Some things are so outrageous that you think they can’t possibly be true. Yet they are. There is no way I could post the following on April 1st because no one would have believed it. Hell, I waited almost a week and yinz still might not believe it. Regardless, here goes…
My former coworker and I are still friends. He doesn’t work more than 10 minutes from our office and we will meet for drinks or sometimes another coworker and I will go to his camp for a night away. B is always full of stories about one of his employees, Tank. Usually when we meet at happy hour Tank joins us and I can assure you, the man is, how shall I say this…well, Tank is not the average bear. He is young, smart, funny, attractive, outgoing, and batshit crazy. His brain just doesn’t quite work the way same as most people. Tank’s stories always result in tears running down my face. Or my jaw hanging open. You never know when I’ll hear about Tank showing up in a limo, drunk, eating pizza at 4 AM on a night when one of the guys has a flat tire or some such insanity. Honestly, he is incredibly similar to the fictitious Twitter account DadBoner, but Tank is 100% real. (And technically homeless as months ago he moved out of his apartment, but not into anywhere new. An email from B: “One of Tank’s quotes written on the dry erase board right now is “Homelessness is the key to personal wealth – I’ve never had so much money.”)
About a week ago B emailed me that he thinks he made a mistake sending Tank and McBane on a work related trip out of town together. I received forwards of texts and emails:
“The two of them are traveling together. RW is spearheading the certification process. This is a listing of the texts I’ve received from Tank since the end of work yesterday:
McBane Packed for a fortnight (in regards to a picture of McBane with about 42 outfits on a hotel cart) (7:13 PM)
Dude, McBane just choked out RW. His tongue was literally sticking out of his mouth (12:38 AM)
Seriously (12:39 AM)
I’m never traveling with McBane again. (12:55 AM)
McBane loves Pepper, but he hates cinnamon (7:13 AM)
Everything I’ve said about him so far is absolute truth (7:15 AM)
He called the front desk last night because he lost track of which of his pillows was the “medium” firmness (7:17 AM)
That afternoon I received an update:
“McBane and I are pretty much the most unprepared people at this thing, but we’re really not sure what we need to do next. I just looked over at him and said, “so do you think we should start hammering this packet out or what?” To which he responded, “McBane has a deuce on deck that would choke a heifer” and he got up and stormed out of the room.
This is the worst.”
Did I mention that McBane is not much better? Oh yeah, that.
I received no more emails regarding their antics, so I kind of forgot about it. Until the next morning, when this popped up in my Inbox:
“Nothing from Tank, but I received these from McBane this morning:
Do you think Tank is going to be mad when he wakes only to find our curtains are decimated and on the ground and the mini fridge is laying next to him in the bed. (6:57 AM)
Our room looks like when they wake up in the hang over. Tank may have a monkey in his bed. (7:06 AM)
I’m pretty sure there’s a small Asian guy in the closet. Tank said he was making to much noise. (7:09 AM)”
Personally, I got nothing more until Friday. Then an email from B…
“Tank never came back to the hotel room last night. They were supposed to check out by 10:00 AM. McBane couldn’t get a hold of Tank and assumed the worst. It turns out, he hooked up with some girl and stayed at her place. The girl went to work and Tank went back to the hotel and he and McBane packed up and returned to this girls place (Tank had plans of staying the weekend there while McBane meets his brother in another part of town). McBane was looking around the place and seen a bunch of pet toys. He inquired upon what type of pet she had and Tank looked around and screamed in terror “Oh my God, we’ve lost the housecat.” They’ve searched everywhere and can’t find it. In an effort to find either the cat or a picture of the cat (Tank couldn’t remember what it looked like), they ransacked her place ripping apart closets, boxes under the bed, dresser drawers and the like. The place is now in complete disarray. They eventually looked outside and have found both a grey cat and a black & white cat. Being as Tank can’t remember what it looks like and never found any photos, he grabbed both cats and threw them in the door and they left. He’s just going to pretend like he doesn’t know what she’s talking about when/if she calls him to see why her place is ransacked and either a) she has an extra cat or b) her cat is missing and two strange cats are now living there. I can’t wait to hear how this turns out!”
