Pack Your Suitcase And Pretend You've Been Out Of Your Town.

None of you have traveled. I have though*. So below is a list of places I’ve been to. I didn’t include ALL the places – especially local – because I don’t have all day here. You know?

And I didn’t cheat and include cities I’ve driven through. And either should you. Once you finally travel somewhere.

Philadelphia, PA
New York, NY
Danbury, CT
Stamford, CT
Rome, NY
Ocean City/Sea Isle NJ and more
Atlantic City, NJ
Wilmington, DE

Washington, DC
Baltimore, MA
Ocean City, MA
Nags Head, NC
Duck, NC
Virgina Beach, VA

Nashville, TN
Memphis, TN
Louisville, KY
Atlanta, GA
Orlando, FL

Chicago, Ill
Muskegon, MI
Minneapolis, MN
Boise, ID

Dallas, TX
Austin, TX
Corpus Christi, TX
San Antonio, TX
Seattle, WA
Las Vegas, NV
Reno, NV
San Diego, CA
Los Angeles, CA
Burbank, CA
Long Beach, CA

North America (not US)
Piedras Negras, Mexico

Overseas
Stratford-Upon-Avon UK
Oxford, UK
Frankfurt Germany
Milan, Italy
Hong Kong
Xiamen, China
Shenzen, China
Guangzhou, China

*The main reason for this post is for when I lose my memory and I want to remember where I've been. And for historians.

Huh? Crazy Thing A Little Black Kid Asked Me Once. Downingtown.

Here's a crazy thing that I was once asked that I still can't figure out.

I guess I was about 23 and at my older sister's for Easter. They had our family over, then after we ate some of the neighbors from the complex came in for drinks.

So I'm standing on their small patio with a few people just sipping my drink and chatting.

Then one of the neighbor's kids - a little black boy about 5 - made his way toward me, stood there for a minute, looked up at me and asked, "Are you a boy or a girl?"

I just stood there like, "WTF?"

"Uh...I'm a boy."

He just said, "Oh OK." Then turned and walked inside.

Everyone just cracked up. I have no idea why he thought this. I was wearing a suit for God's sake. I don't have a high voice. No idea other than my younger sister and I kind of look the same and maybe he saw her inside and got confused. Or maybe he thinks all crackers look the same.

Or maybe he was just a dumb kid. I don't know.

Editor's Note: I was asked the identical question when I was 5. But back then I had huge curls. Oh yeah. And I kind of looked like a girl.

Do You Want To Know What I Look LIke? Lookalikes.

I love finding lookalikes for people I know. The best is when I find a lookalike and there IS a resemblance but it’s a total insult.

My friend Flare and I have always cracked up when we’d see lookalikes of each other. We’d be at Exton Mall back in the day and if he saw a lookalike of me he would go up to the person, look really confused and look back and forth at me and the lookalike and say, “Wait….Zibbs, is this you…or is…what the…wait a minute...” The person would have no idea and would just look all nervous and walk faster to get away.

Then when I’d point out a lookalike of Flare, he would actually go up to the person, and put his hands up mime style or begin to comb his hair. Then he would say, “Oh my God I’m sorry, I thought this was a mirror.”

I even have a scrapbook I started years ago called, “The lookalike file.” When I see a lookalike of someone I know I clip it and put it in the old lookalike file. The best is when the reaction to a lookalike is cracking up then the person says, “Oh my God you’re mean.” Whatcha gonna do?

Well on the subject of lookalikes, here are some people I’ve been told I look like:

Errol Flynn – My aunts used to tell me that all the time. I’ll take that though. Good looking chap.


Eminen – This one is complete bull. Someone from Twitter said I look like him. I think it’s because of how my hair looked one day.


The adult Chistopher Night aka Peter Brady – Some chick told me this recently. She did say, “But I mean that in a good way. He’s a good looking man.” So I got that.


Dan Marino – Some photographer at a photo shoot told me this once. He was like, “You look just like him.” First and last time I heard that. I guess I do kind of see it on this one.


Weird Al – This was because of my cheesy mustache in college. Total insult.


Napoleon Dynamite – My oldest sister said “that’s you in 8th grade.” Hmm. Well I do think I had a suit like that. Except I never danced with a girl in 8th grade at a dance. I was too busy holding the wall up.


And someone recently said a combo of The Hoff and Anthony Bourdain. Kind of insulted by the Anthony Bourdain since he's way older but whatever.

So who have you been told you look like? Come on…don’t be

Super Embarrassing Story. Disney and Ukrainian Lady.

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And Then You Got The Frito Bandito. Commercial

I was gonna post the Big Fig Newton commercial but embedding was disabled. Jerks.

So you'll have to settle for the Frito Bandito commercial. Anyone remember this? And I was the proud owner of the Frito Bandito eraser. So there's that.

This One Time At Gillian's In Ocean City. Scrambler.

This may sound mean but I’m stating the facts.

Years ago while vacationing with the family in Ocean City New Jersey we went up to Gillians Wonderland Pier with the kids. Gillians is on the boardwalk and has rides for the tots.

We’d usually get our happy hour in, then fill up a water bottle with booze to sip on during the time we had to spend at Gillians. Well, I would bring the booze water bottle but the others were babies so they didn’t. Well, I think my friend Debbie later did. I forget.

Actually that part of the story doesn’t even matter. Here’s what does. We’re standing at the “Scrambler” - you know, that ride where you sit and it looks like a giant spider? And it spins and stretches it’s long legs?

