It's been a truly uneventful couple of days, but I know y'all worry when I have no Frau rants or Ladies Room stories, so here's a random collection of musings I've been saving up. [no Frau sightings. sorry.]
Ladies Room:
I have a new bathroom buddy. She's actually one of the nicer (and nicely dressed) gals from the law offices. We seem to have the same potty schedule and we're always in there together. But that's not the kind of story you want, so here's a good one (as told to me by Liz--insert a Rosie Perez accent for better effect) (To be clear, Liz doesn't have the accent, Baby Daddy Drama does).
Okay, Liz was in the ladies room and saw a pair of jeans slung over a stall door. My first thought would be that someone had an accident. Liz did her business and was washing her hands when Baby Daddy Drama came out wearing a pair of brown surgical scrubs with the legs pulled over her fuzzy boots and said, "Girl, I had to buy me some pants. Those jeans were too short. They were like high waters. You know, girl; you tall like me." Liz nods and said, "uh huh."
BDD continued, "They look like dress pants, don't they?"
Liz, always a sweetheart, said, "yeah, they're nice."
BDD offered, "Yeah, and they were cheap, too. Five dollars."
Liz asked, "Oh, where did you get them?"
BDD said, "Downstairs." [there's a department store in our building] "Girl, they have all kinds."
So, the lesson we've learned here is should one have an accident or in any other way be in need of "dress" pants while at work, the store downstairs will sell 'em to you cheap.
Bad Dreams:
Not last weekend, but the one before (when I had my crisis of yarn), I had perfectly pleasant days and horrifying nightmares all night. I couldn't figure it out as it continued through the week, except for Tuesday night when I went to see Bushwalla and had a few drinks (great show. I heart Billy Galewood). By Thursday, the dreams had tapered off from horrifying to just slightly disturbing. Then, this weekend, the horror returned. By horror, I mean awful dreams of murder and mayhem filled with visceral images that cause one to bolt upright in bed and gasp for air. This explains why I'm so frakkin' tired all day. Anywho, I've decided the only way to stop said dreams is to have a few drinks or smoke some weed before bedtime. Unfortunately, I don't smoke and I hate to drink alone.
Annoying commercials:
You know how I love to hate on commercials. T-Mobile commercial--old couple talking about plan commitments. First of all, it drove me nuts trying to figure out who the woman was because I know she was a regular on a show I watched. Turns out she was the dead Grandmother from "Charmed." Yes, I watch a whole lot of WB/ CW. Anyway, they've been married for 40 years (or 38) and have had 11 bulldogs all named Steve. What the hell are they doing to these dogs??? I mean, the average bulldog lives 8 years, so unless they've had several dogs at one time all with the same name (ala George Foreman), that's just ridiculous.
OH SNAP! Late breaking news: I had another commercial rant but I can't remember it right now. A girl in our office just received a BOX OF FLOWERS! Did y'all see that Teleflora ad during the Super Bowl? Apparently her boyfriend did not.
This one has no heading but is further example of my embarrassing television habits. So, Tuesday, at The Mint for Bushwalla's EP release, Criss and I were sitting at the bar when this guy behind her gets very close. He was a tallish fellow and I'm not sure what he was doing exactly, but his ass was kind of rubbing up against Criss's back. I told her, "He's an actor." To which she replied something about that not giving him the right to rub his ass on her back. She didn't recognize him so I thought about it. Maybe I was mistaken. Maybe he was just some guy I saw around town a lot, like this one guy who looked like Daphne Zuniga whom I saw everywhere for years (turns out he was in a band and totally had a feminine voice, too.) No, I was sure he was an actor and that I'd seen him on television in a recurring role. Finally, it dawned on me--he plays a teacher on the new 90210. KTLA is my favorite.
Ladies Room:
I have a new bathroom buddy. She's actually one of the nicer (and nicely dressed) gals from the law offices. We seem to have the same potty schedule and we're always in there together. But that's not the kind of story you want, so here's a good one (as told to me by Liz--insert a Rosie Perez accent for better effect) (To be clear, Liz doesn't have the accent, Baby Daddy Drama does).
