Posts Tagged ‘marriage’

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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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?


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scenario:  man has date.  man decides to bring date to a movie in hopes of getting some make-out action.  man calls to check movie times…


man: (dials 1-800-FANDANGO)


automated FANDANGO lady: Thank you for calling 1-800-FANDANGO, now powered by Lifesearch.  (beep, beep, beep) i’m sorry, i didn’t get that.  if you’re calling from the Netherlands, please press 1, for a different location, press 2.

man: ? but wait, i didn’t even say anything yet.   (presses 2)

lady:  i’m sorry.  i still didn’t hear you.  please breathe if you are calling from the Netherlands.

man: wait, what?

lady:   thank you.  do you have a theater express code?

man:  NO.

lady:  ok.  please say the movie you are looking for in the Netherlands

man:  Spiderman.  but i’m in Orlando.

lady:  (making what sounds to be a chuckle) i’m sorry.  that movie doesn’t exist.  please say your movie again.



man:  SPI-DER-MAN!        

lady:  did you say, Knocked Up?

man:  no. no i didn’t, you stupid wench.     

lady:  ok, i got that.  to hear show times for The English Patient, please press 1.  for another movie, press 2.

man: (presses 2)

lady:  please raise your voice if you want to hear the show times for all foreign films in Seattle.

man: (interrupts) NO, WAIT! GO BACK. IT’S ORLANDO.

lady: (chuckle) i’m sorry, i didn’t get that.

man: Orlando, you crack whore.

lady:  please select an option from the menu.

man: how bout you just give me the movie times you ignorant slut.

lady:  ok, i got that.  (beep, beep)  say YES for directions to the nearest IHOP

man:  listen, you worthless ho. you may think you’re just an anonymous voice on the other end of the phone, but i will hurt you and won’t even bat an eyelash. do you understand what i’m saying?

lady:  (chuckle) i’m sorry, keresotes stopped showing silent films in 1921.

man:  alright. i’m short on time, and i’m willing to make a deal.  you give me the show times; and i in return, won’t rob you of all your joy and happiness. how bout it bastard?

lady: it is currently 14 degrees with a windchill of -2. thank you for calling FANDANGO.

man:  wait!!! don’t hang up! ok, i take back what i said. you’re not a ho. or a crack whore. or an ignorant slut.  only a worthless wench. i beg of you, please!   PLEASE!   i just need to know when Spiderman is playing.  i’ll do anything!  anythiiiiiiiiiiiiing!!!!

 lady:  enjoy the hockey game. goodbye!

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disclaimer:  dialogues featured on this blog may or may not be influenced by occurrences in my daily life, and they may or may not be exaggerated.

Her:   (reaching into the fridge to grab a carton of OJ….noticing that it feels rather light)   
Why do you drink the juice when I said it was for me?

Him:   It’s just juice.  It’s for drinking.

Her:   But the point is, I said it was for me.

Him:  This is the fourth time we’ve argued about this…  what is your deal with the juice?

Her:   Well, my DEAL is that when we’re at the store, you specifically say you don’t want any juice.  I said I needed it because it has Calcium and I hate milk – that’s why I bought it.  Then you end up drinking it all and I don’t get any, when I’m the one who wanted it.  Thats my deal.

Him:  It’s been in there for a week.

Her:  Maybe I didn’t want any yet.  But now I do and you’ve almost drank it all.

Him:  Is it all gone?

Her:  It’s almost gone.

Him:  But is there some left?              

Her:  Yes.

Him:  Well have some then. 

Her: That’s not the point, the point is that why can’t you get your own juice when we’re at the store?

Him:  Honey. You’re being ridiculous.  What are you going to do when we have kids and little Jimmy drinks up all the juice?

Her:  obviously, that’s DIFFERENT.

Him:  How is that different?  So Jimmy can drink the juice and I can’t?

Her:  Well you should know better… besides, maybe Jimmy can have his own juice too.

Him: It’s so obvious you were an only child.  And the kids will not have their own juice. If Jimmy wants some juice, I’ll pour him a tall glass, and then one for myself.

Her:  We’re late for church.



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