So I’m standing next to the ride operator and every so often when one of the cars swings over for the split second near us I could hear someone saying, “Stop the ride.”

Then it would go away. Then, “I gotta get off!”

Then it was gone.

Well it turns out that there was a retarded man in one of the cars that obviously wanted to get off. And the ride operator - a eighteen year old kid - was just looking at him. And kind of smiling. In a demented way. As if saying, “You can ask me to stop the ride as many times as you want Pal but it ain’t happening. Because I’m having too much fun torturing you.” It was so obvious he heard the dude screaming to stop the ride.

It’s the kind of thing where somebody should have stepped in but…you know… the management office was all the way back there and all so….

And here’s what’s even funnier, I look on the other side of the operator and the retarded man’s family is leaning up against the gate. And they’re laughing. Hysterically. I mean roaring with laughter.

The car would approach, “STOP THE RIDE!”

And a family member would yell, “Nope! You wanted to go on it!”

This went on for a good five minutes or so. There’s no real ending to the story. He didn’t throw up or anything but I just saw a picture of a scrambler and remembered the story. It’s pretty wrong don’t you think? Funny. But wrong.

Paaaartayyy!! Crazy Weekend Highlights At Penn State.

I usually hate walking into a bar with friends when it’s wall to wall 21 year olds. We usually just turn around because you feel like an old fart*. Usually …..

The exception was this past weekend. I went up to Penn State with a few friends to see a band. The band we were supposed to see was on Saturday at 9:30 so we thought we’d go into town and “walk around, maybe see if there’s a Penn State sporting event happening so we ‘stay out of trouble during the day’”, as Bill said. Well THAT didn’t happen.

As we drive into town we see hundreds and hundreds of college kids walking around wearing green. It turns out there’s an event called “State Patrick’s Day” and it’s a HUGE all day party.

So we park our car near the fraternity that my two friends went to and decide to go inside. We walk in the door – this is at 12:30 in the afternoon - and there are literally 200 drunk college kids in the frat house. DJ blaring music. People dancing on tables. A dude passed out drunk on the couch. Another dude walked past me, tripped up the steps and fell into the wall head first.


The dude in the hat on the table is my main man

Basically. It’s insane. It’s what you’d expect at 2 AM on New Year’s but it’s barely past noon.

Now here’s where it gets really nuts. We of course stand out like sore thumbs because we’re not wearing green. AND we’re the age of their Dad’s. Or their really, really, really, really older brothers. So they start coming up to us and ask who we are. My friend’s says, “Alumni.” As soon as they say that everyone goes crazy, “What? You are? Let’s parttttyy!” And we basically become celebrities. Everyone wants to party with us. People randomly come up to meet us. We’re laughing our asses off at the absurdity of what’s happening. The entire time laughing and saying, “Is this really happening?”

We roam upstairs and there are people in every room. We get high fives from everyone as we walk own the hall. We’re handed random bottles to drink from as we pass. We walk into an upstairs game room. 30 heads look at us in shock. Bill says loudly, “Don’t worry, we’re not cops. We’re alumni.” The crowd cheers.

I could go on and on about some of the crazy things but it would make for a really long post. (Plus I likes to keep private). Two highlights were that four lovely ladies came up to us and said, “Can we party with you?”

“Well of course you can my dears.” And we proceeded to not only party….but Par-TAY** Here they are***:



The other really crazy thing was that two curvy coeds (sounds hot huh? Trust me…it was) pulled me out on the dance floor to shake it. Being a good sport I went out to shake my groove thang. And we’re dancing. Then they’re dancing around me. Slinking really. Then they both start bending over and start GRINDING on me. Just as I’m about to grab the hips of the one I remember what my one friend said earlier, “Could you imagine if the cops raided this place and the first thing they see is us? With all these underage kids?” Reality sets in and I exit the dance floor. Seconds before I was violated.

Well that’s all I’ll get into here but it was a craaaazy weekend. And I honestly came THIS close to getting up on the main dance table but thought, what if I slip off and break a hip? Buzzkill.

* Plus they’re not mature enough to really grasp my sophisticated ways.
** Whatever THAT means.
*** God Dyyyyyyaaaaaaammmmn!!

The Time I Was Trying To Be Smooth But Something Went Terribly Wrong. Sunglasses.

I was just telling a coworker a story that happened years ago but I had forgotten.

Our regular receptionist at work was out for a few weeks so they brought a temp in to take her place. She was an older lady. But after about a week I came in back from lunch and as I’m pulling the door open I see a really hot girl sitting at the receptionist desk. Ooh. Who is this fine specimen?

So of course I slowly take off my sunglasses and saunter by the desk. A little extra shake of the ass. I deepen my voice a bit and say, “ How you doing? You’re new here?” (Shut up. That’s all I could think of on short notice. Plus it was hot out.)

“Yeah. Well I’m just filling in. I’m not sure how many days I’ll be here.”

“OK. Well welcome to (the name of my company inserted here). I’m Dr Zibbs.”

“Well nice to meet you Dr Zibbs. I’m Cindy.”

“OK Cindy, well I’ll see you later.”

I then walk down the hall toward my desk. Thinking I’m all smooth. And as I’m walking there’s something in my peripheral vision on my right side. What is that? I reach up and there’s a black rubber oval on the side of my face – below my eye. What the F???

When I took my sunglasses off the rubber piece of my sunglasses that goes against your nose came off of the sunglasses and was stuck on my face. AND IT WAS THERE THE WHOLE TIME!

