5. That Star Wars sand character in 1979. Why be Luke when you can be a Tuscan Raider?
4. Pillsbury Doughboy in 1987. And y'all thought the fat kid issues were a bit.
3. Chimney Sweeper in 1985 and 1986. Because we just wanted to be like Dad, is all. And changing schools, again, meant yay for non-originality.
2. Chick in 1984. Yeah, the thought of a 9-year-old in drag might be a cry for help, but give us a break. Our Dad fell off a roof that day, and as our Mom applied our mascara, we got the call. So yeah, our mascara smeared and our Dad went as a Mummy when our friends came over for treats.
1. (Tie) Superman in 2004 (complete with Clark Kent costume -- boy do we ever still wish we were Clark Kent sometimes). Orgasm Donor in 2005. We thought it was cute. Our lady friends, well, not so much.
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
GOOD MORNING
And then we grapped the Lactaid Milk, opened the cupboard and, well, sh*t.
Milk doesn't go in the cupboard, silly, the cereal does.
Oops.
Milk doesn't go in the cupboard, silly, the cereal does.
Oops.
Monday, October 30, 2006
We had no idea
It really is a great song, no matter the version.
Our personal favorite is the Dave version with Butch Trucks playing a sweet piano solo. We also did any version Cash did, and we're partial to our own, too.
Huh.
Our personal favorite is the Dave version with Butch Trucks playing a sweet piano solo. We also did any version Cash did, and we're partial to our own, too.
Huh.
Friday, October 27, 2006
"So do you get calls like this all the time?"
"No, not really."
Rosa is our new best friend. She's friendly and nice and pleasant and not quick to judge us for being the technoligical equivalent of a 2-year-old trying to drive stick.
So we got our brand new state-of-the-art cell last night and boy oh boy were we excited to use it. We have great plans for this phone. Like, when it rings, Kris Kross will make us JUMP JUMP. And like, when we want to take a photograph, we can take a photograph with this new polaroid camera.
And even send it places!
So we were all excited.
And then we ran into trouble.
First, we wanted to move all our numbers from the ol' piece o' sh*t car to the new Mercedes. But oh with the drama. Stupid OMS opted to save all his digits on the old SIM card and not the new one.
See, putting the old SIM card, you know, the one that's somewhat rusted and says MA BELL on it, in the new phone is a no-no. So we done f*cked up all the features of our new steak sirloin by using said old card.
No texting. No photographs. No JUMP JUMP.
So we called Cingular last night.
At 12:30 a.m.
With other services, like the Dell, some nice man named Richard who mysteriously says he's from Texas yet has a unique accent that sounds somewhat Indian, is there to help us. Not the Cingular. At 12:30, their offices are closed.
Oh no!
So we patiently waited to call this morning. And we got through. To Rosa.
"Someone deleted all your account information from your phone on the 26th," she said, pleasant as pie (seriously -- she might have been the nicest customer service rep ever).
That's impossible, we said. We ordered our new pearly gates of heaven on the 27th. The 26th was a -- well, wait. We're looking at the November calendar. Oopsies. Yes. the 26th was yesterday and wait, did we delete everything by using the wrong fandangled SIM card?
"Yes, sir," Rosa said. "You did."
So this must happen a lot, right? Like, we're not an idiot?
"Well, I don't get a lot of calls like this," she said. "But you're fine. I'll help you through this."
So boy did we ever learn our lesson about our new MTV Video Music Award. Don't f*ck with the old SIM cards, and don't be, well, stupid.
We're all set now, thanks to Rosa.
The Daddy Mac even made us jump. Whew.
Rosa is our new best friend. She's friendly and nice and pleasant and not quick to judge us for being the technoligical equivalent of a 2-year-old trying to drive stick.
So we got our brand new state-of-the-art cell last night and boy oh boy were we excited to use it. We have great plans for this phone. Like, when it rings, Kris Kross will make us JUMP JUMP. And like, when we want to take a photograph, we can take a photograph with this new polaroid camera.
And even send it places!
So we were all excited.
And then we ran into trouble.
First, we wanted to move all our numbers from the ol' piece o' sh*t car to the new Mercedes. But oh with the drama. Stupid OMS opted to save all his digits on the old SIM card and not the new one.
See, putting the old SIM card, you know, the one that's somewhat rusted and says MA BELL on it, in the new phone is a no-no. So we done f*cked up all the features of our new steak sirloin by using said old card.
No texting. No photographs. No JUMP JUMP.
So we called Cingular last night.
At 12:30 a.m.
With other services, like the Dell, some nice man named Richard who mysteriously says he's from Texas yet has a unique accent that sounds somewhat Indian, is there to help us. Not the Cingular. At 12:30, their offices are closed.
