So this weekend my mother and I were searching through the newspaper for job openings when she went off track and found a job posting for "driver needed". I immediately began shaking my head no as she read off the job.
Me: Absolutely not mother!
Mom: ...500 a week...
Me: I would sue any company that hired YOU as a driver.
Mom: ...must have a valid license, I have that....
Me: No!
Mom: Why not?
Me: Because. I was with you when you ran over the median last week. I was with you when you went the wrong way down a one way. AND, I was with you when you got pulled over for drunk driving.
Mom: I don't even drink.
Me: Exactly my point!
Also, go here and follow, mmkay?
Friday, July 8, 2011
~Traumatic Ta-Doin's: Dusk To Dawn
(Attn: Guys!! GAP/Guy Assistance Program has been postponed due to teacher trauma. We will resume class perhaps tomorrow.)
Last night I was noodling around BBGW HQ and sumthin' catches my eye. Now the BBGW HQ is generally a fairly dim place (no BBG's a dumbass/dim jokes please! ...This is traumatic. You can tell from the title.), I don't like the bright, glaring interrogation lighting so many seem fond of. Because of my 10 watt preferred existence, I had trouble making out from a distance what the sumthin' no good was that I could see on the ceiling.
As I stood up and walked over to investigate I assumed it was a wayward moth who had illegally gained entry into my home, which dismayed me immensely. As I flipped on the big ass fluorescent overhead lighting, illuminating the room like the sun itself, I discovered that it was some kinda creepy ass, too many legged and possibly double headed muther fuckin' bug.
After quickly making mental note that this is one of the worst things about being single, I realized that I really didn't have any options here other than girling up and taking care of the horrible situation. So there I was, there I was, like a modern day boobed McGuyver trying to come up with a way to take care of that damn bug. I surveyed the room and the first thing that seemed like it might be helpful was the can of Scotch Guard I had used earlier in the day. Spritz...crazy ass bug ceiling scurrying...BBG skittering...spritz... crazy ass bug ceiling scurrying...BBG heart racing and further skittering... That however only resulted in the ceiling being pretty well water and spill proof.
Turns out my multi-legged nemesis would require more effort (and bravery) to defeat, so I moved on to the next item in my impromptu bug killin' arsenal, a hand vac. I grabbed my little, 'I've got a small mess' vacuum and held it up to the ceiling, thinking I would be able to suck it up and be done with this whole verrrrry scary situation. Of course, this brought with it, it's own set of BBG fears as I, being familiar with Murphy and his muther fuckin' law could easily envision creepy ass bug scurrying down the vac and touching me. A fate I didn't know if I could ever recover from. Ever so carefully vrrrroooooooooom, vrrrrrooooooom...Apparently the sucking power needed to kill a bug was asking too much of my vac. Dismayed (and shaky from nerves) but not defeated I moved on to the air freshener I saw a few feet away. Short version: Creepy ass bugs don't give a shit about fresh cotton air freshener. Turns out fresh cotton air freshener is like angel dust, or PCP to crazy ass bug.
Now things are seriously bad and I know what I have to do. Off comes the sandal I'm sportin' and I manage to knock it off of the ceiling, now I am in a fight for my life!! Now it's on the same footing as me and I know is creating some exoskeleton/Talaban like attack on me....WHAAACK!! Accompanied by a BBG/6 year old little girl scream. (I'm not proud, I'm just reportin' the facts.) I lifted the shoe, which I quite possibly may never wear again, to see the biggest pile of bug guts, goo and legs I've ever seen.
Because I've been so traumatized by the events of the past 90 seconds I find myself unable to attend to body disposal and return the shoe to it's make shift bug headstone spot until I can deal with it and I shakily sit for a well deserved and now much needed smoke. As I try to clam myself from the ta-doin's I can feel water attempting to spill outta my peepers. Upon realizing that I am on the verge of tears, I start to giggle at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. ...Which is the exact moment that my phone rings. LEM is on the other end and sweetly immediately gets all, "oh, no what's wrong?", as she knows that I'm not some cryin' chick, and I'm sure because the last time she heard me cry was when Papa was sick and dying. I very quickly assured her that I nothing was wrong as I tried to gather my wits enough to recount what had just unfolded at BBGW HQ. It was one of the worst experiences I've had in a long while, which I know signifies that I lead a charmed life and shouts: BBG is a bug whimp!
