Thursday, February 28, 2013

Bike bills

I don't know how to ride a bike that only has one pedal because I didn't grow up in the circus.


Really, losing a pedal on your bike is an ailment that cannot be overcome.

It's not like losing a bike seat, where you can just stand-pedal until you reach your destination.

Or "losing" the knee pads, elbow pads, helmet AND variety of reflective orange gear your mom bought you, because you can just put tasteful reflective lights on the back and front and still be safe.

But a pedal falling off?? (Cue cartoon music: Wah wah wah.)

Of course, this freak show of a bike malfunction happened to me during the week of Mardi Gras and for ABSOLUTELY NO GOOD REASON. (Well, aside from the fact that my bike is from KMart and I had probably exhausted it's five-ride limit.)

But there I was, minding my own business, riding 2.1 miles to my friend's house to watch a Mardi Gras parade, when PLOP.
The pedal fell off, mid-ride.

I didn't notice until my foot went down and felt nothing (like the top of the stairs when you think there's another step and there's NOT), and I freaked out and wobbled the bike to the side of the road to investigate.

Conclusion: The pedal fell off??? I noticed in amazement just a silver arm on the left side of my bicycle. No pedal. I looked around frantically. It was lying in the middle of the street 20 yards away.

The timing wasn't good.

Of the entire 2.1 mile-route, the pedal decided to come off as I was biking under an overpass, with its loud echo-y VROOM VROOM VROOMS of engines stopping and going from all directions, stressing me out.

(Those of you familiar with New Orleans, this was conveniently at the corner of Poydras and Claiborne.)

It was also dark outside and eerie under the overpass. Everything was tinged with cheap orange street lighting, the kind they use for security at department stores overnight.

Also, this was an intersection that has numerous homeless people holding signs hoping for some change.

Thirdly, I was halfway through a screwdriver in a plastic to-go thermos, and fourthly, I'm no mechanic.

I scrambled to grab my bike pedal from the dark street during a red light so it wouldn't get rolled over while keeping an eye on my bike so someone wouldn't take it in my awkward dash.

I then sat on the curb trying to screw the pedal back into the hole while drivers stared at me like I was a one-legged dog. I screwed and screwed that pedal, sweating profusely, but it wouldn't catch.

"You need some help?" a homeless man (well, a man holding a sign declaring he was homeless) asked me. He startled me so bad I yelped.

"Oh, well, my pedal fell off…" I trailed off, clutching my screwdriver (drink) tighter.

(Perhaps I should have had an actual screwdriver….)

As the homeless guy was inspecting it, two more homeless men came over and offered assistance. I was overwhelmed.

They each tried to do exactly what I was doing, screwing the pedal back in, but the threads were worn down completely and they all quickly gave up.

"Giving up after 30 seconds??That's no way to go through life, son!" I laughed in my head, but then thought about the irony.

Of course, before going back to their posts at the corners, they all asked me for money, and I gave EACH of them a dollar because they did offer to help me, and I was out of my element (Donnie) under the overpass.

Maybe $3 would buy me some protection.

I tried a few more minutes to rig up the pedal (maybe I could shove it in upside down!?) but…no. I had no choice but to walk my bike the remaining mile to my friend's house.

Walking a bike is the most annoying stroll you'll ever take. First, it's embarrassing and people look at you from their cars wondering why you're escorting something you should be riding. (That's what she said?)

And you have to walk it on the sidewalk, annoying other pedestrians, and all you want to do is ride it because it’s RIGHT NEXT TO YOU. It didn’t help that someone who passed me on a bike rang his little bell, just to taunt me.

When I finally got to my friend’s house, I dragged the dead weight up the stairs into her living room, then called the bike a useless piece of tin and pretended to kick it. And then I forgot about it.

Thankfully, my dad brought the beach cruiser back to life this week, when he fetched it with his SUV and brought it to a bike place to get fixed.

The guy at the bike shop couldn’t say exactly why the pedal fell off, only that you can’t just replace one pedal, you have to redo the whole pedal SYSTEM, and after a few wrong-sized pedals ordered (Kmart bikes aren’t universal?? Well, I never!), he finally found one with a good fit.

And now I’m out a whole bunch of dollars.


