CONSPIRACY THEORY

There just so happens to be a conspiracy conspiraizing in YOUR BACK YARD (read: my parking lot).


THE FACTS:

Mike and I have lived at our current, colorful locale for the past two years (come August). In these two short years, I have gotten two flat tires in the parking lot. BOTH flat tires were due to nails/screws.

THE EVIDENCE:


"That's not a conspiracy, that's just bad luck" you might say. Or, "Maybe you shouldn't litter your parking lot with nails/screws." WELL, SCREW YOU!!! (See what I did there?).

But there's more!

THE MORE:

Mike has ALSO gotten two flat tires in the two short years we have lived here. (I have yet to confirm whether they were naily/screwy).

"Whoa! Mike got two flat tires too! THAT'S A CONSPIRACY!" you say. [Sidenote: why is it always that when a girl complains/mentions something it doesn't exist, but when a BOY says so, it's taken as cold, hard fact? Maybe I should blog about this...]

And just look at the lame suckocity that resulted from said conspiracy!

THE LAMESUCK:


"Dang! That's pure lamesuck!"
"Double dang!"

Anyway, as with all good conspiracies, many questions arise.


THE QUESTIONS:

Where did all these nails/screws come from?
Why have they congregated in my parking lot?
Why do my tires feel the need to run over said nails/screws?
Why do the nails/screws feel the need to get all up in my tires' business?

Are aliens behind the nail/screw deposits?Is the government trying to cover it up by placing them in my tires?


Is the government behind the nail/screw deposits?
Are aliens trying to cover it up by placing them in my tires?



Well, I am working at NASA this summer, so I plan on finding out. Or I could just ask Scully the next time she's in my bed filming an episode for the X-Files.

THE PANTSUIT:

BECCA ANGRY

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As any of you who have crossed me know, I can have an anger 'problem' sometimes. Or I like to blame smashing your face into a wall on my anger 'problem.' I mean, it's not a problem if it gets the job done, am I right?


I. AM. RIGHT.



This is me when I'm angry:


I'm angry, but I'm still HILARIOUSLY cute. It's another 'problem' I have.

Anyway, the point of this post is that there have been those who have ventured to cross me in the past week and I am going to see to it that THEY PERISH INHUMANELY AT THE HANDS OF RABID POSSUMS.

I won't bore you with the boringness that is my adviser telling me I need five credits when I tell her I only need one and then I sign up for six credits and then later she tells me, "Oh, you only need one."Or the person at Continuing Ed saying I need to go to Financial Aid and then Financial Aid telling me I can only pay at Continuing Ed.

I won't tell you about the people who think that I am made not only of time, but also of money. THE JERKS.

No, I am going to tell you about the people who really grind my gears. The ones who really crumble my cookie. And let me tell you, I LIKE MY COOKIES INTACT.


And I'm just going to preface my rant by saying, "Yes, maybe I am unreasonably angry about these events. DEAL WITH IT." And then you'll say, "No, YOU deal with it." And I'll say, "I'LL DEAL WITH YOU." And then I'll smash your face into a wall. Everyone wins.

Let's get started, shall we?

Many of you know that I WANT THE FUCKING NEW DROID (because I won't shut up about it). Well, when I was in NY earlier this month, my fam and I went to Verizon SO I COULD GET IT. Well, as we were waiting, this guy comes up to us and starts telling us stories from the Bible. As he's talking, he takes breaks from the story of King David watching someone sunbathing or something to tell my Mom she's a great mom and to tell my brother he's a great son. He asked me to hold his cane.

Finally, the Verizon guy comes up to us and says, "You don't have any upgrades available yet." After I smash his face into the wall, I say, "I know, but it's in a few days, and I want the Droid and I'm moving to DC for the summer, so... DROID ME." Then he's all, "Blah blah NO." So I stomp away angrily.

Then I realize I have some actual questions, so we sign up again. We get the same guy. I do one of these:
And I go, "Aaaaaaaggggguuuuuuuhhhhhhhh."

