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
Friday, July 29, 2005
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
Thursday, June 30, 2005
three strikes, time to go on hiatus
Well, I'm licking my wounds and heading to Jersey. This time, I didn't even get to the date part... and y'all will see why. Hope you enjoy this blog, I'll be taking a break, while I'm taking a break.
Smooch,
G
Me: did i tell you about cheap guy?
schmeffy: no.
Me: ok, this older guy asked me to go out for a picnic
schmeffy: ok
Me: never talked to him or anything.. maybe 5 sentences via email.. so, i didn't exactly feel comfortable mtg. someone in the park
schmeffy: uhhhuh.
Me: especially the same one chandra levy disappeared from
schmeffy: oh shit..
Me: anyway... i ask if we can meet for a drink somewhere instead... i say "a drink or something" and he says "it would have to be or something since i've been spending way too much lately"...i respond (jokingly) w/ "oh did you go all-in or something?"... and he says "no, on dates and stuff"....EW
schmeffy: oh christ!
Me: oh yea, it gets better... so he emails me again today asking me out when i get back... i say touch base w/me when i get back and he responds w/you don't sound to psyched... i'm about to write him a 5 point email explaining why, i guess this will be blogworthy, huh?
schmeffy: yep.
Me: THE NERVE! cheap bastard
schmeffy: least that explains the picnic... you should actually school these morons..
Me: how sad is life when my best prospect is a 24 yr old REPUBLICAN
Me: AHH... nunnery here i come
schmeffy: time gina...just time...
Me: me, my 12 cats, 4 dogs and school of pigeons
Me: ok, you ready?
schmeffy: uhhuh
Me: well, that would probably be for several reasons:
1. when you mentioned you'd be spending too much money on "dates and stuff" lately, it really didn't seem that you had too much interest in getting together.
2. i don't really feel like i've had much interaction with you at all. i haven't so much as talked to you on the phone. pardon the paranoid new yorker in me, but that's a little disconcerting.
3. not to group you into a category but in addition to issues 1 and 2, i have been on some horrible dates since i arrived here, so i'm a little gunshy about the whole prospect.
Me: i'm clicking send, unless you convince me otherwise
schmeffy: what about the picnic part?
Me: oh i told him i was busy
schmeffy: i think its good...i think you should add...
Me: Bite me?
schmeffy: well, as long as you are being honest...
schmeffy: the busy part...not the bite me part...
Me: eh
schmeffy: yeah...you got to school these kids.
schmeffy: most men obviously just dont get it.
Me: i'd like to meet you in a dark alley
schmeffy: hehehee...
Me: man, i haven't even went on a date w/this guy and he made a blog entry
Smooch,
G
Me: did i tell you about cheap guy?
schmeffy: no.
Me: ok, this older guy asked me to go out for a picnic
schmeffy: ok
Me: never talked to him or anything.. maybe 5 sentences via email.. so, i didn't exactly feel comfortable mtg. someone in the park
schmeffy: uhhhuh.
Me: especially the same one chandra levy disappeared from
schmeffy: oh shit..
Me: anyway... i ask if we can meet for a drink somewhere instead... i say "a drink or something" and he says "it would have to be or something since i've been spending way too much lately"...i respond (jokingly) w/ "oh did you go all-in or something?"... and he says "no, on dates and stuff"....EW
schmeffy: oh christ!
Me: oh yea, it gets better... so he emails me again today asking me out when i get back... i say touch base w/me when i get back and he responds w/you don't sound to psyched... i'm about to write him a 5 point email explaining why, i guess this will be blogworthy, huh?
schmeffy: yep.
Me: THE NERVE! cheap bastard
schmeffy: least that explains the picnic... you should actually school these morons..
Me: how sad is life when my best prospect is a 24 yr old REPUBLICAN
Me: AHH... nunnery here i come
schmeffy: time gina...just time...
Me: me, my 12 cats, 4 dogs and school of pigeons
Me: ok, you ready?
schmeffy: uhhuh
Me: well, that would probably be for several reasons:
1. when you mentioned you'd be spending too much money on "dates and stuff" lately, it really didn't seem that you had too much interest in getting together.
2. i don't really feel like i've had much interaction with you at all. i haven't so much as talked to you on the phone. pardon the paranoid new yorker in me, but that's a little disconcerting.
3. not to group you into a category but in addition to issues 1 and 2, i have been on some horrible dates since i arrived here, so i'm a little gunshy about the whole prospect.
Me: i'm clicking send, unless you convince me otherwise
schmeffy: what about the picnic part?
Me: oh i told him i was busy
schmeffy: i think its good...i think you should add...
Me: Bite me?
schmeffy: well, as long as you are being honest...
schmeffy: the busy part...not the bite me part...
Me: eh
schmeffy: yeah...you got to school these kids.
schmeffy: most men obviously just dont get it.
Me: i'd like to meet you in a dark alley
schmeffy: hehehee...
Me: man, i haven't even went on a date w/this guy and he made a blog entry
Monday, June 27, 2005
correction
the good thing about having the same friends for years on end is when your memory is impaired, you have back-up memory:
schmeffy: yea, i saw the update last night. the stories seem a little muddled though...
Me: muddled?... help me here
schmeffy: well you left out the part about how you caught fire.
ok, let's stop right here. yes, indeed, i forgot to talk about how i set myself on fire. i was slightly inebriated on a couch when someone had me hold a cigarette for them and i flicked it, and through some bizarre act of the cosmos, the cherry landed down my t-shirt, and onto my back... where,since i was slightly impaired, i didn't happen to notice until I felt a burning sensation boring a hole into my into my back. Realizing, I was on fire, I began to say so (and my room full of drunken pals were hysterical laughing because they thought i was joking) and then did what I was taught--stopped, dropped and rolled. When I was finished, my friends saw the hole burned in my back and still laughing, proceeded to give me the menthol ice sunburn reliever, which felt like the burning of Atlanta on my spine. But moving back to today's convo w/Schmeffy:
schmeffy: it was me that did the dousing....
Me: IT WAS YOU... i didn't know that
schmeffy: uh..
Me: YOU DICK!
schmeffy: i had to do something. you were out cold. on fire. and your parents were there...or on the phone i mean.
Me: 11 years later you tell me it was you that threw that water on me.... oh great, wait till i start revealing things in 9 more years... i'm going to make my own time capsule so i remember
schmeffy: and i thought the conversation was a little different.
schmeffy: as in 'are they smoking grass in the backyard' , no mom, you know the backyard is all stone.'
on vol. 2, treats and eats (sorry Russ!)
schmeffy: oh, and you left the part out in the other one that you were practically chewing on my foot when you got the phone call from your parents...
schmeffy: which i always thought was the funniest part.
Me: my god you have a great memory
Me: you were there?
Me: ah, yes you were
schmeffy: yeah...sleeping toe to head with you... with my foot in your face.
Me: that's gross
schmeffy: isnt that the same night that russ almost burnt down your shower?
Me: was that the same night that someone was hiding in the bathtub and we ... right... threw the lit cigarettes at the tub
schmeffy: put holes in the curtain with cigars...
Me: RIGHT
schmeffy: yea, same weekend.
Me: i believe we said "fire in the hole?"
schmeffy: uhuh.
Me: who was back there anyway that we tried to set fire to?
schmeffy: russ.
schmeffy: well russ was involved anyway...
Me: with friends like us
schmeffy: have insurance.
schmeffy: yea, i saw the update last night. the stories seem a little muddled though...
Me: muddled?... help me here
schmeffy: well you left out the part about how you caught fire.
ok, let's stop right here. yes, indeed, i forgot to talk about how i set myself on fire. i was slightly inebriated on a couch when someone had me hold a cigarette for them and i flicked it, and through some bizarre act of the cosmos, the cherry landed down my t-shirt, and onto my back... where,since i was slightly impaired, i didn't happen to notice until I felt a burning sensation boring a hole into my into my back. Realizing, I was on fire, I began to say so (and my room full of drunken pals were hysterical laughing because they thought i was joking) and then did what I was taught--stopped, dropped and rolled. When I was finished, my friends saw the hole burned in my back and still laughing, proceeded to give me the menthol ice sunburn reliever, which felt like the burning of Atlanta on my spine. But moving back to today's convo w/Schmeffy:
schmeffy: it was me that did the dousing....
Me: IT WAS YOU... i didn't know that
schmeffy: uh..
Me: YOU DICK!
schmeffy: i had to do something. you were out cold. on fire. and your parents were there...or on the phone i mean.
Me: 11 years later you tell me it was you that threw that water on me.... oh great, wait till i start revealing things in 9 more years... i'm going to make my own time capsule so i remember
schmeffy: and i thought the conversation was a little different.
schmeffy: as in 'are they smoking grass in the backyard' , no mom, you know the backyard is all stone.'
on vol. 2, treats and eats (sorry Russ!)
schmeffy: oh, and you left the part out in the other one that you were practically chewing on my foot when you got the phone call from your parents...
schmeffy: which i always thought was the funniest part.
Me: my god you have a great memory
Me: you were there?
Me: ah, yes you were
schmeffy: yeah...sleeping toe to head with you... with my foot in your face.
Me: that's gross
schmeffy: isnt that the same night that russ almost burnt down your shower?
Me: was that the same night that someone was hiding in the bathtub and we ... right... threw the lit cigarettes at the tub
schmeffy: put holes in the curtain with cigars...
Me: RIGHT
schmeffy: yea, same weekend.
Me: i believe we said "fire in the hole?"
schmeffy: uhuh.
Me: who was back there anyway that we tried to set fire to?
schmeffy: russ.
schmeffy: well russ was involved anyway...
Me: with friends like us
schmeffy: have insurance.
take the good, take the bad
On a sad note, my doctor dumped me this week. At least he broke up with me over the phone, not on my voicemail. Fear not, I have another local-area doc, but after 12 years and 5 surgeries, you grow close to someone.
On a happy note, I have officially passed my final rite of passage as the official godmother of a Skabich child and celebrated Melissa's bday. Not by christening Mr. Christopher Andrew or by sending her a card, but by saving 48% on my grocery bill.
Hope all is well and I'll see you Jersey folks in 5 days.
Smooch,
G
On a happy note, I have officially passed my final rite of passage as the official godmother of a Skabich child and celebrated Melissa's bday. Not by christening Mr. Christopher Andrew or by sending her a card, but by saving 48% on my grocery bill.
Hope all is well and I'll see you Jersey folks in 5 days.
Smooch,
G
Sunday, June 26, 2005
MMM.. Tasty Treats and Good Eats
The reason why I chose to go to my college was simple... 1. it was an hour away from my home and 2. I could keep my car there.
You would think when you're an hour away from your parents, they'd be less eager to visit you, but it actually invokes something else I was unaware of, The Suprise Visit.
Since, I didn't learn my lesson at my stoned shore house, my parents took it upon themselves to provide "spot inspections" to test my sobriety on a Sunday morning. In their defense, several of the inspections were actually scheduled, but they called at a time when coherency was unavailable.
However, after having a large group of friends come visit for the weekend, I raise my sleepy, hungover head to hear the phone ring. Stepping on roughly 4 people passed out on my floor, I hear the grating "SUPRISE! We're about a 1/2 hour away! We're going to have lunch!"
Now, as you former college kids will appreciate, cash was scarce and the cafeteria food did things to my GI system that I'll never be able to repair, so my parents knew the only reason I couldn't freak out was for a free meal.
Attempting to throw out 6 people draped in various crevices in my dorm room, I begin to realize that not only my head is slowly exploding, but my stomach also has decided to join in the fun. I spend the next half hour where I spent alot of my college career, curled up with a pillow laying against the cool porcelain.
As I hear the phone ring and my roommate open the bathroom door to get me, I have no idea how I'm going to get through this meal.
And there they come, chipper as ever, bouncing up the stairs, as I rest my head against the cinderblock wall.
Parents (irritatingly chipper): "You ready to go!?"
Me (ow, my head): "Um, uh, yea, but I just ate at the cafeteria, so I'm not sure I'm exactly hungry."
(first mistake)
Parents: "But you never make breakfast there, were you up early?"
Me (crap): "Yep. Couldn't sleep."
Parents (Clearly possessing a dog-like sense of sniffing out my fear and lies): Well, we're starved so lets go.
Dad accidentally hits a few speed bumps off campus a bit hard as I sit in the back of the SUV with little shocks and try to reason that if necessary I can swallow my own vomit.
After a few more bumps and quick breaks, we arrive at the diner. This is where my parents turn from cruel to all out evil.
Mom: MMMM.. everything looks so good, what are you going to have?
Me: I'm really not that hungry.... a diet coke would be great.
Mom: Come on, this food looks delicious... what about a juicy burger?
Me (please, God, please help me): Um.. maybe in a second.
Mom: Well, I think I'm going to have the seafood bisque... sounds great. (note: she fully knows that i despise seafood and can't bare the sight or smell of it on a good day, let alone a bad one)
Dad: That does sound great... I think I'm going to try a Gyro and some onion rings
(please, just put me out of my misery)
My mother's soup arrives at the table as I slowly sip by diet coke.
The soup reeks like a dock and even better, its orange.. but not just orange, pinkish orange... maybe a slight tinge off the soup I had made earlier in the day. They ignore the slightly audible groan as I chew on my straw for dear life, when out comes my dad's gyro. I watch as all the ingredients of the gyro begin to drip out as he takes a bite.
Dad: You want some?
Me (focus on his eyes, you can't actually smell the soup): um, no...
Dad: mmm.. but its so good (takes a bite and shoves the half eaten gyro under my nose)
(ooh, ow)
At the same time, my mom begins to slurp her soup like a nursing home patient who forgot her dentures in her room. Then she accidentally gets some to run down her chin.
(Like I said people, cruel to sheer evil).
This being the last straw, I excuse myself and bolt to the bathroom where I manage to replicate the color of their lunches in the bathroom. (pretty good for not eating, right?)
I come back, white as my napkin and they exhange a brief smirking glance.
Mom: Maybe next time, you shouldn't drink so much, huh?
