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Archive for the ‘self discovery’ Category

Well, it’s one month shy of my first post here at The Daily Elephant.   I would like to say a big thank you to all of you out there who actually take time out of your extremely busy lives [or so you say..] to read about my ridiculous life.  It has been my pleasure to get to know you all.  As much as I’ve loved my big, oversized, wrinkly elephant skin, – I need some space to breathe.  You know how I get restless.

The time has come to announce my new website, and I thank you for your patience.  Oh wait, you were a bunch of crazy LUNATICS continually griping in my ear everyday. 

I want you to know that in this era of social networking, twittering, and myspacing that YOU are the first ones to know about this wonderous new development.  And let me tell you something, you better come visit me cus that blog is nekkid!!!  And no,  it’s not the kind of nekkid you’d be excited about.   I spend countless hours copying some of my favorite blogs onto the new website so it wouldn’t be empty and now there are ZERO comments.  It’s as if I have the most hated blog on the planet.  Boo hoo.  First one to comment wins… uh… my heart

We all know that I’m challenged when it comes to things like choosing names, significant others, or things from the dollar menu.  So you can IMAGINE the heartache I suffered over the name of my new website.  Afterall, I’m pretty hard to please and I’d like to be happy with this for more than a year.  So I thought long and hard about the general nature of my blogs and conversations with friends.  And one thing kept coming to mind- I’m very direct.  And I like it that way.  And I like others to be that way with me.   So I present to you my new website, designed by yours truly:

blunt-delivery-2

***FAVOR:  All of you that have The Daily Elephant listed on your blog roll, could you pretty pretty please change that to bluntdelivery.com???  I will love you forever.

And just for that, I have some fabulous new blogs for you right at the top of the pile, including: 

A Post-it Would Have Been Better

Middle School Misfortune

Nitemare on Ex Street

I Dated A Slumdog Millionaire

Not to mention that there is now a picture up of Kenny and I from the actual night in question from my post The Kenny Chronicles: How We Met

BOO-YA!  Told you I’d have it up by today.  There’s all sorts of new things for you to feast your eyes on, so you’ll have to look through the categories.  I am also introducing THE SKINNY, which is where I’ll be telling you the deal about products, websites, and things that will either revolutionize or destroy your life.

See ya around kids.

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So, I took some time out of my busy day, actually took a shower, actually put on some real pants, and went to get a massage.   The entire time I was there, I was writing this blog in my head.  I’ll start from the beginning.

I’m standing there naked (but fully robed)  (although the robes are like paper thin)  (but at least it’s dimly lit)  OK.  I’m standing there and right off the bat the massage girl says:

girl:  So just go ahead and get in the bed, I’ll step out for a second. 

me:  Ok. sounds good.

girl:  Oh, so you’re a massage therapist then

me:  (a little bit freaked out that this complete stranger would ask me this)  Um, well… that’s a long story.  But not exactly.

girl:  Oh, well it says in your file that you were going to massage therapy school.

me:  (wondering why in the heck I have a “file” for getting spa services…  Also wondering what else this so-called “file” contains.  Also wondering if every conversation I have with my massage therapists are  recorded in said “file” because I’m pretty sure I remember talking about that last time I was here…)  Yea, well I was going, but I quit

girl:  Well I was just nervous that I had a trained professional on my hands and you were gonna be all judgey.

So I get into the bed.  She comes in.  No sooner than the blanket is off my back we are engrossed in a conversation about, what else?  …. relationships.

I said something about my bad experiences and  tendencies to date inappropriate (and sometimes International) men, and she responded with “stop stealing my life.”   It was in that very moment, when she cloned my favorite phrase, that the world stood still.  The clouds parted, and an epiphany shone down from the heavens…. Could it be?

Further conversation would prove that my hypothesis was indeed, correct:

seinfeld-george-costanza-getting-massageme:  so wait, let me get this straight.  You’ve been floundering around for several years, dating inappropriate men that you were convinced were perfect, avoiding marriage and illegitimate children, went to school for art yet  are now giving me a massage, you’re restless, confused, AND you say things like “stealing my life?”

girl:   Yes.  and I’ve dated inappropriate International men.

me:  (stop talking for a second to catch my breath)… who?  how?  …from where?

girl:  Well, first there was the German.  It was really fun travelling around with him.   Then there was the Costa Rican foreign exchange student.  But thennnnnnn there was the Ecuadorian.  He was trouble.  But we had a good time in Argentina.

me:  (this girl is me…should I be scared?…)  I know this sounds terrible, but have you found that many of your relationships have “overlapped”  because you have mentally moved on but can’t get the guts to break it off with the other person?

girl:  Oh yea… big time.

