Pillow Talk With Holly and Harry Hangover

This morning was pure comedy in my household. Last night was bowling night with the girls from work, which almost always results in a hungover Friday. Today was no different. To make matters worse, the hubs had man night last night (which also almost always results in a hangover), so I couldn't even whine until he rubbed my back. He was too busy whining, too. To say we were a sad pair this morning is the understatement of the year. Luckily, we both might have still been drunk, so there were a lot of silly shenanigans going on (nothing sexual or anything . . . I'm pretty sure sexy time would have made me barf*) to make up for the horrific headache and the spinning room. I thought I'd share some of our craziness with you, just for shiggles. Our conversation went a little something like this:

Holly: Ufffffffffff.
Harry: I am hungover like a whoooooooooore!
Holly: Uffffff. <pregnant** dramatic pause> Yeah. A whore that went to a really great party last night with a whole lotta free booze. Whores love free booze.
Harry: Everybody loves free booze.
Holly: Yeah, but if my headache is any indication, it must have been a whores' party with buckets and buckets of champagne. Because champagne makes your head hurt. And whores love it.

Then, somehow we got on the topic of tampons. Don't ask.

Harry: We should invent a new line of tampons and call them Corks. With an "x." C-O-R-X. That would be awesome.
Holly: Bahaha! Why the "x"? Because of the X chromosomes? That's clever.
Harry: Uh, yeah. That, too. But mostly because of the amazing marketing you could do. "Corx! They're extraordinary!" Can't you just see the commercial now?
Holly: Yeah, and we could have chicks chugging big ol' bottles of wine, and then corking them. You know, just to illustrate the point.
Harry: Yes! It should be red wine. And there should be a demonstration where they pour red wine into the Corx to prove how effective they are.
Holly: Xtra strength Corx! For those extra heavy days.
Harry: The stronger the Corx, the more "x"s on the packaging.
Holly: Put a Corx in her, she's done.

. . . and then he played the saxophone for me. Careless Whisper, to be exact. And I sang along ('cause it's kinda what I do). It was magical.


*Do people still say "barf"? If not, I'm totally bringing it back. I think it does a good job of illustrating just how gross the act of vomiting is. Barf. 
**It couldn't be a pregnant pause because I was drunk. Only assholes drink when they're pregnant.

"Tambo liteh sette mo-jah! Yo! Jambo jambo!"*

As I'm wrapping up my current job before the upcoming move, there's a laundry list of things to get done before my last day, one of which is going through and cleaning out my inbox. Well, in doing so, I came across one of my funnier email exchanges with a friend of mine. I thought that I should share, in the hopes that you appreciate our ridiculously immature sense of humor as much as we do.

To give you a quick back-story, this email chain was inspired by an interesting article that I'd seen on a friend's Facebook page that morning (because every day after my alarm goes off thrice (give me a break - I only allow myself two snooze hits), I roll over, grab the ol' crackberry, and catch up on my social media . . . with one eye open), about the average penis size of every country. Obviously, it piqued my interest.** View the stats for yourself here. You know you want to. I won't judge . . . much.

Anywho, to make a long story longer, I found some of the numbers (specifically the high and low benchmarks) SO interesting, I thought I should pass on the fun-filled facts. My friend T and I chatted about the details over lunch (which resulted in fits of giggles, as per yoojh) . . . and I followed up the conversation with an email, which led to the following email chain (Uh...yeah. You're obviously going to want to click the pics to enlarge. I'm 99.99% sure that it's worth it. Unless your sense of humor sucks. In which case, I'm really not overly concerned with you thinking this is funny, because you very likely don't think anything I have to say is funny, and if that's the case, we should part ways here. Beat it. Now that that's over with, shall we get to the laughs? Thanks.):

 

Hahaha! Gets me every time. Also, I know T mentioned it, but let me again point out the usage of the upper and lower case p's to further indicate the size. What you can't tell from these tiny little thumbnails is that in the original emails, the p's are true scale representations. That's right, folks. I got out my ruler and made sure that the diagrams were accurate. How else would T have a reliable reference point? Anyway, I hope you got as much of a kick out of that as we did. We incidentally both forwarded the chain to our personal email addresses for a rainy day.


*Gold star if you can get the song reference in the title of this post! For those of you wondering, it's not a real language. The singer made it up himself. Promise. So, I figure this line can mean whatever I want it to mean. My prerogative. Another 80's song reference! I'm on a roll. Anyway, the actual title of the song I referenced was just another little tongue-in-cheek tie-in for you other 80's babies and/or trivia lovers.  

