So, we've returned from our whirlwind tour of Northeastern Snowstorms, and I don't know about Grantasm, but I'm friggin' exhausted. There is much to say about this trip, but for now, I'm just going to post a picture summarizing our trip before heading back to this nap (as I said, I'm friggin' exhausted).
That's right, folks. This vacation was all about putting stuffed animals into compromising positions, and taking pictures.
A more detailed tale shall follow.
I have been away from my house for approximately seven hours, in anticipation of spending the next week traipsing around the Eastern Seaboard, and I am already missing my poochie!
This picture was taken at one of those rare times Riley was actually interested in what I was doing. I bought this stool at a local Bargain Basement, and it already had her name on it. How could I not get it?
So, Jimmy posted a comment earlier here on the blog about my birthday. He's one of my oldest friends from the St. Cecelia's days (gah!), and he's currently in Iraq, doing very good things. He's supposed to be back soon, but we all know how these things work out...
As if it's not enough that he's halfway around the world, doing his best for his country, he took the time out to make a guest appearance on the silliness that is the Banana World Blog. This is the same man who went all the way to Boston to get my pink Red Sox cap. On the other hand, this is also the same self-proclaimed "fruitcake" with that horrific sausage/Viagra photoshoot...
But I do wonder about him. I believe he thinks I'm actually going to be a year younger than I really am. And he was so excited about posting to the Blog, he did it twice (I deleted the second entry for space's sake).
Nevertheless, he's a sweetheart. If you encounter him when he gets back from Iraq, buy him a Frappucino, give him a smack on the behind, and tell him his country loves him!
I still have to ask his mom for some incriminating photos of him from middle school. You know, to get him back for the Smoked Sausage Sham of 2004.
God, Jimmy, I hope your soldiers don't read this.
I miss you. Get back home so we can get to Vegas, already!
These are in no particular order, of course.
For the upcoming episode of Alias, straight from the ABC website:
"Sydney goes undercover as an earthy social worker and Vaughn as a lascivious, semi-tipsy priest to track down a deadly new bio-weapon."
I don't know why, but it just does.
It's a big day: Jeremy arrives in town tonight, Elektra premieres tonight, and things are going to get off the friggin' chain up in here!
Insert hip-hop/techno music appropriate to martial arts training montages here.
Today is already inherently better than the whole last week has been. I think it started with last night, when I was just about fed up with everything that happened during the day, then got a call from Jimmy's mom, inviting me to dinner. Hitting the Lucky Dill for a Reuben the size of my head was exactly what I needed at that moment. And I managed to find a kindred soul in Shan regarding the first thing that sucked from this week, and we talked about it some last night, too. That has been bothering me all week, but I suppose it's gotten progressively better.
Then, when I got home last night, having reached Critical Mass after the Reuben and complimentary cheesecake, my bro and I decided to watch Evil Alien Conquerors, which has a whole slew of actors that I dig, including a surprising, uncredited, and Oscar-worthy performance by Tori Spelling (did I mention that I'm wearing my "Sarcasm: One of the many services I provide" button today?). Seriously, it was dumb, but I was somewhat entertained.
Woke up this morning, and it was raining like a bitch. Riley and I ventured out, but she got soaked so fast that we didn't accomplish much. I figured it was just a nice pre-rinse before heading to the groomer's. I took her there, where it was bustling with pooches not quite as attractive as the Boodie, then headed out to run errands. Eventually, I ended up here, which started out the day as the Second Place Panera until a few moments ago, when I not only ordered my Asiago Cheese Bagel, but pleasantly discovered, upon reaching the beverage station, that they now have Splenda!
Choirs of angels, rejoice!
...Nothing, because I have to squirrel away what little ducats I have for my trip in TEN days! Huzzah!
Again, I am at Panera. I tried the one near work, the one consistently acceptable in their accoutrements, and they were packed to the gills, not a place to sit. So, I decided to tool over to the runner-up location, and I ran into Melissa, who is apparently quite grateful to me for lending her my first season Alias, as she now has a new crush in Jennifer Garner.
I told her to get in line behind those of us with hetero-girl crushes on both her and Michael Vartan. She told me she was going to kick my ass, because she and Miss Garner "have something that you can't understand." I told her I could kick her ass because I had a lower center of gravity, and Erin taught me how to fight dirty. Then, of course, she went to the old standby: "Oh, yeah? Well, I'm a dike!"
