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10 More Days for Tina Fey — Day Six

Virginia, home to Marlboro, will finally become relatively smoke-free on December 1, 2009.  Thank goodness!  I realize that Virginia is probably the biggest tobacco producing state in the union, but it’s not like we let people drink and drive in Kentucky because bourbon is a large industry.  So why let people smoke in enclosed public areas where nonsmokers would suffer from the inhalation of nastiness?

When I saw the news, I decided to do my happy smoke-free dance.  What does this dance look like, you ask?  Well, I take my hand to my mouth in a smoke-like gesture, and then I pretend to snuff out that faux-cigarette up my ass.  Try repeating this dance, adding some jumps and hip sways, to Bobby Brown’s “My Prerogative.”

But let’s get serious here.  This bill took quite a bit of legal wrangling to get passed.  Virginia House Speaker William Howell eloquently stated, “You’re going to tell a guy who fought in the Battle of the Bulge that he can’t have a cigarette with his coffee at the VFW?  You can’t do that.”  I mean, seriously.  For those who fought in the Battle of the Bulge, they have a free pass to do whatever the hell they want.  Want to drive drunk?  Go ahead.  Want to puff smoke into the face of a pregnant woman?  You’ve earned it.  Want to have shooting practice in a schoolyard?  Aye aye soldier.

You know who would be against this anti-smoking bill?  30 Rock’s Jack Donaghy.  Donaghy probably considers nicotine as Darwinian capitalism — the production of goods, designed to kill, to weed out the weak from the rest of society.  I, too, have no problem with smoking.  Just don’t do it near my burger.  Hell, next time I’m in a Virginia bar, I might just have to show everyone my happy smoke-free dance.  Perhaps I can start a new, Macarena-like, trend that will catch on like wildfire and lead to me being featured on local news channels, then the Washington Post, and then the NY Times.  Holy crap.  I better start packing for New York to be on 30 Rock’s writing staff!

Discover me, Tina Fey!

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10 More Days for Tina Fey — Day Four

Spring is descending upon Washington, D.C., and I have begun my full panoply of anti-allergy medications.  Curiously, although I have sprayed steroids up my nose, and dropped steroids into my eyes, I have not felt any heightened sense of sight or smell.  I guess I will not be able to embark on my career as a real-life superhero.  Think of all the people I could have saved, like Latreasa Goodman.  Listen to her desperate pleas to Florida’s 911 operators (she called 911 THREE times):

It’s a McNuggets emergency!  Goodman has since been ordered to appear in court for her misuse of the 911 emergency system.  The calls originated from Goodman’s fruitless attempt to purchase a 10-piece chicken McNuggets meal.  According to Goodman, she

ordered chicken nuggets.  They don’t have chicken nuggets, so I told her, “Just give me my money back,” and she tells me I have to pick something else off the menu.  She is not going to give me my money back, and she don’t have the right to take my money.

When police arrived at the scene of the vicious crime against Goodman and the fate of McNuggity, they informed Goodman that her particular situation was not an emergency.  Goodman was quick to debate the definition of “emergency,” stating that “This is an emergency.  If I would have known they didn’t have McNuggets, I wouldn’t have given my money, and now she wants to give me a McDouble, but I don’t want one.  This is an emergency.”  According to Goodman, she was “robbed.”

A rep from McDonald’s has apologized for the incident, stating that McDonald’s will send Goodman a refund, along with an invitation for Goodman to have her McNuggets meal free of charge.

I have some news for Goodman.  McDonald’s never has chicken McNuggets.  They only offer light-brown cornmeal chunks that have the texture of particle board.  And believe me, I should know, since I ingested my fair share during my “I can’t get fat” phase in high school when food was only good if it was preceded by the word “processed” or “fried.”  Ahh, what a wonderful time in my life . . . So Goodman, you are pretty much entitled to call 911 every single time you order chicken McNuggets, because those bitches taking your money are essentially robbing your ass blind as they hand you cornmeal nuggets and BBQ sauce made of high-fructose corn syrup and vinegar.

