Friday, February 25, 2011

MFK Cereal Edition

Marry, Fuck, Kill:

Frankenberry, Booberry & Count Chocula
Well, I'm gonna say marry the count because counts have a lot of moola amirite? And you can't kill a vampire, even a homosexual, chocolate-loving one, cause they already dead. Hmm, guess you can't kill Booberry either then. But Boo looks kind of like an asshole (and stoned, thumbs up) and chicks dig that. The solution to this one is marry the count and have fabulous dinner parties with chocolate fountains, bone down in ghost town, then kill that fat fuschia turd of a Frankenberry because he's worthless.

Cap'n Crunch, Cinnamon Toast Crunch Chef & Cookie Crook
Piece of cake: Marry the Chef, duh. Being fat and well fed is what marriage is all about, no? Then let the Cap'n dock in your port, sailors are only in town for a night anyways just make sure you double bag his periscope. And I guess this means you would have to kill the cookie crook, which is a bummer, as Cookie Crisp is my favorite cereal, but looking on the bright side, you'd probs get a sweet reward and free cookies for life from all the bakers he's been jacking since the 80's.

Lucky the Leprechaun, Tony the Tiger & the Trix Rabbit
As much as I have a thing for red-heads, kill that stingy Mick and his pot of gold. lucky Charms is a mean cereal. Sneaking in that Cheerio-knockoff bullshit when all anyone really buys it for is the marshmallows. You know how many brutally senseless fights have taken place between siblings when one eats all the marshmallows and leaves the cardboard-tasting refuse in the box? Many. In this scenario, whatever you do, don't marry that rabbit. If there's one thing rabbits know how to do, it's procreate. You will be prego ma-lego on the reg-o. Bone the rabbit, sure, but maybe have your uterus removed first. Then marry Tony! Now there's a real man. Fuckit, just marry Tony and have him eat the other two. Don't even deal.

Toucan Sam, Sonny the Cocoa Puffs Bird & Dig 'Em the Smacks Frog
First off, who wears a striped turtleneck with no pants and why would General Mills think this is a good look for a cereal mascot. Way to teach kids to trust "cuckoo" pantsless dudes running around yelling about how much they love cocoa. Kill that fucker. You know what, I think I would marry Toucan Sam. He seems sensible and happy-go-lucky, but check out that bill! He's got a wild streak in him. But will make sure the kids get to bed at a reasonable hour. Sam would never mind being the designated driver and never judge or berrate you for getting too drunk at the company party or that one time you took a swing at the Morton Salt girl. No good whore. And Dig 'Em would be an easy lay. Just go to the local dive bar on any Tuesday and you'll find him pumping quarter after quarter into the jukebox and if you time it right and give a nod towards the bathroom in the back when "Young Turks" comes on, he'll follow you in and lay out a coupla lines on top of the toilet tank and tell you about back in the days when kids cereal was pure sugar, man, not this tree-hugging Kashi bullshit parents are feeding their beatnik kids nowadays and you'll slowly take his hand and lead him to his '89 Camaro in the parking lot behind the 7-11 and the windows will steam up for three brief, shining moments and over the sounds of "Maggie Mae" blaring from the juke, the bartender will swear he heard a raspy voice yell into the night, "GOTTA HAVE MY POPS."

Props to Mike for this photo!


Not many people know this, but I am a classically trained pianist. Not making this up. My grandma is holding onto my piano in SF, but I also have one in Brooklyn courtesy of my old room mate Marisa's parents. I shit you not when I say I was good. Fuck my grandma for making me practice an hour everyday, but by the end of my sojourn I was playing solo concerts. NBD! I remember my mom invited her hair stylist (ie permist) to one of those concerts and she cried ...because my delicate fingers made such sweet beautiful sounds.

This past Tuesday I was feeling blue, and so decided to buy some sheet music from 'Cause who doesn't love playing the piano when they're sad? Guess what arrived in the mail yesterday! I spent an hour playing Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata and some Chopin. And guess what? I still got it. For those of you that doubt my abilities, this is the Chopin I was playing. I can still play it with my eyes closed. Well ok not really. But I'm available for private parties.