Me: What are you talking about?
Dad: Right, Gina. How about a saltine to help?
Dag, I was snagged. Three years later (when I became legal), they would recount this tale gleefully and admit their tortureous ways.
Moral of the story: Parents can be very very cruel to teach you a lesson.
You would think when you're an hour away from your parents, they'd be less eager to visit you, but it actually invokes something else I was unaware of, The Suprise Visit.
Since, I didn't learn my lesson at my stoned shore house, my parents took it upon themselves to provide "spot inspections" to test my sobriety on a Sunday morning. In their defense, several of the inspections were actually scheduled, but they called at a time when coherency was unavailable.
However, after having a large group of friends come visit for the weekend, I raise my sleepy, hungover head to hear the phone ring. Stepping on roughly 4 people passed out on my floor, I hear the grating "SUPRISE! We're about a 1/2 hour away! We're going to have lunch!"
Now, as you former college kids will appreciate, cash was scarce and the cafeteria food did things to my GI system that I'll never be able to repair, so my parents knew the only reason I couldn't freak out was for a free meal.
Attempting to throw out 6 people draped in various crevices in my dorm room, I begin to realize that not only my head is slowly exploding, but my stomach also has decided to join in the fun. I spend the next half hour where I spent alot of my college career, curled up with a pillow laying against the cool porcelain.
As I hear the phone ring and my roommate open the bathroom door to get me, I have no idea how I'm going to get through this meal.
And there they come, chipper as ever, bouncing up the stairs, as I rest my head against the cinderblock wall.
Parents (irritatingly chipper): "You ready to go!?"
Me (ow, my head): "Um, uh, yea, but I just ate at the cafeteria, so I'm not sure I'm exactly hungry."
(first mistake)
Parents: "But you never make breakfast there, were you up early?"
Me (crap): "Yep. Couldn't sleep."
Parents (Clearly possessing a dog-like sense of sniffing out my fear and lies): Well, we're starved so lets go.
Dad accidentally hits a few speed bumps off campus a bit hard as I sit in the back of the SUV with little shocks and try to reason that if necessary I can swallow my own vomit.
After a few more bumps and quick breaks, we arrive at the diner. This is where my parents turn from cruel to all out evil.
Mom: MMMM.. everything looks so good, what are you going to have?
Me: I'm really not that hungry.... a diet coke would be great.
Mom: Come on, this food looks delicious... what about a juicy burger?
Me (please, God, please help me): Um.. maybe in a second.
Mom: Well, I think I'm going to have the seafood bisque... sounds great. (note: she fully knows that i despise seafood and can't bare the sight or smell of it on a good day, let alone a bad one)
Dad: That does sound great... I think I'm going to try a Gyro and some onion rings
(please, just put me out of my misery)
My mother's soup arrives at the table as I slowly sip by diet coke.
The soup reeks like a dock and even better, its orange.. but not just orange, pinkish orange... maybe a slight tinge off the soup I had made earlier in the day. They ignore the slightly audible groan as I chew on my straw for dear life, when out comes my dad's gyro. I watch as all the ingredients of the gyro begin to drip out as he takes a bite.
Dad: You want some?
Me (focus on his eyes, you can't actually smell the soup): um, no...
Dad: mmm.. but its so good (takes a bite and shoves the half eaten gyro under my nose)
(ooh, ow)
At the same time, my mom begins to slurp her soup like a nursing home patient who forgot her dentures in her room. Then she accidentally gets some to run down her chin.
(Like I said people, cruel to sheer evil).
This being the last straw, I excuse myself and bolt to the bathroom where I manage to replicate the color of their lunches in the bathroom. (pretty good for not eating, right?)
I come back, white as my napkin and they exhange a brief smirking glance.
Mom: Maybe next time, you shouldn't drink so much, huh?
Me: What are you talking about?
Dad: Right, Gina. How about a saltine to help?
Dag, I was snagged. Three years later (when I became legal), they would recount this tale gleefully and admit their tortureous ways.
Moral of the story: Parents can be very very cruel to teach you a lesson.
Saturday, June 25, 2005
the hangover chronicles
episode 1, "the backyard is all stoned"
so, i guess when my parents decided to have a baby 10 years after their first, they thought it would be a piece of cake.. i worked pretty hard as a teen to prove them wrong... granted, i'm an angel now, but i definitely gave them a run for their money back in the day. i told you several highlights from my driving experiences, it is now time to give you a little taste of the torture i endured for underage drinking. occassionally, i had a drink or two (or 12) prior to become of legal drinking age (note to children: underage drinking is wrong and you should never do it).
one of the most famous stories about me being busted for underage drinking begins during senior week (the week after you graduate when everyone has a shore house).... my friends and i rented a great house in ocean city and my sister got us started with a gallon of vodka. i wish i could say that it was the only gallon that was drank in that house that week, but unfortunately, we lost the bulk of our security deposit due to excessive recycling, so that should give you some idea of just how much was drunk there (if i ever learn how to post pics, i'll gladly do so, its quite impressive, i assure you).
my parents, still under the impression, that my friends and i spent the week playing monopoly and hanging on the beach, decided they would surprise us on our last night.
And surprise they did.
Actually, they didn't have the opportunity to surprise me, because when they entered the house that was filled with 20 or so of my friends, I was in the center of the part, passed out cold on the couch, with everyone partying around me.
My mother, entered the now silent shore house and came over to me to shake me awake.
No response.
She tried again, same thing.
She exits the house. My friends drunk and worried (for about 5 minutes) continue on with the festivities.
Then, the phone rings. (Guess who!)
I'm told she said something along the lines of "May I speak with my daughter, please."
All I remember is suddenly being cold, wet and yelling explectives like it was my job.
Person who just dumped water on me: Dude, it's your MOM.
Me: What in the f@*!
Best friend #1: G, your mom is ON the PHONE. They were JUST HERE.
Me: Huh?
(Phone gets put in my hand... party silences)
Mom: Gina!
Me: Um, hi, mom. what's up?
Mom: Do YOU have ANY idea how I just found you?
Me: Um, not really.
Mom: You were OUT COLD on the couch. I shook you AND put a mirror under your nose to make sure you were BREATHING.
Me: Oh, well, I was tired. I stayed up to watch the sunrise.
(Cheers in the background because apparently my friends eeked out a similar story)
Mom: Have you been drinking?
Me: Huh? What?
Mom: YES, you've been drinking. YOU ARE DRUNK.
Me: Nahhh, Mom. I'm tired.
Mom: You listen to me. Is there grass there?
(interesting herbal smell coming from one side of the room)
Me: Wha?
Mom: IS THERE GRASS AT THE HOUSE!?!
Me: Mom, I don't know what you're talking about... you've been here, the backyard is all stoned.
Mom: YOU GET HOME TOMORROW, YOU HEAR ME!
(click, dial tone)
Having absolutely no clue what I even said during that conversation I look up to see 20 faces that look like they're in the middle of a funeral. I start to realize it may be my own.
Random person: Dude, you just told your mom the backyard was all stoned?
Me: Ya, she kept asking if there was grass here... i have no idea what that meant... the yard is stone, not grass.
(hysterical laughing throughout the house)
Best friend: We are so screwed.
Me: Good point, but not until tomorrow. Toss me a drink.
On the excessively slow drive back to my parent's house, I realized I may not be seeing outdoors for a very very long time.
I was pleasantly surprised that I was wrong. You see, I had both irritated and scared my parents to the point that they were too distraught to speak to me, let alone punish me.... so, after flying under their radar for a week or so... I managed to escape any major punishment (they did both seperately come in my room.. look at me, get aggravated, start to speak and leave)...
This was one time, I was off the hook. Karma, they say, is a bitch. My parents indeed repaid this adventure three-fold.
Stay tuned!
Smooch,
G
so, i guess when my parents decided to have a baby 10 years after their first, they thought it would be a piece of cake.. i worked pretty hard as a teen to prove them wrong... granted, i'm an angel now, but i definitely gave them a run for their money back in the day. i told you several highlights from my driving experiences, it is now time to give you a little taste of the torture i endured for underage drinking. occassionally, i had a drink or two (or 12) prior to become of legal drinking age (note to children: underage drinking is wrong and you should never do it).
one of the most famous stories about me being busted for underage drinking begins during senior week (the week after you graduate when everyone has a shore house).... my friends and i rented a great house in ocean city and my sister got us started with a gallon of vodka. i wish i could say that it was the only gallon that was drank in that house that week, but unfortunately, we lost the bulk of our security deposit due to excessive recycling, so that should give you some idea of just how much was drunk there (if i ever learn how to post pics, i'll gladly do so, its quite impressive, i assure you).
my parents, still under the impression, that my friends and i spent the week playing monopoly and hanging on the beach, decided they would surprise us on our last night.
And surprise they did.
Actually, they didn't have the opportunity to surprise me, because when they entered the house that was filled with 20 or so of my friends, I was in the center of the part, passed out cold on the couch, with everyone partying around me.
My mother, entered the now silent shore house and came over to me to shake me awake.
No response.
She tried again, same thing.
She exits the house. My friends drunk and worried (for about 5 minutes) continue on with the festivities.
Then, the phone rings. (Guess who!)
I'm told she said something along the lines of "May I speak with my daughter, please."
All I remember is suddenly being cold, wet and yelling explectives like it was my job.
Person who just dumped water on me: Dude, it's your MOM.
Me: What in the f@*!
Best friend #1: G, your mom is ON the PHONE. They were JUST HERE.
Me: Huh?
(Phone gets put in my hand... party silences)
Mom: Gina!
Me: Um, hi, mom. what's up?
Mom: Do YOU have ANY idea how I just found you?
Me: Um, not really.
Mom: You were OUT COLD on the couch. I shook you AND put a mirror under your nose to make sure you were BREATHING.
Me: Oh, well, I was tired. I stayed up to watch the sunrise.
(Cheers in the background because apparently my friends eeked out a similar story)
Mom: Have you been drinking?
Me: Huh? What?
Mom: YES, you've been drinking. YOU ARE DRUNK.
Me: Nahhh, Mom. I'm tired.
Mom: You listen to me. Is there grass there?
(interesting herbal smell coming from one side of the room)
Me: Wha?
Mom: IS THERE GRASS AT THE HOUSE!?!
Me: Mom, I don't know what you're talking about... you've been here, the backyard is all stoned.
Mom: YOU GET HOME TOMORROW, YOU HEAR ME!
(click, dial tone)
Having absolutely no clue what I even said during that conversation I look up to see 20 faces that look like they're in the middle of a funeral. I start to realize it may be my own.
Random person: Dude, you just told your mom the backyard was all stoned?
Me: Ya, she kept asking if there was grass here... i have no idea what that meant... the yard is stone, not grass.
(hysterical laughing throughout the house)
Best friend: We are so screwed.
Me: Good point, but not until tomorrow. Toss me a drink.
On the excessively slow drive back to my parent's house, I realized I may not be seeing outdoors for a very very long time.
I was pleasantly surprised that I was wrong. You see, I had both irritated and scared my parents to the point that they were too distraught to speak to me, let alone punish me.... so, after flying under their radar for a week or so... I managed to escape any major punishment (they did both seperately come in my room.. look at me, get aggravated, start to speak and leave)...
This was one time, I was off the hook. Karma, they say, is a bitch. My parents indeed repaid this adventure three-fold.
Stay tuned!
Smooch,
G
Thursday, June 23, 2005
Insecta, Vol. 10
Episode 10
“The showdown”
Detective Mangy was stunned. She lay flat on the ground, the sting of the pavement still fresh against her cheek. Fortunately, her genes had supplied her with cushy breasts to help soften the fall. But the shock of unexpected push to her back left several burning vertebrae as she slowly pushed herself up to her knees.
“hahahahahahaha!!!!!” exploded from Insecta’s mouth, her fly eyes wide and seemingly on fire. “Here I am to rock you like a hurricane!!!!!” she screamed, unable to think of anything other than Scorpions classics at the moment.
Mangy, dazed and staring up at the fire chief who stood as still as a stone in disbelief, slowly began to realize what had happened. Her pumps began to glow and pulsed as if they were pumping primal pump energy into her system. As her wrath grew, Mangy clinched her fists and stood up on her feet.
“You! You!!...I’ve had it with you Insecta!! You’ve wandered around like a moth at a yellow porch light, wreaking havoc on innocent gamblers and now you take a cheap shot at me -- you wanna piece of this, you got it!!”
Insecta was about to respond with another song lyric but before she could remember anything appropriate, Mangy’s shoes emitted fire like the base of a rocket and Mangy suddenly was airbourne. needlessly to say, everyone, including Mangy herself, was shocked.
Mangy noticed her knees had been skinned in the fall and the blood, though light, had ruined her uniform pants. “We’ll see if Tide takes care of it later, but for now,” she thought, “let’s see what other mysteries these shoes hold hidden.”
Mangy pointed both arms at Insecta and the rocket shoes shot her towards Insecta at a higher speed than the winged one had initially hit Mangy with. The result was Mangy knocking Insecta to the pavement with a hard thud. Mangy stood atop Insecta with one shoe over her throat.
“Say ‘Uncle’ bitch!!!” Mangy yelled.
“Not on your pumps!” replied Insecta as she grabbed the shoe on her throat. Mangy tried to pull it away but Insecta managed to pull the shoe off.
“AAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!” Mangy screamed in rage. But the remaining pump on her other foot still provided power. She swung the other foot around through the air and knocked Insecta squarely across the jaw.
The giant fly fell back and appeared nearly unconscious. Mangy drew her revolver and shot twice. Insecta seemed unphased by the bullet wound. “I eat bullets for breakfast, hussy!!” Insecta screeched back. She flew upwards with the one shoe clutched in her tentacle-like arms. Mangy also flew upwards though more off balance as she only had one shoe to lift her.
The two locked arms and wrestled mid-air for a few seconds before Mangy shoved Insecta back to the ground with an awesome burst of power. Insecta, again dazed by the impact, began to show signs of fear in her eyes. Could it be that Mangy truly had greater power with the pumps? She had to get the other shoe. With that, she launched herself full speed at Mangy’s shoed foot.
