Posts published during January, 2006

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S-C-R-A-B-B-L-E

“Baby, when are you gonna blog about how I always beat your ass at Scrabble?”
- Angelface, Circa Sunday night

Although I’m ashamed to admit this for both personal and professional reasons, I’m going to be candid here: I am a loser.

A writer by profession, I realize there are certain things people come to expect of me. I’m supposed to read books (I do), and I’m supposed to be good at spelling (I am), and above all else – because words are my passion, my raison d’etre – I’m supposed to kick all kinds of ass in Scrabble.

I’m having a little trouble with the latter.

You see, not once, but twice now Angelface has proved himself a worthy adversary in wordplay and has beat me – like my name was Rodney effing King – at the most Hänni-friendly board game ever created.

This hurts, mostly because Angelface – throughout the duration of his entire life – has only played Scrabble twice.

In case you are bad at math, this means, that at Scrabble, Angel roolz and Hänni droolz… but I digress.

The first time Angel beat me, it was really bad –like beating me by 100pts or a triple-word-score for “quilts” bad. The second game though, I really thought I had a chance. If only The Face would’ve given me “Zocrates.” But Angel said Zocrates wasn’t a word. “Yes it is,” I retorted, “Zocrates was an Athenian teacher and the founder of the Zocratic Method!”

Unfortunately this argument was not persuasive –Angel is very well informed about Socrates and the Socratic Method, because he took philosophy in college….Plus he’s seen Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure like 50 times.

So yeah, Angel also wouldn’t accept:

  • “Le” because it’s French and the French are bastards.
  • “Telly” because it’s British and those people talk funny English.
  • “Ownly,” because, even though I”m fairly certain it’s in the Redneck Dictionary, Angel couldn’t find it in Webster’s.

Interestingly enough, even though Angel seemed to have a problem with the foreign words mentioned above, he did let me have “yen.” “I can’t believe it,” I said. “You’re going to allow yen?” “Of course I am baby,” Angel replied, “it’s the Chinese dollar.”

I started to tell Angel he was wrong –the yen is actually Japanese, but I stopped myself. Unless I was able to pull a “boner” on triple-word-score I was going to lose, and I needed those six-effing-points.

boner.jpg

At the end of our game, after 14 grueling rounds, Angelface calculated our totals.

At the bottom of his column he wrote 181.

At the bottom of mine, he recorded a score of “dumbass.”

15 comments

The Truth

I’d like you to think I’m wearing a sassy, pink armband today because I’m kind of a Punk Rawk Princess, (and gurls like me wear that kind of stuff). But the truth is, Nike Pink –she is a makeshift pressure cuff. You see, dear hannihaus readers, I’m no Sporty Spice and I’ve got the boo-boo to prove it.

Yes, apparently when practicing at the driving range, it is highly advisable that the golf club be used for hitting golf balls, instead of –say – the ground.

It makes sense really. I mean, the irons, they’re called golf clubs, not ground clubs or divot sticks ….

Except, of course, when your name happens to be Hänni.

If your name is Hänni, any club that makes its way into your hot, little hands, can’t be called anything BUT a divot stick.

Trust me (and my repetitive -golf-induced- strain injury) on this one.

I_got_a_boo_boo.jpg
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Anyone else injured themselves slamming a club into the ground 15+ times in an hour? No? Just me? Ok. Well I’m sure you all have had some kind of misadventure this week. It’s Friday, so why don’t you share your truth? C-O-M-M-E-N-T and come clean.

Want to get my attention?

To solicit a lecture from the Nutrition Nazi on why you need to eat more veggies all you need to do is:

Pick through the crudite platter, cock your head sideways, and ask “What’s up with the white broccoli?”

Before thrashing you soundly about the head, I will tell you nothing is wrong with the white broccoli… mostly because it’s cauliflower.

crudite.jpg

15 comments

Memoirs Of A Guy

There’s a ton of great movies out right now – (Yeah Brokeback Mountain. Cowboys in love = yum.) – and Angelface asked me about one I’d gone to see with Niccy B.

