Tag Archives: Things CCB Says

Money-Saving Tips

Some of the ways I’m making $80 last two weeks this pay period.

Food:

Starbuck’s tasty Greek yogurt breakfast parfait with honey and the special no-sog packet of granola and slivers of toasted coconut? Easy enough: a big container of Greek yogurt, some honey (or agave nectar you have lying around after your homemade margaritas adventure), box of granola cereal and some shaved coconut. Mix the yogurt and honey in a Tupperware container, then lay some cellophane on top and put the granola and coconut in there.

yogurt

Put the lid on, and everything’s ready to go for whenever you wanna mix it all together.

Find things that are awesome and appetizing when reheated, and cook a shit-ton of them: Black beans and rice, brandied chicken breasts, spaghetti carbonara, stroganoff. The kicker for me is that they have to be super-appetizing, otherwise after-work dining out wins. Which tends to mean they’re pretty fattening, too. This is where money-saving runs headlong into calorie-saving. Money wins. As does my tummy.

Volunteer for food contest judging.

meatloaf

Gourmet lamb meat loaf with roasted tomato jam, goat cheese and asparagus risotto. For? Free.

We’ve got weekly contests for finding various local food “bests,” and week before last, it was meatloaf. I’m not saying it’s the healthiest thing to do, but traveling all over town to sample four different kinds of meatloaf saves you money on dinner, that’s for sure.

Likewise, embrace the work luncheons you’re obligated to attend.

chicken

Any time you’re getting free risotto, you’re doing something right.

I wasn’t exactly psyched about today’s cancer luncheon, but teriyaki chicken on creamy risotto with asparagus from the Ritz? Yeah, that’s a deal.

choc cake…oh, and there was chocolate cake.

Biking to the grocery store encourages limited and lightweight purchases. I am not a motivated enough beer-drinker to ride 4.5 miles with a case of Bud Light on my back. Plus, this works in favor of calorie-consumption, too.

Booze:

Invite considerate, lightweight friends over who will bring a 12-pack, drink one, and leave the rest for you.

Take a chance on a $2 hockey raffle ticket.

raffle beer

Hoptical Illusion alone is worth the $2. Plus: bonus mugs!

The key here is that “improving my chances” was too close to “throwing my money away,” so I took a single, low-risk chance and got myself eight fancy beers. Win.

And lastly, obey these booze-buying words of wisdom: “You should always think about cost per ounce vs. credit card interest.” In other words, don’t buy the smaller bottle just because you’re short on cash; put the handle on the Visa and congratulate yourself for being a smart shopper.

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Weird Wordstuffs

Been an odd week, starting with the full moon/ring ‘round the sun combo on Monday. It seems to be affecting us in weird ways, here in the World of Words. Grown professionals keep trying to use phrases like “golden shower” and “canoodling” in totally incorrect contexts.

And yet today I still know the perfect syntax for ordering my iced triple-grande nonfat vanilla latte.

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Yesterday McD described a group of dolphins (perhaps not incorrectly) as “cheeky.”

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An ESPN writer wrote that Lebron James’ passes are “as soft and buttery as croissants.” And thus was born the weirdest French pastry craving trigger in the history of behavioral science.

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During an interview with me on Tuesday, a man who was trying to identify himself as a “Francophile” accidentally called himself a “pedophile” instead. Try coming up with a follow-up question for that one.

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In another phone conversation with an older woman regarding a link in an email, she asked me, “And how will the two computers know each other?” Never before has my brain short-circuited me into paralysis. They should use that question as a counterterrorism technique. Cops should yell it at fleeing criminals instead of “Stop!” “This is the police: AND HOW WILL THE TWO COMPUTERS KNOW EACH OTHER.” And the criminals just fall down.

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ME: How did you measure the rum for this mai tai?

CCB: I just guessed.

ME: Y’know, we have a jigger.

CCB: Those always make me feel so racist.

