What kind of seizure?

Man, has it been a while.  Not for lack of material.  No, the girlfriend's mouth keeps on keepin' on.  It's just me and my laziness.

Well, I suppose I'm going to dust this off and give it another whirl.  There's been too much quality content being produced and enough public outcry that I really do need to get back to it.

So, without further ado...

This morning, Brae and I were lying in bed going through our usual rituals of rehashing our dreams and playing with our dog.  (Oh, we got a dog since I last posted.  Senator Edward M. Kennedy.  We call him Teddy to his face.  He just turned 1.  He's awesome.  I digress.)

Brae usually delivers A material in the morning.  Something about that twilight time finds gets the mouth firing on all cylinders.  She often fires off with some truly random absurdist gems, and this morning was gold.

With an exclamatory tone somewhere between Ron Burgundy and Flo telling Mel to kiss her grits she suddenly announced "GRANDMA SEIZURE!"

After a moment of bewildered laughter she hauled off with another: "EPCOT CENTER ON THE BAYOU!"

I think these are going to replace "Christ on a Crutch!" and "Merlin's Beard!" as my go-to exclamations from here on out.  

As best as he can.

Brae and I were sitting in our apartment listening to the sound of major renovations going on in an apartment 2 floors below.

"They're really going at it," I said. "Did you see how much work they're doing? The place is completely torn apart."

Brae replied, "oh yeah, they had infestus down there."

"What?"

"Um, what is it? Infestu...."

"An infestation?"

"No, what's that stuff called? They had to remove the, uh, in..festus?"

"Oh, you mean asbestos?"

"Uh, yeah. Oh, that actually sounds nice. 'Asbestos he can!"

This requires no comment from me:

My First Retraction

I think my last post deserves a retraction of sorts. It seems that there actually is a Beastie Boys song with lyrics about buying Ale."

I, of course, was thinking of the song "Time to Get Ill" from their debut License to Ill, but "Hold it Now, Hit It" from the same album contains the line "What time is it/It's time to buy Ale."

Brae was combining the two, but this wasn't the mondegreen I thought it was and not nearly as far-fetched as most of Brae's vernacular.

In fact, she kinda schooled me.

My girl got mad flow

Brae and I were doing laundry down in the basement of our building today. I'd forgotten my watch so I asked if she knew what time it was. She shrugged and said she didn't know.

But then her eyes lit up and she said, "it's time to buy ale."

After a long blank stare I asked, "what?!"

"You know, like the Beastie Boys song: What time is it? It's time to get ale!"

Another long pause. "Honey, it's time to get ill."

Today the girlfriend and I were walking down to the river to go for a swim and she purposefully exclaimed, "I feel like Michael Jackson."

"Why is that?" I asked.

"I just do."

...fair enough.

"That's off the tank!"

Brae's summation of that some new 3D hip hop dance movie we saw advertised on TV tonight.

During lunch the other day, Brae quickly polished off her lemonade, wiped her mouth and said,

"Man, I downloaded that lemonade fast!"

Summer is finally here.

"The air-conditioning in the car doesn't work. I think it needs anti-fluid."

That's a mighty big wedgie

"I have a wedgie the size of Damascus."

The first thing I heard my girlfriend say upon waking the other day.

The other day Brae and I were talking about what we wanted done to our bodies when we died. Brae said she wanted to be taken to a crematologist.

I was giving the girlfriend her nightly leg massage. She wanted me to really get in there and work it out and she said, "Oh, yeah. That's it. Do it. Don't pussycoat it."

I wouldn't dream of pussycoating it, darling.

A text message I received from my girlfriend the other night while I was hanging out with the boys:

Sometimes when I'm down I think of Paris Hilton taking a dump.

So many hats

I'm looking for a job. On a pretty regular basis Brae sends me job listings she finds on Craigslist and elsewhere.

Recently she was looking at a job posting for an assistant to a fashion designer. Brae started laughing as she read the description of the position.

"They said they want some someone who wears many hats. Hahaha."

I looked at her blankly and said "what's funny about that?"

She said "why do they need you to wear a bunch of a hats?"

After I finally stopped laughing and explained what the metaphor meant she said grumpily "that's a stupid saying."

I laughed some more and she said, "well, I thought it would be a good job for you since you have so many hats."

Thanks, hon...

My girlfriend says to me "you haven't been jogging down things I say lately."

Well, I guess that's her way of saying I should get to it. It has been almost a week. I promise to be more regular. I do have some gems in the hopper.

In the meantime, I wanted to show you what Zach Braff does to my girlfriend. He must be stopped.

The other night I was flirting with my girlfriend, being a dork, doing some sort of hootchie-cootchie dance.

My girlfriend got excited and giggled, "oh, you're making me queagle!"

I'm pretty sure that's a good thing.

Today Brae and I were talking about phobias. She asked me what mine were and among a few others I mentioned a moderate dose of claustrophobia.

Brae replied with the upmost sincerity,

"yeah, not until recently did I realize I had a fear of clausters."

My Girlfriend's Shirt

"I can do anything you want me to do so long as I don't have to speak." -Linda Evangelista

Word of the Day

ketchy: adj. being simultaneously appealingly memorable and tasteless.

catchy+kitsch=ketchy

The name of this blog is an attempt to be ketchy.

"I think they're going to blow a casket."

Predicting a friend's reaction to some bad news.

Yet again, I think Brae has one-upped the original. I mean, it's one thing to blow a gasket...