Archive for the 'Mamba Moments' Category

Saturn Has Returned With A Can Of Whoop-Ass

Published
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mamba
on November 24, 2008
in Mamba Moments
. 0 Comments

NERD ALERT!

I’m totally about to drop some astrology knowledge on your asses.  I’m no fortune teller, nor am I a tarot card or palm reader or any of that shit.  I’m not trying to get you to join any cult or anything.  My ears perked up though when I overheard someone discussing their “Saturn Return” and I can honestly say I related to the conversation.  I googled a bunch of keywords did some research, and the only reason I am sharing is because I am so there right now, and I’m hoping I’m not alone.  So why not ask the internets? They’ll be honest, right?

I feel it necessary to point out that I am a Libra.  Libras are also known as the Scales of Balance, basically meaning that we fucking hate it when there is conflict and imbalance in our lives.  Our sign is also the only inaminate object of the Zodiac signs, meaning we are neither human nor animal, but dammit! things need to be in order.  Anywho….

Apparently somewhere around every 29.5 years the planet Saturn orbits the sun, returning to the same place in the galaxy as when you were born.  This happens between the ages of 27-30, 58-60, and 86-88. Did I tell you all I just turned 30?  Yea.  The “return of Saturn,” as it is called, brings with it an awful mix of challenge, significance, fear, reflection, doubt, prestige, hard lessons, order, confusion, and accomplishment.  I mean, seriously?  This is a Libra’s nightmare. This is my nightmare, and it’s happening.  

Saturn comes to tell you whether or not you’re on the right path in life.  If you’re not, Saturn will nag you until you realize you need to change it up.  If you are, Saturn will encourage you to stay on the same path.  

Need some proof?

Vincent Van Gogh, at age 30, decided to become a painter instead of a minister. Bill Rodgers marked the first of three consecutive Boston Marathon wins, and made the 1976 Olympic running team, all during the course of his Saturn Return.

The U.S. Census Bureau names its peak divorce years at 28-30.  You all belong to Facebook, I’m sure most of your childhood friends (and probably you!) are married, having babies, buying houses, the whole nine. (Just want to say - Love you!  Better you than me!)  Some might be ending those commitments.  Some might just be questioning them.  So goes the Saturn Return. 

One of my all-time faves, No Doubt, released an album entitled “Return of Saturn” around the same time Ms. Gwen Stefani turned 29.  The song “New” in my opinion is in direct relation to her return of Saturn, as can be found in the lyrics.  Need to read them?  Here.

Another total girl crush of mine, Drew Barrymore, attributes her return of Saturn to the changes in her life on her infamous appearance on David Letterman.  Yes, that episode.  Where she flashed her tits.  Don’t remember?  Let me refresh:

Ummm, can anyone say “parallel?”

So this is where I’m at.  A total crossroads.  Life (and Saturn) has decided to give me the ultimate mid-term exam.  Where am I now?  Where do I want to go?  Am I on the path I’m supposed to be?  

What the hell kinds of questions are these and who has the damn answers??  I’ve never passed a test without taking a look at the answer code!  It’s not fair!  I hate school!

I guess that’s the whole point.  Grow the fuck up kid and take a long hard look at where you’re at.  Where do you want to go?  Who do you want to end up being?  Saturn is here to kick your ass into high gear, to show you what you’re made of and show you how to get it.  If you listen, awesome.  If not, you’ll have another chance in about 29.5 years.  But that’s a lot of time to waste.  

Just sayin.

Manic Monday

Published
by
mamba
on November 10, 2008
in Mamba Moments
. 1 Comment

I think we’d all agree that Mondays generally suck.  Big time.  Today, however, takes the cake.  I’m not going to bore you with the mundane details of the remainder of the day, but I will share my morning with you since I’m sure at one point or another you can relate.

It was the way the day started that was the most frustrating.  Have you ever looked back on a bad day and said to yourself, “I should have known today would be like this because this morning I blahblahblahwhatever happened?”  Well I knew it in the morning, I didn’t need to wait for the end of the day to figure that out.

I woke up late, and while I usually have a tough time getting up this morning I felt like a boulder was holding me down on the bed and I just could.not.get.up.  Except it was a really cozy, soft boulder that shielded me from the frozen outside.  But I got up eventually, and there was much running around and trying to find something to wear because, oh yeah, I never did get to that laundry this weekend.  I had a few sips of coffee, tried to gather my shit together and then I remembered that I had gotten a nice new thermos for my coffee and I was actually excited to bring my own coffee to work.  (LAME!)  The coffee they have at my office is AWFUL.  God awful!  And I thought it would be better to bring my own instead of buying it every day.  You know, with the economy and all.

