Tag Archives: humor

Embarrassing Stories

29 Aug

I love that people feel like they can share anything with me. Usually I’m asked to critique poetry, lend an ear, offer an opinion or give honest advice, but my VERY favorite thing is when someone gives me the gift of an embarrassing story.

I know when one’s coming because the person always starts off, “Oh my God, I could never tell anyone else this, but…” and in my head I’m like YES, I should take a bathroom break and grab some popcorn because this is going to be a masterpiece. It usually is, and whether your pants split, you threw up on someone during oral sex or got caught pooping down the chimney of your ex-wife, I’ll never judge, so I understand why people turn to me.

I got permission to share one story from today. Grab a snack, people–this is good.

A girl I know went out on a first date with a guy she had a crush on for years. They went to school together for 12 years, but she was too shy to say anything to him because he was a popular jock and she hadn’t grown into her nose yet and was in the poetry club (been there, sister).

Recently, they began working for the same company. She was surprised when he remembered her and was motherfrigging thrilled a week later when he asked her on a date. She had a new dress to wear, the weather was nice and they went to dinner and had a few drinks and it was perfect blah blah blah.

It was as though she had won the nerdy, hopeless romantic high school kid jackpot, right?

So anyway, he drove her home after the best date ever and when he leaned in to kiss her…she farted.

She farted right when their lips touched, in a silent car, and not only did it sound like a balloon asking a question, but also managed to be the most putrid stench of all the stenches that have ever exited butts.

He laughed so hard through his nose that snot flew out, directly into her mouth. Then, she started laughing hard and farted again and while they both were laughing, she was so embarrassed that she decided to just get out and walk away.

She doesn’t expect to hear from him again, but you never know.

If you have a story that tops this, dear god, please share it. Otherwise, everyone, you’re welcome. Enjoy the rest of your day.

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Doin’ Da Butt

7 Aug

I was a shy, lonely child who had two imaginary friends, a mermaid named Adonna and a turtle named Turtle. They lived in the sewer. Every day during the summer, I would ride down our suburban street in my hot pink helmet on my little hot pink bike to the sewer drain and call down to them. I never actually saw them because it was dark in there, but we definitely chatted and sang songs (and don’t worry, you guys–when I finally made real friends, I helped Adonna and Turtle get back to the ocean. They’re wild and deserve to be free, after all).

When I got home from seeing them, I’d grab a snack and head to the basement to play school with stuffed animals or listen to music on my brother’s record player. I didn’t own many records, but I did have a few. One of best was “Mickey Mousercise,” which was basically Disney characters singing and doing aerobics for kids. It came with lyrics and silly moves you could do, such as the Tweedledee and Tweedledum example below.

 

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Another I enjoyed was a collection of songs for children. It included one song with the lyrics, “Nobody likes me, everybody hates me, guess I’ll go eat worms. Big fat juicy ones, itty bitty slimy ones, oh how they wiggle and squirm.” Appropriate for any awkward child to sing, no?

 

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Guess I’ll go eat worms…

 

As much as I loved mousercising and singing about being a loser, neither of those records took precedence over my ultimate favorite, the single “Da Butt” by EU. I’m not sure how I even acquired it, but once I did, that song was played over and over and the kid you see above was doin’ da butt until a state of exhaustion…or bath time, whichever came first.  It’s an amazing song AND they say the word “butt,” which was funny as shit because I was a kid.

Okay…maybe it’s still funny. Yeah, it’s funny. Butts are funny.

So anyway, I revisited the song today and it performed magic upon mine ears and hindquarters, just as it did back then. I needed to share, of course.

Now, go ahead and allow yourself to fall under the spell of “Da Butt.”

You’re welcome.

 

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Ode to a Stray Hair

31 Jul

At first I was like, “Is this my life now? Should I really publish a poem about a stray hair?” and then I remembered that I published a poem about a squeaky bra and also that this is my place to play with poesy and post photos and do what I please. So there.

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A stray chin hair after the storm

A stray chin hair after the storm

 

O, stray hair! An insult
to time, thou art most unwelcome
upon mine chin or stomach or ample bosom
or wherever you decide to pop up next.

