Ever hear the expression "you're fat, you're ugly, and your mom dresses you funny?" That was me in fourth grade. I was a little on the chunky side, I wasn't necessarily ugly, but I had this horrible curl to my hair, which made my bangs warp themselves into a Munchhausen mustache, and I had this crazy pair of pants that were plain hideous. These pants were made out of some kind of weird canvassy itchy material, they were wide wide WIDE leg trousers in an age when skinny was in, they were short on me, so they were neither pant length, nor cute capri length, and worst of all, they had huge purple paisleys all over them. I still cringe thinking about the days I had to wear those pants.
Add to that the fact that fourth grade was a traumatic year for me. I had just moved to a new school, had no friends, and I was getting over a really bad case of being Amish. Oh, and don't forget I had that horrible teacher who liked to ridicule her students for wrong, or misunderstood answers. It was not a fun time.
On this day, I was wearing my circus tent trousers, and feeling particularly melancholy since I had not made many friends. I needed a break from the classroom, and had the urge to relieve myself, so proceeded to the little girls room.
Even as a ten year old, I was aware of--and not particularly fond of toilet swirly germs, so I placed a thirty ply layer of toilet paper onto the seat. I had just set my rump onto the cushion of protection as....
RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG
BEEEEEEEEP BEEEEP BEEEEEEP BEEEEEEEP BEEEEEEP BEEEEEEEEP BEEEEP BEEEEEP BEEEEEEP BEEP
RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGGG
Followed by an announcement over the loudspeaker about how this was not a drill, there was a real fire, and all students and faculty were to immediately vacate the building to their designated posts.
It was the second week of school. We had never had a fire drill, and I had no clue where our post was. I also had absolutely no interest of being pulled from the rubble of Concord Road Elementary School while a series of onlookers applauded, and reporters and photographers abounded, wearing the paisley pants from hades, so I made a quick decision to abandon ship as soon as possible and get to my classroom. I literally was not going to be caught dead in those pants!
I quickly finished what I was doing, pulled up my pants, flushed the remains of my potty pillow, and ran like hell.
By the time I got to my classroom (which was only about four doors down the hallway), everyone was gone. The hallway was desolate, the door was locked, the lights were off and no one, not even a hallway aid was to be found. Panic set in. I decided to screw everything, and run for the hills. So I headed for the back door, and busted through.
I was half way down the grand staircase that led to the playground when I saw my class lined up a safe distance away from the school. They were either pointing, or waving at me to come join them. I was totally mortified, and wanted the whole ordeal to be over, so I sprinted down the staircase, across the playground, past all the other K-4Th grade classes, and finally joined my class, in the back of the line.
After I regained normal blood pressure, I looked down, and to my horror, I had a line of toilet paper attached to my shoe. Actually, that would have been the case if the gods were kind. As I reached down to tear the toilet paper off of my shoe, I turned a hundred shades of pink, at the realization that the line of toilet paper was much much bigger than I had expected, and originated from my underwear. In my haste to get out of the burning building, I pulled my pants up while I still had some fluffy barriers stuck to my tush. Then, purple-paisley-kite-Rinny Chariot of Fire-d down the grand staircase, and paraded herself across the playground in front of the entire school.
It was not one of my finer moments. Fourth grade sucks.
Monday, August 20, 2012
Thursday, May 10, 2012
Rumsprinkler
So minions, today I'm going to take a different approach to storytelling. Let's talk about something painful. Something I've buried so deep in my psyche, that one day, if I do actually punch a care bear, even B.D. Wong will take a look at my past, and be like "ohhhhhh, ok. That care bear totally had it coming."
And no, I know what you're thinking, and this is not the story about the time I was in 5th grade, and all I wanted to do was take a picture with a cut out of Jon Bon Jovi, and make it look as life like as humanly possible so I could brag to my friends, but the photographer with a heavy Indian accent insisted in broken English that I put my hand on the cut-out's bare hairy chest, and I was like 'dude, I'm only a kid,' but he didn't care, and I'm making this face in the photo that is like 'oh my God, get me out of here.' This story is WAY more awkward than that.
Since I don't have any pictures of this incident, or, at least none that I care to share, I figure now is a good a time as any to tell the harrowing tale of Rinny's family vacation vs. The Amish.
Truth be told, this is probably the ONLY stupid story in my repertoire, that still gets me angry. I don't think it's funny. Not one bit. However, every time I meet a new boyfriend, or introduce anyone in my family to anyone else, the subject of this story inevitably comes up. So I'm putting the kibosh on that tradition right here and now. The whole world is about to hear the story, and then we're never to talk about it again, mmkay?
I must have been in fourth grade. No, actually I take that back. Now that I think about it, I know for a fact that this was the summer between the third and fourth grade. The reason I know this, is that after this family vacation we moved (totally a coincidence, I didn't have my family excommunicated or anything), and I started telling everyone in my new school that I was Amish, and I had never seen electricity, or pencil sharpeners, as a coping mechanism for the fact that I was the new girl, and people were making fun of me.
(Note to fourth grade self--wow, really? Genius.)
(Note to fellow fourth graders--you bullied me because I was new, but let the Amish thing slide? Who's laughing now?!?)
I have a friend who, to this day, if I do something stupid will say "it's OK, you don't know any better. You were brought up Amish." She gets a pass. No one else is allowed to say anything about it. We made a deal, remember?
