As you may remember, I started a new job a couple of weeks ago, and I’ve abso-loving it so far. The people are great, I love how close it is to home, and my days FLY by! Seriously, before it felt like I was living in the land of 18 hour work days, and now I barely even have time to reach for a kleenex when I sneeze. I said barely people, gross as I may sometimes be- I do reach for a kleenex most of the time when I sneeze, especially when I’m in public. I even keep a bottle of hand sanitizer near-by for those close-nose-calls.

Although, speaking of sneezes, there was this one sneeze in my life that I am particularly proud of. We were at a house party so I made LA accompany me to the bathroom so we could have old-fashioned gal-potty time and discuss the actions of all the Douchengoyles at the party. (Julie mentioned it today, but just in case you missed it- “Douchengoyle” is basically the best word ever! It’s a combo of 2 of our favorite terms for ass-hat boys, “douchecanoe” and “gargoyle”.)

Anydouche, whenever I drink I usually have to sneeze a million times. Actually, I have to sneeze about 5 times after anytime I consume mostly ANYTHING. I have no idea why that is, but it’s quite annoying. I’m starting to think I have a wheat allergy, because it mostly happens when I drink beer or eat anything bready.

So I was sitting on the toilet (#1) when a giant sneeze started to arise from the deepest dark embarrassing parts of my body. I sneeze often, but I rarely have the types of sneezed that literally take over all of my abilities to do or think about anything else. This time though, the sneeze was all encompassing. I’m not sure if I had finished peeing at the point of combustion, but if I hadn’t it definitely shook my blatter clean. I’m fairly sure I didn’t even have to wipe for the next week. One hand was incapacitated with my drink, and the other with toilet paper, so I had no way to cover my mouth, or in this case, my nostrils. After all was said and done, I knew that a fair amount of mucus had made it’s way out of my body, I just couldn’t find where it landed. That is until LA reached for the doorknob to leave the bathroom. Ah yeah… it flew right across the room and landed perfectly square on the doorknob. I probably shouldn’t be so proud, but I kind of am, so judge if you want.

In other news, LA and I finally found some time to unpack a few boxes this afternoon, namely the ones with all of the books in them. It’s weird, for the last few weeks I have felt an emptiness inside of me that couldn’t put my finger on. It wasn’t until tonight when we finally got all of the books up on the shelves that we spent so many hours painting, that I finally realized that I was really missing my books. It’s been over 2 months since I’ve picked up a book to read, which is absolutely crazy for me… It’s not that even I miss reading all that much, although I suppose I do a bit, it’s more that books make me feel good, they make me feel comfortable and at home.

I grew up in a home where books were super important. There wasn’t a room in the house that didn’t have a bookshelf except for the bathrooms… though there were always plenty of books lying around in there as well. Both of my parents are huge readers, and there were weekends when I can remember everyone in my family sitting around in our perspective comfy-spaces with a good book. Even when it was time to eat, or if someone had to go to the bathroom, there was no need to put the book down, we would simply walk around with the book in hand, bumping into walls and each other as we tried to make our way around the house. I probably don’t own a book that isn’t stained with ketchup.

When I was a kid, my mom worked part time at a half-priced bookstore, so I spent much of my summer vacations and weekends there. It was the coolest little place. Each genre had it’s own room. The walls were covered with book and movie posters, and there was a huge section just for comics. I also spent a lot of time hanging out at the headshop next door, but that’s a whole nuther post.

So yeah… books make me feel good. Just having them around me. Plus there is something about owning a collection of anything, and books and movies are my two favorite things to collect. Whenever I get upset or anxious, I will spend hours reorganizing my books and DVDs.

But there is something else about books that I have missed, and since I’ve already gone to a TMI place tonight, I figure I’ll continue on with that.

JOHN CUSACK, If you’re reading… please stop now!

You see, I never really have problems with going… number 2. I keep quite a regular schedule, especially since I’ve changed my eating habits. But lately I feel that things have been a bit off… Then I remembered about the secret magical power that books have for me. I mean… All I have to do is look at a book and I feel like all my assues are solved. I literally cannot walk into a Barnes and Nobles without having to go-go. I have never been able to figure out if it’s the fact that I associate reading with going, or if it’s the smell of coffee… but it is the most natural laxative EVER!

