thisisnotreallyablogforreal

My brother is a married man. I'm not a mushy person. I haven't been planning my wedding since I was eight years old. In fact, I always figured I’d get hitched in Vegas or have a cyber wedding where guests can stay home in their pajamas and send instant Mazel Tov filled messages.
Yet, as I was walking down the aisle and looked at the chupah adorned with flowers, and all of my family crying while attempting to keep themselves from passing out by moving air around with “Brian and Kelly’s Wedding” fans, I knew that I was hooked. I totally want a wedding: white dress, big cake, envelopes with calligraphy, chupah, hora, challah and all.


Okay, maybe not. Not anytime soon at least. Although I cried tears of joy for my brother and my new sister-in-law that day, a little voice was still inside my head saying, “Thank god it’s not you!”

It was 92 degrees outside when we were taking pictures, and the bride was probably wearing five layers, if not more, but she still looked happy as a lark.
















This proves my theory that falling in love makes people irrational and masochistic.


****************************************************************

Chris Diclerico wrote me an open letter.

What do you guys think?
Is it creepy or cute?

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I happened to catch the last 20 minutes of Average Joe last night. I really think it's an amazing representation of how our shallow, beauty obsessed society crushes the hopes and dreams of wonky looking individuals. That's not true, but my roommate happened to be watching it and since the shared space in my apartment is one kitchen /dining room/entertainment center, I watched as well. I literally felt myself losing brain cells as I watched. It actually made me crave one of the eight million cheaply made shows on now that consists of old, overplayed clips, and regurgitated paparazzi pictures juxtaposed with sometimes funny, but mostly insignificant, comments by hard working actor/comics. I don't know what depresses me more, the fact the there are women out there who are meeting men on a show called Average Joe or the fact that there are college graduates out there telling people that they just did some amazing work commenting on, "Awesomely Bad Toenails" and "Take it to the Curb: going through celebs trash." (VH1, MTV, E, Bravo, A&E: I just made up these titles, on the spot! I would totally be willing to pitch these shows to you. You need me. Or, maybe I could be an actor/comic on any of your many shows that feature actor/comics? Please contact me. Please. I really need a TV credit. If I had just one more TV credit, I would finally be happy and love myself. Contact me! Please.)

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I walked into a tree branch this morning as I was attempting to add songs to a playlist on my iPod. Just when I finally conquered the whole walking while chewing gum thing. . .
I have to admit, having an iPod makes me feel really cool. I look down at my mini, metallic teal, new friend and I'm finally happy. I finally love myself.

It’s 93 degrees in Michigan. My sister and I decide to spend the day at the pool; hoping to get rid of tan lines and look our best in our strapless bridesmaid dresses. Since I failed to pack a swimsuit, I raid my mom’s closet and come across one of her fun, skanky bikinis from the seventies. I run down to the kitchen to model my nostalgic find. My mom is making some gigantic twenty-layer taco dip and looks up at me and smiles.
“Oh, I used to love that bikini.”
She grabs a knife and starts dicing baby tomatoes.
“I lost my virginity in that bathing suit.”
She continues dicing tomatoes.

No shady stalkers, “F” is for flu. Mindy was sick with the flu, didn’t sleep at all last night, and instead roamed the Internet’s surplus of humor/pop culture/diary-like sites while heavily medicated.
----------------------------------------
Dear people who blog, but can’t write,

I know blogging is supposed to have this unedited/in the moment style or something, but enough is enough. Stupid grammatical errors are still stupid grammatical errors whether you're attempting to make a joke about the news or rambling about your fear of death and philosophical beleifs.

Listen, I’m not perfect. I’m sure my writing contains spelling mistakes, syntax problems, word misuse, etc. However, at least I make a small, quick attempt at correcting any embarrassing grammatical errors before I send my writing to the server thing that makes it show up here.

Listen people who blog but can’t write, I’m sure you’re a really nice person, I’m sure you know everything there is to know about [insert subject of blog here,] but your writing ability is that of an ambitious second grader. Perhaps you should just post links and scrap the whole writing thing, or maybe just post pictures or quotes. I don’t know who encouraged you to, “write about that on the internet,” or “start a blog, reach the whole world” but they were wrong.

If, for some reason, you still feel the need to express yourself via the World Wide Web, please continue reading this post. I'll try and keep it short and simple for you.

Hugs and Kisses,
Mindy

Their: this is the one you use for possession.
Mindy stole their money and bought herself a new vibrator.

There: this is the one you use the rest of the time.
Look over there, Mindy’s buying a new vibrator.
Wow, there are over 20 kinds of vibrators in this store.

