Moo?

Last night I ended up going to a surprise concert with the bartender. The concert wasn't a surprise, me going was. Our friend Hellbilly had been at Guns N Roses the night before and wasn't up to concerts two nights in a row, so he gave me his ticket. The Matches opened for +44.

We got there in time for the tail end of The Matches' set. Neither of us are really Matches fans, what with their girl pants and boring songs and their emo, emo eyeliner. We found a new reason not to like them at the show. Halfway through one of their songs, a guy walked up to the microphone and pulled out a triangle. The bartender looked at me. I looked around for cows. I wondered if perhaps it was dinnertime. The bartender scowled. Because, come on, it's a rock band. How are you supposed to even hear the triangle? It's impossible. And if it were possible we would know, because the guy was really playing the hell out of the thing. As if it were a pinata, or an effigy of someone they dislike. It was way to much effort for something that was completely drowned out by the guitars. They should have gone for some cowbell.

+44 is the current band of former Blink-182 members Mark Hoppus (bass) and Travis Barker (drums). Apparently they have a thing for naming their bands with a one syllable word and then a number. They're, eh, alright. Listenable. The best part of the show was Travis Barker. Travis would have been the best part of the show anyway, because he's a frikkin amazing drummer. But a few weeks ago he broke his hand, and so played their entire set last night with only one arm all Def Leppard-like. Except that he actually has two arms and was holding the broken one up behind his head the whole time like he was at a rodeo. Or maybe fencing because he had a drumstick in his other hand. But way more spastic than that, so yeah, like a rodeo. I was right the first time. Either way it was awesome.

A good time was had by all.

Or Possibly Ravens Heaven

H-Town: I have made a grave error in the letter I am mailing to you
me: um, ok
H-Town: i made the comment "I would've sent you a Kevin mack card, but I fumbled it on the way into the packing box" My brother says I blasphemed Mack, it was BYNER who did that
H-Town: i knew it was one of those two, but forgot which
me: ah yes, you meant ernest byner there
H-Town: so, i'm going to cleveand browns hell
me: that's ok, cleveland browns hell might be the same as bengals heaven
H-Town: which might be nice,
me: actually no, it's probably steelers heaven. you're screwed

Are You Ready to Ruin Some Football?

Is it just me, or does Monday Night Football blow this year? I have seen I think maybe one game that was worthy of the three hours I devoted to it. And I may have just dreamed that one. Last night's turnover festival was almost comedic, if it weren't for Jerramy Stevens' unwillingness to finish running his routes, which just made me angry. And can Joe Theismann and Tony Kornheiser possibly bicker any more? I swear, Kornheiser contradicts everything Theismann has to say just because he doesn't like him.

Suck My Balls and Assorted Other Christmas Stories

A brief recap of my various goings on:

1. Melle dyed my hair green and red on Friday. I have no idea how I finally talked her into that, as she kept telling me it was cheesy. Also she is a big scrooge. It looks awesomely festive, but every time I wash my hair, my hands end up looking like I've slain a muppet.

2. I am somewhat known for the wearing of inappropriate t-shirts, because I think it is hilarious. Some of my selections include "You say tomato, I say fuck you", "Masturbation: My anti-drug" and "I taught your boyfriend that thing you like". I hadn't really realized how much my shirts had become my trade mark until I walked into the salon on day one of The 40 Days of Christmas wearing a "Joy To The World" sweatshirt I had cross-stitched myself. John stared at me reading my shirt for a long time before finally saying, "Oh. That's it? Because you know how you have that shirt that says 'swallows'? I thought there was a trick to it, like instead of saying 'Joy to the World' it was going to say 'Joy to you sucking my balls' or something."

3. After I left the salon, I went down to the bar where I started wishing everyone a Merry Christmas which earned me many confused looks, two hugs and a mint from IHop. I decided to call JoE, the inventor of the 40 Days. "Happy 40 Days!" he answered.

"Happy 40 Days!" I said. "I'm sitting here in the bar in my Joy To The World sweatshirt and ornament earrings."

"Haha! Is that why you called?"

"Of course that's why I called. That and to tell you that everyone thinks I am batshit insane."

"They just don't understand. Listen, I'd love to talk to you, but I have to let you go. We're in the middle of watching 'It's a Wonderful Life'."

Ah, sweet sweet vindication.

4. It is almost as much fun watching the humbug bartender lug my Christmas decorations up and down the stairs than it is actually decorating. He had no objection to my putting little wreaths around his candle sticks in the dining room, but he thinks the festive red couch cover is a tad excessive. I also found a stuffed teddy bear and a snowman in with my linens. "Kristen, here's a teddy bear for you and [bartender], you get a snowman."

"I don't want a snowman," he complained as I handed it to him .

"Too bad! Hug the snowman." He did. I can't believe that actually worked.

5. I am not, NOT a Barenaked Ladies fan. Not that their lyrics aren't clever, but that folksy plain ass sound to their music drives me up a wall. Having said that, if you're into Christmas music and looking for something different, I strongly recommend their Christmas album, Barenaked for the Holidays. It's refreshingly different, including a song about disgruntled elves that try to start a union, a round of "Jingle bells, Batman smells" and a remake of Deck the Halls where the lyrics have been replaced by them repeating "Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young" over and over again.

