Category: Uncategorized


Conversations with me never seem to go the way people intend.

Him: Glad you care *pecks your cheek*
Me: OK as long as that isn’t a la Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds. There is a lot of pecking in that movie, it kills you. Caw caw! Cheek meat! CAW!
End of conversation.
Her: My body is all out of fucking whack.
Me: Then go get more Fucking Whack, duh.
Her: You dick.
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A friend of mine posted a computer drawn picture of herself standing in a doctor’s office. Her leg in the cartoon was unintentionally yet hilariously deformed looking, and because I am a jerk I could not restrain myself.

Might I suggest an orthopedic surgeon instead.

Me: It is probably going to be too late for a doctor to save that leg.

Friend:  LMFAO I am not the best bitstripper.

Someone else: What the fuck is a bitstripper?

Friend:  A person that makes bit strips, it’s the app I used to make these things.

Me:  I am going to assume a bitstripper is a person who dances in the nude wearing a bridle while pretending to be a horse.

Seems like the logical definition to me.

People who know me and have met my mother know that it is nearly impossible to take her anywhere without maximum embarrassment. She has such a talent for the awkward that she even succeeds in humiliation when the other people involved do not speak the same language. Today I will regale you three excellent reasons why you should not take my mom anywhere.  This will include mom managing to embarrass everyone at the table even though no one else spoke English; followed by how even Stephen Tyler has been caught in her humiliation storm, then lastly how a hot beverage turned into a public nightmare.

I Speak My Own Language

Some time around the year 2001, my family decided it would be fun to travel around Canada on vacation. My sister now fluently speaks French but at the time none of us were close to fluent speakers. My sister and I had taken enough French in school that we could blunder our way through it if people talked to us like we were idiots. My French still has not improved much beyond that point. As far as translations were concerned for the trip, that was all we had to work with. Throughout most of the trip it was pretty easy to find people who spoke English and so it was not a big issue. My mom is one of those people who seems to think she can speak any language as long as she uses weird accents, kind of like Peggy Hill and her Spanish on the show King of the Hill. One afternoon we went to lunch in Quebec where all of the staff seemed to speak strictly French.  This was still not a huge issue because reading the menu was pretty straight forward. Unfortunately for the server, the witnesses, and all of us, mom had decided to bust out her French on our unsuspecting waitress. She looked at the menu then back at the waitress and in the most stereotypical American accent ever she said “excuse me, grassy-ASS señor” right to her. The look on the server’s face clearly stated that she had no idea what just happened. When we tried to stop mom from trying anything else she thought might be French she said it again; this time with a posh frown and copious amount of unnecessary head movements. At this point the server went and got someone else and repeated my mother’s excellent français to try and interpret it. By the end of lunch we had already decided that as long as mom was in tow, foreign locations were out.

Aero-what?

In the same year that mom had bombed her attempt at French she also successfully pissed off Stephen Tyler twice in the span of two minutes. We were in Boston together sitting outside while mom finished a smoke. While we were sitting there a large group of people including several police walked by us. As soon as the group was next to us mom shouts “look Lorelei Mick Jagger!” He stopped walking and turned around. It was not Mick Jagger it was Stephen Tyler and he did not look amused. I corrected her and told her he was from Aerosmith and hoped he was not as offended as he looked. It wouldn’t be mom though if she didn’t instantly make it worse. The next sentence out of her mouth was “whatever they both have huge lips.” She did not even wait for him to turn away from her before she said it, if looks could kill she would have burst into flames. Thankfully he didn’t say anything and just walked away. One of these days I suspect she is going to get a bill in the mail from his therapist.

Coffee or Tea?

At least a decade ago I was in a Walmart with my sister and mom looking for various items. When we walked down the beverage isle, my sister grabbed a box of teabags, put them on her face, and said “look Lorelei teabagging.” We both chuckled but then mom turns around and says in her outside voice “what is this teabagging about?”  Neither of us wanted to explain the meaning to her so we just kept ignoring the question. Mom was hellbent on finding out what it was all about so she started asking random customers in the store. She had probably said to half a dozen people “excuse me what is teabagging?” The more people she asked the funnier it got because no one wanted to answer her. To our relief she had finally stopped  asking  customers, we thought she had given up entirely when in reality she was just looking for someone she deemed more knowledgeable. As we were checking out she asked the cashier, who appeared to be a 15 year old teenage girl, if she knew what teabagging was. The cashier immediately turned a bright crimson hue and walked away. We told mom if she really wanted to know then she should just ask dad.

My mother has a special talent for embarrassment way beyond the normal spectrum of public humiliation that most people are used to.  There are so many examples that I could not hope to cover them all in one post. Today I think I will cover my mom’s failed espionage, the smell of the phone, and how much she loves Beefaroni. The first two are fairly run of the mill embarrassing, the last is probably worthy of a bumper sticker.

