Delicious determination…and threats

There were two men that introduced me to a pleasure that was so extreme that it resulted in full body ecstasy, tears of joy, and post-bliss bedwetting. And they were armed with an aphrodisiac more powerful than rophenal or Mexican fly.

Those two men were:

I definitely want something of yours inside me.

And their weapon:

Close enough

To clarify: it was White Russian ice cream by Messrs Ben & Jerry, in case you thought it was Jeff Bridges flavored ice cream.

I am not lying, when it comes to the mystical magical nature of this ice cream: it’s like all of life’s happiness broken down into dairy and sugar. There would be no hesitation if given the option between orgasms and White Russian ice cream; the ice cream is better than any orgasm I have ever had. Consuming White Russian ice cream has given me a more sacred experience than I received in eighteen years of private parochial education.

And like everything that makes me happy, one day White Russian ceased to exist.

The resting ground for everything good in this world

Who is that I see in this bullshit graveyard?

Oh right, the only thing in this fucking world that brought me joy.

A well adjusted person would move on and potentially find a different ice cream to enjoy.

Love means never accepting the limitations of death.

But since I never claimed to be well adjusted, or mentally sound, I started emailing the website pretty frequently (twice a month).

When faced with defeat some people might be satisfied with just writing to the email suggestion page that B&J have on their page. And then, when nothing comes from it those same people might not, say, start an aggressive letter writing campaign.

But, I have more time and less to live for than normal people. So, I started writing the company letters.

Here is the first one

(OBEY MY COMMANDS BEN & JERRY)
Dear whoever has taken over for Ben and Jerry,

It has been a few weeks since I’ve written to the company, but I am back with more vim and verve than ever. For awhile I had been writing on a weekly basis with little to no luck pertaining to a topic dear to me. I was disheartened and gave up the crusade, but now I believe that my lack of success might have been due to the former Ben & Jerry’s inability to tackle every issue that might be brought to the company’s attention.

But now, while Messrs Ben & Jerry are enjoying their retirement, I feel that a corporation might be more willing to handle my, meager though important, requests (demands).

White Russian.

That is all. Bring back White Russian ice cream. I can detail why this is so important and how it will bring about even greater financial success for this company.

1. A great part of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream is that they were among the first to start loading ice cream, already an unhealthy treat, full of candy. I have not experienced a B & J ice cream that didn’t ensure me a sugar high and future trip to the dentist. But Ben & Jerry’s is all about pushing the envelope, like a ice cream version of Madonna! It is so important to reinvent one’s self and what better way to do that then to offer the complete opposite of what made the ice cream so wonderful to begin with; no candy. Just smooth sailing ice cream that wasn’t chocolate or vanilla. Brilliant move! It was what drew me to this flavor to begin with and I am sure that others are with me; Ben and Jerry should offer something that isn’t the equivalent to an entire floor at Willy Wonka’s factory but isn’t as boring as chocolate or vanilla.

2. Use this flavor as some sort of social change. I completely support all of the honorable social efforts that this company so deeply values. I value them too! Only I would value them MORE if I could eat White Russian at the same time. There has GOT to be some sort of cause, social or otherwise, that can be linked with this ice cream. Think deeply, be creative. Give twenty five cents from every White Russian sold to a favorite charity or have it benefit US and Russian relations. Use the money to send disenfranchised American students toRussiato see their way of life and vice versa. You guys iron out the details, but I think we have something here.

3. Get the Coen brothers in on this! Use your vast resources and get them to somehow name drop this flavor. What better publicity for Ben & Jerry’s than two academy award winning brothers discussing an ice cream flavor based off the favorite drink of one of their most famous characters, the Dude? Or get Jeff Bridges to do it, the Dude with the ice cream. I don’t know how far the B & J cash goes but I think by getting a celebrity endorsement White Russian ice cream doesn’t have to stop with just ice cream; I see tote bags and t-shirts in the company’s future.

I think I have made some very valid points on how important White Russian ice cream is to the future of Ben & Jerry’s and I hope you strongly consider bringing back this flavor.

If I don’t hear from you in a week you can be sure that I will write another email.

All of my love,

*As of now, I have not heard back from the company pertaining to my demands. *

 

Irish…eat your children

I love how holidays are documented on other lifestyle blogs. They’re cute as hell and the blogger is forever making some holiday themed craft. Go them! And the next day (or sometimes even a play-by-play while the holiday is happening) a thousand little instagram pictures are birthed and displayed all over the fucking internet.

