Girls’ Bike Club XVII: Other Door
Bic it next time, wimp.
Sarah: …Oh my God. Have you seen this?
Wing Chun: What, OJ?
Sarah: Well, that too.
Wing Chun: If you mean “did I see it…coming from 1996,” yes, I did.
Sarah: I love how every headline about that seems to have this unspoken “…obviously” after it.
Wing Chun: I know! It’s like “in bed” and fortune cookies.
Sarah: Totally. “Simpson jailed as ‘flight risk’ amid media frenzy…”
Wing Chun: “…Obviously.”
Sarah: “OJ Stays Put in Jail, For Now…”
Wing Chun: “…Obviously.”
Sarah: It’ll work on the inevitable Onion headline, too.
Wing Chun: Oh, sure.
Sarah: “Exhausted Nation To Simpson: Seriously, Fuck Off.”
Wing Chun: “…Obviously.” God, poor Fred Goldman.
Sarah: Oh, I know. He’s calling a press conference all, “See? SEE? What do I keep telling you?!”
Wing Chun: No, I think he’s getting extremely drunk in a dive bar somewhere. “He killsh my shon, he getsh off. He shtealsh hizh own shit back, now he’zh in jail. Iiiiii jusht don’t get it.”
Sarah: Hell, I don’t get it.
Wing Chun: You know who really didn’t get? Whoever answered the 9-1-1 call.
Sarah: Ha! Seriously. The guy probably had to call, like, five times.
Wing Chun: Right? “Sir, prank-calling 9-1-1 is a felony in this state.Knock it off.” “For the last time, this ISN’T A PRANK!”
Sarah: “…Obviously.”
Wing Chun: Hee. So anyway.
Sarah: So anyway…oh yeah! Speaking of 9-1-1 calls I wouldn’t have minded hearing…the assassination attempt on K-Fed?
Wing Chun: Kevin Federline?
Sarah: No, President K-Fed.
Wing Chun: Thanks ever so much for the sarcasm, but if you’re going to use the verb “to assassinate,” which is typically reserved for figures of some consequence —
Sarah: It wasn’t my word, it was Yahoo News’s! And besides, come on.
Wing Chun: Fine.
Sarah: “No, the other K-Fed. The Nobel prizewinner.”
Wing Chun: I SAID “FINE.”
Sarah: “K-Fed J. Hawking.”
Wing Chun: Oh yes, by all means. Run this into ground while I continue to wonder patiently what the eff you’re talking about in the first place.
Sarah: Well, it’s been debunked, but apparently the FBI and LAPD both thought there was a legitimate contract on K-Fed’s life for a while there.
Wing Chun: Well, that’s a great use of taxpayer money.
Sarah: Honestly. Like anyone would bother.
Wing Chun: Like anyone needs to bother. He’s going to be eaten by his own case of crabs eventually; just let nature take its course.
Sarah: A few months ago I might have agreed with you, but now it means the kids would have to live with Britney.
Wing Chun: Yeah, I…that situation is just beyond at this point.
Sarah: It is. You know that Sopranos episode where Christopher kills the dog by sitting on it?
Wing Chun: I was just going to say that.
Sarah: “…Obviously.”
Wing Chun: Hee.…I mean, “those poor kids.”
Sarah: Seriously, though. Shit like this makes me want to send my mother a muffin basket the size of the Blarney Stone.
Wing Chun: I know! “Thank you for sending me to my room.”
Sarah: “While wearing undergarments.”
Wing Chun: “And not marrying Kevin Federline.”
Sarah: God. My mother, married to Kevin Federline?
Wing Chun: Im-possible.
Sarah: Clearly.
Wing Chun: Although that would obviate the need for an assassin.
Sarah: Oh yes it certainly would.
Wing Chun: At times like this, I wonder if we shouldn’t permit women to become members of the GBC.
Sarah: I wonder that myself, occasionally. I do feel like Brett Somers should be extended a posthumous honorary membership.
Wing Chun: Oh yeah, she died, didn’t she. Aw.
Sarah: I guess after Charles Nelson Reilly went, she just didn’t want to go on.
Wing Chun: Who among us did, really.
Sarah: Jerry Lewis did.
Wing Chun: Were…they in a rumble or something?
Sarah: No, you know, with the —
Wing Chun: “Unfortunate word,” right, sure. I’d already forgotten that happened, practically.
