Friday, November 4, 2011
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Make it a betta place...
I record voiceovers for the software programs we produce at work. We have a make-shift recording "studio" (read: supply closet) that rests adjacent to the office next door's conference room. Sometimes they can get loud in there when they are having a large conference call, but usually, my mic does not pick up the sound and I just ignore it an continue. Today was different.
They were having a particularly raucus conference call. It sounded like there were maybe 20 people in the room, and 2-3 on speakerphone. Laughing, clapping, and generally being as loud as possible. All of the sudden, the strangest scene unfolded before my ears. It sounded like the people on the phone had started to sing a song. I couldn't make out the song, but it sounded very familiar to me. Before I knew it, the whole room had joined in. It sounded like a bad church choir. Then it hit me, "are they singing 'Heal the World'?" Yes. Yes, they were.
I thought they would like settle down, and that they were just singing part of it to be funny. Nope. I counted, 1st verse, chorus, 2nd verse...by the time they got to the bridge I thought, my God, they're going to sing the whole thing!
The best was that sometime after the bridge, someone in the room tried to end it by pre-maturely applauding. This action only caused the singers on the phone to get louder! They even did the key change and fancy ending!!! When the song adjourned, applause ensued, and the call ended.
W
T
F
?
Like, for real. WTF was that? I'm totally speechless.
They were having a particularly raucus conference call. It sounded like there were maybe 20 people in the room, and 2-3 on speakerphone. Laughing, clapping, and generally being as loud as possible. All of the sudden, the strangest scene unfolded before my ears. It sounded like the people on the phone had started to sing a song. I couldn't make out the song, but it sounded very familiar to me. Before I knew it, the whole room had joined in. It sounded like a bad church choir. Then it hit me, "are they singing 'Heal the World'?" Yes. Yes, they were.
I thought they would like settle down, and that they were just singing part of it to be funny. Nope. I counted, 1st verse, chorus, 2nd verse...by the time they got to the bridge I thought, my God, they're going to sing the whole thing!
The best was that sometime after the bridge, someone in the room tried to end it by pre-maturely applauding. This action only caused the singers on the phone to get louder! They even did the key change and fancy ending!!! When the song adjourned, applause ensued, and the call ended.
W
T
F
?
Like, for real. WTF was that? I'm totally speechless.
Friday, April 3, 2009
"I just had a wasabi accident"
Today is a rainy, thundery Friday, so we decided to put in an order for sushi delivery here at work. This was the best sushi I've had in a while, like from God's personal sushi stash. The rice was fluffy, the avacodo was fresh, and the wasabi was POTENT. Here is an exchange between me and TheCoworker:
Me: ok I just had a wasabi accident
Me: my eyelids are sweating
Me: I ate like the whole wasabi ball Me: haha
TheCoworker: ahahaha
TheCoworker: sorry
TheCoworker: that first sentence made me laugh!
Me: ahaha
TheCoworker: are you ok?
Me: yeah
Me: it was a fleeting problem, luckily
TheCoworker: i'm having a mini-accident myself with every piece
Me: a big chunk stuck to my ginger
Me: uh oh just had another accident
Me: this one is bad
Me: I think I have a nose bleed!
Me: ok and we're back
TheCoworker: ahaha
TheCoworker: i imagine you passing out momentarily and then coming back
TheCoworker: ahahaha
Me: yeah that’s kinda what happened
Me: the whole world was wasabi green for a brief period in time
Me: btw I'll give you a dollar if you can figure out a creative way to sneak "a big chunk stuck to my ginger" into a meeting here
BTW...I think my fortune cookie just insulted me. My fortune was "Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow you may diet." I MAY diet, or I SHOULD diet? Be real with me, cookie!
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
This is why I'm fat, this is why I'm fat, this is why, this is why, this is why I'm fat...
This website
http://thisiswhyyourefat.com/
...is the single greatest site on the internet ever. Basically, the site lists the most disgustingly fatty foods that anyone could possibly come up with. For example, bacon donuts: glazed donuts topped with crumbly bits of greasy bacon love. O. M . G. Also, french fry wrapped hot dog on a stick, which is exactly what it sounds like. Someone took a corn dog, but replaced the fried cornbread with french fries, just to ensure a nice myocardial infarction. This site is making fun of all the weird disgusting fatty foods that people have created; however, I want to eat all of it. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm a fairly slender girl, but I haven't always been. I'm a big ole bacon-loving fatty at heart. I have Weight Watchers, and a family history of heart failure that scared me into submission to thank for being slender. I've got a lot of will power, but a part of me always lusts for the extra fatty, sweet, and greasy.
Some examples of my inner lard-lover:
-The first time I heard the word "pilates," I thought it was a dessert. I totally wanted some chocolate-covered, cream-filled pilates.
-I can't think of the word "Swedish" and not automatically follow it up with "fish." I just can't.
-I can eat a fat sandwich from Rutgers, whole, in the time it takes for a normal person to finish half of their's and wince in pain, unable to continue.
