Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category

The Yellow Ones Don’t Stop

May 1, 2011

My first full day all by myself in New York City! Go me! I survived moving trucks and airplanes, had a healthy dinner of fried items in a comedy club, and found my way back to my hotel all by my lonesome.

What was in store for me on my second day? Starbucks, of course. Of the 9 that were within leaping distance, I chose the one to the left. Yeah, I have no idea what street it was on and I figure it doesn’t really matter.

After I got my coffee, I planted myself on a wall right in front of the TKTS booth on Times Square. It was noon. The booth opened at 2pm. I wanted to be first in line. Also, there are a BAZILLION dogs that walk through Times Square (with their owners, not by themselves). So I wanted to see how many I could pet.

I was annoyed by a camera guy standing next to me and interrupting my dog petting, so I started to move, and the lady who was with the camera guy asked me what I thought of the display of the FBI’s Most Wanted on the Times Square tv thing. I said that I thought they should get rid of the word jumble game that was showing at that moment, and put more bad guys on. She said “Would you say that on tv?” and I said “Sure”. Then a dog walked by and I was temporarily distracted, but she was on her cell phone, so I’m pretty sure she just told me to wait. So I waited and I pet more dogs. Then my big moment came and she interviewed me on camera and asked me about the East Coast Rapist. I’m pretty sure I sounded like I knew what she was talking about, because basically, you have to figure, a rapist is bad, whether he’s from the east coast or the west coast. So it’s a safe bet to say that you are not in favor of the East Coast Rapist and that you’d like him to get caught. What did they expect me to say? “I’m from the midwest, so I really don’t care what he does on the east coast”. Anyway, it was neat to be on tv. And at 1, I got in line (I was first) for TKTS.

I was sitting next to a group of Asian girls who barely spoke English. The elected a spokesperson, and she talked to me. She was asking what shows would be good for people who don’t understand English very well. I like to be asked about things I like, and I happen to like theater very, very much, so I had a lot to say on the subject. I think she probably got about 10% of it, but I didn’t care, because I was basically talking to hear myself, not to inform her. My soliloquy attracted the attention of the people in line behind the Asians, and they started asking me what I’ve seen, how many times, etc. I can trump most people with that – RENT over 50 times, Les Mis and Phantom over 25 each, and the list goes on. So I made sure I mentioned every single show I’ve ever seen in my life. And then they started asking me what I thought of shows I hadn’t seen, like The Addams Family and American Idiot. Well, God forbid they should think I don’t know everything, so I told them exactly what I thought of those shows. By now a group had formed around me, asking more questions and my opinion and suggestions. I was talking OUT OF MY ASS, I had NO clue what to tell anyone because I haven’t seen a current Broadway show since 2006. But damn did I give those people advice. And they followed it! I got people to move out of the “Musicals” line and into the “Straight Play” line to see That Championship Season. I stage managed it, so I do actually know the show, but I haven’t freaking seen it on Broadway. Anyway, as I was giving my fans my wealth of made up knowledge, a guy walked by and said “How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying” was on the board for that day. That’s when I stopped orating and concentrated on shoving anyone out of my way to get a ticket for that show. Do I love that show? No, I actually kind of hate it. But Daniel Radcliffe and John Laroquette are in it, and there was no way I was going to miss seeing Harry Potter…I mean, Daniel Radcliffe…in person. I got a front row seat.

This is where my true Buddy the Elf nature comes in. I was crossing the street with a bunch of other people to go back to my hotel (they weren’t going to my hotel, I was) (also, I only cross the street with a group of people because otherwise I feel like people are watching me) and a taxi made a right hand turn on a red light, and he went really, REALLY fast and came to an abrupt halt. Not abrupt enough, though, because I got hit by the taxi. Not enough to get knocked over, but enough to shove me and leave a giant bruise from my hip to my knee. I’ve been hit by cars before, so I know the protocol – pretend nothing happened and keep walking as if you are fine, otherwise you will be publicly humiliated. The first time I got hit by a car was in a Giant Eagle parking lot, and the car backed into me and I tipped over on to their trunk and sort of slid off back into a standing position. Then I started walking like nothing happened, as people were rushing over to me, and I turned to a woman and said “My God, I almost just died” and then I went inside and did my grocery shopping. So anyway, I get hit by a taxi and then I went back to my hotel and took a nap.

I arrived at the theater super early, hoping to catch Harry Potter…I mean, Daniel Radcliffe…going in. He was already in. John Laroquette walked right by me, but he was wearing a baseball hat, so I didn’t recognize him, because that’s all it takes for me to not recognize someone. A hat. Then the person next to me said “That was him, you know”, and I said “CRAP! I missed my chance!” and that was that.

The show itself was not great. It was only their third preview, so I’m sure it will get better. Harry Potter is not a good actor – but he is adorable and he can dance like the dickens, and I could have touched him from where I was sitting.

After the show, I tried to stage door stalk, but only about 800 other people had that idea, too, and I got so smushed and shoved and groped that I went back to my hotel.

My next post dated entry will be about Dave Letterman, Three Monkeys chicken fingers, and the Lion King.

I Drove a Giant Moving Truck to Virginia

February 26, 2011

If my past tense/future perfect/past perfect future tenses don’t make sense, that’s because I’m writing this and the next couple blogs after the fact. I took PLENTY of notes, but didn’t have access to this iWeb thing, so I couldn’t actually post anything.

Ok, so I was all gung ho about driving a 10 foot moving truck from Cleveland, Ohio to Richmond, Virginia. I thought, hey, cool, a giant truck. As I mentioned before, it wasn’t so much a truck as it was a metal box of death. So instead of leaving at 3am and driving straight through with my cousin driving behind me, I decided to drive half way there on Saturday, stay at a hotel, and drive the rest of the way on Sunday. Best freaking choice I’ve ever made.

