Posts filed under ‘Not funny enough for the stage’

Top Ten Hurricane Irene Social Media Clichés.

What a crazy weekend!  Now that it’s all over and most of us survived, we can look back and have a chuckle.  I was glued to Facebook and Twitter for the storm and noticed some trends.  And I’m certainly guilty of a few of these (definitely #1 and #10).  How many did you do?  Can you think of any that I missed?

In no particular order, here are The Top Ten Hurricane Irene Social Media Clichés:

1) Booze as emergency supplies.

Example: Pictured: A gallon of Jack Daniels.  Caption: “Emergency supplies!”

2) Equating things a hurricane does to sexual things a woman might do.

Example: “Blows,” “Gets you wet,” and “Weakens.”

3) Reports of coffee establishment status.

Example: “OMFG! Starbucks is closed!”

4) Saying “Good night, Irene.”

5) Changing the lyrics from Dexys Midnight Runners’ song “Come on Eileen” to “Come on Irene.”

6) Mentioning the person in your life named Irene and personifying the storm accordingly.

Example: “Not to worry, if Hurricane Irene is anything like my cousin Irene, it just means we’ll get an ugly sweater for Christmas.”

7) Picture of fallen tree.

8 ) Being disappointed in the downgrade to tropical storm.

Example: “Is that all ya’ got, Irene?!”

9) Being horrified that other people are disappointed it was downgraded to tropical storm.

Example: “How can you be upset by a downgrade?  Just be glad everyone is safe.”

10) Reports about what peoples’ parents are saying or doing.

Example: “My mother just called and told me to get an umbrella. Uh, thanks, Mom.”

August 29, 2011 at 1:05 pm 1 comment

Here’s your $100, D-man.



This is the first time in my life I’ve lived in a building with a reliable super.  When he shows up, he gets shit done.  And with a smile.  This is new for me.  Most of my experiences in NYC housing have been pulling teeth with a cheap and mean/rude/abusive landlord.  (One time, I called my former landlord when the electricity went out.  His reply?  “It’s night time, what do you need electricity for?  Go to sleep.”)  But now, I have a great super.  He’s good with elevator chit-chat and he’s fast with a drill.  And thus, he deserves to be thanked at end-of-year-holiday-thanking time.

But alas, there’s one thing about him that sucks.  I have no idea what his name is.  Well, I can say it, sort of, I just can’t spell it.  And without knowing that, it’s hard to drop $100 into a personalized card — it just feels awkward.  It’s either Dimitri, Demitri, Demetri, Demetrius, or Demitre.  Or something like that.  And there’s no way to find out.  This year I thought we’d found our answer when we got a holiday card from him.  Finally!  It was signed, I swear, “Super and family” — no names.  He’s like a spy or something.

How bad is it to get a greeting card with your name completely misspelled?  Does the $100 soften the blow?  I think I’ll just fill out the card, “Roger, happy holidays to you and yours.”  That way, I’m so far off that it’s funny and he’ll think I’m being a kooky kook.  Good plan, right?  Who doesn’t love a kooky kook card with cash in it?

December 22, 2010 at 9:33 pm Leave a comment

With friends like this, who needs frenemies?

Recently, I was hanging out with three “friends” and the topic of cosmetic surgery came up.  Here is how the conversation went.  This conversation was rapid-fire after the first sentence.

Carrie: A friend of mine got a minor procedure done and I never thought I would say it, but the results are amazing and I might want it done, too.  She just looks so good.
Friend #1: What is it?  Botox for the lines on your forehead?
Friend #2: Teeth whitening for your discolored and yellow teeth?
Friend #3: Or Invisalign to correct the crookedness?
Carrie: No.
F1: An arm tuck for the flapping sagging skin on your upper arms?
Carrie: No.  What the fuck, you guys.
F2: Liposuction for the jiggle around your tummy, ass and thighs?
F3: Skin bleaching for your disgusting freckles?
Carrie: No.  Alright, I get it guys. Come on.
F1: Nose slimming for the chunky end of your nose?
F2: Crescent breast lift for your sagging boobs?
Carrie: What? Really? No.
F3: Filler for the lines around your mouth?
F2: Eyelid fat reduction for those drooping eyelids?
Carrie: Is that even a thing?  No.

