Gaga for La Ga...

I have not been able to stop picking up my banana and singing the beginning of "Telephone" into it (if you don't know who sings "Telephone", get out of my life). It started at my parents house this morning, when I asked my mom if I could take a banana and she made the mistake of telling me "yes". I immediately grabbed it, put it up to my ear and sang "Hello, hello baby you called I can't hear a thing. I ain't got no service in the club you see...see. Wh-wh-wh-what did you say? Oh you're breakin up on me. Sorry I cannot hear you I'm kinda busy...k-kinda busy. K-kinda busy. Sorry I cannot hear you I'm kinda busy." She stared at me with a blank look, I decided I wanted a different banana, so I chose another and did it again. More blank staring. I decided again that I wanted a different banana (listen, I'm not a fan of banana-bruising, so I'm kinda picky about my bananas. That's probably why I'm off the bananas permanently...HEY OH!!!!), so I selected one more and started the routine again to which I got a prompt "Will you shut up?" from my mother. Cue blank staring from me.

Fast forward to work, I set my banana on my desk, caught a glimpse of it an hour later, picked it up and..."Hello hello baby..." Throughout the morning and early afternoon this happened at least 7 more times until about 15 minutes ago, when I ate the banana. Guess I'll have to move on the the stapler. Or...wait for it...the telephone...

It's natural, baby...

My friend Jessica wrote a hilarious/disgusting Facebook update today that made me laugh and yet feel sick at the same time. But mostly it made me laugh:

Jessica Aimee Cakuls Yesterday I'm puking and I think how funny it'd be if people tried to eat their puke like dogs. Could u imagine walking down a street in Lincoln Park at 2am & seeing 10 girls on their knees, furiously scooping puke back into their mouths? So I laugh into my toilet and then go back to bed. After 20 seconds, I hear some weird noises. I go back into the bathroom and my dog is trying 2 eat my puke out of the toilet.

This status update also made me think...first, about why Jess wouldn't flush the toilet after horking to avoid Diego munching it up. But then it made me think about other animal habits that would be utterly hilarious if done by humans.

A girl in her early 20's is at a meat-market bar looking to meet someone. She weaves through the crowd, eyeing folks until someone catches that eye. She walks over to them and promptly buries her nose in their butt, sniffing merrily away. She doesn't like their scent, so she moves on, casually sniffing butts as she passes people.

A young child hears the doorbell ring at their parents house. They leap excitedly as a family friend walks through the door. They crouch down on all fours, back end wiggling away, and pee all over the floor. Their parents see the piddle puddle and say "Oh look, he's excited to see you!". Several weeks later, this same family is getting ready to go on vacation. The parents tell their son to go outside and play for a bit before leaving, hoping he will release some energy and sleep in the car. They call him into the house only discover he's rolled around in something that stinks to high heaven, most likely raccoon scat. Trip delayed.

You're at a Cubs/Sox game at Wrigley. A couple guys in front of you get in an argument about spilled beer. Of course, one is a Cubs fan, one is a Sox fan. The argument begins to escalate, each of them puffing up in anger and you fear the fight may start getting physical. The Cubs fan, blowing his top first, poops into his hand and flings it at the Sox fan. The Sox fan retaliates with a poop fling of his own, and before you know it, the sh*t is literally hitting the fan(s). You jump on the back of a large stranger and try to get out of the stadium, much like a bird might hitch a ride on the back of a hippo. As payment, you begin to eat the bugs and other parasites off the large stranger's back. Then you get a tapeworm.

I'm sitting in my living room on my couch and my butt starts to itch. I pull down my pants, get on the floor, and scootch my butt along the carpet to relieve the itch, all the while hearing The Joyous One scream "Bad girl! No! No! Bad girl!". The yelling is ignored, butt-on-carpet-scootching continues until the itch is satisfied, pants then get pulled up and couch sitting resumes.


Yes, I know a lot of these have to do w/ butts and poop, but face it, that's what most animal habits have to do with...butts and poop. And butts and poop are hilarious and you know it...

Here we go again...

Oh friends and faithful boog readers, all 3 of you, I must apologize yet again for neglecting my boog writing. I know it's not an excuse, but I've been writing March Madness basketball recaps for the NCAA Tournament pool that I run, and have completely abandoned any and all other writing. I'm a bitch like that. But not to worry, the tournament will be over soon, so if you'll have me, I'd like to come back and write about the ridonkulous thoughts that cross my brainscape. I know it's a lot to ask, but please keep coming back to my boog and I promise you that I will have some new stuff soon-ish.

I was going to write something last night, but "The Rock" was on for the second Sunday in a row and god forbid I miss a showing of "The Rock", I mean, I've only seen it 874 times. Seriously, what is it about that movie that hooks me like a meth-head? I used to tell myself it was the hotness of Vanessa Marcil, but let's be serious people, she's in the friggin movie for like 10 minutes. She's sho 'nuff hot though. Dag. Anyhotbod, I hate Nick Cage, and I mean hate him...so I know it's not him. The dude from Candyman scares the sh*t right outta me, and I'm only a semi Ed Harris fan. So it must be Sean Connery. I guess Sean Connery is what keeps me coming back for more "Rock".

