From the classified section of the Washington Post, Women Seeking Men:
"Contract fell thru, back on market. Darling Cape Cod, built like a brick house in the late 1950's. Blonde roof, blue windows, gourmet kitchen, extensive library, lovely master budoir. Many levels. Should go quickly. Shown by appt."
Man I love the classifieds. The Post classifieds pale in comparison to The City Paper, but it's still pretty amusing. I appreciate this woman's attempt to be clever, even if it is in a bit of a "Bless This Mess!" kind of way...but I'm slightly confused by one specific part of her "house description." Let's dissect a few lines:
"Contract fell thru"
Divorced.
"Darling Cape Cod"
I'm assuming that means she's from New England? Or else she looks like a squat house by the ocean. For her sake, I'll assume she means she's from New England.
"Built like a brick house in the late 1950's"
She's got a fat ass and is in her late 40's/early 50's. Unless "built like a brick house," means she's a strong and stable woman. I took it in a "She's mighty, mighty. Lettin' all hang out" kind of way myself, but I'm partial to funk music.
"Back on market"
hey HAY hey!
"Blonde roof"
Come on Cape Cod! You were doing such a good job until here! There's no such thing as a "blonde roof," and I expected more. Shame on you.
"Blue windows"
Blue eyes.
"Gourmet kitchen"
Cooks well and/or has a passion for food (thus supporting my Brick House theory.)
"Extensive library"
Well read.
"Lovely master boudoir"
...What? Exactly what is she referring to as her "master boudoir"? Am I completely alone in thinking this woman is talking about her vag? And if so, is she trying to communicate to possible future dates that her vag is lovely? Lovely is such a bizarre adjective to use in this situation. When I think of things that are lovely, I think of time spent with my grandparents, spring picnics and children's drawings, not so much my genitals.
However, out of all of the classifieds I read, this was the most memorable one (except for a woman who suggests "let's go praisin'!") and not just because she describes her "master boudoir." I felt inspired, and considering I'm a single woman looking for a man myself, I wrote my own house analogy:
Many rented, looking for a buyer. Awkward crack den, built like a hammock in the mid 1980's. Red roof, brown windows, fully stocked bar, good for parties, nice wine rack, carpet does not match drapes. Has pool, but is very shallow. Open house every weekend.
...God damn I'm a catch.
9.17.2008
9.16.2008
Everything I needed to know, I learned from HBO
Last night I was having dinner with my college roommate and for some reason the conversation turned to old swinger couples. My friend started talking pretty expertly on the subject and when she saw my eyebrow raise a bit, she quickly muttered under her breath, “I know this from…um…an episode of…[cough] Real Sex.” To which I shouted, “DUDE, I LOVE REAL SEX!!!” a little too loudly, which out of context is not appropriate to shout in a Cheesecake Factory.
I’ve had this exact same conversation with countless people (normally not in a Cheesecake Factory setting) and I wonder if HBO knows what a crucial role they played in the sexual education of an entire generation of kids who watched it on mute in their parent’s basement.
Remember when you were 12 and you were home on a Saturday night, bored senseless because you didn’t clean your room so you couldn’t have a sleepover, so you’re just looking at the TV guide channel hoping something good is on and you see Real Sex is coming on at like 11:30? That moment might trump how I felt the first time I saw my presents under the Christmas tree. The worst is when you get excited because “Real S-" is coming on in a few hours, so you stay up for the sole purpose of watching it and it turns out to be Real Sports with Bryant Gumble. That is the ultimate buzz kill. I did not stay up for two hours to watch Bob Costas with a very special report on Jackie Robinson’s daughter, thank you very much.
I have no idea what it is about watching soft-core 90’s porn that’s so fascinating, but it really is. On one level, it was kind of hot. It was on really late; was always prologued with HBO’s warning, This Show Contains: adult situations; nudity; adult language and—gasp—sensuality. Finally, it was the closest thing to porn you could access at such a young age (unless you were super futuristic and had the internet. Or if you found your parents’ porn stash, which I imagine to be more unsettling than anything else.) But once you take away the glamor of the forbidden, Real Sex is less hot and more disturbing because the show is exactly what it says it is—real sex. It’s pretty much just watching your neighbors have freak-nasty sex, and honestly, that’s a dish nobody at this table ordered.
But still, I'd like to thank HBO for molding my sexual identity with such memorable Real Sex segments as:
- Swingerfest: I watched this episode again recently for old time’s sake, and Jesus Christ on ice skates it’s disgusting. If you couldn’t tell from the title, Swingerfest is an event where a bunch of middle-aged white trash in campers get together and have group sex in the woods. Here, I’ll save you the trouble of watching it: picture that gym teacher whose mustache always made you feel uncomfortable in middle school. Now picture any given waitress at a rest stop Denny’s. Now picture them having sex on a trampoline and multiply that by 20. Now go stab yourself in the heart.
- Latex Love:
The best part of this segment is obviously the Baroness, a dominatrix who looks like Molly Shannon with the world’s most intense mullet ever wearing an oversized condom for a shirt. She basically walks around a conference room of people wearing latex clothing, spraying them with Pam and shinning them up like a brand new penny. I remember being specifically disturbed by the Baroness’ so-called Sucky Bed; two layers of latex a person is sandwiched between as the air is vacuumed out so they're hermetically sealed with a small breathing tube. If having panic attacks were sexy, I’d be so into this.
- Punani Poetry: This segment manages to combine two things I really hate—slam poetry and people repeatedly saying the word “pussy.”
