ATTENTION: If you want me to feature your blog Saturday, then this is your last chance to enter for this week. You must have left a comment on each of my posts since last friday (not including this one), which include:
The deadline is friday night 10:00 central time, cus that’s where I’m at baby. I will draw names from a hat (not Kenny’s hat) and then contact you sometime after that. And since you won’t believe me, I will even take pictures of myself drawing names and somehow turn it into a lame blog post. Man, I make things so easy for you. Plus I’m handing out reminders… what am I your mom? what am I an elementary school teacher?
What’s next, a glass of milk and a nilla wafer?
Did I even mention what’s at stake? You get to put this cool thing on your website if you want. $%^&@!
Guys, if you’ve ever been perplexed and confounded by the ways of women, I understand. I do. Although I might be one, I only understand our ways about 45% of the time. But within that 45% of understanding, I am going to try to share this secret knowledge with all of you poor, pathetic, and tortured souls out there. Of course, the degree at which you need to execute the following steps varies drastically from one woman to the next, so in that aspect you’re on your own.
1. We want you to be nice.But we don’t. If you’re too nice to us then we will slowly grow to hate you. And by hate, I mean lose all repect for and view you as a pushover who can only be considered a good friend.
2. We want you to pay attention to us. But not too much attention. This is a very important one because if you don’t give us attention when we need it [aka when other attractive girls are around or when we’re crying about something ridiculous] then it’s done. But if you get all clingy on a daily basis when we just want some FRIGGEN SPACE for the love of everything then it’s also over.
3. We want you to give us our way.But not all the time. See, if you don’t ever give us our way then you’re a cold-hearted, insensitive, selfish bastard. But if you give us our way all the time then you’re not enough of a man to be worthy of our respect. And most likely, you’d be an awful father who’d let the kids do whatever they want just because they make that pouty face.
Stay tuned for the second intallment of what women want. I’ll be bringing that to you as soon as I figure it out myself.
If you’ve read any of my previous posts regardingmy best friend Kenny, you’ll be not so surpised to hear that he is indeed a metrosexual. And when I say metrosexual, I mean he’s one manbag away from starring in an Off-Broadway musical and getting regular pedicures – except he likes the ladies. When I say metro, I mean that he doesn’t comprehend the words “just throw on some clothes and meet me at the bookstore.” This could be what I love most about him. He comes with all the glorious benefits of a girlfriend, but I don’t have to be tormented witless by the catty moodswinging madness. Drama, yes. He does have that. But at least not between us. Indirect drama I can handle.
So Kenny is one of these people who says he’ll meet you at noon, but by the time he gets done tweaking his hair, changing his outfit five times, and analyzing his level of winter “paleness” sufficiently – it’s over. The moment has passed and I’m in my PJ’s, watching reruns of Family Matters. Maybe it was the massive amount of whining I’ve done over the years, or maybe he just got sick of all the hassle -but Kenny decided he was going to become “I don’t care” casual. Of course, the effort involved in Kenny trying to look like he doesn’t care, takes an awful lot of caring.
[ Cut to conversation at my house]:
Kenny walks in…
me: what? why are you wearing a baseball cap?
kenny: It’s the new, casual- I -don’t-care Kenny. [points to hat]what do you think?
me: it looks weird.
kenny: like, weird different or weird ugly?
me: like, weird i’ve-never-seen-you-in-a-hat -ever-weird. and a baseball cap? I need to sit down.
kenny: I searched for weeks to find just the right one that would look good on my head.
me: the reason guys wear baseball caps is so they can disguise their unshowered hair. it’s not supposed to look perfect on your head. and it’s a Yankees hat. Do you even know who the Yankees are?
kenny: yea, they’re a baseball team.
me: You could have at least gotten a Cubs hat. That would have made more sense.
kenny: yea, but my other friend got the Cubs one, I can’t have the same one.
me: everyone has a Cubs hat – we live next to Chicago.
kenny: well I like this one, it looks good on me.
me: wait…. hold the phone. is that a SWEATSHIRT you’re wearing?
kenny: yea.
me: huh, i actually like it. looks good on you.
kenny: yea, it’s a fitted one. i got it at Abercrombie.
me: ok, you’re already caring too much about not caring. it’s not your thing.