You are at your worst when coarse,
dark in shade,
and when my boyfriend is first
to recognize your sneaky, hideous violation.

Be gone, darkling, I beg!
Dissolve into the forest dim,
for I have enough hair, already experience
plenty of awkwardness–

and need not your further assistance.

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Hot and Bothered

18 Jul

At 4 pm today, right when I get off work, it will be 98° with a heat index of 110°. Today is one of those days I fully regret not buying a house with central air conditioning. I know, I know–I shouldn’t be complaining, but I’m hot. Like, really hot. If you were inside my shirt or pants, you would understand.

Humidity and thick heat get me really worked up, people, and it isn’t even the good kind. As the temperature rises, I feel a pressure build inside of me that when at its zenith, may actually result in me screaming at and slapping everyone who tries to speak to me.

Also, it makes my hair frizzy and my body sweaty. Sure, cold water will keep me hydrated, but it doesn’t stop the sweating of my heaving, voluptuous bosom. I’m sweating at this very moment and wearing white today and I swear that if I bounced around and giggled unintelligently I could win all the spring break wet t-shirt contests right about now.

And my hindquarters? Just fucking forget about it. If my posterior portion’s climate equals that of a rain forest, you men must feel like you’re in the pits of hell with all that body hair. Seriously, your butts must be so uncomfortable with all that swamp ass. My respect goes out to you, fine sirs.

So anyway, instead of working today I found a few cool things on the internets that might help and I wish I had invented all of them so I could afford a house with central air. If you have more ideas, please feel free to comment and save the world from my T&A issues!

 

First of all, there’s this USB butt cooling cushion:

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and then there’s butt cooling cream that cyclists use:

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and ladies, there’s cooling cream for your boobs, too. Nursing women use it, but sweaty girls can too, and probably those dudes with man boobs:

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and finally,”My Breast Friend” cooling pads that go inside your bra:

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Lorie the Lesbian

11 Jun

Once upon a time there lived six lesbian artists in the pink townhouse down the street from me.

I was invited over for a birthday party, which also happened to be a clothing swap and a potluck of foods made only with beets because they were all on a beet diet.

It was a hot, humid day and their air conditioning and shower were both broken, so upon entering the house one was immediately slapped in the face by a putrid scent that I can only describe as “men’s locker room.” I wasn’t there to judge anyone for being stinky, though. I was there to celebrate a birthday and sweat while eating a beet cake.

The birthday girl, Lorie, wore a superman shirt, bike shorts and red sparkly pumps that matched the color of her hair.

For her birthday, she received a tandem bike, a hat and a painting of her own vagina. The painting was given to her by a roommate who had a mustache and wore thick glasses, yellow pants and rainbow suspenders. Now knowing what Lorie looked like under those bike shorts, I wished I had purchased her a gift certificate for a wax. Then again, all the ladies there were quite hairy in general and I, the hairless Sphynx of the room, was the outcast.

The only reason I was invited to the party was because she and my boyfriend at the time were great friends. There was a portrait of her that hung above our bed that she drew of herself, which I found quite odd. When we first moved in together I asked him to take it down, but he said I was being silly. “It’s just art,” he said.

About a month later, I found hidden, recent photos of her in lingerie. Apparently those were “just art,” too. Whatever they were, I ended up burning them at a beach bonfire and told him it was for “artistic purposes.” He didn’t find that very funny.

We broke up a couple of months later, I guess due to artistic differences, and soon I bought my own house.

Two years later, I was sitting on my front porch when the pair rode by my house on the tandem bike she got for her birthday. When they saw me they waved in unison and she dinged the little bike bell with wild abandon. I waved back sarcastically and spent the rest of the day with the below song in my head. I often wonder where she hung that painting of her own vagina.

 

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History of Taco Tuesday

4 Jun

In my new religion, today is an important day. It is both my duty and pleasure to share the history of this sacred holy day with the community (just imagine that Andrew of Shut Up Dad and I am at your front door and you answer and Andrew hands you an informational pamphlet and NO your passive aggressive huffing and puffing won’t get us to hurry…so listen up).