Anyway, one morning of our vacation, my parents decided to take a break from Pennsylvania Dutch-ing, to take my sister and I to play mini-golf. It was mostly a fun in the sun type of day. I wore my new mesh hair bow that I bought from the Amish gift haus, along with my my favorite red t-shirt and matching red spandex shorts. (What do you want, this was the 80's). Things were going great, until about the second to last hole. The penultimate hole, if you will.
It looked easy enough, and had a par 3. My sister and I both made par, and took a break to sit on some rocks while my parents battled it out for dead last.
After about an hour of watching both of them miss time and again I began to get delirious, and it actually started to become funny. Twenty more minutes passed, and finally my father was close enough to the hole to just tap the ball lightly, and sink it.
To my fathers credit, he did what he was supposed to, but the mini golf Gods were angry that day, and his ball did that 'nope, just kidding, gonna make it look like I'm sunk, but really I'm going to circumvent this hole right here, and roll even further away, and into a sand trap' thing they are all trained to do.
Being young girls, my sister and I naturally took our mother's side on everything, and we began to laugh hysterically at my father.
I was laughing so hard, that I threw my head back, which knocked me off balance, and everyone (except the Russian judge, of course) gave me a perfect 10 on my backwards swan dive into hole 4's water trap.
Did I mention that in Amish country they dye their mini-golf water bright blue?
It stained my skin, I ruined my new bow, and I had to strip naked in front of all of God's country, and wear my father's heavy denim jacket as a dress for the rest of the day. Oh sure, let's take a bright blue kid, with a bright blue bow in her hair, and stick her in a bright blue and white denim jacket dress for the duration of the day. No seriously, my dad's jacket just so happened to match my skin. You can't make this stuff up.
And YES, I was more upset about the denim jacket dress than I was about having to strip naked.
It totally didn't match my Keds.
And no, I know what you're thinking, and this is not the story about the time I was in 5th grade, and all I wanted to do was take a picture with a cut out of Jon Bon Jovi, and make it look as life like as humanly possible so I could brag to my friends, but the photographer with a heavy Indian accent insisted in broken English that I put my hand on the cut-out's bare hairy chest, and I was like 'dude, I'm only a kid,' but he didn't care, and I'm making this face in the photo that is like 'oh my God, get me out of here.' This story is WAY more awkward than that.
Since I don't have any pictures of this incident, or, at least none that I care to share, I figure now is a good a time as any to tell the harrowing tale of Rinny's family vacation vs. The Amish.
Truth be told, this is probably the ONLY stupid story in my repertoire, that still gets me angry. I don't think it's funny. Not one bit. However, every time I meet a new boyfriend, or introduce anyone in my family to anyone else, the subject of this story inevitably comes up. So I'm putting the kibosh on that tradition right here and now. The whole world is about to hear the story, and then we're never to talk about it again, mmkay?
I must have been in fourth grade. No, actually I take that back. Now that I think about it, I know for a fact that this was the summer between the third and fourth grade. The reason I know this, is that after this family vacation we moved (totally a coincidence, I didn't have my family excommunicated or anything), and I started telling everyone in my new school that I was Amish, and I had never seen electricity, or pencil sharpeners, as a coping mechanism for the fact that I was the new girl, and people were making fun of me.
(Note to fourth grade self--wow, really? Genius.)
(Note to fellow fourth graders--you bullied me because I was new, but let the Amish thing slide? Who's laughing now?!?)
I have a friend who, to this day, if I do something stupid will say "it's OK, you don't know any better. You were brought up Amish." She gets a pass. No one else is allowed to say anything about it. We made a deal, remember?
Anyway, one morning of our vacation, my parents decided to take a break from Pennsylvania Dutch-ing, to take my sister and I to play mini-golf. It was mostly a fun in the sun type of day. I wore my new mesh hair bow that I bought from the Amish gift haus, along with my my favorite red t-shirt and matching red spandex shorts. (What do you want, this was the 80's). Things were going great, until about the second to last hole. The penultimate hole, if you will.
It looked easy enough, and had a par 3. My sister and I both made par, and took a break to sit on some rocks while my parents battled it out for dead last.
After about an hour of watching both of them miss time and again I began to get delirious, and it actually started to become funny. Twenty more minutes passed, and finally my father was close enough to the hole to just tap the ball lightly, and sink it.
To my fathers credit, he did what he was supposed to, but the mini golf Gods were angry that day, and his ball did that 'nope, just kidding, gonna make it look like I'm sunk, but really I'm going to circumvent this hole right here, and roll even further away, and into a sand trap' thing they are all trained to do.
Being young girls, my sister and I naturally took our mother's side on everything, and we began to laugh hysterically at my father.
I was laughing so hard, that I threw my head back, which knocked me off balance, and everyone (except the Russian judge, of course) gave me a perfect 10 on my backwards swan dive into hole 4's water trap.
Did I mention that in Amish country they dye their mini-golf water bright blue?
It stained my skin, I ruined my new bow, and I had to strip naked in front of all of God's country, and wear my father's heavy denim jacket as a dress for the rest of the day. Oh sure, let's take a bright blue kid, with a bright blue bow in her hair, and stick her in a bright blue and white denim jacket dress for the duration of the day. No seriously, my dad's jacket just so happened to match my skin. You can't make this stuff up.
And YES, I was more upset about the denim jacket dress than I was about having to strip naked.
It totally didn't match my Keds.
