Tag Archives: it’s scary in my head

Every Pizza Product Development Meeting Ever

7 Dec

greasypizzaEd: Okay, let’s get started. From our focus groups we know a few things. One, people have totally not noticed we don’t use the Pizza Table–or as some folks call it, the Pizza Saver–in the center of our pies anymore. Apparently we have been doing a first-rate job of keeping the extra cheese off the lids these days. Two, we need more products that use “zilla” somehow in the name. Three, dang it all. These people are crazy about the bread, I tell ya.

Bill: Now, when you say zilla, I guess you mean something like Meatzilla, Porkzilla, or last year’s blockbuster PEPPERONI DOUBLE CHEESE STUFFED FRIED CRUST PIZZILLA?

Ed: Yes, exactly. We had a great synergy going with that campaign. So let’s just get crazy. Let’s push the envelope, do a little blue sky thinking, throw some ideas on the wall and see what sticks, okay?

Reese: You know, my wife and I went to this Oriental place and they had these little boxes that were compartmentalized like, you know, like a Whitman’s Sampler almost. Each one had a different item. Of course, I’m not like Liz. I fish with bait, I don’t eat it! (Pauses to enjoy hearty chuckles) But I’m wondering if we can’t use something like that?

Bill: Now, that’s not a bad idea. You know, at my house no one ever wants the same thing. And Angie, bless her, always wants something healthy like pasta. I say the horse is out of the barn on that one, if you know what I mean! (Pauses to enjoy hearty chuckles) Anyway, we could let our customers choose maybe four items to go in a box like at that Oriental place.

Ed: I like it! We could give them a choice of our Three-Cheese Vegetarian Kream Sauce Side Pasta or our Meatzapalooza Kream Sauce Monster Lite Side Stuffed Shells for those ladies who like the pasta. Then they can choose one from our Thick Thick Thick Monster SaltedButterGarlicPowder Crust Pizza Collection

Don: And let’s not forget our Phresh Phrom The Oven Breaded Bread Stixx Collection.They can choose Plain Ol’ Breaded Bread Stixx, Sweet Polynesian Glazed Breaded Bread Stixx, Honey Mustard BBQ Memphis Style Smoked Breaded Bread Stixx, or Flavor Blasted Ranch Giddyup Breaded Bread Stixx.

Bill: Good one! Then add our new Cinnamon Sugar Chocolate Honey Slathered Dipping Apple Dessert Stixx, and if they want to make it a Winning Family Dinner Nite Combination, add two two-liter bottles of our new private brand Suk-It-Down-Yer-Gullet Soda. And that way Mom can get her diet soda to watch that figure…get bigger and bigger!! (Pauses for hearty chuckles)

Ed: Maybe we should give them a choice of two Stixx? Oh, I know. We can add that as an upsale to the WFDN Combo. I’m telling you, our customers love the carbs. So we’ll keep punching out–and bringing in–the dough! (Hearty chuckles ensue without pause)

Reese: And I think this is a good time to do the promotion with that kids’ diabetes group that’s been nagging us. Our customers can add a dollar on to the price of our…wait, what are we calling this?

Bill: Family Exxxtravaganza Combo Box Pizzilla Flavorpocolypse!

Ed: And a great value at only $19.99! And that charity tie-in is publicity gold. Man, sick kids. Makes you wonder if their parents ever pay attention to what the little guys are sticking down their gullets. Next item of business is our new home video game station/internet order station.

 

 

Note: This is the post I had ready to go before I had to do battle with Batrodent and his grappling gun who’s up in my rafters eating insulation and fighting crime. Also, do not take this as total disdain of the chain pizza restaurant industry. Sometimes you just gotta have that salty greasy goodness.

