Don't ask...it's been crazy. Let's just say, our absence involved Dinosaurs, some chest hair and well, other things inappopriate for children's eyes.
So it was Neil Diamond's half birthday a few days ago and I totally forgot to send you a card and fill your socks with Matzo ball soup in celebration. Hope you're not mad! Here's a little Neal to brighten your day anyway. This song makes me want to carry a torch barefoot into the night while the giant flag proudly waves overhead and the ocean covers the shore with huge foamy whitecaps and a majestic eagle soars and lets out a thunderous cry (CAAAAA!) and Neil's sparkly shirt guides all ships to safety and freedom. And liberty. And sandwiches that have chicken breasts instead of buns. God bless this country...
Friday, September 3, 2010
Monday, January 11, 2010
"Hey everybody, we're all gonna get laid
Alright alright alright! We’re finally back. Who missed us? Who missed spontaneous and unnecessary curse words being directed at you for no reason, bitches? Who missed miles of long, rambling sentences, made-up words, and largely pointless, bulleted lists? Well we’re back for good and thanks very much to Justin Stover for telling us we really were funny, even though I’m still quite sure that through all that benevolence and heroic beard hair, it was probably just manners…that’s besides the point. So in lieu of our billions of awesome stories and emotional adventures, strengthening us both physically and mentally, shaping strong, fierce women in the face of every adversity (with the exception of race, gender, religious affiliation, education, upbringing, stereotyping, etc), I’m just going to paraphrase 2009 for you real quick:
You know what? None of your business. But we all had a little dick on our chins at some point. So there.
So 2009 is over, and six days in, 2010 already has a best film (according to the radio, its 9, whatever that is). Glad that’s out of the way. Now if I could just kick this existential life crisis we’ll really be cooking…but I wanted to kiss off 2k9 at least a little, because some of the shit that happened this year is really unbelievable. The Press acts like the biggest news story of the year is the divorce of Jon and Kate, sorry Obama! The Red Wings take a bone-broke single-season shame spiral, everybody almost gets to call in dead with the incurable death flu, Jack White plays the drums with his penis, and Stephtendo DS finally moves upstairs.
Get ready to get a little shame on your shirts (unless you’re wearing a shame bib or have a shameWOW!), here is a little list of things that were embarrassingly awesome about 2009:
• The Lonely Island Incredibad. T Pain, Jack Black, and Julian Cassablancas (how we’ve missed you!) back up the lily-white punk thugs from SNL for an excellent satire album, complete with behind-the-scenes Padme and why the Space Olympics is the best idea ever. Spurting catch phrases all over the place like “its all about the Hamiltons baby,” “Like A Boss,” and of course “I’m on a boat, bitch!” this album is everything Sandberg needed to cement a job when SNL stops trying to censor him. Check out “Boombox” for life-lesson joy. Shortay!
• The ubiquitous touch screen cell phone. Everybody has that shit now. Thank god, finally a way to avoid talking to or making eye-contact with your friends that are near you, when the ones that aren’t are far more interesting! No, I don’t want to see your new app that makes you even more annoying when you try to show everybody your new app.
• Jacob. At least if this Twilight shit never goes away the rest of us girls who don’t read the books and prefer their men with a little color and tone and hair that doesn’t totally suck will have something all underage and ripply to oogle all creepy like while our eyes are glazed over and drool pools in our lower lip as the media continues it’s relentless assault. Vampires totally suck. Now somebody get that poor kid a towel! He’s always so wet!
• Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. This just really had to happen. Now that’s what I call a happy ending!
• The giant blue dong in the Watchmen. The movie was so-so, but we got there late on opening night and had to sit too close to the IMAX screen…to this day when I close my eyes I can still see it glowing…
• Just Haven’t Met You Yet by Michael Buble. Besides the fact that I think he wrote that about me, this infectious little number is adorable and the video is adorable and Buble is adorable and just when you thought W-lite played xmas music all year…I warn you though…if you decide to YouTube this based on my recommendation, it will be plastered into your skull for the next three weeks minimum. It’s like the awesome Canadian version of Montezuma’s revenge. My last trip to Family Fare, all I got was an artichoke and a dirty look from a thousand year old lady for taking all her raisins or something like that…some bitches get everything. I don’t even like raisins…
• Good Little Friday. Day off, sunshine, bottle of El Toro, Bubba, KP, Stephtendo, the sprinkler, all-you-can-eat lake perch, Mad Libs, Busch Lite, karaoke, Little Feat, and Jake Busey. I don’t think I missed anything…but Bubba? (grabs boob, pushes up) I have some bad news…
• Party in the USA by Miley Cyrus. Yes, it surprised me too. Picture this: 12:30 am New Years Day and the room is full of sweaty hammered hipsters wearing various levels of formal undress. They are dancing and blah blah blah, and the DJ plays this song. They went ape shit! Everybody was indeed throwing their hands up and bobbing their heads like yeah. Damn Miley! Your totally retarded party jam is actually awesome! Now how the hell does your cardigan make you a normal girl again?
• Star Trek the movie. Ha ha! You thought I was serious…nerd please.
• Sarah Palin. Man that bitch is rogue! I want to be rogue like her! She is so rogue and mavericky and stuff with her security and awesome five chapter manifesto about how magical it is to be rogue. Ready for her plan for world domination? A talk show. At least maybe the unwashed masses will be ready when the moose population of northern Alaska decide to annex Wasilla…just try it: Next time you sit down to a lovely plate of nachos or Hot Pockets or pigs-in-a-blankets, don’t just eat them, go rogue on that shit! Don’t just talk to the people at the bank, go rogue! Keep your cash in a coffee can under the floorboards of your trailer. The only way for America to move forward is to regress to the golden age of pioneering mountain men.
• Heavy Metal. I know it isn’t new, but you simply can’t beat watching your two dearest friends emerge from the pit SOAKED in blood and thirsty for more. GWAR ’08 was nothing compared to GWAR ’09. More blood, and more space jizz than you can see through. While, Cannibal Corpse is just like watching Dethklok live, and the etiquette within the pit is surprisingly civil. KP screams “Just Hit Me! AAAHHHH!” and these sweaty, tattooed crazy people are all like “sorry, sweetheart”. The balloon animals were just plain nice.
