A Butterburger Blindside!
6 years ago
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Party entertainer-Rick Roll'd
Party entertainer- Rick roll (Upper East Side)
Date: 2009-09-19, 6:57PM EDT
Reply to: gigs-ehzye-1382852574@craigslist.org [Errors when replying to ads?]
HELLO!
I am having a birthday party for my 7 year old son and would like to hire someone to "Rickroll" the party.
I envision you hiding somewhere in my home until we start singing happy birthday, at which point you could jump out and start singing "never gonna give you up".
I will provide a boom box and microphone, so long as you can provide the appropriate costume. I can also provide a printed copy of the lyrics, though Ideally ou would be very familiar with them already.
additionally, I would hope that the ideal candidate would be very familiar with the concept of "Rick rolling". However, if you go to YouTube or google and type in "Rick roll" you'll find what I'm talking about.
My son is a HUGE Rick Astley fan so this is very important to us. Please, serious candidates only.
I cannot provide payment but can offer you an assortmet of homemade canned goods.
GREAT RESUME BUILDER!!!!
*please be advised-we have cats, in case you have an allergy this my present a problem.
Please send me your credentials for this position. I look forward to hearing from you!!!!!! God bless!!!!
Leslie
- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
- Compensation: $1USD
*CURRENT STATUS-NO RESPONSES
Duck Bucket
Duck bucket (Greenwich Village)
Date: 2009-09-15, 12:48AM EDT
Reply to: sale-qnhcw-1375059581@craigslist.org [Errors when replying to ads?]
Looking for duck bucket. Must hold 10-12 ducks. Will pay $1 USD for each duck bucket holds. Serious inquiries only. Duck bucket must be in good working condition and must be clean of previous duck feathers.
God bless!!!
Leslie
__________________________________________________________________
__________________________________________________________________
Responses:
Hi there,
I saw your want ad on Craigslist. I think I have found what you were looking for.
Find details at http://greatcollectibles.us/
I hope this helps you in your search!
Regards,
Baese
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hi Baese,
Thank you for your help. I am actually looking for a bucket that will hold ducks (like the poultry). I have received other emails offering to sell me similar items as well as the KFC Jumbo Chicken buckets, which is not what I am in need of. Do you have any suggestiongs on how I could clarify my posting? Thank you for you help and God Bless!!!!
*STATUS: NO RESPONSE
The Second Coming
THE SECOND COMING - $1 (Central Mass)
Date: 2009-09-14, 11:04AM EDT
Reply to: sale-kktch-1373670220@craigslist.org [Errors when replying to ads?]
LOOKING FOR: SECOND COMING!!!!!!
DO YOU BELIEVE YOU ARE THE SECOND COMING OF JESUS CHRIST???????????
MUST HAVE PROOF OF SECOND COMING (I.E. BIBLICAL REFERENCES). AM VERY SERIOUS.
AM LOOKING FOR SOMEONE WHO BELIEVES THEY ARE THE SECOND COMING TO COME TO MY HOME TO MEET MY FAMILY AND TEACH US. CANNOT AFFORD TO PAY BUT AM WILLING TO COOK YOU A MEAL AS PAYMENT-WILL COOK ANYTHING YOU LIKE!
ALSO, BE ADVISED, WE HAVE 3 CATS (IF YOU HAVE A CAT ALLERGY WE CAN MEET SOMEWHERE ELSE BESIDES MY HOME)
LOOKING FORWARD TO MEETING YOU. GOD BLESS!!!!!!!!!
LESLIE
____________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________________
Responses:
Hello Leslie!
I am undoubtedly the second coming of Jesus Christ, the son of God. I am in constant communication with the Lord.
This summer, i walked on water in both the Atlantic and Pacific oceans. The only reason that I attempted this was because I died of a sudden and unexplained heart-attack on Good Friday this year, only to be revived a short time later... I was unconscious in the hospital until Easter Sunday.
Since then, I have been receiving communications from my Father on an almost constant basis.
I am determined to spread the Good Word. Many may think that I am crazy, but they have no faith.
God Bless,
Kurt Miller
Second Coming of Christ
----------------------------------------------------
Leslie, there is no second coming! Anyone that would tell you otherwise is pulling more than your leg. If direction is what you seek, I will help, but I’ll not try to hoodwink you into thinking what’s fantasy. I’m joe, a strong honest guy with lots of dreams.
----------------------------------------------------
In the scriptures, in the account where Jesus is taken up to heaven, the
account says that he was caught away in the clouds. If he was caught away by
clouds then they could no longer see him. Then the Angel that appeared to
the on-lookers told them that Jesus would return in the same manner. He
would not be visible at his second coming. The word can be translated
presence. It would be an invisible presence.
So, I know I am not the second coming of Christ, but I do know that I can
show you, from the bible, that the second coming has already occurred. He is
present now. Not on the earth as a person, but in a spiritual way, he is
present right now. This of course in in preparation for Armageddon.
Are you interested in seeing the proof of this? If so, I'll Email you the
proof from God's word the bible.
----------------------------------------------------
Are you looking for someone that believes THEY are the 2nd coming of Jesus or are you just looking to learn what the Bible says about it?
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Friday, July 24, 2009
legit craig's list post
Hasings a Wanting: Varg Doll
Here is foodpeeple
Has wants of these here mans:
A ONE Varg doll from the Burzum. BUT and here and exclusive to here is CATCH: must have approvings for the from Varg himselfed.Tragedy happen: last Varg doll purchse?//? MOUNTAIN DUDE BOTTLE EXTRAED WITH DOGHAIRED STAPLED ONAND ALSO THIS VARGHEAD TAPE ON IT!11!!
Serioused reply to thanks
thanksed to you mans
- foodpeeple
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Monday, July 20, 2009
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Bad Manors Squirrel Diner
"Here are some of our favorite archived photos from past days, and, as the page says, "NONE of the photos have been edited -- these are all wild squirrels interacting with weird stuff." -neatorama.com
Monday, June 15, 2009
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
kind of sweet, mostly weird
C: did i ever tell u how i used to get really emotionally attached to balloons?
L: WHAT?! BALLOOONS???
L: WHAT?!?!
C: yeah hahahahha. like as a kid, i would get really attached when i was given a balloon. and i would tote it around with me everywher ein the house and tie it to my bed post and pet it
L: oh i was alwasy soooo sad when they died or flew away. it was painful!
C: I would get really upset when it deflated and died
L: i actually hated getting balloons b/c i knew they didn't last
C: i remember waking up in the middle of the night and see it dancing around and it would make me so happy
L: they'd hang around my room for MONTHS b/c i couldn't bear to get rid of them
L: WHAT?! BALLOOONS???
L: WHAT?!?!