Anyone else have this problem amazing miracle cure with books and bookstores?

And since we’re not on the subject, but ever so slightly related… I read about this really great product today. Whether you have a man or a dog, I think it could really be helpful…

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Well recently my aunt (whom I love dearly) has posted a few pictures on my Facebook page, which you may have already seen if you’re my facebook friend. If you’re not, feel free to add me now…

These old pics got me thinking thinking that maybe I should take you through a little hot tub time machine of my life… the good, the bad, and the completely awkward. So ummm let’s all get naked and go for a ride, shall we?

I don’t really understand the concept of baby time, so I have no idea how old I was here… but I’m going to go with baby. Maybe even newborn. I do know I was born with hair… so possibly?

Here I must have been a little bit older. Still have no concept of age, but it looks like maybe I was taking a first step or attempting it? No clue. Still, I don’t look so happy to be wearing a weird jumper thingie.

I guess I should count my blessings none of my baby-pics were taken with me in an eyepatch….

What appears to be shy and innocent, is in fact -never shy and innocent.

Ugh. Yeah.. I was a girlscout. Or “Brownie” or whatever we called them. Those cheeks are evident of the fact that I ate a lot of cookies…

Check out those Keds. And also that feather.

I wan’t homeless… this was just an “Annie” costume.

Things only got more awkward from this point… If you look closely, I needed to pluck my eyebrows at the ripe ole age of 7. Awesome.

(5th Grade) No wonder I didn’t have any friends… EEEEKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK What was I wearing mom? What was with that hair?

Ok… this was probably 7th grade. With the exception of the overalls…  I think I had a bit of an improvement.

I don’t have any pics to share with you at this time of me in between the ages of Jr High and Sr Year… but just imagine an awkward girl wearing either Umbros, Long Pepe shorts, or vintage clothes that had no business appearing in the mid-nineties, and you should get the picture.

The classic graduation pic. I can’t believe my 10 yr reunion is this summer. What in the hell?

So yeah. Thanks for viewing my lame post. I have shied away from posting old pics mostly because they’re awkward and yucky and I hate the and I think you probably don’t care… But I figured they were at my disposal, so why not?

And on a very similar subject, some of my bestest buddies, my old roommates whom (who?) (at this hour I don’t care) I miss  dearly just started a website, Relive the 90′s.com but it doesn’t seem to be working at this moment. So what you need to do is follow them on their twitter here.. and when the site becomes available, submit your favorite pic/memory/toy/movie WHATEVER you love and find near and dear… It was up and running earlier today, so hopefully it will be by now!

Happy Wednesday people!

Make sure you check out Lilu’s site, and check out her TMI Thursday archives for all sorts of hilarity!

Remember how a few weeks ago I told you that my friend Moops has been wanting to start a blog? Well he’s been working on it. He’s even written a few posts, but nothing is live yet- and he’s not sure he wants me to reveal him to the world just yet. However, I did convince him to write a guest TMI post for me since my life has just gotten absolutely crazy the last few weeks. Maybe after reading his awesomeness you can help me convince him that he needs to go public!!!

And without further adieu, I present to you: Moops…

I am about to share a most pathetic tale of over indulgence; this story goes down as one of the worst nights of drinking I have ever had!  Wait a minute, who am I kidding?  I have a resume full of bad nights…with references.

Let me preface the detail of this story with the fact that I am not a delinquent, I have a good job, I contribute to society every now and then, and all in all I’m a pretty decent individual; I just get really drunk from time to time.  I’m about to be 30; I feel that I am fast approaching (or have long past) that threshold where getting boozed up and stripping down to my boxers can be considered acceptable if not slightly amusing behavior (not that that sort of conduct is ever acceptable). In my opinion, drunken behavior is on sort of a sliding scale. For example, when you’re in college, you can get naked and jump on a pogo stick in the front yard and it’s cool; but as age increases, even the slightest drunken mishap can be highly inappropriate and or embarrassing, and for me- this seems to happen at an exponential rate.

And so the story goes.  Halloween 2009.  At the time I was dating a girl who’s birthday was at the end of October. It so happened that her roommate’s birthday fell right around the same time, so they decided to throw a sort of joint birthday/Halloween party.

