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“My Baby Likes Vampires and I’m OK With It”

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I’m watching Lindsay and her sister Emily watch HBO’s “True Blood” and it is the saddest/most adorable thing I’ve ever witnessed, because I think this show is ridiculously bad, but I also think Lindsay is ridiculously cute. Apparently, I don’t have my finger on the pulse of what young, attractive 20-something women want to watch on TV. If you had told me that this hunk of corn-laced poo would be popular, I would have called you liar. Vampires & werewolves in a Louisiana swamp…AND there are love stories! Holy Jumpin’ Jesus! “Stop drillin’, we’ve hit oil!” I guess lighting can strike twice. Remember how people made fun of Star Trek fans? Those people just believed in space travel; not blood sucking vampires and their issues with monogamy, the dark lords of the underworld, and how difficult it is to find a nice blood type to drink.

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Wanna hear how Jay got started in Comedy?

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 “I Got Tired of Chasing My Dreams. So I Asked Them Where They’re Headed, and I’ll Catch Up With Them Later” – Mitch Headberg

Lindsay thinks that people want to hear stories about my stand-up comedy career. I highly doubt that anyone is anticipating my “Almost Nowhere Near Famous” type of road stories, but that does not prevent my ego from happily retelling (probably lying and embellishing quite a bit) every single story that has not been erased from the years of alcohol and pot abuse. I’m proud to say that I remember most things nowadays, since I only partake in alcohol and drugs on the major holidays, like a good American….

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Standard

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What is WITH former comedians being obsessed with taking pictures of themselves pretending to be gay or overly effeminate?

I want answers*, people.

This is my cute boyfriend eating dinner that he made for me while I was slaving away at my Corporate Professional Position and going to school.

Dinner was fabulous.  Homeboy can cook.  I don’t understand the picture, though.

After he pulled this crap I told him to get his ass back in the kitchen where he **belonged.

Love and kisses and healthy relationships,

Linds

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*The comments section is where you can tell me what the deal is with this picture-taking phenomenon.  Please help me understand.  

**You know I have nothing against gay people, I just don’t want to be dating one.  Also, I’m not implying that gay men should cook.  ALL men should cook.  Calm down. 

Jay is Better Than You

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I know I’m a little late to the dance on this, but I just got an iPhone and I am pleased as punch for allowing myself to buy such an expensive, God-like piece of machinery (Yes, I’d put $50 that Jesus has an iPhone. He looks like he’s a Mac guy, doesn’t he?). I have never been on the breaking edge of any trend. It’s just something I don’t put importance on, mainly due to lacking finances. And, I’m a luddite. I don’t fear technology; I just find technology can sometimes interfere with human interaction. But now I know better. Now I have no problem ignoring my fellow human travelers, because OMG…I have an iPhone and that makes me a VIP!

I remember softly and quietly hating people that had iPhones. They were the people I wanted to be. They had fancy, expensive phones that made them “cool” or “successful” or “employed.” I hated the fact that I could not find a restaurant or bar with my phone, but the douche next to me in tight jeans and a Ramones t-shirt can? That’s not right. I grew up in a white, middle class home in South Carolina. I don’t want to split hairs here, but technically an iPhone is my birthright. Like Robin Hood returning home after the crusades, I have claimed what is rightfully mine. I love you iPhone. “You know it’s true, everything I do, I do it for you.” Remember that crappy song from Bryan Adams from the Robin Hood movie with Kevin Costner? I do. I just looked it up on my iPhone!

And yes, I am already one of “those” people that say, “My iPhone,” instead of saying the lesser, more poor phrase of, “My cell phone.” They sell cell phones in boxes with prepaid minutes on them at Wal-Mart. I do not have a cell phone. I have an iPhone. It cost $200. Yeah, I just price dropped to let you know I paid too much for it. I’m fine with it. No wonder nerds love these darn things, because you feel like such a MAN carrying around of these in your pocket. It’s like having an extra d*ck. I swear to god, I bet this thing has a Lumberjack App.

It’s only my second day with my iPhone, but I can already feel the warmth that its embrace is bringing to my life. I’ve started waving to other iPhone owners. Just a slight two-finger salute to let them know I think they’re a special, intelligent person that is worthy of my company. However, this does not happen frequently due to the dramatic drop in eye contact I’ve been making with the general public, but when it does…oh, it’s a magical bond.

Having an iPhone reminds me of the time I traveled to Africa. I was in Rwanda and it was a life-changing event. It really shook me to my core and I questioned things about life that I had never thought of. “How do people live like this?” or “How do they find joy?” And when I look into the faces of the poor, malnourished, severely obese, iPhone-less white trash of the upstate of South Carolina, I just can’t help but wonder, “how DO they find joy without an iPhone?” Nice try redneck, but your Blackberry isn’t even remotely close to how cool my iPhone is. And you sorry son of a bitch with the Bluetooth in your ear…I know that’s not connected to an iPhone. iPhone people wouldn’t be caught dead wearing a Bluetooth. Not even while driving.

