How to Get Ready and Go, or Diary of a Disorganized Mom Part II September 29, 2006

Need to be somewhere? How long is the drive? Add 15 minutes to that number. This is the amount of time beforehand that you should start getting everyone into the car. You will not do this. You will be lucky if you are loading the car 5 minutes after you should have left.

Walk outside and put your bag(s) in the car. You should have enough diapers/wipes/snack foods/extra clothes/shoes/coffee-for-Mommy to keep everyone happy and supplied for one hour less than the amount of time you are out.

Go back inside and rally the kids. You say, “Time to go.” They happily go outside, but not into the car. Instead, they run in circles in the driveway. Over and over. And over. Ponder why they even enjoy doing it so much. Then ask them to please get in the car. Be ignored. Count to three. Be ignored again. Pick them up and physically put them in the car. Dodge that kick. Buckle the little one in. Wait for the bigger one to buckle himself in. It always takes longer than you think it will.

Lock the front door, lock the gate, get in your car. Start it. Realize you left your cell phone charging in the kitchen. Turn off the car, get out, unlock your gate, unlock your door, go inside. Cell phone is not in the charging cradle. Where is it? Spend five minutes looking. Eventually, you will find it, perhaps inside a cereal box or the printer tray.

Go back out to car, making sure to lock the door and gate. Get in your car and turn it on, set your phone in your bag, and realize you took your glasses off while you were inside the house. Turn off car AGAIN, walk back inside AGAIN.

This is an excellent time to step in a random dog mess near your front door that was not left by your own dogs. Repeat after me: YOU ARE NEVER TOO BUSY FOR A STEAMING MUG OF DOG CRAPPUCCINO ON YOUR FAVORITE PAIR OF SHOES.

Use a handful of baby wipes to wipe your shoes off, amaze yourself by finding your glasses immediately, go back outside, get in your car, and go, go, go! Stress the whole time you’re driving. By the way, your glasses keep slipping off because they only have one arm (leg?) because your cute little girl that everyone oohs and ahs over broke it off the other day while you were holding your son down for a traumatic blood taking experience, and you haven’t gotten around to buying a new pair.

You’re late to wherever you were going. You do your thing, you run out of diapers, you run out of snack food, your coffee got cold before you finished half of it. You get home, tired and irritable.

Hey, look! You forgot to lock the door when you left. Good job. Apparently, you didn’t shut it all the way either, because it’s blown open. Hope there’s no molesters hiding inside. Why did you ever think it was a good idea to look your address up on Family Watch Dog?

Oh, and by the way, you also didn’t throw away the baby wipes you used to clean your shoe and now your kitchen smells.

The kids are running in circles in the driveway again. Join them. It IS fun.

This one time, at band camp… September 28, 2006

It’s my 25th post! Wow, I never stick with things for so long. So I know people usually wait for the 100th post to do this, but 100 is an awful lot of things to read about me in one post.

I’m one of those people who always has a story. And these are 25 of them:

1. My best friend and I stayed up for almost 48 hours listening to a radio station that was giving away Bob Dylan concert tickets every hour or so to whatever number caller. We finally won.

2. I attended a celebrity wedding, where I met Brad Pitt and spoke like a star-struck idiot. He was very nice about it.

3. I was on a local cable TV show where I played Emma, a clairvoyant maid.

4. The morning of my wedding, one of my bridesmaids woke up to discover her dog had suffocated in the night while sleeping with her on my couch. She took one too many painkillers to comfort herself and was in and out of alertness throughout the entire wedding ceremony. We’re talking in the style of Molly Ringwald’s sister in Sixteen Candles. She is probably not going to be happy to see that I have posted this. But she has get over it. Because that was my wedding day.

5. During my first Mardi Gras, I met Noel Gallagher from Oasis on Canal Street. He licked my eye. No idea why.

6. I attended college on a scholarship that covered full tuition and a dorm room for four years. I was offered full rides to two other colleges as well. Now, I’ve been rejected three times for grad school. Fucking MFAs.

7. I used to be Pocahontas for a birthday party company in New Orleans. I attended kids’ birthday parties where I made beaded jewelry and sang songs, let the girls braid my hair, and fielded remarks from fathers and uncles that often made use of the word “poke.”

8. The Aryan/Nordic Tattooed Guy story. Already told you this one.

9. I was obsessed with the same guy a majority of my college life. I asked him out many times. He said no every single time, the worst excuse of which was “My teeth hurt.” Yeah.

10. When I was 13 years old, I went trick or treating with some friends and we got to a house with a shabby looking scarecrow on the front steps. My friends dared me to sit on its lap. I went one step further and grabbed its crotch. Turns out, the scarecrow was an actual guy trying to scare trick or treaters. I have still not lived this down. YM Magazine printed it in their embarrassing moments column, and it only got 3 stars out of 4.

11. When I used to have a job that didn’t involve diapers, I went out for drinks after work one night and drank too much. I threw up on my boss’ car. Not in it. On it. He let it slide.

