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Archive | November, 2011

A Psychoanalsis of Doug: You Think You Know, But You Have No Idea.

30 Nov

Probably one of the biggest stress relievers for females, besides pills and therapy, is an old fashioned girl’s night. Pop open a bottle of wine, or crack several beers, and just talk about girl shit. Boys always think girls talk about sex when they participate in girl talk. But that’s just not true. We also like to psychoanalyze fictional characters from the 90′s cartoon, Doug. Weird? Fuck you. If this is where my Bachelor’s in Psychology brought me, then so be it. It’s funny, so try it yourself. For best results, consume alcohol.

Ladies and gentlemen, a behind the scenes look at our socially awkward non-hero and his melting pot of friends:

  • Doug: Our protagonist is your everyday average kid at first glance. But 3 minutes into an episode of this show, Doug shows classic symptoms of a severe anxiety disorder with early onset Schizophrenia. Doug is constantly worried about shit that doesn’t even matter. Remember when he got a zit and was so consumed by this zit that he almost missed Beebee’s party? Crazy! You know how many parties I would have missed in middle school due to my acne if I was that terrified of leaving the house? The answer is: numerous parties…because my complexion was stuff nightmares are made of. Doug’s anxiety was intense. Imagine what a buzz kill he would be if YOU were at Beebee’s party with him? And why was his zit TALKING?! Because Doug is a schitzo, that’s why. Don’t believe it? Then also recall Doug’s hallucinations and alter egos. There were a number of them, Quailman, Smash Adams, among others I don’t feel like Googling. He was the fucking Sybil of the Nickelodeon line up. There was also that episode that Doug makes a kite with his Dad that he is ashamed of because it’s too “simple”. An entire 15 minute episode based on Doug’s concerns about this kite. It’s a fucking kite. Anxiety up the ASS.
  • Patty Mayonnaise: Ahh, Doug’s love interest! They made such a cute non-couple, and we all rooted for them through the years. Doug and Patty were like Kevin Arnold and Winnie Cooper, but not alivel. Patty Mayonnaise doesn’t have a mental disorder. But I’ll give you an update on her life. After graduating from The Beebe Bluff school, she became a lesbian. That’s why she was really into sports, chopped off all her hair, and switched from skirt to pants. Maybe you think that’s ignorant/sexist of me and my girlfriends to come up with, but consider this: did she ever end up with Doug? Life is not a fairy tale, Doug…Peter Pan. 
  • Skeeter Valentine:  Skeeter was Doug’s zany best friend who was blue (black equivalent in real life?). Skeeter made crazy, silly sound effects quite often that were all fun and games on the show. But behind the scenes, Skeeter had Tourette’s Syndrome, and the sounds you were hearing, are actually called “tics”. Skeeter hid behind his goofy demeanor to make light of his medical condition. I like to think of Skeeter as an everyday hero. 
  • Mr. Dink: Bad news, guys. Mr. Dink was a pedophile. Yeah. But does that really surprise anyone? Someone on Jumbo Street tipped off the cops after the show went off the air. His house was raided and hundreds of taped over VHS ‘s were confiscated from Dink’s basement. His computer history was also telling. While searching his house, the cops also found stolen electronic parts. How else did you think the guy came up with the dough for his new gadgets? Good riddance from Jumbo St., Dink. Pervert.
  • Roger Klotz: Remember Doug’s bully? I do. He was a real dick. He was also a bipolar, sadist who wore his mother’s lipstick while she was out in Downtown Bluffinton visiting the local watering holes. A lot to take in, I know. Roger took extreme pleasure in making the life of his classmates miserable. He tortured Doug, only enflaming Doug’s anxiety levels to an all time high. There was one episode when Roger enters Doug into a talent contest, just to watch Doug suffer. But then there are those episodes that show Roger’s softer side, like when he falls in love a little too hard with Judy and sports roller skates. Kind of manic, right?  These extreme mood swings point to a diagnosis of bipolar disorder. And taking pleasure in Doug’s suffering for his own satisfaction, was just fucking saddistic. And one more irrelevant thing: did anyone else get a Latino vibe from Roger?
  • Connie Benge: Yeah, I didn’t remember that last name, I’ll admit it. I credit Google. I also credit my best friend Jess who pointed out something I forgot about Connie. Connie was fat on the old episodes of Doug. Then she went away for the summer or something, and was really skinny. Which got Jess’s  brain wondering if Connie had a bad addiction to cocaine. Connie claimed that she went to “makeover camp” the summer she got skinny, but really? She was the fattest chick in the class, I don’t buy the fat camp bullshit. Connie’s behavior became a bit more risk-taking, and deviant as she got skinnier. In the newer episodes of Doug, Connie got wicked into heavy metal and developed a crush on bad boy, Roger Klotz. Pair the newfound bad girl attitude with the excessive weight loss over a short period of time, and I’d say: cokehead. Maybe someone can draw Dr. Drew & Connie on a piece of paper and get the bitch some help. 
  • Chalky Studebaker: The typical jock who was friendly to just about everyone in Bluffington. Except when he was on the field and filled with testosterone that made him aggressive. Chalky was overly competitive. There’s nothing to say about Chalky other than he was trying to compensate for his small you-know-whatsky by being a great athlete. 
  • Beebee Bluff: Beebe Bluff was a snotty, rich, little biatch. Luckily, my friend Jess nailed it with Beebe’s diagnosis.  What I’m about to tell you might make you feel sorry for Beebe. You see, Beebe Bluff was a shopaholic because she was trying to use material possessions to compensate for the lack of love she got from her father, a prominent (and busy) Bluffington politician (I think?). Sad isn’t it? You know what else is sad? This blog entry…as well as the fact that the lady who voiced Beebe died this past June. I found out when I was Googling just now.
  • Chad Mayonnaise (Patty’s dad): Chad Mayonnaise is a paraplegic, you heartless assholes. That’s not a mental disorder, but I bet as soon as you saw his name after Beebe’s picture you had already started judging him. Chad is a great guy, and he lost his wife (didn’t he?), so leave him alone! Fun fact: this thumbnail below is LITERALLY the only Google-able picture I could find of Chad Mayonnaise. But I guess I didn’t really look hard. Doesn’t it look like an AIM icon? Remember those?

