Prego. Not the spaghetti sauce.

So, me and some pals went to out on Saturday night. We met up with some other pals, who in turn, had some pals with them. So, we are in a large group at the bar, and we are all chatting.

There is a girl in the group, wearing one of those spaghetti strap tank tops that are fitted around the boobs and then baggy from the boobs down. Black with sequins...it was a cute shirt. I'll give it that. But when everyone at the bar wonders why the pregnant chick is taking shots, you might want to reconsider your outfit. She looked pregnant. Several months prenant. She was a thin girl...but that shirt made her belly look like she had stuffed a small stuffed penguin under there. It was the major topic of conversation.

Turns out, she was not pregnant...big surprise, Ms. Lush. But I advise all the women out there to verify with friends you can trust...not that girl who always tells you you look fabulous, because lets be honest, sometimes you look you got run over by a truck. Pick that friend who you can count on for the truth. You don't want to be the 'wanna-be prego-girl' at the bar. If you wanna be prego, pretending isn't the best solution. Take that penguin out of your shirt and get laid.

Results are not garaunteed, but highly probable.

For the rest of us, it made for a quality night of people watching.

Hot dates.

The ladies in my office (there are only 4 of us), are always trying to set me up. Always.

This is an email from Cindy about the cute guy who sits behind her:

"He is better looking up close! He is an Architecture major/ooh! artsee babe. I know are looking for a geek…but u never know he may wear black socks with his running shorts!"

By George, I think they have it! They have finally figured out what makes my loins quiver. A man with black socks and shorts. The only thing missing is some suspenders and a wife beater with those shorts and you have my dream man.

I am proof that there is someone for everyone.

Victor is my hero.

In an email discussion with my French friend, Victor, I used the phrase "dumb as a doornail". Victor, being French and relatively new to the stupid things Americans say, did not understand what 'dumb as a doornail' meant, or what a 'doornail' was.

I think he figured it out.

-----Original Message-----
From: Victor [mailto:thefrenchguy@yahoo.fr]
Sent: Wednesday, March 29, 2006 1:49 PM
To: Christy (CM)
Subject: RE: Geek Humour

After a bit of research, I think "dumb as a doornail" is a malapropism. The expression actually is "dead as a doornail." But I've heard "dumb as a doorknob," so you're not that far off from correct cliché usage. Dead as a doornail is an oldie. Even William Shakespeare used it a couple of times, as did Charles Dickens. Experts disagree on why doornails would be described as dead, though the alliteration is very nice.

The leading theory is that the doornail in question in this phrase, which can be traced all the way back to 1350, was a small metal plate nailed on a door that visitors pounded with the knockers attached to it when announcing their arrival. This poor nail would have had its life bashed out of it by visitors and their repeated rapping. Life (and any kind of intelligence) would eventually be pounded out of the 'nail' in that way. Although one might wonder why these doornails would be regarded as any 'deader' than say, coffin nails is a mystery. I guess this particular nail was clearly very unresponsive and dead to the constant assault, hence the saying.

********

I'm pretty sure 'malapropism' is a French word.

He also didn't know what a 'chubby' was. We are all hoping he uses it inappropriately at the workplace.

HYSTERICAL.

Well, maybe not. But Erik sent it to me, and apparently, we are the only 2 people in the whole of the universe that think this is funny (except for the people who wrote it - I'm sure THEY think they are funny).

http://www.cockeyed.com/inside/howmuchinside.html

I think it is hysterical. I almost peed my pants at the Chevy Trailblazer and the Salsa ones...did I mention that I was alone in my cubicle on a Saturday?? Either I am a complete tool with no sense of humor or you guys suck ace and I don't want to be your friends anymore. Odds are, I am a complete tool. I thank you for being my friend for this long. I pay you well, so I'm not surprised you keep hanging on.

If you know the people who own this website, let me know. I want to be their friend. I would fit in nicely.

Spring Break 2006.

