MySpace. MyHeroTom.

So a friend of mine, okay, not MY friend, but a cousin of a friends mother-in-law's sister's daughter just signed up for myspace...this is an email from her (this is a real email, all we can hope is that she is kidding...):

"Oh, by the way, I signed up for the my space. Of course I didn't take the time yet to do the whole profile, but it did connect me with a really hot 30 year old single guy from California named Tom. At first I thought you did it as a joke, but it seems ligit! He says he is there for me if I have any questions. Hmmmm...let me think?"

I just want to give her a hug and a little pat on the head.

The OC.

I really was getting depressed that nothing funny has happened to me lately, that is, until I got to work this morning and this little nugget awaited me in my inbox:

-----Original Message-----
From: Jeff [mailto:jeffrey@hotmail.com]
Sent: Monday, May 22, 2006 6:52 PM
To: Christy (CM)
Subject: Re: Game Night

Oh, it's a known fact that I love The OC. I'm over the shame. But it is a little gee that Cohen is my favorite character. But, to put things in perspective, I'd make out w/ the characters in this order: Summer, the girls that Ryan has dated, Marissa, Anna, Marissa's sister, the moms, any other girls on the show, and THEN Cohen.

It's been awhile, but my life hasn't been that funny. Until this weekend.

I went to Dallas on Saturday for a wedding and a bridal shower - both of which were excellently fun.

From Erik on Saturday before the wedding:

From: Erik
Reply-To: Wehner
To: Wehner
Subject: [Wehner] Marital Bliss
Date: Sat, 20 May 2006 10:06:37

In honor of Zach's impending marriage later today, I offer this: the new Official Biology Professor of Camp Wehner.

http://www.albany.edu/faculty/sywang/

Quoth the wise man, "that's what SHE said!"

****************

Highlights of the weekend include, but are not limited to:

1. A lifesize cardboard cut-out of Zach in his scuba gear - Scuba Zach crowd surfed and apparently crashed some other parties in the hotel.
2. Trying on some scary Roller Girl costumes with Amanda. You never know when you might need one of those.
3. Playing the guitar (well, I was listening) and having a typical Wehner sing-a-long. Baby got back.
4. Fighting over a piece of cake with the fam.

It was a good weekend totalling 9 hours of sleep in 3 nights. I could use a nap.

Stellar.

Every Day SHOULD Be Saturday...

...especially if Saturday is like this...

From: Erik
To: Christy
Subject: white people
Date: Thu, 4 May 2006 21:17:48 -0500

This is a link to a college football blog I read. Now, you may be wondering why I am sending a sports link to my friend Christy, but I promise you this: skip the words and go to the video, and you will enjoy this. I will say no more - only remember this: you get to laugh AND tell people that you read a sports blog. In one day.

http://www.everydayshouldbesaturday.com/?p=2012

Lost and Found.

I just found this in my email while I was cleaning it out. I was amused. Not that it takes much to amuse me.


-----Original Message-----
From: Mark (M)
Sent: Thursday, June 02, 2005 10:58 AM
To: Christy (CM)
Subject: Ode to Miss Benny


poor poor me
I am so low
my little Miss Benny
went to Mexico

I hope she has fun
I hope she gets tan
I hope she doesn't fall in love
with a little Mexican man

When she returns
I will be happy
Unless she doesn't bring me something
then that would be crappy

I'd like a shot glass, a sea shell
an ashtray from the cantina
a towel from the hotel
and a big breasted Latina

When people go to Mexico
they get pretty randy
drink lots of tequila
and eat lots of candy

If she gets really sunburned
oh, that will be the pits
and if she drinks lots water
she'll get a case of the ..... hiccups

Hurry back Miss Benny
we'll try to make it without you
but until you return
all my days will be blue...

Engineering Dorks.

Let me preface this with: The highlight of my trip with some co-workers this week when we got into a lengthy discussion about the encyclopdia brittanica. To quote John, " One of the most interesting encounters I have ever had with that 1962 encyclopedia brittanica..." Apparently, when John is out of books, he just plucks the DE-DU encyclopedia from the shelf and settles in for a night of enlightenment.