When the rush of adrenaline subsides and after my LEM chat, I make my way to bed. Feed Uncle John a baby carrot, a strawberry and several blueberries as a nighttime snack, making my 15 lb schnauzer the best nourished being in the house. (Unless of course you consider my intake of Dew, Cheez-It's, 3 pieces of bacon, a cookie and a Peppermint Patty as nutritional...) I am one of those awful sorts who insists on the tv blaring all night. Honestly, if I wake up through the night to find the tv off, it causes a visceral reaction of immense anger. I generally fall asleep with the remote in my hand. I generally wake up with the remote in my hand. Mainly, because I find that if I wake up to the chip, chip, chip clinking of late night poker I start thinking of ways to strike out. "Striking out" is of course code for concocting a plan to kill someone.
This morning I woke up around 06:30 and my uber present remote was no where to be found as I was stuck on CNN (good morning Robin Meade). I looked everywhere in an attempt to get to my local news station, too stubborn to actually touch the tv and change stations. Under sheet, moved pillows, searched under both sides of the bed. It's now closing in on 08:00 and I still have no fuckin' clue where my remote is, or how it made it's get away during the night. Needless to say, the past 10 hours or so at BBGW HQ have been pretty damn sketchy. And traumatic.
I'm hoping today takes a much more upward trajectory. And that I'm able to locate my remote before I return to bed tonight.
Trauma be gone damn it!
May you have a bug and trauma free day and may it be filled with easy access to your remote.
Last night I was noodling around BBGW HQ and sumthin' catches my eye. Now the BBGW HQ is generally a fairly dim place (no BBG's a dumbass/dim jokes please! ...This is traumatic. You can tell from the title.), I don't like the bright, glaring interrogation lighting so many seem fond of. Because of my 10 watt preferred existence, I had trouble making out from a distance what the sumthin' no good was that I could see on the ceiling.
As I stood up and walked over to investigate I assumed it was a wayward moth who had illegally gained entry into my home, which dismayed me immensely. As I flipped on the big ass fluorescent overhead lighting, illuminating the room like the sun itself, I discovered that it was some kinda creepy ass, too many legged and possibly double headed muther fuckin' bug.
After quickly making mental note that this is one of the worst things about being single, I realized that I really didn't have any options here other than girling up and taking care of the horrible situation. So there I was, there I was, like a modern day boobed McGuyver trying to come up with a way to take care of that damn bug. I surveyed the room and the first thing that seemed like it might be helpful was the can of Scotch Guard I had used earlier in the day. Spritz...crazy ass bug ceiling scurrying...BBG skittering...spritz... crazy ass bug ceiling scurrying...BBG heart racing and further skittering... That however only resulted in the ceiling being pretty well water and spill proof.
Turns out my multi-legged nemesis would require more effort (and bravery) to defeat, so I moved on to the next item in my impromptu bug killin' arsenal, a hand vac. I grabbed my little, 'I've got a small mess' vacuum and held it up to the ceiling, thinking I would be able to suck it up and be done with this whole verrrrry scary situation. Of course, this brought with it, it's own set of BBG fears as I, being familiar with Murphy and his muther fuckin' law could easily envision creepy ass bug scurrying down the vac and touching me. A fate I didn't know if I could ever recover from. Ever so carefully vrrrroooooooooom, vrrrrrooooooom...Apparently the sucking power needed to kill a bug was asking too much of my vac. Dismayed (and shaky from nerves) but not defeated I moved on to the air freshener I saw a few feet away. Short version: Creepy ass bugs don't give a shit about fresh cotton air freshener. Turns out fresh cotton air freshener is like angel dust, or PCP to crazy ass bug.
Now things are seriously bad and I know what I have to do. Off comes the sandal I'm sportin' and I manage to knock it off of the ceiling, now I am in a fight for my life!! Now it's on the same footing as me and I know is creating some exoskeleton/Talaban like attack on me....WHAAACK!! Accompanied by a BBG/6 year old little girl scream. (I'm not proud, I'm just reportin' the facts.) I lifted the shoe, which I quite possibly may never wear again, to see the biggest pile of bug guts, goo and legs I've ever seen.
