Have a Nice Life

Going to a college reunion doesn't just mean reuniting with your old friends, it also means reuniting with your old acquaintances. Katy found this out the hard way when she greeted "Marjorie". Except that Marjorie's name is actually Miri, and Miri told her as much, leaving a sensitive Katy to offer an apology.

The mistake is a little more embarrassing considering that we were all wearing name tags, but Katy is dyslexic, and after five years of not seeing someone, these kinds of things happen.

The thing you need to know about Katy is that she is the sweetest person you'll meet. If anything, she's friendly to a fault, so of course she felt bad about botching an old acquaintance's name, even if the circumstances made it understandable.

As the reunion was ending two days later, Katy ran into Miri again. Katy gave her a long embrace, told her how nice it was to see her again, and parted her with, "Have a nice... life."

You could tell that Katy was searching for the right final word. Saying "have a nice day" to someone you haven't seen in five years is kind of silly, but "have a nice life" is hardly appropriate either. It's a kiss-off. That's how it read to everyone nearby, who audibly gasped, as well as Miri, who threw up her hands and sarcastically thanked Katy.

Someone heckled "You're a cold bitch!" at Katy as she stuttered in her high-pitched voice that she didn't mean it like that. We had to assure her that it wasn't a big deal because for all we knew that would be the last time she'd see Miri.

Except that it wasn't. Though the reunion was over, people stayed in the general vicinity and not even an hour later, Katy stumbled upon Miri at a local farmers' market. "Didn't think you'd be seeing me again so soon, did you?" Miri told her.

When you tell someone to have a nice life, you better be pretty darned sure that you won't be seeing that person ever again.


Good Grief

Saw this on Facebook today and couldn't help but chuckle:

Not quite as funny as this classic, but we can't all be hilarious bitches:


A Cheesy Twitter Adventure

And now I follow @CabotCoop because they've earned my respect. Maybe we can keep a joint dairy diary.


Disabling Restroom Dilemma

I'm sorry, but in a busy restroom with plenty of urinals but just one giant stall, the sign should not say "Priority to the disabled." What that sign needs to say is "Priority to the defecators." I'm all about looking out for the handicapped, but unless their disability is being born with two assholes like I was (true story, bro), there's a good chance I need to poop more badly than they do.


Catch the Turtle!

While at our college reunion, a bunch of us wanted desperately to break into our old dorm building, which we were purposefully locked out of. I tried for fifteen minutes to find a way in, and then Phoebe, like a true badass, was just like "Let's just take off a window" and was inside in no time flat.

While inside, a bunch of us played Turtle, one of my favorite college games. One person puts a cardboard box over his head (like a shell) and then gets a fifteen second head start to sprint away (okay, that part's not turtle-like) from a mob of angry people. Finally, someone screams, "Catch the Turtle!" and everyone goes chasing after the Turtle (who can't exactly see with a box over his head) and tries to beat him to the ground.

We used to play this game a lot in the dorm halls, causing quite the ruckus. The Turtle must be destroyed. More than once I was legitimately injured, due to unknowingly running into a wall, being body checked into a wall, and being pushed down a flight of stairs. For real, Turtle is a game only for the brave and the stupid.

This game of Turtle that was captured on video isn't a typical one. Generally, when a turtle gets knocked down, he gets knocked down hard and stays down, but Ted was clearly a tenacious turtle. He also didn't get a fair head start. But it was great fun anyway. I miss doing dumb things with these dumb people on a daily basis.


Scrabble Serendipity

I play a lot of Scrabble, so I am often faced with a problem: play the funniest word or the highest scoring one. At Scrabble, I'm a competitor, so I'll generally go with which gets the most points, but sometimes I can't help but play a word like "TWATS" when a less raunchy word would have actually fared better. I pity the person who passes on "TWATS".

Occasionally, however, Scrabble Serendipity occurs.

Scrabble Serendipity: When the dirtiest word you can play is also the highest scoring.

My opponent left an open G on the board, and I took all of the tiles on my rack to form the word "SHITTING". Double word, fifty point bonus... dare I say it, nothing feels better than playing "SHITTING"... except for maybe just shitting.


90s Celebrity Masks

I said I probably wouldn't talk about my 90s themed birthday again. After the cops, projectile vomit, and frosting all over my house, the event seemed too embarrassing to even try to recount. But after everyone repeatedly assured me what a good time they had and Facebook photos started popping up, I think, despite all of the fall-out, I can still declare it a success.

The success is no small part due to Lena and Lisa's cooking (pizza bagels! pigs in a blanket! Lunchables!), as well as the homemade masks I made of 90s celebrities. While I didn't remember it happening, I'm pleased to see that the masks got a lot of play:

Not to make you feel bad, but when is the last time YOU had that many famous people at your birthday party?

Before we go, I want to show you my new favorite photo. First there's Brady in her gothic attire (as she dressed in her 90s), and then there's three Kevins: me, a Kevin shirt, and a Kevin mask on my head. We're stone-faced in spite of the frosting on our face/hair. Am I flattering myself in saying we could be the new American Gothic?


Weighing Your Options

"When you can't decide which restaurant to go to, look for fat people. Fat people always know where to eat." - Alex


Coldplay Has Jaundice

After years of being tricked, my friend Lena just had a pop culture myth I wasn't even aware of dispelled: Coldplay's song "Yellow" is not about jaundice.

The fabricated story Lena heard was that Chris Martin wrote "Yellow" about his mother who was dying of jaundice. Facts be damned, a part of me just wants to believe this myth anyway.

