My Absolute Favorite Activity

19 02 2010

I love it more than watching TV.

I love it more than drinking.

I love it more than drinking and watching TV at the same time.

My favorite thing to do, and what I think everyone’s favorite thing to do should be is: taking themed pictures.

Improv + Photography + Narcissism = Hilarity for you and your friends, Mehlarity for your acquaintances, Jealousy from your frenemies who are clearly not as fun as you.

All you need to do is get a camera or webcam. Have several friends. Be in front of the camera. Call out totally random things and take a picture of your interpretation. Rinse. Repeat.

Some examples from a weekend of photographical debauchery and hard-to-obtain-levels-of-delusional-grandeur:

“You discovered electricity, but then you got electrocuted.”

“You live in Appalachia, and this is the first day you’ve ever seen or heard of the internet.”

“You sneeze in the midst of a very important corporate presentation. Deborah saw.”

“Said sneeze makes you so embarrassed that you puke everywhere. Including on Deborah.”

“You see a homeless orphan child on the road, who asks you for money.”

“After taking a class in the Religion department, you finally have your first interaction with God.”

“You can’t be entirely sure, but you’re pretty convinced your identity’s been stolen.”

“You’re a passenger aboard the good ship Titanic and you’ve just been informed that not only is the boat sinking, but the life rafts are full.”

(please note firstly how well we’re taking it,
and secondly, how much my Titanic sinking
face looks like my gross orphan face.)

More to come from less recent themed picture extravaganzas. Also, a list of themes to get you started on your own little adventure into being the center of your own universe.





Whoops, I forgot.

12 02 2010

It looks like “about two weeks” is the time it takes for both me to recover from Jersey Shore and for people to stop ending up on my blog because of J Woww boob searches.

And now J Woww boob will lead people here again. Vicious, vicious cycle.

In actuality, I took the last two weeks to reassess my life plan and subsequent life skillz. A few too many drunk dials and I took two weekends off of heavy drinking, which was pleasant, if boring.

Also, I applied to grad school. Because my assertion that “I will never go back to school” did not hold too much water. Like every gallon of milk I seem to buy, it didn’t lose all of its liquid, but I had to put the remaining liquid in a big bowl and drink it with a ladle, risking mysterious disease. (That doesn’t happen to anyone else?) So I decided that now, not later, should be the time for me to get a master’s so that later, not now, I can be a teacher. When I’m tired of LA and I want to live in the suburbs and still be vaguely relevant to a group of teenagers. That’s the game plan.

This all boils down to “I was too busy to write things down.” I started working 6 days a week. Not pretty. But kind of hilarious sometimes. The giggles that transpire when I can’t think straight.

But, I’m back. I’ve got some time and thoughts today and since, for whatever reason, the ENTIRE OFFICE IS NOT HERE, I will probably write some stuff today. It’s hard to write without Jersey Shore in my life. J Woww Boob.

Today’s lack of office reminds me of the opening scene of my favorite Northwestern student film and my magnum opus of acting, Vomorama. Which you can watch right now:





Animal Kingdom Missed Connections

12 12 2009

Because yesterday I ended up on goldfishconnections.com trying to figure out how Imma get my goldfish fed when I go home for Christmas: Extended Director’s Cut. They claim you only have to feed goldfish every 4 days and they can survive a week without food. I claim that how can you NOT feed those little googly eyes every day? How could you not feed anything every day, except sharks, spiders, and snakes? Whatevs.

The point is, upon speaking with my friend Malcolm, he mentioned that maybe I would meet my husband on that site. I said it’d have to be called goldfishmissedconnections.com for that to happen. He wrote me a goldfish missed connection.

Which made me think about other animals, as per usual.

Goldfish Missed Connections

“I was gold. You were gold. You were swimming around in circles for an hour. I was pretty much following you. We shared a meal and, I think, a moment.”

“You were behind the plastic green tropical plant. I was… man, where was I? You were behind the plastic green tropical plant. I was… man, where was I? You were behind the plastic green tropical plant. I was… man, where was I?”

“I was swimming around, eating some rocks and spitting them out because it turns out they were not good. You were skillfully floating around upside down, sunbathing. I yelled to you to ask you how you were doing that, but I couldn’t hear if you responded. I’m listening now.”

Turtle Missed Connections

“We climbed up on the log at the exact same time, you with your forest-camouflage shell. I lost y- oh no, wait. I can still see you. You haven’t really moved, and neither have I. Hey, I’m Ron. Tina? That’s a pretty name. How big’s my tail? Girl, I don’t know if you can even deal with this biz.”

