Wednesday, October 29, 2003

Don't Worry, Be Flabby

I need *not* to get on yahoo IM anymore because I always end up getting IMs from random peops. I have tried changing my privacy settings and all, but somehow, I am always found. But that's not the point here. So this dude starts talking to me and he's super boring and lame and asks if I'm single (gag) and so I told this guy I was gonna take off and go to the gym. The *he* starts talking about how he's happy he exercises because he is always worried he's going to get fat. "Fat people have no worries," he *explains* to me. "Yeah he says, they just eat and eat and never worry."

Yeah that's totally how it works. (Can I get a group snort here?)

FYI, dude: one of the reasons that exercise helps people lose weight (often a lot when they first start exercising regularly) is not only because it gets your heart rate and all that, but it also releases endorphins which mellow people the hell out (exercise doesn't mellow me, but nothing will; I'm extremely wound up basically all the time). Stress, fear, anxiety and all those worrying type emotions cause people to gain weight, not only because they desire a snickers in a tight situation (I mean, I do), but also because so much of their energy is expended on worry etc. that their bodies literally have no energy to rid themselves of excess fat cells and so on.

Obviously, there are other factors (many, actually) to being overweight, but I felt the need to give that little "science" lesson to all the people like this jerkface out there.

Am I still bothered by super-overweight lady at the gym who matches her *thong* leotard (over TIGHT leggings!!!) with her socks?

A: I am totally mortified for this woman.

P.S. I at least added comments to this *lame*, *lame* template.

Temporary Digs

Umm, so I know the site looks friggity lame, but the theory is that you're here for the junk I post, and not to be aesthetically wowed.

I think that's a lie though.

F-R just isn't F-R like this, but I need an outlet. I have wanted to post so many things, but knew not waht to do! Anyway, I am kinda busy these days, but I hope to be up and running this weekend or so.

Love,
your MaryT

Thursday, October 23, 2003

Does Not Compute!

A few quick notes before I head to bed.

I was just at Walgreen's to drop off (and pick up) a prescription. The following is my conversation with the drive-thru person (teller?).

MaryT: Hi. I need to drop off this prescription.
Teller: When did you want to pick that up?
MaryT: Can I come back in about 15 minutes?
Teller: (nearly one minute pause) What's your email address?
MaryT: I'm sorry? When do I pick this up?
Teller: Can you give me your email address?
MaryT:....well, why? and also, when do I pick this up?
Teller: If you'll give me your email address, I can give you a time.
MaryT: Is this like a negotiation? I have a credit card...
Teller: Walgreens will email you when it's ready.
MaryT: Well, I'm not going home in the next 15 minutes to check it. So how about I come back in 15 minutes?
Teller: If you give me your email address, you'll also be able to update your profile online!
MaryT: my profile? Yeah, I don't know what that is, but I just want to get my prescription in 15 minutes after I run to the grocery store.
Teller: Don't you want to give me your email address?
MaryT: No. May I go now?
Teller: It's really faster this way....
MaryT: (to self, but how I wish I had said it aloud!) I doubt it. I've been having this conversation for one MILLION years.

What is the deal? Companies are all about asking for the private info these days and I am so unwilling to give it. Not only that, but they answer questions with non-sequitar questions. MaryT ruling: NOT HELPFUL! We've heard this so much that we just roll with it. Well Lou Lou, I'm not just gonna roll with it anymore. Does this look familiar?

Q: How much is this clock?
A: Do you have a Target charge card?

Grrr.
----------

And now a note to Diedrich's on Montrose: Seriously y'all. WTF? Not only do you make coffee that tastes like motor oil, but I must award you worst marquee in the neighborhood also. Who writes those things? I spent all summer looking at WAKE UP! although it was welcome relief after months of the oppressive (and since it was misspelled, I always said it in the way it was spelled) GET CAFFINATED! (kuh-FI-nated). Now it's STUDY LATE. Marquee person, you're fired. I keep hoping with all my heart that someone will change the marquee to say STUDY LATTE. Oh come on. At least it's an upgrade.

