On Asparagus
Category: Jobs, Work, Careers

I have a lovely woman that works for me, she is my lifeline. She cooks, she cleans, she love my dogs, manages my life, does errands etc. Without her I would be lost. Oddly enough I never see her. Haven't seen her in months. We have made a tentative brunch date for sometime in May, but mostly we talk on the phone. Sometimes four or five times a day.

She chooses what I eat and makes my lunch for me. I'm not picky as long as it doesn't contain wheat or corn, except when I have pms and leave her a note with some bizarre and mostly unpalatable requests. In short, I live on salad with chicken, steamed veggies and fish. A diet which has come to be througha process of everything else rotting in the fridge. Apparently, when I say I'll eat anything and I'm not picky it's a bald face lie.

The other day she calls me and asks "Do you not like asparagus?"

"No, I like it. I like the way it tastes. I just don't like the smell of my pee in the morning, it makes me feel kind of sick."

Oddly enough, I just read that not everyone has smelly pee after eating asparagus. Apparently, there is some gene that breaks down a certain enzyme, an enzyme also found in skunks. People that have this gene also have stinky asparagus pee.

Her reply.

"Yeah, there is that. I ate asparagus the other day and then had a foursome. I was a little freaked out about if there was a vag smell"

"It makes your vag smell too?"

And it's conversations like this that truly make my world go round. If she ever tries to leave I will be forced to make her my gimp.

Either way I think I'll stick with zucchini.

8:58 PM - 24 Comments - 21 Kudos - Add Comment

Tagged
Current mood: dorky
Category: Life

I was tagged and I'm supposed to tell you 8 things about me.


1. It has come to my attention that I know all the words to every Bon Jovi song. Please note that I have never owned a Bon Jovi album, However, I do have a long commute and after a while Dr. Laura and random AM radio stations start to have a certain appeal. Hence the Bon Jovi epiffany.

I attribute this to spending way to much time in New Jersey as a child. It may be genetic defect of sorts.

2. I recently found out someone that I dated for years, and was engaged to for whopping six hours before I got a rash. (Just to clarify the rash came AFTER the engagement.) wore MC Hammer pants for like three years. I would like to note here that I did not date this person while they were in their "you can't touch this" phase. This is disturbing and wrong on so many different levels and may be cause for years of therapy on god only knows whose part.


3. I work in Colorado Springs. Yes, Colorado Springs. Land of sexually repressed meth-snorting ministers. And as much as I can't wait for a transfer, I have made a few observations. The most important being that there is a direct correlation between Jesus, panty lines, bad nail art and the phrase don't got.

Word to the wise, if you choose to wear diapers under your Dockers in the name of Christ at least make an effort not to sound like total white trash. Hence, you may make one or two insipid people believe that Ted Haggard is not the norm for your brand.

4. I saw 38 Special in concert. I got a t-shirt. I'm wearing it now. In my defense I saw Slayer the same week. Some other stellar musical moments in my life would include, Rick Springfield, Ricky Martin, The J. Geils Band, Lionel Ritchie, Jethro Tull, John Cougar (pre Mellencamp) and Dee-Lite. I didn't get t-shirts from any those magical music moments. Although, I did find a Right Said Fred shirt at the thrift store the other day that was in heavy consideration.


5. Rock of Love with Bret Michaels is my favorite show. EVER. His trials and tribulations are enough to make me piss my painted on jeans. For instance, he dated a stripper for a while. He was explaining one of his deep theories called pole emotion. To summarize: How do I get her off of that pole and onto mine.

The man is a fucking genius by Hollywood standards, even if those standards are culminated in a town hell bent on destroying its women.

I'll leave it at that.

6. My parents were hippies; I learned all my make-up tips form New York Dolls album covers. You can imagine what junior high was like for me. Thank Jesus' panty lines there are no pictures of that era.

7. I quit drinking for two weeks one time. People are so much more entertaining and tolerable when I'm impaired.

8. I work way too much and don't write nearly enough. I'm working on changing that.


Now I'm supposed to tag I can't remember how many people. So I'll just tag whom I feel like.


