Thursday, April 30, 2009

Oh bother. Pooh no likey swine.

Dirty feline talk

So my cat, Hermione, has a boyfriend. But he's online, Twitter specifically. So we don't know if he's actually as attractive as his picture makes him out to be. But he sure is a sweet-talker. Apparently, he's a "ladies man" (or "kitties man") so I advised her to be weary, but she's not listening. He has wooed her and there's no turning back.

His name is Sir Freddie Elvis. And he dresses like a pirate.

When they first met, he wore a black bandana with a skull on it, a gold hoop earring and an eye patch. Which I think had a lot to do with the initial attraction. Hermione has always gone for that hoop earring, tough guy, sword-fighting type. But now he's switched to a more subdued "do me" look, which I think is turning her off a bit.

However, because he's got a British accent and says "arrrr mate-y" a lot, she's trying to see past his new-found wimpiness. Here are some of his tweets to her (I have to keep tabs on her Twitter account or it gets a bit out of hand):


Please take note of MadStoneDog's mean remarks to her. Meanie.

And because Sir Freddie Elvis has changed his look, here are some others whom Hermione will be seeking out for potential lovin':






Have a good Thursday, mate-y!

Wednesday, April 29, 2009

This is only a test.

The Center for Disease Control has issued a medical alert about a highly
contagious, potentially dangerous virus that is transmitted orally, by
hand, and even electronically.  This virus is called Weekly Overload
Recreational Killer (WORK).  If you receive WORK from your boss, any of
your colleagues or anyone else via any means whatsoever - DO NOT TOUCH
IT!!!  This virus will wipe out your private life entirely.  If you
should come into contact with WORK you should immediately leave the
premises. 
 
Take two good friends to the nearest liquor store and purchase one or
both of the antidotes - Work Isolating Neutralizer Extract (WINE) and
Bothersome Employer Elimination Rebooter (BEER).  Take the antidote
repeatedly until WORK has been completely eliminated from your system. 
You should immediately forward this medical alert to five friends.  If
you do not have five friends, you have already been infected and WORK is
controlling your life. 

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

Great invention of the day...

I am so in love with this, I can't even tell you.

It's hot here in New York City. Like, *BALLS* hot.

Friday, April 24, 2009

Butt crack: the movie. $5 entry.

Oh, do I have a Friday treat for you!!!

Before you even ask.... Yes. I took this picture. While at the gym. With my iPhone.

This guy is a repeat offender. And yet he continues to let it hang out.

And therefore he deserves to be photographed and then posted all over the Web like a moron.

Notice no one is next to him, as they fear being associated with the "butt crack bandit."

I mean how hard is it to just securely arrange the elastic band of your $10 Target gym shorts above the line where your butt crack shows? Seriously? Don't you feel the wind whipping in and out of there like it's the Grand Canyon? My personal trainer told me that if I went up to him and told him that his butthole was practically showing that she'd give me a free session. Instead, I documented it through photography. While I didn't get a free training session, I did get to share it with you all. Where are my props?

Butt crack guy: if you are reading this, pull up your damn pants! No one wants to look at this:



PS - what is he watching? I didn't know that the gym shows porn! Sah-weet!

Thursday, April 23, 2009

Do you want to bite meh?

How great is that term, "meh"? It's the perfect way to describe something as being completely unexciting, generally boring, flacid even in terms of conversational depth. Urban Dictionary describes it as "the verbal equivalent of the shrug of the shoulders."

Well said.

It even appeared in an episode of The Simpsons:

Homer: Kids, how would you like to go... to Blockoland!
Bart & Lisa: Meh.
Homer: But the TV. gave the impression that--
Bart: We said "meh".
Lisa: M-E-H. Meh.

Meh can also be used in LOLcat language in replace of the word "me". For example:


****************************
I used to think that the greatest invention in the world was Post-Its. But label makers are by far better.