The funniest part is that "Yellow" is Lena's go-to karaoke song. Why she continued to sing a song she mistakenly believed to have such a depressing - and dare I say gross - meaning is a mystery to me. Clearly, she's seen the lyrics a bunch of times, so I also didn't understand how she didn't figure out it wasn't about jaundice on her own.

But then I looked at the lyrics. And holy shit, it could be about jaundice! The message is kind of like, "You're beautiful, despite being yellow and frail. But your skin pigmentation matches the stars, so keep fighting!"

I'm generally not a fan of propagating lies, but in this one instance, I'm going to give a Kevin Babbles stamp of approval to anyone who helps spread the Yellow Is About Jaundice rumor. Let's make this a thing!


Allison's Three Ingenious Plans to Obtain Alcohol

On the first night of my college reunion, everyone partied/drank to excess until unfathomable hours. By the second night, however, everyone was understandably exhausted, and headed to bed early. Well, everyone except for my friend circle. While we definitely didn't have the reputation of partiers in college, we pulled it together to be the last people standing.

At 2 AM, we were out of alcohol. It threatened to end our party, but Allison refused to give up. "I've got a plan!" Allison announced. "I know how we can get alcohol... I'm going to steal it."

I liked her plan, but then I asked her who she was going to steal from and how. It turned out that those details wound up being the difficult part of the plan. Finally, someone uncovered some forgotten alcohol and the party continued, without theft even!

Three hours, an Oasis sing-along, and plenty of pants-less dancing later, we found ourselves without alcohol again. As other people expressed an interest in going to bed, Allison proposed her second plan: "I got it! Let's go to a champagne brunch!"

It was another brilliant plan. Alas, it was 5 AM, and a champagne breakfast in the quaint town we were staying in was nothing but a dream. Unfortunately, her continued suggestion of finding one didn't make it any more of a reality.

By 5:30, Allison changed her tune with plan three: forget the champagne brunch, let's just buy some champagne. I asked her where we'd buy it, and Allison named the town's one liquor store. I pointed out the time, and she exasperatedly cried, "But the sun is coming up!" Yeah, liquor store owners! If the sun is starting to shine and you're not open yet, you're lazy!

Just before 6, everyone went to bed, except for Allison and Jef who were determined to obtain champagne one way or another. I'm not exactly sure what happened, but when I awoke a few hours later, I saw a large, half-consumed bottle of champagne sitting in the walkway, and I was proud.

Disregard that she was unable to function the next day. Allison proves that if you dream it and plan it, you can achieve it! A champagne toast to you, Allison!


Photo Booth

Whoops, another weekend went by without any blog posts. That’s mainly due to ”June 2011: Kill Your Liver” continuing. I spent the weekend at my 5 year college reunion, which was an absolute blast. I have anecdotes to share in the near future, but after four consecutive nights of minimal sleep, I have never felt more exhausted.

You know what looks dumb until you’re so slap happy that you get talked into it? Dress-up photo booths. But I really need to learn how to pose. I worked for America’s Next Top Model, for fuck’s sake, why have I still not learned to take a decent picture?



I first encountered Nippers' sign a few years ago while in Pasadena, and I haven't stopped talking about it since. Yes, I'm serious, and yes, I'm that boring of a person apparently.

Please note that it's not Nippers Salon, but Nippers "...It's a Salon". I understand the need to communicate that it's a salon, since the Nippers name itself doesn't cut it (pun!), but why is that part in quotation marks? Is "It's a salon" a popular movie quote I'm not familiar with? Did some celebrity endorse Nippers with a tepid, "It's a salon"?

And what's with the ellipsis? What are they leaving out that came before it's a salon? "This used to be a roach infected drug den, but now it's a salon." "We do run a prostitution ring out of the back, but as far as the police are concerned, it's a salon." The more I stare at these quotation marks, the less I'm convinced that Nippers is a salon at all.

Maybe the sign exists because when the owner tells people he has a place called Nippers, they give him a blank stare and he has to explain, "... It's a salon."

Clearly, I have a lot of questions. If someone wouldn't mind giving Sonny Hughes a call at (626) 304-9768 and interrogating him about his sign, I'd really appreciate it.


Cake Face

I've been out of commission the past few days. Not just on this blog, but in real life. I had my 90s themed birthday party on Saturday night, and I'd tell you all about it, but just like the real 90s, the details are a bit hazy.

So let's just stick to the facts I do know:
1. People had a really good time.
2. I had the best time, if being the drunkest makes it the best.
3. I rubbed cake all over everyone whether or not they were happy about it.
4. I remember everyone arriving, yet very few leaving.
5. When the police show up to shut down your party even after all of the guests have left, they will still try to assert authority because they have nothing else to do.
6. According to someone, I had the most projectile of all projectile vomits they have ever seen. (It's all right if I take this as a compliment, right?)
7. I have some really amazing friends for cooking for me, celebrating with me, and cleaning things up (mainly me) afterwards.

As more facts become clear, I might attempt to give a more detailed account, but if they're as embarrassing as I expect, you can forget about that. The good news is that my birthday isn't actually until next weekend, so I have a chance to celebrate it again in a way that I'll actually remember.


Shooting the Shit at the Museum

My friends and I enjoyed our trip to the Natural History Museum. Lest you think such an outing makes us a classy bunch, take a moment to see how our favorite exhibit was the interactive poop display.

You can actually see the berries in the bear poop! It's kind of like me, but with corn.

My second favorite thing in the museum was this informational text in the children's section:

"The rarest, but most exciting place to find old poop is inside the pooper" is the finest introductory sentence I have ever read. Talk about an attention grabber. Don't you ever wonder about what happens to the unpooped poop in someone's body when they die? Well, you should!