“What The Hell?”

This morning, my aunt was on her way out early to go to the gym. She couldn’t resist telling this story when she got there…

As she was getting in her car, she noticed one little boy, about 7 or so, standing all by himself at the bus stop on the corner. She was a little confused because there’s usually a whole bunch of them waiting there.

At the same time my aunt saw the kid, so did her neighbor who went over to him. She asked him what he was doing and he told her that he was waiting for the bus. She felt bad and had the following exchange with him:

Neighbor: You know you don’t have school today…right? It’s Rosh Hashanah…the Jewish New Year.

Kid: (Keep in mind he’s only about 7.) What the hell? I was sick yesterday and didn’t know we were off today.

The neighbor laughed and told him he should head home. So off he went…with yet another day off from school.

I had to post this…it’s been cracking me up all day. My mother, being mildly obsessed with school having been a teacher for 33 years, was less than amused. She’s all worried that the kids parents might have been gone when he went back home…and why was he at the bus stop by himself anyway…and how did his mother not know the school schedule? Just get over it…I think it’s cute. What 7 year old says “What the hell?”

He reminds me of me!

You and Your GPS Suck

I’m on my way to work the other day and as usual it was pleasant(you should be reading this and hearing a VERY sarcastic tone.) It’s never fun, trucking back and forth, up and down the turnpike and parkway…surrounded by idiots.

My favorite idiot this week had to be the guy from Maryland in the Dodge Avenger. He tied up people all along the Newark-Bay Extension, also known as the never ending exit 14 on the turnpike that leads you to the Holland Tunnel. There was a fair amount of traffic on the day in question, so it was hard to maneuver…and of course I wind up behind this asshole. Who spends most of his time hitting his breaks because he’s not paying attention to where he’s driving…he’s too busy watching his fucking GPS.

What is wrong with people? Seriously? How the fuck does anybody manage to get anywhere anymore. I understand he’s from Maryland and not familiar with Jersey roads. But, I’ve been to Maryland…AND I DIDN’T NEED A FUCKING COMPUTER TELLING ME WHERE TO TURN. I just don’t get it. He couldn’t just Google the damn directions before he left? Oh…I’m sure he didn’t want to have to keep looking down and reading them off the paper because that would be hazardous. As if him staring at the computer all the way across his windshield wasn’t. I know those stupid things talk…they even come with fancy accents you can switch to. Australian, southern…French fucking whore…why stare at it? You’re screwing everybody else’s day up.

And as far as GPS is concerned…I know they’re not 100% accurate. I’ve been in the car with one that gave me the wrong directions. So there. And from what I hear from my friend Kit, they will drive you off a cliff if you’re not paying attention. So there you go asshole, you keep staring at the stupid thing and it will drive you straight into the Hudson River. Whatever…you’ll be out of my way then.

Corporate Email

As you all know, I work in news at a major television network. You probably have also come to realize that I HATE my job with a level of passion that is probably unhealthy. It reached an all new high last week when the corporate assholes sent out the following email. Some of it has been edited so that you can’t tell what network it is(for example: -B- is the network name, but all three of the major ones have a B in the middle...I'm so tricky!) I know, I know, most of you are already aware of where I work. But, I’m allegedly not allowed to voice my opinions as a representative of said company, so when I post stuff on the internet I’ve got to cover it up. And as much as I’d like to tell them to go fuck off, I do need money and therefore, need this job until I can find a suitable replacement.

Sent: Thursday, September 18, 2008 7:27 PM
Subject: -B- Premiere Week is Here!

-B- has declared Premiere Week to be National Stay at Home Week! So starting on Sunday, if you're not supposed to be working, stay home every night, save gas, and watch your favorite shows on –B-!

The new fall season starts this Sunday at 8pm with (I took the rest of this paragraph out because it was mostly lots of bullshit and a rundown of the weeks shows, which would give away the networks identity.)