• Neil Diamond. He just is. And January 24 is his 69th (yeah!! fist pump!) birthday so we better see you all Diamond-And-Dashing and frolicking all over the West Side spreading the Gift of Neil to anyplace with a karaoke machine. Don’t forget your chest wig! More to come on this one…
• Scareyoke. I know we talked about this before so there is no excuse why we shouldn’t see you there. Just say the grossest thing you can possibly think of to your friendly server and there will either be a drink special or harassment case in it for you!
• ArtPrize.
• Our new kitty. His name is Soren and he is just an adorable little guy. We got him at Lollapalooza (thanks, Jesse!) and he’s blonde and wonderful. If you would like to send him a check, please contact us and we’ll hook you up with an address but we are in charge of making soup and knit goods for him, so please restrict your gifts to monetary items only. Thank you.
If you’ve made it all the way to the end of this list, you’ll be able to see why we needed TShirtSize:Awesome back…times is tough! Slim pickins! Well we’re going to try our best to recover some of the face that we lost in ’09 and make ’10 a little less super-lame. I have a list of nerds to pound that is 10 miles long. If you want to help me, jump on our little wagon and help de-lame this town! See you soon!
You know what? None of your business. But we all had a little dick on our chins at some point. So there.
So 2009 is over, and six days in, 2010 already has a best film (according to the radio, its 9, whatever that is). Glad that’s out of the way. Now if I could just kick this existential life crisis we’ll really be cooking…but I wanted to kiss off 2k9 at least a little, because some of the shit that happened this year is really unbelievable. The Press acts like the biggest news story of the year is the divorce of Jon and Kate, sorry Obama! The Red Wings take a bone-broke single-season shame spiral, everybody almost gets to call in dead with the incurable death flu, Jack White plays the drums with his penis, and Stephtendo DS finally moves upstairs.
Get ready to get a little shame on your shirts (unless you’re wearing a shame bib or have a shameWOW!), here is a little list of things that were embarrassingly awesome about 2009:
• The Lonely Island Incredibad. T Pain, Jack Black, and Julian Cassablancas (how we’ve missed you!) back up the lily-white punk thugs from SNL for an excellent satire album, complete with behind-the-scenes Padme and why the Space Olympics is the best idea ever. Spurting catch phrases all over the place like “its all about the Hamiltons baby,” “Like A Boss,” and of course “I’m on a boat, bitch!” this album is everything Sandberg needed to cement a job when SNL stops trying to censor him. Check out “Boombox” for life-lesson joy. Shortay!
• The ubiquitous touch screen cell phone. Everybody has that shit now. Thank god, finally a way to avoid talking to or making eye-contact with your friends that are near you, when the ones that aren’t are far more interesting! No, I don’t want to see your new app that makes you even more annoying when you try to show everybody your new app.
• Jacob. At least if this Twilight shit never goes away the rest of us girls who don’t read the books and prefer their men with a little color and tone and hair that doesn’t totally suck will have something all underage and ripply to oogle all creepy like while our eyes are glazed over and drool pools in our lower lip as the media continues it’s relentless assault. Vampires totally suck. Now somebody get that poor kid a towel! He’s always so wet!
• Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. This just really had to happen. Now that’s what I call a happy ending!
• The giant blue dong in the Watchmen. The movie was so-so, but we got there late on opening night and had to sit too close to the IMAX screen…to this day when I close my eyes I can still see it glowing…
• Just Haven’t Met You Yet by Michael Buble. Besides the fact that I think he wrote that about me, this infectious little number is adorable and the video is adorable and Buble is adorable and just when you thought W-lite played xmas music all year…I warn you though…if you decide to YouTube this based on my recommendation, it will be plastered into your skull for the next three weeks minimum. It’s like the awesome Canadian version of Montezuma’s revenge. My last trip to Family Fare, all I got was an artichoke and a dirty look from a thousand year old lady for taking all her raisins or something like that…some bitches get everything. I don’t even like raisins…
• Good Little Friday. Day off, sunshine, bottle of El Toro, Bubba, KP, Stephtendo, the sprinkler, all-you-can-eat lake perch, Mad Libs, Busch Lite, karaoke, Little Feat, and Jake Busey. I don’t think I missed anything…but Bubba? (grabs boob, pushes up) I have some bad news…
• Party in the USA by Miley Cyrus. Yes, it surprised me too. Picture this: 12:30 am New Years Day and the room is full of sweaty hammered hipsters wearing various levels of formal undress. They are dancing and blah blah blah, and the DJ plays this song. They went ape shit! Everybody was indeed throwing their hands up and bobbing their heads like yeah. Damn Miley! Your totally retarded party jam is actually awesome! Now how the hell does your cardigan make you a normal girl again?
• Star Trek the movie. Ha ha! You thought I was serious…nerd please.
• Sarah Palin. Man that bitch is rogue! I want to be rogue like her! She is so rogue and mavericky and stuff with her security and awesome five chapter manifesto about how magical it is to be rogue. Ready for her plan for world domination? A talk show. At least maybe the unwashed masses will be ready when the moose population of northern Alaska decide to annex Wasilla…just try it: Next time you sit down to a lovely plate of nachos or Hot Pockets or pigs-in-a-blankets, don’t just eat them, go rogue on that shit! Don’t just talk to the people at the bank, go rogue! Keep your cash in a coffee can under the floorboards of your trailer. The only way for America to move forward is to regress to the golden age of pioneering mountain men.
• Heavy Metal. I know it isn’t new, but you simply can’t beat watching your two dearest friends emerge from the pit SOAKED in blood and thirsty for more. GWAR ’08 was nothing compared to GWAR ’09. More blood, and more space jizz than you can see through. While, Cannibal Corpse is just like watching Dethklok live, and the etiquette within the pit is surprisingly civil. KP screams “Just Hit Me! AAAHHHH!” and these sweaty, tattooed crazy people are all like “sorry, sweetheart”. The balloon animals were just plain nice.
• Neil Diamond. He just is. And January 24 is his 69th (yeah!! fist pump!) birthday so we better see you all Diamond-And-Dashing and frolicking all over the West Side spreading the Gift of Neil to anyplace with a karaoke machine. Don’t forget your chest wig! More to come on this one…
• Scareyoke. I know we talked about this before so there is no excuse why we shouldn’t see you there. Just say the grossest thing you can possibly think of to your friendly server and there will either be a drink special or harassment case in it for you!
