Saturday, August 21, 2010

Having Fun with Christian Bale and Bill Pullman

Who doesn't love Christian Bale and Bill Pullman? I sure as hell love them. Which is why I would like to hang out with these two for a day.

I'm sure you're wondering why I would like to hang out with these two fine actors on the same day. It's simple really. I would recreate a musical number from "Newsies" with them. I'm still working out the details. Like hiring musically trained boys to help create the scene.

I'll get back to you once I've figured it all out.

Having Fun with Tom Hanks (Sorry, more sketch comedy...sort of)

Tom Hanks, an all around lovable guy. If fate somehow allowed me to hang out with him for a day, here are some fun activities I would hope Mr. Hanks would partake in.

For starters, Mr. Hanks and I would be walking around a set (a hollywood set, or perhaps the SNL set, he does like to visit often) just general chit-chat is happening. Like how amazing his wife looks. Seriously, I hope I look that good at that age. And what should appear when we walk around a corner? A giant floor piano! Who put that there? Certainly not me at 5:30 in the morning with the help of movers and security... Mr. Hanks is suspicious, I appear shocked. We laugh at the irony. I gently tap a key with my foot, I mean why not play a little tune Mr. Hanks, for 'ol times sake? Maybe the classic "Poker Face" by Lady Gaga? And being the awesome guy he is, he does it! Who cares how he randomly knows how to play that tune.

Our next adventure would need to take place in New York as it involves the Empire State Building. We're walking around the top of the building, just enjoying the splendid views. Tom asks me why I'm dressed like Jonah from "Sleepless in Seattle"? What? I say. This old outfit? Just one of my favorites. At that moment we bump into Meg Ryan. I mean, who could have predicted that! Mr. Hanks asks her what is she doing here. Meg Ryan says her assistant received an urgent message and package that had to be delivered by Ms. Ryan at this spot at this time. Well what is in the package? Mr. Hanks asks.

What indeed?

Why a backpack? And there's a teddy bear inside? Silly me, those are mine I say. And then I suggest we walk to the elevator holding hands.

To end our day, Mr. Hanks and I would sit on a bench and enjoy a box of chocolates.

That's it.

I enjoy the simple things in life.

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

I Keep Having These Damn Funny Thoughts

Every time "Break Your Heart" by Taio Cruz and Ludacris comes on the radio, I picture Grumpy Bear from the Care Bears singing and dancing in the music video. I may need therapy for this one.

Sunday, June 20, 2010

The Catherine Zeta Jones' School for Winning Awards

If you saw the travesty of Catherine Zeta Jones' performance during the Tony Awards you'll get the joke. If you didn't see it live, I'm sure you can find it on You Tube. I must warn you, it is painful to watch. Even more painful is that she actually won a Tony Award for best "Performance" if you can even call it that. Pretty nice of her husband to buy that for her. Even her and Michael Douglas "acting" surprised for when her name was announced is lousy. Seeing her lousy performance again on The Soup inspired this piece.

Commercial for the school:

Catherine Zeta Jones: "Hello, I'm Oscar and now Tony Award winning actress Catherine Zeta Jones. I'm here today to tell you about my newest project, something that may be a great opportunity for you. Many people have asked me over the years, 'How do you do it? No seriously, how do you get these awards?' I would laugh and quickly change the subject. But over time it got me thinking, why not share what I know? Sure there are plenty of schools for acting, but for any actor to feel accomplished they need to feel rewarded. That's why at The Catherine Zeta Jones' School for Winning Awards, we'll show you how."

Student,"I always thought acting was about studying human emotion and developing the part you're playing. But thanks to the CZJSFWA, I learned that if you make over the top head and hand motions, and over enunciate, that's pretty much enough to win anything. Oh, and to bribe the voters..."
Camera cuts her off

C.Z.J.: "I didn't...I mean, We don't bribe the voters. In this school we teach you how to persuade the voters in your direction, otherwise something bad may happen to them. Or to their children who may be trying to get into the industry. We also teach the importance of marrying well. Not only for tax reasons, but how a husband or wife who's been in the business a number of years can bring greater influence to your career. The only real acting you'll be taught here is how to act surprised when you win your awards. They're the only acting lessons you'll need. Why waste the time and money on traditional acting schools when bottom line, you know what you really want. At The Catherine Zeta Jones' School for Winning Awards, we'll show you how." (she winks and smiles)

Tuesday, June 15, 2010

Huggies Ad Campaign

So I absolutely love the Huggies Ad for the jean diapers. If you haven't seen it yet, do yourself a favor and check it out on You Tube right now. I'll wait...