Monday, May 7, 2012
What's The Buzzzzzzz
OK first, let me say that I don't know how long I've been out of the loop, but I do NOT like blogspot's new layout. Like at all. I can't find the spell checker, or do anything. It makes me want to punch care bears.
Speaking of things that make me want to punch care bears, my computer broke recently, taking with it my TWO blog stories that I was almost finished with. Luckily, blogspot has them saved, but one of the stories does not have pictures, and will not have pictures until I get a new computer and have the geek squad perform a pensive spell on it, to extract all my lost information. So needless to say it's going to be a while. And I refuse to post the story without pictures, since I worked so hard on them. But trust me, it's funny.
So, I figured I'd go back to my old style of blogging. Remember, back in the day how I used to post stories like this one here without pictures? Well, since the only access I have to a computer is at work, let's go back to that format for the time being. Sure, the stories probably won't be as funny, but at least you will have something to entertain you, right minions?
Anyway, for today's post, I have come up with a prime example of how God hates me. It's true. Remember when I posted this story here, and at the end I stated that the world was once again a happy place since Deborah Gibson was gone from it? Well, guess who showed up in the world again? Yup, Debbie Gibson, and she was on one of my favorite shows--Celebrity Apprentice. The only comfort I found in this atrocity, was the fact that a fellow contestant (Aubrey O'Day) kept making fun of her, calling her out dated, or old, or whatever. Every task they were assined consisted of Deborah (who now goes by Debbie again), trying to make herself the star by staging what Aubrey would call her "comeback tour," and everyone agreed Debbie Gibson SUCKED. I'm not really a big fan of Aubrey either, but I have two favorite female singers. Natalie Toro, and whoever is making Debbie Gibson sound bad. As an aside, I never realized Debbie Gibson had such a bad lisp. Poor girl. Not really.
So after what seemed like a frikken eternity Debbie was finally fired, and much to my boyfriend's dismay, disappeared from my life once again....almost.
This girl is like the bee that you find in your pool, and try to trap in the skimmer, and drown, but no matter how long you hold it's little bee body under water the damn thing wont die, it just keeps walking around the skimmer mocking you like "dooo dee dooo deee dooo, didn't you get the memo that bees have evolved and can now breathe through their stingers? No? Ok, well dum de dooooo this is a refreshing dip in the pool," but you can't just walk away from the bee, because you know that bee has developed a personal vendetta against you, and will call in swarms of backup the second you let him out of the net, and you're like dammit little bee, I'm bigger, and stronger, and smarter than you, WHY WON'T YOU JUST DIE?!?!?! And then after a few more minutes of this you just give up, and sploosh it over the side of the pool, and it dies from the fall, but then when you're done swimming you forget about it and accidentally step on his little squishy, water logged, bee stinger ass while you're on your way to get money because you hear the ice cream man approaching, but then you miss out on all the fun because now you're torn between the importance of stressing to everyone within ear shot how grossed out you are that you just squished a bee between your toes, versus the importance of having to find your epi-pen, so you can stab yourself before your throat closes up? YEAH. That is Debbie Gibson.
After the penultimate episode of Celebrity Apprentice last night, they showed previews for next week's finale, and there she was in all her lispy, crows-feeted glory.
Will someone please just throw her over the edge of the pool, already?
Speaking of things that make me want to punch care bears, my computer broke recently, taking with it my TWO blog stories that I was almost finished with. Luckily, blogspot has them saved, but one of the stories does not have pictures, and will not have pictures until I get a new computer and have the geek squad perform a pensive spell on it, to extract all my lost information. So needless to say it's going to be a while. And I refuse to post the story without pictures, since I worked so hard on them. But trust me, it's funny.
So, I figured I'd go back to my old style of blogging. Remember, back in the day how I used to post stories like this one here without pictures? Well, since the only access I have to a computer is at work, let's go back to that format for the time being. Sure, the stories probably won't be as funny, but at least you will have something to entertain you, right minions?
Anyway, for today's post, I have come up with a prime example of how God hates me. It's true. Remember when I posted this story here, and at the end I stated that the world was once again a happy place since Deborah Gibson was gone from it? Well, guess who showed up in the world again? Yup, Debbie Gibson, and she was on one of my favorite shows--Celebrity Apprentice. The only comfort I found in this atrocity, was the fact that a fellow contestant (Aubrey O'Day) kept making fun of her, calling her out dated, or old, or whatever. Every task they were assined consisted of Deborah (who now goes by Debbie again), trying to make herself the star by staging what Aubrey would call her "comeback tour," and everyone agreed Debbie Gibson SUCKED. I'm not really a big fan of Aubrey either, but I have two favorite female singers. Natalie Toro, and whoever is making Debbie Gibson sound bad. As an aside, I never realized Debbie Gibson had such a bad lisp. Poor girl. Not really.
So after what seemed like a frikken eternity Debbie was finally fired, and much to my boyfriend's dismay, disappeared from my life once again....almost.
This girl is like the bee that you find in your pool, and try to trap in the skimmer, and drown, but no matter how long you hold it's little bee body under water the damn thing wont die, it just keeps walking around the skimmer mocking you like "dooo dee dooo deee dooo, didn't you get the memo that bees have evolved and can now breathe through their stingers? No? Ok, well dum de dooooo this is a refreshing dip in the pool," but you can't just walk away from the bee, because you know that bee has developed a personal vendetta against you, and will call in swarms of backup the second you let him out of the net, and you're like dammit little bee, I'm bigger, and stronger, and smarter than you, WHY WON'T YOU JUST DIE?!?!?! And then after a few more minutes of this you just give up, and sploosh it over the side of the pool, and it dies from the fall, but then when you're done swimming you forget about it and accidentally step on his little squishy, water logged, bee stinger ass while you're on your way to get money because you hear the ice cream man approaching, but then you miss out on all the fun because now you're torn between the importance of stressing to everyone within ear shot how grossed out you are that you just squished a bee between your toes, versus the importance of having to find your epi-pen, so you can stab yourself before your throat closes up? YEAH. That is Debbie Gibson.
