Friday, October 29, 2010

Forwards from Ma: We got one!

From Ghostbusters, if you're not cool and was wondering.


It took 12,48723 forwards, but our mother finally sent us something that actually elicited a laugh from our jaded souls.  To the library patrons that I disturbed with my outburst of laughter, I apologize.

A guy went up to his father, saying: "Daddy, I fell in love and want to date this awesome girl!"

Father: That's great, son. Who is it?
Son: It's Sandra, the neighbour's daughter.
Father: Ohhhhh I wish you hadn't said that. I have to tell you something, son, but you must promise not to tell your mum. Sandra is actually your sister.

The boy is naturally bummed out, but life goes on, and indeed, a couple of months later...
Son: Daddy, I fell in love again and she is even hotter!
Father: That's great, son. Who is it?
Son: It's Angela, the other neighbour's daughter.
Father: Ohhhhh I wish you hadn't said that. Angela is also your sister.

This went on another couple of times, and the dude was so mad, he went straight to his mother, crying.
Son: Mum I am so mad at dad! I fell in love with six girls but I can't date any of them because dad is their father!

The mother hugs him affectionately and says: "My love, you can date whomever you want. He isn't your father.



Tuesday, September 21, 2010

How to make bubble tea

I asked my sister for a bubble tea recipe (yes, she makes it from scratch, the nerd).  This is the recipe she sent me. 

 Heeey, oogie.

It's 2 tablespoons of boba (bubbles, for you Harlem-Americans) boiled  in a cup of water and a  tablespoon of sugar. (This is important b/c boba takes on flavors with which it is cooked and is extremely bland otherwise).
Boba cooks in 1 minute.  Drain out hot water once it's cooked to your preferred consistency (read: softness). 
Boil water for steeping tea (water has boiled when bubbles appear on surface of water. Alternatively, boil water in a whistling kettle just to be sure).

Place a black tea bag* in a cup. Make sure bag label is hanging over side of cup to allow for easy handling. 
Pour water into cup.  (Make sure it is the same cup with the tea bag).
If you prefer a stronger cup of tea, steep tea bag (dipping tea into water or just letting tea bag sit in cup) for 5 minutes.  Otherwise, 3 minutes should suffice. 
At this point, I like to add 1 tablespoon of coffee.
Add sugar to taste.
Add boba.
Enjoy.

Call me if this isn't clear.  I think I still have the recipe I gave to Jada.


*Tea bag should not be black.  It is a bag of black tea leaves.

       Love, Piglet

- Show quoted text -
--
Sent from my mobile device

For those who care, Jada is her 5 year old Goddaughter.  I know I almost burnt down the house boiling water that one time, but this was unnecessary, and mean.  I cried.



And remember, always horizontal


To the obviously psychologically fucked up Vancouver lady who claimed acid was thrown on her by some random stranger (a black female stranger, for those keeping count) until she confessed to doing the deed herself, I just have one thing to say:

IT'S CALLED WRISTCUTTING!!!*


Less permanent damage, and more mainstream.  Ok?

*Yes, this post is evil.  We just think, in the spirit of shallowness, that being psychologically messed up doesn't have to come at the price of one's face.  Unless you're not hot.

Friday, September 3, 2010

Life compare-and-contrast: Friday night

Texting back and forth

oogie:  Dude are you online?
piglet:  At a bar, darl.
oogie:  F**k you.  Eating pieces of gum.
piglet:  My friends are models.

Sigh.  Happy Friday!

Sunday, July 25, 2010

Next week: Noah, major drunk?

And now, a Sunday Sermon about the Chicken/Egg question


With the recent discovery that the Chicken did in fact come first, any Christian who was waiting for verification through this scientific breakthrough must now acknowledge that they are bad Christians:  When God created the earth, he did not create an egg; he created a chicken.  AND, if we choose to think of this question as applying only to World 2.0, a.k.a the world after the flood, Noah did not bring two eggs into the ark, but two chickens. 


So the lesson here is: a) religion eliminates the need for science as good Christians already know the answers to those "difficult" questions, and b) Aristotle was just stupid.

