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Monthly Archives: November 2012

Kill You With A Smile

hitman

Yes, I am just happy to see you. [You can thank Le Clown for Photoshopping this].

So, I have learned something. I would be a horrible riddle book writer. Apparently, not only was my post yesterday thrown together too late, but my clues were too easy, and that asshole Aneroidocean ruined the what I thought would be fun little guessing game for everyone (by the way, can you please stop being an asshole and write an about me page already?).

To everyone else, please accept my new look and bulging crotch as an apology. Sorry Rich. Am I ruining your session?

None of this matters of course, because I am still basking in the glow of my own little session. The past two nights have been an ongoing threesome between me, my TV, and my PS3. All of my buttons were pushed (literally) and all parties reached their checkpoints, if you know what I mean. All I know is that I am glad it is finally the weekend, because these late nights aren’t doing anything for my complexion (as you can see above).

On another less weird note, Jillian Levi is at it again. She won a bunch of those awards and mentioned me as a nominee for this thing:

Blog of the Year Award banne

When I should really be winning creepiest post title of the year.

Like with the last award someone tossed down to me, I won’t participate in paying this forward, because… it takes too much time. I am just being honest here. Plus, I wouldn’t want people thinking I am actually a decent blogger who helps encourage others. I am a hitman now god dammit. Read the rest of this entry

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Unconventional Love Affair # 47

Are you ready for a guessing game? I thought so. I could feel it. And plus, I heard Le Clown was planning some sort of  game tomorrow (for his own sick entertainment no doubt), so I figured I’d help you get warmed up.

This magnifying glass is doing nothing for my lack of eyeballs. Hmph.

I want you to guess what inanimate object I am balls deep in love with right now. Le Clown, you can’t play. You know why. Whoever guesses right FIRST will win a creative shout out in my Movember contest winners announcement video. God I am generous. Here are the clues:

1. There is a hint in this blog post’s title.

2. My thumbs are sore.

3. I am not a man.
     But with this I can pretend.
     Haiku styled hint.

4. When I am around it I don’t blink.

5. Like my Facebook page. There is possibly a huge hint there. If you can find it.

Good luck my smart little puppets! Leave your guesses in the comments!

* Tomorrow is the last day of Movember! Just one last reminder. Don’t forget to check the list if you entered my contest!*

becca cord signature

 

25toFly Movember Drawing Contestant List

I know I said I would post this Friday, but I am impatient and a pathalogical bliar (blog liar). So, here I have compiled the list of bloggers who qualify for my banner drawing (so far but with only two days left). The number beside each name represents how many times your name is entered in the drawing depending on whether or not you donated AND liked the Bloggers for Movember page.

the winners are

Not being announced in this post. HA PSYCH!

Please double-check me, I may appear to posses advanced intelligence but lists and counting dumb me down. Remember, a donation is required to qualify for the drawing. If I overlooked you, please tell me in the comments or I am going to feel worse than the Shamwow guy does about wet-vacs.

That’s 25 bloggers. Did I just count good?! Good luck to everyone. If you donate between today and Friday, or if I goofed and left you off, I will gladly add your name to the list.

And finally, to Tim, I didn’t include you in the list since you are illustrating the prize, but I did want to recognize the fact that you contributed to the moon on this thing. I also wanted to remind you to make sure you put your signature somewhere on the final banner (I am sure that was unnecessary for me to tell you) and to write a special thank you directed towards you. You did a LOT for the Movember movement. No, that’s an understatement. If it weren’t for you, my contest would have sucked a prune. Your Facebook timeline covers, my banner, your Movember posts, and your donations, likes and comments really made a wonderful difference in this whole experience.  THANK YOU from the bottom of my long johns (I promise that isn’t how it sounds). Now, will you go out with me? Be sure to wear that tie and we can dance to some RAC remix. We will end the night splashing around drunk in a fountain somewhere screaming “‘Merica!!!!!!!!!!!!!” at everyone. How’s that sound?

