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I Am A Pig On Tuesdays!

Welcome to I Am A Pig On Tuesdays.

This week follow us to our babe of the week, Linda Blair…freaky deaky Linda Blair…

We all crapped out pants the first time we saw Ms. Blair as a youngster in the movie, The Exorcist.

The Exorcist is the very same film that is used in colleges across the world to teach college coeds the art of walking up and down stairs upside down. Ms. Blair was such a hot teenage vixen that Rick Springfield himself just had to have her move in with him.

Way to go and be the 1970s R. Kelly, RICK!!!!

Linda Blair my sweetness, you’re so hot that if the devil were to once again possess your MILFY forty something year old body again, I would without hesitation still want to tap that ass of yours.

We all know that there is just one question that needs to be asked of Linda Blair, and that is, “Is there any chance we can see a little girl on girl action between yourself and either Olsen twin, maybe even throw in a Duff or two?”

Yes, yes, yes we would all like to see a piece of that action. In fact, if I were to happen upon such an act I would toss a dollar bill on the floor and watch,

Linda Blair, let’s make some scary, wild, uninhibited slasher movies together…rrrr…

Just how hot is Linda Blair on the HUSS scale?

HUSS HUSS HUSS HUSS HUSS HUSS HUSS.

She’s a perfect seven out of seven on the HUSS scale!

-Beehive

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My Mother Has Always Been Crazy Or So I Thought…

Yes, most parents can be completely neurotic; they can have the tendency to become crazy over the weirdest things that to the naked eye seems so simple that only a crazy person would act in such a way.

I’m only going to touch on one crazy thing about my mother, which is that ever since I could remember she always insisted that we have an unlisted phone number. She always said that there are crazy people in this world, and you never know if some crazy person would pick your name out of the phone book to do something bad to you, or even worse, kill you.

Part of me always thought part, if not most of her reasoning for this was to keep her ex husband away from her, or possibly as a way to keep a childhood friend of hers who grew up to become a deranged, and dangerously violent man who would reach out to her and my family every now and then. Whenever this man came around, all the kids on my block HAD to get inside somewhere, and fathers would go out on the stoops to try and intimidate the man.

Either way she instilled this fear of publicly listed phone numbers in my head so much that now as an adult I pay the couple of dollars a month to keep my number unlisted.

Then today, I ran into two brothers that I grew up with. They asked me about an unsolved murder that took place very, very close to where we all grew up.

They had only recently heard about it from a rerun of Unsolved Mysteries.

It was a murder that took place on Mother’s Day 1982. They wondered if I remembered it, and or if I had ever heard about it.

Since I was not yet two years old that Mother’s Day, I did not remember anything of it, nor had I ever heard of this incident. For the life of me I don’t know how this unsolved murder could have gone unnoticed our entire lives since it happened.

Before googling this murder, I asked my mother if she had ever heard of a murder that had to do with a bomb. She said, “no, but I remember Mrs. Kipp was murdered.” She then recalled about how there were lots of police and the bomb squad was there, and how the person had apparently left the “package” on the doorstep of the victim.

This murder literally took place on the street that we all grew up playing football on. Sewer to sewer – it’s a Brooklyn thing, I think.

I have however heard of the M.O. of the murderer. Who is known in the media as the Zip Gun Bomber.

I remember hearing about this serial bomber back in the 1990s, when he or she had sent a couple of bombs to people in the New York area.

Since 1982, the bomber has struck numerous times, and police have no idea how the person or persons pick their victims.

Phone book maybe?????

So, it turns out that my mother may actually have had some real legitimate reasons to this whole “people might pick you out of the phone book to harm you” mentality of hers.

I’m finding all of this very odd for numerous reasons, only two of which are:

How could I have never have heard that this happened so close to where I grew up?

How could my mother have actually had a reason of truth behind the phone book fear?

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Week In Preview!

- Most of the leaves on the trees in NYC will fall off to the ground.

- This week I will eat way too many of the brownies that I made scratch during this past weekend.

- South Park will have yet another great brand new episode.

- A young college coed will get an enormous lower back tattoo of a flower, find that it is the coolest thing ever, and then show it off to all her friends. We will all anxiously await the tats awful look after popping out a kid or two, and her maintaining all that “baby fat”. God Bless America!

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I Laugh At The News….

This small article about education and money makes me laugh at all those fools who have a four year degree.

I shall go back to my day in the office, laughing as though I am Sideshow Bob.

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Open Letters To People That Will Most Likely Not Read Them!!!

To The Rep In The Field That Doesn’t Know How To Use A Fax,

You are an idiot, and I am so glad that you are a fiduciary. It makes me proud to be apart of such a great company.