I pictured this happening later, “Cindy did you see Dr Zibbs walk by here?”

“Dr Zibbs? Who is…Oh Dr Zibbs. The guy with the huge mole on the side of his nose? No I haven't seen him.”

Some OCD Things I Do. But Not As Bad As You Guys.

Do any of you nutjobs have OCD? I don’t but there are a few specific things that I’m kind of OCD about. Here they are:

- When I’m eating cheese and crackers* and I’m getting close to the end I need to make sure that there are no crackers left and no cheese left. You know what I mean – so I don’t get stuck eating a piece of cheese or a cracker by itself. So I have to start doubling up the cheese or breaking crackers in half as I get closer.

- I always have a magazine or book in my car on the front driver seat. I've noticed it can never be upside down.

- I’m obsessed with keeping my Droid 100% charged.

- I have to turn off lights when I’m not in a certain room in the house.

- Pillows have to be 100% perfectly positioned on the couch or I can’t concentrate.

OK weirdos. Let’s hear it. What are your crazy OCD things? And has anyone officially been diagnosed with it?

*cracker of choice is usually the wheat thin or the Trisquit

The Time I Practiced Asking A Girl Out. Busted!

Believe it or not, in my early years unless I was around my friends I was pretty shy. So the idea of asking a girl out was pretty terrifying until I was in about tenth grade or so. I’m not sure what happened but I slowly became un-shy.

Well in about ninth grade and I was going to ask a girl to a dance. Instead confidently approaching her in the hall at school I decided to do the cowardly thing and call her on the phone. This way, if I fainted halfway through she’d just think something was wrong with the phone. Which was possible and probably would hold up in court.

Instead of just picking up the phone and calling her, I decided the best thing to do was practice. So I went down to our basement sat at my Dad’s desk (he had an office down there), put my finger on the button thing… what’s that called? You know…the hanger up button….so you don’t get the dial tone? You know what I mean. I put my finger on that thing and started rehearsing:

“Hello Patty? This is Dr Zibbs here. And the reason I was calling was…”

No

(deeper voice) “Patty. What’s going on? It’s Dr Zibbs and the reason for my call is…”

No. I swear I tried it ten different ways. And I tried different poses too. Nothing felt right.

“Hello Patty, It’s Dr Zibbs. And I was just wondering if you wanted to go to the dance with me.”

What the hell was that? “Just wondering?” Like I was looking out the window at clouds and the thought popped into my head, “You know..I’m just curious as to whether or not Patty would like to go to the dance with me? Hmmm. I wonder. Maybe I’ll just give her a call and ask her. It’s the only way to find out. You know, to really get to the bottom of this random thought that just now popped into my head.”

“Hello Patty. It’s Dr Zibbs. From school. And I was just wondering if…”

Just then I hear, “WHAT. ARE. YOU. DOING?” And I look up and my oldest sister is standing there with her mouth opened in amazement. The expression on her face was the look you’d have if you opened a suitcase and it was loaded with cash.

I remember jumping out of my seat from being startled and was like, "What?..I thought that…” And just stood there frozen for a second. Then, “GET OUT OF HERE!”

For the next week all I heard from my sister was, “Yes I was just wondering if…I was just wondering if…”

How embarrassing. And in case you want to know. Patty said no. She claimed she had to work at the Tasty Freeze*. Yeah right.

*For the locals, the Tasty Freeze used to be located where the Wawa is on Route 100 and Greenhill Road.

A Vegas Story From A Follower. Goodship Lollipop.

After I posted yesterday’s Vegas story a Twitter friend emailed me saying she also had a “couldn’t stop cracking up in Vegas” story. She said she laughed so hard that she wet her pants. Of course I asked her to email me the story. She wants to remain anonymous* (probably because of the shame) but here it is. Tis a good one:

We were up all night partying and ended up in the casino restaurant where all the old people were having breakfast.

Somehow or another I convinced my bff to walk over and do the Goodship Lollipop dance in front of this older couple who were innocently eating breakfast.

She did it (no surprise, she's nuts) and the old guy started yelling at her to get away from them...but that wasn't gonna happen because she knew I was gonna wet my pants.

She continued dancing doing the arms and everything and he took a swipe at her with his butter knife. That's when I had to leave the scene. She followed me to the elevator yelling at me that she got stabbed because of me and I literally had my legs crossed cuz it was coming.

She actually had a big butter swipe on the front of her pants.

We fall out of the elevator and she left me in the corridor and as she backed out, she shut the big double doors majestically and bowed out with a "aaaaaaaand goodnight" and it was over. Full on peed in my pants.

Then we get back to the room, I shower (she watched....just kidding!) and when I came out hotel security was in our room...that's a whole different hilarious story...oh Vegas.

*If she changes her mind she can always out herself in the comments section.

The Time I Didn't Eat Two Double Cheeseburgers In Vegas.

So I was talking to a friend yesterday about the time we were in Vegas a few years ago and something that made me laugh harder than I think I’ve ever laughed. It may be one of those “had to be there” stories but here it is anyway:

It was about midnight and it was the last night of the trip. He was all liquored up and was going to bed. I was like, “F that noise. I’m going dancing.”

So the next morning we check out and leave our bags with the concierge so we could eat breakfast. We return to get out bags. My friend says, “Do you have the ticket for the bags?” I reach in my pocket which is full of crumpled up money and various receipts. I hand him what I think is the bag ticket.

FRIEND: (examines receipt with interest then bursts into laughter). You ate TWO McDonalds double cheeseburgers at 4:33 AM??? WHAT THE HELL??

