Wednesday, May 31, 2006

Change your CD before giving Grandma-in-law a lift

Grandma-in-law is a sweet, mild mannered, conservative, and overall classy older lady from Oklahoma. I am not. I am dirty and from Ohio.

She doesn't have to know this.

As the newest member of the family, I am still trying to make a good impression with her every time I see her. I am nothing if not polite. I am sweet. I tone it down a peg or two. Things go well, when I see Grandma-in-law. I am the best version of myself. I may almost have her thinking I am like this all the time.

Then I give sweet Grandma-in-law a ride. "I insist! Here, sit up front with me. Is your seat adjusted in a way that is comfortable for you?" So sweet. So considerate.

I turn the key in the ignition.


The lyrics (and I kid you not): "Maybe we can make some cash selling...A$$! Selling a$$ for heroin...A$$! Selling a$$ for heroin!!"

I freeze. I turn an unfortunate shade of crimson. In a panic, I reach for the volume dial to turn it down. Opps. Wrong way. Louder. "A$$!"

I think--Stay calm, and turn it down. TURN IT DOWN!
No--still wrong way "SELLING A$$ FOR HEROIN!!!!"

Off! OFF! Silence. Sweet silence.

Now awkwardness.

"Um...I thought Enya was in there..."

Sweet grandma from Oklahoma asks, "So, is your brother still planning on moving?" See? I told you she was classy. Never has the subject of my brother's moving to Ohio been more welcome. The moment passes but the scars remain.

The moral: System of a Down and sweet grandmothers do NOT mix. Please look to me as a cautionary tale, and CHANGE THE CD before you give sweet, older relatives you want to impress a ride.

People use that pet name for reals???

We may make too much noise in the lunchroom, but at least none of us have EVER had hella loud personal cell phone conversations in there that included the phrase "WELL HELLLLLOOOO, SWEETUMS!!!!"

Sweetums?? We are all very very sorry.

Thursday, May 25, 2006

I guess this is why it's called "acting"

From a People Magazine (yes, I read it like it's the New England Journal of Medicine, Time or something equally as important) interview with Prison Break's Wentworth Miller.
Your character [Michael Scofield, a crusading structural engineer] is pretty daring. What's the boldest thing you've ever done?
In college I was part of a singing group, and we sang a benefit for the American Red Cross in Carnegie Hall. Stepping out on that stage, knowing the artists and musicians who performed there over the years, was intimidating as hell.

Intimidating, I'm sure. Bold? Well, let's see. Did he break from the ranks, stage-diving into the teeming mosh pit of fans of the Princeton Tigertones (yes, after reading this interview, I felt the need to check his bio on IMDB)? No. In the middle of the Tigertones rendition of Kiss da Girl--made famous by Disney's Sebastian--did he bust out in some Jay-Z? No. Was he out there all by himself on that great big historic stage? No!

Mr. Miller is a fine looking gentleman. And if Joan of Arcadia hadn't been cancelled--damn CBS and J.Lo Hewitt--he'd have been a hella Satan. But from now on, I'm going to have a little trouble suspending belief and seeing him as the tough guy when the boldest thing he's done is...uh...standing on a stage with 13 other guys and singing.

So, I guess that's why it's called acting...

Wednesday, May 24, 2006

Recipe for the most sexist buckeyes ever

For a guy:
1) Find a woman--all women enjoy making candy for the boys.
2) E-mail her at her place of business--chances are she is probably just typing in a tight cardigan, or fetching coffee for The Man anyway--and you have a craving!
3) Send her an online recipe for the aforementioned sexist buckeyes--because you know she is going to be REALLY concerned that she make them correctly for you. Especially if your friendship is peripheral and you have never given her anything.
4) Send her a picture of a double boiler.
5) Sit back and hold your breath.
6) Enjoy!