Somehow is ONE word.
One.
It’s not some how, it’s somehow.
One.Word.


Except: this is one that excludes things.
I ate everything on the table except the pancakes.

Accept: this is the one that includes things.
I will gladly accept those Krispy Kremes. Thank you.
Fun little reminder: X ‘s are harsh and unfriendly. CC’s are warm, fuzzy and personable.

Awhile: this is an adverb.
No, you go ahead Jane. There are so many sex toys here. I think I’ll stay awhile.

A while: is used when while is an object.
Mindy, you sick little whore, sit on my lap for a while.

Breathe: this one’s a verb.
Thanks to some Nyquil, some scotch, and some raw ginger, I am able to breathe through my nose today.

Breath: this one’s a noun.
I told him I “needed to focus on my career right now” because his breath always smelled like beer and garlic.

Immense: enormous, boundless, immeasurable etc.
The following words are NOT synonyms for immense.
Emense, Emmense, Immence, Amence, Amense

It is emmensely embarrassing that I just spelled immense that way.

Compliment: this is the one you use when you’re saying something nice.
“Yes, they’re real! Wow, thanks for the compliment”

Complement: I'm pretty sure this one’s used when two things supplement each other.
Jane loves to cook, but she's anorexic. Dick loves to eat, but he's really lazy. Wow, those two sure complement each other.

There’s more, oh so much more, but I have pack. I’m heading to Michigan this weekend. Oh, always a bridesmaid. . .

So someone actually sent me an e-mail in regards to my Ben Wallace proposal saying that "partying with the Jewsih people" doesn't sound like a good time blah, blah, blah.

Hello?!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Does this




not look




like a good time?!!!



Look again dude, my dad is wearing a glow necklace on his head.

On.his.head!

My shoes broke open due to excessive fun-filled dancing.




and I had to tie them together with dental floss!


(If anyone associated with Steve Maddon is reading this,I would really like my money back. They were 89 dollars. Ok, that's not true. I got them on sale for 11 dollars at Daffys and I tore off the tacky jewlery peice thing that probaly held them together. But, 11 dollars is not a small amount of money and I want it back.)

Ok I think I've made my point: Jewish people party hardcore.


On a totally unrelated note.


pic thanks to drudgereport

Yeah.
Ok all you people who think cats are freaky and deserve to die, you win.

I think this might be too long for overheard in new york so I’ll just post in here.

Female 1: So how do you like your new FREE place?
Female 2: It’s great.
Female 1: Yeah, you got so hooked up.
Female 2: I know, and he got me a job at his ad agency.
Female 1: You so lucked out.
Female 2: I know, I was gonna break up with him, but now I can’t for awhile now.
Female 1: You’re so bad.
Female 2: I am not! It’s not like he’s not getting anything out of the relationship. I’m having sex with him.
Female 1: Oh my god, you’re kinda like a prostitute except instead of cash you get an apartment and job!
Female 2: Oh my god. Yeah!
[They high five]

They high five!
It was both awesome and scary to witness.

There are certain times when it’s acceptable to high five:

You’re teammate assists you on the two pointer that wins the basketball game: high five.

You’re favorite [insert sport here] team just scored and won the game that you and your buddies bet money on: high fives all around.

You've just been informed that it's National High Five day: high fives until bedtime.

You just won the three legged race at the state fair beating out last year’s winners: double high five.

And certain times when it’s unacceptable to high five:

Don’t high five your partner after sexual intercourse.
Don’t high five your partner after oral sex.
Don’t high five your girlfriend after she says she’ll marry you.
Don’t high five your buddy after he gets a number at the bar.
And most importantly,
DON'T high five your friend after you both realize that you're ‘kinda like a prostitute.’

I can’t think of any more yes and no high five situations. Anyone?

So someone posted this in the comment section and then actaully sent me it as an e-mail with a "Larry Brown" gmail account.

hmmm....

I had no idea this Ben Wallace thing would stir up so much hate/'have threesome with me Mindy' e-mails. If I weren't so lazy, I would post some of them here, but that would mean I would have go back to my inbox and read them all again and pick out the ones that are the most entertaining, and it's happy hour on 9th avenue so . . yeah.