Then I say, "Ok, I have some real questions." Then I ask him real questions, but he doesn't know anything. Then he says, "Well, let me ask my manager." He leaves for like twenty minutes, and then comes back out and realizes his manager is out here. Long story short, I LEAVE DROIDLESS. He says something about the Droids being on a two-week back-order, but that Colorado might have them in stock. I am forced to wait until I return to Colorado to attend a Verizon there to GET MY DROID.

I arrive in Colorado and am running some errands with my friend Sarah (name drop!) and we stop in a Verizon. I talk to someone and they tell me the same thing I heard two weeks ago.... That the Droids are on a two-week back-order. I tell them to "Shove it" and I leave.

I figure I will have to wait until I get to DC, to go to a Verizon there, and for them to tell me they are on a two-week back-order. But then I will hopefully know my address and I CAN GET MY DROID ALREADY.

Don't you just want to put it on vibrate and.... have sex with it???

Amongst my other errands, I got a new antenna for my car at Car Toys. I noticed they were an authorized Verizon seller persony thing, and I asked them if they have the Droid. THEY TOLD ME THEY HAD THEM IN STOCK. I told them that no one else had them, and that they were on two-week back-order and they said that "Sometimes they get phones before the actual Verizon store." I eyed him suspiciously, but was overcome with DROIDJOY that I let it slide. I asked if I could use my upgrade here and blah blah blah and they said YES. So I told them I would be back on May 25th, the day I was eligible for my upgrade, and they said they would put one on hold for me. [Also, when they fixed my antenna, they didn't properly hook my radio back up, so had to deal with that too...]

Anyway, the 25th arrives and I wake up bright and early at 1pm to GET MY DROID ON. I enter Car Toys with hesitation because I know how things in my life go. Some guy comes up to me and I tell him I have a Droid on hold in the back. He goes back to look, comes back out without one, and talks to his manager. The manager tells me, "Um, no one has the Droid. They aren't even made yet." The guy I had talked to originally (the week before) was next to the manager and said, "Oh, I hoped they would come in before you got here."


FUCKIN' SWEET. NEVER GO TO CAR TOYS. THEY ARE A BUNCH OF LYING LIARS WHO TELL LIES!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The other day I was at the bank. My bank is next to Verizon, so I decided to stop in and just ask, "WHEN WILL THE FUCKING DROIDS BE MADE MOTHERFUCKER?" The sign-in lady didn't know, but said she could put me on the list to talk to someone. She puts me on there and then says, "It'll be about 30 minutes." I leave (after I smash her face into the wall).


So that's my Droid story.



Now onto just my day today.


My landlord is a Douchey McDoucheBag, and there is some sort of sawdusty-but-not-sawdust all over the laundry room in my apartment complex. It's in the washers, in the dryers, all over. Our landlord doesn't feel like taking care of it.

I am leaving for DC in a few days, and need to do laundry. So I sucked it up, showered, got dressed, and brought all my laundry, including my sheets 'n junk, to my car, with my computer and backpack to spend a few hours watching Cops at the laundromat. (Seriously, Cops is on, the laundromat attendant loves it - she keeps going, "Oh!" and "Wow, that's a lot" when the cops find drugs.)

Anyway, some of my neighbors like playing soccer in the parking lot and use the cars as goals, so one of them was out there and I tried to hit him as I was leaving. But he flagged me down and told me I had a flat tire. I took out my shank and carved out a smiley face in his spleen. (He doesn't need it anyway). Then I parked, got out and looked at the flat tire, and cursed the Aztec Gods for my luck.

Let me also state I just bought these tires this week at Firestone. After yelling some grotesque obscenities at some passing children, I got out my phone and called AAA. My membership wasn't going to expire until June 10, but I renewed it, also last week, because of my drive to DC. Well, the lady says my account is suspended, and has been for a while. I tell her I was a customer last year as well and hadn't had a problem and she goes, "But the computer is telling me your account is suspended." She then proceeds to tell me that if I have the receipt from my renewal (which I do), I can just pay for the service and then go to AAA and get refunded or whatnot. I say fine. Then she says, "Well, actually, you need to pay $96 to reinstate your membership before I can do anything." I place a hex on her mother and hang up.

