funny

Hey Centipede, You Wanna Go to the Bar?

Happy New Year! Let’s Enjoy the Time of Year When Drive Thru Lines Are Shortest!!

chickennugs

A friend of mine recently told me about a phenomenon of his creation: the holiday hangover. When the holidays are over but their negative effects linger. Bills, having to readjust your sleep schedule, weight gain, and having to go see that big group of aholes who always let you down again. Not family. The other group: coworkers. Before I let go of vacation completely I’m going to honor it here.

Here is a breakdown of my glorious Christmas break by the numbers: 

People with the flu determined to infect me: 7

Times I got sick: 0. Thank you, Zicam nasal spray. If you believe nothing I say ever again believe this. Zicam is a miracle. It’s like Jesus Christ rolled in Wonder Bread slathered with Nutella.

New recipes prepared: 4 (latkes, macaroni & cheese balls, white clam sauce, pepperonata sauce) 

Pounds Gained: 2. See above.

Average Wakeup Time: 7 am with one very rad 9:30 am

Board Games Played: 3 (Pictionary, electronic taboo, bejeweled) Turns out Bejeweled works best as an electronic game because their algorithms ensure you have at least one match at all times. Not sure in the manual version. I got pretty defensive trying to explain to my boyfriend that it is, in fact, fun when I play it as an app.

Drinking Games Played: 1 (King’s Cup) Drinking the King’s Cup is waaaay less gross when people aren’t pouring beer and tequila up in there. The drink was actually kinda good despite my protests to the contrary.

New Movies Watched: 2 (The Interview, The Gambler with Mark Wahlberg)

New-To-Me Movies Watched: 6 (The Skeleton Twins, Aliens, Blue Jasmine, That Awkward Moment, Nebraska, The Human Centipede, Zathura)

Okay let’s stop here for a second. The Human Centipede is a spectacle to behold. It was weird, it was funny, it was the most nauseating thing I have ever seen and I have seen both Here Comes Honey Boo Boo and Two Girls, One Cup. In case you’ve never seen it, here’s the gist: there’s a crazy, anti-social German doctor who earned accolades for separating Siamese twins but all that work got him to wondering a few things. 1) Would joining things together be as fulfilling as separating them and 2) Do those idiots that sit on balance balls at work ever have sore backs?

Because no one will ever know the answer to number two, the good doctor decides to tackle number one. He experiments first with dogs but then he quickly moves on to humans because really, same difference. So just as he starts amassing people to test his theory on, two American porn stars turned tourists show up at his door at night in the pouring rain asking to use the phone. Yeah I know what you’re thinking:

You've arrived on a rather special night. It's one of the master's affairs.

You’ve arrived on a rather special night. It’s one of the master’s affairs.

But unfortunately for them, they were crashing an even freakier party. So the dude is all “come on in” so that he can promptly roofie and subdue them while he goes on out to get another person of compatible size for his project. He comes back with a very petite and yet surly Japanese man who keeps shouting the same thing:

The Japanese possess unbelievable strength when backed into a corner

The Japanese possess unbelievable strength when backed into a corner!!!

But the doc is all whatevs and proceeds to sew them together, butt-to-mouth. He gives the mouthiest chick the middle position, which is essentially just a human tube for feces to flow through and makes the sassy Japanese guy the front for whatever reason. Maybe he likes a challenge. After the centipede is completed, Dr. Feel Good wants his pet to do some really basic tricks for him like fetch and eat so much that you evacuate your bowels into the human mouth sewn to your anus.

hc2

The doctor is pleased but also already looking ahead to how he can grow the size of his pet when he runs into some problems. What, you thought I’d spoil the whole thing for you?

The weird thing is that I really thought the first one was gross but even the description of part two is way way worse. I don’t know if I can handle it. But if I’m able to, y’all are definitely going to be treated to an extremely descriptive review!!

Anyway, where were we….

Invention Ideas: 3

Viable Invention Ideas: 0

Times I Wore My Friends Shoes to the Bar Thinking They Were Mine and That My Feet had Shrunk: 1. Thankfully. In my defense how many people have both giant feet and 4-inch patent leather heels? Two apparently.

Farewell 2014, Christmas Break and all the social media friends I axed in the only kind of cleanse I’m up for after imagining a surly porn star glued to my backside. Here’s to the new year, the old me and to never getting stranded on German backroads.

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The Good, The Bad and The Fugly

You know that feeling you get Sunday night when you realize the fun of the weekend is about to come to an end? After a long winter’s break I’m feeling that times about a thousand. I.do.not.want.to.go.back.on.Monday. It’s even harder considering I just started this job in December and worked for just three weeks before getting two and a half weeks off. But because this is the Unentitlement Project, I am trying to push that aside by doing some blessing counting.

