Okay, seriously? I've been dreading the start of my Macroeconomics class for weeks.
Nothing sounds even remotely intriguing to me about the topic...and I'm sure anyone with a pulse would agree.
However, after sitting in this class for two and a half hours (and I'm still here), things are looking up. My professor is insane. Quite literally. I've already suggested a drinking game with my classmates to bring alcohol next week and drink whenever he says something inappropriate. One problem: I'd be blacked out twenty minutes into class.
While entertaining, it actually makes me uncomfortable.
He's old enough to be my grandpa and he looks like a cross between Leslie Nielsen and Phil Donahue. I want him to talk about his loving wife, grandkids, and summers on his yacht... not circle jerks and orgies.
Okay, I'm being discriminatory. If you told me I would have a professor that talked about all of the above, I would be PUMPED. Age discrimination is a terrible thing.
I think that's what I'll take from this class... not the offensive language or economics.
Lets review the last 210 minutes:
"In my older years, I've found one thing... I'm really good at pissing people off"
"It was pretty much a giant circle jerk" - on going to school at Duke.
"What were the soldiers doing in Europe? Getting laid" - on Vietnam.
"I could chop my legs off and paint my skin..." - sadly, I missed what he was referring to, but either way I'm offended.
"I did my dissertation on fertility cycles of women... it was great field work."
"You know people that are brutally honest? ...... Assholes."
"Lets have a toga party and just orgy out up in here" - His suggestion to the ASU Board for where to donate funds.
"You must reward productive people, and punish jack-offs." - one of his "Basic Truths" of economics (he also wrote this on the board).
"From what I've heard, they should have just shot him at birth..."
(This one's non verbal) - < MIDDLE FINGER >
"RAT BASTARDS!!!!!"
"BULLSHIT!!!!!"
"...is like making a celibate monk the head of the Playboy mansion... you may know in theory what's going on, but you have no practical knowledge."
I'll leave you with that.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Thursday, October 21, 2010
"No Strings Attached"
...no, I’m not talking about N*SYNC’s amazing third CD (if you count their Christmas album)… I’m talking about the line that was uttered to both Kelsey and myself in regards to a foursome which was propositioned to us in the depths of Coyote Ugly one week ago.
Yes, I said a foursome. Yes, you’re going to get details. Yes, you should be overly excited.
You see, for my 25th birthday, and quarter life crisis, Kelsey and I decided to go to Vegas. Why? Because I wanted to counteract feeling old by acting like a 19 year old hooligan. It worked.
Actually, before we get to the foursome proposition (which I assure you is forthcoming), let’s start with our first night in Vegas...which is entirely awesome for its own reasons.
I decided, in a semi-drunken state at around 8pm, that I wanted to go to my first ever strip club...and what a better place to do that, than in Vegas?! I immediately grabbed every entertainment book I could find, in the hopes of uncovering a “Best of” strip clubs list. After scouring multiple books, and finding nothing, I realized that the internets was probably my best solution.
I grabbed my phone (there was no way I was paying 20 bucks a day for wifi – F you, Riviera), and started my search. And that’s when I saw it on “AdultVegas.com”... like a prized animal on a safari... The Spearmint Rhino.
The name sounded familiar, and as I racked my brain for where I possibly could have heard this name before, it dawned on me.
Picture it, Connecticut, 2006... in a drunken stupor back in college, I once asked Dave the Cop (an awkward friend of ours…who was a little too old to be hanging out with 20 year olds...) where all the good strip clubs were in Vegas.
Mind you, I had no intention of going to Vegas anytime soon. But at that moment, in that crowded bar, it was highly pertinent to my life and well-being. And Dave simply replied, “The Spearmint Rhino is the shit.”
Sold.
I continued to read about this castle of nudity and dreams, and found that they had a limo service. Wait. Hold up. Sooo, you’re telling me that I not only get to see naked ladies, but I get to ride there in style? Holy shit, it’s like Santa came early (not in a sexual sense).
I dialed the number, and after two rings a gentleman picked up and I could hear music blasting and people talking… naked people. I asked him about the car service, and we made the necessary arrangements.