Wednesday, July 7, 2010

Heyyyyyyy Piglet





On May 2010 Piglet and her sister Oogie parted ways as roommates.  To the 750 million concerned mutual friends, we don't hate each other and are still friends.  Still, there isn't a doubt that living apart will affect Oogie more, who moved to a less fancy apt in a less fancy neighborhood and who has naturally depended on her older sister more than she cares to admit.  Below, some voice messages left for Piglet in the early stages of not living together.

Voicemail, Tuesday June 2nd, 4:45pm.
Heyyyyyy Piglet, can I get a spare key to your apt?  Apparently no cable in new place and I NEED my Top Chef fix.  Lol!  Call me back, xoxo.  It's oogie.

Voicemail, Thursday June 4th, 10:01am.
Heyyyyy Piglet, can I use your kitchen to make some pesto sauce?  I don't have any pots and I'm trying to budget things for now.  Aaaaanyway, let me know and of course you can have some sauce if you want!  Call me back, xoxo.  It's the sis.

Voicemail, Sunday June 6th, 2:25pm.
Heyy Piglet, it's the oogster again.  I'm sorry I missed our brunch date today.  I keep forgetting that I have to take the bus THEN take a cab THEN walk ten blocks before i can get to the subway station and then transfer three more times before getting to midtown.  But at least my rent is super cheap!  LOL!  Ok call me back!  Super owe you.

Voicemail, Thursday June 10th, 7:18pm.
Heyyyy Piglet, got into a HUGE fight with the roomies about chores.  They got so mad when I suggested they do...anyway it doesn't matter.  Call me back!

Voicemail, Saturday June 12th, 9:11pm.
Heyyyy Piglet, another fight, this time about food.  See, I thought the roomie was making this pasta dish for...the specifics don't matter again, LOL!  Just that she's mad at me and it super sucks!  Call me back!

Voicemail, Tuesday June 15th, 1:54pm.
Heyyy Piglet, just on the way to the UPS headquarters.  Apparently they don't deliver stuff at our neighborhood.  Something about...who cares?  I LOVE it here!  Call me back!  xoxo

Voicemail, Monday June 21st, 8:02am.
Heyyyyy Piglet, can I crash at your place again?

Voicemail, Wednesday June 22nd, 11:16am.
Heyyyy Piglet, I kinda noticed your roomie giving me the stink eye again.  Are you sure she doesn't hate me?  I think she's just jealous that I'm always hanging out at your place and wishes you'd rather hang out with her.  Lol!  Anyway, have fun at work today!  xoxo.  It's oogie.  Your sister.  Byeee!

Voicemail, Wednesday June 22nd, 7:31pm.
Heyyyy Piglet, why aren't you calling me back?  I had a really funny joke to share!  I told one of my roomies but she wasn't amused.  I think it's because she's Indian and it was a joke about this...anyway, call me back it's so funnnnnny!  We should blog about it!  xoxo

Voicemail, Friday July 2nd, 9:22am.
Heyyyy Piglet, just at the police station.  Got mugged on way to getting the paper this morning, bleh.   Call me back!  xoxoxo.

Tuesday, July 6, 2010

Black woman sues church for performing Gay Marriages


A woman demanded a return of the $250,000 in donations she made to her church due to the church's recent performance of gay marriages.  Now, before we judge, surely we can understand her outrage:  they LIED to her.  

May I suggest that in retribution, all church-going white gay people should plan on suing their church for daring to integrate blacks in the congregation.  Just a suggestion.

Sunday, June 27, 2010

Next week's sermon: Was God...black?