Look out for the final VIDEO announcement revealing the winners next week!

becca cord signature

How NOT to Cook Dinner – 20 Painful Steps

I think I am a little… off these days. I have nothing else to offer you other than specific instructions on how not to cook dinner.

25tofly

Expectation

kitchen disaster

Reality (minus consoling male figure)

*All instructions are direct results of thorough investigation and experimentation by scholars of the 25tofly cooking institute on 11/26/2012 at 6:00pm.*

Nah, actually these instructions result from my lack of fluid motor skills and general cognition without wearing my LJs and consuming alcohol while cooking. If you learn anything from this, it is that you never deviate from standard protocol.

1. Buy all ingredients for a slightly unconventional Thanksgiving meal because you never got to eat any leftovers at your parents house. Include a rotisserie chicken in place of a turkey.

2. Get home and put that chicken (plastic container and all) in the oven just to keep in some of the warmth.  Leave oven off.

3. Make candied yams that look like baby food mush because you bought the wrong canned yams. Ignore this and add brown sugar to feel like you are still making it the correct way.

4. Set sweet potato slop aside and cut veggies for stuffing while slicing fingernail in half. Be thankful it wasn’t your entire finger.

5. Begin mixing the stuffing even though you realize you don’t have enough sherry to complete the recipe.

6. Forget about turkey chicken in oven and preheat to 400 degrees.

7. Add way more melted butter to the stuffing than you usually do, because the stuffing is acting like Rain-X to all moisture attempts.

8. Realize you left the chicken in the oven.

9. Panic and spill your apple cider.

10. Pull out mutated, and now surely radioactive plasticken.

11. Turn off oven and try to separate chicken from plastic container.

12. Try a piece, almost choke, and realize you will have to discard all of the chicken skin.

13. Place sides in the oven to bake for twenty minutes, but burn your hand while you are at it.

14. When the timer goes off, pull out your sides being careful not to burn your other hand.

15. You turned the oven off in step 11, dumbass.

16. Preheat oven again after you step in that drink you spilled but forgot to clean up. Your socks are now properly wet and gross and sad.

17. Bake sides for another twenty minutes while you stave off starvation by eating half of the rotisserie chicken.

18. When sides are finished baked (for real this time LOL), make yourself a plate.

19. Top it off with a roll that you smashed while trying to butter with cold butter.

20. Congratulations, you are no longer hungry. Now, put everything in tupperware, and do the dishes in scalding water to make sure you irritate your burn.

I’ll be ordering take-out tonight. You should too.

becca cord signature

“Update” is Such a Boring Title

Four tanks of gas in four days: $240.00

Beer, beer, and more beer: $50.00

Welcome home dinner from yourself to yourself: $20.00

Returning to your blog: Priceless

brass monkey

Nothing will make you focus more than a brass monkey’s exposed asshole.

That’s right. Everyone chill the fuck out. I am back. I even brought you some monkey bum. He is responsible for my absence. Come on, you would be distracted too if this was the only space in which you could work. I mean, why is he so adamant on picking up that over sized marble? Can he even lift it? Why am I turned on?

Actually, the more important question here is where the hell my mom bought this “decor”. Obviously, I have been home visiting family for the Thanksgiving holiday for the past four days. Now it is back to what makes the world go round blogging. Here is what’s up for this week: Read the rest of this entry

The Music of Mustache Make-Outs

Ever since Daan van den Bergh pooped out a glittery faberge egg for me on Twitter, then promoted me to the position of his official sound editor for his blog, I have been skipping like a leprechaun everywhere I go. I am mostly just impressed with him and his wife’s clay molding skills. Oh, and somehow he also talked me into being a make-out whore. I’ll let him explain…

It’s me, Daan.

Obviously it is the month for Movember. To those of you, who don’t know what that is, I am assuming that you are a newcomer and/or are living under a rock.  Read this post. Enlighten yourself.

Now, I want to tell you a story. I’m going to ask you to close your eyes while I tell the story. No, wait. I’m not actually talking. Just read it.

