Now I need a beer....

I was just pulled over by state troopers under the suspicion that I was driving drunk. Why? Oh because apparently I'm a complete dumbass and I don't know how to turn on the lights in my sister's Hyundai Santa Fe (sexy car, I know). Needless to say the cops thought I had to be drunk to be dumb enough to do a thing like that. Luckily, I was able to convince them that really I'm just an idiot before they forced me to do any field sobriety tests.

As a result I have no choice but to start drinking copious amounts of alcohol and think about my near run-in with the law. And then take a cab downtown.

Spears for President

It came to my attention that the State of the Union Address was the night before last. And when I say it came to my attention, I mean it was the only damn thing on the tiny television at the laundromat while I was washing my clothes for the first time since Christmas (I know it was the only thing on because I checked every other channel and almost settled on watching static because frankly, that would have been less annoying). So I put together a few comments.

First of all, who cares what GW has to say anymore... he's on his way out and can't possibly be voted back in. He should have just stood up there and told knock-knock jokes, his approval rating probably would have shot up faster than Kate Moss.

Secondly, I have just thought of a BRILLIANT new plan that will save our country:

Lets all write in Britney Spears for president.

Wait, wait, put down the pitchforks and torches and let me explain. While about 98% of America probably had no idea that the State of the Union was even on, I'd bet you a million beers that at LEAST 98% of America could tell you what Britney's douchey new photografriend's name is.


When I was in 11th grade we had to take a class called rhetoric, and I have NO idea what it was supposed to teach us, mostly because the teacher had some really busted up teeth and I couldn't listen to anything she said. I just pointed and stared at her with my mouth open and a horrified look in my eyes every day that year. Somehow I did manage to learn how to put a syllogisim together (don't ask me what that is, I don't know - her third incisor from the left was just unnatural). So this is the conclusion I have drawn:

People need to pay attention to politics
People DO pay attention to Britney Spears
Therefore we need Britney Spears in politics.

Plus watching her pick a wedgie and her nose simulatneously at her inaguration would be fun.

VOTE BRITNEY.



UPDATE: I have just polled the entire country and 98% of people did in fact know who Adnan was, so I'll be taking those beers now. If anyone calls for me I'll be shitfaced, unless its my mom, then tell her I went to church.

News Flash: Hot Dogs Trump Pizza

We all know that Austin's sixth street is famous for a plethora of reasons: oddly named bars, Leslie the homeless cross-dresser, drunkards and their outrageous antics, and of course the 2:00 AM pizza.

Well, I've got a bubble to burst, though, and some of you may not like it. But I've got to spread the word about the almost religious experience I had this past weekend when I took a chance on an unknown stand, which, from my foggy memory I think was called "Sam's Gourmet."

I was surprisingly not feeling the vibe of Logans, my favorite big-beered bar, but I was feeling the hunger pangs coming from my stomach. I stumbled out of the door and to my left was a happy man serving hot dogs. The set up was simple, but from what I remember I think I had my choice of hot dogs and condiments, and all for the low low price of like, $5.00. I mean, even if it was a bad hog dog I could be happy about the price, right?

But good ol' Sam didn't disappoint me! I don't think it was just the drunchies (drunk munchies, of course), mind you, because that was the best damn hot dog I think I've ever had. The proportions were perfect. It was messy as hell, but it was delicious! I had to share this discovery with everyone in my group. I've stumbled upon greatness, and I've got Sam to thank. I want to stop by so often that at the end of a long night I can just wander right up and say, "Sammy boy, I'll have the usual," and he'll know exactly what I want. (And by the way, I will always know him as Sam. Even if his name is Sunny or Roger or Bartholomew, that shit's never going to matter to me.)

Anyways, between the limo ride home on Friday night (that's another story) and that glorious hot dog on Saturday, I would say that all in all it was a successful weekend. I'm turning 22 in three days though, so I'll report again on what it feels like to be an old woman. If all goes according to plan it's going to be a shit show...so...*here's hoping there's a lot to blog about*

I'll tell you one thing is for sure though: I will NEVER be too old for a hot dog. 

"I don't wrestle, I beat bitches up!"

It's time for a trueeeeeeeee confessionnnnnnnn. One that may or may not lose me a few points on the "coolness meter o' life," but here goes nothing.....

I absolutely LOVE The Real World.