 

What I Have Learned From The Internet

30 Jan
  1. Everything is always as it is. There are no exceptions to any rules.
  2. Nothing is as it is. There are only exceptions to rules.
  3. You’ve never had [insert illness here] as badly as I have.
  4. You think that [insert food item here] is good? That’s shit!
  5. The only REAL [insert food item here] comes from [obscure, tiny restaurant/market which only holds three people and is only open when Mercury is in retrograde].
  6. All my symptoms add up to an illness that will kill me dead in three hours.
  7. My argument is not sound because I forgot to take into account this very tiny probability of something happening like, oh, monkeys flying out of my butt.
  8. My argument is not sound because I cursed.
  9. My taste in music is lacking because I am not familiar with this band which was formed in South Dakota in 1993 and only played one show in front of 16 people.
  10. [Insert band here] is like Radiohead when no one listened to Radiohead except you.
  11. Using the terms “a lot of people”, “most people”, or “no one” means I have a sound argument.
  12. Ad hominem attacks are acceptable when everyone knows the attacked is an asshat.
  13. Duh.
  14. There must be one negative GET OFF MY LAWN! for every five bunny and kitten comments.
  15. You are not as cool as I am because I have been using [insert brand/platform/app/software/hardware/obscure eco-conscious feminine hygiene brand here] since it was in private beta.
  16. You are not as cool as I am because I have not been using [insert brand/platform/app/software/hardware/obscure eco-conscious feminine hygiene brand here] since it was in private beta because I don’t care about those things.
  17. I didn’t really read your piece so I will now make an argument against what you wrote that actually affirms the very thing you wrote.
  18. I could not care less about the NBA.
  19. A person who spends five hours in front of the television is a bum, but one who spends five hours at a computer watching the same, exact thing is tech-savvy.
  20. Poking fun at [insert politician/social movement/political view] means I am against it as one should never poke fun at a [insert politician/social movement/political view] one believes in.
  21. You know who’d have done this list better? Hitler.

Yes, This Is What I Do ALL Day

3 Nov

I have a very active imagination. I know. Hard to believe, right?  I have these characters I’ve developed in my head over the years. I’ve thought about turning them into monologues and staging them. I was an actor once upon a time. But then I got over it because, well, the problem with acting is actors. And Artistic Directors.  I’m enough of a micro-managing control freak that I wouldn’t want anyone else playing these characters. So they just sort of sit around in my head and in little notes I make here and there.

Occasionally on long trips when I am alone, I will bust out one of these characters. I had one for several years who was a CIA spy whose cover was running a bakery in Richton, Mississippi. If you’ve ever driven from Memphis to Destin, (Which all y’all Memphis people seem to do. What is the gravitational pull to Destin? There are more Memphians in Destin in July than there are Memphians in Memphis. Same thing with Pickwick Lake. Why do you want to vacation somewhere where you’ll keep running into your neighbors?) you’ve probably seen the turnoff to Richton-Perry County Airport. That’s what they graciously call the landing strip in the middle of a field. I refer to it as Richton International Airport mainly because it’s where my spy baker sneaks out under cover of darkness.

I found that Richton, being rural and small, was a great place to stash a spy because of guns. Let’s say she leaves out a rocket propelled grenade launcher. Just by accident. Like she’s cleaning it and OOPS! The neighbor lady stops by with a pound cake. Having an RPG in the middle of your grandma’s dining table would not be the strangest thing for a rural Mississippian to find in a neighbor’s house. She’d get more whispers from having a Mezuzah tacked to the door or a Buddist alter tucked away in a guest room.

I KNOW that a CIA spy would not keep an RPG stashed in her dining room, okay? THIS IS MY STORY.

If by chance  you have ever read a blog I used to have, you may know that I have imaginary twins. They are Formicadinette and Sizzlene. Formicadinette is five and Sizzlene is almost six. They compete in what’s known as the Hi Glitz Lil’ Lovely Miss Impetigo Pageant circuit. They are a MESS, those two. Formicadinette has had trouble with her shuffle ball change since her first tapjazzfusiontribalballet lesson at 16 months old. Sizzlene keeps moving from her head voice to her chest voice. IN THE SAME SONG. I was not going to be one of those horrible Pageant Moms, BUT in their first pageant, they won talent with a dance to the classic “Mr. Roboto” and took home the prize of a Catnapper® Ranger Comfort Choice Camo Living Room Sofa from the fine folks at Bass Pro. Like such:

Lemme just tell you, once I found out I could furnish my home from those two rotten children, I was in. Honey, I was ALL IN.