It began long ago on a Tuesday when the mists of light arose through the darkness to animate and bring purpose to the First Meeting of the First Man and First Woman at Chi Chi’s…many years prior to the Mexican restaurant’s fatal hepatitis A outbreak. As I recall, I had a birthday party there in 1993 which involved a little birthday song that rhymed “birthday” with “olé” and then they gave my fat ass some free fried ice cream and a sombrero that I still own. No one even gives out free sombreros anymore, it’s so disappointing.

I digress. Apologies.

So anyway, the First Man and First Woman went to Chi Chi’s. Unto them many tacos and margaritas were served, which assisted in joyous conversation and a fine First Meeting. Thus, the First Man and First Woman celebrated, for this was a day the food gods had made, and it was good.

The two felt a spiritual connection, one likely brought on by the warmth of the western wind…or maybe just the excess of margaritas…perhaps both. Regardless, it led them back to his place.

Shortly after they arrived, a Mayan drum song began to play out of nowhere and kissing stuff happened and soon even touching stuff happened, too. Even though the First Woman’s mother insisted that all women who sleep with men upon the First Meeting are dirty little hussies and trollops, the two spent the night together as one in bliss. This ignited an eternal fire–it’s light was the mind’s first awakening.

A wolf’s howl can be heard every Tuesday at 10:32 pm as a symbolic reminder of this magical occurrence.

In remembrance, we are called to worship on this spicy Sabbath day through taco and/or margarita consumption, writing poetry and making sweet, sweet love with a consenting partner (or hand) while playing the video below because of the intense passionate music mixed and wolf pictures.

Seriously, if nothing else, do it to the video/song. The sounds of your love-making will reverberate off the rooftops, I promise.

Anyway, have a happy, safe Taco Tuesday!

 

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La La’s Relationship Advice Column

22 May

Yesterday on Facebook I asked for people to submit questions to me about relationships. I’ve always secretly wanted an advice column in the newspaper and I thought this would give me a chance to try it out.

I am splitting this up into two posts, so don’t fret if your question is not answered below.

Here we go.

 

1. Why do I always have to brush my teeth before kissing my wife? 

Here’s the deal. Boys are stinky pretty much all the time and we women have to deal with it and that’s okay because we love you. So you’re walkin’ around stinkin’ it up like Pig-Pen from Charlie Brown while us gals smell like beautifulness and angel nectar because we never poop or sweat. It’s true, we don’t do either of those things. So, you have to brush your teeth before you kiss your wife because she has to smell your putridness all the time–should she really have to taste it, too?

 

2. Does the carpet always match the drapes?

When you think about it, if the carpet always matched the drapes, most women would have bald heads or mohawks. Some women would have pubic highlights that would end up looking like stripes. If this were the 70’s, we would all have afros. Actually, that would be really funny. So, in conclusion, the answer is no, the carpet doesn’t always match the drapes, but it would be funny if this were the 70’s and we all had afros. Haha, and oh my god, “disco balls” would play and active role in my sexual vocabulary.

 

3. Is it sweet or perverted that my husband signs his notes and cards to me: “Your Love Muscle”….

WELL, if nothing else, he’s a sneaky wordsmith because we don’t know if he’s referring to his heart or his penis. Very clever indeed, good sir. Is he a husband in love or a husband in lust? We’ll never know for certain, but I’m going to say it’s probably both and that he’s a sweet pervert, just to keep you on your toes.

 

4. My boyfriend doesn’t want to get busy as much as I do. He thinks a dozen or so times a week is fine, but that’s barely enough to get my motor running. What’s the best way to get him to perform his boyfriendly duties to my satisfaction?

I recently faced this same issue. My suggestion is that you dress up as things that guys like–perhaps a food item like chips, for example. Guys love chips. I personally chose to take a bath in whiskey and dress up as football running back Marshawn Lynch and this nearly tripled my weekly sexy time encounters. I yelled, “touchdown!” at the good part, too. He liked that.

 

5. How do I get my boyfriend to propose to me? We’ve talked about it and he says he has a plan, but it hasn’t happened yet!

