from Portland, ME

  • Activity

    • Adventures of an Ice Cream Overeater

      10 years ago


      A friend and I recently decided to go out on a Girl Date together, which ended with getting ice cream (which, believe it or not, is how most of my days end lately). We showed up at Cold Stone Creamery and there were two young men working. We’ll call them Smiley Guy and Short Guy:

      Me: “You guys have cheesecake? SWEET. Can I get cheesecake ice cream with . . .â€Â
      Short Guy: “Graham cracker crust and strawberries.â€Â
      Me: *pause* “No.â€Â
      Short Guy: “You have to have graham cracker crust and strawberries.â€Â
      Me: “No. Nope, I don’t. I want, I don’t know, a brownie, some cherry pie filling, and some hot fudge sauce mixed in.â€Â
      Short Guy: “Uhhhhh, no. Nobody gets that, everybody gets graham cracker crush and strawberries.â€Â
      Me: “I’m an ice cream eating champ, okay? I know what I want.â€Â
      *Short Guy starts reaching for the graham cracker crust.
      Short Guy: “No, seriously, though. Nobody gets that. You’re wrong. That’s not the right mix-in for cheesecake ice cream.â€Â
      My Friend: “Did you just tell her she was wrong about ice cream? Ohhhhhh, wrong move, dude.â€Â
      Me: “Listen, young man, I DO NOT WANT graham cracker crust and strawberries.â€Â
      *Short Guy hesitates with graham cracker crust, before slowly moving to the brownie’s instead.*
      My Friend: “Would you put bacon in the ice cream if I asked for it?â€Â
      Smiley Guy: “We have. We tried putting in donuts once. We tried putting in an Egg McMuffin.â€Â
      Me: “How’d that work out for ya?â€Â
      Smiley Guy: “It was tasty, it was just really disgusting to make. And to look at it. But tasty.â€Â

      A few minutes later, the young man with blonde hair who I had met during The Ice Cream Bender came out of the back room. We’ll call him Blonde Guy. How’s that for creativity?

      Blonde Guy: “I don’t feel like working. You know what I feel like doing? I feel like sampling every single flavor. Yeah, that’s what I’m gonna do.†*he grabs a spoon*
      Me: *yelling from across the room* “Hey dude, you still eating cheesey/bacon/potato burritos from Taco Bell?â€Â
      Blonde Guy: *drops spoon guiltily and looks over at us confused* “Uhhhh, no. Oh, wait! YOU’RE THE ICE CREAM GIRL!!!! DUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDE, I am SOOOOO eating those burritos. Every day since the last time I saw you! How’s the video?! AM I IN IT?! Don’t watch what we’re about to do!â€Â
      *Blonde Guy gets his spoon and begins to take large bites of every flavor in the ice cream display case. Meanwhile, Smiley Guy and Short Guy gather up some ice cream into a ball, and using their mix-in paddles begin to play baseball*
      Me: “They’re all stoned."
      My friend: “If you were a young teenage man working at an ice cream place with a Taco Bell next door and no supervisors around, you’d be stoned, too.â€Â
      *a few minutes later Smiley Guy brings us over large cups of strawberry-banana smoothies.*
      Smiley Guy: “So, uh, don’t tell anyone about, um, anything. Like the fact that we were playing . . .â€Â
      Me: “Like the fact you were doing what? We saw nothing.â€Â
      *I winked, Smiley Guy swooned, my friend laughed.*
      Me: “People think I make this shit up.â€Â
    • How I Scored Free Ice Cream, Adventure 1

      10 years ago


      There's a place in Maine called Old Orchard Beach. It's a tourist trap for French-Canadians from Quebec to come down, wear their speedos and their socks up to their knees, and gorge themselves on pier fries, pizza, and deep fried Oreos on a long stretch of sandy beach. There are overpriced boutiques, fireworks every Thursday night, and a 700 foot pier that extends into the great Atlantic.

      And there are bars.

      Lots and lots of bars.

      So, naturally, as a beer model, we spend a large part of our summer in this area of Maine.

      There are several bars we work at, for example there's one where the short angry greek man running the place doesn't trust us to do our job right; one where the lesbian owner (we think she's a lesbian - she winks at me everytime someone's not looking) feeds us our weight in french fries and chicken fingers.

