Look at What You've Done to Me

Okay, so well over a year ago we started this little blog because we were angry and bored and internalizing our happiness and wanted to share it all with our friends and enemies in the vain effort of making the world a better place. Unfortunately our friends and enemies alike were too busy at "work" to read our blogs and post hilarious commentary which would send us into a whirlwind of fame and fortune subsequently forcing us to quit our corporate jobs and become professional bloggers who sit around in pajamas all day eating cheese and watching reruns of Can't Get a Date on the Logo channel. Instead we would re-read our own posts over and over during the day and research the difference between a visit and a page view report wondering if people in Sydney were really reading our blog posts. It was a futile effort! So eventually it lost its fun and we buried our blog in 2006.
Today we were talking about the Walk Left, Stand Right initiative and reminisced about back in the old days when I Hate to Break it to You was alive and kicking (and supporting the New Amsterdam movement). And as I sat in my cushy new office, 38 floors above Park Avenue with a view of the Hudson, I missed the old days in my crushed cubicle and eternal boredom (the latter of which still continues on) and thought about maybe reinstating the web site under new management. So just putting some feelers out there into the world and seeing if it's a good idea. A new year but the same basic premise - Love ya LiLO but leggings are not pants.

I Gots Some Sand All Up in My Toe Jam From Runnin' From the Po-Po

Best line EVER The Duff sisters are officially genius.

Guess What? I'm a Stalker!!

So, I’m sitting at work minding my own business – surfing the internet, reading about strip clubs – the usual. All of a sudden my cell phone rang and it was an un-listed number. Despite my busy schedule I picked up the phone because I hate checking my voicemails. Usually, people call me and leave voicemails and then I don’t check them for like a couple of weeks and then it’s really annoying because I have cingular and I can’t delete in the middle of a message – I have to wait ALL the way until the end of the message before I can delete it. And since I usually wait so long to check them I’ve already spoken to the person a kajillion years before and the information relayed in the message is so boringly old I practically have to restrain myself from peeling off my eyelids in frustration.

Anyway – so this guy calls me and he is angry. And he asks me who this is and I’m like…this is real_pants, who is this? And he said it doesn’t matter who he is, but someone from my cell phone number has been calling him constantly all day. THREE WHOLE TIMES. (I would like to interject that aside from the fact that it’s a weird situation since clearly I haven’t been calling an unrestricted number all day – duh I’m busy working – three times does not a stalker make.) So I said, in very good humor despite this man’s poor attitude, “That’s impossible, I’m at work and I don’t know who you are.” But he wouldn’t listen to reason, and then yelled at me and told me that I’d better stop or he’s going to report me. And I was right in the middle of telling him he could report away, tell whomever he darn well pleases, when he hung up on me.

How rude is that?

Obviously something’s going on with my cell phone, but besides the strangeness of the situation, I think that guy is really rude and slightly stupid. Rude because he was mean to me. And stupid because who is he going to “report” me to? Who cares? Do you think the police care that some person called him three times in a day and then hung up? No, they are busy catching serial killers and eating donuts and having sex with prosthetics specialists (shout-out, Dexter!). So anyway, I hope he calls me back so I can tell him that he’s a total imbecile and has the IQ of the sock that my cat dragged into her litter box the other day.

I’m sure that if he’d approached the situation in a calm and collected manner we could have gotten to the bottom of the great cell phone calling mystery. But instead he was mean and hung up on me so now all of you will feel the great void in your lives of never knowing who it really was that called him.

Cultural Sensitivity in the Translation Industry

Real_Pants: according to the site meter, someone in china, mexico and canada and portugal has signed into our website
i'm beginning to think they are making things up
it also says both houston AND irving texas...
Kickmeup: weird...
maybe it's like some sort of weird remote thing
CHINA? i mean come on
like they'd even ALLOW china to read it!
Real_Pants: people in china read CHINESE
not american
Kickmeup: EXACTLY
goddamned simplified chinese is what they read
certainly not american english!
Real_Pants: yeah they're not fooling anyone with their slanty eyes
Kickmeup: oh my god we're so getting fired.

Super Sistah Hannukah POWER!

Before I begin today’s post, I’d like to give a shout out to McDallas, our newest recruitee and devoted reader of this blog. That makes 4 people (including myself and Kickmeup)!!

Christmas season has arrived. I want to try really hard not to succumb to the typical New York blogger’s Christmas season postings. These involve talking about how much people who aren’t New Yorkers suck. Even Gawker has caught the plague this year and I completely agree with everything they say so I’m not even going to go there.

