Thursday, October 31, 2013

Happy Halloween from TPSF; featuring the Resurrection of My 10 yr old Rented JLo Butt

Hey folks - Happy Halloween!  Halloween always reminds me of my third Sophomore year at Ole Miss. You may remember this story I told on Toe Pick awhile ago and if not I am hurt here's a refresher:

It was a cool, foggy San Francisco night.  The crickets were chirping, the lulu lemon clad Marina gurls were emerging from their yoga classes and somewhere in the Tenderloin a homeless man was blowing a snot rocket.  I had recently moved into a new apartment and was immersed in a riveting episode of Family Guy. I had been putting off unpacking for a few months couple days. During a commercial break I casually glanced toward my unpacked suitcase.  My body jolted upright in high alert (nearly knocking over my plate of General Tso's) and my eyes widened as I noticed two bulges from the outer pocket of the tattered carry-on.  Wrought with curiosity, I unzipped the side pocket - and there she was.  The J. Lo butt I'd rented from Redneck Costume Barn on Halloween a decade ago at Ole Miss.  I must have subconsciously decided to keep it as a memento - although I do not know why, that thing cost me 16 bones to rent, plus 35 dollars for "losing" it.  Visions of that fateful night flooded back to me and I began reminiscing of a time when I was decked out in J Lo garb - donning a Juicy Velour jumpsuit, hair tightly pulled back in a bun, hoop earrings the size of the equator, approximately 18.4 pounds of bronzer on my face and THE BUTT.  As the evening progressed The Butt gradually fell lower and lower - and I struggled to keep it in tact. But by God, she survived. And here she is today (pictured atop JLo and me) - I apologize for the blurry picture; please don't shart with me.

I distinctly remember speaking to the Redneck Costume Barn salesperson on the phone about a week later.  She called me to inquire about the whereabouts of The Butt.  I searched far and wide, but couldn't find it amongst the rubble in my room at my apartment  in the projects at the beautifully chic and manicured University Commons.  The woman scolded me and I was upset about it then, but not now.  The Butt is a trophy of sorts from some of the breast years of my life.  I wonder if i could take it to a taxidermy place and have it stuffed and mounted on my wall? Can't a girl dream?

This year I continued my tradition of dressing up like a shallow celebrity gurl...I felt like it was only fitting for me to pay homage to Amanda Bynes as she has provided me with hours of entertainment over the past year. That said, I am glad she is finally getting the help she clearly needs.

Happy Halloween, y'all!  Cawl me.

xo, Nige

Monday, October 21, 2013

True Life: I Crossed the Line on Tinder and Lived to Write About It

I feel it is only appropriate for me to begin this post by paying my respects to Hans (the creator and Godfather of Haribo gummi bears)  since Toe Pick has been the primary platform on which I have consistently declared my unbounded love for The Bearz.  RIP Hans - your beary tasty creations have been an enormous part of my life and will continue to be for years to come.  Your legacy lives on in my dental bills I still need to pay.  God bless you.  HaRIPo, Hans.  HaRIPbo.  (Thanks to Manton for coining this term.)

We will miss you, Hans
 And now back to our regularly scheduled program:

I clumsily stumbled down the aisle of the plane, bumping people’s heads with my tattered, half-zipped suitcase (thereby exposing my wine-stained bridesmaids dress) as I disorientedly searched for my seat number: 32A.   As I made the poverty march toward the very rear of the plane I began to feel shaky and doomed.  And so began my downward aviatophobic spiral into despair...

“S’cuse me,” I muttered to the 2 worms people sitting in my row.  “I-I’m by the window.”  The two looked up at me and took notice of my disheveled hair which had been tousled into a state of tangled disarray as a result of some very aggressive headbanging at my friends wedding reception the night before.   I took my seat and looked out the window, savoring my last few moments on the ground.  I was already an emotional mess after having said goodbye to my very best friends who I rarely see.  This combined with my intense fear of flying and a terrifically severe hangover proved to be too much for my already fickle nervous system to withstand.  I flung my purse underneath the seat in front of me, prompting the lady ahead of me to stir.  As we prepared for takeoff I could feel my heart rate begin pick up speed. I clutched my armrest (consequently knocking my neighbors arm off of it) and began to breathe heavily and obnoxiously as though I was participating in a special Olympics Lamaze class.    

