The Silver Lining in a $4,000 Dental Procedure

As you loyal fans know, I was recently given the devastating news that my mouth had to undergo a pricey procedure for a cracked tooth - and when I say pricey, I mean selling-your-first-born-pricey.

The procedure sucked, but the aftermath was much more thrilling as I was given something equivalent to euphoria, that's right: vicodin. I have to say, people typically rave about vicodin, but my memory told me that it just caused me to vomit everywhere having my wisdom teeth taken out years ago, but ooooo-eeeeeeeee how times have changed!

Vicodin could quite possibly be one of the best things that has happened to me -- I'm a changed woman! Suddenly, the world look brighter and people I would usually judge I seemed to instead find "unique." Let me share a few examples:

- Barista at Peet's Coffee was wearing a full-on-to-the-break-of -dawn grill. Yeah, GRILL like platinum mouth piece covering his front teeth (gotta spell it out for the older blog readers out there). Along with his grill he had a platinum and gold (authenticity is in question) watch and a GIANT gold chain. This was all accompanied by a nice little brown apron. Now, typically I would think, "Oh WOW, what a douche." Do you know what I thought in my vicodin state? I giggled and thought, "that man has quite the imagination. how delightfully silly of him!"

- Man rollin down fillmore street (quaint street with boutiques, cafes etc) with his sebring convertible open jamming to Journey and screaming out the lyrics at the top of his lungs. My usual thought, "Douche alert." My thought on vicodin, "oh! what a wonderful singing voice that lad has!!"

- Woman walking down the street with rainbow golf umbrella, that is actually like a golf umbrella times 2 -- giant. Have never seen anything like it. She is approaching me, walking down the left side of the street while I, the law-abiding citizen, is walking down the right side of the street. Due to mammoth size of her umbrella, she couldn't see, and therefore full on hit me with her soaking wet umbrella. My usual thought, "B*tch watch it!!" My thought today, "oooooooooo rainbows!"

Now, I know this seems like a heart-warming story, but as they say, all good things must come to an end. The end in this case? An empty vicodin bottle. Oh, lord, it was the best of the times, and it was the worst of times. The day without vicodin couldn't have seemed longer. As I was mentally and physically still aching, I called my doctor for a refill. Much to my delight she agreed.

I raced in the pouring rain down to Walgreen's, I eagerly waited in line, squirming with pure anticipation of what awaited me at the counter. I stepped right up and proudly spelt my last name, but much to my surprise the pharmacy technician said, "Oh, I see this is a new prescription for you. Let me get the pharmacist."

Panic raced through my veins. "What. Wait. There must be some kind of mistake. No. That can't be right. I'm here for Vicodin. Yeah. Vicodin."

Technician: "oh miss, your doctor called in the generic version this time."

Me: "No. NOOOO (voice reaching a feverish pitch and hitting octaves only special dogs can hear)."

All of the sudden, things started happening, I was fidgeting, my toes were tapping, suddenly the second hand on the clock was ticking loudly and the pharmacist started grinning like a clown. I needed the real stuff.

Well, it didn't happen. Everyone knows the generic shit doesn't work. She could have just given me aspirin. And to think, I raced in the rain and got hit by that b*tch with that lame rainbow umbrella for this.

Karma Strikes... Twice

As you loyal fans know (or those of you that can scroll down), my last post not only talked about a crazy homeless(ish) guy, but featured a picture of some random toothless man. What's my point? My point is: Karma is a bitch and I am being punished because I've exploited the stories of people who are crazy, junky, or homeless (or all of the above).

This weekend, I was eating (shocker) and bit down on a extra crispy (not really chewable) tortilla chip. I had a little sting of pain, and then, as I moved my tongue over the back of my mouth I noticed that I was now MISSING A TOOTH!! Yes. I kid you not. Thank god the said missing tooth is in the back of my mouth, but it's still disturbing.

To make matters worse, I accidentally signed up for an HMO dental plan (attention to detail was never my strong suit). I cannot even begin to guess how much a new tooth will cost me, but I do know it will be "a lot," and I also know i do NOT have "a lot" of money. I could potentially soon be homeless as a result of dental bills.

