Dear Leonardo DiCaprio,

 

After all these years. 

After all the pain we’ve been through. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After waiting in obscene lines with hundreds of other equally pathetic women only to watch Titanic for the tenth time, thinking that somehow this time Rose might not be such a stingy lovestruck maiden and would let you hop on that raft for a just couple seconds to escape a watery death.

 

 

 

 

 

After all the times I’ve turned a blind eye as you’ve blatently cheated on me with many an anorexic  model from various continents.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After all of this, I want you to know that I don’t just love you for the fact that you are trying to single-handedly save the planet one recyclable grocery bag at a time.

 

I love you in spite of that.

Environmentally unconsciously yours,

the elephant

 

 

p.s  Is it bad if  I leave all the lights on in my house while I drive around in my Suburban and chuck plastic water bottles out the window for fun?

By the way, Who’s the Elephant?

 www.wordsbybrit.com

 

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Back when I was a gang member

Imagine if you will,  a young lady full of promise, who always got A’s on her report card.   The very thought of seeing disappointment on her parent’s faces prompted her to never disobey their rules.  She played quietly, said “thank you,” and helped her mother, (who had her dishwasher ripped out of the kitchen in order to create more cupboard space) every night with the dishes.   She attended a ridiculously strict Baptist school for fifteen years, where she was forced to wear culottes and brainwashed to believe that pants were evil. 

<————- (if you can’t pronounce culottes [koo-lots], I don’t blame you, considering most of the world has no reason to ever say that word) 

Now I’d like you to imagine that you are that girl. One morning, you walk into the same Baptist school, which required you to be clad in a turtleneck and an ankle-length-non-denim skirt, carrying your Lisa Frank trapper keeper, only to be told that you were on the verge of expulsion for “being in a gang.”

That’s right.  A gang.  You know, like those scary groups of people who loiter around the bad areas of town and shoot people for no good reason, cover themselves in piercings and tatoos, and often participate in the distribution and usage of illegal substances.  Yea, those people.

That was me, Gangy McShoot’em up.  Of course, after making it through gang initiation, you’d of thought I would have gotten over my fear of getting my ears pierced.  But no, that had to wait til well after high school. 

I can’t even bother to get into all of the details as to how on God’s green earth this school came to the insane conclusion that I was in a gang.  But, given my background, wouldn’t you think they could have given me the tiniest benefit of a doubt before telling me I was expelled?  Or i don’t know, maybe asked me about it?

They called my mom, to bear the bad news.  Her response, between the bouts of hysterical laughter, was:  “We live in the middle of nowhere and my daughter doesn’t even own a car.  She collects stickers and whines about her acne.  I think I might know if she was in a gang.”

www.wordsbybrit.com

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Why my shrink sucked

I remember the first time I went to a shrink.  My boyfriend at the time insisted I go since I was making him go.  The difference between him and I was that he was a bipolar crazypants and I was an innocent bystander to his madness.  But being the five-star girlfriend I was,  I went anyway.  As long as he was paying for it. [because are you kidding me? I don’t just have piles of gold bricks at my disposal to pay for pity counselling to oblige my soon to be ex-boyfriend] 

[And I say soon-to-be because what am I?  A saint?]

After the first five minutes, the counselor [she was a female, so…counselorette?]  basically reiterated everything I had been stressing my parents out about for years.  She told me I was a perfectionist and people pleaser.  And then she asked me why I was like that. 

And then I told her that’s what I was supposedly paying her for.  my boyfriend was supposedly paying her for.

And then I left her.

And then my boyfriend suggested couples counselling.

And then I left him.

www.wordsbybrit.com

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I was told there’d be cake

Today, I conquered the world.   Or so it seemed.  Granted, my own imaginary world, where only I exist, but it was still something to behold.  It started with me actually prying myself from the computer which I have been diligently placed in front of for the better half of a month.  First, I returned the dvd’s which had been patiently awaiting next to my door since New Year’s Eve.

  Then, I mailed three books that I sold on Amazon two weeks ago, but agreed to ship within 2 business days.  After this, followed a triumphant moment in which I deposited my check from Chicken Soup for the Soul.  Triumphant only to me, I realize.  Then, as I was driving home, I attempted to read the book that was glaring up at me from my passenger seat. 

<—–not me, but a good likeness on any given day.

