Be prepared, kids, this is a long story ahead.
I think I'm going to become a nun, if for no other reason than most of the priests I know or see on the tele have much better love lives than I do. And hey, being in love soley with good ol' JC can't be that bad right? I mean.. if you're in the nunnery, you get food, a place to live, clothes (not spiffy, but someone will donate some good looking shoes) and sit in solitude and pray (and honestly, we all know that I can amuse myself anywhere, so the conversations I'd have in my head would be satisfying enough).
Ok, G, Why have you decided on such a dramatic turn? Because, plain and simple, I have become a halfway house for single men who are either clinically retarded or crazy. And what's worse, is that the only reason why i'm this halfway house is ... THAT IS ALL THAT IS LEFT OUT THERE. I tried explaining this to Schmeffy, but being a newly off-the-market bachelor, he has no clue what I'm talking about. Of course, as I was trying to explain this to him, it was as he was cutting his girlfriend's fajita meat at dinner--no worries, she cut his right back. (Nothing makes a single gal want to gag more than that, sorry Schmeffy.... but you should've just thrown some lemon juice in my eyes or maybe some of Schmotty's pool chemicals instead)
So for the record, once again, my man selection has reflected the equivalent of a very successful boy band...for those gals who loved them, I'll equate them to NKOTB... a drunken "bad boy" (Donnie), a guy that literally embodies the phrase "like watching paint dry" (Danny), a cheap lawyer trying to off me in a park (Jon), someone that by process of elimination actually wasn't gay but "just isn't that into me"(Jordan), and the elusive young republican, the "baby face" (Joey)
Yet, I've taken that in stride, until now.... because it has only grown worse. What could put G over the edge? NASCAR. That's right, NASCAR. I'm a good sport and I'll do anything for my friends so when I met someone that builds the engines for some of the best drivers in the sport today, I said.. well, how bad can this possibly be... at the very least, I'll have some decent tickets out of the deal.
Sorry, y'all but this will never happen. Because before I could even meet this man in person, he proclaimed his love for me in an email. That's right... email and the words I LOVE YOU. I'm all for technological advancement and living in a fast paced world.. but shouldn't you meet me first? I actually asked him that in an email when he told me I was beautiful prior to the I Love You. WHAT? I've had boyfriends that never said those words and especially not written where it could be held against them.
So, readers, what do I do? Schmeffy's advice is that I should start to school these fools, but honestly, do these boys really need that help? I kind of get what he's saying, but don't these boys realize that gals like me don't want to have to give a tutorial every 20 minutes? I feel like I should walk around w/CD-ROMS of power point presentations... Dating Etiquette 101, What Not To Say to The Girl You Barely Know 102... or in the case of my poor friend Nicole, Breaking Up For Idiots... Why You Shouldn't Argue When The Girl Dumping You Isn't the Girlfriend You've Been Dating Behind Her Back for Months...
I mean, the cheap lawyer who tried to off me in a park did manage to go point for point with me on my email explaining to him why I would never meet someone I don't know in the same park that caused a national investigation for a girl that disappeared and was eventually found dead.
Well, dear readers, I'll take your advice if you want to leave some, since trying to do this on my own clearly isn't working. I did see that news story about the guy in Utah who took out a billboard to find someone. I looked twice to make sure none of you decided to do that as my birthday present.
I hope everyone is having a good weekend and these entries fulfilled all the blog craving that I've been hearing so much about...
I'll keep you posted on this evening's bar crawl adventures.
Smooches,
G
Saturday, July 30, 2005
Friday, July 29, 2005
yer cheatin' blog
ok, ok... enough with the complaints. I know I haven't blogged about my birthday and yes I KNOW, its been well over a week. anyway, I'm still cheatin' tonight. Here is one of the funniest forwards I ever got and since its a Friday night and I'm doing work, Bite me.
One of my best friends from high school is coming down tomorrow, I know we'll be in some form of trouble that I'll tell you all about... and if not, I'll reveal my theory on dating a person based on their names.
Smooch.
-G
For those of you out in the business world...
1. BLAMESTORMING:
Sitting around in a group, discussing why a deadline was missed or a project
failed, and who was responsible.
2. SEAGULL MANAGER:
A manager, who flies in, makes a lot of noise, craps on everything, and then
leaves.
3. ASSMOSIS:
The process by which some people seem to absorb success and advancement by
kissing up to the boss rather than working hard.
4. SALMON DAY:
The experience of spending an entire day swimming upstream only to get
screwed and die in the end
5. CUBE FARM:
An office filled with cubicles.
6. PRAIRIE DOGGING:
When someone yells or drops something loudly in a Cube farm, and people's
heads pop up over the walls to see what's going on.
7. MOUSE POTATO:
The on-line, wired generation's answer to the couch potato.
8. SITCOMs:
Single Income, Two Children, Oppressive Mortgage. What yuppies turn into
when they have children and one of them stops working to stay home with the
kids.
9. STRESS PUPPY:
A person who seems to thrive on being stressed out and whiny.
10 SWIPEOUT:
An ATM or credit card that has been rendered useless because the magnetic
strip is worn away from extensive use.
11. XEROX SUBSIDY:
Euphemism for swiping free photocopies from one's workplace.
12. IRRITAINMENT:
Entertainment and media spectacles that are annoying but you find yourself
unable to stop watching them. The J-Lo and Ben wedding (or not) was a prime
example.
13. PERCUSSIVE MAINTENANCE:
The fine art of whacking the crap out of an electronic device to get it to
work again.
14. ADMINISPHERE:
The rarefied organizational layers beginning just above the rank and file.
Decisions that fall from the adminisphere are often profoundly inappropriate
or irrelevant to the problems they were designed to solve.
15. 404:
Someone who's clueless. From the World Wide Web error message "404 Not
Found," meaning that the requested document could not be located.
16. CROP DUSTING:
Surreptitiously farting while passing through a Cube Farm.
17. OHNOSECOND:
That minuscule fraction of time in which you realize that you've just made a
BIG mistake.
18. WOOFS:
Well-Off Older Folk
One of my best friends from high school is coming down tomorrow, I know we'll be in some form of trouble that I'll tell you all about... and if not, I'll reveal my theory on dating a person based on their names.
Smooch.
-G
For those of you out in the business world...
1. BLAMESTORMING:
Sitting around in a group, discussing why a deadline was missed or a project
failed, and who was responsible.
2. SEAGULL MANAGER:
A manager, who flies in, makes a lot of noise, craps on everything, and then
leaves.
3. ASSMOSIS:
The process by which some people seem to absorb success and advancement by
kissing up to the boss rather than working hard.
