A Day Late But...

Happy Tofurkey Day all!!

English Major is Top Shelf

BTW Top Shelf is the new "Special" which is the PC term for Retard. Just FYI.

So in the previous post I noticed I wrote "serpated" instead of separated. I usually also spell grammar as grammer.

So that is me, the Top Shelf English Major turned Marketing Coordinator (Aw crud, didn't mean to let that out before part II. Alright, there was your preview).

I could have just gone back and fixed my typos but who cares. My blog. I want the typos. Because this isn't a no nonsense blog. Its a who really gives a shit, no negativity, thing to take my mind OFF of the strict restrictions of life kind of blog.

But feel free to rain your editing demands on me. I probably won't read them. OK, I fib. I will. But I won't do anything about it. Because I am lazy. And top shelf. Just call me Blue Label. Thats the good one right?

Mommy Wow, Im a Big Kid Now Part I

SO, I haven't posted in two months. Failure as a blogger. Good reason? Sorta. Started a real job.
I apologize to the two people who might read this. I also havent really had material. Black is the new Black and I have been serpated and unfortunately don't speak that often anymore due to hectic crazy lives. We will be reunited at Better than Sliced Breads wedding in January so I am sure crazy antics will ensue.

I will write later. I shouldnt be on now as I am at work and its just not the lax atmosphere the city had (although I am jamming out to Billy Joel and watching the clock till I can go home since it is a slow day).

I will write a Part II and let you all in on the craziness that is the new job and try and make it humorous rather than bitchy :) I think I can pull it. I do have some rather funny experiances, I just want to be careful - no need for this blog to fall into the wrong hands!

Just so you know

BEST CANDY EVER!

Beware: Dirty Joke (And I mean Gross)

Whats green and smells like pork?


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Kermit the frogs finger!!! AHAHAHA

Apologies

We said (to ourselves) when we started this blog, we would blog everyday (ok ok, at least every weekday). We haven't done so. The last post was four days ago - I believe that was a Thursday. It was a long weekend, with little sleep and with the two people I've had to share a bed with (ok dirty minds, it was innocent... at least Friday night), tried to attack and abuse me in my sleep (punched, kicked, slapped, etc...). And either people knew they attacked me until I complained in the morning. Sigh.

Anyway, there haven't been posts, I'm sorry. I don't know what to post about right now and its Black's fault there is nothing in here anyway - it's his effing turn to write. I can't be held responsible all the time. You want to read my words? Go to www.rateyourstudents.blogspot.com. Saturday, September 8 post. My work. Enjoy. Until then, Black will just have to get his lazy fingers going, cuz I really can't think of anything entertaining or witty right now. Well, i'll take the witty part out, I don't know if anything ever is that witty - but I can't think of anything worth writing at the moment. Ill put the pressure on the other contributors. I'd call Since Sliced Bread out, but she hasn't even joined yet! Slacker.

I am so excited right now...

Black is kind of retarded. Not as retarded as I am, that is a sure thing. But, I think he doesn't listen to me. Months ago I ran into the office saying "I learned about the BEST artist EVER. Eric Hutchinson. Check him out." I then proceeded to myspace where I played two of my favorite songs: Oh, and OK is Alright With Me. Then a few days later, while cruisin in Red Vulva (my uh, Volvo, you sick dirty bastards), my OTHER favorite "EH" song came on (mix CD, of course): Outside Villanova. (ok hint here people, im giving you very good music!) Black was hooked, siting that I tend to lead him to good music (Pepper was another band I led him to).

HMMM yea, well today I come into the office and Black informs me Perez Hilton has discovered this hot new artist. PEREZ?!?!? no no no. I learned of the wonders of Eric Hutchinson through my cousin "Road to Idol" (holla) and her (hot... ok what?!?! he is) friend's younger brother, "I-Sing-Showtunes-But-Im-Adorable-and-Straight" (note, I prefer not to use real names here out of respect for others). I brought word of EH back to my family and friends. And now PEREZ is getting recognition??