I think I’ve made it clear before that I don’t read books.  And that still holds true, except in the event I find a book that offers me some sort of meaningless and hilarious commentary.  Books which have fit into this category include: 

Couplehood by Paul Riser,  Sein Language by Jerry Seinfeld, and He’s Just Not That Into You by [whatever guy helped write Sex and the City].  That’s about it.  Of all the stacks of amazing books that I own, these are the only ones I have actually cracked open.  Add to that list: I Was Told There’d Be Cake by Sloane Crosley.   With a title like that, you can imagine why I was willing to risk my life  [and the lives of several others] today in order to read the first paragraph.

Exciting things happening in the Elephant’s life these days.  New clients, a new business on the rise, and most excitingly I’m starting to take this whole book writing thing more seriously.  The problem is with creative people is that we have TOO many ideas.  Know what I mean?  The thought of choosing one, just one measley little topic to write a book on is the most daunting challenge I can imagine.  Which is exactly why I’m not doing it.  I’ve come to the conclusion that my book will be:  a) non-fiction of course;  b) non-serious of course;  c) either short stories or essays compiled with some cohesive theme.   Choosing that theme will probably take another couple years… yea. 

 

Okay, so I really didn’t get anywhere today.

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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A New Year A New You

Much in the same way a late night infomercial can mesmerize even the most disenchanted observer, I am about to mesmerize you with my savvy knowledge of life and relationships. 

Only one more day until you are free from your past.  It’s time to grab hold of your future and ride it into the sunset.  What a better opportunity than now to encourage you all to go out and spend grandiose amounts of newly-attained Christmas cash on some fashionable work out gear.  Then, along with all the other dillusionally optimistic fake-dieters, you can show up once or twice to dust off your gym membership that will inevitabley grow extinct again come February.  Hurry up and do it before Richard’s shorts get tighter!

Along with working out and reflecting up on your current relationship the Elephant also suggests that you clean out your underware drawer.  I mean, would it kill you to weed some of those out?  I’m sure you can find some good deals a fresh pair of undies right about now…. just food for thought.

www.wordsbybrit.com

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Chicken Noodle Soup for the Soul: My Resolution

For those of you who asked, if you want to check out my story in Chicken Soup for the Soul: My Resolution you can buy it at Amazon, rent it at your local bookstore, or steal it from your local Walmart.  It is available and in stores as of TODAY!

Also, I have finally got my professional website wordsbybrit.com up and running.   Although it’s a bit ghetto, at this point it’s only so that I have a place to direct people when I apply for freelance jobs. 

If you haven’t noticed, it’s a blizzard outside so I suggest that you stay in and check out the rest of my Christmasy posts, which you will need in order to brave the holidays:

Black Friday, Depression, and a Salvation Army Chair

8 Days of Christmas Singlehood

5 Reasons Why You Shouldn’t Date an Only Child [or] Christmas is Cancelled

Festivus for the Rest of Us

An Office holiday party and after Christmas sales

…..I’ve done alot of shopping this year, but as it turns out I’m the easiest person to buy for.  Crap.

www.wordsbybrit.com

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A Banker’s Life: a christmas party and cleaning your desk

All of this talk about recession and depression has put a toll on people this holiday season.  I’ve heard alot of people saying they aren’t even going to exchange gifts…  well that is just too bad because after all that is what Christmas is truly about.  One of my friends’ families waits til Dec 27th to give presents, so they can buy everything cheaper at the after christmas sales.  What a deliciously easy way to scam the system, why haven’t we all thought of that by now?  Don’t feel bad, they are a family of rocket scientists.

Usually, we have a work Christmas party Holiday party.  We go out to dinner somewhere and half the department doesn’t show up, and the half who does show up is only there for the free food and opportunity to see our boss get drunk.   This year, of course, there will be no parties company-wide.  There will be a gathering at my bosses house, but I won’t be attending.  Mainly, because I don’t work there anymore.  Oh wait, did I forget to mention that?  Yea, no longer a banker.

Speaking of that, when you part ways with a job, there is one thing that really occurs to you the next morning when you wake up,  And that is:   how much crap you had at your desk.    After I emptied the box onto my counter, I was awestruck at just how much crap I had.  However, my crap was anything but useless- and if anything you should take notes on some of the extraordinarily useful and essential items I had there.

