26 January 2007

"Creative" Blogging on a Friday

So we're "supposed" to be blogging on Friday afternoons at work if we have free time. You know, to express our creative outlets. Whatever that means. So Betsy and I decide to take a break from our monotonous NASCAR and healthcare financing projects, and we went downstairs to play pool. Then we decided we should make it "work related" and blog about it. Another co-worker, Dana, suggested that we do a joint blog... and we each take a turn to write a sentence for said blog. Here's what we came up with. Don't ask.


Rousing games of pool.... by Betsy and Molly (Molly starts off the blog. Everything goes downhill from there.)

I am better than Betsy. At pool, but nothing else. Except for everything else. We played pool today, which was interesting. I really enjoy it when account managers look at us like we’re slackers. They’re just jealous. Sometimes, if you want to win in pool, you have to hold your pool cue like a harpoon. This is a patented “Betsy-ism” that is going to take the nation by storm. Even that bitch Black Widow is going to use it.

The game started slowly. Turns out you’re not supposed to hit the 8 ball in first. Score, one game Betsy. Oh, make that two. Chad is a lesbian. But anyway, Molly can do a fancy “behind the back” pool move. She’s a freaking shark, I tell you. Two seconds into the third game, in goes the 8 ball, via Betsy. However, Molly does not know that Betsy was just trying to make her feel better about her two prior pathetic excuses for pool. Betsy has an STD. She can not spell Gonoreeya. Then comes the fourth pool game. Dave Winger walked by, and distracted Betsy and she lost! Molly gets distracted by the chocolate in his shirt pocket too.

Oh, probably at this time in the story we should describe that Betsy was always “regulars” and Molly was always “diets.” Or, Betsy was “the fattys” and Molly was “the super models.” This is actually “stripes” and “solids,” but those names are boring as hell so we made up our own so HA. And by HA, I mean screw you. Peace out, Jagiers. (Molly shakes her head in disbelief and confusion. Betsy can not believe Molly turned their blog into an internet role playing game.)





I just don't know.

22 January 2007

Life


I really like it when I pour just enough milk over my Life cereal, and there's almost no moo juice left when I finish.


Yep.

17 January 2007

The Goblet of Cleanliness

So I'm a pretty random person in general, and the same can certainly said about my home decorating taste. I went to the Topeka Goodwill - I'm not sure why "Topeka" was a necessary adjective, but let's just pretend that it's important - and I purchased a powder pink "goblet" to place my dish brush in. It's pretty silly, really. But as it's essential to give almost everything a name, my roommate and I have dubbed it the Goblet of Cleanliness. (We won't talk about the other things my we give names to.)

Ironically enough, however, next to the Goblet of Cleanliness is the Sink O' Disgust. No, we're not dirty people. Nine days ago - yes, I'm counting - our sink clogged while we were being adorable people by cooking dinner. Being the productive people we are, we called our apartment's front office the next day to request that it be fixed. We were told it would be fixed in 24-48 hours. Pretty sure it's been eight freaking days, and the sink smells worse than my freshman year gym class. (There was a kid who looked like a neanderthal in said class and I'm fairly certain he practiced the neanderthal ways.) I'm not kidding about this vile smell. I have to hold my nose when I'm getting anything out of the fridge, which is why I rarely go into the kitchen anymore. And this is a problem.... because I like food. A lot.

And I won't even go into my problem with vomiting due to bad smells. (It happens more often than it should.)

That is all.

10 January 2007

She made me do it!

No, she didn't make me love her. I already love her. But a co-worker (ok, she's a friend, too - at least by my standards) convinced me to begin blogging. What is blogging anyway? I mean, to be honest, it sounds dirty. Or maybe it just reminds me of poop... (log)? Turns out my thought processes are far from normal.

Anyway, I was thinking the other day, who the heck comes up with names for new models of cars? Honestly. The other day - see what I did there? I didn't know what day it was, so I just covered the bases with that phrase. I'm smart. - I saw a Ford Freestyle parked outside of my adorable apartment and thought to myself, "Really? That's all they could come up with? Why don't they just call it a Ford Frolic? Or a Ford Flamingly Stupid Name?" After this encounter, I decided to make it a point to notice other stupid car model names. Here are some of my favorites - and by "my favorites", I mean "the dumbest car names ever":
  • Ford Shelby - Why you gotta choose Shelby? Maybe it should be "Ford Shut the Hell Up."
  • Ford Taurus - We all know Aquarius is the superior astrological sign, here.
  • Chrysler Crossfire - Wasn't this a game I played when I was a wee lass? Yes. Yes it was:
  • http://www.farscapegames.co.uk/ishop/images/1003/crossfire.jpg
  • Kia Amanti - Are you sure you don't mean Kia Ashanti?
  • Toyota Scion - It sounds like Scoliosis. I'm not buying this car if it means I'm going to get scoliosis.

Done and done.