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1.28.2004
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you know you want me to be your boss
hello, potential future employee. are you well-versed in online community? do you know a little something about web design and/or have some writing skills? do you know anything about usability? marketing and promotions? are you obsessively organized to make up for my organizational shortcomings? are you wicked down with the teen lingo...are you hella cool? can you handle working with seriously/chronically ill kids who are pretty awesome? are you living in the los angeles area? are you willing to work for cheap for a nonprofit? are you willing to let me boss you around and maybe even bring me coffee sometimes?
if you answered yes to MOST of these questions or know of someone who would answer yes to most of these questions, please please please i beg you to please email me. i'm stressed out and if i don't hire someone soon this blog of mine will suffer from even less frequent updates and that would make jason very sad. so...anyone?
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1.23.2004
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copper crime stopper
once, at the ripe old age of 20, my roommate and i decided to leave our front porch, walk across the street, and go to a frat party. she had one beer in her hand. it wasn't open. less than half a block away, we saw two guys carrying a cooler full of beer. they were each also carrying one beer a piece. their beers were open. they were chugging. then we saw the cop. my roommate handed her unopened beer to a guy standing near us who was 22. the cop said, over a loud speaker of some sort, "take back the beer." then he shined a spotlight on us. the guys with the open beers and coolers were long gone. in fact, everyone was long gone except for me, my roommate and the 22 year old guy holding the beer.
"what beer?" she said. i mean, she was no longer holding a beer, so why should she have to start holding one now?
"TAKE BACK THE BEER!" i'm not sure what it is about southern accents, but they make me giggle, especially when used by so-called authority figures. it sounded sort of like he was saying "ta-yuk ba-yuk the bee-yur!" you know, come on...that's funny. so i laughed. and then my roommate laughed. and then the 22 year old holding the beer sorta laughed, too.
the cop from missouri was not amused. he dropped his bull-horn thingy and brandished his weapon and started walking towards us. we tried our hardest to stop laughing, but you know...the three of us were in the spotlight with a weapon drawn on us over ONE beer. singular. lite, even. it was really, really hard to get serious.
hard to get serious, that is, until the cop pulled some crazy-ass police maneuver on my roommate and slammed her up against the side of his patrol car. really, really hard. and held her there. he was pushing against her back, holding her against the car with both her arms pinned behind her body. i'm sure his dick was rock hard. this was a pretty hot girl who stood at 5'8" and weighed about 110 pounds. and here he was, dominating the shit out of her.
so...long story short: she spent the better part of the night in jail, the three of us filed complaints against the officer, the officer was suspended and eventually demoted. he's probably still beating the crap out of his wife to this day to make up for lost time.
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now go read rebecca's cop story from last night. then explain to me why it is that cops never seem to accurately size up a situation immediately upon arriving on the scene and always seem to end up making giant asses of themselves. what part of ONE beer automatically turns 3 regular people into dangerous criminals? what part of heads wrapped in toilet paper and a grown man under a blanket makes a group of 20-somethings into evil kidnappers?
let's hear it for mandatory IQ testing and/or bachelor degrees for all officers of the law effective immediately!
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1.22.2004
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college 101
it's official, i'm a college student again. i'm taking an advertising night class through the pasadena art center. the class takes place at ddb, which is in the very famous frank gehry binocular building in venice. in addition to establishing myself as teacher's pet as early as possible, other items on my back-to-school to-do list include:
- buy books
- do homework
- stop sleeping
- dye my hair
- start wearing all black
- try pot and/or other recreational drugs
- explore bisexuality
- and maybe, just maybe, stop believing in god
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1.21.2004
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an idea
a friend pointed out to me recently that photo blogs are currently being referred to as p-blogs. whoever came up with this moniker is retarded. hello? do you realize that the first thing that comes to any normal english-speaker's mind when they hear p-blog is "pee-blog"? do we really want our photo blogs to be drenched (ha!) with this ill-notion? absolutely not!
therefore, he suggested we begin to call them phlogs. that's right...photo logs. phlogs. it's way better than p-blogs and it opens up a whole new business model for blogger...phlogger! pure brilliance.
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1.19.2004
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proposals
"he's only nervous because he's fat."
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1.14.2004
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self service abuse stations
i remember when i was a kid there was a kid i knew whose mom used to always say, "come over here so i can smack you." and he did. he would shrug his shoulders, hang his head in shame and slowly walk over to his mother where she did, indeed, always smack him. usually upside the head, but sometimes a big ol' wallop to the ass.
i always wondered about this kid. i mean, did he have no sense of self? was he such a sucker that each time his mother said this to him, he thought that this time, maybe she was just joking and wouldn't actually hit him? was he just beaten into submission? maybe he was catholic and figured that he could absolve himself of guilt with one measily spanking?
being a non-catholic heathen smartass, i always figured a similar conversation with my mom would be something along the lines of:
"dana jean, get your ass over here so i can spank it."
"hahahahaha yeah right, as if i'm that stupid. why don't you come over here and spank it?"
"i'm not kidding, get your ass over here so i can spank it."
"yeah ok...i'll be riiiiight over. hahahahahaha...NOT!"
i wish i could remember this kid's name because based on our history of handling abusive situations, i'll bet he's looking for a good ass-kicking right about now and maybe i'm just the perfect domineering bitch to administer it.
