Tuesday, July 31, 2007

Just Imagine What They Could Do At Gitmo



Now this is rehabilitation. Do yourself a favor and watch this "Thriller" remake carried out by inmates at the Cebu Provincial Detention and Rehabilitation Center in the Philippines. You try to scream, but laughter takes the sound before you make it.

My favorite part of this reenactment (and, believe me, there are many) is the fact that the she-male prison bitch playing the part of MJ's girlfriend was actually way more believable than Ola Ray. The blue scrunchie was a nice touch, as well.

These guys are awesome. Except the guy on the left in the third row. He’s about a half-second behind everyone else. And while he clearly knows that the shoulder shuffle is where he shines, I don't quite believe his hip thrusting. Way to ruin it for everyone, guy on the left in the third row.

Saturday, July 28, 2007

It Mah Birfday


I turned 28 on Saturday. Oldness! Went to a carnival in Central Park to get in touch with my inner child. Instead, I ended up showing my age by pulling a muscle on this ride, which is targeted at 8-year-olds and requires no physical exertion beyond simply sitting in a swing.

But, to be honest, as much as I complain, I actually don’t care if I get old.

I just care if I’m thin.

Thursday, July 26, 2007

The New Strollers?


During lunch hour, this prospective juror kept his child in a grocery cart. Welcome to jury duty. These are your peers.

Law & Order: Call of Duty



Jury Duty, that is. This is Noelle Hancock, coming at you live from 100 Centre Street in downtown Manhattan! While I'm here, I figured I might as well live-blog this Grishamian adventure.


8:45 a.m.: I told my parents last night that this is the closest I’m ever getting to a court room unless I’m in handcuffs (they annually call to tell me when the LSATs are taking place and provide the location of the nearest test-taking facility in my area).

9 a.m.: Damn, there are a lot of bad outfits up in this piece. One woman actually has bells on her socks. She’s approximately 45 years old.

10:10 a.m.: My court officer just revealed to the room that he moonlights as a spin instructor. I really don't know what to do with this information.

11:30 a.m.: Lots of reading. Why do people always complain about jury duty? You’re basically being paid to read the paper. I haven’t been this well-informed in years.

Noon: Two-and-a-half hours for lunch?? Rock! I ask myself, "Where would Fred Thompson eat?" A quick look around reveals that, in the criminal justice system, the local eateries are represented by two separate but equally disgusting food groups – the street hot dogs steamed in human sweat and the hamburgers that have at least five hard things in them. These are your options. [chung, chung!]

3 p.m.: The lawyers sit us down in groups and have us answer a series of questions. “Where do you live? Did you graduate college? What are your hobbies?...” My hobbies? I haven’t had "hobbies” since I was filling out my college applications, and even back then, most of them were made up. I want to say bestiality and class A drugs but instead I answer, “Uh, yoga?”

4:30 p.m.: A fellow prospective juror -- with an uncanny resemblance to Uncle Junior from The Sopranos -- has the winning numbers from the last several years of New York lottery drawings. He tells me he believes there’s a pattern in the numbers and he’s thisclose to deciphering it. I really don’t want to be sequestered in an enclosed room with this individual.

5 p.m.: Omg. They picked me. Say hello to Juror #4.

Monday, July 23, 2007

A Mother’s Dilemma





As pretty much everyone is aware, I am the proud owner of two darling parakeets, Jesus and Stuart. And I'm completely enamored of them, absurdly so.

But I’ve been sitting here for a half hour watching Stuart play with his plastic rings, continually getting his head stuck, then squawking and flapping about indignantly for awhile, then at last dislodging his head. Then he does it all over again.

So I've reached that point every mother reaches where I'm wondering if my parakeets are just stupid, or if I just expected too much from them in the first place?

Maybe I just need to back off and let them find themselves? Before they end up empty overachievers, miserable on the inside. You know, like Asian kids!

Mattel Introduces New Line of “Supercilious String” for Uppity Children

Wednesday, July 18, 2007

Thanks For the Memo-ries

A recent trip to my office bathroom reveals that someone has taken up their pen and scrawled an addendum to last month's wonderfully entertaining bathroom memo.






I'm going to take a leap of faith here and assume that it says "and no vomit" instead of "and ho vomit." Because I think we can all agree, ho vomit is always welcome.

Actually, It Was Kind Of Great

I was waiting for the F Train on Saturday when the dude standing next to me looked over and said…

Dude: "Hey, you're a pretty girl. Can I get your number so we can go out sometime?"

Me: "Sorry, but I'm actually seeing someone."

Dude: "Oh, okay. [PAUSE] So what did you think of my approach?"

Monday, July 16, 2007

Any Excuse to Post This Picture


I was on my way to work this morning, walking through the Rockefeller Center subway station alongside a pretty blonde girl wearing a black dress when she suddenly started vomiting vodka cranberries. The best part? Girlfriend didn’t even break stride! She just kept walk-vomming the entire way. So I did what anyone in my situation would have done. I pointed at her and yelled, “THAT was fantastic.”

It reminded me of this time in college when I was lying horizontally in a friend’s barcalounger and projectile vomited with such force that I didn’t actually get any vomit on myself. It went clear across my body and landed on the floor a good two feet past the foot rest.

It's like, even if you didn’t agree with it, you had to respect the concept.

Wednesday, July 11, 2007

I'm Just Going To Say It


I don't appreciate how Hilary Duff forces Haylie upon us.