Amazon is a wealth of funny shit far cooler than anything i could ever think up of

It's true. For all those who have been complaining about my lack of blogging (Yes D and EricM, I am addressing you, but I'm sure there are many others quietly seething in the background and pricking their Girl Voodoo Dolls), I have good reason. In no short order, my friends have started to imply that they don't really enjoy my exposing their sexual exploits (I can't imagine why), guys reallly don't want to date a girl who is remotely funny (even if they say they do, they are secretly unbearably uncomfortable about the whole "thing"), but most importantly, because I have realized Amazon commenters are funnier than I am and it gives me hives.

Legit.

Check this out- commentary on PlayMobils fun little Security Checkpoint Toy.

Allow me to give you some highlights:

By
Gwen P. (Douglassville, PA, USA) - What better way to teach the next generation how to behave in a police state then with a toy such as this? I'm really hoping that they come out with a toy in which the kids can play "interregator". Think of all the fun the little folks can have waterboarding those who "hate our freedom".

By

Delia (Eugene, OR)- I especially appreciated the enclosed signed photo of Michael Chertoff and his letter explaining how necessary it is to start educating today's youth early with toys like these, especially as their elders just don't seem to be taking the whole thing seriously

By
Gen. JC Christian, patriot (Tremonton, UT United States) -
Durability: Fun: Educational: I like the basic idea. I applaud Playmobile for attempting to provide us with the tools we need to teach our children to unquestioningly obey the commands of the State Security Apparatus

There are more. Needless to say, I've been brutally unseated from my snarky throne. I'm going to brush my shoulders off and try to recover this week though- fingers crossed my Darling Minions.

"Why he hasn't called in a week": the Definitive Guide

I either won or lost the game, depending on your view of things

This morning, I was reminded of this story by a young man (we'll call him S) with whom I attended Analyst Training 2 years ago. He had a wicked sense of humor and was stuck with shouldering the dumbest group in the class. This endeared him to me immediately, as I too am wickedly hilarious and was shouldering the burden of a German playboy, a gentleman from the Johannesburg office who had a penchant for leaving the room to refill on free cookies every 10 minutes, and a Southern girl who twirled her hair so much I thought it might fall out.

For those of you who haven't experienced the sheer pleasure, Analyst Camp is alot like Band Camp, except with exceptional catering, private rooms, and the myth that you are being evaluated. Some people just live in their apartments and attend class during the day, but my company actually sent us to a lodge in the middle of nowhere. It heightens the beer goggle effect, I believe.

On the first day, they tried to cajole us into believing that the classroom portion might be fun.

"Ve going to play, two truuth and Liiie," Sventlana, the Russian Director and our terrible instructor went on. I shot S a look and he burst out laughing.

"Eeets ice break," she continued, and I died a little inside. I hated this game, even more so when people were being evaluated because it converted the usual nonsense (e.g. "I have a red car, I have a blue car, I have a green bicycle! Just try and guess!), into failed attempts to impress others ("I climbed mount kiliminjaro on my hands, I run a hybrid orphanage-school in rural India, Warren Buffett is my godfather!") . But I went along with it and wrote mine down like everyone else, waiting patiently until at last, my turn came.

"Hi. Okay:," I stuttered. "1) I left home at 13, 2) I used to have blonde hair, 3) I was a clown travelling with the circus."

My fellow students immediately started deliberating which item, as a team, they would designate as my lie (Yes, we were already "working as teams"). I saw the table next to mine, write down their answer, then feverishly scratch it out and replace it with another. When time was called, one of the tables was forced to write down an answer which I could tell they hadn't agreed on. Were these people serious? They actually think that, not only might I have been a clown, but that I was a travelling clown? Who has now decided to go into financial services? I could feel the laughter boiling up inside of me.

Every team picked #2.

"So, vich vun it eez?" Svetlana cooed.

I laughed so hard I cried. "Are you guys serious? You think I was a clown?!?!" I challenged.

"Well," my Analyst -camp fling from the London office spoke up, "your being blonde just seems utterly silly!" The room nodded in agreement.

First impressions are funny like that.

On the Horrible Affects of the Downturn, Part I

GM: Bartender! I'll take two shots of the cheapest tequila you have.

Girl: Sorry, he meant 2 shots of patron.

GM: It's a recession, Sugar. I can't make it rain like I used to.

Girl: I think your newly depleted net worth can spare me some Patron.

GM: Just close your eyes- it will all taste the same.

