Tag Archives: Mitch Hedberg signed my underwear

One week til my birthday!

This morning all my properly-fitting pants were dirty, so, rather than going pantsless, I’m wearing a pair of less-properly-fitting pants.

Then, in a stroke of genius, instead of using the pants buttons god gave me, I used a paper clip to join the inner and outer buttonholes, bestowing my pants with just the right amount of give.

Of course, I discovered the Achilles heel in this solution when I went to the bathroom and had to negotiate removing a paper clip from two buttonholes while also doing the pee pee dance.

I was able to accomplish this with minimal injury. So, victory!

***

I must confess, I just don’t have a lot to tell you on this random friday. My mind is pretty much living in tomorrow. Hair will be dyed, panties will be signed. Oil will be changed. And we’ll probably grab something to eat at some point too.

***

I’m starting this new thing. You’re all familiar with the witty (or “witty”) comeback that consists of inserting “your face” into whatever insult was just thrown at you, yes? (i.e. “Your face is a stupid whore that slept with my boyfriend in the backseat of my car.”)

Well, I’m starting a new thing where I use the “your face” comeback for compliments and neutral statements as well.

“Your face looks nice today.”

“Your face was great in that play.”

“Your face is hungry.”

***

I want to see this movie:

I love Mila Kunis. And Natalie Portman, of course. But seriously. Mila Kunis.

***

Also this one:

I’m a sucker for alien invasion movies.

No pun intended?

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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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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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Two confessions, two apologies.

I had so many plans for posts this week, blog-clickers. Seriously, you would’ve had something new and fabulous to read every day. But somehow, I never got around to any of it. And I think I know why.

I need to confess something: I sort of miss my tiny apartment. Only sort of. And only in specific situations. But this happens to be one of them.

See, in my old apartment, the computer was in the living room, just a few feet away from the couch. So my husband and I would spend a lot of afternoons with one of us watching tv or playing a video game, and the other would be on the internet…or playing a video game. What?

But now, the computer is in a whole separate room. Which means that computer time = alone time. Not only that, but I’m extremely jumpy, and if I’m by myself for any length of time, I get really absorbed in my own thoughts. So when I’m having computer/alone time, and my husband walks in, I react like it’s Michael Myers. (Not Mike Myers. Well, not 90s Mike Myers.) Which is to say, I jump about nine feet in the air and accuse my husband of sneaking up on me while spewing profanities. (To be clear, I’m the one spewing profanities. I’m not accusing him of sneaking up on me while spewing profanities. That would make it much harder to sneak up on someone.)

All of this means that computer time = alone time = having the proverbial shit scared out of me. (It’s only proverbial shit, people. Don’t get any ideas.)

So anyway. Sorry.

***

One of the posts I’m planning is the story of Mitch Hedberg signing my underwear. I even took pictures of the underwear. (Not on me. Worry not, Dad.)

So that will be my first post with pictures. I’m a little nervous, I’m not gonna lie. Will I conquer this technical challenge? Stay tuned.

*cue organ music*

***

Nerds vs. Bigots.

Why does Fred Phelps even care about Comic Con? Have colleges stopped putting on productions of The Laramie Project?

(I have another confession: I don’t like The Laramie Project. It’s right up my alley, I should really love it, I know. But it’s kind of boring to me. I just don’t generally like plays where all the cast members play several different characters without ever changing costume. It makes me think, “Did I accidentally go to an acting workshop instead of a play?”)

(Is that mean? Sorry again.)

Anyway, I particularly love the guy in the Bender costume with the “KILL ALL HUMANS” sign. Yay Bender!

***

So, I was reviewing my tag cloud, and I realized I have only one post in which I mention books. Yeesh. Ten-year-old me would be so ashamed of 26*-year-old me. I need to do some readin’.

Right now, I’m wanting to read Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, which I haven’t yet read for some reason. Anyone have a copy I could borrow?

***

An update from the car situation: the Acura is dead. Boo.

So now we have to buy a new car.

I’ve never actually bought a car. It sucks so far. Salesmen are annoying. Now I understand the stereotype.

***

Let’s see, I feel like I should have another confession, to make it three.

Hmmmm.

Okay. I love Tears For Fears. They’re splendid. Every time I hear any of their songs, I think of the end of Real Genius, with the popcorn exploding out the windows of Dr. Hathaway’s house. And that movie is transcendent, so why wouldn’t I feel good about a band that reminds me of it?

You know what? I take it back. This isn’t a confession, because there’s no reason for me to be ashamed of my love of Tears For Fears.

*Last year, my birthday sucked so bad that I decided it didn’t merit getting older. So I skipped that year, and now I’m still 26.

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If I were Chris Hardwick, I’d click this link.