I then proceeded to pass out on the bed. I had evidently drank more than I thought…oops. About an hour later, Kelsey was trying to wake me up, but I was pretty much in a coma. She then said “it’s fine Meg, if you don’t want to go to the strip club…” and I then jumped out of bed like I just found out I slept with CarrotTop and he was trying to spoon.
As we stepped outside the hotel, sure enough there was a limo waiting for us with “Spearmint Rhino” etched on the side. It. Was. Awesome.
However, our driver Johnny failed to realize that my “plus one” would also be a lady. Immediately I went from “awesome girlfriend” to “I’m not so sure we can have two ladies by themselves in the club.” After calling his manager, Johnny came back around and said “Okay, here’s the deal. You ladies can get into the club. I’ll bring you in the dancer’s entrance. However, once you’re in there, you cannot talk to any men because it may take away from business.”
Ummm, did Johnny just insinuate that I would take away from the naked ladies giving lap dances? Or that I, myself, would be giving a lap dance if a man approached me? Or that all of the beauty that is me and Kelsey would blind the men to the nakedness in front of them, and they’d want to talk to us instead?
I was flattered.
“That’s totally fine, we’re not going for the men anyway,” was the reply my darling girlfriend uttered, and off we went.
As we pulled into the dancer’s entrance, there was a red carpet and a HUGE man sitting on a cell phone yelling at someone. I tipped Johnny, and he told us to get out our IDs and that he would then escort us inside to make sure we were okay.
Once we passed the threshold into the dark lighting of the club, I immediately starting smiling ear to ear like the Cheshire cat. I couldn’t stop myself.
It was kind of like a kid going to Disneyland for the first time. They may not have seen anything spectacular just yet, but they know that awesomeness lies ahead.
Once we got into the club, there were ladies EVERYWHERE. However, in all honesty, I wasn’t nearly as comfortable as I thought I would be. I’m not used to real-life ladies just walking around in underwear or completely topless. It was a little disarming. I went to the bar to get another drink since my buzz was wearing off, and paid 8 dollars for a beer. Awesome.
Kels and I then walked around, trying to find a place to sit/stand, but it was packed. We made our way back over to the main area, and found a standing area. There we were, poised at the head of the room, overlooking a sea of gyrating women grinding on men.
Men.
No other ladies were there as spectators.
After watching for a bit, it became quite clear that sitting in a chair meant “come over and sit on my lap, then give me a dance,” and that standing meant “come talk to me, and maybe I’ll go sit down so you can sit on my lap and give me a dance.”
After about 30 minutes of just standing there waiting for someone to approach us, I was beginning to give up hope.
Maybe they thought we were someone’s wives? Maybe they weren’t supposed to give dances to other girls?
That’s racist.
But, what did we have to do to get a lady to talk to us?
They were literally crawling on the men, but Kelsey and I seemed to have some kind of stripper plague that they were all avoiding.
I was about ready to give up, when I felt a hand on my shoulder, and heard a miraculous “hi ladies” come from behind me. My pulse raced, and my palms got sweaty and I thought to myself “please have a bra on… please have a bra on...” Because if she didn’t, I probably would have reverted back to that uncomfortable state of “you should be covered up, and I shouldn’t be staring.”
Thankfully, I turned around to see not one, but two lovely ladies in a bra and panties.
(I say “panties” because I know that one of my devout readers, Stef, HATES that word. So yeah, that one’s for you, Steffi. Panties.)
They both reached their hands out to introduce themselves, Brenda and Melanie. Melanie made a comment about both of our names starting with the letter “M” and how we were like “M&Ms” and go together.
I was already sold.
I was going to try to say something just as witty, like “oh Brenda and Kelsey… BK… Burger King...” But I luckily realized just how lame that was before I said it. Thank God for my personal filter that only turns on every now and then.
They made small talk, asked why we were in Vegas, etc… When they heard we were visiting for my birthday celebration, Melanie said “ugh, you’re a Libra. I always fall for Libras.”