Mangy, of course, realized what was happening and retreated. The two tangled again midair and again Mangy managed to shove Insecta back to the ground.
For some reason, the fire chief thought to help and ordered his crew to start shooting the fire hoses at the two. The pressure from the hoses only pushed the two further into the sky.
Mangy finally grabbed hold of one of Insecta’s wings and clamped on with all her might. Then, she began to swing Insecta around in circles. Insecta grew dizzy and began to whine with nausea. A green colored ooze drooled from her mouth and drenched the fire crew below. The smell was enough to render them unconscious.
As Mangy mustered all her strength, the spinning grew faster and faster until finally the centrifugal force ripped the wing clean off of Insecta’s body.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH” Insecta yelled as she went flying like a meteorite through the air and finally crash landing somewhere several blocks away. As she flew, the pump she had stolen fell to the ground beneath and Mangy quickly grabbed it up and put it on her bare foot.
“She’s not finished yet,” Mangy thought. She compelled her shoes to fly her to where Insecta had fallen but noticed a Starbuck’s nearby and decided a double iced Latte would really quench her thirst nicely...
..Cheetah Kittens was in hysterics running down the strip as the fight was taking place. She was in a hurry to get to the police precinct headquarters. As she dashed down the main strip she suddenly heard voices crying for help down a long, hidden alleyway.
Cheetah dashed down the alleyway’s many curves and twists and as she grew closer to the calls for help, she realized they were coming from above.
“I don’t know why Jesus would call on me,” she thought, “but I can hear the voices from above and...”
It was then she noticed the two cocoon pouches stuff with Lion Bree and Captain Dizzy tombeau and attached to the top of the wall of a very tall building. Lion and Dizzy stared down upon perhaps Vegas’ most famous showgirl, Ms. Cheetah Kittens.
“Isnt’ that Cheetah kittens?” asked Tombeau. “Who? Dude. That’s a woman. Not a wild cat,” said lion dazed from hunger.
“NO, no, idiot. I mean the showgirl Cheetah Kittens!,” he turned his focus to hear, yelling, “Ms. Kittens! Save us. And then can I have an autograph?"
Ms. Kittens suddenly realized it was the police chief that was trapped up there. “Hell, I’d give you a lap dance if you’ll help me arrest Mr. Z. He kidnapped me for all the time I was missing!” she responded.
“That fiend. I promise you I will not sleep until I catch him and get that lap dance,” Captain Tombeau responded.
Lion was wondering if he’d lost his mind altogether but at the same time he realized he was saved. Cheetah got a long stick and poked at the the two “papooses” until they were dislodged from the wall. She’d already placed a garbage bin filled with garbage bags underneath to break their fall. Unfortunately, she didn’t realize the garbage was from a sewing factory. Nonetheless, besides a few pricks, the two men were okay.
“Let’s get back to headquarters now!” Dizzy ordered. The three headed off on foot to race there as quickly as they could....
...Mangy stood over insecta who was groaning and moaning from her many dints and dings. Without a wing, she could only fly in circles but at the present, she was too worn down to hardly move.
“Now, you giant bore-brain. What the hell are you doing in vegas if you don’t like having fun? Why would you come here if you dislike meeting new people and gambling and partying?” Detective Mangy asked.
It was right that second that it occurred to Detective Mangy she had no idea where Count Beaumont was. In fact, in the middle of the fracas with Insecta, she’d never stopped to think about him at all....
to be continued.
“The showdown”
Detective Mangy was stunned. She lay flat on the ground, the sting of the pavement still fresh against her cheek. Fortunately, her genes had supplied her with cushy breasts to help soften the fall. But the shock of unexpected push to her back left several burning vertebrae as she slowly pushed herself up to her knees.
“hahahahahahaha!!!!!” exploded from Insecta’s mouth, her fly eyes wide and seemingly on fire. “Here I am to rock you like a hurricane!!!!!” she screamed, unable to think of anything other than Scorpions classics at the moment.
Mangy, dazed and staring up at the fire chief who stood as still as a stone in disbelief, slowly began to realize what had happened. Her pumps began to glow and pulsed as if they were pumping primal pump energy into her system. As her wrath grew, Mangy clinched her fists and stood up on her feet.
“You! You!!...I’ve had it with you Insecta!! You’ve wandered around like a moth at a yellow porch light, wreaking havoc on innocent gamblers and now you take a cheap shot at me -- you wanna piece of this, you got it!!”
Insecta was about to respond with another song lyric but before she could remember anything appropriate, Mangy’s shoes emitted fire like the base of a rocket and Mangy suddenly was airbourne. needlessly to say, everyone, including Mangy herself, was shocked.
Mangy noticed her knees had been skinned in the fall and the blood, though light, had ruined her uniform pants. “We’ll see if Tide takes care of it later, but for now,” she thought, “let’s see what other mysteries these shoes hold hidden.”
Mangy pointed both arms at Insecta and the rocket shoes shot her towards Insecta at a higher speed than the winged one had initially hit Mangy with. The result was Mangy knocking Insecta to the pavement with a hard thud. Mangy stood atop Insecta with one shoe over her throat.
“Say ‘Uncle’ bitch!!!” Mangy yelled.
“Not on your pumps!” replied Insecta as she grabbed the shoe on her throat. Mangy tried to pull it away but Insecta managed to pull the shoe off.
“AAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!” Mangy screamed in rage. But the remaining pump on her other foot still provided power. She swung the other foot around through the air and knocked Insecta squarely across the jaw.
The giant fly fell back and appeared nearly unconscious. Mangy drew her revolver and shot twice. Insecta seemed unphased by the bullet wound. “I eat bullets for breakfast, hussy!!” Insecta screeched back. She flew upwards with the one shoe clutched in her tentacle-like arms. Mangy also flew upwards though more off balance as she only had one shoe to lift her.
The two locked arms and wrestled mid-air for a few seconds before Mangy shoved Insecta back to the ground with an awesome burst of power. Insecta, again dazed by the impact, began to show signs of fear in her eyes. Could it be that Mangy truly had greater power with the pumps? She had to get the other shoe. With that, she launched herself full speed at Mangy’s shoed foot.
Mangy, of course, realized what was happening and retreated. The two tangled again midair and again Mangy managed to shove Insecta back to the ground.
For some reason, the fire chief thought to help and ordered his crew to start shooting the fire hoses at the two. The pressure from the hoses only pushed the two further into the sky.
Mangy finally grabbed hold of one of Insecta’s wings and clamped on with all her might. Then, she began to swing Insecta around in circles. Insecta grew dizzy and began to whine with nausea. A green colored ooze drooled from her mouth and drenched the fire crew below. The smell was enough to render them unconscious.
As Mangy mustered all her strength, the spinning grew faster and faster until finally the centrifugal force ripped the wing clean off of Insecta’s body.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH” Insecta yelled as she went flying like a meteorite through the air and finally crash landing somewhere several blocks away. As she flew, the pump she had stolen fell to the ground beneath and Mangy quickly grabbed it up and put it on her bare foot.
“She’s not finished yet,” Mangy thought. She compelled her shoes to fly her to where Insecta had fallen but noticed a Starbuck’s nearby and decided a double iced Latte would really quench her thirst nicely...
..Cheetah Kittens was in hysterics running down the strip as the fight was taking place. She was in a hurry to get to the police precinct headquarters. As she dashed down the main strip she suddenly heard voices crying for help down a long, hidden alleyway.
Cheetah dashed down the alleyway’s many curves and twists and as she grew closer to the calls for help, she realized they were coming from above.
“I don’t know why Jesus would call on me,” she thought, “but I can hear the voices from above and...”
It was then she noticed the two cocoon pouches stuff with Lion Bree and Captain Dizzy tombeau and attached to the top of the wall of a very tall building. Lion and Dizzy stared down upon perhaps Vegas’ most famous showgirl, Ms. Cheetah Kittens.
“Isnt’ that Cheetah kittens?” asked Tombeau. “Who? Dude. That’s a woman. Not a wild cat,” said lion dazed from hunger.
“NO, no, idiot. I mean the showgirl Cheetah Kittens!,” he turned his focus to hear, yelling, “Ms. Kittens! Save us. And then can I have an autograph?"
Ms. Kittens suddenly realized it was the police chief that was trapped up there. “Hell, I’d give you a lap dance if you’ll help me arrest Mr. Z. He kidnapped me for all the time I was missing!” she responded.
“That fiend. I promise you I will not sleep until I catch him and get that lap dance,” Captain Tombeau responded.
Lion was wondering if he’d lost his mind altogether but at the same time he realized he was saved. Cheetah got a long stick and poked at the the two “papooses” until they were dislodged from the wall. She’d already placed a garbage bin filled with garbage bags underneath to break their fall. Unfortunately, she didn’t realize the garbage was from a sewing factory. Nonetheless, besides a few pricks, the two men were okay.
“Let’s get back to headquarters now!” Dizzy ordered. The three headed off on foot to race there as quickly as they could....
...Mangy stood over insecta who was groaning and moaning from her many dints and dings. Without a wing, she could only fly in circles but at the present, she was too worn down to hardly move.
“Now, you giant bore-brain. What the hell are you doing in vegas if you don’t like having fun? Why would you come here if you dislike meeting new people and gambling and partying?” Detective Mangy asked.
It was right that second that it occurred to Detective Mangy she had no idea where Count Beaumont was. In fact, in the middle of the fracas with Insecta, she’d never stopped to think about him at all....
to be continued.
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
Driving Chronicles, Vol. 4
"Nautical Driving"
Nautical driving... ah, G will be discussing boating? not so much.
While I am the daughter of a boat captain, that's not what this blog entry is about. This blog lesson would be about what to do when you find yourself in between a car and a boat, and neither are in water.
Now, after Chronicle 3, y'all know that why Dad stormed off mad, it didn't mean I got off from being punished (apparently, he figured out that I couldn't possibly have been on the way to the mall.. sneaky parents). In fact, I was "grounded", which meant no driving, especially not to Philadelphia for the House of Pain concert (1993 people, this was one of the coolest bands at the time). But my parents, tired of being parents for years on end (with my sister being 10 years older than me), liked to disappear alot and catch me in the act when they got back.
So, what's a girl to do? Free tickets to the House of Pain concert? I had to go, right! I could easily drive to Philly, make it back home without any problems/damage to my car or them ever knowing.
Off I jump into my car, giving my dog Rocky enough peanut butter laden biscuits to keep him from barking or telling the truth as to where I was (for those who didn't know Rocky, he was one smart dog)...
I hop into the car, parked on top of our curved driveway. Start the engine, blam, comes the stereo at full blast (Jump Around! Jump Around! Jump Up and up and get down!)
Whew, am I pumped!
Hit the car into reverse... this will be a breeze.
Left foot comes off the brake, right foot hits the gas pedal... WHAM! BAM! I rock forwards, then backwards.
F***.
What did I just hit?
Couldn't have been my father's boat, parked neatly on the side of the driveway, right? Not my father's prize possession, the boat which he cleaned with a cloth diaper (yep, saw with my own eyes)?
Quickly checking in the rear view, I stop. No person there. Yep, I hit the boat.
SH@#!
My father loves two things.. his boat, then his family. I just hit his favorite thing.
After 30 minutes, crying in my car, I realize I need to see if the boat which resided on a trailer was actually still in our steep driveway or if it had landed in the street (it was wedged up there with wooden bricks).
I get out of the car. The boat is still there! Right where it should be! YAY! Maybe I didn't hit anyting after all!
I turn to look at the back end of my car... nothing on the trunk... nothing on the .. OH, except that large dent in the back.
F***.
I drive back up the little part of the driveway I had gone down. Go back inside, go to bed (Rocky still trying to stop the peanut butter from sticking to his mouth). I wake up, clearly trying to block out the night's events. Crawling downstairs, yep, here it goes, another conversation with Dad.
Dad: Good morning, Gina.
Gina: Hi Daddy. (at one point will I learn Daddy does not work on him)
Dad: Say, Gina, did you happen to notice anyone touching my boat last night?
Gina: Nope. Why? Is something wrong?
Dad: Hmm.. Well its funny, the trailer is slightly moved off the wood, almost like it got hit by something.
Gina: Really? That's so weird.
Dad: Um, yea. You know what's even weirder... there is a dent on your car that matches where the trailer hitch WOULD'VE gotten hit.
Gina: Hmmmm. So strange. I'm pretty sure I left the parking brake on.
Dad: Gina?
Gina: Yes, Daddy?
Dad: Did you by any chance back INTO my boat last night while you were grounded and not supposed to drive?
Gina: Huh?
Dad: G**Damnit, GinaMarie
(uh oh)
Gina: Um, maybe?
Dad: Maybe!?! (trail of explectives to follow)
Gina: I was just trying to make space for your car?
Dad: And you backed up into a boat!? Who the hell misses a 18 foot BOAT in their OWN DRIVEWAY?! Did you NOT look in the mirror?
Gina: I didn't see it.
Dad: You didn't see it?
Gina: Don't remember seeing it?
Dad: You missed a 18 foot boat, sitting in the driveway? The same boat that has been sitting in the same place for the last 3 months?
Gina: Um, yes?
Dad: Well, tell me, Ginamarie (ugh), what insurance do I call to report this claim?
Gina: Huh? Insurance?
Dad: Yes, when damage is done to your car or your boat.. you need to report it to your insurance.
Gina: Ummmm.
Dad: Do you think the boat insurance company will believe me when I say its been hit by a car?
Gina: Uhhh.
Dad: Or do you think the car insurance company will believe me when I say my daughter hit a BOAT with our CAR?
Gina: I don't think I'm qualified to know that answer.
I'm sure you can imagine at this point the large amount of explectives and steam that rolled out of my father's ears at this point. I went back upstairs and hid for about a day...
Again, my father now thinks this is quite funny, but I've never quite been able to live down the "girl who hit the boat image".
Nautical driving... ah, G will be discussing boating? not so much.
