A Br-ette submission

My brother-ette sent this deliciously funny post today, please to enjoy!

Ette2 has inspired me. I need to get my hatred of dumb kids off my chest.

As a responsible and caring member of the scientific community (fry cook at BK), I signed up to be a judge for an online science competition. For those of you that don't know about the scientific method (or scien-terrific method as we say in our science/deep-fry techniques meetings), it goes a little something like this; First, you state a question or problem (are french fries delicious?), then you do research (read about how people love/like french fires), state your hypothesis (french fries are probably delicious), perform experiments (eat french fries with zest and great zeal), report observations (french fries taste delicious, really delicious), and finally report your conclusion (french fries are delicious). Unfortunatley, the majority of 7th, 8th, and 9th graders in America couldn't scientifically method to save their lives...and doubley unfortunatley, as judges we could only give zeros as the lowest scores (we couldn't go negative)...and unfortunaltey to the max, we couldn't post comments on how dumb they are. Here's an example;

One group of kids were trying to find the best renewable energy resource for when we run out of oil. Pretty comendable, right? Well, they said solar energy wouldn't work because eventually the sun would go away, so they chose wind energy as our best bet. Ok, that makes no sense, but I'm willing to hear them out. Then, when they did more research, they found out that the sun creates the wind (not true), and so wind energy was out. So they eventually went with geothermal energy. So relax everyone...when the sun explodes and takes the wind with it, we'll still have the heat of the earth to power our Civic SI's.

I gave this team a 70 out of 500. I felt bad that they were going to see this score and think they were failures, but then I thought they'll probably think that 70 isn't much less than 500, which will make them feel pretty good...as good as that first bite into a golden, crispy, deep fried potato wedge. All I know is that when I became a scientist, I took an oath...an oath to lady science...in which I swore to protect the vagina of her integrity, boobs of her honor, and anus of her accurate and repeatable results from the penis of ignorance. G Bless you all.

Horton Hears this movie is going to be good...

... for stoners

I caught this clip last night on some show or trailer, and it seemed kinda awesome. I never read this book as a kid, but it's a Dr. Seuss favorite apparently. An elephant discovers a whole world on a tiny spec on a flower. It's voiced by Jim Carey and Steve Carell. I had like two Bailies last night and was almost tripping watching this thing. I was thinking about what other worlds might exist, are we perhaps living on a spec in another giant universe?! I also wonder what drug Dr. Seuss was on all the time, maybe he tried that stuff that Moses was on.
So the plan is to get blazed and go catch this flick this next. Who's in?




That's right, I enjoy Bailey's Irish Cream after my dinner!

Dude, seriously?

I hate people sometimes. I should definitely stay far away from things like jobs in the service industry because I just. don't. like. people. They piss me off. Like today for instance...do you ever just sit back and look at your peers or your coworkers or your business partners or whatever freaky group of people you surround yourself with and just think, all of you suck and you are stupid and I am smart and it kills me to put this smile on my face? No? Just me? You are a bunch of liars.

This week is definitely an "I hate people" week. A variety of reasons, sure. And no, I will not go into detail because who knows who reads this blog. But if you had to deal with me this week? I may hate you too. At least temporarily.

If I could change 3 things about people that drive me bananas....

1) Lying, and the lying liars who lie. Blatant, outright, in your face liars should be thrown to the sharks. Lying is for losers. Truth is cool.

2) Time is money. Don't waste my time and I won't waste yours. Waste my time, however, and I will invoice you for every post-it note your stupid job made me use.

3) Passive aggressive behavior followed by little spurting laughter or uncomfortable giggles. OMG, I am going to tear out my eyeballs, I swear to god.

For more on hating, check out:

http://www.whyihatepeople.com/

http://www.ihatethis.org/

http://simanek.blogspot.com/2008/01/i-hate-people-volume-9.html

If any of our readerettes have any hatred to get off their chest, share it here, or forever hold your pissing anger.

Moses was high?

