Monday, March 16, 2009

Pet Peevery, part deux

".......Tell em why you mad son, tell em why you mad!"

Ok, so I guess my attempt at soliciting information has backfired, but nonetheless, I am still compelled to write. One of my biggest pet peeves, and it actually may be the biggest, is when people incorrectly label my BELOVED borough of birth and residence. I LIVE and BREATHE Brooklyn. The proper acronym when referencing this 84 sq. mile borough is "BK". I am quite offended and appalled when someone refers to BK as "the BK". Oh, the horror. I dont live in THE that for THE Bronx, and even then, you may have incorrectly referenced their borough's acronym as they are more of "Da Bronx" than "The Bronx". So, be warned people who call Brooklyn "the BK". I may viciously strike you in the adam's apple, repetitively and without warning or provocation; don't say you havent been warned! It's BK damnit!!!

BROOKLYN, We go hard!!!!!!

Pet Peevery

Good morning great people! Yes, WE can. Yes, WE did. YES, I am still alive and kicking, inhaling, holding my breath, and exhaling a sigh of relief to still be here.

This post is a tad different from my usual musings. I usually rant about something and solicit your responses to what I've written, but today, I am soliciting first. I would like to know what are your pet peeves? What really gets on your nerves? I guess in asking, I should let you know one of mine. I HATE HATE HATE poor grammatical construction and mispelling, and misuse of words. Por ejemplo ( y'all didnt know I was a polyglot -- look it up cuz I'm sure half of you are unsure of what it means), when people say, "On tomorrow". Clearly, it is NOT the same as saying, "On Friday".

Anyway people, let me know something. Elvis is BACK in the building!

Thursday, December 18, 2008

New York City Nuances

How come you cant get good pizza, bagels, and chinese food outside of New York City? Now, you non-native New Yorkers might find offense in that blanket statement only if you have never ventured to NY to a pizza shop, the bagel shop/deli, or a Chinese restaurant. My explanation is that these types of restaurants in other locales are too clean; they dont have that yo no se que (sp?).....that particular New York filth, grease and grime about them. Filth, grease and grime are New York nuances.

In addition to the NY nuances listed above, has anyone else ever noticed the NYC bodega nuance(s)?? Most, if not damn near all bodegas (or maybe it's just the ones I frequent) have NO cash register. The add the cash total of the items you purchase on a big calculator! And they keep the "menudo" or "cambia" in an old cigar box. And there always seems to be a cat in the store. Now, I am not opposed to pets, BUT, I would rather not have Fluffy climbing about my $.25 cent bag of Wise BBQ potato chips or rubbing up against the Bounty paper towel that I need! But, in any event, I LOVE NEW YORK!!

and um gone....

Thursday, December 11, 2008

The trials and tribulations of BILLS

Is it possible for one to have trials without tribulations? The thing is, when you hear someone speak about difficult times, and a period of hardship, they ALWAYS say trials AND tribulations. Can't you just have one or the other? Can't a person just have some tribulations? And as my man Forrest Gump says, "That's all I got to say about that.....Jen-nny!"

And one other thing has been on my mind. If you are like me, and I pray for your sake that you are not, you receive junk mail and catalogs galore. Usually, these items are addressed as such:

Mr. John Smith
OR Current resident
123 ABC Street
New York, NY 11111

I'm saying, can the company that sent this mailing make up their fuggin mind? Is it for me or not? And what if I am the current resident. But notice how they dont do that with bills. I am hereby requesting that henceforth, all my bills be addressed in the same fashion, to me or the current resident. Let that current resident bastard pay some of my exceesive debt since he'll be receiving mail that is POSSIBLY addressed to me!

I think I will put this in writing to my state senator, my congressperson, and president-elect obama.

and I'm gone.....

Thursday, December 4, 2008

If it aint rough, it aint right.

