I’M BAAAAACCCCCK!
Your prayers have been answered, my pretties.
I’m Boyfriendless Again!
Well, there goes a huge chunk of blogging material . . .
What happened? Bea Arthur, that’s what happened. That’s right. Bea. Fucking. Arthur. The (ex) Boyfriend is a huge fan of Bea Arthur. He’d deny it if you called him up right now and asked, “Dude, Bea Arthur?” But yes, he loves him some Bea! I discovered this little-known fact when I questioned why Maggiano’s would display an autographed black & white photo of the Golden Girls star on its wall of fame. The (ex) Boyfriend rushed to Bea’s defense, vehemently arguing that Ms. Arthur was a “big star.” Yet, the only other show/movie/infomercial he could recall Bea Arthur being in was Maude, a show from the 1970s. This only proved my point: he is Bea Arthur’s Number One Fan! So the relationship ended.
John Currin’s “Bea Arthur Naked”
*EDIT* Funniest Comment On This Blog I’ve Received So Far:
I’m glad you’re back but…..Wait. You’re telling me you broke up with your boyfriend just because he said some chick WAS actually famous and you think he’s her #1 fan? So what? He’s with YOU. I’m sorry to say but that IS one of the dumbest excuses I’ve heard for breaking up with a guy. Or were you kinda fishing for one? If you were planning to break up anyway, than I don’t mind. But if you really did over that, than my goodness.
Posted 5/5/2005 at 3:09 PM by Xellogadis_Kon – delete – block user
BWHAHAHAHAHAHA! This comment made me laugh so hard for such a long time. Seriously, now my abs hurt and there are tears streaming down my cheeks. For the record: our relationship didn’t really end because I was jealous of his creepy love of Bea Arthur. That would be that joke thing. You know, the part where I was just kidding?
Bea Arthur was only one of many reasons why we broke up. *smirk*
TIP: Don’t pick your nose after you’ve eaten hot wings.
Spermophobia
As part of the ‘Stuff I Hate’ section, I was planning to rant about a germophobic secretary in my office who always seems to be in the bathroom whenever I need to “do some serious thinking.” This makes me mad because I like to have these “serious thoughts” in private. Usually, I sit patiently, waiting for the offending culprit to leave me and my thoughts in peace. This particular secretary, however, spends an inordinate amount of time washing her hands or brushing her teeth. Rude, isn’t it, for her to draw out her hygienic rituals like that when all these thoughts of mine are bottled up inside waiting to be released?
So I was going to write about this (I guess I already did), but then I wondered if “germophobic” was the proper term to describe someone who is afraid of germs. So I looked it up. There is no such thing as germophobia. I totally made up that word. The fear of germs is verminophobia, spermatophobia or spermophobia. Spermophobia?
Surely you are thinking what I was thinking, and according to some not-so credible websites, spermophobia refers to the fear of germs and the fear of sperm. This cannot be true. Sperm and germ may rhyme, but they are not synonymous. I suppose one can have germy sperm, but not all sperm has germs. In fact, all the men I’ve dated swore that sperm is very healthy and induces weight loss in women when consumed orally on a daily basis. And I believe them because they have no reason to make something like that up.
So That’s What Avril Was Talkin’ About
Is anyone else disturbed by the fact that Friendly’s is advertising a new sundae called Happy Ending? How many lonely middle-aged men do you think have gone to Friendly’s and ordered a Happy Ending, only to be disappointed when they were given three scoops of vanilla ice cream with hot fudge and a cherry on top?
BOOBLESS
I am horrible with numbers. I can’t do math, but I have difficulty with numbers in general. I even have trouble remembering my own phone number. I’m not dumb, so there must be a reason I’m mathematically challenged. Here’s the best theory I’ve come up with so far:
When I was in the sixth grade, I was informed by my teacher, Mr. Mirra, that I had been selected to be in the “gifted” math class. Every Friday, while the rest of my classmates conducted “normal” math class, I met with the gifted math teacher and four other gifted students from other classes. As it was explained to me then, the purpose of this class was to provide greater challenges than the regular math class could offer.
In reality, the five of us spent every Friday session goofing off and doing things like figuring out what numbers to type in the calculator so when you turned it upside down, the numbers spelled out “BOOBLESS” (55378008, in case you were wondering). My theory is that while I was spelling boobless on my calculator, Mr. Mirra was teaching the “regular” math kids the Most Critical, Fundamental Mathematical Principle That is The Key to Understanding All That Is Math.
And I missed it.
Actually, now that I’ve spent time reflecting on what I did during those gifted math classes, I am beginning to wonder if “gifted” was a euphemism for “special.”
That boobless thing still cracks me up, though.
In related news, Word does not recognize ‘boobless.’ Clearly the Word dictionary was written by a man.
My porn name is Asslee Bendover. Lame!
