Tag Archives: hardwick bait

I give you…signed panties.

Lots has happened in the last three days. So much that I might have to split it up into several posts. We’ll start with the main event.

On Saturday, my husband and I drove down to Austin (with a stopover in Stephenville) to see Chris Hardwick.

I went to Stephenville to get my hair dyed. My appointment was early, so we had to get up at 8:00 am. Yuck.

After hair dyings and lunch, we drove three hours to Austin. Now, at this point, I did not have a pair of panties for Chris Hardwick to sign, because I figured, where better to find some panties than Austin?

We got to Austin with 3 hours until the doors opened at Cap City Comedy. That’s three hours to track down some panties. Seems reasonable.

Okay, first, in my defense, since we were in Austin, I wanted to get some really cool panties. So we go down Guadalupe looking for…I don’t know, a big sign that said, “Cool Panties 4 Sale,” with a bunch of dirty hippies out front.

I’m confident that such a place exists in Austin. But it is not on Guadalupe.

So after coming up empty on Guadalupe, I figured we could stroll down 6th Street, because I know there are panties for sale there. Unfortunately, before we made it to the Panty District, we got drenched in sweat and nearly died of heat exhaustion.

So we headed back to the car, pantiless, with only about an hour left to get to the venue.

We spotted a strip mall on the way, popped in, and, after some deliberation over color, picked a pair of plain old regular panties.

(Okay, I said “we” there, but I was really the one deciding. Adam offered the very helpful opinion of “Whatever you want.”)

Then we went to the show, but there was a problem with our tickets. Adam had purchased them online on Tuesday and received a confirmation email, but we didn’t seem to be on any lists.

Turns out, he accidentally bought tickets for the wrong day because of the confusing nature of the internet. We were still able to get in, but we no longer had super special reserved seating.

It wasn’t that big a deal, because the venue wasn’t terribly huge, so most seats were good seats. However, during the show, Chris kept talking to this one guy Tucker, who had been chatted up by one of the opening acts. Tucker had reserved seats, right at the edge of the stage.

That could have been us! Damn internet.

There were 2 openers. The first guy was great, second guy not as great. Then Chris came out and he was awesome. And he came out to the bar after the show to take pictures with people.

I waited til the very end to approach him. And I’m sad to say that I was the only person who asked him to sign an undergarment.

He was super-nice and even claimed to remember commenting on my blog, which I appreciated very much.

And look! Panties!

That, by the way, is what pi would look like if rendered in pubic hair.

And note where he signed:

Lovely.

So, in summary, Yay me! I have panties signed by Chris Hardwick. Next on the panty-signing list is Louis C.K., who is coming to Fort Worth in November.

Who else will be bringing their panties to that show, I wonder.

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It’s two weeks til my birthday!

I’m going to see Scott Pilgrim vs. the World tonight. Excited!

Because I am a bit of a movie nerd (surprise!), I’ve been doing a little research on it, and, though I knew the co-writer/director Edgar Wright was involved in some of my favorite movies (Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz) – okay, involved is an understatement; he co-wrote and directed those movies as well – I did not know that he’s also REALLY HOT.

Hello, new celebrity crush.

***

Did you guys hear that? That was the sound of Chris Hardwick breathing a huge sigh of relief.

But I’ll still be asking him to sign my underwear. (A different pair of underwear from the ones Mitch Hedberg signed, for those who had an opinion on the matter.)

***

Am I the only one who, when I see a car accident on the way to the office, I think, “Well, at least they don’t have to go to work today”? And then I feel a little jealous?

I think it’s pretty safe to say that I have no grasp of real world consequences.

***

My latest mini-gift in the month-long birthday extravaganza: An almost-legal copy of Bloodbath at the House of Death. I see a movie party in my future. And the futures of several friends, whether they like it or not.

By the way, I still haven’t played DuckTales. Anyone have a working NES I could borrow?