For those of you who don’t know, I have a tendency to fall asleep. Driving, talking, walking, sitting, standing, in public places, at work, at school, while sitting at the kitchen table helping AJ with homework – I can pass out at literally any minute. This has become a bit of an issue with my driving. Towards the end of my 4.5 hour drive to my stopping point, I started falling asleep. Yes, I can fall asleep even while terrified and driving a truck. So I decided that in order to stay awake, I need to be entertained, so I started waving frantically and enthusiastically to every semi-truck that passed me. The most I got was a hesitant, unenthusiastic wave back, but hey, it kept me awake. I think maybe they thought I was a “special” trucker, but in my heart of hearts, I know I am a true trucker.

I got to my hotel where had supposedly made my reservations. Long story short, I got my room, paid twice, and was refunded once. I jumped on the bed. I watched the Disney channel without anyone making fun of me. I parallel parked the 10 foot truck. And the next morning I started out bright and early after driving the horribly awkward truck through a Starbucks drive through, which may not have been the best choice. I have learned not to do that anymore. I also paid 2$ for a Gatorade out of a vending machine and it was supposed to be green and it came out orange.

This part of the trip went pretty quick, except for the fact that you can not trust Google Maps on the iPhone to get you where you are going. I took a few detours. BUT I GOT THERE! My cousin Shannon had to back the truck into a parking spot because I do NOT drive trucks (or cars) backwards. It confuses me and I panic when I have to figure out which way to turn the wheel.

With a TON of help from my cousin Mark (Shannon’s brother), we got the truck unloaded and into the condo. I met the neighbor’s dogs, and I’m pretty sure they had humans with them, but I don’t remember that part.

We had dinner, and I am totally exposing my cousins here, but this is too funny to pass up. When Shannon got me alone, she said about her brother “I have so much work to do on him”. When Mark got me alone, he said about his sister, “I have so much work to do on her”. I wonder if they have any idea what they are in for! But the cool part is that Shannon LOVES her sister in law, brother, and niece and nephew, and that will be a great help to Mark and Lauren. See the Quotes section of my webpage for some pretty awesome quotes from them!

Mark took me to my hotel, which totally kicked ass. The Double Tree by the airport in Richmond. They gave us cookies when we checked in. Then my room was just awesome. I jumped on more beds. I watched Glee on Hulu. I had a lovely time. On a less positive note, Mark got stuck for hours in traffic because of a huge accident where there were dead people and everything. So one point for me, and one point for me traumatizing my cousin in the process.

Check out was at noon, but my flight wasn’t until 3, but I’m such a paranoid flyer, I was ok being there that early. Then my flight was delayed by 3 hours. It was storming out. More things that are not good for a nervous flyer. I was on my third Dramamine and third Klonopin at this point, so I was pretty much ready for anything. I read a book on my Kindle. Which book, you ask? I have no idea. Some YA novel about vampires, what else? Every YA novel these days is about vampires.

I boarded the plane like a pro, put my backpack in the overhead compartment and kept my purse with me….and as I sat there, I panicked because Moose Moose was in my backpack and I needed him. I needed him NOW. So I got up rather abruptly, hit my head on the ceiling, opened the overhead thingy and had my backpack fall out on me. Needless to say, at this point, everyone was watching me. So they watched me pull a stuffed Moose out of my backpack, stuff my backpack back in the overhead thingy, and sit down with the Moose. They got a show, and I felt better. Win/win.

Here’s what I did not expect – flying into JFK and being dropped off in the middle of the tarmac which I had to get to by going down an really steep, unstable, see through flight of stairs that my ass could barely fit through. And I was holding a Moose, a backpack and a purse. Then I had to walk through the rain to find my luggage.

I had been warned NOT to take a taxi from the airport, so I found a nice lady (actually, she was really pissed off and bitter) who arranges transportation to hotels. By the end of our transaction, my “I’m not quite retarded, but it’s a fine line” personality had won her over and she was laughing and calling me honey.

The Van of Death pulled up and I got in, the front seat, thankfully. There were people stuffed like sardines in the back rows and I probably would have thrown up on them at that point. 45 minutes later, and several near death experiences later, I arrived at my hotel, which was lovely…and had cookies. I checked in to my room, jumped on the bed, set up all my stuff and promptly went out to wander the streets of NYC. Food was becoming a glaring necessity, as I hadn’t eaten all day for fear of throwing up on people. Some guy said “Want tickets to a comedy club?” and I said “Is there food?” and he said “yes”, so I went. It was actually really funny and my dinner consisted of tortilla chips and mozzarella sticks.

I went back to my hotel and pretty much dropped over dead from a long ass day, but it was totally cool and I loved it. I already had theaters plotted out and found all 9 Starbucks within a two minute walk from me.

Annnnddddd….I’m back!

February 11, 2011

Look at me! I’ve been through a mid life crisis and I’m back now! Actually, I think it must have been a PRE mid life crisis because if it were a mid life crisis, I’d die at age 68, and I am hoping to live longer than that.

I soul searched, I climbed a mountain and meditated, I started doing meth, I went on a spiritual retreat, I did some experimental electroshock therapy, I balanced rocks and I created a Zen garden, and now I’m all better! Actually, no, I didn’t do any of those things. I didn’t even balance rocks which sounds like fun now that I’m thinking about it. What I did was lie in bed for very long periods of time wishing that my cat would stay on my bed with me instead of leaving every few hours. I also slept a lot. This gave me a lot of time to think about all the things that I figured were wrong, so let me say this right now, if you are planning on having a pre mid life crisis, the best thing to do is NOT lie in bed and give yourself time to think about all the things you are crisis-ing about.