Amazing right?

But I thought, why should babies have all the fun pooing in cool diapers? That is why Huggies next step should be adult diapers that are jeans. Has your mind been blown yet?

And the best part is, the commercial would be exactly the same but with old people! An 80 year old man in the adult jean diaper and a crisp white shirt (to keep it classy). And maybe he meets up with his old lady, in PINK jean diapers for women. They may even say "Juicy" on the back to keep it real. And they are just working it down the street, making everyone else jealous.

Your welcome Huggies.

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

How to Train Your Chef (some more sketch comedy)

As you read this sketch I want you to picture it in black and white, a very 40's/50's informational video vibe. For the voice of the narrator, I can't help but think of Conan O'Brien when he does his 1920's newspaper boy voice. A great man, robbed of his Tonight Show...moving on. Here's a sketch that shows my chefyness (sp?)

Narrator (a.k.a The Great O'Brien): "How to Train Your Chef! An informational guide to bringing up your culinary pup!"

Title screen clears, next scene comes up...

Narrator: "We've all found our chefs in various ways. Perhaps your little buddy wound up on your doorstep (The doorbell rings, the lady of the house opens the door, we see a male chef late 50's giving her puppy eyes and whimpering, he holds up a beautifully carved watermelon as if to say 'please take me in'. The lady's son walks up next to her and he studies the chef. He turns to his mom and says, 'Can't we keep him?') Oh my, now you don't want to disappoint Timmy now do you?

"You may have bought your culinary friend at the store." (Father, Mother, son and daughter are walking through the "pet" store looking at all the different chefs in their glass cages. The line cook version [I can't help but picture Tim Roth playing this part] wearing a wife-beater shirt, doo-rag, covered in gang tattoos, smoking, flipping burgers, he looks up, kids smile and wave, line cook [a.k.a. Tim Roth] gives them the finger. "Oh dear, this one doesn't seem to play well with others." The smiles disappear from the kids' faces. The line cook looks at the mother, smiles and grabs his junk.) "I think it's time to move on kiddies.

"Or your little pastry buddy was given to you by a loved one." (We see a pastry chef looking down ashamed, the old owner is explaining to the new owner why he can't keep her. Shots of his house with butter and chocolate stains on the carpet and furniture.)

"No matter where you found your culinary pup, you can keep them happy with these simple steps. First, give them plenty of tools to keep them occupied. (We see a chef with a kitchen knife awkwardly whacking at an onion with the back of the knife. The family watches with disappointed looks. The father says to the mother, 'We may have to put this one down, seems to be defective.') Narrator, "Hold on there pops! Don't despair, you may have found a pastry chef. Try giving the little guy some puff dough." (The father shrugs and gives the chef some puff dough. The chef grows a big smile and gets to work. The family smiles and laughs. The mother says, 'And to think we were going to put him down!' The chef looks up for a moment with a scared look on his face, then gets back to work like his life depends on it.)

Narrator, "Second, make sure they have plenty of clean clothes to change into. These crazy critters can get messy quite fast." (A lady chef with clothes covered in stains looks at her messy self, looks up and shrugs as if she can't help it. Child hands her some clean chef whites. They both smile, look at the camera, wink and give a thumbs up.)

Narrator, "And last, once you have your culinary pup settled, be sure to never bring caterers into the home. No matter what breed, they are very territorial." (Lady chef on the front lawn, she has on an electric fence collar, arms crossed and holding a couple knifes. Catering truck pulls up in front of the house. Lady chef gives the driver the evil eye and shakes her head. Driver gets the idea and speeds off) "But play dates are all right." (Two families are together, one chef each, the two chefs are going over the menu and trying to figure out the wine pairings. The families watch smiling.)

