Wednesday, September 28, 2011

...Kathy Lee La La

It's time to play Name That Tune!
I'll type a song, you guess the title!!! (answers below)

TV Theme song:
DUN DUN dundundun! (doochookuchookuchookuchooku)
DUN DUN dundundun (doochookuchookuchookuchooku)
dun dun dun dun dun dun daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
da duh da da daaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
daa da da duh da daaaaaaaaaaaa
doo da doo da da duhhhhhhh

Gershwin/product theme:
Bum boom
dah dah dah dah duh duh duh dah da da da da da da da duhdadahduhdahduhdahduhduhdahduhduh

Oooh. You're getting good at this. OK one more!

Bossa Nova/Elevator Music:
La     duhdah duhda duh duhduh duh
Da    duhdah duh da duh duhduh duh

Tom Selick, Patron Saint of Quiz Show Answers

TV Theme Song: Theme from Magnum P.I.
Classical/product theme: Rhapsody in Blue
Bossa Nova/Elevator Music: Girl from Ipanema

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

...A Writer for Outside the Box Magazine

7 Great Everyday Uses for Otherwise Ineffectual Lite Tampons

1. Nail Polish Remover Applicator!

2. Practice Epi Pen!

3. Letter "M" Stamper!

4. Cotton Mouse for your Cotton Snake!

5. Joke Pencil (great for Nerds)!

6. Hygenic Light Switcher!

7. Owl Pillow Telescope!

Monday, September 26, 2011

...A Benevelant Stooptator

The entrance to my place is a door with a single step, sandwiched between storefronts. This little alcove calls to many as a smoker's safe haven, a homeless man's home away from home, a cell phone user's telephone booth... and I love it. Every stoop sitter is an opportunity for me to display my superhuman ability for kindness. Nothing is more satisfying.

I'll come home from a hard day's work or easy day's Chinese food pick up and see the stoop serf upon my door. I'll take out my key ring and smile with secret satisfaction at the inevitable interaction:

Me: This is me.
Stoop Dweller: (hurriedly standing) Oh sorry.
Me: No worries. You can have it right back. I just need to get through.

The shock on their faces when they realize who I am... the utter embarrassment that I should catch them sitting on my foot bridge... the humility they exhibit whilst collecting their belongings with eyes downcast... the surprised relief when I grant them stay as long as their horses need resting...

I am a person above geographical boundaries and status. I am understanding, patient, and full of ease. On a hot day once, I gave the homeless man a glass of water and a bag of peanuts. All I need to do to change the world is walk out (or in) my doorstep. I am benevolence incarnate.

And for this the dicks leave empty cigarette packs and fifths of cheap rum.

Monday, September 19, 2011

...A Surrealist

The following are excerpts from a docudrama* I'm working on called "This Past Weekend"**.  Hope you enjoy.

Budget Employee: What brings you into town?
Me: A funeral.
Budget Employee: Oh, I'm sorry. Would you like to upgrade to the black Impala? The color is appropriate for the occassion and the extra interior space is good if you're transporting anyone.
Me: No thanks.
911 Operator: 911
Me: Hi. I was just hit by a garbage truck on 275.
911 Operator: OK. Are you alright?
Me: Yes.
911 Operator: Where are you now.
Me: I'm following the garbage truck. He won't stop.
911 Operator: What kind of car are you driving?
Me: I have no idea. I'm in a rental car. I picked it up 15 minutes ago.

My Grandma's Cardiologist: We are going to adjust her beta blockers...Wait. Is she in isolation?
Me: Yes.
Dad: For MRSA, yes.
My Grandma's Cardiologist (to the other doctors): Hurry, go put gloves on. (Doctors all leave room, return with gloves.)
Dad: So, you think it was the beta blockers that were the problem in the first place?
My Grandma's Cardiologist: Yes. She has 2 small valves. How old are you?
Grandma: 93.
My Grandma's Cardiologist: (Shaking his head.) Yes, see, at that age, there is nothing we can do. (To the other doctors, as they all leave the room.) Don't touch anything. Make sure you wash your hands. You take that home... that's a nightmare.

Mom: Oh my god I have dog poo on my foot. It is my father's funeral and there is dog poo on the top of my foot.

Voicemail from Dad: Hi, Mol, it's Dad. I'm calling to make sure you got home. I just put your phone in the mail, so that should get to you soon.

*fake docudrama created as conceit in which to list the weekend's events in dialogue form
** this all really, truly went down this past weekend

Thursday, September 1, 2011


Dear Customer Service,

I miss you. It seems like not so long ago that we spent time together. You would help me shop, bank, take care of my car, even serve me coffee. Where are you? Where are you, CS? I miss you.

Sometimes, I'll walk into a Duane Reade, not thinking about you at all, them WHAM! like that it hits me...your complete absence. I ache at your loss... at my loss of you.

Today, I was in a Budget Rental Car. I almost expected to see you there, but no. You were no where to be seen. The rep almost gave me a Grand Marquis. She didn't ask if I wanted an EZ Pass, she tried to overcharge me, and when I politely refused insurance she replied "On this holiday weekend? I hope you get there."

Sometimes, I call your number but it must have changed. Someone in India answers. They're very nice, but it's just not the same. That person and I don't speak the same language. Remember that, CS? We used to speak the same language! You seemed to understand me perfectly but now...

I tried talking to someone online, but you can't have a relationship with a computer.

Maybe I need to move down south. Last I heard you were still there.

I miss you, CS. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you.

Very sincerely,