Followed up with one more from B…
“Update: I just spoke with McBane. Apparently she had no idea McBane was going to be hanging out there (he was going to hang there with Tank until 3:00, then go meet his brother), so while they were searching for the cat/cat photos, McBane thought it would be real funny to mush all of her underwear into his pocket so that she would think Tank was a total perv and stole them. So now, she’s going to show up at a ransacked place, with either one extra cat, or two extra cats less her actual pet, and all of her underwear gone. I kept telling him to get out of DC and come back here so they don’t get arrested. McBane just kept laughing screaming “it’s all on Tank, she doesn’t even know I exist” while throwing underlings out of the passenger side window and Tank is driving in the background yelling “shut up dude, get rid of those f’n things. We both made a pact to never speak of it again. This isn’t even funny. Not remotely.” I can’t wait for more phone calls!”
I don’t doubt a word of any of this. And I find it all hilarious. Sadly, I’ve heard nothing else. Maybe B will leave a comment here with an update.
Years ago I was home on a December Saturday night, watching Mad TV, when the funniest spoof I had ever seen came on my screen. When it was over I stared at my TV, wondering if I had really just witnessed a Scorsese style take on Rudolph. Damned if I didn’t just find it on YouTube. God bless the internets.
(click here for actual YouTube page with video if you need it)
“Have a merry frikken Christmas” cracks me the fuck up! So does “We’ll get even, we’ll get even, we’ll make Santa pay.” And “Does my nose amuse you? Is it funny? Like a clown? No, no. Great nose!” (All quotes I still use to this day, but had forgotten why!)
Twitter needs a breathalyzer. Seems my ridiculous ramblings led to me receiving this message:
Congrats @hellohahanarf. You’ve won the first Weekend Drunk Twit of the Night award! We’re so proud. Keep on celebrating! #Drunktwitaward
Yep, there is a Twitter account that sent out this message:
Seen any funny drunk tweets? We’re looking for the best drunk twitterer tonight. Send your nominations to @WeekendDrunk #Drunktwitaward
So, which one of you fuckers turned me in to the Weekend Drunk folks?
Anyhow, back to my ramblings. They are below. You might want to start at the bottom, though. (My favorite? When I scream in all caps to the internet that I didn’t take advantage of the bartender who had a shift conveniently end while I was at his bar. I was flirting shamelessly and he said he wanted to see my sweet suite’s hot tub and that he would love to “party” with me.) So here we go…witness the ugly typos and drunken ramblings of a woman on her last night in Vegas:
mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm, i hear the thump thump allure of the Voodoo lounge. PEace, i’m out!! GOtta run upstairs with the beautiful people.
@quirkysarah Always., Just running around the hote/lcasino and trying not t o bang hot guys. AIn’t easy!!
@quirkysarah HIC! (I loev me some VODKA of the Ketel variety)
@mindymin Pssshaw. No tylenol necessaryh. A giant glass o watern and some more water. wheeeee!
HEY INTERNET, I DIDN”T FUCK THAT GUY FROM THE BARR. OI kmnow you werea ll worried. we are good!!@
i think i get a better conscious the more i drink cozz seriously i do.
@mindymin I meant to say “shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh” and i’m sorrry abiout all that ggggg stuff. !
@mtoast99 Don’t even sarart this game. Who’s on first. I don’t know. Third base bitcvh!!!!!!!!!!!
@GingerSnaps After all you do, I just hate that you have to deal with his stuupidass coz he sounds like a douche.
@GingerSnaps Drunk girl says Nurseboy can show the pin and certificate later. Him a douchebag. Then again, I haVE been drinking.
@GingerSnaps Aftger his receint behavior? Faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahkk him. SERIOUSLY.