-I've never saved any of my candy for the movie. Ever. Sometimes it doesn't even make it through the first preview.
-Each time of year can be placed into a "candy season" category for me. Like, right now is conversation heart season, which is second only to jellybean season (but just edging out candy cane season, which is tied with candy corn season).
And so on.
So, you get the idea. "This is why you're fat" is a blogroll that speaks to me. Mmmmm, blogroll.
http://thisiswhyyourefat.com/
...is the single greatest site on the internet ever. Basically, the site lists the most disgustingly fatty foods that anyone could possibly come up with. For example, bacon donuts: glazed donuts topped with crumbly bits of greasy bacon love. O. M . G. Also, french fry wrapped hot dog on a stick, which is exactly what it sounds like. Someone took a corn dog, but replaced the fried cornbread with french fries, just to ensure a nice myocardial infarction. This site is making fun of all the weird disgusting fatty foods that people have created; however, I want to eat all of it. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm a fairly slender girl, but I haven't always been. I'm a big ole bacon-loving fatty at heart. I have Weight Watchers, and a family history of heart failure that scared me into submission to thank for being slender. I've got a lot of will power, but a part of me always lusts for the extra fatty, sweet, and greasy.
Some examples of my inner lard-lover:
-The first time I heard the word "pilates," I thought it was a dessert. I totally wanted some chocolate-covered, cream-filled pilates.
-I can't think of the word "Swedish" and not automatically follow it up with "fish." I just can't.
-I can eat a fat sandwich from Rutgers, whole, in the time it takes for a normal person to finish half of their's and wince in pain, unable to continue.
-I've never saved any of my candy for the movie. Ever. Sometimes it doesn't even make it through the first preview.
-Each time of year can be placed into a "candy season" category for me. Like, right now is conversation heart season, which is second only to jellybean season (but just edging out candy cane season, which is tied with candy corn season).
And so on.
So, you get the idea. "This is why you're fat" is a blogroll that speaks to me. Mmmmm, blogroll.
Friday, February 6, 2009
Aaaaand I'm shady
I recently moved, and so I have some lingering items in my trunk. I just want to point out what they are:
-Dog crate
-Crutches
-Clown shoes
-Amy Winehouse wig
-Shovel
-Rope
-Poker set
...
Does anyone else think I look suspiciously like some sort of shady clown killer? For real, I think if I got pulled over by the police and they needed to search my car, I'd have a lot of 'splainin' to do.
UPDATE: So, my friend, Tek pointed something innerestin' out to me: why would the police "need" to search my car? Guess I'm even shadier than I thought.
-Dog crate
-Crutches
-Clown shoes
-Amy Winehouse wig
-Shovel
-Rope
-Poker set
...
Does anyone else think I look suspiciously like some sort of shady clown killer? For real, I think if I got pulled over by the police and they needed to search my car, I'd have a lot of 'splainin' to do.
UPDATE: So, my friend, Tek pointed something innerestin' out to me: why would the police "need" to search my car? Guess I'm even shadier than I thought.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Is the plural for fetish supposed to be ‘feti?’ Wait that sounds like the plural for feta cheese. Speaking of cheese…
A few of my friends are currently enveloped in the unpredictable world of online dating. Between them, they’ve probably seen it all: older married men, foot fetish guys, guys that like to dress up in costumes and go to ComiCons, players, stalkers, guys who like to be dominated, you name it. However, today, my friend, Diablo encountered a dude with a story that none of us had EVER heard of. This is the story of SwissCheeseGuy.
Diablo received an IM through the dating website from SwissCheeseGuy. “So, would you like to participate in my swiss cheese fetish?” Her first thought about reading that this gentleman had a “swiss cheese fetish” led her to believe what any sane person would: this guy clearly likes to…er, penetrate the swiss holes. She was immediately disgusted, but intrigued because, um, hi…swiss cheese fetish? Really? Upon looking at his profile, she discovered his true story (I’m only including excerpts):
I love the way Swiss cheese feels against my penis. Either as slices of
((Swiss cheese)) being wrapped around my penis or a chunk of Swiss cheese being
rubbed against my penis. I love even more when a woman uses the Swiss cheese to
pleasure me. Or simply wraps Swiss cheese slices around my penis and allows me
to hang out with her as I wear the cheese.I prefer Swiss cheese over normal ((sex)) as a way of gratification because
of a childhood condition. I ADHD as a child, that lead to lower self confidence
and mental treatment, out of which I had a hard time forming
relationships.The reason why is that I am a diabetic, and as a diabetic I have developed
erectile dysfunction. Even tho I can take medication for it, I simply can't get
sustained erections to have normal sex, just hard enough to have my fetish.Now I
am just addicted to it, like a smoker is addicted to cigarettes. It's like a
drug, that I simple can't get enough of.Everyone has fetishes.
