Woot-Off-Killer Killers: Our Favorite Wastes of Time
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Thursday, May 14, 2009
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Tuesday, April 07, 2009
wax on, wax off
The days are getting longer, the weather warmer. Soon shorts will be popping up like the bulbs in my front yard. And nothing makes a girl feel sexier during this season than smooth, beautiful legs that are ready for the beaches. Wanting to feel a little more sassy, I bought a waxing kit from Wal-mart complete with tongue depressors, sheets of paper, and paraffin wax.
b.a.d. i.d.e.a.
I started with my underarms since I thought I could muscle through two strips without chickening out. First one.... RRRRRIIIIIPPPPPP. And the words still echo in my mind, for though they came from me, I never knew I could speak in tongues. it was something along the lines of Oh Holy Night mixed with By The Power Of Greyskull.
Okay, that's a scorching red right there, as I stare at my sad, hurt armpit. But I thought I can quit now or power through. Just power through, Jackie.
Underarm torture take 2: and ACTION!
Dip, smear, apply strip.
Pause.
"You can do this, you can do this, you can do this," I chant to myself as the piece of paper starts to quickly fasten to the hair and work its way down to the live layer of skin. As I move my free hand into death grip position, I notice something. hmm. I can't lift up my arm I just waxed. What the... oh no.
no.no.no.no.no.
In my hurry, I forgot to use the "soothing oil" after the first strip, and it hits me that I didn't get all of the wax off from the first try. my right armpit is NOW GLUED SHUT.
Panicking, I hop in the shower as I tear off the second strip (MOTHER!) and start dumping the body wash all over my underarms, which seems to loosen the skin stuck together, but now the wax is melting under the heat of the warm water, and spreading and is not coming off at all with vigorous scrubbing and soap. Towel, I think.
nope, not the answer. As the wax cools off from exiting the shower, the towel now becomes one massive furry paper strip. Towel glued to armpit x 2, I finally read the directions to discover that the oil is the way to remove extra wax. I dig through the box, towel draped across chest and securely fastened to body sans safety pins/clips/buttons, to discover this ity-bity bottle of oil, and I just start pouring. worked like a charm. in the aftermath I could somewhat recognize the remnants of what should be the skin under the arms, along the thorax, and even part of the skin around the biceps.
and now I'm pissed. No way in hell some smart-a box is gonna win this battle. I reheat the wax and start on the leg, determined to finish.
Well 3/4 of one leg later, I finally had enough. And since I used the entire bottle of oil during the arm fiasco, I resorted to PAM cooking spray to remove the stubborn tidbits of dried wax sculpted to my poor red leg.
AND SCENE.
b.a.d. i.d.e.a.
I started with my underarms since I thought I could muscle through two strips without chickening out. First one.... RRRRRIIIIIPPPPPP. And the words still echo in my mind, for though they came from me, I never knew I could speak in tongues. it was something along the lines of Oh Holy Night mixed with By The Power Of Greyskull.
Okay, that's a scorching red right there, as I stare at my sad, hurt armpit. But I thought I can quit now or power through. Just power through, Jackie.
Underarm torture take 2: and ACTION!
Dip, smear, apply strip.
Pause.
"You can do this, you can do this, you can do this," I chant to myself as the piece of paper starts to quickly fasten to the hair and work its way down to the live layer of skin. As I move my free hand into death grip position, I notice something. hmm. I can't lift up my arm I just waxed. What the... oh no.
no.no.no.no.no.
In my hurry, I forgot to use the "soothing oil" after the first strip, and it hits me that I didn't get all of the wax off from the first try. my right armpit is NOW GLUED SHUT.
Panicking, I hop in the shower as I tear off the second strip (MOTHER!) and start dumping the body wash all over my underarms, which seems to loosen the skin stuck together, but now the wax is melting under the heat of the warm water, and spreading and is not coming off at all with vigorous scrubbing and soap. Towel, I think.
nope, not the answer. As the wax cools off from exiting the shower, the towel now becomes one massive furry paper strip. Towel glued to armpit x 2, I finally read the directions to discover that the oil is the way to remove extra wax. I dig through the box, towel draped across chest and securely fastened to body sans safety pins/clips/buttons, to discover this ity-bity bottle of oil, and I just start pouring. worked like a charm. in the aftermath I could somewhat recognize the remnants of what should be the skin under the arms, along the thorax, and even part of the skin around the biceps.
and now I'm pissed. No way in hell some smart-a box is gonna win this battle. I reheat the wax and start on the leg, determined to finish.
