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All Things Ordinary ... August 3
| Connor, Robbie, Cory, and Tommy rock out... |
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| ... thankfully, not with their -ahem- "blocks" out! |
Okay, who wants to throw XXXL panties at Cory while he cries and then faints and his family cheers and has a big guffaw on his account? (But I guess that's kind of like every day in the Bird household... minus the Cory being around anyone's panties, except his own.)
(mainly for Erica's enjoyment)
NEWS FLASH!
Radio Randy tickled my nipple and declared, "Cookie Monster's friend is all dirty!"
All are advised, at this time, to return to normal daily functions. This NEWS FLASH! has been brought, in part, by Erica's insistence and Chef Rick's Ultimately Fine Foods. We apologize for the interruption. Thank you and good day.
| .: Autistic drummer child :. |
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| If only I was cool enough to play a full kit. |
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| Robbie is my hero! |
My life is an independent film in the making. Let me just clue you in, in case you were completely unaware of just how strange and interesting and demented my life REALLY is.
And here is the basic breakdown of my freaky shit catalysts:
Self Induced - 54%
Resulting from the freaks I consider my constant companions - 44%
Whimsical chance - 2%
Isn't life great?
Obviously you're here because of all the hype about my sweet, diabolical genius. Or because you've caught wind that you've been featured on its pages! Either way, you're here... so just try to enjoy this. Do not take it too seriously. If you know me, you won't.
This is the first thing I thought of to increase viewer satisfaction (for my millions of faithful followers)... it's really a gift of myself and these individuals to you, yourself. Kind of like a breath of life.
This sampling of sinfully delicious men is the type that breeds jealousy in the hearts of other men with their natural, inborne panache with the ladies. Or they just breed, period.
| Brain Ass |
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| Who says taking pictures of pictures in yearbooks is gay? |
This is Brain Ass. His alias is Brian Ferini of the Orcutt Junior High persuasion and the number one response to "do you remember him?" is "Wasn't he kind of fat?" He dated Drew. Briefly. Drew once found him attractive! hahaha And as the internet is the storehouse/breeding grounds for freaks, he created his own website featuring his own lily white ass. His grammar and typing skills are equivalent to that of a 2 year old blind child with no hands and ironically and very hilariously, he misspells his own name as "Brain". Why did Drew ever end things with him? IS SHE STUPID? Or is he?
| Rogelio |
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| Yes, I once called him a beaner... because he had a beanie on. |
Hooo man, I'd like to go south of his border!
Roger is the most unMexican Mexican I know, totally whitewashed. Yet, this underpriveledged minority man of mystery, who will be attending USC next year, bonded with other equally 'qualified' representatives of under-represented minorities for a few weeks of summer program fun to help "even the playing field".
And no, that is NOT Joey.
| Larry has ONE face and ONE face ONLY. |
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| Larry makes an otherwise good picture better. |
| Robbie: Warrior of Love |
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| A shot of Robs and the day suddenly seems bright. |
Poor guy will never live this one down... but should he even want to? Perhaps he can take comfort in the fact that only Drew, Erica, Lizzie, and one freak from the internet will ever see this. Anyways, it shouldn't effect his mojo, because it is always "Robbie and his women"... "As it should be," says the King of Women, himself.
My Favorite Classes version 2.0shit.
"...wanted to have sex with angels..."
- Cory Bird, muttering in a 'note to self' sort of way as he takes notes on Biblical allusions.
"I'm going in what ever car Kristin is riding in!"
- Glenn Issac Frisnen (to be further elaborated upon, to your imminent disgust, in a coming attraction "Operation: Get Some Just Won't Die".)
English Biblical Allusions Dialogue:
Warren Fahmy - God's a fucked up guy.
Brian Simas - You're going to HEEEEELLLLL!!!
Glenn Friesen - Hell is being locked up in a room with three other people!
* Being Connor's mischievious little elf (Kris Kringle is so overrated), I gifted him with a giant PVC pipe candy cane, accompanied by instructions telling him to devise his own uses for it. I saw him wandering the halls, smoking it like a giant bong, which ruled out the possibility of buying him a Christmas colored one. Brian Simas borrowed it for some fun in English, reinacting his critically acclaimed "Lost Little Sheep" act with Roger Lopez. He corralled his wandering sheep, Roger, while plaintively calling, "Ohhh, come here my lost little sheepy!" I never saw this, but many reported to me that Connor was beyond ecstatic when his eyes laid upon the candy cane and found joyous uses in it, like beating people over the head with it during class and poking the unsuspecting people in the butt with it. Encouraged by some of the unintelligent members of AP English, Connor sat poised to give it to Mrs. May hard on the butt as she perused the aisles while attempting to teach the class. Mid-swing, Mrs. May briskly turned to catch the little deviant in the act and confiscated the "little PVC pipe cane" to lock it up in her drawer of English goodies. Damn.
