Sunday, April 27, 2008

What the Eff is That?

Okay, kids! Take a good look at the picture below:

Is it:

A. A male enhancement device

B. A breast pump for members of the IBTC

C. A goddamn $165 inhaler for your goddamn cat who is one of the goddamn one percent of cats with asthma, and requires a goddamn wrestling match twice a day to give her the goddamn thing.

If you said C, you're goddamn right!

If you didn't, you're a goddamn perv. Get your mind out of the gutter and clean up your act. Honestly.

Friday, April 18, 2008

Killing Time in the ER

Yesterday I had lofty plans to attend Dude Fest -- a celebration of the movie The Big Lebowski complete with trivia, a costume contest, a tribute band, and a screening of the movie. I was wicked psyched for weeks about this. It was to be at the Arlington Cinema and Drafthouse, which is a cool little venue in Northern Virginia where you can eat burgers and drink beers while you watch movies. I didn't have time to pull together a costume, but I was still pumped.

Then I got a tearful, panicked call from my dear friend Kyra, who was stranded at the hospital with possible appendicitis and needed someone to be on call to pick her up should she be discharged as her husband was without car. My friendship with Kra goes back to seventh grade home ec (I asked her if she liked Mystery Science Theater while we made sweatshirts; it was the only way I knew to make friends when I was 12. Not much has changed). We have been through puberty, proms, my best friend's funeral, bad relationships, and hasty weddings. Not only was I honor-bound to pick her up if she needed it, it was clear that someone should at least go to the hospital and keep her company. If I have to give up Dude Fest for somebody, it's her.

The poor kid wound up spending nine hours at Georgetown University Hospital, the last half of which I spent with her. Prior to my coming there she had nothing to do but stare at the IV drip, which probably inspired most of the hysteria I heard on the phone. So we amused each other until 12:30 in the freakin' morning, when we discovered that her ailment was not appendicitis, but something much more manageable that could be addressed with painkillers, rest, and presumably, a good day of watching telenovelas and Judge Judy.

One thing that amused the hell out of us was going through my text message outbox devoid of context. I haven't deleted many over the years, so it made for some fun reading. Here's a little sample:

"We have vomit."

"I got an iguana."

"I am by the cake. -- robyn"

"Heads up. Mom found our myspace pages."

"I've got nothing to hide but you might want to warn dawg."

"Is it brazil independence day? There are a lot of characters on the train."

"Bulletin. The rabbit just pissed in my face. That is all."



"Girls beer/ marks tits/3208 17th"

"I have a cake and shake. It's awesome."

"What is with all the fucking pigeons on the field?"

"Everclear & beer pong = bad news"

"Im at iota watching the guy whose song is on your myspace. xo"

"This game just made me throw up in my mouth a little."

"Dude. I have the maypole dance song in my head."

Like I said, it was rough going in that ER trying to find something to entertain us. I challenge you to come up with something better.