sheesh

some people can be very manipulative (that's you, random commenters as of late). and because you have been deprived of my fantasticalness for so long, i have stopped in to wish you a merry one. or two. or three. whatever. just don't let me find you with your head in a toilet during this most wonderful time of the year (sharda). maybe if you're caught being really nice, i'll start posting again... but knowing you people, that's just not gonna happen is it. enjoy!

i've been lax

and, this is still not me posting a real post.

i was just in my gmail, composing email, when i noticed something peculiar. maybe you won't think it's peculiar. i think it is. i guess it's because i can't help but wonder, "how am i not somehow involved with this?"

i do not cheat on people or things, usually

i mean, i'm not married and i don't have an official boyfriend so i can't cheat. i don't have anyone to cheat on. except for like, now. i feel like i've been cheating on my blog with twitter.com. please go check it out if you don't know what it is yet. it's like a blog except not quite. after a few weeks of use, i've decided that it's a lite blog that you post one-liners to from your phone via text (from anywhere) and it's awesome. you can talk to yourself in your text messages. how cool is that?

i'm in there via rachel fitzwater. my address is below. and fyi, there's nothing to "get". once you go to the site and read some stuff, you'll be all logical and question what the h you're looking at. but don't do it. it's literally nothing. you just talk to yourself while others read it from a far and instead of composing a blog post, you can just text one in from the old cellular telephone. do it, people. it's fun.

http://twitter.com/rachelfitzwater

i want to live in the tbs show 'my boys'. pretzels are good.

stuff and things

now that i'm feeling a little better, i would like to say a few words about max. he was one of the greatest animals that will ever walk the planet and he was my oldest friend. we were pals for 15 years. i'm about to turn 30 so our time together equates to half of my life. after i heard the news, i wasn't sure what to do so i pretty much did nothing. for hours. later that day, i hugged a box of his milkbones for 2 minutes because i still had them in my cabinet next to the cheerios and hugging that box made sense because obviously i could never hug him again. i miss him a lot. it's hard to lose your dog.

so thanks to the friends who left kind sympathy in my comments. for jeremy, i'm still debating whether or not to ban you from commenting here in honor of max. max would've given jeremy a kiss to get him to stop doing something he didn't like. i may ban him from commenting. we will see. i may change my mind and do what max would've done (and be nice, not actually kiss jeremy).

on to other matters. remember this one? well, it's been backfiring. i'm being passively stalked via text message and it's effed up. you see, he's kind of a d-bag. i told the kid i just wanted to be friends after he started being mentally young and an idiot. and also, he's bored/boring and alone in a new town so... you do the math. i generally get a text at the most inopportune of moments and it's generally inappropriate. i think it's because he's a d-bag. i tried to snap a picture of the one i received last night but my camera couldn't capture it in the way we needed for this medium. it's inappropriate and dumb because a) we never did it and b) we never talk. it goes like this (and i quote):

d-bag: wanna have sex later

me: ew. no

rest in peace, little max.

some thoughts i have for youz guys

1. a-ha - 'take on me' is the greatest music video to ever grace our faces. it might also be the greatest 80s song to ever do that as well but i can't make that declaration right at this moment. that would be complicated and bold and it's getting late and i've had "some" wine.

2. if you watch airplanes approach the airport at night like i do sometimes from my giant windows, you'll notice that they much resemble unusually large, illuminated phallics. i just used that word however i wanted. conversate is another word i do that with because i do what i want.

3. i would go live here in a heartbeat, tomorrow, if they would have me.

4. wolf spider count '07 = 2. wolf spider decessions count '07 = 2. they had to die and deep down, i kinda think they wanted it that way because they are dark, sick, and twisted.

4. steph and sarah will lick your eye if you are not careful. so, i would be careful unless you want that.

tuh-may-toe, ta-mah-toe

hey so, why am i the only one on the planet who loves tomatoes? like, i effing love them. i love roma, heirloom, yellow, grape, cherry, sun-dried, you name it, tomatoes. i am to the point of obsession where i could tell you the difference between them in a blind taste test - not that you would care or be able to determine if i was even right because you hate them so much. and you know what? they hate you. maybe quit growing them in your garden.

some people i know are obsessed with drinking water. i agree that this is a worthwhile cause and i partake as much as one can. i'm just saying, tomatoes. sure, they ooze and gush when you take a bite. that's all just part of the magic. we all know you've had way worse oozy things in your mouth.

my neighbor threw two at me yesterday for my burgers because he knows, nothing's better than premium burgers hot off the grill, draped in thin slices of succulent, red, coolness. seriously. what's wrong with you. they are both delicious and nutritious. hello. lycopene. where are you getting your lycopene. you probably aren't. good luck with that.

i would say more but you'll be dead soon from lycopene deficiency so i won't.

now let's go melt some faces

ok. i know you're like me. you know tons of people. i know tons of people. let's make magic happen with all the people we know.

