Monday, December 21, 2009


For the past 18 years or so, my parents' Christmas gift to my brother and me has been money, to make sure everyone in our family knows what they're worth. Every December my Mom is all, "Seriously, don't expect anything under the tree this year, kids" and immediately after begins to feel guilty and will go out and buy us small things that we, in turn, pretend to like, lest we hurt her feelings. But there have been a few seasons where I flat out refused to participate in this charade, gifts being the following:

1. A keychain that doubles as a voice recorder. Now, the purpose of this, is to help you remember where you parked the car when you drive to the mall,airport, etc. When I reminded my Mom of the fact that I hadn't owned a car for at least the past six years, her response was, "Well I know you like to get pretty drunk..." Nothing says Merry Christmas like your Mom thinking you are so much of an alkie that you have trouble remembering WHERE YOU LIVE.

2. Pajama pants. You're probably thinking, "What's wrong with pajama pants? Who doesn't like spending their Sundays laying around and watching porn in a pair of these?" And you would be correct, because I certainly do, but hear me out.

I pack lightly when I travel and sleep in my underpants 97% of the time, so I see no point in taking up valuable smuggled drugs space with sleepwear. When I visit my parents, I just grab a pair of my Dad's pajama pants to go lay on their couch and watch TV in, as has been the case for many years. Last Christmas, my Mom pulled the usual, "I mean it, NOTHING under the tree" and so I was surprised to find a solitary package for me, from my Dad.

Thoughtful Dad-O had taken a pair of his old pj pants and gift-wrapped them. They weren't even washed first. He had no idea why I gave him a are you fucking kidding me look and honestly thought I liked his old, mens, humungous, ratty pair so much that I would rather have them than my own. Now, this was endearing on some level, but you have to admit, a normal parent would just go to fucking Walmart and buy their kid their very own sweatpants.

3. I'm going to look into my crystal ball for a mo, and give the third spot to this year's present and I don't even know what it is yet. What I do know is that my parents were in Florida, driving past a K-Mart that was going out of business, so they stopped and picked up something for me that was reduced 75% off, making the grand total $0.79. My Dad called me laughing to tell me that was the only present I was getting.

Friday, December 18, 2009

Dirty of the Day

The other night, I had some apres work cocktails with my former employer and coworker. I haven't seen them in a solid two years and I forgot how batshit crazy and awesome my old boss, Hamilcar (real name) is. He is fairly racist, told me that he pictured me coming to meet them and weighing 240 pounds (thanks?) and comes off as more than a little gay, as was made apparent by the male hooker that solicited him as we were leaving. He also loves tits, makes statements like, "I'm done with the Puerto Ricans" and slipped a steak knife into my purse one time from a nice place we were eating at, to keep in the office for "protection."

After about three martinis, I started reminiscing about the good old days and was reminded of one of my favorite times with Hamilcar. A few years back, Shanon and I went out with him to the Paramount Hotel where his buddy was the manager. All food and beverages were comped, so of course everyone proceeded to get toe up on espresso martinis and other ridiculous drinks. The night was mostly a blur, except for two things that are clear as a bell:

1. Shanon standing up and yelling "HAMIL JUST STUCK HIS TONGUE DOWN MY THROAT!" I found this hilarious, mostly because it was true.
2. Shortly after, Shanon dropped her phone in the toilet. Then got mad at said phone and threw it down 46th Street.

The Graham Bell is when a guy has sex with a girl doggy style, and then half way through, stops and says he needs to use the bathroom. A friend then sneaks in to switch places with the original guy. After a few minutes of this, the original guy then calls the girl and gets her to pick up while his friend is banging her, and talks to her. On the phone. Hence the Graham Bell, as in Alexander Graham Bell, inventor of the telephone. Compliments of my buddy Christopher Killjoy.

Thursday, December 17, 2009

Boner of the Day

Andy from Parks and Rec! Or Chris Pratt, if you will. He's kind of like a chubby Christian Bale mixed with that other bear from The Office.

FIrst Class

That is the title of the impending porn that my room mate and I are going to write together.

Plot: 2 pilots and 2 stewardesses used to all share a one bedroom apartment where they would stay between flights. But once the recession hits they all lose their jobs and have to share one bed (gasp!). Boning ensues.

The end.

Wednesday, December 16, 2009


Got teabagged in the face with a case of these today, as my previous posts have shown. This is most likely due to the events of last night that Shanon described and I'ma go ahead and blame my new secretary Gandy (he has been responding to texts from my phone as I dictate, including one to Shanon that said "Andrew is a dicknose") for all of this.

