Anal Bleaching

Have you ever heard of this craziness? Apparently, I'm way behind on the times. I'm studying, and the topic of anal bleaching comes up, unbeknowst to any of us on how it did. Anyways, according to Wikipedia, anal bleaching is what caucasian pornstars do to lighten their buttholes. That's just wrong and disgusting. But I've decided to educate you about the process with this helpful visual aid:

Now for the best part. . .

Some dude asked the following question on some type of I need help website:

"Im thinking of having my anus bleached?
but im damned if im paying 50 quid for it , could i do it myself with some Domestos and a toothbrush ?"

That's just awesome.

The Return of Mr. T

Since I had just posted about T, I thought we could use some more advice from Mr. T. So I found this, and well, there just aren't any words. None.

The Return of T

That's right--I saw T once again. It was glorious!

Niki, Rich, Clay and I were at 216 again--I know it's embarrassing. Anyways. I look up and it's T. And he remembers us!!! That's not all he remembered.

He started doing his creepy T "I'm coming to lay one on you" routine, and I was fighting it profusely. He lands one on my cheek, ick, and then moves in for the lips. I quickly turn my head, and he says, and I'm quoting b/c it is so excellent:

"I wasn't going to kiss you on the lips. Don'cha remember, we're brotha and sista?"

YES I REMEMBER T! It was so excellent. I cannot believe how awesome that is.

Clay and I were fortunately able to escape T after that and we headed out. Poor Niki though--she got a lot more of T. If she gives me permission to - I'll fill you in. Until now, T's absoludicrousness will just have to wait. . .

AC Wrap-up, Part I

Ok little birds, I'm going to wrap-up the AC saga--finally. And I'm doing it highlight style. Hold on tight.

1. The BUFFET--Let me just say that Khang and I were obese. They had crab legs--my favorite! It was awesome. We ate a lot. But what was really funny about the buffet was, and I'm sorry to do this to you Khang, but after we ate - Khang had to buy elastic shorts. I'm laughing hysterically now as I type it. Sure he says it was b/c we had a long-ass drive home, but we know Khang-we know.

2. Sidenote: AC has some nice outlet shopping!

3. After our shopping spree, we took a detour down the wrong road. We're walking along, and then Khang looks up and says, "Amber, we need to get out of this neighborhood." Me: "STAT."

We were in the GHETTO. There were broken beer bottles everywhere. Abandoned buildings. It was not the glitz and glam of AC for sure. As we're trying to get back to the Boardwalk, we walk through this group of guys, who were all in the same outfit. And yes, one had his pants so low, you could actually see half of his bare ass. Super hot. As soon as we get away from them, Khang says, "Was that Boyz II Men? I mean they were all dressed alike." He then busted out in their hit song "Yesterday."

The rest of the trip went down like this:
Khang and I had to take refuge in the nearby, rundown HS. Across the street from the high school was this rundown, littered, fenced-in field.



[Sorry for small photo-but this was taken on my phone.]
Anyways, we wanted to revamp the field to make it a safe place for us. But first, we had to learn AP Math, in order to pass an exam to graduate. We fought such a suggestion b/c afterall, we were just 2 kids from the streets of AC, trying hard to resist the Boyz II Men gang. But thankfully we had a teacher who saw our potential.

AC Wrap-up, Part II

Saga continued . . .

On the night before the test, Khang had a moral dilemma. His best friend of 17 years, who went to juvie for him, needed Khang's help. See this friend was in the gang Boyz II Men, and he needed Khang to go with him to shoot at the rival gang, Color Me Badd. But at the same time, I was in my dance try-out for Juilliard. What to do???

To make this long story finally end-we passed our test. I rocked my dance routine. We made it back to the Boardwalk. What a day!

And with that my friends, I have decided that the rest of AC shall remain a mystery. Unless Khang writes his guest blog, where he describes the line fight he was in at the Nike store.

Commenting

Thanks Khang for letting me know that I was blocking people from commenting. You can now comment--have fun kids!

B/c it just makes me laugh . . .

One chopped up seed smoothie please!

Watermelon = Good
Mango = Delicious
Yogurt = Great
Watermelon, Mango Smoothie = Nasty crap

This is what Khang drank in the AC, on the boardwalk, surrounding by fanny pack excellence that can never be matched. Mind you the seeds were still in the watermelon, and just grinded all up in that nastiness.

