Great Clues from Saturday Night’s Game of Celebrity

May 27, 2008 at 11:14 am (Uncategorized)

See if you can guess these famous names (no fair guessing if you were there):

1) “This lady is made of glass and full of syrup.”

2) “Locked in an attic, wrote a diary.”

3) “You got some ‘splainin’ to do…the wife.”




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My name is….

May 21, 2008 at 4:17 pm (Uncategorized)

Starbucks Alias: The name you use when your first name is complicated or unusual and you don’t have the patience to spell it out for the Starbucks cashier when they ask if they “can have your name for the cup.”


Gnishilda: I’d like an iced venti skinny vanilla latte, please.

Cashier: Can I have your name for the cup?

Gnishilda: Sara.

Cashier: With or without an H?

Gnishilda: Doesn’t matter.

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I’ve been looking so long at these pictures of you

May 13, 2008 at 10:30 am (Uncategorized)

…that I almost believe that they’re real.

Guess where I was last night, kids!  That’s right, Robert Smith and gang were in town and I was lucky enough to go.  They put on a pretty good show.  Nothing compares to U2, of course, but it was still fun. 

The major downside to the evening was that we were unfortunate enough to be surrounded on both sides by people who were determined to make it difficult for us to enjoy the show.  I went with a friend who ended up with two extra tickets when a couple of her other friends canceled at the last minute.  So between the two of us we had four seats.  We sat in the middle with a buffer on each side.  Didn’t make any difference.

On my right was this guy who danced like no one else I have ever seen or am likely to ever see again.  He was…undulating, sort of.  He would bend and straighten his knees, stick out his behind and waggle it around, rock his shoulders back and forth, and flail his arms.  None of these things were in coordination with the others or with the music.  If that wasn’t funny enough, when I say flail his arms, I don’t just mean waving them around.  I mean his arm stuck straight out to the side and whipping back and forth like he was fishing.  If I had actually been sitting next to him, he would have clocked me in the face a hundred times (but not to the beat of anything).

But Dancing Guy wasn’t that bad.  If I had asked him to stop flailing, he probably would have.  Worse, on our left was That Guy.

You know That Guy.  That Guy is the person who shows up at the concert already drunk (and possibly high or otherwise altered) and continues to drink throughout.  That Guy leaves and returns to his seat every five minutes, either to use the facilities or to get another beer, and grabs at your shoulders on the way by because he’s not steady enough to stand up himself.  That Guy lights up a cigarette (despite it being a non-smoking indoor concert) and then drops it on the seat in front of him.  That Guy dances with wild abandon and manages to dump beer all over the people behind him (and thankfully not on us…small miracle).  That Guy, upon realizing his beer is empty, flings the (glass) bottle out into the crowd and nearly clocks a security guard.  That Guy tries repeatedly to dance with everyone around him.  That Guy macks on every female in reaching distance.  That Guy stands on the (folding) seats to dance and then crashes down, taking others with him.

So the lesson today, boys and girls, is go to concerts.  Dance, sing along, have fun.  Just, please…

Don’t be That Guy.

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