**It's not like I'm a big perv or anything, I just thought it was an attention-grabbing topic. It's kind of like the naked African women in National Geographic with the face tats and huge, saggy boobs. You're not turned on by the sight, but it's still interesting. 

Fun with Nicknames

Happy Hump Day, kiddos! I’m not sure if anyone else takes note of the Google doodles on the Google homepage every day, but a couple of days ago, Google posted a series of different doodles inspired by the Hargreaves Mr. Men and Little Miss characters in honor of Hargreaves’ 76^th birthday. 

These were some of my favorite doodles, because I love those characters! (Side note: have you seen today’s Google art? Man. They really outdid themselves with that one. If you haven’t already, you should definitely check it out. I was impressed.) One thing about me that you may not know is that I love nicknames. Pretty much everyone in my life (especially the important peeps) has some sort of a nickname. The Little Miss characters hit especially close to home because a few years ago, I worked at a well-known mortgage company that shall remain nameless (good riddance), and two of my good friends and I (Think along the lines of the office Mean Girls crew. My life soundtrack always skipped straight to Milkshake when we walked through the office. Don’t judge. You would want to eat with us at lunch, too. Trust me. We were funny. Still are.) decided that we all needed Little Miss nicknames. Missy was Little Miss Bossy, Mokel was Little Miss Chatterbox and I was Little Miss Trouble. Fitting, right? It’s interesting how you somehow at least one Hargreaves character is the perfect illustration of someone’s personality. At my current job, my co-worker clique already has code names for everyone else. How else can we talk about them freely without fear of repercussions? Good ol’ Marcy put together a diagram so everyone could keep track of all of the nicknames and avoid confusion. Click to view the details of the diagram.

Everyone’s name came about for some sort of reason. For example, Dump Truck was so named because of this instant message conversation:

So, anyway, the recent Hargreaves characters inspired me to try to determine which character best suited all of our ridiculous characters at work. I’ll have to report back with the details. In the meantime, which Hargreaves character are you, and why? See below for a list of characters to choose from, or click here to take the quiz. I’d love to hear back from you! This can be my first official interactive blog. Fun!

Please excuse the brevity of my last two posts. I am currently playing the avoidance game with my final but alas, I have procrastinated until the very last minute and have to take the dreaded test tonight. I should be back to normal by tomorrow. Promise.

All Google Doodles courtesy of Google

Mr. Men & Little Miss Poster image courtesy of this site

Diagram courtesy of Marcy Magoo

Thanks to Kelis for Milkshake - still a great song and yes, still part of my soundtrack.

Yelp Nazi? Geh weg! Ihre Art ist unerwünscht sind.

Buenos dias! Feliz Cinco de Mayo, folks! Hopefully everybody has some fun plans tonight to drink too much tequila and/or Dos Equis. ("We're going streaking!") If you're planning on doing tequila shots, I highly recommend Don Julio. Goes down like a dream (TWSS). I would also recommend getting a designated driver or a cab. DUIs don't look good on anyone.

Moving right along, let me get crack-a-lackin' on today's post. I joined Yelp several months back just for shiggles. Funny thing is, I think I've written a total of three whopping reviews. What's even more interesting is in those three reviews, I already had a little run-in with someone on Yelp that really soured the experience for me. Do I manage to piss people off randomly with everything I do? That's gotta be some kind of talent. So anyway, correct me if I'm wrong, but Yelp is a lot like this blog - an opportunity for people to honestly express their opinion about things...right? Yeah, that's what I thought, too.

Well, I happened to post a review about a less than stellar experience I had at a local eatery in the Heights, talking candidly about the terrible service and shitty attitude of the cashier. I personally thought it was kind of funny (not to mention helpful and informative), but whatever. (You can read the review in its entirety here, if you so wish.) To my surprise, the next day, I had a message in my inbox from Emily Z, who in my opinion must either be the owner of this place, the abovementioned cashier with the shitty attitude and perma-stink-eye, or some random cheesehound groupie chick who considers herself to be a foodie and is probably sleeping with the owner for free skillets of sub par mac and cheese. See below for the maddening morsel:

...wait, what? Did she seriously just tell me to re-think my review? Trust me, I thought about it plenty in the 3 months it took me to finally join Yelp just so I could write a bad review about this pointless restaurant. But thanks for your concern. I didn't realize that there was a Yelp content Nazi who sat around, reading all of the reviews of the day, and inboxing contributers with suggestions on improving their posts opinions. It's almost like she's threatening me! "Really, I would re-think your review." Ok, let me get this straight. YOU would rethink MY review? It sounds as though you already have. Maybe YOU should rethink YOUR review. How about that? Or better yet, here's a thought: instead of spending so much time and energy making sure I know that YOU don't approve of MY review, how about you just move on with your life? Write your own reviews! I don't recall asking for anyone to review my review. It's my opinion. If you don't like it; piss off. I know I'm not taking your message "serious" because you don't know when to use pronouns appropriately. Furthermore, you must have taken my review pretty seriously if you felt the need to send me a personal message, telling me to rethink my opinion.