“You were stuck upside down on your back when some gigantic creature with what can only be described as ‘freckles’ picked you up in  his claws and put you that way, letting out a maniacal and guttural sound. I tried to help you, but I couldn’t get enough momentum to flip you over because I am a turtle and can’t go fast. Sorry.”

Banana Mixed Connections:

“You were a brown beauty. I’m yellow with a little brown spot from where I fell when I was sooooo drunk the other day. If you’re down with the swirl, so am I. See you at breakfast?”

Cat Missed Connections:

“You were asleep. I was asleep. Actually, I didn’t really see you.”

“I laughed when you puked on the floor. But then I saw you digging around in my poop, and I knew it was love. We made eye contact; you hissed and accidentally puked on the floor again. Please, respond if you remember.”

Giraffe Missed Connections:

“You had a long neck. I had a long neck. I thought I was looking in a mirror, but then I realized I was looking at a beautiful angel. You ever think about going pro? With a neck like that, you could be in pictures, baby. I’m an agent, by the way. You’re going to want to respond to this one.”

“I was galloping really weirdly because our bodies are evolutionarily bizarro. You were so small, like a little dwarf giraffe, maybe only six feet high! Like a little baby giraffe. Oh, wait. You were a baby giraffe. Call me in two years.”

“We were nibbling on a tree together over by that one watering hole where Steven got devoured by like, eight lions last week. Our tongues touched by accident. You giraffe blushed. I started to say something, but you galloped away. It wasn’t going to be anything gross. All I was going to say is ‘Man, with tongues this long, it should be called kisssssssssing, am I right?’ I miss you.”

Gorilla Missed Connections:

“You and I were sitting back to back, picking at stuff on our hair. I don’t know if you were, but I was eating all the stuff I was finding. It was really delish, and I’d love to take you out to dinner one day and eat all of the stuff off of my body. Together.”

“I was getting pretty mad and beating my chest because some douche with weak sauce was stepping all up in my territory. You were discovering the basics of language and using your hands to communicate with some hairless gorilla-esque thing. I think your name was Koko. Please, Koko, how do you say ‘I feel a connection’?”

Aaaannddd I could do this all day it turns out. Recurring feature? I’m back to being an animal blog, whoops. And awesome. And mostly whoops.





I know how you guys are getting here…

8 12 2009

… and I like it.

My favorite thing about WordPress is that they tell you the search engine terms that lead people to your website. First of all, genius. Second of all, hilarious. Most importantly, ridiculous.

Here’s a breakdown of how, exactly, my dear readers have been getting to me in recent days:

1. Searches for “Lady Gaga Marilyn Manson same person” or something along those very specific lines have netted a total of 24 visitors. Twenty four! So not only was this not as original of a thought as I previously expected (if you had been inside of my mind the first time I thought it whilst at a random party, you too would have thought I was geenz) but it is apparently not as far-fetched as expected either. We all kind of think Lady Gaga and Marilyn Manson are the same person. I’d put a good three dollars on at least one of those visits being from Lady Gaga and/or Marilyn Manson. And three dollars to me is like, six million dollars to real people.

2. Searches for things involving the words “upside down” have netted 3 visitors. And not just any old search for “upside down”, but the following, very specific “upside down” things:

  • “Upside Down Puke”
  • “Upside Down Aquarium Secret”
  • “Why Can’t Humans Survive Upside Down?”

I’d really like to search these myself, because why can’t humans survive upside down? Or can they? I hope so. More specifically, I hope it’s a super rare chromosomal abnormality that makes it so certain humans can survive upside down, and these humans are going to do well for themselves when the gravity on Earth goes laffy taffy and people will literally have to survive upside down. Or in the future when people fall out of their spaceship cars and have to survive upside down until the spaceship tow truck comes along and with all the traffic that’s going to be up there, geez, it could take a while.

Also upside down aquarium secret? I’ll assume this is from some sort of video game. Otherwise my goldfish has some explaining to do.

3. Three separate searches for the Half Ton Teen or the 650 Pound Virgin have led here. I remember mentioning these guys several times on Twitter, and so I can only assume my interest in TLC shows has wound up on this blog through osmosis. Also, having a tag called “obpleasity” was probably a big help. But yes, these ones made me particularly happy about the internet.

4. Two each for Tom Arnold and Viggo Mortensen. Now if only Tom Arnold and Viggo Mortensen would respond to my dinner party invitations, we might all have something to talk about. Besides “Carpool”, obvs.