While I am the daughter of a boat captain, that's not what this blog entry is about. This blog lesson would be about what to do when you find yourself in between a car and a boat, and neither are in water.
Now, after Chronicle 3, y'all know that why Dad stormed off mad, it didn't mean I got off from being punished (apparently, he figured out that I couldn't possibly have been on the way to the mall.. sneaky parents). In fact, I was "grounded", which meant no driving, especially not to Philadelphia for the House of Pain concert (1993 people, this was one of the coolest bands at the time). But my parents, tired of being parents for years on end (with my sister being 10 years older than me), liked to disappear alot and catch me in the act when they got back.
So, what's a girl to do? Free tickets to the House of Pain concert? I had to go, right! I could easily drive to Philly, make it back home without any problems/damage to my car or them ever knowing.
Off I jump into my car, giving my dog Rocky enough peanut butter laden biscuits to keep him from barking or telling the truth as to where I was (for those who didn't know Rocky, he was one smart dog)...
I hop into the car, parked on top of our curved driveway. Start the engine, blam, comes the stereo at full blast (Jump Around! Jump Around! Jump Up and up and get down!)
Whew, am I pumped!
Hit the car into reverse... this will be a breeze.
Left foot comes off the brake, right foot hits the gas pedal... WHAM! BAM! I rock forwards, then backwards.
F***.
What did I just hit?
Couldn't have been my father's boat, parked neatly on the side of the driveway, right? Not my father's prize possession, the boat which he cleaned with a cloth diaper (yep, saw with my own eyes)?
Quickly checking in the rear view, I stop. No person there. Yep, I hit the boat.
SH@#!
My father loves two things.. his boat, then his family. I just hit his favorite thing.
After 30 minutes, crying in my car, I realize I need to see if the boat which resided on a trailer was actually still in our steep driveway or if it had landed in the street (it was wedged up there with wooden bricks).
I get out of the car. The boat is still there! Right where it should be! YAY! Maybe I didn't hit anyting after all!
I turn to look at the back end of my car... nothing on the trunk... nothing on the .. OH, except that large dent in the back.
F***.
I drive back up the little part of the driveway I had gone down. Go back inside, go to bed (Rocky still trying to stop the peanut butter from sticking to his mouth). I wake up, clearly trying to block out the night's events. Crawling downstairs, yep, here it goes, another conversation with Dad.
Dad: Good morning, Gina.
Gina: Hi Daddy. (at one point will I learn Daddy does not work on him)
Dad: Say, Gina, did you happen to notice anyone touching my boat last night?
Gina: Nope. Why? Is something wrong?
Dad: Hmm.. Well its funny, the trailer is slightly moved off the wood, almost like it got hit by something.
Gina: Really? That's so weird.
Dad: Um, yea. You know what's even weirder... there is a dent on your car that matches where the trailer hitch WOULD'VE gotten hit.
Gina: Hmmmm. So strange. I'm pretty sure I left the parking brake on.
Dad: Gina?
Gina: Yes, Daddy?
Dad: Did you by any chance back INTO my boat last night while you were grounded and not supposed to drive?
Gina: Huh?
Dad: G**Damnit, GinaMarie
(uh oh)
Gina: Um, maybe?
Dad: Maybe!?! (trail of explectives to follow)
Gina: I was just trying to make space for your car?
Dad: And you backed up into a boat!? Who the hell misses a 18 foot BOAT in their OWN DRIVEWAY?! Did you NOT look in the mirror?
Gina: I didn't see it.
Dad: You didn't see it?
Gina: Don't remember seeing it?
Dad: You missed a 18 foot boat, sitting in the driveway? The same boat that has been sitting in the same place for the last 3 months?
Gina: Um, yes?
Dad: Well, tell me, Ginamarie (ugh), what insurance do I call to report this claim?
Gina: Huh? Insurance?
Dad: Yes, when damage is done to your car or your boat.. you need to report it to your insurance.
Gina: Ummmm.
Dad: Do you think the boat insurance company will believe me when I say its been hit by a car?
Gina: Uhhh.
Dad: Or do you think the car insurance company will believe me when I say my daughter hit a BOAT with our CAR?
Gina: I don't think I'm qualified to know that answer.
I'm sure you can imagine at this point the large amount of explectives and steam that rolled out of my father's ears at this point. I went back upstairs and hid for about a day...
Again, my father now thinks this is quite funny, but I've never quite been able to live down the "girl who hit the boat image".
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
Driving Chronicles, Vol. 3
Vol. 3, "How to Change a Tire--G Style"
When I got my license at 17, I thought that meant I'd have my own set of rules.. I could go where I want, when I want, etc. Not exactly true in my household, having your license meant you could go where my parents said, when they said. Trying to buck tradition (something that gets me in trouble continuously w/my parents), I decided, since they were away for the weekend, I could go visit my boyfriend who lived 40 miles from my house. Now, having seen Ferris Bueller's Day Off, I knew that I couldn't drive the car in reverse to make up the miles, but I could make up some grand story (getting lost on the way to WaWa, etc.) that would make up for the mileage. Crafty me employs the help of a few friends to come along for company on the trip and off we go to the highway...
I am a self-admitted speed demon and the second worst thing about my driving would be that I make sure the radio is loud enough to cover any possible sounds coming from the vehicle itself. So of course, my friends and I managed to miss the large hiss and just felt the bump, bump, bump of the tire that blew out of on my car.
Seeing the sparks on the highway, I decide to pull over.
I have a flat tire. Who knows how to change a flat tire? You're taught A LOT in driver's ed, how to make turns if your signals are out, what to do if you fly off a bridge in a car (Note to readers: Open all the windows so the pressure in the car is equal to the water pressure), what to do when driving in a circle (common sense and caution prevail), but noone ever teaches you how to change a tire.
Pondering what to do, I remember I have an easy solution. My parents, king and queen of cutting edge technology, supplied me with a cell phone in the car. Unfortunately, you youngsters may not remember, but a "cell phone" in 1993, was actually in the form of a giant bag and you had to pull out the antenna and lick and stick it to your windshield. You then have to plug the phone into the cigarette lighter and finally, with a little luck, you're plugged in enough to make a call (which back then was roughly 50 cents a minute).
Smarty me, I decide we need to call for help. After all we're 3 girls trapped on a major highway with cars whizzing past in the middle of the night... Mom and Dad told stories about girls like us. If we didn't call for help, surely some large man was coming to off us all. I thought for a second about who to call and realized the answer was simple. This was an emergency, call 911.
So, I dialed. 9-1-1.
Dispatcher: 911, what's your emergency?
Me: Hi, I have a flat tire.
Dispatcher: Come again?
Me: Yes, I have a flat tire.
Dispatcher: Ma'am where are you?
(pause as I mouth to my friends, EW, she called me Ma'am)
Me: I'm on the highway.
Dispatcher: WHICH ONE?
Me: Um, 295? 95? I think its 295. Wait, its 55, definitely 55.
Dispatcher: I'm sorry ma'am, but we can't help you.
Me: WHAT?! You're 911. It's your job!
Dispatcher: We can't send a police officer out there to change your tire.
Me: But, this is an emergency. I don't know HOW to change a tire and I'm sitting on the side of the road. Someone could come and kill me.
Dispatcher: The best I can do is send out an officer to wait with you.
Me: Well, I guess we can all wait together then.
Next call after 911, was to my boyfriend, who arrived 20 minutes after the officer. The officer, who spent the majority of the time laughing at me, that is and then getting frustrated, did INDEED change my tire.
Problem avoided right? Wrong. Other thing noone tells you is that you don't have a real tire as a spare tire you have a donut, which is car lingo for 1/2 of a tire.
Ah, so it comes back to Dad. How do you explain to your dad, that the tire miraculously blew out in the driveway and someone miraculously changed it for you? I opted for a different route which was NOT say anything, after all, he wouldn't notice, right?
Dad: Gina, did something happen to your car while we were gone?
Gina: Um, don't think so why?
Dad: Because it seems to have a spare tire on it.
Gina: It does?
Dad: Um, yea.
Gina: Did I forget to tell you that the tire blew this weekend?
Dad: Think so. How did that happen?
Gina: (mumble mumble, niner)
Dad: Where were you going?
Gina: Round the corner? (note to children: asking instead of stating them automatic guilt admission)
Dad: Wanna try again?
Gina: To the mall.
Dad: How did you change the tire?
Gina: Oh, I didn't Daddy. (yep, still trying to see if that works)
Dad: If you didn't, who did?
Gina: The police officer.
Dad: THE POLICE OFFICER??!!?
Gina: Ya, Daddy. He came when I called him.
Dad: How did you call the police officer?
Gina: Using the cell phone. (uh oh)
Dad: Let me get this straight you were ON the way to the mall, got a blow out tire and called the police?
Gina: No Daddy, I called 911. Its what you're supposed to do in an emergency.
Dad: A FLAT TIRE IS NOT AN EMERGENCY.
Gina: Ha, that's what they said too. But they still came an fixed it.
Dad: You called 911, on the cell phone which costs 50 cents/minute to have a police officer come and change your tire?
Gina: Yes, of course I did, Daddy, it was an emergency. I was utilizing the skills and logic you taught me as to what I should do in an emergency.
(Dad storms off red-faced realizing once again my logic has beaten his own)
Not sure if Dad ever caught on to where I was headed, but at least he realized I could handle myself if need be. He spent the next two days trying to show me how to change a flat tire and where my flares were. To this day, I couldn't tell you what he was talking about.
Stay tuned for the next Driving Chronicle, Nautical Driving. And keep it posted here for the Hangover Chronicles.. tales of being busted for underage drinking by my parents and how they tortured me because of it.
When I got my license at 17, I thought that meant I'd have my own set of rules.. I could go where I want, when I want, etc. Not exactly true in my household, having your license meant you could go where my parents said, when they said. Trying to buck tradition (something that gets me in trouble continuously w/my parents), I decided, since they were away for the weekend, I could go visit my boyfriend who lived 40 miles from my house. Now, having seen Ferris Bueller's Day Off, I knew that I couldn't drive the car in reverse to make up the miles, but I could make up some grand story (getting lost on the way to WaWa, etc.) that would make up for the mileage. Crafty me employs the help of a few friends to come along for company on the trip and off we go to the highway...
I am a self-admitted speed demon and the second worst thing about my driving would be that I make sure the radio is loud enough to cover any possible sounds coming from the vehicle itself. So of course, my friends and I managed to miss the large hiss and just felt the bump, bump, bump of the tire that blew out of on my car.
Seeing the sparks on the highway, I decide to pull over.
I have a flat tire. Who knows how to change a flat tire? You're taught A LOT in driver's ed, how to make turns if your signals are out, what to do if you fly off a bridge in a car (Note to readers: Open all the windows so the pressure in the car is equal to the water pressure), what to do when driving in a circle (common sense and caution prevail), but noone ever teaches you how to change a tire.
Pondering what to do, I remember I have an easy solution. My parents, king and queen of cutting edge technology, supplied me with a cell phone in the car. Unfortunately, you youngsters may not remember, but a "cell phone" in 1993, was actually in the form of a giant bag and you had to pull out the antenna and lick and stick it to your windshield. You then have to plug the phone into the cigarette lighter and finally, with a little luck, you're plugged in enough to make a call (which back then was roughly 50 cents a minute).
Smarty me, I decide we need to call for help. After all we're 3 girls trapped on a major highway with cars whizzing past in the middle of the night... Mom and Dad told stories about girls like us. If we didn't call for help, surely some large man was coming to off us all. I thought for a second about who to call and realized the answer was simple. This was an emergency, call 911.
So, I dialed. 9-1-1.
Dispatcher: 911, what's your emergency?
Me: Hi, I have a flat tire.
Dispatcher: Come again?
Me: Yes, I have a flat tire.
Dispatcher: Ma'am where are you?
(pause as I mouth to my friends, EW, she called me Ma'am)
Me: I'm on the highway.
Dispatcher: WHICH ONE?
Me: Um, 295? 95? I think its 295. Wait, its 55, definitely 55.
Dispatcher: I'm sorry ma'am, but we can't help you.
Me: WHAT?! You're 911. It's your job!
Dispatcher: We can't send a police officer out there to change your tire.
Me: But, this is an emergency. I don't know HOW to change a tire and I'm sitting on the side of the road. Someone could come and kill me.
Dispatcher: The best I can do is send out an officer to wait with you.
Me: Well, I guess we can all wait together then.
Next call after 911, was to my boyfriend, who arrived 20 minutes after the officer. The officer, who spent the majority of the time laughing at me, that is and then getting frustrated, did INDEED change my tire.
Problem avoided right? Wrong. Other thing noone tells you is that you don't have a real tire as a spare tire you have a donut, which is car lingo for 1/2 of a tire.
Ah, so it comes back to Dad. How do you explain to your dad, that the tire miraculously blew out in the driveway and someone miraculously changed it for you? I opted for a different route which was NOT say anything, after all, he wouldn't notice, right?
Dad: Gina, did something happen to your car while we were gone?
Gina: Um, don't think so why?
Dad: Because it seems to have a spare tire on it.
Gina: It does?
Dad: Um, yea.
Gina: Did I forget to tell you that the tire blew this weekend?
Dad: Think so. How did that happen?
Gina: (mumble mumble, niner)
Dad: Where were you going?
Gina: Round the corner? (note to children: asking instead of stating them automatic guilt admission)
Dad: Wanna try again?
Gina: To the mall.
Dad: How did you change the tire?
Gina: Oh, I didn't Daddy. (yep, still trying to see if that works)
Dad: If you didn't, who did?
Gina: The police officer.
Dad: THE POLICE OFFICER??!!?
Gina: Ya, Daddy. He came when I called him.
Dad: How did you call the police officer?
Gina: Using the cell phone. (uh oh)
Dad: Let me get this straight you were ON the way to the mall, got a blow out tire and called the police?
Gina: No Daddy, I called 911. Its what you're supposed to do in an emergency.
Dad: A FLAT TIRE IS NOT AN EMERGENCY.
