Archive for the ‘naps’ Category

IMAN is talking like a horse.

Tuesday, December 14th, 2010


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Tuesday, December 14th, 2010

I went to the Dominicks today. In the middle of the day. The guy in front of me in line for the check out had an entire cart filled with Arm & Hammer deodorants. An entire cart-full.

Being unemployed and totally available during the day is amazing.


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Thursday, October 21st, 2010

Let this be a lesson to all of you. If you open the fridge and see leftover Thai food in a bag and you didn’t go out for Thai food last night, nor did anyone you know or maybe don’t know, give you leftover Thai food to bring to work the next morning, then don’t pick up the leftover Thai food and eat it. Yes, put down the flipping Thai food. It’s not yours. I know it is delicious and maybe you only intended to have a taste, which as an aside, GROSS, I mean who samples other people’s lunches??!!! but let’s be real here, it is impossible to just have a taste of Thai food, especially if it’s wonderful #59, Pad Se Ew from Dao’s, which it was, and I know because I went to Dao’s last night and brought those delicious leftovers for lunch…..So, WHEN I find you, be forewarned…..YOUR BALLS ARE GOING IN A BLENDER.


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Wednesday, October 20th, 2010

Well, I woke up with a wicked injury to my right rear passenger side leg. I blame a particularly chatty ghost named Senior Apple lle

there was a lot of shouting “Remember me??” and a lot of quotes from what I could tell was that book, “Are you there God? It’s me Maragaret” because there is no other discernible reason for an outdated computer to be whining about wearing a training bra other than it was stuck on a repeat key….

So, this lump of wires and self-loathing spent the whole night sitting on my poor defenseless leg. And when I woke up, I was walking like a wobbly table-top, so not at all. And it hurt like a mother board….get it??? Ah, cut me some slack, Im stoned.

I put on a brave face, but I really couldn’t walk, which didn’t bug me too much, since the most I walk is from my bed to the food dish, but the real issue is that I couldn’t sit down, well, I could, but it took me a good goddamn hour to move my leg into a seated position. Boo.

So, I called my enemy, now friend, the Vet, who gave me a boatload of painkillers.

Hearts and stars, gang, hearts and mother fucking stars. The world is a far better place, now that I get one of these lovely little treats 2/x a day. Food tastes better, water tastes better, hell, even breathing tastes better. The ghosts are no longer as annoying as usual. I may even try to pay attention next time some Joe Schmo from beyond the grave reads me a poem. Good gravy, I love drugs.


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Thursday, October 14th, 2010

So, I had a long day. I made a batch of brownies, which let’s face it, aren’t gonna eat themselves. My DVR was full and I had to play a little catch-up. It is mentally taxing to try to keep all the characters in Gossip Girl straight. I mean, just who is the heck is this yokel in prison. And could it be true, is Vanessa being written off the show??  So, just imagine my exhaustion after a solid 4 hour block of Serena looking confused and Chuck trying to convince me that he’s actually interested in that boring tool shed from the old country…..But, of course, I was awakened by a 3 part harmony…..

“We are the Everly Brothers’ agents,” they said, in unison obviously, “and today is the anniversary of that beloved hit  Wake Up Little Suzy getting to the top of the charts”

“And guess what? The song is about doing it at the drive -in. What do you expect? It was 1957. Al Gore hadn’t invented the internet yet!”

And then they sang and danced.

Here are the lyrics

Wake up little Suzie, wake up
Wake up little Suzie, wake up

We've both been sound asleep
Wake up little Suzie and weep
The movie's over, it's four o'clock
And we're in trouble deep
Wake up little Suzie, wake up little Suzie

Well, what are we gonna tell your mama
What are we gonna tell your pa
What are we gonna tell our friends when they say ooh-la-la
Wake up little Suzie, wake up little Suzie

Well, I told your mama that you'd be in by ten
Well, Suzie baby, looks like we goofed again
Wake up little Suzie, wake up little Suzie
We gotta go home

Wake up little Suzie, wake up!
Wake up little Suzie, wake up!

The movie wasn't so hot
It didn't have much of a plot
We fell asleep, our goose is cooked
Our reputation is shot
Wake up little Suzie, wake up little Suzie

Well, what are we gonna tell your mama
What are we gonna tell your pa
What are we gonna tell our friends when they say ooh-la-la
Wake up little Suzie, wake up little Suzie
Wake up little Suzie

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Tuesday, October 12th, 2010

In honor of our founder Christopher Columbus, I  was able to finally pick up that nice, shiny moped I’ve had my eye on for weeks, ever since that little shit for brains jag-a-loon moved in across the street.