We often stray from our Jewish roots here on kvetchette, mainly in an effort to bring you as many rants as possible and quite frankly, we don't participate in too many Jewish activities short of kvetching, so our parcel is limited, so to speak. But in order to maintain Jewish Blogroll status we have to occasionally post something jewcy for jew to read. I know, a bit racialist if you ask me but whatever. Challah.

So did jew know that Moses was tripping up there on Mount Sainai? According to Benny Shanon, a professor of cognitive psychology at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem when God delivered Moses the Ten Commandments, Moses was tripping. Burning bush? Yeah, he thinks Moses was tripping then too. Citing an example of religious ceremonies in the Amazon where psychotropic drugs are taken to induce people to "see" music, Shanon believes that Moses was taking a drug similar to ayahuasca, providing him with spiritual-religious visions.

Now if this were true, this theory might be interesting if thrown in to a variety of Jewtopia. Like, walking in the desert for 40 years. I'm fairly certain nobody walks for 40 years straight, but whatever. Minor detail. How about the parting of the red seas? That is DEFINITELY a drug-induced tale if you ask me. And what about when that dude Lot's wife turned into a pillar of salt? Can't you imagine some LSD-induced vision of a person turning into some salt? I'll tell you what, the first time I did acid my dorm room popcorn ceiling morphed into an army of millions of little GI Joe men fighting a war. Salt? Popcorn ceiling? Hmmm.

Jews are crazy. It wouldn't surprise me if this Shanon guy is on to something. I often wonder why the most frummy of Hassidics wear the hatbox on their heads and not the hat - someone maybe should tell them? Or maybe they are high as a kite and the joke is on us.

My only question then is...where does one get ayahuasca? I'm fairly certain my pot dealer doesn't carry that in stock. But I sure could use a spiritual vision right about now. Oy, the week I've had.

L'chaim.

Yoga

Ok, so attended my first yoga class yesterday.

I walk in with a girlfriend from work, and we’re in steady bitch mode about all the drama of the day. Of course the Yogi who is discussing the effort of Being Present and all her students who are sitting attentively holding onto her every new-age word look at us like we are a little shot of poison botox being injected into their natural world. So we strip down into our comfy yoga gear and set up our mats – all the way in the back as to not be noticed. Now all day I’ve been feeling a little gassy. Not gotta-go-poo sort of gas, more like, just gotta toot. Not ideal for yoga. So she starts this thing out by making us roll up a blanket and place it under our backs in likely the most uncomfortable spot possible, directly below your shoulder blades. Blah blah, something about it opening up your lungs, I didn’t really listen, but the pain that is radiating in my lower back is making it difficult to breathe at all, and I’m freaking out that maybe I’m not doing it right. It’s two minutes into the class and I want to quit. And as I’m laying there I notice that some douche bag placed his mat way too close to mine, so his skanky feet are just inches away from my face. So now my back aches, I can’t breathe and all I can think of is feet. Finally she takes us out of death posture and we stand, takes me like 10 minutes longer than everyone else to get into position because of my aching back. Then she makes some remark about so many people crowding the back of the room and that she’ll have to pay extra attention to us – argh. I won’t go into detail, lots of sun salutations and lunges and reaching and breathing. I let out several toots, I know the too-close guy definitely got a whiff of at least one of them. I couldn’t help it, I tried to hold them in, but at some point you just can’t – and it’s his own damn fault for sitting so close. It was hard, wicked hard for a beginners class. We finally wrap up and are in corpse pose, different than the death pose I described earlier, and the Yogi comes around and lays hands on all of us. I don’t know what she did exactly, but she sort of rubbed the spot between my eyes, really hard, so it tingled for like a half hour after that. By the time I got home, I was sore and tired and starving so I ordered a giant bowl of pasta and ate it with white bread and butter and a giant full-fat coke and I don’t feel bad about it.

The "happiest" songs ever

This is a real posting from an Australian gay and lesbian focused Web site called samsame.com.au. (For full disclosure we stole this posting from D-listed, but thought you'd enjoy... )

To help celebrate the 30th Anniversary of Sydney’s Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras, last month we asked you to vote for what songs out of the vast catalogue of musical history you think deserve to be called camp classics.

