In honor of…

20 06 2010

My dear friend Chels, aka The Lady of the House from a post of yore, I return to you, oh blog, for another installment of her absolute favorite thing in the world as of 6 AM on a Monday morning, following an evening of drinking.


Enjoy. And happy graduation, dearest Lady of the House.


“I was naked. Seriously, if you look at me again, I’ll call the police.”

“I was naked. Do I have to tell you again? Just because the blinds are open doesn’t mean you have the right to look into my window right when I step out of the shower. It’s a right to privacy, man. I’m serious, the police are on speed dial.”

“I was naked. You were wearing a Detroit Lions jersey and finally, I didn’t mind you staring at me so much. I also appreciate big cats and ruined economies. Next time you’re looking, why don’t you come in? I’ll be waiting. Naked. As usual.”


“You were on the Red Line headed to Addison. I was on the platform at Howard. Our quills poked each other and yours were so sharp, they skewered right through my skin. I got stuck to you and as a result, stuck in the doors when they closed on the left. We’re actually still connected – the “missed” part of it is that I missed my train whilst skewered to yours. If you could give me a ride back home, that’d be great.”

“I saw you at the science fair. I was the one in the ‘Will Rock Music Make Your Porcupine Crazy’ booth. You were at the ‘The Right Way to Pet a Porcupine’ display. The sign said to pet you in the direction of your quills. But baby, I want to rub you the wrong way. Reply if you want to get dangerous up in here.”


“Oh wait, I’m a kind of rock. I’m on the wrong site.”


“I was a black panther. You were probably a black panther, but you might have been a cougar or a jaguar. Honestly, I get us confused sometimes. I drive a Prius, by the way.”

“I was a black panther. You were definitely a cougar, or at least you said you were a cougar. But you might have meant that in the new, slangy sort of way, like you were a hip lady cat who likes to bang young man cats. We talked about how offensive that term was – I wasn’t really listening because I was staring at your tips… of your claws. If you want to change the way you think about cougars, you ought to reply to this message. I can change your life.”

“Seriously, does anyone on here know what a panther is? No one? There should be a hybrid website between missed connections and wikipedia so I can look at pictures and say, ‘Yes, yes I am on the right page now.’ Whatever. Who wants to fuck? M2F only, no fat chicks.”


“I saw you at the Friday social in Henhouse #4. Not the new #4, the old one that’s by #8. It’s a weird system, I know. You had gorgeous plumage, the kind I’d like to pluck before I cook you and eat you for dinner. No, no… that’s a metaphor. I wouldn’t, I wouldn’t really do that! That’d be cannibalism! Ha ha! No… no. I wouldn’t.”

“You: man who told me to ‘bock, bock, bock it up, baby.’ Me: woman who didn’t get your joke. I get it now. Pretty clever. In anticipation of your response, I have eaten several extra pieces of gravel with my feed. You know what that means. No gag reflex.”

“You were ahead of me on a weird, long piece of ground that kept moving towards a great, fiery abyss. It looked like heaven, which is probably why we were both so calm – who couldn’t use a sauna after a hard day’s work of pecking at stuff? You winked at me and then… holy shit, is that a guillotine? Yup, yup, your head just got chopped off. I gotta get out of here. Forget this missed connection, I gotta keep my wits about me, what would Rocky do? WHAT WOULD ROCKY D-”


“I thought I was looking in a mirror when I saw you. Sleek yellow beak, pristine black feathers with an adorable little white breast feathers area. I don’t know if you saw me – I was towards the back, next to the guy with the sleek yellow beak, pristine black feathers with an adorable little white breast feathers area, but in front of the other guy with the sleek yellow beak, pristine black feathers with an adorable little white breast feathers area. It might be a long shot, but I’d like to warm my lonely nights with you.”

