Mr. Butterworths is in a happy place

2008-02-25T08:49:00.000-08:00

OK, so when exactly did hearses go out of style? One of the delights of Hopkins is that in order to get to my entrance into the building from the shuttle, I have to walk past the loading dock where they load and unload dead bodies from the morgue. Now, I’m guessing that it is mostly unloading from the morgue, but, this is the ol Johnny Hop, so who knows what kind of pathology experiments they are running on corpses that get delivered here. But, in any case, death must be very popular right now, because I swear those doors have been having more traffic in the past 3 weeks than I have seen there over the past year. And yet the funny thing is, hardly anyone is using hearses. I’ve seen minivans, full size molester vans, a firggen station wagon, and 3 different SUV/Suburban type vehicles.
Now, when I am out driving and I see a hearse, there is always that inner monologue that takes place, “Oh that poor person. That poor family. Is there a procession coming? I should call Grandma” blah blah. There is a certain amount of respect that cars give to an oncoming hearse. You don’t cut them off, you let them make turns, you check to see if they are leading a procession with limos. I suspect a large part of that is the feeling of getting freaked out by the dead body in the car, but there is also the general respect for the dead, and conversely the bloke driving them around. But big ol’ white molester vans with no windows? No one has respect for those on the road. You might steer clear for fear of a ladder falling off a roof rack, but how freaky would it be to have one of those in an accident followed by a casket falling out? Am I wrong for wanting a bit more dignity for a dead parent than a dodge minivan?

I guess all the remaining hearses have been picked up by goth kids.

2008-02-07T12:38:00.001-08:00

Anagram voting time!

Chesapeake primary = Earmark Peachy Pies
Mmmmm, delicious!
= Preachier May Speak
Huckabee will come here. bleh.
= Impeaches Payer Ark
But Huckabee will be done after this. yay!
= Appeaser Arm Hickey
McCain will shake so many hands he’ll get a mark. Or
something. whatever.

But the real story.....

Barack Hussein Obama = Has Samurai Backbone
Fantastic! He'll protect us.
= I bake anus cobra hams
Hmmm. I dont like those.

Hillary Rodham Clinton = Charm Any Trillion Hold
Fantastic! Balanced, reduced budget here we come!
= Chlamydia Thorn In Roll
This could be a problem, because no one likes those.

2007-12-05T12:49:00.000-08:00

dear paper, envelopes, books and notebooks,

please, PLEASE, stop giving me paper cuts. seriously. this was my 5 paper cut in a week. why? is it some weather thing? does the cold weather drying my hands out make them more
susceptible to your evil slicing? why must you open a gateway into my body? i have gateways already and they are all doing just fine, thank you. now i have 5 different ways to look inside myself to see red and pink. i know i am red and pink inside, because i know we are all red and pink inside because i am enlightened and unracist. so why are you openning me. do you know how hard it is to type the letter "o" with a papercut on your right ring finger? do you know how much it hurts to write "do you know how"? it hurts sooooooo much. that hurt too. ow. fuck, wwwwwww. that is my new way ta type pain.
why are you hurting me paper, envelopes, books, and notebooks? i have a shitload of reading to do for class, and it al involves paper, so stop. so can you just knock it off? ok?
thanks,
me.

2007-11-16T11:50:00.000-08:00

Things I learned this week:

1] The answer to all words in the crossword puzzle are either “piss,” “shit,” or “piss shit.” Or rather those are all the answers if you are the woman I sat watching yesterday. As she sat in Union Station’s Au Bon Pain, chewing a pencil, she would shout one of the three as if each time it was revelation, & furiously write her answers in the Express crossowrd.

2] The fusion trend in culinary experiments has led to very bad things. Like my coworker putting chili and cheese on her sushi.

3] My biggest hope for the spring is that American Idol will have a night devoted to The Music of Heart.

2007-09-21T06:19:00.000-07:00

Because the world is a wonderful place, my soon-to-be hubby's 84 year old mother loves Kathy Griffin. we saw her perform in Bmore a few weeks ago, and laughed hysterically for hours. hooray, hooraw, she came back into the area with three shows in DC over the past few days, creating the perfect opprotunity to take momma to go see her. a few lessons!