Sarah: It did blow over remarkably quickly.
Wing Chun: Well, he’s old. Old people believe wrong shit sometimes. Or that’s what American society has agreed to believe, anyway.
Sarah: You know what I think? I think he knows people believe that, which lets him get away with saying this shit that a 40-year-old would get crucified for.
Wing Chun: You think Captain Cross-Eye is that calculated?
Sarah: I don’t know about “calculated.” I do think he’s not as careful with his words as he might be given that he’s a public figure, because the public is going to forgive him because he’s an old coot.
Wing Chun: An old coot who raises a buttload of money for a good cause.
Sarah: And there’s that.
Wing Chun: “It just slipped out because I was so exhausted from being a good person!”
Sarah: That was the other thing working in his favor, you’re so right.
Wing Chun: Well, what can you really say in response. “Mr. Lewis, we the people demand that you resign from a charity you basically invented, because we hate you, and we hate muscular-dystrophy kids even more.”
Sarah: Although…eh, never mind.
Wing Chun: Just say it. Unless it involves Michael Jackson, in which case, just say it, but at the other end of the hall, in a whisper.
Sarah: Okay, forgive me, but: shouldn’t those kids be cured by now? What’s happening to that money?
Wing Chun: I have occasionally wondered that.
Sarah: That disease must be a stubborn bitch to be resisting the kabillion research dollars he’s raised, for real. I mean, what I know about medical research wouldn’t fill a thimble, obviously —
Wing Chun: Oh, me neither, but here’s what I really wonder — what happens when he dies?
Sarah: Female comedians get to perform on the telethon?
Wing Chun: No, seriously — if Uncle Jerry croaks and they still haven’t raised enough money for a cure by that time? After he’s been doing these telethons since, like, 1861? Then what happens after he’s gone?
Sarah: I’m sure some well-meaning, but also attention-whorey, other comedian or personality will take it over.
Wing Chun: Who else is going to want to stay awake for 46 hours?
Sarah and Wing Chun: …Ryan Seacrest.
Sarah: Did we put Seacrest in the GBC?
Wing Chun: Hell if I know. I need three Excel files just to keep the child stars straight.
Sarah: I don’t think we did.
Wing Chun: Did we discuss it and vote no, or did we not even discuss it?
Sarah: I don’t think we discussed it, but if we discussed it now, I would probably in fact vote no.
Wing Chun: Really?
Sarah: You’d vote yes, then.
Wing Chun: Not particularly forcefully, but yeah, I’d vote yes — if the GBC were following more of a Girls’ Bike Idol format.
Sarah: …Huh. Interesting.
Wing Chun: You’d have to put Cowell in as well, then, even though he hasn’t done anything to deserve it, really.
Sarah: Overruled, my wavy-haired friend.
Wing Chun: Really?
Sarah: One, continuing to participate with knowledge aforethought in a cultural…mediocrinaut that is the Indians to our Custer. Two, that terrible —
Wing Chun: Whoa whoa whoa, hold up.
Sarah: What, “mediocrinaut”?
Wing Chun: Yeah. As in “juggernaut,” I take it?
Sarah: Yeah, was that not clear? I was trying to tune it up on the fly but it wasn’t quite coming together, so I felt I should move on.
Wing Chun: It’s…yeah, I’m not seeing a way to tweak it.
Sarah: I didn’t want to go back to the “-zilla”-suffix well again.
Wing Chun: Also, how long had you been sitting on that Custer line?
Sarah: Two weeks.
Wing Chun: Very good. Anyway, sorry to interrupt. Two?
Sarah: Two, that flattop. To quote the man himself: appalling.
Wing Chun: It kind of is, but I can’t imagine him with any other hairstyle. I mean, a Caesar, I guess, but then…not so much.
Sarah: Just cut short and parted on the side?
Wing Chun: But then it doesn’t go with the V-necks.
Sarah: The blame for that lies, perhaps, with the V-necks.
Wing Chun: I don’t know, it’s not the hippest, but it works for him.
Sarah: It does, really.
Wing Chun: So Cowell’s not going in?
Sarah: Well, we have a bunch of questions here — is Seacrest going in, can he go in without the judges, do we make a Brett Somers exemption for Paula since she’s on more drugs than Elvis…it’s complicated.
