Showing posts with label Humor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Humor. Show all posts
Friday, January 21, 2011
Snow Day=Scary!
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Some Futures I Thought I Might Have
I came across an article, it's at thehairpin.com, that I thought was both very clever and entertaining, and super duper funny, so I decided to do my own version.
It can be found here: http://thehairpin.com/2010/12/some-futures-i-thought-i-might-have/
Reading it first might make this, make more sense,
Y'all, write your own too if you want! My friend Gracie already did, but I don't think I can link to it. I'm trying to make it the newest pass along over on Facebook. I feel like I'm coming out of the closet here.
Some futures I thought I might have
This is more memoir, than autobiography, if you know what I mean...
Age 3: I am secretly very special. Someday my powers will be known as I conquer the universe and save the world. I am basically a secret superhero.
Age 7: Ah, I guess it would be nice to do what it seems my mother did. Become very old (like 12), then conquer the teenage years with grace and confidence, then grow up, get a four year degree at a church school, then get married and BREED BREED BREED!!!!!!!!!!
And also be a vet with horse.
Age 9: I will write a book that encompasses my whole soul. It will be epic, read by all, and never forgotten.
Age 12: I will become a journalist or photographer or zoologist or definitely an actress, you know, something cool.
I will also do whatever the heck I want to, including buying that gorgeous mountain *wink to Anna* I saw at Grand Tetons National Park that looked like it had a naturally forming ice skating rink and build a castle there and live there with my husband will still maintaining the ability to order Pizza Hut.
Age 14: I will marry Johnny Depp or possibly a sexy 20 years older professor. Maybe both (not at the same time.) We will never argue about electricity bills or potatoes. He will be exactly like me only much better and obviously brilliant. He will wear jackets with elbow patches and grade papers at his oak desk in our library in our house near a bay window overlooking the snow covered woods in upstate new york. We will rear wholesome intellectuals.
Age 15: All men will be driven underground and harvested for sperm. I will rule.
Age 17: This will all go away and I will become Idina Menzel.
Age 18: My liberal arts education will infuse me with all knowledge of art, history, and everything worth knowing. I will be a stunning investigative journalist and also David Sedaris and a columnist for the New York Times. Gay men that I like will fall in love with me. Everything worth doing will be done and the world will be seen and traveled. I will move to the city and be amazing and also brilliant. No... No... I will become an amazing psychologist with 15 hundred grad degrees and a few books to my name. My theories will change the world. There will be no more suffering from abuse or mental illness and things I hate because of me. I will become proficient in the violin and at least two other instruments. I will memorize encyclopedias, wear power suits, speak every language, write screenplays, be a political activist, and attend literary book clubs with my brilliant and culturally diverse group of friends. I will constantly be offered research grants, invited to important national conferences and conventions, be given Pulitzer and Nobel Prizes, and be published in scholarly academic journals. There will be a large plot of land where every humane society animal in the country will run free. I will NEVER marry. If all else fails I will get a flat in London with Melissa and lots of used books, cats, and brightly colored scarves. I will do stuff like this or die. So shut up. Also be Youtube famous.
Age 19: I will get up and secretly go to a fertility specialist. I will induce lactation using a combination of herbs, hormones, and pumping. When I am sufficiently milky I will move to Bangladesh and breastfeed all the orphans til I die. BUW-HAHA!
Age 20: I will maybe like, you know, be selling my handmade fertility beads, and I could, like successfully do freelance writing online and do some gardening? And could birth babies and be being a Doula, and be sort of, practicing kinesiology on people and animals. And be like, teaching inner-city kids to dance, or the deaf kids? And be selling herbs out of the back of the van, while, i don’t know, drinking tea, writing poetry, and wearing funny skirts. Hm. With my husband. Whatever.
Now: I will become very close to God and also get married and then I will invite every foster child and abused Cambodian and Romania orphan into my home. We will all hold hands and dance to the beat of the bongo drum. None of them will have the same color skin as me and when they are crazy you can’t blame my genes. We will bring pies to invalid old ladies as a group and our hearts will be filled. I will solve all their problems and successfully rear them using only hugs and uninterrupted eye contact. And they will all wear tutus and brightly colored yoga skirts. Even the boys. At the beach.
The End.
