Coffee talk.

HA!

Today I gave a guy 50 cents for "the bus". As I handed it to him he said, "You have very pretty eyes by the way." I said thanks and turned to walk away. He yelled after me, "And that's a MANLY comment! Men love women, more than you realize!"

The Envelope Please

The lovely Miss Amalah wrote a very funny post today about her Company Picnic that she attended this week. I commented on said post that I would like to throw my own damn company picnic, even though I'm the only employee of my little business.

This stemmed from a conversation I had recently with a friend - he had seen a few awards on my wall that I have received over the last few years, and we got to talking about how it would be funny if I presented myself with awards on a regular basis.

THAT stemmed from a previous conversation in which I admitted to sometimes missing the antics of the office life. I stress the word sometimes.

Some of the awards we came up with:

Employee of the Month: This would be one of those huge plaques with a brass emblem for every month of year. All which would have my name for each month, and a rotating Polaroid picture of myself at the top. I debated that sometimes I'd be willing to give the award to my Dog, if he were to consider not facing me with his ass towards the window when he takes a dump. Seriously, that's worth a brass emblem.

Took A Shower Before NOON: I am guaranteed to win this award at least once a week, as sometimes I stupidly schedule early morning meetings.

Used the "F" Word Less than 10 Times Today: Really. That would be delightful.

Didn't Open Bottle of Wine Until SIX P.M.: Seriously. At 5:00 I'm all, "one...more...hour..."

Didn't Use Instant Messenger: This is one that I've been really up for earning, although I am LONELY at work.

There were more, but I can't remember now, because it's TEN o'clock P.M....a good four hours after I opened that bottle of wine.

The Girlfriends' Guide to Fabulousness and Fantasticity

Head over to Martha's and watch me and Amy give the world fabulous tips on how to be famous the proper way - by digging up celebs that have gone all WRONG, and letting the snarkies fly. 'tis funny!

The one with my Dad.

In honor of Father's Day, I'd like to share some of my favorite memories of my Dad, who passed away over 11 years ago.

He made a MEAN breakfast. We're talking eggs, bacon, hashbrowns, biscuits, anything that would induce a stroke. We used to BEG him to make breakfast on the weekends. SO GOOD.

When I was little and went through a period where I didn't like to drink milk, he'd add food coloring to it - blue, green, whatever - and suddenly it was DELICIOUS!

If my sister and I ever overslept, he'd come into our room and put on country music super loud. "Okay, okay, we're UP! Turn it OFF!"

I had a little medical problem when I was very young, which required many doctors' visits. My Dad took me to every single one of them, and then afterwards he'd take me to lunch, or shopping.

When I was very little we used to nap together in his recliner. He'd wake up to pools of drool all over his shirt and just laugh and laugh.

My Dad gave funny little words of advice in which I never understood. His favorite was, "tell them to go pound salt". I never did, because I didn't know what it meant, but it was comforting anyway.

When I was older and going out, my Dad would always say, "Remember who you are." Again, I didn't get it, of COURSE I'd remember who I was. But of course I understood it as I grew older.

My Dad was a huge boxing fan. He LOVED it. I hated it. But he would tease me about it, pretending that I did love it. I'd come downstairs and he'd say, "Oh good, Jan, you're just in time! The fight JUST STARTED." When I moved out of the house he would call and leave messages on my machine, "Jan, how can you be out when there's a FIGHT ON!".

He also used to think that the cheerleaders in televised sporting events were WAVING TO HIM, and he'd wave back.

If he farted, he'd ALWAYS blame it on someone else. My favorite memory of this was one night we were sitting in the livingroom and he was in his recliner, I was on the couch, and this SIX MONTH OLD baby was propped in her car seat on the floor next to my Dad. Dad let out a HUGE ONE, and then all startled, looks down at the baby and goes, "PLEASE!".

He also judged sibling farting contests. My older brothers always won. Except for that ONE FATEFUL NIGHT. We were staying at my Grandpa's, and all us kids were out in the livingroom in sleeping bags just killing the darkened room with our farts. I let out the last huge one that I had been saving for towards the end of the competition and both my brothers and my sister squealed, "OH MY GOD JAN", just as my Dad snapped on the light and barked at us to knock it off and go to sleep. And just as he snapped the light back off and turned to go back upstairs he said, "...and Jan clearly wins."

When I was 20, I was dating someone EIGHTEEN years older than me. My Dad NEVER said anything negative to me about it (although a year or so afterward he said he "prayed that guy the hell out of your life") When we broke up, I was quite upset and my Dad would joke around anytime we were out and about - every time he'd see a senior citizen he'd say, "Hey Jan, there's one for you. I'll bet he's collecting a PRETTY social security!"

My Dad helped me write my first resume, and to be funny, under "attributes" he put, "have pretty hair".

(Okay, crying now...must take a break...)

Okay.

When he found out he had cancer, us girls were in the kitchen crying, and he was in the livingroom with my brother and he called out to us, "I'm not dead yet, can I get a sandwich?"

The day I introduced him to my husband, I told him NOT to say anything embarrassing. When I brought him to my Dad and he went to shake his hand he said, "Wow, Jan's right, you ARE handsome!"

I could write all day about what a funny, warm, and wonderful man my father was. As the years pass, I sometimes worry that I'm going to forget him, and I panic and scramble to think of as many things I can about him.

But when it's late at night, and I'm lost in my thoughts about him, I realize that the impact he made on my life in twenty-three very short years, will never ever go away.

But does Jesus do ATKINS?

Remember when I laughed at Jesus' six pack? You should, I mean it was only like two posts ago.