Gina: Ha, that's what they said too. But they still came an fixed it.
Dad: You called 911, on the cell phone which costs 50 cents/minute to have a police officer come and change your tire?
Gina: Yes, of course I did, Daddy, it was an emergency. I was utilizing the skills and logic you taught me as to what I should do in an emergency.
(Dad storms off red-faced realizing once again my logic has beaten his own)
Not sure if Dad ever caught on to where I was headed, but at least he realized I could handle myself if need be. He spent the next two days trying to show me how to change a flat tire and where my flares were. To this day, I couldn't tell you what he was talking about.
Stay tuned for the next Driving Chronicle, Nautical Driving. And keep it posted here for the Hangover Chronicles.. tales of being busted for underage drinking by my parents and how they tortured me because of it.
Monday, June 13, 2005
The Driving Chronicles, Vol. 1 and 2
Ah, almost summer in DC... nothing beats 90+ degree days, feeling like a you're walking around with a wet hot towel covering your person and especially when the A/C in your office is broken and your office temp is 85+. Almost too hot to even put Victor's top down. But I digress, it seems the lovely police officers of DC are too lazy to pull people over anymore and have the common courteously to give you a speeding ticket. Instead, they take a cute little picture of you, speeding in your car and send it off to your father (who happens to be the name on the lease). This leads me to a great blogging series, the Driving Chronicles in which I will go into some all-time fantastic moments of me behind the wheel. For today's driving chronicle, we'll go into my favorite story or lesson if you want to call it that called, The Tale of the Unpaid Parking Tickets. Ironically, almost all of the Driving Chronicles will involve phone conversations w/my father. So, here it goes:
Back story:
Gina is in college, living in an apartment in New Brunswick. Parking in the town is absolutely dreadful (a trait that encompasses everywhere she's lived). Sometimes, in order to park, she had to "stretch" the legal limits.
The conversation:
Dad: Gina, I need to talk to you.
Gina: What is it Dad?
Dad: Its your mother.
Gina: What's wrong?
Dad: She received a letter today that she has a warrant out for her arrest.
Gina: Holy s***, I mean crap. What did she do?
Dad: Apparently, she didn't pay a bunch of parking tickets in New Brunswick.
Gina (not getting where this is going): What? But you guys haven't been up here in months.
Dad (elevated voice, w/moderate tinge of aggravation): Yes, I know that, GinaMarie (most of my full first name, never good)... Tell me did you by chance receive any parking tickets that you didn't pay.
Gina (starting to see where this is headed): Um, yes, Daddy (note to future offenders: pulling the "Daddy" card can be effective in SOME situations), I think I may have.
Dad (growing aggravation in voice): You think?!? Or you know?
Gina: Well, I guess, I know.
Dad (full-on aggravated, elevated tone): Can you please tell me, you wouldn't PAY these tickets?
Gina: Yes, Daddy, actually I can.
Dad: Why?
Gina: Well, remember how you used to get parking tickets when we'd drive down the shore and you'd throw them out? I figured I didn't need to pay them.
Dad: (deciphered from what I recall was a the large amount of explectives): WHAT?!?
Gina: This isn't my fault. I learned it by watching you.
Dad (clearing missing the beauty of the well-placed reference to the famous 80s PSA): God DAMNit GinaMarie (ah, my full name now, definitely a sign of being screwed), your mother has a BENCH WARRANT and you didn't pay these tickets because you saw me throw out a ticket for parking down the shore?
Gina: Um, yes, Daddy?
Dad: YOU PAY THESE TICKETS TOMORROW, do you UNDERSTAND ME? And don't EVER EVER throw away a ticket EVER AGAIN.
(click... fade to dial tone)
Now don't get me wrong, my dad, bless his heart, did come around and find the situation slightly amusing, in fact I can get a chuckle out of him now about it... and he did eventually admit SOME wrong doing on his part. In fact, our conversation today went much better (guess 10 years or so will temper some people).
Here we go, Vol. 2, Shake it like a Polaroid picture.
Dad: Gina, I have some bad news for you here.
Gina: Oh no, what now?
Dad: I have an envelope here from the District of Columbia. Apparently, I have a speeding ticket.
Gina: Are you kidding me? Did you get pulled over?
Dad: Um, no, Gina. Its for your car. Were you speeding?
Gina: Daddy (yep, still pulling that card 10 years later), I speed all the time, but noone pulled me over.
Dad: No, they take pictures now.
Gina: This is an OUTRAGEOUS invasion of my privacy, don't they have to state they're taking a picture somewhere.
Dad: This picture was taken on the 5400 block of 16th Street. Oh, look you have your top down.
Gina: I'm infuriated. I can't believe they don't post warnings anywhere. I'm on the 6000 block now.
Dad: Well keep your eyes out, do you see markings on the ground.
Gina (driving past the SPEED PHOTO ENFORCED sign): Oh, there it is, photo enforced... huh, look at that, but I don't see any cameras. (Gina stops for a red light) Oh, there is the camera.
Dad: Ok, the good news is there is no points on your license. The bad news is that you owe $100.
Gina: How can they not have the common courteousy to pull me over.
Dad: I don't think it works like that.
Gina: Well, I think its ridiculous and hey, isn't this ticket in your name.
Dad: Yes.
Gina: So technically, am I NOT responsible?
Dad: Technically, yes. However, if you'd like to avoid the DC police pulling you over for a stolen car, I'd suggest you pay the ticket.
Ah parents, you just got to work on it, and they have a sense of humor.
Trust me, these are just a few ancedotes, of the Driving Chronicles.
Hope you enjoyed.
Smooch,
G
Back story:
Gina is in college, living in an apartment in New Brunswick. Parking in the town is absolutely dreadful (a trait that encompasses everywhere she's lived). Sometimes, in order to park, she had to "stretch" the legal limits.
The conversation:
Dad: Gina, I need to talk to you.
Gina: What is it Dad?
Dad: Its your mother.
Gina: What's wrong?
Dad: She received a letter today that she has a warrant out for her arrest.
Gina: Holy s***, I mean crap. What did she do?
Dad: Apparently, she didn't pay a bunch of parking tickets in New Brunswick.
Gina (not getting where this is going): What? But you guys haven't been up here in months.
Dad (elevated voice, w/moderate tinge of aggravation): Yes, I know that, GinaMarie (most of my full first name, never good)... Tell me did you by chance receive any parking tickets that you didn't pay.
Gina (starting to see where this is headed): Um, yes, Daddy (note to future offenders: pulling the "Daddy" card can be effective in SOME situations), I think I may have.
Dad (growing aggravation in voice): You think?!? Or you know?
Gina: Well, I guess, I know.
Dad (full-on aggravated, elevated tone): Can you please tell me, you wouldn't PAY these tickets?
Gina: Yes, Daddy, actually I can.
Dad: Why?
Gina: Well, remember how you used to get parking tickets when we'd drive down the shore and you'd throw them out? I figured I didn't need to pay them.
Dad: (deciphered from what I recall was a the large amount of explectives): WHAT?!?
Gina: This isn't my fault. I learned it by watching you.
Dad (clearing missing the beauty of the well-placed reference to the famous 80s PSA): God DAMNit GinaMarie (ah, my full name now, definitely a sign of being screwed), your mother has a BENCH WARRANT and you didn't pay these tickets because you saw me throw out a ticket for parking down the shore?
Gina: Um, yes, Daddy?
Dad: YOU PAY THESE TICKETS TOMORROW, do you UNDERSTAND ME? And don't EVER EVER throw away a ticket EVER AGAIN.
(click... fade to dial tone)
Now don't get me wrong, my dad, bless his heart, did come around and find the situation slightly amusing, in fact I can get a chuckle out of him now about it... and he did eventually admit SOME wrong doing on his part. In fact, our conversation today went much better (guess 10 years or so will temper some people).
Here we go, Vol. 2, Shake it like a Polaroid picture.
Dad: Gina, I have some bad news for you here.
Gina: Oh no, what now?
Dad: I have an envelope here from the District of Columbia. Apparently, I have a speeding ticket.
Gina: Are you kidding me? Did you get pulled over?
Dad: Um, no, Gina. Its for your car. Were you speeding?
Gina: Daddy (yep, still pulling that card 10 years later), I speed all the time, but noone pulled me over.
Dad: No, they take pictures now.
Gina: This is an OUTRAGEOUS invasion of my privacy, don't they have to state they're taking a picture somewhere.
Dad: This picture was taken on the 5400 block of 16th Street. Oh, look you have your top down.
Gina: I'm infuriated. I can't believe they don't post warnings anywhere. I'm on the 6000 block now.
Dad: Well keep your eyes out, do you see markings on the ground.
Gina (driving past the SPEED PHOTO ENFORCED sign): Oh, there it is, photo enforced... huh, look at that, but I don't see any cameras. (Gina stops for a red light) Oh, there is the camera.
Dad: Ok, the good news is there is no points on your license. The bad news is that you owe $100.
Gina: How can they not have the common courteousy to pull me over.
Dad: I don't think it works like that.
Gina: Well, I think its ridiculous and hey, isn't this ticket in your name.
Dad: Yes.
Gina: So technically, am I NOT responsible?
Dad: Technically, yes. However, if you'd like to avoid the DC police pulling you over for a stolen car, I'd suggest you pay the ticket.
Ah parents, you just got to work on it, and they have a sense of humor.
Trust me, these are just a few ancedotes, of the Driving Chronicles.
Hope you enjoyed.
Smooch,
G
Saturday, June 11, 2005
highlights of the week and Insecta
I usually try to get in at least one blog entry in between Insecta episodes... let's see.. highlights of the week... I became a godmother (you have to wait on your complete license before the fairy part comes in).. i did my first irish car bomb... that certainly leaves a pain in your head. a very big deal fell through on the work front... i drowned my sorrows in a supposedly "sugar free" crystal light slurpee... and i have yet another doctor story, which i don't have the energy to write just yet. So, now that everyone is caught up, here is a message from Insecta's creator, The Paul, followed by Vol. 9.
To the loyal fans of Insecta:
This first story of Insecta will be 12 episodes in length. We are currently to episode 9, which means there will be 3 more episodes to conclude this particular storyline. After that, I will be taking a brief hiatus from writing Insecta. If you missed any prior episodes, Gina has all of them posted at her website. At this point, all I can tell you about the second storyline is that it will include all your favorite characters (Detective Mangy, Insecta, Mr. Z, Cheetah Kittens, Captain Tombeau, Lion Bree (accepting a new role as district attorney in Vegas to help the others fight crime), and certainly Count Beaumont).
As for any hints how this first storyline will play out, I can only promise you one big showdown between Detective Mangy (who has yet to fully master the power of her red pumps) and Insecta...and Cheetah Kittens will certainly become much more important though there will be a cliffhanger unresolved until the second storyline begins sometime in late June or early July.
Now if I just had some cool Insecta tee-shirts to offer....
Insecta episode #9,
"cheetah joins the struggle"
Cheetah Kittens remained locked in the same room where she'd lifted Count Beaumont out the window when she sent him for help. By the time Det. Mangy and Beaumont were headed for the warehouse to try to meet Insecta, so much time had passed, Cheetah could only assume two things: either the substance abuse of Count Beaumont's past was severe enough to hamper his memory and he forgot why she sent him out or even forgot her entirely or his fall result in penguin mush on the sidewalk. Either way, she was frustrated.
As her anger built, she began to do her showgirl leg kicking dance in effort to kick the door down but only succeeded in getting the heel of her stilettos stuck in glass table beside the door. She took off her tall feather hat and, though still clad in her glittering showgirl outfit, tried to see if she could squeeze herself through the very window she sent Count Beaumont through. This didn't work out as planned and for a moment she was horrified her head, neck, and 3 quarters of her shoulders would forever be wedged in a three floor window, looking down at an alley way which was deserted. She thought to yell for help but realized no one could really hear her from where she was stuck.
Finally, she managed to pull herself back inside. In desperation, she stopped up the sink and began to run the water....
Detective Mangy was running at nearly 90 miles per hour in her newly purchased power pumps and the shoes were guiding her in the direction of the warehouse she saw in the cloudy vision the shoes revealed to her only moments before. count beaumont had wrapped his wings around her forehead and was standing on her shoulders. He trembled with fear and groaned with each sharp turn Mangy made effortlessly.
"I can't believe these new shoes!!" she exclaimed with her eyes wide open, "they're like the most incredible shoes ever. Dorothy got ripped off!!"
....Insecta was still trying to shake off the effects of the licorice liqueur and her crash landing into the Stardust casino sign as she landed at the front door of an abandoned warehouse in an industrial district.
"Oh, Mangy! I'm here, bitch!" She croaked with a mischievous grin.
Unfortunately for Mr. Z, he did not understand the extent of Insecta's powers. However, naive or stupid she may have been to trust him in the first place, it would prove difficult to get rid of such a horrifically powerful bore. As she opened the door to the warehouse, the bomb was detonated. The building was destroyed in an all consuming ball of fire and the explosion set off a five alarm fire. But Insecta was blown clear. Although the second impact was insult to injury after her earlier debacle, Insecta was more or less unscathed except for minor burns on her exoskeleton armor.
Her mood was another matter.
"What the friggin' fuck just happened?!!" she exclaimed.
She managed to fly away before any fire trucks arrived. And she was in a quandary.
"Either Detective Mangy set me up or Mr. Z. set me up." She said staring pensively at a licorice stick as she sat on top of a nearby building watching the fire men ply their trade, "Either way, who care? I'm taking them both down. Hahahahahaha" she cackled....
Detective mangy arrived at the scene and was stunned to see the building from her vision in ruins. Count Beaumont was just happy to still be alive.
"Now what?" she exclaimed to the empty night air and then turned to the fire chief to ask, "was anybody inside?"
"We have no idea. If there were, they were killed without question,"he responded solemnly....
....the water had filled the small room to within one foot of the ceiling. Cheetah Kittens had grown very worried. She expected the floor to leak into the casino or perhaps the water weight to cause the floor to bust through, but neither was happening.