-----
And finally, I had an anecdote about me being *extremely* judgemental (besides the ones listed above! ha), but I forgot what it was exactly. And no M!, it was not the Chuy's incident from Sunday. (My friends think that I make up rules about everything in order to be uber-elitist and boss the world under the MaryT regime. They might be right....what do y'all think?) Well, if I remember, I'll put it.

Good night all.

I know this is the third blog today after a brief dry spell, but if you've been reading a goodly amount of time, you know--when it rains, it pours. I might change my blog's motto to that.

And oh yeah...

I didn't get the robot vacuum cleaner. I often wonder what I would do if I just had a pile of money. I think we all know that I'd buy stuff like that.

Make Up Your Own Un-funny Stuff

Quit stealing mine!

Dear Readers,

If you link to my blog from your page, I will eventually know because I check my sitemeter once in awhile and visit your sites. Thanks very much for your confidence in my content! I do appreciate it and though I do not link to all of your blogs, I review them thoughtfully when I visit.

You know what I *don't* appreciate though? A couple of you that read my page and link to it, and yet, you seem to be STEALING MY CONTENT! WTF is that? Is that any way to re-pay me? Do you really want people to read my site and see that what you've just posted I posted a few days before (because, amazingly, I wrote it)? I hate to say anything, since most of my fans are so excellent, but plagiarism is total b.s. If I were at least getting paid for this, I wouldn't be so mad, but come on.

I work hard to post fresh, original material. If I have nothing to post, then I don't. I suggest you do the same. But seriously, cut that shit out. I am flattered, but only for about two seconds, before I feel robbed.

Heartbroken,
Your MaryT

Yes, *Every*thing is about you!

One thing that's really fun* about blogging is that people that read your blog always think that what you write is about them, just because they happened upon your page.

*"fun"

I write: I think seaweed is disgusting. (I actually find it to be delicious.)
A random person writes: Did my ex-girlfriend's mom's cousin's monkey tell you about that seaweed thing I did? Is that what this is about?
Me: Dude. Who *are* you?

Although, as the saying goes, just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they're not really after you. Sometimes, it *is* about you and for me, the blogger, sometimes my readers put me in an awkward spot. Here I am, trying to tactfully air *your* dirty laundry in a venue I feel most appropriate and here *you* are reading it and getting annoyed. A couple notes. 1) This is my blog. I am the boss of precious little in my own life, but this blog is one of those things. Back off ! (a la Yosemite Sam mud flaps) 2) Most of the people who read this are strangers anyway, so unless you *out* yourself, only you know if it's about you. If my friends know it's about you, they don't care because they like me better than you anyway.

Capisce?

When I wrote the blog about bad first dates, letters from ex-boyfriends everywhere (some I had hoped to forget) poured in. Emails from strangers and not surprisingly, guys I had only gone out with once filled my inbox over night. It was kind of surreal. First, I had no idea how most of them found my blog (or how late they stayed up! Geez guy, lay off the coffee!). Second, they all wanted to know if it was about them.

Hell yes, it was. It was about all of you because you are my dating history (except the strangers, and to you I say: wtf?). Do I openly mock my *friends*?...Well, on this page?...Well, shut up. It wasn't about them.

It was about you. If you were devoured. If you were adored. If you were a gigantic asshole to me. If you were a big lame-o I was too nice to say "get the hell out of my house," to. If you blew me off and it didn't matter. All of that was about you.

You asked. I answered. Now, do you really feel better knowing?

And yes, that herpes thing *was* about you. But I'm not gonna say. You know who you are.

Tuesday, October 21, 2003

Only 59 minutes left to decide...

So I'm looking at my amazon.com gold box offers, which I usually think are worthless and lame...until now!

I don't need this, but after reading what it is, I doubt any of you will be able to live without it either.

iRobot Roomba Pro Intelligent Floorvac Robotic Vacuum

Robot!

