Tuesday, September 29, 2009

Desert Island, Population: Jenny

Once you start thinking about this shit, I have discovered that it is really hard to stop. Disclaimer: The following are liable to change at any time, according to degrees of hungoverness.

One type of food
- Italian. A life without pizza isn't worth living.

One band's discography
- The Beatles. Although Zappa is a close second. Zappa is a close second for my only person pick too, because we could just make lots of babies and play what the fuck is Zappa gonna name them, but he is so crazy I feel like he might up and stab me with a bamboo shank in my sleep. And did you know this fun fact? "During his childhood Zappa was often sick, suffering from asthma, earaches and sinus problems. A doctor treated the latter by inserting a pellet of radium into each of his nostrils." Uh, I'd probably name my kid Diva Thin Muffin Pigeen too.

One movie - Tommy Boy. I don't even know why I own other movies.

One TV show - The Simpsons. Duh.

One person, dead or alive - Since Paul Rudd is off the table, I am gonna go with Chris Farley. He is so goddamn funny and since we're the only people around, no one can call me a chubby chaser. Although it might be weird to watch "Tommy Boy" over and over with him. Fuckit, Paul Rudd for me too.

One book - The Bible! Sike, I can't read.

One condiment - Doritos are a condiment right.

One booze - Vodka. A good kind, not Georgi paid for with change I found in my couch cushions.[Sidenote: About six years ago, one of our good friends (we'll call him "Andrew") was in college and therefore broke. But, much like Shanon & I, he didn't let this minor detail deter him from boozin. At one point, the only money he had was in change form. He went to the liquor store, bought a five dollar bottle of Georgi and paid for that shit in nickels. The best part is, upon his return, his friends were waiting for him in his dorm room to get their INTERVENTION going. True story.]

One animal - Helper monkey. He would climb trees and get me coconuts and catch fish and mix me cocktails and I would train him in knife throwing and/or fights in case we ever got off the island and wanted to start a monkey knife fight ring or just keep my drunk friends on their toes. Wait, why don't I have one already.

Friday, September 25, 2009

Boner of the Day

SHAKIRA! I mentioned to Andrew how Shakira makes me want to be gay in a very bad way and he said "It's sex, look at those hips and that ass. It's hypnotic ...and not the black peoples drank." Troof. THEN he said "How do we make Jenny wear that leotard? Oh duh, Halloweenie." Another troof. Andrew's on fire today.

They wouldn't let me put the video up for "She Wolf" so here's a sexy photo from it. Youtube that shit. Muy caliente.

Desert Island

Sometimes when I'm bored I like to think about being on a deserted island and what I'd take with me if I could only have one thing for the rest of my life.

One type of food - Mexican. Obiviously.

One band's discography - This one's tricksy. I usually waver between The Beatles and Radiohead. But then sometimes I'm like no, no, no, it would obviously be The Kinks. I'm a very complicated woman.

One movie - Star Wars.

One TV show - My gut instinct says Roseanne.

One person, dead or alive - I bet you think I'm gonna say Jenny, right? Wrong. I'd totally take Paul Rudd. Cause then we could repopulate the island with all the sex we'd be having plus write hilarious screen plays together.

One book - This is a toss up between Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter. Believe.

One condiment - I think about this one a lot. Condiments are key, are they not? (That poem was a freebee, by the way.) If I were going to be eating Mexican food for the rest of my life then I'd go with cholula as my one condiment. However, if this were just a general "what is your fav condiment" type dealio, then hands down I'd go with mustard.

One booze - I'd have to go with rum on this one. Not because I'm particularly fond of the liquor but because it comes in both brown and clear form AND it's what the pirates used to drink. If anything, I yearn to be authentic.

One animal - Because I think animal companionship is key, I'm gonna go with baby elephant or chimpanzee. Yup.

Technology Is Great

Today the iPhone decided to get with the program and allow picture messaging. The first pic I get sent was from Andrew, of his butt cheeks. Then I sent one to Bennie of my tits. Then Bennie sent me one of his tits. And just this morning I was telling my friend how grown-up I am because of my new phone. Yeah. Picture texts are the tits.

Mama Don't Feel So Good

I can't hold my liquor like I used to. Of course, I suppose the degree of the hangover is related to the number of hours spent at the bar. Last night we jammed out with our clams out for a good 5 hours. We were there so long we even ordered a pizza to the bar. I completely lost track of space, time and all human beings other than the 3 people I was with. Fucking crazy bar. Now I want to die. Jenny sent this amoosing photo to me this morning and it perfectly mirrors how I'm feeling. Poor monkey.

I sent this to one of my coworkers that I was with and said "I feel like this orangutan." His response, "I feel like that homeboy's butt crack." Apt.

Poop Euphemisms

Poophemisms? I don't care. Here's a list:

Man On Deck.
This one is my favorite.

Drop The Cosby Kids Off At The Pool.
Old one, it's funny because the kids are brown.

Turtle Head. This is just gross.

Prairie Dogging.
I dunno why this is funny and turtle head isn't, but them's the breaks.

Cutting Tracks For My Solo Project.
Holy hell, just learned this one, thank you Chris.

Drop Anchor. Ahoy!

Baking Brownies.
Ruins brownies for me a little bit, not gonna lie.

Cut The Line For The Log Flume.
Shanon made this one up last night, after I told the story of how my cousin shit his pants while on this ride when we were little. On the Log Flume. Seriously.