1] no matter how much you prepare youself mentally, there is no way to be comfortable sitting next to an incredibly sweet 84 year old woman while a comedian makes jokes about Barbara Walter's post-menapausal choices in lube
2] i love love love watching really funny people as they start to fall in love. her descriptions of steve wozinak tickled me
3] goddamn the DC queens annoy me. you can spend your life primping and lifting to be as desireable as possible, but when 6 [SIX!] of you bump into an 84 year old woman [espeically one cool enough to like a foul mouthed fag hag comedian] without ONCE saying Excuse Me, Pardon Me, or Why Dont You Go First Ma'am, then i have no use for the lot of you. i'll take the d-list baltimore gays over the A-gay asshats anyday. thank god somehow i managed to find the one DC man with enough manners to please my midwest upbringing.

2007-09-13T06:09:00.000-07:00

somethings i should know by now as a clumsy adult, and yet i dont. namely, DESPITE having done it in the past without issue, DESPITE having more in my hands than usual, and DESPITE having already had enough coffee to be awake, i should know better than to put a packet of mayonaise into my pants pocket as i carry my food out of the cafeteria.

ever been in a crowded checkout line, reach into your pocket to grab coins and pull out a handful of goopy white quaters and nickels? dont recomend it.

2007-08-17T06:59:00.000-07:00

Furry little karma

So this morning was a perfect example of how mother nature/the cosmic forces of the universe shall smite you when you act up. Earthquakes all around the globe, hurricanes bearing down, human bridges and mines collapsing all over the place, yeah yeah yeah, but I am dealing with the little shit. Quite possibly literally.

So this morning I looked at my box of whole wheat waffles in the freezer, the fruit salad I prepared Monday, and the box of Kashi BFF Super Colon Blow, and decided that I wanted Doritos for breakfast. Cue the inner dialog:
‘you cant eat Doritos for breakfast’
Yes I can, I say so
‘you just went to the grocery store to get good food for you’
But I want Doritos.
‘you’ll be hungry in an hour at work’
I’m an adult, I’m not in a social justice volunteer program that curbs my food budget anymore, I can throw out all green M&Ms, eat popcorn for dinner, and I CAN HAVE DORRITOS IF I WANT THEM. So there, conscience, take that.
‘yeah, remember how you are trying to loose weight?’
Screw it. Cheesy Doritos goodness for breakfast. I win.
‘fine you win. Regret it later.’

So there I was, indulging in doritos and coffee for breakfast as I watched the Today show. I was just going to have a handful, but, of course, I ate my way down to the bottom of the mostly consumed bag. As I am scooping up the crumbs at the bottom, the part that tastes the best, I look down, and alllllll around my shoes there are dorrito crumbs.

Hmmmmm, that’s odd…I don’t remember being that messy….ha ha ha, this totally reminds me of that time 6 years ago when I was eating chips during that volunteer year and as I got to the bottom of the bag and saw a big mess on the floor, and then realized that a mouse had eaten out the bottom corner of the bag, and presumably a bunch of the chips that I was eating. That was the grossest thing ever. I thought I was going….

….wait.

[lift bag of dorritos up. Rotate bag slowly. See neatly nibbled semicircle entrance into bag of dorritos]

Twice. Mother fucking twice. Twice now I have gluttonly eaten chips, shoving handfuls of crumbs into my mouth only to realize that those same crumbs hours before were a swimming pool of food for a vile little mouse.

The next 5 minutes were spent running in circles up and down the stairs trying to decide if I was going to puke, should try to puke, or should try to pretend that this never happened. I settled on not puking, taking 5 mulitvitamins, two Airbornes, and an aspirin that I told myself was a valium. Thought about drinking Listerine, but decided that showing up to work feeling gross and drunk might not be best.

So here’s hoping that I didn’t eat mouse fur, fingernails, and shit for breakfast. And if I did, that swallowing an Airborne while it is still fizzing will knock out any germs bubbling around in my stomach.

Remember that kid who was always a know it all? It was Joanne Beno in grade school, and that is exactly who was laughing in my conscience voice today inside my head.

2007-07-09T10:26:00.000-07:00

Today is my birthday. And today, I discovered a profound truth. Never ever ever spend the day before your birthday digging up sod/up-rooting weed trees [that looked cute for a year or two and now are attacking walls]. Normally when you do such yard work, you wake up the next day feeling sore. When you do such the day before your birthday, you wake up feeling old.

