13 year old dad

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HOLD. THE. PHONE. I usually don’t report news, but I have no choice but to interrupt your regularly scheduled programming to bring you quite possibly the most disturbing, yet hilarious news you’ve heard all year.  I’d like you to meet Alfie Patten, a strapping young 13 yr. old British lad and his new baby, Maisie.  Alfie stands 4 ft tall, and when asked how he and his girlfriend would afford the baby he told The Sun, “I thought it would be good to have a baby.  We didn’t really think about how we would afford it.  I don’t really get pocket money (allowance).  My dad sometimes gives me ten bucks.”

Alfie’s dad, who sold these pictures to The Sun, says that “Alfie could have shrugged his shoulders and sat at home on his Playstation, but he’s been at the hospital every day.”   Well, sounds like he’s shaping up to become dad of the year! The baby is living with Chantelle, Alfie’s 15 yr. old girlfriend (he’s quite the ladies man) and her family of six, currently being supported by the government.  BONUS:  Alfie is allowed to “stay the night.”

Check the full article for pictures of Alfie and his girlfriend, or if you don’t believe me.  Because I almost didn’t.

Photo courtesy of  thesun.co.uk

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Pomegranites are the new orange

Unfortunately, pomegranites are also the new disfunctional relationship.  We sense there’s something worthwhile deep down inside, but there’s just to much crap to go through in order to get to it.

But we’ll still try.  God knows, until we are old, grey, and in a mental institution…we will still try.

www.wordsbybrit.com

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Nostradamus 2009 predictions

Ladies and Gentlemen,

If I could please turn your attention toward the stage as we are joined by the specialest of special guests tonight: Nostradamus.  I am aware that many of you feel concerned about the future in these times of uncertainty, thus, I have invited him to come and ease your minds with his wealth of prophetic knowledge. 

Nostradamus predictions for 2009:

1. The US government will realize it was a ludacris assumption that they can save every species of obscure Arctic creature and drill for oil.  Consequently, they will relinquish their struggle with the middle east and throw themselves at their mercy once and for all.   Convinced that no amount of national security and financial independence is worth sacrificing  a clear conscience (or an animal), all government officials will sleep soundly.

2.  The Jonas Brothers, having finally lost their longstanding fight against puberty, will awake to find they no longer fit into their skinny jeans.   Feeling confused and displaced,  they will retreat and seek solice in Hanson, the brotherly singing trio who had so courageously gone before them.

3.  NASA will spend millions to develop groundbreaking technology, which will allow people to scam the welfare system in a more discrete and successful manner and quite possibly allow other countries to locate every secret weapon system that we have.

4.  People will come out in droves to celebrate the historical inauguation of Barack Obama.  Oprah will celebrate by sporting a new hair weave and kick- starting a brand new diet plan that incorporates breakfast smoothies and lard sandwiches.

5.  Miley Sirus will again be “accidentally revealing”  during a photo shoot, which will result in Disney finally giving her the axe.  Then she will ball her achy-breaky eyes out and start the inevitable downward spiral of her once promising childhood career.

6.  Nick Lachey will come up with yet another completely horrible way to cash in on any remaining fans that he might possibly be able to muster up.  An endeavor that will fail miserably.

7. GM and Ford will finally receive the bailout of their dreams.  After billions have been spent to keep everyone employed, the world will realize their cars still suck and they will go under anyway.  This will further push China into world domination.

 

 My dear friends, I hope these insights will bring you much peace of mind and happiness in the New Year.  For I would not have thought it so important to come back from the dead unless we were at this truly critical point in history.

Profetically Yours,

Nostradamus

www.wordsbybrit.com

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Cheers to ending your crappy relationship

So I was at Target yesterday, browsing through the dollar spot, when I picked up a snazzy ’09 desk calendar for myself.  It was right about then, that I realized the time is fastly approaching. ..