Thursday, September 24, 2009

Parent Drunk Dials

Drunk dialing my parents is something I like to do from time to time, to keep them on their toes or tell them a really funny joke, but for some reason they never seem to be as stoked on receiving the call as I am on making it. This may be due to the fact that I used to be a "troublemaker," if you will, and my Mom claimed that every time the phone rang after 10pm, she got a little closer to a stroke. What a whiner.

Anywho, last night, the shoe was on the other drunken foot, when my Dad decided to gimme a ring. Drunk calls from parents can either go really well; they tell you how much they love you and how proud of you they are and if they're like my Dad, will put you on the phone with their friends and make them do Donald Trump impressions. Or they take a wrong turn and are full of guilt trips and "when I was your age" and "stop getting drunk and arrested" and "I told you cow tipping isn't real," bla bla bla.

Unfortunately, I received the latter last night. He was about four Bloody Marys in and so was I (it's like we're related or something) so we decided to chat. And by "chat" I mean he yelled "explain iPhones" for about ten minutes, then interrupted everything I said for the next fifteen. Goodbyes were said in the form of multiple threats of hanging up on each other.

Oh, parents. When will they learn how to hold their liquor.

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

Best Chick Flicks

Jenny and I may hate on a lot of chick stuff (makeup, shaving, dieting, relationships, etc) but man do we love our chick flicks. Here's a list of our favorites. I say "our" instead of "mine" because we completely agree in this ('cept maybe the last one).

1. Bridget Jones' Diary. Best. Movie. Ever. "Mr. Tits Pervert." That's all I have to say really.

2. Sweet Home Alabama. Funny story with this one. Jenny and I confessed to each other our desire to see this movie, then it turned up on rotation on the NYU free movie channel (where I went to college, yup). We promised each other we'd watch it together but wouldn't you know it I went and saw it without her. Oh man, she was so pissed when I told her! Hilarious.

3. 10 Things I Hate About You. I saw this movie in the theatre with Libby back in high school and I watched it again just the other night with my girl Morgan. Still a classic. Heath Ledger rest in peace.

4. Notting Hill. I don't give a fuck what anyone says, this movie is the tits. That last speech Hugh gives during that press conference? I tear up every goddamn time.

5. Clueless. Don't know if this counts as a chick flick, per se, but I know every single word by heart so there you go. It's given me some great everyday vernacular: "she's a full on a Monet," "I do NOT wear vehicular hair," "I dunno ...stuff," "I'm totally butt-crazy in love with Josh," "He does dress better than I do, what would I bring to the relationship," "I was surfing the crimson wave, I had to haul ass to the ladies," and finally, the ever classic, "She could be a farmer in those clothes." (Jenny used this one to describe my outfit the other night. Fuck I think I need a makeover.)

6. Pride and Prejudice. I prefer the BBC mini-series to the film with Keira What's-Her-Face but honestly I'll watch whichever one's on tv. I own the mini-series in both VHS and DVD form. Represent!

The Entrance Band

Jenny's been pretty silent on the blog front today because she has actual work to do. Go figure! So guess what time it is? Nerd time! That's right. Let's discuss The Entrance Band for a second, shall we? This band is blowing my mind grapes. I love them so much. And look at how hot the lead singer is. His eyes say "Fuck me, Shanon," do they not? Here's their best single (but really the whole album is top notch) for your downloading sexy-time pleasure.

The Entrance Band - Still Be There

Office Crush

I was loathe for this to happen but the day has finally arrived. I have a crush on a dude I work with. This is both terrible and delightful for several reasons.

First the delightful part: Work is so much better when you have someone to flirt with! Also, I'm hoping it will help me dress a little sexier. I only just realized that my outfit today screams equal parts Liz Lemon and Ellen. Not the best way to impress a dude. Also I just realized I said "I'm hoping" rather than the affirmative "I WILL dress sexier." You see how lazy I am? Not even a cute boy can induce me to wear an outfit that doesn't prompt one of my coworkers to say, "I'm liking the Tom Selleck look today, Shanon." True story.

Now the terrible part: I will inevitably spill the beans when wasted, then the gossip fairies will spread the word and soon everyone will know my dirty little secret.

Boner of the Day

Roy from The Office. There were like 10 episodes on in a row on TBS last night. The roomie and I both commented on how smokin' hot Roy is. I'd totally hit that shit.

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

Boner of the Day

The Voltaggio brothers on the current season of Top Chef. Hot damn their parents made some fine lookin' babies. Voltaggio sandwich please!

(Sorry I know they look kinda constipated in this photo, but it's the only one I could find, deal.)

Intervention Time?

My fascination and what-the-fuckery regarding Hasids is getting worse by the day. This morning whilst riding down Bedford I had a staring competition with one who was not very inbred looking and, in fact, was rather attractive. Guys, I think it's time for an intervention because I am seriously having fantasies about crazy Hasidic sex.

I Love Hatin'

Shanon mentioned to me this morning that she needed to write a "positive" post, seeing as she has been a hater lately and I agree that balance is needed in most things in life, but hating is really, really fun.

I love hating on shit. This is not to say that I am a negative person. I am rarely in a bad mood, if I am it can easily be remedied with booze, hugs and or drugs. Staying mad at people and holding grudges is a lot of work and my memory is also no bueno, so I usually give up after about fifteen minutes. And for no reason, stuff like this will crack me up for days.

But mostly I like to hate because making fun of shit is funny and "nice" people tend to be a snooze. Truth bombs. Ka-boom.