The Great O'Brien, "Follow these simple rules and you can be sure to raise a happy culinary pup into a master chef!"

Dammit Anthony Hopkins! (a little sketch comedy)

Allow me for a moment to pretend I'm a writer on SNL and write a little sketch comedy.

My inspiration, if you haven't guessed from the title is Mr. Anthony Hopkins. I got the idea when he was interviewed on Ellen years ago. He talked about the tricks he liked to play on set. In particular, just when the director was ready to roll camera, Mr. Hopkins would throw his voice and make either a cat or dog sound. The director would then hold everything and tell everyone to find the animal and get it off set. And Mr. Hopkins would just stand there and giggle to himself.

Bottom line, Hannibal Lecter is just a little stinker.

And now the sketch:

The scene: The kitchen area in an office. We see Mr. Hopkins dumping the sugar out of the bowl. He then proceeds to fill it with salt. All the while checking his surroundings to make sure no one sees him. He puts the lid back on the sugar bowl and walks away, hands in his pockets and whistling, but eyes darting everywhere to make sure no one saw him.

From the other side of the kitchen in walk a couple office workers. The one worker goes to the coffee and refills her cup. She puts in cream and sugar, talking to her co-worker during the process. She takes a sip of the coffee, her face turns sour and she spits it back out. She and the other worker check the cream, its fine. They check the sugar, then realize its salt. The woman cries out, "Dammit Anthony Hopkins!"

Mr. Hopkins is watching from around the corner. He giggles and sneaks away.

In the next scene we see Mr. Hopkins with a jar of Vaseline. He takes a large glob and smears it behind a door handle. We are still in the office. He giggles to himself and scampers off to hide behind a cubicle. He ducks down quickly, but slowly his head comes up just until his eyes are peaking over the top. Within moments an office worker walks up to the door and opens it. He stops in his tracks and inspects what is now all over his hands. He cries out, "Dammit Anthony Hopkins!"

Mr. Hopkins laughs and quickly ducks behind the cubicle again.

A woman is working in her cubicle. She gets up and walks away. Mr. Hopkins sneaks in. He's looking for something. It's her purse, he starts going through the items and finds her birth control pills. He takes the pills out of the case and replaces them with identical mock pills. He giggles and sneaks back out of the cubicle. The woman returns unaware of what has occurred.

Three weeks later.

We are at the woman's house. She's in the bathroom looking at the pregnancy test stick. It's positive. She smiles and laughs and simply says, "Dammit Anthony Hopkins."


ANOTHER Funny Thought

I'm addicted to the show "Intervention". Is that irony? Or just damn good television.

Thursday, April 8, 2010

Another Funny Thought

The next time you're starting to get intimate with your boyfriend/husband, whisper this into his ear:

"I want to finger you so gently."

Then take a picture of his face, those are memories to last a lifetime :o)

Tuesday, March 30, 2010


Religion, quite the finicky subject. And I am certainly not one to preach, this is more to explore and just to relate.

I was raised Catholic, First Communion and Confirmation, the whole deal. I believe my Mother raised my sister and I that way because she feared the wrath of her mother if we weren't raised to be good Catholics.

Once my sister and I had gone through our Catholic schooling, we didn't really want to go to church every Sunday, we're human. My Mother felt the same way. But again, we didn't want to anger Grandma. So on Sundays we didn't answer the phone from 12-1 pm so that our Grandmother would think we're at church. Funny thing was, Grandma did tend to call around that time, I think she was checking. Just in case you're wondering why she isn't in church that time, she's in the small group of people that goes to church really damn early.

I know some, maybe even many people who read this will be angry that I don't go to church every Sunday. Some will think how can I call myself Catholic. Let me give you some perspective on my Catholic experience. When I was very little, just beginning my Catholic schooling, my parents divorce was being finalized. Believe me, it was far healthier for them to be apart then together. And I remember distinctly how the people at church, even the priests, treated my Mother differently. Even the "friends" my Mom had made at church started to separate themselves from her. Tell me, is that being a true loving Catholic? I know divorce is a big no, no, especially in this religion, but until you know the reasons why a couple is separating, don't judge.