@mtoast99 Well…ummmmmmmmm. Your face looks funnnier when I am drink. So tghere! hehe. ummmm. YEAH!
@Iron_Fist Oh don’t tempt me ,myfriend. it won’t be pretty. TURST ME!@
If drunk girl ,me shouldn’t have been Twitteringt earlier, imagine how much I shouldn’t me sending updaegts now. bitches. hehe
http://twitpic.com/4p7p4 – Indian dinner. Yum!!!
@sybillaw wish I knew why you thnik I amn funny! Xoxo
Ok, I sant spell Smithwick’s, but the Pens score!!!
What the fuck piece of shit Irish bar runs out of Smitheick’s? Seriously!
OK, I will blow who I have to blow…Let’s go pens!!!
It might be over. My hot bartender likes Crown.
http://twitpic.com/4owhu – Old fart from Buffalo who loves the Burgh
@burghbaby OK. That is it. I am going for it. Slap my ass and call me a cougar!!!
@burghbaby so if I ravish him, I can somehow blame your married, mommy self? Please say yes!! (He is adorable!)
Does everyone think they are going home with the hot young bartender, or am I really skirting the insane reality? I blame the sweet suite.
@quirkysarah turn on VS, silly. Pens are down and need you.
@Faiqa I have no doubt that you GLOW and don’t sweat. And I would love to see you all pretty and pregnant. Maybe soon…
@Faiqa Are you fucking kidding me? You are one of the most gorgeous & stunning people I know. And I know some gorgeous people!!!
Dear Pittsburgh Penguins, please commence to kicking ass and making my town proud. And help me play with this little boy. Thanks. XOXO, B
@burghbaby Love the new Twitter avatar!
Seriously hitting on cute bartender. Bad Becky. At least he was smart enough to put on the Pens game! (That means he wants me, right?)
@jonrandahl I am up! Whoooooo! (That means I am drinking in Vegas & flirting with the bartender.)
@mindymin DEAL!! Things settle down around the 18th. P.S. I am at an “Irish” bar that is out of Smithwick’s…how fucking sad is that??!?!
@jonrandahl oh…and HI!!!!
@jonrandahl Yes what is?
@snackiepoo Not only am I real, but tomorrow’s HNT was censored for you!
@BEFinn If you promise that the only time I will be on camera is to make out with @dutch_bitch, then I wholeheartedly agree.
@BEFinn Live video stream? Fuck. Is it too late to change my RSVP? Maybe this is a party I need to skip!
@mindymin you make me laugh. one of these days we are gonna have beers together, dammit!
I’m not sure which one of us is the stupid bitch. Maybe we both are. All I know is my little cousin Re (Twinkle Twat) can get me to do just about anything just by asking and throwing in a “C’mon!” Normally I don’t give a shit about peer pressure, don’t care at all what others do or don’t want me to do. But there is something about when Re wants me to do something…I lose my fucking mind and do it.
Maybe it is because I was 10 years old when she was born and she was better than any stuffed animal or baby doll. Beautiful and happy, always wanting to snuggle like a little monkey. Just a perfect little kid. If she was fussing she immediately stopped when I held her. When Aunt Mare attempted her first shower with Re and Re’s older sister it didn’t go well and I came running to the hollered word HELP. A sobbing toddler was handed to me and I will never forget how great it felt for little Re to cling to me and stop crying while I held her and dried her off. Perhaps I still want to make her happy, I don’t know, but I’ll do just about anything she wants.
Example? A few years ago our cousin got married in Virgina, near DC. I drove Re’s truck (Ford Ranger 4×4) the entire way. When we arrived at our hotel we were hungry. And thirsty. We left the hotel and found a pizza place, but couldn’t find liquor store or beer distributor (in Pennsylvania you must go to one or the other for anything containing alcohol). Re gets the brilliant idea that we should go through the McDonald’s drivethru and just ask the person behind the microphone where to buy booze. “C’mon.”