Angelface: (looking perplexed) “Who the eff is Guy-ee-SHA?”memoirs_of_a_geisha.jpg

Hänni: “What?”

Angelface: “Guy-ee-SHA? Who is Guy-ee-SHA and why does he/she/it get their own movie?”

Hänni: “I think you mean ‘gay-shuh’. Geisha are old skool Japanese courtesans.”

Angelface: (like a light bulb has just come on) “Oh sweet. The movie is all about porno and stuff!”

Well no.

I wanted to tell Angel that actually geisha are *not* cheap, whores of the porno variety. They are skilled artisans, trained to excel in traditional Japanese singing, dancing, flower arrangement, tea ceremony, etc. I wanted to tell my dear husband how these women, once venerated for their skills and beauty, are now dwindling, so that the “geisha” you see on the street in modern Japan are typically just actresses posing for tourists.

I wanted to tell Angel these things, but instead I opted for “Ehhh, something like that.”

Angelface just looked so damn cheerful about the assumed smuttiness. I couldn’t ruin that for him.

I mean seriously, he was all gleeful like a kid who’d just won the spelling bee. His word: “happiness”. His spelling: p-o-r-n.

… But I digress.
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Don’t forget, dear hannihaus readers, I’m currently taking guesses for the Randy Jackson What’s Up Dawg Contest. Everyone who enters is a winner – at least in life.

Oh yeah, and as an added incentive, I’ve decided to throw in some boobies (!) of the prize persuasion. Yep, enter my contest and you might just get yourself a booby.

Well it’s that time of year again, folks. For the next 15 weeks or so, millions of people will tune in and tune out to the Fox phenom, American Idol. This is the haus’s favorite show, and – because we like it, we really like it – we want to celebrate with a little friendly competition.

Let’s play!

We want you: to wager a guess on how many times Idol judge, Randy “yeah dawg” Jackson, will indeed utter the word, “dawg” throughout the duration of season 5. (Hint: it’s probably going to be a lot. And if it’s not a lot, then it might only be a little.)

Entering is easy: simply leave your guess in comments. E-mail your guess to hanni at hannihaus dot com (so as to avoid any Price is Right one uppage.) Please note, only numerical/ quantifiable guesses will be counted. “A shitload” and “your mama” – while funny – will not win you the big prize.

The big prize: besides bragging rights, and the opportunity to be called a “weiner” here at the haus, the best guesser will also receive a shiny, sparkling copy of “What’s Up Dawg: How To Become a Super Star in the Music Business,” written by none other than Mr. Randy Jackson himself. Woo!

Get yer guess in: by midnight Sunday, February 5, 2006. All guesses published Feb. 6 and the Weiner will be announced in May, on the night of the finale.

The last thing I want to say is: even if you’re *gasp* not a fan of American Idol, or *double gasp* hannihaus lurkers (hi!), please play! Randy JacksonIt’s so totally easy to venture a guess, and look, the book is useful even if you don’t intend to read it.

Uses for the Randy Jackson paperback include (but are not limited to):

  • wearing it on your head like a jaunty cap
  • throwing at the cat for behavoir modification and/or entertainment purposes
  • confusing your coworkers; Keep it in your cubicle so when dim-witted Donna asks “what on earth is that?”, you can look her straight in the eye and say “The holy bible. I’m going to get out of here one day – you’ll see! With this book, I’ll accomplish my dream of becoming a singing sensation like my idol, Mr. Barry Manilow.”
  • With that I say, let the games begin! (Don’t forget to reference the Randy Jackson Register for the latest dawg count numbers.)

    *Everyone who enters will get a shout out and will have their Web site linked here at the haus. If you don’t have a Web site, don’t worry -enter anyway! Besides, I’m sure you have other redeeming qualities. Maybe you’re good with wienerschnitzel? I don’t know.

