"I've Been to Vidal Sassoon!"

I decided to finally watch Rosemary's Baby on Saturday night, having never seen it. When the movie began I felt cheated because I thought this was the movie in which Mia Farrow had a pixie cut. Well, not to worry, she cut her hair off about halfway through the movie, at which point everyone -- especially her husband -- begins making fun of her hair.

What an appropriate movie to watch, as on Sunday, I cut off all my hair!

Here's Mia, post-Vidal Sassoon:



Here's me, post-Ruby Room:



Different cuts and I'm no Mia, but I'm liking the short hair. I was really tempted to proclaim, "I've been to Vidal Sassoon!" upon entering the apartment, but my sister's never seen the movie and she knew I had not, in fact, been there.

Fire Crotch!

I have to say, I'd never really looked at a box of Lotrimin jock itch cream before, because I had no reason to. While at Walgreen's last night, to buy a pitchfork, and some other drug store items, I noticed the image on the Lotrimin package, which is quite possibly, the most hilarious thing I'd ever seen. You be the judge.
In case you're not sure where your crotch is, they helpfully point to it from every direction, and circle it. Thanks, Lotrimin!

'Till Death Do They Part!

A couple nights ago, while hanging at home, I got a call from Chazz, my friend Bridget's new husband. He told me that he and his new bride had a wonderful time on their honeymoon, and exhanged a few pleasantires. He then asked me why I decided to ruin his car! I asked him what he was talking about. True, as a bridal party, we headed out to the parking lot, mid reception to decorate his hulking SUV in traditional fare. Streamers, condoms, and with some writing. Someone handed me a bottle with a spongey top, and I assumed it was the soap like compound used to write on cars all the time. I had used it myself, after highschool graduation to decorate my own car. So, I joined in on the fun! During our walk down the strip the day before, we'd overheard a drunk girl at a bachelorette party exclaim, "Marriage is the best thing that's ever happened!", so that's what I decided to write on the hood of the car. Little did I know, that the tube I was holding was actually WHITE SHOE POLISH. Another thing I did not know... SHOE POLISH TAKES PAINT OFF OF CARS!!!

When Chazz informed me of this, I couldn't help but laugh, and profusely appologize all at the same time. At least I was not the one who wrote "horny" on one of the doors, that was the groom's brother, I believe. Still, Chazz said that he couldn't be mad because he knew it all came out of a place of love. Thank God for his understanding. Also, Andy found out that it might be possible to buff the polish out w/ a machine, so hopefully that works! I have learned two things from this, 1) at my wedding someday, I will be sure to leave all of our cars at home, 2) NEVER drunkenly accept any automobile writing utensils, it can't end well. Now please enjoy some pictures of the car, and learn from our mistakes...

Who you callin' a loose slot?

So, my Vegas trip went WAY too fast, yet awesome. My friend Bridget made a BEAUTIFUL bride, and I know that she and her new hubs will be very happy together!

I ate at Spago for the first time, and it was phenonmenal. I lost $30 on penny slots, but DEFINITELY drank more than that in free drinks! Andy won and then promptly lost $114 but had a good time doing it. I met a great dane named Sarge, and got my hair done in a Mormon's laundry room. Overall it was a randomly excellent time. One of the highlights was at the Wynn, where I saw this:

Unfortch, it was not good to me money wise, but if I'm gonna lose money, then I will gladly lose it to a Unicorn. The "loosest slots in town " were not so good to me, but I had fun!

Oh, and BTW- the sign by the elevator in my hotel read, "Fire alarm sounds like: WHOOP!"

My bed is a very, very bad place

I love my bed. I’ve always loved every bed I’ve had because two of my favorite activities are sleeping and reading, and the bed is a wonderful place for both. However, this bed in particular is amazing. I’ve had it for years and I refused to get rid of it when it was pissed in (NOT me) and later when I moved from New York to Chicago. It’s kind of the best bed ever so I was willing to overlook a little urine and a hefty moving fee.

