Tuesday, August 31, 2010

My Problem With Checking Out Girls' Racks

Is that I can't stop doing it. Luckily, I have a sweet rack of my own and therefore get away with it, but how do dudes not get busted for this constantly. Boobies are everywhere all the time. ESPECIALLY at the Renaissance Faire m'lady, myself, Gandy, Nicky & Cara attended this past Saturday. On mushrooms.

This day was bananas on so many different levels that I'm not even sure I can do it justice by describing the shit that happened and laugh if thou doth pleaseth, but it was hands down one of the best days of our collective lives. It started a bit grumpy, as I had stayed up til 6am the night before "talking shop" with a new friend, but by the time the joust started and I had a cup of of Meade in my hand, I was the happiest gd wench in town.

Keeping it together came first and foremost, which is no easy feat considering you're surrounded by a bunch of freaks dressed in every get-up imaginable. And such a roller coaster of emotions. You'd turn and see something crazy touching, like an innocent child playing in the mist, dappled in sunlight and under a rainbow, then turn the other direction to see a 300 pound goth chick come out of the woods dressed as a fairy with a tail and elf ears. There was literally no "safe place" to look except up, which became our happy place to go to when shit got too weird. Just look up. There were a couple of super hot dudes dressed as Robin Hoods that were pretty easy on the eyes too, not gonna lie, but I think me & Gandy's intense stalking of them blew our chances of any ren-booty we may have had.

There was a sweet pub there, which we (surprise!) spent the majority of the day at. They had "bands" playing these Lord of the Rings type jams, complete with harps and lutes and shit and at one point Shanon asked me (dead seriously) "Wait...how do I know this song?" I spit my beer out with laughter more than once that day.

Here's some sweet photos I managed to take in the window that I could still figure out/wasn't laughing too hard to operate my cameraphone and the battery died.

Seriously, racks-a-plenty.

Joust! I had no idea what the fuck was going on during this whole thing and then Nicky stood up and said, "This is the dumbest shit I have ever seen in my whole life" which was a fair analysis. 

There was a lot of this.
Human chess game! Sike, we didn't watch this, went back to the bar.
Man oh man did that sign on the right freak me out! Not so scary, in retrospect. Shut up.
Gandy and his new friend, Lady Mullett.

Ren Faires. What a trip. One of those places where it's fun to go every five years or so, but I definitely called my parents after we got back just to say thank you for not being those people.

Thursday, August 26, 2010

Musings on 90s Hip Hop

My boss just made me ride my bike with him from Williamsburg to 31st and 11th ave for a meeting. I am now gross and exhausted, thus making this the perfect time for 90s hip hop musings.

How good was that shit! It's like being permanently stoned. Yesterday a coworker was all xanaxed out and waxing poetic about Aliyah (RIP) and it made me thing about how much I love Bone Thugs - don't ask me why. Then this morning I made a Bone Thugs station on my Pandora ...and let me tell you, this shit is GOOD! I told Jenny about it and she immediately followed suit, then we spent the rest of the morning sending each other what songs were coming up. Gangsta's Paradise! I Got 5 On It! Keep Their Heads Ringin!

And I'm not just saying this because I'm from California, but West Coast hip hop is clearly the best. Bone Thugs may've been from Ohio but Easy-E signed them so they're LA as far as I'm concerned. Warren G, Dr. Dre, come on! God I feel stoned.

Wednesday, August 25, 2010

Why Pringles Are The Worst Chips

Let me preface this post by saying I Love Chips. Doritos are obviously the best, since I firmly believe they should be their own food group, but there are plenty of other delicious flavors floating around the chips seas. Just not Pringles and this is why.

They're too perfect and so I get bored. What is that saying; variety is the spice of life, but with Pringles every chip looks the same so who do they think they are, black people? And I wouldn't call my hands fat, but wtf Pringles, when I get down to the last few chips at the bottom how do they really expect me to get them without getting chip grease all over me or hurting my knuckles or possibly getting stuck and feeling like a fat kid. I am no contortionist and (for reasons unclear) still have no helper monkey with nimble fingers to fetch them for me, so what is one to do.

Not that I will ever turn them down if they are around because let's face it, chips is chips, but all I'm saying is that if someone would put them on a platter for me? It would be nice.

