I, Dr Zibbs ( @DrZibbs on Twitter) and WcLinda (@wclinda on twitter) are the same person. It's true.
I started the WCLinda character a few months and was planning to do one of several things:
- Show up to a tweet up in drag as WCLinda and out myself. - Have my sister show up at a tweetup as WCLinda to confirm she was actually real. - Have her stalk DrZibbs. They did actualy imply that they met for drinks the other night. And then I also had her drunk tweeting the other night.
But as time went on, I started to feel guilty that people were going to feel tricked. In a bad way. As opposed to, "Oh my God that was great...hahaha."
I think maybe four people knew. One found out accidentally when I accidentally Dmed from my WCLinda account.
So there it is. Thanks for the memories. So did any of you have your suspicions? I know one person that did but I think she knew 100 percent it was me.
Not so much anymore, but when I was younger. And no, it wasn't their apelike strength that scared me. You see, as a lad I was very shy and I think my fear was that they would approach me and want to come up and hug me. Making a huge spectacle. And everyone would look at me.
Like I'd be at a mall or something and I'd hear a commotion. Then I'd round the corner and a retarded person (usually a mongoloid) would see me, stop in his tracks, and for some reason want to hug me. He would then start walking through the crowd, pushing people out of the way and clapping and saying something like, "Mikey! Mikey!"...like he confused me for someone named Mikey.
People would be watching him approach. Some pulling their children in closer. I'd be paralyzed with fear and then...the hugging would begin. And he would be petting my hair, "Wemember dat time that we went da fair? Do you wemember dat Mikey? Do you? ..What's wong Mikey?"
And I'd just stand there, pretending it wasn't happening as people watched.
"What's going on over there?"
"I don't know. From the looks of it some retarded character just found his friend Mikey."
Here are some various things about my weekend at Penn State:
- If my next day counting was correct I had 22 drinks on Friday.
- Thanks to the strangers that invited us to tailgate with them. Best bratwurst ever.
- I convinced a fraternity kid to burn their float but then said, "No I don't think you should really do that."
- One can drink from 11 in the morning until 3 at night as long as you don't stop. And you pace yourself. And graze throughout the day.
- If you want to keep ownership of the hotel hot tub you need to have someone "hold down the fort" at all times. Otherwise a bunch of hairy dudes will get in and it's all over. (The idea of brushing feet with a stranger sickens me).
- I was pushed into a bush ("bushed") and didn't break a hip. And I managed to not spill my drink.
A gin bucket is a plastic pale filled with gin and lemons. The gin is then poured into your mouth with a turkey baster. If you refuse to do it you will be taunted.
- Watching a drunk friend fall off of a chair is still funny.
- Dancing: I still got it. Unveiled "The Grindarena." I need to brush up on my Mick Jagger imitation.
- Having a friend yell, "It's 3 in the morning and I'm trying to sleep and all I hear is your yippin' and your yappin'! SHUT THE FUCK UP!! isn't funny to the person saying it but it's hysterical to the people getting yelled at.
She was my 5th grade teacher. There was one black kid in my class. Richard B.
And so on Halloween he dressed up as a dinner table. You've probably seen the costume. You put like a big old piece of cardboard around your head (with your head being the centerpiece). Then you tape paper plates and silverware around the plate.
That's what Richard B did. And he wore a lone ranger mask. And oh yeah, he was black.
So when it came time for Mrs Mantini to guess who everyone was, he was like the 3rd last to get picked. She was like, "Are you Paul Lambert? No? Hmmm. Lets see...are you Kurt Martila?..No? Oh this is hard."
COME ON!!! It was so obvious. Everyone was looking at each other like, "Yeeeah right. How can she not know it's Richard?"
Then she finally guessed him and she was all, "OH MY GOD! I had no idea. And what a great costume!"
Here's this story I'm writing about wolves. I like to tape record my voice when I write a book then I write it out. In words. It's just easier this way. Free form...you know? Like a jazz player but with fucking words and shit instead of musical notes.
This may have to be a multi-part series. Like Roots. But with wolves. And no Levar Burton or the dad from Good Times.