You’re mine now, bitch. So, stop your whining Jimmy or Timmy or whatever the crap your name is. In honor of Columbus, I claim this bike as mine. It’s part of my rich cultural heritage, so deal with it. Or move. Or stay. You literally cannot pay me to give a shit, but you can pay for some more nice stuff so I can take it.

Columbus, popularized the phrase “DIBS” when he landed on “the Indies” and when told that the land was not in fact  the Indies, as he believed, but rather the front lawn of some lovely folks who’d been living there long enough to set up a progressive potluck dinners, the kind so beloved by smarmy suburban ladies and ironic hipsters….but i digress, so when he found out it was not the land he thought, Columbus shouted, in true heroic fashion “DIBS, mother-fuckers’. Then he licked all the food, telling everyone, “You can’t eat it, I licked it”.

So, obviously, this num-nuts should be honored with a national holiday.

And that, my friends, is why this country is gonna be taken over by a revolution organized by a tin can. Viva la Revolucion.


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Tuesday, October 5th, 2010

Well, many of you have been sending in your questions. And, fair enough, life is confusing and there is nowhere to turn. Who you gonna ask? Your priest? Please, unless you’re 8, you’re gonna get the busy signal. Yahoo Answers is useless. Wikipedia is for turds….so I’m gonna help sort it all out for ya…..So, what exactly is the difference between a cicada and that idiot Buffalo Bill from the lovable family film, Shut up, Sheep?? Well, pay attention kiddies because there is gonna be some math involved….

One wants to get out of his own skin; the other wants to get you outta your skin.

One wants pizza. Little Cesear’s preferably, but will settle for Papa John’s so long as there is extra extra garlic sauce. The other wants to tuck his junk between his legs and make you put lotion in a basket.

So, remember kids….Let Cicadas live and fictional serial killers, well, live, I guess. So, until next time, good luck Keeping Up With the Kardashians……those ladies made a deal with the devil nobody can defeat.


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Monday, April 12th, 2010

There are times when I am happy to get up, well never truly happy, but there are instances of supreme human stupidity which justify a ghost’s need to wake me up to commiserate. This is just one such occasion. So for this nonsense, I poured myself out of bed…..and I was not disappointed. Appalled, yes. Disappointed, no.

Apparently, one Mr. Nicholas Sparks has been chatting himself up to whomever can stomach the inane ramblings of a madman, so I must assume that he has been talking only to brick walls, by the fact that he has not been fed to a pack of ravenous pigs (as per the movie Snatch, pigs will devour a human, bones and all….so mommies keep those  valuable little kiddies far away from the petting zoo or leave them unattended, depending on the how irritating the child is).

Among the brilliant anecdotes and nuggets of wisdom Nicky Sparks has imparted upon humanity, he had the absolute gall to not only act like he’s read a Hemingway novel, but to put himself and Hemingway in the same category. Apparently,  Sparky said the following in an interview A Farewell to Arms, by Hemingway. Good stuff. That’s what I write. That’s what I write.” ( Check out the whole thing, folks. It’s comic gold.)

WHAT WHAT WHAT WHAT WHAT WHAT WHAT WHAT??? Seriously, what the shit?

This nonsense makes Hemnigway’s  ghost cat army very displeased.  And an unhappy cat is an entertaining cat, what with all the devious scheming and secret killings. Enjoy. You’ll see why I didn’t mind so much being woken up.

Hemingway's Ghost Army of Cats

Cats are loyal and vindictive. And Hemingway, in addition to being a wildly talented writer, took excellent care of his cats. Watch your back, Sparks.

Pirate Cat in Hemingway's Ghost Army

Oh, and Sparks, you are on my list too.


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Monday, April 5th, 2010

Let me make something abundantly clear.  I like to nap. I need to nap.  Without a solid 22 hours of sleep a day, I become a salty dog.   Here’s a picture of me enjoying my nap.

Lately, I have been rudely awakened by ghosts.  This is how I look when I am awakened.

I am getting royally ticked off about this and although I am, by nature, lazy bordering on comatose, I have decided to take some action to combat these irritating ghosts. Hence, I have entered the blog-o-sphere. So, suck it ghosts. There’s gonna be two hits. Me hitting you. You hitting the floor. And I won’t rest, until I can actually rest, which means you are back in your graves or at least bothering someone else….and if you need some suggestions on who to haunt, I know a  real annoying son of a bitch who lives mere doors away from me……


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