That's just wrong, and I tasted it, it tasted like avocado. Again, I repeat - nasty.

But dammit--I love that Khang!

On an unrelated note - I kid you not, just about every dude we saw in AC had the same hair. Massive amount of hair gel. Hair spiked all over. It looked just like this:



I don't know who made that THE style, but I love them for it. OH no no, not b/c I like it, but b/c well, it's just special, in the little yellow bus kind of way.

Murderabilia

I just read this article about cracking down on murderabilia, which refers to items connected to gruesome crimes. Here's a fun clip from the article:

" Murderabilia ranges from the mildly curious to the downright vile. At the tamer end of the spectrum, for instance, there's artwork by killers like Ted Bundy or Jeffrey Dahmer. More unsettling are things like murderers' fingernail clippings or foot scrapings. Daisyseven.com claims to have fashion magazine pages that Wayne Lo has allegedly defiled by drawing vampire teeth and bloodstains on the models' photos. The pages supposedly even have Lo's sperm on them."

Maybe we should work on laws that do something about the sick freaks who want to buy that stuff, instead of merely taking that stuff off the market. FOOT SCRAPINGS-seriously?!?!

Superhero lip care

Just a random note -

I got an email from Body Works about a recent sale. Anyways, I was browsing at the lip care items, and there was a whole bunch of chapstick. There was a list of mango chapstick, hemp lip care chapstick, and then "Stop Violence in the Home" chapstick.

If you just read that quickly, it makes it seem like if your man is beating you, just put this on, and it'll stop.

Made me laugh . . . not that DV is funny. It's not.

My Fate

As we were strolling down the Boardwalk, I decided to have my palms read. I will now share with you what I learned.

I will live a very long life, with one marriage. I will have 3 kids. All natural--oh yay! I will be getting married THIS YEAR! [Holy crap - this is all happening too fast.]

I will always be independent, never relying on anyone. [Maybe I should use that as my pick-up for my very soon-to-be hubby.] I do not trust women, and never will. [Awesome!]

My career will involve helping kids. [Now this one was a little creepy--that is what I want to do long-term. Twilight Zonish, right?]

Overall message - Come this September, I will be happy. Things will begin to turn around for me positively. [Now this is exciting b/c Sept. is when I move to NYC. Given the coincidences, I'm accepting this fate as true. Woohoo!]

Yeah I lost $ in AC - $157 in tolls that is

It's about 9:30 p.m., and Khang and I roll out of Cville on a mission to AC. We're rocking out to a mix of awesome 80s and 90s, with a little stand-up comedy thrown in. We're sharing deep dark secrets. Braiding each other's hair-you get the picture.

Then, we realize we're coming up to some tolls. WE HAVE NO CASH! Khang frantically digs thru my wallet. I have $2 in bills and then he counts my change. Thankfully, I have an assload in change. While this story is horribly boring, I have to tell it in order to attempt to create a picture of paranoid Khang. He is death gripping my change for approximately 27 miles. He can't even change the iPod. Then, he obsesses over the fact that he forgot to grab his Easy Pass (or whatever they are called). We saw no fewer than 17 signs for those Easy Passes too--just mocking Khang about how we could have avoided all these tolls and barely even had to brake to do it. Anyways. . .after we pay our first toll of just $2, to which we cheered because we had $2, Khang smells his hands and says . . .

"Coins smell like potatos."

Silly Khang. Anyways, we were able to stop at an ATM and get more money. And thank God we did, b/c from here to AC, there are about 349 toll booths. Seriously--it was ridiculous! This toll system is ass-raping the American motorist.

24-hour AC Adventure Baby!

So it was a typical Friday night. I had plans to hang out with everyone later that evening on the Corner. Then, I got a pleasant surprise, Khang calls me and offers to make me dinner. Woohoo-I'm there. So I show up at Khang's. He made me some very delicious chicken in a white wine, cough cough gravy cough, sauce. Then, we head out to Rapture for some tasty desserts.

We're eating some creme brulee and apple pie, washing them down with beer, which by the way tastes like ass with sugar. Anyways . . . Khang goes -- "Hey, let's go to Atlantic City." Trying to call his bluff, I say "let's do this." After about five minutes of asking each other if we were serious--we decide to really do this. Holy Shit! We were so excited, we almost ran from our Rapture table without even paying! Dine and Dash! Don't worry, we paid.