OK…Wow, just wow. I have to agree with Diablo when she said that his profile left her with a lot of emotions. She stated:
Like at first, I was mad that I wasn't right about him liking to stick his dick
in the cheese holes, then I was disgusted...then I was, admittedly, intrigued
with my mental image of a fat dude sitting there with roller up swiss on his
chubby limp peen. Then, I almost got a little sad at the diabetes part, then I
was back to disgusted. Overall, you laughed, you cried, you puked.
I just want to point out that he blames his ADHD for his need to rub swiss cheese on his peen. Right, because having attention span problems naturally progresses into being sexually attracted to dairy in adulthood. If that were the case, given the amount of children diagnosed with attention problems in this country, we’d probably see a steady rise in dairy pricing. You know, supply and demand. And, I know I speak for most when I say that it’ll be a cold day in hell before I pay more than I already have to for cheese. Cheese that I EAT. Seriously, do I blame my obsession for eating as many different kinds of gummy candy as possible on being a child of divorce? No (kind of).
Anyway, I feel kinda bad for SwissCheeseGuy. He’s definitely in the minority. I wanna say that we should all make up fake fetishes and post profiles so he doesn’t feel bad, but honestly, I couldn’t come up with something that good if I tried.
p.s. So um, swiss cheese is pretty much ruined for me forever. From now on, I’m getting cheddar on my ruben sandwiches because, damn.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Realizations, with a touch of dyslexia
When I was younger, there were thoughts I had to myself that I assumed applied to everyone. I found out the truths about these thoughts far too late in life…
For one, I thought it was widely known that Puff the Magic Dragon frolicked in the “Ottomiss.” Yes, I thought this was the name of the town where he lived in the land of Honnahlee. Like Ottomiss, Honnahlee, UK or some shit. This is the reason why I was 110% shocked at the age of 16 when I found out it was really the “Autumn Mist.” Say whaaa?
Secondly, growing up, I thought Princeton was a good representation of New Jersey…until I went to school in Northern New Jersey. Then, I discovered that not only is Princeton NOT a good representation of New Jersey, but that it is not a good representation of anything but itself. It is unique in all of its own good and bad ways. For 18 years, I truly lived in a bubble. “Schools have marching bands??” “Not everyone has to take 5 AP courses even if they don't feel totally qualified?” Yeah, these are realizations I came to.
And lastly, I used to think everyone was a little bit dyslexic. I remember saying to my sister once “You know when you look at a word and you see ‘Pastey’ but then you realize it actually says ‘Patsy?’ Isn’t that weird?” She laughed and rolled her eyes. I figured this was just because she was my sister and she’s allowed to tease me about stuff. So, I went on believing this falsity that everyone is a little dyslexic. Sadly, I only recently came to the realization that this is not true. I came across an online quiz that said something like “if you answer yes to 5 or more of these questions, you may be dyslexic.” I figured, what the hey, and took it….and I answered yes to 9 of them. Uh-oh. I figured I’d do a little searching to see if I couldn’t find more answers. I found another similar questionnaire, where it seemed I was clicking the bubbles next to the Yes’s on every question.
“Do you have trouble concentrating?” YES.
“Do you often daydream?” YES.
“Did you have trouble with word problems in school, but excelled at art and music?” YES.
“Do you make mistakes when writing cheques?” OMG YES (you don't understand how many cheques I've had to void through the years).
“Does your handwriting vary or is illegible?” SERIOUSLY, YES, GET OUT OF MY HEAD.
“Do you hold a pen or pencil unusually, or are ambidextrous?” YES, YES, YES!
“Do you often get confused with dates or are late to appointments?” SHUT UP, YES!
And so on.
So guys, I think I have a problem. How does one get evaluated for dyslexia? And more importantly, how did this slip by all my teachers and loved ones, who passed all these quirks off as “That’s just Caroline being Caroline?” And this friends, is how, at the age of 25, I found out that not everyone is a little bit dyslexic...BUT, I might be. Yikes.
For one, I thought it was widely known that Puff the Magic Dragon frolicked in the “Ottomiss.” Yes, I thought this was the name of the town where he lived in the land of Honnahlee. Like Ottomiss, Honnahlee, UK or some shit. This is the reason why I was 110% shocked at the age of 16 when I found out it was really the “Autumn Mist.” Say whaaa?
Secondly, growing up, I thought Princeton was a good representation of New Jersey…until I went to school in Northern New Jersey. Then, I discovered that not only is Princeton NOT a good representation of New Jersey, but that it is not a good representation of anything but itself. It is unique in all of its own good and bad ways. For 18 years, I truly lived in a bubble. “Schools have marching bands??” “Not everyone has to take 5 AP courses even if they don't feel totally qualified?” Yeah, these are realizations I came to.
And lastly, I used to think everyone was a little bit dyslexic. I remember saying to my sister once “You know when you look at a word and you see ‘Pastey’ but then you realize it actually says ‘Patsy?’ Isn’t that weird?” She laughed and rolled her eyes. I figured this was just because she was my sister and she’s allowed to tease me about stuff. So, I went on believing this falsity that everyone is a little dyslexic. Sadly, I only recently came to the realization that this is not true. I came across an online quiz that said something like “if you answer yes to 5 or more of these questions, you may be dyslexic.” I figured, what the hey, and took it….and I answered yes to 9 of them. Uh-oh. I figured I’d do a little searching to see if I couldn’t find more answers. I found another similar questionnaire, where it seemed I was clicking the bubbles next to the Yes’s on every question.
