Thursday, January 31, 2008

Favorites from the Spam Folder... Edition 1

"Make her dreams come true when she sees that you now have a HUGE tool in your pants!"
~ Editor's comment: If he bought one more GD tool, I'm going to rip his you-know-what off Lorena Bobbitt style.

"Invitation for ____ ______! (This is my mom's name.) You CAN be rich!!!"
~ Editor: If that skeezy old bag is holding out on me, she'll never see her grandchild. I swear.

"London Calling!"
~ Editor: A. I'm not answering. and B. How in the Sam Hell did you get this number? And don't tell me you're a US FREAKING MARSHALL. I've heard that one before.

Wednesday, January 30, 2008

The Great Bambino/a

Oh, where to begin, where to begin, where to begin. How aboutttttttttttttttttt here: We're havin' a baby, ya'll. Yes, this is the exciting news of the hour and the past 2,016 hours actually. What do you want to know? I'll tell it to you.

Moderator: Were you planning this?
T-money: Yes.
Moderator: How far along are you?
T-moolah: About 12 weeks, give or take.
Moderator: Are you going to find out the gender?
T-mizzle: Yes, around 18-20 weeks.
Moderator: Are you leaving New York for the green, green, green,
cheap pastures of the Midwest?
T-sizz: Not right at the moment, but the thought has crossed our
minds once or a thousand times.
Moderator: Are your families excited?
T-biz: Yes, freaking out excited. And my sister in law is prego
as well, just two weeks behind me. So there are babies amongst us!
Moderator: Have you been sick to your stomach nauseous and wanting to
puke your guts out 24/7?
T-whack: Yes and yes. Though it is mostly over now, the first
10 weeks were ru-u-uff. Glad that's over. Hail Mary.
Moderator: Have you experienced weird cravings?
T-skiz: Yes, here they are in chronological order: Chicken wings
(though the thought of them now makes me want to vom-town), potato chips (plain,
lays), hard boiled eggs with kosher salt and pepper, and currently: Ramen cup o'
soup noodles (in chicken, not shrimp. Shrimp was a bad choice.)
Moderator: Anything else?
T-fly: No, not right now. But thank you for the interview and
the hot chocolate and Pepperidge Farm cookie assortment.

Tuesday, January 22, 2008

Home Front News: Update Edition

So there's big news brewing at the Ol' Laugh More spot.

Just you wait...

See for yourself!

I ain't lieing.

Now if I just had a minute to tell you, but alas, I do not.

What good is work if it keeps you busy all the time, huh? Not good at all, I say.

Tuesday, January 15, 2008

Yeah, I Do That

So, I love nothing more than leaving harassing voicemail and text messages for my friends when they don't answer my calls. I listen to the ringing eagerly anticipating it to go to voicemail so I can have my way with their inbox. Usually, if they pick up, I get annoyed because they foil my plans, and I'm not really ready to talk to them in real time. In this case, I may just go ahead with my message, ignoring their live attempts at conversation before hanging up.

Friday, January 11, 2008

Mayday! Our Lavatory is Under Attack

Mysterious wonders are afoot in the office bathroom at this very minute. Recently, I've been noticing the addition of various sundry items to our 2 foot by 2 foot lavatory. However, I am very suspicious. What happened to the days of 48 hour standoffs between myself and my coworkers versus the housekeeping staff over inadequate paper towel supplies? Where did the hostility with Maintenance over the clogged toilet go? Why now are our wash closet needs being recognized and attended to? Who is responsible for the endless supply of not only paper towels, but also toilet paper, hand soap, lotion, and even, dare I say it? Toothpaste and toothbrushes?! This has beseige written all over it. And I won't be sucked into the hospitality vortex like the rest of them. I know there are underlying motives to these niceties, and I reject their meager attempt to buy my affections.

People, there's now a wire cart in there filled with baskets of personal hygiene items. I cannot begin to express the magnitude of this situation. Someone is dangerously close to overthrowing the well-defined office hygiene politics and committing a violent coup against our daily watercloset routines. Waste no time! We have to do something before all of our needs are met and we have nothing left to complain about. What then? What then?

[However, I did take a container of hand sanitizing wipes for my personal workspace needs. Shut up, because I said so, that's why.]

Tuesday, January 8, 2008

Bumbling Jehosaphats, Batman!

You're never going to believe this. Hold on to your toenails. In just a few weeks, I'! You don't believe me? Well, then I bet you'd like to see the super duper secret email I have waiting for me in my inbox right now, chronicling the directions for meeting Martha, wouldn't you? Well, sorry to burst your bazoongas, you're not going to see it. Because then you might dress up as a really hot, sexy brunette and pretend to be me and steal my spot to see her, and YOU CANNOT DO THAT. I have my date with destiny, and you cannot perpetrate it. (?) Wow.

I hope this doesn't get me really excited and super happy like the Regis and Kelly show and then turn out to be a total dud and ruin my chi. Because my chi's about to kick someone's ass. And I hope to God it doesn't have to be Martha's. My main driving force for the excitement is that I might receive in return for my esteemed presence in the studio two things: A. Food and B. Free Stuff. These being the only real reasons anyone goes to live studio shows anymore, I do not feel guilty for not caring if Cuba Gooding Jr. or Mary Tyler Moore are the guests. Hell, it could be Martha's roommate in prison and I wouldn't care, just give me some cheese blintzes and I'll shut up.

Stay tuned, loyal worshippers-er-friends, and I will give you all the dirt you'll ever wish you had on behind the scenes with M to the izzo. Peace out for now though, it's time to go home.

Friday, January 4, 2008

The First Christmas I Wasn't Left With "Bitter Christmas Mouth"

Do you know what I'm talking about? Like, magically at midnight on December 26th anything whatsoever even resembling Christmas makes you want to puke your guts out? Like, if I have to listen to one more freaking Christmas song, I'm going to go ballistic and rip someone's ears or possibly toes off? And if I even see a Christmas decoration I'm going to rip my own eyes out and stuff them in the garbage disposal (sorry that one was kind of gross).

Well, guess what? It didn't happen this year! I am still full of the Christmas Spirit. And it's January 4th. And now my New Years Spirit is raring to go, too. That's double the holiday spirit, people. Call the National Guard, or the Navy, or someone. I have been reminiscing over what might have saved me from the After Christmas Poo-Poo Letdown Massacre and have decided that it is entirely due to the fact that I refused to let myself get abducted by the Commercial Christmas Nazis that govern all methods of entertainment and advertising during the Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays. I did not buy one materialistic overpriced gift, did not purchase one single extraneous Christmas decoration, or participate in any gift swap of any kind. I spent time and love making presents for everyone I care about this season and they were more intrinsically valuable to me to give than I ever believed it would be for the people to receive them. That is awesome. I have stumbled on the answer and I will fall down flat on my face gladly year after year doing the same thing.

My Post Holiday Transcendence is also due in large part to the time we got to spend with our families this year. For the first time, I didn't feel rushed and anxious over attending everything possible and seeing everyone individually. We had lots of time to see everyone and spend good quality time rather than frantic holidays on crack time. I cannot believe it went by so quickly, but I also feel blessed to have had that much time to spend at home at all. Thank you to everyone who made our holidays special. We love you all dearly and value your friendships to no end.

Happy New Year.