A Saturday Night at a Nice Bar
(I swat the air, in attempts to kill a fruit fly)
Bartender: Did you get it?
Me: Almost. If it's a fruit fly you can usually catch them because they're slow.
Bartender: What's weird is we didn't have fruit flies before you two (my friend T and I) came in...
Me: That is weird, because I heard this bar didn't have syphilis before you got here.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
A Saturday Night at a Nice Bar
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Things that would be entirely inappropriate to say during love making:
#1- "I'm gonna make you scream so loud Marlee Matlin will hear you."
Posted by Rosa at 2:28 AM
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
[For the record, I am at a point in my life where babies are cute, but one better not be coming out from me anytime soon. However, the prospect of children is fairly tempting when I think of fun ways I could mold the little humans. Most of these parenting techniques are probably illegal, which is why they stay on the internet and not in practice. Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you the first installment, undoubtedly of many, of How I'm Going to Eff With My Future Offspring.]
When I have my first baby, I plan on creating a soundless world. That is, aside from the hospital, I will rid our environment of sound entirely. We will not speak, television will be watched on mute, and baby will not leave the house. Given the difficulty of muting ones world, I only intend to keep this up for about 2 weeks, and then, one day, when my baby is awake and in a seemingly good mood, I am going to smile, look it straight in the eyes, and yell BOO! If all goes as plan, this will spark a brriiiillliiannt reaction. Baby surprise faces are funny! We've all seen a baby eat a lemon or something for the first time, and watched the silly faces they make! Imagine something of this scale! Maybe I'll feed it a lemon right before, and then as it takes in the taste, yell "LEMON!". That would be a double whammy of hilarity. That infant will NOT see that coming!
*All of this will be recorded, of course, and placed on the internet, making my child a viral star and inevitably appearing on such shows as Ellen and Oprah...perhaps Dr. Oz if the ears don't react well to the surprise. Anyways, point being, the experiment with turn into a cash cow, and my child's college will be paid for by it, and the kid'll forget it by the time it learns to talk. Winwinwin.
This has been the first installment of How I'm Going to Eff With my Future Offspring.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
College is calling your mother to ask if 2 cupcakes counts as a meal.
To determine whether or not you can take a vitamin that should be taken with a meal.
Monday, September 21, 2009
So a couple of weeks ago Ben & Jerry's Ice Cream announced they would be changing the name of one of their most popular flavors, to support gay marriage rights in America. This is what they changed "Chubby Hubby" to:
Very cute. But my brain has a problem with staying caught up with my eyes, because when I read that Chubby Hubby had been changed for gay rights, and I scrolled down to see the above photo, my eyes saw this: an inappropriate, but technically still applicable new flavor:
Surely I cannot be the only one who saw that! I can't decide if I'm going to hell or if I should start awaiting royalty checks from Ben and Jerry for kickstarting their new X rated line. God knows I could come up with more in no time.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Hey, IMDB, when you do your daily movie quote trivia, you may want to avoid quoting a character whose name is in the title of the film, it just makes it too easy:
Because, you see, now I know the answer's either "Finding Forrester" or "Forrester Gump".
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Dear Tyler Perry,
Because you can play multiple characters in a movie very well. Because you are richer that Jesus (don't get pissy, there are more than 1 Jesui in the world, it's a very common name in Mexico, I just don't know the kid's last name). Because I can tell the difference between any two of your movies trailers at any given time. And because you're probably hankering for an artistic workout: I have a challenge for you.
The next project you produce (which'll likely consist of Medea some other characters whose names you forgot because they aren't "Tyler Perry") should be solely you. What I mean is that, you should do all the jobs on the film. I know that sounds grueling, but, baby, you're strong! You are to be all the actors, the director, the gaffer, the boom boy (that is gonna be tricky! :P ), crafty, wardrobe, all post-pro positions such as editing and dubbing....
and then FINALLY, YOU get to be the audience.
Then maybe you'll know how it feels.
[I'll be awaiting my settlement check for the money I spent on cheap alcohol which your annoying projects forced me to imbibe until I lost at least 2 out of my 5 senses.]
Monday, August 24, 2009
If Axe Body Spray had existed 5,000 years ago, the world would have ended 5,000 years ago.
Because not even a cave-woman would mate with something that smells like that shit*.