Here are some things I’m grateful for:

1. I got everything I wanted for Christmas. And a lot of rad things I didn’t even know I wanted. I have gift cards to places I actually go, a stack of books I’m excited to read, new video games and board games I can’t wait to play and a hammock. A goddamn hammock y’all. The only thing better would be a katana and a world where it’s cool to just lop off the heads of folks you don’t like.

And that's for taking my parking space, bitch.

And that’s for taking my parking space, bitch.

2. Both Shameless and Girls are coming back next week.

3. Those pay-by-the-minute massage chairs. Love them with as much fervor as I hate anyone who just sits in those chairs without using them while people are waiting to use them. Fool, go get yourself a bench.

4. The fact that I don’t have to worry about writing “2014” on my checks because nobody writes checks anymore. Nobody who isn’t in front of me at the grocery store anyway.

5. This picture:

I'd like to pull Marie Rodin up by her bootstraps

I’d like to pull Marie Rodin up by her bootstraps

And here are some things that suck:

1. People all of a sudden saying “I’m feeling some kind of way” about everything. This bugs me as much as “it is what it is” did and even more than people inserting “literally” before literally everything. Because why bother saying you are feeling any way if you refuse to be anything more than completely vague?

2. When channels and satellite providers go to war and your shows become one big banner about how the other side is being so unfair and you wish you weren’t so invested in this bullshit because otherwise you’d show them both what’s up and stop watching but that just ain’t gonna happen so I guess I’ll just watch more ads on AMC/FX/etc

3. When even that egg nog you bought after Christmas is about to expire.

I Invented Post-Its and The Big Eyes Paintings

Every single one of us has been made to do a group project at school or work with someone who ultimately takes the lion’s share of the credit after contributing way less. Some of us were bothered more than others, the universal knowledge being that these things happen and nobody really cares and that you’ll have chances to shine on your own merit eventually.

For Margaret Keane eventually took awhile. The story goes like this. Homegirl met a real charming dude named Walter who swept her off her feet, married her and became stepfather to her little girl. Before too long though he decides he doesn’t really like the idea of her leaving the house and that instead she should be locked inside, forced to paint for up to 16 hours a day. Turns out though that Margaret was really good at painting so Walter had exactly zero choices. He had to take her pretty feminine, sorta creepy work and pass it off as his own.

The Big Bad Wolf Woulda Loved This Bitch

The Big Bad Wolf Woulda Loved This Bitch

 

Just the cheerful creation of a middle aged dude who keeps his wife locked up all day. NBD

Just the cheerful creation of a middle aged dude who keeps his wife locked up all day. NBD

There were a lot of critics who thought the dolls were kinda LCD but the masses couldn’t get enough and before you know it prints and postcards of the paintings were being sold everywhere, the modern day version of “Keep Calm and Insert Nauseating Alternative.” The Keanes had millions of dollars, a mansion and servants. And for a good long while Margaret had no idea Walter, an aspiring artist himself, was taking credit for her work. But when he let her attend one of his/her art shows one day and a patron asked her if she also painted, Margaret was like:

Although Margaret was pissed, Walter was all, “Bae, if we confess now people will be confused and start suing us so it really is best for everyone if you go back to painting in a dark, locked room 16 hours a day while I hang with the likes of The Beach Boys and write a book about my life as a painter.” The book was pretty rad even if only in hindsight. According to Walter when they met Margaret gushed over his talent and begged to touch his paintings in order to be similarly inspired. He told her “no effin way” obvi because her no-talent ass would rub off on his works of art but he did stick it to her, which resulted in his writing that she said he was the best lover she’d ever had.

Finally Margaret broke away from dude after he set her studio on fire in a temper tantrum but STILL he expected her to mail him paintings, which she actually did for awhile. But after a couple of years she was like, “you know what? No. Guess what everyone? I painted those and for what? I never even got to meet Brian Wilson.” Walter of course asserted the paintings were his and finally the two met in court where a brilliant judge was all, “Okay hows about you both recreate this here Big Eye painting and we will see who the real artist is?” Margaret nails it and Walter sits there painting nothing because he has a sore shoulder. Otherwise he absolutely could have painted it blindfolded. Vindication is Margarets! To make up for the many years she lost to the darkness she gets a movie telling her story with banging Amy Adams portraying her. Unfortunately Walter won’t be able to see it because he drank himself to death and ended up dead broke.