In the midst of my crisis, my cousin Shannon needed to find a way to move all her belongings from Ohio to Virginia, and she did not want to drive a U-Haul. Being the experienced U-Haul driver that I am, I volunteered to drive it for her. And I really did drive one once, too. My friend Mary and I drove one from Cleveland Heights to Aurora to pick up a couch and a chair to put in my basement apartment that I lived in with Catharine. We got the stuff in the truck, drove to the apartment, and promptly got the couch stuck in the doorway of the apartment building. We didn’t know what to do, so we sat on the couch in the doorway for awhile. I can’t remember if I called my friend Jason who lived a few streets over, or if he happened to be walking by and saw us sitting on a couch that was stuck in a doorway, but either way, Jason showed up and shoved it through the door for us. So anyway, I clearly am skilled at driving a U-Haul. The problem was figuring out how to get me back to Ohio, because I certainly am not going to live in Virginia. I’m sure it’s nice, but it gets hot there, and I hate hot. Also, you know, it’s Virginia. I’m sure it’s very nice. Anyway. Getting me back to Ohio. Lots of plans and ideas, but we settled on Shannon buying me a one way ticket on an airplane back to Cleveland. I went to and had William Shatner fight for my ticket price, and then naturally, I bought a one way ticket from Richmond, Virginia to New York City. This was when I decided I was going to take a vacation and go to New York City by myself. Yes, after I bought the ticket is when I decided. Don’t judge me.

So now I’m flying by myself into JFK International airport. Have I mentioned I’ve flown a handful of times in my life and most of those times had something go catastrophically wrong? The first time I was 5 and I had the chicken pox and my family was going to Disney World. My parents said “We had that vacation planned for months, we weren’t about to cancel it just because you had the chicken pox”. So I spent my Disney World vacation crawling on the floor of the hotel because I had chicken pox on the bottoms of my feet and couldn’t walk, and going to the Denny’s that was next to the hotel and eating pancakes. The one day I made it to Disney World I spent the entire time repeatedly riding “It’s a Small World” until my mom’s head was going to explode. And then my brother got the flu and threw up all over the place. I haven’t been to Disney World since.

The next time I flew I was 16 and we were taking a lovely Easter vacation as a family to Las Vegas, the holiest of all places to go on Easter. This is when I discovered I get motion sickness. Very. Severe. Motion Sickness. At a layover in Minnesota I freaked out, cried and begged my parents to either leave me in Minnesota or send me on a bus back to Cleveland, I absolutely refused to get on another airplane. Plans were made, bus schedules were looked at and then I was drugged, knocked out, put on the plane and the next thing I knew, I was in Vegas. Then a guy tried to give my 19 year old brother a prostitute flyer and my mom yelled at the guy and chased him away. And then we went to Circus Circus and my family dispersed all around the building and I was asked to leave because I was 16 and not with my parents, so I spent a good few hours standing outside waiting for someone to realize I wasn’t there.

I flew to Atlanta when I was 32, and with the correct combination of a stuffed Moose, Klonopin and Dramamine, I was juuussttt fiinnneeee. Oh wait, I flew to Vegas one more time before Atlanta. That was also a good combo of drugs and a Moose, and it featured noise canceling headphones. Steve, Mary and I took turns wearing them, and when Mary had them on, I ate a bite sized Hershey bar, and she turned to me and YELLED (she had no concept of how loud anything was with the headphones on), with a Southern accent (she’s not Southern and doesn’t remember purposely doing an accent), “YOU SMELL ALL CHOCOLATEY” on an otherwise very quiet airplane.

So what was I saying? Probably something about going to NYC by myself. Oh yeah, on an airplane by myself to one of the largest airports ever in the universe. By myself. Klonopin, Moose, Dramamine. I’m good. I hope my luggage doesn’t get sent to Haiti or something.

I have been taught how to check for bed bugs, which I had not thought of until I told Mary I was going to NYC and she said “But Darcy, what about bed bugs?” and now that’s all I can think about. If I find bed bugs, my plan is to gather all my things and run out of the room before any of the bugs can jump on me or my stuff, and proceed in a calm but quick manner to the lobby where I will yell “THERE WERE BUGS ON THE BED I CANNOT POSSIBLY STAY IN THIS HOTEL”. I will then proceed to a much fancier hotel and max out my credit card if I have to, because fancy hotels can’t possibly have bed bugs. I’m not exactly staying at a crap hotel, it’s a Hilton Garden Inn. Ok, technically I haven’t made the reservations yet, but that’s where I intend to stay. And the reason I will shout my preplanned sentence is because I figure they won’t charge my credit card for ditching my reservations if I yell that.

The moral of today’s story? Don’t lie in bed while you are having a midlife crisis, maybe plan out your vacations before you buy plane tickets, and never go to Disney World with chicken pox. And if you are a 19 year old boy and go to Vegas, don’t take my mom or she’ll yell at all the foreign prostitute card hander outers and embarrass you.

Leave of Sanity

January 20, 2011

To the five people who read my blog (thank you for reading my blog, five people!), I apologize for not posting anything lately.

I believe I am having a pre mid life crisis.

If I survive it, I can guarantee it’ll be funny as hell and I’ll write a great blog all about it, but until then, instead of falling into the trap of posting depressing, wallowing things about my life, I’m just going to wait until I can be somewhat funny again.

Don’t give up hope! Keep checking, or better yet, subscribe to my blog so you know when I’m sane (what qualifies for sane in my world) again and then you’ll know it’s safe to come back and read!