“We locked eyes across the glacier. Even though you were not my husband, I agreed to pass my egg to you so I could go get some food. We were so focused on each other that we ended up letting the egg freeze to death by accident. Please respond before my husband gets back. He’s going to be upset.”

“We shared a sardine platter at the Penguins of the World Conference in Greenland. I was giving you a hard time because I’m the kind of penguin that lives in warm weather, and you totally have to live in Antfartica. I only meant it as an opener to ask you to come on vacation to my tropical isle, but you huffed away before I had a chance to invite you. They don’t call us Jackass Penguins for nothing. The offer still stands if I didn’t blow my load on you. Chance! If I didn’t blow my chance.”

This is not an April Fool’s Day Post

1 04 2010


In keeping with my true loves – puns and misunderstandings – I bring you several misheard April Fool’s Day Pranks:


1. The old standby: salt and pepper shaker gags. Switch the salt and pepper. Switch the salt and sugar. Unscrew the top of the salt shaker so your intended target pours way too much salt on his food and gets heart disease. Classic!

2. Call your spaghetti sauce ‘pasta sauce’ repeatedly.

3. Send someone a case of Diet Coke because you think they’re fat. Hilarious AND thought-provoking!

4. Start a blog about balogna and call it a Bablogna.

5. While no one’s looking, put needles in all of the fruit at your local supermarket. Get a job at a canned food company. Reap benefits.


1. Get gas.

2. Don’t get gas.

3. Laugh at someone else getting gas.

4. Put premium into your Toyota Celica.

5. Put sugar in your enemy’s gas tank. Watch the fireworks.


1. It’s Tuesday?

2. It’s not Tuesday.

3. It’s Thursday.


1. Know that your clergymen are abusing children, but shhh! Don’t say anything! That’s the joke!

2. Abuse children and be super obvious about it, even have other people witness it and BAM! They’ll send you somewhere exotic to keep doing your job. Hello, free vacation!

3. Be a known member of the Nazi youth. Wait a bunch of years. Get elected Pope!

4. Make everyone miss the good old days when being Catholic wasn’t as embarrassing and was vaguely normal. Feel guilt for a hundred years for thinking said thought.

5. Use Lent as a thinly veiled weight loss tool. Give up fast food or candy because oh em geez, you can’t live without it. Cancun or bust, spring break 2010.


1. Tell people they won a cruise. Bring them to a boat. Push them in. Have the boat go to Africa, where they will be sold into role-reversal slavery. Send them a telegram that says “HOW DO YOU LIKE THESE REPARATIONS. STOP.”

2. Tell people you won a cruise. Sit in your apartment for 2 weeks, photoshopping yourself into tropical island pictures and boat pictures. Catch up on your shows. Eat pizza. Sleep.

3. Actually go on a cruise and enjoy it. Make sure your intended victim finds out through third parties that you went on a cruise. Living well is the best revenge, after all. You know who said that? Me either.


Slightly Off Terrible First Date Questions

12 02 2010

5 Things You Would Want If Stranded On A Dessert Island:

1. Spork, appropes for both solid and liquid delights.

2. Wet Naps, in case I get sticky.

3. That chocolate syrup that turns into a hard shell when you put it on ice cream, because you can never be too sure if a dessert island is going to include it.

4. Garbage can, for binging and purging.

5. Diabetes kit, for the daily insulin coma I fall into.


5 People You Hope to Eat In Heaven (non-sexual, survival purposes only):

1. William Howard Taft, for the sheer girth.

2. Albert Einstein, for the possible brain osmosis.

3. One of those cloned sheep, to see if there was a difference (assuming animal and people go to the same heaven).

4. That kid who got stuck in the chocolate chute during the Willy Wonka factory tour, because he’s prob delish.

5.  Jimi Hendrix, for the contact high without having to travel to Amsterdam heaven.


5 People You Hope to Eat in Heaven (purely sexual):

1. Heath Ledger

2. Andrew Jackson

3. Marie Curie

4. C. Thomas Howell (presuming that neither of us will be in heaven for a while, but that when we are both there, this will happen)

5. Watson, but not Crick.


5 Ghosts at Your Ideal Dinner Party:

1., 2., 3. The mean ghosts from “Casper” because, like any smart woman, I think that I could change them into better ghosts. They eat food they can’t digest and shit it all over the floor because they love me, that’s all.