...There's this fucking wolf but he's like a dire wolf so bigger than a grey wolf. And he's the leader of this tribe of other wolves. So at the beginning of the book his dad died or something and then he's banished from the tribe for some reason.....I don't know...I gotta work that out. But anyway he comes back to the tribe and he's all fucking fucked up and shit. Like scrawny and weak because it's hard to find fucking food when you're a wolf and you're on you own because of the way wolves hunt and shit. (It's true. I did research about wolves).
So he comes back in the tribe and and he fights the one leader wolf even though he's weak as shit. Bites his fucking neck, kills him then stands up on this rock and fucking howls. Big ass moon fucking shining on him and he's all strong now because he got energy from the blood from the wolf he just kicked the ass of.
All the other other wolves bow to him. Undisputed wolf leader. Then they go on all these adventures but he can change himself from a wolf into a human warrior. He looks like the dude on the cover of Flirtin' with Disaster (Molly Hatchet album). And he gets all these smokin' hot chick. Big ass titties and shit.
I remember my dreams about 5 times a week. And if you follow me on Twitter, I tweet them as soon as I wake up. That's the only way to do it. Otherwise, you'll forget.
A cool dream I had the other week was that I was looking through binoculars at my parent's house and I saw that my dog was still alive. He was in the distance and he was playing with a wolf. It kind of put me at ease.
I've also dreamed that he talks to me. But for some reason he speaks with an English accent. Which he would never do.
Last night I had really weird dream. I had written a book called, "The Chair." It was a story of a chair that would let you see the future if you sat on it. Some people would see their future and change their lives for the better while others freak out and go crazy. When you sat on it, it was like, "WTF!!!!??" It would freak you out. And each person would pass the chair onto a friend but wouldn't tell them of it's powers.
Well I print one copy and on the inside I inscribe this, "I think you'll like this book. Please read it and pass it on to a friend when you're done. Everyone should write their review of it and leave their reviews in the book. Please return to me after everyone reads it."
I give the book to @WellreadHostess, my Twitter friend. Probably because she's into books. So the book gets passed around and when it comes back to me, everyone says it's great. And that it changed THEIR lives. Kind of like the chair. (See what happens there?) And I publish it and it becomes a best seller.
My good friend @AMK195 from Twitter reminded me that Eastbound and Down is on tonight. 10:30 on HBO. 2nd season. Here's a little sampling of Kenny Powers:
Pull up a piece of carpet kids. I have a very interesting tale I'd like to share. Come on get in here closer.
There you go.
So a few years back I was at my favorite bar in the world. It's called Tootsie's Orchid Lounge. It's in Nashville. That's a city in the State of Tennessee you know.
Now it sounds like it would be a strip bar but it's not. It's just a tiny bar that's been around for years. And every famous country singer has played there because it's right behind where the Grand Old Opry used to be.
So anyways, this place is crazy. People walk on the bar, high 5 strangers as they come in the door and just get crazy.
So Im there for about five minutes and go to walk up the steps and this drunk girl is walking down. She's holding the railing and she swings out and blocks me. She's super drunk. She looks me up, then down (elevator eyes to some), gives me this devious smile, then reaches and grabs my crotch. And gives it a squuuueeeeze.
Just as she does this her girlfriends run up and grab her and say, "I'm sorry, she's so drunk." And they shuffle her out of the bar.
I'm all, "What the??" It happened so fast I wasn't able to even do anything. Like start grinding or something. I don't know.
So a few hours pass and I meet a group of real estate people that are in town for some convention. So we're all hanging out. Just cracking up.
Two bar stools open up and I say to one of the girls that's next to me, "That's it. I'm sitting down." She says, "Me too." And sits next to me.
A while passes and as we're talking, some girl almost falls down the steps. It reminds me of the drunk girl from earlier so I say, "Oh my God, you're not going to believe what happened to me earlier!" And I proceed to tell her the story. Well, I get to the part where I say, "...and then she grabs my crouch!" and instead of a look of, "Are you kidding?" She looks me dead in the eye and says, "Like this?" and reaches over to me and grabs my crouch!
I swear this happened!