Fall is nothing if not lovely biking weather. I love the shit out of riding my bike and even though it tricks me into exercising, I forgive it because it's so much fun. There has been a whole mess of hot dudes on bikes this Fall, but for some reason whilst riding home last night, I was hit with a barrage of annoying bikers that made me so angry I felt like ripping off my t-shirt like Hulk, only in a non sexy way.

Folding Bikes.
These are equivalent to those baby "smart cars" people drive. Sure, they're good for the environment and I respect that you're giving riding/driving a shot, but you know everyone thinks you are a giant vag who is scared of the commitment a real bike or car requires.

Double Decker Bikes. There are few things that annoy me more than when people do quirky shit just for the sake of being quirky. There are also zero benefits to riding one of these bikes except to call attention to yourself and make me wish that I had Magneto powers so I could disassemble your bike then beat you with the parts.

Fat people on bikes. Actually not so bad, reminds me of dogs wearing casts; kinda funny, kinda sad, but it's cute because you know they're trying.

Tandem Bikes. "Look! We're a couple!" Fuck you.

Talking on cell phone while riding. This is illegal to do in a car, where you are protected by thousands of pounds of steel, so if you do this on a bike, the penalty should be worse than a ticket for breaking this law. You should have to give Rosie O'Donnell head every day for a week or motorboat any of the other women on "The View."

Monday, September 21, 2009

Terrible Body Types

Jenny said she was gonna write this one but fuck it cause I have real beef with the following (she can add her two-cents later):

1. Pear-shaped ladies. So. Gross. I'll take a big ol' beer gut over a giant butt and thighs any day. I used to work at a record store in SF and my boss was this 50 year-old lezzie with a butch haircut and a pear shaped figure. God she was such a bitch.

2. Cankles. How do you get fat ankles, anyway? Sometimes I used to bitch at my grandpa for inheriting to me his skinny chicken-legs and flat butt, but it's so much better than ankles so fat that it looks like you're permanently wearing tube socks. And a flat butt, well, that's what bike ridins for.

3. Man-hands / Lady-hands. I get reaaaal bugged out by girls with manish hands and boys with dainty hands (particularly the latter). It just doesn't make sense! How come the rest of you is one sex and your hands are the other?! Also I feel like hands are more indicative to a man's peen size then his feet so lady-hand victims beware. I will judge the shit outta you.

4. Muffin-tops. I don't want to generalize, but I tend to see this phenomenon most often in public school girls. Having more to love is one thing (totally rad, btw), but wearing super-tight pants that can't control the love is entirely another. Spillage. Bleh.


You know what sucks, when you try to apologize to someone for something fucked up that you did that is really, really funny so you keep laughing, thus pissing the person off even more. I have found myself in this situation more times than I care to recall, due to my love of practical jokes and general lack of empathy. My greatest hits include:

1. Shan and I went to a party in Greenpoint a few years back and for some reason no one was answering their phone to let us in. There was no door buzzer, but we could see everyone through the windows partying and yelled to them, but no luck. So I said hey look, I will just grab a small rock and throw it through the window (which was open) so they look out and let us in. I did, it worked and we went upstairs and then found out I had hit some chick in the head with the rock. I felt bad, but it was kind of really funny so I gave apologizing a shot, then we split. When the whiskey ran out, I mean.

2. I threw my friend Lindsay's shoe over the side of the Brooklyn Bridge. We were in a cab, somewhat tip-say, and the strap had broken. She was all I don't want it, throw it out the window and I thought she was being serious, so I did (not really my fault, you see). Uh, she flipped. Shoes are apparently "expensive" and shit. She was maaaaad at me but come on, funny stuff, right.

3. Broke my parents brand new couch during a party I threw while they were away. Me & my friend Matt tried to fix it (stuffed a towel in the arm, to prop it up) to no avail. They somehow didn't notice, until one day I was watching TV with my Dad and he leaned over to get a newspaper and the arm just completely blew out. I said, "What'd you do?" completely deadpan and we both started laughing as I tried to apologize. Then I got grounded. Worth it.

My Mommy Loves Me

Here's an interesting email I received from my mother who is currently in South Africa....

Hi Shannon,
We're having a great time. The flight was long but okay. We saw a bull elephant that came into the resort yesterday rather endowed scratching his stomach with his third appendage; that was a sight. I almost didn't recognize what it was.
Lots of love,
your first mommy

1. Thanks a heap, Mom, for spelling my name incorrectly.
2. Thanks even more for making me picture you and my grandmother starring at elephant dong.
3. Finally, thanks for referring to yourself as my "first mommy" 'cause sometimes I get you and my grandmother confused.


Retraction time. My last post is completely wrong and I could not be happier. That Google Android commercial actually stars Jesse James, not Fred Durst, phew. I am even more down with that because he is married to Sandra Bullock. Watched "Two Weeks Notice" with Andrew a few weeks ago, and maybe it was the pot pills talking, but I definitely confessed my gayness for her more than once. Celebritythreesome.com, sign me up. Also, Bennie has since been demoted from fact checker to food taster.


This is embarrassing. Last night, while watching TV with Bennie, a commercial came on for Google's new Android phone, and I saw what appeared to be a silver fox in the making, or a hot Dad at the very least. So I remarked, "That dude's hot" to which Bennie responded, "You just called Fred Durst hot" and upon closer inspection, I discovered he was right. He then texted this information to Shanon. So I'm gonna beat that red headed homo to the punch and come clean before she calls me out on it; yes, Fred Durst just bought me a one-way ticket on the boner express. I am not sure what my deal is lately, am I going through some kind of 27 year old lady-related change where instead of hot flashes I get lady boners for wiggers and front men of terrible nineties bands. What the eff.

