Category Archives: General Rant

Please STEP ASIDE (It Could LITERALLY Save Your Life)

Please STEP ASIDE (It Could LITERALLY Save Your Life)

airplane-the-movie-that-launched-1000-spoofs-is-35-years-old-take-a-look-back-at-just-h-486780One result of the many changes in my life this past year is that I now commute between states on a fairly regular basis (every 2 weeks or so) and have to fly to do it. I know you’d think someone of my stature and fame would be doing that via private jet, but it appears that Alaska Airlines did not message that out to the numerous degenerates who muck up my airplane and hijack the valuable time of my pilot and staff with their ridiculous demands.

I think we can all agree that flying, especially when forced to mix with the likes inhabiting steerage, is not the most pleasant experience one could come up with. Surveys show it is often a close second behind prison rape. I imagine that is probably a little less pleasant.

Now that I am living this peripatetic lifestyle (and yes, I Googled the shit out of that word) I have been witness to every flavor of traveler that exists.

As such, in order to keep myself out of jail for any number of assault charges, I always have a little one-on-one with myself before starting this process by deciding I will simply have a smile on my face throughout the travel day, no matter what. The result is that I look slightly dazed and more-than-slightly unhinged (both of which are actually true under any circumstance). But, the response is usually either one of a returned smile and pleasantry or fear and avoidance, either of which I gladly take on a travel day.

After all, my mom used to always say that you catch more flies with honey.

As an aside, I’ve always thought that was a disturbing saying. Flies are filthy insects who gather on piles of fecal matter because that is like their version of an all-you-can-eat buffet. Then after they’ve had their disgusting bacchanalia, having covered themselves in all matter of disease, decide it would be a riot to buzz around your head before landing squarely on your food to wipe off their gunked up feet. So, really, if we are to be accurate, you can actually catch more flies with shit than honey.

This is a statistical fact

You can keep your god-damned flies!

At any rate, one of the occasional bright spots in all of this is when I do my online check-in and that beautiful, blue and green harbinger of hope shines brightly in the top left corner of my boarding pass:

This seemingly small but life-changing symbol is literally my favorite thing on earth – sorry kids, but Mommy needs this!

I know, I know. If I just took a month off to navigate the catacombs of the Homeland Security process to get this done permanently, life could always be sunny. Have you not been listening? I’M A VERY BUSY PERSON!! “Making a Murderer” isn’t going to binge watch itself, people!

The biggest reason pre-check means the world to me is not because I don’t like taking my shoes off in public or shoving my endless liquid beauty products into Lilliputian sized containers. It’s because the level of idiocy that presents itself around that security conveyor belt turns me into a raving lunatic.

So I ask you all this.

Nay, I beg of you!

Can we, as a people, as a civilized race, PLEASE agree to move aside from the conveyor belt to re-dress and put our shit away?

Just gather up all your stuff and STEP ASIDE. They even provide perfectly nice benches and tables, sometimes only 10 feet away, for you to manage your shoes, belts, liquids and computers, out of harms way. Because, you are clearly unaware that I am looming right behind you, ready to stab you in the back of the knee, if you do not STEP THE FUCK ASIDE.

Listen, I’m already letting you on my private jet and allowing my staff to be at your disposal. The very least you all can do is STEP ASIDE.

Seriously.

STEP. THE. FUCK. ASIDE.

Thank you for your attention and enjoy your flight.

Bad Naked

Bad Naked
Pray for me.

Pray for me.

 

There are things in this world that simply cannot be unseen.

A DayGlo orange penis hovering near your face, for instance. That would be something you cannot reverse. It will be forever burned into your retinas as well as your psyche.

I suppose you’d like me to explain myself.

In many cities in the northern hemisphere, the summer solstice is a time of celebrating the longest day of the year and the promise of long, sun-drenched days. Often these celebrations culminate in a parade or festival. And, at many of these parades and festivals, otherwise rational people often turn into crazed, naked druids.

Or at least I’m assuming they are normally rational. That could be the first flaw in my theory.

In the past I had always avoided these types of festivals, less because of the crazy naked factor and more because parking is terrible.

I’m nothing if not practical.