In this time, I tried calling Firestone about 3 times, because that is where I bought my tires, along with roadside damage insurance, but its 5pm on Sunday, so they weren't open or JUST NOT ANSWERING MY CALLS even though I give them like $500 a week because my car BLOWS.

Anyway, I'm overcome with the urge to smash someone's face into a wall, and so I go back inside. Mike is there and I tell him my woes, and he says he knows how to fix a flat. I tell him I'll buy him dinner, and we haggle it out to three dinners and back massage and we venture out to fix my flat. I stand there like a helpless woman as he fixes it. I then say, "Screw it" and I come to the laundromat to do my laundry anyway because there's no other time I can get it done.


Oh, and since tomorrow is Memorial Day, Firestone or AAA won't be open. HOT.

Looks like they should rename tomorrow "Smashing Faces into Walls Day."

Meet Gus Gus

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Neuroscientists have been deceiving the world for years. Many people think that inside our craniums are these things called 'brains.' And these 'brains' like to be eaten by zombies. And they are all mushy and slimy and look like some sort of ugly (yet delicious!) jello mold. But this is just some crazy conspiracy put on by the government and the neuroscientists of the world.
In reality, our craniums are hollow, and house a hamster unique to each of us (people with multiple personalities end up with more than one hamster in their skull). Anyway, these hamsters have their own unique traits and characteristics that make each of us "special." (Yes, I do mean that kind of special).


I want to introduce you to my furry brain friend, Gus Gus. He is in most ways similar to Gus Gus from Cinderella, but he is a hamster, not a mouse.


But Gus Gus is even cuter, because he's a hamster, not a mouse.

So let me tell you a little more about Gus Gus. He sleeps. All the time. It's not that he's tired... except that he is. But you also bore him to death. He tries. He will wake up early, around 3pm, and saunter (he saunters) over to his food bowl. He'll eat a little bit, take some sips of water from this hamster sippy-thing (SO CUTE!!!) and then hop up on his wheel. Now, when I say "hop up on his wheel," this is actually an hour-long ordeal. First, he saunters from his food bowl over to the wheel, then looks at the wheel, and looks back longingly at the food bowl, then at his bednest (nestbed?), then back to the wheel, etc. This continues for about 25 minutes. Sometimes, if he's having a really bad day, he ends up going back to his bednest. However, on a good day, when he is feeling triumphant, Gus Gus will spend the next 35 minutes "hopping" up onto the wheel. I wish I had a better way of describing this task to you, but I don't. But it is similar to this:


But really, Gus Gus should get an A+++++ for his valiant effort. I mean, he tries! That's more than I can say for most people's hamsters. Additionally, he's SO FUCKING CUTE. I can never stay mad at him!!!

AWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!! LOOK AT HIS CUTE LITTLE FOOT!


So most of the time, when you talk to me, Gus Gus is asleep: on his wheel, in his bednest, passed out in his food bowl... wherever. And when I stare at you blankly for minutes on end, I am also asleep.

Many of you have seen me get passionate/extremely excited about things I like... that funny part in Shrek Forever After, um, those other things... ANYWAY, Gus Gus often shares my passion/excitement. I would like to end this post with a picture illustrating my and Gus Gus's special bond over the passions of our lives.

The following picture beautifully and perfectly illustrates the zealous fervor that solidifies the bond that Gus Gus and I share (and we both look just as cute when we do it too).

More Dora the Whore... uh.

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So when I made my previous Dora post, I couldn't find all the pictures I wanted... and then I did. So... you NEED to check out these images.

Die Autobot from Deviant Art
UGOTO
Funny Junk - possibly my favorite... except she should be wearing a Chipotle shirt.

