Tag Archives: neil diamond

The Universe Is Allergic To Me Turning 29

Posted on by
53

Every year, without fail, June 25th comes creeping in to steal away another year of my life and inconspicuously plant two more gray hairs that I won’t discover until I’ve just eaten an entire Little Caesars pizza at 10am and I go into the bathroom and notice them under the florescent lights.  Oh, just me? Although, a quick smile was brought to my face when I received this present from one of my favorite bloggers on all of THE INTERNETS, Bea Schooled – she’s a brilliant photoshopping goddess. This could quite possibly be the most disgusting combination of things the world has ever known. Well done. And thank you from the bottom of my blackened heart for all the warm birthday wishes. They made me want to vomit.

Remember that introspective birthday post that you’ve been expecting? Yea, that can’t happen now because did you see that picture I just posted? There’s no way I can concentrate when Neil Diamond is in the room.

Last weekend, it occurred to me that sometime soon I might be approaching 30. It’s just a hunch I had. And I decided I need to do something about that. Like, stop time. Or, jump off a cliff. But then, I thought of all the whining you’d miss out on if I did that and I set myself straight. Panties unbundled, please.

So we’re starting with my birthday eve – 6.24.11. I got together with my favorite girls and they knew exactly how to lift my spirits.

Homemade tiramisu.

Naked Goodwill barbies. It’s really tough to find the brunettes… I have such quality friends.

Then, the worst day of the year: my birthday… 6.25.11. My friend Jo got us free tix to see Lee DeWyze, who was playing in an outdoor venue downtown. I’ll be honest, I hadn’t heard his stuff before although I knew he’d won American Idol. I must say, he was rather good. Almost as good as the nachos.

Then, we met up with some of our other girls and got my favorite drink: Key Lime Martini.

At 11pm, we all sat in our cars in the parking lot determining whether or not we were too tired to go to another place. Then we got depressed because we were actually having that conversation. When the police finally broke us up cus we were blocking the entire gas station entrance, we went to another bar, where we scrunched on a couch outside and accidentally struck up a conversation with the keyboardist and drummer who were touring with Mr. Lee DeWyze.

It all started cus the keyboard player sneezed and I yelled, “Are you allergic to this town? Cus we definitely are.”

Then, they gave us some drum lessons on the street. And yes, I informed them I blog a lot and there would be a good chance they’d end up on there.

The evening ended at 6am. They were a blast and it was a good night. As far as birthdays go.

Oh, and Universe, you really outdid yourself this year with the hard drive crash with non-recoverable data, one grandma in the hospital, one grandpa dying and the ant infestation! Props to you!

Wondering where I went? I have returned to blogging over at my whole foods blog Celery and the City, where we live so clean it’s like your insides took a bath.

Why I Hate Women: Part 6 of 7,893

Posted on by
72

[ In case you missed the first installment, please check out Why I Hate Women: Let Me Count The Ways and then because I got equal amounts of hater/lover responses to said blog, please check out my rebuttal entitled: Dear Haters, Why Do You Love Me So Much? ]

I guess hate is very strong word. When I think of hatred, only a few things come to mind: Nazi Germany, dead beat dads, Frasier, the DaVinci Code, and the unspoken singer which I reference on a consistent basis.  So I suppose I could classify my disposition toward women as mere frustration.  But I’m far too Italian and dramatic to use the word “frustrated.”  Pffft.

Recently, I noticed that my blog Why I Hate Women: Let Me Count The Ways, continues to get alot of attention. I often wonder, does this come as a surprise to you guys? I mean, after having dealt with women your whole lives, is it an overwhelming shock that some of us take issue with our own gender? Speaking of my own gender, blog comments such as this one, from “anonymous,” lead me to believe that some women might be taking my witty banter personally: 

“So you all comment on a website that is sexist and idiotic and down right harsh to women, you know how many women out there think that men are soo much worse than women but DON’T write stupid blogs about it! My god, go get a life and delete the blog it makes you sound like your childish!! shame on you.”

I use this comment as an illustration because it further proves my point on why I hate women. You can’t take a freaking joke? Holy mother of insanity.  Really?

I feel that some of you think I hate women for the sole purpose of sabotaging my own gender.  I assure you this isn’t so.  Thus, I’ve decided to continue what will turn out to be the second installment of a 7,893 part series on why I dislike women.  All of this isn’t to say men don’t have their issues. We all do. It just so happens, my chemical makeup is designed to more easily deal with their craziness than that of the female kind.  Our brand of crazy is particularly alarming. To further demonstrate what I’m talking about, there is currently a group of women reading this, who are placing me in one of the following categories:

1. I’m starved for male attention.

2. I’m a slut [I’m not sure how this conclusion is drawn, but just trust me, it will be]

3. I have a weird nose and/or smile [or some other cut-down based on my physical appearance]

In all actuality, I love normal women. And if using the word “heart,” didn’t send my body into convulsions, I might even say that I heart them. And by normal, I mean, women who are capable of the following:

1. Getting over it. Contrary to popular belief, there is no prize at stake, champ.  This isn’t the Grudge Olympics.  Or the Olympics of many things you can bring up during an argument that have nothing to do with what we’re actually arguing about.

2. Not making everything into a competition. Is it possible to be happy for another woman’s success?  And if a guy flirts with your friend rather than you, it doesn’t mean she’s better than you.  It just means he wants to flirt with her.  The next guy will want to flirt with you. And probably the next guy too. Stop taking it so personally, Spazzy McInsecureAlot.

3. Not forsaking their friends when they become obsessed with a relationship. Guess who’s gonna be there when you’re crying elephant tears and eating yourself ugly in about 6 months, which is precisely how long it will take you to figure out you made a tragic mistake?  Not Jerky McCheatsAlotandIToldYouHeWould, I’ll tell you that much.

blunt-joFolks, I’ve only scratched the surface.  As always, I welcome your thoughts, but only if they are concurrent with mine.

Speaking of women that I love, check out my latest photography post, with pictures of this hottie.

<——-


7 Reasons to Despise Neil Diamond

Posted on by
9

Why 7?  Because it’s God’s number.

1.  The biggest, bushiest, salt -and -peppery sideburns of all time.  That goes without saying.

2.  Songs like Cracklin’ Rosie,  Really?  What does that even mean.  Cracklin oat-bran?  Cracklin fire? … or perhaps you meant to say cracklin whip?   Cus you’re a pervert?

3.  He’s a pervert.  Not only did he sign with Bang Records, but he made a song that contains the words, “girl, you’ll be a woman soon… and soon i’ll be your man.” Well gee Neil, lets try and  wait for the poor girl to stop running from the boys because they have “cooties” before attempting anything that could get you 3-5.

4. Gravely voice. beaty eyes.   That was a two-for-one special.

5.  He breeds abnormal fans.

6. Clearly, he has an anger management problem – possibly suffers from permanent insanity or syphilis.  Or both.

7.  He is a constant embarrassment to society, and a mockery is to be made of him. Only then, might he stop.

“I’m a Believer” in that!