- Macbeth in the Nude: This was one of the most boring segments ever. It’s about a town somewhere (Florida? Georgia?) where they ban nudity in private establishments unless it’s for artistic purposes, so a group of strippers half ass (no pun intended) a few acts of Macbeth topless. Bo-ring...
- The Blow Job Teacher: Before Andy Dick taught the girls in Old School how to give a good BJ, this woman did it on Real Sex. This episode produced the classic moment where the prim and proper looking teacher squeezes her practice penis’ balls and says, “This ladies, this is the heartbeat of America.”
- Pony Play: Because what ISN’T sexy about pretending you’re a horse and your husband is your trainer? Well, I guess the whole pretending you’re a horse and your husband is your trainer thing. I watched this episode for the first time a few summers ago with Blair and we were both equally disturbed. He still gets freaked out when I whinny at him (which I’ve discovered I can do disturbingly well.) I think my favorite part of this segment is the guy with the ridiculously long blonde ponytail who insists, “I’m a Parisian war pony!” Well hose me down and feed me a carrot!
Real Sex, take 5, that’s a wrap!
I’ve had this exact same conversation with countless people (normally not in a Cheesecake Factory setting) and I wonder if HBO knows what a crucial role they played in the sexual education of an entire generation of kids who watched it on mute in their parent’s basement.
Remember when you were 12 and you were home on a Saturday night, bored senseless because you didn’t clean your room so you couldn’t have a sleepover, so you’re just looking at the TV guide channel hoping something good is on and you see Real Sex is coming on at like 11:30? That moment might trump how I felt the first time I saw my presents under the Christmas tree. The worst is when you get excited because “Real S-" is coming on in a few hours, so you stay up for the sole purpose of watching it and it turns out to be Real Sports with Bryant Gumble. That is the ultimate buzz kill. I did not stay up for two hours to watch Bob Costas with a very special report on Jackie Robinson’s daughter, thank you very much.
I have no idea what it is about watching soft-core 90’s porn that’s so fascinating, but it really is. On one level, it was kind of hot. It was on really late; was always prologued with HBO’s warning, This Show Contains: adult situations; nudity; adult language and—gasp—sensuality. Finally, it was the closest thing to porn you could access at such a young age (unless you were super futuristic and had the internet. Or if you found your parents’ porn stash, which I imagine to be more unsettling than anything else.) But once you take away the glamor of the forbidden, Real Sex is less hot and more disturbing because the show is exactly what it says it is—real sex. It’s pretty much just watching your neighbors have freak-nasty sex, and honestly, that’s a dish nobody at this table ordered.
But still, I'd like to thank HBO for molding my sexual identity with such memorable Real Sex segments as:
- Swingerfest: I watched this episode again recently for old time’s sake, and Jesus Christ on ice skates it’s disgusting. If you couldn’t tell from the title, Swingerfest is an event where a bunch of middle-aged white trash in campers get together and have group sex in the woods. Here, I’ll save you the trouble of watching it: picture that gym teacher whose mustache always made you feel uncomfortable in middle school. Now picture any given waitress at a rest stop Denny’s. Now picture them having sex on a trampoline and multiply that by 20. Now go stab yourself in the heart.
- Latex Love:
The best part of this segment is obviously the Baroness, a dominatrix who looks like Molly Shannon with the world’s most intense mullet ever wearing an oversized condom for a shirt. She basically walks around a conference room of people wearing latex clothing, spraying them with Pam and shinning them up like a brand new penny. I remember being specifically disturbed by the Baroness’ so-called Sucky Bed; two layers of latex a person is sandwiched between as the air is vacuumed out so they're hermetically sealed with a small breathing tube. If having panic attacks were sexy, I’d be so into this.
- Punani Poetry: This segment manages to combine two things I really hate—slam poetry and people repeatedly saying the word “pussy.”
- Macbeth in the Nude: This was one of the most boring segments ever. It’s about a town somewhere (Florida? Georgia?) where they ban nudity in private establishments unless it’s for artistic purposes, so a group of strippers half ass (no pun intended) a few acts of Macbeth topless. Bo-ring...
- The Blow Job Teacher: Before Andy Dick taught the girls in Old School how to give a good BJ, this woman did it on Real Sex. This episode produced the classic moment where the prim and proper looking teacher squeezes her practice penis’ balls and says, “This ladies, this is the heartbeat of America.”
- Pony Play: Because what ISN’T sexy about pretending you’re a horse and your husband is your trainer? Well, I guess the whole pretending you’re a horse and your husband is your trainer thing. I watched this episode for the first time a few summers ago with Blair and we were both equally disturbed. He still gets freaked out when I whinny at him (which I’ve discovered I can do disturbingly well.) I think my favorite part of this segment is the guy with the ridiculously long blonde ponytail who insists, “I’m a Parisian war pony!” Well hose me down and feed me a carrot!
Real Sex, take 5, that’s a wrap!
9.14.2008
Let's start Monday off with a new feature
Introducing "That's a lot of Look..."