BUT, ya know what?! It doesn't matter. I am thrilled that Perez has acknowledged Eric Hutchinson - because good music needs to be shared. And who cares who told who. Really. The fact is a wonderful thing happened. The word about EH got out, record sales went from "not-on-chart" to "off-the-chart," and eric hutchinson is available on i-tunes. so now, im pulling a perez. im shouting out on my blog (ok ok, our blog, i share this with two wonderful co-workers.. ASSUMING "...Since Sliced Bread" gets her redhead behind on here.

Bottom line, he is amazing (eric, not perez... perez is just funny and silly in a "i-am-from-hialeah-now-i-am-famous" kind of way). Check him out.


OH and I want tim tebows babies... or his clones babies... but that my friends, is for my NEXT post

In honor of the 20th Post - Im retarded

Im actually gonna let "Black" take the reins and tell the story of my morning escapade, since I am sure he can describe the retardedness that is I, Hamsa is my Mantra, much better than I will. I think he can add a little flair of humor to an already hilarious taking. Beside, I am tired of telling it. I do want to explain that my name, Hamsa signifies the idea that I accept who I am with all of my ups and downs, good traits and bad. As popeye would say "I yam who I yam." This means, I fully accept that I am retarded.


Anyway, yes, I have officially taken the cake. Just in case you weren't aware of my oddness from any of my other posts. Oh, I also (while explaining and flailing about in demonstration to another coworker) dumped half my lunch on the floor.
In honor of my own "idiocracy" (this is not a democracy, or cheerocracy, its an idiocracy and I rule all) I brought my coworkers each a can of DC (or diet coke for those not "in-the-know,") that were banged up and deformed. Because you know what, retarded soda cans, like retarded co-workers need love too.

A Fond Farewell

Rest well oh lover of commission meetings. I hope there is a suitable fax machine wherever you may be.

dammit a truce - and a speeding ticket

Fuck man, Black bought me lunch so now I must call a truce on account of the best pizza EVER. As black would say, "Way better than french fries." But still really fattening (guess im the pessimist on this count).


Now onto what I believe was God or whatever supreme being is up there saying SLOW THE FUCK DOWN MANTRA, SLOW THE FUCK DOWN. perhaps he wants me to smell the roses, or coffee, or maybe he just doesnt want me to be the cause for vehicular manslaughter, but yea here is what happened.

I wasn't paying attention (no really guys, I wasn't this time) and I got pulled over by a state trooper. Perhaps he was an angel. (I know you are thinking, did you really just call someone who pulled you over an angel? Do we not normally curse them? No, this man was an ANGEL). He asked if I knew how fast I was going - I answered honestly, no, but if I was being pulled over, I am sure I was going too fast and I apologized profusely. He informed me I was going about 32 miles over the speedlimit. (I was doing about 87 in a 55). I dont know how many of you are away but you CAN be arrested, or ordered a mandatory court apparance. Otherwise the ticket is about 350. This man, this NICE UNDERSTANDING TROOPER, instead of taking tired lil me in, believes me that I just wasnt watching, I was just driving, watching the road rather than my speed and DROPS MY TICKET DOWN TO 64 in a 55. For those of you who don't know that is 9 miles over the limit, and the lowest ticket you can get. That means my insurance will not go up, that means I may not have to go to that horrible driving class, that means my ticket is only 85 dollars! This is why I know someone up there is giving me my chance. I didn't get off scott free. But I didn't get punished as badly as I could have. I am definitely one lucky lil girl.

I smell a blog war breeding. And it's an internal one.

A Rebuttle...

