It's a bird, it's a plane...

Everyone loves a surprise. You get all your security deposit back on your old apartment, your hoopdi is suddenly worth $3500 when you bought it for $1500 thanks to cash for clunkers. But sometimes, it is the little surprises that not everyone likes.

I am a regular pooper. None of that 'Oh shit I have to shit' in the afternoon crap. It comes down the pipe after I walk my dogs and smoke my first cigarette in the morning. Like clockwork people, it's great.

But this morning, that wasn't the case.

I was halfway around the block when I felt an uncomfortable cramping in my stomach. The kind where you think 'Oh shit I have to shit NOW' and begin panic and clench mode. I tried to walk it off and let out a little toot to ease the pain and suffering. Only the toot came with a little frootie. Yes, it's a bird, it's a plane...no Julie, it is a little morsel of feces.

No big deal. It has happened before once. The story of the induction to the Shart Club is below.

I had been dating this super hot dude name Mike for about 2 months. I slept over at his house after a long night of drinking and partying. As most of you know, the morning after farts the catalysts from the hungover nausea you will be feeling the rest of the day. Knowing this, I was desperately trying to hold in a few sheet-busters, when it finally became too painful I quietly got out of bed, quietly shut the door, and made a beeline for the bathroom. On the way to the pot, I was tooting up a storm.

When I finally got to Mecca, I found a little morsel in my underpants. WHAT! Instead of shock and embarassment, I was really excited. I felt like I now belonged to some uber-nasty secret club. I did my biz, and ran in to tell Mike the good news.

He looked sleepily at me, frowned and told me to sleep in the guest bedroom.

Eh. At least I belong now.

FU Pigeon Feeder - Round 2

Ahhh, Thursday. One day before Friday and one day after hump day. My company has been taunting me with a new Blackberry Curve, and it was confirmed Wednesday that I would be getting it today. As silly as it sounds, getting a new Blackberry that is in clear working order really made me want to wake up and greet the day.

I wake up, stretch it out yoga-style and decide to let the light shine on me. I open my heavy thermal blinds (proof I may or may not be a vampire) and shortly after I hear a sound that is all too familiar. The deafening roar of the winged crusaders - pigeons. You know it is never a good sign when you can hear your death coming before you see it.

Please note that I was in my bedroom, which, as you may remember from a previous post, looks out upon an alleyway / parking lot. I peeked out my blinds - too frightened to open them all the way - and to my horror and disdain, there they were. Winged devils. Lucifer's messengers. God's aviary mistakes. Dining on hamburger buns. One was flapping his wings in the most possessively demonic manner and sent shudders up and down my spine. I also saw one and managed to snap a quick PHO-TO:



I did not see who the culprit was, so I am not sure if it was the same gnarly woman as the previous post. This criminal left hamburger buns instead of generic Wonderbread, so it was most likely a one-off job or a double conspiracy.

Denver, I ask you, why? Why is it necessary to feed these heathens? They serve no purpose. They hardly ever die, and when they do it is a blessing to us all and most likely never due to starvation.

Instead of complain, I am going to take action. Please see below for details:



Alka Seltzer mixes with the bacteria killers in a pigeons (and seagulls) stomach. It fizzes and causes them to explode. (Demonic grin).

I wouldn't do that, but push me and you'll at least be gassy.

Death to pigeons.

To Stretch or not to Stretch

My friend Jess is probably the most self-less girlfriend I have ever had. She could tell I was starting to wear a bit thin, so she decided to use some of her spa gift certificates and treat me to my first massage ever. To try to show my appreciation back her, I took her to a kitschy neighborhood sushi bar. We are girlfriends, we love and spoil each other to the point of making our real boyfriends jealous.

We were getting to the closing of our meal, when I heard something metal drop on the floor. I thought it might have been a piece of my ring or an earring, so without thinking I picked it up off the ground. Only then did I realize what it was.

A look of horror spread across my face as I dropped this little treasure onto the table. My friend Jess exclaimed, "Oh my God, do you know what that is?!?" I obviously did because I literally ejected it from my grasp. I replied to her nonsensical, rhetorical question, yelling "Uh yes, it is someone's EAR GAUGE!" We laughed only to prevent the delicious meal we just had from being projected out of our bodies, but it was horrifying.

For those of you that are not familiar with what an ear gauge is, please see picture below.


An ear gauge is something that is meant to slowly give you a large hole in your ear lobe. You are just stretching our your ear lobe until you realize what you're doing is a ridiculous fad and really only an accepted physical deformation in some third world cultures. The picture above is a practical use for the excessively large hole in the lobe, but is in no way close to the size of the gauge I picked up.

After I had let the whole restaurant know what I had unwittingly just picked up, the girl sitting catty-corner from us felt her ear lobes, turned quite red and said "Oh my gosh, that is mine." That is all. No, "Hey sorry you had to pick up my nasty ear elongating device during dinner at a nice restaurant" or "Sorry I couldn't pick up a larger gauge this weekend - my dogs jumped out the car window and were seriously injured." Nothing.

The best part?

You know how some sushi restaurants gives you warm little towels to wash up with before you eat? Well, normally I always use mine at the beginning of the meal, but for whatever reason, Saturday I did not use it meal-prior. Thus, I got to use my nice, clean, warm hand towel AFTER I picked up Yucky McYuckerson's ear goop laden gauge. This I consider as more proof that God likes watching funny things happen to me without giving any repercussion.

Keep on keeping on big G,

J

Randoms

Some of the things that happen to me do not entail a long drawn out narrative, but can be explained in a couple short sentences. Here are a few things that happened in the past couple of days:

I was driving my car and was stopped at a red light by a bus stop. This old 'hippie' wearing a Canadian tuxedo (for those of you that don't know, that's denim on the top and bottom of an outfit) with the sleeves cut off. He yelled 'Peace in Vietnam!' and threw up a peace sign at me. I of course, obliged by throwing up a peace sign with him. He thought this was hilarious. The light turned green.

Whenever I call my friend Jess or answer her calls, my usual greeting for her is a loving "What up ho?" or "What up trick?" Not sure why, but I find it funny to call her that. Consider it a term of endearment. I called her phone and gave the normal address, to which I hear on the other end "Oh, well this isn't Trick, this is Trick's mom. I will definitely give her the message though." Good thing I am pretty in with Jess' parents, because that could have been bad.

I live close to a "Gay Neighborhood" (there's one in every city) but it doesn't bother me. I have my own special gay husband and have frequented the gay bars numerous times, so I would be confident saying that I am comfortable with the gay community. My boyfriend even likes when I go out with my gay husband because 1) rarely do you find a straight guy in a gay bar, thus lowering my chances of being rufied/raped/hit on and 2) nothing is scarier than a bitchy queen. I was walking my poochies and I saw two gay men embraced in a kiss. No prob - seen it a bajillion times at JRs. I caught the eye of one of the dudes, who then proceeded to wink at me while still kissing his lover. Friendly invite? Posing a question of jealousy? No idea, but quite odd.

More to follow, some day.

J