Anyway, I left it sitting on the coffee table.  After all that.  Running as late as I was I still took the five minutes to fill the thermos, put in the milk and sugar, and set it on the coffee table while I grabbed my keys and walked out the door.  WITHOUT THE THERMOS.  I realized I had forgotten it about three quarters of the way to the subway, and I literally punched my fists towards the ground and stamped my foot. Knowing I couldn’t very well turn back and retrieve it because then I’d be later to work than I already am, I made a quick pit stop at the local bodega to grab a cup of coffee, cursing myself that I had a perfectly delicious thermos waiting at home.  

Wanna guess what I also left sitting next to the thermos full of hot goodness?

My wallet.  

Fucking Mondays.

Being The Underdog Usually Works Out For Me

Published
by
mamba
on November 9, 2008
in Mamba Moments
. 0 Comments

Right now I’m 20 points behind in my Fantasy Football matchup.  It all comes down to how well the Giants play, and in particular, how well Brandon Jacobs plays.  So unfortunately, I’m too excited and nervous to post anything of substance.  The only reason I’m telling you this is because I need to post something today for NaBloPoMowhateveryoucallit.

So wish me luck because I need it.  Now I’m going to go scream at the TV.

UPDATE:  This time, notsomuch.  Kaithanksbai.

Commuters Are Fucking Crazy

Published
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mamba
on November 7, 2008
in Mamba Moments
. 0 Comments

I met my sister in Penn Station after work today to head to Jersey for the weekend. At 5:30, ULTIMATE RUSH HOUR.  On FRIDAY.  People that don’t live in NYC don’t really understand the insanity that goes on during this time of day in the busiest train hub in America.  Actually, scratch that.  Reverse it.  People that don’t live in NYC absolutely know all too well this kind of insanity.  It’s us that do live in NYC that don’t understand it, because we don’t have to do it everyday like the rest of them.  And let me tell you, IT IS FUCKING CRAZY.

I would rather have someone give me papercuts in my eyes and pull out my fingernails than have to deal with all that madness.  People just literally run at full speed, presumably trying to catch their train.  It doesn’t matter if you’re standing still in the middle of an empty space - THEY WILL RUN YOU OVER.  And then they’ll snarl back at you over their shoulder because that extra half a second it took to bump into you?  Well that’s the one half a second that might matter, and it will be all YOUR fault if they end up missing their ride.

And watch out for all the rolling luggage, JESUS!  You’ll lose a toe!  In fact, I bet most of these “regular” commuters only have like 3 toes, because they’ve all been CHOPPED off by rolling luggage.  It’s a serious health hazard, no one should be allowed to roll their luggage three feet behind them where they can’t fucking see it.

Thank god my sister had the beautiful idea to grab a few beers and drink them out of brown bags on the way home.  (We are such classy bitches.)  They really helped to calm me down.  Now that we’re here I’m drinking vodka straight from the bottle, and hoping that I don’t end up with a case of post traumatic stress disorder.

Thank god it’s Friday.

Runnin’ Against The Wind

Published
by
mamba
on November 2, 2008
in Mamba Moments
. 1 Comment

Each year, the NYC marathon runs right past my apartment.  It’s very exciting, not only because the streets are filled with a more diverse crowd of onlookers, but also because it’s Sunday and it’s November and that means there is another sport to get excited about besides football.  I’ll get up early, get some coffee, and stand on the sidelines watching people run 26.2 miles while I nurse my hangover and take pictures of their agony accomplishments.  My apartment is around the 12 mile marker, so it was pretty early when the frontrunners came by.  I watch them on televeision until I see them about 5 blocks away, then I dash downstairs hoping I’m faster than them in order to snap a picture.  

Last year, I was not.  I didn’t make it in time so I snapped a shot from the bedroom window:

>

That’s Paula Radcliffe in the front, with the white gloves.  She ended up winning the marathon last year.  

I almost missed them again this year, but was happy to snap Mrs. Radcliffe at the same moment a year later:

(That’s her in front, again, with the white gloves.)

She ran the last half of the marathon like a machine, pulling far enough ahead of this group to have no threat whatsoever to the victory.  I felt excited to have shared such a miniscule moment in time with her, and felt proud to be able to witness it live.

The guys came a little while after the ladies, so I was able to get a more decent shot of them:

The frontrunner here is from the U S and A, but if you look at the guy in the back of the pack in the yellow jersey?  He wins.  Pretty awesome, right?

They are running so much faster than you could ever imagine if you are watching the race on television.  It’s almost like there is a blur behind them they are gone so quickly.

As exciting as it is to watch the fastest runners pass by, it really gets exciting when the rest of the crew catches up.   39,000 runners pass my house during the course of about 3 hours, and the cheers and applause and excitement is enough to make anybody crazy inspire anyone. Seriously.  