So we rush back to his place, pack quickly, and then head to my place, and Khang gives me about 2.5 minutes to gather my belongings. And with that folks--we were off on our 24-hour AC Adventure!

I would now like to share this trip with you in installments. To come . . .
1. No money for tolls fiasco
2. Slots that Hate Me, but LOVE Khang
3. Amber's Date with Destiny
4. Nastiest Smoothie Ever
5. The BUFFET!
6. "Um, I think there was a line." [Insert Neck Roll Here]
7. "AmBER, NO."
8. Whatever else I remember later on

Right now, you'll just have to wait. I have to count my winnings - oh wait - I mean go beg for more money to live on.

A Week at the Gym

Because I needed a laugh, and sure thing, this does it for me every time. Keep your lameness comments to yourself. Anyways, enjoy . . .

Dear Diary,

For my 40th birthday this year, my wife (the dear) purchased a week of personal training at the local health club for me. Although I am still in great shape since playing on my college football team 25 years ago, I decided it would be a good idea to go ahead and give it a try.

I called the club and made my reservations with a personal trainer named Belinda, who identified herself as a 26-year old aerobics instructor and model for athletic clothing and swimwear. My wife seemed pleased with my enthusiasm to get started!

The club has encouraged me to a keep a diary of my progress . . .

Monday:
Started my day at 6:00 a.m. Tough to get out of bed, but found it was well worth it when I arrived at the health club to find Belinda waiting for me.

She is something of a Greek goddess with blonde hair, dancing eyes and a dazzling white smile. Woohoo!

Belinda gave me a tour and showed me the machines. She took my pulse after 5 minutes on the treadmill. She was alarmed that my pulse was so fast, but I attributed it to standing next to her in her Lycra aerobic outfit. I enjoyed wathching the skillful way in which she conducted her aerobics class after my workout today. Very inspiring! Belinda was encouraging as I did my sit-ups, although my gut was alredy aching from holding it in the whole time she was around.

This is going to be a FANTASTIC week!!

Tuesday:
I drank a whole pot of coffee, but I finally made it out the door. Belinda made me lie on my back and push a heavy iron bar into the air, then she put weights on it! My legs were a little wobbly on the treadmill, but I made the full mile. Belinda's rewarding smile made it all worthwhile. I feel GREAT! It's a whole new life for me.

Wednesday:
The only way I can brush my teeth is by lying the toothbrush on the counter and moving my mouth back and forth over it. I believe I have a hernia in both pectorals.

Driving was OK, as long as I didn't try to steer or stop. I parked on top of a GEO in the club parking lot.

Belinda was impatient with me, insisting that my screams bothered other club members. Her voice is a little too perky early in the morning, and when she scolds, she gets this nasally whine that is VERY annoying.

My chest hurt when I got on the treadmill, so Belinda puts me on the stair monster. Why the hell would anyone invent a machine to stimulate an activity rendered obsolete by elevators?

Belinda told me it would help me get in shape and enjoy. She said some other shit too.

Thursday:
Belinda was waiting for me with vampire-like teeth exposed, as her thin, cruel lips were pulled back in a full snarl. I couldn't help but being an half and hour late; it took me that long to tie my shoes.

Belina took me to work out with dumbbells. When she was not looking, I ran an dhid in the men's room. She sent Larts to find me, and as punishment, put me on the rowing maching, which I sank.

Friday:
I hate that bitch Belinda more than any human being has ever hated any other human being in the history of the world. Stupid, skinny, anorexic little cheerleader. If there was a part of my body I could move without unbearable pain, I would beat her with it.

Belinda wanted me to work on my triceps. I don't have any triceps! And if you don't want dents on the floor, don't hand me the F*cking barbells or anything that weighs more than a sandwich.

Saturday:
Belinda left me a message on my answering machine in her grating, shrilly voice wondering why I didn't show up today. Just hearing her voice made me want to smash the maching with my planner. However, I lacked the strength to even use the TV remoted and ended up watching 11 straight hours of the Weather Channel.

Sunday:
I'm having the Church van pick me up for services today, so I can thank GOD that this week is over. I will also pray that next year my wife, the bitch, gets me a gift that is more fun, like a root canal or a vasectomy.