People don't dress well, ergo I make fun of them. I had mixed emotions about introducing this feature to the blog. My nightmare is that I become some jaded, surly blogger who writes all day about all of the various things she hates and how omg everyone is such a fucking moron, right, GAWD! Nobody likes that girl. That girl plays Second Life. And I honestly don't care if your trousers are a wee bit too high-waisted or you're wearing last year's boots. I'm not a shallow cunt, honest. (Well, most of the time.) However, some people make decisions regarding what they put on their bodies that boggles my fucking mind. Like this guy for example:
Let me explain what you're looking at. I discreetly snapped this kid's picture with my camera phone (I never said I wasn't creepy...) this past May when I was at AU's School of Public Affairs graduation (Alex became a man! L'Chaim!) I believe this nice Asian man had just gotten his Master's in international accounting or something equally frightening sounding. I spent the entire graduation ceremony drunk on disbelief because this man was wearing a bluetooth wireless phone headset the entire time. Seriously, the entire time. From the minute he marched in, in his graduation portrait taken right before he walked on stage, walking across stage, getting his diploma-- the whole fucking shebang!
Sir, how important are you in your own mind that you need to wear a wireless phone device during your own graduation? First of all, there is no reason besides driving a car, operating heavy machinery, performing surgery or being a double arm amputee that would warrant you to need a wireless phone headset. Your hands are free sir, and I would bet dollars to donuts that your pants have pockets. You have just graduated from AU with a Masters in something mathematical sounding, so I'm going to assume you can handle the following equation: cell phone + hand + slide it in your pocket/take it out when you need it = what normal people do. So unless you're wearing leggings under that robe and driving a Vespa across stage, there is absolutely no need to wear a hands-free phone set.
The only way that I can justify this man's actions is that he's anticipating the following situation to happen: He's hoping that his heroin addicted little brother whose been missing for two weeks straight will finally be picked up by the cops, after they found him face down in the snow, almost frozen to death, covered in his own piss. Now that he's hit rock bottom, his little brother knows that he's finally got to get his life together, so he uses his one call in jail to call his finance-loving big brother to bail him out and take him to rehab. However, our hero knows that it would be just his luck that his little brother would call him at the exact moment he's on stage when one hand is clutching his diploma, while the other is busy turning his mortarboard's tassel making it physically impossible to reach into his pants and grab his cell phone! Thus, his little brother will rot in jail trading sexual favors for cigarettes, all because his cry for help went unanswered.
...I actually stole part of that plot from the movie Kids and think it's more likely that this guy is just a douchebag whose super impressed with himself. You would think that a bright blue robe, gold cords and a ridiculous looking hat would be enough to make someone feel special, but not this guy. No, he won't feel vindicated until every man, woman and child in that stadium knows that not only do people call him, but his hands are frequently not free God damnit!
People don't dress well, ergo I make fun of them. I had mixed emotions about introducing this feature to the blog. My nightmare is that I become some jaded, surly blogger who writes all day about all of the various things she hates and how omg everyone is such a fucking moron, right, GAWD! Nobody likes that girl. That girl plays Second Life. And I honestly don't care if your trousers are a wee bit too high-waisted or you're wearing last year's boots. I'm not a shallow cunt, honest. (Well, most of the time.) However, some people make decisions regarding what they put on their bodies that boggles my fucking mind. Like this guy for example:
Let me explain what you're looking at. I discreetly snapped this kid's picture with my camera phone (I never said I wasn't creepy...) this past May when I was at AU's School of Public Affairs graduation (Alex became a man! L'Chaim!) I believe this nice Asian man had just gotten his Master's in international accounting or something equally frightening sounding. I spent the entire graduation ceremony drunk on disbelief because this man was wearing a bluetooth wireless phone headset the entire time. Seriously, the entire time. From the minute he marched in, in his graduation portrait taken right before he walked on stage, walking across stage, getting his diploma-- the whole fucking shebang!
Sir, how important are you in your own mind that you need to wear a wireless phone device during your own graduation? First of all, there is no reason besides driving a car, operating heavy machinery, performing surgery or being a double arm amputee that would warrant you to need a wireless phone headset. Your hands are free sir, and I would bet dollars to donuts that your pants have pockets. You have just graduated from AU with a Masters in something mathematical sounding, so I'm going to assume you can handle the following equation: cell phone + hand + slide it in your pocket/take it out when you need it = what normal people do. So unless you're wearing leggings under that robe and driving a Vespa across stage, there is absolutely no need to wear a hands-free phone set.
The only way that I can justify this man's actions is that he's anticipating the following situation to happen: He's hoping that his heroin addicted little brother whose been missing for two weeks straight will finally be picked up by the cops, after they found him face down in the snow, almost frozen to death, covered in his own piss. Now that he's hit rock bottom, his little brother knows that he's finally got to get his life together, so he uses his one call in jail to call his finance-loving big brother to bail him out and take him to rehab. However, our hero knows that it would be just his luck that his little brother would call him at the exact moment he's on stage when one hand is clutching his diploma, while the other is busy turning his mortarboard's tassel making it physically impossible to reach into his pants and grab his cell phone! Thus, his little brother will rot in jail trading sexual favors for cigarettes, all because his cry for help went unanswered.
...I actually stole part of that plot from the movie Kids and think it's more likely that this guy is just a douchebag whose super impressed with himself. You would think that a bright blue robe, gold cords and a ridiculous looking hat would be enough to make someone feel special, but not this guy. No, he won't feel vindicated until every man, woman and child in that stadium knows that not only do people call him, but his hands are frequently not free God damnit!
9.11.2008
Happy Drinking Game Friday!
This weekend my parents will be out of town and I feel an intense need to throw a party. But not just any party. A party where our lives will reach a turning point and change dramatically, as our story lines intermingle and weave a delicate quilt of hilarity.
