The Wheels on the Bus Make Me Drop it Like It's Hot!

For some masochistic reason I decided to go shopping today. Not only do I hate shopping but it is also 102 degrees outside. I was on my way back and was standing at a bus stop in the heat about to die, when bus pulls up. My overwhelming feeling of relief was cut short when I looked up and saw "OUT OF SERVICE" on the top of the bus. Apparently, I am too good looking to pass by I looked as if I was about to die, because the bus door opens:

Bus Driver: "get in, it is too hot out there for you to be standing around"
Me: "You are my favorite person on the Earth"

** I get on the empty bus and remember that there is a rule for this. Anytime, I, and the people with me, get on an empty subway car or bus, a dance party MUST be called**

Me: "Since you are so awesome I will now have a dance party and you are invited, if you so choose"
BD: "well if I must, I must"

We proceeded down 1st Ave to my stop, while jamming out. A few blocks later he dropped me off and we parted ways. As far as best bus rides, this one is SO much better than when I saw the bus driver beat up the 9 year old in the Bronx.

Just when I think I left the crazy at work..... I meet the ketchup

I went out for 132 a few drinks after work tonight with a coworker. As we are sitting there drinking, engaged in completely mature and appropriate adult conversation about the Holocaust, Labradoodles and the crucifixion (the Jesus one), the ketchup on our table decided to commit suicide. No, it was not a respectful suicide, it didn't eat a bunch of pills or run away to jump off the Manhattan Bridge (oh haven't you heard... the Brooklyn Bridge is SO last year, and the 59th St bridge is too groovy for all that death)... NO, our ketchup decided to be completely dramatic and jump off the table onto the sidewalk. Luckily, there was a crazy dude hanging out on the curb that was apparently "triggered" by the pile of red splat and loud noise, because he was able to start screaming about his 19 y/o friend that died yesterday which totally took the attention away from the gory scene of the pile of dead ketchup.

The waitress drink lady came over and saw the horrific scene and sent a guy with a broom over. While he was sweeping up ketchup, with a broom, on the sidewalk, I looked at him and said "I am so sorry for your loss". The sweeper looked up at me and said "no problem, this happens all the time". Shocked that this was a regular thing at this bar, I got a little upset and started my screaming at the sweeper "YOU SHOULD LEARN TO TREAT YOUR KETCHUP BETTER AND MAYBE THEY WOULD NOT ALL BE TRYING TO KILL THEMSELVES". He looked a little confused, and looked at me as if to say "what the hell is wrong with you". I took this opportunity to point out he was the one SWEEPING ketchup with a broom on the sidewalk.

If you want to see me cry, call me Jane

There are some things that I live in constant fear of becoming. I know, I know you are going to try to tell me it is unlikely that I will become a crack whore slinging tricks on the corner, a midget, a cast member of Jersey Shore, or Gary Busey's love child but I assure you, life can take quick turns and *BOOM* you find your self offering a trucker named Bubba a choice between purple or green condoms. I try to not discount that we are ALL just a few life decisions from being what we promised ourselves as children we would never be. (i.e. I made one wrong turn and now I am a therapist). There is a list of things I fear, but this weekend I left home without my wallet and my biggest fear of them all became a very real possibility.

It was the most stressful 4 hours and 32 minutes of my life. Not having an ID means that if I get kidnapped and tossed in the park like bag of garbage, I will become a JANE DOE. Can you think of anything sadder? There are all the normal reasons that this is saddest thing ever:

• It means you have most likely had a REALLY BAD day
• Your family has no idea where you are
• You are probably dirty
• Your favorite jeans are most likely ripped
  
• Your entire name only has 2 syllables
• If your bruises heal and you go out for a much needed beer, you may not get served without an ID
• Even though you may have done nothing wrong, you get a police sketch that gets printed in the papers so when your college professor is flipping through to find the Sudoku puzzle they catch a glimpse and think you are wanted for some horrible crime and mouth "I always knew it" to themselves.

These are all good reason for not being a Jane Doe, however, there is one, more terrifying possibility. It is totally possible that if you leave home without any ID and get kidnapped and your skull gets crushed in before you are dumped in the park like a bag of trash, the police may need make a clay model of your skull to recreate what you look like so your family may recognize you and claim your remains.

I challenge you to tell me there is something worse than having the last images your family and friends will remember of you looking like this.

Tell me who you are... you have a minute and a half... GO!

Last week was Kid week on Jeopardy. My favorite week! I am able to lay the smack down on those snotty little know-it-alls. This week I find myself back to the grind of sitting on the couch at 7:30 watching 3, socially awkward contestants fight over who knows more about 750BC or the government of Djibouti. As I sit here, feeling like less of a person because after 31 years, I still do not know what the damn Potpourri category is about, I am left only to wonder about the mini interviews Alex does after the first commercial break.

These people have 1.5 minutes to tell the world who they are. This is their big chance to make their friends and family proud and to make themselves look like they might not be the nerdy, socially awkward person we all know they are. I find it hard to believe that EVERY SINGLE PERSON that goes on Jeopardy freely gives the dumbest story they can think of, so I am left to think that they are given a formula they, no doubt, HAVE to follow. After much Vodka research, I think I have cracked the code.

topic that is randomly chosen by looking at some ink blots
+
story from at least 10 years ago (since all the recent years are only stories about how you have sold your soul and no one find that funny)
+
from a time in your life that you felt you were much hipper than you actually were
OR
a moment of trauma that you feel you can laugh at now
=
1.5 minutes of complete senseless stupid story that makes me lose IQ

I am willing to admit, that my dreams of going on Jeopardy are as far gone as my virginity, however, I still want my 1.5 minutes to tell my most important story utilizing the Jeopardy Formula.

