Let's Take a Poll!

I was just having a discussion with my friend about bathroom etiquette. What's appropriate these days and what's not?

I'll tell you right now some things that get on my nerves (which I've already mentioned before, but they still bug me):

1. Cell Phone Talkers- Take.The.Convo.Outside. Everyone can tell you're in the bathroom. If the echo doesn't give it away, the flushing toilets, running water, and strained vocal chords probably do. It's gross and it makes me cringe at the thought of ever having to borrow someone else's phone.

2. Lingerers- This isn't Friday night happy hour- do your business and leave. Some of us want to get our poop on and don't want to do it when you're playing Sorority House at the soap dispenser.

3. Ghost Poopers- It's a bathroom, we all know there's going to be sound effects. Pretending like you're not there and not pooping, when you're clearly clenching buttcheeks for dear life and probably about to 'splode, doesn't help either one of us. In fact, it throws off MY evacuation process. Let's just call a truce- We both poop and never speak of it again. Okay???

This brings me to the conversation I just had...

Do you ever worry about stink following you out of a particularly unfortunate bathroom??

I always do. Especially if it's like a punch in the face when I first push the ladies room door open. I have to do a full body imaginary scrubdown when I exit the premises.

And while we're on the topic- I'd like to get to the poll part of this entry...

If someone is coming out of a stall and and it's a real fucking doozy, would you prefer to be given advance warning???

In my experience, people don't like getting advice from strangers in the toilets. But I always feel the need to give a little heads up, like "Hey buddy. You're gonna want to give that some time, if ya know whatta mean." It's polite, if you ask me. I would MUCH rather receive a warning from a stranger than receive a full blown assault on my nostrils. And actually, I would appreciate it so much (especially in particularly nasty situations), I would cry tears of joy over this act of kindness. And throw confetti streamers in the air. And probably buy them lunch too.

Am I alone on this...?
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Cheap Cheater's Chinese Dinner

First thing's first- I am OFFICIALLY AN INTERNET SENSATION!!!. How do I know? Because I googled myself. And if anyone speaks the truth, it's the Google.

So, the other day at the grocery store I decided to make some homemade Chinese food. And by homemade, I mean, home-heated.

Let's start with the ingredients, shall we?

You'll need rice. I went with this cheapo "Rapid Rice" because 1) I'm lazy, 2) I'm cheap, and 3) I don't really like rice all that much and it all taste the same to me when I put a shitload of butter on top.

Most important ingredient: Orange Chicken. This time around, I went with Crazy Cuizine. I've tried one other brand before and they both came out pretty good, but I'm going to give the upper hand to Crazy Cuizine because I like their gusto in the spelling department.

And lastly, you'll need a vegetable because that's how real Chinese people do it. I went with broccoli because it seems very Asiany. Also, because it was the only vegetable in the house.

So here's how the chicken works. First you have to thaw the little pouch of orange glaze under warm running water. Once you've racked up an extra $25 on your water bill, place the glaze aside and save for later. In a pan with oil, cook up them chickens for 12-15 minutes. I tend to cook on the longer side of directions because I'm always worried about catching the salmonellas. Last step, get your orange glaze on.

Try to start the broccoli at the same time as your chicken. Put, like, two cups of water in a pan with a lid, and steam those badboys for about 15 minutes. I don't have any exact numbers on this one because I'm a total pro and know these things just by looking at them. I mean, I knew just by looking at the broccoli my mom was cooking that it was totally ready to eat.

When you have like two minutes left on your chickens, get your rice-a-cookin. Now, I may lose you on these directions, so I'll try to keep it simple.

Tear the tab off the top of the Rapid Rice. Place in microwave for 1.5 minutes (or however long it takes).

. . . . .

Dinner is served.

Aaaaaaaand scene.

Boner'Ppetite, my friends.
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Celebration or Suicidez...?

I just ate $10 worth of buttered, salted pretzel (avec cheeses) and various cookies for lunch.

Celebration or Suicidez???

I'm going with celebration.

Right after I take a nap, that is...
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Reunions Aplenty!

I'm warning you now friends, this is going to be a biggie (cue the endless photo montage). This is the 15lb 8 oz, bouncing baby blog I've been putting off for a week now because I have so much to say and not nearly enough brain power to make it pass for comprehensible English. With that said, let's get the show on the road.

Last weekend was filled with reunions of all sorts...

And by family reunion, I mean we see each other alllllll the time, but this time it was an official "Ughhhh, OK, we can all meet in a public place, sit, and have a meal together, I guesssssss."