We received thousands of votes, and now that they have all been counted counted and triple-checked, we’re proud to finally reveal exactly what songs have made it into the final list of the Gayest Songs of All Time.

20. Dolly Parton "9 to 5"
19. Coming Out Crew "Free, Gay And Happy"
18. Village People "In The Navy"
17. Frankie Goes To Hollywood "Relax"
16. Village People "Macho Man"
15. Judy Garland "Over The Rainbow"
14. Bronski Beat "Smalltown Boy"
13. Diana Ross "I'm Coming Out"
12. Cher "Believe"
11. Gloria Gaynor "I Am What I Am"
10. Alicia Bridges "I Love The Nightlife"
9. Madonna "Vogue"
8. Olivia Netwon-John "Xanadu"
7. Kylie Minogue "Better The Devil You Know"
6. Pet Shop Boys "Go West"
5. Kylie Minogue "Your Disco Needs You"
4. The Weathergirls "It's Raining Men"
3. Gloria Gaynor "I Will Survive"
2. Village People "YMCA"
1. ABBA "Dancing Queen"

We are sad clowns

I’m getting a little po’d on the negative blog comments lately. 2 and I lovingly labor, day in and day out, to bring you interesting, funny, ironic, silly kvetches all to add just a little bit more joy to your day. And what do we ask in return… nothing. A little comment here or there to tell us you think we’re funny or cute, that’s it. You know, we work hard, we have jobs and lives and homes and spouses and friends and dogs and we are busy. And sometimes we can’t think of funny things to say. It’s not that easy you know. And sometimes we feel blue, and when we are down, we’re not really trying to make the rest of you happy, we want you to be cranky too. And sometimes we feel great, and can’t come up with complainy things to say – it’s not often, but it happens. And what do you think we get paid for all this effort we put into our blog… that’s right nothing. None of you have clicked on our sad little google ad and you know it. And if you think you can do better, why not submit a guest-article – we’ve asked on more than one occasion, and you refuse to offer your creativity and humor. So all of you who take issue with the level of funny of our stories can suck it. As long as 2 and I are entertained, then we’re satisfied.

P.S. Hope this rant didn’t piss off like the 2 readers/commentors we have – meant no offense – love you guys.

P.P.S. To our new Vegas friend, ignore the above, you are awesome, and we like you.

P.P.P.S. We don’t know what P.S. stands for.

P.P.P.P.S. I’m doing yoga tonight for the first time, I guarantee I’ll hate it, so there will likely be a good old classic complainy kvetch tomorrow.

And something for the ladies...

Whatevs, we aren't into asses, we like big wallets!

Yay

There's still hope!

Too Tired

I am too tired to be funny today. So while I know my timing of this is a bit off (it would have maybe been more poignant this afternoon - as of 2 minutes ago Hil and Obam were 600 votes apart in Texas...ridiculous) - however this picture is sure to illicit a giggle or two, at the very least from Papa Ette.

Below is a photo from where Hillary Clinton's camp set up shop in Austin Texas. Yes, that would be in a community center restroom. Insert dirty office humor here. Guess the aide who ate all the team's bran muffins this morning will literally get caught red-handed when doody calls...

That's Amore!

While 2 was watching middle-aged men put their heads in snake tanks, I was watching skanky 20-something girls wrestle in a tub of spaghetti and meatballs on MTV's That's Amore - a stupid spin off of that "Shot at Love" dating show. I won't even bore you with the details, but it's basically like Flavor of Love with an Italian guy instead of a has-been rapper. So obviously I was less than entranced by the show and started checking out my fav celeb gossip site and came across a big picture of Kate Hudson's butt, which spurred a rousing discussion between Pants and I on the merits of said ass. He thinks it's perfection, I disagree. I'll admit that it's cute and devoid of any distracting elements like stretch marks or butt zits, but overall it's kinda flat and uninspiring. He thinks it's little, round and tight and awesome. I like big butts, I cannot lie - so this does nothing for me. What do you all think?