She clearly thought she had the advantage, playing the ol' Rainbow Card. I had something, though.
"Oh, yeah?" I countered. "I'm a straight girl who hasn't had a date in months. Still think I can't beat your ass?"
She thought for a moment. "Yeah, I guess you could." End of argument. Advantage: Breeder.
Watching the Girls Golden right now... the episode with George Clooney as the cop. He had so much hair then. Adorable. I bet when he got up in the morning back in the 80's, he had the cutest bed head. Kind of like Boo-Riffic:
Did I mention that ever since I've had Riley, I do that thing with my tongue all the time now? Weird.
Either way, I'm sure George's bed head during the Seth Gecko era, was, well, probably pretty close to how his hair normally looked at the time. Seth Gecko was harsh!
"I may be a bastard, but I'm not a fucking bastard."
Maybe I'll watch that after this episode is over.
My car managed to find its way back to what is quickly becoming my favorite Panera (save for the lack of available Splenda packets). My 2 o'clock rescheduled, I've got some time, and being away from the office for a bit is definitely a good thing. Chocolate croissant is currently in my possession, there's another damned married cute guy across from me, and I've got streaming radio going. Now playing: "Sussudio" by Phil Fucking Collins. Rich, just rich.
Okay, I've turned off the stream. Despite having a vision of Christian Bale discussing the ramifications of Phil Collins on 80's culture, it was just too much.
"Now, 'Sussudio'...."
Anyway, I just thought it was nice that the delivery driver trying to get in a quick lunch at the table next to me offered a complete stranger (me) his bag of chips. I politely declined, as the chocolate croissant is already doing its work, but it was still a pleasant gesture. Granted, he probably would've thrown his chips out anyway, but still. Hooray for delivery guys with bald heads and goatees who offer you their chips (full bags, no less)!
I know, I know. Shut up and get more soda.
Why the hell doesn't this joint provide Splenda?!?! For the love of the children (and the "tiny, tiny babies")!
I am coming off of what I can only think of as the most trying 36-hour span I've lived through in a while. Suffice it to say, I've had a headache for two days, an extremely short fuse, and I've seriously been considering getting work as a car salesperson (I'm not even kidding).
But I have faith the week will get better, because as luck would have it, I managed to chat with a friend I haven't spoken to since my sophomore year in college, and we exchanged the customary "Whatever happened to...?" gossip. That, and my vacay is less than two weeks away. And, I have a Hallmark Hall of Fame tele-movie starring Jennifer Garner to look forward to.
I'm telling you, everything's coming up Millhouse!
Particularly for Jimmy... It seems in what little downtime he gets, he has way too much time on his hands. Por ejemplo, this is what we received via e-mail a couple of weeks ago:
This picture was labeled "Before,"
This one was labeled "After." Note the horrifyingly large Viagra. Must be government grade, or something.
Dammit, we've got to get that boy a hobby.
Once again, I'm at Panera. I think I found the one I like most. The good thing about it is that they have more booths with electrical outlets, and these booths are in the back, near both the soda fountain and the restroom facilities. The only thing is that it's kind of far from my house.
I'm currently riding out the tail end of the lunch rush. I've been here for quite a while, and managed to have a decent chocolate croissant and soda in the process. The overhead music here has become increasingly loud, so I'm blaring live internet feed on the headphones. I find just a little bit of irony in the fact that "Shout" by Tears for Fears is playing right now.
So, I'm looking across the way at a guy who's been here a bit longer than I have, also on his laptop. Earlier, he sounded like he was conducting a business call on his cell phone. The kicker was, he was sitting at his table, with his hands-free headset plugged into the phone, the earpiece in his ear, and the microphone in his hand, pulled up to his face so he could talk into it. Then, he got so in to his conversation, that he got up from his seat, cell phone in one hand, boom mic in the other and started pacing around in front of his table as he spoke, loud enough for everyone sitting in our end of the building, with the microphone so close to his mouth, it looked like he was going to eat it.
Now, tell me if this defeats the purpose of having a hands-free headset.
If you'll excuse me, I have to go shoot dirty looks at a trio of snotty rich girls who are loudly telling everyone their business in the booth next to me. Send for the Gendarmes if you hear a ruckus.