Tuesday, February 26, 2013


If a guy wants to date a complete and total bitch, that's his problem. 

I personally don't understand this, nor do I understand how bitchy girls always seem to have boyfriends, but apparently there are a bunch of guys out there that secretly want to be told what to do and want to get screamed at for leaving the house and not approving social plans 48-hours in advance for no good reason.  


But there comes a point when a guy turns from dopey and p*ssy-whipped to just plain inconsiderate. And then makes it your problem.

So was the case with my friend Monica, who had been friends with this guy Alex for four years, and was suddenly "dumped" by him to be her PLATONIC date for an office Christmas party at the insistence of his new girlfriend he had met a month earlier. 

Four years > a month, no????

Oh, no. Not if you're spineless.

This new girlfriend had properly grabbed Alex by the balls and twisted them to the point that he agreed not be Monica's Christmas party date. 

It didn't matter that he and Monica had no romantic connection or any type of hook-up in their four years of being friends. That was irrelevant.

Monica only asked him to go because she didn't have a serious boyfriend, and this office Christmas party was kind of stiff and everyone was expected to bring someone.

Alex made her laugh and she assumed they'd have fun drinking punch, eating crumpets and making fun of her boss. 

She asked him to go with her three weeks before the party and he said absolutely, without hesitation. 

But as the date got closer, and as his new girlfriend infiltrated, Alex changed his tune.

What makes this particularly annoying is that this A-HOLE decides to break the news that he wasn't allowed "can't go" to the party on...THE DAY OF THE PARTY. 

Not two weeks out. Not one week out. Not even the day before. 

Monica had texted Alex the day of the party at 2 p.m. reminding him that the party was at 7 and where should they meet?

"Yea I was going to text you just now," he wrote back, ominously. "To tell you that I can't go."


"Why?" Monica asked. 

Then it came to her inbox --- the canned copy that homegirl must have forced him to write since this was not his demeanor nor anything Monica could imagine him coming up with on his own.

"It's just not appropriate for a guy to go to that type of thing with a female friend when he has a girlfriend," Alex wrote. (Haha third person)


It wasn't like couples massages in Belize.

I mean, did he NOT explain their completely platonic situation to his girlfriend of ten seconds??? 

How about: "Hey babe, I swear we're just friends. I'll bring you back some dessert, OK?" 

No. Apparently, it was now "inappropriate" for him to do things with his female friends. 
Monica wondered if he honestly believed that.

She stared at the phone, fuming.

What's worse, Alex didn't even apologize for standing her up…or standing her up the DAY OF THE PARTY. 

Her friend of four years!

Did it cross his mind that if he had told her the news earlier, she might have had time to find another date?? 

Now, she had no choice but to go alone. It was embarrassing. 

She wondered what would have happened had she not texted him at all that day, if he would have even told her he couldn't go or just not shown up and crossed his fingers that she wouldn't notice.


Hope the bitch has strong arms to prop him up.


Tuesday, February 19, 2013


What do you do when you're married and apparently bored with your wife and want to get a bunch of girls to text you for your own gross, horny pleasure??


Rule #1: Make sure you tell all the girls that you're married upfront so they can excuse your completely inappropriate text messages. 

…Because once you announce that you're married, you're off the hook for anything inappropriate, right??? 

How can you be inappropriate when you're off the market??

This is what Paul, my friend's co-worker did (uhhhh and is still doing). 

Paul and Sarah are both in their late 20s and co-workers who work opposite shifts at the zoo (The zoo!!! Best job ever!!). 

She saw a flyer on the employee bulletin board offering his services as a personal trainer on the side. 

Sarah was in the market to train up.

Her first text was "Hey, I'd love some help if the offer is still good!" after telling him that she was a fellow employee.

Paul knew who she was. 

"How can I say no to a gorgeous redhead?" he replied, which was weird because they had met ONE time almost two years ago. 

They had back-and-forth texts that were definitely flirty when he wrote, "you know I'm married, right?"

"Yea, I thought you were," Sarah texted back, rolling her eyes at the married guy's first text to her calling her a "gorgeous redhead."

But she gave him the benefit of the doubt, since she works with mostly men and was used to dirty jokes and inappropriate banter all the time. 

