The New Monopoly
Hasboro is updating the 70-year-old Monopoly game and they’re asking for the public’s suggestions. I have a few ideas to make the game more modern and realistic:
The corners “Go,” “Jail” and “Free Parking” will remain the same, but they’ll each now share space with a Starbucks. Every time you land on one you’ll have to pay $10 for a double decaf mocha latte.
The cheap properties- purple and blue- are on indian land. Owners are allowed to build casinos for the price of four hotels.
The pieces:
I have no idea what an iron and a dog have to do with real estate, so I suggest for pieces a Blackberry, a briefcase, a Mercedes, a credit card and a bottle of Xanax.
Chance and Treasure Chest cards:
Think they’ll use any of my ideas?
TV Roundup
I have a great new promotional idea for American Idol. It’s called “Guess Paula’s Blood-Alcohol Level.” Each week, viewers would call or text their guess and all who are correct would be entered into a drawing to win a year’s supply of Jim Beam and Coke- just like Paula drinks on the show (keep in mind, this would be a normal drinker’s year supply and not a Paula Abdul year’s supply). My guess for last night’s show: .16%.
When did The Apprentice turn into “bring your kids to work day?” It was bad enough when Trump brought in season one winner Bill Rancic to substitute for George and give his “expert” business advice to the candidates. Then a couple weeks ago we were treated to the tough talk of one Ivanka Trump. This week, we got a double dose of Trump offspring when young Donald joined the board room festivities. Most of the candidates have some serious business credentials. It must be humiliating for them to have to accept criticism from Trump’s snot-nosed kids. Actually, it would be kind of fun if Trump brought in tweenie Tiffany one week just to see who finally snaps.
On the quality-television front, it appears there’s a new episode of Lost tonight. Just in time- withdrawal is starting to set in.
Bluetooth Boneheads
I think the Bluetooth is a great little gadget and if I made more than five phone calls a month I’d probably get one myself. But there comes a time to take the Bluetooth off and I’m taking a public stand: I hereby refuse to talk to anybody wearing one in a social situation. That’s right, the next time I’m at a party or a club and someone sporting cockroach ear tries to engage me in coversation, I’ll inform them of my position and walk away. I think the only exception would be if I had a heart attack and someone needed their hands free while they received CPR instructions over the phone. Then I’d answer their questions. But really, how many other good reasons are there for wearing a Bluetooth at a party?
The Bluetooth says to me, “I’m expecting a call so urgent that I can’t even pull my phone out of my pocket to take it.” Actually, more often it says to me, “I’m a jackass with a new toy I want everybody to see.” Either way, chatting up this fool can only be a waste of my time.
Just Give Him Two Tylenol
An Oregon man who went to a hospital complaining of a headache was found to have 12 nails embedded in his skull from a suicide attempt with a nail gun, doctors say. (Full story)
Twelve nails to the noggin’ and this guy complains of a headache. Makes me wonder how long it took for the doctor to discover the real problem:
Doctor: So, what brings you here today?
Nailboy: I’ve got a headache I can’t quite shake.
Doctor: Would you describe it as throbbing or pounding?
Nailboy: More like piercing.
Doctor: Do you get these headaches often?
Nailboy: No, this is the first time.
Doctor: Have you been under any stress at work?
Nailboy: Nope.
Doctor: Home?
Nailboy: Nope.
Doctor: Any major bumps to the head?
Nailboy: Nope.
Doctor: I think I’ve covered just about everything. Oh wait, have you hammered any nails into your skull recently?
Nailboy: Come to think of it, I did shoot 12 nails into my head last night. Think that might be the problem?
Weird Tag
I got my first “tag” from Kristi at A Beautiful Mess. The way I recall the game of tag as a kid was a boy would touch me and say, “You’re it” then I’d turn around, kick him in the balls and say, “You’re it.” (I always blamed my bad early luck with boys on my height and freckles but maybe the long-term testicular damage I caused had something to do with it). No balls to kick in this tag, I’m just supposed to list six weird things about myself. I think the weirdest thing is that I had a hard time coming up with this list. Gotta love denial.