4. SALMON DAY:
The experience of spending an entire day swimming upstream only to get
screwed and die in the end
5. CUBE FARM:
An office filled with cubicles.
6. PRAIRIE DOGGING:
When someone yells or drops something loudly in a Cube farm, and people's
heads pop up over the walls to see what's going on.
7. MOUSE POTATO:
The on-line, wired generation's answer to the couch potato.
8. SITCOMs:
Single Income, Two Children, Oppressive Mortgage. What yuppies turn into
when they have children and one of them stops working to stay home with the
kids.
9. STRESS PUPPY:
A person who seems to thrive on being stressed out and whiny.
10 SWIPEOUT:
An ATM or credit card that has been rendered useless because the magnetic
strip is worn away from extensive use.
11. XEROX SUBSIDY:
Euphemism for swiping free photocopies from one's workplace.
12. IRRITAINMENT:
Entertainment and media spectacles that are annoying but you find yourself
unable to stop watching them. The J-Lo and Ben wedding (or not) was a prime
example.
13. PERCUSSIVE MAINTENANCE:
The fine art of whacking the crap out of an electronic device to get it to
work again.
14. ADMINISPHERE:
The rarefied organizational layers beginning just above the rank and file.
Decisions that fall from the adminisphere are often profoundly inappropriate
or irrelevant to the problems they were designed to solve.
15. 404:
Someone who's clueless. From the World Wide Web error message "404 Not
Found," meaning that the requested document could not be located.
16. CROP DUSTING:
Surreptitiously farting while passing through a Cube Farm.
17. OHNOSECOND:
That minuscule fraction of time in which you realize that you've just made a
BIG mistake.
18. WOOFS:
Well-Off Older Folk
Tuesday, July 26, 2005
The Season One Finale of Insecta
Episode 12
"Mayor Marino breaks a nail"
Mr. Z had clearly seen the writing on the wall. His plan to win the hand of Detective Mangy in marriage had failed miserably and Insecta had been captured. Even his effort to thwart her himself with a bomb had backfired. Knowing his wealth could not buy him safety and legal immunity in Vegas, Mr. Z planned to flee to his private hideaway in Key West, Florida.
However, as he watched the news on television, he became aware there may still be a way to get the attention of the object of his affections. He observed Cheetah Kittens - whom he had kidnapped and held for some time in effort to grab Detective Mangy's attention - was speaking to reporters at Precinct headquarters. Yet, the police had all departed in the effort to take Insecta into custody. Only the press surrounded her as she spoke on television.
There was Cheetah with her feathered headdress and her sparkling show suit, smiling and chatting with reporters as she recounted the horrors of her imprisonment. She spoke at length of her intention to resume showgirl work and set up a clinic for plastic surgery for the various aging zoo animals around Vegas."
Some of these animals have given their lives to entertainment but they are aging and don't look as svelte or as lithe as they once did. they deserve to look good in their old age," she commented with tears forming at the edges of her eyes.
Mr. Z. had the pilot land his plane and quickly assembled a group of paramilitaries to storm the precinct headquarters to and take Cheetah hostage once more....
Detective Mangy was the first to notice the cocoon was splitting apart and a renewed and re-invigorated Insecta was emerging. she knew her pumps had been scuffed in the fight from before and wasn't sure if they'd be as affective in their worn out state. Which reminded her, she needed to find a good cobbler to fix them if she was to use their power again.
"She's waking up!!!," Mangy exclaimed to the oblivious crowd.
Suddenly everyone started to "ooh" and "ahh" as the slimy cocoon continued to fall away from the repaired exoskeleton.
Insecta's wing was fully regrown.
"Well, well, well," exclaimed Insecta, "looks like the police is busy taking credit for doing nothing."
Captain Tombeau drew his revolver and shot Insecta six times but to no avail. She seemed invigorated with each repelled bullet. But her need for a licorice fix was such that she had no time to mess with the assembled group. She certainly didn't want to tangle with Mangy and her pumps again.
"You cops are so dumb you wouldn't be able to pour piss out of a boot if the instructions were written on the heel," Insecta barked. She didn't mean to, but she also accidentally farted. Gas was an unsavory by-product of her larval rejuvenation.
Unfortunately, Insecta gas is toxic to humans and, one-by-one, patrolmen began to fall to the ground unconscious.
"We've got to get out of here now!!" Mangy yelled to Captain Tombeau and Lion Bree.
Mayor Marino was already in his monarch edition butterfly helicopter flying above the city to reassure its residents that all was well. When he noticed all was not well, he quickly lowered a rope ladder to extract the others.
Mayor Marino loved riding his butterfly helicopter - he had a mayoral helicopter built to resemble a giant monarch butterfly.
Mayor Marino also had the habit of chewing carpenter's nails. He was so stressed out as he tried to save the others, he bite through the nail and broke it. Fortunately, his teeth were very strong.
"Damn it, I broke a nail," he complained before resuming his rescue.
Detective Mangy, Captain Tombeau, Lion Bree, and Count Beaumont managed to climb the ladder successfully and joined the Mayor in the safety of the butterfly helicopter.
Yet Insecta seemed disinterested in pursuing them. Instead, she briefly tested her wings and, once she saw they were functioning correctly, flew off very quickly in the direction of New Mexico. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Apparently Insecta no longer wished to harass Sin City.
"That won't be the last of her," Detective Mangy said watching the human fly slowly disappear with greater distance.
"No, we'll have to pursue her to the ends of the earth to insure the safety of our children," Lion Bree said with new found boldness, "she's a helluva gangsta, exoskeleton pranksta, a wannabe bad girl sucking fun outta the gambluhs -- now she's gone in a flash and in flight, but she'll be back to create another sight. "
"If it's the last thing I do," remarked Captain Tombeau, "I'll see her incarcerated on giant fly paper - and the next to last thing I'd do is make sure Lion never gets a rap contract."
"Let's all head to my mansion and have some coconut cream pie," Mayor Marino remarked, "I have a special recipe I prepare night and day. My home is call the coconut mansion because of the smell. We can have pina coladas too."
Count Beaumont added, "Well, I have come into some money myself. Perhaps we can get some key lime pies as well."
But suddenly Captain Tombeau's police radio suddenly announced an emergency call. A team of highly trained paramilitary types had raided the Police Precinct headquarters and kidnapped Cheetah Kittens. At last sighting, she was being whisked into a plane and flown away....
....Aboard the private jet, Cheetah was furious.
"What the hell are you doing? Once isn't enough? Dont' you think they'll know exactly where to look?" She screamed at Mr. Z.