“Do you have trouble concentrating?” YES.
“Do you often daydream?” YES.
“Did you have trouble with word problems in school, but excelled at art and music?” YES.
“Do you make mistakes when writing cheques?” OMG YES (you don't understand how many cheques I've had to void through the years).
“Does your handwriting vary or is illegible?” SERIOUSLY, YES, GET OUT OF MY HEAD.
“Do you hold a pen or pencil unusually, or are ambidextrous?” YES, YES, YES!
“Do you often get confused with dates or are late to appointments?” SHUT UP, YES!
And so on.
So guys, I think I have a problem. How does one get evaluated for dyslexia? And more importantly, how did this slip by all my teachers and loved ones, who passed all these quirks off as “That’s just Caroline being Caroline?” And this friends, is how, at the age of 25, I found out that not everyone is a little bit dyslexic...BUT, I might be. Yikes.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Bring on the salmonella
So the FDA has issued a recall of several peanut butter products apparently. I recieved a voicemail today from ShopRite of a recorded message. It went something like this:
"Our Price Plus records indicate that you have purchased FDA recalled products recently. Jarred peanut butter for consumer use has not been recalled. For more information, please go to www.FDA.gov. Thank you."
So lemme get this straight. I get a voicemail, telling me that I've purchased poison, and they don't tell me what that poison is? Awesome. Good thing they let me know that jarred peanut butter is not tainted. Really, I'm sure most things I've eaten aren't tainted...but WHAT IS?? I think that's really the key piece of information for a call like this. They're like "oh, b-t-dubbs, some kind of grocery you bought, sometime in life at shop rite might kill you. Wellp, enjoy!" Why call me if you're not going to tell me what foods of mine are going to kill me?
The easy solution would be to dump the contents of the fridge, but here's the problem: we moved this weekend, and before we did so we avoided shopping and ATE EVERYTHING WE HAD. Yep, tainted pb crackers, and keebler cookies, and cliff bars and all. Here's the thing. Steve is a hypochondriac. Since he's the person that usually consumes the snacks in the house, I think I just won't tell him about this recall. I'll just wait for him to get sick, and then make him run around so he'll sweat it out. That's how you get rid of salmonella, right? Sweating it out? I dunno, I'm not a doctor. All I know is that my sister had salmonella once and it wasn't that bad. And by not that bad I mean she had crippling squirts for weeks and was hospitalized. But hey, she didn't have to go to work! High five!
"Our Price Plus records indicate that you have purchased FDA recalled products recently. Jarred peanut butter for consumer use has not been recalled. For more information, please go to www.FDA.gov. Thank you."
So lemme get this straight. I get a voicemail, telling me that I've purchased poison, and they don't tell me what that poison is? Awesome. Good thing they let me know that jarred peanut butter is not tainted. Really, I'm sure most things I've eaten aren't tainted...but WHAT IS?? I think that's really the key piece of information for a call like this. They're like "oh, b-t-dubbs, some kind of grocery you bought, sometime in life at shop rite might kill you. Wellp, enjoy!" Why call me if you're not going to tell me what foods of mine are going to kill me?
The easy solution would be to dump the contents of the fridge, but here's the problem: we moved this weekend, and before we did so we avoided shopping and ATE EVERYTHING WE HAD. Yep, tainted pb crackers, and keebler cookies, and cliff bars and all. Here's the thing. Steve is a hypochondriac. Since he's the person that usually consumes the snacks in the house, I think I just won't tell him about this recall. I'll just wait for him to get sick, and then make him run around so he'll sweat it out. That's how you get rid of salmonella, right? Sweating it out? I dunno, I'm not a doctor. All I know is that my sister had salmonella once and it wasn't that bad. And by not that bad I mean she had crippling squirts for weeks and was hospitalized. But hey, she didn't have to go to work! High five!
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
The Butt-nanas
The following disturbing (yet hilarious) video was sent to me by my dear friend, Red Diablo (which was sent to her by her coworker, ScavengerHunt).
This was the follow-up conversation we had about it.
Diablo: in the midst of convo, ScavengerHunt and i decided we were going to form a team for banana butt peelers
Me: hahaha
Diablo: and now we are trying to come up with a name and a motto
Me: hmmm
Me: The South Jersey Banana Splits
Diablo: so far we have: The Banana Smugglers: Our Grip on the Competition is Firm
Diablo: The Clinchers: We Keep the Pressure On
Diablo: and The Bruised Naners...but i dont have a motto for that one lol
Me: lol
Me: hmm
Diablo: I was thinking somthing along the lines of: The Bruised Naners: ironic that its the bananas that are bruised
Diablo: or The Bruised Naners: We Toughen the Skin
Me: ahaha
Me: The Bananadonks: not just a crack pot theory
Diablo: hahahahahaha
Diablo: i knew i could get some winners outta you
Me: hahah
Diablo: got any more?