... just to set the story straight, especially since I did take the correct meds today and am not a useless lump of flesh. One, I am so happy to have been OUTTED by Black. Thanks BUDDY. Two, welbutrin is NOT a bipolar medication (asshole). Three, I WAS TIRED!! IT WAS EARLY!! I AM NOT COLORBLIND!!! I JUST GRABBED AT ONE OF THE MANY BOTTLES I OPEN EVERY MORNING AND DUMPED PILLS INTO MY HAND (yes I know, bad idea) O.K. that was like four and five and six as well. But yes, my friends, I confused them. (They really do look similar, and I confused the small white round and the small LIGHT beige round pills). I slept under my desk for at least thirty minutes and on top of it for probably an hour. It felt damn good. Then I went home and napped for another hour before yoga. Then I napped on my yoga instructors bed for 20 minutes. While I am not many of what I am accused of being, I will admit to being a grade a idiot. And I am on meds. As I have been officially outted. By my friend. I won't out him though. I am just going to subject him to a very redneck being next weekend and let him suffer on his own. I think ill disappear for at least 15 minutes and let them sit in very ackward conversation together, kinda like I did to him with Dan when I had to sneak a cigg, except this time, it won't be so I can sneak off and enjoy a smoke, it will be for Blacks own discomfort (Poor J will just have to suffer along with it). Take that Black. TAKE THAT. The jury has spoken. (please forgive any spelling errors, I have not eaten, and since I have no money, it looks as if I won't for the rest of the day since Black the asshole refuses to go get free food with me... :-p )

Medical warning to color-blind bi-polar insomniacs

This is a very urgent warning for all color-blind, bi-polar insomniacs. Wellbutrin, although similar in size to Rozerem, comes in many colors including white (above). Other standard Wellbutrin colors include yellow (eye-scalding yellow) as well as red (think traffic lights and fire engines). Rozerem, on the other hand, comes in standard beige, which, after days without sleep and a minimum of 10 hours waiting in the doctor's office, may appear white. OR, to colorblind bi-polar insomniacs, they are both a very light shade of grey. But, a word of caution to all pill-popping sleepyheads: the effects of mixing them up could render you useless for a few hours (see post below). Alas, if you have any doubt in your mind as to which mind and mood alterting libation you are about to enjoy, simply read the letters on the pill. "Wellbutrin" is for Wellbutrin, and "RAM" (for Ramelton, the scientific name of Rozerem) is for Rozerem.

EDITOR'S NOTE: It has been brought to my attention that these can be swapped for great day dreaming and amazingly happy dreams.

And that, kids, is all she wrote.

woops

accidentally took a sleeping pill this morning. i can barely see the computer screen. perhaps its naptime. ive seen many a movie in which they make under the desk look quite comfortable...

Guess the language and win a prize

What am I saying here:

私は働くことをしたい気がしません。

E-mail me your guesses. If you're wrong, I'll yell at you in the above language so you don't know what I'm saying (and TRUST me, it'll be derogatory). If you get it right, I'll let you know in the above language because you obviously speak it.

Tyra Banks washes ashore in North Beach

Mrs. Fatty Banks came to Miami Beach today in her usual fashion– floating ashore. With a crew of photographers assembled to take every angle of her (there must have been 100 photogs there), she rolled her way towards the North Beach Bandshell. After the small children fleed from her greasy hands (as she tried to eat them), there was a sense of security that floated in the air around North Beach. But, like a lazy (analogy deleted due to it's graphic nature), this was but a calm before the storm. The moment craft services arrived with their usual bowls of M&Ms and generic-brand/flavor potato chips (now with 0 grams of trans fat), Tyra bolted like an 18-wheeler running a red light. As the Notorious B.I.T. (T for Tyra) began to pick up momentum, her weight thumped the ground heavily, knocking one of the photographers off one of the garden structures outside the bandshell. The falling photog landed fortunately on her assistant/shiny tent-holding person, which lucking broke her fall. The fallee, though, scraped her arm. Sensing a health concern, the assistant's LifeAlert quickly pierced the air, calling for the Fire Department to respond instantly. By the time the FD arrived, the photo shoot was over (the PD has REALLY bad response time) and the day was done.

And that, kids, is how babies are born.

Hmm

The past couple of posts have been really long lately, so here is a really short one.