This is a story about an upper-lip enjoying a regular shave, a daily smooth-cut with sometimes a day or two in between. Eleven months pass by as suddenly November races up. The world gets darker each day as a carpet of thick, pointy hair consumes the upper-lip. Can you see it? It’s entangled in wire, caught unwillingly, all alone in the darkness. Can you? I want you to picture that upper-lip.

Now imagine that upper-lip is you.

So, I asked myself: what can I do to make these upper lips feel less lonely? What do you do when a guy feels bad? According to pop psychology, you either take him to a strip club or get him a hooker. I can’t help all of them and although prostitution is legal in my awesome country, it isn’t in the rest of the world. So I needed to come up with an alternative.

That’s why I got the Sound Editor of I Fkkn Rokk Studios (which happens to be the owner of this blog – happy coincidence!) to make-out with the 10 most ridiculous mustaches and share with us what it sounded like!

You’re welcome. Back to you, Becca. Read the rest of this entry

Le Clown finally let me use his blog. I kind of feel like I am Sam Wheat in that one scene from Ghost and his blog is Oda Mae Brown. I can even almost hear Unchained Melody playing in the background. Yeah, I went there with the Ghost reference. Problem with that? I didn’t think so. Go read my masterpiece and finally see the reveal of my JACKSTACHE!

You Asked…

There is a blogger I have recently been enjoying getting to know, even if she did read 50 Shades of Grey and is known for advocating team vagina. Storkhunting just received one of those blog awards. You know, the ones that many bloggers are on the fence about accepting or entertaining. I personally think they are wonderful encouragement. I received the Liebster award from a fellow blogger back in the infant days of 25tofly, and I remember how much it influenced me to keep at it.

internet high five

Since rules are for people who didn’t work at Outback Steakhouse, I don’t have to follow them. I am not passing on the award, but I did want to thank Storkhunting for reminding me of how thoughtful you all really are. And, she had a few questions. I couldn’t leave her hanging. She asks:

1. What is the square root of 473?

I don’t do math. Last time I tried to square root something I ended up in a coma. I did, however, score a 31 on my ACTs in English. BAM.

2. Do you make sure that you wear correct day of the week underwear?

Is this a serious question? I’ll wear “Saturday” on a Monday as long as they are long johns. That’s all that matters. IN LIFE.

3. If today will be tomorrow’s yesterday and today’s tomorrow, when’s tomorrow?

Sixty-three. I told you I don’t do math.

4. What’s in your fridge right now?

Left over fried chicken, one diet coke, Zing Zang bloody mary mix, five half empty bottles of ranch dressing, and expired eggnog. Don’t worry about the eggnog, I don’t follow in my dad’s footsteps.

5. Shirts – hang up or fold?

How about no shirts at all? Hooray nudity! Just kidding. T-shirts, fold. All other shirts, hang. Unless it is a sports team t-shirt.

6. Does it piss you off when people spell your name wrong?

I would think it would be kind of hard to misspell Becca, but I dislike when people spell Rebecca like Rebekah. I dislike it even more when people call me certain nicknames without asking.

7. What music are you listening to right now? I’m asking this because I’m fed up of the tunes on my ipod. Need some good recommendations.

Honestly? Alanis Morissette Pandora Radio. The Dirty Dancing sound track is a good investment too. Did I say that out loud?

8. Pet names – love ‘em or hate ‘em? (I mean baby, sweetie, honey not Buster, Rover, Fluffles).

I’ve been called baby. bunny, boo, boobaloo, sweetheart, honey, hun, and babe, but don’t you ever call me sugar tits.

9. Blogging in bed. Do you?

Of course, but for some reason the guy always gets all whiny and says things like, “Is this not doing it for you? You seem distracted“.

10. Planes, trains or automobiles?

Rip Sticks. Not.

11. How much do you hate me right now?

Not as much as I hate myself for just inhaling four large pieces of pizza in under five minutes and realizing that everything in my fridge will be to blame for my massive heart attack in ten years.

Thanks again for everything Storkhunting.

becca cord signature

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