Phablet: Yes.

Oh man. The Phablet. There’s nothing cooler than the word. Well, there’s nothing cooler than the word, except for maybe the actual thing. Because the word really doesn’t do the thing justice. The phablet proves once and for all that size does matter. If you thought that the end goal of cell phone technology was to end up with a Zoolander sized phone, you might as well call yourself Miss Cleo. Clearly, you couldn’t see the future past your fake Jamaican accent.

Zoolander phone: No

Phabwhat?

So what does phablet mean? It’s one of those awesome smoosh together words, like Brangelina or… I can’t think of another one. But this one is a combination of “phone” and “tablet”. It’s got a screen that’s large and in charge. It has an Android operating system with attitude. It does everything well, and it knows it. This phone does not have self esteem issues. It’s phabulous and it knows it.

Size

I realize that some of the reviews out there say that this thing looks weird when you use it as a phone. Perhaps it’s the fact that I’m a 6 foot tall woman that makes it not so weird for me. It’s as proportionate to my hand/face as my friend’s iPhone was to hers. So if you’re tiny, this might not be something you’re comfortable with. It did seem giant at first, but I got used to it’s size in less than a week. Now when I use it, I think about how nice it is that it’s so much bigger. It’s easier to read. Websites look great on it. Texting on the giant screen is a dream. And since it also doubles as a kindle, reading on it is fantastic. These are all things that weren’t so true about my ole iPhone.

These are all things that weren’t so true about my ole iPhone. That thing just got me instant access to a cult. Drinking the Kool Aid? I’m pretty sure there’s an app for that.

I realize that this isn’t as ridiculous as the posts usually are on here. I figured I’d put something that you can use on this blog today. I’m writing it down as community service on the sheet I’ll be giving my parole officer today. Don’t say I never did anything nice for you.

If you know me, you know that I’ve been home-free (an optimistic view of homelessness) for several months now. While this gypsy, hippie lifestyle really suits me/gives me a good excuse to skip on shaving and brushing my hair, sometimes I get a little wistful to have a homestead to call my own and to decorate as I wish. That got me thinking about the ways people decorate their homes and what it says about them as individuals. Let’s have a look at some hilarious home decor today, shalt we?

Decor That Says “I Probably Have a Problem”

Do you like to get your drink on? Do you want everyone who enters your domain to know about it? Well, there are some great decor solutions you can use to let visitors know that you’re probably going to get belligerent and accuse your husband of being an FBI agent/having an affair as the night wears on.

Yesterday I was on a walk back from the grocery store and I noticed that one of the yards I passed had wine bottles shoved into the lawn, making what I’d like to dub “The Wino Fence.” Only half of the fence was complete and I thought about what a great excuse to get wine drunk as often as possible. Every time someone asks if you’ve had enough, you can always point to the wino fence and slur about your mission to keep the rabbits out and be eco friendly.

Decor That Says “I Wish I was Born In The Middle Ages”

Hark! Who goes there? You shall not pass! Guards, a solicitor is approaching the unpenitrable moat! Draw up the draw bridge at once! What do you mean you didn’t install hinges?! What say ye? Just for looks?! Off with your head!

Ooh.. Girl Scout cookies! I’ll take six Thin Mints. Oh, don’t mind him, he just had a little run in with the guillotine.

How do you decorate?

Little Darcy thinking about her teacher being torn apart by rabid raccoons.

Everyone needs to day dream, sometimes its the only thing stopping us from throwing ourselves out of the nearest window, regardless of it’s height and weather or not it even opens. Sometimes crashing through a plate of glass and plummeting 25 stories to the playground behind the grade school next door is better than listening to even one more moment of your divorce hearing.  If you’re worried about not having a very good imagination, I say you’re an idiot. Everyone already spends a lot of time picturing what the people around them look like naked, so work with that. People being naked is fun for any occasion, so try and picture that 80 year old woman in front of you in line doing something neat and naked, like putting a new roof on your house, or diving face first into a slip and slide. See? I bet your mind is already running wild. Why don’t you imagine the most and least attractive people in the room having sex in front of their parents? This is a good way to calm your nerves before a speech, since nothing could be more awkward than that. Sometimes it’s fun to imagine an enemy of yours having a bowel movement in front of everyone they know. This is pretty gross, but thinking about that a-hole from English class butt sputtering in front of 150 people is sure to bring a smile to anyone face. Try and picture your horrible roommate getting a study abroad scholarship to someplace like Thailand, getting busted with drugs, and having to spend a few years in a labor camp ala Brokedown Palace.  The beauty of day dreaming is that it’s all up to you. You get to create a world in your head in which anything you can dream of is happening. Suppose you’ve been having a hard time making up your mind about something? Spend some time day dreaming to get a better handle on what you want, even if it’s subconsciously.