I am a big enough person to admit when I have been bested, so kudos to you Fred, you got me. To be fair, it looks nothing like him, right. Right??

Gross Nautical Terms

1. Seamen. Why would you ever want to call someone "sperm" when sailor is a perfectly acceptable title?

2. Poop deck. I don't understand where this term came from. I know it's the highest deck aft, but does that mean people pooped on it? Maybe birds? It makes no sense to me.

3. Aft. Speaking of which, for some reason this word makes me think of anal.

4. Coxswain. I picture drunk, toothless British sailors using this term to describe the little cabin boys they molested.

5. Drop anchor. This never used to be gross, but one day someone cleverly used it in lieu of "taking a dump." Now it's meaning is completely changed.

6. Barnacles. This word sounds like an STD, right?

7. Scuttlebutt. Believe it or not this is a barrel full of water that sailors drink out of. Where the fuck did they come up with that?! "Let's not call it a water cooler, let's call it a gay romp in the sack."

8. Fishmonger. This isn't really a nautical term, per se, but it's still gross. Shakespeare used this phrase to describe a pimp. Naughty! But also it makes me think about dudes fingering a chick then smelling their fingers. SO GROSS.

Thursday, September 17, 2009


After a two year long epic battle with AT&T, this Friday, I will finally be able to purchase an iphone. My life is going to be so much better, I know it. Even if I am out at brunch, I will be able to solve such mysteries as who actually has sex with either of the Williams sisters or take video and upload my sex tapes to youtube (Andrew is chock full of helpful suggestions). And a phone that actually saves my sent text messages? I may be forced to re-evaluate my drunk-dialing ways. All my wildest technological dreams are coming true. I'm beginning to entertain thoughts of a digital TV antennae and an ipod player instead of my crappy hobo shanty town cd collection. Shit is about to get real.

Then I started thinking of some iphone apps that would never make it to the market:

Black Market Baby App. Would tell you where the closest illegal baby vendor is, or maybe just where the closest baby left in a stroller un-attended is. Either way, cha-ching.

Racist Joke App.
This would GPS map out all the minorities in your vicinity before you launch into a joke so you don't have to do that awkward neck swivel. It could even have alarms for when you cross into different ethnic-centric neighborhoods. Like, "Now entering South Williamsburg, no Jew jokes."

Drug Scale App.
Apparently, everything I invent already exists, but I still think this one's super handy. Or maybe an index of how much drugs you should do according to height, weight, gender and how much booze you have had already. Eh?

Stevie Nicks App.
That's all the thought I have put into it thus far, but you know it would involve How To's on sleeping with band members, black magic, and frequency/quantity of cocaine usage before you are able to pass a quarter through your septum.

Wednesday, September 16, 2009


Back in Ghana in the eighties, people used to roll through the villages with VCRs and throw together makeshift movie nights. To promote them, local artists would paint up these fucking out of control posters that may blind you with their awesomeness.

This one is my favorite. It is actually really good, look at the detail in Play's face and they even nailed the outfits on their eighties babes.

The fuck is that fish doing there.

I can't even make fun of this one. Too awesome.
Gavin, I am forever indebted to you for sending me these.


If Jenny's dropping truth bombs about her Levi Johnston crush then I'm just gonna go right out and say that I fucking love Kanye West. Dude is so bat-shit-nuts and I can't get enough! I could give a fuck about him taking the spotlight away from future roofie victim Taylor Whatever. Seriously why does everyone need to have an opinion on this?

Anyway, back to my love of Kanye... He's totally the best. I'm pretty sure he's a closeted gay what with his love affair with that dude Andy Rose, but I'm a totally open-minded person and believe true love comes in many forms.

Also he wrote Jenny and me an apology for some stuff that happened the other week. Check it out.


So for lunch today, Bennie and I made our usual trip over to Hale & Hearty to go get us some sweet corporate soup. Bennie got a salad made and I was on deck, when all of a sudden this dude straight up cut me in line! At first, I thought maybe he didn't see me, since he was wearing glasses so I kind of looked at him like are you fucking kidding me. Bennie was on his other side and said "Hey, you just cut my friend in line" and the dude totally ignores him. I say something similar to him, no response. Mind you we are standing about one foot away from this guy, on either side of him. He refuses to make eye contact. So I say, "Wow, you are one serious asshole, what is your deal?" Still no response. At this point I am just leaning on the counter and staring at him, trying to figure out if he was blind (nope, was able to point to things he wanted in his salad) or deaf (nope, was able to respond to questions about his salad). He was British. I dunno what that says. Anyways, I kept talking crazy shit to this dude, to the point where if I was him, I would have punched me in the face, most likely right around when I said "You are such a twat, is this really happening."

While he was paying, I considered reaching out and swatting his salad to the ground. But I held back! Because that would have opened up a whole can of crazy and is also something the "Old Jenny" would have done and I only break that nutty bitch out on special occasions. But that shit was bonkers.

Wizarding World of Harry Potter Opening Spring 2010

Here's a lively conversation that Andrew and I just had. Um also, I swear I'm 27 years old. (See previous deep-thoughts post).