The first time my parents left me home alone for a weekend, I was a junior in high school and they went to visit my sister at college for parent's weekend. My friends and I went to a party where we bought some pot, but once we got it back to my house we realized we didn't have a smoking device and spent the better part of the night googling "how to turn a Gatorade bottle into a bong." The second we went outside and someone took the first hit, sirens went off in all different directions and there was a helicopter above us with a search light. It turns out there was a domestic dispute down the road, but we spent the rest of the night locked in my room, scared shitless that we were about to get raided and gown down Scarface style.
I could make up for lost time and have a huge kegger this weekend, but where's the sense of adventure when buying alcohol is legal and we could all just go to a bar and not haul ass to the 'burbs? Sigh...I guess the closest I'm going to get this weekend to my Ultimate Party is playing the Ultimate Can't Hardly Wait Drinking Game!
Special thanks to Talia for helping me cook up these rules last night. Also special thanks to Talia for buying me drinks twice this week. Who needs a job when your best friend is your sugar daddy?
Take One Sip When:
- Preston's letter to Amanda is on-screen
- William drinks beer
- The stoners mention a physical attribute of Preston
- Seth Green says "get laid" or makes reference to having sex that night
- Seth Green says a pick-up line
- Melissa Joan Hart gets someone to sign her yearbook
- Woody (the reminiscing guy) starts a sentence with "Remember when..." or "Remember that time..."
- Olaff the exchange student speaks English
- The girl who's hosting the party makes a rule about the party (i.e. don't go in the fancy room, don't shut the bathroom door upstairs et al)
- Amanda asks someone if they know who Preston is
- Type is on the screen
Take Two Sips When:
- Amanda Beckett is in slow motion
- Someone gets hit on by their cousin
- The Clepto steals something
- The Lovebürger drummer counts off
- Someone gets hit in the face with a pot brownie
- Someone hooks up
- Preston has a flashback
- The jocks commit to breaking up with their girlfriends
Finish Your Drink When:
- Breckin Meyer asks "Did anyone order a Lovebürger?...Well done." (simply because it's my favorite line)
- William sings "Paradise City"
- The cops come
- Someone delays their train
Have a great weekend and remember to send your weekend Bro shots to the Bro Zone at 2birds1blog@gmail.com. See you Monday!
The first time my parents left me home alone for a weekend, I was a junior in high school and they went to visit my sister at college for parent's weekend. My friends and I went to a party where we bought some pot, but once we got it back to my house we realized we didn't have a smoking device and spent the better part of the night googling "how to turn a Gatorade bottle into a bong." The second we went outside and someone took the first hit, sirens went off in all different directions and there was a helicopter above us with a search light. It turns out there was a domestic dispute down the road, but we spent the rest of the night locked in my room, scared shitless that we were about to get raided and gown down Scarface style.
I could make up for lost time and have a huge kegger this weekend, but where's the sense of adventure when buying alcohol is legal and we could all just go to a bar and not haul ass to the 'burbs? Sigh...I guess the closest I'm going to get this weekend to my Ultimate Party is playing the Ultimate Can't Hardly Wait Drinking Game!
Special thanks to Talia for helping me cook up these rules last night. Also special thanks to Talia for buying me drinks twice this week. Who needs a job when your best friend is your sugar daddy?
Take One Sip When:
- Preston's letter to Amanda is on-screen
- William drinks beer
- The stoners mention a physical attribute of Preston
- Seth Green says "get laid" or makes reference to having sex that night
- Seth Green says a pick-up line
- Melissa Joan Hart gets someone to sign her yearbook
- Woody (the reminiscing guy) starts a sentence with "Remember when..." or "Remember that time..."
- Olaff the exchange student speaks English
- The girl who's hosting the party makes a rule about the party (i.e. don't go in the fancy room, don't shut the bathroom door upstairs et al)
- Amanda asks someone if they know who Preston is
- Type is on the screen
Take Two Sips When:
- Amanda Beckett is in slow motion
- Someone gets hit on by their cousin
- The Clepto steals something
- The Lovebürger drummer counts off
- Someone gets hit in the face with a pot brownie
- Someone hooks up
- Preston has a flashback
- The jocks commit to breaking up with their girlfriends
Finish Your Drink When:
- Breckin Meyer asks "Did anyone order a Lovebürger?...Well done." (simply because it's my favorite line)
- William sings "Paradise City"
- The cops come
- Someone delays their train
Have a great weekend and remember to send your weekend Bro shots to the Bro Zone at 2birds1blog@gmail.com. See you Monday!
9.10.2008
I am Comic Book Guy...fuck.
For the past month or so, I've just been livin' the dream. People keep asking me how it is living with my parents and I gotta tell you; it's not bad. How can you argue with free food, no rent, and no job? I even gutted my childhood room and re-created my old apartment in it, complete with mini fridge and wireless internet. Install a keg, give me a Bro to flirt with and I'd never leave.
The problem is, I'm starting to get too comfortable. I'd like to think I can pull off a lot of things, but being a blogger who lives in their parent's basement might be universally upsetting. I'm starting to remind myself of Chazz from Wedding Crashers more and more everyday:
Plus the other day I got cocky and pushed the limits of my parent's generosity. Instead of looking for a job or writing for my internship Monday, I spent a large portion of the late morning/early afternoon/late afternoon drinking Bloody Mary's with my friend Talia and watching reruns of The Hills and Disney Channel original movies. After a stern talkin'-to from my mom, I realized if this is the dream, it might be time to wake up.
