Goodbye, Old Frenemy

So I threw out...er, bid adieu to chair spawn today. [History of this guy documented here, and then later here.]

SO LONG, FARE THEE WELL

He was barfing on my desk too much and I just couldn't pay his medical bills (mostly mental health) any longer.

PUDDLE OF SPLAT

Plus he was upsetting the other desk denizens, namely the three kids below.

STICKY DUCK

GOOGLY-EYED MONKEY BIRFDEE CARD

NONFUNCTIONAL NONDESCRIPT PINK PUFF MOUSEMAT

Unfortunately, as per the oozual, he gets the last laugh as my wrists are already aching without his soft cushiony touch.

How can you have such a stellar top half but be spewing garbage out your bottom half 25/8?!

Oh wait, I guess that describes most living organisms.

Maybe I will reconsider!!! The Hump Day is young, and hasn't jaded itself into a corner yet.

[Well, it used to be. Now it's not and chair spawn's fate is secured. Alas(t call).]

Who smells a B-horror movie?! (ayyy-eeee, the distinct aroma of cheapie popcorn and toilet bowl-sized beverages!)

Major Day-Improver

The best thing to smack my eyes today (via my friend Dave).

Courtesy of Moronail.net [Note that much of the website is NSFW.]

Also a huge fan of this and this.

I Just Googled Apocalpyse for Awhile...

Don't flatter yourself though Monday! It totally wasn't about you. Not even close.

The weather did remind me however. I need to further study the precursors of crows circling and how to maximize on the use of a Hefty poncho.

Never stop learning!

Faux-shun Shoot: Run(a)way Ready

So you guys don't get a lot of pictures of Boyfie, I'll admit that straight up, Paula Abdul-style (shoulderpads included). But finally I managed to capture some paparazzle-dazzle snaps of him.

NJOI.

Boyfie as an Alien Encounter


Alleged Boyfie capture LAST NIGHT. I'm pretty sure this is him. Pulling a Joaquin, no less!

Alleged Boyfie captured as he was leaving a restaurant (i.e., the kitchen)! WWPS: What would Perez scribble?


Boyfie is not sure what his next move is: Ex-cape or exoneration?

There's a He Wolf in my closet...teaching me some new dance moves. We ended in a dance-off as per the usual.

For Those Who Love Punishment...

Behold! A scolding of words!

Leave a present for the future.

Oh, the Humility!

My inner psychologist drooled all over her answer (i.e., the keyboard).

Mother, May I Phone a Friend?

My mom, this morning: What's a nice word for hag?

I wasn't even close to awake yet, but my neurons processed and then clung to that question as if it were a lifeboat sailing toward the new day.

She later clarified she was working on a birthday card for a friend. EVEN BESTER.

It's That Crime Again!

STUMP THE PUNNER is back again over yonder, featuring your weekly one-two PUNch.

Leave some cammants all up in dat (sweet, chocolate-covered peanutbuttery Reese's) piece, lest I harangue you further.

Even Plagiarism Can Be Performance Art

I did a super fun hosting gig at a music open mic tonight, and of course, without fail, I got Kanye stage rush heckled right in the plummy middle of a longish joke. I was pretty impassive because I suspected something was up as soon as I saw this giddy bloke making haste to the stage. My brain literally just acknowledged, "Ok, now this is happening."

Original (West vs. Swift)



Cross-heckle (West vs. Bale Reeeeemiiiiiiiiiixxxxxxxx) *caution: explicitly colorful language*



Cross-heckle (West vs. Obama Reeeeeeeemiiiiiiiiiiixxxxxxxx)



I had already heard of an incident like this occurring at another show on Monday night (in the comedy world, time is of the essence!) despite that audience's not really getting it either.

But honestly, my incident was some tipsy Thomas trying to top his Tuesday night to remember because he only came to the open mic to give his Beyonce speech and then leave. Unfortunately, the audience wasn't really so into it but this guy was, man oh boy oh manboy oh baby, was he ever.

Whatta champ. He yelled his name out afterward and lifted his arms in the air a la victor in a battle nobody understood. Even he might not remember this at the water cooler tomorrow morning, but for one second, just one second, life had a deeper meaning.