1.  A “He’s Just Not That Into You” daily calendar, still set at January 3rd ’08.  Not only was this book revolutionary and needs to be read by all women, but lets face it, it’s attractive as well.  And now for a close up:

2.  Aloe vera.   You never know when the fluorescent lights are going to get ya.  It’s best to be prepared.

3.   A Metallic, pre-lit mini Christmas tree.  I’m not going to lie to you.  I considered it, but then I thought – no, it’s Christmas.  This tree had been on my desk since October of 07.   I just didn’t light it all the time.

4.  A dollar store christmas candle from my secret santa last year.  Oops.  I either forgot to take it home, or I was scared it would blow up my house.  Who’s to know.

5.  The salt from the breakroom.  I mean, I use it so much it might as well just be at my desk.

Then, in a random twist of fate, there were things I’d forgotten.  So I went to go pick up another box from HR….. and what do I find?

Um, it’s nice that they returned my PLASTIC silverware, but they really didn’t need to leave the crusty generic peanut butter still on it.  Seriously?

You know what else pops into your head the day after you part ways?  The fact that you don’t have a job.

www.wordsbybrit.com

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Festivus for the rest of us

Back in high school, seven of us started a tradition.  Every Dec. 23, regardless of whatever family emergencies or weather advisories might be in place, we celebrated Festivus, the fake Seinfeld holiday.  This consisted of all of us squeezing in one of our barely working cars, driving to the train station, and spending the day walking around Chicago, shopping, dethawing in Borders, and taking pictures with giant indian sculptures.   No matter how warm you dressed in preparation for this day, sorry, you were still going to freeze your ass off.   I don’t know how many of you have been to the Midwest – but don’t plan on having an ass by the time you leave, cus you won’t.

As usual, it was me and the guys.  That has kind of been the story of my life.   They’re so much less bitchy and jealous.   Every year, as we got off the train and the blustery snow started whipping across my face, I said, ” this is the last time I’m fricken doing this.”   But it never was.  And of course, we always had to take the latest available train home which was around midnight.  Always.   On the 5 year anniversary, we all sprayed our hair silver and carried around an aluminum pole.   This went on for several years until parts of the crew started getting married or having illegitimate children – both of which resulted in them dropping off the face of the earth.

 

But ah, good memories.

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5 reasons why you shouldn’t date an only child

Christmas is cancelled. 

So my mom called me the other night and told me that my brother is calling a family meeting.  Immediately, I knew what it would be about.  He was trying to cancel Christmas again.   He does this every year when he realizes that he bought so many speed boats and BMW’s and 300 gallon aquariums, that he can’t possibly afford to buy six family members (which is the total number of people in our extended family) a $20 gift.  Then my mom gets all depressed because she never had Christmas as a child (due to her crazy-strict- skroogey dad) and now her and my aunt are trying to make up for their lost childhoods by re-creating Santa’s Village every year for us all.  But my brother is trying to steal their joy and in the meantime forcing me to overcompensate for the excitement that he isn’t showing.  YAY!

Sorry for the personal sidenote.  What I’m really here to talk about is dating a middle child.  I’m not one, but I’m here to tell you that if you are it’s okay.  A middle child is not the one you need to worry about… it’s the only child thats the problem.  For the love of everything peaceful, do not date an only child. 

Take it from me,  a quasi-only child.  Considering that I’m not even a full only child, I’m messed up.   If you’re wondering how it came to be that I’m not a whole only child, well that is too bad because I’m not getting into that tonight kids.  So here are the 5 reasons why you shouldn’t date someone like me:

1.  We all want ginormous families.  You try spending countless summers selling lemonade by yourself and playing house with only a mommy or daddy and see how you feel.  Plus, all the stress of grandkids rides soley on our shoulders.

2. We don’t like to share things.  It’s not so much that we don’t want to share, but we just like the things that are ours, to stay ours.

3.  We are either obsessed with pets or can’t stand them.  There’s no happy medium for an only child.  Growing up, we either learned to console our lonliness by surrounding ourselves with fuzzy woodland creatures, or we were so self-absorbed with ourselves that the thought of taking care of a pet was entirely overwhelming. 

