Hold the Whipped Cream

The condo is done being painted, and it looks AWESOME.

I move in this weekend!! I’ll post pictures of it when I remember to tote along my camera.

I made my way into the dirt parking lot that is my “office building” this morning— and in my Envoy again, Simon greedily took back the Escalade— when I saw something that made me laugh.

There was no better way to describe it than for someone to close their eyes and picture how they would see Old School Ybor. It went something like this: old man is getting haircut outside by an even older man, while an even OLDER man watches with fascination in his little motor scooter. It wouldn’t have been so funny if the man didnt bring his own barber chair and drape for his customer to wear. I imagined their meeting to be something like this (either translate the following text to Spanish or fake your strongest Spanish accent):

“Hello sir, would you happen to need a new haircut today?”

“Well, yes, actually, my hair is starting to fall over my fitover sunglasses. It’s been pretty hard to see the dominoes.”

“You’re in luck! I brought some supplies with me. Hold on while I look in my vinyl-topped Buick for my portable barber’s seat and shears.”

And you know the guy was hardcore, because he was cutting his hair in the rain. Hope he didn’t use an electric razor.

1. Spending an hour of worktime to get ready for happy hour denotes some sort of problem.

2. Not eating for a week before a pool party totally works. Don’t let anyone tell you different.

3. Not eating before you take numerous Jell-O shots does not.

4. A little healthy competition always makes things interesting. Especially if you win.

5. Dreading yourself wearing a bikini is the biggest waste of energy. Running your fat ass off is a much better use of time.

6. Joanna is in town. I’m pretty fuckin’ excited.

wait it out.

I haved deemed the first and last hour that I work each day as my respective “warm-up” and “cool-down” hours. There’s no sense in delving into mundane office labor the second I walk in. There’s some serious Internet surfing to be done beforehand— primarily of a Facebook nature.

So I went to an amateur wrestling show last night with Simon. Number one, I was utterly embarrassed that my upper class stockbroking father hoots and hollers at be-siliconed “divas” along with the rest of the interesting fans. Number two… it was pretty entertaining. 

I didn’t get into it as much as everyone else, of course, but it was pretty fun to watch a bunch of grown men (and by grown I mean me x3) prance around in speedos that look like they got stuck in a bedazzler. Two of the girls that fought had a really classy rhinestone outline on their asses that made it look like they had thongs on underneath— despite the fact that their pants were clearly not see-though.

There was a little girl sitting next to us who reminded me of myself when Simon took me to a match when I was 8. If she would’ve yelled, “PULL HIS BEARD!” it would’ve been like staring into the past. But alas, the only dude with a beard had it braided… and he never really fought.

I saw a link on MSN that said “Drink Yourself Slimmer.” Imagine my surprise, a diet plan that INCLUDES, not interferes with, my social life.

Too bad the advice was “Nix extra calories by consuming less energy drinks, soft drinks, and cocktails. Opt for water.”

Yeah, no shit. 

DISAPPOINTMENT!

Simon is making me go to an H.A. meeting at the condo that I DON’T TECHNICALLY LIVE AT YET. He wants me to meet the people and listen to what goes on. Okay, Simon, I’ve concocted a bulletpoint list as to why this is a terrible fucking idea and I should not be going:

• I have no desire to meet any neighbor over the age of 30.
• People under the age of 30 have no desire to attend an H.A. meeting.
• I could care less what color Mrs. Smith wants to paint her patio. Paint it fuchsia for all I care. Color is great.
• Despite your wishes, I do not want to eventually run for “The Board.”
• Attending regular H.A. meetings is one step away from yelling at children to stop splashing in the pool.
• I need to go shopping.
• You need to get a life and/or spend more time at home.

Please take these points into account when considering how imperative it is I attend this meeting. The correct answer is, “Well, dear, I think it’s okay if you go shopping. Also, since you’re such an amazing daughter, here’s my credit card. Go crazy.” I’ll settle for just the first half, though.

I have a problem with poor spelling, even when it’s coming from a rapper. Yung Joc has a new song out called “Boo Koo,” and I thought at first he was making up some new, I don’t know, “rap word.” No, he wasn’t, actually. He was just butchering the word beaucoup. You know like, “I have beaucoup money in my account for once.” Young Joc’s version went something like this…

“30 inches on yo Impala! (We say boo koo)”

Really Joc? Work on that…