Actual incident over long Thanksgiving weekend:
(on radio) ... and I just want to dedicate this special song to my husband, because he's so great, and I just want to give him the best gift ever!
Katie & Gina, in unison: Give him a blowjob.
Monday, November 28, 2005
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
Friend or Foe-hawk?
I gotta say, officially, I'm over the faux-hawk. I still approve of it some instances, such as the following: if you're not a raging bitchy dyke, then yes, a faux-hawk is still okay. Otherwise? Shave it. Do us all a favor.
This is why I hate this hairstyle: in my many, many nights spent in lesbian bars over the last few years, I have maybe met one or two worthwhile women sporting this 'do. The rest of them have been entirely forgettable if not downright unfriendly.
Last night, gina and I went to Guys. I used to go to this bar all the time, and I would have fun there. Last night, however, the crowd was about 10 years younger than normal, and it was apparently free drink night if you showed your "I'm a bitch" card at the door.
I really try to give people the benefit of the doubt, but I witnessed something last night that made me realize my hasty generalizations might not be so hasty. Two girls who looked exactly the same, both with faux-hawks and stretched earlobes, were standing at the bar, waiting for their drinks. It was clear with one look that these girls thought they were the bee’s knees. I mean, we were all so lucky to be in their presence.
I watched a short cuddly-looking girl with braces, not much older than 22, walk up to these 2 faux-hawks with a look of excited recognition. Yay! She was meeting friends out and she found them! She hadn't come alone... she was flanked by two shy girls who waited behind while she walked up to the two faux-hawks. She tapped one of the faux-hawks on the back. Nothing. Tapped her again. Nothing. Put her full hand on her back and rubbed it in that friendly sort of way that usually illicits a warm hug. Faux-Hawk 1 turned around and looked at her. Cuddly girl waved and smiled. Faux-Hawk 1 turned back to the bar.
THEN, Cuddly Girl did the same thing to Faux-Hawk 2, and Faux-Hawk 2 had the same response. Looked at her, and turned back to the bar. No hug, no motion that said "hang on a sec, I'm ordering a drink," nothing. These Faux-Hawks totally blew off this girl, a girl they clearly knew but maybe didn't want to know.
In my most adult move of the day, I complained about it to gina, motioning to the Faux-Hawks, and then I started making faces behind their backs: "Oh, I'm SO important! Look at my faux-hawk!"
I'm lucky those girls didn't see me, because they could've kicked my ass, for sure.
This is why I hate this hairstyle: in my many, many nights spent in lesbian bars over the last few years, I have maybe met one or two worthwhile women sporting this 'do. The rest of them have been entirely forgettable if not downright unfriendly.
Last night, gina and I went to Guys. I used to go to this bar all the time, and I would have fun there. Last night, however, the crowd was about 10 years younger than normal, and it was apparently free drink night if you showed your "I'm a bitch" card at the door.
I really try to give people the benefit of the doubt, but I witnessed something last night that made me realize my hasty generalizations might not be so hasty. Two girls who looked exactly the same, both with faux-hawks and stretched earlobes, were standing at the bar, waiting for their drinks. It was clear with one look that these girls thought they were the bee’s knees. I mean, we were all so lucky to be in their presence.
I watched a short cuddly-looking girl with braces, not much older than 22, walk up to these 2 faux-hawks with a look of excited recognition. Yay! She was meeting friends out and she found them! She hadn't come alone... she was flanked by two shy girls who waited behind while she walked up to the two faux-hawks. She tapped one of the faux-hawks on the back. Nothing. Tapped her again. Nothing. Put her full hand on her back and rubbed it in that friendly sort of way that usually illicits a warm hug. Faux-Hawk 1 turned around and looked at her. Cuddly girl waved and smiled. Faux-Hawk 1 turned back to the bar.
THEN, Cuddly Girl did the same thing to Faux-Hawk 2, and Faux-Hawk 2 had the same response. Looked at her, and turned back to the bar. No hug, no motion that said "hang on a sec, I'm ordering a drink," nothing. These Faux-Hawks totally blew off this girl, a girl they clearly knew but maybe didn't want to know.
In my most adult move of the day, I complained about it to gina, motioning to the Faux-Hawks, and then I started making faces behind their backs: "Oh, I'm SO important! Look at my faux-hawk!"
I'm lucky those girls didn't see me, because they could've kicked my ass, for sure.
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
What's funny?
My friend Amy calls me just about every day in the morning. She plays it off as "I'm just calling to say hi," but really, I think she's using me for my ability to make her laugh. I enjoy the attention, so I don't say anything.
She called me this morning and the following conversation ensued:
Amy: I love slash hate you right now!
Me: Why?
Amy: Because I just visited your new journal and I saw dooce.com linked on it, and I was thinking, oh, what's this website? I clicked on it and...
Me: I know! Magic, right?
Amy: I literally have been reading it for three hours, thinking, how could she have not told me about this website??
Me: I DID tell you!
Amy: I need to start listening to you more.
A little later...
