Hall-O-Imaweenie

I was going to post about this airhead customer I had yesterday, but after the afternoon I had, I can't make fun of anyone... at least for the rest of the day.

After work, I wanted to try and get my Halloween costume before the last minute, like I usually do. I went to one of those temporary seasonal stores that they put in strip malls for the duration of October. Upon walking up to the establishment, I could already tell that the costumes and accessories were sub-par, but I needed something basic, so I went in.

After work, I always call my friend Laura, and was on the phone with her as I perused the pirate gear (not because I want to be a pirate for Halloween, but for everyday use... ya know... the usual.) I noticed randomly placed statues displaying costumes and masks as I continued to chat on my cell. All of the sudden one of the statues bum rushes me in attempt to scare the hell out of me. You succeeded freak. I hate you.

****Note to readers: I HATE being surprised. Not like, "hey... I surprised you by coming in town for the weekend," I mean surprised as "I'm going to jump out from behind a wall and try and make you crap your pants with terror."

I hate haunted houses. I have actually faked injuries and illness on 2 separate occasions. I faked an asthma attack and a sprained ankle so the "monster" that was trying to scare me would take pity and let me pass through the situation emotionaly unscathed.

I acutally had to work as a monster in a haunted house for a softball fundraiser in H.S., and was TERRIFIED. Yep, I was scared to WORK in a haunted house. What a pussy.

So back to today....

I was pissed that this dude in the costume shop got the better of me. But I didn't scream or anything, I just kind of jumped... which is an improvement. If I hadn't been on the phone, I would have probably punched the poor kid out, as this is my knee-jerk response to being surprised. Just ask my little sister... she had the bruises as a child to prove it.

As it turns out, Laura had been in the store earlier and had been scared by the same dude. (She didn't give me a heads up, because she didn't know which store I was in.) So at that point, I was constantly looking over my shoulder making sure there were no other "statues" out to get me. Laura assured me that there weren't any others, and told me to stop being so lame.

Here is why I am a Weenie: (as if I haven't given enough reasons up til now)

Me: Laura! Did you see this one decoration?? It's a faceless, caped man-thing, and I think it has a motion detecor because its head moves to face where I am walking!

Laura: Really? I don't remember seeing that.

Me: Yeah it's really cool.... wait... it that a guy dressed up? or a decoration? It's really cool, but I bet it's expensive. I don't have the scratch for that. Wait... I can't tell if it is a guy or not.

Random Woman: I know! I was trying to figure that out too!

Me: I think it's a guy... (moves toward exit)

Laura: What?

(masked caper starts running toward me)

Me: AHHHH!! YOU JUST LOST A CUSTOMER!!! (runs out the door)

Laura: What just happened?

Me: I'm in my car now, I just ran out of that store and was afraid he would chase me in the parking lot.

Laura: You are so sad.


Slaminky Malargy to you and yours....


Now Playing: "Feel Good Inc." Gorillaz

True Life: I'm an addict

Actually, I am only addicted to True Life on MTV. First step is admitting, right?

I usually try not to watch all that much TV, but this weekend has been a rainy one here in Ohio, and these one hour episodes are hypnotic to say the least. There was a marathon on yesterday, and I was basically a worthless piece of crap for the entirety of the day.

I feel like this show isn't so much reality TV as mini-documentaries, so since they are educational, I shouldn't be ashamed(Denial works well for me.) Some can be heartbreaking like, True Life: I am dead broke, or some are pretty funny, such as True Life: I have a summer share at the Jersey Shore.

If you haven't seen the show, basically they take a topic and follow around 3 different people coping with that situation. They are really insightful, and a lot of the time pretty random topics. Maybe there will be a True Life about me.... True Life: I want to be a pirate of yesteryear, or True Life: I'm a Cryptozoologist (that's one for both of us Abby)


Slaminky Malargy to you and yours...