I invited him over before the party and said "bring booze!" and never in a million years did I think he would actually do it. Lo and behold, he brought a liter of vodka, which we drank almost all of. I tried explaining to Shanon that this was necessary:

Me: It was like seeing bigfoot
No one would believe me unless I got drunk off the booze
Like no one will believe you saw bigfoot unless you take pic
Shanon: I was gonna say, what is that comparable to
Having bigfoots babee
Me: Just like
Shanon: Shut up

Whilst we cocktailed it up, we watched the following video. Who knew meth labs could be so much fun!

Office Holiday Parties

I am so hungover today that all I can handle listening to is Beyonce’s “Halo” and boy choirs. Seriously, boy choirs. Jenny and Gandy are in same boat and have been chatting me musings such as how they feel like they’re going to poop their pants and how they literally just googled the word “food” in a retarded attempt to order lunch online. (I will leave it to you readers to figure out who said what).

How did I get so wasted? One minute I was riding the drunk train making all local stops, then suddenly I was on the black out express heading straight to the next morning in my bed and holy shit I was supposed to be at work 30 minutes ago. I’m just stoked that my lamps were all in once piece this morning.

Anyway we’re on for round 2 of office holiday parties tonight with Gandy’s. Last night was mine. Gandy disappeared early on with Jenny’s iPhun and texted me from it with cryptic messages like “I’m in a trunk no shit,” and “I’m in a dark place. I am a lil freaked out but they say I’ll be back.” Then there was Jenny who I abandoned shortly after she started repeating the same thing to me over and over. This morning I found out from coworkers that she was going around introducing herself to them by saying, “Do you know Shanon? She’s probably your boss.” Holiday parties really bring people together.

Chicks I Respect But Could Never Be Buddies WIth

I saw this post on Street Carnage the other day and am jumping on that wagon. There are numerous people whom I respect (artistically speaking) but would never want to hang out with lest I would end up beating them to death.

Lady Gaga
I'm not gonna lie that I think her music's tight. Plus she writes all that shit herself, which is practically unheard of anymore among female pop musicians. Talent, I believe is the legitimate word for what she has. But man, if I ever had to hang out with her I would probably kill myself. If I took her to a house party she would show up in those crab claw high heels with a garbage bag for a dress and netting over her face. Then she'd talk about asphyxiation and big dicks all night as though anyone in their right mind would actually want to fuck her. No, doing anything in public would definitely be out. Just look at this chick here, she is clearly terrified and they're just walking down the street.

Sinead O'Connor
She so crazy! I could never invite this chick to my house cause she'd just talk about how the Roman Catholic church is full of Nazis. And you know if she was hanging out with me and my buddies she's do something weird and/or gross that would probably involve tampons. She's a total wild card and not in a funny It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia way. But shit, "Nothing Compares" is one of my top 10 favorite songs of all time.

Kirsten Dunst
Drop Dead Gorgeous and Bring It On? Clearly two of the best movies ever created by man. And Kirsten Dunst was so good in both of them! She's like a muse, really. But hang out with her? No fucking way. I saw her at an SNL after-party once. We were both outside smoking a cigarette and I thought she was gonna flick hers in my eye. I'm sure she could drink me under the table, which is cool, but then she'd probably spend all night telling me about which hot musician she spent the last weekend with, having sex and eating burritos no doubt, and I'd have to kill her.

Dirty of the Day

Fish are kind of stupid and I don't see the appeal of having one as a pet. You can't play with them or pet them, they don't do funny things like cats and they're not particularly cute. Cleaning their bowls or aquariums is a bitch too. And I eat fish sometimes and think something is not right about owning a pet you would pair with some saki and eat on the regs.

A few years back, my ex boif and I acquired a fish, not by choice, but we took him in, figuring he would last a few months. It was one of those Japanese "fighting fish" and it was fun to hold a mirror up to him and make him get all puffed up and think he was about to do battle with another fish. It was really just his reflection though! Stupid fish. We named him Johnny Lottacock. Motherfucker lived for two years.

The Fish Eye - From behind, you shove your finger in her ass (or his if you are in prison). Thereupon she turns around in a one-eyed winking motion to see what the hell you are doing. Thanks, Andy.

Morning Make Outs

Dear People Making Out On The Train At 8:45AM,
Get fucked. I really hate you. It is far, far too early for me to have to watch your love blossom. I am tired and the voice in my head sounds like this, "eggandcheesesandwicheggandcheesesandwicheggandcheesesandwich" and I really don't appreciate that thought train making local stops at Morningwood Junction.

Now, have I been guilty of this in the past? Perhaps. Is it okay when I do it? Sure. Is it okay when you do it? Shit no. On second thought, keep making out. That way I can punch you both in the head at the same time.