[BTW this post is not included in the contest – you do not need to leave a comment to qualify]
Tonight on ABC’s The Bachelor, Jason Mesnick brings the ladies back to Seattle to show them his hometown. He’ll go on two one-on-one dates and one group date that gets a little uncomfortable when the ladies are drilled by some radio station hosts. Only one poor bachelorette won’t be introducing Jason to their family… find out who. Check out my recap tonight on Realitytvmag.com
Everyone’s favorite elephant is implementing a new service to her readers. Yes, you heard correctly, there’s no pumping gas here -this is a full service blog.
Because there are so many of you out there with painfully hip, wonderfully hilarious, and depressingly heartfelt blogs, I would like people to get to know you. Instead of me just choosing blogs that I like that featuring them (which would tend to be the same kind of blog over and over) I am opening it up to anyone who reads this blog.
What do you have to do? Dahling, all you have to do is leave a comment on each blog post the elephant writes for that week. You don’t have to leave one the same day that I make the post, just at some point within the week. Which, given the laziness levels around here, the posts most likely won’t be everyday. This is also something you should get in the habit of doing because anytime you leave a link to your site on another blog, you help your search engine ranking. The contest will run friday to friday. Then I will randomnly select a name from all of those who qualify. I will then contact you and let you know so you can give me links to posts you would like highlighted.
Then I will convince the world that you have the greatest blog known to man. Everyone will visit you and you will blow up like the next Oprah. Literally. No. That was mean.
“Okay, campers. Rise and shine and don’t forget your booties cus it’s coooooooold out there.”
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.
My 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 Friday. What 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]
The other day, when I was hard at work on the internet, I accidentally came across a salad recipe that commanded my undivided atttention. I know what you’re thinking, and no, I’m not one of those birds who eats salads and drinks skim milk. I had just polished off an entire box of Peppermint ice cream (cus you have to get enough while it’s still in season) when I came across the recipe. And it fit my criteria perfectly – it had linguini in it. Cus if I’m going to have salad, you better believe there’s gotta be some pasta in there somewhere.
Unfortunately, this salad is so unique and appealing that it contains not one solitary ingredient that I actually own. So I make the list of random ingredients that I’ll only use half of and then have to throw away because I don’t make anything else cool enough to warrant such ingredients as “nappa cabbage.” So I send the boyfriend to the store. He was going ANYWAY, chill out.
He comes back, and a shock of excitement runs through my veins as I think of the new creation I will be making. Oddly, he walked in with one bag. I was thinking, huh, that just doesn’t seem like it would have enough stuff in it for this salad. Then, I start to put the stuff away and this is the following conversation:
me: um, honey, why isn’t there any of the ingredients in here?
him: well, when i got there they were remodeling the store and they had everything moved around.
me: but there was still food there, right?
him: yea, but I couldn’t find anything.
me: so you couldn’t manage to find ONE ingredient on my list, yet you were able to navigate through the terrain and locate the frozen pizza and the Coke zero?
him: no. i got you cilantro.
me: oh, thats right. thank you. but WHAT THE HECK am I supposed to do with a gigantic bunch of cilantro?
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.
The bachelor gets to invade the General Hospital set tonight and act out love scenes with some of the bachelorettes. At the end of the night, Jason doesn’t give out the final rose, which leaves three girls really pissed off! Check out my recap on Reality Tv Magazine to find out all the details. Here’s a preview of tonight’s episode:
[This is a 100% true blog, that chronicles my outing yesterday with my best friend, who is a new mom. I did warn her that I was writing this blog and there was nothing she could really do to keep that from happening. don’t be scared by the length of this post, it is worth every moment]
There’s something magical that happens the very instant you become a mom. I’m not sure of the details because I have not yet crossed that ravine, but genereally speaking: you become the cheapest person alive.
