Willy Nilly

Halloween in da Ghetto

You know you live in the ghetto when you ask your elderly neighbor if they had any trick-or-treaters and they say, "What's that?" 

Music For the Masses

For the past two days, from my open window I could clearly hear the drums, guitars and screams from bands including The Killers, Interpol, Tegan & Sara, Kasabian and The Lemonheads.  The ballpark across the street hosted Across the Narrows - two days, four shows in two boroughs (the one in Coney Island had The Pixies and Built To Spill).   And being a young lass, it was all cool to me - but  much less so for the homeless population who  stirred from their nests like roaches and stood frozen in the streets and sidewalks, screaming to anyone who'll listen about the "got-damn noise!"  Er, when they weren't offering their "juice," that is. 

And though I could hear it from my apartment, it's always better to see a show so I wandered down a few times to watch through the open bars at the stadium.  Tonight while K and I watched Jet play, a random dude offered us free tickets so we went in and watched the rest of their set.  After Jet, the headlining band Oasis took the stage.  K says to me, "You know this song - they play it on Left of Center (my Sirius radio station)"  To which I responded, "No, I don't.  When Oasis comes on, I change the channel."  He agreed - Oasis is not our cup of tea (little British humor there, Folks).  And so we knew it was time to leave. 

In other news, I saw a homeless dude passed out in the middle of the street in front of our apartment tonight.  The cops shook him and kicked him, but he wouldn't get/wake up.  This is the same bum that took a shit in the street last week.  I wonder what's next...

And The Winner of the Worst Pick-Up Line Is...

You want some of this juice?!? 

- homeless dude (while emphatically grabbing his nuts)

Easy Tweezy

I have a new hobby: writing complaint letters.  You see, some people laughed when I wrote a letter to Sally Hansen about the defective tweezers I bought for a $1.79 - but a week later, they sent me a shiny new pair!  Who's laughing now, Suckas!

And now, the letter:

Dear CSR,

Friday, September 16, 2005, I purchased one pair of LA Cross Slant Tip Tweezers from a Pathmark grocery store.  When I opened the package, I was disappointed to find the tip was malformed and could not sufficiently grip hair.

While LA Cross offers a lifetime guarantee against defects, the replacement procedure is more trouble than the tweezers are worth ($1.79).  And while it wouldn't make financial sense to box and mail them (insured and postage paid) along with a $.50 check for shipping and handling, I did want to voice my dissatisfaction with this product.

I imagine most consumers wouldn't bother to write a letter such as this one - they'd just throw the tweezers in the trash.  However, it was important to me to write not because $1.79 was a lot of money, but because it was a waste of money.

As it stands, I would be very reluctant to buy additional items from the LA Cross - Sally Hansen product line.  If the tweezers were replaced with no out-of-pocket cost to myself, my trust in Sally Hansen could be restored.

Thank you for your attention to this matter - I am awaiting your response.

Sincerely,

Willy Nilly

Whatever - it worked.  And now, let's all go buy their products!  Yay! :)

The 80 Year Old Virgin

After eggs and pancakes at Perkins, Kevin and I went to catch a matinee movie.  It was only 11:00 AM, and even though the theater hadn't opened yet, a few eager patrons were lined up at the ticket window.  First in line was a determined, old woman, leaning her bones and her walking-cane against the counter.  Behind granny stood a young family with fidgety kids, then us. 

I was feeling secure in our movie selection - certain that we would be the first in the theater seeing 40 Year Old Virgin, hence securing prime seating.  But either granny had a fit of dementia or her grandkids were in the cast of the movie because when we entered theater 3, there she was - seated in the spacious handicapped row (where Kevin and I always sit because we're inconsiderate and going to hell for taking seats from the disabled).    So we claimed our seats a little way down the row and munched on Whoppers waiting for the show to start. 

And when it did, I was a bit distracted with her there.  I kept craning to see if she was laughing at the funny parts.  She wasn't, but we were - great movie!

And Now, Deep Thoughts (by Willy Nilly)

Hello. 

That is all.

Pínche Jota

Lay your fantasies to rest, Imaginative Readers!  No, I was not detained at the border with chiva-filled condoms coursing through my digestive tract.  Though that would be much more exciting, I'm blaming my absence on a case of back-to-life-blues.  I'm sure you're familiar with the syndrome - you know, where you're reminded how much daily life blows and why you wanted that vacation in the first place, immediately followed by the sad realization that it will be approximately 350 days until your next one.  And then if you don't slit your wrists, a week later you're mostly better and back to normal (whatever that is).