ME: WHAT?? No I didn’t! (I start laughing because I know I would never eat even one McDs double cheeseburger. Let alone two)

FRIEND: It says it right here! Two double cheeseburgers at 4:33! HAHA!!

ME: (Now I’m hysterical because I’m also now remembering the fog I was in as I went to McDonalds in one of the casinos) I must have picked up the wrong receipt!

FRIEND: (Thinks I’m lying about it or I just forget that I really ate two double cheeseburgers) No you didn’t you were so drunk that you ate the two burgers and you just forget!! At 4:33!

At this point we’re literally doubled over laughing. And I’m close to pissing my pants (like you chicks do when you’re cracking up). Then I actually do remember that it was a confusing late night ordering scene with drunk people and the stupid staff that was serving the food.

ME: Wait! (Barely getting one word out at a time) I remember now. (Hahaha) There was a bunch of receipts on the counter and I think I picked up the wrong one.

FRIEND: (Thinks I’m lying) YEAH RIGHT!!! HAHAHA!!!

ME: I swear! Why would I eat two double cheeseburgers? I would never do that!

FRIEND: But you did. Here’s the proof! (holds up the receipt)

ME: HAHAHAHA!! IT’S NOT MINE! MAYBE SOMEONE PLANTED IT ON ME!!

And we continued to hysterically laugh. Practically screaming as people looked at us like we were crazy.

OK. Maybe you had to be there. But if the scene was acted out in a movie you would be cracking up.

Here Are Some Random Notes From A Chorus Concert Last Night. Middle School.

Here are various notes from the 8th grade chorus concert I had to attend last night. My daughter is in the chorus:

- I sat in the back so I was able to spend my time watching people. Like a bird. On it’s perch. Watching. I’ve discovered if I’m bored to tears but able to watch people I can make things bearable.

- When all the kids walked to the stage I saw my daughter’s friend. She’s pretty funny. I gave her the nonverbal look like a was surprised. Like, “What? What are you doing here? This is preposterous!” She tilted her head sideways, nodded and winked and gave me the “gun shoot” pointed finger. Cracked me up.

- The kid I saw last year with the magnificent jew-fro was singing again. He’s so big. He looks like he could play college football and then he tops off his huge frame with this big ass fro. And to make it better, there was a teensy tiny kid standing in front of him with what looked liked a glued on fake hairpiece. The juxtaposition was glorious. (Look at me using big words).

- The chorus director dude was totally overdoing it with his hand conducting moves. Couldn’t tell if he really thought what he was doing was helping the kids to sing or if he was showboating.

- Some Indian lady sat next to me and reeked of perfume. Is that really necessary? I swear I could taste it.

- I cracked myself up by imagining that right as they were finishing singing the Beatles song, “Here Comes The Sun” if I had a speaker rigged up then from off stage in a super baritone voice I sung, “HERE COMES THE SUN….YEAHHH!” And everyone would be looking around like, “What the hell?” Some parents would have shocked looks on their faces and shaking their heads and saying, “Who would DO that? They ruined it! The whole thing is ruined now! We even brought Nana here. And she's SICK!”

Then the rest of the concert I was thinking of things that I could at the end of every song to ruin it. Like I'd come swinging in from the side and sing the last line. Or pull off a fake rubber mask like I was one of the kids after a song ended. Then run away.

Janitors would be instructed to catch me. They'd fail.

Would be a big ole' scandal. Probably one of those stories that gets passed down to new kids every year. Oh and the cover up? Don't even start.

Man. I should have done it.

Listen To What This One Idiot Said About His Wedding. Tux Shoes.

So here’s the conversation I heard the other day between two guys. It looks like both were contractors. The younger one was about 25 and the older one was about 40.

Older Guy: So how’s the wedding stuff going?

Young Guy: Well we got into dis big ass fight. I told her: "I AM NOT WEARING DRESS SHOES TO DA WEDDING!"

Older Guy: Really?

Young Guy: No. I told her, “I hate dress shoes. I hate da way dey look. I hate da way dey feel and I’m not wearing em'. I’m wearing sneakers.” Dat's my ONE thing.

Older Guy: What did she say?

Young Guy: She didn’t believe me. Den dis morning she says, “Don’t forget that we see da video guy tonight.” I was like, “I’m on strike. Until you know dat I’m not wearing dress shoes I’m on strike.” (All proud and shit): I. AM. ON. STRIKE!

Oh come on now! What idiot wears sneakers with a tux? Can you imagine what type of fool this guy is going to look like?

Thoughts?

This Cee Lo Green Song Is So Catchy. And GREAT video!

Man is this song F U by Cee Lo Green catchy. And it's a great video too. Does anyone else love it?

Go ahead. Watch it and let me know what you think.

Jimi Hendrix. Exton Sam Goody. Putting On The Gorilla Suit

My Dad is the type of guy that doesn’t take shit from anyone. Like if you’re standing in a long line at a store and there’s only one register open, and everyone is looking at each other like, “this is ridiculous”… he’s the type that walks to the front of the line and says, “Excuse me. But I’ve standing in line for five minutes. I’m going to need you to stop what you’re doing, call your manager and get another person on a register.”

And everyone is all, "I wish I had the balls to do that." Or if someone butts in line? Yeah right buddy. My Dad is the one that will tell you to get to the back.

So flashback to when my brother was in 5th grade. My brother buys a Jimi Hendrix book. So my Dad is flipping through the book and sees a plaster cast of Jimi Hendrix’s junk in it. He’s like, “What the hell is this? You’re not going to have this book!” To my brother. “You’re going to bring it back.”

