I was gobbling a bowl of raisin bran with soy milk and checkin my emails before my long day of study, and I got this. I thought it was mighty clever. Thought I'd pass it around:
I'm on this celery diet at the moment. Every day for the last 10 days or so I've been eating a whole pack of celery, coz they say that a stalk of celery has fewer calories than it takes to digest it. Thus, by eating celery, I'm actually burning calories. Of course I'm eating other things, such as chicken breast, tuna, fruit and other healthy goodies. But at least I'm not shoving hot pockets and buffalo wings down my feed hole.
I had to go on this diet because about 2 weeks ago, when the sun came out for the summer (the humidity and heat combined to torture me. I was so fokkin hot and sweaty--I looked like a fry cook on crack) I put on the lone pair of shorts that I own. They were a bit tight, but hell, they'd been sitting in the closet all winter and spring. Maybe they shrank? Whatever. They'll stretch.
Well, later that day, I was at some department store, when I heard "nature's calling". I found the men's room, and chose a urinal. I began unbuckling my belt (these shorts need a belt coz their kinda dressy). and before I could unclasp the button and unzip--to drain the lizzard--it just shot off (um...the BUTTON) and bounced around the inside of the porcelain urinal, and settled at the bottom, on the little rubber net next to that little thing that smells like moth balls, in a small nest of random pubes. OMG. Thank the GODS I had a belt on! I guess the stress was just too great.
OK. I got it. It took a self-sacrificing button to get it into my head: I need to lose a few pounds. Thus, the celery diet.
And I did rescue that heroic little button. Don't ask how--you don't want to know. Its all washed and clean, and ready to be re-attached to my shorts.
I was brushing my pearly whites this morning, and happened to catch my cat exit her uber-luxurious litterbox. At first I didn't know what was happening. She was walking a little funny. Well, not really walking. She had this creepy look on her face (see my profile pic--kinda like that) and she was pulling herself--more like dragging her ass, while her back legs were pointing forward in the air, and her front legs were doing all the heavy work. Her tail was all crinked up in this weird bend, like it was flexing. WTF?Then I saw the brown shit stain she was leaving behind as she did it. about 11 inches of this stain later, I stopped brushing my teeth. My uber-fast, high priced brain figured out what the hell was going on: she had shit stuck in her ass fur, and she was using my hand-woven Indian kilim rug as her "Charmin" to wipe it off.
I shrieked as best I could through my Aquafresh Extreme mouth foam, and lunged for her. She tried to run from me (the look on my face woulda scared me too, if I were a cat), but I guess the huge chunk of shit-glue stuck to her ass cheeks slowed her down.
I ran her into the bathroom as she whined and complained. I lifted her tail--forced it, actually, and took a looksie. Yep. I was right. What to do? This is the first time I ever had to use my goddam fingers to pull chunks of shit from the ass of any living creature (I aint never changed a poopie diaper in my life). And I did it with my toof brush in my mouth. I used TP, but my fingers slipped past the paper a few times. It was gross. And the cat--OMG--the cat was totally mortified. I really felt bad for her. She's quite proud, but this was quite embarrassing for her. I know this from the fact that her ears were almost flat and the low, roiling growl that was coming deep from her throat was something I have never heard from her before.
Well, after the wiping and pulling as much of the shit from her fur, it still wasn't all out. There was still sticky shit mashed into the fur all along the bottom of her tail, and off to one side of her poopie hole. I had two choices: either use my hair cutting scissors to cut the fur off, or give her a much detested cat bath.
Mind you I still had my toof brush in my mouth, since this all transpired within about 30 seconds. And the Aquafresh Extreme has foaming action, so the toof paste was starting to expand beyond the capacity of my cheeks-out and down my chin, and down the brush handle. It drippled onto my shirt and shoes. No, I couldn't let go of the cat, coz she woulda ran off and used my goddam sofa or pillows as the "Charmin". And my other hand was all fulla cat shit.
Well, I gave her a bath. Cat shampoo and all. (I woulda never guessed she was so thin under all that fur) And I had to use MY goddam bath towel to dry her since she was all soaked and matted down and it was the only one in the bathroom area (its HER bath towel now). Either that or carry her out of the bathroom and risk her escaping and leaving a puddle path on the wood floors.
Well, we've reached a new level in our relationship. She's a little humbled and less snooty than she was before, and I can understand why.
