an undone calm » Funny

Elizabethan Humor

Anne — Tue, 31 Mar 2009 21:01:05 +0000

Tracy gave me this card for my birthday two years ago, and I found it in my desk this week. Still, I believe, the funniest card I’ve ever received.

The Battle of Vera Bradley

Anne — Thu, 17 Jul 2008 11:22:40 +0000

This video is sort of long and sort of boring, but it’s a good sample of what Cheddar and Sushi do all day long. On this day they were fighting over who got to sit inside my Vera Bradley duffel bag (which for some reason, they both love).

NYC stories 1.1

Anne — Thu, 27 Mar 2008 02:51:20 +0000

some dude i was talking to in a bar was wearing a shirt that said, “music is my life”

and so i was like, “you like music??” and pointed to the shirt

and he goes “i guess. my brother gave me this shirt.”

this is season 1, entry 1 of a series about retarded things people say to me. mostly in bars.

Stamps

Anne — Wed, 25 Jul 2007 03:46:00 +0000

I found a mishmash of assorted stamps when I was unpacking recently and have since taken to employing unusual combinations on my mailed items. I like to think that people like my landlord notice when my envelope shows up with a classic 1990 style 29 cent stamp combined with a 2000 era 20 cent postcard stamp. Or that Banana Republic appreciates that my bill payment comes bearing a 5 cent Luis Munoz Marin stamp instead of the typical 2 cent add-on. Do they though? Probably not.

Lab Coat Nazi

Anne — Fri, 04 May 2007 04:03:00 +0000

Setting: 7th floor laundry. Hundreds of clean hanging lab coats organized haphazardly (no regard for size). Many coats are stained, missing buttons, pockets torn off or open. We used to have free reign in this room to get our own coats… no more.

Characters: me, newly-hired laundry staff member (aka. lab coat nazi)

Scene 1:

Me: I need a new lab coat.
Nazi: Didn’t I just give you one a few days ago?
Me: Yes, and now it’s covered in blood, poop and anal glands. I need a new one.
Nazi: What size?
Me: 38 or Small.
Nazi: (scanning aimlessly) I don’t know if i have that.
Me: Can I just look? There were a ton here last week.
Nazi: I can’t let you in here anymore.
Me: Why not?
Nazi: That’s the rules.
Me: Fine. Just give me a coat.
Nazi: (finding a Small missing two buttons) Here. You’re lucky.
Me: Thanks.

As if I should actually need to feel “lucky” for being given a defective lab coat. As if a clean lab coat is somehow a privilege and not a necessity.

Scene 2:

Me: (finding the door to laundry locked) via overhead page: Laundry to the Laundry Room.

ten minutes later….

Me: via overhead page: Laundry to the Laundry Room.

ten minutes later….

Me: (muttering) This place is ridiculous. Heads down to clinics in poopy lab coat.

Scene 3:

Me: (finding the laundry room open and unattended, rifles through the disorganized racks, finds an appropriately sized, clean, intact lab coat).
Nazi: (finding an intern in her laundry room) What are you doing in here? You can’t be in here.
Me: Why not? I need a lab coat. I’m not going to steal them. Or hoard them. Or do ANYTHING inappropriate with them.
Nazi: Tell that to my boss.
Me: Who’s your boss?
Nazi: Dxx Rxxxx
Me: (rolling eyes, sarcastic) No problem. Tell her to come find me if she has a problem with lab coats.

Needless to say, my patience is wearing thin. Particularly about things like lab coats.

I Hate You, Nike Chick

Anne — Mon, 26 Feb 2007 03:18:00 +0000

My apartment has some great features (read: flaws). You know, things like mold growing on the bathroom ceiling, no window screens, and elevators with minds of their own. By far my favorite feature is the room key. It is, in fact, not a key at all – rather it is one of those absurdly annoying plastic hotel key cards. Why is this key card so great?

it expires monthly, without warning
it won’t work if it comes in contact with any other card with a magnetic strip
if they have to make my roommate a new key (see above) mine stops working
the plastic coating peels off in a way that you can’t help but pick at
the picture on the card is a nike factory store ad (why?!)
you can see the nike chick’s nipples
only 20% of the front desk staff knows how to make new cards

Routinely the expiration or demagnetization happens when I’m carrying a million bags of groceries, when I’m late for work, or when I’m coming home from an 18 hour day. Sometimes it just sets me right over the edge of sanity.