Mom’s Failed Espionage

Years ago I had invited my best friend over to hang out. I had not seen her since high school many years prior and we thought catching up would be a good idea. We decided to sit in the living room and just talk about life in general. At least that is what I think we were talking about, I honestly don’t remember. For good reason I cannot recall a single thing about that afternoon other than my mother trying to eavesdrop. Mom always loves to listen in on conversations that have nothing to do with her and her skills of being inconspicuous fail her greatly. True to her nature of needing to know everything, she had planted herself in one of the chairs directly across from my friend. She was poorly pretending to read a book. It was such a bad act that the book was about two inches below eye level and she was very clearly staring right over the top of it at my friend. Even when we looked at her she just stared right back over the top of the book and didn’t move. I guess she assumed that if she did not move we could not see her. She had probably watched Jurassic Park one too many times and figured if it works on a T-Rex it would work on people. This was probably eight years ago and I remember it like it was yesterday, so does my friend. She must not have known that to read a book you need to actually look at it once in a while.

Smell My Phone

Years ago when we had just a landline and one phone, I was at the mercy of the other people who used the phone and the weird things they did while on it.  Often times when people were having a personal conversation, having a five foot cord, they would shut themselves in the bathroom to try and deter others from listening. The problem is that when you can only go as far as the bathroom and you have a two hour conversation, the list of things to do gets pretty short. Usually people would look at themselves in the mirror, make stupid faces, pace, or brush their hair. Options were sparse. Unfortunately for me someone during a previous conversation must have been playing with perfume or some other flowery substance. When I had picked up the phone to talk to a friend I noticed the phone smelled quite strongly of something  you might find in a florist’s shop in hell. I was irritated with the stench and asked the most likely candidate, my mom, if she knew anything about it. When I told her that the phone smelled she walked up, put her nostrils right on the receiver, and sniffed as hard as she could into my friend’s ear. Apparently it made quite a sound, to this day we  ask each other to smell our phones.

Beefaroni

A few years ago my family decided to go see a ballet of The Nutcracker. It turned out to be a pretty bad production starring many children with pipe cleaner wings and the like.  The majority of the people attending were way too posh to even smile. During the ballet my sister and I got bored and started making fun of these people. My sister started frowning and saying “The weight of my fortune is so great it pulls down the corners of my mouth.” We continued this for most of the night but whenever an act finished we would clap and yell random words in Italian. We started with things like bravo and bravissimo but seeing as how neither of us spoke Italian we quickly ran out of words. That was when we started shouting anything that could be even slightly thought of as Italian like fettuccine, prego, and alfredo. When it was my turn to shout a word I could not even think of another pasta to shout so I yelled “Beefaroni!” Of course mom had not been paying attention to us and had no idea as to why we were yelling about pasta and Chef Boyardee products. She only heard the last word “Beefaroni.” With the best and worst timing in the world she looked over at us and said “hey I LIKE Beefaroni!’ This happened at the exact moment everyone had gone silent and every single person in that audience had heard her. Many people turned to look at her with their posh frowns. We have not gone to a ballet since.

Here are three tales of projectile foods that will forever be burned into my memory.

First up is a story about three friends of mine who I had been talking to on Skype. They all live together and share an office. Two of the three people decided to run upstairs and grab a snack. The third person stuck around eating crackers at his desk and crunching them in my ear. While they were gone the remaining individual said that he was bored and wanted an idea for something entertaining to do. As a joke I suggested he stuffed as many crackers as he could fit into his mouth and wait for the others to return. I told him to wait until they sat down then to run up behind them and scream HIPPOPOTAMUS with the crackers in his mouth. Not two minutes later they returned and sat down. All of the sudden I hear HIPPOPOTAMUS through one of their mics followed by screams of crackery horror. Needless to say I got blamed for it, it was worth it.

The second tale of  food fun comes from my best friend. I was living there at the time and we decided to pick up Burger King for dinner. While we were eating her boyfriend turned on World of Warcraft and was flipping through some character models. At the time we had been screwing around with horde characters. My best friend’s significant other decided to play with the alliance character maker out of boredom. When she looked up and saw the alliance character she stuffed a Whopper into her mouth, tore it in half and screamed “YOU DISGUST ME” through the sandwich which sprayed lettuce at maximum velocity. I spit my drink down my shirt.

This last tale of food faux pas was actually caused by the “you disgust me” burger event. I was sitting with my brother in a McDonalds having lunch. He happened to bring up the fact that a friend of his had said something so funny he had spit his soda straight up into the air causing it to rain back down on himself. This reminded me of the Whopper incident that had caused me to spray myself with my drink. Unfortunately for him he had been drinking coffee while I regaled him with the flying lettuce story. He had just taken a big gulp of coffee when I screamed YOU DISGUST ME! He instantly inhaled the mouthful of coffee causing him to cough violently. He had coughed so hard he had suddenly thrown up right next to our table. Before I could even put together what had just happened he had looked around, grabbed his chicken nuggets and run out the door. It took me a couple seconds to realize that everyone had seen the show. I grabbed my drink and quickly followed suit.