Date: Tue, 14 Jun 2005 03:11:26 -0700
From: "Larry Brown" Add to Address Book
Yahoo! DomainKeys has confirmed that this message was sent by gmail.com. Learn more
To: mindy@mindyraf.com
Subject: Pistons


Dear Mindy Raf,
You are a clever and resourceful young woman, and to my dismay, until
now, I have underestimated your deceptive malevolence and guile. You
see, it is normal for many women your age to have a natural proclivity
towards dating professional athletes. They are after all our modern
day gods, every inch of their magnificent physique seemingly chiseled
from stone by the great Michaelangelo himself. However, this time you
have gone too far my little crème Brule. Even now on the eve a
championship, you, oh saucy goddess of bountiful Jewish bosom-- dare
to hijack the very heart and soul of our great franchise, one Ben
Wallace. Like the wild lemur stealthfully stalking it's prey on the
island of Madagascar, YOU, Mindy Raf have set out like a sly creature
of the night to selfishly devour the object of your adulation. Now, I
realize my men are highly disciplined and focused individuals, and
under "normal" circumstances I would not object to beautiful women
soliciting them for "wild sex," as their inherent willpower and
strength of character would surely allow them to maintain their course
on this championship road of yellow brick. However, your forward
advances can by no means be lumped together with the all of the other
innocuous pleas of carnal delight. No, your brazen attempt to shake
the resolve and focus of Mr. Wallace has come under my direct personal
scrutiny. You bombard his psyche with haunting images of your scantly
clad torso enraptured in what I can only imagine the French call
"Manage a toi". Lets not play coy here miss Raf, I know that you know
that Mr. Wallace has been a long time follower of your blog and
regular column on the popular collegehumor.com. And by now miss Raf
you must realize that your raw sexual prowess and sultry vixen-like
ways would tempt even the most chaste and deeply pious men of the
cloth. So it is with this in mind that I say to you please, stop and
desist. Your overt sexual advances threaten to derail the hopes of
our great franchise and instead place them on the road towards
entropy. My pistons, during times of heightened conference play are
not allowed to engage relations that are sexual in nature. So Mindy,
if you really care about Ben you'll forget all about his "incredible
arm span and overall strength," and touching him in his no-no spot. I
realize it may be difficult for you to follow through in this course
of action, especially since rumors of Ben's legendary "Black Anaconda"
have become commonplace among fans of African American porn. But just
know that your compliance with my request will be serving the greater
good. May you find solace in the fact that your actions or rather
lack thereof will ultimately allow for Ben to assume his rightful role
among the annals of NBA lore. Besides, it is not safe for Ben to have
sex with white women less than six feet tall, they run the risk of
sustaining massive lesions to their cervix, and involuntarily having
words like "bouya", "percolate", and "crunk" come out during regular
conversations with other white people, and in some rare cases death!!!
Thank you for your time.
Sincerely,
Coach Larry Brown
Detroit Pistons

finally had enough internet today to fix the photo

I also just built a shelving unit in 20 minutes and the package said 30.

I'm amazing.

Upon moving and getting rid of many of my possessions, a fung shui like purity entered my life. Therefore, I decided to extend that cleansing to my cellular phone. As I was deleting names, I realized that I was eliminating a lot of guy friends that have crossed platonic boundaries with me in the past. I would hate for one of those guys to realize I have cut him out of my life and not know why. So, I have composed the following form letter. If this applies to you, please read over a couple of times or e-mail me for a wallet size print out. As for the rest of you, feel free to personalize and forward this on to ‘friends’ as needed.


Dear [insert name here]

Listen, I know you said we’d still be friends, but I think we both know the truth. I mean, come on, we were never REALLY friends. Looking back I see that we both pretended to be interested in each other’s lives because of society. See, society made you ask me all those questions about my family because you thought it would make me fell less like a whore, and society made me ask you all those questions about your family so that when I was on my knees (in your cheaply decorated apartment) I could think to myself, “well at least I got to know him, I’m not a whore.”

It’s ok dude, don’t feel ashamed. It’s no big deal. It was a long time ago, and we’ve both moved on. I’m not pining away for you, and you’re not (I hope) staring at my picture on the internet and wishing we had “hit it off.”

So, anyway, I just wanted to let you know that our pseudo friendship is officially over. Yeah, I’m taking you off my mass e-mail list. That’s right, no more updates on my life, no more e-mails about new phone numbers or change of addresses, and no more invites to parties or get-togethers. Oh, and no more drunk dialing/text messaging me after hours. I’m erasing you from my cell phone and I expect you to do the same.

I know you might be thinking to yourself, “wow, I really liked pretending I was friends with Mindy; I’m gonna miss that.” I know, but think about this: now when we run into each other on the street we don’t have to have one of those

“Hey, how are you?”
“Good. How are you?”
“Good . . .so how are things?”
“Ah . . .pretty good. “

conversations. Nope, now we can just smile awkwardly at one another the way two people do when they’ve seen each other naked and know they’re not burdened with the task of attempting to remain friends.