Now, either I hafta wait for the shit streak on my carpet to dry so I can brush it out and vacuum it up, then wash, or I can take a chance that I just spread this stuff all aroung while its still sticky.
11 statements to my hordes and hordes of loyal "myspace" fans who have written me off for dead because I have been M.I.A. for months:
1. You can blow out the candles, stop the t-shirt producton, and pack up the shrines, I'm obviously not dead yet. (and for those of you greedy little freaks who I have bequeathed my stuff to in my Last Will and Testament, which is also on this blog site--wipe that grin off yer goddam faces. Bastards).
2. I kinda had to lay off the blogging, coz I was getting my ass kicked by final exams, and dealing with the endless number of stuff that comes with graduating from law school. Those petty guttesnipes at the school make everyone jump through burnin hoops and perform a song and dance before they approve your graduation. So I was kinda busy.
3. I graduated. Can you believe it!?
4. I once again have internet service in my 4th floor palace in the brooklyn sky, so I will be able to keep an eye on each of ya. So for those of you who bumped me off your top 8--you are now on notice. I better see my gorgeous face in those top two rows, or there'll be some beat downs.
4. For alla ya highly overpaid law school professors who were responsible for educating this giant brain of mine (in case you are reading this blog along with the hunnerds of thousands of subscribers): I now understand the Rule Against Perpetuities. I learned it in my Pieper bar prep course. I get it. But I hafta ask, why the hell did you make it so goddam confusing?? Mr. Pieper explained it in about 39.5 seconds, and it made sense. Idiots.
5. I went and bought 5 pair of summer shorts at Century 21 the other day, only to find that I don't fit any of them.
6. GO-bama! I like McCain, but he's tooo o-l-l-l-l-d. He's gonna get WHALLOPPPED in November. Its gonna be an Evander Holyfield-George Burns fight. *Ouch*
7. R.I.P. Tim Russert. As a political junkie, I'll miss ya. But, my dad says that if you're gonna go, that's the way to go. No suffering. No goodbye's.
8. I just saw that video of Tara Reid's nipple flash (yeah, I'm a little behind the times). She's so gross. I didn't even care that I saw some tittie. The fact that it was Tara Reid's tittie ruined the fun.
9. Indiana Jones. Did anyone see it? Was it any good?
10. FOUR buck a gallon? Eff that.
11. The HOTTEST female newscasters: Laura O'Donnell, MSNBC. She's 1. Erin Burnett is up there too.
4:35 PM - Yo, dude. What’s the deal with the long-ass pinky nail??
You see ’em everywhere: guys walking around with one long-ass pinky nail. What the eff is that all about?? Today at Rite Aid, I was payin the cashier, and he gave me my change, and almost sliced my goddam wrist with his lone, grown, long pinky nail. It’s kinda gross, no? Honestly, whenever I see a guy with that fingernail, I have to resist the urge to grab the nearest pair of nail clippers, hammer, or pliers, and snap it off.
I’ve seen it lotsa times. I once heard it was for scooping coke for snorting on the fly. But why the hell would you really need to grow a long nail to do that!? People all over the place snort coke just fine without that nail.
So, I used "the google" to search "long pinky nail", and found that other people have so many practical uses for this home-grown tool (all of these are in supposed to be in "quotes" BTW).:
Organic coke spoon.
Booger scoop and earwax excavator. Gross, yes, but that sticky wax sure keeps that coke from falling off.
In the old days in China, long fingernails were a sign you were rich and didn’t do manual labor. Now they grow out the pinkie as a sign of culture, breeding and wealth. No doubt there’s some truth to this. A bit of browsing turns up photos of ornate fingernail protectors worn by ladies of the imperial Chinese court. Bizarre though such talons may seem to some, one could argue that as an indicator of culture, breeding, and wealth they beat having to buy a Jaguar.
Some 76-year old keeps one pinkie nail long and sharpened to open envelopes.
A sharpened, hardened nail is a dangerous weapon and can be a sign of prison time.
It was a sign that one was a pimp.
Great for opening shrink-wrap.
General scratching and ear cleaning.The French word auriculaire, meaning pinkie finger, of which Larousse remarks, "ainsi nommé parce que sa petitesse lui permet de s’introduire dans l’oreille" ("so named because its small size allows it to be introduced into the ear").
The longer nail also works well when trying to pick up something lying flat on a table, like a coin.