Now Playing: Sneakin' Sally Through the Alley" by Robert Palmer. Speaking of addictions...I'm addicted to this song, just as much as Robert Palmer is Addicted to Love. Even after death, he is Simply Irresistable.

That was pretty lame.

Slaminky Malargy

Questions of Science… Science and Progress…

After reading Scotty Gee's post about his physical the other day.... I began to ponder the wonderment of the male anatomy. (Second time I have used that word this week... I didn't know I was THIS into science.)

When piercing a scrotum, does it ooze a white, sperm-like substance after the initial prick?

Or does one simply deflate similar to letting the air out of a tire after said puncture?

If being in cold water makes them shrivel up, does warmer water engorge them?

Why does constricting them with whitey-tighties lower the sperm count?

I once knew a girl who saw a guy inflate his own testicle as a party trick. She said it grew before her eyes to the size of a grapefruit. For dramatic effect, he would wrap his lips around his thumb like he was blowing up a balloon as he inflated it.

Seriously boys... what’s the deal with balls? They are so weird.


Slaminky Malargy to you and yours.....

Now Playing: "Shadowboxer" -Fiona Apple (from my hibbity-dibbity playlist)

Anatomy 101

My nose is running, and my feet smell.

I must have been built upside down.

I am hilarious.


Slaminky Malargy to you and yours...

Now Playing: "Full Ride" -311

Weekend Update... CONTINUED!

Ok, so the all caps "continued" in my title, makes this post sound really exciting... although maybe funny, not that exciting.

I recently have been informed/reminded of new highlights from my Saturday night.

- An older man at the bar gave me some advice in affairs of the heart. "Don't give your heart away all at once. Just a fraction at a time. You have to make sure your man is good for you: honest and polite and loves you back." Drunk advice is always funny, but this kinda made sense. Then he showed me how good of a man HE was by telling me I was blessed with a nice rack. Yikes!

- Some dude started quizzing me on the Jukebox tunes... (does he not know my new nickname? hello?) When I identified the singers of "Don't Go Breaking My Heart" as Elton John and Kiki Dee, he proceeded shout KIKI DEE!!!!!! at me and demand lots of high fives.... for the rest of the night.

- Same dude decides to run through all of the derogatory remarks concerning Italians to my friend Anthony. Like a true gentleman, he just smiled politely as this douche bag called him a WOP, trying to be funny.

-Saw two guys trading punches in the chest at the bar. I am convinced that men don't need to speak the same verbal language, because they can act stupid together no matter what.

-Apparently sang "Total Eclipse of the Heart" on my dear Flounder's voice mail at around 3:30 in the morning. The drunk dials have turned into serenades, so keep that in mind and make your requests accordingly.



Slaminky Malargy to you and yours....

Now Playing: "Harmonize" -John Forte

Como se dice.... Fuck Off?

I had a decently fun weekend. I didn't have any precidented plans, so I was a little worried that I would be spending yet another weekend on the couch watching re-runs of That 70s Show.

I would re-tell my Friday night with Laura, but she doesn't read my blog out of sheer principle and although it was nice to get out and have a fancy dinner with her, there was nothing too hilarious or out of the ordinary to mention. I DID try to strike up a conversation with this guy at the Irish pub, who had an accent of sorts. I think he was Irish, but he was drinking a Budweiser... was he trying to fit in? I don't get it.

So to re-cap Friday night: Dinner and Drinks at Martini's (Fancy Shmancy), pint at Claddaugh and then I went to a friend's house and had a few beers and stimulating conversation til 4 a.m.

Saturday: The Buckeyes won.... thank god. Well, don't REALLY thank God, he has better things to do with his time than to help my hometown college football team beat Michigan State. Let's be honest.

Satruday night me and the boys (Joe, Jared, Anthony, and Bobby) head to the good ol' Bier Stube.... voted Playboy's #1 best bar for good looking college chicks in 1985.

