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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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chicken-soup-for-the-soul-campus-chroniclesAlas, the moment is almost upon us… 

How I’ve missed all of you in the past couple weeks.  I’m sure it was harder for you than it was for me, thus, I vow never to put you through such unspeakable anxiety like that again. 

I will be announcing my new website at the end of this week – either Thursday or Friday.   Um.  That is where you’re supposed to show me your excited face, and I’m not too impressed so far.  So check back as I will have many new and exiting things for you to explore.   Did I mention that every visitor gets a FREE SNUGGIE?!!!!! 

In other exciting news, I have another story being published in Chicken Soup for the Soul.  It is the “Campus Chronicles” edition coming out on April 7th.  Unlike my first one, which was a bit cheesy [ I mean, I’d never even read these books so I didn’t know what they wanted ] this is a seductive tale of forbidden college romance.  A true story, of course, of a guy who changed my life.

 

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

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One of my goals for 2009 was to “stop fabricating the truth”  so that means that what you are about to witness is actually forreal.

Again, I am sorry for the GIANT space between blogs here… all good things come to those who wait.  Or have money.  Whichever.  So, those of you who know my parents will understand that this blog is absolutely true.  Those of you who don’t know my parents, might now understand how I became the freak that I am today.   My family is hilarious.  We’re like the token Italian family they always showcase in movies, who talk over eachother and have 8 different conversations happening at once.  Except, my mom isn’t even Italian.  And I don’t have 7 siblings named after famous Italian statues.

parentsFirst, there’s a couple of things you must know about my parents to fully appreciate this story.  My dad is quite possibly the funniest person alive – to everyone except my mother, who never gets any of his jokes.   On the other hand, no one on earth ever laughs at my mother’s jokes, except my mother, because they are just horrendous.   My dad and I often challenge each other to see who can ignore her jokes the best, because if we give her even the slightest bit of encouragement she will keep repeating them. over. and. over.   In a nutshell, they are on completely different wavelengths.  In fact, the only thing they might have in common is their confusion over anything related to pop culture.

We’re watching American Idol, some nerdy kid sings, and my mom loves it.

mom: you know who he reminds me of?  that kid on King of the Lords.

me:  what?

dad:  King of the Lords?!?  you mean, Ring of the Lords?

mom:  oh, IM SORRY.  that’s right, I meant Ring of the Lords.

me:  no. no.  it’s Lord of the Rings.

clay-aiken-people-covermom:  well, I like him.  he reminded me of Clay Aiken.

me:  I guess.  I like Clay Aiken.  Can’t believe he had a kid.

mom:  a kid????   he got married?

me: not exactly.  he artifically inseminated his 40 yr old roommate and then he came out of the closet.

mom:  WHAT?!?!  since when?

me:  like, a year ago?

dad:  [randomnly changing the subject]  you know, if you need get those pictures off my camera I’ve got a SUB cord and you can hook it up.

me:  SUB?  what?  It’s not a car we’re talking about here.  you mean a USB cord?

dad:  Oh gosh, I’m sorry.  I  don’t know what’s wrong with me tonight.  Sometimes I transpose my numbers.

me: …… sigh… you mean letters?   [going to grab some paper so I can write all of this down]

nathaniel-marshall-american-idol[Nathaniel, the annoying emo kid sings…]

mom:  he looks like he has a booger in his nose.

me:  it’s a nose ring.

mom:  so tell me more about this Clay Adkins?

me:  it’s AIKEN. 

mom:  so does he have a boyfriend then?

dad:  well that’s usually how it goes.

[then Jose, the Puerto Rican sings his song and gets emotional afterwards]

dad:  [all annoyed]  well you know he’ll make it now

me:  cus he cried?

American Idoldad:  of course.  but you know who I liked was that little brunette.  She was the best one with the best voice that messed up the worst.

[meanwhile, “‘Lil Rounds” (which is where I got my inspiration for ‘Lil Phant)  sings her R&B song….]

mom:  well that was just terrible.  She’d of been better off singing Mary Had A Little Lamb than that crap.  it was like black on a chalkboard.

dad:  well that’s cus you just don’t get it.  That girl’s gotta lot of class.

me:  you said black on a chalkboard.

 

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

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ghosttown

I understand it’s been a bit of a ghost town around here. My only question is, why are you wearing chaps?   Really, it’s not necessary.

Anyway, I’m really working hard on this new website… and I’m pretty sure it’ll be worth it.  You’re going to luuuurve it darlings.  So, we are making sacrifices for the better good.  Wait,  I didn’t know this blog was a socialist.   But listen, exciting things you have to look forward to on the new website:  Kenny will be revealed, the elephant will come out of the closet, new blogs, snazzy new layout, and of course, absolute hilariousness.   So can you hold tight just a little bit longer or what??????

Me:  [picking up my phone]   Yup.

Kenny:  Okay.  Before I say this, you can’t turn this into a blog.

Me:  What?  Are you forreal?

Kenny:  Yes, I’m very real.  you can’t write about what I’m telling you.

Me:  I really don’t think it’s necessary for you to say that.

Kenny:  I’m just saying… don’t.

Me: I think I can tell the difference between something that I should and shouldn’t write a blog about.

Kenny:  Well it doesn’t hurt to give the disclaimer.

Me:  I’m offended.