"No. No one knows I keep a private residence in Key West. You'll be held there until I can figure out my next move. Only this time, there'll be no meddling penguins to help you escape." Mr. Z replied...
...Once they arrived back at precinct headquarters, Lion, Mangy, Mayor Marino, and Count Beaumont were distraught that Cheetah Kittens had, once again, been kidnapped by Mr. Z. And Insecta's disappearance hadn't helped matters. The group decided they'd have to regroup to determine what to do next. But for now, the city of Las Vegas seemed safe for the people once more.
Mangy was especially happy to have time to learn how her new power pumps worked. it would make crime fighting easier and more fashionable. She realized she hadn't had a good latte in a long while but was reassured by the mayor there was a mini-Starbucks inside the Mayor's mansion.
Lion Bree was excited to start his new job as DA of Las Vegas. It didn't hurt that will all the quality time he'd spent with Captain Tombeau that the two of them decided to go on a date the following night.
Count Beaumont wasn't sure what his next move would be. once the adventure had ended, he found himself without an owner and only mangy really had gotten to know him. No doubt Cheetah would never trust him again. Finally, he did the only thing he could think to do.
"Hey guys, it's been a busy investigation. I am sure we could all use a break. I have all this new found money to burn. How about we take a vacation? I've always wanted to visit Key West.......
to be continued Season 2 -- January, 2006
"Mayor Marino breaks a nail"
Mr. Z had clearly seen the writing on the wall. His plan to win the hand of Detective Mangy in marriage had failed miserably and Insecta had been captured. Even his effort to thwart her himself with a bomb had backfired. Knowing his wealth could not buy him safety and legal immunity in Vegas, Mr. Z planned to flee to his private hideaway in Key West, Florida.
However, as he watched the news on television, he became aware there may still be a way to get the attention of the object of his affections. He observed Cheetah Kittens - whom he had kidnapped and held for some time in effort to grab Detective Mangy's attention - was speaking to reporters at Precinct headquarters. Yet, the police had all departed in the effort to take Insecta into custody. Only the press surrounded her as she spoke on television.
There was Cheetah with her feathered headdress and her sparkling show suit, smiling and chatting with reporters as she recounted the horrors of her imprisonment. She spoke at length of her intention to resume showgirl work and set up a clinic for plastic surgery for the various aging zoo animals around Vegas."
Some of these animals have given their lives to entertainment but they are aging and don't look as svelte or as lithe as they once did. they deserve to look good in their old age," she commented with tears forming at the edges of her eyes.
Mr. Z. had the pilot land his plane and quickly assembled a group of paramilitaries to storm the precinct headquarters to and take Cheetah hostage once more....
Detective Mangy was the first to notice the cocoon was splitting apart and a renewed and re-invigorated Insecta was emerging. she knew her pumps had been scuffed in the fight from before and wasn't sure if they'd be as affective in their worn out state. Which reminded her, she needed to find a good cobbler to fix them if she was to use their power again.
"She's waking up!!!," Mangy exclaimed to the oblivious crowd.
Suddenly everyone started to "ooh" and "ahh" as the slimy cocoon continued to fall away from the repaired exoskeleton.
Insecta's wing was fully regrown.
"Well, well, well," exclaimed Insecta, "looks like the police is busy taking credit for doing nothing."
Captain Tombeau drew his revolver and shot Insecta six times but to no avail. She seemed invigorated with each repelled bullet. But her need for a licorice fix was such that she had no time to mess with the assembled group. She certainly didn't want to tangle with Mangy and her pumps again.
"You cops are so dumb you wouldn't be able to pour piss out of a boot if the instructions were written on the heel," Insecta barked. She didn't mean to, but she also accidentally farted. Gas was an unsavory by-product of her larval rejuvenation.
Unfortunately, Insecta gas is toxic to humans and, one-by-one, patrolmen began to fall to the ground unconscious.
"We've got to get out of here now!!" Mangy yelled to Captain Tombeau and Lion Bree.
Mayor Marino was already in his monarch edition butterfly helicopter flying above the city to reassure its residents that all was well. When he noticed all was not well, he quickly lowered a rope ladder to extract the others.
Mayor Marino loved riding his butterfly helicopter - he had a mayoral helicopter built to resemble a giant monarch butterfly.
Mayor Marino also had the habit of chewing carpenter's nails. He was so stressed out as he tried to save the others, he bite through the nail and broke it. Fortunately, his teeth were very strong.
"Damn it, I broke a nail," he complained before resuming his rescue.
Detective Mangy, Captain Tombeau, Lion Bree, and Count Beaumont managed to climb the ladder successfully and joined the Mayor in the safety of the butterfly helicopter.
Yet Insecta seemed disinterested in pursuing them. Instead, she briefly tested her wings and, once she saw they were functioning correctly, flew off very quickly in the direction of New Mexico. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Apparently Insecta no longer wished to harass Sin City.
"That won't be the last of her," Detective Mangy said watching the human fly slowly disappear with greater distance.
"No, we'll have to pursue her to the ends of the earth to insure the safety of our children," Lion Bree said with new found boldness, "she's a helluva gangsta, exoskeleton pranksta, a wannabe bad girl sucking fun outta the gambluhs -- now she's gone in a flash and in flight, but she'll be back to create another sight. "
"If it's the last thing I do," remarked Captain Tombeau, "I'll see her incarcerated on giant fly paper - and the next to last thing I'd do is make sure Lion never gets a rap contract."
"Let's all head to my mansion and have some coconut cream pie," Mayor Marino remarked, "I have a special recipe I prepare night and day. My home is call the coconut mansion because of the smell. We can have pina coladas too."
Count Beaumont added, "Well, I have come into some money myself. Perhaps we can get some key lime pies as well."
But suddenly Captain Tombeau's police radio suddenly announced an emergency call. A team of highly trained paramilitary types had raided the Police Precinct headquarters and kidnapped Cheetah Kittens. At last sighting, she was being whisked into a plane and flown away....
....Aboard the private jet, Cheetah was furious.
"What the hell are you doing? Once isn't enough? Dont' you think they'll know exactly where to look?" She screamed at Mr. Z.
"No. No one knows I keep a private residence in Key West. You'll be held there until I can figure out my next move. Only this time, there'll be no meddling penguins to help you escape." Mr. Z replied...
...Once they arrived back at precinct headquarters, Lion, Mangy, Mayor Marino, and Count Beaumont were distraught that Cheetah Kittens had, once again, been kidnapped by Mr. Z. And Insecta's disappearance hadn't helped matters. The group decided they'd have to regroup to determine what to do next. But for now, the city of Las Vegas seemed safe for the people once more.