5. Random faves: “catsuits”, “puke nauseous”, and “quite possumbly.” Because what is a blog without a good mention of skin-tight pleather, throwing up on many many (god, so many, I’m sorry) many occasions, and the punchline of a joke that is only slightly decent? Nothing, that’s what.

The statistical analysis part of my brain has convinced the other, more worldly parts of my brain that all of these random searches must mean I am really accomplishing my original goal: write some totally random stuff, have no specific theme at all, and someday, totally random people will find you in really weirdo ways. Although the statistical analysis part of my brain only got a 4 on the AP Statistics test, so it could be a whole point off of what it really means.

But that’s okay.

—— JOKE ALERT ——-

QUESTION: What is an Alaskan’s favorite porno?

ANSWER: Up the Asskimo.

ALTERNATIVES: Glacial Facials, The In-yo-tits (like the Inuits), Polar Opposites (also possibly a RomCom or buddy cop film, but in this case, a mixed race porno), Teabaggin’ (because who doesn’t love riding toboggans?)





The Case of the Unclaimed Vomit

29 10 2009

In my effort to reinvigorate my abilities to “blog” and “document” and “beat the unemployment boredom”, this story is one I meant to write about a month ago, when it first happened and when it was still a big mystery. Correction: it still IS a big mystery, but not necessarily one that I think about anymore.

Which is probably good, because I believe I think about throw-up far too often.

The Crime Scene: Ms. Lady’s apartment. Ridge and Davis. Heavenston.

The Set Up: Several friends who have not seen each other in months, some in nearly a year, are gathered for a reunion of sorts. Like any good reunion, this reunion involves yelling and screaming into all hours of the morning and attempting to stay up drinking until 9 AM, when the Lady of the House has to leave to attend the first class of the school year. Flawed? Certainly. But some of us died trying. We made it pretty far into the night. Visits from other people we’ve known throughout our college years peppered the evening, replete with a lot of random pictures taken on a Nintendo DSi, of all things. There was singing. There was dancing. There was a secret tryst or three. There. Was. Chaos.

Circa 6 AM, all of the non-sleepover revelers had dispersed back to their selected homes and those left were the travelers staying over. We all survived another hour or two staying up. The Brothers Maguire passed out first. I stayed up with Ms. Lady until she actually did “pull herself together” (quotes because the effort was strong, but ultimately, not great) and go to class. Thus, I went to sleep around 9 AM, when she was gone and everyone else slumbering.

Dilemma: Sometime between that 9 AM parting and re-awakening around 1 PM to pee, someone in our midsts puked all over the bathroom.

And I don’t mean a little bit. I mean like, swamp conditions. You sunk my battleship sort of puke. It was everywhere. Too drunk/tired/confused/disgusted to do anything about it, I left it, used all of my leg muscles to pee without touching the puke, and went back to my spot on the futon.

Around 4 or 5 pm, everyone woke up and suddenly, the vomit was not as easy to ignore. This is a 3 BR, 1 Bath set-up, my friends. There is only so long that a bathroom can be out of commission with insides debris. After the Lady of the House cleaned up, the question still remained: who woke up in the middle of the night (or mid-morning, to most people), puked all over the place without waking anyone, left it without even an attempt to clean it, went back to bed, and then completely forgot about it?

The case was afoot.

Suspects:

1. Myself. I DIDN’T DO IT. Not only did I not eat enough to do all of that biz, I was asleep last, awake first, and apparently starting to sober up by the time 9 AM rolled around. Also I would’ve at least wiped the seat off. Probably would have left the peripheries as they were, but the seat would’ve been sittable.

2. Lady of the House. Doesn’t remember it. Went to class during the time that she would’ve puked. Although, curiously, she never made it to class and returned from her full day of classes circa 11 AM after giving up on going to class and having brunch with a homeless man instead. Curious indeed. She had the food. She had the time frame. But why wouldn’t she clean up her own bathroom? It doesn’t quite add up.

3. Brother #2. Passed out first, woke up last. Slept through at least 2 hours of conversation taking place right next to him. Didn’t feel this kid even roll over in his sleep on the futon, let alone get up and puke and come back down. Unlikely.

4. Brother #1. Our main suspect. Not the kind of kid who would ever clean up his own puke. Also definitely the kind of kid who pukes everywhere (one time while we were roommates he puked all over his bed and instead of cleaning it up, just put his sheets in a garbage bag and went back to sleep. Left the garbage bag in front of a fan to waft the smell throughout the rest of the house. Awesome). Spilled a glass of wine all over himself and the Lady’s bed and continued to sleep in it that very night. But does not remember vom-ing.