My neighbor (let's call him Oscar, because he was a fucking grouch) shot me some pretty frightening side glances as I looked up and audibly silently freaked out as the plane jolted and jerked its way into the air.  The first half of the flight was a blur.  I remember trying to hold Oscar's arm 5 or 16 times and looking to him for solace any time we hit even the slightest bit of turbulence. But the minute my tear-filled eyes met his he immediately pulled his ginormous headphones over his ears.   There he sat, deadpanned, lost in his music. I didn't really blame him - I was definitely a sight to behold. My crinkled false eyelashes from the wedding clung to my eye lids, struggling to hold on - refusing to give up hope even though they were pretty much done for.  Metaphorically speaking, it was likeI was my false eye lashes. 

It took awhile for the stewardesses (uh, pardon me - flight attendants) to near the back of the plane with the beverages.  By the time they reached us, the flight had gotten unbearably bumpy, and I had started to cry.  I thought about ordering a cocktail to try and soothe my nerves but ended up opting against it as my dear liver had been through enough over the weekend.  I knew I needed some comfort though.  So when the stewardess asked me if I wanted a  drink I looked up at her like a frightened puppy and cried harder as I asked her how much longer we had.  The drink cart swayed as we hit more turbulence and at that point I had resorted to praying, even though I'm not a religious person - not even a little bit, not even at all. 

 "We've probably got another 2 hours, sweetheart.  You okay?  Is it a boy?  If it is - he's not worth your tears." 

"No!  For once it's not about a boy.  I hate flying." I stammered.  "Like, I really, really hate it." ( remember this post --> duh.)

Oscar looked up at the stewardess as well as if to say "Please do something about this mess next to me."

"Here.  Come back with me and I will get you a cold compress." 

Long story shart, I spent the remainder of the flight sitting in the tail of the aircraft betwixt two concerned US Scare flight attendants, donning a cold compress on the back of my sore neck.  I deboarded the plane feeling relieved.  Even though I'd lost a set of fake eyelashes and my dignity, I felt proud of myself for making it through another fucking flight without perishing.

Why is this story relevant?  Welp, I'll tell you.  Every time I fly I think about my karma.  These kinds of thoughts go through my head: This plane's going to crash because I insert something bad here.  Last time I flew and had a mini-freakout I decided to retire my FuglyMuniShoes segment (REMEMBER?) and resolved to stop making fun of people I see on public transportation in a conscious effort to garner better karma.  So this time I thought about retiring my tinder segment but then realized that would be the biggest mistake of my life so quickly ruled that out and decided I would give up social smoking for a weekend in February instead.  So - without further ado, I bring you Toe Pick VS Tinder Part 4.  If you missed the first 3 toe pick VS tinderz and  need an explanation as to how this all goes down just click herehere and here. OK:

The Gurl who only communicates via N'Sync lyrics: 
No explanation needed.

The Gurl who Spits Out Complete Nonsense.
My favorite prankster, Jack Vale does this bit on YouTube where he drives around random parking lots spewing out nonsense to random people.  It tends to make people feel a little crazy. (Click here to watch my idol in action and to laugh your arse off) Jack Vale's antics were my inspiration for this tinder gurl.  Have a look:

Oh.  Hi Ajit.

Hi Ali.  Bye Ali!

Debbie Downer
This Tinder Gurl is plagued by constant problems. Simply put: Deborah Downer was dealt a shitty hand and she has no problem venting to whoever will listen to her.  

Mike is such a jokester.  Debbie doesn't find him funny and instead feels threatened.  

Chris is sensitive, persistent and doesn't seem fazed by Debbie's complicated life.
                                                                 *come in the form of tiny*  (sorry- the text was cut off)

 Jason hearts Debbie 

Ali finds my predicaments to be haha inducing

The Immature Sheltered Gurl who asks really personal questions

I struggled with whether or not to feature this one because it's gross.  Also - you can't really tell from Barrett's pic but he is quite the bulky one.  Looks like B likes to hit the gym a time or eleven. 

the ToePick Tranny

The Contaminated Gurl who won’t be Objectified.  

(She also contracted lice from her cousin Debbie Downer)

The Cliche Gurl.  
This gurl only communicates via cliche's.  Suhas doesn't seem fazed by the fact that Cliche Gurl has a husband.  #ShameOnSuhas

The One Upper who is also a commitment-phobe
If you've done something, this girl has done it better.  It's just that simple.  She is based on Penelope - a character played by Kristin Wiig on SNL (watch her in action here).  She is terrifically obnoxious.


Hi Jess.  I'm better than you!

...and that's all she wrote.  Have a great week and I'll catch ya later!

xo, Nigel