*Sorry teenage boys and adult men who are too lazy to shower and/or lacking looks or personality to such a degree that scent is your last chance of procreating. But reeeallllllyyyyy.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
I'm often afraid that today's rap artists over exert themselves. With all the endless bottles of Hypnotiq, Finger Snappin', Collah Poppin' and Roof Rasin' they've got to be physically and emotionally exhausted. So I have begun my pilgrimage to pacify the world of rap one artist at a time. It's simply a process of slowing them down and providing them with a new career in which they can be happy and at ease. Here is my first proposition:
If these disappointed soul-portals don't just jab you in the heart, you might want to check your pulse.
Chamillionaire's songs are a blatant cry for escape. He has been ridin' dirty for so long that he has apparently written a song called "Front to Back", which I can only assume preaches about proper wiping technique for hygienically-challenged female rappers & video girls out there. Where has his dignity gone?! A UTI is not a chain gang from Compton! This man needs a break!
SO Ladies and Gentlemen, I proudly present to you my pride and joy, the President Pro-Tempore of all things smooth jams:
Monday, August 3, 2009
Man! Polaroids are so damn Indie-chic.
Every time I see a Polaroid, I just think "I will never be as cool as that."
I know I may sound like"the Leggings calling the Asymmetric Haircut Spoon", it's simply our love-hate relationship.
I needed to find where all this coolness came from, and, I am proud to announce that I believe I've discovered the basic facets of Indie-Chic Nirvana.
I have illustrated my beliefs in the chart below:
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
I was thinking recently about how celebrities seem to like to die on tropical islands (i.e. Anna Nicole's son), when I was struck with the most brilliant way to leave my very own news-worthy "dead mark".
Here it is:
I'm not guaranteeing I will die on a tropical island, because honestly, I'd rather go to Europe. But everyone else in the world seems to llloooovvvee islands. So, immediately following my death/autopsy/taxidermy whathaveyou, I am going to have myself shipped to some beautiful island to be interred.
That way my future grandchild can say,
"Aww man! Gramma's dead! This is awful!"
and then their sibling can comfortingly reply,
" Yes, but islands are AWESOME!".
Nothing makes a funeral better than a required trip to the tropics!
I also hope for this to be a good bailout card for all future relatives, however obscurely connected. Because, I'll be damned, if my second husbands nieces mother in laws grandson is stuck in some shitty law firm, working overtime, I want him to have a getaway. I will be that getaway. He'll simply tell the boss there's been a family emergency and off he'll go to the tropics! When he arrives on the island, all he has to do is stop by my grave at some point and take a "Certificate of Relative Death Legitimarus", copies of which I will have attached to my grave, either like post-it's or in one of those boxes that relators put floor-plans in. Haven't decided yet.
And I guess there's always the odd chance that one of my spora will be as big a googlephiliac as I, and may find research on me, say on ancestry.com and upon realizing there is no .jpeg image of my actual grave, will feel obligated to capture one hisself. The trend will catch on and lead to a merging of ancestry.com , Expedia and Kleenex. The conglomerate will hopefully be named after me.
So there you have it. I have found a way to make sure my selfishness endureth forever. Because, the excused vacation, fun as it may be, is all possible because of me. It's really my attempt to ensure a kick ass "Cool Mom" status post-mortem.
*** Note to self: Be sure to scout islands before death to ensure soil depth and gauge rainfall. The goal is not to pull a "Poltergeist" every time a rainstorm comes. I ain't no sea-dogs Milk bone.***
P.P.S. RE: 1st entry- I learned the next day that it was the wrong toothbrush. Woof!
Monday, July 13, 2009
Things that are NOT fun to realize after the fact:
-After brushing your teeth vigorously for a couple of minutes, killing cavities galore, and diligently scrubbing with the tongue cleaner, that you're pretty sure your toothbrush is the pink one...Not the orange one in your hand.
Proof that it is God's will that I do not ever get to bed at a reasonable hour:
-Why else would the lame radio channels on TV play the following series of songs, just as I was getting prepared for bed, if not to stop that immediately and begin to boogie & retrogress about my elementary years?
Song One: "All I Have to Give" -The Backstreet Boys (1999)
Song Two: "Whatta Man" - Salt 'n Peppa (1993)
Song Three: "I Don't Want to Wait"-[a.k.a. the Dawson's Creek theme song] Paula Cole (1996)
So, take THAT Scopes v. State!