Me: omg it's gonna be hogsmeade?
Andrew: hell yeah it is, we are totes getting butter beer
Andrew: uh huh
Andrew: "Guests will be able to purchase wands at Olivanders wand shop via interactive (and undisclosed) methods. In Potter movies, wands select their owners. "We've developed a way to make that experience real," Woodbury said."
Andrew: OMG
Andrew: we're getting WANDS
Me: with phoenix feathers! hahaha
Andrew: hahaha
Me: um, we need to save up our money for this
Me: because i intend on buying ERRTHING
Andrew: totes

And that, my friends, is how you start your day off right.

For my other fellow nerds, watch this!

Ponder of the Day

Jenny and I had a lovely dinner date last night, followed up with some hot boy research at local dives (read: Legion Bar and Union Pool). Legion Bar was full of gays and trannies for some inexplicable reason, while Union Pool was full of unattractive nerds and 21 year-olds. Both situations made me feel like an old fart because I have more fun talking to Jenny then to the 7 ft tall she-man and the underage skater boy. What's happened to me?

It's a strange thing, being in your late 20s. I oh-so badly want to meet people at bars and take them home but am apparently incapable of doing so anymore. I partly attribute this to Jenny. The fact that we're always huddled together whispering makes us look like a pair of power lezzies. (The real story is that we're talking shit on men wearing Birkenstocks and girls wearing Maxi dresses). But also being one of the oldest people at the bar does nothing for my libido.

What's a girl to do? Old people bars are swell for hanging out with friends but not for picking up men folk. The internet seems to get one of my buddies laid plenty (she shall remain nameless), but I'm not interested in opening up my inbox to that level of crazy.

That's my late-20s crisis in a nutshell. The only foreseeable solution is for Jenny to turn into a dude and I don't think tits mcgee would be down with that one. Sigh.

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

License To Swill

Some days (Real talk: most days) the only thing on my mind is booze. A lot of dumb ladymags get delivered to my office like Self, Women's Health, and other publications that scare the pants off me and make me feel like I am living on borrowed time, due to my unhealthy ways. But erry so often I will find handy, un-FDA-approved tips that I choose to interpret as I see fit.

- The darker the liquor is, the worse your hangover will be. Moderately true. If I paint the town red with my buddies Mr. Daniels & Jimmy Beam, I am prolly gonna be a much less happy camper then if I would have let Captain Georgi steer the ship. And Jagermeister has never ever been my scene, but I can only imagine the morning afters this Bavarian bitch of a liquor leaves you to deal with.

- Tequila is the only alcohol that is not a depressant. I may have made this one up, but it's my favorite because everyone just wants it to be true so badly. But no joke, why does tequila make people get so cray. It became my liquor of choice this past Summer, for obvious reasons, and I think I might keep riding the agave wave straight through Fall. Plus if I go on a tequila bender, there is a strong chance I will wake up still drunk the next morning, making my commute to work way more enjoyable and my croissantwich way more delicious.

- Red wine & Guinness have antioxidants in them, thus making them good for you. Pretty sure I am going to live forever, at the rate I am going with these two.

- Coffee helps undo some of the damage done by boozin. Don't care if this one is true or not, coffee and hangovers are best friends.

Boner of the Day

The xx, a band of 19 year-olds out of South West London. Apparently everyone thinks they "know me" or some bullshit, because today both my boss and my buddy at Pitchfork told me I would be gay for this band.

And you what? Fuck them both 'cause they were right. I just listened to their album and it made me all kinds of horny. For reals.

These Three Things Made Me Sad Today

Why Tuesday can suck it when it's not even 11:00am:

1. Sayonara, Swayze. This was a bummer of a morning news tidbit. I am a firm believer in remembering the good times you had with someone, so I decided to watch his epic SNL Chippendales sketch. Then I tricked myself into being even more bummed out because all it did was remind me how much I love the shit out of Chris Farley too! Son of a bitch.

2. Man, my boss can be one serious cootch. If you have to work for somebody, I think it should be mandatory that they are the opposite gender of you. The dynamic always seems to work better this way.

3. The fact that seedless tomatoes do not exist. I care not for tomatoes. I keep this a secret from most people, because the reaction you get when you tell someone this is more or less equivalent to saying you hold KKK meetings in your basement every other Wednesday. Tomatoes are like the Scientologists of the fruit kingdom. People have a crazy cult-like devotion to them, for reasons I can't seem to get behind, are always claiming how great they are and how much they love them, and will spend exorbitant amounts of money on them, for a payoff that hardly seems worth it. Five bones for a "Heirloom" tomato? Right. For years I have tried to make myself like tomatoes and the most enthusiasm I can muster is a solid meh. The reason they bug me so much is the gross tomato guts and seeds they are filled with. Seedless watermelons, seedless cucumbers, seedless tomatoes just seems like the natural progression of this fruit. I'm sure there's all kinds of "scientific" and "logical" reasons this doesn't exist yet, but I don't care. If Pee Wee can grow hot dog trees, I see no reason these lazy botanists can't work it out.

Somebody better start sending me some lolcats and get this day back on the right G.D. track.

Monday, September 14, 2009

These Three Things Made Me Happy Today

1. While riding over the Willy B. bridge this morning, a Hasidic Shebrew JOGGED by me & Cara and actually smiled at us! Her jogging outfit consisted of an ankle length skirt, long sleeves and a wig, but still, made our day. Just when I thought I had these guys all figured out*...
*That's a lie. I will never in a bajillion years comprehend what goes on under those yarmulkes.

2. I Discovered that there is a hot midget who works in my building. Found this walking four-leaf-clover on the third floor. He cut everybody waiting in line for the elevator, which Bennie was none too happy about, but this is A-Ok in my book, because little (ha. haha.) does he know, but I have wonderous adventures planned out for when we inevitably become best friends.

