I tumble for you…

April 18, 2010

"The Dumping Place for the Working Man"

There are few times of the year I enjoy more than mid-Spring.  Sure the pollen is so bad it makes you want tear your eyes out with grapefruit spoons and serve them to a little-f*cker-just-tore-through-your-trash raccoon.   But everything else is so wonderful about it, you find yourself not missing them so much.  For me, it’s not just the removal of our trailer-style window film or the fact that we can lock the kids out on the back porch for hours at a time that makes me feel so high — it’s the freshly warm breezes and crinkling of young tender leaves.  The sight of little boys peeing freely in the neighbors bushes and unleashed dogs humping park benches.  The energy that once again returns after the long months of frigid air and darkness.  Good or bad, illicit or illegal, I take it all in with the eagerness of Ronald Miller on his first day of Senior year.

I have found this year to be particularly enjoyable as I’ve been able to celebrate not just the glorious “Open Season” weather, but the return of Mayor McChaise to her deliciously trendy furniture blog.  Oh how I’ve missed her and the constant reminder that no matter how many layers of ‘double the toddlers’ are embedded into our couch cushions, there are plenty of people out there who make my décor look [almost] ready for Park Avenue – crusty fluids and all.


He’s Mr. Brightside…

April 15, 2010

The best thing about having my own blog is that I get to make all the creative decisions.  Wanna make the font 36 point, flashing yellow-and-red?  I’m game.  Wanna lead each entry with an off-the-cuff Pop Culture reference or inflammatory comment?  Sure thing kid.  Wanna showcase photos of half-naked seniors playing BINGO during happy hour at the local Mexican Cantina?  You got it.  Anything I want goes in Webie World and that’s what makes this place so Goddamn special.  See?  Inflammatory rules.

I'll pick you a winner!

I find myself in a current state of “what-the-hell-am-I-doing-with-my-life” and really need to find something that better puts all my glorious talents to use.  What talents, you ask?  Well…there’s my ability to make 3 rounds through the office every morning shaking hands and kissing ass babies before the day begins.  I often joke that I should be in Public Relations.  Then I realized that ‘public’ wasn’t the word I thought it was and decided not to make the move.  So that leaves me back at “what-the-hell”.  One thing I can tell you is that I’m definitely going to continue to work in a creative field.  Please – was that even in question?  Let’s be honest…I’m pretty darn good and whipping up just about any frothy goodness someone could order at the counter, complete with tri-colored umbrella and bendy straw at no extra charge.  Yep.  I go above and beyond.  For now, I’ll stick with what I know.  And that’s excessively loud talking, gossip-laden phone calls and bitch-moan-and-complain sessions at least 4 times a day.  But if anyone out there knows where those qualities might be found of value – please let me know and I’ll be happy to….  Wait.  What’s that?  Drive-time radio*?  Are you kidding?  Sh-yah.  As if I’m the type who enjoys blowing air horns, daring dumbasses to eat table spoons full of dry cinnamon and flirting with the traffic copter pilots just so I gain a reputation and start a blog and make bank off the ad revenue.  Sorry, I think you’ve got the wrong gal.  But thanks for the suggestion.

*Hey Connecticut School of Broadcasting: CALL ME!!


Here she comes again…

April 12, 2010

You can only keep a good woman down so long — and I’m a pretty fantastic woman — so 6 months seems about right.  I’ve not been away so much as grinding on the corporate stump.  What is it that’s brought me back? Blame the jogging, blame the lack of creative outlet, blame the hormones, blame HootSuite being down for maintenance.  Either which way, I’m back to stay.  So get out of my way…and listen to what I have to say.

Ok, so I’m a little rusty but it won’t take me long to get back into the swing of things here in Webie World.  You all are about to embark on the journey that will take me through this summer into ‘official’ middle-age, and you all know what that means.
Cue Tom Petty: BREAKDOWN!


Water flowing underground…

November 10, 2009

The Rican Suave says it all — without saying a word:

I have lots of fun photos and commentary all sliced up and ready to go, but I find myself only wanting to point out two things tonight.  Oh come on now…don’t do that.  I’ll come back with all the other goodie-gumdrops I have saved up for you.  I’ve had some time alone and believe me – when I haven’t been locked up at my office, I’ve been watching.  People watching.  And let me tell you — there are some real treats out there.  Never mind that I just got around to indulging in the almost-pregnant fiasco that was “Temptation Island“.  Bless Fox Reality Channel.  Just when I thought they couldn’t give me anything better than “Househusbands of Hollywood“, they run an all-day-Sunday (the answer is yes, I do see the irony in that) marathon of this tasty little cream pie.  The only thing that would have made that one-spin-around-the-lineup better was to see some actual hook-ups.  A kiss here.  A flirty touch there.  Please.  I did more with —-

— it’s a good thing for all of us that I’m learning how to stop myself before I take a thought into ‘that place’ and inadvertently induce more vomiting than a bottle of ipecac.  I’m sure my —-

— damn.  I’m getting good at this.


