King of Pop!!

I loved Michel Jackson. Not everyone can say that, but I still remember very vividly, being eight years old in fourth grade and telling everyone in school that Michael Jackson was my cousin. Of course that was true, even if that particular Michael Jackson was white, but I meant it. That was my claim to fame and I was sticking to it, no matter what. 

Here on the evening of his death, I find myself mourning in the least infamous of fashions. I've endured the prattling of 'fans' wondering who will get the kids and what their copy of Bad will be worth now. Selfish. I still remember the day I got  'Thriller' on vinyl and don't think I'll be making any money from selling my copy. Tonight we played our favorite of his songs over and over again and sang along each time. I think I listened to P.Y.T. three times. Not much of a moratorium, but it was something. 

I once almost wrecked a car listening to the "Off the Wall" album. I choose to remember him that way, rocking out.  .  . . He was an entertainer above all else, every aspect of his life kept us intrigued.... and I loved him for that reason alone. 

...if I had to choose.

I watched the 90's remake of Night of the Living Dead today and it got me thinking about  how much I love zombies. Then I thought that I also loved vampires as much if not more than zombies.  Then I paused to acknowledge how truly awesome robots are and wondered if I had to play Fuck Marry Kill with the three, what would I decide?

The decision was actually quite easy and took no time at all.

 I'd kill the zombie because frankly I don't want to sleep with or marry anything that wants to eat me......

I'd marry the robot and program it to do my bidding. The possibilities here are endless, you could choose anything from housework to assassinations.......excellent.

Finally, I'd fuck the vampire because they're the sexiest of the three by far..... (I have regular recurring dreams about getting it on with vampires.) 

Wait, he wants to eat me too.... crap. 

Well, there could be a chance he might just take a sip and not drain me completely. Maybe I could  work it into a regular thing. It would be perfect actually, then I'll have a regular booty call on the side since I'll be trapped in a sexless marriage. Think about it, the vampire wins too, who doesn't love a snack after sex? 

Note: The last episode of Buffy is among one of my favorite moments - ever. Oh Spike, how you make me swoon.

...then again my mind is always in the gutter.

I came across this image a while ago but have been extremely lax in my blogging efforts and unmotivated in general. I now have not one but two jobs however and as it turns out being extremely busy makes me want to do more in every are of my life, so here goes.

Admittedly I am NOT the Mayhem festivals target audience, but the graphics on this flyer baffle me. I have no issue with the images of death and destruction, the burning city in the background or even the skeleton in chains (cough - blatant Eddie the Demon rip-off - cough).

What I don't get is the disembodied, flaccid, uncircumcised phallus sprouting from the word Slayer. Is the band into rotting penises? Have Jeff, Kerry and the boys even seen this? That's totally what that thing is though, some dudes dong, right? It can't be an arm because it's too skinny (and red), and if it's a finger (and I think it's too big) where has it's hand gotten to?  

I am thoroughly disturbed by this image.

Ignorance is BLISS

I was told once that I'm extra observant, it's a trait I've always been proud of.  I'm beginning to think however that maybe I should rethink the way I go about things.  I found another hair in a food item today and I got to thinking that I can't be the only one. I can't be the only person noticing hairs and other miscellaneous items in the food she eats. 

That leaves two possibilities for the rest of you. Either A) you're not paying attention, or B) you don't care. I have no doubt that if this particular tub of Heluva Good Bodacious Onion Dip had landed in someone else's grocery cart that this hair would be half way to the large intestines by now. It doesn't matter if that's becuase it was shoveled into someone's mouth at the speed of light, or they were too busy watching their favorite hockey team skate their way to the playoffs (Go Pens!) to see it, I truly believe that I'm one of the few lucky consumers who would have noticed it. I don't say this out of conceit, rather the opposite, because I am tired of being regularly grossed out by curly body hairs in my favorite snacks. I hate it. I wish I didn't care, but do. I'm anal and have cleanliness issues. Luckily I also have a sense of humor (to a degree) and I penned this lovely little note card to the Heluva Good Cheese Company. Hopefully someone there will enjoy it too. 

NEVER be this girl.....

I walked into a restroom yesterday when I heard a couple of teenage girls chatting.  I was immediately annoyed because, well, teenage girls are annoying. They were both in stalls but must have been aware of my presence, I wasn't quiet. 