C: yeah hahahahha. like as a kid, i would get really attached when i was given a balloon. and i would tote it around with me everywher ein the house and tie it to my bed post and pet it
L: oh i was alwasy soooo sad when they died or flew away. it was painful!
C: I would get really upset when it deflated and died
L: i actually hated getting balloons b/c i knew they didn't last
C: i remember waking up in the middle of the night and see it dancing around and it would make me so happy
L: they'd hang around my room for MONTHS b/c i couldn't bear to get rid of them
Monday, May 4, 2009
Boat Shoes and Renal Failure
Fun Dad Time:
Called the house, and my Dad immediately asks me if I've ever had renal failure because there's a great kidney failure lawyer in NYC that I could go to. I tell him that while i've never suffered from renal failure, it is common in cats. To which he responds, "Like anal sacks! Dogs are to anal sacks, as Cats are to renal failure." He then proceeded to try to sell me his old pair of Sperry Topsiders, slightly used, said that if I put them up to my ear I can hear the ocean. He called it "Mike's Sperry seashell shack." I'm so glad were share the same genes.
Called the house, and my Dad immediately asks me if I've ever had renal failure because there's a great kidney failure lawyer in NYC that I could go to. I tell him that while i've never suffered from renal failure, it is common in cats. To which he responds, "Like anal sacks! Dogs are to anal sacks, as Cats are to renal failure." He then proceeded to try to sell me his old pair of Sperry Topsiders, slightly used, said that if I put them up to my ear I can hear the ocean. He called it "Mike's Sperry seashell shack." I'm so glad were share the same genes.
Friday, May 1, 2009
The Story of Pinky
Throughout my childhood, my parents always begrudgingly acquiesced me and my brother's pleas for pets. Though they were openly disgusted by our menagerie, I caught them more than once cooing to our pigmy goats asleep in their dog house, or giving our cocker spaniel chicken and rice after spewing diarrhea throughout the living room. And though we've all exhibited some degree of affection toward most of our animals, more than one of our beloved pets has met a bizarre, untimely death. Though these stories were tragic, they've been told at countless parties, family gatherings, school functions and meetings. One of the crowd favorites is the story of Pinky. Pinky was an overactive orange hamster acquired from our neighbors who, for reasons unbeknownst to us decided to give up the hamster. We had him for an epic 4 years before he died, clawing desperately across his wood chip enclosure, expiring in a position generally saved for zombie movies. That evening my dad placed Pinky in a shoe box filled with a bed of woodchips, placed the box in a white trash bag, and marked the bag with “Pinky” and a cross, as to not confuse the box with something edible or disposable. He placed Pinky in the garage, which would later become affectionately known as the Animal Mausoleum. As it was January in Massachusetts, and the ground long since frozen, burying Pinky would have to wait until the spring.
Winter came and went, as did the Spring, Summer and Fall, until we found ourselves, a year later, with Pinky still in the garage. After realizing our mistake, my dad assured us, Pinky would be buried in the Spring. And again, the seasons came and went, and again, we were housing a dead animal for yet another winter. This pattern continued until, when I was 12, Pinky rose from the woodchips. It was the fall of that year, and we were holding an end-of-the-season soccer party for my team, complete with screaming 12-year-old girls and pizza. At this point, Pinky had become something of an urban legend, and my best friend Gina suggested that we have a celebratory resurrection of Pinky. My Dad agreed and a pack of girls followed him down to the garage, trailed by my mother, camera ready to capture any Kodak moment that could potentially arise from such a grotesque occasion. Dad put on his work gloves, and began to remove the marked, white trash bag, now a little musty and dusty, and revealed the shoebox. The girls shuddered and a few squealed at the decaying corner of the box, leaking woodchips, and my Dad slowly pealed away the lid of the box. He rustled in the woodchips a few tense moments, until revealing Pinky, dangling from his stubby tail between my Dad’s thumb and forefinger, perfectly preserved in his riga mortis state. Only he had deflated to no wider than a book of matches, and I can’t help but to compare his condition to that of those vacuum-sealed plastic bags you use to store your favorite Christmas sweaters from Grandma. Gina stepped forward and pet Pinky’s head which, yes, thanks to my mother, we still have photographic evidence of.
Fast forward now to the summer I was 16, and my brother 13. My Dad’s brother Bobby and his wife were visiting from Ohio for the weekend. Of course this led to a few too many Gin and Tonics and suddenly, Dad and Bobby had hatched a brilliant plan. Using the leftover rocket firework from the fourth of July, they planned to give Pinky the respectable send off he so deserved. Using the sandbox as a launching pad, my dad and uncle prepared to strap Pinky to the rocket and launch him into the woods behind the house. Suddenly, my aunt, feeling a wave of guilt, or sobriety, became seriously concerned that launching our dead pet on a rocket might “scar” us, as if the use of his flattened corpse for dinner party spectacle hadn’t scarred us already? Despite giving our blessing to give Pinky his rightful send off, the project lost momentum, and Pinky returned to the animal mausoleum.
Years later, Pinky’s saga continued, during my sophomore year at the Rhode Island School of Design. I had been struggling all semester with an illustration professor with whom I constantly butted heads. There was just no way he and I were going to see eye to eye on anything, and I made it my personal mission to use my assignments as ways to piss him off, even at the expense of actually following the assignment. One of our assignments was to present an object to the class that evoked, fear, disgust or feelings of love to the viewer. I of course took it upon myself to come up with the most foul object possible. After discarding a few ideas that ended in my potential imprisonment, I gave my parents a call and asked if Pinky could come on a field trip. The next morning, my Dad dropped off the dusty white bag and a pair of work gloves on his way to a meeting. That afternoon in studio, everyone placed their objects on a table in the front of the room. Fearing my amorphous blob of trash bag and rotting shoe box might give away it’s contents, I opted to place a hamster ball on the table as the decoy object. The professor quickly chose the hamster ball in order to ridicule it, to which I quickly came to the front of the room to announce my REAL object. Dressed in a vomitously saccharin outfit, complete with polka dot rain boots and a pink tulle skirt, I placed the bag on the table and put on the work gloves. I slowly untied the knot in the trash bag and removed the box. A sense of general discomfort overtook the class as I revealed the rotting box, but I gave no cause for real fear or disgust, as my demeanor spoke only of sweetness. I removed the lid and, just as my father had years before, rustled around the woodchips until revealing Pinky, his tail held between my thumb and forefinger. Most people gasped, a few left the room all together, my good friend Jenn howled with laughter, and my professor, still holding the hamster ball, turned an unhealthy shade of grey. Though I explained that the hamster was my object, he continued to babble on nervously about the hamster ball and how it was a clever way of evoking both fear and love. I didn’t follow his logic, but then again, I doubt he did either. He quickly moved on to the next object on the table, though Pinky became infamous throughout campus. Later that year, in a rush to move out of the campus dorms, Pinky was sadly left behind in the apartment. It’s interesting, that after realizing my mistake, and knowing he was gone for good, I ironically felt a greater sense of loss then, than I did after he died, as did my parents who were subsequently charged $250 for “trash removal” from the residence life office.