• ArtPrize.
• Our new kitty. His name is Soren and he is just an adorable little guy. We got him at Lollapalooza (thanks, Jesse!) and he’s blonde and wonderful. If you would like to send him a check, please contact us and we’ll hook you up with an address but we are in charge of making soup and knit goods for him, so please restrict your gifts to monetary items only. Thank you.
If you’ve made it all the way to the end of this list, you’ll be able to see why we needed TShirtSize:Awesome back…times is tough! Slim pickins! Well we’re going to try our best to recover some of the face that we lost in ’09 and make ’10 a little less super-lame. I have a list of nerds to pound that is 10 miles long. If you want to help me, jump on our little wagon and help de-lame this town! See you soon!
Thursday, September 24, 2009
“Your highness, when I said that you are like a stream of bat's piss, I only mean that you shine out like a shaft of gold when all around it is dark"
Hear ye! Hear ye! Good morrow strapping gentlemen! Stef and KP straighten their nerd caps, lace up thine olde (and stinking!) tights, and make haste for the annual Reniassance Festival in odious Holly Michigan. And it was Armed Forces day. And Biker day...didn’t see one soldier. Or biker.
Hath ye lain eyes on this creepy nerd shit? I didn’t even feel comfortable laughing because they were so for real. I choked down more giggles than the cast of High School Musical chokes down…nevermind. I’m just really glad we brought beer.
I feel like I should clarify a minute, we had an experienced escort. We didn’t just up and decide to go do this, and while KP might be a nerd, she isn’t even CLOSE to this magnitude. We knew a guy who could get us in. After a long night of no way!’s and nuh-uh’s in response to Austin telling me what actually goes on in one of these things, it was decided that in the spirit of adventure we make a day of it. Austin at 10am: we’re bringing beer. Driving up to the entrance of the fair, Austin had to comment to all in the backseat "Act like you belong here and don't laugh" which was promptly followed by me and Trotter giggling uncontrollably at the guy dressed like Merlin walking around the parking lot. We drag our sorry asses out of the car and head straight to the fair, we walk in and KP immediately goes "I need a beer right now".
And how glad I was that we did. Here’s the deal with the Holly Renaissance Festival: over four acres of permanent structures including a complete castle and fort, a children’s dell, bars, food venues, stages for all the various shows, and about 100 shops for craftsmen to sell everything from leather goods to battle axes to honey sticks. It has been operating for 30something years. It’s fancy. I was picturing a bunch of tents and booths with portable fairground food and chubby weirdos skipping around in corsets and tights. This was MUCH BIGGER, and oddly more real. These people went to the 9’s for this getup. There were about 1000 adults there (grown-ups, mind you) all dressed right to the hilt in these incredibly labor intensive costumes. Strange enough, I was expecting far more “tourists” like myself walking around and gawking at the freakshow. But there were a TON of people dressed to look the part. Maybe more than half. Now is time for a sip of beer. Try not to swallow funny when lord Grimmiere or something accosts you with a hand puppet of Queen Elizabeth and a 100% RIDICULOUS accent that he kept slipping in an out of. He’s serious when he says “good morrow!”, so you have to keep a straight face. Pbphhhhhhthh.
The shows were something in and of themselves. They pick the more convincing dorks to recruit viewers for Spanish dancers, comedy routines, sword fighting routines, sword fighting comedy routines, gypsy dancers, belly dancers, music…you get the drift. Poor Trotter (or Veronica, as he shall be referred to from now on) got dragged on stage by the popular Washing Well Wenches and had the dorks positively eating out of his hands. He was great. So between sips of beer and stifled laughs you meander over to ye olde giant turkey leg stand and have yourself a giant turkey leg (every bit as hilarious as it sounds. Delicious too!) and check out some of the wild life, maybe witness some horrible actors performing horrible comedy, or sword fighting, or sword fighting comedy or whatever that kid dressed in leather told us to watch. It’s damn hard for me to explain how real this all is. Then, when you’ve wiped the gristle from your chin and washed it all down with a few blessedly sedating meads, it’s time for the full-contact jousting.
Surprisingly, while it’s the biggest draw (where were all the bikers, Austin???) for the fair, the jousting was pretty lame, and very obvious about the staging. The knights were all in full mail (which was cool) but watching them take a foam-rubber staff to the chest going half-speed in front of some kind of princess in a tower (cause, you know, they had one built) could have been SO MUCH cooler than it actually was. Come on sir Auric, I want to hear some insults being tossed around! Gimme a little of thine medieval trash talking. Shut that swine-born strumpet up! Call him a lily-livered breath of dog! Call his mother a goat-mouthed whore! Don’t pick some little kid out of the audience to be your girlfriend (eew) and then proceed to get your ass fake-kicked in a poorly executed display of D-grade stunts. The jousting was kind of a bust.
And there was actually a queen, and a court, and witches and pirates, and an old white samurai, and barbarians and Mongols and shit. Okay. I am all for escapism. I like fiction and sweet action movies about dinosaurs and debating conspiracy theories and Jimmy Buffet and all that stuff, but this went a bit far. Why in the hell would you want to live in the middle ages anyway? there were no matches, mirrors, deodorant, Gameboy DS, helicopters, can coolers, weapons made out of bike chains, Crystal Pepsi, muscle cars, cutoff jeans, PEZ dispensers, temporary tattoos, record player/CD player combos, cheesy gordita crunches, snap bracelets, and Reebok Pump sneakers. They were savages. Sure, the kindly folk of medieval times lived in a land where magic was real and full of grandiose heroes and chivalry, mythical creatures roamed free and granted wishes to lonely travelers, virginity was still a virtue, and, oh yeah, more than 2/3rds of the population of England and eastern Europe was wiped out by the plague.
Alright. So I can’t completely wrap my mouth around the fair completely (yeah, I know…), I will say that we ended up having tons of fun. A pleasurable time was had by all, and while I’ll never go back, the company was top shelf and we ended up having a blast. Friends go see that shit, friends don’t allow each other to get involved (though they’ll probably send Mike an invitation by traveling minstrel, and the show shall forthwith be called the Washing Well Wenches and Veronica show). If you’re really into gross tits and primitive weapons, the Holly Renaissance Fair is for you. If you think the people who like gross tits and primitive weapons are funny, than the Holly Renaissance Fair is for you too. Just don’t laugh in their faces. And bring beer. Thank you, Austin, for making that day rule.
