Saturday, July 30, 2011

make it rain?

One of my new terrible hobbies is twitter trending...I know I am "one of those people" now and I totally own up to it. [Tangent: I will admit..I was a bit of a twitter moron for about the first month I was a member, but now I have gotten the hang of it. If you don't know about twitter trending, it basically means you take inspiration form a #,or hash tag, and add to the list.]  My fella and I have made it a new past time...making up trending topics. Our first was #HipsterConfessions. Ex: I know this top looks vintage, but it's from Fashion Bug #HipsterConfessions. 

It's a stupid time suck...I'll admit- but occasionally it gives birth to brilliance after the ball gets rolling and people jump aboard. Yesterday I resurrected one of my favorite topics: Worst Stripper Songs [or #WorstStripperSongs]. I have linked to all of them below, so feel free to click on the songs so you can work on your best moves to awkwardly gyrate to.

Worst Stripper Songs 
(as determined by my twitter peeps and myself)

Wednesday, July 27, 2011

how to win at reunions.

The other day I was eating lunch with my friends Amber and Tyler and somehow we started discussing my 10 year high school reunion, which is coming up this weekend. [Tangent: The only basis I have for what to expect comes from a little documentary called Romy and Michele's High School Reunion, which I feel is one of the greatest cinematic victories of our time. Maybe because I wore a back brace for part of high school or maybe its because I'd be totally content folding scarves, but I always felt a kinship with Michele Weinberger.] Over Cracker Barrel bacon-fried goodness, Amber asked, "So who is gonna win at the reunion?" I asked for clarification and she said, "You know...the one person everyone is talking about long after...has anyone changed a great deal? Anyone had a sex change?"

After racking my brain for possible gender swappers, I laughed- Winning is something I had never considered, but now it gave the whole affair a new exciting twist. What had previously been a semi-awkward chat fest requiring some social lubricant with people you haven't seen in years (except for bouts of facebook stalking) had shape shifted into a possible game. Who will win? [Tangent: If we are going by Romy and Michele guidelines, someone may pull a Sandy Frink and all of a sudden be very wealthy and land at the occasion in their helicopter.]

Winning could take bad or good connotations. You could win by getting insanely more attractive and having a sweet trophy spouse, or you could be winning by getting ridiculously drunk and grinding with a bartender after puking on the homecoming queen.

Personally, I feel like I am infinitely cooler than I was the day I graduated high school in 2001. My bitchiness has dwindled A LOT.  My fashion sense is greatly improved. I no longer am married to my liquid eyeliner and I no longer am so skinny that people think I spent my summer in a concentration camp. kimmie. Man, I need to wear my retainer more...look at those pretty post braces chompers!

My current profession may not be as exciting as some at the reunion, but I am happy and proud of my little life. I also am making a bit of a jump and bringing my lovely boyfriend to the reunion (May god have mercy on his soul)...I told him it will be fun and he there are drink tickets and mashed potatoes involved, which sold him. Also, he can be free to make up aliases or fake stories or whatever...I mean he will likely never see 2/3 of these people again. [Tangent: Once again, Romy and Michele were the inspiration...but I couldn't tell people he had invented post-its...because it's been done.] We settled on a fantastic backstory: he was an astronaut, and with the current cuts on NASA space missions- he had more free time to spend with his lady.

Hours after this conversation- my lovely hoarding fella  sent me the following picture. Looks like he is in it to win it...

Monday, July 25, 2011

it wasn't "just like a mini mall," but it was rad.

The fact that I am a bit of a hoarder is something that I have never tried to hide, yet somehow I have found a boyfriend that may trump me in this area. It was actually one of the quirks that lured me in...I mean its nice to find another person in my age bracket that has a costume closet in their home. Our relationship was written in the stars.