i would like to "get to know" one of the following handsome, gentle, kind, young, boys next door types. i would for you to help me, help you, help me get in touch with one or all of them. here they are in no particular order - ryan reynolds, jesse bradford, adam brody, cappie from greek, josh duhamel, or jerry o'connell if you can make it so that he stops loving his brand new wife for me. it's hollywood and it could happen. and way sooner than you think. so yeah. let's get "our" networks in gear and get one of these hot, hot men in my great room. stat!

i know. i know. you're wondering where the wisdom and truth happens in this one. well, friends, it happens right here. with your help, we can all learn just how powerful networking can be when i finally get the chance to delicately entice jonathan bennett in several inappropriate ways this blog should not disclose. i gotta keep this place safe for the minors. oh, minors. do not add any minors to the list because that would be a list of boys we would not be tracking down unless you have devised a machine suitable for time travel, in which case, we would now have a whole other list that would need to be attended to, my friends. and if you were holding out on me with news of your time machine... i would be all kinds of hurt. but the wine would help. all the expensive, dry, red, red wine would help.

bing bong

when i was growing up in big don's house, she had a rule that stuck with me (among hundreds that did not); always, always call before you try to stop at someone's house unannounced. whenever the bell rang, we were not allowed to answer it unless we had previously received a call on said visit. it was very annoying to me and my sister because we just wanted to answer the effing door in case a boy was trying to visit us (usually not though as most people feared big don like they feared heights or ice cream trucks). then one day, a switch flipped in our brains and we didn't move an inch if doorbell ringing was not preceded by telephone ringing. it's like our big don programming just all of a sudden kicked in, never to be undone. i think she wanted us to be the types of people that didn't jump at the sound of a bell or car horn. done and done, big d.

which brings me to today. i personally don't answer the door when it rings because 4 times out of 5, it's a jesus person trying to sell jesus to me and if i move off the sofa to find that it isn't mr. fantasy arriving to whisk me off to vegas, i'mna get violent. if my mom or sister are in the driveway, my phone immediately starts ringing and then it's drums of fun for hours. and hours.

i guess the moral of the story is that i think this is a suitable tradition in our modern day and age. call people before you ring their bell because if ya don't, they may have to get up off the sofa and answer the door to find someone trying to sell jesus to them (because you probably won't be just ringing peoples' doorbells at 9pm on a thursday night if you're not). think if it was you. you would be pretty annoyed to journey all the way to the front door for THAT. also, what if they're indecent? you probly don't wanna see that shit. unless of course it's ryan reynolds hanging out all by his lonesome wearing only a pair of worn in jeans so you show up all soaking wet in nothing but a trenchcoat, holding a sizable... wait. that's neither here nor there. next time, maybe just try txting/ringing before you ding. wisdom and truth '07.

come to me, cover me, hold me

i'm hungover. here's what's been going on in my life:

a) i've been playing golf because i rule at it:















b) chop at poker trying to entice okayseriously to come over and join the fun (to no avail):















c) hot vendor guy and i at erasure concert where they had giant condoms on the bar for the taking; here's what tequila shots and chains of love looks like:















d) indians game with new employer - workin pretty hard in my sweet seats:















e) karaoke revolution - how can i be so freaking good at this:














and i love that new show greek. you should so watch it.

what is wrong with you

why are you so attracted to rob schneider? he's little and kinda hairy. i do not know what your deal is, but i am amused. i mean really. deuce bigalow, male tasty. what? you have issues. get some help.

margarita jug going well. thanks for asking.

you're a lazy hor

no. wait. i'm a lazy hor. i will be on vacation soon so that's me. not you. sorry for any hardships my title may have caused.

while i'm not working for the man, i will be enjoying my life for a change. i was just thinking of activities for a suitable agenda and luckily, i was able to throw some things together. have a look at what i'm thinking thus far:

some time after 7am - awaken
some time after i awaken -drink delicious coffee
some time after drinking delicious coffee - dress in suitable clothing
some time after dressing in suitable clothing - drive to gc for some number of holes (golf. what other kind would i be trying to drive into)
some time after suitable amount of hole driving - return home and lose 90% of clothing, text boy toy
some time after losing clothing - lay poolside with pre-made margarita jug
some time after being kicked out of neighborhood pool - return home for nap
some time after waking from nap - play ddr in my kitchen and kick its ass
some time after kicking ddr's ass - conduct 80s dance party in aforementioned kitchen
some time after bitchin 80s dance party - pass out on cold kitchen floor
some time after kitchen floor pass out - relocate to first floor bedroom, adjacent to kitchen
some time after relocation - awaken sometime after 7am

it's a lather, rinse, repeat. i think it's a winner. i didn't want to cloud the agenda with too many details, however, there will be time for blogging. i don't want anyone to feel left out of my time off. i want you to feel left in.

because i'm still dedicated to dotting your lives with wisdom, here's a snap of the safety precautions that arrived alongside of my ddr dance pads. you guys be sure to avoid strong jump or shake because i worry about ya when we're not together.