“But I don’t have a receipt.”

“Then I’LL bring it back!

“Dad, they won’t take it back without a receipt.”

“Oh they’ll take it back alright.”. My Dad takes the book and drives to the record store. Sam Goody I believe it was. Exton Mall.

Dad gets into the store and says to cashier, “I’d like to return this book but I don’t have a receipt.”

“Sorry sir, I can’t exchange it if you don’t have a receipt.” The lady says.

“Do you have kids?”

“Uh..yes?”

“Well let me ask you this: turn to page 112. Would you want your 5th grader looking at that?

The woman looks at the picture, turns beat red and opens the register.

Mission accomplished.

*Author's note: This is what my Dad called, "Putting on the gorilla suit ."

Kickass Art. Rhino Gets What's Coming To Him. Finally

Of all the art that shows a rhino getting kicked in the nuts by a dude on guitar with a big ass explosion in the back.... this one has to be my favorite.

Behold it's glory!



Thanks to my Twitter friend @Amk195 for bringing it to my attention. Life now has meaning.

Various Nicknames I've Given. Llammas

I’m a giver of nicknames. And nicknames that have stuck. Even if the person doesn’t know they’ve got a nickname. Here are a few nicknames and their meaning:

Flare – for my friend that would get pissed off all the time and his nostrils would Flare.

Glamour Boy – For my friend. At senior week he was trying to impress a girl so he got up earlier to go jogging with her. He was wearing a red shirt and red shorts and he had chapstick on his lips that made them look shiny. I’m like, “Look at you. You’re like a Glamour Boy.”

Compressor Head – this chick in college that looked like her face was smooshed in a vice-like compressor machine.

Steam Box – This dude in college that was so skinny and scrawny that he looked like a guy in the cartoons that used to be really fat but then goes into one of those steam boxes that they had at gyms in the 30’s. He stays in too long and becomes super skinny.

Llamma – a friend of mine that I thought looked like a llama because he had a long neck. And whenever I would say llama I would follow it by saying, “The priiiiiide of Peru.”

Grandpa – My friend Steve (comments on this blog under CrotchPains) because I think he used to dress like a Grandpa.

I swear there are a hundred more. If I were near my yearbooks I could rattle some more off but I’m not.

But on another nickname related note there was a kid in Junior High that gave himself the nickname ‘Wizard”. Pretty lame when you do that. We knew that because he had a jean jacket and drawn in pen on the back was the picture of a wizard hat and it said, “Wizard.” Or maybe it was the whole body of a wizard. I forget.

He thought he was badass but he wasn’t.

My friend Flare taunted him all the way through high school when his wizard stage was supposed to be long gone. He’d see him in the hall and say, “Hey everyone. It’s Wizard! Are you gonna cast any spells wizard.”

Wizard would just look at Flare and flip him the bird.

Moral: Never nickname yourself Wizard.

The Ritual I Have When It Comes To Baths.

If you follow me on Twitter you know that I enjoy the manly habit of taking baths. Here’s my ritual:

Boil two large pots of water. This way, the bath starts out super hot and you don’t run out of hot water as you drain the warm and add more hot water during the bathing event.

Put a beer in the freezer for about 20 minutes. This will ensure that it stays cold as it sits on the side of the tub. Make a bourbon or scotch using as much cracked ice as will fit in a glass.

Prepare some snacks. Sometimes I’ll make a small plate of cheese, almonds and hot pepper slices. I bring a toothpick in so I can stab the cheese and pepper slices. But make sure to eat the cheese first because it will start to melt from the steam in your bathroom.

Get reading material. I like to get a book and a few magazines. It’s nice to have choices.

Pen and paper. In case I “think of anything I need to write down.” Like a tweet or a blog post idea. Or an invention.

Droid. IMPORTANT: Do NOT hold over the tub. I dropped mine in the first week I had it and ruined it. You will need the droid so you don’t miss any important mentions of you on Twitter.

As I stated at the beginning, as the water goes from hot to warm, drain a bit of the water out and add more hot water. Swirl it around.

Things that are NOT part of my bath ritual: Lighting candles. Wrapping my hair up in a towel. Using bath beads. Although I did receive “lavender bath salts” for Xmas as a gift but I’m not sure I’ll use them because my Twitter friend @MrsMushiMushi told me a guy friend of hers used them and they somehow “burned his nuts.” Although she did go on to say that he only had one nut so maybe he already had some issues. In the nut area.

How I Used To Annoy My Siblings. Dancing.

I’m always amazed at how little my two kids argue because when I was growing up I used to torture my siblings.

There were five of us. I have 2 older sisters and a younger sister and brother. One of my standard tortures was to dance in front of the TV. But I'd actually wait until a pivotal moment in the show. Then I would walk toward the TV slowly and pounce in front.

Let the dancing begin.

“Move!!” They’d yell.

“Yeah right. I haven’t performed this yet..” Then I’d break into my dancing. I usually found that I could annoy them the most if I had a shit ass grin on my face and zombie eyes. The dance would always start out as tap dancing, then I’d throw in a bit of ballet to mix things up. Once the “Get out of the way!” screams got louder and I knew that I had limited time I’d do my finale which was that tap dancing move where you do the thing where you look like your running (while leaning forward) while alternating your straight arms forward then back. (What’s that move called?)

The other finale move was the one where you swing your arms in wide circles while doing crazy tap dancing with your feet. I really should know the names of these moves since I've been performing them all these years.