Lately, however, I’ve come to suspect that the bed is cursed. I’m not even really referring to sex, lest you think that in light of my last post. I mean, certainly, my bed is not the place of tender or thrilling lovefests at the moment, and is sometimes a little lonely, except when my dog is sleeping with me (which is about half the time). However, I would be okay if it was just me and my bed existing in peaceful, sleepy harmony. Not to say that the emptiness of the bed is not at all related to the curse, just that it’s the very least of it.

Last Wednesday night/Thursday morn, as I was getting ready for bed, my dog appeared to let me know we’d be roommates for the night. We have an open door policy on this, which goes as follows: “I will leave the door open as I get ready for bed. You, Molly, know the routine. When I turn off the lights in the apartment and go into my room, you are free to follow me, walk halfway across the room and stare at me with that look that says, ‘Bitch, I am sleepy as fuck. Put me on that bed posthaste.’”

So I put her on my bed and read a bit and turned out the light around 1:45. After about 5 minutes, she sat up and wouldn’t lie back down. When I eventually noticed that she was licking her lips a lot, I knew what was coming so I turned on the light and tried to grab her… right as she puked on my bed.

Ew. Puke on the bed. She proceeded to vomit twice more on the living room rug and I was up until about 3 doing laundry and cleaning up after her. With my quilt in the washer, I had to sleep under a blanket that smelled like her dirty butt because she drags it all over the living room and places her dirty butt on it. If you’re wondering about her, my sister took her to the vet and she is now a-ok.

So this had to be the worst thing to ever happen in my bed, right? Or at the very least, the worst thing involving me and a creature of some sort, right?

WRONG.

Last night, I came into my room and put my purse on the bed. I was about to leave the room to iron my dress when I saw a movement: THERE WAS A COCKROACH IN MY BED. My sheets were pulled back a bit and he was in my sheets. GROSS.

I was luckily able to catch him with a Kleenex and kill him within the Kleenex rather than squishing him into my bed. I refuse to wash bedding twice in 4 days.

I am pretty much not squeamish about bugs, but I checked that bed about 50 times before getting in. I really don’t care if there is a cockroach on the ground in the living room or bathroom. Honestly, it doesn’t bother me that much. But in my bed????? Oh, gross.

God I hope this is the end of the curse. If it is escalating, however, I foresee a Godfather moment in my near future.

Bright Light City Gonna Set My Soul On Fire!

In the spirit of trying to be a better blogger and following my wife's candid expression of emotion, I have decided to write a lil' something as well. I am gearing up for a whirlwind weekend trip to Vegas tomorrow. Although I do love me some Vegas, it's not QUITE a voluntary trek, as I am going to participate and attend yet ANOTHER wedding. That makes about 8 or 10 weddings in the past year and a half. I am a HUGE fan of the open bar/drunken dancing that a wedding provides, however being a girl in a long term relationship with an older guy, it can be a little stressful as well.

For example, yesterday I had a bit of a freak out because the boyf and I celebrated our four year anniversary, which I am psyched about, don't get me wrong. However, the excitement also comes with the pre-requisite questions. Shouldn't I be engaged already? Why am I starting to feel like the old adage, "Always the bridesmaid, never the bride"? Then, after wondering why I would have an incredibly anti-climactic day, I got home and Andy was making dinner for us, which luckily for me, is a regular occurrence, and not just confined to anniversaries. We had a nice dinner, and drank some wine, listened to a sweet mix made by my wife a few years back, called "Sexy #3". It was low-key, but really awesome. I am REALLY going to try not to compare my relationship to others, and REALLY try not to have a timeline forever running in my head. If all these damned celebrities have their kids when they are all old, why can't I? I'm not ready for kids anyway, and I'm not really in a financial situation to be paying for a wedding at the moment either.

So, even though I am on the other end of the spectrum, in a way, than my wife is, struggles still exist. I'm happy that Andy and I are in a place to discuss the future, and just take life as it comes. The wife and I discussed yesterday that we think the big problem with a lot of our ridiculous expectations comes from unrealistic romantic comedies, that make us hold these secret hopes for incredibly grand gestures, and are disappointed when they don't happen. I have to say though, that I plan to get drunk w/ my boyf, Alice, and her hubs this weekend in Vegas, and just have a blast. It should be fun, and hopefully I will have some excellent, blogable stories upon my return!

