The Sass Factory

Shutup.com

2011-11-14T17:00:00.023-05:00

I've always enjoyed the rituals that only good friends can share. Inside jokes, quick facial expressions that speak volumes, code words, things that only they find funny. One of my best friends, Rob, and I mutually love talking about websites that should be created. Sometimes because it would actually improve people's lives if such a website existed, but mostly we do this because we find it entertaining to follow funny words and phrases with "dot com". Another great friend of mine, Tim, likes to make these phrases into indie band names. I realize you're probably thinking these activities sound juvenile and tremendously stupid, but for some reason I find them hilarious... and they are, I swear!

For example:
I could say something like "There was a Ted Koppel doppelganger in line behind me today," and Tim would casually reply, "Ted Koppel Doppelganger is playing Coachella next year." Rob would probably laugh at my statement and quickly shout "TEDKOPPELDOPPELGANGER DOT COM!"

Sometimes these rituals DO make me want to start a website (or an indie band). Recently I've been pondering compiling a black list of people, places, and things that make me want to slap my own forehead in disgust. I checked into it, and unfortunately, the URL "www.facepalm.com" is already taken. And why wouldn't it be? It's so simple AND it rhymes. Shit. My next choice was "www.shutup.com", another viable option, given that anyone on this black list shutting up would probably be good for the whole of creation. As it turns out, shutup.com is already in existence, but it says "coming soon". Pfft. You know what shutup.com? I'm using that URL as this blog title, and I don't care if you get mad. If you start bitching about it, I'm just gonna tell you to shut up. (Dot com.) And then submit you to your own website.

These would be my other submissions:

Seasonal Affective Disorder. It's pretty lame that you come around and bother people who don't get enough sunshine. I mean, way to rub salt in the emotional wound of wintertime. You are definitely the worst thing that can be described as perennial. And supposedly you'll just leave if treated with light therapy? You're nothing but an annoying second-rate mental illness, SAD, and you know what else? I think your acronym also being a symptom makes you sound like a smug asshole. So shut up!

Premature Fatalities of Hip-Hop Stars of the 90s. Hey, I think it's great that you all stopped shooting at each other a long time ago, but I'm going to need you guys to also stop being fat, diabetic, and heart disease-prone. I think it goes without saying that foot amputations and Lopressor prescriptions are NOT GANGSTA, but also, I really don't want my future children to grow up in a world without you. Just shut your mouths. (Literally, so that less food can get in there.)

Election Courtesy Calls. First of all: MISNOMER. There is nothing courteous about being called every 40 minutes at all hours of the day for an election you can't even vote in because you're no longer a resident of that city, and a guy keeps leaving messages for "Michelle" despite the fact that your voicemail message tells him TWICE that your name is Lauren. I guess it doesn't really inspire a lot of confidence in this local wannabe official you're calling on behalf of when it's obvious he's hired people to harrass you who can neither hear nor dial correctly. Consider getting a real job in which you tangibly, positively contribute to society, and while you're at it, shut up.

The Red Cross. You know what, Red Cross? You're a real dick. Several times a year, I give you - FOR FREE - the miracle of life in the form of my AIDS-free, type O-positive, hemoglobin-rich blood that I made with my top-notch bone marrow (you're welcome), but I'm expected to pay you $70 to watch three hours of horribly-acted emergent situation videos and prove that I haven't forgotten how to yell "code" and begin chest compressions? SHUT UP.

Student Loan Debt and the People Who Downplay It. Everyone hates it, but what I hate even more are asinine articles stating that "students need to better manage college costs" because we're graduating with too much debt. Robert Rood, "guest essayist" and Associate VP of Finance at Roberts Wesleyan College, a private institution in Rochester, NY - where, according to its own website, the estimated yearly cost for students in 2010-2011 was $33,186 - had these brilliant, groundbreaking suggestions: "Scrap the cable. Pack a lunch (unless you're on a meal plan at college) and eat out less". Excellent! So with the $33,000 a year you'll save brown-bagging it and missing your favorite FX shows, you'll be able to simply write a check for your tuition bill!! Pinching pennies is soooo easy! Oh wait, you just have to pinch 3.3 million of them, or roughly a median American yearly salary's worth. Seriously, Bob? Shut. The fuck. Up.

Whiny Target Boy.
(This one might require some explanation.)

Being the bleeding heart that we all know I am, I'm obviously on the email list for a website called Change.org, which hosts and spreads the word about petitions against various political, social, and economic injustices. This way, I can get multiple daily updates about all the ghastly horrors going on in the world (like $5 a month debit card fees) that urgently require my e-protest. And really, what BETTER way is there to support victims of "corrective rape" than by clicking a tab that says "add signature"? I kid, but make no mistake, these things do actually work, and often. Governments have enacted new laws, appeals have been granted, and Bank of America decided to reverse their decision to charge a large majority of their customers $5 a month to use their own debit card after a backlash that included hundreds of thousands of people signing a Change.org petition. A lot of the times they're good causes, but occasionally they're just moaning about first world problems like bank fees, and the one I got today, I just can't bring myself to sign.

A Target employee in Omaha, Nebraska is petitioning to push Target's Black Friday store opening back from midnight to 5am because "all Americans should be able to break bread with loved ones and get a good nights rest on Thanksgiving!"

One the one hand, I agree, but only because I hate Black Friday. It's a tacky tradition that has spiraled so completely out of control that in recent years, violent stampedes for cheap flat screens have literally left people maimed and dead. Now, in order to have an edge over competitors, many stores are pushing up their opening times so people can live out a real-life "Modern Warfare 3" while attempting to purchase "Modern Warfare 3" in WalMart on Thanksgiving itself. Listen, I get what Target Boy is saying. But out of all the ugly things going on in the world, he decides to start a petition because he has to "leave his fiancee's family's Thanksgiving celebration early"? REALLY!?

I have some news for you, Target Boy: you're a whine-ass. It's true. First of all, it's a problem that can be easily solved: eat turkey earlier. Truthfully, Thanksgiving is kinda boring, if you think about it. It's a whole day set aside for glorifying professional sports and gluttony, and HELLO - here in Amurrica, we do that 24/7/365 anyway. Secondly, your attempt at altruism with that "All Americans..." statement is just precious, but WAKE UP, TINY TIM! Nurses, doctors, police officers, firemen, EMTs, and soldiers will all be away from their families that day too, not to mention all the other days, nights, special occasions, and holidays they miss year-round in order to provide for their families and take care of the rest of us. But they signed up for that schedule - and so did you the day you started donning the red shirt/khaki pant uniform. They aren't whining about it, so I suspect that you can suck it up for the five hours over which you're trying to stir up a national outcry.

(All together now)...
Shut up.

The Sass Factory Protection of Marriage Act

2011-10-31T13:15:00.016-04:00

I've always had lots of ideas for how we can "save marriage" (none of which have anything to do with banning gay people from it, by the way) but I figured that there'd be no better time to share them than on the heels of the breaking news that Kim Kardashian is divorcing Kris Humphries, who just wed on August 20 after knowing each other less than 9 months.

I don't think anyone even feels bad because we're too busy rolling with laughter. What, were we supposed to be surprised? I have no doubt there were bookies with odds on that. Personally, I gave them six months, so if anything, I was slightly pleased at how right I was, but I nearly guffawed at how soon things actually ended. How did I know they were going to get divorced, and so quickly? Well, you could argue that common sense told me. Anyone truly blindsided by this should definitely have their head examined and not be allowed to operate heavy machinery. But truthfully, I've been spending years observing trends, reading data, and just plain formulating loud opinions about marriage, and I think they're pretty spot-on. If Kim and Kris had even just browsed over my Protection of Marriage Act, they'd have known the multitude of reasons they absolutely shouldn't be getting married and the whole mess could have been easily avoided. So that's why I've decided to publicize my ideas for marriage regulation, and here's hoping the people who can do something about it are listening!

I should preface my regulations with this: don't get offended. No, seriously, don't. If any one of these fits you, or your parents or grandparents, and the marriage is still intact, well then I must not be talking about you, right? For the record, I think anyone who is currently married should be grandfathered in. But times have changed. People who got married 6 minutes out of high school in 1937 did so because life was different back then. The world is bigger now, we have more life path options, and people start having sex in middle school bathrooms when they're 12, so we can't expect that what worked way back when is going to work now. And there's lots of data that proves that. Certainly there are exceptions to every rule, but laws need to be made based on rules and not exceptions. Drunk driving is illegal because MOST people are bad at it. When you're talking about governing a population, you have to target what is average and common. Generally speaking, people don't do well at being married when they don't meet these requirements. SO WITHOUT FURTHER ADIEU...

My marriage rules.

PREAMBLE
Make all marriage illegal. Seriously, the whole thing, done-zo. It's an archaic form of bartering that came about when people required groups for mere survival. We think marriage is romantic, but traditionally, it's about people's families paying each other to get rid of their kids for them. You really want to continue something that was developed on the basis that your husband's parents would take you if they also get 100 head of cattle? You do? Ugh, fiiine. If you refuse to outlaw the whole thing, then we have to follow these rules!

Article I: AGE REQUIREMENTS
1. You have to be an adult. A REAL adult, not a legally-defined adult, like an 18 year-old. Just because you're allowed to vote and get thrown in actual-jail, and not juvenile sleep-away summer camp "detention" center-jail, doesn't mean you're to be trusted with long-standing legal contracts. Have you hung out with any 18 year-olds lately? The vast majority of them can barely formulate a coherent thought, much less comprehend the vastness of committing themselves to someone for a lifetime. People today, particularly kids, are overstimulated and constantly evolving. They're kids for longer than people used to be kids. Minimum Marriage Age = 30.

2. Age Difference. If one partner is considerably older and of considerably more wealth, NO. Marrying someone young enough to be your child or grandchild? This is not a real marriage. This is a mutually beneficial contract based on the trade of sex, status, and possibly health insurance. The younger person shall be hired as an employee (so they can have health insurance), payed for their services (that's right, I'm suggesting the legalization of prostitution, because I'm calling this sort of relationship what it is and not allowing them to defile marriage), and be income and sales-taxed at the appropriate rates.

3. The Older Woman Amendment. Marriages in which the woman is 5 or more years older and of childbearing age shall be highly illegal. Women mature faster and seek financial and emotional stability from their mate. Unfair biology also requires that women procreate earlier than men. In addition, men should not commit their lives to someone they met before they had a chance to sow their wild oats. I refer to this as "Longoria-Parker Syndrome". Eva Longoria thought it was a good idea to marry A PROFESSIONAL ATHLETE (more on that in a moment) whom she started dating when he was in his early 20s. And then, of course, he had affairs. Simply speaking, the needs of older women can not be met by younger men, particularly if said younger man is under 35. When the woman is no longer of childbearing age, but she's just plain getting less hot as the man get hotter or stays the same, this is called the "Kutcher Complex", and this type of union shall also be illegal.

Article II: OCCUPATIONAL HAZARDS
1. High-Profile Marriage. If you're in a rock band, on reality TV, or a professional athlete in a televised sport, OR your face has ever graced the pages of People, US, Ok!, In Touch, or Life&Style, you're not allowed to get married. Ever. It's for your own good.

2. Military Marriage. I have to wonder what kind of government thinks that young, early marriages are SUCH a great idea that it showers perks and benefits such as better housing and higher pay all over people SIMPLY FOR BEING MARRIED. Hmm, I wonder why military people marry, have babies, and divorce, all by age 25? Because it was convenient and income-potentiating? Perhaps. Furthermore, I find it highly suspect to encourage people to wed and procreate who you are then going to send off to get shot at and blown up, potentially creating a large generation of war widows and orphans. Cut it out. All the other listed rules apply.

Article III: PERSONAL REQUIREMENTS
1. Length of Courtship aka the "Kardashian Klause". You're not allowed to marry someone you met since the last World Series. You have to have known them for at least 3 years. You're not allowed to marry someone you've known for a long time but got hammered and hooked up with and decided to date for the past several weeks. Dating shall take place over a minimum of 18 months. You've also got to be engaged for 6 months before tying the knot (sorry, Elvis Impersonators, for putting you out of business). And you're certainly not allowed to marry someone who was in some sort of serious relationship or marriage less than 3 months before you started dating them. Rebounds are recipe for disaster. Speaking of which....

2. Three Strikes and You're Out. That's right, you only get 3 marriages EVER, so be choosy. And yes, that includes the Marine you were married to for 5 months when you were 18, and the 96 year-old millionaire husband who died on you a couple weeks after your wedding. If you keep getting divorced or your spouses keep dying, you're obviously unskilled at choosing mates, so your right to choose is going to be relinquished. You, Jennifer Lopez, New Gingrich, and Larry King can all have support group meetings with each other, because you're done. No more weddings. (Kim Kardashian, you've got one more shot, don't fuck it up.) YOU are the ones ruining marriage, not gay people.

3. White Weddings. You can't be a virgin when you get married. Trust me, God doesn't care. In fact, God thinks you're stupid for buying a car before you've ever even driven one.

Article IV: THE CEREMONY
1. Nuptual Narcissism. We have created a generation of people more excited about their wedding than they are about their marriage. Therefore, weddings are no longer allowed to be nice. You have to have them on your own property, your family has to make the food, and you can't outsource anything (except maybe the alcohol). Make your own flowers. Get your dress off a rack. No fittings, no alterations. Buy a damn outfit and show up. Oh, and you have to drive to your honeymoon, and you and your future spouse have to pay for everything yourselves. Marriages are work, so the wedding should be work too. Tedious, unglamorous work. If we stop treating people like princes and princesses simply because they chose to get married, the whole institution becomes slightly less appealing, and only people who are truly obsessed with each other will still want to go to the trouble of getting married.

2. Gifts. No money shall be given. No engagement rings. No $800 china platters. No gift registry. I'm calling for a moratorium on the extrinsic rewards. Marriage, love, commitment... THAT IS the reward. Again, we have enabled people to get a little too excited about the tangible things a wedding gets them, and they start to lose focus on the nontangibles. No one needs to be awarded on the basis that they have chosen a life partner. You know what the award used to be for getting married? Doing half the dishes and none of the laundry. Having more sex than you did when you were single (that's a fact, google it). Not dying (because between the two of you, you're bound to locate food and health care twice as often). We need to get back to basics here, and again, when you take away all the flash, cash, perks, and free shit, people will begin to see marriage for what it really is: a cattle-trading contract.

Fox "News" Slams Redheads; There Will Be Blog!

2011-09-19T21:59:00.014-04:00

Oh, look. Fox "News" has once again attempted to pass off human biases as newsworthy science:

http://www.foxnews.com/health/2011/09/19/worlds-biggest-sperm-bank-turning-away-redheads/

Silly me! Here I was thinking that being white was enough to keep them off my back, but no such luck. I shouldn't really be surprised. Fox "News", the network of choice of everyone's embarrassing racist uncle, is no stranger to this sort of controversy. After all, they are the same source that recently published articles alleging that white people are smarter than black people, and calling Obama's 50th birthday celebration a "hip-hop barbeque" that "didn't create jobs".

It's ironic, really: the people in charge at Fox "There's No Such Thing As Global Warming or Evolution" News, and the caliber of people who make up its audience, seem to have no regard whatsoever for science, except when it comes to using pseudoscience to support their bigoted ideologies. Because it's not racist if it's science-ish, or so they rationalize.

Please tell me what credible news source would ever publish a sentence like this:

"Historically, red hair was thought to be a mark of moral degeneration and beastly sexual desires."

That's about as journalistically legitimate as saying "Historically, Jews are thought to be cheap and sneaky." NOT. OKAY. Though I'm sure about five whole seconds of googling would reveal that someone at that network has been recorded saying something remarkably similar, and Fox would have quickly chalked up the whole scandal to "the elite liberal media taking the words out of context". You know, that very special context where anti-semitism is not only totally appropriate, but also hilarious.

Well, Fox "News", in your obvious extensive research into the psyche of the flame-haired, you've forgotten one little thing that redheads are notorious for: their tempers. Now you've gone and royally pissed off this redhead, and I'm guessing that "somewhere between 6 to 18 million redheads in America" are none too pleased with you either.

Redhead-bashing has become trendy as of late, and I'm not really sure why. Given that I get compliments almost daily on the color of my hair, I'm inclined to attribute it to jealousy, but I'm not sure that's it. It's also possible that these "ginger"-haters have just been turned down by one hot redhead too many, and really, who can blame them for trying to mack it to one of God's finest creatures? At least half the men I know, and nearly every man I've ever dated, has admitted to having a "thing" for redheads. But I'm not entirely convinced that's the answer, either.

It probably has more to do with the fact that douchebags need some sort of outlet for their hatred of "others", a term used in social psychology for people who fall into some category of minority because of their rarity or "different"-ness. And since it's no longer particularly cool in most circles to denigrate women/black people/Jews/homosexuals, redheads and Mexicans are sort of the final frontiers for "acceptable" discrimination by people who are still miffed that they've had to give up using the N-word in formal social situations.

Before you go hating on my species, you might pause to consider famous redheads, without whom history might have been very different:

- U.S. President and principal author of the Declaration of Independence Thomas Jefferson
- Author Mark Twain
- Astronaut John Glenn
- King David (of biblical fame)
- Little Debbie (of Cosmic Brownie fame)
- Viking Explorer Eric the Red (and father of another great Viking explorer, Leif Ericson)

Speaking of Vikings, and to keep lockstep with Fox's proclivity for treating folklore as irrefutable scientific evidence, did you know that according to lore in Ireland (home to a large percentage of the world's redheads), no one had red hair on the Emerald Isle until after the Vikings came through in the 10th century? True story. Another true story is that I have red hair and I'm Irish. Do you know what that means?

It means I'm the descendant of Vikings, motherfucker.

What claim-to-chromosomal-fame do all of you at Fox News have? My guess is that you're the genetic leftovers of either backwoods inbreeding or the Third Reich. I'm really looking forward to the day that we finally figure out how to travel through time so that you and your imbecilic viewers can get back to the Antebellum South or Nazi Germany where you belong.

I'm going to close with a picture of one of the hottest women in the world, none other than red-haired supermodel Angie Everhart.

Yeah, there are definitely worse things your kids could be than redheads. They could be Republicans.

How to Write a Romantic Comedy

2011-08-24T15:52:00.015-04:00

A male friend of mine recently had difficulty with an assignment for a writing class in which he had to come up with a premise for a movie that's appealing to females, and he was looking for suggestions via comments on his Facebook status. This is what I wrote, but as it turns out, Mark Zuckerberg thought it was too long, so I posted it here instead.

People might not think so, but it's actually super easy to write a romantic comedy. Sure, it's highly formulaic, but that's what makes it a very simple eight-step process. You just need help from people with vaginas. We have had these steaming piles of crap shoved down our throats since birth - AND WE LOVE IT - so we're really good at knowing how they work, especially because they represent how we all secretly hope our own lives will shake out. These movies are what we want to happen, ipso facto: we continue to watch them.

Here is the premise of every romantic comedy ever:

1. A completely neurotic but totally lovable girl has a great and highly implausible career in fashion/advertising/magazine editing and is completely convinced she does NOT need a man. This is emphasized in the next scene, when she goes out on the town and totally woops it up with her sassy, skilled-at-dancing black friend and her funny, tells-it-like-it-is gay friend. Black Friend and Gay Friend, at some point, will excitedly refer to their respective paramours.

2. She goes home to her absurdly gigantic, unrealistic New York City/Los Angeles apartment and takes a bubble bath or puts on ugly pajamas and watches television alone, when suddenly, she AND the audience realize she's super lonely and unfulfilled, and our girl sort of stares longingly into the distance with a pensive look on her face, as if to say her life is still missing SOMETHING (read: a man).

3. Shortly thereafter, Neurotic Girl (Heroine) experiences some profoundly unlikely but non-traumatic event such as breaking her high heel and falling into the person next to her on the street, who turns out to be a extremely obnoxious loud-mouthed asshole salt-of-the-earth kinda guy (who is totally sexy and also, conveniently, has a heart of gold beneath his rugged exterior). He makes some sexist-yet-funny remark to which Heroine takes offense and becomes convinced for the next six minutes of the movie that he's a terrible person with whom she has nothing in common and whose advances she will resist without fail. However, since he's a terrible person that happens to work in professional sports or owns a cool dive bar, they become fast friends and he teaches her new things and doles out clichéd life advice, like how she needs to loosen up and just learn to let go, and points out to her all the ways that some dude we suddenly learn she's currently half-dating is a total douche. Following a night of this sort of conversation, flirty glances, and nineteen beers each, they accidentally make out.

4. Asshole-With-a-Heart-of-Gold gets weirded out (or perhaps just goes about his normal life) and starts dating Random Tart. Heroine is displeased but, being a strong, independent, supposedly-non-typical-but-actually-typical woman, acts like she doesn't care.

5. Heroine, now weighing her options, or perhaps just rallying up a good ol' game of "who can make who more jealous?", rapidly increases the seriousness of her relationship with aforementioned half-boyfriend, who is a smooth, handsome investment banker or doctor who always wears nice suits. Asshole is miffed, realizes his feelings for the neurotic and totally-not-his-type leading lady, and goes just slightly too far in trying to make her jealous, but not so far that it's completely unforgivable. Heroine has a socially inappropriate, unwarranted meltdown, whereupon she screams at Asshole, and he gets in maybe one or two good digs about how uptight she is, and this all, most likely, occurs in a very public setting.

6. MONTAGE BREAK! The montage is a mandated, post-climactic piece to every romantic comedy puzzle. The Currently-Not-So-Gold-Hearted Asshole feels kinda stupid and guilty and must take a walk in crisp fall weather to clear his head and gaze at happy couples in a park, while somber indie rock plays in the background. Simultaneously, Heroine stares out the window of her tall office building as she recollects their good times and ponders what she has lost, while a montage of the aforementioned good times, complete with slow motion laughter, PG-rated physical contact, and possibly a food fight, plays for the audience. (WE DO NOT, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, FORGO THE MONTAGE.)

7. After a short but dramatic period of time, Gold-Hearted Asshole finally shows up, much to Heroine's fake chagrin, to show just how golden his heart really is by doing something completely ridiculous, dangerous, and/or illegal to prove to Heroine once and for all that he MUST care.

8. Heroine and Gold Heart (who is now not so much an asshole, but a very hot, sensitive, sports team-managing badass) share their second kiss and declare their undying love for one another, despite the fact that they've known each other for nine days, aren't officially dating, and haven't even gotten to second base. AND THEY ALL LIVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER!

Here's who you cast:
Heroine: Katherine Heigl, Jennifers Aniston/Garner/Lopez, Reese Witherspoon, Anne Hathaway, Julia Roberts, Jessica Alba, Cameron Diaz. Generally anyone who is very wholesome, but also highly annoying.

Black Friend: Doesn't actually have to be black. Any mildly ethnic-looking person will do. Must be attractive, but absolutely can not be prettier than Heroine. Think Zoe Saldana, Rosario Dawson, Jennifer Hudson, Gabrielle Union. If you can't find ethnic, Judy Greer (the eternal 'that girl') can fill in.

Gay Friend: Any clean-cut guy who is handsomely pretty, lean, fashionable, and isn't currently famous (and still won't be after he scores this part). Danny Roberts from The Real World: New Orleans is a nice prototype.

Badass (with a heart of gold): Gerard Butler, Bradley Cooper, Matthew McConaughey, Ashton Kutcher, Jake Gyllenhaal, James Marsden, Patrick Dempsey, or anyone who is sort of scruffy-handsome. Scruffy is how you know he's badass, handsome is how you know he has a heart of gold. (Clearly).

Random Tart: This can be played by anyone, as long as she isn't a particularly convincing actress and is sort of tough looking or slutty-hot. She can't look like the girl next door because she has to be unrelatable and therefore easy to hate. She's also only in the movie for about a minute and fifteen seconds, so you might not want to waste too much money on her. I'd go with someone from a recently-cancelled or low-rated CW series, or is unlikable to begin with, like Megan Fox, Camilla Belle, or Taylor Momsen.

There you have it. It really is that easy, and I just did most of the work for you. Now please hurry up and get to making this and a hundred other movies exactly like it so that I can absolutely go see them and seal-clap with delight when they get to #8.

Sweet Corn, Gay People > Internet Ads

2011-06-24T16:33:00.005-04:00

Dear Citi bank,

I think that huge ugly ad that you just dropped directly over the news website I was reading was trying to get me to become your customer, but wow, did that backfire, because now I don't see you as a something I should give my money to, but as a rude pest who INTERRUPTS MY GAY MARRIAGE/STATE VEGETABLE ARTICLE.

The New York State Senate is in a marathon session right now, working out the Empire State's pressing issues, like where we should find billions of dollars to pay for all our superfluous shit, and how we can incorporate an ear of sweet corn onto our state flag (maybe one of those Excelsior broads can just like, hang on to it, perhaps instead of the scales of justice, or pretend to be eating it? Besides, if they vote down the gay marriage thing, then we really won't need the scales of justice on there anymore anyway).

So as you can see, Citi, while we in New York really appreciate your giving the Mets a metric ass-ton of money so they didn't have to play on that decrepit field anymore, neither I nor the state legislature has time to entertain your uninvited shenanigans right now, especially when you make it so impossible to find the miniscule "CLOSE [X]" button. So you just calm down for tonight, and in a couple days, you can get back to reeling in people who get distracted by shiny things.

English Quickies

2011-06-04T15:46:00.007-04:00

I think it's high time that we brush up on our "sounding smart" skills and have some quick English language lessons! If you thought I was referring to something else, well, this is not that kind of blog, perv.

Volume I: Learn the god damn difference between past tense and present perfect tense.

It's "I saw it" ...OR... "I have seen it".
It's "I went" ...OR... "I would have gone".

Next person that I hear saying that they "would have went" or they "seen it yesterday" is getting smothered with a pillow. Get your life together.

Volume II: Double negatives ain't no good.

See what I did there? Wait, no... because if you need this English lesson, you probably didn't. Stop saying "ain't no", "isn't no", "aren't no"... it's one or the other, not both. While I would strongly prefer that you just say something "isn't good" (because saying either "it ain't good" or "it's no good" is still going to make you sound like a hillbilly), I'm going to choose my battles here and just consider it a victory if you can properly deploy a single negative.

Volume III: Third person singular vs. Third person plural verb agreement

Earlier this week, I overheard someone say "The pharmacy don't open til 11." If only my eyes were actually able to shoot lasers into that person's poor, lost soul. Try replacing the subject with "it/he/she" or "they". You wouldn't use "they", because pharmacy is singular. So are words like family and team. Just because a pharmacy, a family, or a team is made up of multiple things, it's still a single unit. ERGO:

- the baseball team DOESN'T have a game today,
- the family IS clinically insane,
AND
- the pharmacy sure as fuck DOESN'T open until 11.

Word? Word.

Things That Chapped My Ass Today: A Roundup & Jubilee

2011-04-16T11:59:00.002-04:00

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.

15 Albums That Really Embarrassingly Impacted My Life

2010-09-10T16:10:00.006-04:00

We all know how much time I enjoy cavorting on websites purportedly for socializing that ironically impede upon actual face time with one’s friends, so you probably won't be surprised to learn that I've succumbed to yet another Facebook trend: a new survey originally entitled "15 Albums That Will Always Stick With Me”. Two years ago, everyone was obsessed with the open-ended "25 Things You Didn't Know About Me" and everyone was all “Number 17: I really like mashed potatoes!” and as a result of reading about 25,000 riveting facts such as this, I may or may not have compiled a secret blacklist of people who are complete wastes of carbon, which I will be glad to provide to you for a very reasonable $7.95, and yes, I accept PayPal.

Anyway, I hopped on the “15 Albums” bandwagon, but I changed the original title, mainly because it’s terrible. But more alarmingly, I've found that many people are completing this survey not in the spirit of laughing at their eleven year-old selves, which it clearly should be, but rather as a platform for showcasing their highbrow Indie-sprinkled musical taste. Apparently they weren’t informed that this was not, in fact, the interview portion for the Junior Miss Music Snob Williamsburg pageant, a lapse in judgment I’m going to chalk up to diminished intracranial circulation related to tight pants and clove cigarette residue.

And while we’re at it, hipsters, I might suggest you spend a little more time contributing to the good of society and being people who genuinely likes themselves, and start tapering the amount of effort you put into searching for tube socks, lenseless eyeglasses, and vintage Care Bears tee-shirts to wear as meta-commentary on the elitist Care-A-Lot government’s attempted ethnic cleansing of the Care Bears Cousins that forced their mass migration to the Forest of Feelings after it became apparent that the Care Bears Cousins were not actually bears at all. The childrens' and Care Bears' expressions say it best:

I'll agree that it’s sort of disturbing that the Care Bears were all, “Not in my backyard!” and the ones born with birth defects such as monkey tails were labeled “Cousins” and the show blatantly endorsed separatism and the exile of second class citizens, but seriously, hipsters, it’s time to get a real job and learn an adjective besides “epic”.

We have digressed, AHEM. Anyway, while the music snobs have been busy creating the lists that Indie wet dreams are made of, I’ve been noticing that they tend to choose albums that were made either upwards of thirty years ago, or within the past five years and that precisely sixteen people have ever listened to or heard of. I sort of find it strange that all these twenty-somethings are not lauding albums that have truly "stuck with them", as it were, but rather ones that didn't even exist for most of their lives, or existed for their whole lives but they likely came across as adults, because I'm pretty sure that even the most enlightened seven year-olds were not listening to songs like Jimi Hendrix’s “Electric Ladyland” in 1989. They were really just picking their favorite albums, and probably ones they calculatingly chose as ones that would be the most impressive, and I'm going to have to call shenanigans on that.