Mangy was especially happy to have time to learn how her new power pumps worked. it would make crime fighting easier and more fashionable. She realized she hadn't had a good latte in a long while but was reassured by the mayor there was a mini-Starbucks inside the Mayor's mansion.
Lion Bree was excited to start his new job as DA of Las Vegas. It didn't hurt that will all the quality time he'd spent with Captain Tombeau that the two of them decided to go on a date the following night.
Count Beaumont wasn't sure what his next move would be. once the adventure had ended, he found himself without an owner and only mangy really had gotten to know him. No doubt Cheetah would never trust him again. Finally, he did the only thing he could think to do.
"Hey guys, it's been a busy investigation. I am sure we could all use a break. I have all this new found money to burn. How about we take a vacation? I've always wanted to visit Key West.......
to be continued Season 2 -- January, 2006
Friday, July 22, 2005
Insecta, Episode 11
Since its my bday weekend, I'm handing this blog over to "The Paul". Here is Episode 11:
Insecta
episode 11
“Count Beaumont hits the big time”
Count Beaumont had fallen off of Detective Mangy’s shoulders in her mad dash to meet up with Insecta. In her adrenaline rush, Mangy hadn’t notice. Beaumont was able to flap his penguin wings well enough to break his fall and not hurt himself. He waddled back to the Strip, uncertain of what else to do. When got to the strip, he went into the Stardust to play slots while he tried to figure out what to do next.
The slot machines slowly siphoned off all his quarters so he took his last $100 and bought in to a poker tournament. After a series of ill-advised all-in bets, he found himself at the final table, much to the chagrin of the other human players. As fate would have it, he quickly won the tournament and found himself $576,000 richer. Count Beaumont began to do his victory jig on the stale, bourbon stained carpet of the casino floor.
Dizzy Tombeau, Lion Bree, and Cheetah Kittens arrived at precinct headquarters, in the mean time. Immediately, Dizzy contacted Detective Mangy and was filled in on the showdown. He told her to hold the injured Insecta until he got there.
Lion Bree noticed a help wanted sign that was posted in the precinct headquarters which read, “Wanted: a decent district attorney to serve Las Vegas.” At first, he thought it funny but then he considered what had happened since his stay in Vegas and begin to feel he could offer the city an added measure of protection having had a first hand experience of what could go wrong on a Vegas vacation.
Cheetah Kittens was surrounded by news reporters who were more than curious as to what had happened to her after her kidnapping and long imprisonment. She quickly re-did her makeup and pinned her showgirl hat back in place.
“All the details will be spelled out in my upcoming book, ‘Caged Cheetah’ and there’ll probably be a movie as well. I could play myself but I think we all know Meryl Streep would be prime for the role,” Cheetah exclaimed, “I was never worried. It was just a matter of finding a way to get out. Count Beaumont, the penguin, was instrumental in my rescue.
Then, out of her new found happiness she began to sing, “Can’t take my eyes off you,” complete with leg kicks at the appropriate places.
Meanwhile, back at the warehouse explosion site, Mangy kept a close eye on the now unconscious Insecta. The villain had begun an unusual morphing process which was covering her skin with a filmy, thick paste. Slowly, it seemed a cocoon was forming around her body.
“It must be some kind of recovery process,” Mangy thought.
She waited, watching the process slowly cover Insecta completely until her body was indistinguishable and only a large, oozing mass remained. At that point, Captain Tombeau arrived.
“what’s that mess?” he asked.
“It’s Insecta. She was injured in the fight we had,” responded Mangy with her hair hanging out of place, scrapes and scratches about her body and her new pumps, scuffed up and torn.
“But she looks like a blob of goo,” Tombeau responded.
“Arrest the blob,” announced Lion Bree, who’d followed behind Tombeau unnoticed. He had taken the application for the District Attorney job and when he turned it in, the Mayor, Spike Marino hired him on the spot.
Mayor Marino wore a tall black top hat to distinguish himself from ordinary citizens. He’d followed Lion to the scene as well to take advantage of the photo ops in all the local papers.
“Yes, yes. We’ve caught the bandit Insecta. Las Vegas is safe once more. Detective Mangy will receive a commendation, Lion Bree is our new district attorney, and Cheetah Kittens is free to entertain once more,” Mayor Marino said smiling to the clicking cameras.
Mr. Z had fled the city in the fracas, uncertain how it would all play out. He was on his personal jet plane when he received all the news.
“That idiot. I should have never trusted Insecta. Cheetah’s free. Beaumont is rich. And Mangy will never marry me,” he said disgruntled, “Pilot, make a course for Key West. I need time to think far away from here.”
And with that, Mr. Z’s plane changed course for the Conch Republic where he kept a lavish home.
Count Beaumont had seen the news on the television in the casino and quickly had a limousine drive him to the scene to reunite with his friends. Needless to say, everyone else was surprised to see the penguin pull up in a limo, get out, and show off his new gold necklace which had giant golden letters spelling out “the Count.”
Once the group was together again, they begin to exchange stories of what had happened and when, to fill each other in. As they spoke, a tentacle begin to puncture through the large, oozing cocoon near where they stood. No one seemed to notice....
As Mr. Z’s plane was turning towards its new destination, he watched the plane’s television as it featured the whole news story of the day’s events. He shook his head in disgust. Suddenly, the t.v. flashed pictures of Cheetah Kittens talking about Mr. Z and his evil plot.
“That looks like precinct headquarters. Only right now, all the cops are out at the scene. Pilot, land this plane. We’re going to Key West, only we have one more passenger to pick up...”
to be continued.
Insecta
episode 11
“Count Beaumont hits the big time”
Count Beaumont had fallen off of Detective Mangy’s shoulders in her mad dash to meet up with Insecta. In her adrenaline rush, Mangy hadn’t notice. Beaumont was able to flap his penguin wings well enough to break his fall and not hurt himself. He waddled back to the Strip, uncertain of what else to do. When got to the strip, he went into the Stardust to play slots while he tried to figure out what to do next.
The slot machines slowly siphoned off all his quarters so he took his last $100 and bought in to a poker tournament. After a series of ill-advised all-in bets, he found himself at the final table, much to the chagrin of the other human players. As fate would have it, he quickly won the tournament and found himself $576,000 richer. Count Beaumont began to do his victory jig on the stale, bourbon stained carpet of the casino floor.
Dizzy Tombeau, Lion Bree, and Cheetah Kittens arrived at precinct headquarters, in the mean time. Immediately, Dizzy contacted Detective Mangy and was filled in on the showdown. He told her to hold the injured Insecta until he got there.