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

Good Band Names I Thought Up

Sike! I haven't thought of any. But here are some cool pictures I have taken lately.

Someone should pay us to make good decisions like these.

Coming to theaters Summer 2011.

This car was at Rockaway Beach, just hanging out by the taco shack, blowin' minds.

And in the back? Just a built in fish tank with two baby lobster looking things battling in it, NO BIG DEAL.

And a "No Fear" license plate.

And this freaky business is going down in my kitchen right now, this tomato I bought a few weeks ago decided to up and grow more tomatoes out of itself. I dun know what the deal is, but I feel like shit's about to get all kindsa Little Shop of Horrors up in here...

Bonerkiller of the Day

Toe rings. On anyone. Guy or girl. Man, woman, child. Yesterday, I passed by a dude sitting on a stoop smoking and sporting one of these on his flip-flopped feet. I went to make a note to myself to remember to write about my hatred of toe rings and found that I had already made one! I know me better than I know myself, sometimes. Now I am not squeamish about feet and I don't really give a shit about them, one way or another, but there is no reason I should be subjected to anyone's feet long enough that they feel the need to adorn it with jewelry and quite frankly, my fingers are fucking insulted. Next thing you know toes are gonna start getting the wrong idea about where their place is in the "big picture" and undo years of evolutionary progress.

But also, chicks wearing toe rings I in no way condone, but understand the logic behind it since we are dumb and like to bedazzle things and get hair extensions and shit, but a dude? All I am picturing is this guy getting ready to go out, looking at himself in the mirror, slipping on his toe ring and thinking to himself, "This. This right here is going to get me laid." Nodding and walking out the door.

Car Sex, We've All Had It

I don't really care to go into details of my recent trip out West other than to say I banged a hot 23 year old in a car ...and shot some guns. Incidentally I do not recommend either.

Having sex in a car is a right of passage and obviously way hard. I would say it's only acceptable under the following conditions:

1. You are under the age of 20.

2. This is a two parter - a) If your coworker is already passed out in your room and the bitch in the hotel lobby won't give you the key to another coworkers room, and b) the motel across the street is way too pricey. $129? Please.

3. You live in your car.

Obviously my excuse is packaged nicely under number 2. Gross! But seriously. It was unexpected and I do not endorse it because the next day I was covered in bruises. How embarrassing. He was totally cute though in an "is he Asian or Mexican" sort of way. I showed Jenny his pic and she dubbed him "totally my type" so I guess my type is "young minorities." I'm cool with that.

And shooting guns after a 10 day binge? Not for the faint of heart. I started shaking at one point, and my anxiety didn't lessen any with the instructor's accusatory, "What, don't you enjoy killing people?"

(Speaking of young minorities, here's some Mexican teenagers I stalked and took a photo of at Griffith Park. Yeah, that's totally my type, Jenny's got my number).

Introducing The Sammie Tat

I got back from 10 days of way too much time with my coworkers and what's the first thing I do? Get a bro tat with my lady. Most of you have probably already seen this (cause Jenny loves to put shiz up on the interwebs), but in case you haven't...

Incidentally I will be spending Christmas with Jenny and her parents YET AGAIN, and if this doesn't get them thinking we're lesbians, well then I just don't know what will. Oh wait! The dream catcher tats we're gonna get next will probably do the trick.

Monday, August 23, 2010

Is It OK To Catcall The Hot Construction Worker I Walked Past This Morning?

Methinks yes. Well, maybe not, because I was the one passing by his site. If he strolled past my desk right now I would holler. I will never understand cat calls from dudes, sometimes I walk by all crazy hungover with tangled up hair, wearing sweatpants and sunglasses and have gotten so many calls that no joke I checked to see if I forgot to put pants on. Other days I will be thinking to myself how fine I look and pass by six construction sites and four truckers and get nothing but crickets. What gives.

Hot Dog Vs. Hamburger In A Fist Fight

Shit. Shanon came back and immediately called me out on my three blog posts in the ten days she was away. I did buy Shannie a tall boy of Coors light, in return for her solitary West Coast post, but what can I say, was busy eating my weight in tacos and water ice and running into the ocean naked. Actually, I had underpants on going in, but Poseidon was angry that eve I guess, cuz he took them out to sea.