The night went like this- keg beer, lots of keg beer, my consumption could probably have been measured in gallons; this was supplemented with a cornucopia of shots, you name it I drank it; and then there were the few games of flip cup I participated in. PERFECT, I was ready to go, nothing could stop me, time to hit the bars.

Bar # 1 – I was now at the level of intoxication where I think I am inherently wealthy and feel the need to buy a round of shots for everyone within a 10′ radius of me. I remember the first shot, rupplemintz – GREAT IDEA!

I don’t remember much of the bar scene after that initial round; but from some forensic investigating I conducted in the days that followed, mainly examining my three separate tabs (all different cards,) subsequent bars were visited and many shots consumed.

Fast Forward – A couple of hours later we were back at the house for the after party – yeah, this thing doesn’t stop.  I start emerging from my self induced anesthesia, good, I made it back in one piece, I even somehow managed to make it to the couch and lie down, WAY TO GO!  But wait a minute, it seems that the copious amounts of alcohol I had consumed over the last 12 hours combined with my horizontal position on the couch was making me a little nauseous, make that a lot nauseous, yep I was about to puke.  My body seemed to be paralyzed, so there I was, on this girls nice white couch vomiting a vile substance while a host of characters looked on. Some watched in amusement but most watched in horror (when I say characters I literally mean characters…it was Halloween).  29 years old, and I just puked on myself, just wait it gets better.  I was then thoroughly scolded and clumsily escorted upstairs and thrown into my girlfriend’s bed.

I did attempt one more trip downstairs for an alcohol fueled spirited conversation with my girlfriend, not sure what prompted this one.  There was one eyewitness account that I actually fell up the stairs (vs. down the stairs), pretty impressive.

My first lucid moments the next morning were a bit of a sensory overload; my head was pounding, my mouth was completely dry, my contacts were shriveled up like little raisins in my eyes, my body was totally void of any hydration and my pants were wet, OH SHIT!  MY PANTS…I PISSED THE BED!!!!!!!  At this point I quickly gathered my things, walk downstairs past all of the girls sleeping on a pallet and left, didn’t say a word to anyone.  AWESOME night!  Not only did I puke in front of everyone, but I pissed the bed too, definite high point!  It’s on my way home, with quite possibly the worst moral hangover ever, that I pulled my phone out and tried to make a call; it wouldn’t turn on, great.  You see, my phone was in my pocket when I passed out, it was around the pocket region of my pants that there was the highest concentration of urine; hence my phone not working.  I think I am the only person who has ever pissed on their own phone rendering it useless.

A side note:  Two days prior to the incident I had moved into a new apartment by myself, literally all I had was a bed (I do have furniture now – FYI), so not only did I not have any furniture or cable- but now I didn’t have a functioning phone either. Hungover- this is particularly  lonely and depressing state to be in.  I was forced to go to the Fiesta grocery store down the street to use the pay phone.

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At the very least, I would like for the entire world to realize that Nickelback sucks hairy balls!

You know what? That’s not even fair. I am not even going to pretend that I know enough about music to say that they are musically shitty, because I’m sure they have at least a little talent or they wouldn’t be winning Grammys and what not. I do know enough about hearing things to know that listening to Chad Kroeger sing is only about 3 steps away from being literally raped in the ear.

Which is precisely what has been happening to me all week.

I get it Jack FM. You play what YOU want. And that is the exact opposite of what I want about 17 times every day.

Every time I hear those first few chords and his whiny groan of a voice chime out with-”How the hell we end up like this?” a little part of me dies.

And yes, I realize that that this may seem a little hypocritical considering that am writing this a day after posting how horrible of a singer I am myself. But you know what? I don’t get paid millions and millions of dollars to entertain people with my voice. (Though I bet I COULD  get paid tens of dollars NOT to entertain my five co-workers in my office.)