Lion Bree noticed a help wanted sign that was posted in the precinct headquarters which read, “Wanted: a decent district attorney to serve Las Vegas.” At first, he thought it funny but then he considered what had happened since his stay in Vegas and begin to feel he could offer the city an added measure of protection having had a first hand experience of what could go wrong on a Vegas vacation.
Cheetah Kittens was surrounded by news reporters who were more than curious as to what had happened to her after her kidnapping and long imprisonment. She quickly re-did her makeup and pinned her showgirl hat back in place.
“All the details will be spelled out in my upcoming book, ‘Caged Cheetah’ and there’ll probably be a movie as well. I could play myself but I think we all know Meryl Streep would be prime for the role,” Cheetah exclaimed, “I was never worried. It was just a matter of finding a way to get out. Count Beaumont, the penguin, was instrumental in my rescue.
Then, out of her new found happiness she began to sing, “Can’t take my eyes off you,” complete with leg kicks at the appropriate places.
Meanwhile, back at the warehouse explosion site, Mangy kept a close eye on the now unconscious Insecta. The villain had begun an unusual morphing process which was covering her skin with a filmy, thick paste. Slowly, it seemed a cocoon was forming around her body.
“It must be some kind of recovery process,” Mangy thought.
She waited, watching the process slowly cover Insecta completely until her body was indistinguishable and only a large, oozing mass remained. At that point, Captain Tombeau arrived.
“what’s that mess?” he asked.
“It’s Insecta. She was injured in the fight we had,” responded Mangy with her hair hanging out of place, scrapes and scratches about her body and her new pumps, scuffed up and torn.
“But she looks like a blob of goo,” Tombeau responded.
“Arrest the blob,” announced Lion Bree, who’d followed behind Tombeau unnoticed. He had taken the application for the District Attorney job and when he turned it in, the Mayor, Spike Marino hired him on the spot.
Mayor Marino wore a tall black top hat to distinguish himself from ordinary citizens. He’d followed Lion to the scene as well to take advantage of the photo ops in all the local papers.
“Yes, yes. We’ve caught the bandit Insecta. Las Vegas is safe once more. Detective Mangy will receive a commendation, Lion Bree is our new district attorney, and Cheetah Kittens is free to entertain once more,” Mayor Marino said smiling to the clicking cameras.
Mr. Z had fled the city in the fracas, uncertain how it would all play out. He was on his personal jet plane when he received all the news.
“That idiot. I should have never trusted Insecta. Cheetah’s free. Beaumont is rich. And Mangy will never marry me,” he said disgruntled, “Pilot, make a course for Key West. I need time to think far away from here.”
And with that, Mr. Z’s plane changed course for the Conch Republic where he kept a lavish home.
Count Beaumont had seen the news on the television in the casino and quickly had a limousine drive him to the scene to reunite with his friends. Needless to say, everyone else was surprised to see the penguin pull up in a limo, get out, and show off his new gold necklace which had giant golden letters spelling out “the Count.”
Once the group was together again, they begin to exchange stories of what had happened and when, to fill each other in. As they spoke, a tentacle begin to puncture through the large, oozing cocoon near where they stood. No one seemed to notice....
As Mr. Z’s plane was turning towards its new destination, he watched the plane’s television as it featured the whole news story of the day’s events. He shook his head in disgust. Suddenly, the t.v. flashed pictures of Cheetah Kittens talking about Mr. Z and his evil plot.
“That looks like precinct headquarters. Only right now, all the cops are out at the scene. Pilot, land this plane. We’re going to Key West, only we have one more passenger to pick up...”
to be continued.
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
New B-day Challenge
Here is an excerpt of me trying to explain why I can't find a restaurant for GBAS:
well, my family is italian and loud... my father can't hear anything but gets angry when you tell him that... my mother is VERY loud. my sister spends her time flirting w/whoever the waiter is... to block it all out i spend my time sampling each of the drink specials... my brother, embarrassed and ashamed by us all, sits quietly in a corner.... picture the griswolds... my family is the closest non-fictional version of them you would ever meet. so, while i'd love to take them to a place i'd love to eat at... it would have to be someplace accepting of a loud family... i'm kind of leaning towards annie's, but i don't know if my family will be able to behave when in a room entirely comprised of homosexual men. and i'd really love to go back to rosa mexicano, but that's a rather large bill for my father to foot (and my sister has the awful habit of ordering the most expensive thing on the menu, then saying she's not hungry... which causes the vein in my dad's forehead to pulse.)
Response:
Though...you'd have a hell of a blog entry about yer fam @ Annies. Your sister hitting on a waiter who's hitting on your dad - priceless.
I know, you all are hoping I'll chose Annie's also... but, I do live here! So, it looks like mexican it is.
well, my family is italian and loud... my father can't hear anything but gets angry when you tell him that... my mother is VERY loud. my sister spends her time flirting w/whoever the waiter is... to block it all out i spend my time sampling each of the drink specials... my brother, embarrassed and ashamed by us all, sits quietly in a corner.... picture the griswolds... my family is the closest non-fictional version of them you would ever meet. so, while i'd love to take them to a place i'd love to eat at... it would have to be someplace accepting of a loud family... i'm kind of leaning towards annie's, but i don't know if my family will be able to behave when in a room entirely comprised of homosexual men. and i'd really love to go back to rosa mexicano, but that's a rather large bill for my father to foot (and my sister has the awful habit of ordering the most expensive thing on the menu, then saying she's not hungry... which causes the vein in my dad's forehead to pulse.)
Response:
Though...you'd have a hell of a blog entry about yer fam @ Annies. Your sister hitting on a waiter who's hitting on your dad - priceless.
I know, you all are hoping I'll chose Annie's also... but, I do live here! So, it looks like mexican it is.
Saturday, July 16, 2005
GBAS
I was in 5th grade when GBAS (Gina's Birthday Always Sucks) began. I decided to have a mini-golf party at my favorite Old Pro golf course (for those of you who remember it was the one with the Western and Circus sides... ah I miss mini-golf). Anyway, I chose Western and had hit my first hole in one at Hole 16, the one w/the water wheel. It was taking everyone else forever and I was getting bored, so I decided to play w/the water and then eventually, the water wheel. Only my club got stuck in the wheel and while trying to pull it out, I managed to fall on a giant rock, which tore up a huge gash on my leg thus causing me to bleed profusely. I however didn't notice until I saw my mother's face turn white as she stared down at my leg.