Anyway, that’s kind of an introduction to what it’s like in mah head. I’m thinking that in an effort to grow as a writer (as opposed to grow as a beanstalk) that I might introduce you to some of these characters from time to time.

Sort of give them room to roam.

Manic Pixie (Cut)

2 Nov

You know how you’re just going along with your day and POW! Something happens and it just totally FUCKS WITH YOUR MIND to the point where all you can do is sit, cry, and wish you had a McRib? Something like that happened today. I needn’t go into details, but let’s just say that A. It was my own fault and B. I will figure out a way to blame it on my husband.

Just kidding. I can’t pin this one on him. I mean, well, I could. But to set him up, I’d have to go back to a time before we even met, and I just don’t have that kind of energy anymore. So this thing happened because I acquired Temporary Moron Syndrome. But then this OTHER thing happened and it kind of made the stupid thing I did when struck dumbass with TMS okay. I mean, it pretty well solved it.

My point is that Jesus did not solve my problem, but my haircut did.

I do not care how idiotic, anti-feminist, and/or vapid it sounds to say that had I not gotten my hair did today, I would right now be putting a straw straight into a bottle of Lambrusco and watching every episode of West Wing. In my pajama bottoms and a t-shirt that is older than any person who can tell me the set list for a Taylor Swift concert. My hair looks SMOKIN’.  So I have now convinced myself that, by extension, I do as well. I have this new cut that’s not much different than what I had before except it’s like rocker girl meets soccer mom.

I KNOW! Shut up.

Right now I’ve got it sort of messed from standing in front of the mirror and running my hands through it like in a hairspray ad. Strong hold with a soft touch! So I’m kind of Chrissie Hynde. Then I can brush it, tuck it behind my ears and be all you’re not leaving this table until you eat every last one of those peas.

It’s awesome. It’s like wearing really slutty underwear under a business suit. I guess. I never really did that because I’ve found the thing about slutty underwear is that it creeps and there’s like a 100% chance you will not get that big promotion you’re hoping to get after giving this kick ass presentation if you spend the whole presentation doing these sort of calisthenics that make you look like the Minister of Silly Walks to try to get your silky drawers out of your nooks and crannies like you’re an English muffin and your unmentionables are orange marmalade.

Woman, do NOT act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. Has there ever been a time when you’ve put on pantyhose that you did not do some John Cleese-like move to get those bastards all the way up to your waist? And tap pants may seem like a great idea, but they are never good for anything except making you regret you spent $52 on a pair of silk bloomers that are ALWAYS too short in the stride.

It’s a good cut for me because I cannot think of myself as a grown up. When you’re paying me for something, I’m on it. I’m your adult. Otherwise? I’d rather be the wacky neighbor. With awesome highlights. So this cut lets me go either way.

So…how did my hair solve my problem? I was gazing at myself, trying to calmly think through whether or not I needed to get full-on panicky or not. I was trying to be mindful. Is there something I can do now that will help? Do I need to let it rest for a while? Should I, perhaps, punch something? And the answer was, unfortunately, no. There was nothing that I could do immediately to help my TMS, but my lustrous locks were helping to calm me down. And then this other thing happened to solve my TMS and at that point I was so calmed by the shiny object in the mirror, I was all yay!

So I guess also I’m part cat.

I Never Thought I’d Hear Myself Say That

27 Sep

You know how when you’re a grown up and you say something and then you freeze because, holy crap, that’s something a grown up would say? You know what I mean? You reach adulthood the first time you say, “Her mother let her leave the house like that?” Double bonus points are awarded if you’re using spit to wipe schmutz off someone when you say it. Triple if you’re also wearing a pair of smart slacks.

Week before last, I used the words adorable and darling to describe fake, wallpapered pumpkins. I’ve admonished the undergarment choices (or lack thereof) of perfect strangers. When my husband complained of late-night-ice-cream-induced heartburn, I muttered something about rich food. Who does that? Other than women who play bridge every Tuesday, I mean.