Hath ye lain eyes on this creepy nerd shit? I didn’t even feel comfortable laughing because they were so for real. I choked down more giggles than the cast of High School Musical chokes down…nevermind. I’m just really glad we brought beer.
I feel like I should clarify a minute, we had an experienced escort. We didn’t just up and decide to go do this, and while KP might be a nerd, she isn’t even CLOSE to this magnitude. We knew a guy who could get us in. After a long night of no way!’s and nuh-uh’s in response to Austin telling me what actually goes on in one of these things, it was decided that in the spirit of adventure we make a day of it. Austin at 10am: we’re bringing beer. Driving up to the entrance of the fair, Austin had to comment to all in the backseat "Act like you belong here and don't laugh" which was promptly followed by me and Trotter giggling uncontrollably at the guy dressed like Merlin walking around the parking lot. We drag our sorry asses out of the car and head straight to the fair, we walk in and KP immediately goes "I need a beer right now".
And how glad I was that we did. Here’s the deal with the Holly Renaissance Festival: over four acres of permanent structures including a complete castle and fort, a children’s dell, bars, food venues, stages for all the various shows, and about 100 shops for craftsmen to sell everything from leather goods to battle axes to honey sticks. It has been operating for 30something years. It’s fancy. I was picturing a bunch of tents and booths with portable fairground food and chubby weirdos skipping around in corsets and tights. This was MUCH BIGGER, and oddly more real. These people went to the 9’s for this getup. There were about 1000 adults there (grown-ups, mind you) all dressed right to the hilt in these incredibly labor intensive costumes. Strange enough, I was expecting far more “tourists” like myself walking around and gawking at the freakshow. But there were a TON of people dressed to look the part. Maybe more than half. Now is time for a sip of beer. Try not to swallow funny when lord Grimmiere or something accosts you with a hand puppet of Queen Elizabeth and a 100% RIDICULOUS accent that he kept slipping in an out of. He’s serious when he says “good morrow!”, so you have to keep a straight face. Pbphhhhhhthh.
The shows were something in and of themselves. They pick the more convincing dorks to recruit viewers for Spanish dancers, comedy routines, sword fighting routines, sword fighting comedy routines, gypsy dancers, belly dancers, music…you get the drift. Poor Trotter (or Veronica, as he shall be referred to from now on) got dragged on stage by the popular Washing Well Wenches and had the dorks positively eating out of his hands. He was great. So between sips of beer and stifled laughs you meander over to ye olde giant turkey leg stand and have yourself a giant turkey leg (every bit as hilarious as it sounds. Delicious too!) and check out some of the wild life, maybe witness some horrible actors performing horrible comedy, or sword fighting, or sword fighting comedy or whatever that kid dressed in leather told us to watch. It’s damn hard for me to explain how real this all is. Then, when you’ve wiped the gristle from your chin and washed it all down with a few blessedly sedating meads, it’s time for the full-contact jousting.
Surprisingly, while it’s the biggest draw (where were all the bikers, Austin???) for the fair, the jousting was pretty lame, and very obvious about the staging. The knights were all in full mail (which was cool) but watching them take a foam-rubber staff to the chest going half-speed in front of some kind of princess in a tower (cause, you know, they had one built) could have been SO MUCH cooler than it actually was. Come on sir Auric, I want to hear some insults being tossed around! Gimme a little of thine medieval trash talking. Shut that swine-born strumpet up! Call him a lily-livered breath of dog! Call his mother a goat-mouthed whore! Don’t pick some little kid out of the audience to be your girlfriend (eew) and then proceed to get your ass fake-kicked in a poorly executed display of D-grade stunts. The jousting was kind of a bust.
And there was actually a queen, and a court, and witches and pirates, and an old white samurai, and barbarians and Mongols and shit. Okay. I am all for escapism. I like fiction and sweet action movies about dinosaurs and debating conspiracy theories and Jimmy Buffet and all that stuff, but this went a bit far. Why in the hell would you want to live in the middle ages anyway? there were no matches, mirrors, deodorant, Gameboy DS, helicopters, can coolers, weapons made out of bike chains, Crystal Pepsi, muscle cars, cutoff jeans, PEZ dispensers, temporary tattoos, record player/CD player combos, cheesy gordita crunches, snap bracelets, and Reebok Pump sneakers. They were savages. Sure, the kindly folk of medieval times lived in a land where magic was real and full of grandiose heroes and chivalry, mythical creatures roamed free and granted wishes to lonely travelers, virginity was still a virtue, and, oh yeah, more than 2/3rds of the population of England and eastern Europe was wiped out by the plague.
Alright. So I can’t completely wrap my mouth around the fair completely (yeah, I know…), I will say that we ended up having tons of fun. A pleasurable time was had by all, and while I’ll never go back, the company was top shelf and we ended up having a blast. Friends go see that shit, friends don’t allow each other to get involved (though they’ll probably send Mike an invitation by traveling minstrel, and the show shall forthwith be called the Washing Well Wenches and Veronica show). If you’re really into gross tits and primitive weapons, the Holly Renaissance Fair is for you. If you think the people who like gross tits and primitive weapons are funny, than the Holly Renaissance Fair is for you too. Just don’t laugh in their faces. And bring beer. Thank you, Austin, for making that day rule.
Friday, September 4, 2009
"Before we start, I'd just like to say the campers you're about to see suck dick! But nevertheless, please welcome them."
Here it is….the girls of TShirt Size Awesome are back online!!! Bitches!!! And we’ve been busy!
So I know it looks like we’ve been in hiding since the Wings lost the cup (which we won’t even start to talk about…we seriously were in hiding for a while...even typing this is bringing me back to a very black place that my therapist told me I must not return to…oh god…) anyway, old KP and Stef were in hiding for a while but we finally pulled our black veils off and came outside (blinding! But why has it been so cold this summer???) and typical of us girls, did a bunch of awesome shit anyway. I don’t even know where to begin it’s been so awesome. Here are few of the lessons that we learned:
1) Unsalted Roasted Almonds. Unsalted. Roasted. Almonds.