Stuff I Hate
11. People who leave boogers on documents they give me. You’d be surprised how many of my clients have done this. I’m pretty sure they’re boogers. Sort of yellowish crusty marks. It isn’t difficult to deboogify a document – just photocopy it! (Not that I speak from direct experience, but this trick also works well for Starbucks coffee stains).
12. People who don’t leave voice mail messages. You know I’m screening my calls, you know I can see your number, you know I know you called. So why not tell me WHY you called?
13. Salespeople in clothing stores. Yes, I’m fine. Are you really interested in how I’m doing? No, I don’t need help finding my size. No, I’m not looking for anything special, just browsing. No, I do not want to save 10% by opening up a store credit account.
14. The “Shoot the Bug to Win a Free iPod!” banner ad that is sometimes displayed on Xanga. Usually, I can mentally block out banner ads, but this one has little cockroaches crawling around on it. I HATE cockroaches! They are the vilest creatures ever. And when that banner ad pops up, out of the corner of my eye I think I see a cockroach crawling on my computer screen. It gets me every time. The ad does NOT make me want to win a free iPod. It makes me want to douse Xanga with Raid.
15. Any appetizer or hors d’oeuvre that has the word “balls” in it. I’m not a vegetarian, but one of my food rules is NO CUTE ANIMALS ALLOWED. This would include dogs, cats, deer, baby cows (baby anything, really) and sheep. Now you can add to my list any food item ending with the word “balls.” Like lamb balls. I know they aren’t lamb testicles (or are they?), but anything with the word “balls” in it should be outlawed.
16. Radio stations play that Manic Monday on days other than Mondays or Friday I’m in Love on days other than Fridays.
17. News anchors who make really bad puns.
18. That no matter what I eat, or how careful I am, some portion of my food always ends up falling in my cleavage.
Reason Number 423 that I’m Going Straight to Hell:
If the suggestion that the Virgin Mary took it up the ass weren’t blasphemous enough, I’m not even wearing a bra in this photo! Ha! Ha! I’m so going to hell! Sadly, shortly after I purchased this gem, T-Shirt Hell announced that they were discontinuing all the t-shirts in the “Worse Than Hell” section of its website. According to the “press release,” the company took this action because some people were “needlessly hurt and upset” by the Worse Than Hell t-shirts. T-Shirt Hell, you disappoint me so! Can someone explain to me how it was decided that the t-shirts the company is willing to sell are less offensive than those the company are not willing to sell? Do your part to promote the wearing of offensive t-shirts without a bra by emailing T-Shirt Hell and demanding that they bring back Worse Than Hell. Do it. Do it now.
My new favorite word, coined by MamaDred (her blog is where I first saw it, at least): XANGSTA!
Damn, it feels good to be a Xangsta.
Cooter on Marriage
“Marriage ain’t all that if it’s not with the right person. I’d rather be single than be in a ho-hum marriage. For example, my new 55″ is better than most women – (1) it only speaks when i want it to, (2) it will never get fat, (3) it doesn’t need new clothes and shoes all the time, (4) it does what I say and when I say, (5) it looks great in the light and the dark, (6) no monthly visits from Aunt Flow, and most of all, (7) I am very skilled at turning it on (only takes a push of a button, and I don’t need foreplay).”
From Jordansmorgasborden: The Funniest Niece on the Planet
Jordan: Can I see the Stepford Wives?
Mom: No.
Jordan: Why?
Mom: Because it is not appropriate for children.
Jordan: But it is PG-13, so it is probably just violence, and I see that on TV.
Mom: No, I think there may be some sexual situations.
Jordan: I’ve seen people making out on TV too. (in Jordan language, that means kissing)
Mom: But there could be naked people.
Jordan: Oh, I don’t want to look at naked people. (pause) Well, sometimes I do. (pause) I do like to look at myself naked.
* * *
While listening to Fleetwood Mac’s Second Hand News . . .
Heidi: (singing along) Won’t you lay me down in the tall grass, and let me do my stuff . . .
Jordan: Eww, gross.
Heidi: What?
Jordan: Lay me down and let me do my stuff? That’s gross.
Heidi: What do you think he means?
Jordan: He’s going to the bathroom. Let me do my stuff means “let me pee
and poop in peace.” That’s why he said tall grass and not short grass.
* * *
Because of a convicted pedophile living on her street, Jordan is not allowed to play outside by herself. Heidi was sitting on her front porch while Jordan and her friend climbed the tree across the street. The kids were whispering about how they thought the “bad guy” on their street must be a murderer.
Heidi: You guys don’t need to worry about those things. You are safe.
Jordan’s friend: How can your Mom hear us?
Jordan: She can hear everything. She has ears like a reptile.
* * *
Jordan: Why are you turning on the air conditioning?
Heidi: Because I’m hot, hot, super hot. And I don’t mean just that I’m sexy.