"Great job, man. I mean, I thought you were really retarded. You're just as good as that Corky kid, and he's actually retarded. I mean, if there's some sort of Retarded Oscar, you would win, like, hands down, kick his ass!"
Yes, this evening was good. I left work at 8PM and hauled ass home so that Riley and I could be ready for the 2-hour Alias extravaganza beginning at 9.
For the next two hours, we were immersed in espionage and pretty looking government agents. 'Twas great. This season is going to kick my ass!
Don't hate us because we're beautiful!
Oh, what I'd give to be Jennifer Garner's thigh. Wait, did that come out right? Crap.
And right before I started watching, I read an article regarding Love's upcoming sitcom on ABC, also starring Ed O'Neill. Cool thing number one: Love's going to have another show. Cool thing number two: Al Bundy is going to play her boss. Cool thing number three: the article mentioned that Alyson Hannigan, Willow on Buffy, is joining the cast.
Too. Much. Joy!
I told Danhole this news. Immediately, his only two questions were "When is this happening, and when can I join the cast?" Oh, silly, silly Quarterican!
After viewing the season premiere of Alias, my bro and I sat down to watch Shaun of the Dead (more hilarity). Now, before going off to bed, I've got Maury on in the background. What a triumverate of quality viewing! (Okay, maybe I meant "duo," or "tag team"... back again! Sorry.)
Now, here's what I don't get, as I hear Maury in the background. It's yet another paternity test episode, and they're talking about this guy getting his fiance's older sister pregnant (!!!shocker!!!). Now, the thing I don't get, is why most of these wannabe thuglifes have to refer to women as "females." Of course, there is nothing technically wrong with using the term, but it's like they can't mix up their vocabulary at all. I'll admit, it was cool when Ice Cube used it in Friday, but since then, it's lost its lustre somewhat. And they've got to put the extra emphasis on that first syllable, as if saying it as loud and harsh as possible will give them "street cred."
(Can't believe I just used the term "street cred." For shame!)
I guess that's what happens to you when your only exposure to the outside world is repeated viewings of Maury and Springer: you end up on one of said talk shows looking to prove/disprove paternity, and get into cat fights until someone's hairpiece comes off. Hey, at least I mix it up a bit: I also watch Cheaters. :)
Oh, wait, here's another nugget of joy from a Marshall Mathers stand-in on Maury:
"If I had a girl that fine alone in a hotel room, I guarantee you that her ass would be bouncing like a low rider in a Dr. Dre video."
Classy. I'd better shut this off and go to bed before my IQ plummets any further.
There, I said it. After a week off and many mornings spent sleeping in, I find myself hard-pressed to find the motivation it takes to go to PMS tomorrow morning. Something tells me I will fall off the caffeine wagon sometime around 7:30AM tomorrow. You can pretty much set your watch to it.
My only hope is that tomorrow is a slow day. I know I only have a couple of kids to see at PMS, then I'll head into the office for the afternoon and evening. The only comfort I'll have is that nobody else will want to be back at the office, so hopefully everyone keeps their mouths shut and keeps to themselves. I, of course, will be spending a good amount of time trying to work LoLo's latest chestnut into regular conversation. This particular chestnut just makes me chuckle, and luckily, I've received her permission to post it here:
"[Dirty Dancing:] Havana Nights was awesome... Made me proud to be Cuban."I kind of wanted to ask her if it made her proud to be Cuban in the same way Evita made Dan proud to not be Argentinian, but I didn't think it would play well.
I love that friggin' movie. It's on cable right now, and every time, I have to stop and watch it.
So, the first day of the new year went by with relatively little incident. I spent most of the morning dead to the world, then had lunch with the family, then puttered around the house until meeting up with Quincy and Ryan for drinks to celebrate Quincy's birthday. I managed to put away only one caramel appletini before we headed out so I could grab some dinner. There, I further punished my digestive system by not only ordering dinner, but some ridiculous dessert, to boot.
I sit here before this blog, feeling like a beached whale, waiting for a really good burp to release the evil within. Back tomorrow.
Once again, Kelly Marlene Taylor wishes you the best of the holiday season!
You think she has copies of this picture hidden somewhere in her house?
Back later with absolutely nothing!