12. When I was three months pregnant, I was on vacation in French Polynesia and crashed on a rented vespa. I got a second degree burn on my right leg. Bizarrely, it scarred in the shape of the island of Moorea.

13. When I was 18, I went to France for 3 weeks. While there, I went kayaking in a tiny little town in Northern France near the border with Belgium. I happened to be the 1000th customer at the kayaking rental place. They gave me a free pass, some company logo paraphernalia, and my picture was in two local papers. I still have them.

14. My favorite T-shirt features the Pac-Man video game screen. I’ve had it since 1996. Without fail, I receive compliments on it every single time I wear it. I also discovered that I could attract far more attention from men while wearing this shirt than anything low cut or tight fitting.

15. When I went to Six Flags in Atlanta, GA, I went on a ride called The Flying Dutchman. It’s that boat ride that swings back and forth and then finally goes upside down. While I was standing in line, when the boat flipped upside down, someone’s dentures fell out and landed on the waiting platform. No one claimed them.

16. My friend and I got front row & center tickets for $20 apiece to see Rent on Broadway from the lottery they do outside the theatre a half hour before every performance.

17. When I met my husband, he lived in California and I lived in New Orleans. I met him while visiting a friend in California. He didn’t call me until two months later. Then he flew to New Orleans for one night to take me out to dinner.

18. Unfortunately, on that above date, somebody got shot on the street we were walking down. It gave my husband a bad image of New Orleans.

19. Also unfortunately, on that trip to Cali when I initially met my husband, I missed a Beastie Boys concert (which was the whole reason I was in town to visit my friend that particular weekend) because we drank too much during the day, got lost a zillion times on the way to our hotel, our cab from the hotel dropped us off at the wrong place, and we wound up WALKING to the Inglewood Forum. If you do not know how unsafe an idea this was, trust me, it was.

20. When I was in downtown Las Vegas with a girlfriend, we happened upon a filming of a commercial for the “Fremont Street Experience,” and danced in it.

21. On the way home from this particular trip to Vegas, I ran out of gas on Interstate 15 in the middle of the friggin’ desert. The California Highway Patrol pushed my car to a gas station.

22. On a Southwest flight from San Diego to El Paso, the woman sitting next to me had some sort of diabetic episode, and she was traveling with her 19 month old in her lap and no one else. I wound up holding him. I also wound up standing most of that flight, because the flight attendants needed my seat to sit next to and help the woman.

23. I was at a Flock of Seagulls concert (way after their heyday) at some bar, where an old drunk woman was yelling at a Kathy Ireland cardboard stand up. I encouraged her to punch and kick said cardboard standup, which she did, an act that led to her getting kicked out of the bar. I kind of felt bad about that. Kind of.

24. When I was pregnant with The Boy, the doctor told me I was having a girl, and I had pink everything and cute dresses and all that good stuff. Fortunately, we found out a week before I had him, so I was able to procure some boy clothing to take him home from the hospital in.

25. When I turned 16 years old, my friends and I went bowling and I bowled a 212. It is the one and only time I ever bowled over a 200, and I still have no idea how I did it.

I’d Rather My Child Were Left Behind on This One September 25, 2006

How do you spell S-H-I-T L-I-S-T?

A teacher in New York gave parents spelling packets for her third graders on Back to School night (AKA BS Night). Sounds harmless enough, right? Apparently, the teacher used a font that was hella kinky, consisting of stick figures positioning themselves in, ahem, Kama Sutra like arrangements to form each letter. I’ve seen this font before. It’s used in the architectural recommendations for the San Onofre Power Plant.

The school district apologized on behalf of Mrs. Dixie Normous, and said the mistake was unintentional. Of course, I don’t know about you but my Microsoft Word program does not have this Times New Greco-Roman Wrestling font. So as ‘unintentional’ as Mrs. Amanda Fuchard’s mistake may be, everybody still knows that Lil’ Miss Behavin’ runs Windows XPervert on her home computer.

If I were in her shoes (or bed, as the case may be), I would be sure to send out a letter of apology:

Dear Parents,

As many of you know, I accidentally sent out my recent BS Night info with an inappropriate font. It was supposed to read in Arial Rounded MT Bold, but I accidentally chose the Arial Rounded by Ron Jeremy on Mt. Bold font selection. I sincerely apologize for my mistake. To those of you who are wondering why I even have this font selection, it’s only because I was trying to pull up Craigs List to check the free postings for any supplies I might be able to use in school, like extra pencils and pads of paper, and I accidentally pulled up Craig List, which is nothing at all like Craigs List, and it automatically gave me these extra fonts to my computer without my knowledge and I don’t know how to get rid of them. You know, it’s like when you get an STD. At least, that’s that what my friend from Geek Squad told me (his name is John).

With sincerest apology,

Miss Beehmer

P.S. Also, please note that third grade is the year we study the planetary line up. As you may have heard, Pluto is no longer a planet and I’d like to advise you all to forget about the old mnemonic device of “My Very Educated Mother Just Served Us Nine Pizzas.” I have constructed a new one– “My Vibrator Excites Me, Just So U No.”