"Great. Now I drown myself to death after trusting a rehabed penguin to save me. My tombstone should read, 'here lies a stupid idiot who's death was a laughable series of unfortunate slapstick mishaps.'"
But Cheetah had not always been a showgirl. Though she was famous for her show in vegas before being kidnapped, she was originally an agent for the CIA. Cheetah joined the Navy out of high school and became a navy seal several years later. Her expert skill at surveillance and assassination quickly earned her a classified position in the CIA. However, after a couple more years at the agency, she found buddhism and committed her self to a life of non-violence and searching for truth in the present. This naturally led to her becoming a Vegas showgirl.
Be all that as it may, Cheetah wasn't sure what she could do at the water rose to with a half foot of the ceiling. But it didn't matter for her buddhist prayer was answered and the floor collapsed through flushing all the water onto the casino floor below and dropping cheetah kittens on top of - yep, you guess it - wayne newton.
Wayne was stunned from being hit and the doubly stunned at seeing cheetah who had disappeared some time before when she was kidnapped.
"Good lord!" he said with shock. The audience too ooh and ahh.
"There's not time for this!" she asserted as she stood up and began to run off the stage and towards the exits, "call the police. Mr. Z. kidnapped me!"....
....Insecta had noticed detective mangy talking to the fire chief below as the flywoman sat out of the detective's sight."Hmmm. It appears she's surprised. But then, how did she know to come here? Maybe Mr. Z. set us both up. still no matter. I'll have those pumps," Insecta said as she stood up and spread her wings.
Her giant fly form began a rapid dive towards Detective Mangy. Unfortunately, it was towards the detective's back that she flew. Before she was even aware of being hit, Detective Mangy's right cheek hit hard against the pavement....to be continued.
To the loyal fans of Insecta:
This first story of Insecta will be 12 episodes in length. We are currently to episode 9, which means there will be 3 more episodes to conclude this particular storyline. After that, I will be taking a brief hiatus from writing Insecta. If you missed any prior episodes, Gina has all of them posted at her website. At this point, all I can tell you about the second storyline is that it will include all your favorite characters (Detective Mangy, Insecta, Mr. Z, Cheetah Kittens, Captain Tombeau, Lion Bree (accepting a new role as district attorney in Vegas to help the others fight crime), and certainly Count Beaumont).
As for any hints how this first storyline will play out, I can only promise you one big showdown between Detective Mangy (who has yet to fully master the power of her red pumps) and Insecta...and Cheetah Kittens will certainly become much more important though there will be a cliffhanger unresolved until the second storyline begins sometime in late June or early July.
Now if I just had some cool Insecta tee-shirts to offer....
Insecta episode #9,
"cheetah joins the struggle"
Cheetah Kittens remained locked in the same room where she'd lifted Count Beaumont out the window when she sent him for help. By the time Det. Mangy and Beaumont were headed for the warehouse to try to meet Insecta, so much time had passed, Cheetah could only assume two things: either the substance abuse of Count Beaumont's past was severe enough to hamper his memory and he forgot why she sent him out or even forgot her entirely or his fall result in penguin mush on the sidewalk. Either way, she was frustrated.
As her anger built, she began to do her showgirl leg kicking dance in effort to kick the door down but only succeeded in getting the heel of her stilettos stuck in glass table beside the door. She took off her tall feather hat and, though still clad in her glittering showgirl outfit, tried to see if she could squeeze herself through the very window she sent Count Beaumont through. This didn't work out as planned and for a moment she was horrified her head, neck, and 3 quarters of her shoulders would forever be wedged in a three floor window, looking down at an alley way which was deserted. She thought to yell for help but realized no one could really hear her from where she was stuck.
Finally, she managed to pull herself back inside. In desperation, she stopped up the sink and began to run the water....
Detective Mangy was running at nearly 90 miles per hour in her newly purchased power pumps and the shoes were guiding her in the direction of the warehouse she saw in the cloudy vision the shoes revealed to her only moments before. count beaumont had wrapped his wings around her forehead and was standing on her shoulders. He trembled with fear and groaned with each sharp turn Mangy made effortlessly.
"I can't believe these new shoes!!" she exclaimed with her eyes wide open, "they're like the most incredible shoes ever. Dorothy got ripped off!!"
....Insecta was still trying to shake off the effects of the licorice liqueur and her crash landing into the Stardust casino sign as she landed at the front door of an abandoned warehouse in an industrial district.
"Oh, Mangy! I'm here, bitch!" She croaked with a mischievous grin.
Unfortunately for Mr. Z, he did not understand the extent of Insecta's powers. However, naive or stupid she may have been to trust him in the first place, it would prove difficult to get rid of such a horrifically powerful bore. As she opened the door to the warehouse, the bomb was detonated. The building was destroyed in an all consuming ball of fire and the explosion set off a five alarm fire. But Insecta was blown clear. Although the second impact was insult to injury after her earlier debacle, Insecta was more or less unscathed except for minor burns on her exoskeleton armor.
Her mood was another matter.
"What the friggin' fuck just happened?!!" she exclaimed.
She managed to fly away before any fire trucks arrived. And she was in a quandary.
"Either Detective Mangy set me up or Mr. Z. set me up." She said staring pensively at a licorice stick as she sat on top of a nearby building watching the fire men ply their trade, "Either way, who care? I'm taking them both down. Hahahahahaha" she cackled....
Detective mangy arrived at the scene and was stunned to see the building from her vision in ruins. Count Beaumont was just happy to still be alive.
"Now what?" she exclaimed to the empty night air and then turned to the fire chief to ask, "was anybody inside?"
"We have no idea. If there were, they were killed without question,"he responded solemnly....
....the water had filled the small room to within one foot of the ceiling. Cheetah Kittens had grown very worried. She expected the floor to leak into the casino or perhaps the water weight to cause the floor to bust through, but neither was happening.
"Great. Now I drown myself to death after trusting a rehabed penguin to save me. My tombstone should read, 'here lies a stupid idiot who's death was a laughable series of unfortunate slapstick mishaps.'"
But Cheetah had not always been a showgirl. Though she was famous for her show in vegas before being kidnapped, she was originally an agent for the CIA. Cheetah joined the Navy out of high school and became a navy seal several years later. Her expert skill at surveillance and assassination quickly earned her a classified position in the CIA. However, after a couple more years at the agency, she found buddhism and committed her self to a life of non-violence and searching for truth in the present. This naturally led to her becoming a Vegas showgirl.
Be all that as it may, Cheetah wasn't sure what she could do at the water rose to with a half foot of the ceiling. But it didn't matter for her buddhist prayer was answered and the floor collapsed through flushing all the water onto the casino floor below and dropping cheetah kittens on top of - yep, you guess it - wayne newton.
Wayne was stunned from being hit and the doubly stunned at seeing cheetah who had disappeared some time before when she was kidnapped.
"Good lord!" he said with shock. The audience too ooh and ahh.
"There's not time for this!" she asserted as she stood up and began to run off the stage and towards the exits, "call the police. Mr. Z. kidnapped me!"....
....Insecta had noticed detective mangy talking to the fire chief below as the flywoman sat out of the detective's sight."Hmmm. It appears she's surprised. But then, how did she know to come here? Maybe Mr. Z. set us both up. still no matter. I'll have those pumps," Insecta said as she stood up and spread her wings.
Her giant fly form began a rapid dive towards Detective Mangy. Unfortunately, it was towards the detective's back that she flew. Before she was even aware of being hit, Detective Mangy's right cheek hit hard against the pavement....to be continued.
Saturday, June 04, 2005
Insecta, Vol. 8
After sucking all the fun out of Captain Tombeau and Lion Bree, Insecta decided to celebrate with licorice, her all time favorite food. She once ate so much licorice she gave birth to twizzler infested maggots.
She flew into a local store that specialized in licorice and licorice flavored treats. Of course, the store manager was horrified at seeing her and ran away to phone police.
"I'll only be a minute!!!" Insecta cackled, as the man ran past her.
She found an expensive licorice liqueur and decided it was high time they had produced such nectar of the gods. After discovering the company name and location on the bottle, she decided to fly there and raid their goods. Unfortunately, the liqueur began to take effect before she flew completely out the city. And Insecta crash landed into the Stardust casino's neon sign....
...Detective Mangy struggled to break free from the grasp of the security men that Mr. Z ordered to take her hostage. Mr. Z watched as they tried to subdue her. But Mangy caught sight of her new red pumps and something inside suddenly erupted. Detective Mangy twirled her body at such a high rate of speed, the two men who held her were thrown clear into the walls at either end of the office. Both were rendered unconscious.
"You are a moron!!!" she screamed at Mr. Z and flexed her biceps until her face turned red and the cuffs snapped as if they were made of string.
Seeing a safe chance to help out, Count Beaumont emerged from behind the sofa and flapped his wings in what he assumed would look like a kung fu manuever.
"You traitor!" Mr. Z yelled at Count Beaumont,"I knew it was you. Cheetah! You rat!"
He ran behind his desk as Detective Mangy followed to try to restrain him. But before she got close, he'd pressed a button which opened a trap door immediately beneath him and he fell through. To where, Detective Mangy could not ascertain as the door reclosed as soon as he was through. Leaving Detective Mangy and Count Lee -- uh, Beaumont alone except for two unconsious security guards.
"We've got to get downstairs and find him now," Mangy said to Count Beaumont feeling dizzy and bewildered as her superpowers seemed to fade away. The penguin made quickly for the door and Detective Mangy joined him as they both went on a search for the downstair staircase....
At least 30 Las Vegas police officers stood within a yellow crime scene tape cordon staring at the unconcious body of what appeared to be an enormous blonde fly. Little did they know she was starting to regain consciousness - albeit somewhat intoxicated - but very angry at making such a stupid mistake.
"uuhhhhhhh," she finally gasped.
"Stand back, draw your arms," one officer commanded.
Insecta attempted to stand up. At first she felt back down a couple of times. But finally she stood up. she turned around and noticed all the officers and cackled yet again. It was as if the very laugh restored her strength to full. With that, she flew away far too rapidly for anyone to do a thing about it....
Captain Tombeau and Lion Bree remained trapped in two tightly woven cocoons. They knew she'd be back to ruin their day again.
"What are we going to do?" asked Lion frustrated.
"Be patient. Detective Mangy is probably working on another lead. Once she gets something conclusive she'll check back with me. When she can't get me, she'll know to come looking for us both."
What Captain Tombeau didn't know was his officers were already tryiing to reach him after they found Insecta and let her get away. Already the police force was looking for Captain tombeau. But would they get to Captain Tombeau in time?
...Detective Mangy moved slowly and quietly down a dark hallway in the basement of the bordello casino. Beaumont followed at her feet, twitching somewhat nervously. Out of the blue, he pulled a blunt from his pocket. With his free wing, he lit a lighter. He took two puffs and exhaled. All this, as Detective Mangy stood staring at him in disbelief.
"What the hell are you doing?!" She asked in a shouted whisper.
"Trying to ease my little penguin nerves," he replied. He offered Detective Mangy the blunt which stilled burned.
"Oh what the hell. Everybody's doing it these days, I guess," she replied taking the blunt from Count Beaumont. Detective Mangy realized it was nicer than she thought. It was relaxing and after the 12th hit and lot of angry protest about hogging it, she finally handed it back to Count beaumont.
What little light there had been in the hallway was fogged over by the time the two were done. They sat, citing how tired they were and how hard the day had been. An hour passed. Finally Detective Mangy realized it was time to give up on Mr. Z.
"I've got to get back to the precinct, but first let's go free Cheetah Kittens," she said with excitement to count beaumont. he merely grinned in reply...
Insecta returned to where she kept the captain tombeau and lion bree tied up. She had hatched a new plan.
"You two are not that much fun to be honest. It's not interesting to steal the fun from workaholics because there's not much fun in that. I'd rather pop the balloon of a five year old in the park," she said grinning, "or - say - destroy a new year's eve party with stories of vomit and bar room sleeping."
She buzzed around the alley, pacing in the air back and forth in front of the two hostages.
"No, I think I'll let you go. But first, I'll use you as bargaining chips. Captain Tombeau, in exchange for you, I demand 12,000 bottles of Licorice Liqueur. And lion bree - the same for you. You each get one phone call to a friend - not the cops - to set up the deal. You have two hours or you will get dropped from high up in the air onto the strip."
She freed one arm of each prisoner and handed each a cell phone. She then made a call of her own to Mr. Z. He told her of the backfired plan to swoon Detective Mangy.
"I told you you were stupid to even pursue her. She's not an idiot you moron!!!" screamed insecta.
"you're the second person to call me a moron today. Detective Mangy was first. By the way, she seems to have developed some rather unusual superpowers," he added. He finished by explaining he was laying low because o f what had happened and asked Insecta to clean up some of the mess that was made...namely kill Detective mangy before the investigation ended up destroying his casino and his empire.
"I'll be glad to steal her pumps," Insecta said in her sultriest guttural warble.
Dizzy Tombeau and Lion Bree each had reached a trusted friend and explained the demand. Both of the parties phoned were first bewildered but being trusting friends agreed to start meeting the demands.
Insecta snidely thanked the gentlemen for their "competent and vigorous pursuit" of the aforementioned demands.
"But for now, I must go. I have a final date with an angel......"
Mr. Z had no intentions of letting Detective Mangy be harmed. He was drawing out Insecta into a trap because he had found his old love and wanted to now resume dating etc. Of course he knew the chances were slim and would require some careful plotting to re-woo her. But Insecta's usefulness had run out and she was dangerous to keep around becuase of her unpredictable nature. He had given an abandoned warehouse address to Insecta. Knowing she'd trust him and go there without thinking about it. He had some men plant a bomb there. It was just a matter of waiting for the right moment.
Meanwhile, suffering from munchies, Detective Mangy and Count Beaumont stopped at Kentucky Fried Chicken. Cheetah Kittens was no where to be found in the casino and no one knew if she'd wandered off or was being held somewhere hidden. Mangy and Beaumont ordered food and sat.