Apparently I’m supposed to tag six other people but since there were no promises of riches if I do or threats of eternal suffering if I don’t, I think I’ll just keep it here and anybody who wants to play along can post their list.
Thank You, Eva Longoria
Tonight I went to the store to pick up my contribution for the family Easter dinnerr- rolls. I figured things out a long time ago: You show people you’re a good cook and then they want you to bring fancy dishes for every occasion. But it only takes one too-spicy carrot soup on Thanksgiving and from then on, you’re only asked to bring items you can’t really screw up, like rolls. Actually, the last few years I’ve been in charge of bringing beverages so this is sort of a step up. I considered baking croissants then realized that might show some cooking skills and could result in a future request for some sort of side dish. Rolls from a bag it is.
While shopping, I suddenly had an urge for chocolate chip cookie dough. I don’t know where the craving came from since I haven’t had cookie dough in probably five years. I previously described my “eat junk, lose weight” diet (which some doctor labelled with the more-professional, less-catchy name, “intuitive eating”). The reason it works is because I eat when I’m hungry but I rarely snack. But, man, I wanted that cookie dough and to make the dilemma more difficult, it was on sale for 2 for $4. And the package said it would keep until July (which actually kind of scared me- what’s in that stuff)?
So I picked up the two logs and proceeded to the cashier.The line was long enough that I had plenty of time to stare at a magazine that featured Eva Longoria on the cover looking amazing in a tiny bikini. I went back and forth with whether or not I should buy the cookie dough. I’m under no delusion that skipping the treat will get me any closer to looking that good in a bikini but I realized that eating it would get me that much farther from looking like that. So in the end, I put the cookie dough back.
I thought the home pregnancy test was a bad impulse item to display but I think pictures of hard bodies in a grocery store are even worse.
Time For Botox
Bobgirrl posted a link on her site to a face recognition program on My Heritage that compares an image of your face to various celebrities. Never one to use my time wisely, I ran the picture from this site through and these are the results:
61% resemblance to Jennifer Aniston and Amanda Peet. No complaints there.
60% resemblance to Alicia Silverstone. I don’t see it at all but I’ll take it.
60% resemblance to Julie Andrews. This is where I put on the brakes. It didn’t show a 60% resemblance to Julie Andrews in Mary Poppins, it was a 60% resemblance to Julie Andrews circa The Princess Diaries. THE LADY IS 70 YEARS OLD!
I couldn’t even look at any more results. Screw you bobgirrl for ruining my day.
The Joke’s On Me
While some readers sympathized about my last date, as a 5’10″ female standup comic, I guess I should consider myself fortunate to get any dates at all:
Funny Women Are A Turn Off
Men are intimidated, research says
New research has found truth in the old stereotype that most men find funny women a turn-off.
Scientists say women who tell jokes are seen as a threat, undermining men’s idea that they should hold the dominant role.
Hundreds of men and women in their twenties were questioned by academics. Most said they found a sense of humour to be attractive in women – but when asked if they would want to be with a woman who cracked jokes herself, more than half said no.
Dr Rod Martin, whose research will be published in the scientific journal Evolution and Human Behaviour this week, said his findings suggested men feel threatened by witty women.
“When forced to choose between humour production and humour appreciation in potential partners, women valued humour production, whereas men valued receptivity to their own humour,” he said.
Dr Martin, a psychologist with the University of Western Ontario who has written several academic papers on humour, added: “One of the reasons why men don’t like female comedians may be that humour is seen as a masculine thing.”
But his research did find that men did show a preference for funny women when it came to one-night stands
The Independent on Sunday, which reported on the research today, put the findings to leading females.
Kumars star Meera Syal said: “The idea that men are more interested in having an audience rather than sharing banter doesn’t really surprise me. Women see men with a sense of humour as dangerous and sexy, while men see it as threatening.
“Humour is a mark of intelligence. Many men don’t really want to be the recipient of a cutting remark in public that will make them look small or stupid.”