Me: The Butt-nanas: More cushion for the shmushin
Diablo: O
Diablo: M
Diablo: G
Diablo: that is amazing!
Me: ahahaha
Me: thanks!
Diablo: i think that one might be my fav
Me: ahaha
Me: If there were a documentary about the Butt-nanas, it would be called "Cheek-to-cheek: a story of struggle, glory, and extra potassium"
Diablo: hahahahahahahaha
Diablo: seriously???
Diablo: where does this come from?
Me: I don't know!
Me: Unpeeled: The Butt-nanas story
Me: I dunno why I'm obsessed with making your team the subject of a documentary
Diablo: we may need to make a buttnanas doc now
Me: yeah I think you're right
Diablo: [From ScavengerHunt] Banan-stronaughts: Boldly putting fruit where it has never gone before.
Me: hahaha
Diablo: hahaha
Diablo: he's turning up the game obviously
Me: yes indeed
Me: The Banan-ditos: you gotta problem ese?
Diablo: hahahahahahaha
Diablo: [from SvavengerHunt] The Crocodile Bumm-dees: That's not a banana, This is a banana. Me: The bananzookas: weapons of ass destruction
Diablo: hahahaha
Diablo: omg, im like crying
Me: omg me too!
Diablo: ok, he heard me laughing and came in here lol
Me: hahahaah
Me: The Butt Pirates: get on the butt, the bannana butt
Me: ahaha
Diablo: hahahaha
Diablo: The 3 Buttskateers
Me: ahahahah
Diablo: i need a line though
Diablo: probably going off of one for all and all for one
Me: hmm
Me: thats a toughie
Diablo: yea i know
Diablo: dammit
*later that day*
Diablo: The 3 Buttskateers: All for bum, and bum for all!
Friday, December 19, 2008
freedom cheese
I want to share an IM conversation I had with my coworker about cheese, in regards to the sandwich special in the corporate deli in our building. I would try to summarize, but I think it is best left in its original format:
me: yeah that sounds tasty
me: what kinda cheese did you get on it
me: I'm usually a provolone kinda gal myslef
TheCoworker: i like to switch it up
TheCoworker: i went with the american yesterday
TheCoworker: today I'm feeling anti-american
me: these colors don't fade!
me: haha
TheCoworker: ahahahaha!!!!!
TheCoworker: that's the best!
me: it would be funny if you threw your shoe at the deli guy
TheCoworker: ahahaha
me: and then when he's like wtf? You're like oh sorry, I just meant I want provolone instead of american
me: yeah that sounds tasty
me: what kinda cheese did you get on it
me: I'm usually a provolone kinda gal myslef
TheCoworker: i like to switch it up
TheCoworker: i went with the american yesterday
TheCoworker: today I'm feeling anti-american
me: these colors don't fade!
me: haha
TheCoworker: ahahahaha!!!!!
TheCoworker: that's the best!
me: it would be funny if you threw your shoe at the deli guy
TheCoworker: ahahaha
me: and then when he's like wtf? You're like oh sorry, I just meant I want provolone instead of american
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
To space boot, with love
Almost 8 weeks ago, I fractured my ankle at roller derby practice. For the last 6 of those 8 weeks, I've had an extremely stylish space boot strapped to my right leg. Since my time left in the boot is waning, I think I should write a letter to it, to recap some of the good times.
Dear space boot,
Hey, pal. I've made some amazing memories while inside you (hehe, ew), but it is time to say goodbye. I wanted to let you know how much I've appreciated our time together, so I've come up with a list of things I'll miss about you.
-I'm going to miss having to choose between skinny jeans that fit under you, or wide leg jeans that fit over you. Who needs lame middle ground boot cut jeans anyway? Certainly not me and my several, several pairs of boot cut jeans.
-I'm going to miss not being able to wear cute heels because you make my steps uneven and choppy.
-I'm going to miss your awesome air pump. You did things for the air pump that Nike couldn't dream about. Also, when I let the air out of you after a long day, you made the air around me smell plastic-y. Mmmm, carcinogenic.
-I'll miss the way you expose my toes. Having to wear black socks everyday has been a challenge, but it gave me an excuse to use my unpaired single socks that have lost their mates in the laundry. Also, my exposed toes have made me a stronger person, since I've essentially been wearing a giant velcro sandal in inclement November/December weather.
-I'm going to miss how, no matter how many times I rotate which left shoe I'm wearing, all of my left shoes are wearing out.
-I'm going to miss my scronny right calf. It's so cute and mushy--range of motion is so overatted.
-I'll miss the weird looks you made me get in public. "Is that girl wearing one single ugg boot? Oh, no, it's just one of those zany medical boots."
-I'm going to miss the way everyone at work hears me coming down the hall from a hundred yards away...*step, KLOMP, step, KLOMP, step, KLOMP...*
-I'll miss having to risk a ticket everytime I get behind the wheel, because you're too frusterating to take on and off every time I get in the car (but are illegal to drive in). You're a dirty, dirty temptress and I love it!