Wing Chun: Here’s what I think. I think Seacrest should go in, so that the judges can go in, so that, first, Randy Jackson can ride a girls’ bike with wheels made out of his gigantic wristwatch faces.
Sarah: Oh my God, can I ride a girls’ bike with wheels made out of his gigantic wristwatch faces? That sounds awesome!
Wing Chun: I’m sure he’d let you. If you can wrestle Liberace off it for five minutes.
Sarah: That bike has the yo factor, for sure.
Wing Chun: Hee.
Sarah: …What? Flavor Flav joke?
Wing Chun: No, just — that you will scour the internet for weeks, looking for the plainest, flattest, mitteniest black boot ever made, but then at the same time you really like things that are really sparkly and bright.
Sarah: I’m a mystery wrapped inside a riddle —
Wing Chun: Carried in a glossy orange totebag. Full of jewelry from the Swarovski store.
Sarah: The Swarovski store!
Wing Chun: You never don’t look over at it when we walk by.
Sarah: I know! It’s an illness.
Wing Chun: There’s worse afflictions. That ring you got is rad.
Sarah: If we’re going to put women in the GBC, can we —
Wing Chun: Stop! I want to see if I can guess what you’re going to say. I bet you a dollar.
Sarah: No bet, you totally can. Go.
Wing Chun: You want to put Cher in.
Sarah: I do!
Wing Chun: Because she’s sparkly.
Sarah: She is!
Wing Chun: I knew it.
Sarah: I love her!
Wing Chun: Were you a drag queen in a past life? Really.
Sarah: Please, I’m practically a drag queen in this life. You’ve seen me try to put eyeshadow on.
Wing Chun: Hee.
Sarah: I’m saying. So — Cher?
Wing Chun: Well, why not. But my reasoning is that she would give Sean Penn a ration of shit.
Sarah: Oh, sure. “You’re not the only one with an Oscar here, Chavez Junior.”
Wing Chun: Oh, not even. She’d just be like, “Uch, whatever,” and walk off.
Sarah: Not even that. She’d have a 20-year-old underwear model carry her and her bike off while she files her nails. Actually, scratch that, she’d be reading a book.
Wing Chun: You know what, she would. I bet she sits around in her Bob Mackie bathrobe, just reading. And not Harry Potter, either.
Sarah: Or she’s listening to language tapes.
Wing Chun: While she’s reading.
Sarah: And knitting.
Wing Chun: And doing the Times crossword in pen.
Sarah: You love Cher too!
Wing Chun: Well, she doesn’t think she’s better than anyone, she’s not all over the goddamn tabloids all the time, she can actually act, and she invented being a cougar. You have to give her credit.
Sarah: So what you’re saying is that you love her.
Wing Chun: The problem I have is…the songs. I did believe in life after love, and then she ruined it for me.
Sarah: I guess that answers the “do the AI judges go in the GBC” question.
Wing Chun: “Cher, dawg, it was kinda pitchy…I wasn’t really feeling it.”
Sarah: “Too cabaret — sorry!”
Wing Chun: “Pauler, do stop licking your bicycle.”
Sarah: Hee, and if Dawson eats Paula?
Wing Chun: Oh, Jesus.
Sarah: Cue the final scene from 40-Year-Old Virgin.
Wing Chun: Ha! Seriously.
Sarah: With Seth Rogen as Jim Morrison.
Wing Chun: You take that back right now.
Sarah: Sorry!
Wing Chun: That’s horrible.
Sarah: You’re right, I apologize.
Wing Chun: So — where are we?
Sarah: Uh — OJ’s already in. Britney no, K-Fed —
Wing Chun: Britney no?
Sarah: She’s a little busy with the parenting classes at the moment.
Wing Chun: Well…okay. But let’s revisit it when she gets out of rehab.
Sarah: She went back to rehab?
Wing Chun: She will.
Sarah: True. Okay, tabling Britney. K-Fed, in as Crowe’s punching bag.
Wing Chun: Brett Somers, in to keep Wink Martindale company.
Sarah: Fine. Jerry Lewis? What did we decide?
Wing Chun: I think we put him in already, because he’d hate it, and he totally would.
Sarah: Sold. Seacrest.
Wing Chun: In, I think. He’s actually quite good at keeping live shows moving, so he’d be handy during the meetings.
Sarah: You know who’s not handy, but now must go in?