Well that’s the list me and my girlfriends came up with. Pretty fucking accurate, right? If you disagree with us, then maybe you should go buy the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Fourth Edition and study it hard. Because I think me and my girlfriends are geniuses. And I think you are full of shit.

*Cred to Jess & Alison for those weird nights fulled with lots of laugh. Love you bitches to the moon and back.

*DISCLAIMER: This post should under no circumstances be taken seriously. And if you take offense, you’re either a stiff or my grandmother.

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Duty Calls

29 Nov

My boyfriend was having a rough start to his holiday season 2 years ago. He was told he was being promoted, but was instead laid off. He did the whole thing guys do when their ego is hurt, “Oh, I was gonna quit that place anyways”. But his pride was hurt, and worse: he was bored & poor. I felt bad for him so I did what any sympathetic girlfriend would do…actually I did what a complete schmuck would do: I bought him a new video game. I had heard all of his guy friends raving about this game called “Call of Duty: Modern Warfare”, so I ordered it online and had it sent to his house as a surprise. At least he would have something to do after spending half his day job hunting, right? Dead wrong. Biggest mistake of my entire life. Call of Duty is a bigger home-wrecker than Angelina Jolie. How could I have been so naive to buy him this game?! Job search was off, duty had called, and my boyfriend had answered by enlisting in the virtual war.