But now back to my posts, specifically who would win in a fist fight - hamburger or hot dog. You might think hamburger, because hamburgers have more weight, are compact like a tank and let's face it, an alternate name for them isn't "Weiner." But when I picture a fight, I imagine the hamburger would be much slower, whereareas the hot dog would be all dodging and weaving and be quite nimble. Plus hot dogs are made up of all kinds of weird pig parts, so they would probably just pull some bat-shit-nuts-Tyson-ear-biting maneuvers. So I am going to be in hot dog's corner on this one. Then again, the fuck do I care, only meat I'm interested in is tubesteak.

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Cartoons I Would Get Tattooed On Me...

...if it weren't so white trash. The answer to this one is; Garfield and/or Calvin & Hobbes. I grew up reading these comics and truly believe they helped shape me into the jerk I am today.

The older I get, the more often I find myself thinking am I Garfield? Because I relate to that cat more than any person I think I've ever met. He always gets me! And I feel it would be nice to honor him with a tattoo. But I just simply can't picture any instance that might occur where having a fat orange cartoon cat permanently etched on my skin will get me ahead in life.

And I would like to personally thank whoever decided the image of Calvin pissing would make an excellent decal to place on the back window of their pickup truck, right next to their "Second Place Is The First Loser. NO FEAR" sticker, because a Calvin & Hobbes tattoo would be my other cartoon pic, were it not for that redneck image that is now burned forever into my brain.

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

A Boner And A Hard Place

This is where we are stuck (uhthankyou) and John Slattery is the reason why. Gandy sent us a pic of him over the weekend, titled "Worlds Collide" and said he is at a loss for what to call Mr. Slattery, seeing as he is a Boner of Yesteryear AND a current Boner of the Day because heh-row Silver Fox.

I haven't watched "Mad Men' in a minute, but last I recall, dude got mad booty on that show from all kindsa hot secretaries and with him as my boss, I would probably pull some all-nighters at the office too, if you know what I mean and I think you do. But check him out back in the day! Welcome to Schwingtown, ladies and gents. Since I have a bit of a cold from skinny dipping at 4am over the weekend, I am not feeling creative enough to think up a sassy double-boner category name, so just enjoy the photos and one of my favorite INXS songs, where they sing about "worlds colliding."

Friday, August 13, 2010

I Love LA

Yesterday I had to take a coworker to the hospital for a fat tongue (not joking) and sit with him while he thought he had cancer. They gave him benadryl and knocked him out. That was my cue to go back to the hotel and chug a bottle of wine. Then I had to babysit some 22 year old Londoners and take them all out to dinner. What am I, momma moneybags? Then we went to some rooftop party in Hollywood and I immediately found the dudes with vicodin and took some of that because the designated driver needs to be RELAXED if anything, am I right? Then we went to some Irish pub where I kicked everyone's ass at table tennis. And finally, I made it back to the hotel and got two bottles of champagne because that is my actual medicine, doctor prescribed.

I promised I would write from LA, so that's that. I am owed one-beer by Madame Jerk. And now I have to drive to San Diego, pick up 15 cases of beer along the way, and throw a party for all my skater bros.

Does this blog make any sense? Probably not. But the doctor at the hospital yesterday was hella fine.

Thursday, August 12, 2010

Who Uses Payphones?

Not me. Payphones are the worst. I remember when I first moved here and did not have a cell phone they were only a quarter and most of them worked and that was okay. Then all a sudden they upped the price to fifty cents. Now one quarter I can probs scrounge up, but two? Who are they kidding, there is no way I am paying 50 pennies for an ear infection, when I can sleep over at certain friends' dirty apartments and catch that shit for free. And I don't get people who use them in the subways, you have about two minutes until the train zooms in and then you can't hear dick. Payphones are for drug dealers, bums and the mafia, in other words my friends but not my colleagues.The last time I used one was to call my Mom collect from jail when I got arrested on her birthday, but THAT story will have to wait for another day, jerks, because today is my Friday and I have been wearing three-D glasses at my desk and thinking about drinking some wine with ice cubes in it for the past hour. TGIT!