An explanation intended to elicit your sympathy/make you forget I'm a horrid blogger

To quote my wife, “Oy.”

We have been absent for awhile. It has actually, in part, been (for me) recovering from my birthday, but that’s a long and drawn-out story. I will begin it with an anecdote.

My sister returned from the gym recently and indicated she had a gross story. She said she was working out on a machine and realized that the guy using the machine next to her smelled like ass. So I said, “Well, perhaps he’d just been working out for a long time and was really sweaty?” She said that, no, that was impossible. He smelled like dirty butt in a way that can only be achieved by not washing one’s ass for at least a week or so. She said that she tried breathing through her mouth but then felt like she was eating his dirty ass smell and, all in all, it was a horrible experience. She ended the story by mentioning that he finished before her and walked over to his girlfriend…

To which I replied, “Wait a minute. GIRLFRIEND? THE MAN WITH THE STINKY DIRTY ASS HAS A GIRLFRIEND???”

Yup. She confirmed that, while she and I are both clean assed but single, the dirty smelly man who cannot bother to clean his butt has a girlfriend – who presumably embraces him, as it was obvious to my sister that she was in fact his girlfriend.

I found this horrifying and have been obsessed with it ever since. The reason for my obsession, and for the bender I embarked upon after my birthday, which subsequently caused me to catch a nasty cold I’m still kind of recovering from, is that I was unceremoniously… dumped? I’m not sure you can say “dumped” but whatever it was, it occurred a couple of days after my birthday.

I hinted on this blog that I was, like, kind of dating someone. I hinted and then removed that part of the post when I realized this blog comes up if you google my very unique name, which I kind of accidentally revealed to him (yes, I was dating someone who did not have my full name for a few months) and I got paranoid (sign #1 you are not meant for someone: it terrifies you that they might find out you actually think about them enough to blog about them). It was bumpy and at times infrequent, allegedly due to his ongoing personal and work dramas. But we got along well, I thought. There aren’t many people I really want to hang out with in a nearly empty bar for hours and hours, but he was one of them. And he liked Daria. Big selling point for me.

It must be understood that I am socially awkward, kind of a drunk, and really bad at male/female crap. So I went back and forth over inviting him out for my birthday celebration, because I’m a wuss, my friends would be there, I didn’t know if they’d like him and vice versa, my palms would be sweaty, blah blah blah. But I did, and he said he’d come… and never showed up. And never contacted me, ever again! Which resulted in me getting wasted as hell, that night and many subsequent nights. And too little sleep. And as a result, my body freaked out at me because I was treating it very badly.

And I’m posting this because I no longer give a fuck if he sees it (not that I’m flattering myself, believing that he’s checking up on me via the interwebs or anything). I’m kind of tired of pretending to be blasé about things like this, and I'm sick of wondering whether it was "serious" enough to get upset over, wondering constantly whether I'm overreacting. Fuck that. I was hurt, and angry, and I’m still kind of both, and who cares if the internets know?! And why would I want to date someone if I’m scared to reveal any kind of emotion in front of them? Oh yeah, I’m a masochist and kind of emotionally repressed. Well, I’m trying to work through that.

So anyway, there is my last month or so in a nutshell! But also I’ve had a good deal of fun. The drinking may have been a sad response to a stupid, pathetic situation but it was also good times, and not too much of it was done alone. Plus there’s pumpkin beer and red wine to be had, scary movies to watch, pumpkins to carve, and Halloween outings to plan. I fucking love fall, so I guess it’s the perfect time to get over the end of a summer fling.

And also – I’m going to be a lion for Halloween! It’s exciting. The outfit is kind of slutty (can you, as a woman, find one that isn’t?) but I’m adding leggings. Which makes it still kind of slutty, I think. Oh well!

Still – I cannot make something work with a misanthropic divorcee with a long arrest record (yes. yes.), but that smelly-assed motherfucker has a girlfriend? Oh. My. God.

YESTERDAY!

I forgot to mention, that yesterday was my wife's 28th birthday! She is a year older, and perhaps not wiser, but regardless... we still love her. So... if you didn't already do it... HAPPY BIRTHDAY AMANDA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

A Plague?