Oh and I don’t want to forget my other famous dance. The Tissue Dance. This is another dance - all self taught mind you - that I created that uses tissues as props. It’s a ballet/interpretive dance where my body actually becomes one with the tissues.

It’s really hard to explain in words. I’ll just have to show you when I see you.

McDonalds Story That You Won't Believe. West Chester.

I don’t think I’ve ever been in a McDonald’s that has as a staff that even remotely resembles the McDonald’s you see on the commercials. I mean, at least the commercials these days have a diversified staff but they're still smiling. And look clean.

But the staffing has reached an all time low. At least at the West Chester (High Street) McDonald’s. I didn’t witness this first hand but my son told me and I can’t stop laughing about it. Get ready for this...

He said there’s an employee – an order taker – that’s about 17 or 18. He wears the standard McD’s uniform but his hat is turned sideways and his pants hang really low. You know, rapper style.

So my son approaches the counter and waits. The dude looks at him then ignores him. He looks back at my son and looks away again. He finally slowly struts over to my son - all pissed off - and softly and really annoyed mutters, “So what the fuck do you want?’

HAHAHA!! I swear I made my son imitate it like five times. "So what the fuck do you want?" I was going to go there to experience it myself but my son thinks he quit. Or was fired.

(And look at that scary Ronald in the picture).

Getting Busted Having Sex. Ostriches. Crazy Ass Husband.

I wonder if some dude was ever having sex with a woman. And the husband came home.

And he's totally nude. Like TOTALLY. And he doesn't want the husband to see his junk so he covers it with his two hands. But the husbands comes at him to attack him and the guy has to fend him off so he just starts kicking him. (Remember, his hands are covering his junk).

And he's not karate style kicking him because the guy has no karate training. Sure, he's seen some Jackie Chan movies but it's not going to help in this situation. So he just kicks him the way an ostrich would kick. Like jumping up in the air and doing single kicks. A very goofy showing.

"Waaaa! Waaaa!" Screaming - almost birdlike as he kicks.

The husband isn't a great fighter so he's really just slap fighting the guy. Kinda sad if you think about it.

Then the guy - with one of his goofy ostrich-like kicks - steps into the bedroom trashcan. Yeah. I know. He runs down the hall squawking in his birdish screams and limping with the trashcan caught on his foot.

The husbands pursues him with a golf club.

...AND....CUT!

A List of Various Food Stuff You Should Know. Oysters.

“What are Dr Zibb’s thoughts on food?” is a constant question I get when I open letters from the TBY mailbag. Well I’ve made a list for you below.

Print out the list and tape it to your fridge. Memorize it over the next few weeks in case I decide to pop in for a meal.

I’ll probably appear at your kitchen window when you’re doing the dishes. But not in a friendly way like on a sitcom. I’ll make a more memorable showing by waiting until it’s dark, and you’ll look out thinking, “Is…is there something out there?” It’ll be hard to see because of the way the lights in your kitchen make it hard to see outside. When you cautiously put your face on the window I’ll suddenly push my face and the knife I’m wielding to the window while banging on it and scream, “I’M GOING TO KILL YOUUUU!!”

Once you change your underwear, let me into your home and prepare me some of my favorite foods. Here’s the list:

Unusual food I’ve eaten: foie gras, alligator and boar.

Foods I hate: beets, brussel sprouts. But I wish I liked brussel sprouts.

Favorite Sandwiches: Roast Pork from Dinics (Philly) and Luigi and Giovanni’s (Newtown Square, PA), hot roast beef sandwich from Nick’s original roast beef (Philly and Springfield, PA), Corn Beef or Pastrami sandwich from 2nd Avenue Deli (NYC)

Some more foods I love: Gumbo, mac and cheese with lobster, Eggs Benedict, gulf shrimp but it has to be super fresh. Why is it so hard to find great shrimp anymore?

Favorite cut of meat: Rib Eye.

Foods I like but then as I’m eating it sometimes I think, “Do I really like this?”: Oysters and asparagus.

Favorite dessert: Anything with chocolate and peanut butter. Like a choc and PB pie.

Best Meal I’ve ever had: (Believe it or not it was local) Blackened Tuna with crawfish au gratin on top at the High Street Café. It was a special but I used to call after that and get it as takeout.

Foods that I wish I could find in Chester County but can’t: Great Pizza, Great Bagels.

Snacky foods I love: Cashews and feta stuffed olives. And baked brie.

Food I want to learn more about. And by learn I mean eat: Cheeses and cured meats.

A Special Announcement Concerning A New Blog. Trina.

Let's face it. Blogging isn't what it used to be. What I mean is that the interaction with people is not what it used to me. Twitter is really where it's at for that.

And back in the day I used to promote blogs if I really liked them. Long time readers know this.

Well guess what? My favorite person on Twitter that cracks me up daily just started a blog. I kind of encouraged her to do it. I've done that to a few people that I think are really funny or interesting.

Her name is Trina. You may know her from this blog post the other week. Or this blog post about the Phantom of the Opera mask.

Well, the bottom line is that she cracks me up everyday. So follow her blog and tell her Zibbs sent you. Her blog is: trinalikeswine.blogspot.com . Go ahead. Give it a click!

Dirty Deeds. And Backdoor Man Question. ACDC.

During a long walk this morning I listened to the ACDC albums Back In Black and Dirty Deeds.

