The Time I Put My Foot In My Mouth. Boy Scouts.

Oh my God. How did I forget to post this story about when I totally put my foot in my mouth?... Then shamelessly tried to back pedal my way out of it. Like lamest backpedal ever.

This was a few years ago and I was coming back from a night out with my friend “The Child” and The Child’s college buddy. I met the college buddy maybe 3 times over the years but didn’t really know him well at all. (And to set the picture the buddy was kind of a serious guy.)

We’re driving in the car and a radio commercial for the Boy Scouts comes on. Then this happens:

Me: (in loud, blow hard, sarcastic voice) The Boy Scouts? Phhhhttttt! What about those dudes that are Boy Scouts into high school? Like an Eagle Scout? "Look, I earned my 'Doesn’t want to get laid badge.' Look at meeeee..” You’ve got to be kidding me.

College Friend: (from the back seat) Actually both of my son’s are in high school and really involved in Scouting. I’ve even been a troop leader. We’ve gone on some great camping trips and it’s been a really great experience.

**** SOUND OF SCREECHING BRAKES IN MY HEAD…TOTALLY EMBARRASSED, THE WORST BACKPEDALING BEGINS*****

Me: Really? (acting is if his three sentence statement somehow changed my entire perspective on what I think about being a Boy Scout in high school. Like it was the closing statement in the Scopes Monkey Trial and I finally saw the light) …I didn’t know THAT. Hmmm..I guess scouting can be kind of cool.

Silence from the backseat. Then The Child changes the subject. I look in mirror and see this:

Shut Up About Your Cruise! I Don't Care! Boring People.

There’s nothing I can’t stand more than a bore ass. People just yappin’ about stuff that isn’t remotely interesting or funny. And giving every mundane detail. Going on and on.

Like this chick I used to work with would go on a cruise every year and when she came back she would tell me every boring detail. She’d start off like, “OK, so we get there Monday. And usually we like to check in and get right to the bar, but it was really crowded so we decided, ‘What he hell’, lets sneak in a drink across the street…”

But saying it in a way like “Aren’t we crazy?” And trust me. Nothing interesting happened across the street but the margarita’s were sooooooo good.

Then she would proceed to go day by day and tell me every boring detail. I’d sit there nodding (because I’m a nice guy – plus I was trapped in her office). Sometimes when you thought your sentence was almost over she’d remember something “important” in the story and have to go back, “So we wake up on Thursday and then and I wanted to get to that buffet so….Oh wait! I forgot to tell you about the illusionist we saw Wednesday night*!!!”

I was always happy when she was done and even happier when I’d see her corning someone else in the hall or in the coffee room. And you’d see the same glazed over look in their eyes as she excitedly told them the exact story. Word for word, “We met this couple named Peggy and Mike. They were sooooo funny. We’re going to keep in touch. Mike was a RIOT!” I'd give the person a look behind her back like, "Hmmm you don't say.."

So basically what I’m trying to say is: if you’re boring, please shut the fuck up.

(And look at that fat fuck in the blue at the buffet table. Jesus Christ Tubby. Leave some food for the rest of us!)

*can he make me disappear

The Time Something Terrible (Funny) Happened To My Sister

I find nothing funnier than when things are going great for people then all of a sudden disaster strikes.

Well not like tornadoes or death or anything but things like the story I'll now tell you that my sister told me.

A little background. My sister at the time had three kids. Ages 5, 4 and zero. And she was kind of paranoid about going out at the time with all three because it was such a big ordeal. So the idea of bringing the three of them to the park AND the 4 year old's friend was a major thing for her. This is how she told the story to me:

So I can't believe how great things were going. The boys were being so good, and the baby wasn't crying and I'm thinking this is such a great day. I was really proud of myself. Then all of a sudden Billy Bob's* friend says "Mrs Renard** I have to go potty."

And Jimmy, I'm like, "Oh no. Not now!" And I look in the distance and at the far end of the park there's a porta potty. So I gather up all our stuff and we make our way over there. Billy Bob's friend is saying, "I really have to go Mrs Renard."

And I'm trying to stay calm. Well we get over there and believe it or not it's a brand new porta potty. It had never been used. Totally clean. So the kid goes in, he says, "I can do it myself."

And I just give a sigh of relief.

Well about 30 seconds later I hear a panic in the kid's voice saying, "Mrs Renard,I need help!"