Ok, I know that I work in NYC, home to some of the most repulsive vermin on the planet. Also, considering the TV studios in my building, we have large open loading ramps to accommodate the large props that must leave and enter the building. So, when we had some mice running rampant, I was HORRIFIED, yet, I understood that it happens. Although I am totally opposed to the glue trap that now resides in my office, I deeply hope that it will forever remain empty. However, today I was notified that one of the maintenance guys CAUGHT A BAT ON THE THIRD FLOOR! WTF? Are you kidding me? This is getting insane! Like, what next? Locusts? Frogs? Whatever the other plagues were? I have decided though, that if he stays away from me, personally, we should keep that bat! Bats eat mice! DONE DEAL.

Now, you all can understand the glamour of working for a major TV network. Apparently, it means avoiding mice, and the possibility of becoming a vampire. Please wish me luck on both fronts, thanks.

~Boulos

This seems unneccessary...

Look what I found in the storage room of our condo building:

Really, asking for a demonstration might be the way to go.

Charting the not-so-gradual decline of my sanity

So I am going to a roller derby on Saturday. And, on a related note, I think I might be insane.

My nearest and dearest have abandoned me this week so I’ve been left with just my little pea brain and its thoughts and I’ve decided two things today: I am a dork, and I have a very bad wardrobe.

I was in Starbucks thinking of these things, and the roller derby, and I produced the following train of thought: “What does one wear to a roller derby? Fuck, I don’t have anything to wear to a roller derby. Maybe I’ll go to Target tomorrow and buy something.”

Does this strike anyone else as exceptionally weird? But more importantly, does Isaac Mizrahi have a badass roller derby line?

p.s. “Pilot of the Airwaves” just came on my mp3 player and it is the weirdest song ever, but still really appealing.

How to avoid feeling terribly ill

You could probably just NOT do the following:

Drink until midnight. Wake up at 6 a.m. when a gentleman caller leaves, realize you are starving, and eat a few pieces of leftover steak and a slice of cheese. Drink a bunch of water. Go back to bed.

Seriously, a slice of cheese? What the hell is wrong with me?

Reunited and It Feels So Good...

I’m just back from a crazy weekend in New Jersey/New York. Highlights of which included:

Me losing my wallet for roughly the 7,000th time, on Thursday night. I need to get a fanny pack or something, for real. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and all. BUT: in a new twist on this old story, I GOT IT BACK. Amazingness! After spending 20 minutes on the phone with 311 (my phone died in the middle of the first call) and determining that, no, I would probably never see my lovely red leather, quite expensive, containing the license I needed for the plane ride home wallet, I was awoken by Boulos at 3 a.m. She was there to double check and make sure I was alive, since my mother was on the line and seemed quite convinced I was dead in a gutter. A wonderful New York City policeman had called her. Someone had found my wallet! All they took was the $20 in it! They found it in the street! So my mom thought I was dead!

He had also called my phone, which of course did not wake me. So I called him back and he explained that he was not going to process it because I’d need i.d. to claim it, even though obviously my license was in the damn wallet. Also, his name was Officer Joranda. Boulos and I quickly began planning a wedding that would allow me to take the name Amanda Joranda. We had a wedding to attend in Jersey on Friday, so on Saturday we finally made it to the midtown south precinct, where I collected my wallet. Alas, though I am forever grateful to him for holding my wallet for me and being so very kind, there were no sparks. I’m currently at work on a new “marry into an awesome name” plan.

The wedding (Susie’ and Ken’s) was very, very fun. Also, very Susie and Ken. When introduced as husband and wife at the reception, they walked out to “This is Why I’m Hot.” And that is why we love them. They also offered a pretty intense and hilarious performance of “Paradise by the Dashboard Light.” The guests were rather amazing themselves. There was a lot of middle-aged dancing at about 7:30. Dinner had not yet been served, the sun was still out, and 50 people were running around in a conga line. Men were tying napkins to their heads by 8:30. We were pretty impressed. After the wedding, Boulos, Archana and I engaged in a ridiculous drunken photo session in the backseat while Andy drove us to their local bar, which we closed down. We were pretty inebriated. Good times.