That sealed the deal.  I was in love.  We had more things in common that I could possibly write about and we ended up talking through the entire massage… but dont’ you worry I’m a master multi-tasker, thus I was able to simultaneously relax.  I gave her my card (because obviously I can’t let this one get away)  and immediately headed over to Panera where Kenny was chillin.   I storm in, sit down and say:

me:  OK.  You’re not going to BELIEVE this!?!#$%   After all these years, I have managed to find the female equivalent of myself!

kenny:  But…. you are female.

me:  I know that I’m female.  But you’re the male equivalent of me, right?  So she’s the female. 

kenny:  Oh.  Well good for you. 

this blog has officially moved to: www.bluntdelivery.com

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Ok, hop in your DeLorean. Anytime I’m writing at 3am you must expect some sort of introspecion.  A little glimpse into the past.  So strap in kids. 

delorean-back-to-the-future1

 

Waaaay back when I first started writing blogs on Myspace, (uuuggh, dad, do we have to bring that up?) I called myself:  “The Davey Crocket of Blogging –blazing trails of truth.”   For what reason, I have no clue.  Kind of like I have no clue why this is named The Daily Elephant.   

 

Back then, I was different.  You know all of  the crazy events that I casually mention on this blog from time to time?  The ones where you leave me comments and you’re all:  “what the crap.  that’s bs… that didn’t happen.”   And then I tell you, yes it did.  And then you still don’t believe me?  Well, the myspace days were when they happened.    And that is their official title in the rolodex of my life: the myspace days.  [Definition]  Myspace days = a period of 3-4 years where I lost my damned mind.

After I recovered from my trip to crazytown, I started this blog, to chronicle my extended stay there.  And can I just say, that if you are planning a trip to crazytown anytime soon – invest in some deep conditioner – cus something is up with their soft water

So here I am, back from crazytown and my blog still has no point.   It’s like the Seinfeld of blogging.   And again, I’m stuck with a retarded name that I’m not even sure how I came up with, yet I can’t even buy the domain for it cus some other idiot already did, who also has no idea what he’s gonna do with it.  I mean, if some portly guy in a ski mask held a gun to my head and asked me what my blog was about, WHAT THE HECK would I say?   I mean,  after spewing the obvious immediate response of-  “holy crap you need to get up off my grill cus I can’t concentrate like this…and seriously, I don’t know where that gun’s been.”   But after that, then what?

I got nothing.  But speaking of losing your mind… have you all see this clip of Joaquin Phoenix on Letterman because OH MY GAH is it nutty?!?   Apparently, he is giving up acting to pursue a career in Rap music.  I thought this was a publicity stunt at first, but then after closer analyzation it’s pretty clear that he’s just high.  It’s HILARIOUS!

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Now that you’ve had sufficient time to recover from your recent overdose of all things ridiculous and heart shaped… it’s time for you to pull up a seat, sharpen your pencil, steal a couple glue sticks, and grab a lunchable [or maybe some of those pre-sliced apples in the little pouches designed for the world’s laziest moms].  Please clear your mind of all recent uncomfortable encounters, romantic endeavors gone awry, and anything else that might prohibit you from fully absorbing the knowledge I’m about to impart upon you.   Open your eyes, your ears, and most importantly your hearts… because The Elephant’s School of Life is back in session.

It’s time for another installment of “What You Can Learn From My Inexcusable Mistakes”  [or]  “The Moral of The Elephant’s Story”  [or]  “Just Don’t Do This And You Should Be Ok”

1.  Don’t be scared of braces.  Because if your teeth are jacked up then you’re gonna have to deal with it at some point if you want to be socially acceptable.  Except by that time, you won’t be covered under your parent’s insurance anymore, so you’ll be out six grand and 22 with braces. 