For a woman:
1) Receive one e-mail from man with buckeye craving.
2) Send him picture of one ripe armadillo.
3) Forward e-mail and armadillo picture to girl friends
4) Receive a "hells yeah!" Let simmer. Snicker and blog. Repeat.
5) Any dishes you are randomly requested to prepare by your husband's friends are best served COLD

A blogger by any other name....

Before we all pour some liquor on the ground for our fallen homie, let me reassure you that Tina, yo lives on, just under a different name.....yo.
See, remembering passwords is HARD! And I believe I typed in my e-mail address wrong, SO long story short, Tina, yo can be no more. Allow me to introduce you to Britney, yo. Still thriving, still SO on, still without any redeeming qualities. But, of all possible names, why "Britney, yo?"
No, I have no K Fed buns in the oven, I just feel that the name is appropriate because, this party barge of alligators is a place were ultra professional women (hee--personhole) who constantly have to be primped and polished-- and the one token guy--can totally be themselves. This is our red bull guzzling, Cheetos eating, Uggs and a towel in the local Blockbuster, brushing your hair is over-rated, Coke stain on the "Don't be mad at me when I'm mad at you" tee shirt, inappropriate trucker hat, one more child will bring us closer together, yo, nest of sanctuary.
So, let's pile our hair up on top of our heads, toss some visible Clearasil on our mugs, light up a Camel, and get out there.
Happy Blogging, y'all!!!!!

Tuesday, May 23, 2006

We are professionals

Personhole. *hee* It just sounds dirty.

Congratulations, you've officially worked everywhere

One of my former places of employ was flamed in the Straight Dope BBQ Pit for running ads saying carbon dioxide production is good.

Stay in D.C. long enough, nothing surprises you much.

P.S. One of my least brilliant moments ever was misspelling their money quote as "One of Washington's fiestiest think tanks" on the back cover of the annual report. Olé!

Friday, May 19, 2006

Recipe for the Most Boring Salad Ever


Handful of salad from a bag (spinach preferably)
Dollup of Catalina salad dressing (Safeway brand "California style" okay)

Put handful of bagged salad onto plate or into bowl. Pour dressing on top. Served chilled. Enjoy!

Variations: add shredded mild cheddar cheese to make the Most Boring Taco Salad Ever.

Aptitude or Attitude, Nature or Nurture?

tina, yo: Our neuroses don't really help much in our job.

seamus, yo: But our psychoses are quite useful.

Thursday, May 18, 2006

Missing Toes, Lonely Mate

I live in one of those neighborhoods where there's a fairly high tolerance of variations in yard maintenance. The degree of lawn care and shrub pruning varies wildly at Le Maison de Bailey, depending on how much wine we've drunk or whether a mother-in-law is in town. (Mothers-in-law are mad for gardening, it would seem.)

Yard ornamentation is all over the map, too. Most folks get their Christmas lights down by July; one fellow favors large concrete statuary; the band group house has had a six-foot plush snake wrapped around their front walk banister for three years. We're too busy drinking wine and plotting the revolution to git after much code enforcement.

But I give a cold dose of stink-eye to neighbors committing what I consider the cardinal sin: parking their formerly indoor-residing upholstered furniture on their front porch. Just because the cat shredded the dusty rose velveteen couch or the naugahyde Barcalounge split along the seams, that doesn't mean it now counts as "outdoor furniture." It means that it is old and busted and should be taken out back and shot. If it's no longer good enough for inside your house, why in the world would you put it on your front porch for God and everyone to see?

I get a shudder of joy up my spine when I see a For Sale sign in the front lawn of one of these houses. It not only means that the people who obviously lack basic social skills are leaving my 'hood -- it means that their circa-1974 plaid sectional will soon make the short, but ultimate walk to the curb, at the insistence of their real estate agent.

One of the long-time offenders on my street finally succumbed about a month ago, and it was even more satisfying because they and their overstuffed mustard rocking recliner were apparently evicted. Look, I said to Mr. Bailey, they've being punished for their aesthetic crimes! Mr. Bailey, ever the Wonder Killer, countered that they had probably abandoned the house and their rental payments along with their recliner.

