There’s jungle fever. And there’s yellow fever. My (now ex) boyfriend? He’s got jungle fever. Me? I have yellow fever.
No, no, I’m not a lesbian and I don’t want to sleep with any women– Asian, regular, or decaffeinated, but for some reason all of my girlfriends in Los Angeles are Asian.
Posted in I Heart Ye, Personal Tales
Tagged Asians, bacon, Friends, justin sloe, mme marbles, Natasha, soul food, yoony
I can’t take credit for this. My friend Moog can take credit. I don’t even think she can take full credit. I think someone at her work created it based on pictures taken by my former roommate friend straight cakin’, son, and based on her impeccable photoshopping skills. But I don’t care who created it! Because it is exactly awesome. And I can and do take credit for how awesome my dog is. I also take credit for thrusting Bailey, the second doggie star of this little movie, upon straight cakin’, son.
“I’m bringing home a dog! Wait, I can’t have two dogs. Do you want a dog? No? Well, here! Have a dog! “
That’s basically how Bailey came to be straight cakin’, son’s dog. It only took two months, but he fell hook, line, and sinker for my master manipulation. Sucka!
Posted in Cute Shenanigans, I Heart Ye, Personal Tales
Tagged animals, Bailey, cute, dog, dogs, Nate Dogg, straight cakin' son
Urine For a Poetic TreatBelow is a haiku I composed regarding a recent 24 hour pee collection test that I had to take in order for my endocrinologist to further test my elevated cortisol levels.
I spent Memorial Day weekend pissing in this big ol jug. I had to pee in the jug for 24 hours. Twenty-four fucking hours. At the time, I was living with a great friend of mine and while he possesses strength of character and fortitude of spirit, for some odd reason he wasn’t keen on me storing my piss in a jug in our refrigerator. Can you believe that shit? So I dispatched my friend to the drug store to buy me a cooler and some ice. So I kept the jar of pee in a cooler buried in ice (Doctor said I had to keep the pee chilled. I don’t know, maybe she was going to use it to make martinis. Shaken not stirred!!) So I’m peeing in this jug. And of course once the beer started to flow down my throat (it was Memorial Day, after all), I start having to pee every twenty minutes. (This is why I drink scotch, ladies! If you have tiny tanks like me, drink scotch. Less volume. More drunkiness.) So I’d stumble into the bathroom and sit on the toilet and start peeing and then immediately get those Kegel muscles going so I could stop the pee mid-stream. (“Oh shit! I’m supposed to be peeing in the jug! I’m royally screwing this up.”) The whole experience was pretty absurd.
What’s even more absurd is that I had to take my last pee right before I turned the jug into the nurse’s station, exactly 24 hours after I peed in the jug for the first time. And that happened to be at around noon on a Tuesday. So I had to bring my cooler of pee with me to work! TO WORK! With my little Pyrex cup that I would pee in so that I could transfer the pee to the jug with relatively little spillage.
Anyway. It was an experience. And considering I did the pee test during Memorial Day Weekend aka Drink Hella Beer Weekend, I was more than a little concerned that the pee wasn’t going to be comprised 100% of pee-type materials. There was likely other stuff in there. I don’t know. Hot dogs. Chocolate chips. Veggie Burgers. Scotch. WHATEVER.
But that test turned out normal. (Pfft! How that happened I’ll never know!)
[written May 30, 2007; edited October 3, 2007 to add context, re-edited October 16 to make it more clean; re-edited January 9, 2010 to remove references to my ex-boyfriend.]
Posted in I Am Batshit Insane, It's Not a Tumah, Personal Tales
Tagged batshit insane, pituitary tumor, Tumer Willis
I took my dog, Nate Dogg, a/k/a Nathaniel Quincy Dogg, III, d/b/a “Nate” to the Craftivism Fair this afternoon, downtown in Los Angeles’ Fashion District, a/k/a Little Mexico d/b/a Mexitown. It was a pretty nice little event, PR provided by the talented Natasha, DJing and handsome techno provided by the amazing boys of DROOG, sloehawk provided by joe slams’s alter ego. But I digress.
So I’m hanging out with Nate Dogg and this perky chick comes up to me and gives me the name of an animal talent agency as she exclaimed, “Your dog is awesome! Hold on! I have some information for you about a company, an animal talent agency, that places dogs in movies, t.v. shows and commercials. Hold on!”
She rushes off and immediately returns with a slip of paper with the name of said talent agency. “You’ve got to call! Tell them Paoling referred you.”
So I look at her and I’m like “Say what? This dog? The dog who I just passed over a 4 foot high fence (as Natasha aptly put it “He looked so excited, like ‘WHEE!! I’m levitating!’”) to my friend Andrei who was playing in a fenced-in quasi DJ booth set up with the other Droog boys (Brett and Justin), so i could go up to the loft and get a drink, and which dog then ignored the Droog boys (Nate has hung out with these boys on multiple occasions… i would call them friends) who he must have thought had him caged in this DJ booth area for some malicious purpose, as he waited for me whining and whimpering (as Justin remarked, “I tried to call him over to me-He looked at me and then turned and walked the other way. I think he may have even given me the finger!”), which dog then tried to squeeze his face through the fence–it was a metal fence, not that that information is particularly relevant–when he saw me, and which dog realizing he couldn’t squeeze his body, face first through a metal fence, turned and leapt four feet off the ledge wherein he had been caged by those curse-d DJs just so he could be in my general vicinity three seconds sooner than he would have been had he not leapt off a platform and risked breaking his hip? This Dog?!” I’m sure he’s very talented, but he’s a little slow on the uptake if you know what I’m sayin’.
But then I got to thinking, he could be in a commercial for senior dogs. You know? I think he’d be perfect for a Valtrex commercial–the aging dog owned by two people who have genital herpes but who just don’t give a damn and aren’t going to let a few outbreaks get them down! My dog. The Poster Dog for Herpes.
[written August 12, 2007]