Damned if I didn’t shrug my shoulders and say ok. The truck was filled with laughter as we sat in the line, but we all immediately straightened up when it was our turn at the microphone.
An extremely accented voice rang out, “Welcome to McDonald’s, may I take your order?”
“Umm. No order, thank you. I was just wondering if you could tell me where the nearest liquor store is.”
“This is McDonald’s, may I take your order?”
“I understand this is McDonald’s, thank you. Could you tell me where to buy booze?”
“No booze here. THIS IS MCDONALD’S.”
“I am not from around here, but I can clearly see that this is McDonald’s. I don’t want food, I want to buy alcohol somewhere. Do you know where I can purchase alcohol?”
“MA’AM, THIS IS MCDONALD’S!”
“Look, I understand that this is McDonald’s, but I just want a damn case of beer. Where the fuck can I buy beer in this town? Seriously, all I want is beer. Help me and I will leave you alone.”
“MA’AM, THIS IS MCDONALD’S. WE DON’T SELL BEER.”
“For the love of all that is holy, do you ever drink beer? If so, where do you buy it? Help a girl out. Please. Where do I buy a case of beer?”
“MA’AM, THIS IS MCDON…”
“STOP SAYING THAT!”
Right about now the SUV in front of us, which has been bouncing with laughter this entire time as they obviously heard the exchange, has a woman lean out and happily holler back at us, “Just at the corner is an ABC Store. They will have some of what you want and can point you to anything else. Have fun!”
We pulled out and around, gratefully expressing our thanks to the SUV couple, then headed down to the corner. The store held just about everything we wanted and we spent entirely too much money there. As we headed back to the truck I told Re she was an asshole for getting me to ask that poor English as a second language guy where to buy booze.
“We should go back and tell him where to buy alcohol in case anyone else ever asks. C’mon…”
Not only did my beloved Steelers pull out one hell of a win, but I received all kinds of encouraging messages before, during and after the game. Some text messages, a few Twitter messages, several text messages to my phone and a few phone calls. All to tell me that the Steelers made folks think of me or that they were watching and rooting for my boys. From California to Massachusetts to Florida and many parts in between. I’m telling you, sometimes I fell like I am 80 because the internet *still* manages to amaze me. Love being connected to you guys. Awesome. Like a possum.
Oh. Guess I should explain that one. hehe
Well, one of my bosses has about a hundred cats, give or take 20, plus she also puts food outside for any of the ones who live outside that she can’t lure in. (Sure, I am exaggerating here, but the woman does love the kitties and she does make sure that if any are passing through the neighborhood, they can grab a bite safely on her back porch.) ANYhow, several raccoons enjoy the free buffet also. It is pretty cool to sit in her dining room and look out the sliding glass door to see two raccoons and a feral cat eating out of the same bowl. Some of the cats have even taken to washing their paws in the water bowl, just like the raccoons.
So one day, K’s teenage stepson looks out the sliding glass doors and says, “Wow, there is an anteater out there.”
“There’s an anteater out back.”
“Yeah, it is awesome.”
Today my cousin Sarah and I had lunch with our cousin Twinkle Twat. It was a treat to dine with her made even better because her almost three your old son was with us. Bravo was a great choice because of their crayons and paper on the table, plus the waitress was smart enough to bring pizza dough for Aidan to play with. Delicious meal that ended all too early.
We decided to not end the party after lunch, instead heading to Soergel’s in order for Aidan to pick his own pumpkin. Their fall festival is wonderful and has everything from pony rides to a giant bouncy castle to underground slides to hay mazes to tractor drawn hay rides. And more. We had an excellent afternoon, but I wanted to get back in order to watch the 4 PM Steelers game.
Driving back in the perfect fall day (62 degrees and sunny), Sarah and I were chatting away when I considered exceeding the speed limit to pass a slow car. As I started to move into the left lane I caught sight of a state trooper on the left side of the highway, sort of behind some bushes. Instead of passing I drifted the few feet back into the right lane. Too late, he pulled out and eventually caught up to my vehicle, then kept going in the left lane. Got way up ahead of me so we thought he was going after someone who was speeding until we saw him pull off to the left and stop on the shoulder. WTF? We passed the trooper again and eventually he pulled back out, caught up, dropped in behind me and turned on his lights. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.