Facebook surveys are for one thing, and one thing only: self-humiliation. Which is why I elected to complete this survey and share the albums that made a mark on my life, however embarrassing they may be. Listen, I love all kinds of music, even the good kind, but if we’re being honest, it was almost always the crappiest art of the day that crept its way into my young, generic pop-music loving heart. I blame being born in 1984 for this. It set me on a horrible trajectory for musically coming of age, and you’ll see why as I include the years and anecdotes about their roles in my life story. If I didn’t include these explanations, you'd assume I’m a complete asshat, and I simply can’t accept that, because I’m only like, half an asshat.

Anyway, here's the survey:

"The rules: Don't take too long to think about it. Fifteen albums you've heard that will always stick with you, in no particular order. List the first fifteen you can recall in no more than fifteen minutes. Tag fifteen friends, including me, because I'm interested in seeing what albums my friends choose. To do this, go to your Notes tab on your profile page, paste rules in a new note, cast your fifteen picks, and tag people in the note."

1. Ace of Base - The Sign. This was the first album I remember picking out myself and begging my parents for. It was early 1994, I was 9, gimme a break.

2. Weezer - Blue Album. "Buddy Holly" used to play ad nauseum at the ice rink in my early figure skating days, around 1995. After hearing "Undone (The Sweater Song)" and "Say It Ain't So", I decided I had to make the whole album mine. Most memorably, I listened to it on a Sony Discman with one of my BFFs, Jenn, on the 8th grade trip, prettymuch on repeat all the way to Niagara Falls, Canada and back.

3. The Cocktail (1988, starring Tom Cruise) Motion Picture Soundtrack. I realize this is a compilation, but there were no rules against that. It was also one of my first albums, and "Kokomo" by the Beach Boys was the first non-children's, non-church song that 5 year-old me knew all of the lyrics to. It still has a special place in my heart.

4. Spice Girls - Spice. I was a 12 year-old girl in the 1996, need I say more? I wanted TO BE a Spice Girl, duh. It was the first album to which I knew every lyric of every song. And almost 15 years later, I may or may not still keep it in my car.

5. Dixie Chicks - Wide Open Spaces. It made me all, "wait, do I like country?", and the answer was a timid, sheepish "yes".

6. Def Leppard - Hysteria. Thus began my decades-long love affair with hair metal.

7. ACDC - Back in Black. One of the first halfway respectable albums I ever owned.

8. ABBA - Gold. Technically not an album because it's a greatest hits compilation, but I had to include it because it set my soul on fire in the way that only Swedish pop can. My parents bought it from Columbia House, that mail-away CD company, circa 1997. I listened. I loved.

9. Frank Loesser - Guys & Dolls: The New Broadway Cast Recording, featuring Nathan Lane in the role of Nathan Detroit. This was the first showtune album I ever listened to in completion. It kicked off a colorful, short-lived teen stage acting career.

10. Sleigh Ride: Christmas Favorites played by The Boston Pops. I have an extraordinarily unhealthy relationship with Christmas music. I listen to it at least four months per year, and I start listening to it earlier every year. This was also the first compact disc I ever owned and surprise! I got it for Christmas.

11. NSYNC - NSYNC. I was 14 when the Boy Band to end all Boy Bands came out, how do you think this affected the course of my life?

12. Mariah Carey - Music Box. 1994 was when I fatefully discovered that I really like closing my eyes, belting out chesty ballads like “Hero” and "Without You", and waving my finger in the air as I do it.

13. Christina Aguilera - Stripped. 18 year-old me (stupidly) described this as the soundtrack to my (then current, 18 year-old) life. But mainly, it provided ample opportunity for finger-waving shout-alongs, but this time it was in 2002.

14. The That Thing You Do Motion Picture Soundtrack. Technically not a compilation because the music was all written by the same few guys. This sparked my love for oldies-style music, even if it WAS all made in 1995. Also? One of my favorite movies evarrr.

15. Destiny's Child - The Writing's on the Wall. This was the first CD someone ever burned for me (thanks, first boyfriend!) in 1999, and we used to sing the songs, most notably "Bills, Bills, Bills", in cheerleading all the time, especially on the bus when we were headed for football games.

Do you have a list more embarrassing than this? I’d love to hear it. But in the eternal words of Beyonce & those other Destiny’s Child people who’ve been forgotten by time, “I. Don’t. Think. You. Do! Soooooo you. And. Me. ARE. THROUGH!”

The Day the Like Button Died

2010-07-22T18:50:00.014-04:00

Today, the twenty-second day of July 2010, was a scary day indeed, and not just because I rolled out of bed at 2pm and there were clothes strewn about every flat surface in my house. No. I signed onto Facebook a little before 4 pm and was scrolling through statuses alerting me to the mundanities of my friends' lives for a few minutes when I found one worthy of my approval, and therefore worthy of a click of the "Like" button.

Which all sounded like a fantastic plan until I realized THERE WAS. NO. LIKE. BUT-TON.

In many ways I'm ashamed to admit that I've been on Facebook for over five years now, and it's been a part of my life nearly every day since. But then again, this should come as no surprise to my readers, who probably by now are extremely well acquainted with how enamored I tend to become of pissing away copious amounts of time and effort to self-indulgent internet endeavors like this bl- ...ahem. ANYWAY, like most of us on Facebook, I participated in the requisite sanctimonious lamenting about how much I hated every new feature in the deluge of "improvements", "updates", and "new formats" Facebook has adopted in the past few years, but I'll be the first to admit that the introduction of the option to "Like" someone's status, picture, wall posting, comment, or link was not only completely necessary, but should also be heralded as genius.

No longer would I be forced to click "Comment" and then drum up some response to show my approval of John Q. Schmuck's sentiments in not-completely generic ways. I wasn't so skilled at this. I can't tell you how many times I've commented that something was, simply, "awesome", the only major difference between them being tone and/or occasion-appropriate punctuation.

Hypothetical status/comment scenarios:
Status: I JUST WON $500 DOLLARS AT BINGO OMG!!!!!1!!!11
Comment: Awesome!

Status: Has anyone ever noticed that the movie Good Burger is actually a well-veiled and surprisingly avant-garde exposé on quality-control issues in the realm of franchise businesses and the ubiquitous use of synthetic hormones in our fast-food meat supply?
Comment: Awesome.

Status: 6 feet of snow on the ground + jumping off the roof + not remembering where the 20 year-old metal remainders of my swingset are = 13 stitches + a tetanus shot.
Comment: Awwwwesooooommme.

Then the "Like" button came along, which, if you're me, is essentially an "awesome" button. It also serves as a means of saying "word" or "concur" or perhaps even "holllerrrr!", but without having to type all those cumbersome letters. If anyone were to put up one of the above statuses today, I'd probably just "Like" it. If it were quasi-groundbreaking, or truly earth-shattering, I might even comment too. Probably that it was "awesome".

But there weren't any quasi-groundbreaking or earth-shattering statuses today. There were just the standard likable ones, you know, the kind that you read and some minute physical reaction of the face-region occurs, like your eyebrows raising (or scowling), or one half of your mouth curling into a close-lipped smirk, or making that expiratory "heh" half-laugh noise. But lo and behold, on this day, I couldn't "like" the statuses that made me "heh". A tiny tornado of panic began to swirl around me.

If that weren't bad enough, my entire profile seemed to revert back to the pre-"Like"ing era. It was as though my "Like" button currently didn't exist and had never been an option for others, because all of my previous "Likes", my little virtual thumbs-ups, were gone. Comments were all that remained on the more earth-shattering statuses. Some of my "heh"-inducing statuses, which previously just had some thumbs-ups, were now completely blank. I was in some sort of parallel dimension where there was no circumstantial proof that I was Facebook-popular or funny. The panic tornado was quickly approaching the strength at which a house might soon drop on someone's sister. SON OF A BITCH!, I thought, I AM FUNNY, DAMMIT, AND HELL IF IT WILL NOT BE KNOWN VIA MY STATUS LIKES!

But alas, the tornado began to dissipate. Toto and I remained safely parked in Kansas. I was a tiny bit sad. I was a smidgen nostalgic for the evidence that people approved of my snark. And I was reminded by Facebook that deep down, I'm really shallow. For a brief moment in time, I realized the futility of all this internet vanity silliness that had come to define my generation. Wah-waaahhh. "Stupid," I sighed as I began to close my browser.

Then I quickly remembered that the Facebook of late, what with its hundreds of millions of members and bandwidth expansion rivaling the growth rate of small galaxies, has the tendency to shit the proverbial bed, so I pulled out the tried-and-true "sign out/sign back in" method of SNAFU-repair. And like nothing ever happened, it was back, all of it. My "Like" collection. My happiness. My narcissism.

Whew, crisis averted for the time being. But tighten it up, Facebook, and remember that Dorothy and the Munchkins handed it to that green bitch for much, much less.

Eric Northman Is Ruining My Life

2010-06-21T18:42:00.016-04:00

Season 3 of True Blood is a couple episodes in and I'm already annoyed with Bill, save for that few seconds of slow-mo when he launched a kerosene lantern at his hellaciously annoying maker (his Vampire "big", if you will) Lorena and she went up in flames. Please, Alan Ball, let a lumpy, bubbling, hot-pink pile of translucent vampire goo be the last we have to see of that see-you-next-Tuesday.

Anyway, I've finally admitted to myself that I'm now a card-carrying member of Team Sookie & Eric Need To Finally Get It On, And Not Just In One Of Those Crazy Vampire Sex Dreams Because She Drank His Blood, Either. Because you know what? As adorable as I found Bill to be in Season 1, he spent all of last season plus the past two episodes totally chapping my ass. And here's why: Bill Compton is moody, brooding, highly conflicted, ineffective, inconsistent, and all around too much of a normal guy, whereas Eric Northman, I've come to realize, is, in every way, women's ideal.

All I have to say is damn you, Alan Ball; damn you, True Blood writers; damn you, Alexander Skarsgard; because the last fourteen episodes or so have basically been brewing the perfect storm that has not only forced me to join Team Eric, but ultimately will cause me great disappointment and sorrow due to the fact that Eric Northman, A FICTIONAL CHARACTER, is the mythological perfect man, and I will never find said creature in my non-fictional life. Thanks, ya dicks.

Swoooonnnnn. What it comes down to is this: Eric Northman represents the allegorical, the fabled, the legendary badass with a heart of gold, and that's all girls really want, nevermind that fact that it's nearly impossible to find one in the wild. The fact that Alex Skarsgard, the actor who plays Eric, is a tall descendant of Vikings with kind eyes, perfect lips, and the body of a Greek god is just really great icing on an already delectable cake.

I've made a list of Eric's qualities that, in my opinion, every guy should have:

1. Takes care of business. In a way that inspires confidence, so you get the sense he is reliable.
2. He is the strong, silent type, which I have a very large weakness for. Speaks softly but carries a big stick, as they say.
3. Wears track jackets.
4. Has good relationships with his maker/big Godric and his makee/little Pam. You could say he is vampire family-oriented. He loves and respects them, and this is what softens Eric and makes him human-like. Whose heart didn't melt when Godric died and a few blood-tears slid down Eric's beautiful cheeks? He's an exemplary maker, and a lot of makers are really crappy bigs (ahem, Bill).
5. Persistent, like how he pursues Sookie, but not in a creepy or desperate way. It's more like "I like you, you know that. Deep down you also know you want me, I'll be here when you finally figure that out." Sexy.
6. Protective, but out of chivalry, not out of jealousy.
7. He's kind of an asshole sometimes, but he always manages to be an asshole in a really attractive way.
8. Face of an angel. (This is more of an Alex quality than an Eric quality, but they have the same face, so it goes on this list.)
9. He has pointers.
10. Smart, responsible, self-sufficient, upstanding citizen, as evidenced by the fact that he is not only a business owner, but is also Sheriff of the Vampires' Area 5.
11. Almost always cool, calm, and collected. Tends not to raise his voice. Only gets all heated and busts the fangs out when things are REALLY going awry, like when Longshadow was stealing from him and werewolves snuck into Sookie's house.
12. Funny, but unfazed by his own humor, like when he said to Lafayette "Let's go, RuPaul."
13. Well groomed, at least ever since the day they made that excellent, excellent decision to chop off his hair and put him in a track jacket.
14. Perceptive, like how he noticed that one werewolf had a Mississippi accent. He'd probably notice subtleties like nail polish color and girls freakin' love that.
15. Rarely kills people. I have to admit, was not such a fan when he tore that one dude limb from limb when Lafayette was chained up in Fangtasia's basement, but we'll let that one slide, because back to point #1 - he takes care of business.

I know what you're thinking, what a ridiculous list! But you know what I have to say to that? Pffttt. That's what I say, because I don't think it's so much to ask that men wear track jackets and generally keep from killing people, and yet such men only seem to exist for one hour a week on a premium cable channel. Though I do have a close friend who works on True Blood who tells me things like "If you met him in real life, you'd fall in love. Nice guy." And then I sigh dreamy sighs and let my chin rest on my hand whilst gazing woefully into the clouds, fantasizing about the day I find my Eric Northman/Alex Skarsgard; my unicorn; my warm-hearted badass. And when that day comes, you can bet your ass that I won't be letting that one get away. He'll be getting tied up in my basement, Fangtasia-style. Just with, ya know, less brutal murder.

Cox Cable = Worst Boyfriend Ever?

2010-06-03T23:24:00.005-04:00

I just moved to the land of Cox Cable. And my, what an appropriate name.

They were wonderful to me at first, telling me everything I've ever wanted to hear, making me feel like I could trust them, and I got that feeling that it was all going to be sweet and easy and peachy keen, jellybean.

And then they went kinda MIA and didn't make good on all their promises and got all freakin' awkward about it. Then when I called them on it, they gave me a bunch of B.S. to the effect of "well it's not that it's anybody's fault", and I handed them the old favorite "and you were planning on telling me this WHEN?" and the classic "I don't like your attitude."

And after they realized how much they pissed me off, they came back with apologies and Sweet Talk Round 2. Isn't that always the story?

I just wonder how many businesses out there operate on a day-to-day basis like the pain in the ass ex-boyfriend every girl has had.

Just goes to show you should never trust Cox.

Two Skanks Don't Make a Right: Lauren Solves the Gaga vs. Xtina Debate

2010-05-03T17:41:00.031-04:00

Confession Time.

I have long been a fan of Christina Aguilera's voice. Not always of her music, and not usually of her antics. Lest we forget the days of thirteen piercings and her endless string of chaps.

I have, for less time, been a fan of Lady Gaga's music. Not always of her voice, and never of her sartorial escapades.

Honestly, what can a sane person even say about this that truly does it any justice? The first time I saw this picture, all I could get out was a series of guttural grunts and incoherent expletives. I mean good God, woman, it looks like your lady business is trying to escape.

Suffice it to say that I am someone who is educated on both performers and relatively neutral, given that I love one thing about them and have bones to pick with other characteristics. That, plus the fact that on this very blog, I have previously solved the heavy issues - abortion, Runts flavor changes - makes me just the person to end the "Is Christina Aguilera copying Lady Gaga?" debate.

In case you have not yet heard about this profoundly substantive matter, people (and by people, I'm referring to Perez Hilton and his adolescent female cronies) are getting all uppity because Christina Aguilera has supposedly been "copying" Lady Gaga, an accusation that has gotten more press in the wake of Christina's new video "Not Myself Tonight". Celebrity blogger (and well known fan of Gaga) Hilton, who has made a name for himself by basically mastering the art of forever functioning like a thirteen year-old girl, has apparently become so personally offended by this that he's taken to calling his idol's nemesis "Clonestina".

Now here's the thing: I don't know that Christina or Gaga has officially commented on any of this, nor do I care, because it's far more hilarious that their fan bases, being mostly comprised of pubescent females and 30-something gay men, are getting into internet claw-fests about it.

Anyway, here's what I have to say about all this: Perez has a point. He published this photo, comparing stills from "Not Myself Tonight" to "Bad Romance" on his website a few days ago:

Touche, kind of. But that being said (and seen), I still have to side with Xtina on this one, and here's why:

1. Christina Aguilera has been a working the 'look-at-me', hypersexual, overly made-up, weirdly-slutty-but-hot with a dash of trailer park schtick since Gaga, aka Stefani, was in the ninth grade. She just kinda took a break from being a campy mess during those phases when she was you know, kickin' out babies and operating under the impression that she was a 1940s MGM contract starlet. Remember Christina in 2001?

2. If we're talking straight-up musicianship, Christina can sing circles around Gaga. Christina is known for her voice (which is highly remarkable), and also for managing to incorporate gyrations into nearly all of her routines, and of course for that brief period there where she was looking like she sort of smelled bad, but in a sexy way. Gaga, on the other hand, is mostly famous for being weird, and for the sake of being weird, I suspect. It's sad to say, because she's very talented, but it's also her own fault that her penchant for making an impression by wearing things fashioned out of materials not conventionally used for clothing has eclipsed the supposed reason she is famous - for being a singer, that is.

Lady Gaga does things like break glass bottles and pretend to kill herself on stage, not to mention utilizing more fake blood than I've ever seen employed outside amateur stagings of Macbeth, all the while barking out sophomoric harmonies in her low-register smokery voice that's garnished with the sounds of heavy breathing that one would normally hear only in an aerobics class, which is due to her insistence upon including physically demanding theatrics such as dangling above the stage with a rope around her neck, for instance. She just constantly takes it too far, and I get the impression she does that simply for shock value, because there really is no way you can rationalize that wearing a dress made entirely of Muppet heads is in some way an artistic statement. Yes, it got my attention, but that was the only point, now wasn't it? At least have the integrity to admit that if it is indeed the case.

Look, if that's how she wishes to make her mark on society, by all means. Perhaps deep down she is concerned that her voice or music is not strong enough to do that on its own, but she should remember that most of the time, we hear her and don't see her. When was the last time you watched music videos on MTV? When was the last time MTV even played a video? The problem with Lady Gaga is that at the end of the day, her voice and her music are not her bread and butter, her crazy-assed outfits are, and that's a shame. I like the studio versions of both her voice and music, generally speaking, but even still, Christina's a better singer.

That being said, Christina should stop singing generic over-mixed dance-club pop that is more suited to voices like Lady Gaga's, Beyonce's, and Britney's. Christina is just too good for that, and it's a waste, really, because Christina is too good for most music. I'm not sure the type of music that best suits her pipes has even been invented yet, but unfortunately she has not figured out that her unique voice should be her appeal, and the vehicle with which she separates herself from the pack. Instead, she sinks into conforming with the current trends in pop stardom. Christina shouldn't really be in any pack, or even singing today's pop for that matter.

3. My third and most important point in my argument that Christina is not "copying" Gaga is that you can't patent being a famous fucking weirdo who also happens to sing, and if you could, Lady Gaga would not be the owner of such a patent anyway. Being strange and scandalous at some point or many points in one's career is pretty much par for the pop music course, though I'll admit that Lady Gaga is taking a sort of turn with it, the likes of which we haven't seen any time recently. While Gaga is indeed talented at being a sideshow set to her own music, what she's doing now still doesn't quite measure up to the ultimate standards of freakiness set by, say, Michael Jackson, David Bowie, Freddie Mercury, or Madonna in their respective primes.

Lady Gaga isn't such a trailblazer when you think about people like them, because they all made names for themselves by wearing weird outfits and a whole mess of makeup and generally just making middle America uncomfortable. Lady Gaga and Christina Aguilera are just two children of the same legacy, so if anyone is "copying" here, it's both of them.

Car Shopping With Chicks: A Tutorial For Dudes

2010-04-16T15:57:00.022-04:00

I have to buy a new car.

Yes, I said "have to" as in "I'm not that excited about it". Normal people probably get excited about these sorts of things. I'm not exactly thrilled because I'm doing it out of necessity and I am the most hopelessly picky person in the world. I have trouble picking out which underwear I'm going to put on in the morning, and that's a 16 hour commitment at best. So making me choose the car I'm going to drive for the next like, 5 years, is just asking for trouble. When I'm in my thirties, I may still very well have this car. God that's scary to say, but that fact just makes car-buying all the more daunting. There is a good chance this vehicle will one day be my cougar-mobile. Although admittedly, I have trouble seeing the appeal of boys under 25 now, so I'm not sure why I would when I'm 31. But just in case.

Not to worry, the '03 Middle-Age Beige Civic is doing just fine. But said Civic technically belongs to my parents, and I'm about to move to a new state where I will need a new license (one that makes me list my weight no less, which will not be a complete fabrication but probably will not go entirely undoctored, either. There's your first free lesson about women, you're welcome.), new license plates, and new registration, and you can't really do that with a title bearing your parents' name. More importantly, I'm in the sunset of my 25th year of life and should probably embark the S.S. Not Living Off The Parents Forever. Starting with buying a car of my very own.

The thing is, I know what I want. Cute. Sporty. Smallish. White. Sunroof. No beige interiors. Not that much to ask, but I just can't seem to find the right one yet. And when I try to find it, there is always one thing in my way: a man. The one trying to sell me the car.

Men don't understand how women buy cars. Men talk numbers and deals and financing and how this one is so much better in one way or another, or I'll really want that one because they "can't keep them on the lot" or is "a nice size for driving cross-country". They'll shove me in one car or the next, or tell me I just "need to drive it", or ask me if I want to sit in it or something equally unimportant, or better yet they'll ask me what I "need them to do".

Here's what I need. I need a woman to sell me a car. Preferably a young one, but any owner/operator of a set of working ovaries will do, really. Because they'll understand what I and every other member of the fairer sex really wants in a car: cuteness, in a color we love. (Example: Acura RSX. Super cute.) Everything else is secondary. Haven't you ever wondered why so many females - younger ones especially - drive Civics, Jettas, Corollas, Elantras, and Cobalts? Or if they decided to go the SUV route - CR-Vs, Pathfinders, and Escapes? It's not a coincidence. It's because they're cute.

Color is the next most important thing. (Rest your eyes on the Toyota Corolla S in Blue Streak Metallic. Wicked cute.) Case in point: my mom once chose a gold car over a silver one because it "went better with [her] coloring". On the car after that, she opted for a Special Edition/V6 (more money out of the gate, and worse gas mileage forever after) because all they had left in the EX/V4 was a most unfortunate shade called Bronze Mist. A woman will forgo power locks, cruise control, engine size, better gas mileage, optimal seating capacity, and probably even the presence of wheels on the car, but she will never buy a vehicle in a color she doesn't like.

There are a handful of guys that get this. One of my best friends, Craig, is one of the biggest dude's dudes you will ever meet. He does physical labor for a living, he doesn't use hair products, he owns two pickup trucks, and he makes me watch Motorcross with him (which I have secretly come to enjoy). On the surface it would seem that we don't have much in common, but through a decade plus of hanging out with me, he has come to understand two things about me, and maybe women in general:

1. When we ask about the aesthetics of anything, especially things that are a part of or are currently on our body, the answer is always "Yeah, looks good".
2. We have to "feel" everything. Craig explains this by saying that it is not in fact logic, but our hormones and "mysterious lady parts" that tell us what to do.

#1 isn't always helpful because I would like to know if I look ridiculous, but it is always better for the male's sake to err on the side of caution. #2, sexist-sounding as it is, is 100% true. I can't really do anything, whether it be buy a car, go on a date, decide what to eat, or pick out earrings, unless I'm feelin' it. And I say that verbatim, too: "Mmm, I don't know if I'm feelin' that right now." If I'm not feeling what I'm wearing, it sets a bad tone for the day. So you can imagine how I clam up when I'm shopping for cars and getting unsure vibes about owning them. They just don't feel like me, and therein lies the proverbial cock-block.

But most dudes don't get that, especially ones that sell cars and probably sell them to a lot of broads who they presume know nothing about cars and therefore don't know what they want. The thing is, I actually know a lot about cars compared with most females. But since cars are historically a "man thing", they think they can coerce and convince and that I, young and innocent as I appear to be, will sop up their expertise like a biscuit does gravy. They also think we care about price.

To an extent, that's true. I'm not buying a Bentley because I took a gander at my bank account, and as it turns out, there was not 100 grand in there. Unfortunate. But what car salesmen don't know is that I'm willing to spend more than I'm really willing to spend... for the car that feels like my car. The other day, a car salesman asked me how much I wanted to spend on a monthly payment, and I hadn't even thought about it. The thing is, this is a perfectly logical question. If there are balls attached somewhere to your body.

I'm not looking for a payment, I'm looking for the car I want, and I'm not going to determine 5 plus years of good vibes and happiness with my decision on something so silly as price. Take for example the BMW 328xi. Expensive; still cute. Here's the thing: for me, cars are like men and jeans. For the right car, the right man, or the right pair of jeans, I will go to the ends of the earth and spend any amount of time, money and energy on them. But when they just aren't right for me, there's no perk, deal, potential benefit, or any amount of convincing that will get me to say yes. Because when it comes to my happiness, my heart, and how my ass looks, there's just no settling.

Storytime: The Shamrock Shake Debacle of '92

2010-03-17T12:12:00.010-04:00

I happen to simultaneously love and loathe the month of March for two equally important but unrelated reasons.
1. It's Spring Break season.
2. It's Shamrock Shake season.

Here's the thing, I don't hate Shamrock Shakes. Quite conversely, I love them. Mint Chocolate Chip is my favorite ice cream, and Shamrock Shake is just the MCC minus the CC. Not to mention I'm a pasty, redheaded Mick and I drink a lot of beer in general, so obviously I love all things St. Patrick's Day. What I don't love is the fallout of an incident involving a Shamrock Shake that happened in 1992 that I have yet to stop hearing about every time March rolls around and McDonald's starts advertising their return. So that you may all join in the fun every March and make fun of me each time mint milkshakes are mentioned, I've decided to share the story with all of you.

In the summer of 1991, my family became a minivan family, a transition I still don't understand because I had just turned 7 years old, the younger of two children, and it seemed that the McNallys were pretty decidedly forever going to be a family of four, a fact I am still very much content with as I believe my Princess schtick would not have worked as remarkably well were I a middle child.

Despite our small family size, we not only went for the minivan, we went for the minivan that was all the rage in the early '90s: GM's ill-advised Pontiac Trans Sport, or similarly the Chevy Lumina APV or Oldsmobile Silhouette. You know, the one that looked like a Dustbuster handheld vaccuum cleaner.

I'm not really sure why people in the early 1990s had such little good sense that something like this seemed like such a viable and attractive option for a vehicle, but these things were wildly popular considering how unconventional they were. They even kept the same body style from 1990-1994. Ours was a rich metallic royal blue with silver trim and a lovely heather gray interior.

It wasn't all that bad of a vehicle for us. I always rocked the third row, mainly because it afforded me a position where it was easy to hit my brother but much harder for him to hit me back while remaining safely belted in. It took us on a memorable family trip to Washington D.C., and it was once an accessory to a crime when I stole it my junior year of high school and drove two whole miles to school unaccompanied with only a learner's permit. My school had this fantastic policy about not letting students attend sports practice or games in the case of unexcused tardiness or absences, and hell if I was going to let something as trivial as traffic laws stand between me and cheerleading at the next basketball game.

Anyway, long before I took it on any crime sprees, we weren't allowed to eat in the van. Too young. We'd probably get french fry grease all over the seats. Parents wanted to retain the new car smell as it was 7 months old and still in its infancy. Finally, in March of 1992, my mother had a moment of weakness and let us eat in the van. Perhaps she thought that at (almost) 12 and (almost) 8, my brother and I were responsible enough to eat in there, especially since there was only a short distance between McDonald's and my grandparents' house, our destination that evening, and maybe she figured that nothing could possibly happen in such a short time.

I don't really remember if they gave out those little cardboard cup trays at McDonald's in 1992, but I'm not sure it would have helped. I don't remember what else I ordered, probably McNuggets or something, but I will always remember that I fatefully requested a Shamrock Shake that evening, and placed it on the floor of the middle row despite the fact that all I had to do was flip down any one of the independently-moving bucket seats with which Pontiac Trans Sports came equipped, because they all had built-in cup holders on the back. I can't really attest to the thought process of 7 and 3/4 year-old me, but I imagine that, like most other events over the course of my life, it can be filed under "things that seemed like a good idea at the time".

My mom isn't exactly known for her tremendous ability to slow a car down gradually and several hundred yards before a turn, as you are apparently supposed to do. My grandparents lived on the corner of West Genesee and Van Patten Streets in the West End of Auburn, and there was a parking lot behind a bar and restaurant right after you turned onto Van Patten, just before it became more residential, starting with my grandparents' house. My mom took a hard left onto Van Patten, and upon noticing that my grandfather's prized Cadillac DeVille was parked in the driveway as it usually was, still sparkling from its earlier daily wash, she continued what I'm pretty sure was a two-wheeled turn into the small parking area.

It was a hard left immediately followed by a hard left. Essentially, my mom took the Trans Port around that corner and flipped it about 160 degrees at what felt like Mach 3. I recall that I had a difficult time staying completely upright for that stunt, so suffice it to say that the Shamrock Shake had considerably more trouble staying on its feet. I have never seen ice cream or really anything that thick launch out of a cup and coat such a large surface area so quickly.

After a very brief initial silent shock and a few "OH. MY. GOD."s and various other "Look what you did, you little jerk!"-type comments from my smartass brother later, somehow the Shamrock Shake got cleaned up. I don't remember the aftermath really; who cleaned up, or if I cried, I can't be sure. But I will forever remember the vision of that poor minivan doused in mint-scented semi-liquid.

The Trans Sport smelled like mint for months afterward, which in retrospect was probably a good thing, because it's possible that the mint smell covered up any hint of spoiled milk stench. And my family still has very much has that minivan despite that fact that we nearly never drive it, but if you look closely at the heather gray carpeting in the middle section, you can still see some evidence of the Shamrock shower.

