Tag Archives: you life is not so great

A shocking discovery in the finer details of fire safety

Rut roh. Do you remember when I set my nachos on fire and threw them out of a window? (I do!). Well, a shocking revelation has unfolded.

My friends are the sort of people that would mourn nachos

My friends are the sort of people that would mourn nachos

But then

...balls

…balls

The truth is revealed. There is a chance that maybe, several years ago, I put Triscuts and cheese (“nachos”) in the broiler and left them in there for about fifteen minutes. Opened the broiler only to discover the entire mass in flames. And promptly closed the broiler. I then deferred to an adult about the fire I just started.

fire safety 2 2 2
BA hijinx never forgets…

he also reinterprets artistic You Life works

he also reinterprets artistic You Life works

I am going to star in a Lifetime original movie called, “The Littlest Arsonist.”

And, for the safety of all, I should probably retire from my job as a nacho/Triscut/cheese cook.

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Holiday Hell Tour: A Molesty Santa

There are certain things that are sacred and unjoking in my [you] life and those are the traditions I have with my closest mates. For the last ten years we have celebrated two things: our own (un PC named) version of Thanksgiving ( see: youfood for the full update), and the other thing is our annual photo with Santa.

Look at those fly people

Look at those fly people

During the holidays tradition is important.

And one part of this holiday tradition is how much bad touching Santa seems to get away with when I sit on his lap.

In the past it was always just a joke pertaining to the fact that due to my size I would have to be the one perched on Santa’s lap. It was a perfect set up for a joke.

However this year Santa amped up his perv game. When I went to sit on his lap it seemed like awkward quarters, what with so many people flanking us. I ended up plopping onto Mrs. Klaus’s lap. So I popped up off her diminutive frame, but Santa full on grabbed my hips to “re-adjust me” on top his lap. And on the way down onto the holiday lap, Santa got a handful of my ass.

He has his hand on my freaking hip in this shot. Damn you, Santa!

He has his hand on my freaking hip in this shot. Damn you, Santa!

So, Santa is kind of a douche bag.

Happy holidays from You Life (and Bear Ambulance) to you

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Filed under cranky, friends, Holidays, horrifying

Hurricane Sandy and lotsa fuckin’ candy


Oh hey! There was hurricane throughout the East Coast from Sunday to Tuesday of last week. Did you hear about this? Gotta tell you, I ignored every single news report of it because my evil Canadian overlord (see: my job) almost assuredly wouldn’t close. I prepared for the hurricane as the best little You Life I could be. I went to the dollar store and got the essentials:

cat food – look at how fucking terrified that cat is, also 30% protein? Amazing. Cat litter – for cartoon animals

And diet coke.

Sunday night I was lounging when I got a call that indicated that the East Coast was going to fall into the ocean: my office was closed. Perhaps I should have purchased a candle? Nope – let the rains come.

The beginning of the hurricane stay-vaction

On Monday I woke up to a gray sky, but nothing that indicated to me that the gods’ were wrathful. After waking up, going back to sleep, waking up again, and then trying to make a cup of coffee from an espresso machine that I forgot I stole from a cunty ex-roommate I was up. Starving. Bored.

So I assessed the following two things: the secret reserves in the apartment

This is for the end times. The secret storage of candy, syrup, and strawberry fluff

And how it looked outside:

Let’s be frank. There is only so much reading, movie watching, hobby-doing, and masturbating that a person can do in one day. At around two I had enough. I left the apartment to walk to get food. Nothing was open. So then, I did what any adult would do.

I went to see how terrifying the playground was during the hurricane

Shortly after going on the swings a police officer drove by and gave me a very stern tongue lashing pertaining to the idiocy of wandering around during a storm.

Returned home.

Sent this text message to my best friend after the lights started flickering:

“I better not have to wank off by candle light” (it would be like jerking off during Little House of the Prairie times. I want to crank it with all of the modern amenities).