So, imagine my response when, quite by accident, I ended up driving right through the middle of one of these nude celebrations. Sitting at a traffic light, I was suddenly surrounded by an array of naked, body-painted bicyclists. Turning my head to the left, there hung my aforementioned DayGlo orange penis exactly at eye level.

(I say MY DayGlo orange penis because, in my world, if I see your penis, we have some level of relationship. If your junk is six inches from my face, we are dating and I at least got a nice dinner first.)

Which brings me to the whole naked bike riding thing (yes, it’s a thing). This seems about as practical an activity as operating a deep fryer in the nude.

From Portland to Chicago to London, some lunatic nudist (fantastic band name, by the way) decided at some point that everyone should become one with their bike seats.

Or, if you are in Portland, Oregon, your unicycle seat.

A quick note to nude cyclists: Please keep in mind that all that body paint does, indeed, smear when you sit. So, just know that when you walk around in your head-to-toe DayGlo body paint, you have a flesh colored strip going up your back side.

I feel compelled to make you aware of this even though it is very apparent you could give a rat’s nuts what you look like.

Lest I sound like a total and complete prude here, let me say that I do not begrudge these people their constitutional right to make bad decisions in a public arena. It’s kind of what our country was built on.

However, I live my life as if I dwell in a Victorian funeral home with black crepe over the mirrors, only, instead of preventing the deceased from getting trapped in the looking glass, I am preventing the image of my naked self from being trapped in my own eye sockets thereby rendering me blind.

There comes a time in all of our lives when we simply have to look away. It’s for the best.

So I look at (or avert my eyes from) these free spirits with a level of admiration.

They have no body shame, which is another building block of our civilization. They don’t give a shit what anyone else thinks and are having the time of their lives. They are living in their naked moment.

Thank god for sensible footwear.

Thank god for sensible footwear.

Though, that moment won’t look quite as intriguing when they are trying to get lead paint out of their meat and two veg later in the night.

So, happy summer!! I support you in your dedication to flying your freak flag. Though I, for one, will just be sure to choose route option #2 on my GPS next time.

Personal Space Invaders

Personal Space Invaders

At one time or another we have all come across one. Some of you may even be one. What I speak of is the Close Talker, the all-too-frequent person who just loves to get all up in your space.

It seems like, and this may just be me and my pile of neurosis, but the universally agreed-upon personal space boundary of 18 inches to 4 feet seems to be in jeopardy. I’d love to think it’s simply my exceptional magnetism that is causing people to stick to me like flies on shit, but I believe it may be a wider spread problem.

It seems to crop up all over the place. At work, social events, standing in lines. Who hasn’t had that  person behind you in line seeming to climb up on your back while waiting to buy their Hot Pockets and Tab?

No one will take your crappy food products, honey. Back off and relax. Do NOT make me mark my territory….because I will. In fact, it’s one of the few times when I sort of wish I had a penis, as marking off that distance would be much more effective with that tool at my disposal.

We are not in China, people! We have wide open prairies here.

We are not in China, people! We have wide open prairies here.

Then, there are those who get up in your junk because they are simply liquored up. These people live in the “negative-space” world where they actually seem to try to crawl inside of you.

Now, I understand situational space limitations when one needs a drink at a crowded bar. I’m not an animal, people. I have feelings.

Barkeep! Another Gin Fizz for the little lady!!

But, if you are pushing your way in for, let’s say, your 10th drink, I no longer have the empathy I would have had for your 1st or 2nd.

I had an experience just recently with this exact situation. While standing at the bar of a groovy new hotspot I started to feel a strange pressure against my back that slowly turned into a full-body press. When I turned around to see who my assailant was, I realized it was a famous person who I will refer to as “Sam” because that is his name.

This fine establishment was obviously not his first stop of the night as he was doing that squinty-eyed swaying sort of thing that indicates either an astigmatism and vertigo or being tanked. Me thinks it was the latter.

So, instead of swaying and toppling over, why not just lean up against someone and hope they don’t make any sudden moves. Find a human lamp post, as it were. And if said lamp post is a woman, and I am a drunk dude, all the better.

I was a human lamp post to the stars. A very proud moment for me. Though not so much for him as he was soon escorted out of the place.

So, the moral of  the story is simply this:

Back the hell off!!!!