Well, I’m so glad we’re on the same page here buddy. Have a wonderful rest of your life, and a great rest of the summer.

: )
~Mindy

Hi, I just wanted to write and say great game last night. I know you guys kind of lost, but I thought you played really well. It was just a tough game you know cause that Ginobili dude was like everywhere and every time you guys missed a shot he would take the ball and start dribbling the other way. Not fun. I mean I’m no basketball expert or anything. I did use to watch the Pistons all the time though— when they wore those short shorts, and were called the “Bad Boys,” and I played that Bill Lambeer Combat video game—sorry, I digress. I’m writing because I think we should go out on a date.

I know you’re probably thinking,“Hello? I’m Ben Wallace, I’m a professional basketball star, why would I want to date a relatively unknown female comedian living in NYC?” Listen, I’m sure you get hit on by lots of hot women, but I’m not some vapid, accessory just interested in your money. No, I’m a lot of fun, and I promise that in between wild sex we won’t stare off into space unable to communicate with each other and both wishing we were by ourselves eating takeout. Yeah, it will be wild Ben, don’t let the good little Jewish girl image fool you. I’m a freakin’ animal, and I think

my independent spirit,


coupled with your incredible arm span and overall strength



would equal some good times.

Ok, scratch the wild sex. I think you’re married, and I’m not the kind of girl to canoodle with men who are in committed relationships. Ok Ben here’s the deal. My brother’s getting married in a couple of weeks and I was hoping you would be my date for the wedding. Again, I know you’re thinking, “What’s in it for me?” Hmmm. Well, I did promise a couple dudes in the past that they would get my brother’s wedding weekend and a threesome as part of a package deal, so I’m willing to extend that offer to you as well (providing your wife is down with it of course). So what do you say? I just know my parents would be so proud of me if I got a professional NBA star to dance the Hora with them on this joyous occasion. Plus, I’ve dated a lot of short/effeminate men in the past and I need to bring home someone that will solidify my heterosexuality once and for all.

Also, I know it must be hard working in such a competitive environment surrounded by men who are just as tall and just as strong as you, that’s why I think you’d love partying with the Jewish people. My tallest family member is 5’7’’! You would so be the man!

The wedding’s on the 25th, and it’s in Detroit! I know you’re probably really busy with this whole basketball championship thing, but hey, you deserve a night off and some free food right? Ok, so please e-mail me mindy@mindyraf.com and I’ll send you details. I’m so excited about our potential one night relationship and I promise I’ll wear heels so we can slow dance.

Love,
Mindy

and I just changed two poopy diapers.
Yeah, a nice smelly start to my quarter life.
If you’re in NYC, come wish me happy birthday this Saturday night at
sweet and vicious.

Now go outside right now and get off the computer.
Unless, of course, you have to be inside on a computer for work.
No, take the day off, get some Sangria, go to the park!
Tell your boss it’s my birthday, they’ll understand.

I REALLY NEED TO FOCUS ON MY CAREER
By Mindy Raf

These are things men have said to me while we were getting to know one another that made me decide I was “too busy with work right now for a relationship.”

“I usually date blondes, all my ex-girlfriends have been blonde.”

“I like tall women. I mean I’m attracted to all types, but there’s nothing like a long-legged tall woman.”

“You have huge eyes. I’m a blue eye type kinda guy myself, but yours are kinda nice.”

“See, most people would think that girl over there is too skinny, but I don’t think so. Sometimes curves are overrated. Most people think really thin girls are not attractive, but I think they’re hot.”

“I don’t have a type. Ok, maybe Kate Bosworth. Yeah, that’s my type. Kate Bosworth.”

“Looks aren’t that important. I’m not a shallow guy. Besides, when you with someone you’re not really attracted to, you can just picture yourself with someone else.”

“You’re a good looking chick. That’s good. Looks are important. I mean, I know it’s PC to say, ‘oh I want her to be smart and interesting’ but that’s such BS.”

“Are you laughing cause you think what I said was funny, or cause you want me to think you think what I said was funny? Cause, you know, I’m trying my best here, but you’re the comedienne, so don’t laugh at my jokes unless you REALLY think they’re funny.”

“I should do stand-up. It’d be a hell of a lot easer than law school.”

“You know what’s so funny? Midgets. Midget and retards. Ha! That’s always gotta kill right?”

“Oh, well my ex-girlfriend loved reality TV, but I guess everyone’s got different taste.”

“Oh, well my ex-girlfriend thought that joke was hilarious, but I guess you guys have different senses of humor.”