I completely get how Margaret feels. I used to have an ex who would repeat jokes I told him quietly at parties in a really loud voice and then when people would laugh he would bask in their adoration. It would have remained mildly amusing had he not been offered a tv show based on his standup comedy and a salary in the low six figures after telling one of these jokes. Okay so that last part didn’t really happen but he legit stole a lot of my jokes and that? was not funny. But like Margaret I am now free to enjoy my life in the sunshine with my talent on display and my ex if not actually dead then at least financially and emotionally ailing.

Here’s to karma, bitches!

Keep Your Germs, You Filthy Animal

There are lots of times I’d like to get sick and sit around in bed watching old Seinfeld episodes or playing this game where I listen to really sad songs on repeat and wondering how many times I can play it before I either text that old friend who I haven’t spoken to in years out of the blue or get into the bathtub holding a cement block. It’s a super fun game. Kind of like Jumanji but way more interactive!

Bring me my breakfast in bedddddd

Bring me my breakfast in bedddddd

The holidays, one of the only times where everyone gets off work anyway, is NOT one of those times. The holidays are for funneling egg nog, chain smoking, watching Christmas movies and ingratiating myself to old relatives on the off chance they die soon and have no other ideas for appropriate heirs.
Santy don't visit the funeral homes, little buddy

Santy don’t visit the funeral homes, little buddy

But because everyone is saving their vacation time to blow on Christmas break everyone has come to work the past couple of weeks more sick than a priest with an annual passport to Disneyland. If I got a nickel for every time I said “bless you” or “god, that sounds awful” or “idlovetotryoneofyourhomemadetreatseventhoughiveseenyouinthebathroomandiknowyoudontwashyourhands” I would have myself a merry little Christmas to the tune of a PS4 and a house elf like Harry Potter had to do all my bidding.

Dobby is sorry he forgot to get the Marie Callender’s Ranch again, Amber Edwards. He knows how you hate the celery-laden mess that is Hidden Valley

At first I reacted the same way I always do when I’m around sick people, with that “I hardly ever get sick” swagger. But now I’m starting to get scared. By the time I get full-on congested, leaking, hacking sick these fools will be all better and I’ll be like Cameron in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off before he finally grew a pair and realized being the third wheel to a really hot couple isn’t so bad if you take frequent bathroom breaks. Except Cameron was stupid rich and could do rad voice impressions. I am without those particular consolations to keep me warm at night when I’m freezing from a fever and everyone else is nestled all snug in their beds.

So fair readers, if you think coming to work sick any time -but especially this most sacred time of year- makes you a hero, think again. It makes you a dick. And it makes the rest of us kinda hate you and that? is that gift that keeps on giving the whole year.

Jam? How's about I jam this up your ass?

Jam? How’s about I jam this up your ass?

A Few of My Favorite Things

You know that moment in your day when one bad thing can become magnified into everything that is wrong with your life and create a tsunami of frustration/sadness/aggravation? That traffic jam, that broken grocery bag handle, that missing cup of beloved sweet n sour sauce. Nearly every day I have moments like this, moments where I’m outraged that the good day I feel entitled to becomes marred. It is that entitlement that takes me away from being able to appreciate everything in my life going right big and small, that stops me from noticing that I have a job, a home, a boyfriend and the most hilarious, supportive and entertaining friends and family a girl could want. It stops me from being happy that I have a nice car to get stuck in traffic in, money to buy the groceries now rolling down the gd driveway and…that’s where I have to stop. There is nothing redeemable about chicken nuggets without sweet n sour. They’re necessary. Like silpats to baking or pore minimizer to Bruce Jenner.

You're just jealous because other than the dick I have a better body than you. (He's not wrong)

You’re just jealous because other than the dick I have a better body than you. (He’s not wrong)

Whenever I have these thoughts I start working on reversing my negativity by counting my blessings and internally I am always able to bring myself around. Still it has occurred to me that it would be rad if there was a place I could go to that would expedite the frown turning upside down, an external source for busting up entitltement. Since I couldn’t find such a place I decided to create it. I present to you The Unentitlement Project. Any time you’re feeling like a nugget without its sauce, come on over.

Since it’s day one, I’m not going to go too deep. I’m just going to write a quick poem to the tune of My Favorite Things:

Meatballs on pasta and caramel on ice cream

Banging Mark Wahlberg in a really long dream

My sausage fingers all covered in rings

These are a few of my favorite things

 

Rocky Balboa pounding Apollo

Watching Real Housewives because I am shallow

Ignoring the calls of creepers that cling

These are a few of my favorite things

 

Dogs wearing sweaters and cops without radar

Dancing with men who set off my gaydar

A bucket of blue cheese and all of the wings

These are a few of my favorite things

 

When the boss lurks

When the cramps hurt

When I’m as broke as a bum

I simply remember my favorite things

And then I don’t feel soooo glum

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