Fashion Statements that MUST Stop

I just have to rant about this. In my class, more than one boy has been wearing colored flip-flops, such as bright red or green. THIS MUST STOP! It just looks weird. You, as a man, can wear any shade of brown, black, gray, even navy blue in the flip-flop world. You may not, however, support fluffy red flops, or bright ass green flops that match your shirt. What's next, matching eye shadow?

And while I'm on a rant--people must stop getting personalized license plates. No one cares that you love dance, or where you went to law school, or whatever. In fact, there should only be one personalized license plate allowed, and it should say: IMADBAG

That's it---if you want a personalized license plate, you should be forced to get that one b/c that is really what you are telling the world.

No Food for Fatties on Sundays

Restaurants in this town literally shut down at the ass crack of dawn on Sundays. Mr. Big (you know who you are) and I were trying to track down food at oh, the late late hour of 9 pm, only to find just about every restaurant was closed.

The kicker is - even though they were closed, they all practically had their doors unlocked though. So you opened the door with the false hope of getting some food and service, only to be shot down by an employee. And shot down like this:

Mr. Big politely opens door for me. We both enter. See a few people walking around, not quite sure if they are open or not. Greeted by Asian man, who says,
"Hello. Why are you here?"

Um. . .lock your damn door!

Full Throttle: Frozen Fury (aka 7/11 Icee)

Amber at counter: "I'd like one super delicious Icee please."

7/11 Cashier: "Sure thing. That'll just be one ass rape, or seven if you're nasty."

While the above transaction didn't technically occur like that--it might as well have. It's 11:30 on a Saturday night, and Niki and I are in our PJs with no bras on. Niki also had on socks w/ flip-flops. She would like to add right now that those socks were canary yellow furry socks. I had a craving for an Icee because I'm 6. So I make Niki come to 7/11 with me, who was just trying to read Harry Potter and go to bed because she is dying from TB. She agrees to come only on the promise that she will not have to leave the car. I was cool with that.

First stop - 7/11 that is 1 block from house:
Everyone and their brother were there. Literally a brother too--sausage fest. We pull in and see the massive amounts of weiner at the 7/11 and I decide that I just cannot go in with no bra on and escape an ass raping. I was wrong . . .

Second stop - 7/11 that is about 2 blocks from house:
Again - packed full. I am about to go in and obtain my delicious frozen beverage, when the scariest old man of all time was standing outside, looking at us, and practically jerking it and licking his lips. Terrified, Niki quickly and smartly removes the furry socks so she can accompany me inside. And thank god--I cannot be friends with someone who wears socks and flip-flops in public. We go in only to find out that we are overdressed for this occasion. Everyone was in house slippers and robes practically. It was awesome! Niki checks out the pizza. Wrong move. It had been there for no fewer than 5 days. It was plastic and brown where it shouldn't be brown. Then she moves onto the hotdog/taquito display. Wrong move. They were turds. Literally--most disgusting long, log-shaped brown thing I have ever seen.

I pay for my Icee, and we go back to car. Creepy old man, still in same spot. Two guys are in the backseat of some car parked next to us. The windows were tinted, but we could still clearly see his death stare at us through the darkness. It was frightening! I have never seen such pure hatred in one's eyes before. So I bolt away. Only to come home to more scariness . . .

We are getting out of the car, and this one car is stopped with its lights on, staring at us. I try to investigate, but Niki quickly grabs my arm and says, "Why are you still watching?!" We run into the apartment. But oh wait -- Niki left those damn canary yellow furry socks in my car, and she cannot sleep without them. So I take a big slurp from my Icee and go to Recon. I scale the wall of our apartment like a fucking ninja. Niki follows, Jack Bauer style. I get to the car, and as I am about to grab those damn socks, the man is parking and getting out of his car. (So not a scary rapist, just a resident.) Niki goes, "Oh, it's John." Silence. Dead silence. Not John.

We go back inside. We literally just escaped how many ass rapings? But seriously--this Icee is delicious!

Um, Can I Buy a Vowel?