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Oh, Adulthood

It’s a helluva balance. I think my astoundment really kicked in on St. Patrick’s Day, one of those blissful, leisurely whirlwind nights out that started with limerick recitations and plastic pints of beer, wound through hat-wearing Chihuahuas and shiny beads, through Mr. Deelio lounging on couches at the bowling alley and me falling over the ball return, through Irish car bombs and fried ravioli. We went to Wal-Mart; people fell down and sat in the ice machine. (OK, that was the same person.) We bought cheese, frozen hashbrowns, bacon, sugar-free Canadian sparkling scarywater, a case of Bud Light and Manischewitz.

Who goes to Wal-Mart at midnight and buys pork products and Seder wine? Us. We do.

And then I awoke in the Deelios’ condo at 3 a.m. to CCB chuckling, “There’s a Deelio in my bed!”

Fair warning, a good host (who has earlier fallen down and then sat in a Wal-Mart ice machine) will sometimes unknowingly wander into his guest room in the middle of the night and catch some Zs betwixt his guests.

CCB: “Dude, seriously, you’re such a cock block.

MR. DEELIO: “What am I doing in here?!”

Y’see, from that you might think I was living a life of irreparable degradation. Except:

Not a week later, I find myself at a granite conference room table. Others there: three company presidents (“The Triumvirate,” I call them), associate publisher, executive editor, production manager and the owner of the company, seated across from me, asking about the nature of special advertising sections in relation to editorial content, paper weight, polybagging,  year-round distribution, designing a cover to accommodate a promotional sticker used for newsstand sales,  edit-to-ad ratios, and the like.

EXECUTIVE 1: “We can’t use their logo on advertising pages.”

EXECUTIVE 2: “We’ll use ours.”

1: “Do we have a logo for this section?”

2: “We’ll make one.”

[ART DIRECTOR sighs and scribbles a note on her pad.]

It was like a masters class in magazines; like my freshman year when I signed up for a 400-level course about Middle English literature—I mostly sat quietly and tried to soak in everything that I could understand, but even managed to contribute here in there. “This line from Chaucer’s Troilus and Criseyde obviously directly influenced Shakespeare’s version of the story.”

“We’ve presented that information in sidebar Q&A format in the past; by contract, the disclaimer copy is supplied by the company.”

Maybe it was because it was 10 a.m. on a Friday and I was on my third cup of coffee, but I felt this strange sense of professionalism, like I’d opened the wrong door and stumbled into an established career while I was looking for my Burger King orientation class. I was wearing flip-flops, for god’s sake.

And so it goes, I guess: Afternoon PJs and Wii golf; production meetings and proof corrections.

Take a shot of tequila to help the trivia team’s turnaround; schmooze a benefactor at my table for a nonprofit luncheon.

Lift up my skirt to show my coworker the puck bruise on my thigh; interview a cardiologist at 3:30.

They’re nominating a couple of my stories for statewide awards. Imagine that. On Saturday I could go to Hungry Howie’s, sweaty and grass-stained in my soccer uniform, and then on Monday win a trophy at my job.

If they only knew…

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More Things CCB Says…

Succession.

ME: That long toe there means you’re royalty.
CCB: I am…a queen. In Belgium.

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Genetics.

ME:  If we had kids, they would have rockin’ calves.
CCB: They would have cankles. You know how two short people make a tall person?
ME: No, I don’t think two short people make a tall person.
CCB: THEY DO IN BEANS!

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Education.

By “street smarts” she means, “follow your tits to whoever’s staring at them.”

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34/34

ME: They just called Tony Stewart “Mr. Quickypants.” That’s totally your new nickname.
CCB: Aw, I don’t wanna be Mr. Quickypants. I want to be Mr. Awesomepants. Or Mr. Awesomesausage.

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Things CCB Says

Yes, sorry, it’s recycled content. But hopefully we can make this an ongoing collection…

Death of a nation.

CCB: There are 55 people in the U.S. named Hannah Wallace. There are 2,304 people in the U.S. named Steve Jones.
ME: I’m special.
CCB: My army would kill your army.
ME: My army would write poetry while it died.
CCB: My army would put all the Hannahs on little reservations. And let them open casinos

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Turn on a fan, dumbass.
While using cleaning products with improper ventilation

 It hurts me in the head on the inside.