And I’m still not sure whether the proper title is “Leave of Sanity” or “Leave of Insanity”. My sanity has taken a leave, so there’s that. But I’m taking a leave because of my insanity. I’ll leave that up to debate.

Puttin’ on the Ritz

January 2, 2011

I was driving today and the song “Puttin’ on the Ritz” by Taco came on the radio (yes, the radio – not Sirius, not my iPhone – the actual radio). This brought up horrible images from my childhood of the many things I was scared of that no one else was. One of them was, you guessed it, this song. And more importantly, robots.

Puttin’ on the Ritz sounds like it is sung by robots. Robots freak me out. So there I was, my little 80’s self, being terrified of this song that I assumed was being sung by robots. And then I saw the video. Go ahead, find it on You Tube. It’s horrifying. If I had any idea whatsoever how to put a link on here to the video, I’d make it easier for you. Rest assured, it’s terrifying, especially if you truly believe it is being sung by a robot to begin with.

Another song sung by robots that freaked the hell out of me? Crimson and Clover. And Boy George. Ok, Boy George is not a song and he does not sound like a robot, but I was terrified of him as well. I think I was too young to appreciate him – not that I appreciate him now, because I don’t, but I am less scared when I see him.

People don’t understand that they need to be very scared of robots, whether they are robots that sing, play games, dance, or whatever. Some day they will animate themselves and kill you in your sleep. Don’t give me this crap about the Zombie Apocalypse, it’s not going to happen because the robots will kill us first.

At At’s from Star Wars – terrifying. Horrifying, even. To this day, I panic when I see them. They are MUCH Larger Than Anything Should Be, for one thing. They move in a creepy manner. They fall dramatically and, once again, because they are Larger Than Anything Should Be, when they fall, it’s that much more terrifying. They look like they could almost be cute, like coyotes or wolves or cats or Falcor if you just look at their faces, but then you see their size, and the world feels wrong and your heart starts racing and everything seems the wrong size because they are LARGER THAN ANYTHING SHOULD BE. I have this same problem with parked construction equipment, but not nearly as bad. Also, dirigibles. Back to the point, At At’s are basically robots – sure, they have a driver inside their head controlling them, but what happens when they wise up and eject their driver and just do what they want? Do you think a few freaking zombies have anything they can do against one single At At? I was originally going to put an At At as the picture for this post, but I just couldn’t do it, so if you aren’t sure what they are, Google them.

For those of you who own the charming and entertaining RoboSapien – do you think he just sits there at night doing nothing while you are asleep? He’s plotting your death. And that robot they used to advertise from Honda or Toyota or something? That thing gets your mail for you, sure, but it also reads it and memorizes every detail so that it can not only kill you, but assume your identity as well. Then it starts wearing your clothes and acting like you, and no one ever realizes you are gone. And if you aren’t lucky enough to be killed by it, you end up being HIS robot butler and believe me, he will not treat you well. People will come over to your house and he’ll be hosting a party as you, and you’ll be serving drinks and finger foods, and you’ll try to convince people that you are human and they will be all “Wow, what a clever robot!”, and the robot version of you will then punish you later for trying to escape.

The Electric Grandmother. I saw it on tv when I was 6 or 7. Possibly 8. It made me scared of my own grandmother, and then I felt sad that I was scared of my grandmother and I cried a lot. All I actually remember about that movie is her serving a beverage from her finger, but she was a ROBOT. I distinctly remember performing tests on my grandmother to see if she was a robot, but there is no definitive test, that’s how much they can fool you. Ok, I totally just found a picture of the robot grandmother pouring a beverage from her finger, so I’m putting that as the picture for this post instead of Taco, which is what I had originally. I also just found out it was based on a story by Ray Bradbury, so that explains a lot.

All this is to say, Know Your Robots. If you suspect a friend or family member of being one, perform tests until you are sure. Do not buy robot toys or robot butlers, because they will kill you and take over your life. Be careful out there.


December 27, 2010

First of all, I looked up “cheesecake” on Google images and this picture is one of the first that came up. If anyone can tell me what beach balls, a Vespa scooter, and a scantily clad woman have to do with cheesecake, you will get a prize. I can guarantee you that woman does not eat cheesecake and never has in her entire life. She might have taken a bite once, but I bet she threw it up. Also, it is unsafe to ride a Vespa scooter without footwear. At any rate, that’s what you get when you Google “cheesecake images”.

The first time I had cheesecake I was about 16 or 17. I went with my manager and assistant manager, and possibly some other people but I don’t remember, to…Olive Garden? I don’t remember where. All I know is that I ate fancy pasta and had cheesecake for dessert….and then spent the next two days throwing up. There was no doubt in my mind that it was absolutely the fault of the cheesecake that I was sick. I was extremely angry and vowed never to eat cheesecake again.

This leads us to a time in my youth when I ate Pigs in a Blanket and the next day developed strep throat. Guess what I never ate again? Obviously you don’t need a million years of medical school to figure out that Pigs in a Blanket cause strep throat.

Time passed, and I still have not eaten Pigs in a Blanket. I have, however, had strep throat since then, but I’m pretty sure it’s the lingering effects of the Pigs in a Blanket I ate when I was 6. I have eaten cheesecake. It took me a really, really long time. I think the first time I ate cheesecake was about two years ago, so that would be about 18 years with no cheesecake. To make up for what I missed, I have eaten a lot of cheesecake since then.

It is 2am, so I thought, hey, I should eat some cheesecake. I went downstairs and there happened to be one piece of cheesecake in the refrigerator. I didn’t know where it came from, but I didn’t care. My mom was in at her usual post, in front of the computer playing games on, so I said, “HEY. Is this cheesecake spoken for?” For the record, if the answer were “yes”, I would have cleverly cut off part of the cheesecake, making the piece smaller, but not noticeably smaller, and I would have eaten some anyway with no one being any the wiser. But the cheesecake was not spoken for, so instead I ate the whole thing, standing up in the kitchen out of my mother’s view so she could not judge me.