Why, Melanie, are you insinuating something? Are you falling for me just on the basis of our handshake? And two minutes of introductions?
I don’t blame you.
We continued chatting, and Melanie mentioned that her ex-husband was a Libra, and that she can’t seem to stay away from them (to which my head perked up like ScoobyDoo when he hears something spooky).
She also mentioned that she was one drink away from switching teams… to which I nearly said “let’s go to the bar...”
Oh Melanie. You toy with my emotions.
Throughout our conversation, Kelsey charmed the pants...well, underwear...off of these ladies, which made me love her that much more. Seriously, she was like Casanova.
It was hot.
After a few more minutes, the girls then asked if we wanted a dance... and my world kind of slowed down into slow motion. I turned to Kelsey with a look of “do we?!?! HOLY SHIT” and she looked at me with the same expression. Since both of us looking at each other with ridiculous faces wasn’t getting us anywhere, Kelsey said “maybe later, but not right now...”
The girls then said “okay, no problem... we’ll be around..and if you can’t find us, just have us paged and we’ll meet you.”
Then Melanie pointed down to the bow on front of her panties and said “I have a present I want you to unwrap.”
Again. The world slowed down. My jaw dropped. I almost followed them as they walked away.
However, I restrained myself, and stayed with my lovely lady as we resumed watching over the patrons of the club.
After about ten minutes, Kelsey said “I need to pee...but I don’t want to lose our spot. Will you be okay by yourself?”
I wanted to answer “No,” but I also knew that if we gave up our awesome position, that we wouldn’t find another place to stand, and that we would probably end up leaving. I didn’t like that option at all, so I agreed to stay put.
My fear was that a girl would approach me, and either:
a) Without my Casanova by my side, I would seem like a total idiot and stutter a lot
b) I would follow said girl into a back room and end up doing cocaine just because she said to
Neither happened. Thank God.
Kelsey came back after a few minutes and said that she ran into Melanie and Brenda by the bathroom and that they chatted. She was going to invite them to do their little dances for us when she came out of the potty, but Melanie and Brenda had disappeared, and so had Melanie’s “present.”
Dammit.
We waited around a bit more, but never saw them again.
We were however, approached once more by a creepy redhead who had MAD pole dancing skills ask us for a dance... but we nicely declined. She was a little creeptastic, even for me. She got over it quickly though, as she straddled the man sitting in front of us.
All in all, it was a wonderful first experience. We stayed at the club for a little bit longer, and then decided to head back to the hotel to play craps (which I totally won $30 at). I was dying to tell the other people at the table “YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHERE WE JUST CAME FROM,” but I decided against it. Maybe they would be offended.
Once we got back to the room, I already classified our trip as "successful" based on our first night. Little did I know that the Spearmint Rhino would seem tame in comparison to the rest of our weekend in Vegas.
To be continued...
Yes, I said a foursome. Yes, you’re going to get details. Yes, you should be overly excited.
You see, for my 25th birthday, and quarter life crisis, Kelsey and I decided to go to Vegas. Why? Because I wanted to counteract feeling old by acting like a 19 year old hooligan. It worked.
Actually, before we get to the foursome proposition (which I assure you is forthcoming), let’s start with our first night in Vegas...which is entirely awesome for its own reasons.
I decided, in a semi-drunken state at around 8pm, that I wanted to go to my first ever strip club...and what a better place to do that, than in Vegas?! I immediately grabbed every entertainment book I could find, in the hopes of uncovering a “Best of” strip clubs list. After scouring multiple books, and finding nothing, I realized that the internets was probably my best solution.
I grabbed my phone (there was no way I was paying 20 bucks a day for wifi – F you, Riviera), and started my search. And that’s when I saw it on “AdultVegas.com”... like a prized animal on a safari... The Spearmint Rhino.
The name sounded familiar, and as I racked my brain for where I possibly could have heard this name before, it dawned on me.
Picture it, Connecticut, 2006... in a drunken stupor back in college, I once asked Dave the Cop (an awkward friend of ours…who was a little too old to be hanging out with 20 year olds...) where all the good strip clubs were in Vegas.
