The Legend of Weeva the Diva

Get Well Soon Weeva!

My friend Weeva is recuperating from surgery, so I thought that I’d tell you a little about her so you can send lots of Imodium love her way. As a note to my other friends: Don’t go and get hospitalized so I’ll write about you too! This is a one-time only,  isolated occurrence!

Weeva and I used to work together and we always had a blast. She’s twice as old as me but three times as crazy as and ten times more fun than almost anyone else I have ever worked with. The rearview mirror in her car is about three inches shorter than the Hubble Telescope but can see just as far. She has been known to rock a neck brace for no apparent reason, created her own hands free cell phone with duct tape on her steering wheel, and she’s a Dunkin Junkie that goes there multiple times a day for her fix.

At least she isn't texting while she drives...

When I say multiple times a day, I mean it. She lives in the building across the street and is in there more than some of the employees. She reads her morning paper there and one time a homeless guy took pity on her because he thought she was homeless too when he saw her there in a paint-splattered baseball hat and sweatpants.

If you think remembering the correct lyrics to REM’s “It’s The End of the World As We Know It” is tough – try remembering Weeva’s coffee order. She gets this humungous jug filled with half coffee, a quarter espresso, one part wolf tears, two parts parsnip, a half ounce of Columbian sugar cane, two hits of patchouli extract and a drop of kerosene. That isn’t the exact combo she orders, but it’s fairly close.

I am not a coffee drinker (need I remind you of my stomach and the reason this site is called Immodiumabuser? Me drinking coffee is like someone pulling the pin off a grenade!) so I’d get tea or Diet Pepsi. One time I went and forgot my note with her secret formula scratched on it and was about to turn around and go back when I randomly thought to ask the cashier. “On the off chance, do you know how to make the weird mixture for the crazy lady I work with…?” “You mean Weeva? Of course I know what she gets” and then she made it correctly. That was when I realized exactly how much time she spends in there.

Should be required reading for any movie lover!

Our local movie theatre was showing The Graduate and having a talk and signing with the writer Mark Harris, who was there to present his brilliant book Pictures at a Revolution: Five Movies and the Birth of a New Hollywood after the screening. It was a great book (If you’re a movie lover – this is a must read!) about the back stories of the five Best Picture nominees from the 1968 Academy Awards (of which The Graduate was one) and we both love The Graduate, so it was a no brainer. Mid-way through the question and answer section, a look of realization comes over her and Weeva nudge me and says (A little bit too loudly) “Oh my God, these people here probably think I’m your Ms. Robinson!” Picture me crying with laughter.

I'm all for trying a new look Weeva, but this is ridiculous!

 

One day she came in with a new short do and everyone was complimenting, but I knew. The next day, her hair was three times as long and more compliments. It made me realize that I work with the most polite people in the world or the most oblivious. After Weeva walked by, I looked over and said to Christine “You know that she’s wearing a weave, right? “What makes you think that?” she replied. “Are you kidding, her hair was shorter than mine yesterday and today it’s hanging past her ass…that’s not a sign?” “Really? Are you sure?”

My favorite Weeva story happened one day while they were renovating our building. They got us pink and blue hardhats embossed with the company logo for our client appointments during the construction and no one loved their pink hardhat more than Weeva. All of the Spanish guys on the crew used to always point and giggle as she pranced around because she rocked that plastic lid like a mini Donald Trump surveying the land.

As I was sitting at my desk in my god-awful cubicle, Weeva walked up and was standing next to me as I turned around. She had on slacks and a blazer and we were chatting as Renee walked up and said “Weeva, what’s that hanging out of the back of your pants?” Weeva turned to look and there it was – half a roll of toilet paper overflowing out the back of her pants and hanging well past her knees. She ran to the restroom grabbing at the mounds of paper and it actually took a few tries before she got it all out – while we were rolling on the floor hysterical laughing.