After the penultimate episode of Celebrity Apprentice last night, they showed previews for next week's finale, and there she was in all her lispy, crows-feeted glory.
Will someone please just throw her over the edge of the pool, already?
You Know How Much I Love Lists!
I'm back, baby!!! I can't promise that I will update frequently (espescially since I HATE my new computer, and all the fun new things I can do with MS paint), but I will try! And awayyyyyyy we go.....
Top 6 Things You Can Do While Your Volkswagen That Hates You Is Still In The Shop, Costing You More Than You Would Pay For That Tummy Tuck You've Been Wanting, And A Vacation To Aruba Combined, Then Your Cable Goes Out And The Technician Can't Come Replace The Box For A Week;
1) Take up a new hobby;
2)Force yourself to enjoy reading;
3)Stay healthy/test out that pedometer you got for Christmas, by running around your neighborhood;
4)Plot the demise of all those who have wronged you;
5)Teach yourself a new language;
Et Madames, et Monsieurs, Je Te presente mon suggestion finale.........
Write/Draw TWO BLOG POSTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Top 6 Things You Can Do While Your Volkswagen That Hates You Is Still In The Shop, Costing You More Than You Would Pay For That Tummy Tuck You've Been Wanting, And A Vacation To Aruba Combined, Then Your Cable Goes Out And The Technician Can't Come Replace The Box For A Week;
1) Take up a new hobby;
2)Force yourself to enjoy reading;
3)Stay healthy/test out that pedometer you got for Christmas, by running around your neighborhood;
4)Plot the demise of all those who have wronged you;
5)Teach yourself a new language;
Et Madames, et Monsieurs, Je Te presente mon suggestion finale.........
Write/Draw TWO BLOG POSTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
The End Of All Things
Hello again, minions!!! It's a new year, a new me, but still the same old crazy stuff happens! I'm looking forward to updating this blog with new and improved stories for ya. I had to break into my old email, reset my password, and call customer service a few times, but I'm finally up and running! I wanted to post something as soon as possible so I could show all my minions that I'm still dedicated to bringing you a hilarious blog, but these things take time....and if you need to ask "how much time?" Then you should probably go back and refresh yourself on how much work I put into this crap. In the meantime, I figured I'd give you a little fluff....
Those of you who know me well, know that there is one thing in this world that will make me pee myself laughing.
Animal butts.
I think they are the cutest, funniest, most hideous things on the planet. If we ever fight (which shouldn't ever happen since my minions SHOULD know their place) you can be sure the fight will end with the utterance of two words; mmmmmmmmmmmmmonkey butt. True story. It's been proven time and again.
Well anyway, seems as if the day I visit Disney's Animal Kingdom, all the animals were giving me the cold shoulder. I felt like the luckiest girl in the world! Observe;
Antelope butt
Bat badonk a donk
Elephant butte
Giraffe Giunk
Gorilla Butt
Hippopota-hiney
Kanga-bootie
Rhinocer-ass
Tiger Tush
And just to prove that Disney caters to ALL types of sick and demented people;
Mermaid coolie!!!
It's the little things in life. But Stay tuned, theres more to come soon!
Those of you who know me well, know that there is one thing in this world that will make me pee myself laughing.
Animal butts.
I think they are the cutest, funniest, most hideous things on the planet. If we ever fight (which shouldn't ever happen since my minions SHOULD know their place) you can be sure the fight will end with the utterance of two words; mmmmmmmmmmmmmonkey butt. True story. It's been proven time and again.
Well anyway, seems as if the day I visit Disney's Animal Kingdom, all the animals were giving me the cold shoulder. I felt like the luckiest girl in the world! Observe;
Antelope butt
Bat badonk a donk
Elephant butte
Giraffe Giunk
Gorilla Butt
Hippopota-hiney
Kanga-bootie
Rhinocer-ass
Tiger Tush
And just to prove that Disney caters to ALL types of sick and demented people;
Mermaid coolie!!!
It's the little things in life. But Stay tuned, theres more to come soon!
Friday, July 8, 2011
Desperately Seeking Bob Loblaw
**Disclaimer; this post was written the beginning of May, but due to legal reasons I was not able to post until now. Therefore, some information may be slightly outdated.
Minions, It's been said that if you can't laugh about your problems, you'd probably cry. I don't know if this necessarily applies to your lives (I hope for your sake that it doesn't), but it sure as f**k applies to mine. I suppose I really should be thankful, since I wouldn't have this uber successful blog if it wasn't for my stupid/ironic/unlucky life but still, sometimes things just start to go too well, so life has to come around and bite you right in the ass.
Take Memorial Day weekend for example. As you may or may not know, I spend half my life in the wonderful state of Pennsylvania, and the weekends in the, umm...well...weekends I spend in Virginia. I'm currently mad at Virginia, so it gets no adjectives.
