Waaahooo! She finally went ahead a "did it"! Yes, it's true, I do cave easily under peer pressure, so I made a blog. It's geeky as hell, but I embrace my geekhood. All you peeps who complain about my 'novels', brace yourselves. This is the first, so it'll be a long one as they prolly all will be, until I run out of things to say and time to say them...shaaaa. And what are you doing on MY blog anyway? You should have known, sucker. blog. blooooooog. It's just fun to say.
First off, the title of my bloggy was inspired by Queen Bee Matt, my old manager when I worked at the music store, The Wall, for 5 minutes while at Dork Collge of PA (don't worry Nicholas, you are and always will be the only "blay" in my life, he's a "whay" and I hated him, I swear). Me and the boy I worked with, Trag (some of you remember Trag, he's the one who would hang his testicle outside of his jeans zipper and wait for you to notice it) used to shrink wrap cd's with a hairdryer in the back for hours, because as you know, this is a two-person job. We would jam out to scary music with devil voices like, Mr Bungle and Gwar, and he'd wrap, I'd shrink. Mainly because it would have apparently made him gay to hold the hair dryer. Made sense to me.
He was called Queen Bee Matt for obvious reasons, but add to that his addiction to speed, his constant smoking, the fact that he had zero percent body fat and that he was one of those scary people who moved around so fast, you almost didn't see it...you'd be talking and there he'd be right in from you all of a sudden (a la Emilio Lopez, the butler in Mr. Deeds: I hail from Spain sir!) Well one day we were shrink wrappin to da beat, and QB got all in a tizzy from trying to make someone's drawer balance who everyone knew was stealing anyway and he flipped out and threw the money bag all over the back room and cash was fluttering down from every direction, and he actually roared (it was a gay roar though). I tried not to make direct eye contact, nor giggle, which was quite the feat, as Trag was looking at me trying to make me laugh. So, naturally, a small burst of laugh-air escaped my lips and he came barreling towards me, red as a beet, and said: "Pick it up! And that's it! Only one shrink wrapper at a time back here, you little MF's have too much fun...and frankly, a monkey with a bell on his tail could replace you!!!"
Now, come on! It might have been true, but the bell? on the tail? that's just insult to injury...overkill really. And, you know, I speak for all primates when I say, that's just mean to monkeys (if you knew Trag) and they resent that. But, I still maintain: would a monkey be able to help a local York townie find that long lost "Kixx-gone-Funny-Money" album just from listening to him hum two lines and sing a verse and say, "wait, let me start over, that wasnt good, it goes...(insert horrible noises)..."? I think NOT. And by the way, yeah, that wasn't good, guy. Would a monkey be able to find Bette Milder's Greatest Hits just by listening to a woman with a femullet say, "it's the one song...doooo...doot...daaaaa...and it's got the word love in it." NO. But nice work QB Matt. It stuck. I am in fact a monkey with a bell on my tail in every job I have now, whether it's cd stocker, prize wheel girl for 100.7 the Colt, or Marketing Director at an undisclosed location that might or might not have a Bat Cave. So Queen Bee, you are a man of real genius, and I salute you Mr. highstrung-gay-cigarette smoking-bitchy-tantrum having-money throwing-name caller man! In your honor, I name my blog after my official monkey name (which is more important than my confirmation name at this point in life). Plus, come on...monkeys are just funny. ;)
Alrighty my lil Napoleon Dynamites, grandma called and she wants you to leave! She says your ruining everybody's lives and eating all her steak, GOSH!!! I'm out like an albino in flashlight tag!
Peace!
(NOTICE: no albinos were injured in the making of that sophomoric joke and if in any way the content of that joke resembles you or anyone you know, it is coincidental only. thank you. )
First off, the title of my bloggy was inspired by Queen Bee Matt, my old manager when I worked at the music store, The Wall, for 5 minutes while at Dork Collge of PA (don't worry Nicholas, you are and always will be the only "blay" in my life, he's a "whay" and I hated him, I swear). Me and the boy I worked with, Trag (some of you remember Trag, he's the one who would hang his testicle outside of his jeans zipper and wait for you to notice it) used to shrink wrap cd's with a hairdryer in the back for hours, because as you know, this is a two-person job. We would jam out to scary music with devil voices like, Mr Bungle and Gwar, and he'd wrap, I'd shrink. Mainly because it would have apparently made him gay to hold the hair dryer. Made sense to me.
He was called Queen Bee Matt for obvious reasons, but add to that his addiction to speed, his constant smoking, the fact that he had zero percent body fat and that he was one of those scary people who moved around so fast, you almost didn't see it...you'd be talking and there he'd be right in from you all of a sudden (a la Emilio Lopez, the butler in Mr. Deeds: I hail from Spain sir!) Well one day we were shrink wrappin to da beat, and QB got all in a tizzy from trying to make someone's drawer balance who everyone knew was stealing anyway and he flipped out and threw the money bag all over the back room and cash was fluttering down from every direction, and he actually roared (it was a gay roar though). I tried not to make direct eye contact, nor giggle, which was quite the feat, as Trag was looking at me trying to make me laugh. So, naturally, a small burst of laugh-air escaped my lips and he came barreling towards me, red as a beet, and said: "Pick it up! And that's it! Only one shrink wrapper at a time back here, you little MF's have too much fun...and frankly, a monkey with a bell on his tail could replace you!!!"
Now, come on! It might have been true, but the bell? on the tail? that's just insult to injury...overkill really. And, you know, I speak for all primates when I say, that's just mean to monkeys (if you knew Trag) and they resent that. But, I still maintain: would a monkey be able to help a local York townie find that long lost "Kixx-gone-Funny-Money" album just from listening to him hum two lines and sing a verse and say, "wait, let me start over, that wasnt good, it goes...(insert horrible noises)...
Alrighty my lil Napoleon Dynamites, grandma called and she wants you to leave! She says your ruining everybody's lives and eating all her steak, GOSH!!! I'm out like an albino in flashlight tag!
Peace!
(NOTICE: no albinos were injured in the making of that sophomoric joke and if in any way the content of that joke resembles you or anyone you know, it is coincidental only. thank you. )
2 Comments:
Location:
Baltimore, Maryland, Zimbabwe (????)
I remember Trag.... your roommate Liz and I laid topless on your bed once with him during a game of True or Dare (when Linz was messing around on the pull-out couch at your off-campus apartment).
Nikki
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