I guess we’re all just grown up five year olds, so that blog post title doesn’t really mean much. But, you know what I’m sayin’. I’m saying that if the movie Big were about a a sexy lady writer who’s slowly but surely tuning into Jon Candy, instead of about a kid who plays with a cool fortune teller machine and turns into Tom Hanks, it would pretty accurately describe my life at this moment. That might have been a poorly constructed sentence, but since it has the word candy in it, I’m just going to leave it alone.

Right now, I kid you not, I’m at a classic Chicago restaurant in the heart of down town. I’m not kidding about that, and that’s why it doesn’t sound like a joke. It’s just a fact. It’s such a fact that I’m not going to tell you which one in fear that one of you just might be stalking me.

I’m also not kidding when I tell you that I came in here, asked if there was an outlet and instantly ordered chocolate cake and french fries. When I saw my waitress’ face, I instantly remembered that this combo is only normal in my mind because I’ve been planning it for an hour while I wandered around the city hunting for chocolate cake. The fries were a product of the long wander and the smell of too many corner McDonalds.

I start to panic, but then make up a story about going on a diet tomorrow. Which, since I don’t lie, I will now have to do.

So, as I sit here, writing a blog in a restaurant, like a T-Rex over a tiny computer, drinking water with no ice, staring at a plate of nearly gone steak fries and another plate of mostly eaten cake, planning to go low carb tomorrow. I wonder… what in the f*ck has happened with my life. I have a chocolate frosting mustache for crying out loud.

Perhaps since I’ve been on the five year old diet for the past few days, I should swing over to the eighty year old diet. Will somebody please smash out my teeth and feed me mashed bananas through a straw?

"I just wish he would stay exactly the way he is forever. There's absolutely nothing that I would change about him." "Say whaaat?!"

Like any good American citizen and bro lover, I thoroughly enjoy a good “That’s what she said.” Call me low brow. Call me no brow. Call me uni-brow. If done correctly, a well timed “that’s what she said” will still make me giggle. But it always leaves me thinking. I mean, what about the things she didn’t say. Sometimes what you don’t say can mean more than what you do say. So, today, I’m here to celebrate the less popular, but equally amazing “That’s NOT what she said.”

You may not be familiar with this inversion, so let’s get you caught up. Here’s how Urban Dictionary describes and explains the phrase:

Now that you’re all up to speed, I can share the inspiration for this post with you. A couple of months ago, a friend and I  got hammered and wrote a list of “That’s NOT what she said” when we were at the bar. We thought this idea was so original and hilarious, we conspired to start a Twitter feed dedicated to it. Then we were going to dedicate our lives to that Twitter feed. Since we eventually got wasted, we naturally forgot all about it. Well, today, I found that list and it is drunkenly fantastic. Check out some of the brilliant one liners that we came up with:

• I reeeeeally want to join your fantasy football league this year.
• No. By all means… Please continue with the date rape.
• Yeah, you can borrow my jock strap.
• It’s cool. I don’t like big penises.
• Your ex is way hotter than me.
• You’re married? Awesome!
• A threesome with your much hotter ex sounds like a great idea!
• When I told you I cried to get out of that ticket, I actually meant that I blew that police officer.
• Is there anymore chloroform left on that rag?

"I'm writing the next great American novel. Hand me my feather..." -Writers

They always say to write what you know, and even though I know who you got herpes from, I’ll do you a favor and keep that to myself.

Now if you need an expert on all things writery and hippy-ish, I’m probably your gal.  Last week I talked about those awesome videos, and today I’d really like to get something going on the Sh*t ____ Say video trend.

What’s that you say? I missed the trend? What do you know about trends? Are you an official YouTube Trend Ender? That’s what I thought. Those don’t exist….