      Tonight, after an especially exhausting night of dealing with other promo girls (the lazy Three Olive Girls showed up and spent most of their time huddled in a corner moaning about how difficult their precious little lives are), my business partner and I (in our uber skanky Monster Outfits [fishnets, hooker heels, and polo shirts that we "altered" so that massive amounts of cleavage were showing) decided to grab an ice cream.

      As we were walking from the pier back to the car, we passed several pizza joints that were still open and schlepping their cardboard-stale pizza to dumb teenagers who had nothing better to do (fast forward this situation three hours, and these pizza places would be hocking their pizza to drunks), but we noticed all the ice cream places were closed.

      I spotted a giant neon sign of an ice cream cone and made a bee-line for it. The lights were dim, the counter had been pushed to block the entrance, and there were two exhausted looking twenty-somethings standing behind a counter.

      When I realized they were closed, I began pouting.

      Guy One: "You want ice cream?"
      Me: "Yes! PLEASE! Do you take Visa?"
      Guy One: "$10 limit."
      Me: *more pouting* "There's no way we can eat $10 of ice cream right now."
      Guy One: "Aww, c'mon. You look like you're ladies who know how to handle your ice cream."
      Me: *laughing* (if he only knew)
      Guy Two: "Wait, are you The Monster Girls?! That shit's my favorite. Got any schwag?"
      My partner: *pulls out shirt* "What's in it for us?"
      Guy One: "A fucking hug. What do you think?"
      My partner: *tosses them the shirt*
      Guy One: "Alright, we'll make it a $5 limit for you."
      Guy Two: "Aaah, dude, just give 'em ice cream for free."
      Guy One: "Are you the owner, or am I?"
      Guy Two: "Giiiiiiiive it to 'em. C'mon."
      Guy One: "If it was your business you wouldn't be saying that."
      Guy Two: "Yes, I would be, 'cause they're hot."
      (digression: thank heavens for fishnets and hooker heels)
      Guy One: *looks at us* "Fuck it. I'll give you each a small for free. And it's only 'cause I'm too fucking lazy to swipe your card . . ."
      Guy Two: ". . . and because I said something."
      Guy One: "Just tell your friends about us, and we'll call it good, alright?"

      Alright, Mr. Guy One . . .
      Attention Friends!: Should you ever find yourself in OOB, Maine and you happen to come across a rather sketchy ice cream place with a giant glowing neon ice cream cone sign, stop in and say hello to the two guys most likely not working very hard.

      And so, another adventure in which I scored free ice cream.

    • The Vet's

      10 years ago


      Stuff I couldn't make up if I tried:

      Went to the vet yesterday, because my rabbit hurt his paw. The vet walks in and he's a gorgeous blonde haired, blue eyed twenty-something. I start acting like a bumbling idiot (no shocker there).

      We get Boone out of his cage, and he comes flying over to me, puts his paws on my chest, looks over his shoulder at the vet (I kid you not), and then pulls my tank top all the way down.

      Hello, Steff's black bra!!!

      And so, I flashed the vet.

      While Boone is doing this, he's also pooping. So, bumbling, slightly embarassed me, apologizes.

      The vet says, "That's okay I've seen worse."

      . . . . .

      Was he talking about my boobs or the poop?

      Thanks, rabbit, for helping me really establish my bachelerottedom permanently.

    • The Doctor's

      10 years ago


      Apparently, the doctor's office that I go to hires only really attractive, married, young doctors. For example, my doctor is sexy. He was out today. I got a different doctor. Also sexy.

      It's hard for me to be serious and focused on being sick when sexy doctors are touching me.

      Doctor: "Profession . . . beer model. Beer model? You're a beer model?"
      Me: "Yeah. A beer model."
      Doctor: "That's amazing. What's a beer model?"
      Me: "We're pretty girls who go to bars and stuff and make people drink."
      Doctor: "That's the coolest profession I've ever heard of. Are you Irish?"
      Me: "Yeah. Kind of."
      Doctor: "Your last name is French. You look Irish."
      Me: "75% French, 25% Irish. Only kid with the Irish good looks."
      Doctor: "Yeah, freckles. Fair skin. Nice."
      Doctor: "It sounds like you're breathing through a snorkel. Want some codine?"
      Me: "Not gonna say no to codine."
      Doctor: "Nice, and some zythromax, too?"
      Me: "Yeah, right on."
      Doctor: "Also, to help the laryngitis, no talking or eating anything dairy for the next 48 hours."
      Me: *giant pause*
      Doctor: "You okay?"
      Me: "You mean like no milk?"
      Doctor: "No milk, no yogurt, no pudding, no cheese, no ice cream, nothing. No dairy. Like . . . you're like . . . you're like a vegan beer model on codine. That's kind of fun, hunh?"
      Me: "That's not really gonna wor . . ."
      Doctor: "Also, stop talking."
      Me: *glaring*
      Doctor: "Right, so here's your prescriptions, and if you want you can take the back exit so that adoring fans don't rush up on you for autographs."

