It's Moving Day!

Alright kids, listen up.  Flamingo Street has moved and you are now standing in a condemned blog.  If you want to find out how long it takes me to eat that 5 pound bag of mints, listen to me rant about the latest asshat to piss me off, and finally engage in witty repartee in a comments section that doesn't require you to log in, then please come join me at my new home.

Don't forget to change your reader feeds / bookmarks.

I'll Be Deducting My Outrage From The Rent

Back on July 2nd my landlady's son told me that the DPW would be shutting off the water from noon until 2pm.  Seems he neglected to tell me that this water event would in fact be happening on NOVEMBER 2nd. 

Thus, I found myself standing in the shower at noon today with a head full of shampoo and hangover wondering if the full moon's effect on the tides was causing my impromptu water outage. 

Thanks a lot, douchenoodle.

Tricks and Treats

This Halloween I've decided to dress up as The Recession.  When the snot-nosed thieves trick-or-treaters come to my door I will emerge unshowered, wearing the same t-shirt and sweatpants I donned three days ago, holding a giant empty ceramic bowl. 

I just love holidays that double as civics lessons, don't you?

Update:  Good news! By next week the bowl will be filled with these.  Any bets on how long that 5 pound bag will last me?

Wordless Wednesday

Gratitude Sunday

I'm grateful to be having full blown PMS in the middle of a snowstorm. This way I can eat pie and ice cream with a shovel.

Oh, and I'm probably going to start eating visitors next, so you might want to think about leaving soon.

The Letting Go

"Great minds discuss ideas; Average minds discuss events; Small minds discuss people."  - Eleanor Roosevelt

By Eleanor's standards I was being small-minded in yesterday's post about the Best Man and his shitty wedding toast.  So I've decided that today I will elevate myself to average-minded status by discussing an event instead. 

Let's talk about how I just lost my job.  Ah look at me, I'm feeling average already!  Technically, I was "indefinitely furloughed" yesterday  wtf?!  Basically, they're still leaving the door open to bring me back should they actually start to make money and be able to pay the light bill again.  Of course, if I wait around indefinitely for their circumstances to change, my lights will get shut off.  So uh, sorry dudes but I've gotta follow the cash.  If that means becoming a drug mule for the local Brazilian mob, so be it.  A Flamingo's gotta put shrimp on the table somehow.

Feeling a bit deflated upon hearing the "we-hate-to-have-to-do-this" speech, I went in search of some inspirational words of wisdom. And Internet, I had no idea that Eleanor Roosevelt was so prolific in her wisdom!  Seriously, that woman must have talked non-stop. oops, small mind alert!  So today, let us take a look at unemployment through the eyes of one of our greatest First Ladies*.

*with comments by one of our smallest minds

"A woman is like a tea bag- you never know how strong she is until she gets in hot water."

At first this sounded great and I was all "I am woman, hear me roar" but then I got skeeved out by the idea that Eleanor Roosevelt said tea bag....

"The purpose of life is to live it, to taste experience to the utmost, to reach out eagerly and without fear for newer and richer experience."

Even if that experience is cat food?

"You gain strength, courage and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, 'I have lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along.' You must do the thing you think you cannot do."

Nooooooo!

"People grow through experience if they meet life honestly and courageously. This is how character is built."

Just what I always wanted to be, a bag lady with character.

"I could not at any age be content to take my place in a corner by the fireside and simply look on."

Gee Eleanor, when you put it like that, I guess unemployment isn't gonna be so bad after all. That fireside looks great. Pass the chianti... 

Wedding Recap - When The Best Becomes The Worst

Upon the DJ's urging, we all rose to our feet, champagne glasses in hand, ready to toast the newlyweds after a few short words from the Best Man. In my experience, most BMs like to keep it short and sweet because they’re either:

A) terrified of public speaking
B) a little drunk
C) both

Unfortunately, it quickly became clear that this particular Best Man was not familiar with the concept of short and sweet. I swear this guy’s toast must have clocked in at a solid 18 minutes. Thank goodness I was wearing comfortable shoes.

And then we heard it, a kinda nerdy, kinda shy, kinda drunken voice emanating from the speakers on the DJ’s table. Unfortunately I couldn’t actually see BM from where I was sitting. As usual, Boy Wonder and I had been assigned to the wedding equivalent of the kids’ table at Christmas Dinner – shoved in a corner with the rest of the guests whom the Bride knows will likely drink too much, laugh too loud, and heckle the DJ at some point during the evening. 

BM began to speak of his childhood memories of growing up with the Groom - memories that included G’s penchant and freakish talent for the game of chess as well as BM’s pointless attempts at playing him. I could go into detail here, internet, but you really don’t want me to. It was basically just a bunch of chess blah blah blah he’s really good at it blah blah blah I suck at it blah blah blah is this microphone still on blah blah blah?.

Moments pass like molasses as BM’s little stroll down memory lane approaches the 9 minute mark. At this point I'm mainlining gin and tonic, afraid to look at BW or our friend C because I know we will all burst into fits of heckling laughter if I do. Then, pulling a non sequitur the likes of which I’ve never seen, BM launches into the second act of his monologue toast which goes something along the lines of there’s this restaurant that G likes blah blah blah where they serve 9 pound lobsters blah blah blah I never believed him blah blah blah until I ate there myself blah blah blah and wow, those really were some big lobsters blah blah blah G really likes lobsters blah blah blah.

Another 8 minutes and 45 seconds have oozed through the hourglass, during which time I have mainlined every other alcoholic beverage on our table and my toes have gone numb from standing.  Either that or they have a little buzz on.

Suddenly, in a final and utterly unexpected 15 second spurt toward the finish line, BM ties it all together with, I shit you not:

“So I guess what I'm trying to say is, B,  I really hope you can make G as happy as that 9 pound lobster did. Oh, and if you want to have a happy marriage, don’t ever challenge G to a game of chess.”

Really, Best Man?  Are you fucking kidding me?  That's your toast? 

THAT? 

..........................................

And so, as the evening waned, the Angels had bested the Red Sox, the Broncos had trampled the Patriots, my liver had been turned inside out like a used Ziploc bag, and the wait staff was using a crumber to sweep tiny little bits of brain matter off the table where my head had just exploded.