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1.13.2004
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the best of dana according to dana
i'm feeling nostalgic so today i'm providing you with a list of links (in no particular order) to things i wrote a million trillion days ago that i think you should read if you haven't already:
flat ass syndrome
meat: taste it again for the 1st time
who's your daddy?
sleazey sexy
monsters scare me
please your lady
by popular demand
enjoy.
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1.8.2004
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vocab rehab
goodwill humping: when someone incredibly good looking (such as myself or my aforementioned Hot Doctor) sleeps with someone out of pity because that someone is incredibly bad looking, incredibly desperate, matt damon and/or ben affleck.
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1.7.2004
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hot gyno love
i have an extremely hot doctor. when i left my reliably unattractive doctor in dc and headed for los angeles, i wasn't sure how i was going to find a suitable replacement. the unfortunate looking doctor was smart, concise, helpful and totally not hot. there was never an awkward moment between me and the good doctor, because ugly guys can't make me blush. no matter how hard they try. ever.
so i got to los angeles and put off the chore of finding a new general practitioner. i knew i had to do it for prescription purposes, but i procrastinated as long as was healthy. finally one day my friend gina and i were talking about our thyroid issues and she told me about her super hot doctor. "one time he complimented me on my shoes and i blushed, giggled like a school girl and choked on my own spit," she told me. that seemed to suggest that he was pretty fucking hot, so i got his card and called his office the very next day.
so started my unrequited love affair with my extremely good looking doctor.
one day i made an appointment to see Hot Doctor about a strange pain in my boob. i'm pretty sure my boobs were on my side in this particular situation, inventing the temporary though intense pain so that he'd be forced to feel me up. and then while he was feeling me up, he would inevitably look up, gaze into my big, brown eyes and fall madly in love with me and my aching tits. or...he would be extremely awkward and nervous and never for one second let my hospital gown actually expose any part of my supple breasts to his line of vision. you know, whatever.
a few minutes after we got to second base, Hot Doctor asked me who i was seeing for my general gynecological needs. convinced that it would make him insane with jealousy, i told him i had a lady. he told me he specialized in ob/gyn stuff and offered up his services. i'm pretty sure it was a come-on, but i thanked him in a civilized way, we finished up the exam, and i ran home to vigorously masturbate for the next 24 hours straight. i told my friend gina about his overt flirtations and she said, "yeah, he told me he was a pro-gyno, too, but i told him he was too hot for the job."
over the next few months, i began to recommend my hot doctor to my female coworkers. 3 or 4 of them started to see him, and i found myself feeling vaguely jealous regarding his divided attention. recently, one of them even came back to the office from an appointment and said, "the hot doctor just gave me a great pap."
before that, i'd always taken the good ol' gina-route and assumed that he was simply too hot for the speculum. but today...well, today is a new day. i'm almost due for my next ob/gyn appointment, and my old lady is no longer seeing patients. so i've decided that it's time to call Hot Doctor on behalf of my vagina.
"hello, doctor's office..."
"hi, this is dana robinson, calling on behalf of dana robinson's vagina. i'd like to make a date with Hot Doctor please. i was thinking dinner, drinks and a movie followed by stirrups, ky jelly and a pelvic exam. is he available?"
"oh dana, it's so great that you called. the hot doctor's been anxiously waiting to hear from you regarding your vagina. does tomorrow night at 8pm work for you both?"
oh, it works, alright. it works reeeeaaaal good. i wonder what i should wear...
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1.5.2004
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the shit hit the drain?
so the other day i was listening to some mid-morning talk radio and the djs were discussing colonics and enemas and other things involving the unnatural removal of crap (up to 20 pounds, i hear!) from one's colon and lower intestinal area. the process is supposedly quick, painless, odorless whew!) and totally not mortifying at all (riiiiight...)
so the girl dj says she's gung-ho on the colonic tip and asks the listeners to call up with the names and numbers of some of the more recommended de-poopers. you know, the guys who actually perform this supposedly not-at-all embarassing procedure where a tube is shoved up your ass, water forced inside, then sucked back out the same tube and into some unknown location never to be see again. the two guy djs immediately reneg her request, saying that this is definitely a more discreet and private quest and please god do not call in with doctor recommendations.
the girl is confused. "how on earth do i go about finding a good person for the job?" she pondered. "it's sort of like an abortion," they retorted, "as a woman, you just know who to call, where to go, and how to go about getting it done." clearly there's a snappy comeback here, but she fails to deliver. instead she just points out that while she does know where to get an abortion, she does not know where to get a colonic and once again requests callers to call in.
while i couldn't stand to listen to another minute of this conversation on the radio, i couldn't stop thinking about all the poo in my pooper. and the weight loss benefits. and what must be the extremely fresh feeling that one experiences post-cleanse. and then a few days down the line, i even started to think about the similarities between colonics and abortions, if you must know the truth.
i mean, seriously...let's think about it. a tube is shoved into a very intimate part of one's body. some liquidy stuff is swished on in. that same liquidy stuff does its business and is then flushed out along with a whole lot of other crap. in the end (so punny!), the person feels a whole lot better once said stuff is removed.
perhaps more right wingers would be a little less hard-assed (omg, i'm on a roll!) about the whole abortion issue if they were forced to undergo mandatory enemas once in awhile, because honestly...fecal or fetal, does it really matter?
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