It does please me to see that there really is a lot of Nickelback hate out there. I’ve probably  heard more people say that they hate Nickelback than I’ve hear people say they hate Kanye West. If all the hate, then why are they still all over the radio? I’m starting to be convinced that half the people who say they “hate” this band are just doing it to get on the hateorade bandwagon. Maybe it’s just become trendy to shout out your angst at a band whom you haven’t really even formed a proper opinion about and then go home and buy forty dollars worth of their music on itunes to see what the hate is all about, therefore leading the radio people to believe that people want to hear this Godforsaken music and cause them to play it all freaking day. (I only know this happens because I have fallen for it myself. Thank you Miley Cyrus.)

I’ll be honest. Maybe I haven’t given them a proper chance. It’s not like I’ve heard any of there songs besides the five that are played 13 trazillion times on the radio every day. Nor do I want to.

My hate comes from a very personal experience, one  not even related to their music, (though I still think their music sucks) one that Ive spoken of briefly before.

Back when I was in college, our football team made it to the playoffs  resulting in a bowl game in New Orleans. I was involved in  a drinking spirit organization that went to all the football games and drank cheered from the stands. During After the football game, I went down to Bourbon street to meet up with a friend who had moved away a few years before, and had also come in town for the bowl game.

We met at one of those little stands where they sell the big Hurricane drinks (you know those tall red drinks you can buy on the side of the street with an umbrella stuck in it??) We had  just retrieved our drinks (though I was probably already quite a few deep) when we decided we should take pictures to celebrate our reunion and to show off our Hurricanes.

There were three of us gathered and we all wanted to be in the picture, so I looked around to see if there was anyone around who I could trust to take it.

I approached a group of people nearby who were dressed anywhere from “homeless” to “douche-bag,” but seeing as there was no one else around, I decided to ask them anyway.

CJ: Would one of  you mind taking a picture of us? My friends and I all want to be in it?”

I spoke openly to the group. As I did, the group all shifted their attention to the homeless looking greasy man in the center, who was obviously their leader.

Homeless looking greasy man: “Well sure ladies, I wouldn’t mind that one bit.”

He left his spot in the group and walked past the camera that I held out for him.

CJ: Umm… Nervous laughter.…

Homeless looking greasy man: Where would you like me to stand? As he is already edging himself between my friends and I, putting his arms around our shoulders.

CJ: Tehhehee… actually, we were just gonna see if you could take a picture of us! We haven’t seen each other in a while and don’t really want a stranger in our picture.

The homeless looking greasy man was taken aback. He clearly thought we were joking until we had reposed without him and I was once again trying to hand him my camera.

Homeless looking greasy man’s group finally took notice of what was going on, and all at once started talking.

“Do you know what you’re doing?? one of them said. “That’s fucking Chad Kroeger!!!”

CJ: Okkkkkkk? (and why do I care?)

“The lead fucking singer for Nickelback you bitch.”

CJ: Ohhhhhhh yeahhhhh. (shit!… But still,  who cares? No reason to act like an asshole.)

Homeless looking Greasy man AKA Chad Kroeger: Fuck you, Fuck you bitches.

Then we laughed and ran away as fast as we could.

Looking back, I can understand that he may have been embarrassed to assume that we wanted a picture with him.

Regardless, to tell someone “Fuck you” for not recognizing you? Add in the ability to kill small children with the sound of your voice?

Suck it, Chad Kroeger. I’ll never forgive you.

*Please imagine these “cheers” as being of the beer or shot variety. You know, the kind where you raise your glass, then tap it on the table before you take a sip. The other night my friends and I made the mistake of doing the “table tap” with a glass of champagne, and it just didn’t feel right.

Cheers to fall. And more specifically October. Tis one of the two months of the year where the weather is nearly perfect round these here parts. I love everything about fall. I love watching the trees change, I love not sweating my ass off when sitting on the porch, and I even like “watching” a football game every once in a while. Also, my hair seems to do particularly well in this fine weather.

Cheers to Halloween. Halloween, though it technically could fall under the larger umbrella of fall, is so awesome that it deserves its own cheers. In fact, some people really get into  decorating their houses for Christmas, but I would really like to push the less popular trend of decorating houses for Halloween. How great would it be to drive around looking at scary decorations? I’m thinking if you really put your heads together with your neighbors, every neighborhood could be like a giant Haunted house.  I also really love carving pumpkins. Scrap that. I like to watch as other, craftier people carve the pumpkins, but I like to be the one who pulls out all of the gunk.