smooth operator

there is 1 reasons for my coolness as of late. yes, yes. you are correct - i was always cool and always very operatively smooth. however, i did 1 extra cool things in the last 3 days, which i will share with you momentarily.

but first, i would like to take this time to speak about DDR, aka 'dance dance revolution'. i possess this treasure and wanted you to know that DDR extreme 2 is way easier than DDR max 2. DDR max 2 will kinda kick your butt. f. y. i. if you happen to be peeping into my kitchen like the peeper that you are, you will find me in there dancing like i have no tomorrow. it's ok. i want you to watch. keep doing it.

now for my coolness. i'm sharing this with everyone because i want it to take hold and gain in popularity so others may enjoy the fruits of this labor. it all went down friday afternoon at happy hour. i was with horface and special dark. chop, scott, and keith had just hit the road. we were chilling with our summer ales; sarah with her vodka cran, when i noticed a handsome young gent seated at the bar that was just across the aisle. he was totally my type so i couldn't stop sneaking stares. about 15 minutes later, his pal showed up - also totally my type. if you know my type, you're wondering why it's even my type. if you don't know my type, it's a skinny, light-haired, dude with glasses. he and i were catching a glimpse every few minutes and i think we made eye contact twice.

so the old staring competition went on for about 25 minutes when i decided that i was going to do something as my time at this bar was soon to end. after all, it's rare that i happen upon one of these specimens even once a year. this is when i let horface and special dark in on the fun. i disclosed my move; "the sbc slider" - sbc standing for "strategic business card". i was going to write my cell digits alongside a clever little message and pass it to said dude upon my exit route. horface and special dark approved and felt that my plan was surreal and usually only seen in movies. indeed. by a show of comments, who has ever done this or had it done to them?

the plan was thrown into action as we made our way out of the bar, me trailing in last position. he stirred a bit as it was clear that we were leaving. now for the magic: i kinda slid up to him, touched his arm, and slid my clever little message card into his bar space while i muttered "hey, here you go", and just continued out of the establishment without a second look or thought. seriously, how james bond is that.

well party people, mr. michael business card called danielle approximately 24 hours later. yeah he did. we're havin drinks this week. i recommend this tricky trick if you can't bear to leave the venue where the cute person is and not make sure they have your number. it was pretty liberating knowing that he had my digits and that was all i could do. i didn't have to wonder what could've happened because i knew he would call if he could. and if he couldn't, i did what i needed to do.

heed. pants. now.

so hi there. i've been racking my brain for nuggets of wisdom and coming up dry. part of the problem with the new wisdom and truth platform is that i decided to implement it at a time when i've essentially stopped drinking as well. there's nothing interesting happening around here unless i'm drunk. we can throw that "you have a drinking problem" crap out the window. life's a little more interesting when you're high on alcohol or cigarettes. trust me. well, i mean you know. you see the frequency of posts when i'm dry. what do you think?

my friend tim asked me why i haven't been drinking. like, he said, "why, danielle? why no drinks anymore?" he asked because a) i used to drink a lot and b) i'm still as unhappy as i've ever been with my life. i thought about it for a while and said, "i think i'm not drinking because i'm sad and depressed." he said, "but sad, depressed people drink. a lot. like, it gets dangerous."

so, in light of my friend tim's wisdom, i'm going to be kicking it up a few notches again. i'm going to start drinking more than just a glass of wine or a bud light. i'm going to have a few glasses of wine and a few bud lights (all in the same effort). and, then i'm going to top that off with a menthol light(s) that i will probably purchase from chop's neighbor who rolls them by hand in his garage so as to cheapen the expense of the ones you buy at the store. he can make his own for a $1 a pop. he now spends $600 a year on cigs instead of $3600. i commend you, tall bob. good show.

there's your truth. roll your own cigs. then sell them to me for a $1. also, drink while you smoke. and maybe don't let your kids get their wisdom and truth from here.

dear aunt nancy

i heard you're under the weather. i want you to feel better soon. please do so at your earliest convenience because when you hurt, i hurt. :(

love,
danielle

flapjacks. and tampons.

firstly, i'm going to try something different here at cheesecakepot. i'm going to begin imparting wisdom and truth into your asses, but not in a gross way. i hope to ensure that each post provides my readership with meaningful facts and figures on important matters in life so that you may live yours in a more effective manner.

secondly, tampons changed my life. once i started using them, i discovered that i no longer had to frivolously misemploy my sacred, high school swim class sick days. man, was i burning through those suckers. once the teeps were onboarded, life was smooth sailing and i would never again have to hear ms. patti gatti shout, "danni! get in the pool!". some days you just didn't want your perfect hair to get all jacked up. i know you know. with tampons, i was finally in a position to leverage such predicaments. you may pass this information along as needed.