Jordan: (rolling her eyes) Mom, if you were, you’d have a date already.
* * *
Jordan: So this boy at school asked this boy Connor if he liked me, and Connor said “No way,” but he was smiling when he said it, so I know he likes me. Man, does he have a major crush on me!
* * *
Jordan: I have some friends that are boys, but I don’t really like them. Girls are a lot better.
Heidi: Boys can be good friends too.
Jordan: Yeah, but girls are better.
Heidi: Why?
Jordan: Because you can talk to them about stuff that boys don’t understand.
Heidi: Like what?
Jordan: You know, like periods and stuff.
Heidi: Are you and your friends wondering and talking about periods?
Jordan: No, but if I wanted to talk about periods, boys wouldn’t get it.
* * *
Mom: The United States is the fattest country in the world. And Virginia is the fattest state in the U.S.
Jordan: That’s because everyone here loves the all-you-can-eat buffets.
News of the Odd
1. I opened up a can of Diet Sprite Zero. That’s not the really odd part, though. The can made the “swoosh” noise when I opened it, so I know it was a fresh, unopened can. Yet, it was half-empty (or half-full, depending on how you look at things). The outside of the can was cold, but dry. There was no explanation for why it wasn’t full. I still drank it. If I get sick and die, someone tell my parents to sue Sprite.
2. At work, I opened a can of Coke. It also made the “swoosh” noise when I opened it. This time the can was full, but the Coke was flat. It was cold, but the soda tasted like the can had been opened for weeks. I still drank it. If I get sick and die, someone tell my parents to sue Coke.
3. There is a character in a recently-published mystery novel that has my name. My exact FULL name. Thing is, my name is very uncommon. It isn’t the kind of name that some writer would just pull out of his or her ass. I was so freaked out about this that I sent an email to the author to find out why he’s so obsessed with me. He claims that he got the name from someone he met at a party once. Yeah whatever, stalker! I only forgive him for using me without permission because my namesake in the novel is the prime suspect in the disappearance of a hooker. Oooh, I hope I did it!
Stupidity @ Panera Bread
Cashier: Can I help you?
Me: I’d like a tuna sandwich on sourdough, plain, with lettuce and mayo. To go.
*cashier scans keyboard for what seems like an eternity*
Cashier (to his manager): Where do I find the sourdough button?
Manager: Right there (pointing).
Cashier (to me): What kind of bread would you like?
Me: Sourdough.
Cashier: Oh. Right.
*cashier scans keyboard again for what seems like an eternity*
Cashier: Okay. And you want that . . . plain?
Me: Yes. Nothing except for lettuce and mayo. To go, please.
*cashier scans keyboard again for what seems like an eternity*
Cashier: For here or to go?
Me: To go.
Cashier: That will be $5.24.
*Cashier runs my debit card*
Cashier: Oh wait, did you want a drink?
Me: No, thanks.
Cashier: I need your first name for the order.
Me: Danielle.
Cashier: Daniel?
Me: DaniELLE.
Cashier: Oh. Okay.
He hands me my receipt. Remarkably, the order is correct. Less remarkably, it shows my name as “Danial.”
Indisputable Evidence That Gary Gulman Wants Me to Have His
Hot, Cookie-Lovin’ Babies
If you recall from my last blog, posted only a mere six months ago, I gushed about Gary Gulman, the sexy comedian from Last Comic Standing. Now ladies, don’t be hatin’, but this hot hunk of man meat reads my blog. And if that doesn’t persuade you that Gary worships TheGoddess, check out this email he sent to me:
From gary@garygulman.com:
Hi Goddess!
Thanks for saying such nice things about me on your blog! It made my day. I’m coming to Virginia Beach and hopefully we can take a picture without the sweatpits. If you want an autographed picture send me your address and I’ll send one. Thanks again.
ALL MY BEST!
Gary Gulman
To the untrained eye, this email may seem rather innocuous. Au contraire, mon frere! You have to read in between the lines. For example:
He requested my address so he can stalk me. He probably wants to stake out my house, wait for me to leave, and then sneak in and smell my underwear.
He “causally” mentioned that he’s going to be performing in Virginia Beach. The comedy club in Virginia Beach is called The Funny Bone. Bone, people, bone. Really, can this be any more obvious?
He’s going to send me naked pictures of himself. How else can he take a picture without the sweatpits?
He wants me. He wants me bad. You know, sometimes being a Goddess is hard because I have an obligation to my millions of adoring fans, including the sweaty, sexy, comedic variety. I’m willing to make the sacrifice, though.
These Xangans Xangstas Made Me Snarf My Starbucks
Grande Non-Fat No Whip Mocha
Some of these are really old, but I haven’t posted since October!