Joe

Diamond Studded Cougar
Dr. Chee

Carol Hiller

Now I think there are some rule to this whole tagging thing that I didn't follow very well. So everyone i tagged is supposed to write 8 things about themselves and tag some other people and tell them about it.

..

9:35 PM - 20 Comments - 22 Kudos - Add Comment

Cruised in the most unlikely of places.
Category: Life

The state patrol pulled me over this morning. I figured it was for speeding, because like always, I was.

The following is as accurate an account as can be told by me before my first cup of tea.

Old cop and young cop approach my car and motion for me to lower the passenger side window.
" Ma'am, I'm going to tell you why I pulled you over."
Old cop mouth says while I check out my reflection in his wicked ass big-mirrored glasses.

"Oh, You're not going to let me guess?" I said coyly with my most winning smile.

Young cop head now appears in the passenger side window as well.

"You're driving with your headlights on and one of them is out."

"They're always on, the car came that way. It's a safety feature." I say proudly.

"Ok ma'am, I'm going to need your registration, license and proof of insurance, while I'm running that I'm going to have you drive up to where the shoulder widens you're sticking out in traffic and that can be a safety hazard."

"Really?" I say as I dig through my glove compartment creating mayhem out various papers looking for my insurance card. I dig through my wallet and find a dead fly pressed much like a flower between two business cards.

"Ewwww. Dead bug. Gross!" and flick it on the passenger side floor smiling at my reflection and handing my insurance card over for inspection.

"Ok ma'am is this your current address?"

"Ummm, yeah."

Its not,

"Ok ma'am, please pull forward"

As I sit and wait I turn my stereo up again, have a sing along and drink my tea.

Young cop returns

"Ma'am, you need to sign the back of your registration card, it's state law and you could be fined."

"Really?" I say stuffing my still unsigned registration back in the war torn manila envelope and cramming it into the glove box. "Ok."
"Um, ma'am. You need to get your headlight fixed."

"Ok. I was going to get my car washed on Thursday; I'll get them to change it. Which headlight is it? I can't see it from here."

Young cop hands me a card and says he's going to let me off with a warning. I take the card, smile and say thank you.

"Oh, and ma'am…"

"Yes?"

"You might want to get your car to a mechanic to change that headlight, I know a few in good ones in town."

He hands me another card

"My cell phones number is on that if you need help finding one."

"Um, thanks."

A mile or so down the road it occurred to me… I think I just got cruised by the state patrol.

12:06 AM - 28 Comments - 32 Kudos - Add Comment

Personal Ad
Category: Life

Vagina has opening.

Position to be filled immediately.

Send qualifications and letter of recommendation.

7:49 PM - 33 Comments - 22 Kudos - Add Comment

Thoughts while driving 105 MPH
Category: Life

I should change my name to Drusilla.

Eat only potatoes and water crackers.

Then I will fashion clothing as unflattering as my name and new figure out of the latter content holding remains.

It was a rough day.

Then I came home to flowers in my room.

Drusilla smiled.

10:43 PM - 19 Comments - 24 Kudos - Add Comment

Today
Category: Life

Today I saw a child jumping on a trampoline with an umbrella in a lightning storm.

It made me laugh.

Then I thought about getting a boob job.

Then I found sample boxes of Ambien and Botox cream in one of my cabinets at work.

The cream expired in September 2006.

Then I came home and ate a cookie.

That is all.

9:09 PM - 16 Comments - 15 Kudos - Add Comment

Sunday Brunch
Category: Food and Restaurants

I went out for brunch this weekend. I kind of forgot to eat anything except bloody mary's.

I found these pictures on my Blackberry a couple of days later.

I think I had a really good time.



Check out the guy with the pickle.



My kind of nooner.



So the next time I feel remotely sorry for myself remind me to shut up.

11:33 PM - 26 Comments - 24 Kudos - Add Comment

The misplaced head of Alice Cooper
Category: Travel and Places

It's been a long couple of weeks. Los Angeles, Las Vegas, Detroit, Denver, Colorado Springs and finally Boulder.

Not much sleep but a few good highlights, and I'm not talking about when that lamp fell through a plate glass window.