Actually that’s a great idea. Wouldn’t it be awesome for some dumb a** to sit around in his bedroom screaming, “Stop making different versions of the Nyan Cat video, for Pop Tart’s sake?!”

I’m sure that’s already happening and perhaps, that duche has already called out the time of death on Sh*t ____ Say videos. But I still wanna. Obviously, I’m feeling pretty obsessive about them at this point.

Since I like to subject you to all of my hair brained schemes/half witted ideas before I air them out in a public forum, I’d like to go ahead and put you through that again today. Don’t whine to me about wasting your time… You read blogs.

Sh*t Freelance Writers Say (super rough idea draft):

• I’m a Writer.
• Freelance
• SEO
• Blogging
• Copy
• That means search engine optimization
• [on the phone] (optimistic and reserved like she just got the gig) I can get that to you tomorrow!
•  [freelance writer chick eating chips and watching TV in her jammies] I can’t. I have a deadline.
• [freelance writer chick putting on make up] I really shouldn’t. I have a deadline.
• [freelance writer chick drunk in a club] (yelling over loud club music) I totally have a deadline tomorrow!
• [on the phone, still wearing what she was at the club] I can get that to you tomorrow. Sorry.
• [in jammies] It’s Thursday? Holy sh*t!
• Resumes
• Web Writing
• Words
• [@ coffee with a friend] I said if you want it that way, you should just write it yourself.
• Descriptions of sheds
• Facebook status updates
• Erotic stuff
• [on the phone. Pulls the phone away from her ear because she's getting yelled at.] (terrified) I can… uhhh… get it to you tomorrow?
• [on the street holding a sign that says "will write for food"]

Sh*t, I don’t know about you guys, but I’ve really been digging the whole Sh*t ____ Say phenomenon. It meets my three qualifications for awesome:

1. The videos are made by amateurs
2. The camera work is usually sh*tty
3. It’s barely legal

Look, I know that you probably reading this begrudgingly because me or one of my cronies broke into your house and we’re holding you hostage using ether on a rag. I’m sorry that we’re now forcing you to click around the site and my cheap recipe blog to make myself feel like a more legit blogger.

At any rate, I need your help. I have a first draft of my Second City sketch that I’d like you to check out:

“That’s why I’m not into Matthew McConaughey. He seems like the kind of dude that would play with a bunch of dogs and have sex with you without washing his hands.” -My Buddy Krista

He does kind of seem like that kind of dude. Is it wrong that picturing that filthy drum-circle-starting, shower-a-month, hippie playing with a bunch of wet basset hounds and St. Bernards, and jumping straight in the sack kind of turned me on? Is it? Is it really? Whatever. Tell me that you wouldn’t do it.

Tell me that if Matthew McConaughey said (imagine it with the accent), ” Hey guuurl. I think you’ve got, like, a really powerful aura. But I can only bone you if you’re free when I’m on my way home from the dog park,” that you wouldn’t say yes to that.

You totally would. Don’t front. Even with the accent? Sure you would. What if you were at gun point?

On the other hand, would you really want to bone an OCD, meticulously clean, creepishly bald, but still rocking a soul patch, too-close-to-looking-like-that-dude-Powder-from-the-movie-Powder kind of dude like Howie Mandel?

These are your only two choices and you must pick one. It’s the most even match up on the face of the planet.

Representing dirty stinky men: Matthew McConaughey

In Mr.Clean’s bald and spotless corner: Howie Mandel

Who are you going to pick?

Matthew McConaughey? That’s what I thought. I figured in that totally equal match up, that was not slanted in any way, that you would make the rational choice and choose the dirty man.

Okay, so maybe that’s not a fair match up. That’s kinda like matching sexy Robocop up against a chubby forensic psychologist and making them fight to the death. I give. I argued that dirty dudes were sexier last night and I wanted you to agree with me so that I could rub it in Krista’s face. I’ll just tell her that that’s what happened anyway.

So are you into dirty dudes? Or are you a clean man kind of chick?

I’m pretty exhausted this morning having tied one on a few too many times already this week. Yep, I’ve also been working hard trying to make friends with the comedy school kids, doing drunken yoga, getting called a hoochie while fully dressed on the street at ten a.m., etc. So instead of trying to figure out what to do with this god forsaken, directionless, heedless, godless, blog today, I’m going to do what most comedy bloggers do to fuel their weekly posting, and I’m going to stuff your noggin full of god forsaken, useless, directionless, heedless, godless meme. Thank god for godless meme.

