Today, I decided I'd make up a fake girlfriend and then tell everyone at work about her.
But, before I could do that, I shot myself in the foot by explaining my plan to everyone at work.
"Let's try it out," Julie said. "What's her name?"
"Veronica," I said.
"What color is her hair?"
"Uh. . ., " I said. It was a difficult question. "Black," I finally said. "I'll make her Asian. I've never dated an Asian before."
"Hmm, an Asian named Veronica, huh?" Julie asked.
"Did I say Asian?" I asked. "I meant Hispanic."
"Okay, what did you do on your first date?" Julie asked.
"I don't know," I said. "This is hard. I'm changing my mind. I don't want a fake girlfriend anymore."
"Did you have sex on the first date?" Julie asked.
"Yes," I said. "In her mansion."
"What room?" Julie asked.
"The billiard room," I said.
"On the pool table?" Julie asked.
"Yes," I said.
Eventually I had to elaborate on how anti-social Veronica is, and how she gets drunk and tries to start fights, so I was hesitant to introduce her to any friends. I got lazy and ran out of things to make up, so I finally admitted I was lying.
"Look, her name's not Veronica and she's not Hispanic and we didn't have sex on a pool table," I said. "Her name's Angela."
"What's she do for a living?" Julie asked.
"She a bartender," I said.
"What bar?" Julie asked. "I'll go visit."
"Uh, she WAS a bartender in LA," I said. "She just moved here. She doesn't have a job here, yet." Then I thought better and said, "You know what, I'm lying again."
It's hard to make up girlfriends.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
The Death of Chandler
I had a dream the other night that I was watching an episode of FRIENDS. It was the first episode of a new season. For some reason, Chandler was unemployed and homeless. The other friends went to visit Chandler where he was temporarily living, in a big, junk-filled post apocalyptic wasteland.
Ross made an inappropriate joke about how he had just eaten and he was already hungry. Chandler shot back that he was REALLY starving. Awkward. After this, the friends went on their way.
The next day, they received a letter or something (I'm a little unclear on this) informing them that Chandler had died from starvation and exposure overnight. That's weird, I thought to myself. Kill Chandler off in the first episode of a new season. That's season finale type stuff.
The remaining "friends" went to visit his campsite in the garbage heap and found a stereo sitting there. For some reason, this stereo triggered a flashback for Monica.
At this point the episode flashed back to the early days of the show and showed how Monica first met Chandler. Somehow it involved the stereo, I can't remember how. Everyone looked super awkward like everything did in the early 90s when everyone still thought it might be the 80s.
Joey showed up, and had a dumb hair style.
"Woa," the person I was watching the show with said. "Joey's hair looks dumb."
Then I woke up.
Ross made an inappropriate joke about how he had just eaten and he was already hungry. Chandler shot back that he was REALLY starving. Awkward. After this, the friends went on their way.
The next day, they received a letter or something (I'm a little unclear on this) informing them that Chandler had died from starvation and exposure overnight. That's weird, I thought to myself. Kill Chandler off in the first episode of a new season. That's season finale type stuff.
The remaining "friends" went to visit his campsite in the garbage heap and found a stereo sitting there. For some reason, this stereo triggered a flashback for Monica.
At this point the episode flashed back to the early days of the show and showed how Monica first met Chandler. Somehow it involved the stereo, I can't remember how. Everyone looked super awkward like everything did in the early 90s when everyone still thought it might be the 80s.
Joey showed up, and had a dumb hair style.
"Woa," the person I was watching the show with said. "Joey's hair looks dumb."
Then I woke up.
Alpha and Omega
Today I noticed that Gretchen Mol is starring in an upcoming movie called "An American Affair." She's playing Marilyn Monroe.
A few years ago, Gretchen Mol starred in "The Notorious Bettie Page." She played Bettie Page.
So, if you've ever had sex with Gretchen Mol, congratulations.
A few years ago, Gretchen Mol starred in "The Notorious Bettie Page." She played Bettie Page.
So, if you've ever had sex with Gretchen Mol, congratulations.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Pride
I was on the train the other day, and I noticed the woman sitting in front of me was allowing her daughter to play with a condom.
The toddler stretched it out, put it to her lips to blow it up, swung it around.
