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Warning: Gangnam Style Meme ahead


I couldn’t find anything similar on the Internet, so I made one of my own.  Enjoy!



Random Ramblings, or Overheard in Mollie’s World


Testing out new names for my Random Ramblings page.  It will probably come down to being called “Random Ramblings, or [whatever my alternate title is of the moment]” and I’m okay with that.  Let’s get started.


“Can you please pass me the jigger?”
“That’s ‘JIGGA,’ you can’t say ‘jigger!'”


(During an Apples to Apples game)
“All right, here’s what we’ve got for ‘twisted.’  We have Princess Diana, SHE is not twisted.”
“She is now.”


Text1: So we have a nice discussion, I’m playing it cool on the outside while I’m thinking OMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMG
Text1: hehehe…if you off centered that people would think that I’m saying GOM!  GOM!  GOM!


“Yeah, bicycles are manly.  So manly that Queen wrote a song about them.”


“The one time I really interacted with him he came off so dumb.”
“To his credit he’s actually pretty bright.  He just doesn’t express it well because he has the personality of a piece of cork.”


Text1: when is your free sat our is it only free from job so you can go to the other?
Text2: No idea what you’re trying to say
Text1: That was heavily autocorrected…
Text2: It’s fun to read out loud
Text1: me talk pretty one day


Text1: i wouldnt get bored either
Text1: if I was having an orgy with 3 men
Text1: if I found it boring, that would make me sound GAYER than I already made myself sound


“I don’t believe in God!”


Text1: and it’s kinda like a fluffer nutter
Text1: but with attitude.
Text2: but a fluffer nutter has nothing to do with chocolate…
Text2: also
Text2: heheheheheheheh fluffer
Text1: MY fluffer has chocolate on it
Text1: …wow
Text1: SHUT UP!


“What do you call an Ethiopian family portrait?  A barcode!”
“OH MY GOD!  I have to tell my mom that one!!”




Soooo I’m opening for Bonnie McFarlane this weekend!  South Jersey kids, check this out!



The info is also updated on my calendar!





And you can also check out the facebook event!




What am I???


Shoot guys, Facebook asked me to decide on my employment.













At least Facebook gets it anyway.  Now I just have to keep convincing the rest of the world that this is my job.  That at least one of these is my job.

What are Random Ramblings?


Hey all!  It’s been awhile.  My fault.  Let’s move on.

So, I made two posts back in the day titled “Random Ramblings.”  You can find them here and here.   Basically, they’re pages of overheard quotes, both spoken as well as via any type of electronic messaging.

Random Ramblings started when I was in high school, a long, long time ago.  Honestly, actually not that long.  But brace yourselves because it was long enough ago for me to include some SERIOUS THROWBACK TERMS into this story.

Back in AIM’s (what??) heyday, we all had not just AIM profiles, but AIM subprofiles (WHAAAT??).  Shit guys, I almost forgot what those things were called.  I had to google it, and while in my rabbit hole I found some other antiques like “buddy profile” and “angelfire.”

Anyway, we could make a bunch of different pages on our subprofiles – favorite quotes!  More info about me!  Some survey I ripped off a chain email to tell you even more about me!  We didn’t have lives.

I created a page that I titled “Random Ramblings.”  Initially it was going to be some drivel about whatever I felt like ranting about at the time.  But apparently my mind was vacant for awhile after that and the page remained blank.  You’ve all seen how often I update this blog – seriously, some things never change.

At some point, I decided my friends and I say funny things, and I wanted to document this somewhere.  Then I realized I have a blank page on my subprofile called “Random Ramblings”!!  HOW PERFECT!  And thus THE Random Ramblings was born.  It kept going until I busted through the character limit on the page.  Then I created a new page, and kept that up until I busted through the page limit on my subprofile.  Then my ramblings all migrated to a page I created on AOL Hometown (SERIOUSLY WHAT??), which got shut down at one point, but luckily I saved all my ramblings onto an MS Word document (phew that’s still relevant), so they’re still alive – just mostly unpublished.