I'm so shocked but I just played it cool and kept this look on my face like nothing had just happened. But I think I did say, "Yeah, kind of like that."
Not that I would have done anything anyway but she wasn't my type. Real big and ugly. I prefer my women to be normal sized. Oh, and good looking.
A few minutes pass and her group yells over, "Kathy, come on, we're leaving." She gives them a look, pointing back at me "secretly" and mouths, "I'm staying." As if saying, "I gots myself I live one here." I don't think so sister.
Long story short I said, "I have to go to the bathroom." And I got up and walked, very quickly back to my hotel.
I love festivals and fairs but the kind I don't like is a Renaissance Faire. Like the PA one that's now going on.
And it's not that I don't like the Renaissance. I do. I just don't like bad actors approaching me and talking in a terrible Old English accent and I'm supposed to play along.
It's like when a dude in a costume - like the Bee from radio station B101 wants to high-5 me. It's a dude in a bee costume. I ain't playing along you dick.
One time I was in a supermarket and I was really hungover and I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn around and guess who it was? The fucking Bee. And he was just standing there waving at me. So I just go, "What's up?". Then turned back around. So there's been bad blood between the two of us ever since I guess.
That is all.
Oh, yeah. One more thing. Look at the dude in the picture gnawing on the turkey bone. Repulsive. And you know he's all, "Oh my King this turkey leg hath to be the most splendid tasting bird in all the land!"
I have no idea how this popped into my head but now I can't get it out.
When I was about 12, I was having a conversation with a a kid from the neighborhood and he was saying, "You've got to see a Playboy magazine. It's loaded with pictures of naked girls."
Well the little brother hears him say that and runs over to us and in the best speech impediment ever asks, "BIG GULLS OR LITTLE GULLS??"
Big Guuuuulls or little guuuuulls. Say it aloud to really grasp the beauty of it.
See. I told you.
I don't know why but I love hearing kids talk with speech impediments. I actually had one myself. I couldn't say "R's". I forget if I did a post about it or not. I'll have to look.
And on a related note our next door neighbor talks like that too. When they got back from Florida I asked her where she went. She said, "We went down to Sea Wode."
I swear I was saying "Sea Wode" for weeks.
(Note that the picture has nothing to do with the post. I saw it while searching for "Speech Impediments" and...well...I fell in love with it and I had to bring it home. Isn't it a beauty?)
In case you ever want to prepare a scotch or bourbon for me, here are the steps to take:
- Using ice (never use ice from an ice maker unless it's store bought ice) crack the ice by placing it in the palm of your hand and crack it with a tablespoon.
- Place the ice into a crystal old fashioned glass. A highball is acceptable.
- The ice will be heaped over the top of the glass. The different size cracked ice will ensure that the ice melts at the perfect "melting speed."
- Pour the scotch or bourbon almost to the top of the glass.
- Add a splash of water. Use only spring water or water that has been filtered.
- If the liquor is mid-grade, like Jack Daniels, add a bit more water.
- Never serve me lower level (peasant stock) liquor. Stir.
What the? That picture above is Ryan Seacrest. I'm not sure how old he is there but it's him.
I really hate that dude. Is there a name for his type? I've encountered them my whole life. He's not a full fledged nerd. Or a douchebag. Here are the characteristics:
- Not off the charts good looking but attractive. - Total goody-goody. - Thinks he's funny but really isn't. - Overly confident.
I swear I've met people like him and they always rub me the wrong way. There has to be a name for this type of person. Is there? If not I think one needs to be made up.
Maybe I AM weird but if you met me in real life you'd probably think I'm pretty normal. You'd think I'm really funny but nobody thinks I'm kooky. I don't think they do. But so much crazy stuff goes though my head.
ALL the time.
It's probably because of my ADHD. I was diagnosed about 6 years ago and it really did change my life. It made me feel like, "OK, I'm not stupid." Even though I consider myself successful, school was always a struggle because of major distractions. I just couldn't concentrate. My mind just constantly thinking about things. It's like someone is trying to entertain me the second something gets boring.