3. Had such a good sandwich. Sometimes, it really doesn't take much to get me stoked on life. There is also a solid chance I would swap my firstborn child for a lifetime supply of free sammies from the Brooklyn Standard.

Boner of the Day

Rafael Nadal. He may've lost to Federer (that jerk) but that's ok because he's oh-so beautiful.


This is a little belated, but I figured inquiring minds would want to know so here's an update: The Great Bush Experiment 2009 went out with a slightly smaller bang (hai-o) then planned. Shanon jumped ship when she went to Vegas and I can't say I blame her, seeing as I would probably not want to be in a pool full of my male co-workers whilst rocking a bush that could support a scrunchy.

Shan and I eventually admitted to each other that we more or less used this as an excuse to slack off in the landscaping department, cause mowing the lawn is time consuming and if I am going to get a Brazilian for a dude, I damn sure better be butt-crazy in love with him because that shit hurts like no one's business.

Since no formal complaints were filed, I started questioning what other things I can let slide without throwing a wrench in the bonerworks.

Shaving legs.
Wintertime is a little easier to get away with, since I can count on one hand the number of times I have worn pants in the last 3 months, but shaving is such a pain in my ass that every time I do it I have to talk myself down from the lesbian ledge. If I do get lazy, dudes should just suck it up, because you know what's no joke? Beard burn. On more than one occasion, my chin has been left looking like I got raped in the face by Godzilla, thanks to a combo of "the scruffy look" and the sloppy bears I am into who can't be bothered to shave every day.

Feet. Instead of getting pedicures, I think I will march my twenty bones down to Daddy's and set up shop at the bar, because feet are feet and who cares. One of my ex boif's feet looked like he spent his days running through the Shire alongside his Hobbit homeboys, and another's consistently smells like pee and that's not even enough to get me to put the brakes on the booty train, so I guess there you have it.

Mustache. I don't have one of these, I'm not you're Italian grandma.

Brooklyn Book Fest

Jenny and I went to the Brooklyn Book Fest yesterday as part of our never ending search for hot nerdy boys. Books are cool too, I guess.

My favorite part of the day was when I told Jenny to "come along" as Nicky, Chris and myself were walking away from a booth we had stopped at. Jenny's response? "I'm looking at books you illiterate fuck." We love each other.

(p.s. This dude looks hot from the back, right?)

Thursday, September 10, 2009


Lately I have been thinking about cleaning house, friendship-wise, with a few who haven't been holding up their end of the bargain. I know I'm no walk in the park to be friends with, I can be somewhat "demanding" and "lazy-as-fuck" and "JESUS FUCKING CHRIST you are the biggest spaz ever" (that was from Shannie, earlier today) but you know what? I like to make sweeping, overdramatic decisions that I will later regret.

Here is a scale of easiest to hardest people to break up with:

1. Short term Boyfriend/girlfriend. Once you rip the band-aid off this one, it's really not so bad, because you're entitled to at least one round of Let's Bone Cuz We're Not Boning Anymore sex and it's even less stressful since you no longer have to deal with feelings or pretending to care about their blog or life-threatening illness. You also get to find out what your fuckface friends REALLY thought about them and you will stick up for them until you eventually cave in and agree that yes, it was weird the only DVD he owned that wasn't porn was Oasis live in concert.

2. Friends. These are so hard to make stick! I have only attempted this a handful of times and it usually ends up being more trouble than it's worth. My laziness mechanism will kick in at some point and I eventually say fine, fuckit, let's get lunch and I can't wait to hear all about your new juice diet and how you accidentally dyed your sideburns black while stoned.

3. Pets. This one's always weird, usually goes hand in hand with a breakup or a roomie moving out. You get sad, then either: A. Get a new, cooler pet, or B. Realize that holy shit, you have your freedom back! Let's go get wasted every night and not have to play Where In My Apartment Did My Animal Drop Anchor when you get home. Or your pet runs away, essentially breaking up with you.

4. Therapist. Good luck with this one. A friend of mine who has been seeing a therapist for eight years said the only way he could dump his is with a voicemail saying don't ever contact me again, and I concur. Any other method would invariably end up with them Jedi Mind Tricking you into bumping your sessions up to four times a week.

5. Brother/sister. If my calculations are correct, I have tried to "break up" with my brother three times now, most recently at a wedding a few weeks ago. As much as I feel like going all Rip Torn in Maidstone* on him right now, I'm sure this one will not stick either. When you share the same DNA as someone, eventually one of you will need a kidney or to borrow a hundred bucks, so you will literally suck it up and then pass that peace pipe to the left.


Things I Will Never Understand

1. Kings of Leon. Um, does anyone else remember the year 2003 when they first came out with that terrible single "Molly's Chamber" and they had long hair and were total rednecks? I seem to be the only one that recalls this. I will simply never comprehend how this band is on their way to being bigger than U2.

2. Hangovers. I drank 5 whiskeys last night and today I should feel like ass but instead I feel like a leprechaun dancing over his pot of gold shouting "top o' the mornin!" to everyone that passes by. I will never understand the elusive hangover and the hows/whys/whens of when it graces me with its presence.

3. My Mother. That lady is bat shit nuts.

4. Cryptic Biodiversity. Why can't gorillas and orangutans make babies? I think about things like that. Also Ligers and Wolphins, what's that about. And why can't Mules reproduce? Nature is a tricksy motherfucker.

