Someone Stole My Yogurt...

Well, okay, maybe I'm a wee-bit exaggerating, but it appears that every time I reach into the fridge to obtain a yogurt, the amount of them seems to disintegrate far more rapidly than I am consuming them. I AM the only one in this household who eats them and I AM the only one who purchases them, so why do they seem to be disappearing like fish in a lagoon, when one goes fishing? Maybe it is my mind? I'm only nineteen, dementia can not be affecting me this early in age.

Any who... No ones interested in my yogurt/ dementia ramblings anyway. What else shall I discuss???

Well...for this pointless, piece-of good-for-nothing blog, the best thing I guess I can discuss is my day. My day was neither exciting, nor adventures, but tedious, long, muy aburrido (yeah, I think "you" get the picture). I was guilt tripped by mother to baby-sit her coworkers' children for nine hours. Though I argued quite vehemently through this one, because mother continued with her constant shit of how I am a lazy bastard who has no aspirations/ goals in life, I lost. She furthermore continued to bring up the fact that when she was my age, she was traveling on long-hot subway rides through Manhattan to various hospitals completing her ten-week internship as a respiratory therapist. Well Francine, glad you found enjoyment by sticking tubes down old veterans throats because they were smoke stacks in the days of Vietnyam. Sounds like a thrill! To make a long story short, I found myself with four other girls, babysitting three kids and watching countless episodes of the Wizards of Waverly Place, Jonas, Hannah Montana, and that stupid show with those spoiled twins who live in that big-ass hotel. I even saw a good portion of the Cheetah Girls (made me reminiscent about the days of eighth grade). Early this morning, we watched this show called "Upside Down" on that Noggin channel which mainly consisted of two homosexual men tripping on acid. Seriously people? I pity the children of this era who have nothing better to watch than brats being wizards or a superstar and her "alter ego." I have come to the conclusion that when my maturity level heightens and I procreate and reproduce, my children are not going to be viewing this shit. Instead, I will be the proud owner of various old-school nickelodeon DVDs, which my children will watch. I don't care if they're bootleg, those were some good classic shows. I have great memories of my mother ditching me in front of the TV when I was about four or so, to go let my monkey-brother play suckle-suckle on her nipple, while I spent countless hours watching classics of Doug, Rugrats (only the ones where Tommy was an only child and Chucky's dad had not remarried), Rocko's Modern Life, Legends of the Hidden Temple (I think thats it's name), and Are You Afraid of the Dark?. AYAOTD? always creeped me out a bit, so I guess I'l wait till my kids are older to let them view it. There are so many more shows, but I have no energy/motivation for me to list them. I think "you" get the gist of my argument here: 

The only thing the Disney Channel is good for is that it serves as a  sufficient tool for babysitters to throw small children in front of for enough time to sneak their significant other onto the premises for a decent fuck.

For this very reason...I WILL ALWAYS HAVE GREAT PRIDE IN BEING A "CHILD OF THE NINETIES"

Mr. Smithsonian, Dressed in Colonial Attire, With a Toupee', in Sheepshead Bay (hey, that rhymes!)

Wow...it's been certainly a long time since I blogged. According to my last post, y last blog took place on June 5th and today is July 10th (as of 1 hour and 43 minutes ago), therefore I have not blogged in 35 days. For all my loyal followers (Louis, Taylor, and Michael), my sincere apologies for not wasting your time in the past 35 days for not entertaining you with my constant ramblings. Apparently, stealing WI-FI from old Jewish people is not the most successful method to rely on when it comes to updating your useless, pointless blog. 

     For those who actually give a crap, this trip was not swell, so shut up with your jealously of how I vacation in New York and your stuck in Hilton Head or Martha's drunk-people's vineyard, or wherever you usually go. I was confined to my Dad's Toyota Highlander with my parents and brother all the way from Macon to Brooklyn. For those who maybe concerned we failed to "Cape the Cod" or "Inform Walcott that the Bottleneck is a shit show," which was part of the original plan for this excursion. Instead, we spent a week being the oh-so prominent Americans that we are and hit up every single Smithsonian Museum in Obama-land.  Not only did we entail on these "Smithsonian journeys," but my family also felt compelled to tour every single federal building in the 60 square miles that consists of the District of Columbia and spend sixty bucks visiting the Spy Museum (yes Michael, I agree it was very corny, but it was not my idea to go). Now, I have no issues learning about the government (or what the government wishes to inform the public regarding itself), but seven days doing it is not the best surf board to be surfing.  The best part of this leg of the trip was when some police kicked us off the front of the white house while we were taking pictures. Then I got stung by some odd insect and said a swear in front of small children and my mother got mad at me. Actually, if you cross your fingers and click your feet three times, I might be able to upload a video for you to watch regarding this incident.