She came out of the bathroom laughing harder than any of us were and she was mortified, but not from us seeing it. “Oh my god, I haven’t been in the bathroom for over two hours – how long has that been like that? I had a client appointment and I went to Dunkin Donuts like that! No wonder all the guys on the construction team were laughing and pointing – this time it wasn’t the hardhat!” I can still see all that paper flying by me like a tail as she ran off…

This is similar to how much paper was hanging out the back.

Weeva – you rock it like no one else can and your weave always look good! Keep it up! If Scheherazade had 1,000 tales, you are my Supreme Princess of a thousand hairpieces, get better soon and remember CYA! Always cover your ass – you never know what’s hanging out of it!

Oh Canada, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways…

Let the record show that I have a really big crush on Canada! A few weeks ago I was reminded how much I love Canada when I went to Vancouver for a Trade Show. We went to the Granville Island Public Market and look what welcomed me and my friend Jenny-J (her actual CB Handle):       

TALK ABOUT IRONIC...WHAT ARE THE ODDS?

 

This is cereal called Holy Crap! How random and creative and crazy and fitting!!! Of course, I got it and brought it home for my Mother-in-law. It’s a vegan cereal and I knew she’d love it since she always eats healthy. I love the name and although I’m sure it tastes good, there is no way that I would ever try it because it’s primarily made from Chia and you know that old saying “Stay away from Chia or you’ll get diarrhea!”     

Chia, for the uninitiated – and I didn’t know what it was either so I googled it – is the world’s healthiest whole food and chock full of fiber so it’s literally like a stick of dynamite if you know what I mean. If you don’t know what I mean picture the last birthday party you went to where after Willy ate a few hot dogs, a cheeseburger, then had a healthy slice of Fudgie the Whale and a piece of Chocolate Cream Pie, and then ate a piece of Banana Cream Pie forcing him to miss the fireworks. He missed the fireworks because by eating all of that and essentially lighting a very short fuse, he “went to play Dig Dug in the basement”  – which is really code word for destroying the basement bathroom for forty minutes. Ring a bell? That’s Chia! Also, there is no way I’m putting anything that will make hair grow on a plaster bust of Homer Simpson in my mouth. Chia Pets might not be the same exact thing, but I’m not taking any chances! As I write this post my wife thinks it might be constructive to spread Chia on my scalp to combat my impending baldness. Isn’t it a little odd that people eat something that grows hair? Seems strange to me…but if eating Chia made my hair grow and supplemented the hard work of my thickening shampoos and Rogaine – I might just change my tune. Then you could trim my hair and use it as sprouts for your salad – Functional and healthy!    

Now, whenever someone asks my Mother-in-law if I give her any crap, she can say “yes” and really mean it! I can just picture the conversation while she’s eating: “What is that you’re eating, cereal?” “No, it’s Crap.” “Come on, what are you eating – Corn Flakes?” “No, really it’s crap.”     

I don’t get paid for any referrals, but if you would like to get your own bag of Crap (Holy Crap that is) check out their website Here. The owner, Corin Mullins, is super cool and this makes a great Birthday or Christmas gift! There’s also another saying that goes along with this: “Give the gift of Chia and the toilet they will see-a!”    

My love for Canada first started a few years ago when my wife and I drove to Quebec City. I’d always heard that it’s such a beautiful drive but I have no idea if that’s actually true since I slept through almost the entire car ride from Westchester, NY to the Canadian border. I was awake for a small portion of the ride, but I had taken my contact lenses out so I couldn’t see anything past the dashboard and we could have been in Albuquerque for all I knew. Don’t worry, it wasn’t a B.A. Baracus from The A-Team type of situation where I was drugged in order to travel – I’m just borderline narcoleptic. Put me into a reclining position or let my head rest back and it’s lights out. Not lights out instantly like Victor, but close to it. Right as we drove across the border we stopped at a rest stop mere steps into the country. As I walked into the men’s room, what do you think I saw on the bathroom floor? (No, not a pair of “just stepped out of but still holding a huge pile of shit” Hanes blue underwear from the men’s room at Mount Fuji in Suffern, NY! Literally a pair of soiled (Soiled? More like demolished!) underwear right in front of the toilet. Someone shit their pants, stepped out of the evidence, and then went back to their table for dessert! I couldn’t eat or drink a God Damn thing in that place for fear that the owner of that pair of abandoned soiled undies might be our waiter!) Right there on the floor of that Canadian bathroom was an Imodium AD tablet staring up at me; my very own welcome Ambassador to Canada! At that very moment, I knew that Canada was the place for me! Oh Canada – you spoke to me in the only language that I could possibly understand and came right at me with that little tablet of love!    

