catheroominations

March 6, 2006

pimpin’ ain’t easy

hate your job? you ain’t knowin’. you could have it so much worse.

I hereby offer the lyrics to the academy award-winning “it’s hard out here fo’ a pimp.”

you know it’s hard out here for a pimp (you ain’t knowin’)
when he tryin’ to get this money for the rent (you ain’t knowin’)
for the cadillacs and gas money spent (you ain’t knowin’)
because a whole lot of bitches talkin’ sh!t (you ain’t knowin’)
will have a whole lot of bitches talkin’ sh!t (you ain’t knowin’)

[djay]
in my eyes I done seen some crazy thangs in the streets
gotta couple hoes workin’ on the changes for me
but I gotta keep my game tight like kobe on game night
like takin from a ho don’t know no better, I know that ain’t right
done seen people killed, done seen people deal
done seen people live in poverty with no meals
it’s @#$%ed up where I live, but that’s just how it is
it might be new to you, but it’s been like this for years
it’s blood sweat and tears when it come down to this shit
I’m tryin’ to get rich ‘fore I leave up out this bitch
I’m tryin’ to have thangs but it’s hard fo’ a pimp
but I’m prayin and I’m hopin to god I don’t slip, yeah

[chorus]

[djay]
man it seems like I’m duckin’, dodgin’ bullets everyday
niggaz hatin’ on me cause I got hoes on the tray
but I gotta stay paid, gotta stay above water
couldn’t keep up with my hoes, that’s when sh!t got harder
north memphis where I’m from, I’m 7th street bound
where niggaz all the time end up lost and never found
man these girls think we prove thangs, leave a big head
they come hopin’ every night, they don’t end up bein’ dead
wait I got a snow bunny, and a black girl too
you pay the right price and they’ll both do you
that’s the way the game goes, gotta keep it strictly pimpin’
gotta have my hustle tight, makin change off these women, yeah

[chorus]

March 5, 2006

hurry, watch this before nbc issues a cease and desist order

yo! mtv natalie portman raps! in case you missed the show last night, check out the latest snl short here. yo, natalie portman raps.

updated 3/6: they already pulled it. link is dead.

updated 3/7: nbc has the video here.

March 4, 2006

this just in: boys are different than girls

the boy and I watched his dvd of coupling (the british one, not the lame-ass american knock-off). if you haven’t seen an episode, rent the dvds or find it on bbc. (you’re welcome.)

he wanted me to listen intently to the following speech by steve, given at a dinner party thrown by him and his girlfriend susan. steve explains why he watches porn erotica:

“because it’s got naked women in it! look, I like naked women! I’m a bloke! I’m supposed to like them! we’re born like that. we like naked women as soon as we’re pulled out of one. halfway down the birth canal we’re already enjoying the view.

look, it’s the four pillars of the male heterosexual psyche. we like: naked women, stockings, lesbians, and sean connery best as james bond. because that is what being a bloke is. and if you don’t like it, darling, join a film collective.

I want to spend the rest of my life with the woman at the end of the table here. but that does not stop me wanting to see several thousand more naked bottoms before I die. because that’s what being a bloke is. when man invented fire, he didn’t say, “hey, let’s cook!” he said, “great! now we can see naked bottoms in the dark!” as soon as caxton invented the printing press we were using it to make pictures of – hey! naked bottoms. we’ve turned the internet into an enormous international database of…naked bottoms. so, you see, the story of male achievement through the ages, feeble though it may have been, has been the story of our struggle to get a better look at your bottoms. frankly, girls, I’m not so sure how insulted you really ought to be.”

the boy’s reaction to the speech was a raucus applause, similar to the blokes sitting at the dinner table on the tv.

I believe the message was lost on me, completely. I stopped listening at “I want to spend the rest of my life…” as did susan, steve’s girlfriend of two months.

(in case you were wondering, I found steve’s speech online. I didn’t pause. type. pause. type. rewind. type. to post it. I am not that anal.)

March 2, 2006

that’s 150 points from gryffindor, miss granger!

recent photos are floating around the internets that depict emma watson drinking beer. emma watson is a mere 15 years old. much too young to be starting to go all paris hilton on us.*

in light of her new partygirl ways, I have come up with some spin-offs to the harry potter franchise.

hermione granger and the sorcerer get stoned

hermione granger and the chamber of secret stash of mum’s and dad’s alcohol

hermione granger and the prisoner of intervention

hermione granger and the goblet of whatever’s on tap

hermione granger and the order of el presidente margarita, blended, no salt

hermione granger and the half-drunk mudblood

and the upcoming 7th installation: hermione granger and the shameful night with he-who-shall-not-be-named

________________

*I do realize the drinking age in england is, like, 14 or something, so technically emma’s not doing anything wrong here. I’m merely commenting on the fact that these pictures have surfaced and seem to be causing such a ruckus.

I’m such a big fat loser

no. I am not exhibiting self-deprecation. I really am. I’m a loser.

I lost 15 pounds.

I did not do it by amputating an appendage, nor did I get liposuction. I did it the hard way. by changing my eating habits.

