thisisnotreallyablogforreal
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
The Miss Education of Jenna Bush
My friend Melissa Rauch is not only hilarious, but she’s one of the nicest people I’ve met doing comedy. She's doing a one woman show at the fringe festival.Go see it
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Monday, July 25, 2005
I'm not ashamed
Ordered what I thought was a reasonable amount of food from burritoville: nachos, 2 chicken mole soft tacos, and a grilled vegetable fluata. Usually if I think I've ordered an embarrassing amount of food, I'll scream out "Guys, food's here!" so the delivery person doesn't judge me. I used to do that when Domino' s had that 1 medium two toping pizza, 1 order of dots, and 2 1 liter cokes for 13.99 deal. I used to add names to my shout out to make it more legit.
"Becky! Roy! Claire! Pizza's here!"
I didn't shout out anything when the buriitoville deleivery guy came. Then I looked in the bag. Three packages of plastic silverware. Three!
F@*ck you burrtioville.
What gives you right to tell me how many people you think my order feeds?!
pic thanks to sondraslair
Friday, July 22, 2005
Friday Rambles
I actually had a guy go up to me recently and say,
“Hey, are you from Long Island? You look familiar?”
I was at a bar, on my way back from the bathroom, and heading towards my friends. I was out with a bunch of guys that night, and I was hoping the look I gave them would translate to, “come over and rescue me.” I think they interpreted it as, “Mindy’s flirting with a guy, we’ll leave her alone,” because they smiled at me and stayed where they were.
“Nope, I’m not from New York.”
And of course my answering back politely gave him every reason to respond with,
“I’m not a breast man.”
“Ah, ok.”
“Yeah, that’s a shame. I'm not a breast man”
After politely listening to him describes his ideal woman, I finally excused myself.
When I hear a guy say something like, “I’m not a breast man.” I automatically file him under “creepy and potentially a homosexual.” I’m sorry, I don’t mean to offend women with flat chests and I understand that some guys like big boobs and some guys don’t, but it's shady when a guy specifically tells you that flat chests turn him on. Men who are turned on by flat chests are probably the same kind of men who are only turned on by a woman if she’s completely shaven down there. Although it’s nice and fun once in while to wax everything off, the combination of having a flat chest and being bare down there results in a look I would label as pre-pubescent. Maybe my standards are a little high, but I don't really want to get to know a guy who is turned on by someone who looks pre-pubescent.
**********************
Had lunch the other day with a guy that I haven’t seen in a long time and I said,
“You haven’t really kept in touch. What’s up with that?
And he said,
“My girlfriend doesn’t like you.”
(I've met his girlfriend once, like 4 months ago. I think our conversation was,
"Hey,nice to meet you I"m Mindy." "Hi.")
And then he said,
“Don’t write about this in your blog.”
And I said,
“Ok, I won’t”
I hope he said that because she reads my blog.
I’m SO LIKABLE you bitch.
Way to tighten the reigns though, I really admire controlling, insecure women.
You go girl!
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“Hey, are you from Long Island? You look familiar?”
I was at a bar, on my way back from the bathroom, and heading towards my friends. I was out with a bunch of guys that night, and I was hoping the look I gave them would translate to, “come over and rescue me.” I think they interpreted it as, “Mindy’s flirting with a guy, we’ll leave her alone,” because they smiled at me and stayed where they were.
“Nope, I’m not from New York.”
And of course my answering back politely gave him every reason to respond with,
“I’m not a breast man.”
“Ah, ok.”
“Yeah, that’s a shame. I'm not a breast man”
After politely listening to him describes his ideal woman, I finally excused myself.
When I hear a guy say something like, “I’m not a breast man.” I automatically file him under “creepy and potentially a homosexual.” I’m sorry, I don’t mean to offend women with flat chests and I understand that some guys like big boobs and some guys don’t, but it's shady when a guy specifically tells you that flat chests turn him on. Men who are turned on by flat chests are probably the same kind of men who are only turned on by a woman if she’s completely shaven down there. Although it’s nice and fun once in while to wax everything off, the combination of having a flat chest and being bare down there results in a look I would label as pre-pubescent. Maybe my standards are a little high, but I don't really want to get to know a guy who is turned on by someone who looks pre-pubescent.
**********************
Had lunch the other day with a guy that I haven’t seen in a long time and I said,
“You haven’t really kept in touch. What’s up with that?
And he said,
“My girlfriend doesn’t like you.”
(I've met his girlfriend once, like 4 months ago. I think our conversation was,
"Hey,nice to meet you I"m Mindy." "Hi.")
