May 31st, 2010
While avoiding writing today's blog entry, I was perusing Facebook only to find the majority of my virtual community posting status updates that read, Happy Memorial Day. Exclamation Point.
I have mixed feelings about revealing the following. But I will. Sigh...
1) I was not 100% certain as to the exact meaning of Memorial Day. Until last night.
2) Last night, I was at a party at a friend of a friend's apartment above a funeral parlor.
3) At the funeral parlor soiree, last night, a guy explained to me the details of this Memorial Day. He was Israeli.
I shall share my learnings:
You: Jax, tell me, what exactly is Memorial Day?
Me: Well You, Memorial Day, previously designated Decoration Day, is a Federal holiday that was inaugurated in 1868 by General John A. Logan for the purpose of decorating the graves of Civil War veterans. Over time, of course, the observance incorporated the dead of both sides, renamed Memorial Day and encompassed all of this country's fallen in subsequent wars.
You: Thanks Jax. You really taught me a lot. But tell me about this General John A. Logan. Sounds familiar...but I missed a lot of my American History class in high school because I was getting high behind a shed in the teacher's parking lot.
Me: Who wasn't? John Alexander Logan had an impressive resume that would be sure to make him employable even in today's struggling economy: American soldier, political leader, served in the Mexican-American War, General in the Union Army in the American Civil War, served as the state of Illinois as a Senator, candidate for Vice President of the United States and proficient in Microsoft Office. Logan is one of only three individuals mentioned by name in the Illinois state song:
"On the record of thy years,
Abraham Lincoln's name appears,
Grant and Logan, and our tears,
Illinois, Illinois,
Grant and Logan, and our tears,
Illinois."
You: Jax, you have a lovely falsetto. So, what should I do today, Memorial Day?
Me: Good question, You. Many people observe this holiday by visiting cemeteries, memorials or flying the flag of the United States at half-staff. You can also commemorate by having a BBQ and reflect on the fallen by preparing meat with a marinade, basting sauce, or if you're feeling particularly patriotic, a spicy rub. .
You: Mmmm...I love rubs. Thanks Jax. You are so wise and awesome. I look forward to when you explain the real meaning behind Bring Your Daughter to Work Day.
Monday, May 31, 2010
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Day 295 - Sleep Singer? Guilty as Charged
May 30th, 2010
I received an interesting piece of information this morning. According to my boyfriend, I was...oh you'll like this one... singing in my sleep. Joyfully.
This was actually pleasant news because I expected my thoughts (or songs) during my state of suspended sensory and motor activity would lead towards my darker subconscious memories or thought processes that I choose(by choice or involuntarily) not to promote during my waking hours. According to the guy, my melodic tones were rather jubilant, delightful and dare I say, whimsical.
I never understood the mass appeal of the show "Glee"...but maybe in my sleep...I do. Note to self.
Since I became cognizant that I was a slumber singer, I've been humming the Romantics' 1983 sensation, "Talking in Your Sleep". I'm now convinced that the range of sleep vocalization is far and wide and this billboard hit need be subject to a much deeper interpretation.
Let's dissect. Shall we?
"Talking in Your Sleep" - The Romantics
When you close your eyes and go to sleep
- Because you're drunk on well liquored Appletinis.
And it's down to the sound of a heartbeat
- A whale's heartbeat from the sleep sound machine that you bought on QVC for $59.95. $300 in shipping.
I can hear the things that you're dreaming about
- Animated kittens. And gourd vegetables. Really?
When you open up your heart and the truth comes out
- You spent your formative years being raised by orangutans. I didn't see that coming.
CHORUS:
You tell me that you want me
- And you want my douche investment banker friend, Brad
You tell me that you need me
- And you need Kareem Abdul-Jabbar? So you are down with the brown. Interesting.
You tell me that you love me
- You love my giant...W-2's.
And I know that I'm right
- Because I'm Type A and always right.
Cuz I hear it in the night
- Told by M. Night Shyamalan
I hear the secrets that you keep
- You can't fool me by talking in Dutch
When you're talking in your sleep
- I bring in a translator, Mbwana, when you break into Swahili
When I hold you in my arms at night
-Yes, I hold you in my prosthetic arms. I imagine that must be creepy for you. Freak mechanical bull accident.
Don't you know you're sleeping in a spotlight
- Literally...a spotlight. My friend is the lighting guy from "The Lion King". He hooks me up
And all your dreams that you keep inside
- He also is my go to when I need giant puppets and 7 minutes in heaven with Elton John.
You're telling me the secrets that you just can't hide
- Baby, tell me anything in your sleep. It's cool because it makes me less self conscious should I reveal that I lie about recycling.
REPEAT CHORUS
'Night night
I received an interesting piece of information this morning. According to my boyfriend, I was...oh you'll like this one... singing in my sleep. Joyfully.
This was actually pleasant news because I expected my thoughts (or songs) during my state of suspended sensory and motor activity would lead towards my darker subconscious memories or thought processes that I choose(by choice or involuntarily) not to promote during my waking hours. According to the guy, my melodic tones were rather jubilant, delightful and dare I say, whimsical.
I never understood the mass appeal of the show "Glee"...but maybe in my sleep...I do. Note to self.
Since I became cognizant that I was a slumber singer, I've been humming the Romantics' 1983 sensation, "Talking in Your Sleep". I'm now convinced that the range of sleep vocalization is far and wide and this billboard hit need be subject to a much deeper interpretation.
Let's dissect. Shall we?
"Talking in Your Sleep" - The Romantics
When you close your eyes and go to sleep
- Because you're drunk on well liquored Appletinis.
And it's down to the sound of a heartbeat
- A whale's heartbeat from the sleep sound machine that you bought on QVC for $59.95. $300 in shipping.
I can hear the things that you're dreaming about
- Animated kittens. And gourd vegetables. Really?
When you open up your heart and the truth comes out
- You spent your formative years being raised by orangutans. I didn't see that coming.
CHORUS:
You tell me that you want me
- And you want my douche investment banker friend, Brad
You tell me that you need me
- And you need Kareem Abdul-Jabbar? So you are down with the brown. Interesting.
You tell me that you love me
- You love my giant...W-2's.
And I know that I'm right
- Because I'm Type A and always right.
Cuz I hear it in the night
- Told by M. Night Shyamalan
I hear the secrets that you keep
- You can't fool me by talking in Dutch
When you're talking in your sleep
- I bring in a translator, Mbwana, when you break into Swahili
When I hold you in my arms at night
-Yes, I hold you in my prosthetic arms. I imagine that must be creepy for you. Freak mechanical bull accident.
Don't you know you're sleeping in a spotlight
- Literally...a spotlight. My friend is the lighting guy from "The Lion King". He hooks me up
And all your dreams that you keep inside
- He also is my go to when I need giant puppets and 7 minutes in heaven with Elton John.
You're telling me the secrets that you just can't hide
- Baby, tell me anything in your sleep. It's cool because it makes me less self conscious should I reveal that I lie about recycling.
REPEAT CHORUS
'Night night
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Day 294 - Stay Strong Todd Bridges
May 29th, 2010
Not only was "Diff'rent Strokes" the first of a series of sitcoms that I would watch on Saturday nights in the early 80's, it also pioneered the "I smell Emmy" premise that its evidently perfectly normal for wealthy Caucasians to adopt small statured African American boys. You know who you are Emmanuel Lewis.
Gary Coleman has crossed over to join the scores of child stars to make campy laugh-track-esque sitcoms in the sky. I expressed my take on this gone too soon child actor fad/fiasco on day 215's entry, "Minus a Corey" http://jacquelinekabat.blogspot.com/2010/03/day-215-minus-corey.html
Tragedy is so prevalent among the cast of "Diff'rent Strokes" that some have speculated that the sitcom could have been cursed. Does this mean that Phillip Drummond(Conrad Bain, now 87) and the original maid, Mrs Garrett( Charlotte Rae, now 84) should expect their demise to be the result of that pesky death by natural causes curse?
Mr. Coleman played the show's darling, Arnold Jackson, and became synonymous with the catch phrase "What'choo talkin' 'bout, Willis?"
Todd Bridges(who played this misunderstood Willis) has had his own post "Diff'rent Strokes" life challenges. Some cocaine...some altercations...maybe he murdered a guy. But...of the three children residing in Mr. Drummond's penthouse, Bridges has now raised the bar high by simply being alive. He's 45.
He's doing something right(by having a heartbeat) and the world needs to know his wisdom, secrets and skin care rituals. I spoke to Bridges on the Harlem basketball court where Mr. Drummond pulled up in his limo, picked up(kidnapped) and took Arnold and Willis to his deluxe apartment in the sky.
My interview will be published in an online pamphlet, "What Was Willis talking About?" You can find it...online.
I don't want to give too much away from my sure to be bestselling pamphlet, but if you finally want to know who shot Kennedy, the cure for the common cold and why there really had to be a disturbingly creepy "very special episode" that guest starred Gordon Jump as a pedophile bicycle-shop owner, who attempted to sexually molest Arnold and Dudley....
...then let Willis tell you what he was talking about.
Not only was "Diff'rent Strokes" the first of a series of sitcoms that I would watch on Saturday nights in the early 80's, it also pioneered the "I smell Emmy" premise that its evidently perfectly normal for wealthy Caucasians to adopt small statured African American boys. You know who you are Emmanuel Lewis.
Gary Coleman has crossed over to join the scores of child stars to make campy laugh-track-esque sitcoms in the sky. I expressed my take on this gone too soon child actor fad/fiasco on day 215's entry, "Minus a Corey" http://jacquelinekabat.blogspot.com/2010/03/day-215-minus-corey.html
Tragedy is so prevalent among the cast of "Diff'rent Strokes" that some have speculated that the sitcom could have been cursed. Does this mean that Phillip Drummond(Conrad Bain, now 87) and the original maid, Mrs Garrett( Charlotte Rae, now 84) should expect their demise to be the result of that pesky death by natural causes curse?
Mr. Coleman played the show's darling, Arnold Jackson, and became synonymous with the catch phrase "What'choo talkin' 'bout, Willis?"
Todd Bridges(who played this misunderstood Willis) has had his own post "Diff'rent Strokes" life challenges. Some cocaine...some altercations...maybe he murdered a guy. But...of the three children residing in Mr. Drummond's penthouse, Bridges has now raised the bar high by simply being alive. He's 45.
He's doing something right(by having a heartbeat) and the world needs to know his wisdom, secrets and skin care rituals. I spoke to Bridges on the Harlem basketball court where Mr. Drummond pulled up in his limo, picked up(kidnapped) and took Arnold and Willis to his deluxe apartment in the sky.
My interview will be published in an online pamphlet, "What Was Willis talking About?" You can find it...online.
I don't want to give too much away from my sure to be bestselling pamphlet, but if you finally want to know who shot Kennedy, the cure for the common cold and why there really had to be a disturbingly creepy "very special episode" that guest starred Gordon Jump as a pedophile bicycle-shop owner, who attempted to sexually molest Arnold and Dudley....
...then let Willis tell you what he was talking about.
Friday, May 28, 2010
Day 293 - Lowbrow Memoirs
May 28th, 2010
I'd like to pride myself in creating comedy that has a cerebral element. But in my effort to be truthful to my readers(and myself), it's only fair that I admit of my time when my humor skewed toward the spectrum of the lowbrow.
I was young. I needed the money. But didn't get any.
Luckily, my (real or perceived) matured wisdom has steered me away from material which conjures up the following:
- lacking in refinement
- uncultivated taste
- devoid of any intelligence
- sub-standard
- appealing to the absolute lowest common denominator
I've created my 365 day blog entry challenge as a home for ALL my work to live. Some place to call its own.
I'm a bit shamed to show these video vignettes to you...but I will step out of my comfort zone and invite you to view some footage of a time when I would have benefited from striving for material that wouldn't have threatened my sense of dignity.
Oh what a journey it's been.
On day 88, I revealed the following, " In 1999, Gia McGinley and I wrote a sketch called "Gynecology by Candlelight". The premise was based around Dr. Harold Finger, a gynecologist who uses a soothing touch and a gentle probe to give his patients the attention that they deserve. http://www.funnyordie.com/videos/2479/gynecology-by-candlelight-from-rash-behaviour
Don't judge me. To my face.
On day 69, my blog entry was my 2003 sketch, "Die Bitch Die!". This "gem" was a spin on (that "new" reality show)"American Idol". However, in my twisted version, the winner got to be put to death...on live television. The video has surfaced. Sigh... http://vids.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.individual&videoid=12769899
I beg. Don't scold. FYI, you should be aware that the televised sketch comedy troupe, "The Whitest Kids You Know", just aired something so similar to my seven year old sketch that I should take the high road and let go of my high octane frustration. I have not.
I'd like to pride myself in creating comedy that has a cerebral element. But in my effort to be truthful to my readers(and myself), it's only fair that I admit of my time when my humor skewed toward the spectrum of the lowbrow.
I was young. I needed the money. But didn't get any.
Luckily, my (real or perceived) matured wisdom has steered me away from material which conjures up the following:
- lacking in refinement
- uncultivated taste
- devoid of any intelligence
- sub-standard
- appealing to the absolute lowest common denominator
I've created my 365 day blog entry challenge as a home for ALL my work to live. Some place to call its own.
I'm a bit shamed to show these video vignettes to you...but I will step out of my comfort zone and invite you to view some footage of a time when I would have benefited from striving for material that wouldn't have threatened my sense of dignity.
Oh what a journey it's been.
On day 88, I revealed the following, " In 1999, Gia McGinley and I wrote a sketch called "Gynecology by Candlelight". The premise was based around Dr. Harold Finger, a gynecologist who uses a soothing touch and a gentle probe to give his patients the attention that they deserve. http://www.funnyordie.com/videos/2479/gynecology-by-candlelight-from-rash-behaviour
Don't judge me. To my face.
On day 69, my blog entry was my 2003 sketch, "Die Bitch Die!". This "gem" was a spin on (that "new" reality show)"American Idol". However, in my twisted version, the winner got to be put to death...on live television. The video has surfaced. Sigh... http://vids.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.individual&videoid=12769899
I beg. Don't scold. FYI, you should be aware that the televised sketch comedy troupe, "The Whitest Kids You Know", just aired something so similar to my seven year old sketch that I should take the high road and let go of my high octane frustration. I have not.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Day 292 - Be the Man Your Mom Is
May 27th, 2010
I was perusing Facebook status updates while procrastinating my task of generating a topic for day 292 of my " 365 Day Blog Entry Challenge of Cosmic Angst Through the Eyes of Comedic Insight".
Like a gift from a divine virtual entity, the status's started singing to me (in the form of Phil Collins, "Against All Odds"). Here's the line I heard. Repetitively. "So take a look at me now, well there's just an empty space.."
I obviously interpreted their mention of an empty space as a direct metaphor to today's blog entry. Or lack thereof. These updates needed me to serve as a conduit that would secure their riveting messages into the blogosphere. Forever.
I obliged and below have explained why the following grabbed me the most. In the heart area:
"I would prefer to be at the beach in lieu of the office..."
- Using the word lieu gives a ( otherwise simplistic update) mystique and let's readers know that you have a strong command for complex words real good.
"'Sad, so sad, why cant we talk it over, always seems to me, that sorry seems to be the hardest word'....Elton John". Then this status updater adds, "Something for us married guys who sometimes shoot our mouths off and then hide behind our pride."
- Elton John lyrics really are the best way to make a public apology. Closely followed by Chicago's "Hard to Say I'm Sorry" and an Enya instrumental.
"This weekend Friday and Saturday, Savannah Georgia at the Hyatt Regency 8 pm, you in the area?"
- If I didn't know that this guy was a comedian, I would high five him for having the bravado to invite his entire online social network to his hotel to explore his "area".
"Sex In The City...tomorrow at 7:30pm Hollywood 20!! With me, Nicole and her friends from work, Veronica....anyone else want to join us??"
- No. No I would not. That is all.
"I'm totally addicted to the iPhone app "Second Opinion".
- As a user of a Blackberry, the Betamax of mobile internet devices, I just assume your second option would be in Spanish.
"Sarcasm (n.)-the ability to insult idiots without them realizing it"
- I find that people who are always sarcastic lack integrity and will never be the man their mother is.
"Nothing like a tantrum first thing in the morning..."
- Morning sex first thing in the morning. Nothing like that either.
"I'm not happy about being sick..."
- If you're home sulking in your illness, be grateful that mid afternoon is the time of day when there are an excessive amount of commercials that will answer your ongoing question, "Will there ever be a fiber-heavy yogurt that would keep middle aged women's digestive tracks in order?"
"Fun last night, but now...........I got nothing...."
- Stay strong young soldier. You got me. Actually, I'm waiting for the cable guy(he gave me a 467 hour window) and my day book tells me I'm booked with mindless endeavors through 2012. Then..I'm all yours.
"It's almost lunch O'clock. The 5 minute meeting I am in is taking 37 hours."
- 37 hours! Whaaaat? We all know there are only 25.3(repeating) hours in a day. I can explain this to you more later... at masturbate O'clock.
I was perusing Facebook status updates while procrastinating my task of generating a topic for day 292 of my " 365 Day Blog Entry Challenge of Cosmic Angst Through the Eyes of Comedic Insight".
Like a gift from a divine virtual entity, the status's started singing to me (in the form of Phil Collins, "Against All Odds"). Here's the line I heard. Repetitively. "So take a look at me now, well there's just an empty space.."