My friend and I have this routine about the importance of clothes Fitting In The Shoulders. For the Geritol Set, all other fit issues can be fixed with the right seamstress, but not if the item doesn’t have good fit through the shoulders. We are also partial to clothes you “just throw on”. Oh, this? I just threw it on. Just pulled it right out of the dryer and threw it on. Being the kind of person I am–one with an aversion to both pants and irons–I like the kind of outfit a gal on the go can just throw on. Even if it makes me need to eat dinner at 4:30.

Anyway, this morning I was bemoaning the fact that Nancy Grace’s breasts were clogging up my Twitter feed.

I’m not a fan of Nancy Grace or her boobs. I will tell you if she ever says, “I’ve got more talent in my left boob than SoAndSo,” you need to listen up, brother. ‘Cause there could be a lot lurking inside them mammaries.  Point is, before the proliferation of social media, I never thought Nancy Grace’s boobs would inhabit my world. But she’s on that dance show and supposedly she got all jiggy with it last night and BOOM! She fell out her dress.

Which reminds me of a story…

My Adorable Husband was once called to assist with a customer issue back when he worked retail. It was in the jewelry department. There was a couple there who were, um, on the larger side. So the couple’s going off on him and the whole time, her boob is flopped out of her shirt and onto the counter. AH is trying to resolve the issue, stay cool, and NOT STARE AT THE GIANT BOOB ON THE COUNTER because the mister half of the couple was a big fella. And a little pissy. I believe he ended up giving them a lifetime supply of smokey topaz cocktail rings just to get them out of the store.

Point is, here are some things I’ve said recently that I never thought I’d hear myself say:

  • I’m still waiting. On the plus side, I’m making that bubble pop game my bitch.
  • I would like to eat my weight in Cheetos, M&Ms, and zinfandel.
  • Why, yes, yes, I did just spend 30 min. making a picture of Pimp Spiro Agnew.
  • Meant to type vaccinated, typed cacciatore instead. Shut up. I really did. And I don’t even like cacciatore.
  • It’s a tiny cake wearing panties. How could you not be all over that?
  • Proof my honey is stressed out: I asked him to do me a solid and he DID NOT wiggle his eyebrows at me.
  • How do you get cinnamon roll icing out from between the keys of your computer keyboard? I’m asking for a friend.
And along those lines…
Here’s a reprint of a list of tweets I’m happy were not my last words:
  1. I actually laughed so hard I leaked.
  2. Just realized when I get cranked up, my use of “dude” and “freaking” increases dramatically. This does not apply to my use of “asshat”.
  3. The decision to eat THEN ride might have been a bad one. #biscuitbelly
  4. Pot roast, bitchez
  5. The house just shook and power flickered. Anyone in [neighborhood redacted] have this?
  6. No more foods with “Buffalo” in the name for breakfast.
  7. Who forgets they have cookies? Me. I do. I HAVE COOKIES!
  8. I got 99 problems, and Tiger Woods’ penis ain’t one.
  9. See what happens when I don’t Twitter for a while? I miss awesome ideas like filling Swiffer w/ salsa!!
  10. Coffee and Cheez-Its: Breakfast of champions or pathetic cry for help? Discuss.
  11. Where are the pictures of flaming snowball farts? Nowhere.
  12. I will, by the power of Greyskull, write something tomorrow even if it’s a treatise on unicorn farts. You have been warned.
  13. And then did I “enjoy” using moist wipes to “feel extra clean”?
  14. Tonight, I will get knocked up with a food baby whose baby daddy is nachos.
  15. I did not understand the screaming chickens. Don’t they know they don’t have to be cut open to retrieve the eggs?
And some that would have been helpful if they were:
  1. @****** HOLY SHIT! What great birth control that was! Thanks!
  2. OK, y’all. I’m making a drinking game out of these Olympics somehow. If you don’t hear from me tomorrow, you’ll know I figured out how.
  3. In between Jon Stewart and Ricky Gervais. That’s how I want to die. Right there.