This is just the start of the excitement. See below for the full list of premieres coming your way over the next few weeks. For more information or to catch up on your favorite shows before they premiere, go to www.we-are-a-bunch-of-narcissistic-freaks.com (I also changed their website!)

Are they serious with this shit? They sent this to all of their employees. Now I’m boycotting their shows on principle.

Stupid Boys

I was having a bad day last week…nothing that bad, just work crap and some other stupid shit going on had me a little pissy. Or should I say pissier(According to my spell check, pissier is not a word. Fuck them.)than usual.

So I’m sitting at one of the bar tables at The Ark and I don’t really have a whole lot to say. K asks me what’s wrong so I told him I was in a bad mood. This is what he had to say…

K: Do you have your period?

B: No

I love it when boys seem to think that just because a girl is in a bad mood that we automatically must have our period. I’m speaking from experience when I say that ALL girls are genetically CRAZY. And we have bouts of bitchiness/craziness and bad moods all four weeks of the month. These moods are just enhanced during our “special week.” Don’t get me wrong…I wasn’t mad at him for asking me that. In fact, I was amused. But that wasn’t even the icing on the cake…

K: Do lesbians even get their period? (And then he starts giggling like a 15 year old boy.)

B: (shooting him my signature “you’re an asshole” look) Of course we do. Just because I like girls doesn’t make me not be a girl anymore. Idiot.

K: (still giggling) Ya never know!

At this point I shook my head and got up from the table. As I walked by him on my way to the bar to get another drink I slapped him upside his head. He continues to giggle…such an ass sometimes. But now I was laughing too...so much for that bad mood!

Helloooo Stutter

So I’m at The Ark the other night, a nice quiet weekday night. There’s not a whole lot going on as X and D are on their way out the back door to smoke a cigarette. I told them I’d meet them out there after I went to the bathroom.

In the girls room I go and I’m just about done and I hear the door open. And somebody with noisy high heels had entered. I didn’t really think anything of it. That was, until I opened up the stall door and saw a SUPER-HOT model looking girl standing there. Trendy hair, trendy clothes. The whole nine yards. She smiled at me and I instantly kicked into retard mode…

Model: Hi

B: Uh..uh...uh...yeah..uh..uh..hey.

She just laughed and went into the stall. I exited the bathroom embarrassed at how uncool I am sometimes with girls. I don’t understand what happens to me. My normally charming, irresistible persona transforms into this blubbering idiot. Fuck. I’m cute, but I’m not that hot and I need my charm and wit at or very near 100% with the girls. It’s crucial.

I headed over to the bar to ask K who she was. He had no idea, but had also noticed just how hot she was. And then made some dirty comment about her and I in the bathroom. If he only knew what really went on. K said she came in the back door, so this is perfect. I was headed out there to smoke a cigarette with D and X anyway. Out I go and ask them if they saw the girl. X didn’t think she was that cute and she was too skinny for him. D said she didn’t think she was that cute either…but I’m thinking she might have been a little jealous. Sorry D!

Anyway, out comes hot girl. She opens the back door and walks out to a very awkward silence. She sashays over to the car that was waiting for her, turning The Ark parking lot into a catwalk (which is no easy feat). She knew she was getting checked out and just as she was about to get in the car she turned back to us, smiled and said,

M: Thanks for the silence.

All I managed to do was wave. D and X were cracking up.

The Muffin Man

I had heard R talk about the so-called “Muffin Man” quite a few times. R, having been on the overnight shift for a while got to know the MM pretty well, considering MM had been banished to the overnight shift years ago. And I’m guessing the banishment was due to his social ineptness and thievery. Yeah…he likes to steal stuff. Nothing important like your wallet…usually just food, coffee, office supplies…things like that.

My first meeting with the MM didn’t go so good. Mostly because I didn’t know who he was until after the fact and I didn’t realize I was supposed to look busy and not make eye contact. Thanks everybody…for the warning.