Congratulations to all of you that may have run in this race, or knew anyone who ran in this race.  It is truly a feat and the ultimate test of endurance, and I applaud anyone who can achieve a goal that large.

I feel disappointed in myself.  Not because I feel like I need to get in shape and train for a marathon, but because I didn’t have the patience to play paparazzi and sit outside scoping out Ryan Reynolds. 

To celebrate them, I’m going to drink a lot of beer, eat until I burst, and watch some football.  After all, that’s what Sundays are made for, right?

Why Brett Favre Will Never See My Tits.

Published
by
mamba
on August 7, 2008
in Mamba Moments
. 2 Comments

Yes, folks, this post is about my tits.  

All day long I’ve been hearing and reading about how Brett Favre has been traded to the NY Jets.  This news is bittersweet for me.  On the one hand, as a new football fan, I am excited about the idea of such a football legend descending on a NY team, especially a team like the Jets.  (They need it, they’re cursed. Plus the GIANTS WON THE SUPER BOWL!)  On the other hand, even if I wanted to hit up a Jets game to watch him play, I couldn’t.

Why, do you ask? Well, I thought I’d let my younger self explain this one. Here’s an excerpt from one of my first attempts at blogging: 

 

“T…I…T…S… September 26, 2005″

So there I was…my first Jets game..my first FOOTBALL game for that matter…Giants Stadium.  The day started out wonderfully. I was ruling the beer pong table in the parking lot, even beating the retarded wasted drunk guy that came and demanded to play winner…he was a self-proclaimed sociopath, so you can imagine what I was dealing with here…needless to say I beat him, beat him pretty bad too…it was fun.  So we go into the stadium, get our seats and a beer, and proceed to begin enjoying the first half.  Which, I must add, I was thoroughly enjoying, even though I admit to not being the biggest football fan…it was a good time.  So halftime comes, and my friend and I head over to the turnstyle, where there are at least hundreds, possible closer to a thousand, people standing around…mostly dudes.  My friend had warned me prior to coming, that this is what they do…tell me if you’ve heard this…they single out a girl hanging around the turnstyle and they start chanting “T..I..T..S…TITS TITS TITS!!!!” and they won’t stop until you either flash em or walk away.  Needless to say I got picked out, and instead of being a pussy and walking away, I gave em what they were asking for….why not right??  I mean, listening to them boo you for NOT doing it is WAY worse….  Well, that was all fine and dandy until afterwards, like 30 seconds afterwards, I got tapped on the shoulder by some fat fuckin security guy who makes me go with him.  He drives my friend and I down to the “dungeon” where I got arrested and ejected from the stadium (for good).  WHAT A LOAD OF SHIT!!!  All in the name of a little T..I..T..S….a great day ends like that.  Whatever, I don’t regret doing it, I’ve heard mad girls do it with no repurcussions…so why did I get singled out?  Who knows….whatever….fuck em.

 

Yep, ladies and gentlemen, I was THAT girl.  I might even still be THAT girl, I don’t know.  All I know is that all day long I’ve been reminded of that day.  And even though I got arrested, I got off pretty easy.  I guess I was lucky, or however you want to look at that.  I guess I can hope that Favre will still be around when the new stadium is built, when I can finally try watching another football game.  No flashing this time though. 

Oh, and PS - If any of you are wondering why there are no pictures posted of this Mamba Moment it’s because I don’t have any. Rumor has it, though, that you can catch a glimpse of this EXACT incident on a certain Real Sports with Bryant Gumbel. But you didn’t hear that from me, and no, I won’t tell you which episode.

UPDATE: I did find a picture from that day.  From the moment itself:

T...I...T...S.

 

“You’re Fired!”

Published
by
mamba
on July 8, 2008
in Mamba Moments
. 0 Comments

The next time I feel that my job is overwhelming or frustrating, I’m going to imagine that all of my coworkers are sitting on these.  Including my boss.   Everyone.   Except me, of course, because that would be ridiculous.

How can you stay mad with that image?  

I must admit I want to do dirty things with this chair…which has nothing to do with the people I work with in any way, I just think it might spice things up on the personal front.  Felt I needed to make that clear.

A Moment in Time: The Best Worst Date.

Published
by
mamba
on June 24, 2008
in Mamba Moments
. 4 Comments

A few years back I worked as a bartender at a local watering hole.  We were never particularly busy, but we did manage to create a loyal following of businessmen looking for a buzz and a quick lunch during the week.  Let’s call this bar Madness (since that is pretty much all that went on there).  One day one of my favorite Regulars mentioned that he and a co-worker had been in for a drink on an unusually busy happy hour, and this co-worker was interested in taking me out for dinner.  I asked a few preliminary questions (Is he bald? Is he tall? Does he live with his mom?) and told Regular to give him my phone number.  I was going through a serial dating phase in my life.