Alex: It says here that you owned a 2D bird?
Me: HaHa, yes Alex that is right. When I was a child I had a bird that my mother got me for my birthday. My sister and I were laying on the floor one night watching TV and the bird was walking on her back when we fell asleep. I woke up to my sister screaming and looked at the floor and saw the flattened bird that my sister had apparently slept on.
Alex: I bet that was the last bird your mom bought you.
Me: No doubt, that bird sucked!

--Cue inappropriate audience laughter--

Just Another Reason Falkore is Cooler than Brooklyn Dragons.

There are Dragons that live above the elevator at work. I try not to talk about them because the staff freaks out at Bed Bugs, I can only imagine what they would do if they knew we worked with dragons. I know they are there because I am smarter than anyone I work with I hear them all the time when I am in the elevator. They make a lot of mechanical sounding noise, they breathe fire explaining why it is always so hot and sometimes they get pissed and decide they do not want to elevator to work anymore.

I got to work today and get into the elevator, at which point I hear all the dragons going nuts. I have always had suspicion that they have raging parties that start the moment we all leave work on Friday. Naturally, I thought that they partied so hard this weekend that they forgot to settle it down by Monday morning, but by the time I got down to the Basement, I realized that they were not partying at all. They were pissed, and it was going to be one of "those days".

I went to my office and saw on my calendar that I have one of the most dreaded meetings ever today. I decided to make these two unfortunate things work for me.... because when it comes down to it, I AM a Silver Lining kind of girl. So I proceeded to ride the elevator up and down over and over again for 3 hours. I have learned that the dragons enjoy when I do Kung Fu Fighting while alone in the elevator, so I resisted the urge today, because ultimately I was there to piss them off. Instead, I opted for the Macarana to pass the time. I knew I was on the verge of seeing the dragon's true rage when I had to go to my meeting. Not 10 minutes after I left for my meeting, the dragons finally felt the rage and shut the elevator down trapping a client in it. DAMN YOU DRAGONS THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ME TRAPPED IN THERE BUT INSTEAD I SPENT 2 HOURS IN POINTLESS MEETINGS WHEN I COULD HAVE BEEN SITTING IN AN ELEVATOR WAITING ON GOOD LOOKING FIREFIGHTERS!!!!! Falkore would have never let me down like that.
I only tell you this story because tomorrow is "Embrace your Geekness Day", and if you are looking for a way to cheer me up after my horrible day..... I offer you this FANTASTICALLY AWESOME IDEA!

Please don't tell Vodka!!!!

Dear Absinthe,

Every night as I go to bed, I spend a few moments going over the topics that I consider to be approved dream topics for the nights entertainment. You know like zombies, becoming president of the vampires, the four horsemen finally wanting to hang out with me, space camp, Jenny Jones vs. Sally grudge match, escaped convicts, or running through the food court arm in arm with Kirstie Alley. Last night, you snuck into my sleep movie without being invited. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed watching as I was attacked by a Komodo Dragon while all my friends sang Sweet Caroline and sipped you, but I feel that you are coming on to strong.


I only bring this up because we will be hanging out tonight and I do not need you getting the wrong idea. Sure, it is true you make me feel prettier than my tiara does and I really like the warm fuzzy feeling you offer, but I need to be very clear: I AM HEAD OVER HEELS IN LOVE WITH POTATO JUICE!!!! I have no room for another full time relationship. I know this is hard to hear and you are going to try to change my mind but I think we should make a deal before things get out of control. So I am going off the record and suggesting that maybe you if play your cards right, we could be friends with benefits.


Tootles,

Subliminally Incognito

Welcome Summer

On my way home from work, I broke the monotony by eavesdropping on a couple on the subway:

Girl: "My panties are SO wet"
Boy: "That's hot"
Girl: "Not really, my ass cheeks are just sweating a whole lot"

I almost asked her to be my friend.

Goofus knows that Gallants art sucks... so he pisses on it

My favorite day of the month at work is when we get the new Highlights Magazine, mainly because I OWN SO HARD at all the games. I am honestly waiting for the world championships to get started on the Hidden Pictures so I can become an instant thousandaire. The one thing that really pisses me off is when I turn to the pages where children send in "poems" and crappy art work.

I was so offended last month by a kid from WV, that I couldn't sit by and do nothing.

First, when have you seen a deer that was 4 shades of crayon vomit.

Second, I find one deer using the other deers antlers as "handlebars" while they engage in whatever it is they are doing to be a bit remnant of college costume parties where I wore pigtails something this kid is much to young for.

Third, judging by the antlers on both animals, I find it interesting that this 5 year old used 2 male deer to pose in this manner.

So I did what any concerned adult that was worried about the future of our species would do, I emailed Highlights Magazine to tell them of my concern.

From: Subliminally Incognito
Sent: Tuesday, June 1, 2010
To: eds@highlightscorp.com
Subject: Devil Children

Dear Highlights,
I fear that you are encouraging kids to suck and this makes me sad. I am requesting that you start highlighting (ha ha did you see what I did there) only talented children in the "Your Own Pages" section of your magazine. I hate to think that these kids are getting a false sense of self esteem when you "Publish" their work as if they have made a true piece of art. I would be willing to bet if you went back in your archives you have art work that was published from a young Gary Busey only furthering my point that you are setting up loser children to think they are capable of more than cleaning toilets.

Cheers,

Subliminally Incognito

I never got a reply, but I think they heard me based on this months issue. They have now started publishing pictures of talentless children being executed by firing squad.

My job here is done.