Yuppie Angst

Dear Big Brother Big Sister of Manhattan,

Thanks for your rejection note. I understand that you are overstaffed with Big Brothers and Big Sisters in Manhattan at this juncture. How could you not be? People in New York are so goddamn giving of their time and energy, not to mention obsessed with children, you can just see it on their faces. I'll bet I inappropriately brushed up against at least 16 Big Brothers at that bar last night alone. I hope their little "siblings" appreciate their company as much as they would have appreciated mine.

I can't help feeling hurt though. I would have made a great big sister- I even had a whole list of things planned to show her. I was going to take her to Indochine to try the amok cambodienne, then to Pegu to try this amazing cocktail I love- it has raw egg in it, but kids aren't really at risk for salmonella anymore right? That's what I thought.

Another idea was to take her to get Japanese thermal reconditioning on her hair. In my dreams it was sort of curly like mine, but 6 hours later i imagined her walking out of the salon with that tell tale swish of silk. These were my short term goals for her, and you just tore them away from me. It isn't fair.

I suppose it wouldn't have hurt so much if the Soho Partnership had returned my calls. Before that, it was rote rejection from Gods Love we Deliver.

But this isn't about my failure to fill the gaping void dug by my utterly shallow existence, this is about us, and where your rejection has left me.

I just thought you should know.

Its left me considering joining the Young Lions of the New York Public Library. What's more, this Saturday, I'll be accompanying my plus one to Ralph Lauren to have his tuxedo fitted. No matter that the price of said tuxedo or my gown could feed an entire zip code. He says it seems like the sort of charity we should be supporting, and after I dabbed the vomit from the sides of my mouth upon hearing that, I felt inclined to agree.

Cordially,

Girl

"What are your short and long term goals?" and other pick up lines overheard at Business School Receptions

“Hi, I’m James.”

He popped up behind me, and before I had a chance to pull a mock exit, he would hold me captive in conversation. I hoped, at the least, that he was a current student at Business School A, to whom I could direct the ass kissing that I’d rehearsed in advance of the information session turned cocktail hour.

“Oh, hi,” I beamed.

“I’m a prospective student, by the way,” he said, as though reading my thoughts. “Been working in Houston for my dad, he owns an oil company out there.”

“That’s lovely for you,” I replied. 6 pm was rapidly approaching, and I was annoyed that if I stayed any longer, my favorite treadmill would be occupied for the rest of the evening. Like cocktail parties that only serve Pinot Grigio, this was the sort of thing that really got my blood boiling.

“I want to be an Investment Banker,” he went on. I don't know if he was looking to me to express surprise here, but I wasn't having it. He was wearing a power tie when the invite had strictly noted “Business Casual,” for fuck's sake. I, on the other hand, was wearing my slutty-secretary pencil skirt, which is really appropriate for any occasion (in which I enjoy being hit on).

“Sounds like fun."

“I would agree,” he replied. He’d just agreed with his own fucking statement. The guy already had the heart of a banker. This was, pathetically enough, starting to resemble approximately 68-99 percent of dates I’ve been on since moving to New York (lack of sobriety accounting for the statistical range).

“Sooo, it’s pretty clear you and I have a lot of common. Do you have a card or something?” he asked. I stood up and smoothed aforementioned slutty skirt.

“I’ll be right back,” I cooed, and turned around to leave.

As I snaked my way through the crush of eager bodies, I had a realization. This is how cruel New York had made me; I’d actually started to mock people, even cute people, whose dreams I found indelibly shallow and stupid. For a brief instant I felt, not exactly badly, but numb in that way you feel when you take a friend’s Wellbutrin just for kicks then have 4 gin and tonics without thinking about it, like a dumbass.

I was halfway into the hall when another voice came up behind me.

“I think we sat in on the same class.”

I turned around to face him. “Oh, we did. Hi,” I said.

“Do you have, like, a phone number or something?” he said, taking out a pencil. A Pencil.

The kid had balls. Not just for busting out a pencil, which was so second grade it made me cry laughing, but because he thankfully hadn't felt the need to precede the request with bullshit. And after surviving my million and a halfth "deep talk" about the state of the markets (Stock conversation: "crazy day at work eh", "yeah, just crazy", "um, so what else") I'd hit a tipping point.


So even though he looked not a day over 19 and a half, I gave it to him.

Love is in the Air

Do you see what I'm seeing here?

He's all, I'm telling the cab to make only one stop and I don't care what you have to say about it, I'm coming upstairs. But also... look how gentle and sensitive I am by looking you straight in the eyes as opposed to giving you a spanking which is what you really deserve you filthy moose eating whore...and she's wondering a) if when they are married they will hyphenate their names and b) how far she can let it go while still maintaining she's a Proper Girl.

Classic.