* In Physics, Chris Mariscal, being the little Physics genius that he is, finished a particularly trying test early and abandoned all us poor physics challenged schmucks to retrieve a book to read. Erica and I happened to whip around at the exact same time to have the exact same image burned into our minds. It is a horrible image that should never be inflicted upon another human being and one we cannot soon forget... and not just because we talk about it every day! She let out one of those patented 'vortex' wheezes and I followed by nearly giggling my butt onto the floor of the class. Picture Chris Mariscal, a tad bit unshaven, with his shirt half untucked, wrinkled, the buttons not quite aligned, his hair flying as wildly as short hair can around his face, and his thick rimmed glasses a bit crooked on his nose. Now this forboding man did not just 'burst' through the door, it was like a man explosion. His man explosion was halted only by his crazed look. He was like a drunken freak, home from a long day of work rivaled only by an even longer night of drinking, angry as hell, exploding through the door in a drunken rage and screaming, "WOMAN! Where's my beer! This steak is cold! BITCH!" Scawwey.
* After an extremely exciting, action packed day of physics, Mrs. Houseman had had it with our class. She blew up and made us sit in complete silence, working quietly on Christmas crosswords. It was mid-January, long past Christmas and we were all between the ages of 16 and 18, long past the age of crosswords. Nevertheless, there we were, doing crosswords. I couldn't concentrate as the wheeze haunted me because Brian Simas kept cackling to himself at the word choice. "hehehehhehehe Ball sack. Snow balls. Frosty balls. Ball sack ball sack ball sack." An unrelated topic also about Brian Simas, one day he wasted the entire period unable to escape his job at the Country Club's Snack Shack and worked on drawing pictures of fallic foods sold at the Snack Shack. These included hot dogs and burritos. As he sketched the finishing touch on the hot dog, namely, relish, a food epiphany descended upon him. He giggled and cried out, "It looks like a fuzzy weiner!" Then he spent the following ten minutes of the period giggling some more and mumbling "fuzzy weiner fuzzy weiner fuzzy weiner" to himself and anyone who could hear. Another story I may never understand regarding our good friend Brian. We'd all known that Coach Fauria will be leaving us at the end of this year, however, Brian found out months earlier. How? A man who knows Fauria personally frequents the Snack Shack and Brian has worked up a good repertoire with him. His good standing with the man and a "breakfast burrito" was all it took to coax it out of the man. Curious, everyone asked him how he found out... "Didja make him a breakfast burrito?" Brian replied, with a sly, sexy smile, "If you want to call it that...hehe."
* And now for something I wish I had but did not witness with mine own eyes. While applying Physics to the real world, Eric Domingues was called to demonstrate the concept of torque and center of gravity to the door. Confused on what to do and where to push, Eric managed to shove his slight body against the cabinet. Dylan, the little perv, sang out, "Make love to the cabinet!" His comment was met by laughter and a half amused, half annoyed look from Mrs. Houseman. As Eric continued to push the door with his thumb, he let out a low, guttural grunt. Glenn called out, "That sounds like a noise you should make while making love to a cabinet!" For the first and last time ever in Physics, the class was SILENT. "That crossed the line. You've gone too far." Erica, live from the scene, found this "quite strange considering Milo and Nick San Juan spent all period humping the air/desk/each other while grunting aloud and yelling sick things at each other."
* Eric Domingues is a freak. No doubt. He thinks he's Michael Jackson and even has his dance moves down pat. Oftentimes, one might spot him busting a few slick MJ moves between the lab tables during Physics class. Upon questioning him on how he performs them to perfection, Eric told me that he just watches the videos over and over and over, pausing the video only to reinact it in his living room. While Erica and I were compiling a play list for the upcoming dance, Eric wandered over to ask if we had any Michael Jackson songs on it. We told him we had 3-4. "Do you have Billie Jean?" "Nope." Aghast at our answer, he stopped to catch his breath and cried, "What? I can't dance to anything BUT 'Billie Jean'!!" Of course we were alarmed when we realized that we wouldn't be seeing those perfected, patented MJ moves done by 'Michael Jackson' himself. However, I saw the indiscrepancy presented by this and asked, "Then how the hell do you bust Michael Jackson moves in the back of class every freakin day??" Giving me a look, he gravely replied, "I play 'Billie Jean' in my head." Well, duh! Now close your eyes for just a fleeting minute. Open them. Now picture Eric Domingues staring in your face while dancing up against your desk, nearly on your lap. Not pretty to wake up to. Then the little MJ protege giggles, "hehehehheheeee! You were sleeping." I love him.