What is this meme, you ask? Well, maybe we should start at the beginning since you obviously have been residing under a stone somewhere in another solar system for the past forever. This here, gadgety thing, that your eyes are now permanently glued to, is a computer. A long, long time ago, someone (I think it was Al Gore) figured out how to tie all of the computers in the world together. Now we can look forward to living in a future that is a lot closer to the Matrix than the Jetsons. The end.

Oh wait, I forgot to explain what meme is… Well, the word meme has some cultural and scientific background that goes waaaay back. But really, these days, it’s just the sh*t we all send to each other. It’s the dumb crap that we email, tweet, post on facebook, and tell our friends that they have to see. It’s the way we pretend that we’re creative. “Did you see what I photoshopped on that Scumbag Steve meme? That sh*t’s legendary!!! LOLMFAOBTQ!”

If you still have no idea what I’m talking about, you’re proabably lucky. You don’t have meme loving friends. Congratulations. Either that, or you don’t have friends, in which case… bummer. But I’m here for you. I’m sharing some old meme, so you can be in the loop, even though this loop is super old.

Anywho, let’s take a walk down meme-ory lane. See what I did there?

Scumbag Steve

Y U NO… Guy

     

        

 So, I got out of my super hilarious first class in comedy last week with fresh eyes. Beware, free form comedy blog readers, the world of comedy is a structured world and you have to see it as such. Yep. It turns out, the comedy world isn’t all sh*ts and giggles. I mean, a lot of it is. There were a few people in my class who definitely already rate really high on the list of the funniest people I know. But I’m going to use this blog to do some comedy exercises. You can follow along in your book! Let’s learn funny stuff together.

One of the first thing we’re focusing on is that comedy pieces (even jokes) have to have a beginning, a middle and an end. It sounds simple, but I’m pretty guilty of the ramble (see my vegan recipe blog for proof), so putting this into practice takes a little work for me. Once you have the outline, you can fill it in with the funny stuff.

So let’s make up a quick story with two characters.

Characters: An alligator and a giraffe

Beginning: They wake up next to each other.

Middle: Alligator tries to figure out how he got ther.

End: They toss the covers over their heads and fool around again.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Alligator slapped at his alarm, but it wasn’t where he left it. He opened his eyes and realized that he wasn’t in his own room. His mouth tasted like gazelle jerky and dry elephant crap and his tiny brain twisted around in his noggin. “Did I get that drunk last night?” he thought. Alligator had, in fact, gotten very drunk last night. He rolled over and his paw hit a long furry tube. “What the eff is that?” he thought.

Giraffe snapped his head up like a whip at the end of his neck.

“Ooh! You scared me baby Al. How did you sleep?” asked Giraffe as he started giving baby Al a temple massage with his hoofs.

“I’m not gay. How did I get here?” asked Alligator.

“Of course you aren’t, Ally. You’re a CIA agent. I picked you up at a gay bar,” said Giraffe.

“Oh, that makes sense. Now come here and give me a piece of that disproportionate ass of yours,” said Alligator.

Alligator closed the blinds while giraffe pulled the covers over their heads. And the two began to engage in homosexual inter-species sex.

The end.

Now that was a crappy story. I’m not really feeling it today. But you get the point. Use the beginning middle and end and see what you can come up with.

Do you have a quick beginning middle and end story or exercise that you’d like to share?

I did the research for this post weeks ago. That’s right. I research for this free form comedy blog. That’s what makes it so hilarious.

I completely forgot about these videos until I went into the history of my youtube account. I was curious to see what kind person I am based on my recent mix of internet videos. What I found was unsettling: a creepy amount of Jason Sudeikis interviews, the Rebecca Black ‘Friday’ video (yeah, I’m still watching Rebekka), chakra chanting, Bon Iver, Shit Girls Say, and these little beauties. Now that you all know I’m a 14 year old, sad-shamanic-Sudeikis-stalker inside, I can also admit that for one day I was obsessed with watching the main characters from Star Trek sing ridiculous sh*t.

I’m not sure what planted the seed, but I saw a video of Leonard Nemoy singing this awesome song about Bilbo Baggins. Leonard Nemoy + Lord of the Rings+ catchy tune= Trifecta of awesome!