And thanks
It can be found here: http://thehairpin.com/2010/12/some-futures-i-thought-i-might-have/
Reading it first might make this, make more sense,
Y'all, write your own too if you want! My friend Gracie already did, but I don't think I can link to it. I'm trying to make it the newest pass along over on Facebook. I feel like I'm coming out of the closet here.
Some futures I thought I might have
This is more memoir, than autobiography, if you know what I mean...
Age 3: I am secretly very special. Someday my powers will be known as I conquer the universe and save the world. I am basically a secret superhero.
Age 7: Ah, I guess it would be nice to do what it seems my mother did. Become very old (like 12), then conquer the teenage years with grace and confidence, then grow up, get a four year degree at a church school, then get married and BREED BREED BREED!!!!!!!!!!
And also be a vet with horse.
Age 9: I will write a book that encompasses my whole soul. It will be epic, read by all, and never forgotten.
Age 12: I will become a journalist or photographer or zoologist or definitely an actress, you know, something cool.
I will also do whatever the heck I want to, including buying that gorgeous mountain *wink to Anna* I saw at Grand Tetons National Park that looked like it had a naturally forming ice skating rink and build a castle there and live there with my husband will still maintaining the ability to order Pizza Hut.
Age 14: I will marry Johnny Depp or possibly a sexy 20 years older professor. Maybe both (not at the same time.) We will never argue about electricity bills or potatoes. He will be exactly like me only much better and obviously brilliant. He will wear jackets with elbow patches and grade papers at his oak desk in our library in our house near a bay window overlooking the snow covered woods in upstate new york. We will rear wholesome intellectuals.
Age 15: All men will be driven underground and harvested for sperm. I will rule.
Age 17: This will all go away and I will become Idina Menzel.
Age 18: My liberal arts education will infuse me with all knowledge of art, history, and everything worth knowing. I will be a stunning investigative journalist and also David Sedaris and a columnist for the New York Times. Gay men that I like will fall in love with me. Everything worth doing will be done and the world will be seen and traveled. I will move to the city and be amazing and also brilliant. No... No... I will become an amazing psychologist with 15 hundred grad degrees and a few books to my name. My theories will change the world. There will be no more suffering from abuse or mental illness and things I hate because of me. I will become proficient in the violin and at least two other instruments. I will memorize encyclopedias, wear power suits, speak every language, write screenplays, be a political activist, and attend literary book clubs with my brilliant and culturally diverse group of friends. I will constantly be offered research grants, invited to important national conferences and conventions, be given Pulitzer and Nobel Prizes, and be published in scholarly academic journals. There will be a large plot of land where every humane society animal in the country will run free. I will NEVER marry. If all else fails I will get a flat in London with Melissa and lots of used books, cats, and brightly colored scarves. I will do stuff like this or die. So shut up. Also be Youtube famous.
Age 19: I will get up and secretly go to a fertility specialist. I will induce lactation using a combination of herbs, hormones, and pumping. When I am sufficiently milky I will move to Bangladesh and breastfeed all the orphans til I die. BUW-HAHA!
Age 20: I will maybe like, you know, be selling my handmade fertility beads, and I could, like successfully do freelance writing online and do some gardening? And could birth babies and be being a Doula, and be sort of, practicing kinesiology on people and animals. And be like, teaching inner-city kids to dance, or the deaf kids? And be selling herbs out of the back of the van, while, i don’t know, drinking tea, writing poetry, and wearing funny skirts. Hm. With my husband. Whatever.
Now: I will become very close to God and also get married and then I will invite every foster child and abused Cambodian and Romania orphan into my home. We will all hold hands and dance to the beat of the bongo drum. None of them will have the same color skin as me and when they are crazy you can’t blame my genes. We will bring pies to invalid old ladies as a group and our hearts will be filled. I will solve all their problems and successfully rear them using only hugs and uninterrupted eye contact. And they will all wear tutus and brightly colored yoga skirts. Even the boys. At the beach.
The End.
And thanks
Friday, October 8, 2010
Crazy Cat Lady?
- http://www.nataliedee.com/
- http://icanhascheezburger.com/
- She hides under the bed, poor dear
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Comics
Zits by Jerry Scott and illustrated by Jim Borgman, Gary Larson, toothpastefordinner.com, hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com
Friday, October 1, 2010
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
True... very true Grandma
Today Grandma came downstairs four times! We were very surprised, and included her in the conversation.