I haven't gotten around to writing about Spring Break yet because there is just so much to say and so little time to write it, seeing as how I think I am a rockstar. First of all, we all know I am not a rockstar. Second of all, we all know that I have none of the qualities required to become a rockstar. So what's the problem? I'm an idiot. But regardless, I am going to list the topics that need to be covered in the Spring Break Recap so I don't forget any highlights. Then, later, I will come back and discuss them in detail. For now, just use your imagination.

Hitchhiking
Hector and his European friends with the little penises
LA Boyfriend
Canadian Boyfriend
Karaoke
Retainers
Threesomes
Fat Bitch
Nads
Party Favors
Husband
18-packs
Beer bongs
Canada
Octopuses

That will pretty much cover the highlights of the trip. I'll write it eventually. I promise. This rockstar thing has got to stop. On Thursday. I'm not going out on Thursday. Don't even ask. I'll be sitting at home watching my TIVO. Until then...VIVA LA BEER!

Brokeback Mountain II

Beto send this to me and his comment was, " I'm going to skip the first one, but HERE's a movie worth seeing.............."



Hahaha.

Disclaimer: It's a joke. Laugh. If you're upset, call your mom. She loves you no matter what. My love highly conditional.

Living in Filth.

So, my friend Kevin, who is still in college at A&M lives in a house with 2 (I think) other guys.

Story set-up: While I realize this is the norm for college guys, it's still gross. The house is in Bryan, behind Northgate and is quite old. The living room consists of 7 couches, none of which match, none of which are even slightly clean and none of which I would dream of touching with my bare skin (elbow, foot, etc...), some very clever Kramer wall-art and a TV. The floor is sticky. There is crap everywhere. The stickiness continues into the kitchen where there are piles and piles of dirty dishes on top of even stickier countertops. A poker table doubles as a kitchenette - where I am certain no one in their right mind would actually eat. To the right is the "game room". The game room is where they store the kegs for their parties and if they did lots of drugs, this would be where they did it, but they don't, so it just looks dark and scary. Once again, we have couches and chairs...don't actually touch them. You might shrivel up and die. Down the hall, the sticky floor continues. Enter the bathroom and you enter the majesty that is a bathroom that 3 college guys share. Use your imagination. It's disgusting. Kevin's bedroom is actually pretty clean (considering), so we won't judge that too much. He DID let me sleep in his room when I evacuated for Rita...that bia.

Anyways, back to the meat of the story...

So, Kevin's house is filthy. Well, the boys leave for the weekend last weekend. The front door is funky and you have to shut it just right or it pops back open. Well, someone didn't shut it just right. It popped open. The neighbors, upon noticing this, call the cops thinking someone has broken into the house!! Mon dieu!! The Bryan Police, having nothing better to do, arrive quickly. They enter the house and after doing a thorough search cannot decide if the house has been broken into and ransaked or if these guys actually lived like this. After a few phone calls, everything was cleared up and it was determined that my friends live in filth. The guys are so disgusting that police, people who specialize in fighting crime and investigating crimes, cannot even determine if a crime has taken place. I mean, I think my house is gross, but I don't think cops would ever question whether or not I had been robbed.

Mops are our friends.

Here's to you...

I respect the hell out of these people. http://sports.espn.go.com/mlb/news/story?id=2362369

Here's to you Mr. Donut Hamburger Inventor. Only a man could create a sandwich with 45 grams of fat. I'd take my hat off for you, but I can't get my fat arms up that high. Here's to you Mr. Donut Hamburger Inventor.

Out of context.

From: Victor [mailto:thefrenchguy@yahoo.fr]
Sent: Thursday, March 09, 2006 10:23 AM
To: Christy (CM)Subject:
RE: Soccer schedule

Can I put this email on my blog? I don't have a blog but if I did I would. Because out of the context, that would be a great quote, maybe you should add it to your blog...

"I want a hot guy on my back...if I am gonna love him, I at least want him to be hot. Because we all know that looks are all that matter." - Christy, March 2006.
_____________________

...Welp, I'm headed to Spring Break 2006 this weekend...I'll fill you all in next week on the diseases and nekkidness we uncovered on South Padre Island. I can't wait. 18 year-old boys...here I come!!!

Survival of the Fittest.