Mind you, I had no intention of going to Vegas anytime soon. But at that moment, in that crowded bar, it was highly pertinent to my life and well-being. And Dave simply replied, “The Spearmint Rhino is the shit.”
Sold.
I continued to read about this castle of nudity and dreams, and found that they had a limo service. Wait. Hold up. Sooo, you’re telling me that I not only get to see naked ladies, but I get to ride there in style? Holy shit, it’s like Santa came early (not in a sexual sense).
I dialed the number, and after two rings a gentleman picked up and I could hear music blasting and people talking… naked people. I asked him about the car service, and we made the necessary arrangements.
I then proceeded to pass out on the bed. I had evidently drank more than I thought…oops. About an hour later, Kelsey was trying to wake me up, but I was pretty much in a coma. She then said “it’s fine Meg, if you don’t want to go to the strip club…” and I then jumped out of bed like I just found out I slept with CarrotTop and he was trying to spoon.
As we stepped outside the hotel, sure enough there was a limo waiting for us with “Spearmint Rhino” etched on the side. It. Was. Awesome.
However, our driver Johnny failed to realize that my “plus one” would also be a lady. Immediately I went from “awesome girlfriend” to “I’m not so sure we can have two ladies by themselves in the club.” After calling his manager, Johnny came back around and said “Okay, here’s the deal. You ladies can get into the club. I’ll bring you in the dancer’s entrance. However, once you’re in there, you cannot talk to any men because it may take away from business.”
Ummm, did Johnny just insinuate that I would take away from the naked ladies giving lap dances? Or that I, myself, would be giving a lap dance if a man approached me? Or that all of the beauty that is me and Kelsey would blind the men to the nakedness in front of them, and they’d want to talk to us instead?
I was flattered.
“That’s totally fine, we’re not going for the men anyway,” was the reply my darling girlfriend uttered, and off we went.
As we pulled into the dancer’s entrance, there was a red carpet and a HUGE man sitting on a cell phone yelling at someone. I tipped Johnny, and he told us to get out our IDs and that he would then escort us inside to make sure we were okay.
Once we passed the threshold into the dark lighting of the club, I immediately starting smiling ear to ear like the Cheshire cat. I couldn’t stop myself.
It was kind of like a kid going to Disneyland for the first time. They may not have seen anything spectacular just yet, but they know that awesomeness lies ahead.
Once we got into the club, there were ladies EVERYWHERE. However, in all honesty, I wasn’t nearly as comfortable as I thought I would be. I’m not used to real-life ladies just walking around in underwear or completely topless. It was a little disarming. I went to the bar to get another drink since my buzz was wearing off, and paid 8 dollars for a beer. Awesome.
Kels and I then walked around, trying to find a place to sit/stand, but it was packed. We made our way back over to the main area, and found a standing area. There we were, poised at the head of the room, overlooking a sea of gyrating women grinding on men.
Men.
No other ladies were there as spectators.
After watching for a bit, it became quite clear that sitting in a chair meant “come over and sit on my lap, then give me a dance,” and that standing meant “come talk to me, and maybe I’ll go sit down so you can sit on my lap and give me a dance.”
After about 30 minutes of just standing there waiting for someone to approach us, I was beginning to give up hope.
Maybe they thought we were someone’s wives? Maybe they weren’t supposed to give dances to other girls?
That’s racist.
But, what did we have to do to get a lady to talk to us?
They were literally crawling on the men, but Kelsey and I seemed to have some kind of stripper plague that they were all avoiding.
I was about ready to give up, when I felt a hand on my shoulder, and heard a miraculous “hi ladies” come from behind me. My pulse raced, and my palms got sweaty and I thought to myself “please have a bra on… please have a bra on...” Because if she didn’t, I probably would have reverted back to that uncomfortable state of “you should be covered up, and I shouldn’t be staring.”
Thankfully, I turned around to see not one, but two lovely ladies in a bra and panties.
(I say “panties” because I know that one of my devout readers, Stef, HATES that word. So yeah, that one’s for you, Steffi. Panties.)