So that coupled with the ongoing scandals in the Catholic church I do have trouble believing in my religion. I don't think going to Church every Sunday is the only way to show you have faith, it's what you do outside those walls that count. And I'm still trying to figure out the whole God thing. Though I do find myself praying to him at times. If he is up there I prefer not to bother him, he's got enough on his plate, he doesn't need to deal with my petty problems.

At times I picture all the different gods from various religions up there playing poker and laughing at us.

Bottom line, whatever your faith, if it makes you want to be a better person, who's to say its wrong?

(although the whole suicide bombing thing is just nanners)

Thursday, March 11, 2010

The Mortician and the Baker

In a particular small town, the funeral home was across the street from a bakery.

The young man who worked at the funeral home liked his job, despite the morbidity of it.

He also liked the young woman who worked at the bakery across the street.

He never developed the courage to introduce himself to her, but took delight in the moments he could watch her work on delightful desserts.

He did find it ironic that while he prepped the dead she prepped the pastries.

While he buttoned the vest of a deceased grandfather, she put candy buttons on a cake.

Then the young mortician noticed the young woman wasn't working in the bakeshop anymore.

Saddened that she must have moved away, he went to work.

And there was the young woman, waiting to be buried.

His heart fell.

Wanting to keep the memory of her he kept a button from her dress.

At the funeral he saw the family that could have been a part of his.

The young mortician never married.

He grew old, and as all of us do, he passed on.

In heaven, we all return to our youthful selves.

And James finally returned the button to Sally.

Tuesday, March 9, 2010

Funny Thoughts

We all have those random thoughts that pass through our minds and make us giggle to ourselves. After laughing to yourself you look up and realize that everyone in the elevator is staring at you, worried you're laughing at the thought of blowing up the building. I've wandered off, here are some funny thoughts I've had to myself.

- If you pinch a puppy, will it grant you a wish?

- I punched an elephant today. After I felt melancholy.

- Do penguins waddle because they are perpetually drunk?

- Cats...why?

- I sometimes hope the homeless man I've passed used to be the CEO of Enron.

- Annoying children should be forced to babysit drunk relatives, see how they like it.

- Do porn stars have letters of recommendation along with their resumes? "Shows great effort and enthusiasm" "Gets the job done" "Works well with others"

- I bought a Snuggie and purposefully don't use the sleeves. Damn the man.

That's all I can remember for now. Will keep you updated. Feel free to share your funny thoughts.

Sunday, February 21, 2010

I'm so mad at my mother...(courtesy of Steve Martin)

Moms. It can be a love/hate relationship. Especially between a mother and daughter. Since I still live with my mom (like a rock star) there are inevitable fights. Or just those situations where she can make me feel so small and useless. Here's one of my favorites.

For her birthday I had a big plan to make her a surprise meal. The tricky part was timing, to run to the store and make the meal the day of while she was at work. Being the summer I wanted to keep it somewhat light, so I made a classic ceviche and a 9" lemon tart from scratch, crust and all! I was so excited to do something like this for her. Real life being what it is, plans changed and she was able to come home early that day. I thought, "Oh well, it'll still be quite a surprise, I'll just be finishing some things when she gets home."

So I'm in the kitchen, the tart is cooling on the stove, and I'm still cutting up some of the white fish for the ceviche. She comes home and walks into the kitchen. I smile and say, "Happy Birthday! I'm making you dinner, I'm just finishing up." She looks at the ceviche, a disgusted look comes across her face and she says, "That's the dinner?" in the most disappointed voice possible.

My heart breaks.

Suddenly I'm trying to defend the nice thing I was trying to do for her. Then she goes into how I shouldn't make her feel bad on her birthday and how reasonable she's being. I could go on and on, but even now typing this out, it still hurts.