The other day I was in the conference room at work, in the middle of an important meeting, and I looked down at the table to write something in my notebook, and there was a label stuck to the table that read:

F U C K E R

I've also tossed around the idea of making labels that say things like "whore by night", "I like barbecued babies", and "Democrat killer" and then sticking them on the backs of strangers.


*****************************

Lastly, how sad is it when a favorite pair of shoes become stinky? It sucks! I am just nearing the end of the life of a favorite pair of Winter shoes. By "Winter shoes" I mean a pair that is closed toe and only appropriate when it's not warm outside. I also own many pairs of Summer shoes, meaning those that are sandal-like in nature, or generally open-toed. But anyway, these shoes have been worn so much over the last year that they are officially worn out and smell like a good piece of aged Wisconsin blue cheese.


R.I.P. favorite Winter Shoes!

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

Funny Shit Wednesday

***Disclaimer: The last picture in this post is SERIOUSLY disturbing. And not at all funny. Proceed at your own risk.


These "cat butt earrings" can be purchased here.


This is totally me. Hypochondria + dry skin = panic attack.



And here's the reason for my disclaimer:


This is really not funny at all. And I pray *TO GOD* that this is photoshopped.

Ok, ok. I know, that was mean to make you look at something that scary. My bad. Here is a little sumthin-sumthin to cheer you up. It's one of my favorite commercials.

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

You can kiss my square ass

Speaking of butts, does no one else think this is the greatest commercial to hit the air in a long time?



I don't get all this crap about parents thinking that Burger King is using sex to sell kids' meals and burgers. *AND* they're pissed off at Nickalodeon for allowing Burger King to use the Sponge Bob character in their commercial in this manner. Whatever. It's hysterical. It's funny. And it's targeting parents of young kids and touching on a song that is nostalgic to them.

Well done, Burger King, well done.

And let me leave you with this, on a Happy-Tuesday-I-Might-Be-A-Lesbian-Day. This commercial makes me want to swing the other day. So well done to you, too, Carl Jr.

The lesson of the day? Burgers + Sex sells.

Monday, April 20, 2009

Do my mud flaps look fat?

If you've ever seen the movie Spinal Tap, you know it's completely out there and funny as hell. It's a satire about a rock band that thinks they are hotter than shit. The tagline for the move is "Does for rock and roll what "The Sound of Music" did for hills." I mean, seriously?

Anyway, there's this one song in the movie called "Big Bottoms". My Hubs goes through phases where he sings the lyrics to the song over and over again. This is what he sings:

The bigger the cushion, the sweeter the pushin'
That's what I said
The looser the waistband, the deeper the quicksand
Or so I have read

My baby fits me like a flesh tuxedo
I'd like to sink her with my pink torpedo

Big bottom, big bottom
Talk about bum cakes, my girl's got 'em
Big bottom drive me out of my mind
How could I leave this behind?

I met her on Monday, 'twas my lucky bun day
You know what I mean
I love her each weekday, each velvety cheek day
You know what I mean

My love gun's loaded and she's in my sights
Big game is waiting there inside her tights, yeah

Big bottom, big bottom
Talk about mud flaps, my girl's got 'em
Big bottom drive me out of my mind
How could I leave this behind?

My baby fits me like a flesh tuxedo
I'd like to sink her with my pink torpedo

Big bottom, big bottom
Talk about bum cakes, my girl's got 'em
Big bottom drive me out of my mind
How could I leave this behind?


Recently, in a car ride back from New Jersey on Easter Sunday, we started to argue about what "mud flaps" actually are. The Hubs was like, "it's just a big butt." And I was all, "No way, dude. Mud flaps are like saddle bags, like when the part where your thigh and butt meet is really huge." Nevertheless, we came to an agreement when we saw a lady walking down the sidewalk who *clearly* had mud flaps. This is what I think she would have looked like in a bikini. I guess we were both right.


Happy Monday!

Friday, April 17, 2009

Calling all Starbucks whores. And other crap.

You know you're a Starbucks Whore when the barista at your local 'bucks noticed that you got a haircut (and it was only a trim).