18 years and more than two-thirds of my life later, this has become something of family legend, and the story seems to get crazier every time its told. The funny thing is, if I had spilled a Coke or something equally ubiquitous, I probably wouldn't get teased every time I drank Coke for the rest of eternity. But since I ordered something much more unique and seasonal, I'm still getting the smart remarks every March since 1992, every time someone in my family sees anything about Shamrock Shakes or hears that I'm having one. Last year I sent my brother a picture text of the one I was about to enjoy and he texted back: "Go find a minivan to dump it all over!". Sigh. Maybe once I hit the twenty year mark in two years we'll be able to let it go. But I won't hold my breath.

Hope everyone has a happy St. Patrick's Day. Try not to spill anything.

Best Comment Ever

2010-02-28T20:54:00.004-05:00

I usually delete spam comments on blogs because they're all mysterious links to bawdy and otherwise questionable websites and truth be told, I need neither a bigger "member" nor a way to "make millions quickly" (illegally?).

Then I got this one, and how could I delete it?
Please look for the (English) subliminal message.

オナニー
逆援助
SEX
フェラチオ
ソープ
逆援助
出張ホスト
手コキ
おっぱい
フェラチオ
中出し
セックス
デリヘル
包茎
逆援
性欲

Is that Chinese? Japanese? All I see is "blah blah blah SEX blah blah blah blah blahbedy-blah". And I am happy to say that for once, it's not just because I have a dirty mind.

Ferragamo Pimps Suri Cruise, Mass Hysteria Ensues

2010-02-21T13:37:00.007-05:00

Suri Cruise, toddler fashionista extraordinaire, has recently turned heads in a less favorable manner than usual when she was spotted toting a mini version of mother Katie Holmes' Ferragamo purse. Suri's toddler-sized tote is reportedly worth over $800. And as you can imagine, people are fuh-reaking out.

This wasn't the first time in recent history that celebrity children who are barely housebroken have been photographed sporting designer bags more expensive than many people's mortgage payments. Let's not forget that only a year and a half ago, when Sarah Palin was bedecked in no less than $150,000 worth of designer duds on the campaign trail with money that had been donated to the GOP by the good people of America (a scandal I like to refer to as Pradagate), little Piper Palin got her own little helping of backlash when her seven year-old hands, undoubtedly still harboring evidence of recent paste consumption, were wrapped around a $700 Louis Vuitton satchel.

Here's the thing: people get really hyper about little tykes having expensive things, yet they also get hyper that the economy is in the proverbial shitter. It's a double-edged sword, one that is also hopefully toddler-sized and plastic, because no one needs to get their eye poked out over this. But I think if you are rich or moronic enough to hook your preschooler up with an $800 bag that will likely be covered in crayon within 72 hours, then by all means, and thank you for being a patriot who loves America the old-fashioned way, with your wallet.

I have to draw the line somewhere though. The Piper/Suri thing is just gross, and I will tell you why: it's not because people that likely sleep in Disney Princess-themed sheets are carrying the sort of handbags I lust after. What I have a problem with is that neither the kiddos nor their parents actually payed for the damn things. Piper's bag was funded by some poor old Republican coot who thought he was helping a veteran and former POW get elected, and Suri's was reportedly a Christmas gift from Ferragamo. Because if anyone deserves a swanky designer purse gratis, it is definitely the three year-old golden child of a guy who is a billionaire about fifty times over. Grosser still is the fact that the uberwealthy Cruise/Holmeses are bedecking their toddler in the free shit that people send them, and I just can not support that or any other form of baby prostitution.*

*But if Ferragamo is looking for people of age to whore out their products on, I'd like to sign up for that, please.

Look For Us At the 2014 Olympics

2010-02-16T22:54:00.008-05:00

A Reenactment of Men's Figure Skating Short Program Color Commentary with Cassie & Lauren

Warning: This may not exactly be the most sensitive or polite, but if you're looking for minced words, cut back to Scott Hamilton.

C: Japanese people have crazy outfits. In ice skating and in life.
L: Especially the gay ones.
C: They are ridiculous.
L: My mom says it's appropriate that he's wearing flames.
C: I love your mom.

(During a commercial break, we don't stop commentating.)
C: And really with the tight pants Shaun White?
L: I hate Shaun White and his stupid girlish hair.
C: Awful hair.

(Back at the Pacific Coliseum...)
C: What. Is. He. Wearing.
L: You are on fire tonight. You should be a figure skating color commentator. I want you instead of Sandra Bezic.
C: It's so fun. Oh watch out for this guy!
C: Choke!
L: Is he skating to techno music? He's wearing a whole lot of sequins.
C: With that music I would too! I'm waiting for him to open his mouth and a glow stick fall out.

C: He's wearing jeans!
L: Why do all of the foreigners insist on skating to America's hits of the 1970s?

C: Johnny Weir is skating tonight.
L: Johnny Weir is the Lady Gaga of figure skating.
C: Yikes. I can't wait to see him. I hope he blows that Russian dick out of the water.
L: Hopefully it's to a Lady Gaga song.
C: A Lady Gaga montage if you will.
L: Or homage.
C: Complete with head gear.
L: I'd like to see someone skate in Lady Gaga's gyroscope outfit.
C: Bryan [Cassie's husband] is pissed that the women aren't on tonight. He likes the outfits. Typical.

C: I like when they hop like a bunny.
L: That move is called a bunny hop, appropriately enough.

(Johnny Weir takes his opening stance on the ice)
C: He's wearing pink!
L: A god damned hot pink corset. It's like amateur drag night at the Moulin Rouge out here.

L: That was too gay for gold. Judges don't dig it. Flamboyance gets you fourth.
C: Or fifth.
C: I'm waiting for Poker Face to come on.
C: Poker face is on!
L: Muh muh muh muh.

C: I want to know how they count how many turns they've done in a jump.
L: It's easy to tell with a trained eye. Mainly because it just looks off when they do less than three.
C: I don't want it to end.

C: How bout this guy... tan much?
L: I don't care for the fact that the Winter Olympics is rapidly beginning to resemble a sloppy pre-spring break acid-laced frat house theme party-turned-orgy.
L: Bad outfits and spray tans abound.

L: Kevin from Belgium is not hacking it.
C: I'm not feelin' these guys anymore. WTF is going on?! Slackers.
L: They put more effort into their outfits than they do their programs.
C: Fems.
L: Evan Lysacek is wearing puff sleeves and black illusion netting. I'm done.

Yeah, that's how I felt about your outfit too, Evan.

Sassybowl IV

2010-02-07T13:12:00.008-05:00

So it's now been over four years that I've been writing The Sass Factory, which means it's time for installment IV in my Sassybowl Sunday Series, mainly because I love alliteration. And puppies.

ANYWAY! I have something to admit. Over the past year, I've sort of... kind of.. a little bit... well, started like, watching football on TV. SHAMEFUL, I KNOW. And not just to root against my ex-boyfriends' teams, either. I've come a long way from that; these days I just flat out root for God to smite them directly and not by proxy of their boyhood idols. Kidding. Sort of.

Some of you may know that I've always liked actually going to sporting events because, well, I can be coerced into anything that involves hot dogs, beer, and swearing, but this year I can say that I have actually watched upwards of about fourteen full minutes of NFL play on television. It wasn't really on purpose. I didn't go out of my way to watch it, I just sort of... didn't stop it from happening.

Please don't be disappointed in me because of this revelation, I assure you I still hate the Superbowl itself, mainly because it's the four hours a year that almost NO ONE is willing to forgo their busy biggest-game-of-the-year-watching schedule to pay attention to me, dammit. Back before there was a Puppy Bowl, when I was in college, I was forced to throw "Non-Superbowl Parties" in which me and approximately three other chicks would watch girl movies, gossip, and eat Mike & Ikes. Not exactly a rager, given even my best attempts to salvage the day. If there is any silver lining of the Superbowl's existence, though, it is far and away the Puppy Bowl, with the many varieties of dip available on Superbowl Sunday coming in a close second.

There are some very exciting new additions to the Puppy Bowl this year, including but not limited to bunny cheerleaders and hamsters hovering the field in mini Goodyear blimps. As always we'll also be enjoying the Kitty Halftime show, presented by Bissell, in which a bunch of kittens frolic around carpeted towers and bat at things, and really, what more can one ask of a halftime show?

I can assure you that Puppy Bowl VI will not disappoint. Check out the puppy player lineup here! I'll be excitedly rooting for the Yums, the french bulldog, primarily because there is little I enjoy more than watching a portly puppy run around as fast as his stubby little legs can carry him, and Tonka, the collie mix, because holy-crap-look-at-that-face.

So that's what I'll be doing this afternoon, along with eating copious amounts of appetizer-like foods (thanks, Superbowl. I won't say you never gave me anything). Maybe once in a while I'll even flip over to CBS just long enough to catch The Who's halftime show and a few minutes of the game, at least until I can no longer tolerate the announcers saying "New OR-lee-ins".

Happy Superbowl Sunday!

An Open Letter to the Powers That Be

2010-01-21T15:13:00.005-05:00

Subtitle: "A Look Into Lauren's Long and Colorful Journey Off the Deep End"

Dear Whoever's In Charge,

For the sake of ease in this letter, I'm just going to call you God. Or "You" or "Him" (I know how You like the capitals there so I will try to stick with that.) I'll be the first to admit that I don't fully understand You, I'm not sure any mere mortal does. But I'm writing this to whatever You are, because I do know for certain that there is a force in this existence that is greater than myself, greater than humans. Maybe it's nature, maybe it's a paternalistic old bearded white dude like in all the pictures in Sunday school, maybe you are more an entity and less a person, I don't know. But I know You're there, watching and listening. I know You know me and how much of a handful I've always been, and I appreciate that You see everything I do, and probably shake your head and laugh at me, but continue to love me. My mom says I'm "spirited", and I like to think that You, great spirit that you are, can appreciate that. You made me in Your image, anyway, didn't You?

Have You ever heard the phrase "Who God loves, He allows to suffer"? I'm guessing you have, You've probably googled Yourself, we all do. If that saying is true, then I'd like to preface the rest of this letter by thanking You, because I am extremely flattered that You love me SO VERY MUCH, but I've got to ask for a little vacation from the lovefest. Life is kicking my ass.

I realize it's wrong to pray for oneself; to ask for an easy life. I've always prayed to be a strong person. I've always prayed for world peace, for You to be with people in war-torn and impoverished countries, for soldiers and their families, for my patients in the hospital, for people I hear about on the news, for my family and friends, and even people I don't like. Sometimes I pray that You will give me the grace see the good in said people, even if they are sometimes huge pains in my proverbial ass. I ask You to make me a better person so that I can bring some tiny amount of good to this world, even if it's only to a few people and for a short time. I know I can't do everything, but I want to do something.

I know I don't go to church as much as I should, but I like to think that it's ok since I talk to You a lot, and appreciate the beauty and blessings You have bestowed upon the world and my own life. And church these days is a lot of hoopla and politics, not my church necessarily, but a lot of them. I know You don't approve of those ones that get all high and mighty about their values, which they like to pretend are Your values, and have all kinds of money which they use to support legislation that goes directly against Your teachings. They don't inspire me, they make me sad. So church, as much as I love my church, isn't always what necessarily makes me feel closest to You. Yes, church is God's house, but really, all of the world is Your house, right? Ok, I'm rationalizing. I'll go to church more.

Anyway, in all due respect, and not to sound like a spoiled brat, but I feel like You always insist on kicking me when I'm down. I think You're trying to make me a stronger person or something. I DO appreciate that, really I do, but I think I'm fairly strong already. I work out several times per week, my arms are way more ripped than most girls'. And Jillian Michaels recently said on The Biggest Loser that strong people aren't afraid to show vulnerability, and being able to show emotion is a sign of a strong person, and she's pretty smart and also very ripped for a female, so doesn't that mean I'm strong? I'm like the most emotion-filled person I know. I am overflowing here!

I guess what I'm saying is just that I'm sick of fighting You about everything. I feel like I try to do things, even good things, and they always find a way to go horribly, and often hilariously, wrong. I know I'm nowhere near perfect, but I really, really try to be good and do what I think You'd want me to do. I make mistakes, but I try not to make the same ones over and over. Yet I keep screwing up, and I don't want to be a screw-up, so I guess I'm just saying TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT ME TO DO! I'm confused.

You are a great psychiatrist, God, the only one I've ever had in fact, though to digress for just a minute here, I'm beginning to think I need a real one because my life is really starting to succeed at driving me actual-crazy and not just funny-crazy, as evidenced by my writing a letter to You on my blog. Anyway, the point is this: You are the kind of psychiatrist that just like, nods and listens and never actually says anything back, but maybe makes things happen back, to which I'm like "Roger that, but what does it mean?" And I believe in the existence of signs, I know they're everywhere, I see them! But apparently I can't read. So can you teach me to read? Or maybe use picture signs instead?

People prefer me funny-crazy, I think that's why they read my blog, because I am nutty and zany in a harmless way that doesn't often cause my loved ones and my readers concern. But now they're gonna read this, and if they haven't realized it yet, they are going to realize I am teetering the line of full-on bat-shit crazy. And I've done my mental health clinical, I think I've witnessed some people that have gotten that far, and maybe that is a place where they need to be and where You want them to be, but I'm kinda hoping You aren't thinking that's where I need to be. Despite all my tough talk, I'm kind of a big wuss and would never have the proverbial balls to swallow an entire bottle of Tylenol PM. Besides, I like myself and my liver far too much to do such a thing. I also wouldn't want to insult Your work like that, you did a great job. On me. And my liver. Thank You.

I'm gonna head to the gym now, because I like to think that physical strength and pushing myself is a good way to develop discipline and inner strength. And like I said, You did a bang-up job on me, and I want to take care of me, even if it does burn and I get really sweaty in the process, and You know how very much I dislike sweating.

So yeah, in closing, I'm gonna keep pushing myself and keep watching for signs, but can we maybe make them easier to read? Like preschool-reading level, I might suggest? I don't know what to do, other than keep on talking to You and telling You what's up and hoping You eventually kick my ass in the right direction. I like getting my ass kicked, just ask the girls who teach all my workout classes at the Y! They love me because I'm a masochist like that, and I never complain when they make us do like four sets of 36 lunges each. So I'll take Your ass-kicking orders too, I swear! Send 'em on down Moses style if You want, but I'll be the first to admit that that guy had way more swagger than I ever will, so something less theatrical is fine, too.

Thanks for listening, as always, and I hope in the process of writing this, at least one person feels less like a disaster, or is at least comforted to know that someone out there (ME) is as huge a disaster as they are. We can be disasters together! I'll keep on truckin', and I'll try to help them keep truckin' too. Love ya!

Your Will Be Done and all that,
Me

Quarter Century Lessons

2010-01-20T17:35:00.006-05:00

I turned 25 this past year, and I realized that I have learned a lot of lessons in my life, many of which seem to have turned up in the past few months. I'm not sure if it's because I'm actually wiser and more perceptive in my old age, or just because I am now more aware of my age and feel the need to be sagely. Either way, I thought I should share some of my favorite recent and not-so-recent discoveries with you. In honor of the years of my life, I have chosen to share 25 of my favorite snippets of wisdom with all of you. Most of them are my own, and others are just little gems I feel the need to bestow upon you.

1. If everyone in the world is acting like a fucking idiot for one week, it's probably PMS. If everyone in the world is acting like a fucking idiot for longer than that, you are probably right. There are a lot of fucking idiots around.

2. You shouldn't let other people decide your short-term goals. You can ensure that they don't by firmly telling them "you don't decide my short-term goals", which is a more eloquent and updated version of the first grade favorite "you're not the boss of me".

3. The day you go to the doctor and will potentially be seen in your underwear is not the day to wear black boyshort underwear with light pink lace trim.

4. On that note, you should always wear some form of underwear. Take it from a girl who often wears skirts, and also often trips and lands ass over teakettle.

5. Assess your body weight and dress appropriately. It sounds sort of obvious, but the wording was coined by some girls I met at SU in 2002. It's so simple, and so true. Basically, if you are cokefiend-skinny, don't wear spandex. If you are a sumo wrestler or could double for one in a movie, don't wear spandex. You know what? Let's just all lay off the spandex. Leggings were cool in the 1980s and briefly in 2006, may they rest in peace.

6. A sandwich always tastes better when someone else makes it for you.

7. In your life, you are going to meet a small handful of people who are going to love you and be there for you no matter what. You are also going to meet several people who you want to be in this group that aren't. Learn to recognize the difference and cherish all of these people accordingly.

8. Red hair is both a gift from God and a warning label.

9. If you have the choice between eating your ice cream in a cone or eating it in a dish, and you choose to eat it in a dish, think about what kind of person that makes you.

10. Speaking of ice cream, people who don't like sprinkles are not to be trusted.

11. Aviator sunglasses are only acceptable when donned by shirtless volleyball-playing Top Gun pilots, fictional or actual. Otherwise, they are the hallmark of a douchebag.

12. Love is the best gift you can ever give or receive. A puppy with a bow around its neck is a close second.

13. Moving across the country because you're bored, changing majors in grad school, eating Taco Bell past midnight, eating Chinese food at any time of day, and basically every drinking game ever invented shall eventually become chapters in my autobiography, tentatively titled "Things That Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time".

14. Don't waste your time or money eating Pita Pit, it's just a five dollar sandwich on different bread.

15. Traveling is a great way to expand your horizons. And if you're me, your dating options.

16. At any given moment, on any given day, no matter where I am or what I am doing, Adam Lambert's eye makeup looks way better than mine.

17. Thanks to television, I know that my entire high school life was a lie, because cheerleaders are unintelligent, vindictive skanks who wear their uniforms 24/7/365, including times when they are in gym class and traveling to show choir singing competitions. This is quite a stark contrast to my own teen existence as a multi-season cheerleader, when we wore our uniforms to school on the days of home games, and no more than once per week, and also were generally not whores with limited vocabularies.

18. In Canada, Canadian bacon is called ham, Canadian geese are called geese, and Canadian tuxedoes, well, let's just say Canadians don't really appreciate that reference.

19. If you're going to get mowed down by a BMW SUV careening around a corner at Mach 5, consider carrying about 60 lbs of boxed food and canned goods while doing so. Graham cracker pie crusts may have to be sacrificed, but your femurs will thank you.

20. Don't be afraid to eat the extra cupcake. -Eric Peterson

21. An expansive knowledge of classic rock and 1980s professional wrestling will be rewarded, usually with an offer for a date or a free beer.

22. The brand of beer in a young man's hand makes him exponentially more or less attractive, but any brand of beer in a young woman's stomach has the former effect.

23. Everyone's an expert when it comes to exercise and fitness, including but not limited to your chain-smoking neighbor, the aged meathead that lives at the gym, and the portly woman who answers the phone at your insurance agency. Don't take exercise advice from anyone who offers it up unsolicited.

24. Most things that are said jokingly are really only half-joking.

25. If you know a girl who has written no less than three blog entries about the flavor changes to Runts candy and subsequently spearheaded a letter-writing campaign to Willy Wonka, this is probably not the type of girl you should take life lessons from.

Party In The USA

2009-12-10T14:44:00.010-05:00

Apparently the USA was a little late on the uptake since Miley Cyrus' "Party in the USA" song has been around since this past summer, but I was recently invited to a Facebook event of the same name, and I wanted to share it with all of you so that you, too, can attend the Party. In the USA.

Tonight at 10:30pm EST, you are cordially invited to listen to Ms. Cyrus' anthem and nod your head and move your hips like "yeah". Or dance around in the foolish manner of your choosing in the privacy of your own home.

Here is the video so you can crank it and participate:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M11SvDtPBhA

That's a still from the video, and I have a little bone to pick.

Miley Cyrus, you are cute and talented, but you are also definitely not MY daughter, because if you were, your eyes wouldn't be shalaqued in whorish makeup, your shorts would be three inches longer, your cleavage would be out of sight, and you most definitely would not be dancing in truck beds and gyrating around mic stands at the age of 16. GO PLAY WITH BARBIES!

Goddamn kids today.

Anyway, hope you can all join in at 10:30pm, and in attire appropriate to your age and culture. Happy Partying in the USA.

Sass Factory: Wedding in Vegas

2009-11-04T20:07:00.023-05:00

You caught me. I stole the title of the not-so-well-known made-for-TV movie Saved by the Bell: Wedding in Vegas, in which Zack and Kelly finally (try to) tie the knot, and shenanigans ensue, mainly because no one really understands where this came from or how the casts of Saved by the Bell and SBTB: The College Years suddenly got smashed together into a half-assed attempt at closure after all those years. This is why Saved by the Bell: Hawaiian Style should have remained the only entry in the SBTB saga with a titular colon and subtitle, but the actors' fledgling careers at the time and the producers' midguided decisions are neither here nor there. I stole it because I think we all know how I feel about the way engagements have gone since they got the internet treatment, but I never really got to finish my Oh No They Didn't collection. I forgot Part II: The Wedding.

I would just like to proclaim here and now that if I ever create a website for my wedding, someone needs to take me out pasture ASAP. Seriously, I'm making my feelings known now so that come that day, at least one of you will be a good friend and remind me, with the help of a shotgun, that I wanted to never, ever be that girl.

I know what you're thinking. What if my fiance wants a wedding website? Well let's just say I'll have a major dilemma on my hands, given that I would never have knowingly become engaged to the sort of person who would support such a thing. I would also never marry someone who prefers wine to beer or wears exceedingly tight pants (save for the unlikely possibility of my marrying a professional athlete, in which case, carry on, Baby).

I don't know why these things bother me so. I suppose they're just dealbreakers because they are ultimately indicators of larger incompatibilities between us. The wine over beer, the tight pants - these things tell me who he is inside. It's much like the way a chin strap is the hallmark of a douchebag. (To be honest, I kinda appreciate guys sporting them, because at least they're giving me an early, outward sign that I should definitely not date them, let alone talk to them, and this really cuts down on the timely potential-date filtering process!) You see, the facial hair, much like the the wine-loving and the tight pants... they aren't the problems, they're the symptoms. They're pointing toward a diagnosis of you are SO not for me-itis. And also? I simply refuse to try to and spend the rest of my life with someone who I suspect would borrow my skinny jeans if he were certain he wouldn't get caught.

Disclaimer: That was probably all very offensive, but stand fast:
1. It's my blog and that's the point. I exaggerate and pull pop culture examples to make a point about issues I see as interesting, funny, or strange in some way. Remember, this is all coming from a girl who once wrote no less than three blogs about the changes to Runts candy.
2. I dislike lots of things that other people like, such as coffee and the combination of chocolate and peanut butter. So my thinking wedding websites are stupid doesn't mean you, your fiance(e), or your website are stupid - although I'm sure the correlation is not completely negligible - it just means they are not for me.
3. I'm not talking about your wedding or website in particular, I am talking about the new trend of getting married and being a rabid jerk about it a la True Life: I'm Getting Married, Whose Wedding is it Anyway, Bridezillas, Platinum Weddings, etc. Although if I know you, the chances are very good that I have absolutely visited your wedding website (and the pictures from your subsequent nuptuals) and laughed and/or gagged a little bit.

It's not that I have a problem with personal websites. After all, who writes a blog that isn't a complete narcissist? It's not the vanity I have a problem with. It's the schmaltz. There are a lot of great things about the internet, but watching brush script of your names and wedding date dance across a collage of overly-posed black and white portraits of you and your fiance in coordinating outfits gazing into each other's eyes accompanied by a Muzak version of "Love Lifts Us Up Where We Belong" is - get ready for it - not one of said great things.

What it comes down to is just that I'm really, completely over Wedding Fever. The amount of time, money, and effort put into weddings, wedding magazines, wedding websites, and wedding television shows these days is absolutely deplorable, and I feel ashamed every time I watch or witness any of these things. I know weddings are fun and joyful (sometimes, and only for the people in them and perhaps their immediate families) but I have a hard time digesting the whole "fairytale for a day" fantasy. I tend to think of myself as a very down-to-earth person, but I'm somewhat terrified that even I am one day going to get swept up in all this nonsense with all the help of societal and familial pressures. That being said, the average girl, being a little more Pretty, Pretty Princess than myself, is really going to have a hard time keeping her wits about her.

Therefore, I put together a little list of truths (I'm going to call them truths whether or not you agree with them) that we can all remember, myself included, should we some day get a little too wrapped up in taffeta and ego.

1. No one cares about your wedding as much as you do. This includes the website, invitations, dresses, flowers, menu selection, guest list, seating arrangements, DJ, locale, clergy, and any other mountain you choose to construct out of a mole hill. If something goes wrong, no one really cares. Most people don't like weddings that much anyway, especially if they don't know you very well. It's just sort of an annoying chore to go to the second wedding of your boss' youngest daughter, and no amount of prime rib and Kool & The Gang will ever soothe that. The guests just want to hand you the obnoxious $160 useless countertop kitchen appliances for which you registered, get a little buzzed at your open bar, and get the hell outta Dodge before they get dragged into some tired line dance.

2. Stop talking about your wedding. (See Truth #1). Oh you're getting married? You did mention that. Six times in the past four hours, actually, but yes, that is very exciting! Stop torturing your cubicle mates with the gory details about your seventeen potential photographers or the exact shades of pink you plan to have your calla lilies dyed. They are just trying to be polite or they are your enabler. Nobody wins here. This is especially true for those with long engagements. Wedding banter is barely exciting for the non-involved for eight minutes, let alone the gestational period of an elephant.

3. It will be over in one day. And then you are going to be smacked in the face with the harsh reality that you just spent years planning it and dropped what could have been a down payment on a home or a months-long vacation in the South Pacific to play princess for a day, only to wake up the next morning to realities of normal life such as your aging cat throwing up all over your new bedspread. You are just setting yourself up to be depressed afterward. Anything that goes wrong, as well as anything that goes right, won't matter tomorrow. It's the relationships and feelings and memories that remain. Remember that the next time you're trampling skyscrapers in a Japanese metropolis, or just screaming at your mother and best friend for not being sympathetic enough about the dress shop making your veil out of the wrong French lace.

4. Speaking of princess for a day, the point of a wedding is to get married. That sounds stupid and obvious but I think that people tend focus so much on staging a circus that would make Cirque du Soleil blush that they forget there is a growing relationship at the center of all this. Nearly breaking off engagements because of the stress of wedding planning is irony that I hope is not lost on our young, hopeful brides-to-be. If people spent half as much time improving their relationships, working on their marriages, and making their significant others happy as they did planning their weddings, maybe there would be fewer divorces, you know?

Here's a good marker of your priorities: would you still be just as excited to get married if you had to peel away all the fluff, and had to have my grandparents' wedding? They got married at the age of 21 in 1935 with two witnesses (their good friends) and a justice of the peace, dressed in a sensible knee length frock that wasn't even an actual wedding dress, and a gray three piece suit. The point is this: they were young, it was during the Depression, and although it would have been lovely to have a huge party, my grandparents weren't focused on a wedding, they were focused on being married. And they happily stayed that way the rest of their lives.

Yes, it's always exciting to play dress up and get attention, but what should be more exciting is knowing you have (hopefully) found someone who loves, or is at least alright with, your hair being in his sink for the rest of his life. Or that you're forever going to be with a girl who doesn't mind washing your sweaty gym clothes because she loves you. You should be excited that you're making it official, wearing a ring. Getting a new last name, a new family. That's what it's all about, people. If my own sensibilities can't keep me grounded when I start planning my own wedding someday, I know that the spirit of my grandparents will. Three hundred guests, fancy outfits, a ten-piece band, and a mountain of gifts might make you and your friends and family happy for a day, but time has shown that for about half of all couples, it didn't make them happy for a lifetime.

But you know what I am certain will last a lifetime? The emotional scars your wedding website gave me.

I'm Old and You're a Moron

2009-11-02T17:18:00.012-05:00

I love nail polish as much as the next (girly) girl, but the fact that what is normally a $23 bottle of Chanel nail polish is currently going for over $80 on eBay simply because its color, Jade (fancy fashion talk for MINT GREEN), is tragically hip right now does not really sit well with me. I think if you're so enamored of that color, you should take your $82 (plus shipping) to the Home Depot, where you will be able to buy three gallons of mint green paint for your living room and have plenty of money leftover so that you can buy a 2 x 4 and hire someone to beat you with it for being the kind of idiot who thinks $82 nail polish the color of pigeon shit is a sound investment.

I had Manic Panic mint green nail polish circa '96 that I bought from Hot Topic because I thought (knew) I was the shit, and it certainly did not put me out eighty bucks, which I might add was approximately three years' allowance back then. I was talking about this recently with my friend of almost ten years. I really enjoy that I am getting to the age where I can:

1. say that I've been friends with people for ten years;
2. reminisce about the hilarious/idiotic/embarrassing things I did ten or more years ago;
3. adopt a "God damn kids today!" attitude and say things like "oh child, please!" , "back when I was growing up..." , and "that shit would NOT fly in the nineties!"

I love nostalgia, which is why it was a really good idea for me and aforementioned friend of ten years to dress up like this for Halloween:

I'm thinking about dressing like that more often. It was fun to wear copious amounts of blue eyeshadow, leg warmers (basically giant gloves for your ankles) and other such things that make absolutely no sense. People do that now, but today's version of ridiculous and excessive involves less spandex, neon, and whimsy, and more "irony" (fucking hipsters) and $82 nail polish.

I'm getting old. And it's awesome.

Sarah Palin Envy

2009-10-24T23:49:00.010-04:00

In case you haven't heard, Sarah Palin is coming out with a memoir. This guy, from the AOL discussion boards, evidently holding a PhD in Psychobabble Bullshit, changed my life today. My distaste for all things Sarah Palin and the fact that I identify as a feminist can only mean one thing: I want to be Sarah Palin. (As always, his crap grammar/punctuation/spelling, not mine).