    Today I come to you, a humbled Hänni. It seems, dear hannihaus readers, that I made an egregious mistake when I reported that Randy “they used to call him Jabba” Jackson did *not* use the word “dawg” on the American Idol Season 5 premier.

    I’m not sure how I missed it, but a playback, brought to us by Manuel, Tivo, and the letter “k” confirms that Mr. Jackson did indeed utter his crowd-pleasin’ catchword on the night in question.

    Remember Barney Fife from West Virginia? He kept singing “I shot the sheriff…” (pause for two secs) “I shot the sheriff…” (pause for two secs) “I shot the sheriff…” (pause for two secs) “I shot –Meh.You get the idea.

    Anyway, at the end of the deputy’s beat-up, broken record of a performance, apparently Randy does say, “That’d be a ‘no’ dawg.”

    You know what that means folks? It means, that although I suspected otherwise, Mariah Carey *did not* eat Randy’s “dawg.” She merely ate Randy – dude used to be twice the size he is now… I’m just sayin.

    Anywho, in lieu of the recent “dawg” discovery, I am proud to announce a new segment of the haus. We will call it the Randy Jackson Register… and it will be glorious… and you can find it snuggled all sandwich-like between the “About” and “Archive” sections of the haus sidenav.

    It’s a simple concept folks. Every time Randy says “dawg,” I – your mistress – will put a tally in the register. At the end of the season we’ll all be able to look back on the accumulated entries, and – I don’t know – maybe one of you will be receiving a p-r-i-z-e.

    Hee hee! Contest details will be announced Sunday, and don’t worry, even if you’re not an Idolphile, it’ll still be fun.

    Like more fun than you can shake a stick at.

    Like more fun than getting a Brazillian nostril wax.

    Like more fun even than bidding on William Shatner’s ebayed kidney stone (yech!)
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    Dear Hannihaus readers, I have a position to fill and I need your help. I’m looking for a brave (and detail-oriented) Deputy Dawg Catcher to help ensure that I’m keeping accurate count for the Randy Jackson Register.

    A sort of quality assurance position, the qualified candidate will be as freaky deeky about Idol as I am, and must, accordingly, commit to watching – like it’s some kind of religion – every episode of American Idol this season… or at least 90% of them anyway.

    Interested parties, please apply in comments. Even if you don’t want to apply, leave a comment anyway, because it’s Friday and you’re cool like that.
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    *Update* Manuel has stepped up to the plate!  He is the official hannihaus Deputy Dawg Catcher.  Congratulations and happy dawg counting!

    And so it’s begun. With a two-hour premier that was chock full of the schlock, American Idol Season five is in full, freaking swing.

    While AI was, as always, enjoyable, the Windy City auditions were a wee bit disappointing.

    Sure there was the requisite taunting of the tone deaf, and yes there was a dude in drag –Hirsute Heidi’s voice could spoil milk, but what was really unforgivable was his flagrant display of chicken legs -, and yeah, there was that sexy Russian babe whose performance – more cabaret than qual-i-tay – prompted Paula to tear her shirt off… but it’s not like Paula hasn’t lost her top for a contestant before.

    What up Corey Clark, you skeezy cheeser.

    Anyway, amidst all the normal tomfoolery, something occurred last night that was quite shocking. You know what I found entirely unusual, dear hannihaus readers, so much so that I lost sleep over it?

    Paula asks “What happened to Randy’s ‘dawg?’”

    I couldn’t believe it but, Randy “I was in Journey” Jackson didn’t utter a single “Yeah dawg” throughout the entire episode!

    That’s just craziness.

    Well I don’t know about you, but I needed some answers. In an exclusive hannihaus interview, I asked Randy what really happened with the loss of his trademark phrase.

    “I don’t know dude,” the jovial judge answered. “Mariah Carey must’ve eaten it”.

    Somebody found the haus by googling “Mariah Carey is fat”. (hee)

    Now why would anyone say that about Mimi?

