Pajiba

There was the time I was a man-whore, and crushed the spirits and hurt anyone who was involved with me personally. Pretty sure thats like Two and a Half Men.....

For a real answer: I don't know if it was on a sitcom, but seems like it should have been. And its also bathroom related and disgusting. I went number 2, and flushed. Only it clogged, and was going to overflow. And there was no plunger. I had two options, run away and never look back. Or use my hand. I took the manly route and fixed the clog, then washed my hands for a few minutes.

Last night myself, a couple of my friends and my girlfriend were studying for finals in a big lecture hall. We were all sitting several seats/rows apart to spread out.

My girlfriend sneezed and before I had a chance to say "bless you" my friend jumped in and said it first. She is usually a multiple sneezer so I was going to wait a second but he jumped in right away and said it first.

Exactly like that episode of Seinfeld where George says "bless you" to a married woman in front of her husband at dinner and the guy freaks out. Except I didn't really care.

Well my whole life is like if Liz Lemon worked at Dunder Mifflin. If you watch The Office or 30 Rock, that should paint a pretty good picture of my personality and my day-to-day existence.

I woke up 20 minutes late for a college final I call Music Theory III, or, shit gets real now. Turns out my phone died in the night and the alarm didn't go off (cue laugh track). I literally ran a mile to campus through the mean streets of NYC, almost got sideswiped by a brigade of taxis (cue laugh track), and walked into the room right before the professor played the audio portion of the exam for the last time (cue raucous applause). I literally would not have been able to pass without hearing the music as it was 40% of the grade. The professor greeted me with a snide comment (cue laugh track), handed me the exam, and I montaged my way through the whole thing in 10 minutes (not an exaggeration, six minutes of listening/response, some advance counter-point correction, a one paragraph essay on hemiola, and a bonus question about the Beatles using hemiola). I aced it. Freeze frame on me jumping in the elevator in a pose of pure victory (cue theme music).

Not so much sit-com, but Lifetime movie, when you feel like nothing else bad can happen, then it does. I had a couple of years like that. People kept getting into car accidents, getting cancer, dying, etc, and I was sick with anaemia and a couple of nasty chest infections.

Any evening with my grandmother is like a sit-com with that one old lady who says mean things to one particular dead beat grandchild. It would be funny to watch, but it's not so funny when you're on the receiving end, and you're not actually a dead beat, and your grandmother is basically telling your that you're fat and stupid and lazy, when you're not...

My roommate's boyfriend locked himself out of our house. When he jumped the fence to see if a back door was unlocked by chance, the neighbor saw him and called the cops. He was handcuffed and put in a squad car, then driven to my roommate's (law) office so she could ID him and give him a key. Then he locked his keys in his car. Sit-com to the max.

I was sitting in the car, parked in a gas station, while a female friend had an argument with her boyfriend over the phone. Now, not only did the two of us have a confusing romantic history, but her current boyfriend was an out-of-state illegal alien with a tenuous grasp on the English language, who once threw her down the stairs when she had a pregnancy scare. The fight was over -- what else? -- communication.
I had changed the radio station away from her favored country/western to alternative rock. I thought as long as I was gonna be waiting for the fight to finish, I should listen to music I liked. Right as she got back in the car, the fight over and her phone shut off, we drove out of the gas station while another song began:

Take my photo off the wall
if it just won't sing for you
'cause all that's left has gone away
and there's nothing left for you to prove

Oh, look what you've done
you've made a fool of everyone
Oh well, it seems like such fun
until you lose what you had won...

As soon as it began, I thought, "Oh shit, not this song." But I didn't change the station, and neither did she. She didn't say a word until the song was over.
And...well, the rest of the story is too long to tell here.

In a case of life imitating art, I have been trying to assemble a "Community" style study group. But I think the Shirley I was scouting dropped the class.

More crappy movie than sitcom, but about a year after a pretty devasting break-up, my ex-boyfriend, who had moved out-of-state for grad school, and I met for lunch one day while he was back in town visiting family. As we were leaving the restaurant, this street musician took one look at us and started singing When Will I See You Again. We awkwardly said goodbye and I went back to work my office drone job feeling like any chance at love or romance was lost to me forever.