Well Jimmy, I opened the door....and there's shit EVERYWHERE! All over the wall, on the toilet, on the floor, all over him and his clothes. It was like someone had filled up a bag of shit and hit it like a PINATA!!!

So I'm trying to stay calm but his clothes are covered with shit so I had to undress him and wrap him in the baby's blanket and we made our way back to the car.

HAHAHA! A Pinata! God. I love that story. So glad it didn't happend to me.

And if you're a fan of explosive diarreah stories you'd LOVE this one: Clicky here

*fake name
**Also a fake name

Look At That Kid Selling Flowers In 1976 In Chester County! Downingtown. Exton.

One of the jobs I had when I was in about 6th grade was selling flowers on the corner. Yup, read it and weep. There was a guy in my neighborhood that ran it as a side business.

He would buy flowers wholesale then have 12 year olds dropped off around busy traffic areas around Chester County to sell them. We’d hold the flowers out for drivers to see. They would sometimes stop and buy them. I think we got 25 cents for each small bunches we sold and 35 cents for the large bunches.

And it sucked. I swear that if it wasn’t a holiday like Easter or Mother’s Day and I was on a crappy corner I’d sometimes make like $12 after six hours. That comes to…well…YOU do the math. What am I? A human abacus or Chisanbop expert?

Here are a few of the things I remember most about the job:

- The first day I show up and we’re all piled in the back of a white serial killer style van. We’d sit on overturned buckets. When we passed under overpasses, all the greasers would throw bottles out of the windows to smash on the walls. (By the way – other than my friend Flare and me – it was all greasers. Oh, and the teenage goofy ass driver Gene. He looked like a shorter version of that tall freak on C.P.O. Sharkey*)

- Once on the corner of Boot Road and Route 100 - with all of my flower buckets lined up – an 18 wheeler accidently turned the corner and came up on the grass and smashed all of my flowers. The A-hole didn’t even stop. The faces on the drivers that witnessed it ranged from “Oh my God! That poor boy’s flowers!” to “HAHAHA!! That kid’s flowers are getting smashed by a fucking 18 wheeler!” (I was so embarrassed I stood there and pretended it wasn’t happening.)

My friend Flare was selling flowers on 113 in Downingtown and the police showed up and were looking for something in the weeds 10 feet behind him. Flare asked what they were looking for and the cop said nonchalantly, “There was a murder in that house last night. We’re looking for the gun.”

Once on Route 100 (near the Exton Drive-in) I opened a soda bottle and the cap flew off and shot into my eye. I was so startled I almost walked into traffic.

Once when we were dropped back at Randy the owner’s house he called me into his office and this happened:

Randy: Jimmy, there seems to be some money missing of yours.

Me: Really?

Randy: Did you steal it?

Me: What?? No.

Randy: I’m going to have to ask you to empty your pockets and take your shoes off.

Me: What???

(Gene walks his goofy ass into the office)

Gene: Hey Randy here’s the money that was missing.

Randy: You asshole Gene!!! Jimmy you can leave now.

Yup. I had all the glamorous jobs.

*See his goofy ass picture above.

The Time My Friend Jim Wore A Cowboy Hat To School.

I have to give credit to anyone that goes out on a limb and makes a fashion statement out of their comfort zone.

Naaa. I’m lying. I’ve never put any thought into that really. Who do you think I am? Mr Blackwell?

But I wrote it because I was thinking about what my neighbor Jim did in 10th grade. I knew Jim since 7th grade. We both wore the same type of clothes. Jeans, flannel shirt, occasional concert t-shirt…. (I did start to dress a bit preppy in 11th grade but doesn’t matter for the story).

It was the height of Southern Rock being popular. The Outlaws, Molly Hatchet and 38 Special were in rotation on the radio.

So one day I see Jim walk to the bus stop and I’m thinking, “What the hell??”

He was wearing a big ass cowboy hat!! He walks up and I’m just looking at him. The funny thing is that he’s pretending like nothing is out of the ordinary.

“What the hell? Is this a joke?”

All casual-like he says, “Oh the hat? Naaa. Just got it this weekend. You know it’s pretty cool. It’s all Southern Rock and shit.” (and he wasn’t even convincing HIMSELF. He knew he wasn’t just going to just blend in. There was only one other kid that wore a cowboy hat and he was a friggin’ hick)

“Dude. You can’t wear that to school. You look ridiculous.”

“Hey whatever.”

Of course I was right. He went to school and by the second period so many people made fun of he threw it in his locker. It was never seen again. Come to think of it, I don’t even think he brought it home. I bet he just threw it in the trash.

