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Archive for the ‘humor’ Category

My dad has this thing for Jared Leto. I couldn’t explain it, and neither could he. I made fun of him for a while, until he gave me a copy of the new 30 seconds to mars CD. Then I understood.

While I loved the CD, I wasn’t quiet turned on to the cult experience… yet. My dad had been to concerts with his girlfriends. Friends that are girls. He’s not a playa he just crushes a lot. Being 55 I often wondered how he fit in. Did he stick out in the sea of teenagers? He came back with black t-shirts with skulls on them. He’d send me videos and posts to my facebook about them. I was beginning to worry.

My sister, so graciously, got my dad and I a pair of tickets for their January show in Louisville, Kentucky. I love going to concerts, especially ones emphasising crowd interaction. I had been to Girl Talk a few weeks before this and I danced my ass off. I was really excited.

We pulled up to the venue. It was a warehouse in a flea market. Jared loves playing small stages my father insisted, he sells them out. I could totally see that, by the incredibly long line forming around the building. It was 7PM and the doors were opening. It was 30 degrees outside.

It took is 55 minutes to get into the door.

Once inside I was faced with many choices: wait in line for the bathroom or pee on myself? Watch the warm up band on the other stage or stake out a spot to stand for the concert? Go get a drink or pee on myself? It was a long drive and I had a lot of soda. The crowd was  a mix of young and old, boys and girls, loose jeans and skinny jeans.  Lots of black t-shirts.

After finally finding a bathroom and a decent spot to stand, the warm up band came on at 8:30, rocked it, and were off the stage by 9. I was so ready to see 30STM. It had been a long day of driving, then standing, and all I wanted to do was move around and sing the songs. 9:10. 9:25. 9:37. 952. Seriously, where were they? Just when I was about to give up, buckle in my knees and sit on the trashy ground… 10:02, on they came.

oh hey, are you pointing at me?

The crowd moved inward. We were all smashed against each other. My attention focused on my poor father, who must have been crushed by the moving crowd. Not only was he fine, he was jumping up and down like a maniac. And then, so was I. It was only 3 songs into the set when I knew I had to be closer. I turned around, the tallest man the room was standing behind me. He was like the Yao of hipsters. I whispered in his ear, and within seconds he had lifted me up and I was tossed on top of the crowd. I floated away toward the stage. I was the first crowd surfer of the concert.

I had never done that before. I have no idea what came over me. It just felt awesome. I was tossed to the front of the stage and was lifted over the railing by security. They set me down. I was now in the in-between. To my left, the stage. To my right, the crowd. In front of me, a row of security and hot girl groupies. While security tossed a lot of the surfers back, they let me stay. The groupies cuddled up with me and sang every song at the top of my lungs. Most of them didn’t know the words.

between a rock and a hard place

For the final number, Jared Leto picked a bunch of fans to join him on stage. There I was in my white leather jacket, on stage with Jared Leto. I waved to my dad somewhere in the crowd. We are going to remember this moment for the rest of our lives! yelled the 26-year-old dude next to me. I wasn’t sure who he was talking to, but I was totally agreeing with him in my head. I stood between the bass player and the drummer, and in my mind, maybe in life too, Jared Leto totally made eye contact with me a few times. And he definitely waved to me as he left the stage (thats true).

come here, Kelly

Best. Night. Ever.

p.s. has anyone seen my dad?

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I took a trip to San Antonio last week. I arrived with a smile and ambition and left with the taste of tequila in my mouth and a huge black and purple bruise on my hip.  The photo below should explain a lot…
 

smile por favor

 

That is me, in a sombrero, with a dart in my hand. This looks like a scary situation I am sure but please believe that I am quite alright. I just had 1 margarita at the time.  3 drinks later I was still feeling good. I spend my first night in San Antonio learning to throw, playing rock music on the juke box and eating shelled peanuts at the bar.  

I won’t indulge you with the details of why I was there, just know this: San Antonio is dangerous.  

Besides the obvious “getting pelted in the head with a dart by a tipsy blonde in a sombrero”, there are a few reasons why if you want to visit San Antonio, you should do so with a Helmet.  

Below are the reasons why:  

Rudy's.