But Karma is a mean-ass bitch, and she did not care for my gloating one bit. For in place of the mustard recliner, she has given me The Bird Lady. There's a new front-porch horror in my 'hood: people who put big ole bird cages full of squawking, shrieking parakeets and other feathered things on their lawn and porch. Bird Lady sits on her old milking stool and removes the birds one at a time, holds them up to the sky, whirls them in what must be a few nausea-inducing loops around her torso, and talks to them in a high-pitched voice.

Yesterday, one of her charges had apparently had enough of this foolishness, and bolted. Hand-lettered signs on half-sheets of neon posterboard bloomed like dandelions on the street corners last night:

#### XX Street
Flew OFF 5/17
Green, Missing toes
Lonely Mate at Home!!!

While I do question Bird Lady's mental stability, this sign is a great reminder that sometimes, The Crazy really do give us some awesome blogging material.

Wednesday, May 17, 2006

Third Degree

Grilled swordfish for dinner, but couldn't get it to talk!

Tuesday, May 16, 2006

How stalking can ruin your day.

1. Use Google to find out where your urologist lives.

2. Use to find out how much your urologist paid for his house.

3. Use Zillow to find out how much your urologist's house is now worth.

4. Find a fork.

5. Jab it in your eye. Repeat until blind.

Monday, May 15, 2006


Come back, West Wing. All is forgiven, baby. I'm sorry I ditched you after the third season, saying it could never be so good as when Sam Seaborn around. I forgot about all the good times with C.J., Toby, and Charlie. Okay, so Donna always bugged me, but I should have been nicer about your friends. I'm sorry it took me so long to call after Leo died. You're right, it never did stop feeling like Leo's office.

West Wing, we were so good together, you and me. Why weren't we strong enough to handle things when Aaron Sorkin left? You just got so annoying self-absorbed, and I switched to a Wednesday night yoga class, and we just drifted apart. Next thing I know, you've moved out, to Sunday night.

Baby, I know you tried so hard to make me happy last night. And it was really good, just like old times. I would have loved you even if you hadn't given me one last look at Sam doing what he does best.

Sunday, May 14, 2006

The Connecticut (Ave.) Trail

Adventures in the city

Day 1, hour 1

Set out on a cloudy spring day, heading southwest toward Cleveland (Park). Our (Veronica, yo, and Tina, yo) goal was simple enough: find a residence to reside in, followed by perusing works of a famous artist. The travels took us through several dwellings, but the true tale begin anon. (hee, anon.)

Upon disembarking the front stoop, our path was blocked by a bunch of teeming masses, some of which were unwashed. We wondered about them, as they streamed out of the tunnel, dazed, but we pressed on, for we had a destination. Curiosity eventually won out, and we returned to the gaggle of humantity. One of our party (M.T. Moore, yo) stopped and questioned a more washed individual who said that a medical emergency had plagued the rail lines. She immediately assured us that she was from afar as though to disavow any fault at what had occured on Metro. Good thing she told us, because we were about to blame her.

M.T. Moore, yo, soon had to leave, but we first visited her new chandelier, which had more personality than any of us put together, plus some. It was offputting to be upstaged by a chandelier, so we pressed on.

Not soon later, the skies aopened, and a hideous deluge was upon us. We raced after an L2 bus, who took one look at us and denied our entry. It was the public transportation's equivalent to saying "We weren't on the list."

Seeking refuge under an overhang, we awaited another transport. Several no passengers shuttles passed, but still we remained stranded. It was clear we were going to have to make the trek. The rain kept falling.