So, if you haven’t visited the site in a while, where the hell have you been? I’ve been worried sick.

Anyway, you missed a lot.

Most notably, Chris Hardwick visited my site (please note my measured, articulate response). Yeah, I’m pretty fucking impossible to live with right now.

Whereas most sane people would see the culmination of their internet campaigns as a victory and just move on, I’m going to keep plugging away.

What does that mean exactly? I’m not really sure.

For now, all it means is that I’m going to continue to (try to) lure Chris Hardwick over here until he’s a semi-regular commenter.

So, for you, Chris Hardwick, I’ve added a tag called Hardwick Bait. I promise not to tag every single post as Hardwick bait. Just stuff I think you might be interested in. And by the way, if you’re searching for a term to describe me to the authorities, I prefer “nerdist enthusiast” over “blog stalker.”

In other news, I went to my very first filming of a scene I wrote today. I was the sound guy. Or, more accurately, the pole holder. But it did open up the opportunity for a nice vaudevillian joke –  “I’ve been holding a boom for two hours and boy are my arms tired.”

Anyway, once the scene is cut together, I’ll be posting it here, of course. I couldn’t keep my real writing from my twelve loyal blog readers (Thirteen if you count Chris Hardwick. (At least. (Yes, this is a parenthetical inside a parenthetical inside a parenthetical. (I’m probably doing this because I went to see Inception last night. (It involves dreams-within-dreams. (It was really good. (What was I talking about?))))))).

As my friend Bethany said, it looks like the universe felt it owed me for the crappy week it gave me. Yes, I will be telling you that story at some point.

Also, you should all click on those Chris Hardwick links. They’re mostly to the Nerdist Podcasts, and there’s nary a person I wouldn’t ask to sign my underwear.

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I also saw that time you kicked a dog. And I’m telling.

Years ago, I discovered Joyas Jewelry. I can’t remember how I discovered it, which is a shame because I’d like to have someone to thank. I am in love with this site.

And it’s not the jewelry. Don’t get me wrong – there’s a lot of beautiful jewelry there. But her descriptions are wonderful.

Here’s a sample description, for a necklace called “Bond, Jane Bond”:

I said shaken, not stirred bitch.

That’s the whole description.

Another example, for a necklace called “Canadian Excitement”:

I get really excited to learn about talented Canadian actors…my newest favourite is Michael Cera. He’s the reason I started watching Arrested Development. Although since starting to watch it I’ve redeveloped a crush on Jason Bateman – the original crush was from Teen Wolf Too and the Hogan Family.

Do you see how I have no choice but to love her? Not only does she love Jason Bateman, but she spells favorite with a U. Ahh, Canadians.

***

I’m trying to use the word “awesome” less. Some alternatives I’m trying out: magnificent, wonderful, lovely, glorious and transcendent.

I believe my over-use of awesome started when I netflixed all the seasons of How I Met Your Mother. I should be angry at Neil Patrick Harris. But, let’s be serious. Is that even possible?

***

When I went shopping last weekend, I bought a dandelion cardigan. I’m theme dressing. And the theme is “Weeds and Blogging.” I should just go ahead and buy forty cats and start chasing the neighborhood kids away with a broom.

***

I have a long-standing obsession with dandelions, which you may have already guessed. (They’re the only flower you can wish on. Wishes, people!) I’ve been thinking about getting a dandelion tattoo for years. I just don’t have any room in my budget for body art. Time to start a savings account I guess.

***

One of the tools this blogging site gives me is the power to see my referrals, which is where you blog-clickers all come from. Since nobody ever links to my site, the referrals are usually from facebook. But any time I link to other blogs, their blog posts a trackback to my site, so I sometimes get a sort of self-referral from another site.

One such site is Nerdist.com, which, you’ll recall, is Chris Hardwick’s site. I have this sort of blind hope that it’s actually Chris who clicked on the trackback and saw my blog. And if so, I have this to say to you, Chris:

I’m sorry I called you the poor man’s Joel McHale. I was just trying to be funny. Please don’t be mad at me. And also, would you sign my underwear?

***

Speaking of Nerdist, and vain attempts to get Chris Hardwick to click on my trackback (again), you should go watch this video of wall animation. It’s animated graffiti, and it’s transcendent.

***

Since wordpress shows me referrals, but I don’t actually get referrals, what I’m actually seeing a lot of the time is whatever site someone happened to be on before they came to my site.

But don’t let that stop you from visiting those sex sites before you read my blog.

Don’t worry, I can’t see who you are. But I have some guesses.

***

By the way, I know I called dandelions weeds up there. But don’t you call them that. It’s okay when I do it, because dandelions are like family to me. You can insult your own family. Right, Mom and Dad?

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