Not In The Mood,

Monday, December 14, 2009


Shanon mentioned some of her weirdo fears awhile back, but as of late, I have been getting a ton of shit from people about some "Irrational" fears of my own.

Slipping on wet leaves. My Mom always used to warn me about falling on "black ice" in the Wintertime. But what's even scarier than my Mom's racism, is wet leaves. I tend to walk around with my hands in my pockets when it's cold, since gloves don't really do anything for me and I am terrified of stepping on one these slippery assassins and busting my face and/or ass, which leads us to the following phobia.

Knocking out a front tooth. Three friends of mine have done this (Shanon being one, of course) and I can't shake the feeling that I am on deck. Now this is not a good look for girls, but is it me or does being minus one tooth make the dude twice as hot? If you do happen to find yourself out a tooth, what you're supposed to do is have a friend put it in their mouth for transport until you get to the emergency room. This makes sense in theory, but I don't even like sharing toothbrushes with most of my friends, so I would probably just tell them to keep it.

Heights. Don't see how this is a dumb fear at all and people who claim that the thought of plummeting to their death doesn't scare them are lying. Everyone's all, "Don't you want to go skydiving? It's the best thrill ever!" And my answer is no, no I do not. I can get a thrill by driving a car while wearing a blindfold, but you don't see me doing that shit either, which sounds about as logical as jumping the fuck out of an airplane. I'll "live dangerously" the way God intended; shared needles, sex with hookers and Russian roulette.

Chewing gum while riding my bike and choking on it.
Potholes aint no joke in this town and I always imagine hitting one and taking some Hubba Bubba to the windpipe. Or worse, swallowing the gum (shudder).

The dark.
You know what's about 400 times more likely to happen at night then during the day? Anything scary. Them's just facts.

Boner of the Day

Hot Chip! They are the handsomest bunch of ugly dudes I've ever wanted to bone. And yes I will bone each and every one of them. Here's their new video for the upcoming single, "One Life Stand."

Hot Chip - One Life Stand (MySpace Exclusive)

Hot Chip | MySpace Music Videos

It's Official, I Am Adopted

Syke, I wish! But seriously it would really be the icing on the cake to the miserable mother-daughter relationship I've got going on. On Saturday I received a package from said woman. Inside of it was a fuzzy pink scarf, a fuzzy pink hat, a portable CD case with the word "love" written on the front, $20 to Barnes & Noble, and $50 in cash. I called her back, stunned, only to find out that this box full of monstrocities was meant to be my Christmas present. It was December 12th, nothing was wrapped and there wasn't even a note.

I told her in no uncertain terms to please refrain from buying me clothes anymore and did she think I was 15? I am almost 28. My favorite color is black. I haven't purchased a CD in well over 5 years. I came out of this woman's vagina? Dear Santa, for Christmas I would like to find out that I was adopted. This would make my life so much easier. Thank you.

Sunday, December 13, 2009

Why I Don't Have a Boyfriend

I'm currently camped out on my sofa watching LOtR: Return of the King. When the beacons of Minas Tirith were lit I got all emotional and then accidentally knocked over my veggie tso's chicken. Yeah, that shit got all over the carpet. And guess what? I am still eating it. I also just realized that my muumuu is inside out. I'm available, boys!

Speaking of which, look at how bizanging Eomer is.

Friday, December 11, 2009

Christmas Carols

The other day Jenny was complaining about something or other having to do with people who are nerds but try to hide it. Being a huge nerd myself, I casually asked her if she felt this way about moi (hint: this is a trick question! I care not what Jenny thinks of me). Her response was, "No, totally not. You don't try to hide that shit. You wave your Harry Potter flag high and proud."

And here's another flag I will proudly wave all over your face - I love me some fucking Christmas carols. I mean LOVE. My grandmother used to have this cassette of the London boys choir singing Christmas jawns and it was my favorite! Remember in Home Alone when Kevin goes to the church to pray for his family back, and then the clock strikes 9pm and he has to run home to protect his shit from the Wet Bandits? That scene right there, my friends, is the reason "Carol of the Bells" if my favorite Christmas song. Believe that. Here's the acapella group, Straight No Chaser, singing it. I will save my musings on this band and their epic name for another blog.

Dirty of the Day

When I started this section of the blog, I was really counting on Gandy to come through with some epic sexisms, seeing as I get 9am texts like this from him on the regs:

"I hope Lady Gaga gets gang banged."

"Did you know that Mountain Dew is an old term for whiskey?"

"I love it when boys wear Jansport backpacks. It's like a hot white trash boy in high school."