Then, on Saturday, we went to Winnie’s, our favorite karaoke bar. Which leads me to our Blind Item: which lead star of a defunct HBO Jersey-set mob show walked into this tiny Chinatown dive bar with an entourage of about 8 middle-aged men? A friend of ours chatted him up for a long time, which was totally surreal and very intriguing. Alas, he left alone (well, with a bunch of dudes). We then found out that he had been in Chinatown for a reason: he wanted to bang an Asian chick. He’s original, that T… dude who shall not be named. Also, he made inappropriate comments about my friend’s sexual orientation and her ass. I can’t believe I was surprised he’s something of a perv, but I was. I am endlessly naïve, I suppose.

We did not arrive home until at least 6, as we were at Winnie’s til 4 and then headed over to the legendary Wo Hop for some Chinese food. Boulos’s brother kindly drove us home. Sunday, we basically woke up and left for the airport.

Oh and of course there were the constant USFBs. Good times!

WHAT THE FUCK????

Moist Towelette Museum????

Who would take the time? Why??? You can seriously find anything online, I guess.

This is more disturbing to me than most porn. Pretty much any porn involving two consenting adult humans is more relatable to me than this.

JIZUM UPDATE

Here are a few details my sister left our during the gchat:

• The boy in question looked about 12 and was wearing a batman costume. I will need to speak with my mother about the extent to which this was a full-on costume; all I can verify is that it definitely involved some kind of headgear resembling the ears of the batman mask.
• The girl was Asian (I do not know why this is relevant) and looked significantly older than the boy.

It just gets better and better, huh?

Gchats about my mom

Here is an interesting gchat between my sister and myself. It is in regards to a phone call my sister received from my mom at work. Note: my mother is inappropriate and works at Starbucks.


Sis: mom also told me about two young kids at her starbucks...
blah, blah, blah...
but basically, she went to use the bathroom and they were both in there
so when they came out she went in and then tells me
"Oh gosh and can you believe it!?! There was gizum on the floor!"
and I said, what?
and she goes, "gizum, you know like cum"

Amanda: WHAT????????
wtf
I thought she was saying gum
JIZ?

Sis: oh yeah

Amanda: is that what she was trying to say?

Sis: yeah, yeah but she calls it jizum

Amanda: omg you HAVE TO TELL THIS TO ME IN PERSON TONIGHT
bc I need you to imitate mom
hahahaha

Sis: is that an actual word?

Amanda: I think it is
but not one to be used

Sis: I am crying at my desk right now just thinking of it

Amanda: I mean, plus... she's MOM, could she just say semen please?
is that too much to ask?
If I have kids I am not going to dirty-talk them

Sis: ill, sick and she wiped it up
!

Amanda: especially when they are at work!
EWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
omg I’m laughing
and crying

Sis: she was like. "I knew it was jizum because I could tell by the consistency"
how sick!!

Amanda: oh I may have to send this entire convo to boulos
OMG MOM STOP IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Sis: please do

Amanda: jizum, haha

Sis: and then when I was like, "oh sick. oh my God" more so referring to mom's story... her response? "I know, can you believe it?! In my Starbucks? I mean someone was getting a hand job or a blow job. In my Starbucks. I don't know if she just spit it on the floor..."
I suppose she was referring to the lump of "jizum" she wiped up

Amanda: ew
haha
omg mom

Picture This...

Like most girls (women?) our age, the Wife and I have been nearly lifelong fans of the excellent, overly sexualized, and sometimes horrifying cult classic, The Golden Girls. We experienced a renewed appreciation for the show during college, and probably got WAY more of the jokes then, than the first time around. Of course, you all know that one of the girls was Sophia Petrillo, played by Estelle Getty. We just wanted to memorialize her, because she was one funny bitch.

Not only did she play mother to Bea Arthur, who is actually one year her junior, but she was able to steal a scene no matter WHAT other crazy shit was going on in that episode. Her ability to cut someone down, and still be sweet was what made her character so awesome. So, here's to you, Estelle, we will miss you and your crazy stories of Sicily! RIP, the Unicorns salute you!