Winter came and went, as did the Spring, Summer and Fall, until we found ourselves, a year later, with Pinky still in the garage. After realizing our mistake, my dad assured us, Pinky would be buried in the Spring. And again, the seasons came and went, and again, we were housing a dead animal for yet another winter. This pattern continued until, when I was 12, Pinky rose from the woodchips. It was the fall of that year, and we were holding an end-of-the-season soccer party for my team, complete with screaming 12-year-old girls and pizza. At this point, Pinky had become something of an urban legend, and my best friend Gina suggested that we have a celebratory resurrection of Pinky. My Dad agreed and a pack of girls followed him down to the garage, trailed by my mother, camera ready to capture any Kodak moment that could potentially arise from such a grotesque occasion. Dad put on his work gloves, and began to remove the marked, white trash bag, now a little musty and dusty, and revealed the shoebox. The girls shuddered and a few squealed at the decaying corner of the box, leaking woodchips, and my Dad slowly pealed away the lid of the box. He rustled in the woodchips a few tense moments, until revealing Pinky, dangling from his stubby tail between my Dad’s thumb and forefinger, perfectly preserved in his riga mortis state. Only he had deflated to no wider than a book of matches, and I can’t help but to compare his condition to that of those vacuum-sealed plastic bags you use to store your favorite Christmas sweaters from Grandma. Gina stepped forward and pet Pinky’s head which, yes, thanks to my mother, we still have photographic evidence of.
Fast forward now to the summer I was 16, and my brother 13. My Dad’s brother Bobby and his wife were visiting from Ohio for the weekend. Of course this led to a few too many Gin and Tonics and suddenly, Dad and Bobby had hatched a brilliant plan. Using the leftover rocket firework from the fourth of July, they planned to give Pinky the respectable send off he so deserved. Using the sandbox as a launching pad, my dad and uncle prepared to strap Pinky to the rocket and launch him into the woods behind the house. Suddenly, my aunt, feeling a wave of guilt, or sobriety, became seriously concerned that launching our dead pet on a rocket might “scar” us, as if the use of his flattened corpse for dinner party spectacle hadn’t scarred us already? Despite giving our blessing to give Pinky his rightful send off, the project lost momentum, and Pinky returned to the animal mausoleum.
Years later, Pinky’s saga continued, during my sophomore year at the Rhode Island School of Design. I had been struggling all semester with an illustration professor with whom I constantly butted heads. There was just no way he and I were going to see eye to eye on anything, and I made it my personal mission to use my assignments as ways to piss him off, even at the expense of actually following the assignment. One of our assignments was to present an object to the class that evoked, fear, disgust or feelings of love to the viewer. I of course took it upon myself to come up with the most foul object possible. After discarding a few ideas that ended in my potential imprisonment, I gave my parents a call and asked if Pinky could come on a field trip. The next morning, my Dad dropped off the dusty white bag and a pair of work gloves on his way to a meeting. That afternoon in studio, everyone placed their objects on a table in the front of the room. Fearing my amorphous blob of trash bag and rotting shoe box might give away it’s contents, I opted to place a hamster ball on the table as the decoy object. The professor quickly chose the hamster ball in order to ridicule it, to which I quickly came to the front of the room to announce my REAL object. Dressed in a vomitously saccharin outfit, complete with polka dot rain boots and a pink tulle skirt, I placed the bag on the table and put on the work gloves. I slowly untied the knot in the trash bag and removed the box. A sense of general discomfort overtook the class as I revealed the rotting box, but I gave no cause for real fear or disgust, as my demeanor spoke only of sweetness. I removed the lid and, just as my father had years before, rustled around the woodchips until revealing Pinky, his tail held between my thumb and forefinger. Most people gasped, a few left the room all together, my good friend Jenn howled with laughter, and my professor, still holding the hamster ball, turned an unhealthy shade of grey. Though I explained that the hamster was my object, he continued to babble on nervously about the hamster ball and how it was a clever way of evoking both fear and love. I didn’t follow his logic, but then again, I doubt he did either. He quickly moved on to the next object on the table, though Pinky became infamous throughout campus. Later that year, in a rush to move out of the campus dorms, Pinky was sadly left behind in the apartment. It’s interesting, that after realizing my mistake, and knowing he was gone for good, I ironically felt a greater sense of loss then, than I did after he died, as did my parents who were subsequently charged $250 for “trash removal” from the residence life office.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
BOYCOT ZIPCAR!!!!
i used zipcar for the first time this weekend and it was a FUCKING NIGHTMARE people.........i'd rent a bike before renting from them again......
here's my bitchy letter about why they suck ballz:
"this past weekend i had my first reservation with zipcar and was extremely disappointed. i had made my initial reservation to take out the minicooper mcfall from the W3 st. garage in Manhattan about 3 weeks prior. I carried my luggage from my office after work to the garage where i waited until exactly 6:30 (when my reservation began) to take out the car, at which point the garage attendant laughed at me when i told them what car i was taking out. They told me the car had had a flat tire for OVER A WEEK and that despite the fact that zipcar had been notified of the problem numerous times, NO ONE had come out to fix the vehicle. As I'm sure you can imagine, I was rather furious that not only had the car been broken for over a week and zipcar failed to take responsibility for the vehicle, I can't BELIEVE I wasn't notified in ADVANCE that the car wasn't going to be available. i was taking the car out to drive 4 hours to massachusetts, and after a full day of work and finding out that the car was not available, I was feeling as though renting from zipcar was a serious mistake. The last thing I needed was to delay my long drive any further.