Ok, in closing I’d just like to thank Steve Jobs or whomever it was that created my Golden Calf electronic device. You are a great man. Much like weight loss, drugs, and a girlfriend this damn iPhone has really given me the confidence to be a winner. I’m serious. I think I can do anything. I hope there is an Anything App; it’d make it easier. But, just know people who are not iPhone owners, you’re less than me. You are the poor kids at the boarding school. The farm hand in the big city. I bet some Droid users haven’t even heard of the band Radiohead! Oh, the nerve of some people. Ok, I hope all my iPhone friends have an awesome, easy living; user-friendly iPhone type of day.

Jay

Stick a Fork in It

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Sunday nights can mean lots of things for lots of people.  Some families spend them together preparing for the week.  Workaholics spend a few hours on their laptop/iPad/Blackberry/Droid/desktop (really?)/VM/remote server/VPN/iPhone (okay, enough) getting a head start on the work week.  Moms do laundry; kids in college recover from a weekend of binge-drinking and sleep deprivation.  I drink copious amounts of boxed wine and cook unhealthy food while listening to stories about Jay growing up as a fat kid.

Last night was no different, and I have NO CLUE what we were talking about when he said “Wait, have I never told you the story about when I got hung by my underwear from a tree at camp?”

You have my attention….

Um, no, darling, you have not.

This, friends, was my entertainment during dinner last night.  At one point in the story I demanded violently that Jay stop talking while I turned on my computer and took notes.

Yep, notes.  It was really good.  I didn’t want to forget anything due to the copious amounts of wine I may or may not have been drinking.  It’s really lucky that, unlike those college kids, I know when enough is enough on the night before a new week of work and school starts.  Well, it would be lucky, if that were the case (sorry, Mama).

Ok, let’s travel back to 8th grade.  Jay was still very fat and had extremely low self-esteem.  The problem was, he had a comic’s brain and a fat boy body – a combination that tended to get him into trouble.  He went to camp for one month and one evening on some sort of a walk/hike/sleepoutsideordeal he was getting made fun of by the camp counselor and his fellow campers for being fat, doughy, pale, mildly effeminate, having massive breasts, etc.

He is none of those things now.

Um, wait, the COUNSELOR was making fun of him?  I didn’t say anything and let him continue.

“I snapped and said SHUT THE F*CK UP (sorry, Daddy) and stuck a FORK in his leg.  Rightly pissed, the counselor assisted in instructing the campers in giving me a massive wedgie that borderlined on atomic, and hung me by my underwear by a tree stub where I hung for about two hours until my Fruit of the Looms snapped and the tree branch slid into my back and gashed up my spine until I hit the ground.  I had to walk all the way back to camp alone, defeated.”

“I feel two feet.  On my ass.  With a huge slit up my spine.”

Now, at this point I would like you to envision a slightly chubby, slightly sunburned blonde girl nearly vomiting with laughter while trying to continue inhaling penne with tomato cream sauce and herbs (I’ll teach you how to make that soon, promise), type furiously, and drink wine while not falling off the couch or spilling anything into her work-issued computer.

I am beautiful and poised, always.

As we continued down Memory Lane I discovered that Jay didn’t report the incident because he felt that he was to blame since stabbed the counselor in the leg with a FORK.  I’m all for justice and punishment concerning anger management issues, but WHY was a counselor making fun of a 13 year old fat kid?  His name was Dan, apparently.  I hope Dan is fat and mocked now.  I also pondered the difference between girls and boys at that age – girls would have RUN to tattle on the counselor, the campers, the squirrels in the vicinity who didn’t report the incident sooner – ANYONE.  Boys operate a little differently.

Even today I feel bad for that fat kid dangling two feet in the air by his undies.  He was really cute in an innocent….asexual way – I’ve seen pictures.  Luckily, Jay is skinny now and can blame me for any and all weight gain incurred, because we have a relationship of mutual respect in which he requests something healthy and light for dinner and I remind him that 1. I’m cooking, 2. Bad food tastes better, 3. I bought the ingredients and 4. His opinion matters very little to me and will he please take out the trash since he’s whining?

He’s a lucky man.  I heart him for putting up with my crap.

On a side note, I went and ate dinner Friday night at the restaurant where Jay works.  His coworker/friend/attractive other server took one look at me and said “is that the crazy girl from the blog?”

Yep, in the flesh.

Happy Monday, everyone!

Lindsay