Wednesday, November 25, 2009
I abandoned my typical not-getting-up-off-the-couch-Fat-Sunday plans to see The Blind Side (damn those motivational sports movies and their irritating ability to warm my otherwise cold, dead heart!!!) with my father. As we are chatting in his car, he casually slips in that he "double-dips" at the movies.
Lola: (looking at him suspiciously out of the corner of her eye) You do what now?
Lola's sister: (from the backseat) I double-dip my cucumbers.
Lola: (turns to her dad) You dip your popcorn into your soda or something?
Dad: No, I pay for one movie and see two or three.
Lola: (in disbelief) Wait- let me get this straight-you sneak into movies now?
Dad: (by way of explanation) No, movie prices are outrageous!
Lola: What do you mean, no? You're not paying for the movies. Essentially, you're stealing.
Dad: (laughing) I prefer to think of it as double-dipping.
Lola: (exasperated) So you've said. (shaking her head) All these years, I've looked up to you. My opinion of you has been forever changed.
At nearly 60 years of age, my dad carefully examines the newspaper and plots out his schedule, adapting methods that probably haven't been implemented since the Napoleonic wars, for the express purpose of sneaking into two or three movies. However, during one of these infamous "double-dipping" sessions, he came across a slight hitch in his plans.
When my dad merrily snuck into see A Christmas Carol, a satisfied smile on his bearded face, he looked around and noticed that there was something odd about the people around him. They were all wearing 3-d glasses, which they had gotten when they had PURCHASED a ticket. This left my dad in a quandary. He couldn't go back to the desk to request the aforementioned glasses, because then the theater folk would know that he circumvented their ticketing system.
So he did the only thing he could.
He snuck back out of the movie and walked across the hall to a giant blue bin with a sign that pleaded: "Please Return Your 3-D Glasses Here!". His eyes darted back and forth, making sure the coast was clear, and then he stuck his hand down the bin. He brandished the pair of glasses, placed them on his nose triumphantly, and then promptly smuggled himself back inside the theater.
And this, dear readers, is the man I am supposed to have received my moral values from.
Before I leave all of you for the Thanksgiving Holiday, I would like to give a very special shout-out to one of my readers. I received a wonderful surprise from one of you (you know who you are!) and I wanted to send lots of naughtiness, love, and flirtations glances your way because getting it in the mail yesterday brightened up this red-head's day! So I am sending you big, sloppy kisses.
Have a naughty day, fellow bloggers.
P. S. Has anyone else heard of using the words double-dipping in reference to sneaking into a movie? Or do we need to add this to the urban dictionary?
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Of course, this was before The-I-Thought-My-House-Was-Being-Ransacked-
It was about 4:30 am when I was startled out of a very delicious dream about David Tennant (whose glasses and crazy hair wearing, smart, sexy and slightly manic doctor is the essence of bangability in my book) by a crash outside of my bedroom. Bleary-eyed, and just a bit crazy at the edges, I dashed out of bed. My pulse was hammering in my ears as I flung the door open with a shriek. Still hazy, I grabbed the only weapon I had at my disposal, a rather rangy 10 year old wooden mop, and leapt into the living room.
It was quite unfortunate that my attacker happened to be my elderly neighbor, retrieving his hissing, spitting behemoth of a cat from my front porch who in its 4am frenzy had apparently knocked over a flower pot, a stool, and a pair of mischievous wind chimes. There was a brief shocking moment where we both froze and stood there staring at each other.
Me with my ragged, decrepit weapon and him with his seething, evil feline.
I think, but can't be quite sure, that there was a whispered, "Oh. My. Word." right before I turned tail and ran to the safety of my bedroom.
Had he been a real adversary, I totally would have housed him. Because honestly, I'm sure that there is nothing more intimidating to a kidnapper than a naked girl jumping around, screaming and stabbing the air violently with a mop.
Monday, November 9, 2009
Lola, I have come out of blog retirement to answer your followers’ burning questions. First of all, for this post, please do not use Kane. Kane is a character in the bible that didn’t get along with his brother. Abel was always hogging the bathroom and TV remote and stuff, so one day Kane was like, “The hell with this,” and stabs him in the face. I don’t want to be associated with aggro people like that. Now let me answer your readers’ questions, taken verbatim from your last post.
Q: Why are you so cool, wise, and otherwise outstanding?
A: Hey, sometimes miracles happen. Don’t question evolution when it is working properly.
Q: Can I be as cool as you?
A: It’s impossible. Your time and energy is better spent on attainable goals. See, I told you I was wise.
Q: Did Lola leave out some important information from her last post?
A: Yes, I’m glad you asked. Let me make an addendum to that.
I explained to Lola that guys have a classification system. Consciously or not, every girl gets a stamp saying “accepted” or “rejected” on their forehead with regards to whether they are bone-able or not. This is neither wrong nor right, it’s just the way life is- there is always going to be a pecking order. Some occasionally get the “epic fail” stamp; do not make eye contact with or speak to those people, unless you are feeling charitable that day. (By the way, some of the meaner or crazier things I say are just sarcastic jokes. If you needed this explanation you have no sense of humor.)
There are some very important exceptions, however, that must be noted.
1. Do not bone your friends’ girlfriends. This should go without saying. Also, do not bone your friends’ ex-girlfriends; if you are looking for some quick sex, have some virtue and find another chick that just wants to bone, there are plenty of them out there- for example, Lola Lakely of blogspot.com. The only way I could see this happening is if the two of you really had something and you talked the whole thing over with your friend to make sure he/she is cool with it.
2. Do not bone people from work. If you have already boned someone from work that you did not marry, you already know why.