I immediately called the zipcar customer service, and after waiting on hold for about 10-15 minutes, was finally was able to speak with a customer service representative. While the woman was pleasant and was able to get me an alternative vehicle, the vehicle was NOT in the same garage as the mini cooper, but in a garage TWO MILES SOUTH of where I was. Finding the new car in lower manhattan was an ordeal in and of itself. the directions to the garage (2 gold street, on pearl street, between platt st. and maiden lane.....??????? it actually turned out to be on West 13th st...) were damn near impossible to figure out, and after dragging my luggage in the 80 degree heat to FOUR DIFFERENT GARAGES, i finally found some decent directions and found the garage around 7:30. I had paid for a reservation beginning at 6:30 and after speaking with the zipcar rep it was nearly 7pm, and about 7:30-7:45 when i was FINALLY on the road. I asked the zipcar rep if the company would compensate me at all for the time i lost waiting to talk to the representative, and also for the 45 minutes it took me to get the the location of the alternate vehicle. I was offered only to have my reservation moved to 7pm for that friday night and was given an additional 30 MINUTES on the end of my reservation. Frankly, I think zipcar should be embarrassed that all they could offer me after such incredible inconvenience was a "free" hour of service, which works out to $13...
when dropping off the car today at Imperial Garage, the attendant was incredibly rude and i pretty much left the car in the middle of the garage because i wanted to be done with this experience so badly, and because the attendant was too busy talking on the phone to his friend to do his job. While I realize that zipcar does not employ the garage attendants where the cars are parked, I think zipcar should take into consideration that these are the people who the public is dealing with. They have the ability to start off the customers relationship with zipcar very positively, or very negatively.
personally, i expected to be offered a refund, or at the very least my bill to be seriously comped after dealing with such disorganized, irresponsible behavior by zipcar. i would like to think that my experience was an isolated incident and that zipcar is a reliable company, but I am EXTREMELY hesitant to use this service again after my experience. I've recounted my story to friends and family this past weekend, and also through my Twitter page and blog, because I would hate for anyone I know to have that same experience. Luckily the delay I had didn't effect my plans TOO much, however, had the circumstances under which i was renting the car been different, it could have been much worse.
I hope to hear back soon from someone at zipcar, because I would like to be able to have another experience with zipcar that is more positive, but at this point, i can't see myself or my friends and family making a future reservation. I hope that in the future, zipcar is more punctual about their car maintenance, and is more considerate of their customers time. Thank you."
here's my bitchy letter about why they suck ballz:
"this past weekend i had my first reservation with zipcar and was extremely disappointed. i had made my initial reservation to take out the minicooper mcfall from the W3 st. garage in Manhattan about 3 weeks prior. I carried my luggage from my office after work to the garage where i waited until exactly 6:30 (when my reservation began) to take out the car, at which point the garage attendant laughed at me when i told them what car i was taking out. They told me the car had had a flat tire for OVER A WEEK and that despite the fact that zipcar had been notified of the problem numerous times, NO ONE had come out to fix the vehicle. As I'm sure you can imagine, I was rather furious that not only had the car been broken for over a week and zipcar failed to take responsibility for the vehicle, I can't BELIEVE I wasn't notified in ADVANCE that the car wasn't going to be available. i was taking the car out to drive 4 hours to massachusetts, and after a full day of work and finding out that the car was not available, I was feeling as though renting from zipcar was a serious mistake. The last thing I needed was to delay my long drive any further.
I immediately called the zipcar customer service, and after waiting on hold for about 10-15 minutes, was finally was able to speak with a customer service representative. While the woman was pleasant and was able to get me an alternative vehicle, the vehicle was NOT in the same garage as the mini cooper, but in a garage TWO MILES SOUTH of where I was. Finding the new car in lower manhattan was an ordeal in and of itself. the directions to the garage (2 gold street, on pearl street, between platt st. and maiden lane.....??????? it actually turned out to be on West 13th st...) were damn near impossible to figure out, and after dragging my luggage in the 80 degree heat to FOUR DIFFERENT GARAGES, i finally found some decent directions and found the garage around 7:30. I had paid for a reservation beginning at 6:30 and after speaking with the zipcar rep it was nearly 7pm, and about 7:30-7:45 when i was FINALLY on the road. I asked the zipcar rep if the company would compensate me at all for the time i lost waiting to talk to the representative, and also for the 45 minutes it took me to get the the location of the alternate vehicle. I was offered only to have my reservation moved to 7pm for that friday night and was given an additional 30 MINUTES on the end of my reservation. Frankly, I think zipcar should be embarrassed that all they could offer me after such incredible inconvenience was a "free" hour of service, which works out to $13...
when dropping off the car today at Imperial Garage, the attendant was incredibly rude and i pretty much left the car in the middle of the garage because i wanted to be done with this experience so badly, and because the attendant was too busy talking on the phone to his friend to do his job. While I realize that zipcar does not employ the garage attendants where the cars are parked, I think zipcar should take into consideration that these are the people who the public is dealing with. They have the ability to start off the customers relationship with zipcar very positively, or very negatively.
personally, i expected to be offered a refund, or at the very least my bill to be seriously comped after dealing with such disorganized, irresponsible behavior by zipcar. i would like to think that my experience was an isolated incident and that zipcar is a reliable company, but I am EXTREMELY hesitant to use this service again after my experience. I've recounted my story to friends and family this past weekend, and also through my Twitter page and blog, because I would hate for anyone I know to have that same experience. Luckily the delay I had didn't effect my plans TOO much, however, had the circumstances under which i was renting the car been different, it could have been much worse.
I hope to hear back soon from someone at zipcar, because I would like to be able to have another experience with zipcar that is more positive, but at this point, i can't see myself or my friends and family making a future reservation. I hope that in the future, zipcar is more punctual about their car maintenance, and is more considerate of their customers time. Thank you."
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
fiascos of easters past
my mum, dad and brother are coming in a few weeks for easter, and my friend brian's going to come over and have easter with us since i'm making brunch for the fam and he's ot going home. He's been a family friend for ever so i think it'll be a lot of fun seeing as whenmy brother mikey and brian get together, hilarity generally ensues. My dad also really likes brian and lieks to make fun of him so i can see it being a hilarious easter
for some reason, our easters always end up being the funniest holidays. Here are the top 5 easter events:
1. one year me and my brother mikey went around our town stealing election signs for this guy my mum really hated and gave them to her for easater and we gave my dad a street sign and a real estate sign we stole from a gold course. but then my dad made us dump them in the woods so we wouldnt' get it trouble
2. one year we got my dad windshield washer fluid and a bunch of early 90's cassette tapes.
3. at my uncle larry's for easter brunch a few years ago, my uncle jeff had a giant spool of wire in his truck and me and my uncle bobby had a "wire-off", which ended with wire replicas of every family member of our family covered in blood (ketchup we still from larry's fridge).
4. my brother and i each received a set of golf clubs and a suitcase for easter when we were about 12 and 9.
5. last easter my 7 year old cousin was paid $1 by his dad to torment my brother's girlfriend by talking to her about clowns and how penguins eat each other.
ham, wire, and street signs; my kinda easter.
for some reason, our easters always end up being the funniest holidays. Here are the top 5 easter events:
1. one year me and my brother mikey went around our town stealing election signs for this guy my mum really hated and gave them to her for easater and we gave my dad a street sign and a real estate sign we stole from a gold course. but then my dad made us dump them in the woods so we wouldnt' get it trouble
2. one year we got my dad windshield washer fluid and a bunch of early 90's cassette tapes.