Last night I was giving him shit about his lack of material and off the cuff he busted out the Carne Estrada. The beauty of this lies in its simplicity; you fuck a Mexican and then ask him for chips and salsa. And by "simplicity" I meant racism. Bueno.

Photo of the Day

I have been staring at this jam all morning. I've also sent it to about 5 different people. It just makes me so happy! It also reminds me of one of my favorite scene from Parks and Rec.

Wheels, A Breakdown

Last night Jenny and I had a very serious discussion on how the amount of wheels a dude is riding can change their hotness (for better or for worse). Allow me to elaborate:

1 wheel - You see a guy on a unicycle and you can only think one thing - carnie freak. What kind of person wakes up one day and decides that they want to learn how to ride around on one wheel? Future rapists and clowns, that's who.

2 wheels - It's a scientific fact that any dude on two wheels is instantly hotter. Motorcycles definitely but bicycles especially. I don't think I've ever seen a dude riding down the street that I didn't give the ol' "heh-row" eyes to.

3 wheels - Pedo! Only kids ride that shit. This dude is clearly another victim of hot children.

4 wheels - Yes skater, I will have sex with you. This could also be cars, in which case I will also accept because cars take me to places like Queens so's that I can get dim sum. Last night when we got to 4 wheels, Jenny's immediate response was "tractors, kinda hot." And I said, "or cars maybe." Then she got all quiet and went "oh right."

8 wheels - This means rollerblader, in which case dude better ready to tell his parents that he's a 'mo.

Thursday, December 10, 2009

Dirty of the Day

Okay, gonna try and bury my last post, since according to the Blog Nazi, "YOUR POST IS SO WRONG. I mean, Jesus." Another Dirty of the Day it is.

There was a girl I went to high school with who broke her foot senior year. There was some story she told me about how it happened, but we all know who was responsible - Road Head. Apparently she was shifting gears on her man and he crashed into something, hence the broken foot. Ever since then, I have been too scared to give head in any moving vehicle. Except maybe a hot air balloon, that would be safe except I am so afraid of heights I'd probably hurl.

Until I discovered Volcano Head. This is when two people (male and female) go to taco bell and the female orders a volcano taco and puts five packs of fire sauce onto it. After consuming, the female gives the male road head on the ride home. Fire up that balloon.

Gay Masseuses

Got my nails did last night and everything was on the level until we got to the part where the manicurist does the moisturizer/mini hand massage. I never really know where I'm supposed to look when they do this, so I opted for the T.V.  The massage was going on for a bit longer than usual and when I turned and faced the chick I was met with a dreamy smile and a set of rape eyes that could put mine to shame. The rest of my manicure was spent wondering if she was a bo and trying not to inadverdantly flirt with her, lest she get the wrong idea and offer me a complimentary brazillian wax.

Then I got to thinking about gay masseuses and what the deal is with that. Do they test for the gay before they hire these people? There's probs all kind of discrimination rules against that sorta thing, so it would have to be done on the downlow. Like playing the "Chicago" soundtrack while interviewing a potential gay fella and then leave to check on something and have a spy watch to see if he sings along or chair dances. As for the questionable clam diver, I suppose they could flash pictures of Rosie O' scare them straight! I slay me. Also dunno where I was going with this, it's been a long day. The end.

Kathy Bates Moments

I'm no Annie Wilkes, but Jenny recently pointed out to me that I have developed the creepy habit of writing fan letters to, well, people that I am fans of. When did this happen to me?

It all started in 2003 when Nicky and I went to Europe together. Our final destination was Rome as her family was congregating there due to the fact that her grandmother was working on "The Life Aquatic." I was a nutso fan of Wes Anderson at the time so I wrote him a letter for Nicky's granma to pass along. I don't remember exactly what I wrote but I DO remember asking, "If you could be any animal, what would you be?" I was 21, by the way, not 8. The great shame of my life (which I can't believe I'm about to reveal) is that he did NOT write me back.

Now let's fast forward to last year when I wrote to Steve Toltz (not to be confused with Steve Holt!), author of A Fraction of the Whole. I asked him if he was anything like Martin Dean, father of the main character. Then surprise! He wrote me back. Two words - No comment.

More recently I wrote to Nick Harkaway, author of my current favorite book, The Gone-Away World. I told him what a big fan I was and that (at the risk of sounding creepy) I would love to get a drink next time he's in NY. What's the big deal about that? And guess what he actually wrote back! Cha-ching! (Photo of him below)

Hello, Shanon!

Really glad you liked the book, and thank you for dropping me a line. I'm trying to finish the second one even now - hence my slightly tardy response - and having a whale of a time (between bouts of sulfurous swearing when I can't get something to work.)