Soooo, what can I talk about BESIDES how my life when not cowering in bed beneath 8 layers of blankets has become overwhelmingly occupied with pushing non-English speaking pedestrians off of street corners? I know, let’s discuss something that has been lacking from my life – something that I feel I need in order to truly be whole. I need to be someone’s Sistah.

I am someone’s sister – that is I’m brother_pants’ little sibling. Fine, that’s just fine. But I want to be a sistAH! I want to walk down the street and have someone think, “Oh, there’s my sistah,” and then they’ll scream across the street at me “Hey, sistah! I’m over here,” and I’ll wait until no cars are coming and strut over and be like, “Hey, what’s up?!” I feel like being a Sistah would be a really great experience and make me feel like I’m doing something more with my life than being a sexy white lady. On TV everybody’s always talking about Sistahs. On the Amazing Race the Sistahs are the first all woman team to make it to the top three!! That’s really impressive! If I were a Sistah I’d have that chance also. This whole sistER thing has been really holding me back in life.

Nigger_nose, can I please be your Sistah? Sometimes I take the A train…that should be reason enough.

Paris Hilton's Vag

You know what I’m tired of? Paris Hilton. I’m so over hearing about Paris Hilton. I crave new, non-Parisian gossip. It’s all I see nowadays, and it’s boring and old. Everybody knows Paris is an ugly, tranny-like rich whore so why are they always surprised when she acts excessively like an ugly, rich prostitute? It shouldn’t be on the news. It’s like, everybody knows that I breathe so I don’t continuously post blogs about my breath. Like, for example, if this blog looked like this:

6:01 am EST
I breathed in!

6:02 am EST
I exhaled!

6:03 am EST
OOPS! Inhaled…

6:04 am EST
Despite having inhaled a minute ago, I just exhaled.

8:30 am EST
I just arrived at work! I did a lot of breathing on the way here today…

I’d probably be going through oxygen withdrawal because I’d only be breathing once a minute but still, you get the gist of what I’m saying, right? How I’m making a comparison between me breathing and Paris Hilton acting out? How me breathing, an involuntary action, is the same thing as Paris Hilton making the gossip news for doing something inane? You see?

Anyway, I really think that people should start ignoring her and get back to some REAL gossip for me because I need to do something when I’m at work that’s not working.

Also, I just re-read Kickmeup’s post from last week and I’m seriously re-disturbed. She should really cut down on the diet coke.

I. P. Freely

I know we spend a lot of time joking on here, but today I have to get serious. I have a problem. I haven’t talked about this problem with a lot of people, but I think it’s time to share my story. Maybe I will learn that there are others like me out there. Others with an overly-powerful urethra.

Every time I sit down to pee the force is so strong that my country time lemonade hits the porcelain and sprays back up onto my legs! This is not only time consuming (having to wipe down my inner things) but also a real bruise to my fragile ego. Nothing like peeing on yourself to knock you down a couple of notches.

So this is my question. Is it the force or the angle? Does everyone pee on themselves and no one talks about it? Is this why I’m single?! Does everyone KNOW I pee on myself?! HELP!!!!

Who's the Princess? I'M THE PRINCESS.

FINALLY! It’s my birthday. Today I expect to be pampered and dote upon like the Queen that I am. I woke up this morning and opened all the cards and presents I had acquired over the past few weeks, and being the giving person that I am I even let Basta (the fat cat) play with one of my open FedEx envelopes. Another example of my being a selfless god of a human being: I decided to sacrifice myself and not take my free day off of work. I slept in though, and ended up having to take a shower after my roommate. This was a bad idea. Roomie takes 20 minute long showers. I don’t know what he does in there, but what he doesn’t do is leave me hot water for my birthday. Thanks Roomie!
After the cold shower I was running late and when I got to the train there were no seats. Even worse, even though it’s my birthday today nobody gave up their seat for me. What a bunch of assholes you all are. It’s my birthday damn-it!! So then I STOOD on the subway and was late to work
Anyway, I know you are all now worried that I may not be enjoying my birthday. But things are looking up. Mom and dad_pants sent me flowers and told me I’m amazing (duh). Coworker_cubemate bought me beans and rice for lunch, and plans are in action for a grilled kangaroo dinner. Plus somewhere in the mess of this morning there was an incident involving a Red Velvet cupcake. Keep the presents coming though…