Tag Archives: new york city

10 things you should know about Reginald VelJohnson

1. Per the below photo taken from his twitter, I don’t think he enjoys wearing pants.  See: pants in the background on the ottoman with the belt still in tact.

We can also conclude #2 from this photo, in that he enjoys wearing snuggies while not wearing pants.  That royal blue fleece material you see in the background is particular of said snuggies.

Number 3 comes to us from Reg Vel’s bedroom.

 Reg Vel told us on twitter that his bedspread caught on fire because he had his laptop on top of a lighter.  So, either A: Reginald VelJohnson likes to enjoy a smokey smoke after sexytime with Mrs. Reg Vel… or B: he was getting high and looking at this picture of Lil Wayne with the Bieb’s hair that “tickles” him.

4. Reg Vel’s twitter puns are getting better by the day:

seriously tho, I can’t wait to eat this sushi #shrimplythebest #calimarimoon #crabtownraces #koimeariver #likeasturgeoun #embarrassingmyself

If Osama bin Laden was a Japanese food, he’d be Osama bin Ramen

5. Rev Vel attends the BET awards every year.  I know what you’re thinking.  He claims it just smells like weed and hairspray though.

6. Rev Vel truly enjoys thinking outside of the box.  He did so with the hit movie “Mean Girls” where he claims if you watch it backward it’s just about a girl that becomes so unpopular she moves to Africa.

7. In his old age Reg Vel thinks that Tim Tebow’s name is actually JIM Tebow. Lolz.

8. Jaleel White (Steve Urkle) and Reg Vel still keep in touch.  Sometimes The Reg tweets to Jaleel White, but JW seems to be on some other shit.  You’re better off Reg.

9. Some Reg Vel fan sites claim that donuts got their holes because every time a donut is made Reg Vel shoots the hole through the middle.  They also claim that The Reg doesn’t walk, he rides Chuck Norris piggy back regulating Chuck’s direction and pace with Urkle’s suspenders. Bad. Ass.

10. In 2010 Reg Vel made a movie called Sex Tax.  You be the judge.

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Ok Neal, I forgive you!

Monday night Lucky and I were BBMing whilst watching Most Eligible Dallas, a guilty pleasure for us both.  We were freaking out over Courtney and Matt’s so hot hot tub kiss and moments later getting pissed at Courtney ruining it by opening up her big ugly mouth.   Which got us on the topic of hot kisses and hot guys which ultimately lead to us talking about my one true love, Neal Bledsoe, and how my facebook friend request is still pending nearly 1 year (10 months, to the day) later.  

Lucky tried making me feel better by insisting he was in a part of the world where he didn’t have internet access or that he’s been busy working.  But we all know that’ s a lie, his profile picture is different.

Part of my New Year’s resolution is going to be to let the past be the past and not hold grudges, to some extent, Douchearoo and Snoop-Linus?  Grudge.  The girl in my sorority who told on me for having hot Australians back to the sorority house one night, which ultimately got me “sober ride” duty for 3 weekends?  Forgiven.  

So I figured why not try this new and improved Gizzy out with Neal?  It can only help.  So, Neal Bledsoe… I know you google yourself and you will read this, this is Gizzy speaking, I forgive you for not accepting my friend request, even though it’s probably the biggest mistake you’ve ever made… cauuuse I think you’d like my goods.  Just saying.  Your loss, you’ll regret this, but I forgive you.

Don’t worry though, I’m not going to cancel my friend request just in case one day he decides to accept me, and propose to me, and have some sex with me, or eat some chicken, whatever, I’ll be there.

Wow, I sound like a stalker. 


Wouldn’t it be funny if I actually did meet Neal Bledsoe one day and we like, fell in love and I was like omg guess what I used to hate on you so bad on my blog and always talked about how you were such a jerk for not accepting my facebook friend request yet so so hot at the same time?  And he’d be like, YES Gizzy… that is soooo funny, aren’t you glad you were wrong and I’m like the nicest guy ever?  And I’d be like yeah and then we’d make out.

So if you ever come here and one day Cocktails At Tiffany’s is just gone out of thin air, it’s because I met Neal Bledsoe and he CAN NEVER KNOW ABOUT THIS.  And you and I, we can’t be blog friends anymore.