My Theme Song

Shanon sent an email out to me, Chris & Nicky:

Shanon: Jenny's theme song!
Chris: Hahaha. Is it cause Jenny is a jerk? I think I get it. 
Jenny: And also I look like a muppet. MAN I'm stoked to go to this show!!
Chris: Me as well. I am so stoked. It's gonna rule. I am gonna dance my self clean. See what I just did.
I used the song title to describe my actions. It a little thing I like to call humor.
Jenny: I'm gonna poop my pants with excitement. It's not a song title. It's a fact.
Chris: Beat you to it.
Jenny: You know, as twilight was setting in this evening, I went up to the roof to enjoy the last drag of my finest Guatamalean cigarillo and watched the light glinting off the smog dusted cars shooting down the BQE, a familiar scent wound its way through my nostrils amidst the bitter winter breeze and I tilted my head towards Clinton Hill and nodded to myself as the wind whispered......Christoban.
Shanon: Ew, please stop. Or take me off this chain.

Thursday, February 24, 2011

Boner of the Day

Pete Cashmore, the 26 year old CEO of Smart, rich, beautiful and SCOTTISH. Someone brought him up in a meeting the other day and everyone was all "Oh yes yes, Pete Cashmore this and that." I had to play dumb until I could get back to my computer and look up who the hell this dude is. Shwing! Thank you google image search.

Ecstasy, a blessing and a curse

Up until last summer I hadn't done this evil little fabulous drug for over 10 years. I figure that's enough time to open that flood gate again. But only on special occasions. Like Chris' bday in January. And my birthday 4 days ago.

For Chris' bday we all went to go see Oberhofer. And apparently, once the mdma kicked in, no one could remember this fact other than Shanon and Jenny. Nicky kept yelling at us that we were going to be late, and as soon as the cab dropped us off at the venue, promptly declared she wasn't getting out of the car, and why would she since she didn't know what we were doing. Then when the band started actually playing, Chris turned to me and shouted, "Who's this loud band?" Hell of a drug.

For my bday, we kept it civilized. Coq Au Vin for 12 people ...mdma and apple pie for dessert. As you can imagine, things digressed quickly. The hours between 12 and 4am are pretty hazy, but Jenny just reminded me that we put one of the red plastic table cloths on the floor and turned it into a runway. I immediately jumped up and did a runway walk/jig to Rod Stewart. Then everyone else refused, claiming "too much pressure." I also yelled out (multiple times) I LOVE YOU GUYS, and I FEEL AMAZING RIGHT NOW. I don't even remember Wes licking my double toe, but apparently that happened. And my buddy Ryan (1st time doing ecstasy) just kept saying, "Jenny was right - blast off." Then eventually we all passed out. The end.

Now to the curse part. Man does that shit make me feel like poo. I stayed curled up in bed all day Monday (uhthankyou 3 day weekend), and yesterday was STILL fucked up. My coworker was totally supportive when he told me I looked like shit. I also had to go to a work dinner Monday evening with a client in town from Germany. I almost fell asleep at the table, and so my other coworker took over by getting drunk and asking us all to call him "Detective Meatball."

Great drug. Dangerous PMS side effects.

Shannie's Music Poo Baw Whatever

First of all - Sufjan Stevens? I need to keep Jenny away from the boners because she has the taste of a 12 year old gay boy and apparently also loves religious nuts. Dude is way Catholic. BONERKILLER.

But anyway, my music installment today is about my hangover cure du jour - Punk slow jams. Just what the doctor ordered. Here are my favorites.

Against Me - Violence. Sweet mother is this song good.

The Replacements - Adrogynous. I think Alex Chilton might be a boner of yesteryear. He was pretty fugs but I would've hit that shit so hard.

Jay Reatard - Hammer I Miss You. RIP. Last October I made out with his drummer ...High five?

iChat Dad Jokes

Been knocking these outta the park lately.

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

Boner of the Day

Sufjan Stevens. Yesterday was an emotional day for me, which I blame on the four-day weekend I had. Three day weekends are key, do you know how much better the world would be if we all worked four days instead of five? Three days lets you get everything done and get all your partying in and catch up on sleep and then you feel ready to go back to work on Tuesday (cleverly dodging the Monday bullet) because you're all booyah, only three more days to go until Friday, maybe life is worth living after all. But four days is too much. You acquire a taste for your new-found freedom and are hungry for more. You probably saw too much of your friends and now have separation anxiety and can't understand why you're drinking coffee at your desk at 3pm instead of drinking wine in the park and having stick-fights.

