Archive for September 2010

Happy Birthday to my Hubbie

September 26, 2010

HAPPY 18th BIRTHDAY TO MY WONDERFUL HUSBAND OF 33 YEARS, KING AARON!

Roses are red
Violets are violet.
One could be chocolate.
Things could be a lot worse.
 
We’ve been rockin around the clock for 33 straight years,
And yet you still are the cause of all my greatest fears, (Ex: heart attack game)
 
Through bad wigs and good heels, tahtoos and stripper poles,
We’ve suffered the wrath of the many, but have a met a few good souls.
 
You are finally a legal negal, you are finally free,
The world is yours, now go see what you can see.
Even greater adventures await us in the years to come,
including college, New York City, night clubs and rum.
 
This is going to be our best year yet, I can feel it in my bones,
so trust me when I say its going to happen, I don’t want to hear you moan.
 Donny, Ching-Ho, Zarcatamus, Melvin, and all the rest,
I’m tellin all the fellas that you are the best!
 
HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!
 
 

Love,

Marie, Daney Marie Waney,  Mr. Puppy, Bun-Foo, Madame Ogre (little ogsie), Shruberry.

P.S. King A and I are planning to renew our vows in a second wedding now that he is of legal age to get married. Also so his mom can make these chicken apple burgers I really like.

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And that’s the news you need to know

September 24, 2010

This is the second mixed Signals video. I told you they would get better. I think one of the funniest things I’ve noticed is how many expressions I make, it’s almost obnoxious. I guess I am just a very expressive individual.

But I do think we look really cute. Travis and myself were going for the Weekend Update- Tina Fey/Jimmy Fallon- feel. I think we got pretty close.

Enjoy!

Toasties

September 19, 2010

While interning at the Chamber this summer, I was given the opportunity to join Toastmasters International.

This invitation took me by surprise, because  I did not really know what Toastmasters was. First, I thought it was a club that talked about international toasting techniques, like what toaster setting to cook the bread on so that it would come out golden brown and different buttering methods/techniques, but that wasn’t right.

Then I was confused because  I am not even old enough to consume alcohol yet, so I didn’t think I would be allowed to join a club that teaches people to write nice toasts, to be said during the “cheersing” of champagne at  weddings, anniversaries and other important events. But that wasn’t right either.

Well much to my surprise (this is just one more example of how stupid I can be since I didn’t know this in the beginning), in Toastmasters, which I have dubbed Toasties, we do not talk about buttering toasts or writing toasts. Toasties is actually a club that focuses on improving your public speaking skills and certifying you as a “competent communicator.”

Even more surprising than the lack of toasted bread and wedding toasts, is the fact that I actually really like Toasies. We meet on Friday mornings, and of course everyone in the club is kind of old, but they are all just as crazy as my friends at the gym.

The president is rather scatter-brained and a real jesus-lover, which makes me laugh; then there is one guy who reminds me of my dad the way he can just ramble on for hours and suffers from a slight case of social awkwardness;then there is the over zealous almost professional Toastmaster guy, who used to be a member of like 30 Toasties clubs at once; then there’s a nice, funny guy who is also a jesus-lover and of course some kind of youth minister who always gives very inspiring speeches (he’s my fave); and the funky, spunky, jesus-loving guy who practices his speeches and always knows them perfectly or just makes them up as he goes along and knows them perfectly; and some other people too.

It is really quite fun. So far I’ve given my intro speech, where I totally faked everyone out by saying I was an alcoholic and a speech on Lady Gaga and her amazingness. I also gave a speech about the time I tried to be a runner in the morning but ended up nearly breaking my ankle for a humor competition, I didn’t win though.

However, I did win for the Table Topics competition. In fact, I have won the “Most Improved Table Topics” ribbon like three times and I am going to compete to represent my Toasties club at regionols.

Table Topics is basically a minute of improv, which is why I like it so much. The Table Topic Master (aren’t all these official names hilarious?) gives you a question or a prop or a topic and you have to talk about that for at least a minute to qualify. For example, the question that got me to the regional competition was answering if a Mosque should be built by Ground Zero, but they are not always that serious.

Once I pretended I was a fortune-teller named Madame Babballa and just this last week I told everyone that Prince Zimbuabau was the face on the $10 bill. I can make up some pretty great stuff.

The regional competition will be held on Oct. 2, so I am excited to see what other things I can come up with  and maybe even win. Wouldn’t that be funny if I won all the way to Nationals? Then I could go to the White House and make up answers for President Obama. I would be the real Toastmaster then.

The day Dana and Aaron bought a stripper pole

September 12, 2010

I have a stripper pole in  the middle of my room. I bought it yesterday. Even after my mom told me no.

I did not wake up and say “I’m going to buy a pole today,” because I actually woke up at the crack of dawn and took the GMAT (to get into grad school.) So I think my reasoning was flawed the rest of the day since I used too many brain cells on the test.

Nonetheless, I have a stripper pole.