He comes walking into my office and instantly eyes me up. Not knowing who he is, I just stare right back at him and stand my ground. This is when I should have noticed that my boss and one of my other coworkers were huddled in the corner of the room pretending to work…when in fact, they were really just laughing at me. So MM, after a few seconds, finally says:

MM: You must be on the softball team here.

B: (Is this some sort of lesbo call out? So I get my ghetto head shake on and say) What are you trying to say?

MM: (As he is rifling through our medicine cabinet to steal shit)You look like you’d be a good softball player. I think you should be on the company team.

B: (completely confused by the entire situation) I didn’t even know they had one.

Now MM gets into a full blown conversation about the art of being a good softball team and the privilege of playing for the company. Like I give a flying shit about doing anything extracurricular for this company. Even if there is a chance I might meet other “softball players” there.

He has now walked away from the front of my desk and after he has stolen enough of our band aids and generic Aspirin. He walks around to the side now and he is STILL babbling nonsense to me. He makes absolutely no sense and you actually start to think you might be crazy or drugged or something because you can’t understand him. I’m so freaked out by him at this point that I send an email to my coworkers for a little help getting him away from me. F*ckers…more giggling from the other side of the room.

MM finally stops talking because he’s now rooting through all our stuff on the table next to our desks where the coffee pot is. I assume he’s looking for food. There was none there so he waves to me and makes his way out of the office. Now my coworkers are cracking up. I thank them oh so graciously for all the help getting him away from me. And then they ask me what he stole. I told them I didn’t think he stole anything. My boss points to the table with the coffee pot and asks me what’s missing.

That prick stole our antibacterial hand sanitizer. What the F is wrong with him?

Now I know you’re all going to ask why he’s called the Muffin Man. Well…I have no idea. I’ll have to check with R. Or perhaps he’ll comment with the explanation…

Remember

I’m sure he’s watching over you from Heaven.

I had the opportunity to work on the televised memorial for 9/11 in 2004 and it was the saddest experience of my life. The above statement is for a little boy I saw there. He was walking into the ceremony with his mom, clutching a flag and wearing his dad’s fireman’s hat. The image of him entering and being patted on the head by all the police will be burned in my mind forever.

My blogs are usually lighthearted and entertaining. Sometimes even a little crazy. But today I ask you to take a moment and say a prayer for that little boy…and for all of the victims and their families. Also, if you could take another moment and say a prayer for the men and women in the military who are serving our country.

Conspiracy theories and political and religious views aside, they all deserve it.

Thank you.

Outblasted

I was going to post a blog today involving road rage and Crazy Nanny because I don’t have a crystal ball and didn’t know I would have any driving altercations today. But, alas, I did. It wasn’t so much an altercation as it was me being completely annoyed by a little man and his rap music…

So anyway, I had just come out of the Lincoln Tunnel and pulled up to 42nd Street. I was at the red light at the corner of 10th Avenue, trying to make the right to head up to the Hell like office that I call work. I was relaxed, smoking a cigarette and listening to my music. I’m cringing as I’m about to write this, but yes, it was country. In fact it was Brad Paisley. I heart him. It was “Waitin’ on a Woman.” It’s no “Mud on the Tires” but it’ll do.

All is well until this diminutive little man pulls up next to me in his little car. And he is blasting the shit out of his TERRIBLE rap music. Honestly, the song was shit. The worst part about this was that I could no longer hear my music. So I turn it up a little bit, but I still can’t hear it that good due to Rap Master Dickhead.

Now I’m pissed. I wanna hear this song and I wanna hear it now. Uninterrupted. I’ve reached the last straw. Game on little man, game on. And I proceed to turn my radio up. Way up. And I outplayed his ass. So there. If any of you guys reading this happened to be in the vicinity of 42nd Street and 10th Avenue around 3pm today…and heard the dueling radios…it was me. And I won.

The lesson to be learned here, little man, is:

1. Nobody thinks your cool because you play your music that obscenely loud.
2. Nobody wanted to hear that TERRIBLE song you were playing.