And so on.

Oh, how they laughed and laughed at my plummeting self-esteem.  Good stuff.

December 5, 2010 at 6:52 pm Leave a comment

Things that scare me.

Not that you asked, but here is a list of my fears, from most to least feared:

  1. Being on the subway with no reading material.
  2. Dunkin’ Donuts employees.
  3. Death.
  4. Big mean dogs.
  5. Unknowingly going on stage with some kind of stain on my crotch.

It feels good to share.

July 18, 2010 at 8:24 pm 1 comment

File under WTF.

my best friendThis “news” article pissed me off enough to express my outrage on both Twitter AND Facebook, so please excuse my profanity-laced rant about it.  Here is the headline:

Poll: A third say pets listen better than husbands

What the fuck, indeed.  A third of who?  Losers?  People with no friends?  People who never should have gotten married?  Who are these people?

The headline was enough to make me not want to read the article but morbid curiosity lead me on.   Why is what morons are thinking “news” these days?  I will dismantle what is wrong with the world, through the eyes of this “news” piece here:

By SUE MANNING, Associated Press Writer Sue Manning, Associated Press Writer – Wed Apr 28, 12:34 pm ET

LOS ANGELES – Husbands, if you end up in the doghouse, consider it a promotion.

This is plain stupid.  Sorry, Sue Manning, but it is.

A third of pet-owning married women said their pets are better listeners than their husbands, according to an Associated poll released Wednesday. Eighteen percent of pet-owning married men said their pets are better listeners than their wives.

Again: You should not be married if this is true.  Or, if you are going through a rough patch in your marriage, as is normal from time to time, you should find some friends. Human friends.

Christina Holmdahl, 40, talks all the time to her cat, two dogs or three horses — about her husband, naturally.

Whoever happens to be with me when I’m rambling,” said Holmdahl, who’s stationed with her husband at Fort Stewart in Georgia. “A lot of times, I’m just venting about work or complaining about the husband.”

She thinks everyone should have a pet to talk to like her horse, Whistle, who’s been with her since she was 19.

“We all say things we don’t mean when we are upset about stuff,” she said. “When we have time to talk it out and rationalize it, we can think about it better and we can calm down and see both sides better.”

She admits to “rambling” which makes her a crazy person.  Also, Whistle hates you, it’s a fact.  Next.

It would be a toss-up whether Bill Rothschild would take a problem to his wife of 19 years or the animal he considers a pet — a palm-sized crayfish named Cray Aiken. His daughter brought it home four years ago at the end of a second grade science project.

Bill, a crayfish named Cray Aiken makes you a giant fucking idiot.  But let’s hear more:

Rothschild, 44, of Granite Springs, N.Y., considers Cray a better listener than his wife, “absolutely. She doesn’t listen worth anything.” He doesn’t get much feedback from the crustacean, but it’s been a different story over the years with family dogs and cats.

“You definitely feel much more comfortable sharing your problems with them,” he said. “A little lick from a big dog can go a long way.”

I will spell it out because it needs to be said: If you prefer the company of a crayfish to the company of your wife: Get a divorce, fuckbag.  GET A DIVORCE.

Overall, about one in 10 pet owners said they would talk their troubles over with their pets.

The poll also found that most people believe their pets are stable and seldom struggle with depression. Just 5 percent of all pet owners said they had taken an animal to a veterinarian or pet psychologist because it seemed down in the dumps. Even fewer said they’d ever given antidepressants to a pet.


But they weren’t opposed to the idea: 18 percent of those polled said they were at least somewhat likely to take a pet to a vet or pet psychologist if it was dejected.

WHAT THE FUCK?  First-world problems, people.

Ron Farber, 55, of Hoxie, Kan., said it’s easier to talk to his dog Buddy than his wife because “the dog doesn’t have an opinion.”

“I think better out loud. He doesn’t care what you say or do. He looks at you, pays attention, you walk through the problem in your mind and eventually, the answer comes. It’s not as easy when other people are offering opinions,” he said.