3. at my uncle larry's for easter brunch a few years ago, my uncle jeff had a giant spool of wire in his truck and me and my uncle bobby had a "wire-off", which ended with wire replicas of every family member of our family covered in blood (ketchup we still from larry's fridge).
4. my brother and i each received a set of golf clubs and a suitcase for easter when we were about 12 and 9.
5. last easter my 7 year old cousin was paid $1 by his dad to torment my brother's girlfriend by talking to her about clowns and how penguins eat each other.
ham, wire, and street signs; my kinda easter.
Monday, March 30, 2009
dark roasted blend and starving artists guide podcast!
hey check out my interview with NYC's Starving Artist's Guide! They were linked today on Dark Roasted blend.
check out the write up about me and my podcast with SAG here:
http://starvingartistsguide.com/
and SAG on Dark Roasted Blend here:
http://www.darkroastedblend.com/
check out the write up about me and my podcast with SAG here:
http://starvingartistsguide.com/
and SAG on Dark Roasted Blend here:
http://www.darkroastedblend.com/
subway wisdom
I boarded the N train last sunday afternoon with a blinding headache and an epic hangover. i was hoping to have a quiet ride, but this is never the case. After a few brief moments of solitude, a person (for lack of a better term) sat down next to me with their friend. He, or She, unclear, began engaging in conversation with the hispanic girl across from us about the young kids in our car playing music. "oh HONEY, those Nenes, they gonna be famoso, they gonna be on American Idol, yo se, i KNOW it. they so good." they said in Spanglish to the terrified looking female sitting across the way who was the target of his impromptu diatribe.
let me pause here and describe what this person was wearing. Though they clearly appeared to be a man, and made no effort to conceal or disguise their deep voice (this was the confusing part), they were wearing skin tight acid washed jeans, new balance sneakers, a leather jacket, a wig, hoop earrings big enough to jump your acrobatic, trick poodles through.
the conversation progressed and some how came to involve myself. He told me that he liked my nail polish but, in fact, liked his own a lot more. he liked his because it had the "bits that make my fingers look like pearls. You know, also, in the summer, i got out too brooklyn, and they do my nails up all nice you know? the do this thing where they make my finger nails like, spirals or some shit. yeah, they're like 4 inches long and they're spirals and they drill out holes in the middle and put little jewels in them. you know, little jewels and stuff? it costs me like, a thousand bucks but honey i tell you it's worth it. It is. It's worth it. I also go to these people to get my eyebrows waxed off, see, because my eyebrows our tattooed on"
He then points to various parts of his tattooed face telling me how much each cost, "this eyebrow was $100, the other was also $100, the eyeliner on my right eye was $50 and the eyeliner on my other eye was also $50."
and then, my favorite part of the conversation, "yeah you know i go and get my eyebrows waxed and then i have them do my whole face too and then you know i go and get my whole body done, you know, they have like 3, sometimes 4 really nice asian women and they all get in there, working at the same time to wax my body. They do a great job, they do."
as disturbed as i was by this mental image, i have to say, he was overall a lovely individual and I did enjoy his company.
let me pause here and describe what this person was wearing. Though they clearly appeared to be a man, and made no effort to conceal or disguise their deep voice (this was the confusing part), they were wearing skin tight acid washed jeans, new balance sneakers, a leather jacket, a wig, hoop earrings big enough to jump your acrobatic, trick poodles through.
the conversation progressed and some how came to involve myself. He told me that he liked my nail polish but, in fact, liked his own a lot more. he liked his because it had the "bits that make my fingers look like pearls. You know, also, in the summer, i got out too brooklyn, and they do my nails up all nice you know? the do this thing where they make my finger nails like, spirals or some shit. yeah, they're like 4 inches long and they're spirals and they drill out holes in the middle and put little jewels in them. you know, little jewels and stuff? it costs me like, a thousand bucks but honey i tell you it's worth it. It is. It's worth it. I also go to these people to get my eyebrows waxed off, see, because my eyebrows our tattooed on"
He then points to various parts of his tattooed face telling me how much each cost, "this eyebrow was $100, the other was also $100, the eyeliner on my right eye was $50 and the eyeliner on my other eye was also $50."
and then, my favorite part of the conversation, "yeah you know i go and get my eyebrows waxed and then i have them do my whole face too and then you know i go and get my whole body done, you know, they have like 3, sometimes 4 really nice asian women and they all get in there, working at the same time to wax my body. They do a great job, they do."
as disturbed as i was by this mental image, i have to say, he was overall a lovely individual and I did enjoy his company.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
ipuppy
i recently bought the "ipuppy" app for my iphone, which is basically my own electronic puppy. it's disgusting, i know. clearly this application was fabricated by some japanese company, who thought it would be too much trouble to run their terminology by any of their english speaking friends. they also do seem to have a real good grasp on what would be a good "prize" for the dog. when you take it on walks, it periodically finds things. here's a few things my puppy has "picked up" along the way:
-a "puppy magazine" accompanied by an image of an antique book
-an Ugg boot. just one.
-a transformer toy
-a really creepy rag doll
-a green VW beetle model
-dog diapers
-a used blackberry
-a used polariod camera that i'm told i can sell however the game offers no option to sell the objects you find on your walk.
-a "puppy magazine" accompanied by an image of an antique book
-an Ugg boot. just one.
-a transformer toy
-a really creepy rag doll
-a green VW beetle model
-dog diapers
-a used blackberry
-a used polariod camera that i'm told i can sell however the game offers no option to sell the objects you find on your walk.
stop, it's hatchet time.
on a monday night after work i was transferring at columbus circle to the 1 train. as usual, people are crammed into the cars, so close that i can count the number of hairs sticking out of my neighbors amorphous facial mole. and, as usual, the train, is still sitting on the track with the doors open. after a bout 3 or so minutes still waiting, i see hundreds of people running from the front two train cars. however, this was no normal exodus of the train, this was a panicked, screaming, mob running for the exit. they weren't just running out of the car, they ran OUT of the subway, through the turnstiles.
This mass exodus of course erupted mass panic in my car, and a woman behind me, in a blinding hysteria starts screaming and pushing through everyone screaming "GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY WAY". at this point, I have no idea what's going on but I know for damn sure that if there IS something going on, i want no part of it. I'm not about to die on a good god damn subway. so I stand out on the platform with a few others who have also chosen not to perish on the local 1 train.
after a few minutes, mass hysteria seems to settle down and something tells me it's safe to get back on the subway car. as I do, another girl gets on behind me, and cavalierly begins telling everyone, "yeah, i was in the first car. this guy thought someone pushed him so he pulled out a hatchet and started swinging it at people. he didn't hit anyone though. he had pretty bad aim. police already caught him". most people exclaimed a horrified, disturbed gasp, but I, of course, lean out of the car and sure enough, there is the dude, pinned against the wall by two people officers, with the hatchet lying at his feet.
this was my first day of work. i was concerned. things have since improved.