For this reason,  of course I could think of no one better to go to The Nashville Flea Market, which I haven't visited since I was in college and stocked up on tube socks and bootleg VHS tapes. Even though it seems like the perfect date spot, the potential for ridiculous impulse purchasing increases tenfold when you unleash two junk enthused individuals, but we were surprisingly conservative with our spending. If we were grade schoolers, we would be sportin' gold stars and check plusses and all that jazz, because we kept in check our urges to buy everything that warranted an, "oooh neat, look at this." The only place we got slightly outta hand was at the snack booths, where it appeared someone had held up a vending machine refiller, stolen his wares and was reselling them at bargain basement prices. You can check your morality over possibly stolen merchandise at the door when you see 10 bags of pretzel M&Ms for $2.

[Tangent: On a personal note, ever since we decided earlier in the week that a flea market trip was on the horizon, my subconscious was drenched with the catchy song from the below...luckily I got it outta my system so I wasn't singing it all morning.]

My one regret [Tangent: Besides not buying more than one fried pie.] is that I didn't photo document the entire flea market to reveal all the ridiculous things we encountered. First off, Flea Market people are an odd breed: FACT! Both the patrons and the booth tenders have the market cornered on eccentricity [Tangent: Which is a nice way of saying crazy and/or haggard.]

Things you will see at a flea market that you may not trust:

  • Opened but not used pregnancy tests and douches
  • Vendors that look like Dog: The Bounty Hunter

  • An older lady wearing a homemade "Free Hugs" sign

  • Roll on deodorant, which I can only assume is from 1994 because where does one buy roll-on deodorant nowadays? [Tangent: I can only assume the people that wear Charlie! or Primo! perfume also wear roll-on deodorant.] 
 To be truthful though, I really cannot wait to go back next month when its not so jabenero hot outside...maybe next time I will go balls out and wear my own free hug sign and bedazzled visor.

Saturday, July 23, 2011

I was robbed...i think.

To borrow a cliche blog opening statement: this weekend has taken some twists and turns for sure. Friday, when I was about to clock out for the day,  I learned that my lovely friend Ty would be deployed with the army to Afghanistan this coming week. [Tangent: Yes, I realize, I wrote back in May that she was leaving then, but she had to wait on some things. While she waited, I had hopes that my pal ol' president B. Rock would get this ridiculous war business reigned in and keep my friend and all her soldier friends home. That wish was not granted, so I guess my badass army pal is gonna go all Captain America on the Middle East.]

So...that was bad news, which was that followed by more. Somewhere between me getting some work done on my car and me buying toilet paper and body wash at wallet went missing. I predict it was taken out of my car while I was loitering in the nail polish aisle debating between nude and off nude.  The good news is my debit card was on me, so my hard earned money is not going for someone else's insidious needs, however that cretin now has the following items of mine:

My ID [Tangent: Unless they are 4'11, a disabled driver and smiling a horrifically unflattering smile...thou shall not pass.]
My Ipod [Tangent: This is my third stolen ipod in a row, something tells me Steve Jobs owes me some kind of upgrade. I also hope my thief really detests 90s alternative, sad bastard music and showtunes.]
My Sweet CeCe's punch card [Tangent: I am upset about this one...I was two punches away from free yogurt. RAT BASTARDS!]
My favorite discontinued lip gloss from Bath & Body Works [Tangent: It was lime flavored and reminded me of vodka tonics, thus making it instantly awesome. Not only is that shizz $7, but it's no longer being sold. Stealing a no longer being produced lip balm from a girl in a wheelchair should rank just below manslaughter as far as I'm concerned.] 
I suspect this guy may have had something to do with it...

...or these fellas...

...or perhaps...

I could practically hear the "womp womp" of the sad trombones  or the chorus of that intolerable Daniel Powder song following me into Pinkberry, where I was meeting Ty and my friend Courtney before going to partake in some chick flickin'. In simple conversation with our fine young yogurt slinger [Tangent: ewww...] the deployment and roberry were peppered into small talk and he decided our days had been shitty enough, the least he could do was free yogurt. I love a sympathetic frozen yogurt afficienado...who doesn't? 