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Dot dot dot (dot dot).

ME: There’s a tad too many periods in your ellipses.
CCB: I like……long dramatic ellipses.

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Necessity is the mother of invention.

CCB: I wish they could make something that I could spray that would put my clothes away and take out the trash.
ME: You could spray yourself back to the 50s and get married.
CCB: Nah. I’ll just spray myself with some get-off-your-ass-and-clean.

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Prep the epidural.
Pretending his beer gut is a pregnant belly:

 CCB: The twins are sleepy.
ME: Twins?
CCB: I hope it’s twins. Otherwise, that’s going to hurt.

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Time to cry?
Realizing he’d stayed up too late on a work night.

What do you call the time between Wednesday and Thursday? The time that sucks?

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Low tolerance.

You ‘can’t take Bud Light’?!  That’s like saying you can’t go outside because the air is too deadly.

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Blue Ribbon at the sideshow.
Re: his relative lack of chest hair.

It’s a contest. My back is winning.

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Apoplexy accompaniment.
After dragging me onto Splash Mountain.

You see? Listen to the happy music. [Beat.] You’re having a stroke, aren’t you.

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Lactose intolerance.

It’s easier to get too much cheese than to get too much whipped cream.

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Classy all around.

I’m going to club you to death with my penis if you fart on me again.

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Svantastic.

CCB: What’s “svelte”?
ME: It means crazy-thin.
CCB: Oh, that’s not me. Is there a “svat”? Can I be that?

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Primate ink.

CCB: I need more tattoos.
ME: What do you care about?
Pause.
CCB: Monkeys.

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Calling the Southern Anti-Defamation Alliance.

In-breeding leads to small penises.

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Abstinence.

ME: You’re a Virgo?
CCB: Yes. I’m waiting until marriage to change my Zodiac sign.

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On patience.

It’s like, say you just kidnapped Aaron Sorkin and said, “Write me a play!” You can’t come back five minutes later and say, “Bitch, is it done?”

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Foul demons.

That’s not me smelling. That’s the things I’ve told, “NO! You are not allowed in my body.”

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Nosy.

There was a kid staring at my wee-wee in the bathroom. I said, “Stop staring at my wee-wee. I smack you with it. Without even moving.”

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Betrayal.

CCB: My throat hurts. There’s a big thing in it.
ME: A big thing?
CCB: Yeah. I think it’s a monkey. [Pause. Frowns.] I don’t like monkeys anymore.

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Auto Parts.

ME: That’s what turn signals are for!
CCB: Is that what they’re for? I thought they were for blinky. Driving down the road: “ I want to blinky now.”

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Building character.

 Ooowwww. Hannah goes punchy punchy.

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Evolution.

I could be a cow and no one would notice, except I am a boy.

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Enablement.

I believe not drinking during the week has made my ability to get drunk easier.

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Corporate account.

What’s wrong with kittens?! I’m gonna start a business and our corporate card is going to have goddamn, motherfucking kittens on it!

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Divining rod.
Re: his buttonless boxer shorts (believe it or not).

My penis is like a…[makes a swimming fish gesture]…I don’t know what. One of those things that always finds a hole and…goes through it.

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Symbols.

Numbers yay! You and your letters. And these things you call words and sentences.

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Sports fans.

ME: We’re going to Nascar this weekend.
CCB: We’re going to drunk this weekend. And I think there’s going to be a race there.

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Tools of the trade.

You can’t solder a toilet back together without a beer!

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Too Favre.

Bret’s gotta start packing a cane so he can get off the fucking field.

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There’s always a catch.
In response to a KFC family meal commercial.

Look! We’re healthy! We have grilled chicken! Here, have a FUCKING CAKE!

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Warning Nemo.

ME: We should get a cat. Or a dog. Something snuggly. Something not a fish, ’cause fish aren’t snuggly.
CCB: Fish can be snuggly. Just only for a very short period of time.

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