And now, a Sunday sermon on Abraham

Abraham, was he really that faithful?  Why such blasphemy, you may ask.  Well, let’s address the bible story in which Abraham takes his son, Isaac, to the top of a mountain for sacrifice.  I ask, is it not possible that Abraham went along with God's directive to have Isaac sacrificed because in his mind was the unspoken thought, "I'm probably not the father, anyways"?  (Hear me out here- In those times when the world did not have Maury Povich to announce “You are NOT the father”, surely we can understand the possibility of such a doubt?  At the time of Isaac's conception, Abraham was 5,503 years old.  (No, really).  Plus, Sarah had been shown to be bitter about the chicks on the side (that she mostly pimped to him, granted (citation pending)).  And then how random that two guys claiming to be Angels (uh huh) would show up and crash at the pad and then a few days later the lady becomes pregnant!  Oh yeah, Abraham had thoughts.)

Moving along, the second point I need to make is, have we ever considered how fucked up it must have been for Isaac, thinking he is going on an animal-sacrificing excursion with the dad, only to be tied up and lain on top of twigs once they arrive at their destination?  To then watch with fear as his “father” raises the knife, aims for his throat, only to stop in midair, looking at the skies (this is when God has interfered- but as we all know, God only talks personally to people and nobody else hears- but to Isaac, his father is taking a break prior to killing him), then turning around observes aloud, "Oh, there's a lamb."  Isaac is then untied, the lamb is killed instead, and then they both head home afterward.  The question becomes:  Had senility kicked in or was Abraham so one-track minded and practical he decided since God was late on providing a lamb, they might as well kill Isaac so he will come home in time for supper?  Poor Isaac, he must have been traumatized beyond words after this.

So the lesson today folks is that Abraham wasn't that faithful, just a lousy father.

Saturday, June 26, 2010

Another blog post about something we hate!



Q:  How many hipsters does it take to screw a lightbulb?
A:  Some obscure number.

Yes, hipsters are annoying.  In a new segment that we will probably soon get tired of, we present scenarios involving hipsters and how to deal with them.  Scenario #1:  The hipster and his love of obscure music.

Normal person:  So what's that you're listening to?

Hipster: This band Spoonfuls and Forks, you probably haven't heard of them.  They're this garage band from Kansas.  They're sort of starting out now.  They have this sound that is just out of this world.

Normal Person: Spoonfuls and Forks?  Oh yeah I've heard of them.  I heard them on the radio the other day on Z100?  Ryan Seacrest goes on and on about them.  Actually I think they opened for Backstreet Boys.  In Atlantic City.

Hipster:  Um.  I don't shower.


Next week:  How to tell when a hipster is either male or female.

Saturday, June 12, 2010

It's cool again to hate soccer


At the tender age of 26, I oogie, a Nigerian expat, finally accepts that she friggin hates soccer and will not be participating in the World Cup viewing festivities*

Why I will not be viewing the World Cup:
  • Because each game is ninety minutes long, with no interruptions except for half time, and on average you get a score of 1-0.  This means you will waste ninety minutes of your life on a single exciting point.  There is also a fifty percent chance this exciting point will not be towards your team.  Which leads to the next reason...
  • The team I root for always loses.  Rooting for Brazil is lazy, and the other countries have ugly colors and/or ugly names.
  • The exciting point that makes up the final score of 1-0 is often a free kick.  That is without a doubt the most anti-climactic aspect of soccer.  You are resigned to being rewarded with a pitiful 1-0 final score, and then this exciting score happens to be a free kick!  It's like every single Super Bowl of your life being a final score made up of field goals.  How is that fun?
  • Football (YES, I said Football!) is more fun than soccer.  Like, hands down.
  • While soccer players are really hot, you can get the same thrill watching tennis which has players with a similar physique.  Tennis is an equally boring game, but you get more close up shots of players, and grunts too.
  • And finally, in a further breakdown of this pitiful game, soccer is fifty percent faking of injuries: A guy gets tapped on the ankle by an opposing player, he lands on the ground, clutching knee, face contorted in such acute pain.  While all this is going on the clock keeps running.  A penalty kick is granted.  Now feeling much better, the player kicks the ball.  Goooooooooooooooooooooooooooooal!  It's minute 20, and the final score will be 1-0.  Yeeeeah, this is fun.
*except to get drunk in bars with friends and meet cute soccer fans

Friday, April 30, 2010

Dark day indeed

On Facebook:
Oogie:  I don't feel too good.  Life suddenly seems shit-tastic.
Piglet:  A dark cloud has descended over the world. I knew they'd be punished for spawning such perfection.
Oogie:  It really isn't their fault though, that God chose to blink at that crucial moment of conception.
Piglet:  That blink!  In better news, he's available.
Oogie:  Yes.  But what chance does any lady have with a man whose baby mama is Halle Berry?  Seriously.
Happy Friday!  (Bleh)

Friday, March 12, 2010

My vibrator's broken, anyway


On gchat

Piglet:  Try to stop me from buying a Don Draper doll.  I dare you.