***

On facebook, I “like” NPR and The Onion. But sometimes, when it’s early or I’m just not paying attention, I’ll read an NPR headline thinking it’s a headline from The Onion.

I spent a full minute this morning trying to figure out why “A Grandfather Dedicated to Easing Others’ Pain” is funny.

***

Guys, I still don’t have a picture of Johnny Five’s head. One day, I promise.

Maybe if I put the right cable in my purse the night before.

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Road Trip!

Oh my god, you guys. The universe loves me and wants me to be happy. Or, the universe is setting me up for a mighty fall.

Either way, Chris Hardwick is coming to Austin next weekend. And, as part of the birthday extravaganza, I’ll be going down to see him. Woo! (Anyone want to come along?)

So, of course, I’ll be asking him to sign my underwear.

And this brings me to my dilemma:

Should I pick out a new pair of underwear for him to sign, or should I have him sign the Mitch Hedberg underwear? Thoughts?

What about you, Chris Hardwick? Thoughts?

(Please note that any underwear handled by Chris Hardwick will be clean and not being worn by me at the time.)

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Big news today!

It’s Friday! I did it! I put up a new post every single day this week! (Sunday and Saturday don’t count.)

So now that I’ve used all my material, I don’t have anything to give you for random day. But when has that stopped me?*

So, here ya go. Random stuff:

***

The cd player in my office looks like the head of Johnny Five. It’s somewhat disconcerting, since his motto was “No disassemble.” Why can’t you people leave this peace-loving killer robot alone?

(I’d show you a picture, but I brought the wrong cable to work. Technology is hard.)

***

Speaking of zombies (which is what I was speaking of a couple days ago), here’s a list of interesting-sounding zombie movies from Nerdist.

Most of them sound pretty good. I’d very much like to see Cemetery Man.

Added to Netflix Q. Technology is easy.

***

So, there’s this movie that I saw when I was a kid called Bloodbath at the House of Death. It is virtually unfindable now.

If you find it, you must watch it. Trust me.

Don’t trust me?

Okay, it has the following exchange in it:

Guy: What the devil is that?
Chick: Sounds like a lot of monks exploding.

Yeah, now you want to see it, don’t you?

***

Okay, I’m running out of filler, so let’s get to the main event.

The scene I wrote is edited and ready for consumption!

Enjoy!

(Please.)

YAY!

***

*Answer: A few times. But not that much. I think I could safely say I was stopped by lack of content less than 35% of the time.

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The game that changed how we think about wealthy elderly ducks.

If you’re friends with me on facebook – which describes probably 97% of my blog-clicking audience – you already know that August is my birthday month.

Something you should know about me: in the decade-and-a-half that has passed since I turned twelve, I have not become any less obsessed with my own birthday.

Over the years, I’ve cooked up various schemes to make my birthday last as long as possible. I start making birthday-related announcements weeks beforehand. I have at least one, but often two or more, birthday parties. About ten years ago, I instituted a policy that my birthday lasts until the last piece of birthday cake has been eaten.

So, of course, yesterday I announced on facebook that my birthday is this month, and that I expect to be treated like it’s my birthday all month long.

Luckily, I’m married to an enabler.

Yesterday, he told me he’s planning on giving me small gifts all month long just in case we’re not financially solvent by the time my actual birthday arrives. And he gave me my first gift.

Ducktales, the Nintendo game.

This is one of my favorite games of all time. It’s so much fun. You play Scrooge McDuck, and your only weapon is his cane, which you can use like a golf club or like a pogo stick.

Behold!

(It should be noted that the guy playing the game in the video is not very good.)

Anyway, I’m so excited, but I can’t play it yet, because our NES is nonfunctional right now. Hmmm, I wonder what my next present will be.

You may look forward to more birthday obnoxiousness as the month wears on.

I’m tagging this as Hardwick bait. Because, why not? (Click that link for a mash up of the best movie of last year and the best movie so far this year.)