Up Yours You Ignorant Fool,
B. Hairdresser

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To The MTA Employee Who Authorized The Subway Evacuation,

You made my day. I always want to be evacuated from a subway car and get to walk through the tunnel. Thanks to you this dream was able to come to fruition, albeit about 10 feet. Still, it gave me a bright start to the day.

Regards,
Beehive The Commuter.

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To The Guy That I Ordered A Roast Beef Melt From,

Thank you. Seriously, thank you. You had run out of roast beef, and then decided to use filet mignon in its place. That melt was lean and tasty.

Grazie,
Beehive

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My New Work Neighborhood Has Found Me Out!!!

A few minutes ago my manager walked past my desk and said, “Beehive, you stink!”

“What do you mean KG?”

“Wanda thinks you smell.”

“She does?”

“Yeah, she thinks we all smell.”

”That’s not nice Wanda.”

“Beehive, go check out her desk.”

“What’s going on with your desk Wanda?’

She pointed to the scented candle that she had opened up, and place conveniently on her workspace.

“I smell things.”

“Oh.”

I quietly made my exit and returned to my cube.

While I am guilty as charged, it’s not my fault.

I have a really quick metabolism that makes my body usually produce at least two bowel movements a day. So there is always something a brewing back there, and I am not a fan of drugs, even over the counter ones.

I would much rather stink up the place than always have my liver and kidneys working in overdrive due to the chemicals of Gas X or Beano.

For those of you who might find my bowel movements abnormal I will have you know that according to the State of NJ I do have healthy bowel movements, and if any state would know about bowel movements, it would be NJ.

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I Am A Pig On Tuesdays!

Welcome to I Am A Pig On Tuesdays.

This week follow us to our babe of the week, Betty Crocker…sweet supple Betty Crocker…

Quite a many man has had the luxury of eating some of Betty Crocker’s fine cooking. Many of us will attest that she is the hottest homemaker to have ever walked the face of the Earth. She has countless food recipes, all which are tasty, which leads me, the average man to assume that Betty Crocker also has a large array of sexual positions and scenarios that no man could ever tire from.

Ooooohhhhhh baby!!!!!!

Betty Crocker you my dear, know that the way to a mans heart is through his stomach, which as we all know eventually leads to a mans pants.

I’m sure the question you all want to know is this, “How many licks does it take to get to the center of a tootsie pop?”

If you take our little question as a euphemism for Betty Crocker’s extra special tootsie pop, I will let you all know that a good steady constant lick at 98.6 degrees F in a counterclockwise direction for eight minutes will allow you to get to that delicious center.

Mrs. Crocker, bake me a cake, watch me eat it and mentally undress me with your eyes, then allow me to have you as I will…I dare you.

Just how hot is Betty Crocker on the HUSS scale?

HUSS HUSS HUSS HUSS HUSS HUSS HU.

She’s a rockin’ six and a half out of seven on the HUSS scale!

-Beehive

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Week In Preview….

Leif Garrett will be falling off the wagon, sometime around Thursday. This will come as a huge shock to his last one fan, which has reportedly lived in the middle of the woods being raised by wolves since the 1970s.

Due to a time warp, the Pilgrims will once again land on Plymouth Rock. Only upon first sight they will instead name the land, Red Freckle Hook.

There will be a bevy of new bus routes made to the Manhattan streets, many of which will run in either a complete circle, or a figure eight – all depending on just how out of the closet each city planner is.

The Thong Song will once again gain it’s number one status on Z100, and one lucky young lady will be the lucky 100th caller and win a CD six pack.

A certain someone will wake up one morning full of cotton mouth, go to the kitchen for a glass of water, then realize that they are in the wrong house, again. They will then wish that they had never left the studio the night before; for they bet that they could have laid the tracks down to that number one hit after all.

An evening commuter will reek havoc on a crowded downtown E train during an evening commute. This brouhaha will be caused by the bad choice of a lunchtime meal of Buffalo Wings. This commuter will have wished that they had stayed in the office late, this way they could have cut the beef in their bosses chair - instead of the pregnant woman’s face who happened to be sitting next to their butt.

The Beehive Hairdresser will finally decide if he wants to write a blog about the time he squirted diarrhea and vomited at the same time all over the floor from both ends in this guys bathroom.

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Gorgeous Autumn Day…

After a delicious brunch with the Cheese in Park Slope we went for a walk through Prospect Park. We entered from the 9th Street entrance, and headed straight for the dog beach. We watched a dog play in the water and attempt to catch a duck.

We left the dog beach shortly after arriving due to an embarrassing dogfight in the water. It was only a one bite, then a yelp commotion that left everyone a little stunned, and no one looking each other in the eyes. ***Both dogs are alright.

So we went along our way.

We got to walk through the more “natural” part of the park that has a couple of small waterfalls and the only place you can walk or sit is on the path. The parks department has the path fenced in, and I kind of felt as if the squirrels and birds were looking at us as if we were the attraction.

