Wednesday, May 30, 2007

Also, "bitch set me up"

How is it possible that the New York Times actually believes it’s stumbled on something new and earth-shattering with “The Devil Wears Prada” reason that horrible people working with other horrible people in a horrible place (the so-called fashion industry) want to kill each other?

“He needed killin’” has been considered a plausible defense in Texas for centuries.


Tuesday, May 29, 2007

Department Store of Horrors

Memorial Day weekend, and I decided to fullfill my duties as an American by indulging in a long trip to Consumertown, a.k.a. Tyson's Galleria.

Nearing the end of the five-hour spending fest, I entered a dressing room at one of the shopping center's anchor stores—the one with the ampersand in the center of the name—and proceeded to try on an item of clothing. Horrific horrors ensued whilst looking in the two-way mirror. "Holy crap, do I look like that? How are small children not nightmared by me?" were actual thoughts had.

The combination of an ultra-skinny mirror and a pallid greenish glow from the overhead fluorescent lighting created a faces of meth-like appearance, which was not at all how I generally picture myself, considering I've never regarded mixing Sudafed and Drano as a good way to stay up for 72 hours. Said mirror instantly dropped 20 pounds off my person, which I thought would be a welcome development, but viewing this result really made me want a sandwich. Or six sandwiches and a cheeseburger. It. Was. Awful. The lighting highlighted all the redness in my skin, every mole. And somehow the mirrors also screwed with my posture, making me both a hunchback, adorned with some ba donka donk.

Don't know how it happened, don't care. All I know is when I think of what I saw there, I feel an instant urge to hurl. All I can say is stay out of the dressing rooms there.

Tuesday, May 01, 2007

Nature is trying to kill me, yo.

We’re entering Week 5 of the Bailey, yo Allergy Death Watch here at AOAPB, where Nature tries to kill me with her wicked trees, flowers, flowering trees, grass, mold, mites, dander, dust, ozone, radio waves, clouds, and life in general.

Nature is pissed because I screamed at her a little a couple of months ago, when she startled me by landing on the terrace by my office window in the form of three raptors with red eyes. Nature-in-the-form-of-predatory-birds then proceeded to bludgeon their brunch-in-the-form-of-a-smaller-bird against the terrace railing, causing me to shriek in a most loud and girl-y fashion, that “Nature is outside! Nature is outside killing! Killing its lunch! Nature! Nature!” and frantically try to close the blinds to shield me from the horror.

See, I had no desire to interrupt Nature while she was dining. It’s just her table manners are disgusting.

At last tally, Nature has sent me to the doctor four times, for a total of six prescriptions. The currently approved morning cocktail now includes:
  • 1 shot Nasacort to protect the nasal passages
  • 1 Zyrtek in desperate attempt to shield my body from invaders
  • 2 Sudafed to relieve the pressure in my ears, which haven’t popped in four weeks. Also to help drain the ick from the sinuses.
  • 2 Robitussin Cough Tabs to disguise the hacking up of drained ick
  • 1 multi-vitamin because nothing else is working
  • 2 prophylactic Excedrin Migraine tablets
Also, three courses of antibiotics to clear up the nasty lil infections of ears, tonsils, and sinuses where Nature has managed to penetrate my defenses.

This shit’s gotten out of hand, y’all. So I hereby offer my profound apologies to Nature for interrupting her lunchtime repast a few months back. It was my lack of sophistication that led to such a gauche response, and I humbly beg your pardon.

Now can we dial back the freaking particulate matter content? You’re killing me here.