Friday, March 30, 2007

Warning: Obnoxious pet story ahead

My one cat, Mimi, has recently turned into a big snot-ball about only drinking fresh water from the sink. She follows me around and then as soon as I use the bathroom sink she comes over and sticks her butt in my face to get me to move so she can drink.

Well apparently Mimi has grown tired of having her getting to drink from the sink being contingent on me USING the sink because I have just discovered that Mimi has taught herself how to turn the faucet herself. How resourceful!

Quit your whining, Hedy!

You happy now?

Wednesday, March 28, 2007

My true destiny is calling!

Lesley: eww I just found a hair growing out of my neck. I need to tweeze that mofo

: like at the edge of your hairline, or in a totally non-populated area?

: totally non-populated, under my jaw bone

: WHAT?!?!?! That is your CHIN not your NECK

: no it's not! it's on my neck!

: sorry. hairy chin

: by my lymph node

: especially strange!

: sign of cancer?

: I've heard that is a mark of greatness

: oh, I like that one better

: it's true, it's like being born with a caul

: ha ha...maybe they'll ask me to stay [in Peru] and be a shaman because of my neck hair


: like "The Gods Must be Crazy" only instead of a Coke bottle it’s a neck hair


: it might be like removing the birthmark that says you're the new messiah

: that'd be missing out on some great opportunities...

: hells yeah! you don't want to close any doors, you know?

Tuesday, March 27, 2007

Random things to get me through the workday

For those of you not familiar with Found Magazine, I highly recommend you check out their website. It is a compilation of random notes, pictures, signs, etc. that people find on the street or in their apartment, or where ever. You get the picture. These are some of my favorites:

Occasionally I find things that I've considered submitting, but I haven't yet found anything quite like breakup notes written on cat stationery or pictures dated back to the late 19th century. Maybe I should start leaving random notes for people to find...

Monday, March 26, 2007

Never fall asleep in public

There’s a woman that takes the same bus home from work as I do and everyday she consistently passes out cold, presumably from exhaustion. I can’t help but smile every time I see her head bob and sway limply to the movements of the bus. I try to stay awake at all costs when I’m on the bus. I generally don’t like falling asleep in public for fear of being robbed but also, more importantly, because public sleepers are subject to laughter and ridicule. A few years ago, before I had a car and when I was working in retail, I was always dead tired every time I had to close the shop and I had to take a hellish 35-minute bus ride through downtown to get home. There was one night in particular when I remember being so extremely exhausted I could hardly move. I was working full-time, taking 17 credits, and had just pulled an all-nighter to complete a midterm paper. As soon as my shift at the shop ended I just wanted to collapse. I got on the bus and passed out. I vaguely recall someone getting on the bus around MCTC and sitting down next to me, but I closed my eyes and fell back asleep. About 20 minutes passed before I came to and realized that I had been sleeping on the shoulder of the guy who sat down next to me. To make matters even more uncomfortable, he had apparently fallen asleep himself and was all snuggled up with me. I jerked up from his shoulder, rang the bell, shared an awkward glance with the stranger, and bolted off the bus. I vowed to never fall asleep in public again.

Saturday, March 24, 2007

Holy hangover, Batman!

Last night was hella fun

This morning was not.

Monday, March 19, 2007

Allow myself to introduce....myself.

This is Lesley:

This is the view from the toilet in the house Lesley grew up in:

There is a gorilla head and a thumb hiding in there. Can you find them? Everytime I would look at that patch of wallpaper, I would always look for those spots.

When we moved into that house EVERY SQUARE INCH of the house was pink. The rooms were painted pink, the ceilings were painted pink, the carpeting was pink, even the garage was pink. The only areas in the house that were not pink was my leopard print bathroom wallpaper (see above picture), the powder room, and the basement-- both of which were turquoise. It was like the 80s exploded in my house. My parents did all they could to minimize the pink, but they only had so much money so we had to settle for some compromises. For instance, we painted over my pink walls with green paint but we had to keep the pink carpeting….so instead of living in a Pepto Bismol bottle of a bedroom, I got to live in a watermelon.