Today I am re dyeing my hair. You too can have this look in just two hundred easy steps!

What you will need:

Profanity

Bleach

Black Dye

Pink Dye

Petroleum Jelly

3 Pairs of Latex Gloves

3 Towels

A Shower

Plastic Wrap

Face Wipes

2 Mirrors

2 Rubber Bands

A Comb

Copious Amounts of Time

No Witnesses

Unfortunately for me, whoever bought the gloves last happened to buy them two sizes too small and bright purple. My fingers are way too long for these gloves. I feel like John Wayne Gacy crossed with a pediatrician. These would not be gloves I would ever wear again.

These are just bad.

These are just bad.

This whole hair clusterfuck took me four hours. That is a long time to wear gloves that are way too small, especially if someone happens to see it. Which of course they did. Damn these gloves.

Even though the result was what I had hoped for, It was not without cost. By the end I was soaked. There was a pink dot on my face that wouldn’t come off. Two of my towels were now new colors as was my shower curtain, one of my shirts, my arm, two sponges, a washcloth, and half a roll of paper towel.  It took ten minutes just to get the petroleum jelly out of my ears which is apparently an activity that makes people watch you like you were eating boiled dog.

Doing what I do best. Bothering people in the middle of the night.
Her: Ha ha… Are you my mummy? Cue gas mask orphans.
Me: When David Tennant said that randomly in season 4 I died laughing. 2:16 am
Her: Did you watch the episode where David Tennant puts the mask on an asks it? 2:16 am
Her: Oh whoa, lady. You are soooome kinda freaky.
Me: You know it. ;o)
Her: What about that the one with Alonso? 2:18 am
ME: Allons-y Alonso! 2:18 am
Her: STOP THAT!
Her: Seriously, it is 2 am you psychic bitch.
Me: Snicker.  It is what I do after all.
Her: I’m in bed. Straight back against the wall with my blanket over my head. It’s the only way I can seem to breathe. Lumos Maxima! Turns on phone flashlight
Me: I have one of those! I blind myself with it regularly. Usually like where the fuck are my glassAAAAGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
Her: Ha ha, yep. I am constantly like, where are my…. CORNEAS!
At least some people get me. Ha ha.
Me: Edward Cullen is one ugly dude.
Him: Doesn’t seem to be the general consensus, unfortunately.
Me: Yeah if you are 12.  Though if you want to captivate the young-ins wear a rugby shirt and ask them if they see any clues.
Him: Well they have been my target audience…
Me: Then I feel sorry that you got stuck with me that day.
Him: Will you dress as a 12 year old for me?
Me: I wouldn’t fit in a twelve year old get up. If I did maybe I would consider it.
Him: Fit into what; the peeled off flesh suit of a 12 year old girl?
Me: Yes, I went to Buffalo Bill’s Emporium and they don’t come in my size.
Bam, end of conversation. This is why I don’t talk to people. This is why I can’t have nice things.
snowed in again.

Snowed in again.

I have a high tendency to get up and leave where I live and sporadically move. It is probably due to the fact that I never really have a lot in one area aside from a person or two to keep me where i’m at. If whatever reason or person it was that initially swayed me to live somewhere fails me I just grab my shit and go. I have moved 900 miles with half a days notice. I have moved out of state 6 times in the last 8 years with just whatever fit in my car. Half of the time I have no exact destination other than a direction or an area near a group of people I know. I usually stay in a location for maybe three or four years before I get the itch to migrate someplace else. I would love to find a permanent state or area to live in but to do that I would probably need to win the lottery. I moved here to New Hampshire from Pennsylvania in 2010. I was born here so it was a good spot to stop and think about things for a while. Now it is 2013 and the only thing keeping me here is my best friend, the fact I can’t afford to move yet, and the lack of a specific destination. I would love a partner in crime who understood the bizarre way my mind works to come with me or to be someplace I want to be. Unfortunately it is a rare breed indeed, at least around here it is. I do not fit in very well here. I have offers of dates and such from people around here once in a while but I  can safely say they wouldn’t understand me. It might be nice to meet someone but not here because I am secretly afraid of getting anchored to this snowdrift.

I have all kinds of clusters of friends in all kinds of places all over the world. I have a hard time deciding where to go due the wide range of places my family and friends live. I do not have one solid group of family or friends in any one location so choosing one is pretty much a lose lose situation. The other issue is that the places with the most concentrated groups of people I care about, are all places I really don’t want to be. They all live in frozen hell holes, I am living in one now and I hate it. Anywhere that seems climate pleasing to me is of course as far away from everyone as I could get. So do I chose a few friends and  family in some icy hell or do I go someplace warmer and go totally alone. I know that I don’t want to be here but I also know that if I left I would have to leave the people that mean the most behind.

New Hampshire, Live Freeze and Die.

New Hampshire, Live
Freeze and Die.