Coming not-so-soon to a bookshelf near you...

Boulos and I have been having very deep Gchat discussions re: love lately. Thank god we have each other because our repetetive whining (mine moreso than hers currently) would drive anyone else away.

In any case, we decided that neither of us knows anything about life and love and we are thus qualified to write a self-help book addressing both.

Obviously, given our inability to write simple blog posts on a semi-regular basis, this will take awhile.

So in about 2019, be on the look out for The Unicorns' Approach to Life and Love: I Will Master You, Bitch

Infrequent, I know

I think I may need to stop listening to “The Pace is the Trick” by Interpol and “Gender Bombs” and “Retour a Vega” by the Stills, at least when I have my period. Goddamn I love these songs, but they really get me down.

It’s been a long time but I would like to try to keep up this blog…life is so weird, randomly super busy for a few days and then I’m bored and staring at my dog, thinking about how I should really try to read more. Also: stealing wireless internet is NOT the most reliable method of connecting oneself with the outside world.


p.s. Boulos and I started a new blog, called “Caption Obvious.” Link in blogroll, to the right. It’s possible that that one will ALSO never get updated; we’ll see.

WELCOME TO THE WORLD, BABY ZOE!!!

Last night, our friend Lisa welcomed her second baby girl! Lil' Ava Grace (daughter #1) is about 2 and 1/2, and now has a little sister named Zoe Taylor. She's adorable! Both Mom and baby are doing well, we wish them our most heartfelt congratulations! We can't wait to meet her!!!!

EXTREME!!!!!!!!

Ok, I watch a local newscast every morning, here in the NY Tri-State area which features a computer segment with "Kurt, the Cyber Guy." Usually this is a collection of lame tech-y news and viral videos, blah blah. This morning, hoever, good ole' Kurt OUTDID himself. This discovery is quite possibly the most excellent thing I've ever seen, and features possibly the only EXXTREME "Sport" I may EVER be able to actually participate in... EXTREME IRONING.

Whoever thought of combining "Extreme" behavior and one of the worst chores in life, ironing, should seriously be awareded some sort of award. It's amazing.

~Boulos

What can I say, she dresses like a tramp.

I just took my dog out for her last pee of the night (I know it's insanely late, which is why I specify "pee" -- we walk out of the front gate, she whizzes, it's not even a walk).

I knew she had to go since she woke up and gave me the sad "why haven't you taken me out lately?" look. But she laid on the couch staring at me while I asked her several times if she'd like to go out. To get things moving, I had to walk over to her, clip on her leash, and then pick her up and put her down on the ground.

So I said to her, "I know you want it."

Honest to God, I caught myself right before I said, "You're giving me that look." I didn't want my dog to think I was about to rape her.

Gchats about tacos

Amanda: omg I had so many beers last night
then I had 2 tacos

Boulos: hahaha
nice
OMG, that sounds SO GOOD

Amanda: tacos?
man the pork one was delish
god, can I just have a job that involves beer and tacos?

Boulos: YES
If I can too!

Amanda: if you could find THAT job
you should take it
haha
taco stand!
like a nacho stand

Boulos: Hahah< YES

Amanda: god, my love of tacos knows no bounds

Boulos: hahaha

OVER IT

I am so, so sick of seeing this commercial. Yes, I watch too much television. No, I don't plan to stop anytime soon. So it's probably going to drive me crazy.

I hate his self-conciousness!! You just got married dude, OWN it! Or go back to kindergarten. I hate you.

And seriously, who has a futon anymore? I'm young(ish), single and broke and I would never.

They need to shelve this one and bring me a full length commercial of the hot new father in the longer version of this one that features 4 different people. That dad is hot. And omg, do I watch too much television.

Hussy

Nothing like getting to work and realizing there's a giant hole in your tights.

It's on my lower thigh, the outer side, and would not be a problem if I was not wearing the shortest work-appropriate skirt I own.

I can't wait to buy drugstore tights at lunchtime! Although buying tights at the drugstore is how I got into this mess, as I'm pretty sure the Leggs tights I'm wearing just gave up after like 5 washings. I honestly think this hole formed all on its own.