4.  We have a tendency to be control freaks.  Most only children are the center of their parents’ universe, thus are the product of an overprotective and overbearing upbringing.   Which means when we grow up, we freak out and have to be in control of everything.  Everything.

5.  We have ridiculous, impossible to meet expectations.  And unfortunately, we don’t just put these expectations on ourselves, but everyone we meet.  This is because all the focus was on us and we have an inner need to over achieve.   So good luck with that.

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The 8 Days of Christmas Singlehood

I apologize in advance that pretty much all of my blogs from here on out will have something to do with Christmas.  Oh, I’m sorry, I meant to say “the holidays” as not to offend anyone.  It’s okay if you don’t currently like the holidays because unfortunately, you’ll love them by the time I’m done giving you all the reasons why you should.  In fact, the only thing you shouldn’t like about the holidays is people who force you to refer to them as “the holidays”  instead of Christmas, which you shouldn’t tolerate.  This reminds me of my previous boss who forced me to say “the holidays” whenever we were at a work outing.  Keyword: previous.

My first blog among the holiday installments will be about singlehood during the holiday season.  For all of you out there who’ve been recently dumped, it’s time to put away that sad face Macaulay McSulky.  You should be thanking your lucky days of the week underware right about now because this means you will be able to capitalize on the most wonderful hooking up time of the year! 

I will now dispense a list of reasons as to why you will love being single this holiday season, entitled:  the 8 Days of Christmas Singehood.  Why 8?  Because 7 just isn’t enough, and I couldn’t quite think of 9.   By the end of it, you may even love it so much that you might become jealous of yourself.

1.  on the first day of Christmas Singlehood,  just do whatever you want.  I mean, you can.  You’re single.

2.  on the second day of Christmas Singlehood, buy yourself a ridiculously insane gift and then marvel in the fact that you didn’t get chewed out by your shnookums because it was a waste of money, you already have enough of those,  or because you don’t have your priorities straight.

3. on the third day of Christmas Singlehood, go to your family gathering – not someone else’s crazypants relative’s house where you will inevitably feel obligated to at least try the jello mold and act overly enthusiastic about the dollar store candle or tool kit they bought you.

4 .  on the fourth day of Christmas Singlehood, enjoy relaxing by the fire, drinking some hot chocolate, and not accompanying your beloved to an awkward holiday work party where you will be forced to dress up and “get to know” all of the people that you hear continual griping about.

5.  on the fifth day of Christmas Singlehood, please don’t waste the big, pretty makeout snow.  Nothing screams “i want to make out”  like snow-  and no one has the power to resist a snowy makeout.  so do everyone a favor and bundle up, find yourself a hottie, and spread a little holiday joy.

6.  on the sixth day of Christmas,  watch the Charlie Brown Christmas Special and relish the fact that you aren’t having the following internal dialogue:  “but what if I spend too much …then they’ll feel like crap… but what if I spend too little… then I look like a creep?”

7.  on the seventh day of Christmas, don’t shave.  in fact, don’t shave for any of the days, cus why?   [men: this might be the perfect opportunity for you to grow out that beard you keep talking about, which your girlfriend would never allow.]

8. on the eighth day of Christmas, go see an action film.  not a christmasy piece of crap movie that you’d have to see if you were in a relationship.

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Shameless Celebrity Comebacks of 2008

[ I’ve received thousands of searches for this blog lately, so I’m just sticking it back on top of the pile to make life easier…notsomuch for me, but for you.]

 I’m now going to ask for your undivided attention.  not ask, command, with all the power of Dr. Phil’s mustache.  what I have to say could quite possibly change the course of your life OR history as we know it.  The words that are about to come out of my mouth are almost as delicious as the Wendy’s cheesy bacon potato i am currently enjoying, and you are not.  unless, are you?  I noticed it disappearing more rapidly than expected. 

So, i beg of you to please turn down whatever grossly pathetic show i can only imagine that you are watching, stop thinking about how you can quit your day job and somehow support yourself entirely off of blogging,  push off your TaeBo tape for one more day because at this point it’s a lost cause, and FOCUS on me!  Gosh,  the way you’re acting, you’d think we’ve been married for 85 years.

Madonna. 

i thought you retired?  what’s with the spread eagle?  and the street walker thigh highs? and the heavyweight belt?  and the gaping mouth?  are you panting because you just had a hot flash?  by the way, you’re FIFTY. 