The moral: Get over it metal face.  No one’s gonna even notice anything past the unsightly acne and oversized glasses on your face anyway.

glove-box-engagement-ring2.  Don’t start dating a psychopath, one so crazy, that you must runaway to Europe to hopefully be rid of him.  It won’t work.  He’ll come to visit you and wisk you off to Paris, where he’ll lose his wallet and force you both to wander around the red light district, all dressed up, without any money, or knowledge of the French language.   Then you’ll get all deathly ill and it will start to hail.  Unfortunately, he will still propose to you.  You’ll say no, but he’ll have you keep the ring anyway in a lame, yet crafty attempt to get you to reconsider.  But it won’t work cus you are smarter than that.  When you finally come home, you will put the ring in your glove box so that you can bring it back because you are not a gold digging whore.  However, in a random twist of fate, one of your “friends” will borrow your car and steal it before you have the chance. 

I guess there could be two  three morals here:  Don’t date a psychopath.  Or let anyone borrow your car.  Or have a glovebox.

3.  Don’t accidentally use a long distance # to connect your dad’s AOL dial-up so you can instant message your high school friends all night long.  Please understand that “FREE TRIAL” doesn’t also apply to the phone bill.  Oh sorry, that one was kind of outdated.  But I’m serious dad, I’ll cut you a check for that real soon!

4.  If you should still find yourself dating a psychopath, [even after my strong warning against doing so] don’t runaway to Europe to get rid of him.  Not only will that fail miserably, but you will end up meeting a new, even worse, British psychopath. 

The moral:  If you have the choice between foreign and domestic psychopaths, always stick with American made.  Keep American jobs here!

This blog has officially moved to: bluntdelivery.com

Who’s the Elephant?

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So if there’s one thing that might force me to relinquish all respect for my mother, it would be that she loves Neil Diamond.   And black licorice.   Both, unforgivable offences.  If you didn’t know, Neil made a guest appearance on tonight’s Grammies.  I wasn’t warned of this, obviously.   This  gave me no choice but to switch to Bravo, where they were playing The Real Housewives of Orange County rerun-marathon that I now have memorized, which gave me no choice but to mute it and write this blog.

he_s_just_not_that_into_you_movie_image_jennifer_connelly__jennifer_anistonI went and saw the movieHe’s Just Not That Into You on Friday.  I have been living in anxious anticipation of this movie since I first picked up the book – one of three that I’ve actually read in my life.  While I was watching it, I couldn’t help but reminisce on all of the unfortunate male mishaps I’ve had in my life, which there is not enough available space left on the internet to fully chronicle.    

Guys:  this post is for your benefit.  Just know if you do any of these things, no girl will ever be that into you.

1.  White-tiger-internet-guy.   Okay, so, remember when you were much younger and much stupider, and you and your friends put your profile on a dating site for the heck of it?  And then out of nowhere some guy actually contacted you and wanted to meet forreal?  And then you were super freaked out, but didn’t know how to turn him down?  Oh, just me.  Well, as the stars would have it, a charming young man would invite me to coffee.  In the course of casual emailing, I had mentioned that I always wanted a pet white tiger.  That may not be something that usually ever  comes up in your casual conversations, but it would if you were talking to me.  So I arrive, at a well-lit, public place (I was stupid, but cautious)  and waddya know the moment I sit down, he hands over a stuffed white tiger.  Okay.

dont. ever. do. that.

You better believe that one of my family members had a life-threatening emergency about 10 mins after he handed over the animal.

2. Underware-model-Wrigley-field-guy.  I’m sure there’s alot of people who may over look certain flaws or potential sources of conflict in a relationship if the person is strikingly gorgeous or from a famous family.  This would be underware model wrigley field guy.  Indeed, nice to look at.  Indeed, of noble blood.  But let’s just make something drastically clear: if you check your reflection in a car window or talk about water weight on a regular basis – we’re just not going to last.  An instant snapshot of our granola and jogging filled future popped into the forefront of my mind, and it was over.

3.   Italian-gold-chain-guy.   I love Italians.  But as soon as they leave Italy, something just goes haywire.  I myself, am Italian – but not that Italian.   Orazio was his name.  Orazio was one of the sweetest people on earth.  He had a good job, and was to inherit his dad’s uber successful business.  He opened doors, pulled out chairs, held the umbrella…all that good, but uneccessary stuff.  But this poor guy was just too Italian.  He wore a gold chain.  And as soon as my eyes caught the first gleam of that blinding light, it was the beginning of the end.