Then just this past weekend she and I went to a party that was celebrating several of my friends' birthdays, including my own! I made a ton of yummy cupcakes of course. And one of my friends is expecting a baby, so for her gift I knitted a baby blanket, fluffy and soft. My mom reminded me how to knit and do the edging, but I bought the yarn and spent almost a month getting it done. The party was fun and lovely, even my mom seemed to be having a good time.

Flash forward to the next day. I come downstairs, before I or she even says, "Good morning" she starts, "I was just thinking how much of the ingredients you must have gone through to make those cupcakes. And you could have at least said I did the edging on the blanket."

Confused? So was I.

I contribute to groceries every month and I fully planned to restock the sugar, flour and such. And excuse me about the blanket? Thank you for reminding me how to knit but dammit I did the work. I couldn't talk to her for the rest of the day I was so furious. I should have simply said, "Fuck you". But I still have to somehow live with this woman. I seriously need a reasonably priced apartment. Maybe I'll get that for my birthday.

Watch she makes me dinner...then its my turn >:oD

Thursday, February 18, 2010

Debbie Does it on My Sheets

So I like to watch porn. I'm human. Yes, a woman who watches porn, men pick your jaws up off the floor now thank you. And before I get into my real story, guys with girlfriends and wives who make you feel like guilty perverts for watching porn, they secretly like it too. It's just that girls have been raised to abhor such things and feel guilty for liking it. So they would rather not be put in that position and avoid it all together. Okay, maybe not all girls like porn, but dammit they are curious.

I don't really have to explain why I like porn, main reason is pretty obvious. Although one part why I do like it is that it is very educational. New positions and such, and why you always need a cucumber handy.

But my real tale that I wish to share is how I feel a special connection to the porn community. One night a few years ago, watching porn (duh), it happened. While the man and the woman slinked into the bedroom getting all sexy I noticed something very distinct. The sheets they were about to get freaky on as it were. They were my sheets. My bedding. Their set designer (they use those right?) picked my bed sheets for the sexy scene! Now I know what you're thinking, I must sleep on silk and lace sheets in black and red colors.


My bedding, which I picked out in high school mind you, are pale blue and yellow with patterns of pale pink roses all over. The cover is reversible too! (So was the woman in the porn, maybe that's why they picked them) And my innocent sheets in no way fit in with the rest of the decor, or the story line (innocent school girl getting freaky? nay nay...) I think they were in a mansion too, making my sheets stand out more!!! My bedding is not grand or elegant enough to be in a mansion. I could not believe it. What's more unbelievable is that I wasn't smart enough at the time to write down the name of the film. No proof. I feel like it had to be Skintimax or Friday After Dark, or something on HBO. I know it wasn't "Oops I Swallowed", too recent. I may have to start a contest to see who can find the film. Until then, the mystery remains...

Wednesday, February 10, 2010


There are those situations where you find yourself accidentally eavesdropping. Not because you're nosy, but clearly the people talking want to be heard, no matter how embarrassing their topic of conversation. For me the best (or maybe it should be called the worst) happened a few years ago in a Starbucks...yes I do enjoy soft jazz and pretentious drinks, get a job you hippie. I'm just kidding, no one will hire you until you shower.

So, while adding sugar and taste-testing my coffee, this is what I overheard:

Woman, "How long was your grandmother missing?"
Man, "Oh, 3 to 4 days, then they found the body. She wasn't dead, but they asked me, 'Does your grandmother usually swim naked in the Housatonic River?' I said no..."

I shit you not.

How do I remember this? Well, in high school I started a quote diary. Just those everyday moments, those one-liners my friends would say and I just had to write down. Sadly most of them will only be funny to me. But in this particular situation, where I had to bolt out of the Starbucks before laughing in a strangers face, I wrote it on a piece of paper I found in my car and kept it in the diary.