I obviously interpreted their mention of an empty space as a direct metaphor to today's blog entry. Or lack thereof. These updates needed me to serve as a conduit that would secure their riveting messages into the blogosphere. Forever.
I obliged and below have explained why the following grabbed me the most. In the heart area:
"I would prefer to be at the beach in lieu of the office..."
- Using the word lieu gives a ( otherwise simplistic update) mystique and let's readers know that you have a strong command for complex words real good.
"'Sad, so sad, why cant we talk it over, always seems to me, that sorry seems to be the hardest word'....Elton John". Then this status updater adds, "Something for us married guys who sometimes shoot our mouths off and then hide behind our pride."
- Elton John lyrics really are the best way to make a public apology. Closely followed by Chicago's "Hard to Say I'm Sorry" and an Enya instrumental.
"This weekend Friday and Saturday, Savannah Georgia at the Hyatt Regency 8 pm, you in the area?"
- If I didn't know that this guy was a comedian, I would high five him for having the bravado to invite his entire online social network to his hotel to explore his "area".
"Sex In The City...tomorrow at 7:30pm Hollywood 20!! With me, Nicole and her friends from work, Veronica....anyone else want to join us??"
- No. No I would not. That is all.
"I'm totally addicted to the iPhone app "Second Opinion".
- As a user of a Blackberry, the Betamax of mobile internet devices, I just assume your second option would be in Spanish.
"Sarcasm (n.)-the ability to insult idiots without them realizing it"
- I find that people who are always sarcastic lack integrity and will never be the man their mother is.
"Nothing like a tantrum first thing in the morning..."
- Morning sex first thing in the morning. Nothing like that either.
"I'm not happy about being sick..."
- If you're home sulking in your illness, be grateful that mid afternoon is the time of day when there are an excessive amount of commercials that will answer your ongoing question, "Will there ever be a fiber-heavy yogurt that would keep middle aged women's digestive tracks in order?"
"Fun last night, but now...........I got nothing...."
- Stay strong young soldier. You got me. Actually, I'm waiting for the cable guy(he gave me a 467 hour window) and my day book tells me I'm booked with mindless endeavors through 2012. Then..I'm all yours.
"It's almost lunch O'clock. The 5 minute meeting I am in is taking 37 hours."
- 37 hours! Whaaaat? We all know there are only 25.3(repeating) hours in a day. I can explain this to you more later... at masturbate O'clock.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Day 291 - Waldo. You Slut
May 26th, 2010
Today I was teaching a corporate comedy improv workshop at a space called Meet at the Apartment, a highly stylized open loft in Soho that is "fully engineered for creative thought to flourish." This trendy venue is equipped with leather couches, interesting art and unique nooks in great quantity. However, it was the ornate wallpaper(stenciled in fluorescent pink) that caught my client's attention. She remarked that within the pink lines were drawings of naked women. I looked at the wall, laughed and made some remark about how risque that was.
The truth is, readers, I couldn't make out the nude images that she was referring to. Admittedly, I have many strengths but being able to decipher images out of any type of jumbled blur is not one of them. When I get pregnant and see the sonogram, I am certain that I will utilize my mediocre acting skills and have some teary over the top reaction as I squeeze my husband's hand in blissful joy and pretend to see a developing mammal in a diagnostic medical image.
Perhaps my brain just stopped trying to find the obvious after Waldo...of "Where's Waldo" fame. And annoyance. I never had any interest in employing my brain to look for someone who was so committed to hiding from me. My instincts tell me that I am not alone in having little to no interest in the challenge of finding a hidden character in a red-and-white striped shirt, bobble hat and fashion backwards glasses.
Waldo, the jig is up. I know where you've been. I hired private animated investigators (in the form of my imaginary handlers in my head) and they revealed to me very telling glossy 8 X 10 black and white pictures that will tarnish your hard to find image.
Let me just say 2 things...Waldo...
- You should be ashamed
- You are a dick
Waldo has been spotted at the following:
- He was found at a Phish concert in Coventry, Vermont....dropping acid with a moose, an antelope and a reindeer.
- To make extra cash, Waldo was discovered on a suburban Pennsylvania street corner. Miming. For blind people.
- He was captured working on his 365 day blog entry challenge, "The Benefits of Littering".
- It turns out that Waldo has become a biker dick and finding great pleasure in running over kittens. (For more info on bike dick-ery...refer to day 285's entry, "Biker Dick. And Proud" - http://jacquelinekabat.blogspot.com/2010/05/day-285-biker-dick-and-proud.html_)
- He been judging wet t-shirt contests in Myrtle Beach.
- He's locked up in a high security prison for stabbing Flat Stanley. With a spork. (Who is Flat Stanley? Refer to Day 102 - http://jacquelinekabat.blogspot.com/2009/11/day-102-flat-stanley.html)
- At this very moment, Waldo is in surgery getting an animated penis enlargement.
Today I was teaching a corporate comedy improv workshop at a space called Meet at the Apartment, a highly stylized open loft in Soho that is "fully engineered for creative thought to flourish." This trendy venue is equipped with leather couches, interesting art and unique nooks in great quantity. However, it was the ornate wallpaper(stenciled in fluorescent pink) that caught my client's attention. She remarked that within the pink lines were drawings of naked women. I looked at the wall, laughed and made some remark about how risque that was.
The truth is, readers, I couldn't make out the nude images that she was referring to. Admittedly, I have many strengths but being able to decipher images out of any type of jumbled blur is not one of them. When I get pregnant and see the sonogram, I am certain that I will utilize my mediocre acting skills and have some teary over the top reaction as I squeeze my husband's hand in blissful joy and pretend to see a developing mammal in a diagnostic medical image.
Perhaps my brain just stopped trying to find the obvious after Waldo...of "Where's Waldo" fame. And annoyance. I never had any interest in employing my brain to look for someone who was so committed to hiding from me. My instincts tell me that I am not alone in having little to no interest in the challenge of finding a hidden character in a red-and-white striped shirt, bobble hat and fashion backwards glasses.
Waldo, the jig is up. I know where you've been. I hired private animated investigators (in the form of my imaginary handlers in my head) and they revealed to me very telling glossy 8 X 10 black and white pictures that will tarnish your hard to find image.
Let me just say 2 things...Waldo...
- You should be ashamed
- You are a dick
Waldo has been spotted at the following:
- He was found at a Phish concert in Coventry, Vermont....dropping acid with a moose, an antelope and a reindeer.
- To make extra cash, Waldo was discovered on a suburban Pennsylvania street corner. Miming. For blind people.
- He was captured working on his 365 day blog entry challenge, "The Benefits of Littering".
- It turns out that Waldo has become a biker dick and finding great pleasure in running over kittens. (For more info on bike dick-ery...refer to day 285's entry, "Biker Dick. And Proud" - http://jacquelinekabat.blogspot.com/2010/05/day-285-biker-dick-and-proud.html_)
- He been judging wet t-shirt contests in Myrtle Beach.
- He's locked up in a high security prison for stabbing Flat Stanley. With a spork. (Who is Flat Stanley? Refer to Day 102 - http://jacquelinekabat.blogspot.com/2009/11/day-102-flat-stanley.html)
- At this very moment, Waldo is in surgery getting an animated penis enlargement.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Day 290 - I Am Me. Now Give Me Your Money
May 25th, 2010
Last night I was at my preferred neighborhood French bistro, drinking a Stoli cranberry and enjoying the live soulful blues music of Lipbone Redding. Between sets, he was gallivanting around the restaurant seeing if patrons would be kind enough to contribute some American currency into his bucket. His asking style was like his music...efficient, gentle and personable. Three attributes(that, if I may, blow smoke up my ass) I feel that I possess.
Can I dare to dream that my lifetime will offer multiple opportunities for me to collect money for just being me? This ambitious endeavor will not be in the spirit of being a pauper or feeling worthy of a monetary reward after one of my shows.
In what is turning out to be the cockiest entry of my 365 day blog entry challenge, I commit to be presumptuous enough to assume that you will be inspired to give me money because I am, quite simply, fun to hang out with.
I imagine my quest would become a reality in the following scenarios:
- We meet up in a pool that is particularly chilly, I pee next to you in the water. Now you are warm...and grateful. You give me money.
- There is a long line at an unairconditioned ATM vestibule. I get naked. You pay me for my goods(not my services.)
- You and I decide to go to the cineplex and I talk at an excessive decibel level. The whole time. You come to terms that you are lucky to be with someone who provided such audible (even if wildly inaccurate) commentary. Who's appreciative? You are. Ching ching.
- I'm at confessional and the priest begs me (with a certified check) to shut up. Clearly because he is overwhelmed by my awesomeness.
- We are sitting next to each other on a plane. I go on incessantly about my lifelong battle with a series of contagious rashes. You feel blessed to be sitting next to such an open, honest and rash-alicious woman. You slip me a 20. In my cleavage.
- As luck would have it, I'm expelling bodily fluid next to you at a urinal. You are deeply touched that I taught you that women can, yes indeed, pee standing up. You insist on giving me your pension.
- You so enjoyed spending time with me in this blog for the last 3 minutes ( 5 if you're a slow reader.) At this very moment you're thinking, " If I had a nickel for everytime I wanted to pay Jax...I would have 5 cents."to pay Jax...I would have 5 cents."
Last night I was at my preferred neighborhood French bistro, drinking a Stoli cranberry and enjoying the live soulful blues music of Lipbone Redding. Between sets, he was gallivanting around the restaurant seeing if patrons would be kind enough to contribute some American currency into his bucket. His asking style was like his music...efficient, gentle and personable. Three attributes(that, if I may, blow smoke up my ass) I feel that I possess.
Can I dare to dream that my lifetime will offer multiple opportunities for me to collect money for just being me? This ambitious endeavor will not be in the spirit of being a pauper or feeling worthy of a monetary reward after one of my shows.
In what is turning out to be the cockiest entry of my 365 day blog entry challenge, I commit to be presumptuous enough to assume that you will be inspired to give me money because I am, quite simply, fun to hang out with.
I imagine my quest would become a reality in the following scenarios:
- We meet up in a pool that is particularly chilly, I pee next to you in the water. Now you are warm...and grateful. You give me money.
- There is a long line at an unairconditioned ATM vestibule. I get naked. You pay me for my goods(not my services.)
- You and I decide to go to the cineplex and I talk at an excessive decibel level. The whole time. You come to terms that you are lucky to be with someone who provided such audible (even if wildly inaccurate) commentary. Who's appreciative? You are. Ching ching.
- I'm at confessional and the priest begs me (with a certified check) to shut up. Clearly because he is overwhelmed by my awesomeness.
- We are sitting next to each other on a plane. I go on incessantly about my lifelong battle with a series of contagious rashes. You feel blessed to be sitting next to such an open, honest and rash-alicious woman. You slip me a 20. In my cleavage.
- As luck would have it, I'm expelling bodily fluid next to you at a urinal. You are deeply touched that I taught you that women can, yes indeed, pee standing up. You insist on giving me your pension.
- You so enjoyed spending time with me in this blog for the last 3 minutes ( 5 if you're a slow reader.) At this very moment you're thinking, " If I had a nickel for everytime I wanted to pay Jax...I would have 5 cents."to pay Jax...I would have 5 cents."
Monday, May 24, 2010
Day 289 - LOST. Good Hustle
May 24th, 2010
LOST. Series finale last night. Good night sweet prince.
This entry is not dedicated to hypothesizing the end of our time with those on (and off) a mysterious island. Although I will miss my imaginary friends. Hard. I'm cognizant that there were two opposing groups. Those of us who were obsessed with LOST and those of you that thought we were idiots for wasting six years(when we could have been expanding our minds by way of Celebrity Apprentice". )My intention with this 365 day blog entry challenge is to write for the people so I will attempt to reflect more universally.
For those of you who were not watching the last six years, one of the questions most fans inquired about was what happened to Walt, the only "child" on the island. From a puberty perspective, it was best to write this character off in a show involving time travel, flash backs, flash forwards and sex. In cages. However, I was rooting for a future sequence that would bring Walt back in the form of Michael Clarke Duncan.
The bittersweet finale delivered the answers to the big questions but disturbed some fans for choosing not to revisit the small ones. Perhaps viewers should (quite simply) get over it and have peace of mind without needing to be presented with a PowerPoint presentation (with a bad ass lightsaber-esque pointer) spelling out every detail of a series that totaled 121(and a half) hours.
LET GO.
Get it? Another Lost central theme. Yay me.
The show's tortured(yet ultimately redeemed) characters loved each other, tested each other and all remained sultrily steamin' hot without showers, hair product and Russian waxers. Together.
Whether we're a a faith man, a science man or an ass man...I would hope that we all have the capacity to find peace by the simple notion of not having to go through this journey alone.
I am certainly not a philosopher(for fear that my subpar equilibrium would result in my falling off a soapbox) but (gently) suggest that we not be a slave to all that is pragmatic, embrace faith and allow people to lift us from a place(in this existence. Or any existence) that is no longer serving us.
Namaste
LOST. Series finale last night. Good night sweet prince.
This entry is not dedicated to hypothesizing the end of our time with those on (and off) a mysterious island. Although I will miss my imaginary friends. Hard. I'm cognizant that there were two opposing groups. Those of us who were obsessed with LOST and those of you that thought we were idiots for wasting six years(when we could have been expanding our minds by way of Celebrity Apprentice". )My intention with this 365 day blog entry challenge is to write for the people so I will attempt to reflect more universally.
For those of you who were not watching the last six years, one of the questions most fans inquired about was what happened to Walt, the only "child" on the island. From a puberty perspective, it was best to write this character off in a show involving time travel, flash backs, flash forwards and sex. In cages. However, I was rooting for a future sequence that would bring Walt back in the form of Michael Clarke Duncan.
The bittersweet finale delivered the answers to the big questions but disturbed some fans for choosing not to revisit the small ones. Perhaps viewers should (quite simply) get over it and have peace of mind without needing to be presented with a PowerPoint presentation (with a bad ass lightsaber-esque pointer) spelling out every detail of a series that totaled 121(and a half) hours.
LET GO.
Get it? Another Lost central theme. Yay me.
The show's tortured(yet ultimately redeemed) characters loved each other, tested each other and all remained sultrily steamin' hot without showers, hair product and Russian waxers. Together.
Whether we're a a faith man, a science man or an ass man...I would hope that we all have the capacity to find peace by the simple notion of not having to go through this journey alone.
I am certainly not a philosopher(for fear that my subpar equilibrium would result in my falling off a soapbox) but (gently) suggest that we not be a slave to all that is pragmatic, embrace faith and allow people to lift us from a place(in this existence. Or any existence) that is no longer serving us.
Namaste
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Day 288 - Ask Jax - Part 14
May 23rd, 2010
This is the 14th installment of my "Ask Jax" series. I'm open to answering any of your pressing inquiries. Any topic. I can't guarantee instant publication, but I will hold onto all questions and attempt to answer them at some point during my 365 day blog entry challenge. Remember there are no stupid questions. Just stupid people who ask questions.
Why do people modify their bodies? Clyde Henriques, Brooklyn, New York
Jax's Answer: You raise a good point Clyde Charles Henriques(and I adore that this inquiry comes from a man with more than a dozen tattoos on his arms, legs, toe and (yes) lip.) Bless your heart. Last night I overheard another male say to you, "You're a legitimate badass." That's the ultimate compliment coming from another individual with that testosterone stuff .This leads me to surmise that your modifications are working for you. Good hustle. In my case, my self alterations include simpler adjustments that include brushing my hair, painting my nails and waxing in sensitive regions that are so painful that I soothe myself with this phrase, "It hurts..that means it's working." In summation, I make the changes because I embrace that I'm not good enough the way I am.
Why do dogs sniff butts? - Female causation that doesn't want me to user her name- New York, New York
Jax's Answer - The common belief that the dog nose to butt union is a way of saying "hello" is a myth. A dog's affinity for the derrieres of fellow canines goes much deeper(into the two anal glands in their rectums, which emit a strong scent.) the potent(and delightful) tushy aroma they smell gives them detailed and vital information about the other dog.
It reveals the following:
- The sex
- The health status
- The temperament
- Do they prefer mauling tabby, alley or Persian cats?
- Paper or plastic?
- Yahtzee or Sudoku?
- Stoli or Kettle One?
- Are they capable of being part of the revolt against parasitic humans?
- Have they read "Animal Farm"?
Is there a heaven and when are we going bike riding? - Kat Theolyone, New York, New York
Jax's Answer - Heaven? Yes, there is one. Just type the following into your GPS - Heaven City Restaurant - S91 W27850 National Ave. Mukwonago, Wisconsin. I recommend taking your field trip to Heaven City on a Friday. It's Fried Fish night. Our biking date? Soon sweet Kat. Soon. I just a need a bit more time to perfect being a "Biker Dick. And Proud". http://jacquelinekabat.blogspot.com/2010/05/day-285-biker-dick-and-proud.html
This is the 14th installment of my "Ask Jax" series. I'm open to answering any of your pressing inquiries. Any topic. I can't guarantee instant publication, but I will hold onto all questions and attempt to answer them at some point during my 365 day blog entry challenge. Remember there are no stupid questions. Just stupid people who ask questions.
