Everything I Like Causes Cancer: October 2010

10/29/2010

The Big Wicked Online Pageant

Posted by Gwen | Labels: It's A Blog Party - Bring Your Own Big Cup

With the exception of free candy from strangers, scary stuff is my favorite part of Halloween: ghosts, goblins, ghouls . . . and pictures from childhood. Earlier this week the lovely and talented Beckeye invited folks to participate in a bit of blog pageantry dubbed The Big Wicked Online Pageant. Not being one to miss an opportunity for public ridicule, I called my mom and asked her to find and scan the evidence.

My mom has gotten much better at framing a shot since then.

Making an educated guess, I'd say this was Halloween of 1984, which would mean I was 15 and my brother was 4. Mom made our costumes. At the time I hated that we were dressed alike; I hated that we were bumblebees; I hated that our costumes were homemade - I was, after all, a teen girl and, therefore, hated everything - but I love this memory and this picture of us. I mean, seriously, how freaking cute was my brother? He was simultaneously the kid you wanted to eat with a spoon and the kid you wanted to beat with a stick.

The deadline is fast approaching but please join in the fun . . . The Rules According to Beckeye are as follows:

Scan a photo from your Halloween past. (Ideally, the photos should be from your childhood but we'll take what you've got.)
Post it to your blog on Friday, October 29.
Once you post your photo, email her the URL to the specific post.

My mom also sent this photo which depicts the first-ever wearing of my infamous Sacajewea costume (also made by my talented madre):

You remember this one, right? From when Whiskeymarie was here the first time? When we fake-pooped in stuff and she woke up wearing this very costume on Sunday morning, a mere 50 minutes before her flight took off? Yeah, that one. Good times. She keeps emailing me telling me how much she misses me. This one's for her. I'd better go email her back or she'll send me rotten eggs and angry wolverines.

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10/19/2010

Color me confounded

Posted by Gwen | Labels: bodily fluids, Exhibit A proving that my mother dropped me on my head as a baby, Superpoop

During a smoking lounge discussion yesterday someone used the phrase "shit eating grin" and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since. I mean, why would someone be happy about eating shit?

Happy Tuesday, shit eaters. Keep smilin'!

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10/18/2010

Lazy Monday Post

Posted by Gwen | Labels: If you graph it it must be true

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10/14/2010

Peabody on Daddies

Posted by Gwen | Labels: The Peabody Parables

My mom has been married several times. I'm not going into the details of it here because that is her private business and not my story to tell. All you need to know of the back story for this post is that I've had multiple dads.

The other day I was telling Peabody about an on-line dating proposition I'd recently received from an older, married man who just wanted to have sex and was willing to buy me things in exchange. She and I were discussing whether having a sugar daddy constitutes prostitution when she interjected, "You know, with all the daddies you've had I'm surprised you haven't had a sugar one."

[You can find other snippets of the unintentional hilarity uttered by my bestie Peabody here and here.]

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10/08/2010

I really want to show you the big hole in my alley.

Posted by Gwen | Labels: That's what she said

A couple months ago I sent a tweet to my city government advising them of an increasingly large sinkhole in the alley behind my house. They replied, advising that a work ticket had been made with the street department who had until August 20 to respond. August 20th came and went without any action. I lost faith in twitter.

About a week later I noticed action had been taken: the street department had placed a flashing-light barricade over the sinkhole. I giggled. Whatever.

This morning, however, I was awakened at the ass-crack of dawn by a jackhammer and I cursed. Really bad words. Ugly stuff.

As I write this, a team of 3-4 guys is using a backhoe to dig a ginormous hole where the sinkhole used to be. Like, so big that they have a dump truck back there to hold all the dirt they're hauling out and I just saw a guy go down in the hole and his whole body disappeared. I can only suppose that they are trying to find, or get to, the cause of the sinking so they can fix it. I really want to go out there to take a picture of the big hole in my alley, but I'm still in my pajamas (no bra) and I've got pink hair dye in my bangs. And bad breath. (I work from home twice a week, shut it.)

Anyway, I plan to run out there to get a picture if the workmen ever walk away from the hole. Stay tuned! It's possible we'll be able to see Chinese people.

UPDATE:

Eventually - 45 minutes later, to be exact - I had to get the hair dye out of my bangs so I took a shower (and brushed my teeth) (but did not put on a bra - it's FRIDAY, people) and ventured out to the hole. There are still two guys out there so I had to stay inside the fence and couldn't get the shot I wanted, but this will give you an idea of the depth of the hole in my alley:

There is a man standing down in there that you can't see because he is waaaaay down in there. Plus, he didn't want to be in the picture and I was honor-bound to oblige him. I credit the lack of a bra for the photo-op they did allow. Free Boob Fridays (but no China-men) for all my friends!

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10/05/2010

Statistics

Posted by Gwen | Labels: 75% of all statistics are made up like these

I don't intend to keep going on about the sudden popularity of this blog (tres gauche!), but before all this new attention EILCC was just a place where I posted the things that ran through my head for the entertainment of a group of friends, people who had been here a long time. My audience was familiar, like family.

But now? Now I feel like I accidentally ripped a loud fart in the middle of a fancy party during an unexpectedly quiet moment and suddenly every pair of eyes in the room is locked on me. No, worse - like I farted in the middle of a fancy party, the room went dark, a spotlight lit up over my head, and THEN everyone in the room turned to look right at me. I can't decide whether to giggle hysterically or to panic and blame it on the dog.

Excited, I've spent a lot of time thinking about all of you new people: who you are, what you're like, what you like to do, whether or not the carpet matches the drapes. In fact, I daydreamed about you so much that, without intending to, I crafted a list of statistics about you:

As I wrote this, 75 of you were having sex. (High five! after you've washed your hands.)
It's even possible that 2 of you were doing it with each other. (It could happen.)
21% of you ride scooters for fun on the weekends. (Helmets, please.)
16% of you are not wearing pants.
4 of you still drink Tang.
Of the16% of you not wearing pants, 2% of you are touching yourself inappropriately. (Stop it. You can wait until you've finished reading this post.)
3% of that 2% you are going to want to tell me you really were touching yourself. (Don't.)
100% of me wants to switch the topic.
12% of you are eating some sort of whole grain cereal for dinner. (That's not enough for dinner. Eat a piece of fruit. Monkeys like bananas.)
56% of you like hats.
89% of you also write a blog.
One of you is a secret mime and spends too much time thinking about how to use keyboard symbols to make a box in the comments.
3% of you are seriously into Heavy Metal. (\m/)
One of you has man hands and keeps Asian teens in your basement. (You know who you are. I miss you.)
Three of you attend a monthly LARP event.
30 of you don't like me anymore.
7 of you are using a keyboard missing its "S" key.
63% of you dance it out in the dining room when you have the house to yourself.
24 of you read romance novels but don't admit it.
Everybody likes sammiches!

If these stats are accurate, ~~it would surprise the crap outta me~~ I don't think I have any reason to fret: you newbies are really nice, and the alumni are just as weird as you are.

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