A couple of days later (gotta play by the rules, boys, I know) I got a mysterious call from a boy named D.  (Of course I’m not going to reveal his real name.)  D seemed nice enough and witty enough, so we decided to have a night out later that week.  

Seeing as this was, in fact, a BLIND date, and my girlfriend Tits was ALSO going on a blind date that same evening, we decided it best that the boys pick us up from her place, and we could then meet up at her place after the dates were over.  This also gave us the opportunity to save each other should either of our dates turn out not-so-good.  

Tits’ boy picked her up and all seemed normal on his end.  Then D arrived.  As I opened the door to greet him, the first thing I noticed were the roses he was carrying in his hand.  No, no, that’s not really true.  The first thing I noticed was the scent of his cologne overpowering the entryway.  Then the flowers.  Then, the suit he was wearing.  And, wait a second, he’s BALD!  And shorter than me!  Damn you, Regular customer!  Knowing there was no way out at this point, I invited him in for the four of us to have a glass of wine before going on our separate blind dates.  I cursed myself for being shallow and decided to give D a real try.  It was then that D gave me THE LETTER, and said, “Hold onto this for after our date.”  Aww, how cute, I thought.  Mm-hmm.

With that, we were off.

About 20 minutes later as we drove to the restaurant for dinner, we got stuck at a railroad crossing.  The following conversation ensued:

D: “Sooo, I’ve been thinking about this date all week.”

Mamba (in my oh-so-seductive tone): “I know…the anticipation has been killing me.” 

D: “I thought to myself, ‘This date can go one of two ways.’  One, I can come off really sweet and kind and we’ll have a great time…” (at this point he reaches behind the passenger seat and pulls out a can of whipped cream) “…in which case you can spray this all over me and, if I’m lucky, lick it off.”

M (Wondering why he’s reaching behind the passenger seat again, but still trying to be seductive): “Well that sounds like a great date if I -”

D (Interrupting me): “OR, I can come off really corny and cheesy, in which case…” (pulls a can of E-Z Cheese from behind the seat) “…spray this cheese all over me and walk away!”

Now.  I don’t know how most people would react to this.  I know that I, personally, started laughing.  Of course he thought I was laughing WITH him, but no, that was definitely not the case.  I knew, at that very moment, that this was the last time I would ever be on a date with D.  Poor guy, he had no idea.  Was I honest with him, telling him I thought he was being cheesy?  Or better yet, grab that can of e-z cheese and start spraying like a graffiti artist?  Nope, instead I went with him to the restaurant, had some dinner and more than one martini.  

Afterwards, as luck would have it, Tits was pulling up JUST as we were arriving at her house and, being the gracious host she is, invited D and her date in for some more wine.  GREAT.

After a glass or two, it seemed that D was having a grand old time, and I saw his eye catch THE LETTER that was sitting on the counter.  

D: “Hey, hey, wait!  I wrote Mamba something, and I want to read it!”

Us: “Wha?”

D: “Yea!  I want you all to hear it!”

Now, remember, it was me, my friend Tits, her date, and D.  Sitting in a kitchen drinking wine and THIS GUY wants to read a letter.  OUT LOUD.  TO EVERYONE.  

Who were we to stop him?

D (picking up THE LETTER): “Here goes!  Mamba, By the time you have read this note we have been on our first excursion.  We will have some minor, and some major impressions developed of each others personality traits, and characteristics. Pro, or con, I wanted to tell you the time I spent with you via the telephone will be cherished to take with me forever!!!  This other piece of paper represents our future.  Right now it is blank.  The paper will remain blank or it will become the opening paragraph.  A paragraph to a slow and developed first story.  A story to look back on as we stare into each others eyes and laugh.  Let’s see if we can fill this letter thru infinity. D”

I’ve transcribed the letter exactly for you, internet, right down to the abbreviated “thru.”  Yes, there was an extra, blank piece of paper.  It was written on stationary that has HIS NAME ON IT.  He had even thought enough to douse the letter with his cologne for me, something I thank him for to this day since I can still smell it lingering.  Yes, I still have THE LETTER.  

A short while after we had all gained our composure we said our goodnights and went our separate ways.  Tits and I had a great laugh and went to bed.  A few days later, Regular came in for lunch at the bar with a HUGE smile on his face saying how D was floating through the office gloating at how wonderful a date he had been on.  I looked Regular right in the face and said:

“You tell D to lose my number.”

Shocked, he asked, “WHY?!?”

I grabbed THE LETTER out of my purse, slammed it on the bar and said, “THAT’s why.  And he read it in public.  To my friends.  After our FIRST DATE.  Tell him, lose Mamba’s number.”

He read the letter, put it down and said, “Ok.”  I can’t even begin to imagine what he said to D when he got back to the office.  I never saw either of them again.

The Best Worst Date