I had a glimpse of the homeless life this morning on the bus. The bus was packed, and an old haggard homeless woman gets on, and she was actually wearing her life. Let me explain: She was wrapped in her urine-soaked sleeping bag, and even had digging utensils (for the garbage cans) on her back. The bus was filled with yuppies with their burberry scarves and prada handbags, and when she got on, the stench was so overwhelming that we all started gasping for air- opening the windows and sticking our heads out to get away from the smell. It didn't work.

I digress.

The point is: I may soon become this homeless person. But at least I'll have my tooth back.

Turtle Man

I swear I don't make this shit up:

Last night I was in Walgreens waiting in line at the prescription counter when the guy wanders in. He looked like a taller and more sickly version of Richard Lewis, was dressed in a long black fake velvet or fur coat (it doesn't matter, whatever fabric it was, it did NOT look like real anything). I definitely stood out as weird looking, with his glitter ring and all, but what really tipped me off was when he tried walking by all of us in line, and hit us with a giant rectangular option protruding out the side of his coat.

Let me put this in context. Picture a microwave under a coat. That's how big this object was and it was under this long weird coat. So I definitely had my eye on him.

Soon he cut to the front of the line, and asked the pharmacist:
"Hey do you have turtle food?"

Pharmacist: No. We don't care turtle food.

Man: What about reptile food?

Pharmacist: Nope.

Man: (distressed, nearly in tears) But........ (siiiiiiighhhhhhhhh)..... what do turtles eat???? Lettuce???

Pharmacist: Yeah, maybe

Man: But he won't eat it!!!!!!! He won't eat lettuce!!

Pharmacist: Is he a baby turtle?

Man: No. Well, I mean, he looks old, but I don't really know, I found him in a garbage can.

Me: (burst out laughing but disguised it with a coughing attack)

Pharmacist: Did you go to a pet store?

Man: (again, so so so sad, looks up at her completely defeated) I've tried EVERYTHING. He hasn't eat in a month

Pharmacist: A month????????

Man: Yeah, and he is like really REALLY depressed.

Pharmacist: Ok, well go to the pet store.

Man walks on, turtle cage under coat, looking defeated.

Bad Outfit + Hangover = Ego-damaging Misunderstanding

Cliff Notes Version:

Oh sh*t. I look like a work at a discounted retail store.

Full Story Version:

I should have seen it coming, when I left the house yesterday, I knew I looked like a walking hangover. Hair was up in a bun, glasses, long over sized sweater, and sneakers. Yep, I seriously left the house like that. After catching a glimpse of myself in a window I asked my boyfriend if I looked like a grandma. He answered my question with another question, "what does a grandma look like?," which should have been my answer. But instead of changing, we went onward to run some errands.

We arrived at Ross, this junky discounted retailer store (slogan is "dress for less"), to buy towels and socks (yep, a sexy Sunday), and I slowly began to realize just how bad I looked. I was perusing the towel aisle when a short woman approached me with a question.

short woman: excuse me....

me: yes? what would you like me to grab off the top shelf?
[You see, me and the short people of the world have a connection. They can't reach things up on shelves, and I can. So we work together to make the world a better place.]

short woman: oh, um, nothing. I was just curious if you could tell me if this (holding item) is a bath towel, or a bath mat?

me: (thinking: hmm this is odd... i guess i do look quite knowledgeable..) yep, this is definitely a towel.

short woman: oh, great. do you have others in a different color?

me: (thinking: F*CK -- SHE THINKS I WORK HERE.) (actions: bow head. slump shoulders. leave the scene.)

The valuable lesson here: I should really start trying at life.

Showbiz Pizza "Performers" Want to Make Love in this Club

Have you ever heard Usher's retarded song called "Make Love in This Club?" No? Maybe? Let me jog your memory with a few key lyrics:

"I'll be like your medicine, you'll take every dose of me. It's going down on aisle 3. I'll bag you like some groceries"

(Um... what?)

"Have you ever made love to a thug in the club with his sights on? 87 Jeans and a fresh pair of Nikes on. On the couch, on the table, on the bar, or on the floor. You can meet me in the bathroom yeah you know I'm tryna go"

(I know I've made love to a thug in a club, but.... can't remember if there were a fresh pair of Nikes on....)