We met at Claim Jumper. When my sister Tanya arrived, I asked her to take a picture of me and Motherdear. I also asked her to crop out her grubby kids (who happened to be swarming all around Mom). This is the pic she took.

(You can choose your friends, but you can't choose your family, I believe is the saying...)

I caved and let those street urchins join my picture.

TILTE: "Mom, show me Jazz Hands."
Motherdear: :::wiggling arthritic fingers:::

TILTE avec niece/ nephews, minus Hogan.

I only got one pic of Tanya, which she quickly vetoed. And I forgot to get a picture of Liz, which is unfortunate since she was the one who planned this whole thing. And since I didn't get those two broads, there was no point in posting a picture of Chris. Oh well. Better luck next time, family.

I wasn't feeling too hot on this excursion, so my food choices were pretty grim. We started with an appetizer sampler platter and the hot pretzels. (Note: the pretzel is where the MONEY.IS.AT.)

For my main dish, I ordered the potato soup. I was not impressed and I would not write home about it and in fact, I'm not even going to post a picture of it. What a fucking waste of a potato, Claim Jumper... I'm going to give the old CL one out of five chins. The pretzel was pretty dreamy, but the rest of the food just insulted my palette.

So, waaaaaay back in 2005, I lived on campus at my university. I was placed in an apartment with Courtney, Katie, and Liana.

Liana- A girly girl. Cameron Diaz lookalike. Shabby chic. Nicest person ever.

Katie- Tomboy hidden behind a cute girl's face/ body. Rough and tumble. Up for anything. Vegetarian.

Courtney- Cross between rockabilly/ Southern Belle. Sticks to her guns. Obsessed with The Little Mermaid. Vegetarian.

TILTE- (this is based on their description of their first impression of me) Militant lesbo. Art snob. Tortured soul. Butterholic.

(What the fuck........?)

None of us knew each other before moving in and probably would have never become friends. Our living situation turned out to be one of the best friendships ever.

The four of us haven't been together since we moved out, so this was a big fucking exciting deal. Katie flew down from Oregon (and boy, were her arms tired!) just for this magical weekend.

We started out at Cafe Fiore to get our pig on.

We made sure to fill up a good portion of our chins and bellies with the complimentary bread and marinara (the combo tastes just like you're eating pizza, swearsies) while maximizing cheap drunkeness by downing most of our drinks on empty stomachs (like any classy lady would do).

(White Sangria = Toooootally worth it)

Like a kid on Christmas morning, I always zone the fuck out and get hearts in my eyes as soon as my food arrives and 99% of the time don't remember to take a pic of it. And next thing you know, there's nothing but sauce and crumbs left. Well, this isn't really much of an exception.

Courtney and I shared some kind of fancy salad with walnuts and unattractive cheese, Liana ordered a chicken Caesar, and Katie ordered a pasta thingie. We decided to go for the gold and ordered a Creme Brulee to share ("to share" because we're on a diet, you see).

"Ladies... Your creme brulee. Enjoy."

:::om nom nom:::

Sidenote: Our waiter suuuuucked and unfortunately, I didn't get his name. If you try this place out, ask to be seated in Seamus' section. He's excellent. TILTE'S overall bill for Fiore: $38.

Ok, so this is when the highlight of the night took place. Katie and I went to the ladies room together. With the first stall Katie opened, she loudly announced "Ew- there's a POOP in there!", which automatically sent me into a giggle-downward-spiral. After we took care of business, Katie had already washed her hands and was waiting at the door to leave the restroom. While she was standing in the doorway, she lit up a big ol' gnarls barkley fart. I died laughing (like I totally am right now again) and in the process, accidentally pulled my ring off my finger when I was paper toweling my hands, and tossed it in the trash. All the paper towels immediately blended together and turned into one giant mess like those stupid posters that were big in the 90's that you'd have to look at for a long time before you'd see a mysterious object, like Bob Marley or something. I had to dump out the whole trash, kneel on the floor... And sift through strangers' paper towel shreds... And even a dirty diaper...

I would like to say this was the lowest point in my life, but I'm pretty sure we all know I've had lower.

From Fiore, we all headed over to El Rey and met up with some more friends. El Rey is still pretty new to the area, but so far I've NEVER been let down by this place. It's small and always happening. The bartenders are friendly, they have solid DJ's (Note: DJ means anyone with a Mac), and strong drinks. If you try this place out, go with the alcoholic Horchata. It's not the BEEEEST drink I've ever had, but any drink based on Horchata is definitely worth a shot. TILTE'S overall bill at El Rey: $10.

