Prepare to have your mind blown, Canadian Beyoncé-style

I’m sure everyone who reads this blog also reads Ben over at No Ordinary Rollercoaster.  And seriously?  If you don’t, you are an idiot because that shit is awesome.  I mean hello - his dogs have snuggies.  If that does not reek of awesome-sauce I don’t know what does.  Get with the program, people.

A couple of weeks ago he promised to answer any questions posed by his readers via video post (vlog?  Is that what the kids are calling it?).  And, as so often happens in my life, I couldn’t think of one appropriate response.  In truth, I couldn’t even think of one inappropriate response.  I was whatever you call it when your brain freezes up and your tongue gets tied.

So, dear readers, I squeezed my eyes shut and threw a Hail Mary.

Canadians must celebrate Christmas the same way they do Thanksgiving – early.  Because Ladies and Gentlemen, feast your eyes on THIS:

NOR Video for Bad Mutha Fudruckers from Benjamin Boudreau on Vimeo.

This says it all:

It was not even a little bit funny, it was poo squirting, face punching, puppy flipping hilarious!!!

-in an email from The Friend

But sarahdotcom says it best:

yo, beyonce. i’m really happy for you, and imma let you finish, but ben boudreau made the best single ladies video of all time. OF ALL TIME.

-sarahdotcom

I haven’t even seen this yet, because my stupid work filter won’t let me.  So let me how awesome it is in the comments.  Or if the video isn’t working at all.

Check out Ben’s blog for a complete list of his Blitzkrieg of Video Awesomeness.

3, no make that 2, items of business

No, I have not fallen off of the blogging wagon.  Well, I may have bounced off when we hit that last pot hole, but I’m back on now.  Mom was right – you should always wear a seat belt.  And really?  30 posts in 30 days was never going to happen.

It is a big news day here, so let’s get down to business.

First up: BSB Brian Littrell has H1N1!  WTF?  My middle high school self is in shock.  Is no one safe?!?  Somewhere in there is a joke about making out with BSB posters and getting infected, but I can’t quite make the connection today.  Besides, a) Brian was never my fav – I was a Nick/AJ girl; and b) BSB are no longer relevant to my interests.  But wait – I just posted about them.  I’m not sure where I’m going with this.

Next item on the agenda: Halloween costumes!  I have decided to be a reverse mermaid.  Yeah.  Last year I was a baked potato.  I’ve already resigned myself to another Halloween spent explaining what my costume is to every drunk person I encounter, but my enthusiasm will not be dampened!  I spent the weekend sculpting the fish head part of my costume.  I mean, I’ve already done the mermaid thing, so now it’s time to shake things up a bit.

I forgot what the third thing was that I was going to post about.  Perhaps I’ll remember for tomorrow.

I need some help

Hey internets, I am faced with another shitty-weather weekend, and I need some help STAT.  I absolutely cannot handle losing to Steve at Scrabble anymore.  It is seriously damaging my self-image.  I need your help to come up with some other 2 player games (but not chess – I don’t know how to play and refuse to learn until Wizard’s Chess becomes available).  Keep in mind we are usually, to quote the great Ben Boudreau, half in the bag while playing.

So far I’ve come up with Othello.

And that’s about it.

Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi.  You’re my only hope.

Enjoy the weekend!

Can you handle this?

Are you sitting down?  ’Cause I’m about to drop a bomb on you.

I GOT A NEW LUNCH BOX!

I know, right?  Very exciting.  Almost too exciting for a Thursday.  In fact, I’m going to have to ask you to chill the fuck out.  After all, it’s my lunch box.

And actually, “new” is a bit misleading, as that may lead you to believe that I had a lunch box prior to my last night impulse acquisition, which I did not.  I did have one of these, however, to keep my pb&j from getting smushed.

‘Cause smushed pb&j is full of FAIL.

So anyhow, I was in Food Lion last night, stocking up on bring-your-lunch-to-work essentials, and somehow I ended up in the far back corner.  This is the section of the store Food Lion calls the “international section” but I call Sección Latino because although there are some token cans of crispy noodles thrown in there for good measure, it is heavily weighted towards products of the hispanic persuasion, if you know what I mean.  And I think you do.  There I was, marveling at the multitude of Goya nectars, when I saw a small display of kitchen appliances.  Well, appliances may not be the right word, as there was not a power cord to be found.  Mini mortal and pestles, tortilla warmers, and (wait for it…) lunch boxes!

So this baby (in black) came home with me.