What can I say, I'm Italian, things just fall…off trucks, people fall on knives, and sometimes lamps fall through windows. As we all learned from the Breakfast Club the world's an imperfect place.

There has been Job interviews, punk bands, red eye flights, sleepless nights, corporate trainings, margaritas, overpriced restaurants, suit wearing, tattoo scheduling, shuttles and taxis. Food poisoning, houses with bowling alley's and water slides, lost hotel reservations and what I thought was the misplaced head of Alice Cooper at the airport.

While sitting outside of LAX, suffering from exhaustion, staring blankly into space I managed to focus on something shiny. It was a silver BMW with someone standing in front of it. That someone was a very small and impeccably dressed man.

The thought process went as follows:

That looks like Alice Cooper.
Why does that man have Alice Coopers head?
What did he do with the rest of him?
No neck scars.
So small.
Shiny.
How did he get a head transplanted with no scars?
Do they do that sort of thing?
I should get his doctors name.
Is that rude?
Who's head would I want?
I could get Spock ears.
Starbucks.
Water.
I'm going to Detroit.
Alice Cooper is from Detroit.
I think that Alice Cooper's head is attached to Alice Coopers body.
DUH.
How could you misplace your head?
You would just go find yourself. Right?
I'm glad Alice didn't misplace his head.



Just so you know the head of Alice Cooper has not been misplaced, it's perfectly safe and resting right atop his body. Exactly where it ought to be.

As for me, I think I need some sleep, though Spock ear surgery sans scars would be cool.

10:16 PM - 15 Comments - 18 Kudos - Add Comment

Third Eye Booger
Category: Life

While wandering past a mirror this morning I just so happened to glance over and discover an eye booger…on my forehead, located smack dab between my perfectly shaped brows. At least I hope it was an eye booger and not a regular booger.

I looked closer thinking is that an eye booger on my forehead? I then gleefully squealed at my reflection "Third eye booger!"

Having no one to share this great moment with since I live alone, I ran over to my Peanut, my Pomeranian who was busy vivisecting a squeaky toy on the back of the couch. I crouched down in front of her, pointing to my forehead and said once again with even greater gusto "Third eye booger!"

She looked at me, cocked her head and in a flash licked the booger of questionable origin off my forehead.

So much for spirituality. But that's neither here nor there.

I think I've been suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Some of you know that I had a rather horrible experience at Whole Foods a couple years back involving a singing cashier with greasy hair, and when I say greasy I don't mean greasy in a hip gen-x, indie-rock, shoe-gazing kind of way. I Mean greasy as in, hide-your money under the bar of soap cause she'll never find it kind of way.

I wrote a very angry blog about it. Here it is in its original form well over two years later.



I can't stand people that sing, not people that sing in band, nor us tone deaf folk that fail to hit a single note while rocking out in your car with all the windows up. I'm talking about people who sing while they're supposed to be helping you. The woman checking my groceries at Whole Foods would be a good example.

Now I can only assume that someone, somewhere, most likely a parent or some schmuck trying to get laid led this woman to believe that she could sing. Because in all honesty it's a voice only a mother could love. Possibly a pathetic lie told while dry humping and desperate, and I mean a DESPERATE need to play hide the tofu-salami, Most likely after said schmuck ran out of date rape drugs at a sorority party.

Fine sing, take voice lessons, But what the fuck makes you think it's okay to do while you're at work, weighing my bok choy and running my credit card. I would honestly find it less offensive to watch someone shit on the floor in the seafood department. And what the fuck makes you think that I, or any of the thirty customers lined up behind me, would want to hear that off-key fucking hippie ass teach your children well shit yodel spewing like some Technicolor yawn all over the express lane.

Needless to say I will never be going back to Whole Foods.




My boycott of one lasted over two years. And though it may not appear to be outwardly affecting them I think they lie alone in their beds at night, heads gently resting upon buckwheat pillows, bodies laid out on organic mattress and while silently rocking themselves to sleep they cry on the inside.

My boycott was halted by an unfortunate incident involving driving, low blood sugar, a fat day and only an Arby's in sight. I broke down and willingly sacrificed my morals for the growing girth of my ass and fair trade vegetables.