Not creepy at all, by the way. We don't get out to NYC all that often, but I'm sure there'll be a moment some time in 2010. I'm definitely going to pay a visit to the Word bookshop in Brooklyn and some other places - I may have to have some sort of mass meet-up in a bar or something. Def come by Twitter if you're of a mind - nice way to meet people before meeting, as it were.


Boner of the Day

Speaking of Romulans, today's boner is Eric Bana. I never really found his man charms attractive before, but then he played that psycho Nero in Star Trek and he was all sorts of sexy. Christ I think I may have daddy issues.


People in both Norway and China recently saw a spiral phenomenon in the sky. It's possibly just some new astral shit that no one's ever seen before, but I saw the new Star Trek and I know what this fucker really is - Romulans.

Here's a Chinoise video about the spiral of our impending doom. I sent it to Jenny with the preface, "Listening to Chinese soothes me." Her response? "Unless they are yelling." Quite right.

(The invasion begins around :52)

Dirty of the Day

Since I slept on yesterday's D.O.D., here's a double dose for today, which came about in an interesting fashion.

A new buddy of mine, Christopher, recommended The Stranger which is when you lay on your arm so as to deny the passage of blood and ultimately lose feeling in the limb, followed by the act of masturbation with said limb. This seemed somewhat vanilla, I mean, it sounds very similar to batting lefty to make it feel like someone else, but then Andy came along and recommended The Stranger too. I told him he was the second person to make that suggestion, so he hit me with the New York Chili Dog: To deficate in a runny manner on a girl's chest, and then titty-fuck her. I am siting at my desk with my head in my hands in shame after typing that. (Not really, this shit is hilarious.) But chili dogs are gross and I am freakin' starving.

Anyways, at about one in the morning last night, I received a text from Bennie that said only "NEW YORK STYLE HOT DOG" which I will go out on a limb and say is similar, if not the same scenario. Great minds, thinkin alike.

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

Boner of the Day

All the dudes on Epicly Later'd. Seriously this site is like a personalized boner book.

Boys Are Guh-Ross

Last night I had dinner with an old coworker of mine who actually laid me off over the summer (well THAT sounds dirty, don't it?). I hated him for a while but now we're back on the mend because, let's face it, I'm too lazy to hold grudges forever. That shit is exhausting.

I did, however, inform him that he needed to pay for dinner. Then we would be even-stevens. Note to impending people that piss me off: I will forgive anything for a free meal. Anyhoot, he acquiesced and then showed up drunk. It was awesome.

Things took a turn for the worse, though, when he emerged from his 3rd trip to the bathroom and said to me, "Shanon, I need to tell you something" as I was going in.

"Oh god," I said, "did you leave me a present in the toilet? That's nasty."

"No no," he laughed, "there are two vases in the corner of the bathroom. I totally peed into one."

And I wonder why I'm not hanging out with the likes of hot mature boys in French pop bands. Every dude I know is a mere drunk-decision away from getting peeing-Calvin tattoed on their ass.

Tuesday, December 8, 2009

Boner of the Day

Been sleeping on this one as of late. Sincerest apologies!

You know who I totally want to bone? Laurent Brancowitz from Phoenix, that's who. He makes me want to be mature and do nerdy things like talk about the New Yorker while drinking Cote Du Rhone, watch Les Paul movies, hang out at nude beaches and have sex for 10 hours straight. Wait, why am I not doing those things right now?

(p.s. Deck D'Arcy on the right's pretty bonable too)

Dirty of the Day

Breakfast is by far my favorite meal. Everyone knows that brunch rules, since it encourages day drinking which is normally frowned upon, but what's really my jam is Brinner. Best of both worlds.

You can imagine my excitement when I stumbled upon the Boner Breakfast: When a female gives a male a blowjob through a pancake. I like this one because everybody kinda wins.

I once lost a bet to my ex boif, don't remember what it was about, but the terms were that if he won, I had to cook him chocolate chip pancakes while wearing stiletto heels and a leotard. Well, I lost and since every so often I am a woman of my word, I held up my end of the bargain. On the other hand, I hate losing and expressed my sentiments by literally making him eat a dick.

Home Alone

This is my favorite holiday movie ever! I watched it all the time when I was a kid and I'll be damned but I watch it every time they play a marathon of it on TBS. Kevin was truly full of wisdom. Here are some of my favorite quotes.

"This house is so full of people it makes me sick. When I grow up and get married, I'm living alone." I hate my family too, Kev-dawg, and will most assuredly try to avoid my future husband at all costs.

"A lovely cheese pizza, just for me." Seriously there is nothing better than a delicious pizza all to ones self. Kevin is like a young Buddha.