Unfortunately the lunch box, excuse me the Thermal Food Carrier, does not come with an abuela to pack me a delicious and nutritious shrimp, rice, and soup lunch, so most likely my lunch will continue to consist of a pb&j sandwich, crackers, whatever fruit is in season/on sale, and some cheese.  Honestly, I’m not complaining.  Having to explain to my Abuela why I didn’t finish my soup EVEN THOUGH SHE SPENT ALL NIGHT SIMMERING IT TO PERFECTION SO I WOULD HAVE SOMETHING WARM IN MY BELLY AND NOW HER ANKLES ARE SWOLLEN would be too much pressure.

You can’t really tell from the picture (but I know you are dying to hear about), but one of the removable compartments is divided into 3 mini compartments.  I know, right?  Awesome.  Perfect for keeping my grapes from touching my Special K Crackers* and getting them all wet and mushy.

So yeah.  That’s it for today.  Oh – and MY NEW LUNCHBOX cost <$7.  Suck it, Mr. Bento.
———————————————————–
*Which, fyi, are the size of postage stamps.  From the commercials (and the box) I expected them to be at least the size of a saltine.  So the recommended 17 cracker serving is not as generous as you might think.

No thank you

Every Wednesday morning Harris Teeter sends me an email filling me in on what’s on sale for the upcoming week.  Holyfoodporn I love it.  Harris Teeter even sends me a personalized list based on what I normally buy.  I know I should be creeped out that they are tracking my purchases, and it is a little unsettling when a sale on Tampax super absorbents just happens to coincide with my period, but mainly I love scrolling through the list and making a shopping list in my head.

It’s also kind of a stroll down memory lane.  You know, you’re right, Harris Teeter; I have been buying an awful lot of mushrooms.  And cranberry juice.  And peanut butter.

But this:

Thanks but no thanks.

Sorry Harris Teeter.  I don’t care how good of a sale you’re running, but I am NOT buying or eating white asparagus.  It looks creepy and human.

Tae Bo! Let’s go!

Hello, chickadees! My calendar has informed me that it is September 29th, and you know what that means–the countdown to HALLOWEEN has begun! Seriously, have you thought about your costume? I’ve thought about mine. I won’t reveal it here yet, but I will let you know it involves a leotard.

Yeah.

And since (as I heard a pageant coach explain it so neatly) you can’t put 10 pounds of sugar in a 5 pound bag, I decided to turn to my old friend, Billy Blanks.

You remember Billy Blanks of Tae Bo fame, right?

Aw yeah.

Of course you do.

I bought Billy’s Tae Bo box set on VHS before I left for my first year of college, determined to fend off the freshman 15.  Little did I know I’d be so disappointed at my tiny women’s college that I’d survive on a diet of saltines and vodka-and-cranberry juice and end up losing 15+ pounds.

What was once a 4-tape set has been whittled down by time to one VHS tape, but luckily it is the basic workout, rather than the instructional video or (heaven forbid!) the advanced workout.  Baby steps.

The only VCR in my house is in my bedroom, so I kicked the dog beds out to clear a space between my bed and my dresser for jabs and uppercuts.  Unfortunately I didn’t sweep up my gym space and I ended up slipping on all the accumulated dog dirt and hair during a stretch.  At least it wasn’t during a back kick.  Another snag was when Ernie came bounding in the bedroom, excited by my enthusiastic answer to Billy’s, “how are you feeling?!?” (answer: “All right!” *fist pump*) and tackled me onto the bed.

Dammit, Ernie, mommy needs to get rid of 5 pounds of sugar.

All in all, it is a good workout.  An especially good ab workout, since Billy’s nipple keeps escaping his unitard? leotard? spandex coveralls? and peeking out at me.  My friend Cory and I used to sit on my couch, drinks in hand, clutching our sides and laughing at each appearance of the “renegade nipple.”  A good drinking game AND a good ab workout.

Tiny dinosaurs eat tiny ferns

Arggh…due to a monster staff meeting this morning I’m just now getting around to my Monday morning didn’t-have-the-patience-to-do-it-on-Fridaypile o’ work.

Blech.

Usually during staff meetings I don’t have much to say.  Talky McGossips-a-lot is one of those annoying people who can’t go to the corner store without running into a guy he used to work with, the lady he lives down the street from, and his second cousins thrice-removed (on his mother’s side).  He usually fills us in on who’s involved in what public policy scandal this week.  Another co-worker spends 45 minutes telling everyone about the work he’s attempted to do the previous week, and how his efforts have been thwarted at every turn by circumstances outside of his control (“well, so-and-so was supposed to get back with me about that issue, but I’m still waiting on an email,”).  I, on the other hand, keep my mouth shut unless absolutely necessary and take detailed notes.

Yes, our meeting was about giraffes that look like my sister.  And tiny dinosaurs munching on tiny ferns.  Oh, you weren’t aware I worked at the department of Make Believe?  Consider yourself informed.