My yesterday in a nutshell. Tried to be productive and do some work last night, but somehow only managed to listen to Sufjan Stevens "The Age of Adz" on repeat. And the motivational one-hitter I packed seemed to have a reverse effect and led to google image searches of said baberino (Um, hello baby Clive Owen) and then I had to google who he was dating and found a dispute over his sexual orientation was afoot. But I care not. Homo or Nomo, pencil me in for all the makeouts. And today I am feeling much more upbeat. Even listened to punk all the way to work this morning. Okay fine, it was Fleetwood Mac. Fuck you.

Saturday, February 19, 2011

Can't. Stop. Watching.

It's Saturday. I don't have the flu, and I'm not at work. Fucking great day. I'm also pretty stoned. And this trailer on full screen is amazing.

Thursday, February 17, 2011

Oh, Vegas

As I mentioned previously, I was just in Vegas for the 4th time in 2 years. I've basically gotten it down to a science at this point and my trip wasn't as horrendous as I was anticipating. So now it's Shanon 1, Vegas 3. I'm catching up!

Aside from the fact that I was on dayquil the whole time, I quite enjoyed myself getting drunk and hanging out with menswear babes. Highlights include:

- Telling off some menswear bloggers. Have you ever had to hang out with these guys? They are the worst! I got drunk and spit off the balcony of this joint (pic below) then turned to one and blurted out "You live with your parents, don't you!" He got all butt hurt and asked why I would think that and I said, "Because you live in Ottawa and write for a blog." Zing! Then I bounced. We all know how tactful I am.

- Eating cake and wine for breakfast. A client texted me to see if I wanted to meet up and I said no because I was too busy eating the below pic. Saleswoman - I am she.

- Hung out with a dude I once kicked out of a cab. As in yelled at the cab driver to pull over and then told him to get the fuck out immediately ...who turns out is now a client. Success, my reputation proceeds me.

- Tried to "pass that torch" if you will, to a junior employee by showing them my email response to a client who said they couldn't give me money. That response? "Fuck you." To be fair I was drunk and don't remember writing it.

- Made out with my coworker's client! This dude is such a babe. And my coworker loves me even more as he is now going to "dangle me" out there for the next time said client is in town. I will do whatever it takes to close business.

Any Day Now...

When you're a little kid, you know how you have these notions in your head that you just think will automatically happen one day? Here are some of my yet to be realized childhood presumptions.

Would have been on (and won) The Price Is Right. Watching this show was my favorite part about staying home from school when I was sick. I cared not about winning a curio case to store my Hummel collection, but that was just a stepping stone on the way to the Winnebago I would obvy win in the showcase showdown and then park in my parents driveway to live in, when I wasn't having cross country adventures, that is. The closest I came to being on that show was playing Gandy's plinko set he bought on eBay. But between this and Supermarket Sweep, I probably knew more about grocery prices than a coupon-clipping single mother of four.

Would be living in a hotel. I blame this on that bitch Eloise and those kids books about her living at the Plaza. But damn, how much easier would my life be if I were heir to a hotel empire. This would enable me to live out my crazy rich person fantasy of sleeping on fresh sheets every night and I could also fulfill my new resolution to get served breakfast in bed more, without having to deal with crumbs in the sheets for days because I'm too lazy to change them. Too bad the last hotel I stayed at was in Albany and so ghetto that it somehow snowed INSIDE our room.

Would have a video on America's Funniest Home Videos. What kid didn't watch Bob Sagat announce the winner of that sweet $10,000 prize and think to themself "What a gyp, this is so rigged" because you know in your head you were thinking they only gave it to that stupid video about the laughing baby because the family is from Podunk, Alabama and now maybe the kid will have a college fund or at least a sweet new ATV, but really the dude getting hit in the nuts with a wiffle bat was way funnier and as soon as I get a video camera I'm gonna make a video so amazing that it will HAVE to win. By now I at least thought I'd have captured one of Shanon's hilarious tooth-losing mishaps or even when she dropped the entire Thanksgiving turkey onto her legs, but the best I've gotten so far is us drunk and eating pizza while dancing.

Would have a song written for me. Making "beautiful music" with dudes in bands is really more up Shanon's alley (see what I did there) than mine, but I'm seriously considering becoming a groupie because I definitely assumed I'd have at least one song written for me by now. Especially since all the songs about Jennys are terrible. Not that I don't enjoy giving out 867-5309 as my number to drunk dudes, because that shit never gets old, but let's face facts, that song is about a man struggling over  whether or not to call a hooker.