Luckily the weekend improved as soon as the free yogurt was polished off and nothing remained but a salted caramel skid mark on their eerily pristine tables at Pinkberry.  The J. Timberlake vehicle about having friends with benefits [can't quite remember the title...] was enjoyable and girl time was appreciated. I also knew I would be going to the Flea Market the next morning with my ginger...and god knows I love a rummaging through junk [Tangent: A "that's what she said" just seems too easy.].

to be continued...

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

mermaids: the ultimate cripples

There are days that I really miss college. As a Mass Comm major and English minor, I wrote a myriad of papers disecting cultural trends and society and society's connection to cultural trends and all that bullshittery. [Tangent: Things I wrote 10+ page page papers on in college: Why South Park's Jimmy and Timmy are Advocates for the DisabledAmelie and Clueless: Modern Day Matchmaking In Film; and Geek Chic: How Nerd is the new Black.] Even in my studious of days, I could not have projected an apparent trend on the horizon... something I never thought would catch on...mermaids in wheelchairs. Yes, you heard correctly- they are all the rage, it seems.

Yesterday I was perusing this article about a feud rocking the music world: [Tangent: You will see this is the worst feud existence.] who originated the Mermaid in a wheelchair schtick: Lady Gaga or Bette Midler?

tough call...jazzy wheelchair mermaid vs. creepy wheelchair mermaid.
[Tangent: I feel totally overshadowed...while my hair is at Pentecostal lengths, I had considered being a mermaid for halloween this year.  Given its kind of a giant fishtail is an impractical costume element for someone that has to walk, but for me it would be totally practical. But along wheels Gaga and Ms. M to prove that its "been done," thus completely raining buckets on my costume parade. My friend Alicia suggested I do it anyway, and just create a mash-up of Wind Beneath my Wings and Born This Way to play on a loop all evening. It's still under consideration] 

I know it seems like an odd concept: a disabled mermaid?!? But think it over, a mermaid has no legs...she can't walk [Tangent: You've seen a little documentary called Splash! You know the drill.]. If one has to come on land among the uprights...I am sure they would have to hoveround it.  Merpeople are the ultimate mythological disabled creatures. If I am mistaken, things like this wouldn't exist:

I kinda feel like I need this, but why does she look so somber?

Again why does she have to be so debbie downer about it? Maybe it's because she has no hands and is doubly disabled.
I guess I first saw the correlation at MDA summer camp many years ago.  After seeing a little girl with Muscular Dystrophy sing it on Karaoke night, I remember looking at a friend and just mouthing, "god, this is heartbreaking." Watch the below clip...about midway through close your eyes and replace Ariel with an adorable little wheelchair chick.

Flipping your fins you don't get to far
Legs are required for jumping, dancing
strolling along down the
[What's that word again?] street

Up where they walk

Up where they run
Up where they stay all day in the sun
Wandering free
Wish I could be
Part of that world

Cue the soul wrenching. Crazy right?!? It has even been suggested that if I do a one woman show, I somehow integrate this song into my act to make my audience feel sufficiently awkward. Now that I've shared this weird insight, I hope I have forever ruined mermaid culture for you, and turned a lovely movie about a talking crab into an allegory about disability. You're welcome!!!

Monday, July 11, 2011

the dog[vest] days are over

 It's been less than a week and I already miss Josh. He left us a week ago to be in a place where he is free and his life is less complicated. No, my coworker/daily break buddy/partner in being grossly inappropriate didn't die...he just is living the sweet life or a housewife househusband(?). Instead of spending everyday doing whatever the hell he did for our healthcare company, [Tangent: No one really knows what anyone not in their department does.] I imagine he is now lounging around in a shortie robe and maribou slippers throwing bon-bons at the screen during Maury Povich...oh,and intermittently checking in on his sweet baby girl, while his brilliant chemist wife makes BANK! The rest of the time, in my mind, he is doing this:
why did googling "man in shortie robe" yield no good results? google sucks.
This is my blog shout out to Josh who has inspired the following winning blogs fat babies and handi-hitching. I am sorry to say that I had to be gone on Josh's last day of work. When I got his text, "I left was something to remember me by," I'll admit- I was scared.