Dora, I Wanna Explore Ya

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In tune with my genetic predisposition to pedophilia, I often "research" what the kids are into these days. My time spent perusing the schoolyard led to my discovery of a one, um, Dora, as she's known. Apparently, she's an Explorer.


;)



Anyway, for all of you subject to the running-of-pedophilia-in-your-family, but who also have problems with romance and passion in the bedroom (all of you), here is a surefire way to spice things up:

Below is a transcript of one of my previous love-making sessions (Yes, I do secretly record all of them. Why do you ask?). Anyway, the following is guaranteed to have all the ladies tearing at your belt buckle with the fierce passion of pure lust. Happens to me anyway.

Me: Mmmmm, baby, mmmm....
Lady: Oh yeah, mmmm...
[Stop. Gaze lustfully into their eyes.]
Me: Dora, I wanna explore ya...
Lady: OH BECCA!!!!!!!!! THE MOST GLORIOUS RAINBOW EVER!!!! DO ME ON IT!!!!!
Me: Call me Boots...

End scene.

If that doesn't work for you, then... I'm sorry you're so ugly.

A SIDE-POST EXTRAVAGANZA FOR YOU!

As I was Googling Dora, I was thinking about what kind of sweet pictures I could use to augment my post. So after the Googling, I Googled "slut Dora." Well, APPARENTLY, I have another NON-original idea. I seem to be chock full of those lately (see Ants Built the Pyramids).

There are literally billions of articles about how gd* GOOD "grown-up Dora" looks, but Alas! and HideNSneek have the best synopses (and the best pictures, but I didn't want to post them for fear of "plagiarism" or whatever that is. I think it's just something someone unwitty came up with).

Or you could just Google "slut Dora" after you... you know.

*explanatory post in the works

Welcome To My Bed

Welcome to my bed.

It is widely known that my bed is the epitome of sleeping on a cloud made of down plucked from the wings of griffins and blessed with angel tears. At any one time, there are typically two down comforters, two pillows, one Blanshee (a microfiber/something else mix from Bed, Bath and Beyond), and four Bubbies (baby blankets the swaddle the babes of gods).

You might be saying, "Yeah, whatever. My bed is comfortable too, get over it." But you wouldn't even be half-right. You'd be full-wrong. Just note these testimonies from famous people*:

"She is my Monica." - Hillary Clinton
"I can see her bed from my house." - Sarah Palin
"I tried to buy her bed because it would be perfect for my mansion, but she wouldn't let me... great lay though." - Hugh Hefner
"The next apple product is going to be an interactive vibrator named the iBecca." - Steve Jobs
"That bed is more orgasmic than the Island." - Jacob
"Portia who?" - Ellen DeGeneres
"There is a center of the universe, and it is this bed." - Albert Einstein
"The happenings in that bed were the basis for my TV series." - Ilene Chaiken
"The happenings in that bed were the basis for my TV series." - Chris Carter

And so many more.

Additionally, in congruence with old Al's and Jacob's comments, my bed has magical and mysterious powers. There seems to be some sort of mystical force, unbeknownst to the laws of physics, that draws people to it. The pull is greatest when you are right next to the bed, in the vicinity of 20 feet, and increases with decreasing distance to the bed. However, the force is also strong at very great distances from the bed, say, at distances of thousands of miles or more. The force is weakest at intermediate distances, between 20 feet and 1,000 miles. However, the pull is also felt strongly when lying in sub-par beds (meaning, all other beds). As such, this force is wicky-wacky.

When within 20 feet of the bed, the force can get so great at times that one is simply and utterly unable to resist its pull, drawing one to the bed. As experiment has also indicated, the force seems exceptionally strong for others when I, myself, am already lying in the bed.

I have drawn some graphs to further illustrate Its Excellency, as the bed prefers to be referred to as.The results shown in the above graph have been verified numerous times since the purchase of the bed in 2006. Also, this topic is to be the focus of my senior thesis. I would really like more data for the above graph... please inquire within.