I had never been to that part of the park and found it was quite peaceful.

Then we headed off to the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens, and along the way I found a lemon tree that was leaning over from the Prospect Park Zoo. I know it was a lemon tree since I sliced one fallen piece of fruit open and it reeked of rotting lemon inside. This scent stuck to my hands for the next four hours.

After the lemon debacle we found ourselves across from the Lefferts Historic House.
Having never been to this house myself and since I am an absolute sucker for historic home tours, I immediately found my way to the open door.

The house itself had the smell that just about every historical wooden building that is open to public tours has. I’m not quite sure if each home is stuffed with a mothball type of anti decay packaging or if it is the wood that these homes were built with that gives it this smell, but I enjoy smelling it.

After a short 10 minutes of looking at photos of what19th Century suburban Brooklyn’s Flatbush Ave was like the tour was done.

I recommend you take the tour if you’re ever in the area, it’s free, and it’s cool to see what is now Flatbush Ave without a brownstone in site, just humungous trees and grassy fields.

Finally, we made our way to the gardens. I flashed my ultra hip swag BBG membership cards and we went in through the back entrance.

I had never been to these gardens until this past February, and each time I go I fall in love with the place a little more. I picked up some more seeds off of the ground from that tree with the crutch holding it up - seeing it is only way to believe such a tree and crutch actually exists – I have plans for the spring time when I will attempt to grow one of the trees from seed.

Since thee tree will eventually grow to about 80 plus feet tall I have no place of my own to plant a young seedling if I do have success, I can only hope to find a spot in my sister yard or a nearby church grounds for it.

Then I found myself a comfy rock to lie down and think on.

As I relaxed and pondered my thoughts I found out something new about myself.

I realized that I have the ability to read lips. Yes, lips. Here’s the catch, I can only read lips of people who are not speaking English.

It’s crazy, I know. I sure as heck can understand the English language verbally and in written form, yet I find it is just too hard for me to read a persons lips if they speak English.

Any other language I can read the lips of without any problem. I was able to read a Russian mans lips telling his wife, “I would love to climb a tree and watch the snow fall down in Montana tomorrow.”

I was slightly perplexed by this mans comment as well, until I heard his wife reply with, “Axl Rose is the blackest man I have ever seen.”

It was at this point when I realized that this Russian couple knew I was able to read their lips with they spoke Russian and that they were screwing around with me, and I fell for it hook line and sinker.

I also realized that I want to ask Santa for a digital camera this Christmas.

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What A Week It’s Been…

I have transitioned to a new “consultant” position at work. I received less than three hours of training for a job that normally has weeks of training; this made me nervous about going in to work this past Monday. One week through and I must say that it isn’t half bad. Sure I do not get to read or write blogs as much as I had been, but at least I never left work crying or angry, which is a great thing.

In fact, I was given lots of praise from all the people who called in, and even words of “I love you Beehive.”

I kid you not, and this was all just from my picking up the phone and answering their questions, which, I’m told hadn’t been happening.

Go me.

On Friday, I was informed that I was to move into a different cube, which I did, leaving Brender behind. No longer can I see out a window from my cube, no longer will I be away from the hussle and bussle of the normal workers. I didn’t mind, until I realized what cube I was going to.

It was the cube of the now former coworker who had awful awful breath. I never cleaned a cube before I used it in the past, ever!

This one was scrubbed for over an hour before I felt comfortable enough to sit in it.

I sanitized all possible surfaces that I could possibly touch, which included the insides all the drawers and overheads. I swapped out the phone, chairs, and coat hooks.

During this clean up I found these items in the cube:

1) Oreo cookie crumbs.

2) A bumper sticker that commemorates the 10th anniversary of the Million Man March.

3) An unused maxi pad.

I threw the Oreo crumbs and maxi pad out; the bumper sticker was way too cool to not hang up in my cube – sanitized first!

Off to an engagement party.

Laters!

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Guess Who’s Still Alive!!!

As I strolled home this past Wednesday evening I spotted Larry Bud Melman sitting in front of the local cup cake shop. He’s lived about five blocks from me my entire life, and yet I had never seen him in my neighborhood before. He looked really really old, and I thought it wasn’t him since I assumed he died a long time ago. Google proved me wrong. Larry is 84 and kickin’.

FYI - I submitted this sighting to gawker stalker, although I doubt they’d publish him.

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Open Letters To People That Will Most Likely Never Read Them…

To The Person In My Office That Keeps Farting,

I know that I break the wind in the office all the time; you seem to drop an open butt drive by my cube twice a day. You stink! Rarely do my farts make me say, “Disgusting” aloud to myself. Whoever you are, please stop, or else I just might need to leave fliers on everyone’s desk detailing the smells that I keep smelling that have come from your butt. I’m sure that there is way too much inter office gangbanging going on for someone to drop the time on you.