After typing, "Yea, I thought you were," she wrote, "I figured all this was just talk."

"No, I'm serious," Paul said. 

THEN OMG….."I started getting messages like the following..." Sarah says.

"The things I would do to a smoking hot ginger like u would embarrass farm animals, lol. But I digress…" 

FARM ANIMALS!!!!!???!!! 


Interesting he'd bring up animals. Sarah pictured the turtles in the zoo who were always, uh, mating, and then got super grossed out.

"Are you joking?" she wrote back.

"No. I was being truthful when I said I thought you were stunning from the day I saw you," Paul wrote.

Sarah stared at the phone confused. They had met ONE time, TWO years ago.


Sarah tried to bring it back to the non-sexual business at hand.

"I just wanted to work out and lose a few pounds," she wrote. 

Paul didn't (want to) take the hint.

"It's cool…we're all the same size laying down…or on our knees ;)" he wrote. 

On our knees!!!!!!!!!!??!

You know, I'm starting to think he's not a personal trainer at all.

Paul then texted Sarah about how he likes teasing women to the point of them begging him to do things that involve quivering and are too gross for me to type considering it's from a married man.

DUDE!!! CALL A SEX PHONE LINE!!  Don't pretend that you're offering "personal training" services just to talk dirty to someone. Pay by the minute like everyone else.

What a freak.

Sarah said she then asked Paul if he and his wife "had some sort of arrangement"  with that kind of talk. 

Maybe swingers?? Maybe an "open relationship"??

He said no, there were no arrangements, which made Sarah feel really, really bad for his wife. 

And then she felt even worse when Paul's next text was, "Crap. I got to go. Can I text u tomorrow? The wife is sorta home right now lol."

CRAP my wife is home??? LOL???
That's funny to no one, Paul. 
Sarah didn't write back.

The next morning, she woke up to another text from him.  "Yo! Wake up hooker! Stop dreaming about me!"


Dreaming about him??? HOOKER???

She deleted all his texts and his number. 

And she has felt particularly grossed out watching animals at the zoo mate ever since.


Thursday, February 14, 2013

Valentine’s Day gifts that sound lame but aren’t

I once had a roommate whose boyfriend of years and years got her an alarm clock for Valentine’s Day. 

They got into a big fight about it, haha, because not only is an alarm clock the least romantic gift, ever, but she already had a perfectly good alarm clock. 

No one needs two alarm clocks. (No one really even needs one alarm clock…thanks iPhone.)

Anyway. No alarm clocks. 

But that’s not to say that functional gifts for Valentine’s Day are lame. Not to me, anyway. 
Besides, I don’t think guys are normally good at picking out jewelry.

Below is a list of what I think are perfectly good Valentine’s Day gifts, things that she will use even when if you break up and be like, yea…Toby got this for me for Valentine’s Day….man, I miss that guy…

1.) Awesome sneaks. Sneakers are useful all the time and last for years, and she’ll think about you every time she pounds the pavement. 
If you want to spring for red or pink for Valentine’s Day, that’s even cuter. 

2.) Countertop dishwasher. You know what sucks more than not having a washer and dryer to wash clothes? Not having a dishwasher!  
And if you spend a lot of time at your significant other’s house, YOU've more than likely gotten stuck doing the dishes!  
Throw some money at the problem and get them a super cute tabletop dishwasher!!! This one is the cutest I’ve ever seen and attaches right into the sink spout:

3.) SCOOTER DAY!!! Living Social has a Groupon (New Orleans people) for $35 to rent a scooter for 24 hours and it comes with a helmet and basic insurance. I rented one a month or so ago, and it was the most exhilarating fun I’ve had outside of a roller coaster. Pack a lunch and scoot out somewhere far away because it’s like 300 miles to the gallon on those babies!!!! 
vroom vroom

4.) PAJAMAS. The warm kind, you know, the soft pants that are cashmere or whatever material they make North Face jackets out of. Throw in some socks, too, and your love will look forward to coming home every winter day and putting them on.  (I still have socks my mom gave me for Valentine’s Day years ago, they are my most regular article of clothing. THANKS MA)

5.) Board a bitch. Uhhhhh I mean a dog. A female dog. Give your pet-owning significant other a weekend or day-long boarding credit at a doggie daycare (I think they take those, yea?) and then you can just up-n-take off for the weekend or have a dog-free Mardi Gras and be like, “Yo, Fido’s taken care of babe. Happy Valentine’s Day.” 