Bleeding all over the car and hearing (What did you do! How could you do this to yourself! And on your birthday!) over and over and over again, my parents start debating about taking me to the hospital. Now these were the pre-Utie days, and I was terrified of needles (I'd pass out anytime one was near me... who would know years later I'd be giving myself shots).. so I begged and pleaded to not go to the hospital for stitches... My parents, uneager to spend 4 hours in an ER, conceeded and we went home were i kept pressure on my leg for the rest of the night (yahoo... happy bday to me).
There began the curse of GBAS. A few years came and go, and I turn 16. My parents try to surprise me with a party and chartered a sailboat on the cheaspeake for the day. The night before, my boyfriend at the time came over to celebrate my birthday. When he left, he said, I'll see you tomorrow. Lucky me, sweet 16, all my friends, my boy, ahhh la dolce vita.
The next day, excitedly I sat waiting at the door for my boyfriend, like a dog staring out the front window for the postman. We needed to leave for Havre De Grace by 9 am to make the boat.... and everyone was supposed to meet us at 8 am. At 9:30 am, my parents push me into the car because they know, he's not coming. While my friends helped me to shake it off and we managed to enjoy sailing on the bay, being stood up on your sweet 16, is possibly one of the most dejected feelings in the world. (and to add insult to injury, when he made an attempt to apologize, he said "come on, you know I love you, Sharon", this would be his other girlfriend, but that would be more clearer later)
When I turned 19, my parents decided to take a trip cross country to Colorado... which unfortunately coincided with my birthday. No problem, I said, go enjoy yourself. Well, apparently they did enjoy themselves to the point where they forgot my birthday entirely.. until my grandmother called and started yelling at them for forgetting my birthday.
Now full of guilt, my parents decide to make up for this by throwing me a 2 week late birthday party. I pull up to my house and see balloons tied to the front door (aww, typical for my mother to do)... As I get closer to the door, I realize... these balloons say Happy Birthday! (nice touch)...
wait a second...
Happy Birthday, Jonathan!?
Who the f*** is Jonathan!
I storm in the door.
My mother: Happy birthday, honey!
Me: My birthday was almost 3 weeks ago.
My mother: Well, I know but you could pretend.
Me: Who is Jonathan?
My mother: I don't know, who is Jonathan.
Me: Whosever is celebrating a birthday here.
My mother (blank Polish stare)
Me: THE NAME on the BALLOONS says Jonathan
My mother: uh oh! I went to buy them w/o my glasses. Whoops!
Strike 2 on the family... but this birthday didn't end here.
Out comes the cake... after blowing out the candles, I realize the name on the cake... Happy Birthday Gina Maria. WHAT?!
Me: Does anyone see what is wrong with this cake?
Family: No.
Me: I'm not positive, but I'm pretty sure my name is Gina Marie.
Family: Oops. See we brought the first cake out but Dad accidentally dropped it. So, we had to go buy another one after dinner.
They then proceed to serve the mushed cake also.
Now, in between these birthdays, my friends begin to catch on that I'm no longer a fan of the day and try to remedy that (bless all their hearts) by throwing an annual summer/gina b-day party. Schmeffy kicked off the ritual with a blow-out party that unfortunately due to a vodka shot accident, i only saw 15 minutes of... and onward it went. It made the birthdays get easier and my 21st was possibly the most fun I ever had (but that's to be expected when you spend 4 days drinking, going in a limo to ac, and great concerts)...
But, my parents still managed to prevail with the awful birthdays. In fact, thinking it was kind of funny that they screwed up my birthdays, they started doing "jokes"... one year they wrapped up my brother's sheets as a gift, another they sent me flowers to "Gino".... one year they took me to a mexican restaurant and forced me to wear a birthday cake balloon tiara which i was only allowed to take off until the giant sombrero was placed on my head for pictures and cake.
I'm a good sport, but the problem is that in addition to the "jokes", they still managed to screw up my birthday. One year my dad accidentally wrapped make-up my mother bought for herself... and then the first present I did open was the bonus gift from her purchase (which I gave back)...
So, every year, I get to wait and see what the unintended joke will be.... this year, I was hoping to duck all this by staying in DC for the weekend.. but no, they're coming here instead.... and you will all get to hear the story, in 8 short days.
Smooch,
G
Bleeding all over the car and hearing (What did you do! How could you do this to yourself! And on your birthday!) over and over and over again, my parents start debating about taking me to the hospital. Now these were the pre-Utie days, and I was terrified of needles (I'd pass out anytime one was near me... who would know years later I'd be giving myself shots).. so I begged and pleaded to not go to the hospital for stitches... My parents, uneager to spend 4 hours in an ER, conceeded and we went home were i kept pressure on my leg for the rest of the night (yahoo... happy bday to me).
There began the curse of GBAS. A few years came and go, and I turn 16. My parents try to surprise me with a party and chartered a sailboat on the cheaspeake for the day. The night before, my boyfriend at the time came over to celebrate my birthday. When he left, he said, I'll see you tomorrow. Lucky me, sweet 16, all my friends, my boy, ahhh la dolce vita.
The next day, excitedly I sat waiting at the door for my boyfriend, like a dog staring out the front window for the postman. We needed to leave for Havre De Grace by 9 am to make the boat.... and everyone was supposed to meet us at 8 am. At 9:30 am, my parents push me into the car because they know, he's not coming. While my friends helped me to shake it off and we managed to enjoy sailing on the bay, being stood up on your sweet 16, is possibly one of the most dejected feelings in the world. (and to add insult to injury, when he made an attempt to apologize, he said "come on, you know I love you, Sharon", this would be his other girlfriend, but that would be more clearer later)
When I turned 19, my parents decided to take a trip cross country to Colorado... which unfortunately coincided with my birthday. No problem, I said, go enjoy yourself. Well, apparently they did enjoy themselves to the point where they forgot my birthday entirely.. until my grandmother called and started yelling at them for forgetting my birthday.
Now full of guilt, my parents decide to make up for this by throwing me a 2 week late birthday party. I pull up to my house and see balloons tied to the front door (aww, typical for my mother to do)... As I get closer to the door, I realize... these balloons say Happy Birthday! (nice touch)...
wait a second...
Happy Birthday, Jonathan!?
Who the f*** is Jonathan!
I storm in the door.
My mother: Happy birthday, honey!
Me: My birthday was almost 3 weeks ago.
My mother: Well, I know but you could pretend.
Me: Who is Jonathan?
My mother: I don't know, who is Jonathan.
Me: Whosever is celebrating a birthday here.
My mother (blank Polish stare)
Me: THE NAME on the BALLOONS says Jonathan
My mother: uh oh! I went to buy them w/o my glasses. Whoops!
Strike 2 on the family... but this birthday didn't end here.