You’ve been warned!

Sincerely,
My Nose

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To The Person Or Persons Who Stole My Blue Recycling Bin,

That was not funny, and I had a gut feeling as if something was going to happen. That Wednesday night when I placed my blue recycling bin at the curb I had the gut feeling that it was going to be stolen, this was the same gut feeling that I the night of 9/10/01 when I couldn’t get my sister’s dog to get inside, and saw a van full of men that looked like Ramsey Yusef.

This gut feeling leads me to believe that the only true person behind both events, and this person is in fact Osama Bin Laden. I’ll never be able to put out the garbage and feel safe again.

Osama, you stink on ice!

Yours Truly,
Justin Timberlake’s Biggest Fan

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To Kina From The Real World Road Rules Challenge,

You need some serious help, yes, you do. I don’t often just come out and say things like this, and in this case it is justified.

I will try to lay it out for you nice and slow. Here it goes… you are one of the creepiest and most annoying individuals I have ever met. Which is quite hard to do since we have never met, nor have we ever spoken. The only contact I have had with you has been through MTV game shows.

Now you might say that I don’t know the real you, since TV doesn’t show the full personality of an individual. Well, I will let you know that I have watched countless people on game shows such as The Price Is Right, Wheel of Fortune, and the greatest game show of all time – Classic Concentration! That’s right Kina, this is all just you, not me. In theory the creepiest most annoying person that I have come across through a game show should have been someone who has gone to see The Price Is Right 18 times before having their name called by Rod Roddy.

Creepy Kina, my advice to you is to speak to the camera about other game show contestants without the hyperventilating sporadic words, do not wear so much make up, and please for the love of God do not be so clingy and codependent with your boyfriend, Randy. I’m not even sure that the two of you are together, and I hope for both your sakes that you are not.

Get some serious help Kina.

Regards,
A Concerned Game Show Viewer

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My Nose

Everyone has nose hair. I for one, am one of those people who takes pride in ensuring that his nose hairs are trimmed neatly, not tickling one another, not peeking out and staying all up in there. On the flip side, I can be found with my finger up my nose more often than not. I’m not usually picking, I enjoy the sensation of my fingers being up and in it. I don’t know why or how this happened, I have just accepted it that it is something that I do.

About a week and a half ago I was sitting at home with a finger up there, and I found something strange.

I found myself playing with this new friend that I had sprung out of my left nostril nose. It took me a few moments before I had even realized my new discovery. When I finally realized what I thought it might have been I immediately went to the bathroom mirror. That was the moment when I saw the Ron Jeremy of nose hairs.

It was glorious!

It was a nose hair, one really long, coarse thick hair. It was way thicker than any hair that I have on my body, and it was without a doubt longer than any hair that has been found up my nose. I could feel that it started way up near the top of my nose, and see that it flowed out past my nostril bottom by about a centimeter. I know this because I was able to grab it with both my index finger and thumb.

As cool as I thought this wacky nose hair was, I needed to cut it almost immediately. I thought that if I kept playing with it I would get a bloody nose that would need to be cordurized (sp? Word doesn’t even have the correct spelling).

I’ve had to get my nose cordurized in the past for breaking things inside of it, which had nothing to do with placing a finger up it whatsoever. I had to go to the Ear, Nose, & Throat (ENT) doctor three separate occasions to get it properly cordurized, and it is one of the worst uncomfortable physical feelings possible.

The basic process of cordurizing a nose is the ENT looking up it with a long floppy tiny telescopic lens, and then lighting a long kitchen match, blowing the match out, then placing it up the nose to burn the broken pieces of nose flesh together.

With that being said, I wasn’t taking my chances by allowing myself to play with this hair any longer. I stood in front of the mirror, and held different placements of the scissors. Having never had to actually send scissors up either nostril for a job before, this took some careful thought on hand positioning and the need for steady handwork.

With one careful snip it was done. I blew out really hard, and that mysterious stranger was gone. I only knew him for a few minutes, and yet he had changed my life so dramatically.

It opened my mind up to the ability for my body to allow things to happen that I never thought were possible. For instance, if my tongue grew teeth out of it, fine, all the better. If my arms and legs got rusty like the Tin Man and needed oil to work, I’d become the spokesperson for OPEC, and if a penis were to fall out of my butt hole one day, it certainly wouldn’t shock me. My body knows no limits when it comes to evolution.

Now here I am, it’s been a week and a half, and I want to play with that odd nose hair. I can stick my finger up my left nostril and feel it in there. It has definitely grown dramatically since I cut it, and I’m thinking that I will allow it to grow just as long, if not longer than it once was.

Long live my freakish nose hair follicle.

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My Toilet Tank Has Seen Better Days…

There is an empty box of Puffs Plus, and an unopened pack of Always Clean on it. How has my life come to this???

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