Why do people modify their bodies? Clyde Henriques, Brooklyn, New York
Jax's Answer: You raise a good point Clyde Charles Henriques(and I adore that this inquiry comes from a man with more than a dozen tattoos on his arms, legs, toe and (yes) lip.) Bless your heart. Last night I overheard another male say to you, "You're a legitimate badass." That's the ultimate compliment coming from another individual with that testosterone stuff .This leads me to surmise that your modifications are working for you. Good hustle. In my case, my self alterations include simpler adjustments that include brushing my hair, painting my nails and waxing in sensitive regions that are so painful that I soothe myself with this phrase, "It hurts..that means it's working." In summation, I make the changes because I embrace that I'm not good enough the way I am.
Why do dogs sniff butts? - Female causation that doesn't want me to user her name- New York, New York
Jax's Answer - The common belief that the dog nose to butt union is a way of saying "hello" is a myth. A dog's affinity for the derrieres of fellow canines goes much deeper(into the two anal glands in their rectums, which emit a strong scent.) the potent(and delightful) tushy aroma they smell gives them detailed and vital information about the other dog.
It reveals the following:
- The sex
- The health status
- The temperament
- Do they prefer mauling tabby, alley or Persian cats?
- Paper or plastic?
- Yahtzee or Sudoku?
- Stoli or Kettle One?
- Are they capable of being part of the revolt against parasitic humans?
- Have they read "Animal Farm"?
Is there a heaven and when are we going bike riding? - Kat Theolyone, New York, New York
Jax's Answer - Heaven? Yes, there is one. Just type the following into your GPS - Heaven City Restaurant - S91 W27850 National Ave. Mukwonago, Wisconsin. I recommend taking your field trip to Heaven City on a Friday. It's Fried Fish night. Our biking date? Soon sweet Kat. Soon. I just a need a bit more time to perfect being a "Biker Dick. And Proud". http://jacquelinekabat.blogspot.com/2010/05/day-285-biker-dick-and-proud.html
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Day 287 - After School. Not So Special
May 22nd, 2010
Last night I was acting as a wing woman to my friend and ended up introducing her to the only semi-attractive man at the Brooklyn Inn. Good cheekbones. Soon into the conversation, the guy tells us that he's an actor and we probably recognize him from the 1988 after school special, "Date Rape".
He was proud. And I had a blog topic.
I did give the chiseled faced guy credit for having no shame in sharing (what i assume) is his only acting credit. He owned it. Just like the guy on the "Living with Genital Warts" poster.
it's unfortunate that he wasn't cast in multiple programs because I would have been among after school royalty had his resume included more not so memorable films with provocative and sensitive topics like:
- "My Dad Lives in a Downtown Hotel"
- "Me and My Hormones"
- "It Isn't Easy Being a Teenage Millionaire"
- "It's No Crush, I'm in Love"
- "Daddy Can't Read"
As a child, I would sit (on our yellow shag carpet) mildly mesmerized by these specials that were after school. They claimed to be crusading against all the controversial and social issues facing the yutes. Yet their mission backfired because kids are driven to experiment with mind altering substances and have unprotected sex to take the edge off of seeing a televised program with "Is this really fucking for real?" production value, acting and content.
After school special execs, Enough. I said enough! I think your product is lame. Kids think its lame. And your kids think its lame. If your income is based on cluttering the airwaves with this garbage..I say go all out. Some suggested titles you should be able to work with:
- "My Dad Lives in a Downtown Hotel. With Charo. From 'The Love Boat'."
- "Me and My Hormones. We're Buddy Cops"
- "It Isn't Easy Being a Teenage Millionaire. Or a Teenage Robot"
- "It's No Crush, I'm in Love. With a Possum"
- "Daddy Can't Read. But He Can Sew."
Last night I was acting as a wing woman to my friend and ended up introducing her to the only semi-attractive man at the Brooklyn Inn. Good cheekbones. Soon into the conversation, the guy tells us that he's an actor and we probably recognize him from the 1988 after school special, "Date Rape".
He was proud. And I had a blog topic.
I did give the chiseled faced guy credit for having no shame in sharing (what i assume) is his only acting credit. He owned it. Just like the guy on the "Living with Genital Warts" poster.
it's unfortunate that he wasn't cast in multiple programs because I would have been among after school royalty had his resume included more not so memorable films with provocative and sensitive topics like:
- "My Dad Lives in a Downtown Hotel"
- "Me and My Hormones"
- "It Isn't Easy Being a Teenage Millionaire"
- "It's No Crush, I'm in Love"
- "Daddy Can't Read"
As a child, I would sit (on our yellow shag carpet) mildly mesmerized by these specials that were after school. They claimed to be crusading against all the controversial and social issues facing the yutes. Yet their mission backfired because kids are driven to experiment with mind altering substances and have unprotected sex to take the edge off of seeing a televised program with "Is this really fucking for real?" production value, acting and content.
After school special execs, Enough. I said enough! I think your product is lame. Kids think its lame. And your kids think its lame. If your income is based on cluttering the airwaves with this garbage..I say go all out. Some suggested titles you should be able to work with:
- "My Dad Lives in a Downtown Hotel. With Charo. From 'The Love Boat'."
- "Me and My Hormones. We're Buddy Cops"
- "It Isn't Easy Being a Teenage Millionaire. Or a Teenage Robot"
- "It's No Crush, I'm in Love. With a Possum"
- "Daddy Can't Read. But He Can Sew."
Friday, May 21, 2010
Day 286 - Three. Stay Strong
May 21st, 2010
I was curious why bad things happen in 3's and my aunt, Ruth Kabat Thomas, explained, "It's a long story...it starts out with a priest, a rabbi and a hooker..."
Certain populations can argue that very good things can happen in 3's.
- Devout Christians seem to have an affinity for the Father, Son and the Holy Ghost.
- Sexually experimental people are probably in the Facebook group, "Fan of Threesomes".
- As far as I'm concerned, I find comfort in triplets. There's always the obligatory evil twin...but I've never crossed paths with an evil triplet.
According to Pythagoras, the Ionian Greek philosopher and founder of the religious movement called Pythagoreanism, 3 was the noblest of all digits.
Dare I say that three times is indeed a charm and "this odd" number between 2 and 4 isn't odd at all...just misunderstood.
- In mathematics, three is the first odd prime number.
- In science, genetic information is encoded in a triplet codon system.
- In television, the Brady's had 3 girls and 3 boys. In one bathroom.
Three, don't let other numbers bully you into thinking that you're lesser than. Just remember that every number has baggage:
1 - German singer Nena had only a one hit wonder song ..and it was weird. “99 Luft Balloons”
2 - Number two is code for the waste product from our digestive tract expelled through the anus. Enough said.
4 - There were Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse in the New Testament. My Christian friends tell me they were uncool.
5 - Number five is the atomic number for Boron, What the hell is Boron? That's right number three... not the sexiest of elements."
6 - The Six-Day War of June 5–10, 1967 was a war between Israel and the neighboring states of Egypt, Jordan, and Syria. Fun? I don't think so.
7 - Lucky number? Not if you were at Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941.
8 - Larry king ...eight marriages.
9 - There are nine Starbucks on my block.
10 - If you took American history, it's safe to assume that it did not end pretty for the "Ten Little Indians".
So three, if anyone jabs you with "bad things happen in threes" ...just remember that a lot of mediocre things happen in bulk.
I was curious why bad things happen in 3's and my aunt, Ruth Kabat Thomas, explained, "It's a long story...it starts out with a priest, a rabbi and a hooker..."
Certain populations can argue that very good things can happen in 3's.
- Devout Christians seem to have an affinity for the Father, Son and the Holy Ghost.
- Sexually experimental people are probably in the Facebook group, "Fan of Threesomes".
- As far as I'm concerned, I find comfort in triplets. There's always the obligatory evil twin...but I've never crossed paths with an evil triplet.
According to Pythagoras, the Ionian Greek philosopher and founder of the religious movement called Pythagoreanism, 3 was the noblest of all digits.
Dare I say that three times is indeed a charm and "this odd" number between 2 and 4 isn't odd at all...just misunderstood.
- In mathematics, three is the first odd prime number.
- In science, genetic information is encoded in a triplet codon system.
- In television, the Brady's had 3 girls and 3 boys. In one bathroom.
Three, don't let other numbers bully you into thinking that you're lesser than. Just remember that every number has baggage:
1 - German singer Nena had only a one hit wonder song ..and it was weird. “99 Luft Balloons”
2 - Number two is code for the waste product from our digestive tract expelled through the anus. Enough said.
4 - There were Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse in the New Testament. My Christian friends tell me they were uncool.
5 - Number five is the atomic number for Boron, What the hell is Boron? That's right number three... not the sexiest of elements."
6 - The Six-Day War of June 5–10, 1967 was a war between Israel and the neighboring states of Egypt, Jordan, and Syria. Fun? I don't think so.
7 - Lucky number? Not if you were at Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941.
8 - Larry king ...eight marriages.
9 - There are nine Starbucks on my block.
10 - If you took American history, it's safe to assume that it did not end pretty for the "Ten Little Indians".
So three, if anyone jabs you with "bad things happen in threes" ...just remember that a lot of mediocre things happen in bulk.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Day 285- Biker Dick. And Proud
May 20th, 2010
If a motorist and a pedestrian were to breed...their baby would be a bicyclist. I'm proud to announce that I have been birthed and inducted into the elite badass population of cyclists, the lovechild of machine and human.
My dear friend was kind enough to give me her 3 year old Trek Navigator 100 mountain bike and (if everything goes according to plan) my world will expand. And my ass will not.
Owning a bike in Brooklyn is an essential part of the borough fiber that is sure to up my status and secure my dream of becoming Brooklyn homecoming queen. It screams, "You know who's arrived? Jax has. On 2 wheels."
I know you're feeling bewildered and thinking, "But Jax! You always felt disdain toward bicyclists because they aggressively and pompously whisked by you...with uninvited sass." Yes, I was a skeptic until today when I was that aggressive pompous whisker...and was encompassed by heightened pleasure during every minute of it. I've never been happier.
In just a few hours, here's how I became a biker dick:
- I rode facing traffic in order to make eye contact with drivers and shoot them the finger.
- I weaved in and out of the streets to prove that I was agile, flexible and shitfaced.
- I rode into an intersection without obeying a stop sign. I got off my bike, put my arms in the air and yelled to the drivers, "Not only are you hurting the environment, you're hurting Al Gore!"
- I made a point to ride on the sidewalk. Easier to kick the strollers.
- When it got dark, I didn't turn on my high power LED lights.This effectively told pedestrians and motorist that they look better in the dark.
If a motorist and a pedestrian were to breed...their baby would be a bicyclist. I'm proud to announce that I have been birthed and inducted into the elite badass population of cyclists, the lovechild of machine and human.
My dear friend was kind enough to give me her 3 year old Trek Navigator 100 mountain bike and (if everything goes according to plan) my world will expand. And my ass will not.
Owning a bike in Brooklyn is an essential part of the borough fiber that is sure to up my status and secure my dream of becoming Brooklyn homecoming queen. It screams, "You know who's arrived? Jax has. On 2 wheels."
I know you're feeling bewildered and thinking, "But Jax! You always felt disdain toward bicyclists because they aggressively and pompously whisked by you...with uninvited sass." Yes, I was a skeptic until today when I was that aggressive pompous whisker...and was encompassed by heightened pleasure during every minute of it. I've never been happier.
In just a few hours, here's how I became a biker dick:
- I rode facing traffic in order to make eye contact with drivers and shoot them the finger.
- I weaved in and out of the streets to prove that I was agile, flexible and shitfaced.
- I rode into an intersection without obeying a stop sign. I got off my bike, put my arms in the air and yelled to the drivers, "Not only are you hurting the environment, you're hurting Al Gore!"
- I made a point to ride on the sidewalk. Easier to kick the strollers.
- When it got dark, I didn't turn on my high power LED lights.This effectively told pedestrians and motorist that they look better in the dark.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Day 284 - Nonchalant Observer -Installment #8– Six Flags Great Adventure
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Today is my 8th installment of my “Nonchalant Observer” series. On day 22, I observed (judged) what crossed my path as I sat with my coffee on my Brooklyn stoop. On day 38, I took you with me to the happenings of beach life in the surfing town of Hermosa Beach, California. On day 112, we crossed the age gap and hit a retirement community. During happy hour. You came with me to my father and stepmother’s house for brunch in Westchester, New York on day 141 and you joined me as I was being shot in a piece for Current TV on day 205. On Day 210, you were part of my Grandma Harriet’s 90th birthday celebration in Charlotte, North Carolina. Day 263 was when I stood like a hooker with Marc Jacobs sunglasses and observed the environment on the corner of 49th and Madison in Manhattan.
Today a group of my friends collectively decided that it would be best to take a day off from our (real or alleged) jobs and partake in an excursion that would undoubtedly have a powerful influence over our minds, bodies and spirits: Six Flags Great Adventure.
You might be judging and thinking, "But Jax! Isn't it a bit juvenile for a group in their 30's a 40's (without kids) to spend a Wednesday at a 2200-acre park featuring awesome rides, an abundance of over sexed teens and $15 funnel cakes?" First, settle down. Then repeat (group coordinator)Paul Hale's mantra and you will...believe: "Roller coasters, no lines, beer, roller coasters, no lines, beer..."
I shall review some highlights. The following took place between 8:56am - 5:34 pm on today's adventure...that was indeed...great.
8:56-The group met up in front of a Dunkin' Donuts where Paul was waiting to transport us(via SUV) to the giant playground in central New Jersey. His title has now gone from group coordinator to group dad.
9:09 - The only person I didn't know in our family friendly vehicle was sitting next to me... Pete Schwinge. Nice guy. He has some investment job that I didn't understand and is getting his masters in Music Business at NYU. But what really intrigued me about my new friend was that he is a seasoned reviewer of Buffalo wings. That is right. Schwinge loves wings. http://wingsandthecity.wordpress.com/
10:27 - We arrived a few minutes before the park opened at 10:30 and Paul parked in the back of an empty parking lot so we would have a seamless exit at the end of the day. Oh dad....you're incorrigible(and pretty bad ass for taking 26 roller coaster rides in 8 hours. I don't care what mom says. I think you're tops.)
10:56 - We waste no time. We're doers. We do. Hard. We began the roller coaster-palooza with "seven monstrous loops, one corkscrew and two boomerang loops" on the Scream Machine. Adrenaline rushes ensue, teenagers eye us perplexed as to why elderly idiots are on their turf and I'm experiencing a tinge of nausea..but I ignore it like the first 20 viruses on my (now dead) computer.
11:16 - We immediately walk(skip) to El Toro..widely regarded as one of the world's best wooden roller coasters that provides massive amounts of that reassuring feeling of being lifted out of your seat (similar to being a passenger in my car at age 16.)
11:45 - The rest of the morning was roller coaster intensive as we frolicked among today's youth who were either skipping school or part of some Christian wrestling club. On the Runaway Train, the controller wouldn't start the ride until we lifted our hands and said choo choo. Hard ass.
12:15 - I promised to be honest in my 365 blog entry challenge. After a morning full of roller coaster goodness, I threw up. Actually, more of a dry heave. Immediately afterwards, I ate cheap Chinese food for lunch. Just the kinda girl I am.
12:47 - A Six Flags employee walked by holding a giant flat screen TV. I wonder if the prizes have gotten better.
1;29 - After lunch, Our destination was Kingda Ka, the tallest and fastest roller coaster in the world, The train is launched by a hydraulic launch mechanism to 128 miles per hour in 3.5 seconds and climbs(then falls from) 45 stories in the air. I said I had to draw the line and pass on this death machine.
1:31 - I didn't draw the line. I went on Kingda Ka. And who's a winner? I am.
2:07 - We go on the Superman upside down roller coaster that is supposed to give you the sensation of flying. It didn't. And I wanted to fly. High.
2:54 - Beer
3:27 - We went on Skull Mountain, an indoor "haunted" ride. I've said it once and I'll say it again. If you leave anything that claims to be haunted alive..then it's not scary enough. Plus there seemed to be some strobe light malfunction that pissed off a teenage girl who refused to get out of her seat until the problem was resolved. Sassy.
4:59 - I rode a few more roller coasters, peed a lot and arrived at the 11th(and final) ride, The Dark Knight. "It is an indoor ride with a pre-show, a pre-load station, Gotham City subway cars and Batman thematic elements in the ride. " One word: anticlimactic. To air our grievances, we're in the process of composing an open letter to the Department of Whatever.
5:34 - My mission was complete. I rode each of the 11 roller coasters. The guys in the group refused to leave the park after the embarrassingly sub par Dark Knight fiasco . In order to end this day of endurance with pride, they went back and rode the El Toro. Four times. Why? Because they have penises.
Today is my 8th installment of my “Nonchalant Observer” series. On day 22, I observed (judged) what crossed my path as I sat with my coffee on my Brooklyn stoop. On day 38, I took you with me to the happenings of beach life in the surfing town of Hermosa Beach, California. On day 112, we crossed the age gap and hit a retirement community. During happy hour. You came with me to my father and stepmother’s house for brunch in Westchester, New York on day 141 and you joined me as I was being shot in a piece for Current TV on day 205. On Day 210, you were part of my Grandma Harriet’s 90th birthday celebration in Charlotte, North Carolina. Day 263 was when I stood like a hooker with Marc Jacobs sunglasses and observed the environment on the corner of 49th and Madison in Manhattan.