 A New Year.  A clean slate.  A fresh start.  Full of endless possibility and golden opportunity.  I don’t really believe in resolutions, but I do believe that you should take a moment to stop.  think.  and analyze your life over the past year.   And while you’re analyzing, you should also stop and realize that all that clean slate talk is nothing but a smelly pile of B.S.  I mean, that DUI is gonna ride your coattails right on into the New Year hunny. Sorry for the blunt delivery.

On a serious note, I think you should all take a moment to think about the relationship you are currently in.  I have compiled a list of common relationship classifications so that you can easily identify which one you have.  Then you can take appropriate action.

Relationships come in all shapes and sizes and the only thing that is consistent is the inconsistency [and the huge suitcase of issues that moves in with them and their inability to pick up their own socks.]  In my expert experience, these unions can be defined in a couple different ways:

1. The Rite of Passage Relationship: “You couldn’t be more wrong for me, but I’m still going to let you suck the life out of me until I have nothing left to give because I enjoy a challenging project.” (see footnote a)

2. The We’ve Been Together Waaay Too Long Relationship: “I’m pretty sure this has no potential of going anywhere meaningful, but we’re both too lazy and unconfrontational- so let’s just forget to break up and be eternally unsatisfied, sound good?”  (see footnote b)

3. The I Deserve Better, Yet I Don’t Relationship:  “You treat me like crap.  I like to complain about it to everyone, but for some reason I never leave you.  In fact, I’m so desperately and completely in unrequited love with you that I am satisfied with being the object of your un-affection until you ultimately dump me.  After that occurs, I will shed rivers of big, fat, elephant tears.  And eat myself ugly.”  (see footnote c)

4. The Biological Clock is Ticking/ If I Don’t Have Kids Soon My Mom Will Lose All Reason To Live Relationship:  “Alright.  This is as good as it’s gonna get.  courthouse or vegas?”  (see footnote d)

*footnote a).  this type of relationship is a rite of passage for every woman on earth.  some will learn.  others will continue to fall into this trap until they either despise men and resort to lesbianism, OR they snap one day and go on a shooting spree.

*footnote b). this is a common result of a long high school relationship, in which the person to whom you were originally attracted has now grown up into an entirely different person.  unfortunately, both parties will be too lazy and comfortable to end it, so they will go on to have a miserable existence.

*footnote c).  this person could very well be an attention -seeking, insecure individual with daddy issues.  OR it could be every girl i’ve ever known.

*footnote d).  hopefully, these two love eachother, but this is not a guarantee.  other possible factors leading to marriage could include but are not limited to – loneliness, peer pressure, a bad experience on Match.com, and the desperate need for a second income.

So unless you want to travel down the long, bleak road to a loveless future – by all means, end your crappy relationship!

www.wordsbybrit.com

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Black Friday, depression, and a Salvation Army chair

I woke up the day after Thanksgiving with a massive headache.  No, I wasn’t hungover.  No, I wasn’t getting sick.  It’s just the after effects of a very stressful week.  Friends visiting, friends having babies, grandpas in the hospital, the usual.  Of course, as you know, I witnessed my best friend give birth to a child, which was at the very least:  horrific.  But not as horrifying as it is two days later when the images keep popping into the forefront of your mind.  Then my Thanksgiving consisted of watching my grandma, who is a self-proclaimed Wii bowling champion at her assisted living home, battle it out with my uncle and dad.  Well, she currently has a bad hip and wears frog green polyester pants, and everytime she pulled her arm back to release the bowling ball, she let out a fart.   Pretty soon I had to move to the other side of the couch, where my mom and my aunt were having a huge fight about who was going to host Christmas.  