Out comes the cake... after blowing out the candles, I realize the name on the cake... Happy Birthday Gina Maria. WHAT?!
Me: Does anyone see what is wrong with this cake?
Family: No.
Me: I'm not positive, but I'm pretty sure my name is Gina Marie.
Family: Oops. See we brought the first cake out but Dad accidentally dropped it. So, we had to go buy another one after dinner.
They then proceed to serve the mushed cake also.
Now, in between these birthdays, my friends begin to catch on that I'm no longer a fan of the day and try to remedy that (bless all their hearts) by throwing an annual summer/gina b-day party. Schmeffy kicked off the ritual with a blow-out party that unfortunately due to a vodka shot accident, i only saw 15 minutes of... and onward it went. It made the birthdays get easier and my 21st was possibly the most fun I ever had (but that's to be expected when you spend 4 days drinking, going in a limo to ac, and great concerts)...
But, my parents still managed to prevail with the awful birthdays. In fact, thinking it was kind of funny that they screwed up my birthdays, they started doing "jokes"... one year they wrapped up my brother's sheets as a gift, another they sent me flowers to "Gino".... one year they took me to a mexican restaurant and forced me to wear a birthday cake balloon tiara which i was only allowed to take off until the giant sombrero was placed on my head for pictures and cake.
I'm a good sport, but the problem is that in addition to the "jokes", they still managed to screw up my birthday. One year my dad accidentally wrapped make-up my mother bought for herself... and then the first present I did open was the bonus gift from her purchase (which I gave back)...
So, every year, I get to wait and see what the unintended joke will be.... this year, I was hoping to duck all this by staying in DC for the weekend.. but no, they're coming here instead.... and you will all get to hear the story, in 8 short days.
Smooch,
G
Friday, July 15, 2005
And you think I exaggerate...
I'm often told by my friends that if they didn't know me, they'd think I make stuff up when I talk about things like my crazy family and various adventures. I'm going to prove to you why this blog writes itself with one of many examples. Below is a letter from my dog, Lucky re: her birthday sent from my mother's email account. See kids, I'm not the only crazy one.
To all it may concern:
After much thought and deliberation, Lucky has decided to share her birthday ,which is August 4th, wish list with her family. The following items will make her birthday dreams and wishes come true:
1. Tea Tree bath at Jake's Dog House
2. Jake's Dog House special massage
3. Squeaky, annoying expensive toys
4. Einstein's Doggie bagels
5. Pig's ears
6. Home made dog cookies
Love and a big lick to all, especially Casey and Bella.
Lucky
Now, being a part of my family for almost 29 years, I wasn't phased by the letter. I was pissed that my own dog tried to outshine my birthday next week but sending her wish list before my birthday. This is all part of an annual ritual that started many many years ago called Gina's Birthday Always Sucks (GBAS, for short). Being that it is almost a week until my birthday, looks like I will be dedicating the next week to stories of GBAS.
Look for them soon.
Smooch,
G
To all it may concern:
After much thought and deliberation, Lucky has decided to share her birthday ,which is August 4th, wish list with her family. The following items will make her birthday dreams and wishes come true:
1. Tea Tree bath at Jake's Dog House
2. Jake's Dog House special massage
3. Squeaky, annoying expensive toys
4. Einstein's Doggie bagels
5. Pig's ears
6. Home made dog cookies
Love and a big lick to all, especially Casey and Bella.
Lucky
Now, being a part of my family for almost 29 years, I wasn't phased by the letter. I was pissed that my own dog tried to outshine my birthday next week but sending her wish list before my birthday. This is all part of an annual ritual that started many many years ago called Gina's Birthday Always Sucks (GBAS, for short). Being that it is almost a week until my birthday, looks like I will be dedicating the next week to stories of GBAS.
Look for them soon.
Smooch,
G
Monday, July 11, 2005
I have a short cut!
Ah, yes... recovering from vacation and have yet another story of me and my pop. I hear their among the most popular portions of this site... I also hear that I have some new fans in the NYC area... hello all!
Well, I read that a family vacation makes you realize that your job isn't that bad... pretty accurate, but I can't complain too much... all in all in was a great week, i played my three favorite sports skeeball, pool and poker, took a friend's niece on lil amusement park rides (finally, they let me on without the weird look), ate way too many carbs (sorry bob, i had a meltdown involving both pizza and margaritas.. which boiled over to brownies and french fries), saw my favorite (and only) godson and all my favorite jerseyians... in short, there is no real need to celebrate my birthday this year, I pretty much did everything i'd want to do this past week.
But, this isn't about me, this is a tribute to my dad, who's birthday happens to be July 4th. Nice digs if you can get it, free fireworks every year.
My dad is pretty good at alot of stuff.. he's a dad, that's his job. One irk is that he drives 90 miles out of the way to save 5 cents a gallon on gas. One skill he feels is his "claim to fame" would be the shortcut. Right now, some of you may know where this is headed.. having the kind of "the shortcut" type of dads.
Well, having to get to the shore via DC, is pretty new to me, so I relied on dad (who thinks yahoo maps was invented by the devil) to provide me with directions to get to the good ol' beach.
Me: So, can I have the directions?
Dad: No problem, I have a shortcut.
Me: Dad, this isn't one of those backroads that is taking me out of my way.
Dad (huff): G**Damnit GinaMarie (ah, full name), I'm just trying to help.. you don't want my directions, you find your own way.
Me: Ok. sorry Daddy... can I have the directions please?
So, he gives me the directions (rt. 40 to rt. 50)... they sound like highways.... I hop in my car at 11:45 and by 1 PM (yes, I do remember I just paid for a speeding ticket) I'm crossing the Delaware Memorial Bridge (and once again, thanks a latte Delaware for sucking a 1/2 hour of my day for a trip that should take under 5 minutes).
Ah, I should be at the beach in enough time to catch some rays! As I cross into my former garden state home, I seen and follow the signs for Rt. 40. I'm cruising along and then it happens... the "highway" drops to one lane either direction. What?! Clearly while rocking along to Melissa's fantastic Old Skool Rap Mix (including such oldies as Just a Friend by Biz Markie, Bust a Move, and Parents Just Don't Understand), I have reached the wrong road. I grab my cell phone and make a stat speaker phone (hands free for safety) to Dad.
Dad: Hello?
Me: Dad, I think I may have taken a wrong turn.
Dad: Did you not follow the directions I gave you?
Me: Yes, I did. But I'm now on a one lane road.
Dad: That's right.
Me: What?
Dad: Its one lane.
Me: For how long? 5 miles?
Dad: I have no idea I've never gone that way.