They both reached their hands out to introduce themselves, Brenda and Melanie. Melanie made a comment about both of our names starting with the letter “M” and how we were like “M&Ms” and go together.
I was already sold.
I was going to try to say something just as witty, like “oh Brenda and Kelsey… BK… Burger King...” But I luckily realized just how lame that was before I said it. Thank God for my personal filter that only turns on every now and then.
They made small talk, asked why we were in Vegas, etc… When they heard we were visiting for my birthday celebration, Melanie said “ugh, you’re a Libra. I always fall for Libras.”
Why, Melanie, are you insinuating something? Are you falling for me just on the basis of our handshake? And two minutes of introductions?
I don’t blame you.
We continued chatting, and Melanie mentioned that her ex-husband was a Libra, and that she can’t seem to stay away from them (to which my head perked up like ScoobyDoo when he hears something spooky).
She also mentioned that she was one drink away from switching teams… to which I nearly said “let’s go to the bar...”
Oh Melanie. You toy with my emotions.
Throughout our conversation, Kelsey charmed the pants...well, underwear...off of these ladies, which made me love her that much more. Seriously, she was like Casanova.
It was hot.
After a few more minutes, the girls then asked if we wanted a dance... and my world kind of slowed down into slow motion. I turned to Kelsey with a look of “do we?!?! HOLY SHIT” and she looked at me with the same expression. Since both of us looking at each other with ridiculous faces wasn’t getting us anywhere, Kelsey said “maybe later, but not right now...”
The girls then said “okay, no problem... we’ll be around..and if you can’t find us, just have us paged and we’ll meet you.”
Then Melanie pointed down to the bow on front of her panties and said “I have a present I want you to unwrap.”
Again. The world slowed down. My jaw dropped. I almost followed them as they walked away.
However, I restrained myself, and stayed with my lovely lady as we resumed watching over the patrons of the club.
After about ten minutes, Kelsey said “I need to pee...but I don’t want to lose our spot. Will you be okay by yourself?”
I wanted to answer “No,” but I also knew that if we gave up our awesome position, that we wouldn’t find another place to stand, and that we would probably end up leaving. I didn’t like that option at all, so I agreed to stay put.
My fear was that a girl would approach me, and either:
a) Without my Casanova by my side, I would seem like a total idiot and stutter a lot
b) I would follow said girl into a back room and end up doing cocaine just because she said to
Neither happened. Thank God.
Kelsey came back after a few minutes and said that she ran into Melanie and Brenda by the bathroom and that they chatted. She was going to invite them to do their little dances for us when she came out of the potty, but Melanie and Brenda had disappeared, and so had Melanie’s “present.”
Dammit.
We waited around a bit more, but never saw them again.
We were however, approached once more by a creepy redhead who had MAD pole dancing skills ask us for a dance... but we nicely declined. She was a little creeptastic, even for me. She got over it quickly though, as she straddled the man sitting in front of us.
All in all, it was a wonderful first experience. We stayed at the club for a little bit longer, and then decided to head back to the hotel to play craps (which I totally won $30 at). I was dying to tell the other people at the table “YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHERE WE JUST CAME FROM,” but I decided against it. Maybe they would be offended.
Once we got back to the room, I already classified our trip as "successful" based on our first night. Little did I know that the Spearmint Rhino would seem tame in comparison to the rest of our weekend in Vegas.
To be continued...
Friday, August 27, 2010
I Have Become the Very Person I Hate.
Have you ever walked into a Starbucks / Coffee Bean / Anywhere that tries to be hip and cool with free wifi, and saw people with their laptops open, trying to look like they have important shit to do?
I'm sorry, but if you're THAT important, you wouldn't have time to be sitting at Coffee Bean taking up space.
I've always thought that "these people" were simply trying to be cool...and failing miserably. "Look at me! I'm sitting in a trendy cafe that has cool wallpaper, African music, people wearing beanies as baristas, and today's specials written on a chalkboard! I'm AWESOME!"
No.
No, you're not.
You're a massive tool and you should do your work in the privacy of your office and/or home. And how does that conversation go, exactly?
