Cooler than You: Stupid Things I Say and Do

Today I desperately needed to see something other than harvested tobacco, peanut, soy, and cotton fields. And, if you've been reading any of the recent posts you know that I REALLY needed to breathe some dirty air. Well, I am in Dixie and the air just doesn't get that dirty down here. I know . . . I know . . . someone out there is sayin' sure it does, just come on over to this here manure pile. While that smell is nasty, it is not dirty. What I am talking about is the dirty of traffic. The dirty of congestion. The dirty of jerk offs who drive one person to a car, when car pooling, bike riding, or subway hoping would be so much cheaper, efficient, and eco-friendly. I know, that was my green moment of the day. So, I drove up to Richmond to pic up some shot blocks for when I run. Really, they do help prevent cramping. I jumped in my trusty little Ford and cruised I-95 to Whole Foods. The thing you have to remember is that Richmond is a city on the bridge of modernit...

For lack of something better at the moment . . . "Ya'll." I'm back in Dixie, go figure. "Well bless your heart." In the south this is the female equivalent of saying piss off. "He's about as useful as a bucket of chicken." This one has been said on numerous occasions, I am sure you can get the drift. " . . . when monkey's fly outta my ass." As in when someone asks me to do about twelve things at once, or when someone asks about me about getting back to together with the ex . . . "Well butter my butt and call me cornbread." This shouldn't need an explanation. "It's a lick my tailpipe kind of day." I miss traffic and the city. Sometimes I contemplate licking my car's tailpipe to simulate the nausea of smog. "Dirty Jersey." Just about everyone from Strong Island says that about New Jersey. "Strong Island." Just about everyone from Long Island will call it that from time to time...

I realize I should have done this on 9 November, but I didn't feel like it. Instead . . . I'm a few days late. Kiss it, I amused you in the meantime. We all know by now, and if you don't you should be ASHAMED, that 9 November marked the twenty year anniversary of the Berlin Wall falling. Now, I bet you want to know where this historian was? I bet you think I have some kind of magical story about staring at the face of Communism and tyranny crumbling down, that I stood united with others, chanting and crying, rejoicing about the destruction of evils gone by? Yea well . . . this historian was in Fort Wayne, IN at Holy Cross Lutheran, in the seventh grade, and most likely getting into some kind of trouble with Steve, Jill, and Andy. Mostly, that concerned Steve and me spending a lot of time in the hallway. The day the wall fell I do remember sitting in the hall cutting jokes with Steve because . . . drum roll please . . . we got kicked out of religion class. Good times...

Tonight we shall blame my friend Burberry. He posted a photo of the Halloween/Thanksgiving display at the White Castle in Centereach, NY on Facebook, and this diatribe came back to me. This encounter occurred about two months ago, and I'm finally getting around to grossing you out with it. The short end is my Dad grew up in Indiana. He grew up on the homegrown smell, aroma (if you want to call it that), and allure of White Castle. White Castle is hard to find in most of the country, and when I moved to Long Island all those years ago he was beside himself with joy to see a White Castle. I was not. I never ate there. Honestly, you can even ask my old roommate about the night we went there and she scarfed down far too many sliders, put chicken rings on her fingers as jewelry, and made "boobie sliders" by placing them on her chest. Clearly, someone was DRUNKY DRUNKY. I sucked on a Diet Coke and attempted to hold my breath, and the only time I ever ended up in ther...

In no particular order. 1. I miss traffic. Seriously, some days I miss the smell of smog and congestion so much that I fight the urge to lick my tailpipe to give me that nauseous feeling of smog. 2. There was an episode of _Sex and the City_ when Carrie and the girls talked about their secret single behavior. Carrie said she ate saltine crackers with grape jelly while standing in her kitchen reading fashion magazines. I almost fell off of my futon that night. While I despise grape jelly and saltines, I did love standing in my kitchen eating raspberry jam on crackers. I also usually read a trashy magazine while doing so. I shit you not. 3. I miss sitting on my yoga ball while watching tv and grading papers. Really, I did do that. My stomach was firmer . . . 4. There is something to be said about walking around your house and not worrying about a robe or towel. Yes, folks . . . this is known as being naked. Even better is leaving your clothes on the floor and not giving a rats...

Seriously, I just bought myself a boyfriend. Even better, I bought four--yes FOUR--of them. Okay, so I should tell you to close your jaws, get your minds out of the XXX store, and take note that I bought the said boyfriend(s) on Sorority Life. SL is game I sometimes kill boredom woes with on Facebook. The game itself is a sad testament to real sorority girls, but none-the-less . . . tonight I noticed a new feature under the "glam" button. I bought me a nerd, frat boy, foreign exchange, and a guy across the hall. Each of them costs 40,000; 600; 600; and 30,000 respectively. Now, this story gets even better. "Neville the Nerd" costs 20 bucks in upkeep, the others cost nothing, and they can all be sold for 20,000 (nerd), 15,000 (guy across the hall), and 300 (frat and foreign exchange). Granted the money you make and spend on SL is of gross proportions, and you can purchase Brownie Points (with real green bucks) for higher end things. There is even a boyfriend...

Okay, so I know it has been awhile--a long while--since I posted anything. There are various reasons for that, but none-the-less. . . Yesterday was the Virginia gubernatorial election,, and I worked the polls. Working the polls was fun, and enlightening. Yet, it also had it's downside. The downside I might talk about somewhere else, but the amusing points were rather amusing. I currently live in small town America, a place I am not comfortable in, and things like election day remind you of some of the more amusing points of life in these parts. Voting places are in schools, churches, and firehouses. These spots are nothing too unusual; except when you listen to the talk of the workers. It seems that everyone wants a poll at a firehouse because you have a kitchen. Yup. You know you are in the country when folks look forward to working a poll at a firehouse so they can cook up butter beans and pots of chili all day. When I took my break and came out to the little pokey to...