The weekend started out normal. I tricked the 3 year old I baby-sit for into turning around so I could make a mad dash to my car, where I had a Full Throttle energy drink, and some beef jerky already waiting for me. Minions, it always pays off to plan ahead!
Well, about ten minutes into my trip all these lights went on,
and my car died on the road. I don't really want to get into the details, because it was scary and it totally sucked, but basically I'm going to use the art of foreshadowing right now by telling you that I would have my foot on the floor and my car would not go above 10MPH.
Never one to admit defeat, however, I finagled a way to use my tiptronic to make the journey to Virginia despite the fact that **I'd lose control, and my car would shake uncontrollably if I went near the 80MPH mark....and 80MPH was the fastest my car was capable of driving** How I was able to make the trip is not important, it's just important to note that I am awesome and when it comes to Rinny vs. technology I WIN!
The next day I spent $70 and four hours in the waiting room at Volkswagen for them to tell me they found nothing wrong with my car. (This would be a good time to read or re-read my post about how my car wants me to be sent to the "relaxation home"). Since I didn't want to spend $600 for them to fix what they (and I quote) "think could possibly be causing the issue" I figured I'd just suck it up for a while and not *drive above 80MPH* . I could live with that for the time being.
The rest of the weekend totally sucked because I had severe anxiety about getting back to Pennsylvania with my car being in the state it was in, but eventually I had to suck it up, shift my car into tiptronic mode, and pray that my car made it back to Pennsylvania without further incident.
Again, ten minutes into my trip my luck went sour. Now it's important to note that I usually embellish my stories, but for legal reasons, this part is completely factual, and happened in the style of Final Destination;
In my rear view mirror, I saw a car approaching rather hastily, so I changed lanes (into the right lane) so they could pass. Right after I changed lanes the 18 wheeler in front of me jammed on his brakes, causing me to slam on mine. That's when I saw the state trooper pull out from his post. Now it is also important to note that the trooper pulled out onto the highway BEFORE I crossed his path, and I laughed at the poor sucker that he was after. Well the trooper slowed and got behind me and stayed there for a while. OK I thought, maybe his shift was over and he was returning to his office. But then his lights went on. At that moment I thought he was going after the 18 wheeler for slamming his brakes, and I started thinking about how I would get out of his way so he could do his thing, but then he gestured for ME to pull over!!! I was very confused, but compliant, and miraculously my window was working.
To spare you the boring details, the trooper basically stated that he clocked me going 88 mph in a 65 mph zone. Ironically, I had a 70 MPH sign staring at me from about five feet away. Also ironically, 88MPH is the exact speed that the Delorean must go to activate it's time travelling features. F**k Marty Mc Fly's unruly children, if I could go back to the future I'd be sure to be driving a cool 45 MPH through the entire county of Augusta.
It gets better. In Virginia, driving over 80 MPH is a class three misdemeanor, with some pretty hefty penalties. I repeat, any speed over 80MPH, or driving 20MPH over the limit is considered reckless driving. So, I have TWO counts of reckless driving. A reckless driving conviction could result in (among other penalties) up to ONE YEAR PRISON TIME! WTF?!? Dude, in NY people show up to court, get their speeding tickets reduced to a faulty brake light, pay the $50 fine and live to drive 90mph the next day with a free and clear driving record. My ex boyfriend walked away scott free form driving 95 in a 55, but the south sucks, and now I need to keep my squeaky clean ass from obtaining a criminal record, and at the time all the good lawyers were either dead or defending Casey Anderson.
I also found out that all jails in Virginia are like maximum security prisons. There's no such thing as a pretty girl prison in the commonwealth of Virginia. So, Joran Van Der Sloot is gonna walk, and Martha Stewart got reduced to wearing an anklet that she decoupaged, Lindsay Lohan threw a party, and Khloe Kardashian was too chunky for prison, but I'M gonna be spending life on the rock for something I didn't even do? JAIL, MINIONS!!!
And if my life wasn't ironic enough, my court date is July 5Th. So, I could be sentenced to prison the very next day after independence day? You better believe I am going to party my ass off that weekend. Unless aliens invade the earth. Then I'd motion for a continuance so I can join the army. That's gotta get me time off for good behavior.
Now, this is the part I'm sure you've all been scratcing your heads about. Remember what I said before? That my car hates me and won't drive above 80MPH. Yeah, that. Not only that, but the truck in front of me slammed on their brakes, causing me to slow down. So I'm supposed to believe that my car--the one that physically CAN NOT go above 80MPH SLOWED to 88MPH? Not likely. I do have papers from Volkswagen stating that I have this problem with my car, but it's my understanding that even if Jerry Gallo were defending me, it wouldn't matter. Radar gun wins.
So basically, I'm pretty much at the mercy of the jury. It makes me feel kinda important, and squishy inside that some asshole is getting a jury duty notice right now for MY case, but at least I now have a purpose in life.
Now, I strongly feel that this unfortunate incident has not yet reached maximum ridiculousness, so I invite you all to write strongly worded letters to your state senator, start a petition, and protest during my trial. Which leads me to my next minion challenge;
What should my tag line be? OJ had "if the glove don't fit, you must acquit" and "the juice is loose" so mine has to be of equal caliber for an equally heinous crime. The winner gets to display their tag line on my picket signs during the media coverage of my trial. So have at it minions....GOOD LUCK!!
**UPDATE Minions, once again justice hath prevailed. My trial came and went, and ironically, Casey Anthony and I were proclaimed "not guilty" on the same day. But I still want a tag line!!!! You know, just in case it happens again.