So here is my list of problems with COD:

  • My boyfriend thinks he is playing against real army dudes & forgets who he is actually screaming “You pansy!” at: 10 year olds…
  • The time invested in playing COD takes away from important time that should be focused on how awesome I am.
  • COD warps time. I’ll ask himsweetly, “Are you almost done with that match?” And he will respond, “I just started playing, give me another two rounds then we can watch ‘The Notepad’.” Then I’ll say, “It’s actually called ‘The Notebook’, and just started? You’ve been playing that thing for 7 hours and 34 minutes…without pausing to pee“.
  • The glazed over look in my boyfriend’s eyes as soon as he turns on the PS3:
  • The wicked lame catchphrases that I repeatedly hear the virtual army yell, all day and night. For example:
  • The self loathing I felt for buying this game. Why did I subject myself to this? Couldn’t I have bought him a cooler video game that I could get into? Like Crash Bandicoot…or this:

But after a winter of full blown, crack-like addiction, something miraculous happened. My boyfriend said something beautiful. He uttered the words, “I’m getting sick of Call of Duty“. And from that day on, things were back to normal….well, things were back to my way. I got to watch Teen Mom, Lifetime movies, Sex & the City, Sister Wives, and all my favorite terrible television shows again. And he was right there with me, sure he was miserable with this existence while the remote was in my hands, but life was glorious.

You know what they say though, all good things must come to an end. And just like Teen Mom came out with a new batch of pregnant teenagers for a Teen Mom 2, and Kody Brown married a 4th wife, Call of Duty came out with a new game: Call of Duty Modern Warfare 2. But I wasn’t too concerned. I guess I got cocky, and forgot about the COD Winter of 2010-11 incident. Because I did it again: I overheard my male coworkers talking about the new game. And I went online, and ordered the game to my boyfriend’s house…again. He was so excited, but was wary of my actions. He accused me of purchasing the game as a form of torture…”Look what you have, but I won’t let you play!“. He also suspected an ulterior motive, because Christmas was coming and I realized Blackberry is no Iphone. But no, these accusations were false. I was just an idiot who bought him the same video that almost ruined my life the year before. How could I complain about him playing when I wasn’t naive anymore, I was just…stupid.

Aside from a giant blowout last night that almost resulted in me throwing the PS3 out the window, this round of Call of Duty addiction hasn’t been as bad. Relationships evolve, and you learn how to compromise and make it work. Besides, there is an online support group that is in the form of a Facebook group entitled Girlfriends Who Hate Call of Duty, so I feel less alone.  Every now and then I still hear him screaming, “Screw you, Paula!” at  some weirdo with the PS3 username ‘Paula Abdul’ (like, what?). But life isn’t perfect, and sometimes our boyfriends scream things about a 12 year old’s mother over a headset on the internet. I just try to remember that the day of things going my way again will come sometime in the near future. And the near future is Tuesday at 10pm, the finale of Teen Mom. It’s Gary time. GAME OVER.

Barney

28 Nov

Every group of friends has that one drunk guy who is both entertaining and infuriating. He is the same guy that calls everyone up at insane hours of the night, on a week night, screaming inaudible obscenities at your answering machine. Then he has no recollection of the call. He didn’t work for a while because he was busy playing Madden for a living. He comes to your cookout and instead of saying thank you for cooking, he gets pissed that you forgot to buy mustard, then makes fun of your overweight dog. He is the dude getting all of the girls’ boyfriends riled up to pregame with tequila. He’s completely and totally immoral, but really good things happen to him, like great job offers and season tickets landing in his lap. And when these good things happen to him, it makes you question your faith in God, but you try to laugh it off instead of being insanely bitter and angry. This is the friend who thoroughly enjoys local dive bars, especially those in more urban areas that close later. Basically, he is an obnoxious, ridiculous, loud, raving, drunken, mad man who pisses you off, but also provides the laughs. Okay, maybe not all groups of friends has a friend like this. But my group of friends has one, and his name is *Barney.

