play-by-play

God, it is so great to be here in New York. On Chris’ blog. In New York. The new York internets are so much more sophisticated than the ones we have in Portland, Oregon. And also…ruder. But I digress.

Hello! I’m Kiala from Face of the Cookie. Exciting right? I’m all famous and shit.

Okay yes, that is not true but I like to say it outloud to other people besides myself whenever possible and especially on the webospheres because it sounds super legit.

And look – I’m even doing those one line sentence zinger thingies Chris does! It’s like he’s still here with us. Please don’t tell him I went through his medicine cabinet.

Anyhadoodle. I have a topic and I would very much like to topicalize on it with you fine Surviving Myself Peoples.

The topic for today is: Kiala Explains Sports

Sports are a game wherein many people (men, mostly…let’s be honest) rub their parts on each other until someone in charge wearing stripes yells at them and then everyone drinks beer. A lot of other things happen in between like online shopping, Jezebel reading, and makeup application but…whoa….wait. Okay sorry, I somehow cut and pasted my Google Calendar in there.

Moving on!

Dudes in matching colors go to war with each other over “turfs” and “bidznass” and “enz” and then Ice T says he is a nightmare walking, psychopath talking,
King of his jungle just a gangster stalking and they multiply. Colors.

Okay, I guess I don’t really get sports. Sorry.

freak out

Listen up everyone – I’ve got great news:  West Nile is back!

That’s right!  You remember back in 1999 when it first struck unnecessary fear into the hearts of millions of Americans right?  Well if you don’t, now is your time to shine!

I was just reading the Times and they are reporting that a 75 year-old man from Long Island died from the disease yesterday.

So have at it.

Whoever is next to you right now, turn to them and start talking about the good ol’ Nile.  Try and make it sound like they could get it at any moment: “You know, I have noticed some mosquitos near the coffee machine.  You go there a couple times a day right?”

Do it!

If there’s no one around for you to talk to, first – why don’t you have any friends, you loser? and second send emails out to some people and alert them that The Nile is coming for them!  Right now!  And their dog!

With West Nile striking fear back into our hearts, we can now brush aside things that we should be worried about and focus all of our energy on a virus that we’ll most likely never contract.

Having a hard time paying the bills?  Forget ’em!  You might get West Nile and then what would bills matter?

Girlfriend dumped you because you spend more time drinking Mad Dog and watching Fraggle Rock DVD’s than hanging out with her?  Hellooooo????  West Nile is really to blame here, not anything you did.

And I haven’t even started to talk about how lucky you are if you get sick any time soon.

Got the sniffles?  West Nile it is!

Nagging cough?  You’re going to die for sure!

Still think Margaret Cho is funny?  That’s just The Nile talking silly!

Just when I thought my life could not be more boring and lackluster, West Nile Virus has knocked on my door and greeted me with a big smile.

The only way today could get any better is if I get bit by a mosquito during lunch.  I’d run through the streets, screaming at the top of my lungs “I gots the West Nile!!!  I gots the West Nile!!!”  Then I’d try to sneeze on someone close to me, just to make his day, too.

 

(I’m won’t be around tomorrow, but I have a guest blogger lined up that will knock your socks off.  Or maybe just make you laugh so much your feet get hot and you take them off yourself.  Either way, please come by tomorrow and enjoy one of my favorite bloggers ever.)

float like a butterfly

In the spirit of Learning Something New every 15 years or so, I’m now learning how to box.

Every day at the gym, I run, I lift and then I box.  Not with other people – I’m not some kind of idiot. I just hit the bag.

It is a lot of fun and a great workout and blah, blah, blah.

I could go on and on about how it improves your coordination, endurance and strength, but let’s be honest – I’m in it for the nickname.

Everyone knows the best part about boxing is the handle you get when you start learning the sport. Granted, I’m not actually fighting anyone other than a large, heavy, leather-bound bag, so I don’t really need a nickname, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want one.

I just want something to recite in my head as I hit that bag: “Chris The ________ My Last Name!”  (I’m not giving you my last name because then I know you’ll stalk me and probably ask for my autograph on your forehead and then we’ll get drinks and I’ll make you pay after you tell me you stole a pair of my boxer briefs.)

I don’t want it to be something too cheesy either, so I’m immediately crossing out The Destroyer, Hits You Hard and Iron Fists.

Yes, those were some I thought of this morning, and no, I am not more creative than that.