Today a group of my friends collectively decided that it would be best to take a day off from our (real or alleged) jobs and partake in an excursion that would undoubtedly have a powerful influence over our minds, bodies and spirits: Six Flags Great Adventure.
You might be judging and thinking, "But Jax! Isn't it a bit juvenile for a group in their 30's a 40's (without kids) to spend a Wednesday at a 2200-acre park featuring awesome rides, an abundance of over sexed teens and $15 funnel cakes?" First, settle down. Then repeat (group coordinator)Paul Hale's mantra and you will...believe: "Roller coasters, no lines, beer, roller coasters, no lines, beer..."
I shall review some highlights. The following took place between 8:56am - 5:34 pm on today's adventure...that was indeed...great.
8:56-The group met up in front of a Dunkin' Donuts where Paul was waiting to transport us(via SUV) to the giant playground in central New Jersey. His title has now gone from group coordinator to group dad.
9:09 - The only person I didn't know in our family friendly vehicle was sitting next to me... Pete Schwinge. Nice guy. He has some investment job that I didn't understand and is getting his masters in Music Business at NYU. But what really intrigued me about my new friend was that he is a seasoned reviewer of Buffalo wings. That is right. Schwinge loves wings. http://wingsandthecity.wordpress.com/
10:27 - We arrived a few minutes before the park opened at 10:30 and Paul parked in the back of an empty parking lot so we would have a seamless exit at the end of the day. Oh dad....you're incorrigible(and pretty bad ass for taking 26 roller coaster rides in 8 hours. I don't care what mom says. I think you're tops.)
10:56 - We waste no time. We're doers. We do. Hard. We began the roller coaster-palooza with "seven monstrous loops, one corkscrew and two boomerang loops" on the Scream Machine. Adrenaline rushes ensue, teenagers eye us perplexed as to why elderly idiots are on their turf and I'm experiencing a tinge of nausea..but I ignore it like the first 20 viruses on my (now dead) computer.
11:16 - We immediately walk(skip) to El Toro..widely regarded as one of the world's best wooden roller coasters that provides massive amounts of that reassuring feeling of being lifted out of your seat (similar to being a passenger in my car at age 16.)
11:45 - The rest of the morning was roller coaster intensive as we frolicked among today's youth who were either skipping school or part of some Christian wrestling club. On the Runaway Train, the controller wouldn't start the ride until we lifted our hands and said choo choo. Hard ass.
12:15 - I promised to be honest in my 365 blog entry challenge. After a morning full of roller coaster goodness, I threw up. Actually, more of a dry heave. Immediately afterwards, I ate cheap Chinese food for lunch. Just the kinda girl I am.
12:47 - A Six Flags employee walked by holding a giant flat screen TV. I wonder if the prizes have gotten better.
1;29 - After lunch, Our destination was Kingda Ka, the tallest and fastest roller coaster in the world, The train is launched by a hydraulic launch mechanism to 128 miles per hour in 3.5 seconds and climbs(then falls from) 45 stories in the air. I said I had to draw the line and pass on this death machine.
1:31 - I didn't draw the line. I went on Kingda Ka. And who's a winner? I am.
2:07 - We go on the Superman upside down roller coaster that is supposed to give you the sensation of flying. It didn't. And I wanted to fly. High.
2:54 - Beer
3:27 - We went on Skull Mountain, an indoor "haunted" ride. I've said it once and I'll say it again. If you leave anything that claims to be haunted alive..then it's not scary enough. Plus there seemed to be some strobe light malfunction that pissed off a teenage girl who refused to get out of her seat until the problem was resolved. Sassy.
4:59 - I rode a few more roller coasters, peed a lot and arrived at the 11th(and final) ride, The Dark Knight. "It is an indoor ride with a pre-show, a pre-load station, Gotham City subway cars and Batman thematic elements in the ride. " One word: anticlimactic. To air our grievances, we're in the process of composing an open letter to the Department of Whatever.
5:34 - My mission was complete. I rode each of the 11 roller coasters. The guys in the group refused to leave the park after the embarrassingly sub par Dark Knight fiasco . In order to end this day of endurance with pride, they went back and rode the El Toro. Four times. Why? Because they have penises.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Day 283 - Kitty Kelley: An Unauthorized Biography
May 18th, 2010
The Oprah is the newest unfortunate recipient of Kitty Kelley's latest unauthorized profile that contains sensationalized, inaccurate and unflattering personal anecdotes and details.
In a statement issued by Crown Publishing Group, Kelly said, "Oprah Winfrey has fascinated me for many years — as a woman, she has wielded an unprecedented amount of influence over the American culture and psyche."
"So of course I must destroy her." OK, this last part is an unauthorized quote. By me.
American investigative journalist and author of several best-selling unauthorized biographies of celebrities and politicians writes that Oprah used drugs, prostituted herself and alluded that she had a lesbian affair with Diane Sawyer.
Kitty Litter, any smidgen of credibility dissipates with this gay allegation. Anyone who reads the unauthorized biography blogs knows that if Oprah were wooed by the ways of the woman, Gayle would be the recipient of her lovin'.
A few questions for the soul of the 'time to get your roots done" lady who's penned mean spirited, unfavorable and discredited details about the lives of Jacqueline Onassis, the British Royal Family, Frank Sinatra, Nancy Reagan and the Bushes.
Why so viscous?
Why so unfounded?
Do you reveal flagrant and absurd falsehoods to destroy the images of public figures to desensitize yourself from your own poor life choices?
I had my team of imaginary assistants investigate why you utilize retaliatory, vengeful and hostile so-called journalism to strip the honor or people more successful than you.
According to a PowerPoint presentation exhibited to me (with a life saber pointer) by my delusions, I've become cognizant that you have galloped through life concealing your own stimulating personal matters. Up until now.
After the success of my novel, "Enough About Me. More About Me", I plan to commence my next literary project, "Kitty Kelley: An Unauthorized Biography".
Ms. Kelley, thank you. You have confirmed that my wallet will be filled and my ego will be fed once I publish the following:
- Your father was an alley cat.
- You were born without an anus.
- You've had multiple alleged affairs with community college sports mascots. Including "the Fighting Slug!"
The Oprah is the newest unfortunate recipient of Kitty Kelley's latest unauthorized profile that contains sensationalized, inaccurate and unflattering personal anecdotes and details.
In a statement issued by Crown Publishing Group, Kelly said, "Oprah Winfrey has fascinated me for many years — as a woman, she has wielded an unprecedented amount of influence over the American culture and psyche."
"So of course I must destroy her." OK, this last part is an unauthorized quote. By me.
American investigative journalist and author of several best-selling unauthorized biographies of celebrities and politicians writes that Oprah used drugs, prostituted herself and alluded that she had a lesbian affair with Diane Sawyer.
Kitty Litter, any smidgen of credibility dissipates with this gay allegation. Anyone who reads the unauthorized biography blogs knows that if Oprah were wooed by the ways of the woman, Gayle would be the recipient of her lovin'.
A few questions for the soul of the 'time to get your roots done" lady who's penned mean spirited, unfavorable and discredited details about the lives of Jacqueline Onassis, the British Royal Family, Frank Sinatra, Nancy Reagan and the Bushes.
Why so viscous?
Why so unfounded?
Do you reveal flagrant and absurd falsehoods to destroy the images of public figures to desensitize yourself from your own poor life choices?
I had my team of imaginary assistants investigate why you utilize retaliatory, vengeful and hostile so-called journalism to strip the honor or people more successful than you.
According to a PowerPoint presentation exhibited to me (with a life saber pointer) by my delusions, I've become cognizant that you have galloped through life concealing your own stimulating personal matters. Up until now.
After the success of my novel, "Enough About Me. More About Me", I plan to commence my next literary project, "Kitty Kelley: An Unauthorized Biography".
Ms. Kelley, thank you. You have confirmed that my wallet will be filled and my ego will be fed once I publish the following:
- Your father was an alley cat.
- You were born without an anus.
- You've had multiple alleged affairs with community college sports mascots. Including "the Fighting Slug!"
Monday, May 17, 2010
Day 282 - Schadenfreude, Mudita or Indifference?
May 17th, 2010
On day 158 of my 365 day blog challenge, I wrote an entry called “Jew, Not-a-Jew or Canadian?” I gave you scenarios and asked you which of these three categories the examples fell under.
http://jacquelinekabat.blogspot.com/2010/01/day-158-jew-not-jew-or-canadian.html. On Day 166, I brought to you another list to test your knowledge of 3 interchangeable people: Bill O’Reilly, Kanye West and Mother Teresa. http://jacquelinekabat.blogspot.com/2010/01/day-166-bill-oreilly-kanye-west-or.html. Determining if you were celebrating Passover, Easter or The Festival of Steve Guttenberg was where we journeyed on Day 235. http://jacquelinekabat.blogspot.com/2010_03_01_archive.html. And just because I was curious, on Day 243, I needed to know if you had the Fear of Failure, Abandonment or Zombies? http://jacquelinekabat.blogspot.com/2010/04/day-243-fear-of-failure-abandonment-or.html. Most recently, on day 253, I needed to know if you were suffering from penis panic, vagina fervor or Breakin' 2: Electric Boogaloo. http://jacquelinekabat.blogspot.com/2010/04/day-253-penis-panic-vagina-fervor-or.html.
Today, I am curious if you saunter through life with schadenfreude, mudita or indifference. Perhaps you're perplexed and thinking, "But Jax! I know the word indifference(not that I care)...but the other two words confuse me. In the head area." I shall explain child. The German word, schadenfreude, is pleasure derived from the misfortunes of others while the Buddhist concept of mudita is the happiness in another's good fortune.
In order to determine your disposition, see which of these scenarios you resonate with:
The woman that your spouse left you for is not only smokin't hot, but has a PhD in a word you can't pronounce. You are delighted when she ends up getting mauled by a kitten in a freak Humane Society accident. It was a Persian.
You were trapped in a well as a child and were forced to eat pennies. And your own feces. Your heart feels full when you learn that the fireman who saved your life won 10 million dollars(in quarters)while playing a slot machine in Atlantic City.
A mild acquaintance tells you that he ate Ziti al Forno at the Olive Garden last night. You shrug your shoulders, ask yourself, "When I'm there..am I really family?" and then shrug your shoulders again.
Your emotionally abusive boss had to have his nose removed after being bit by a hooker at a motel. With hourly rates.
Your child gets into Harvard. You cry tears of joy after all he endured from being born with a tail.
You're in line at the grocery store and see a picture of Matthew McConaughey shirtless on a tabloid again. You shrug your shoulders, ask yourself, "Is he gay?" and then shrug your shoulders again.
You hear that the bully who ruined your childhood overdosed on bran.
You've achieved great success in life and have always wanted the best for your best friend who lost his parents when they experimented with time travel. And succeeded. After persevering through this tragic loss, your friend has found great fortune, pride and purpose with the success of his business, "Machetes. For Tots."
Someone you mildly knew in high school writes a Facebook status update that says, "Thank God it's Friday!" You shrug your shoulders, ask yourself, "Did I sleep with her in high school?" and then shrug your shoulders again.
On day 158 of my 365 day blog challenge, I wrote an entry called “Jew, Not-a-Jew or Canadian?” I gave you scenarios and asked you which of these three categories the examples fell under.
http://jacquelinekabat.blogspot.com/2010/01/day-158-jew-not-jew-or-canadian.html. On Day 166, I brought to you another list to test your knowledge of 3 interchangeable people: Bill O’Reilly, Kanye West and Mother Teresa. http://jacquelinekabat.blogspot.com/2010/01/day-166-bill-oreilly-kanye-west-or.html. Determining if you were celebrating Passover, Easter or The Festival of Steve Guttenberg was where we journeyed on Day 235. http://jacquelinekabat.blogspot.com/2010_03_01_archive.html. And just because I was curious, on Day 243, I needed to know if you had the Fear of Failure, Abandonment or Zombies? http://jacquelinekabat.blogspot.com/2010/04/day-243-fear-of-failure-abandonment-or.html. Most recently, on day 253, I needed to know if you were suffering from penis panic, vagina fervor or Breakin' 2: Electric Boogaloo. http://jacquelinekabat.blogspot.com/2010/04/day-253-penis-panic-vagina-fervor-or.html.
Today, I am curious if you saunter through life with schadenfreude, mudita or indifference. Perhaps you're perplexed and thinking, "But Jax! I know the word indifference(not that I care)...but the other two words confuse me. In the head area." I shall explain child. The German word, schadenfreude, is pleasure derived from the misfortunes of others while the Buddhist concept of mudita is the happiness in another's good fortune.
In order to determine your disposition, see which of these scenarios you resonate with:
The woman that your spouse left you for is not only smokin't hot, but has a PhD in a word you can't pronounce. You are delighted when she ends up getting mauled by a kitten in a freak Humane Society accident. It was a Persian.
You were trapped in a well as a child and were forced to eat pennies. And your own feces. Your heart feels full when you learn that the fireman who saved your life won 10 million dollars(in quarters)while playing a slot machine in Atlantic City.
A mild acquaintance tells you that he ate Ziti al Forno at the Olive Garden last night. You shrug your shoulders, ask yourself, "When I'm there..am I really family?" and then shrug your shoulders again.
Your emotionally abusive boss had to have his nose removed after being bit by a hooker at a motel. With hourly rates.
Your child gets into Harvard. You cry tears of joy after all he endured from being born with a tail.
You're in line at the grocery store and see a picture of Matthew McConaughey shirtless on a tabloid again. You shrug your shoulders, ask yourself, "Is he gay?" and then shrug your shoulders again.
You hear that the bully who ruined your childhood overdosed on bran.
You've achieved great success in life and have always wanted the best for your best friend who lost his parents when they experimented with time travel. And succeeded. After persevering through this tragic loss, your friend has found great fortune, pride and purpose with the success of his business, "Machetes. For Tots."
Someone you mildly knew in high school writes a Facebook status update that says, "Thank God it's Friday!" You shrug your shoulders, ask yourself, "Did I sleep with her in high school?" and then shrug your shoulders again.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Day 281 - Ask Jax - Part 13
May 16th, 2010
This is the 13th installment of my "Ask Jax" series. I'm open to answering any of your pressing inquiries. Any topic. I can't guarantee instant publication, but I will hold onto all questions and attempt to answer them at some point during my 365 day blog entry challenge.Remember there are no stupid questions. Just stupid people who ask questions.
On a scale of 1-10, how crappy does the new "Sex and the City" movie look? - Eli Gurock, Boston, Massachusetts
Jax's Answer - I'm not insensitive to the fact that the overdone sexacapes of four women past their prime is unappealing to men. I get it. I feel you...and those of you with penises are in luck. I sneaked onto the "Sex and the City" sound stage (disguised as a craft services cart) and clandestinely slipped in some of my own script revisions to the sequel that I guarantee will result with a feature film that will be luring testosterone to the cineplex. My alterations include more pain, war, destruction, electric grills, chest bumps, soul patches, cured meats, internet porn, rub 'n' tugs, motor oil, wings from Hooters, ice truckers and girl on girl action. Carrie's new love interest: Chuck Norris.
What's another word for thesaurus? - Ted Kim, Seattle Washington
Jax's answer - Another word for thesaurus is Ted Kim. This Korean knows words like real good and stuff. He also makes a mean Kimchi. With ketchup.
What happens on day 366? Does the music stop? - Mark Deutsch, Thornhill, Ontario
Jax's Answer - I assume Mark is referring to my labor of love endeavor of committing to this 365 day blog entry challenge of cosmic angst through the eyes of comedic insight. When my yearlong blogapalooza comes to an end, I see myself plunging onward with one of the following:
1) I'll continue writing my daily blog entries. In Dutch.
2) After following through on a year long writing project, I'll finally have the confidence to fulfill my true dream of hosting a game show called, "Guess How Many Fingers I'm Holding Behind My Back."
3) I'll work on my novel entitled, "Enough About Me. More About Me."
This is the 13th installment of my "Ask Jax" series. I'm open to answering any of your pressing inquiries. Any topic. I can't guarantee instant publication, but I will hold onto all questions and attempt to answer them at some point during my 365 day blog entry challenge.Remember there are no stupid questions. Just stupid people who ask questions.
On a scale of 1-10, how crappy does the new "Sex and the City" movie look? - Eli Gurock, Boston, Massachusetts
Jax's Answer - I'm not insensitive to the fact that the overdone sexacapes of four women past their prime is unappealing to men. I get it. I feel you...and those of you with penises are in luck. I sneaked onto the "Sex and the City" sound stage (disguised as a craft services cart) and clandestinely slipped in some of my own script revisions to the sequel that I guarantee will result with a feature film that will be luring testosterone to the cineplex. My alterations include more pain, war, destruction, electric grills, chest bumps, soul patches, cured meats, internet porn, rub 'n' tugs, motor oil, wings from Hooters, ice truckers and girl on girl action. Carrie's new love interest: Chuck Norris.
What's another word for thesaurus? - Ted Kim, Seattle Washington
Jax's answer - Another word for thesaurus is Ted Kim. This Korean knows words like real good and stuff. He also makes a mean Kimchi. With ketchup.