thirdly, i would like to discuss pancakes. for years i've had strong feelings regarding the extras culinary masters have embedded into these flat yet fluffy blankets of bread-like bread. i've had them with blueberries. i've had them with apples. i've had them with chocolate chips. i've had them with bacon strips. i've had them on a plane and i've had them on a train. i've had them with jam and i've had them with pam; i do not like them sam i am. now for your wisdom and truth; pancakes need to be left in their plain and natural way so that we may enjoy them with assorted syrups and butters of our choosing.

and that is what i have for you today.

how tampons changed my life

seriously. i think it's time i told you about this. if you just yakked all over your desk, i'll come clean it up. wait. that's gross. you clean it up.

no i know. i know. where the h have i been. did the old mafioso really steal me away to the caribbean. did i die. did i finally start to dance for money. did work really chew me up and spit me out a 40 story skyscraper window and leave me as goop on the street below (well, yes as a matter of fact). did i forget that i had a blog; or worse, a faithful blog readership. no. no is the answer to six of the seven questions.

please accept my sincere apology.

so what happened here - i grew more disappointed in myself than one should ever and it was dark and cold and hollow and empty. that's what happened here. and when you find yourself in this state that you and solely you helped yourself into, you hit the distilled grapes and safety of your giant sofa and pajamas (or really just the same few articles of clothing, repeatedly). hard. there are still good days and bad days, but overall, i think the worst is behind me. if you ever want to hear this story's highlights, come to cleveland, hit ciroc, i'll speak at length, you can ask if i'm really telling the truth. we will explore our depths together and discuss our feelings. let me know if this is a party you want to be at and i'll assign roles for everyone upon arrival. check.

i do feel very badly about how i disappeared for ages. the fact of the matter is that my work situation really did turn into something dark and cold to me and then, when i did have an official, true shot at escaping, the new employer really effed my shit up good (pardon the french grammar). that's what i've been doing since mid-january; trying to get back to good. i might be just about back and that's why i'm here to apologize and start the literal expression once more. there was much vodka and much nelly furtado 'say it right'. no-oh you don't mean n-uh-thin at all to me-ee... (not you though. the people at place of employment b)

so i'm back and i'm better and i'm here to rock you like a hurricane. forgive me and we can have a kick-off and get this place all crazy-face delicious again.

old men find me to be somewhat of a sexpot

wow you guys. it's been a rough couple of weeks. all i wanted to do was hide in my giant sofa by the fire with a glass of old vine zin, watching college basketball in the 9 degrees of icy chill cleveland's been offering me. and by that i meant, vodka with olives 80s dance party in my kitchen. curses. i can't lie to you people. instead of the comfy chair goodness i just described, i had to endure countless hours of cruel and unusual work punishment.

i don't think i was personally being punished per se. it only felt that way. the management is cruel and unusual so that's what i was feeling; them. and lots. (and i know you're gonna get me on that one.) all i could do was oblige and accept everything they were serving and nothing sucks the life out of me more than when i have to just take what people are giving. anyway, i think i'll be back for a while since, well, i'm not at liberty to say. sorry.

since you wouldn't be interested in hearing about the intricacies of my sad sack work situation, i will instead subject you to other situations that totally belong in this forum. the upcoming pair of happenstance tragedies involve two sirs; irish pete and big italian. knowing me, knowing you, i bet it won't be too difficult to imagine where this is going. was there vodka? well no, actually. maybe i'll just tell my stories since there's no way you would be able to guess at the contents of this neatly wrapped silver package i'm about to smack you in the face with.

let's begin with irish pete. he's the "homeless irish immigrant laborer who sleeps under the bridge at 14th" and i found him in an upscale restaurant where they serve amazing thai food in a cozy little atmosphere. he was sitting at the table beside us making nice with the wait staff. i noticed him because i notice people who are blending because they're trying to sort of stand out, if you will. he was sort of blending because he could but also starting to increase his unique presence until it popped. again, you're gross for thinking what you're thinking. so as he started to get theatrical, i decided to partake in the fun and *allow* him to join my party. he was going to join us whether we were okay with it or not so i figured it would be entertaining and played along with his homeless-ness game.

he slid over and told his homeless irish sleeping under the bridge story and requested some of my wine. and obviously i allowed the homeless man some wine. who wouldn't. he went on and on in his irish accent with his clean fingernails and more than decent clothes about how he sleeps under a bridge and we played along. finally he slipped and spoke of his days at OU. yeah kids, that's college. we also saw at least one $1000 bill slip out of his pockets. irish pete's jig was up and the waiters were visibly concerned that we wouldn't ever come back to their cute & cozy new hotspot so they helped us into a fib regarding our husbands who had called moments prior inquiring on our dinner status.

as we stood and found our way into coats, he came clean and boldly stated, "i just wanna get laid!". so i did what every good friend does and motioned over to my gal pal on the left as a good place to get such things. he then started talking about the dudes sitting at the front table and immediately lost interest. and...that was that. we left. thanks for the memories, irish pete. thanks for the memories.