Ok, well I bring up this junk-tastic song because these very lyrics have inspired the mechanical animal performers of Chuck-E-Cheese/Showbiz Pizza (same thing in my book) to actually "perform" this song.

This YouTube video has been out for a bit, but I cannot stop laughing my ass off about it. Check it out. And watch all of it, we wouldn't want you missing the lyrics about the fresh Nikes... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ur8AwQHusZw

Genius. Pure Genius. If only I had the steady hand and/or the technology to pull this off myself...

Homeless Man Speaks "Dog"

Tonight I was waiting for the bus when I heard barking nearby. Nothing out of the ordinary... just a dog barking... waaaaaaaaait a minute... that actually doesn't sound very much like a dog. Hmmmm where is this noise coming from??

I peered across the street, only lit by the dim glow of the liquor store Budweiser sign and sure enough I saw a weathered man barking. Yep, barking, like really loudly. But wait, what is he barking at? Ohhhhhhh that makes sense... he is barking at a DOG. Ummm.

Poor German Shepherd with tied up to a fire hydrant, relaxed and looking up at the loon with those big puppy eyes, seemingly asking, "What the f*ck?" The homeless man continued to come closer and closer to the dog barking louder and louder each time. The dog clearly didn't give a shit and never barked back.

Feeling hopeless and alone, the man stumbled into the liquor store, likely to speak Chinese to the cashier.

The Pigeon and the Power-Walker

The title sounds enchanting like a Grimm's' Brothers fairytale, but I assure you - it is no such thing.

I shall proceed....

This morning I was walking to work with latte in hand, music in ear, and dread in my heart. In fact, my music was so loud that I was completely unaware of the noises around me -- including the power-walker in his loud wind pants and the muffled "i'm dying" noises from a pigeon on the sidewalk.

I think you can see where this is going.

I was in my own world, until at the very last minute I noticed an extremely obese pigeon face planted in the middle of the sidewalk. In a split second I started to take an abrupt step to the right to avoid the carcass, but was SIDE SWIPED by the power walker to my right. Not only was I hip-checked and punched by his ever-so-intensely pumping fists, but I may have gotten wind burn -- from, yes, his wind breaker.

With my right "lane" blocked by said douchebag, I was forced to step towards the pigeon. Thankfully, I used my long limps to stretch my leg as far forward as possible to miss the bird completely.

It was horrifying: both the prospect of stepping on the sidewalk-kill and the pigeon's apparent ignorance about trans fats and carbs after 10 p.m.

Lesson learned.

The Gift That Says "I Own Your Balls"

Valentine's Day is soon approaching, and for all of you that are still racking your brains searching for the perfect gift, well, look no further.



SMITTENS! The number one way to own your significant other's balls.


This gift not only says "I own you," but it also challenges your boyfriend or husband's manhood. What will he choose - you and your junky gift, or his masculinity.


These gems can be found at Restoration Hardware. Yeah, this is seriously a product. No photo shopping was involved in this post.


Note: Thanks to CrunchGear (http://www.crunchgear.com/) for bringing this ridiculousness to my attention.

Theraflu Tastes Like Warm Vomit

A little bit about me: I have an awful cold and have been in bed the last three days ill and deliriously shouting out non-sequitors like : I was born in a canoe; My hair tastes like candy canes; Phil Collins is allergic to peanuts.

Let's fast forward to today: my friend Lindsey suggested that I try some magical medicine called Theraflu to get better quicker. As such I made the four-block trek to Walgreen's and feasted my eyes on the packaging that said "Severe Cough and Cold." While reaching for the box I remembered Lindsey's warnings about the flavors: Only get lemon or citrus... the others are disgusting... remember... berry isn't merry.

Well god dammit I forgot the last little jingle she came up with, and sure enough the Severe Cold and Cough was berry flavored. I can honestly say that the flavor would be much more accurate if it were called "warm soothing vomit." I mean, it really truly tastes like vomit. In fact, now I feel like I have to go vomit.

UGH when will the madness end??!?!?!?