So my boss is on vacation for the next week and I am soOoOoOoOoO excited!  I was telling Lucky that I feel like a teenager whose parents finally decided it was ok to leave me at home alone for the weekend.  Like I was acting like a child.  I ate so much candy that I gave myself a stomach ache, talked to my friends all day, and googled things I shouldn’t have been while at work, I even left early yesterday and gave the office a big su-fi as I walked on the elevator.  I mean my boss like NEVER takes vacation and it’s the most annoying thing ever.  Like I always feel like when she is there I have to be working hard in case she walks around the corner, I don’t want her seeing me on facebook, playing games, or looking up flights to go visit Lucky.  Not only is she giving herself a vacation for the next week, she’s giving me a vacation too! WAHOO!!!!

Back track!  I just spent more time then I care to admit googling Neal Bledsoe to find out if he is single and if I should seriously be on the prowl, and he’s not.  He has a girlfriend… for like years.  And she’s like 9 feet tall, blonde, and gorgeous.  CHRIST! Just when you think things are starting to turn around.   I’m done.  I’m just done.  I’m going to stop wasting my time on all these hot men and just start reading the encyclopedia.   Reading the encyclopedia = FAIL.

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Don’t lie to customs, don’t throw your blackberry at a barracuda, and most importantly don’t drink the water. PART DOS MON!

Don’t send out the search party. (unless it’s a hot guy with abs and a full head of hair) for I have returned.  I got back from the family cruise and stayed at my mom’s house all of 2 days before I was jet setting again.  Most likely I’m not going to seriously start looking for a job until I have spent all my money and sink low enough to rob my little sisters piggy bank.  I kid, I kid.  I would never do that and shatter her lifetime dreams of purchasing her first American Girl doll with her very own money.  Somehow at the ripe old age of 6 she has managed to save $76.  My mom asked her where she got it all because to her knowledge she only had $20 left over from her birthday money.  Ella (that’s my sister) told her that a while ago I gave her a smiley face piggy bank filled with money.  Bomb.

Anyway, my old college friend/sorority sister/partner in crime BabyVic and I concocted a master plan that I should make a trip to her city of residence (let’s hear it for Chi-townnnnnnn) and look for jobs.  All previous knowledge I have of Chicago is that it is expensive, there’s no parking, and boasts the best pizza I have ever tasted (Lou Malnati’s for anyone who wants to give it a whirl.) But I thought what the hell, I have a little bit of money and no responsibilities lets take another week long vacation to Chicago to “job hunt.”  Mom’s bought the story so off I went.  I completely realize that I am 25 and should stop acting like I’m 21 and some free spirit.  It’ll happen, eventually.  Really, BabyVic and I just sat on the deck of her high rise apartment building overlooking the lake and drank the week away.  I did a good deed and applied for 2 jobs – but I’m not expecting to hear anything. The highlight of the week was when we went to a bar downtown called theory and ran into a few people we knew from college, who were with a few other people they knew from college.  We all got to introducing ourselves and what not and I was aimlessly rambling at this guy, we’ll call him BRO until later in the story.  So Bro and I are throwing back shooters, laughing, having a gay old  time.  He asked for my number so I say give me yours and I’ll call you.  I ask for his last name and he tells me my name is BRO MCHOTTERSON.   What.  At this point my brain fills with stories I had heard from HOTTIE MCHOTTERSON about him and his brother BRO who lives in Chicago and all the fun stuff they would do.  Well, I asked and it was true.  Some how in the lucks of all lucks I met HOTTIE’s brother and managed to ho-bag my way into him asking for my number.  Just for safe measure I asked if his brother was HOTTIE MCHOTTERSON who attends Shit University and he said yes, so I said I couldn’t talk to him anymore.  Then, he put it all together.  Ooooohhhh…. you’re THAT Gizzy.  That Gizzy, that girl.  Same thing.  We laughed it off and I’m pretty sure the drunker I got the more I told BRO about how much I still like HOTTIE and I’m also pretty sure he was texting HOTTIE the whole time.  I can’t win with this guy, even when I’m in a different state any chance I have with him walks up slaps me in the face and then takes a giant shit right on top of me.  I’m getting pretty tired of this mockery.

I just can’t even talk about HOTTIE anymore.  Even being friends with him is up there on the list of things that will never happen right along with the resurrection of my blackberry.

