Category: Just For Fun

I'm Going To Chop My Ear Off Any Day Now, Just For Fun

A Very Byronic Birthday!

Go Jules Go

I’m so excited right now, I don’t know whether to pee or squee. Wait. Do chipmunks squee? I mean I know they pee, and they give really sh*tty advice, for sure, but I guess there’s still so much I don’t know about them…where was I going with this? Oh, right:

Today is The Byronic Man‘s birthday!

You probably didn’t know that, because let’s face it, your blogger-stalking skills are just not what they ought to be. That’s where I come in.

(If you *gasp, sputter, gadzooks!* don’t know The Byronic Man, please stop everything you’re doing, tell your boss/spouse/kids/plants/Jeremiah your new garden bull frog [oh, just me?] you’re suffering from a happiness-threatening giggle deficit, and head over to his blog. You won’t be sorry. Oh and hey, while you’re there, maybe vote for me in his latest Question of the Week contest.)

B-Man and I, well, we’re like peanut butter and jelly chocolate, Balki and Larry, slap bracelets and martinis. We’ve been yucking it up for about a year now, united by our love of being awesome, adorable and more awesome the silly. From talking animals to dental hygiene to spicy food, there’s little we don’t agree on. When I read his blog, especially posts like this, somehow, the world makes sense again.

Now, this isn’t just some lame, “Hey man. I heard it was your birthday. Cool. You going out to dinner? Oh that’s nice. Have a good one!” post.

No, no. It’s so much more than that. More like in Harry Potter when they tried to get one of the horcruxes from Bellatrix Lestrange’s safe at Gringotts and everything kept multiplying. Yeah. More like that.

As far as The Byronic Man’s concerned, I’ve been working with a local printer and cardboard cut-outs are involved. This has been his only other clue:

This is my chance to show B-Man what our BFF-ship means to me. After all, he gave me a prize-winning birthday post back in April.

So, thanks to that very post, and a certain ‘kid photo’ contest I entered in May, I was able to make The Byronic Man…

The Greatest most unsettling Birthday Card of All-Time.

I learned how to do new things in PowerPoint for this.

You’re welcome, B. You. Are. Welcome.

How do you feel about giving/getting birthday surprises?

Blonde Moments, Just For Fun, Uncle Jesse

Does Anyone Know a Good Dog Therapist?

Go Jules Go

I really love fireworks, Chipmunks.

And I was convinced Uncle Jesse, my 2-year-old Australian Labradoodle, would too. After all, he’s not afraid of startling noises; his [human] father has perpetual allergy sneezes and coughs that could wake the dead.

So, brimming with an overconfidence usually reserved for Spring Breakers and Donald Trump’s hairstylist, I headed out on 4th of July with Uncle Jesse and Mr. Sneeze in tow.

Here’s what happened:

Have you ever scarred your own pets or children for life?

Just For Fun, Uncle Jesse

Happy Independence Day!

Go Jules Go

To my fellow Americans, and anyone else who believes in freedom, equality and really, REALLY good barbecue…

Happy Independence Day!

I wasn’t going to post today, but Uncle Jesse had something to tell you:

Any plans for today? How mad are you that we have to go back to work tomorrow (if you don’t, listen, don’t be a snot-bucket and rub it in)?

Just For Fun, Lists, TV Junkie

Choose Your Own Adventure Friday

Go Jules Go

To protect the innocent devilishly awesome, let’s just say a friend of a friend of a monkey’s uncle knows someone who’s been posting really interesting things on Facebook lately.

Now I know I just talked about the social media ‘over share’ disease in my last post. Normally I have an allergic reaction to my Facebook wall, and simply just try to remember to wish people a happy birthday, but hearing this tale unfold like an episode of 90210, well… I’m riveted.

This FOAFOAFOAMU (Friend Of A Friend Of A Friend Of A Monkey’s Uncle, geesh, try to keep up) has been posting about their newly lavish lifestyle. There are expensive houses (okay, just one. THAT I KNOW OF), vacations, big parties, pricey day trips, you name it. Something new on the daily.

You see, it just doesn’t make any sense. It doesn’t add up. I mean, literally. The money. It doesn’t add up. Where is it coming from? My first thought was: Well, they probably just inherited dough from a relative.

Zeal thinks they stole it. Of course he does.