I also want it to be something that really strikes fear into that bag, because trust me, even though it’s an inanimate object, it’s heavy and it wears you out.  Kind of like trying to figure out Memento.

Of course I have to rule out anything to do with blogging, because I just don’t think “The Meme Poster” or “Obsessive Stats Checker” really have the effect I’m looking for.

I’ve thought of several more since I started writing this, and I have one now that I think I like.

Ready?

“Prime Cut.”

Oh snap!

You love it don’t you???

Think about it – it works on so many levels.  First, I’m a vegetarian, so there’s irony or something literary at work there and second (and the best reason) I deliver Grade A punches sucka!

Man, I am a genius or at the very least someone with too much time on his hands.

Okay, probably the latter, but really, could you do any better?

I can’t wait until tomorrow so I can tell the bag about my new nickname.  I will probably not tell the people training me, though.  I don’t want to make them jealous or anything.

oh yes, it will be good

There are times in a person’s life when he must go against what he believes to be right – when he must turn to the world and scream, “Yes, you may judge me – but I am doing this despite your challenges!”

It is these times, these moral wrestling matches, that make us who we are.

Perhaps it was that time you decided that turtlenecks were okay to wear in public, or maybe it was when you tried desperately to bring back “rad,” even though all of your friends stopped hanging out with you as a consequence.

You hear the whispers.

You see the stares.

Oh how they talk!

Oh how they stare!

But you press on.  You press on because who are they to tell you your behavior is deplorable?  Have they not sinned???  Were they not the ones who told you Paris Hilton’s album was worth buying?

Yes, you know them well.

And that is why you steel yourself to their disapproval.

You will do what you must because the end result will bring you much happiness.  You do this because every second of it will make you smile.

Yes, your decision is rash.  Yes, your decision is confusing.  But not to you.  In your heart you know that after all the smoke clears and the dust settles, you will be a better person for having gone through with it.

When I heard that Kim Kardashian was going to be on the next Dancing With The Stars, I knew this was one of those times for me.

I will watch her, not because it is something I want to do, because it is something I must do.

When the world asks me why, I will not offer a complex reason.

I will not utter some intellectual comeback.

Instead I will laugh at their foolishness, hand them this picture and calmly explain, “Ass so fat you can see it from the front.”

a portrait of the artist as a young man

Writing has been a part of me ever since I was about ten years old, and I have a collection of notebooks to prove it.

Of course I didn’t call the notebooks diaries, I called them “Gatekeepers.”  Currently, I have about ten volumes of the Gatekeeper in my apartment, which I’m sure will be sold to the highest bidder when I die and everyone finally understands my genius.

But just so you don’t have to wait until then, I have unearthed three true gems from my childhood for your viewing pleasure.

The following literary masterpieces were written when I was about 14 years old.

Can you feel the despair?

Despite the girl leaving me “etched in stone,” I can’t seem to remember her name now.

And what about this other guy who is short and blue?  Was this girl who caused me so much anguish dating a smurf???  Was I really that much of a loser when I was 14 that a smurf beat me?

Yes, I smoked at 14 – I had to, okay?  I was a poet!

I think the best line of this one is “long lines for the bathroom.”  If having to wait a long time to piss doesn’t make you write dark poems about how your vacation sucks, there’s something wrong with you.

Man, did I capture what it must be like to be a tire or what???

Please, though – I know I insist that you “drop your kid and see to the tire,” but don’t ever do that.  Put the kid in the car seat first.

Those are just a few of the hundreds of poems that one day I’m sure will garner millions of dollars from collectors of my works.

Maybe next time I’ll share the one I wrote about rain and how I didn’t care that it was hitting my face because “all I ever wanted was her.”

But that’s only if you’re lucky.

(New links are up on the Okay Playa page, go check them out and support those great bloggers.)

two worlds

This morning when I took Jack out to pee, I saw a hooker standing across the street from me and when she noticed me she smiled and said, “Good morning.”

I nodded and mumbled “Good morning” back, but it struck me that my definition of a Good Morning and her definition of a Good Morning are probably pretty different.

At that point in my day, a good start to me means that I got Jack to piss right away, I caught all the highlights I wanted to see on Sportscenter and I didn’t curse the heavens when I was trying to get my tie to cooperate.

For the hooker, I imagine it’s a slightly varied version.

In fact, for a hooker to have a Good Morning, it means that she had a Good Night, because that’s when all the action happens.

It must have meant that she got at least three guys to have sex with her, and maybe if she was lucky it was all at once – much more time efficient.