15 pounds, people. that’s like…like…something kind of heavy. it’s like 3 sacks of potatoes. I was actually carrying around, on my person, 3 sacks of potatoes. potatoes on my ass. potatoes on my hips and on my thighs. idaho’s largest crop on my gut. taters on my face. and, alas, on my boobs. I think I’ll miss them the most.

prior to reading this post, most people who know me do not know that I am dieting. no. not dieting. I hate that word. it sounds temporary. what I am doing is permanent (crossing fingers). I changed the way I eat. smaller portions. more fruits and vegetables. less chocolate (except at la fondue). lots of water. less wine and beer.

anyway, I don’t like to tell people I’m dieting. at a party, I will usually politely decline your ruffles and ranch dip. bring candy into my cubicle, and I’ll either take a piece and later give it away, or just say “no thanks.” my simply turning down sweets doesn’t upset people. maybe I’m full. maybe I’m allergic. maybe I think they laced it with rat poison. but offering the slightest hint that I’m dieting results in a statement like “oh, sorry. ok.” see? they apologize. I’ve made them feel sad. I don’t like to make people feel sad.

there are other reasons I do not broadcast that I am changing the way I eat. until now, I mean.

  1. I do not enjoy the mocking. yes, there is mocking. “you’re dieting? which one is it this time? I can’t keep track.” yes, someone has said that to me. so I have tried (unsuccessfully) in the past. so what? sometimes I would try to stay on the healthy side when I’d go out to eat, so “I’m on a diet” is the best response to the accusatorily-toned “you’re just having a salad? why?” mind you, I don’t ask my dining partner “you’re going to eat that entire quarter pound bacon cheeseburger and chili cheese fries? why?”
  2. once people hear I’m eating healthier, they feel the need to tell me I look like I’ve lost weight. because they know I’m trying. I appreciate very much the positive reinforcement and compliments, but receiving them only after one discovers I’m trying to lose weight, makes the response similar to the “fine” reply to “how are you today?” it might be sincere, but usually it’s just an instant reaction.
  3. friends and family who know I am trying to watch what I eat and for how long I’ve been working at it, sometimes don’t notice a change in me. (I know I’m a pain with my fickleness. I’m irritated if you notice and I’m irritated if you don’t. you can’t win. ask the boy.) I understand that people who see me on a fairly regular basis can’t see the changes that someone would see who hasn’t seen me in 4 months. but when someone, in conversation says “how’s the diet going?” (there’s that word again.) I’d like to say “I dunno. you tell me. do you see how my ass is no longer the size of kansas?” or perhaps “apparently not very well since you can’t see that I’m missing my second chin. have a nice day, you freakishly high-metabolism-having stick figure.” don’t worry, those comments are reserved for a couple of days during the month.
  4. telling people I’m eating better makes me less fun. it does, c’mon. eating is a social activity. you can’t do anything with friends that doesn’t involve eating, except donate a kidney maybe. “guess we can’t go out to eat anymore then.” well, we can, but we can’t go to gordo’s buffet, or uncle fatty’s house of mammothly-sized portions, or the cardiac shack. I cannot share an awesome blossom with you, or order country-fried steak and gravy with a side of lard. but I still can go out to eat. and I do. not as often and not to a place where they, as a rule, offer to supersize my meal. so most people I dine with have no idea I’m trying to lose weight. I don’t make a federal case of it. nor do I try to bring others into my way of eating. it’s ok if you order fries with your meal. eat what you want. this is my deal. I’m not going to rain on your parade or tell you how many calories you are eating (except if you’re the boy. sometimes I tell him. but it’s with love in my heart.)

those of you reading this who have not seen me before may be wondering what I look like. is 15 pounds on me a lot? yes it is. 15 pounds on anyone is a lot. I am 5 feet and one-half inch tall. I don’t have many more pounds to go. maybe 5. maybe less. so you can figure out that I am was not obese. but I can empathize with those who struggle to lose weight, whether it’s 10 pounds or 100. it’s hard. it’s frustrating. it’s boring. and it sucks. I miss french fries, dipped in ranch dressing. I miss my friend ben and his pal jerry. I miss a nice creamy alfredo sauce. no, I don’t miss a creamy alfredo sauce. I miss all of them.

but I don’t miss putting on a fifth pair of pants in the morning, only to find that they too, no longer fit. (if the pants don’t fit, you must di-et!) I don’t miss retaking every photo because there appears to be a goiter-type growth living under my chin.

my skin is better. my hair is better. my health is better. my attitude is better (except for the aforementioned one time during every month). I am happier when I look in the mirror. I have more energy. I’ve given up coffee (and desperate housewives and days of our lives, but that has nothing to do with this post).

for those of you who already knew about my habit-changing efforts, thank you so much for your support. I can’t do it without you. thank you for not sabotaging my attempts and thank you for abstaining from “are you sure you should eat that?” comments. you give me beer when I want it, and don’t tease me when I eat rabbit food. it’s my willpower that challenges me. sometimes I fight it, sometimes I tell it to kiss my (smaller) ass.

now if you’ll excuse me. for breakfast today, I had cereal with 10 grams of fiber in it. so I gotta go.

March 1, 2006

he who smelt it, dealt it

I sit by the mail/printer room at work and someone in there just fahted. I heard it. it was loud. I want to laugh really hard.

she’s not a bigit

want to help those who are gramatically challenged?

do you have an apostrophe key you’d like to donate?

here’s your chance.

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