Cousin had walked in on her employer- she's a nanny- naked.
Grandma looked at me with wide eyes and said..., "Well it's a good thing she's married now so she wasn't shocked by what she saw."
*crickets*
I said, "Grandma, she was shocked anyway."
She conceded.
When I told cousin, there was a long pause, and then cousin said, "Is she aware I had a child?"
Oh, Grandma, come downstairs and be awkward more often. Put on your stripey pants and we'll talk about the cats and look at old photos.
Love,
Your Granddaughter
Cousin had walked in on her employer- she's a nanny- naked.
Grandma looked at me with wide eyes and said..., "Well it's a good thing she's married now so she wasn't shocked by what she saw."
*crickets*
I said, "Grandma, she was shocked anyway."
She conceded.
When I told cousin, there was a long pause, and then cousin said, "Is she aware I had a child?"
Oh, Grandma, come downstairs and be awkward more often. Put on your stripey pants and we'll talk about the cats and look at old photos.
Love,
Your Granddaughter
Monday, September 27, 2010
My friend told me to promise i'd start a blog
No offense, but unless you actually have something to blog about (I may not...) I always thought of blogs as sort of a attention-whore thing, but here goes, because I've been told it's a funny...
Part 1: Count Down of My Last Half Dozen Dates
Part 1: Count Down of My Last Half Dozen Dates
#6- Guy: Snot-Nose ~ Lesson Learned: Boys are not Romantic, and neither am I
This group date was for a dance, and we were soooo very much just friends. To the point that I forgot myself completely, burped loudly after the dinner, and commented that my borrowed dress’s original owner was now a teen mom, to the annoyance of my best friend, who was the girl’s cousin. We ended up completely ignoring the dance aspect of the dance, and sitting down in the low light, chit-chatting about the nature of true love, the sub-text of which was that we liked other people.
#5- Guy: Kilt Boy ~Lesson Learned: There’s a fine line between “unique and special” and “weird and horrible”
I was originally attracted to this guy because he had recently returned from a visit to Scotland, and had the guts to be running around in the kilt he had purchased there. He also had the confidence to talk about un-manly things such as baking and his baby sister. I liked him a lot, but he turned out to be weirder than I thought, and gave me my first taste of being “dumped.” We were supposed to attend his Single Young Adults activity for our church, and I don’t remember what the activity was originally was supposed to be, but it was a lot better than what it ended up being, which was carving pumpkins. I have to be straight with you guys, one of the highlights of the awkwardness that night, was when I looked down at the bat I was insisting on continuing to try to carve into the side of the pumpkin, only to realize the design was all too obviously more phallic shaped than bat shaped.
#4- Guy: Mr. DelusionsofGrandeur ~Lesson Learned: Guys Think They Have a Lot to Prove
We met up at a poetry slam. It was great, we’d just spent three hours talking on the phone a few nights before, and he was fascinating and very intelligent.
I think one of the reasons he liked me is because I seemed supportive and tolerant of his complex ideas. But some his thoughts seemed over the top and non-sensical. He was one day going to live in a castle and basically create a slew of some sort of peace temples that would embrace all types of people and teach them to be accepting of each over. He was incredibly idealistic and driven. He couldn’t even communicate to me if he believed in God or not, because what he really believed in was altruism to the point that accepting or rejecting God would be accepting what some people believed but rejecting others. He couldn’t give me a compliment for fear of being insincere or shallow. In the end his idealistic ideas were too intense and overwhelming (crazy) for me, and I sent him a book on virtue by one of my Church's leaders, and slowly faded out of his life.
He’d suggested that I might deserve criticism at that poetry slam for looking disturbed during a semi-famous lesbian poet’s performance, but I was very moved by her work, it was the stench of another boy sitting next to me that caused the face, which leads me to...
#3- Guy: B.O. Boy ~Lesson Learned: BOYS ARE STINKY
I can’t bear to go into the details of this one, but we went to a history museum, and if you asked my old roommate about it, she’d probably shriek with laughter and do an impression of me, post-date, screeching, “I can’t smell anything else! The B.O. is burned into my nose for daaaaaaays!!!!”