What happens on day 366? Does the music stop? - Mark Deutsch, Thornhill, Ontario
Jax's Answer - I assume Mark is referring to my labor of love endeavor of committing to this 365 day blog entry challenge of cosmic angst through the eyes of comedic insight. When my yearlong blogapalooza comes to an end, I see myself plunging onward with one of the following:
1) I'll continue writing my daily blog entries. In Dutch.
2) After following through on a year long writing project, I'll finally have the confidence to fulfill my true dream of hosting a game show called, "Guess How Many Fingers I'm Holding Behind My Back."
3) I'll work on my novel entitled, "Enough About Me. More About Me."
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Day 280 - Oh Mandy. The Jig is Up
May 15th, 2010
Before I was about to go on stage to do a set in last night's show, I received an enthusiastic text from my man saying that he was "playing with his TomTom."
Are you thinking this was code for playing with his genitalia? Perv.
Well, that's what I thought.
Although I was the one performing the comedy, the joke was on me because it soon came to my attention that a TomTom is a satellite navigation system designed for use in automobiles. Not a sex organ. But my boyfriend was playing with his penis in his other hand.
Today, I had the opportunity to really get acquainted with the TomTom as we tested his new GPS system while driving to and from Hackensack, New Jersey. OK. I feel you judging me with this thought: "But Jax! The motto for the Garden State is, 'New Jersey, it's a good place to pass through. At night.'" True. But this day trip was a multipurpose excursion that involved visiting a dear friend, getting a bike...and familiarizing ourselves with the wonderment of all that is TomTom.
Sitting shotgun, I took charge of setting up my guy's newest eBay purchase and felt deep satisfaction for persevering with my limited knowledge of any device related to electronics. The highlight of initiating this touch screen map savant was when I was directed to choose a voice for the navigation system. My boyfriend said no to a few options that included a series of male voices(like ambiguously gay Richard), a women named Bonnie with a Mrs. Roboto -esque sound and Susan, a female voice that resembled Madonna's faux British accent.
Our final decision: Mandy. We agreed that she was a efficient. Yet soothing.
I liked Mandy. For about five minutes. Then I noticed my boyfriend was all like, "Mandy this. Mandy that. Mandy, I want to make you a baby."
This did not go over well with me and I confronted him about his hasty infatuation with this computer generated voice. His response, "Jax, Mandy just takes me where I need to go."
Mandy, now I live in a constant debilitating fear that I will awaken to the following scenario that involves my boyfriend humping a pillow while singing,
"Oh Mandy
Well you came and you gave without taking
but I sent you away, oh Mandy
well you kissed me and stopped me from shaking
And I need you today, oh Mandy"
So Mandy, if this incident becomes a reality, watch your back. Bitch. The jig is up. I will cut you.
Before I was about to go on stage to do a set in last night's show, I received an enthusiastic text from my man saying that he was "playing with his TomTom."
Are you thinking this was code for playing with his genitalia? Perv.
Well, that's what I thought.
Although I was the one performing the comedy, the joke was on me because it soon came to my attention that a TomTom is a satellite navigation system designed for use in automobiles. Not a sex organ. But my boyfriend was playing with his penis in his other hand.
Today, I had the opportunity to really get acquainted with the TomTom as we tested his new GPS system while driving to and from Hackensack, New Jersey. OK. I feel you judging me with this thought: "But Jax! The motto for the Garden State is, 'New Jersey, it's a good place to pass through. At night.'" True. But this day trip was a multipurpose excursion that involved visiting a dear friend, getting a bike...and familiarizing ourselves with the wonderment of all that is TomTom.
Sitting shotgun, I took charge of setting up my guy's newest eBay purchase and felt deep satisfaction for persevering with my limited knowledge of any device related to electronics. The highlight of initiating this touch screen map savant was when I was directed to choose a voice for the navigation system. My boyfriend said no to a few options that included a series of male voices(like ambiguously gay Richard), a women named Bonnie with a Mrs. Roboto -esque sound and Susan, a female voice that resembled Madonna's faux British accent.
Our final decision: Mandy. We agreed that she was a efficient. Yet soothing.
I liked Mandy. For about five minutes. Then I noticed my boyfriend was all like, "Mandy this. Mandy that. Mandy, I want to make you a baby."
This did not go over well with me and I confronted him about his hasty infatuation with this computer generated voice. His response, "Jax, Mandy just takes me where I need to go."
Mandy, now I live in a constant debilitating fear that I will awaken to the following scenario that involves my boyfriend humping a pillow while singing,
"Oh Mandy
Well you came and you gave without taking
but I sent you away, oh Mandy
well you kissed me and stopped me from shaking
And I need you today, oh Mandy"
So Mandy, if this incident becomes a reality, watch your back. Bitch. The jig is up. I will cut you.
Friday, May 14, 2010
Day 279 - Rainbow Colored Urine? ebay
May 14th, 2010
On Day 230, I presented to you a blog entitled "Jax's Unrehab for Things that are Toxic and Fun"(http://jacquelinekabat.blogspot.com/2010/03/day-230-jaxs-unrehab-for-things-that.htm.)
A blurb. If you will: My unrehab facility "is geared towards people who have previously spent time in rehab clinics and return home only to discover that they no longer have the euphoria, confidence and zest that their addictions once provided their lives. At my clinic, I have gathered a team of untrained specialists who gently wean you back on the destructive substance and behavioral patterns that could destroy your life. But haven’t yet.
At Jax's Unrehab for Things that are Toxic and Fun, you'll attend round table discussions that are certain to get you back on your path. To nowhere. Here are some sample lectures:
- Beat the signs of aging –Overdose
- Spread your seed. The benefits of sex addiction and the overpopulation myth
- Gambling- Lost your life savings? Remember, persistence makes you a winner
- The Therapist – A career for those wishing to desensitize themselves to their own issues
- The Danger of placebo pills"
Upon further research on behaviors that can leave a person powerless, I came upon a dependence that some self righteous boring types say could be debilitating your family, friends, mild acquaintances, douches in your life ...and dare I say, you.
eBay
Those with an ebay addiction often enter a rehabilitation facility to obliterate their dependence on this online auction and shopping website in which people and businesses buy and sell necessities that can include Britney Spear’s chewed bubble gum, a grilled cheese sandwich with the image of the Virgin Mary and a woman's forehead for advertising space.
After ebay detox, a disturbing number of ebay-less individuals return to the world with body tremors, rainbow colored urine and a constant craving for beef jerky. Dog treats for humans.
This is where I boldly step in to assist this heartbreaking oppressed population to get back onto ebay. In a loving way, brainwashing.
You might be saying, "Jax, for the love of Jesus Harold Christ! Get a hold of yourself! You're enabling addicted bidders who've already jeopardized their relationships, careers and their their own moral fibers."
My retort - Enablers are just special givers.
I really drive this point home in this Youtube clip that shows me MC'ing for a marketing campaign for an eBay event at ABC. I warmed up 15 audiences for a live game show called "LET'S MAKE A DAILY DEAL" that was hosted by Mario Cantone and Monty Hall.http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eyy7sxePQ2E
I mean business.
At Jax's Unrehab for Things that are Toxic and Fun, I've recently opened the wireless eBay ward that is dedicated to returning 24/7 eBayers back to their purposeful compulsions for a glorified yard sale on the internet.
After the addict has been retoxed on eBay and completed my program, you'll be saying, "Wow. My loved one's fervor for their existence is back after buying Justin Timberlake’s partially-eaten french toast for $1025. No question about it, that smile absolutely justifies my beloved committing forgery, fraud, theft, and embezzlement to finance online activities"
On Day 230, I presented to you a blog entitled "Jax's Unrehab for Things that are Toxic and Fun"(http://jacquelinekabat.blogspot.com/2010/03/day-230-jaxs-unrehab-for-things-that.htm.)
A blurb. If you will: My unrehab facility "is geared towards people who have previously spent time in rehab clinics and return home only to discover that they no longer have the euphoria, confidence and zest that their addictions once provided their lives. At my clinic, I have gathered a team of untrained specialists who gently wean you back on the destructive substance and behavioral patterns that could destroy your life. But haven’t yet.
At Jax's Unrehab for Things that are Toxic and Fun, you'll attend round table discussions that are certain to get you back on your path. To nowhere. Here are some sample lectures:
- Beat the signs of aging –Overdose
- Spread your seed. The benefits of sex addiction and the overpopulation myth
- Gambling- Lost your life savings? Remember, persistence makes you a winner
- The Therapist – A career for those wishing to desensitize themselves to their own issues
- The Danger of placebo pills"
Upon further research on behaviors that can leave a person powerless, I came upon a dependence that some self righteous boring types say could be debilitating your family, friends, mild acquaintances, douches in your life ...and dare I say, you.
eBay
Those with an ebay addiction often enter a rehabilitation facility to obliterate their dependence on this online auction and shopping website in which people and businesses buy and sell necessities that can include Britney Spear’s chewed bubble gum, a grilled cheese sandwich with the image of the Virgin Mary and a woman's forehead for advertising space.
After ebay detox, a disturbing number of ebay-less individuals return to the world with body tremors, rainbow colored urine and a constant craving for beef jerky. Dog treats for humans.
This is where I boldly step in to assist this heartbreaking oppressed population to get back onto ebay. In a loving way, brainwashing.
You might be saying, "Jax, for the love of Jesus Harold Christ! Get a hold of yourself! You're enabling addicted bidders who've already jeopardized their relationships, careers and their their own moral fibers."
My retort - Enablers are just special givers.
I really drive this point home in this Youtube clip that shows me MC'ing for a marketing campaign for an eBay event at ABC. I warmed up 15 audiences for a live game show called "LET'S MAKE A DAILY DEAL" that was hosted by Mario Cantone and Monty Hall.http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eyy7sxePQ2E
I mean business.
At Jax's Unrehab for Things that are Toxic and Fun, I've recently opened the wireless eBay ward that is dedicated to returning 24/7 eBayers back to their purposeful compulsions for a glorified yard sale on the internet.
After the addict has been retoxed on eBay and completed my program, you'll be saying, "Wow. My loved one's fervor for their existence is back after buying Justin Timberlake’s partially-eaten french toast for $1025. No question about it, that smile absolutely justifies my beloved committing forgery, fraud, theft, and embezzlement to finance online activities"
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Day 278 - Jax TV
May 13th, 2010
My loyal reader, Mark Deutsch, suggested that I start a TV Channel,"Jax TV". This conception piqued my interest and I immediately moved forward with his request.
One critic agrees(with me)that I've gloriously succeeded in developing a "Gripping lineup of shows that puts the Cleveland Community Access channel to shame." The rest of the critics concur that ""Jax continues to live in a world with a disturbing lack of ethics, delusions of grandiosity and animated chirping birds."
Below is a sampling of the non-Emmy winning programs that you can expect to experience on Jax TV:
6:00 am - "Good Morning You"
- This early morning show consists of failed journalists who really go that extra mile to deliver inconsequential news in a style oozing with mediocrity. In order to determine how long we could expect winter to last, weather man, Scooter McGee, interviewed a groundhog. Sitting on a swivel chair.
11:00 am - "The Pew"
- A panel of priests sit on a long bench in an Episcopalian Church to discuss Fashion Don'ts. At mass.
2:00 pm - "All My Genetic Defects"
- This American soap opera is set in the fictional city of Fork in the Road, West Virginia. The show revolves around the eventful lives of an inbred tormented coal mining family.
4:00 pm - "Oprah"
8:00 pm - "Angus Beefing it Up"
- A zany sitcom where valet employee, Angus Tripp, is more than a parker of cars. He's their friend. Along with his kooky sidekick, Studebaker, crazy shenanigans ensue.
10:00 pm - "CSI: Jax's Pants"
11:30 pm - "Late Night With Gallagher"
My loyal reader, Mark Deutsch, suggested that I start a TV Channel,"Jax TV". This conception piqued my interest and I immediately moved forward with his request.
One critic agrees(with me)that I've gloriously succeeded in developing a "Gripping lineup of shows that puts the Cleveland Community Access channel to shame." The rest of the critics concur that ""Jax continues to live in a world with a disturbing lack of ethics, delusions of grandiosity and animated chirping birds."
Below is a sampling of the non-Emmy winning programs that you can expect to experience on Jax TV:
6:00 am - "Good Morning You"
- This early morning show consists of failed journalists who really go that extra mile to deliver inconsequential news in a style oozing with mediocrity. In order to determine how long we could expect winter to last, weather man, Scooter McGee, interviewed a groundhog. Sitting on a swivel chair.
11:00 am - "The Pew"
- A panel of priests sit on a long bench in an Episcopalian Church to discuss Fashion Don'ts. At mass.
2:00 pm - "All My Genetic Defects"
- This American soap opera is set in the fictional city of Fork in the Road, West Virginia. The show revolves around the eventful lives of an inbred tormented coal mining family.
4:00 pm - "Oprah"
8:00 pm - "Angus Beefing it Up"
- A zany sitcom where valet employee, Angus Tripp, is more than a parker of cars. He's their friend. Along with his kooky sidekick, Studebaker, crazy shenanigans ensue.
10:00 pm - "CSI: Jax's Pants"
11:30 pm - "Late Night With Gallagher"
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Day 277 - Jax-adoodle
May 12th, 2010
The Labradoodle was first bred deliberately in 1988 when Australian breeder Wally Conron crossed the Labrador Retriever and Standard Poodle to birth the "It" dog of the 90's and early millineum: The Labradoodle.
This breed of canine is praised for its low-shedding, gentleness and being hypoallergenic. So what if it has a jheri curl.
In the last few years, there seems to have been a Doodle-Palooza and the following are some of the newest designer dogs that can be found in abundance sniffing asses in our nations VIP upper middle class dog parks:
- Bassetoodle (Basset Hound / Poodle mix)
- Cadoodle (Collie/Poodle mix)
- Saint Berdoodle (Saint Bernard /Poodle mix)
- Boxerdoodle (Boxer / Poodle mix)
- Schnoodle (Schnauzer / Poodle mix)
- Doxie-Doodle (Dachshund / Poodle mix)
- And my favorite...wait for it....Bich-poo (Bichon Frise/Poodle mix)
I had a little free time on my hands and decided that I should hone in on my breeding skills. In an effort to test boundaries, I decided that it was time to cross breed the best of poodle traits with esteemed human characteristics.
I introduce to you...the Humandoodle.
In the bathroom of a Times Square Starbucks, I used my MacGyver skills(a Bunsen burner, a piece of string and street smarts) to successfully cross breed these soon to be sought after Humandoodles.
- Mr.Belvedoodle - Wears a tuxedo. Barks in British
- Investment Banker Douche-adoodle - Also referred to as Ponzipoodle
- Hipsterdoodle - Wears an ironic trucker hat (that really isn't ironic at all)
- Creepy Man That Hangs Out by the School Yard-adoodle - Has a mustache
- Village Peopledoodle - Gay
- Jackson Fivadoodle(now altered to the Jackson Fouradoodle) - New front mandoodle: Jermainadoodle
- Jax-adoodle - Has blond highlights. One liners
- Limited edition Humandoodle: I bred an Oprah-doodle with an Obama-doodle. Result: Black Jesusdoodle
The Labradoodle was first bred deliberately in 1988 when Australian breeder Wally Conron crossed the Labrador Retriever and Standard Poodle to birth the "It" dog of the 90's and early millineum: The Labradoodle.
This breed of canine is praised for its low-shedding, gentleness and being hypoallergenic. So what if it has a jheri curl.
In the last few years, there seems to have been a Doodle-Palooza and the following are some of the newest designer dogs that can be found in abundance sniffing asses in our nations VIP upper middle class dog parks:
- Bassetoodle (Basset Hound / Poodle mix)
- Cadoodle (Collie/Poodle mix)
- Saint Berdoodle (Saint Bernard /Poodle mix)
- Boxerdoodle (Boxer / Poodle mix)
- Schnoodle (Schnauzer / Poodle mix)
- Doxie-Doodle (Dachshund / Poodle mix)
- And my favorite...wait for it....Bich-poo (Bichon Frise/Poodle mix)
I had a little free time on my hands and decided that I should hone in on my breeding skills. In an effort to test boundaries, I decided that it was time to cross breed the best of poodle traits with esteemed human characteristics.
I introduce to you...the Humandoodle.
In the bathroom of a Times Square Starbucks, I used my MacGyver skills(a Bunsen burner, a piece of string and street smarts) to successfully cross breed these soon to be sought after Humandoodles.
- Mr.Belvedoodle - Wears a tuxedo. Barks in British
- Investment Banker Douche-adoodle - Also referred to as Ponzipoodle
- Hipsterdoodle - Wears an ironic trucker hat (that really isn't ironic at all)
- Creepy Man That Hangs Out by the School Yard-adoodle - Has a mustache
- Village Peopledoodle - Gay
- Jackson Fivadoodle(now altered to the Jackson Fouradoodle) - New front mandoodle: Jermainadoodle
- Jax-adoodle - Has blond highlights. One liners
- Limited edition Humandoodle: I bred an Oprah-doodle with an Obama-doodle. Result: Black Jesusdoodle
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Day 276 - Credit Friendly or Credit Douche?
May 11th, 2010
Websters Dictionary's definition of credit card - Any card that may be used repeatedly to borrow money or buy products and services on credit. Issued by banks, savings and loans, retail stores and other businesses.
Sample sentence - I was low on cash so I used my credit card to buy a Chia Pet. And a hooker.
Urban Dictionary's definitions of credit card - The act of sliding your hand through one's ass crack.
