I've been watching Tool Academy on VH1. I have to admit, "tool" is a good word. I love to say: (Inset Name) is a tool; or what a fucking tool. Also adding on to this whole "tool" thing I like to say: He's not just a tool, he's a toolshed!
Here are some other good words:
Fucktard: Ok, this combines a word that isn't so nice, one that my mother really hates for me to say (and it's not the f*** word), but say it: Fucktard. It's just so fucking great. Now, use it in a sentence: This fucking fucktard cannot fucking drive for shit!
Ass Clown: This little combo was made famous in "Office Space." Remember, Michael Bolton was musing about the other Michael Bolton (the one who sings is a Toolshed) and called him a No-talent Ass Clown
Asshat: Keeping with this theme of asses, I also like Asshat. It's kind of a fun one. One of my favorite authors uses this in her writing, commonly using this term to describe Chicago drivers: Move over, you fucking asshat!
That's what she said: This is possible the best phrase IN THE WORLD. Commonly used by Michael Scott, fan of commonly use this phrase when it is warranted. Ex: (Someone to put a cork in a wine bottle...this scenarios so hapened over the weekend too!: It won't go in, it's too big. Me: THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID!
Shenanigans: Ok, this isn't a cuss word, but it's just one my favorites, the way it rolls off of the tongue. Try it out. Sha-nan-a-gans. SHENANIGANS! It's so much fun. You can say: I don't know what kind of shenanigans you're trying to pull, but I will not surrender this drink to you!
Maleficent: The baddest bitch EVER! The meanest villain in TV history. Really, this isn't a word, it's a name, but it is made of the root male which means Bad in English. Ex: Maleficent got pissed when her minions weren't smart enough to find Sleeping Beauty.
Fugly: I really do think I made this word up like fifteen years ago when I was merely a fifth grader who wanted to cuss badly. And so I began merging words together in a desperate attempt to cuss. Fugly (fucking ugly) is one of the best words. Fungry wasn't to bad either (fucking hungry).
Happy Camper: Another fun phrase. I like to say: I am not a happy camper. You can also say: Buck up, little camper.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Friday, February 13, 2009
Was that the Wind or the Big Bad Wolf?!
Wednesday was the wind storm of the century! Seriously! This past fall we had a storm come through that had previously been a hurricane way down in the 'ole Gulf of Mexico and got some major wind from that, but none of that matched the wind this past week. The news reported gusts of over 70 mph. That is nuts!
And our fence...our poor fence...well, it was no match for the super-wind gusts. Three sections of the privacy fence are now lost for good thanks to the gale-force gusts.
This means that when we let the babies out, we have to keep a strict eye on Mac. Mac, while he can be the best dog in the world, is also way too smart for his own good and loves to take a stroll. So instead of letting them out to do their business, we have to make sure that doing their business is all they are doing.
But that's not the real tragedy in all of this. The real tragedy is that my little brother is not home to take advantage of the fenceless-sections.
Why is this a tragedy? Let's back up the tape.
Back in May, right when he'd come back from college, Kevin went out. He tried to call his oldest sister (once) but since she needs at least two calls after midnight to rouse her from her comatose sleep, he gave up and apparently tried to let himself into the house. Now this is where the story gets interesting...
Sleep is my basically my favorite thing to do in the world. If I could become Rip Van Winkle and just fucking sleep my life away, I would! And I hate my alarm! I hate hearing the phone ring in my sleep. In college, everyone knew that unless you were Derek Jeter, I wouldn't answer the phone before noon (Yes, that begs the question how exactly would I know if Derek Jeter was calling b/c I wouldn't know his number, but hey, it sounds good).
Being awakened by a loud, deafening, glass-shaking banging sound is not high on my list, which is exactly how I woke this particular night. I jolt awake, sitting stock-straight up in my bed, grab my cell phone and see there's a missed call and somehow put two and two together and realize this banging is Kevin at the front door. I throw on my robe (and pull it tight this time) and run out to the front door.
Only...
Kevin isn't at the front door.
That's curious.
Then my mother comes running out of her room screaming: "It's an earthquake!" and acting like a general crazy person until she turns and sees a big hulking shadow in the sliding glass down that is blocking out the moonlight. Her cries of an earthquake turn to that of a criminal.
"It's just Kevin," I say and push past her to open the sliding glass door and let Kevin in.
