Everyone loves a quickie...but this one ends with death.

I’m a little bit bogged down with work today and I’m doing a freelance gig, so I don’t have all the time in the world to talk about what I really want to discuss with you: my fight club I created with my roommate leaving me with a horribly disfigured bruise that impresses me with a darker shade of black each day I wake up, Halloween shenanigans and my inability to stay awake at work etc. However, I had to share a few things with you:

1.) Quote my therapist (yes therapist, pretty people have problems too), “Kido this is New York—everyone has a Blackberry and a therapist. Welcome to the club.”
2.) Speaking of being welcomed to the club, there were a few weeks where every morning I got a bagel from the breakfast vendor guy on the corner of Madison and 41st. I stopped last week because I am poor and can’t afford a dollar bagel every morning (“aint got no cash, but I stay fly”). This morning, however, I decided to splurge and get a bagel again. I waited in line, walked up to the friendly bagel vendor and he immediately put a sesame bagel with light cream cheese in a bag and asked, “I haven’t seen you in a while! Is everything okay? How are you doing? Is it work?” I was truly taken aback. I don’t think even my dad’s asked me those questions with such honest interest and worry. I damn near asked if that gentle Afghani man wanted to spoon.
3.) Most importantly, R.I.P. Robert Goulet.

"

I have a real love for Robert Goulet. May you croon in heavan sir.

I leave with you some classic Goulet sent to me by my roommate Serena:
In an interview leading up to the date, Goulet spoke his mind to the Syracuse New Times on the state of music--"

“I don’t listen to Britney Spears. She has no voice at all, and she’s made $100 billion, and I’ve made 28 cents."

--And his personal recipe for success:

"I stick to good lyrics and good music," Goulet said. "I don’t sing junk."

A sad sha la la,
Patsy

Back to you Jan...

I have a confession: I LOVE watching local news. This obsession started when I realized a big time news TV personality lived on my ticker-treat route. As a young child I knew the rule, hit up the biggest house on the block first. I thought, “this guy is famous, and rich so his candy is bound to be good!” Well folks, you guessed it. Not only was his candy sub-par, he was an asshole.

Since that brush with local news stardom I became addicted. The city I currently live in has laugh out loud funny news for many reasons.

1) The newscasters look like they stepped out of the hit movie Anchorman. The male newscasters have a creepy faces. Their beady eyes appear to flash the words DO NOT LEAVE THIS MAN ALONE WITH YOUNG CHILDREN. The women have big giant hair and equally large teeth. The on-air females giggle/flit with everyone who comes on camera CONSTANTLY. These women even flirt with people off camera, and they wonder why they are stuck in a small news market.

2) One local news station in my area :cough NBC cough: sweetens the deal by allowing high school students to cover sporting events. These kids must be prompted to speak like the kids do now, you know with the slang. There is nothing everyone loves more than full on Internet dialogue. One young man shouted (while jumping up and down) :

“HI Y’ALL! 2 (mime the number 2) 2 NIGHT Will totes b the best game everaaahhH! My BFF is on the field and he is going to TEAR IT UP it is not even lols. I gtg but I’ll brb with the highlights (pretends to highlight invisible paper in hand). (mine the number 8) L8TARRRRRR”

I am not exaggerating his “youthful slang” if anything I downplayed the ridiculousness of his segment.

3) In addition to youth broadcasts the same station uses a 3D map of the area to “SHOW YOU WHERE THE NEWS HAPPENS!” Yet, the news never happens in this area. The map always ends up in another state, or a city far away. The only awesome news that happened in our area was when a guy ran over a police cruiser with his monster truck.

4) The local news also works hard to warn us all of hidden danger. I was lectured on the dangers of the Craig’s List black-market puppy ring. One night (during some quality NBC Thursday programming) at commercial breaks I was informed, “middle school youth received dangerous and detailed sexual education material…full story at 11.”

I admit I fell for the ploy. I was hoping the sex ed material was about poop fetishes or something equally odd. Yet when the story broke I had a hearty chuckle. The sex education scandal did not to place in the Pacific Northwest. I was disappointed the story did not even take place in nearby Montana or California. No, the sex ed scandal occurred in my home area of Western New York. The station draw in was a news story from over 2,400 miles away. I would not even call the sex education material dangerous, it just included up close pictures of the herp and other VD. Let me tell you there is no quicker way to stop pre-teen humping than pictures of the herp.

I think to combat their problem of lack of local news the media markets should go in together and pay off monster truck guy. Get him to once a week crush a new random car…they could even plant it. And it could be a big thing “where will monster truck guy strike?!” Give the appears that MTG is holding the area hostage. Interview people who are taking to drastic measures camouflage their cars. That is significantly better than weekly coverage on the farmers market.

And my parents thought both my majors developed no marketable skills.