PEKennedy2 11:45 PMOct 25 2009

Why are all these feminist so "afraid" of Sarah Palin? Is it because she represents everything they are not - but now wish they were?

Wow, you really whacked that nail on the head, buddy! You are exactly right. I'm a feminist and I'm therefore "jealous" of everything Sarah Palin "has".

You know, I've always wanted to be a local beauty pageant queen turned failed sportscaster with Mom hair who later becomes the mayor of a two-bit redneck town only to get haphazardly slapped onto the national stage through a series of markedly bad and desperate decisions made by a senator in the sunset of his political career. I can't wait til his people then wrap me in Prada jackets and fix my hair in that certain way that fools the world into thinking I am the Next Big Thing for all of three minutes before it comes out that my very unmarried, very teenage daughter is very pregnant, but no worries because they're "engaged" and we are good Americans with traditional family values!

And I can't tell you how badly I've longed for the day whereupon parodies of my legendary and extraordinary cluelessness become fixtures on satirical and non-satirical television programming alike, and then I'd like to top it all off by getting my folksy-accented ass handed to me on the national stage by someone who has been in politics longer than I have been alive. I think I will then say a series of things that people from everywhere on the political spectrum will agree are patently stupid, all while mispronouncing the word nuclear ad nauseum and toting around my gaggle of children and doofy husband who insists on forever being clad in a snowmobiling parka while America cringes at my weekend recreational activities including but not limited to my penchant for shooting wild animals with the help of a sniper rifle and a helicopter. Also, fuck polar bears.

Then, after my epic failure in the national limelight and helping my beloved Republican party lose a very important election, I will continue to say things that make intelligent people cringe and embark on a series of state money and power swindling scandles involving plane tickets for mother/daughter shopping trips to New York and my weird brother-in-law, but decide to act like I'm too good for all this "Washington insider" drama and peace out early on my gubernatorial duties to pursue my deluded hopes that I'll some day be president, wait no, have a talk show, wait no, be a correspondent for Fox News, and probably also design a folksy-but-fashionable low-end clothing line for the Home Shopping Network, and follow all of that up with a memoir of my oh-so-tragic fifteen minutes, which I shall entitle "Going Rogue: An American Life".

Do you know what really would have been rogue, Sarah Palin? To go back to your life with dignity. To fade into obscurity quietly and peacefully. To not write a motherfucking memoir.

(Breath.)

Now that we've taken care of you, onto the Meghan McCain McTitties scandal on Twitter. Parenthetically, I don't do that tweeting nonsense because I am far too verbose to articulate my feelings into 140 characters, so in short (ironically), eff that noise.

Apparently one night she puts up a picture of herself on one of her nights "in", then the world goes ape-shit, and she's all "Oh my goooddd why is everyone freaking out? I'm just in my pajamas." And I sympathized with her because she's young and cute and wants to be a half-public figure. I thought to myself, I too am a young woman that enjoys wearing tank tops and sweatpants about my own domicile and hey, skin happens. But then I saw the picture in question:

CHIIIIIIIIIIIILD, puh-LEASE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

There is no way you could have thought that your pouty lips, just-took-a-roll-in-the-hay hair, and boobs higher than Cheech & Chong was in any way "not a big deal" and "just a tank top". An A, B, and even small C cup could have gotten through this relatively unscathed, but since you are toting around what appear to be dwarf planets in your tiny shirt, you are down for the count.

Let's be honest. You are a smart girl. Your bedroom eyes and little smirk tell us all you knew exactly what you were doing, and now you are mad because you got called out on using your McAssets to sell your McPoliticalBeliefs. You can't be a walking contradiction, what with your going on Tyra and talking about healthy body images and self-respect and then flashing your ripe melons all over your microblog for your 76,000 followers and then some to see, and then having the audacity to be surprised at what people are calling you and acting like you don't understand what the problem is.

The problem, my dear, is boobs. Boobs are fascinating and have an appeal that transcends LITERALLY all other earthly things and unfortunately no one cares what you say, think, or do when you are letting THOSE THINGS do the talking. Quite frankly you're a little old to be learning this lesson now, but here it is: every woman with a formidable rack needs to know how to deploy the troops carefully, you know what I'm sayin'? This is ONE situation where you should take a cue from Sarah Palin and go for the buttoned-up sexy librarian look. People might call you a lot of things, but tramp will not be one of them.

Video Blog: The Rainbow Connection

2009-10-13T21:17:00.008-04:00

My first video blog ever!

You'll have to watch to see what it's about, but I'll give you a hint: I found it. The rainbow connection. There might have been lovers and dreamers involved, I can't say for sure, but it definitely involved me.

My favorite part is how it's paused on what is very well my most insanely flattering freeze frame of all time. Just hit play so it can buffer, smart ass. Enjoy!

Working Girl

2009-10-04T22:31:00.009-04:00

Why does everyone complain about having to work? Working is not all that bad. From what I can see of the working world, there are a great deal of perks, such as making a lot of new friends and getting free coffee, all while getting paid and still having plenty of time to attend to one's Facebook. Keep in mind, this is not something everyone has the privilege of doing! A lot of people don't work because they:

A. can't.
B. lack the motivation and drive necessary to hold down a job for any reasonable amount of time.
C. have too damn many kids, to the point where it makes more fiscal sense to just be your own daycare provider.
D. are what we like to refer to as "casualties of recession".

Additionally, I would like to point out that I "work" in the sense that I drag my ass out of bed far too early in the morning for my liking and show up somewhere every day only to be underappreciated and driven crazy by those around me. The major difference of course is that I do not have, say, $38,000 + a sweet health benefits package to show for it. Anyone who complains about working needs to go back to college for the better part of a decade and relive a life that basically amounts to indentured servitude; then they might appreciate all the great perks of being employed; namely money. And no homework. And dental insurance!

I, for one, have endless assignment to-do lists and $13.06 in my checking account, so I would love to be a working girl right now, save for the whole Reeboks/skirt suit combo and with hair a little less close to God than this:

I became obsessed with that movie circa 1989. It doesn't make a whole lot of sense why a five year-old girl chose to spend her time watching the plight of a Staten Island night school graduate as she claws, schemes, and sleeps her way to the top of the late eighties Wall Street corporate ladder. But then again, by now I assume you are all well acquainted with what a strange young lady I am and it should really come as no surprise that my idiosyncrasies extend far back into my youth. This is, after all, coming from the same girl who played "lawyer" instead of "house" and forced her cousin, almost four years her senior, to be her secretary. (Thanks, Kendra. You were a great assistant.)

I have a long, torrid history of being career-oriented before I could even write in cursive. Let us not forget that I also was obsessed with the 1991 [crappy] motion picture Don't Tell Mom the Babysitter's Dead, in which a young Christina Applegate, fresh from her days of skanky Married with Children stardom, is forced to accept a full time job at the age of 17 to provide for herself and her four younger siblings while her absentee mother galavants around Australia with her boyfriend for an entire summer. At the legging-clad tender age of seven, I wanted to be just like the character Suellen [aside from the dead babysitter part], what with her resume padding and haphazard landing of sweet executive jobs at fashion companies, thanks in large part to her outstanding ability to deploy the chic and timeless fashions of that era:

Moral of the story: Working isn't so bad, especially for girls these days. Considering the lack of requisite big hair and heavy eyeliner befitting Whitesnake videos, we have it pretty good now. We get to do a lot of cool things like negotiate radio mergers and save uniform companies from disbandment, and all with a lot less sexual harassment than Tess and Suellen had to put up with. If they faced the boys club that used to be corporate America head-on and in those clothes, we have it easy. So sack up, hoes.

Actual Things I've Said or Thought Today: Evidence That I'm a Crazy Person

2009-09-29T00:13:00.002-04:00

I would rather kick puppies and infants than write three papers right now. I'd do it. Gently.

I would rather get kidnapped, beaten, and thrown in a car trunk and dropped off in a ditch somewhere than do this project. Ok, that was a little extreme.

It's fucking Yom Kippur and we don't have the day off? Oh wait, Naz doesn't have any Jews. I miss going to school with Jewish people. And people from other states. And boys, while we're on the subject.

God, Central New York weather today is more bipolar than I am.

I'm tired. Maybe I need to start drinking coffee. Holy shit, did I just think that? (If you know me, you understand how particularly blasphemous this thought is. I've never had a cup of coffee in my life.)

Mark my words, Smyth Hall will be ablaze before I fail an entire two credit course because of my lack of 1" margins.

If I eat this mint chocolate chip ice cream AND a Halloween half moon cookie, that might perk me up a bit and my homework will get done faster.

I guarantee the invention of APA rules has caused at least one untimely death.

Facebook quiz results are causing me to question my faith in humanity. Mmmm... *clicks "hide"*.

I did not think I'd live to see the day when I'd rather watch professional football than continue my current activity, and yet, here it is. Is this a sign that I need to change my life path?

Real zombie survival odds? Depends on which type of zombies. Dawn of the Dead zombies? I'd probably be alright. 28 Days Later zombies? Fuck it, I can't run that fast. It you can't beat em, join em. No more homework for me.

Fifth Graders & Other Things I Am Smarter Than

2009-09-22T21:20:00.015-04:00

The girl currently on Are You Smarter Than a Fifth Grader? makes me want to eat shards of glass.

1. She doesn't know the capital of Kansas. (Topeka)
2. She thought the Sahara desert was in Asia despite her being from Asia and living there until she was 5. (We were looking for the Gobi Desert)
3. She just said that we are protected from cruel & unusual punishment by the second amendment. (2 is the right to bear arms, C & UP is 8, learn the god damn pnemonic device.)

American game shows now are deplorable and reward idiots with no apparent knowledge, skill, or value to the human race whatsoever. Ok, I'm just bitter because I applied to Wheel of Fortune when I lived in California and that jackass Pat Sajak never called me. I have been playing along to Wheel! Of!... FORTUUUNNNNE! since I was old enough to idolize Vanna White simply for the fact that she so resembled my Barbies.

I have had my Wheel of Fortune three-pronged plan of attack organized for some time now:

1. I would be the player in the red section despite the fact that I hate the color red. I'd rather be blue or yellow but yellow almost always loses and blue is reserved for the cute young guy in his military uniform or the plump congenial black man wearing a sweater vest who you are pretty sure works at your post office. Red always dominates despite the fact that everyone roots for GI Joe and Sweater Vest. (See? Admittedly this is a girl in uniform, but not bad considering I found that picture AFTER I wrote this blog.)

2. Never, never, never buy vowels. "U"s are not now, nor will they ever be, worth $250 a pop. Just keep spinning and guessing consonants but do not, I repeat DO NOT, keep guessing letters when you, Pat, the audience, and functional illiterates know the answer to the puzzle. You are just trying to rack up money and everyone, especially my Grandma (because she is still religiously watching this show in Heaven), gets pissed. Grandma and the WOF Gods look down upon gluttony and you WILL hit bankrupt or lose a turn. Sweater Vest will then solve the eight word puzzle that has one "Q" missing.

3. When I am the contestant who gets to the final round, I will choose the "L" out of the prize options (because it's my initial), and although C, D, M, and A are the standard letters chosen by said contestant, I will not choose them because A) I am a rogue like that, and B) Merv Griffin was NOT, nor will he ever be (especially because he's dead) ready. for. this. girl.

Once upon a time, I had a life dream of being on The Price is Right and being invited to "come on down" by the buttery-smooth voice of a besequined jacket-donning Rod Roddy (may he rest in peace) and leaping into the arms of Bob Barker, who would then receive a granddaughter-esque kiss on the cheek from yours truly in a homemade t-shirt that would say something along the lines of "Barker's Next Beauty". Rod died and Bob retired, and I, standing in solidarity with The Price is Right of my childhood, The Price is Right that I watched on a console television whilst splayed across my grandparent's brown living room carpet, refuse to ever attempt contestantship on that program, much less watch it.

Mark my words that I will NOT make the same mistake with Pat & Vanna. They've got a lot of solid years left for me to appear on their program but I'm not going to take my chances and end up on some bastardized version of my beloved Wheel hosted by like, Ryan Seacrest, while a Kardashian sister (whichever is currently not pregnant) flips my letters in no more than 2 yards of rump-hugging fabric, because standing on a Burbank sound stage that doesn't include Pat, Vanna, and her never-repeating parade of fabulous pageant dresses is a puzzle I never want to solve. It's all yours, Sweater Vest!

The Gospel According to T-Rex

2009-09-17T19:22:00.018-04:00

I know what you're thinking.

1. That title is blasphemy.
2. Who the hell does this jerk think she is falling off the face of the blogosphere for like three months and then coming back and talking about dinosaurs like nothing ever happened? (You just made me use that disgusting word "blogosphere". Now look what you've done.)

Well, I have answers.

1. I'm already going to hell anyway.
2. I haven't been feeling very funny lately. Not to say that I'm always funny. I'm usually more the delicate balance of sarcastic, bitter, and crazy lady that periodically yells at service industry peons without provocation. In that case, I guess I haven't changed all that much! Anyway, you may have read my last blog, which I recently took down, and if you didn't read it, well then screw you for not visiting this site for that long.

If you read it, you have a good idea of why I've been hurling insults at postal workers of late (oh take a break and descend from your cloud of judgment, will you? You go visit Mary Lou at the Henrietta office, try to send an international package, and tell me she doesn't deserve it.) It's just that being depressed to the point that my mother actually said to me in a semi-concerned voice, "just don't start drinking or doing drugs" (thanks, Mom) takes up a lot of my time. I shouldn't complain, at least it's more specific and less publicly humiliating than her all-encompassing "Make good choices!" that she used to shout to me in front of all my friends whenever I was being picked up to go anywhere in high school.

I guess this just means that either:
A) I'm feeling funny again
B) I was inspired by a recent conversation about the creation of the earth
C) Both A and B
D) I'm just being self-indulgent; par for the course.

So this past Monday I was at a football party (Stop right there. Ridiculous, I know. In case you're confused about what this girl was doing at a party singly purposed for watching football, let me clarify that I prepared and indulged in a lot of very good snacks and brought a book. Now it should all makes sense again. Continue.) and one of the attendees was discussing his oceanography class that day in which a young woman prefaced her class participation with "Let me just start out by saying I don't believe in evolution." Apparently she also stated that she believes the earth is about 10,000 years old, to which I somewhat angrily and oh-so-eloquently retorted, "Where the fuck does this chick think dinosaurs come from then?!"

It was then that I realized that strictly speaking, between subscribers of either school of thought, that is, Christianity and Dinosaur...anity?, there can be no peaceful coexistence. Being a friend of Jesus and a friend of the dinosaurs (because I live in this time period. Had I lived back then, I think "meal of the dinosaurs" would have been more suitable.), I felt conflicted by the fact that I consider myself both a Christian and a lover of Dinosaurs. So much so that both get capitalized.

My brother also loves dinosaurs... sorry, Dinosaurs, but from what I gather, he is markedly less into the Christian understanding of God than I am. And yet he seems to have it more figured out than I ever will, because his Facebook (the end-all, be-all of personal expression) religious views say "God created Dinosaurs in order to test our faith in science." Way to cover all the bases, bro. You are far cleverer than I. Especially because I'm not even sure if cleverer is a word.

So according to Christians, or at least these ones, the earth is not all that old. I haven't the slightest idea how they know this because I don't personally remember there being a timeline in the book of Genesis or a birthday cake full of candles in Sunday school, but apparently it's like 6,000 years old or something. Unless you're a Jew, in which case they are more precise and it's like 5,774 or something. I don't actually know, but I'm also not sure why this one girl says 10,000. Then again, this is coming from the girl who admitted that she believed in natural selection despite the fact that natural selection is oh, ya know, JUST THE ENTIRE BASIS of the evolution theory.

Anyway, the whole thing flung my soul into this primordial-oozing inner conflict because I wondered if I just was being "not Christian" enough by thinking that the earth really is a smidge older than 6000 (add a handful of zeros there and we're a little closer) and ALSO once had Dinosaurs roaming its slightly-different-than-they-currently-look continents. Am I, like my brother, meshing them all together to affirm my semi-Christian, semi-evolutionist ideas? Was I trying to have my cake and eat it too?

But I worked it out as I always do, by pointing the finger of failure in a direction other than my own. I realized it's not me that's the hypocrite, despite the fact that in my own convenient Christian beliefs (you know, the ones in which I cherry-pick the parts of the bible I like as being God's Awesome Work [hooray for more frivolous capitalization] and write off the rest as being misogynistic fluff planted there by a bunch of grouchy, disgruntled men whose wives and gay friends were running amok far beyond their liking) these two things can coexist.

The real hypocrites are people like Sarah Palin who think the universe was created all of ten minutes before Godknowswhat built Stonehenge, thereby denying the existence of Dinosaurs, save for when they are pumping their remains, God rest their gigantic souls, into the gas tank of their insert-American-made-SUV-here. The real hypocrites are the people who defend their religious beliefs despite a strong lack of evidence and then make websites about how Dinosaurs aren't real based on shady evidence.

Don't people have the right to "just believe" in Dinosaurs the way they "just believe" in God? Can't people look at Jurassic Park the way Christians look at Passion of the Christ, except with far less unadulterated gore and Jew scape-goating? Seriously, there are dinosaurs eating people in the former and it still manages to be far less graphic then Mel Gibson's Aramaic-subtitled epic. Passion of the Christ falls into the genre of what I like to call "Torture Porn" which also includes the Saw movies and Hostel.

Wouldn't it be better if we just all got together and agreed that Dinosaurs, majestic creatures that they are, albeit rumored to have been quite dense, might have been intelligently designed? Case closed.

Speaking of dense and torture, does anyone watch The Biggest Loser? I watched a full episode tonight for the first time and I've got to say it was simultaneously hilarious and horrifying. What a circus. We are clearly a savage and sadistic people if we so enjoy watching the rotund among us, who can barely climb a flight of stairs without breathing in a pattern befitting childbirth, struggle their way through what basically amounts to an Ironman competition (for them anyway) four days after they've first set chubby foot on a treadmill. Then we watch all their pained expressions, groans, stumbles, sweat drips, and chest heaves in the slowest of slow-motion, topped off with musical scores more congruous with axe-wielding gladiators charging into battle. I kid you not, one woman actually uttered the following:

"I climbed a mountain today, Mom... (sobs) two little butterflies followed me the whole way!"

Butterflies, G-dammit. It's all just a little too calculated and raunchy and pornographic and dramatic for my taste and I suspect Mel Gibson had something to do with it.

Where Have All The Cowboys Gone?

2009-06-20T15:53:00.003-04:00

I'm glad you asked, Paula Cole. Apparently you never thought to look in Arkansas.

There have been a lot of depressing headlines lately. Celebrity divorces. Kim Jong-il making the world feel the wrath of his short man syndrome. Interplanetary collisions in three billion years. You know, the usual stuff. So I was both surprised and kind of enchanted when I saw this headline today:

"Cowboy Lassoes Arkansas Boy From Well

DODDRIDGE, Ark. (June 18) — It was a cowboy to the rescue when a 7-year-old boy fell into an abandoned water well in southwest Arkansas.

Reed Nations lassoed Jonathan Easter out of the well with a lariat Tuesday morning before rescuers summoned by his grandmother could arrive. Jonathan was helping his aunt clear brush around an old house near Doddridge, about four miles from the Louisiana border. He fell 20 to 30 feet down the well, which has sand walls. Nations came from a nearby ranch and used a rope lariat to pull Jonathan to safety.

Jonathan escaped with only a cut on his arm, Miller County sheriff's deputy Alan Keller said. 'Nations is a modest cowboy,' Arkansas State Police Sgt. John Bishop said. '[He] doesn't want any notoriety.' Firefighters have covered the well."

That is just sooooo.... hot. I think I'd take my chances with a well if I was guaranteed a cowboy rescue at the end. In my dream version of said rescue, the theme from "The A-Team" is playing in the background when he comes riding in and saves the day. Swoooooon.

And you thought nothing good ever came from the bible belt.

Men, Thank Your Ladies

2009-05-28T00:41:00.004-04:00

...for not being this girl.

http://www.asylum.com/2009/05/27/woman-explodes-boyfriends-penis-with-firecracker/

"Every once in awhile a story comes along of a woman scorned that is so terrifying we have to cover it, despite the fact that we want to stick our heads in the sand and pretend it never happened. The story of 33-year-old Alik D. is one such cautionary tale.

The Russian man had recently decided to leave his girlfriend of two years after she had been pressuring him into marriage. She suggested a farewell dinner, during which she plied Alik with a heavy meal and heavier drinking.

When he decided to take a satisfied nap, she tied several firecrackers to his penis and lit them, sending Alik to intensive care where he is currently fighting for his life.

The girlfriend will face at least 12 years imprisonment. While we're not sure how long it would take to truly punish her for this heinous crime, we are absolutely certain this isn't what Alik meant when he asked his girlfriend for a final 'bang.' "

Way to rub salt in the wound with that non-essential pun there, fellas. I have to commend Asylum though, they are one of my favorite blogs despite being a self-proclaimed men's interest blog. I'm not a man, at least as far as you guys know, but they still manage to make me laugh, and they have perfected the art of making lists. Men after my own heart!

It's Not The World, It's You

2009-05-27T14:09:00.002-04:00

Something I like to get high and mighty about as a liberal is the fact that I take the time to know my opponent. I watch Fox News. I really try to like Elisabeth Hasselbeck. I read the angry conservative rants in my local newspaper and on blogs. Elephants are my favorite zoo animal.

I really try to understand where Righties are coming from. I am actually trying to like and respect you. But then you go and make things like this: http://www.boycottliberalism.com/ and then we are back to square one, AKA the square where you guys embarrass yourselves and I roll my eyes. Wait, that's all of the squares. Whatever.

Boycott Liberalism is a website that tells people who aren't bright enough to formulate their own decisions who they should and shouldn't like, what brands to buy, and what movies to avoid seeing. These are patriots who are warning us of the evil dangers of such public enemies as Ruth Bader Ginsburg, Ben & Jerry's Ice Cream, the new Star Trek movie, the AARP, and the country of Germany. Yes, the entire country of Germany.

Boycotting Common Sense also suggested that President Obama is not a Christian because he has skipped church on Sundays to exercise, and that he is most likely doing this to stay in good shape for a woman other than his wife, who they claim is not in good physical shape (nevermind the fact that Michelle Obama's guns have set off a celebrity body part media frenzy, the likes of which we have not seen since J. Lo's booty appeared on the scene and Jennifer Aniston was sporting "The Rachel" cut in the 1990s). Oh, and lest we forget, Ann Coulter is an American hero.

Sigh. Republicans, listen to me. THIS IS WHY EVERYONE HATES YOU.

You say stupid, stupid things and then act all bewildered as to why you are the "minority". You are arrogant and abrasive and chastise those who don't agree with you without so much as listening to anyone else sound off. You are all about the constitution and freedom of speech, that is until someone says or does something you don't like. You try to outshout one another on every Fox News program ever. You think that everything is a conspiracy set up by the liberal media, and the "liberal elite" (whatever that means, it's not that elite to be a sane person. You prettymuch check a box and you're "in"). You act as though everyone else in the world is clearly off their rocker.

1. Many of these are symptoms of Narcissistic Personality Disorder. Take a minute to drink that in. Nevermind, that was probably lost on those who didn't need to hear it. I'm just preaching to the choir now.

2. I have a little saying for things like this. It's not the world, it's you. Is everything really wrong, or do you think maybe YOU are wrong? If things never seem to go your way, it's because of you. Trouble does not stalk the innocent; it is merely the wake of people who ARE trouble.

I heard a great quote once that went something like "Everyone thinks of changing the world, but only the wise think of changing themselves." It is indeed the englightened man who looks outside of himself and says "Who am I? Why do I look at the world the way I do?" It is the crazy Republican who looks outside of himself and says "The god-damned homos and Jews ruin everything." This is why you are a dying breed, Republicans. Your antics scare even the people who kind of agree with you.

The silver lining in all this there isn't a Boycott Conservatism website. Why? Well, we don't need one. You aren't all that plentiful or powerful that anyone feels the need to boycott your very existence. We are tolerant enough to let you all go on peacefully in your own warped little world. We let you be and we are fine and happy with the liberal/conservative balance just the way it is. So you go on and boycott all you want. More ice cream for us.

Lauren Saves the GOP

2009-05-06T21:10:00.019-04:00

I can be accused of a lot of things, but being a Republican is not one of them, so many of you may be wondering why I'm giving Conservatives advice on how not to be epic failures. But if you think about it, it makes perfect sense. I'm such a bleeding heart that my heart bleeds even for those who pick on my bleeding heart.

Here's the thing: I love being on the side that I consider to be right. However, my joy in getting high and mighty over people is lost when they can't keep their party from embarrassing itself every fifteen seconds. It's just not fun when it's too easy, and you do a much better job of making yourselves look bad, ya know what I mean? Basically, I developed this list to help the Republicans scrape their party back into respectability and get back in the ring, proverbially speaking, so that I can go back to scoffing at your opinions in a fair fight.

1. As I write this, Elisabeth Hasselbeck is on Larry King being the representative for her fledgling party and talking about all the ways that Republicans are currently attending the school of hard knocks. MISTAKE NUMERO UNO. Elisabeth is a little shrill and hyper. Nobody likes shrill and hyper, regardless of the words exiting one's face. This is the main problem with the GOP right now. You are allowing people like Elisabeth Hasselbeck and Miss California USA, Carrie "Sideboob" Prejean, to represent your party. THIS IS BAD. Republicans, you have plenty of cool-headed, smart, articulate, reasonable people with great ideas in your party. And yet you allow all the whackjobs to be your talking heads. Step one to reviving your party is to kick out all of the following people (or at least tell them to stop speaking in public):
- Elisabeth Hasselbeck
- Ann Coulter
- Beauty queens who care about "protecting" marriage but don't seem to bother to protect their purchased boobs from internet stardom
- Rush Limbaugh
- That dick with all the bowties
- Rednecks who are only Republicans because they think people are trying to take their firearms away
- All those fundamentalist ministers and anti-gay rights politicians that are perpetually involved in gay sex scandals
- While we're on the Crazy Christian topic, maybe just kick all of them out too
- Minnesota Congresswoman Michelle Bachman, whose most recent public comment was that she found it "interesting" that both outbreaks of swine flu happened during Democratic presidential administrations. She's not "saying it's a cause, just a coincidence" that it happened "under Jimmy Carter". 1. That's not true. The first outbreak was during Republican Gerald Ford's administration in 1976, and 2. WHAT DOES SWINE FLU BREAKING OUT IN MEXICO HAVE TO DO WITH ANYTHING. Stop letting her talk. Just stop.

2. Speaking of the gays, I gotta say - I'm not really sure what being a Republican has to do with gay-hating. Someone should explain that to me because I thought you dudes were all about the government staying out of people's bid'ness. Shall we take a moment to examine what happened to Miss California Underage Nudeyshots USA? Yeah, she "spoke up for what she believes in", but look at the backlash. She could have answered that question and still stayed true to her beliefs by saying something about keeping it a states issue or some line of comparable bullshit. Think what you want about gay people, but realize how much your outspokenness against them having equal rights angers and alienates people. You are basically telling 11% of the US population they aren't invited to your grand old party, and that's just the gays alone. You're also alienating all the friends of the gays. I am failing to understand how this is a good business tactic.

3. Speaking of alienation, how do I say this gently? You're kind of, well, complain-y. You guys don't have the greatest track record of being nice to women, black people, hispanics, poor people, really poor people, prettymuch everyone that doesn't make $300,000 or more a year, people without health insurance, single parents, teenage parents, union people, people who want abortions, low hourly wage workers, young people, people with credit cards, non-college graduates, people who aren't married but sometimes have sex, drivers of foreign cars, anyone who isn't a veteran, and a lot of people who are veterans. I guess what I'm saying is... stop being such judgey cows. Perhaps if you didn't bitch about absolutely everyone, ever, more people would like you and check off your box when they register to vote. Hey, it's perfectly ok to "disagree" with lifestyles, just disagree more quietly.

4. You guys gotttaaaa stop with all that no sex before marriage stuff. Thanks to George Bush, more than $1 billion dollars was pumped into Abstinence-only sex education programs in the past decade, which have scientifically been proven time and again to be roughly as effective at preventing teen pregnancy and sexually transmitted diseases as just setting the cash on fire.

5. Let me say this loud and clear: NO ONE IS TRYING TO TAKE AWAY YOUR GUNS. Enough already. You all claim to be "proud Americans", and yet very few of you seem to have a grasp of how your precious constitution works (save for the second amendment). Even if someone (or more accurately, many ones) were trying to take away your guns, it would require nauseating amounts of legislation and supreme court cases, and then 38 of 50 states (3/4!) agreeing to it to pass such an amendment. This is so hard to do that it's only happened 27 times in 230 years or so, and most of them aren't even that important. We still haven't even passed the equal rights amendment that would basically add to the constitution that it's illegal to discriminate against women, which was first introduced in 1923. If the ERA can only get 35 states to agree to that in just a shade under a century, I'm pretty sure your guns are gonna remain safely racked on the back of your pickup for many years to come. There, you can stop having meetings and making obnoxious bumper stickers about it now.

6. I will gladly produce a list of Democrats who are complete and utter liabilities to all that is Democrat. But that's the difference between the left and right. We're willing to throw our own under the bus when they're being douchebags, but you guys will defend your fellow Republican beyond all reason. I have to kind of admire your team spirit, but when Bill O'Reilly is up there tearing apart every move made by Democrats but defending Republicans involved in sex scandal, you kinda have to consider that this might be undermining your credibility just a smidgen. It's ok to tell someone when they're being a jerk. If anything, that's only going to make you more popular with people from all over the political spectrum. Maybe even gay people too! Ok, well, let's not push it.