"Honey, I have a report I need to get out to the shareholders today. It's really important. I'm going to Coffee Bean! I'll be back in 5 hours."
"F you, honey. No."
Clearly, I have rage towards "these people." I don't know where it originated from. Maybe I was given a condescending look by a "novelist" working on his next great masterpiece. Maybe a student had books sprawled about a six person table, and looked at Facebook for an hour. Maybe I have classmates that enjoy meeting at coffee spots, and find it enjoyable trying to cram ALL THEIR BOOKS AND LAPTOPS ON A TABLE MADE FOR TWO.
Maybe.
It's hard to be sure.
Now, with all of that being said and off my chest... I feel as though I should let you know that I type this blog post from Coffee Bean.
gasp!
WHAT!
HYPOCRITE!
POSER!
LOSER!
HOW COULD YOU?!!?!?!?
That is the conversation I had with myself in the car, while looking in the rearview mirror, before coming in here. I still can't believe it.
As I walked in, books on my shoulder, I avoided all eye contact, as if the person sitting at the table of 6 BY HIMSELF knew that I internally had rage towards him my entire life, and was still silently judging him WHEN I WAS NOW ONE OF "HIM."
Anyway, here I sit, at a table for 4, by myself, typing this entry.
Why, you ask?
I blame ADD.
You see, I have a grotesque amount of homework due on Sunday. My law professor evidently thinks it's HYSTERICAL to give us "BRIEFS" that are 50 pages long. Suck it, woman.
Additionally, today I had a half day at work. Usually, I would already be drinking by myself at home, waiting for Kelsey to arrive... but with the amount of work I have to do... I need to be remotely responsible.
My initial thought was to go home, sit down, and do my work in the confines of my home (WHERE WORK SHOULD BE DONE).
Then, I started to think of all the fun stuff in our apartment... the TV, the wall, the potential dance parties I could have... and I realized that absolutely NO work would get done today if I went home.
So, that left me with two options.
Don't do my homework and fail my classes, OR go to a place with free public wifi.
I cringe at the thought that I chose the latter.
So here I sit, looking around, judging the people I have become.
Getting my MBA has turned me into a hypocrite and a HUGE poser.
F this game.
I'm sorry, but if you're THAT important, you wouldn't have time to be sitting at Coffee Bean taking up space.
I've always thought that "these people" were simply trying to be cool...and failing miserably. "Look at me! I'm sitting in a trendy cafe that has cool wallpaper, African music, people wearing beanies as baristas, and today's specials written on a chalkboard! I'm AWESOME!"
No.
No, you're not.
You're a massive tool and you should do your work in the privacy of your office and/or home. And how does that conversation go, exactly?
"Honey, I have a report I need to get out to the shareholders today. It's really important. I'm going to Coffee Bean! I'll be back in 5 hours."
"F you, honey. No."
Clearly, I have rage towards "these people." I don't know where it originated from. Maybe I was given a condescending look by a "novelist" working on his next great masterpiece. Maybe a student had books sprawled about a six person table, and looked at Facebook for an hour. Maybe I have classmates that enjoy meeting at coffee spots, and find it enjoyable trying to cram ALL THEIR BOOKS AND LAPTOPS ON A TABLE MADE FOR TWO.
Maybe.
It's hard to be sure.
Now, with all of that being said and off my chest... I feel as though I should let you know that I type this blog post from Coffee Bean.
gasp!
WHAT!
HYPOCRITE!
POSER!
LOSER!
HOW COULD YOU?!!?!?!?
That is the conversation I had with myself in the car, while looking in the rearview mirror, before coming in here. I still can't believe it.
As I walked in, books on my shoulder, I avoided all eye contact, as if the person sitting at the table of 6 BY HIMSELF knew that I internally had rage towards him my entire life, and was still silently judging him WHEN I WAS NOW ONE OF "HIM."
Anyway, here I sit, at a table for 4, by myself, typing this entry.
Why, you ask?
I blame ADD.