So in coming up with ideas of stuff I can blog about, I thought about unearthing some of these ramblings (and adding a few current ones, since believe it or not, a few funny things were said since high school).  I thought it was genius.  It was addictive then, why shouldn’t it be addictive now?

Then I realize it’s not catching on.  And I had no idea why.

“Because anything you say on your blog is like a tree falling in the middle of the woods, because you write in it once like every eight months.” SHUT UP I DIDN’T ASK FOR YOUR OPINION.

It failed to occur to me that the ratio of people I went to high school with versus the rest of the world is not in my close-knit circle’s favor.  “Random Ramblings” was a title I gave to similar pages back in the day, when I only had a handful of friends who caught onto the concept and COULDN’T FREAKIN WAIT (their words, not mine, honest) for my next installment.  Anyone who sees a blog titled “Random Ramblings” without having been friends with me in high school probably thinks I’m rambling about random things.  Weird conclusion, right?

So will I change the title of my Random Ramblings segments moving forward to make it more stranger-friendly?  Will I force people to just catch on for themselves?  Will I quit being a comedian and become a professional flautist? I don’t quite know yet.  I’ve only tried to play a flute like twice in my life.  At any rate, stay tuned.  And impress people with your newfound knowledge of Random Ramblings history.

My time at the concentration camp


The following is actually a blog post I wrote four years ago when I was spending some time out in Europe.  I originally wrote it on MySpace – and then MySpace turned into the Internet equivalent of that creepy old guy at bars who wears what’s left of his hair in a faux-hawk as a desperate attempt to remain relevant.  Anyway.  I’m re-posting it here because I’ve just encountered an interesting post-script to this story while working on that other project I’m doing.  So I want to give this post life on a forum that hasn’t died yet, so that anyone interested in both stories can access them.  Original story has been copied-and-pasted, nothing’s been edited even though I think some of what I wrote back then was stupid and SHOULD be changed.  Oh well.  Deal.

A Clockwork Auschwitz

June 21, 2008


I got back from Budapest at 6AM and since then haven’t really been able to sleep- not only did I cease to be tired, but Nicole and Kuba were on the bed while Kasia took the couch, so even if I wanted to sleep I only had the option of the floor.  So instead I grabbed the laptop and a few cups of coffee and caught up on life for awhile since there wasn’t too much going on outside.

The day before we left for Budapest, we went and saw Auschwitz and Birkenau.  Which was an unexpectedly WEIRD experience for me that I can no longer keep to myself.  And the more chronologically detatched  I become from the experience, the more nightmarish it seems- terrible indeed, yet ultimately surreal- like it didn’t really happen.  Sadly though, I think I’m freaked out for all the wrong reasons.

Oh yeah, also, I apologize but this rant probably isn’t going to be too funny.  But it IS about concentration camps after all.

Let’s go back to the start, before leaving to go there.  I’m actually, for lack of a better word, excited to see Auschwitz, as it fascinates me despite it being such breeding grounds for horrific activity.  But at the same time I’m wary, because I feel like I’m just going to be reading information just like I would at most other historical sites, and that I’d feel more desensitized to it than anything else- or worse yet, make jokes.  I always do that; I know I’m brutally irreverent but I wanted to turn that off for once.

Now we get there, Nicole, Viki and myself, and we part ways for a bit- Viki in one direction, Nicole showing me around in the other.  My eyes start to water.  Of course I look around at the dirt paths and the grass, think of all the dirt and dust that’s being kicked up and think “it’s probably allergies” (those will be my famous last words someday).  So we go to one of the indoor exhibitions and I figure my sinuses will thank me for it.


I realize I’m having trouble keeping my eyes open.  I can’t keep them open for more than 3 or 4 seconds at a time without having to blink.  So I can’t read the displays very thoroughly because I don’t want to keep Nicole behind due to my weird inability to open my eyes.  So I listen to her talk about what we’re seeing and walking through, as I’m getting more out of listening to her anyway than I would have reading the factoids.

I’m a little disappointed though.  I mean, I came all this way out here, and now I can’t get the full experience just because I didn’t bring Benadryl.

That’s when I realize…this isn’t allergies (my other future famous last words).  My eyes aren’t itchy, and they’re not even watering all that much.  What I’m experiencing is some strange hypersensitivity to light.  Which explains why I can’t keep my eyes open and why I was considering wearing sunglasses indoors.  I have no idea what caused this, as I’ve never had this problem before outside of getting those pupil-dilating eye drops from the eye doctor.

I’m thinking, I could probably benefit from my eyes watering or tearing up a little bit.  But I don’t want that to happen because I don’t want to look like I’m getting emotional, because I’m not- and I don’t want to disrespect people who actually DO become emotional here.

When we got back outside, I asked Nicole to take a look at my eyes- I’m convinced that my pupils must be the size of frisbees.  On the contrary, they apparently looked very constricted.  I used every last bit of willpower imaginable to restrain myself from making a “Someone left some gas going in the chambers” joke, as it’s the first thing I’d instinctly say but the last thing I wanted to say.  I’m a little freaked out at this point because I have no idea what’s going on, or how long it will last.  But who knows when I’m going to find myself back here, so I keep trucking.

So the next exhibit we went to was called the…how the hell should I know, I couldn’t read the sign…but that’s when things got rotten.  It was an exhibit showing daily life in the concentration camps, but it involved a good 7-10 projections on the walls, and all the factoids were on glass plates that were lit up from underneath- so looking at ANYTHING in the room involved looking directly at some light.

My eyes were getting worse too; it felt more like inverse-blinking, where my eyes remained closed in most of the room but I could open them for maybe a second at a time.  I walked into a BENCH because I couldn’t see the goddamned thing.  It felt like sitting in an eye doctor’s office, when they dilate your pupils and then shine about 10 different lights at them and force you to keep your eyes open the entire time.

But then I wondered, why the hell did I want to open my eyes anyway?  The images on the walls- and the corresponding captions -were not much of anything that you WANTED to look at for more than a second at a time.  But then it became a sort of catch-22; I wanted to open my eyes, but then every time I did I had to see something horrible.  And the heartbeat sound effect they had playing in the background of the room was NOT helping things any.

We leave the room and it’s almost time to meet up with Viki, and I just want to get the hell out of the place.  I’m miserable, freaked out because I don’t know what’s wrong with me…and at the same time I feel like such a pussy.  People went through much worse conditions here for months on end before they died here.  And I can’t even put up with it for two hours because boo hoo, I can’t look at bright light.

So due to some miscommunication and an inability to find her, Viki ends up waiting for an hour for me and Nicole, and is reasonably annoyed for that.  I’m still a miserable freaked out pussy, who’s now feeling bad for letting down my friend, but I’m keeping my mouth shut and trying to truck on.  That’s when Nicole mentions that I’m not feeling well, and Viki makes the suggestion to go back home, even though she barely got to see anything either.

So I’m a miserable, freaked out pussy who let my friend down and is NOW ruining the experience for everyone.  I promptly proceed to break down crying.  And Auschwitz carves another notch in its proverbial slate.

I actually feel a little better after having teared up, so I put my sunglasses on and convinced the girls that I was OK to at least see Birkenau for a little bit.  Funny thing though…while I was starting to feel better after having left Auschwitz, I feel like that was probably the only way for me to have an experience there that DIDN’T involve me being desensitized to everything I saw (or didn’t see).  So it’s not an experience I necessarily regret.

But looking back, it’s really weird that the parameters of my light-sensitivity coincided almost directly with my time in Auschwitz.  Maybe that’s just nature’s way of saying I’ll feel like I’m going blind, should I ever try to start a concentration camp?



Random Ramblings!


Back by my own demand!

And remember, as part of the “cookie” challenge…you can submit 10 ramblings (and not even all at once!) for a coupon.  See here if you don’t know what the “cookie” challenge is.

