Part I
And…. dun dun duuuuun… Part II
What you’re experiencing right now is an instant good mood. (If you’re not, we’re going to have to have a talk.)
Also On Tap for Today:
What is your favorite YouTube video of all time?
Yesterday he posted this, causing me to have an uncontrollable laughter-induced asthma attack.
Once I was able to breathe again, I clicked over to the original story and again, found myself needing medical attention. Allow me to paraphrase for you:
A man sees what he assumes to be a dying squirrel. He is incidentally a bartender, and unmarried (the man, not the squirrel). The man wants to give the squirrel a “dignified death,” so he tries to put it in a tree. Then the squirrel bites him… and dies. But don’t worry, animal control is following up.
Is this the strangest thing you have ever heard? I’m too busy imagining how any of this happened, to get anything done. At all. It’s a miracle I am even able to type right now. Also, if Nick comes home with a broken finger from a squirrel bite today… I just don’t know. This is the kind of thing my uncle Dick would have just loved.
Also On Tap for Today:
Not normal.
Also On Tap for Today:
If you were seeking a BFFL, what would you list as likes and dislikes?
The Jetsons totally invented Face Time.
Case in point: On Tuesday afternoon, I rushed to the Post Office before they closed to buy stamps for a gigantic invitation mailing. Because I live in the most awesome neighborhood in Boston, there was nowhere to park. And because I live in the most bizarre neighborhood in Boston, there were actually plenty of places to park, but they were marked with lawn chairs, an old filing cabinet, and a pile of shoes.
I’ve come to the point this winter where I ain’t afraid of no milk crate. I’ve tossed three– count ‘em, three!– space savers into snow banks when I’ve needed to make a quick stop in Southie. All three times, I put the space saver right back where I found it, and I believe no one was the wiser. Unless you’re reading this now. In which case, I drive a… purple…. um…. station wagon. With flames on the side.
What I won’t mess with is space savers that are being guarded by actual, real humans. It’s like the new breed of neighborhood patrol or something. Just as I was about to go for one orange cone-marked spot, a woman giving me the Evil Eye popped out of nowhere. No thanks.
So I circled the block five times, like a complete creep, until a spot finally opened within walking distance of the Post Office. Apparently this expedition took a full twenty minutes, because my watch read 5:01 as I reached the firmly locked front door. In some sort of possessed craze, I pressed my face against the glass (Eureka! That’s how I got a cold again!) and mouthed the words,
“Pleeeaaaaase. Leeeet meeee iiiiiiiiin. Staaaaaaaamps. Ahhhhh.”
It’s a wonder, really, that no one obliged my request. This is where things go from bad to worse, on in the Universe’s eyes, from good to completely tubular. I had the invitation in my hand that needed to be weighed so that I could buy the appropriate whatever-cent stamps for the rest of the batch. I also had a few miscellaneous letters and bills to mail. Why did I put them all– including the un-stamped, un-weighed invitation– into the giant blue mailbox? Doh! I left my stupid parking spot with no stamps, and no invitation with which to determine which stamps I needed to buy in the first place.
Then there was today, when I made a quick trip to the ladies room (not sure why I felt compelled to tell you it was quick, but it was) and was certain I had locked my stall door, until it flew wide open. And I was not alone in the bathroom. Naturally. I hate public restrooms. Especially when they’re really, well, public.
I could go on and on, but I don’t want you laughing too hard. At me.
I believe the score stands at Universe: Eleventy million, Elizabeth: zero.
Also On Tap for Today:
Is the Universe on your side today?
According to scientists a random website claiming to quote a Vanderbilt study, one can burn as many as 50 calories a day by laughing. Fifty calories! That’s half a 100 calorie pack of Cheez-Its! Good heavens. If you laughed off 50 calories a day, you could laugh off a full 4.4 lbs each year. Wouldn’t that be fun? The challenge, of course, is that you’d have to find something to laugh about on the reg. If you’re me, you look in the mirror and find an endless reservoir of giggles.
But you’re not me. You’re you. And you might need some help. Shall we?
My favorite line? “…we met on an oil rig and we were lovers for fifty years!”
Overload would imply that at some point, you’ve had enough. I’ve been devoting quite a bit of my life’s time to scrolling through the pages of Cute Overload and if anything, I am left wanting more. More pictures of baby goats standing atop open dishwasher doors, to be specific.
Source: www.cuteoverload.com
They pay their writers for a reason. That reason? So we can pass time in the card section, even when we have no occasion for which to be buying cards, awkwardly solo-laughing in public.
There have been no new tweets since s/he stopped erupting, but when s/he was active (both environmentally and on Twitter) s/he was a real hoot.
I don’t know about you, but I find the best flavor of humor is often local. Straight out of Massachusetts this week:
And don’t even get me started on public access television. There’s a show that airs on the Cape that, as best I can tell, features two cranky ladies gossiping in their finest embroidered turtlenecks. I love it. My hometown newspaper is often rife with comedic gems, better known as Letters to the Editor. When I worked in Rhode Island, I discovered that the local paper in town took this practice to a whole ‘nutha level, publishing anonymous phone messages (seriously) in a section titled “Speak Out.”
Speaking of anonymous phone calls, who doesn’t love a good prank call?
I prefer the old-fangled ones, but the new fangled ones are good for a laugh, too.
Source: www.nataliedee.com
A pirate walked into a bar with a ships wheel shoved down the front of his pants. The bartender saw him approach the bar and asked, “Sir, are you aware you have a ship’s wheel in your trousers?” ”Ay,” the pirate replied, “it’s drivin’ me nuts.”
Too vulgar? My apologies.
According to his dog walker, he is a one man (canine?) comedy show. Please excuse the pee/poo over-share. And the misspelling of Clark.
In truth, you can’t rent him, but excessive photos and videos are free of charge. Just say the word. I stalk my dog.
Also On Tap for Today:
Your turn. Make me laugh and I will be your fifty-calorie-burning friend forever.
I like to misuse corporate jargon whenever possible. I try to integrate phrases or buzz words like circle back, best practices, taking a 10,000 ft. view, and my most favorite, subvert the dominant paradigm, when least proper or sensible. If I were playing Buzzword Bingo against myself, I’d probably… always win.
Speaking of winning (even though the good guys lost), there was a BC v. Stinks to BU hockey game on Friday night. Unfortunately my older brother was sick, but fortunately, he offered us his tickets for the game. Thanks, Jimmy! Here’s the really cool (Awful pun? Intended!) part: the game was outdoors, at Fenway Park.
Frozen Fenway
And this, folks, is why I took a layered approach:
I bundled up to the point of being smoking hot. And who knows, I may have even looked good. Layering up inside, with the heat on? Not the most comfortable plan.
That's the hood to my Fenway Parka... get it?
I packed a few snacks and a bottle of water (which, surprisingly, was not promptly confiscated at the Park), my digicam, an extra pair of gloves, a winter hat and–most importantly–my winning attitude. Off we went to Fenway to watch the boys in maroon and gold play ball. With a hockey puck.
Also On Tap for Today:
What’s your favorite corporate buzz word? Please misuse it in a sentence.
*Please excuse the overabundance of Christmas references. I am in full on elf mode and can’t help myself. No matter what you believe and celebrate, I am wishing you and yours a very happy and healthy season!
You might be scrambling for thoughtful, although last minute, gifts for kith and kin. And since On Tap for Today is the internet’s most reliable source of information (second only, perhaps, to the wikipedia pages I myself have edited), here you are.
Or maybe, you’re completely bored and there are no Golden Girls marathons on today. Or even more likely, you searched for something important… like, which beers are on tap at your local spot today. Whoops. I welcome you, irregardless.
This time of year, the internet is overflowing with gift guides, promising to lead you to the Golden Fleece of presents. One that will never be re-gifted, but rather treasured for all time. While the other folks will tell you what to buy, I felt it my duty to advise you of the opposite.
In some particular order, the five presents you must not buy:
www.amazon.com
I'm scared.
But wait… haircut clean up is only a suction away! Nope. This is still a bad idea. Don’t buy it. You might want to visit their site, however. The picture of the lady Flowbee-ing is priceless.
If you’re laughing right now, you’re completely sick. And you just earned membership in my exclusive club.
Please don't bite me. Photo: makli.com
At the end of the day, there may be no better present than your presence. Unless you’re a bad person. Just kidding… you’re perfect. Back away from the last minute “deals” and just show up as your merry self. After all, we celebrate Christmas* because Baby Jesus arrived… not because He arrived with a Zhu-Zhu pet.
Also On Tap for Today:
How are you/have you been celebrating the holidays? Do you have a favorite tradition to share? Or a particularly awful special present?
Moronic things I’ve done this week:
Slightly less moronic things I’ve done this week:
Completely unmoronic things I participated in, but cannot take credit for:
Un-categorized:
What the heck did you do this week?
If I wasn’t in love with our condo (and if I hadn’t vowed to never move again… until we move again), then I would seriously consider taking up permanent residence at the Container Store.
From their punny shopping bags (Contain yourself! …get it?) to their storage solutions to problems I didn’t even know I had, it’s Nirvana for control freaks with questionable senses of humor.
Speaking of Nirvana, late last week my intern accidentally snapped the head off the Buddha my brother brought back from Thailand. For over a year, that little guy had been overseeing the karmic flow of my office, making knowing eye contact with me every once in a while to remind me to stop swearing and start recycling, and now…
…he rests in pieces.
I am not really sure how it happened, but at some point, he unceremoniously hit my glass desktop, and his holy head went shooting into my lap. My poor intern looked like she might croak. I thought about asking her to go to Thailand to find me a replacement (immediately, obviously), but I am more Michael Scott than Miranda Priestly. Instead, I wadded up a piece of double stick tape, mushed the head back on, and went about my business. And by business, I mean posting the above picture to Facebook.
Needless to say, this quasi-traumatic incident left me craving balance and order, and there is no earthly place more rife with both than the Container Store. Nick and I made a pilgrimage to their Natick store (after spending hours and dollars at Jordan’s Furniture. Side note: apparently any color that is not beige is considered a “custom” color. Please stay tuned for 6 weeks for our living room transformation! Wooo!) this weekend. Man, we know how to live.
One giant cartload and several hours of sweat and elbow grease (ew) later, we now have two of the world’s most organized closets. Once I find my label maker (I might be the only person Type A enough to have a label maker… and yet, Type B enough that it is missing), I can kick it up one more notch. Bam!
A place for everything and everything in its place.
–Isabella Mary Beeton, The Book of Household Management (1861)
Now I just need to find a place for Buddha’s head.
Also On Tap for Today:
How do you restore balance? How do you react when another human breaks one of your toys, with grace and poise? Or glares and profanity? Any good ideas for the man and the sister’s birthdays?
Once I had a soccer related emergency and went to the hospital.
End of post? In your dreams.
The people on either side of me in the ER had, respectively, a broken nose and several missing fingers. The second resulted from a man falling out of an attic window while cutting something atop a step ladder. Mid fall (out the window), the man snipped a few of his fingers off. Unintentionally, one could assume.
One bed down from Snippets was a child who fell out of a tree and landed on a park bench, rupturing his pancreas. Or was it his spleen? Did I mention it was Fall? Haaaaaaa. It was.
The whole scenario reeked of the Twilight Zone (minus the vampire books); the fact that we were in the middle of nowhere and the hospital itself was the size of my (attached) pinky didn’t help.
I probably didn’t get the attention I needed from the ER doc that night, and I am pretty sure the dude with the broken nose probably diagnosed and discharged himself, but in the world of triage, missing digits and ruptured innards probably trump a broken-ish ankle. And if that’s what it takes to get some attention, I will gladly take my spleen and fingers, exit the spotlight and fade into the background. Or onto the internet.
Also On Tap for Today:
Have you ever severed a limb to get attention? Me neither, honest. What sort of wackiness have you encountered lately?