The woman already had an inflated condom tied to her hair with a ribbon. When it fell to the floor of the train, a haggard old man picked it up and handed it to her.
I never thought I'd see a 4-year-old play with a condom, but now I'm one step closer to seeing everything.
Thanks, Portland Pride, 2009.
The toddler stretched it out, put it to her lips to blow it up, swung it around.
The woman already had an inflated condom tied to her hair with a ribbon. When it fell to the floor of the train, a haggard old man picked it up and handed it to her.
I never thought I'd see a 4-year-old play with a condom, but now I'm one step closer to seeing everything.
Thanks, Portland Pride, 2009.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Goodbye, Grandma
I have a beautiful framed portrait of my Grandma and Grandpa, taken when they were still a young couple. My Grandpa, who died before I was born, looks like Clark Gable, only more conventionally handsome, if you can believe it, and not as goofy looking -- pencil mustache, cleft chin, hair slicked back, dressed in a neat suit.
My Grandma doesn't look like any particular movie star -- in fact, I think she looks a little more contemporary -- sure, the white dress adorned with flowers is a classy 1930s or 40s style, as is the oversized Summer hat and curled hair -- but the look on her face is not the puppy-dog romanticism of someone like Lillian Gish. It's more determined and independent -- there's a sweet, relaxed smile on her lips and contended look in her eyes, but there's strength there as well. And, this was before she was forced to really become independent after my Grandpa's early passing, when she became a single, working mother of two children.
When people come over to visit, sometimes they look at the portrait and ask who it's a picture of. So, I tell them, my grandma and grandpa. And, many times, they don't believe me. "No," they say, "It's someone famous, right? It's the picture that came with the frame, right?" No, I say, that's them. Grandma and Grandpa.
Grandma passed this early afternoon. She grew short of breath and her heart stopped. She was in her early 90s. My mom and sister, who was in town for my mom's upcoming retirement party, were on their way to visit her when she died. They had a moment to be alone with her before she was taken away, and soon she'll return home to Ohio, where she grew up and lived most of her life until the last few years when she moved to Oregon so my mom could help take care of her.
We used to call her Grandma Fufu, I guess because we couldn't pronounce her last name, Ferry. She came to visit a lot when my sister and I were still young, and there were many summer vacations to Ohio to visit her over the years, in the same house where my mom grew up.
One story my Grandma always told about me was the day she was playing with me and I crawled up onto the back of the couch to watch a red robin outside the window. She said I pointed at it and said, "Wobin." I'm not sure why that stuck in her head, but it was one story she often repeated to me, and now it's stuck in my head, too.
At every holiday meal, when the family would get together, Grandma would make sure to mention how bad she felt for the people out there who didn't have anything to eat or any family to be with. Then, she'd clean her plate, as if she still had a teenager's appetite. The first time I witnessed her amazing plate cleaning skills, I pointed it out. After that, she never let me get away from the table without beating me to the punch and pointing it out herself, even the last time I saw her.
She couldn't have raised two more different children -- my Uncle, Jim, a passionate, opinionated man, always with a story to tell and always with something up his sleeve, and my mom, Jane, who is organized, responsible, detail oriented and likes to follow the rules. My guess would be that my Uncle Jim is more like my Grandpa was, and my mom is more like my Grandma was, even down to following in her footsteps and becoming a teacher. But, my mom and Uncle do have some things in common --both are fiercely independent and natural leaders, traits they clearly got from Grandma. They also both have a great sense of humor. I never knew my Grandma to be a great joker, beyond brief, memorable moments, but she must have been, by virtue of the fact that she raised a couple of her own jokers.
When I think about my own family, I often think about the balance my mom is able to strike between being warm, loving and funny while also taking on the role of the one to hold the family together, get things done, and make sure business is taken care of. I think this trait must be a tribute to my Grandma's example.
My Grandma never stopped loving my Grandpa after he passed on, around 50 years ago. She always had his memory with her. Now, we all have our memories of her with us, forever.
