Kono's Quote of the Week

This is a fantastic little feature that is normally found over on Random Musings From the Beach, but I'm taking over this week because I was lucky enough to eat lunch there yesterday, out in the sunshine and fresh air. It's good for what ails ya.

Kono's is a fantastic little breakfast place that also does burgers, right on the boardwalk by Crystal Pier. They glean their quote of the week from their customers who, because this is Pacific Beach, tend toward the stupid. Then again, after standing in line for 45 minutes to get breakfast (a common occurance on Saturdays), even I get a little glassy eyed. So now that it's totally been built way up, here's this week's Kono's Quote of the Week:

"Can we get our eggs done flat?"

I am so sick.

For those of you who have been silently bitching that there's no new Funundrum, you may now feel bad about yourself for expecting so much out of a sick girl. I have certainly already taken a moment to think the worse of you.

Seriously, though, this cold has kept me home from work for two days. That's a lot, not because of my slavish devotion to my job so much as the fact that I'm a pretty healthy person who has the "I'll suck it up and be just fine" disease that I inherited from my dad.

I have got to move somewhere less beautiful. For those of you who live in overall nice climates (Orange County, Fort Lauderdale, Brisbane: yes, you. Ireland, Las Vegas: not so much.), you know how it is. You're lying there, dead or nearly so, wishing that you could have a brief moment of clarity so you can remember if it's time to take more DayQuil, and then you make the mistake of peering outside, Boo Radley style. Outside, there are birds weaving wreaths of roses to bestow upon passers-by, deer puppies are gamboling upon the sweetly scented rolling hills of grass that weren't there just yesterday, and a cherubic satyr beckons you outside with a beguiling tune from his pan pipes.

And, since you feel like ass, you roll over in your manky pile of blankets and go back to sleep. Good times. But I'm going back to work tomorrow, and with Chris busy this week with rehearsals and such, maybe I can find more crap to throw up here. In the mean time -- if you're healthy, enjoy it. Go outside. Just watch out for the satyr droppings.

Sam, we hardly knew ye.

I'm sorry to report that Sam, the World's Ugliest Dog, has died. He was the greatest ugly dog ever, and I'm glad that he got the worldwide recognition that he deserved before he went. If Chris and I can't get our act together to take a photo for Christmas cards, I'm thinking of just sending out cards with Sam on them. Good dog Sam!

URGENT Jeffty Jeff and Heidi Update!

There are indications that the Heidi move-out, as previously described, did not go down exactly as reported.

When Heidi was seen putting lots and lots of tarty clothing items in the back of her truck, it was assumed that she alone was moving out. Who can blame us for this assumption -- we just can't imaging having to put up with either one of those couche-tards for more than a couple of months.

To quote the Dude, "New information has come to light, man. " Over the last couple of days, Heidi has been seen around the house as usual, coming and going with Jeff in his never-ending quest to spread his toolness all over this fine city of ours. But we're still hearing stuff being banged around a lot more than usual next door, and today I heard Heidi talking to a friend. The phrase "since we're moving" surfaced through the Miles Davis that I had put on specifically to drown out that harpy.

Could it be? Not only is next weekend the end of the month, but it's a long weekend as well. Ideal for moving. Moving the hell out of my nice little shoebox duplex*. So. We shall wait, and pray, and wait a little more. If I happen to catch the strumpet outside or something, I think I'll ask her about it, under the pretense of offering to move our car on the blessed day.

*Would not "Shoebox Duplex" be an excellent name for a rock band? Okay, maybe not rock. Maybe like pussy gnome emo.

Overheard from the neighbors.

Guy walking up the sidewalk to Craig's house: "What -- what ethnicicity [sic] am I displaying with this walk?" (slow shuffling heard)

Craig (after a pause): Homeless?

Guy: No. Asian.

Mom's blog.

For years, Mom has periodically sent me little envelopes stuffed with things. What kinds of things? Things I like, or weird things, or things that she thinks are funny and that I might like. It's always a lot of fun. Chris points out that this is her version of a blog, just on paper and put into an envelope.

If I had a scanner set up, I'd scan her stuff and post it. But until then, I think I'll just share with everyone what was in Mom's Blog this time around. Who knows, it might even become a regular feature.

1. "Hogs Wild in Berlin" -- Apparently when the wall came down in Germany, it let a big population of wild boars into downtown Berlin. Wildschweine (VILT-SHVYN-uh) rummage through the garbage like raccoons. The picture, of a mama boar and three boar puppies crossing the street, is very Abbey Road.