That's when it dawns on me that Kevin has scaled a 6-foot privacy fence to bang (and I'm sure this was two-fisted) on my window. I lead him inside, making sure he is behind me with his hands on my shoulders. He's stumbling and if he passes out, I'd rather be braced for him to pass out and land across my back then to fall flat and have to pull his big ass into his room. My mom, disgusted, goes back to sleep. Kevin insisted he needs to tell his friends he's home, so I prop him against the couch and run outside to see an empty drive. Kevin appears at my side and says he dropped the key to the front door. The both of us then get down on our hands knees and look for his key, despite my protesting and telling him that I'm good and can take care of it. I find the key, get Kevin in bed, get myself to bed, then I hear a loud noise. I run back into Kevin's room. I'm sure he's fallen out of bed, but if he has, he managed to get himself back in bed before I arrived.
The morning comes and goes, Mac and I go for a 4-mile run and then it's 2:00 p.m. and I decide to wake the Brother Bear up. Besides, his car is still at a friend's house. On the way over to the friend's house, he asks if he was loud.
I just fucking laugh.
Then recant the whole story to him.
Then I find out that he had two keys to the house on him. I don't know where the fuck he got the one he dropped, but he had the one that was on his car keys the entire time. He has no clue what possessed him to go all Superman on the privacy fence and jump it, nor what propelled him to bang on my window.
This wasn't the last time that happened this summer. For some reason, my brother had a fascination with jumping the fence, calling us, and then having us let him in through the sliding glass door in the back.
And now, if he was home, he'd simply have to walk through the wind-blown opening (Although I'm sure, he'd still take pleasure in jumping the one of the sections that was still up!)
And our fence...our poor fence...well, it was no match for the super-wind gusts. Three sections of the privacy fence are now lost for good thanks to the gale-force gusts.
This means that when we let the babies out, we have to keep a strict eye on Mac. Mac, while he can be the best dog in the world, is also way too smart for his own good and loves to take a stroll. So instead of letting them out to do their business, we have to make sure that doing their business is all they are doing.
But that's not the real tragedy in all of this. The real tragedy is that my little brother is not home to take advantage of the fenceless-sections.
Why is this a tragedy? Let's back up the tape.
Back in May, right when he'd come back from college, Kevin went out. He tried to call his oldest sister (once) but since she needs at least two calls after midnight to rouse her from her comatose sleep, he gave up and apparently tried to let himself into the house. Now this is where the story gets interesting...
Sleep is my basically my favorite thing to do in the world. If I could become Rip Van Winkle and just fucking sleep my life away, I would! And I hate my alarm! I hate hearing the phone ring in my sleep. In college, everyone knew that unless you were Derek Jeter, I wouldn't answer the phone before noon (Yes, that begs the question how exactly would I know if Derek Jeter was calling b/c I wouldn't know his number, but hey, it sounds good).
Being awakened by a loud, deafening, glass-shaking banging sound is not high on my list, which is exactly how I woke this particular night. I jolt awake, sitting stock-straight up in my bed, grab my cell phone and see there's a missed call and somehow put two and two together and realize this banging is Kevin at the front door. I throw on my robe (and pull it tight this time) and run out to the front door.
Only...
Kevin isn't at the front door.
That's curious.
Then my mother comes running out of her room screaming: "It's an earthquake!" and acting like a general crazy person until she turns and sees a big hulking shadow in the sliding glass down that is blocking out the moonlight. Her cries of an earthquake turn to that of a criminal.
"It's just Kevin," I say and push past her to open the sliding glass door and let Kevin in.
That's when it dawns on me that Kevin has scaled a 6-foot privacy fence to bang (and I'm sure this was two-fisted) on my window. I lead him inside, making sure he is behind me with his hands on my shoulders. He's stumbling and if he passes out, I'd rather be braced for him to pass out and land across my back then to fall flat and have to pull his big ass into his room. My mom, disgusted, goes back to sleep. Kevin insisted he needs to tell his friends he's home, so I prop him against the couch and run outside to see an empty drive. Kevin appears at my side and says he dropped the key to the front door. The both of us then get down on our hands knees and look for his key, despite my protesting and telling him that I'm good and can take care of it. I find the key, get Kevin in bed, get myself to bed, then I hear a loud noise. I run back into Kevin's room. I'm sure he's fallen out of bed, but if he has, he managed to get himself back in bed before I arrived.
The morning comes and goes, Mac and I go for a 4-mile run and then it's 2:00 p.m. and I decide to wake the Brother Bear up. Besides, his car is still at a friend's house. On the way over to the friend's house, he asks if he was loud.
I just fucking laugh.
Then recant the whole story to him.
Then I find out that he had two keys to the house on him. I don't know where the fuck he got the one he dropped, but he had the one that was on his car keys the entire time. He has no clue what possessed him to go all Superman on the privacy fence and jump it, nor what propelled him to bang on my window.
This wasn't the last time that happened this summer. For some reason, my brother had a fascination with jumping the fence, calling us, and then having us let him in through the sliding glass door in the back.