Yes, you read that properly, and no, I'm not being ironic. I really, really do - I love it. Not in the, "I'll watch it if it's on" way. More in the, "Make sure I catch each week's new episode and if I miss it stay up until 3am when they replay it" way. It's a sickness....I'm aware.

That being said, for a while my love was starting to wane. Sadly, it all began with the Austin season. Now, being a college student in Austin at the time, one would think the whole thing would have been that much more exciting. Unfortunately, I've never encountered a bigger group of loser ass clowns in my life. And they weren't entertaining loser ass clowns -- they just straight up sucked. I'd love to comment more about them and go into painstakingly specific detail outlining just how much each one sucks, but I keep trying to forget their names and faces (unfortunately my love of The Gauntlet isn't helping...at least Danny hasn't worn one of his fug hats yet). All I really have to say for that season is that I hope that if ANYONE out there is to ever visit Austin, Texas please, God, do NOT waste your time at Dizzy Rooster or Chuggin Monkey. Remember that ignorant douche bag Bachelor, Brad from Austin? He owns those "cleverly named" establishments. That should say enough. Anyway, back to the point -- a bad season in Austin followed by an arguably worse season in Key West (Paula SUCKS) had me swearing off of the show forever. (Denver was watchable I guess....I kept waiting for Alex to admit he was gay).

The formula for the show has always been to bring to the table "a really diverse cast" with "diverse issues." That's all good and well, as it does make for some good television (Steven slapping Irene, the ongoing battle between Coral and Mike (or the Miz if you prefer it.....I do), Ruthie's alcoholism, etc. etc.), but it was losing steam pretty rapidly.

So what did Mary Ellis Bunim and Jonathan Murray do (no, I didn't even have to look that up)? They decided to put together the least diverse cast in the history of The Real World. I give you, The Real World: Sydney. The season that threw diversity out the window and just put a lot of hot people in a house together (girls outnumbering guys of course). Okay, so Parisa was Muslim and Cohutta may have been retarded, but none of those things really got more than 5 minutes of total air time over the season. Instead, there were hook-ups galore, some of the most ridiculous cat fights I've ever seen (Trisha is bat-crazy), and arguably the best season I've seen since Vegas.

And so, this post is dedicated to you, Mary Ellis and Jonathan (you two HAVE TO be like 75 by now....I mean isn't Timmy 60?). Thank you. Thank you for bringing back the glory that was and always should be The Real World. It is because of the phenomenon that you created (and only because of it) that despite its over suckiness I still "Want my MTV."




** DISCLAIMER: Yes, I realize the title quote by Coral is from the Gauntlet. How dare you challenge me! But, honestly is there a more memorable quote by a "Real Worlder"? No, no there is not. **

Oh, because THAT'S going to make me want to sleep with you.

I was innocently skimming the obituaries and marriage announcements (one and the same if you ask me) of my local news paper today when an ad for the "Perfect Valentine's Day Gift" pops up. Now, this is my first single Valentines Day since I was like a freshman in high school. That being said, I've NEVER been a fan of this holiday. I have a plethora of reasons, but this particular gift really makes me hate it.



There are so many things wrong with this being given as a gift on "the most romantic day of the year". For starters, there are housewives in Hoboken, New Jersey who think these gold dipped roses are tacky. I've always said that getting flowers as a gift is kind of like getting a really old person. They both require upkeep, you can't do anything with them but look at them, and pretty soon after you get them, they die. I guess these ForeverRoses solve that problem?

Either way, if a guy were to ever show up on my door step with gold dipped roses of any sort, I'd send his ass packing. While buying me candy would require even less thought than his hideous "floral" arrangement, at least I'd have something to eat for dinner because lord knows I haven't been to the grocery store in about a month.

My point is gents, if you're looking to get in my pants around the 14th of this month, all I want is a six pack of Blue Moon, a bottle of vodka, and maybe some Dairy Queen. Save this kind of shit for your grandma.

Excuse me waiter, there seem to be some flowers in my beer

Oh 1-8oo-flowers.com, you know just how I like my carnations - surrounded by fake beer. I mean really, this is the ideal gift for so many occasions and at $29.99 its a steal!