-----Original Message-----
From: Elrie (E)
Sent: Tuesday, May 02, 2006 1:55 PM
To: Christy (CM)
Subject: FW: Understanding Engineers

I can't help being weird. It's in my DNA.


SOCIAL SKILLS
Engineers have different objectives when it comes to social interaction.

"Normal" people expect to accomplish several unrealistic things from social interaction:
*Stimulating and thought-provoking conversation
*Important social contacts
*A feeling of connectedness with other humans
*Sex

In contrast to "normal" people, engineers have rational objectives for social interactions:
*Get it over with as soon as possible.
*Avoid getting invited to something unpleasant.
*Demonstrate mental superiority and mastery of all subjects.

FASCINATION WITH GADGETS
To the engineer, all matter in the universe can be placed into one of two categories:
(1)things that need to be fixed,and
(2) things that will need to be fixed after you've had a few minutes to play with them.

Engineers like to solve problems. If there are no problems handily available, they will create their own problems. Normal people don't understand this concept; they believe that if it ain't broke, don't fix it. Engineers believe that if it ain't broke, it doesn't have enough features yet. No engineer looks at a television remote control without wondering what it would take to turn it into a stun gun. No engineer can take a shower without wondering if some sort of Teflon coating would make showering unnecessary. To the engineer, the world is a toy box full of sub-optimized and feature-poor toys.

FASHION AND APPEARANCE
Clothes are the lowest priority for an engineer, assuming the basic thresholds for temperature and decency have been satisfied. If no appendages are freezing or sticking together, and if no genitalia or mammary glands are swinging around in plain view, then the objective of clothing has been met. Anything else is a waste.

LOVE OF "STAR TREK"
Engineers love all of the "Star Trek" television shows and movies. It's a small wonder, since the engineers on the starship Enterprise are portrayed as heroes, occasionally even having sex with aliens. This is much more glamorous than the real life of an engineer, which consists of hiding from the universe and having sex without the participation of other life forms.

DATING AND SOCIAL LIFE
Dating is never easy for engineers. A normal person will employ various indirect and duplicitous methods to create a false impression of attractiveness. Engineers are incapable of placing appearance above function. Fortunately, engineers have an ace in the hole. They are widely recognized as superior marriage material: intelligent, dependable, employed, honest, and handy around the house. While it's true that many normal people would prefer not to date an engineer, most normal people harbor an intense desire to mate with them, thus producing engineer-like children who will have high-paying jobs long before losing their virginity.

Male engineers reach their peak of sexual attractiveness later than normal men, becoming irresistible erotic dynamos in their mid thirties to late forties.

Female engineers become irresistible at the age of consent and remain that way until about thirty minutes after their clinical death. Longer if it's a warm day.

HONESTY
Engineers are always honest in matters of technology and human relationships. That's why it's a good idea to keep engineers away from customers, romantic interests, and other people who can't handle the truth.

Engineers sometimes bend the truth to avoid work. They say things that sound like lies but technically are not because nobody could be expected to believe them. The complete list of engineer lies is listed below.
"I won't change anything without asking you first."
"I'll return your hard-to-find cable tomorrow."
"I have to have new equipment to do my job."
"I'm not jealous of your new computer."

POWERS OF CONCENTRATION
If there is one trait that best defines an engineer it is the ability to concentrate on one subject to the complete exclusion of everything else in the environment. This sometimes causes engineers to be pronounced dead prematurely. Some funeral homes in high-tech areas have started checking resumes before processing the bodies. Anybody with a degree in electrical engineering or experience in computer programming is propped up in the lounge for a few days just to see if he or she snaps out of it.

RISK
Engineers hate risk. They try to eliminate it whenever they can. This is understandable, given that when an engineer makes one little mistake, the media will treat it like it's a big deal or something.
EXAMPLES OF BAD PRESS FOR ENGINEERS
* Hindenberg.
* Space Shuttle Challenger.
* SPANet(tm)
* Hubble space telescope.
* Apollo 3.
* Titanic.
* Ford Pinto.
* Corvair.