#2- Guy: Shadow ~ Lesson Learned: Your boobs will be your best friend and your worst enemy.
Ok, so technically this wasn’t a date, as he was sort of my best friend’s boyfriend, but he was leaving the country and saying good-bye to me, as she was in a different state at the time. We decided to go to a cemetery after dark. It was kind of my idea, but he kept alluding to having done it before as a teenager, and something about the police. I couldn't get a straight answer from him, it’s legal in my hometown, but we were elsewhere and he spent the entire night dragging me from shadow to shadow so as not to be seen. I know it sounds like a dangerous date idea, but he was a buddy. I obviously wasn’t 100% convinced myself though, because as we pulled up to the cemetery I was so excited and nervous I blurted out, “You’re not a rapist are you?” I’m smooth, I know.
The awkwardness that night was mostly about my boobs. I would dash down a steep muddy hill in the darkness (to get to the next shadow of course) and in the creepy silence they would audibly slap together. Or I’d take his arm out of desperate nerves and at over 6 feet he’d keep elbowing The Girls by accident. Or how about when he found a tennis ball and tossed it at me just to startle me, and I screamed with fright as it hit me directly, guess where? Which was actually rather hypocritical of him, seeing as he kept getting annoyed with me for being irreverent or not taking ghosts seriously or something, as he’s had run-ins with such things. Boys are weird.
#1 Guy: Urkel ~Lesson Learned: Boys Don’t Know What You Want
This guy at first seemed mature, cute, cultured and interesting because he was from Nigeria. He was eager, and our first conversation gave me a false impression, as it was about the art he’d reviewed for a class. I found out after we were at the ballet I suggested, that he’d almost never attended any cultural performance of any kind. No biggie. This date was consumed by rather straight forward, run of the mill awkwardness. He made us late, he was dressed inappropriately, we got lost. He had bad breath, he was shorter than me, we had nothing in common. I had to shoulder the weight of keeping the conversation going, but then he almost never asked me questions about myself.
Excerpts from our conversations that night were as such::
Me: Cool, so what does your dad do now?
Him: He’s dead now.
Me: Huh?
Him: HE’S DEAD.
Me: Oh I’m so sorry!
Him: Psh, it’s no big deal, that was 5 years ago, a long time.
Me: Ok?
or
Him: Yeah, that was a really hard time in my life [he’s not talking about when his dad died here], I’d wake up and just feel awful.
Me: Oh really? That’s too bad.
Him: Yes, it was terrible.
Me: Oh wow.
Him: Yeah it was awful.
Me: Yeah? Hm, that’s too bad.
Him: Yes, it was.
It should also be noted that we were sitting only one row back from the stage, and the dancers had appalling camel toes. Also one number seemed to be some sort of statement about domestic abuse, as the male dancers were roughly dragging the female dancers around in a rather shocking manner. He was the most recent and we are currently tangled in a confusing web of Facebook “pokes.”
This group date was for a dance, and we were soooo very much just friends. To the point that I forgot myself completely, burped loudly after the dinner, and commented that my borrowed dress’s original owner was now a teen mom, to the annoyance of my best friend, who was the girl’s cousin. We ended up completely ignoring the dance aspect of the dance, and sitting down in the low light, chit-chatting about the nature of true love, the sub-text of which was that we liked other people.
#5- Guy: Kilt Boy ~Lesson Learned: There’s a fine line between “unique and special” and “weird and horrible”
I was originally attracted to this guy because he had recently returned from a visit to Scotland, and had the guts to be running around in the kilt he had purchased there. He also had the confidence to talk about un-manly things such as baking and his baby sister. I liked him a lot, but he turned out to be weirder than I thought, and gave me my first taste of being “dumped.” We were supposed to attend his Single Young Adults activity for our church, and I don’t remember what the activity was originally was supposed to be, but it was a lot better than what it ended up being, which was carving pumpkins. I have to be straight with you guys, one of the highlights of the awkwardness that night, was when I looked down at the bat I was insisting on continuing to try to carve into the side of the pumpkin, only to realize the design was all too obviously more phallic shaped than bat shaped.
#4- Guy: Mr. DelusionsofGrandeur ~Lesson Learned: Guys Think They Have a Lot to Prove
We met up at a poetry slam. It was great, we’d just spent three hours talking on the phone a few nights before, and he was fascinating and very intelligent.