And can I just say how disappointed I am in my horoscope. I hardly ever read the horoscopes, except on my birthday. I cut out the little ‘If Today Is Your Birthday” section, shove it into my wallet, and carry it for a year, just for shits and giggles.

Last year’s: “ It’s your year to prove to the world and to yourself that you can create whatever you set your mind to have, be, and do. Many notice your good deeds in August – the acknowledgement feels fantastic. Admission to an elite groups is featured in September. Finances perk up with a change in your work during October. Leo and Sagittarius people adore you.”

This year’s: “with tenacity, you’ll conquer your main obstacles.”

Thanks stars. No really, thanks. Last year, nothing on my plate. This year, applying for a new job, starting grad school and getting engayged. I’ll fire up the tenacity.

A special shout out to my special share-the-day homies, Courtney Love, Donald Rumsfeld, and OJ Simpson.

2007-07-03T06:45:00.000-07:00

you call that shit Zig, you call that shit out.

2007-06-22T09:08:00.000-07:00

Things that I have learned this week:

1: My eyes are delicious. Or rather, my eye juices. Why else would no less than 4 bugs fly into my eyes this week. Twice while I was wearing glasses. Once whilst driving.
2: I love the word “whilst”
3: I should never ever attempt to use a travel mug for coffee unless it has a lid. I can manage the whole walking-and-chewing gum thing, but coffee + screen doors + man bag = coffee shower.
4: I am allergic to dust mites, but neither German nor American cockroaches. Oooooh Hopkins research opportunities.
5: The TSA will not let you bring Playdoh as a carryon. Long story.
6: Vanilla Vodka + Diet Ginger Ale is a blessedly refreshing summer beverage, and I think it should be called a Pussyfooting, in honor of Ginger Rogers/ it being perhaps the gayest drink I have ever made.

2007-06-18T09:13:00.000-07:00

Dr. BWI Long Term Parking Lot A Shuttle Driver Lady,
I love you. I love you because you are the angriest person I have ever met, including when I used to work with some of Baltimore’s finest crackhead prostitutes.
This summer I am officially handing my soul over to Southwest airlines, as wedding season and family parties send me back to the Midwest with such regularity that I am not even unpacking my little quart sized toiletries Ziploc. And as I arrived back into the warm embrace of Baltimore last night at about half past midnight, your seething, fuming anger with life kind of made me giggle. The delicate slam of the ball of your hand you lodged it into the horn brought me to you; yes, goddamn it, if that goddamn Long Term Parking Lot B shuttle would just pull up 7 goddamn feet more, you would both be in the goddamn loading zone. But the Lot B shuttle drivers never do that, do they? Nor the ESP shuttle drivers. You hate them, and I do to, because of the frustration they cause you. But I love them, because the hatred they bring forth in you travels from your heart to your feet, and subsequently the brake pads and accelerator of a very large shuttle bus. And as you drove with your hatred for the Lot B shuttle drivers, you took a few turns a bit sharp, and stopped not quite on a dime. And this meant that the obnoxiously loud Texans standing on your shuttle bus talking about how proud they are of Alberto Gonzalas crashed into each other, causing their cowboy hats to crumple into a fold. And this made me very happy.
So thank you BWI Long Term Parking Lot A Shuttle Driver Lady, I will see you next weekend, at about half past midnight. I will park in Lot A, and together we will hate those other Shuttle drivers.

2007-05-18T09:24:00.000-07:00

so i went to get my annual mandatory TB test read. i was all set to make my "so if its not TB why am i coughing up all this blood" joke, when lo and behold, the little russian man next to me pulled up his sleeve, revealing that his arm was inflamed all around the bright red raised ciricle of TB reaction. he was getting his x-ray perscription as i left.

sorry about the turbuculous, dude.

2007-04-24T12:58:00.000-07:00

Live Blogging Eating a Stale Cadbury Crème Egg

--oh gift shop, why do you have to tempt me with cheap candy? It cant be ~that~ stale right? Easter wasn’t ~that~ long ago.

