Once upon a time there was a young girl who was starting a new chapter in her life. She thought she had it all; a great job, a loving boyfriend, good friends and endless dreams for the future.
Then she woke up, went to the job she loathed with all of her being, listened to a crazy, old lady talk about her cats for 8 hours strait, came home and watched reruns of Friends for 3 hours, got drunk alone on a bottle of wine and then passed out on her bathroom floor.
Now, the one great thing about the second senario is that it made for easy topics on this here Internet blog site. The first senario, though a bit overstated, is just not as funny to write about. Somewhere in all of this writing, I thought, “Maybe I shouldn’t write things about people I couldn’t (or wouldn’t) say to their faces.” Again, thanks Dooce. But apparently, this philosophy has deeply saddened some of my readers.
Obviously, I don’t have that many readers here at crazybananas dot com, but the few I have are getting their pantys all in a twist (Hi Heath!) over the lack of cynical bullshit writing in the last few weeks. Apparently, I’ve only had one post worth reading since I switched jobs, so I’d like to give thanks to gay, hispanics who dream of recreating that loving feeling.
The two cynics in bitchier times…
Personally, I think these critics (Hi Heath!) are just sad bastards who are bored at work and are pissed they don’t have anything to read, or anyone to bitch with. As promised, I won’t say anything on this site I wouldn’t say to your face (Hi Heath!). But I do understand their pain. The world of a person who is so intelligent and completely underutilized and bored out of his or her mind is complete crap. Until three weeks ago, this was me. Poking my eyes out. With dull pencils. Drunk. On the floor. Of the bathroom.
And this is still me. I still want to shove dull objects through my skull several times a day. Not just because of work though. Add in the CEO of QVC and a dog that is the equivilant of 2-year-old child who drinks out of the toilet or my constant frustration with my Bearded companion, and BRING ON THE CYNICISM!
Trust me, after this weekend at the lake with our regional CEO and the brain of NASA (known to civilians as my parents) AND the Bearded Wonder, I should have PLENTY to write about.
http://www.crazybananas.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/Crazy_Banans_Logo_WebsiteBanner.png00Meganhttp://www.crazybananas.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/Crazy_Banans_Logo_WebsiteBanner.pngMegan2005-07-29 08:32:512005-07-29 08:32:51Critics make me barf
“It’s cool. It’s all good,†Rubottom said. “Now I’ve got my foot back. That’s all I wanted.â€
http://www.crazybananas.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/Crazy_Banans_Logo_WebsiteBanner.png00Meganhttp://www.crazybananas.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/Crazy_Banans_Logo_WebsiteBanner.pngMegan2005-07-27 22:02:032005-07-27 22:02:03Foot in a bucket?
A few nights ago I went back to my old college town of Lawrence to visit a friend who is starting school there (Hi Mara!). I am so jealous of her I almost want to kidnap her and place her in a small fishing village in Korea, never to be seen again, while I take all of her classes and re-live life as a college freshman. Only 11 a.m.? I’m going back to sleep BITCHES!
Anyway, I went to go spread my jealous vibes and also to see yet another friend who’s moved to Lawrence this summer. It is a very sad trend when your best friends wait for you to move away from a town before even considering moving there. Maybe I should be nicer to my friends and not make fun of them on the Internet?
We go out to eat at Mad Greek, one of my favorite restaurants in the world, amen. They sell Peroni, the Italian beer that I used to buy in the form of 40s in Florence. I was a hard-ass thug roaming the cobblestone streets with my 40 and armed with a cell phone with international service. LOOK OUT WORLD! Mad Greek makes me think, if just for a moment, that some things don’t just exist in Italy, but everywhere. And at least here, I don’t have to order in broken, insanely horrid Italian, constantly breaking up sentences with “no lo so” and “non posso parlare Italiano bene.”
We eat a lovely dinner of beer and pasta and then head out to another one of my favorite college dives (Insert Unpaid Advert Here) Henry’s. Now, being out with these two girls is different than most times we go out. Usually, our bitchiness is easily overshadowed by the more chipper members of the group. But when it’s just the three of us, we don’t, suprisingly, get many people asking for phone numbers. Maybe it’s Amber’s evil glare or Mara’s eye rolling or the fact that I am constantly spilling drinks all over anyone in a 10 foot radius even when I’m not drunk, but we’re not exactly a welcoming group.
This is why we all had a stunned look when a short, latin man with a nice rico suave/mullet haircut and a bandana came up behind Mara and TAPPED HER SHOULDER. WITH ONE FINGER! Now, this man had been on the deck with us for quite a time, and was a very obvious and open homosexual. There was another nice man with some short shorts and there was a bit of rubbing going on. So I was very surpised when he came over, asked to buy a cigarette from Mara (which she gracefully gave to him for free, I think she was too stunned to do otherwise) sat down right next to Amber and stared strait at me.
Imagine the next speech in thick accent, not unlike Fez from That 70’s Show:
“I have a question for you. Love? I was just telling my friend over there [with the short shorts] how love is just a memory. A memory of the feeling you get the first time you touch someone for the first time. The feeling you get inside when you talk to them. It is just a chemical in your brain that makes you feel good, so you spend your whole life trying to recreate that feeling when you first touch. This is all love is? Is it not?”
Silence.
“Well, that won’t sustain it. You have to truly care for another person, because you can’t stay together just based on a feeling. It may begin like that, but it can’t sustain for a long period of time.”
Mara and I stared at Amber, dumbfounded.
“What? It’s true.”
And they say the Grinch’s heart grew three times it’s size that day.