Highlights:

-Anthony walks up to some random girl who is sitting with her boyfriend, chugs a beer and then slams the glass down on their table and says...."EVEN JESUS COULDN'T DO THAT!" kisses his bicep and walks away.

-Taking Anthony outside for some fresh air and a bathroom break, and having to actually tell him that I wouldn't hold it for him as he held onto the dumpster for dear life.

-Dancing and singing to EVERYTHING that came on the Jukebox. Jukebox music is seriously the best.... Ever. Joe and Bobby are good dancers! ALWAYS impressive... right ladies??

-Trying to run away from this short, little Mexican man, because I could not understand his broken, slurred English and would not tolerate his roaming hands to my no-no spots. I tried to be nice for like the first 10 times he approached, but getting "handsy" will not convince me to stick around.

-Running into a boy that my sister made out with once, and repeating to him that he "dogged" her... over and over again. And then finding out that he actually REALLY liked her, but she was too far away. So..... HI MEGAN! From, Chris. (You missed out jackass.)

-Going to an OSU late night and feeling about a bazillion years old, and then finding out I was actually drinking in the same room with a kid that is CURRENTLY ENROLLED AT MY OLD HIGH SCHOOL. I jetted out of there like the place was on fire.

-Shout out to those who I drunk dialed (Brett, Brandon, Tim, Art, Pretty Haired Brad, JT, Holly, Buffie, Bill, Jimmy G, Jenn, Aaron (I think), Tracie, Aimee.... and anyone else.) I was on the rampage. In my defense, most of those people LOVE it when they get the drunk dials, and actually request them. (Except Tim.... sorry!) Otherwise, I am pretty good about not calling those who HATE them.

-Having a drunk heart to heart with Joe about ex-boyfriends/girlfriends and not really remembering it the next day.... or now.

Good brew, good friends, good times...

So as I always say.... I am never drinking again.

Slaminky Malargy to you and yours....

Now Playing: "Use Me" -Bill Withers

Yes Please!

1. Colin Farrell

2. Patrick Dempsey

3. Jason Statham

4. Dave Matthews/David Bowie/David Caruso (kidding)

5. Rodrigo Santoro


Enough said.... feel free to submit your top 5. (mine changes day to day, but number one and three are always the same)

Slaminky Malargy to you and yours...

Now Playing: "In a Daydream" by Freddy Jones Band

Help! I need somebody....

Hopefully someone who has a love affair with the internet and knows more than I do (Which really isn't saying much) can help me as to why when I click on my comment button, or other blogs' comment buttons that nothing happens.

And now all of the sudden I have this eye thing at the bottom with a red blocked ensignia slightly over it. WHAT DOES THIS MEAN? I think there is some sort of correlation. I click on it and it starts talking about cookies. I love cookies..... chocolate chip, oatmeal, peanut butter... you name it. But if I can't dip a cookie in milk, and I not going to pay much attention to it.

I know I sound so stupid, and I KINDA care.... but I am not embarrassed enough to not ask for assistance.

So anyone know what I am talking about and try and help me out? (Oh, I can still open up the comment page, but I have to right click and open it that way, unlike the NORMAL way.)

Slaminky Malargy to you and yours....

Now playing: "Dreadlock Holiday" -10cc

Sweet Sixteen

Ok... so I OCCASIONALLY watch (every episode) Super Sweet 16 on MTV. Yes, I know it is rotting my brain, but I don't care. (It can't possibly be worse for brain activity than my usual weekend actvities.)

Does anyone want to climb into the TV and slap these teenage brats and sit them down for a lecture on the value of a dollar? It makes me absolutely sick (um... why do I watch then?) to see these girls, and sometimes gay boys, flip out, complain, bitch, cry and plain ol' stomp their feet when they don't get their way when planning their $50,000+ birthday bash.