I will leave you all with this educational film. Watch it and learn. And, by God, stand your ground!

 

The Good, The Bad, The Ugly of Fashion

The Good, The Bad, The Ugly of Fashion

“If you wore a trend the first time around, you don’t get to wear it the second time around.”
― Stacey London

Oh, Stacey London, you are the Socrates of Style. If only people listened.

Like death and taxes, one can always take comfort in the consistency of bad fashion making a return appearance in our culture. It is a testament to the creative limitations of the fashion industry.

And proof that we are a planet of lemmings.

I’ve often wondered where fashion trends are born. I know where they all die – in the back of my closet. But what sort of demented mastermind came up with the idea to resurrect culottes (which first came into fashion as knee-breeches commonly worn by gentlemen of the European upper-classes from the late Middle Ages or Renaissance).

Yeah, I read shit.

I picture a room full of these guys huffing hairspray and coming up with the Summer line.

I have been unfortunate enough to have been the willing victim of several hideous fashion trends. Just like the rest of you, I have happily worn shoulder pads so big I had to step sideways through doorways. I’ve worn neon mini skirts with suspenders and sang “Oh Mickey You’re So Fine” whilst kicking up my sparkly tennis shoes.

Let’s take a moment to walk down memory lane. Well, not so much memory lane, since most of this crap is back or on it’s way back into the fashion focus. Maybe more of a walk of shame.

Hammer Pants (or the “I’ve taken a dump and you can’t tell” pant)

Then:

A bit of street pimp with a dash of Ali Baba.

Now:

Jesus, Chris Brown, did you beat Rihanna with that thing?

The One-piece Jumper

Then:

Just because you could make it in you hobby room, does not mean you should.

Now:

I want to wrap him in a blanket and put him down for a nap.

I want to wrap him in a blanket and put him down for a nap.

 Overalls

Then:

The item of clothing that knew no racial, gender or economic boundaries.

The item of clothing that knew no racial, gender or economic boundaries.

Now:

Here, let me just put on my jaunty chapeau before I hit the fields, Pa Joad.

 Bonus Now:

I…wha?....huh??? I am a business man. No, I am a blue collar man. No, I am a bookish hipster. How about just NO!

I…wha?….huh??? I am a business man. No, I am a blue collar man. No, I am a bookish hipster. How about just NO!

Double Bonus Now:

What do we love more than a hillbilly? A BRILLIANT hillbilly!

What do we love more than a hillbilly? A BRILLIANT hillbilly!

I could go on for many pages about neon, ripped up t-shirts, Varnais sunglasses, mock turtlenecks and platform tennis shoes. But, I think we all get the rather sordid picture here. So, I will leave you with a quote from my favorite famous gay, who is NEVER wrong.

“Fashion is a form of ugliness so intolerable that we have to alter it every six months.”
― Oscar Wilde

A Bunch Of Words About Aging

A Bunch Of Words About Aging

I am 35 years old.

Oh, shut up! I know I’m not 35 – let me explain!!

I seem to have frozen in time at that age. I have not advanced one second past that age. I would say I will die at the age of 35 even though most people will argue that I will be more like 95 (and a HUGE pain in everyone’s ass).

I felt my best at that age and decided I’d hang out there indefinitely. At 35, I was in good physical shape, blazing trails in a successful career, had disposable income and was under the misguided impression that I was in control of my destiny.

I was not too young, nor was I considered old. I was in my sweet spot.

But, my body clearly did not get that memo.

So, this being the case, I feel I’ve become somewhat bi-polar with my insides and my outsides not matching up. I have a good angel/bad angel on each shoulder giving me opposing views.

Sitting on one shoulder sits the woman who will stop at nothing to remain young and beautiful. Let’s call her Carrot Top.

I know!!! I totally look like a woman!!

I know!!! I totally look like a woman!!

On my other sloping  shoulder sits the gnarled and bent figure of the aged and self-possessed woman. We will call her Kathy Bates.

Yep, I’m naked and I’m OK with that, goddamnit.

Yep, I’m naked and I’m OK with that, goddamnit! Get over it!

It doesn’t help that I live in the land of happy, shiny, perky breasts. The buying public, and no matter what my Visa statement says, it does NOT include me, has set the standard for what beauty is all about. The buying public is named Stassi, Shauna, Brandeeeee or some other made-up name.