Wing Chun: …Dunkleman.
Sarah: I’m picturing the two of them in western gear, stepping out into opposite ends of a dusty frontier-town street.
Wing Chun: “Wah wah waaaaaaaaaahhh…”
Sarah: “Ah eee ah eee ahhhhhhh!”
Wing Chun: The Good, The Bad, And The Dunkly.
Sarah: A Fistful Of Dunkles.…Ew, that was wrong.
Wing Chun: It sure was. My God.
Sarah: It doesn’t matter anyway, Seacrest ain’t got time for a duel. He’s too busy hosting…whatever seven awards shows are on tonight.
Wing Chun: A sales-team dinner at a Honda dealership.
Sarah: The athletics banquet at my high school. “This…is the sportsmanship award for freshman field hockey.”
Wing Chun: …Damn, now I kind of want the ‘Crest on my outgoing voicemail.
Sarah: “One of you is going to leave a message, and we’ll find out who…after the tone.”
Wing Chun: People don’t really do that Smurfy stuff anymore. Or try to be meta, like Dylan McKay.
Sarah: Uch, that was so annoying. What was his message, “You know what to do” or something like that?
Wing Chun: Something like that, yeah. And the Walshes are all taken aback by his curtness on his answering machine, because he’s too busy reading the Romantics to fuck around with phone manners. Or whatever.
Sarah: It is extremely satisfying to envision the quick and complete beatdown Dylan McKay would receive within ten minutes of arriving at the GBC fort.
Wing Chun: Yeah, that shit wouldn’t take long.
Sarah: One Brando sneeze would do it.
Wing Chun: Or Jim Morrison burp.
Sarah: “We already have a…me. [rrrruck!] Beat it, Bones.”
Wing Chun: “…You can leave The Collected Wordsworth.”
Sarah: Hee. It’s kind of a shame the whole witty-outgoing-message thing went by the wayside, though.
Wing Chun: It is? With people making their kids do it and everything?
Sarah: Oh, Lord, I’d forgotten that nonsense.
Wing Chun: Or each person in the family would say his or her name, and then they’d have the dog bark too, and it took twenty minutes and you’d be sitting there like, this is a toll call, jerks.
Sarah: Agh, the dog! “And last but not least, Brownie!” “Woof!” And then the family is chuckling all, “Aw, Brownie. …Leave a message!”
Wing Chun: “I’ve got a message for you, all right.”
Sarah: “I won’t be leaving my number, because I hate you now.”
Wing Chun: Still think it’s a shame?
Sarah: No.
Wing Chun: Wasn’t there some contest where you could win Mr. Moviefone as your outgoing message? And he’d personalize it and everything?
Sarah: I don’t think so, but damn, that would be awesome too.
Wing Chun: I’m sure that guy’s, like, a ringtone or something now.
Sarah: Oh, no doubt.You know, those two guys and the “in a world where” voice-over guy should all go in the GBC, just to narrate stuff.
Wing Chun: And drive people crazy.
Sarah: “Helloooo, and welcome to the GBCeeeee!”
Wing Chun: “You have selected…The Dooch! Rrrrrr-rated Rrrrrrr!”
Sarah: “In a world where nobody is as self-important a rat-faced pinko butthole as Sean Penn…”
Wing Chun: …What? What happens in that world?
Sarah: I…don’t know. “Only two women can make fun of him”?
Wing Chun: Well, I certainly hope that’s not the case. Pretty big job for just us chickens.
Sarah: That’s for sure. I always feel like I shouldn’t bag on a guy who’s trying to make a difference, but then —
Wing Chun: But he’s always such an angry pill about it. You have no choice.
Sarah: In a nutshell.
Wing Chun: Besides, he’s obviously going to strangle the movie-trailer guy with his own bike chain, at which time any wrath you direct at him will be deserved.
Sarah: Excellent point.
Wing Chun: He’s probably going to beat up Mr. Moviefone as well.
Sarah: “Ow, That Really Hurts, Dude! Rrrrrr-rated arrrrghhhhgggle!”
Wing Chun: At least OJ won’t have any trouble finding the real killer. …So, we good?
Sarah: Are we going to discuss the Terrence Howard thing?
Wing Chun: What Terrence Howard thing?
Sarah: With the baby wipes?
Wing Chun: With the…ohhhhhh yeah! You know, I don’t really have much to add.