I still remember my "Sweet 16", because my mind is a steel trap, and it was held in my parent's basement (where I currently type this) and I had my cousin Michael bring his stereo equipment over and act as DJ. Because, hello? I Love me some dance parties. My mother served homemade pizza, and pop (I'm from Ohio... it's "pop" not "soda".... get it right.)

A common comment by the other party goers is "This is better than my wedding is going to be!!" No my dear. Your wedding is going to be on a completely different radar. A radar that detects serving pitchers of beer at the VFW, where peanut shells cover the floor. (My dad suggested this EXACT scenario for my wedding.)

The saddest part of these shows, is the fact that they have no clue. I feel like I was aware of the world around me at 16. These girls live in bubbles, and their parents condone this selfish "me" attitude, and they might never realize there is a whole world out there that doesn't include BMWs and foam parties (that's one for you Abs).

Maybe I watch it because I always feel at the end there will be some sort of revalation. Ok... let's be honest, I like to make fun of them. It's what I do, and I do it well.

Slaminky Malargy to you and yours...

Now Playing: "Blue Diamonds" by Rusted Root

Sloopy won't hang on for long

Okay, so this weekend has sucked balls for my favorite sports teams. My beloved Yankees lost on Friday, now they are down 2-1 in the first round of post season play. They play tonight at 8:15 p.m. so they better suck it up and kick some Angel ass.

And to top it off... the Buckeyes lost to Penn State making it impossible for us to go to the National Championship. We had so much hope and promise, but of course, we absolutely fall apart after a week off, and can't seem to pull it together. (Rememeber the Northwestern game last year?? Kinda like THAT!)

Anywho.... aside from that, I had a pretty interesting night at the good ol' Cactus Cafe after the Suckeyes... I mean Buckeyes took one in the tailpipe.

The only reason we even frequent (and by frequent, I mean drank there twice) the Cactus is because it is literally 50 feet away from the girls' apartment, making it a nice drunken stumble home. Well upon arrival we find that the Cactus is going out of business and it is the last night to serve. So instead of charging for drinks, we only have to pay around 20 bucks, and we can drink as much as we can. Bad idea.

Actually, I handled myself pretty well, I didn't go crazy or anything. For some reason, paying an astronomical sum of money to get drunk makes more sense to me. Because I hardly took advantage of the free-flowin' booze. Idiot.

Hightlights:

-the DJ told the bartender to tell me that one of my drinks was on him (which was stupid, because everything was free), and then I later found out that said drink was not intended for me, but my friend Miranda. I felt like a complete dumbass, because I was JUST about to go up and thank him for the "drink" and my friend Anthony told me the truth. Which was good, because I wasn't interested, but it isn't in my nature to #1. Turn down a drink, or #2 Not say thank-you, and have an obligatory conversation.

-since the bar was closing, people thought this meant they could loot the place, taking draft knobs, beer signs, coolers, photos from the wall, and even the light over the pool table. I did not partake in the looting but busted a few rhymes about April 26th, 1992. I totally should be a female rapper... Missy Elliott, Lil' Kim, MC Lyte.... you got nuthin' on me.

-the bartender who I called "Jersey" (not to her face) because of her striking resemblance to a Jersey Girl from the 80s (and Kit from Pretty Woman) wanted to take a certain friend of mine home, who shall remain nameless, and after I told him I didn't have a condom to give him, he told me to make one out of saran wrap and gummy bears.... ??

-a particularly charming southern belle from Alambama told me that she lived a Crystal Meth life, and gave me a piece of advice on child rearing:
"Do as much dope as you can, but just love your kids!"
Will do, Kathy, will do.

-Did a little late night dialing/singing to Tracie by singing her boyfriend's band Dark Unicorn's first hit "Butter Baked Beans" to her.

-Came running down the stairs in sheer panic because of Anthony's night terrors. He was SCREAMING something about "Eggbrains" loud enough to hear him from the bedroom upstairs. Then he wouldn't wake up when I came to see if he was alright.