A Post about nothing which SORTA turns into something (Or a rambling nothing)

I have absolutely nothing to blog about and therefore this post is about nothing. But is a post about nothing techincally something? You are, techincally, READING. Ever see the Never Ending Story? or is it the Neverending Story. Whichever. The first one. When the Child-like Empress' Empire was crumbling into nothing-ness? See, this isn't really like that, because there is still something here. Hmm.


You know, I blame all of this on Black is the New Black. He made me listen to this absolutely HORRIBLE techno-esque song where the only line I heard was "do you really want to hurt me."*** In fact, techno is still burning my ears.

I like 80s music as much as the next child born in the 80s. I am one of the ones who were around just long enough to stake some claim, know who and what you are talking about when you say "The Brat Pack," knows hair metal isn't actually metal hair and AC/DC isn't an AC company in Washington DC or whatever it is these youngsters now believe about the rockin 80s. (I admit, I am too young, however, to actively rememeber MOST of the 80s, but I do have a firm grasp on most of the 90s and therefore fully appreciate the 80s because, what is the early 90s without the 80s and if you talk to LM you will quickly find out my absolute favorite drunk song EVER is "You Shook Me All Night Long" and will dance in horrible 80s flailing fashion to it.) Hey, didn't The Neverending Story come out in 1984? Oh and don't get me started on Rainbow Brite - before she became an icon for sexuality, she was just a cute little girl on a pimp ass pony who fought the evil Dark Princess, silly bitch tryin to steal Rainbows belt. ugh... Although I am very proud of our little Brite for taking a more political stand as the years went by...

Wow, funny how a post about nothing became an 80s lovefest.

Anyway, onward with the rambling into nothingness which is really something, because this isnt the Neverending Story, which proved, something is not nothing and if you call out someones name then everything is allright (well as long as you call out the RIGHT name, I've found if you call out the WRONG name, well, sometimes people get a little upset... but thats for another post). But yea, it isn't the 80s, I don't mind Boygeorge. Its the techno. Perhaps the cyanide and explosm cartoon will explain my feelings.



I just can't take it, and Black is the New Black seems to take much joy in my suffering. I even sent him this cartoon and he giggle manically. There was no sympathy. And did the techno stop? Naw, it increased.

If you ever find me on the floor, bleeding from the ears. Well. You know who to go after.


*** I was just informed that BITNB does not have a techno version of the boygeorge song. It was just mixed in with techno and i must have blended the music together - although this just goes to show, im going crazy from techno. fuck.

the story of the three little piggies....

This is a story of the three little piggies. NOT THE story of The Three Little Pigs. Please - note the lower case title and the -gies after pig. In fact, as soon as the story begins, all upper case letters will be dismissed (this is also do to my laziness). Also, there will be no houses of staw, stick or brick; the only structure will be a sushi house. There will also be no wolves with absurd lung capacity; there are villains of a different sort - and villains they really are not, rather women of different nationality with a different view on, well, you will see... This is the story of how little piggies came to be. This story should not to be confused with the well known and beloved fairy tale. This blog, low budget (ok, no budget), does not need any copyright issues.

That being said, let's move on with our not so fairy tale of a story...