“Why are you standing up like a hobo? Sit down. It drives me crazy when you stand there eating standing up. And you never reheat anything”, said my mom.

“Cheesecake is not meant to be reheated” I responded.

“That was not my point, you look like you are about to take off running, sit down. Why do you take everything so literally?”

I didn’t sit down. I also misplaced all of the punctuation in the preceding sentences, and I don’t really care.

I never sit when I eat, I stand in the kitchen and get in people’s way. And it’s true, I don’t reheat things. It’s hard to believe, but I actually don’t eat frequently, so when I do, I want it IMMEDIATELY, so I just take something out of the refrigerator and eat it standing up. I’ve been called a hobo, a person with no class, a fugitive and quite a few other things, but nothing can deter me from eating while standing up in the kitchen. My lack of reheating things applies to cans of Chef Boyardee as well. Straight out of the can, no bowl necessary. I do use a fork, though, and not my hands, which I feel gives me some level of class.

I have been known to stab things with a fork, not cut them, and bite at them off the fork rather than put it on a plate and cut it like a normal human. I am unable to think of an example right now of what I’ve done this with. A sandwich isn’t really a good example because I do not eat sandwiches with forks. A potato. There you go. I will stab an entire potato and gnaw off of it like a hamster rather than put it on a plate, put it in the microwave, sit down and eat it with a knife and fork.

I have a theory about all this. My people (what do you mean, “you people”) (if you haven’t watched Tropic Thunder, that was lost on you. Also, you should watch it). My people were nomads, I believe. Think of how much this explains. My mom claims the Irish weren’t nomads, and my dad claims his kind of Jews weren’t nomads, they were from Cleveland, but there is some question as to whether or not I’m actually related to these people or not. I have no proof of that. Although I guess my dad is actually the grown up, male version of me, so there’s genetic proof right there. But he’s really good with finances and opening the mail, and I’m not.

Anyway, nomads. So I rock back and forth a lot, right? This is because at any moment, my ancestors may have been attacked, so the rocking motion provided them with good momentum to get a running headstart. If nothing was attacking, then they just rocked, waiting for something to attack.

Standing and eating, same idea. You never know when a wild boar or a member of an enemy tribe (perhaps the Jews or the Irish?) were going to attack, so if you were standing in the middle of your caveman kitchen, eating a potato off a fork and rocking back and forth, you were in the ideal position to take off running and still have your potato with you when you are ready to stop running.

Survival of the fittest. And everyone thinks I do these things because *I* am not the normal one. We’ll see about that when Armageddon comes and I’m the only one with a potato, running fast enough to escape the four horsemen because I had a headstart by rocking. Won’t you be sorry then?!

Let’s not even start with the fact that I now have two weapons – a potato and a fork. And if I don’t need weapons, I will plant the potato and rebuild society by growing potato shrubs. Or trees. Or whatever. What do potatoes grow on? Do they even grow or were they scientifically manufactured? Are they like crackers or like oranges? Potato trees, that is not something I’ve heard of too often. I’m not too sure about potato shrubs. ANYWAY, I will have one and whoever is left after Armageddon will have to make me their King because I will have the fork and the potato treeshrubbush.

I Am Not A Sellout!

December 24, 2010

Ok, so we all know I have issues buying books, right? I mean, I’ve covered that in other blogs. I now face the wrath of people calling me mean nasty names because I have a Kindle. This is my defense of myself and of the Kindle!

First of all, there comes a time when one has no more space for physical books. This does not mean one stops buying them, it just means one has to hide them in various places until one can find a place to put said books.

As I previously mentioned, if I like a book, I buy it on the Kindle AND in hardback, because I MUST HAVE BOTH. I want all my favorite books with me wherever I go, and I want to have the hardback on my shelves. And still, I get mocked and ridiculed and my status as a Book Person is questioned and even denied completely. There are tee shirts that tell me I am a bad person for owning a Kindle.

To the naysayers, I say…I say…well, I say something inflammatory and insulting, that’s what I say! Yes, I like having hardbacks, and yes, I have a ton of them. My dad’s exact words were “What? You put more books up there? The floor is going to cave in! Someday we are going to come home and find you in the living room when you meant to be in your room because you fell through the ceiling because those books weigh thousands upon thousands of pounds”. My response was that a) they don’t leave the house very often, so they aren’t going to “come home” to find anything, it will happen right in front of them; b) it will be my books that will fall through the ceiling, not me – I will probably have noticed creaking or a major dipping in the floor and I would have grabbed my cat and run by the time the floor actually caved in; and c) my library is not above their heads directly, it would just take out the couch and possibly part of the tv, so they really have nothing to fear. I digress.

I am more of a Book Person than someone without a Kindle. I can have as many books as I want at my disposal no matter where I am. Say I’m sitting in a room waiting to be interrogated by the FBI, and I’m with a Kindle-less person who mocks me for having one and not being a “true” Book Person. You know what I do? I take out my Kindle and read any of the thousands of books at my disposal while they sit there and watch me read. I will not deny that I must OWN BOOKS, but the thing that makes a Book Person a Book Person is that they READ THE BOOKS. Owning the books is a big part of it, but even bigger is the reading of the books. I can read more books at more times in more places than a non-Kindle user.