I get in her car yesterday and immediately she throws the largest coupon organizer of ALL TIME onto my lap. The coupons were alphabetically organized. She says, “this is going to get us through the day.” She’s starving and so we roll up to McDonalds because she has a buy one extra value meal, get one free sandwich coupon. I thought, ok, thats fine, free sandwich. For the next 10 (and I am NOT exaggerating) mins, I was but an innocent bystander to the following drive thru conversation:
friend: Yes, can i get the grilled chicken value meal?
lady: sure. drink?
friend: I’d just like water and actually I dont want any fries with that cus I’m trying to lose weight. And then I’d like another grilled chicken sandwich, lettuce only.
lady: okaaaaay. $9.42.
friend: And no mayonnaise on both. (we pull ahead to the window and she hands over the coupon) Okay, I have a coupon, so I should get the second sandwich free.
lady: OKAY. SO your new total is $6.12
friend: UM. Now, shouldn’t the total be less than that? because the sandwich is free and i only ordered an extra value meal -but I didn’t even get fries and I only got water.
lady: Well, why don’t you just order two sandwiches then?
friend: Because the coupon says I have to order an extra value meal in order to get the other sandwich free.
lady: OKAY. SO you want the extra value meal, with just the sandwich and the water?
friend: yes.
lady: well, the bottled water is actually more expensive than the other drinks, so it’s still going to be that amt.
friend: ok, then no water.
lady: OKAY. SO you just want the extra value meal – with no fries and no drink?
friend: yes.
(at this point, the lady is rendered speechless and has to get the manager)
(this is also the point when i call my dad and have a five minute conversation, while trying not to leap out the car window and thrust myself into moving traffic.)
Finally, they tell her just to pay three dollars and they hand over the sandwiches. As we’re leaving, she tells me that later we’ll have to go back cus the Mochas are buy one get one free from 2:00-5. Then we go to Babys R Us. She rolls up to the checkout with a cart full of stuff and hands the elderly cashier AN ENTIRE STACK of coupons. Then, she says:
friend: but here’s the thing, they are all expired.
cashier: um, so you want to use a stack of expired coupons for your purchases?
friend: yes. George said it was okay because I live out of town and only come around once a week.
cashier: George doesn’t work here anymore. Let me get the manager. (at this point, I start to get uncomfortable)
friend: Oh, and I’m supposed to get a free box of diapers because I bought three Pamper products.
(Knowing what is about to come, I just walk away. I stand by the door for a good 15 mins before going to the car, where I waited for another 10 minutes.)
As soon as she gets in the car, I tell her that she took so long that we might miss the 2-5 timeframe in which to get the free mocha at McDonalds. I start driving, when I notice some rustling in the passenger seat. Before I know it, she has plugged in her breast pump and was holding two empty bottles. I just looked over and she says, “Don’t you worry, I got this under control.” We ended the day by going to JCPenny, where the clearance items were also buy one get one free. Then there was yet another confrontation with an elderly cashier when my friend asked if she could do two separate purchases in order to get more things free. The lady said that wasn’t really fair to JCPenny, to which my friend replied that she has to do what’s fair for her wallet.
BREAKING NEWS: 2009 Oscar Nominations have been released.
I was really, I mean REALLY shocked that Fool’s Gold didn’t get an Oscar nod (or at least a handshake) for best picture. The sheer realism alone of that movie was something to behold. The cinematography, the writing… just everything. And in a twist of romantic comedy fate, Kate Hudson and Matthew McConaughey were reunited in yet another seat-of-your-pants thriller that involves a divorced couple searching for hidden treasure.
And if you think you can guess the ending to this movie, you are sorely mistaken. This is no Vanilla Sky.
If you haven’t seen it yet, then I urge you to run – not walk – to your local movie rental store where it’s on clearance, loitering somewhere near the bottom shelf, next to the Milk Duds and ungoldly overpriced tubs of microwave popcorn.
Let me start by saying that I currently drive a plum-colored Saturn with duct tape on the hood. The reason for the duct tape is to cover an actual hole in my hood that was created by veering off the road and crashing into a road sign, which fell on my car and poked a hole straight through it.
So heed my advice at your own discretion.
So back to this whole matter of me being in a beauty pageant. Typing that very sentence makes my skin crawl, but you brought it up. Let me first say, that I hate pageants and all the creepy girls and moms associated with them. Okay.
Once upon a time, I was dating a charming young Italian gentleman, who I thought at the time was my long awaited knight in shining armor. Ok. Let’s start over. Once upon a time, before developing my completely pessimistic realistic views on the ways of the world and men, I happened to get the wool pulled over my eyes by an Italian nutjob in preppy clothing who sang in a band.