And most importantly…

3. When you mess with me, and apparently Brad Paisley, you will lose.

Stop F*cking Beeping

To the guy who was beeping at me incessantly on 69th street…

You are an asshole. I saw the green light. And I also saw the two people who were walking in front of my car. They seemed nice so I decided I wouldn’t run them over today. By the way, the light had only been green for a millisecond, there was no need to frantically beep like that…

In fact, you were one more honk away from getting one of my golf clubs through the windshield of your ugly ass blue Ford Taurus. I swear…I was gonna go all Jack Nicholson on you. My golf bag is in the back of my truck.

Also, to the guy who parks his motorcycle lengthwise on 70th street and takes up an entire spot…you are also an asshole. It’s crap that you do this and I know other people who are annoyed by you too.

And that’s all I have to say about that.

Baby Got Back

Here’s another little anecdote from our time at The Mouse’s Ear. You had to know the strip club was good for at least two stories!

Anyway…we had just settled in at our table, just before the trashy girl came over and X bought a table dance from her. I happened to look across the room to see at one of the dancers that was up on one of the single stages. And I noticed a bit of a resemblance. She kind of looked like me. Now, I know what you’re thinking. Aww…B, you have a cute face but shit…who’s gonna pay you to take off your clothes. And I’m sure you think that the stripper was a skinny version of me…but she wasn’t. She was the same size. I know…I was just as shocked as you are.

As soon as I saw her and was able to absorb the fact that somebody with the same build as me (I guess you could call me chubby, considering my ex-girlfriend was, what she liked to call, a “chubby chaser.”) I leaned over to K to point the girl out. K was surprised too. Then we talked about how we felt bad for her, because nobody seemed to be overly generous when it came to tipping her. We decided that when she came by our table we would buy a dance from her, because as a chubby girl, I have to help other chubby girls out. When she was done with her stage dance, she started going from table to table on the other side of the room. And again, nobody bought a dance from her…she got maybe a dollar, here and there. Nothing substantial. I kept wondering why this poor girl works here. Seriously, at what point do you not just quit and go get a job at Sonic?

Well, of course we managed to get sidetracked with the rafter humping dance and chubby girl had went past our table and we missed her. Trust me, if you saw the table dance we were getting, you would have missed her too. Once things had settled down from that dance and Amethyst put her clothes back on, I turned to see where chubby had danced off to…and that’s when I spotted her…giving a dance to a bunch of people.

And that’s when I realized why it is that Chubby continues to strip. Now I don’t want anybody saying I’m a bigot and a racist and all that crap, but it is fairly common for black men to enjoy girls with a little meat on their bones. I speak from experience here, because if I got hit on by as many girls as I did black guys, I’d be the happiest lesbian around. That being said, I think it’s a safe bet that Chubby, my stripper twin, must also get hit on by a lot of black men. And she probably makes some decent cash from the black guys that frequent The Mouse’s ear. Actually, you can bet your ass she does.

So there’s Chubby, in all her glory, shaking it like a champ for this table…that just so happened to be mostly black guys. The only other people at the table were the guys girlfriends, who happened to be white and, of course, a little thick. And when Chubby finished that dance, they gave her more money and she started dancing again. And then they had her sit down with them and they gave her more money. I turned around a little later and she was dancing for them again. These guys were throwing money at her hand over fist. I’m willing to bet she made more money than Amethyst. And Amethyst can hump rafters. I swear...if this was in a movie, you would definitely hear, "I like big butts and I can not lie."

So I stopped feeling so bad for Chubby after that. In fact, I didn’t see her for the rest of the night because she was a little tied up in the back of the club. Not tied up literally, like with ropes or anything. It was just that the table of black guys was so enamored with her she didn’t have to go selling herself anywhere else like the rest of the girls.

The whole experience got me thinking…I do really HATE my job and I’m really into country music lately…perhaps I could move to Tennessee and become a stripper?

Abso-fucking-lutely NOT.