This mass exodus of course erupted mass panic in my car, and a woman behind me, in a blinding hysteria starts screaming and pushing through everyone screaming "GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY WAY". at this point, I have no idea what's going on but I know for damn sure that if there IS something going on, i want no part of it. I'm not about to die on a good god damn subway. so I stand out on the platform with a few others who have also chosen not to perish on the local 1 train.
after a few minutes, mass hysteria seems to settle down and something tells me it's safe to get back on the subway car. as I do, another girl gets on behind me, and cavalierly begins telling everyone, "yeah, i was in the first car. this guy thought someone pushed him so he pulled out a hatchet and started swinging it at people. he didn't hit anyone though. he had pretty bad aim. police already caught him". most people exclaimed a horrified, disturbed gasp, but I, of course, lean out of the car and sure enough, there is the dude, pinned against the wall by two people officers, with the hatchet lying at his feet.
this was my first day of work. i was concerned. things have since improved.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
cat sex
there have been cats, having sex on my porch...frequently. this usually occurs in the 4-430am area, and sounds something like a new born baby being skinned alive. my guess is that they've been attracted to the porch by rick's (the homeless man- see post "my name's rick") piss drenched belongings on the porch. I'm not sure if cats are attracted to human urine, but if they are, that's my explanation. Apparently this is a common problem on brooklyn porches, as one of my friends in brooklyn, upon hearing this story excitedly said he experienced the same thing, and then commenced to make a dead-on impersonation of cat sex audio.
lunch break
over the past few weeks i've had some strange run ins and overheard some bizarre convos in the soho area. last week i witnessed two perfect strangers argue in duane reade about who cut who in line, keep in mind these people were in at least their late 50's, early 60's. the result was that the man accused had not actually cut in line, and then took his story to the streets, telling his side to whoever would listen outside of duane reade.
Today was a particularly bizarre day. First, i passed two women standing outside of Michael Kors, and the only thing I heard of their convo was "...giving them blow jobs and fucking all their other girlfriends." second convo i passed was a woman who appeared to be 11 months pregnant and her husband/boyfriend/sperm donor observing a woman struggling to carry a baby carriage up a flight of stairs. the pregnant woman gestured to the struggling woman and commented "see, this is what i'm not so sure about"......yeah, you better get sure about it...b/c when you're hauling your post pregnancy fat ass up a flight of stairs with a baby carriage, people are just gonna watch you struggle too....
Today was a particularly bizarre day. First, i passed two women standing outside of Michael Kors, and the only thing I heard of their convo was "...giving them blow jobs and fucking all their other girlfriends." second convo i passed was a woman who appeared to be 11 months pregnant and her husband/boyfriend/sperm donor observing a woman struggling to carry a baby carriage up a flight of stairs. the pregnant woman gestured to the struggling woman and commented "see, this is what i'm not so sure about"......yeah, you better get sure about it...b/c when you're hauling your post pregnancy fat ass up a flight of stairs with a baby carriage, people are just gonna watch you struggle too....
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
the D train
people of the D train:
how is it that listening to techno music at 8:30am doesn't make you vomit blood? and why do you have to listen to it so loudly that I also have the displeasure of suffering your sweet techno beats? who are these people that need to feel like they're in a sweaty club on their way to work. If nothing else, doesn't it make you depressed that you're not actually going to a club, but most likely heading to cubicle hell, surrounded by office neutrals and printer errors for the next 9 hours?
how is it that listening to techno music at 8:30am doesn't make you vomit blood? and why do you have to listen to it so loudly that I also have the displeasure of suffering your sweet techno beats? who are these people that need to feel like they're in a sweaty club on their way to work. If nothing else, doesn't it make you depressed that you're not actually going to a club, but most likely heading to cubicle hell, surrounded by office neutrals and printer errors for the next 9 hours?
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Saturday, February 28, 2009
My name's Rick
So I figure it's about time I blogged about Rick. Rick is the homeless man who lives on my front porch. It began with a cooler,a red cooler that appeared on my front porch. This was apparently acting as his suitcase. The first time I encountered rick was on a Tuesday morning around 10am. He was screaming "Jesus Christopher Jesus Christopher, I hate my life", and moaning. He was also running back and forth between the porch and the rectory of the church.
Two days later I left my house and there was rick, with who else but my drug addict upstairs neighbor, because of course, rick is his friend and this is why he's here. I come out on to the porch and rick says to me "hey, I'm rick, you'll probably see me around a lot! " and of course I'm thinking "the fuck I won't!" but clearly the man is crazy and as I have no desire to start a war with the homeless man on my porch, I just smiled and walked away, as matt (my upstairs neighbor) gave me his usual salutation "be safe!". Is that a threat? Who says that?
We haven't quite decided how to deal with rick just yet, but foe the time being he seems
Pretty harmless....
Two days later I left my house and there was rick, with who else but my drug addict upstairs neighbor, because of course, rick is his friend and this is why he's here. I come out on to the porch and rick says to me "hey, I'm rick, you'll probably see me around a lot! " and of course I'm thinking "the fuck I won't!" but clearly the man is crazy and as I have no desire to start a war with the homeless man on my porch, I just smiled and walked away, as matt (my upstairs neighbor) gave me his usual salutation "be safe!". Is that a threat? Who says that?
We haven't quite decided how to deal with rick just yet, but foe the time being he seems
Pretty harmless....
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
My Father the Hero
I just talked to my dad on the phone, who told me about how he channeled Jack Bauer today. While walking a property in Washington DC, him and his team came across a door they couldn't open. my dad, after watching last night's bad ass episode of 24 and feeling especially Jack Bauer-ish, told his team to "step aside", as he proceeded to KICK the door in. after successfully kicking in the door, their response was "you watch too much tv." My Dad is totally my hero.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
to do list
here some of things i've done over the past few days while waiting to hear back from potential employers:
1. researched selling my eggs- because i don't mind having hundreds of my bastard children running around, so long as they don't ask me for money.
2. signed up for clinical testing/ clinical research trials-they actually pay pretty well, and if i'm willing to take drugs NOT approved by the FDA, i could make bank.
3. changed my birthday on facebook to the current day, while simultaneously having a status that says "Laura loves fake birthdays"- it's really amazing. try it.
4. watched all 3 seasons of Arrested Development and felt a genuine sense of loss after watching the last episode.
5. investigated double sided tape.
6. watched every single daytime court room drama NYC tv has to offer.
7. watched the "Black College Trivia Bowl" on tv-yes, it's exactly what it sounds like.
1. researched selling my eggs- because i don't mind having hundreds of my bastard children running around, so long as they don't ask me for money.