Sample sentence - When Sylvia was bending over, I was so tempted to give her a good ol' credit card.
Oh Urban Dictionary, right when I feared that you won't go there...you do. And I love you for that.
My initial direction with this blog was to do a Q&A with Sylvia so she could share the particulars of receiving a credit card. Sadly, she was unavailable for questioning because she is currently getting a Jackson Pollock. And I don't speak of a canvas from the abstract expressionist painter. Look it up.
So we are left to explore credit card definition #1.Taking into account that the average American is at least $9,000 in debt, it seems that many of us are easily tantalized by solicitations and items that have no practical use or advantage.
Although our debt could prevent us from ever qualifying for a mortgage, let's attempt to turn chicken shit into chicken salad by exposing the advantages of having a tiny glistening piece of plastic with a 75% interest rate. To pay off. For a lifetime.
Advantage #1 - We will be accepted by other Americans who contribute to the $2.5 trillion dollars in consumer debt. And being a part of a group...is awesome.
Advantage #2 - Credit cards are ideal for removing the sticker off the $6.99 bottle of wine we brought to that house party in the Hamptons.
Advantage #3 - Coke addicts agree...using credit cards to separate cocaine into lines to snort is effective. And easy. Say goodbye to those pesky razor blade cut jagged lines.
There is one population that I feel "indebted" to mention before I exit this blog at a leisurely pace. Credit card collectors. They just push too hard for our payments on our debts owed. Plain and simple. They call too much and it just comes down too this: It's not sexy. If we haven't called you back, we're just not that into you. I'm under the impression that these collectors had no other choice but to be in this shit vocation because they are the worst offenders of consumer debt. Of the thankless careers, credit card collector is pretty much at the top of the list. Closely followed by toll booth agent, middle school substitute teacher and jerk booth cleaning lady at Adult Showorld. Triple X.
.
Websters Dictionary's definition of credit card - Any card that may be used repeatedly to borrow money or buy products and services on credit. Issued by banks, savings and loans, retail stores and other businesses.
Sample sentence - I was low on cash so I used my credit card to buy a Chia Pet. And a hooker.
Urban Dictionary's definitions of credit card - The act of sliding your hand through one's ass crack.
Sample sentence - When Sylvia was bending over, I was so tempted to give her a good ol' credit card.
Oh Urban Dictionary, right when I feared that you won't go there...you do. And I love you for that.
My initial direction with this blog was to do a Q&A with Sylvia so she could share the particulars of receiving a credit card. Sadly, she was unavailable for questioning because she is currently getting a Jackson Pollock. And I don't speak of a canvas from the abstract expressionist painter. Look it up.
So we are left to explore credit card definition #1.Taking into account that the average American is at least $9,000 in debt, it seems that many of us are easily tantalized by solicitations and items that have no practical use or advantage.
Although our debt could prevent us from ever qualifying for a mortgage, let's attempt to turn chicken shit into chicken salad by exposing the advantages of having a tiny glistening piece of plastic with a 75% interest rate. To pay off. For a lifetime.
Advantage #1 - We will be accepted by other Americans who contribute to the $2.5 trillion dollars in consumer debt. And being a part of a group...is awesome.
Advantage #2 - Credit cards are ideal for removing the sticker off the $6.99 bottle of wine we brought to that house party in the Hamptons.
Advantage #3 - Coke addicts agree...using credit cards to separate cocaine into lines to snort is effective. And easy. Say goodbye to those pesky razor blade cut jagged lines.
There is one population that I feel "indebted" to mention before I exit this blog at a leisurely pace. Credit card collectors. They just push too hard for our payments on our debts owed. Plain and simple. They call too much and it just comes down too this: It's not sexy. If we haven't called you back, we're just not that into you. I'm under the impression that these collectors had no other choice but to be in this shit vocation because they are the worst offenders of consumer debt. Of the thankless careers, credit card collector is pretty much at the top of the list. Closely followed by toll booth agent, middle school substitute teacher and jerk booth cleaning lady at Adult Showorld. Triple X.
.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Day 275 - When the Laughter Stopped
May 10th, 2010
Most of us comedians choose our unsteady (yet rush inducing) profession because there are no other occupations that we could ever find ourselves competent, curious and content with.
Should there be a day when comedy went away, my soul would be marinating in a contaminated canal of despair (Brooklynites,think Gowanus.) Nothing to perform. Teach. Write. My life force would be stagnant.
I do find shame in acknowledging that I possess the unattractive attribute of snobbery that could prevent me from landing in a career that feels lesser than. Real or perceived. Again. Not proud.
If the laughter were to stop, I would have to suck up my pride and find an income drawing vocation that would allow me to continue to indulge in the items that I refuse to skimp on: Nice jeans, fancy coffee and high thread count bedding.
I consulted CNN, home of glamorized news, (wolfy) Wolf Blitzer and (ambiguously gay) Anderson Cooper, to find a a career where earnings are equal to or exceed men's.
I'm in trouble as I am frighteningly unsuitable for each and every one of these jobby jobs.
Here's why:
- Computer Software Engineer - I currently have a debilitating virus on my computer because I downloaded a picture that compared Dr. Phil to a porpoise. 'Nuff said.
- Human Resources Manager - I'm a sensitive flower. I don't want to fire people. I would cry.
Like a baby. That is little.
- Architect - In 7th grade art class, I started making a paper mache elephant that (unintentionally) ended up a frog. A frogaphant. If you will.
- Lawyer - I like the Law. But don't care for the Order.
- Pharmacist - I would do anything for my friends and family. Most of them are addicted to prescription drugs.
- Surgeon - These guys perform extremely precise, intricate movements during high risk procedures. OK. I'm animated. I knock things over. A lot. Also, have you seen my handwriting? No? There's a reason.
- Registered Nurse - 2 words: Bed Pans
- Psychologist - How would my patients respond when I say, "You're a little self absorbed when we spend our hour together. It's 'all about ' you.' No wonder you're single, unemployed and
addicted to neon vibrators. From used sex toy stores."
- Physical Therapist - I only like touching attractive people.
Most of us comedians choose our unsteady (yet rush inducing) profession because there are no other occupations that we could ever find ourselves competent, curious and content with.
Should there be a day when comedy went away, my soul would be marinating in a contaminated canal of despair (Brooklynites,think Gowanus.) Nothing to perform. Teach. Write. My life force would be stagnant.
I do find shame in acknowledging that I possess the unattractive attribute of snobbery that could prevent me from landing in a career that feels lesser than. Real or perceived. Again. Not proud.
If the laughter were to stop, I would have to suck up my pride and find an income drawing vocation that would allow me to continue to indulge in the items that I refuse to skimp on: Nice jeans, fancy coffee and high thread count bedding.
I consulted CNN, home of glamorized news, (wolfy) Wolf Blitzer and (ambiguously gay) Anderson Cooper, to find a a career where earnings are equal to or exceed men's.
I'm in trouble as I am frighteningly unsuitable for each and every one of these jobby jobs.
Here's why:
- Computer Software Engineer - I currently have a debilitating virus on my computer because I downloaded a picture that compared Dr. Phil to a porpoise. 'Nuff said.
- Human Resources Manager - I'm a sensitive flower. I don't want to fire people. I would cry.
Like a baby. That is little.
- Architect - In 7th grade art class, I started making a paper mache elephant that (unintentionally) ended up a frog. A frogaphant. If you will.
- Lawyer - I like the Law. But don't care for the Order.
- Pharmacist - I would do anything for my friends and family. Most of them are addicted to prescription drugs.
- Surgeon - These guys perform extremely precise, intricate movements during high risk procedures. OK. I'm animated. I knock things over. A lot. Also, have you seen my handwriting? No? There's a reason.
- Registered Nurse - 2 words: Bed Pans
- Psychologist - How would my patients respond when I say, "You're a little self absorbed when we spend our hour together. It's 'all about ' you.' No wonder you're single, unemployed and
addicted to neon vibrators. From used sex toy stores."
- Physical Therapist - I only like touching attractive people.
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Day 274 - Ask Jax - Part 12
May 9th, 2010
This is the 12th installment of my "Ask Jax" series. I'm open to answering any of your pressing inquiries. Any topic. I can't guarantee instant publication, but I will hold onto all questions and attempt to answer them at some point during my 365 day blog entry challenge. Remember there are no stupid questions. Just stupid people who ask questions.
What are the winning lottery numbers? - Julie Trell - San Francisco, California
Jax's answer - I'm ashamed to admit that my instincts with determining winning lottery numbers is not my forte. I had to outsource and logically turned to the 80's power pop-rock band, "TommyTutone". Wired with uncanny psychic intuition, they revealed the winning lottery numbers through the gift of song. The answer:"867-5309."
Prostate exam or Colonoscopy? - Mark Symmes - Baltimore Maryland
Jax's Answer - An anal probe from an alien named Fecalisese. From the planet Asswipidis.
Why are you so darn lovable? - Ruth Kabat Thomas - New York, New York
Jax's Answer - I only berate people (vehemently at length) behind their backs. In addition, I wear a cotton polyester blend t-shirt that reads, "Tell me I'm lovable. Or I will cut you."
How ironic is it that the 50th birthday of the birth control pill is on Mother's Day? - Kerry Schwarz, Boston, Massachusetts
Jax's Answer - Not as ironic as the anniversary of the one night stand being on Father's Day.
This is the 12th installment of my "Ask Jax" series. I'm open to answering any of your pressing inquiries. Any topic. I can't guarantee instant publication, but I will hold onto all questions and attempt to answer them at some point during my 365 day blog entry challenge. Remember there are no stupid questions. Just stupid people who ask questions.
What are the winning lottery numbers? - Julie Trell - San Francisco, California
Jax's answer - I'm ashamed to admit that my instincts with determining winning lottery numbers is not my forte. I had to outsource and logically turned to the 80's power pop-rock band, "TommyTutone". Wired with uncanny psychic intuition, they revealed the winning lottery numbers through the gift of song. The answer:"867-5309."
Prostate exam or Colonoscopy? - Mark Symmes - Baltimore Maryland
Jax's Answer - An anal probe from an alien named Fecalisese. From the planet Asswipidis.
Why are you so darn lovable? - Ruth Kabat Thomas - New York, New York
Jax's Answer - I only berate people (vehemently at length) behind their backs. In addition, I wear a cotton polyester blend t-shirt that reads, "Tell me I'm lovable. Or I will cut you."
How ironic is it that the 50th birthday of the birth control pill is on Mother's Day? - Kerry Schwarz, Boston, Massachusetts
Jax's Answer - Not as ironic as the anniversary of the one night stand being on Father's Day.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Day 273 - Cremation Consultant
May 8th, 2010
After surveying some of my past blog entries, it's become evident that I'm uninhibited with gushing the praises of Brooklyn. I don't apologize for my profoundly tender and passionate affection for my borough as I'm proud to express my emotional attachment to the surplus of interesting people, pleasing to the senses cuisine and a way of life that percolates with authenticity. Indeed, my accolades have been excessive...yet I've failed to mention one more attribute that warrants a bumper sticker that reads, "Brooklyn, it's a great place to die."
My "cease to exist" observation is not designed to be cryptic. Just factual. No Brooklynite can deny that there are an excessive number of funeral homes in our little piece of the world. So many, that it's fair to reason that for every Starbucks, there is a business that would be honored to spend some time with your dead body.
With so many establishments wanting to handle the particulars of our complete and permanent exit from the earth, I imagine the competition is extreme. Although I'm generally not a sucker for a hard sell, my attention was piqued by a sign outside a funeral home in Red Hook that advertised that they provide...Cremation Consultants.
Now I don't know much about the process in which a body is exposed to extreme heat and reduced to small skeletal fragments and minerals. For I am a Jew. My people just want to be buried in a wooden coffin and roll to Jerusalem. Plain and simple. And whimsically bizarre.
It's valid to assume that a cremation consultant would possess some skills to navigate me if my deceased loved-one wished to be placed in a furnace, reduced to his basic elements and placed on my mantle. Next to some swim team trophies from 1982.
My concern is this. I am not a fan of the word "consultant" for two reasons. First, the following scenario has presented itself numerous times upon meeting a stranger.
Me: What do you do?
Stranger: I'm a consultant.
(Lengthy awkward silence indicating that further inquiry should stop. Stat.)
The dead air leads me to interpret that a consultant is the millineum's new import/export business stock answer for all things forbidden by law.
Secondly, isn't a consultant just a failed expert?
Time to bring back my steadfast analogy for all things lesser than: Consultants are the Gary Busey to the Nick Nolte of experts.
If I enter your funeral home and you claim to be a cremation consultant, I will convince you the merits of changing your business card to "expert." This discussion will take place at the Starbucks next door. As we sip a latte. And embalming fluid.
After surveying some of my past blog entries, it's become evident that I'm uninhibited with gushing the praises of Brooklyn. I don't apologize for my profoundly tender and passionate affection for my borough as I'm proud to express my emotional attachment to the surplus of interesting people, pleasing to the senses cuisine and a way of life that percolates with authenticity. Indeed, my accolades have been excessive...yet I've failed to mention one more attribute that warrants a bumper sticker that reads, "Brooklyn, it's a great place to die."
My "cease to exist" observation is not designed to be cryptic. Just factual. No Brooklynite can deny that there are an excessive number of funeral homes in our little piece of the world. So many, that it's fair to reason that for every Starbucks, there is a business that would be honored to spend some time with your dead body.
With so many establishments wanting to handle the particulars of our complete and permanent exit from the earth, I imagine the competition is extreme. Although I'm generally not a sucker for a hard sell, my attention was piqued by a sign outside a funeral home in Red Hook that advertised that they provide...Cremation Consultants.
Now I don't know much about the process in which a body is exposed to extreme heat and reduced to small skeletal fragments and minerals. For I am a Jew. My people just want to be buried in a wooden coffin and roll to Jerusalem. Plain and simple. And whimsically bizarre.
It's valid to assume that a cremation consultant would possess some skills to navigate me if my deceased loved-one wished to be placed in a furnace, reduced to his basic elements and placed on my mantle. Next to some swim team trophies from 1982.
My concern is this. I am not a fan of the word "consultant" for two reasons. First, the following scenario has presented itself numerous times upon meeting a stranger.
Me: What do you do?
Stranger: I'm a consultant.
(Lengthy awkward silence indicating that further inquiry should stop. Stat.)
The dead air leads me to interpret that a consultant is the millineum's new import/export business stock answer for all things forbidden by law.
Secondly, isn't a consultant just a failed expert?
Time to bring back my steadfast analogy for all things lesser than: Consultants are the Gary Busey to the Nick Nolte of experts.
If I enter your funeral home and you claim to be a cremation consultant, I will convince you the merits of changing your business card to "expert." This discussion will take place at the Starbucks next door. As we sip a latte. And embalming fluid.
Friday, May 7, 2010
Day 272 - The Statue of Liberty. I Love That Bitch
May 7th, 2010
I mentioned in yesterday's breast intensive entry that my mother was visiting her favorite (and only) female offspring from South Carolina. Today we meandered over to Red Hook which I described on day 265 in my blog, "Come Sail Away With Me. Lads" ( http://jacquelinekabat.blogspot.com.2010/04/day-265-come-sail-away-with-me-lads.html) as "one of the oldest neighborhoods in New York that is recognized for being full of industrial charm, cobble stone streets and a highly regarded Fairway, Brooklyn’s 'it' grocery. Having a lifetime interest in all things water, Red Hook's harbor is what I find most stimulating. It’s gritty. It’s authentic. It’s Jax."
No visit to the neighborhood is complete without visiting Steve's Authentic Key Lime Pies (that surely inspires key lime enthusiasts to slip into a Halle Berry Oscar acceptance speech..."This moment is bigger than me..." )
Mom and I arrived at the conclusion that we should share a Swingle, a frozen chocolate-covered mini-key lime pie on a stick. As I was attacking the spicy tartness of the key lime pie filling, the crunch of the graham cracker crust and the perfectly balanced bittersweet chocolate, I was facing the New York harbor and being stared at by the Statue of Liberty.
Was she judging me for raping a key lime pie? I don't judge her. And she's French.
My unscrupulousness is in jest because I am of the opinion that we could be friends. Not only are we both statuesque, but we also represent beacons of freedom and hope to Americans since the 1800's.
I needed to know more about this iconic monument whose face bears the most firm and determined expression. Luckily, my team of imaginary friends are always nearby to service my needs. On multiple levels. Historians say that Lady Liberty's left hand holds a tablet with the date of the Declaration Of Independence engraved in Roman numerals. But my hallucinatory comrades arranged for me to have access to the "tell all" literature that she is really grasping. Her Diary.
Come curl up with me readers. Let's smoke a bowl and eat Hagan Daaz out of the carton while I familiarize you with a few "best of" findings in the journal of an unflappable steel lady with remarkable arm strength.
"I do feel as if I've age well and tourists are shocked to discover that I'm 124 years old. My secret: Oil of Olay Definity Deep Penetrating Foaming Moisturizer. It's unique aerated serum foam actively combats the look of skin discolorations to revitalize luminosity."
"I'm 22 stories high. 24 with heels"
"The torch was a real pleaser in the 20th century. But now...environmentalist cry that I'm abusing energy resources. After he invented the interweb, Al Gore just looked at me with disdain, crossed his arms and shook his head in disgust. Then he made out with Tipper."