2) Cadillacs and Dinosaurs. Just look it up.
3) The good people of Indiana really are not good people. They are really idiot assholes who can’t fix cars and are probably at home right now trying to fellache themselves even though it’s physically impossible. Indiana sucks.
4) Chicago, namely Millennium Park and Grant Park (Lollapalooza ROCKED) are cool, even if you have to drive through Indiana, which sucks.
5) The wings are gross at Quaker Steak and Lube. But the name is awfully clever.
6) Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. If you don’t read books, and especially if you think that Jane Austin was really just a propaganda ad produced by tampon companies to sell more tampons, than you should read this book. And remove your tampon because you could seriously use it to thwart the onslaught of the undead for long enough to put some serious steel between you.
7) I am undesirable unless you’re half-gay, and KP’s bf doesn’t have a car. Not a lot of wiener coming out of that equation…ah shit.
8) Don’t eat a 5/3rd burger. No matter who you are or who’s watching you on TV. I mean…gross.
9) Geocaching. Look it up because geocaching=superfun even though we only found 1 so far. Look up the one about how East Grand Rapids used to be a giant amusement park called Ramona Park that housed gambling halls, burlesque shows, and prostitutes as well as a big roller coaster and caramel corn stand. Take that, stupid lady in the black BMW van thing that cut me off in the parking lot of D&W the other day. It’s gonna cost extra for your stylist to get all that sin and depravity out of your hair. Ha!
10) Tequila during the day can be really fun (and will probably lead to you getting your picture taken with an E list celebrity who knows the surviving members of Little Feat!). Unlimited lake perch…not so much a good idea. The perch was delicious though. Ugh.
11) Probably you should pay your gas bill once in a while, loser.
12) It is really fun to spray Jesse with a hose.
13) David Bowie. Let that be a lesson to you.
And I’m sure there are others, but we aren’t really that good at…you know…learning things. Plus we were too busy sipping classic cocktails on a sandy beach or jetting off to the cliffs of Machu Pichu or whatever (working.) to really remember a lot. Or maybe it was the drugs. Ohh yeah…
So I know it looks like we’ve been in hiding since the Wings lost the cup (which we won’t even start to talk about…we seriously were in hiding for a while...even typing this is bringing me back to a very black place that my therapist told me I must not return to…oh god…) anyway, old KP and Stef were in hiding for a while but we finally pulled our black veils off and came outside (blinding! But why has it been so cold this summer???) and typical of us girls, did a bunch of awesome shit anyway. I don’t even know where to begin it’s been so awesome. Here are few of the lessons that we learned:
1) Unsalted Roasted Almonds. Unsalted. Roasted. Almonds.
2) Cadillacs and Dinosaurs. Just look it up.
3) The good people of Indiana really are not good people. They are really idiot assholes who can’t fix cars and are probably at home right now trying to fellache themselves even though it’s physically impossible. Indiana sucks.
4) Chicago, namely Millennium Park and Grant Park (Lollapalooza ROCKED) are cool, even if you have to drive through Indiana, which sucks.
5) The wings are gross at Quaker Steak and Lube. But the name is awfully clever.
6) Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. If you don’t read books, and especially if you think that Jane Austin was really just a propaganda ad produced by tampon companies to sell more tampons, than you should read this book. And remove your tampon because you could seriously use it to thwart the onslaught of the undead for long enough to put some serious steel between you.
7) I am undesirable unless you’re half-gay, and KP’s bf doesn’t have a car. Not a lot of wiener coming out of that equation…ah shit.
8) Don’t eat a 5/3rd burger. No matter who you are or who’s watching you on TV. I mean…gross.
9) Geocaching. Look it up because geocaching=superfun even though we only found 1 so far. Look up the one about how East Grand Rapids used to be a giant amusement park called Ramona Park that housed gambling halls, burlesque shows, and prostitutes as well as a big roller coaster and caramel corn stand. Take that, stupid lady in the black BMW van thing that cut me off in the parking lot of D&W the other day. It’s gonna cost extra for your stylist to get all that sin and depravity out of your hair. Ha!
10) Tequila during the day can be really fun (and will probably lead to you getting your picture taken with an E list celebrity who knows the surviving members of Little Feat!). Unlimited lake perch…not so much a good idea. The perch was delicious though. Ugh.
11) Probably you should pay your gas bill once in a while, loser.
12) It is really fun to spray Jesse with a hose.
13) David Bowie. Let that be a lesson to you.
And I’m sure there are others, but we aren’t really that good at…you know…learning things. Plus we were too busy sipping classic cocktails on a sandy beach or jetting off to the cliffs of Machu Pichu or whatever (working.) to really remember a lot. Or maybe it was the drugs. Ohh yeah…
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
You guys might not know this, but I consider myself a bit of a loner. I tend to think of myself as a one-man wolf pack
May 7th?!?!?! OMG WTF TXT?????????
Where the hell have we been? I was pretty sure that robot was just flicking me off but apparently he meant business.
Anyways, is anyone still out there??
Should we give you a little something, something??
Here's a quick what for as to where, what and who we have been doing in the last two months.
KP had a birthday
Stef is currently having a birthday (today!!)
KP has gotten herself a permanent John, one that some might actually call a boyfriend.
Stef's has just contracted a few more STD's. Her checklist of "Sexually Transmitted Disease I need to get before I die" has gotten significantly shorter.
The Red Wings lost the Stanely Cup, then lost Hossa, Conklin, Hudler, Kopecky and Samuelsson. Sad.
KP is taking a trip to Nerd Con in San Diego next week and will talk non stop about it afterwards.
Stef turned 42 today. Still lives at home with her cats, and still blatantly gropes teenage ass as often as she can.
Scareoke is still going strong.
Anything else?? What would you, our reader, like to know? Anybody? Hello??
Where the hell have we been? I was pretty sure that robot was just flicking me off but apparently he meant business.
Anyways, is anyone still out there??
Should we give you a little something, something??
Here's a quick what for as to where, what and who we have been doing in the last two months.
KP had a birthday
Stef is currently having a birthday (today!!)
KP has gotten herself a permanent John, one that some might actually call a boyfriend.
Stef's has just contracted a few more STD's. Her checklist of "Sexually Transmitted Disease I need to get before I die" has gotten significantly shorter.