But where’s the fun in that? Here are other options I’ve come up with:

They…

  • founded a covert but obviously successful Mail Order Second Husband business. …Dang. Why didn’t I think of that? Oh wait, I did. Score
  • developed a frozen margarita that doesn’t cause brain freeze or bad decisions
  • figured out a way to make cars punch people when they don’t use their blinkers
  • discovered bacon that doesn’t splatter molten hot grease when you fry it
  • invaded Gayle’s mind via her dreams (a la Inception) and got the number to Oprah’s Swiss bank account. The one they were using to pay for their secret wedding and deserted island
  • are murder-for-hire assassins, but that’s not how they made their fortune. While they were hunting down terrorists in really awesome disguises and black leather pants, they stumbled across a fountain of youth in a remote part of the Australian outback, and now sell each drop for anywhere from 100k-1 million, depending on how old rich you are. By the by, did anyone else love the book Tuck Everlasting when they were kids? Why didn’t they make all these awesome books into movies when I was the appropriate age to enjoy them?

I’d keep going, but I’ve got to go catch a train…

…because…

Peppermeister (Husband Numero Uno) and I are going to see a taping of Late Night with Jimmy Fallon!

Now there’s something I didn’t make up today.

Me too, Zest. Me too.

I hope you Chipmunks have a wonderful weekend, full of Facebook fantasies and fascinating friendships. (And alliteration. But I’ve got you covered there. No, no. It’s my pleasure.)

Are you captivated by any particular person’s social media over shares? Tell me everything.

Chipmunks Forever, Just For Fun

And the Winner of the Cage Fight, I Mean, ‘Stache Glasses IS…

Go Jules Go

You Chipmunks are so clever. That’s why I do these things.

And you’re no fools, either. Most of you wisely appealed to my vanity and/or fantasy life with your amazing ‘win a pair of mustache glasses‘ entries, in which I asked you to submit a juicy, probing question.

As promised, I have picked a favorite question and am answering it here. This particular entry really stuck with me; much like scorpion paperweights, I couldn’t stop thinking about it, even when I wanted to.

So please, raise your tiny, adorable, chipmunk paws and give a warm round of applause to…

dearchristiancounselor!

Dearchristiancounselor’s (a.k.a. Louise’s) question was:

If you and [your mom] Babs had a cage fight, who would win and how?

Louise, needless to say, it got really, really ugly between Babs and me. Before I reveal the winner of the cage fight, let me take you back in time, to how it all started…

Babs and I were spending another typical Saturday out shopping, me shielding her from mom jeans, her encouraging me to spend actual money. Of course we were ultimately killing time until booze o’clock. We figured we could make it until at least noon.

12:01pm.

A few [dozen] Long Island Iced Teas in, Babs decided she couldn’t stay away from Talbots any longer.

“If you do this, Babs, we’re through,” I threatened. Had she forgotten so soon? This was the very same clothing store that suggested, just one year ago, I try their curvy line of pants.

“Just five minutes,” she pleaded. I watched her pass through the wretched red doors in disbelief.

She emerged, as promised, five minutes later, wearing pleated khaki pants, a braided leather belt, white mock turtleneck and navy sweater vest with apples and pears stitched on it.

“I can’t even look at you,” I muttered.

“Listen, Chipmunk-san, do you want to take this to the cage?”

I considered her for a long moment. In that get-up, she wasn’t my mother. She was the enemy.

“You’re on!” I cried.

A Talbots saleswoman in a referee jersey appeared, and pretty soon we were pulling out our best roundhouse kicks and other things that people may or may not do while cage fighting.

“I loved you too much, was that the problem?” Babs cried, shielding herself from my [cute yet affordable] high-heeled kicks.

“You never bought me that American Girl doll!” I hollered back. “Samantha was all class, all the time! I had to learn how to eat petit fours by myself! What did you think was going to happen?”

“You never comment on my Facebook pictures,” she continued in the same martyred voice.

“Tap shoes! I said. “Remember those? Of course you don’t! I don’t either!” I ducked before she could ruin my make-up.

“And we never talk about ‘NSync anymore. Remember when you bedazzled that striped fleece shirt to say ‘Justin’ for the one concert?”

I narrowed my eyes, “Just for that, I’m never having kids.”