And then he said,
“Don’t write about this in your blog.”
And I said,
“Ok, I won’t”
I hope he said that because she reads my blog.
I’m SO LIKABLE you bitch.
Way to tighten the reigns though, I really admire controlling, insecure women.
You go girl!
Thursday, July 21, 2005
So You Think You Can Run the Country?
Reality TV Show to Seek Political Talent
Wed Jul 20 2005 21:31:20 ET
The participants engage in a series of challenges, both in and out of Washington, that test their political skills. Two hopefuls, one of each political stripe, will be eliminated each week. The last man or woman standing wins $1million to spend on a cause or candidate in the 2006 election.
read drudge article
Don’t give the winner 1 million dollars to donate to a cause or candidate, make the winner a candidate in the next presidential election. Let’s face it, reality TV is not going away. If you’re like me, you see reality TV as that dude who comes to your house party really early-- while you’re still putting out the pretzels and hiding all your valuables-- and then sticks around after everyone’s gone home and asks for another beer. Still, many Americans enjoy the company of cheaply made, mind numbing entertainment. Yup, America loves their reality TV. That's why I think we should have a realty show that elects our next president.
“So You Think You Can Run The Country?”
Six ordinary Americans are chosen at random to live in a Georgetown townhouse, but only one will be President. They’ve all passed their GEDS in less than three tries, but do they have what it takes to be world leader?
Each contestant will take two hours of government 101, participate in one physical challenge, and will be assigned one domestic duty on the house work wheel.
“I’ll swifer the floor while I learn about checks and balances. It’d be nice living in the White House; having a home without wheels n stuff”
And that’s not all. One lucky, unfortunate looking contestant will team up with a plastic surgeon and receive a brand new face identical to a world leader of their choice.
“So You Think You Can Run the Country?”
Find out what happens when people stop getting real and start leading the free world.
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
hmmmm
In an attempt to locate the IP address of someone who left a NASTY comment that I have since deleted (my mom reads this) , I found this in the free tracking thingy.
Ska vi byta NY bloggar med varann? Själv är jag seriöst beroende av
http://www.thisisnotreallyablogforreal.blogspot.com/
anyone want to translate?
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Ska vi byta NY bloggar med varann? Själv är jag seriöst beroende av
http://www.thisisnotreallyablogforreal.blogspot.com/
anyone want to translate?
Tuesday, July 19, 2005
Girls Refuse Shocker
NEW YORK--According to a recent study by the New York University department of psychology, 75% of all 17-25 year old males have tried to stick their pinkies up a woman’s ass. The same study also reports that 9 out of every 10 women are angered and disgusted by the act of a male putting his pinky up her ass. You do the math.
This sophomoric pinky sticking phenomenon has been coined the shocker and has swept over the young adult nation much like a case of herpes in a small high school. Some men do it to startle their prey, others have anal fetishes, and some are just under the impression that a woman enjoys having her vagina and anus treated like an open electrical socket.
Debbie Dishwall, a sophomore at Florida University, had this to say on the subject:
“I really liked Mike, and things were going really well. The first night I spent at his apartment was amazing. He was a complete gentleman. Then, the next night, he stuck is pinky—you know where .With no warning and no asking for permission, all I could do was scream out, “What are you doing with your pinky?! Remove it! Remove it!” but it was too late. The damage was done.”
After her invasive encounter, Debbie decided to take action and formed WAPIA. Women Against Pinkies In Assholes. After just one month of heavy recruiting, WAPIA has over one thousand members and is growing each day.
WAPIA women are encouraged to speak out against the shocker and other unpleasant things that men think women enjoy. “Like watching sports!”
Last Saturday, hundreds of women gathered in NYC for the very first Women Against Pinkies In Assholes picnic. They sat on quilted blankets and wore t-shirts that read, “REMOVE IT!” while discussing ways to kill off the shocker once and for all. As I sat on a blanket munching on some fried chicken, Debbie spoke to me; her eyes glistening with tears of emotion. “If I can stop just one guy from sticking his pinky where it doesn’t belong, then I’ve succeeded.”
Many men, like ex frat boy and current money marketer Sean Brutson, are confused by the presence of WAPIA. Sean feels that women are sending out a mixed message.
“She’s wearing a skirt and she’s drunk AND she’s kissing me. Come on! She’s practically begging for my pinky. She’s practically shouting out, ‘Shock me Sean! Come on, shock me!’ ”
Is Sean right? Are some women begging for the shocker? “You’re damn right we are!” says Lana Thomas, Sean’s ex girlfriend and former erotic “performance artist.”