Well 3/4 of one leg later, I finally had enough. And since I used the entire bottle of oil during the arm fiasco, I resorted to PAM cooking spray to remove the stubborn tidbits of dried wax sculpted to my poor red leg.
AND SCENE.
Tuesday, February 03, 2009
bear attack
When I feel I need a break, I somtimes go to Howcast to fill in the void. and I always seem to find myself watching something like this, thinking just in case.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Hershey: the scariest place on earth
So you may be wondering where Jackie has hibernated to, and that lucky place is the great city of Hershey. One sentence describes my entire experience here: I've seen things that will stick with me for the rest of my life. And at the top of that list is the singing cows at Chocolate World. During one weekend after a snowfall I decided to get out of the house and head over to the locally recommended hot spot, all the while operating on the assumption that it's one big candy shop. Heads up, it is not. It is so much terrifyingly more.
As I drive over on the overcast afternoon, I turn into the entrance to see massive empty parking lots covering acres of land and a vacated amusement park looking old and dingy in the poor light, and it honestly feels as if I'm passing through a bizarre ghost town. I park next to the main entrance, which brings the total car count in the lot to a dozen, and as I head toward the faded multi-colored entrance I realize I'm virtually alone.
I walk through the doors and past dimly lit doorway openings to the nearest signs of life, and I enter into the back way of the gift shop. So there I am stepping into this massive labyrinth of chocolate, whose walls consist of 10-16 feet high walls of Reece's and Hershey's milk bars and kisses, and at the top I can see giant pieces of candy fully equipped with eyes, legs and toothless smiles all staring down at me.
Opting to distance myself from the glare, I weave my way to the front where after 10 minutes have passed, I see my first human. The cashier. Wanting to make sure I just didn't fall down the rabbit hole, I ask about the empty place to find out that most things are closed, but that there is a indoor Hershey's ride still open for the day.
Well, not wanting the trip to be a total bust, I waltz my way over to the giant "Hershey's Great American Chocolate Tour" entrance where yet again I walk through to find myself alone. In a dimly lit hallway. Come on, I think to myself. side note to Hershey: has the economy hit you that hard that you're cutting back on lighting? Please.
You can tell these vacant hallways are meant for herding massive amounts of people, and each is peppered with TV sets playing a video on the process of cocoa bean harvesting. I pause a moment to watch, but again I start to notice the void of life made clear by the utter silence aside from the TVs. So I book it through hallway after hallway to find the entrance to the ride all the while thinking to myself that a few of the patients on my psych rotation would have lost it by now. As I reach the pinnacle I find a flight of stairs descending to a circular moving floor with the carpet in the design of a multi-colored brown pinwheel. And on the border of the wheel I see bucket seats in groups of three moving by the edge and then breaking off into the entrance of the ride. Two people were taking their time exiting the ride, so the worker directed me to sit in the second bucket. I climb in and cozy myself down, and after a moment my seat glides me into the opening, and it's obvious that there is no one joining me in my bucket. or my group of three. or the groups in front or behind me.
At this point I consider busting out a few lines of "All By Myself" when before I knew it someone beat me to the singing. Well, I should say something. Three cows, that it. Three massive cloth covered cow heads sticking out from a wall start to soulfully sing three words over and over again, that being "Hershey's milk chocolate!" Thinking that I want a better view, my bucket turns me toward the blasting music to face the cows head on (hardy har har).
My cart continues to carry me on to the next room, which is really a room starting the explanation of how chocolate is made. So from room to room my cart shifts me from left to right to stare at massive equipment used during each step of the chocolate making process (along with actual footage from the factory displayed on large TVs). And all the while a wanna-be spokesman for Rogain with background music from the Milk Chocolate song blasts me away. I went through many a room, and even through the inside of a massive heating oven to finally find myself in the last room. The best way to describe the room is one giant LCD screen with iconic images from cities around the US flashing before my eyes with jazzy music from the 1980s adding the finishing touches to the nightmare I'll be having later on that night. As I exit, a pubescent teen hands me two pieces of chocolate, and looking on the ground I notice carcasses of empty wrappers and even unopened pieces haphazardly tossed on the floor. I imagine that's the chocolate that was chucked away from patrons fleeing the scene.
You know, I completely understand now why small children spontaneously start screaming on amusement rides. I wondered if people who've been abducted would use this as an adequate description of their experience.