Do I, like, have something in my teeth?

Do I, like, have something in my teeth?

So, back to Carrot Top and Kathy. Let’s start with Carrot. He sits there with his plump lips, surprising eyebrows and permanent eyeliner. He is telling me that all I need to do is a lift here (to help those falling butt cheeks),  a tuck there (to shore up the jowls that make me look a little more like Nixon every year), a tweeze (because what is it that makes you turn into the Fly after 35?), and a few good shots of some unnatural material to plump you up in just the right spots.

All this for the special package cost of your soul.

But there is Kathy sitting there, a little stooped and a bit androgynous in her look. She wears no makeup or adornments because, well, what the hell’s the point?

She whispers into my ear in a raspy voice “We’ve worked at this beauty thing for decades. We’ve bought every lip plumper, push up bra, gut-sucking underwear, and spent the national debt on anti-aging everything like good little soldier.

Aren’t you just weary of all that work and wasted energy? You could have written several novels, found a cure for the common cold AND found Bin Laden way earlier with the time and brainpower put toward “beauty”….which is a subjective word, by the way.”

(We will pause here while Shauna looks up the word “subjective.”)

So I ask, is there a happy middle ground? Aren’t we supposed to learn moderation as we get older (along with where interest rates are and how our 401K is performing)? Can we learn to love ourselves enough to allow our bodies to age gracefully, as intended?

I see you getting all indignant, shaking your fist at the sky and bellowing “But it’s not us, its MEN who make us this way! It’s MEN who expect perfection!” This may well be at least part of the problem. I don’t know of any men who hang posters of Madeleine Albright in their rooms because she has a really big brain.

And, yes, most men would take a killer rack over a sagging one any day of the week. Who wouldn’t?

I know we’d like to think of ourselves as highly evolved creatures, but the bottom line is, we’ve been doing this little dance since we crawled out of the primordial slime. The vision of a healthy, big-breasted cave woman with childbearing hips sent all the knuckle draggers into a frenzy…just like today.

Oh, our foreheads have come in a bit (except for James VanDerBeek), we’ve discovered bathing (except for Joaquin Phoenix), and now we can talk (often, this is NOT a good thing), but those pesky little DNA strands are still calling the shots.

Don’t you give me the stink-eye young man, you get in that shower NOW!

Don’t you give me the stink-eye young man, you get in that shower NOW!

Women still want to look attractive to men and men still want them to look attractive.

So, do we go against our very nature? Do we thumb out nose at our chemical make up? Why are you asking me? I have no freakin’ idea!

But, it would be nice to think that our intellect would have exceeded this need by now. It does seem like we should know better and would be able to hold other deeper traits in higher regard.

So, it may seem obvious that the Kathy Bates has won the fight. She has triumphed over shallowness and has driven her point down our turkey-like throats. We will be happy with who we are. We will find healthy, graceful, and proud examples to follow. We will love ourselves, cellulite and all.

And, only the evolved, forward-thinking men will be allowed in our sacred presence.

Only the men who, themselves have reached that inner peace. You know, the ones with the “love handles” because somehow that makes fat cute. The ones with arms that jiggle like your grandmother’s…

Gotta go now, Carrot Top is driving me to my Liposuction appointment.

Valentine’s Day – SPOILER ALERT From A Grumpy Non-Romantic

Valentine’s Day – SPOILER ALERT From A Grumpy Non-Romantic

I am not a Valentine’s Day type of gal. It’s never mattered what my relationship status has been. I just have never gotten into it.

I see it like I see New Year’s Eve – it’s amateur night.

But, in honor of St. Valentine (who most people think was made up by Geoffrey Chaucer who I love so maybe it all makes sense after all) I will throw a giant bucket of cold water on the event everyone is hoping will happen tonight.

Yep, I’m all sour grapes. Turn back now.

With the constant deluge of “leaked” celebrity sex tapes, I think we may all be under the misguided idea that we are looking pretty hot and sexy ourselves during “the sex.”

I hate to burst any bubbles, but most of the time these celebrities are fully aware they are being taped so they are adjusting their responses accordingly, able to look seductive and well-coiffed even at the peak of the experience.

