No They Di-Int...

Oh yes they did. The Brother of Tex introduced me to cheesesteaks: Tejas style. I stood outside the shop and yelled, "ImposTORAY!!!" in an Italian accent while shaking my fist at the front window. Then I went in and ate a cheesesteak.

Viva La Houston

This is for all of you who didn't believe me when I blogged about the shows we watch in secret.

This photo is an actual screen shot of Nicole's DVR menu here in Houston.















Between catching up on TGIF reruns tomorrow, I plan to visit "The Texadelphia: Home of the Original Texas Cheesesteak".

Stay tuned for my review...

Flavored Wrapping Paper!?!?

Today, one of the commerical superintendents (yes, the very same super from my infamous get rich quick dare) brought in some wrapping paper from the dollar store. I didn't think much of it until he shoved it in my face and demanded that I read the description of this flavored wrapping paper:

This wrapping paper the assortment is numerous, and the species assorts with the popular vogue syncronous, the applicability of low file product in rarious, senior high school is expensive, deep sufler the large businessman to like!

Yeah, I don't know either. I just though it was funny.

Good luck!

No Bones About It: The Prestige

Did anyone doubt that I'd be seeing The Prestige on opening night? I'd been looking forward to it for months. Christian Bale, Hugh Jackman, David Bowie - what's not to like?

I'll tell you what's not to like - being late to the movie and sitting in the very back row on the far side, sitting next to the loudest nose breather on the planet who spends two and a half hours scratching the swishily-clad back of his companion and simultaneously usurping all of the arm space between us.

Let me break it down. I love going to the movies, and I like things to be a certain way when I'm at the movies. A good seat is priority, which in my mind, justifies getting to the theater an hour early on opening night to make sure. None of my friends grasp the importance of getting a good seat, so we're almost never there as early as I'd like to be. (And yes, I've accepted and embraced the fact that I'm anal. Bless the dear little hearts of the friends who tolerate it.)

While we arrived at the movie early, apparently we weren't early enough, as the only available seats were in the very back. I love the annoyed looks on people's faces when I ask if that seat is taken, because it's the same look I give people. I don't like to sit next to anyone other than my friends, so I don't blame them.

I was lucky enough to be seated next to the number-one-all- time-most-super-in-love- couple in Utah. The way they sat in eachother's laps was nasueatingly precious, and I could have ignored it if not for the intermittant jabs to the ribs I got as they shifted spooning positions.

And then the breathing started. I don't know how this man managed to breathe without shooting snot rockets with every exhale. I really don't know - I tried to mimic his forceful breathing technique and ended up with dribbles of snot. He sounded like he was having an asthma attack and his mouth was sewn shut. I literally plugged my left ear to try and enjoy the previews. I was still determined to enjoy myself.

I managed to momentarily forget about the nose breather, and in that moment, that one blissfully quiet moment, the back scratching / vigorous rubbing started. I'd just like to say thank you to K-Mart for still selling Members Only jackets - you know, the really swishy, noisy kind? Have you ever tried to focus on something when the only thing you can hear is the swish-swish-swish of a back scratching near you?

And let's not forget the periodic slurpy kisses that were being exchanged, at which points the nose breathing became so unbearable that all I could do was shock them with my full-head-turn-straight-on-dagger-eyes. I became so distracted that my mind began rehearsing all the different scenarios of me going Pompei all over Wonder Nostrils.

Here's a thought: if you're a couple that is so in love that you can't stand to keep your hands or mouths off eachother for more than eighteen seconds at a time, then perhaps the movies isn't the place for you. Save it for Sacrament meeting.

I Am Here for Your Viewing Pleasure

Today, I stuck two baby carrots up my nose at work. One of the vice-presidents (yes, the very same VP from the communicator story) and a commercial superintendent were standing by as I proceeded to make a jackass of myself, but what else is new.

As I turned to face them, carrots in perfect snot-rocket-shooting position, the super said, "I'll give you a quarter if you eat them now." Imagine my disgust at his request. Does he think I'm a six year old? Does he think I'm going to allow myself to be a side show at the expense of my self-dignity? Who's the puppet master here! There was no way I was going to degregate myself any further in front of the VP.

Many things I may do, but whoring myself out for a quarter is not one of them. Bargaining however, is one of them. Needless to say, I walked away $0.75 richer and jangling my pockets all the way.

I Can't Do Anything Normal

Happy Boss's Day, Dave.

I hope you like the fake grapes that I glued to the envelope.

No Bones About It : The Departed

Last night, I had a hot date with my roommate-who-shall-remain-anonymous for reasons which will late become apparent. For the sake of clarity, I'll call her "Yanaj."

In the years that she's known me, Yanaj has always maintained a safe distance of caution when I recommend a movie to her, and vice versa. Neither of us has bad taste in movies, we just like very different things. Yanaj loves Star Trek and sc-fi, and I do not. Then again, I love blood and guts and blowing stuff up, and she does not.