Today's hecklers have true grit. They stand behind what they say even if it's a blatant rip-off of somebody else.

And for that, well, "Imma let u finish."

Bean There, Done That

This past weekend I was in BosTOWN (not home of the Boss, Bruce Springsteen, though an easy mistake. But rather a very lovely New Englandian place where leaves are more supermodeli-fresh in the Fall compared to leaves in other places and the subway is called the (Mr.) T and some people are intellectuals and some of them have a distinctive accent) for the Boston Improv Festival.

It was a smashing good time and not just because the ladies of Mythical Newsroom are some of the funnest jazzhands party people that I know.

Here is a glamour shot of the lady team. For more of 'em, check out our full photo shoot which we forced on a well-intentioned bystander (ahem, boyfriend) around 2 A.M. at a party (where we often do our best work) one fortuitous night:

From left: Honora, Jenny, Karin, Me.

I. Arrival & Upheaval

Anybeans, so. The trip. Everything started out pretty suspense film/action movie. I left for B-town on Friday morning. Weather? Rainy. Timing? Early. (Imagine this all being typed in the corner of the screen thriller-style).

No flight delays! This was more shocking than if there had been flight delays. I took a cab to my hotel and the driver added secret fees (which I naively paid because I'm a sucker for secret fees in cities I've only been to twice before)!

I got to the hotel WAY before the other ladies, way way before...they weren't due for hours. I'm glad I got there earlier than them because there was an embarrassing incident during check-in (i.eeeee., they couldn't find my reservation!!!) Several breathtaking moments later...

So it turned out they had my name filed backwards! So they thought Aparna was my last name! So mortifying! If you'd believe it, this exact same thing happened at the last hotel I stayed at so I'm learning to live with it. Luckily, the concierge gave me a fresh warm chocolate chip cookie to call it even. Well, actually she did this for all check-in guests but I chose to interpret it as a gesture of apologetic feeding.

When I got to my room, I got pretty excited as per the usual. So I made a small photo essay.

BAFROOM! FOR TOILET & HYGIENE NEEDS!

TEEVEE!! FOR ENTERTAINMENT NEEDS!!

BEDZ!! FOR NAPPY SLEEPY NEEDS!!

THOUGHTFUL PILLOW NOTES!! FOR EMOTIONAL NEEDS!!

SOFA BED!!! THIS TOOK ME ONE HOUR TO MAKE!!! (called Boyfie for customer support)

I had so much time to spare, which meant mainly two things on Maslow's Hierarchy of Neediness: NAP and SHOWER.

II. It's Showtime (Plus More Behind-the-Scenes Hoopla)

Then I went downstairs to take the shuttle and there was the universe's cutest and tiniest Puggle puppy being walked outside/aired out. This is important because the puppy was in that really hyper stage of life (in which after one rolls out of the womb and gets one's bearings, one goes a little crazy with one's newfound freedom). He was flipping and flopping and zooming and vrooming. The man who was walking him was actually the father of the owner (a mere boykid) so he was all, "Now JUST RELAX for a second, will ya?! You're goin' nuts!" as if the puppy responded to Baby Boomer verbiage.

PLUS they were shooting an episode of What Not To Wear in the hotel so people with TV crew headsets were running around everywhere so overall I would rate the entertainment factor a 5 out of 5 whilst waiting for the complimentary shuttle.

Also let me note that the complimentary shuttle dropped me off a 20 minute walk away from where I was actually supposed to be so I showed up later than all three other members of the group, one who had been suffering through a bus stuck in traffic and the other two who were caught all up in flight delays. And I slipped like three times. I feel like B-town needs to put up some yellow "Caution: Slippery" signs everywhere because yo, it was slick. Nothin' smooth about me traversing those streets.

Our show was real fun. It was also a bit surreal as our venue was a Public Access TV studio. There were other crazy things too like you had to use a key to go to the bathroom BUT THEN you had to buzz back in through this other door to get back to the "stage." A real debacle for performers and audience alike, not that anyone is answering a ring-a-ling from Nature in the middle of a Mythical show, but just pretend.