Because I've been so traumatized by the events of the past 90 seconds I find myself unable to attend to body disposal and return the shoe to it's make shift bug headstone spot until I can deal with it and I shakily sit for a well deserved and now much needed smoke. As I try to clam myself from the ta-doin's I can feel water attempting to spill outta my peepers. Upon realizing that I am on the verge of tears, I start to giggle at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. ...Which is the exact moment that my phone rings. LEM is on the other end and sweetly immediately gets all, "oh, no what's wrong?", as she knows that I'm not some cryin' chick, and I'm sure because the last time she heard me cry was when Papa was sick and dying. I very quickly assured her that I nothing was wrong as I tried to gather my wits enough to recount what had just unfolded at BBGW HQ. It was one of the worst experiences I've had in a long while, which I know signifies that I lead a charmed life and shouts: BBG is a bug whimp!
When the rush of adrenaline subsides and after my LEM chat, I make my way to bed. Feed Uncle John a baby carrot, a strawberry and several blueberries as a nighttime snack, making my 15 lb schnauzer the best nourished being in the house. (Unless of course you consider my intake of Dew, Cheez-It's, 3 pieces of bacon, a cookie and a Peppermint Patty as nutritional...) I am one of those awful sorts who insists on the tv blaring all night. Honestly, if I wake up through the night to find the tv off, it causes a visceral reaction of immense anger. I generally fall asleep with the remote in my hand. I generally wake up with the remote in my hand. Mainly, because I find that if I wake up to the chip, chip, chip clinking of late night poker I start thinking of ways to strike out. "Striking out" is of course code for concocting a plan to kill someone.
This morning I woke up around 06:30 and my uber present remote was no where to be found as I was stuck on CNN (good morning Robin Meade). I looked everywhere in an attempt to get to my local news station, too stubborn to actually touch the tv and change stations. Under sheet, moved pillows, searched under both sides of the bed. It's now closing in on 08:00 and I still have no fuckin' clue where my remote is, or how it made it's get away during the night. Needless to say, the past 10 hours or so at BBGW HQ have been pretty damn sketchy. And traumatic.
I'm hoping today takes a much more upward trajectory. And that I'm able to locate my remote before I return to bed tonight.
Trauma be gone damn it!
May you have a bug and trauma free day and may it be filled with easy access to your remote.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
~Curtains!!
A little sumthin' I spied in Nana's 'hood:
Questions:
- Why wouldja select this curtain?
- To hang in this window?
- At this level?
As with all things, in lieu of actual truth, I make up my own BBG truth. After nanosecond consideration, I have decided that some lil' old lady who likes to go topless resides there, and this provides her with juuuuuuust the right amount of modesty. ...Which of course, is a little weird. But let's face it, my making up truth is not as weird as the reality of these damn curtains.
Monday, July 4, 2011
Happy 4th of July!
Homemade Garlic & Shrimp Tasty Pizza
Craving for pizza? Dialing 789-9999 or 911-1111 might rob you of the remaining 1k in your wallet. Fret not, dear baked cheese lover, I have exactly the right thing for you, and it doesn't cost 2 days of minimum wage earnings.
Hear ye, our Homemade Garlic & Shrimp Tasty Pizza (because it's made of left over tasty bread, geddit?). We made it twice already in our home, the first time we had proper rounded pizza crust but then we forgot to buy one the second time around so we decided to work with what we had, which turned out to be days old bread in the freezer. But don't worry, in the end, the senile bread was pretty darn delectable.
Ingredients:
- Old Tasty slices
- Cream Cheese Spread
- Shrimp bits
- Garlic, chopped
- Cheese, grated
- Tomato, sliced
- Mushrooms, sliced
- Basil leaves, diced
I did not put any measurement on the above ingredients because I think one of the best parts of homemade concoctions is the freedom of putting whatever you want, how much you want.
Anyway, the dish is simple.
- Take the tasty slices and apply evenly a generous amount of cream cheese spread.
- Sprinkle grated cheese on top.
- Drizzle one cup of chopped garlic (Kidding! But you want to put a LOT of this in, trust me.)
- Add the shrimp, mushroom, tomato slice and a few specks of diced basil leaves.