I think my favorite part of the arrangement has got to be the faux ice cubes which are really "special acrylic rocks to symbolize your favorite brew." They totally get me! I'm always drinking beer with acrylic rocks in it! The description suggests that this is the perfect gift for "St. Patrick’s Day to birthdays to Father’s Day" but why stop there?

I bought these post-fight for my ex-boyfriend once because what says "Sorry I told your friends you cried when you saw A Walk To Remember even though I still think you are WAY more in touch with your feminine side than I am now lets just get drunk and have make-up sex" better than a plastic beer mug full of cheap flowers and "special rocks"?

If you are in the market for some more really tacky flower arrangements, check out the whole line of Happy Hour Bouquets.

Do you REALLY need a degree to do that?

I'm currently unemployed and going crazy. Today I was surfing my University's career services website and found this post:

KRAFT/OSCAR MEYER, Hotdogger
Application Deadline: 1/30/2008
Information Session: 2/14/2008, 4:00 pm, CMA 3.102
Interviews: 2/15/2008, CCS
Position(s):
Looking for a Job You Can Relish?
Here is a Job with all the fixings!
Who? - You! We need outgoing, creative, friendly, enthusiastic, graduating college seniors who have an appetite for adventure and are willing to see the world through the windshield of an Oscar Mayer Wienermobile. Applicants should have a BA or BS, preferably in public relations, journalism, communications, advertising, or marketing, though applicants are not limited to these degrees.
Se Habla Espanol? - Bilingual candidates are encouraged to apply.
What? - To represent Oscar Mayer Foods as a goodwill ambassador through radio and television appearances, newspaper interviews, trade visits and charity functions. To meat and greet people from coast to coast. To maintain company car (Oscar Mayer Wienermobile). To work with internal and external consumer promotions, marketing and sales professionals. To manage your own traveling public relations firm; organizing promotions and pitching TV, radio and print media.
Where? - The Hot Dog Highways of America. Wienermobiles travel through all regions of the country visiting big cities and small towns alike, bringing miles of smiles to millions.
Why? - The Oscar Mayer Wienermobile has become an American icon. For over 65 years, the Wienermobile has been able to provide a Wienerwhistle and a laugh for all. Oscar Mayer continues to use the Wienermobile at special events throughout the country and they need people like you to coordinate all aspects of Wienermobile travel and event management.
Condiments-
Receive $500 per week, plus expenses, benefits and clothing.
Experience of being your own traveling public relations firm.
Experience in a self-managed position with many responsibilities.
Be a mini-celebrity in small towns and big cities through event appearances and media interviews, and for being the driver of an Oscar Mayer Wienermobile.

I don't even know where to begin. The crappy hot dog puns? The word "Wienerwhistle"? The fact that I paid 80 G's for an education that qualifies me to drive a wiener and be a "mini-celebrity" in small towns?

If this is what the REAL WORLD has to offer me, count me out. I much prefer drinking copious amounts of vodka and waking up in the morning wondering if the bed I'm sleeping in is in my apartment and then sleeping off my hangover until about 3pm when I shower and repeat. thanks.

Newsflash: Babies are cute, talking about birth is not.

While all of my co-conspirators sleep one off, I woke up at the hour of 8 AM to drive my happy ass to work where I was greeted with this email:

Well it took 17 hours of labor but at 12:54am this morning [generic baby name] made it out, now they had to go in and get him when they figured he was little too big to come out the old fashion way. Everything went well and [generic mother's name] was put back together without a snag.

I've highlighted the particularly disturbing parts for your enjoyment. And sadly, this email isn't even from the same person who once emailed the whole office to tell us that he'd be missing work because his wife had a urinary tract infection. All kinds of people in my office are knocked up, so I can't wait to get more emails just like this one. I love having round-about conversations about your wife's vagina at 8:30 in the morning.

Anyway, cheers to the happy couple and their new 8 lb 10 oz bouncing baby tax write-off.

Note: The picture above is an actual patent illustration for an ingenious idea called "The Baby Cage" designed to keep ma and pa from crushing their young.

3 Sunshines, 4 Coors Lights, 3 Dos XX, and some Zinfindel later...

This blog exists.

And the authors are:

These Shoulders Don't Lie: One part cynical bitch, two parts Coors Light, shake well and serve over ice.

Nouns About Me: A Straight Shooter

Venus Fly Slap: Just gets better with age

Lyrical Cabbage: Is there alcohol in that? Yes please.