Me: WHAT!? I thought you said you knew a shortcut?
Dad: Yes, GinaMarie (this is dad code for skating on thin ice) that is what the map said. It should be another seven*** (cell phone static) miles
Me: 7 miles?
Dad: No, no, 70 miles.
Me: WHAT? are you freaking crazy? 70 miles? The speed limit on this road is 25 miles/hour! I'll be in OC by July 4th!
Dad: You know what, I've just about had it with you kids. You find your own way.
(click, phone goes dead)
So, I'm on my own through the depths of South Jersey. Now, I lived in the NYC area for 6 years and never truly understood when people made fun of "South Jersey". South Jersey folk, I'm here to tell you that, there does indeed exist a depth of SJ. It involves things as follows: a rodeo, a corner store (entitled, Corner Store), a tavern (named Red Tavern, because, yes its red), the Long Wait Ranch and my favorite, a bank (called, yes, The Bank, although I'm told its an up and coming chain).
Possibly the worst aspect of the trip is that the top is still down and I can smell my burning flesh through the hazy sun. But, onward, I continue through the "depths of South Jersey" fully understanding the Zoolander reference of the coal mines.
Yes, 2 hours later and with the skin left only on my back, I arrive at the shore house. Pop gives me a look and says "See, I told you there would be less traffic that way." Yes, despite the truck holding back the 27 cars in front of me... it took only 3 1/2 hours to get to my destination.
But that's dads for ya, always have the better way. So, with this I bid you all good night and wish my dad the happiest of bdays. I wished him this also over my 6th mimosa at the Trump Marina breakfast buffet... he seemed less happy about that, but did manage to point me towards the $5 hold'em table.
Smooch,
G
Well, I read that a family vacation makes you realize that your job isn't that bad... pretty accurate, but I can't complain too much... all in all in was a great week, i played my three favorite sports skeeball, pool and poker, took a friend's niece on lil amusement park rides (finally, they let me on without the weird look), ate way too many carbs (sorry bob, i had a meltdown involving both pizza and margaritas.. which boiled over to brownies and french fries), saw my favorite (and only) godson and all my favorite jerseyians... in short, there is no real need to celebrate my birthday this year, I pretty much did everything i'd want to do this past week.
But, this isn't about me, this is a tribute to my dad, who's birthday happens to be July 4th. Nice digs if you can get it, free fireworks every year.
My dad is pretty good at alot of stuff.. he's a dad, that's his job. One irk is that he drives 90 miles out of the way to save 5 cents a gallon on gas. One skill he feels is his "claim to fame" would be the shortcut. Right now, some of you may know where this is headed.. having the kind of "the shortcut" type of dads.
Well, having to get to the shore via DC, is pretty new to me, so I relied on dad (who thinks yahoo maps was invented by the devil) to provide me with directions to get to the good ol' beach.
Me: So, can I have the directions?
Dad: No problem, I have a shortcut.
Me: Dad, this isn't one of those backroads that is taking me out of my way.
Dad (huff): G**Damnit GinaMarie (ah, full name), I'm just trying to help.. you don't want my directions, you find your own way.
Me: Ok. sorry Daddy... can I have the directions please?
So, he gives me the directions (rt. 40 to rt. 50)... they sound like highways.... I hop in my car at 11:45 and by 1 PM (yes, I do remember I just paid for a speeding ticket) I'm crossing the Delaware Memorial Bridge (and once again, thanks a latte Delaware for sucking a 1/2 hour of my day for a trip that should take under 5 minutes).
Ah, I should be at the beach in enough time to catch some rays! As I cross into my former garden state home, I seen and follow the signs for Rt. 40. I'm cruising along and then it happens... the "highway" drops to one lane either direction. What?! Clearly while rocking along to Melissa's fantastic Old Skool Rap Mix (including such oldies as Just a Friend by Biz Markie, Bust a Move, and Parents Just Don't Understand), I have reached the wrong road. I grab my cell phone and make a stat speaker phone (hands free for safety) to Dad.
Dad: Hello?
Me: Dad, I think I may have taken a wrong turn.
Dad: Did you not follow the directions I gave you?
Me: Yes, I did. But I'm now on a one lane road.
Dad: That's right.
Me: What?
Dad: Its one lane.
Me: For how long? 5 miles?
Dad: I have no idea I've never gone that way.
Me: WHAT!? I thought you said you knew a shortcut?
Dad: Yes, GinaMarie (this is dad code for skating on thin ice) that is what the map said. It should be another seven*** (cell phone static) miles
Me: 7 miles?
Dad: No, no, 70 miles.
Me: WHAT? are you freaking crazy? 70 miles? The speed limit on this road is 25 miles/hour! I'll be in OC by July 4th!
Dad: You know what, I've just about had it with you kids. You find your own way.
(click, phone goes dead)
So, I'm on my own through the depths of South Jersey. Now, I lived in the NYC area for 6 years and never truly understood when people made fun of "South Jersey". South Jersey folk, I'm here to tell you that, there does indeed exist a depth of SJ. It involves things as follows: a rodeo, a corner store (entitled, Corner Store), a tavern (named Red Tavern, because, yes its red), the Long Wait Ranch and my favorite, a bank (called, yes, The Bank, although I'm told its an up and coming chain).
Possibly the worst aspect of the trip is that the top is still down and I can smell my burning flesh through the hazy sun. But, onward, I continue through the "depths of South Jersey" fully understanding the Zoolander reference of the coal mines.
Yes, 2 hours later and with the skin left only on my back, I arrive at the shore house. Pop gives me a look and says "See, I told you there would be less traffic that way." Yes, despite the truck holding back the 27 cars in front of me... it took only 3 1/2 hours to get to my destination.
But that's dads for ya, always have the better way. So, with this I bid you all good night and wish my dad the happiest of bdays. I wished him this also over my 6th mimosa at the Trump Marina breakfast buffet... he seemed less happy about that, but did manage to point me towards the $5 hold'em table.
Smooch,
G
Sunday, July 10, 2005
i'm backkkkk
hello all...
well i'm back in the south after a week in nj.. i apologize for not having the time to write, but i wanted to let you know, i've heard all about how you've been missing the blog.. so i'm going to catch up this week...
stay tuned for my july 4th, taste of americana and ode to my dad tribute"real" south jersey.
smooch,
G
well i'm back in the south after a week in nj.. i apologize for not having the time to write, but i wanted to let you know, i've heard all about how you've been missing the blog.. so i'm going to catch up this week...
stay tuned for my july 4th, taste of americana and ode to my dad tribute"real" south jersey.
smooch,
G
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