Minions, It's been said that if you can't laugh about your problems, you'd probably cry. I don't know if this necessarily applies to your lives (I hope for your sake that it doesn't), but it sure as f**k applies to mine. I suppose I really should be thankful, since I wouldn't have this uber successful blog if it wasn't for my stupid/ironic/unlucky life but still, sometimes things just start to go too well, so life has to come around and bite you right in the ass.
Take Memorial Day weekend for example. As you may or may not know, I spend half my life in the wonderful state of Pennsylvania, and the weekends in the, umm...well...weekends I spend in Virginia. I'm currently mad at Virginia, so it gets no adjectives.
The weekend started out normal. I tricked the 3 year old I baby-sit for into turning around so I could make a mad dash to my car, where I had a Full Throttle energy drink, and some beef jerky already waiting for me. Minions, it always pays off to plan ahead!
Well, about ten minutes into my trip all these lights went on,
and my car died on the road. I don't really want to get into the details, because it was scary and it totally sucked, but basically I'm going to use the art of foreshadowing right now by telling you that I would have my foot on the floor and my car would not go above 10MPH.
Never one to admit defeat, however, I finagled a way to use my tiptronic to make the journey to Virginia despite the fact that **I'd lose control, and my car would shake uncontrollably if I went near the 80MPH mark....and 80MPH was the fastest my car was capable of driving** How I was able to make the trip is not important, it's just important to note that I am awesome and when it comes to Rinny vs. technology I WIN!
The next day I spent $70 and four hours in the waiting room at Volkswagen for them to tell me they found nothing wrong with my car. (This would be a good time to read or re-read my post about how my car wants me to be sent to the "relaxation home"). Since I didn't want to spend $600 for them to fix what they (and I quote) "think could possibly be causing the issue" I figured I'd just suck it up for a while and not *drive above 80MPH* . I could live with that for the time being.
The rest of the weekend totally sucked because I had severe anxiety about getting back to Pennsylvania with my car being in the state it was in, but eventually I had to suck it up, shift my car into tiptronic mode, and pray that my car made it back to Pennsylvania without further incident.
Again, ten minutes into my trip my luck went sour. Now it's important to note that I usually embellish my stories, but for legal reasons, this part is completely factual, and happened in the style of Final Destination;
In my rear view mirror, I saw a car approaching rather hastily, so I changed lanes (into the right lane) so they could pass. Right after I changed lanes the 18 wheeler in front of me jammed on his brakes, causing me to slam on mine. That's when I saw the state trooper pull out from his post. Now it is also important to note that the trooper pulled out onto the highway BEFORE I crossed his path, and I laughed at the poor sucker that he was after. Well the trooper slowed and got behind me and stayed there for a while. OK I thought, maybe his shift was over and he was returning to his office. But then his lights went on. At that moment I thought he was going after the 18 wheeler for slamming his brakes, and I started thinking about how I would get out of his way so he could do his thing, but then he gestured for ME to pull over!!! I was very confused, but compliant, and miraculously my window was working.
To spare you the boring details, the trooper basically stated that he clocked me going 88 mph in a 65 mph zone. Ironically, I had a 70 MPH sign staring at me from about five feet away. Also ironically, 88MPH is the exact speed that the Delorean must go to activate it's time travelling features. F**k Marty Mc Fly's unruly children, if I could go back to the future I'd be sure to be driving a cool 45 MPH through the entire county of Augusta.
It gets better. In Virginia, driving over 80 MPH is a class three misdemeanor, with some pretty hefty penalties. I repeat, any speed over 80MPH, or driving 20MPH over the limit is considered reckless driving. So, I have TWO counts of reckless driving. A reckless driving conviction could result in (among other penalties) up to ONE YEAR PRISON TIME! WTF?!? Dude, in NY people show up to court, get their speeding tickets reduced to a faulty brake light, pay the $50 fine and live to drive 90mph the next day with a free and clear driving record. My ex boyfriend walked away scott free form driving 95 in a 55, but the south sucks, and now I need to keep my squeaky clean ass from obtaining a criminal record, and at the time all the good lawyers were either dead or defending Casey Anderson.
I also found out that all jails in Virginia are like maximum security prisons. There's no such thing as a pretty girl prison in the commonwealth of Virginia. So, Joran Van Der Sloot is gonna walk, and Martha Stewart got reduced to wearing an anklet that she decoupaged, Lindsay Lohan threw a party, and Khloe Kardashian was too chunky for prison, but I'M gonna be spending life on the rock for something I didn't even do? JAIL, MINIONS!!!
And if my life wasn't ironic enough, my court date is July 5Th. So, I could be sentenced to prison the very next day after independence day? You better believe I am going to party my ass off that weekend. Unless aliens invade the earth. Then I'd motion for a continuance so I can join the army. That's gotta get me time off for good behavior.
Now, this is the part I'm sure you've all been scratcing your heads about. Remember what I said before? That my car hates me and won't drive above 80MPH. Yeah, that. Not only that, but the truck in front of me slammed on their brakes, causing me to slow down. So I'm supposed to believe that my car--the one that physically CAN NOT go above 80MPH SLOWED to 88MPH? Not likely. I do have papers from Volkswagen stating that I have this problem with my car, but it's my understanding that even if Jerry Gallo were defending me, it wouldn't matter. Radar gun wins.
