Thursday, August 4, 2011

You Don't Keep a Boyfriend?

So much for my resolution to post at least once a week.  Carolyn and I moved last weekend, though, and I’m currently on vacation with my family, so it’s been a busy 10 days.  In case you were wondering, Boner Killers ended up with the most votes in the poll to name our wireless network.  Here were the final numbers:

500DaysOfWinter: 1
Mirror Sex: 2
League of Extraordinary Powerhours: 5
Bartlet4America: 5
Boner Killers: 7
Desbecvay: 0
Aioli is Just Fancy Mayo: 5

Anticipating our parents visiting and asking which network they could connect to, though, we decided to go with one of the second place winners for obvious reasons.  So, like a pageant queen caught in a Shia LaBeouf sex tape (which he leaked to the press in exchange for Paul Mitchell hair gel), Boner Killers was forced to relinquish her crown to Bartlet4America.  Password: POTUSINABICYCLEACCIDENT. 

Here are some of my favorite moments of moving weekend:

1) This weird letter left in the dresser drawer of the furnished room I had been subleasing:

You were supposed to give them the note, as well.
Don't you respect them at all?

2) The cab driver asking me, “You don’t keep a boyfriend?”  Umm.. it isn’t a spare tire, shithead.  You don’t keep… a job that doesn’t involve cleaning drunk girls’ vomit out of seat belts?  You don’t keep… a firm grasp of the English language?  You don’t keep… the change?  I guess he heard we're boner killers.

3) The laundromat lady asking me if I had a dog.  Nope, I just lose a lot of hair when I'm stressed.  Bitch.  What the hell kind of dog are you talking about?  This one?

4) Walking to my new apartment to meet the Sleepy's guy who was delivering my mattress, turning onto my block, and overhearing a middle-aged woman who looked like a brunette Charo saying, "Oh my gawdddd, you're never going to believe what I just did.  I threw up in the doggie day spa."  I hangover-vommed in the Studebagels back at Notre Dame once.  You win.

5) Ikea instruction manuals

1 comment:

  1. I am more than disappointed that you didn't choose the rightful winner, you dictator.