ehem, as i was saying, this is the story of the three little piggies. yes, they were very cute although completely unaware of their piggie status, they thought they were cute little "peoples". the first little "people" was from orlando, the second from the antilles, the third was from miami beach. the one from orlando was quiet but didn't always think things through, the one from antilles was smart but confused after the big trip, the one from miami beach was very bad with directions and had gotten very very lost on her way to find the other two "peoples" (something about confusing us1 and a1a) and she was a "little" clumsy. these three little "peoples" were laying down in a bed of feathers, watching a tv show about solving crimes and decided they were very very hungry.
"sushi," the third little "peoples" cried!
"aha!" cried little "peoples" one and two.
and so the adventure began. off to find the sushi house. did i mention these "peoples" were in a land called deerfield beach in the country of florida and none new the area well? yes. so they called out to the heavens, or 411, and requested of a sushi house, and then called back to the heavens, or dialed the number for the sushi house, and requested directions. back and forth they searched and wandered, or drove, making illegal turns, because the second little "peoples" had a little trouble, after a few years in the antilles, navigating the trans-am.
finally locating the location of their desires the three little "peoples" rush in eagerly awaiting a glorious meal.
"diet coke!" cries the first little "peoples."
"me too!" cries the second little "peoples."
"mmmm jasamine tea," says the third little "peoples," because you see, the third little "peoples" is on a yoga and mediation kick and thinks this will bring her closer to whatever it is she is trying to get closer to.
"dumplings!" cries the first little "peoples."
"edemame!" cries the second little "peoples."
"salmon sashimi!" cries the third little "peoples." remember, this little "peoples" has interesting tastes.
"pad thai, spider roll, mexican roll, beauty and the beast roll, hot and sour soup, another mexican roll..." the three little "peoples" eyes are wide as they call out order after order. by this time, the first little "peoples" has already burned his little mouth, or shall i say snout now, on a whole dumpling, the third little "peoples" hands have began to turn into little piggies hooves and she has poured hot jasmine tea all over her poor little piggies hands. the three jovial friends laugh so hard at their own silliness it is hard to tell if they are truely laughing or if they are, in all actuallity, snorting...
the waitress, eager for the little "peoples" (they are still, after all, under the impression they are little "peoples") to continue their gluttonous feast, runs forth with the promise of dessert.
"tempora ice cream!" the little "peoples" shout together, laughing and swaying in the joviality of the evening.
"ahh, fried banana," smiles the waitress coyly.
"no, no," smiles the third little "peoples", "fried ice-cream."
"yes, fried banana too." the waitress licks her chops. it is not the taste of little piggies she likes, she prefers greener food.
"does that come with fried ice cream," quips one of the other "peoples".
"ice-cream tempora, fried banana." with that the waitress walks away.
confused the third little "peoples" turns to a table behind them. it is a table inhabited by real people.
"did we order fried ice-cream or fried bananas," she politely inquires.
"i think you got both," responds the person.
giggiling the little "peoples" thanks the person, turning back to her friends, and the three break out into laughter at how much more would be arriving. they are no longer hungry but the idea of so much food seems humorous the them now. suddenly they hear "what little piggies!" the woman has called them out. they really are little piggies. more laughter erupts as they are not insulted, they are completely humored by this realization and embrace it as only little piggies can.
"we are little piggies," cries the second little piggie.
the third little piggie laughed so hard she snorts. it must be true! the third little piggie proves it so by hogging all of the ice cream. the waitress again confirms the assesment of the neighbor people by crying out:
"you eat a llloootttt, thats good!" her eyes gleaming at all of the green coming her way.
the little piggies laughed and smiled as they crawled back to the trans-am.
"i wonder what is in the fridge at home," wondered the first little piggie.

The fickle death of Castro

As of right now, he is dead. Now he's not. Now he is. Castro just called in to tell us that he is dead. Then he called back to say he was just kidding. Perezhilton.com says that the only way he'll believe he's still alive is if the Cuban government parades him around Havana. But, alas, the flaw... Haven't you ever seen Weekend at Bernie's? What about Weekend at Bernie's 2 or even Weekend at Bernie's 3? They're all crowd-pleasers and top-sellers on the netflix.com "movies about guys who are dead but aren't believed to be so" list. Also on the list are a lot of Elvis movies. Back to the point. As a someone-else-proclaimed pessimist, I would like to fix that stigma and say that I believe Castro is dead. Which is a good thing in Miami. Matt=Optimist. Anonymous "other" person who calls Matt a pessimist=Pessimist.

sigh

My phone is more of a tease than a female high school virgin...