And oh yeah. It had a feather in it. (See picture above)

The moral? Don't try and be different.

And on a related note these two preppy ass idiots in 11th grade did a similar thing. They both wore clogs on the same day to school. It was the gayest thing you ever saw and they were laughed out of the cafeteria. I don’t know which is gayer – wearing clogs or planning to have your friend wear them on the same day so you can unveil them together.

Gay blades.

The Time The Toilet Overflowed At Work. Nooo!!

I remember just starting my first corporate job. I had been there a few weeks and I’m standing there finishing up at the urinal, I flush it and then the unthinkable happens.

It started to overflow.

And I don’t mean a little either. It was like a pipe had burst. Water was just pouring out. At the rate of like a gallon every three seconds.

And it’s loud too! The water hitting the tile floor in this huge corporate bathroom was even making an echo. So I just calmly walked out of the bathroom. Quickly. Trying to look innocent as I walked out. Fleeing the scene of the crime.

I return to my desk and was going to call maintenance but thought that the story would change from “the new guy flushed the urinal and the pipe broke” to “That new guy apparently thinks our bathrooms are some sort of playground or something. He clogged one of the toilets.” Someone else would chime in, “The bastard probably used too much toilet paper! Doesn’t HR do background checks anymore? Jesus Christ!”

So I returned to by cube and sat down knowing that a disaster was happening. Gallons of water flooding the Men’s Room. Then I hear someone at the copier which is right by the Men’s Room. After a few copies are made I hear, “OH MY GOD! Somebody call maintenance. There’s a flood!” Her look was probably one of horror as she dropped her papers.

Next I hear maintenance opening up the door after breaking through the crowd. OK. There were only a few people there but still. I pictured a wave of water piling out like the scene from The Shining where the blood comes rushing down the hall. And I picture the water flooding the area outside of the Men’s Room. Fish flopping all over the floor. Random seaweed and six pack plastic thingies littering the walls.

Then I was on edge all day thinking they were going to catch me:

Marketing Dude: Hey Jim do you have the product info for…

Me: There’s no way you’re going to pin this on me Pal! You can’t PROVE anything. Can you?..Oh….what?

Or:

Advertising Dude: Jim are you finished looking at the copy for…

Me: What? Cause I guy pees it means he BROKE a urinal? What is this? The god damn Nuremburg trials? ..wait….what?

Bottom line is that nobody ever found out it was me. So don’t go narcin’ me out. Got it?

What I Used To Do To Jerks When I Sold Magazines Over The Phone.

Back in college I had a part time job selling magazine subscriptions to people over the phone. I know, I know..”How do YOU get all the glamorous jobs?”

Of course this was before the “do not call” list. So it was a time when random people could call you and try and sell you things you didn’t need ala’ the phone.

It didn’t bother me when people said no or hung up on me but some people were real jerks. Like, “Listen you loser, take my name off your list! Don’t ever call back here again you asshole! Do you hear me??!”

Oh I hear you all right. I hear you enough to make a notation next to your number (usually a drawing of skull and bones) then when my manager leaves the room I will do this:

Jerk: Hello?

Me: Uh yeah…it’s me again. The magazine guy.

Jerk: I thought I told you not to….

Me: (calmly) Hold on now dear sir. Because I’m only going to say this once: You WILL be buying these magazines. Are we clear?

Jerk: I will not be buying your magazines!!!!!

Me: Oh no you will. Everybody’s doing it. Now the next step is you picking which one to buy. Were you aware that Good Housekeeping offers helpful tips for the modern…..

Jerk: I WANT TO SPEAK TO YOUR MANAGER!!

Me: Sir, my manager is a very busy man. You sound like a bowler. Oh….and before I forget, can you have your credit card number ready because I get a break in a few minutes and I want to wrap up this sale quickly…OK, now back to the selling…

Jerk: I AM NOT BUYING ANY MAGAZINE!!

Me: Sir, I’m not going to call you cheap but will you – in a calm voice – explain to me why you’re so unwilling to open your wallet. Do you know HOW to read? Because if you don’t magazines would make a great gift for a friend…if they can read of course.

Jerk: WHAT IS THE NAME OF YOUR COMPANY??!! I’m calling the Better Business Bureau!!

Me: Sir the name of my company is very confidential. I’m really not at liberty to say. But I will say this: Cat Fancy is the top selling cat magazine in…

*Click*

You Want To Touch What Cookie? Wrangler Ranch.