Okay, Liz was in the ladies room and saw a pair of jeans slung over a stall door. My first thought would be that someone had an accident. Liz did her business and was washing her hands when Baby Daddy Drama came out wearing a pair of brown surgical scrubs with the legs pulled over her fuzzy boots and said, "Girl, I had to buy me some pants. Those jeans were too short. They were like high waters. You know, girl; you tall like me." Liz nods and said, "uh huh."
BDD continued, "They look like dress pants, don't they?"
Liz, always a sweetheart, said, "yeah, they're nice."
BDD offered, "Yeah, and they were cheap, too. Five dollars."
Liz asked, "Oh, where did you get them?"
BDD said, "Downstairs." [there's a department store in our building] "Girl, they have all kinds."
So, the lesson we've learned here is should one have an accident or in any other way be in need of "dress" pants while at work, the store downstairs will sell 'em to you cheap.
Bad Dreams:
Not last weekend, but the one before (when I had my crisis of yarn), I had perfectly pleasant days and horrifying nightmares all night. I couldn't figure it out as it continued through the week, except for Tuesday night when I went to see Bushwalla and had a few drinks (great show. I heart Billy Galewood). By Thursday, the dreams had tapered off from horrifying to just slightly disturbing. Then, this weekend, the horror returned. By horror, I mean awful dreams of murder and mayhem filled with visceral images that cause one to bolt upright in bed and gasp for air. This explains why I'm so frakkin' tired all day. Anywho, I've decided the only way to stop said dreams is to have a few drinks or smoke some weed before bedtime. Unfortunately, I don't smoke and I hate to drink alone.
Annoying commercials:
You know how I love to hate on commercials. T-Mobile commercial--old couple talking about plan commitments. First of all, it drove me nuts trying to figure out who the woman was because I know she was a regular on a show I watched. Turns out she was the dead Grandmother from "Charmed." Yes, I watch a whole lot of WB/ CW. Anyway, they've been married for 40 years (or 38) and have had 11 bulldogs all named Steve. What the hell are they doing to these dogs??? I mean, the average bulldog lives 8 years, so unless they've had several dogs at one time all with the same name (ala George Foreman), that's just ridiculous.
OH SNAP! Late breaking news: I had another commercial rant but I can't remember it right now. A girl in our office just received a BOX OF FLOWERS! Did y'all see that Teleflora ad during the Super Bowl? Apparently her boyfriend did not.
This one has no heading but is further example of my embarrassing television habits. So, Tuesday, at The Mint for Bushwalla's EP release, Criss and I were sitting at the bar when this guy behind her gets very close. He was a tallish fellow and I'm not sure what he was doing exactly, but his ass was kind of rubbing up against Criss's back. I told her, "He's an actor." To which she replied something about that not giving him the right to rub his ass on her back. She didn't recognize him so I thought about it. Maybe I was mistaken. Maybe he was just some guy I saw around town a lot, like this one guy who looked like Daphne Zuniga whom I saw everywhere for years (turns out he was in a band and totally had a feminine voice, too.) No, I was sure he was an actor and that I'd seen him on television in a recurring role. Finally, it dawned on me--he plays a teacher on the new 90210. KTLA is my favorite.
3 comments:
Dude. With all the crazy sh*t going on around here (and the rest of the country), it's no wonder you have nightmares. I'm thinking a nice alternative to smoking/drinking would be a Rx to Ambien - non-addictive (and I have an *addictive* personality), no hangover, and you sleep like a baby. (I'm thinking you're not sleeping well, which is why you're remembering your dreams.)
That's my 5¢ diagnosis, anyway. :)
You watch too much TV. All of those WB shows would give me nightmares too! IMHO
Criss had Egg Old Ass rubbing against her. Ewwwww.
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