I think one of the reasons he liked me is because I seemed supportive and tolerant of his complex ideas. But some his thoughts seemed over the top and non-sensical. He was one day going to live in a castle and basically create a slew of some sort of peace temples that would embrace all types of people and teach them to be accepting of each over. He was incredibly idealistic and driven. He couldn’t even communicate to me if he believed in God or not, because what he really believed in was altruism to the point that accepting or rejecting God would be accepting what some people believed but rejecting others. He couldn’t give me a compliment for fear of being insincere or shallow. In the end his idealistic ideas were too intense and overwhelming (crazy) for me, and I sent him a book on virtue by one of my Church's leaders, and slowly faded out of his life.
He’d suggested that I might deserve criticism at that poetry slam for looking disturbed during a semi-famous lesbian poet’s performance, but I was very moved by her work, it was the stench of another boy sitting next to me that caused the face, which leads me to...
#3- Guy: B.O. Boy ~Lesson Learned: BOYS ARE STINKY
I can’t bear to go into the details of this one, but we went to a history museum, and if you asked my old roommate about it, she’d probably shriek with laughter and do an impression of me, post-date, screeching, “I can’t smell anything else! The B.O. is burned into my nose for daaaaaaays!!!!”
#2- Guy: Shadow ~ Lesson Learned: Your boobs will be your best friend and your worst enemy.
Ok, so technically this wasn’t a date, as he was sort of my best friend’s boyfriend, but he was leaving the country and saying good-bye to me, as she was in a different state at the time. We decided to go to a cemetery after dark. It was kind of my idea, but he kept alluding to having done it before as a teenager, and something about the police. I couldn't get a straight answer from him, it’s legal in my hometown, but we were elsewhere and he spent the entire night dragging me from shadow to shadow so as not to be seen. I know it sounds like a dangerous date idea, but he was a buddy. I obviously wasn’t 100% convinced myself though, because as we pulled up to the cemetery I was so excited and nervous I blurted out, “You’re not a rapist are you?” I’m smooth, I know.
The awkwardness that night was mostly about my boobs. I would dash down a steep muddy hill in the darkness (to get to the next shadow of course) and in the creepy silence they would audibly slap together. Or I’d take his arm out of desperate nerves and at over 6 feet he’d keep elbowing The Girls by accident. Or how about when he found a tennis ball and tossed it at me just to startle me, and I screamed with fright as it hit me directly, guess where? Which was actually rather hypocritical of him, seeing as he kept getting annoyed with me for being irreverent or not taking ghosts seriously or something, as he’s had run-ins with such things. Boys are weird.
#1 Guy: Urkel ~Lesson Learned: Boys Don’t Know What You Want
This guy at first seemed mature, cute, cultured and interesting because he was from Nigeria. He was eager, and our first conversation gave me a false impression, as it was about the art he’d reviewed for a class. I found out after we were at the ballet I suggested, that he’d almost never attended any cultural performance of any kind. No biggie. This date was consumed by rather straight forward, run of the mill awkwardness. He made us late, he was dressed inappropriately, we got lost. He had bad breath, he was shorter than me, we had nothing in common. I had to shoulder the weight of keeping the conversation going, but then he almost never asked me questions about myself.
Excerpts from our conversations that night were as such::
Me: Cool, so what does your dad do now?
Him: He’s dead now.
Me: Huh?
Him: HE’S DEAD.
Me: Oh I’m so sorry!
Him: Psh, it’s no big deal, that was 5 years ago, a long time.
Me: Ok?
or
Him: Yeah, that was a really hard time in my life [he’s not talking about when his dad died here], I’d wake up and just feel awful.
Me: Oh really? That’s too bad.
Him: Yes, it was terrible.
Me: Oh wow.
Him: Yeah it was awful.
Me: Yeah? Hm, that’s too bad.
Him: Yes, it was.
It should also be noted that we were sitting only one row back from the stage, and the dancers had appalling camel toes. Also one number seemed to be some sort of statement about domestic abuse, as the male dancers were roughly dragging the female dancers around in a rather shocking manner. He was the most recent and we are currently tangled in a confusing web of Facebook “pokes.”
Thanks for the Memories, Boys
...Good Things Come to Those Who Wait
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