As most young women who pay their way through private college, I was broke beyond my wildest dreams. My brilliant nutjob was friends with the director of the local Miss America pageant sector, and they came to the ridiculous conclusion that I should be in a pageant. My immediate protest was stiffled by the mention of “but you can win alot of money.” I have a habit of doing things spur of the moment, without much thought or consideration to what said thing will entail, so after a couple weeks I said, “fine. what do I have to do?” Let me interrupt this story to comment on the time line for a moment. Pageant = August. When I was informed of said pageant = July.
After having said yes, but then realizing the pageant was one month away, I recanted my admission. Then I was further coerced by the boyfriend and director that it would be no big deal to prepare for. Lies so big even Satan was shocked. In one month I had to: find a pageant gown [um, haven’t seen any of those around town lately] and 4 inch clear heels [am I a stripper?], figure out a “talent” [I can’t sing, dance, or do anything requiring hand-eye coordination], get a professional picture for the program, learn how to walk in 4 inch clear heels [again. can’t do this], learn the group dance routine [there’s a what?], get a swimsuit that I’d be comfortable wearing in front of thousands of people, freak out, and actually stop eating enough food for a small lacrosse team so that I could not embarass myself while wearing the swimsuit.
My first problem is that I make impulsive decisions, my second problem is backing out of them. I can’t do it. So after one month of freaking out, chewing the Italian a new one, and eating nothing but apples – I competed in the pageant.
My talent? A comedic monologue about my teenage acne. Yes. And you are correct if you are thinking that you’ve never seen anyone do a comedic monologue at a pageant before. I don’t believe anyone ever has. Probably because they can sing and dance like all the other pageant freaks. Did they love it? Does Geraldo Rivera love his mustache?
Today, when they announced the President-elect, they opted out of saying his middle name. Instead they said Barack “H” Obama. Now, come on, what is so bad about Hussein? It’s not like it has a bad conotation.
Seriously though, on this very historical Presidential Inauguration, I want to say thank you President Bush, and I wish you all the best President Obama. Oh, and I’m especially siked today because my cell phone plan renews, and wow, I was getting close to going over.
[a telephone conversation between Kenny and I] Again, if you don’t know who Kenny is, please do some research, get your life together, and then return back to this post.
Me: [yawn….] so are we looking for paint colors for your room today or what?
Kenny: [several seconds, but what feels like hours of groaning, sighing, and cover rustling] well, I don’t feel so good. I have food poisoning. I’ve been up all night vomiting.
Me: Oh thank God, because I have waaay too much stuff to do today. food poisoning? what did you eat?
Kenny: some kind of Gordita-nacho-something or other at Taco Bell at 3 am.
Me: Well, did you ever think that wasn’t going to give you food poisoning? Oh, wait! I almost forgot to tell you the good news, World Market is going out of business. I’m going to go see if I can find some cheap stuff.
Kenny: When you’re there can you check and see if the Voss Water is on sale?
Me: Seriously? I really doubt that water will be on sale.
Kenny: Well, can you just check because I need some.
Me: You only like it because of the cool glass bottle.
Kenny: No I don’t. I like the taste of the water.
Me: It can NOT taste that much better than the other waters of the world that you can justify paying 3.49 a bottle.
Kenny: Yes it does.
Me: Ok. Well, I’ll going to level with you. I’m going to World Market today. While I’m there, I’m going to wander aimlessly and manhandle a a large amount of useless nic-nacs and large African vases that I have no intention of buying. But chances are, I probably won’t have time to check on the price of the water.
[ I have gotten alot of questions lately on whether my blogs are just stories, or if they are actually things that happened in my life. I understand why you may think that they are made up. I do. But unfortunately for me, they are not.]
So go grab anyflavor of Sun Chips (of course, you’ll be hard pressed to find ranch around here because that is some nasty crap), turn on some smooth jazz (I feel my blogs read best when set to this type of music), open your minds (and your hearts), and grab a seat in this virtual conference center because it’s time for a little Q&A with the Elephant.
Why do you call yourself the elephant?
Well, I came up with a ton of clever and amazingly witty blog names. Unfortunately, so did all of the other people who had already taken them. So then I just tried to think of something NO ONE would ever want or have. Well I did. But now, I don’t even want it because, seriously, what kind of a name is The Daily Elephant? Plus, I get bored easily. Which means, eventually, I will completely rename this when I convert to a real website.