For further information on the school district’s hiring process, please watch the following informational video:

Still Feeling Catholic, I mean Guilty September 23, 2006

The Boy has severe eczema. As in, I’m not adding that adjective to describe it, that’s how the doctors write it down in their paperwork: “Severe Eczema.” Sounds severe, huh?

I hemmed and hawed over it, but decided to enroll him in a study for treatment of severe eczema with a very reputable dermatology group, one of the best in fact, and the same group that he sees for his regular skin exams, which is how I found out about the study in the first place. It did a lot for his skin, but didn’t clear it up, and the final appointment for the purposes of the study was today. It involved him getting his blood taken, and then again 30 minutes later. He’s three and a half. You can imagine how that went down.

First Time: I had to sit Indian style and hold him in place while another doctor held his arm, and the nurse took the blood. Another nurse was standing by for back up and also to prevent Little No Limit from getting in the way. The Boy cried, then calmed down. The nurse fidgeted with the needle to get the blood going. It went. He cried again. He said he wanted the lollipop. We asked what color. He said yellow. He calmed down. Not too much struggling. It was done. We clapped and congratulated him. He said he wanted his lollipop. We got it for him. This is the third time in his life blood has been taken. The second was at the beginning of the study. The first was when he was 14 months and randomly came down with a 105 degree fever while we were on a road trip, and we took him to the nearest emergency room, and they said, “Well, uh, we don’t know for sure, but, uh, we think it’s probably some virus. Here’s some antibiotics.” Yeah, because that fucking helps. But I digress…

The thirty minute layover in between blood takings involved us hanging around in the doctor’s room, playing with the legos, reading stories, my promises of a trip to see Nana and Papa, bribery, bribery, bribery…

Second Time: As soon as everyone came back in the room and I pulled him into my lap, he knew what was going on and FREAKED out. He just flat out started thrashing and screaming, “No No No, I don’t want it, I want to go home, I don’t want a lollipop, I want to go home,” but I held him down, while promising trips to Disneyland. As if he cares. He started asking if he could just have a time out instead. Great. Furthermore, his vein wasn’t showing up in either of his arms, so the nurse had to take it from his hand. Now, having had my blood taken zillions of times between two pregnancies and life insurance exams, not to mention three operations, I’ve had my share of unwanted needle-in-the-hand moments because my arms don’t always work out (it’s always nice when that happens—I wind up with bruises on my arms and look like a junkie). With exception to the time my wisdom teeth were pulled and I was already high on laughing gas, I know for a fact the needle-in-hand is marginally uncomfortable.
When his cry pierced the air at the touch of that needle, a huge feeling of guilt settled into me. Why was I doing this? Was it wrong? Was I betraying him? Was it even necessary? You might already be condemning me, but believe me when I say, I made sure this study was very legit and everything was FDA approved, and I really do feel it was helpful to let him participate in the study because he got a lot of one on one interaction with his doctor on a weekly basis, as opposed to the every three months his usual appointments were.
And for real, people, I can’t even go out anywhere without being asked if he has fucking chicken pox. And do you really think I haven’t tried EVERY SINGLE LOTION KNOWN TO MAN??????? Aveeno will not solve his problem. And neither will Eucerin, Lubriderm, Cetaphil, Sarna, herbs, teas, oils, steroids, antihistamines, allergy tests, diet or laundry detergent alterations, or drinking his own piss (just kidding on that last one, but I read that as a method somewhere. Turns out, I do have a line, and that crosses it).

So anyways, I felt really guilty holding him down to get his blood taken and it took forever and the thought that was running through my head was, I wish there was a TV in here. Why would I think something so stupid? Because I was curious. I read about this study a few weeks ago, and I really wondered if having a TV playing Piglet’s Big Movie right then would have made the whole process much easier. Honestly, I really believe it would have. I know when The Boy was younger, and it was a pain in the ass to cut his fingernails, I would pop in a Baby Einstein, and I cut, cut, cut away.

But, in the end all, we had no TV, and we still got the blood, and he was upset, but he calmed down, and he took the lollipop even though he had screamed about not wanting it, and we drove to see Nana and Papa, who had bought him a Tickle Me Elmo (and also got Little No Limit a Special Edition Tickle Me Elmo Barbie), and we went swimming and ate pasta and non-spinach leaf salad, and now we’re home, and they took a fun bath and went to bed happy.

So, really, did I traumatically affect his whole view on life by holding him down for a doctor to stick a needle in his hand? Judging by the fact that he still said “Thank you for Mommy” in his prayers tonight, I’m guessing no.

And yet, I still feel guilty.

Random Riley Ramblings September 19, 2006

On A More Personal Note…

I woke up, hit the snooze button three of four times, then finally relented. Why did I stay up late reading again? Oh right, Husband beat me by 100 points at Scrabble and I couldn’t get over it. 100 freakin points! I hate “Derivate.”