And for our main feature – this guy:
Not foolin' anyone jackhole.

Seriously.  I cannot figure this parking situation out.  Some might say that I need to “let it go” and “get a life” and “who really cares?” or “why does it bother you so much?”.  Let me be clear: things that make people look like they’re either freaks or weirdos or dead or mooching free, covered parking fascinate me.  I make up all these wild stories in my mind about why that car would have been planted in the spot directly behind mine (it might not be assigned but I always get there first) for over 3 weeks to then suddenly move 50 feet and be planted over there for another 2.  What gives?  And before you all start telling me that the person might actually be getting there before me and leaving after me I’m telling you — that is IMPOSSIBLE.  How do I know?  For one, I’ve been working a stupid amount of hours in the absence of my family being home these past 2 weeks.  For the other?  I stick leaves on the tires to see if they move.  Who’s the freak now.  Huh?  HUH??  That’s what I thought.

Monday’s FRIENDS Challenge:
I found myself quoting Joey’s famous line “…and that’s Wednesday.” while telling someone in my office about the same conversation that seems to come up week after week after week.  I don’t care that it was really Monday.  This clip is too funny to pass up.


On the dock of the bay…

November 4, 2009

6-Degrees of FRIENDS: Day 1

Turns out my little “experiment” about whether or not I really would be able to put-my-fanny-where-your-mouth is and link an event in my day back to a specific FRIENDS episode was a success.  At 1PM ET I was offered a leftover sandwich during a staff meeting.  Free food is something I don’t take lightly and once the score is made – no one better mess with my find.  As a coworker leaned over in a half-funny attempt to snag my sandwich, a classic Ross moment immediately came to mind and I couldn’t help but blurt out “MY SANDWICH!?” right there at the meeting table.  Go ahead and sigh out loud at my stupidness in the office space…I don’t care.  It’s all worth it knowing no one will ever dare touch this wanna-be-fat-girl’s food*.

*I easily could have made this a double-dip into the funny FRIENDS pool by including a clip of Joey.  Ah hell.  I’ll just go ahead a blow my load.


The spiciest number in town…

November 2, 2009

Like the placards of the evening cleaning crew – so are the nights of my life.


I usually try not to fall down in front of other people unless I’m either really drunk or just feel like getting some extra attention.

Maybe it’s all the long hours and late nights at the office but I have an idea to embark on a new blog.  An experiment of sorts where no one will have to wear nipple clips and all the animals can sleep without fear of being shaved.  Since I already drive those around me crazy with my never-ending comparison of my daily life to one of many brilliant FRIENDS episodes (the greatest television show of all time — ALL TIME) I figured why not start a blog where I compare the days events to a classic episode.  I’ve sworn six-ways-from-Sunday that just about every situation in my life can be linked back to that situation comedy* so why not annoy the web masses with my genius?  I know, I know…I think it’s a pretty fantastic idea too — and no, you cannot “steal it” and pass it off as your own.  You can have Seinfeld.  I never got much into that show anyway.

*This episode has come to mind a lot lately with my working so late into the night these past few weeks.  While I’m not going to tell you that the scene I’ve selected has happened to me while at the office – I’m not going to tell you is hasn’t either.  Let’s just say…I’m sharing it for it’s “balls out there” style.


He is a pig…

October 28, 2009

ass-faceIf there was ever a photo that represented “a week in the life of webie gal”, this is it*.  Doesn’t that stupid little kitten think he’s just so cute.  Don’t be fooled.  A moment after this photo was snapped, there is no doubt in my mind that this kitten went crazy-from-all-the-syphilis and left at least 2 dead and another 4 injured before fleeing the scene.  See?  That’s the difference between me and a lot of other people — I can see through the disguise.

*Please do not mistake my using the term “this is it” as some shameful ploy to hype the repugnantness that is dead Michael Jackson movie-music-circus.  While I no doubt enjoy (most) of the music he left behind, I have no desire to sit through a money-grubbin’ theatrical event.  Let’s be honest…if I want to see over 90 minutes of crotch grabbing – I’ll spend an afternoon with my 4-year old son.