Cheers to socks. I am the queen of flip flops, but there is nothing like the feeling of putting on a pair of fuzzy socks, a pair of sweats, and curling up under a cozy blanket. It’s finally the time of year where I don’t break out into upper lip sweat from just looking at socks.

Cheers to the Backstreet Boys. I’m not really a fan, but I have to give these boys some props for their comeback effort. I haven’t listened to pop music in years, but there is a little bitty section in the left corner of my heart that still has some boy band love. I really really had a thing for NSYNC, but I guess The Backstreet Boys is the next best thing. Plus, there is something about old guys singing and dancing like they are still in their late teens/early twenties that just makes me smile.

Cheers to New Kids On the Block. Because I can.

Cheers to getting to dress like a zombie. Ok, I realize I am getting a little specific here, but I  feel it’s my duty to  give these things the justice they deserve. Respect, people. I know most girls (and some boys I know) like to dress a little slutty for Halloween. I understand the logic behind it. It is after all, the only day of the year where you can go out scantily dressed without people actually thinking you are a hoe. I think it might be my upbringing, (I was started on horror movies at a very young age) but Halloween just isn’t as fun unless I dress scary.

Last year I was Regan Macneil from The Exorcist

I thought I had more pics on-line of Halloween costumes past, but I guess I deleted them. All you have to know is that I was pretty much dead or possessed for the last few years. This year my friends and I are dressing up as Ghouls Gone Wild. I asked my roommate J. how I should make scary saggy boobs for the costume, and he told me I should just go without a bra. Thanks friend.

Cheers to yummy beer. Can I raise a glass of what I’m drinking, to what I’m drinking? Sure I can. YAYYYYYYY beer! There is something about the weather change that really makes a beer more appealing.

The best beer in Texas... or at least the cheapest.

Cheers to good music on long walks outside. I know I’ve may have taken this “fall” thing a little far, but it really has been amazing. I get so sick of working out at the gym with all those chode heads, so it has been a really nice change to take advantage of the 9 mile trail by my house. Never mind that I will probably never be able to go all 9 miles without dying. Still, there is something to be said for walking outdoors, watching families play football and seeing all the cute puppy dogs. Yesterday I saw a guy on a bike whose bra was clearly visible through his white t-shirt. Yes, I saw a guy wearing a bro. That was possibly the best thing I’ve seen all month, but I don’t really see the problem with it. If ya got em’, support em’! I have to also raise my hand to good music on this one. There are certain songs that I literally have to stop myself from skipping along to. One of my favorites to work out to lately is Umphrey’s Mcgee.

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Cheers to old friends. I absolutely love my friends. Last weekend, my friend LA cleaned out her closet and gave me 7 pairs of Banana Republic pants that she has grown out of, and a pair of Sevens jeans. I literally didn’t have any pants to wear this winter, and she has saved my life. The company she works for, Philip Stein, is also announcing their sleep bracelet today which I am really excited about. You’ll have to google it yourself for the details, but from what I hear- it is a bracelet that has been compared to ambien in its ability to help you get some zzzzz. Doesn’t seem possible, but we shall see.  It was so nice to catch up last weekend with people who I haven’t seen in a while.

My friend Moops has recently been reading this a little more often, and I think he deserves a shout out. Don’t tase me for this, bro.

Ohhhhh... the moment you realize the shirt you tried to steal has Carebears on it.

Cheers to new friends. I’m talking to you, fellow bloggers and people of the internet. I am really beginning to love this part of my life. You have made me laugh so many times in the last few weeks, and I am really enjoying this new journey!

I have told you before that technology hates me. Like, bad.  I pick up a phone, and it loses service. I sit in front of a computer, and it completely quits working. Since I’ve been at my current job, (for a year and a half) I’ve gone through 3 computers.

3 computers. One which was brand new.

I’m sure my bosses think I’m on porn sites all day contracting computer AIDS, purposely sabotaging my computers so I have an excuse not to work. In actuality, I have NO FREAKING IDEA how or why these computers keep breaking on me. I treat them well. I run anti-virus programs regularly, and I’m very careful about what sites I go to. The only reasonable explanation that I can think of, is that I have been possessed by a frequency demon. I’m not sure it is actually a frequency demon. It may be a computer demon or a technology demon, but I personally think frequency demon has a better ring to it.