Oriane Messina, of Radio 4′s Bearded Ladies, said: “I can’t say I’ve laughed a man into bed, whereas I know plenty of men who have laughed a woman into bed.”
Catherine Tate said: “I do recognise this type of man. They think that because you’re being funny you are entering their domain. Some backward types are threatened by funny women. It’s mad.”
And stand-up Lucy Porter added that the men who were bold enough to chat her up probably did so because “they think that if you are outrageous on stage, then you are going to be really dirty in bed”.
(From Chortle)
I (Middle Finger) My Date
For all my discussions of idiotic behavior I deal with every day, I’ve neglected to delve into one area of my life that naturally attracts idiots: my dating life. So from here on out I’ll share a bit more on that, beginning with last night’s date.
It was actually a second date with a guy I wasn’t sure I wanted to see again. He’s good looking and seemed nice enough but he’s also a bit younger than I like and our conversations in person and on the phone were somewhat of a struggle. But he made a decent offer of dinner and shooting pool so I accepted.
I should have known something was amiss when he offered to pick me up and I said I thought it might be better if I drove myself. He basically told me that was lame and that he wasn’t dangerous or anything. As if I should take his word on that. I’m sure all the really dangerous guys are upfront with their intentions: “I’d like to take you to dinner and dancing and then rape you, torture your body and leave it in a ravine. How does that sound, cupcake?” Seriously, what kind of guy has a problem with a woman not wanting to ride in a car with someone who’s essentially a stranger?
Since we were meeting at the location and since his cell phone wasn’t working, he was somewhat adamant about us both being there at 8:00 on the dot. Normally, I’d try to be about 10-15 minutes late to give the guy a chance to arrive before me, but because of his plea, I arrived only five minutes late. And this meant I had to miss the last- and best- minutes of Sixteen Candles on tv. Even though I’ve seen the movie at least 20 times, I hated missing those last two scenes. When I’m 80 I’ll still be fantasizing about standing in front of that church and having Jake Ryan motion to me. I look around then point to myself, “ME?” and he says, “Yeah you” then we risk serious chest burns for that sweet first kiss. I’m telling you men, if you want to win a woman over, rent an old red Porsche, buy a cake with 16 candles and find a sturdy table. We’re ALL suckers for that. Oh, and it helps if you actually look like Jake Ryan (who am I kidding? If you look like Jake Ryan, you don’t need any of the other stuff).
Anyway, I arrived to find my date wasn’t there yet so I took a seat at the bar and bought myself a drink. Not a problem. He finally showed up about 15 minutes later and we sat down on some couches. He didn’t say anything about dinner and didn’t order a drink for himself. I already knew he doesn’t drink alcohol, which isn’t a big deal, but I do prefer a guy who sometimes likes to toss back a cocktail or six. I don’t want a raging alcoholic but an occasional night of drunkenness is fun. What was a bit of an issue for me was that he didn’t order anything to drink. Between cocktail waitressing, bartending and stand up comedy, most of my adult life has been spent hawking beverages so I’m not too keen on the freeloaders. If you want a night of free entertainment, stay home. If you go out, at least buy a two dollar Coke.
Once again, conversation did not come easily as he asked me a bunch of personal questions. I realize that’s how normal people get to know each other and it’s my own idiosyncracy that makes me not want to answer those questions. I’m the type who’s not interested in someone’s “stats,” I’d rather get to know their personality. But I politely answered some of his questions and asked him a few of the same to which he gave brief answers. That pretty much put the whole weight of talking on me.
We started a game of pool and halfway through he asked what I wanted to do next. What next? I thought pool was the plan. Why did there have to be a “next”? I learned that he had parked somewhere on the street instead of using the valet, which was probably the reason he was so late. Sure, he didn’t mind moving to another location, but I paid to park and I was staying there.