6. Buckeye football rules. Browns football, not so much.

Tis The Season For Giving

Amberance: i need to think of what i want to engrave on [the bartender’s] ipod
H-Town: oh man, the engraving has to be something classic
H-Town: like "I farted"
H-Town: or "This iPod fits in my ass"
H-Town: all are timeless phrases of joy and love
Amberance: that's awesome. i was totally going to write something all mushy, "BFF" or something but you're totally right
Amberance: "I like poo"
Amberance:"To [the bartender]: I shat this iPod for you. Love, Amber"
Amberance: "Warning: ipod not intended for use in masturbation"
Amberance: actually that's not even true, the one I'm getting him plays videos
H-Town: hahaha
H-Town: "Please Wipe me Off When Finished"
Amberance: I'll wrap it with a box of kleenex
Amberance: and some lube
H-Town: and a six pack

The 40 Days of Christmas

Merry Christmas everyone!

What's that you say?

Why no, I don't think it's a little early. Yes, I know it isn't even Thanksgiving yet. It's The 40 Days of Christmas today. See, back in the day, JoE and Phil, my fellow Christmas enthusiasts, created The 40 Days of Christmas to celebrate their love for Christmas and everything it stands for. Notice that it is The 40 Days OF Christmas and not the 40 days TO Christmas. It's not a countdown. Every day, from November 16th until December 25th, is Christmas. If you're as big of a Christmas spazz as me, it's actually 41 days, because I always tack Boxing Day onto the end of that period.

I'm so excited. I've had a hard time this year waiting for it to be Christmas. On Halloween night, I stopped by Target on my way home for who knows what reason and ended up spend over two hours in there walking through their already set up aisles of Christmas decorations. I also bought a new Christmas CD that day. Because, you know, clearly 30 Christmas CDs are not even close to enough.

Yesterday was the slowest day ever in the history of time. I thought the day before The 40 Days of Christmas was never going to end. I was biting my lip waiting for the elevator after work, when a woman who work for the building came out of her office laden with three giant shopping bags. One of them was emitting a shimmery magical sound and my face lit up like a Christmas tree (har, har). "I hear jingle bells!" I announced. That's how excited I was - I deliberately started a conversation with a total stranger. She grinned at me sheepishly. I think she was expecting to get made fun of for running around with Christmas items in the middle of November. So I set her at ease and explained to her about The 40 Days of Christmas, and my nine Christmas trees and nativity collection and Santa collection and 30 Christmas CDs. She told me that the building was putting it's decorations up the day after Thanksgiving and that there would be musicians in our lobby every Thursday serenading us with Christmas tunes. "Oh my God, Christmas songs every Thursday? Carolers? Will there be carolers? CAN I SING WITH THEM?" I was practically screaming this. By now we were in the middle of a busy street walking to the trains.

"I don't know if there are carolers. You know like when we had the string quartets serenading us for a while? Like that. But if there are carolers, just go ahead and start singing with them if you want."

"I will so be singing with them! I want to go caroling! Maybe we can carol in the building, like go to people's offices. That would be so cool. Will you carol with me?" By now the girl who thought she was way ahead of everyone on Christmas joy could not get away from me fast enough. No one out Christmases me. No one.

I'm not sure how well The 40 Days are going to go on the homefront this year. The bartender's birthday is Christmas Eve, so his birthday has always been overshadowed by Christmas. Because of this he's not so much a fan of my Christmas cheer. Hopefully I can distract him with cookies and he won't kill me.

Guilty or Innocent, This Is In Poor Taste

O.J. to Discuss Killings in Book

Conspiracy?

The bartender finds it very suspicious that there was a business card for a tire shop down the street stuck in my windshield the day my tires were slashed.

Bunch of Savages In This Town

So I've recently found out that we are in the midst of National Blog Posting Month, or NaBloPoMo (I will not be calling it that because, dude. Come on.). I have, up til now, not participated in this, but I had a very good reason. I was busy. Busy dealing with the fallout of cockbreath assfaces who decided to do some vandalizin' last week.

I headed to my car on Wednesday morning, all ready to drive my lazy ass to the train station so I could go to work, only to find when I got to it that it seemed to be lacking something. Such as air in the tires. When last I'd left it, there had been a full supply of air in all the tires, so this seemed strange. It also went a long way to explaining the cop sitting in his car on the corner of my street, and the knocking on my door I had heard at 5:30 that morning, which I originally thought I dreamed, but was actually the cop. As it turns out, all four of my tires had been slashed, the driver's side had been horribly disfigured by someone's key, and six other cars suffered similar fates due to, I imagine, some damn kids "having fun".

AAA, bless them, came and took my car away on a flat bed truck so that I could be privileged to spend over $500 on some new ones, and later the insurance company took some pictures of the paint damage and estimated that that would cost something in excess of $1,100.

Operation Shrink the Fat Girl took a break for the day as I managed to consume 3 tacos, a small cheese sticks and small Hawaiian Punch from White Castle, a chocolate chocolate chip cookie and a small root beer courtesy of my friend Manny, a full slab of ribs, 4 slices of pizza, a coke, a small salad, two pieces of bread, an order of spaghetti and meatballs and three hard ciders all in the course of one afternoon.

Everyone except for the cop wanted to know who it was I had pissed off. I found this question curious. I don't have the kind of friends that I expect to slash my tires when I anger them. Who are these people hanging around with that this is their first thought?

At any rate that has been the focus of the last week, but I promise that from here on out there will be a blog post for each remaining day of National Blog Posting Month, even if it's crap.

Thanks, I Think

Parent Company Accountant: What's for lunch today?
Me: A glass of water.
PCA: That's it? Are you trying to starve yourself?
Me: Yes.
PCA: You know what you need? (holds up a McDonald's bag) A McRib!
Me: I haven't had a sandwich from McDonald's in 20 years.
PCA: Twenty years? Woah. Are you against trans-fats or something?
Me: I'm against foods that taste like my ass.
PCA: Haha. Hmm. Well your ass tastes pretty good at McRib time.