So anyway, I was just reminded about Gizoogle.net. You know how there’s an International Talk Like a Pirate Day? Well, Gizoogle.net translates a website into (oh, what’s the best way to put this?) street speak. I just used Gizoogle.net to re-read the last two posts on my site here and it was hilarious. Two posts ago I mentioned that my black pants were headed to the big closet in the sky (what? I’m an atheist but my pants are Baptist) and Gizoogle translated that as “Yo Crazy-Ass black baggy-ass pants”.
How does Flava Flav know that my pants are baggy-ass?
Anyway, it’s pretty hilarious and I imagine it would make even the emo-iest of teenagers’ blogs hilarious too. Warning you now, it also makes my blog even more full of vulgarity (Translates “So, guess what?” into “Yo, Mothafuckas!”).
Seriously. Christmas is on a Tuesday this year. This isn’t a holiday, it’s playing hooky from work. Maybe I’d Understand Better if I Were A Christian, but I call shenanigans on Christmas on a Tuesday. So this week I get to work Monday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday? I had to work yesterday. I have to work tomorrow. Shuh-NAN-i-gans. Much like we observe Presidents Day, etc only on Mondays now as to experience the joy of a 3 day weekend, it’s time to make Christmas moveable. In fact, I feel it’s time that we as a nation embrace Christmas in July because December is really just Year End Eve in my industry so I spend the last week of the year working and hiding under my sofa. Plus, it would entirely remove the discussion about “How do we celebrate Christmas in schools?” because WTF, it’s in July now and no one’s in school in July. And finally, travelling in the winter time sucks due to snow, ice, the aforementioned year end, etc, but July is wide open.
You’re welcome, America!
Now on to more serious topics: On this, the holiest of Tuesdays, Gene and I are going to be enjoying a crock pot of Shredded Chicken Tacos as well as mashed potatoes and Elaine’s Famous Rum and Sweet Potato Casserole From AllRecipes. Dessert is TBD but my level of general crankiness suggests I should make a pan of brownies and keep them for myself.
You need new clothes. Your black pants are rapidly going kaput and even your trusty stash of $6 Old Navy tshirts is getting a little thin (impressive for shirts that were neigh on to see through to begin with).
That said, the first step in going clothing shopping is NOT buying a tshirt you saw on some random blog that proclaims “Fuck the Fuckers”. You can’t wear it to work. You can’t wear it to the grocery store. Or the mall. Or the movies. You can wear it to a death metal concert or to bed. And you don’t go to death metal concerts.
(when you’re not taking Ambien)
I kind of had a bad day on Friday that led me to not feel well all day Saturday due to it…it’s a hangover with an extra side of shame, so it’s really a Shameover. But Friday and Saturday nights were the first nights that I’ve slept without taking my precious Ambien. Something in the mix of all of this led me to have totally weird dreams, like in one I was at an airport with Gene and I went to get cash and ended up with extra tickets to go on a trip, so of course we had to bring along the big gay guy from Modern Family. And apparently we all lived in the airport and spent all of our time gazing at all of the dreamlike mall inside the airport. Unlike the regular things at airports, this was just bizarre stuff. The dream left off when the guy from Modern Family was trying to convince us to get pierced in surprising places. And then the dream changed to NBC but still with a bizarre shopping experience. I was thirsty and I found a drink made up of water, cream and bacon so I got a cup of that to drink but it had too much ice (as water/cream/bacon drinks will do!) and wandered all around the crazy shops in search of the right candy. I kept finding the perfect chocolates (the kind with bacon) but I couldn’t get them. And I still wanted more of the water/cream/bacon drink but I wanted to wait to get a refill when I found the right candy because refills were nine cents. And in the last dream, I was apparently engaged to Alec Baldwin (or Jack Donaghy from 30 Rock?) and I kept dragging him around all these fancy delis while he was trying to tell me things but I was concentrating on cheese. There were all of these magazines about starlets who’d recently died. I imagine the engagement is over now that the dream is over.
So that was my weekend, minus the Christmas party overconsumption, laundry, etc. Hope everyone is well.