Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Keegan Finch-- True Story.
This is a good one. It's a personal e-mail sent to me by my college sorority sister Keegan about a mess she got herself into one evening after work. Read and enjoy, this is classic.
ok, so here goes..... this happened to me yesterday evening....I was driving home from work yesterday, minding my own business, jammin out to the twilight cd. 5 o'clock in new york, on the thruway, you're bound to hit some traffic. Red lights ahead, i start slowing down. I am at a complete stop, with about a cars length of space between me, and the brandy new BMW in front of me. Out of habit from my many many previous accidents, I always check my rear view mirror, to make sure the idiot in back of me is aware that I am stopped. Long story short, I hear the screeching brakes, followed by a smash.Now keep in mind, my last accident, where I smashed into someone, my insurance agency told me that if they didn't drop my mother and I from their policy this time, all it would take was another ticket, or accident or even a call to them to have them drop us for good. (Not to mention I pay $510 A MONTH for insurance right now.)Before I even get out of the car to survey the damage, I calmly call the State Troopers, (who I now know by name) to report a minor accident, and have someone come meet us to do the accident report.I then descend from the vehicle.As i walk around to the back of the car, I am delighted to see that the bumper is not hanging off, nor smashed in! There is merely a white scratch that looks like it may be able to be buffed out by a talented mechanic. I hear the sound of a creaky door opening behind me. I turn around, fully ready to greet some good American blue collar citizen. How about a "Joe McGinnis" or a "Tony Maltisanto." Even a "Jeremiah Goldstein" would do, but to my surprise, I see Tito, Juan, Carlos, Javier, Paco, Raul, Esteban, Marco, Silvio, y Filipo climb out of the car, none standing over 5 feet tall.None speaking english.I hear "Senora, Senora!!!! Habla con mi hermano, El Habla Ingles!!!" I'm guessing I am about to talk to Javier's brother, Ricardo, So i take the phone from the little man, and start listening."Senora, PLEASE don't call the cops, I beg you!!!!!" so i told him, "are you asking me not to call the cops, because you are all illegal immigrants, and have no license or insurance???""No, no chica, we have all that i promise. But we pay you cash!! however much you want to not call the cops!!"I think about this. It is probably no more than 100$ to buff this scratch out, but I play it up."Listen Ricardo, I already called the cops. Let me call my mechanic, and find out how much a new bumper costs for a mercedes, and I'll have Jav call you back."I get in my car, close the door, and call my mechanic. ( Who has recently been indicted for insurance fraud…..)He tells me to get $600 from them, because I will need a new bumper, and they cost $500 for mercedes. So, I get back outta the car, Call Ricardo from Jav's phone, and tell him i need 600 pronto, or I have the troopers deport them all. They agree, and tell me that I have to follow them up to their home in newburgh to collect my money.I am standing on the side of the road at this point, listening to honking,a nd swearing for being the cause of this traffic jam. I also forgot to mention that the wind was blowing viciously hard, and my skirt wound up around my head a few times, exposing myself to approximately 6,000 eager motorists. I was wearing a thong.Now, If you know newburgh (home sweet home) you know that there is probably a gang shooting, or slashing every 4 hours. I am NOT about to drive in my work skirt and low cut shirt, and loreal dyed hair, and go through this ghetto with a bunch of mexicans who are "giving me 600$" yeah right.at this point, the cop shows up. The mexicans start sweating. I can smell their fear. (It smelled like onions.)The officer (who's shift ends in 20 minutes, and REALLY doesn't want to have to go through the paper work of deporting aliens, and car accidents, and lack of licenses or insurance, or manners for that fact) tells me, "look, theres really no damage, are you sure you want to go through your insurance??" Well judging on my current insurance situation, I think we all agree it's smart to keep Cindy at Dewitt Insurance out of the