This is my brother and his wife:

I have a moderately strained relationship with them. He’s a hot shot lawyer and is also quite a bit older than me which meant that he went away to college and moved out when I was in fourth grade. Aside from reminiscing about growing up, the only things we can really talk about are whiskey, jazz music, and red wine.

This is my other brother:

Sorry, ladies, he’s married too.

This brother, on the other hand, is one of my best friends. He is a fire fighter paramedic and one of the weirdest people I know (see above picture). We talk on the phone nearly every day….most of the time our conversations involve talking about poop or singing show tunes.

My brothers raised me well. I learned that the most effective way to settle a disagreement is with a swift punch to the kidneys and they made sure I learned how to drink beer, play pool, and play poker like a pro.

Sunday, March 18, 2007

For those of you trying to win a girl's heart...

...don't spend the night complaining about how you're broke and then make the girl pay for dinner and then insist on going cd shopping afterwards.

I want to shove Jeremy’s egg beater butt plug into their eye socket

You may recall back to my fiasco involving a flat tire and a humidifier from hell. Apparently that was fiasco part I and today I’ve progressed to fiasco part II. I sent back the defective humidifier and was waiting for a new one to be sent back to me. It arrived while I was in Chicago and a friendly neighbor signed for it. When he gave it to me today, I discovered that they only sent me half of the humidifier! What the hell am I going to do with the humidifier stand without the humidifier?! I just got back from a walk/run around the lakes to vent and am now prepared to bring out my big guns to get this shit dealt with. Konichiwa bitches, it’s been over a month since I placed my order- give me a muthafuckin’ refund!

Tuesday, March 13, 2007

yep....still a lameass

I'm in Chicago now for the week on my action-packed spring break. Actually, there really is no action. I'm at my parents' house in the suburbs laying around doing nothing. In fact, I'm doing so much nothing that I actually considered going to the dentist in place of my mom, just to give me something to do. I'm not complaining, though. It's nice to have a week to lay around and decompress. I am sad I won't be at the Chatterbox tomorrow, though. Maybe I'll go with my brother to the Island Tap tomorrow night and pretend I'm playing musical bingo. I'll draw a picture of someone pooping and it will be just the same. The Island is one of the greatest claims of my town. It is pretty much a storage shed in the back parking lot of one of the buildings on our main street that some guy turned into a bar. Picture Al's diner in Dinkytown with beer. Few people in my stuck-up suburban hell of a town know about it because it is so small and crappy looking on the outside. I hope it stays that way.

Tuesday, March 6, 2007

Sorry I'm such a lameass

I’m still alive, I know I had you all worried. My life kind of exploded and, well, things happen. Ok, yeah, I’ve also just been really lazy. You caught me! Whatever. Right now I’m trying desperately to find enough candles/incense to cover up the smell that’s coming into my apartment from the hallway. It smells like burnt grossness and plastic so my best guess is that some idiot in my building forgot to unwrap their frozen pizza before they stuck it in the oven.

At work I was going through the spam emails we get and one in particular caught my eye. It was from a man (?) named Tadpole C. Uzbekistan. I realize that it was an alias that was most likely generated by putting a string of random words together, but it reminded me of the game middle schoolers play to figure out their porn star name. I always played using the name of your first pet combined with the street you grew up on. Mine is Mo Burdick, which sounds like the name of a porn star who gets filmed in some old hairy guy’s living room.

When I was 5 years old I hated my name and planned on legally changing it when I was old enough. I wanted to change it to Elizabeth Maries because Elizabeth and Mary were my two favorite names. I don’t remember why I liked the names Elizabeth and Mary; I was just that cool growing up. Needless to say, I decided that was a stupid idea but I still use the name as an alias in emergency situations. So if you’re ever hitting on a chick and she tells you her name is Elizabeth Maries, there’s a good chance that you won’t be getting into her pants because the number she gave you is bogus. Sorry, you just weren’t my type.

This came up when I did a Google search for "wrong number". Genius.