4. Bruce Willis in “The Sixth Sense”, moments before he realizes he’s a ghost, so I can have the pleasure of observing the impending awkward silence and then be like, “More wine?”

5. Ghost of Christmas Present. That guy knows how to party, am I right?!


5 Mitch Alboms You Couldn’t Live Without:






This Week in Pun Brainstorms

29 11 2009

I spend a lot of my time thinking of puns for both business and pleasure (by business, I mean I do it at work fairly often).

This week, I had two fairly successful brainstorms with my roommate Kristin via gchat. Having spent the last two years of college speaking almost exclusively in puns with my roommate Patrick, it was nice to get back in the groove of extensive, fast-pace, word play.

Task One: Think of a name of a television show involving as many of the following traits as possible: procrastination, disdain for your friend, being trapped in a closet, the apocalypse, the future, suicide.

Elapsed Time: 40 minutes


Too Loose Noose
Pull the…
Limbo Akimbo
Limp Wrists, Limp Dicks
Suistand By Me
Russian Coolette, Russian Rouldebt, Russian Foolettes, Russian To Let (something happen), Crushing Regret [a stretch, aware.]
Double Barrel Buddies
Shotgun Circle Jerks
Bullet’s Be Friends
Cock and Bullets
Sherlock and Load
Friendly Misfires
Gun Powdered Go-Nuts
A Salty Rifle, Assaulty Rivals
Puttin’ Off the Ritz, Puttin’ Off the Fists, Puttin’ Off the Fits (of Anger), Puttin’ Off the Slits, Puttin’ Off the Hits, Puttin’ Off the (River) Styx
Laser Laterz
Blast Place Ribbon
Laserious Issues
Laser Heir Removal

Eventual Winner: Blast Man Standing

Task Two: Think of a punned out theme for a Holiday Housewarming Party

Elapsed Time: 11 minutes


Joy to the World, Our House Has Come
Welcome to the Sleighborhood
Jingle Bell Block Party
Chestnuts Hosting on an Open Fire
God Rest Ye Merry Housewarming
Here We Come A’Haussailing
Grandma Got Rum Over By A Reindeer, Grandma Got Rum Over By A Grainalcoholdeer
Frosty Brews the Snowman
Feliz New-vidad
Rum Rum Brewdolph
Please Come (to our) Home for Christmas

Eventual Winner: Grandma Got Rum Over By A Reinbeer

Woof. That’s like, a pun a minute, give or take a couple pundred seconds. Some are terrible. Some are terribly delightful.

I am, as always available for pun challenges at all times. Also, if you own a weird greeting card company and are looking for an employee, I work cheap, particularly if you’re looking for gun and alcohol related puns/portmanteaus.

Television is dangerous, y’all.

2 09 2009

I’m watching “Crash Course” on ABC right now, and it is, admittedly, kind of the best. I don’t mean the best. I mean that it is vaguely entertaining for the 30% of my line of vision that is not looking directly at my computer screen. The rest of my eyes are having a way better time than that 30%, particularly the part that is watching my dog try and stay awake long enough to continue to beg for my brother’s Wynton Marsalis. Oh, I’m sorry, I’m being corrected – it’s pronounced chicken marsala.

But, this 30% of my eyes could be having a worse time. They’re entertained. That’s not the point.

The point is: this show is seriously one of the most dangerous “wooo I’m on a game show!” game shows I’ve ever seen. The basic premise is that they put completely untrained randos off the street (but with dramarama relationships like mother-son! brothers-in-law! best friends! natch.) into racecars and have them drive through obstacle courses and over jumps intended to flip your car and THROUGH FLAMES. All to win 50,000 dollars.

