Sunday, January 25, 2015

They Put what Up Where? It's Back for 2014

I apologize.
Here we are going into the last week in January and I have yet to post the annual list of things that have become stuck in people's orifices. Or as I like to call it... They stuck what up where?

Yes indeed, the good people at Deadspin have combed the data banks of hospital emergency rooms, so that we may shudder, wince and say "what in the serious fuck were these people thinking?"

So in the immortal words of Flick, let's see what's "stuck, Stuck, STUCK!"

Starting with the Ear:

  • a walkie-talkie antenna...hello, hello, anybody home?
  • glow stick... I expect if you look in the other ear you would see the light, because it's obvious there's no brain matter inside of that head
  • a tampon...I would think the label gives directions for use, perhaps not.

Nose:

  • miniature hockey puck... at least they didn't try a full sized one
  • 10 sided dice... when a six sided die just isn't enough
  • a lithium tablet... clearly this person has other issues
  • "used a metal coat hanger to swat a bee off of his neck and coat hanger went up his nose"...this is where I started to get confused

Penis:

  • "plastic spoon and perhaps a pencil"...perhaps?
  • "stuck a nail in urethra and it migrated up into the bladder"... eew, and painful

 Vagina:

  • knitting needles...I can't even
  • bag of crystal meth... I think we can imagine the circumstances for this
  • bathtub stopper... rub-a-dub-dub
  • 10" steak knife... who the hell would do this?
  • billiard ball... was it the 8 ball?
  • "put a bag of money in the vagina to hide it from her husband"... guess that was someplace he didn't have access to

And last but not least, the Rectum:

  • air freshener...someone didn't read the label
  • tent stakes... hope it was just for a pup tent
  • phone cord...cell phone reception must have been spotty
  • ice pick...what's the attraction to sharp, pointy objects?
  • rolled up stack of plastic trash bags... no comment
  • keys... so you never lose them


People, y'all are messed up. Just stop. Oh and for you guys who "accidentally" fall on a toothbrush holder or can of spray paint or a turkey baster... ain't no one buying that shit.

As usual this was... interesting. And we get to do it again next year.

.

Sunday, January 4, 2015

A Few Weekend Observations


After spending a relaxing weekend driving over 1000 miles throughout seven states, here are a few things I have noticed.

People have no friggin' clue how to merge onto a highway. When cars on the highway are moving at 70-75 mph and you pull onto the highway doing 40, if I don't hit your ass, I'm gonna be cursing it out.

People in New Hampshire take the 30 mph speed limit a little too seriously. In Jersey, we tend to take it as a suggestion, it works better that way.

People, if I'm doing 75-80 mph, in a 65 mph zone, and the highway is basically empty except for me and you, I would appreciate if you would just pass me instead of riding up my ass.

I truly hate driving in the state of Massachusetts. Crossing over the state line after driving forever through Vermont without a rest area in sight, the words "Welcome Station Exit 26" were like an oasis in the desert. Unfortunately Exit 26 leaves you off in the most congested retail/fast food area you could ever imagine. And not a sign, arrow or inkling of where the Welcome Station might be.

Again in Mass., we followed an exit sign pointing to a Seafood restaurant. Where the exit led us was an industrial park, with no further signage as to where the seafood restaurant or any of the other places advertised might be.

When you are driving a Taurus, or a Mini Coop or any of a hundred small cars, can you just take the 3.5 minutes it takes to clean the snow off your damn roof. Do you not think when you are driving upwards of 80 mph that the snow you were too lazy to remove isn't gonna fly off into the cars behind you? I swear I avoided at least twenty sheets of ice and snow flying right toward me today.

It was encouraging to see windmills and solar panel fields throughout Vermont. Why can't this be done everywhere?

On a fun note...Where can you pull into the parking lot of a diner and hear "Wild Thing" blaring out the speakers? Tilton NH, that's where. The Tilt'n Diner is a total throwback to the 50s, 60s, 70s and it, and the food rocks.

Though not from the diner, dark chocolate mousse with raspberry sauce and toasted hazelnuts is a gift from the heavens.

I don't know how to relax.


Friday, November 7, 2014

Yeah, A Bug Crawled Up There

So a few things have been annoying me lately.

Actually more than a few but let's face it, we all have lives so I'll just vent about a few.

First up on my annoyance list are Linked-In whores. Ok, that's not their actual title but it's definitely their description. You receive an invitation to connect on Linked-In so you look at their profile. They don't seem to really have much in common with your line of work, or interests for that matter, but you accept their invitation anyway. Then over the course of the day, and the next and the next, if you happen to check your feed, you see that person has connected with 672 more people. Linked-In Whore. Seriously, the whole point of Linked-In was to connect people you might do business with, or might lead to someone you might do business with. It's not freakin' Twitter where it's all about your followers. Today may have been my fastest unlink ever. Whore.