So here's an example*. I was walking on the Struble Trail last week and there was a lady that was running REALLY slowly. I mean slow. She had a hot dog dog on a leash. You know..the dachshund. And the dog was just trotting. Have you ever seen the tiny legs on those dogs?
And because of that weird hip disease I had a few months ago (that's now totally cured and will never come back) the doctor said to hold off on running. So I walk. Everyday. And I walk really fast. I like to keep svelte.
So I'm approaching this lady who is running really slow and it's one of these things that I know I have to speed up to pass her.
So normal people would just pass her. But in my head. I'm actually doing a play by play commentary of me passing her."
"He's approaching...he sees that the dachshund is looking back. Nervously. She slightly slows. Out of embarrassment perhaps? He quickens his pace. JESUS CHRIST HE'S GONNA DO IT!! Either he's a really fast walker or she's a really slow runner. Oh my God!. What's the point of running if you're THAT slow? The dachshund appears to have the look of shame on his face..."
Like I imagine if it were a show or a movie and the things they would say. But I'm not even TRYING to think of the stuff they would say. It just happens.
Well imagine your entire day there are thoughts going through your head like this. Every waking moment. I'm not making this up. This is how my brain has always worked. And maybe that's why I can come up with funny shit to say. But do you know what? As I'm typing this out I'm thinking, "You're fucking crazy."
OK. I had one of those can not stop laughing but am about to explode like when I wasn't allowed to laugh in church moments early yesterday morning. You know, when you're dying to totally crack up but you can't?
And I blame my Twitter friend @Trilee33. She's hysterical and seriously could be a comedy writer. Her tweets make me laugh so hard. She's of the funniest people I follow - including professional comedians.
Here's how it got to the point of me sitting at my desk and losing control and then trying as hard as I could not to laugh as my shoulders were shaking up and down:
My Tweet: I wonder if I walked into Wawa and started singing The Rose if people would gather round - some kneeling - or if they would just kick me out?
Her Tweet: Cool...I'm trying Phantom of the Opera at Stop n Shop, Foxboro. Will use a boneless chicken breast as the horrifying facial mask.
Well just the visual of using a boneless chicken breast on her face almost had me bursting into laughter. But I contained it.
My Tweet: You should start the performance by very slowly peaking into the window...the normal part of your face showing first. "Oh look... ...it's just a normal looking person looking in at us....OH MY GOD!!!!!!"
She tells me she just spit out her coffee and I tell her I can't stop laughing at the site of her slowly emerging into view with a makeshift boneless chicken breast on her face that's supposed to look like a Phantom of the Opera mask (revealing herself the way Noblet does on Strangers with Candy when he peaks into a classroom)
My Tweet: The "OH MY GOD" screams coming when they see your horribly disfigured boneless chicken face. (An old lady faints at the sight)
She tweets: I just spit out my coffee (old lady fainting)...
Now I'm dying laughing. So I have to control myself and I take a few minutes to do something else.
She then says that the boneless chicken breast has to be fastened to the face with twine. All I can think of is a mangled mess of chicken. Scary music playing as she tries to cut the eyehole out with kitchen shears but then the eyehole is too big so she has to use the twine to hold it together.
And the twine is also used to wrap around the back of the head to hold it in place. But it slips down so she has to keep it in place by wearing a hat. HAHAHA!
OK. I'm cracking up again just thinking about this.
So after this, I'm completely trying to hold it together when I see there's an email from her. I'm so about to burst that the sight of seeing that "1 new message" icon even put me back into shoulders shaking trying to conceal my laughter mode that I had to close down my email.
Well, maybe you had to be there but it was the most I've laughed in weeks.
- Gasoline - Even though it's dangerous to sniff. - Hyacinth - My favorite smell of all flowers. - Women's perfume - Not all of it. Just when a woman walks into a room and it's all, "What the? What's that smell" Then I take I gander and it's like, "Ohhhh yeah." (Does not include old lady "hiding death" perfume) - Garlic and Onions - As they saute. I do this all the time. - Leather. - Honeysuckle. - Peaches. - Bacon - cooked (not raw)
I'll probably think of more so make a note to check back.
Here's the song Pencil Thin Mustache by Jimmy Buffet. I never even knew there was a video until five minutes ago. Did you?