6.) Luggage. Something in a size that will fit into your car but not allow her to pack up her entire closet. Fashion people like to call this a “weekender bag” even though that name makes me want to throw it out the window.

7.) A whole bunch of mason jars. This Southern glassware is perfect to drink anything out of and you can totally play up an accompanying card by saying you like the lip on it or something. Hahahaha 

8.) A juicer, along with seeds for a lemon or orange tree. Perhaps a strawberry bush.

9.) A star constellation map (at your local camping store) and a promise to point out each other’s "signs" at makout point, or you know, the lake. 

10.) The classic IOU notes.  The cheapest way to say I love you! I owe you a massage. I owe you dishwasher duty. I owe you a ride home when you’re out with your friends and drunk because cabs are really expensive. Ha. 
(That's honestly the only Google image for "IOU" I could find. So...odd.) 
Really, though, writing out your FEELINGS in any capacity is sweet and thoughtful and if a chick gives you a hard time about it, board that bitch.
Happy Valentine’s Day ya’ll! xoxo

Wednesday, February 13, 2013


I know it's Wednesday, but I was too busy doing this yesterday to post:


Anyway. Back to business.

When I sort of kind of tried meeting people online (ugh), I met a guy who told me he was a moderator for the online dating site.

"A moderator? What does that mean?" I asked.

"I see things people write that are rude and were 'flagged'," he said. "Some of them are pretty ridiculous."

"Hey, you think you can email me that?" I asked.

(He doesn't know about Toolbag Tuesday.)

"Sure," he said.

I never talked to him again after our date (he was kind of a dork....and a moderator) but he came through on his promise to email me the "flagged" messages. Below are actual NOT EDITED messages from dudes on a local dating website.


No, really...........get ready......

MAN_504: For a smart girl, you effuse an ignorant anti-Jewish liberalism that will be the downfall of all us Jews. No- I'm not a republican, though you still may not get me because of your inability to see outside the box of your parental alienation.


GUY1187 Your so proud of your lack of any type of Jewish spiritualism, even though that 's where most of the world's spiritualism originates from.
I really doubt you'll reply, and if you do it will probably be in the extreme negative- this is why most people don't go into discourses online and merely wink at profiles. Who has time to write to each person that is encountered online?
Meditation is not spiritual- it is the selfish act of mind quieting. As an adamant Taurus, by definition you are full of BS, and I'm calling you on it.
Shalom (from a real doctor)


IMCOOL1234: I want to lick your ass so bad. U are gorgeous.


MISTEROkcupid: you should totally message me back i use a cock pump daily so you know what that means right?


LadyPants No. What does that mean?

MISTEROkcupid: I can pump my cock up to a big size when ever I want Hun. So what do you say to that

LadyPants: Is that your first message to every girl on here or is there something in my profile that made you think that would appeal to me?


WestCoastGuy: You are too old to be prancing around in bumble bee outfityt. Your eggs are drying up. Not to mention your opportunities for finding a relationship are quickly closing. You need to decide. you still want to fuck around like you are still 21.


LoveMeLoveYou: YOU ARE SUCH A DARLING...I can be your little secret if you ever need a fuck buddy, one time fling, NSA, short/long term, casual sex or whatever you need and I am someone to be very discreet if you need this...I am a 45 year old white male here...I had a vasectomy in the past, but I know you know that it can be medically reversed.




Wednesday, February 6, 2013

Reasons my mom is cooler than I am

                          Mom and Dad...Mardi Gras...last year.


I’m not going to tell you how old my mom is today (duh…I’d still like Christmas presents) but I WILL say that our generations are very different.

Different in that I’m super jealous of her generation.

Apparently, in a mythical land called the United States in the 1960s, a brand new Volkswagen Beetle cost $400 and rent in the French Quarter was $50 a month.


I can’t even buy groceries for $50.

One of the cool things about having parents who are a generation (or two) older, is that the stories about their lives are positively baffling in today’s overhyped, overconnected, built-out, THREAT LEVEL ORANGE world.