But I digress.

I will state for the record now, I am in no way responsible for my current state of, yet again, being without a work computer.

I’ll start from the beginning. (Imagine the following told to you in a ghost story voice. It’s not the most exciting story ever… but I think that will help.)

Last Friday was a normal day at work. It was rainy, and I was planning on leaving early to head to Austin to see my little sister.

As usual, my bosses left (even earlier) to go either hunting, golfing, or fishing… I forget which- on this dark and foreboding day. As usual, I cleared my internet history and shut my lap top down before I headed out.

*Side note- I actually have two work computers. My desktop has Vista, and the marketing software I use, naturally does not work on Vista. Therefore, my bosses begrudgingly had to get me a second computer to use for marketing purposes. A computer which I need in order to get anything done.

Monday morning I came back into work. It was still raining, and I was in a particularly foul mood. The bosses were going to be out until Wednesday, but regardless, since I had left early on Friday, I had plenty of work to do. The early morning was business as usual. I updated the blog, checked my email, and caught up on my friend’s weekends via facebook. Around 10:00 am I turned around to start up my laptop and get started on some mailings.

DUN DUN DUN….

The laptop…. was gone.

At this point I actually didn’t think much of it, and I was a teensy bit excited that I DID have an excuse not to spend the rest of my day swamped with the monotonous task of sending out mailings. The bosses have taken the laptop with them on their hunting trips before, (as my screen saver slide-show of dead deer proved) and I figured that they had taken it again to showcase their killings. Plus, the case was gone- so I was confident that they had packed it up, because the case was nowhere near the actual computer. So I spent the next two days outwardly cursing my bosses for leaving me bored and with nothing to do, but inwardly thanking the heavens that I had extra time to do as I pleased. By late Tuesday though, I was as bored as I have ever been on a 13 hour road trip with my parents. I was racing to answer the phone. Giving insurance quotes never seemed so fun.

First thing Wednesday morning when the bosses returned I popped right in their office to ask for the laptop.

Boss: Distracted that I’d come in without knocking “Ummm… OK.. we’ll get it for you.”

I returned to my desk and about 5 minutes later I was called back into their office.

Boss: “Did you say something about the laptop?”

Me: “Umm yeah… I need it back, so I can… do some work.”

Boss: “Well where is it?”

Me: “Uh… umm… you… have it?”

Boss: “Noooooooo…..”

By this time, everyone in the office (all 6 of them) were up and in the bosses office, eager to know what we were discussing. I explained how I thought that they had taken the computer to put their pictures of bloody deer on, and they acted surprised at the prospect that I would think they would do such a thing. There was no sign of foul-play. No broken windows. Nothing else was missing. We looked in every drawer, under every desk, and in every corner of our tiny office. They asked me about five times if I was sure I didn’t accidentally take it.

Oh sure, I packed a laptop and carried it out without realizing it.

Did I? I seriously started questioning my sanity. I clearly remember leaving the office and driving straight to Ft. Worth to meet up with my friend LA, and we headed to Austin as soon as I got there. But what if I had a crazy drunk ambien moment and drove back to Dallas, stole the computer, and drove back to Austin without even remembering it?

Ok, even I am not that crazy.

The bosses called the cops and talked in length to the owner of the building. They all concluded that, besides the cleaning ladies who the building-owner fully trusts, there is no way that anyone could have gotten into our office without a key.

Its been nearly a week now and there are no new leads. Oh sure, there have been the daily jokes… “So Carissa, if you just bring the laptop back- no charges will be made.” Or the ever so clever, “So, hows that laptop treatin you? You sure were smart in stealing your own work computer to have an excuse not to work.”

I’m over this shit. Even if they decide to get me a new computer, it will take me at least a week to get everything set up again… that is if my software is even compatible.

So I’ve decided to take matters in my own hands. Seriously, I’m thinking of coming to work tomorrow donning a trenchcoat and very large pipe. I WILL get to the bottom of this.

In other words… To whoever is out there, typing away on my work laptop. I hope you are enjoying yourself right now. Because in the very near future (*shaking fist) “I’M GONNA GET YOU!!!!!