"I would be devastated if anyone were to discover my promiscuous past. Not only do I feel shame from having 3000 people inside me every day, I also partook in undiscriminating sexcapades with The Lincoln Memorial, Michaleangelo's David and had an orgy with Mount Rushmore.Theodore Roosevelt gave me genital warts."
I mentioned in yesterday's breast intensive entry that my mother was visiting her favorite (and only) female offspring from South Carolina. Today we meandered over to Red Hook which I described on day 265 in my blog, "Come Sail Away With Me. Lads" ( http://jacquelinekabat.blogspot.com.2010/04/day-265-come-sail-away-with-me-lads.html) as "one of the oldest neighborhoods in New York that is recognized for being full of industrial charm, cobble stone streets and a highly regarded Fairway, Brooklyn’s 'it' grocery. Having a lifetime interest in all things water, Red Hook's harbor is what I find most stimulating. It’s gritty. It’s authentic. It’s Jax."
No visit to the neighborhood is complete without visiting Steve's Authentic Key Lime Pies (that surely inspires key lime enthusiasts to slip into a Halle Berry Oscar acceptance speech..."This moment is bigger than me..." )
Mom and I arrived at the conclusion that we should share a Swingle, a frozen chocolate-covered mini-key lime pie on a stick. As I was attacking the spicy tartness of the key lime pie filling, the crunch of the graham cracker crust and the perfectly balanced bittersweet chocolate, I was facing the New York harbor and being stared at by the Statue of Liberty.
Was she judging me for raping a key lime pie? I don't judge her. And she's French.
My unscrupulousness is in jest because I am of the opinion that we could be friends. Not only are we both statuesque, but we also represent beacons of freedom and hope to Americans since the 1800's.
I needed to know more about this iconic monument whose face bears the most firm and determined expression. Luckily, my team of imaginary friends are always nearby to service my needs. On multiple levels. Historians say that Lady Liberty's left hand holds a tablet with the date of the Declaration Of Independence engraved in Roman numerals. But my hallucinatory comrades arranged for me to have access to the "tell all" literature that she is really grasping. Her Diary.
Come curl up with me readers. Let's smoke a bowl and eat Hagan Daaz out of the carton while I familiarize you with a few "best of" findings in the journal of an unflappable steel lady with remarkable arm strength.
"I do feel as if I've age well and tourists are shocked to discover that I'm 124 years old. My secret: Oil of Olay Definity Deep Penetrating Foaming Moisturizer. It's unique aerated serum foam actively combats the look of skin discolorations to revitalize luminosity."
"I'm 22 stories high. 24 with heels"
"The torch was a real pleaser in the 20th century. But now...environmentalist cry that I'm abusing energy resources. After he invented the interweb, Al Gore just looked at me with disdain, crossed his arms and shook his head in disgust. Then he made out with Tipper."
"I would be devastated if anyone were to discover my promiscuous past. Not only do I feel shame from having 3000 people inside me every day, I also partook in undiscriminating sexcapades with The Lincoln Memorial, Michaleangelo's David and had an orgy with Mount Rushmore.Theodore Roosevelt gave me genital warts."
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Day 271 - Bra Savants
May 6th, 2010
My mom is in town from Charleston, South Carolina for Mother's Day. Ya know.. to spend a little time with the blogger that came out of her body.
In just a few hours, we've voyaged to Coney Island, eaten like people much fatter than we are and partook in an activity that is unquestionably exclusive to New York. Bra buying. Mom wants the best for me so I'm inclined to hypothesize that her mindset is the following: "No daughter of mine will have a sub par displayed boobage."
Earlier today, we paid a visit to a boutique Brooklyn lingerie store and a stunning strapless bra caught my attention. I took it to the dressing room, tried it on and called in the only person who I could trust to analyze my chest display with an honest yay or nay. No. Not mom...the youngish attractive woman who worked at the store of negligees and male fantasies.
Here's the thing...when purchasing bras, any inkling of modesty goes out the window. I was in no way, shape or form((fitting) bashful that a stranger was rather intimately lifting and separating my boobs. While I was being molested, I became disappointed that her hands were occupied because she earned herself a high five for her strong aptitude for arranging the mystical world of mammary glands.
And now...a segue...
One of the most TITillating bra buying excursions that I've experienced (since puberty gave me 2 additional body parts) was visiting Orchard Corset on the Lower East Side. Ralph Berk, the shop's middle-aged Orthodox Jew proprietor, has an unprecedented talent and accuracy for sizing up the ta-ta size of fully clothed women. With one glance, he handed me the perfect bra that inspired me to say, "I'm proud to be a woman today!" I would highly recommend that Berk open up a brother store down the street. Orchard Jock Straps.
Note to Victoria's Secret employees. This guy(who I assume is Yentle's father) is the Ivy League to your community college. Keep your day job. Oh that is your day job? I am ashamed.
My mom is in town from Charleston, South Carolina for Mother's Day. Ya know.. to spend a little time with the blogger that came out of her body.
In just a few hours, we've voyaged to Coney Island, eaten like people much fatter than we are and partook in an activity that is unquestionably exclusive to New York. Bra buying. Mom wants the best for me so I'm inclined to hypothesize that her mindset is the following: "No daughter of mine will have a sub par displayed boobage."
Earlier today, we paid a visit to a boutique Brooklyn lingerie store and a stunning strapless bra caught my attention. I took it to the dressing room, tried it on and called in the only person who I could trust to analyze my chest display with an honest yay or nay. No. Not mom...the youngish attractive woman who worked at the store of negligees and male fantasies.
Here's the thing...when purchasing bras, any inkling of modesty goes out the window. I was in no way, shape or form((fitting) bashful that a stranger was rather intimately lifting and separating my boobs. While I was being molested, I became disappointed that her hands were occupied because she earned herself a high five for her strong aptitude for arranging the mystical world of mammary glands.
And now...a segue...
One of the most TITillating bra buying excursions that I've experienced (since puberty gave me 2 additional body parts) was visiting Orchard Corset on the Lower East Side. Ralph Berk, the shop's middle-aged Orthodox Jew proprietor, has an unprecedented talent and accuracy for sizing up the ta-ta size of fully clothed women. With one glance, he handed me the perfect bra that inspired me to say, "I'm proud to be a woman today!" I would highly recommend that Berk open up a brother store down the street. Orchard Jock Straps.
Note to Victoria's Secret employees. This guy(who I assume is Yentle's father) is the Ivy League to your community college. Keep your day job. Oh that is your day job? I am ashamed.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Day 270 - Cro-Magnum, Zamfir and a Damsel in Distress
May 5th, 2010
I have a virus on my computer that's the result of downloading a picture of Dr.Phil being compared to a porpoise.Was it worth it? Kind of.
Don't judge me. I don't judge you. To your face.
I was searching for the perfect picture to attach to yesterday's blog entry("Enablers Are Really Just Special Givers") about Dr.Phil's evil alternative universe twin brother. Dr.Fil. http://jacquelinekabat.blogspot.com/2010/05/day-268-enablers-are-really-just.html. My instincts tell me that destruction wouldn't have ensued if I had just gone with the picture of Dr. Phil making out with Oprah on the couch that Tom Cruise attacked.
I don't mean to minimize my distress because I am experiencing slight nausea caused by my computer expressing rather undesirable signs of nonperformance. So far I've remained in mediocre spirits while being soothed by visualizations of the worthless scare of the millennium Y2K fiasco that inspired an Off Broadway play entitled, "Y2K. You're OK".
At this very moment, my "electronic device designed to accept data, perform prescribed mathematical and logical operations at high speed, and display the results of these operations" is being serviced. In an appropriate way. Luckily, my neighborhood friend is a master of the computer. Much like Zamfir is the master of the pan flute. He prefers that I not mention his name on the interweb so I grant his wish to be referred to by his code name.Cro-Magnum.
I assume you're asking, "But Jax! I don't understand! Where are you writing from now!?"
I'm scared. Confused. Need to be held. And not in an appropriate way." Simmer down child. I'm blessed with friends who have my back during times of mechanical distress. Mind you, I'm on on day 270 of my 365 day blog entry challenge...I have no other choice other than being the MacGyver of finding alternative resources of getting my manipulated perceptions into the blogosphere. I have committed to writing for you. The people. And maybe some literary agents that will validate that I possess a smidge of talent. And good hair.
Today's entry was brought to you by another friend's PC who was kind enough to lend me his computer while I'm separated from my life force with a keyboard. He doesn't require to remain anonymous...but for no apparent reason I'd like to refer to him as Zamfir.
Is there porn on here? Oh yes. This guy. Total perv.Who appears to have an affinity for disobedient Latina contortionists .
I have a virus on my computer that's the result of downloading a picture of Dr.Phil being compared to a porpoise.Was it worth it? Kind of.
Don't judge me. I don't judge you. To your face.
I was searching for the perfect picture to attach to yesterday's blog entry("Enablers Are Really Just Special Givers") about Dr.Phil's evil alternative universe twin brother. Dr.Fil. http://jacquelinekabat.blogspot.com/2010/05/day-268-enablers-are-really-just.html. My instincts tell me that destruction wouldn't have ensued if I had just gone with the picture of Dr. Phil making out with Oprah on the couch that Tom Cruise attacked.
I don't mean to minimize my distress because I am experiencing slight nausea caused by my computer expressing rather undesirable signs of nonperformance. So far I've remained in mediocre spirits while being soothed by visualizations of the worthless scare of the millennium Y2K fiasco that inspired an Off Broadway play entitled, "Y2K. You're OK".
At this very moment, my "electronic device designed to accept data, perform prescribed mathematical and logical operations at high speed, and display the results of these operations" is being serviced. In an appropriate way. Luckily, my neighborhood friend is a master of the computer. Much like Zamfir is the master of the pan flute. He prefers that I not mention his name on the interweb so I grant his wish to be referred to by his code name.Cro-Magnum.
I assume you're asking, "But Jax! I don't understand! Where are you writing from now!?"
I'm scared. Confused. Need to be held. And not in an appropriate way." Simmer down child. I'm blessed with friends who have my back during times of mechanical distress. Mind you, I'm on on day 270 of my 365 day blog entry challenge...I have no other choice other than being the MacGyver of finding alternative resources of getting my manipulated perceptions into the blogosphere. I have committed to writing for you. The people. And maybe some literary agents that will validate that I possess a smidge of talent. And good hair.
Today's entry was brought to you by another friend's PC who was kind enough to lend me his computer while I'm separated from my life force with a keyboard. He doesn't require to remain anonymous...but for no apparent reason I'd like to refer to him as Zamfir.
Is there porn on here? Oh yes. This guy. Total perv.Who appears to have an affinity for disobedient Latina contortionists .
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Day 269 - Enablers Are Really Just Special Givers
May 4th, 2010
Oprah Winfrey - American television host, producer, philanthropist, provider of an unfortunate couch. That Tom cruise destroyed.
But no contribution to the world has been more treasured than Ms. Winfrey birthing the esteemed career of Dr. Phil. His PHD from the prestigious North Texas State University, radiant bald head and child molesting moustache has galvanized millions of people to "get real", heal and get a hold of those coveted 15 minutes of fame on his syndicated daytime talk show.
Oh good doctor, the tides are about to turn. There’s been a remarkable discovery (in my head.) My team of imaginary handlers have learned that Dr. Phil has a long lost evil twin. Dr. Fil. From an alternative universe. Unfortunately, the “lesser than” Fil was sent to another dimension by his lesbian mothers(Phyllis 1 and Phyllis 2.) They were repulsed that he didn’t possess Phil ‘s striking good looks. And was born without an index finger. And Anus.
In my effort to have a blog topic for today, I arranged for Fil to return to earth on a meteor (disguised as a Jet Blue aircraft.) Alternative Universe Dr. Fil has only one mission. Destroy the empire that his estranged brother has created. In his soon to be released literary masterpiece,“How to Shatter the Lives of the People You Love”, Evil Fil refutes the well intended advice that his brother has soothingly bequeathed unto bored housewives.
Let’s visit a blurb from Chapter 13 entitled, “Enablers Are Really Just Special Givers”.
Dr. Fil tells us, “My douche brother claims ‘an enabler is acting out of a sincere sense of love, loyalty and concern, steps in to protect, cover up for, make excuses for and become more responsible for the chemically dependent person. This can prevent the chemically dependent individual from the crisis that might bring about change, and thereby prolong his/her illness.’ Phil, you’re a dick and if I had an anus, I’d shit all over you. Below are the common enabling behaviors that my brother discusses. I’d like to counter with why you should in no way alter your admirable enabling behaviors."
Dr. Phil - Enabling behavior - Avoiding problems by trying to keep the peace. Believing that a lack of conflict will solve problems.
Dr. Fil - Keep avoiding the problems soldier. The conflict could lead to a nasty physical brawl with the addict. And you won’t win because you stopped doing Pilates and put on those extra 15 pounds. Just remember… the next time you have the urge to take hold of a Hostess Cinnamon Streusel, consider telling yourself “A moment on the lips.. an eternity on the hips.”
Dr. Phil - Enabling behavior - Feeling superior; treating the dependent person like a child.
Dr. Fil – You’re the best. And don’t you forget it. Treating the person like a child? You know whose commendably nurturing? You are.
Dr. Phil - Enabling behavior - Denying that the person is using drugs or is chemically dependent.
Dr. Fil - "Denial is not just a river in Egypt". It’s what makes you lovable.
Dr. Phil - Enabling behavior - Keeping your feelings inside.
Dr. Fil - Nothing screams self control like the ability to hold your emotions in. I salute you. And so does the person you’re enabling. Sure, you could die an early death due to the physical and psychological ramifications of holding in your feelings.... but who wants to live to be 100 anyways? And deal with incontinence?
Dr. Phil - Enabling behavior - Telling Yourself. "This too shall pass."
Dr. Fil – You don’t want it to pass! If the dependent person recovers, you’re left with nothing to do. Bored. Without a purpose. Unemployed enablers are not subsidized by the government. Yet.
This book is Jax approved. I’ve been enabling for years. Never been happier.
Oprah Winfrey - American television host, producer, philanthropist, provider of an unfortunate couch. That Tom cruise destroyed.
But no contribution to the world has been more treasured than Ms. Winfrey birthing the esteemed career of Dr. Phil. His PHD from the prestigious North Texas State University, radiant bald head and child molesting moustache has galvanized millions of people to "get real", heal and get a hold of those coveted 15 minutes of fame on his syndicated daytime talk show.
Oh good doctor, the tides are about to turn. There’s been a remarkable discovery (in my head.) My team of imaginary handlers have learned that Dr. Phil has a long lost evil twin. Dr. Fil. From an alternative universe. Unfortunately, the “lesser than” Fil was sent to another dimension by his lesbian mothers(Phyllis 1 and Phyllis 2.) They were repulsed that he didn’t possess Phil ‘s striking good looks. And was born without an index finger. And Anus.
In my effort to have a blog topic for today, I arranged for Fil to return to earth on a meteor (disguised as a Jet Blue aircraft.) Alternative Universe Dr. Fil has only one mission. Destroy the empire that his estranged brother has created. In his soon to be released literary masterpiece,“How to Shatter the Lives of the People You Love”, Evil Fil refutes the well intended advice that his brother has soothingly bequeathed unto bored housewives.
Let’s visit a blurb from Chapter 13 entitled, “Enablers Are Really Just Special Givers”.
Dr. Fil tells us, “My douche brother claims ‘an enabler is acting out of a sincere sense of love, loyalty and concern, steps in to protect, cover up for, make excuses for and become more responsible for the chemically dependent person. This can prevent the chemically dependent individual from the crisis that might bring about change, and thereby prolong his/her illness.’ Phil, you’re a dick and if I had an anus, I’d shit all over you. Below are the common enabling behaviors that my brother discusses. I’d like to counter with why you should in no way alter your admirable enabling behaviors."
Dr. Phil - Enabling behavior - Avoiding problems by trying to keep the peace. Believing that a lack of conflict will solve problems.
Dr. Fil - Keep avoiding the problems soldier. The conflict could lead to a nasty physical brawl with the addict. And you won’t win because you stopped doing Pilates and put on those extra 15 pounds. Just remember… the next time you have the urge to take hold of a Hostess Cinnamon Streusel, consider telling yourself “A moment on the lips.. an eternity on the hips.”
Dr. Phil - Enabling behavior - Feeling superior; treating the dependent person like a child.
Dr. Fil – You’re the best. And don’t you forget it. Treating the person like a child? You know whose commendably nurturing? You are.
Dr. Phil - Enabling behavior - Denying that the person is using drugs or is chemically dependent.
Dr. Fil - "Denial is not just a river in Egypt". It’s what makes you lovable.
Dr. Phil - Enabling behavior - Keeping your feelings inside.
Dr. Fil - Nothing screams self control like the ability to hold your emotions in. I salute you. And so does the person you’re enabling. Sure, you could die an early death due to the physical and psychological ramifications of holding in your feelings.... but who wants to live to be 100 anyways? And deal with incontinence?
Dr. Phil - Enabling behavior - Telling Yourself. "This too shall pass."
Dr. Fil – You don’t want it to pass! If the dependent person recovers, you’re left with nothing to do. Bored. Without a purpose. Unemployed enablers are not subsidized by the government. Yet.
This book is Jax approved. I’ve been enabling for years. Never been happier.