So, I've come to terms with the fact that I need to finally get a job. My last job left me with mild Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and now I'm oddly specific about the parameters of the new one: no cubicles; no cover letters; no bosses; no asshole co-workers; no commutes; no dress code; no pervy office managers; no turnstiles you have to swipe an ID card to spin, yet they never spin, thereby banging a large metal bar into my pelvis twice a day reducing my chances of ever bearing children; no codes on bathroom doors; and no passive-aggressive inner-office emails from women old enough to remember when Garfield was president.
According to my dad, an HR guy, these demands are "unrealistic and slightly delusional." I took that statement as a challenge and went straight to Craigslist to start researching my new dream job. After a few days, I've managed to find eight jobs that perfectly fit my parameters. Let's assess their pros and cons:
#8:Actor/Actress as a Tour Bus Guide
+ " Seeking extremely outgoing, personable actor or actress as tour guide for bus tour..."
I'm outgoing and personable. I'm not an actress, but I have appeared in some mighty fine local theater in my day.+ "Singing TV theme songs is part of the job (you do not have to be a professional singer). Stand-up comedy experience a plus."
I was singing the Who's The Boss? theme song in the shower this morning and I'm not even saying that for comedic affect. Which is something I would do by the way, hence points for stand-up comedy experience a plus!
- "Do not email questions about the position--they will not be answered."
That's slightly off-putting. Is this a tour bus or a fight club?
- "Compensation: $75 per 3 hour shift."
If I'm going to be singing the theme song to Welcome Back Mr. Kotter down Mass Ave with tourists for three hours, you're going to have to do a lot better than $75.
#7: JEWISH EGG DONORS URGENTLY NEEDED $8,000+
+ I got eggs.
+ They're the eggs of God's chosen people.
+ Price is right.
- I don't think the world is ready for countless Meg-lets running around.
- I guess the whole invasive-surgery-to-harvest-my-eggs thing is kind of a deal-breaker.
#6: Show me your tats!
+ "Photographer looking for women with tattoos to help build his portfolio."
I have tattoos and I'm all for helping fellow artists build their portfolios.
- "There is no pay for this, but, I can take any other pics you'd like for no charge."
Yea...I'm actually looking for someone who can pay me in money, not artistic black and white photos of myself. That might be a form of currency in art school, but not in the real world.
#5: Are you the next Facebook./Myspace Star? (DC)
+ "Flexible hours and unlimited pay."
I like the sound of that!
- "Looking for local talented promoters who are Myspace and Facebook kings and queens..."
I guess that's where I run into some obstacles. I think my last MySpace update was in 2006. But if "Facebook Star" was a typo and they actually meant "Facebook Stalker," I think I just might be qualified!
#4: fusion expert (maryland)
+ "(maryland)"
+ "expert"
- "fusion"
#3: Sexy Escorts needed for a very busy agency
+ "Now hiring for a Very busy non-sexual Escort agency in the Washington,DC"
Hey, a non-sexual escort agency! I won't have to do anything sexual and I get copious amounts of money! I win twice!
- I've seen the classic 1996 Lifetime movie Co-ed Callgirl. One day you're a recent AU grad looking for a job, and the next you've just shot your pimp in the head while wearing a blue pleather catsuit. It's a slippery slope...
#2: Still looking(models for classy butt fetish site) $500-$1500 (PG County)
+ "We are a local production company in search of models and exotic dancers for a brand new butt fetish website."
They're local, so it meets my no hellish commute rule!
+ "This website is aimed to be a classy one not trashy one highlighting the black mans favorite part of a womans body."
I support class, and The Black Man.
- Being a white Irish girl, I have a pretty small butt. It's a sad day when you realize you're not even qualified to be on a classy butt fetish website.
#1: Kick me in the nuts (DC)
+ "Seeking a lady that wants to kick a gentlemen in the balls tonight."
I believe my ex-roommate Blair can attest that I can deliver both a powerful and accurate kick to the groin.
+ "No nudity, very discreet."
I appreciate both.
+ "You host."
I love hosting get-togethers! I want my own apartment so I can start hosting dinner parties again.
Yep, eight fantastic choices. In case you weren't keeping score, professional nut-kicker won, with fusion expert coming in at second and Jewish egg donor in third. That being said, I hope society can withhold their judgments as I go back to bed and continue to live the dream.
The problem is, I'm starting to get too comfortable. I'd like to think I can pull off a lot of things, but being a blogger who lives in their parent's basement might be universally upsetting. I'm starting to remind myself of Chazz from Wedding Crashers more and more everyday:
Plus the other day I got cocky and pushed the limits of my parent's generosity. Instead of looking for a job or writing for my internship Monday, I spent a large portion of the late morning/early afternoon/late afternoon drinking Bloody Mary's with my friend Talia and watching reruns of The Hills and Disney Channel original movies. After a stern talkin'-to from my mom, I realized if this is the dream, it might be time to wake up.
So, I've come to terms with the fact that I need to finally get a job. My last job left me with mild Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and now I'm oddly specific about the parameters of the new one: no cubicles; no cover letters; no bosses; no asshole co-workers; no commutes; no dress code; no pervy office managers; no turnstiles you have to swipe an ID card to spin, yet they never spin, thereby banging a large metal bar into my pelvis twice a day reducing my chances of ever bearing children; no codes on bathroom doors; and no passive-aggressive inner-office emails from women old enough to remember when Garfield was president.
According to my dad, an HR guy, these demands are "unrealistic and slightly delusional." I took that statement as a challenge and went straight to Craigslist to start researching my new dream job. After a few days, I've managed to find eight jobs that perfectly fit my parameters. Let's assess their pros and cons:
#8:Actor/Actress as a Tour Bus Guide
+ " Seeking extremely outgoing, personable actor or actress as tour guide for bus tour..."
