Pete Yorn (Warren Zevon), you always say just what I’m thinking.
Monthly Archives: October 2008
Undecided Voters Don’t Deserve the Right to Vote
My best friend Tracey and I have been talking a lot about undecided voters lately and how we just. don’t. get. them. You either care for
1) the greater human need over your own selfish want
2) the greater human right over your own idiotic hatred
or you don’t. We don’t see how someone could possibly not have a definite opinion on, say, trade policy or women’s rights or taxation. I understand that you can be an independent or a libertarian or a member of the . . . Peace and Freedom Party(?) and not have a viable candidate who really suits your Presidential candidatey needs, but after A YEAR AND A HALF OF CAMPAIGNING, make up your damned mind already!
Tracey sent me a David Sedaris article in The New Yorker today that we think says it best:
To put [undecided voters] in perspective, I think of being on an airplane. The flight attendant comes down the aisle with her food cart and, eventually, parks it beside my seat. “Can I interest you in the chicken?” she asks. “Or would you prefer the platter of shit with bits of broken glass in it?”
To be undecided in this election is to pause for a moment and then ask how the chicken is cooked.
If I knew for sure it wasn’t illegal to post other people’s phone numbers in my blog, I would do it SO FAST right now.
Filed under good times at everyone else's expense, jobby jobby job job, my uber-confrontational personality
Tagged as good times at everyone else's expense, jobby jobby job job, my uber-confrontational personality
Tagged as good times at everyone else's expense, jobby jobby job job, my uber-confrontational personality
In my incredibly important role as an executive assistant, I have to talk to a lot of really retarded people (none of which is my boss, I’d like to emphasize, in case he ever reads this). But none of these is more retarded than the IT telemarketer. This is the guy who never EVER bothers to look up the name of the IT manager at your location but just calls and casually tells you–obviously on speakerphone, because his legs are kicked up on his desk and he’s busy practicing his old frat’s secret handshake–to connect him to whoever happens to be the head of your IT department. Having a superiority complex and an intense desire to lose my job over something stupid like being snotty to salesmen, I make absolutely no effort to mask the loathing in my voice from these cretins.
HOWEVER, I just received a call from one at an NYC company called Axispoint and was uncharacteristically nice to him, simply because I was coming off a delicious chicken meatball lunch and had really enjoyed IMing Dr. Boyfriend about being excited to “warm up my ‘balls” all morning long. But as soon as I uncharacteristically nicely told this guy that we don’t even keep an IT department at our location–particularly ironic since we’re a software company–he just went and HUNG UP ON ME.
Can you believe it? I am the one who hangs up on people. I am underpaid one who has to talk to retards all day. I have a singsong voice that demands telemarketers to stay on the line longer. But not this guy.
I checked my call log, and of course I have his number from my caller ID. So what should I do with it?
All of the Memory Cards in the World Wouldn’t Be Enough to Hold All the Unnecessary Quotation Marks in New York City
Filed under bigtime celebrity, readin' and writin', why i'm better than everyone else
Tagged as bigtime celebrity, readin' and writin', why i'm better than everyone else
Tagged as bigtime celebrity, readin' and writin', why i'm better than everyone else
Hey, look! Some of my amazing photography prowess is currently being displayed on the front page of The “Blog” of “Unnecessary” Quotation Marks!
Dr. Boyfriend and I were walking down Broadway on a hunt for rainbow-flavored shaved ice one weekend afternoon this summer when we spotted a store window full of the chintziest figurines imaginable. I thought the sign was pretty lame, actually, but I really wanted to give fame to the Last Supper sculpture below it:
Sadly, blog owner Bethany evidently didn’t think Jesus made the grade and just posted the sign itself.
If He Couldn’t Pick His Nose, Would You Still Love Him?
Tell me the truth: would you date someone who was missing a finger?
Does it make a difference if, say, only a section of the finger was missing?
I spent most of my train ride this morning considering it, and I’m still not sure. On one hand, I’d really like to introduce people to my boyfriend by saying, “Barbara, this is my boyfriend Stan, and we can never get married because he’s missing his ring finger.” And whereas I call Kamran “Dr. Boyfriend” here, I could call this finger-lacking guy “Four-and-a-Half-Fingered Boyfriend”. It has a ring to it, right?
But on the other hand, I feel like we’d have to set way too many ground rules for a healthy relationship to ever develop. I’d constantly be saying things like, “Okay, you can touch me with your nub, but if it so much as comes within an inch of my mouth, I swear I’ll cut the other nine off.”
Fake-Birthday Party Photo Extravaganza!
Filed under all of my friends are prettier than i am, holidays don't suck for me, par-tay
Tagged as all of my friends are prettier than i am, holidays don't suck for me, par-tay
Tagged as all of my friends are prettier than i am, holidays don't suck for me, par-tay
Guess whose fake-birthday party was Friday night.
NOT YOURS!