If there are more data about the bed you would like to see in graph form, please let me know.


*complete fabrication

Ants Built the Pyramids

'ello.




Please note: I wrote this at 2:30am this morning, without glasses on. Enjoy!

My roommate recently created his own ant farm. When he was first like, “DID YOU SEE MY ANT FARM!???!?!?!!” I smiled and nodded and patted him on the head with my left hand, while my right was calling the mental hospital I have on speed dial on my phone (let’s just say they know me there). Anyway, I knew Mike had a bit of that “engineer crazy” that his kind tend to have, so I brushed it off. Also, the ants looked sort of dead and there weren’t any tunnels yet, so I have to say I wasn’t impressed.

A few days later, Mike, bursting with antcitement (see what I did there?), asked if I looked at the ant farm recently. I hadn’t… because to me, the ants still looked dead and the farm still looked like a window pane half-filled with dirt. By now the farm had moved to the shelf above one of our couches (we have four), and so Mike and I climbed on up to get a look at the ants.

I do have to say I was much more impressed, and some of Mike’s antcitement may have permeated the top layer of my epidermis (← nerd). Anyway, the ants had built many a tunnel, and there were even these other kind of smaller ants with smaller tunnels… NEATO GANG!

Mike continued to point things out, like the small ant queen and the big ant queen, as I contemplated smashing the farm to bits over a homeless man’s head while the ants scurry with the dreadful fear of the coming apocalypse. As I drifted in and out to the engineer-crazy-screeching with which Mike spoke, he pointed out the hills the ants had made on top of the soil, and how you could tell the ants made them because you could see the line where the top of the original soil had lain. Additionally, he pointed out one hill that had such a steep and perfect slope on one side that it looked like a pyramid. Mike and I then hypothesized that the pyramids in Egypt were constructed my ants, and that it made perfectly logical sense. Ants can lift objects hundreds of times their body weight, so if you get thousands of ants, ipso facto pyramids (note: I don’t know what ipso facto means).

Because people quickly lose interest unless you flash something shiny at them, especially when reading my long-winded posts, I google-image searched “ants pyramids” and lo and behold, ALL MY AWARD-WINNING, FANTASMAGORICAL (I wish this word meant what I actually wanted it to), ORGASMIC, ORIGINAL IDEAS ARE NOT ORIGINAL.

First, see this cartoon I found:


Second, see this book that has been writed:





COMPLETE CRAP. My and Mike’s ORIGINAL idea that the ants built the pyramids is true and original. What must have happened is this cartoonist and this author KNOW that I am pure genius and so have had me bugged since I was born with some sort of microchip under my skin. Additionally, because they knew my genius would discover such utter stealing of ideas, they built a time machine with which they would hear my ideas and then go back to sometime in the past and enact them, so that viewers would think the idea was originally theirs. In live, the simplest solution is most often the correct one, and so, ipso facto (again, what does this mean?), I have been microchipped so that jerkfaces can steal my ideas and time travel to “prove” the idea was theirs originally.

Your Baby Ate Whaaaaat?!!?!?!

I CANNOT FIGURE OUT THE FONT FORMATTING SO DEAL WITH IT. Love you.


A few weeks ago I was sitting at my friend’s house “studying.” And by “studying,” I mean, “flipping through the online TV guide to see what was on.” I was flipping through the channels and I saw the title, “Your Baby Ate Whaaaaaat?” (Note: Number of “a”s unknown, as well as presence of the “t” or not… but I think the “t” was there, and there were five or six “a”s.) Anyway, I HAD to see what this was. So I flipped to that channel (TLC). And it is exactly what the title implies: it is a TV show that, in an Unsolved Mysteries-like fashion, dramatizes scenarios in which babies or kids (see below) put something non-edible in their mouths. The show then goes through the steps and hospital visits, interviewing doctors and family members, to see what becomes of said object (referring to the baby, not the thing they swallowed). Now, it is true that babies/kids will put whatever they can/want in their mouth (I still do) and so this particular episode wasn’t all that intriguing. One baby ate a battery, and another kid swallowed a charm from her necklace. And since I wasn’t captivated by this episode, I thought of some easy ways that TLC could better promote this show, along with appealing more to a TBS-ish audience.