-Lastly, I'll miss how when you get wet, you make my steps sound like the squeaky hull of a pirate ship.
Until we meet again (when I dig you out of the closet in a few months and try to sell you on ebay, because if you buy these things from the manufacturer they are $200!! I bet I could get $50),
Caroline
Dear space boot,
Hey, pal. I've made some amazing memories while inside you (hehe, ew), but it is time to say goodbye. I wanted to let you know how much I've appreciated our time together, so I've come up with a list of things I'll miss about you.
-I'm going to miss having to choose between skinny jeans that fit under you, or wide leg jeans that fit over you. Who needs lame middle ground boot cut jeans anyway? Certainly not me and my several, several pairs of boot cut jeans.
-I'm going to miss not being able to wear cute heels because you make my steps uneven and choppy.
-I'm going to miss your awesome air pump. You did things for the air pump that Nike couldn't dream about. Also, when I let the air out of you after a long day, you made the air around me smell plastic-y. Mmmm, carcinogenic.
-I'll miss the way you expose my toes. Having to wear black socks everyday has been a challenge, but it gave me an excuse to use my unpaired single socks that have lost their mates in the laundry. Also, my exposed toes have made me a stronger person, since I've essentially been wearing a giant velcro sandal in inclement November/December weather.
-I'm going to miss how, no matter how many times I rotate which left shoe I'm wearing, all of my left shoes are wearing out.
-I'm going to miss my scronny right calf. It's so cute and mushy--range of motion is so overatted.
-I'll miss the weird looks you made me get in public. "Is that girl wearing one single ugg boot? Oh, no, it's just one of those zany medical boots."
-I'm going to miss the way everyone at work hears me coming down the hall from a hundred yards away...*step, KLOMP, step, KLOMP, step, KLOMP...*
-I'll miss having to risk a ticket everytime I get behind the wheel, because you're too frusterating to take on and off every time I get in the car (but are illegal to drive in). You're a dirty, dirty temptress and I love it!
-Lastly, I'll miss how when you get wet, you make my steps sound like the squeaky hull of a pirate ship.
Until we meet again (when I dig you out of the closet in a few months and try to sell you on ebay, because if you buy these things from the manufacturer they are $200!! I bet I could get $50),
Caroline
Updating life...
For some reason, I can't access my old blog. I tried to sign in and it won't remember me. I ended up re-posting my old entries from 2007 into this new blog. So, anything you've read on here previous to this post is not recent. Please disregard carolinemichelleincrazyvision.blogspot.com, and refer to this site. I'll hopefully be updating more regularly. Thank you.
Friendly neighbors are going to the dogs
My boyfriend, Steve and I recently became the proud "parents" of a long-haired dachshund puppy named Ruby. She is excruciatingly cute; everyone in our complex loves her. She's seriously the most popular mammal at Rivercrest Apartments.
Now, being a new dog owner, I was previously never privy to how CRAZY some other dog owners can be. For example, my neighbor came over to me one day with her Terrier when I was walking Ruby so that they could "meet" each other. We talked for 15 minutes before I even found out this woman's name. Why is that, you ask? Well, because the entire time we were "talking," she was asking me questions through Ruby in puppy baby talk, indicating to me that she was asking these questions in her dog's voice...such as, "and how old are you Miss Ruby?? Come on Max, say, 'I'm a little boy, I'm 2 years old'!" She knows that the dog can't answer, but is still asking her the question. Then I awkwardly reply in my regular Caroline-the-human voice with "She's 5 months," only for her to look at me in shock and disgust. She then rubbed Ruby behind the ears and said "I bet you're daddy's girl aren't you? Yes you are, say, 'yes I am'!"
A few days later, this same woman saw Steve walking Ruby. I think he described the situation best when he said "A stranger came up to us today and had a 10 minute long conversation with Ruby...I've never seen this woman before. I seriously thought she was going to ask her out for lunch."
This past weekend, Steve and I were playing with Ruby in the courtyard. We were playing fetch, but she was leashed. A woman walked by us with her two hugenormous dogs (I use the term "dogs" loosely...one looked like a Pumbaa from "The Lion King," and the other like White Fang). I'd also like to point out that both dogs were muzzled. Anywho...Ruby, who is 7 pounds and possesses a great deal of "little man" syndrome, sort of lunged at the two dogs. They lunged back at her, jumping about and snarling and snorting ominously like a couple of rabid monkeys. That is, if monkeys were big and fat with fangs and had to be muzzled. Ruby backed away and whimpered, while the crazy crack-addled behavior of the two beasts persisted. The woman gave both leashes a protective tug, huffed at us snippily, and said "Come on boys, stay away from her!" She shot me a horrified look, so as to say "Keep that wild animal in a cage!" At first, I was offended. Those dogs obviously would have had the upper hand in the situation...I mean, literally they could have ingested Ruby as well as both of us and gone back home to eat Alpo. Then I remembered that this woman was unfortunate all around: delusional about life, stout and spandex-clad, and she lives in a one-bedroom apartment with a wolf and a warthog. I laughed to myself and rewarded my brave "daddy's girl" with a toss of the old squeaky toy.