Oh no!
So we patiently waited to call this morning. And we got through. To Rosa.
"Someone deleted all your account information from your phone on the 26th," she said, pleasant as pie (seriously -- she might have been the nicest customer service rep ever).
That's impossible, we said. We ordered our new pearly gates of heaven on the 27th. The 26th was a -- well, wait. We're looking at the November calendar. Oopsies. Yes. the 26th was yesterday and wait, did we delete everything by using the wrong fandangled SIM card?
"Yes, sir," Rosa said. "You did."
So this must happen a lot, right? Like, we're not an idiot?
"Well, I don't get a lot of calls like this," she said. "But you're fine. I'll help you through this."
So boy did we ever learn our lesson about our new MTV Video Music Award. Don't f*ck with the old SIM cards, and don't be, well, stupid.
We're all set now, thanks to Rosa.
The Daddy Mac even made us jump. Whew.
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
"We're going to lose our souls! We're going to lose our souls! We're going to lose our souls!"
So in our dream we strike a deal with the Wicked Witch of the West in order to have fun at a high school reunion. The trick is we have to meet with the Witch at 6:45, as a class, so we don't lose our souls. But ahhh, the hilarity.
At 6, the entire class is in the pool engaged in good times. By 6:30, we're dancing and singing and pegging fellow classmates in the nuts with Nerf footballs. At 6:45, the pool, and the class, vanish.
We realize what's happening, and we calmly panic and run to a nearby picnic table screaming, "We're going to lose our souls! We're going to lose our souls!"
At the table, our parents and kid sis are eating, surrounded by our eight or so good friends we see all the time around town these days. "We're going to lose our souls!" we scream.
"Why don't you sit down and eat with us?" the family asks. Our mom is eating a crab pita.
And then we wake up, singing "Poor Unfortunate Soul" from the Li'l Mermaid.
But HAH! We have it figured out, this dream.
See, we watched Li'l Mermaid Saturday night after the lovely ladies picked us up from the bar. We set our alarm clock for 6:45 this morning last night, fresh off watching the first half of Monday Night Football with eight or so friends at our favorite watering hole.
We received an invite to a recital from a high school friend last night, right before we went to bed.
Our mom always eats healthy.
And we're slowly losing our soul every time we get up and prep for the worst commute ever.
Aha! But the Witch, you ask? For some reason yesterday afternoon, we were researching the Wizard of Oz. Did the midget really hang himself or what?
There. But all those key facts together and VOILA, technicolor dreaming.
And insight into the Ol' Man.
We know y'all were wondering.
At 6, the entire class is in the pool engaged in good times. By 6:30, we're dancing and singing and pegging fellow classmates in the nuts with Nerf footballs. At 6:45, the pool, and the class, vanish.
We realize what's happening, and we calmly panic and run to a nearby picnic table screaming, "We're going to lose our souls! We're going to lose our souls!"
At the table, our parents and kid sis are eating, surrounded by our eight or so good friends we see all the time around town these days. "We're going to lose our souls!" we scream.
"Why don't you sit down and eat with us?" the family asks. Our mom is eating a crab pita.
And then we wake up, singing "Poor Unfortunate Soul" from the Li'l Mermaid.
But HAH! We have it figured out, this dream.
See, we watched Li'l Mermaid Saturday night after the lovely ladies picked us up from the bar. We set our alarm clock for 6:45 this morning last night, fresh off watching the first half of Monday Night Football with eight or so friends at our favorite watering hole.
We received an invite to a recital from a high school friend last night, right before we went to bed.
Our mom always eats healthy.
And we're slowly losing our soul every time we get up and prep for the worst commute ever.
Aha! But the Witch, you ask? For some reason yesterday afternoon, we were researching the Wizard of Oz. Did the midget really hang himself or what?
There. But all those key facts together and VOILA, technicolor dreaming.
And insight into the Ol' Man.
We know y'all were wondering.
Monday, October 23, 2006
Wow. We thought Philly fans were awful.
Overheard in the bathroom in our favorite li'l bar when the Giants were actually, you know, winning the big game against the Cowboys and that #81 fellow: "It's just that this f*ckin' sucks, you know? The Giants control the entire f*ckin' half and then boom, they let the f*ckin' Cowboys back in the f*ckin' game. One more touchdown and it's f*ckin' over for them. They f*ckin' suck."
Yeah. It was 12-7. Jesus, Big Blue, relax.
Yeah. It was 12-7. Jesus, Big Blue, relax.