These endless, pointless, WEEKLY meetings are taking a toll on me.  I am ripping my cuticles to shreds.  Seriously, my hands look like Frodo Baggins after one of our marathon meetings.  Any advice?  I’m thinking of getting a stress ball, or does that broadcasting too loudly that the combined neurosis of my co-workers stresses me the fuck out?  It’s like some truly messed-up version of Captain Planet.

Gossip!  Ineptitude!  Micro-management!  Blame shifting!  Enclosed spaces!

By your powers combined, I am CAPTAIN SHREDDED CUTICLES!

—————————————————————————
p.s. I blogged this weekend in my quest to post 30 blog posts in 30 days (jeez, could this sentence BE any more awkward?).  So check out this and this for some weekend bloggy goodness.

France, Georgia

This morning I was lying in bed watching a movie on TBS (Invincible with Mark Wahlberg, if you are interested). A Miracle Whip commercial played about, oh, I don’t know, maybe a MILLION times.

Now, I am no great fan of Miracle Whip, or really mayonnaise or mayonnaise-type condiment (I am a more of a mustard girl). My personal preferences aside, I don’t think it was the best advertising campaign. Perhaps it’s just me, but seeing someone end up with a glob of mayonnaise (or Miracle Whip – equal opportunity hater here) in the corner of their mouth after a big ol’ bite of turkey sandwich doesn’t do much for me. Kind of grosses me out; but again, I’m not a mayonnaise girl, so obviously I’m not the target market for this ad.

So aside from the obligatory mayonnaise facial shot, the commercial also had some ‘declarations’ written in white text superimposed over pictures of young hipsters having fun and consuming mayonnaise. Sounds harmless? Well it wasn’t, because each phrase (“We refuse to play second fiddle”) was wiped off the screen, leaving a white greasy smear. Gross, I know.

But the part that got Steve and I talking was the first phrase, which was something like “we refuse to blend in,” which was displayed over someone making potato salad. Really, Miracle Whip? You refuse to blend in? Isn’t that the point of using Miracle Whip/mayonnaise in a potato salad? To blend in and bind the other ingredients together? I’ve always imagined mayo blending purposefully into the background, getting us all to forget it’s in there among the celery and mustard, waiting for a favorable increase in temperature to turn rancid the ruin picnic.

We were still talking about blending in on our walk back from a delicious breakfast at our favorite greasy spoon (french toast for me, hamburger steak [barf] for him). I broke the news to Steve that he does and most likely will continue to have a hard time blending in, which led to this comeback:

“I blend in perfectly in my hometown of France!”

I started to say that France isn’t a town, but I had to catch myself because I’m sure there is some small town in the south named France. Georgia, perhaps?

Seacrest out.

In which Ernie learns a new trick

The day started out strong – breakfast quiche. I should have known, it was all down hill from there.

It’s been raining ALL DAY LONG, leaving me only one option for how to spend the day. Watching every true-crime Dateline: Investigation special I could find while drinking beer and teaching Ernie a new trick.

What new trick? I thought you’d never ask. Listen closely, it’s pretty complicated.

I form a gate in front of me with my pointer fingers.

“Cut the cheese, Ernie!”

Score.

Forecast for tomorrow? More rain.

Bollocks.

Your’re Computer Haz Been Enfected with SPYWARE!!1!

My computer is dying, y’all, DYING!  Poor, poor work computer.  She is suffering from a disgusting virus that has made a scary message utilizing poor grammar replace the picture of my sisters and I at my sister’s wedding as my desktop background.  Yesterday I had to break down and call our Tech department to come out and fix it.  I’m attempting to put the blame on downloading Internet Explorer 8, rather than admitting to my devious attempt to subvert the work web filter by adding Twitter and Facebook gadgets to my iGoogle page.  I have a feeling that wouldn’t go over well. 

And how’s this for salt in the wound:  My boss recently retired, and since a replacement has yet to be hired, his office is empty.  Just yesterday I had the brilliant idea to switch out my cruddy mouse, which was getting really jumpy and seriously cramping my free-hand Paint skills, for my boss’ mouse (I slathered my hand with Purell and rubbed it all over the new-to-me mouse, then wiped it off with a Kleenex.  The idea of using someone else’s mouse is kind of repulsive, but after this ritual I felt ok.).  Where am I working from today?  You got it – Old Boss’ office, complete with jumpy mouse.  Oh well, it could be worse.  His office definitely has a better view than mine.

So now a guy from Technology is working on my computer (not my work boyfriend – he moved to California, although this guy would be kind of cute if not for the lazy eye).  Let’s all hope he can fix her, without discovering that the virus was caused by me watching clips of Oprah’s MacKenzie Phillips interview at jezebel.com.

Tomorrow I will tell you how I went to my first yoga class and did not fart.