"Guys, I'm eating junk and watching rubbish! You better come out and stop me!" I too find myself yelling this out when I do awesome things. Mine are more along the lines of booze and drugs, but I always dare my mom to stop me, rhetorically speaking of course. LET HER TRY IT.

"No clothes on anybody. Sickening." Too right, Kevie. Naked people are guh-ross. Unless that person is Taylor Lautner.

"Buzz, your girlfriend! WOOF!" I can't really apply this line to my own life but it's hilarious, none the less.

Caught In The Act

My roomie is a bit of an enigma, wrapped in a puzzle, tied together with a conundrum bow. He's not unattractive (re: cute), and he works at a bike shop (re: even cuter), but he's a total stoner, keeps a statue of ganesh out in our living room, and is addicted to video games. I love him regardless, but this past weekend he sent us an email that said he had an extra charge of $15 on the next cable bill. I figured he watched a few movies on demand. Wrong, he watched ONE movie. Here is the bill.

I asked my coworker if I should give him shit for this and he said, "Yes, especially if it has a hilarious title." Sadly they didn't put that. But I figure if someone's willing to wank off in the living room to a porn that he bought on the communal TV and cable bill, then he must not really give a shit right?

So, in retaliation I sent him an email that says, simply, "Hey, you! Let's not make a habit of watching porn in the living room, hmmmm?" Straight to the point.

12 Days of Christmas

This is one of my least favorite carols cuz there's too much counting, and Math and remembering shit are not my fortes, especially after I have knocked back a few eggnogs. This song baffles me even whilst sober though, since I have mixed feelings about my True Love presenting me with the following:

1st Day - Partridge in a Pear Tree. Are partridges like pigeons? That's how I picture them and I see enough of those mangy fuckers. Pears are cool with me, but a whole tree seems like overkill.

2nd Day - Two Turtledoves. What the hell is a turtledove? Some kind of bird/turtle hybrid? It would be invincible! They could attack from sea or land and has built in armour to hide in. I would pay good money to see a cockfight featuring Turtledoves.

3rd Day - Three French Hens. Throw these froggies in the ring too! They would obviously wear little berets and stripes. See how these Monsieurs measure up against the Turtledoves of Doom.

4th Day - Four Calling Birds.
Okay, enough with the birds. Is this "true love" Alfred Hitchcock or what.

5th Day - Five Golden Rings. Now were talking. I'd wear four on my right hang and one on the middle finger of my left, to flip off ringless poor people.

6th Day - Geese A-Laying. Geese are so useless. They better come with a gift receipt.

7th Day - Swans A-Swimming.
Swans are much easier on the eyes than geese, but I hear thay're none too friendly. And also, really? More goddamn birds? At this point I would start to seriously question if my true love was an Avianophile.

8th Day - Maids A-Milking.
Milking what, is what I'd like to know. Milking what.

9th Day - Ladies Dancing. Strippers! Best XXXmas ever! But nine is a whole lot, this spells catfight with a capital Me-Yow.

10th Day - Lords A-Leaping. What would Christmas be without the gheyz.

11th Day - Pipers Piping. I bet they are laying some pipe, with all these dancing ladies and milkmaids running around.

12th Day - Drummers Drumming.
Over Christmastime a few years back, my Dad somehow talked me into watching that Nick Cannon movie "Drumline" with him. Instead of all these drummers, I think I would rather ask my true love for those two hours of my life back.

What I also don't get is do all of these people work for me now? Or is it a one night stand dealie. I'm not trying to pawn my Golden Rings to pay for workerman's comp and child support for any illegitimate bastard milk-maid babies.

Thanks for this pic Gandy.

Monday, December 7, 2009

Dirty of the Day

I have had a serious case of the Mondays today, not even leaked shots of Levi Johnson's Johnson in Playgirl was cheering me up. I shared my feelings about today with Andy, who responded, "I have a case of hepatitus." My lack of response/concern prompted him to send me this Dirty of the Day.

Dog in a Bathtub - This is a proper name for when you attempt to insert your nuts into a girl's ass. It is so named because it can be just as hard as keeping a dog in the tub while giving it a bath.

Sir Fur

When I was little, I was really into cats. Stuffed animals, posters and begging my parents for real ones. The problem is, our family has never really had good luck with cats and this was best demonstrated by Sir Fur. I was about five when we got Surf and I don't remember where or how we acquired him, but I loved the crap out of that cat. He was cute and fluffy and could not figure out that he was supposed to piss in the litter box instead of randomly all over the house to save his life.

