Monday, August 31, 2009


Oh my gosh, you guys, today I was in a clothing store at the mall, and this girl came out of the dressing room to talk to her friend. She was wearing a button up sweater that she had been trying on except the top half of it was completely unbuttoned. She had obviously forgotten she wasn't wearing anything but a bra underneath it so, essentially, she flashed her ladies to the entire store. Not only that but everyone was looking at her because she was yelling her friend's name really loud to get her attention.

Oh did I mention it was me?


Dear everyone at the store, that one was for free. Next time you all owe me drinks.

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Pants-off Dance-off

You know how sometimes you're at a bar and then suddenly you're in a dance off with a circle of people around you and you do your final move (a sideways hip bump toward your competitor) and your competitor then rebuttles by jumping down during his dance and doing a push up? Oh you don't? Well I do. Because that is what happened to me Friday night. I was in a dance off.

Now, it wasn't an official bar-sanctioned dance off. I was simply standing around with my work friends (yes I was with work people, you guys), dancing around one of them as if he was a totem pole, and a guy came up and goes, "I want you to be in a dance off with my friend over there." I looked behind me to see who he was talking to because obviously it couldn't have been me-a chubby, 30-something white girl. Then I saw my competitor: a chubby, 20-something white boy. And it started to make sense. However, I watched that kid dance earlier in the night, and he was good. And me. You guys know. I'm an ass. I'm clumsy. I don't dance for real. Any dance moves I have are purely to make my friends laugh and nothing more. And it usually works because I am a horrible dancer.

I looked at the guy with wide eyes and said, "Wait-me? You want me to be in a dance off?" And he said, "Yes. You." And I said, "Oh no I don't dance. Not for real." And he goes, "I think you do dance. And you will be in this dance off." I looked over at my adorable competition, and he was like, "Let's do this." And suddenly, I was in a dance off, coming as close to my dream of living in the movie "Step Up" as I will ever get.

He went first, and I could tell he was taking it easy on me. Then it was my turn, and I have no idea what happened. I lost control of my body and was pulling out anything I had-including...The Running Man. The Running Man, you guys! After my aforementioned hip bump, the guy who had pulled me into the dance off came up and goes, "It's the end of the first quarter, and you are up 10-0." That's when my competitor did the push up, and I was down 14-10. Then some drunk mess of a girl who no one knew walked into the middle of the circle and started dancing, so I danced all up on her to try and get the lesbian points. I know it's shameless, but I was out of moves except for The Fake Run, and there is no way I win on The Fake Run. My ploy worked. After that, the drunk girl wouldn't leave so the dance off fell apart. My competitor and I decided it was a tie, and on my way out of the bar I saw him almost walk into the women's restroom by accident. When he saw me laughing, he came up and gave me a hug. I really wanted to say, "You got served," but he totally didn't get served.

On the way out of the bar, my friends and I were kind of quiet and then suddenly my friend Jen said, "You were in a fucking dance off tonight.

"Yes I was, Jen. Yes I fucking was.

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

This post has no theme

Follow up:

I went to the bathroom where the incident took place today and peered into the stall to take in the scene of the crime. This is what I saw:

That is a result of me kicking the seat. It's 6 days later and has not moved. Who knows how many ladies have been saved by my immature angry outburst? Probably at least 3. On the other hand, someone's been in to clean it at least 12 times since then, and yet it has not been fixed. Awesome.

Guess what I did tonight? Played tennis with Steph. Obviously. Because I haven't played tennis in 19 years so why wouldn't I be playing it on a Tuesday night? Steph has decided this summer she would implement Tennis Tuesdays. It's not like she's a tennis player. She bought a racket for $10 at Target, and now she picks someone new every week to play with her. Tonight was my turn. Items of note:

1. I took out my racket after 19 years and spiders were living in it. I was like, "This is no longer a racket. This is someone's home now."
2. I wore my mom-slip-on tennis shoes ("tennies" if I was actually my mom), and they tore up the back of my heels so bad that now they are literally burning.
3. We went to the bar afterward, and despite the fact that were the sweatiest women who have ever walked the planet Earth, our adorable bartender was in love with Steph. Here is just one example of what happened: I ordered a drink. He made it. Steph ordered a drink. He carded her saying, "You definitely don't look 30." W. T. F. Shortly after that, Drew, Woody and Matt showed up and totally cockblocked her. It was sad but funny when Steph put her credit card out to pay the bill, and he absolutely refused to take it. He ignored it for 20 minutes easily while he took the cards for all the boys around her. I heart that bartender, and I want him to marry Steph. Speaking of marrying Steph I may have said if given the choice I would marry her over Matt because she has nice boobs, and I like redheads.