I've included the lyrics below so you can learn them and not sing the wrong words next time. Like you always do. Admit it.
And if you really want to know what all of the references are about in the song, click here.
I've got to tell you that I like Jimmy Buffet and I've seen him in concert but some of those Parrot Heads are complete nerds. Their own unique breed of nerd too. Not all of them, but a lot of them.
Am I wrong?
Now they make new movies in old black and white, With happy endings, where nobody fights, So if you find yourself in that nostalgic rage, Honey, jump right up and show your age.
I wish I had a pencil-thin mustache, the "Boston Blackie" kind, or a two-toned Ricky Ricardo jacket, and an autographed picture of Andy Divine.
Oh, I remember bein' buck toothed and skinny Writin' fan letters to Sky's niece Penny. Oh, I wish I had a pencil-thin mustache, then I could solve some mysteries too. Oh it's Bandstand, Disneyland, growin' up fast, Drinkin' on a fake I.D. And Rama of the jungle was everyone's Bawana, But only jazz musicians were smokin marijuana. Yeah, I wish I had a pencil-thin mustache, then I could solve some mysteries too.
But then it's flat-top, dirty bop, copin' a feel' grubbin on the living room floor; They send you off to college to try to gain a little knowledge, But all you want to do is learn how to score. Yeah, but now I'm gettin' old, don't wear underwear, I don't go to church, and I don't cut my hair; But I can go to movies and see it all there, Just the way that it use to be.
That's why I wish I had a pencil-thin mustache the "Boston Blackie" kind, or a two-toned Ricky Ricardo jacket, And an autographed picture of Andy Divine.
Oh, I could be anyone I wanted to be, Maybe suave Eerol Flynn or the Sheik of Araby. If I only had a pencil-thin mustache, then I could do some cruising too.
Yeah, Brylcream, a little dab'll do yah, Oh, I could do some cruising too.
It's basically a book of 311 things that guys shouldn't do, say or wear. Some of the things include: - wearing socks with sandals. - wearing a fanny pack. - wearing a tie with a short sleeve shirt.
Things like that. The only thing that I may be guilty of on the list is having a pair of pleated pants. I think have have a pair put I don't wear them anymore.
Wow. One thing out of 311. I guess that makes me *looks in full length mirror and turns* very, very dateable.
And on a side note, the book is written to be funny. It was in the humor section. I was surprised to see the ridiculous comments on left on Amazon (see link above).
So what things do you think a guy (or lady) should never ever wear or do or say that makes them look like a fool?
Here's a true story that happened to me about shoplifting. It happened at small convenience store - Deli Grove - that we used to walk to as kids.
I think I was in 7th grade. I will now tell the tale in the way that we probably told people who weren't there.
You're not gonna believe what fucking happened!!
We were at Deli Grove yesterday sitting on the back concrete pad, and the big dike chick comes out and is like, "OK. I know you stole the lighter." To Desmond.
He's like, "I don't know what you're talking about."
She's like, "Bullshit. I saw you steal the lighter. You want me to call the cops?"
Desmond's all, "OK fine, I stole the lighter, here have it back. What are you gonna do? "
And she's like, "I'll tell you what I'm gonna do. You guys are gonna clean up all of this trash back here. Every piece. And if you don't, I'm calling the fuzz".
So as soon as she walks away, Desmond's like, "Fuck that mountain woman, I'm not cleaning up any trash. I'm not her slave. Let's get out of here."
So we all leave. But then we're down near Bull's house and we hear this muscle car coming down Scott Drive. We're like, "What the?...."
Well it's the mountain woman chick in her Chevelle! She screeches the car and jumps out. We're all like, "BOOK!" And we all run in separate directions. Well she catches Desmond and picks him up in this bear hug from behind. LIKE A BIGFOOT WOULD. It's like she had super human strength!
His little boots are trying to kick her and his face is turning all red and everything. We're hiding behind one the pine tree watching the whole thing. He's trying to yell, "GET OFF OF ME!" But his face is all red and everything. Like he can't breath!