After that was done, she probably had some time to kill, so maybe she made a visit to the local crack dealer and got high while listening to The Beach Boys or something relaxing like that.

Then, feeling good and feeling fine, she probably roughed up the new girl on the block just to let her know “who the real bitch is.”

So when she finally ran into me, with my half open eyes and t-shirt on backwards, she probably thought I needed something to lift my spirits, thus the cheery greeting.

And even now, I bet her day is going better than mine, because I’m here at work and she’s probably passed out on the sidewalk somewhere, not a care in the world.

Well, aside from worrying about when she’s going to have sex with a random person for money again, but c’mon – who who hasn’t been there before?

down under

I’m not big on traveling, but one place that has always intrigued me, should I be forced to travel – is Australia.

I dare you to try and think of one bad thing about Australia.

You can’t!

I’ve loved that weird place ever since I saw Crocodile Dundee for the first time many years ago.  Who doesn’t love that crazy guy?  I imagine every male over the age of seven is exactly like Dundee – walking around with a big ass knife and wrestling crocs wearing a leather vest with no shirt on underneath.

Australia is also home to the boomerang.  I’d visit just for this alone.  I could come back to the states after mastering the skill and anytime I needed something from someone – whap!  I’d hit them with my boomerang instead of having to say, “Hey, could you hand me that folder?”

Much more effective don’t you think?  And without Australia we’d never even know about it!

Oh – I haven’t even mentioned the animals that live there.

Hey ladies, how about a koala?  Love them!  You can snuggle it instead of your boyfriend after sex.  Okay, maybe that’s a little weird, but either way, koalas are damn cute and you know you love them.

I know, now all you guys are thinking, “Well, what about us?  What animal do we get?”

Kangaroos man!

If I visited Australia, the first thing I’d do is find a Roo (I’ve studied extensively for this post and I now know the local language) and befriend it.

Roos are arguably the coolest animal ever.  They’re like that big, dopey roommate you had in college, always good to have on your side in case a fight breaks out, but also kind of dangerous because you never know when he’s going to snap after one too many Bud Lights and kick your ass instead.

I bet you didn’t even know Roos drank, did you?

Of course they do!

That’s yet another part about Australia that makes it fucking awesome – every single living organism is drunk all the time!

It’s not like here, where people expect you to be a loser by being sober during most of your waking hours.

I’ve sold you haven’t I?

You want to visit Australia now, I know it.  Well, let’s do it.  Get your tickets and I’ll meet you by the tree near the landing strip.

I’m sure I’ll already be shitfaced with my new friend Larry The Roo, but come over and say hi anyway, we’re both happy drunks.

routine check-up

What is with America’s obsession with TV shows based around doctors?

First there was MASH, which made war funny like I imagine it is (Silly Johnny, he stepped on a landmine!  But look, Radar is doing something quirky again!).  Following that we had Doogie Howser, who set the stage for a TV show where we watched someone typing on a computer (Carrie Bradshaw anyone?). Then there was ER, a show that will continue to air even after the Earth explodes.  Still, sensing that TV needed more doctor drama, there was Nip/Tuck, House (a doctor who plays by his own rules!) and Grey’s Anatomy.

I think that’s enough.

I don’t see what the lure is anyway, they’re all so damn fake. I don’t know about you, but my doctor visits are never anything remotely like what has happened on any of these shows.

My typical visit goes like this:

I walk in and scan the waiting room for the sickest looking person there, and find a seat as far away from them as possible.  I don’t want whatever Mr. Red Face has. I’ve got my own problems to deal with.

This seat is always farthest away from the magazines.  It never fails.

I sit until utter boredom takes over every cell in my body, including my sick ones, then venture over to get a magazine.  Of course the only magazines they ever have are either for kids or old ladies.  This gets to me, because what are they trying to say?  “Clearly you are a weak man, because only toddlers and grannies get sick. Hahahaha! You poor, sickly excuse for a man.”

I select Good Housekeeping and spend the remainder of my time waiting for the doctor reading about 30 minute de-cluttering tips for the laundry room.

When I finally get called into the room by the nurse, I examine all the posters on the wall and think that I probably have four out of the five diseases on them.

Finally, after the doctor comes in and does his magic/gives me pills before I even say anything, I leave the office, making sure to appear healthier and Full Of Knowledge when I pass by the poor saps in the waiting room.

That’s it really.

That’s all that happens.