Babs paused, her fist in the air. She lowered her arm and replied, “Good. I don’t even like your dog.”

My jaw dropped. While I tried to gather myself, she clocked me right where it counts – in the heart.

And so, unsurprisingly, the winner of the cage fight is:

Babs.

She fights dirty.

Congrats, Louise! Email me your address and your ‘stache glasses of choice, and get ready to become the most illin’ chipmunk on the block!

Didja have fun? Should I make this a recurring contest? (With a new topic each time?)

Just For Fun, Uncategorized

Ask Me About My ‘Stache…And Win Your Own!

Go Jules Go

So, I think it’s pretty clear I’m an addict.

I’m not even talking about the chipmunk thing.

They’ve been quiet lately. This concerns me.

Or the Second Husband fixation.

Quite frankly, committing to one husband is just plain near-sighted.

Or the vodka dependency.

They cancel each other out.

I’m talking about giveaways.

Now that my slap bracelet giveaway/comeback campaign has wound down, I feel a little empty inside. Or I did, until I realized something.

‘Stache Glasses.

No caption could do these glasses justice.

Those amazing glasses in my header and profile picture! Why did I not buy them when I had the chance?! Back in April, I simply tried ’em on, took that picture, and moved on. While I loved them, the price tag seemed steep. I had no idea they’d become the new me.

Last week, I realized I had to rectify this grave error in judgment. Immediately. So I went hunting for that same pair of mustache-y goodness.

I was deeply moved to find there is an entire ARRAY of ‘stache glasses to tickle your follicle fancy. (Note: I am in no way associated with this company, but am happy to sell out at the first opportunity, so please. Email me.)

Now that I’m marvelously mustachioed once more…

…I am going to share my bacon with you.

That’s right. I want to send you a pair of mustache glasses! So, in the comments section below, ask me a juicy, probing question (PG-13 or safer please, Chipmunks; Babs [my mom] reads this blog).

I’ll  choose a favorite and answer the question in a post on Friday, June 22, 2012. This winner can pick a pair of ‘stache glasses (by browsing here), and I’ll have them shipped as a gift, from my guilty pleasure-full heart to theirs. 

Deadline: 12pm noon EST, Thursday, June 21, 2012.

…I love you.

Print that’s as fine as that Liam guy from “90210”: This giveaway is open to anyone who is willing and able to ask a kick-chipmunk-tail question, and to email me their address in the event that they’re the winner. If you have any trouble leaving a question in the comments section below, you can ask your question via email: Julie (dot) Davidoski (at) yahoo (dot) com. Multiple submissions are acceptable.

Family Ties, Just For Fun, Uncategorized

My Dad Saved My Life. And Then We Went to Burger King.

Go Jules Go

Recently, I may have suggested my dad was only one of the great things to come out of Long Island. The truth is, not a lot of people can do the things my dad does. Like, he can read in the car without getting sick. And he makes really good steak. Not at the same time; don’t be ridiculous.

Oh and when I was 2, I was way ahead of my time and awesome I saw a swimming pool and was like, “Deep end, here I COME!” Bam, I jumped in to join my older brother and sister, and my chubby bum sunk straight to the bottom. Without a second thought, my dad lept in to save me, breaking his glasses along the way.

I think that’s why we get along so well. I could have been all, “Well, you brought me into this world, it’s your job to keep me here,” but instead I was like, “Thanks for that, Pop. One day I’ll join the swim team and make you proud stay afloat.”

As if that wasn’t enough, he used to take me on father-daughter trips to Bowcraft, this tiny, creepy amusement park next to a highway, and then across the street to Burger King. Those were the days, back when trans fat was what was for dinner, and winning enough tickets to get chinese finger cuffs was all you needed.

My dad is also a genius. I mean, yeah, okay, the real kind with a doctorate and Ivy League-y things, but whatever. I mean the practical kind of genius. Street smarts. Case in point: We used to go on long road trips in a small car, with all three kids crammed in the backseat. It was a recipe for disaster. So he came up with something called the Points System. We earned points for being good, and got them taken away when we were bad.

If we didn’t have enough points by the time we got to Burger King, we weren’t eating.

I know, right? Genius.

Happy Father’s Day, Pop! (Does this post win me any bonus points?)

He still has his hair. And I can easily get more barrettes…

What stories about your dad make you laugh?