I would be remiss if I wrote about Vancouver and didn’t mention the homeless people. They might be some of the most creative and innovative marketers that I have ever encountered in my life. I will even go so far as to say that some of these people should be coming up with ad campaigns for Nike and Pepsi. Exhibit A: The man in this photo:    

Now this is how you market yourself!

 

As my friend Ja and I were leaving dinner and heading to another bar, we approached this fellow above wearing a very dapper top hat and holding an eye-catching sign that said: Penis Enlargement Went Horribly Wrong. Spare Change for Fancy Car to Compensate.” He looked me dead in the eye and said “Dude, I just don’t want to hurt anyone anymore.” I figured this poor soul had been through enough and I reached into my pocket and gave him ten bucks. He took the money and then he stood up and got out of the wheelchair! I had to pick my jaw up from the floor and I innocently inquired “you’re not really paralyzed?” He turned back toward me and leaned in and immediately I detected a subtle hint of spearmint on his breath which really surprised me and then he whispered “Dude, I’m out here all day and my back starts to hurt – I need a good chair to sit in!” I reached back into my pocket and gave him another ten bucks – this man is a genius! Forget anyone at the Trade Show, he was the most creative guy I had seen all day. At the next corner, there was a homeless guy pounding on a mailbox with his fists and thrusting at with his hips to keep the beat of the music. Poor guy must be just starting out and looking for his angle. A little tip that I learned right there on that street – no one pays to see a homeless guy hump a mailbox.      

The next night, a bunch of us went to another bar after the street party and we tore it up. I was like an inferno on the dance floor, so much so that I started grinding up on a mid-fifties Asian woman in the crowd. She was wearing an Ascot and I seductively untied it to swing it around like a flag, but I couldn’t swing it because it was so soaked with sweat that it was heavy as a sponge. After vomiting in my mouth just a little bit, I handed the scarf back to her and then she walked away only to come back seconds later with her elderly friend that I could only assume was her older sister or her mother. She put her friend’s hand in mine and said “Now it’s her turn with you” and I looked her right in the eye and then started to rock her world as I lit it up again. Another satisfied customer!    

As we were leaving that bar, we saw a different homeless guy working a different angle: He was letting you kick him in the balls for 20 bucks! We looked over at this girl who took her flip-flop off and really let him have it. She had a wind up like David Beckham and he went down groaning. He must have made a hundred dollars while we were standing there, but I don’t care – there’s got to be an easier way.    

Another homeless guy was standing outside a restaurant as a few friends came out and he approached them and his angle was honesty. He walked right up to them and said “Hey guys, you got a few bucks so a Bum can get a beer?” They gave him money and then he let them record him saying that into one of their cell phones so that every time it rings you now hear his voice saying “Hey guys, you got a few bucks so a Bum can get a beer?” He knows what works and sticks with it.  

Forget about the Hookers, it’s really competitive out there for the homeless guys in Vancouver! The smart ones line up near a busy Japadog truck and work the crowd. I don’t really get the Japadog thing and I actually almost threw up as my friend Heather scarfed one covered with seaweed down – I don’t know what it tastes like but it looked like shit. I mean what is really Japanese about a hot dog anyway? And who wants to eat a hot dog covered with seaweed? Is it Kosher too? Who came up with this you might ask? I’m much too lazy to look it up and I’m really not that invested or curious about finding it out, but if I had to guess – I would say that it was a homeless guy from the streets of Vancouver! Like I said – I love Canada!