Sarah: Me neither. Dude crazy.
Wing Chun: Aaaaaaaaaand meeting adjourned.
Tags: GBC
God, I love the GBC. I bought the audio from Itunes and I just listened to the whole thing. And got the giggles so hard I almost had to pull over.
Cheers! Thanks for making a premature wakeup a good thing.
I can just picture Seacrest being the ankle biting dog of the group. Just way too enthusiastic all the time.
And OJ? Obviously.
Word. More GBC, please! And… other things as well. Entertain me!
THANK you for validating my feelings about Cowell’s hair. How can a frillionaire have hair that ugly. But then: Trump. How does this happen!
GBC!!!! So awesome! I seriously want to put a tap on your phone so I can listen to every convo you and Wing have. Cause I know they are all like that! After hearing the CD of GBC I can almost hear your voices as I read. More GBC!
“It kind of is, but I can’t imagine him with any other hairstyle.”
Dude. You know what must be done.
“Wing Chun: “Pauler, do stop licking your bicycle.””
I laughed so freakin’ hard, I think I popped a capillary. I’m sure the woman in the next cube is going to commit me.
Cher, K-Fed and Mr. Moviefone- best, GBC, ever!
Thank you!! I needed a giggle this morning…my day went to the dogs before 7 am. But, one word on the answering machine voice thing…Karl Kassell. Some week, I’ll have the nerve to call “Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me” and try to win that prize. No one I know would have a clue, but it would make smile everytime!!!
Ah, yes, more GBC! Now I want to go dig out my CD…but it’s still in a moving box somewhere. *sigh*
In a perfect world, there would be a MOVIE of the GBC…theaters would provide you with a box of Kleenex upon entering the theater. I’d love to see that group of guys totally sniping at each other.
Awesome GBC. And you’re right about Cher, there is no end to how wonderful that woman is.
Parenthetically, I have Pierce Brosnan saying my name on my voicemail message. Not in a cool way though, I was watching the trailer for “The Matador” on my laptop and there’s a scene of him meeting a stewardess who has my name, and he says it all sexy like. Cut to me, pausing the trailer the exact second before he says the name, recording the beginning of the voice mail greeting (“Hi, this is…”) and then holding my phone up to the laptop speakers while pressing “play” on the trailer.
So, I’m a gigantic dork, everyone who hears that message is probably like “what the fuck is some dude doing on her voicemail?” but it makes me happy in a way I can’t really explain. Yay!
Worth the wait. Thank you. Now I’m just waiting on the next CD to hear Wing’s Aaaaand meeting adjourned.
YES, yes, the “5 guys in a limo” voice-over ensemble really, really has to be there. But that invites the inevitable problem when Randy Newman reads about it in the trades…He’ll be all “I go EVERYWHERE with those guys! My invite must have been lost in the mail! They must be so worried about me!”
And he’ll truck on over there, and when Billy Joel gets out of the bathroom after his eighteenth beer pee of the evening, Randy’s there taking over his piano, and is song-narrating all the carnage…
“Look at Sean Penn. He’s gasping for air. (doo doo doo doo)
He thinks the world now just isn’t FAAAAIR
‘specially when you choke him ’cause it fucks up his HAAAAIR…”
And when he pauses to try to find a rhyme for “pompous”, Seacrest jumps in to wrap things up before K-Fed starts beatboxing “Popozao” over it….
yeah, i’m clearly stalling before heading out to work today….
Hooray GBC!
You know, I’m pretty sure Cher is a cyborg. She’s not having plastic surgery, she’s having her body parts removed and replaced with immortal robot parts. After the apocalypse there will only be Cher.
Wow. Fistful of Dunkles indeed…I laughed until I cried. Thank you for kicking off my weekend on a high note.
Anne, I thought the very same thing, the only two people whose voice I want on my answering machine are Karl Cassell and possible Mr. T. “Leave a message at the end of the beep, foo.” Cause that’s how I role.
Also, I’ve been lobbying (well in my head at least) for the inclusion of Women into the GBC since the Michelle Rodriguez drunk driving exploits of… how long ago was that? I often wondered if the woman version of GBC should be something like The Big Wheel gang or something. There’s not enough hi-larity if the women are just on pink huffy’s with banana seats, there needs to be something a little extra…
Oooh, Brett Somers and Dawson are going to kill each other! Bitch fight!
