Alright, mainly it's a roundup. I just thought it sounded so much more exciting when I tacked "jubilee" on the end. Like a party in honor of failure. And I wholeheartedly support those, by the way, like when people get left at the altar but have the intestinal fortitude to cop a "Your Loss, Fuckface" attitude about it, and then go on with the reception festivities as planned. TOTALLY admirable. If I got left at the altar, I'd probably set the church on fire, which my current logical state of mind knows is immoral and highly futile, because the assbag that left me there wouldn't actually be in the church, and I'd just be taking out my rage on my friends and family and God while jeopardizing the safety of the aforementioned parties and committing a felony, but I also know that if that actually happened to me, at that point, it would seem like a completely appropriate course of action.
Originally I was going to have something in the title of this blog about "Public Shamings", and then I got to thinking that a blog audience of fourteen doesn't exactly qualify as "public" in most people's minds, but you know what? 1. Nobody asked you, and 2. Semantics. Sometimes you have to forgo "accurate" at the expense of "interesting". Yeah. You just got handed a valuable life lesson, by the way, so write it down, kids, and definitely don't tell your moms or any officers of the law where you heard it.
Anyway, without further adieu: my abridged list of people and things that need to get their damn acts together, PRONTO.
#1: People that check-in on Facebook or four-square at the hospital at weird times of day. What's that, you say? You're at the Auburn Memorial Hospital Emergency Department at 3:30 am? 1. I can only assume you're being treated for an STD that you caught from attention whoring, and 2. if you have the time or even think to tell Facebook that you're at the hospital, it's not an emergency. Go home, walk it off, take an Advil, and get back to posting pictures you took of your own face.
#2: Girls who incessantly quote variations of that "if you can't handle me at my worst, you don't deserve me at my best" line. Guess what, ladies: when you habitually spend even small amounts of time being self-centered, irrational, high-maintenance, catty, neurotic, or just plain bitchy, no one fucking cares what your supposed "best" is. Stop googling Marilyn Monroe quotes and start googling directions to your local library.
#3: Bank Of America. You clowns need to quit riding on whatever allegiance people innately feel toward you because of the crafty inclusion of the word "America" in your name, and stop thinking that I want your unsolicited (and I might add unappreciated) mail.
Remember when the advent of computers had people saying that it was totally going to save paper? I'm now thoroughly convinced that computers were not for saving paper, and that in fact, they were invented for the express purpose of tracking down my address and basic financial information so that Bank of America could send me 2,800 trees worth of pre-qualified home loan offers. Flattering, but that seems like a strange offer to make considering that on any given day, the combined value of my checking and savings accounts is usually in the neighborhood of nine dollars. I sort of suspected that you would be the first to notice that.
I'm no mathematician, but I'm going to go ahead and suggest that your poor business decisions may in some way correlate with the fact that people can buy 3 year-old, 4 bedroom foreclosures in Phoenix for a little over $86 a month. Giving out home loans willy-nilly only hurts yourselves. Well, and the foreclosed people. And the entire economy... the rainforests... alright, you know what? Just stop.
#4: John Boehner's Skin Tone. For a while there, I was just really concerned about the state of his adrenal glands, and I thought I'd give him the benefit of the doubt, because in a 30-second effort to be a more compassionate and less judgmental person, I non-professionally diagnosed him with Addison's Disease. But then I hear he's recently been spotted entering tanning salons, and now I'm judging again. I know; the horror.
Listen, I'm not even going to pick on you about the fact that you have cried publicly more times than Tonya Harding, but dude, you look like Don Johnson, and since I am not referring to how handsomely you sport a white linen suit, this should not be viewed as a compliment. Being super-tan is super-80s. Which reminds me: I recently read that only 13% of females who tan and 6% of males who tan knew that if they stopped going tanning, it would reduce their risk of cancer. For the first time in this article, and probably the first time in the history of this blog, I'm not exaggerating. Less than 1 in 10 people who tan knows it can give you cancer. In 2011! That fact should inspire a whole blog in itself, but for the sake of my blood pressure and national security, we need to keep discussing our Speaker of the House.
Is John Boehner one of the more than 94% of males who have noooo idea that tanning is bad for you? Because if he is, then homeboy should definitely not be in charge of the far more intricate issues on the plate of our commander-in-chief, who Boehner would become if God forbid something happened to both Barry & Joe. Hey, the 80s were great. I was made in them and I'll always have a soft spot. But nothing is going to get accomplished in this country if every foreign diplomat to the United States is meeting the new president and telling him that the Miami Vice theme is their ringtone.
Look how much time I just spent talking about tanning. If I got started on the subject of the Jesus freaks preparing for the end of the world, this entry wouldn't even be done by the time the rapture comes at the end of May. Anyway, until next time! And if there is no next time, well, Happy Armageddon, people.
2 comments:
Love it all :)
You're awesome :)
Post a Comment