Critics make me barf
/3 Comments/in Grumples, Photos /by MeganOnce upon a time there was a young girl who was starting a new chapter in her life. She thought she had it all; a great job, a loving boyfriend, good friends and endless dreams for the future.
Then she woke up, went to the job she loathed with all of her being, listened to a crazy, old lady talk about her cats for 8 hours strait, came home and watched reruns of Friends for 3 hours, got drunk alone on a bottle of wine and then passed out on her bathroom floor.
Now, the one great thing about the second senario is that it made for easy topics on this here Internet blog site. The first senario, though a bit overstated, is just not as funny to write about. Somewhere in all of this writing, I thought, “Maybe I shouldn’t write things about people I couldn’t (or wouldn’t) say to their faces.” Again, thanks Dooce. But apparently, this philosophy has deeply saddened some of my readers.
Obviously, I don’t have that many readers here at crazybananas dot com, but the few I have are getting their pantys all in a twist (Hi Heath!) over the lack of cynical bullshit writing in the last few weeks. Apparently, I’ve only had one post worth reading since I switched jobs, so I’d like to give thanks to gay, hispanics who dream of recreating that loving feeling.
The two cynics in bitchier times…
Personally, I think these critics (Hi Heath!) are just sad bastards who are bored at work and are pissed they don’t have anything to read, or anyone to bitch with. As promised, I won’t say anything on this site I wouldn’t say to your face (Hi Heath!). But I do understand their pain. The world of a person who is so intelligent and completely underutilized and bored out of his or her mind is complete crap. Until three weeks ago, this was me. Poking my eyes out. With dull pencils. Drunk. On the floor. Of the bathroom.
And this is still me. I still want to shove dull objects through my skull several times a day. Not just because of work though. Add in the CEO of QVC and a dog that is the equivilant of 2-year-old child who drinks out of the toilet or my constant frustration with my Bearded companion, and BRING ON THE CYNICISM!
Trust me, after this weekend at the lake with our regional CEO and the brain of NASA (known to civilians as my parents) AND the Bearded Wonder, I should have PLENTY to write about.
Foot in a bucket?
/2 Comments/in World /by MeganI wish to GOD I was making this up. People are fucking weird. Seriously. FUCKING WEIRDOS!
Rubottom, a 21-year-old Lawrence resident, ex-pressed relief Monday after police gave him back his left foot, which he began storing in a five-gallon bucket of formaldehyde on the porch at 627 Conn. after it was amputated three weeks ago. Police seized the foot Saturday, thinking it could have been evidence of a crime, but returned it after verifying Rubottom was the rightful owner.
“It’s cool. It’s all good,†Rubottom said. “Now I’ve got my foot back. That’s all I wanted.â€
Pinot Philosophies
/2 Comments/in Blond /by MeganA few nights ago I went back to my old college town of Lawrence to visit a friend who is starting school there (Hi Mara!). I am so jealous of her I almost want to kidnap her and place her in a small fishing village in Korea, never to be seen again, while I take all of her classes and re-live life as a college freshman. Only 11 a.m.? I’m going back to sleep BITCHES!
Anyway, I went to go spread my jealous vibes and also to see yet another friend who’s moved to Lawrence this summer. It is a very sad trend when your best friends wait for you to move away from a town before even considering moving there. Maybe I should be nicer to my friends and not make fun of them on the Internet?
We go out to eat at Mad Greek, one of my favorite restaurants in the world, amen. They sell Peroni, the Italian beer that I used to buy in the form of 40s in Florence. I was a hard-ass thug roaming the cobblestone streets with my 40 and armed with a cell phone with international service. LOOK OUT WORLD! Mad Greek makes me think, if just for a moment, that some things don’t just exist in Italy, but everywhere. And at least here, I don’t have to order in broken, insanely horrid Italian, constantly breaking up sentences with “no lo so” and “non posso parlare Italiano bene.”
We eat a lovely dinner of beer and pasta and then head out to another one of my favorite college dives (Insert Unpaid Advert Here) Henry’s. Now, being out with these two girls is different than most times we go out. Usually, our bitchiness is easily overshadowed by the more chipper members of the group. But when it’s just the three of us, we don’t, suprisingly, get many people asking for phone numbers. Maybe it’s Amber’s evil glare or Mara’s eye rolling or the fact that I am constantly spilling drinks all over anyone in a 10 foot radius even when I’m not drunk, but we’re not exactly a welcoming group.
This is why we all had a stunned look when a short, latin man with a nice rico suave/mullet haircut and a bandana came up behind Mara and TAPPED HER SHOULDER. WITH ONE FINGER! Now, this man had been on the deck with us for quite a time, and was a very obvious and open homosexual. There was another nice man with some short shorts and there was a bit of rubbing going on. So I was very surpised when he came over, asked to buy a cigarette from Mara (which she gracefully gave to him for free, I think she was too stunned to do otherwise) sat down right next to Amber and stared strait at me.
Imagine the next speech in thick accent, not unlike Fez from That 70’s Show:
“I have a question for you. Love? I was just telling my friend over there [with the short shorts] how love is just a memory. A memory of the feeling you get the first time you touch someone for the first time. The feeling you get inside when you talk to them. It is just a chemical in your brain that makes you feel good, so you spend your whole life trying to recreate that feeling when you first touch. This is all love is? Is it not?”
Silence.
“Well, that won’t sustain it. You have to truly care for another person, because you can’t stay together just based on a feeling. It may begin like that, but it can’t sustain for a long period of time.”
Mara and I stared at Amber, dumbfounded.
“What? It’s true.”
And they say the Grinch’s heart grew three times it’s size that day.