What I still can't believe, and still remember to this day, is how casual the conversation was. It was as if they were discussing their day at work, not a missing, streaking relative! (okay I'm just going to put it out there...Grannies Gone Wild: Dentures know there's a niche market for that)

Speaking of the elderly, there is another fond, and awkward moment that just came to mind. It occurred years ago on a cruise trip with my family. While waiting for the elevator with my sister, two elderly women were coming down the hall towards us. One of the women I believe had a lunch that must have upset her tummy because she started to toot with every step. Her timing was impeccable, like walking on whoopy cushions, it was always on the beat. Her hearing appeared to be fine because with every blow she said, "Oh dear" or "Oh my". So knowing her hearing was intact my sister and I tried out hardest to stifle our laughter, also known as the church giggles. Those moments where you know you shouldn't laugh, but can't fucking help it! Finally the elevator came, we run in and make the doors shut before rootin' tootin' granny can join us (yes I know I'm going to Hell) and then we crumple to the floor laughing.

They say with old age comes wisdom. And from these two situations I can also look forward to forgetting who I am, why I'm required to wear clothes, and farting down the river...awesome.

Sunday, February 7, 2010

My Kind of Man

When it comes to men, I suppose I am a bit picky. There is one kind however, when I see him walking down the street or shopping in a grocery store, he just warms my heart and I want to take him home with me. Let me see how well I can paint the picture.

He's in his 70's to 90's. If it's warm out he tends to wear bermuda shorts, sandals with black socks that rise up to mid-calf. When it's chilly he'll cover his head with a newspaper boy hat and a scarf that no doubt represents his alma-mater. He may be slightly hunched over with age, but he doesn't let it slow him down as he shuffles down the sidewalk or the aisle. Oh the cute shuffle he does. You know he was a dancer in his younger days. I see him and I just want to adopt him.

You know he likes to play cards, perhaps Gin or Solitare. And he could talk for hours about the good old days, like the war, the first or the second, doesn't matter.

So call me picky, or color this blog really short, but that is my kind of man.

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

Some Pet Peeves

When I made the decision to go to Culinary School I couldn't wait to tell people. I quickly realized what a mistake this was. Here is what would happen 99% of the time:

1) Their eyes would grow wide and immediately "ooo" and "ahhh"

2) They would say, "I would be happy to be your taste tester anytime." Every time someone would say this they would smile coyly and wink thinking they are oh so clever and the first person to say this to me. Little did they know they were the 100th and sure wouldn't be the last.

3) If I was meeting a friend of a relative, the relative in question couldn't wait to share what I do for a living. Their friend quickly does either 1 or 2, or more often they say, "How nice it must be to have a chef in the family. You must do all the cooking at the holidays." Again winking and again making me cringe.

4) They ask me if I would do all their cooking for the holidays.

The thing that's tough to make people understand is how unglamorous it really is to be a chef. Those who aren't in the business automatically think of the Food Network and think that we all get to work in bright, shiny kitchens with flattering lighting. That we love every moment laboring over a recipe and have all the time in the world to get it done right. Now, I hate to use this as a reference, but Hell's Kitchen is a bit more accurate to the daily life of a chef. God knows it is overdone and made much more dramatic, but that and Top Chef really shows the pressure we're under. We all have been yelled at by the Executive Chef at one time or another. There is a major time crunch in the kitchen but no matter what the food must be perfect when it leaves the kitchen. We're on our feet for at least 10 hours a day and we're lucky to get a half-hour break for a meal, even luckier if we get to sit down while we eat it. You're really lucky if your kitchen has a window to the outside world. In some cases you're lucky to have a window. Not to mention dealing with picky customers. The meal or dessert is made perfectly, they eat 90% of it, then suddenly feel it is not up to par and demand it replaced without being charged for either one. Is the customer always right?

So why be a chef?

For one, it sure as hell beats being stuck in a cubicle all day long. At times it's an adrenaline rush, pushing yourself to get the job done faster. And when you can stand behind your work and see people genuinely appreciating and admiring what you've created, you can't help but smile and feel proud.

Saturday, January 30, 2010

Oh Neville...

In every group of friends, no matter where they live or what they may do for a living, there is always one person in that group that gets picked on. A more common name for this person is "the bitch". And for whatever reason "the bitch" tends to be a guy. Obviously "the bitch" does not willingly submit him or herself to this position, but over time it slowly and subtly happens. In college "the bitch" in my group of friends was a boy named "Neville" (obviously not the real name, I have to give this guy a chance of un-bitching himself...yes I do think un-bitching is a real word).