There are a lot of bright Republicans in the world that have good ideas and are competent, brilliant, wonderful people. Wherever they are (just kidding! wink wink), they need to take the reigns away from the TV reverends and borderline racist bony blonds. I truly believe that there is hope for you yet. I actually agree with you guys on a lot of things, like that we should be strict about immigration laws and be fiscally responsible and have fewer pregnant teenagers. Everybody wins when our teen uteri are not full of baby.

Sometimes I even have Republican moments, like tonight when CNN told me that the government has decided to "forgive" the $7 billion dollar loan we gave to Chrysler and I viscerally shouted a string of expletives that would make a sailor blush while almost punting my beloved Pooh Bear across the room. I got really fired up about it. If we're gonna start going on wild loan forgiveness benders, why not start by scratching a few zeros off my student loans? Those car company twats owe this country WAY more than I do or any other struggling student does. I can assure you my loans are much less than $7 billion dollars, though admittedly, it doesn't always seem like that. My statements have a disconcerting amount of commas. But I digress.

Seriously, President Barry & friends: this whole saving the crappy car companies is bad, BAD news bears. Stop trying to scoop water out of the sinking ship. The good part is that, being a Democrat, I'm very willing to tell my own people that they are dropping the ball. Dropping it HARD and dropping it OFTEN. See how easy it was? Catch on, Republicans - I think you're going to like it.

It's a Celebration, Bitches.

2009-05-04T21:35:00.008-04:00

Don't you love my title? My roommate Larry used to say that about prettymuch everything, but especially about things that we weren't particularly celebrating. And that is just one of many things that makes him magical. Here is another:

Try this on for size: I am making a list of things that are fantastic and need to be celebrated, and I am not using fantastic in the sarcastic way it has come to be primarily employed i.e. "I just stepped in shit. Fantastic." I mean fantastic in its true sense. As in the stuff of fantasy. I though it might be a nice change given that I usually make lists of things that blow, but what can I say, having a low tolerance for mediocrity is the cross I must bear.

1. Tomorrow is Cinco de Mayo and Thursday, May 7th is my 25th Birthday. No explanation required there! I don't want any presents, you can just honor my special day by drinking some beer and doing something embarrassing.

2. The Spring 2009 academic semester es finito (sticking with the Mexican theme despite the fact that I don't speak Spanish. Except on Facebook.)

3. Craig's List. In case you forgot why:
need a fake id
Reply to: gigs-qqfyq-1154465494@craigslist.org
Date: 2009-05-04, 5:52PM EDT

Hey I lost my id and need another, not looking to do any thing illegal. Dosnt have to even say 21 years old, just needs to look legit so I can do buisness

it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
Compensation: like not to much, materials and a little for ur time

4. My mother. Why? Well, you would only ask that if you aren't already aware of her amazingness, so I will tell you. It is because she elected to spend her Mother's Day on a family trip to see my brother and go to a Mets game. That's right, the woman who bore me prefers eating hot dogs and drinking beer in CitiField (RIP Shea) to going to some frou-frou brunch where we would likely eat cooked ham in an unavoidable fog of various Clinique and Estee Lauder perfumes while being stared at by a bunch of watercolor paintings of pastel flowers.

This is also a sizeable improvement from the four successive Syracuse University graduations, including my own, that I was forced to attend on Mother's Days 2003-2006. I am somewhat sad that I won't be able to see fellow SU alum Vice President Joseph Biden speak at my alma mater's commencement ceremonies this year, but I think I'll get over that rather quickly when I am surrounded by portly blue collar men from Queens and there is a bag of cotton candy in my lap. Just another reason to thank my mom for being my mom.

5. I was recently introduced to a blog that is the best thing that has ever happened to me, including being born and the twelve separate visits I have paid Walt Disney World since fetushood. Fuck You, Penguin is a beautiful symphony of wit, swear words, and pictures of animals. I highly encourage you to peruse one of my favorite entries, and then you can make the decision on your own whether or not you read every other entry in the hours thereafter.

Jaded Hipster Owls Think They've Seen It All

Do let me know whether or not you enjoyed this blog, because if you didn't, I'm going to have to set aside some time to consider the future of our friendship.

Happy spring everyone!

Strippernomics

2009-04-21T22:12:00.013-04:00

The end result of this incident is not actually funny, so I am at a loss as to why the reporters over at AOL thought they should open this sort of story with such a hilariously constructed sentence:

"AKRON, Ohio - A 52-year-old woman was attacked on her first day as an exotic dancer by a jealous co-worker wielding a stiletto heel, police said."

There has to be more to this story. I can't begin to fathom why someone would be jealous of a 52 year-old stripper, unless they were like, a 54 year-old stripper, in which case I am even more intrigued to know why demand for near-geriatric strippers exists. Not that you even need to read the rest of this article, but here it is if you're interested...

"Akron police Lt. Rick Edwards said the woman was assailed Friday night by a co-worker who didn't think the club needed more dancers. One of the dancers took her stiletto and repeatedly struck the woman in the face as she walked into the basement dressing room, police said. The woman was treated at a hospital and received seven staples. She has declined to press charges against her assailant. Police say the woman took the job because she needed the extra money. She has refused to talk to police about what happened."

What disappoints me the most is that the article had to take the down turn at the end in that thinly veiled reference to the economy with the little "needed the money" dig. Because no one can even read a news article about stripper fights for three damn minutes without having to hear some waahh-waaaahhhhhhh comment like that at the end about the plight of the desperate. I'm not really sure why everyone is under the impression that no one and nothing, including stripper violence, can go on functioning normally anymore in our world because of "this economy" and "these uncertain economic times". Blah blah BLLAAAHHHH. The only person that's allowed to bitch about the economy is the 52 year-old stripper, and only because it's very possible that she lost her previous job, which led her to senior citizen stripperdom and the subsequent facial lacerations. So unless you've recently turned to stripping and have the stiletto wounds to show for it, you probably have nothing to complain about.

Speaking of complaining, if I have to hear that trendy dipshit term "recessionista" one more time...

Not Your Grandma's Tea Party

2009-04-15T15:39:00.012-04:00

So apparently, republicans hate taxes or something. Who knew? Anyway, I just learned that there is this big movement (though how big can it really be if no one's heard of it?) to protest high taxes and government spending by having "tea parties" across the nation. And by across the nation, I mean towns that no one really cares about or has ever heard of that all happen to be in red states. Conservatives started by mailing teabags to their congresspeople back in February, and today, well, they're going to drink tea and hold up posters or something, like true American badasses. I'm getting the impression this is a little tip of the hat to the spirit of our forefathers who were protesting taxation without representation, and this is... nothing like that.

I'm all about the art of well-formed protest, and far be it for me to critique your political tactics, but I'm not quite sure if this is the best way to convey your feelings about high taxes...

If you haven't yet soiled yourself or fallen out of your chair, take a gander on Facebook at all the Teabagging groups and events going on today. My personal favorite is "In The Interest of Teabagging Congress". If there is one thing our pristinely moral congress needs, I'm sure a good Teabagging is at the top of the list.

The conservatives have proved one thing, though: they always claim to be more moral than democrats, and judging by the fact that democrats find this hilarious and the involved parties don't seem to fully understand what they're saying, I'm going to have to say they won the morality battle fair and square. Rachel Maddow can't even keep a straight face:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OLsKt4O4Yw8&feature=player_embedded

I can't believe that the phrase "harnessing the power of mass organized public teabagging" was just uttered on MSNBC.

Our forefathers are embarrassed right now. Your watered-down diet caffeine-free perversion-laced homage to their famous stand is making them roll in their graves. They dumped tons and tons of tea into the ocean as a big F.U. to British people, knowing full well they'd probably get shot for it. You, on the other hand, bought a 100 pack of Red Rose teabags, paid tax on it depending on your state, and then mailed a couple for 42 cents postage, also prettymuch a tax. On top of all that, not one of you thought to check Urban Dictionary or Wikipedia, or even watch any movie made in the past 20 years, to see if the verb Teabagging already meant something else. I'm sure the kid in the photo with the shit-eating grin sort of has an idea what he's saying, but the suits on Fox News absolutely do not, and given their gracious, tolerant attitudes toward the gays, they'd probably nix all the Teabagging talk if they had any idea.

If you're going to make a statement, make a statement. Remember the days when protests were like, scary and riotous? For god's sake, there was a bigger scene on a cold Monday night in 2003 when Syracuse won the national basketball championship. Marshall Street was about as crowded as Calcutta. People were climbing trees and setting fires and rocking cars. Where is that sense of chaos? Mailing teabags = not so persuasive, and you're not doing your campaign any favors by publicly announcing how you're gonna Teabag congress into submission. That's about as effective as protesting immigration reform and calling your demonstrations Dirty Sanchez parties.

Here are some more pictures of Republicans being really smart for your viewing pleasure:

There is a mortgage crisis on that man's poster. As for the "crisis of competnce", remind me again what the definition of irony is?

The most important question in all of this: which congressperson would you like to teabag?

P.S. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Teabagging

Planet of the Apes

2009-04-03T03:31:00.022-04:00

I've recently found that I've been spending far too much time getting addicted to more and more reality TV series lately. That in and of itself is pretty offputting, but there is a silver lining. Because of all my reali-"research", I have come to the conclusion that Charles Darwin is a liar.

If natural selection really existed, people like Daisy de la Hoya of Rock of Love 2 fame would not be allowed to exist, let alone have their own spinoff TV dating show that I am absolutely going to watch. Furthermore, if we as humans were still evolving, there would not be anyone left that is far enough off their rocker to want to come within germ-jumping distance of that walking cache of venereal disease. I think we can all agree that the best way to handle this problem is to contractually obligate reality TV show contestants to get sterilized in return for their 15 minutes of fame. The pride of New York's Capital Region, Arian Meyer, will still get to terrorize the VH1 set of Tough Love and give hand jobs in public as she pleases, and the world gets to rest easy knowing that there won't be any more of her. That's what I call a win-win.

Then again, not being able to have kids hasn't actually stopped anybody from having kids since like... 1976. I want so badly to believe that there is a safety net for the human race. I tend to think that Mother Nature generally makes good choices in that department. But evidently, no one really thinks we should give the old broad the time of day anymore. Here is an accurate reenactment of the Octomom's life journey to illustrate my point:

Mother Nature: Nadya Suleman? Bitch is crazy...better make her infertile.

Dr. Nutjob McFertilitySpecialist: You say infertile, I say opportunity to implant no fewer than 6500 fertilized embryos. That way you've got a good chance of ending up with a kid or 27.

That's not to say that all fertility treatments are bad. Some people genuinely want nothing more than to have their own kids, and it's great that we can help them have a few. Have 2.5 kids like the rest of America, one at a time. But perhaps when these people are a little too willing to be shot full of a baker's dozen of tiny popsicle babies, we should stop and consider that the world might benefit from preventing the passing on of their whackjob genes.

You know who else there needs to be fewer of?

- People that can't think of a baby name that doesn't end in "aden", "ayton", or some astoundingly bastardized spelling thereof. There are too many newborn to age five little shits overrunning creation who all seem to be named Aidan/Aiden/Aaden, Jaden/Jayden, Haden/Hayden, Caden, Braden/Braedon, Payton, Dayton, blah blah blah. For god's sake, just stop already and come up with a name that wasn't inspired by Britney Spears, Sex & the City, or some crappy city in Ohio, and remember that kids with creatively spelled names are always exponentially greater pains in the ass.

- Michael Vick. Ok, so there's only one of him, but that's already too much. There's a rumor going around that everybody's favorite puppy kicker is potentially getting released from prison in May. His grand plan is to work at a $10/hour construction job that will allow him to make so little money that he is "forced" to claim bankruptcy and won't have to pay his old settlements, including the $6.5 mill he owes the Atlanta Falcons for buying out the remainder his contract. Then, when that has all blown over, he plans to burst triumphantly back onto the pro football scene, which should work out fantastically after publicly screwing his former team out of $6 million or so. He's obviously thought that one out. You get right on that, dick.

- People who believe in and actually attempt liquid "cleanse" diets such as the MasterCleanse. Yes, there are actually people in the world who are not only operating under the impression that the living, breathing miracle that is their body requires treatment akin to what we bestow upon common backyard septic systems, but also decide that drinking the terribly appetizing combination of maple syrup, cayenne pepper, laxatives, and lemon juice is the best way to flush out all the gunk and lose a few pounds as a side bonus.

Bubble burster: it's not magic, people. It's modified anorexia for those who lack the discipline to actually not eat anything. The maple syrup gives you some form of glucose so you don't go all comatose and suffer from brain damage (not that MC participants are working with any notable gem to begin with), and the lemon juice is just there so you don't get scurvy during your two week vacation from food and good sense.

Nature or intelligent design or whatever it was came up with a highly superior and more natural scheme for how your body should clean itself, as evidenced by the fact that you probably quite regularly produce various liquids and solids, and you didn't even have to try. Don't ever let anybody tell you that you're not talented; you can turn any liquid into pee!

I'm somewhat concerned that the earth is soon going to realize what a bunch of turds humans have turned out to be and just shake us off once and for all. I think she might be warning us with all those periodic natural disasters that clear away a couple hundred thousand at a time. You know, wipe the slate clean so she can start over. Kind of like Mother Nature's own version of the MasterCleanse.

'Cuse Is In The House... Ohmagod, Ohmagod

2009-03-14T01:18:00.012-04:00

I almost put parentheses around those "ohmagod"s and then I realized how much I've been abusing my parenthetical privileges lately. And everyone knows you've got to properly ration your punctuation if you want to be taken seriously in this life. Props to you if you even understand that title; you are no bandwagoner.

You also may have noticed the color change. Keen observation. This time of year I'd normally spruce up the ol' ball and chain up with some green for St. Patrick's Day or perhaps some punchy spring colors. Yet recent events involving the basketball team of my alma mater and the fact that I have suddenly become able to tolerate televised sporting events have inspired me to show my support for Syracuse as they embark upon the Big East finals this weekend.

I must say, I highly enjoy the scrappiness that has spiked the past few games. I'm not a big fan of spectator sports but I have always appreciated testosterone-laced contention between young men who are operating under the impression that they are tough shit. I prefer my Eric Devendorf with a side of game-time altercations, hold the punching random girls on the street in the face. Alcohol-inspired girl-slapping notwithstanding, I fully support shenanigans such as leaping onto press tables when one sinks a 3-pointer at the buzzer, or letting loose celebratory gutteral screams in each others' faces or in no particular direction at all. Just because they are he-men like that:

ESPN color commentators are already referring to the Syracuse victory over UConn in the sixth overtime as EPIC. It has already been re-played on ESPN Classics. There are t-shirts and many a facebook status of my fellow alumni commemorating it. Apparently it was a big deal or something? Ok, it really was. I broke a personal record for most consecutive minutes of televised sporting event watched EVER in history. Several hours of sleep and half a pint of Ben & Jerry's Fossil Fuel were sacrificed for it. In case you're wondering, the lost sleep was completely worth finally seeing victory and eating fudge dinosaurs.

I have also developed an immense appreciation for what rabid, unabashed cockbags Syracuse fans are. They sing profane songs ad nauseum and unapologetically rush the court, perhaps a little more often than is entirely necessary, and scream in the disturbing ways that you are about to witness on this video. They also directly accost the cameras of people they don't even know:

Alright, well technically I know her; we did live together for like four years this one time. But I'm pretty sure she'd do that to anyone's camera given the chance!

Syracuse fans have had a rough few years of late. It's not easy to see your team go from National Champions in '03 to the infamous NCAA tournament snub of '07, so I am happy to see all the excitement that's been brought back to my school's community, and the Syracuse area in general, because the townies sure do love them some 'Cuse basketball too. Anytime Syracuse University isn't being a complete and utter embarrassment (AHEM, Nancy's Wall) and people have something to rally around and wear their orange with pride, I'm on board. And for the first time in a long time, we have something that actually validates all that cockiness.

Let's go orange. (Clap, clap, clap clap clap.)

She's A Lady (Whoa Whoa Whoa)

2009-03-02T15:16:00.014-05:00

My affinity for getting a little misty-eyed during SPCA donation campaign commercials notwithstanding, I am starting to realize I'm kind of a grinch about a lot of life's warmer and fuzzier joys. Either I am getting a lot less sentimental with age, or I am just more of a frosty soulless bitch than I ever gave myself credit for.

Other than the fact that I really enjoy dressing up in cute clothes and I have as deep and profound an appreciation for nail polish as most people do atmospheric oxygen, I'm just not a normal chick.

- I would choose drinking beer and yucking it up in a dive bar or someone's backyard over dressing up and having a romantic candle-lit dinner date, 100% of the time.

- Many a seasoned pottymouth has told me that I have the worst pottymouth they've ever heard. If I really am adopted, like my brother told me I was at the tender age of five, I bet my real parents were a trucker and a sailor.

- I have not named my future children. I have heard your names for your future children and laughed at them.

- When I played imaginary games as a kid, I usually played lawyer and forced my cousin to be my secretary. On the rare occasion that I did play house, I was a cigarette-smoking single mother whose husband was perpetually on business in Texas.

- Other than the fact that I know I don't want a large one, I have not planned my wedding. I am sort of hoping someone else will do it for me over the course of no more than 72 consecutive hours.

- At my dance recital after-parties, my friends were sneaking boxed wine out of the fridge. I was setting things on fire in the backyard.

- I do not longingly look at the babies of strangers and become wistful. But sometimes, if they have fat cheeks, I develop an insurmountable desire to squeeze them and then bolt.

- When I find out yet another person I went to high school with is pregnant or had a baby, my immediate inner reaction is: OH MY GOD, IS EVERYONE JUST BORED!?!?! I disguise this reaction poorly by just grimacing instead.

- I am generally grossed out by people posting pictures of their engagement, wedding, and children photos online. My nausea is usually alleviated by making scathing reviews of their color scheme choice or not-model-material child.

- I don't watch chick flicks. I don't partake in dramatic movies in general. However, if there is low-brow humor involved, I am probably game.

- I refuse to talk to babies in baby voice or dumb it down for children. I like pretending that they have intelligent adult-level inner monologues.

- I do not enjoy wine. I do not enjoy the sort of people who say things like "Oohhh I can't wait to get home and relax with a glass of wine". I guess that makes two of us that look forward to you leaving.

- I am often forced to suppress my desire to dry heave when groups of women get together and can only seem to bond by bitching about A) their men, or B) how fat they are. Realize that the two are related and get a damn divorce. Not having a pain in the ass husband frees up a lot of time to work out. Case in point: Jen Aniston. No husband, hot body. So cougar on, ladies. Cougar on, indeed.

- I thought I had a simmering dislike for girls who have made it their life purpose to be a Stepford Wife. Basically, if your home or garden looks like a page torn out of Martha Stewart Living, or you effortlessly cook Rachael Ray-esque meals, or you had a Style Network-worthy wedding, I hate you. But it's because I secretly love you.

It's not that I don't have the potential or creativity; I might. I just wouldn't know because I don't have the patience. Sloth is one of my bigger sins, and I am jealous of people who care enough to invent new recipes for homemade cupcakes rather than always reverting to the tried-and-true Funfetti/Rainbow Chip combo from Heaven. So when I discovered this new blog, I was like "YOU ANNOYING PERFECT JERK". And then I stole her Mexican food recipes.

Those types of blogs make me feel ashamed and inexplicably fascinate me. I live vicariously through them. I will secretly rejoice the day that I make Tostadas as glorious as hers.

And now for the part where I get all introspective: I guess all the girly things I supposedly hate really stem from the fact that I am just afraid. Maybe I won't be able to plan a beautiful wedding? What if men think I'm lame wife material because I can only make six foods? Perhaps I don't name my future children yet because I'm afraid my baby names will be as awful as yours?

Maybe it's not too late for me yet, and I'll be able to become a lady when I grow up. I think I'll learn to cook. I'll probably soften up about kids and weddings. One day I might even actually proudly display my friends' photo Christmas cards. The pottymouth, though - I'm afraid that's not going anywhere.

The Best Things In Life Are Free (On Craigslist)

2009-02-26T16:00:00.011-05:00

You can't buy class, but if you are a size L man interested in decorating yourself with an entire colony of slaughtered rabbits, you can buy this coat and look like a yetti with leprosy for just $300!

If that doesn't whet your appetite or fit into your budget, you can always get 52 yogurt cups for free.

52 Yogurt Cups (Spencerport)

Reply to: sale-1051385941@craigslist.org
Date: 2009-02-26, 11:20AM EST

Not sure why I have saved these but I have! If you want them, email me right away 'cause they are headed to the recycle bin.

[Cue "suspicious eyes" and crickets chirping]

Other things you can find for free (or a small nominal price):
Broken Floor Console TVs
Stalkers
Mother of the bride dresses from 1992
Never-worn (or sometimes worn) wedding gowns
Part time dead-end jobs (of which I've found 3 in my life, thankyouverymuch.)
"Beautiful" engagement rings - "Like New!"
"Platonic" friends (I'm sure)
Everything else you never wanted but might take just because it cost $1

Thus is the joy of Craigslist. If you don't know what Craigslist is, you need to get acquainted with it ASAP if for no other purpose than hours of entertainment at the expense of the crazy people that live in your neighborhood. Craigslist is basically online classified ads and forums for the socially inept. It was started by a guy named Craig (imagine!) in San Francisco and has since spread to every major and not-so-major metropolitan area in the fifty states and abroad.

Craigslist is probably best known for its Missed Connections section, in which people try to locate their proverbial "ones that got away" with romantic messages akin to this:

Couger in Walmart - m4w - 55 (Greece)

Reply to: pers-1050831973@craigslist.org

Date: 2009-02-25, 9:01PM EST

I saw you at the returns department at Walmart at night. We made numerous eye contact with each other. Would like to get in touch with you.

Now what woman/"Couger" in her right mind wouldn't be swept off their feet by such a cryptic message from a mysterious 55 year-old Walmart shopper in Greece, NY? To those of us not involved, it's funny, and Missed Connections are occasionally sort of sweet...almost. But to the recipients of such affection, it's not always so warm and fuzzy. I know someone who once got "missed connections"-ed and well, he was just sort of creeped out. He also pointed out that the irony in the fact that someone else thought there was a connection, while he has no recollection whatsoever of anyone else even being present at the time.

I might add that a lot of the missed connections are homosexual, as in some guy is posting who had "a moment" with another guy. My guess is that the guy on the receiving end had no idea that you're gay, and was probably just being polite when he asked if you wanted cheese while he was making your sandwich at Bruegger's last Tuesday. But guys in general, regardless of the team they're on, seem to have overly active senses of connection feeling. I might suggest we all start wearing nametags so as to clear up this sort of confusion and avoid all the future awkward postings and crushed hopes. That way we can all let the world know what our deal is. We could choose from the traditional ones like M4M, M4W, W4M, W4W, or the more avant-garde such as "Taken" or "Not Interested In Meeting You Just Because We Are Both Currently Shopping At The Same TJ Maxx" or "If You're Reading This, You've Already Spent Too Much Time Looking At Me. I'm Reaching For My Mace Now."

The moral of the story is that the majority of people on Craigslist, not all that unlike circus people, are delusional and not to be trusted, whether it be because they feel non-existent vibes or are trying to sell you something they likely found in their apartment building's trash room that they are convinced is "a steal", "worth well over" $6 dollars, but are going to cut you a deal and sell it for "$4 CASH ONLY NO ECCEPTIONS" (their exemplary spelling skills, not mine) and are willing to meet "IN A PUBLIC NEUTRAL LOCATION". The real missed connection here is the one that should be between the seller's brain and his typing hands which is regrettably absent.

Here's my question: why do these people think that all that time and effort is worth $2? Or more realistically, $0, because in reality, no one will want that stupid baby snowsuit your son outgrew five years ago. And who is going to go to the effort of tracking down a $107.99 gift card to Sears and then paying $100 cash for it? (An INCREDIBLE [almost] $8 savings.) The answer, of course, is only a crazy person such as yourself, which is why you thought it was a good idea to post that sort of thing on Craigslist in the first place.

People, this is why the Salvation Army was invented. So that you could take your useless/broken/out of style crap, chuck it in the collection dumpster behind the HSBC, and let their underpaid employees do the work of finding a suitable purchaser for said items, thereby freeing you of clutter and allowing you to walk away with a sense of self-satisfaction that the underprivileged in your community will eat 75 cents worth of food thanks to your incomplete candlestick set that Aunt Rita (may she rest in peace) gave you for your wedding shower in 1978. I'm willing to bet Aunt Rita would be much more proud of you donating her candlesticks to a good cause than trying to hawk them for an amount of money that won't even buy you your next pack of Newports or 24 oz plastic bottle of Pepsi.

There is something to be learned from the people who post their junk in the "free section", and that valuable lesson is: 'tis better to give than to swindle for the amount of money you probably have, in change, currently hiding under your couch cushions.

Sassybowl III

2009-02-01T15:22:00.007-05:00

By this point, we all know how I feel about football and the Superbowl. I won't bore you with that. But in case you forgot, I'll give you an idea of things I'd rather do than watch the Superbowl.

- Shave off my eyebrows.
- Watch paint dry.
- Eat a tomato the way a normal person would eat an apple.
- Sit in a locker room full of recently-used hockey pads, though I'd probably pass out from the smell after a few minutes.
- Be the elephant poop shoveler at the Circus.
- Run into a piece of plexiglass at Wegman's again.
- Ok, maybe not the plexiglass thing. I don't need any more facial scars.
- Watch Puppy Bowl V on Animal Planet.

In case you're not aware, the Puppy Bowl is footage of bunch of puppies playing with a football, a bunch of toys, and each other in a big pen that looks like a football stadium, complete with a lap dog-filled fan section, a referee ("Excessive Barking" will earn our young players a 5 yard penalty!), and real time color commentary (which I'm delighted to report includes a lot of the phrase "Hot Dog!"). It is the most entertaining television programming that's ever been imagined. It starts at 3pm EST and will run continuously until well after the Superbowl has once again disappointed us all.

I especially have to commend Animal Planet on choosing so many mutts to play this year after several years of pure-bred domination. The Puppy Bowl is also a big advertisement for animal adoption, and that means far more to me than the silly Budweiser and Doritos commercials on that OTHER bowl ever will. Cat lovers out there will appreciate the Kitty Halftime Show, presented by Bissell, featuring 20 minutes of kittens batting at toys on strings and romping around in those carpet-covered towers.

I'll be rooting for Eli, the Aussie Shepherd mix, whose resemblance to a fluffy little bear may have wholly won him my support. Make sure you also keep your eye out for 9 week-old Beagle, Matilda, whose spunk and tenacity will make her a shoe-in for the Puppy Bowl Hall of Fame.

Hope you all have a fantastic and delicious snack-filled Puppy Bowl Sunday!

The Candyman Took A Hint

2009-01-31T21:02:00.007-05:00

Breaking News!!!

I am overjoyed to exclusively report that those clowns over at Wonka/Nestle have once again changed the Runts flavors... AND THE PEASANTS REJOICE!!! You heard it here first, folks.

Those of you who have been following my blog for a while, or found it because you googled "runts fruit change", already know that the Runts Debacle of 2007 created quite the fury here at The Sass Factory. And I'd like to think that I had something to do with the fact that the Runts flavors have changed once again in just a smidge over a year since the we mourned the loss of Apple, Blueberry, and Watermelon (well not really as much on the Watermelon), and suffered through the addition of Mango and Pineapple. This is what Runts have looked like as of late:

Runts Class of '07. Barf.

Here is why I know this: Danny Wegman never fails to disappoint. During a trip to the happiest place on earth earlier this evening with my mother, I was standing on the back bottom ledge of the shopping cart, leaning over the hand rail as Mom was picking up some ground chuck. Just then, a fateful glance towards the bulk food section changed my life. My runts radar went into overdrive. Following a very quick double take, I zoomed in on the plastic bin housing what appeared to be my delightful little yellow 'nanas, surrounded by... purple? And GREEN?

My heart began to race and shortly thereafter, my tiny two-tiered shopping cart was barreling toward the promised land. They WERE Runts in there afterall.... bananas, oranges, RED strawberries? The shape of the former mango (and before that, watermelon) was PURPLE! And the former apple/cherry/whatever that red one was and blueberry was now GREEN! I quickly flipped open the plastic lid and threw a green one down the hatch. Apple! Sour Apple! I think. Either way, it wasn't mango or pineapple, and I loudly rejoiced to my mother that I'd be forced to shovel around those bastard flavors no more! I bought an entire third of a pound, which is the largest amount I've bought since the days of apple and blueberry yore. For the past year and change, I've been buying them in tiny amounts since I can only tolerate scooping around those asshole flavors for about 90 seconds.

I can't even find a picture or any mention of this great news online yet... even on the Wonka website itself! So I am spreading the word to all of you that it is once again safe to purchase Runts. Throw caution to the wind and dig right in, because you no longer have to fear the unfavorable wrath of mango and pineapple. The new flavors are by no means on par with cherry and blueberry, but sour apple and grape are quite welcome in both my heart and my mouth. I'm so happy, I'm not even going to nitpick and mention the fact that the "grapes" are rather disproportionate in size. Wait...whoops.

I can only imagine this had something to do with the fact that I implored all of my readers to lodge complaints with Wonka/Nestle. Or perhaps it was because people would have rather come down with dysentery than try to stomach those sorry excuses for Runts that Wonka was trying to force down our throats since 2007. I guess it was just a hard lesson learned for them that people don't actually enjoy candy that tastes like dumpsters full of rotten trash and dead prostitutes.

While it's not yet heaven on earth (or in my stomach), I must salute Wonka for its valiant efforts in clawing its way out of this tragedy and taking steps towards a more flavorful and colorful tomorrow. Willy realized the error of his ways, and remembering that he was in the business of people-pleasing, gave us a light at the end of the tunnel. I'm willing to bet that Charlie has cheered up. High five, Candyman. High five indeed.