I went into the kids’ room. The Boy had already woken up, but Little No Limit was still in her crib. I stepped on my dog’s paw. She blends in with the rug, and I wasn’t looking down. She yelped, I stumbled, and stepped barefoot on a Hot Wheel. Mother. Fucker. I yelled, I stumbled, and then I trip over my other dog, who has come to the room to see what all the commotion is about. I hit my knee on The Boy’s bed frame, and catch myself, but not before dragging the blanket onto the floor. It’s a fleece blanket, so it picks up all the dog hair on the floor that should have been vacuumed up but I haven’t vacuumed in several days because I’ve been running around.

What have I been doing?

On both Saturday and Sunday morning, I went surfing with my cousins. I paddled my ass off, I managed to stand on the board in white water, but wiped out on every wave I attempted to catch. Let me put it this way: If My Day of Surfing was last night’s Monday Night Football game, then the Ocean was the Jaguars, and I was the Steelers (in your faces, Bill and Ben). Much like the Steelers, I am now badly bruised. I think my hip bones actually bruised me from the inside. Who knew? I have matching bruises, each approximately 2 x 2 inches. Then there’s the quarter size ones on both my knees, not the mention a lovely, deep purple one on my shoulder. I bet there’s one on my head too, from when my board landed on it. I am excruciatingly sore as well, and aware of every muscle in my body every time I move. For anyone who thinks that the hardest part of surfing is standing on the board, they are very VERY misled. The hardest part is paddling. On the bright side, I think I may have gotten the best workout of my life.

What else this weekend?

I went to a friend’s birthday party on Saturday night. We stayed over until midnight playing poker. Husband and I cleared everyone out, but I gave my winnings back to the birthday boy. They didn’t really know too much about my card playing skills, they only knew me as the Mom who comes over with the kids for playdates. So my drunk, card playing, shit-talking persona (which I think is the real me) was a little unexpected.

I saw Etta James on Sunday night. She rocked the house. And in case you think she is an old woman in an evening gown, singing At Last to a gala benefit-type audience, you would be as shocked as I was to see her Sunday night, rocking onto the stage in a cute little outfit with a cowboy shirt over it, grabbing her crotch, feeling her boobs, wiggling her tongue at select audience members and demanding her lead guitarist to, er, mime?, giving her oral satisfaction. In other words, her show ROCKED.

But now, I’m stepping on toys in a house direly in need of cleaning, and I can still barely move. I have a dentist appointment and back to school night to figure out, my sis in law’s baby shower to complete the invitations for, and my article assignments this morning included one about the Knack trying to sue Run DMC for using part of “My Sharona” without their permission in “It’s Tricky.” Really? I have to write a serious article about this? I can’t put anything subjective like, “Hey, sorry you’re a one hit wonder, but that song is 20 years old and yours is even older, so get over your broke selves and we all know you would spend any money you would win on cocaine, so why don’t I just kick you in the nuts and we’ll call it a day.” Yeah, I know. Why can’t I write that in my article? Instead, it’s like “Run DMC has yet to make any comments.”

Sigh. I need my coffee.

You Can’t Do That on Television September 15, 2006

Toddled Dredge tagged me for her meme, My Ten Favorite TV Characters. If you’re looking for responsible, well thought out character analysis, read hers. As for me, I went from good to bad to worse to tasteless, and around full circle. After all, that’s the life cycle of most television series anyways (except for that whole ‘full circle’ part).

1. Dr. Sam Beckett – Quantum Leap. Okay, how great was Quantum Leap? Didn’t watch much of it? Do it now. Scott Bakula took that character to the limit and beyond. There was no person he couldn’t be. There are so many great episodes of that show, I couldn’t even tell you which one I loved the most, but these are all up there: as a lawyer defending a black woman on trial for killing a white man in the old south; as the geeky younger brother who saves his sister from marrying a total jerk; as the college frat boy who stops an anti-Vietnam activist from bombing the school lab and accidentally killing a janitor, or when he jumps into his own life at age 16 and tries so hard to change everything.

2. Spock – Star Trek. (for those of you who already caught me calling him Dr. Spock, yes, I am an ass) I’m a sucker for Star Trek and Star Trek: The Next Generation. Campy in presentation, timeless in theme. And pointy ears? Brrr-ing it!

3. Methos – Highlander. Yeah, you heard me. HIGH-LAN-DER. I love that show. I’d like to slap some bar-b-que sauce on it and eat that shit up.
Highlander also scores high in these other categories:
Best Theme Song: Queen + air guitar = Crazy Delicious
LEAST favorite TV character: Richie. He so did not deserve to be immortal.
Best Guest Stars: What other show had Roger Daltrey and Joan Jett brandishing swords like they’re friggin’ Samurai? Word.
Best Character Introduction: I’m Duncan MacLeod of the clan MacLeod.
There can be only one.