And they’re off!

“Within 90 minutes of quitting smoking, your lung function already begins repair!”
“Within 90 minutes of quitting?  If that counts, then I quit smoking about 11 times a day!”


“Oh, that’s where you don’t know me, I’m as Spanish as a rug!”
“As Spanish…as a rug?  Like the Oriental ones?”
“Yup!  I’m an idiot.”




“So does that taste much different from the other drink?”
“Are you asking me if my beer tastes different from my margarita?  I have tastebuds, so, yes.”


text1: Have a fun class!
text1: OR ELSE


“Shut up!”
(Loud fart.  Everyone laughs.)
“You told me to shut up and my ass didn’t listen.  It’s a rebel!”
“What are you gonna do, send it to ass reform school?”
“Or bad-ass school!”


“This credit card looks so cheap and gaudy!  Doesn’t it look like it’s made of plastic?”


text1: I don’t know what to wear to this interview!
text2: Wear clothes!
text1: Gee, thanks.
text2: Well, you always turn down every suggestion I give you.
text2: So I wanted to see you go naked.


text1: Don’t wear anything complicated.
text2: So I guess padlocks are out?
text1: Yes but chains are encouraged.
text2: But how am I going to keep the chains together?
text1: The goal is for the chains to not be together for too long so…Scotch tape?
text2: I thought they were supposed to be together?  Maybe I’m not on the same page here, aren’t we talking about re-enacting the Jacob Marley scene from A Christmas Carol?
text1: Well yeah, but lockless chains might make more noise.  Also we need you to be able to do a quick change as you’ll be playing Scrooge as well.


“What is that on the shelf?”
“It’s for my trumpet, it’s called a straight mute.”
“Oh…as opposed to a gay mute?”

I’d prefer a creepy uncle, really.


Let me take a little time to promote a friend of mine, Manny Rondon, and his sketch group, Far Fetched.

They’ve put bunches of sketches up on YouTube – I haven’t seen too many, because my computer HATES ME AND TAKES A WHOLE FREAKING DAY TO PLAY A 1:03 VIDEO (any techie whizzes wanna come by and help?  It won’t be a B-list porno scene, I won’t be wearing a leopard print garter belt when you show up, I actually would be grateful for the input), but the ones I’ve seen are top notch.

Like this one involving a cop chase…gone weird  fun…


Check out more of them:

As for me, I’m getting some sleep while I wait for another video on my computer to fire up.  Seriously folks, I come in peace…I don’t even own a leopard-print garter belt.

Did Someone Say “Mash-Up”?


Why, yes!  But it’s not some Rocky Horror Picture Show/Lady Gaga hybrid this time (unfortunately).

I was reading this article from the New York Times (yes, I realize it’s a few months old…so I have a little catching up to do) about the future in media consumption.  The article’s interesting as a whole, but the word “Mash-Ups” naturally caught my eye, and a good point was actually raised:

“MASH-UPS AND HYBRIDS WILL RULE Everything that can be mashed together will be. The Tea Party will do a debate with CNN, and the Showtime series “Homeland” will be a cable series, an on-demand product, an app and a community. That informational crawl at the bottom of your television set? It could come from the broadcaster or it might come from Twitter. Soon the Oscars award show could be accompanied by comments from your wisecracking friends, not on your phone but on the bottom of your flat-screen. Huge world events will first appear on social media platforms and then leap to mainstream media and back again. The books you read to your children will take over when you are tired and read themselves, or they might turn into a game when the joys of unadorned narrative begin to bore.”

I’m kinda looking forward to this new world, personally.  In fact, I kinda wish I had books that turned into games when I was a kid.  Namely, my textbooks – which I turned into games manually, by swiveling my chair 90 degrees to a Solitaire game.  Kids those days.