True confession: I never actually wrote to Wonka, which just goes to show that if you whine about something long enough, you'll eventually get your way.

Hey Facebook, Put Your Tits Away

2009-01-10T15:31:00.007-05:00

Ahoy, boobs be ahead! I chose that picture because it's ambiguous. That could be an elbow in there for all I know. Also because it's mysterious, and boobs and mystery are great friends indeed.

In case you haven't been keeping up with important world issues such as social networking site petitions stating that breastfeeding isn't obscene, you should know that there is indeed an "official petition" essentially stating that breastfeeding is, well, not obscene.

A few weeks ago, some Canadian woman thought it appropriate to show her best side to the Facebook world by posting a picture of herself breastfeeding her little failure of birth control. Facebook removed the picture soon after on the grounds that it violated Facebook's rules about obscenity in pictures. This started an uproar, if you can call it that, in which all the underaged mothers (and overaged Facebook users) joined a Facebook group called:

"Hey, Facebook, breastfeeding is not obscene!(Official petition to Facebook)"
Nota bene: that's their crappy formatting, punctuation, and capitalization, not mine. Perhaps if said mothers spent less time with wee babes dangling from their bosoms, they'd have worked a little harder on a catchy group name or at least making it look a smidge more polished. Then again, what can we expect from women who are essentially auditioning for Post Partums Gone Wild via their Facebook page?

Call me a frost-covered bitch, but breastfeeding is gross. I have no problem telling you here or to your face that I'm not into lacto-porn. It's not about whether feeding a baby is "obscene" or not. It's more about the fact that no one wants to see your baby food factories. Not in person, and not online. Don't get me wrong, this girl was raised on boobs. My parents were even members of La Leche League and taught childbirth classes. Breastfeeding is great if that's your thing. I just don't understand the need to shove your personal choices and personal body parts in everyone's faces.

The pro-breastfeeders are really adament, too. There are over 500 groups on Facebook that have to do with breastfeeding, and I'm sorry to report that groups such as "If Breastfeeding In Public Is Ok, So Are Blow Jobs" are quite the minority. The boob-feeders are really into boob-feeding, and their supposed right to do so wherever they choose, and they have many an argument in support of their right to flash their mams all over creation. Luckily for the rest of us who are quite honestly kinda creeped out by all the boob-slingin', I have the answers!

Argument: "Breastfeeding is natural"
Response: "Natural" does not necessarily equate with pleasant, polite, or appropriate for public participation. You know what else is natural? Shitting. And yet we neither shit in public nor force others to witness our shitting without their consent.

Argument: "It is just feeding a child. Children need to be fed."
Response: Children also need to be born. Are you going to post pictures of a live coneheaded fetus riproaring down your gaping, torn, bleeding womanhood? I'm dry heaving just having typed that, so I think it stands to reason that good sense and Emily Post would say NAY.

Additionally, everyone needs to be fed, but there is a time and place. If your child desperately needs to be fed in public, find a semi-private area or excuse yourself to the restroom. I don't even dare touch a stick of gum and put it in my mouth on the subway, and you want your child to chow on boob in there? Yuck!

Tangentially, I'm also willing to bet that in five years, you will be the woman in the restaurant whose little rugrats are running amok while you're cooing things like "Bryce and Preston.... Prestonnn....Mommy needs you to sit down please. Thank you." whilst your offspring continue with their shenanigans, all but laughing in your face, and the rest of us wish that beating other people's children was still legal. That, friends, is where a lax "they're just being kids" attitude will get you!

Argument: "What about a baby breastfeeding is obscene? Especially in comparison to MANY other pictures posted all over Facebook that really are obscene."
Response: Again, this really is not about babies eating, and you know that. It's about boobs, and you can't put boobs on Facebook. Nor can you put any other goods, regardless of its high and mighty supposed purpose. If you don't like that, go start your own social networking site. I'm sure the URL name www.lactationbook.com isn't taken yet. Go post your creepy pictures there!

Argument: "In an effort to appease the closed-minded, [Facebook is] only serving to be detrimental to babies, women, and society."
Response: I'm not closed-minded. I just want you to keep your boobs to yourself. I'm not really shopping for boob pictures when I browse Facebook, and if I am, I'm certainly not looking for the deflated, chewed-up nipple variety that are smothering infants' faces.

Argument: "Breastfeeding is beautiful and tender, and creates a bond between mother and child."
Response: First and foremost, these children are going to be absolutely mortified to know that they made their internet debuts beneath facefuls of their mothers' racks. Not to mention what a disservice it is to onself to introduce exposed post-baby boobs, unwashed hair, and dumpy sweatpants to the world in your facebook coming-out photo! If it's so personal and wonderful, why is it something that you feel the need to share? At least do it in a safe space where you know other people want to hear about your, and I quote, "severely cracked nipples".

You breastfeeding mongers certainly aren't doing your cause any favors by further grossing out the general public with such talk. It's a hard enough pill to swallow for people to find out that boobs aren't expressly purposed for decoration and entertainment. I myself am still coming to grips with the fact that someday, someone is going to expect my boobs to do more than just sit there and look good. I'm more than a little apprehensive about the fact that they're going to turn into a 24-hour baby food sweatshop.

It is indeed a scary moment when you realize you're a 7-11 and you aren't serving slurpees, and I understand the breastfeeding mothers' need for support and a sense of community. But perhaps you might consider not doing it on a website designed for college kids to advertise their theme parties, drunken volleyball tournaments, and a capella concerts. Pro-Lactation activism isn't priority numero uno to them, so this is not an audience you're going to make tremendous grounds with or gain a great deal of sympathy from. Want proof? The group "Hey, Facebook, breastfeeding is not obscene" has 163,000 members, while "I Secretly Want To Punch Slow Walking People In The Back Of The Head" has nearly 1.2 million members.

If these women had joined facebook earlier, say before their uterus took up fetus manufacturing as a hobby or career, they might know that Facebook petitions do absolutely nothing, regardless of the number of supporters. Remember how many groups were formed in attempts to get rid of newsfeed, mini-feed, and the new formats (every time a new format came out)? Look how well that worked. The moral of the story is: Facebook does what it wants, and Facebook definitely does not want your boobs or your babies. Accept it, move on, and perhaps take the hint that boobs are best served lifted, separated, and covered. And preferably attached to Karolina Kurkova.

Ancient Pagan Sun Worship is the Reason for the Season

2008-12-24T16:17:00.004-05:00

I've just completed my sixth holiday season in retail. I can't say I'm overjoyed that I'm still peddling festive tsotchkes from Thanksgiving to Christmas, but let's be honest, I'm long on free time and short on cash, so it's a legitimate way to spend my Decembers.

I'm generally a pretty cheerful gal, even when I have a long line and my credit card machine is crashing, but I must say, I get a little annoyed from time to time with fussy shoppers, people stressed out from hustle bustle who decide to extend their delightful attitude in my direction, and my personal favorites: the people who insist on wishing me a Merry Christmas.

At the end of every transaction, I have always wished people a nice day, a safe drive, and a happy holiday. Sometimes I even get rowdy and tell people to take care. But even as a Christian and a person who generally enjoys Christmas, it bothers me when people answer my "Happy Holidays" with "Merry Christmas". I know that sounds kind of ungrateful, but
A) they don't know that I celebrate Christmas, because lots of people don't, and
B) I somewhat suspect they're those people going on and on about the "War on Christmas".

Here's my problem with the whole 'War on War On Christmas'.

1. I am so over the whole "Jesus is the Reason for the Season". Stop assaulting all of our eyes by posting a gigantic billboard telling me so in your G.D. front yard. I bet you Jesus hates those signs almost as much as he hates those tacky inflatable lawn decorations for lazy people. Besides, if you knew anything about Christianity, you'd know that prettymuch everyone agrees that Jesus was born nowhere near December. Most traditions related to Christmas (trees, mistletoe, feasts, gift-fiving, etc.) were passed down to us from the Pagans and Druids, in otherwords, polytheistic pre-Christians. Heck, they probably had orgies too.

2. There are lots of other holidays celebrated around this time of year: Hannukah, Solstice, Kwanzaa, the New Year, even Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, for chrissake (no pun intended!). Probably lots of other holidays I don't even know about, but the point is, your holiday isn't better or worse than anyone else's. Jesus doesn't own December. Get over it! Ask yourself what Jesus would do in this situation. I'll tell you what he'd do! He'd celebrate Hannukah because your boy is Jewish.

3. It'd be a pretty big coincidence if such big events in several religious traditions all happened within a few weeks of each other. December is no more religiously significant than that piece of toast featuring a Virgin Mary-shaped burn that got sold on Ebay a few years back. The religions all got together and decided our holidays would be slapped into the same month to create mass capitalism at the end of the calendar year for tax purposes, I'm sure.

4. I kind of wish there was more holiday cheer the rest of the year. You generally don't hear service industry people shouting all sorts of commands of enjoyment for other holidays. I don't go around congratulating Irish people that their Emerald Isle is free of snakes on March 17. I don't wish people a Happy Thanksgiving the entire month of November. But on second thought, I think I'm going to start finding every obscure holiday and acting on that.

"Thank you sir. Have a pleasant Colon Cancer awareness month!"
"Here's your receipt, m'am. Happy Betsy Ross Day!"
"$9.20 is your change, and have a great World AIDS Day. And don't get AIDS!"
"Come again, and maybe walk here next time considering it's Earth Day soon."

That would really shake things up and make the so-so days the rest of the year a little more spicy, I think. Maybe if we always had something to celebrate or be aware of, people wouldn't get in that post-holiday slump. And it'd be a lot more PC to just wish everyone a happy holiday for every holiday. It might be kind of funny to shout that kind of stuff at unsuspecting people. Even though I don't much care for sports, I know I'd definitely enjoy someone wishing me a fantastic Boxing Day. Because if there's one thing every American can appreciate, it's punching people in the face.

Happy Holidays to you all!

Bitches Outta Control!

2008-12-07T19:57:00.012-05:00

Here's a joke I just made up.

What's the difference between Purity Rings and the insertable contraceptive NuvaRing?
One sucks at preventing pregnancy and the other just causes blood clots.

That was lame, but it's true nonetheless. I don't know where this resurgence in popularity of pop star-inspired magic abstinence ring-wearing came from all of a sudden, but it's a bullshit tween trend sugarcoated in self-righteous Disney Channel wrapping paper, and it's beginning to annoy me.

Take for instance the 12 year-old British girl who was forced to take o ff h er p urity ring at school. Why? Because rings are against the school's dress code. The girl's got her panties in a bunch about how dress code exceptions were made for Islamic girls required by their religion to wear headscarves. Here's the problem. Christians aren't required to wear purity rings, and the girl didn't start wearing a ring because of her religion. Oh no. It was because, according to the girl, "I came across the whole purity ring thing after getting into the Jonas Brothers. I loved the music but then discovered what they stood for and it went from there." So you can't really say that the school is infringing on your right to religious expression, because THE JONAS BROTHERS AREN'T A RELIGION.

Our most recent crop of teenage pop stars who haven't yet succumb to their hormones includes
the Jonas Brothers, American Idol Jordin Sparks, Miley Cyrus, Taylor Swift, and Disney Princess in-the-making Selena Gomez. Good luck, kids. Just remember how well that worked out for Britney Spears and Jessica Simpson.

I didn't actually know until fairly recently that purity rings were back in style amongst the can't-vote-yet pop set. It was forced into the public eye during the MTV Movie Awards back in June when irreverent and hilarious host Russell Brand made a joke about the Jonas boys' rings. Jordin Sparks, a presenter obviously vying for the idiotic teenage comeback of the year award, later retorted: "Not everyone, guy or girl, wants to be a slut." Because any engagement in sexual activity makes you a slut. You really showed him, girlfriend.

Little Jordin's ill attempt at being sassy just confirmed what the rest of the world sort of already knew; these children have no understanding of what sexuality is or means. And in that sense, I'm sort of glad they aren't doing it, because at this point, the extent of their sexual knowledge is "sex = bad". I just find it unfortunate that young Miss Sparks associates participating in any sexual activity as "slutty", which makes me wonder... after a lifetime of having the idea forced down their throats that having sex means slut, dirty, bad, impure, babies, STDs, etc., how are these people suddenly supposed to see sex as a good thing on their wedding night? I can only imagine their early sex education is going to set them up to grapple with feelings of guilt, shame, fear, and discomfort for a long time.

Purity rings and saving oneself for marriage, as far as I can tell, are nothing more than the scary convergence of religious propaganda, capitalism, and thinly veiled attempts at keeping young women "under control". The best example of this is the newly popular "Purity Balls" or "Purity Weddings", in which girls as young as age 4 dress up and go to what essentially amounts to a prom with their father, wherein they sign a pledge and are given a ring by the father to wear on their wedding ring finger. They wear that ring until they are married, as it is a sign that their father will "protect" their purity until the day their husband takes over as "protector".

Problems with this:
1. Creepy.
2. 4 year-olds don't even know what sex is. Is it really ethical to have them sign a pledge they can't even read, much less intellectually or emotionally fathom, and then expect them to stick to it fifteen or twenty years later?
3. Why is it that a man, in some form or another, always has to "protect" and be in charge of the girl's sexuality?

One of my favorite religious "traditions", if you will, is how women who are more or less openly sexual are demonized (Mary Magdalene, anyone?), and women we are supposed to look up to are always as chaste as the day is long. Christianity always makes such a big deal over the fact that Mary was a virgin, as if her ever having had sex would make her any less special, what with being the mother of our savior and all. I guess that whole "mother of God" appeal would have been right down the shitter had she and Joseph ever gotten it on. The prophet Muhammad made his wives cover up so no other men could look at them, which is why Islamic women wear headscarves, and in more extreme cases, entire burkas. Emulating their greatest prophet's wives is how they show that they are respectable women. In some corners of the world, it is not only taboo for Islamic women to show their hair, it is illegal. Never mind the fact that there is little to no mention of men being sexual in any religious text, and when there is, there's certainly no passing judgment about it.

A post card sent into one of my favorite blogs, PostSecret, got me thinking...

1. "That girl has a nice butt, I wonder how I can get it."
2. I suspect this secret has more to do with body consciousness than it does women's lib.
3. She doesn't know what she'd choose, but the point is, she has a CHOICE.

That's what's great about our culture. In Iran, you are the girl on the right, and if you aren't... well, you're probably gonna get murdered for it, and by your own family, no less. Here, on the other hand, your body and your sexuality belong to one person: yourself. You can go Girls Gone Wild, or you can go Little House on the Prairie. The beauty is that it's up to you.

And that's the problem that I have with purity balls, purity rings, and the Jonas Brothers bombarding us with their pseudo-religious sexual sentiment. It removes personal choice and drowns us in saccharine commercialized morality. Why is it that we need snot-nosed teenage pop stars with terrible hair, overly involved Joe Simpson-esque fathers, religious jewelry, or society as a whole implying what we should or shouldn't be doing behind closed doors? And more importantly, since when is the slogan for peer pressure "Everybody's Not Doing It"?

Let us not forget that adolescents who subscribe to the whole "no sex til marriage" thing are usually extremely under-informed (and often misinformed. I once heard a guy on the Jesus Channel - EWTN Channel 44 in upstate NY - tell a crowd of teenagers that the rhythm method was 99% effective) about contraception and STD prevention. So when they have sex before they get married, which most of them ultimately do, they are more likely to face undesirable consequences from it a la Bristol Palin. These kids also tend to marry young... and we all know it's not because they so desperately want to get married. They just want to have sex that's presumably ok with God and their parents, never mind the fact that they have neither the maturity and life experience, nor the education to handle marriage and a sexual relationship all at once when they've just finished high school. Does it really make sense to keep kids from rushing into sex at all costs if it means they're rushing into marriage instead?

In teaching girls that saving themselves for their wedding night is the "greatest gift" they can give to their future husband, we are not only leaving them unprepared for what's ahead, but we are objectifying women and devaluing their entire being. Isn't a woman's love and commitment, not her body, really the greatest gift she can give her husband? And isn't being married too young, having unintended pregnancies, or contracting STDs worse than being educated and prepared should she enter a physical relationship before she wants to marry?

I understand that some girls are properly informed and decide to don the "true love waits" ring on their own accord, and not just because dad and their pastor strongly encouraged it, but I tend to think that's not usually the case. It's sad to me that we focus so much energy on trying to push this sort of agenda on children, and it's even more pathetic that the "purity" trend is being used to sell rings and records. It's strange that so many cultures and people are so scared of young women being in charge of themselves. But I think that really says something; people are afraid of liberated women and what they're capable of. It's just proof that women not doing what they're "supposed to" terrifies people, and for me, that's a very large silver lining.

The Douche Alert Has Been Raised to Orange

2008-11-09T15:43:00.009-05:00

I found this guy's blog a while ago. He's a twenty-something history teacher in my home area. Yes, a shaper of young minds. I have to commend him in that he set out to write a blog every single day for a year, and he has succeeded so far. The problem is, he writes things like this:

"Politics - Pick A Side

Any time people in this country question my ideals or values, I always tell them to look at the players on the two sides. Where do you fit in?

This is not even persuasive political bantering. This is a simple list of the folks on each side. So if you do not follow politics and were wondering where you fit in, pick your side:

The Pope, the soccer mom, the minister and his family, the farmer, the doctor, country musicians, the PGA Tour, grandma and her generation, and the small business owner are on one side of political debate.

The pedophiles, Al Qaeda, the rappers, the terrorists, death row inmates, Hugo Chavez, drug addicts, Alec Baldwin, the trial lawyers, the hippies and their generation, socialists, and Oprah are on the other side of the political debate.

Hmmmmm. Tough call who is correct, huh?"

- "Kufsy", April 21, 2008

HOW DOES ONE EVEN RESPOND TO THAT. I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. Now I say a lot of stupid things, but I say them with some sense of irony to point out how ridiculous some things are. This guy, on the other hand, is not only completely serious, he's also trying to be snide in order to make everyone that sees things a little differently feel stupid. It's one thing to be a complete ass, but it's quite another to be a complete ass that's convinced he's the new messiah of blogger pundits.

It's cute that he's trying to sway me to the chosen side over there with all the "desirables" (at least as he sees them). He's essentially telling me I'm incapable of coming up with my own political ideals, so I should pick a side based on who my "friends" are, and I'm not friends with pedophiles and terrorists am I?! Well, no, I'm not. But I ain't friends with no hate-spoutin' Toby Keith-type country musicians, either. Soccer moms - stay-at-home drivers of minivans who devote their lives to overdecorating their homes and falling all over their spoiled, bratty children - are everything I aspire not to be. The Pope doesn't support reproductive health care or equal rights for homosexuals. Small business owners tend to underpay and overwork their help. So no, they're not my friends, and I'm more than happy to stay out of their "category". I'm at a loss for how PGA golfers fit into this, but we'll move on.

My minister and his family don't fit in your traditional white-bread small town version of reality either. My minister recently gave a great sermon about how we shouldn't go judging homosexuality on the basis of it being something that the Bible speaks against. My minister pointed out that in several instances, the bible supports slavery and the subordination of women. He ended the sermon by suggesting that we think about such things the next time someone says to us "because the Bible says so". My church, in fact, broke off of its mother church because our former pastor prayed for the soul of John Brown after the Harper's Ferry incident in the 1860s. My church is still committed to our legacy of standing for peace, tolerance, and social justice.

Don't go talkin' bout my grandma like you know her, either. My grandmother was both a grandmother and a small business owner. She owned a beauty parlor and worked as a cosmetologist for nearly sixty years. My grandfather was a part of the Civilian Conservation Corps, a public work initiated by FDR and the democrats in the 1930s, when young men my grandfather's age had trouble finding work. Both she and my grandfather were very progressive people who consistently leaned left and even had a portrait of JFK hanging in their living room. I come from a long line of spicy, progressive, honest, hardworking, good people. We just happen to believe in social justice, equal opportunity, and making sure that people who are disadvantaged in some way don't slip between the cracks. That hardly makes us terrorists, murderers, drug users, or rappers.

What's wrong with Oprah, Alec Baldwin, and rappers, anyway? Some rappers are a bit misguided, but most of them (ever heard of Tupac Shakur? Kanye West?) have learned from their upbringings, risen above it, and inspired others, which is clearly more than you've accomplished. Hiding behind your computer, your narrowmindedness, and your angry, defensive uberconservative rhetoric has done nothing but make people such as myself realize that, despite electing a progressive black president, our country has a long, long way to go.

He's just shown me that he, like many conservatives, has no understanding of what it is to be a democrat or a liberal. He's also shown me he has a limited understanding of what it is to be a conservative. It seems that many people are becoming conservatives now because "they're not liberal". They've chosen this because "liberal" has become a dirty word and an insult because of people like him - people who are too simple to realize that being a liberal is not being Alec Baldwin or a hippie or a socialist. Most people don't even know what socialism and communism are, let alone that they're not interchangeable terms (I expected more from a history teacher). Fox News, Elisabeth Hasselbeck, and this guy have done a great job of scaring people into conservatism by doing just what he did in that blog entry - associating liberalism with terrorists, murderers, drug addicts, and socialists (and let's not forget abortion lovers!), and conservatism with "regular people". They know that fear-mongering and propaganda are the only way to get people to subscribe to their crazy-assed beliefs. The Republican brand is hurting. They know this, and they're employing whatever desperate pathetic tactics they can to build up their team. Unfortunately for you, people are not as stupid as you hope they are and they're not buying it. You are not that smart. Bullshit is bullshit, no matter how nicely you try to wrap it. Life is not high school, and people can't be bullied into thinking like you do.

These are just the typical narrow-minded bitter rantings of someone born into small-town white male privilege who thinks that he's "normal" and his ideals are "right" just because they're what work for him. Your ideals are just fine for you, but consider that not everyone in our country or world is you, thank goodness, and they probably don't subscribe to the lifestyle or beliefs that your Cayuga County existence has shaped for you. Additionally, I find it deplorable that someone who is a TEACHER is constantly referring to President-Elect Obama as "King Barack Hussein I", obviously emphasizing the Hussein to remind us all that he's an "Arab" and a "terrorist". You, sir, should be ashamed and embarrassed. I am truly afraid for your present and future students and desperately hope that you don't conduct yourself this way in your classroom.

The best part of all of this is that this pilar of morality is dating his former student.

Case. Closed.

Election Shmelection

2008-11-04T15:56:00.006-05:00

Happy Election Day! I hope you are all out voting! Actually, I don't really care. More on that later.

First and foremost, I want to give a shoutout to Barack Obama's grammy, Madelyn Dunham, because she passed away yesterday. She essentially raised him and was a great inspiration to him, and I'm sort of sad she didn't get to see his entire election run, but I'm sure she's watching down on her grandson and cheering him on from that great poll booth in the sky.

To be all fair and balanced, I also want to give a shoutout to John McCain because he was on Saturday Night Live this past weekend and wasn't completely lame. I have a newfound respect for him. He had no problems making fun of himself and I consider that a sign of a highly intelligent person. He also almost got me with his "Sad Grandpa" campaign strategy. Check it out:

http://www.nbc.com/Saturday_Night_Live/video/clips/update-sen-mccain/805401/

So anyway, everyone's got up on their away messages and facebook statuses that we should all go out and vote! That's very cute that you use what otherwise houses emo song lyrics to get all patriotic today, but I find this a little silly and counterproductive.

1. Namely, if you haven't decided who you're voting for yet, and you can be swayed into voting for a particular candidate (or voting at all) by someone's facebook status, you aren't the type of person I want being held responsible for making political decisions.

2. If you don't care, you shouldn't vote just to vote. That's like voting on what restaurant your group of friends is going to when you aren't planning on eating. Today, I voted only for president and my congressman and left a whole mess of columns unchecked. Why? Well for one, they're all from Central New York, so they're republicans even if they're democrats. Two, I had never heard of any of the clowns running for my local supreme court or state assembly because I still vote for in the district of my permanent address of Weedsport, New York. The problem is that I've been watching Rochester TV for the past two months at school and can recite word for word all the low budget smear campaign commercials of local political hopefuls there.

I know all about Alice Kryzan and Chris Lee and how Alice accuses Chris of sending jobs to China and only caring about his small business making money, and Chris likes to constantly remind everyone how Alice is a "liberal trial lawyer". Truth be told, I side with Alice because at least she's acquainted with the law. Chris owns some electrician business or something equally unrelated to politics and is probably just trying to get in office so he can vote against Joe the Plumber taxes and maybe lower minimum wage. If I voted in Rochester, I'd probably vote for a third party guy simply because he didn't subject me to ominously voiced-over shitty commercials for two months, and leaving me the hell alone during It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia is what I truly value in a candidate.

3. Voting is a right, not a requirement. If you don't want to vote, you shouldn't have to. That's what makes America so great - we are a country of "whatever, I do what I want" and I think that's awesome (especially when someone says it on Maury Povich). Just because you have the right to do something doesn't mean you should do it. Technically, I have the right to own a gun. But I'm not going to, because I have, on more than one occasion, injured myself on a cardboard box. Is it really a good idea for me to own and operate lethal weapons? Probably not.

So if you're all disenfranchised by politics and think anyone who runs for office must be a real douche, or you truly don't care, or you're protesting that we only get two choices and a vote for a third party is essentially a vote for the stronger candidate... I fully support you in your choice! Why? Well for one, I'm a proponent of choice, whether it has to do with unborn babies or exercising your rights or just exercising your body. You do what works for you. I would just say don't choose to do anything illegal if you plan on spending your life somewhere other than in a prison. And secondly, I know what it's like to not care about something that everyone else cares about. I hate the Superbowl. Yes, even the commercials. I get a lot of shit about that, but I just don't care and I shouldn't have to. So I dig where you're coming from if you're a non-voter.

Election Day isn't about everyone voting. It's about celebrating your American-ness as you see fit, and loving America in your own special way, whether that means lining up at the polls or staying home because you'd rather watch Maury Povich.

Lauren Solves All The Campaign Issues!

2008-10-22T19:13:00.017-04:00

As the presidential race is coming to a close, I'm sure we've all been noticing in the past few weeks that at least one of the campaigns is feeling its momentum slipping and is whipping out the claws in a few final pathetic stunts to win back some votes, to little avail. It actually seems to be having quite the opposite effect. Because my aim here at The Sass Factory is to always to provide the most fair, balanced, unbiased political coverage (just like Fox News does - ZING!), I won't say which campaign is currently sporting the rather smelly Eau de Desperation.

I've taken a few minutes to compile some recent rumors, new stories, and slips of the tongue for your enjoyment, and I've solved all of them in fewer than three sentences. Well actually, more than three sentences because as usual, I got carried away, which you should expect by now considering that's prettymuch my M.O.

Rumor: Barack Obama wasn't born in Hawaii as he claimed, and therefore he's not a natural citizen and can't be president.
1. Wow. Don't you think that if Obama wasn't a citizen that someone would have figured that out and said something a little sooner than 13 days before the election?
2. It is unbelievable how many otherwise educated people have no clue how citizenship works. John McCain was born in Panama during the US occupation of the Panama Canal (and no, it wasn't a base or an embassy), but no one's getting their panties in a bunch about that. But why should they? You are a natural born citizen if you are born to at least one parent who is an American citizen. Regardless of where Barack Obama was born, he is a natural born American citizen because he camped out in an American uterus for nine months beforehand. Both John McCain and Barack Obama have parents who are American citizens, so they could have been born in the part of Russia visible from the Palin residence, and they'd still be A-okay to run for prez.

Breaking News Story (Except on Fox): The GOP used $150,000 to spiff up the Palins since Caribou Barbie was named Veep nominee back in August.
That one is actually true. The former Miss Wasilla 1984 and clan rang up a tab of 75 grand at Neiman Marcus alone in a single day. In a way, I see no problem with this.

1. She has to be able to stand next to potential First Trophy Wife Cindy McCain and look good. In fact, the Republicans better lay down a few more G's so Sarah can get Cindy's plastic-y glazed-over Botox look too.
2. You can't have ultimate beta male Todd Palin running around campaining for the lipsticked pit bull in a Polaris snowmobiling suit, because he probably would if you let him.
3. Little Trig needs a cute baby sweater vest collection.
4. Bristol Palin (soon to be) Johnston needs stylish maternity clothes befitting a blushing young lady of 17. No mumus or sweatpants for this girl.
5. 7 year-old Piper absolutely needs that $750 Louis Vuitton bag. It's going to be her only souvenir of that time her silly mother thought she could be the vice president.

However, they probably could have dressed the Palins just as nicely with a wardrobe that didn't cost what a handful of average American families collectively make in a year. Harping on how "normal" you are and then spending that kind of money on clothing, no matter what you're supposedly doing with it after, is just plain tacky. I also can't imagine that the people who donated to the Republican campaign quite envisioned their hard-earned money going towards MAC lip gloss.

I'm thinking a better way to go with that money would have been say, advertising with the ferocity that the dems have? Maybe paying Alaskan taxpayers back for that time S.P. spent $21,000 so her daughters could do "official" state business like going to snowmobiling races and shopping in New York for 5 days? Maybe sending Sarah back to college so our potential Vice President could have more than a BA in "Communications slash Journalism" from the University of Idaho? Just throwin' out ideas here.

Slip of the Tongue (Perhaps Slip of the Brain): Michele Bachmann, Republican congresswoman from Minnesota and idiot extraordinaire, called Barack Obama "anti-American" on Hardball with Chris Matthews.
Representative Bachmann not only suggested that to be liberal is to be anti-American and that some current college professors "hate America", but flat out said "Absolutely. I am very concerned that he might have anti-American views". Chris Matthews also asked her if she thought her fellow congresspeople who are democrats and the 30% or so of Americans who describe themselves as liberal were anti-American, and she avoided the questions several times.