Back to part 2 of what I actually meant to be rambling about instead of my life’s mishaps.  Some highlights of the trip that aren’t necessarily stories:

*I walked through a bar on the boat one night, looked on the dance floor, and saw Cousin Dumber on the dance floor in his boxer-briefs wearing a ladies bra and lipstick doing a backflip.  Now, I don’t know what was going on and I don’t think I want to.

*We decided to take Cousin D to senor frogs.  She was 18 (the legal drinking age in the Bahamas.  WOOHOO!) and had just graduated high school, thinking back to when I graduated high school Lucky and I were having run in’s with the cops and almost getting arrested because of drinking so I’m sure it wasn’t her first taste of alcohol.  Me, Cousin D, Uncle L, Cousin Dumb, Cousin Dumb’s wife, and Cousin Dumber all went to the frog where we each got a yard.  That’s 3 feet of margarita goodness.  She finished her yard in about 5 minutes so when Uncle L (the chaperone, because 3 25 year olds and a 28 year old aren’t good enough) wasn’t looking I got her another yard.  Then we did the conga line and took 5 more tequila shots, then got on stage and danced the macarena and got another yard.  From what my pictures tell me she passed out in the elevator, crawled up the stairs, passed out on the stairs, and ended the night with her mom holding her hair back.   I like it.

*Everyone has a few drinks one night we layed out on top deck to watch the meteor shower and then decided to go to the 24 hour pizza station.  We’re all sitting there when Aunt T finally says, “OK! I can’t stand this anymore.  Does anyone else smell the pot?”  Of course, we all feel awkward because Cousin Dumber who is also 25 has spent most of his 20’s in jail because of the pot. She takes another bite of her pizza and busts out laughing, “IT’S THE PIZZA IT’S THE PIZZA! WE’RE ALL EATING POT PIZZA!” My family is a bunch of crackheads, the pot jokes went on for a good 20 minutes, Aunt V was laughing so hard she was crying while Aunt P and Cousin Dumb rolled individual oregano joints in napkins and lit them up.  I really wonder how we didn’t get kicked off.

All in all it was a decent trip, I had fun until we got back.  Everyone got through the customs line and we were heading to get our luggage when 2 officers approached me.

Officer:  Buy some BAAAGS while you were away?

Me: BAHAHA Yeah, a few.

Officer: Are you aware that those are copy written and I could confiscate the bags, take you to jail, and you would have a record?

Me:  Take the bags?????

Officer (looks at my mom and aunts):  Did anyone else buy any BAAAAAGS?

Everyone shook their head no.  Bitches.

Officer:  Ma’am I’m going to need you to come with me.  And bring your BAAAAGS.

They tossed me in a room with no windows JUST LIKE you see in the movies, like I was a criminal.

Officer:  These BAAAAGS are counterfeited.

Me: I’m aware of that.

Officer:  How much do you think these run in the stores?

Me: Like $1,000

Officer:  And you paid?

Me: $50.

Officer: Mmhmm.

Me:  Have you ever been to New York?  They sell these on canal street you know, it’s not just in the Bahamas.

Officer:  Who do you know on canal street? Ya smugglin’ some bags for your homies to sell back in NYC? (Mind you, I’m not ghetto in the least, I’m 5’5, 120 pounds with long brown hair, I wear dresses and high heels so this guy can spare me with his homie garb and take it back to Jamaica mon, and get me a goddamned Cuban cigar while you’re there. I couldn’t buy one in the Bahamas because THOSE are illegal.  Bastard.)

Me: Uhhhh.  I bought 2?

Officer:   Give me your passport and write down your last 5 addresses.

Me: Whaaaatttt?

Officer: I’m going to need to investigate this further, you can go to jail and have a record for fraud, you bag smuggler.

Me: I’m not smuggling any bags, just take them.  I just graduated college.  I have no money to buy the real thing.

Officer:  I’m going to need you to take off your shirt.  (Totes kidding)

He let me leave after that.  There was a little more irrelevant conversation that went on about my family’s teeth and my last STD screening but I’m still not sure if I am wanted by the government for bag smuggling or what the deal is. He said he would contact me with any further questions so I gave him my cell number and forgot to mention that my cell had gotten eaten by a barracuda. So if I go missing please come look for me in the Bahamian prison because I will surely be expedited and given only my Louis duffel to survive.

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