loop.I glance over at the seven dwarfs, who are anxiously shaking their heads no, pleading. My heart grew four sizes, and I said "ya know what officer? I don't think I would like to report this."The officer leaves, and I stalk over to Javier's window and shouted at him"YOU GET TO STAY IN AMERICA, THEREFORE I GET MY $600! I AM FOLLOWING YOU!"White van full of illegal's pulls out with flashers on, I follow suit. We continue on this drive for 45 miles north, doing 40 mph. flashers on. At this point, I have woken brendan up, and told him- "bring your gun- bring your badge, get in your car NOW and meet me at the Newburgh exit!"he catches up to me (not hard to do) somewhere on the NYS Thruway. During the drive, I am laughing so uncontrollably hard, when I realized that this sort of stuff would ONLY happen to me, and happen often. I call Carly, who offers ZERO emotional support, because she too, is laughing incontrollably. She conferences Vicki in, who is brought to tears as well. We get off the exit, and follow them into a gas station parking lot, where the whole Martinez, Diaz, Sanchez and Sandoval families are waiting (all crammed into one van.)I get out of the car, as well as ricardo (Javier's bro). He surveys the damage, and says to me "I will give you $100, not a penny more. There is not a lot of damage. It shouldn't cost you much." At this point, I am spitting fire. I said, and I quote:"You little mother f'er. I have the troopers phone number, and I will call him so fast and have you fucking deported if you dont give me my 600$ so help me god. You want to mess with me? i will call your "insurance" agency and see what they have to say."They laugh. Fortunately "hahaha" is universal, and I had no problem translating.Brendan, who heard everything steps out of the car, gun in holster, badge in hand. He says:"Spring Valley Police. Stay where you are. Get out your licenses."They start freaking out. He says "Exactly what I thought, you don't have any. I deal with illegal immigrants everyday, and have them deported every day. You like America? Give the woman her $600. NOW."Ricardo digs into his wallet, and pulls out 6 $100 dollar bills. I accept it, and drive away. just a day in the life.
-Keegan Finch
ok, so here goes..... this happened to me yesterday evening....I was driving home from work yesterday, minding my own business, jammin out to the twilight cd. 5 o'clock in new york, on the thruway, you're bound to hit some traffic. Red lights ahead, i start slowing down. I am at a complete stop, with about a cars length of space between me, and the brandy new BMW in front of me. Out of habit from my many many previous accidents, I always check my rear view mirror, to make sure the idiot in back of me is aware that I am stopped. Long story short, I hear the screeching brakes, followed by a smash.Now keep in mind, my last accident, where I smashed into someone, my insurance agency told me that if they didn't drop my mother and I from their policy this time, all it would take was another ticket, or accident or even a call to them to have them drop us for good. (Not to mention I pay $510 A MONTH for insurance right now.)Before I even get out of the car to survey the damage, I calmly call the State Troopers, (who I now know by name) to report a minor accident, and have someone come meet us to do the accident report.I then descend from the vehicle.As i walk around to the back of the car, I am delighted to see that the bumper is not hanging off, nor smashed in! There is merely a white scratch that looks like it may be able to be buffed out by a talented mechanic. I hear the sound of a creaky door opening behind me. I turn around, fully ready to greet some good American blue collar citizen. How about a "Joe McGinnis" or a "Tony Maltisanto." Even a "Jeremiah Goldstein" would do, but to my surprise, I see Tito, Juan, Carlos, Javier, Paco, Raul, Esteban, Marco, Silvio, y Filipo climb out of the car, none standing over 5 feet tall.None speaking english.I hear "Senora, Senora!!!! Habla con mi hermano, El Habla Ingles!!!" I'm guessing I am about to talk to Javier's brother, Ricardo, So i take the phone from the little man, and start listening."Senora, PLEASE don't call the cops, I beg you!!!!!" so i told him, "are you asking me not to call the cops, because you are all illegal immigrants, and have no license or