Is that a…

X is big into caves. I know, how exciting. To be honest, he likes all things that are dark and creepy so this shouldn’t come as any big surprise. So when he found out there were caverns under the Smoky Mountains, he was all about it. And since I still feel bad about never going to the underwater caves with him when we were in Puerto Rico, I insisted on going with him this time. And everyone else came too.

Off we go on our hour long excursion to the Forbidden Caverns. We finally get there and A and G head inside to check out pricing and get the low down on the tour. Me and X are waiting in the parking lot for K, who had knee surgery and takes a little bit longer to walk everywhere then the rest of us. And as K is heading across the parking lot to us she says,

K: Hey X

X: Yes K

K: Is it gonna be dark in there?

I’m about ready to unleash on her with a million and one nasty comments on what a stupid fucking question that is when X puts his hand up in a rare parental like moment.

X: Yes K, it’s a cave.



At this point I can’t even deal with it and walk away and meet up with A and G…our pseudo parents on the trip. X and K eventually catch up to us and off we go on our cavern tour. And within the first thirty seconds, I realize that flip flops were not the best idea for hiking through a damp and dark cave with rough terrain.

And after another thirty seconds, I’m aware that strange creatures hide in dark, damp places. Creatures such as snakes, spiders and bats. I’m ok with bats. I figure I’ll just duck if I see one coming and the problem will be averted. It’s the snakes and spiders that are an issue for me. I am petrified of both of them. One of these days I’ll post about the tarantula in our house in Puerto Rico. Horrible. But that’s another story.

Apparently somebody read my mind about the creatures, because another lady in the tour asks the guide about it. And she says there are bats, but you don’t see that much of them. And there are spiders, but it’s an even rarer occasion when you see them. Ok…that’s fine. But this occasion of me being in the cave better be one of those rare ones where they stay in hiding.

So we continue on our tour, hearing about moonshiners from prohibition and even seeing some of their old equipment that was left down there after the government raided them. We learned all about stalactites and stalagmites. Stalactites are the ones that grow down and stalagmites are the ones that grow up. I’m sure you’ll sleep good tonight now that you know that. And we continue through the tour to the largest Onyx wall in America. Maybe even the world, I can’t really remember. It was actually pretty cool though. And the guide asked us very nicely if we would take our pictures of the wall and move out of the tiny space when we were done so everyone could see it. Which of course we did…and formed a single file line in the narrow corridor we were about to venture down next.



X just happened to be first in line in this corridor. And K was behind him with me behind her. A was directly behind me and G was bringing up the rear of this misfit train. We were all waiting patiently while the other group members snapped pictures of the wall, when I thought I saw something flutter out of the corner of my eye. I didn’t think anything of it until I hear X say, “Is that a…”

All I’m thinking at this point is “a what?” And that’s when I turn and see it. A bat…flying right at his face. Well, as I turned to look, so did everyone else. And K starts yelling and ducks down behind X, grabbing a hold of my leg. And behind me I’ve got A shrieking her head off and ducking down grabbing my other leg. So now I can’t move and there’s a fucking bat just a couple of feet away from my head. My only choice is to throw my arms up over my head and hope to God that this bitch doesn’t get stuck in my hair or something. Because you know I’m 85% disaster and it wouldn’t be a big surprise. The bat swooped down and went to the right of X’s face and started heading up when it was parallel to me.

Thankfully X, G and I made it through the bat attack unscathed. And of course A and K made it through just fine…they were using the rest of us to block for them. Bitches. They’re going down next time.

Below, a stalagmite...

Gretchen Who?

My fondness for country music is starting to scare me. I was just sitting in my office and somebody asked what the name of the Gretchen Wilson song is…about country girls or something like that. No one has any idea what the name of the song is…and I shouldn’t either.

But, I shout from the very back corner of my office(I love sitting here…I turn my monitors so no one can see me…and then I write blogs or play on myspace.)

“Red Neck Woman.”

Damn you Tennessee. Damn you. I didn't know that three weeks ago.