Kenny:  No you’re not.

Me:  No I’m not.  It probably is better that you use the disclaimer.   I am actually a pretty poor judge of what I should write about.  So this must be about a girl.

Kenny:  Ok… so the other night….

Me:  [interrupting]  Ok, but can I write about this?

Kenny:  What do you mean, I just told you that you couldn’t.

Me: No, I mean the fact that you told me I couldn’t write the blog.  Can I write a blog about that?

Kenny:  NO.  Just leave it alone.

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

 

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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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annoyedI have an announcement to make:  you are all really starting to annoy me.  A hefty amount of you would have qualified to be the featured blogger, but you failed miserably to comment on all four posts.  Three, yes.  Three you could do, but four?  That’s where you lost your mind.  I only show you tough love, because I care, and I want to feature your blog.  But if you don’t want me to feature you, then whatever, I never liked you or your stupid blog anyway. 

Well, I’m happy to announce there is one strapping young lad that managed to comment properly on all blogs written this week and for that matter, every previous week since the beginning of my blogging career.  And that lad’s name is Whitty Diatribes.    Think of him as the male version of me, except a bit more brutal.  He recently gave up his lifelong struggle against starting a blog, and now has his very own, shiny new blog.

Some posts to check out:

Men Aren’t The Only Ones Who Need Advice

Public Service Announcement: You’re a Tool

Don’t make me come to your house, hose you down with cold water, and force you to watch Crossroads over and over again.  Pay your blogging friend a visit.

IMPORTANT BLOG NEWS:  I am hoping that I will have my spankin new website up by the end of this week.  WARNING:  I will no longer be the daily elephant, as previously mentioned, I cannot get the dot com.  I am almost positive that when it switches over, this blog will automatically be redirected to my new URL, but if not you know I’ll keep ya posted.  It is a PAIN starting over, but it has to be done.  I’m copying some of my favorite posts to the new site, so it won’t be naked. 

 You’re not going to abandon me because of this, are you?

Want more blog traffic?  Let me feature you

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I suppose if I were conventional, I would have started the Kenny Chronicles with this post, but no such luck.  It was a cold and rainy night several years ago.  Well, I don’t know about all that, but it was night, for sure.   I went to a music festival that we have in my hometown every labor day.  It’s an event that you have no desire to attend after the age of 17, but somehow you end up going every year because someone’s dad got free tickets from their work [ or ] you’re bored out of your mind.

garbage-truckI went with my psycho British boyfriend and a guy that pretty much every person in my town either knows or “has heard of” because he’s just that absurd.  We’ll call him Joe.  Oh wait, that’s his actual name.  Oh well.  As we’re walking back to our car, this guy walks up to us, Joe turns to me and says, this is my best friend Kenny.  Shortly after that Joe started chasing one of the cleaning trucks, hopped on the back of it, and rode off into the sunset.  At that very moment, Kenny and I looked at eachother, shook our heads, and said, “Yea.  That’s about right.”  

[Skip ahead a couple of weeks]  We’re at birthday party downtown Chicago.  We ended up sleeping on the floor of one of Kenny’s friend’s apartments.  I’m not going to make any apologies for what I’m about to say: this place was a skeezy trash hole.  There was like 8 people living there and I felt like I was getting a disease just by looking at the toilet seat. 

In the morning, I rustled a little, tried to go back to sleep but I couldn’t.  I looked over at Kenny and he just had a confused look on his face.  We glanced up at the tv, and what do we see?  Gay porn.  YUP.  Apparently, one of the tenants was gay.   He wasn’t seriously watching it, he was making fun of it, but either way – Kenny and I looked at eachother and immediately said “let’s go get the car.”

I put my heels back on, which fit nicely over the massive blisters I acquired the night before and we stepped outside.  I have mascara smeared all over my face, it’s blazing hot outside, and I’m still wearing my black “going out clothes.”  It’s 10:00 am Sunday morning and we look ridiculous.  After we had walked around the city for about 20 mins, I say:

me:  wait, I think we already went passed that building.

kenny:  naw, I don’t think so.  the car is parked on the street over there.

me:  but that’s the White Hen Pantry that we saw 5 mins ago.

homeless-guy-funny-signkenny:  no, no it’s not.  they’re like on every corner here.

me:  but… WAIT! that’s the same homeless guy.  we just went in a giant circle!

kenny:  homeless guys wander around. 

me:  NO.  they stay in one spot.  wait, you don’t have any idea where the car is do you?

kenny:  well, I don’t know if you could say I have no idea, but I’m not exactly sure either.

me:  WHAT?  Well then why are we wandering aimlessly in the blazing sun when i’m tired, dehydrated, and blistery?  and i look ridiculous?   Why don’t you know where it is?  you’re the man, you’re supposed to know.

kenny:   Everything looks the same here.

 

For more chapters in the Kenny Chronicles, please check out:   How to talk yourself out of dating almost anyone,   A conversation at Starbucks,   Black Friday, depression, and a Salvation Army chair,   A bad gordita and some classy water,  and   A metrosexual in a Yankees hat

Want more blog traffic?  To qualify for this week’s contest, you must leave a comment on the following posts:  Seinfeld of Blogging,   13 yr. old dad,   The school of life: Don’t do this,   and The Kenny Chronicles: The Begininning.  Winner will be chosen Friday night.

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