Sunday, May 31, 2009

Saw-ry! See you next week!

Things have been hectic around here, so I promise to have my next blog post by Wednesday! So as Gilley would say, "Saw-ry!"

Thanks for your patience as my exciting life continues...

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

Roommates Not Wanted!

What I'm Listening To: Cavorting by the Corteeners

Ahhh, roommates. All of us at one time have had one...or two...or maybe more, and maybe all at the same time! My time on this earth has been domestically shared with some wonderful, and not so wonderful people, who've provided me with some very funny stories over the years. Since I was spared having to share a room with my sister through most of my childhood, we'll start at the beginning of my roommate odyssey...college.

I was first introduced to the joy that is having a roommate when I started college. My very first roomie was a lovely girl I will call Kim. (All names and places have been altered slightly to protect the innocent...namely, me!). Kim was supposedly the prettiest girl to ever hit this teensy school (have you guessed where yet??). And since I was Kim's roommate, I got to live vicariously through this celestial creature, the Midwest's answer to Cindy Crawford. "Hey, can I come to your room?" some hot guy would whisper drunkenly in my ear at the local watering hole as I sipped my vodka gimlet. OMG! A hot boy wants to come to my room? Oh yeah!! But of course, this request was often followed by the charming phrase, "I hear you live with Kim! She is so hot!!!" *rolls eyes* So regardless, I left after my sophomore year.

I transferred to a huge state university my junior year, and since I thought living in the dorms with the freshmen might be a good way to meet new people, I braved the roommate scene again. Bad move. Another cinder-block dorm room, another "hottie" roommate. This time around I was stuck with this blonde bimbo who wore clouds of Joop perfume and thought that she was all that and a bag of chips because once she danced with Screech from Saved by the Bell at a club in Chicago. When she forced us to install bunkbeds in our room, and then insisted I take the top one, that started us on the downward spiral. Each morning I was greeted by another fresh bruise on my skull when I whacked my noggin on the ceiling since, duh, I forgot I was on the top bunk. Again. Arrrrggggh! After she called me uncouth during one of our many bicker sessions about her horrible and loud music addiction and annoyingly loud telephone conversations while I was studying, that was about the end of the line. So I forced this president of the Toad the Wet Sprocket Fan Club to help me hang up my life-sized Red Hot Chili Peppers poster on the largest wall available -- you know the one, where they're nude except for the strategically-placed sweat socks? -- and then finally I felt we were pretty much even. Ha. Suck on that, chickie!

After I finally graduated from college, I scooted off across the country to California. Yes, truly the land of the nuts and flakes. And I think all the nuts wanted to room with me. Since rent was astronomical for even a one bedroom apartment, I had no choice but to start the roommate cycle again. My Californian roommates came and went in this order: The Narcissist, who totally got off on me watching her get dressed, undressed, and then dressed again; The Lesbian, who couldn't make it through an evening at home without burning at least 10 sticks of Nag Champa incense; The Ageless Klepto, who decided that my closet, my computer and basically everything in my room was for her personal use and who wouldn't tell me her age for love or money; and finally, The Stripper. Or as she liked to call herself, exotic dancer. ha!

Many of my favorite roomie stories involve The Stripper. When I was first interviewing for a new roommate after The Lesbian left, it seemed impossible to find someone decent to live with. They were all too pretty, or too dirty, or too weird or just not right. But I like The Stripper, mostly because she seemed cool even though she had these freaky 3-inch-long bright red fingernails. When I asked her what she did she told me she was a "night auditor at a bank", whatever that meant. But one late night after she moved in, when I caught her leaving the apartment wearing a huge blonde wig, Lucite shoes and a teensy dress that didn't even cover her tootie, she 'fessed up.

So we sat down at the kitchen table, and it all tumbled out. She was a dancer, she said. And seriously, lil ol' innocent me was like, "A dancer? Like what, ballet?" She giggled and said, no, exotic dancer. At a gentlemens' club downtown. After she told me how much she made a night, I was shocked! I stepped back and took a good hard look at The Stripper, who was at the most 5'2", had a flat chest and dishwater blonde hair. This woman was making THAT much money? Come on!! But when she showed me her stacks of singles, her dancer's wardrobe of shaggy Farrah Fawcett wigs, skimpy dresses and a shelf-load of strappy platform sandals that made my feet hurt just looking at them, well, what could I say? Hey, if you can pay the rent, I can deal.

After that, our time as roomies seemed to get silly. Like her perchant for adopting stray animals, including a white cat she named Fancy, after the cat's food. Very original. Or the loud spanking sounds that often emanated from her bedroom, followed by yelps of manly delight at all hours of the night. An interesting creature, to be sure. When she finally got engaged to one of the bouncers at her club, I even got an invitation to their destination wedding in, you guessed it, Vegas. Whoohooo. Sadly, I did not attend what I'm sure would have been quite the wild bash, spankings and all.