3. Do not bone your sister. Think of how awkward it would be if you saw each other at a family gathering. Cousins are ok, though, as long as they are at least twice removed. I don’t have a sister, but I can imagine it would be quite the temptation, since anyone that shares even 1% of my DNA is clearly going to be amazingly good-looking.
4. Do not bone girls that are bitches. I can’t stand a bad attitude. Also, if a girl blows me off once or twice on plans to hang out, I stop talking to her. There are plenty of girls that will not act like this. Guys that have low self-esteem or guys that will do anything to get laid may accept this kind of behavior, but they are not real men.
Q: Once a person is in a category, do they stay in that category?
A: You can change categories, but you’d better get started on those stomach crunches. Also, do something about that odious personality. A good benchmark for a quality personality would be me. Clearly I have the best personality, ever. To be honest though, my surly personality only gets me accolades if people understand my dark humor and think it’s funny. So you can be a niche personality like me and serve a specific audience, or go mainstream like Lola; she is well-liked and gets free stuff regardless of where she goes.
Q: What are the criteria for the forehead stamps?
A: That’s entirely subjective. Some people have crappy taste, and some people are me. Which smoothly leads us right into this next question. Damn I’m good.
Q: Can a girl get laid no matter how fugly she is?
A: Sort of. If a fugly girl goes up to every guy offering them sex, playing the numbers game, she will eventually find someone that will bone her. I’m sure this is also true if gender roles are reversed. However, if a guy has standards/taste, he will not just bone anyone. If Starr Jones and/or Rosie O’Donnell offered me some hot lovin’, they wouldn’t be able to finish their proposal because I’d be booking it at fast as my legs could carry me. Then I would spray Lysol into my eyes and cover my body in Purell in a fruitless attempt to remove that image from my mind.
Lola, once you’ve let your readers ruminate for a few days on how smart and wise I am, I think you should break down the caste system for women choosing men and how they determine bonability. I mean, for those women that don’t have me as an option, since I am automatically #1 on every woman’s “who do I need to bone before I die” list. That’s right, Fabio and Matthew McConaughey, there’s a new king in town!
Wouldn’t you like to hear Lola’s opinion on the matter?
I often find myself wiping a tear off my cheek because of the brilliance, the sweetness, that lies within his profound thoughts. So fellow bloggers, what do you think?
P.S. Although he clearly does not approve of the moniker I have given him, I stubbornly refuse to change it. It continues to be a pitched battle that shakes the very foundation of our friendship. But hey, I like to keep things interesting.
Friday, November 6, 2009
Kane: I've never known you to be subconscious about stuff like this.
Lola: Well, that's cause I'm not used to losing my mind over a pair of glasses. Plus, I certainly don't want to be crazy, desperate girl who goes around molesting people.
Kane: Did you tell him you wanted a relationship? Or babies?
Lola: (gagging sound) Oh good God, no.
Kane: Then you're safe. Besides we're easy.
Lola: Men, you mean?
Kane: Yup. We put girls into two categories. (waits a beat) You're not going to ask me about the categories?
Lola: Well yes but I was just waiting for the inevitable 'you're a guy, you should know this stuff' insult that is usually thrown at me.
Kane: (ignores her) Anyway, the two categories you women fall into are Fuckable and Non- fuckable.
Lola: (laughing) Yeah, this is definitely going on my blog. (pause) Tell me more, sensei.
Kane: Actually, we should mark you with either a red or a black dot. Red means fuckable and black is for the non-fuckable population.
Lola: Does the mark have to be on our foreheads?
Lola: Then I guess I'm ok with that. (thinking) You should really come equipped to the bars with magic markers then.
Kane: Yeah, we should. You do realize that you women have the easy part in all of this. All you have to do is be there. We're the ones who need to convince you we're not psychos or dicks who only put girls in two categories.
Lola: So basically you're telling me molestation is not desperation.
Kane: Exactly. (pause) Wait... your parents don't read your blog, do they?
Lola: Naah, I cut off their subscriptions when it became increasingly apparent that their daughter has become an alcoholic sex fiend. (pause) Yaaay!
Hope you enjoyed this week's installment of Kane's Wonderful Words of Wisdom. Tune in next week when he discusses antidisestablishmentarianism. Take that blog spell check!
Have a naughty weekend, fellow bloggers.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Actually, I'm pretty sure I molested the Zombie. I blame the glasses. A pair of black wire-rimmed glasses is like kryptonite to me. I get that long, slow pull deep in my belly and every animalistic urge lurking in my subconscious goes on full alert. I don't know why. But I simply cannot be held responsible for my actions when a guy slips them on.
Zombie: I just got out of a relationship.
Lola: Oh, I'm sorry to hear that.
Zombie: (slips on glasses) So you know, I don't want you to get disappointed.
Lola: Who said anything about being disappointed? (sees glasses, starts to quiver) I was just thinking of a wild bout of hot, sweaty sex. (moves closer) And I'm talking dirty, naughty things would be involved. (lowers voice) Want to go for a walk?
I guess Robin Ho was in full form. And speaking of Robin Ho, without further ado, here are some pictures from All Hallows Eve:
Robin Ho & the Devi-Angel
My friend has a party every year on Halloween and it's so big and elaborate that him and his friends literally have to start the decorating process in September. We had a scream (ha-ha) walking through the gory chop-happy surgeon's room, the haunted library, the foggy cemetery, and the forest of fear.
Where I met some new friends...
So to recap this Halloween I kissed a sexy girl cop, sat on Stephen Hawking's lap to check out his laptop, and had a tryst with a Zombie in the forest of fear.
In other words, the night was a big success. How about all of you?
***Is this worthy of being an unsung hero, Trinity? I do hope so, because your blog post about me was just too lovely not to mention it and thank you again.***