How I have friends? I have no idea. How I graduated from college and got a degree? I have no idea. How someone, not only employed me, but hasn't fired me yet? I have no idea.

Today is Thursday. I paid bills on Tuesday. Brought said bills to work to mail (my mail person refuses to pick up my mail - or deliver it for that matter). Put bills in malbox. Today, of course, the bills had been taken to the post office to continue on their worldy journey. As I am walking down to the crapeteria at work, it occurs to me that I never put stamps on the envelopes. What an idiot. I should be shot. Or at least taken out of the human race. Stick me in the ape cage.

So I try and call all my bill people, but I can't remember what all the bills were for...phone? Electric? Gas? Insurance? Who the hells knows. All I know is that they are all due sooooon. I call around. Every person I talked to laughed at me. Is it really so uncommon? But, I think I got everything taken care of...the bill collectors won't be coming 'round the mountain anytime soon. I hope.

My brain is the size of a peanut. I'm like one of those huge dinosaurs with the tiny brains. Me = brontosaurus.

Edward 48 Hands.

I'm not totally sure why we thought this would be a good idea, but I am young and stupid...and they are even younger, more stupid and impressionable. Sooo, I convinced my sister, her roomate, and her best friend to play Edward 48 Hands. Typically, this is a game played with 2-40 oz. beers and is called Edward 40 Hands, but we aren't so young and so stupid that we thought our bladders could handle that sort of torture. So we modified the game to 2-24oz. cans - hence, Edward 48 Hands. The guy at the gas station knows my sisters name...should I be proud? I can't decide. He sold us 24 ouncers and 2 rolls of duct tape. Object of the game: finish your beer without peeing your pants...cause you can't go until you finish the beer. Beautiful.


Good times with the hippies in Austin.

Taco Bell Addiction!!

Email from Victor, my French friend who had never had a donut...until today. He said "I was impressed - not stroke by the magic - but impressed :)" But Victor has another addiction - Taco Bell. I can appreciate this.

In reference to my explaining about the donut-fasting:

-----Original Message-----
From: Victor [mailto:thefrenchguy@yahoo.fr]
Sent: Friday, March 03, 2006 1:30 PM
To:Christy (CM)
Subject: RE: Soccer schedule

Oh, I took the same kind of resolution with fast food 5 months ago... When the Taco Bell window man knows you by your name and gives you free tacos, I think it was time for me to stop. It is now forbidden food. And I don't miss it. I don't miss it. I don't miss it :)

Sweet Potato Queens.

An exerpt about obituaries and funerals from "God Save the Sweet Potato Queens" by Jill Conner Browne:

"A good friend of Tammy's, Alex, said she doesn't care all what they say about her when she is gone, she just wants to be buried in cheese. She envisions a huge coffin-shaped hunk of cheese with a hollowed out space in the middle for her. She didn't specify a preference for the type of cheese, having never met one she didn't want to spend eternity with."

I don't know Alex, but I want to be just like her when I grow up. Although I do have a cheese preference...no crumbly cheese and no american cheese. Please and thank you.

(if you haven't read any of the Sweet Potato Queens books, go for it...they are hysterical. like, laugh out loud by yourself on the crowded airplane hysterical)

Math dorks.

If you respect yourself as little as I do, you will think this is funny. If you respect yourself more than I do, you probably aren't my friend and therefore aren't reading my blog.

I recommend listening to 'Finite Simple Group' under the Media tab...hysterical. And totally dorky. http://www.kleinfour.com/

Support these nerds...buy their cd. They need all the money they can get...otherwise they will never get a date.

70 days donut-free.

Donuts are my addiction and one great love. Hi, my name is Christy and I am addicted to donuts.

From the desk of Kate: http://lifetakesvisa.msn.com/default.aspx?source=email&keyword=WILL_POWER

I love donuts. I love donuts so much. Especially white frosted with sprinkles.