“The shocker is like Christmas, you know? You can’t just destroy Christmas. The shocker is like . . . it’s like when you’re eating vegetable fried rice and you find a little piece of pork in there and you’re like, ‘oh! What a happy surprise!’”
And there you have it. Some women see the shocker as a “happy surprise,” while others are taking action to destroy it. It’s this kind of controversy that makes America a tapestry of diversity, and keeps men’s pinkies on their toes.
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This sophomoric pinky sticking phenomenon has been coined the shocker and has swept over the young adult nation much like a case of herpes in a small high school. Some men do it to startle their prey, others have anal fetishes, and some are just under the impression that a woman enjoys having her vagina and anus treated like an open electrical socket.
Debbie Dishwall, a sophomore at Florida University, had this to say on the subject:
“I really liked Mike, and things were going really well. The first night I spent at his apartment was amazing. He was a complete gentleman. Then, the next night, he stuck is pinky—you know where .With no warning and no asking for permission, all I could do was scream out, “What are you doing with your pinky?! Remove it! Remove it!” but it was too late. The damage was done.”
After her invasive encounter, Debbie decided to take action and formed WAPIA. Women Against Pinkies In Assholes. After just one month of heavy recruiting, WAPIA has over one thousand members and is growing each day.
WAPIA women are encouraged to speak out against the shocker and other unpleasant things that men think women enjoy. “Like watching sports!”
Last Saturday, hundreds of women gathered in NYC for the very first Women Against Pinkies In Assholes picnic. They sat on quilted blankets and wore t-shirts that read, “REMOVE IT!” while discussing ways to kill off the shocker once and for all. As I sat on a blanket munching on some fried chicken, Debbie spoke to me; her eyes glistening with tears of emotion. “If I can stop just one guy from sticking his pinky where it doesn’t belong, then I’ve succeeded.”
Many men, like ex frat boy and current money marketer Sean Brutson, are confused by the presence of WAPIA. Sean feels that women are sending out a mixed message.
“She’s wearing a skirt and she’s drunk AND she’s kissing me. Come on! She’s practically begging for my pinky. She’s practically shouting out, ‘Shock me Sean! Come on, shock me!’ ”
Is Sean right? Are some women begging for the shocker? “You’re damn right we are!” says Lana Thomas, Sean’s ex girlfriend and former erotic “performance artist.”
“The shocker is like Christmas, you know? You can’t just destroy Christmas. The shocker is like . . . it’s like when you’re eating vegetable fried rice and you find a little piece of pork in there and you’re like, ‘oh! What a happy surprise!’”
And there you have it. Some women see the shocker as a “happy surprise,” while others are taking action to destroy it. It’s this kind of controversy that makes America a tapestry of diversity, and keeps men’s pinkies on their toes.
Monday, July 18, 2005
Titty Titty in the City
I did a show at STAND-UP NY on Saturday night and left the club around 1:45. It was so nice out that I couldn't bear getting on the hot, smelly, subway so I decided to walk home to my apartment in Hell's Kitchen. Yeah, not the smartest thing to do,
I talk about, and sing about this subject a lot because I still can't believe that men actually say these things to women as they walk by.
These are just some of things I remember hearing men say to me on my walk home that Saturday night.
Titty Titty in the City
Sick girl. You're sick!
God bless you and your mamma.
God bless you.
Shit! Are those home grown or store bought?
You're pretty. Wanna ride?
Get in the car, I don't bite girl.
Wanna ride? Wanna ride ME? HA!
B double O-T-Y!
[bark] Throw me a bone, heh, throw me a bone. [bark]
Walking home from the subway on the Upper East Side after midnight is no big deal. Nobody bothers you save for lots of drunk, thirty something white men clad in GAP button downs shirts roaming the streets shouting out obscene things like, "I make eighty thousand dollars a year! Please fuck me!"
It's true. I lived on the Upper East Side for two years. I must have walked home, late at night after comedy shows, hundreds of times. Not once did I fear some guy was going to force himself upon me. In fact, when looking back on my years on the UES, the one positive neighborhood trait that stands out is the no hassle, late night walk home. With this in mind, I think real estate ads for the UES should read:
The Upper East Side: dress like a whore and strut around after hours. It's safe!
The Upper East Side: the place to live if you wanna get engaged to a white male who makes more than 50 thousand dollars a year, or want to be assaulted by a white male who makes more than 50 thousand dollars a year, or just have the desire to walk around un chaperoned late at night. It's safe!