"Spank me, Simas!"
- Connor Marks
* After leaving the physics class in an absolute livid rage and attacking many unsuspecting, innocent children (Lizzy Schuh and Ben Ruth), I returned because I had promised to finish my lab report with my group, namely, Will and Drew. Very quiet in my intense anger, Will and Drew were immediately hushed by my furious silence. We worked quietly, noiselessly, until a strange, loud, rhythmic noise sounded forth, seemingly from the little hall/back room that connects the three science rooms. Three pairs of keen ears perked up at the noise. Still angry but perv-alicious as always, my mind conjured up the image of Jurassic Park with a giant dinosaur with an even larger - ahem - hangy stomping around the back room, only to happen upon a tender chicken strip of Mr. Kollar, my favorite, and surely the favorite of the Varsity volleyball team, teacher. A grisly death in my mind. However, Drew, aloud, made clear what was on her mind. Since only the three science teachers are allowed in there and Mrs. Houseman was busily covering illegal chemicals in her drug warehouse with paraffin wax, we naturally assumed that Mr. Kollar and Mrs. Morris were the emitters of the strange noises. Drew declared, "hehe. Those sound like the sounds of sweet lovin." I noted that it had to be some physical chemistry going on between Mr. Kollar and Mrs. Morris. Will got that funny look of disgust tempered by anguish and marked by a sly, slightly amused smile. Suddenly, the noises ceased. I mentioned that they must've grown tired of their sexiferous expermentation when Will busted out: "She's quite a load." He must really know Mrs. Morris to be able to commisserate with Mr. Kollar, heh heh. Drew and I were very disgusted. We continued working and the noises started up again as we dissolved into giggles. The next springy thought in mind was of the movie "Contact" in which Jodie Foster monitors similar sounds. Will asked who was in that movie and I said, "Jodie Foster and ... Ma-" and Drew finished up with, "-tthew Mc Cona-haaaaaaaayyyyyy!" Mrs. Houseman overheard this and was nearly beside herself with school girl giggles and Will's look of anguish, amusement, and disgust reappeared. "Okay, that's enough. One more time and I'm about to leave!" Drew and I jumped on him, especially since his "quite a load" comment easily slaughters Drew's "Mc Cona-haaaaaaaaaaayyy!" any freakin day of the week. The noises ceased fire again and Drew wondered aloud if Mrs. Morris smoked after sex. Once again, we were suprised and impressed by Will's sick nasty threshold. "Yeah, smokin a meat cigarette!" said he. That was it. He is no longer allowed to make faces about anything I say because nothing I can say can possibly add up to that one comment. He is not allowed to say anything nasty anymore.
"my Erica Hahahaaaaaaaatch..."
- Connor Marks, in a barely audible yet heartfelt whisper
* Not long after that day in physics, Mrs. Houseman started laughing in the middle of class and confessed to Drew that she thought about her "Mc Cona-haaayyyy" comment in the middle of another period and could barely control her laughter. Once again, the notorious Will look reappeared on his face and Drew, without thinking, whipped around and laid the smack down, screaming (in the midst of a silent class), "OH PLEASE! That does not even COMPARE with your 'SMOKING A MEAT CIGARETTE!'" The class erupted and Mrs. Houseman tried to hide her face with much difficulty while pretending that none of this happened. I couldn't believe Drew yelled that in front of Mrs. Houseman and the entire class. All I could say to Mrs. Houseman is "you're lucky you don't know who the smoker and the smoked are..."
"Warren looks like the mountain man's old man child or something."
- Drew Noble
My sn is ThaAikenator
My email: |  |
Graeme-isms!!!
Love Graemes!
These really don't sound all that great unless you were there and could have the entire "Graeme experience". Graeme just doesn't translate well. He makes it hard to type. Oh man oh man. WHAT A MAN. If you could remind Drew or me, we'll reinact some Graeme-isms for you. If you can't wait, just say the following in a slurred, prepubescent voice, with strange pauses, a lot of saliva, and yelling.