The risk/reward calculation for engineers looks something like this:
RISK: Public humiliation and the death of thousands of innocent people.
REWARD: A certificate of appreciation in a handsome plastic frame.

Vacation.

This post will just contain all of the offensive and entertaining material I collected while out of town for 1.5 days. I would have thought there would be more, but this is high quality stuff - and let's pick quality over quantity. I discarded all emails referencing smiley faces, friendship letters and puppies.

**********************

I was unable to load the Midget Thai Boxing video, so if you are interested in seeing that, just let me know. I'll see what I can do.

**********************

Five reasons NOT to be a penis:
1. You're bald your whole life.
2. You have a hole in your head.
3. Your neighbors are nuts.
4. The guy behind you is an asshole.
5. Every time you get excited, you throw up and then faint.

******************
From Erik, who knows who brighten my day:

http://www.improveverywhere.com/missions.php

Now, Bill, I know you won't think it's funny, but just know that I may have peed a little.

I have only read the Best Buy one, because they are very long and, frankly, I probably need to do some work today. But I will assume that the others are equally as entertaining. If not, I give you the right to flick me between the eyes.

******************
From Wayne, the British are a strange sort of folk...

The story of mayonnaise (well at least what we know): Most people don't know that back in 1912, Hellmann's mayonnaise was manufactured in England. In fact, theTitanic was carrying 12,000 jars of the condiments cheduled for delivery in Vera Cruz, Mexico, which was to be the next port of call for the great ship after its stop in New York. This would have been the largest single shipment of mayonnaise ever delivered toMexico. But as we know, the great ship did not make it to New York. The ship hit an iceberg and sank, and the cargo was forever lost. The people of Mexico, who were crazy about mayonnaise, and were eagerly awaiting its delivery, were disconsolate at the loss. Their anguish was so great, that they declared a National Day of Mourning, which they still observe to this day. The National Day of Mourning occurs each year on May 5th and is known, of course, as Sinko de Mayo.

Happy Day everyone.

*********************

I really wish I could post the Midget Thai Boxing video. It's that good.

Crotches.

This story is two-fold, but all occuring on the same day. In neither of these stories do I get to have the sex. That's just wrong.

First-Fold: The story develops like this...In my laundry room/pantry/bathroom/garage entryway, I noticed a strange smell a week or so ago. As time passed the smell became stronger and I became alarmed. The room smelled like crotch. Man crotch, girl crotch, I don't care. It smelled bad. I couldn't figure out where the smell was coming from. I cleaned the entire room out. I did the laundry. I checked the dates on all the food in the pantry. I cleaned the bathroom. I lit candles. Crotch smell...still very prominent.

I am very bothered by this because you all know how I have a fear of being the smelly kid. Well, I try to forget about it, and get dressed to meet everyone for Coy's birthday party. I have on fabulous shoes and a clutch purse (that's it - ha. Just kidding mom) We dance, my purse clutched under my arm as a good little clutch purse should be, when Ed asks, 'How do you keep your purse from smelling like armpit?"

At this point, a little light bulb goes off. First, I smell my purse to see if it does in fact smell like my pit. It does not. It smells quite nice, as I will assume my armpits did also. I am a clean person. I bathe regularly. I promise. But the lightbulb reminds me of my dogs leash. When I take Don out of a run, I put his leash around my shoulder, so a large portion of the leash is under my arm (in the pit area). I tend to sweat when I run, and possibly get quite smelly. It IS Houston and I am running for at least an hour. So shuddup. Anyway.

When I return home, I grab the leash and take a big 'ol whif to see if that is the source of the crotchy smell. Yes. Yes it is. My dogs leash smells horrible. I threw it away. Don can't go on any more walks until he goes out and buys a new leash. Preferably one that has odor protectant. Possibly an anti-perspirant. Then he hid under the house. Dum mutt.

Second - Fold: So, we are at Coy's birthday party. In strolls a bleach blond babe in a white toob top, turquiose mini skirt and the tackiest white shoes you have ever seen. And by mini-skirt, I mean the skirts that most girls use a swimsuit cover ups on the beach. And by toob top, I mean it was mostly just covering the girls. And by tacky shoes, I mean that even the straight guys in the bar were commenting on how ugly they were.