I still can't believe men bark at women. I just don't understand it.
Do these men honestly think that this kind of behavior is going to get them laid? Do they think that women just walk down the streets thinking, "You know, I haven't had sex with a homeless looking stranger inside an old car in a really long time, so hopefully some dude will honk or bark at me so I can take care of that!"
Women, on the other hand, would totally get laid if they barked or honked at men. If I drove down the street in a shady looking car screaming, "Nice cock! Is it real? Stick it in me! Stick it in me!" guys would not roll their eyes, pick up the pace, and throw me a dirty look. No, they would run (not walk) to the car, jump insdie, and proceed to screw my brains out.
So the next time you hear one of your female friends complaining, "I never get play, I need a boyfriend, I need to get laid! blah, blah blah!" Just tell them to rent a car, shout some shit out the window, and lower their standards a little bit. It will work every time. Trust me.
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I talk about, and sing about this subject a lot because I still can't believe that men actually say these things to women as they walk by.
These are just some of things I remember hearing men say to me on my walk home that Saturday night.
Titty Titty in the City
Sick girl. You're sick!
God bless you and your mamma.
God bless you.
Shit! Are those home grown or store bought?
You're pretty. Wanna ride?
Get in the car, I don't bite girl.
Wanna ride? Wanna ride ME? HA!
B double O-T-Y!
[bark] Throw me a bone, heh, throw me a bone. [bark]
Walking home from the subway on the Upper East Side after midnight is no big deal. Nobody bothers you save for lots of drunk, thirty something white men clad in GAP button downs shirts roaming the streets shouting out obscene things like, "I make eighty thousand dollars a year! Please fuck me!"
It's true. I lived on the Upper East Side for two years. I must have walked home, late at night after comedy shows, hundreds of times. Not once did I fear some guy was going to force himself upon me. In fact, when looking back on my years on the UES, the one positive neighborhood trait that stands out is the no hassle, late night walk home. With this in mind, I think real estate ads for the UES should read:
The Upper East Side: dress like a whore and strut around after hours. It's safe!
The Upper East Side: the place to live if you wanna get engaged to a white male who makes more than 50 thousand dollars a year, or want to be assaulted by a white male who makes more than 50 thousand dollars a year, or just have the desire to walk around un chaperoned late at night. It's safe!
I still can't believe men bark at women. I just don't understand it.
Do these men honestly think that this kind of behavior is going to get them laid? Do they think that women just walk down the streets thinking, "You know, I haven't had sex with a homeless looking stranger inside an old car in a really long time, so hopefully some dude will honk or bark at me so I can take care of that!"
Women, on the other hand, would totally get laid if they barked or honked at men. If I drove down the street in a shady looking car screaming, "Nice cock! Is it real? Stick it in me! Stick it in me!" guys would not roll their eyes, pick up the pace, and throw me a dirty look. No, they would run (not walk) to the car, jump insdie, and proceed to screw my brains out.
So the next time you hear one of your female friends complaining, "I never get play, I need a boyfriend, I need to get laid! blah, blah blah!" Just tell them to rent a car, shout some shit out the window, and lower their standards a little bit. It will work every time. Trust me.
Friday, July 15, 2005
Overheard
this conversation at 7A last night.
(If you live in NYC, you should stop what you're doing right now and go to 7A and get some nachos. When I eat their nachos I feel as happy as a little girl riding a brand new pony on her birthday who just finished a giant piece of Oreo ice cream cake and whose father just assembled her new four-story, pink Barbie dream house complete with porch swing and removable furniture.)
Girl: And I'm trying to read and the f@*ckin' baby is like crying and it was annoying and it was so damn loud. It should be illegal to allow babies inside public places.
Guy: Ha, yeah. But, I'm sure when you have kids--
Girl: Yeah, right. Not for me. No way. No kids.
Guy: What, like ever?
Girl: Um, yeah.
Guy: Oh.
(awkward pause)
Guy: Well, I want kids.
Girl: Well, good thing we're just f*@ckin' and not dating.
She was eating salad off a menu that had chicken fingers, calamari, and nachos. I really wanted to hate her, but the look on that guys' face . . . nothing but respect for her, and I LOVE babies.
***********************************
Saw Anchorman last night for the first time. (I'm a little behind on my popular movie watching.) I thought it was funny. I did. Ok, I didn't think the movie was the most amazing thing I've ever seen, but there were a LOT of great lines. Yet, I will continue to get annoyed by people who go around quoting that movie. But hey, the next time I'm at the bar and some guy says something to me about my 'babymaker' or 'whore island,' I will get the reference. I'll still think he's a douchebag, but I'll get the reference. Oh well, I guess there will always be people that see movies and feel the need, for the next year or so, to randomly shout out lines from them in every conversation they have and laugh as if they thought it up themselves. I wish them well.