Are e-book readers going to put bookstores and real books on to the endangered species list? No! Duh! First of all, there are enough of us who MUST OWN BOOKS that we will continue buying them. Second of all, not everything is available as an e-book, unless you are my friend Tiffany who finds ways to make every single thing ever published be an e-book. Thirdly, the reason bookstores are closing is not because people aren’t buying books or because they are only buying e-books, it’s because Borders opens a store 2 miles away from another Borders, which is 3.5 miles away from another Borders, which is across the street from another Borders. Barnes and Noble does the same thing. They are competing with themselves, not e-books, and they are running themselves into the ground. They open more stores than they can support. So yeah, duh, they are closing stores. Not to mention, have you ever bought a book at Borders and then looked for it on It’s always going to be less expensive online. I hate seeing any bookstore close. Well, I hate seeing any store at all close because I anthropomorphize things and think that the store must feel really bad and be sad that it is closing.

Now let’s look at a company like, oh, say, Half Price Books. This is where I say that yes, I am an employee of Half Price Books, but my opinions and comments do not reflect that of the company, they are only my own opinions and comments. I also don’t necessarily have facts, just guesses, as to why HPB is such a success. But my guess would be that it’s because we don’t open 45 stores in one year, all within 10 yards of each other. We sell awesome books for cheap. We sell out of print books that you can’t find at a new bookstore. You can find things at a Half Price Books that you haven’t seen in 35 years because we depend on what people sell us, and people sell us some cool ass shit. They also sell us some dead mice carcasses, spiders, and unmentionables – but mostly they just sell us really cool books. Because we aren’t dependent on brand new books only, people keep coming back because you just never know what you are going to find. It literally changes on a daily basis. Oh, and one time someone sold us a box that was filled with live mice who decided to Run Free when they got to my store. I’d be totally cool with a live mouse, or a rat, or a pig or a ferret or a cat or a hedgehog running out of a buy, but one time I was looking through a buy and there was a roach this big:


I am not even kidding. I screamed like a girl and normally I’m not that bad, I can maintain my cool exterior while freaking out on the inside. But I screamed when I saw that thing and I had to run before someone smushed him because I didn’t want to hear whatever sound it made when it got smushed. And yes, there was flapping involved. Did you really even need to ask that?

So all that is to say, it’s not e-books putting anyone out of business, and I am not a sell out. Also, you should definitely check out the video that hopefully posted of my books, because it’s neat. I still have about four boxes of books to get onto the shelves, but that doesn’t seem like it is going to happen any time soon. Especially if I fall through the ceiling and land in the living room. My dad would be WAY pissed off if I fell through the ceiling and interrupted Judge Judy, oh my gosh. He actually probably wouldn’t acknowledge that I’d fallen through the ceiling until a commercial.

I Almost Dognapped Two Wolves

December 15, 2010

So I turn down the street near my house and here’s what it is like. The street, I mean, not the actual feeling of turning down the street. Ok, so you turn from a street that is actually a pretty busy one, considering the smallishness of the city I live in. So I turn from this somewhat busy street down a woodsy (but not really) wildernessy street. I say it’s not really woodsy because my city has chopped down all the trees, so it APPEARS as if you are driving through lovely woods, but if you walked ten feet into these woods, you’d end up at a school or a shopping center. Or my 7th grade history teacher’s house, actually. But anyway….

I turn down the street and there is a wolf staring at me. I’m not even kidding, it was a wolf, I swear. So I stopped my car and got out, and tried to get him to come to me. He did the puppy “play with me!” dive to the ground, and wagged his wolf tail, so I made myself sound very excited and said “Come on, wolf! Come in my car!” This made him run AT me, rather than “towards” or “near” me – but then he stopped and sat down in the middle of the street (the woodsy street, not the busy street). I felt that was unsafe, so I made more of an effort to get him in my car. Since he was just sitting there staring at me, not being excited anymore, I stopped being excited and I tried to reason with him. “You can’t be in the street, it’s dangerous, wolf”, I said. And I really did say that out loud. Most people think I’m kidding when I say I talked to an animal, but no, I talked to him out loud. “A car will come by and you may not see it” was my other attempt at reasoning with the wolf. He took that to mean “Go run really fast into the busy street”, and so that’s what he did. I flapped and did a minor retard dance, all while saying “BAD WOLF! CARS! BAD WOLF!”. And by “minor retard dance”, I don’t mean that it was an 18 and under retard dance, I mean I just did a small one.

So the wolf came back, but he didn’t come to my car, he went into the yard of a house that is on the corner of the woodsy street and the busy street. That’s when I noticed there was another wolf laying calmly in the driveway. So now I had two wolves, and that made me really excited, because I want a dog, and two wolves are by far cooler than one dog – and one dog is really, really cool. So I tried to reason with the more calm wolf, telling him it’s cold and I could provide him with food and shelter.

Spazzy wolf was running in circles around the calm wolf, and I think he might possibly have been making fun of me. “Look at the human when I run in the street! Watch what she does!” I didn’t judge him, though, wolves need their fun, too. It was when they both came to the edge of the driveway and barked at me that I started to think they might not be wolves, but German Shepard/Wolf Hybrids. They definitely had a German accent to their bark. I made more “Come on in! I’m fun!” motions to get them both in my car, but they simultaneously turned and RAN towards the semi-busy street.

I got back in my car and realized a guy in a truck had been watching me the whole time, and he just drove by me and stared while I stood there by my car.

I made a dramatic U-Turn (a 5 point U-Turn, no less), and followed to where I thought the German Shepard Wolves went. I couldn’t find them, so I turned and drove back, and there they were, sitting in the driveway I found them in.

It hadn’t occurred to me yet that they lived at this house, so I kept trying to dog/wolfnap them.