There were some partytimes at night. Involving the usual: texting, drinking, more texting, and shouting over noise. I got to hang out with my friend Nancy (who I haven't seen in YEARSSSSSS) and her significant otro, which was absolutely more than I could ask for because they are both the best!!!

III. A Hard Day's Play

The next day three out of four of us gals went to workshops. I was one of the three! One of the instructors, Joe Bill, a pretty biggie deal in the improv world thought I was somebody else that he had met before. That was exciting! To be confused with another female Indian improviser who is accomplished and attractive. I'll take it.

The morning workshop was good, and then Karin went back to the hotel, but Honora and I also had signed up for an afternoon workshop full of bounce and verve with esteemed teachers Jesse Parent and Joe Kyle Rogan. Honora was a shining star of improv, but I got intimidated and therefore wanted my Mommy and a nap.

Meanwhile, back at the hotel room, Karin had nail painted herself into a corner. We literally had to rescue her using nail polish remover and a hotel card key, but she gave us Twizzlers as a reward. Then Karin and I watched Hoarders on A&E until I fell asleep out of fear/confusion and her eyes and ears continued intrepidly onward.

That night, I had a stand up gig at a fun club called Tommy's Comedy Lounge, where the crowd grew in size throughout the night and everyone was real nice and I didn't shame D.C. so, all in all, fist pump! Then I rode the T (for the first time) back to join the other ladies.

THEN MORE PARTYTIMES!!! Involving spontaneous dancing and eating two orders of nachos at a table, and not apologizing for it.

This is a picture I sent Boyfie to show how much I missed him. There was a theme of sending sad pictures via text over the weekend so it totally makes sense and I am not codependent, but thanks for reading too much into that.

IV. Funclusion

Then, in the early morning, I jumped in a cab and went back to the voluminous and sleek h'airport. Welcome to the good life.

Alice in Wonderland

Dear Alice,

So today morning, the ghost bike came back and it brought friends.

Sometimes reminders are mighty important little things.

Love you!

(Photos courtesy of Alice's Friends & Family)

PUNLEASHING THE BEAST

If you thought you were sick of my puns before, well then, get ready to vomit nonstop because it's the glorious return of STUMP. THE. PUNNER. (*cue game show audience applause and The Price Is Right levels of excitement*)

Not here. But over here.

Still! I've committed to something for two consecutive weeks. That's progress.

GIMME MORE PUNS FOR NEXT WEEK NOM NOM NOM.

Mirror, Mirror...(on a Funhouse Wall)

Here are some micro-affirmations from me to myself courtesy of I-yay-yay to add some pep to my salt:

You sure know how to break up a sentence with a well-placed semi-colon.

You show up at parties at the right time because it reminds others that they need to leave.

You would not yell "Alright, who's pregnant?!" after someone announces a water break at a meeting, but you would think it.

Your hair styles are non-threatening.

You enjoy movies that make others feel morally and intellectually superior to you.

Your use of a stapler is completely competent.

You would defend someone's honor if they needed another quarter for the vending machine.

You are not afraid to refuse a receipt from an ATM even if it's dressed real nice.

You always eat one more pancake than is your limit because you feel sorry for it.

You accept backhanded compliments with backwards grace.

You tend to stay slightly dehydrated at all times in case someone might ask you if you got the thirst before sending you on a modern-day quest.

Part Deux-Deux: Ringing Me Up & Wringing Out My Self-Esteem

Oh, I have one more incident or non-incident (depending on your politics) to report regarding customer service, or lack thereof.

I went to a mainstream hipster store yesterday (name redacted because they don't need/want people to think just any-ol'-body can prance into their cooler-than-thou stores).

I wasn't intending to buy anything but then Boyfie pointed at this adorable little T-shirt tunic-dress with a ribbon tie-belt, and I couldn't very well say "No, I am not going to try that piece of heaven on." And then, after having done that, I couldn't further say "Nah, maybe some other time" after he gave me the thumbs-up in spite of the aggressively apathetic dressing room attendant who was also staring at me. I mean, damn Mami, a girl's gotta bow to the fashion pantheon sometimes.