Toward the end of the pool game I was practically waving my empty glass in his face but he didn’t seem to notice. We finished our game and headed back to the couches. As we passed the bar, I said, “I’m getting another drink, do you want anything?” Even though I don’t mind buying a guy a drink, in this situation, if he’d accepted I probably would have ended the date right that moment. But he just said, “No” and left me at the bar to head back to the sofa. I couldn’t believe it. This was the third time in the last few months that a guy asked me out and didn’t even buy me one lousy drink. And one of the previous cheapskates actually had the nerve to invite me on another date. When a guy doesn’t buy me a drink, he’s basically saying to me, “I never want to see you again.” Ok, maybe that’s not what he’s saying, but that’s what I’m hearing and that’s exactly what’s going to happen. In the 15 minutes I’d spent waiting for my date, two guys I’d never met before offered to buy me a drink and my lameass date couldn’t even do the same.
I sat down with him and he finally asked if I was hungry. I was but at that point, I was just looking for a reason to leave. Unfortunately, as a poker player, I can’t use the “I have to get up early” excuse. I really do need to come up with a good one. We actually managed to have a decent conversation, though it was mostly about politics and we disagreed on a lot. Then he said he’s not a registered voter, which voided most of his arguments in my mind. My philosophy is: You don’t vote, you don’t get to complain about anything. Or, at least, I don’t want to listen to your whining.
Somewhere around this time I discovered his refusal to buy me a drink was not due to a lack of interest as he grabbed my chin to kiss me. I said, “Don’t do that.” In fact, I said it in such a forceful way that I busted up laughing. I think he believed it was simply because of the location and had no idea what a crappy date he was.
Then he mentioned something about a shirt he saw that he really wanted. Instead of the “I (heart) New York” design, it was an “I (plane) New York” design. Now, my sense of humor definitely leans toward the dark side. And I’ve laughed at quite a few jokes surrounding 9/11- I even made a few of my own on 9/11. But none of them had the death of innocent people as the sole punch line. There has to be some other element to make it funny. If the plane had been directed at something else, perhaps at a politician, I could see the humor in it. I could even understand why people in Iraq would think it’s funny but as he described it, I didn’t see why an American would. I asked him why he thought it was funny and he said, “None of them were innocent. It hit a few thousand corporate thieves. Big deal.”
As someone who often makes offensive statements in attempts at humor, I give people the benefit of the doubt that they might be making a joke that didn’t really hit its target. So I asked him, “You’re joking right?” He said, “No.” I repeated, “Come on- you must be kidding.” He said, “No I’m not.” I gave him one last chance, “Really, tell me you’re joking.” He wasn’t. So I stood up and said, “I’m going to take off now.” That’s when he said, “Don’t go- I was joking.” I expected him to say that because when guys realize they may have blown their chance to get laid, they’ll say anything. Too late.
Another date, another LA loser. I wouldn’t be the slightest bit surprised if he ended the night thinking, “I can’t believe I wasted a whole 75 cents on her.”
WITH Cheese
Any time I’m lacking for something to write about, I need to remember to hit a fast food drive thru because it’s always a good source of material. I did just that today and noticed there was a mistake on the order screen. This was the conversation that followed:
Me: I want it with cheese.
Cashier: You want Swiss cheese?
Me: WITH cheese.
Cashier: Swiss cheese?
Me: No, I want it WITH cheese.
Cashier: We don’t have Swiss cheese.
Apparently he thought he was serving Cindy Brady. And I was laughing too hard to properly enunciate the phrase so I changed it up a bit:
Me: I. Would. Like. Cheese. On. That.
Cashier: Ok, but all we have is American.
That’s when I realized my enunciation was not the problem.
Jury Doodie
A couple months ago I received a jury summons, which I promptly forgot about. On Tuesday, I realized the call-in date was approaching so I dug up the jury form. It turns out I was supposed to call the court last weekend. Great. I called the automated line expecting to hear there was a warrant out for my arrest but instead it simply told me to check back again the next night after 6:00.
And I promptly forgot about it.
At 3:30 yesterday morning, I remembered and called the line. Naturally, they wanted me this time- at 8:45 am. In case I haven’t made it clear here, I do not do mornings. If I never had to spend another waking moment between the hours of 6-10 am, I would not be the slightest bit disappointed.