Anyway, I was feeling rather guilty about it until other people started SUPPORTING my laughter.

People like, I don't know...Dawnie and Coleen, who made funny comments here.

And then Martha of The Random Muse writes to me and says, "As to what they were thinking by putting up a picture of The Lord Our Savior Jesus Christ in the middle of a gym? Maybe it was like an inspiration thing. You're all tired and sweaty and ready to call it quits and head to the shower, but then you see the picture and stop to ask yourself WWJD? What would he do? ANOTHER THREE SETS OF AB CRUNCHES!" Haaaaaa.

And then Martha went on to show me SOME VERY CREEPY "Athletic Jesus" figurines, that had me in tears of HORROR and LAUGHTER. Who KNEW Jesus was so SPORTY?

Martha and I offer you these figurines for your viewing pleasure. Complete with commentary, because you know we couldn't resist.


Martha: Jesus says, "You're eating too much, you little fatties! You'll NEVER make it into a professional ballet corps with that much meat on your bones!"


Me: Jesus teaches the children to look heavenward by holding a basketball just a smidgen out of their reach.


Martha: While the catcher folds his hands in solemn prayer, Jesus wonders whether or not he will get to third base with little Timmy.


Me: Is this two against one? Because with Jesus on the team? Player 21 doesn't have a popsicle's chance in hell.


Martha: Having Jesus as your gymnastics coach is even better than having Bela Karolyi. Mary Lou Retton has got NOTHING on these girls!


Me: Jesus says, "That's right, ease into it, Suzie." And look how damn happy the other kid is to be holding the golf clubs WHILE HIS SISTER IS BEING VIOLATED.


Martha: Jesus says, "Show me 'paint the fence!' Now go wax my car! No mercy!"


Me: Jesus trades in his flip flops for iceskates! And you know player "6" is going down hard, for "6" is an evil number.


Martha: With Jesus on your side, you will not only win the Wimbeldon Cup, but will also learn how to wear it upon your head, much like a crown of thorns!


Me: Jesus is possessed by the Holy Spirit and pushes Suzie off the side of the hill before doing some cool BMX tricks.


Martha: I bet Jesus is ruing the day that he decided to wear his sandals skiing, now isn't he?


Me: Jesus teaches serious cross training by proving he can run track in a robe and flip flops. CAN YOU?


Martha: Jesus imagines Judas Iscariot's face on that soccer ball and gives it a good, swift kick!

Girls' Bike Club

This is one of the funniest conversations I have ever read in my life.

"Again she got married? Okay, I'm out."

Poor, poor Ben.

I had a VERY long dream last night in which Ben Affleck was my boyfriend. Or wanted to be my boyfriend is more like it.

This is very disturbing, because for one thing, I don't really like Ben Affleck. Other than his recent stint on SNL. In which the Gigli sketch had me in tears. But other than that, I feel he is completely overrated.

The dream was intense though. Not sexual, just that he was TERRIBLY in love with me and was woo-ing me and trying to convince MY FRIENDS that I should be with him. He was a charming one in this dream.

I hadn't even thought of it from the moment I woke up, as I've been in non-stop motion since 7:00 a.m., but then I just read this news blurb and it all came back to me. Now the poor guy is SICK over me.

I'm icked, and charmed, all at the same time. I need to get a daisy and start pulling off petals ("Do I love him? Do I love him not?").

Probably not, since right when I start to think he's okay, I get that stupid image of him marching animal crackers over Liv Tyler's tummy in Armeggedon (spelled wrong, so sorry), and I lose it. That scene just irritated the snot out of me.

Wounded from just being me.

I am a mess today. I woke up this morning feeling like I had gotten run over by a very large truck. Or a bus. Or something very big.

Yesterday evening I skinned my knee. Hello, THIRD GRADE.

I was rushing around trying to find my mail key, and could not find it ANYWHERE. Which is pretty amusing, because my mail key is the lone key on a keyring with a huge plastic pig that you squeeze and fake shit comes out of it's ass. It's a hit with the neighbor kids, and also very classy. And also really hard to lose.

I was getting very frustrated, and decided to look in my car to see if I had left it there. As I stepped out onto my driveway, a neighbor from down the road was driving by, and decided that moment would be the first time in something like eight years to wave hello to me. I waved, turned to walk behind my car, one flip-flop went one way and my foot that was in it went the other, and I was down. On the ground. On my knee, and clutching for my car to brace my fall. Which it did not do.

Of course I had to act like it was no big deal, in case others were watching, which I have no idea because there was no way in hell I was going to verify this. I had to be cool, and just rummage through my car when in fact my knee was throbbing, as well as my right arm from grabbing for the car.

No key, I came back inside, sat on my livingroom floor, and cried. Because it was just too much on a already frantic day. I pulled up my pantleg to find a very angry, red, scraped knee.

So this morning I woke up to sore knee, sore leg that has stiffened up from the injury, sore right arm and shoulder (I must have REALLY flailed while going down), I already had some sort of mystery bruise on my right arm near my elbow, and also somewhere during the night I woke up having been sleeping for God knows how long with my left arm all twisted and smarting pretty badly for which today it is super sore.

I curse my mail key! Which, by the way, was in with my silverware. WHY? I curse my flip flops! Which are adorable brown leather flip flops, yet UNRELIABLE. I curse my neighbor for breaking the norm and waving to me! How dare she. I curse my bed! And my mystery bruise, too! Good God.

Won't I look saucy in summer dresses for the next few weeks.

In other non-cursing news: New Bold & Bloglicious episode: What What?

Don't know what B&B is? Read this, and check out the lovely Amalah's side bar for all the juicy episodes. There is some funny shit in there.