Then, as I'm doing the job I set out to do the saddest display began to unfold in the form of a conversation. Here is as direct a transcript as memory will allow to the intimate conversation I became privy to.....

pathetic little tart: So you know how I had that abortion the other day? What day was that? Sunday? Yeah Sunday.

note: at this point pathetic little tart got sidetracked because her toilet flushed too long. This resulted in her repeating "Oh my god, Umm... Umm... it just won't stop. Oh my god" for about two minutes straight. During which time I finish my business and flush. 

daft friend: Wait, what were you talking about?

pathetic little tart: What? Oh yeah, like so you know how like I had that abortion?

daft friend: Yeah. (very matter-of-factly)

I exit my stall and wash my hands. Pathetic little tart is staring at me in the mirror and gauging my reaction. I didn't react. 

pathetic little tart: (exiting stall) Well that clinic called me to, get this, 'see how I'm doing'.  They like called and like wanted to know if it worked or not. I was all like, don't you know? And they called on my moms cell phone too. Can you believe it.

daft friend: Now you're mom's totally going to know.

I exited the bathroom, stone faced and proceeded to repeat the conversation in  horror to McMader. 

I'm no prude and am staunchly pro choice. I guess you could say when it comes down to it I'm a quality over quantity kind of girl. Some people enjoy a buffet, some don't. I don't. 

The fact that this girl had an abortion didn't sadden or surprise me. It was that she was so completely starved for attention that she felt compelled to bring it up in front of a complete stranger in the women's restroom at the mall. Her mentioning that she gave the clinic her mother's cell phone number when every kid in America over the age of thirteen is practically required by law to carry one also raised a red flag. 

The whole thing was a cry for help, probably right down to the circumstances in which she got knocked up in the first place. She was only about fifteen and the way she stared me down in the mirror hoping I would react made me want to smack her across the face and then give her a big hug. 

How I Roll....

Every once in a while something will happen that makes me fell like a rock star. This is one of them....
I know it's just a bottle of gin, but it literally has my name on it. How rad is that?  I do drink a lot, and always at the same bar, heck I finished that much of the bottle off myself Saturday night. I got drunk. I like to stick to gin, Kettle One vodka or Yuengling. Shots of Jagermeister are good, shots of Tullamore Dew are not, unless you like puking a little bit right there at the bar, not that it's ever happened to me. 

Rob Cockerham is my co-pilot

When I find a blog I like I become addicted. Once I discover I really dig the content I start to read obsessively. If I can get into the writing style I quickly switch to stalker mode and read everything they've ever posted. The first blog I ever loved reading was The Sneeze, and that's where I learned about Cockeyed. I've read everything on both sites, but particularly love The Sneeze's 'Steve Don't Eat It' and Cockeyed's 'Pranks'.  Plus, in true stalker fashion I follow both fellows on Twitter.

Imagine how stoked I was to see a tweet that Rob from Cockeyed was looking for help with a prank he was planning. I knew Rob lives in CA and replied quickly hoping my east coast location would help secure my place in prank history.  On March 7th I got the call (email actually) I was heading up to the majors, I was chosen to participate in the prank. 

I was so excited to receive my packet in the mail. I got the packet of phony applications and a personal letter from the man himself, I was ready to do some pranking!  

I started scouting out the fast food venues in my area. I wanted my applications to stay put as long as possible. I wanted them to look like they fit in. I don't really eat fast food that often but if I do Taco Bell is my restaurant of choice, I headed there first. It wouldn't work, The Bell has a tri-fold application. The Wendy's by my house had two application centers, but both had two holders each (side by side) and were in close proximity to each other, better keep looking. The Arby's I went to had them right next to the cash register. There was no one in there but us and the employees and the applications were bright red with the picture of a smiling face filling the page. Rob's type filled application would stick out like a sore thumb. I was hoping that Sonic's applications would be outside because that would be an easy drop, but no such luck. 

We finally went to another Wendy's and had success (after a minor set back). It was really fun and I learned I can think on my feet and keep my cool during a crisis.  Go here to read Rob's full story, there's a link at the bottom to my contribution to the prank. You can also read the entire application here - and you should it's hilarious, really brilliant stuff.  Kudos Rob, thanks for including me!!!