This is illustrated best by the movies that we watch when no one else is around: Nicole (my old roommate who moved to Tejas) watches Full House and chick flicks when she's alone, Yanaj watches British comedies and Star Trek episodes, and I watch Predator and the Rambo movies. So you can see where there might be some differences of opinion.

Yanaj also hates scary movies, and actually turned this into a bargaining tool. Our conversation went something like this:

Bone Junior: "Please please PLEASE go see this scary movie with me! No one else wants to go!"
Yanaj: Contemplating momentarily before responding, "Not just no, but hell no."
Bone Junior: "Come on, PLEASE!!"
Yanaj: "If I go see this movie with you, then you have to go see the next sci-fi Trekky movie that comes out with me."
Bone Junior: Clenching fists in frustration before stomping out of the room.

Needless to say, we did not go to see that scary movie. It just wasn't worth it for me, but Yanaj is usually a good sport about tolerating my movies. There is no small amount of cajoling and pressuring on my part. I have to tell her over and over again that not only will she like it, but she'll love it so much that it hurts.

It warms the cockels of my heart when she actually likes something that I force upon her, especially when she's resisted and mocked for an extended length of time. Some of my more recent victories include Rocky; It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia; and Boondock Saints. She has yet to convince me to watch a single Star Trek episode.

So when I suggested that we go see The Departed and doubt flickered across her face, I warmed up my hands for the challenge. I knew it wouldn't take much to convince her; after all, making people do things is what I do best. I was surprised when she conceeded after only a few minutes of my desperate persuasion, and most of it involved me saying "Mark Wahlberg" over and over again without letting her get a word in edgewise. I also slipped in a few "Alec Baldwin"s in there - she's got a thing for The Shadow. I think she gave in out of pure exasperation, but score one for The Bone, and off we went.

The Departed was, in a nut shell, one of the most awesome movies I've seen this year. It's bloody and gutsy in classic Scorsese style, and I'll pay $7.50 any day to listen to Mark Wahlberg, Leonardo DiCaprio, and Matt Damon speaking in hot Southy accents. Which brings me to my next point: The DiCaprio.

I'll admit, I jumped on The DiCaprio teen heart-throb bandwagon, swooning over Romeo and Jack. But after puberty, I've never really found him to be particularly attractive, let alone sexy. And I haven't thought much of his acting career either, so he wasn't the major draw for me to see this movie. I was really surprised at his turn in The Departed - he's finally grown into his puddin' face and embodied sultry. As Nicole would say (like she did when she watched Wolverine peel out on his chopper in X3), "He is a tortured maaaaaaaaaaaaaan." One love, DiCaprio. Nice going - you even got Yanaj fired up, which is no small feat.

The intensity and thrill of The Departed is best summed up by Yanaj's reply to me before we left the sanctity of the theater.

Bone Junior: "Did you like it?"
Yanaj: Contemplating momentarily before responding, "Let me put it this way. If you were a guy, and you took me to see this movie, I'd definitely put out for you tonight."

Score two for The Bone.

Leave It To Me

One thing I hear a lot from my friends is, "Something like that would only happen to you." I'm more than happy to once again lend support to their theory.

On Wednesday morning, I was pulling a shirt on over my head and somehow my right arm got stuck and tangled in the sleeve. After a short yet heated struggle, my hand was wrestled free and shot out of the sleeve, punching myself in the chin like King Hippo

Don't ask, because I don't know how it happened either. All I know is that when I came to, I had a bloody lip and a stunned expression on my face. I got myself cleaned up and didn't think much more of it, until I had to convince everyone at work that I wasn't starring in my own Judith Light Lifetime: Television for Women (and Ryan Eichelberger) after-school special. No major damage done, and I was back on track.

I woke up Thursday morning and could barely move my jaw for the excruciating pain on the left side, just below my ear. I manually moved / cracked it around with my hand, figuring that I'd just slept on it wrong. (Yeah...I know. Slept on my jaw wrong? I know. Get off my back, it made sense at 6 A.M.) I didn't think the lockjaw had anything to do with my violent attack on myself from the day before.

After consulting with Bone-in-Law (Bone Senior's hubby/dentist in training), he assured me that I'd probably just strained the Temporo-Mandibular Joint. His advice? You guessed it: take ibuprofen.

Seeing as how this was all starting to sound vaguely familiar, I think you know what came next: surfing the interweb for more info about my condition. Jackpot.

Straining your TMJ is painful. So painful, in fact, that it's best to keep your hair out of your face to avoid any contact with the affected area. Try a super-handy-super-trendy banana clip to sweep hair up and away in a fashionable manner, and don't forget to feather those bangs. Never hang dangly earrings from anywhere other than your ear lobe, as clearly this is only causing more strain. Most importantly, always remain subtly soft and blurry around all your edges.

Many of the websites also recommend that I "relax muscles with moist heat." While this sounds helpful, I personally choose to avoid anything that uses the word moist, unless it is followed by delicious best.

But here it is, four days later, and I'm eating My First Pears baby food out of a jar because my jaw was KO'd out of place by yours truly. Which brings us full circle to the point of this post : something like this would only happen to me.