I spent the next hour reading over the juror documentation and filling out the form then picked out something nice and comfy to wear for the long day ahead. With a little more than three hours of sleep, I arrived for my first day of jury service.
Over the years, I’ve heard a lot of people complain about jury duty but I’ve never heard anybody describe the excruciating pain known as “juror orientation.” Or maybe it was just worse for me because mine was led by Sweaty Repeater Guy. This guy repeated every nugget of information two or three times. And I’m not saying he reviewed items he’d mentioned earlier in the orientation; He repeated them all in a row. It was kinda like this, “If you’re not assigned to a case today, you’re excused for another year. That means, if you’re not put on a jury, you’re excused and don’t have to come back. So no jury assignment today means no jury duty for at least a year.” I suppose the repetition was necessary for some people since the sweat pools gathered around his gut and the constant patting of his face were quite distracting. Believe it or not, at the end of the orientation, a woman actually asked, “If we’re not placed on a jury today, do we have to come back tomorrow?” It was enough to stir me from my semi-comatose state and say quite audibly, “You gotta be fucking kidding.” She wasn’t.
Sweaty Repeater Guy spent over two hours discussing all the materials we were supposed to have read before we arrived and gave detailed instructions on how to fill out the short form. Apparently there are a lot of jurors who need assistance with such challenging form fields as “name,” “address,” and “signature.” It was so typical of how most businesses operate: Cater to the people who weren’t prepared just to further aggravate me, who was. They should have tucked something toward the end of the pamphlet that said, “Pssst- since you’ve read this far, go ahead and come in an hour later than scheduled. You shouldn’t have to endure the boring lecture with the other slackers.” I promise the next time I’m summoned for jury duty I will be very tardy.
At the end of the orientation, Sweaty Repeater Guy stuck in some sort of juror propaganda video. It featured a bunch of people’s testimonials about their great experiences on juries and closed with the statement that “A lot of jurors even keep in touch after the trial.” I looked around at the room full of people too stupid to get out of jury duty, myself included, and wondered if anybody saw that as a potential perk. I did not. I don’t know why they felt it was necessary to try and sell us on jury duty anyway since we didn’t exactly have a choice. It’s like trying to sell a death row inmate on the idea that lethal injection is much better than the old electric chair. No sales pitch necessary.
We were released early for lunch so I went home and crashed for two hours. After the break, we sat around for another hour and half before the judge came in and said we could go. That was it? The county of Los Angeles couldn’t find one criminal in need of a jury that day?! I was a bit disappointed. I’d been llooking forward to the attorneys’ questions:
“How do you feel about drunk drivers?”
“They should all fry!”
“What about drug dealers?”
“To the chair!”
“Jaywalkers?”
“I’d like to run ‘em down myself.”
Nope, no fun at all. It was just a colossal waste of time for me and 50 other people (possibly 51- Larry King popped his head in and I’m not certain if he was there for jury duty or divorce court). Most people were glad to get out of service but I wanted a little action. The next time I’m summoned, I think I’ll stop by Illegal Alien Depot, offer a few of them some work and deliver them to the courthouse. If the county can’t bring the criminals to me, I’ll bring the criminals to them.
A Check Raise Is Better Than A Check Bounce
You gotta love shows like The World Poker Tour. Where else can you see someone walk away bitter and angry after winning half a million dollars? Oh wait, I know: Watch The World Series of Poker and see that same response after people have won millions of dollars.
I hope someday that bitterness will be mine.
Kids Love Cheek-A-Boo
When I heard the little ones chose Green Day for top Kids Choice Awards, I thought, “Those kids have great taste.” But that taste was called into question by another favorite of theirs, Lindsay Lohan. Now comes this photo of Lohan at the awards ceremony and it sheds a bit of light on their selection: What six-year-old doesn’t like a nice piece of ass?
Let’s all call the FCC and complain about this “wardrobe malfunction.” We have to get this garbage off the airwaves- there could be children watching. Oh wait…
(This is my 100th post in “People are Idiots.” I think showcasing a major ass is apropos for the milestone).