Some dude keeps his pinkie fingers on his hands is a bit longer than the other nails for playing the tarifs, or sympathetic strings of the sitar, in different fashions. And as a bonus, people think you’re a pimp.
The cashier at Subway had one nail grown long. I asked him why and he said he had a running competition with one of his friends as to who had the longest fingernail. This, amongst other reasons, is why I never eat at Subway.
Picasso kept a long little fingernail for mixing paints.
Turkish men commonly keep such a nail for opening cigarette wrappers.
"Keeping the long pinkie nail on your left hand eliminates the hand-shaking dilemma." This one actually makes sense to me.
A Chinese friend of mine - who is quite knowledgeable about societical history- told me that the pinky is long for two reasons that relate to status: 1) yes it does differentiate lower class and higher class. ie. higher class have longer nails because they do not do manual labour...but the pinky in specific is long because (you may have to look at your hand for this one)…2) it was known that if the the tip of the pinky passed the 2nd knuckle on the annular (finger right next to it), that you were genetically of a more ’respectable class’ and others would give you more respect. So, men would grow out their pinky nail to ’elongate’ their pinky length to ’elevate’ their status.
Well, there you have it. Mystery solved. Men with long pinky nails are either pimps and/or asassins, who happen to be coke heads with clean ears and empty noses, who are trying to garner good luck, while showing off their superior social status. Oh--and they can open envelopes and don’t have to shake hands.
And I though they were just gross, freaky guys. Who knew!?
7:22 AM - To the ass in the car outside my window:
Current mood: groggy
it's Sunday, for chrissake. First of all, why are you up so effin early on a Sunday? It's not even 9am. More importantly, why are you honking your horn so violently? This is Brooklyn. There is a $350 fine for honking here, doncha know? Your repeated honking prolly woke up the whole apartment building. If I didn't have this extra pillow to muffle the sound, I'd prolly walk to the kitchen and chuck eggs and leftover Chinese food at you from my 4th floor window. I think Gerard on the second floor has a gun, tho. I hope he pops a cap in your ass.
12:22 PM - Razor politics: Why men should shave their legs:
Today I’m gonna either take the clippers or the razor to my sexy legs. Nothing worse than untamed leg hair. Now before you offer your opinion, condemnation, insult, or kudos, hear me out:
Most western women shave their legs. I know this ritual started a long tima ago. For women, the practice of shaving the legs derives from a current cultural standard in the West that deems leg hair on women unattractive. This standard emerged during the early twentieth century, as women’s legs became more visible owing to shorter hemlines, and when the safety razor made the practice of leg shaving practical. The reasons for this cultural standard are debated, but it is sometimes seen as an example of a cultural mechanism for increasing sexual dimorphism. Others have suggested that it was promoted as a means of selling razors to a broader segment of the populace. There are a few rebels out there: "granolas" (hippie chickies), a few lesbians, feminists, etc. who refuse to be bullied by these social norms.
Some men shave their legs: Bodybuilders. Swimmers. Cyclists. Metrosexuals. Transsexuals. A few drag queens (I’ve seen some drag queens who are perfectly fine with shoving their wolf-man legs into nylons and high heels. Remember the Bud Light drag queeens?).
In my humble opinion, people who have excessive leg hair should either take the goddam clippers to their legs, or shave them. This includes all men.
[not my leg (my legs are way sexier, of course). This is a random result of a search query courtesy of photobucket]
I am not a hairy guy. But I can’t stand excessive leg hair on myself. I take the clippers to my shins now and then. The ideal of stanky, greasy, curly leg hair on my clean sheets is enough to totally disgust me. Especially during the scorching NY swampy summers, where everyone in the city smells like a goddam nacho platter deluxe.
Hell, I’ve even gone nuclear on these pups--I’ve taken a razor to these sexy bipeds in the past, so I’ve experienced the "sheerness" before. Of course I had a legitimate reason to do it--I did it because I was either swimming, cycling, or bodybuilding. Never been in drag (’cept that time I dressed up like a dead hooker for Halloween. But the costume was a little TOO good, and I got my apples groped more than a few times) and I’m not planning on swapping genders anytime soon.
My problem with excessive leg hair is this: Most guys really don’t lather up their legs. Its true. We wash our pits, our "junk", rub that bar of soap in a circular manner on our chests, and a few of us even was our ass cracks, then we hop out of the shower. The legs and feet get little attention. Ergo, the leg hair is probably greasy and stinky, just like the unwashed spaces between our toes.