So with the title, “Your Baby Ate Whaaaaaaaat?,” what comes to mind? If you answered “a big black woman,” you’d be correct. Now, I didn’t see the introduction to the show, but I picture a baby putting something in their mouth, and a MoNique-type person pops up on the screen and goes, “Your baby ate whaaaaaat?!” in a sort of high-pitched squeal. In addition, when the show reproduces the scenario of the child eating the object, Mo’nique would pop up in one of the bottom corners to provide a running commentary:

“Oh! That baby so cute! Look at that little onesie! Oh! Oh no baby! Oh no! Baby what you got in your hand? No, baby! No baby! No baby, don’t put that in your mouth! No baby, don’t eat that! Baby! OH NO HE DI’N’T!!!!”

Followed by the show’s title: “Your baby ate whaaaaaaat!!!!???” End scene.

It might look something like this:

I’d like to clear the air and affirm that I’m not racist.

Gramtown Quotes from the Weekend of May 7 - May 11, 2010

Enjoy! And don’t talk to me about “context.” I don’t believe in it.

Me: “It was snowing in Colorado yesterday.”
Gram: “Colorado’s a dumb place.”

Gram (to Nick): “You should read that book The Hot Zone.”
[Pause]
Gram: “It sounds sexy!”

Gram: “I was a Hooker.”
(Ask for details).

Gram: “I used to be tough.”

Me: “I play by myself.”
Gram: “Do you?”

Nick (to Gram): “Get off my nuts.”
Gram: “I don’t want to get on them.”

Me: “No one’s sitting at the table.”
Gram: “I am.”
Me: “Well, you’re a freak.”
Gram: “I know it.”

Mom (to me): “You didn’t see the porn videos Gram and Grandpa used to make.”
Gram: “Speaking of those, your dad gave us these videos in Texas…”

Gram (to her neighbor): “My son’s wife has this mp-something and she can read books through her ears.”


So this isn’t a Gramtown quote, but it occurred this weekend and it’s too hilarious to not include. Plus, she was present, so it’s practically a Gramtown quote. Background: long story short, my brother got an F in one of his classes this semester.

Nick (listing his grades): “…an F in Geometry.”
Me: “Shapes? An F in Shapes? Oh, were there colors too?”
[My Mom and I high-five.]

The Cryptkeeper

As many of you know, I was visiting family in NY this weekend, among them my Gram and my brother, Nick. The first couple days ended up being uneventful in terms of those priceless gems known as videos and quotes. But the last couple days… PURE BLOG GOLD. For example, as everyone knows, old people don’t have teeth. They get expensive fake teeth plucked from the mouths of babes that could have paid off ¼ of my student loans. As such, when they go to bed, they take out these hindrances, if only to scare the heck out of their grandchildren. As it happened, my brother and I were watching It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia, when my grandma comes into the room, after having gotten ready for bed. She says something to my brother in her toothless glory and Nick yells, “AHHHHHH!!! THE CRYPTKEEPER!!!” I died laughing.

Now, because you weren’t there, you might not currently be crippled with both bloodcurdling terror and sheer, unadulterated laughter. Thus, I have commissioned my brother to provide you with the terrifying rendition that is The Cryptkeeper:

I do have one more hilarious/terrifying anecdote. Nick and my Gram were in the room I was staying in and I was in the kitchen, but I could hear them. Gram was scratching Nick’s back, as it is one of her top five duties. On the floor in that room was a book I brought with me from CO in case I decided to learn how to read. The book was “The Hot Zone” by Richard Preston about viruses or something (I haven’t read it). The story goes like this:

Gram (to Nick): You should read that book The Hot Zone.