There are a few important facts about Barney that you should know:

  • He loves Chinese food to the point of eating fallen General Gau’s off the floor of his work truck.
  • The more intoxicated he gets, the more he starts to speak in 3rd person and scream his own name.
  • He embraces extreme political and cultural views to get a rise out of everyone (Example: Barney is “pro criminal rights”).
  • He owns a blue velour track suit that he insists is suede. Don’t tell him it’s not.

So to be honest, those aren’t important facts that you needed to know about Barney. Those were just bits of information I gave you to be a bitch. Sorry Barney. But you know what? As much as I can shit on Barney for his attire, and his creepy late night phone calls, I was shocked and appalled to learn that someone tried to light our friend Barney on fucking fire. Who tries to light someone on fire? (Besides the lady who lit herself and kids on fire in American Horror Story, but this is real life). Here’s the real life story:

Barney was with his buddy, *Moe one evening (Barney & Moe are names that just go hand in hand, right?). After bar hopping from local dive to local dive, the pair began to grow wary and famished. Typically, Barney starts to rant and rave about his Chinese food cravings around 10pm. This time, his craving was late night…more like 2 in the morning. If Barney knows anything in life, and believe me, he knows very little, he knows for sure when every single Chinese food joint from this side of the Neponset river closes. And he was upset on this particular evening, because even on the other side of the Neponset river, Chinese food places were closed. His dream of China Sky and Peking Kitchen, shattered, vanished like the lo mein on his work truck’s floor. So Barney and Moe decided to head to a breakfast spot in Roxbury. Seems harmless? To Barney, yes. But to every single fucking person who lives in the South Shore, no. This is a bad idea. So Barney and Moe proceed to their establishment of choice.  Here is a picture of this real diner that I googled in case you gave a shit: To Barney’s horror, the Roxbury diner is closed. Shit hits the fan. Actually, it doesn’t. Barney and Moe just decide to go to fucking sleep in the parking lot until the diner opens for breakfast. Completely normal. I know. So Barney fell into a deep slumber outside in the lot and Moe fell asleep in his car. I like to think that they were dreaming of their upcoming feast of hash browns, bacon, and pancakes. But they were black out status, so they were probably just taking a coma.

Barney awakes a short time later. Naturally, he feels like complete shit. I don’t know that for a fact, but I don’t know how it could be any other way. Barney begins sniffing the air around him, searching for that sweet pancake aroma. I don’t know if he did that either, one can only assume. But instead of smelling a delicious breakfast aroma, Barney just smells gasoline. And when he looks down at his body, he discovered he is saturated with gasoline. This can only mean one thing: someone tried to light poor Barney on fucking fire! Barney looks around for Moe frantically before he remembers Moe was passed out in the car. Barney tells Moe of his problem, but even Moe cannot believe that someone would try to light Barney on fire. Poor dude got no Chinese food, passed out in a fucking parking lot, then almost got lit on fire…and no one believed him.

There is a happy ending to this tragic story. Barney got his breakfast. He got 2 pancakes, hash browns, toast, 3 sausages, bacon, ham, and eggs to be exact. And I know this for a fact, because I texted him and asked him if he still got breakfast in his gasoline soaked clothing. I feel that only our friend Barney could be doused in gasoline in a Roxbury parking lot at 4am and still remember that morning for what was really important: the exact number of sausage links he consumed. Our group of friends were so impressed with his overall drunken achievements this year that we showcase his Nike sneaker in this China cabinet: Okay, so that sneaker wasn’t put there in honor. Barney was just drunk one night and forgot his shoe at that apartment. But does that really matter? I’m glad Barney wasn’t lit on fire that night in the Roxbury diner parking lot. Because even if Barney wakes us up at 2am on work nights with his booze fueled banter, he is still our friend. And for entertainment purposes, I recommend every group of friends get a Barney to call their own. But that doesn’t mean that Barney deserves free Patriots season tickets, because he somehow attained them, and it pisses me off.

*Names have been changed to protect the ridiculous.

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