Category Archives: Humor
My exclusive interview with Mr. Hook! Get over there!
She’s been one of my faves from the very beginning, back when she was the Prime Flyster. She’s the one (along with Lily Morgan), whom all the bellman say “Who’s that hot dish?”, when they see her face on our computer screen.
(Okay, to be clear, only one guy ever actually made the hot dish remark and we had to let him go after an incident we’ve been ordered to never discuss. And since the order came from guys in black suits accompanied by dudes in Hazmat gear, we’re sticking to it.)
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Our third Mini Meet Up is well under way! Check out the details here.
Hello World! It’s time for a Mini-Meet-Up! How exciting is this? Pretty exciting, if I do say so myself. Alright, here’s the deets.
When we’re meeting – Saturday, May 3rd 2014
Where we’re meeting – Outlaw’s Bar*B*Que
What time we’re meeting – We have 30 spaces reserved in their Banquet Room from 2pm to 6pm
Who is gonna be there – All Bloggers! (and friends)
Outlaw’s Bar*B*Que is centrally located in Grand Prairie, Texas – About 16 miles from Downtown Dallas, and 23 miles from Downtown Fort Worth. While putting this together I couldn’t help but think what says Texas more than barbecue? Also, there will be Happy Hour from 3pm to 6pm. For those that might get a little too “loosey- goosey” I will be there to help you get home.
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It is not often that I cross the threshold of beauty salons, let alone get excited about being forced to have my hair and make up done for an event. This past weekend I stood in a wedding. For the most part, it was eerily calm, the bride was happy, and no one’s dress miraculously didn’t fit. However, there was one part of the day’s events that is still haunting me.
Have you ever heard of the art of airbrushing? Let me jog your memory.
You remember this classy form of painting now, right? The creations are limitless and the colors really pop in ways that even artists like Georgia O’keeffe just couldn’t quit grasp. Now, take this airbrushing concept and think about what it would be like if you could apply it to your face.
I am not teasing you, it can be done. I experienced it first hand.
You are probably scrambling to Google “airbrush make-up artists near me, ” but please continue to read before you book an appointment. This once in a lifetime opportunity to have your make-up painted on like a cheap, middle of the mall t-shirt is something for which you should really mentally prepare. I can tell you what to expect.
1. The artist who is going to be painting your eager canvass is going to be way prettier than you. Mostly because her make-up will be flawless, but she doesn’t “practice airbrushing on herself,” and she’s telling the truth. It’s just a thing artists do, it doesn’t say anything about the art form’s quality. No, not at all.
2. Unless you have frequently had your head sprayed with a fire extinguisher, prepare to slightly piss your pants when she applies her obnoxious tool to your face. It will happen more than once.
3. The artist will likely compliment your perfect eyebrows and then immediately proceed to “enhance” them for about ten minutes with what I deferred to be a Sharpie pen.
4. Airbrush make-up is literally a breathtaking art form, mostly when you forget to close your mouth and hold your breath during the application of Pumpkin Rot No. 3 to your “voluptuous” cheek bones.
5. Most artists like to save their work for a big reveal once they are completely finished, you know, as opposed to letting you see what they are doing until it’s too late to punt the airbrush gun and make a run for it.
In the end, you will most likely look similar to this:
Obviously, you know what needs to be done. Go dig up that old airbrush t-shirt with Tweety Bird on it and go get your face dyed like an Easter Egg. Until next time Flysters, I will be exfoliating my face with Comet.
It has been quite a while since I have shared any conversations with my geriatric boyfriend Mr. OB. Since I can now type again, I can’t think of a better way to get back into the swing of posting than to give you some more disturbing pictures of his character. If you don’t know who Mr. OB is (short for Mr. Outback), I’ll tell you now, you won’t ever get an accurate bio of him. Here or anywhere for that matter. But you can infer what you will about him from my series of stories here and by reading the rest of this post.
Look closely, this is the most you will ever see of Mr. OB
I had the pleasure of another long overdue dinner and visitation with Mr. OB a few nights ago. It is yet to be determined if he was or was not stoned. Not that that serves as a logical reason that the following conversation occurred, but he seemed bit… paranoid.
We said our hellos first:
Mr. OB: “What’s wrong with you?”
Mr. OB: “Oh, you look funny”
Me: Well my arm was swallowed by a first aid kit, but other than that…
On topics of medical experiences, needles, and the like.
Me: “Wait, so you think if you put a needle in your leg that you will accidentally pull back on the syringe and suck out your insides?”
Mr. OB: “Well yeah, I don’t know what is in there!”
Me: “You mean, in your body?”
Mr. OB: “Yeah! And I don’t want to know.”
Me: “You know, I don’t think needles work like plungers and turkey basters. Wait, why are you stabbing yourself with needles in the first place?”
Mr. OB: Mumbles something about bees and tractors running into trees
Mr. OB: “When that thing comes on at Outback, I am ducking behind the register. The blade is coming out of that thing and it’s flying across the bar and straight into my neck.” making dramatic throat slicing motion
Me: “Because that blender blade has had it out for you since it found out you only drink wine, right?”
Mr. OB: “I’ve seen it happen.”
Me: Well I am sure a lot of people “see” things that would never happen. Ever heard of intrusive thoughts? Hallucinations? Paranoia?
Mr. OB: “You just wait. I’m telling you. It’s gonna happen. I just hope it won’t be me. But it will probably be me.”
Me: to the bartender “Can I get a frozen margarita? Well blended please?”
Check out my latest vlog in the sidebar on the most obvious topic of all. The internet. ———————————————————————————->
I’ll finally be able to type (efficiently) again by Tuesday, and all will be right with the universe once more. Talk to me in the comments to help me get through my last days with this splint okay? Cool. Thanks.