There are many tales of Neville getting picked on. From having pages from various porn magazines plastered all over his side of the dorm room (not surprising he did keep them up for awhile). Shortly after that they planted a vibrator under his pillow to keep the theme going, Neville did not keep that around. And from day to day the streams of comments insinuating that Neville must be a girl or gay. If the latter, they constantly made plans for the coming out party that would include a keg of Zima. I'm still trying to figure out how Zima is associated with the homosexual community, some of my friends are just idiots and I apologize if this offends anyone.

There is one tale that is my favorite, it's not necessarily epic or the moment that Neville became "the bitch" (still trying to pinpoint that one) but whenever I think of it, it makes me smile and giggle to myself.

My friends and I went to cooking school, and as a part of our daily uniform we had to wear a toque to class everyday. For those of you who don't know, a toque is the tall, white, cylindrical hat that you see chefs wear. There are various styles, ours were completely open on top for ventilation, and I think they were just cheaper for the school to get. One day in class my friends had the brilliant idea to keep throwing a bit of flour in Neville's toque, then when the moment comes when he takes it off, boom! That's one messy Neville. So throughout class a friend would keep Neville distracted while the other threw flour in his toque. It got to the point where we were sure Neville would begin to feel something was on top of his head that shouldn't be there. Luckily Neville was as ever unobservant, oh Neville! Now, we thought he would take his toque off during lecture, as most of the class does, giving the gag it's optimal audience, or so we thought.

He kept the damn thing on.

There was so much flour in his toque now that every so often, if he moved just right, a bit of the powder would come out underneath dusting his shoulders! We could barely stifle our laughter, waiting for the moment to arrive. End of class comes, the toque is still on, and we head to the dining hall. We all sit down, finally one of us says, "Okay, class is over now, you can take off the damn toque and relax." Neville looks confused as this has never been an issue before, but he agrees by removing his hat. Boom! One messy Neville in the middle of the dining hall and everyone is laughing. At first Neville is ticked off, but then he can't help but laugh at being turned into a human powder puff.

*These stunts were done by professional college students who were bored and had nothing better to do and we don't blame you for copying but please do them in good humor.

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

Color Me Special?

When you ask a relative about how you were as a child you hope to hear some positive attributes. For example, "Cute as a button", or "Busy as a bee", or maybe even "A little stinker". Any adjective or story that will help spark a childhood memory. Over the last few years, a few of my relatives have given me the same label over and over again..."special". That's right, over the last few years I have found out that my relatives thought I was slightly retarded in my youth.
In high school I heard about this for the first time. I don't know how the topic came up, but my mother told me how her mother, that's right, my own grandmother, constantly made comments on my mental health. How I seemed to be a little slow on the draw. My mother can laugh at it now, even at the fact that she sometimes agreed with her (the bitch is getting coal for Mother's Day). I was of course horrified and hurt. How did I come off so "special"? Sure, I peed on the floor once and carried around our parakeet by it's tail, but I was just being a kid right? Anyone?
Another favorite is my aunt. She tells me how she would watch me play and talk and she would constantly think, "Oh dear, the child just ain't right." And again, everyone listening just laughs at this in agreement. My own family.
Now, I am not diagnosed with any mental disabilities. Although I have had my fair share of "special" moments, but who hasn't? I mean, when I thought the stapler was empty, instead of opening it to see if it was in fact empty, I tested it on my wrist instead. And to my surprise, there were a few staples left, one of which was now lodged in my wrist. Or no matter how many times I would cut open the ottoman to see what was inside, much to my mothers dismay, I would have to go back one more time and open it again, just in case anything changed.
It did hurt when my family laughed at how I behaved in my childhood. But then I looked at some baby and toddler photos of myself. And then I started laughing. I have a huge head, which I believe I am still growing into (by the way, those "one size fits all" hats in the stores, they just mock me with their lies). And, okay, tricky sensitive territory here, but I just looked "special". Home videos have also helped me see what my relatives saw way back when. Why did I like to keep locking myself in the closet only wearing a pair of diapers and a hat? Though I thought it was very smart of me to start yelling at myself after I peed on the carpet, it shows I knew it was wrong. And so what, after opening all my birthday presents, I still wanted to go back and play in the cardboard house we had for years already, it shows I'm not materialistic.
So, when it comes up again that everyone thought I was special when I was little, I can't help but laugh too. And I also have an interesting theory. You know how Asian comedians can make fun of other Asians, Hispanic comedians can make fun of other Hispanics, and Black comedians can make fun of everyone? Well, since I was thought to be, and even treated as special for so long, can I poke fun at my people? No, that doesn't sound right. Though I do feel less guilty when I laugh at the special jokes in "The Ringer".

