Category Archives: Comedy

My House is a Circus

Comedy, Puppy March 29, 2012 Leave a comment

I’m sure you’ll find it as hard to believe as I, but Enzo turned SIX MONTHS OLD on Sunday. My little puppy is growing up so quickly. In just one months time crazy things have happened. My house has turned into a circus.

Okay, I’ll admit, when someone sent me a photo of house breaking potty spray I climbed on my sassy horse, smug as hell. My puppy didn’t need that. From day one he’s been well-behaved and has only pottied on his faux grass. My how the mighty fall.

Enzo has gone from a well potty trained puppy to a playroom escaping pee-pee king alpha male. And he’s tried to take on my favorite Vince sweater as his new girlfriend humping partner. Needless to say, we’ve had our hands full. Luckily for you, I was able to obtain video evidence of the three-ring insanity unfolding in the living room.

You’re probably thinking I staged this and he’s on invincible wires, but nope. That’s all him. Baby climbs gates like they are rock walls. We either have the most gifted puppy ever or are doomed. Stay tuned…

Where There’s Smoke…

Comedy, Sports February 26, 2012 Leave a comment

One crisp February Sunday, several years ago, I threw an impromptu Daytona 500 party at my parents house. Our family friends came over, we played games, sipped cocktails (several) and the dogs enjoyed a smorgasbord of dropped hor dourves. It was a pretty great day. The only thing that put a damper on it was the fact that I couldn’t find a Tony Stewart t-shirt anywhere in central Indiana to wear for the big day.

The quest for a Smoke shirt started early morning Saturday and went well into the afternoon. I went to the IMS gift shop, Meijer and a handful of Dicks and nothing. You mean to tell me that nowhere in greater Indianapolis could I find a shirt to wear that celebrated one of Indiana’s finest?! I was going to have to take matters into my own hands. I needed to create something fast, easy to wear and full of Tony Stewart spirit…and then my famous paper plate necklaces were born.

Why yes, I would perform a google image search of Tony Stewart, print my favorite photos off, cut them out and paste them onto a paper plate. Attach a piece of multi-color yarn to each end and the best accessory ever invented became a reality.

Armed with my paper plate necklace and a diet Coors, I was ready to witness Smoke win his first Daytona 500. Several more diet beverages, celery snacks and whiskey shots later and my mom was begging me to lower my voice while screaming at the television. Our Daytona 500 viewing party had turned into the Oblivia cheering on Tony Stewart attempting to win the Daytona 500 viewing party. As I’m sure you know, in the end Smoke didn’t win and I ended up sulking like a five-year old.

What can I say, my temper tantrums were epic back then.

Every year since I’ve parked my behind in front of the television to watch one of only a handful of Cup races I can stomach in a season, in hopes Smoke would make it happen. And every year since then it hasn’t happened. Well I’ll tell you what, I woke up this morning with a good feeling and a smile on my face. Today is the day. Go get ‘em, Smoke. Light Daytona on fire and bring home a victory.

Locked Away, No Key

Comedy, Life January 26, 2012 Comments: 2

My very own, first bedroom had two doors. I thought I was the coolest girl in the whole wide world, I had two bedroom doors.  I was never allowed to have both doors in use at the same time. My bed was pushed against the door that led to the entrance of the house. For the life of me, I could never figure out why my mom wouldn’t let me put my bed in the middle of my room and let me use both doors.

That is, until I locked myself out of my current bedroom that has two bedroom doors.  Twenty-some odd years later and I now understand just why I couldn’t have two bedroom doors when I was approximately eight.

In my current house, I have a normal bedroom door (that I always keep locked in case of an impromptu robbery) and a door to my bathroom, which leads to my bedroom. Unknowingly, I locked the bathroom door behind me as I was leaving my room. It wasn’t till I went to return to my bedroom that I noticed the bathroom door was locked.

Half anxiety stricken, I ran around the corner to my actual bedroom door and gave it a turn. That door knob was not budging. Only when I glanced at both door handles and noticed there were no screws on the outside did I morph into full-fledge, anxiety stricken panic.

How in the h-e-double-hockey-sticks was I going to get into my room? You mean to tell me I have to break into my own room? Isn’t this irony at it’s finest.

A few texts and a phone call to pDiddy later, I was informed to take a bobby pin, try to wiggle it inside the tiny hole in the center of the door knob and wait for it to click.

There was no way this was ever going to workout for me.

Somehow, someway, with a bent bobby pin and sheer determination,  I was able to channel my inner MacGyver and -click- like magic, I was granted access to my bedroom once more.

And twenty-some years after wondering why I wasn’t allowed to use both of my bedroom doors, I finally understand.

The Tale of Humposaurus Enz

Comedy, Puppy January 5, 2012 Leave a comment

I wasn’t quite sure whether to start this post off with “my bathroom flooded today by way of cleaning up my puppies mess” or “my three-month old puppy has a humping problem.”

I’m going with the later, mostly because the first story is vomit inducing.

It all started one random day, a couple of weeks after I got Enzo. We were playing in the living room while I was lying on my stomach, resting my head on the palms of my hands.  Suddenly Enzo jumped up, started biting my hair and humping my arm. I shook him off immediately and had a good laugh.  He couldn’t know what he was doing, he was just a puppy, right?