Was telling someone the other day about when my sister worked at the Wrangler Ranch at the Exton Mall. I was in 9th grade and I had to go in to get a pair of jeans.

Her manager was a woman of about 50 named Cookie. She was one of these loud talking, super confident, drill seargent type women. But she was nice. She was just Cookie.

So I go in the store, she's standing there wearing all demin - Wrangler brand of course - and looking like she was ready to go to The Brickette. The Brickette is a local country music bar. And oh yeah. She had that really high hair. It always looked like she just came from the beauty parlour. That's what they used to call it back in those days.

I'm looking at jeans and:

Cookie: Looks like you need to be measured first Mister. Do you mind?

Me: Oh OK.

(She takes the tape measure and wraps it around my waist and measures. Then she gets on her knees so she can do the length)

Cookie: Are you OK with me touching your inseam to get a proper measurement?

(I had no idea what an inseam was)

Me: My what?

Cookie: Your inseam. You know..your crotch region.

Me: Uh....I guess.

Cookie: OK. And the reason I ask Jimmy is because you're a young man. And young men are very excitable? Do you know what I mean here? And even the slightest brush from a woman's hand - or even a tape measure can cause a raging boner. Do you know what a boner is Jimmy? Was that covered in your health class yet?

Me: Uh. Yeah.

Cookie: OK good. Because first thing it's a boner and the next thing you're spewing jizz all over my store. Not on my watch Jimmy. Not on my watch!

OK the last part I made up but she did ask me if she could touch my inseam. So there's that.

Great Part Time Job I Had. Corvettes to Cowtown NJ

I had tons of part time jobs when I was younger. One of the coolest was a job I had driving cars to an auction.

There was a place in West Chester that would buy sports cars and high end cars, then fix them up and sell them at auction.

Pretty smart guy huh? Well he wasn't THAT smart because he hired 18 and 19 year old kids to drive them to the auction in Cowtown New Jersey. He would always give the same speech before four or five of us left in separate cars, "This is important..Obey all traffic laws and DO NOT SPEED!"

Yeah OK buddy. That's like throwing an antelope into a lion pit and saying, "Im not kidding guys, Everyone gets a limb. After you're done that I'm going to come in and divide the body and the head into equal parts. Are we clear?

We'd drive really slow up the street in our Corvettes, Camaros or Mercedes then as soon as we were out of sight it was PEDAL TO THE METAL BIATCH!! I remember driving an orange Corvette 120 MPH. Safely mind ya'.

Yeah right.

Well nobody got killed thank God so I guess no harm no foul. Is that the expression? Once we got to Cowtown we'd drop the cars off and all pile into one of those white windowless, serial killer vans for the ride back. Crouched in the back and being driven a ridiculous 55 MPH.

It was fun while it lasted.

Twinkie Tour In Dream.

Between Blog people and Twitterers probably 40 – 50 of you have made appearances in my dreams. Here’s one from the other night that featured Trina from the blog Trina Likes Wine (Twitter name: @TrinaLikesWine ):

We decided to do a humor/food podcast so we were at the Twinkie factory to get a tour of the plant. We were going record it for the podcast. We went in for the tour and were acting really sarcastic - like we were thrilled to be there and it was the most amazing place on earth.

The tour guide was this really boring, nerdy man with big ass glasses and had no idea we were goofing on the whole thing. So we’re walking down the hall with him…

Trina: Can we see the state of the art employee break room? Can we? Can we?

Tour Guide: Well Ma’am it’s not on the official tour but…

Trina: So we CAN see it?

We walk into the employee break room and it’s a typical factory break room with circa 1970s tables and chairs and a few vending machines. We both pretend like it’s the most fascinating place we’ve even seen

Trina: Oh my God! It’s like walking into the future!

Me: Whoa! Look at the art. Are these originals?

We look at the safety posters that hang on the walls. One shows the proper way to lift things.

Me: Wow! Do they show films about how to lift things properly? And in the film one guy doesn’t lift the Twinkie the proper way and his back breaks? So he’s crippled? And now he sits in his wheelchair outside peering in a tiny window at the Twinkie assembly line regretting that he didn’t lift the right way? And a single tear drips down his cheek?

Tour Guide: Well. I don’t think so. Are you ready to begin the official tour?

Trina rubs the back of the metal chair in faked amazement.

Trina: Do we get to wear hair nets? Do we? Do we?

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.