As I drive over on the overcast afternoon, I turn into the entrance to see massive empty parking lots covering acres of land and a vacated amusement park looking old and dingy in the poor light, and it honestly feels as if I'm passing through a bizarre ghost town. I park next to the main entrance, which brings the total car count in the lot to a dozen, and as I head toward the faded multi-colored entrance I realize I'm virtually alone.
I walk through the doors and past dimly lit doorway openings to the nearest signs of life, and I enter into the back way of the gift shop. So there I am stepping into this massive labyrinth of chocolate, whose walls consist of 10-16 feet high walls of Reece's and Hershey's milk bars and kisses, and at the top I can see giant pieces of candy fully equipped with eyes, legs and toothless smiles all staring down at me.
Opting to distance myself from the glare, I weave my way to the front where after 10 minutes have passed, I see my first human. The cashier. Wanting to make sure I just didn't fall down the rabbit hole, I ask about the empty place to find out that most things are closed, but that there is a indoor Hershey's ride still open for the day.
Well, not wanting the trip to be a total bust, I waltz my way over to the giant "Hershey's Great American Chocolate Tour" entrance where yet again I walk through to find myself alone. In a dimly lit hallway. Come on, I think to myself. side note to Hershey: has the economy hit you that hard that you're cutting back on lighting? Please.
You can tell these vacant hallways are meant for herding massive amounts of people, and each is peppered with TV sets playing a video on the process of cocoa bean harvesting. I pause a moment to watch, but again I start to notice the void of life made clear by the utter silence aside from the TVs. So I book it through hallway after hallway to find the entrance to the ride all the while thinking to myself that a few of the patients on my psych rotation would have lost it by now. As I reach the pinnacle I find a flight of stairs descending to a circular moving floor with the carpet in the design of a multi-colored brown pinwheel. And on the border of the wheel I see bucket seats in groups of three moving by the edge and then breaking off into the entrance of the ride. Two people were taking their time exiting the ride, so the worker directed me to sit in the second bucket. I climb in and cozy myself down, and after a moment my seat glides me into the opening, and it's obvious that there is no one joining me in my bucket. or my group of three. or the groups in front or behind me.
At this point I consider busting out a few lines of "All By Myself" when before I knew it someone beat me to the singing. Well, I should say something. Three cows, that it. Three massive cloth covered cow heads sticking out from a wall start to soulfully sing three words over and over again, that being "Hershey's milk chocolate!" Thinking that I want a better view, my bucket turns me toward the blasting music to face the cows head on (hardy har har).
My cart continues to carry me on to the next room, which is really a room starting the explanation of how chocolate is made. So from room to room my cart shifts me from left to right to stare at massive equipment used during each step of the chocolate making process (along with actual footage from the factory displayed on large TVs). And all the while a wanna-be spokesman for Rogain with background music from the Milk Chocolate song blasts me away. I went through many a room, and even through the inside of a massive heating oven to finally find myself in the last room. The best way to describe the room is one giant LCD screen with iconic images from cities around the US flashing before my eyes with jazzy music from the 1980s adding the finishing touches to the nightmare I'll be having later on that night. As I exit, a pubescent teen hands me two pieces of chocolate, and looking on the ground I notice carcasses of empty wrappers and even unopened pieces haphazardly tossed on the floor. I imagine that's the chocolate that was chucked away from patrons fleeing the scene.
You know, I completely understand now why small children spontaneously start screaming on amusement rides. I wondered if people who've been abducted would use this as an adequate description of their experience.
Friday, December 26, 2008
sounds like...
I'm currently home in Texas for the holidays visiting my folks. It's been entertaining to say the least,mostly because of the funny slips of the tongue that are oh-so infamous in the Cummings clan.
For example, during Christmas Eve dinner at Macaroni Grill, we started talking about places we've always wanted to visit, and I mentioned how I want to go see the Northern Lights in Canada. I also let them know how I've been taking mini-trips during my rotations, and my Mom chimed in by saying "Well, on one of those trips, Jackie, you can go see the Areola."
A moment passed until the full weight of the comment sunk in at the table, and suddenly an explosion of laughter rang out from the two of us.
Me: "Mom, do you mean Aurora Borealis"
classic Mom.
For example, during Christmas Eve dinner at Macaroni Grill, we started talking about places we've always wanted to visit, and I mentioned how I want to go see the Northern Lights in Canada. I also let them know how I've been taking mini-trips during my rotations, and my Mom chimed in by saying "Well, on one of those trips, Jackie, you can go see the Areola."