However, while it has its pros and it has its cons, I like this idea of integration.  I feel like it’s where we’re going as a whole, what with this ability to contact someone on the other side of the world in under a second.  Whether it’s a clash or a collaboration, everything’s coming together quickly.  For better or for worse, it creates more color in the world, more influences, more ideas, and to me it makes this place a great deal more interesting.

Of course, eventually, we’ll all be integrated enough that the world will likely be reduced to some global version of that uniform, prehistoric village of sorts where everyone in the pack looked, acted and thought the same.  But I’ll hopefully be long dead by then.

And no, I don’t believe that the idea of “villages” were really a part of prehistoric times.  Or humans for that matter. But I said what I said, so deal.



Garfield the cat and art manipulation – whadda match!


The first thing I ever found funny in life was probably Garfield the cat.  And say what you want, I will defend him until the day I die.

One thing I’ve also always been interested in, though, is seeing my favorite pieces of art – songs, movies, cartoons, etc. – be creatively manipulated.  Which would explain why I have a comedygasm every time I see a parody or satire, and why I have more mash-ups and cover songs in my music collection than…most other people you know.

There are – not one, but – TWO glorious manipulations of Garfield comics that are a – procrastination enablers, and b – sometimes (lots of times) funnier than the original.  Both have been around for years, but I forgot they existed and just remembered again, so now I’m reminding you again in case you forgot.

The Garfield Randomizer  takes three comic panels at random and splices them together.  Most of the time it still makes sense.

Garfield Minus Garfield takes Garfield out of the comic strips, making Jon Arbuckle look like a lunatic.  Observe:





There.  My thoughts for the night are complete.  But I’m not done talking about Garfield, so consider yourself warned.

Because I was looking to get a larger penis too…


So, I have a little guilty pleasure for spam mail.  I love reading – and laughing at – the subject headings on them, especially with the penis enlargement ads.

I remember the first time I got a male enhancement e-mail.  I was in the high school library – my first time there – and the librarian was showing me how to do something that required me to check my e-mail for a confirmation.

This lady’s looking over my shoulder the entire time.  I had yet to receive the e-mail confirmation.  But I did have one new message: “Viagara 40% off!  Pleasure her all night!”

Little did I know I’d be pleasured for the next 11 years and counting, because they’ve only been trying harder and harder (no pun intended) since their debut.

So without further ado, I spent a rainy afternoon down a rabbit-hole of spam e-mail, and re-lived a few good memories…here’s the best of the best.

COCKZILLA is the word

The original lyrics to “Grease” no doubt.  They must have nixed it when they realized “COCKZILLA’d Lightning” didn’t have the same ring to it.

Wonder pills for thrills

Among the hills.  Desire fills.  Won’t jack up your bills.  Do you have gills?  Take it easy, Shakespeare. 

Crazy girls gone wilder

I don’t think “crazy” was a good word to use here.  I saw this and immediately imagined a Tonya Harding/Casey Anthony sex tape.

So hard you can break an egg

The mechanics of this one are mind-boggling.  The next time I’m in such a situation, I think I’m gonna put this theory to use and see if you CAN break an egg this way.  Or submit it to MythBusters.

Hot Latinas banged by Germans

That just sounds like a lost chapter from my world history book.

Dreaming of a White Christmas? 

I rolled my eyes at this first.  Then I saw it was actually spam from Radioshack, and laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

You will love the results on your organ

Little does the consumer know they’re actually talking about pancreas enhancement here.

Boob jobs that look like these

So, this was from a sender called “Penis Growth Promo.”  Frankly, I think this is one company that’s just spreading themselves way too thin.

And that’s all I got for now.  Unfortunately, my spam folder auto-deletes occasionally, so I couldn’t dig back more than a few months.  But if you’ve got any good doozies, submit them to me and maybe – JUST MAYBE – I’ll owe you a cookie.

I made my comeback!


To all: is fully alive and kicking!  As soon as I get it down to a little more clockwork-type-science, I’ll start tending to my comedy career again.

Although, given the blogs on EHexperience, one could argue that I’m still working on my comedy career through that, in some respect.


Ah, you decide.