This is another one of my "random thoughts and crap" posts. So hang onto your seats folks.

As much as this Consumer Whore stamp is funny, it hits a little close to home. I perpetually have a 'bucks in my hand. I am perpetually on my iPhone (checking email, not talking). I used to have a belly ring. I wish I had a princess crown to wear around. And I walk around with my breasts hanging out all the time.

This morning I saw a random man's dick. I was on my way to work, enjoying the sun and hopeful for a warm day expected to be in the 70's. I look to my right and *WHAM* penis in my face. A man has it just hanging out there, inspecting himself. I'm not sure what he was looking for, but it can't be good. What a great start to my day.

Why does the subway never come when you really need it to? If I'm running late for work: takes like 15 minutes. If I'm casually headed downtown to go shopping: it's practically waiting for me to get there.

Back to Starbucks. Do you ever wonder who does the chalkboard drawings? I very often find myself baffled by this. No matter which location I visit, they drawings are all in the same style and extremely well done. And it's clearly actual chalk on a chalkboard because you can see the old drawings by the faint lines that didn't erase all the way. Here is my conclusion: every city employs it's own "Starbucks chalk drawer" and that person maintains all of the chalkboards for their region. It's the only possibility. Either that, or Starbucks has strict artistic requirements when hiring baristas.

Does anyone else think that Tripp is the dumbest name that Sarah Palin's 17-year old daughter could have chose for her son? I mean, seriously?

If you're really bored at work, here is a great pastime.

Did you see Casino Royale? Well, if you've been a longtime reader of SassyTwoSocks, then you've heard me talk about it before because I would leave my husband for Daniel Craig (just kidding, baby). Well, in the opening scene of the movie there is a great scene where Bond goes on the crazy chase after a guy who is doing what is called "parkour". It originated in France and is basically about crazy people who aren't afraid of dying. But since the movie, it's become a global phenomenom, particularly among teenagers. But know this: parkour is not for everybody. It's only for idiots. But damn, it does give me great blog material:

Tuesday, April 7, 2009

Unemployment caused my gimp [alternate title: why I could talk about saggy calf muscles all day long]

You may be wondering how a 2-week unemployment stint could cause me a potentially fatal leg injury? And you may be wondering how my tendency to wear heels no less than 4" high is related to this? And you may be wondering how my height has anything to do with this? And you may be wondering why I'm continuing to write in vague open-ended questions?

Ok, the fatal part is a lie. But I did incur a leg injury that has been somewhat of a nuisance.

It started like this. I am short. 5'2.5" to be exact. Though I usually round to 5'3" when telling people how tall I am. Because of this, I like to wear high heels every day. It's become somewhat of joke to my friends and family. And I often get comments like, "How the hell do you walk in those all day?" or "How did you just manage to run across the street in those strappy 5" stilettos?" Well, the answer is that I'm extremely skilled in the balance department--- which I suspect has something to do with the fact that my center of gravity is so close to the ground. So, the short story is, I wear heels all the time unless I'm exercising (sneakers) or just popping out to the grocery store on a weekend (Uggs).

Because I very rarely wear flat shoes, I have somewhat underdeveloped calf muscles. Now you may be picturing saggy calves that looks something like an old lady's saggy bicept (ew). But I assure you, my lack of calf muscles is not visibly pronounced. So during my unemployment period, two factors really contributed to my injury:

1 - I found myself uninterested in impressing anyone and wore my Uggs everywhere for the entire two weeks.

2 - I was in no real hurry to get anywhere as I had nowhere to be.

So I hoofed it around Manhattan in my Uggs every day, taking the subway, walking miles at a time, and not looking very impressive in the process.

Then one day I was at the gym and all of a sudden my calf muscles were cramping up. One shin splint was even aching for no obvious reason. So I got off the elliptical machine and gimped it home. For days on end, I iced, stretched and rested my poor calf muscles, and yet they still wanted to tighten up on me and make my life difficult. At first I didn't understand why. Then a trainer at the gym asked me, "are you walking around more than usual?" And a lightbulb went off: flats + lots of walking = said injury. This is why these people are trainers, my beloved bloggy-friends.