2. signed up for clinical testing/ clinical research trials-they actually pay pretty well, and if i'm willing to take drugs NOT approved by the FDA, i could make bank.
3. changed my birthday on facebook to the current day, while simultaneously having a status that says "Laura loves fake birthdays"- it's really amazing. try it.
4. watched all 3 seasons of Arrested Development and felt a genuine sense of loss after watching the last episode.
5. investigated double sided tape.
6. watched every single daytime court room drama NYC tv has to offer.
7. watched the "Black College Trivia Bowl" on tv-yes, it's exactly what it sounds like.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
not my apartment
since moving to brooklyn, i've been spending a lot of time at Davia's apartment. Since I have my own set of keys, i generally break in in the afternoon and watch Ellen. Last time I came over and did her grocery shopping and dishes. I've recently taken to recording my shows and coming over to watch them during the day, i love Tivo.
today I came over around 2 and ended up staying till, well, now which is 9:15.
we attempted to make a cake earlier this evening, and after mixing the cake together (b/c it obviously took two of us to do), and preparing to pour it into the pan, davia dropped the entire bowl of mix on the kitchen floor. which we proceeded to photograph. pics TK.
today I came over around 2 and ended up staying till, well, now which is 9:15.
we attempted to make a cake earlier this evening, and after mixing the cake together (b/c it obviously took two of us to do), and preparing to pour it into the pan, davia dropped the entire bowl of mix on the kitchen floor. which we proceeded to photograph. pics TK.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
flight of the air hog
it's 11pm and my roommate decides it's time to fly the air hog. Despite sounds like a subtle term for masturbation, it's actually a remote control airplane of sorts that he received for xmas. after charging her up, we took her to the church parking lot for the inaugural flight of the air hog.
it was, less than majestic we'll say. it's flight patterns seemed to resemble an object caught in a tornado, and i was beginning to wonder if "air hog" was some sick reference to what it might actually look like "when pigs fly".
after about 5 minutes we had to recharge the bacon plane, at which point my other roommate took the opportunity to religiously relieved himself in the darkened corner of the church parking lot (i like these kinds of people), we were at it again. this time it lasted 2 minutes and managed to fly directly into my head about three times.
it was, less than majestic we'll say. it's flight patterns seemed to resemble an object caught in a tornado, and i was beginning to wonder if "air hog" was some sick reference to what it might actually look like "when pigs fly".
after about 5 minutes we had to recharge the bacon plane, at which point my other roommate took the opportunity to religiously relieved himself in the darkened corner of the church parking lot (i like these kinds of people), we were at it again. this time it lasted 2 minutes and managed to fly directly into my head about three times.
bitches britches and belly bands
here are some fun things i find when i'm home all day:
BITCHES BRITCHES:
"a menstrual garment for dogs of all sizes, this comfortable hygienic garment serves also as a great protector against
unplanned matings."
amazon.com/Extra-Large-Bitches-Britches-Black/dp/B0006N9DMW
BELLY BANDS:
"I recieved my first two belly bands...What a wonderful product...well made, Barkley is COMFORTABLE with it, and i wish i'd
had it long ago...the band definitely passes the 'wash and dry' test."
bellybands.net
currently, i'm listening to my roommates talk about "boob touch".
BITCHES BRITCHES:
"a menstrual garment for dogs of all sizes, this comfortable hygienic garment serves also as a great protector against
unplanned matings."
amazon.com/Extra-Large-Bitches-Britches-Black/dp/B0006N9DMW
BELLY BANDS:
"I recieved my first two belly bands...What a wonderful product...well made, Barkley is COMFORTABLE with it, and i wish i'd
had it long ago...the band definitely passes the 'wash and dry' test."
bellybands.net
currently, i'm listening to my roommates talk about "boob touch".
it is hard to write on bread
i am currently blow drying a loaf of bread. and spray adhesive-ing a bag of potato chips to a piece of cardboard.
i think i'm starting to lose my mind, seeing as i spend about 10 trillion hours by myself everyday. i've recently taken an interest in testing the United States Postal Service to see just what i can get sent through the mail. While at RISD i managed to get a plastic rat, yarn sandwiched between a 5" x5" piece of clear plastic tape, and a roll of toilet paper, just to name a few.
above would be pictured what the lucky recipients will be receiving, but blogger is being a bitch.
you would be seeing: a half loaf of bread, with the exposed inside part painted white with gesso (where the blow dryer comes in) and on the white is written "IT IS HARD TO WRITE ON BREAD".
the potato chip bag is flattened and says "I EXPECT THIS TO BE DISPLAYED PROMINENTLY IN YOUR HOME OR OFFICE."
i think i'm starting to lose my mind, seeing as i spend about 10 trillion hours by myself everyday. i've recently taken an interest in testing the United States Postal Service to see just what i can get sent through the mail. While at RISD i managed to get a plastic rat, yarn sandwiched between a 5" x5" piece of clear plastic tape, and a roll of toilet paper, just to name a few.
above would be pictured what the lucky recipients will be receiving, but blogger is being a bitch.
you would be seeing: a half loaf of bread, with the exposed inside part painted white with gesso (where the blow dryer comes in) and on the white is written "IT IS HARD TO WRITE ON BREAD".
the potato chip bag is flattened and says "I EXPECT THIS TO BE DISPLAYED PROMINENTLY IN YOUR HOME OR OFFICE."
Monday, January 12, 2009
upstairs neighbors
the dude above me is definitely a 30 year old drug addict who lives with his mother. because his bedroom is directly above mine, and since i'm at home most of the day, i have the pleasure of enjoying the "3 o'clock Mariah Carey Hour". what is that you ask? No, it's not a japanese game show, this is what the dude decides to BLAST at 3pm everyday. Well, to be fair, it's generally a mix of Mariah Carey, Beyonce, and an occasional rap song.
needless to say, i sit in the kitchen from 3-4pm everyday to avoid vomiting blood.
he is currently taking a miniature bike off the porch and strapping a basketball to it.
needless to say, i sit in the kitchen from 3-4pm everyday to avoid vomiting blood.
he is currently taking a miniature bike off the porch and strapping a basketball to it.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
little boys and urinals
this is a conversation that just occurred between myself and danielle:
"danielle: ok i am gonna ask you a really strange question
do you have any experience with little boys and urinals?
me: no. not at all. nor do i have any desire to."
then she signed off gchat. i have no fucking idea why she was asking me this, however i'm concerned for her.