A moment passed until the full weight of the comment sunk in at the table, and suddenly an explosion of laughter rang out from the two of us.
Me: "Mom, do you mean Aurora Borealis"
classic Mom.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
ornaments and organized religion
I just came home from a night at the Goggleworks, a community arts center in Reading, where I was both academically and pseudo-ecumenically educated. I participated in a hot glass blowing workshop in which I created an ornament to give to my dad for Christmas. Each year he asks for the same thing, that being Peace, and since he knows there's a slim chance of fulfilling the request in its entirety, he asks that the monetary gift be handmade. Well a girl can only make so many scarfs/hats/cards before she runs out of good ideas. Thus, the class. Actually, I love that he asks for that because it gives me an excuse to do something new and fun and not feel a lick of guilt for not studying.
After the class I wandered over to the main building to see what new independent film they were showing, and as luck would have it, Bill Maher's new movie Religious was playing. Since the class ran a little late, I missed the first half hour of it, but the part that I did see was enough to realize that though there were a few quick witted comments and partial truths, Maher wasn't openly looking for alternatives to his view on religion, or lack thereof. He pushed his own agenda with sounds bites and montages from people of various faiths and his diatribe at the end felt completely disjointed and hoaxy. I usually don't love Fox news, but in this case this review of the movie nailed it on the head. My critique: go for a few laughs if you've got nothing else to do, but expect nothing more than to be mildly entertained, and if you're super religious, possibly offended.
After the class I wandered over to the main building to see what new independent film they were showing, and as luck would have it, Bill Maher's new movie Religious was playing. Since the class ran a little late, I missed the first half hour of it, but the part that I did see was enough to realize that though there were a few quick witted comments and partial truths, Maher wasn't openly looking for alternatives to his view on religion, or lack thereof. He pushed his own agenda with sounds bites and montages from people of various faiths and his diatribe at the end felt completely disjointed and hoaxy. I usually don't love Fox news, but in this case this review of the movie nailed it on the head. My critique: go for a few laughs if you've got nothing else to do, but expect nothing more than to be mildly entertained, and if you're super religious, possibly offended.
Monday, December 01, 2008
guess who's coming to town
My preceptorships are tentatively assigned... and the winners are:
Feb-April: Family Practice at Central Utah Clinic, Provo, Ut
May-August: ED at Reading Hospital, Reading, PA
I'm coming back to Utah!!
Feb-April: Family Practice at Central Utah Clinic, Provo, Ut
May-August: ED at Reading Hospital, Reading, PA
I'm coming back to Utah!!
Wednesday, November 05, 2008
nut, nut, who'se got the nut?
I've wrapped up the end of my time served in inpatient psychiatry at Olean, NY and if you've ever wondered where the mullet originated from, you needn't look further. Other firsts in this city include knick-knacks, psychotic patients, and my personal favorite, massive ceramic squirrels. Does anyone else see a correlation?
You may think I'm kidding about the squirrels, and I would've been right on that disbelieving boat with you. But, friends, I have been there. I have seen. I have had nightmares. And here is my proof (I named a few):
Disco Ball Ben:
Small Town Bugsy:
Mr. Money Bags:
Incognito Irnia:
Possibly the most terrifying of all the squirrels, whom I call the Godfather:
Vincent:
Honolulu Hal:
Nurse Betsy:
Surgeon Sam:
And of course we can't forget Santa Squirrel:
and his back side:
You may think I'm kidding about the squirrels, and I would've been right on that disbelieving boat with you. But, friends, I have been there. I have seen. I have had nightmares. And here is my proof (I named a few):
Disco Ball Ben:
Small Town Bugsy:
Mr. Money Bags:
Incognito Irnia:
Possibly the most terrifying of all the squirrels, whom I call the Godfather:
Vincent:
Honolulu Hal:
Nurse Betsy:
Surgeon Sam:
And of course we can't forget Santa Squirrel:
and his back side:
Saturday, October 25, 2008
white girls can jazzercise
wait for the freeze frame... pure laughter
(thanks to Luke for finding this gem)
Monday, October 13, 2008
some interesting sites on my drive up to Olean
A crazy water fountain sputtering water onto the four lane highway. who puts a fountain next to a highway?