5. The roommate. This kid’s a wildcard. Everyone had just met him. He went to a bar for a long time and then came back – who knows what he could have eaten and dranken there? Pretty sure he puked at the bar though, so would he have had the stamina to continue to puke later in the evening? Seemed to stay in his bedroom throughout the evening. Claims it wasn’t him. Hard to tell.

6. The mystery roommate. In my four days at this apartment, I did not see the third roommate once. Is it possible that she came home for a few hours, puked, didn’t clean it up because she knew she could get away with it, and then left again? Possumbly. Sherlock Holmes wouldn’t rule it out, and neither will Sherlock Hayden.

Case Status: Still unsolved. No one will admit to it. The Lady of the House eventually cleaned it up (why was she so comfortable cleaning up the vomit unless it was her own HMMMM?) and the day continued eventually. All fingers point to Brother #1, even though he will deny it up and down. That shit-eating grin and past experience with projectile lots-of-things-ing in beds/bathrooms/bushes make it a little tough to believe this repeat offender.

All suggestions to solving the case welcome.





Puke Puke Puke

16 09 2009

For many different reasons, I have thrown up quite a bit in my life. No, no, don’t pity me, those of you who claimed to have never thrown up (what’s wrong with you? Why are you so healthy?), it’s really not that bad. In fact, it is sometimes super hilarious.

The top 5 most interesting places I have ever chucked it up:

5. At my place of business: This is a four-fer; I’ve thrown up at most places I have ever worked. There’s nothing quite like realizing in the middle of a customer transaction that you are going to lose it all, going and losing it all, and then coming back and finishing your transaction. Due by 6? No problem. You need copies? BRB.

4. A church during a funeral: Really bad news bears. A bagpiper gave me a hankerchief from his pocket to wipe the puke off of my face and then suggest I keep it because he didn’t want it back. This one was pretty regrettable, but boy, did I look like the most upset mourner of the day.

3. In the car on the way to the morning-after-the-wedding brunch: My cousin got married in Cape Cod. The first time I had ever experienced the maxim, “Everyone’s 21 at a wedding.” The next morning was not pleasant, partially due to the No ID? No Problem! attitude of the bar we attended after the reception, partially due to the Raw Bar of seafood at the reception. This, coincidentally, was also the second strike against scallops on the books for me. The next morning, I threw up in the car on the way to someone’s house to have an outdoors seafood brunch (disgusting even if you are sober). Lucky for me, I rarely travel without plastic bags at the ready, just for this very reason. The initial throw up was not bad. But sitting in the car for a couple of hours while my immediate family was at the brunch and my extended family continuously walked by the sliding door of the minivan, generally heckling me, was the pits. Followed by the 3 or 4 hour ride back to New Jersey. Not one of my finest hours. Hopefully not to be repeated at this winter’s sequel, Your Cousin’s Getting Married 2.

2. Theater and Interpretation Center at Northwestern University during Basic Acting: This class was on Fridays at 10 AM. Not one of my better scheduling choices. Excused myself during Group 1 of the Improv exercise to get a drink. Puked my guts out and got back before Group 3 of the Improv exercise. Participated in Group 3 with flying colors – I believe we were pretending to be at a bus station and I was pretending to be a bus inspector from a rival bus station. I got an A in the class, no bigs. My favorite part? Girl in the next stall: Are you okay? Me: Yeah, it’s just a strawberry poptart.

1. The Vatican: In the lobby between the Sistine Chapel and the Vatican on the Euro Trip after high school. I gave the chaperones my full sob story, I was chronically ill and on new medication and geez, there is no good breakfast in Europe, I just couldn’t deal with it. True sob story: we got really drunk the night before because it is Europe and even though we were told not to do shots, we did shots. And then woke up at 8 am to go sight-seeing. And guess what? My little, high school body was not as seasoned at drinking as it would soon become. Once again, chronic illness saves the day and I don’t even get in trouble. On the down side, I did have to wash the throw up off my feet in the bathroom and then ride the Italian subway covered in vom dot com back to the hotel. A fitting punishment.

There are so many, many more places that I have puked in my life. While driving, at malls, at offices, on public transportation, at sporting events, at parties, at the movies, etc. This entry is also making me super nauseous, so I hope to stop reminiscing about all of this for a few more days.

——

What is a bulimic’s favorite movie?

ANSWER: Heaving Las Vegas, starring Sickolas Cage.

Acceptable answers: Pixar’s (Throw)Up!, The double feature Beauty and the Feast, followed by Cool Hand Puke.