When I moved back home, I promised myself one thing: no more roommates. And I stuck to it until I got married. But I have to say that living with another person is a total learning experience. You learn how much you're willing to put up with. You learn how passive aggressive you can truly be. You learn about sharing, stealing and "hey, you weren't gonna eat that, were you?" So for all of you readers with roommate stories, I'd love to hear them! And to all of you still living the roommate dream, good luck with that. At least you'll have funny stories to tell at the bar! ha!

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Nick and Norah are infinitely annoying.

What I'm Listening To: Signal and Sign by Maximo Park

Last night Netflix brought me the stupidest movie ever -- Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist. Go ahead and read all about it on Wikipedia, I don't really care. I just would like to share my observations with you, my adoring public.

I don't even know why I put this movie into my Netflix queue. Michael Cera should be my kryptonite I hate his acting so much. Superbad, Juno, whatever other lame films he's been in -- sorry, but it doesn't take a lot of talent to wear a zip-up hoodie in the prerequisite cool color of the moment, shuffle around, strum a guitar occassionally and mumble your lines. So whatever, Michael Cera. You're a dork.

And the film's supposedly awesome soundtrack that everyone raves about, peppered with cute little cameos by indie rockers and adorable C-list actors? All I heard was a toneless drone of jangly guitars in the background as I watched a bunch of barely talented nobodies mime their way through a forgettable plot. Where was the "touching coming-of-age adventure" that I'd been promised? Where was "the millennium's answer to Sixteen Candles"? Or just show me all these fabulous stylistic echos of American Graffiti? WTF. I just saw a boring music video posing as a movie, with one distinct message: "We are kewler than you, ya fossil!" And since I'm old enough to be the mom of the entire cast, I guess I better agree. Sheesh.

So on that note, this Mee-Maw-Maw would like to point out some of the more poignant scenes in this lovely film masterpiece where I paused the DVD, turned to my Pee-Paw, and said, "WTF!"

Not getting carded at any bar -- Supposedly Nick and Norah are seniors in high school, which means they have probably what, two, three years til they hit legal drinking age? And yet, the movie shows them repeatedly waltzing right into ANY bar in NYC without being carded. WTF! I'm sorry, but when I was a senior in high school, I had panic attacks about even getting carded at Bailey's, that all-ages alternative club over in Brookfield, much less trying to get into a real bar. And forget about going to see some random hipster band at a city club -- we were forced to make do with our high school loser band U4EA (featuring future TV anchorman Joel Kleefish, no kidding!) play in our school cafeteria. But hey, I'll suspend my belief for this movie.

Drunk-ass friends -- In my many years here on Planet Chug-a-lug, I have had my share of being the drunk-ass friend as well as having to take care of my drunk-ass friends as our fun and frolic wore on into the wee hours. But one thing isn't two things, if I had a drunk-ass friend wearing a really short dress and super high heels, I would NEVER just nonchalantly let her wander all over town til the sun comes up or until I found her, whichever came first. And I'm just talking about Milwaukee! In NYC? WTF. I wouldn't even leave my worst enemy alone in the Big Apple at night. That's just cruel! I don't care how many times you've fallen down, puked or whatever while having a big night out, that's just not right to leave anyone alone anywhere when they are completely in the bag. Yeah, not good.

Underwire bras -- Kat Dennings, who plays Norah, looks to be sporting some honkin' boobins in this film, and she's not doing them any fashion favors by hiding her sexy self under a big bulky cardigan. I think Norah took a sick day when they handed out "The Top Heavy Girl's Guide to Undergarments" (which I ghost wrote, btw!) because later on we find out that Norah's over-the-shoulder boulder holder of choice is a sports bra. WTF. Then when Nick's gay band buddies try to give her a "Nick's great, go for it!" pep talk in their van, one of the buddies starts digging in a box of women's bras and other female accoutrements that he just happens to have handy! He pulls out a red underwire bra, insists Norah puts it on, and voila! perfect fit and nice cleavage to boot! WTF. What gay man drives around with a box of ladies underwear in his car, much less tosses perfect-fitting bras at strange girls? No gay man in Milwaukee, that's for sure, or I'd have me a whole new bra wardrobe! Whoohoo! Also, if you have big boobs, there's no way you don't own at least one underwire bra. I am not going to suspend belief on that fact of life, ladies!

Electric Lady Studios -- Turns out that Kat is the daughter of the owner of Electric Lady music recording studios, where such greats as Jimi Hendrix, Led Zeppelin and many other infamous bands recording their most enduring music. But Kat acts like this historic music studio, where legends where born, is no big deal, and frankly, she kinda gives the impression she thinks it's super boring and dated. WTF! I mean, half these narcissistic kids born in the 90s don't even remember Led Zeppelin. She'd probably get more excited if you told her Britney sang there once. Snort!