So basically, I'm pretty much at the mercy of the jury. It makes me feel kinda important, and squishy inside that some asshole is getting a jury duty notice right now for MY case, but at least I now have a purpose in life.
Now, I strongly feel that this unfortunate incident has not yet reached maximum ridiculousness, so I invite you all to write strongly worded letters to your state senator, start a petition, and protest during my trial. Which leads me to my next minion challenge;
What should my tag line be? OJ had "if the glove don't fit, you must acquit" and "the juice is loose" so mine has to be of equal caliber for an equally heinous crime. The winner gets to display their tag line on my picket signs during the media coverage of my trial. So have at it minions....GOOD LUCK!!
**UPDATE Minions, once again justice hath prevailed. My trial came and went, and ironically, Casey Anthony and I were proclaimed "not guilty" on the same day. But I still want a tag line!!!! You know, just in case it happens again.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
The Most Epic Post Ever
Just kidding, it's not even really that good. But since you're reading you might as well keep going. Sticking with your commitments is always important, minions.
But anyway, I was home (the one in NY) last weekend, and I was cleaning out my drawer of important shit. It was hilarious (and a bit moving)to look back at what was important when I was approximately 14-16 years old. But one item in particular really stood out, and compelled me to write this post.
Some of the more crazy items in my drawer included;
*The insert with all the lyrics that came in my Phantom Of The Opera CD.
*A playbill from Miss Saigon.
*A love note written by my eighth grade boyfriend.
*A lighter I found in my driveway, and kept so I could have street cred.
Etc, etc.
But then some of the items in my important shit drawer made sense;
*The claddagh ring my mother got me from Ireland.
*The guitar pick my Uncle Tom gave me when I started playing guitar,
and most importantly, an old Les Miserables program autographed by (UGH)Deborah Gibson, and my ultimate ultimate mega uber super idol Natalie Toro.
Natalie Toro was the reason that I was obsessed with Les Miserables, and the reason I fell in love with the theater. Once I heard her sing I was hooked. She's beyond incredible.
I actually had the opportunity to meet her when she was doing a community show in Armonk. She had heard about me (through a friend of mine who was also in the show), and came into the audience during intermission specifically to see me. Then she signed my program with "Dear Corinne, thank you so much for believing in me. Love Always, Natalie Toro. To say it made my life is an understatement. I seriously didn't stop crying for three whole days. I'd get myself under control, and then I'd start thinking about how kind she was, and the ordeal I had to go through to find her, and I'd lose it again.
But seriously it was not easy to track the woman down! The story went like this;
I had gotten tickets to Les Miserables for my 14Th birthday, and like I said I was amazed by Natalie Toro (who played Eponine). My BFF and her parents also went, and the next day BFF bragged to me about how she waited at the stage door after the performance, and met the entire cast. I decided right then and there that I HAD to go see Les Mis again, and THIS TIME I'd meet Natalie Toro.
Well, my parents were very generous to my sister and I, but they did not spoil us. I was told I could go back to see Les Miserables when I had saved up enough money for a ticket. For a fourteen year old child with no job, it meant a lot of man hours making beds, and folding laundry.
I wonder if she's ever going to read this and if she does if she remembers me. (HI NATALIE TORO! Remember me, the 15 year old girl who started bawling when she met you during your stint in Revelations? I still love you!!!!!)
Anyway, I had finally saved up enough money to buy a third row center ticket. I wanted to be as close as possible to my idol, and I wanted her to see me be the first one to give her a standing ovation during the curtain call. Well, a few days before I was destined to meet my idol, my mother showed me an article in the newspaper. It was devastating.
I cried for as long as I could remember, but I still vowed that I would go see the show and meet the other actors I was interested in meeting. Let me just reiterate that I was NOT happy to meet Debby Gibson--who at this point was going by "Deborah Gibson."
Tragedy struck again at the theater. The program I had bought during my first visit was stolen during the intermission. Like seriously, what kind of douche bag steals from a teenager? In any case, I was forced to buy a new program and I prayed as hard as any fourteen year old could possibly pray that Natalie Toro's picture would still be staring back at me on pages nine and fifteen. No such luck. Oh, and not for nothin', but Debbie...sorry Deborah...Gibson absolutely sucked. And every critic, and even the PRODUCER agreed with me.
She wasn't much better in person either. She was a total See You Next Tuesday to all of her fans, and even proclaimed "I'm hungry, can we please get this over with?" She also had the balls to say "If I have to kiss one more baby, I'm going to run for Mayor." Seriously bitch? This is the life you chose and tons of people (including Natalie Toro, I'M SURE) would kill to be in your position. Stupid bitch. Yeah, I'm still holding a grudge. I was so angry, that I took my BFF's program, copied all the pictures of Natalie Toro, and pasted them over all the pictures of Debbie...Deborah, whatever Gibson. Obsessed much?
But in any case, Deborah Gibson and her career finally went away, and Natalie Toro is still awesome. Life worked out the way it was supposed to, and as I mentioned before, I had my moment where I got to meet Natalie Toro. So the story has a happy ending. Les Miserables celebrated it's 25Th anniversary by putting out THE BEST live version I've ever seen. And no, Deborah Stupid Gibson was not a part of it. Sadly, neither was Natalie Toro, but another fan fave Lea Salonga was in it. You should go buy it. Or just go buy it for me.