The mini events are starting! This time, back in Austin for SXSW. Free tickets, free drinks, and a cozy place to hang out provided by Jelifi.com. RSVP now!
Hello you beautiful bloggers. It has certainly been a hot minute since our last post recapping the events of BI13, and rightfully so. After all of the success of BI13, we needed some time to relax, reminisce, and basically recharge our bloggerific batteries before jumping in to the organization of BI14.
One of the goals we set for future BI activities was to engage and involve more bloggers in more places. We want it to be easier (and cheaper!) for everyone to join in on the real life fun. We decided that the best way to do so was to reach out to bloggers in other regions to develop BI mini-meetups. This will be in addition to the main BI event (official details about the main event for 2014 are coming soon — hint — we already have a location nailed down). We think this will help open up more…
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The Keurig. It’s been around for a while now. It began as an idea in 1995 and has been in stores since at least 2010. This popular apparatus is from the same era as the iPhone 4, so why does it seem like people just discovered them all of the sudden ? Admittedly, I didn’t do enough research to find out the exact date it went to market, because I am lazy. This can only mean one thing: I obviously own Keurig.
I heard about this sassy machine at some point in fall 2013 from several different people. Oddly, those people fell into a precise target market. Over 30, married, smokers. Maybe that was a coincidence, but if you’re a 30 year old married smoker, I bet you’d punt a penguin to have a Donut Shop or Dark Roast after reading this post.
The Keurig has brought us to believe that brewing a pot of coffee is like rolling your own cigarettes. One convenience of the machine is that you don’t really have to clean it, unless of course your cat throws up on it. Which is pretty incredible. The self cleaning mechanism, not the cat puke. I wish they made cats that self clean their own puke.
Oh yes, we were talking about coffee. And cigarettes. And the Keurig. It seems like it has gotten to the point that people are as obsessed with their K-cups as they are with Starbucks, Miley Cyrus, memes, or even Miley Cyrus memes about Starbucks. Here is how to tell if you are one of those people (which for the record, I am not).
1. Since your mother-in-law gifted you your Keurig for Christmas, you have updated your stand-by resume with the added qualification of Barista.
2. You are a heterosexual man who is more excited over mention of K-cups than C-cups.
3. The largest brew setting is a crushing disappointment in your opinion.
4. You are not even slightly terrified of the massive needle used to pierce your K-cup, bleeding its contents into your greedy mug. In fact, you find it excitingly sadistic.
5. An annoying amount of your kitchen counter top space is bombarded with accessories like this:
Keurigs really are great, I get it. Like I said, I have and use one of my own. Sure, it makes me look suave when I offer customized coffee at the end of all the fancy dinner parties I don’t have, but I still love-hate it for so many reasons:
1. The largest brew setting is a crushing disappointment, even for the non obsessed. But I guess that is what happens when the inventor himself had caffeine poisoning during its making. Pansy.
2. Inserting a K-Cup is like feeding a Piraña.
3. The Starbucks K-cups are still not as good as actual Starbucks. But that’s okay, I can only afford to buy the Great Value K-cups anyway.
4. Speaking of the K-cups, where the hell are the Black Tar roasts? I like a little coffee with my water please.
5. Fuck you “add water” light. Who has time to fill a water reservoir anymore? Give me a coffee maker that connects directly to my water line and creates a perpetual coffee-fall, and then we will talk.
What do you think about these java beasts? Love them? Hate them? Love and hate them? Let’s talk about it.
I’m the type of person who has absolutely no problem dining alone, and in fact, I rather enjoy it. It’s like meditation in the form of stuffing your face. No one is there to judge you for ordering that entree sized appetizer and an actual entree. You don’t have to worry about taking a bite right at the very moment that your dining mate asks you a pressing question, resulting in a very long awkward pause while you try to chew at choking hazard speed to free your tongue for speaking, thus ruining the bite altogether. And you also don’t have to play checkbook table hockey to decide who is going to pick up the tab.
Dining alone is sublime if you ask me, but along with everything else in the world, there are a few downsides. Let me fill you in.
1. People will feel sorry for you. Especially and extremely so if you are over fifty. I don’t know why, but when I see an older man or woman dining alone I want to slit my wrists.
2. Your waiter will unintentionally make you feel inadequate by slowly taking away all of the other silverware on the table and saying something like, “Is it just you tonight?”
3. Remember those people who are feeling sorry for you? You will eventually succumb to their stares and whip out your smart phone to pretend you are handling important business emails, when you are really seeing how bad you look with a double chin on Fat Booth before you order that appetizer disguised as an entree.
4. At this point, your waiter has now joined in on the pity party for you, so you will have to deal with taking a bite right at the very moment that he asks you a pressing question about your refill, resulting in a very long awkward pause while you try to chew at choking hazard speed to free your tongue for speaking, thus ruining the bite altogether.
5. You have to pay. Unless the entire staring restaurant forms a sympathy pool to pay for your pathetic dinner.
So let me fix my first paragraph about dining alone: No one is there to judge you for ordering that entree sized appetizer and an actual entree … except yourself. You don’t have to worry about taking a bite right at the very moment that your dining mate asks you a pressing question, resulting in a long awkward pause while you try to chew at choking hazard speed to free your tongue for speaking, thus ruining the bite altogether… but your waiter will have the same bad timing. And you also don’t have to play checkbook table hockey to decide who is going to pick up the tab… but there is absolutely no chance you are getting a free meal.
So I meant it when I said that I enjoy dining alone. I enjoy dining alone in my living room while watching old episodes of The Office and secretly pining over Dwight. Don’t judge me.
Dining alone while reading this?! Let me give you more stuff to do on your smart phone so you don’t look so bored. Check out Not A Redhead on YouTube here.