***********************************
I'm going to be spending a week in Omaha, Nebraska in August. Does anyone from Omaha read this blog? I'm guessing no, but if so: Are there any bars in Omaha, any Bowling alleys, any places to sing Karaoke? I really wanted to go to Italy this summer. I bought a travel book and everything, but Nebraska's cool too. In fact, a lot of people say that Nebraska is like the Italy of the United States, and by a lot of people I mean nobody.
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(If you live in NYC, you should stop what you're doing right now and go to 7A and get some nachos. When I eat their nachos I feel as happy as a little girl riding a brand new pony on her birthday who just finished a giant piece of Oreo ice cream cake and whose father just assembled her new four-story, pink Barbie dream house complete with porch swing and removable furniture.)
Girl: And I'm trying to read and the f@*ckin' baby is like crying and it was annoying and it was so damn loud. It should be illegal to allow babies inside public places.
Guy: Ha, yeah. But, I'm sure when you have kids--
Girl: Yeah, right. Not for me. No way. No kids.
Guy: What, like ever?
Girl: Um, yeah.
Guy: Oh.
(awkward pause)
Guy: Well, I want kids.
Girl: Well, good thing we're just f*@ckin' and not dating.
She was eating salad off a menu that had chicken fingers, calamari, and nachos. I really wanted to hate her, but the look on that guys' face . . . nothing but respect for her, and I LOVE babies.
***********************************
Saw Anchorman last night for the first time. (I'm a little behind on my popular movie watching.) I thought it was funny. I did. Ok, I didn't think the movie was the most amazing thing I've ever seen, but there were a LOT of great lines. Yet, I will continue to get annoyed by people who go around quoting that movie. But hey, the next time I'm at the bar and some guy says something to me about my 'babymaker' or 'whore island,' I will get the reference. I'll still think he's a douchebag, but I'll get the reference. Oh well, I guess there will always be people that see movies and feel the need, for the next year or so, to randomly shout out lines from them in every conversation they have and laugh as if they thought it up themselves. I wish them well.
***********************************
I'm going to be spending a week in Omaha, Nebraska in August. Does anyone from Omaha read this blog? I'm guessing no, but if so: Are there any bars in Omaha, any Bowling alleys, any places to sing Karaoke? I really wanted to go to Italy this summer. I bought a travel book and everything, but Nebraska's cool too. In fact, a lot of people say that Nebraska is like the Italy of the United States, and by a lot of people I mean nobody.
Thursday, July 14, 2005
Sneaky Bastard
I’m walking down the street last night and this guy makes eye contact with me and smiles. Usually I smile back polity and continue on my way, but this was looking at me like I was an old friend. He waves at me and syas, “Hey, how are you? Oh my god, what’s up?” I immediately feel bad because I have no idea who he is or how he knows me.
Guy: What’s going on, how’ve you been?
Me: Hey, um, I’m good. How are you?
I rack my brain, trying to identity him. Comedy? No. University of Michigan? Maybe. Did I meet him through friends at a party? Maybe. Did I hook up him this winter when I was only sober on Sundays and on the prowl? Maybe.)
Guy: I’m good. Real good. Things are good. Where you headed?
Me: I’m meeting up with some friends.
Guy: What are you doing?
Me: We’re going bowling.
Guy: Oh, I love bowling. It’s fun.
Me: Yeah.
(during the next awkward pause, I give him a “well, gotta go, nice to see you” smile which, of course, he is unable to interpret.)
Guy: What are you up to this weekend?
Me: Ah, I don’t know, nothing too exciting.
Guy: We should hang out.
Yes, for sure! I would love to hang out this weekend with a complete stranger who seems to know me. What the f*@ck?! Who is this guy?
Me: Oh, yeah well um.
Guy: I live in Astoria.
Me: Oh. Okay . . .
Guy: I got HBO on Demand.
Me: uh huh.
Guy: So, you should come over, well hang out—
Mindy: I’m sorry, but ah—
Guy: You don’t know who I am?
Oh god! So awkward!
Mindy: No, I mean you look familiar I just can’t really—
Guy: Ha ha ha ha ha!
At this point I’m so confused and annoyed that I rudely blurt out,
Me: Do I know you?!