Since the beginning of time, man has relied on ponchos, and as we knew where we could find available ponchos, we decided to invest. Superbly attired in sheer, yellow, plastic ponchos emblazoned with CVS pharmacy (is abreast funnier? Vote now in comments), we headed out, but first were accosted by an older gentleman (or was he? Vote now). He was a close talker, and unnerving, so we fled the scene, our ponchos aflap in the breeze.

One more stop, before heading back. The building was guarded with an bitter old lunch lady type, or maybe like the evil mama in The Goonies. If she had been adored with a hairnet, it would have been appropriate. We stopped into an open house, but it was not so much open, nor a house. The place was guarded by a real estate agent/cryptkeeper--we are pretty sure he had died 50 years ago, but his spirit remained to show apartments to unsuspecting buyers. We proceeded to tell the tale of how the building had housed nurses during wartime, perhaps he died in one of their arms. Greatest Generation he was not. It was time to go, but the rain continued. Perhaps Creepy McCreeperton would offer us a ride on his Ghost Ship? (Suddently he would become a skeletal pirate, and we become damsels in corsets with ringlets.) We decided it would be better to set out on foot, and leave the Ghost Ship to head off to the horizon or disappear in the mist.

They say you don't know a person until you've walked a mile in their shoes, but now Tina, yo, and Veronica, yo, can say that they know one another. A different foot perspective indeed. While awalking, the burden of one's flip flops and one's sandals were too much, so we switched foot apparel. Alighting, it was time to stop at the store for some sustinence, but the wittles we desired were not to be found.

To be continued....

Friday, May 12, 2006

When Happy Hour isn't

Chained to the desk, and then chained to one's dinner party obligations. Unable to meet the fellow 'gaters on the barge for some Friday libations.

Press Release

[Alligators' Employer] does not applaud, laud, or generally celebrate much of anything. We give the occasional shout out or mad props, but that's about it.

TaB Vs. TaB Energy -- a pros vs. cons list for each

TaB Pros
1) It's the automatically diet, refreshingly retro soda pop sweeping the nation, yo.
2) It's called TaB--you have to like the straightforwardness of TaB. None of this "Sierra Mist" bull****, I mean seriously, what's that?
3) It comes in a pink can with a nice diagonal, pinstripe look that compliments any look, any season.
4) It's TaB!

TaB Cons

1) Like there ARE any. Well, aside from cancer....

TaB Energy Pros

1) It's TaB Energy. It's TaB does Red Bull--Hee.
2) The drink itself is a pleasing pink color--you'd SWEAR it would actually taste good.
3) Cheese is milk's spring towards immortality. TaB Energy is TaB's spring towards the now.

TaB Energy Cons

1) It tastes like it is made from equal parts rancid cough syrup and death.
2) People like Nicole Ritchie, Paris Hilton and Jessica Simpson are drinking it. Enough said--next thing you know TaB Energy will starring in its own reality TV show, or recording its debut album.
3) It's TaB does Red Bull--it is only a matter of time before TaB Energy has K Fed's baby.

no room at the inn

I have a beef to pick with you, San Diego....

All I want is a hotel room to stay in, and you are not being very helpful. I'm putting in a prayer to Saint Diego.

Also, Internet forms, curse you!

I know this is quite a bit of anger for the first day on the blog, but all I can say is, why are you being mean, fair city?

Good Walk Spoiled

Wildlife they claim to have seen on the golf course:
  • alligator (multiple sightings)
  • crocodile
  • bear
  • fox unsucessfully chasing rabbit
  • deer (multiple)

The conversation that started it all.

ver33onica: she wanted to hear the alligator story
ver33onica: you know, when I was in a canoe and there were alligators
ver33onica: not alligators in a canoe
missingbuffalo59: hee. alligators in a canoe. paddling. wearing big ole sunhats
missingbuffalo59: with mosquito netting
missingbuffalo59: alligators on a fan boat
ver33onica: whirrrrrrr!
missingbuffalo59: zoooommmmmm!
ver33onica: alligators on a party barge
missingbuffalo59: that is so the name of our new blog