[Pause]

Gram: It sounds sexy!

Nick turns to look at her and this is what he gets:

I’m sorry if you can’t sleep tonight out of utter fear. I wish I could present you with the real deal, but after hearing about her Robot fame, Gram has decided to retire from the limelight that is my blog, at least in video form…. for now.

D LAY

Hi.


Just wanted to drop all my highly devout friends and fans a note saying I am currently in NY and dying of non-sleep-from-finals-sucking-ass-sickness and that I apologize for the lack of posts. HOWEVER, I am currently with the world-renowned "Gramtown Robot" herself, and even have a sweet quote from her that will be featured in an upcoming blog. I also plan on getting more of that classic robot action. So don't you fret! There are many posts to come in May, I've got some GREAT ideas that are sure to make you pee out your peehole with laughter (please note: Becca takes no responsibility for peeing out not your peehole).


Anyway, I just watched Betty White on SNL and encourage you ALL TO WATCH. Not only is it frickity-frack-frack-frack hilarious, but it is also frickin'-frackin' hilarious. ENJOY!


Stay tuned, my loves!

Things I Like AND YOU SHOULD TOO

The title pretty much says all you need to know. I will probably forget some awesome amazing things in this list, and also discover more in time, so there will be more of these to come.

Sweet Websites

People of Walmart
- anyone want to go on a roadtrip of the US simply stopping at various Walmarts in order to view the creatures firsthand? 
FML
- my life is a seemingly endless series of FMLs. I haven't submitted any (yet!) though because all my stories require elaborate back-stories to fully appreciate.
FailBlog
New Worlds 
- semi-blatant-self-promotion
Cracked
Texts from Last Night

Hilarious Webcomics

XKCD
Cyanide and Happiness
Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal
Questionable Content
Surviving the World

Awesome Comedians
Liam Sullivan

Sweet Blogs (aside from mine, of course)
Hyperbole and a Half
BlagHag

TV Shows

LOST
Law and Order
Flashforward
Criminal Minds
Family Guy
The Simpsons
19 and Counting (18 and Counting, 17 and Counting)
Strangers with Candy (extinct)
MST3K (extinct)

Movies

Jurassic Park
Repo! The Genetic Opera
RiffTrax

Musicals

Spring Awakening

Restaurants

Outback Steakhouse
Scotch 'N Sirloin

Heaven

Wegmans

Type of Apple

Empire

Color

Iridescent



I feel like there's OODLES of things I'm missing. DEAL WITH IT.

I welcome suggestions or additions to the list as well! But only if they are FUNNY.

The First of Many

Following the long-standing tradition, my grandma was named after me. Yes, that's correct. SHE was named after ME. Now that you've just wasted five seconds of my life that I will never get back, having to explain that to you, let me continue.

"Gram" (aka G-town, Gram-Gram, Gramsie, Gizzle, etc.) is some magical, god-like, awesome sort of super-creature that stalks the Earth, spreading her wisdom through phrases like "crotchety" and "he means well."

In this segment, I'd like to introduce you to Gram through her mastery of "The Robot."

One of my cousins got married two Septembers ago, and my mom, brother and Gram flew out here from NY. Well, as was his duty, my brosef took it upon himself to teach Gram the Robot in preparation for the wedding, and to practice at every opportune moment (in the airport, on the plane, etc.). For example, Gram's mastery of skill was tested whenever Nick would say "ROBOT!" As is evident from this picture:


Apparently, her infinite wisdom requires most of her brainspace, so Gram only did one dance at the wedding - the Robot. ONLY THE ROBOT. Here's a picture:






Notice the look of complete concentration on her face. It's the only true way the Robot can be done.

Also seen is the unadulterated reverence that the rest of the wedding-goers had for "The Robot Queen."