      

  

      

 

The Spice Girls.                       No, i don’t wanna be your lover.   not in the 90’s, not now, not ever. 

 

The Osmonds.  Help!  It’s been decades since anyone has heard from the Osmonds, but suddenly they have taken over the world!

 

First it’s Marie prancing, dancing, and

fainting all over Dancing With the Stars.

 

 

 

  

 

 Then, in a random twist of

fate, Donny infiltrates the set

of Entertainment Tonight.  

 

 

  

 

Then, the world’s largest singing

mormon family is reunited

again under one roof.

 

 

 

Britney Spears’ Hair.

It’s been a very interesting year for your hair Britney.  Quite the page turner.

We’ve laughed.  we’ve cried.

 we’ve shrieked in horror.  but all in all, we miss it. 

please come back!

New Kids on the Block.   What exactly is happening here?  There is nothing more shameless than a bunch of middle aged men trying to re-live their past..  it’s more than just shameless, it might just be the shameLIEST.

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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 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 Kenny Chronicles: How to talk yourself out of dating almost anyone

Well, the election is over.  And although the world might be coming to an end, I will now be blogging more often.  So there’s always a rainbow, my friends, always.

 

So my best guy friend and I were discussing dating.  Not dating each other, but dating in general.  He shall remain nameless, but then again, I have remained nameless so the mere naming of my friend would have no meaning to you.  So I could technically name him, but I’m still not going to on the off chance you do know who I am and then you might figure it out.  But then again, if you do know who I am then you  already know who I’m talking about…  Well whatever!  Can you just stop being so difficult for one second of your life, and let me tell the freakin story! 

 

 

 

We often times find ourselves having these kind of conversations in hopes of figuring ourselves out and better understanding our issues so that we may become a beacon of light, a shining example for our gender.  Or we do it because we are the only ones who will not judge us for the ridiculous and terribly honest things we say.

 

First, there’s something you’ve got to understand about my friend.  Let’s call him Kenny.  Happy now?  Well, Kenny once broke up with a girl because of her elbows.  And I rejected a guy one time because he was too Italian.  And I love Italians, so as you can imagine, this was a tragedy of mass proportion.   The point is, we are relationally challenged.  We’re very good at talking ourselves out of things using any justification at our disposal, and if there isn’t one available then we just make it up.  Most of our conversations resemble reruns of Seinfeld or something of that nature.  Get the picture?  Of course you do.  You’re bright.

 

So we’re sitting there, discussing our problems and an exchange to the following effect takes place:

 

me: ok.  so, again, why can’t you like her?

 

ken:  well, the personality is great.  face is great.  everything is great.  and I might even say it’d be the real deal if…

 

me: ….if what?

 

ken:  it weren’t for the gap.

 

me: what gap?

 

ken: the teeth gap.  can’t get passed it.

 

me: Ok, so to recap: you’re not going to date this girl, who otherwise might be the one because you can’t get passed the gap?

 

ken: no, its not just the gap.  but thats a big part of it. 

 

me: well that’s good to know.  I’m glad it’s not just the gap, but that it’s a whole slew of frivilous things.  you’re growing.

 

ken:  i mean, if i could just close it somehow. [holds up his first finger and thumb to form a gap]

 

me:  close it?  not gonna happen.  and you can’t suggest that.  no.  NO.

 

ken:  no?  but what if….

 

me: no. 

 

 

Check out more of the Kenny Chronicles:

 

A Conversation at Starbucks 

 

Black Friday, depression, and a Salvation army chair

A Bad Gordita and Some Classy Water

 

 

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A Banker’s Life: Old Country Buffet and the price of a college education.

I come from a long line of procrastinators.  My dad, for example, still hasn’t started socking away money for my college education.  This would piss me off if it weren’t for the fact that I quit college anyway to pursue creative endeavors (and also cus I ran out of money), which have proved to be much more interesting than social sciences or whatever fake career I might have gotten.

 

This leads me to my next point – Senior citizens.  Who the heck do these people think they are?  I’m on the phone with a lady today and she wants me to do a money transfer for her.  The conversation is as follows:

 

Me:  Ok, I can transfer $100 from your savings to your checking, and that will be a $3 fee.

 

Her: Well it shouldn’t.

 

Me:  What?

 

Her:  It shouldn’t charge a fee.