insurance???""No, no chica, we have all that i promise. But we pay you cash!! however much you want to not call the cops!!"I think about this. It is probably no more than 100$ to buff this scratch out, but I play it up."Listen Ricardo, I already called the cops. Let me call my mechanic, and find out how much a new bumper costs for a mercedes, and I'll have Jav call you back."I get in my car, close the door, and call my mechanic. ( Who has recently been indicted for insurance fraud…..)He tells me to get $600 from them, because I will need a new bumper, and they cost $500 for mercedes. So, I get back outta the car, Call Ricardo from Jav's phone, and tell him i need 600 pronto, or I have the troopers deport them all. They agree, and tell me that I have to follow them up to their home in newburgh to collect my money.I am standing on the side of the road at this point, listening to honking,a nd swearing for being the cause of this traffic jam. I also forgot to mention that the wind was blowing viciously hard, and my skirt wound up around my head a few times, exposing myself to approximately 6,000 eager motorists. I was wearing a thong.Now, If you know newburgh (home sweet home) you know that there is probably a gang shooting, or slashing every 4 hours. I am NOT about to drive in my work skirt and low cut shirt, and loreal dyed hair, and go through this ghetto with a bunch of mexicans who are "giving me 600$" yeah right.at this point, the cop shows up. The mexicans start sweating. I can smell their fear. (It smelled like onions.)The officer (who's shift ends in 20 minutes, and REALLY doesn't want to have to go through the paper work of deporting aliens, and car accidents, and lack of licenses or insurance, or manners for that fact) tells me, "look, theres really no damage, are you sure you want to go through your insurance??" Well judging on my current insurance situation, I think we all agree it's smart to keep Cindy at Dewitt Insurance out of the loop.I glance over at the seven dwarfs, who are anxiously shaking their heads no, pleading. My heart grew four sizes, and I said "ya know what officer? I don't think I would like to report this."The officer leaves, and I stalk over to Javier's window and shouted at him"YOU GET TO STAY IN AMERICA, THEREFORE I GET MY $600! I AM FOLLOWING YOU!"White van full of illegal's pulls out with flashers on, I follow suit. We continue on this drive for 45 miles north, doing 40 mph. flashers on. At this point, I have woken brendan up, and told him- "bring your gun- bring your badge, get in your car NOW and meet me at the Newburgh exit!"he catches up to me (not hard to do) somewhere on the NYS Thruway. During the drive, I am laughing so uncontrollably hard, when I realized that this sort of stuff would ONLY happen to me, and happen often. I call Carly, who offers ZERO emotional support, because she too, is laughing incontrollably. She conferences Vicki in, who is brought to tears as well. We get off the exit, and follow them into a gas station parking lot, where the whole Martinez, Diaz, Sanchez and Sandoval families are waiting (all crammed into one van.)I get out of the car, as well as ricardo (Javier's bro). He surveys the damage, and says to me "I will give you $100, not a penny more. There is not a lot of damage. It shouldn't cost you much." At this point, I am spitting fire. I said, and I quote:"You little mother f'er. I have the troopers phone number, and I will call him so fast and have you fucking deported if you dont give me my 600$ so help me god. You want to mess with me? i will call your "insurance" agency and see what they have to say."They laugh. Fortunately "hahaha" is universal, and I had no problem translating.Brendan, who heard everything steps out of the car, gun in holster, badge in hand. He says:"Spring Valley Police. Stay where you are. Get out your licenses."They start freaking out. He says "Exactly what I thought, you don't have any. I deal with illegal immigrants everyday, and have them deported every day. You like America? Give the woman her $600. NOW."Ricardo digs into his wallet, and pulls out 6 $100 dollar bills. I accept it, and drive away. just a day in the life.
-Keegan Finch
LAWWWD HAB MERCY.
Lady cooking crabs for the first time.
This video is in the top 5 funniest things I have ever seen in my life.
Make sure the volume is on.
fourth grade.