They are THESPIANS after all, with many having completed the all-important Porn Method Acting 101 class.

The rest of us, however, look like we either stubbed our toe or ate a lemon when we reach the top of the mountain. But we don’t know it and we don’t particularly care because NO ONE IS LOOKING.

It’s in our DNA to close our eyes because otherwise the human race would cease to exist. It’s hard to get that picture out of one’s head once it’s there.

Let’s face it, real people sex, while lot’s of fun, can be kind of ugly to look at since, despite what may be happening in your head at the time, we are not professionals.

Exhibit A:

What we think we look like.

What we think we look like.

 

The terrible reality.

The terrible reality.

So, Godspeed, my romantic darlings. Buy those giant hearts full of chocolate and the red roses, wear that super tight dress to dinner and, for the sake of humankind, keep those eyes closed!

[Creative disclaimer: In reality, I am a hopeless romantic. Hell, Love Actually is my favorite movie! But hopeful and happy is just not as funny as bitter and grumpy.] 

Fact: Zombies Don’t Floss

Fact: Zombies Don’t Floss

Some of you may have gathered by now that I have a tendency to get a little obsessive about some odd little thing. Ya think?

So, in keeping with that, I’d like to take just a moment to discuss our nations disturbing tolerance, nay acceptance, of bad oral hygiene.

Let’s start with two of my favorite movies this year – Django Unchained  and Les Miserables. Is there an award for best dental makeup? If so, it would be a dead heat.

I think the attention to detail is fantastic but the quantity of sheer gore in Django did nothing to turn my stomach like Leonardo Dicaprio’s mouth.

Though, I do posit this question: How could his teeth be so nasty while his skin is still so….luminous?

Why did I still find him repugnantly attractive?

Why did I still find him repugnantly attractive?

It was a similar experience with visiting early 1800’s France. There wasn’t a pearly white in that country, evidently.

Not only could I feel the winds of revolutionary change, I could smell the thick fog of halitosis wash over me along with the national pride.

Thank God John Waters didn’t take this one on and add Smell-O-Rama to the experience.

I think tooth decay is the new terminal disease with actors and a sure-fire road to an Oscar nod.

You have Alzheimer’s, Cancer, Irritable Bowel Syndrome? You acting hack! Smear some green gunk on your teeth and look odiferous and you are a THESPIAN!

So, now on to the smaller screen and some actual, real people who clearly do not have a dental staff.

**Disclaimer: I have seen a combined 90 seconds of all the hillbilly TV shows that are on right now. So, yes, I am making a leap of judgment. But, I feel OK with that. I can be judgey, don’t judge me for that.

Not sure there is much to say, really, with titles like Hillbilly Handfishin’ (one must always remember to drop the “g” to be authentic), Duck Dynasty (I actually thought this was some sort of homage to Daffy Duck but I was very wrong), and Swamp People (obvious),  I think we can safely surmise that Hillbilly Dentist is not doing a gangbuster business.

Which brings me to my idea for an awesome new show called….you guessed it….Hillbilly Dentist, where a Doctor’s Without Borders type group of dentists travel the Bayou in search of the most disgusting maw.

Look Mama, I’m on the television box!

Look Mama, I’m on the television box!

I think our tolerance for watching icky things has run amuck. I can watch people do unspeakable things that are usually reserved for the privacy of ones home (or are deemed illegal by the health department in many states) and not blink an eye.

I make one exception for Zombies. It is a fact that they do not floss so I give them a pass on the whole dental thing.

Brains! Sonicare! Brains! This is so hard!!

Brains! Sonicare! Brains! This is so hard!!

None the less, I sit squarely in the shallowness of simply not liking to look at non-Zombie rotting bridgework.

And, remember kids, in the words of the prophet, Dr. Seuss:

“Don’t gobble junk like Billy Billings, they say his teeth have fifty fillings.”

Yes, Another Annoying Best of 2012 List

Yes, Another Annoying Best of 2012 List

imageI know there are easily a gazillion best-of lists out there so I totally forgive you if you are getting to the point where you can’t take one more. But, as you know, your comfort has never been my paramount concern so…..and, I’m just a huge, lazy ass.