2. "Back Like A Fox" -- An article from the FJC Hornet about how the Fox Theatre is coming back to life, raising money for its restoration by showing outdoor movies. This has been proven to be very popular. My mom is even quoted in the story. Punctuation errors have been corrected.

Fullerton resident and Fox Theatre promoter Susan Rhein was helping the more than 50 volunteers clean up as the crowd departed. She said that there was still a lot of work to be done until the Fox is completely restored.

Volunteers are gathering again at the Fox on Sept. 11, 2005 to keep working on the odds and ends of the old building. "Anyone can show up and help," Susan said. "Bring a hard hat though." She added that if anyone forgets a hard hat, they have a few extra.

3. A new monkey species has been discovered. Key quote: "The whiskered, three-foot-long tree dweller utters a loud call scientists have termed a 'honk-bark.'" I'm imagining the sound from that Home Grown song "Chula Vista."

4. Apparently people judge you by your first name, a theory that I have always believed but never seen in print. Says here that children whose names start with lo-, ta-, and qua-, or end with -isha or -ious do far worse in school than their white differently-named schoolmates.

5. Mice can, and do, sing. Douglas Adams had it right all along.

6. Fullerton High School used to have a kayak club, back in the 30's. Every student of FUHS has heard the celebrated stories of kayak races on the sunken front lawn. They would flood it and put the boats out there, right along Chapman Ave. Mom sent a great article about the history of the kayak club, with a picture of them lined up on the beach in Corona Del Mar for "Pirate Days." Yar. This was back before school activities got crappy.

7. A list of the 10 worst jobs in the science field, with the #1 worst job being "Orangutan Pee Collector."

8. Finally, an entry for what appears to be a Trader Joe's coloring contest. The picture is of a girl alligator, who's painting a picture.

The dream is over.

Last weekend, a strange thing happened. We heard Heidi (of Jeffty Jeff and Heidi) ask Craig (the dude next door with the balcony) if she could use his phone. Sure, said Craig, who says sure to just about anything, because he's that kind of guy. It drove me crazy trying to figure out why, in the year of our Lord 2005, a 23 year old girl would need to use someone else's land line.

Today, all became clear. As I was walking down the street towards my building, I saw Heidi's truck pulled ass-first up the driveway. I had to beat down the sudden twinge of possibility that had sprung up within me. No, I told myself. There's no way she's moving out. They've only lived together for five months, have no hobbies or music in common, and hate each other's friends. What could possibly go wrong? Then, as I drew closer, I saw the trunk open and the back of the truck filled with garish strumpet costumes. The trash bags full of belongings outside their front door confirmed my glorious suspicions.

I fished the mail out of the box as quickly as I could, walked to my door like my ass was on fire, and alerted Chris to the goodness taking place without. "Heidi's moving out!" I hissed. "Her shit's already in her truck!" We jumped up and down like Halliburton employees after a major natural disaster, and reveled in our good fortune.

No more high pitched squeals during drunken parties at 3 am.

No more rusty pink bike cluttering up our back yard.

No more tiny socks with pink dingle balls in the dryer.

Our dinner tasted a little better, the night air seemed a little crisper. I wanted to shout "Huzzah!" and send a passing beggar boy to the butcher shop, to buy the biggest goose in the window. For it is Christmas Day!

Couche-tard

Yeah, you heard me. Couche-tard. According to Aidy, this is a chain of convenience stores in Montreal. They use an owl for their logo and are owned by Circle-K. Now you know everything there is to know about Couche-tard, so you're authorized to spend the rest of your days challenging fellow human beings with the hilarious reality of "Couche-tard."

Like Aidy said, "Imagine combining retard, douche bag, and coochie all in one curse phrase! That’s couche-tard."

Peanut butter.

Most of the peanut butter you see in the store has a lot more stuff in it than just peanuts. Sugar, artificial flavors, starch, other stuff. This is pretty much okay, becaus all the extra stuff makes it creamy and tasty and generally good.

Then I found Trader Joe's peanut butter. It's just got peanuts in it. No extra stuff. Now I know you're expecting me to go into a "Natural Stuff Is Better" tirade, but I'm not going to. It's softer than regular peanut butter, so it spreads a lot easier. That's about it. It's still full of fat because it's made from peanuts. I guess it has less sugar, so that's good. I would buy it again, because buying pure foodstuffs makes me feel like a better person.

That is, until I got me a jar of Henry's peanut butter. Like its counterpart at Trader Joe's, it's made of 100 percent peanuts. Unlike Trader Joe's peanut butter, it's runny as all hell. When you try to stir it up, you find that it's more solid the further down you dig, giving rise to the unpleasant realization that until you get about halfway through the jar, you're eating peanut butter-flavored peanut oil. Kinda disgusting.

