Friday, August 10, 2012

5 Things That Are Not As Awesome As They Sound

Eating at restaurants

Eating at a restaurant SOUNDS great, sure. The idea is someone else cooks supergreat food, serves it up to you and cleans up afterward. The reality is, you are being overcharged to play “whose fucking hair is this?”

Sometimes the food SEEMS better than what you make at home, but usually all they have done is add more butter, more salt or more bodily fluids than you do at home, depending on how rude you were to the waitstaff.

Something that often happens when you eat out is the food is a big disappointment compared to what you saw on the commercials. You know, when what they show in ads looks so mouthwateringly delicious so you have to go there and when the dish comes, it doesn't really look like that. For example, fast food hamburgers always look gourmet in the ads but when you get one it inevitably looks like someone sat on it. 

With fast food, the prices are low so you kind of don’t care, whereas at a restaurant, you are paying for a pricey meal, you have certain expectations.

charbroiled meat

still charbroiled meat, what's your problem

Ehow articles

If I understand the concept correctly, any random asshole can write an Ehow article. I personally have never been invited to but hey, I'm REAL BUSY AND WHATNOT. What I'm saying is there is no guarantee the numbnut writing the article knows jack about shit. Exhibit A: My refrigerator broke. Through the magic of teh internets, I was able to figure out what parts were broken, and order the parts. One of the parts was something I really needed directions to install, so I looked online for guidance. An Ehow article was SO HELPFUL. It said:

      1)    Turn off water to refrigerator
      2)    Install part
      3)    Turn on water to fridge.


Song lyrics

Sometimes there will be a song I really like, I can even sing along to it, but I have no frickin clue what I’m singing about, nor do I care. Once I said I really liked a song and my husband was horrified because as it turns out, the song was about suicide. I’m like “I don’t care what he’s singing ABOUT, he sounds HAWT.”

Sometimes there will be a kicky tune but you can’t admit you like it or people judge you. I posted “Come on Ride the Train” on my Facebook wall and all hell broke loose because that apparently suggests I might be up for a gangbang, which is SO not the case. As far as my friends and colleagues know. Well, most of them know.

Similarly, I can dig Heavy-D’s fresh funky jams but doesn’t mean I agree when he says overweight lovin is the way to go because YUCKO, amiright? I can also like Eminem's music without wanting Xtina to gargle my balls.

Spa Treatments

One year, for our anniversary, my husband got me a spa day. 
It was a Swedish massage (all gooood!), a wrap (where they bind your entire carcass with scorching hot, wet mummy towels and try to suffocate you) and finally, an exfoliating treatment (so awesome that I finally understand the meaning of “enhanced interrogation”). 

Basically, this treatment involves stripping your hide of its outermost layer with an industrial scrub brush and then setting some hoses in the ceiling loose on you like you are being rolled through a car wash. 

If they had STARTED with this nightmare I might have left before the rest of my Day of Beauty. IT. Hurt. SO. Bad. 

Now, it DID leave my skin baby soft, but then, THIS poor bastard is probably pretty smooth also:



I don’t know what idiot came up with Skype. When I’m talking on the phone with someone, I generally don’t want them to see that I'm so bored with their conversation that I’m doing housework or plucking my chinhairs, that I'm continuously flipping them off due their incessant droning, or going on a serious nostril excavation because HEY BOOGERS ARE AWESOME, YO.

The last thing I want is to STARE at someone I’m talking with – if I was comfortable with eye contact I’d talk to you in person, right?

What We Should Look Like on Skype:

Plus you realllly don’t need to see what’s going on in my house while we talk. You don't need to see how shitty I look right now, how much booze I’m pounding down, how few pants my spouse has on or how fucking lazy my children are.

What We Actually Would Look Like on Skype:

I think they should figure out how to do Skype so that you can hear the person talking but you can't see anything at all. Get on that, inventors. 

Wednesday, August 8, 2012

So, January is Stupid So Far (now that it's August)

YES I KNOW IT'S AUGUST. This is my new post. I wrote it in January. 

You might assume I have been just PaRtYiNg it up, spending lotto winnings between January and now. You might be an asshole. More likely, you're like me, just another plodding, somewhat defeated numbskull trying to get through the day, hoping that the gastrointestinal gods bless you with a fresh batch of sphincter waffles in the morning and that nothing more challenging than that occurs for the rest of the entire fucking day.

So... January is stupid so far (work with me here)...

January in Central Illinois. Capture the magic. I have spent a lot of time with one of my kids lately due to her extended illness, which is real superfun. Since we are together ALL THE FUCKING TIME, I have decided to forego decorum, forget the tender ears that are present and just be myself. HAHAHAHAHA!! Sucks for you, kid! I have now stopped NOT saying my favorite thing I say when it’s cold, because HEY, it’s cold and I deserve some joy in life. 

See, I like to say, “I’m freezing my BALLS off!” and then whomever I am with (sister, child, patrolman) will say, “You don’t HAVE balls.” And I will act panicked and say, “OH MY GOD IT’S TOO LATE.” This works every time. And by “works” I mean I get to hear the sound of crickets and be the recipient of a lot of eye-rolling.

There was a segue here relating to making observations but...


* protracted period of abject shittiness

So right there I came up with an AMAZING, ORIGINAL observation that people drive like complete dumbasses. But I didn't mean just the cell phone talkers, the texters and text-readers. Mostly I meant FUCKING OLD PEOPLE. Well, just plain old people, I don’t imagine they get much fucking in. Just complaining about their psoriasis, driving badly and breaking the occasional hip.

I apparently thought I had invented a new word, “gerimandering” which was supposed to describe the geriatric meandering style of superbad driving. The term makes perfect sense but it sounded too familiar so I looked it up and apparently it already exists and means something political:

“In the process of setting electoral districts, gerrymandering is a practice that attempts to establish a political advantage by...” Blah blahblahblahhhhhhhh SO BORRRRRRINGGGGGG

So that scewed that but then I noticed it ALSO says,

"Jerrymander" redirects here. Jerrymander may also refer to the arachnid known as Solifugae.” 

Arachnid. Like spider. HUH. Okay, so I then looked THAT up and then this is the part where I proceeded to





Like we need to look at THIS shit

"Solifugae are an order of Arachnida, known as camel spiders, wind scorpions and sun spiders or solifuges, comprising more than 1,000 describedspecies in about 153 genera. They may grow to a length of 300 mm (12 in) including legs"

Camel Spiders. As in the size of a goddamn camel. 


It was all cute when I thought Gerimandering meant this:

"Whats up, bitches!"

But "JERRYMANDER", meaning THIS:

Seriously, look at the fangs


Speaking of NOT COOL: 
Dude. No woman will fuck you, EVER. Carry on. 

And now you can kinda see why I stopped writing this blog for seven months. You try to make a crass, insulting joke about old people like any good person would and it turns into a freak show about terrifying things found in nature.* Very discouraging. But hey, I won't wait so long to post this time because I recently discovered that I have a fantastic talent for always whacking male flight attendants in the dick with either my elbow or my face, so I'm going to ruminate on that for a bit, try to cheer up** and then tell you all about it! 

*but not Kardashians. This time.