Oogie:  Of course I'll stop you!  This is absolutely despicable!  People who are even thinking about buying this deserve to be locked up!  So vile!  Oh it's available in July-so Vile!!!!

Thursday, March 4, 2010

It just needed more salt


Who among us has not come across a "blog to book deal" story and thought with extreme annoyance, "I could have and should have done that too"?  Take the instance of the latest book from a blog, "The Art of Eating in", in which an obviously entitled human being decides to chronicle a year of cooking her own meals and not, well, eating out.  Perhaps also one of the most annoying and unbelievably clueless blog-to-book concepts out there considering that most people eat in since it's CALLED BEING POOR!*

I digress.

Nonetheless, we have decided to jump on the blog to book bandwagon!  I, oogie, who is an all-around lame cook (by the kindest of terms), will start blogging about her trials and triumphs in the kitchen!  I give you um, triumph FAIL #1:  the birthday cake I made for myself, a pineapple upside down cake:




Um.  It just didn't make it on the way up.

*said the grad student.

Monday, March 1, 2010

They can't be serious

Victoria's Secret just launched a "Love Your Body Campaign" and the following is the poster ad they used for the campaign:


Right.

Please take all the time you need to digest this.

Saturday, February 27, 2010

Abortion is simply that: Her Choice



The New York Times featured an article on the latest anti-choice movement, which claims that abortion is at the center of a long-running conspiracy to annihilate the black race. (Seriously…)

To disseminate this message, the Georgia Right to Life organization has funneled significant amounts of funding towards displaying billboards claiming that “black children are an endangered species”, developing a website detailing the conspiracy and hiring a black minority outreach coordinator to spread this “knowledge” among black communities. In addition, the anti-choice Mark Crutcher has produced a documentary on the connection between abortion and black genocide, all the while comparing abortion to Nazi tactics and slavery. Planned Parenthood, of course, is primarily targeted as being the primary vehicle for fulfilling the genocide mission.

I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried.

For once, let’s get this straight. In addition to offering abortion services, Planned Parenthood offers sexual education information, reproductive health services, including birth control. The attempt of the anti-choice movement to attack Planned Parenthood and to prevent it from operating in black communities means that the anti-choice movement intends to prevent members of the black community from having access to affordable birth control and reproduction education services. Quite obviously, the reduction in available sexual education and birth-control services in any community will result in an increase in unwanted pregnancies. And with unwanted pregnancies come increased abortions. Within their own camps, the failure of their arguments is quite evident- take a simple look at the results of Sarah Palin’s insistence on abstinence-only programs in schools and the result of a teenage pregnancy within her own family. Logic, apparently, is not the forte of the anti-choice movement.

More importantly, are blacks to listen to the anti-choice movement on abortion and black genocide? The anti-choice movement is born primarily of the religious right and has members that consist primarily of white republicans who care so much of the plight of minorities and yet will not hesitate to disparage unwed black mothers, deny them welfare benefits and all the while ensuring that their children, who make up less than 12% of the population, make up more than 50% of the jailed population. (Let’s not get started on the socio-economic cycle involving unwed black mothers and poverty). And when pushed to make a change and improve the circumstances of this demographic, these same members channel our beloved Senator Bunning to say, “tough shit”.