So, as excited as I was to find out why my calves were in distress, it didn't change anything. I decided I wouldnt' let my puny leg muscles get the best of me and went to the gym anyway. I just stretched them like mutha effers every day and kept the impact low. Today was my first day back in the swing of things, after three weeks of misery, and it felt great.

The moral of the story: there is such a thing as wimpy calves, and I didn't learn my lesson. I still wear heels every day, and will probably need bunion surgury by the time I'm 35.

Thursday, April 2, 2009

My new office is pimpin', yo!

So I'm nearly settled into my new work life and my new office. First of all, I love my job. Granted it's only Day 7, but how many people can say that? Second, I'm trying to pimp out my new office gansta-style.

I'm lucky enough to have my new office in Soho, at Broadway and Houston. If you've ever been to this neighborhood, you know what I'm talking about. Beautiful buildings, beautiful people, coffee shops and high-end shops on every corner. The only downside is that it seems that everyone down here smokes. I swear if one more person blows second-hand smoke into my face on the sidewalk I WILL PUNCH THEM IN THE BACK OF THE HEAD!!! Ok, back to happy stuff. So being in Soho, we're in a loft. With 25-ft ceilings, shiny wood floors and big windows that let the sunshine in all day long.

However, my office has no windows and it's at the back of the office, away from the sunlight. However, because it's a loft space I still get a lot of natural light and my desk is situated so I'm looking out the door and out the windows. So no complaints from me. But I have to admit, I'm a bit of an office diva. I like my things "just so". I want all of my office supplies at hand, everything to be organized, an extra chair in my office for visitors and my own printer. I also have ordered a bit of artwork for my walls, a mini-fridge (so I don't have to content with the overfull fridge my co-workers use) and a rug to put my feet on when they get tired. Today I got my whiteboard so I can keep track of what I'm working on and schedule my days out in advance.

I'm pretty psyched about it. I love my office and how it's turning out. It's welcoming and looks like someone uses it. I think some people think that office decoration is a waste of time and money---that it doesn't really matter what is around you and that you should just put your head down and work. But I disagree. I spend a lot of time in my office. I try to get here early and I stay late most nights. I want to enjoy being in it, for it to be comfortable and for others to feel that it is welcoming. So POO ON YOU people who think it's a waste of time and money! That's my two cents.

Here are some pics for your viewing pleasure:

Here is the view from my desk. It was taken at 6pm at night so you don't get the full view of what it looks like when the sun is shining in...


Here is my desk, where I sit my of the day and crunch numbers, spreadsheet in Excel, and general look busy...


Here is my new pillow. Isn't Mr. Parrot cute? He gives my back support...


And this is my robot picture. His name is Parker.


Lastly, the pic at the top of my post is of one of my new pieces of artwork. It's actually from Home Depot... and it was cheap!

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

A subway ride full of crotches

As a New Yorker, I take the subway *a lot*. And all too often I find myself staring at men's crotches. I can't help it. I don't want to look. They're just there.

Know this, gentlemen: I get no enjoyment from my crotch-ogling escapades.

There are several factors that create a bountiful crotch viewing environment on the subway:

1 - Women, myself included, tend to opt for seating on the subway if they can find any. Usually we are carrying heavy bags or are wearing high heels and want a brief rest. Men, on the other hand, tend to enjoy standing. Therefore, we're eye level with the crotches.

2 - There isn't much to look at on the subway if you don't have a newspaper or book. After about two stops, you've read every advertisement in the subway car, and have already exhausted yourself of trying to look busy on your mobile phone. So you find your eye wandering, looking for anything ANYTHING that is more interesting than re-reading ads for hammertoe and bunion removal.

3 - They're crotches! And they're in your face. How can you *NOT* look????

I'm torn in this web of crotchfulness and I can't seem to get out....