A few more weeks passed, sans another humping incident. Enzo turned twelve weeks old on Christmas day and I couldn’t have been happier with what a good little man was becoming: bright, sweet and slightly cheeky. He’s practically potty trained, loves to play fetch and is even learning to sit and shake for a treat. There is the occasional Blackberry hijacking, earning him the nickname Snoop Dogg Blackberry Bandit.

And then, like lightning striking, Enzo turned thirteen weeks old and humping has quickly become his new favorite trick. Thankfully he no longer uses my arm. No, he’s found a far more appealing companion to suite his needs. I’m not talking about a stuffed animal or dog toy, although he has tried to give it to a small, pink Victoria’s Secret dog. No folks, Enzo humps my Uggs. My old, junky, six-year-old, folded down black Uggs.

He’s not even old enough to have puppy testicles and he’s running around with my black Ugg as though it’s his equivalent of Cameron Diaz.Try to picture an almost three-pound fluff ball running around the house, dragging  an Ugg almost twice the size of him. He grabs it in his mouth, trots around with it, shakes it, does his business and even snuggles with it. The problem is I can’t get him to stop.

This newfound love of humping was funny at first. I even tried to convince myself it was natural. (I would still think it was natural if my mom wouldn’t have exclaimed “No, Oblivia, it’s most certainly not natural!”) This delicate matter isn’t something one can just Google, either. I can imagine typing “how to get my puppy to stop humping things” would pull pages of disturbing results in about .003 seconds.

At the end of the day, his humping doesn’t bother me all that much, but I don’t want this to become a bad habit that sticks around after he gets fixed. So, dear readers, I pose to you the awkward question: How do I get my puppy to stop humping things?!

Fresh to Death

Comedy January 4, 2012 Leave a comment

It was only a matter of time the Fresh Market tried to seduce my inner grocery store junkie.

[image via]

Upon crossing the threshold of the upscale market, a mysterious and intoxicating scent bites the nose. The dim lighting instantly calms and soothes. Apples, oranges and other produce alike are stacked in dreamy displays of perfection. Are the employees stocking the shelves in an in-sync, choreographed manner?

This must be grocery store paradise.

And then it hits me. That sort of paranoia of being a bull in a China shop.

[image via]

“If I grab one of those oranges will a metal contraption automatically replace it from under stock as to not take away from the uniform rows of perfectly stacked fruit?”

Pain starts to shoot down from my shoulders to my heart and blood starts rushing faster and faster.

Better just stock up on the basics. Swerving from aisle to aisle, careening around on a high of fresh mix nut dispensers and french bread end caps.

“You mean to tell me a place this fancy doesn’t stock gluten-free bread crumbs?”

Not admitting defeat, head to the beverage section. Forget about the wine, show me sparkling water heaven.

“This must be an oasis, where’s the Pellegrino?!”

I’ll hand it to you, Fresh Market, you tried real hard. But underneath your seemingly perfect exterior is an interior that leaves a vast hole of disappointment and overpriced mediocrity.

Thank goodness Trader Joe’s, in all it’s glory, is just a hop, skip and jump away.

Yinz Better Watch Aht

Comedy December 5, 2011 Comments: 2

I know, I know, what I’m about to tell you is going to come as complete shock. It’s the holiday season and I’m missing Pittsburgh more than ever. Yes, that same Pittsburgh I talked mad ish about and didn’t appreciate while I was living there. Maybe I continually fall victim to the grass being greener down the river or maybe I suffer from bi-polar geography disorder. Whatever the case may be the holidays have made me extra nostalgic for all things Pittsburgh.

I came to this realization yesterday as I was knee-deep in Bengals country and rooting so hard for the Steelers you would’ve thought my brother was Ben Roethlisberger. I saw all of the terrible towels swirling in their gold glory and felt an overwhelming sense of pride. All of the sudden I missed my favorite things about Pittsburgh like it was a boyfriend living on a different continent. The funny yinz accents, the city being covered in black and yellow, Sunday mornings spent lingering in the strip, Chris, my favorite bartender at Cappy’s. Hell, I even had half a mind to order a sandwich with french fries between the bread.

And just when I thought I couldn’t miss the City of Champions any more, my dear friend (and one of my favorite Pittsburghers) tweeted a link to this:

Oh Pittsburgh, how I love yinz.

Moving Roulette

Comedy, Life August 17, 2011 Leave a comment

Today is it, the big moving day. Although in my mind I was to be 100% ready to roll on Sunday night, in reality I still have about four rooms to scrub down, three boxes of miscellaneous stuff to pack, and one wall to paint. At least there are two movers slated to actually do the manual labor of loading before baby bro takes the wheel of the moving truck.

[All packed up...almost]

While I’m not too concerned with the logistics of the move, despite still having a mild to do list, I am rather anxious to see my new apartment. As in actually see what it looks like. At all. For the first time.

Yes, you read that right. I’m moving into an apartment I haven’t even seen one photo of. Some call it crazy, I call it moving roulette.

What I do know is the location is in a neighborhood friends recommended, its newly renovated (as in just got completed yesterday, new appliance, bathtub the whole shebang), and well that’s it. The rest is remains to be seen. And terrible on the imagination.

Moving in general is a gamble. Leaving behind great friends I consider family to live in a city I’ve never been to and a commitment to an apartment I’ve never laid eyes on is pretty risky. Keep your fingers crossed I hit the jackpot.

I hope the day is less like this:

And more like that:

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