Me: That's why I haven't posted on my blog in a week, because nothing funny has happened, and I only want to write about funny things.
Amy: Funny things happen all the time.
Me: Yeah, but I'm not creative enough to realize it.
Amy: Yes you are. You know what you should write about?
Me: What?
Amy: You should write about how our answer to a bad day is a shot and a pitcher of beer. That's real healthy.
She is referring to this past Saturday... when the following conversation ensued:
Me: (answering phone) Hello?
Amy: Hi! Wait. What's wrong? Are you okay?
Me: No.
Amy: You and I need to be drunk right now. How soon can you get here?
...which led to the following drinks being consumed between the two of us at a bar in Manhattan Beach:
3 pitchers of beer
2 kamikaze shots
1 vodka tonic
...wherein we learned that some problems have no reasonable solution, and you have to just basically take it up the ass.
*shrug*
She called me this morning and the following conversation ensued:
Amy: I love slash hate you right now!
Me: Why?
Amy: Because I just visited your new journal and I saw dooce.com linked on it, and I was thinking, oh, what's this website? I clicked on it and...
Me: I know! Magic, right?
Amy: I literally have been reading it for three hours, thinking, how could she have not told me about this website??
Me: I DID tell you!
Amy: I need to start listening to you more.
A little later...
Me: That's why I haven't posted on my blog in a week, because nothing funny has happened, and I only want to write about funny things.
Amy: Funny things happen all the time.
Me: Yeah, but I'm not creative enough to realize it.
Amy: Yes you are. You know what you should write about?
Me: What?
Amy: You should write about how our answer to a bad day is a shot and a pitcher of beer. That's real healthy.
She is referring to this past Saturday... when the following conversation ensued:
Me: (answering phone) Hello?
Amy: Hi! Wait. What's wrong? Are you okay?
Me: No.
Amy: You and I need to be drunk right now. How soon can you get here?
...which led to the following drinks being consumed between the two of us at a bar in Manhattan Beach:
3 pitchers of beer
2 kamikaze shots
1 vodka tonic
...wherein we learned that some problems have no reasonable solution, and you have to just basically take it up the ass.
*shrug*
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
I'm learning...
You want to know what I can't figure out how to do here? I'll tell you.
Thanks to KTP, I learned of HaloScan comments. I like the fact that you can type in your name, email, and homepage, and leave a comment. It's very user-friendly.
Naturally, when I started up this version of my blog, I wanted to use HaloScan comments. I went to the website and since I'm HTML illiterate, I opted for the automatic setup of HaloScan. All it asked for was my blogger name and password, and ta-da! HaloScan comments are added.
HOWEVER, when I make ANY template changes, the HaloScan comments disappear. It's like the code for the HaloScan comments is not in my template, and it's somehow magically appearing on my blog anyway, and the minute I change my template to, let's say, add on another site I visit, the HaloScan comments disappear.
This sucks.
So... until I learn how to fix it, I have to add to my list of sites I visit every day a website I didn't have the address for last night when I was working on this. (The address is on my computer at work, so I checked it today and made a note to add it.)
The website is: Amanda B.'s Very Zen website. Amanda, if you read this, as soon as I figure out what the hell I need to do to add you to the side of my page, I'll do it.
Thanks to KTP, I learned of HaloScan comments. I like the fact that you can type in your name, email, and homepage, and leave a comment. It's very user-friendly.
Naturally, when I started up this version of my blog, I wanted to use HaloScan comments. I went to the website and since I'm HTML illiterate, I opted for the automatic setup of HaloScan. All it asked for was my blogger name and password, and ta-da! HaloScan comments are added.
HOWEVER, when I make ANY template changes, the HaloScan comments disappear. It's like the code for the HaloScan comments is not in my template, and it's somehow magically appearing on my blog anyway, and the minute I change my template to, let's say, add on another site I visit, the HaloScan comments disappear.
This sucks.
So... until I learn how to fix it, I have to add to my list of sites I visit every day a website I didn't have the address for last night when I was working on this. (The address is on my computer at work, so I checked it today and made a note to add it.)
The website is: Amanda B.'s Very Zen website. Amanda, if you read this, as soon as I figure out what the hell I need to do to add you to the side of my page, I'll do it.
Um, that's not your cup.
Gina, being the environmentally conscious gal that she is, has a cup she bought from Starbucks about a year ago. It's a black travel mug, and it has seen better days. Its biggest offense is that it's missing its lid, so coffee spills quite a bit in her car, but dammit, she's not throwing anything away! She used to frequent a coffee shop in the Bay Area, a very Bay Area type of coffee shop whose employees most likely think Starbucks is the incarnation of all that is evil in the world, and upon suggestion of someone at that Bay Area coffee shop, Gina covered the "Starbucks" logo on the cup with a recipe for Pear Ginger Tarts (provided, I believe, by the offended Bay Area coffee shop).