There are a few simple things you can do that will get him on his knee in no time:

1. Do nice things to his manly bits. Tune his horn…if you know what I mean. Don’t make me say it.

2. Fine. Blowjays. There. I said it.

3. Be passive aggressive about the fact that he’s taking his sweet ass time. Men love that.

 

6. How should I ask my girlfriend to marry me?

It’s hard to think of something original, I know. I think you should surprise her by bursting through the bathroom door while she’s sitting on the toilet and just hand it to her. What a delightful surprise! She will never expect it! (The lady in question 5 can go ahead and roll her eyes because question 6 has nothing to do with her…of course).

 

I hope I was able to offer helpful advice today. I will be back next week to answer more of your questions! In the mean time, please feel free to ask me anything in the comments below!

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Learning To Cook

7 May

If you’re anything like me, you have Italian mother who finds it disgraceful that you can’t cook. Perhaps she even tries to teach you, but you get lost while chasing her around the kitchen as she creates edible masterpieces without recipes and, amidst the confusion, you can’t help but think of the days when she was the one chasing you around the kitchen, but with a wooden spoon (you naughty, naughty thing, you). Maybe your older, popular, more successful, better looking brother is also a good cook and they both look down on you as you microwave hot dogs and put them on questionable buns.

My new roommate Jaime is also pretty clueless in this area, but we wanted to cook for our dudes. Like, we didn’t even know how to season and cook a good steak or properly boil potatoes to make mashed potatoes from scratch. Sure, we could have looked at recipes, but I’ve often found that this doesn’t work for me and that my timing is all off.

This, my friends, is where Adryon of Adryon’s Kitchen came to our rescue. She told us what to get and then came over and instructed us on how to make kitchen magic.

 

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Look, Jaime’s happy to be making some magical caramelized onions

 

Adryon will go to your house and teach you to use your own kitchen and bring some tools if necessary. You do the work so you actually learn something while she supervises and teaches you all the little tricks that recipes leave out. She is witty and really down to earth about it, too, making the experience less overwhelming. I think my favorite thing to learn was the salad dressing I made from scratch.

The potatoes were fun, too, but next time I’ll try not to be so jazzed about eating them that I sprain my wrist while mashing and stirring in a maniacal frenzy.

Whatever. They were worth it.

It was a busy couple of hours (with a break or two to watch cute proposal videos and cry while wearing aprons and drinking vodka…a sign that I am growing into a fine woman, indeed). I gained some confidence in the kitchen and it felt good to make an entire meal. Everything was delicious.

I would like for her to come back and show me more and she mentioned that we could do anything from one-on-one lessons to cooking for a dinner party. I kind of want to keep her.

She will do this with you, too, regardless of what cooking level you’re on, so Baltimore and surrounding area people should check out her blog adryonskitchen.com and give her a shout at adryonskitchen@gmail.com. It will make your disappointed mother proud and your boyfriend, girlfriend or dinner party happy (especially if you’d normally be serving hot dogs, otherwise). Out of town folks should still check out her recipes!

Also, side note, I’m still waiting for the update on when my episode of Katie Couric will air, so hold your horses.

 

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On Blogging

29 Apr

Blogging has been an unexpected journey for me. It started as an extension to the journals I began at age 12 that lasted until about 23, filling five books:

 

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The quote on the cover that says, “Life itself is the most wonderful fairytale” is ironic, really, because from page one the reader can sense the true awkwardness of a chubby, shy, hopeful romantic (even at age 12) who experiences the absolute opposite of anything resembling a fairytale.

The topics within the second half of that top journal alone talk about my friends and I at 15-years-old facing being dumped, eating disorders, rape, my dream date for a dance who broke me into pieces by choosing to go with a girl he said was prettier, drinking, a stomach being pumped, a stabbing, depression and death.

My romantic awkwardness and my tendency to over-think everything continues throughout the five journals and despite every moment that would make most readers cringe as I embarrass myself on the regular, the entire thing is woven together with a sense of “gratefulness, hope and humor” that I had and continue to carry with me as I go.