And now, if he was home, he'd simply have to walk through the wind-blown opening (Although I'm sure, he'd still take pleasure in jumping the one of the sections that was still up!)
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
My Trash TV Habit
I'm not feeling well. It's a miracle I'm able to get myself into work. So that means at night when I come home, even more worthless than regular. And the Trash TV habit has grown by leaps and bounds:
VH1: Home to the World's Best Trash TV! We have
Flavor of Love
I Love New York
Rock of Love
Charm School
I love Money
Confessions of a Teen Idol
Sober House
Oxygen gives us Bad Girls Club.
And because the program is somewhat sparse on VH1 and Oxygen, you can almost always tune into these channels on any given day and pick up where you left off. That makes viewing worthwhile because you don't have to miss the simultaneous taping of quality programming like Life on Mars and CSI: New York or Desperate Housewives and Cold Case.
The CW...How could I possibly forget you with gems such as Top Model (which will soon be new again) and 90210. BUT! WTF is up with no new 90210 until MARCH 31! That's absurd! That's preposterous! That's downright criminal! You knew people would watch back in November when you pulled the plug two months, so why didn't you put those skinny actresses to work making a full schedule of episodes instead of making us wait SIX WEEKS for a new episode!
Come on, CW! Get your act together and give us new episodes! And cut the cheese factor on Top Model! Last scene's them was a joke!
VH1: Home to the World's Best Trash TV! We have
Flavor of Love
I Love New York
Rock of Love
Charm School
I love Money
Confessions of a Teen Idol
Sober House
Oxygen gives us Bad Girls Club.
And because the program is somewhat sparse on VH1 and Oxygen, you can almost always tune into these channels on any given day and pick up where you left off. That makes viewing worthwhile because you don't have to miss the simultaneous taping of quality programming like Life on Mars and CSI: New York or Desperate Housewives and Cold Case.
The CW...How could I possibly forget you with gems such as Top Model (which will soon be new again) and 90210. BUT! WTF is up with no new 90210 until MARCH 31! That's absurd! That's preposterous! That's downright criminal! You knew people would watch back in November when you pulled the plug two months, so why didn't you put those skinny actresses to work making a full schedule of episodes instead of making us wait SIX WEEKS for a new episode!
Come on, CW! Get your act together and give us new episodes! And cut the cheese factor on Top Model! Last scene's them was a joke!
Monday, February 2, 2009
The Office Roast!
It's Monday night, I've been home from work for an hour...long enough to re-watch the latest episode of The Office, the one that came on after Super Bowl last night (Feb. 1). I STILL don't think I've been able to take in all of the episode, there are so many things to choose from...but I'm going to list my fave moments from the episode (and I'm sure I'll think of more).
1. Andy trying the door handle.
2. Oscar going through the ceiling and Angela throwing her cat, Bandit, to him and Bandit crashing back down through the ceiling.
3. Corporate "disciplining" Dwight.
4. Creed's lines - "He doesn't have a wallet. I checked." and "Get over it, he's dead." "What's a text."
5. "Assessing" the situation.
6. Michael forgetting the warehouse guy's name (It was Michael)
7. Angela roasting Michael.
8. Pam saying "Michael's a great delegator. He never does any work himself."
9. "Jim, you're 6'11 and weigh 90 pounds...Gumby has a better body than you."
10. Crashing the copier into the door.
11. Throwing the projector out of the window.
12. Kevin attacking the vending machine.
13. Stanley's heart attack.
14. Dwight saying "You can start by jogging up here and signing my apology."
15. Power Point is boring.
AND FINALLY
Dwight cutting the dummy's face off and impersonating Hannibal Lector!!!!!!
CLASSIC!
Feel free to add on to this post and tell me what you liked about the episode.
1. Andy trying the door handle.
2. Oscar going through the ceiling and Angela throwing her cat, Bandit, to him and Bandit crashing back down through the ceiling.
3. Corporate "disciplining" Dwight.
4. Creed's lines - "He doesn't have a wallet. I checked." and "Get over it, he's dead." "What's a text."
5. "Assessing" the situation.
6. Michael forgetting the warehouse guy's name (It was Michael)
7. Angela roasting Michael.
8. Pam saying "Michael's a great delegator. He never does any work himself."
9. "Jim, you're 6'11 and weigh 90 pounds...Gumby has a better body than you."
10. Crashing the copier into the door.
11. Throwing the projector out of the window.
12. Kevin attacking the vending machine.
13. Stanley's heart attack.
14. Dwight saying "You can start by jogging up here and signing my apology."
15. Power Point is boring.
AND FINALLY
Dwight cutting the dummy's face off and impersonating Hannibal Lector!!!!!!
CLASSIC!
Feel free to add on to this post and tell me what you liked about the episode.
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