Monthly Archives: May 2009

10 Days for NPH — Day Five

It was bound to occur.  The perfect storm.  

On this rainy day in May, the first work day after a 3-day weekend, I entered the depths of the Metro, only to find a gaggle of people waiting for a train, which was obviously delayed.  I sighed and looked up at the marquee, to see that the next train would not arrive for another 9 minutes.  As I stood on the platform, I watched as hoards of other commuters came down onto the platform.  Finally, the train arrived, already packed with people.  Half the platform emptied, as commuters squeezed their ways into the already-packed trains anxious to make it to their destinations.  Rather than force  my way in, I waited for the next train, which was scheduled to arrive in another five minutes.  I patiently played sudoku on the platform, walking away from any individuals displaying symptoms of the swine flu.

Finally, the next train arrived.  Although stuffed with humanity, I reluctantly pushed my way in, as the next train would not arrive for another 7 minutes and would also be bound to be packed.  I positioned myself toward the opposite door, flanked by a plexiglass wall and the door, and I held on for dear life.  The train moved forward, herking and jerking about, stumbling toward the next stop.  Finally, after what seemed an eternity, we arrived at the Rosslyn stop, where even more individuals boarded the train.  A woman pressed up against me, and the perfume emanating from her body immediately swarmed into my nasal cavity.  I could taste the alcohol and artificial botanicals on my tongue.  The train doors closed.  We lurched forward, stopped, lurched, stopped, lurched, stopped.  I held on as best as I could, while attempting to hold my breath for fear that a deep inhalation would lead to the Metro shutting down because of me—that I would be the sick customer.

Finally, I arrived at my destination.  I burst out of the train and headed up the stairs as a warm feeling simmered under my breath.  As I emerged from the depths of the Metro, I ran toward the nearest garbage and puked my breakfast out, much to the horror of those around me.  I stood there for just a while longer, head down, panting in relief.  At that moment, I did not think of Tina Fey NPH.  I did not think of a life of Hollywood fame and fortune.  Amidst my puking stupor, a fellow commuter came up to me and asked, “Are you okay?”

My mission, buried beneath nausea and bile, became clear.  I channeled Tina Fey NPH and replied, “I’m awesome.”  (Then I rubbed a gallon of hand sanitizer over my hands that touched the nasty garbage can).  Savor my devotion.

Discover me, Tina Fey NPH!

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Filed under Legal Woes, Life, Plea to NPH, Plea to Tina Fey, WMATA - Metro

A Brief Interruption for Math/Logic

I present to you, my five readers, the following math/logic puzzle:

Paula 01Image Link

PLUS

Cup of CrazyImage Link

PLUS

Tanning BedImage Link

X 10

EQUALS

Faked & BakedImage Link

who has an uncanny resemblance to:

Wicked MusicalImage Link

which featured this Idol contestant:

GlambertImage Link

therefore, because Paula is:

NutsoImage Link

KRIS WINS!!

Kris "Makes the Ladies Swoon" AllenImage Link

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Filed under I Heart Reality TV, Life, Musical Obsessions, Television

10 Days for NPH — Day Four

Last week, I received a cryptic message from an anonymous individual to my pseudonym email address:

Should you fervently desire to meet the Great Neil,

Continue to read and examine this spiel.

Embark on the Post Hunt this forthcoming Sunday,

Win the P.H. and achieve your dream of Pay per Play.

I will emphasize this point just once more,

You can’t have NPH without P.H., you skanky little whore.

P.S.  I don’t really think you’re a whore, but it rhymes with more and is just freaking awesome.

Upon receiving this message, I jumped in glee.  I arose from the seat in which I stew in my lawyer juices and performed my NSYNC Bye Bye Bye dance, pumping my fists in the air.  Could this be it?  The key to meeting Tina Fey NPH?  I quickly searched Al Gore’s Internet to determine what this “Post Hunt” could be.  Alas, I saw the task that lay before me.  The Post Hunt was a scavenger hunt of sorts—for the brain!  Eureka, I thought!  I may not be able to outrun or outlast, but I can surely outwit, right?