A house and lawn ENTIRELY decorated with massive inflatable Halloween ornaments (including a huge ghost castle, five pumpkins, a spider, and a ghost hanging from a tree)
a dolphin mailbox
three kids driving a seated lawn mower whose sum ages added up to 14
ZZ Top reincarnated
A classic car colored sea foam green with the occupants dressed like from The Sting
A house and lawn ENTIRELY decorated with massive inflatable Halloween ornaments (including a huge ghost castle, five pumpkins, a spider, and a ghost hanging from a tree)
a dolphin mailbox
three kids driving a seated lawn mower whose sum ages added up to 14
ZZ Top reincarnated
A classic car colored sea foam green with the occupants dressed like from The Sting
Friday, October 03, 2008
a good day
I delivered 3 babies on my birthday... couldn't ask for a better present. Not gonna lie, I teared up a little.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
growing pains
Today was the day I got my hands dirty during a natural delivery and delivered my first baby. As luck would have it, my first was with a baby who had Meconium stain and nuchal cord x 1. In other words, a very complicated delivery, so much so that the baby was in respiratory arrest and we had to start bagging him. NOT GOOD. The mom kept staring at me and the doctor asking why her baby wasn't crying. I literally wanted to vomit. Thank the lord that my preceptor (the doctor) is completely amazing and knows how to keep her cool in a very tense situation. She guided my hands to where they needed to go when I started to freeze up and helped me stay outwardly calm and collected when all I wanted to do was jump out of my skin. I felt so bad after the delivery thinking I had done something wrong (which I didn't).... she let me know that sometimes deliveries are just complicated, and it happened that my first case was that way. The baby is now fine, and mother is fine, and I'm fine. I guess this is what comes with growing up.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
judging a book by its cover
While walking through the halls of yet another hospital today (this time Kent General in Dover) I noticed a trend in medical marketing. Every place I've worked at so far displayed a sign with children dressed up as doctors/nurses reminding folks to wash hands or be quiet or whatever. Sure, at first glance you think everything's alright, perhaps even a little precious, but after so many exposures, you start to become concerned. Concerns like where the hell do these kids get off telling me what to do? They've got to be no older than 4, sans college degrees and permanent teeth. Unless you're Doogie Howser and can chew through steak, I'm not buyin, even if I know better.
In fact, I'm rebelling. My plan tomorrow... avoid soap like the plague while screaming Yankee Doodle Dandy. See that kids, look at what you made me do. you're bringing me down to your level.
side note: I was actually slapped in the face by a two year old girl who was the sister of an 8 month old baby I was treating. Apparently I was giving too much attention to her brother even though the staff took the time to blow up a disposable latex glove and fashion it to look like a chicken. So she climbed up on a step and took her glove and slapped me with it. I swear, I almost quit right there.
In fact, I'm rebelling. My plan tomorrow... avoid soap like the plague while screaming Yankee Doodle Dandy. See that kids, look at what you made me do. you're bringing me down to your level.
side note: I was actually slapped in the face by a two year old girl who was the sister of an 8 month old baby I was treating. Apparently I was giving too much attention to her brother even though the staff took the time to blow up a disposable latex glove and fashion it to look like a chicken. So she climbed up on a step and took her glove and slapped me with it. I swear, I almost quit right there.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
something must be in the air
Today I didn't have to go to work so I started the day by sleeping in till ten, breakfast in bed, and a movie. Since I hadn't yet gotten out of bed at one o'clock I felt a bit like a bum, so I thought I'd have a mini workout. But I didn't want to completely give up my slothful ways, so I went without a bra.
Or pants.
So there I am doing sit-ups on my exercise ball in a very flimsy top and skivvies while listening to my usual exercise music when all of a sudden the song I Don't Feel Like Dancin' from the Scissor Sisters starts up. Now, if you've never heard the song, you might find it hard to understand how the tune posses people to stop their current activities and force them to start wilding dancing about the room. Friends, I was easy prey.
As I flail about, I glance out the window to find the gardner, THE GARDNER, standing outside with his weed whacker, John Deer hat and massive head phones staring straight at me. Yep, I just died a little. And I couldn't help think about Annalise's recent adventures in streaking.
Or pants.
So there I am doing sit-ups on my exercise ball in a very flimsy top and skivvies while listening to my usual exercise music when all of a sudden the song I Don't Feel Like Dancin' from the Scissor Sisters starts up. Now, if you've never heard the song, you might find it hard to understand how the tune posses people to stop their current activities and force them to start wilding dancing about the room. Friends, I was easy prey.