big italian. you know what, he will be the next post. he deserves his own place in my little sunny area. and by that i mean, he wants to take me to the caribbean because he finds me so irresistible.

dear aunt nancy

please stop lurking in the shadows and comment. thanks.

your friend,
danielle

i can't stop listening to the silver spoons theme song

one word - ringtone. yeah. i did it. i'm an effing genius.

i have missed you guys. work has been pretty ridiculous. i haven't had a drop of alcohol since monday. do you read me?? monday was the last time i had the spirits. it's a new fucking record and not in a good way. (ooh, sorry for the french.) but yeah, work's been having major badness and i've been dedicated to making the badness go away. yeah. hi? the corporate asshats are highly misinformed. i couldn't help george michael find his man junk in a public restroom if i wanted. no offense, BGK. oh yes i did. eat it. and bret michaels is also still all up ons. i told her you said hi. then she spit her dip at me. i don't know. maybe she hates you. i don't know.

so here's a tidbit and a status note. i'll be back this weekend and... below is the label from the fedex box that ONE of my married boyfriends sent to me. i have a bunch of them and they are fantastic - you know who you are. they buy and send me stuff in the form of cabs, semi-sweet chocolates, and starbucks. one of them bribed me with "godiva candies" if i said nice things about him on his performance review. um, duh. i said nice things about him. godiva "candies" are heavenly. i don't care who you are, you will disclose national secrets to get them in your mouth. we're still talking about chocolates right?

so it says that they should not deliver to an intoxicated person. why did they let me have this?

talk dirty to me, brett michaels. ew. no don't.

i was going to tell you about my recent run-ins with brett michaels, but i'm sure you don't even care because no one wants to hear about poison anymore. they are old news. literally. very old. and, along those same lines, brett should cut his old damn hair. he looks like brett michaels shaved all the long, flowing, crimped, unruly, bleached, streaky blonde hair off of all the hair bands of the 80s and created a hair suit, except not for his body - for his head. it puts the lotion in the basket. er, deep conditioner on its hair. and gets it cut, and i mean like more than once every 6 years. and stop loving yourself so damn much. your time is gone pal. brett michaels is a pain in my giant sweet ass lately. seriously. i welcome any ideas anyone has on how i might extract his things from my stuff.

after i spent the day sifting through brett's hair, i finally left work and stopped off to pick up a few essentials. and by essentials, i mean bud light cans, menthol lights, and lottery tickets. i stopped at the cute little grocery by my house and purchased only these 3 items. how much did brett michaels influence ME today!? well, you know. he and i are crazy bitches. you know.

JV texted me from horlando and first told me that special dark had changed out of his pump clothes. all i have to say is YES. i want to see these pump clothes. immediately. and stat. i mean, don't you? pump clothes? hello! how often do you get to see someone in their pump clothes. dammit. let's do this.

he then esplained that they were gonna drink dial me. i loves when the mens drink dial me. and i just had an idea; i will get him to send mms pics to me of the wide variety of email nerds there so i can post them for you here and then we can all share in some type of physical reaction to them - nerds in florida. i'm not sure that film ever got made. right?

bachelorettes and sausages

there are some things i'm going to do in 2007. they're not necessarily resolutions, either. i just want them. really bad. you already know about one so that's not going to be a surprise. number two might be a surprise, but i know you and you like surprises so you'll be fine. this is them in no particular order:

1. open a hip wine bar because i love wine and i love bars & i'll probably need a new hip one day
2. be provided with an icy forever diamond for my left hand's ring finger

that's it. just those. #2 can happen first or it can happen second. like i said, i won't mind which order but i will be severely (further) damaged if neither happens within the next 300 days.

in other matters, i went out with some of my people on saturday night. it was fun. we ate polish food from a very polish place. we sat beside a man. the man played piano music for us. it was delightful. here is a picture of my friend meg. she's always got her mouth near something. seriously, will you please look at her eyes? be glad you are not that kielbasa sausage. man. this picture alone is enough to hold this post afloat. there's more.















after meg finished up with her bidness, we proceeded to a bar. the bar was unreasonably inexpensive. there were five of us and i was able to buy a round of the alcoholic beverages for under $18. wtf. why am i not still there. i don't know. oh i know. the bachelorettes. they're why we had to leave. they would not get off the boys we had in attendance. literally.

whilst imbibing at this magical bar, bachelorettes showed up. you knew they would. and these were no ordinary bachelorettes. these bachelorettes had giant racks AND blue balls affixed to their heads by way of plastic headbands. i can really only say one thing in response to this; holy freakin awesome you big b-rettes. and also, i believe i attended middle school with the one who couldn't stop taunting people with her blue balls. strange situation to find ourselves in, yes? they were smashed pretty darn good but still lucid enough to be able to determine that the now six of us were totally sweet bitches and dudes. as soon as they could, they sloshed their midwestern cloud on over to our table. you would be remiss if you did not figure they had a bachelorette party card game in tow.