I wish I could quit you,

Eddie

Law & Order on Mute

Right across the alley from my office building is the Mexican Consulate. There was a shooting there this morning (when I was just across the street! Although I didn't hear any shots fired...DAMN YOU PANDORA!) and 26 shots were fired! Now the entire office is huddled in the photo department room because it has the best view. It really is like watching "Law & Order" on mute because there are all of these surly looking old men in suits with pads of paper milling around. And there's those little yellow number taggy things all over the street to number the pieces of evidence or bullet shells they find. But in a glamorous twist of events, a bomb squad, the FBI, SWAT team, State Department schmoes and the ATF are also here.

...is it weird that I am 100% entertained by this and could watch it all day?

Hiding behind a metal trash can,
Patsy

Drinking Game Friday!

Happy Drinking Game Friday! Before we get into this weekend’s drinking game, I would like to just comment on something I saw walking from the Subway to work this morning. There was a homeless man (standard) sitting on the side of the street (standard) with a sign (standard) that said “tell me off for 25 cents!” (GENIUS). There are tons of people I would love to tell off right now, but can’t due to not wanting to lose my job, or lose friends or seem like that crazy girl. I’m just generally not the “telling you off” kind of girl, which is frustrating because it creates pent up aggression and anger that comes out at the wrong times towards people that really don’t deserve it. For example, one morning a few weeks ago, I was walking to work, at a crosswalk, and some girl was walking towards me and thought I should be the one to walk around her and not the other way around. The synapses fired at rapid speed in my brain to my mouth to shout TRICK GET OUT OF MY WAY. I think I got a “TRI-“ out before I realized not only was that unwarranted and inappropriate, it would also probably lead to a physical fight right before work…although I could have taken the bitch. But I digress. My point is, I think it’s healthy to take out all of your verbal frustrations out on some homeless guy who doesn’t give a fuck, and he gets a shiny quarter out of it! Genius! Although, if I were him I would charge atleast a dollar. This isn’t 1920 and a quarter doesn’t get you two matinee shows at the moving picture theater, a hot meal and an ice cream float.

Back to Drinking Game Friday! Now I know this is Halloween weekend, and everyone will be dressed up as a sexy “insert anything here,” and will be going out a-boozin, but if you have some time between candy, drunken costumed hookups and Halloween bar crawls, I highly recommend this game. This week is: The Soft-Core Porn Drinking Game!



I would normally show the cover of the movie my roommates and I played this game to last week (“Naked Sins” starring Jordan Styles and Tom Stone,) but I’m at work and just goggled image searched “Naked Sins” and then realized that that was quite possibly the worst idea in the entire world. So please deal with Mr. Rogers instead.

The Rules
Any soft-core porn movie will do, but I reiterate, it has to be soft-core, it won’t work as well with hardcore porn. Save that for when you don’t score with The Sexy Pirate.


1.) Drink (don’t chug, don’t take a shot, just a standard swallow ::that’s what she said:: will suffice) when a saxophone is playing.
2.) Drink when a tattoo is in plain sight during sex.
3.) Drink when a woman is wearing jewelry during sex (studs or such minor jewelry as a ring doesn’t count. I’m talking gaudy necklaces etc.)
4.) Drink once for a pierced navel and twice for a pierced nipple.
5.) Chug if a guy is wearing shitty jewelry (i.e. “a shitty ring,” as said my roommate Blair).
6.) Drink once if we’re talking fully shaved, drink twice for a landing strip and chug for a bush. My roommates and I struggled over when the rule is for a half-bush situation. I say drink whatever quantity you want.
7.) Drink twice if there’s sex not on a bed.
8.) Take a drink for a masturbation scene.
9.) Chug if there’s a three-way.
10.) Chug if an unexpected visitor leads to sex.
11.) Chug if there’s sex in a public place.
12.) Chug for girl/girl sex.
13.) Finish your drink if there’s a shitty ring half-bush combo.

Happy Drunken Halloween Weekend! Be safe and get some for me.

Sha la la!
Patsy

"Ain't Got No Faith (Catholic)"

Preface I love my grandmother. Like older women she is a bit on the odd side. Her personality is not a function of old age, she was always delightfully ditzy. You might be asking yourself what is up with a random grandma outburst. Well, she called me recently and we had following exchange early on a Sunday morning.

Eddie: Hello?
Grandma: Hello Eddie, this is your grandmother. I am sorry were you sleeping? What time is it out there…are you three hours behind or ahead?
Eddie: (lying) I was not sleeping, and it is three hours behind. How are you doing?
Grandma: I am very good but your grandfather [insert 4 minuets of chatting about how he is a “stubborn Mick” and has a cold] that is not the reason I called.
Eddie: Oh?
Grandma: I met the most amazing young man at Mass. He was talking about saving the world. I think you have so much in common!
Eddie: OK…
Grandma: (with growing excitement) He used to work in California with runaway teens. Now he works in an orphanage in Africa!
Eddie: Wow, he sounds like a great person.
Grandma: HE IS! There is a small catch, he is becoming a Catholic Priest. But I think he wants to be a husband and father. Eddie, you two would make a great couple. I told him about you and he sounded interested! You need to snatch him up before some other worldly woman gets him. It is match made in heaven, you two can save the world and I get great-grand babies!