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Panties, panties, panties. Well, just the one pair actually.

So. Where were we?

Ah, yes. Mitch Hedberg.

I think I was in junior high when I fell in love with Mitch Hedberg. I saw him on Comedy Central (I think this was back when it was just called The Comedy Channel. Also, I was watching via the super old-school satellite dishes. The kind that take up a whole side of your yard, and you’d have to press the number of the satellite, and the dish would move and pass over other satellites, so you’d see glimpses of, like, Japanese cooking shows and the NASA channel, and in a few seconds, you’d be on the right satellite, and then you’d have to pick what channel you wanted on that satellite. I think The Comedy Channel was on satellite F4. That satellite had all the best channels.)

Anyway, the first few times I saw him, I came in late and missed his name. And this was before the days of the almighty guide button. So I just called him the beatnik comic. And I decided that someday he would be my mistress.

So, years went by. At some point I learned his name. And my love for him remained strong. Then, in college, I (finally) met a few people who knew and loved him almost as much as I did.

One day, word came through the internet that Mitch Hedberg was coming to DFW. Yay!

But also – I was quite poor. I couldn’t afford a ticket, so I couldn’t go to the show. Boo.

But I decided I still needed to seize this opportunity. One of my friends was going, and so I sent a pair of my underwear along with him for Mitch Hedberg to sign. (A friend of mine also sent her underwear. Her name is [REDACTED].)

Now, my friend who was going to the show was named Charles (pronounced CHAR’ less*). Charles and I had been like siblings from the start. We even called each other brother and sister (whichever was gender-appropriate, depending on who was speaking). My friend, [REDACTED], also referred to Charles as her brother. This is important to the story.

So Charles goes to the comedy show, and afterward, knowing that an unspeakable penalty awaits him if he comes back with unsigned panties**, hurries around the back of the club to catch Mitch Hedberg before he leaves. And he’s just in time – Mitch and his entourage, including a woman whose name I can only assume is Lynn with two Ns, are almost at the getaway car.

Charles shouts, “Mister Hedberg!”

They turn to look.

“Could I get your autograph?”

They give some kind of affirmative response. Charles goes up to Mitch Hedberg, and hands him…two pairs of panties.

They all look at him. They look at the panties. At him again.

Charles is a strapping young man, but these panties just don’t look like they would fit him.

Charles says, “It’s okay, they’re not mine. They’re my sisters’.”

Now they look even more confused.

Lynn-with-two-Ns protests. “Ew. Don’t sign those. You don’t know where they’ve been.”

Mitch Hedberg bravely takes the panties and says, “I never signed panties before.”

And then he signed them. Mine and [REDACTED]’s. With his actual hand.

And here’s the proof, modeled by my couch pillow:

Hell, yay-yeah! Mitch Mothafuckin Hedberg!

When choosing which panties you want signed by a celebrity, it is imperative that you pick something cute.

See? Spiders are adorable.

Also, apparently Mitch Hedberg kept the cap to Charles’s sharpie. I’ve never heard the end of that. A perfectly good sharpie gone to waste, all so I could have my panties signed.

Yeah, I hear you Charles. What a goddamn tragedy.

*I can’t figure out how to make a schwa. Just pretend that E is a schwa.
**I don’t know what. But I’m creative, I could’ve figured something out. I think I gave him some sort of vague threat involving his balls.

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You can thank me later. Or right now. It’s whatever.

I’m just stopping by for a quick post today, but I had to get this out into the world right away.

I know I’m late to the game on this, but I just want to make sure you’re all watching Louie on FX. I’ve been DVRing it and I finally watched the first two episodes last night.

Oh my god.

You need to be watching this show.

Watch this scene and tell me where else on television you’d see a scene like it.

Louie is like Men of a Certain Age‘s weird cousin.

Oh, you should also be watching Men of a Certain Age.

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