 [Let me preface the next section by saying that my 99 saturn with duck tape covering a hole in the hood, although esthetically phenomenal, is not an all-terrain vehicle.  More on that later. ]

So I had made my annual plan to go shopping on Black Friday.  But when the morning came I called my girlfriend, who was supposed to accompany me, but she actually was hungover.  And depressed.  So I called Kenny.  Kenny’s always up for shopping.  Well, Kenny was depressed too.  I guess depression rates really do rise around the Holidays.  So after five hours of trudging through crowds of unruly shoppers by myself, I had seven bags on my arm cutting off the circulation to my heart.  After narrowly escaping a heart attack, I went to pick up my yellow Salvation Army chair with Kenny.

So I accidentally wandered into the Salvation Army again last week, and took a liking to a yellow chair, which I asked if i could pick it up later that day.  Of course, five days had passed since that conversation took place.  So Kenny had no choice but to help me.  For over 30 minutes, we were shivering in the parking lot (with several onlookers) having the following conversation:

me:  its GOING to fit

kenny:  no.  no it’s NOT.  how in the world can you think this is going to fit?

me: cus it’s not that big!

kenny: thats what she said.  haha.  ok seriously, yes it IS THAT BIG, because we can’t get it in!

me: thats what she said.  haha. ok, seriously, if we could just take the legs off it would be fine.

kenny: yea, thats a really good idea.  except they are attached.

me: well, lets try it diagonal in the backdoor again.

random guy:  you know, I used to move furniture for a living.  .. do you guys need some help? 

Kenny and me:  NO, we’re fine.

random guy:  well, do you mind if i just stand here and watch?  cus this is pretty entertaining.

kenny:  we’re just gonna have to put it in the trunk.

me:  but i won’t be able to close it AT ALL.  isn’t that illegal?  isn’t that a hazard?

kenny:  we’re gonna have to come back then

me:  it’s already been sitting here 5 days, i have to take it.  but how will we tie it down?  I don’t have anything.  Go find some twine.

[kenny goes back inside, comes back after ten minutes, holding what appears to be rope]

me: you are AWESOME!  this is why i love you.   [ I grab the rope and start putting it around the chair]  wait, what is this?

kenny:  a telephone cord.

me: A TELEPHONE CORD?  what the?!  how am i supposed to tie anything with a telephone cord? 

kenny:  Don’t worry, i got two of them.  and a scarf.

me: SO?@$%

Check out more of the Kenny Chronicles:

How to talk yourself out of dating almost anyone

A Conversation at Starbucks

A Bad Gordita and Some Classy Water

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The Santa Cemetery

My living room finally makes sense again.  I woke up two days ago to find a crusty english muffin at my bedside and snow on the ground.  As soon as I discovered this, I lept to the window and spread my curtains wide open to let in all the winter wonderlandish-ness.   I was elated at this fact because not only am I in LOVE with snow, but I’ve also had my Christmas tree up since about this time last year.  It gets to the point where you’ve waited so long to take it down, that it would be more sense just to leave it up.  I find myself in that predicament about once a year.

Speaking of the holidays, wait, were we?  Either way, I’d like to speak of the holidays.  I am a bit of a holiday freak.  When I say “holidays”  I’m not so much referring to Thanksgiving or Halloween or Easter or Canadian boxing day, pretty much just Christmas.  In fact, the only thing that pisses me off about the “holidays” is that they end.  In a perfect world, we would all co-exist in a constant state of holiday amazingness. 

I have alot against Thanksgiving:  1. its pointless.  2. nobody thanks anyone for anything.  3.  turkeys are a hassle.  4.  it takes up an entire month of what could be Christmas decorations and fills them with ridiculous things like cornucopias and corn stalks.   That being said, I’d like to wish you all a Happy Thanksgiving. 

Let me tell you how I spent my Thanksgiving eve: watching my best friend give birth. … well, first let me tell you how paranoid I am of having children (I think its equal parts the committment issue and the pain issue).  Anyhow, any shred of hope I had about having a child has been effectually lost after what I witnessed yesterday.  I had a feeling this would happen, but she’s my best friend and wanted me in there for comic relief.  So I told her stories (threw in a few Kenny Chronicles) and had all the nurses cracking up.  This continued all day and into the night, until forming my new favorite phrase to live by: “adoption- the painfree option.”