And give it up to McDonald’s corporate for offering Goodman a free McNuggets meal.  If every corporation in America gave a free meal worth $3 as amends for bad service, America would descend even further down the world rankings of health.

I’m suddenly thinking about the 30 Rock episode where Jack and Elisa bond over a McFlurry.  That product placement shit doesn’t work on me.  Oooo . . . a McFlurry would indeed be tasty though!  6-piece McNuggets and a McFlurry — Can you get a better meal to kick off the spring?

Discover me, Tina Fey!

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10 Days for Tina Fey — Day Two

As I embark on Day Two of my crusade to locate Tina Fey, I have come to the realization that my desire to work for Tina Fey has permeated nearly every aspect of my otherwise dull life.  In fact, just yesterday, as I was sitting on the toilet, I began imagining what the toilets at 30 Rock studios look and feel like.  I wondered if a simple flush would trigger laughter.  If I would walk down the halls after using the facilities and see Jane Krakowski and Alec Baldwin splitting a bagel.  And as I sat down on the throne of my despair, I realized yet another position I could fulfill for Ms. Fey (in addition to writer, of course).

The idea dawned upon me as I embarked on my preparation of my public toilet seat.  As a female, use of the public toilet is quite the endeavor.  And the preparation begins even before you actually enter a stall.  First, you must assess the aroma of the entire restroom with a basic smell test.  If a single whiff, before entering the stall, would cause dry-heaving, one must make quickly decide whether said aroma could be endured on an exponentially worse basis — or whether holding your bodily fluids in search of another restroom would be the wiser choice.  Second, assuming the smell test has been passed, one must then embark on the stall search.  This involves quickly pushing open various stall doors to find a toilet that passes the vision test — namely a toilet that is filled with only water (small remnants of toilet paper will suffice in a pinch), with a relatively dry floor, a hopefully bone-dry toilet seat, and a supple, dry roll of toilet paper.  Once you have found this toilet, your work is not done.  Claim this stall by locking yourself in the stall, and then embark on step three, which is the hasty clean.

Why must you do the hasty clean, you ask?  Why not just drop down a toilet seat liner or line the seat with some toilet paper and drop your ass down like it’s hot?  Why take the time to conduct the hasty clean?  Well, there is absolutely nothing worse than the feeling of sitting on a toilet seat that you believe is dry, and then feeling the cold, unidentifiable and unknown moisture seep into your skin.  And if you’ve already started peeing as you collapsed down onto the seat, you not only have a wet ass, but by opening the pee dam, you risk peeing all over yourself should you decide to rise off of the seat to minimize additional contact with the unidentified fluids on the toilet seat.

This is where the hasty clean comes in.  The hasty clean involves grabbing a large wad of toilet paper and wiping the actual seat, making sure to wipe not only the top of the seat, but also the outer and inner rings.  Amateur hasty-wipers will often forget about these outer and inner rings of death, but these rings are incredibly deceptive.  Imagine walking into a stall, completing a half-assed hasty clean without sweeping the outer and inner rings.  You set down a clean toilet seat liner.  Believing with all your heart and soul that you will be sitting down onto a dry seat, with a liner separating your bare ass cheeks from the microscopic bacteria on the toilet, you plop your ass down with full confidence — a 100% plop.  Next thing you know, the moisture from the outer and inner rings has quickly dampened the toilet seat liner, and your ass is being completely saturated with what is likely toilet backsplash that had formed small droplets on the inner ring.

What is the point of this post, you ask?  Well, being an expert in the search, location, and preparation of public toilet seats, I could be of great use to Tina Fey.  Imagine the amount of time that Ms. Fey could save by having someone complete all the aforementioned tasks for her, each and every time she needs to use the facilities?  Indeed, with my assistance, Ms. Fey could also increase her fluid intake, for there would be far fewer reasons to avoid relieving herself.  By increasing her fluid intake, Ms. Fey will also become a healthier individual, and the benefits of her health will radiate to her family and her staff, creating a sanitation halo effect.  I clean a toilet — everyone is happy.

My 30 Rock script is complete.  Discover me, Tina Fey!

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