Hunger took over. So I did what I needed to do…

I defrosted the chocolate bunnies from Easter, seven months earlier, and covered them in Cupcake magic shell for dinner

Sadness. Utter sadness.

Finally a friend without power came over with the barest of cooking supplies (defrosted chicken thighs, a mini pan, rice, and rum). Seeing as how I don’t own any of the following: cooking oil, a pot, utensils, or a pan it was going to be a trial to cook both the chicken and rice. But, since I am a bit of a fucking wizard I made an entire meal using the smallest frying pan known to man and an iron skillet that was so large that it could have cooked me. I steamed the rice in the skillet with a pizza box. INDUSTRIOUSNESS.

While cooking this a Queen song played in the background. What is covering the bitty frying pan? A metal pizza “stone” …rust side up.

Tuesday:

Tried to sleep in. With great success

Played SNES for hours

In the battle for Kirby dominance I told Happy Brother Senior to eat an entire bag of dicks and finished the victor.

And then it all de-evolved after the second entire day without leaving the apartment. It de-evolved into me creating this “mojito” mix that I think was a code for rat poison. It called to fill a plastic bucket with warm water, this neon green powder, and rum. Later on that day I could be found amongst the piles of VHS tapes in my apartment, eating the slushy poison out of a bucket, dancing to the last song from the credits in Legend.

No seriously, Tangerine Dream is fucking out of this world amazing.

And that is how I survived.

Because I was fine. And my love was strong enough.

Hearts, and flowers, and posi vibes to those not as ridiculously fortunate as me.

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Filed under apartment, Booze, cooking, food, friends, movies, music, Philadelphia, work

Donnie Wahlberg jeans

There are many incredible things that I was tardy to the party for: The Wire, the awesomeness of video games, orgasms. Despite the depression that comes with finding amazing things late in the game, I would be a less of a person had I never discovered them. This brings me to the most important discovery of my adult life.

During the entirety of my youth I was completely unaware of a certain phenomenon sweeping the land. It was called “the boy band.” I, too, had a boy band phase as a child. For this band:

Peter Tork, you’re so fine!

I was under the impression that the Monkees were a contemporary band (during the 90s) and therefore lauded my admiration for them, endlessly watching taped re-runs of the show on our Beta Max. If you were still wondering, yes I did live a very sheltered life.

However, most well adjusted tweens during this time were sacrificing to the alter of a much more popular god:

Those hats, that hair!

I was completely unaware of this group, or any of their songs, until my boyfriend introduced me to this song at the age of twenty-six:

(spoiler alert: Donnie Walhberg eats a baseball at the end of the video!).

This started my obsession, sixteen years late, with New Kids on the Block. I am so bummed that I missed out on the cultural phenomenon that was NKOTB. They are like a bizarre sociology experiment (I love you, Jordan!) that at one point covered the Delfonics.

they also fuck the air in front of a room full of children

My greatest obsession is with how they dress, and like any teenage devotee I decided to try and emulate their style.

or drink late in the night, wearing over-sized overalls and trying to do the dance moves from Step by Step

Bolstered by those late night dancing sessions I decided to Donnie Wahlberg my jeans

Damn.

Step 1 (we can have lots of fun) Take your jeans and attempt acid washing (tub, chlorine, and rubbing). Mine only dyed to a lighter blue

Step 2 (There’s so much we can do!) attempt fraying process. I started off with scissors.

Step 3 (It’s just you and me!): Scissors didn’t work. I then used a cheese grater.

Step 4 (I can give you more!): Cheese grater was not working. I used an exacto knife, which gave me the best results, also time consuming.

Step 5  (don’t you know that the time has arrived!). I gave up and then just cut holes into the jeans and pulled on the strings.

You too can look like a New Kid. Hang tough, ya’ll.


PS: all pictures (with the exception of the ones of me) are the property of the owner. No theft intended. Peace!

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