For the record, pork is pork, beef is beef, fish is fish, and poultry is poultry. Please DONT ever ask me if I want turkey bacon. What the hell is turkey bacon? Did a turkey and a pig have intimate relations? I need to know. And I swear on Daniel Day-Lewis' left foot that if anyone ever tries to feed me "tofurkey", I will continously thrash them about head and shoulders with said tofurkey and a bag full of rusty buffalo head nickels. Seriously, who thought up meatless meat?

Anyway, on a lighter note, and especially since I've already written a similar post, I digress into the Plaxico Burress situation. First of all, who in THEE FUGG, not to be confused with the fugg, named this man? What the fugg is a Plaxico? Did his momma sneeze when they asked her what she was going to name him? Imagine.....

Dr: "Ma'am, so what are you going to name the baby Burress"
Dr. "God bless you. Now repeat that for me"

C'mon dude, really, how are you going to get into trouble and your first name is Plaxico? Now you have reporters all over the country fuggin up the newscasts trying to pronounce your damn name. And Chedda Bob Burress, if you havent been shamed enough, you shot yourself. You SHOT YOURSELF! What kinda teammate is Antonio Pierce? Wasnt he there with you? If I were with one of my friends, and said friend shot themself, I would take the fall, if for nothing else than to make the story more plausible and less assholish. Plax, just put some tofurkey on that gunshot wound and you'll be ok....

and I'm the roof!

Wednesday, December 3, 2008

Da Luminum Foil Chronicles

(note: Mrs. Microphone Master, Super Rhyme Maker - I have added you to my blog list so that you can be kept in the loop with my writing....and this post is about you dear!)

Tis the season to be jolly, fa la la la BULLsh!t. How can I be jolly with the world's economy and my pockets imploding? Well, at least I have my health, and my teeth, and a lifetime supply of aluminum foil. I swear, I used to think that my grandmother, GOD bless her, used A LOT of aluminum foil....a hell of a lot. If there were ONE solitary pea left over from dinner, it would get wrapped up. A slice of bread, let's get to wrapping.....a lemon wedge, a whole turkey, 3 grains of rice, WATER....yes, it would get wrapped up. But my ever-loving wife has taken the crown.

I swear when I die, my funeral will not be costly because my wife is just gonna wrap my arse in aluminum foil and put me in the refrigerator. My wife wraps EVERYTHING in aluminum foil. I categorically blind myself on a daily basis just going in my refrigerator. Who woulda thunk that I would need special sunglasses to grab some leftovers? That glare from the light in the fridge reflecting off of the foil is worse than looking directly at the sun. And no wonder I still have a tan; I went to the western Caribbean in August...and it's December! Yup, you guessed it - I exercise tan maintenance by going into my refrigerator. The reflected and refracted light from the foil ever so gently kisses my skin, exciting my melanin.

People, just do me a favor. When that time comes, and my number is called and I am no more, please make sure that my wife wraps me in REYNOLDS WRAP. That store bought stuff is no good. Thanks! That's all I ask. And I'm ya hun! LOL.

Monday, November 24, 2008

The Laundry Touchers

As per the by-laws of the cooperative in which I live, no shareholder is authorized to have a washing machine or dryer on the premises in their individual unit. Thus, I must use the laundry room that is located in the building on the ground level, or, take my clothes to an external laundry facility. Yesterday, on a brisk Sunday, my wife and I decided to do our laundry. Again, it is a common room that all shareholders have access to. Now a typical load of laundry takes about 38 minutes, give or take. Because I am a jack of all trades and a master of none, I do not have the time to sit in the laundry room whilst the clothes are washing. It behooves me to conduct other constructive activities in the interim. I find it completely reasonable that I return to the laundry room 45 minutes later to retrieve my freshly laundered linens and place them in the dryer. Lo and behold, upon my return to the laundry room, someone had removed my clothes from the washing machine so that they may use it. 45-38 is 7 (yes, sometimes I am mathematically inclined), so my clothes were in the machine for an extra couple of minutes. That poor rat bastard was so impatient that he/she could not wait? Was it that imperative that they wash at that specific moment?