It's $195 and the amount of money I have lying around on a good day is approximately $.42 (if the little tray in my car is full-ish).

But oh man. A robot. Can I really go to the next item and pass forever?!

...to be continued

Sunday, October 19, 2003

Jesus as a Gimmick

Somebody stole my idea!

From: Church Love
Date: Sat., 18 October 2003, 18:46:43
To: maryt@french-roast.com
Subject: Some Christian Likes You

Right.

Getting this email induces even less excitement than the following things:
-a Yankee/Marlins World Series
-finding out a stranger has the same birthday day as me, but different months and years (Hooray 23rders!)
-random people telling me their SAT scores (please stop doing this, btw!)
-discovering EASY!! SAFE!! ways to enlarge my penis and lose weight without dieting or exercise

Bush in Asia

This was the headline on CNN today when I was at the gym. I'm sorry, but does that sound just a little bit too close to euthanasia to not be completely hilarious in its implications? I thought so.

As a side note, thanks to CNN's method of spreading news (single catchy headline, a la ATTACK ON AMERICA!!! or DEATH OF A PRINCESS!), it doesn't matter that the people who do the writing for closed captioning are complete morons. You get about as much news anyway, considering CNN is the tv equivalent of a news rag. On a different tv at the gym, they were showing the NASCAR race in Virginia Beach (and by the way: what is good/cool/entertaining about NASCAR? I will never understand it. For real.) and they were interviewing some guy named Steve Eubanks and the closed captioning said: "No wwer talkking to Steve you Banks."

What ever happened to pride in your work? I understand people talk pretty fast, but can court stenographers afford this kind of slop in their job? No. Better people than you, Mr. Closed Captioning, or as you might put it, Mr clothes cap shunning, have lost jobs for this junk.

Thursday, October 16, 2003

It's not my inner ear...

but my balance is off. In life, there are people you call when you need to do certain things. Below, an incomplete list.

When I want to...

eat at Chuy's: I call M! or A.
get into general mischief/see most movies: I call M!
eat sushi, see indie movies: I call J.
tell corny jokes: I text message Gav./baby-sit my 3 summer charges
talk about food/wine/life: I call SQP.
pontificate: I call PBRG/post to F-R.
go to a bar: I call my peops.
go shopping: I call M! or E.
get some perspective/advice: I call my therapist or E.
cry, cry, cry/get news/chat: I call my mom or my sister, or E.
hang out and make dinner: I call E.
go for a drive: I call E.
make it through the day: I call E.
act like a goon: I call E.

I often call on many other wonderful people (SC, SS, JL, M2, and A. more than I mentioned her) for many other things (since, I actually *do* other things), but I don't think it's hard to see why I'm feeling out of balance.

E. is not here and I'm heartsick for her. :(

Come back soon.



Wednesday, October 15, 2003

You do not talk about Fight Club.

What is the deal guys?

I am so, so sick of seeing people with email or IM handles that are some variation of Tyler Durden.

You think you're some kind of bar basement cowboy?
You're not.

You think you're Ed Norton's crazy, hot, boxing madman alter ego?
You're so not.

You think you're some kind of sarcastic genius that makes jokes about single-serving friends?
Guess what? No. You're not.

Now grow the hell up and pick some other literary character (I flatter myself that I think you may have actually read the book), tough guy.

What ever happened to...

Miracle Blades I and II?

Tuesday, October 14, 2003

My Unemployment Explained

If only my resumé looked like this, not only would I be hired, but I could run a whole country...or maybe even the world!

(Thanks M! for the link. He is my #1 link-getter.)

The Martin Luther of the Coffee House Circuit

We at French-Roast (and by we, I mean I) are obviously all about our coffee and in regards to obtaining that perfect cup of coffee, I would like to speak out some of my concerns for the future of coffeehouses in this area (by which I mean Houston's inner loop, the only place to live in this urban sprawl). I warn you in advance I plan to be extremely long-winded and have been watching A&E's film adaptation of Pride and Prejudice, so it is likely I will be incorporating antiquated British verbiage from time to time, for which I apologize in advance. (I [heart] you, Jane Austen!)