The Red Wings lost the Stanely Cup, then lost Hossa, Conklin, Hudler, Kopecky and Samuelsson. Sad.
KP is taking a trip to Nerd Con in San Diego next week and will talk non stop about it afterwards.
Stef turned 42 today. Still lives at home with her cats, and still blatantly gropes teenage ass as often as she can.
Scareoke is still going strong.
Anything else?? What would you, our reader, like to know? Anybody? Hello??
Thursday, May 7, 2009
"I'm freakin pumped! I've been drinking green tea all goddamn day!"
I’m actually writing this one hour from Game 4 Round 2 and I’m predicting right now that Nedermeyer or that FUCKING REDICULOUS bald-headed troll-doll looking ref from Tuesday is going to have to be carried out on a stretcher or in several Petrie dishes by the time our boys get through with him. They should really give Marian Hossa a gun. Or a Samurai sword. Or a monkey with a Samurai sword and a gun. Badass. I actually wrote a song about it, in fact. Stuff like this is always better visualized in song, especially with sweet 80’s synth riffs.
Sung with a Swedish/Russian/Czeckoslovakian accent to the tune of 99 Luftballons by Nena.
You and I in a little pawn shop, bought Hossa a gun with some money we got
Set him free, game four, round two, with flack jackets just for me and you
In the locker room, home team’s side, Scott Neidermeyer sits with a gleam in his eye
Getting massage from a towel boy as 99 Detroit Red Wings skate by.
99 Detroit Red Wings, sharpening their hockey skates
panic boys, they’re warming up
up and down the hockey rink.
Ozzy stretches out his thigh
Rafalski prepares to punch someone in the eye
Hudler’s down for a little fun
And Marian Hossa has a gun.
99 Red hockey gods
break away two minutes in
Neidermeyer creeps around
to poach their shots behind the goal
two interferences don’t get called
an off-sides and a penalty
Hossa knocks one in off his glove
and the stupid ref says he doesn’t see.
99 Red Angry Men
Can’t believe they haven’t tied it
Datsyuk loses his freaking head
Zeterberg talks crazy shit
Pads are flying fans are crying
The ref was straight up fucking lying
Hossa reaches in his pants
As 99 Detroit Red Wings go by.
99 cops flooding in
ready for a hostage crisis,
it’s all over and we’re sitting pretty
in this shame-filled Disney city
when Hossa’s hand came from his pants,
it wasn’t heat that he was packin’
faced with his gigantic *censored *
they hung their heads and walked away…
in shame, of course. From what I hear it’s Hossa who should be called “the Mule.” You were robbed, buddy. Do you know what happens to people that rob people? Cause’ I do. I know what happens ‘cause I’ve seen both Kung Fu and Walker Texas Ranger.
Round
House
Kick,
that’s all I’m saying.
Sung with a Swedish/Russian/Czeckoslovakian accent to the tune of 99 Luftballons by Nena.
You and I in a little pawn shop, bought Hossa a gun with some money we got
Set him free, game four, round two, with flack jackets just for me and you
In the locker room, home team’s side, Scott Neidermeyer sits with a gleam in his eye
Getting massage from a towel boy as 99 Detroit Red Wings skate by.
99 Detroit Red Wings, sharpening their hockey skates
panic boys, they’re warming up
up and down the hockey rink.
Ozzy stretches out his thigh
Rafalski prepares to punch someone in the eye
Hudler’s down for a little fun
And Marian Hossa has a gun.
99 Red hockey gods
break away two minutes in
Neidermeyer creeps around
to poach their shots behind the goal
two interferences don’t get called
an off-sides and a penalty
Hossa knocks one in off his glove
and the stupid ref says he doesn’t see.
99 Red Angry Men
Can’t believe they haven’t tied it
Datsyuk loses his freaking head
Zeterberg talks crazy shit
Pads are flying fans are crying
The ref was straight up fucking lying
Hossa reaches in his pants
As 99 Detroit Red Wings go by.
99 cops flooding in
ready for a hostage crisis,
it’s all over and we’re sitting pretty
in this shame-filled Disney city
when Hossa’s hand came from his pants,
it wasn’t heat that he was packin’
faced with his gigantic *censored *
they hung their heads and walked away…
in shame, of course. From what I hear it’s Hossa who should be called “the Mule.” You were robbed, buddy. Do you know what happens to people that rob people? Cause’ I do. I know what happens ‘cause I’ve seen both Kung Fu and Walker Texas Ranger.
Round
House
Kick,
that’s all I’m saying.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
"You know how when you grab a woman's breast... it feels like... a bag of sand."
Well well babies, let’s blow the lid off this playoffs season already! Way to school ‘em Red Wings! Check this out quick:
1) Welcome on board for 11 more years, Johan Franzen! Ken Holland, in addition to being a primo general manager and all around excellent awesome dude, is a total genius. Now give me Hossa! Maybe even Hudler!
2) Two words: beard season (siiigh)
3) Yes, there is a real picture of me and Darren McCarty out there.
But unfortunately for everyone, much, much, graver news has just crossed my desk (and by crossed I mean somebody just left it on there with no post-it note, referendum, or paper clip. And there is a coffee ring right on here. Temps, I tell ya). Virgins who just got married and seventeen year old future prostitutes who think they’re doing their “guys” a favor: listen up. COSMOPOLITAN MAGAZINE IS NO PLACE TO GET SEX TIPS!!! Not only are they the same exact ones every issue since the days when sleeping around was considered “modern” and to be kinky was to shave your beave down to a scraggly little patch, but they aren’t even good. Here’s a few from the most recent list of “ways to make your man melt” or whatever stupid vernacular they’ve managed to drool out this week:
Be Just as Gung Ho for Sex as a Guy
According to a survey in Australian Cosmo, 38 percent of readers have gotten it on with a guy within 24 hours of meeting." By thrusting your hips up and down, placing your hands on his butt, pulling him into you and kissing him hard, you can direct the action.. That's not to say you shouldn't go for a ride. Try pushing him onto a chair, unzipping his pants, going down on him for a few seconds, then climbing on. He won't know what hit him, but he'll be happy as hell. For the ultimate in rough 'n' ready fun, try one of Cosmo readers' favorite bed games, called the Randy Wrestling Roll. Start by lying on your side facing each other, with your thigh flung over his hip, and guide his penis inside you, then entangle your arms and legs and start rolling around on the bed or carpet as you thrust into each other. The goal? See who can end up on top most often — but in this game, everybody wins.