First, let me explain. Drew and I catered for this SUPER RICH woman out in AG for her 50th birthday bash. Graeme is her 15 year old, 6 foot 4 son. Wait, did I say 15? Because at various times during the night, he claimed to be 25, 23, and then "I'm a shhhtherty-five yur old maaahhn!" Needless to say, this man was the insatiable kind of sexy. Think Robbie. Think Larry. THINK MILO. Are you all hot now? I am.
While pouring champagne in the kitchen, Graeme, having had at least 4 Coronas, wandered into the kitchen and mumbled to us while we laughed and Drew and I were forced to crouch on the ground in sheer joy. He finally walked out, shouting, "SHHCREW IT ALL! WOOOO! YEAHH!"
From the garden, we could hear him accusing others, "You're all drunk!" And he followed us around, asking us if we were allowed to get wasted while catering and saying, again, "You're all drunk!!"
Drew overheard him conversing with another, half drunk party participant. The man was telling Graeme that he'd really feel the effects of the night the next morning. Graeme slurred out, "Nahhhh... I won't feel a thing tomorrow! I'll wake up and eat waffles!"
While leaning on his sister's boyfriend's arm, he declared, "I don't wanna go through the flowers... I'll get splinters!"
While working around the wine table, Graeme, once again approached us to repeatedly ask how much we were making. Barely able to stand, he declared, "I'm 6'4 when I stand up! But I'm 5'2 when I stick my arm up!!" while he extended one arm. That was probably THE BEST thing he said that night. Robin, our manager, got a little crazy (she scares me when she flirts) and said a lot of dumb shit to him, ending with, "Whooo! We're strippers!" while Graeme smiled dumbly and announced, "I have only pissed ONE time today!"
The others left me alone with Graeme and Graeme trailed me, while I cleaned up, finally grabbing me and calling out, "Missus Catering Guuurrrll!" He asked my name while loosely shaking my hand and kept insisting that he'd met me at another party, yesterday. "I know you! I met you before. I saw you before!" he repeated. In his dreams... in his bed... and in his shower. But never at a party!
A few times, he screamed at Drew with childish glee, while pointing his bony finger, "You served us foooooodddd!"
Graeme is the HAPPIEST drunk ever. I love him so.
He cornered Drew, Allie, and me as we were trying to leave... That's when the fun really began. "Why is everyone leaving? It's only 10 after 10!" he scrutinized. (Please note: the party was scheduled to end at 10:00.) His British cousin tried to apologize for Graeme but we quickly thanked her for the opportunity of Graeme. Looking at each of us, in turn, Graeme motioned to his digital wristwatch and slurred, "Do. Yooou know what time it is?" Five to eight seconds passed as he stared intently at his watch. "It is 10:10!" Pause. More scrutiny. "No...... it's actually 12 after 10 and most parties don't start until 11:30," he said, gravely and matter-of-factly. It didn't even phase him when Drew said, "What time is 11:30? Graeme time?" This boy who isn't even eligble for his driver's permit again pointed at each of us and warned, "Don't drink and drive!!" He offered to continue the party by saying, "I'll call my friend who's actually sober, and have him come over... then I'll drink so 40s and Mickeys and pass out." I said, "And then what? Wake up and we'll eat waffles?" Genuine surprise registered on his red face and he joyously cried out, "YOU like waffles? I LOOOVVE WAFFLES!!!" Then he mumbled incomprehensibly for a long time... "We can eat them with berries - what - no, we'll eat them with buttermomma!!" He launched into a confused search for the name of Aunt Jemima's (Gemima?) syrup, muttering about "the old woman bottle". He finally turned to me and screamed into my face, "I'M A WOK STAR!" And stumbled about, following us out to our cars, "WHOOOOOOOO ROCK ON!"
Why didn't Drew and I get his phone number? Or at least a picture? His drunk cousin took pictures of Graeme and us, when Graeme realized he was being captured on film, he tried to grab at the camera while making a wobbly "metal" sign. We should've asked him to call us the next time he got drunk. Well, we know where he lives.
In a way, I feel wrong about getting paid. I feel as if I should've been paying to be there. Graeme is like the gift that keeps on giving.
Rock on, Graeme. Screw it all! YEAH!
| Larry and I make it HOT. |
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| Yeah, like I said earlier... one face and one face only. |
| !!!fRiEnDs 4 eVaH!!! |
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| It's some kind of twisted miracle that I even HAVE any friends. |
| The Essential Larry |
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Larry.
... believe it or not, an entire section dedicated to THE man of ALL our dreams ...
It all began, a very, very long time ago...