4. Will Ferrell as Janet Reno – Saturday Night Live. I decided I would pick a single character from all my beloved sketch comedy watching, and this is who I decided on, because it truly is oh so ridiculous just how much he looks like her, and how unabashedly they made fun of her, and how cool it was when she actually appeared on the show. Other ones I considered, in no particular order:
Charlie Murphy’s True Hollywood Stories, Chappelle Show
The Player Hater’s Club, Chappelle Show
The Ladies Man, SNL
Fire Marshall Bill, In Living Colour
Men on Film, In Living Colour
Ministry for Silly Walks, Monty Python’s Flying Circus
Crushing Your Head, Kids in the Hall

5. Walker, Texas Ranger. I chose him specifically so I could put this in my post: There is no theory of evolution. Just a list of creatures Chuck Norris has allowed to live.

6. K.I.T.T. – Knight Rider. Knight Rider is without a doubt the most unintentional comedy to ever grace the small screen. 90210 has nothing on Hasselhoff running around in tight pants and chest-hair-baring shirts, smooching the ladies, and talking to his watch so his best friend, a TRANS-AM, can come to the rescue. KITT, I need you buddy! Must… press… Turbo Boost… every episode…

7. Dan Fielding – Night Court. I remember an episode where he finds out he might have a shot at getting into bed with Christine’s friend, and Christine says to him, “I’m ashamed of you, acting like a rutting pig.” He stands up, straightens his jacket and says, “I gotta be me.” If you’re going to be a jerk womanizer, be one with pride.

8. Kermit the Frog - The Muppet Show. I’m having a sentimental moment…

10. Homer Simpson – The Simpsons. Veronica makes a strong argument for Bart, but in the end, I have to stick with Homer. He is both a testament and a travesty, the prototypical lovable idiot. I could write a dissertation-length document of the one liners Homer consistently rattles out to my endless amusement, or you could take seven minutes of your time to watch this clip compilation, which is why I waited til the end to share him.

Okay, I tag Kristi and Joyce.

One Small Step by a Woman, One Giant Leap for Mankind September 11, 2006

In just a few more days, women will have another First to add to their books – the first woman space tourist. She is also the First Space Ambassador. Period. Not first man. First human. Anousheh Ansari, you go with your bad self.

Posted on the home page of her website is the following comment: “I hope to tangibly demonstrate to young people all over the world that there is no limit to what they can accomplish.” Especially when you have 21.5 million dollars to spare. Ohhhhhhh, that was snide… yes, I am jealous, and also a little bummed, because really? That’s what it took? A whole lot of cold hard cash? Is there anything in this world that can’t be bought?

Oh. Right.

This reminds me of a joke I got on email a while back:

A marketing representative for a frozen chicken company requested an audience with His Holiness Pope Benedict XVI to discuss some ‘private matters.’
Upon their meeting, the marketing rep told the Pope he wanted to discuss making a donation to the Catholic Church in the amount of 5 billion dollars. Pope Benedict XVI was delighted to accept, but the marketing rep added, “We only have this one request: we’d like for you to change the words of the Our Father from ‘give us this day our daily bread’ to ‘give us this day our daily chicken.’ Pope Benedict balked at the offer and told the man it was out of the question.
The marking rep nodded and then took out a piece of paper, wrote down an obscenely large number on it, and then told the Pope to “pray on it and get back to him.”
Well, the Pope did just that. And the following morning, he contacted the marketing representative and made arrangements for the donation. He then called a Vatican council.
Upon everyone’s arrival, Pope Benedict announced, “Everyone, I have wonderful news—I have just secured a donation to the Catholic Church that is going to take care of us for a very long time.” Applause filled the room, and the Pope sighed and looked down, “but I do have some bad news. We’re going to lose our Wonderbread account.”

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Come on, you know you think it’s funny.

So, while richer-than-Croesus Ansari is doing the space ambassador thing, she plans to study medicine while up there. Maybe if she discovers a cure for cancer, she can also make this record (though she still has to beat out my personal favorite, the use of staples to close up a c-section).

I like these kinds of records for women, though. It’s real, it’s legit, and it’s empowering. To both sexes. A while back, my friend and I were on the phone and she was reading an article to me that had compiled a list of women’s firsts in television history. Oh, how I wish I remembered where that article came from. It had things like the first time a TV series had a character go through menopause, the first TV character to appear in her bra, the first TV character to discuss menstruation. That’s all well and fine because these are parts of our life, but you don’t see guys chronicling a history of the first time jock straps, circumcision, and sperm-retention headaches got air time.
How about women firsts on TV like TV’s first working mother, first woman executive who wasn’t completely a slut, first woman judge on a network drama who made the male lawyers quiver with fear not because she was sexy but because she was smarter than them, and the first woman to run down a suspect and gratuitously kick his ass and engage in high speed car chases. And while we’re at it, the first group of chicks to sit around the table playing cards and drinking unabashedly while the husband walks around the kitchen cleaning up after them. For the love of Betty Friedan, Katie Couric’s broadcasting debut got more in-depth discussion of her legs and clothes than her actual reporting. Does anyone know what kind of legs Walter Cronkite has? The shape of Dan Rather’s calves?