In the past his "thank you" gifts to his friends have consisted of baskets of lube or African-American gay adult films. Maybe it could be something innocent...something edible? Nah...his edible treats in the past have consisted of a poptart-zinger sandwich or some weird jelly straw from World Market that disturbed me on a number of levels [Tangent: Imagine a gelatinous substance that is squirted in your mouth gogurt style and tastes like sundried jolly ranchers from 1987. Intrigued?]
I feel the looks say it all. 
Thankfully, It was none of the above. Instead, Josh had left me something I have had my eye on since before we had been formerly introduced. When you see someone on the elevator wearing this on casual friday, how can you not be intrigued?
yep, that's a dog vest.

I found it in my cubicle with a note pinned to it like an abandoned baby.


My name is Gertrude. Can you give me a home? My last owner told me I was too small and that he couldn't take care of me anymore.

If you take me home, I promise to provide you with years of hilariously awkward antics.

Yours always,


Tuesday, July 5, 2011

hey jorty, it's ya birfday.

I like this motto. I think we should adopt this as a new flag.

As you know this weekend was July 4th, our nation's birthday where people eat copious hot dogs and light things on fire to celebrate independence. Appropriately enough, in the spirit of freedom of all things speechy, my blog's birthday is July 4th. I like to believe all the weekend hubbub was about me. Also, I like to think Katy Perry was singing "firework" about me, but something tells me that she wasn't. Even though I have felt "like a plastic bag, drifting through the wind, wanting to start again." [Tangent: Ok...thats not even true, but sidenote: I did learn in an interview on Sunday that Katy Perry really does want to be made into a firework when she dies. I never really liked the after-scent of fireworks. I imagine dead pop star fireworks would smell like cotton candy, though. Maybe other bubblegummy musicians need to jump aboard this train of thought.] In spite of my delusions of grandeur, I had an excellent celebratory patriotic weekend which kicked off with Jortfest... Jortstock.... Jortsapalooza.... Jortsaroo... Jortschella a big ol celebration of Jorts and all things American [Tangent: Other "American" things that were featured at the party: Springsteen music, Funyons, Ribs, grape soda, vodka/beer/limeade punch, swimming and vienna sausages.]
the most majestic image ever caught on film.

me and my fella. yes, thats a jorts cuff hipster headband and a shirt made of bandanas. no, my boyfriend doesn't hit me.

more jortsin' folks.

we keeps it classy.
So, you may be asking: why celebrate jean shorts? Well, you know when a joke goes too far. It starts out as an off the cuff remark... which leads to an inside joke...which leads to a funny idea...which leads to a flickr group with 23 members. This exact thing happened between last May and this June. At the end of last May (now synonymous with Moustache May), my friends were having a hard time coming off the high of ridiculosity that is Moustache May, so jokingly we said that we should do something equally tacky for take pictures wearing Jorts everyday. It was a reoccurring joke when we would wax nostalgic about May coming to an end and the missed camaraderie of Moustache May, "Well, there's always Jorts June."

Somewhere along the line, others picked it up, flipped the idea around in their heads and thought, "huh, that's not a terrible idea." My friend Miguel took the initiative, set up a flickr group... and ballyhoo ensued, resulting in a group so magnificent that it is the #1 google search if you query "jorts june." It all kicked off with the following indelible image of Migs, a very hetero man,  walking his dog in his janties:

 ...and over the four weeks that make up the month of June, gentlemen (and  ladies) in cutoff denim made themselves look completely and unabashedly silly. All of this work for the amusement of each other. [Tangent: Unfortunately I was only a commenter on these flickr pictures. I didn't own my own true pair of jorts until July.]
formal jorts...

jorts-butes to Tobias Funke...

jorts maxin' and relaxin'...

jorts causing envy...

working out in jorts...
...and jorts doing what they do best- celebrating freedom!
I will miss you jorts june. Thanks for the memories.
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