Later on in the conversation I found out the “young man” is in his early forties. The future Priests’ last name is my mother’s maiden name meaning we are distantly related (than again aren't we all). My grandmother wants to have babies around so badly she would marry me off to a distantly related Catholic Priest who lives on another continent.

I wish I could quit you,

Eddie

Friday Drinking Game!

Oh, how we love our 2birds1blog readers. All five of you. Dearly. Thus we are starting a little bit of a tradition around this rickiety old blog: Drinking Game Fridays. Every Friday, Eddie and/or I will create a movie drinking game for our readers to enjoy.

This week: The Brokeback Mountain Drinking Game!


The game was originally developed by Eddie and our good friend, Chris, from the hilarious and addictive blog Kosher/Eucharist (www.koshereucharist.com), so send your ER bills to them. Chris, or “Tulane Chris” as he is affectionately known with Eddie and I, decided to skip Mardi Gras for a year and come to our fair city for “Non Gras”. The weekend was full of shenanigans and debauchery; including the birth of the Brokeback Mountain Drinking Game. Tulane Chris and Eddie are badasses with an affinity for public drinking, so they actually played the game in the movie theater. I can still attest that this game gets the job done (quite nicely,) as I played it in the comfort of my own apartment (I DO NOT DRINK IN PUBLIC PLACES THANK YOU…bahaha it’s funny when I lie to myself and others) with Eddie, my college roommate and my oldest friend slash one of my current Brooklyn roommates. We played drinking White Russians, and as my current roommate said reflecting back upon the game, “that was my first time drinking White Russians…and that well may have been my last time drinking White Russians.” In other words— warning, this game is potent. Take it Eddie!

Step one: mix several strong alcoholic mixed drinks. Acceptable drink choices for the game:

- Screwdrivers
- Rum and Cokes
- Goldschläger and cokes
- Goldschläger, rum and cokes
- Bad whiskey given to your parents as a wedding gift mixed with flat diet coke
- Bottle(s) of Andre

The Rules are Simple

1) Drink Every time someone in the movie takes a drink. No shots, no chugging, just sipping. Closeted gay cowboys drink to hide their true feelings. Just following this rule WILL make you fall down drunk. Chris and I played the game in the theater (thanks boot flask!) and we had to stop mid-movie for fear of liver failure.

a. If this rule becomes too intense, have the room pick a cowboy and drink with him.

2) Finish your drink every time the cowboys have anal sex.

3) If still functioning take a shot during the line "I wish I knew how to quit you."

4) Take a large gulp of your drink during any hate crime.



Have a great weekend and take 2 shots for us!
Xoxo
Patsy & Eddie

First Grade Frustration

As you all can tell I have writing issues. Spelling and grammar mistakes are just a tip of the iceberg; I also have horrid handwriting.

When I was in elementary school I was pulled out of “normal” class to work on my handwriting/spelling. Twice a week I walked myself to a small room behind the cafatorium. Once there I was greeted by a sweet young teacher who would fill my time with arbitrary therapeutic tasks such as pulling pegs out of clay.

I was not the only student in my class; there were other “special” kids. A set of mildly inbred twins would join in on our fun! And there was a girl with an IQ below 65 who had a drooling problem. Occasionally drooling girl would have a fits that required physical restraint and transfer to a padded room.

My “issues” team decided my love for crafts could be combined with therapy for optimum results. On Fridays I would bring home potholders, paint by number projects, coasters, and crappy spelling tests. I was a frustrated perfectionist child with a major flaw. I wanted a normal well adjusted childhood; I was already a chubby kid so having classes with the weird smelling farm boys did not help social prospects. After one grueling spelling test I decided to give up, I resolved to fight fire with cheating.

To understand my method a visual is necessary.

I hid my spelling list (aka crib sheet) in the desk slot. Due to the desktop overhang my secret was hidden from the world. I knew getting every word right was not a wise move, a kid was could not fail for years and magically start pulling 115% (ahh bonus words.) I decided to gradually increase my cheating to curb adult suspicion.

To this day I am surprised none of the adults in my life caught on to the scheme. I was praised by everyone; it appeared all the hard work paid off.
- The educators were happy. The system worked another kid saved!
- I was happy! Goodbye friendship with farm twins and drooling girl!
- My parents were happy because Thursdays no longer consisted of Eddie sobbing at the dinner table for hours trying (with no luck) to spell words correctly!

I know my flaw is hard for several of you 2birds readers. The world is not perfect, and I am no exception. You might be thinking to yourself “Well Eddie, if you just kept trying and did not take the easy way out with cheating maybe you would improve.” Well readers (all two of you) turns out that is not true. Later it was discovered I have a nice little disorder with a fancy name that makes writing very difficult.

I have embraced my failures completely. Unlike most people I do not avoid things because of my weakness, I would not be blogging if that was the case. I ask for y’all to dig deep and find it in your hearts to love me, visible flaws and all.

I wish I could quit you,

Eddie