- Put in the oven until shrimp is pink and cuddly.
Remember to adjust the oven heat preferences so that the heat is coming from the TOP and not the bottom so as to not burn the bread before the shrimp is cooked.
Bon appetit!
Sunday, July 3, 2011
~Boomin' '11 Style
Each year our city puts on Red, White and BOOM! It's purported to be "the largest fireworks display in the midwest." Which I've always suspected they say because 'the best damn firecrackers if your not in New York or Chicago' would take up too much space on the ads.
It is a grand annual affair bringing more than 1/2 million people downtown for Boom type festivities; eats, parade, music, extensive, labor intensive and often ridiculous plans for spot saving, and the fireworks.
I enjoy Boomin' when invited to a corporate soiree. When lured in with the promise of indoor facilities or at a minimum private porta potties, a roof top view, booze, some catering, etc., I'm down for attending. Otherwise the thought of being awash in the sweaty masses trying to wrangle their cotton candy and Dew hopped up, ill behaved, sticky fingered progeny really just ain't my bag. Nor is being jostled by 600,000+ of my closest strangers.
On years I am not hob-knobin' with the Cbus area movers, shakers and gliteratti, I spend Boom at AnonD's, where the crowd is a much more manageable and delightful AnonD and R, me and our combined 4 d oh double g's (...I like the Snoop spellin'). In addition to hangin' with friends, there's steak, air conditioning, a super comfy leather chair and the finest HD big ass screen tv in the land, and finding parking means pullin' in the driveway.
Other than what I find at AnonD and R's, the only thing I require to make my Booming complete is the Lee Greenwoodif you don't know every word, it makes me question if you are indeed an American classic, God Bless the U.S.A. I'm not that hard to please. One song that is custom made for such an event. But did I hear my song?
(Short answer: No.)
(Long answer) 2011 Boom soundtrack:
Missing God Bless The U.S.A. and the uber clunky transitions between tracks, honestly, diminished my enjoyment of the entire production. Contemplating the what the fuckness of the musical accompaniment prohibited me from focusing in on the pyrotechnics themselves-- that's how shitty it was.
Don't believe me? See for yourself:
(Red, White and Boom ~ 2011)
Because my friend is (obviously!!) not at that station anymore and I have no one to pick up the phone and call...
Dear Red, White and Boom 2012 Soundtrack Planner,
In the most respectful maner, '11 is the purrrrrrrfect example of what not to do this year. Simply put, I found it spectacularly craptastic. Here's what we want; the musical military montage, a few fun pieces from whatever the latest cool kid music of the day is, a viral audio clip (for instance that double rainbow dude over a bed of some tune woulda been sweet sync'd with the right fireworks sequence, no?) peppered with a few ol' school classics and muther fuckin' Lee Greenwood's God Bless the U.S.A. That's it. We'll be happyand probably won't have to call you out in public on the interweb in our blog this year. ...And isn't that what we all want? More happiness, less contemplation of eye poking? Thank you in advance for your consideration. Good luck.
Love,
BBG
Because I was gypped and am proud to be an American I offer you this:
Happy and safe 4th-ing peeps!!
Haaaaaaaaaappy Birthday America!!
It is a grand annual affair bringing more than 1/2 million people downtown for Boom type festivities; eats, parade, music, extensive, labor intensive and often ridiculous plans for spot saving, and the fireworks.
I enjoy Boomin' when invited to a corporate soiree. When lured in with the promise of indoor facilities or at a minimum private porta potties, a roof top view, booze, some catering, etc., I'm down for attending. Otherwise the thought of being awash in the sweaty masses trying to wrangle their cotton candy and Dew hopped up, ill behaved, sticky fingered progeny really just ain't my bag. Nor is being jostled by 600,000+ of my closest strangers.
On years I am not hob-knobin' with the Cbus area movers, shakers and gliteratti, I spend Boom at AnonD's, where the crowd is a much more manageable and delightful AnonD and R, me and our combined 4 d oh double g's (...I like the Snoop spellin'). In addition to hangin' with friends, there's steak, air conditioning, a super comfy leather chair and the finest HD big ass screen tv in the land, and finding parking means pullin' in the driveway.
Other than what I find at AnonD and R's, the only thing I require to make my Booming complete is the Lee Greenwood
(Short answer: No.)