I'm outgoing and personable. I'm not an actress, but I have appeared in some mighty fine local theater in my day.+ "Singing TV theme songs is part of the job (you do not have to be a professional singer). Stand-up comedy experience a plus."
I was singing the Who's The Boss? theme song in the shower this morning and I'm not even saying that for comedic affect. Which is something I would do by the way, hence points for stand-up comedy experience a plus!
- "Do not email questions about the position--they will not be answered."
That's slightly off-putting. Is this a tour bus or a fight club?
- "Compensation: $75 per 3 hour shift."
If I'm going to be singing the theme song to Welcome Back Mr. Kotter down Mass Ave with tourists for three hours, you're going to have to do a lot better than $75.
#7: JEWISH EGG DONORS URGENTLY NEEDED $8,000+
+ I got eggs.
+ They're the eggs of God's chosen people.
+ Price is right.
- I don't think the world is ready for countless Meg-lets running around.
- I guess the whole invasive-surgery-to-harvest-my-eggs thing is kind of a deal-breaker.
#6: Show me your tats!
+ "Photographer looking for women with tattoos to help build his portfolio."
I have tattoos and I'm all for helping fellow artists build their portfolios.
- "There is no pay for this, but, I can take any other pics you'd like for no charge."
Yea...I'm actually looking for someone who can pay me in money, not artistic black and white photos of myself. That might be a form of currency in art school, but not in the real world.
#5: Are you the next Facebook./Myspace Star? (DC)
+ "Flexible hours and unlimited pay."
I like the sound of that!
- "Looking for local talented promoters who are Myspace and Facebook kings and queens..."
I guess that's where I run into some obstacles. I think my last MySpace update was in 2006. But if "Facebook Star" was a typo and they actually meant "Facebook Stalker," I think I just might be qualified!
#4: fusion expert (maryland)
+ "(maryland)"
+ "expert"
- "fusion"
#3: Sexy Escorts needed for a very busy agency
+ "Now hiring for a Very busy non-sexual Escort agency in the Washington,DC"
Hey, a non-sexual escort agency! I won't have to do anything sexual and I get copious amounts of money! I win twice!
- I've seen the classic 1996 Lifetime movie Co-ed Callgirl. One day you're a recent AU grad looking for a job, and the next you've just shot your pimp in the head while wearing a blue pleather catsuit. It's a slippery slope...
#2: Still looking(models for classy butt fetish site) $500-$1500 (PG County)
+ "We are a local production company in search of models and exotic dancers for a brand new butt fetish website."
They're local, so it meets my no hellish commute rule!
+ "This website is aimed to be a classy one not trashy one highlighting the black mans favorite part of a womans body."
I support class, and The Black Man.
- Being a white Irish girl, I have a pretty small butt. It's a sad day when you realize you're not even qualified to be on a classy butt fetish website.
#1: Kick me in the nuts (DC)
+ "Seeking a lady that wants to kick a gentlemen in the balls tonight."
I believe my ex-roommate Blair can attest that I can deliver both a powerful and accurate kick to the groin.
+ "No nudity, very discreet."
I appreciate both.
+ "You host."
I love hosting get-togethers! I want my own apartment so I can start hosting dinner parties again.
Yep, eight fantastic choices. In case you weren't keeping score, professional nut-kicker won, with fusion expert coming in at second and Jewish egg donor in third. That being said, I hope society can withhold their judgments as I go back to bed and continue to live the dream.
DOOMSDAY CONFESSIONS!
There’s a reason why I don’t watch the news and only read the Style section of the Post—I freak the fuck out. I’m a little…how do I say this?...“Crazy” is such a strong word…I’m a little prone to panic and obsess over things I can’t comprehend or control.
Knowing this now, you can imagine how ticked-off I was when I found out that we’re all going to die today when scientists in Geneva turn on a machine that will collide two atoms at the speed of light in an effort to re-create The Big Bang Theory and create matter, which might end the world. Why am I just finding this out now?! If someone is planning on accidentally killing me, I want to be the first to fucking know about it! What really pisses me off is that I heard about this in passing on a morning radio show during the gossip roundup. THE GOSSIP ROUNDUP. Since when is the imminent destruction of earth on par with Jennifer Aniston and Brad Pitt having dinner for the first time since 2005?!
I refuse to google this situation to give you more information, so here’s an excerpt from a gchat conversation with my friend Alex where he dumbs it down for me in the most frightening way ever:
me: ALEX
Alex: MEG
me: did you hear this thing about people in Geneva colliding atoms at the speed of light trying to re-create the big bang theory??
IT'S SCARING THE FUCK OUT OF ME
Alex: yup
the world is going to end tomorrow
so live it up now
me: don't you fucking scare me like that sir. i am FREAKING OUT in the worst way
wtf
wtf
EXPLAIN IT SO IT'S NOT SCARY!
Alex: so they're going to be doing really complicated science experiments underground in switzerland
like a baking soda volcano times a million
me: i don't want to die!
Alex: you're not going to die
maybe
me: why would it kill us? maybe it'll just make a toaster oven appear out of nowhere
Alex: so there is a chance that doing these really complicated science experiments may accidentally create a black hole that will consume the earth
some people think it could really happen
me: I AM HAVING A PANIC ATTACK
WTF?