Seriously? The one tip that I didn’t already know from every film, television, and book I’ve ever seen featuring business time, that wrestling thing, that isn’t even sexy. Eew, in fact, no way. And that other stuff about grabbing his penis and kissing him hard??? There isn’t a culture that ever made it past two people in the whole world who doesn’t know that stuff. And there’s more.
Push Your Booty Boundaries
You can steam things up at home by moving outside the bedroom and doing it on top of a sturdy table kitchen counter, bathroom sink, or hood of a car that's parked in your garage. Things get even hotter in Greece, where they boldly go where most cultures are too shy to venture. "Both men and women here enjoy anal sex, and no one considers it a big deal," says deputy editor of Greek Cosmo, Margarita Michelakou. Like bringing sex toys to bed or using flavored lubes, anal sex is just another option for spicing things up.
Another giant duh. Spice it up by moving to the kitchen? Whoo boy! Lets not get carried away! Even if you’re observing the roommate rule and not getting busy where the other one eats/sits/washes dishes, I bet any one of us could come up with more exciting places. And sex toys? Even the oldest trick in the book isn’t that obvious. So, since this kind of stuff is what all you virgins and newlyweds have to go on when exploring what Mystery calls the “Venuvian arts” (man, what a tool), Me and KP here are going to do you all a favor and compile a little list of T Shirt Size:Awesome sex tips that might actually work (pardon me, this might be a little candid for any of you who might have had a shred of respect for us before):
1) Compare his performance in the sack to an animal. Loudly. If you’re pleased; a tiger, gorilla, alligator, or T Rex are good options. If you are displeased; a piglet, parakeet, or broccoli usually get the point across.
2) Flavored lube, blah blah blah. How about you try orange marmalade, sausage gravy, or Tabasco sauce, you giant baby.
3) Generally, a man will do your bidding if you emasculate him enough, both in public and in times of intimacy. Unless your bidding is for him to marry you. Or like you. Or take you seriously.
4) It is okay for a woman to initiate sex, but don’t give that shit away for free, girls. $25 dollars an hour is both reasonable and fair.
5) When you’re all in the middle of it, don’t ask me. Tell me. “Can I kiss you?” is completely sissy and inappropriate.
6) Every fella out there says they appreciate a lady who wants her hair pulled a little. So fellas? Don’t get weirded out when a lady tells you to pull her freaking hair already. Jeez.
7) While the occasional talking is expected to some extent, avoid chatter and Chit-chat. Don’t talk about dinner, doctor visits, or your partner’s sister's abilities in the sack. Not cool.
8) Some potential dinner conversations that might turn a lady on: your tool belt, your love of cooking, or that time you saved a thousand kittens from a burning orphanage (but it’s no big deal). Possible dinner conversation turn-offs: how awesome you are at everything, how wasted you got, how wasted you are, your mother’s cancer, and anything you ever read in Cosmopolitan Magazine.
9) Sex in the City isn’t anything like sex in the country. It’s dustier, grainier, and the people are less attractive.
10) While it’s nearly unavoidable not to picture Burt Reynolds in the throes of passion, don’t call him Burt Reynolds, unless he really is Burt Reynolds. Usually mentioning Burt in the sack ends in a conversation about how awesome Smokey and the Bandit is, which is fine, but again, not sexy.
11) The kitchen, bathroom sink, or the hood of a car are fine, but try these smacktastic locations: bait shop, preschool, port-o-john, or combination baitshoppreschoolportojohn.
12) Busting out of the bathroom dressed like Han Solo is A-OKAY. Busting out of the bathroom dressed like Chewbacca is A-OKAY. Looking like Chewbacca without a costume is a little yucky.
13) Names and the shouting of names can be sticky wickets. Write it on the back of your hand to avoid an awkward situation.
14) Hot dogs, hoagies, burritos, Popsicles, bologna, French bread, and pickles are all shaped like penises, so make sure your lady eats one of each on every date to get her all greased up and in the mood.
15) Please remember, a little uncomfortable is fun at first, and above all, you’re both already naked, so what is there to be shy about? You’re both there to, so have a little fun.
And ladies? In reference to Cosmopolitan Magazine, ever notice that while you’re sippin’ on your double iced skinny soy with whip during a break from your profesh (we should totally plan a vacay by the way, me and my peeps need to do some serious chillaxin’) and flipping through this month’s totally amazing issue of Cosmo (referred to by themselves as “the bible”, if I EVER hear anybody I know do that, slap city, bitch) featuring some bland starlet with one hand on her hip and one hand on the top of her head, smiling blankly through her blonde highlights on the cover, that THAT MAGAZINE HAS BEEN EXACTLY THE SAME ISSUE EVERY MONTH FOR SINCE IT’S CREATION? Ever notice that? How the embarrassing moments and the articles about fun females (she totally works sixty hours and can somehow balance that with cribbing amazing threads, making her man melt, and drinking 300 appletinis per week!), clothes, and whatever else nonsensical fodder in between Candie’s ads is always the exact same shit every time? Do they really think that’s helping anyone? OMG!!!!
Saying things like “peeps” “profesh” “vacay” “crib” “amazing” “man candy” “nooky” “cannoodle” and “convo” do not make you sound intelligent, fun, or fearless. They make you sound ridiculous. Everybody else, you can thank me later. Love!
1) Welcome on board for 11 more years, Johan Franzen! Ken Holland, in addition to being a primo general manager and all around excellent awesome dude, is a total genius. Now give me Hossa! Maybe even Hudler!
2) Two words: beard season (siiigh)
3) Yes, there is a real picture of me and Darren McCarty out there.