There are those that might call me heretic for what I am about to say in reference to Brasil, but I would call those same people poseur hipsters and late-night hour whores. Personally, I'd rather be a heretic, though I do believe that cult fans of Brasil are the true heretics. Brasil may be open until 2:00 am (unlike it's nearby neighbor, competitor, and far superior establishment, Empire Cafe, which closes at 10:00 pm on week nights and Sundays), but if you need coffee at 2 am, you need to realize
1) you have a big problem
2) does the quality of the coffee really make any difference at that hour, you shakey, quakey, beatnik-wannabe, patchouli-stink patron? (A: no.) Go to IHOP.

When I attend a coffee house of the sort that decries Starbucks for its corporateness, there are certain--little--services I expect. In most every approximation, Brasil completely let me down. The following is a (brief) list of short-comings of Brasil and I need not say (though M2's friend Alice the Camel finds this an outrage) Diedrich's.

1) Quality. Your coffee should be delicious. Your bread and butter business should be real bread and real butter. Can I speak plainer? Imagine my disappointment when I found your decaf to taste not unlike a solid lump of chutney. I am not a cowboy and this is not the old west. I will not be shotgunning my hot drink and following it with a pile of bacon grease and ranch-style beans with ketchup. Corrollary: Not only is your coffee not particularly good, but you *charge* for refills. Full price. At $2.00/cup, you better be serving me ambrosia. Empire Cafe, however, whose house coffee is consistently excellent is all you can drink. Wouldn't a shakey quakey patron like you prefer a bottomless cup? I thought so. (Note: I am fully aware that Starbucks does not provide refills and charges exorbitant prices, but neither do they serve their coffee in ceramic mugs. This is key and brings me to my next point.)

2) Proper vessels and utensils. If I am to enjoy a cup of coffee at a coffeehouse, I expect a saucer and a little spoon, what the French might call une petite cuillier. Last night, I had to *request* a saucer and spoon after my overfilled mug splish-splashed all over me; I was given an oval-shaped saucer on which my cup did ill fit, and a soup spoon. This is not acceptable; believe that I will pour my coffee on you, should you suggest I use a stir stick in lieu of a proper coffee spoon. This is not the office and I am not watering my coffee down with non-dairy creamer.

3) Service. Owing to the fact that Empire was closed last night for floor repair, your establishment was exceedingly busy and I was unable, for some time, to make it up to the counter to request a refill and close my tab. Your staff did not appear at any time to be circulating. Unfortunately, your well-deserved paranoia regarding your business acumen and stemming from an inferior product has you recruiting all sorts of "musicians" who specialize in loud to draw your patrons. While this was apparently a successful ploy to recruit patronage from those with extensive hearing loss, I, a sensitive listener, was forced to wait over half an hour for a small sandwich (which was suspiciously nestled in a sea of gherkins) and was resolved to quit the place the instant I was finished eating. Need I mention that I am on a first name basis with most of the friendly and attentive staff at Empire? Ordering at Empire is much more of an exercise in standing than at Brasil, I'll grant you, but there is no rush to cram the menu down your throat, nor an extended wait for food once you have placed said order, even on the busiest nights. And never, is one expected to eat one's food while standing, at a long bar in the den o' noise.

4) Cleanliness. Though Brasil may have added a few Ikea lights in the main part of the restaurant (a feat which, in my mind, had much to do with suspicious health inspectors) I stand by my original assertion several years ago that Brasil is, indeed, a dirty place, for dirty people. I must mention however that Brasil has at least one smoke-free room (only partially less-smokey than smoking rooms, but still...), while Empire (and it pains me to say so) has none.