Top 13 Greatest Nights EVER (I assume the list will be ever changing, so check back for updates):

Note: It has been brought to my attention that there is no way that these nights could be the best nights EVER, seeing as how they don't center around 'the best thing ever' (make your assumptions). My response to that comment is that the list that revolves around 'the best thing ever' is an entirely different list and will not be posted on my blog because my mom reads it, and that's just wierd. That's not to say that 'the best thing ever' didn't happen on any of these nights, it's just saying that the night would have been great regardless of whether or not I scored (hard to believe, I know). Go team.

10. Thanksgiving break, freshman year in college: The time when I felt the need to jump into bed with my parents. This event was preceeded by a trip to Have a Nice Day Cafe where Ian's brother served me many many fishbowls of booze.

9. Sometime my junior year in high school: The night when me, Ben, Ian and that annoying girl Cassie drank tequila shots in the road in front of Ian's house. Went home and mom wanted me to help her paint. Ouch.

8. January 2006: Mullet Night at the Aeros, followed by Mullet Day at St. Arnolds and The Wet Spot. 3,000 people in Joe Dirt wigs - can life get better? I submit that it cannot. More pictures of the moo-lay can be found on my picture gallery...

7. Decemeber 22, 2005: BRI Christmas Party 2005. Thanks for the booze, Lino. You really helped a sista out that night!!

6. Feb 2005: Kate's birthday party at the Gallant Knight. Drinking, dancing and fabulous music. Kate sang "Kiss" for us, even though she didn't know the words. Ian's tab came up to $0...even though we all somehow got sufficiently wasted.

5.5 At some point my first senior year in college: Maggies Date Party with Gilmore. We had the bowling alley rented out and the theme was western. Screw that western theme, I wore a taffeta full length skirt with a Christmas tree on it. Gil and I bought a deck of cards at the gas station and played War instead of bowling...which proved to be much more conducive to our drinking of the beers. Somebody dropped us off at our homes. I think Gil ended the evening hiding under the hammock giggling waiting for his girlfriend to find him.

5. March 2004: My 23rd birthday...1 of 2 good birthday celebrations. We were the only people in the Hole in the Wall, so they let us play Green Day's "Dookie" over and over again. We pretended the table was a drum. Erik kicked a man out of the bathroom.

4.5. March 2004: My 21st birthday...the other good birthday celebration. We were in Austin for a dance convention, and by dance convention, I mean, we had to dance for 8 hours the day after my 21st birthday...starting at 8am. So, we went out. My best pals, Ben and Bez, took me out on the town. Great times were had by all...especially when Sara and I woke up in the morning, put on our leotards and realized we had email addresses written on our stomachs. Ballet that morning did not go as well as planned.

4. Sometime my 1st senior year of college: Northgathalon. 16 hours of Northgate. We had a drink at every establishment on Northgate and its surrounding bars. Then I punched a guy in the face.

3. August 2003: Drink Houston for the Houston Hottest Mom Contest. Got into a fight with the father of one of the women about who the hottest girl was. Gross.

2. August 2004: Drink Houston for Aggie Happy Hour. I danced the night away with a man who resembled a commodore and wore a lime green silk leisure suit.

1. March 2005: The Gingerman Weekend. Friday night was movies with the girls - I think we watched The Notebook? Saturday, Kate and I took our pets to The Gingerman where we met Ron Burgundy and Bull Rider. Saturday night, Kate made us dinner, (she was drunk), and then we watched Ladder 49. I cried. Seth and Mary were scared. Sunday we went to Astro World, saw butt acne and realized that if those girls can find love, so can we!! Sunday night, we watched some sports game with Lino and our sunburns.

0. February 18, 2006: St. Arnolds Brewery followed by 10 hours at the Sundown Saloon. Went to the brewery for one last hoorah before they start charging $5 for admission. Everyone had 4+ pints of beer - they just had the bowl of tokens lying around, so we decided to keep those tokens company in our pockets. Post St. Arnolds, the coaches decide we should go to the Sundown Saloon. We walk in. The curtains are paper clipped closed. There are Playboy magazines on the tables. There are about 20 people in the bar - all over the age of 70 - some are playing Texas Hold 'Em, some are just drinking beer out of cans at the bar. The Sundown Saloon doesn't have bottled beer. They don't have draft beer. They only have cheap beer and they only serve it out of cans. They provide you with a coozie though. That is important. By the end of the evening, we had Nancy and Judy (70+ year old women) playing King's Cup. They are screaming 'f**k me' and rubbing their breasts. Nancy grabbed her crotch. I almost peed my pants. Judy poured the beer from her can into a glass with ice. We signed the Playboys. We danced. We played every single song in the jukebox. It was incredible.