Real Talk

The other day, Chris and I were talking about what to talk about (sometimes we run out) and I asked what dudes talk about and he said guys really don't have all that much to say to one another. There's apparently about five topics:

1. Stupid shit they did.
2. How fucked up they got.
3. Fishing.
4. Trying to get laid.
5. That one time they got anal.

We then started (jokingly) naming things girls talk about, like; rainbows, makeup, ponies, periods, periods, periods, dreams, butterflies, etc. Chicks! What gives.

So this past Sunday I had a babes only brunch, which turned into a serious day drunk and then inevitably, karaoke. After relaying Chris's insider tidbit, my friend Bianca kept a running tally of things we discussed throughout the course of the day/eve:

Cats, hair, Indian names, getting drunk, boys, cookies, accessories, dogs, parties, dancing, our other friends, TV, Katy Perry, dudes, karaoke, sex, bouncing on a trampoline, hair, singing, Phil Collins, sexy babies, massages, music, boys, karaoke, doing drugs, doing drugs, peer pressure, doing drugs, punch, punching, Hana foods sandwich names, sandwiches, Miami, Haiti, our friend Nick, jobs, cats, weed, cougartown, Mandy Moore, the east village, Ryan Adams, Bryan Adams, first dates, karaoke, money, bars, hip hop, looks, karaoke, SOUP, lunch, eating out, Italian food, snow and cars, Juan, headshops, soberness, celibacy, cookware, grammar.


Tuesday, February 15, 2011

Agreed, Fuck You Valentine's Day

Normally, I really like Valentine's day, mostly because it has my favorite things; candy, punny cards, presents, getting hammered and regrettable make-out decisions. But this year, my V-day consisted of; a hoarse throat (thank you, karaoke hangover), staying late at work with a gay designer (no make-outs, we discussed our fave East Village gay bars), Chinese food on my couch (allright, that part kinda ruled), and then passing out from exhaustion during Gossip Girl (which comes on at 9pm).

And the only valentine requests I had received were from my office building's doorman (who alternately offers to take me shopping at Deisel or buy me a beef patty and take me to live in Jamaica and be his queen) and the parking lot attendant next door (I accepted). Then a package came for me in the mail (presents!) and I got all essited and opened it only to find the new glasses I'd won on ebay...which are definitely meant for a small child's head.

Oh, and this was my fortune, a valentine's message telling me to not give a shit and settle. See you next year, V-day (jerk).

Monday, February 14, 2011

Valentine's Day - Fuck You

Normally I don’t give a shit about Valentine’s Day (regardless of whether I’m in a relationship or not), but this one is really beginning to piss me off. First of all, I’m on my way to Las Vegas after just getting over the flu. Yesterday was a big enough day for me already – after 4 days of hanging out on the verge of death in the same sweat pants and nasty shirt, I finally took a shower and went for a walk.

And the fact that I’m currently on my way to a city I loathe... I dunno, it just seems cruel. Las Vegas blows! And knowing me I’m going to be forced by clients to do all sorts of drugs and hang out with strippers then go home with the bubonic plague.

But the point of my story is that RIGHT NOW (you’ll probably read this after the fact) there is a nasty ass couple sitting next to me on the plane practically having sex with one another. This woman with drawn-on eyebrows is full on grabbing this old bald guys dick with her fake press on nails.

Oh, and this was after I was on the L train earlier and some mexi-teens were all PDA and the girl was holding a rose and a gift bag from Victoria’s Secret. What 16 year-old buys his girlfriend panties!!

But I'm not joking when I say this couple is going to haunt my dreams. I read an entire book on the flight just to have something else to think about (and between you and me, "Never Let Me Go" is a real zzzzzz fest). I am officially traumatized.

Friday, February 11, 2011

Sex Date

A friend of mine, who we'll call "Whitey," made out with this dude once or twice and decided it was high time they got on board the Doing-It Express. But you know how when you wait for something to happen for so long and all this pressure builds up and you get really nervous? Well that's what started to happened and so she asked me for some "sex lessons." I told her "lots of beej's" and have been making fun of her ever since.

Shanon actually coined the phrase "flexting" and man, nothing makes me cringe more than hearing other people's sexty conversations. Chris read some sexts once that his friend wrote me and I am still living that shit down. 

The big day!

...And the aftermath.