And the award for Greatest Thing I've Ever Seen goes to my sister, Diane, for Incident at Golf on Sunday. I was in my cart about 15 yards behind her watching her take her shot. My mom was to my left in a cart, and Drew and my dad were on my right in their cart. Diane went to hit the ball, but she top it and it bounced. I didn't see where it went so I was looking around when Diane turned around, mouth agape making a face that clearly said "No. Effing. Way." I looked at her quizzically, and she slowly pulled up the skirt part of her skorts*, and there, nestled between her thighs, was the golf ball. She had hit the ball, it bounced up and she caught it between her thighs. Ho. Ly. Shit. I honestly can't remember the last time I laughed that hard. This is how she described it after we somewhat gained our composure: "I felt it go in between my legs, so I just squeezed."

There are just way too many jokes here. But I'm going to avoid them because it's my baby sister. I will say this to maybe help explain why she caught it: she used to be a softball catcher. And a slut. Just kidding, Dad. By the way, "I felt it go between my legs, so I just squeezed" is the best quote of 2009.

Thursday, August 13, 2009

Good Grief

I wanted to post last night, but I got home late after searching the Cleveland Museum of Art for naked people. I'm not a complete perv, you guys. It was a scavenger hunt. It was for young professionals, and they had food and drinks, and you seriously went on a scavenger hunt to find pictures and sculptures of naked people. Obviously the only young professional events we attend are ones involving naked people. Meg is actually the one who got an email with a link to the event, but she thought it was weird and might make her seem perverted so she immediately deleted it. That's where Steph came in. Obviously. All in all it was a good time, and we got to eat afterward, and I really like eating. It was definitely a good ending to a crappy day.

'A crappy day?', you ask. Yes. I had what I like to refer to as a Charlie Brown day yesterday. This included, but was not limited to, the following:

- Oversleeping
- Tripping on the way into the bathroom and running into the doorframe
- Stepping on a plug
- Dropping the hair dryer on my foot
- Dropping the hair dryer a second time and watching it break
- Spilling/squirting lotion all over the bathroom
- Dropping one of my prescription drugs down the sink
- Losing my keys
- Losing my sunglasses
- Spilling something all down the front of my skirt immediately after I got to work

And then...the piece de resistance (I don't know how to put the accents on that). This happened:

Sometime in the afternoon I had to use the ladies room. I don't want to be unladylike so I'll just say it like this: I had to piss like a racehorse. So I headed to the ladies room, carefully laid down the tissue paper toilet cover and then sat down on the toilet. Immediately, I slid off. Now, I don't have a slippery butt nor was the toilet seat greased up (ew). So what happened? Well I quickly surmised that the toilet seat which, as you know, is normally connected to the toilet by two bolts, was only connected by one. The other bolt was broken, and instead of someone fixing it or putting up a note, they just laid the seat back into place to give it the appearance of a fully functioning seat. Enter me who sits down and immediate slides off the toilet along with the seat.

First of all, this is a girl's worst nightmare. Just the thought of touching the part underneath the seat is enough to give me hives. Men, this is why it is crucial that you put down the damn seat. Because if we come in and-God forbid-forget to look, then we a) fall into the toilet and b) have to take a steel wool shower afterward to get rid of the feeling of touching the part under the seat. Ugh I can't talk about this anymore. I'm getting sick.