"danielle: ok i am gonna ask you a really strange question
do you have any experience with little boys and urinals?
me: no. not at all. nor do i have any desire to."
then she signed off gchat. i have no fucking idea why she was asking me this, however i'm concerned for her.
the R train 1
i figure i'm going to have a million posts about both the subway an the R train since that's what i'm on. yesterday was a GREAT ride on the R.
rush hour, 8:30 am, the train is PACKED, and ofcourse, there is a homeless dude with about 40 fucking million plastic bags taking up a third of the car. i can't say that the homelessness or the smell were at all shocking, however, his smell far exceeded the offensiveness of any other homeless man i'd ever had the displeasure of smelling. he literally smelled, like a horses ass. like, seriously, it smelled like the motherfucker had slept in a pile of horse shit left by the carriages around central park.
and as if smelling like horse shit wasn't intrusive enough to those of us on the train, he started asking for food. but not just ANY food. he specifically requested a CHEESE sandwich.
"oh here smelly homeless man! i in fact always carry a bag fully stocked with cheese sandwiches! this one i made specially for you!"
not that i don't think he wouldn't have accepted anything anyone gave him to eat, it's just that he seemed to only posses the verbal skills or the mental capacity to request "a cheese sandwich".
needless to say, no one had a cheese sandwich for captain horse shit.
rush hour, 8:30 am, the train is PACKED, and ofcourse, there is a homeless dude with about 40 fucking million plastic bags taking up a third of the car. i can't say that the homelessness or the smell were at all shocking, however, his smell far exceeded the offensiveness of any other homeless man i'd ever had the displeasure of smelling. he literally smelled, like a horses ass. like, seriously, it smelled like the motherfucker had slept in a pile of horse shit left by the carriages around central park.
and as if smelling like horse shit wasn't intrusive enough to those of us on the train, he started asking for food. but not just ANY food. he specifically requested a CHEESE sandwich.
"oh here smelly homeless man! i in fact always carry a bag fully stocked with cheese sandwiches! this one i made specially for you!"
not that i don't think he wouldn't have accepted anything anyone gave him to eat, it's just that he seemed to only posses the verbal skills or the mental capacity to request "a cheese sandwich".
needless to say, no one had a cheese sandwich for captain horse shit.
this could only happen to me 1
if something totally fucked up and bizarre is going to occur, it's going to happen to me. i seem to have a magnetic force field that draws weird shit to me. and, true to form, about 5 days after getting to Brooklyn, i had my first "occurrence".
thursday afternoon i get a frantic call from my mum, telling me that CVS had just called her to tell her that a NYC office building had called them and said they had one of MY prescription bottles. wtf???? my mum said they had left their number with cvs and that i should call them. so i call this mystery office building, which turns out to be Bayside Urology in brooklyn (don't worry, the prescription in question was unrelated to the urologist, my urinary tract is just fine thanks). though the office was in brooklyn, they were in fact, almost two miles away, in an area i had NEVER been to....again....wtf???
so i call and ask about the prescription, which turned out to be a full bottle of my prozac, filled just a few days before.
on monday, my mum had sent me a package, with my prescription i had forgotten at home, and my favorite yoga pants. the date on the prescription bottle at the urologist matched the same date of the bottle my mum had sent me.......
the package my mum had sent me, had apparently been stolen en route to my apartment. someone had torn up the package, STOLEN the YOGA PANTS and LEFT the PRESCRIPTION medication, because clearly yoga pants have a MUCH higher street value than prozac.
but like for realz, wtf, who else would that ever happen to but me? no one. definitely no one.
sadly, i had to purchase new yoga pants, which are a satisfactory replacement. but nothing will truly replace my love for my lost yoga pants. rip, grey yoga pants. you will be missed.
thursday afternoon i get a frantic call from my mum, telling me that CVS had just called her to tell her that a NYC office building had called them and said they had one of MY prescription bottles. wtf???? my mum said they had left their number with cvs and that i should call them. so i call this mystery office building, which turns out to be Bayside Urology in brooklyn (don't worry, the prescription in question was unrelated to the urologist, my urinary tract is just fine thanks). though the office was in brooklyn, they were in fact, almost two miles away, in an area i had NEVER been to....again....wtf???
so i call and ask about the prescription, which turned out to be a full bottle of my prozac, filled just a few days before.
on monday, my mum had sent me a package, with my prescription i had forgotten at home, and my favorite yoga pants. the date on the prescription bottle at the urologist matched the same date of the bottle my mum had sent me.......
the package my mum had sent me, had apparently been stolen en route to my apartment. someone had torn up the package, STOLEN the YOGA PANTS and LEFT the PRESCRIPTION medication, because clearly yoga pants have a MUCH higher street value than prozac.
but like for realz, wtf, who else would that ever happen to but me? no one. definitely no one.
sadly, i had to purchase new yoga pants, which are a satisfactory replacement. but nothing will truly replace my love for my lost yoga pants. rip, grey yoga pants. you will be missed.
back to blogging
ok, i figure now that i've relocated to NYC, i should start blogging again, seeing as i'm running into ridiculous things on a daily basis that i feel compelled to share with you all. i'll use the next few posts to cover the last couple days. here goes:
so my parents helped me move-in, which of course was nothing short of hysterical. after a long day of moving in all my shit, we decided to hang out in my kitchen and eat dinner. mum and i played scrabble while dad watch football. i was texting davia, when my dad asked who i was talking to. when i told him davia, here was his response:
"oh. well tell her to get her ass out here. and tell her to bring some brie!"
now, allow me to clarify something. my dad is not a brie man. in fact, i can't say for certain that he's ever had brie. he's more of cheddar cheese with a sleeve of saltines kind of man.
needless to say, i texted that to davia, who responded with "my ass is too lazy to come out to brooklyn. i don't think i can get off the couch"
to which my dad demanded i respond:
"KEEP YOUR LAZY ASS ON THE COUCH. WE AIN'T GOIN' ANYWHERE EITHER. But can you send the brie in a taxi?"
davia's response of "Anything for you Papa Dubs" left him giggling to himself for the rest of the night.
so my parents helped me move-in, which of course was nothing short of hysterical. after a long day of moving in all my shit, we decided to hang out in my kitchen and eat dinner. mum and i played scrabble while dad watch football. i was texting davia, when my dad asked who i was talking to. when i told him davia, here was his response:
"oh. well tell her to get her ass out here. and tell her to bring some brie!"
now, allow me to clarify something. my dad is not a brie man. in fact, i can't say for certain that he's ever had brie. he's more of cheddar cheese with a sleeve of saltines kind of man.
needless to say, i texted that to davia, who responded with "my ass is too lazy to come out to brooklyn. i don't think i can get off the couch"
to which my dad demanded i respond:
"KEEP YOUR LAZY ASS ON THE COUCH. WE AIN'T GOIN' ANYWHERE EITHER. But can you send the brie in a taxi?"
davia's response of "Anything for you Papa Dubs" left him giggling to himself for the rest of the night.
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