Happy Easter!

But, since I have finally re-covered from my hangover, this is about my St. Patrick’s day…you will notice that the lives of my mates are also quite magical…

We do fanatically adorable and interesting things:

Like playing “chicken.” There are no winners

Or…this?

I honestly have no clue. At this point of the evening I had thrown a bottle of whiskey at an abandoned asbestos factory, and was then convinced that I had killed a bird in the process. My friends told me it was more likely a kitten that was killed.

I don’t even know what this is, but it’s pissing horrifying.

Hmmm. sweating a bunch in this horrifying photo that looks like the beginning of a snuff film. By this point of the evening I had taken a disco nap and woke up to find these shenanigans (hey! It is St. Patrick's Day) going on in the kitchen.

And then the next day you take a picture of what poverty looks like.

In this case it looks like pretzels for lunch and the many many many packets of McDonald’s ketchup that I ended up stealing…when I stole the entire condiment rack. And then got asked to never return to McDonald's hallowed establishment

 

Happy holidays, from my friends to you!

 

 

Work Attire

Some offices have corporate casual. I think my office does as well. I have chosen to ignore the corporate part of that sentiment and focus on the casual. Sometimes I am so casual in the morning while dressing that I just randomly pick clothes off of the floor. And I end up coming to work in a t-shirt that is an homage to the Disney movie about singing dancing  news boys

Oh – you know!

So, I wore my Newsies t-shirt to work. But this shirt not only was emblazoned with “Never fear, Brooklyn is here!” but also completely covered in my blood. From when I fell. On my face. Incredibly hard.  The blood clots changed the charming Disney sentiment  from one of encouragement to menace.

Carry the banner, ya'll!

Enter the psyche of my cats

My cats have been introduced in this blog already, as I prefer them to almost all carbon-based life forms. Their antics have been documented due to their insatiable need to ruin a night of pampering; and their cuteness has been lauded as a way for me to give into maternal instincts and still drink gin.

But until now their personalities have been little discussed. So let me introduce you to…George!

when Satan takes feline form.

George is evil. Pure evilness. That is pretty much the extent of his personality. Except one time, while I was sleeping on my back, he scratched my neck near the corroded artery. Another time he scratched me across my wrist making me look like I am a cutter to my co-workers and friends. Well, I guess those weren’t personality traits but rather illustrations of his wickedness.

Ah, George.

 

Following St. Patrick’s day: a post holiday failure

I noticed that a lot of other lifestyle blogs, the happy and well documented ones, had updated on their St. Patrick’s Day celebration. And, I will certainly be doing that once the full intensity of the hangover finally subsides (it involves me getting thoroughly and firmly kicked out of a McDonald’s). But until then I thought I would update on my after-St. Patrick’s day celebration. It went like this:

Got into my city’s subway (The El) and I have to admit that despite the greasiness of my hair and the outpouring of sweat due to my hangover I looked pretty hot. However, the gentlemen that moved in front of me to show me his erection was not the sort of attention I was looking for.

So I moved from one subway car to the next. Despite feeling pretty violated, I was still alright. A homeless gentleman made his way into the car and stood next to me. I couldn’t help but notice that the puffy coat he was donning had a large rip, and dirty feathers were pouring out of it. Poor man. And then one of the yellowing feathers floated out of the coat, into the thick subway air, and landed – and stuck – right to my lip glossed lips.

Happy St.Patrick’s day

The opportunity to be whatever I like!

No garbage can is safe from me. People throw away a shocking amount of very cool things. While I don’t endlessly route around in pails of garbage, rifling through old food and cat liter, I have been known to dumpster dive from time to time. And, often times, I find freaking awesome things.

Even more importantly, when people come over to my apartment they are stunned to see some of my, perceived, achievements. This week I have been gifted the ability to, now, be a champion bowler. Go ME! Go GARBAGE!

Hidden talents!

A very special You Life

You Life has been in mourning since leap year. The Monkees were an integral part of my development and are, most likely, why I am the way I am today (the good parts of me, not the parts that get confused for a homeless person).

And while it might seem unusual for a twenty-something to be so effected by this loss, I can confidently say that many life decisions I have made are because of the Monkees.

It explains my relationships

It shouldn’t matter that I was always a Peter fan:

 I am taking the Davy news EXTREMELY hard. It has manifested, mostly, in crying and listening to “Daydream Believer” on an endless, tear stained, loop.

Also, it might have manisfested in spending an entire day at work making this. You Life never claimed they were an artist, but their love is true