5. Children. I find little kids to be the most irrational things ever. Trying to reason with a child is like trying to teach my grandmother how to use the internet.

6. Juggalos. For those not in the know, a Juggalo is a fan of Insane Clown Posse or psychopath hip hop in general. Sometimes I just stare at photos of them and imagine what kind of conversations these people must have. Seriously, what the hell do they talk about??

Tuesday, September 8, 2009

Farmer's Markets

No homo, but I love a good farmer's market. I particularly love to buy anything from a vendor with hot boys. I have a penchant for spending way too much cash there so long as the dudes working the stand are hot. It's my achilles heel, if you will.

My favorite market is the one at Grand Army Plaza, obviously, as it's walking distance from my house. Here are a list of vendors I spend my hard-earned cash on. (Spoiler alert: I am a giant nerd.)

Blue Moon Fish - Damn you, Blue Moon Fish, for having the two hottest dudes at the Greenmarket. Seriously I went there one day and kept buying things only because one of them kept flashing this gorgeous smile while asking, "Anything else?" I almost broke down and replied "your phone number!" but of course pussied out at the last minute. Now every Saturday when I go I stare at them like a crazy stalker. (One of them is in the pic below. He always proclaims his love for my owl tattoo. Sha-wing!)

Rick's Picks - I'm a sucker for spicy, marinated beans, and the dude that works at Rick's Picks is just the right amount of nerdy coupled with a beer gut. Just my type! I spend 12 fucking dollars a jar just to discuss pickling techniques. Their Smokra is the shit though. Truth.

Arcadian Pastures - I hardly ever buy meat, but this last Saturday I talked with this dude for at least 15 minutes while he explained their beef cuts and pork chops to me. Too many jokes. Brain. Overloading.

Union Square Pretzel Dudes - Jenny asked me to put this one in. I haven't been to the Union Square Greenmarket in a while but according to m'lady "they're all bangin and cheap dates cause pretzels are all a buck so you can always go."

Chinese Fire Drills

Forgot about this little nugget of racist gold until yesterday, while at the bar with Blair. We were talking about kidnapping one of our friends for her birthday and I said something like, "Yeah and we'll blindfold her and do Chinese fire drills!" at which point he asked what that was. In case you were somehow allergic to cars and fun when you were 15, here's an explanation: When the car is stopped at a light, everyone gets out and runs around it then tries to jump back in before the light changes. It's also fun to try and drive away without the slowest (read: fattest) person and then say it's because they were weighing you down.

Anywho, I was trying to remember what made it so race-tastic, so I checked it out on Wiki: "...the expression "Chinese fire drill" entered the English language as meaning a large confused action by individuals accomplishing nothing." Ouch! Sorry, Orientals.

I feel like the P.C. Police will be all over this any day now, like how school teachers are not allowed to tell kids to sit "Indian Style" anymore, so get your drills in while you can. If you don't have a car, try it in a cab, the drivers like that. If they give you shit you can always just say hey, at least I got back in.

Awesome Bands I Would Never Bone

Jenny and I like to write about dudes we find repulsive but would still do the nasty with, but here's my list of bands I love but would never considering getting naked for. I get a boner just thinking about sexy times with musicians, so this list is totally relevant for those of you who give a fuck about my taste in men.

1. Girls. These guys are the bee's knees! They're probably my favorite band of 2009, but as Andrew said to me the other day, "Too bad they're fugly." Indeed.

2. Deerhunter. Blah blah blah Brandon Cox has Marfan Syndrome, blah blah blah the same disease as Joey Ramone, blah blah blah I still wouldn't hit it.

3. Jay Reatard. This one I'm actually on the fence about. Taken as a whole this band is bluh, but then again I love them so much and would totally let Jay do all sorts of dirty things to me. We'll put this one in the "maybe" pile.

4. Pink Mountaintops. I think it's a general rule that dudes from the Pacific Northwest are bearded and gross. It's also true that bands on my favorite label, Jagjaguwar, are bearded and gross. So according to the rules of SAT questions, any band from the Pacific NW that also happens to be on Jagjaguwar got beaten to death with an ugly stick.

5. Kiss. I never thought I'd hear myself saying that dudes look better the more makeup they have on.

It Happens.

Here's an idea I have in the works for a movie:

A group of four friends decide to venture out to Coney Island for the evening, to catch the last Brooklyn Cyclones game of the season. They are having a great time, it's a beautiful night, they're boozing it up at the game, heckling the players and take some hilariously inappropriate pictures with the mascots. There's fireworks! And Cyclone rides! And skeeball! They go on the Wonder Wheel and are thinking life really is the monkey's nips.

Around 2am, after a tequila shot or two at a bar on the boardwalk, they decide it would be a fantastic idea to go skinny-dipping. Two of them strip buck naked right before running into the water, another leaves his clothes at the boardwalk with his girlfriend and streaks down the beach naked before diving in. The water feels glorious! There's a full moon and the ocean is as calm as a baby on Xanax.

After swimming for awhile, they run out of the water to go get dressed. What they hadn't noticed, while frolicking in the sea, is the giant beach-combing trucks roaming the sand and scooping up everything in their path. Including all of their clothing.

And here's where it gets good; this all actually fucking happened to me, Andy, Chris & Nicky on Friday night. A truck on the beach at Coney Island ate all of our shit. I'm talking bra, underpants, shoes, and Andy's wallet, keys and cell phone.