More stupid TV for the youth of America

Was just sitting in front of the telly with my NY Mag crossword puzzle (a Monday evening ritual since I was 22 yrs old) and what was on? "My Dad is Better Than Your Dad." Having never watched the show (for obvious reasons) and because I wasn't really watching anyway, I was teaching my brain new things like the fourth biggest constellation, or the main character in Guys and Dolls, or who won 4 tennis championships in the 90's, I kept it on. However because it was acting as background noise I caught a bit of the show, and I have to say, it scares me what this country is coming to. I honestly question the morality of bringing children into this world. The title of the show would suggest that at the very least, children were being given a platform (albeit a public one) to bond with their daddies and learn something from their wise old sage papas. Not so much.

Tonight's rendition of the show had dad's sporting goggles and submerging themselves headfirst into a tank full of snakes and tomatoes, in an awfully lame "bobbing for apples" rendition. "My Dad Bobs for Apples Better than Your Dad," is more like it. Woot the hell is so much better about that? Sounds kinda disgusting if you ask me. If I was mom it would be more like "My Husband is Not Gonna Get Kissed Ever Again After Sucking Snakes."

Then "dad" was quizzed (for 10k a question, no less) on things such as his kid's favorite movie, or who his kid thinks should play him in the Made for TV drama edition of their life. Is it just me or is this a blatant jab at the stereotype of father's not being involved, or knowing their kids well enough? I ask this. What ever happened to baseball in the backyard? Frisbee golf in the park? Fixing my broken skate? Teaching me algorithms? I seriously doubt I would consider my father smarter than someone else's father because he could navigate through snakes to chomp a tomato. This is entertainment?

Now if instead NBC would have "My Dad is Hotter Than Your Dad" and we role-reversed the MILF for the DILF and exploited daddy's good looks on TV, now THAT would be quality boob tube - although would we have to then change the name to Penis Tube? Food for thought. Happy Monday.

Eating Family-style: No thanks!

Spent some time with Angel Baby this weekend, and the love continues. She’s this perfect little bundle of smiley cuteness – and I’ve found, she’s cuter than basically every other kid in town. The other thing I found is when you have a kid in the city and you go out to restaurants they make you sit with other families with kids. That’s annoying. Other people’s children are annoying, they bang on tables, they drop things onto the floor, they cry and scream and are all around bad brunch company. Bro-in-law and I took AB to Cinema on the UES, and they lead us through aisles of empty tables with little flower vases on them to a sad little backroom where they store the families. It’s packed with strollers, and high chairs, and crayons and crap like that, along with weary parents who just seem happy to have put on pants that morning. They must take everything off the tables because kids grab at stuff and try to eat it, so it took us forever to get salt or sugar for our coffee. And as I sat with AB trying to get a piece of mushroom omelet passed her grabby fingers into my mouth, I glanced over at the happy couples sitting in booths in the non-family part of the restaurant. They looked so care-free and relaxed and enjoying a leisurely Sat. morning meal. Then I looked at the haggard, non-washed parents in my sad section, they were all skinny from lack of time to eat trying to keep kids occupied and they seemed all around tired. Then I looked at Bro-in-law and saw the same from him. He was wearing the plain white t-shirt he probably slept in and am pretty sure he hadn’t showered that am. And worse than that he was hacking up a lung because of the cold he got from the snotty kid. He was barely able to finish his banana pancakes, luckily, he persevered. Love AB to pieces, but am in no rush to join the ranks of NYC parenthood.