Monday, January 25, 2010

The Blind Date to End All Blind Dates

In middle school I had my first ever blind date. Funny enough it was also my last. This blind date was set up by a friend of mine whom I was taking Catholic school classes with (religion intertwined with romance, I know, already a promising start). She kept telling me about her guy friend, let's call him "Tim" for secrets sake, that and I just can't remember the damn guy's name. Anyhow, she kept telling me how he really wanted to go out with me but was too shy to ask me himself. Being as young and naive as I was, and going through more hormonal changes than I could deal with, I agreed to let her arrange our date to the movies.
Soon enough the date night came, my mother drove me to the movie theatre and waited with me for my date to arrive ( I know, I know, almost too sexy already). I only knew his name (at that time at least) and had no idea what my date would look like. Then, walking through the double door entrance to the theatre was a most beautiful boy, practically a man. He could have been in a boy band (at that time, that was a good thing). With dark hair and sculpted features, I thought, "Could I be this lucky?" As many of you may have already I was in fact admiring my date's older brother who drove him to the theatre, and who apparently stole all the handsome genes in the family. I glanced at my date and immediately wanted the night to be over. Now, he wasn't completely tragic and God knows I am not in a position to behave as a beauty above him, but nonetheless I could not help but be disappointed. As my date and I awkwardly smiled at each other and struggled to even say hello, my mother and his brother discussed what time they would pick the two love birds up.
"Tim" and I went into the theatre where thankfully we would not have to talk. He just kept looking at me and smiling. Adding to the evening, "Tim's" entourage seemed to magically appear in the same theatre as us, and throughout the movie he kept leaving with them, and then would come back to join me. I had no idea what was going on nor what to do. This was my first dating experience and I just assumed this to be a normal thing, leaving to give his buddies updates and tell them how cool I was (again, I was very young and naive). Finally, after his 5th or so meeting with his entourage and coming back to his seat, he kept looking at me and smiling at me, seeming to struggle with the words he wanted to say. In my mind I'm thinking, "Oh dear God, he is about to profess his love to me and will want to continue dating. What am I ever going to do?" Finally, "Tim" looked at me and said, "I have to tell you something but I'm not sure how to say it." I can only imagine the horror-struck look on my face. He continued, "I thought...I thought...well, I thought I was going on a date with someone else."

You are free to start laughing now.

"What?" I asked with utter confusion. He then went on to explain how he kept describing the girl he really liked to our mutual friend, and this girl (whom he never knew the name of) just happened to have a similar appearance to myself. And our mutual friend, in her infinite wisdom, just assumed it to be me. I suddenly found myself to be outraged, why suddenly was I not good enough for him?! I wasted a whole evening trying to be nice to this boy while he kept running off with his friends, not to mention the whole time wondering what his brother was up to, and I'm not even good enough for him?! You can only imagine what I said next,

"Oh, that's okay."

When they do invent time machines, I will be sure to go back to this moment and slap my younger self for being so spineless. Eventually, though not soon enough, the movie finally came to an end. For the first time in my teenage years I couldn't be happier to see my mother take me away from this horrifying date. The whole ride home I relayed the nights events to her, while she tried to stifle her laughter and act sympathetic to her teenage daughter. I decided that night to never be put in that position again and have never allowed myself to be set up on a blind date since.