Check it out:
http://news.aol.com/elections/article/politicians-play-a-patriotic-blame-game/221695?icid=100214839x1211561253x1200744336

She was also stupid enough to later deny saying it all, seemingly forgetting the technological day and age in which we live. After she realized how terrible she looked, she said that she had never watched Hardball and should have before she appeared on the show, and that she regretted her statements. I'm sure her regret has nothing to do with the fact that she is up for re-election and since her appearance on Hardball, more than $800,000, some of which came from people in other states, has been donated to the campaign of the Democrat running against her for her seat in Congress. Whoops.

In their most pathetic attempt at scraping up a few votes yet, Republicans have now sunk to employing the old "so-and-so hates America" tactic, which might not be a bad idea considering that it kind of works on the large faction of Americans whose heads currently reside in their own rectums. An AOL.com poll of nearly 124,000 showed that 38% of voters consider liberals to be anti-American, and 46% of over 109,000 voters polled thought that supporters of Barack Obama are "socialists".

Not that I need to explain myself to my more-intelligent-than-average audience, but I would just like to formally state that liberal as I am, I do not hate America. In fact, I really love America, which is why I have such high standards as to what grade of moron I'll accept in high ranking public offices. Liberals love America, they just love different things about America than conservatives do. You guys love wearing flag pins, we love polar bears. You guys love the second amendment, we love Roe v. Wade. You guys love tax cuts for people that have so much money they go on five figure shopping sprees, we love increasing public education funding. So what? It really all comes down to love. Like how much I'm going to love it when a fellow SU alum is V.P. and you guys have to accept that your president is a liberal brown person.

P.S. Did you notice the current color scheme? Yay America!

This Would Never Happen Under Thatcher

2008-10-20T21:22:00.008-04:00

I'm beginning to think that with the way the presidential campaigns are playing out, I'm going to have to reformat and simply post things that are offensive slash funny. Except some of them are beginning to be not that funny. Here are a few examples. Behold:

Funny.... (remember, I never edit these!)
Codfather4u 09:18 PM Oct 21 2008

IF HUSEIN OBAMA GETS IN WE WILL ALL BEING WEARING TOWELS ON OUR HEADS AND EATING TAINTED MMEAT IN THE STREETS WITH FLIES ON IT AND LIVING IN MUD HUTS WORSHIPING SOME ROCK

I already wear a towel on my head after the shower and have come down with some unfortunate though not life-altering cases of food poisoning no thanks to tainted meat. People worship (stone) statues all the time. Mud huts are economical, renewable, and minimalist. I have no problem with any of this. NEXT.

Not Very Funny.... (so I tried to make it funny with my own commentary which you'll find in parentheses and italics!)

There is a bulletin (an email you send to all of your cyber "friends") going around on MySpace. I suppose that given its source, I should take it with a grain of salt the size of a dwarf planet (Pluto, we still have nothin' but love for you out here!), but I felt I should share with all of you. Ironically enough, it's being sent out with headings like "This Is Scary!". Have a gander if you will:

"This will make you re-think: A Trivia question in Sunday School:
How long is the beast allowed to have authority in Revelations?
(What does authority in revelations mean? How does one have authority in a book chapter? I don't get it. And WHAT beast! I never got asked any questions about cheap bear in Sunday School. Lies already.)

Revelations Chapter 13 tells us it is 42 months, and you know what that is.
(Mmmm, not following you here. Also not trusting that citation. Probably found on Wikipedia. So you're telling me the anti-Christ is going to hang around then just LEAVE? I thought it would be the "end of the world"! Isn't that going to last longer than 42 months? And did they even have the concept of months back then? I mean, Abraham and Sarah lived to be like sea tortoise age so I'm pretty sure they had some sort of different system going on then. Siiigh, continue if you must.)

Almost a four-year term of a Presidency.
(My dad says almost only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades. And I'm pretty sure it's 3 1/2 years. Which is almost exactly the length of time someone is pregnant with 5 consecutive 8.4 month pregnancies. Oh my gosh, the anti-Christ will be a premie!?)

All I can say is 'Lord, Have mercy on us!'
(Lord thinks your interpretive and critical thinking skills could use some polishing.)

According to The Book of Revelations the anti-Christ is: The anti-Christ will be a man, in his 40's, of MUSLIM descent, who will deceive the nations with persuasive language, and have a MASSIVE Christ-like appeal.... the prophecy says that people will flock to him and he will promise false hope and world peace, and when he is in power, will destroy everything...
(Pfff, that sounds made up. I'm sure Mr. Frank Revelations or whoever wrote that book did not say things like "persuasive language" or type-shout the words massive and Muslim. The Bible was completed in the first few centuries A.D., the first copies known to be in print around 331 A.D. At least 300 years before Islam was invented in the 7th century. So how would the Bible know about Muslims? DENIED.)

Do we recognize this description??
(You're trying to get me to but I refuse to participate.)

I STRONGLY URGE each one of you to post this as many times as you can! Each opportunity that you have to send it to a friend or media outlet..do it! I refuse to take a chance on this unknown candidate who came out of nowhere."
(Who actually forwards MySpace bulletins to "media outlets"? I bet Fox News would run it though. They're scraping the bottom of the barrel at this point. And came out of "nowhere"? Where do you think the Polar Bear Princess up there came from?)

That was a lot less "scary" with my responses, don't you think? Also, if I keep using more quotation marks, will this all become slightly less threatening? In all seriousness, what's truly scary is that small-minded people have no problem with using some obscure (and possibly made up) Bible verse as a scare tactic to sway people's political opinions. What's scary is that people have no problem spreading complete lies. What's scary is that there are so many people in this country who still not only embrace racism and ethnocentrism, but flaunt it.

This is like the time Nostradamus "predicted" 9/11. Lame. You could probably make Nostradamus' writings coincide with episodes of The Hills if you gave it a few minutes.

Additionally, religious heritage is passed through the mother in almost all religions. I certainly don't go around talking about my "Catholic descent" from my father's side. I don't have inner holy wars between my Protestant and Catholic parts. There are no Irish car bombs going off inside me. So I don't find it entirely accurate to say that he is of "Muslim descent" at all, because his mom is a white Christian. That should make all you bigots happy for the time being.

I also try not to take anything too seriously that in several instances informs me that I am to be considered property and have no rights because of my matching X chromosomes. How bout that part about how it's your duty to smite your neighbor if he steals your donkey or your lady? Or that section on how I'm not supposed to cook for my family when I'm menstruating (I actually might be okay with that part). There's a lot of silliness in the bible. I'm a deeply spiritual person, but even I have enough sense to know that we shouldn't go making laws, starting wars, or spreading rumors or hate against anyone over some book that was written 2000+ years ago by people. People like you and me, who as we can see from this bulletin, can harbor rather ridiculous and frightening views on things.

No matter what way you try to cut it, spouting hate and spreading lies is wrong and not Christian at all. It also completely grosses me out that people are using a "sacred text" as political propaganda. You are the same people who get all hyper about Christmas being too commercial and not about Jesus anymore. You can't cherry-pick what you're going to sell out on. BARF.

If you're supporting a candidate or have a problem with another candidate, do the right and intelligent thing and disagree with their actions, rather than trying to justify your support for the other candidate with the fact that this one happens to be a (gasp!) brown person. Some people really like John McCain, I'm sure. I just hope it's not because his skin happens to be the exact shade of mayonnaise (how does one even accomplish that in Arizona!?). Most pathetic of all, you're openly admitting that you make important decisions based on color. You'd probably fare better with the highly scientific "Eenie Meenie" method of elimination. Perhaps you should consider relinqueshing your voting rights until your decision-making skills have surpassed those of a guinea pig.

I can't just leave this entry hanging with something so "not funny if it weren't for my commentary" offensive, so to leave things on a lighter note, here's an actual question, written by a man with a PhD, from the college-level anthropology test I took this evening:

Women have more power and influence than men:
(A) in matrilineal societies.
(B) in patrilineal societies.
(C) in England under Thatcher.
(D) in myth but never in reality.

...do I really need to say anything more about that?

Don't Question My Hygiene

2008-10-07T00:54:00.005-04:00

More of America's finest political commentary, courtesy of AOL.com. And no, I haven't changed any spelling or grammar for coherence. That would take away all the comedic value.

We have the token Racist Caps-Monger...

PAULLEONE 12:48 AMOct 07 2008

WHERE ARE ALL THE LIBERAL EQUALITY BITCHES WHO WANT A FEMALE AT THE TOP OF THE TICKET??? Palin?? OH, I SEE, THEY WANT A liberal DUMOCRAP BITCH ON TOP!!! GUESS ITS THE SAME AS -GGERS WHO WANT A -GGER (ASBOMAS) AT THE TOP OF THE TICKET, BUT NO BLACK, E.G. CONDI RICE TYPE, BECAUSE SHE ACTUALLY CAN THINK AND HAS an IQ ABOVE the NATIONAL DEMONCRAP's 60 IQ STANDARD REQUIREMENT that any and all present democrap D.C.female POLITICO office holders have!!!

...the token Idiot "Feminist"...

Fastcat121 12:48 AM Oct 07 2008

I am a woman and I don't understand the betrayal by my sisterhood. We must stand together and Vote for John McCain and not for Obama the person that lied to get the nomination and demonstrated such disrespect for Hillary Clinton, a reflection on all woman. I am Shocked by the negligence of the Demarcates, and the Woman of American. So what do they do, they nominate Barrack Hussain Obama over Hillary Clinton, a Woman that is known to them, that has a record of voting on issues, and last but not least, a woman that can help the woman of America. The Women have been complaining about having equality. So what do they do, they nominate a Man, a black Man with no background whatsoever, no voting record and has allied him self with Rev. Wright who called America the United States of the KKK, who said that the Government/Whites gave the Black People AIDS to exterminate them, and Obama belong to this Church for 20 years though claims he never heard any such remarks. JOHN MCCAIN our next Pr...

and the token "This Guy HAS To Be Drunk"...

MIKEY C COLEMAN 12:28 AM Oct 07 2008

MC CAIN PALIN ARE DRAWING CROWDS TWICE AS LARGE AS OBAMA'S AND JUST LOOK AT THE CLASS OF PEOPLE. ALL WELL EDUCATED AND WORKING. PEOPLE WHO HAVE PRIDE IN THEMSELVES AND AMERICA. PEOPLE WHO EARNED WHAT THEY HAVE AND DIDN'T DEAL DRUGS OR STEAL IT. PEOPLE WHO GO TO CHURCH AND RAISE LAW ABIDING WELL BEHAVED CHILDREN. THEN LOOK AT OBAMA'S FOLLOWING. PEOPLE WHO REFUSE TO TAKE A BATH OR USE DEODERANT. NOT BECAUSE THEY CAN'T AFFORD TO, BUT BECAUSE DIRT IS GOOD AND CLEAN IS BAD IN THEIR SCREWED UP LOGIC. THEY MAKE THEIR LIVING SELLING DRUGS AND GOING TO FESTIVALS. THEN THEIR IS THE DRUG DEALERS WHO ALL BACK OBAMA AND THE CRIMINAL ILLEGALS. THE DEGENERATES WHO ARE TO LAZY TO FINISH HIGH SCHOOL BUT WANT EVERYONE ELSE TO FEEL SORRY FOR THEM....

Your grasp of written English is pestilent to say the least. And by the way, I bathe.

Lauren: 2, Mikey Coleman: 0

Holiday Cheer

2008-09-30T14:36:00.004-04:00

Given my enthusiasm for all things Christmas, I've been known to start getting in the spirit early... usually say, Columbus Day weekend. This year, however, things got really out of control, and by September 23rd, I had:

- listened to my entire iTunes holiday playlist more than once
- watched Dr. Seuss' "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" (the original animated 1957 television special) and "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" (the claymation 1964 television special)
- fashioned my dwelling with Christmas decorations
- made a gingerbread mansion

None of this is particularly out of the ordinary in and of itself, but I caught quite the surprise when I wanted to look up "Rudolph" on the Internet Movie Database. I always love reading the trivia and of course, the discussion boards. And this, friends, is the discussion that sparked the creation of an entire blog entry:

by toplaycool (Sat Aug 23 2008 14:39:47)

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UPDATED Sat Aug 23 2008 14:40:49

The reason is because this year could be our last year of celebrating Christmas. That is if Barack Obama wins. Listen, Christmas and Liberal Democrats don't go well together. They already want to get rid of Christmas, and you know whats stupid, they are celebrating it and we can't! Although with Barack Obama, he is more of a Ramadan fan. Anyway, Im scared of Christmas going away. This is my favorite time of the year, and I hope it doesn't get taken away. PLEASE vote for John McCain, if you want Christmas to stay.

by MrMackeyMmmkay (Sun Aug 31 2008 16:13:09)

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That's a dumb thing to say. Just a really, really dumb thing to say. You can't just make Christmas go away magically and no one has enough power to make it go away. The chaos that would be started because of Christmas being abolished would be catastrophic. Christmas will never go away.

by nestordonkey (Wed Sep 3 2008 13:52:15)

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I fear Obama too. He's also a Muslim in which the chinese are. The chinese are just waiting for us to outlaw guns so they can attack us when we're most defencless.

I'm a CHRISTIAN, and PROUD OF IT!

.......Chinese Muslims. Outlawed guns. "Defencless"ness. Proud Christians. Legislation banning Christmas. This. Is. HILARIOUS. But clearly we know this crackpot is way off his rocker because according to him, "Christmas and Liberal Democrats [with a capital L. D.] don't go well together", and HELLO, the author of this blog is both a liberal democrat and a fervent supporter of all things Christmas. Contributor Number 2 was almost the voice of reason until he decided the stupid thing the original poster said was that Christmas was going to get taken away. Nevermind the blatant unabashed racist and inaccurate remarks. But it was the caboose of this discussion who really blasted it out of the park. I would be offended by this whole exchange, but I can't take slurs seriously from people who haven't yet learned to spell and can't properly identify the situations in which we use "in which".

Really, I must thank this man because he captured the essence of everything wrong with America in fewer words than I ever could have. Indeed, we may have to nix the whole "land of the free" slogan and replace it with "America: Racism. Guns. Illiterates."

I'm not a fan of his bursting everyone's holiday bubble, however. Or at least mine, because normal people won't be thinking about Christmas for another 2 months. Isn't a big part of Christmas like, perpetuating good feelings and "God bless us everyone" and "On earth, peace, good will toward men" (Some people say "all", but I don't get on the Gospel's case for being written in the golden age of sexism). Maybe this guy shouldn't be so worried about being invaded by a gaggle of Chinese Muslims and spend a little more time watching "Home Alone" and drinking hot chocolate and listening to Nat King Cole. And if he starts in September, he'll be in the Christmas spirit in no time.

Pieces of Me*

2008-07-24T17:29:00.003-04:00

*Not the Ashlee Simpson kind.

In other words, things you never, ever cared to know about me, but will in about 90 seconds.

What is the single largest item in your house?
Ummm my attitude? Haha I don't know.

Do you like to color inside the lines?
Literally, yes. Figuratively, no.

Where would you hate to have to work?
In a cubicle. Or any office for that matter. BARF.

Do you prefer lightbulbs or candles?
Neither. Natural sunlight is best.

Do you look at yourself when you pass by reflective surfaces?
Hahaha! I am somewhat ashamed to say that I absolutely do. But I try to be discreet about it.

Would you ever get plastic surgery?
If I was unhappy with something. Like if I breast fed four kids and my boobs were deflated, hell yes I'd get fake ones.

Do you like the smell of axe?
No. I'm really picky about smells. especially cheap ones. There are only two smells that I consistently enjoy: fabric softener and sunscreen.

What is the best halloween costume you have ever worn?
I am a big fan of when I dressed up as Wilma and Laura was Betty in 2004. We made our costumes ourselves and we sort of look like them in real life. I freaking love Halloween.

Do you understand how telephones work?
Haha, no and I think about stuff like that all the time and am amazed. People take that kind of ingenuity for granted. Thank God there are a lot of people far smarter than I in charge of that sort of thing.

What is the prominent color in your closet?
There isn't one. I love bright things and I wear just about every color under the sun, with the exception of red and black (it's technically not a color blah blah WHATEVER). I very rarely wear either. Black seems dark and boring and red strikes me as a sort of angry, aggressive color. Black and red neither reflect my aura nor flatter my coloring.

Do you believe in lots of conspiracies?
Haha not really. There's a name for that sort of condition.

Do you own any really old video game systems?
I love Super Nintendo. Ya know, like the second one circa 1990

Are you good at baking?
Yes, but I generally bake things that come in some sort of buyable mix, haha.

Have you ever made your own clothing?
Yes. Sometimes you just can't find what you want in the store. I also enjoy taking liberties like cutting things up and reattaching them the way you want 'em.

Do you prefer crushed ice or cubed?
I don't generally care for ice cubes, they make me annoyed. However, I like the little donut shaped ones some restaurants have... the round ones with the hole in the middle!

What word/phrase do you find really annoying?
The massive overuse and incorrect use of the adjective "RANDOM". What you're really saying when you label everything as "random" is that you've never heard of words such as arbitrary, inconsequential, innocuous, stranger, spontaneous, sporadic, or other such "big" words. I judge people who constantly use "random" as an adjective crutch.

Are you afraid of bright colors?
Only when they're airbrushed onto someone's tacky-ass acrylic nails.

Can you tell people honest things to their face?
I'm honest, but I'm not harsh or rude. Some people don't know the difference.

Do you tend to want things you cannot have?
Not really. I'm a simple pleasures person.

Is it true that you can be anything you want to be?
No. There are always limitations. Like if you want to be an astronaut and you're 6'2", well tough shit for you because you can't be an astronaut unless you're under 6'. Little known fact. And lots of people want to be famous actors or singers or something but just wanting it isn't enough. Like everything else in life, your dreams rely on a combination of hard word, luck, and connections.

Were your parents honest with you about serious things when you were little?
Yeah. Here was my sex talk....
8 Year Old Me: "Mom, how can ***** be pregnant? She's not married."
Mom: "She had sex, and she got pregnant."

Which power ranger was your favorite?
The one that yelled "Sabertooth Tiger!" because it's a funny thing to yell. Was that the asian girl?

What do you think of feminists?
I am one, and you can't have one opinion about them because they're from all walks of life. You judgey cow. Besides, I'm not one for sweeping generalizations unless they're funny.

Are you afraid of snakes?
I hate animals that don't have legs (or fins). Snakes, eels, worms. BARF. Grow some legs why don't you, you slithery jerk! I guess I'm not afraid so much as creeped out.

How hot do you like the water in your shower?
Not very. I shower in lukewarm water, if even that.

Is energy wasted on little kids?
I "waste" my energy on teenagers every day and I absolutely love it!

Do you like to wear socks?
I hate socks. In every season.

Which is better, thick crust or thin?
I'm not a big pizza fan. Or crust of anything fan. I don't even like the word "crust". Eww.

Overheard In My Life

2008-06-30T19:44:00.013-04:00

Have you ever been to that website Overheard In New York? It's basically a blog where people submit crazy things they've overheard while in New York, hence the clever name. There's a lot of good stuff on there, as should be expected from a city full of people with little personal space and emotional imbalance to spare, but from time to time, I feel like I could have my own version with all the quips that people seem to sling in my general direction. Some recent favorites of mine:

Me: "Would you make a good parent?"
Friend: "Not right now. I say 'fuck' too much."

Text message to me: "PS I don't really think you're racist."

Instant message to me: "I can give the state of the union address in one word. Fucked."

A 12 year-old to me: "My dad was golfing and was doing really well but then he tripped over a sprinkler and hurt his ankle and it swelled to the size of a golf ball. Ironic."

Not exactly heard, but something I read on a bumper sticker: "Impeach Bush & Cheney"... and then some website for progressive democrats. Under normal circumstances, it's not that surprising that people want to impeach them or are "progressive democrats", save for the fact that this bumper sticker was proudly decorating the rear end of a gigantic American-made pickup truck operated by a young white man in Cayuga County, New York, turning into Wal-Mart. I can't remember for sure, but I'm gonna go out on a limb and say that there's a good chance there was a gun rack on it, too. Surely you jest, I thought, given the circumstances, and inched closer, looking for some snarky remark in the smaller font below. Much to my surprise, there wasn't one, at which point I became rather perturbed, because everyone knows that you can't be a democrat AND drive a pick-up truck for chrissake! Just whose team are you on here, buddy!? Pick a side.

I wish I'd been a better eavesdropper on my recent inaugural trip to the (non-touristy) South. I know I heard some fantastic things there - that is, when I understood them. I've never actually taken a trip to the Bible Belt before (this should come as no surprise, given my distaste for landlocked red states and places where I expect words like "colored" and "homo" are considered politically correct, at least relative to the common vernacular), that is with the exception of traipsing around Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, but that's not "Southern" so much as it is, say... "tacky commercial death trap" for people without enough sense or good taste to take vacations to anywhere desirable. I don't think a culture consisting entirely of endless discount beachwear stores, dilapidated oceanfront motels that smell like cheap beer, and extravagant minigolf courses was quite what Jefferson Davis had in mind back when he tried to break off and create a land of peace and prosperity (with a sprinkling of slave labor).

I never really thought of myself as a foreigner in my own land, but there were times down there when I found it alarmingly difficult to discern the words of someone presumably speaking American English. Luckily, however, I found that if I just smiled and feigned polite interest in what they were drawling at me, they were nice and said "y'all" a lot, which I thoroughly enjoyed, though I suspect it might be some sort of game to them to talk progressively more Southern and watch the uptight fancy yankees squirm as they laugh nervously and pretend to understand. They could probably just about say anything in that sweet little accent and we'd just smile back at them. It's sort of like how some of my classmates would interject obscenities into our high school government class homework to see if our teacher really read it or just graded us based on the name on the paper.

In all seriousness, though, I have a retraction to make. I may have once referred to Savannah as a "stripper name" and "some crappy red state southern city" a while back when critiquing Marcia Cross' choice in names for her twin daughters. As it turns out, Georgia has a lot more to offer than mediocre hip-hop and a high teen pregnancy rate. Savannah was actually very lovely and idyllic, like a real town with history that stretches back to the days when "neighborhoods" took more than 5 months to make and people actually had trees on their lawn. The people were very sweet (and not dumb-sweet) and didn't seem particularly racist, either. I know I give the South a hard time for being so, well... Republican, but I give credit where credit is due, and I can now say with absolute certainty that Savannah is a much more than just a stripper name.

Hot Topic: Global Warming

2008-05-18T21:43:00.005-04:00

Everybody needs a good laugh once in a while. Fortunately for me, and for all of you that I'm about to share this with, I read an article on aol.com today about global warming and got some updates on new data, along with some absolutely sensational comments from other AOL members. Those are usually far more interesting than the articles themselves. And for your enjoyment, I've included my personal favorite (no corrections for grammatical or spelling snafus, but I did italicize the best part!)

thenix 9:37:3pm May 18 2008
"The leftist have swarmed this chat polluting the minds of real americans. We the real americans need to make are point heard. George Bush has got the problems of the world under control and we have faith in him and in god."

(My immediate response: Wow, did a conservative actually just use the word "polluting"? At least he acknowledges that there is such a thing. Score one for treehuggers everywhere!)

Well I guess THAT'S settled, then. Don't worry guys, GB's got it all under control! I think I'd be more comfortable with some oafy frat boy from New Jersey named Todd in charge of solving all the world's problems. And he thinks God's on our side? My guess is that God's a little T.O.'d at how badly humans have raped creation since day one. Seriously, where is this guy besides inside his own ass? I want to get my hands on some of the KoolAid he's knocking back.

Sometimes it's easy to get real depressed at how screwed up things can be, but then when you realize that these are the poor saps that you and your ideals are up against, you can't even be mad anymore. I mean, how can you even take that seriously? I almost feel bad for picking on him. Sometimes people are just so dumb it's kinda cute.

Maybe he's onto something, though; maybe we'd all be a little happier if we "real" Americans would stop worrying about silly inconsequential things like hurricanes! Pfff, big deal. Who needs all that coastline anyway? Fatal heat waves and droughts and forest fires.... WHO GIVES A SHIT, am I right!? If we would just all trust that God, George Bush, Toby Keith, and the second amendment will take care of us, global warming would be solved and we'd all be fine forever. No matter how much we drive our gigantic Ford pickups.

The Finals Countdown

2008-05-05T21:48:00.009-04:00

Ah, if only this week were more like the titular hair metal anthem. My academic life could use a little synthesizer right now. Thanks to the poor, reckless decision to switch my major in GRADUATE SCHOOL, I am currently in year 5.5 of post-secondary study. It's a hard pill to swallow when you realize that if you had just been less of a whineass, you'd have a master's degree this month. But alas, I am indeed a whineass, and there is no additional degree nor career nor end to academics in sight. Hence, I am having the eleventh hell week of my life.

I am stressed out.
I am jittery.
I am a bit snippy.
I am procrastinating (hence the first blog in a month).

Tonight alone, I've painted my toes a delicious shade of plum, shopped for shoes and dresses, and watched yet another anticlimactic episode of The Hills. Unfortunately, I didn't include any Cinco De Mayo festivities, but the day isn't over yet. Never underestimate the new lows (i.e. drinking by yourself on a Monday night) an almost 24 year-old can sink to when avoiding school work.

And speaking of my impending birthday, I have one day left of being 23, and I'm not particularly sure how I feel about it. Another year closer to quarter-life (crisis?) and being in my mid to late 20s (eewww), but on the other hand, I still look 19, so who cares? I'll continue to get carded for scratch-off lottery tickets and R-rated movies. I am rather disappointed, though, that my birthday falls on a Wednesday during finals week and during a busy season at my job.

I can't complain though, my birthday is during an incredible time of year. It's starting to get warm and sunny, flowers are blooming, college lets out for the summer, there are multiple holidays that basically condone overeating and encourage rampant beer consumption, and there's the Kentucky Derby. I support anything that involves big hats, ridiculous dresses, and sipping cocktails during daylight hours, but this year, I have one complaint. Well, technically...two:

My beef with this photo, not necessarily in any order, because it's all annoying:
1. This is so horrendously posed and cheesy, I feel the need to shower.
2. I'm having a frightening flashback of when this was Nick & Jessica, the second most annoying couple on the planet. I'm pretty sure you could just photoshop their faces in there and it would be the exact picture from their saccharine publicity stunt a few years back.
3. Heidi is holding the binoculars THE WRONG WAY. Like the way you point them at your friends sitting next to you so they look really tiny when you're bored between innings at baseball games. This is clearly not the case here, however. I suspect it has something more to do with the operator's slow-churning brainpower.
4. Why does Heidi always choose to don a timepiece with a face the size of an appetizer plate on her frail little arm? I find it's a little distracting from her circusboobs and bionic face, and I don't like distractions when I gawk.

I wish you all a May full of sunshine, blue skies, barbeques, daytime drinking, and as little of Speidi as possible. And for the record, I hate the word titular. Please send synonym suggestions that sound intelligent, a little snarky, and less pornographic.

April Showers Bring Sass

2008-04-08T18:39:00.014-04:00

SURPRISE!

I'm alive!

It's been brought to my attention recently (or more like every day) that I haven't blogged in two months. And before that entry, I was also absent for two months. Gimme a break, guys, I've been really busy with activities such as drinking so much beer than I inadvertently drop my cell phone in the john, causing it to meet an early, (clean) toilet water-y demise.

In short form, things that have gone unreported and unsassed since we last gabbed:
- Naomi Campbell got arrested for allegedly spitting at a police officer in London's Heathrow Airport. Not exactly as much style as launching a cell phone, and tell me if I'm going a bit far here, but I'd sort of be honored if one of the most famous supermodels in history spit on me.
- Due to a restructuring of marriage laws, I'm sorry to report that toddlers can no longer wed in Arkansas. Unless of course they're pregnant, in which case there is no age limit on marriage. Thank God we got that issue resolved!
- Some woman sat on a toilet for two years. She had to be pryed off because her skin had grown onto the seat. I'm just wondering where her live-in boyfriend was taking a leak all that time.
- A guy in Sudan was forced to marry a goat after he was caught having sexual relations with it. No joke. Apparently it's the law there. He's just lucky he wasn't in Arkansas and the goat didn't get pregnant!
- An Indian woman accidentally gave birth to a toilet baby on a moving train, and said baby fell from the train because apparently that's how train potties work there, and it lived! I can't wait until the parents fill out the section about "The Day I Was Born" in its baby book.
- Britney is getting less crazy by the day, and I know I'm not the only one awaiting her triumphant return. Is this how Jews feel about the Messiah?
- TV shows are coming back, including The Hills, which come to think of it should have been here the whole time because it's a reality show right...? Right? Lauren got new hair, Whitney got a new job, Spencer's the root of all evil, Heidi's head is getting taller and thinner by the minute (and I do mean that literally, not figuratively. Honestly, how much more oblong can someone's noggin get? And why is it still growing skyward at the ripe age of 21? Is this an unforeseen side effect of her lip injections?), and Audrina still has dead-eyes, but at any rate, we're all glad they're back to make us all feel a little more normal and confident about our head shape.

Besides all of that, spring has sprung! It was a balmy 66F in CNY today and this girl stepped into some capri spandex pants and dusted off the ol' Huffy and went for a spin down the nearest dirt road, which is only stone's throw from my house since I live in the sticks. I haven't ridden a bike since about 8th grade, but I didn't have cardiac distress or any close-calls with speeding SUVs! A day I'm not getting kissed by luxury sport utilities is a joyful day indeed.

