Wednesday, November 29, 2006


I was just checking out a tourist site for planning my holiday trip to Puerto Rico (despite what you may think, I'm not mentioning that to make anyone jealous. It's just set up.) The site's headers were the typical ones: Geography, History, Economy, People. Clicking through to the one labeled "People" was this.Question that came to mind: Why no pictures of actual Puerto Ricans?

Are they hiding behind the flowers and hummingbirds?

Couldn't they get someone to sign a photo release?

Como esta mi Gente? (Whazzup, mah bitchez?)

Random Headline Amuses, Girl Laughs

Every once in awhile I see a headline I just love. This is one of them:

Sea Lion Chases Swimmers, Bites 14 of Them

I don't know exactly what it is about this headline, but it is freakin' hilarious. I am sure that was a terrifying experience for all 14 of the injured swimmers. I have never experienced being chased by a sea lion, but I assume it is pretty scary. I've irritated sea monkeys, but I bet you can't even compare that to this situation. I think I just like the frankness of this headline, and it makes me wonder what other crazy happenings we Party Bargers talk about that could be summed up just so:

Boys Clear 'Giant' Store of Doritos Supply, Grandma Pissed

Man Suspected of Lunacy Struck by Croissant, Assailant Runs

Young Professional Woman Pushed Over the Edge by "DayQuil" Suggestion, Cuts People

The list could go on and on, and I hope it does because, Hee!, It's enjoyable to write about messed up things in a way that makes them sound funny. That and throwing croissants in order to gage someone's mental stability...

And I'm not even a believer

As we're all aware, my middle-aged husband has had a mid-life crisis and left me. Whatever. (In the 5 Stages of Grief I've moved through denial to anger--bargaining is next. I can hardly wait. I bet it involves a lawyer.)

Anyhow, I've been reading the Express on the Metro on the way to work, as is my usual routine. I read the whole paper--every word--so that I can drag it out to last my entire morning commute. That includes the horoscopes. Now, I'm a pretty practical person, and I don't believe in horoscopes. Usually I am amused to see how vague they are, and how I could actually fit into almost any of the signs on a daily basis. The last three days, though, the write-up for my sign has been eerily aimed at me:
Monday: Don't spend any money. (I'm paraphrasing because I don't still have my copy of the Express, but that's the gist of it.)
Tuesday: As you retrace your steps, you'll find that everything will work out for the best. (Again, I don't have the real paper.)
Today: ..."you must first settle an ever-mounting conflict with a friend or loved one." Direct quote.
So while I'm an unbeliever, I think I might just start skipping the horoscope for now. I'll start reading again when someone tells me that it says I'm going to meet a tall, handsome stranger and live happily ever after.

Oh, wait! Here's his for today: "Something you've been planning for some time may seem rather unpromising..." That makes me feel better. Maybe for the near future I'll skip my sign and read his, just in case the universe wants to slap him down again.

Tuesday, November 28, 2006

Nacho Cheesier! Like Way Cheesier.

When carrying out one of my several-times weekly urban shopping trips (this time for milk, rotisserie chicken and bananas), I encountered three college-age guys, raiding an end-of-aisle Doritos display. At first, I thought the Giant was running a special on the chips, causing a frenzy among frat boys everywhere. Upon closer exam, it was even more bizzaro.

The boys were midway through loading their third shopping cart, and one of the bunch of guys promptly ran to the front to get another. The two other carts were overflowing with bags of Doritos, in what appeared to be three flavors (versions? tastes? whatdoyoucallit?) All of them were laughing hysterically and causing quite a spectacle among other shoppers (it was a Monday and just after 5:00 p.m. too, so the store was packed).

Also present in one cart was a single package of a no-bake cheescake. Dying with curiousity about that.

In line, they were still getting strange looks from many of the patrons, though some—being seemingly long-time urbanites—pretended not to notice, for that would indicate that they were flappable by a somewhat extraordinary occurance. I guess that's what you get, after many years ignoring people doing strange things on the Metro. Anyway, these urbanites seemed to be incredibly focused on the latest headlines on the tabs, probably thinking "THANK GOD Tom and Katie got married so I have something to focus on!" An older lady behind me in line took one look at the four Dorito-ed carts, grunted and appeared incredibly irritated ... actually OFFENDED ... by them. HOW DARE THEY BUY ALL THE CHIPS AND STAND IN LINE?!!! I don't get it either.

Regarding my reaction: I, however, tried to appear amused, but not overly surprised, in case this happened to be a Candid Camera experience. That's one of my greatest fears, being mortified on TV by that show.

Resumed my shopping and happened to end up in the line next to these fellas, which let me listen in on some of the conversations:

One said to the other that because they technically only have one item, perhaps they should hit the express 12-items-or-less line. Thankfully he was joking. I think the older lady would have ran them through with her own cart.

When discussing how much this could possibly cost, they bantered around about $100, $200, with an estimate as high as $400. Payment was also approached, with a decision to split it between several cards. One kiddo said that he's a bit concerned because the bill goes to his mother, but his friend—what a guy!—reassured his friend that it would say "Giant" on the bill, not 300 bags of Doritos purchased at Giant. Luckily for all of them, the chips ended up being two-for-one.

When discussing how to carry these away, one of the crew kept asking "How are we going to get these home?!" Apparently they had one mondo-sized duffel and a few backpacks, but they were taking the Metro. So a challenge was ahead.

Finally, someone asked them what they were planning on doing with all the Doritos. The answer: "It's a long story, but we're making a commercial."

So after all that, I was finally able to figure out why.

I hope, for all their effort, they win!