Okay, so there I am sliding off the toilet seat about to touch the under part. The good news: The tissue paper thing stayed in such a position that it was covering the lower portion of the toilet bowl. Thank heavens for small favors. Also I caught myself by throwing my arms and hands up against either side of the stall and by using all the upper thigh strength I could muster. The bad news: While catching myself, I tweaked my knee-this is the knee I refer to as Osgood Knee, Weather Knee and most recently, Bike Injury Knee. Sadly, I am not recovered yet, so when I tweaked my knee, I was in excruciating pain. Also I was totally wedged in between the toilet and the wall to my left and was not sure how to stand up without a) feeling more pain in my knee and b) touching anything gross (i.e., everything).

Eventually, miraculously, I was able to push myself up, and in the process got stuck on the metal tampon/maxi pad waste container on the wall and ripped a hole in my favorite skirt. The only saving grace is that no one else was in the bathroom or even near it as this was happening. But if you had been standing outside the bathroom, this is how it would have sounded:

Loud cracking noise.

Holy shit! What the...?!? Are you kidding me right now?

How do I?

lots of grunting


Pleasenopleasenopleaseno. [pause] Goddammit!

I hate you bathroom! I hate you toilet! I hate this day!

Loud bang (Ed. note: This is where I kicked the toilet seat into the opposite wall)

Water running


Door gets thrown open in your face as you watch me give the bathroom the middle finger and walk away, briskly.


Friday, August 07, 2009

Krusty's 2009: You're Still the One

A few key indicators that Krusty's was a success:

- Your skin is fried and your tan lines are, in a word, ridiculous (and they are a good indicator of just how low cut your top was. Note: very, very low)
- At some point, you were wearing a t-shirt on your head
- You find upwards of 16 moist towelettes and 3 Blow Pops in your pockets (sorry, Tony)
- It's a week later and you can't stop smiling.

As usual, the weather was absolutely perfect, and I finally got to meet Tony-the wonderful man who inexplicably put me on the VIP list for this event. By the way, not only was I on the VIP list again this year, but they had me under "Media Credentials". Media Credentials! That's the highest-and most ridiculous-honor this blog has ever received. When we pulled up, they asked us all for our tickets, and the guy goes, "Okay we're one short." And I said, "I'm on the VIP list." He goes, "Oh...yeah I've never heard that before. Man I haven't even had a drink yet and you're already trying that?" Then had asked me my name, and I had to say, "It's under 'Media Credentials'." and he scoffed and said, "Oh please! Yeah right!" Then came back nodding and laughing and said, "Okay here you go." The best part is he worked with Christy. Christy was like, "Man, if you weren't on the list, how would I be able to face that guy at work?"

This year we had three Krusty's virgins with us: Lisa who was nervous about proper Krusty's behavior (note: proper Krusty's behavior = drink, sit and give money to charity), Woody who literally couldn't believe he was allowed to be somewhere out in public all day wearing a shirt with no sleeves, and Chicken Noodle whose middle name is Chicken Noodle. For real, you guys.

All of them have been, like all of us, permanently changed by the wondrousness that is Krusty's. This year there was some volleyball playing, but not by me. I walked over for a minute to see my sister in a sundress rolling around in the sand and diving for the ball. She's a real lady, that one. There was also a little frisbee-tossing by Christy and Steph. By Steph's own admission this is the only time she was not sitting or going up to get beer. Awesome. I, on the other hand, can only remember pieces of the day. But that is customary around these parts when posting about all day drinking events. Here's what I remember:

- Lindsay made us all snack bags. I'm sure it will shock you to find out that she is a teacher. These were not little snack bags filled with a couple pieces of candy. These were gallon freezer bags filled with crackers, gum, tons of candy, fruit roll ups, etc. In a word: amazing. Except for when the Hershey kisses melted and got chocolate on everything. To solve that issue, Loyd, Sharda and I took out some moist towelettes and cleaned everything off. We're problem-solvers.

- Our age became really apparent while planning for our day out. The first couple years we went to Krusty's, we didn't bring anything. This year our planning including working out who would bring toilet paper, paper towels, hand sanitizer and a first aid kit. Plus I made sure to bring my insurance card.

- I got to meet the lovely Alexa from Cleveland's a Plum who I'm pretty sure I totally freaked out by staring at her and whispering to my friend Lindsay, "I think that's Alexa. Do you think that's her? I think it is. Should I go introduce myself? I probably should now since I'm scaring her." Alexa, sorry for being creepy. Let's go get a drink!