So I went to ring myself up. I wish you could check yourself out of retail stores just like you can do now at grocery stores but then everyone would be entering couture as 50% off sunglasses or whatnot, and it would all go to raggedy pieces from there. Not to mention those electronic sensors you gotta remove; those things could have their own show, they're so fierce and yet entirely lacking any substantial personality.

The cashier was a card in the very truest sense of the word. First of all, he was the first South Asian male hipster I've seen ever, but not even in the second-generation Americanized sense. He still had his Asian accent well intact,and a full mustachio to boot. He also appeared to be in his mid-30s, or was one of those exceedingly overdeveloped teenagers considering no other staff in the store appeared over the ripe age of 25.

Hipsters don't care who you are, only who they are! (She has arm warmers; what do you bring to the table? That's rhetorical.)
photo courtesy of Flickr and permanently scatterbrained

We both sized each other up pretty quickly, me deciding he was a figment of my imagination, and him deciding I was a barely-there nuisance that needed to be dealt with smartly so he could continue on with his independently labeled night.

"Hello!" He proclaimed boldly, flashing his white teeth like reverse customer currency.

"Oh hi." I said trying to downplay the interaction.

"I'll take you over here actually," he pronounced, whisking himself and my selection over to the opposite end of Register Island.

"Alright," I said, already significantly disoriented.

He looked more like Tickle Me Emo than Tickle Me Hipster, but he was bursting with joie de freakin' vivre!
photo courtesy of Flickr and moacirpdsp

"Did you find everything you needed OK?!" His tendency was to accent the last syllable in every sentence so instead of just inflecting upward with the question mark, he added some extra flair, causing his words to shoot way over my head into outer space.

"Uh, yes."

"AWESOME!!!" He shouted this so loudly that the store, which was completely devoid of people except for other employees impassively folding inventory, shuddered a bit. The sales rack completely disintegrated in the face of such unbridled enthusiasm and passion for retail.

I wasn't sure where to look as he handled my purchase so I kept my eyes on the cash register and didn't let them budge by a millimeter.

"Your total is [blahdee-blah]!" (Again, this announcement was couched in the weight and volume of a trumpet blast, but one that aims to appear as if it's not trying that hard.)

I was already brandishing my credit card protectively in front of my face, ready to obediently scan it on the little machine provided.

"I'll swipe that over here," he said grabbing my card and sweeping it through with a grand flourish.

I was completely bedazzled with fear at this point.

"PLEASE SIGN ON THE LINE!!" He screamed while maintaining a secret smirk on his lips.

Why scorn, what is, how hey?! As I got ready to sign, the electronic pen disobeyed my hands and instead of a signature, an ugly black whirlpool of ink pixels spat out on the little window.

"Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" The cashier groaned.

I was certain he was groaning at my penmanship, but I looked up and realized Nope, he was just groaning in general. Into the air. At the state of the world (in which I, a mere black and white stick figure to his 3-D technicolor personality, could exist).

I pressed Accept on the electronic signature tablet. And he did some more twirling and whirling in getting my receipt in the bag, and then doing a choreographed curtsy-bow, he bent entirely perpendicular to me and condescendingly handed me my bag over the counter as if I was fake-royalty.

"Here you are. Have a good one!" He chirruped, but again with absolutely zero sincerity and making .05% eye contact. Then I was dead to him and he was back to hamming it up for his colleagues/the opposite of society.

I ran out of that store clutching my impulse buy and muttering some incantations to ward off bold personalities. Boyfie had already wisely escaped about midway through my transaction.

Habitat for inhumanity.
photo courtesy of Flickr and Ingorrr

That man-boy clearly enjoyed patronizing patrons of the store.

Anyhoops, in conclusion, customer service. What is the haps. Shit's crazy!

How May I Help You Get Out of My Face?

I don't know what happened to customer service (besides the financial climate, I mean), but it's gotten just plain weird.