(Long answer) 2011 Boom soundtrack:
- Beyonce: National Anthem
- IllumiNations Epcot: Reflections of Earth
- Taio Cruz: Dynamite (fine, although if Hoda and Kathy Lee are playin' it hasn't it jumped the shark?)
- Neil Diamond: America (good enough song, bad techno version. Don't fuck with Mr. Diamond)
- McCoys: Hang on Sloopy (nobody wants to be reminded of the Buckeyes right now. Nobody. However, I know this soundtrack was put together well before any of that stuff started happening so slack on that.)
- Train: Hey Soul Sister (a friend tells me he's a douchebag, so I'm out on this song)
- Techno weirdness (stop techno-ing shit that shouldn't be techno'd)
- Alicia Keys/Ray Charles: America the Beautiful (good enough)
- Katy Perry: Firework (good enough)
- Cincinnati Pops: Armed Forces Medley (good enough)
- B.o.B/Hayley Williams: Airplanes (for the 4th? Nope. We don't wish on fireworks, that's not a thing.)
- Leann Rimes: Amazing Grace (huh? Happy Independence Day christians only?!? Screw everybody else?)
- Tinie Tempah: Written in the Stars (eh, I see what you were doin' but this. ..Here doesn't work)
- Mahalia Jackson: My Country, Tis of Thee (patriotic and a classic also kinda a downer no?)
- Gene Kelly: Grand Old Flag (really? the 1948 Gene Kelly version? With the hops, skips and jumps? Dud.)
- OSU Marching Band: Carmen Ohio (again 99.44% of us are using some combination of denial, booze and potato chips to avoid having to think about how awful things are in Buckeye (football) land. If things are as bad as I expect they will be, please just leave this out in '12, k? Thanks.)
- My Kinda Party: Jason Aldean (fine. Like the song, didn't hate it's inclusion)
- Kate Smith: God Bless America (good enough)
- Four Seasons: Oh What a Night (oh what a list...)
- Ring of Fire: Johnny Cash (I love me some JC and some Ring of Fire, but ya do know he recorded a lil' sumthin' called Old Ragged Flag, right?)
- Americus Brass Band: When Johnny Comes Marching (this made me want to put sumthin' sharpe in my eye)
- Elton John: Rocket Man (I've got nuthin' against this song, other than it's inclusion in RW&B)
- Boston Pops: 1812 Overture (good enough)
- Americus Brass Band: William Tell Overture (good enough)
Missing God Bless The U.S.A. and the uber clunky transitions between tracks, honestly, diminished my enjoyment of the entire production. Contemplating the what the fuckness of the musical accompaniment prohibited me from focusing in on the pyrotechnics themselves-- that's how shitty it was.
Don't believe me? See for yourself:
(I must warn you, it's 22 minutes you're NEVER gettin' back)
(Red, White and Boom ~ 2011)
Because my friend is (obviously!!) not at that station anymore and I have no one to pick up the phone and call...
Dear Red, White and Boom 2012 Soundtrack Planner,
In the most respectful maner, '11 is the purrrrrrrfect example of what not to do this year. Simply put, I found it spectacularly craptastic. Here's what we want; the musical military montage, a few fun pieces from whatever the latest cool kid music of the day is, a viral audio clip (for instance that double rainbow dude over a bed of some tune woulda been sweet sync'd with the right fireworks sequence, no?) peppered with a few ol' school classics and muther fuckin' Lee Greenwood's God Bless the U.S.A. That's it. We'll be happy
Love,
BBG
Because I was gypped and am proud to be an American I offer you this:
Happy and safe 4th-ing peeps!!
Haaaaaaaaaappy Birthday America!!
Friday, July 1, 2011
The Proper Way to Eat Cereal
For me, eating cereal is an art. So, to become such an artist as I, follow these simple steps.
Step 1: Take your bowl and fill it with milk. Thats right, milk goes in first.
Step 2: Next you take a handful of the cereal of your choosing (I'm a fan of them all) and put it into the milk and enjoy. Eat a handful at a time.
Why, you say, should this be considered an art? Well, think about the benefits.
-No more soggy cereal.
Thats really all thats important to me. I hate soggy cereal.
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