Used chewing gum -- One of the most disgusting running jokes in this movie is how they all pass around this nasty-ass chewing gum, from Norah's friend Caroline, to Norah, to Nick, etc. etc. This gum has been inside of more mouths than (fill in your own gutter thought here!). It's even been dropped into a puke-filled toilet, and then Caroline put it back in her mouth!! WTF. I almost puked myself just watching this running gag. Get it? Gag?! Ha! What, are these kids so poor that they can't afford to spit out old gum for a fresh piece? What is with over-chewed gum -- after 20 minutes it doesn't even taste good anymore!! I almost expected to see Willie Wonka pop out from behind a tree to scold these faux-Violet Beauregards about chomping gum like a cow! Where's an Oompa-Loompa when you need some comic relief, huh?

I guess after all that I can't really recommend this movie to anyone, unless you own a Yugo, hide out at some indie records store, are under the age of 20, or are in a NYC gay band with your video on YouTube. Kids these days! WTF! Well, gotta go eat my pretzels and watch Pretty in Pink for the 100th time. Or was that Legally Blonde? I keep forgetting!

Monday, May 4, 2009

Current events don't always involve celebrities -- but they should!

What I'm Listening To: Sun Hits the Sky by Supergrass

As most of my daily news comes from gossip sites and Star magazine, it's easy for me to ignore the world crashing down around me. And let's face it, though, a lot of weird stuff is transpiring right now. I'm talking about it all, from freaky flu epidemics, Milwaukee pension scandals, worldwide recession, failed financial institutions, mass unemployment, all the way to, hell, Jessica Simpson airbrushed to death on the cover of Vanity Fair magazine. (did you see that shit? Amazing!) And to top it all off, I know that you're just lying awake every night thinking to yourself (because who else would you think to, anyway, if not yourself?), "Hey! Why doesn't this blog ever give us a take on the hard topics? The topics everyone's talking about on the news? The ones that really hit home? What's your stand, man?" Snort!

Well, since everyone else is doing such a great job discussing the pro's and con's of America, I figured I'd give you a rest when you visited my blog. As you may have guessed if you've been following along at home, my blog's only pure and true mission is to make you laugh at my life's ignoble quirks and foibles. I'm not banging out 80 words a minute at the computer for a couple hours every week so I can bore you to tears with today's depressing headlines. But hey, if you really want to know what I think about current events, fine. Here goes nothing.

Swine Flu: Uh, we live in Milwaukee. I think there's like one confirmed flu case in Wisconsin, but the local news teams all act like we're all a bunch of friggin' flu zombies with these emergency headlines and school closings. Fact is, I don't have the swine flu. No one I know has it. And seriously, I've never seen one person who has swine flu -- not on TV, not on the street, not at work, not at the Pick n' Save, nowhere. I'm still riding the bus to my job every day and get this --I don't use hand sanitizer, so watch out!

Recession: I don't know what these people are talking about, recession. Doesn't that mean people aren't buying anything anymore, that a lot of people are unemployed, that businesses are closing, and basically people have less money in their pockets for the non-essentials like another tube of the same color lipstick that you have at home? (Side note: Over the last five years I find myself buying the same color lipstick over and over again, but they're all different brands. My weakness is this shade of sheer mauve that makes me look like I've just been kissed. Remind me to show you one of these things. Seriously, I have like 20 lipsticks, but they are all basically the same color. Sad.) In complete contradiction to this so-called recession, every time I drive by Mayfair Mall on a weekend, the parking lot is packed with cars. My one friend said maybe people are just hanging out at the mall and not spending any money. What. Ever! Like I don't know about you, but I have NEVER been able to "hang out" at the mall and NOT spend money. Good luck with that.

Twitter -- Twitter isn't actually a "current event", per se, but I just have to say..."tweeting" out what you're doing every second of the day to a bunch of your friends and "followers" sounds really tiresome. Who cares that I just blew my nose? Who cares that I'm waiting in line at the post office? Who cares that I have to do the laundry tonight? And if you DO care about me that much, hey, tell me about it! I heart texts! And by the way, if you want to get hooked on a really good music/social networking website, check out http://www.last.fm/. I heartily recommend it!

Facebook -- And continuing on that technology vein, did you know that the majority of Facebook members are baby boomers? Yes, that's probably why this memawmaw and her peepaw and now avid FB'rs. And while I may not be updating my status every twenty minutes like some people who will remain nameless (Joel!) I won't lie, I heart Facebook. I have found out more useless crap, seen more drunk photos and have been forced to complete more grammatically incorrect and misspelled quizzes than I ever have in my whole existence! Seriously, do you really care what Smith song I am? Or what 80s movie I loved the most? Or even what my top five favorite countries are? Well? Do you?? Admit it, yes you do!!

Well, that's my wrap-up on current events and technology for this day, Monday May 4th, 2009. Tune in next week for another self-indulgent blog about me, me and more me. Come on, you know you love me. XOXO!! (Yay! Tonight's a new episode of Gossip Girl! Enjoy!)