So what you're really saying is that you don't want us there at all

Owing to something of a personal crisis, I was not at my best yesterday. Slapped on some Chapstick, made sure my sweater didn't smell too bad, and twisted my hair up in a ponytail.

However, I thought I'd successfully pulled myself together for an all-day meeting and eliminated most signs of my distress.

Until this morning when a co-worker offered me his Dayquil, saying it always cleared his colds right up.

Ah, sweet humiliation. You come in SO MANY different flavors.

Tuesday, November 21, 2006


Veronica, yo, shouldn't feel bad about not catching "L33t" AIM-speak.

Hell, I just found out about "im in ur" cats today.

P.S. I have known about Stuff On My Cat for a couple of years, however.

Wednesday, November 15, 2006

How You Know You're Officially Old

When someone sends you a email containing the term "l33t skils," which causes a complete meltdown (my head done spun around, like, seriously), followed by errant Googling (yes, Google has even reached those of us born before 1980), and a perusal through Urban Dictionary.


The other thing that clued me into my apparent aged-ness is when I shouted from my office "What the Hell is l33t?!" and 22 year old in the cube instantly replies "elite." Y'all, that one's going to take over the world! So smart with da Internets. I'm going to go assign him some more work so he won't have time to put together his World Domination Action Plan. Gots to slow him down some.

Monday, November 13, 2006

Retrospect Brings Hilarity

... at least for me. But, then again, I'm mean.

If only irony could always be this easy.

Friday, November 10, 2006

MEMO to People Who Stink*

To: Whomever Patchoulied up the Elevator AND B.O. Guy on the Metro

If you insist on wearing a perfume fragrance that smells like dirt, please do not immediately enter an enclosed space, such as an elevator, immediately after application. Take the stairs instead or wait awhile, until the cloud of hippie spray disperses.

Amazingly, you were even no longer present in said elevator; you may even had disembarked long ago. But the evidence of you being there still remained. Is it a cry for recognition you seek? A desire for a lasting legacy? For there are other ways to gain such.

There's even ways to achieve a legacy will be held in high regard. For instance, why don't you try a tea rose? What a pleasant smell. The elevator riders after you will be transported in spirit to an English garden, where they dine on crumpets and cucumber finger sandwiches, whilst twirling their parasols. 'Tis lovely.

Instead, with the patchouli wearing, your fellow riders are relegated to checking the bottom of their shoes, wondering who was the culprit who stepped in something. Think about it. Do you really want to be THAT girl?

Finally, guy on the Metro with the B.O.: I know you can't do anything about it. I get it. You're athletic. But please don't sit next to anyone until you've showered.

* Not directed at you, Mr. Vice President Cheney. Stop being so sensitive. Also, don't shoot me.

Thursday, November 09, 2006

Bro-KEN up?!!!

Guess who's back on the market?!
Barbie was recently spotted partying with friends on the Barbie Hot Tub Party Bus™ without Ken, just hours after filing for divorce from the former male fashion doll, pictured here without his wedding ring--or his left arm for that matter. On the divorce papers filed
in LA (see below) the doll claimed "irreconcilable differences."

Appropriate for Ages 3-9?

We don’t get into a lot of political or social issues here on the party barge because, well, what would be the fun in that?

However, occasionally we must break our self-imposed code of silence to point out examples of asshattedness that have invaded our bubble. To wit: the Barbie Hot Tub Party Bus™.

Now, we’re not taking exception with the obvious thievery of our “Party INSERT VEHICLE HERE” moniker. Imitation is the most sincere form of flattery and all. What’s got us all het up is the awkward melding of hot-tub-as-soft-core-porn-confessional and what is ostensibly a toy RV. Throw in Barbie, the controversy lightning rod that she is, and you’ve got the perfect bit of pop culture flotsam that gits our dander all up.

Veronica, yo first spotted the Barbie Hot Tub Party Bus™ on a shopping binge with her young nieces. She double-took in the toy aisle, called her sister over to confirm what she was seeing, and made the only logical conclusion possible: this toy was obviously designed by a man.

It’s well known on the party barge that I am the most militant when it comes to devising elaborate conspiracy theories about women’s subtle, yet crippling oppression under a white, male patriarchy. But none of us like to find ourselves on the same side as “won’t someone think of the children” conservative wingnuts and feminazis. And dammit, that’s exactly where the Barbie Hot Tub Party Bus has™ unwittingly steered our party barge.

So, in conclusion, the Barbie Hot Tub Party Bus™ has severely harshed our buzz. We’re as pissed about that as we are about the very existence of the Barbie Hot Tub Party Bus™.

Of course, there are probably some of you out there that think that Barbie, Midge, and DeeDee should have a place to host their bachelorette parties or star in their own episodes of Elimidate or whatever.

But please, do think of Skipper and the influence her older sister surely has on her. For all we need is a Skipper rebellion, where she takes her 14-year-old self on a meth binge, steals the party bus, and gets it on in a threesome with her sister’s much older boyfriend Ken and former surfer boyfriend Blaine in the aforementioned hot tub. We just can’t let this kind of thing happen.

Wednesday, November 08, 2006


Guess who's back on the market?!

At ease, Condi -- you already got the State Dept. to do your dirty work.

To commemorate the offloading of one of the Bush Administration's homeslices, pour a little liquor on the ground and recall your favorite Rumsfeld quote in the comments. To wit:

"I would not say that the future is necessarily less predictable than the past. I think the past was not predictable when it started."

Amen, brutha.

Tuesday, November 07, 2006


Guess who's back on the market?!

Step off, Paris Hilton -- I done seen him first!