Detective mangy did finally try to call her boss, and, unsuccessful, reached the precinct where they informed her of his disappearance and of the crashlanding and escape of insecta.
"hmmm. she's probably got him, " Detective mangy said to Count beaumont.
"and lion bree," responded Count beaumont with a raised eyebrow, "don't forget he was kidnapped too."
"She's trying to draw me out into the open or at least distract me. Mr. Z isn't behind this. All he wanted was for me to be assigned the case involving him so we'd meet up. He can't want disorder in the city. it's bad for his business too," she said, her mind becoming more focused.
Just then, she looked down at her shoes again and a strange feeling came over her. A cloudy vapor formed just above her shoes. Inside of it was a series of images - of Insecta flying through the air and old industrial district.
"that's a vision. it's a vision of some kind. It's like it's telling me where insecta is," Detective Mangy said with surprise.
"What?!" asked beaumont who could not see the vapor or the vision."The shoes! They do have special powers. I've got to learn how to use them!" She said excited.
"Yeah, like how you learned to program your VCR, right?" Count Beaumont countered and finished off the last chicken breast.
"We've got to find that industrial district and where she's headed there." Detective mangy said with urgency...
Cheetah Kittens was still locked away inside a small room that was hidden behind a large bookcase in Mr. Z's office. In his rush to leave, he forgot about her. She continued to wait patiently, hoping that Count Beaumont would remember her and convince someone to help her before it was too late....
She flew into a local store that specialized in licorice and licorice flavored treats. Of course, the store manager was horrified at seeing her and ran away to phone police.
"I'll only be a minute!!!" Insecta cackled, as the man ran past her.
She found an expensive licorice liqueur and decided it was high time they had produced such nectar of the gods. After discovering the company name and location on the bottle, she decided to fly there and raid their goods. Unfortunately, the liqueur began to take effect before she flew completely out the city. And Insecta crash landed into the Stardust casino's neon sign....
...Detective Mangy struggled to break free from the grasp of the security men that Mr. Z ordered to take her hostage. Mr. Z watched as they tried to subdue her. But Mangy caught sight of her new red pumps and something inside suddenly erupted. Detective Mangy twirled her body at such a high rate of speed, the two men who held her were thrown clear into the walls at either end of the office. Both were rendered unconscious.
"You are a moron!!!" she screamed at Mr. Z and flexed her biceps until her face turned red and the cuffs snapped as if they were made of string.
Seeing a safe chance to help out, Count Beaumont emerged from behind the sofa and flapped his wings in what he assumed would look like a kung fu manuever.
"You traitor!" Mr. Z yelled at Count Beaumont,"I knew it was you. Cheetah! You rat!"
He ran behind his desk as Detective Mangy followed to try to restrain him. But before she got close, he'd pressed a button which opened a trap door immediately beneath him and he fell through. To where, Detective Mangy could not ascertain as the door reclosed as soon as he was through. Leaving Detective Mangy and Count Lee -- uh, Beaumont alone except for two unconsious security guards.
"We've got to get downstairs and find him now," Mangy said to Count Beaumont feeling dizzy and bewildered as her superpowers seemed to fade away. The penguin made quickly for the door and Detective Mangy joined him as they both went on a search for the downstair staircase....
At least 30 Las Vegas police officers stood within a yellow crime scene tape cordon staring at the unconcious body of what appeared to be an enormous blonde fly. Little did they know she was starting to regain consciousness - albeit somewhat intoxicated - but very angry at making such a stupid mistake.
"uuhhhhhhh," she finally gasped.
"Stand back, draw your arms," one officer commanded.
Insecta attempted to stand up. At first she felt back down a couple of times. But finally she stood up. she turned around and noticed all the officers and cackled yet again. It was as if the very laugh restored her strength to full. With that, she flew away far too rapidly for anyone to do a thing about it....
Captain Tombeau and Lion Bree remained trapped in two tightly woven cocoons. They knew she'd be back to ruin their day again.
"What are we going to do?" asked Lion frustrated.
"Be patient. Detective Mangy is probably working on another lead. Once she gets something conclusive she'll check back with me. When she can't get me, she'll know to come looking for us both."
What Captain Tombeau didn't know was his officers were already tryiing to reach him after they found Insecta and let her get away. Already the police force was looking for Captain tombeau. But would they get to Captain Tombeau in time?
...Detective Mangy moved slowly and quietly down a dark hallway in the basement of the bordello casino. Beaumont followed at her feet, twitching somewhat nervously. Out of the blue, he pulled a blunt from his pocket. With his free wing, he lit a lighter. He took two puffs and exhaled. All this, as Detective Mangy stood staring at him in disbelief.
"What the hell are you doing?!" She asked in a shouted whisper.
"Trying to ease my little penguin nerves," he replied. He offered Detective Mangy the blunt which stilled burned.
"Oh what the hell. Everybody's doing it these days, I guess," she replied taking the blunt from Count Beaumont. Detective Mangy realized it was nicer than she thought. It was relaxing and after the 12th hit and lot of angry protest about hogging it, she finally handed it back to Count beaumont.
What little light there had been in the hallway was fogged over by the time the two were done. They sat, citing how tired they were and how hard the day had been. An hour passed. Finally Detective Mangy realized it was time to give up on Mr. Z.
"I've got to get back to the precinct, but first let's go free Cheetah Kittens," she said with excitement to count beaumont. he merely grinned in reply...
Insecta returned to where she kept the captain tombeau and lion bree tied up. She had hatched a new plan.
"You two are not that much fun to be honest. It's not interesting to steal the fun from workaholics because there's not much fun in that. I'd rather pop the balloon of a five year old in the park," she said grinning, "or - say - destroy a new year's eve party with stories of vomit and bar room sleeping."
She buzzed around the alley, pacing in the air back and forth in front of the two hostages.
"No, I think I'll let you go. But first, I'll use you as bargaining chips. Captain Tombeau, in exchange for you, I demand 12,000 bottles of Licorice Liqueur. And lion bree - the same for you. You each get one phone call to a friend - not the cops - to set up the deal. You have two hours or you will get dropped from high up in the air onto the strip."
She freed one arm of each prisoner and handed each a cell phone. She then made a call of her own to Mr. Z. He told her of the backfired plan to swoon Detective Mangy.
"I told you you were stupid to even pursue her. She's not an idiot you moron!!!" screamed insecta.
"you're the second person to call me a moron today. Detective Mangy was first. By the way, she seems to have developed some rather unusual superpowers," he added. He finished by explaining he was laying low because o f what had happened and asked Insecta to clean up some of the mess that was made...namely kill Detective mangy before the investigation ended up destroying his casino and his empire.
"I'll be glad to steal her pumps," Insecta said in her sultriest guttural warble.
Dizzy Tombeau and Lion Bree each had reached a trusted friend and explained the demand. Both of the parties phoned were first bewildered but being trusting friends agreed to start meeting the demands.
Insecta snidely thanked the gentlemen for their "competent and vigorous pursuit" of the aforementioned demands.
"But for now, I must go. I have a final date with an angel......"
Mr. Z had no intentions of letting Detective Mangy be harmed. He was drawing out Insecta into a trap because he had found his old love and wanted to now resume dating etc. Of course he knew the chances were slim and would require some careful plotting to re-woo her. But Insecta's usefulness had run out and she was dangerous to keep around becuase of her unpredictable nature. He had given an abandoned warehouse address to Insecta. Knowing she'd trust him and go there without thinking about it. He had some men plant a bomb there. It was just a matter of waiting for the right moment.
Meanwhile, suffering from munchies, Detective Mangy and Count Beaumont stopped at Kentucky Fried Chicken. Cheetah Kittens was no where to be found in the casino and no one knew if she'd wandered off or was being held somewhere hidden. Mangy and Beaumont ordered food and sat.
Detective mangy did finally try to call her boss, and, unsuccessful, reached the precinct where they informed her of his disappearance and of the crashlanding and escape of insecta.
"hmmm. she's probably got him, " Detective mangy said to Count beaumont.
"and lion bree," responded Count beaumont with a raised eyebrow, "don't forget he was kidnapped too."
"She's trying to draw me out into the open or at least distract me. Mr. Z isn't behind this. All he wanted was for me to be assigned the case involving him so we'd meet up. He can't want disorder in the city. it's bad for his business too," she said, her mind becoming more focused.
Just then, she looked down at her shoes again and a strange feeling came over her. A cloudy vapor formed just above her shoes. Inside of it was a series of images - of Insecta flying through the air and old industrial district.
"that's a vision. it's a vision of some kind. It's like it's telling me where insecta is," Detective Mangy said with surprise.
"What?!" asked beaumont who could not see the vapor or the vision."The shoes! They do have special powers. I've got to learn how to use them!" She said excited.
"Yeah, like how you learned to program your VCR, right?" Count Beaumont countered and finished off the last chicken breast.
"We've got to find that industrial district and where she's headed there." Detective mangy said with urgency...
Cheetah Kittens was still locked away inside a small room that was hidden behind a large bookcase in Mr. Z's office. In his rush to leave, he forgot about her. She continued to wait patiently, hoping that Count Beaumont would remember her and convince someone to help her before it was too late....
Friday, June 03, 2005
Let's Hear it for the Boys
So, recently I posted about some really bad dates. This lead me to a great book idea (anyone with connections listing?) to write a book entitled 50 Worst Dates where I collect true stories of dating nightmares to make single gals like me feel better about themselves. I intend to follow this with the sequel 50 Worst Break-up/Love notes to which I also have a plethora of stories for my favorite readers.
What I never considered was that boys can have bad dates too. Mr. Ray contributed this lovely tidbit about his dating nightmares and I think its blogworthy and (hopefully) book worthy.
Thanks so much for letting me share this Mr. Ray:
I had just moved back from Iowa. I met a nice Korean girl from Minnesota, and we met up in Adams-Morgan. She really didn't know the city too well, and I needed to knock some of the rust off my DCKnowledge, so we drove off on a mini-sight-seeing tour. She wanted to make sure that I didn't just date Asian girls. I said "uh, a couple during college, I guess. Why?"
She explained to me about "Yellow Fever." As though that's why I'd go out with her.
We walked around Georgetown, going through the campus. We just HAPPENED to walk by the Exorcist house. It's gone through a lot of renovations since the movie, but it's still the Exorcist house. She started dancing in front of it, almost like a hippie chick listening to 10000 maniacs. "I love the Exorcist, I love the Exorcist" was her little song.
I never called her back.
So ladies, a sad but true fact, that it ain't just females getting stuck with the abnormal dating pool. Hopefully, we'll get Mr. Ray to tell us a few more stories because I know he has more than this. Have a great weekend.
Smooch,
G
What I never considered was that boys can have bad dates too. Mr. Ray contributed this lovely tidbit about his dating nightmares and I think its blogworthy and (hopefully) book worthy.
Thanks so much for letting me share this Mr. Ray:
I had just moved back from Iowa. I met a nice Korean girl from Minnesota, and we met up in Adams-Morgan. She really didn't know the city too well, and I needed to knock some of the rust off my DCKnowledge, so we drove off on a mini-sight-seeing tour. She wanted to make sure that I didn't just date Asian girls. I said "uh, a couple during college, I guess. Why?"
She explained to me about "Yellow Fever." As though that's why I'd go out with her.
We walked around Georgetown, going through the campus. We just HAPPENED to walk by the Exorcist house. It's gone through a lot of renovations since the movie, but it's still the Exorcist house. She started dancing in front of it, almost like a hippie chick listening to 10000 maniacs. "I love the Exorcist, I love the Exorcist" was her little song.
I never called her back.
So ladies, a sad but true fact, that it ain't just females getting stuck with the abnormal dating pool. Hopefully, we'll get Mr. Ray to tell us a few more stories because I know he has more than this. Have a great weekend.
Smooch,
G
Thursday, June 02, 2005
Insecta, Episode 7
Insecta
Episode 7, "left standing at the altar with elvis"
Before one can appreciate the total gravity of what Mr. Z had become since relocating to Las Vegas and opening his casinos, one must know the story of his first trip to Vegas, ten years prior. It is a fact that Mr. Z. originally came to Sin City on a gambling junket with several friends to celebrate New Year's eve and surprise the love of his life, Mangia Ginacina. They met while students and dorm mates at Stanford University. In those days, Mangia was studying biochemistry as a hobby and pursuing dreams of being Miss California and ultimately Miss World domination. Had it not been for the fact that Mangia forgot her top in the bikini contest part of the pageant, many pegged her to win it all.
Mr. Z was there that fateful night which ended with more laughs than tears. But the two were fast friends and, at times, lovers during their collegiate days and continue to be close after graduation. It was during one of those post-graduation years that Mangia, Mr. Z. and roughly 6 or so other friends all decided to spend New Year's in Vegas.
They came from New Jersey actually. After the pageant debacle, Mangia's notoriety in California was overwhelming so she relocated to live near Mr. Z. Mangia did like Mr. Z. could even be said to love Mr. Z but wasn't really ready to settle down at that time. Mr. Z. was so obsessed with Mangia, he bottled his intense feelings and played it cool to avoid scaring her away, hoping her resistance would eventually turn to intense passion (which he thought would be the same as common sense) and be his blushing bride.
When the group arrived in Vegas, Mr. Z. finally asked her to marry him. It was the night after New Year's Eve. Mr. Z thought this would help him immeasurably in remembering his anniversary date years from now. As they exited the Bellagio with thousands in earnings from Mangia's expert roulette play, Mr. Z. dipped to one knee and produced a large diamond in the shape of an apple from his pocket. As he asked the question, staring into Mangia's eyes, she actually blushed and giggled. It wasn't that she thought he was crazy. The idea was romantic enough. But in Vegas, unbeknownst to Mr. Z, she felt like she was in adult Disneyworld -- a playground where everything was make believe and fantasy. Mr. Z didn't know it at that time but truly he would have faired better had he asked her in Jersey where she could have said flat out, "I've dated worms and I've dated cockroaches. I've drank more tequila than swapped spit. I can say I know myself well enough to know that, as sweet as you are, Mr. Z, you'll eventually snap and become a crazed lunatic, bitter at the world." But she was in Vegas where people tend to go with the flow more. And the flow that night was - in point of fact - cheaply made magaritas served in plastic pipe containers.