The outfit is disturbing enough, but the story gets better. Trust me. HO-me Girl is sitting on the edge of the stage, letting her boyfriend/husband/whatever take pictures of her crotch. He would just tap her on the knee, and she would just spread those legs like she's done a hundred times. He would stick the camera up her very short skirt, so he didn't have far to travel, snap the pic and then of course, he would show the footage to anyone who wanted to see.

RRRRR you kidding me? I tried to get people to get a pic with my camera phone so I could post it on here, but then I remembered my mom reads this and that's just weird. So, just imagine. I'll assume it looks very much like a normal crotch in public.

Then Seth passed out Skittles and told people it was ecstasy - those little wannabe druggies just swallowed them things whole. That's just a waste of good Skittles.

The Ladder Theory. I love it!!

http://www.laddertheory.com/

Take the cash and run...

After getting advice on bike helmets I sent this photo to Roy at 8:03PM:

What follows is the text conversation that ensued.

Roy 8:08: Dear God. Respect yourself.
Christy 8:15: If you want my body and you think I’m sexy…
Roy 8:13: That helmet doubles as a chastity belt if worn away from your bike.
Christy 8:19: You’re funny today.
Roy 8:20: That I am. U R 2 in that lid
Christy 9:37: It’s amazing that I even have friends. I pay them well.
Roy 9:39: Where’s my money? Don’t say it…I’m not a friend and therefore I get no cash.
Christy 9:41: I let you touch my boobies once. You can’t have it all.
Roy 9:42: Point made.
Christy 9:43: Ha! I win!
Roy 9:46: I wasn’t gonna say this, but since you’re gloating…Had I known there was a cash option, I might have passed on the boobies. O snap.
Chirsty 9:48: I hate you more everyday.
Roy 9:50: Good to know. Does that mean I won, or did we tie?

This is handy...

2 Guys CAN Have a Good Time.

-----Original Message-----
From: Kyle [mailto:kyle@yahoo.com]
Sent: Wednesday, April 12, 2006 3:54 PM
To: Dan; Froe Froe; Christy

Subject: Me and Froe's MTV debut

Froe Froe and I made a music video, Dan filmed it. We had a good time. The humor is infinitely multiplied with sound.

http://www.thelonelyisland.com/just2guyz.html

***********

Okay, this is not really Froehlich and Kyle, but if it were, I think I would be madly in love with both of them. My favorite parts are the poses in the pool. Hey, Guy Number 1!!

Humiliate good times. Come on!

(sung to the tune of 'Celebration')

So, on Sunday, my plan was to sit outside in the privacy of my backyard in my swim suit, get a tan and read my book. As most girls know, when tanning alone in your backyard, you wear the smallest, most out of style suit that shows the most skin so you can get maximum tanning coverage. So, I am wearing a very scary, very small, bikini. I step out of my house, book in one hand, water bottle in the other, and shut the door.

Ooops. I locked myself out. Are you freaking kidding me? Luckily, my landlord lives 3 houses down. Unluckily, there are 5 houses being built across the street and my neighborhood is littered with construction workers. Having no choice, I trot my scantily clad and very scary self down to the landlords house. Well, mister landlord (Karl) has his house fenced in, like mine, but unlike mine, you can't open a gate and get to the front door. So I am standing in the middle of the road, yelling, "Karl! Karl! Maria! Karl Maria!! Karl Karl Karl!! After about 5 minutes of my screaming and construction workers hollering, Karl came outside.

I essplained the situation. I told him I was humiliated and could he please give me his spare key. He said, yea sure. Then he just wanted to sit around and chit chat. Oh yea, sure Karl, I would love to sit around and have some girl talk with you while I stand in the road in my barely-there bikini. I can think of nothing more exciting.

He finally gets the key. I trot back to my house and unlock the doors. End of story.

How does this crap happen to me? I had to buy a wrangler just I couldn't lock myself out of my car. How pathetic. It was definately the most humiliating thing that has happened so far this week. 4.5 more days to go. Oh gosh.

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.