Next up are names of bands. Now listen up young band people. I covered the CMJ Music Marathon a few weeks back and in researching which bands I wanted to see, I would use the CMJ app and try to coordinate shows with days and times I would be available. Now the easiest way I found to check out the bands was to just go to Youtube and type in their name. It's better than going to the bands websites and navigating pages to find some video. But a problem comes about when bands have names that are really names of other things. Like Fishing, or Northern Lights for example. Punch those babies into Youtube and you know what you get? Videos on How to Fish, and really breathtaking stuff of the Northern Lights. The bands... yeah, didn't find them. So I moved onto the next band. So here's my advice for naming a band: Something original and unusual. Just a thought.

Speaking of music. Publicists, if you're gonna inundate me daily about your clients, when I actually reply and ask you a question about the band... you might want to respond.

Finally, I received a letter from my health insurance company last week telling me to expect a phone call from someone who will be my "health advocate" or some crap like that. They will discuss my present health, how often I visit a doctor, if I got a flu shot, blah, blah, blah. So I get a call yesterday and by the look of the number on caller ID, I figured it was them. And it was... sort of. It was an automated call asking if I was who they were calling. Yes, yes I am. OK, PLEASE HOLD FOR THE NEXT AVAILABLE AIDE. Da Fuck? ALL OUR AIDES ARE CURRENTLY ASSISTING OTHER CUSTOMERS, PLEASE HOLD. Are you kidding me? A bot calls me and expects me to hold on while the real people are talking with other people. Here's a novel idea: HAVE A REAL PERSON ACTUALLY CALL ME.

Feeling better. I think that's enough for tonight.

.


Saturday, September 20, 2014

A Fishy Situation

Why is it whenever you have a limited amount of time to get something done, you end up surrounded by incompetent morons?

Case in point, Friday afternoon I had a small window of time to run out and get a few errands done. Food shopping at Shop-Rite was one of those errands. First thing on the list was to hit the fish department for some clams for Saturday night's dinner. Because the deli area/fish department can be crowded, I ran over there first to see how much time it would take.

Good news, only one woman in front of me and she's in the middle of her order. How long can it take right? Unlike cold cuts where someone might order four or five different items, fish purchases are usually only one or two items.

It seemed that the worker was taking a longer time to get the fish together than was necessary, but whatever, how long could it take right? Ok, she finishes with that item and the customer orders something else. A dozen craw-fish. A dozen crawfish. Now a dozen crawfish aren't really enough to do anything much with, but that's not my business. My business was watching the worker attempt to reach the crawfish which were in a plastic bowl toward the front of the refrigerated case.

Now if it was me, I would grab that plastic bowl out of the case so I would not need to reach into it. But no. The worker decided to reach in and... stretching as far as she could and grabbing them ONE BY ONE.

I stood there in total disbelief. I looked at the woman whose order was being filled and by the look on her face, this did not seem odd. That might have been even scarier than the idiot behind the counter. So after reaching into the case twelve separate times, the order was complete and it was my turn.

Two dozen Little Neck clams. I thought I might lose it completely if I saw her start to grab one clam at a time, but no, something even better. There were three types of clams for sale and she did not know the difference between them. So as I stood there mentally hearing the tick-tock of minutes passing, she decided her day was too tough, gave up, and called over another worker to complete the order.

It should have taken maybe seven minutes for the woman in front of me to finish her order, and mine to be filled as well. It took twenty.

Tick Tock.



Monday, September 8, 2014

No Kidding Around

Not these Kids
I don't have kids.

I may have mentioned that a hundred or more times, but in case any of you may have forgotten, I don't. Never wanted them, not a kid person, give me a dog any day of the week. Oh zip it all you parents looking down your noses, I believe we should all... in the words of Dirty Harry, "know our limitations."

I know mine, and it was never gonna be wiping someone else's ass for two years. And while that was indeed something that entered my mind many times when I was young enough to consider having kids, it was more of the knowledge of really not being cut out for it, and not able to cope with the 24/7, 365 day, twenty year commitment.

I did however become a step-monster of a fourteen-year old a shitload of years ago. I was lucky, he was great. Love and respect were never an issue, and I could not be more proud of the man he has become. That kiddo is now thirty-nine, and will soon become a father. This makes me a sort of step-grandmonster. Sort of.

Now the family is pretty small, but what we do have are some extras. As in the step kind. So the question has come up on what we all want to be known as when the baby, who won't be showing up until the spring, gets around to talking to us. oy.

Now those of you who know me can stop laughing right now. We all know some little crumb crusher calling me Granny ain't never gonna happen. I thought I remembered Joan Rivers saying when her grandson was born she wanted to be called Queen. Since the nickname I've embraced for many years has been Queen Bitch, it seemed a possible option.

Then it came to me; I could really dig being in a store with this barely walking toddler and he or she calls out "Hot Stuff." Hell yeah. The parents-to-be seemed to be the only ones who thought this was not an unthinkable option... and that's why I love them both. Oh and my beautiful niece thought it was cool too... but then she always thought I was a kick-ass aunt.

Most others thought it would be too hard for the baby to pronounce. I don't. So unless we can come up with something just as fabulous, Hot Stuff it is. This step-grandmonster is gonna rock.

Just saying.