However, in the midst of my celebratory dance and preparation for the Post Hunt, I began to wonder if someone was screwing with me.  Perhaps someone saw my pleas and desired, just for kicks, to elevate my hopes to the point in which I outright quit my job in a blaze of glory in order to fully devote myself to winning the Post Hunt and achieving my dream to meet and become best friends with Tina Fey NPH?  What if this is all a ruse to distract me from the real Tina Fey NPH?  But then, I thought, even if the prize was not Tina Fey, NPH, I could surely parlay my 15 minutes of fame into a shameless publicity tour in the hopes that Tina Fey NPH will happen to stumble across an article in the Washington Post, where one of DC’s finest lawyers is on the winning Post Hunt team, strips down buck-naked, and reveals a tattoo on her chest and buttocks that reads:  DISCOVER ME, TINA FEY NPH!!!  It’s a genius plan!

So, with three other brilliant minds (the AGs and the hubby), we embarked on the Hunt.  Initially stumped by the first clue, we abandoned the clue temporarily to tackle the other clues.  Like a well-oiled machine, the four of us steamrolled the competition by making quick work of the four other clues.  Finally, we returned to the original clue and began twisting our minds in the final leg of cranial gymnastics.  As the minutes wound down, and the answer did not come to light, my dreams of meeting Tina Fey NPH began to fade.  Would this be it?  Would my dreams become thwarted by two human statues standing before the Post Office, mocking me with their poses?  With defeat only 20 minutes away, I hung my head in shame.  I did not meet the great Tina Fey NPH yesterday, but I can hope that he will someday hear my pleas and marvel at my devotion.

Because Lord knows getting these tattoos on my butt and chest hurt like hell.

Discover me, Tina Fey NPH!!

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Filed under Legal Woes, Life, Plea to NPH, Plea to Tina Fey, Television

10 Days for NPH — Day Two

Recently, news of the inevitable swine flu pandemic has ebbed.  Coupled with the 1 hour drive to move 4 miles, I actually took the Swine Flu Express to and from work yesterday.  Let me clarify—when I say that the news has ebbed, I mean in the States.  Not so much in China.  If you are Mexican (or “look” Mexican) and traveling to China, here’s what you can expect.  From the NY Times:

OUTBREAK!!!

Image Link

Yes, folks, my people don’t kid.  China is not the greatest country for freedom of speech or other progressive liberties, but it is a good place to be the target of pandemic profiling.

Speaking of the swine flu, I’ve been more vigilent about the amount of time I have washed my hands recently.  The CDC suggests washing hands with warm water and soap for 20 seconds.  It’s kind of like your dentist telling you to brush your teeth for 2 minutes.  Without a means to regulate yourself, you end up brushing your teeth for all of 30 seconds and curse yourself as you sit in the dentist’s chair getting chastised for improper oral hygeine as a chick with intense perfume hovers over you, jabbing your gums raw with what feels like an ice pick in the third chapter of Basic Instinct.  So, for my teeth, I invested in the Sonicare brushing system, which basically runs and counts down the 2 minutes for me.  

For my hands, however, there is no machine I can purchase.  The CDC recommends that children sing “Happy Birthday” all the way through to achieve the 20-second wash.  Frankly, if it’s not my birthday or anyone else’s birthday, the thought of singing “Happy Birthday” is horrifying, because it is just a constant reminder that my body is degenerating from its 25-year old physical and mental peak.  Being that I use the facilities more than most due to my infatuation with H2O, I really don’t want to put myself through that mental destruction.

So what song can I sing?  In honor of NPH, I tried to sing some numbers from Rent.  I tried Seasons of Love, but repeating “525,600 minutes” over and over again also made me feel old.  So instead, I settled on singing the title song, Rent.

Mark:  How do you document real life when real life’s getting more like fiction each day?  Headlines–bread-lines, blow my mind and now this deadline “eviction—or pay!”  Rent!

Roger:  How do you write a song when the chords sound wrong though they once sounded right and rare?  When the notes are sour, where is the power you once had to ignite the air?

Mark:  And we’re hungry and frozen!

Roger:  Some life that we’ve chosen!

Mark & Roger:  How we gonna pay?  How we gonna pay?  How we gonna pay?  Last year’s rent!

An added benefit of singing this song as you wash your hands is that, if you decide to accidentally sing it out loud, the bathroom may quickly empty, allowing you to wash your hands in peace and further avoid contact with any potentially infected individuals.  So NPH (and Jonathan Larson), thank you.  You’ve saved my life.

Discover me, Tina Fey NPH!!!

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Filed under Life, Plea to NPH, Plea to Tina Fey, Travel