Now, being a new dog owner, I was previously never privy to how CRAZY some other dog owners can be. For example, my neighbor came over to me one day with her Terrier when I was walking Ruby so that they could "meet" each other. We talked for 15 minutes before I even found out this woman's name. Why is that, you ask? Well, because the entire time we were "talking," she was asking me questions through Ruby in puppy baby talk, indicating to me that she was asking these questions in her dog's voice...such as, "and how old are you Miss Ruby?? Come on Max, say, 'I'm a little boy, I'm 2 years old'!" She knows that the dog can't answer, but is still asking her the question. Then I awkwardly reply in my regular Caroline-the-human voice with "She's 5 months," only for her to look at me in shock and disgust. She then rubbed Ruby behind the ears and said "I bet you're daddy's girl aren't you? Yes you are, say, 'yes I am'!"
A few days later, this same woman saw Steve walking Ruby. I think he described the situation best when he said "A stranger came up to us today and had a 10 minute long conversation with Ruby...I've never seen this woman before. I seriously thought she was going to ask her out for lunch."
This past weekend, Steve and I were playing with Ruby in the courtyard. We were playing fetch, but she was leashed. A woman walked by us with her two hugenormous dogs (I use the term "dogs" loosely...one looked like a Pumbaa from "The Lion King," and the other like White Fang). I'd also like to point out that both dogs were muzzled. Anywho...Ruby, who is 7 pounds and possesses a great deal of "little man" syndrome, sort of lunged at the two dogs. They lunged back at her, jumping about and snarling and snorting ominously like a couple of rabid monkeys. That is, if monkeys were big and fat with fangs and had to be muzzled. Ruby backed away and whimpered, while the crazy crack-addled behavior of the two beasts persisted. The woman gave both leashes a protective tug, huffed at us snippily, and said "Come on boys, stay away from her!" She shot me a horrified look, so as to say "Keep that wild animal in a cage!" At first, I was offended. Those dogs obviously would have had the upper hand in the situation...I mean, literally they could have ingested Ruby as well as both of us and gone back home to eat Alpo. Then I remembered that this woman was unfortunate all around: delusional about life, stout and spandex-clad, and she lives in a one-bedroom apartment with a wolf and a warthog. I laughed to myself and rewarded my brave "daddy's girl" with a toss of the old squeaky toy.
I think I need a word with someone at the Toyota parts and service department.
I was driving home from work yesterday in the rain. I was frustrated as it was, I knew I had to take the long way since the bridge on my usual route often floods. I figured I could suck up the extra 10 minutes and deal. The rain started to pick up a bit, so I turned the windshield wipers up a notch. Ahh, that was better...at least for a moment, until I heard an almost cartoonish mechanical malfunction noise (like what you would hear in a movie when someone jams a stick into the robot's gears and it dies).
"REEEeeaaaaarrrrrr" <--I think it went something like that.
Anyway, I looked over to the right of my windshield, and to my astonishment, the wipers had completely intertwined themselves. How the nut does that happen? They are two separate entities, on two life paths, each doing a separate job for the common good of clean and dry windshieldery. How is this even possible?? I couldn't pull over immediately to check it out. Apparently, in Rocky Hill, NJ, there are NO shoulders on any of the streets. I ended up practically parking in someone's yard. I turned off the wipers, got out and began the untangling process. Let me tell you, those bad boys were STUCK. I mean, really stuck together. One was wilting over and stuck through one of the openings in the other one. I don't know how it got in, because I couldn't wriggle the thing looser OR tighter. I felt like no matter what I did, I just kept making it worse. I'm also pretty sure I heard the wipers laugh at me.
Keep in mind, I was getting rained on...hard.
I had to muster up every ounce of strength I had to untangle these things...which may have been too much strength, because I nearly broke them apart. I noticed one of the blades was now bent and loose on the end, but the wipers themselves looked pretty much normal. So, I got back in the car and re-powered the wipers. The good news is that they were no longer stuck together. The bad news is that they were now at completely different speeds. I had the wiper power on medium-slow. The left wiper appeared to be doing turbo mach 3 speed, and the right one was like watching an elderly woman run a 400 meter dash: sluggish and confused (and sexy). Oh, and remember that robot noise I told you about earlier? Yeah it was back. Only this wasn't the "robot dying" noise, it was the "holy shit, someone messed with the robot control panel and now its blood-thirsty and heading for the orphanage!" noise. I ended up turning the wipers off altogher, and almost died several times on the (long) way home.
I think windsheild wipers are the kind of thing where you don't know what you've got 'til its gone. Only, I did know what I had before it was gone, and loosing it sucked as much as I expected it to! What are the odds that yesterday gave us the only rain of the season...anyone?
They write blogs!