You are probably wondering what we did. Well. We freaked out and ran around naked for awhile, trying to find our stuff. Fun fact: there are a surprising amount of people hanging out on the beach at nearly three am! Thankfully, Chris was the one who had left his clothes with Nicky at the boardwalk and for whatever reason, had decided to bring an exorbitant amount of shirts on our excursion. He gave me a t-shirt that I attempted to cover up with, Andy wrapped Nicky's see through sweater around his waist. We flagged down a truck and asked where all the stuff they find goes and somehow after about half an hour, Andy's jeans and my cutoffs were produced. That was it.

Took a cab back from Coney to Andy's house in Fort Green, at which point we obviously had to stay up until dawn, trying to drink away the most ridiculous night of my life. There were many, many unbelievable pictures documenting this night and I would post them except Optimus Prime made off with my camera too.

I rode my bike home the next morning barefoot and bra-less. Don't think I will be able to top that walk of shame for awhile.

Friday, September 4, 2009

What Happens In Vegas

Jenny's been holding it down while I was in Vegas this past week. Yes, Vegas. I went for work but lots of weird shit happened that is making me reconsider my lifestyle choices. Here are some highlights:

- Made out with a dude at the bar of the Hard Rock Hotel ...which is in the middle of the casino. I don't remember this happening but the next day I was walking around with my coworker and asked him "why do I have a vague feeling that I kissed someone last night?" His response, "because you did." Then I ran into the guy. Awkward.com.

- Went swimming in my underwear. This is not so weird except for the fact that I was at a party and the only other people swimming were 3 of my coworkers, including my boss.

- Went to a strip club. Again, not so weird but I was with 3 other dudes and they bought me a lap dance. Afterwards the stripper and I proceeded to discuss our love of horses. The conversation ended with her saying, "shit I wish you were gay because I have the perfect person to set you up with." Yup.

- Had my boobs touched by 3 different guys. This is actually pretty funny. The first one was the guy I made out with, but the night after I made out with him. I was in the pool in my underwear at the time. I let it slide since we played tonsil hockey. The second was my boss and an accident as he reached over to grab my cigarette. After it happened he leaned in and whispered, "I just touched your boob." The third time was really amazing because it was late night after the party when we were all at my hotel pool AND it was a pro-skater. He swam next to me, did a little brush-by and went "oh I'm sorry, I thought this was a breast stroke competition." I geeked out so much that I texted my ex-boyfriend about it. True story!

Thursday, September 3, 2009

Levi Johnston

Time to let this skeleton out of the closet: I think Levi Johnston is all kinds of crazy hot. I have been keeping this one under wraps for some time now, out of fear of public shaming and verbal spankings (Inside joke: Goddammit, Shanon) by my peers. But today Andrew sent me a link to his recent Vanity Fair shoot and said "This boy is so hot" so I feel justified in coming clean about my lady boner for this caribou-hunting redneck jock.

His baby is probably the first sign of the apocalypse and I'm not sure if he's legal or barely legal and I don't even care. Never thought I would be into high school drop-out electricians who live in Alaska and may or may not have sexed up Kathy Griffin, but when I look at this picture, all I want to do is take long walks on the beach with him and talk about our terrible tattoo decisions. And do it.

Wednesday, September 2, 2009

People You'd Think I Wouldn't Go For

I like to think I have discriminating taste in menfolk, but some people I would totally get busy with, against all odds. Since Shanon is off in Vegas, busy sending me texts at five am about doing drugs in limos, thought I would share a few of my head-shakingly shameful choices. In honor of her and the new husband I'm hoping she manages to procure at an Elvis wedding chapel on a dare, here goes:

1. Redheads.*
I am inexplicably attracted to these freaks. They are freckly, get sunburnt like no one's business and I have never known one that hasn't turned out to be bat-shit nuts. And I can't get enough. Is it because I heard that they are becoming extinct, like dinosaurs and Boku? Who knows, but I guess I've got to fill my quota while I can.
*Shanon and Gavin, you are excluded from this category. My love for you knows no bounds, but it is purely platonical.

2. Patrick Swayze. Point Break Swayze? Yes, please. Ghost Swayze? Uh huh. Dirty Dancing Swayze? You bet. Donnie Darko Swayze? Fuck no, that shit is terrifying, but all other aforementioned Swayzes are so banging I get more hot flashes than my menopausal Mom when I watch his movies.

3. Wiggers.
Yeah, this one came as a shock to me too. Our friend Emily informed me that I struck up a conversation with one at the bar last weekend, which prompted Shanon to yell, "You love wiggers!" and proceed to fill me in on numerous other occasions this has taken place. It's not that I don't find wiggers hilarious, because I do, but they are pretty high on my list of Dudes I Pray I Will Never Wake Up Next To.

4. Charlie Sheen.
You know you would have to double, possibly triple bag it and then jump in a pool of bleach after since homeboy loves his hookers, but it just might be worth it. Sure, his awful show "Two And A Half Men" makes me want to gouge my eyes out with my spork on every plane ride I take, but "Hot Shots" Parts One & Deux? Sigh.

5. Bill Murray, present day. Someone actually got mad at me for saying I would hit it with Billy Murray. He may not have whatever looks he had going for him in Stripes anymore, but he's funny as fuck and if you don't at least get a semi when he sings karaoke in "Lost In Translation," then you are not human. Totally missed my chance last year when he showed up at my friend's Halloween party and even though I was dressed as Michael Jackson, (ahead of my time, I know) had already fallen on the coffee table and lost my shoes, I still would have taken a stab at it. I aint' afraid of no ghost.