Oh right, so you are probably asking what my inspiration was for this post. Well, going back to the beginning of this post I mentioned that I found some pretty cool things in my drawer of important shit. This drawing was the first drawing I had ever attempted with whatever version of paint was available in the 90's and printed with one of those Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee, Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee printers that have the holes in the paper and take forever to finish printing. But, it's kind of ironic that Les Miserables celebrated it's 25Th anniversary, I found Natalie Toro on facebook, started this blog, AND found this drawing which confirmed that I really should look into a career in graphic design;
All within the same year, and Deborah Gibson is still M.I.A. Life is good, minions. Life is good.
But anyway, I was home (the one in NY) last weekend, and I was cleaning out my drawer of important shit. It was hilarious (and a bit moving)to look back at what was important when I was approximately 14-16 years old. But one item in particular really stood out, and compelled me to write this post.
Some of the more crazy items in my drawer included;
*The insert with all the lyrics that came in my Phantom Of The Opera CD.
*A playbill from Miss Saigon.
*A love note written by my eighth grade boyfriend.
*A lighter I found in my driveway, and kept so I could have street cred.
Etc, etc.
But then some of the items in my important shit drawer made sense;
*The claddagh ring my mother got me from Ireland.
*The guitar pick my Uncle Tom gave me when I started playing guitar,
and most importantly, an old Les Miserables program autographed by (UGH)Deborah Gibson, and my ultimate ultimate mega uber super idol Natalie Toro.
Natalie Toro was the reason that I was obsessed with Les Miserables, and the reason I fell in love with the theater. Once I heard her sing I was hooked. She's beyond incredible.
I actually had the opportunity to meet her when she was doing a community show in Armonk. She had heard about me (through a friend of mine who was also in the show), and came into the audience during intermission specifically to see me. Then she signed my program with "Dear Corinne, thank you so much for believing in me. Love Always, Natalie Toro. To say it made my life is an understatement. I seriously didn't stop crying for three whole days. I'd get myself under control, and then I'd start thinking about how kind she was, and the ordeal I had to go through to find her, and I'd lose it again.
But seriously it was not easy to track the woman down! The story went like this;
I had gotten tickets to Les Miserables for my 14Th birthday, and like I said I was amazed by Natalie Toro (who played Eponine). My BFF and her parents also went, and the next day BFF bragged to me about how she waited at the stage door after the performance, and met the entire cast. I decided right then and there that I HAD to go see Les Mis again, and THIS TIME I'd meet Natalie Toro.
Well, my parents were very generous to my sister and I, but they did not spoil us. I was told I could go back to see Les Miserables when I had saved up enough money for a ticket. For a fourteen year old child with no job, it meant a lot of man hours making beds, and folding laundry.
I wonder if she's ever going to read this and if she does if she remembers me. (HI NATALIE TORO! Remember me, the 15 year old girl who started bawling when she met you during your stint in Revelations? I still love you!!!!!)
Anyway, I had finally saved up enough money to buy a third row center ticket. I wanted to be as close as possible to my idol, and I wanted her to see me be the first one to give her a standing ovation during the curtain call. Well, a few days before I was destined to meet my idol, my mother showed me an article in the newspaper. It was devastating.
I cried for as long as I could remember, but I still vowed that I would go see the show and meet the other actors I was interested in meeting. Let me just reiterate that I was NOT happy to meet Debby Gibson--who at this point was going by "Deborah Gibson."
Tragedy struck again at the theater. The program I had bought during my first visit was stolen during the intermission. Like seriously, what kind of douche bag steals from a teenager? In any case, I was forced to buy a new program and I prayed as hard as any fourteen year old could possibly pray that Natalie Toro's picture would still be staring back at me on pages nine and fifteen. No such luck. Oh, and not for nothin', but Debbie...sorry Deborah...Gibson absolutely sucked. And every critic, and even the PRODUCER agreed with me.
She wasn't much better in person either. She was a total See You Next Tuesday to all of her fans, and even proclaimed "I'm hungry, can we please get this over with?" She also had the balls to say "If I have to kiss one more baby, I'm going to run for Mayor." Seriously bitch? This is the life you chose and tons of people (including Natalie Toro, I'M SURE) would kill to be in your position. Stupid bitch. Yeah, I'm still holding a grudge. I was so angry, that I took my BFF's program, copied all the pictures of Natalie Toro, and pasted them over all the pictures of Debbie...Deborah, whatever Gibson. Obsessed much?
But in any case, Deborah Gibson and her career finally went away, and Natalie Toro is still awesome. Life worked out the way it was supposed to, and as I mentioned before, I had my moment where I got to meet Natalie Toro. So the story has a happy ending. Les Miserables celebrated it's 25Th anniversary by putting out THE BEST live version I've ever seen. And no, Deborah Stupid Gibson was not a part of it. Sadly, neither was Natalie Toro, but another fan fave Lea Salonga was in it. You should go buy it. Or just go buy it for me.
Oh right, so you are probably asking what my inspiration was for this post. Well, going back to the beginning of this post I mentioned that I found some pretty cool things in my drawer of important shit. This drawing was the first drawing I had ever attempted with whatever version of paint was available in the 90's and printed with one of those Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee, Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee printers that have the holes in the paper and take forever to finish printing. But, it's kind of ironic that Les Miserables celebrated it's 25Th anniversary, I found Natalie Toro on facebook, started this blog, AND found this drawing which confirmed that I really should look into a career in graphic design;
All within the same year, and Deborah Gibson is still M.I.A. Life is good, minions. Life is good.
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