Hey, Emily Z - get back to your über important job of slingin' plates of macaroni and cheese and mind your business. You're probably hovering over the lunch counter right now, pointing your gnarled, warty finger at any customer who (heaven forbid) wants to substitute ingredients in their order of jus' crap; yelling and going on about how THERE ARE NO SUBSTITUTIONS and how they should seriously rethink their order or "no soup mac for you!" Meanwhile, I'll be over here - NOT rethinking my review. But thanks for your input.

The Soup Nazi
Tags: The Soup Nazi

Commentary This, You Say? Commentary This, I Shall, I Say.*

I am still quasi-personality-less this evening, as I have yet to recover from my brush with death sickness; however, I received this little teaser from my Aggie friend, Taryn (C/W), and couldn’t resist:

The link led me to a gallery of photos documenting the Lady Ags’ postseason stint. There were so many great action shots, showing those women powering through the Tournament…and there were so many great action shots that were just begging for captions.**

…Do I smell a challenge? I accept, my good friend! T, this one’s for you. (You’re my boy, Blue!) I’ll try to keep it to one caption per picture so this post doesn’t get any longer than it’s already destined to be…and heeeeere we go…



  

…I’m pretty sure she chose the blue pill.

That’s one small step for [wo]man; one giant leap for McNeese State...but yet, still not good enough. A for effort?

"Back up off me! I go hard in the paint and a gigantic knee brace to the gennies is not going to feel as good as my hand does right now. Trust me; I know."

 

"I’ll see your fist in my crotch and raise you a hand on your boob."

Look out, folks! It just went from the NCAA Tournament to the Quidditch World Cup awful quick-like. Shit just got real.

Well, that's all for tonight, kids. I'm about to go sip on some [fully legal, doctor prescribed, nothing-to-see-here-folks, just MIND YOUR BUSINESS] sizzurp and take my sick ass to bed.

Y'all come back now, ya hear?

*I know what you're thinking. "I thought she was sick!" Update on my bout with the ebola virus recovery/sickness for those of you that care (and for those of you that don't give a shit, but are very thorough readers that simply cannot pass up an asterisk footnote): I am still sick. I still have that run-over-by-a-truck feeling, but the good news is, I'm on the way to feeling better...I think. Seriously, it's been a week. If I don't get better soon, I may be forced to do something crazy. You hear me? Cra-zy. So fingers crossed for a [less than speedy, at this point - let's be real] recovery. 'Cause if that last digression is any indication, I'm already on my way to crazy.

**All photos courtesy of www.chron.com/sports

Friday Funny

...isn't everyone? The recession is so bad it's affecting soda fountains? Shit. Hard times.

Prescription Drug Side Effects – Does the Bad Outweigh the Good?

Before I begin this morning’s post, let me say – I am absolutely a proponent of pharmacology. I think that there are some medical conditions which require treatment through the use of prescription medications. I am the first one to schedule an appointment with my GP if I am not feeling well. However, have you ever really paid attention to those prescription medication commercials? I mean really listened.

Ridiculously chipper content aside (I mean, who is really happy with genital herpes?), all of those drug commercials are pretty inconsequential…until they get to the side effects. How many people are willing to suffer through those terrible side effects, just to reach an end result? I can understand if the medication is needed for some potentially life-threatening condition. But what about people who are looking to stop smoking, cure acne or lose a little bit of weight?

There are three medications that I would like to highlight today that are taken for the abovementioned indications and come with a list of side effects that would make any rational person stop and take note:

Alli – This drug was endorsed in 2007 by Oprah Winfrey as an FDA-approved, over-the-counter weight loss drug that “…prevents your body from digesting about 25 percent of the fat in your food. In studies, people who took the pill while dieting typically lost 50 percent more weight than those who just dieted.” Sounds great, right? What Oprah did not emphasize was the undesirable side effects that can occur when taking Alli, including (but not limited to):

Gas with an oily anal discharge
Loose stools or diarrhea
More frequest bowel movements
Hard-to-control bowel movements

Um…gas with an oily anal discharge? Hard-to-control bowel movements? Wow. So let me get this straight – not only will I shart, I also run the risk of shitting my pants at any given moment? No, thanks. I guess nobody thought to ask where that 25% of the fat in your food that your body isn’t digesting was going. No need to ask – it’s apparently going to come flying out of your asshole for a little afternoon delight.  

