Sunday, September 25, 2005

hate falwell? get a blowjob

Me: http://www.religionisbullshit.org/falwell.htm
Me: i should just go perform oral favors for this guy
Danielle: lol
Danielle: i find it hard to believe that you haven't yet

Tuesday, September 20, 2005

cheese always makes me thirsty

Over the weekend my brother and I went up to Pymatuning for a Pitt Biology department retreat. Why? Free beer and canoes. Also, really amusing fish. And oh yeah, free beer.

It was a great time. We got to see our father sing some Johnny Cash song... and while I was not what you'd call "sober" while we watched that, I still think it's one of the funniest things I've ever seen.

The next morning (ok, it was more like noon) in the communal eating area (which is the only way to describe this room... "dining hall" does not suffice) I was watching this adorable little girl with blonde curls running around in a tie-dyed dress and stealing cheese from the platters.

Here is the key information in this little scene: this kid had a full head of hair, was running, speaking, and deciding for herself what she wanted to eat.

And then I saw her climb into her mother's lap and start breastfeeding. Yeah, that's right, as in sucking milk from her mother's body. She climbed into her lap, lifted up her shirt, and started sucking. And the mother acted as though this were perfectly normal, as though juice were not readily available right next to the cheese.

Breastfeeding in public is fine with me--but when the kid is big enough to lift up your shirt herself... well then, it's time to be cut off. If your brain is developed enough that you will probably remember the taste of breast milk for the rest of your life--no more for you.

What the fuck special serial-killer-training-manual version of Dr. Spock did this woman read, anyway??

Monday, September 12, 2005

an open letter to the hold message i listened to on a loop for over an hour

Dear Hold Message:

I'm so glad that you both understand that my time is valuable and appreciate my patience. But listening to this reassurance on a loop is what makes some peopel come into the office with loaded semiautomatics. Now, Hold Message, don't go calling my supervisor or anything like that. I know that these people around me are innocent... well, innocent of any Hold Message creation. But I can see why it'd drive some people--again, not me--to slaughter any living thing she saw.

It's not your cheery tone or the fact that you insist on playing what sounds like early U2 (albeit only seven seconds of a guitar solo from a familiar yet unnameable song). No, Hold Message. It's that you're lying to me.

It's that you like to go utterly silent for 13 seconds, leading me to check my phone for a connection problem.

It's that my break was supposed to start 47 minutes ago.

It's that you disconnected me earlier by transferring me to a busy signal.

It's that there is no alternate number, no working directory, no autoteller, and your website is as useful as tits on a bull.

I'd love to hang up on you. Violently. I'd love to slam this connection closed--but I know you don't mean it, Hold Message. I know that deep in your heart, my call is valuable to you, and that you are sorry--truly sorry!--for the delay. So I'll sit here and daydream and look for stray Gummi Bears in my desk drawers until my call is answered in the order in which it was received.

Thursday, September 08, 2005

the sound that makes me want to punch babies, chapter 2

She's always on the cutting edge of Annoying Shit.

This evening she disrupted the best part of the day--almost everyone is gone, including the Incredibly Loud Maintenance Assholes who are practicing for the Olympic Drop Heavy Shit team. Directly above me. I love being on the phone and wondering if we're being attacked by angry gorillas.

So during the few hours' peace, she decided that would be a great time to get on her cell phone and wander around, speaking loudly.

In Russian.

It's like she's trying to get a Nobel Prize for Annoying.

Monday, September 05, 2005

the reason you will never again see my face

Some guy just emailed me on OKCupid (possibly the worst dating site ever... it kept pairing me with Dungeons & Dragons players). This is, verbatim, what he wrote to me.

Will you hookup with me tomorrow night at my house for the promise of me making you snort a margarita through your nose while give you an orgasm and all at the same time.

Or in plain language. May I be one of your sex partners please??!! :p

His profile gives me no insight as to why he'd compose such a horrible message. All it says is that he's 27, male, (of course...) and lives a mere twelve miles from me. No picture. No profile. And yet he knows what I look like.

I fear that he will kidnap me in Giant Eagle some day. I'm going to have to start wearing a burqa.

Saturday, September 03, 2005

a new height in nasal-cavity humor

Scott: ...that's the worst. an itchy asshole at work
Scott: *squirming in chair*
Me: ...although an itchy asshole isn't quite as horrible as an itchy cooter at work.
Me: *limps frantically toward bathroom*
Me: "no, no really i'm fine, sometimes i just like to run like a gorilla..."
Scott: OMG
Scott: you almost made me shoot 7-and-7 out my nose... that's hard to do to me.
Scott: good job, princess!

A new high, ladies and gentlemen.