Archive for May, 2008

 ok world, brace yourself. 

Claymates- my apologies.  I’m sure you’ve already taken this story and ran with it like an outta shape asthmatic kid chasing after an ice cream cart – so i apologize for being a little late in getting the news.  

 I don’t know if any of you remember this dorky young sapling, who was but merely an American idol auditionee once upon a time… but uh, he went on to become ungodly famous and serenade us with various a sentimental tune.  he also somehow managed to be turned into somewhat of a sex symbol (see exibit b).

And if you didn’t know that, then i’m sure you don’t know this.  Since the inception of Clay Aiken’s career, there has been much speculation about Clay’s heterosexuality – or lack thereof.  Every interview in which he has been asked the “gay” question, he simply responded with something such as “this is my private life, people can say whatever they want.”   Ok.  Sure.  That’s fair.  But come on!  Throw us a bone Clay!  All the little girlies wanna know is if they stand a chance or not! They’re aiken for an answer!  Blessed Respite! 



Well as it turns out, Clay Aiken is having a baby!! 


more importantly, with a woman! 

finally the Heavens have shone down upon us and revealed an answer. 


Not.  so.  fast. 


1. The woman is his roommate.

2. And she’s forty-ish. 

3. And she’s being artificially inseminated. 






What the ?  well.  i guess that solved nothing.  and as for all the girlies out there…

 the jury is still out.  

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now, since my number one priority is and always has been your comfort, i want you to kick back in that ridiculous thing you call a recliner (i mean, would it kill you to update it?),  turn on some smooth jazz (not so smooth that you pass out, but not so fast that you can’t fully absorb what i’m saying), take off your socks (but could you chill out with the canvas shoes already?)  and join me for a tall one as we solve the hardships of the world and scrutinize the problems of others.  shall we?


during the nice, long, and relaxing weekend i had some time to ponder my thoughts, catch my breath,  and  get down and dirty to the matter at hand, which is words that should exist.



 ORGANITY: a state of being that people achieve when they honestly believe that by paying twice as much for “certified organic” foods they are actually lengthening their lifespan. also, when they purchase the certifiably organic foods, they will most likely opt for a reusable bag instead of a plastic one so they can save the earth at the same time. 


DISCONFECT: To sterilize the piece of candy which you dropped on the floor by blowing on it, perhaps stroking it, and having full confidence this will remove all germs.




LACTOMANGULATION: Manhandling the “open here” spout on a milk carton so badly that you must resort to the illegal side.



CARPETUATION: The act, when vacuuming, of running over a piece of string at least a dozen times, reaching over and picking it up, examining it, then putting it down to give the vacuum one more chance.







CAPRIGROPATION: the delicate struggle that in sues when you have a Capri Sun and you’re attempting to get the straw through that ridiculous hole at the top of the package, all the while not squeezing too hard so that you don’t spray yourself with the paradise blend. 




PETROPHOBIC: One who is terrified to undress in front of a house pet.

dang fido, is it just me, or has she put on a few since Easter ?”





TELECRASTINATION: The act of letting the phone ring about three times, even though you’ve been anticipating that call for the better half of a week. Or perhaps your life.








 FRUST: The tiny line of debris that refuses to be swept up, thus backing a person across the entire room until they have reached surmountable frustrastion levels and sweep it under the fridge. 


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As previously stated –or not, unlike politicians or car salesmen, I try not to make any big promises.  So when I say this blog is mostly about relationships, clearly, I mean that its about 50% relationships, 50% random crap.    So in regards to the 50% random crap… insert topic [  work  ].

Being a banker provides me with endless entertainment and comic relief.  This whole stimulus check thing has increased the amount of entertainment I enjoy on any given day.  I will now share two recent examples with the whole class:

1.  Having people with emails such as: Too_good_4yoAss or FineLeGz34  or DontYOUwish calling three  OR four times a day asking:


 FineLeGz: “Um, yeeeaaaaa, I just need to know, did Bush put that money in my account yet?” 

 Me: siiiiiiiigh.  Pause.  “account number?”