I stopped writing things down for a few years and when I picked it up again, I chose to blog and decided that no matter what depressing thing happened in the world or in my personal experience, I was going to write for myself and shed a humorous light on life. I was tired of reading and watching awful things, you know? I didn’t expect, or necessarily even want others to read it. I’m grateful that people do read and comment, but I still don’t expect it. I simply wanted to creatively journal for myself and had no idea there was going to be a community aspect.

My stats, number of followers and being Freshly Pressed meant and still mean very little to me.

With that said, I was delighted to meet people, be real and learn that I can make others laugh. I think the community has introduced us all to others who inspire us and/or have somehow changed our lives. Writers can easily connect with each other here–we all know about an artist’s deeper layers that exist within each one of us. It gives us an immediate connection and for some, a way to throw around ideas. Through this I’ve also met some friends I’d like to keep for a lifetime, had conversations with people from all over the world and even had a very odd fan fiction story written about me. I wonder whatever happened to that guy.

Perhaps the real bonus for this little lady has been the dick pictures from past commenters, even though I continually announced that I would laugh at every penis entering my inbox (and I did… that pun was not intended, by the way).

Little did those dudes know about the coffee table book I’ll publish someday called, “Is This Your Dick?” that will highlight all the ding dongs.

So, that’s what makes my blogging experience go ’round.

Why do you blog?

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Katie Couric: Part 1

22 Apr

Two weeks ago, my boyfriend and I went to NYC because yours truly was a guest on Katie Couric’s daytime TV show on ABC. Basically, one of my posts here (I will repost it before the show airs, I am not yet sure of the date) caught the attention of a producer and they invited me to be on the show. Crazy, I know.

I was nervous. I mean, I barely know how to walk in a straight line, my laugh is kind of ridiculous and I often stumble over my words. The other day when I sneezed in the parking lot at work, my shoe flew off and a guy laughed at me. A few weeks ago I fell while running and my shorts got pulled down and guess who wasn’t wearing panties?

What I am trying to say is that things can get weird around here, but I accept this. I was worried, however, that it would be difficult to control this general clumsiness/awkwardness and I didn’t really want to have to tell you a story about how I embarrassed myself in front of Katie Couric, an audience and cameras.

What was a girl to do? I was told that getting a lot of sleep would help, but instead my nervousness led us to margaritas:

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and then this happened…

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…but too many margaritas and that creepy old bikini guy didn’t do the trick, you guys, so the next morning I was up at 5 am thinking of all the ways I was going to screw things up. I thought of how to get out of it and even pretended to have a stomach ache, which my boyfriend saw straight through and resulted in him physically taking my hand and pulling me through New York City to the studio. Bless him.

When we got there, I changed in the green room and went to hair and makeup. The women who fixed me up did a beautiful job, but I felt a bit weird because I don’t usually wear much makeup and I could tell it made my boyfriend uncomfortable, too:

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Him: You’re so….sparkly.

Me: I knew it! I look like a sparkly whore!

Him: Well, don’t worry, it’s just makeup for TV and I bet up close Katie Couric will look like a sparkly whore, too!

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The idea of me hanging out with Katie Couric while we both looked like sparkly whores made me feel a lot better.

We watched the first segment in the green room before someone came to get another woman and I for our segment. Everything after that felt like a whirlwind because suddenly, whilst in a cloud of hairspray, a guy was clipping a microphone to my bra, a woman was using a lint roller on me and the makeup artist was retouching my lipstick.

I don’t remember much that happened after that. The conversation with Katie Couric was short, and funny, but I have no recollection of what was said. She was nice and very laid back and mentioned afterward that she liked my slippers (more on that later) and that I was funny. I secretly celebrated with imaginary high fives all around to everyone nearby.

My boyfriend says I did well, but maybe he’s just being nice. Who knows. I didn’t fall, so that’s a plus. He did mention that he heard me guffaw at Katie’s sex joke while on camera, so I hope they edit that out because yikes.

Anyway, that sums up the time I was on Katie Couric’s daytime show….one of the most random things I’ll ever do. I’ll be able to tell you more about the subject later and will let you know when it airs if you want to DVR it or something.

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