To make a long story short, she agreed in a state of drunkenness to shock everyone else in the group. Mr. Z had found an elvis marriage chapel and quickly told Mangia to return to her hotel room, dress up in her nicest gown and meet him there in 30 minutes. Mangia, beside herself with laughter agreed and the two parted to get ready. One hour and 45 minutes later, a crestfallen Mr. Z stood in a rented tux next to Elvis, realizing he'd been had.
Elvis was very sympathetic, "you're not the first to be left standing there, fella," Elvis paused and began to nibble at a peanut butter and bacon sandwich. "I'd say 1/3 of the people who sign up end up backing out. I think they just aren't drunk enough to commit."
Mr. Z was unconsolable. And so embarrassed he left his gambling junket and never reappeared to the group for the rest of the trip. He sent a telegram to Mangia explaining his embarrassment and that he had been serious and now needed time to console himself.
Little did Mr. Z know how much his fortune would shift in the next 24 hours. He sat sipping bourbon the rest of the night and playing quarter slots until the three elusive bars lined up all nice and pretty on the screen of the slot machine. and in the blink of an eye, he won the casino's 10 million dollar progressive jackpot. He bought a home and invested the rest. Settled down and slowly built his wealth. One day he got his foot in the door of the Strip business by going in as a partner on a new casino called the bordello. Finally, he bought out his partner and became the sole owner. In ten years, he'd risen to the level of casino owner on the strip from essentially nothing.
Mangia was different. After the junket, she was upset about all that happened with her close friend Mr. Z until she got home to Jersey and saw there was a sale on Louis Vitton at a local boutique. It would be two more years before she returned to Vegas with friends, by that time thinking of Mr. Z only now and then. She had no idea he had risen the ranks in town. In fact, she'd gambled in his casinos before though she was totally unaware.
Mangia was mugged on this second trip. The experience with the police and especially the desire to carry a gun was so overwhelming, Mangia signed on for police training. Graduating at the top of her class, expert marksmenship, top code cracker, best dressed, forensic genius, etc. Captain Dizzy Tombeau stated at her graduation, "crime will fade from Vegas with Detective Mangy on the job."
The years passed, commendations came and went, police softball league trophies, perps pinched, thugs thwarted, etc. Mangia had come into her own and was riding the wave of crime stopping.
It was ten years ago that fateful night took place. Mr Z. saved the ring. He had read of the heroics of Detective Mangy in the papers. At first the knowledge she too worked and lived in Vegas was heartbreaking. But then, he thought we're older and wiser. Perhaps now, she'll join me and Elvis in marital bliss."
Unfortunately, Mr. Z had become crazed with his obsession and partnered with Insecta in an effort to draw Detective Mangy to him in a way where he wouldn't seem like a stalker. And Detective Mangy was already dating someone anyway. A fellow named Biff who fixed her double Latte at Starbuck's with just the right amount of sass...
....be sure to tune in for the next episode, "drunk on licorice flavored liqueur, insecta crashes into the Stardust sign" or "the magic pumps finally come alive"
Episode 7, "left standing at the altar with elvis"
Before one can appreciate the total gravity of what Mr. Z had become since relocating to Las Vegas and opening his casinos, one must know the story of his first trip to Vegas, ten years prior. It is a fact that Mr. Z. originally came to Sin City on a gambling junket with several friends to celebrate New Year's eve and surprise the love of his life, Mangia Ginacina. They met while students and dorm mates at Stanford University. In those days, Mangia was studying biochemistry as a hobby and pursuing dreams of being Miss California and ultimately Miss World domination. Had it not been for the fact that Mangia forgot her top in the bikini contest part of the pageant, many pegged her to win it all.
Mr. Z was there that fateful night which ended with more laughs than tears. But the two were fast friends and, at times, lovers during their collegiate days and continue to be close after graduation. It was during one of those post-graduation years that Mangia, Mr. Z. and roughly 6 or so other friends all decided to spend New Year's in Vegas.
They came from New Jersey actually. After the pageant debacle, Mangia's notoriety in California was overwhelming so she relocated to live near Mr. Z. Mangia did like Mr. Z. could even be said to love Mr. Z but wasn't really ready to settle down at that time. Mr. Z. was so obsessed with Mangia, he bottled his intense feelings and played it cool to avoid scaring her away, hoping her resistance would eventually turn to intense passion (which he thought would be the same as common sense) and be his blushing bride.
When the group arrived in Vegas, Mr. Z. finally asked her to marry him. It was the night after New Year's Eve. Mr. Z thought this would help him immeasurably in remembering his anniversary date years from now. As they exited the Bellagio with thousands in earnings from Mangia's expert roulette play, Mr. Z. dipped to one knee and produced a large diamond in the shape of an apple from his pocket. As he asked the question, staring into Mangia's eyes, she actually blushed and giggled. It wasn't that she thought he was crazy. The idea was romantic enough. But in Vegas, unbeknownst to Mr. Z, she felt like she was in adult Disneyworld -- a playground where everything was make believe and fantasy. Mr. Z didn't know it at that time but truly he would have faired better had he asked her in Jersey where she could have said flat out, "I've dated worms and I've dated cockroaches. I've drank more tequila than swapped spit. I can say I know myself well enough to know that, as sweet as you are, Mr. Z, you'll eventually snap and become a crazed lunatic, bitter at the world." But she was in Vegas where people tend to go with the flow more. And the flow that night was - in point of fact - cheaply made magaritas served in plastic pipe containers.
To make a long story short, she agreed in a state of drunkenness to shock everyone else in the group. Mr. Z had found an elvis marriage chapel and quickly told Mangia to return to her hotel room, dress up in her nicest gown and meet him there in 30 minutes. Mangia, beside herself with laughter agreed and the two parted to get ready. One hour and 45 minutes later, a crestfallen Mr. Z stood in a rented tux next to Elvis, realizing he'd been had.
Elvis was very sympathetic, "you're not the first to be left standing there, fella," Elvis paused and began to nibble at a peanut butter and bacon sandwich. "I'd say 1/3 of the people who sign up end up backing out. I think they just aren't drunk enough to commit."
Mr. Z was unconsolable. And so embarrassed he left his gambling junket and never reappeared to the group for the rest of the trip. He sent a telegram to Mangia explaining his embarrassment and that he had been serious and now needed time to console himself.
Little did Mr. Z know how much his fortune would shift in the next 24 hours. He sat sipping bourbon the rest of the night and playing quarter slots until the three elusive bars lined up all nice and pretty on the screen of the slot machine. and in the blink of an eye, he won the casino's 10 million dollar progressive jackpot. He bought a home and invested the rest. Settled down and slowly built his wealth. One day he got his foot in the door of the Strip business by going in as a partner on a new casino called the bordello. Finally, he bought out his partner and became the sole owner. In ten years, he'd risen to the level of casino owner on the strip from essentially nothing.
Mangia was different. After the junket, she was upset about all that happened with her close friend Mr. Z until she got home to Jersey and saw there was a sale on Louis Vitton at a local boutique. It would be two more years before she returned to Vegas with friends, by that time thinking of Mr. Z only now and then. She had no idea he had risen the ranks in town. In fact, she'd gambled in his casinos before though she was totally unaware.
Mangia was mugged on this second trip. The experience with the police and especially the desire to carry a gun was so overwhelming, Mangia signed on for police training. Graduating at the top of her class, expert marksmenship, top code cracker, best dressed, forensic genius, etc. Captain Dizzy Tombeau stated at her graduation, "crime will fade from Vegas with Detective Mangy on the job."
The years passed, commendations came and went, police softball league trophies, perps pinched, thugs thwarted, etc. Mangia had come into her own and was riding the wave of crime stopping.
It was ten years ago that fateful night took place. Mr Z. saved the ring. He had read of the heroics of Detective Mangy in the papers. At first the knowledge she too worked and lived in Vegas was heartbreaking. But then, he thought we're older and wiser. Perhaps now, she'll join me and Elvis in marital bliss."
Unfortunately, Mr. Z had become crazed with his obsession and partnered with Insecta in an effort to draw Detective Mangy to him in a way where he wouldn't seem like a stalker. And Detective Mangy was already dating someone anyway. A fellow named Biff who fixed her double Latte at Starbuck's with just the right amount of sass...
....be sure to tune in for the next episode, "drunk on licorice flavored liqueur, insecta crashes into the Stardust sign" or "the magic pumps finally come alive"
Wednesday, June 01, 2005
my uncle larry...
for those of you that don't know, i lost my (great) uncle larry this weekend.... i'm quite bummed by this considering i was extremely close to him and my aunt... i lived with them for a short time through college and my uncle took my father under his wing when his own dad passed away at 3... i was asked to write a speech about him for the viewing... everyone there seemed to enjoy it and since you all don't know much about him... it's kind of the G way to know someone. before i get on to the laughs first, i should preface by stating my uncle was the nicest person i ever got the chance to meet.. the fact that i was actually related to him, not only makes me happy but makes me hope i can be half the person he was...
You would think writing something to describe Uncle Larry wouldn’t take that long. After all, everyone knows him as the smiling person always helping someone. So thinking of a few words to say, shouldn’t be challenging. What’s challenging is just that.. thinking of a few words to describe someone who managed to touch so many people in so many different ways.
We tried different ways to approach this… thinking, looking through old pictures… I even decided to open the dictionary to “L” to see what I could find:
Landlubber: now here is the exact opposite of Uncle Larry. If he wasn’t on a boat, he was usually going to or just came from one. A true fish taleteller, a big “oh boy” would accompany every story… whether it be the big one that got away or the guppy they threw back. Either story was just as exciting to him. Oddly, fishing and golfing related words were the few that always managed to pass through his “selective hearing”. While Uncle Larry didn’t always hear everything words like: bait, tackle, hook, sinker, club, tee and catch never escaped his attention.
Laxative: I’m sure few people have not heard the story of the great “Northern Explosion”, when Uncle Larry decided to have a very large glass of prune juice while he and Aunt Jeanne cruised through Alaska. No family member has since returned to those icy waters.
Onward through the “l”s to Lost: Something that Uncle Larry often was. One example would be when Uncle Larry went missing through a giant flea market. After a caravan of cars with Aunt Jeanne yelling her infamous “Lar, LAR, LARRY” out the window, Uncle Larry was found in his famous floppy fishing hat carrying his prized box of seashells he purchased for 2 dollars (little did he know that all of them were broken)… as punishment, he was forced to wear a bell around his neck the rest of the weekend so we knew where he was at all times.
Love: While this word encompasses anyone that he knew or that knew him, it is embodied by one person, his heart and soul also known as his wife.
Lucky: this would define anyone who had the privilege to know him. Whether it was the people he’d help while volunteering at St. Vincent De Paul, his neighbors who received his gracious trashcan front door delivery service or his house guests that had clean car windows every morning.
Lyric: On a recent trip to their second home (also known as Atlantic City), Uncle Larry was karaoking his way through a Roy Orbison tape. In fact, there was never a party, dance or tune that Uncle Larry didn’t enjoy. For one family wedding he purposely got a shot in his hip so he could spend time on the dance floor or as he called it “Girls Gone Wild”.
And while we searched a dictionary full of words and a lifetime of memories and still couldn’t fully define or encompass the father, friend and person he was, I think Mr. Orbison may have been closest when he wrote: “anything you want, you got it, anything you need, you got it, anything at all, you got it”
That to me would be the best definition of Uncle Larry.
You would think writing something to describe Uncle Larry wouldn’t take that long. After all, everyone knows him as the smiling person always helping someone. So thinking of a few words to say, shouldn’t be challenging. What’s challenging is just that.. thinking of a few words to describe someone who managed to touch so many people in so many different ways.
We tried different ways to approach this… thinking, looking through old pictures… I even decided to open the dictionary to “L” to see what I could find:
Landlubber: now here is the exact opposite of Uncle Larry. If he wasn’t on a boat, he was usually going to or just came from one. A true fish taleteller, a big “oh boy” would accompany every story… whether it be the big one that got away or the guppy they threw back. Either story was just as exciting to him. Oddly, fishing and golfing related words were the few that always managed to pass through his “selective hearing”. While Uncle Larry didn’t always hear everything words like: bait, tackle, hook, sinker, club, tee and catch never escaped his attention.
Laxative: I’m sure few people have not heard the story of the great “Northern Explosion”, when Uncle Larry decided to have a very large glass of prune juice while he and Aunt Jeanne cruised through Alaska. No family member has since returned to those icy waters.
Onward through the “l”s to Lost: Something that Uncle Larry often was. One example would be when Uncle Larry went missing through a giant flea market. After a caravan of cars with Aunt Jeanne yelling her infamous “Lar, LAR, LARRY” out the window, Uncle Larry was found in his famous floppy fishing hat carrying his prized box of seashells he purchased for 2 dollars (little did he know that all of them were broken)… as punishment, he was forced to wear a bell around his neck the rest of the weekend so we knew where he was at all times.
Love: While this word encompasses anyone that he knew or that knew him, it is embodied by one person, his heart and soul also known as his wife.
Lucky: this would define anyone who had the privilege to know him. Whether it was the people he’d help while volunteering at St. Vincent De Paul, his neighbors who received his gracious trashcan front door delivery service or his house guests that had clean car windows every morning.
Lyric: On a recent trip to their second home (also known as Atlantic City), Uncle Larry was karaoking his way through a Roy Orbison tape. In fact, there was never a party, dance or tune that Uncle Larry didn’t enjoy. For one family wedding he purposely got a shot in his hip so he could spend time on the dance floor or as he called it “Girls Gone Wild”.
And while we searched a dictionary full of words and a lifetime of memories and still couldn’t fully define or encompass the father, friend and person he was, I think Mr. Orbison may have been closest when he wrote: “anything you want, you got it, anything you need, you got it, anything at all, you got it”
That to me would be the best definition of Uncle Larry.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)