Call a carpenter, my glass ceiling is cracking!

ATTENTION ladies and gentlemen of the jury, quiet observers, those who own Michael Bolton casettes and those who do not, feminists, starving artists, democrats, members of PETA, fake blondes, and innocent by-standers:

Some of you may or may not know that there is a large gathering of democrats out west this week.  I guess you could even call it a “convention” of sorts.  I just need to steal a moment of your time to make a formal announcement.  Hilary, I know you are a very, very busy pantsuit-wearing feminazi, but I especially need you to pay attention to this …  As I was laying in my bed tonight, all of the sudden, pieces of glass started falling on my blanket.  At first, I was confused because I didn’t even know my ceiling was made of glass-or that it was so terribly high?  I mean, I’m able to vote and own land and start businesses and go to school past the age of 8…I had no idea.  From my understanding, you put 18 million cracks in it, which sounds like a bit of a hazard.  And seriously Hilrod?  I need to get some sleep here- not to mention, the obvious health and safety risks associated with said cracking glass ceiling.  [Also, will the price to replace my ceiling be included in the new universal healthcare plan?  I wasn’t quite sure where that would fit…]

 

“Although we weren’t able to shatter that highest, hardest glass ceiling this time, thanks to you, it’s got about 18 million cracks in it and the light is shining through like never before, filling us all with the hope and the sure knowledge that the path will be a little easier next time.” -Hilary Clinton [or some speech-writer guy]

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Let’s ride this Gazelle into the sunset, Tony.

So I finally broke down and bought cable.  Needless to say, other than HGTV [which teaches me awesomely useful things like how to turn my old lamp into a couch] I find it a huge waste of my time.  By this, I mean, that it now takes me an extra five minutes to scroll through all of my channels on Sunday night to realize that there is still nothing on. And no, I can’t just know that ahead of time. I still have to check. You know, just in case.

What’s the deal with weekend TV? Currently, as I’m writing this I have the option of watching the infomercial for either: a) Proactive Acne Solution. b) ScalpMed Hair Resoration. c) Urine Gone Pet Odor Eliminator. d) ShamWows. e) Tony Little’s Gazelle Freestyle.  OR I could watch HSN.  Somehow I always choose the exercise one.  I don’t actually watch it, but I have it playing in the background.  If everything is going according to plan, my abs will be subconsciously toned in no time…. which leaves me with:

**The Elephant’s 17 Rules You Should Probably Live By**

1. Don’t cry over spilt milk, unless if was effing hot.

2. Always remember that hot dates come and go, but STDs last a lifetime.

3. Carry a gun at all times.

4. Eat blueberries. and pomegrates. If you can’t eat them, then drink the juice. If you don’t like the taste, then get over it or suffer the consequences.

5. [#3 only applies if you live in Texas. or Nazi Germany.]

6. Whatever you do, do not consume shellfish and/or walnuts.

 

7. Smaller clothes don’t equal a smaller body.

8. She probably does just think of you like a brother.

9. He probably is just trying to get down your pants.

10. [regarding #4, according to my mother, these are the best things that you could ever consume. apparently, you shall become immortal if you ingest them and nothing will ever harm you.]

 

11. [only adhere to #6 if you break out in a rash and /or unsightly hives when consuming shellfish and /or walnuts.]

12. Follow the golden rule.

13. Honesty is the best policy.

14. True love lasts forever.

15. [#12-14 are impossible and monstrous loads of smelly crap. I would like to recant them if at all possible]

16. You can’t ever be too rich [crap! Oprah is way too rich]; too thin [shoot! Nicole Richey is way too thin] or too pretty.

17. Never date a salesman.  Or the next thing you know he will be borrowing your car and stealing the engagement ring that you had in your glove box to return to your ex-boyfriend.  Well, maybe that was just a string of bad luck, but I’m just throwing that out there.

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David Blaine sends his best.

Dear Avid Readers,

I can do nothing but apologize for the pain I’ve caused you.  You know, I can’t help but perform disappearing acts because it is in my blood.  I’m kind of over the whole leviating while holding my breath in a frozen block of ice gig…. that is SO last year.  And for all of this, I am truly sorry- and I mean that from the deepest depths of my attention-seeking, fake-magic-trick-doing soul. 

Begging for your forgiveness,

David Blaine 

thedailyelephant

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The Science of Dating: Know who you are

[Please be advised that the following case study is not only FDA approved, but it is the result of YEARS of research and should not be questioned]

 

I find that the whole dating process is nothing but a huge waste of time [and his money].  You may or may not agree with me, and as you could have guessed, I don’t care.  Here’s the problem:  you meet; you flirt; you have ridiculous, surfacey, nervous conversations that don’t make any sense; you date; you think you might have found “the one;” and a year later – BAM! You’re dating Psycho McBipolarPants.  But then it’s too late because you either feel sorry for them and can’t break it off or you’re too overwhelmed at the thought of starting over, so you just stick with the loser until three years have come and gone.

 

“So,” you ask, “how does one ever solve this age-old dilemma?”

 

Well, as usual, you’ve come to the right place.  By now, I’m sure some of you have realized that I am a savvy expert on several topics… but what you may not have realized is that I am also a scientist.  A scientist of love.  And I welcome you to the coolest, most color- coordinated laboratory you’ve ever been to.

 

It’s simple.  All you have to do when you meet someone is tell them what movie character you are.  As soon as you mention that, they will understand everything about your personality and life so that they can make an educated decision whether or not you’re meant to be.  If not, peace out sucka!  If you don’t know how to figure out what character you are, I’ll get you started with the following quiz of the most popular pesonality types [answers are written below]: 

 

1.  You’re one of those super nice-guy dormats.  You’re not materialistic, but you occasionally wear spandex and perhaps a Van Halen tshirt.  Your friend resembles Boy George.  You have a curly, Jewish mullet.  You like the Cure [and God love you for that].  Who are you?

