wearing a Red Sox cap
*****You knew that
******I wore that skirt everyday but one and you'll see it in every photo
*******Dont' judge me you would too it's quite nice with the pockets and stuff
No offense to my people of the Great White North, but the Mackenzie Brothers:
sings with them on their song Take Off (to the Great White North) and it is fuckin' hilarious.
That is if you like dumb Canadian dudes who cut off each other's sentences, act silly, drink beer and burp and all. Oh, and RUSH. Which I do. And I've got impeccable taste, thank you very much, hosers!
Greensboro Vermont has their fireworks on July 2. Why? Because they do. How do you like the "Fireworks" setting on the camera? Pretty sweet, huh? I thought so. 