 

1.  Risk of Heart Attack  

It’s not the Mexican food that will kill you, it’s the BBQ. This is Rudy’s. It’s known for having The Worst Bar-B-Q in Texas. At Rudy’s you order food by the serving, which for meat is 1/4 a pound.
 
Dang.
 
Rudy’s will hand you an empty cola case as a tray and load you up with enough country food to feed a small army of barefoot Kentucky children.
 
 Another factor for heart attack would be the giant Texas margaritas; that’s a whole different ballgame.
2. Being too touristy
 

Is that a smile?

 

At the Alamo, a Texas treasure, my friends were playing up on my lack of knowledge and telling me to ask around about the basement in the Alamo. I wasn’t going to fall for that one, but I was persuaded to ask an Alamo guard to take a photo with me.
 
“He’ll love it” my friend insisted. “Say that you have always wanted to meet a Texas Ranger.”
 
He was less than enthusiastic about me calling him a Texas Ranger and I believe with all of my being that he would have reached out and punched me had we not been in public.
 
Don’t taze me bro!
 
 

The Alamo

 

I also went to the Alamo during the day so that I could get a peek inside. Here I was among other touristy people so the chances of a Alamo guard smack-down were a bit slim. 

and it was good.

 

  There was a lot more to see during the day, including a garden area with a wicked cool old tree, some canons and artifacts.  

I love it. And I was smart enough to know not to disrespect The Alamo. Texas know how to keep they pimp hands strong.  

3. Falling into the river walk  

Ok, it probably wouldn’t kill you to fall into the 3 feet of water that makes up the famous San Antonio River Walk, but you could certainly catch a nasty cold from all the ewwie goowie stuff that’s in there.  

purdy.

 

Paroozing the River Walk was certainly an enjoyable part of the day. There are hundreds of hotels, shops, restaurants and ducks located along the man-made river’s edge.  

Everyone once in a while you will see a boat loaded with out-of-towners headed down the water with a loud tourguide yelling about a historic marker.  

I enjoyed the pumpkin spice latte I got from Starbucks as I walked up and down and up and down every part of that walkway. It was fall, but it was still 80 degree in Texas.  

Along the way I did come across another touristy thing to do, that will no doubt point out to everyone around you that you are in fact a tourist, that you don’t care if they know it and that you are willing to look ridiculous. This event is known as The Trying On of the Coon Skin Hat.  

so fetch.

 

  

4. Smoke inhallation
 
San Antonio is one of the few cities left that lets their patrons suck on a cancer stick in public and private places. From my cold dead hands, right Texas?
 
I met up with some friends and headed down to a restaurant and a few bars, only to be consumed in a death cloud of tobacco. I feel like such a weenie but my eyes were burning and I could feel the smell soaking up into my hair. I did the only thing I could think of to put myself in a better mood… I went over the juke box, I slumped over, and I pouted.
 
This is a classic sign of, “I want to hear Hall and Oats, but gee, I have no money.”
 
Works like a charm! Thanks pink shirt guy!
 
The best part of the night, and coincidently, the most painful part of my trip comes with San Antonio’s Hazard #5…
 
5. Fall off of the World Largest Pair of Cowboy Boots
There is probably a reason why they surround them with sharp and point cactus plants. I was hoping it was just for decoration and not to try and keep people off of them.
 
After several attemps of trying to climb them, slipping off and trying again, I managed to find the best way up. 
The next challange was trying to figure out how to get my friend up too.

great success

She is a bit shorter than me so I ended up just pulling her up.  

The hardest part by far was trying to get down without landing in a cactus.
My friend shouted, “just jump I will catch you!” Standing at 5 feet and weighing in at 115 lbs, I highly doubted she would have the strength to hold me as I tumbled down this monster.
team.

So I just jumped. I hit the side of the boot and I bruised myself like a peach.  

I did not see a sign that said not to climb on these, so I am sure I am not the only jerk that has hurt themself on these things. Still, next time I go to San Antonio, I will know to procede with caution.
 
Cheers!

   

 

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There is a new TV show that I am currently obsessed with. It is called “Who do you think you are?” and it traces the heritage and ancestry of various stars of the silver screen, like Sarah Jessica Parker and Brooke Shields. Having used Hulu.com to watch all the episode I missed, I came to question my very heritage after learning that Spike Lee could have been a possible relative to his own great great great great grandfather’s slave master. Anything is possible.     