Upcoming events in my life:

Thursday, April 10 - 9pm
Queen of Sharks Comedy Improv Show
Mezzo Comedy Club - Astoria, Queens, NY
33rd St & Ditmars Ave

Friday, April 11
Bronx Zoo - Bronx, NY
Hopefully this won't turn out like last April's trip to a famous southern California zoo, where I'm pretty sure that all the animals conspired to aim their derrieres directly at my camera in every shot. Behold:

We'll see if this happens again. If it does, my next post shall be entitled Ass Across Animals: A Photographic Journey.

Happy Spring!

Sassybowl II

2008-02-03T14:59:00.001-05:00

I know, I know... it's been a while. But I'm sure you are all aware that nothing burns my britches like a lot of hoopla about football, and I couldn't NOT write a blog about my least favorite day of the year.

Originally, I was just planning on putting a link to last year's roast of the Superbowl in my away messages and facebook status, but then I realized that while my disdain for all things football hasn't changed, the teams, the players, and the location have, and this year in particular, they are all so deserving of a new verbal (written?) lashing. By now I'm sure you're tuned into the fact that Superbowl Sunday is like any other anticlimactic day for people like me. A lot of food, a lot of laying around, and a lot of yelling. With the exception of our regular programming being interrupted and losing the attention of our friends, family, and boyfriends for an entire half day, it's nothing special, if not downright annoying.

A few testimonials from like thinkers:
"I can't find a single thing amusing about watching football. It's like a lullabye." -Jackie H.

"I DO NOT like football, it's boring to me and I have zero in the way of interest in it." -Allie B.

"Totally boring, unless I'm watching it live and/or know someone playing... then it can at least be bearable." -Dia D.

The proof is in the pudding. Or at least in the bored, disgruntled female. Once I was forced to throw a Non-Superbowl Party for people that wanted to do anything other than watch the Superbowl, just so I'd have people to hang out with that day. I think like four people came, but no matter. We ate a lot of candy, gossiped, and had a great time. But this year is especially frustrating because everyone I know wants to watch the Superbowl, and I can't find any good irrelevant reasons for choosing a team to root for.

Arguments Against the Patriots.
Point 1. The Patriots used to receive my "support" because of their harboring cuties like Tom Brady, and how genuinely excited by and deserving of national championships their team used to seem. I've also never been one to turn down the opportunity to gawk at tight butt in tight pants. This year, however, I'm starting to get the impression that the Pats have developed a little too large a sense of entitlement, and Tommy Boy has changed his image from "Golden Boy" to "Absentee Father", and the hottest tush in the world can't redeem that title.

Point 2. Their coach just strikes me as an irreverent hoodie-sporting wanker. I'm all about doing your own thing and not just laying down and accepting seemingly pointless bureaucratic standards, but to continually wear what many consider to be pajamas while your colleagues take a few extra minutes each Sunday to carefully select some tapered, pleated chinos to accompany their embroidered polos is just rude. You're trying to say "I'm too cool to care", but the outfits are saying "I still haven't lost all the baby weight and I haven't the time to shower what with all the changings and feedings... ugh I'm not hot anymore... someone pass the cookie dough." I suspect that Billy B. was either born without a sense of occasion or he's just too body conscious to put on any clothing not befitting a woman who's recently given birth.

Point C. A Boston-area team already won a world championship this season. Share the wealth.

Arguments Against the Giants.
Point 1. I'm not even a football fan, and even I get the impression, from my 3 or so minutes of watching football this year, that the Giants are not exactly known for their ability to perform under pressure. We females like men who can step up to the plate.

Point 2, and perhaps the more important point. They say that hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and I say that a scorned woman doth not root for the favorite team of he who did the scorning. There seems to be a growing faction of women whose ex-boyfriends are Giants fans, which can lead us to conclude that either:
A) Giants fans are plentiful.
B) Giants fans are a-holes.
C) All of the above.

While I won't say whether or not I subscribe to this school of misdirected anger, I do happen to know that there will be women actively rooting against the team of their former flame for the sole reason that their exes and baby daddies will experience the deepest form of anguish a male can endure when their team loses this evening. Any broad worth her weight in peanuts can tell you that men are more likely to cry over sports than they are the demise of personal relationships. Therefore, rooting for a guy's team to suffer embarrassing defeat is the best revenge a girl can exact.

Based on those very scientific factors, the wrath of Bridget Moynahan, a possible sprained ankle, and my personal feeling that the G-Men aren't just going to roll over and die, I'm hereby predicting a close game, with the Patriots squeaking out a 34-28 victory. And the scorned ex-girlfriends of Giants fans will rejoice!

As usual, my attention will be focused on making and enjoying some delicious appetizers, and Puppy Bowl IV starting at 4pm EST on Animal Planet. They've had a strong start so far. Two of the puppies have decided to sit the beginning of the game out and instead snuggle in a corner, while Cornelius the Corgi was on fierce defense of the water bowl. A flag was thrown on the play for illegal blocking and Cornelius was reprimanded and told that he has to share. I'll be voting for Colt, the Bernese Mountain Dog, for MVP (Most Valuable Puppy). His formidable size and his affinity for stealing socks make him a strong player on both defense and offense. Don't forget to tune in for the Kitty Half-Time Show presented by Bissell - the soundtrack and the massive quantity of confetti are to die for.

I guess by tonight I'll have something to celebrate about - no more football for 6 months!

SOTU '08: Highlights, Lies & Shit That's Just Plain Funny

2008-01-28T22:48:00.007-05:00

My good friend Cassie Janis once said: "I can give the state of the union address in one word. Fucked."

Truer words were never spoken. Moving on to my favorite parts of the actual address:

"We've seen jubilant Iraqis holding up ink-stained fingers and celebrating their freedom."

Points: 1. Anytime you can work the word "jubilant" into a nationally televised presidential address, I'm on board. Way to start off with a bang, 43!

"Ramallah", "Hezbollah", "Tehran"

Points: -1.5, half a point deducted for each iffy pronunciation.

"This is a reflection of our national interests. It is the calling of our conscience. America opposes genocide in Sudan."

With our feelings, he means; much the way I oppose the music of Dave Matthews. By pretending it doesn't exist. Points: -1

"We support freedom in countries from Cuba and Zimbabwe to Belarus and Burma."

The only way we "support" Burma is by continuing to call it Burma. Burma's name was changed to Myanmar in 1989 when their new militaristic government took over. The US, Australia, Canada, and the UK don't use it, despite the fact that the European Union and United Nations do, because we apparently we don't respect a government's authority to rename its own country, which is basically a more passive-aggressive way of saying "we don't like your attitude." Points: -2 just for being sassy

I didn't really listen to the rest because I was busy laughing at all the funny middle eastern city names choked out with a heaping helping of Southern drawl. I think some random person on AOL put it best:

"It's really funny to see the rabid right wingnuts try to convince sane Americans that dumya's dog and pony show tonight was something significant instead of the nauseating tripe it truly was."

Infinity points for usage of the phrase "dog and pony show".

Just Sayin'...

2007-12-15T20:36:00.002-05:00

There was this baby born in India with four arms this week. She was named Lakshmi, after the Hindu goddess with multiple arms, and the little girl is being revered as an incarnation of the goddess. This is what one of our best and brightest American AOL users had to say about it:

"Anyway thats stupid that those crazy people would even think a innocent baby is one of those damn crazy hindu gods."

Hmmm, sounds familiar. Didn't a bunch of people a long time ago, and still now, think a baby was the human carnation of God? Wasn't that.... is that like that guy.... oh man, you know who I'm talking about? Born in a barn I think. What's his name? It starts with a J. Ends with like "esus of Nazareth" or something...

Sheri Shepard is a GD Idiot.

2007-12-05T22:00:00.002-05:00

I think the title summed it up pretty well. You can't really beat around the bush with things like this. Sheri Shepard, the newest addition to The View, is just a god damn idiot. She makes Elisabeth Satanbeck look like Stephen friggin' Hawking.

And not even like a funny endearing airhead in the way Jessica Simpson is... because it's funny and sort of cute when someone says something so ridiculous you just have to stare at them and help them realize what a dumb thing they said, and then you all laugh merrily together. Sheri Shepard, on the other hand, is just frightfully ignorant, and I ain't laughin'!

On one of her first shows, she said several times, that she wasn't sure if the earth was round or flat because she "never thought about it". And then tried to get all high and mighty by saying she was too busy thinking about "how she was gonna feed her child." Clap. Clap. Clap. Someone get this girl an effin' medal! She also said that if her son asked her if the world was round or flat, that she would go "look it up" with him. I was going to let that slide, but she frosted her moron cake this morning by arguing with the other hosts that Jesus not only existed before the Greeks, but that she "[doesn't] think anything predates Christians."

Don't you just love how politely Whoopi tries to correct her? What a saint. I probably would have crawled under the table or held my breath until I passed out.

SherShep literally doesn't know her own religion. I think she missed the memo that the Good Book is intended to read chronologically. That whole big chunk in the beginning? That was pre-Christ, hence pre-Christianity. God would probably be mad that you didn't give him mad props for all those stunts he pulled in the O.T. You betta reca'nize and give credit where credit is due or God is gonna smite your ass.

This is the sort of ignorance and human arrogance that is breeded by self-righteous Christians who, in my View, are somewhat convinced that that the world revolves around them and their "correct" beliefs. On second thought, they probably don't believe anything about rotation, because my guess is that they're not so convinced that there is an actual solar system in the first place, and why would they be? They don't even believe in dinosaurs, and if you don't revel in the unmatched awesomeness of dinosaurs, I DON'T WANT TO KNOW YOU.

And you people totally thought Star was bad.

Nothin' Says Salvation Like a Sex Scandal

2007-11-20T00:01:00.002-05:00

I absolutely love it when all I have to do to find something to write about is open my homepage, AOL.com, and my topic is jumping and "Ooh! Ooooh me!"-ing me like an elementary student that's so excited about knowing the answer that his ass is off the seat.

So another bunch of Holier-Than-Thou Christnazis that run a Southern megachurch got busted for another sex scandal today. Snoooorrrrre. But we all know I can't resist a great round of "Point & Laugh at the Hypocrites".

I haven't the energy to formulate yet another snide sentence about how NeoChristians and the Religious Right are hypocrites with the sort of closet skeleton freaky-ness that would make prostitutes and lawyers blush. It's like the whole "He who smelt it, dealt it" theory - juvenile, but oh so true. They go around blaming "the gays" for all the "moral decay" of society and demonizing (premarital) sex, drugs, and rock 'n roll, but seem to have no qualms about having affairs and gay affairs and lovechildren and taking trips to rehab, and then they tout off Oscar-worthy excuses for their hypocritical behavior such as "...it was a necessary evil to bring us back to a God- consciousness." Clap. Clap. Claaapppp. Yes, and once in a while I need to get so good and hammered that I lose one shoe, black out, and throw up 6 times the next day to remind me why I drink so rarely in the first place.

Anywho, Megachurch Scandal Du Jour is that an Atlanta cult - errrr, church's Archbishop was recently slapped with a court-ordered paternity test that revealed that said Archbishop, Earl Paulk, was actually the father of his "nephew", D.E. Paulk. For those of you who are a touch slow with Backwoods Geneology, that means Earl done knocked up his BROTHER'S WIFE. And now Uncle Earl is UNCLE DAD. Surprise surprise, this wasn't the first time UncleEarlDad turned up in court. Apparently there has been a legacy of sex scandals since the Paulks started running the show. Several women left the church in the early 90's after claiming that they'd been pressured into sexual relationships or coerced into sex by Paulk or other members of the church's administration. And then there's my personal favorite: one former church employee alleged that Earl Paulk manipulated her into having an affair with him by saying that it was her path to salvation. I mean, come on. That is GOLD. You at least gotta give the guy credit for such a creative line - I'm guessing no one's ever used that one before. God, on the other hand, might not be super pleased with him about that right now.

This is D.E. Paulk, senior pastor of the Atlanta church, nephew/son of Archbishop Earl Paulk. Observe how deeply despaired D.E. is by recent events. He appears to be meditating or praying, while his wife's face is saying "Welp, this is embarrassing. I married into a clan of whackjobs. D.E. said this would be 'my path to salvation'! What does that even mean? Ugh. I should have listened to my parents. Is he gonna hold onto me like this all day? I've got dinner to make and my shoulders are starting to get sweaty! Okay, five more minutes."

I sort of feel bad. They're such easy targets - just way too easy to pick on, and that makes me feel guilty. Give me something more difficult to work with, dammit! Moral of the story: these people need to stop trying so hard to be a certain idea of what God likes because it makes them go on crazy sin-binges after all that good behavior (or at least pretending to be good). Even the most disciplined of dieters occasionally takes a tumble down a chocolate-coated trans-fatty death spiral. All things in moderation, people. Evangelical doctrine and interfamilial infidelity included. Well, maybe not chocolate though.

Let's Call It A 'Spare' Instead

2007-11-19T23:12:00.002-05:00

So recently I was thinking how I might write about the TV Writers/ Broadway Stagehands/...I Think Some Other People Jumped on the Strikewagon Too? strike. It's been going on for way longer than I can give a shit and it makes me laugh that no one cares. People cared when the MTA workers in New York went on strike, and people care when teachers go on strike because transportation and education mat-ter. They both sort of make everything else in the world go 'round. It makes me feel a little better, in a way, because maybe our country's priorities really AREN'T that deep in the toilet after all. No TV though? Pffff... we'll be alright. It's called reruns and TV on DVD. It's also called TV today sucks worse than Pineapple Runts anyway. And Broadway Stagehands? Umm, get some news ones. It's not like your current help has Master's Degrees and state certification in Broadway Stagehandery. Scrape some riff-raff off the street and teach them how to wheel rolling sets around for seven dollars an hour and get on with your cornyness, if you must.

I must say, though, I'm a smidgen scared we'll be doomed to reality TV forever. This may or may not be related to the fact that I accidently watched The Real World: Sydney tonight. I'm scared for our future because in this "Real" World house:

- There are people on there named Ashli... WITH AN I!, Dunbar, and Cohutta or something? Colada? Culottes? All I know is, if I keep confusing your name with Calcutta or think you're a brand of motor oil or something, you have an assy name.

- There's so much Southern accent in the house that I can't listen for more than forty seconds before my left eye begins to twitch uncontrollably and I feel a sudden urge to shower.

- Some other ho is walking around in wet hair, half a towel, and a leopard bra mediating an argument about phone usage...?

- "His penis wants him to be single so bad." - a little nugget of wisdom courtesy of Ashli With An I. When God forgot the "e-y" at the end of her name, he also forgot a brain and sense of couth.

- "Baby, Shut the f*ck up." (in a Southern accent) Dumbo or whatever his name is got mad that his girlfriend called him Dummy Bear, because in his words, it's offensive because he is neither a Dummy nor a bear, which is a pretty keen observation, if you ask me.

- I've realized that another roommate, Trisha, is the frightening mixture of Satan, every annoying bleach blond Jappy girl with a raspy voice that went to Syracuse University, the cast of Mean Girls, and a couple wretched whores that stalked the halls of everyone's high school back in the day. This little California princess pushed another roommate, then cried to her mother: "I've never in my life said that I hate someone, and as a Christian, I don't want to have hate in my heart." Oh, and then she called the other girl fat. Very Christianlike. I must say, though, the pushee took it fairly well. She totally turned the other cheek, if you will (I will). I probably would have taken Little Miss Sunshine's eye out with a stiletto and tied her to a banister by her voluminous peroxide hair, but to each our own.

In all seriousness (or at least mostly seriousness), I hope all the writers and stagehands and whoever the hell else come back soon so they can work and support their families (or their drug habits) and lead productive lives again (or for once). Best of luck with that, and hold out for a good health plan, guys!

The Candyman Dropped the Ball

2007-11-18T16:16:00.001-05:00

Dear Friends,

A most unfortunate event has come to my attention as of late, and I'm enlisting anyone who's willing to help in my newest cause.

Yesterday's trip to the Wegman's bulk candy section has made me realize that the recent roster overhaul in Wonka's Runts Candy was not just a temporary change, and I can remain silent no longer.

First, a few years ago, Runts dropped Lime like a dirty shirt and replaced it with Watermelon. I didn't care that much because, well, Lime sort of sucked and so did Watermelon. Watermelon was just a wee bit bigger, but they were the same shape and color - green - so it was effectively the same to me. I just steered clear and shoveled around the green ones so as to include as many Bananas as possible. (If you have ever lived in Upstate New York and bought bulk runts and noticed an eerie lack of Banana presence, you now know why.) When they replaced Limey with Wawa, they also added Blueberry, which was a welcomed and delicious inclusion - more variety in color, shape, and flavor.

True Love: Runts 1999 - 2007

Rest in Peace, little guys.

Recently, the Runts people (aka Nestle) were smoking a lot of low-quality meth and decided that Wa-wa-melon should also get axed. If they'd only stopped there, I'd be fine right now, but I'm not, BECAUSE THEY ALSO DECIDED TO OUST BLUEBERRY AND APPLE/ CHERRY/ WHATEVER THAT RED FLAVOR WAS. IT'S GONE AND I AM NOT OKAY WITH THIS.

It gets worse. They decided to replace Wawa, Blue-B, and Redthingy with Mango. FUCKING. MANGO. That fruit (and flavor in general) sucks, unless it's part of a rum-filled tropical frozen libation. They also added Pineapple, which I'll admit is a delicious fruit - one of my favorites in fact - but makes for a rancid candy flavor. I'm in shambles, people. My mixed bag of bulk candy just isn't the same and I can't seem to make that emptyness go away. I haven't bought Runts since my first attempt at eating this revamped and hopelessly RUINED candy, and to date, no amount of gummy bears has filled the hole in my heart left by the demise of those little apple-shaped nuggets of blue and red.

Bastard Imposter Homewrecking Candy: 2007 - ?

Nestle was probably sick of getting internet feedback via the Wonka Website, as I'm sure many others have been crushed by this tragedy, and this is most certainly why the only way to reach these people is by regular mail. Honestly, everyone has a feedback section on their webpage in this day and age. But perhaps Oompa Loompas aren't computer literate and I should be more sensitive to their culture. The point is, if you wouldn't mind spending the time, I'd appreciate if you wrote a strongly-worded letter regarding this matter to those life-ruining Wonka/Nestle bastards. I'll even buy you the stamp.

Nestlé USA
Office of Consumer Services
PO Box 2178
Wilkes-Barre, PA 18703

Willy Wonka & The Chocolate Factory has just dropped at least three spots on my "Favorite Movies of All Time" list. Even Charlie could not have cheered up now. You could have prevented this, Gene Wilder, you nautical acid-tripping jerk.

Love in Banana,
Lauren

Oh No They Didn't: Part I

2007-11-06T19:21:00.003-05:00

I have a bone to pick. Today's Rant: Facebook "Relationships".

Can I just say that I get really annoyed when facebook assaults me with information about people's new relationship statuses? Why are you people even putting up your new status with a link to the profile of your flame du jour?

1. Yes, I am absolutely going to click on their picture, which you probably linked up knowing that I would do such a thing and see them and admire their looks (or not) and therefore the quality your game. However, this usually backfires and makes me laugh or develop a sudden case of nausea. Or worst case scenario, their picture doesn't actually feature their face and then I KNOW things aren't good.

2. Do you really want all of your friends (or shall I say random acquaintances) to know the intimate details and exact days of your breakups and makeups with whatshisface? Or that you started dating that girl you drunkenly banged after a rough Thanksgiving Eve? You actually should be rather embarrassed that you are advertising your fortieth new relationship this calendar year on the internet.

3. DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED on people who were too lazy/ thrifty/ technologically advanced to send out engagement announcements. And don't try to weasel your way out by saying that you wanted to save the environment by not using all that paper. Poppycock. Notifying everyone of your bethrothal via facebook is the equivalent of having your ceremony in a barn and your reception in the parking lot of the volunteer fire department.

Oh, and as a nota bene to the engaged folks, the last thing anyone wants to see is a facebook album of the (most likely tiny, unattractive) ring your fiance purchased for you with what was likely the money he saved from not purchasing engagement announcements or, say, paying your next electricity bill, especially when you have the gall to put up captions like OMG LOOK AT MY BLING/ROCK/ICE/other generic disgusting monikers for jewelry not even befitting the gawdy likes of Sean "I have a new nickname every week" Combs. AND THEN expecting all of your "friends" to comment on how "beautiful" your "ring" "is".

Let's just be thankful I haven't yet received a shower or wedding invite electronically, but when this happens, I will probably send you a HANDWRITTEN thank-you card and a copy of Emily Post's "Wedding Etiquette". And then to further prove my point, I shall vacuum-seal myself into a leopard print satin dress for your wedding, wherein I shall become extremely drunk courtesy of your open bar, sing a very inebriated karaoke rendition of "The Lady Is a Tramp", and likely lose at least one shoe. And don't go expecting my makeup to remain unsmeared, either. If it makes the world more aware of what's improper, I'm willing to completely embarrass myself for the day in front of your father-in-law's coworkers.

I vote that we just give up on putting you "real" relationships onto facebook, and definitely give the boot to the electronic engagement announcement and virtual photo album of your gumball machine-lookin' ring. It's like putting your salary on myspace, it's just TMI and gross. If that's your style, please considering relocating to your home state of Tacksylvania. Pick a hetero lifemate to be in a fake relationship with, and stick with them. Someone you can stay with longer than 6 weeks and that will value you enough to buy you some invites with hand calligraphy and a ring that doesn't look like it was acquired with ski-ball tickets.

The Light Stuff

2007-10-23T16:46:00.002-04:00

Oh-oh-OHH-OHH-OHH, Oh-oh-OHHH-OHHH! Sorry, I couldn't help myself.

I think we all know that what I "do" here is mainly provide lighthearted comic relief. A break from the issues, if you will. Because the news is just depressing, like who wants to hear about people dying and politics and important things? That is, unless, it's politics-related because a person of political importance had a gay affair in an airport bathroom or something along those lines, because that's not sad, that's entertainment.

But today was a different day. For once, I felt that I had to report the hard news, as upsetting as it may be. I just want to take a moment to honor a government official in India who fell to his death as a result of being attacked by a gang of wild monkeys. Not kidding. Maybe he had a candy bar in his coat pocket or something. Either way, I think we can all learn something from this. Like that we shouldn't stand on balconies when packs of hyper rhesus monkeys are around. Or that we shouldn't just allow animals to roam about free and form gangs. We all know that that happens with teenagers when they have too much free time, so why wouldn't it hold true with other species?

Anyway, today's blog was mainly going to be about:

1. How annoying California is. It's annoying.

2. How someone should start like, a magazine trading/recycling club. Mainly because it makes me mad to spend like $4 on magazines that I read once and throw away, especially when it's one of those trashy celebrity gossip magazines that act like they're doing some great service to humanity, but they're totally not, and yet you can't stop reading them, but you're still embarrassed to buy them at the supermarket because you're worried the clerk is going to think you're the type of ninny that reads trashy celebrity gossip magazines, which is an unfounded concern because she probably reads them all the time on her lunch breaks. I'm thinking this is a common person vs. self conflict. (Did I just remember something from high school English?) Not to mention, it would be wicked good for the environment to be wasting less paper. I think Britney Spears could be personally held responsible for the death of an entire rain forest, but that girl's got enough problems to worry about without that on her plate, so we'll leave her alone. For now.

But think about it - maybe there would be fewer paparazzi incidents if people weren't buying Us Weekly and its bastard younger cousins, OK! and In Touch Weekly, and Life&Style, which is really the biggest rip-off and a huge joke because given it's name, one would assume that it's about life. Or perhaps style. But it's NOT, it's just more of the same celebrity-stalking crap that everyone loves. I still buy those things once in a while if they have interesting- slash- pathetic articles like "Heidi Montag: Revenge Plastic Surgery" on the cover. Because if you've been picked on for being flat-chested all your life, there is no revenge greater than GIVING IN TO THE DEMANDS OF YOUR TORMENTORS BY PURCHASING LARGE, GENERIC BOOBS.

And if we were really-really lucky, a dip in sales of these types of magazines might actually ruin the careers of annoying "celebrities" whose entire careers are indeed based on their appearances in said magazines. A large handful of young starlets would never be heard from again if it weren't for their constant coverage in these things. Like, what does Sienna Miller or Nicole Richie or Britney Spears actually do? That is, besides be self-important, really skinny but now pregnant, and a bad parent, respectively? That's not news-worthy, people. I myself personally know conceited fashion victims and pregnant people and bad parents. None of those things are particularly special or hard to be, so I want some new "celebrities" in my trash magazines, and I refuse to buy any more until I see someone on the cover I have never seen before. Even if the main article is just about how this new replaceable starlet is pregs.

3. Baby Names. I recently received a MySpace bulletin (for you laymen, or as I like to call you, "normal", a bulletin is like a little email that gets sent to all of your MySpace "friends", none of whom actually care about its contents) that went something like "List your baby's name and we can see if there are any matches!" Many of these "bulletins" are really just juvenile chain letter games people do when they're bored or having nothing to do besides talk about their baby's horrible name or how if you don't pass that bulletin on, you're probably going to get killed in your sleep at exactly midnight. You know, all of your favorite types of messages to get.

So I gave in and read this baby one. Not because I have a baby, but many of my MySpace friends do, and a lot of people on MySpace do in general, because that's just how MySpace people are. They procreate young. Evidently, the majority of them are also too young and foolish to come up with a good god damn name for a human child. I don't even know if I still have the bulletin - I might have deleted it for fear that I'd remember these names and someday run into these people and be embarrassed for both of us. My main issues are that:

I. A large portion of today's "parents" have no regard for basic spelling or respect for pnemonics. Their M.O. is something like: "Why NOT add a stray vowel or two to make our child's name "unique"? Despite the fact that it's not all that unique if it still SOUNDS EXACTLY THE SAME. But truthfully, with your spelling, it should sound NOTHING like the name you're going for. If you really think your child should be named after a pause between thoughts in a musical number, then by all means, name her Cadence if you must. Kaydence, however, is just awful and ruins the whole thought of the name. Magic Spelling became unacceptable upon 5th grade graduation. Enough with the Z's and K's and Y's and switching vowels and ending things with an "IE" or just one oh-so-classy "I" if you really want your child to be "different". Kassadi is a just plain crappy name and everyone is going to assume her future includes hepatitis and very few teeth.

II. Then there are the people who just choose a random mishmash of other names they've heard, which I don't recommend, because it generally has rather stripperesque results. I personally would NOT name my child Jaelabrielle, because well, I believe your name coincides with what people expect of you and where you'll go in life, and how many Jazmynns, Lolas, and Celexas do you know at, say, Johns Hopkins Medical School? And isn't Celexa like, erectile dysfunction medication? Maybe Celexas are floating around there after all.

I had a friend recently tell me a story about a "woman" he'd met named Alexia (pronounced uh-LEX-ee-uh). I knew something was awry as soon as the story started, because who is named ALEXIA? It's one of those weird hybrid names I spoke of before, you know, the ones that land you in Strippertown. The point is that Alexia turned out to be a man - one who was rather convincing as a "woman" what with all the hormone therapy, but a card-carrying owner of a penis, nonetheless. The lesson we can pull from this is that only men who become women name themselves Alexia, and you should therefore not bestow this moniker upon your innocent daughter. For one, it sounds like a prescription sleep aid, and secondly, everyone is going to think she used to be a man. Case closed.

III. Probably my least favorite, though I do give credit for often maintaining correct spelling, are the people who choose a random noun or adjective OH GOD and name their child that. Like those New Zealanders who tried to name their son 4Real. Because you know, he's not going to hate you for that in 15 years. Who wouldn't love to have gangster sayings and text message slang for a name? But the New Zealand government wouldn't allow names that begin with numbers, so do you know what the parents chose instead? Superman. They named. A child. Superman. That's what you name a hamster you get for your 10th birthday, not the child you conceived and carried. Let's just put the kid in therapy and on Zoloft right now. That's child abuse.

Then there was a child on the list with the middle name Moon or Moonbeam or something equally irresponsible. Noun and adjective names are just plain wonky. Just because you name your baby Precious (or Preshuss) does not mean she will turn out to be. The opposite is probably more often true. I'm just worried that one day my children will be picked on because THEY'LL be the kids with the "weird" names along with Anne and Katherine and Thomas, the children of the other parents in town who didn't want their kids to end up at The Crazy Horse or the local packie.

4. What should I be for Halloween? I don't know how to do polls on here, I'm not that fancy. So just comment or shoot me an email or a MySpace bulletin. Just don't tell me I'm going to die at midnight if I don't dress up as Amy Winehouse or something.

Person on Board

2007-10-09T20:16:00.001-04:00

I just want you all to know that moving to California has had at least one positive effect on my life amid all the other demi-disasters. I have found the abortion argument to end all abortion arguments. Drumroll, please...

Fetuses are clearly not considered 'people' in the eyes of the law, because a pregnant woman in a car by herself can't legally drive in the carpool lane. And you thought our lawmakers were those crazy Planned Parenthood-bombers who moonlight on street corners with giant photos of what appears to be uncooked Chef Boyardee beefaroni. They should be more careful about the mixed messages they're sending.

Forget war and universal health care, presidential candidates should really be focusing on fetal HOV lane rights. Unborn babies have been waiting in slow traffic for too long. Their mothers deserve a faster route to the nearest bathroom. I refuse to stand by and let this perverse denial of human rights go on any longer. We citizens need to protest.

In short, you can't be a person in one sense and not a person in another. If you're going to disagree with abortion, you need to recognize and support fetuses' right to carpool. The babies saved from abortion are probably gonna end up in a trash can anyway, so let the little dumpster fetus ride in the HOV lane in the meantime.

*Disclaimer: Babies in trash cans are not usually as cute as my visual aid depicts. Please do not attempt this with your own baby as results are not typical and may vary by individual.