Although now that I think of it, I have a similar addiction to "Con Air", which is another Nick Cage joint. I watch it every time it's on, but I've always told myself that I love it despite Nick Cage being in it. Perhaps I'm denying something deep inside me, an undying love for Nick Cage. Oh my. This is not how I wanted my Monday to go at all...

Carrots...

This poem is dedicated to the pile of carrots I discovered in my street yesterday...

Oh pretty pile of carrots,
How did you end up there?
Perhaps tossed from a car
By a jerk, who did not care

Oh pretty pile of carrots,
Are those peppers among your ranks?
Thank God you're not alone
For that I will give thanks

Oh pretty pile of carrots,
Had I not seen you, I'd have slipped
But I did, so I stepped over
And wondered how you'd be w/ dip

Oh pretty pile of carrots,
You may have tasted nice
Now you're smooshed down flat
Under a sheet of snow and ice

Oh pretty pile of carrots,
Your sad story makes me cry
Soon the street sweeper will come
And we will say "goodbye"



Adios, pile of carrots. You're the most random thing I've ever stepped over.

When in doubt, blame God...

I was over at my parents house this morning...I know what you're thinking, you're thinking "it's not Friday, what in the hell was Meta doing at her parents house?". Well let me tell ya, if you're thinking that...then you obviously read everything I write and are potentially stalking me if you remember every little detail. And if you're thinking "I already knew that Meta was at her parents house today", then you are absolutely stalking me and you followed me there(One question: why didn't you clean my car off when I was in having coffee?). I'm not complaining, if anyone loves a stalker, it's this girl. Stalk away, my friends, stalk away! Only don't judge me when you're stalking me and you see me pull into the gym parking lot, pretend like the lot is too full and turn right back around and head to Tasty Dog.

Anycreepy, my parents and I got on the subject of concerts this morning, probably because my dad was reading an article in the paper and dared to ask me if Lady Gaga was any good. By the way, it took a full 5 minutes of me sneering at him before I responded with "Are you f*cking kidding me?" After my disgust, I went on a rant about how she writes her own stuff, plays a kick ass piano and actually sings live unlike a lot of today's pop tarts(sorry Brit Brit. I love ya, but ya cain't sing, girl!). My dad then said "It's like that Milli Vanilli thing. Why aren't people more upset about this?"...I explained to him that it's not exactly the same since Milli Vanilli never actually sang on their tracks at all. PS...hearing your dad talk about Milli Vanilli? Is hilarious. Anybraids, my mom then asked me if I still had fun at the Milli Vanilli concert even though they were lip-syncing. I looked around to make sure no cool people were around to hear me admit to going to the Milli Vanilli concert, and once that was confirmed I said that yes, I did have a really good time.

My dad then said "So they weren't the ones that cancelled their concert? There was a band you were going to see, and they cancelled their concert. Who was that? Rose something?". My mom said "Oh, Axl Rose" and I said "Yeah, Guns 'N Roses, I forgot about that. I'm bummed I didn't get to see them!" Then my mom said "Personally, I think God was responsible for cancelling that concert because you were such an asshole, Meta." I busted out laughing, but my dad(bless his heart) said "Why was she an asshole?" and my mom said "Because she was a teenager!" at the same exact time as I said "Because I was a teenager!"

So, what's the point of all this? Well, I'm not sure. I think just to say that teenagers can be assholes. And La Ga is the shit. And that yes, I did go to see Milli Vanilli. And that no, I was not alone, I did have friends with me. They may not admit to it, but they know who they are!

Rock on!

Reason #144...

...why I love The Joyous One. Last night, we were at a Fenwick alumni fundraiser that our good friend was the ringleader of. A lot of people had name tags on, and on the the name tags, they had their graduating class from Fenwick. Now, The Joyous One and I are not Fenwick alums, but decided to put on name tags anyways. As I finished putting mine on, I looked over at The Joyous One and saw that she did, in fact, include a graduating class..."Joy, Class of Awesome".

Ain't no party like a Kroker party...

I loved Thanksgiving this year. I mean, I love it every year, but I really loved Thanksgiving this year. I loved the turkey, and the turkey skin. I loved the mashed potatoes, and roasted vegetables, and butternut squash soup. I loved the french silk pie, and pumpkin pie, and sweet potato pie, and whip cream. I loved the wine with dinner, and the funny conversations, and being able to burp at the table when I needed to burp. I loved using bad words, and swearing at each other in a hilarious manner.

I loved that my dad started things off by calling one of us a mother
f#%@&!, a phrase that turns me right into a pile of giggles, especially when a grown-up says it.

I loved The Joyous One, who when her coffee cup was filled up too much said "Babe, suck on this so it goes down." I loved the raucous laughter that followed.

I loved my mom, pretending not to know what a dutch oven was. I loved my sister for calling her out on it, saying "Do not act like you don't know what a dutch oven is!" I loved my mom's response, "Well I call that 'Do it again you f#%@!*& son of a bitch, and I'll kill you!". I love that I laughed about that for days after, repeating it to anyone who would listen.

I love that I'm still laughing about all that now.

I loved Thanksgiving.