     After this patriotically-intense week, the Hirsh's decided to spend some "quality family time" taking Shannon to visit colleges. Sadly, Sol's non-reliable GPS ruined the "quality" in "quality family time." We went to Baltimore and visited Towson and Goucher (some hippy lady gave me hug and thought she was my bff) and then Philly to see Temple. We never actually received a grand tour of Temple, seeing as after we walked 3 miles through the ghetto to get there, my mother refused to finance my education to attend that institution. Therefore, we spent our 48 hours in Philly touring more historical sites (we just can't get enough of them, can we?) and putting up with them to avoid my mother snarling and reminding me of the disrespectful, irresponsible bitch that I am. I guess the best part of this was watching people with hair plugs dressed as colonial inhabitants, pretending to be having the time of their life. At one point, I waved at one that was about 20 yards away from me and he bowed at me. My brother gave me a dirty look for having contact with another human whose last name was not "Hirsh." Overall, Phildalphia sucks balls and I would not recommend spending "quality family time" or for the most part, any "quality time" there. The place smells like a septic tank too.

     After this, we spent some time  in the Big Apple. But guess what? Nothing happened. Unlike our previous adventures  in which we made deep, passionate, love to every historical site on the east coast, we spent a good portion of the time in my grandparents musty apartment and cleaning it out. One day we saw family. They were doing well. We ventured to the city for one day, but a 19 year old venturing into NYC with their parents and brother to visit Times Square is not the most exciting thing in the world. Especially if you've done it about 20, 000 times before and know the place like the back of your hand (please excuse my bragging). We saw Westside Story on Broadway (which was pretty decent) and after the show venders were selling Obama condoms and yelling comments like "buys these for long and hard times!" and "remember the election with your next erection!"

     The most amusing thing that occurred while in New York were the characters in which we came across who resided in my grandparents' apartment complex. The first one was this woman who will be referred to as "Yenta." Well, Yenta was a big lady who loved to gossip. She bought some dressers and chests from the apartment and my brother and I helped move them up to her apartment. She had a nice Jewish son who was currently attending some big-ass prestigious engineering school somewhere up north. She also didn't miss the  beat on how his "girlfriend" was the rocket science club president at her school (At that point I lost interest in the conversation all together) . I wasn't aware that rocket science clubs exist, but according to Yenta, they do. Her biggest gossip news was that she knew who took my Grandfather's parking spot in the garage after he died (apparently these spots are like gold for the old Jews) and didn't pay for it for three months during the winter, which really REALLY BIG NEWS. Evidently, she was very impressed with herself for knowing this.  The second character of amusement that we came across will be referred as "Yento." Yento retained many of the same traits as Yenta (gossipy, large features, loud, obnoxious,  like to get in your business etc.) except he was gay (I guess both were attracted to men though). Unlike Yenta's obsession with garage parking spots, Yento had an obsession with air-conditioning units. He told us the co-op charges us for each unit installed in the windows and that we should probably take them out. Like Yenta, we also proud of himself for knowing this "inside scoop." He also sported a toupee' which did not fit quite so well on his head.

So now, you know that those 35 days were not spent with me having sex with random guys, but engaging in "quality family time." So, I hope whoever reads this (if any of you actually do) doesn't stay awfully mad at me for long and I'll try to keep up to date with my "blogging" so you will have some form of entertainment for all of 5 minutes.

By the way, if anyones interested in a 2 bedroom, 1 bath apartment in the heart of Sheepshead Bay, hit me up. I got connections.

(Oh yeah, I can't get my camera to work, right I want yo go to bed, so i'll try to download pictures and videos on here tomorrow)

Always with love...