For example, when I studied abroad in Spain in college, I visited Barcelona (“Bar-th-lona”) and my mom suggested I take “about five euros” and visit this little island she had visited when she was backpacking through Europe…in the 60s.

“We slept in caves!” my mom said. Badass.
“Where is this mysterious island?” I asked.

“Oh, No one knows about it!” she said. “It’s this beautiful little island….called IBIEZA. You just pay a fisherman to boat you on over there."

“IBIEZA??? IBIEZA IS LIKE $800 a night, with yachts and celebrities and where supermodels detox,” I said, referencing my US Weekly.

“Really?!!!?” she said genuinely shocked. “No kidding!”

“Really. A plane ticket alone is a few hundred dollars. I don’t think I can just pay any old fisherman to drop me off at a cave anymore.”

“Oh well that’s too bad,” she said.

My mom is cooler than me.

Studying abroad in Spain is when I first learned this, when I was given a host of advice from my mom – well, both my parents, really – that made my travels seem PG.

“Don’t sit in the back of the bus - that’s where farmers sit with their sheeps and goats,” my mom said.

"And it smells bad," my dad offered.


"We were hitchiking," she said.

My mom has lots of other traveling stories that are pretty unbelievable.

She was once in a car that FLIPPED over on a winding road over a cliff and the car fell upside down into a tree (!!!!) Everyone was dangling by their seatbelts wondering what to do when my mom said the Beatles song, “Let it Be” came on the radio.

Someone should really work that into a movie.

My mom is also cooler than me in the pets department.

When she was my age, she had a saltwater fish tank with oozing, inky creatures inside it that a family friend would put a towel over sometimes because it “grossed her out.”

I can’t even make a plant bloom.

She once had a goldfish live nine years!!!! NINE!!! (Until my brother, age 4, decided to feed the fish the entire container of food and it, uh, ate itself to death.)

She also adopted a full-grown Great Dane when we were toddlers. We named him Smile and we would flop on him when he laid on the ground. My mom remembers that he was careful to not step on us when he got up.

My mom was a teacher for a really, really, really long time and managed to inspire her civics class to properly protest something (the principal was not amused.)

My mom moved to New Orleans from New York in the 1960s after visiting ONCE. She drove down in a semi-busted car with a gas card that no one accepted in the South. 

She promptly moved to the French Quarter above a little grocery store and started playing the stand-up bass in a band, dancing the night away in the quarter. (She can still play the spoons….on your head.)

She can also juggle really well, and that’s a good hidden talent.

My mom’s friend, who visited her in New Orleans in the 1960s, said she woke up one night late to my mom entertaining people in her living room by juggling fruit. 

Apparently, she had been bragging about these skills and needed to prove it.

“There was fruit splattered everywhere!” my mom’s friend laughed. Everyone was laughing.

But aside from all that, my mom made change happen. 

Literally. The world would be different if she hadn’t existed. (Woooooah, is that the meaning of life????)

My mom singlehandedly started a neighborhood watch in our neighborhood that made it safe to walk down during the day. 

Through that, she managed to get our pot-holed street paved and improved home values and quality of life.

She also changed the dorm curfews when she went to Syracuse University. Hahahahaha

I don’t know why or how this happened, but I heard from very well-placed sources that my mom was the one who alerted the administration that they were adults and therefore didn’t need to be told what time to come home.


(Sure, this change would have happened anyway, but it happened that particular year because of my mom.)

She taught her three children not to just sit there and let life hand you lemons, but to be proactive and take a stand on things you believe in.

Case in point: She moved out of the French Quarter and bought a house nearby when her landlord said she wasn’t allowed to hang a sign in favor of a particular candidate for city council. 

The landlord didn’t want that candidate to win and said since it was his property, she couldn’t hang the sign.

She retaliated by buying her own place and moving out.  
(The American dream?)

I have plenty more examples of how my mom is cooler than me: 

(she's taken yoga classes every week for 30+ years! She can speak Spanish fluently without even practicing! SHE WEIGHS LESS THAN ME)

But instead, I will leave you with this awesome dedication in a book about how she helped education in New Orleans:



Now if you will excuse me, I’m going to practice my juggling.


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