“You cannot be invisible if you stink.” – Tallman
“For some reason this discussion reminds me of an I.Q. test I took in 7th grade. I got a perfect score, and the teacher announced to me joyfully, ‘SporadicCommenter, you have a 150 I.Q.! Congratulations!’ I quickly responded, ‘Honestly, how do you know? Maybe it’s higher than that. Clearly, if I got no questions wrong, then my intelligence exceeds the capacity of your little test to measure.’ Then she started to cry.” – SporadicCommenter
“Even Rene ‘Jimbo’ Descartes, the famous yet very dead French philosopher, would do some of his best thinking while in the shower, although the showers of 1640 left much to be desired, basically consisting of a stall with a guy holding a bucket over your head while making that “hissing” shower sound.” – middleageguy
“My mom made tater tots last night, along with fish sticks. The best part of being home? Asking my mom to make something or get something for dinner, and she does it; no questions asked. It’s awesome. I wanted fish sticks because they kick ass. I wanted tater tots so I could personally re-enact that scene from Napoleon Dynamite. So that’s what I did. I put about 6 or 7 tater tots in my pocket, then smashed ‘em up. After laughing like a jackass for a good 5 minutes, I realized it wasn’t as cool as I thought it would be…..it was actually really disgusting and a huge mess. My pants have a grease stain on them now, and I’m having trouble getting the last pieces of tot out of my pockets. Sigh. Such is life. When you’re a moron.” – Willy_Fisterbottom
“with very very few exceptions, i really only know about music i hear on the radio. not very hip of me, i know, but what the hell? who actually has time to ‘discover’ music? and if you do? it’s time to get a job, because your mom wants her basement back.” – rache
“Because it’s so miserable out today I decided not to go to class. We all have our vices. Mine is truancy. And pie. Truancy and pie. If we had pie in the house I’d go eat some. But we don’t so I’ll have to be satisfied with truancy.” – jessicass
“On a somewhat related note - is it just me, or do the Dutch really like the article ‘The’? I mean, THE Netherlands. THE Hague. Just plain old ‘Netherlands’ or ‘Hague’ wasn’t good enough? What, was there a run of fake Netherlands or Hagues and the locals wanted you to know that these, these were the originals? It’s not like you can just walk down a back alley in Shanghai and pick up counterfit Hagues. ‘Psst, ni hao ma, wanna buy blackmarket Coach bag?’ “Nah…you got any Hague?” No. Where was the confusion? Were they in danger of being only “A Netherlands” or “A Hague”? – blueyoohoo
“My mental image of God is slowly morphing into something that resembles Google because damn, it’s got all the answers.” – Mr_Grainger
“It’s a very sad day in the Madhousehold, kids. Sugar Daddy has discovered that as a result of his regular swimming regimen, he has developed the muscles in his upper body to the extent that he can no longer make flatulence noises with his armpit.” – madhousewife
“The smarter you are, the more stupid people you’re going to meet in a day.” – SealKitty
“I don’t know why we’re so cruel to our admin assistant, but we are. Maybe it’s because she’s such a good sport and doesn’t like change. Now, when you hear about people not liking change, you think that I would mean that they don’t like diversity in their life. When I say she doesn’t like change, I mean coins. Currency of the jangly kind.” – cerveza
“My new plan is to call Jen Aniston to ‘console’ her on her breakup with Brad and slowly show her my wonders. Maybe I will cook her something she likes to eat or make her a collage of me.” – paulereubens
“I understand that Scissors can beat Paper, and I get how Rock can beat Scissors, but there’s no fucking way Paper can beat Rock. Paper is supposed to magically ‘wrap around’ Rock, leaving it immobile? Why the hell can’t paper do this to scissors? Screw scissors, why can’t paper do this to people? Why aren’t sheets of college ruled notebook paper constantly suffocating students as they attempt to take notes in class? I’ll tell you why, because paper can’t beat anybody, a rock would tear that shit up in about 2 seconds. When I play rock/paper/scissors I always choose rock. Then when somebody claims to have beaten me with their paper I can punch them in the face with my already clenched fist and say, oh shit, I’m sorry I thought paper would protect you, you asshole.” – abulousfabby
“Paris Hilton launched a new perfume. Come on Paris. Spermicide is not perfume, sweetie.” – heyjulsiscoo
“If I have to use a public restroom at non-busy hours (like after 6 or on weekends in my office building), I have to open every stall to make sure that Harry Connick Jr. is not waiting to kill me.” – Nina_Williams
“I just returned from the bathroom. I had a god damn booger hanging on my god damn nose which is the biggest god damn part of my face. I had just talked to about 8 god damned people. Long god damned conversations about Miss Prisses senior pics and our planned trip to the boat tonight. No one commented on my different earrings. No one commented on the god damned booger hanging out of my god damned big nose. So either it hopped out of my nose on my way into the bathroom or they hate me.” – LonaMay
“It must be one hell of a dildo if it requires a layaway plan.” – SummerRains
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