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The Kenny Chronicles: A conversation at Starbucks

I shall now introduce to you the newest category here at The Daily Elephant:  The Kenny Chronicles.   What exactly are the Kenny Chronicles?  Well, due to overwhelming feedback on the blog I wrote last week referencing a dating conversation between my best friend “Kenny” and I, I will now be dispensing more blogs of this nature.  I’ve always got your best interest in mind.  If you didn’t get a chance to read the first one, please do so here because the second installment is comin at ya faster than an outta shape asthmatic kid chasing after an ice cream cart.

Kenny and I meet at a bookstore or Starbucks on a quasi-regular basis to discuss our issues.  I think we feel that the bookstore-ish surroundings make us more intellectual than we actually are, which in turn helps us more quickly penetrate to the heart of our problems.  Of course, this isn’t really successful because everyone (except us) acknowledges that merely sitting in a bookstore does not make you more intellectual.

I arrive to find Kenny sitting out on the patio, sipping on an overly-priced mountain of coffee flavored whipped cream and looking rather introspective.  As I park my car, I instantly notice a drastic change upon my friend’s all too familiar face.  I don’t like change.  Before I sit down, I go inside and purchase the ridiculously too-big cookie of the day, which is always some random shape that makes no sense.  That day it was a lemon wedge.   And the following conversation begins: 

me:  seriously?  you got your hair cut.

kenny:   i couldn’t stand it anymore.

me: but Richie’s wedding is next week.

kenny:  I know.  but it’s sooooo hot outside.

me:  sooo hot?  my hair is black and 3 feet long  and you don’t see me buzzing it off do you?

kenny:  relax.  IT’S HAIR.  it’ll grow back.

me:  not in ONE WEEK!   how many months have I been saying that we need to get some good pictures at this wedding?  and you keep it long this entire time and a week before the wedding you get too hot.

kenny:  i know we need some new pictures.  we’ll get some.

me:  no we won’t.  because we cannot possibly have cute pictures with your hair hacked off like that. 

kenny:  it doesn’t look that bad?

me:  well it doesn’t look that good.  you don’t even look like yourself. 

kenny:  Yes i do?  how can i not look like myself.

me:   you know I like your hair longer and spikey.  when was the last time we took a good picture?  like two years ago? 

kenny:  oh, get over it. 

me:   I can’t believe you did this to me.

After we got that out of the way, I brushed the cookie crumbs off my sweatshirt and referenced how I seriously need to start working out.    Kenny talked about another girl that he isn’t dating, but if he was dating anyone right now, it might be her.

Check out more of the Kenny Chronicles:

How to talk yourself out of dating almost anyone

Black Friday, depression, and a Salvation army chair

A Bad Gordita and Some Classy Water

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How to live the best fake life you can imagine

So the other day I wander into the Salvation Army.  Why?  Because it’s across the street from where I work.  And because I’m looking for some props for a photo shoot.  Ok.  And because I’m poor.  Why do our conversations always consist of you making me feel like crap? 

Anyway, WHY i went there isn’t what’s important Inspector Gadget.  As I’m strolling around and sifting through the ginormous pile of other people’s crap, I am taken aback by the smell of mildew and grandmas.  I find a couple of cool lamps, a chair, and some other random things that might be useful for my plans.    I started to walk over to the book section, just to see if i could find some good looking books, and what happened next was completely out of my control;  thus, I do not take responsibility whatsoever.  [much like with everything in my life] 

So I’m standing there staring at a huge wall of books and so I start doing what any person such as myself would do: peeling off all the sleeves to see if there are any books that match the colors in my living room and/or office area (they’re only a buck, and how can you ever have enough?).  In case I haven’t mentioned it, I collect books.  No, not antique ones, or special ones, or limited editions – just ones that match my color scheme.   I don’t actually read them, so much as I  admire them on my shelves and let them give the impression to all the world that I am mind-blowingly intelligent.  Because in all actuality, I hate to read.  And queue the following conversation between you and I:

you:  but, wait, weren’t you an English major?

me:  why, yes.  yes i was.

you: isn’t that kind of a weird choice of major for someone who doesn’t like to read?

me:  why yes.  yes it is.

you:  so how did you get through that if you hate to read?

me:  well, first I used cliffs notes and then i just quit.

you: oh.  so this all goes back to you being a loser then?

me:  wait, what?  how are you cutting me down again? this is a hypothetical conversation!