But unfortunately for everyone, much, much, graver news has just crossed my desk (and by crossed I mean somebody just left it on there with no post-it note, referendum, or paper clip. And there is a coffee ring right on here. Temps, I tell ya). Virgins who just got married and seventeen year old future prostitutes who think they’re doing their “guys” a favor: listen up. COSMOPOLITAN MAGAZINE IS NO PLACE TO GET SEX TIPS!!! Not only are they the same exact ones every issue since the days when sleeping around was considered “modern” and to be kinky was to shave your beave down to a scraggly little patch, but they aren’t even good. Here’s a few from the most recent list of “ways to make your man melt” or whatever stupid vernacular they’ve managed to drool out this week:
Be Just as Gung Ho for Sex as a Guy
According to a survey in Australian Cosmo, 38 percent of readers have gotten it on with a guy within 24 hours of meeting." By thrusting your hips up and down, placing your hands on his butt, pulling him into you and kissing him hard, you can direct the action.. That's not to say you shouldn't go for a ride. Try pushing him onto a chair, unzipping his pants, going down on him for a few seconds, then climbing on. He won't know what hit him, but he'll be happy as hell. For the ultimate in rough 'n' ready fun, try one of Cosmo readers' favorite bed games, called the Randy Wrestling Roll. Start by lying on your side facing each other, with your thigh flung over his hip, and guide his penis inside you, then entangle your arms and legs and start rolling around on the bed or carpet as you thrust into each other. The goal? See who can end up on top most often — but in this game, everybody wins.
Seriously? The one tip that I didn’t already know from every film, television, and book I’ve ever seen featuring business time, that wrestling thing, that isn’t even sexy. Eew, in fact, no way. And that other stuff about grabbing his penis and kissing him hard??? There isn’t a culture that ever made it past two people in the whole world who doesn’t know that stuff. And there’s more.
Push Your Booty Boundaries
You can steam things up at home by moving outside the bedroom and doing it on top of a sturdy table kitchen counter, bathroom sink, or hood of a car that's parked in your garage. Things get even hotter in Greece, where they boldly go where most cultures are too shy to venture. "Both men and women here enjoy anal sex, and no one considers it a big deal," says deputy editor of Greek Cosmo, Margarita Michelakou. Like bringing sex toys to bed or using flavored lubes, anal sex is just another option for spicing things up.
Another giant duh. Spice it up by moving to the kitchen? Whoo boy! Lets not get carried away! Even if you’re observing the roommate rule and not getting busy where the other one eats/sits/washes dishes, I bet any one of us could come up with more exciting places. And sex toys? Even the oldest trick in the book isn’t that obvious. So, since this kind of stuff is what all you virgins and newlyweds have to go on when exploring what Mystery calls the “Venuvian arts” (man, what a tool), Me and KP here are going to do you all a favor and compile a little list of T Shirt Size:Awesome sex tips that might actually work (pardon me, this might be a little candid for any of you who might have had a shred of respect for us before):
1) Compare his performance in the sack to an animal. Loudly. If you’re pleased; a tiger, gorilla, alligator, or T Rex are good options. If you are displeased; a piglet, parakeet, or broccoli usually get the point across.
2) Flavored lube, blah blah blah. How about you try orange marmalade, sausage gravy, or Tabasco sauce, you giant baby.
3) Generally, a man will do your bidding if you emasculate him enough, both in public and in times of intimacy. Unless your bidding is for him to marry you. Or like you. Or take you seriously.
4) It is okay for a woman to initiate sex, but don’t give that shit away for free, girls. $25 dollars an hour is both reasonable and fair.
5) When you’re all in the middle of it, don’t ask me. Tell me. “Can I kiss you?” is completely sissy and inappropriate.
6) Every fella out there says they appreciate a lady who wants her hair pulled a little. So fellas? Don’t get weirded out when a lady tells you to pull her freaking hair already. Jeez.
7) While the occasional talking is expected to some extent, avoid chatter and Chit-chat. Don’t talk about dinner, doctor visits, or your partner’s sister's abilities in the sack. Not cool.
8) Some potential dinner conversations that might turn a lady on: your tool belt, your love of cooking, or that time you saved a thousand kittens from a burning orphanage (but it’s no big deal). Possible dinner conversation turn-offs: how awesome you are at everything, how wasted you got, how wasted you are, your mother’s cancer, and anything you ever read in Cosmopolitan Magazine.
9) Sex in the City isn’t anything like sex in the country. It’s dustier, grainier, and the people are less attractive.
10) While it’s nearly unavoidable not to picture Burt Reynolds in the throes of passion, don’t call him Burt Reynolds, unless he really is Burt Reynolds. Usually mentioning Burt in the sack ends in a conversation about how awesome Smokey and the Bandit is, which is fine, but again, not sexy.
11) The kitchen, bathroom sink, or the hood of a car are fine, but try these smacktastic locations: bait shop, preschool, port-o-john, or combination baitshoppreschoolportojohn.
12) Busting out of the bathroom dressed like Han Solo is A-OKAY. Busting out of the bathroom dressed like Chewbacca is A-OKAY. Looking like Chewbacca without a costume is a little yucky.
13) Names and the shouting of names can be sticky wickets. Write it on the back of your hand to avoid an awkward situation.
14) Hot dogs, hoagies, burritos, Popsicles, bologna, French bread, and pickles are all shaped like penises, so make sure your lady eats one of each on every date to get her all greased up and in the mood.
15) Please remember, a little uncomfortable is fun at first, and above all, you’re both already naked, so what is there to be shy about? You’re both there to, so have a little fun.
And ladies? In reference to Cosmopolitan Magazine, ever notice that while you’re sippin’ on your double iced skinny soy with whip during a break from your profesh (we should totally plan a vacay by the way, me and my peeps need to do some serious chillaxin’) and flipping through this month’s totally amazing issue of Cosmo (referred to by themselves as “the bible”, if I EVER hear anybody I know do that, slap city, bitch) featuring some bland starlet with one hand on her hip and one hand on the top of her head, smiling blankly through her blonde highlights on the cover, that THAT MAGAZINE HAS BEEN EXACTLY THE SAME ISSUE EVERY MONTH FOR SINCE IT’S CREATION? Ever notice that? How the embarrassing moments and the articles about fun females (she totally works sixty hours and can somehow balance that with cribbing amazing threads, making her man melt, and drinking 300 appletinis per week!), clothes, and whatever else nonsensical fodder in between Candie’s ads is always the exact same shit every time? Do they really think that’s helping anyone? OMG!!!!
Saying things like “peeps” “profesh” “vacay” “crib” “amazing” “man candy” “nooky” “cannoodle” and “convo” do not make you sound intelligent, fun, or fearless. They make you sound ridiculous. Everybody else, you can thank me later. Love!
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