Monday, May 3, 2010
Day 268 - Insane Movie Night
May 3rd, 2010
(Setting: All the mental disorders have been invited to Narcissistic Personality’s house for movie night. The doorbell rings. Narcissistic opens the door. Bipolar enters.)
Narcissistic– Bipolar! Really glad you could make it.
Bipolar (Manic and talking fast) I’m really excited to be here! I love movie night! Hug me Narcissistic!
Narcissistic – Only if you verify my personal adequacy, power and prestige….
(Both laugh)
Bipolar – You know how charming I find your self-centeredness.
(They Hug)
Narcissistic – Come on in. Depression is crying on the couch, Obsessive Compulsive is alphabetizing my CD’s and Bulimia’s in the bathroom.
Bipolar - (to Depression) Hey Depression! Thanks for letting me hang with you last week. I was feeling really low. But now I feel awesome!
Depression – (lethargic) You’re a fair weathered friend Bipolar. Blowing me off has just triggered more self-loathing, feelings of worthlessness and loss of interest in daily activities. That I once found pleasurable. But don’t sweat it. It’s cool.
Bipolar – Great!
(Tries to high five Depression. Left hanging)
(Doorbell rings)
Narcissistic - (yells) Come In!
Paranoid Disorder - (enters and speaks sarcastically) Is someone talking about me?
(All laugh)
Bipolar – I thought you were coming with Agoraphobia?
Paranoid - He backed out. Probably because of me.
(Bulimia walks out of the bathroom)
Obsessive Compulsive Disorder – Finally, I need to wash my hands. God knows what kind of germs and fecal matter are on these CD’s. (walks to bathroom.) See you 30 minutes. Maybe 45.
Bipolar – Bulimia! You look fantastic! I mean…really great!
Narcissistic – You do. Almost as good as me.
Bulimia – Thanks guys. I’ve been training hard and I’m almost at my goal weight. Of zero.
Bipolar – Incredible!
Narcissistic - I hate to be the bearer of bad news but Schizophrenia won’t be joining us. She tried online dating on Losing Your Mind Match.com. She ended up falling in love with a rich Antipsychotic Drug with a weird name. Something like Trifluoperazine. She’s sane now.
Bulimia – (stuffing her face with popcorn and chocolate)That's too bad. I’ll miss Schizophrenia’s nonsensical commentary on movie nights. Can we get started? I’m on a strict schedule. I have an appointment with the toilet in a bit.
Narcissistic - Sure. I have a few choices…"The Deer Hunter”, “Terms of Endearment” and “Bambi”. I really do pick the best heartbreaking, distressing and dismal movies….
Depression – Nice selection Narcissistic. But I feel the best way to keep our spirits frightened, low and psychotic would be to watch the news.
(There is a brief silence…then all the mental illnesses look at each other while nodding their heads in agreement)
Bipolar - Depression, that’s a great idea!
Narcissistic – I know. Sounds like something I would come up with.
Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (yelling from the bathroom) - Go with CNN! Anderson Cooper looks really clean!
Narcissistic - Good choice. Bonus that I have a strong feeling that one of us will be visiting Wolf Blitzer soon. Perfect vulnerable target. He looks like a wolf. That will fuck him up.
(All agree. Lights go out. News comes on)
THE END
(Setting: All the mental disorders have been invited to Narcissistic Personality’s house for movie night. The doorbell rings. Narcissistic opens the door. Bipolar enters.)
Narcissistic– Bipolar! Really glad you could make it.
Bipolar (Manic and talking fast) I’m really excited to be here! I love movie night! Hug me Narcissistic!
Narcissistic – Only if you verify my personal adequacy, power and prestige….
(Both laugh)
Bipolar – You know how charming I find your self-centeredness.
(They Hug)
Narcissistic – Come on in. Depression is crying on the couch, Obsessive Compulsive is alphabetizing my CD’s and Bulimia’s in the bathroom.
Bipolar - (to Depression) Hey Depression! Thanks for letting me hang with you last week. I was feeling really low. But now I feel awesome!
Depression – (lethargic) You’re a fair weathered friend Bipolar. Blowing me off has just triggered more self-loathing, feelings of worthlessness and loss of interest in daily activities. That I once found pleasurable. But don’t sweat it. It’s cool.
Bipolar – Great!
(Tries to high five Depression. Left hanging)
(Doorbell rings)
Narcissistic - (yells) Come In!
Paranoid Disorder - (enters and speaks sarcastically) Is someone talking about me?
(All laugh)
Bipolar – I thought you were coming with Agoraphobia?
Paranoid - He backed out. Probably because of me.
(Bulimia walks out of the bathroom)
Obsessive Compulsive Disorder – Finally, I need to wash my hands. God knows what kind of germs and fecal matter are on these CD’s. (walks to bathroom.) See you 30 minutes. Maybe 45.
Bipolar – Bulimia! You look fantastic! I mean…really great!
Narcissistic – You do. Almost as good as me.
Bulimia – Thanks guys. I’ve been training hard and I’m almost at my goal weight. Of zero.
Bipolar – Incredible!
Narcissistic - I hate to be the bearer of bad news but Schizophrenia won’t be joining us. She tried online dating on Losing Your Mind Match.com. She ended up falling in love with a rich Antipsychotic Drug with a weird name. Something like Trifluoperazine. She’s sane now.
Bulimia – (stuffing her face with popcorn and chocolate)That's too bad. I’ll miss Schizophrenia’s nonsensical commentary on movie nights. Can we get started? I’m on a strict schedule. I have an appointment with the toilet in a bit.
Narcissistic - Sure. I have a few choices…"The Deer Hunter”, “Terms of Endearment” and “Bambi”. I really do pick the best heartbreaking, distressing and dismal movies….
Depression – Nice selection Narcissistic. But I feel the best way to keep our spirits frightened, low and psychotic would be to watch the news.
(There is a brief silence…then all the mental illnesses look at each other while nodding their heads in agreement)
Bipolar - Depression, that’s a great idea!
Narcissistic – I know. Sounds like something I would come up with.
Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (yelling from the bathroom) - Go with CNN! Anderson Cooper looks really clean!
Narcissistic - Good choice. Bonus that I have a strong feeling that one of us will be visiting Wolf Blitzer soon. Perfect vulnerable target. He looks like a wolf. That will fuck him up.
(All agree. Lights go out. News comes on)
THE END
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Day 267 – Drunk off Success. And Arson
May 2nd, 2010
• WALT DISNEY was fired by a newspaper editor because "he lacked imagination and had no good ideas."
• ALBERT EINSTEIN didn’t speak until he was 4-years-old and didn’t read until he was 7. His parents thought he was "sub-normal," and he was expelled from school because his teachers described him as "mentally slow, unsociable and adrift forever in foolish dreams."
• MARILYN MONROE was told by the director of the Blue Book Modeling Agency, "You'd better learn secretarial work or else get married."
• At JERRY SEINFELD’s first professional stand-up show, he froze and stumbled through "a minute-and a half" of material and was jeered offstage.
• MICHAEL JORDAN was cut from his high school basketball team. Jordan has said, "I've failed over and over again in my life. That is why I succeed."
I credit these celebrated legends because they made a conscious choice not to let the fear of failure discourage their perseverance. They chose not to halt their efforts and ultimately achieved wild success. I’d also like to praise them for not swimming in another paralyzing phobia. Fear of success. Many of us fear actively pursuing our dreams because it tests our limits, makes us vulnerable to new opportunities and can expose weaknesses that force us to deal with our flaws.
On day 201, I wrote an entry entitled, “Cow Hoof Trimmer”. I wrote of seemingly eccentric careers that we’d have to settle for during these bleak economic times. My apologies. To you. To me. To us. I sense that I might have been snobbish, insensitive and unaware of the actuality that some of you (and even me) might crave these job opportunities… but haven’t reached our life’s purpose because of our debilitating fear of success. I want to help us overcome what’s holding us back. I have come up with powerfully effective affirmations that are sure to manifest the dream jobs that I mentioned on day 201.
Heads up. The following are real careers. I couldn’t make this shit up.
1. Odor Tester (We can be a chemist who smells deodorants to make sure they have the pedigree odor that is worthy of coming in contact with our armpits.)
Affirmation: “I can smell a Taco Bell Chimichanga while being submerged under water. In an above ground pool. I have a gift. And I am sharing it."
2. Waste Station Worker (We get to work with other people’s shit. Literally.)
Affirmation – "I offer my uniquely creative talents and abilities to take pleasure in waste products from an animal's digestive tract expelled through the anus.”
3. Fortune Cookie Writer
Affirmation – “I love what I do and I do what I love. Even if I have little to no command of the English language.”
4. Professional Whistler
Affirmation – “Even though I was born with no mouth, thinking outside of the box leads me to create sound by controlling a stream of air flowing through another orifice.”
5. Snake Milker (We would be responsible for getting the venom out of snakes to make the anti-venom.)
Affirmation - "I'm worth it. I deserve to remove poisonous secretion from elongated, legless and carnivorous reptiles. Especially when they’re on a plane. With Samuel L. Jackson.”
6. Cow Hoof Trimmer
Affirmation – “Giving cows a pedicure is exactly right for my needs. And the needs of cows. They deserve the opportunity to wear open toed shoes.”
7. Ostrich Babysitter (We would sit in a field full of ostrich and make sure that they didn't peck each other to death or get stolen.)
Affirmation- “Even though I stole an ostrich (and pecked it to death) during fraternity hazing, I now possess a strong sense of self, values and ethics to protect large flightless bird. Which, by the way, are delicious “
8. Adult Store Attendant (We would get to clean up the booths where clientele "test" the pornographic merchandise.)
Affirmation – "I rejoice in knowing that pleasure was received. I’m meant to partner with multi-surface cleansers to get that streak free shine.”
9. Forest Fire Lookout (We would sit in a tower looking for fires.)
Affirmation – “I am responsible for all the Los angles fires so I have inside knowledge as to where to locate deadly blazes. I am capable. Why? Because I’m drunk. Drunk off arson!”
10. Lawyer
"I am a money magnet and prosperity is drawn to me even though I’m widely despised, predatory and lack a moral code. Friends are drawn to me because I am a powerful entity that can get them out of parking tickets. I’m awesome.”
• WALT DISNEY was fired by a newspaper editor because "he lacked imagination and had no good ideas."
• ALBERT EINSTEIN didn’t speak until he was 4-years-old and didn’t read until he was 7. His parents thought he was "sub-normal," and he was expelled from school because his teachers described him as "mentally slow, unsociable and adrift forever in foolish dreams."
• MARILYN MONROE was told by the director of the Blue Book Modeling Agency, "You'd better learn secretarial work or else get married."
• At JERRY SEINFELD’s first professional stand-up show, he froze and stumbled through "a minute-and a half" of material and was jeered offstage.
• MICHAEL JORDAN was cut from his high school basketball team. Jordan has said, "I've failed over and over again in my life. That is why I succeed."
I credit these celebrated legends because they made a conscious choice not to let the fear of failure discourage their perseverance. They chose not to halt their efforts and ultimately achieved wild success. I’d also like to praise them for not swimming in another paralyzing phobia. Fear of success. Many of us fear actively pursuing our dreams because it tests our limits, makes us vulnerable to new opportunities and can expose weaknesses that force us to deal with our flaws.
On day 201, I wrote an entry entitled, “Cow Hoof Trimmer”. I wrote of seemingly eccentric careers that we’d have to settle for during these bleak economic times. My apologies. To you. To me. To us. I sense that I might have been snobbish, insensitive and unaware of the actuality that some of you (and even me) might crave these job opportunities… but haven’t reached our life’s purpose because of our debilitating fear of success. I want to help us overcome what’s holding us back. I have come up with powerfully effective affirmations that are sure to manifest the dream jobs that I mentioned on day 201.
Heads up. The following are real careers. I couldn’t make this shit up.
1. Odor Tester (We can be a chemist who smells deodorants to make sure they have the pedigree odor that is worthy of coming in contact with our armpits.)
Affirmation: “I can smell a Taco Bell Chimichanga while being submerged under water. In an above ground pool. I have a gift. And I am sharing it."
2. Waste Station Worker (We get to work with other people’s shit. Literally.)
Affirmation – "I offer my uniquely creative talents and abilities to take pleasure in waste products from an animal's digestive tract expelled through the anus.”
3. Fortune Cookie Writer
Affirmation – “I love what I do and I do what I love. Even if I have little to no command of the English language.”
4. Professional Whistler
Affirmation – “Even though I was born with no mouth, thinking outside of the box leads me to create sound by controlling a stream of air flowing through another orifice.”
5. Snake Milker (We would be responsible for getting the venom out of snakes to make the anti-venom.)
Affirmation - "I'm worth it. I deserve to remove poisonous secretion from elongated, legless and carnivorous reptiles. Especially when they’re on a plane. With Samuel L. Jackson.”
6. Cow Hoof Trimmer
Affirmation – “Giving cows a pedicure is exactly right for my needs. And the needs of cows. They deserve the opportunity to wear open toed shoes.”
7. Ostrich Babysitter (We would sit in a field full of ostrich and make sure that they didn't peck each other to death or get stolen.)
Affirmation- “Even though I stole an ostrich (and pecked it to death) during fraternity hazing, I now possess a strong sense of self, values and ethics to protect large flightless bird. Which, by the way, are delicious “
8. Adult Store Attendant (We would get to clean up the booths where clientele "test" the pornographic merchandise.)
Affirmation – "I rejoice in knowing that pleasure was received. I’m meant to partner with multi-surface cleansers to get that streak free shine.”
9. Forest Fire Lookout (We would sit in a tower looking for fires.)
Affirmation – “I am responsible for all the Los angles fires so I have inside knowledge as to where to locate deadly blazes. I am capable. Why? Because I’m drunk. Drunk off arson!”
10. Lawyer
"I am a money magnet and prosperity is drawn to me even though I’m widely despised, predatory and lack a moral code. Friends are drawn to me because I am a powerful entity that can get them out of parking tickets. I’m awesome.”
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Day 266 - No Wire Hangers
May 1st, 2010
I’ve always had the opinion that there are 2 types of people in this world. They’re not divided between those who are smart or stupid, rich or poor or Democrat or the other one. We all fall into one of the two categories: People who can hang. And people who cannot.
Seldom do I sing my own praises, but I will now. I sense that I fall into the former category as my dad always said that if I could make money for making friends...I would be very rich. Yay me.
Perhaps you are unsure which category that you fall into. Help me help you.
Have you found yourself in any of the following situations?
(Location - A small party in a Manhattan apartment. Nice view. Crudités. Medium priced Merlot.)
• You’re feeling adventurous and come to the decision that it would be wise to be exploratory and combine LSD, tranquilizers, amphetamines, hashish and Children’s Tylenol. This is followed by locking yourself in the one bathroom…shaking, vomiting and being berated by the voices in your head. In Dutch. The other party goers are left with only one option. Piss off the balcony.
• You have no interest in the other guests. You only talk about yourself. And not even interesting material. People have little to no interest that you have the gift of being able to lodge a cashew in your nostril for 12 hours.
• Due to your debilitating obsessive germaphobe compulsion, you wear yellow garden gloves while shaking party goers' hands.
• You feel everyone teams up against you when they're curious about your 6th toe. ..You run out the door in an angry huff. And then come back to steal the host’s cat. You leave again.
• You decide that you have the gift of managing the music selection. You just assume, "Who wouldn’t want to listen to Yanni, Jermaine Jackson and a Michael Crichton book on tape?"
Sorry to say, you are in the dreaded cannot hang category if you replied affirmative to any of these scenarios with “Yes! Yes! That’s me Jax. Hold me. And never let me go!” Come here you. I’m a softy. Blessing and a curse.
I’ve always had the opinion that there are 2 types of people in this world. They’re not divided between those who are smart or stupid, rich or poor or Democrat or the other one. We all fall into one of the two categories: People who can hang. And people who cannot.
Seldom do I sing my own praises, but I will now. I sense that I fall into the former category as my dad always said that if I could make money for making friends...I would be very rich. Yay me.
Perhaps you are unsure which category that you fall into. Help me help you.
Have you found yourself in any of the following situations?
(Location - A small party in a Manhattan apartment. Nice view. Crudités. Medium priced Merlot.)
• You’re feeling adventurous and come to the decision that it would be wise to be exploratory and combine LSD, tranquilizers, amphetamines, hashish and Children’s Tylenol. This is followed by locking yourself in the one bathroom…shaking, vomiting and being berated by the voices in your head. In Dutch. The other party goers are left with only one option. Piss off the balcony.
• You have no interest in the other guests. You only talk about yourself. And not even interesting material. People have little to no interest that you have the gift of being able to lodge a cashew in your nostril for 12 hours.
• Due to your debilitating obsessive germaphobe compulsion, you wear yellow garden gloves while shaking party goers' hands.
• You feel everyone teams up against you when they're curious about your 6th toe. ..You run out the door in an angry huff. And then come back to steal the host’s cat. You leave again.
• You decide that you have the gift of managing the music selection. You just assume, "Who wouldn’t want to listen to Yanni, Jermaine Jackson and a Michael Crichton book on tape?"
Sorry to say, you are in the dreaded cannot hang category if you replied affirmative to any of these scenarios with “Yes! Yes! That’s me Jax. Hold me. And never let me go!” Come here you. I’m a softy. Blessing and a curse.
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