Just For Fun, Kvetching, Uncategorized, Wipe the Drool

Oh, Please, No. MY Childhood Relived?!

Go Jules Go
Oh sure. This looks like a precious baby book to YOU. But what’s inside would make Stephen King cry.

Okay. We all know I have a great family, yadda yadda, and things couldn’t have been that bad growing up if I was on a swim team and had the language skills to say “Oh! Bless you!” after I heard someone cut the cheese when I was 2, blah blah blah…

Oh yeah. It’s all fine and dandy in the beginning.

…but there’s a dark side to my childhood.

I’m lulling you into a false sense of security with my sparse ‘cute’ pictures.

I’m revealing the horror thanks to an exceptional blog called Childhood Relived. At Childhood Relived, Angie Z. focuses on growing up in the 80s, which I think we can all agree is inherently funny. But her quick-wit and memory to match make this blog a non-stop Giggle Fest. I can tell you from corresponding with Angie via email that she is an extremely talented writer, both in and outside of the blogosphere.

Angie has an ongoing Dynomite! contest in which readers submit their most embarrassing childhood pictures.

I don’t know what possessed me to enter.

Because what began as this:

I wish that t-shirt still fit.

Somehow turned into, well, click here to find out.

***SUPER IMPORTANT ALERT THAT YOUR HAPPINESS PROBABLY DEPENDS ON: I’m wrapping up the Go Guilty Pleasures slap bracelet extravaganza, so if you have any unseen slap bracelet pictures, I hope you’ll send them to me at Julie.Davidoski@yahoo.com. Oh and I think you’re swell. Even if you don’t have a slap bracelet.***

Just For Fun, Lists, Uncategorized

How Would You Spend Your Fantasy Fortune?

Go Jules Go
This upsets me more than you could possibly ever know.

Sometimes, when I’m not busy fantasizing about getting paid to blog about guilty pleasures or chipmunk tea parties, or asking myself why on EARTH anyone would put a scorpion in a paperweight, I like to think about money.

Money is very important to me, because I like living in a house and going to movie theaters where they serve you beer.

I often ask myself: What would I do if I had REAL

I’d really have to watch out for Zeal.

money? More specifically, 1 million dollars? Would I allow myself to indulge in any guilty pleasures (like, I don’t know, say, a state-of-the-art karaoke machine)?

My answer might surprise you. But you can blame the cost of living in New Jersey. Here’s what I’d do:

1. Pay off the mortgage. Quit my job.

2. Pay off the mortgage.

3. Hoard Invest the remaining $100. …Kidding. But I would invest the rest.

4. That’s it. (Unless my investments pay off, then I would travel, travel, travel!)

I know. My answer is so boring. Which is why I really want hear YOUR answer.

So, if you were given 1 million U.S. dollars (after taxes – it’s all yours), what would you do? How would you spend it? Any guilty pleasures? Would you loan/give any to family or friends (…you would, wouldn’t you? Don’t you ever watch those specials about lottery winners? You are so one step away from wiring money to a “bank” in Nigeria)?

Photo Credits

Just For Fun, Lists, Uncategorized

Being Sick is No Laughing Matter. Okay. It Totally Is.

Go Jules Go

Chipmunks.

I really hope those of you with blogs aren’t writing anything good right now. Just try to hold off for a few more days, okay?

Because I’m sick.

And did you know bronchitis / sinusitis warrants opiates in the form of cough suppressant pills?

Whoa.

In my head last night, I wrote a whole post that ended in, “Is this real life?” In my head last night, I responded to all of your comments with funny, meaningful insights, like, “I can’t feel my legs.” In my head last night, I still had a voice, and that voice could SING!

Let’s just be glad all of that stayed in my head. Unlike this list:

Things That Made Me Cough Laugh About Being High Sick

Don’t stare directly at them! …And don’t check the basement.
  • Telling the nurse, who asked for my family health history, that “we all croak from cancer”
  • Discharge papers that say both “avoid dairy” and “eat yogurt if taking antibiotics”
  • After the nurse felt my throat and asked, “How does this make you feel?” me saying, “Like coughing all over you”
  • …Dang. I guess that’s it.

Now, if you’ll excuse me. I have to get back to High School Musical. …These kids don’t look high at all.

…Is this real life?