All I know is this: I’m much more interested in the woman who burns her bra on television than the one who takes it off (unless that woman happens to be my daughter, in which case, damn, I fucked up).

Keep ‘em off the poles.

Cheap Laughs at 50 Cent a Pop September 9, 2006

So, some of you may know that I write content for a news website, approx 2-4 articles every morning.

This morning, I wrote an article about 50 Cent getting handcuffed in Manhattan. The famed rapper who sports 6 bullet wounds and a nicely chiseled 6 pack was out in his new $300 grand Lamborghini Murcielago, that he had tricked out in Cali and then shipped to him in Manhattan, and parked down the street from his Rolls Royce.

My other ride is yo mama.

As it turns out, Fiddy was so thrilled to be in his bouncing new car, he forgot to bring any forms of identification, you know, like, a vehicle registration, proof of insurance, those pesky things. He’s driving, he’s having a good time, he turns a corner without turning on his blinker, whoa—hold everything—he did WHAT!!!!!!!!!

You got it, he turned a corner without using his blinker. God forbid.

Breaking the law, breaking the law

Two cops followed and consequently pulled him over. Upon being pulled over, Mr. Fiddy did not have any of the correct papers to prove ownership of the car. Hell, he didn’t even have his driver’s license.

Mr. Cent chatted on his cell while the cops questioned him (another big point winner with the po po, I’m sure) while a crowd gathered. I suspect his one-sided cell conversation sounded something like this:

“They’re saying I need my vehicle registration! And what the fuck, there’s no license plate! What part of ‘get all my shit together so I can drive my new car’ didn’t you understand… Yes, that meant my magnum, but I also meant my fucking vehicle registration! DAMN!”

What did he have? An old learner’s permit. Who the fuck is this, a mega rap star or a high school girl? Because those are the only people I know who saved their learner’s permit. Surely, Mr. Cent’s trips in and out of jail would have relieved him of the contents of his wallet on enough occasions that he would think to himself, my learner’s permit? Nah, I don’t need to put that back in my wallet. I wonder if he carries it around for sentimental reasons like, oh, here’s a pic of lil’ old me, when I was just Curtis. Hmm, I didn’t have the right to vote then either.

Message to Fiddy: time to fire your personal assistant. If you do not have one, time to get one. Give me call. I’ll keep you well identified in the future, I’ll make sure your car is fitted with all the proper documents, and I’ll even throw in a couple rolls of toilet paper for when you want to TP Ja Rule’s house. Additionally, I will only cuff you when you beg for it.

In another article I wrote this morning about rappers, Muszamil is petitioning to memorialize his mentor, Tupac Shakur, with a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame for contributions to music. Tupac, who was killed 10 years ago (ahem, Shug Night), has gone on to posthumous fame and fortune, with college courses studying his lyrics and poetry and what not. So Muszamil has an online petition that had 6500 signatures at last count. He will also front the $15,000 it costs to send in the nomination application.

Okay, who knew that this was where one started on the walk of fame? Anyone can apply/be nominated for a star? As long as they got $15 grand? Don’t get me wrong, that’s only the nomination. The committee gets about 200 nominations a year and only 15 or 20 actually make it. But just this approach of getting the star bugs me. Feasibly speaking, Paris Hilton could pay for her own nomination, and possibly earn a spot on the Walk of Fame (which is no doubt her plan so that she can truly “mark her corner” in her eventual profession).

See the name? It really is my corner.

So, to recap:
Tupac: rest in peace
Muszamil: good luck getting him a star, good luck with your new album
50 Cent: Let me know about the cuffs.

Pretty, aren’t they?

The Mother of All Movie Quotes Quizzes September 8, 2006

Not really. More like the bastard child…

So you either are this person or you know this person: the one who quotes movies in every day life. The one who retains movie lines with uncanny accuracy. The one who pulls said lines from movies in references in daily situations with hopefully amusing results—provided the audience caught the reference.

One time, I was with a group of people and we were in the midst of some confusing conversation (drinking was involved) and I said, “When will then be now? Soon.”

Know where it’s from? Neither did anyone I was talking to. It’s that part in Spaceballs when they’re watching Spaceballs the Movie. How do you feel now? Mad you missed that reference and want to redeem yourself or caught that reference and want to keep up? Check out these Scenes from my Movie Quoting Life. Scoring optional.

Scene One

Husband and I are trying to figure out what to buy his mother for her birthday.

Me: How about a high threadcount sheet set?
Husband: No.
Me: Why not?
Husband: I don’t want to buy my parents bedsheets. It’s too personal.
Me: Huh?
Husband: It’s their bed. You know, I don’t want to have anything to do with their bed. It would be like buying my mom lingerie or something. I just don’t go there.
Me: Dude, bedsheets and lingerie are so not the same thing.
Husband: Well, it’s the same ballpark.
Me: Ain’t the same ball park, ain’t the same league, ain’t even the same fucking sport!

What’s it from?