Buyer Beware: Grandma Candy Virtually Ignored at Hood Supermarket

As you all may know from a previous post, I have an affinity for grandma candy, Good & Plenty, in particular. I'm not going to point any fingers, (SAFEWAY IN WESTERN ADDITION aka "The Hood"), but not everyone feels the same way. And that hurts.

I was at safeway stocking up on potatoless and beanless soup (truly a challenge) and as I went to the check-out lane i noticed that the candy that my heart yearns for was, well, not in high demand. Only because I took pity on the overflowing number of purple boxes did I purchase one box.

That was my last pleasant memory of the licorice treats. When I got home I opened up the box, full of anticipation like a 5 yr old on Christmas morning. I took my first handful and my god, it was awful. It was like chewing on tar maybe even hardened concrete- i'm not sure which would be worse.

It seems as though the box had been sitting on the shelf for a minimum of 2 years. Are the Good & Plentys victim of the recession? Or a victim of evolving tastes? I suspect the latter of the two -- all the young whipper snappers out and about craving their chili cheese fritos and sour patch kids. It makes me sick to my stomach that the joy that is licorice has gone out of style. At least in the hood.

We must band together if we want to see quality Good & Plentys in the future.

Delicious Oatmeal Spurs Questions

First and foremost, I love oatmeal. But that's not to say I don't grow tired of eating it daily. Maple and brown sugar is my standard, and I don't like to wander. Well, not until last night.

Last night I was perusing the aisles of Whole Foods when a beam of light was shining from above onto (are you ready for this?) CHOCOLATE ALMOND OATMEAL. Oh sweet jesus, I became giddy with this prospect - could it be? chocolate for breakfast? 160 calories? organic?

I'm here to tell you it's all true. It's the most delicious thing ever created. But that is not where the blog ends...

You see, I found myself wondering "who is this Dr. Weil character, and why is he so wonderful with his chocolate oatmeal?" The question led me to this photo:

WHAT???? Why is Dr. Weil naked and hugging a tree?

So many questions. So little answers.

Sweet sweet revenge

If this isn't karma, I don't know what is.

Political commentHATEr and rhetorical threat to society, Ann Coulter, has had her hate-spewing jaw wired shut. That's Right!! She is unable to speak (enter "Amen" and "Hallelujah" here)!

While official word is still out regarding how she broke her jaw, I'm going to go out on a limb and guess it was injured while kissing Dick Cheney's ass.

Not only is she unable to verbally attack everything that moves, but she has to postpone recording the audio version of her upcoming book.

Cue: Luck be a ladyyyyy toooooonight http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W6RTIMmJxaQ

God says NO in mysterious ways

It was 3 o'clock on gloomy Monday when I decided to take a stroll outside with my sister from another (albeit shorter) mister, Brittani. We hit up Starbucks despite the money and calorie fairy advising me to do otherwise. Additionally I had a meeting in ten minutes so time was of the essence...

Things quickly went awry as God started working his evil black magic through the barristas. Suddenly they are shouting out that my trusty sidekick and I ordered teas instead of the oh-so-indulgent peppermint mocha twist. After we corrected them of their blatant error we had to wait for them to re-do the orders. Then they screwed up the whipped cream order and gave Britt nothing and me that blasted topping - so there were issues there. Once we had it sorted out we were back on our way...

T-minus 2 minutes to get back to the office. Oh shit, I'm going down in a blaze of glory. I picked up my speed and took advantage of my long legs (extra long with some rockin' heels on today). I was at full stride and near my destination when BLOODY HELL I lost my footing and my delicious peppermint mocha twist erupted in a volcano-like fury all over my jacket and jeans.

Long story short: God doesn't want me to have peppermint mochas. Booo God, boooo.

Welcome Back...

Cue song: welcome back ... welcome back , welcome back, wel-come baaaack (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QVS3WNt7yRU)

God, it feels good to be back. Many thanks to my loyal fans for encouraging me to come out of my four month retirement. I got wrapped up in life and yes, (insert dramatic pause here) love, and as such I was afraid I had become un-funny.