- Lindsay put her red drink tickets in her bra and stained her boobs. I laughed so hard a little pee came out.

- I saw my friend Kyle who is my age. He told me that everyone at his work thinks he is 26. And when I laughed he said, "What-look at my cool hat and Child's Small t-shirt. That obviously means I'm 26."

- At least one wallet was lost and 2 credit cards were left at the bar

- We recreated the scene from last year when I pulled up my skorts and poured popcorn in them. This scene cannot be recreated enough in my opinion.

- We played electronic Catchphrase (dorks!) which ended up driving away our younger and hipper friends. One of whom, Lardiss, had come over only to steal our Chex Mix. I tried to give him the opportunity to lie to us, to make us feel like he came over just to see us, but he said, "Okay listen-I'm just here for the Chex Mix. And that's the truth."

- Steph brought a little table in a bag that was about 3 feet x 3 feet and 8 inches off the ground. A minimum of six people played flip cup on this table...on their knees. Meanwhile we had two big normal sized card tables in the cars-about a 20 second walk away.

- We met the woman who originally put Krusty's together. Her name is Gina and she is lovely. Sharda tried to embarass us by instantly saying, "I'd like to talk to you about something. Do you have recycling bins here?" Oh my God. Sharda! Obviously because I was mad, I told Gina that Sharda would help her set up recycling bins next year.

- Woody, who is very pale, went to sit in a shady spot after volleyball. We couldn't find him for like a half hour. He spent the next couple hours asking everyone if they wanted to "go to the shady area". I eventually took him up on it to get a break from the relentless sun, and he was so happy. The shade was amazing, but it had some sort of effect on Renee and I because we promptly moved from drunk partygoers into poofaced nonsensical tards. At one point, we were yelling at a guy who was peeing kind of nearby:

"We can see you!"
"We can see it!"
"We can see your pee pee!"
"We see your thingy! Nice cloth belt!"

That last one was Renee, and I laughed so hard I cried. I don't know why. I was delirious. Plus she had just made some joke about a neon head (I don't know) so I had the giggles already. Also we saw a guy playing volleyball who was wearing camouflage shorts, and we were screaming, "I can't see that guy's lower half!" Apparently we came back to our group yammering on about a floating torso that we saw, but we never explained it. Look I can't be bothered to explain stuff when I am trying to eat Twizzlers and put sunscreen on Woody's head. P.S. Making jokes about not being able to see people when they are wearing camouflage is my favorite thing ever.

- I found 2 dice on the ground. I know that doesn't sound that exciting, but you would've thought I found money. I ran back to Steph with my prize to tell her all about it. Then I opened my hand slowly, and let everyone gaze upon them. Then Steph stole them from me, and we immediately made up a drinking game with them. We changed the rules with every turn, all of which made it so we were drinking more and more-almost through the whole game. My favorite rule, though, was if you got a 7 or a snake eyes, you got to give out a drink to anyone. They didn't even have to be playing the game. Drew started handing them out to people walking by, and because everyone's awesome at Krusty's, they all obliged. Sidenote: I still have the dice.

- At about 8pm, 8 hours after we got there, it dawned on me that I had not gone to the bathroom yet. Steph was absolutely horrified. Meg goes, "That's impressive." Steph goes, "That's unhealthy." She beseeched me to drink water, and I'm glad she did because I think she saved me from a) a horrible hangover and b) a kidney transplant.

- FYI-Krusty's is held at Whiskey Island. In the cab ride on the way home, Drew told our cab driver that we were the coolest people he's ever had in his cab. The driver said we would have to prove it, and that we were part of a contest. A minute later, Renee said, "Hey-I found out why Whiskey Island is named Whiskey Island." Then she told us the history behind it. After a beat our driver said, "You guys are not the coolest."

- Shortly after Renee's history lesson, we asked the cab driver if he was a Cash Cab. Renee told him he could use her fun fact as his first question in Cash Cab. Then we stopped at a red light next to a restaurant. Drew rolled down the window and yelled to a guy sitting outside, "Hey! Do you know why Whiskey Island is called Whiskey Island!?" The guy replied, "Because people get trashed there?" Which is an awesome yet incorrect answer. Then Drew yelled, "Wrong! You lost Cash Cab!"