Sunday, October 22, 2006
Why we tend to never get our hopes up about anything in particular, in a nutshell
From philly.com tonight: Four Eagles turnovers, poor decision-making at the end of the first half and another stupid defensive penalty wiped out statistical domination by the Birds. Philadelphia (4-3) outgained Tampa Bay (2-4) by a staggering 506 yards to 196, but lost.
Remarkably, all three Eagles losses this season have been decided on the last play of the game.
"Four turnovers is too many turnovers against a good football team," Eagles coach Andy Reid said. "We've got to do a better job on that."
And did Donovan hurl something other than three INTs and TDs *during* the game? Jesus, man, pull yourself together.
Remarkably, all three Eagles losses this season have been decided on the last play of the game.
"Four turnovers is too many turnovers against a good football team," Eagles coach Andy Reid said. "We've got to do a better job on that."
And did Donovan hurl something other than three INTs and TDs *during* the game? Jesus, man, pull yourself together.
Friday, October 20, 2006
We're f*cked*
* So this is why we get the cold sores every now and again.
From the Men's Health: What Makes Our Tension Levels Rise:
1. Overbearing boss (+114 percent).
2. Drinking coffee (+32 percent).
3. A tight deadline (+45 percent).
4. Your commute (+80 percent).
5. Late nights at the office (+270 percent).
Sheeeeeeeeeit. We're like Jeter in game one against the Tigers this year with this sh*t. So let's see. That means our daily tension levels are, like, a lot and stuff.
How do we release it? Well, the magazine says run on the treadmill, be happily married, have sex, watch a comedy, meditate and listen to our favorite music.
Is this place not called heaven, save, well, you know?
From the Men's Health: What Makes Our Tension Levels Rise:
1. Overbearing boss (+114 percent).
2. Drinking coffee (+32 percent).
3. A tight deadline (+45 percent).
4. Your commute (+80 percent).
5. Late nights at the office (+270 percent).
Sheeeeeeeeeit. We're like Jeter in game one against the Tigers this year with this sh*t. So let's see. That means our daily tension levels are, like, a lot and stuff.
How do we release it? Well, the magazine says run on the treadmill, be happily married, have sex, watch a comedy, meditate and listen to our favorite music.
Is this place not called heaven, save, well, you know?
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
File this under things that certainly make us stop with the channel surfing
Um. Yeah. Born a what, now?
Monday, October 16, 2006
"Just do your thing, man."
Paris was the coolest cat in the room when Dov's Our Side Project used to jam in Phillytowne.
Why we might be done with wrestling, really, and this time we mean it. Really. For real.
From wwe.com this morning: Steve-O of Jackass was just one of many Hollywood A-listers at the RAW/SmackDown Supershow.
Hollywood A-lister Steve-O? Guess who else showed up with is A-listing self? Oof. Good thing the Six Feet Under is on Mondays at 9 p.m. now on Bravo. We need to replaced a decade of lost hours watching Monday Night Raw.
Stat.
Hollywood A-lister Steve-O? Guess who else showed up with is A-listing self? Oof. Good thing the Six Feet Under is on Mondays at 9 p.m. now on Bravo. We need to replaced a decade of lost hours watching Monday Night Raw.
Stat.
Sunday, October 15, 2006
"That's the first black lady I ever spoke to."
Said by a li'l fella outside the Sheraton in Atlantic City earlier today.
His mom's response? "Well, she was a nice one, wasn't she."
Um. Yeah. A nice one? Jesus.
His mom's response? "Well, she was a nice one, wasn't she."
Um. Yeah. A nice one? Jesus.
Thursday, October 12, 2006
And now presenting the stupidest f*cking thing we've heard all week -- month, even. Ech.
*Cue DRAMATIC music*
ABC Voiceover Guy: MEL GIBSON (dramatic pause). DIANE SAWYER (dramatic pause, intertwined with intriguing conga drums). THE INTERVIEW. TOMORROW. ON GOOD MORNING, AMERICA.
ABC Voiceover Guy: MEL GIBSON (dramatic pause). DIANE SAWYER (dramatic pause, intertwined with intriguing conga drums). THE INTERVIEW. TOMORROW. ON GOOD MORNING, AMERICA.
Because it's all about you
From Reuters/Yahoo: Actor Alec Baldwin tries to pass a police cordon near the site where a small aircraft crashed into a high-rise building in New York, October 11, 2006. (Photo by Chip East)
This ranks right up there with the report that a guy wanted to get back in the building yesterday to check on his dog. On the 8th floor.
Meanwhile, Cory Lidle's wife and son were flying cross country to LA at the time of the accident. Huh. Self-important blowhard actor. Dog-owning worry wart. Brand new widow.