But it only gets better. This past Christmas, when I visited NY, Gram was DANCEHAPPY. But who isn't these days? What with their Lady Googoos and their Jonas Sisters. As such, it was necessary to document the occasion:



Sorry for the weird sideways/upsidedownness. My camera switches views when I flip it and I was simply thunderstruck at the pure prowess and sheer determination with which the Robot was being manifested.

Again, the dancehappiness arose during Christmas Eve dinner:



Don't fail to notice Gram's own "remix" of The Robot where she bots it up in slow motion.


Alas, have no fear my fine furry friends! There surely will be more of the Gram to follow! Stay tuned!

Pedophilia Runs in My Family

Many of you have heard about or were present during this story, but it needs to be told online-ically so that IT LIVES ON FOREVER (ever) (ever) (ever) (ever)...

It so happened to be Easter Sunday and T, D and I were hanging tight with Jeezy Creezy at our local Barnes and Noble. T and I were "studying for quantum" (= looking longingly out the window at the beautiful, sunny freedom just outside our grasp) while D was fartin' around on the internet and JC was reading a steamy romance novel from the Erotica section we were sitting next to. He started reading a particularly visual scene out loud to us, but T AND D MADE ME STOP because we were "in public". Did I say me? Because that's what I meant.

Anyway, as I said, T and I were "studying" when I quickly glanced up and thought I saw a man reading a 'Pedophilia for Dummies' book, but in actuality, it was a 'Pre-diabetes for Dummies' book (you can see where my mind was/is). The rest of the convo went like this:

Me: Haha, oh JC! I swore that man was reading a 'Pedophilia for Dummies' book! But it's actually pre-diabetes.

T and D look over at the guy.

Me: Actually, I should get that since both my mom and grandpa had/have it.

T: PEDOPHILIA?!?!?!?!?!?!!?!?!!?!????!?!?!?!

Cue insane, tearing laughter that lasted for *AT LEAST* 15 minutes. Then JC and I high-fived.





We may or may not have been naked (He (I?) did read from that book...).

Also, as is obvious from the picture, we did simultaneously high five and low five.








But there's more!

Later that week, actually, I think it was the next day, T and I went back to B&N to "study" some more. On my way back from the bathroom, I passed a "for Dummies" book table. I did a quick glance (for pedophilia) and didn't find it. BUT, sitting right next to each other were 'Dating for Dummies' and 'Writing Children's Stories for Dummies.' If the conjunction of those two books doesn't equal 'Pedophilia for Dummies,' I don't know what does.

And so:

And that's what I call improvisation!

'Where's the evidence pedophilia runs in your family?!?!?' you might ask. Well sir! I have it right here from you. Here is a relatively recent picture of my brother:
Holy pedophile, Batman! But still not convinced? One more piece of solid, unwavering evidence. Note this artist's rendition of my mom:

There you have it, folks. Pure, solid gold, irrefutable evidence. My mom actually decided to join Facebook after the pedophilia B&N incident, and in one of the wisest decisions of her life, gave my brother the password to her account, who gave it to me. We "freshened up" Mom's account and I even had this artist's rendition of her specially made to dedicate the monumental event. She then asked, "what does 'where my ho's at?' mean?"

'Roid Rage

As you will all soon learn, some of my best thinking is done right before my naps. Well, today, as I was laying in my bed, I was thinking about 'roid rage' (why? who the hell knows). Anyway, I was lying there and I was like, "Why is roid rage associated with steroids? It makes SO much more sense if it was associated with hemorrhoids. I mean, if I had hemorrhoids, I'm sure I'd be in some sort of rage.

Since I am dedicated to my loyal fans, I decided to provide some illustrations for your viewing pleasure.As you can see, this dinosaur has a bad case of the 'roids and he's definitely ragin'.

It's a well-known scientific fact that one of the side effects of hemorrhoids is the ability to shoot purple flames out of your mouth. Unfortunately, a passing caveman was subject to the dinosaur's intense 'roid rage. Now, doesn't this make SO much more sense instead of rage associated with steroids? It does.