But we all know that's impossible. So here I am (envision me jumping out from behind some large vegetation and holding my hands out like "surprise")!

More to come; stay tuned!

Another Day, Another Dollar, INDEED

Today is my lucky day - I found a dollar laying on the street today in the middle of a crosswalk. I stopped, picked it up, but then was immediately consumed with guilt and paranoia. I held the dollar out, arm extended, pondering what to do next. I looked to my left, nope, doesn't appear I'm on camera. I looked to the right, nope, doesn't appear I'm being watched.

I was kind of holding up pedestrian and automobile traffic as I stood there looking around me, trying to identify possible legal authority in disguise.

Then a stranger brisked by and said "lucky."

I responded, "what do I do with this?"

Her: um. keep it. (now looking at me like I'm crazy)

Me: Oh. Ok. I was raised Catholic. I always feel like I'm doing something wrong.

Her: (already crossed the street- no longer within earshot)

Me: Put the dollar in my pocket and felt like I wasn't sinning. A strange but appreciated feeling, indeed.

Mo' money, Mo' make-up.

To My Number One Fan

"Here's to you... my number one" (Usher reference)

Well, if you're reading this blog and you're NOT my number one fan (details to be divulged soon enough) you should start feeling guilty for taking taking taking and never giving (to me).

Today I got into work bright and early only to find a package at my desk.

Internal thought process:

"Ooooo looky here, a package... hmmm it rattles. A rattle snake? No. Too obvious. Jelly beans? Nah, Easter is long gone. Maybe branded company whistles, or something equally useless to use for recruitment. Wait, why am I still guessing? It's not like Christmas where I have to wait to open it. Alright - here goes..."

Well, my friends. I opened and it was two giant movie theatre-style boxes of Good and Plenty's (see previous blog posting on Grandma Candy) with a note reading "keep on blogging :)"

It was my first tangible form of fan mail. I feel like David Cassidy must have felt... receiving gifts from his crazy girl fan base.

To my number one fan: Thanks for the encouragement. I couldn't be as hilarious as I am without fans like you supporting me.

To all you other freeloaders: Send me something.

The Handshake Heard Around the World

I'm pretty sure the grip on my handshake may be a bit too firm.

A new guy started today, a manly man at that (unlike most PR guys...), and when I shook his hand his fingers CRACKED. I could see in his eyes he was startled, and possibly fearing for his life. I made a joke that clearly wasn't funny and followed it up with, "Laugh at my jokes, the other new guys doesn't." Ummm. Not so much a smooth move.

I'm a bone-crushing, man-eating machine. Wah Wah

Caught in the Act

Today I was caught doing an ab work-out at my desk with an exercise ball. Yes, I have an exercise ball at my desk, it's green, and it's all I have in this world.

For a deeper look into my psyche, read on:

I work too much. So much, in fact, that it has been impossible to go to the gym this week. What's a girl to do? Well, I think doing crunches while on a conference call is the perfect answer to this dilemma.

So today, I was sitting on my trusted ball at the computer getting an email out, but taking the opportunity to do some ab exercises in between paragraphs. I mean, no shame or blame in that! Soooooooooo as I was wrapping up, I hear "Is that what you do all day?"

Dun dun duuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuun.

It was a VP from the L.A. office, a woman I have only met once. Because I suck at lying I just answered "Yes, as a matter of fact. Well this and work at the same time, of course." I was waiting for the tongue-lashing, but no. Instead, I could almost swear there was light suddenly shining on her. She lit up and said, "I just started working out with a personal trainer. That's a great idea."

Ohhhhhhhh yeah. Makin' moves. Bold moves.

The Black Sheep

The following story is sad, but true. Names have been altered to conceal the individuals identities.

My co-worker "Ashlee," recently shared with me her disheartening discovery of her father's professional biography. Please note "Ashlee" is the youngest of two daughters in her family. Please also note that Ashlee is not the sister that went to Yale. Read on.

The last sentence of her dad's bio, which is used for all work-related purposes reads: "Bob" has two daughters. One of which he is quite proud of, is a lawyer in the entertainment/cable industry and she went to Yale. I do not recall what his other daughter does, but she went to Boston University.

Buuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurn.