FIVE RANDOM FIVE

Five Irrational Fears

Fear that the mirror guy is stalking you

Fear the color mauve will kill you while you sleep

Fear that if you smelt it you really have dealt it

Fear of denim based life forms

Fear of air quotes

 

Five Waiting Room Mistakes

Not checking in

Sitting next to a coughing kid

Reading a 3-year-old US News & World Report

Making eye contact with anyone

Assuming the staff actually gives a damn

 

Five Band Names That Could Be Diseases

Naked Eyes

The dB’s

Quarterflash

Chilliwack

Chumbawumba

 

Five Game Shows In Hell

Wheel of Misfortune

Card Sharks With Actual Sharks

Match Game BM

Win Ben Stein’s Kidney

Are You Smarter Than A 5th Grader?

 

Five Signs You’re Dating A Doctor Who Fan

He doesn’t call you his girlfriend but his companion

He lists UNIT as a reference on his resume

Draws an extra heart on all his Valentine’s Day cards

His fashion sense relies heavily on scarves, brollies, fezzes and bowties

During sex, he screams, “It’s bigger on the inside than it is on the outside!”

Casual Fail

I saw an article in the paper titled “Go To Work In Your Pajamas.” I thought it was a pretty cool idea, so I showed up at the office in my night wear. Unfortunately, management didn’t care for it as much. Turns out, the article wasn’t about a new business casual but about telecommuting. I guess I should read the fine print next time. (And maybe get some pajamas that don’t have Hello Kitty characters on them.)

Pop Goes The Weasel

All I gots to say is if you have ever had anything to do with – or know someone who has had anything to do with – even tangentially – pop-up ads on the Internet then you are horrible scum who will die a slow, painful death – unless I die first then I will come back from the dead and haunt your soul with a fierce, evil hatred born of the pain that is having to deal with your damn pop-up ads!

Seriously. Pop-ups. Wouldn’t your time be better spent making fun of orphans or pushing grandma down the stairs?!

People I Hate #781 (In A Series)

Who: Cookie Puss.

Why: What the hell’s he supposed to be? It’s like a space alien got nasty with a proboscis monkey. Look at him! He’s just freaky. Big bug eyes and an ice cream cone nose – tasty, sure, but if this frozen bastard doesn’t haunt your soul then you’re made of sterner stuff than I am.

How I justify it: My fifth birthday and long after the Carvel confection had been devoured by a horde of kindergarteners I awake to see his horrible visage staring at me in the darkness. My parents say it was a dream but I know the face of evil when it visits me in the night and this demonic dessert is the only thing that will never melt in the fires of Hell!

Dope on a Rope

When I turned 13, my parents sent me to a ropes course for my birthday. I thought it was gonna be this big celebration with tug of war and jump rope and all but I ended up running around in the dirt and mud and climbing up and down and all over ropes like I was in Boot Camp. I guess the name – “ropes course” – should have tipped me off but I honestly thought it was going to be a great big friggin’ party like Chuck E. Cheese or something.

Party All The Time

There was this kid in my seventh grade Social Studies class who had a birthday party every month. One month, he invited a bunch of guys over to his house for cake and ice cream, saying it was his 13th birthday. The next month, he sends out invitations to a bash at Chuck E. Cheese’s claiming he was turning twelve. The following month, he had a sleepover for his 15th. The next thing you know, he’s got a bunch of us at some public park under the pretense it was his 21st birthday and he wanted to kick off adulthood with “all his happening young pals.”

Why the subterfuge? The lies? Was this kid desperate for attention or friendship or popularity? No one ever found out. Understand, it’s not that we were stupid and didn’t realize we were being played for some odd reason. It’s just that we were all in the throes of puberty and he had a really hot mom. 

Really hot. 

Caren Kaye in My Tutor hot.

There We Were All In One Place, A Generation Lost In Space

It seems hard to believe that it was only 45 years ago we all gathered together there on Yasgur’s farm. I don’t recall much of the experience, primarily due to sleep deprivation. (Do you know how hard it is to catch forty winks when half a million hippies are groovin’ to rock music? And the music was, like, nonstop!) Still, I jotted down a few notes for my school paper. Sadly, the article was never published because the principal refused to celebrate “those counter culture weirdos.” 

Nonetheless, here are a few excerpts from my own personal Woodstock diary:

“An Aquarian Exposition: 3 Days of Peace & Music.” So says the poster. For 18 bucks, the Beatles better show up carrying the Rolling Stones, the Doors and Cream on their freakin’ shoulders!

A 20-mile traffic jam? We are not walking all that way!

Sigh. We’re walking all that way.

Electronicat

No message here, folks … it’s just after the unfortunate news of the last few days, I think we just need some kitties dancing.

Bake Off

A while back, I got put in charge of my brother-in-law’s bachelor party. I wanted to have this woman jump out of a cake but things didn’t go too well. The cake itself was fine … about fifty pounds of flour, a gross of eggs, enough icing to choke an anaconda – and I had to use one of those industrial-strength ovens, the kiln type they fire up huge ceramics in. The time and labor were incredible. Then, at the party, I wheel out the cake and – nothing. The lady didn’t jump out. Later, the ME said something about asphyxiation and being baked alive but all I know is everyone was pretty darn upset about the whole mishigas. And I never got asked to plan a bachelor party again.

People I Hate #624 (In A Series)

Who: Any movie reviewer who uses the phrase “Cowabunga!” to review the new Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles film.

Why: It’s the equivalent of using “Zap! Pow! Bam!” in a headline for an article on comic books. It’s lazy writing based on a cursory knowledge of the subject which, regardless of the cinematic production, deserves an honest, fresh appraisal.

How I justify it: I have little tolerance for trite, hackneyed phrasing, especially from people who are supposed to critique creative offerings. You get paid to watch movies for a living, the least you can do is be original!