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Archive for August, 2009

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This guy has managed to bring my two favorite things together… Fast Food and Class! Do you think they would ever reward a Nobel Peace Prize to this guy? Cause, they should.

Extreme Makeover: Fast Food Edition

http://www.fancyfastfood.com/

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After seeing an early evening showing of  “Inglorious Basterds”, I came home changed into my PJ’s, logged onto Facebook, and excitedly waited for ” Big Brother” to start. It was yet another lovely Sunday summer evening. As I was about to head to the kitchen to make some food, my cell rang. It was one my best friends calling. I pick up wondering why after just dropping me off, she wanted to chat.

“Hello?”

“OMG. I NEED YOU TO COME OVER! RIGHT NOW! I AM FREAKING OUT. FLIPPING OUT.”  The voice on the other end was half crying/half hysterics/half insanity (yeah. yeah. I know that’s 3 halves. I’m not in the mood to  count.)

My heart pounding that I may have to call 911, I ask urgently “What is wrong!?”

“I was just in my bathroom, picked up a towel and a HUUUUUUUGE COCKROACH RAN OUT. OMG. HELP ME. I AM GOING TO DIE. OMG. I THINK I AM DYING. OMG. I NEED YOU TO COME OVER AND KILL IT RIGHT NOW.”

“Are you kidding?!?! I say with a breath of relief. “I’m in my PJ’s. Just shut your bathroom door till your man comes to your place later. He’ll kill it. Just calm down…”

“NO I CANNOT WAIT FOR HIM. I CANNOT GO IN THERE! I CANNOT BE IN MY PLACE WITH THAT THING ALIVE. I CAN’T BREATHE. I CAN’T MOVE. YOU ARE CLOSER AND I NEED YOU TO COME OVER RIGHT NOW.”

“Seriously?  It’s a cockroach. Yeah, it’s disgusting and gross, but… ” (at this point I realize no rational discussion on my end is going to change anything) ” OK fine. Let me change my clothes and I’ll be right over.”

I get dressed. Get into the car. My phone rings.

I NEEEEEEEED YOU TO STAY ON THE PHONE WITH ME UNTIL YOU GET HERE! I AM NOT OK! OMG! WHAT IF THERE ARE MORE? DO YOU THINK THERE ARE MORE? WHAT IF THEY ARE IN MY BED??? WHAT IF… WHAT IF.. WHAT IF… A 5 minute car ride with various cuss words, screams, whimpers, cries, and irrational thoughts ensues…

I arrive at her apartment to find my friend in hysterics standing atop her couch screaming like a lunatic. My friend, mind you who is a therapist, is highly trained to help people from falling off the deep end. OH. THE. IRONY.

“Give me a magazine. Give me some paper towels!” I order her.

“OMG, YOU ARE GOING IN THERE?! OMG WHAT IF ITS IN MY BED? OMG. I CAN’T. OMG. OMG. I AM NOT OOOOOO-K!!!”

“Yes, I see THAT! But stop screaming and give me something to kill it!”

I grab a magazine, some paper towels and go on a roach hunt.

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I hear screams from the other room. “DID YOU FIND IT? OMG. WHERE ARE YOU? IS IT THERE? ARE THERE MORE? IS IT DEAD YET!?! OMG. I AM GOING TO DIE!!!!!”

Ignoring her as I face my own fears of coming across a disgusting roach, I search the room. And there it is. It’s nasty! It’s big! WHACK. The bastard is DEAD.

I come out of the room with it rolled into the magazine and am ordered to go to the trash chute to dispose. I walk back in to a still insanely frantic friend pacing jumping around like a lunatic believing it has since spawned an entire village of roaches who are now occupying every empty space in her apartment.

Half paying attention to her insanity, half realizing she just has to process her emotions , I let her continue on like a irrational lunatic.  I sit down on the couch to check my blackberry (and to prove there are no roaches in her couch cushions)  I see I have a new BBM from another of my best friends… I open it…

I AM FREAKING OUT. DO YOU HAVE ANY BITES ON YOUR ARMS?

“No” I respond via bbm. Having just hung out with her the night before, outside in the sticky heat, she assumed any bites she had, I may as well.

YOU DON’T?! OH NO! I AM FREAKING OUT! I THINK I HAVE BED BUGS IN MY NEW PLACE! OMG. OMG… I AM GOING TO HAVE A PANIC ATTACK. I THINK I NEED TO GO TO THE HOSPITAL. I CAN’T BREATHE…

I call her… and thus begins a 30 minute conversation, attempting to calm yet ANOTHER frantic friend who is convinced the world is being taking over by bugs…  She is sending me links from the hundreds of articles she has already found about bed bugs. She is threatening to move from her newly purchased loft downtown, and to sleep in the hospital for the night. As I am about to head downtown to save her from the bugs and the loony bin she is about to land in, she pops a xanax and calms down, and calls an exterminator.

Thank god for Tivo… Two hours later, I finally got around to watching “Big Brother”

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How has THIS magazine avoided the pitfalls of the recession and the demise of the printed word? Who is funding this magazine? Lucifer? Michael Lohan?

http://www.girlsandcorpses.com/

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As if the real things weren’t bad enough, now you can cuddle with your very own Typhoid Fever! awwww!!! 

http://www.giantmicrobes.com/us/orderform.php

ebola-petri

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I blame this on Miley Cyrus. I also blame her for making my eardrums bleed… but that’s for another post.  

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Double the pleasure? Apparently not.

http://www.iheartchaos.com/content/meet-lauren-williams-woman-two-vaginas-more-you-know

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