Immediately I flipped on a turn signal and pulled onto the right shoulder. The 30 something trooper approached the passenger side as I was reaching across a very pregnant Sarah while rooting in the glove box for my registration. He smiled and started the conversation by saying that he didn’t like the part of his job where he had to be mean. In all honestly I told him that I knew he wasn’t being mean, that my dad was a cop, as was Sarah’s dad, and I appreciated that he was just doing his job. He asked where our dads worked so we both said they each retired from the City of Pittsburgh. Seems my registration was up at the end of August, it is now the end of October, and Mr. I Don’t Wanna Be Mean had already ran my plate so he had to give me a ticket. I nodded in understanding which seemed to encourage Mr. Kindness. He told me to plead not guilty and go to the hearing where he will show up to do his best to persuade the magistrate to find me not guilty because he tries to take care of his brothers’ families. Then he went back to the patrol car to write the ticket. Without even saying a word about me not wearing a seat belt!
Sarah and I were talking and looking at baby stuff she had in her lap, kind of laughing and hoping that he didn’t notice my inspection sticker had also expired. (Yep, I was one hell of a moving violation today. Uggggggggggh. Note to self: register and inspect the damn SUV!) We had barely been alone, maybe less than two minutes, when the cop was back in the window. Kind of scared us that he was back so quickly. Seems he decided against writing the ticket. Didn’t want the trouble. Wha??!?!!! “No, that’s ok. I don’t want you to get in trouble. Just write the ticket.”
He refused. Again I told him that since he ran my plates the powers that be know he pulled me over so he should just write me a ticket. (And fucking quickly, the Steelers game was about to start and I didn’t want to have to speed the fuck home!) Yet he let me go.
On one hand I am grateful because I don’t have massive tickets to pay, yet on the other hand I don’t think preferential treatment should be given to other cops, let alone the families of other cops. BUT, all of that was not what this post was to be about. Nope. All of that reminded me of a story that still cracks me up.
About 18 or 19 years ago my Mom and Dad had separated. It would be an understatement to say that the separation and impending divorce was not friendly. One particularly bad day Mom was speeding while driving right past a city cop. She was overwhelmed and as he stepped to her window. Mom pretty much burst into tears and tried talking her way out of the ticket. She even mentioned being married to a cop. This guy wanted none of it, just her license and registration. He went back to his car, returning with the completed ticket for Mom to sign. As she handed him back the pen she sobbed, “Great! Now I have been fucked by two cops!!”
So this past week I got all brave…brave to the point of posting my oh so not small ass on the internet. Here for Half Nekkid Thursday and also over where it all started. Here in the underwear, over at Osbasso’s place in nothing but a white shirt, fishnets and heels. Although slightly nervous because my body is not as spectacular as Vixen or Biscuit or any number of stunning women who post for HNT, being the Mystery Guest was still something that I wanted to do, as was pushing a personal boundary by putting up a photo of my rear.
So I went for it. Hit publish. Maybe four positive and encouraging comments hit my inbox (yay!). Then nuttin. Not a damn thing. Crickets in the inbox. My normal predominately confident self started to crack a bit and doubt whether or not anyone wanted to see my big old butt. Had I made a mistake? Was I too confident?
Another hour and no more comments. Fuck, they can’t find anything nice to say. Not even anything funny. That’s not good. Another hour. Another nothing.
At lunch I tried to reach Jester’s site and couldn’t get to it. Host Gator was showing a cranky message. Just about then a friend sent me an instant message that they couldn’t reach my site. Seemed my site was down (so THAT is why no comments!), as were all of the sites that Jester hosts.