--I love this shiny foil. Big surprise. My boyfriend is convinced I’m a raccoon for how much shiny things have an effect on me. That and because I root trough garbage cans for orange rinds. But whatever. Foil! How earth day. None of the mega-packaging that gum comes in nowadays.

--I have managed to unwrap all the foil in one piece without ripping. That means I win. Like with an orange rind.

--there is a seam where they fuse the chocolate….but also an impregnation hole. I wonder how the goodness is actually placed inside.

--smelllllls goooood [wow, that came in Labyrinth guy voice]

--first bite. Mostly chocolate.

--oh yeah. There it is. What the hell is this crème? Why isn’t it cream?

--third bite…..mmmmmm…crème and choc blend perfect. First hint of yoke in sight

--forth bite, ny teeth starting to feel sugar. Bit around the yolk. It still teases. My eyes are dialating and I am typing ffaster with my non choco hand.

--fifth bite, hit yolk. Gross.

Sixth bite. Getting nauseous. Why wont it stop sticking to my lips and hard pallet? God this sucks.

--it is oozing out of the shell and looks like an oyster hacked up something from its oyster lungs.

--last bite. Stomach already reeling despite the sugar rush continuing. Chocolate now feels gritty. Taking deep inhales through nose.

--dammit go down.

--dammit.

--done.

--aftertaste fortunately is mostly milk chocolate….but not entirely. I kind of want a Peep now.

2007-03-20T08:38:00.000-07:00

some dude just rounded the corner with a dead monkey on a tray from the cafeteria.

now, i KNOW the cafeteria barely washes those things to begin with, but know i am going to be thinking about the 2 foot long tail i saw hanging off of one the next time i go and get hash browns.

2007-02-22T12:45:00.000-08:00

Walking to work, as the snow and ice is finally melting away, I spotted the very first robin of spring. Growing up, my mom had always kind of thought of Punxsutawney Phil as one of the stupidest ideas of all time, yet as soon as she spotted a robin, she knew that little bird was heralding the arrival of spring. So, being an impressionable and rebellious chap, I get all giddy for both Phil and the first robin of spring.
I let out a girly little gasp and thank god no one was around, because I am sure that it put a little spring into my step. But no sooner than I began to hop along in my merry little way, I noticed a ~second~ little fluttering robin.
“Oh how delightful,” went the little voice in my head, which kind of sounds like Stewie from Family Guy as I relive this, “they must be friends…or lovers. I bet they wintered together in..”
“TWEET” the call rang out.
And at that point I noticed a third precious little robin. Then a forth still precious little robin. Then a fifth and sixth still precious but, man, you never see that many of those, little robins. The next thing I knew, I was surrounded by approximately 35-40 robins, tweeting and hopping and swooping by me. Exit Springtime, Enter Hitchcock. So the little tweeters FOLLOWED me along Tudor Arms Ave for about two whole blocks, divebombing and squawking the whole time before finally taking flight together and flying into the park.

I am not sure what this means for springtime. Not to go all Cassandra on it all, but methinks spring this year is going to be a wee bit full throttle.

2007-02-20T09:37:00.000-08:00

I rode the bus today with a slightly odd co-worker. Turns out his girlfriend has been living in Salt Lake City working as a handler and trainer for the Aviary at the zoo out there. She is supposed to be moving back to Pittsburgh later, so that should help their relationship. I encouraged him to have her move down here, as the fact that there is a Medival Times Dinner and Tournament would mean that she could be the hawk chick. Everyone loves a hawk chick, right?

Ooooh the job search. I just found out that my aunt/godmother is following her husband to South Africa for a week for business, and then sticking around for 10 weeks in Tanzania to work at an orphanage.

New little black cousin in five….four….three…two….

Actually, I am pretty jealous. In scouring the grand Baltimore world of employment opportunities, I am coming up a smidge disinterested in it all. Has anyone ever really found a job on Monster or Careerbuilder? It looks to be nothing but ads for marketing firms that don’t really exist and start-up mortgage companies. Nee dank u.

And in the Most. Exciting. News. Ever…..

https://secure1.asphostingservices.com/rocklands/index2.htm

The Live Lawrence Welk Show is fucking going to Pigeon Forge Tennessee.

That fucking means Welk in Dollywood.

I am starting to have an asthma attack at how ridiculously THE SHIT that would be as a road trip.