So now I am doing laundry and such, preparing for the Yankees game and Desperate Housewives and Grey's Anatomy. Brace yourself for the excitement of it all.

Slaminky Malargy to you and yours...


Now Playing: "Ain't That a Shame" by Fats Domino

I never give you my pillow, I only send you my invitation, and in the middle of the celebrations, I break down.

I had a little trouble sleeping last night. It was one of those night where you are tired, but you just lay in bed, eyes open, staring into the darkess, until your eyes become comfortable and have the nightvision of a cat.... or something close to that.

I stupidly decided that listening to my iPod would send me to Snoozeland. But being the jukebox I am, it usually just keeps me awake, because I THINK I am anxoius to hear the next song.

I have been plagued with a irreversable sadness lately, and I think I have done a pretty good job of hiding from both the internet and the people around me. But the flood gates opened up last night, and I sat in my dark, lonely bed and cried like I used to do when I had a particularly bad dream as a child. And I did have a bad dream.... but unforunately this dream doesn't end when I wake up.

If you have been reading since the summer, or have read my archives, you know that my cousin Michael died this past June, and this past week they finally got his name engraved on the stone of the mausoleum where he rests. I have no idea why this event rocked me so hard, maybe there is some finality to his passing.

I feel like I can't talk about it to anyone anymore, because I really have nothing new to say.

I wasn't even going to write about it, especially since my cousin Andrea reads this now, and it might make her sad. But writing it is actually making me feel better. Also, I wanted to mention something else:

Michaels best friends, Scott and Becky, are running a marathon October 16th in his name. They are taking donations that go to suicide awareness and prevention. Although they have reached their goal, you are still able to donate.

I understand that our country is absolute shambles after Hurricanes Katrina and Rita, and asking to donate MORE money is kind of taxing on the wallet. But I haven't really done my part in getting the word out for Scott and Becky, and it isn't too late.

So if you would like to donate to help get the word out on suicide awareness and prevention go to:

http://fundraising.marathonguide.com/pfp/Ellsworth


Slaminky Malargy to you and yours....


"Carry that Weight" by The Beatles

Dreams of Waterfalls and Running Faucets

I have decided to start drinking a gallon of water each day, in hopes to cleanse my system. (Sounds gross huh?)

I used to do this back in High School, and supposedly there is no correlation, but I have never had such smooth, clear skin as I did when I was a senior. College replaced water with Jack Daniels and Natural Light (not mixed together) and now that I have been a graduate for some time now, I haven't jumped back into that decently healthy routine.

In theory, there shouldn't be any difficulty in me finishing a gallon by the time I go to bed: I work in a rather warm working enviroment sweating and cotton mouth (kinda sounds like a hangover), and I used to have the nickname "Gulpy" (for drinking too much of friends' beverages when only asking for a sip. Like, "Hey Karl, can I have a sip of that delicious soda?" And then proceeding to accidentaly drink half.... I swear it was an accident. I blame it on a strong throat.)

But for some reason, I usually forget to start on my jug until I get home from work, and have to chug 128 fluid ounces in about 3-4 hours. I tell you, it is A LOT easier to do with beer while flirting, or glued to the naked photohunt game.

So here's to not peeing the bed tonight!! I'm not gonna lie, there have been some close calls in my life. (Come on.... don't tell me that you haven't had the dream where you go to the bathroom only to wake up wetting the bed! No one? Just me? Alright then.....)

Slaminky Malargy to you and yours....


Now Playing: "The Defense" by Bad Religion

One less thing on my wish list

My grandpa got me a bullhorn today. Well, let me rephrase that... My grandpa got himself a bullhorn today.

Why would a 75-year-old man need a bullhorn? Not quite sure. But he is the kind of person who will see a monkey shit for a nickel. He loves a bargain and it just so happens that the bullhorn was under 20 bucks... therefore... a must have. But being the most generous person I know, at my mother's mere mention of my wish list, he called to tell me that he bought me a surprise and it was on its way home to me.