they were in search of a boy who would assist them in their quest for 100 points. all he had to do was tear his shirt off and pump his guns before a crowded bar. luckily, like i said before, we are all sweet bitches and dudes so my friend f.n.g. agreed to strip for the drunk ladies. any of us would have done anything to assist anyone attain 100 points. you probably would do the same. it's 100 points and that's a lot of points. so he stood up as i motioned to everyone to ensure we had a sizable gallery for the spectacle on deck. in one swift movement, he tore his shirt up and flexed for the cameras. the ladies cheered. the cameras flashed. f.n.g.'s bare chest is now on my blog for the whole world to see. thanks, man. and thanks to you, b-rettes. and also to meg and the sausages.
















if you look closely, you can see the blue balls on her head. oh yes. i just did. snap.

random run

• christopher cross has the voice of an angel
• hall & oates have a catchy tune i never knew about - 'missed opportunity'
• demetri martin is allowed to be my husband one day
• i forgot to tell you that corporate lung juice also talks with her mouth full of gooey lunch food during conference calls. mmmm. yummy.
• sno-caps - where the hell have you been, bitches
• ditto, strawberry zingers
• if i had a nickel for every time i got stranded in a columbian jungle wearing heels and a puffy coat...
• during last week's office episode, i laughed for an hour at the part where phyllis and karen drive off with makeovers
• whatever happened to the hottie real world boys; rugged jamie from new orl, blonde surfer attorney aaron from venice beach, lumberjack shawn from boston (?), greazy mike from miami (funniest season btw, hands down)
• and completely unrelated, i'm all for viagra
• i was born to be a second wife - also unrelated
• a menthol light is going to be on tap
• i grew up watching this repeatedly. where is my brantley whitfield carlton foster?
• lime chips are crazy-face delicious
• this one is an effing genius with blog titles
• do you think corona tastes like water, too?

and his name is chair

i walked into work this morning and found that someone had furnished me with new furniture; a new place to rest my old sweet ass. and i love him so much in fact, that i'll hump him right now. i'm not kidding. for real. i said hump. we'll hump. now.

i'm here to tell you that i'm always up for surprises of this nature and caliber. yes, of course i miss old one. he and i were together for 6 years - i'm not heartless. we also didn't get to say a proper good-bye. normally i would be having closure issues at this point, but new one has maybe, i don't know...... only 43,000 different configuration options so that i may regularly indulge in corporate comfort. publicly. and at will.

have a look -



















um, i said look, hors. quit licking the gd screen. he's mine.

hi, is jesus there?

that title looks familiar because it is. i was just telling you a karaoke microphone story where jesus may or may not have been summons-d. i guess i was apparently calling him and he answered because he rang my doorbell at 9am this fine, rainy, cold, saturday morning. wtf jesus. don't effing do that. cold rainy saturday morning = sleep in. oh, but it wasn't a total loss. he left presents for me. and if he left them for me, clearly they will find a way to you.

here's what he left in my door. if you just glance at it right when you get up - prior to coffee, i think the woman and child are petting a monkey. is that normal and right behavior for 'woman and child'? i know, i know. they're human too and sometimes they need to pet a monkey.

if you inspect it more closely after coffee, i'm fairly certain it's a bear. which leads me to my next question; what in the world makes these two morons think they should be petting a bear? uh hey, jesus - could you tell your morons that bears can chomp their heads off and that they should stick to normal petting? you know, normal petting. like monkeys. petting monkeys is normal and fine.

gin headache

yes. it is back. i am here to tell you a tale; a tale of creative crafts for the poor. it's the good time you never knew you could have with mere pennies a day.

did you know that you can generate hours of entertainment in your family room and all with just a karaoke microphone securely affixed to your television? you can have a figurative brimming trunk of grandiose riches with just one small, simplistic piece of antiquated electronic technology - a microphone (cordless or otherwise).

it begins in my family room with me, microphone, and tv. oh yes, and drunk is present. but you knew that. so here's the deal folks, obtain any microphone and then plug it into one of your tv's ports. then, just talk. about everything. since you most likely have people and animals living in your homes, this will be 100x more interesting than it is for me. i'm basically just glorifying my discussions with myself and broadcasting them throughout the house via my tv speakers. and don't get me wrong when i say it will be 100x times more interesting for you. i just mean that it entertained me 100x more than whatever my pre-microphone state was and that you may actually find that it's 200x more interesting given the attendance at your places of residence. that's what i'm trying to say. discard 100x. make it 200x.

if only there were video... there is not. in addition to the karaoke revivals, these are some examples of commonly uttered phrases:

• thankyouverymuch
• i'm here all week
• you're beautiful
• I AM YOUR FATHER
• fix me a turkey pot pie...
• ...bitch
• i would just like to say... (very many things regarding absolutely nothing)
• hi, is jesus there?
• hi, this is jesus

amazing no? you'll be surprised and amused with what comes out of your mouth when there's a microphone in your hands. this was all retrieved in the thick of my morning gin headache. i had a tanqueray gin martini the other night and i awoke the next morning to headache ala gin (and several fond memories of karaoke mic). now the headache may be due to the lack of gin in my life until this year of 29. but then i think you could probably attribute it to the gin martini, the beer chaser, the second beer chaser chaser, and then the two bailey coffees nightcap that followed shortly thereafter. i don't know. jury's still out.

get mommy her breakfast wine

this is a note to let you know that i'm spent. all out of love. blocked. dead-ended. negatory-ied. 4th and 22. dry. niet. but don't you worry your pretty, pretty faces off, readers. i'll be back and better than ever after i begin exploring a few new horizons first thing tomorrow morning; namely spiced rum, dark rum, and tanqueray # 10 (and no, not together.). i'm not looking to die.

these are a few liquids of late whose finer points i have yet to experience. i'll leave you with this - there will be a host of spirited, toasty, lip-smacking, hot, buttered, wintery goodness in your blog future. stay tuned for my findings and wish me luck. this will literally be like fresh candy for you... if i may.

lower-casing your joint

you know what? i just had an epiphany. it could be because it's orthodox xmas or it could be because i'm sort of hammered seeing as it's sunday and drinking is what i do every time, time rolls around. i bet you thought this post was about pot. you're pretty effing sweet if you thought that.

so the epiphany; i make little post-it lists for items i need from the grocery store and also for the super important life things that i'd like to accomplish in life ('open Wine Bar' and 'get married'). as you're well aware, i stick to the little letters when i'm using my words. i got lazy one day and forced myself to just use all lower-casers, which actually turned into a bit of a chore because you have to re-program yourself and constantly correct it at first when using all lower-case letters. it wasn't easy, but i did it. and i did it for yous. my aunt says things like 'yous' and 'those effers. get me another shot of tequila.' she's the greatest american hero when it comes to family around the holidays doing shots of stuff whilst gathered around xmas trees and roaring fires.

i have this excellent new habit of never getting back around to the point. i was just adding something to my grocery list. it was Bailey's. Hess Select Wine is also on the list. what else is on the list you ask? Godiva White Chocolate Liqueur. do you see them? the big letters? i get formal and proper when it comes to my babys' names. if this isn't one of the neatest things you've ever heard in the last minute, you're still welcome to read here but maybe you should consider drinking more.

i can't be sure, but i *think* i'm in love with alcohol. and i do not wish to seek assistance. so if you're ever thinking to stage an intervention on my behalf, you just stop those presses and hold that big fancy red and yellow mickey mouse phone of yours. i'm all set over here with my children. we're just fine. the fact that i take pictures of them is normal and fine. i'm a good parent. i take pictures of my children. of course you agree. thank you.

desperately seeking sanity

i'm going to go all over the place in this one, but not in a gross way like i did early last week at my sister's house.

the saga begins with some people requesting that i spend 6 straight hours with them at work and then afterwards, i couldn't even spell my own names - like, not one of the five. at one point during the sober numbness, i thought that i might be on board with someone calling me out into the hallway to blow my head off. and i know you won't find any part of this to be surprising, but there were also several instances where i had in-depth daydreams involving vodka, spiced rum, margaritas, and then godiva's cappuccino liqueur - because frankly, i can't figure out what to do with it. if you've uncovered a use for that anomaly, please let me know. i just have one bit of advice there and it's that you stick to every other flavor of godiva liqueur. the cappuccino variety both tastes and smells like, well, ass - and i should know given my history with ass.

but the reason i was telling you about the 6 hour meeting to begin with was because i also made some really important declarations while i was there. firstly, i decided to give mr. clean magic erasers a second go 'round. i employed those jokers once and it was just not what i hoped it would be. HOWEVER, tonight's results were astounding and i'm confident that it's not just because i was a little drunk. those things are unreal. my guest bathroom had these "marks" on the wall from when big don was over on xmas. she was in that small room with 3 other people and i can only guess that they got *a little* carried away in there. there's no other logical explanation. i took that magical eraser into that battle zone tonight and together we worked miracles. those marks disappeared instantly and now it looks as though nothing ever happened on that poor wall. ah the wondrous technology of the new millennium. it's remarkable.

the other things that i can list as secondly are that i decided the professions of my unborn, un-conceived, non-existent children this afternoon as well. they will either be pharmacists or meteorologists when they grow up into their bitter drunken adult suits one day. i have recently been pondering the merits of these two careers and i think they're just what my family of the future ordered. we'd like to be somehow super-sized so meteorologists and pharmacists it is. we all know they will appreciate my running their lives until they're 30 (when they turn 40 and find that they like their lives). mama-dan knows best.

thirdly, meatball sandwiches are good. why i don't eat them every minute of every day excapes me. i know you know.