Don't expect coddling here!
photo courtesy of Flickr and yummiec00kies

I am bad at handling social interactions to begin with, but when I'm supposed to have some kind of barter relationship with someone, I expect it to go pretty smoothly since all the steps are already laid out. In fact, I usually just shimmy in and backwards shuffle step appreciatively out, and try and cause as little significant impact on other people's days as possible.

I call it "leave-no-trace consuming." I (Louisiana) purchase lots of stuff but nobody remembers I bought any of it because I either buy it online or I try to make little to no impression on anybody in stores across America, or heck, the world even!

So on Saturday, I go to explore this bakery cafe that has been in my neighborhood for many years, but once I had a dry brownie there so I imposed a random hiatus period which I generously decided to lift out of mild curiosity. Brownies can only stay dry for so many years until things need to change.

Here's what happened. The place had a whole new look. Instead of just selling dry brownies, they now sell everything you could fancy (minus plungers, though I know that's the go-to for most economically-impaired imaginations) including grain-infused Swiss yogurts, fresh-tossed and packed penne, passion fruit rugelach, and a coffee bar!

So of course I lost my senses for awhile including my sixth one because I was in no way prepared for the (cinnamon) twist ending. As I made a few rounds of the store and the cashier, a harmless-enough-looking young 'un (maybe college student, maybe not), began giving me the hairy/evil/lazy (triple threat) eye. That should have been my first and last clue.

So I finally make all my selections and I'm feelin' real jazzed because I didn't know the store was going to succeed my expectations in such a grandiose, yup-yup-yuppieish manner as opposed to the rah-rah-recession bread line/coffee grinds puddle water I anticipated.

As we being our exchange, this guy gives me the coldest customer service I've ever experienced. No smile, no gratitude, no acknowledgement of being a human being. I mean, there's angry cashiers, but this man was just empty. A corn husk doll making change happen in only the most material sense of the word.

I thanked him profusely and every time I thanked him, something strange happened. He would just stare right into my eyes as if to say, "Just stop. Stop acting like we're interacting with each other, you fellow droid. There is nothing. Only the void." I'm positive he was a robot set to stun with silence.

Some people just know how to discomfitingly stare.
photo courtesy of Flickr and noahg

Contrast him with the cashier guy at the movie rental store (where I also paid a visit) who was quite possibly a current or ex-gang member. He had a neck tattoo, he looked like he could use a DVD case as a throwing star, and his name has been a gang member's name in nearly every film I've seen about gangs.

Anyway, he was definitely both professional and polite, but he also looked completely robot-like. I was a bit scared when he finalized our transaction because he took out this random piece of paper and put a tally mark next to his name, like I was being added to some kind of a pure numbers list.

I guess gang members like keeping track of their "sales." But I'll be honest, I was slightly apprehensive—especially because I was renting a Harry Potter movie, which probably wasn't winning me any toughness points ("I know some paid-time-off spells?!").

I guess that service with a creepy smile is worse than no smile at all.
photo courtesy of Flickr and aliwest44

I don't know where I was going with all of this except that never judge a brownie or a DVD by its cover because it turns out to be completely pointless anyway. And always be nice to customer service people even if they are mean to you because they could very well add you to some kind of list, and then you could get coupons in the mail and stuff. Also if they stare at you a lot, act like you are checking your watch. It works especially if you also need to know what time it is!

P.S. Later, in my effort to be a civil servant, I tried to donate a musical instrument to a store and they said "No, thanks! But you should try a school instead." Yeah, like walking into schools and dropping off gifts for no one in particular is something we do in this day and age. But I'll try. I just had to complain about it first by staring at the sky, shaking my fists yelling "Why?! Why?! Why?!", and blogging, naturally.

Punny You Asked

Hey Crumbs!

I will post again as soon as I regain feeling in my crone face (CALLBACK ATTACK), but in the nicetime, here goes.

I am now hosting a semi-regular challenge over at my friend Karin's HILARI-MAZING blog called STUMP THE PUNNER.

Check it out and leave some feedback on the inter-mic.

And I'm out!

Malcolm XOXO and/or Jackie OXOX,
Raparnzel and/or RaPUNzel