I ended the night by strapping on the old feedbag again- this time with pizza from Jimmy's Slice. As any drinker worth their salt knows, you need to 1) drink one water per alcoholic beverage, and 2) stock up on shitty food right before you go to sleep. TILTE's overall bill at Jimmy's: $3.

Highlight #2 of the night: Four or five days later, Liana texted me that while I was dancing my pants off, I had also been knocking her tooth out. Apparently, I was cutting le rug and happened to knock Liana's beer bottle into her teeth, chipping one of her front two. Thankfully, her beautiful visage still in tact and the chip was so minor, it had already smoothed itself out. (Sorry about that Liana. I can totes recommend a great dentist, if you happen to be looking for one...)

The next morning, we headed over to Alison's Country Cafe to continue the pigoutfest. They have a big menu, and trust me when I say this, THERE.IS.NO.WRONG.CHOICE. Every meal (at least as far as breakfasts go) is served with their fresh raspberry jam that is TO.DIE.FOR. (Do you see my extensive usage of all caps??? THAT'S.HOW.GOOD.IT.IS.)

I ordered Jeff's Favorite- scrambled eggs, sausage patties, country potatoes with cheese on top, wheat toast, and an orange juice. I am fucking drooling just typing this... Overall bill at Alison's: $16...? (total guess.)

Hope your weekend was a great as mine! (I'm sure it wasn't anywhere close, so let's stop pretending.)

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Magician's Assistant

I know. I'm totally falling behind again. I'm a shitty friend, I'm never there when you need me, etc. But on the bright side, I got REALLY great deals on face cream, foot scrub and TWO shower gels at TJ Maxx today!!! Every cloud has a silver lining, right...?

I have an entry all lined up, but I just can't get myself to get to work on it. In lieu of this imaginary blog baby, I'm going to give you a recycled blog entry I wrote on my MySpace wall (shock, I know, MySpace??? Wtf is that???) back in June of '08.

Picture it, Sicily, 1928...

Keith and I decided to take our 20th holiday this month and go to Vegas again. We were fooled into thinking the Luxor is a nice hotel because the casino plays dance music that makes me want to wiggle and "stars" like Audrina from The Hills have their birthday parties there. Our room sucked and this is why: The window had greasy forehead prints on it, there was no full length mirror, and the 85 thread-count bedspread had a print that looked like Egyptian Where's Waldo.

(This is Audrina, not TILTE. I know, people make that mistake ALLLLLL the time. It's ridiculous, really.)

Other than the room, we actually had a really good time. We went to see the shark reef at Mandalay Bay and now I want to own a giant swimming turtle. We also went to the Titanic exhibit, which was totally fabulous. Despite it not having a cheezy photo opp for Keith to hold on to me as a lean out over a fake ocean, it was definitely something I would recommend going to. It had lots of cool photos, recreated ship rooms, and explained some really interesting stuff like the differences between the passenger classes. Most interesting fact at the exhibit: Most of the people who died from the Titanic crash actually died from freezing to death, not drowing. I want to become a Titanic aficionado.

The best part of the whole trip was Penn and Teller. Do you know who Penn and Teller are? They're the best magicians in the world because they don't try to wine and dine you with magic wands or clouds of smoke or Affliction t-shirts or goatees from 1994. Instead, they tell you exaaaaactly how they're going to trick you. AND.THEN.THEY.TRICK.YOU. And even then, it's still amazing. The highlight of the show was when Penn came down into the audience to pick an assistant from the crowd. Being the suave and sophisticated babe I am, Penn naturally fell in love with me and took me on stage to be the girl-who-stands-in-front-of-a-wall-while-magician-throws-daggers. I could see exactly what they were doing, but still, it was pretty radical that I was selected to be a magician's assistant in Vegas. And by I could see exactly what they were doing, I mean I shit my pants the second Penn made eye contact with me.

I have to admit, I was pretty fucking nervous when he stood me up against the painted female silouette on the wall... -Because she just happened to have one arm positioned up over her head... And I just happened to have the sweatiest armpits on the face of the planet. I thought my drippy pits were going to make both Penn and Teller do a vanishing act fosho. Luckily, Keith told me afterwards you couldn't see anything. After the whole show finished, I took a picture with P&T in the foyer and audience members kept coming up and telling me I did a great job. -Which probably means they could tell I looked nervous as hell. It doesn't really matter... I'm still a celeb and I'll be signing autographs after this blog is posted.

(Teller totes wanted to adopt me. I could tell.)

(Penn totes wanted to marry me. I could tell.)

You are friends with a bonerfied celebrity.

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