As I flail about, I glance out the window to find the gardner, THE GARDNER, standing outside with his weed whacker, John Deer hat and massive head phones staring straight at me. Yep, I just died a little. And I couldn't help think about Annalise's recent adventures in streaking.
Saturday, August 16, 2008
How to Pick Berries of Blue:
Step 1. Find fun friend who enjoys thrusting head into bushes. Encourage such behavior.
Step 2. Fill fun bucket with berries found in bush.
Steps 3. 4. 5. & 6. Pick up berry found in bucket and in veeery slow motion place berry between gargantuan teeth.
Step 7. Make ridiculous face whilst chewing.
Thus completes lesson one of berry pickin' Enjoy!
Step 2. Fill fun bucket with berries found in bush.
Steps 3. 4. 5. & 6. Pick up berry found in bucket and in veeery slow motion place berry between gargantuan teeth.
Step 7. Make ridiculous face whilst chewing.
Thus completes lesson one of berry pickin' Enjoy!
Friday, August 08, 2008
Wipeout!
I usually hate reality TV, but I absolutely LOVE this show... probably has something to do with the hosts and the genius use of sound effects. My favorite contestant: Margie Stubbs (around 3:48). I know I'm horrible, but I couldn't stop laughing
Friday, July 04, 2008
i'm still standing
surgical rotation has started and not gonna lie, it is rough. no so much sandpaper rough, more like tsunami kind of rough. i know this is a crap post, but really i'm just trying to keep my head above water.
better news: after getting off work this morning (I was on call last night which meant I was at work from 5:30 am yesterday to 8 am today) I drove to Boston and met up with a few friends to watch the Boston Pops/fireworks in action. I've been wanting to see this since I was a little girl and right now I don't care how much homework I have to do, I'm gonna have some fun tonight.
better news: after getting off work this morning (I was on call last night which meant I was at work from 5:30 am yesterday to 8 am today) I drove to Boston and met up with a few friends to watch the Boston Pops/fireworks in action. I've been wanting to see this since I was a little girl and right now I don't care how much homework I have to do, I'm gonna have some fun tonight.
Saturday, June 14, 2008
muppet murder
Yesterday Aubrey and I drove to the outlet mall to look for a few birthday gifts for her boyfriend Kyle. Along the highway stood a billboard that displayed a massive head of Elmo perfectly perched to glare at those who passed by. I turned to her and said,
Me: You know, Elmo creeps me out a little.
Aubrey: Me too... I used to watch Sesame Street when he wasn't as popular. It was more Big Bird, and Oscar the Grouch, and Bert and Ernie when they still had Bert.
Me: What? They got rid of Bert?
Aubrey: Yeah, a few years ago. Since some people complained about the two living together. they thought it implied a gay relationship. you know how everything has to be p.c. these days...
Me: So they killed off a muppet?
After hearing the news, I felt sad for the loss of Bert. Out of all the characters, he's the only one I know that had my laugh and a shared fondness for paper clips. I wanted to do something to show my love for him and the thing I came up with was to say a few words.
Eulogy for Bert:
Bert, I loved everything about you from your boring persona to your unibrow. Your sense of fashion said it all. You reminded me of a guy I used to date, and I'll never forget that. The times I remember best were when you learned how to fish by yelling and when you chatted on a banana. Most of all, you helped me through the rough times of 2nd grade, teaching me that I am special just as I am.
Me: You know, Elmo creeps me out a little.
Aubrey: Me too... I used to watch Sesame Street when he wasn't as popular. It was more Big Bird, and Oscar the Grouch, and Bert and Ernie when they still had Bert.
Me: What? They got rid of Bert?
Aubrey: Yeah, a few years ago. Since some people complained about the two living together. they thought it implied a gay relationship. you know how everything has to be p.c. these days...
Me: So they killed off a muppet?
After hearing the news, I felt sad for the loss of Bert. Out of all the characters, he's the only one I know that had my laugh and a shared fondness for paper clips. I wanted to do something to show my love for him and the thing I came up with was to say a few words.
Eulogy for Bert:
Bert, I loved everything about you from your boring persona to your unibrow. Your sense of fashion said it all. You reminded me of a guy I used to date, and I'll never forget that. The times I remember best were when you learned how to fish by yelling and when you chatted on a banana. Most of all, you helped me through the rough times of 2nd grade, teaching me that I am special just as I am.
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