I never see any impromptu make-out sessions between doctors, I never get to hear anyone yell about weird lumps on someone’s ass and I never get to see people who have some kind of crazy rash they got from a secret government experiment.

Though I bet Mr. Red Face is not as innocent as he seems.

the first step is admitting you have a problem

I have an addiction.

Ever since the site Someecards.com launched their “create your own cards” section, I have been making my own cards.

Nonstop.

It has gotten in the way of doing things like working, reading other blogs and peeing.

The problem is that I think they should hire me, because every time I make one, I think it’s as good as the ones on the site.  And I imagine they pay at least four million a day, so if they just gave me a job, I could live like I’ve always wanted to – in a basement drinking beer in my underwear.

Here are some of my creations:

This is me at just about every Adult Gathering I have to attend.

 

It’s always good to know there are others out there just like you.

 

I think we all know someone with a dickwad for a boyfriend.  It started with you noticing he still rocked a chain wallet, and it was all downhill from there.

 

College.  And sadly, maybe even after college.

 

This is what I want our wedding invitations to be.  To Ari’s credit, she is really considering making them our “Save the Date” cards.  She’s just concerned her grandfather won’t understand it, but I’m telling you, that guy has The Electric in him – I can tell.

I’m sure by the end of the day today I’ll have about 37 more made, but these are just a few that stand out to me.

Someecards – holla’ at your boy.

I’ll be waiting for your call.

well

The Internet is down at work and I’m posting this from my phone.

This is going to be a very long day. I might keep a live blog going of my adventure.

Or maybe I’ll just take my life.

Tell Beyonce I love her and I forgive her for keeping our wild, lusty romance a secret.

10:41 – Decided not to take my own life. I remembered I like beer too much to do that. Also, just got finished playing Hangman on the whiteboard here. The subject was “tv shows,” so I made mine Thunder Cats. When someone guessed it right, I yelled out, “Hoooh!!!” for dramatic effect. Not sure if my coworkers got that I was referencing Lion O, because I laughed and no one else did.

11:05 – There’s supposed to be an electrician coming in about half an hour. This, according to building worker Jose, who one time laughed at me when I told him the elevator wasn’t working. I don’t have much faith in Jose.

11:26 – Just had our first breakdown. The guy next to me whirled his chair around and proclaimed, “Alright! I’m going outside. I’m going to stand outside. And watch people.” Before I could say anything he was gone. I hope he comes back some day, he was a nice guy.

12:07 – My boss sent one guy home because his computer won’t turn on at all. The rest of us just stared at him as he walked out. It was so quiet in here when it happened, I think I heard my soul die.

12:46 – I’m going to sit in the park for lunch, because the level of conversation is quickly declining. Two friends and I just finished one which ended in someone saying, “I’d be a great dog.” We looked at each other and, after a moment of awkward laughter, decided maybe not talking for awhile is a good idea.

1:50 – At lunch a man approached me and mumbled something that I couldn’t understand.  When I asked him to repeat himself, he said, “Do you believe in god?”  I glared at him and replied, “No.”  He was stunned and backed up from me, as if maybe – just maybe – I was satan.  Right then a woman he was with came up to me and started to ask the same thing, but I interrupted her by waving my hands in her face and saying, “Aaaaaaahhh – no!  Go away now.”  They both left my life as quickly as they entered it.  I’m still wondering if I’m satan.  If I am I’m going to have to make sure there’s air conditioning set-up for when I get to hell.

2:33 – I just filled my water bottle up with water from the cooler (which has no power to it now) and it is neither hot nor cold.  It is tepid.  I thought about this for about ten to fifteen minutes.  I believe that people who say/type the word “tepid” probably suck, so I’m not going to use it anymore.

3:42 – The last hour consisted of Jose convincing me that he could vacuum the water up, my boss telling us that we could leave and then promptly changing her mind and me playing 13 games of pinball on my computer.  I have a little less than two hours to go.  My body remains strong but my mind is weakening.

3:57 – The “water” that I was talking about in the last update is water that had leaked from the ceiling and onto the floor behind my desk.  Jose’s vacuuming trick did not work.  I am now looking forward to the mold that will eventually form, then give me a respiratory ailment which years from now will kill me.  And it will have all started with a man named Jose.

4:21 – The Internet is back on!  I am typing this from my nice computer, instead of my moody iPhone.  The first thing I did was check my work email to see if Beyonce emailed me.  She did, but she wanted me to tell you that she didn’t.  I’m such a gossip!