2007-02-09T07:29:00.000-08:00

People who owe Anna Nicole Smith flowers:

1] That astronaut chick
2] Scooter Libby
3] Anyone who owns stock in Inside Edition/Access Hollywood.

ps how do i buy stock in Inside Edition/Access Hollywood?

2006-12-12T10:27:00.000-08:00

Two and half days. That is how long my body tolerated my All Chex Mix Diet before going into revolt. I remember Margaret Cho talking about how her All Clementines Diet betrayed her in her car. Fortunately I didnt hit that level of dire, but nonetheless I think it will be a meat and potatoes night.

Today on the bus to summer nerd camp/the shuttle to work, I was asking fate to let me know how today would be. This is usally done by playing soliataire on my phone, creating a little world where I dont have to listen to undergrads screaming about protein channels and their work in Angola. Just as I was getting ready to win, which would signal a good day ahead, a spider appeared out of nowhere and tried to run up my coat sleeve. Fate, I beseach you. No spiders before the third cup of coffee, huh?

You know, I have finally come to realize that I must not know bout Beyonce like I thought I did.

2006-11-15T08:44:00.000-08:00

MMMmmmmmmmHmmm.

There is nothing like getting blatantly cruised to give your self esteem a little pep. Nothing quite like having a stranger's eyes give you the up and down. And today, as I was walking through obstetrics, I totally got cruised by a 17 year old pregnant girl who was high as a mother fucking kite, sprawled out on a chair with one of her swollen legs over the arm of the chair. I just got eye fucked as an enticement to become a new baby daddy.

Every time I start to get realllllllly sick of working here, things happen that just renew my love of Baltimore and the social nuances of the Jonny Hop. And now I’d like to shower.

2006-11-07T19:55:00.000-08:00

What you don’t want to see on a election day:

So as I was arriving at Baltimore’s beautiful Penn Station to board the train for DC, I had one of those moments you aren’t supposed to see during ‘these times’. I was getting ready to head down for the night to watch the election returns with my mega-nerd {but still my sweetiepoo} boyfriend who screams with joy for each newly elected Democrat. No, seriously. Screams. Like a momma whose baby has just been acquitted of murdering that punk ass cop.
Anyway. I had just opened the door to the station, and was walking in, when all of the sudden I saw a HUGE orange and red flash, as an exploding fireball lit up the entire station from the tracks. I immediately see train patrons scrambling and hear screams, as the security guards started flying out of their office towards the area. A huge ass German Shepard was bounding alongside a guard the size of a tank. As I naturally do when a crisis arrives, I walk right into it. Sooo I scampered along towards the crying old women and running guards, and got there just in time.
The mega explosion at a public transportation hub during an election was in fact a pigeon that flew into the overhead wires and blew up.
Alas, I was not there to document the actual encounter.

2006-10-04T13:09:00.000-07:00

When leaving the house, 'tis best not to try and balance one's keys, coffee, Eggo chocolate chip waffle, bag, and glasses, for one tends to loose ones balance, swirl, fall down the two stoop steps, and tumble into one's whiskey barrel flower pots. And who knew that one's pansies and petunias, while small, delicate, and delightfully purple, actually can be quite scratchy when smearing across one's face. and one's Eggo.

sigh.

For the second week in a row, i have run into someone in the hospital to whom i gave their positive results for HIV. I have been out of that job for 2 years, and still it manages to resurface in a way that can really throw me for a loop on a random Wednesday morning. even more so than rouge petunias.

2006-09-26T14:18:00.000-07:00

Most people have a grudge for their PO. I don’t have nearly enough cred to have an actual PO, so instead I have a research PO. Yup, that’s right. In my glamorous career of Jonny Hop Neuro Reseach, I have a parole officer desperately seeking the latest experimental medication I am shilling out. The only problem is that my PO has B.O. in a majorly throat choking way. Poor guy. 3 masters degrees, a lazy eye, and that extreme awkwardness that often accompanies 60something year old bachelor professors [enginerding, not something sexy like English] leaves him with B.O., toenails long enough to make music as he walks, and laugh somewhere between Looney Toon and extremely stoned 12 year old. I wonder if he got his stash from one of his case load.