SOMEONE STOP THEM
Alex: the scientists who made the machine say that while "technically" that is a possibility, the chance of it happening is so remote that it's not worth worrying about
me: WTF? catching a cold from a public drinking fountain is something that’s not worth worrying about. CREATING A BLACK HOLE THAT WILL CONSUME OUR EARTH IS SOMETHING TO FUCKING WORRY ABOUT
Alex: many people share your fear
several lawsuits were filed to keep them from turning it on
but they didn't really pan out so it goes live tomorrow
brb, i'm going to get a sandwich
Mmk. So we’re all going to die relatively soon and Alex likes sandwiches. If I’m dying within the next week, there are some things I want to get off my chest, Goonies style:
- I cheated on every chemistry test I ever took in high school and I ended up getting all A’s. I didn’t deserve them. I would skip class the day before a test (so I would miss the review session,) and therefore get an extension the day of the test. I would then steal a copy of the test as they were being passed around the class, take it home, look up all of the answers and copy those answers the next day when I took the make up test. Sorry about that Ms. Groner, I’m just really bad at chemistry and you're really oblivious.
- I told my boss I was quitting my job and moving back to DC because of an illness in the family. The truth is I just really hated that job but didn’t have the heart to tell her. This seemed like the most logical solution. I apologize for having the heart to kill off a family member but not tell my boss I was unhappy.
- I told my therapist that I had to stop going to group therapy because I worked too late on Wednesday nights. The truth is I was sick of missing America’s Next Top Model.
- The night of my last day at work in NY, I came back to the office drunk and stole my work enemy’s nameplate as a souvenir. I also rearranged everything in her cubicle to confuse her. This is a point of pride and I’m actually not sorry. I guess I’m sorry for not being sorry.
- Anna and Jill: I had sex in the bathroom at your Cinco de Mayo party. In retrospect, that was probably inappropriate and I apologize. I can’t remember if I told you about this and apologized already, but I want to have all of my bases covered if we’re about to die. I haven’t used that bathroom since because it makes me feel guilty.
- I discreetly puked in the back of a cab this past June when I was black out drunk and didn’t tell the cab driver. I have never felt so guilty about something in my entire life.
- I held up the production of the website I currently write for because I wanted to wait two weeks to upgrade my Photoshop so I could re-touch my company headshot. I’m sorry. That was just a dick move on my part.
- I accidentally embezzled $200 from the National Honors Society my senior year of high school and went shopping.
- In high school newspaper class, I made up the results to a survey once. I didn't do a very good job though because my figures added up to 110%. This kid Austin called me out in front of the entire class and my classmate Bahar stood up for me; a heated argument ensued as she defended my honor. Austin was totally right, but I never stepped up and confessed. I felt like a total jackass the entire time.
- Before I moved back to DC, I broke up with the guy I was seeing in New York over email.
- In fourth grade I didn’t do a geography project because I thought it was stupid. My teacher later asked me if I turned it in and I said yes. He gave me a 100% and assumed he had lost it because I was such a good student. I’m sorry Mr. Yates, the truth is I was a sneaky little fucker even back then.
- When my roommate and I got alcohol citations at AU, our community service supervisor accidentally gave me eight of my roommate's completed hours. I didn’t correct him because I kept getting sexually harassed by the crew I was doing community service with at the National Zoo. I still feel dirty when I see a panda.
- I have given countless people tap water and told them it was from a Brita. I'm not proud.
Hmm…now that that’s done with, I sort of hope we do die, because I feel like a real asshole right about now...
Knowing this now, you can imagine how ticked-off I was when I found out that we’re all going to die today when scientists in Geneva turn on a machine that will collide two atoms at the speed of light in an effort to re-create The Big Bang Theory and create matter, which might end the world. Why am I just finding this out now?! If someone is planning on accidentally killing me, I want to be the first to fucking know about it! What really pisses me off is that I heard about this in passing on a morning radio show during the gossip roundup. THE GOSSIP ROUNDUP. Since when is the imminent destruction of earth on par with Jennifer Aniston and Brad Pitt having dinner for the first time since 2005?!
I refuse to google this situation to give you more information, so here’s an excerpt from a gchat conversation with my friend Alex where he dumbs it down for me in the most frightening way ever:
me: ALEX
Alex: MEG
me: did you hear this thing about people in Geneva colliding atoms at the speed of light trying to re-create the big bang theory??
IT'S SCARING THE FUCK OUT OF ME
Alex: yup
the world is going to end tomorrow
so live it up now
me: don't you fucking scare me like that sir. i am FREAKING OUT in the worst way
wtf
wtf
EXPLAIN IT SO IT'S NOT SCARY!
Alex: so they're going to be doing really complicated science experiments underground in switzerland
like a baking soda volcano times a million
me: i don't want to die!
Alex: you're not going to die
maybe
me: why would it kill us? maybe it'll just make a toaster oven appear out of nowhere
Alex: so there is a chance that doing these really complicated science experiments may accidentally create a black hole that will consume the earth
some people think it could really happen
me: I AM HAVING A PANIC ATTACK
WTF?