Last night, we went to a Starbucks in Van Nuys. Gina strolled in with coffee cup in hand and ordered her soy caramel latte (sauce AND syrup, thanks). I ordered a tall decaf drip, as I have given up caffeinated coffee (except on weekends). As we waited for her coffee to be ready, we stood several feet away from the bar, chatting. The barista set her cup on the bar and pushed it towards a girl maybe a little younger than me, and then asked, "Did you want caramel on top?" The girl smiled and said yes, and Gina and I watched as the barista amended the drink in Gina's personal cup for some stranger. The barista put the caramel sauce on top, and the girl took the cup. She looked at the protective sleeve, and brought the BLACK STARBUCKS CUP MISSING A LID to the cream and sugar bar. Gina and I watched with an amused disbelief. We wanted to see how long it would take her to realize she had someone else's cup. She went to POUR SUGAR into the CARAMEL LATTE, and I finally said, "Um, that's not your cup."
She gave me a puzzled look, and for a moment, I thought she might not speak English.
"Look at it," I said. "That's not your cup."
She looked at it, confused. Then, as if we offended her, "Well, I'm sorry, that's the one she gave me."
I wanted to say, "So if I give you the keys to my cavalier and take the keys to your BMW, you'll take my car because those are the keys I gave you?"
Instead, we just walked away.
Last night, we went to a Starbucks in Van Nuys. Gina strolled in with coffee cup in hand and ordered her soy caramel latte (sauce AND syrup, thanks). I ordered a tall decaf drip, as I have given up caffeinated coffee (except on weekends). As we waited for her coffee to be ready, we stood several feet away from the bar, chatting. The barista set her cup on the bar and pushed it towards a girl maybe a little younger than me, and then asked, "Did you want caramel on top?" The girl smiled and said yes, and Gina and I watched as the barista amended the drink in Gina's personal cup for some stranger. The barista put the caramel sauce on top, and the girl took the cup. She looked at the protective sleeve, and brought the BLACK STARBUCKS CUP MISSING A LID to the cream and sugar bar. Gina and I watched with an amused disbelief. We wanted to see how long it would take her to realize she had someone else's cup. She went to POUR SUGAR into the CARAMEL LATTE, and I finally said, "Um, that's not your cup."
She gave me a puzzled look, and for a moment, I thought she might not speak English.
"Look at it," I said. "That's not your cup."
She looked at it, confused. Then, as if we offended her, "Well, I'm sorry, that's the one she gave me."
I wanted to say, "So if I give you the keys to my cavalier and take the keys to your BMW, you'll take my car because those are the keys I gave you?"
Instead, we just walked away.
Monday, November 14, 2005
This time, we're drawing blood.
It's official. I'm moving my journal to blogger.com. And here it is! You've found it!
I'm switching over for many reasons, none of which I'll entertain you with here, but I think my 3 readers will enjoy this format more.
Eventually, I'd like to have a place where I'm archiving all this stuff, but for now, if you'd like to read any back entries, feel free to visit my livejournal:
http://www.livejournal.com/users/eternal_buzz/
In the meantime, come over here so I can ceremoniously cut you.
I'm switching over for many reasons, none of which I'll entertain you with here, but I think my 3 readers will enjoy this format more.
Eventually, I'd like to have a place where I'm archiving all this stuff, but for now, if you'd like to read any back entries, feel free to visit my livejournal:
http://www.livejournal.com/users/eternal_buzz/
In the meantime, come over here so I can ceremoniously cut you.
Friday, November 11, 2005
Alarming
You know the normal car alarm sound? It's like: whoop, whoop, whoop, whoop, nee-ner, nee-ner, nee-ner, nee-ner, pow, pow. pow, pow, doo-DOO, doo-DOO, doo-DOO, doo-DOO.
You know.
Well, today, as Gina and I were in the parking lot at Starbucks for our daily fix (I'm going with the caffeine-free espresso drinks, an oxymoron in the highest terms), we heard a small, unobtrusive beeping. It was similar to that of a large truck backing up, but if it had been a large truck, it would've been about a half mile away, it was so quiet. I then thought it was a smoke alarm... again, a half mile away... some sort of outdoor smoke alarm, I imagined.
We finally got out of the car and I saw the source of the noise. It was the ever-threatening alarm for the pinkish red Dodge Neon parked a few spaces away. It's lights were blinking on and off and it wasn't even making a "beep-beep" noise... it was more like, "bep bep bep."
I didn't know Dodge Neons were such hot items these days.
You know.
Well, today, as Gina and I were in the parking lot at Starbucks for our daily fix (I'm going with the caffeine-free espresso drinks, an oxymoron in the highest terms), we heard a small, unobtrusive beeping. It was similar to that of a large truck backing up, but if it had been a large truck, it would've been about a half mile away, it was so quiet. I then thought it was a smoke alarm... again, a half mile away... some sort of outdoor smoke alarm, I imagined.
We finally got out of the car and I saw the source of the noise. It was the ever-threatening alarm for the pinkish red Dodge Neon parked a few spaces away. It's lights were blinking on and off and it wasn't even making a "beep-beep" noise... it was more like, "bep bep bep."
I didn't know Dodge Neons were such hot items these days.
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