Alright, so to recap:  I like pretty books to put on my pretty shelves for my big, fat, fake life.  okay?  I can’t get enough.  So as I’m browsing the books, this man comes running down the ramp and says “wow, $0.10 a book today, can’t beat that huh?”  To which my response was “you’ve GOT to be kidding me!”  No.  folks, this was no joke.  Immediately, I started stockpiling them.   As I am racing to tear off every book sleeve possible before they closed, i am distracted by the following conversation between him and i:

book man:  find anything interesting?

me:  uh not really.  i mean, i really don’t care what they say.

book man:  (takes out a little gadget and scans a book)  well, i’m actually in the book business.  I sell used books.  This one is worth $94.00.  Anything I can help you find?

me:  well, i’m just looking for certain colors.  I only need them for my fake life.

book man:  (just laughing hysterically and sort of staring in awe) 

me:  ( after ten minutes of conversation and filling up TWO carts of books) ….well, I think this is all I can fit in my car, but i got some really good ones. 

book man:  Well good.  good for you.  it was nice meeting you.  you are a very unique and interesting woman. 

….And when i got home I sorted all 52 books into piles by color on my ottoman and sat down on my couch to stare at the victory I had just won.  As I was staring, I realized that now my own living room had acquired the smell of mildew and grandmas.  But it was worth it, all $5.41.

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The Science of Dating: Porn for Women?

Ladies, I feel that there is so much good material out there for the boys… we need a little something to look at once in a while, know what I mean?

See boys, women aren’t really that complicated. It’s the simple things that we desire in life… why is that so hard to understand?  Why, oh why do we always get pegged as mysterious, never satisfied, and impossible to please nags?  Watch and learn.

 

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A Bankers Life: Wake me up before you go-go.

Every morning, my alarm goes off at 6:30.  I know in the depths of my soul that I have no intention of actually getting up at this ungodly hour, but still it is set.  My actual intention is to press the snooze until 6:45, but I also fail at that because I do not want to be continually disturbed by the most annoying sound in the world.  So I rely on my internal alarm clock to wake me up at the correct hour.  Now, generally, this works. 

Unfortunately, as of late, my internal body alarm is set at 7:05.  When this alarm sounds, I roll over, grab my remote, and turn on the TV.  In my my mind, I am hoping that I will hear something so interesting that I will be forced to get up and check it out…but unfortunately, I am no longer startled by the fact that there is an election going on, nor the fact that Geraldo Rivera is in reporting live from the eye of a new hurricane every three days. This puts me in a bit of a precarious situation as I am left with approximately 40 minutes to take a shower, dry and straighten my very long hair (which could take an hour in itself), eat, make a lunch, get dressed, and leave my house by 7:45. This may seem an impossible feat, and you would be correct in assuming that is why it never gets done.

Needless to say, I usually end up rolling out of bed, rocking the pony tail, eating some Eggos, busting last night’s leftovers, and almost committing involuntary manslaughter on anyone who comes close to me on the road.

I must admit I had a bit of a chipper attitude as I rode the rickety elevator up to the fifth floor this morning, of course, the only reason being it’s friday.  However, as soon as I sat down to my computer and took my first call of the day, everything changed.  When I asked the first gentleman I spoke to today if he could identify his password, he replied, “Neil Diamond.”

Really?

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Words That Should Exist – don’t worry, they’re “certified organic”

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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