So, it should be considered regular higiene for a guy to either 1) lather up his stumps and take the clippers to ’em now and then, or 2) to shave that shit completely off. Otherwise that stank hair ends up falling off and finding a permanent home tangled on one of my klilim rugs. Worse yet, the wind picks it up, and carries it directly into my goddam sandwich.
4:27 PM - To all my maniacal admirers: time to break the bank!
To all of my rabid, maniacal fans who totally want me, you may now get a chance to pay for some "special attention" from Yours Truly. I’m gonna open a hooker website and sell myself for thousands of dollars.
Apparently, the 22 year old tart that was sellin her booty to NY governor, Eliot Spitzer, was charging thousands of dollars per hour. She lives in the lower west side of NYC, known as the "meat-packing district". Its a very posh area. Her rent was $3000 bucks per month. (!). She is now selling her story to some tabloid for over $150,000. The bids are still coming in, so this amount is only gonna get higher. Now, Playboy and Hustler want her. Annnnd her music page on "myspace" is getting thousands of hits per hour, and their playing her song on the radio. She’s gonna make shitloads of money.
Eff law school. Waste of time. I’m gonna open a hooker factory, and sell myself for thousands per hour. I know a few tricks. I’m quite talented, you know. Mmm Hmmm. And since you have all been such devout readers of this blog, I’m gonna give my readers a 20% discount on all services. BYO lube. And no cameras!
[Those of you who need a job, and are willing to do ANYTHING for money, I may have a few job openings. Call me.]
The problem with public bathrooms is that guys are fucking pigs. If you look into the womens bathroom, you’ll find that in comparison, they are much cleaner and less stanky then men’s rooms.
Look into any public men’s room, and you’ll notice that guys just piss all over the goddam wall, all over the toilet seat, and on the goddam floor. Sometimes, on the roll of TP. You’d think that with age comes aim. Or courtesy. Nope.
Well, this little problem hits home now and then. For instance, today I was at Starbucks, and I had to take a leak. Someone was in there. So I waited. Behind me was a really cute lady. After a few seconds, the lone bathroom opens, and some guy walks out. I go in, and see that he (or someone before him) had pissed all over the goddam place. There was no urinal--only a toilet. The seat was drenched in piss and a few loose pubes were stuck to the rim (ick). I blamed him But I knew that the lady who was next in line to come in here would probably blame me for the deed.
When I left, I definitely avoided eye contect with her.
2:50 PM - WTF!? My free intrenet situation has abruptly ended. FOK.
I'm forced to write this damned blog on my blackberry, coz my free wireless internet is no longer available.
My neighbor(I'm not sure which one I've been freeloading off of for the past 3 years) must have figured me out. The "linksys" account I've been using is now security enabled!
This may be a good thing, tho. Now maybe I'll get some studying done.
2:43 PM - it smells like a hamburger back here.
Current mood: weird
Note: i'm writing this on my blackberry, so no bitchin about typos!
I'm sitting in the back of the B37 bus which runs from my law school to my neighborhood. The guy sitting behind me has the worst goddam breath ever. I'm tempted to either move seats, or offer him a listerine breath strip. Nah. I'll just breath through my mouth. And he stinks like a happy meal.
Have you left your toof brush here? Well. If you have, and you want it back, ya better commen git it. I'm gonna git rid of 'em soon. My guest toof brush tracking system is a total failure, so I'm gonna hafta start from scratch.
See, there's about 6 of 'em cluttering 'round my sink area, one in the shower, and a few in the "guest toof brush" can in the tool closet (a few of em have been in that can for yea-a-a-rs). There's fancy ones, cheap ones, a red one, 2 blue ones, 2 green ones, a yellow one. . . I think I belong to 3 of them. A blue, a light green (or was it light blue? shit. Can't remember), and a dark green all belong to me. I can't tell if one of the ones I initially believed to be mine is actually someone else's. (I have a pseudo hotel going on over here--people come and go, and leave their toof scrubbers behind).
This morning, in my haze, I almost almost almost used my brother's. (he's crashin at my crib for a while, and his toof shiner is blue, I think). Caught myself in time, tho. I skipped brushing my chompers, and opted for a Listerine breath strip instead.