All I could do was laugh…my butt broke the internet. Plus my butt took down other sites along with my own! How many folks can say that? Os and I had a good laugh about it. We might start selling t-shirts that say “My Butt Broke the Internet” so place your orders now.
(Thanks to Jester for quickly getting us back up and running.)
Now, onto the post I originally wanted to post today:
That magnet is on my fridge. You can clicky to make it bigger. It says:
Amazing, the architect of my destiny.
Beautiful, both inside and out.
Courageous, being true to myself.
Dynamic, constantly changing and growing.
Enlightened, knowing all is well with the world.
Fallible, perfectly imperfect.
Grateful, for each and every day.
Healthy, full of energy.
Intuitive, honoring the still small space within.
Joyful, celebrating the truth of my being.
Kindhearted, reaching out to others.
Lovable, exactly as I am.
Miraculous, a precious child of the universe.
Now Here, fully in this moment.
Optimistic, anything is possible.
Prosperous, manifesting abundance.
Quick to build bridges, not walls.
Resourceful, obstacles are my stepping stones.
Spiritual, having a human experience.
Trustworthy, speaking the language of the heart.
Unique, the only me there is, was or ever will be.
Valuable, I make a difference.
Wise, open to all of life’s lessons.
Xcited, about living and loving life.
Young at heart, delightfully childlike.
Zestful, happy to be me!
(A girl can’t help but be happy and confident when such nice things are seen every day.)
Friday Cinderella and I decided to take a run to Adult Mart on our lunch hour. Because we can. God bless America!
We were finding everything we looked for and in general having a good time when we turned around to see this, the Becky doll:
You might remember that last week while in Vegas the hotel had everything, including the towels, marked with a B for the Bellagio Becky. I told Cinderella that when she found towels marked with a C she could use them, but until then she had to drip dry. Also told her she had to walk the ten flights of stairs to our room because the elevators were each marked with a B. Well when she saw that I had my own blow up doll, complete with the leopard print thingy, she was not exactly thrilled. An Adult Mart employee made as huge mistake when they asked if we were finding everything we needed. “No! No we are not,” she hollered. “Where’s the damn Cinderella doll?” I almost peed my pants.
Going anywhere with that woman is an adventure. She always makes me giggle. I am so glad she works with me.
On a different note, the trees on the parkway are so pretty this time of the year. Made for a nice drive to the sex store.
Hi. I’m (about to be) in Denver. Today is the last day of September. Although it is the last day of Ovarian Cancer Awareness Month, please keep praying for a cure and don’t let this killer escape your thoughts the other 12 months of the year.
I’m hating that my friend Lisa has to battle this terrible disease. Fuck cancer.
And fuck the Ravens. Stillers win!!! Waaaaaahooooooo! It was nice to have Monday Night Football keep me company while I worked late and then got to packing.
The funniest thing I have seen in a long time would have to be Karl’s final birthday dare. Never have I heard of someone doing dares in celebration of their birthday, but I now love the idea. Not that anyone could top Karl. Having his back waxed on video for us was pretty awesome, putting on the adult diaper and going through the drive thru was funny, but his video for Katy Perry’s “I Kissed a Girl” was down right hysterical. I actually hurt myself laughing. And I even watched the damn thing more than once. Probably as much for his balls sticking out of the skirt as to check out the butt of the girl crawling over to him around the 45 second mark. Yeah, I said it.
If you haven’t seen the genius video, click HERE.
(P.S. Yes, Karl is the same Karl of the “whacking it, jacking it, peeing on the floor” fame. The guy is to awesome for words!)
Ok, it was so good that I decided to embed the video. You need to watch this, then go over to Karl‘s and check out his other birthday dares. Karl, you really are the king! (Your crown is still in my garage. I’ll bring it to the Halloween party.)
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Ξ September 3rd, 2008 | → 10 Comments | ∇ humor |
I mean seriously, who has time for this? Click here.
We are talking Christian Bale and Kermit, for fuck’s sake!
(Yes, I laughed a bit. Don’t judge!)
For September and always…