He particularly liked to water the hall closet, where we kept all of our coats, shoes, etc. One day, my Mom decided to take my brother & me to the Philly zoo. The whole car ride there, she kept saying, "Why do I smell cat pee?" Bear in my mind that my Mom's sense of smell is akin to that of a bloodhound, but cat urine is crazy stinky and I smelled my coat and mittens and they checked out , so I ignored her. We got to the zoo and were walking to the entrance when my Mom leans over, sniffs my head and grabs my winter hat off of me and throws it in the trash can. Sir Fur had apparently peed in the ski hat I had been wearing all morning. The rest of the zoo trip consisted of my brother making fun of me and my head stinking worse than the reptile house. I think that was Surf's last hurrah, the vet told us he had brain damage and was never going to be litter trained, so we ended up giving him away to go live on a farm.

Whenever I go to the zoo now, I always remember to pour a little bit of my flask out for Sir Fur, the most brilliantly named, dumbest cat there ever was.

Friday, December 4, 2009

Dirty of the Day

New York Style Taco. Apparently, my friends (Andy) are chock full of sexisms that are just bursting to come out. I made the mistake of asking a different friend (we'll call him "Bob") for one today. His response:

I can only think of horrible things
without funny names
like filling someones ass with glass...

Believe it or not, they went downhill from there. Then my boss came over to my desk to go over some changes and I thought I had hidden our chat window, which unfortunately was not the case. Yeah, right about when this was on the screen:

Bob: you said nothing
does that mean i have gone to far?
Or two cups of lard
where you fill a chicks pussy and ass with lard and then fuck it till its all gone
are you there?

This is why we are back to Andy. Ladies and gentlemen, The New York Style Taco is when you go down on a girl but you are so drunk you throw up on her box. If I had a nickel for every time...

Happy Friday everyone.

7:30 AM Texts

I don't know about you, but nothing says top o' the morning like a 7:30 am text convo with your boss. Here was mine this morning.

Me: Let me know about any changes you need me to make to that deck.
Boss: Yes of course I'll be online when you get to work.
Me: Bueno. God I think I drunk texted jokes to a boy I like last night. Bad Shanon.
Boss: Trust me boys like that
Me: They do? Ok I texted him "yo mommas so old she farts mummy dust." (Side note: This is my favorite joke)
Boss: That is an awkward yet sort of charming one as long as his mother is in good health.
Me: Ha, man I'm so terrible with the flirting.
Boss: That is flirting?
Me: Maybe ...shut up.
Boss: Is this flirting? Oh god no one will ever know when you are flirting and when you are being an oddball. Better start buying lots of cats now.
Me: I will name the first one Sir Fur. This is not flirting. (Side note: that's what Jenny's dad named their cat when she was a kid)
Boss: That was terrible.
Me: Good thing I wasn't flirting with you then. Frodo Catgins? Come on that's good.
Boss: Stop before you hurt someone.

Mr. Nazi

Heeeey look, I'm back. I was waiting until I had something really good to post and the realization that I've been called several different types of Nazi was just the ticket to get me back in the game.

Jenny was boo-hooing to me the other day after Nicky, Chris and myself called her uptight, a prude, a sleep-farter and someone who can dish it but not take. Sure we said these things all in the course of one evening, but try being compared to Hitler! He once said to Eva Braun, "All you worry about is what dress to put on, I have bigger problems on my mind." Thank you History Channel, that's exactly how I feel.

Blog Nazi - Jenny called me this last night when I tried to set some ground rules about the blog. She knows what they are and what she did to deserve das boot.

Turkey Nazi - I was dubbed this after telling Blair he was not allowed to bring muffins to my Friendsgiving. My exact response was, "Who the fuck brings muffins to a dinner party? Just bring booze." Nothing Nazi about that, in my opinion.

Food Nazi - This is obviously similar to the one above but more general. I've been called this several times, quelle surprise! I get a wee case of the fascismitus when it comes to food and dinner parties. One time I invited my friend Anthony over for dinner, knowing full well that he's the non-pork-eating type of Jew. I cooked a pork roast and it was delicious.

Book Club Nazi - I can't help it if I have opinions, ok? This was my email response to the last book club suggestion:


Seriously. Hate. I refused to finish it
in high school.

If you guys want to read it I'll sit this one out

Thursday, December 3, 2009

Dirty of the Day

The Icey Mike. Hold on to your butts, cause this one's intense. According to Andy yet again, an Icey Mike is when you take a dump, freeze it, then do a chick with it. Please don't send me your dry cleaning bills if that just made you barf down your shirt, I got my own issues to handle. Namely finding some mental soap to wash that image out of my head.

Sorry if that one was harsh. I hit up Gandy, but his were all far too racist (although I have been enjoying my daily 9am racist text message from him as of late, not gonna lie). Or maybe we'll get lucky and the blogger formerly known as Shanon will make an appearance one of these days!