Ron, doesn’t like his wife because she “[has] an opinion.” Nothing bothers me more than when I’m talking to someone about my problems and they have an opinion.  Ron, GET A DIVORCE.

Is this what marriage does to people? People tell me there are things I “won’t understand until I’m married.” Is this one of those things? Thanks, I’ll pass. I’m trying not to become a giant fucking moron whose best friend is a crayfish.

Read the whole article here.

April 29, 2010 at 10:18 am 1 comment

Apologies to Miley Cyrus.

Damn that new Miley Cyrus song that’s stuck in everyone’s head like the death-vice of a new catchy pop-music song.  However, I recently had a revelation about that song that I would like to share.  Tell me if I’m alone in misunderstanding the subtleties of the lyrics of Party in the USA.

Here is the chorus of the song:

So I put my hands up
They’re playing my song
And the butterflies fly away
Noddin’ my head like yeah
Moving my hips like yeah

Now, I first heard that as “They’re playing MY song” as in, “Me, Miley Cyrus, MY song, the-song-I-sing-that-gets-played-on-the-radio-because-I’m-famous.”

Instead, the lyric is “They’re playing my SONG” as in, “The song I like, the-song-that-gets-me-excited-and-to-which-I-can-relate.”

Since I first heard that song months ago, until now, I thought the lyrics were really self-centered.  As in: “Gee, Miley, not everyone has songs played on the radio like you do.  I can’t relate to your ego-maniac lyrics.  Like, I’m sad until my song comes on the radio.  What kind of pop-star bubble are you living in?  I mean, it’s nice to be famous but you should learn about the real world.  Not everyone is a famous pop-star at 14 years old. Jeez.”

But as of yesterday, I understand the lyrics as when I’m feeling down and nervous, hearing my favorite song on the radio helps me forget my worries as in:  “Miley’s just like me.  I get scared and nervous until I hear my favorite song on the radio.  Then I nod my head like yeah and shake my hips like yeah.  This song is totally relatable to my life and to the human condition writ large.”

The other part of the lyrics that I now understand in this new context are:

And a Jay-Z song was on
And a Jay-Z song was on
And a Jay-Z song was on**

And later:

And a Britney song was on
And a Britney song was on
And a Britney song was on

Until yesterday, I understood that to mean, “these are the other famous people who are played on the radio in addition to my famous pop tunes.”  Now I understand it as, “these are some examples of the songs that I enjoy that make me move my hips like yeah.”

Sheesh.  Duh on me.  Maybe I’m getting too old to understand these kids and their music.  My apologies to Miley for misunderstanding her awesome and totally relatable lyrics. I will now make an effort to  move my hips like yeah.

**(It did come out that Miley doesn’t even listen to Jay-Z but whatever — it’s not like she claimed to have written the song.  For the record, the song we love to hate was written by Lukasz Gottwald, Claude Kelly and Jessica Cornish.)

December 20, 2009 at 8:41 pm Leave a comment

What a busy December I’m having.

So, here’s a tip: If you ever host a party and invite a lot of really awesome, funny and creative, yet lewd and perverted friends over and get them drunk, hide the dry erase marker from the calendar on your fridge.

See if you can guess the events that were there before the party and the events that mysteriously appeared on the calendar after the party:

12/1 – TV Day
12/4 – Carrie Hosts Gotham
12/5 – Housewarming
12/6 – Buy Tiff a gift day
12/8 – Put more sexy baby pictures on fridge
12/10 – Reduce anal leakage!
12/12 – Give Edith $1,000 day. 2pm
12/16 – Penile Enlargement
12/17 – High Colonic
12/18 – Low Colonic
12/19 – Laundry
12/23 – Penile Enlargement
12/24 – Snow is like coke!!
12/25 – JC’s B-day party BYOB
12/26 – ♥ Your Gaga
12/28 – Anus flush/Neti pot
12/29 – Vagina filthification day
12/30 – Vagina cleanse/Penile Enlargement
12/31 – Hyman reconstruction
1/1 – Beginning of your white history month

Any guesses?

December 15, 2009 at 9:55 pm Leave a comment

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Thursday, December 1st
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Sunday, December 11th
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