Oh Seinfeld, my Seinfeld- how I need you in life
Though you went off the air 11 years ago
I still watch you in syndication every night.

You may have been a show about nothing-
But your lessons were never in vein-
In fact, my one true goal in life
Is to be just like George, Jerry, Kramer and Elaine.

Jerry always told his jokes,
Keeping his friends up in a riot…
Just don’t make him wear a puffy shirt
Because of course- “I don’t wanna be a pirate!”

George, he never did anything right,
Constantly getting himself into trouble
He would con anyone- in any situation-
He once even cheated in a game-with a boy in a bubble.

Elaine was somewhat of a serial dater
She’s so cute with her hair all curly…
She once slept with Jerry just to save the friendship-
But just once, because he wasn’t “sponge-worthy.”

Kramer, he always had his schemes-
A pizza place where you put your own topping on the dough
A coffee table book about coffee tables,
And of course you can’t forget the “Manzierre,” or was it the “Bro?”

The gang always met the strangest people
Some who were really off their rocker
In my life I can’t say I’ve known anyone quite like
The high, the low… or the close talker.

Every week was a new adventure,
George takes of his clothes to go poo!
I just won’t follow their lead when I’m ordering lunch
Or I might just hear
NO SOUP FOR YOU!!!

George found the negative in any situation
While Jerry made fun of anyone human,
But if there ever was anything fishy going on-
I’ve got just one word for you-
NEWMAN!

These Pretzels are making me thirsty-they said
And Festivus is the best Holiday…
If you ever have trouble finding Co-Stanza
Then look for an architect, named Art Vandalay.

Yada yada yada, Seinfeld was the best
I’ve got so many memories locked up in the vault
George, Jerry, Elaine, and Kramer -don’t you ever change
I love you, my show without a plot!

*Note- this was originally a piece I did for a monologue show a few years ago, thought I’d share!

I had heard so much about Inglorious Basterds, I couldn’t believe it could possibly live up to all the hype.

How very wrong I was. I don’t have the time right now to get out a full review, and I’m still digesting some of the gory details- but at this point in time I must say that this is my favorite film of the year thus far.

It’s just as bloody as everyone says it is, but I think it works. Brad Pitt was excellent as the lead Basterd, bringing out a character like I haven’t seen him do since 12 Monkeys.  Christoph Waltz, a German actor who plays the evil yet cunning antagonist Nazi- Colonel Hanz Landa- really stole the show for me. I’m gonna go out on a limb and say I will shave my head if he doesn’t get an Oscar Nom this year. I’m that sure. I said the same thing about Mickey Rourke last year and Javier Bardem the year before so I’ll go ahead and just make this a tradition of being correct.

My other favorite part of the movie was Eli Roth who plays Donny Donowitz, other wise known as the “Bear Jew” who made a name for himself bashing Nazis heads in with a baseball bat. I know people out there have some hate for Eli Roth, but he is probably one of my favorite people on earth. In case you are unfamiliar, Roth is best known for directing the horror gore movies Cabin Fever and Hostel. He’s most often called a hack, but I tend to think differently. His B style films are intentional, and after watching the director’s commentaries, all of the extras on the dvds, and any interview I could find on the interweb, I’m positive that any time you laughed or have guffawed at a scene in one of his films, he wanted you to feel this way.

Plus he’s a hottie. But that aside, I think you can really see the influence Roth has had on Tarrentino in Ingourious Basterds. But enough about that. All I can really add is that even if you are not a Tarrentino fan, or if you think this looks too much like a “guy” movie for your taste- give this movie a chance, it will blow your mind.

And now I must be going for I have some plans for this evening.

I am now going to admit something to you now, something I usually lie about or promptly change the subject when it comes up. I’ve never seen Pulp Fiction. I know. What in the hell am I doing calling myself a film buff? Its not that I had no desire or anything- its just that sometimes when everyone and their dog says a movie is their favorite of all time, I’m scared that I’ll see it and then to fail to understand what all the love is about. I kind of made a vow never to see this or Saving Private Ryan.  I think now it is time I break my vow, at least the half involving Pulp Fiction.  I loved Inglorious Basterds that much.