Guy: No. HA. ( he looks me up and down and then licks his lips as if he’s about to lunge forward and take a bite) But you should get to know me.
It was unbelievable, incredibly crafty, and brilliant. This guy got me to talk to him for almost 5 minutes. In random guy street time, that translates to like a half hour. I’ve been whistled at, yelled at, and even barked at, but this was my first experience with the “Hi, remember me? Confuse her into talking to you” fake out, and I completely failed.
“HBO on Demand?!” Is that what guys are using these days to get girls back to their apartments? None of the women I know and associate with would ever say,
“Well, he wasn’t really that cute, and he kind of creeped me out, and we had nothing to talk about, but he had HBO on Demand! So, of course, I went to his place and let him in the back door. HBO on Demand, I’m such a sucker for free movies!”
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Guy: What’s going on, how’ve you been?
Me: Hey, um, I’m good. How are you?
I rack my brain, trying to identity him. Comedy? No. University of Michigan? Maybe. Did I meet him through friends at a party? Maybe. Did I hook up him this winter when I was only sober on Sundays and on the prowl? Maybe.)
Guy: I’m good. Real good. Things are good. Where you headed?
Me: I’m meeting up with some friends.
Guy: What are you doing?
Me: We’re going bowling.
Guy: Oh, I love bowling. It’s fun.
Me: Yeah.
(during the next awkward pause, I give him a “well, gotta go, nice to see you” smile which, of course, he is unable to interpret.)
Guy: What are you up to this weekend?
Me: Ah, I don’t know, nothing too exciting.
Guy: We should hang out.
Yes, for sure! I would love to hang out this weekend with a complete stranger who seems to know me. What the f*@ck?! Who is this guy?
Me: Oh, yeah well um.
Guy: I live in Astoria.
Me: Oh. Okay . . .
Guy: I got HBO on Demand.
Me: uh huh.
Guy: So, you should come over, well hang out—
Mindy: I’m sorry, but ah—
Guy: You don’t know who I am?
Oh god! So awkward!
Mindy: No, I mean you look familiar I just can’t really—
Guy: Ha ha ha ha ha!
At this point I’m so confused and annoyed that I rudely blurt out,
Me: Do I know you?!
Guy: No. HA. ( he looks me up and down and then licks his lips as if he’s about to lunge forward and take a bite) But you should get to know me.
It was unbelievable, incredibly crafty, and brilliant. This guy got me to talk to him for almost 5 minutes. In random guy street time, that translates to like a half hour. I’ve been whistled at, yelled at, and even barked at, but this was my first experience with the “Hi, remember me? Confuse her into talking to you” fake out, and I completely failed.
“HBO on Demand?!” Is that what guys are using these days to get girls back to their apartments? None of the women I know and associate with would ever say,
“Well, he wasn’t really that cute, and he kind of creeped me out, and we had nothing to talk about, but he had HBO on Demand! So, of course, I went to his place and let him in the back door. HBO on Demand, I’m such a sucker for free movies!”
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
Yesterday at the grocery store
I ran into a guy I was casually dating a little while ago. Regardless of how things end, you should always want to look GOOD when you see a former kinda,-sorta-exclusive companion again, at least I do. I guess that’s why it was so super duper fun running into this guy. We made eye contact in the toilet paper aisle. I was on my way home from the gym with a box of tampons in one hand, and large jar of Tostitos® brand Salsa Con Queso in the other.
body odor +
+ 
= HOT!
I’m sure he was thinking, “Damn, should have never let that one go!”
In other news, I have discovered I am able to eat an entire jar of Salsa Con queso in one sitting. I think I’m going to write a letter to Tostitos suggesting smaller snack size jars.
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body odor +
+ = HOT!I’m sure he was thinking, “Damn, should have never let that one go!”
In other news, I have discovered I am able to eat an entire jar of Salsa Con queso in one sitting. I think I’m going to write a letter to Tostitos suggesting smaller snack size jars.
Monday, July 11, 2005
hiya!
I just want to let all you gals in NYC know that when the temperature rises above ninety degrees, you don’t have to wear make-up. Seriously, I’m not kidding. It’s like an unofficial, accepted summertime rule. It’s ok, don’t freak out. You’re beautiful just the way you are, and don’t you forget it. I just saw so many of you today looking so glamorously uncomfortable. I don’t know how you guys do it. I sweated off my clear lip gloss and sun block on my way to the subway. Anyway, I thought I would give you guys some tips on how to stay cool this summer.