Really? So… I can go on “Wheel of Fortune” and risk – at worst – some mild tendonitis in my spinnin’ wrist and win that much plus some sweet trips. Or I can risk life and limb, drive a car towards what most people would consider an instant death, and only win 50 grand? Yeah right, ABC.

I appreciate that this is what America wants to watch. That part of America that is slightly overweight (let’s be real – more than slightly, according to any recent publication) and probably has a lawn ornament or three. But they are Americans nonetheless, and I won’t discount their opinion, especially since we’ve got some cement frogs in our garden, I won’t deny it. But it seems like a terrible move on the production company’s part to choose games that are so dangerous. Why risk having one of your contestants die (oh hey, didn’t see you there VH1) when they could participate in something just as embarrassing and way less dangerous?

Sarah, that’s half the fun! Haven’t you seen the previews for Final Destination 3D? People go to NASCAR races in order to see the crashes!

No, I get it. I love it. But I can’t say that I endorse it. Some alternatives that are just as embarrassing for contestants, and yet safer for the production companies, the real victims in all of this:

1. P-P-Party. This stems from a idea we always wanted to do in college, but did not have the faculties to perform while drunk and didn’t have the cajones to perform sober. Contestants weigh in. They all drink the same amount of liquid. They go through some shitty obstacle course (or trivia. Or a race. Or twenty minutes of commercial, this is all just filler.) At the end of the show, everyone let’s loose and pees in their diapers. Did I mention that they were wearing adult diapers? They are. Final weigh in. Whoever peed the most in their diaper, wins a million P-P-Pennies. Oohhhh noooo!

2. America’s Next Top Fugly. I don’t want to be immodest, but watching television modeling shows is really tough for me because I can never tell if I’m looking in the mirror or not. Because I am literally so attractive, it looks like the television is reflecting the equivalent of my own appearance. I don’t watch television to see people who are JUST LIKE ME, I want to experience the annals of bizarroworld without leaving the comfort of the couch. There is a reason that I’ve seen almost all of TLC’s programming (Half Ton Teen and The Boy Who’s Skin Fell Off are two of the most uncomfortawesome hours of my life) and it’s because people love seeing people who are way worse off than they are. And people who are way worse off than the rest of us love to go on TV so they have at least a couple months between filming and airing where they get to say “I was on TV” but not have everyone know why they were on TV. Basically, this show is The Ugliest Dog Competition, but for people. Bring me your huddled masses and jiggly asses, says Lady LiberTV. Those old “Extreme Makeover: Plastic Surgery Editions” came close, but the winner of this show is not contractually allowed to get plastic surgery for at least 30 months post-filming.

3. “The Parent Trap” – kind of like “Wife Swap”, except the kids find out that their parents have been trapped somewhere, like those people who fall into holes in the ground set out by their enemies! The kids are forced to fend for themselves for two weeks while their parents remain TRAPPED (except not dangerously trapped, comfortable trapped. Like, chaise lounges and HD monitor to watch what their kids are doing.) We get to see kids either hack it or crack it, the parents learn a valuable lesson about how much they can trust/distrust their children, and children learn that it’s hard to be their parents because they suck. Everyone wins, no one gets any cash, and the chances of running into a brick wall are much, much lower.

You’ve got choices, production companies. You don’t have to endanger your contestants and yourselves every night. You’re better than that. Get back to the source of game shows – not explosions, not possible limb loss, but just great, great potential for lifelong embarrassment.

These ideas are all greater than or equal to the brainrape  “Dance Your Ass Off”, so if you are going to go ahead and greenlight these things, please send my gigantic sized check to my PO Box, kthxbye.


Pun time:

What do you call a place where 66% of adults over the age of 20 are considered overweight or obese? (PS – This is a fact according to Newsweek. A terrifying, soul-crushing, embarrassing fact.)