I have been going through this phase of really wanting to be a total bad ass; I have even decided I want to be a bartender when I’m old enough. So yesterday, Aaron and I were on our usual adventures, planning and getting supplies for his 18th birthday party, and we ended up at the mall. Then we ended up in Spencers. Then I ended up wanting to buy a stripper pole. In that order.

I decided I wanted one, so I called my mom to ask her what she thought. She said no. I told that she could use it too and it would be a great way to keep up out  new fitness obsession and spice up her marriage. She said no. I told her that I really, really wanted it and wouldn’t buy anything expensive for a while. She said no.

So I bought it.

I have this exact pole.

We took the pole to my house, where I got some glares from my mom, though my dad just seemed extremely amused.

My mom was like “You wanted to work at Disney! What do you need a stripper pole for?”

I told her that sometimes Minnie likes to get down and dirty.

She said she was not taking me to the hospital when I fell off and broke something  or caused the ceiling to cave in and then locked herself in her room to pray the rosary.

My dad set up the pole in the my room, which was exactly more complicated than what the outside of the box said, but my dad can pretty much figure out anything, so we were good.

Then Aaron and I took turns putting on shows and almost taking the pole down with us. We don’t have enough room to do like lateral spins, but otherwise we are fine. Although “to the window, to wall” has a whole new meaning when you are trying to catch a falling stripper pole.

I am leaving the pole up so that Aaron and I can practice. Diamond Club South, our local strip club, is hiring, so we need to get good fast. I want to be able to do this:

This is going to make an excellent chapter in our book.

mixed SIGNALS (or my Tina Fey moment)

September 9, 2010

I am writing a satire show with my friends at school (yes I have school friends) for media production. Our format resembles the Daily Show, but of course our content has to be somewhat school related.  It has been really fun thus far and even though my mom thinks I am too animated and it’s not very well done, I like it.

The green background is just temporary, and we want to add pictures in the corner, like real news shows, but this was kind of like our experimental first edition.

Enjoy.

When you wish

September 8, 2010

When you wish upon a star, makes no difference who you are. When you wish upon a star, your dreams do come true.

I have applied for the Disney college program. I am really excited because it would be this cool opportunity for me to go live pretty much in Disney World with some roomies (my age) and be a character performer (so like Daisy Duck in the parade, would that not be just perfect?)

The good news is I have applied and interviewed and been identified as a “strong candidate” for the program. The bad news is I still have to audition. These will be in Austin on Oct. 17.

So until then, I just have to keep wishing on all of the stars and sending bribes to Mickey.

Fag Hag

September 6, 2010

I used to think the term was derogatory and mean and got mad if anyone called me that, but  I have changed my mind.

My name is Dana and I am a fag hag.

The other day I had a drink (and by drink I mean coffee) with King A (gay), Corey (gay), and his friend Hawk (also gay, do you see a pattern yet?). It was the funniest experience because it was me, sitting at Starbucks, surrounded by these queer (in all sense of the word)friends of mine, getting some glares from other Starbucks patrons for being a bit too loud and extremely openly judgemental, and I realized that most other girls my age probably don’t have moments like this very often. But as Hawk said, there is no better reflection of yourself than three gays creating a mirror around you, which is so true you honestly have to be in that situation to realize it.

The great thing about gays, and why I chose them over anyone else, is that they don’t want anything from you; they don’t expect anything. As a heterosexual female, when I am friends with a straight guy there is always that awkward line between what makes me his  “girl friend” and what makes me his “girlfriend.” There is also the danger of either party crossing that fine, fine line between a lover and a friend at any time.

With other girl friends there is always an underlying sense of some kind of competition and the need for a lot of false caring. You have to worry about your friend looking better than you and then care about all her stupid problems and then let her borrow any clothes you own and such. Also girls are just mega bitchy (yes, I know gays can be too, but it usually passes quickly.) Girls hold grudges for ages and I just can’t handle all the baggage that comes with having  female friends. They require serious amounts of effort.

These feelings about straight guys and normal girls leave me to choose to either become a hermit or a fag hag, and I don’t like complete isolation, so really there is no choice.

One other reason I have started to endorse the term fag hag is because I read this terrific book, Girls Who Like Boys Who Like Boys, which is a compilation of essays and memoirs about girl-gay relationships. These stories were awesome and I could pretty much relate to all of them, especial one entitled “Donny and Marie Don’t Get Married,” which are King A’s and I alter egos. All of the stories in the book talked about how important these friendships were and not a single party involved ever regretted the friendship.

Being a fag hag is  not a bad thing, but rather a term of endearment and even love. The friendships I have/had with my gay friends  are definitely the best relationships I’ve ever had. I told King A that our friendship is seriously the friendship to ruin all relationships. I am even able to cite examples of this, such as one particular epiphany-filled moment during my brief, brief, demented relationship with an actual “boyfriend.” This beau told me that the way I talked about Aaron all the time made it sound like I would rather spend time with Aaron than him. Realizing just how true that statement was, I broke up with the boy almost immediately after.

Because of this King A and I have already pinky-promised (and we don’t f*&% around with pinky promises) to write our own book about just how monumental our friendship is, so look for our book in stores  around fall 2030.