I am pretty sure the people who own bullhorns, are the LAST people on Earth who should have them. I should definitely be included in this category.

Megan is already not pleased with my tendency to yell at pedestrians/other drivers/animals/mailboxes when I am riding with her. Now my voice has some muscle, AND A SIREN! She can't wait!

Mom: (before we go to Target) If you are bringing your bullhorn, I am not going.

Me: I'm not taking it into the store, I just want to yell at some people from the car!

Megan: ABSOLUTELY NOT!

So my fun and games were squashed right quick. I am going to go to the park and hide in some bushes and just do a little commentary for the passersby. I am sure they will appreciate my insight.

Next on my wish list to be fufilled: Metal Spork. Just throwing out ideas for Christmas.


Slaminky Malargy to you and yours....

Now Playing: "You're Nobody Till Somebody Loves You" -Dean Martin

Night at the Roxbury

The best things in life are free, but you can give them to the birds and bees.... I need money. (well, at least after this weekend)

SIDE NOTE: HAPPY BIRTHDAY JONI! (I had a great time at your bday celebration with the girls on Friday night! Didn't you love the balloon hat?)

Apparently by the way I used my debit and credit cards this weekend, I had money to spend, and spend I did. I went on a little shopping spree both Friday and Saturday, and purchased a new wardrobe, complete with accessories. I think the reason I spent so much, was because I was, in fact, blacked out. One minute I was driving to the mall, next thing I know, I am back home with armloads of the latest fall fashions. That is the only logical excuse as to why I could have purchased in such bulk.

I have never really considered myself a shopaholic, and actually never used to spend any money on clothes, until my mother would drag me shopping because all the clothes I decided to wear were held together with safety pins and such. But something came over me this weekend.

So to display one of the new shirts I purchased, I decided to head out for a night on the town with some of my favorite twins: Abby and Lisa Fisher. We went to the Carlise Club down in the Arena District, eventhough I find that the Arena District is ladden which douche bags and illiterate skanks.

Walking into the "dance area", I was assaulted with the mid 90s sound of "Return of the Mack" blaring from the speakers. I was hoping that this was a joke, but the girls and I weren't taking any chances. We figured the only way to make this bar a good time was to get extremely wasted, opposed to the regular wasted we were already planning on. The one hit wonder dance hits kept coming, and so did the shots..... and double jacks, and the beers.... and the drunkness.... and then eventually the drunk dials.

Some of the other "hits" to grace my ears.

"Sweet Dreams" by LaBouche (mid 90s)
"Butterfly" by CrazyTown (2000)
"Faded" by Soul Decision (2000)
"Sexual Healing" Shaggy Remix (late 90s)
"Barbie Girl" by Aqua (late 90s)
"Mountain Music" by Alabama (mid 80s)

Note: I had to look up some of these artists, because they are not in my music library. (ok... MAYBE sexual healing)

There were some other "gems" but the cherry bombs were being poured down my throat in mass quantities, but I do know that the DJ (if you can call him that) was mere steps away from playing "Who Let the Dogs Out."

All in all, it was a good time getting to hang out with some Miami friends and booze a little like we used to. I even got out on the dance floor, (it's amazing how a broken leg feels magically healed with a few strong cocktails) to shake what my mama gave me.

Slaminky Malargy to you and yours....

Now Playing: "Romeo and Juliet" by Dire Straits

p.s. If you are a guy living in Columbus and can stand the club scene, you should really think about going to this club. Chicks outnumbered dicks 4:1

p.s.s. Shout out to: Joe, Karl, Brad, Justano Salizar (who I may or may not have proposed to), Chris, Megan, Pretty Haired Brad, Square Root Aaron, and Luke for drunk dialing between the hours of 2 and 3 a.m. You are troopers for giving me your digits.