You see, I have a grotesque amount of homework due on Sunday. My law professor evidently thinks it's HYSTERICAL to give us "BRIEFS" that are 50 pages long. Suck it, woman.
Additionally, today I had a half day at work. Usually, I would already be drinking by myself at home, waiting for Kelsey to arrive... but with the amount of work I have to do... I need to be remotely responsible.
My initial thought was to go home, sit down, and do my work in the confines of my home (WHERE WORK SHOULD BE DONE).
Then, I started to think of all the fun stuff in our apartment... the TV, the wall, the potential dance parties I could have... and I realized that absolutely NO work would get done today if I went home.
So, that left me with two options.
Don't do my homework and fail my classes, OR go to a place with free public wifi.
I cringe at the thought that I chose the latter.
So here I sit, looking around, judging the people I have become.
Getting my MBA has turned me into a hypocrite and a HUGE poser.
F this game.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
If You Enjoy The Sound of Music, Then You'll Enjoy This...
...and if you don't enjoy The Sound of Music, then stop reading my blog. Seriously. I feel nearly as strongly for Fraulein Maria, as I do for Betty White. Don't mess.
Anyway... Today, as part of my (gay) morning routine at work, I sat down and immediately put on my Pandora Showtunes station, and began to happily dance along.
About an hour in, and 10 Glee songs, 7 Rent songs, 5 Wicked songs, 3 Aladdin songs, 2 Jungle Book songs, 1 Beauty and the Beast song, and 1 Mulan Song later, "So long, farewell" began to serenade me. I wiggled in my seat fighting the urge to re-enact the VonTrap children’s performance, and settled for humming along quietly in my cube.
Knowing one of my colleagues is also a fan of greatest movie EVER made, I IM’d her in the hopes of making her morning a little brighter. Here's what transpired:
Me: I'd like to stay and taste my first champagne... yes?
Sally: No.
Me: Awww, Captain VonTrap
Sally: No champagne for you, you Nazi loving 16-year-old.
Me: You floozy, I saw you at the Gazebo! You and that “weeeeee!” nonsense. You’re grounded until after the war.
Sally: Worse – we’re moving to the hills where no boys will find you.
Me: Ever. Kurt will start to look tempting.
Anyway... Today, as part of my (gay) morning routine at work, I sat down and immediately put on my Pandora Showtunes station, and began to happily dance along.
About an hour in, and 10 Glee songs, 7 Rent songs, 5 Wicked songs, 3 Aladdin songs, 2 Jungle Book songs, 1 Beauty and the Beast song, and 1 Mulan Song later, "So long, farewell" began to serenade me. I wiggled in my seat fighting the urge to re-enact the VonTrap children’s performance, and settled for humming along quietly in my cube.
Knowing one of my colleagues is also a fan of greatest movie EVER made, I IM’d her in the hopes of making her morning a little brighter. Here's what transpired:
Me: I'd like to stay and taste my first champagne... yes?
Sally: No.
Me: Awww, Captain VonTrap
Sally: No champagne for you, you Nazi loving 16-year-old.
Me: You floozy, I saw you at the Gazebo! You and that “weeeeee!” nonsense. You’re grounded until after the war.
Sally: Worse – we’re moving to the hills where no boys will find you.
Me: Ever. Kurt will start to look tempting.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
It's 10:14am and I've Already Alienated Kelsey.
Me: "Sometimes" courtesy of the one and only Britney Jean Spears just came on my ipod. It's going to be a good day.
Sometimes I runnnnn
Sometimes I hideeeeeeee
Sometimes I'm scarrrred of youuuuu
But all I really want is to hold you tiiiiight
Treat you riiight
Be with you dayyy and niiiight
Baby all I need is timeeeeeeee
...SING IT, GIRLFRIEND!
Kelsey: I’m done talking to you today.
Sometimes I runnnnn
Sometimes I hideeeeeeee
Sometimes I'm scarrrred of youuuuu
But all I really want is to hold you tiiiiight
Treat you riiight
Be with you dayyy and niiiight
Baby all I need is timeeeeeeee
...SING IT, GIRLFRIEND!
Kelsey: I’m done talking to you today.
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