Diablo, having done two WESTPACs, I can commiserate with you on Groundhog Day.

Being a cop is rarely like COPS. Most of the time it is either boring or humorous, with the occasional moments of excitement you see on what I like to call "what not to do." The bad can be bad, but the good can be absolutely hilarious. We have a good time- not as crazy as Supertroopers or anything, but good times.

One of the good times I recall occurred on a day it snowed, which is unusual most of the time. On this night, we were introduced to the sleds each car came equipped with- the back seat. We found a steep hill late at night where nobody was watching and went sledding. Somehow we escaped without breaking any bones, which was certainly in doubt when sledding straight toward your bumper on a sheet of ice.

During a rocky time in a college relationship, I flew up unannounced to try to save what I thought at the time to be true love. I showed up at her dorm as she was getting ready for a lip synching contest of some sort-she was dressed as a back up singer-A pip perhaps? I opened the door, the entire room went silent, she gasped and ran to me, and there was an actual slow clap. True love triumphs!

I was dumped two months later.

Man I would not want to be a substitute teacher these days. 15 Years ago we kind of messed with you, but for the most part let you teach. I can't imagine what goes on with the sociopaths these days. Either that or texting all the goddamn time.

90% of my conversations with two of my best friends run like Gilmore Girls scripts.

I also had a day a few weeks ago where I hadn't slept in about 48 hours and had been irritated by a couple friends for a while and basically lost it on them. And then I stopped making sense mid-rant and started sobbing and going "I'm so tired, you guys. So tired" a-la Liz Lemon in the Designing Women episode of 30 Rock.

I got on a bus in Holland. My Dutch was iffy and sometimes my previous knowledge of Spanish messed up my Dutch (don't ask me how that works, but it happened). I attempted the Dutch word for station but apparently it came out sounding more Italian. The bus driver said "Italian?" and for some reason I said, "Español". I guess I thought he was asking if I was speaking Italian and I was trying to say I was using Spanish (though really I'd been attempting Dutch). Then he said something about España and I said "Mexico". I only said that as an explanation of where I'd learned Spanish--which is dumb because really I learned in college except for a 3-week summer course in Mexico. Then he started speaking to me in Spanish and I realized he thought I had said I was from Mexico. I was so far in at that point that I just let him think that and we chatted briefly in Spanish until I got off at the station. Hey, at least I got to my chosen destination. I left the bus thinking it was a very Seinfeldian thing to just outright lie to someone about who I was and pretend to be a Mexican when I'm really just a little blond gringa from Texas.

Silly rabbit; of course wiping the knife on "vacant" bread doesn't get it completely clean.
At the least, near-microscopic remnants of peanut butter will cling to the knife, and will be introduced to the jelly jar.
So you are wrong, and should be made into a stew.
No, no... it's okay-- you'll taste like chicken.

I have an aunt that had a tendency to publicly express pity for me when I was in my late twenties and single. Stuff like, "So, do you think you'll ever get married?" in front of large groups. I have another aunt in her late eighties who is spunky as all hell. Rides in a motorcycle sidecar, makes muscles for people, etc. During one such humiliation session, she leaned over to me and said, "Honey, don't you worry. You just hold out for a man with a heart of gold and a dick of steel." I think a studio audience would have loved it as much as I did.

Somedays, I feel like I'm working on the Island of Misfit Toys and I am their Queen.

In the Seinfelidan tradition, I used to get asked the coat question all the time. It usually went like this:

Them: "Do you want to take off your coat?"
Me: "No, I'm fine."
Them: "OK."
(thirty seconds later)
Them: "Are you sure you don't want me to take your coat?"

I have solved this problem by wearing a fleece. Apparently, fleece does not violate whatever coat rule there is.

In what I assume is the Two and a Half Men tradition (situations that aren't actually funny, but seem like they were thought up by a sitcom writer), I have lost two boyfriends to the same girl.