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Boner of Yesteryear

James Caan. I recently watched the ending of "Rollerball" on Youtube and am now waiting for that Netflix jam to show up in my mailbox because Jimmy Caan used to be a fox and a half.  I would "Misery" that ass too, back in the Roller-day. And I hear he's pretty good in that "Godfather" flick, although I have never seen it and don't want to hear any guff about this, as I will get around to it when I see fit. For now, I am happy to pitch lady-tents for bathtub Caan pics and Playgirl covers.

Friday, February 4, 2011

Fuck Football

I could give a shit! But I am highly involved in this battle between Wiz Khalifa and Lil' Wayne. HIGHLY. I think I'll have to give it to Wayne cause, duh, he's amazing, but because "I'm a cheese head, y'all niggas cheese whiz" is the best line ever.

Friday Musings

I've really been hitting the one blog a week mark but ehhhh, fuck it. As Jenny told me earlier - "you hate effort!" It's totally true.

And in keeping with that spirit, let's all just sit and watch this video, shall we?

Some choice quotes I've gotten so far:

"So dumb, unless they cut a hole and take a dump in it. It looks like a portapotty."

"WTF is wrong with Germany."

"I whole heartedly disagree with this shit if it is real."

And then there was this gem.

Serious Bummers

Did I once make a hilarious That's What She Said joke in the middle of a fight with a boyfriend about how I don't take things seriously enough? Yes and I'd do it again, but some people are way too serious about shit all the time. Like these dudes.

-Vegans. If anyone has their panties in a perma-bunch, it's vegans. And I think maybe it's because cheese is right up there after sex & booze as best things ever and they're bitter about not being able to eat, much like I would be.  And I don't blame them, being a vegan aint easy, if I don't eat cheese for one day I am pretty damn impressed with myself. Cheese is so good that my lactose-intolerant friends risk shitting their pants and being bloated for a week for it. Hence vegans being uptight about any and all things.

-Serious cyclists. I love my bike. It takes me places, it is fun and most times the only exercise I get. I ride at a reasonable pace but sometimes I like to cruise around slow and stoney baloney style and serious bikers (you can tell who they are by their head to toe spandex) really dislike this. I know because they yell shit at me like "ride single file!" or "that was a STOP sign!" and "don't ride drunk!"
and if we were on the Tour De France, sure, but riding on the West Side Highway on a Sunday, not so much, bud.

-Professional dancers. Well, maybe not strippers. I don't imagine they take themselves very seriously at all. But I can see ballerinas and modern dancers being some serious folk. Have you seen "Black Swan?" Me neither, but I did see "Dirty Dancing" and nobody puts baby in the fucking corner.

-People way into yoga. They always think they're better than me and are usually same people who say "my body is a temple." But people who take yoga too seriously tend to lean towards the crazy side. If I'm aspiring to be any kind of Yogi, you can be damn sure it's the kind that steals picnic lunches and rolls with a sidekick named Boo Boo.

-Serious DJ's. Um, everyone and their Mom is a fucking DJ nowadays (minus my Mom, she can only sometimes operate the CD player in her car) and thanks to the internets, every song is available to everyone, always. So play some gahdamn Genesis and get over yourself.

-People way into their cars. Sure, cars are nice and expensive and useful sometimes, but don't get all bent out of shape if I want to eat Taco Bell in your car or accidentally spill my Slurpee, that's what cars are for; drive thrus and 7-11 trips! And I enjoy riding through the carwash as much as the next person, but as for obsessively cleaning and waxing your whip, get over it, it's just gonna get dirty again. The only car I will be impressed by is a limo and that's mostly because I have yet to get busy in one and I'm almost 30 and a life without goals is just not worth living.

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Happy February

Things I'm sick of: Snow, not enough room on the sidewalks because of snow, ice, cabin fever, slush puddles, snow, all boots destroyed, wet-sock-foot, snow, everyone looking fat, no bike-riding, snow, garbage piled on top of the snow, wondering when I'm going to slip and bust a tooth, snow, Old Man Winter butt-effing the city on a weekly basis, snow, running out of netflix watch instant because I have watched all the movies ever since I am a hermit now. Oh and I'm really over this snow bullshit.

That being said, Gandy sent me this video and it has been melting my cold frozen heart. Goodbye wintry-mix weather forecast, hello underage Brazilian babe daydreams. How do you say "no pedo" in Portuguese?