Guess who was drunk?
EVERYONE! But especially:
LaChantee!
Jack!
Kamran, who describes this picture as “good sweaty”!
Emily, Beth, and Jessica!
Bridgette, who doesn’t actually drink much and therefore still manages to look pretty!
Owen-who-is-Australian-and-therefore-always-looks-like-this!
Jeff, who looks way badasser in this hat than Jack does!
Jessica’s friend Alex–yeah, the one making the face–who luckily doesn’t know me and won’t know to give me a hard time about posting this!
Chris, who humped Jessica’s friend Alex all night!
of course, Sonya!
but most of all me! So much so that I apparently talked about it all night! That must have been really fun for everyone else, eh?!
Preeeeeeeeeetty much the best time ever. And all in fake-honor of me.
Don’t worry. The tights are only for Sonya.
Filed under creepy boyfriend obsession, holidays don't suck for me, par-tay
Tagged as creepy boyfriend obsession, holidays don't suck for me, par-tay
Tagged as creepy boyfriend obsession, holidays don't suck for me, par-tay
This is how I feel right now.
Luckily, tomorrow night is my dance-a-thon fake-birthday party with all of my co-workers, and I’m pumped to see someone get down in a way so awful we’ll all still remember it come Monday morning. And I’m expecting that that person to be me.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, my friend Sonya and I are off to buy some gold lamé tights for the occasion.
Get Free Stuff for Searching Google
If you’re already searching Google, you should be doing it via swagbucks.com, a site that uses Google technology to deliver your results but also gives you points that you can redeem for Amazon gift cards, iTunes credits, Starbucks coffee, and a whole lotta other jazz.
I figure that I might as well being getting paid for doing what I already do, so I downloaded the toolbar to put the search bar right in my browser window at all times. The only drawback I’ve found so far is that it only retrieves the first four pages of Google results, but as my best friend said when she signed up, “I’m anything but thorough with my searches.”
Apparently I get points when you get points if I refer you, so use my link and help us both win. But mostly just me.
These Crocs’ll Rip Your Toes Off
Maybe you weren’t affected by this, since you’re obviously not some midwestern fashion victim who’d be caught dead in Crocs, but I’m not embarrassed to say that I bought the Athens last year on a whim at one of the retail kiosks in Grand Central, and it turned out to be the most incredible footwear purchase of my life. Yeah, they’re too clunky to wear with skirts, but they look fine with jeans, and my feet feel like they’re on clouds when I’m in them.
HOWEVER, soon after I fell in love with my Crocs, I heard some talk of people building up static and getting shocked while in them, especially at hospitals. But since I make it a point to avoid the sick and the frail, I went right on wearing mine. Later, I heard about people having problems with them getting stuck in escalators but assumed it was a myth until Dr. Boyfriend and I trudged up a stopped escalator at Port Authority and saw that the reason it had halted was
a stuck croc!
A child’s Croc, no less. But as luck would have it, I’m not a complete retard and will continue to wear my Crocs flip-flops with abandon. ‘Cause if they’re good enough for G.W. Bush and an oddly pigeon-toed Nicholson, they’re good enough for me.
Happy Birthday to Me! and I’m Sorry About the Smell
Filed under holidays don't suck for me, jobby jobby job job, narcissism, too much information
Tagged as holidays don't suck for me, jobby jobby job job, narcissism, too much information
Tagged as holidays don't suck for me, jobby jobby job job, narcissism, too much information
My dear Dr. Boyfriend has a series of uplifting catchphrases, my favourites being “everything’s coming up Kamran” and “it’s your world, squirrel”. For my birthday today, he sent me this:
And while I have no idea who invited the guy in the cowboy hat to my party, I appreciate the sentiment.
But I’ll tell you what–it’s rough having a birthday when you’re lactose intolerant. As you may remember, I’ve been working on becoming lactose tolerant, and while I do believe I’m making strides, what’s coming out of my bum today smells nasty. I keep running out of the bathroom as soon as I’m finished, because I don’t want to hang around and have to explain to my co-workers who weren’t in New Orleans with me this week, “I’m lactose intolerant, but there was an ice cream bar at lunch yesterday, and what was I supposed to do?! It’s my goddamned birthday!”
I’m off to New Orleans!
While there for the next three days in the Harrah’s Hotel and Casino, I plan to:
• not gamble
• not sightsee in any way
• not get drunk and show my boobs to anyone
• mostly lie about in my ridiculously-overpriced hotel room, devising ways to steal M&Ms from my minibar
Yaaaaay, work trips!
But it isn’t crap. It’s my life.
In this week’s New York magazine, Mario Batali says, “When people ask, ‘How are you, man?’ I say, ‘Life is a constant source of joy, every breath a gift!’ And they say, ‘Fuck you,’ because it sounds like crap. But it isn’t crap. It’s my life.”
Samesies, Mario Batali. Samesies.