Discount Department Stores

I love discount stores. Loehmann's, Filene's, Century 21, HomeGoods. I take serious pleasure out of buying designer frocks and things at major major discount meltdowns. I pause to wonder why I would ever shop retail - and then I answer my own question - because I am impulsive. However I think I would be completely fine if I could only shop the discounts for the rest of my life. There's something insanely satisfying about wearing something that you look like a rock star in (figuratively, not literally) and girls compliment you all day long. It looks expensive, and at one time it WAS expensive. And there were plenty of loserettes who paid full price on impulse, or just to have the trend the moment it hit the shelves. I on the other hand peruse the racks at Loehmann's and I always find an insane bargain. I don't know what it is about me and discount stores but I work it like a prostitute in Atlantic City. Some of my MAY-JOR finds?

Alexander McQueen black kitten heels - originally $690, I paid $79.

J-Brand skinny jeans - originally $220, I paid $79.

Marc Jacobs silk corset top - originally $379, I paid $79.

There is something about discount stores and $79, btw. Everything always ends up costing $79. I don't know why.

However, one thing I don't understand about discount stores are their dressing room policies. The big open room with wall-to-wall mirrors and women lined up next to each other, all shapes and sizes and fleshy celluloid out for all to see. Now, if you are going to take part in this dressing room experience there is a code of conduct. And here it is ladies. Please take note, and act accordingly:

1. You do not blatantly stare at another woman while she is naked, half naked or trying on that hideous sequin dress. Everyone knows you are supposed to sneak inadvertent glances at them, sizing them up and making mental notes of the reasons you should be utilizing your gym membership.


2. Wear panties. Nothing is worse than catching sight of bush (during your inadvertent glance, of course) being shimmied into some skinny jeans. Trust me, I have seen this on more than one occasion. Nast. E.


3. Ladies, try things on that are your size. No, you did not go from a size 10 to a size 2 on your way to the dressing room. There is no excuse for you trying to sausage-squeeze yourself into anything that is not at the very least in your size "range." Just because that Marc Jacobs top is marked 70% off does not give you the right to rip it in half trying to get it on over your fat head.


4. Stop asking me how you look in things. Just because we are in a communal dressing room does not mean we came together, know each other, care one way or another whether you look good in something. This is no time for public service announcements. Bring a friend if you need reassurance. I don't want to bear the guilt of having to either be honest and tell you how awful that color is on you or on the flip side tell you how great you look and then watch you become another fashion casualty b/c of my inability to be honest.


5. Don't sit in the lurches waiting for me to take off and reject an article of clothing so you can pounce on it. This is not supermarket sweeps. It's quite horrifying actually when I am pulling something over my head and you are snatching it out of my hands before it even goes back on the hanger. Patience is a virtue.
   

That pretty much sums it up. Thanks for listening, and I hope to not have to see any of you in Loehmann's anytime soon. Stay off my turf.

Someone please help this guy

Look at the blood in his nose, it's too sad.

It's Leap Day!

February 29^th comes along once every four years. And I have no idea why, something about the earth’s orbit and the Roman calendar... I guess I may have learned the real reason why in like 3^rd grade science class, but that bit of learning has been pushed out of my head a long time ago and since has been replaced with something important like the theme song of Fresh Prince of Bel Air.

Now this is a story all about how
My life got flipped, turned upside down
And I’d like to take a minute, just sit right there
I’ll tell you how I became the prince of a town called Bel Air

If you are really interested in the leap year thing, here’s the explanation. You may want to read while you hum along to the FPofBA song.

From wikipedia:

Leap day

February 29 is a date that occurs only every four years, and is called leap day. This day is added to the calendar in leap years as a corrective measure, because the earth does not orbit around the sun in precisely 365.000 days.

A leap year (or intercalary year) is a year containing one or more extra days (or, in the case of lunisolar calendars, an extra month) in order to keep the calendar year synchronised with the astronomical or seasonal year. For example, in the Gregorian calendar, February would have 29 days in a leap year instead of the usual 28. Because seasons and astronomical events do not repeat at an exact number of full days, a calendar which had the same number of days in each year would, over time, drift with respect to the event it was supposed to track. By occasionally inserting (or intercalating) an additional day or month into the year, the drift can be corrected. A year which is not a leap year is called a common year.

“Yo homes, smell you later!”