No mascara:
I saw a lot of you out today with clumpy mascara. I know how much men dig seeing that goop between our lashes and how sexy it makes you feel, but when it’s this hot outside you might want to think about making your lashes feel as light as possible. Just a thought.
No foundation:
I also saw some of you wearing that heavy creamy tan-looking foundation. Come on now, that’s just wrong. I don’ care how crappy your skin looks, I don’t care if people called you Pizza Girl or Zitty Mc Titty in college, when it feels like it’s 100 degrees out you’re not allowed to wear anything on your face but sun block. It’s ok, guys will still want to have sex with you, plus you won’t get that shit all over the sheets.
No cream eye shadow:
I also saw some of you wearing cream based eye shadow. Oops, that’s a total summer no, no. Listen, if you’re going to insist on slathering hot pink, glittery stuff over your eyes to go to Dunkin Donuts in the middle of July, you should at least treat your glands to the powder stuff. That way, your eye-lid sweat won’t cause the cream to clump in the crease of your eyes making your look scary and generally unappealing.
Put your hair up:
It’s okay to wear your hair up durring the summer. I promise you won’t look like a man. Put it in a ponytail, a bun, braid it, pile it all on top of your head with a clip ...it’s okay. I know it looks amazing when it’s cascading down your back, with your curls all blown straight— or perhaps you jut had time to blow out that one piece in the front—but I promise you’ll feel 20% cooler if you get it off your neck.
No blush:
Hello?! It’s hot outside you guys. Your checks are going to flush naturally, for real. Plus, when you wear lots of blush you look like a freak regardless of the season. Some girls just don’t have high cheek bones. I don’t, but I deal with it. I don’t try to create bone structure with freaky pink blotches on my face, and you shouldn’t either; especially in the summer.
Okay, I think that’s all for now. Hope you guys spent the day checking out what’s new with handbags, or lounging by the pool painting your toenails and making appointments to get spray tanned next week.
XOXOXO
Keep cool,
~Mindy
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No mascara:
I saw a lot of you out today with clumpy mascara. I know how much men dig seeing that goop between our lashes and how sexy it makes you feel, but when it’s this hot outside you might want to think about making your lashes feel as light as possible. Just a thought.
No foundation:
I also saw some of you wearing that heavy creamy tan-looking foundation. Come on now, that’s just wrong. I don’ care how crappy your skin looks, I don’t care if people called you Pizza Girl or Zitty Mc Titty in college, when it feels like it’s 100 degrees out you’re not allowed to wear anything on your face but sun block. It’s ok, guys will still want to have sex with you, plus you won’t get that shit all over the sheets.
No cream eye shadow:
I also saw some of you wearing cream based eye shadow. Oops, that’s a total summer no, no. Listen, if you’re going to insist on slathering hot pink, glittery stuff over your eyes to go to Dunkin Donuts in the middle of July, you should at least treat your glands to the powder stuff. That way, your eye-lid sweat won’t cause the cream to clump in the crease of your eyes making your look scary and generally unappealing.
Put your hair up:
It’s okay to wear your hair up durring the summer. I promise you won’t look like a man. Put it in a ponytail, a bun, braid it, pile it all on top of your head with a clip ...it’s okay. I know it looks amazing when it’s cascading down your back, with your curls all blown straight— or perhaps you jut had time to blow out that one piece in the front—but I promise you’ll feel 20% cooler if you get it off your neck.
No blush:
Hello?! It’s hot outside you guys. Your checks are going to flush naturally, for real. Plus, when you wear lots of blush you look like a freak regardless of the season. Some girls just don’t have high cheek bones. I don’t, but I deal with it. I don’t try to create bone structure with freaky pink blotches on my face, and you shouldn’t either; especially in the summer.
Okay, I think that’s all for now. Hope you guys spent the day checking out what’s new with handbags, or lounging by the pool painting your toenails and making appointments to get spray tanned next week.
XOXOXO
Keep cool,
~Mindy
Thursday, July 07, 2005
Dear Guy who works at the sushi place across the street from my apartment,
I just wanted to write and say WATCH YOUR BACK BITCH!
I got sick from those spicy salmon rolls, and I think you’re an asshole. I thought they tasted a little too fishy but you said, “no, no that’s how they supposed to be, not bad, not bad, good.” I was a little skeptical, but you looked so official with your little sushi hat and your little sushi knife, that I decided to believe you. I told myself to trust my fellow man, to live life on the edge, to eliminate fear and doubt, and I ate up all those spicy salmon rolls.
Hours later, as I was kneeling in front of my toilet bowl wishing that god would end my life, I realized that one should not live life on the edge when digesting raw fish.