- Sunday evening, I got this voicemail message from Steph: "I just wanted you to know that the reason Renee said Whiskey Island got its name is wrong. I'll be sending out an email tomorrow. Goodbye."

- At the bar, I had to physically restrain Meg from eating other people's food. Then she begged Diane to drive her to Taco Bell, but Diane was like, "We don't have a car." While we were all standing outside, Meg ran across the street, flagged down a giant 10 person cab and hopped in the front seat. Then we watched the cab turn around, start driving then slow down and pull into Taco Bell. Then perhaps the greatest thing ever happened, and none of us witnessed it. Meg apparently force fed the cab driver a burrito. She told him she had too much food then shoved it in his face. Are you effing kidding me? Man I wish I would've seen that.

- Here is a quote from Steph: "The worst part of Krusty's for me was when you jackholes slept in for days and I had to walk 20 miles uphill in the snow to get my car." She is referring to the fact that she woke up at an ungodly hour on Sunday and was mad that we are normal and were still sleeping. Her car was still at Whiskey Island so instead of waiting for us to wake up to take her to get it, she did what any sane person who spent the entire previous day and night drinking and doing shots would do-she walked. It's 3 miles. 3 mile walk + hangover = even worse hangover that you blame on your friends.

Some other things happened, especially at the bar, that I have not received clearance to tell you about so let me sum them up in a few words: choke on your own spit funny.

Tony and all, Krusty's was again amazing. My favorite day of the summer, hands down. Plus it's for charity! At one point in the day, Steph took a giant swig of her beer and said, "Man I really love helping people." Really, guys, you do a wonderful job for a wonderful cause. Great job on the food line. I have only one suggestion for next year: 80s/90s cover band. Please. I need to dance.

Clevelanders who weren't there, why weren't you there?

Everyone else, support the Malachi House and hospices in your community. Then go get drunk.

Krusty's, see you next year, love of my life.

Readers, um...all I'm going to say right now is August 22nd. More to come on a plan we are cooking up.

Wednesday, August 05, 2009

It sure is nice up here on my soapbox

Sorry I haven't finished the Krusty's post yet. I promise it will be up this week. Last night I was just way too busy meeting a charming young man and exchanging numbers with him. Okay so maybe he's 11 and is my sister and brother-in-law's nephew. I still got digits. By the way, the picture he put in his phone for when I call him is Spiderman. Awesome. Also Diane told me he totally used opposite day jokes on her yesterday to try and get her to give him more cookies. A) I am so in tune with the youth of today and b) his tricks obviously didn't work on Diane. I think he thought she had no idea what opposite day was. Andy, I know we're old, but we aren't dumb, and opposite day has been around forever. It just shows that some things never change (e.g., opposite day, milk milk lemonade).

Oh but want to hear about something that is changing for kids today that makes me so angry I want to punch someone? A lot of parents are now banning sleepovers. Banning sleepovers! My best memories of growing up were the sleepovers I had. I can't imagine a kid having to miss out on this. Here is a quote directly from the article:

"Newsome, a Miami mother of two, worries she's being overprotective, but says the "what if" factor outweighs it. "You read so many horror stories. The kid's father going into the room and doing something," said 37-year-old Newsome. "We just don't feel comfortable with people we don't know.""

Listen, I feel you, lady. I really, really do. I know there are a lot of creeps out there (not more than when you were a kid, but I'm sure you haven't considered that), but making your daughter an outcast amongst her friends and stopping her from enjoying her childhood doesn't guarantee she won't get molested. What is so hard about taking the time to get to know the parents of the child your daughter wants to spend time with. Why can't you do your research and make informed choices? Most people are innately good, and I just don't see how a) making your child miss out on such an important rite of passage and b) teaching her this level of distrust at such a young age is doing anything but harm. Stop hovering and being annoying, and do your homework on families you don't know so your kid isn't the one who has to be picked up early at every party while everyone else gets to stay and have fun. Guess what happens to your daughter when she goes to college? She goes insane at the first taste of freedom and ends up being known as Betty Blowjob around campus. need to let go of the whole rated R movies concern. It's going to happen. And yes, she will be traumatized, and it will probably affect her for the rest of her life to the point that when she's 29 and her boyfriend makes her watch "The Ring" she cries and gets so mad that she doesn't talk to him for an hour and when she's 32 she will still refuse to go to a haunted house even though the people working there are literally half her age and probably work part time at the McDonald's by her know what? I'm with you on this one, lady. Good luck regulating that.