Crapulous

Anne — Sun, 12 Mar 2006 04:31:00 +0000

I wish I’d known this word existed when I was in college.

Word of the Day for Saturday March 11, 2006

crapulous \KRAP-yuh-lus\, adjective:
1. Suffering the effects of, or derived from, or suggestive of gross intemperance, especially in drinking; as, a crapulous stomach.
2. Marked by gross intemperance, especially in drinking; as, a crapulous old reprobate.

These were the dregs of their celebratory party: the half-filled glasses, the cold beans and herring, the shouts and smells of the crapulous strangers hemming them in on every side, the dead rinsed-out April night and the rain drooling down the windows.
— T. Coraghessan Boyle, Riven Rock

The crapulous life which her future successor led.
— Lord Brougham, Historical Sketches of Statesmen in the Time of George III

The new money was spent in so much riotous living, and from end to end there settled on the country a mood of fretful, crapulous irritation.
— Stephen McKenna, Sonia

Crapulous is from Late Latin crapulosus, from Latin crapula, from Greek kraipale, drunkenness and its consequences, nausea, sickness, and headache.

Elf Rage

Anne — Fri, 23 Dec 2005 02:59:00 +0000

The lighted sign said “_ E L F _ _ _ R A G E” and given the time of year, I had to wonder…. Were those lights really out or did those self storage unit employees find a creative way to pass the time?

An observation from the land of shopping malls, manicured nails, horrible accents and ridiculous personalities – a.k.a. New Jersey. Ho ho ho.

Welcome Home Little Sock

Anne — Fri, 09 Dec 2005 00:23:00 +0000

It’s been weeks since they’ve seen each other, but today witnessed the reunion of two long lost mates.

Everyone always told them they were nothing special – just simple black ribbed trouser socks. But inside they each knew they were more than just average socks: thin enough to be worn with dress shoes, yet thick enough to keep toes cozy; they weathered the wash-dry cycles with grace and resilience.

A few weeks ago, one of them went downstairs to the laundry, and never came back. His partner waited for him on top of the dresser, she couldn’t face the rest of the socks in the sock drawer. Each day, she wondered where he’d gone. Then one day, he appeared! He was crumpled and dusty and hidden beneath the little-used ironing board, but after a run through the laundry he was as good as new. He sure did clean up nice.

But then alas, he was lost again! The couple’s caretaker searched high and low to no avail until a phone call revealed his new location. Hesitant to return to his partner, he’d hopped in a Texas-bound suitcase. But Texas proved to be warmer than he was designed for and he began to feel a sense of lack of purpose. He realized that he was nothing without his mate so when the Shrewsbury-bound envelope appeared he didn’t put up a fight.

This evening sees the happy pair, once again intertwined, each enriched with a different life story, back in the sock drawer snuggled up next to all their fellow sock-friends.

College Humor

Anne — Wed, 30 Mar 2005 05:02:00 +0000

Note: The following entry concerns immature college-type behavior. Parents, be forewarned.

I was at a party in Boston last weekend and after passing a few hours surrounded by people talking about college and playing competitive drinking games I found myself in a taxi headed back to my friends’ apartment to spend the night on their futon. This glorious Boston cab just so happened to be equipped with a spectacularly malfunctioning computer to amuse me. “UNMOUNTABLE BOOT VOLUME,” it declared.

I had to laugh. It sounded just like something a drunken college student would encounter. Having just rehashed the college vernacular of “boot and rally” or “a volume boot,” this “unmountable boot volume” conjured up some interesting images. Would that be lots of people booting? Or one person with just too much boot? Hmmm. Interesting. Frankly, I never quite understood the appeal of throwing up only to continue drinking more, but then again, I’m not much of a puker. Right. Okay, so that’s probably enough discussion of vomit for one blog entry.

In summation: It was a good weekend rounded out with a visit from a friend, yummy food, cool new sneakers, sunny days, a fun party and a champion boat race team.