Accutane – This was a very popular drug back in my high school days, used for the treatment of severe acne. How bad can the side effects of acne medication be, right?  Well, this particular drug has so many adverse side effects; I thought I would just include the best of the best. See for yourself:

Depression
Erectile dysfunction (difficulty in maintaining erection)
Violent behavior/aggression
Psychosis (seeing or hearing things that are not real)
Suicidal ideation (rare)
Suicide attempts
Hearing impairment
Major birth defects
Blood-red vision
Stroke
Seizures

WTF? I’m gonna go ahead and put it all out there: NOT WORTH IT. Just for clear skin? So, let me get this straight - although the men who take Accutane may end up with skin as smooth as a baby’s bottom…even if they could then get a date, the probability of being able to seal the deal…slim to none. I can just see it now, “Sorry, baby. It’s not you; it’s my meds.” Talk about the perfect FML post. Haha the best part of this list is that the manufacturer felt the need to qualify some of the side effects...you have suicidal ideations, but it's rare. You are far more likely to TRY to kill yourself than to just THINK about it. What also really gets me is the manufacturer’s response to an inquiry about the most important information patients should know about Accutane: “Accutane may cause serious mental health problems.” Super. People who take Accutane will indeed end up with clear skin. The only drawback is that they also may end up dead, or in a mental hospital. Yikes.

Chantix – This is my personal favorite. Chantix is a drug that is prescribed to help people stop smoking. I think it’s commendable that people want to quit this nasty habit…but I would suggest they opt for Nicorette, or good, old-fashioned willpower. The side effects for Chantix suck. Pretty much everyone I have spoken to that has ever taken it experienced adverse side effects within the 1^st month…and when I say adverse, I mean adverse. The manufacturer doesn’t simply list a few possible side effects; this drug comes with a full on warning:

WARNING

SERIOUS NEUROPSYCHIATRIC EVENTS

Serious neuropsychiatric events including, but not limited to, depression, suicidal ideation, suicide attempt and completed suicide have been reported in patients taking CHANTIX. Some reported cases may have been complicated by the symptoms of nicotine withdrawal in patients who stopped smoking. Depressed mood may be a symptom of nicotine withdrawal. Depression, rarely including suicidal ideation, has been reported in smokers undergoing a smoking cessation attempt without medication. However, some of these symptoms have occurred in patients taking CHANTIX who continued to smoke.

All patients being treated with CHANTIX should be observed for neuropsychiatric symptoms including changes in behavior, hostility, agitation, depressed mood, and suicide-related events, including ideation, behavior, and attempted suicide. These symptoms, as well as worsening of pre-existing psychiatric illness and completed suicide, have been reported in some patients attempting to quit smoking while taking CHANTIX in the postmarketing experience. When symptoms were reported, most were during CHANTIX treatment, but some were following discontinuation of CHANTIX therapy.

It sounds to me that basically what they are saying is…just keep smoking. You’ll probably eventually die of lung cancer or heart disease…but hey, we all have to die some day. Wouldn’t you rather die happy with a ciggie in your hand, than because you killed your entire family (and then yourself) in a Chantix-induced rage?

I’ll leave you with this simple thought: Yes, we live in an undeniably shallow society. But at the end of the day, most people prefer fat, cigarette smokers with severe acne than impotent psychotic people with homicidal thoughts and explosive diarrhea.

BALLS!

    Source: http://www.oddballs.co.uk/juggling-balls-stage-balls-c-1190_2170.html

 Ok, there. I said it. And what a fun word it is!
Balls is SO great because of its versatility.

Obviously, it can be used as a noun (with several connotations, no less): "Where'd the ball go?" OR "Is that the guy with the old balls?!"
It can be used in an exclamatory way: "Balls!"
It can be used as an adjective: "This party is balls."
It can be used as a colorful noun in a simile: "It is hot as balls out there!"

Balls can be used as a weapon: "He was a terrible pitcher! He hit me twice with his balls (TWSS)!"
Balls can be foul (in more ways than one): "Foul ball!"
Balls can be fun...when you get to dress up in your finery and partake in a dance or two (get your mind out of the gutter).

I'd go on, but I don't want to bore you with my balls rantings.

In short, balls are fun to talk about, but that's pretty much the extent of their appeal. Unless you are a 3-5 year old or a man over the age of 13...in which case, you probably really enjoy playing with balls.