Both from our dear sweet Erik. Thanks buddy.

There is nothing like taking something a little too far. Gotta respect this guy. Gotta respect Bode Miller.

http://www.noobsports.com/2006/01/bode-miller-experiment-part-i.html
http://www.noobsports.com/2006/02/bode-miller-experiment-part-ii.html

Why this guy is still living with this girl, we may never know, but if he moves out, we might miss the funniness. So, let's hope they always stay together.

http://www.thingsmygirlfriendandihavearguedabout.com/

Creating Strategic Partnerships.

I was required by a work mandate to attend assertiveness training. Of all the people in the world who don't need assertiveness training, I am queen of their tribe. But whatever. They want to waste money to make me sit still for 2 days, whatever. I'd have preferred a cash donation instead, but they didn't ask me.

So I go to training. The leader of the class is a man named Yahya (pronounced Ya-ya). He is Iranian. He has a thick accent. And his name is Yahya. Thus my day begins...

Yahya is a nice guy - very amiable and I would probably enjoy him a lot if I understood a single word that came out of his mouth. But seeing as how I am deaf and already have trouble with accents, I heard nothing. The 3 inch long stand alone mustache he had going on just aggravated an exisiting problem...I couldn't even read his lips. The 'stache was so long you couldn't even tell if he was smiling or not. But his eyes smiled. I think. Or he was just leering.

In addition to his stand-alone 'stache, Yahya showed up to training in quite an ensemble. He must have purchased his shirt on his way to the seminar, because it still have the creases from how the shirt was folded in the store. One crease right across the stomach and 2 down each side of his chest. It also still had the cardboard in the collar, but I won't mention that. The side of his shirt won't stay tucked in because he has his pants sagged down so low you woulda thought he was a gangsta. I think the pants were super-saggy that day because he kept sticking his hands down the back of his pants. I guess he wanted to make sure his arse was still there. His fly was unzipped the entire morning and my view from the front row was compromising. When he returned from lunch, he must have fixed the problem because I didn't get anymore peeks at little Yahya. But he made sure the cardboard collar was still in place.

The seminar was long and boring. But the Star Trek jokes he kept making kept me alert. Oh wait, I don't watch Star Trek. I am a girl and I respect myself just a little bit. Not much. But a little.

These are the type of dorks I spend most of my days with...

Email from a co-worker:

"Thank you guys for staying open minded and taking some additional time to gather all the information so that we can make the best decision for the project and the company, this will save us a bunch of money (unfortunately it will not be on my car insurance!)

Best regards,
Marc."

Email from Erik yesterday morning:

"I don't know what finally made it click for me: was it when I walked by the mirror after breakfast and realized that I'd put gel in my hair but didn't comb it, or was it when I nearly left the apartment with my fly open? It could have been when I was tying my shoes and realized I'd rolled one sleeve up and then didn't bother with the other. I do know this: I took a roll call this morning, and one of my mind's comrades answered "here".

The only thing that got me out of bed my last dream: my car was stolen, and then my cell phone. I finally escaped being attacked by a gypsy with a slingshot, and made it into a mall where her and the midget couldn't get to me. At that point I was stranded and cut-off, and I didn't know anyone's phone numbers. I was so pissed about not being able to call any of you people to complain that I just woke up.

I guess the Aggie HH last night was just too much for this old man."

Wackos. All of yous.

Vince sent this hysterical link - might be the funniest thing I have read in a loooong time. I laughed so hard, I cried. http://www.shtick.org/Misc/ryans.htm Potty humor kills me.

And from the desk of Lino - also funny, but not as funny as link number 1: http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=8400730120188776481&q=gold+digger+parody