See, the clothes that I washed were of no particular importance or value, but this has happened to me previously, when washing my undergarments, also known as MY DRAWZ! Now, what kind of NASTY SUMBITCH are you to fondled someone else drawz, laundered or not? That is some nasty sh%t? I would NEVER take someones funky arse crustified, jism'd up, hershey squirted down, frillies out of a washing machine so that I could use it. It's downright nasty and rude to say the least. And to the person who did it yesterday, as well as in the past, I say to you, "POX be upon your laundry. May bleach spill on your coloreds, may your whites stay soiled, and I hope you have several of my pubic hairs under your fingernails! Nasty bastard!"

ok, I'm cool now. Thanks for letting me vent. And I'm gone......

Thursday, November 6, 2008

Let me see you...TOOTSIE ROLL


We are zooming into the year 2009 and I have a question burning in my mind? Who in the fugg eats Tootsie Rolls in this day and age? They look disgusting and taste equally as disgusting. They look like chihuahua sh*t. They look like someone cut off Flavor Flav's fingers and packaged them neatly.
And I imagine they taste like sh*t as well. Not that I am a shit tasting connoisseur, but, I imagine if for some God-forsaken reason I ever had to ingest some fecal matter, it would taste like a Tootsie Roll. Tootsie Rolls should be used for torturing inmates in prison, and Guantanamo Bay and the like; Tootsie Rolls and black licorice. They act up, shove about 7 strands of black licorice and 4 Tootsie Rolls in their mouth at the same time. They wont talk, and you need information, shove 19 Tootsie Rolls and 2 black licorice in their mouths...then pour Red Devil hot sauce in their eyes and put garlic peels in their nose. Obviously, I have had too much time to think about this...but yeah, this is what I do.

And I'm gone.........

Wednesday, November 5, 2008

What is that smell?


Have you ever had one of those days where you smell a particular stench and you cant place it, and there are no reasonable suspect nor clues around so that your resort to thinking that it might be you? I am kinda having one of those days. I am at my usual place of, not the corner.....and I smell something horrifically (is that a word) foul. It smells like a shitburger with a large order of fries. Usually, I would think it is my coworker. He usually smells like a fresh, early morning cow patty, or an old sock, and sometimes the combination of the two. However, he is not in the office at the moment and I have RENUZED and sanitized his area with an industrial strength germicide and antiseptic spray, repeatedly. Yet, the smell is still in the air.

I love the smell of napalm in the morning......not the smell of ass lint. This smell is killing me, and I can not place it. Could it be possible that as I traversed these mean New York City streets that I stepped in something so foul smelling that it is beyond reproach? I know it can not be anything that I am clothed in because I wash my own gott damn clothes and I wash them with TIDE (with bleach alternative). And for the $50-11 dollars that TIDE costs, my clothes better smell as fresh as newborn baby ass after a diaper change. WHAT THE FUGG is this odor. I cant call it good people, I cant call it.

Change.....and spare change.

Good afternoon good people. Today, this fifth day of November, I am posting for the first time in about 2 weeks and so much has happened since then. Last night, Barack Hussein Obama handed John McCain an arse whooping for the ages, becoming the President-elect of the United States. Now, I'm sure we can all revel in the significance of this momentous occurrence, however, it is my wish that the energy, drive, and passion it took to get this far is not lost because Obama won. Yes, he won. But, there is still work to be done and the same passion and commitment that was used to get him elected needs to be used to affect the change we all hope for. Then, and only then, in the face of a imploding economy, can we have some spare change in our pockets, because as of now, my arse is broke. Please Obama, bring some SPARE CHANGE with you to the White House (are we still going to call it the White House?). Yes, money is the SPARE CHANGE that we can ALL believe in. When I see Obama, I don't see Black or White, I see GREEN! Show me the money Barack, show me the money! YES, WE CAN. YES WE DID!