Don't Belong

Shanon just sent me an interesting photo from her youth, that her elementary school soccer coach posted on Facebook. It almost made me spit my water out all over my computer, but then my laughter was silenced by how creepy I think it is that he put that pic on at all and is Facebook friending the former young girls he used to coach. Some people just do not belong on the Facebooks, such as:

Parents. Yeah I get that the baby boomers are catching on to the internets and I'm sure if I were an old I would be all up in Facebook's sack too, but in no way do I want any of my parents to be my Facebook friend. I just had to de-tag a photo of myself from Turkey day because, as my friend Mike put it "I can see booze pouring out of your eyeballs." The last thing I need is my Dad's two cents on every single move I make. I commented on my buddy Dan's post, calling him a vagina, and his Mom (who I know) commented right beneath me. Awkward dot com.

Employers. Both my bosses and I have an unspoken agreement to never ever friend request each other, even though we are all well aware that everyone's a member.

Pets and/or Babies.
These guys bring nothing to the table. Plus I have a sneaking suspicion that adults are behind this anyways.

Former Teachers. It's fine for them to be on the book, but leave me the Christ alone. I'm sure you're all sorts of curious to see what has sprouted from the seeds of knowledge you've sown into my young mind, but this is not a two way street, Professor. Besides, if I was a teacher, I would probably catch a case of the sads, looking at what some of the winners I went to school with are doing with their lives.

Chicks Who Get Married And Now Have Two Last Names.
Just fucking pick one. You don't need two. Unless you're marrying Mr. John Penisfart, ditch your last name or stick with the one you were given. Like Highlander says, "There can only be one."

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

Dirty of the Day

Our buddy Andy (no to be confused with Gandy or Andrew, try and keep up) has been dropping all kinds of new sex terms on me after reading my last post, which I in turn have been sharing with Shanon. At her suggestion, we would like to introduce a new column to you all, dubbed "Dirty of the Day."

Let's start it off with The Lumberjack. This is apparently when you shave your pubes and keep them next to the bed, cum on someone's face then throw the bush in their face... and yell LUMBERJACK!!* So fellas, it's probably wise to keep a bowl of these next to your bed, if anyone asks what it is, just say "potpourri, baby" and ask them if they wouldn't mind slipping into a flannel shirt.

*Other words can be swapped out for Lumberjack, such as Werewolf or names of any cast members of Lost.


Last night, in celebration of my boss Jayne's 50th birthday, we went out to dinner at a really nice resto down the street from our office. We took one of our clients with us, who had given Jayne a book called "Dirty Japanese" as a gift. This book is pretty much every pervy thing you ever could possibly need to say to a Japanese schoolgirl (I mean adult of legal age). There is even a whole chapter on farts, my favorite phrase being "I do not know why I relish the smell of my own farts so much."

Our client then stumbled upon the word "queef" and commented on how funny it was they included it, at which point Jayne yelled "Wait, what's a queef?" I was running on at least two martinis at this point, but there was still no way I was about to define that shit to her, so I sat crying with laughter, while Jayne kept repeating her question until finally our copywriter yelled "IT'S A PUSSYFART."

The conversation then turned to other hilarious sex terms that Jayne wasn't familiar with, so we downed martinis while Jayne googled them on her phone and read them out loud. Some highlights included: Rusty Trombone, Superman That Ho, Donkey Punch, Eiffel Tower and Dutch Rudder, but my favorite was when Jayne went, "Who is this Dirty Sanchez person?" I am very much looking forward to the inevitable moment that her ten year old daughter borrows her phone to look something up and asks her Mom what a Mushroom stamp is.

Tuesday, December 1, 2009

Advertising Gems

Last night, while reading the latest issue of National Geographic, I stumbled across this ad, which almost made me choke on my macaroni & cheese, because I am clearly: 1. Not an adult by any means, seeing as the mac & cheese I was eating was the Kraft variety and had a dinosaur on the box and I spit out a mouthful when I read the headline of this ad and 2. I am obviously not the demographic this magazine is shooting for, since this ad not only looks like it was conceptualized and written by someone 40 years my senior, but this person also is clearly not familiar with the internets and the wide array of pornography available and the equally delightful names for sex acts.

Who the fuck is gonna read all that copy? I still haven't. Assuming their target market can actually read the fine print in the first place, they have way better things to do with their time, like shuffleboard, bingo and not dying.

Sadly, I have never been on the receiving end of a pearl necklace, the real kind or the sexy kind, but only cuz I was laboring under the misapprehension that they were so expensive. This changes errrrything.