 

Me:  Why is that?

 

Her:  Because I’m a Senior Citizen.

 

Me: Um. 

 

Her:  I have a loan with you guys too.

 

Me:  Ok.  Neither of those things make a difference.  There’s still a fee.

 

This isn’t Old Country Buffet.   

 

So, how old do you have to be before you start assuming that everything is just free? 

 

 

 

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The Ghost of Halloween Past

I know things are tough right now.  We’re all struggling.  Unemployment is rising.  Wages are falling.  Social Security is depleting.  We are facing a monumental election in which 50% of us are  guaranteed to be disappointed with the outcome….

So during this tumoltuous time, I would like to utilize this moment to say some encouraging words to you all.  I’m more than just a strikingly gorgeous face and some light comic relief on a friday night, you know.

Wait, what was that?  How do you know I’m strikingly gorgeous since I never post pictures of myself?  What kind of crap question is that?  Well, if you can’t just take my word for it then it’s time we stop this charade and end this here and now.

Anyway, I’d just wanted to remind you all that even though it may seem that the world is crumbling around you, at least your nose is still in tact.  And that, my friends, is not a luxury we all enjoy.

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Don’t buy crap from China

I’m glad you tuned in tonight, I have alot of important news coming your way – including the results of your poll.  This is a special moment in The Daily Elephant history as we’ve crossed over the 20k visitor mark in less than six months.  You know what this means right?  Oh, you don’t.  Well, I was hoping you would because I haven’t a clue.  Anyway, it seems like we should celebrate, so I’d like to say a big thank you to all my avid readers (uh, brandon?)  and random visitors who are but innocent bystanders of my opinionated ramblings.  Oh yes, and while we’re popping the champagne corks I might just mention that a non-fiction story I wrote is being published in Chicken Soup for the Soul: My Resolution, in stores this Dec. 23!

YOUR POLL ANALYSIS: Last week, I conducted an extremely scientific, double blind poll, regarding the “real issues” of election 08.  Your results are as follows:  33% (the majority) of you feel that college is a freaking waste of time and money because you still don’t acquire any real life experience, thus have to waste you time in a dead end job so you can work your way up.  26% of you believe, despite what environmentalists are telling us,  that we are actually more important than polar bears.  22% still can’t wrap their minds around how Rosie O’Donell is still allowed to live here, and finally 19% are dumbfounded by the educational system.

Of all the topics that the general public of this fine planet have handed me on a golden platter with a side of cheesy potatoes to devour and criticize… I feel this monumental blog should be an extra special one.  Therefore, I must search my soul to find the one quagmire has driven me completely witless.  What ever shall it be?

. . . . . let me sleep on it.

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OJ – No Juice Behind Bars?

I do apologize for the turn to Serioustown last week.  It’s a rare occurrence here at The Daily Elephant that I will engage in such serious talk, however, when I feel that the country is standing on the brink of a rather detrimental decision – I have to step in.   But lets get back to what’s really important.

 

Important lessons learned from the life of OJ:

 

1. You may slice and dice your wife in a fit of vicious rage, leave bloody evidence all over, and the judicial system will turn a blind eye.  Because hey, jealously happens.
2.  You may also kill your wife’s lover during said vicious rage.  Again, because why wouldn’t you?
3. Time to get in touch with your artsy side!  After the frenzy regarding these murders has finally passed, and the spotlight of interrogation is no longer over you, be sure to rub it in everyone’s face that you feel no remorse about what you’ve done.  I suggest perhaps writing a book describing in gruesome detail how you would have “actually killed them.”  That’ll fool em.
4. When the attention dies down from the book release – which might just infuriate people as opposed to prove your innocence- it will be time to commit another crime! 
5. Commit several scattered crimes of armed robbery, theft, and aggravated battery – just to change it up a bit- altering styles, locations, and alibis.  There’s nothing worse than being a predictable criminal.
6. After getting away with all of this, I suggest spending the majority of your golden years in this same manner, because hey, you only live once.

 

Please note: It is very important during all of this, that you don’t get discouraged!!!  Just because you really want to go to prison and things aren’t quite working out the way you planned, it doesn’t mean that your dreams won’t come true someday. 

 

In the words of Churchill:  “Never, ever, give up.” 

 

And look where he is now.

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