Why Contra Is So Fun

I have decided to blog about everything I mentioned in my Mom's Away post, because I am a woman of my word, you see. Minus that I am known to bail on most things, always. So yes, Contra on the OG Nintendo is where it's at. Other night I had the cabin fevers and so I rode over to my friend Sonny's house, to get stoned and play that shit. A little bit of this: B A Start and boom, 30 lives apiece. Which I immediately blew through and started dipping into Sonny's. We didn't make it very far, maybe to the fourth board or so,  due to toke breaks and these delicious little berry things he had that were blowing my mind all over the damn place. They're apparently called Husk Cherries and they taste like buttery little baby grape things and they rule. We made big plans to start processing them and making jam and butter and all sorts of good things and then we remembered Contra and got our heads in the game. Contra's the tits.

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

A Quickie Before I Dip Out

Why thank you, Jerk, for reminding me that I need to write about a few things before I head out West. First off, I'd like to mention the epic stoner hike that I went on this past weekend with the Poo Crew, minus Jenny, and plus Blair. It was basically a 6-mile trek in the woods upstate during which we talked about "things we could really go for" in the food department. My favorite was Nicky and Chris' discussion of the perfect pasta. Oh to be stoned in the woods. Then we did a little antiquing and I bought some 1970s porn for m'lady, a thoughtful gesture (in my opinion) which prompted Chris to dub me "Lesbian." Now I can't even request so much as a wine spritzer without him calling me that.

Now on to my next topic before I leave - Tron. I mentioned to Jenny that I watched this the other night in preparation for Tron Legacy and thus this has been added to the "nerdy things Shanon loves" pile. What. Ever. Gandy feels me on this one, am I right? Watch the trailer below and tell me this doesn't get you stoked. Jeff Bridges! I smell a boner of yesteryear.

And just for shits, here's a picture of HP's Neville Longbottom, all growned up. I sent this to Gandy as well and we both agree that with a little teef-fixin he's totally bonable.

Shanon out!

Mom's Away!

Shanon (aka Blog Nazi) is going to be traveling for the next however many days (I'm sure she told me at some point) and so this means Jenny is the new sheriff in town. I'm gonna jump on the bed, stay up all night eating candy and make prank calls to QVC because SHE IS NOT MY REAL MOM. Can't tell me what to do.

Shannie claimed that she will be road-blogging, at which point I laughed in her face and offered to buy a drink for every post she managed to cobble together, but have since retracted said offer because I do not condone spite-blogging. Nobody wins. She then told me not to make offers I can't follow through on and to "not do anything annoying." And now we're in a fight over who has more friends that are weiners (I'm winning).

So! Buckle up and let Captain Jenny steer this pleasure cruise. Things to be discussed include:
Why Contra Is So Fun, Who uses payphones? Not me, Cartoons I Would Get Tattooed On Me If It Wasn't So White Trash, Hamburger VS Hot Dog In  A Fist Fight, Is It Ok To Catcall The Hot Construction Worker I Walked Past This Morning? Methinks Yes, Good Band Names I Thought Up, Why Pringles Are The Worst Chips, My Problem With Checking Out Girls' Racks, Chicks With Butt-length Hair (Shudder), and Popsicles.

And none of the following will be mentioned:
Harry Potter, Tron, Star Trek, Battlestar Gallactica, Lord of the Rings (which Shanon recently referred to as LOTR and I am quite frankly ashamed that I knew what she was talking about, this is how much she talks about this shit) anything that has to do with anything Jane Austen was a part of. I will miss her stoned musings tho. Boner Voyage, Shanaroo!

Monday, August 9, 2010

Ghost Boners

All day I have been listening to Nick Drake, which is really unproductive when you're the only one at your office on a hot-as-nuts Monday. Why you make me so sreepy, Nick? Then I started googling pictures of him because I was really riding the fence over whether or not I would have boned down with him back in the 'Nam day and after twenty minutes later and a solid answer (Yes.) I found myself in an even bigger je ne sais pickle; what do I classify said Boner as? He is dead, you see, so therefore not technically a Boner of Yesteryear since he died when he was still foxy and had not yet come down with Saggy Balls Syndrome, but yet you can't bone him now unless you're into zombie-dong, so where is he to go.