I think I'm gonna hafta go nuclear here. I'm gonna hafta trash all of 'em at once, and start anew. Yep.
The new system: ONE toof brush ya all can SHARE. It'll be the one labeled: "THE GUEST TOOF BRUSH". Don't worry, tho--I'll dunk it in bleach after each of ya use it.
This is public notice. If ya got one here, and you don't want me to toss it, commin git it. (Except yours, Andrea. Your's is still safely in the envelope, in the tool closet).
I'm sitting in "Commercial Leasing", next to Andrea. We are chatting on Google Chat. Neither one of us knows what the hell is going on in this class. The professor is 89 or something, and he doesn't wear a mic.
4:05 PM me: I really don't know what he's talking about. Andrea: um, me neither. he should really wear a mic tho 4:11 PM me: this is the strangest class setting i've had so far. Andrea: yah, it's kinda cooky
4:36 PM me: Do ya think we ll get a break!? er. . .we'll 4:37 PM Andrea: yah and then there's the next negotiation me: i'm thoisty Andrea: i have water
My Class notes for the last 50 minutes:
Commercial Leasing February 19, 2008:
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Class notes: The group at the front of the class is role playing a commercial lease.
A small lease should not stand in the way of a major deal.
Parent-subsidiary relationship
MRA financing and assigning it to a parent.?
If the parent is a publicly
§7.01: broad general rule.
§7.02:
Dealing with stock transfers
The tenant
I can't wait to represent each and every one of ya on your commercial lease deals. Hunnerds of bucks an hour.
I just got a new phone a coupla weeks ago. The new Blackberry pearl. It's a damned nice phone, and a major upgrade from my POS* old school Nokia that I was using. This thing has all sortsa stuff on it. I get all my email, it has a nice organization applicaton, etc. I even have Mrs. Pac-Man. Nice phone.
I had to use that goddam POS Nokia, which had already been retired to the junk drawer months ago, because I left my new T-Mobile "Dash"** in the backseat of some taxi after a night out at the pub. The Nokia was so busted up from being dropped, etc. It was clogged with dirt and lint. The "2" had to be pressed extra hard. The screen didn't even work all the time. Can you imagine receiving a call and not knowing WHO was calling you!?
Anyway: I finally had to break the bank and get a new phone. I went all out and got a red Pearl 8100, and I love it. Well, I loved it for a while anyway. Except me being "me", the satisfaction wasn't to last. Nope. I had to go and watch the 20 minute iPhone video intro on the Apple website. The new 16 gig gizmo. My mouth was agape. Yes, I've heard lots of things about the phone--I read the papers. But I never really looked. Until just about an hour ago ('round 11:am as I sat here at Starbucks pretending to do some homework).
If you have a cell phone, and you want to be content with it, don't even LOOK at the iPhone. Stay awayyyyyy . . . .
Now my contentment is ruined. My phone is just plain ordinary.
**I paid a crapload of cash for that "Dash"--like $300 bucks or something. But it was a POS. It had lots of glitches, and underperformed on all its promised applications.
4:46 PM - Bad place to sit? I think so! (w/ a doodle enhancement)
I'm sitting at Starbucks--the new one that just opened a block from my apartment--studying like a desperado for my copyright exam tomorrow. I dunno why, but I chose the worst table. I didn't realize it till this happened:
So I'll never sit in that seat anymore. I'm sure the goddam "cougher" had some sort of deadly virus. If that's true, I hope it does its work BEFORE i have to suffer through a 3 hour exam, coz if I get sick, take the exam, then croak, I'll be PISSED.
She tried to run from me (the look on my face woulda scared me too, if I were a cat), but I guess the huge chunk of shit-glue stuck to her ass cheeks slowed her down. 
And the cat--OMG--the cat was totally mortified. I really felt bad for her. She's quite proud, but this was quite embarrassing for her. I know this from the fact that her ears were almost flat and the low, roiling growl that was coming deep from her throat was something I have never heard from her before. 
groggy
Never been in drag (’cept that time I dressed up like a dead hooker for Halloween. But the costume was a little TOO good, and I got my apples groped more than a few times) and I’m not planning on swapping genders anytime soon.
weird
Yes, I've heard lots of things about the phone--I read the papers. But I never really looked. Until just about an hour ago ('round 11:am as I sat here at Starbucks pretending to do some homework).