I failed again and Spazzy Wolf ran in to the street some more, and Calm Wolf just laid down again. Despite my earlier bad experiences with calling the police to save an animal, I called the police to see if they would save the wolves. I explained that the wolves were in someone’s yard, and I thought that maybe they lived there, but it didn’t look like the person was home, and so could the police come and take the wolves inside so that they wouldn’t get run over? They said “Wolves?” and I said “Yes, there are two of them”. They said “No, I wasn’t questioning the number, I meant, they are wolves and not dogs?” I told them my German Shepard/Wolf Hybrid theory and they said “I think they are just someone’s dogs, do they have collars on?” Yes, they did. “Wolves don’t wear collars, they seem to be dogs”. Ok, well fine, they are dogs, not wolves, but I told the guy he’d be surprised at how much they look like wolves when he sees them.

I waited in the parking lot of the church that is across the street from the Wolf House, and they sat there and stared at me. Then a police car came, and he rolled down his window and asked if those were the “wolves that were running all over”. I said yes, and that they weren’t running now, but that they had been. Then, because I think they sensed my efforts to help them and they didn’t want me to look any more stupid than I already was looking, the wolves got up and ran into the busy street.

I said “see, they are running”. The police officer said he would try to round them up and get them home so they didn’t get hurt, and that I should probably just drive home and not try to save them myself. He also said that if I caught them, I could not keep them, anyway (yes, I asked if I could keep them). I was relieved when he did not pull out his gun and shoot the wolves, but instead, drove slowly trying to catch them. I don’t know what happened after that, because I drove home like he told me to, but only after I was positive he wasn’t going to just shoot them.

When I got home I told my mom that we have German Shepard Wolf Hybrids in our neighborhood, and she said that they were just dogs, and that the people in that house are horrible and always have new dogs and they just leave them outside all the time. That part is true, because one time I was so mad that they had their dog tied on a really short leash in horrendously hot summer sun with no water that I went up and knocked on their door intending to tell them that I was an officer with the Humane Society and that I was going to take their dog away from them. And then I was going to take the dog. But they weren’t home, so I tried taking the dog without telling the people I was a Humane Officer, but that dog did not want me to take him.

My mom said she has seen those dogs outside running loose like that before, and that they are definitely dogs, not wolves or German Shepard Wolf Hybrids. I have never seen them, though, so I am almost positive she made that up.

I have dognapped one dog and one cat, and had an attempted dognap attempt with two other dogs. The first dognapping attempt was when I was driving by a house and I had chicken nuggets from Wendy’s, and a dog was walking down the sidewalk. I got out and tried to lure the dog to me with chicken nuggets, but he went into one specific yard and kept growling and barking at me. So I threw the nuggets at him to show I had food and that he could eat it. He ate them. Then his owner came out and yelled at me for feeding chicken nuggets to her dog.

The second time I actually did dognap the dog. He was tiny and walking through the intersection of the very same semi-busy street and semi-woodsy street. So I stopped my car, picked him up and drove away. I intended to keep him, but my mom made me tell the police that I had this dog, and they said the owner called and was chasing after the dog when she saw me dognap him. Then she said she didn’t want to keep the dog and was hoping I would, but he was her daughter’s dog, and she’d feel bad if she let me keep him, so she took him away.

I catnapped a cat who usually lives in a house but got out. He came right to me, so I picked him up and put him in my car and he stayed overnight at my house. I went back to the same spot with him the next day and he bolted out of my car and walked up to the door of his house, and I haven’t seen him outside since.

The last one was a Golden Retriever who ran through an actual real live city intersection, and I had donuts, so I offered him a donut and he got in my car. I also called the police then (this was a different city), and they said someone had reported that their Golden Retriever had run away. So I actually saved that one, but I wanted to keep him.

Oh and one time I had to call the police because a horse was walking down the street by himself. They said “Again?”, so apparently this horse often gets away and takes walks by himself.

That is all.

I Should Not Be Allowed To Interact With People Or Use The Internet

December 11, 2010

I have been trying for three days to upload this video of AJ and me (myself?) in our acting debut. It was actually a scene from The Owl and the Pussycat that AJ was working on with his acting coach. AJ said, hey, we need a chick for a few read thru’s. I said, hey, ok. Little did I realize I was actually meant to perform with AJ on a stage in front of people, and memorize lines, and wear my pajamas, and be a whore. AJ is an actor. I am not. I am a person who hides if anyone tries to look at me. This is not the best example of his work because the part we did was very dependent on Doris (me) being funny, psychotic and a whore. To see AJ’s real acting, you should go to

Anyway, uploading the video. I tried uploading it on here, and it said NO. YOU MAY NOT DO THIS. I tried it two more times, thinking I could trick the internet, but it still said NO. ABSOLUTELY NOT. So then I thought, I’ll upload it to You Tube and post a link! I AM SMART! I uploaded it to You Tube, which took all night, and when I woke up, I was all excited and I ran to my computer to see my video on You Tube. What did I see? I saw NO!!! YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO DO THIS! Today I tried splitting the video into three parts and putting them on here, thinking that smaller bits might be more acceptable to the Internet. The Internet, once again, said NO. So there’s no video up yet, but AJ will figure it out, and eventually you can see my really bad acting, lack of facial expression, and pajamas, all onstage, as a whore.