 ..And I can tell they feel partly ashamed that they’re asking me since they’ve called last 24 days in a row.  And they know that I know their voice.  So the next time they call they try to modify it so I won’t catch on.  But don’t worry, I make sure they know I’m on to them.  Some attempts at modifications have included: 


A.) Too_Good: “yea, I was wondering if  you could check the past couple weeks and see if I got any deposits- say around 300 or 600 dollars?” 


Me: “oh, ok. so you’re checking on your stimulus payment?


B.) FineLeGz:  “I’m expecting a direct deposit to my account, can you tell me did I get anything in?” 

Me: “oh, for your payroll?” 

FineLeGz: “no i think it should be from the government or something.” 

Me: “oh, for social security?”

FineLeGz:  “no, i think there should be some kind a refund in there or something.”

Me: “oh, ok. So you’re checking on your stimulus payment?”

FineLeGz: “yea i guess.  whatever that is.”  (acting like its no big deal)


C.) DontYOUwish: “yea I  just need you to see if i got my stimulation yet?  i was trying to use the ultimatum (intending to say “automated” as in the telephone banking system) and it wasn’t letting me through.”


Me: [thinking, but not saying: “maam, i don’t want to discuss your sex life.” 



2. My second favorite kind of call is from the elderly white ladies who call the first day of EVERY month to make sure their social security was deposited in their account- and even though it is the EXACT same amount every month, they still ask how much it was.  Their conversations usually start like this:


Elderly lady: (no hello, no introduction) “I just want to say that I’m in America, I should not have to press 1 for English, you know.” 


Me: pause.  sure.  Account number?” 


Elderly lady: (hoping that they can irritate me enough so that they can strike up an argument) “well I’m just saying, I shouldn’t have to press 1, this is an English speaking country, you know?” 


Me: “yes. Yes, I know we’re in America.  Account number?”


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disclaimer:  dialogues featured on this blog may or may not be influenced by occurrences in my daily life, and they may or may not be exaggerated.


Him: can you trim my hair?  its getting kinda bushy on the sides.

Her:  yea, i can do it real quick before i leave.

Him: sweet.  thanks (puts towel around his shoulders and sits on the toilet)

Her:  (grabs the scissors, picks up the bathroom garbage can, and hands it to him)  here. can you hold this please so i can put the hair in it?

Him: not really.  its dirty.

Her: its dirty?

Him: yea.  dirty.

Her:  (ties the trash bag and sets it on the floor, then places the can back in his hands)  there. now its not dirty.

Him:  yes it is.  its been on the floor.

Her:  the floor? my floor is not dirty.  i’m a painfully tidy perfectionist, remember?

Him:  (begrudgingly places the can between his legs)

Her:  no.  (puts it back in his hands) i need you to hold it up higher so i can reach it.  otherwise, it defeats the purpose of having it there in the first place.

Him: i’m not holding it (hands it back to her)

Her:  you’re taking a shower after this, so what does it matter?  (hands it back)

Him:  (hands it back)  it matters because i don’t want to. thats why.

Her:  well you know what?  i  don’t really want to cut your hair when i’m running late but i am.  it’s not always about what you want.  i actually need you to hold the garbage can so it will be easier for me. 

don’t you think you’re acting a bit childish?

Him: so you’re calling me a child because i don’t want to hold a dusty, nasty crap bathroom garbage can that has pieces of your hair and chunks of gooey hair products and fiber bars stuck all over the bottom of it?

Her: oh, i’m sorry.  i’m sooooooo sorry that i have long hair and it gets all over everything.  last time i checked, you loved my hair.  would you like me to chop it all off?

Him: uuuuugh. 

Her: what?

Him: yes.  yes.  that is what i would prefer.  please cut your hair all off like a man so the garbage can won’t be gooey and hairy. 

then i can hold it.  then you can cut my hair.  then everything will be perfect and the stars will align,  hilary clinton go home, and evil dictators will acquire a soft spot and people everywhere will be free.

Moral of the story?



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