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.
Expectation
 |
| charbroiled meat |
Reality
 |
| 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.
Um, yeah, step two IS A LITTLE VAGUE, MOTHERFUCKER.
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:
 |
| sssssmooooooothhhhh |
Skype
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.