5) Other. Brasil and Empire BOTH choose to have the squeaky, ineffective to-go boxes made of shiny, transparent plastic. These are an abomination. They pop open too easily and make a ridiculous lot of noise, not to mention the space they take up in my trash can. Can't we get some paper or environmentally-friendly styrofoam? Maybe some foil? You both get a scowl and a thumbs down for that.

In conclusion, I submit that though Empire Cafe may have a scant few shortcomings, it is Brasil that performs extremely ill in the MaryT Coffee House Challenge.

Love,
MaryT

Sunday, October 12, 2003

Yeah, well your car smells like poop.

To the person, who knows exactly who he is who said: the script at the top of your page looks like the handwriting of a psychopath.

That's my handwriting for your information, and I have miracle blade III knives that I purchased from an infocommercial.

That is all.

I bet mom's proud.

I am the number one google site for whorey women.

Marchons, Citoyens!

I am absolutely, absurdly hooked on Craig's List! I know I mentioned CL before, but I recently discovered The Best of Craig's List.

Best of CL features such classics as:
-Lines of evidence that my boyfriend is a cat
-Wanted:A Male Wife
-guy I kicked out of bed

and who can forget Let me be your practice boyfriend?

Note that none of these posts is from Houston Craig's List.

Houstonians, this is a call to action: BE MORE FUNNY! (and then post it online, so I can read it and use it as my own material. Thx.)

Friday, October 10, 2003

Overdue.

Dear MaryT,

After a month and a half of penance for many, many evils, during which you endured "the old eye" from most every angsty, outcast teenage boy in Houston, I am releasing you from Puberty Part 2: Electric Boogaloo. I now return you to your regularly scheduled skin.

Love,
God

P.S. Love your blog!

Bad Habits

I don't talk on my cell phone while I drive (mostly), but a habit I have that is much worse is text messaging while I drive. This is something akin to reading while you drive.

Bad news bears.

Sorry, other drivers.

I (heart) txt msgs!

Thursday, October 09, 2003

Competition for FHLB's J-Lo and Ben Marquee

True Value on Westheimer: "Service with a Snarl!"

Faker than Fiction

Do you ever read dialogue in a story and you think: no *way* anyone actually says dumb stuff like that.

Today in Central Market...
cashier: What kind of bags would you like?
me: Paper would be perfect, if possible, please.

I fully arched my eyebrow at myself.

Entirely awesome.

Georgie W. has a blog. Even if it doesn't have funny things like links to craigslist, that is entirely hilarious. Although, if it did have links to craigslist, I might consider voting for the guy. No, seriously. I bet if Bill Clinton had a blog, he'd link to craigslist.

What did that cheerleader say about W.? He's doing an amazingly fantastic job? Here, here!

P.S. You know what else is entirely awesome? Kill Bill, Vol. I. I went to the press screening last night and it rocked me so hard, I needed an aspirin this morning.

Wednesday, October 08, 2003

Screwed.

I am soooooo tired of home improvement. My apartment is turning into the money pit. My arms are sore. My floors are sporting a primer/plaster themed look. I keep sneezing. There is a drill in my bathroom sink, a level on my bedside table, and my cat is sleeping in a cardboard box (not that unusual, actually). One wall in my house is about as tempting as the black hole of Calcutta and for God's sake, I just can't get these screws all the way into the wall. Shelves. :(

Kill me.

Latest Fascination

I have recently been turned on to this weird, weird, oh-so weird site: Craig's List. I recommend it highly if, like me, you like going to the freak show at carnivals and fairs.

This is just one thing I found in the men seeking women section tonight.

American WOMEN suck
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Reply to: anon-17362551@craigslist.org


American Women Suck.

They are boring, spoiled, ugly and materialistic.

That's why so many American MEN marry foreign girls.

It's TIME for American Women to change.


I dunno. He seems sort of lukewarm on his sentiment, what do you think? I bet he's having real luck with the ladies.


Awww damn.