Alcohol is my best friend. It helps to make things funnier. It helps me forget most of the embarrassing things I do. It makes most boys here seem much cuter and interesting than they really are. It brings friends together and encourages you to tell all your deep dark secrets to one another. It can do many things, but one thing it cannot do - erase your stupidity and drunkiness from your cell phone. Allow me to demonstrate:

Last night was Cathleen's bachelorette party. It was a lot of fun - filled with lots of alcohol to make it even better! We bar hopped. We drank. My breasts were compared to the Alps. We drank some more. I told the cab driver my creepy cab driver story by talking very slowly in a scary whisper to everyone in the car. We then became creepy ourselves and headed to Coupe's. We drank even more. And then -I met a boy. We laughed, talked, and exchanged numbers. I wish I could tell you this boy's name, but I can't. But I can tell you how I programmed his name into my phone last night after having way too much alcohol . . .

Apmdmd

HI-larious! I'm so fucking awesome. What was I possibly thinking at the time I input that combination of letters, or more accurately consonants. Lucky for me though, my best friend alcohol erased that thought pattern for me!

Good news though boys and girls. . .we are meeting up this week. Now I just have to let him know that I have no idea what his name is. Ah, I really do love alcohol!

I Love America!

So I have stooped to a new low - yes I am watching "Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader?" This show is excellent in the sense - people are motards. The first guy I watched is some CFO and father of 5, b/c apparently the number of children he has should give us an idea of how smart he is. If you ask me - father of 5 = dumb. Alright, he chose the category of "Second Grade Math." Here was his question:

Joe always goes bowling three times a week. How many times does he go bowling in 11 weeks?

Now, he did end up getting the right answer, but not without must stress and second-guessing. His first concern was that Joe might go bowling more than three times a week? WHAT?!?!? This isn't a trick question - he ALWAYS goes bowling three times a week. Then he had to doublecheck his math of 33. FA-nomenal!

It gets better. This genius father of 5 "flunks out" of the game with this question:

This man made object was completed in NY in 1825. It connects the Hudson River to the Great Lakes.

Now the answer is the Erie Canal, which again, he did not get. But it won't surprise you once you hear his response:

"I didn't even know there was a river in New York."

I feel sorry for his children.

Respect the Rock

You can click on the image to make it bigger.

Quote Game

Quote of the weekend (yes--this is better than T's advice):

"Amber, I think I left my pants at the gas station." -Niki

In what context was this quote given:

(1) In the cab ride home, after dancing it up at 216

(2) After Niki accompanied T into a gas station (ew)

(3) While floating in a kayak inbetween rapids, and it was shouted from far away to Amber in another kayak, causing the other white water rafters to laugh and inquire into the insanity of such a comment

(4) Who knows because Niki is crazy and will say anything, and this is why she is loved by many

The Wisdom of T

Nik & I finally made it out to Club 216 this past weekend, after three long years. As we were heading over there, we were graced with running into none other than the man known as "T." Oh, T, sweet, sweet T. T was (hopefully) a highly intoxicated, and highly sketchy fellow. He originally approached us because he needed advice on what to do about his friend of 20+ years, who just told T that he was gay. Letting Rich handle the situation, Nik & I ran ahead, so I cannot tell you how he was advised to his situation. But thankfully, T caught back up with me. I will now share with you the wisdom of T:

"Hi there, sista. See I call you sista because we are like brothas and sistas. And you have to treat a lady with respect. So I call her sista so she knows right away that I'm not just out to fuck her. Because most guys just want to bust a nut with all women. And I like to get to know them before we start fuckin', so I call them sista, and I'm their brotha. Cuz brothas and sistas don't fuck each other."

Now those are some words to live by! Between T and Dr. T (see last post), you my readers should be set.

Absoludicrous!

"One out of One Dr. T's recommend it." It doesn't get better than this folks.

F*ck You Real Cherries!

Just a little observation I had yesterday. Who eats fresh cherries? Really? No one does. Yet most people always prefer cherry flavored (or "red" flavor if you will) foods/drinks. Or you eat cherries soaked in a cherry flavored syrupy substance in pies, on cakes, whatever. If you say you actually buy cherries at the grocery store and eat them in lieu of a banana, apple, or some grapes -- you are a liar! I don't get this - we love cherry flavored crap or even cherry scented crap, yet we constantly pass right over the fresh cherries in the market. Come to think of it--can you even buy them? I have no memory of even seeing a fresh cherry. Awesome.

While I'm on a little kick about fruit as well--F*ck you grapes! You are always so delicious in the beginning, but after a few handfuls, you make me want to vomit and curse the day I ever ate a grape.