God we want to punch the world in the face sometimes.
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
Where do we even begin
So in our dream last night, we're a teaching aide in a kindergarten class.
We're reading a Dr. Seuss book to our part of the class when cute li'l Amanda hauls off and side kicks us in the nuts. Luckily, we caught the movement to the left of us just in time to avoid a direct blow.
But an indirect blow to the nuts is still a direct blow, no?
So we hobbled to the teacher in the other room and tattled on li'l Amanda. We demanded she get a talking to, but the teacher said all we could do was send her home. We demanded, then, to give her parents a piece of our mind.
"We're going to give your parents a piece of our mind," we told her, grimacing in pain.
She laughed. And then we woke up.
We're reading a Dr. Seuss book to our part of the class when cute li'l Amanda hauls off and side kicks us in the nuts. Luckily, we caught the movement to the left of us just in time to avoid a direct blow.
But an indirect blow to the nuts is still a direct blow, no?
So we hobbled to the teacher in the other room and tattled on li'l Amanda. We demanded she get a talking to, but the teacher said all we could do was send her home. We demanded, then, to give her parents a piece of our mind.
"We're going to give your parents a piece of our mind," we told her, grimacing in pain.
She laughed. And then we woke up.
Sunday, October 08, 2006
Why we like the AP's Kathy Willens
Here's Alex Rodriguez failing again in the playoffs. This is moments after striking out with the bases loaded in the first inning with two outs Thursday afternoon. This is why we blame Mr. Rodriguez, and Mr. Rodriguez alone, for the Yankees ouster Saturday night.
This is also we love us some Ms. Willens and her AP photos. What a great shot of such a mess of a ballplayer.
Man we hate us some Alex Rodriguez.
Presenting our Top 5 lines of the week
YAY! We're back you no-commenting motherf*ckers! We mean, um, we're well-rested and know y'all have so much to do and you come here to quietly stalk the funny. So we're back! YAY!
What better way to come back strong than with our favorite quotes of the week! Yay for hilarity and exclamation points!
5. Nice Lady as the park, noticing our "Future Ex-Husband" T-shirt today: "Huh. I should've gotten my brother that shirt. Now it's too late and it's more like present."
4. The Old Man's old man, while building sh*t with OMS on Saturday: "I need to find a stud."
3. We work in the news business, sort of. This, from one of our secretaries on Monday: "Do you, um, well, do you like need follow the news like, when it happens? Like, do you need to know about things like school shootings 'cause there was, um, one in the Amish part of Pennsylvania?"
2. The Old Man's old man, still building sh*t with OMS yesterday: "So the steps will come out 88 1/4 inches from the landing, but we need to raise the landing by 1 1/16 inches and then we need another 5/16 of room for the joist and after than we're going to need 7 1/3 inches between each step. Follow?"
1. And finally, the lovely ladies last night at dinner: "So yeah, Joe doesn't, well, take care of himself down there. All we ask is you take care of your stuff. And if you expect us to take care of our stuff, and we do, just, you know, take care of yours. Don't not do it. It's gross."
What better way to come back strong than with our favorite quotes of the week! Yay for hilarity and exclamation points!
5. Nice Lady as the park, noticing our "Future Ex-Husband" T-shirt today: "Huh. I should've gotten my brother that shirt. Now it's too late and it's more like present."
4. The Old Man's old man, while building sh*t with OMS on Saturday: "I need to find a stud."
3. We work in the news business, sort of. This, from one of our secretaries on Monday: "Do you, um, well, do you like need follow the news like, when it happens? Like, do you need to know about things like school shootings 'cause there was, um, one in the Amish part of Pennsylvania?"
2. The Old Man's old man, still building sh*t with OMS yesterday: "So the steps will come out 88 1/4 inches from the landing, but we need to raise the landing by 1 1/16 inches and then we need another 5/16 of room for the joist and after than we're going to need 7 1/3 inches between each step. Follow?"
1. And finally, the lovely ladies last night at dinner: "So yeah, Joe doesn't, well, take care of himself down there. All we ask is you take care of your stuff. And if you expect us to take care of our stuff, and we do, just, you know, take care of yours. Don't not do it. It's gross."
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
Gone Fishin'
We're taking a vacation from this here bloggin' here. Sure, we could bitch about shootings and pages and Eagles, oh my, but, well, we need to recharge a bit.
Adios, amigos. We should be back Saturday with jokes galore, and a round-up on how to build steps with the old man's old man. And won't that be a hoot.
Adios, amigos. We should be back Saturday with jokes galore, and a round-up on how to build steps with the old man's old man. And won't that be a hoot.
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