When you were 18, did you really empty out your savings account and fly to Mexico with a girl that you knew for only 5 days?
The way you word that it makes me sound so irresponsible. And yes, I did. And we lived in a dorm in the mountains, (in Veracruz) where I accidentally used the water to brush my teeth and got amoebic dysentery. Thats what I get for heeding the advice of my dentist. I spent my days trying to teach the locals how to say Walmart (which was endlessly amusing and futile since they can’t pronounce the letter “W”), and having random people with Virgin Mary statues on their dashboards take us to see various pyramids and Mayan ruins. There was one picture in that entire dorm and it was of Charlie Chaplin.
Did you really drop out of college?did Bill Gates drop out of college?
And massage therapy school? does your mom make a mean casserole?
And every other program you’ve ever started?does the sight of Neil Diamond send shivers down my spine?
Kenny is the fake name for my best guy friend. He’s the marshmallow in my hot chocolate.
Did you really go to school in London and end up meeting a Britsh guy who moved to America for you and then turned out to be a multi-millionaire / heroin addict?
Seriously, what is this the Spanish Inquisition? I’m sorry, I don’t understand the question.
Did your “too-italian” ex-boyfriend really coerce you to enter a beauty pageant for scholarship money?
Wait, we haven’t talked about that yet.
But why would he do that when you can’t sing, dance, play an instrument, have no hand-eye coordination or experience, and hate beauty pageants?
That’s a good observation. And probably why I dumped him on top of the Eiffel Tower.
You seem to dump alot of guys. Do you just happen upon inappropriate men, or do you suffer from a fear of committment?
This is a bittersweet fact of my life, as now I have nothing to blame my issues on. My mom wasn’t a career obsessed, impossible to please crazypants, who tried to force me into childhood beauty pageants and acting classes so that she could live out her dreams. She was actually a stay at home mom, who had cookies and a plate of assorted cheeses waiting for me every day after school.
My dad wasn’t in the slammer after various robbery attempts, therefore prompting me to search for love in all the inappropriate places because I suffered from daddy abandonment issues. Instead, he sat through the intolerable rehashing of my entire school day each night after dinner, when I would give him a plethora of “homework assignments” to be handed in the next night.
But can I just say that it’s pretty sad when you can’t pass a spelling test given to you by your 7 year old daughter.
My brother, on the other hand, he was the thorn in my rose garden of a chidhood. He never once in all my living days: a) talked to me, or b) let me so much as walk in the same vicinity of his Nintendo. Although deeply scarring, I don’t feel that I can justify blaming all of my insanity upon him. Ugh.
I was just thinking about how I’m staring at this little piece of whatever and that I am connected to everyone in the world and IT BLEW MY MIND. And although I might not always ever want or care to know that you are currently “writing thank you notes” or “baking cookies with your sister-in-law” – it’s nice to know that I am able to access that kind of information if need be.
And all I have to say is, thank you, Al. Thank You.
The deadline is friday night 10:00 central time, cus that’s where I’m at baby. I will draw names from a hat (not Kenny’s hat) and then contact you sometime after that. And since you won’t believe me, I will even take pictures of myself drawing names and somehow turn it into a lame blog post. Man, I make things so easy for you. Plus I’m handing out reminders… what am I your mom? what am I an elementary school teacher? 
3. We want you to give us our way. But not all the time. See, if you don’t ever give us our way then you’re a cold-hearted, insensitive, selfish bastard. But if you give us our way all the time then you’re not enough of a man to be worthy of our respect. And most likely, you’d be an awful father who’d let the kids do whatever they want just because they make that pouty face.
If you’ve read any of my previous posts regarding
Finally, they tell her just to pay three dollars and they hand over the sandwiches. As we’re leaving, she tells me that later we’ll have to go back cus the Mochas are buy one get one free from 2:00-5. Then we go to Babys R Us. She rolls up to the checkout with a cart full of stuff and hands the elderly cashier AN ENTIRE STACK of coupons. Then, she says:
BREAKING NEWS: 2009 Oscar Nominations have been released. 
Today, when they announced the President-elect, they opted out of saying his middle name. Instead they said Barack “H” Obama. Now, come on, what is so bad about Hussein? It’s not like it has a bad conotation.
thedailyelephant.wordpress.com 