      I couldn't make this up if I tried.

    • The Cincinnati Episode

      11 years ago


      So, I get into my car to find a text message from a number I don't know. Thinking it's one of you, or someone I've met on the job as a beer model, I answer it. The following text conversation is verbatim, and totally, awfully, true:

      513-615-8876: Hey steff.
      Steff: Hey there.
      513-615-8876: How are you steff?
      Steff: Alive. You?
      513-615-8876: Same. this is weird i saw your numb in the mens room in cincinnati. im a fed ex driver. how old are you and where you at?
      Steff: Thats not funny.
      513-615-8876: It's true mam. i wanted to let you know im 27. you?
      Steff: Who is this?
      513-615-8876: Im rick. i dont know how your numb got there. i dont know you. i have no reason to lie to you.
      Steff: Why would you text a number you saw on the wall of a bathroom?
      513-615-8876: I thought you shold know. you may be a nice lady.
      Steff: What was written on the wall about me, Rick?
      513-615-8876: It said "for a great time call" your num and ask for Steff. where is your area code from?
      Steff: Canada.
      513-615-8876: Do you know anyone who drives a truck?
      Steff: I know people who drive trucks. I don't know any commercial truck drivers.
      513-615-8876: Ok. I'm 27 how bout you?
      Steff: 17
      513-615-8876: Did you want me to leave you alone?
      Steff: I think this is relatively creepy.
      513-615-8876: OK. Im not a crazy guy i swear. you really 17?
      Steff: I am 17. That's hawt, hunh?!
      513-615-8876: Its sexy. you cant be single.
      Steff: I weigh 200 lbs.
      513-615-8876: Sexy. i love thick women. what you doing tonite?
      Steff: Working.
      513-615-8876: Ok. cool. text me or call anytime.
      Steff: Kewl!!!
      513-615-8876: So you single and a virgin?
      Steff: Yep!!!
      513-615-8876: You have never been touched by a guy.
      Steff: No, I'm as pure as the first snowfall.
      513-615-8876: Ya right. how old are you really and you arent single.
      Steff: Dude, I'm 23 and a model, what do you want?
      513-615-8876: Oh. Nevermind.

      Now some notes:
      - Is it wrong that I hope that this isn't a hoax, and that my number really is on the wall of the bathroom of some place in Cincinnati. How many more fun texts and calls do I have to look foward too?
      - Anyone else notice how when I was an obese teenage virgin the guy was all into me, but the moment I said I was a twenty-something model he instantly lost his interest?

    • Conversations with Mike

      11 years ago


      I couldn't possibly make up the following conversation with my dad, Mike.

      Dad: If you could be anything at the beach what would you be?
      Me: I don't kn . . .
      Dad: *interrupting* Cause I'd be a clam cake.
      Me: You'd be a clam cake?
      Dad: Yeah. 'Cause I'd like to eat myself.
      Me: If you were a clam cake, you'd smell really bad.
      Dad: No, 'cause I'd wash in fresh water with Irish Spring soap.
      Me: What?
      Dad: Yeah, I'd scrub off all the brown stuff on me.
      Me: You mean, like, the deep fried coating part?
      Dad: Yeah.
      Me: And then you'd be a big gommy pile of crab cake meat.
      Dad: A commy? C'mon, I wouldn't be a communist crab cake. There's no socialism happening in the crab cake world. That's just silly.
      Me: GOMMY, Dad. Mushy? Ya know?
      Dad: Oh, right.
      Dad: Can you imagine how difficult it would be to actually shower as a crab cake?
      Me: What?
      Dad: Yeah, 'cause I'd be shaped like one of those MnM's you see in the commercial, but I was just thinking how difficult it would be to wash my back in the shower. As a clam cake, of course.
      Dad: I would go up to people and tell them to take a bite out of me.
      Me: But you'd eventually cease to exist.
      Dad: I wouldn't cease to exist.
      Me: Yes. You would. If you were a crab cake and you walked up to people and said, 'Hey, please take a bite of me,' eventually someone would have to take the last bite - and you would cease to exist.
      Dad: That's okay.
      Me: Why?
      Dad: 'Cause I would be reincarnated as a chicken nugget.
      *later - outside at the car*
      Me: What're you doing?
      Dad: *writing on his dirty car with his finger: 'I brake for tartar sauce'*
    • "Peripheral vision is what it is."