Most, if not all, anti-choice arguments rest on the foundation of a woman’s presumed stupidity. And with the latest claims of abortion-related black genocide, the black person’s presumed stupidity. The NY Times article quoted a pro-choice black female college student who, after viewing Mark Crutcher’s documentary, said, “[If I were to get pregnant now,] maybe I should want to keep my child no matter what my position was, just because of the conspiracy.” That statement = Education FAIL because how about this for a mind-blowing curve ball: DON’T GET PREGNANT?!

This latest campaign of the anti-choice movement is beyond insulting. Black people should and do have more sense than falling for this hateful and racist rhetoric. A woman’s choice to have an abortion remains a choice and NOT her contribution to an alleged black genocide.

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

This may be the hardest Lent yet

I'm giving up cocaine for Lent. Or perhaps Meth? Now, my Catholic mother's outrage aside, shouldn't the abstention taken up during this glorious holiday include things that we've wondered about? And not necessarily behaviors or habits in which we already engage? I know this is irrefutable because I initially decided to do away with carbs, found this too hard after the toast I had for breakfast, then I considered giving up my Sunday mornings by attending church every Sunday during lent, and this was even harder (um, brunch? Like, helloooo???). So, I settled on something that would be the least offensive. And this was cocaine.

Please wish me luck and check back periodically for updates on my progress.

Sunday, February 14, 2010

All hail the blessed mother! The impossible hath been done as thou hath createth life…eth

This rant is dedicated to those friends (you know who you are) who recently went where no mortal had gone before- they (gasp!) created life. To say that motherhood gave these women unprecedented airs is to make the understatement of the month.

Take the instance of my friend, T, who gave birth about seven months ago but failed to notify me of her, uhm… miracle. Instead, I found out via searching her Facebook profile when I began to wonder if Friend T had the baby yet since otherwise, she’d have to be 10 or 11 months pregnant. And sure enough, she’d squeezed out her child six weeks earlier. I call her immediately, “Hey T, I just saw you had the baby! Congratulations! Call me when you can!” A couple of weeks pass and I still had no response to my call, which was unlike her. I call her again, “Hey T! Just calling to say hi. Give me a call when you can.” 5 months later and still no response from Friend T. I simply deduce that chick is upset with me for not calling once she’d given birth, an action that would have been damn near impossible since (a) she chose not to notify me that baby Z (*not actual name) was born despite her weekly calls throughout her pregnancy to update me on such inanities as her daily flatulence, the changing weight of her boobs and the green ooze that once leaked out of said boobs and her husband’s audacity to request sex once in six months despite being fully aware that she was creating life and didn’t he know the future baby Z could be the next Einstein (yeah heifer- Charles Manson was also gestating at one time) and (b) it is NOT my fault that I blocked your Facebook profile after your incessant Farmville games saturated my news feed so how was I to know that 6 weeks earlier, you announced that labor pains were akin to a single mosquito bite and “[your] mother was a liar, yo!” and that baby Z had arrived?

Anyway, after 5 months of complete and utter silence, 2 days ago, Friend T resurfaces to condescend to write on my Facebook wall, “hey girl...i miss you...hope your [sic] doing well!!

The nerve! I, of course, had to respond accordingly, “Hey- I'm doing well. How are you? I know you're super busy but we should definitely catch up whenever YOU have time to return ONE of my calls :)”

Shocker! She hasn’t responded.

So what really is the purpose of this rant? Friend T is not the first new mother to behave thusly. For some reason, some people believe that childbirth designates them as some hallowed and blessed being. (Newsflash- WRONG!) Said people seemingly expect that by sheer intuition (and perhaps a dash of divine intervention and/or related communication) the rest of us lowly mortals shall become apprised of the birth of their child because god forbid we don’t intuitively know 10 minutes or less after the placenta slides out to congratulate them on this miraculous feat. It is beyond irritating that I have to explain to friends like T that it is not personal; most people have busy lives that prevent us from idly waiting for some divine communication that you’ve given birth. Wait! What was that? We should just know? We should put our lives on hold and stalk YOUR lives to know when your baby has arrived? Well! OUR BAD!

But I must be off- divine communication coming through- Baby Z just pooped. Accordingly, I now must call to congratulate Friend T.