I was in search for something cool. I got the 14 day free trial from ancestry.com and began to research and I traced my relatives back to Germany, Prussia, one relative was born at sea, and another was a distant relative to Theresa Neumann, who was a famous saint who claims to have had the stigmata…   wowza.     

German Night

 

With my blonde hair, blue eyes and fair complexion, I knew my homes of being a descendant of Pocahontas were short-lived, but I was excited to see a little mix of English and French flair in my bloodline. I even saw census records and military enlistment documents of my great ancestors. I come from a pretty baller family. I need to embrace that.     

So being 99.9% German and living in Zinzinnati, where German heritage flourished in the 1800s and 1900s, I am super excited for Oktoberfest, happening this month.     

The Cincinnati Reds celebrated German Heritage night on Friday and we were given cute little shirts to wear. But being everydayadventuregirl, I went to step further to add my own pigtails, skirt and German hat I purchased last Oktoberfest and had yet had the opportunity to wear. What’s that, opportunity? You’re-a-knockin? Here I come.     

so cute

 

The festivities began with a dance on the field by cute little children dressed in adorable German garb. Even Gapper, the Cincinnati Reds mascot, had on his German apparel.     

The night rolled around into the 12th inning as the Reds struggled to turn the tie into a win.      

I was sitting next to the bull pen when I heard the phone ring and saw the crowd break into a thunderous roar as Chapman finished warming up and took the mound.      

Reds win. Awesome night to be a German.      

 

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I love you, Benny

 
marry me.

Ever since I was a little girl, I have had the biggest crush on Benny from The Sandlot. I know that sounds weird now, saying this as an adult woman, but lets not forget that he grows up to be quite the foxy baseball player.

 
Mike Vitar, who played Benny in the movie, is now a fire fighter living in Los Angeles. This is according to Wikipedia, not my own stalking abilities. Many a time I wondered what it would be like to run into him in the streets, but it’s not hiiiiiiiim that I love, it’s Benny.
 
Benny was a good friend to Scottie. He taught him baseball and gave him his first real glove. He was the best player on the team. He wore awesome blue jeans and chuck taylors. He grows a killer mustache in the major leagues. He pickled the beast, whatever that means….
 
Please Benny. Please. Marry me.
 
If not, tell Squintz to dump Wendy Preffercorn, and give me a ring-a-ding on the telephone.
 
I also have a thing for glasses.

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Brew Ha Ha

flyers

This past weekend I had the pleasure of performing my stand up material at the annual Cincinnati Brew Haha comedy and beer festival held at Sawyer Point. The event features over 80 different types of beer, over 50 comedians, and 1 million laughs, although I doubt that can be verified.   

The Brew Ha Ha featured headliners like Tim Wilson and Bobcat Goldthwaite with local favorites like Josh Sneed, Drew Hastings and more.   

My favorite part of the night was in the middle of my set when a large red firework exploded out of the ballpark and could be heard from the stage, Reds Home Run!   

Me on The Other Stage

 

The Reds win and seeing my favorite comedians like Ryan Hamilton and Alex Stone really made the night pretty magical for me.   

I even got a delicious shaved ice in bananas and sour apple. Good choice.   

The Saturday show included a performance by The Underbelly, a comedy troop this girl is a big fan of, and a song by the rapping housewife Suzy Jenkins.   

Great times. Great laughs. Great weekend.   

Now if you excuse me, The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2 is on…

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Easy Velvet

Last month I told my girlfriends that I had never been on a horse. Refusing to believe it, they quickly scheduled a day to take me out and break me.    

same hair

 

After signing the liability waiver and being told that I didn’t really need a helmet on my first time riding, and that I “should be ok, as long as I don’t fall off and break my head”, it would be a understantment to say that I was a little nervous.    

 
I was given a horse named Velvet for my first ride. I picked her because she was blonde and sweet, like me. My friends chose to ride the beautiful beasts Muddy, Solider Boy, Kia and my poor friend Erin got stuck with Lucy, who I heard the owner refer to as Lucifer when saying “make sure the new girl doesn’t get that one”.
 