Do you feel guilty man? You should! $12.95 in your pocket, and I’m puking my guts out. Was it worth it? Was it?! Do you think this is funny? Do you get a kick out of watching people eat your funky, bacteria loaded, salmon rolls? Well, not anymore!
I know what’s up now, I’ve done my research. I know that you guys buy your fish on Tuesday and that by Monday night it’s old and wonky. I know! I know EVERYTHING!
Keep one eye open when you sleep at night.
Best,
Mindy
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
If you come to a show, say hello
Although it’s awesome getting an e-mail telling me that you came to a show because you read the column/saw my schedule on-line, it would be even awesome-r (take THAT you silly grammar freaks who insist on sending me edited versions of my blog after my post on blogger’s who can’t write) if you told me in person.
See, comics are a lot more narcissist than the average person. Laughter isn’t enough, we need compliments and coddling. Plus, when I hear that you’ve made your way over to a show because of my website, it lets me know that the 20 dollar HTML, PHP n Pictures book I bought was well worth it.
So, thanks so those who’ve come out and introduced themselves recently, it really was great meeting you guy.
In conclusion, if you come to a show, say hello. Unless you’re shady. I don’t want to talk to you if you’re shady. I realize that some of you might not know that you’re shady, so I suggest you ask a friend-preferably a female, “Hey, am I shady?” If she says something back like, “Leave me the F*CK alone already, do the words 'restraining order' not exist in your freaky little world!” I would just head home after the show and send me an e-mail.
***********************************************
Thanks for all the get well e-mails.
I am no longer sick with what I thought was the flu/strep throat/laryngitis.
Antibiotics and three dollar Cosmos are super fun.
************************************************
|
See, comics are a lot more narcissist than the average person. Laughter isn’t enough, we need compliments and coddling. Plus, when I hear that you’ve made your way over to a show because of my website, it lets me know that the 20 dollar HTML, PHP n Pictures book I bought was well worth it.
So, thanks so those who’ve come out and introduced themselves recently, it really was great meeting you guy.
In conclusion, if you come to a show, say hello. Unless you’re shady. I don’t want to talk to you if you’re shady. I realize that some of you might not know that you’re shady, so I suggest you ask a friend-preferably a female, “Hey, am I shady?” If she says something back like, “Leave me the F*CK alone already, do the words 'restraining order' not exist in your freaky little world!” I would just head home after the show and send me an e-mail.
***********************************************
Thanks for all the get well e-mails.
I am no longer sick with what I thought was the flu/strep throat/laryngitis.
Antibiotics and three dollar Cosmos are super fun.
************************************************
Friday, July 01, 2005
Dear Rachael Ray,
Hi. I just wanted to write and let you know that I think you’re a bubbly fraud. Don’t be upset. I don’t have anything against you personally, I just don’t like you.
I was flipping through channels late one night after making out with a guy at a bar I was hoping to secure for my own, when I stumbled upon your show on the Food Network. Now, I’ve never cooked anything before besides eggs. (I’ve tried Minute Rice three times, and each attempt resulted in a large, rubbery ball of carbohydrates) So, I was about to flip the channel when all of the sudden you said,
“This is so easy, anyone can do it. It’s a great way to impress your company, and it only takes 30 minutes!”
Maybe it was the sassy way you grabbed the pre-washed Portobello mushrooms from the fridge, or the way you giggled at one of your own jokes. I don’t know, but after watching your show, I decided I would attempt to make Portobello Burgers with Roasted Pepper Paste and Smoked Mozzarella, Pasta Salad with Broccolini and Ricotta Salata, and a Tomato & Onion Salad.
Thirty minutes my ass Rachael Ray! I did everything you did on your show. I even had a mini trash can on the counter to save elimination time. It took me FOUR HOURS! That’s NOT including shopping time. (Did you really expect me to know that a shallot was a type of onion?!)
You should be ashamed of yourself for LYING to the American people. We both know it takes you more than 30 minutes to prepare those meals. FOUR HOURS! You’re just lucky the guy stood me up and I didn’t have to feed him the Roasted Pepper Paste which tasted like old socks.
How do you sleep at night?
I hope to hear back from you.
Sincerely,
Mindy Raf
mindy@mindyraf.com
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I don't know if Rachael Ray will ever see this letter. I don't think she reads the Comical, where it was published, or is an avid reader of my website. Then again, you never know.
Rachel, are you reading this?!
Are you?!
"anyone can do it."
Like old socks!!!
LIAR!