Other acceptable answers: American’t-breath-after-mild-exercise, The US-Heft-A, United Shakes of America (also a good answer to a joke about epilepsy/milkshakes.)

Some thoughts on bugs

1 09 2009

Living in New Jersey in the summertime, I have a lot of experiences with insects. Not in a “hey, isn’t New Jersey so gross? Ew, bugs! Ew, Jersey!” way, because I really like New Jersey, even though bugs are gross. More in a “Wow, there are a lot of different types of bugs, particularly in this vicinity” way, which has a much less negative tone to it.

One might say that I am a bug expert. A bugspert. That would be incorrect, but you are very nice to say so.

Far from being a bugspert, I am more of a thoughts-on-bugspert. A thoughtspert. Here, eat some:

1. Bugs must spend most of the day thinking that they are the last bug on Earth. In my backyard alone, a bug could probably go for a whole day without seeing another bug of their kind. Imagine if you were a bug in a desert! IMAGINE IT! Desolate, hot, and totally alone. I assume it goes something like this: “Ugh, being a bug, is so tough, I’ve got that status report due at 9…P…M… where is everyone? Where are all those other bugs? Where did I even come from? Am I going in the right direction? These pieces of grass all look the same. OH GOD THEY ALL LOOK THE SAME! [another bug passes] Oh, hey, it’s Tom. Hey, Tom! You’ll never believe it, I thought I was the last bug around. You too? You don’t say! Say hi to your wife for me, all right now.” Repeat process about 5 minutes later. Probably more frantically.

2. I like to imagine bugs as having human lives (obvs) but in really, really sped up time. I read somewhere once that flies only live for 7 days. So, that’s roughly 10 years time a day. Day one: the brunt of your childhood. Day two: middle school through college IN ONE DAY. Day three: Marriage, two [million] baby flies. Day four: one [million] accident baby flies. Day five: Wish you could retire from being a fly, but have to keep going to fly work because you’re too young to reflyre. Day six: Prostate problems. You poop in your pants once and don’t tell anyone. Day seven: alive alive alive DEAD. You leave your fly cats to your fly descendants.

3. For the amount of dead bugs I assume exist in the world and die every second, I feel like I have seen very scant evidence of bug death. It seems like the world should be littered with the carcasses of natural death bugs. Where are they all going? Are these bugs eating their dead? Aren’t they ashamed? Aren’t WE ashamed that we’ve made the bugs feel like they can’t leave their dead out in the open and have to eat their own instead? It’s kind of the same way I have never seen a squirrel poop. It must happen. But where? Although perhaps it’s best that we don’t see these miracles of nature. I almost crashed my car once because I was watching a dog poop on the side of the road. If there were bug carcasses and squirrel poop, we wouldn’t worry about texting while driving because we’d all be dead.

4. Butterflies are disgusting looking up front. Keep your weird, nectar sucking curly-cue dick out of my face, butterfly. Get some hands and drink like a regular person. Bug. Drink like a regular bug.

5. Actually, do bugs drink? How do they get water without drowning? Can they osmose? Geez, it’s hard out here for a bug.


In short, where is a worm’s favorite place to live?


Other acceptable answers:  Wormconsin, the Dirt-y South, on a “segmented” bus (this worm is also homeless and loving it).

What did the nocturnal rodent say when he was invited to a lame party?

1 09 2009

“Um… possumbly. ”

Today I started a blog.

Did you feel the world change?

Me too.

Mostly, I just want it to be clear that, no matter what happens, everyone knows that I invented the word ‘possumbly.’ So don’t even think about stealing it, you-kids-on-MTV. I mailed it to myself in the mail which, if my knowledge of urban legends that may be true is as strong as I think it is, means that it is copyrighted.

(I didn’t. I don’t even know how much stamps cost. 44 cents? Possumbly.)