Snuggle-Bunny Unicorn Hamster

20 Jun

I just learned about cleaning paint brushes in fabric softener. Works great, by the way, but what’s up with that smell? Liquid fabric softener stinks. How can people stand that smell on their clothes all day? It’s like a snuggle-bunny unicorn hamster took a giant, steaming blossom-scented-April mountain-fresh-morning-dew-jasmine-renewal dump in the house. It’s like the Snuggle bear is making sweet, thorough, tender love to a 35 year-old woman who still dots her i‘s with hearts and loves the word moist. They’re in a field of glitter where unicorns eat rainbows and leave cotton candy droppings. It’s like my house just mated with a fluffy cloud of baby powder and nougat. You get the picture. Admittedly, it’s better than the smell when we had to put mothballs in the attic to keep the critters out. But only because I think the Snuggle-Bunny Unicorn Hamster could be this year’s big Christmas toy. Stay tuned to see if I decide to take that chump Tickle-Me-Elmo to the mat.

None of that is actually what I wanted to talk about. I just wanted you to understand that I’m hallucinating soft, fluffy bunnies and kittens and that I have an uncontrollable desire to run through a field of daisies and lavender and bubble gum. I WANT TO EAT MARSHMALLOW FLUFF WHILE DANCING WITH STRAWBERRY SHORTCAKE AND KNITTING TOILET PAPER COZIES FROM THE TAIL OF MY LITTLE PONY, TWILIGHT SPARKLE!!

Which brings up another point. You know what would be fun? You should come up with a game: Stripper or My Little Pony? Do that for me while I get some fresh air because I cannot for the life of me remember what I set out to talk about today.

I Hate People

27 Mar

My husband and I have unintentionally created this routine. It goes something like this:

Me: I hate people

Him: I know.

Me: No, I really, really hate people.

Him: I know you do, sweetie. I know you do.

We go through this several times a week and twice on Sundays.  Generally there was a conversation that preceded my statement of ill-will towards my fellow man. That conversation usually goes something like this:

Me: Yeah, and another thing—what’s up with those stupid corporate care programs?

Him: I dunno. Corporations don’t care.

Me: That’s my point. I mean, corporations aren’t inherently evil. They’re not inherently good either, but one can only exist in opposition to the other, right?

Him: Yes?

Me: Right. So Corporation X wants me to buy its toilet paper because it supports troops, breast cancer research, and reforestation of the Amazonian rainforest. Now, I have to ask you: What’s that got to do with my butt, huh?

Him: Nothing. It’s all perception.

Me: Right! The measure of a corporation isn’t what it gives to charity. It’s three things: Is the product any good? Does it treat employees fairly? Does it treat customers with respect?

Him: That you give to the Coalition To Protect The Mississippi Slow-Crawling Bubba has nothing to do with toilet paper.

Me: Right! My great-grandfather…

Him: Oh boy…

Me: Was fired…FIRED…

Him: Yes, from the sawmill because he said if you’re going to house your workers—and you are—you have to give them a decent place to live.

Me: You have to give them a decent place to live because if a man’s got to worry about the roof over his family’s head…

Him: He’s not going to be focused on the job he gets paid for.

Me: That’s right. Could the sawmill have elected not to house workers?

Him: Yes.

Me: Right. But they did.  So if you’re all in…

Him: You gotta be all in…

Me: Exactly. EXACTLY.  Oh, and another thing! The bears? The bears with the toilet paper stuck to their asses?

Him: Yes?

Me: What is that? You’re a bear, in the woods, crapping quarters and getting toilet paper stuck to your hiney? Does that make me want to buy your toilet paper?

Him: I have no idea what you’re talking about.

Me: You agree with me. If you knew what I was talking about, you’d agree with me.

Him: I’m sure.

Me: So I have this whole conversation with Marie about how she’s only buying this one brand of sun-dried tomatoes because they give 10% back to charity…

Him: Ten percent of what? You know what that means, right? They throw their dented cans out to a food pantry, use it as a tax write-off, call it a donation and actually make money on the deal.

Me: I KNOW! So ask me if she likes sun-dried tomatoes.

Him: Does she like…

Me: NO! She HATES sun-dried tomatoes. But she thinks she can get all Kiva on some woman in Bangladesh by…

Him: Buying tomatoes instead of giving 20 bucks to Kiva?

Me: YES! I hate people.