That said, our vacation was amazing, fabulous, fantastic, superb, incredible, wonderful, marvelous, unbelievable and good.  Yes, that's right - it was good.  Damn good.  For starters, we stayed in a fancy-pants condo right on the beach.  In the mornings we'd open the patio doors and watch the sun rise over the Pacific while kamikaze pelicans dive-bombed for their breakfast.  Then as the day grew hotter, the beach grew busier with people sprawling onto the sand and into the surf.  Parasailers dotted the sky and in one Real TV moment, a kid crashed right onto the beach!  Of course I thought she was dead - or at least had multiple fractures - but she got up and walked away unharmed.  I didn't let that detail stop me from using it as an excuse on the parasail guys with their guerilla sales tactics, "No way, man - I saw a girl crash!")

We rode horses and jet skis, swam and  suntanned (gasp!), explored secluded beaches and crowded markets, shopped and ate, and then we ate some more.  I won't bore you with the details, but they're seared into my memory.  Oh, and you can check out the photos if you're so inclined. 

In back-to-life news, Kevin had a mucocele surgically excised from his lip.  It is stitched and swollen, and now he has an excuse to eat ice cream and take drugs.  Lucky bastard.

In other back-to-life news, the kitty crap-shack had stalled out while we were gone (Premium litter is key, it seems) much to Léona's dismay.  Thanksfully, it is now back in action and working well - just like the rest of us.... <big sigh>

Caca de Gata

In celebration of our one-year wedding anniversary, we're flying to Puerto Vallarta today:

We'll be gone one whole glorious week!

While we're away, friends will stop in to check on the cat - making sure she has food and water, but believe it or not - no one wants to scoop her litterbox!  And since she can make a whole lot of dookie in a single week, scooping is a must.  The solution?  PetMate's Purrforma Plus Self Cleaning Litter Appliance. 

It is the Cadillac of catboxes: huge, sleek and luxurious.  Note the white, shag carpet leading out of the crap shack.  Wow!

We'll know how well it works in a week - keep your fingers crossed that we don't return to find kitty mangled in the poo claw after an infra-red sensor malfunction. 

Adios, amigos!

Gizoogle, Beyatch!

While looking at my daily stats and referrers, I came across this: http://sites.gizoogle.com/?url=http://willynilly.typepad.com/willy_nilly/.  I don't know what genius came up with this Gizoogle business, but it's the shizzle.  Fer rizzle.

See a more memorable excerpt here:

Eat In - Eat Out

While I twirled mah lo mizzle wit mah fizzle n Kevin picked tha mushrooms out of his fried rice, a young woman escorted by an old dawg were seated at a nearby table.  As she was clearly not his drug deala (they were different as nizzight n day), we could only assume it was a date.  And it must've been they fiznirst date judg'n from tha conversizzles thizzay drifted across tha quiet restaurant:

"Do you like shrimp?"

"Yes."

"Do you like chicken?"

"Yes."

To tha gangsta "We'll takes chicken wit garlic sauce n beef wit broccoli ta start.  I diznon't kizzy how mizzle she can eat yet."

Bizzle ta tha girl, "Smile.  No, smile.  I wizzle ta see tizzle gap between yo teeth.  So Sexy.  You K-N-to-tha-izzow wizzle else is sexy?  Bushy Eyebrows.  You need ta gizzy them bushy."

I laughed out loud as he gestured ta her wizzle groomed eye area, petition'n her ta let it all hizzy out.  It was quite tha scene - tha married senior citizen (complete wit rhymin' ring) n his young date fo` hire, gangsta mingl'n in tha Chinese chiznip bowl.  I'm blunt-rollin' they should've jiznust ordered take-out fizzle tha motel room...

Try it - you'll like it...

What's Next - Locusts?

I'm home from work early again - this time it's a power outage.  It's isolated to certain parts of the island (obviously) including the boss's house.  And if you detect a certain amount of glee in my "voice," it's because the boss left us to roast in the dark while he went home to garden. 

You see, the power went out around two, the boss left before three, and the rest of us held the fort until four.  He surely would've let us bake until five, but my coworker called him at home imploring him for an early release. 

So what if he's got a pool?  I've got air conditioning!