P.S. I just want to point out that I do not have children nor can I even imagine how difficult raising a child must be. So take my words with a grain of salt. I am just sad kids are missing out on something so fun because parents aren't dealing with their fears. And also, quit raising wimps, America.

Monday, August 03, 2009

Jolly Holiday

I need some time to finish my Krusty's post. I'll just say this: It was horrible-in opposite world. Yeah I put an opposite world joke out there. What's up, elementary school? Seriously, though, when I have trouble piecing together the day, you know it was a good time. While you are waiting, a good way to spend your time would probably be to donate to the Malachi House. I don't get too serious often on this blog because I am usually too busy being ridiculous, but I will say this and then we'll move on. Hospice is a service in which I believe very strongly. Not only does it ensure that no one dies alone, but the wonderful people at hospice take care of the difficult things-the work-so that time spent with family is quality time. Dying is scary, and hospice provides much needed comfort in the final days. /serious talk. Quick hospice related sidenote: There is a local hospice that holds a memorial service a couple times a year for alll the people that have passed since the previous memorial service. A few years ago they held the service at my church, and my organist asked me to sing. I jumped at the chance to be any part of something so important. I did not think it through, you guys, because if I had I would've remembered that I can't even get through a Hallmark commercial without having a complete breakdown. So I went to the service, sat in the front row and within 3 minutes was a complete mess. Like I literally couldn't stop the tears, and I didn't even know any of the people being honored. I somehow pulled it together to sing a couple songs then I sat down and continued on with my meltdown. The best part is that I made my sister and B (my bf at the time) come and watch me sing. At one point I looked back at them, and their faces were just frozen in horror. Awesome.

Switching gears, on Thursday we went to see Mary Poppins-the musical version. My parents had gone the night before and called us on the way home to tell us they were buying us tickets because we HAD to go. Then they actually did buy us tickets. My parents rule. Also Cleveland rules for loving and appreciating the arts like it does. I love you, Cleveland! Here is my 5 word review of Mary Poppins: holy effing eff it's amazing. Seriously if you like musical theater, you must see this. The costumes, the sets, the choreography, the effects-they were all so elaborate and perfectly done. And the talent-oh my God the talent on that stage. Plus it's fun. Really, really fun. There were a ton of kids there, and normally I would say that all that does is make me want to stay home, but all it did was make it more fun. I think Diane, Drew and I might have turned into a bunch of 7 year olds. That's certainly how I felt-well except for the fact that the State Theater was built back when the average height of a human was like 4'10". I wanted to cut off my legs at the knee just to get some leg room, but the discomfort was totally and completely worth it. "Step in Time" was so good I almost cried. On the way back to the car, Diane lamented the fact that Mary and Bert did not end up together. And Drew was like, "Come on-Mary has a Bert in every city." See how we can take the childhood innocence out of anything?

So a couple weeks ago I told you that I match my eyeshadow to my clothes which is a big no-no. Well, this girl on my team is like 24 and totally gorgeous and sweet, and she just came over and was like, "OMG your eyeshadow matches your shirt so well! It looks awesome!" Then I felt dumb and told her that I know you're not supposed to match your makeup to your clothes, but I always have. Then she goes, "Really? My mom used to be a model and they would always tell her to match her eye makeup to her clothes." I had decided this a) justifies how I wear my makeup and b) makes me a model. I told this exact thing to my girlfriends, and this is what Steph wrote back, "Let's see, if MOM was a model, and daughter is in her twenties, then her make-up expertise is roughly accurate as of 1980. So yes, if you want to be a model with a look from 30 years ago, match your make-up to your shirt." Damn you and your math/logical reasoning skills, Steph.