Lunch time conversations

Matt: blah blah blah soddering phone blah blah blah still breaks, something about phone being useless

Me: Um, sorry what? I wasn't really listening to you talk

Matt: Yea, I wasn't really talking

Optimism vs. Pessimism

Matt and I couldn't decide who was the optimist and who was the pessimist. This string is a battle between the two. It kinda goes back and forth.



Matt: Well, Id rather go the way of an Anurysm. I think it would be really painless
Michele: Um, no, I think it would be really painful, like the worlds worst migraine
Matt: Or extreme relief, like, popping the biggest zit you've ever had. The zit of life.
Michele: So does that make me the pessimist, since I see it as extreme pain?
Matt: Yea, I see it as relief.
Michele: Well obviously you are the glass half full and I am the glass half empty...
Matt: hahahaha. true.
Michele: Oh, wait. No, you want to die, I want to live. Guess that makes me the optimist.
Matt: Shit.

Outcome:
Michele: Optomist
Matt: Pessimist


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Crossing the street...

Flashing hand..

Matt: Oh we can make it.

Hand stops flashing.

Michele: WE CAN STILL DO IT
(runs across the street -- Matt waits -- Michele victory dances on other side)

Matt: obviously you thought you would survive, I thought I would die. You win, yet again.

Outcome:
Matt: Pessimist
Michele: Optimist

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more to come...

I live on the edge...

Most of you DON'T know I have ten piercings in my ears. Or at least you didn't, because now you do.

I took them out after college - or at least I took 7 out (one I love too dearly and it is easily hidden).

Yesterday, while checking out my cute self in the mirror - or making sure my outfit was acceptable for public eye - or checking out my cute self in the mirror - I spied an old cartilage earring on the windows edge. Would it still manage to fit? I was soon to embark on that adventure.

Ignoring the wise advice of piercers and doctors and friends, I skipped sanitizing and went straight for my ear. I told you, I LIVE ON THE EDGE! I got it halfway through to find, sadly, the hole had closed halfway; but I am not one to be discouraged. Wincing slightly, ignoring my brothers murmurs of "you idiot" I worked that hoop back through the hole. I did it, I repierced my ear! I look forward to traveling down the same road for the other two carts that remain naked and alone.

I am in so much pain.

Ode to the red voice mail light

Your redness I love,
Like a fresh-plucked tomato–
Basil garlic salad with greek olives,
I press you down but no–
You come back on.

Enter the passcode,
Followed by the pound–
Signs that I'm gone too long,
Out of the office, not around–
I'm at lunch.

My overhead light's off,
But you stay lit up–
'Side my dialpad buttons. Scoff–
At my inability to stop–
Signs that I'm not here.

Your body never rings,
But you are on because. You–
Turn on from a forward. Ding,
You won't go away. Now two–
Tones buzz when I pick up the handset.

One. Two, Three/Four. Five. Pound,
The damn key doesn't work–
Force the thing, up-side-down,
Monkeys could do this. Jerk–
Off my desk. Damn light.

Frustration dials for help,
You stay lit despite IT support–
Ho's leav'n msg's like the operator,
Kill me now before I report–
Summary in an e-mail.

"Check your messages they're full,"
Unlike your head you bitch–
Complain again to no avail,
The phone's broken. I've got an itch–
This is not my password.

I like to

My favorite language is portuguese. I have a tendency to make noises that I believe resemble portuguese - I have been told they don't...

It all began with OOLONG

Opening conversation

Me: Did you know oolong tea is the most popular tea... ever
Friend**: Noway. Where?
Me: Um...... everywhere...?
.......
Friend: I wonder if this has lead in it....

Blank stares

Me: We should make a blog...
Friend: About what?
Me: Nothing
Friend: Perfect... it's name?
Me: I wonder if this has lead in it...

so it began...


oh, by the way, I know the chinese characters for man and woman...

** Friend is friend named Matt. Friend was friend to give Matt anonymity. He wanted to be acknowledged. Hi Matt. Matt is apparently over buttons in cars. He would prefer knobs -- and voice activation. Ah, the future.