Wicked awesome birthday gift

Thanks Flan

Week In Review

This has been a doozy of a week for yours truly. I'll tell you, anyone who lies to your face and tells you "It'll get easier..." well just drop 'em like a bad habit because they are lying sacks of potatoes.

What happened this week? Well for one, I have kicked the tar stick once and for all. That's right, I am done. And it is not fun. Husbandette has threatened me with annulment and I have to take him seriously...I know it is a dirty habit but what's wrong with a little 'dirty' every now and again? I mean, everyone loves a good dirty martini so why not a dirty cigarette? Oh well, I'm over it. Well not really, but each day it gets a little easier. Thank you Wellbutrin. And don't go blaming me if I replace my vice with food and get all chunky monkey on you.

What else happened? The miracle of life happened, that's what. Friendette's Mike and Erica Aisner welcomed a perfect and pink baby girl into the world on Monday. Her name is Mollie Irene Aisner and I would venture to guess this is her first Internet exploitation. Mollie, someday you will be able to search the Internets in the public library (like we used to with the dewey decimal system) because by the time you are old enough I bet the internets will have been converted into something else like the Brainernets where Google just implants your brain with all it's vast knowledge, but anyway I hope someday you can search out your name and find your first official shout out here on kvetchette. An official Kvetchette onesie is in the works...

Additionally, I took a new "long term" project which commences on Monday. It's very exciting and will mean more income for me, which means more shoes and bags for me, which means a happier me. Budgets be damned - mama's bringin' home bacon.

And lastly, we (husbandette and I) await a verrrrryy important decision in our lives. I don't like to talk about things prematurely, but let's just say, next Wednesday at 7pm is a very important day for us and so we ask that all Readerettes keep their well-manicured fingers crossed for us because we need all the positive powers of thinking we can get.

Okay, enough "cry me a river," it's back to business.

I am so over the winter

It’s like 30 degrees today, but feels like 10 with wind chills. We’re knocking on March’s door and its still bone chillingly cold. I am so over the winter, I want to wear my summer dresses and flip flops.

Here’s what I hate about the cold:

- Can’t wear cute little dresses

- Can’t really talk on the cell phone outside cause your little fingers get frost bitten

- Makes waiting for a cab miserable, which makes me cranky, which makes me rude to the other people standing on the street trying to get a cab. I look at them with death eyes and mutter curse works to myself warning them not to try to steal my cab.

- Makes me eat more, it’s cold so I order in, and I can never decide what I want so I order three things and eat way too much, then lay on the couch until I’ve digested enough to get my butt in the shower before bed.

- Need to wear the hood on my jacket which limits my peripheral line of sight which makes me bump into things

- Poison arrows show through all my shirts

- Can’t take dog out, she just stands there and shivers

I have to pee

I sort of have to pee all the time. I have to pee right now as I write this, but I don’t feel like getting up.

To pee in my office is requires finding the bathroom key, shuffling outside the office into the hall by the elevators and then usually waiting in line in our crappy little ugly bathroom. Then once I’m in the stall, it takes forever to get my butt on the seat. First I need to inspect the space. Did anyone leave pee all over the seat, was there some unfortunate poo incident that isn’t resolved in the area, is there adequate toilet paper, does anything seem inappropriate for proper sitting? Once I feel confident, I can begin to undress. I’m usually wearing tights which cut off my circulation when I try to wrench them down by my knees, and then I have to wrap the dress up in a ball by my wait to avoid any unfortunate slippage into the bowl. Or if I’m not in tights, I’m in some complicated 2-button, 3-hook closure pants and it’s a whole procedure to get them off. Finally at this point, I’ve waited so long, I’m almost leaking, I finally sit – oh yes I sit – I don’t have the balance to squat over the bowl and my aim is terrible. The whole freaking procedure takes forever and I’m always afraid I’m missing the one phone call I needed to take during the day while I’m away from my desk. So instead I sit here at my computer trying to think of dry places, keeping my legs crossed tight and hoping the urge will pass.