"Larry is a ferry." was discovered beneath the brim of his Stoker for Congress visor.
And Larry was unleashed upon the world...
Trying to convince him to drive Maritess, Drew, and me to the NFG show in Ventura:
"If I'm driving, we have to go shopping!"
"My girlfriend calls me her little jr high schooler... because I have braces, a bad haircut, bad acne, and my mom drives me to school."
"Larry also hasn't been very sexy lately. He doesn't dress sexily anymore. He also wears that hat that covers up his sexy haircut." - Drew Noble
We all agree that perhaps his being tied down to one woman has rendered him sexiness-less. Even my sister has observed that "Diana really sucked the life force out of him." Amen, sister. Seriously, Larry ought to be shared with all the women of the world, there's definitely enough to go around. He shouldn't be claimed by one woman, who is actually a man. I don't think anyone likes Diana. She's mean and she treats Larry like crap. Sigh, Larry, sigh. Larry's not very sexy or very fun anymore.
"Larry, hold me!"
- The rallying cry of women
"Larry, you can't have me!"
- The rarely used retort of Drew, Christina, and Maritess
I call him Maverick, he calls me IceMan.
(Goose! I thought you were dead! Have you told Maverick yet?)
Larry sleeps with his ducks and they crap in his bed. Sometimes he has feathers and soft down stuck on the back of his sweatshirts after a particularly frisky tryst with his favorite duck, Webber. And no, his duck Jolene is not named after Jolene Kessler.
"Is your father a baker? Because you have nice rolls!"
- How Larry has won many a difficult woman's heart
Unfortunately, no matter how many direct quotations I provide, one can never even begin to capture or recreate the unattainable essence of Larry. This is only my sorry attempt.
"Hey hey! After you and Drew write a book about me having sex or whatever, you should write a book about all the stories I tell! Kind of like Mother Goose... only Gander Larry!"
Larry also wears red satin panties. Someday, we will start an underwear line, inspired by Larry's panties and call it "Ganderwear".
"I don't wear any red stadden panties, dammit!"
I love to grab his fat. It's like saggy, doughy intertube around his midsection.
| Happy Birthday, Larry. Or Lary. |
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| ... Because we love you and your "girl"friend doesn't ... |
Larry's girlfriend wouldn't do anything with or for Larry on his birthday, so Robbie, Sonya, Erica, and I tried to coax Larry into coming to the beach with us. Depressed on his own day of birth, a day worthy of national celebration, drunkenness, and parades in the street, we made him a present in the sand. A giant hill of sand, formed on Robbie's own sandals. We collected shells and I dragged a giant piece of kelp from the shore to his hill while people watched, bemused, disgusted, and disturbed. I wrote his name on the hill with a stick, but I forgot one of the "R"s accidentally. But it was so much better that way. He still desisted. So we were forced to ruin the surprise and confess that Sonya was waiting, naked, in the hill for Larry to come, at which point, she would dig out and spring forth for some nude Christenson fun! "If you don't come, Larry, Sonya will wait naked in that hill FOREVER," we warned. He never came.
Poor Sonya. I hope she didn't suffocate.
"You should write about our brave friend Cameron who is battling the closet! Stand tall, Cameron! Be free!"
Refusing to succumb to full blown homosexuality, it is oftentimes easiest for one to date supposed members of the opposite sex who in actuality are members of the same sex. Thus, one is able to maintain one's own pride through a series of technicalities.
Not only is Bruce Willis fine like aged wine, he's quippingly eloquent. Half this stuff makes NO SENSE at all. But, being Bruce Willis, you don't need to make sense or even speak a certifiable language, you just need a dirty wifebeater and a big gun. Oh Bruce! .... sigh.
From "The Fifth Element"
"I only speak two languages... English and bad English."
- Bruce
"You wanna play it soft, we'll play it soft. You wanna play it hard, we'll play it hard."
- Bruce
From "Die Hard 2: Die Harder"
"You're in my little pond now... and I'm the big fish!"
- Okay, not Bruce, but second best, Dennis Franz!
"Ohh, you're not pissing in somebody else's pool, are you?"
- Daddy from "Family Matters", better known as "the show that one Urkel kid was on", who befriended Bruce in "Die Hard"
"Yeahhh... and I'm fresh out of chlorine."
- Bruce
"Word is, that was your handiwork."
- Annoying, ugly reporter (Bruce only works with exceptionally 'unfortunate looking' actresses.)
"No, ma'am, I only do needlepoint."
- Bruce
"Yippee-ki-yay muthafuckas!"
- Bruce
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