My Grandma doesn't look like any particular movie star -- in fact, I think she looks a little more contemporary -- sure, the white dress adorned with flowers is a classy 1930s or 40s style, as is the oversized Summer hat and curled hair -- but the look on her face is not the puppy-dog romanticism of someone like Lillian Gish. It's more determined and independent -- there's a sweet, relaxed smile on her lips and contended look in her eyes, but there's strength there as well. And, this was before she was forced to really become independent after my Grandpa's early passing, when she became a single, working mother of two children.
When people come over to visit, sometimes they look at the portrait and ask who it's a picture of. So, I tell them, my grandma and grandpa. And, many times, they don't believe me. "No," they say, "It's someone famous, right? It's the picture that came with the frame, right?" No, I say, that's them. Grandma and Grandpa.
Grandma passed this early afternoon. She grew short of breath and her heart stopped. She was in her early 90s. My mom and sister, who was in town for my mom's upcoming retirement party, were on their way to visit her when she died. They had a moment to be alone with her before she was taken away, and soon she'll return home to Ohio, where she grew up and lived most of her life until the last few years when she moved to Oregon so my mom could help take care of her.
We used to call her Grandma Fufu, I guess because we couldn't pronounce her last name, Ferry. She came to visit a lot when my sister and I were still young, and there were many summer vacations to Ohio to visit her over the years, in the same house where my mom grew up.
One story my Grandma always told about me was the day she was playing with me and I crawled up onto the back of the couch to watch a red robin outside the window. She said I pointed at it and said, "Wobin." I'm not sure why that stuck in her head, but it was one story she often repeated to me, and now it's stuck in my head, too.
At every holiday meal, when the family would get together, Grandma would make sure to mention how bad she felt for the people out there who didn't have anything to eat or any family to be with. Then, she'd clean her plate, as if she still had a teenager's appetite. The first time I witnessed her amazing plate cleaning skills, I pointed it out. After that, she never let me get away from the table without beating me to the punch and pointing it out herself, even the last time I saw her.
She couldn't have raised two more different children -- my Uncle, Jim, a passionate, opinionated man, always with a story to tell and always with something up his sleeve, and my mom, Jane, who is organized, responsible, detail oriented and likes to follow the rules. My guess would be that my Uncle Jim is more like my Grandpa was, and my mom is more like my Grandma was, even down to following in her footsteps and becoming a teacher. But, my mom and Uncle do have some things in common --both are fiercely independent and natural leaders, traits they clearly got from Grandma. They also both have a great sense of humor. I never knew my Grandma to be a great joker, beyond brief, memorable moments, but she must have been, by virtue of the fact that she raised a couple of her own jokers.
When I think about my own family, I often think about the balance my mom is able to strike between being warm, loving and funny while also taking on the role of the one to hold the family together, get things done, and make sure business is taken care of. I think this trait must be a tribute to my Grandma's example.
My Grandma never stopped loving my Grandpa after he passed on, around 50 years ago. She always had his memory with her. Now, we all have our memories of her with us, forever.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Current events
Today two chicks in the lunch room were talking about that chick who invited a pregnant lady over to her house under the pretense of exchanging baby clothes, then killed her and cut the baby out of her. The baby died, too.
"You know," the first chick said, "My boyfriend always says if someone did anything like that to me, he'd kill them."
"Yeah," the second chick said. "My husband always says that too. He says he doesn't care if he'd have to go to jail for the rest of his life, he'd still kill anyone who would do something like that to me."
I thought to myself, "Wow, I wouldn't kill anyone."
I guess that's why I'm single!
ZING!
The conversation continued:
"What could bring someone to do something like that?" the chicks asked each other.
"Maybe the pregnant lady killed the chick's husband," I said . . .
. . . in my head.
See, I'm getting better.
"You know," the first chick said, "My boyfriend always says if someone did anything like that to me, he'd kill them."
"Yeah," the second chick said. "My husband always says that too. He says he doesn't care if he'd have to go to jail for the rest of his life, he'd still kill anyone who would do something like that to me."
I thought to myself, "Wow, I wouldn't kill anyone."
I guess that's why I'm single!
ZING!
The conversation continued:
"What could bring someone to do something like that?" the chicks asked each other.
"Maybe the pregnant lady killed the chick's husband," I said . . .
. . . in my head.
See, I'm getting better.
Friday, June 5, 2009
Too much information.
I don't think people know what TMI means. Here's why:
There is a woman at my work who is in love with Edward Cullen (the dude from TWILIGHT).