She finally drops him and he gets up. After she pulls away he gives her the finger. But she didn't see it. She banned him from the store FOR LIFE. He was trying not to cry but...well he was.
It's true, when I was growing up we were a tissue family.
I guess my parents still are. Maybe it's normal with 5 kids and most of them have allergies but I'm not kidding when I say that if you go to my parents house you will find at least one box of tissues in every room.
A box in the small storage drawer by the pool, in both cars...everywhere really.
And if you sneeze?, "Do you want a tissue? Here have a tissue. Just blow your nose. You don't need to blow your nose? What? Then here, put it in your pocket for later. Go ahead. You might need it later."
Tissue people.
My parents are also ice people. There's a huge concern that "WHAT IF WE RUN OUT OF ICE???"
So ice is stockpiled. Just in case. Ice maker in fridge is always full. Then there are six ice trays always full in the upstairs fridge PLUS a bag of ice waiting. And in case someone robs my parents of their precious ice in the middle of the night?...No worries. Because (Shhhhh - don't tell anyone) there's a secret stash in the basement fridge with 6 more full ice trays and an extra bag waiting.
Ice people.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Kind of celebrating here because of several job offers that came in to me. One of which I will be taking.
Now I'd like you...the reader (and my fwend) to celebrate with me. Don't be embarrassed. Fill a plastic glass with Mountain Dew and PRETEND it's champagne in a fine, cut crystal. I won't judge you.
Over the past few months I've noticed a cleft in my chin. A cleft chin if you will.
The weird thing is that I've never noticed it. It's not huge like that ridiculous hole that John Travolta has in his chin*. It's barely noticeable.
In fact, if you saw me and looked at my chin you'd be all, "Where is it? Is it there? Is it there? Is that it?
The only way I know I have it is because when I shave in a downward stroke, I notice that I can't get into the tiny cleft with the razor so I have to shave it sideways to get a totally smooth shave. And I've never had to do this so it is indeed a new development on my face.
Maybe it's because I lost 15 pounds. Or maybe it's because I'm getting closer to dying and my face is starting to turn into a skeleton. I'm not sure.
*Whenever I see Travolta's face I picture a teensy tiny Travolta emerging from his cleft..."Hey, Mr Kotter!"
Those who read my blog know that I live in West Chester, PA. An affluent Chester County area South of Philadelphia. I mention the town often to shamelessly get visitors to my blog.
Well, if you're a pop culture buff you may have read recently that Butch Patrick aka Eddie Munster is moving to West Chester, PA as seen here.
And here's the kicker. He's moving into....are you ready for this?....into MY SISTER'S NEIGHBORHOOD!!
I'm not going to tell you where exactly the neighborhood is but it's a fact that he's moving there. And no, it's not a trailer park. Not all 60's and 70's TV stars are down and out. Or marry down and out people. These are million dollar homes.
It really doesn't matter. What matters is that me, not you, will probably be meeting Eddie Munster soon. I can't wait to show him my Herman Munster imitation: "Uh...Lilly, Lilly. NO NO NO NO" (as I stomp and pieces of the ceiling fall down).
I've been getting lazy keeping up with this here famous blog. So here's a post about various driving things. I'll do it in bullet point form. But I'm only going to take 3 minutes to write it so I'm warning you - it's probably going to be crappy.
Please feel free to ask questions and I will clarify anything you're interested in.
OR maybe elaborate in a post (And name the post after YOU)
- I'm an expert knee driver. - I wrecked a car when I was 17. A red Pinto. I rolled it on Route 52 in Chester County. - I use to "do it" all the time in cars. (Do you know what "do it means?) If you don't know, ask your parents. - One time I filled the oil in my car up to "the top" because I didn't know better. - Once a deer jumped over the hood of my car at 80 miles per hour. - One time I was racing a guy on 95 and his hood blew open. - My biggest regret about accidents that happened and I wasn't there was in high school when my friends came around a corner and hit some kid's car off of a cliff. (Nobody was hurt). - I eat entire meals in my car while driving. I use an atlas as my tray. - The cars I've owned are: Renault Lecar, Hyndai Excel, Nissan Sentra, Toyota Camry and Nissan Maxima.
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