While I was arguing with the Internet about uploading a video, I was also making a very large purchase on E-Bay. I have not used E-Bay in many, many years. This means I have also not used Pay Pal in just as long. Did I remember that, and adjust things according to my new bank account and new address? Of course not – what did you think, I THOUGHT first?? So I purchased said Very Expensive Item using the Buy It Now feature, and I Pay Pal the guy. Key Bank, which I have not had an account with in over 5 years, didn’t really want to pay the man, but instead of just saying “You don’t have an account here, dumbass”, they said “You have to wait until December 14th.” I realized my mistake, and fixed the bank account and then paid the insane shipping fee. That went through just fine. But Pay Pal did not want to admit that I put on a new bank account and that it should stop trying to use the old one to pay for the Very Expensive Item. I did what any computer savvy, Internet Brilliant person would do. I frantically e-mailed the guy and told him what happened, and then I clicked Buy It Now on a SECOND Very Expensive Item of the same kind, thinking it will just bill me the right way for the first item. But no, that’s not how it works. I bought two Very Expensive Items. I paid for one, I have no idea which one but it doesn’t matter because they were the same Very Expensive Item, and now I have this other one dangling there, like, pay for me, bitch, you Bought Me Now.

I think I sent the poor man who is selling the Very Expensive Item about 15 frantic e-mails, all referring to myself as a dumbass. I am sure I have confused him and he doesn’t know what or how many to send me, and he’s probably foreign and doesn’t speak English well and I’ve represented our country poorly. I have no indication that he’s foreign other than that I spoke to two very foreign people on the phone today at work, so I just am assuming anyone who does not immediately understand me is foreign. You can just go ahead and insert your own sarcastic remarks here.

I am sure some people out there speak other languages fluently and here is what I want to know. You know how you could be talking to an Indian guy (from India, not here), and he can be saying words in English, but because of his accent, you have no idea what he is saying? Or maybe it’s just me with that problem. But I’m sure it’s not. Anyway, let’s say you spoke fluent French, but you have an American accent (we’ll say the Midwest/Cleveland accent, because I live here and we are known to have the least distinct accent of anyone ever in the world). If you speak French in France to French people with your Cleveland accent, is it hard for them to know what you are saying, even though you are saying the correct French words, because of your accent? Or is it because of your lack of French accent? Do I not understand Asian and Indian people because I do not have their accent, or because they do not have mine? I don’t know. Either way, answer the question about France.

What the hell, I can’t understand people from the Southern US half the time, let alone other countries. And Louisiana? Forget it

OMG I’m Spazzy and My Limbs Won’t Stop Moving

December 6, 2010

I am a total spazz today for no good reason. I feel like I need to run in circles, but I can’t because that would bother my dad, who is watching cowboy movies on “the television set”. All my dad watches are Judge shows and cowboy movies. Oh, and reruns of Law and Order. My dad’s collection of cowboy movies/shows on DVD is probably the biggest collection on earth.

But back to my point, I’m spazzy and need to do something other than rocking frantically back and forth and occasionally flapping. Right now those are my only foreseeable options. I totally just spelled foreseeable right on the first try. I did not, however, spell occasionally right on the first try. I also didn’t spell it right on the second or third try. I seriously hate that word. Another word I hate? Gravy. I just really hate that word with an intense passion. I also don’t like the substance that is gravy. Say the word out loud. SAY IT. Isn’t it horrible? Ugh, see, now I’m getting more spazzy and flappy because I’m thinking about gravy.

I want a dog. I want a giant dog. I want a Golden Retriever or a Newfoundland, and I want him to be BFFs with my cat. I think it would keep her young to have a dog around. This whole “I rule the house, watch me sprawl out and be leisurely wherever I want” thing has gone too far. She needs a BFF who will say “HA! You THOUGHT you could lie there, but I’m going to bother you until you move”. And then when it’s cold, they can snuggle together and that would be the cutest thing in the world. My parents say I can’t have a dog because I’m irresponsible and Not A Real Adult and that the dog would probably die, and if they weren’t around, my cat would probably die, too. I’d like to point out that Sabrina Von Squishy and I have been best friends since 1999, and I only moved back home in 2008 or somewhere thereabouts. Obviously, I did not kill Sabrina Von Squishy.

I bought these things at World Market and they are called Happy Hippo Biscuits. They are super good, but it makes me feel bad that I’m eating a Happy Hippo. Why would you eat someone who is happy?? Eat someone who is depressed, or about to kill themselves, don’t eat them when they are happy. That is ridiculous. Also, I don’t think real hippos are filled with vanilla and chocolate creamy goodness, and I have a feeling that creamy goodness is what makes the hippo so happy. Everyone likes to have chocolate and vanilla creamy goodness in them.

I just ran downstairs to my dad like a bat out of Hell and said “GRAVY” and he just looked at me for a minute and said “When are you going to finish your laundry, I almost tripped over it”. He was watching a cowboy movie.

I could go outside and build a snowman, but the last time I did that I couldn’t move my back for weeks on end. It made me come to terms with the fact that while I’m perfectly mentally capable of building a snowman, I am physically 90 years old and should not do that sort of thing. Also, I’d get all snowy and wet, which is fine if you aren’t cold to begin with, but I AM cold to begin with, so I don’t want to get more cold.

OMG – I totally cleaned off my car in the coolest way today. I have to park outside, so my car was covered in two feet of snow. I took a giant push broom and pushed all the snow off my car. It was clean in minutes! It ruled. My neighbors felt the need to comment on my methods, but I bet their cars weren’t cleaned as fast as mine. Of course, they all park in their garages because they aren’t a 34 year old add on to an established home that already has two cars in the garage.

Sabrina Von Squishy has spent the day in her cave underneath our chair that has a name that I forget. Something about royalty. It has a straight back and no arms. Anyway, there’s a nice space underneath it that is covered by these flappy things, and Squishy hides in there because it’s nice and warm.

I think I’ll go hide in the den until my dad has his designated Computer Time at 6pm and then I’ll leap out and see what he does. Ooooh, maybe I’ll even hide under the computer desk. That would be awesome.