THIS IS ME IN MY FOURTH GRADE SCHOOL PICTURE. I MISSED THE MEMO THAT SCHOOL PICTURES WERE THAT DAY, AND JUST GOT BRACES ON THE DAY BEFORE (NOTE: THE MOUTH HANGING WIDE OPEN). I CALLED MY MOM FROM THE SCHOOL OFFICE AND SHE TOLD ME TO TAKE OFF MY FLANNEL SHIRT AND TUCK IN MY LAX TEE. I TIGHT ROLLED MY JEANS TO SHOW OFF MY FRESH VANS AND PULLED MY HAIR BACK TO THE BEST OF MY TOM-BOY ABILITY. AT LEAST I WASN'T THE ONLY UGLY ONE IN MY CLASS.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
ALBINO UNAPOOPER
it was a little over two weeks ago, and i'm sitting at my remedial joke-of-a-job at an overpriced boutique when in walks a middle-aged-red-headed pale-as-a-ghost-white lady. she's elaborately decorated from head to toe. starting at the head- she's wearing a ghetto ass do-rag. i'm talking a sally beauty supply clearance rack black do-rag, tied in the back, flapping down the back of her neck. she is also wearing a turtle neck and a christmas sweater- nothing short of kissing geese and real jingle bells sewn on (note: this is april). and so her outfit goes... MC Hammer pants, big white leathery tennis shoes, the whole 9 yards. not to mention, her teeth looked as though she had just gargled with piss then chewed on a metal fence for eight or so hours. so i look at this lady, and i ask her if i can help her with anything, knowing damn well (and not being rude) that her style isn't exactly what we're carrying. she just glares at me and barks "WHERE 'DA PANTS". i tell her that it's a clothing store and not all the pants are in one place. she doesn't understand. "WHERE 'DA PANTS AT?" "ma'am it depends what kind of pants you want, you're gonna have to let me know." "JUST PANTS" "There's hot pink ones on clearance to your left." All the while I am helping a lady try on $30 lip gloss and wondering why her breath smells so foul, or if I accidentally didn't wash my shirt after a night of burping up jager bombs and $1 mexican beers while passed out fully-clothed. Albino stands there, glaring at me with an over-bite, pink pants, and $40 in her hand. I tell her if she wants to buy the pants, she's going to have to step toward the register. She won't move. I ask her what's wrong. She says she doesn't want to get near me. I know this lady pooped herself. Something horrible and twisted inside of me wants her to admit that she pooped herself. I ask her why she won't come near me. She says she's too embarrassed. Like an asshole, I ask why. She says "you know". I know, but I don't want her to know that I know. The overpowering smell of dookie funk and her shaking hands tell all. I look her in the eye and say "oh, wow." I hand her back $36 in change for a $40. The pants were $28. I can't wait to tell this story! She looks at me and says, "I guess my next question is, where is the bathroom?" I hand her a bag to put her soiled MC
Hammer drawers in and reply, "not here. public restroom is out the door, to the left, and two doors down" and i follow her out the door with a can of Lysol. My only regret is not seeing her in that oufit + hot pink pants.
Hammer drawers in and reply, "not here. public restroom is out the door, to the left, and two doors down" and i follow her out the door with a can of Lysol. My only regret is not seeing her in that oufit + hot pink pants.
THESE ARE A FEW OF MY FAVORITE THINGS...
laughing til my cheeks hurt
fish tacos
fish tacos
painting
accomplishment
accomplishment
chocolate milk
#2 pencils
my college experience at ECU, down to the millisecond
chapstick
cheap beer & expensive wine
beach cruising
when my face feels all crunchy from sun & salt water
concerts
boat rides
key west spring break 2007
(namely taking MARTI to the strip club)
THERE. NOW YOU KNOW ME A LITTLE BETTER.
MY BLOGGING LOGIC
It's quite simple, really. My life is far too entertaining not to share with the general public. For example, moments after this photograph was snapped I was taken into custody by the Virginia Beach Police Department. They thought I was dressed like a hooker. I guess pink bras, leopard print, unbuttoned denim shorts, and cowboy boots will do that from time to time. I begged and pleaded with them to let them know that I was just dressed in character for my White Trash themed birthday party. They finally took my word for it, but told me they still had to take me in to the station for chugging a Budweiser in the middle of the street. I demanded that I was too sober for such nonsense so they gave me a breathalyzer. Turns out I was really hammered. I was handcuffed to a pole in an empty cell on my birthday screaming and crying that it was total BS that everyone was enjoying my party without me. Man, did that suck. I finally left the police station around 4 AM, barefoot with a brown paper bag that held my ID, a CLIPSE CD, hoop earrings, a black baby doll that said "Who My Daddy Is?", and my police reports. The best part? The guards at the station nicknamed me Crier McGuire. It's my party and I'll cry if I want to, bitches. Anyway, if that's not proof enough that my life is hilarious, I've got more of where that came from. That's why I now introduce you to... MY DAILY DUMP.
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