I can’t get the Terrence Howard link to open, but as the URL says “terrence-howard-thinks-women-are-unclean-and-dressed-like-whores-287242.php,” I think I’m getting the general gist.
Women in the GBC? Seems to me they should have to ride on the handlebars. Which sounds really sexist and also awesome. Because who gets to drive Rosie O’Donnell around?
Jerry Lewis.
Thought One: Yay, more GBC! You know, I should find my GBC CD and listen to it on the way to work today.
Thought Two: I wonder if I should impress Sars with my knowledge that $85 funds one minute of muscualr dystrophy research? Nah, I only learned that last night when I was doing the fliers for that muscular dystrophy fundraiser I signed up to participate in. Dropping the knowledge would be way too pretentious.
Thought Three: Should I link my donation page in my livejournal? I bet Jerry Lewis would feel a great disturbance in the force if all my slash-ficcer buddies started funding MDA research.
Thought Four: “This…is the sportsmanship award for freshman field hockey.” still has me giggling.
Thought Five: You know what would be good right now? Pie.
Munchkin,
That is exactly the thought I had–a women’s version of the GBC on Big Wheels! Or maybe Power Wheels (pow-pow-power wheels! ::hate on that commercial::) or boys’ dirt bikes Although razr scooters have a certain appeal, too…
Sars,
This is episode 17, right? Weren’t Penn and Jolie supposed to marry in this one? What happened? Speaking of Jolie, I’m almost ready to see her and Pitt in their respective bike clubs–Pitt acting like he’s far too cool for it, while dodging Dawson, and Jolie and Rosie in a slap fight.
Dylan’s outgoing message was actually, “It’s Dylan. You know the drill…” Why do I know this? My best friends and I spent several years making fun of it. Pleasantly surprised to see that some other people also recall something so obscure/hilarious.
I loooove the GBC. And I’m glad there’s new GBC, obviously, but for two reasons: A) new GBC, yay! and B) I had this thought recently, watching “Batman Begins”, that I had to tell you about, Sars, which was that if we lived in that universe, you and Wing would be putting Bruce Wayne in the GBC for getting drunk and burning down his own house.
Re: cutesy voice messages–I briefly went out with a guy whose voice message was:
EEE EEE EEE! I’m out monkeying around right now, but if you leave a message, I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.
….Briefly.
I can’t believe nobody has suggested the Girl’s Segway Club. Mobility, yet utter loss of dignity equal to pink tasseled Schwinns for boys? Check. Humorously weird riding posture? See above.
Besides, riding a Segway would make it easy for Jolie to scoop up as many telegenic orphans as possible, while retaining maximum poutage and not straining her birdlike arms and collarbones. “Hang on, Maddox. Mommy sees a little Romanian up ahead.”
Just a thought.
DUDE. Brett Somers and Charles Nelson Reilly are TOTALLY the Waldorf and Statler of the GBC. Okay, picture it. A treehouse balcony with a MASH-stylie still in the back, Brett and Chuck just drinking and snarking and pinging pickled onions (don’t want to waste the olives) at Dawson…We’re talking PARADISE here, people.
GBC rules! So how many of you have your own personal GBCs and put people in them when they piss you off? Just me? OK …
Snort. Hee. Until Dawson’s motion-based vision caught up with Somers and Reilly, triangulated their positions, and enabled him to EAT THEM. Heh.
“Geez, Dawson, you need, like, a truckload of TicTacs…hey, where’re the old folks?”
“DAWSON!”
“you and Wing would be putting Bruce Wayne in the GBC for getting drunk and burning down his own house.”
BAH HA HAA!! Classic. I love Batman. He would have the greatest pink BatBike. With glitter training wheels. That have bombs in them. “where does he get those wonderful TOYS?”
And I love the GBC. I’m so happy we have comments on TN now so I can hang with other GBC lovers. Every single person in my everyday not-online life who I have pointed in the direction of GBC #1 and subsequent hilarity has responded with “oh. yeah. I read a few of them. …. I still don’t get it.” WTF???? It’s not rocket science. I though the Phil Collins -> paper route -> girl’s bike trajectory was pretty clear, actually…
*sigh*
It’s so hard being cooler than everyone I know. *… snerk*
Also? I would like Tim Gunn to record my outgoing voicemail message.