“My ex was a psycho bitch. All women are psycho bitches.”

“Just so you know, my last girlfriend gave really amazing head. [wink]”

“Let’s see, there was ‘the environmentalist,’ then there was ‘the Jewish American Princess,’ then there was ‘the actress,’ then there was ‘the gymnast/nutritionist,’ then there was ‘hot unemployed girl,’ then there was ‘the academic,’ and I guess you’ll be ‘the comedienne’. . .”

“I’m the type of guy that can be in a serious relationship with a girl for a long time and not even like her that much.”

“I’m a really sensitive guy, so I’m always leading women on. It’s a problem.”

“I like to keep things casual. You know? Chill. I don’t like making plans. If you call me and I’m free then, hell yeah, let’s hang out. But, you know, I don’t know cause stuff is always happening. Things are grillin’ for me all the time. Shit is unexpected.”

“My schedule’s kinda crazy right now. I’m usually free to hang out like after midnight or maybe later . . .”

“I’m definitely ready to get married.”

“So, how long do you usually date a guy before fucking him?”

“God, it’s so weird. You look just like this girl I met speed dating last week.”

“You know what’s weird? The walls of this restaurant are the same background color I just picked out for my blog.”

“I just posted about that very subject on my blog.”

“It’s a beer blog. It gets over 30 hits . . . a day!”

“No, don’t get offended. I don’t think less of you cause you eat red meat. (takes long drag of cigarette) I just might have trouble making out with you if I know you just, like, had a steak or something.”

“I think we’re all going to hell. Not just the Jews, everyone. We’ve all sinned, and stuff. It’s inevitable.”

“I don’t like opinionated people, especially women.”

“Do you like camping?”

“We should go rollerblading one day?”

“I like food; I mean you have to eat right? But I don’t LOVE food. There are a million and one things I’d rather do than eat.”

“Did you see that Jimmy Fallen, Queen Latifah movie? Comedy Gold!”

“Last night I got so drunk I passed out on the street. Don’t know how I got home. It was Comedy Gold!”

“Do you ever watch Newlyweds? Comedy Gold!”

“I’m digging your scarf. You wouldn’t think teal would go with Burnt Sienna, but it looks really nice.”

“Do you highlight your own hair, or are those copper tones natural?”

“Can I get the Pink Pussy Cosmo with extra grapefruit juice and—what do you want to drink?”

Yeah.
I have fan club

That's right you guys, this is an ego boosting, narcissistic post and I don't care. It's been a cold winter, a tough year, and this totally made my day.
Mallory and her sister Holly both sent me instant messages one day while sitting next to each at their respective computers. It was a strange and thrilling experience being IMed by two fan sisters simultaneously. They decided that they would be the co-presidents of my fan club. I just thought it would be the two of them, and more a of joke, but last weekend they actually made a page.


They're awesome.
Thanks guys!!
Most people would bow their heads in embarrassment or modestly say: "A casual internet fan club? Oh my god, how embarrassing!" But not me, I post it on my blog.

/end narcissism

Saturday was my future sister in law's bachelorette party.We started at luck cheng's of course, and I think we ended up dancing at Niagara (though that's where I got a little blurry)

pic thanks to joonbug
and then made our way over to a bar in the meatpacking district.

It was one of those places that was too cool to display the name of the bar, and had like a million people outside looking all polished and pretty. We knew someone doing PR for bar, so we got to walk through the line to the VIP room. I'm sure for all you NYC partiers that kind of thing is no big deal, but I'm all about the 3 dollar beer, dart playing, dive bar kinda night, so I felt sort of cool wearing a VIP bracelet and walking past hoards of tube tops fitted tightly over spray tanned skin.

Go here to read about my friend Carrie's experience at another swanky-type establishment.

Well, I'm officially moved. This morning when I awoke, I was able to flip on my light, check my e-mail, and open my closet door without getting out of bed. Ah, the perks of the 61/2 by 81/2 nyc bedroom.

so I haven’t had much time to write this week, but I've still managed to surf the web for hours and provide you guys with tons of awesome links that represent this crazy, wacky, world.

Yeah, no.
But I'm sure there are tons of other blogs out there chock-full of links and unfunny commentary. So, to the guy who wrote me the e-mail: "You should post more links" I hope you find them.

On a side note, I did happen to check out my friend Bob's blog yesterday and was overjoyed when I saw this
The Seacrest, "OUT" tampon.
Apparently he's running a tampon design contest. I don't really understand why . . . maybe it's an inside blogger joke. I don't know. It doesn't matter though, because he put Ryan Seacrest in a tampon, and that's just funny.