2 Points if you said Pulp Fiction.
3 Points if after reading this you thought of the Samuel Jackson beer commercial.

Scene Two

When I first opened up a MySpace account, I put this in my About Me section:

“Ah. Well… I attended Juilliard… I’m a graduate of the Harvard business school. I travel quite extensively. I lived through the Black Plague and had a pretty good time during that. I’ve seen the EXORCIST ABOUT A HUNDRED AND SIXTY-SEVEN TIMES, AND IT KEEPS GETTING FUNNIER EVERY SINGLE TIME I SEE IT, NOT TO MENTION THE FACT THAT YOU’RE TALKING TO A DEAD GUY. NOW WHAT DO YOU THINK?!? You think I’m qualified?”

2 points if you said Beetlejuice.
A trip to Blockbuster is in order if you didn’t.

Scene Three

I am sitting on a bench with Best Friend, who is fretting about her exam. She has crammed last minute, and is hoping for the best. She checks her watch and says she’s going to class to take the exam and if she doesn’t know it now, she won’t learn it in the next few minutes.

Her: Wish me luck, dude, I’m gonna need it.
Me: May the force be with you.

What’s it from?

Subtract 1 if you honestly thought you would receive points for knowing this
Subtract 5 if you don’t know it
Subtract 10 if you have never seen it or think it sucked

Scene Four

There is no specific moment in my life when I can recall saying this, only the knowledge that I have said it many, many times:

“Down here, it’s our time—OUR TIME.”

3 points if you said Goonies
5 points if you think Sean Astin should have won the Oscar for Return of the King
7 points if you think Sean Astin should have been nominated, and Ken Watanabe should have won for The Last Samurai

Scene Five

I’m with Friend at the mall and looking at a rack of shirts, for a pink, size L. She keeps showing me other colors, and I keep saying, “No, I’m looking for pink.” Finally, after the third “Oh here’s one,” in a non-pink hue, I said, “DO YOU UNDERSTAND THE WORDS THAT ARE COMING OUT OF MY MOUTH?????!!!!!”

Who am I?

3 points if you said Chris Tucker
2 points if you said Smokey
1 point if you said Jackie Chan (because he does say it in Rush Hour 2)
Subtract 5 if you said Chris Rock, Dave Chappelle, Martin Lawrence, or any Wayan brother, and then hit yourself over the head.

Is this too hard? You’d best head on over to Quizilla where they ask you about show me the money, do I feel lucky, and I love the smell of napalm in the morning.

Is this too easy? Read on…

Scene Six

Back in the pre-baby days, when I was gainfully employed by the man, I would from time to time get called in on a shift I wasn’t assigned. Whenever anyone said, “Oh, I didn’t know you were coming in today,” I responded with:

“I’m not even supposed to be here today!”

Too common a statement to know from one movie? It’s only said like a zillion times in it. How about “My girlfriend sucked 37 dicks”? That get your attention? Yeah, I thought it would, you perv.

5 points if you knew it was Clerks from the first quote.
2 points if you knew it from the second.
1 additional point to either of the above point allocations if you asked “In a row?” to the second quote.

Scene Seven

Husband… huge guitar buff. We have a separate bedroom for all of his musical equipment, but the kids have both still managed to bump and bruise themselves on it. Whenever someone visits our house for the first time and does the obligatory tour, when we get to his music room, I point to any one of his amps and say, “But my amp goes to 11.”

5 points if you said Spinal Tap
6 if you actually said This is Spinal Tap
10 if you knew what I was going to quote before actually reading it.

Scene Eight

Husband and I are walking the dogs and they see another dog. It gets them anxious, and they are pulling on their leashes. I say to them, “Don’t look at the fat ass losers or freaks, look at me!”
Think about it… I am talking to my dogs…

5 points if you said Best in Show

**Extra Credit:
What kind of dog was the target of this comment (hint: she had a busy bee)?

Did you say a weimaraner? 2 more points.

What was her name?

Did you say Beatrice? 5 more points.

Ever slept with Cookie Guggelman? 100 points.

Scene Nine

Have you heard about this? Radio Shack fired 400 employees in a mass email. That shit’s cold. After I read the article, I emailed it to my friend and in the subject wrote,

“Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you! You’re cool… And fuck you!”

5 points if you said Half-Baked
10 points if you ever saw the movie… on weed

Scene Ten

Brother and I pulled up at Rainbow Sandals and outside their store is a display row of larger than life sandals, the largest of which is like 10 feet tall. I looked at Brother and said, “I believe I ordered the large! Hello!”

Come on… I bet you’ve seen this…

5 points if you said So I Married an Axe Murderer
7 if you use this quote whenever you see something oversized
10 if you read this and thought, I need to watch that again

That’s it, my friends. Time to tally up the results, and see “who is right… and who is dead.”

Ever heard of Aristotle? Plato? Socrates? Morons.

Assuming no one has wrecked the curve by sleeping with Cookie, this is where you fit in the world of movie quotes–

(35 and up) –
“God damn it, Gump! You’re a god damn genius! That is the most outstanding answer I have ever heard. You must have a goddamn IQ of 160.”