 

2. You attended etiquette school, although you now pose nekkid for a mere $0.10.  You like long boat rides and dresses that cut off your air supply.  You were rescued from plumeting to a watery death by a strapping young gentleman.   You repaid him by not so much as sharing the slightest piece of your raft when he was dying of hypothermia in an abyss of blustery water.  Who are you?

 

3. You love reeses pieces, and you pick them up with your very long fingers.  No matter where you are, you love to call home.  Your very long fingers light up on occasion.  Who are you?

 

4.  You’re an avid collector… of skin, mostly.  You might have played hockey as a child, but now you wear a mouth guard for a different reason.  You can’t resist the Bath and Body Works 2 for $5 lotion special.  You’re voice is a bit creepy.  You’ve contemplated eating a few of your friends.  Who are you?

 

5.  You’ve been robbed, more than once.  You enjoy high risk sports – often inside the house.  Growing up, you hated your parents and your cousin often wetted the bed.  You’re scared of spiders, but are willing to touch a tarantula if need be.  You’re quite the ecape artist.  You have abandonment issues due to your parents leaving the country without you a couple times.  Who are you?

 

6.  You have a lucky streak.  You volunteered for the army.  You’re an entrepreneur who loves his mom.   You loved one girl your whole life, but she never paid attention to you until she was dying of AIDS.  You and your offspring are named after a large clump of trees.  Who are you?

 

7.  You believe in love at first sight.  You can think up some pretty sneaky plans… but when it comes to follow through you really suck.  You talk in Old English, and let’s face it, you aren’t that pretty.  You kill yourself at inconvenient times.  Who are you?

 

8.  You’re pretty, I’ll give ya that.  You think black boots go with everything.  If you get short on cash, you sell your body.  Who are you?

 

9.  You are pretty gullible.  You’re a loner.  You’ve spent most of your life hiding from love, but when you finally discover your dream girl – you find that she is actually an ogre, much like yourself.  Who are you?

 

1.  Robbie Heart [Wedding Singer]  2. Rose [Titanic]  3.  ET  4. Hannibal Lector [Silence of the Lambs] 5. Kevin [Home Alone]  6. Forrest Gump  7. Juliet  8. Pretty Woman  9. Shrek

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China + Olympics = Is there anything else on?

Listen.  I don’t give a crap about sports, unless someone is injuring themselves.  Heretofore, I don’t give a crap about the Olympics.  Maybe it’s because I’m ridiculously unsporty and non-competitive, I’m not entirely sure.  And maybe my unsportyness boils down to the fact that I have had to avoid activities that involve things flying at my head, due to the hole that was left in the side of my skull from a car accident when I was 16.  Could be.  

But who’s to know?

However, I must hand it to whomever is in charge of those heartwarming personal stories and inspirational Olympic commercials that leave you feeling proud to be an American.  But now follows the ever so deep soul-searching question: does this make the Olympics worth watching?  And that answer, my friends, is absolutely not.

 

In the way of the Olympics, the word on the street is that this happens to be an extra special year, considering China has stopped killing babies for a few weeks so they can host the world.  But given my rather frank disdain for all things oriental [with China receiving the brunt of my cynicism], this shatters any glimmer of hope that I may have watched them for even one second. 

So I say all that to say-  that this is probably, most likely not the place you want to come, to find anything Olympic-ish.  Sorry!

 

 

  

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“But Wait, I’m Too Fat To Die!”

A 5’7 267 lb. red-bearded, rather portly man convicted of raping and murdering two women [and scheduled to die on Oct. 14] is contesting that he is too fat, yes, too fat to die.   Poor Richard Cooey faced lethal injection five years ago and they had problems with his veins.  He says that with all the additional weight gain [what they feedin you up in that prison, boy?]  it will be even more of a challenge now,  and the lethal injection won’t be as effective.  Call me bold, but dare I raise the question, “then can’t we just give him more?”  I’m so confused, I mean, why is this an issue?  Why am I even talking about this?   Wait, we’re just trying to kill him, right?

 

"can't you see, i'm clearly TOO FAT to die!"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

His attorney also says his migraine medicine will negatively affect the execution process and it will lessen the affect of the injection, causing him to feel a lot of pain… um, I’m sorry, hold the phone – I’ll be right back...

Ok. 

WHAT just happened!?   Yea, I guess I see his point.  It would suck to suffer from a migraine while you’re being put to death…  OR maybe the reason it would suck is because you’re staring an inevitable, unknown, eternal doom right in the eyes?    Oh, poor wittle Richard…oh wait, I mean, poor waaaaaay too fat Richard.

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A Bankers Life: We’re ON Strike…from our Strike.

Everyday, on my way to work, I drive past a video store.  A couple days ago, I noticed three young men outside the store holding up “ON Strike!” signs.  OK.  My first thought was, is this a joke?  Are they really on strike from the video store, or have they just accidentally stood in front of it with strike signs?   It was hard for me to dicipher this since they were facing each other talking instead of actually protesting to the people driving by…

Low and behold, the following day – they’re still there.    Same guys.  Same configuration.  Same hard to read “ON Strike!” signs.  Maybe this isn’t a joke.

Third day, I drive by and the guys aren’t there…but a parked car has taken their place.  And when I take a second glance, I see three guys sitting inside the car, eating pizza, with the “ON Strike!” sign propped up on their car door.

now that’s how you prove a point.

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