If even California is electing Republicans these days and Kennedys are marrying them, I have no place left to consider moving, except Canada. You know what some people (and by some people, I mean comedienne Kathleen Madigan) say about Canada: it's kind of like your attic. You forget it's there, but when you get there, you're like "Wow, man! Look at all this crap up here! People live here. They work here..."

But seriously folks, I know he's like The Terminator™ and a megastar, but Arnold is a Republican....Surely California knows better than that. I mean, *Nixon* was a Republican governor of California. So was Ronald Reagan for that matter, and what did old Ronnie ever do for you besides awaken you to the truth about alzheimer's and make your parents Reagan Republicans?

I really wish Ann Richards were the governor of Texas again. She was awesome. The best thing I can say about current gov. Rick Perry is "at least he's not W." But he sure as hell isn't Jesse "the Body" either. That's something I need to do: top ten people who would be the best governor ever. 1. Treadmill Guy 2. Rob Lowe 3. Oh, oops, wrong list...

In the meantime, Bill White for Houston. Yay!

Tuesday, October 07, 2003

Bustin' Loose at 20 mph!

Have you ever gotten behind one of those peops that goes like 20 mph (doesn't matter where: freeway, neighborhood, it's all the same) and then suddenly puts on their brakes? He's not turning. No one has stopped short in front of her. You're not tailing him. No animal has run in the road. There is no stop sign. There are only brakes.

The only thing I can figure in this case is that this person is carefully monitoring his speed and when he hits 21mph, he's like-- oh! I'm gettin' crazy now! Better slow down!

Usually, this type of driver has blue hair and drives a Cadillac Sedan de Ville and is quite possibly my dad. But the plot thickens when it's like a twenty-something in a camaro. That's the awesomest.

Camaros. That's funny.

Monday, October 06, 2003

I'd wreck my car to read your funny marquee.

So everyone passes churches that have marquee signs that have obscure bible verses and stuff, which is what you'd expect in front of a church (I guess).

What I really like are unexpected marquee signs. One inner loop favorite (and really, who cares what goes on outside the loop? That's far...) is that of Khyber North Indian Grill (Richmond and Kirby) who changes their marquee in response to whatever the neighboring Pappadeaux sign says.

My favorite one that I can actually remember (though most are much funnier)--
Pappadeaux: Now Hiring All Positions.
Khyber: Now Firing All Positions.

Honorable mention goes to Fly High Little Bunny jewelry who is rapidly moving up in my esteem. They just keep getting funnier. Today, their marquee said on one side:
"Last night I prayed for J-Lo and Ben"
and on the other side:
"Please, oh please, J-Lo and Ben! Don't let love fade!"

That *kills* me. Literally, it almost did. I forgot to watch the road when I was reading these. Oops. But all was well. I gave the nice traffic wave. Sorry southbound drivers of Shepherd at 10 am.

More Notes from the Gym

1. Who is picking the muzak here? Um, can we NOT get Celine Dion all up in it? I feel like I am in a Chrysler commercial when I just want to lift weights. There is never anything remotely decent playing in there. I would settle for Jock Jams even, but for God's sake, Celine Dion and even worse-- imitation, non- steady beat Celine Dion? To quote C.D. herself: "There were nights that just went on for days." That's how I feel when I hear gym music. Thank God for headphones.

2. Some thoughts for partial mullet guy who's sludge-colored polo ('cause that's workout wear) and "white" shorts are rapidly becoming the same color. His workout includes (and is limited to) walking slower than I do from say, the tv to the kitchen, on the treadmill for approximately 20 minutes while checking out all the ladies
a) Yeah. That's gonna happen. EVER. Go back to watching Maury. And eating cookies.
b) Color safe bleach. For rizzle.
c) Supercuts. $10. Yeah.