Well the one lyric in Dirty Deeds always bothered me. Here it is:

You got a lady and you want her gone
But you ain't got the guts
She keeps naggin' at you night 'n' day
Enough to drive you nuts
Pick up the phone, leave her alone
It's time you made a stand
For a fee, I'm happy to be
Your back door man

So is he saying that he's going to come and have anal sex with her or is a backdoor man also a hitman? I looked online for three minutes and found no reference to a backdoor man being a hitman. And why doesn't he just dump her? I don't get it.

Here's a live version of the song:

Lets Dance To Earth Wind And Fire! Let's Groove. Grinding.

OK. This video is so bad but I would so grind to you on this Earth, Wind and Fire classic.

Come on. Get up and pretend we're dancing...that's it. Shake it! There you go.

You're doing it! ...OK. Good. Get up against the couch in a submissive position...Mmm Hmm. That's it.. Here I come. *I come grooving in from the side*

- end scene -

Roller Derby Coming To Chester County! Caln Roller Rink.

Breaking News! Roller Derby is coming to the Chester County at the Caln Roller Rink.

Tis true. Take a look at the link here.

Scholars of this blog know that as a young skater I've been to the Caln Roller Rink but I was a Spinning Wheels Roller Rink man myself. Click here to see a post I wrote about it. See?.. I ain't lyin'.

And I'm extra excited because I know a few local gals that are actually trying out for the team. I'm going to see if I can get some exclusive inside info on the progress and some pictures.

Maybe I can convince WCLinda to try out. Hmmmmm.

There's also a Facebook page but I'm not going to link to it because I'm afraid the link will lead to my Facebook page. So find it yourself.

Stupid Invention My College Roommate Came Up With. Toothpicks.

One of my roommates in college was an idiot. I come into the room one day and he’s like, “Can I show you something?”

I’m like, “Yeah OK.” I could tell he was excited.

He walks over to his desk and comes back with a folder. “I’ve got an idea for an invention.”

I’m kind of thinking, “Oh no. This is gonna suck.”

The pitch begins. “So do you know how toothpicks are just plain. Like just wooden? They’re just small, boring sticks really. But what if you had this?” He pulls out a piece paper with a colorful toothpick drawn. Kind of like a candy cane. But tooth picky. “Flavored toothpicks!”

“Oh really?”

He proceeds to show me his various designs. He even had measurements drawn out. As if people don’t know how big a toothpick is. He’s all excited. And I’m thinking, “This is the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard.” He then goes onto show me a list of manufacturers that he’s planning on contacting. *thought bubble over my head: please record the calls. Please record the calls.*

I’m like, “Not to put you down Dave but I’ve worked at restaurants and they buy toothpicks and matches….all that stuff in bulk. I bet a restaurant orders toothpicks once every five years. And they probably order them from a place that supplies them with tons of other crap, like matches, straws..you know.”

“Yeah but they’re not FLAVORED toothpicks.”

“To tell you the truth, I don’t think anyone cares. Think about it. It’s kind of dumb.”

“Yeah? You don’t know!” He puts his papers back into his invention folder and storms away. It was never mentioned again.

And NO, he’s not a toothpick tycoon now. I guess I killed the dream.

FIRST TBY GUEST BLOGGER POST EVER. Lottery Practical Joke.

If you follow me on Twitter you probably know one of my best blog friends is @TrinaLikesWine . Se cracks me up everyday and we also DM and email and just laugh. (And she's hot too. Just so you know).

Well if you're a reader of this blog you know that I love practical jokes. Many of the classics I've performed over the years are in here. Well here is a great one that Trina did a few years ago. I give you... the first ever THAT BLUE YAK guest blogger post and a great practical joke:

Ever had a coworker who annoyed you to your core? One who disrupted the unspoken office rule of "Don't talk to me until I've had my first cup of coffee"...The guy or gal who thrived on exerting their non existent knowledge on everything. Gossipers, Corporate conspiracy theorists, Blowhards...you get the picture. I worked with just that type of guy. His name was Derek.

Derek was the expert on everything. He had no kids of his own, but would let my female workers know what he'd do in the arena of discipline. Cooking? He knew of a secret recipe that would blow yours out of the water. He wasn't trained for Information Technology but was convinced he could develop an application for our group to utilize. 40 hours of testing later his program was scrapped…too many so called, “Glitches” for Derek to correct.

One skillset Derek did possess was the art of sucking up to management. Inflate a manager’s ego and you’re set.

My coworkers and I were tired of Derek but could never come up with a good way to get him to shut up and sit down. Among the things I knew about Derek was his passion for the lottery...He was forever trying to get an office lottery pool going, but would often go out on his own and purchase the tickets on his lunch break. He'd then keep the tickets in his desk as though he slept the night before like a kid on Christmas Eve. I could picture him thinking he'd strut into the office, open his desk drawer and exclaim, "OH MY GOD! IT CAN'T BE! I'M RICH!" as though money would make up for all his inadequacies combined.

In his mind, getting rich quick meant all the office females would flock to him in droves. He'd then have the pleasure of puffing his chest and announcing he would be moving on to greener pastures with his posse of beauties..

One morning, as I sipped my first cup of coffee, Derek came over and plopped his sloppily dressed ass into my guest chair. He leaned in, lowered his voice and looked around as though he was about to reveal state secrets. "Do you play the lottery?" he asked. Beyond uninterested and annoyed at his violation of the cardinal "1st Cup of Coffee" rule, I didn't disguise my disinterest..."No.." I replied, "Do you really think anyone wins that stuff? I don't bother." Unfazed by my blatant disdain for his presence he continued, "Well, I don't know if you've heard, but the jack pot is close to 2 million bucks..." As though my nonexistent chances of winning a hot 2 mill would excite me. "Wanna start an office pool?" he asked. "I don't think many would be interested Derek...How about you go for it?”, I muttered sarcastically and turned away towards my computer. As Derek walked away I had an epiphany....