Congratulations. We can hang any time. Chances are no one else wants to be around us.

(0-34)
Where were you on that one, dipshit?

So, you didn’t catch all the references immediately. You needed some prodding, some hints, some extra credit. Who really needs to know these things anyway? Clearly not you. Hey, it’s probably because I didn’t test you on the right movies, right? I’m glad you know all the words to every Monty Python movie (are you an engineer?) or every John Hughes film (child of the 80s?). Now get over yourself.

(Negative)
You think you’re too cool for school, but I have a news flash for you, Walter Cronkite… you’re not.

Seriously, in the negatives? Dude, go out and sleep with Cookie.

On Football and Football Movies September 6, 2006

It’s football season.

Best Football Movie Ever

I grew up in Jacksonville, FL, and if you live(d) in the South, then you are a fan of football. Especially college football.

I’m a Fuh-Fuh-Football Player!

If you actually do hale from Jacksonville, FL itself, then you also support the Jacksonville Jaguars. It’s one of the undisclosed statements on drivers licenses issued in Duval County. I was in high school when the Jags came into being, and let me tell you, that was the best party Jacksonville ever saw until they hosted Superbowl 2005. The next big party will be when the Jags are actually in a Superbowl. It will happen. Oh yes, it will. And you will see me at said Superbowl. I will be there. Oh yes, I will.

This Jag Kitten is rearin’ to go to Superbowl 2007

So, back to college football. Three words for you: South Eastern Conference. That’s right, I’m talking about the SEC, baby – Alabama, Arkansas, Tennessee, Auburn, Georgia (bitches), LSU, Mississippi State, Ole Miss, South Carolina, Vanderbuilt, and the MOTHERFUCKING UNIVERSITY OF FLORIDA GATORS. FUCK. YEAH.

Is he wearing a hat that says Go Gators or Stomp ‘em Seminoles?
–No.
Doesn’t sound like my kinda guy.

I live in California now, and this state is lost on the whole college football thing. They are far too busy with getting vanity plates and building sexual innuendo laden power plants to be thinking about football. I know, I know, USC had a nice run at the top there, but the truth is, California is simply not the place to be for the die hard college football fan. And that’s not a bad thing.

If what had happened to USC last year (wuddup, Vince!) had happened to UF, my dad and brother would STILL be talking about it. Or rather, not talking about it. The losses are shameful secrets only brought up when you want to upset them.

Makes blowing a National Championship look good.

My brother was in town last week and he was going to Vegas to place some sports bets. In one of our many our drunken conversations, I made a joke about Florida’s 62-24 defeat at the hands of the Nebraska Cornhuskers in the 1996 Fiesta Bowl. He got pissed off and said, “Don’t even bring that up.” We had to get another pitcher of beer to overcome my faux pas.

This same brother once drove 550 miles from Jacksonville to New Orleans to visit me when I used to live there. He left Jax early Saturday morning to get to New Orleans with enough time to watch the second half of the Florida-Georgia game. Georgia won. My brother almost punched a hole in the wall (something he has actually done on other occasions), and my roommate seriously believed he was going to stomp a hole in our floor. I asked if he would like to go out to a bar and perhaps ‘not think about the game.’ His response was “I can’t think about anything else right now, I need to go home.” And he got in his car and DROVE 550 MILES BACK TO JAX. Even more ridiculously, when I told my dad, his response was, “What did you expect? They didn’t just lose. It was a bad game. They made a lot of mistakes.” Why did I even think my father wouldn’t defend my brother’s actions? My father, a man who last year admitted he stopped watching the Gators’ games because if they lost, he had trouble sleeping at night. He checks the scores now, and if they win, he might watch the highlights, but only if it was a well played win. When Steve Spurrier resigned, my brother 911-paged my dad at work. God forbid you should ever attend a live game with my dad. He’s the guy at the stadium who sits in his seat, holding a mini-TV in his hands so he can watch game coverage and not miss anything. He generally remains in his seat, no clapping, no whooping, no yelling, just sitting in his seat, watching the game, live and on TV. Best part of all? He enjoys doing this.

“Those are the ABCs of me!”

So, the above are just a few choice pieces in my future autobiography, Raised by Sports Fanatics. Whenever I meet sports fanatics, I never bat an eyelash. It’s in my blood to be around them. I secretly enjoy meeting them because I like to compare them to my family and determine whether mine is over the top or everyone really is a little too sports enthused. So far, I’ve met some Nebraska boys and a couple Steelers fans who could give big bro and dad (and the rest of my Gator clan) a run for their money, but no Californians have entered into the fray. I just found out that my friend’s brother-in-law gets angry and turns off the TV when the Lakers are playing poorly. I’d like to see him in action. He *might* enter into my stats. Got any stories of your own die hard fans? I’d love to hear ‘em.

Off to see Invincible…

I Heart This Man

P.S. FSU SUCKS.