Today, someone jokingly asked her if she makes her husband dress up like Edward Cullen. I'm not sure how you'd dress up like Edward Cullen, other than looking sad and making your hair really tall, but he asked anyway.
"No," she said replied.
"TMI!" two co-workers yelled.
"Wait," I said. "She said no. That's not TMI."
"Either answer is TMI!" the co-workers agreed.
"No," I thought. "My default assumption would be that she does NOT make her husband dress like Edward Cullen. So finding out my guess is correct is not really TMI."
Incidentally, even if it was TMI, you shouldn't say, "TMI!"
The last time it was cool was when Mia Wallace said, "That's a liiiiiiitle more information than I needed, Vincent, but go right ahead." Even then it was suspect, and that was 15 years ago.
There is a woman at my work who is in love with Edward Cullen (the dude from TWILIGHT).
Today, someone jokingly asked her if she makes her husband dress up like Edward Cullen. I'm not sure how you'd dress up like Edward Cullen, other than looking sad and making your hair really tall, but he asked anyway.
"No," she said replied.
"TMI!" two co-workers yelled.
"Wait," I said. "She said no. That's not TMI."
"Either answer is TMI!" the co-workers agreed.
"No," I thought. "My default assumption would be that she does NOT make her husband dress like Edward Cullen. So finding out my guess is correct is not really TMI."
Incidentally, even if it was TMI, you shouldn't say, "TMI!"
The last time it was cool was when Mia Wallace said, "That's a liiiiiiitle more information than I needed, Vincent, but go right ahead." Even then it was suspect, and that was 15 years ago.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Eating crow
Conversation I overheard the other day:
MAN 1: You gotta go to court? What for?
MAN 2: They say "aggrevated battery."
MAN 1: Oh shit, man.
MAN 2: Yeah. I wish I could've strangled those fuckin' cops but I got three little ones at home and one on the way, so sometimes you gotta eat crow, you know?
MAN 1: You gotta go to court? What for?
MAN 2: They say "aggrevated battery."
MAN 1: Oh shit, man.
MAN 2: Yeah. I wish I could've strangled those fuckin' cops but I got three little ones at home and one on the way, so sometimes you gotta eat crow, you know?
Monday, June 1, 2009
Excuses, excuses.
I thought of the perfect excuse for not giving blood at work today. It was so obvious I should have thought of it years ago.
Usually, what happens is, I don't sign up to give blood. Then, at the last minute, the human resources people run around seeing if they can get anyone else to give blood. Sometimes it's just a matter of avoiding them, but usually they sneak up on you and you have to make up a reason on the spot why you don't want to give blood.
I've thought of bullshit political reasons, I've simply admitted it makes me uncomfortable, I've even given in on occassion and just gone through with it (though that's a bad move because then they never forget you).
Anyway, long story short (too late), I thought of the best excuse ever today. I decided I'd tell the human resources person that I was swamped with work and couldn't afford to be away from my desk for any amount of time.
I figured the human resources person would then say, "Oh it's no big deal, it'll be like 20 minutes."
To which I would say, "No, last time I was out for like an hour and I just can't risk that today with deadlines, etc."
And then, the human resources person would have to back off, because at work "having to work" is a bullet proof excuse.
So, I was all pumped.
And they never came around.
Usually, what happens is, I don't sign up to give blood. Then, at the last minute, the human resources people run around seeing if they can get anyone else to give blood. Sometimes it's just a matter of avoiding them, but usually they sneak up on you and you have to make up a reason on the spot why you don't want to give blood.
I've thought of bullshit political reasons, I've simply admitted it makes me uncomfortable, I've even given in on occassion and just gone through with it (though that's a bad move because then they never forget you).
Anyway, long story short (too late), I thought of the best excuse ever today. I decided I'd tell the human resources person that I was swamped with work and couldn't afford to be away from my desk for any amount of time.
I figured the human resources person would then say, "Oh it's no big deal, it'll be like 20 minutes."
To which I would say, "No, last time I was out for like an hour and I just can't risk that today with deadlines, etc."
And then, the human resources person would have to back off, because at work "having to work" is a bullet proof excuse.
So, I was all pumped.
And they never came around.
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