I don’t know how you feel about sexy old men, but I’m pretty sure Leonard Nemoy is the sexiest older man alive. What I wouldn’t give to quickly sway with our foreheads pressed together (if you didn’t watch the video, that probably sounds pretty gross). Now, onto Shatner!

Seriously, Bill Shatner’s interpretation of this song is amazing. But now we’re going to pass the baton over to George Takei, the notoriously homosexual cast member of Star Trek. This song is extremely holiday spirited, beautifully sung, and most definitely NSFW…

It’s a little late, but Happy Holidays! Here’s to 2012 being the most hilarious year yet!

Dear Niecey Piecy,

I love you! I love you. More differently, I like you. This is surprising because I think your mom is crazy, and a f*ckin’ know it all (squeeze my french), and she can drink booze in her coffee all morning, but you know, I just want another glass of wine at dinner and she all gives me that blank stare like, “Kathy. You’re an alcoholic.” She didn’t say it, but we all saw it, right? She said it with her eyes.

And I’m like, “What? Can someone say Kahlua at 6 a.m, Terry? 6 a.m. And don’t give me that ‘it’s the holidays’ shit. 6 a.m. is six a.m. is sex a.m. in other languages.” But at least I had the balls to say it out loud. I’m not going to hide behind my eyeballs. Some sh*t just needs to be said.

I love you and I want to share somethings with you that you should know. One. Everyone should be gin. It’s gin, it’s gin it’s gin gin gin. Have you met my friend gin? I’ll let you try some. I’ll walk by the kids table and I’ll pretend I’m going to get you some more water. And I’m going to give you gin. So don’t share it with your little cousins. One time, I accidently got Petey drunk and Dan told me he was ganna call the parent police. And I was like, “Damn it, Dan. He’s my son. Just leave it! Leave it!” And he didn’t say anything after that, because I showed him that I wasn’t ganna be a push over like Terry.

And another thing that you should know is that those tits aren’t going to pay for college. Well, they will, but your ma is such a biotch. She’d be a judgment factory if you used em, and shook em like your money maker for money. So apply for scholarships for women. Cause you have to go to college. Look what happen to your Terry biotch mom. She’s like not gone to college and she doesn’t know how to open the newspaper without breaking her hands off.  So, go to college. Go to school. Be good. Be good at school and at college. And remember, when I give you that glass, that’s going to have gin in it. So don’t tell your mom and don’t give it to Petey, otherwise the shit’s going to hit the space heater. Okay okay okay. I love you i love you i love you.

Merry Christmas,

Aunt Kathy

p.s. IOU Christmas present. Take the gin as down payment lol hahalsdfkoalool

Dudes! I got accepted to The Second City comedy school in Chicago today! I know what you’re thinking “Of course you did Corinne. You’re a crazy funny gal with awesome jokes who is also prettier than everyone in the world who can kill a bear with your own hands.”

I know. It was a long and trying road. But I finally got accepted. It was a huge accomplishment for me. What was the application process like, you ask? Oh. You know. A little of this. Little of that. They had to make sure that I was as funny as Tina Fey, Amy Pohler, Bill Murray, Dan Akroyd and other miscellaneous funny people. Thank goodness for me, I am.

By accepted, I mean I typed in my name and address online and they accepted my $300. So, while it may not be an accomplishment, it’s something to look forward to. That’s right… In three months, I will be three hundred dollars funnier.

Maybe that will help me figure out what the eff to do with this blog. I mean, really, it could use some direction. Looking through it is depressing. I remember thinking all of that shiz was funny at the time. Mainly it’s just rambly and weird. It sounds like I’m trying to be funny while applying for weird scholarships. I wanted this to be an original comedy blog, but I may have to switch over to a found funny kind of format.

Right now, it’s 4:21 am and I’m paying for some hardcore traveling, jetlag, and a little bit of poor time management. I’m slaving away to finish off my last week and everyone else is a few hours away from starting theirs. Oh man, is this a blog where I’m supposed to bitch about my life? Great! I accomplished that too.

Okay. Sorry if you didn’t laugh at this post. My bad. I’m so tired. I’m going to go to bed now, and when I wake up, I’m going to be Mike Meyers. That’s included in the registration fee.