      11 years ago

      "[L]ove will never die. Once you know somebody, you can never unknow that person. And knowing is loving. So you can never get out of love. There might be misunderstandings and seperating for other reasons, but love is always there. Staying together is just one form of love. Maybe that's a strong love and expression of love. But love is a soul thing. It always stays there. I don't think people should be insecure about falling out of love. If they're not afraid of love, then they're always going to love. Everybody's got love and that's why they want to know how to make love last and all that. Everybody's really concerned about love. It's the biggest issue.

      Love makes everything work.

      It makes everything grow."

      ~ Yoko Ono
    • Conversations with Mike

      11 years ago


      My Step-Mom hadn’t done groceries in three months. She went to Walmart to do them, and spent roughly $340. My dad was upset, because apparently he told her not purchase anything that wasn’t food. She bought pens and blinds, and this upset him so greatly he decided to go through every single item individually on the receipt to see what else she bought.

      Now, have you ever looked at a Walmart receipt? They abbreviate everything.

      The following conversation is real:

      Dad: Angel food cake? Did you need that? What else . . . jivvy priddy rods? What the hell is a jivvy priddy rod?
      Step-Mom: Great Value Pretzel Rrods.
      Dad: Chickeye sticks?!
      Step-Mom: Chuck eye steak.
      Dad: What the hell is Jivvy Med Nettle?
      *My step-mom takes the receipt*
      Step-Mom: Great Value Medium Egg Noodles.
      Dad: Bly Narns Marn Chops?
      Step-Mom: Boneless Pork Chops
      Dad: Swissinn Chickenbrits?
      Step-Mom: Swanson Chicken Broth.
      Dad: Why do they call it that? Why can’t they just call it what it is? What the hell else did you buy? This Walmart Receipt Language sucks. Who hell is the guy in the office writing this? I wanna meet him. Oh, yeah, but look â€" one day, he couldn’t come up with some smarmy word, so he called it what it was. ‘It’s Monday, I’m fucking tired. Haddock is . . . haddock. Fuck.’â€Â
      *Step Mom starts bagging up stuff for me â€" bread, tea, apples*
      Dad: Anything else? First-born? Cat? Bench grinder?
      Step-Mom: Do you want some biscuits? We bought these biscuits, but your dad hates them.
      Dad: I love them!
      Step-Mom: As of when?
      Dad: As of now!!!
      *Dad grabs the biscuits*
      Dad: JboFlakBlaFlavBict.
      Step-Mom: What?
      Dad: That’s Walmart Language for Jumbo Flaky Butter Flavor Biscuits. Nevermind, you wouldn’t understand.
    • The Canadian Border Patrol

      11 years ago

      Border Patrol: Who does this child belong to?
      Dad: Uh . . . me.
      Border Patrol: Oh?
      Dad: Yeah - see how the last names are the same?
      Border Patrol: Where is the mother?
      Dad: What?
      Border Patrol: Where is the mother of this child?
      Dad: Uh, I don't know. Back at home.
      Border Patrol: Sir, where. . .is . . . the . . . mother . . . of this child?
      Border Patrol: *taking a step back* SIR, IT IS ILLEGAL TO TRANSPORT CHILDREN . . .
      Step Mom: SHE'S 23 YEARS OLD!!!
      Border Patrol: *looks at passport. looks at me*
      Me: Hi.
      Border Patrol: *looks at me. looks at passport.*
      Me: 1984, dude, it's right there on the passport.
      Border Patrol: *hands i.d.'s back and let's us leave without looking at us*

      They totally thought my dad was abducting me out of the country.

    • Jeff Buckley's Music

      in Forums > Jeff Buckley's Music | Follow this topic


      As far as I know, there's no Jeff Buckley thread. There's alot of people in this community who I've had chats with about this incredible musician and his haunting voice, disturbingly accurate lyrics, and chilling guitar riffs. So, here we are . . .

      Send whips of opinion down my back, give me more . . .

      28 replies

  • Comments (1244)

  • Questions

    No questions have been answered yet