But now we're about halfway through the jar, and it's edible. But still runny. More of an exercise in dipping prowess than sandwich-eating skills. So I guess what I'm saying is if you were raised on Skippy Super Chunk, like I was, stick with it. It's not worth the hassle. Get closer to nature in another venue.

IQ test to the rescue.

I was feeling a little down today. Maybe because my low-paying job was wigging me out, maybe because the teriyaki smell won't come off my hands (gonna have to resort to vinegar here pretty soon), maybe because I'm putting off writing another damn cover letter because I'd rather play crappy internet games. It doesn't matter.

What picked me up was this here free IQ test. It's an actual IQ test, run by Psychology Today, so it has to be good.

At any rate, it reminded me that I'm better than most people, so I will try to be more charitable to those around me who are less intellectually fortunate. Ha ha, no. I will just take advantage of them and then beat them to death with my abnormally large brain.

Attention Tim.

In Fort Lauderdale, standard poodles are noble creatures, beset with the task of roaming the streets of Rio Vista and challenging all strangers with the French-accented epithet of "Ah weel heet chyoo."

Here in San Diego, standard poodles are debased so far as to be helper dogs for crazy fat ladies.

Photo of Pope John Paul II and Bono Surfaces!

You saw it on Funundrum first, kids. There's nowhere else on the internet, according to Google, that has this here photo. Back in 1999, Bono met with Pope John Paul II. The story goes that Il Papa put on Bono's glasses, but did not allow any photos to be taken... but we all knew better. Now, after the Good Lord took John Paul back home, the rest of us get to see the picture we've been imagining for six long years. Photo credit: Rolling Stone magazine. Please don't sue me.

Best. Typo. Ever.

I don't normally do this, but I'm going to have to re-post something that I already saw on Dave Barry's blog. It's simply the finest opening sentence typo that I've ever seen.

Pennsylvania company recalls 94,400 lbs of beef
WASHINGTON (Reuters) - Quaker Maid Meats Inc. on Tuesday said it would voluntarily recall 94,400 pounds of frozen ground beef panties that may be contaminated with
E. coli....

By the time you read this, the link will be broken because someone will have caught the error, so I won't even bother. In the meantime, please feel free to conjure up one or more of the following images:

1) a big stack o' panty shaped beef patties, such as you might find at Costco.
2) someone patiently forming ground beef around their loins to fashion panties, sandcastle style.

Saving the world one fake movie at a time.

Please to enjoy today's installment of ICQ Madness.

[10:08] Hubert: from a live site i'm doing a review for:
[10:08] Hubert: "He has also authored a widely read piece on nursing home litigation entitled 'Dirty Harry Takes on the Nursing Home Industry: Practical Advice from a Vigilante Hero."

[10:08] Elizabeth R.: No. Just... no.

[10:08] Hubert: what in the...?

[10:08] Elizabeth R.: Is Dirty Harry wearing beef panties whilst liberating the nursing home?

[10:09] Hubert: we can only hope
[10:09] Hubert: I heard his "Rambo Shanks Negligent Property Owners" article is a classic

[10:09] Elizabeth R.: Shit yeah

[10:10] Hubert: "Chuck Norris and Michael Dudikoff Fight Medical Malpractice Ninjas"

[10:11] Elizabeth R.: hahaha
[10:12] Elizabeth R.: "Steven Seagal Throws Some Badly-Foleyed Air Punches At Defective Product Pushers"
[10:13] Elizabeth R.: the list is endless really

[10:13] Hubert: truly

I should have known better.

I just walked down to 7-11 to buy a phone card so I could find a hotel room in Baja for New Year's. I picked one up, handed it to the beaner behind the counter, and watched him get confused at me. But, in the end, I guess he decided that I was allowed to call Mexico after all and he sold me the card.

I took a look at it on my way out -- the damn thing was all in Spanish. For a tiny little evanescent moment, I was outraged that I didn't even get a cursory amount of Ingles. But I got over it really quickly -- I've outfoxed them at their own game, and understand their crazy backwards language. Ha.

Turns out the joke really is on me though. I got home, got all ready with a pad of paper, my phone card, and the phone, and...... all the hotels have 800 numbers for us gringos. Devil!

eBay auction of the day

I don't even know what to do with this. It's just 18 right shoes. I guess for a really styling amputee, it's a great idea. Oh, and they want a minimum of $100 for them.
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This auction is for 18 right sided mens athletic shoes. These are not pairs these are only the right side. These are shoes that have been put on in the store ( so used very lightly). Almost all of them are size 9 a few are 9.5.