    My only guess is it has something to do with this unfortunate picture that’s been circulating on the Internet:
    jmim.jpg

    Fake you say?

    Agreed. That last pic was obviously *not* Mariah Carey. It was missing a critical component:

    twinkiemimi.jpg

    Now that’s the Pillsbury Doughboy Mariah Carey!

    For more Mariah Madness, (and photoshopping that doesn’t suck) click here.
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    In (seemingly) related news my glasses are M.I.A. I bet Mariah ate them.

    Let it be known, that from now on when something goes missing, the reasonable explanation will be that Mariah has placed these items, like so many innumerable amounts of pork rinds, in her eager pie hole.

    My lunch – my kittinks – my organic raisins, nothing is sacred. Mariah will eat them all.
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    In other news, Season 5 of American Idol starts tonight and I’m so totally stoked. I think I’ll christen the occassion by playing a drinking game wherein I toss one back any time Paula pouts, Randy says “dawg,” and/or Simon rolls his smarmy little eyeballs.

    Something tells me I’ll be drunk and vomiting by the first commercial break.

    12 comments

    Jedi Nights

    Dear hannihaus readers, it is a momentous day indeed. Angelface is away working all weekend so I’ve chosen to participate in an activity that, along with referring to me as “Queen Mistress Supreme”, is on the list of things my husband refuses to do.

    Yes dear hannihaus readers, for the next nine hours I will be transported to a time long ago and a galaxy far, far away.

    If you speak Geek you probably know what I’m getting at. For anyone who isn’t, however, a thirty-year-old virgin and/or proud owner of the Obi Wan Kenobi Jedi Braid, what I’m trying to say is that I’m going to watch the Star Wars trilogy (episodes 4-6 for those who are nerdy enough to know the difference interested.)

    I’m very serious about all this. I’ve got my DVDs strategically positioned for fast ejection and insertion at the end of each episode, and I’ll only be breaking from this Geekfest for one of two reasons:

    1. To grab a beverage of choice – likely something of the organic licorice tea variety
    2. To periodically yell at the cat, “Sphynx, Sphynx, I am your faaaaaather”.

    For those of you who are concerned that the latter item could possibly be detrimental to my male kitten’s understanding of gender development – being that Mommy wants to call herself daddy – don’t sweat it. Sphynxy knows who his real daddy is and, accordingly, how real daddies behave…

    Yes, Angel has done a very good job of teaching Sphynxy that it’s Mommy’s job to launder the boxers, and it’s Daddy’s job to wear them whilst playing Xbox and scratching his man bits…

    spot.jpgbut I digress.

    So yeah, to summarize:

    • the Star Wars marathon – it’s on. I’m all giddy, like Mariah Carey at a chocolate crueler convention.
    • The cats –they’re fine. It’s only if I start dressing them like their cousin Spot, (AKA the Jedi Master), that we should be concerned.

    Til next, dear hannihaus readers, adieu… And may the force be with you.

    12 comments

    Golden Retrievr

    Because if you’re anything like me at the end of a week – that is, a blathering, blubbering, work-worn dolt – then you need to do something fun.

    I found something for you. It’s called “retrievr” and it’s just the Jane-dandiest.

    How it works
    You draw an image on this nifto sketch screen and while you’re doing so, retrievr searches Flickr to display what it thinks is a similar item.

    Just a little word to the wanton: everything retrievr displays is family friendly. I don’t want anyone to be disappointed, but if you try to draw boobies, the results will only display stuff like stop signs and eyeballs.

    Show And Tell
    retrivr_butt.gif

    Look What I made

    Can you guess what it is?

    If you guessed lightbulb, you’re wrong.

    If you guessed it’s Mariah Carey bending over for a Little Debbie snack cake, then you’re a true evil genius and I just might love you.

    *hee*

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    Let’s play, dear hannihaus readers. Make something and tell me about it, or better yet, post pics on your blog. First things first though, you gotta click here for retrievr.