Still beats yesterday. My patient was a biker dude from Harford County who is living with his ex-wife and told me to find him in the lobby based upon his “Santee clause beard”. The skin biopsy we perform on upper thighs turned a little stomach churning when he shared that he doesn’t believe in underwear.
I can understand not believing in leprechauns. But underwear? Believe man, believe.

He did teach me, though, that the best way to hitch hike nowadays is by walking along the road with an empty gas can. He left his up in Baltimore County, at about where the bus starts running into the city. Fingers crossed it was still there for him for his return. I wouldn’t want his ex-wife to worry.

2006-09-15T06:54:00.000-07:00

My newest favoritest invented drink: The Victoria Beckam

1 bottle Becks Light
Dash Rose's lime juice
big splash of Spiced Rum.

Its skinny Becks, a limey, and so damn posh you'll feel the need for velvet. immediately.

i am now fully addicted to Faye Dunaway's autobiography Looking For Gatsby, mostly because with every word i read, i hear her voice from the mp3 of her on the answering machine.

2006-08-31T12:26:00.000-07:00

Fun things I have seen recently:

A one armed man jogging. He had on nice running shoes, but I think he would have looked much more natural with a sword in one hand, as if he had come from battle.

A very very pregnant woman in a wheelchair having an asthma attack. As I got closer, I realized it wasn’t an asthma attack, but that she was holding a cell phone up to her mouth and making noises into it that sounded like Satan scolding his children.

A very dumpy looking 50-something year old black man in the clinic today was singing “Everything Counts” by Depeche Mode today as he was waiting for a blood draw. Somehow that made me remember that last night I dreamt that I was trying to protect my rabbits and hares imported from New Zeeland from kidnappers. I dont know why either.

2006-08-24T19:17:00.000-07:00

This, my dear Virginia, is why i need more computer skills. two.five years of having a home computer racked by virus and being too broke ass to invest in a new one sliced away at critical learning time. nothing like being locked to a work computer to link outwards to retard your abilities.
anyho. Howsbout combining two very happy memories into one happy place. Well done, gov'nah, well done.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OVGZRmK7E1Q

further proof--how the hell do you imbed a video, and is it spelt imbed? that sounds too kinkified.

2006-08-23T11:13:00.000-07:00

Seriously folks, can we loose the spiderweb tattoo on the elbow? certainly there can be scarier/tougher things to place there. How about spooky eyes? or a crop circle? or a dart board? be a tough guy and take a dart or two.

2006-08-17T12:17:00.000-07:00

have you noticed that he never has bad lighting?

what is it about Thai photographer's cameras that cast such interesting shades? the only person i have seen with more soft lighting for the camera was, well, jonbenet.

2006-08-15T13:11:00.000-07:00

So it struck me last night that there could be a source.
For the past few weeks, I have been slowly creeping towards accepting the notion that Justin Timberlake may actually have talent. I had fought this idea for a long time, and even when his solo album blew up over conceivable form of radio, and he was beloved by the gays and the thugs and the teenyboppers, I held true to my [near always correct] knee jerk reaction. But, I have been slowly letting myself accept that he may, in fact, be bringing sexy back.
But last night it hit me.
It may not be him bringing it back.

I think it is Aaliyah. I think when Aaliyah died in 2001, her soul left her body and took over Justin Timberlake.

Pudding [where the proof is, duh] :

Somehow, Justin Timberlake has R&B cred despite being in one of the most successful boy bands of all time. That shouldn’t have happened.

Aaliyah launched her career by pairing up and marrying R. Kelly, clearly like 47 years her senior, where she exploded into a bunch of megasexuality. JT basically got his solo career off the ground by first popping Britney’s cherry, then linking himself sexually to Janet Jackson [at least to her boob] and then to Cameron Diez, who is clearly 47 years older than he.

JT is now being produced by Timberland. And a bunch of other people. But they don’t help my fabulous theory. In any case, the move to darker experimental dance is the exact same Timberland path that Aaliyah was taking. Every song he has released can as easily play in my head with Aaliyah singing as it can by him.

Aaliyah played a vampire. And she moved like quite the little soul stealing siren. I don’t believe in vampires, or that she really was one. I’m just sayin.

2006-08-15T12:12:00.000-07:00

at last i heed the call.

"Come blog with us Mr. Butterworths. come blog with us forever"

wellllll, if you insist