3. The following people are off the hook (off the hizzle, if you will, M!) attractive:
- Treadmill Guy (who was actually weights guy today, but no need to muddy his true identity)
- Rob Lowe
- CNN Headline News Mid-Morning Anchor
I mean, I'd be sweating already, but it's like someone turned up the heat...bow chicka bow bow (which is not chickyboom beats, btw)

4. Dear Weird Guy who looks a little like my Uncle Pat,
It's considered poor form to walk up to a weight machine the second after someone gets on it and stare at her until she gets off, especially since you used other weight machines afterwards. It wasn't crowded. Didn't you ever play tag? No guarding base....Creepy McWeirdsalot.

Happy Birthday Bumblebee!

Baby Molly is three years old today!

Hooray!

Pssst...Everything on my plate looks like poop.

You know what's weird?

Chinese food is almost universally liked, right? You can say: Hey, let's get Chinese food and in general, no one will be like: ahh man! I hate that stuff! You know: chicken? Good! fried? Good! rice? GOOD!

Even Mexican food, not too many people will grumble about. "It's a tortilla with cheese, meat, or vegetable."

But Indian food? It doesn't take a real special person to be like: Ohhh! My head is exploding with saffron and curry! It's true. Not as many people like Indian food or with any sort of regularity, although admittedly, most of the people who like it a lot are zealots and they keep bugging their friends. "When can we go get a plate full of yellow stuff and bread served by a man who smells like B.O?! Come ON!"

So here's what I figure. China is like a gajillion peops, so they're all set to disseminate their culture. Mexico is kind of backed by Latin America, in the same way that USAA bankrolls me. (?) But India, well, here's their problem. It's not that they don't have enough people because well, they obviously do: they can't unite their fan base.

This is what happened to Spinal Tap and look at those guys.

P.S. Despite all this junk, I have never had a bad meal when dining with Hare Krishnas. My sweet Lord, indeed.

Friday, October 03, 2003

Fan Fic

Thank you to the Comments-shy fans who took the time to write me a note. A common theme in your notes (and by common I mean I saw it in two notes) was the wonder if the posts on F-R are really true.

Of *course* they're true. Everything you read on the internet is true.

Wait a tick.

Would you really be interested in my life if it weren't at all fictionalized? I asked a couple of my friends about this who generously noted that I have a tendency towards hyperbole. (Example-- MaryT says: "There were a million people at the grocery store!" real: The grocery store was kinda crowded. MaryT says: "I've had a MILLION evil boyfriends and I am entirely cynical!" real: MaryT has had a couple of romantic interests who behaved like crackheads and is therefore cranky and a little bit nuts, herself.)

But wait! There's more.

Writer's credo (as imposed by MaryT on 10/3/03): When the truth isn't what you wish, lie.

And remember, truth is the safest lie.

So is F-R fictionalized? I don't know. Is it?

What A Picture is Worth

Do you have any person's Sears Brand Central studio portrait (or better still, Wal-Mart studio portrait!) in your wallet?

I see.

I'm sorry, are you married to this person? Did this person descend from your loins or is there some other type of genetic lineage/relation? Have you been seeing this person for an amount of time that makes you feel as though you might be married, and if you were, it'd be an unhappy one? Are you morbidly obese?

No?

Then WTF is the matter with you?! Sears portraits in your wallet? Seriously. That's ultracorny, even for me and I laughed at the following joke last night (hard):

Q:What's green and says "Hey, I'm a frog,"?
A: A talking frog.

To be fair, I have carried pictures in my wallet of a past bf, but it wasn't a cooky,spooky portrait. It was a picture of B. making a monkey face as he jumped into the Gruene River. I mean, that's just comedy.

And as an interesting side note: I dated J. for a year and can you guess how many pictures of him I have? One, from my birthday, and he's off to the side. For real.

Interesting.

I might just be jealous, ye of the Sears Studio portraits. But probably not, you dork.

Wednesday, October 01, 2003

"I would've grated the hell out of that cheese....because I'm a professional."

The Onion has written my life story. Only, I'm not mentioned one time.

Thanks to M! for bringing this to my attention.

And since it's the first day of the month: Rabbit! Rabbit! or tibbaR! tibbaR!...whichever.