SOMEONE STOP THEM
Alex: the scientists who made the machine say that while "technically" that is a possibility, the chance of it happening is so remote that it's not worth worrying about
me: WTF? catching a cold from a public drinking fountain is something that’s not worth worrying about. CREATING A BLACK HOLE THAT WILL CONSUME OUR EARTH IS SOMETHING TO FUCKING WORRY ABOUT
Alex: many people share your fear
several lawsuits were filed to keep them from turning it on
but they didn't really pan out so it goes live tomorrow
brb, i'm going to get a sandwich
Mmk. So we’re all going to die relatively soon and Alex likes sandwiches. If I’m dying within the next week, there are some things I want to get off my chest, Goonies style:
- I cheated on every chemistry test I ever took in high school and I ended up getting all A’s. I didn’t deserve them. I would skip class the day before a test (so I would miss the review session,) and therefore get an extension the day of the test. I would then steal a copy of the test as they were being passed around the class, take it home, look up all of the answers and copy those answers the next day when I took the make up test. Sorry about that Ms. Groner, I’m just really bad at chemistry and you're really oblivious.
- I told my boss I was quitting my job and moving back to DC because of an illness in the family. The truth is I just really hated that job but didn’t have the heart to tell her. This seemed like the most logical solution. I apologize for having the heart to kill off a family member but not tell my boss I was unhappy.
- I told my therapist that I had to stop going to group therapy because I worked too late on Wednesday nights. The truth is I was sick of missing America’s Next Top Model.
- The night of my last day at work in NY, I came back to the office drunk and stole my work enemy’s nameplate as a souvenir. I also rearranged everything in her cubicle to confuse her. This is a point of pride and I’m actually not sorry. I guess I’m sorry for not being sorry.
- Anna and Jill: I had sex in the bathroom at your Cinco de Mayo party. In retrospect, that was probably inappropriate and I apologize. I can’t remember if I told you about this and apologized already, but I want to have all of my bases covered if we’re about to die. I haven’t used that bathroom since because it makes me feel guilty.
- I discreetly puked in the back of a cab this past June when I was black out drunk and didn’t tell the cab driver. I have never felt so guilty about something in my entire life.
- I held up the production of the website I currently write for because I wanted to wait two weeks to upgrade my Photoshop so I could re-touch my company headshot. I’m sorry. That was just a dick move on my part.
- I accidentally embezzled $200 from the National Honors Society my senior year of high school and went shopping.
- In high school newspaper class, I made up the results to a survey once. I didn't do a very good job though because my figures added up to 110%. This kid Austin called me out in front of the entire class and my classmate Bahar stood up for me; a heated argument ensued as she defended my honor. Austin was totally right, but I never stepped up and confessed. I felt like a total jackass the entire time.
- Before I moved back to DC, I broke up with the guy I was seeing in New York over email.
- In fourth grade I didn’t do a geography project because I thought it was stupid. My teacher later asked me if I turned it in and I said yes. He gave me a 100% and assumed he had lost it because I was such a good student. I’m sorry Mr. Yates, the truth is I was a sneaky little fucker even back then.
- When my roommate and I got alcohol citations at AU, our community service supervisor accidentally gave me eight of my roommate's completed hours. I didn’t correct him because I kept getting sexually harassed by the crew I was doing community service with at the National Zoo. I still feel dirty when I see a panda.
- I have given countless people tap water and told them it was from a Brita. I'm not proud.
Hmm…now that that’s done with, I sort of hope we do die, because I feel like a real asshole right about now...
9.09.2008
New Feature!
So what I've learned from my Bros and White Caps entry is that people really like Bros. Bros are like that person in your group of friends you're constantly making fun of, but deep down you really love. (In retrospect, that's really not an analogy, that's more of a literal definition of what a Bro is.)
Let us continue the celebration of, and education about Bros with a new blog feature called Bro Zone.
I've been getting a lot of emails and texts from readers letting me know they were at ____ bar last night and dude, it was a total Bro Zone! Keep up the good work readers. I want to keep studying the sociology of The Bro, and being in their natural habitat is the best way to do this. If you're out at a bar in the near future and suddenly realize the past three songs on the stereo have all been by Dave Mathews and the conversation around you primarily centers around Jenna Jameson's ass, you've probably found yourself in a Bro Zone. Remain calm, take a picture and email it to- 2birds1blog@gmail.com. Check out this prime group of Bros sent in by Talia at Lucky Bar:
I think the best part about this picture is that these Bros were instructed to reenact "The Bro Shot" from my 20 Male Poses of Facebook entry, but their good-time party spirit literally could not be contained and it morphed into the "Too Much Party for One Picture" shot. God damnit I respect you Bros.
Also, the Bro in the middle looks like a 90's sitcom character but I can't put my finger on who...and I'm oddly attracted to him. Damnit! I promised myself I would never fall for a Bro again!
Let us continue the celebration of, and education about Bros with a new blog feature called Bro Zone.
I've been getting a lot of emails and texts from readers letting me know they were at ____ bar last night and dude, it was a total Bro Zone! Keep up the good work readers. I want to keep studying the sociology of The Bro, and being in their natural habitat is the best way to do this. If you're out at a bar in the near future and suddenly realize the past three songs on the stereo have all been by Dave Mathews and the conversation around you primarily centers around Jenna Jameson's ass, you've probably found yourself in a Bro Zone. Remain calm, take a picture and email it to- 2birds1blog@gmail.com. Check out this prime group of Bros sent in by Talia at Lucky Bar:
I think the best part about this picture is that these Bros were instructed to reenact "The Bro Shot" from my 20 Male Poses of Facebook entry, but their good-time party spirit literally could not be contained and it morphed into the "Too Much Party for One Picture" shot. God damnit I respect you Bros.
Also, the Bro in the middle looks like a 90's sitcom character but I can't put my finger on who...and I'm oddly attracted to him. Damnit! I promised myself I would never fall for a Bro again!
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