Solution: Ghost Boners. New category, that I frankly can't believe it took this long to come up with since, as Shanon put it, "The 70s were good years for hot dudes, but not for staying alive" and this is for true since Nick Drake cashed it in when he was what, 26 or something, but lately I have been wearing my cougar-pants (more on that later) so Ima roll with it and so should you. Does he look like a chick a little bit? Sure. Am I into dudes with long hair? Hell naw, I aint trying to braid your shit. Would I still hit it? You betcha. But spend your Monday daydreaming and listening to some Pink Moon and gazing at that last picture in this post and then get on board this Ghost Boner train.

Thursday, August 5, 2010

Bonerkiller of the Day

I know I keep yapping about how much I love the new Arcade Fire album, but every rose has its thorn, my friends. And that thorn? Regine what's-her-faces fucking half gloves. What is the gahdamn deal with this. I get so bummed every time I see a photo of her wearing those monstrosities. Just looking photos up now for this very blog made my face do it's disgusted / absolutely disappointed thing it does when Jenny does shit I disapprove of. She knows what she did!

But back to Regine ...P.U. What a terrible fashion mistake turned into "This is my thing." No one should ever have a "thing" when it comes to fashion, unless it's a leather jacket on a biker/skater. Hot! Or seersucker. That shit's cool if you can turn it into your thing, but rather difficult unless you're the Colonel. I bet people make her custom ones too, which is a "what is this world coming to" for me. God I need a drink just to stop thinking about how much I hate this.

Ask Professor Velvet

I'm going to start posting Doctor Shanon's responses to my scientific queries. Today's was "Where do beer goggles come from?"Feel free to send in your own, kids.

God I Hate Bananas

I woke up around 6am this morning in my underpants on Chris & Nicky's couch, clutching the back of my calf and screaming CHARLIE HORSE. It was the absolute worst. When those strike I never know whether to lay perfectly still or to stretch it or to rub it or just cry like a little bitch. Like sex, only with less crying.

But real talk, I hate charlie horses and remembered someone telling me they're caused by lack of potassium, so I decided to go out and get myself a potass-rich banana. Problem is, I fucking hate bananas. The taste makes me want to hurl everywhere and the consistency makes me shudder. I choked about half down and then left it on my desk until it turned brown. The only acceptable foods bananas are allowed in is ones where they're so blended or mashed that you cant taste them, like smoothies or bread. But bananas are sneaky and will turn up in all kinds of foods they have no place being and like to show up and ruin perfectly good candies such as Runts. Like raisins, I can't think of one thing bananas make better. Stay out of my ice cream, away from my pancakes, and back the fuck off my oatmeal. One charlie horse a day or one banana a day; this is my Sophie's Choice.


They are in order. Shanon and I have really been riding this wave of responding to people via pictures and have taken it to the next level by using pics of animals to describe how we're feeling to one another, on days like today (ok, every day) when we are too lazy to type words.

We have since acquired quite the menagerie, so allow me to introduce you to our new friends and yours.

Let's start with a classic, the "what the fuck am I doing with my life" monkey, or as we now refer to him; Captain Walter Brainstorm. I use Walt more frequently than I would like.

Just yesterday, Shanon sent me a relative of his; "Guru Carl." We turn to Carl when we are in need of direction.

Got the booze blues? Not anymore! Why hello, "Huggles the Sloth."If anyone is ever mad at me for anything, I have this pic saved on my phone to cower behind. No one yells at Huggles.

Chris & Shanon & I were talking the other day about bunnies and how it would be nice to have a  magic bunny that made money. Here's "Sir Funny Money Bunny," hard at work. Gettin' bitches paid.

There's probably more animals somewhere on my computer but I am too lazy to go scrounge em up so I will leave you with this instead:

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

Boner of the Day

Sean Avery, who apparantly plays some sport I hear Canadians are into, called "hockey." And for my town too! I was flipping through New York magazine last night when I saw this piece at some party and immediately Google image searched the shit outta him.

Now on the ice, he has that backwoods maybeimightrapeya (kinda hot) look going, but when he steps outta them skates and slips on these nerdy black frames? He goes from rapesy redneck to sexy nerd in about twenty seconds flat and I dare you to not pop a puck or two for this dude.

How was I previously unaware that New York had such boneriffic pro athletes? I am gonna have to start making far more trips to Scores...