This is a pretty funny video entitled:  “10 chick flick cliches that aren’t in He’s Just Not That Into You”

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Okay, campers.  Rise and shine and don’t forget your booties cus it’s coooooooold out there.”

groundhog-day-movie-bill-murray

While watching one of my favorite movies of all time – Groundhog Day [starring my boyfriend Bill Murray], I felt a calling upon my life.  If you haven’t seen the movie, I suggest you do that and then come back here to read the piece of wisdom which I have extracted from it.

If anyone’s life is like groundhog day, it’s totally mine.  I do the same thing every day.  Every freakin day.  I roll out of bed and sit down at my computer, oftentimes,  without even getting so much as a sip of water or a box of ice cream.   Many times, I do not even have to get out of bed because  I simply grab my laptop off my nightstand and start my day.  

bill-murray-groundhog-dayMy blog is also in a rut.  A rut of awesomeness.   Just kidding.  My readership is actually growing at an increasingly fast rate, which excites me, yes.  Thank you to all you people who find comic relief at my expense.  I’ve noticed something though.  I have quite a few blog stalkers.  Yes, stalkers.  You people who lurke around but leave no trace of your presence. 

This brings me to my next point.  There are quite a few of you out there who have some good blogs and/or websites.  So good, in fact, that I would like to tell the world about them.   Alot of you have asked about advertising, but since I’m not going to do any advertising until I switch to a website, I am going to do one featured blog or website every FridayWhat does that mean for you?  More readers, more exposure, and the recommendation of a widely respected Elephant.  I have the uncanny ability to persuade people that said item [insert: blog, movie, dairy product] will change their life.

How do I qualify to be the featured blog?  

Well, I’m going to lay out the complete details in my next blog.  But basically, I’m not gonna make it hard on you.  If you want to be considered for featured blogger or website, you must leave a comment on each post that week.  I will randomnly choose one from all who qualify.   Obviously. I can only choose one per week, so keep trying and eventually you’ll get your turn.   Leaving comments is basically like entering the contest, but if you didn’t know, leaving comments actually boosts your search engine rankings.  Yes, it is true my children.  The more you leave links to your blog the more clout your blog gets in google’s eyes.   So be ye not lazy. [if you don’t have a webite, but have something else you would like me to promote then that is fine]

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[OR The Secret to Financial Freedom]

When all you do is write for a living, you become a hermit by default.  When I say hermit, I mean that I’m skeptical as to whether or not my car will even start due to how long it’s been sitting in my garage.   Between the endless writing and working on my new business [which I hope to launch in the Spring but will not announce because as soon as there is a deadline I will crack under the pressure that only I have imposed upon myself]  I have no choice but to sit in front of a computer all day, unshowered and in sweats. 

It’s really okay though, for I have found the secret to financial freedom is in not going anywhere.  It’s 99.2% affective that you will not spend money if you don’t leave your house.   I say 99.2% because there are those of you out there who will find ways to scam the system and buy things via the internet or Home Shopping Network.  In which case, you are a lost cause anyway because you are attracted to things like Snuggies  (or as the YouTube video below refers to them – the WTF blanket) and ShamWows.  There is no hope of you ever saving money when you buy crap like that.  Enjoy your lifetime of financial ruin.

 

Today, I reached the breaking point;  the point at which I had no choice but to leave the “den” as my friends lovingly refer to it.  And I say lovingly because they too LOVE the den.  There’s something magical about my room that forces people to be lazy, maybe it’s the fact that I allow nothing other than ambient lighting.  In fact, I don’t think any of my friends have sat on my couch.  As soon as they enter the door, they head straight for the bed, where they can be assured to view mindless daytime TV, feast on an assortment of leftover holiday chocolates conventiently located on the nightstand, and check this blog from my laptop to see how I embarrassed them recently.  When you enter my life as an acquaintance or luckier yet a friend, you run the risk of me publicizing your life in any way I see fit.  And usually, the way I see fit is to make a mockery out of it.   OK.  Will you stop distracting me?   Anyway, today I realized that I’d eaten everything in my fridge except a very questionable  rotten pomegranite and some Ferro Rocher’s in the shape of a Christmas Tree.   I had to leave.

So I went to the grocery store and just as I suspected, I spent money.  If I would have just stuck to my plan I’d still be on top of the game.   So now that I have offically conducted a double blind experiement of my hypothesis, I will be re-writing this cost saving plan into an e-book, which will be available for purchase on my website.

snuggy-blanket

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