The winning lotto numbers were announced the following evening on TV. I endured the torture of having to watch as the highly excitable host and blonde lotto beauty delicately opened the vacuum tube to allow the lotto balls to load. Pen and paper in hand I took note of the winning numbers. I woke extra early the following morning and bought a lottery ticket emblazoned with the winning numbers. I snuck into the office early and placed the ‘winning ticket’ among his purchased lotto tickets.

About half an hour later, Derek came into the office. We were all in cubes so I could him performing his usual morning tasks before coming to annoy me. He hung his coat, logged into his computer (“So there was a record of getting into the office early”, he once told me), and proceeded to open his desk drawer. Not long after, one of my coworker friends came over.

I could tell by the expression on her face that something was brewing, but kept my composure. “Trina, has Derek come over to you yet?” she asked. “No”, I replied calmly, “Actually it’s been nice having a quiet morning, why?” She proceeded to tell me that Derek had gone over to her desk with the lottery ticket and asked her to double check the numbers as he was in complete disbelief.

Since she was my friend, I proceeded to tell her of my master plan. I made her swear to not say anything and to tell Derek to bring the ticket to me to double check…You know, as a third set of eyes…She agreed and not long after, Derek appeared in my doorway with a shit eating grin on his face.

His skin under his exposed carpet of chest hair was red and mottled, not unlike a schmeer of raspberry jam. His face was flushed and his hands were fidgety. I disliked this cat so much that I had no trouble keeping my composure. “What’s going on ‘D’?” I asked, as though he was a pal of mine.

He sat in my guest chair, dabbed his exposed forehead with his hanky and said, “I think I hit it…” I put on a look of confusion, “Hit what? Oh god, is your car ok?” He nearly jumped out of my chair, “No! NO! The LOTTO!” I can’t believe what I’m reading! Can you double check these numbers?” He had a print out of the previous night’s numbers and gingerly handed me the ticket as though it was made of glass. I took both, pretended to intently study each number, then looked again, and again…I feigned a huge wide-eyed look…”Jesus, this can’t be right! Have you called the commission?” He got a little more excited after my quality number check. “No, I’ve never won! Is that what I do?” “I don’t know man, but maybe in a bit give them a call. This is unbelievable”.

Then I fed into his euphoria by asking whether he’d continue working or enjoy the spoils of his big win. At this point I was afraid he’d go tell management to go screw themselves so I finally said as I glanced at his one way ticket to faux paradise, “You know? I do see one discrepancy.” He leaned in and read over my shoulder. “No, Trina the numbers match. Exactly, see?” “Yeah,” I replied, “but look, it’s today’s date.

Gotcha!” I didn’t gloat, didn’t laugh, but instead spun in my chair and continued my work. Needless to say, I didn’t see Derek in my visitor chair for a very, very long time. Coffee never tasted so sweet….

How I Used To Torture People With Secret Santa. Brooke Shields.

Does anyone do the Secret Santa at work? We used to do it and I would love to torture people with it.

I would torture people because there were a few women in the department that would practically break into tears when their present would get stolen. As if they couldn't just go out and spend $15 on the bottle of wine that was just taken from them.

So every time a really good gift was revealed and one of the crybabies got it, we would pressure the next person to take it away, "Come on Jill. You HAVE to take that bottle of wine...Come on...do it! Do you know how good that wine is?..The next present could be junk!"

One year my gift was a little thing I liked to call,"Things From My Garage". It was a wrinkled, brown paper bag full of various things like nails, sandpaper, etc. Basically....things from my garage.

Most of the women were like, "Come on! You can’t do that! That's not fair!" But I'd say, "Sure it is, have you priced nails and sandpaper lately? They're very expensive. May I suggest re-gifting it to perhaps a brother or Uncle that is handy?"

At the end of everything I did reveal that there was cash hidden in at the bottom of the box. I forget if it was $40 or $50 but it was way more than the limit that was supposed to be used for gifts. You should have seen the look some of the faces. Oh the regret.

Another year, knowing that one woman in the department had an obsession with Brooke Shields, I put a few random things in the box including a book about Brooke Shields and I forged a signature. I even went online and copied the Brook Shields signature because the woman in the department actually owned things that had Brooke's autograph on it. But the funny thing is that she didn't know I knew about her obsession because she was embarrassed about it so it was supposed to be this big secret. But everyone knew.

So my present gets picked and the person is going through the random things and says, "A Brooke Shield's book? That's weird."

Everyone is kind of rolling their eyes and I say, "Look inside. It's autographed."

Well the Brooke Shields fan's eyes light up and she's like,"Can I see that?" But she's trying to play it cool. She looks at the autograph and it's obvious on her face that
"this thing is real!" Like shes an antiques roadshow expert or something. She looks around to play it cool in the way someone would flip through a book and
find $500 hidden in it. You know what Ann? It’s friggin’ Brooke Shields. Nobody cares.

Well she finally ends up with the Zibbs Potpouri box. All excited and shit. I did feel kind of bad so at the end of the whole thing I told her it was a fake autograph. You know, so she didn't try and get it valued and find out it was worthless. As if the real thing would be worth anything anyway. Right? Right?