You know what really kills me? The "they're just like us" section in Us Weekly. If you're not familiar with the section, it will have pictures of celebrities doing normal things. I know that the point of the column is to show the average Joe, that celebrities are people, too. Some of them are interesting...like when Brad Pitt is pumping his own gas and the caption read, "They pump their own gas!"--because in that situation, you may think "Oh, wow, I thought he might have a chauffer or something that could do that for him." But honestly, there was a picture of Gwyneth Paltrow with a water bottle and the caption said, "They drink water!"
*pause to reflect*
No shit! Last time I checked, humans needed water to live. Are people THAT dumb, that they wonder if celebrities drink water? Guess what guys, they also breathe! I'd be willing to go out on a limb here, and say that they probably occasionally use the bathroom, too.
I hear the secrets that you keep (na...na na) when you're talkin' in your sleep
I love when people talk in their sleep. This was an exact recount of what happened when I came home last night and Steve was already in bed asleep...
Me: (whispering) Hi Babes.
Steve: (also whispering) Who is that?
Me: Its me!
Steve: Me?? Hey, I don't want any trouble!
Me: I'm not going to give you any trouble...its just me!
Steve: Oh, ok....Listen, I have to go to work. *rolls over and begins to snore*
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Or who could forget the time I fell asleep on the couch and my sister tried to get me to go to my bed...
Suzanne: Caroline! Go to bed.
Me: I can't...that's where the cat sleeps.
Suzanne: What? What do you mean?
Me: Watch out for Gill Road.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I have a friend that used to talk in her sleep all the time. We would make getting her to talk in her sleep the main focal point of sleepovers. We would try to spark any conversation we could...
Us: Are you ready for breakfast?
Friend: German Waffles??
Us: Sure...German waffles.
And sometimes she would just hand us material...
Friend: Here, hold this cup.
Us: What?
Friend: I made it for you. Now, its time for you to hold it.
Me: (whispering) Hi Babes.
Steve: (also whispering) Who is that?
Me: Its me!
Steve: Me?? Hey, I don't want any trouble!
Me: I'm not going to give you any trouble...its just me!
Steve: Oh, ok....Listen, I have to go to work. *rolls over and begins to snore*
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Or who could forget the time I fell asleep on the couch and my sister tried to get me to go to my bed...
Suzanne: Caroline! Go to bed.
Me: I can't...that's where the cat sleeps.
Suzanne: What? What do you mean?
Me: Watch out for Gill Road.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I have a friend that used to talk in her sleep all the time. We would make getting her to talk in her sleep the main focal point of sleepovers. We would try to spark any conversation we could...
Us: Are you ready for breakfast?
Friend: German Waffles??
Us: Sure...German waffles.
And sometimes she would just hand us material...
Friend: Here, hold this cup.
Us: What?
Friend: I made it for you. Now, its time for you to hold it.
WTF is a necktie anyway?
One morning, I was watching my boyfriend, Steve, get ready for work when it occured to me: what the fuck is a necktie? Like, seriously...what is that? I mean, as a woman, I'm confident in saying that we do some crazy things solely for cosmetic purposes...don't get me wrong. I just want to know who came up with the idea for a tie. When did that start? What came first: the collared shirt, or the tie? Was someone like "I came up with this great idea to put decorative silk around my neck, but it just doesn't fit with this regular, collar-less shirt." Or were they like, "This collared shirt would be great...if it only had the perfect accessory. *puts on the tie* Ahhhh...NOW, I'm ready for work."It is just amazing to me how we fall into fashion trends, and how some of them hang around--to the point that they become timeless, like the tie. I just thank my lucky stars everyday that the "Dickie" never stuck.
This post is brought to you by "Viagra"
I used to make fun of blogs. What the hell is a blog anyway? And now, here I am. I guess I find myself to be more creatively productive when I'm writing regularly. I've seen how simply writing down stories and thoughts on an electronic piece of paper can gain someone tons of exposure (not to mention the free upgrade of gusto), so I figured what the hey, you know?
Anyway, there is something I want to talk about. Why don't we see more celebrities doing commercials for obscure products? Example: last night I saw Betty White doing a commercial for a Pet Medicine delivery service. Before last night, I didn't even know Betty White had a dog! Why should I know that anyway? In any case, it was refreshing to see that. It brought me back to the days when Wilford Brimley did commercials for Diabetes medication...or when Florence Henderson promoted densure adhesive. Do those people really use those products? The possibilites are so exciting for me! I'd like to see more of those commercials, but with fresh faces.
"Hi, I'm Katie Holmes. You may remember me from the WB smash hit, 'Dawson's Creek.' I want to talk to you about erectile dysfunction. There are many factors that cause some men to experience ED; old age, medications, fatigue, or simply not being attracted to women. My husband, Tom, is gayer than Christmas, yet we were able to concieve a child. It is all because of Viagra. So ladies, if having sex with your gay husband seems like 'Risky Business,' pick up Viagra, and turn your 'Magnolia' into a 'Top Gun!' Thank you."
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