I had been on a pony once when I was a kid. Boy, that was some adventure. We went in a circle, three times! I thought I had experienced the extent of what these creatures had to offer, but my friends assured me that this was going to be something I wouldn’t forget.
 
I was told I would be following the cowboy instructor and leading my pack of friends. He wanted me close by since I was the least experienced and the most sarcastic when it came to listening to his directions.
 

looking for my seat belt

 

expert riders

 

Our cowboy quickly gave us nicknames that he made up on the spot when yelling at us. He refered to my friend Megan as “Payless” after misreading her last name, Bayless. Payless was constantly being told to “keep up”. Her horse was huge and a little old and it didn’t really want to participate the in group activity. Erin’s name was usually shouted, followed by “If that mule doesn’t move just give it a kick!” Elizabeth and Emily rode behind me and weren’t usually talked to, since they knew what they were doing and just trotted along. I was refered to lovingly as “Blondie” and was told to steer my horse like a car and watch out for trees.    

"Payless" on Kia

 

The first part of the trail was easy enough, until we reached a steep hill covered in mud. We were told to lean back in our saddles and point our toes up so we didn’t fall off. It was quite the abdominal workout.    

 
Every once in a while we would stop for a second, mainly so our cowboy could yell at Erin, and our horses would try to eat whatever plant was in sight. Then wewould take off really fast and I would be forced to stand up a little on my horse, or face the consequences of a bruised butt later.
 
Going fast on the horse was thrilling, however I felt no control over Velvet whatsoever. In fact, I pretty much let her steer herself which is not what you are supposed to do. I learned my lesson when she got close enough to a tree for her to pass by it unharmed. She must have forgotten that I was on her. She would have never run my leg into a tree on purpose.

um, giddy up?

 

We wandered through the woods for 45 minutes. We went up hills, down hills and across streams.
 
“Come on Payless! Come on Erin!” our cowboy would yell at us as he practically sat backwards on this horse to observe our ride.  “Good job Blondie,” he would praise,  for I had not fallen off of the horse and killed myself… yet.
 
On the last leg of our trail our cowboy told us we would be moving quickly, and to again stand up a little on the horse to avoid being hit in the crotch. Here we go!
 
Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. EASY VELVET! GEEZ! Ouch. Ouch.
 
 
Pulling into the stables after a long ride was a relief. I really enjoyed myself, and I had gotten a good workout with tensing up my muscles and trying not to fall off and all.
 

playboy cowboy

 

Our cowboy was super excited that we wanted to get a photo with him. He referred to himself as “Playboy Cowboy” with a huge smile.
 
 
My adventure riding as horse was certainly a fun one. I didn’t expect that as soon as I got off of Velvet, I wanted to get back on immediately to keep riding.
 
But I knew I had to go home. I needed to take some aspirin and ice myself in unusual places.
 
 
 
 

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I hate Miami, trick

 
I can’t pronounce it.

 Friday evening, after I was done with what I had come to do, I drove to Miami which was about 25 minutes from where I was staying in Ft. Lauderdale. Why? I am still wondering that myself.   

I’ve been to Miami before. I did not like it then. I did not like it now. Everyone is rude. Everyone is in a hurry. Everyone sucks. Just saying…   

I went to that place that the cast of Jersey Shore worked at the summer their show was filming in Miami, because I’m a total idiot. Actually, I just wanted some damn ice cream. It was really hot, and it was a place that was there.   

I waited in line behind 15 of the biggest groupies I had ever seen in my life. Ice cream groupies. They loved Jersey Shore so much that they wanted to get pictures of the dude that worked there (I guess he was their boss on the show) and was on television for approximately for 35 seconds….   

I'm famous.

 

This guy.   

And as I waited patiently in the air-conditioned hell, I didn’t even lose my temper, a la Larry David, when they each sampled 97 flavors of ice cream before deciding on chocolate and vanilla, because to me it was hysterical.   

8 days later I made my choice, some fatty Oreo cookie thing. Size small. $4. Perfect I’ll take it now get me out of here.   

I was fist pumping on my merrily way when I took the first bite. It tasted like hair gel.   

I hate Miami.

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