I wish I had a pervy boss who would promote me for looking trashy.

p.s. Apparantly, it is L'eggs. Um, sweetie, you are not fooling anybody. You are not French, you are drugstore brand, you can't buy class with even a well-placed apostrophe.

Erotic Vagina

Ok, so starting our senior year in college, the wife and I, and all of our friends frequented the Barrow St. Ale House every Thursday. We went to the bar on other days as well, and it was definitely our defacto place to go out. We started going b/c of the $15 all you can drink Happy Hour on Thursdays, and stayed for our love of the bartenders and bouncers alike. Soon before the wife moved away, we had significantly cut down on our trips to Barrow. The staff had changed so much that we barely knew the peeps that worked there anymore, and the other regulars weren't there nearly as much, and the entire place had lost it's original dive-y charm.

Now, it's like any other sports bar in the city, completely generic and lame with tons of flatscreens and mediocre food. They even gave up the unique jukebox, that had featured mixes made by bartenders and bouncers alike, for one of those terrible touchscreen ones! The stools and crappy formica-topped tables of yore have been replaced with these chain restaurant style leather booths. The creepy deer heads are no longer adorning the walls, etc, basically it's totally lame. The SADDEST thing is the bathroom rennovation. The girl's room MIRACULOUSLY still houses two stalls, but the similarity to the shit pit of yore ends there. The pearls of wisdom like, "I went to the carnival, a candy apple caught my eye. I learned to love and I learned to fly.", and my personal fave, "I have diarhea, please call an ambulance, thanks." have been PAINTED OVER! The toilet paper is no longer suspended from an old pool cue hovering above the midget-sized commodes! Alas, it's not the same. The only crowning glory of the "new" Barrow St, is this feature on their website. The "bathroom wall" has apparently been tagged with some porn spam featuring some of the most insanely ridiculous lines I've ever seen in my life. The wife just found it, and it inspired me to write this, and it's where the beautiful title of this entry came from. So, although I don't recommend heading over to Barrow for a pint, I do recommend hitting up their site for some awe-inspiring phrases that will definitely make you giggle!
~Boulos:)

Can't you smell that smell?

As most of you must know by now, I don't really have a sense of smell. Aside from the occasional whiff of garlic WHILE I AM ACTUALLY CHOPPING IT, and a couple of other times in college, while under certain influences, I do not smell a thing. Today, a friend of mine at work sent me this article, which I could've written myself! I seriously am considering typing out a copy of it, and carrying it around with me, when people ask me these EXACT questions every time they hear of my condition. I would like to point out though, that my wife told me if I'd written it, it would've been much funnier, which is undoubtedly true... but oh well!



Seriously though folks, I am happy to hear that I am not alone... I share an affliction with this guy.

Cheerio, Simon! And to all those who suffer from hyposmia!

P.S. Please refrain from buying me scented candles, I really don't appreciate them, and they end up just being a gift for my boyfriend, which is really just not fair! LOL!

Happy Valentines Day

And I got you a gift, too:

I LOVE THIS PICTURE. I voted for Hillary and I love her, but what the fuck??

And now I have to go, because Jay Leno just snuck onto my television again and I must change the channel before he trots out Larry the Cable Guy. What a fucking pair. They're like the anti-Hillary and mariachi boy.

Try not to get knocked up tonight! I won't have to try too hard.

Dear Lord, make it stop

I have always known that the Tonight Show is terrible. Jay Leno is just about the least funny man alive. However, when I am near the television at 10:30 I inevitably wind up half-watching it because I'm too lazy to turn the channel after the news (Channel 5 news in Chicago is the only acceptable local news, for reals) and I'm usually cleaning the kitchen or something.

The past few nights I've been surfing the internets, which are lovely to have around at home finally, and Jay Leno has intruded into my living room every night. And I just realized the Tonight Show has become worse than I could ever imagine. LARRY THE CABLE GUY HAS BEEN ON EVERY NIGHT THIS WEEK.

And he was just wearing an unexplained, awful purple speedo thingy. With a camo vest, of course.


p.s. I promise to blog a bit more, maybe.