you can't see me now, but i'm wishing you were dead

it's time i shared something really personal with you. i know that you crave my private morsels so much that you require them in order to effectively live your life. having said that, i apologize for just making you consider my private morsels because that's almost inappropriate for this particular pg-13 rated blog entry. and also, for taking an eternity to disclose such information. here is a list of things you can hear when you sit at my desk:

• someone gross clipping their nails at work
• corporate lady hacking lung juice up onto me
• older contractor fellow thinking/smelling old
• an intern being far too young for me
• the riddler's cell phone. from another floor
• middle-aged vendor man with unusually loud, projected voice in a heated discussion regarding purdue football
• car alarms; gas-o-line-is-my-food. raid-io knobs!
• smokie-joes breathing freshly smoked cigarette onto me. mmmmm. yummy.
• nagging, aggressive, know-it-all monotoner cutting into my face like razor sharp icicles
• frantic typists
• angry foreign language phone yeller man, and woman
• a welcomed secret lovers ringtone from a few desks over
• someone with hughjungous kloppers approaching. i mean, you can hear this one walking in their giant shoes before they even know they're comin
• incessant clogged sinus fixer
• incessant coffee slurper
• incessant statement ending nervous laugher
• chronic germie with significant cough
• nerds
• the last bits of my soul slowly and painfully escaping, like when you drop live lobsters into boiling water and they begin to scream a deathly, high-pitched, mercy cry

ok. you can't actually hear that last part. you can only feel it and that's precisely why i took the day off. and it would "sound" like this if you could hear it:

vodka has never done me wrong

but i sure have been doing him wrong.

i was at work today after having been Pah-TOe for so long and couldn't manage to get my head back into the ever-so-interesting game. i was walking down the long hall with my secret lover doing what we do best; long, slow, coffee walks. oh, and publicly discussing alcohol. i mentioned that i had seriously considered introducing a semi-concealed flask to my workspace in 2007 and he mentioned that he thought i might seriously have a problem. and then we both shook our heads and agreed that it was his wife who actually had the problem because most people in the area tend to take their cues from her. so anyway, i described my classic dirty recipe and right away he reacted to it. i almost hate to admit this, but it contained far too much vermouth - for anyone's taste. i never quite understood the point of vermouth... but... wait for it.

in the summer months, i enjoy the vodka straight, over ice. it's light and it's refreshing. but seeing as it's winter, i flopped back over to the classic dirty. you know, to keep me warm. my recipe has traditionally been 2 parts vodka, 1 part vermouth, splash of olive brine, shake shake shake. now due to chop's reaction from the morning coffee run and my lack of interest in corporate _____, i spent *a little* time during the day researching classic martini recipes with our old friend. turns out, you only really want a splash of vermouth. say what? yes, willis. a splash. so steph's complaint about my strong martinis a couple weeks back was, well, weak. AND valid. i'll give you that one. my drinks usually straddle the strong side of the line because i kind of do have a problem and i don't fully comprehend when you prefer somethings in your tall, cool russians (thx, OKS). give me time. i'll learn.

a splash of vermouth. good. to. know. i raced home at the stroke of 4:45 because this corporate lady was operating under the assumption that i would be assisting her with corporate _____ around 5pm. uh yeah. no, mrs. lady. i won't. i then point a'd it for white-lightning. he greeted me with the leather smell that only he can do and we were on our way. it was glorius. after 50 minutes of heated seats, i was finally in my kitchen shaking up a masterpiece. you guessed right if you guessed splash of vermouth. it was THE MOST mouth-watering classic dirty i've ever had in my sad, meaningless existence.

i will furnish you with the new recipe if you're in the mood for something stiff and dirty. get your damn minds out of the gutter.

no wait. keep doing it. my teeth hurt.

here's to the new thing, getting rid of the old thing, and then something with a wine bar

'sup you guys. hope new year's eve 2007 was all you ever wanted in a new year's eve. mine was just what the doctor ordered; an extended dinner with the girls at one of the city's most perfect litte sinatra/buble/dino/sammy/martini clubs and then a champagne toast at the doc's place where steph made us put coins in our shoes and sharda made us stand and sit 12x for the new year, at precisely the new year. it was fun because it was leisurely, our waiter was a bitch, and i got to drink straight, stiff, dirty vodka.

below you'll find two pictures that i need for you to review. the first is basically just a shot of me at a table with the girls - who requested that i not display their faces on the internet even though you've probably seen at least one of these faces if you're a dude and you like porn (so obviously i covered their heads with dark boxes) - and in it, i appear to have a rack - because 2007 is definitely going to be my year. you see it right? the second is the tiny little flower arrangement at the restaurant. it was so tiny.

so... happy new year out there. like i said, this is the year for my 'new thing', getting rid of the 'old thing', and then for opening a wine bar. thanks for finally getting here, 2007. i think we all desperately needed you.














(seriously. there's no trick photography here. i was literally standing beside this thing.)