Dude, I veto my idea of the Girl’s big wheel club and heretofor nominate Jaybird’s idea of a Girl’s Segway Club, because the idea of Lindsey Lohan hitting 532 trees trying to operate it on her way back from Hyde is either really funny or really disturbing. Also, Britney and Paris on Segways is a mental image I will now treasure forever.
Also Kieght, I feel you on the “I’m the only one who gets GBC” feelings. I once tried to explain the premise of celebrities performing chicken fights on girls bikes to my husband and I was met with an eye roll, which I’m use to, but still… Putting Steven Seigal on a girl’s bike and having him face off with say Van Dam is an awesome thought to behold. Wouldn’t everybody find it amusing? Just us then???
Genny, I think my brother has you beat. He recorded George’s answering machine song from Seinfeld as his outgoing message thing. His name is Rodman. This made our mother very confused, as she thought that she had the wrong number for him and was actually getting some guy named George.
Oh yeah, I have to agree–segways! The mall security got them here and now they are the laughingstock of, well, pretty much everyone–behind their backs.
And I don’t tell anyone about the GBC anymore; they give me this look combining confusion and pity, as though they just discovered I’m deranged and in need of medication and/or restraints…I hate that look. So uncalled for. And, yes, when they do that, they each get a bike and membership card.
My husband LOOOOOOVES the GBC. Makes me proud.
My mom and dad used to have the “Whut we have heah is…failyuh to comyunicaite…some men, yew jes’ cain’t reach” bit from “Cool Hand Luke” on their outgoing message. It freaked out the Stepford hicks in their neighborhood, so they took it off.
oh, how I hate the “you crazy!” look. It’s FUNNY, people! just because YOU don’t get it doesn’t mean *I* am crazy…
Although my fiance, who did not get it after reading them, now loves the GBC because I forced him to listen to the album on a long car trip. I guess he couldn’t “get it” by reading. But he now frequently tells me to shut my folksy pie hole. (… hee)
Okay — I’m glad the cutesy answering machine messages aren’t in vogue any more. BUT, for a brief period there, I *did* have the MovieFone Guy as my answering machine message… sort of.
It was six years ago, and a male friend had just moved in as my new roommate. (By which I mean… roommate.) We had this answering machine that had different mailboxes for each person, that you could get by pressing a number — you know, press 1 for me, press 2 for him, whatever. Actually using this system (honest to god, why did we even bother? in retrospect) necessitated a message that was somewhat complex anyway.
Well, it turned out that Bill could do a dead-on impression of the MovieFone Guy. So we scripted it up, and he recorded the whole thing, including all the awkward pauses and strange cadence that you’d get from really calling MovieFone when new recorded bits were spliced into the existing bits. “If you’d like to leave a message for (HOLLY!), press (1!) now…” etc.
So after a while, once you debut a cutesy answering machine message, you kind of forget it’s on there.
Later that fall, I was in the process of interviewing for a new job. At one point the chair of the dept. I was interviewing for called my home number to leave a message for me about coming in for an interview.
When I got to his office for the interview with him and the other two professors in the dept., we had a very nice talk, and then at the very end, he paused and said, “Oh, wait a minute — (other two profs), you’ve GOT to hear her home answering machine.” Whereupon he dialed my home number, put his phone on speaker, and let it run through the whole thing.
I did get the job. And I’m still here. But lord, that answering machine went the way of the dodo long ago.
On the subject of cutesy answering machine messages, I have to admit to having that long, pretentious one from the end of Reality Bites on my voicemail. Thankfully few people ever call me, because I can’t seem to make myself get rid of it.
“(surname redacted) Mortuary, you stab ’em, we slab ’em. If you’d like to leave a message for (first name redacted), pound repeatedly on as many keys as possible and no one will get back to you.”
OR
“This is (surname redacted)’s refrigerator. I’ll take a message for (first name redacted) and stick it to myself so she sees it when she gets back. Stay frosty!”
These spent some serious time as my answering messages – about 100 years ago. I also thought about doing one where my cat or heffalump would take the message & stick it on the fridge.
Oddly, I never was able to get a job when they were on there…
A friend of mine (early 30s) STILL has a “This is (first name redacted). If you do not leave a message, I will not get back to you. If you do leave a message, I will not get back to you. Hang up now.” *BEEEEEP* message.