I made it through the salad bar and most of the checkout line unscathed. And as watched the happy customers ahead of me purchase their products without incident I had my very own Mary Tyler Moore moment. I was gonna make it after all.

How wrong I was.

My cashier, who seemed to have her wits about her decided to show me all of her tattoos.

Tattoos of her spirit guides and proceeded to tell me how each spirit guide originally appeared to her.

I didn't get annoyed, though it could have been out of sheer weakness and the fact I was about to pass out, I don't think I'll ever be clear on this. I just took my salad and started eating it while at the register waiting for my change.

I went with the flow for almost ten minutes, this included smiling, nodding, oohing AND aahing.

I guess if some company sees the importance in letting their employees "be who they are" then they would also see the importance of letting their customers "be who they are."

In this case that would be hypoglycemic.

And yes, from now on I will be carrying a banana with me.

6:53 PM - 34 Comments - 32 Kudos - Add Comment

A Nice Pubic Weave
Category: Life

I wake up at 6:28 every morning. Usually I climb out of bed, put on Lance's blue snowman pajama bottoms that I wore home from his house three years ago after a drunken evening out and a hoodie.

I just want everyone to be warned here that if you ever go out with Lance and end up sleeping over at his house he has two rules, everyone must sleep in pajamas, not pass out on the couch fully clothed sans one shoe as I am prone to do, and everyone must wash off their make up before bed. There have been rumors of him washing peoples faces after they're asleep. Other people's clear skin is a priority in his life, for this I am very thankful.

I Walk to the kitchen open the sliding glass door and release the hounds. I then turn on the wrong burner on the stove to boil water for tea. At 6:41 I realize I've turned on the wrong burner, say fuck, turn off the wrong burner and turn on the correct one with the teakettle sitting atop it.

I then go sit on the sofa and check my two e-mail accounts, read two horoscopes for the day and check myspace mail. Midway through this ritual I realize I've forgotten that I'm boiling water on the stove, say fuck again and run to the kitchen to make my tea. I know it would be easier if I just closed the lid to the teakettle so it would whistle but I just can't stand such an intrusive noise that early.

Every Friday this routine changes a bit when at 7:30 I realize I've forgotten to take out the trash yet again. I open the garage door and start dragging the trashcans to the curb. And as with every other Friday they've already picked up the trash on my side of the street. I drag my trashcans across the street and wave to my neighbor, who like every other Friday, gives me a look like I need to get my shit together, smiles and waves.

This morning after the trash ritual I was standing at the sink, doing dishes thinking about how I haven't had any strange dreams lately, when it hit me. I had a dream last night about pubic hair extensions.

They looked like cornrows, a good weave. They were lying all flat and tidy but then started growing and puffing up until the weave was hanging down to my knees, hundreds of dark braids dangling with gold beads on the ends, The Bo Derek of all pubes.

It really wasn't a Ten in my mind.

I've had dreams like this before, but not for years. I think it's because I went to sleep with pubic hair on my mind.

Now just for the record here, I'm sure you don't want to hear this next part and to be honest, I don't want to discuss it, but it's my life so here goes.

I found a gray pubic hair, just one, but with the big three-five coming up I don't think I'm taking it to well. In fact that's what the significant other and I were discussing before bed last night. My Birthday.

He was being all sweet and shit because normally I love Birthdays; they're like your own personal holiday. So he's being all loving and adorable and saying "someone's got a birthday coming up" and I'm being a total crab ass and all I can say is "I think the gray pube got to me."

I told one of my friends about the gray pube and she smiled and nodded, then all of a sudden she got this horrified look on her face and said, "Wait, you mean on you? Oh god!" and started laughing.

I told another friend and she confessed she had four. When I told the significant other; whom I really need to come up with a name for because typing significant other is getting to me… I'll be taking ideas in the comment section.

So when I told him he said if he had any I'd most likely find them long before he did since I'm the one down there all the time. Bah dum bum. Then he raised his hands to his imaginary audience and said "but seriously folks…"
..

10:29 AM - 32 Comments - 29 Kudos - Add Comment