One of my favorite things from 2012 was the realization that there are a million exceptionally non-famous funny people in the world. Many of these lunatics are just as funny as the most famous comedians out there. It’s really the number one thing that keeps me somewhat hopeful for our species.

So, without further ado, I present some things that made me happy this year.

Noo Yorque Times Top 5 Left of Plumb Posts (because I am learning about shameless self-promotion)

Hobo With An Attitude

Scenes From a Coffice

Dear God; RE: Anne Hathaway

I Was Plucked By The Original Jersey Girl

Glitterati In The Mist

My Favorite Pop Culture Travesties

50 Shades of Gray – The revelation that middle-aged women are horny nymphomaniacs changed the way I look at all middle-aged women.

Magic Mike – See above entry….forgive the pun.

Liz and Dick – In the ongoing train wreck that is La Lohan, we got to watch her barreling toward the brick wall for a full 2 hours.

Hulk Hogan – Ish. I never did get around to doing a post about this one….I think I’m still throwing up in my mouth when I think of it.

Hunger Games – Hatefully addictive. My personal skeleton in my closet of shame.

My Online Humor Discoveries

KidFreeLiving – Amy VanSant is so freakin’ funny it completely pisses me off!

TheBloggess – Has anyone on the planet NOT read and fallen in love with Jenny Lawson? She is the sassy matriarch of blogging!

Bad Lip Reading – I weep uncontrollably with laughter at every one of these and check the site like a rabid stalker to see what new videos they have posted.

Twitter, in general

I really really really really hate to admit this but have been exceptionally entertained by Twitter. Before this year, I looked upon it with scorn and malice as a place for whiney, needy people to talk about the consistency of their morning constitutions. I now see that, if you follow the right people, it is HILARIOUS.

My Favorite Tweeters (though the list could be pages long….)

God @tweetofgod

Amy Vansant ‏‪@KidFreeLiving‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

Jim Gaffigan ‏‪@JimGaffigan‬

Kevin Seccia ‏‪@kevinseccia‬

Dave Hill ‏‪@mrdavehill

Best Political Tweets

What a sad day for legitimate and illegitimate rapists. ~Matt Roller ‏‪@rolldiggity‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

If you have never had the misfortune to be raped, fight the urge to put on a suit and talk expansively about its’ meaning. ~Uncle Dynamite ‏‪@UncleDynamite‬‬‬‬‬‬

Enjoy your gay marryjuana, Seattle! ~God @tweetofgod

IT IS NO LONGER A PROJECTION. IT IS OFFICIAL: I’m kind of a fan of Sea Breeze cocktails! ~Ted Travelstead ‏‪@trumpetcake‬

Has Michelle won First Lady yet? ‘Cause if SHE loses…. Awkward. ~ Dana Gould @DanaJGould

Why is the same show on EVERY CHANNEL? ~ Mike Birbiglia ‏‪@birbigs‬

THE RESULTS ARE IN IN OHIO: my step-cousin Jaden is OFFICIALLY the new day-shift manager of the Hardee’s on Coleman Road. ~ Ted Travelstead ‏‪@trumpetcake‬

Sleep tight, America, and know that – no matter who you voted for – tomorrow we will wake up united in our hatred of wobbly tables. ~ The Bloggess @thebloggess

There are more of these, that I love, here: My Election Hangover

Tweets That Made Me Wet Myself

Who wants to see my wiener? Shit. How do I delete on this thing? ~ Dave Hill ‏‪@mrdavehill‬‬

Jedediah leaned upon his rake and said to Isaac, “Thy wife makes a goodly pie.” “I thank thee,” said Isaac. “Most humbly.” ‪#AmishErotica‬‬‬‬‬‬‬ ~ Uncle Dynamite ‏‪@UncleDynamite‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

I just tripped, fell and then farted while walking up an escalator and now I have the ability to move objects with my mind. ~ Jerm Himselfish ‏‪@JermHimselfish‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

If I had a dollar for every time my dad questioned my sexuality I could afford a bad ass Harley and probably some super cute riding boots. ~ Jeffrey Hadz ‏‪@Hadzilla‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

The thesaurus on Microsoft Word is not very… how do I put this… “good” ~ B.J. Novak ‏‪@bjnovak‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

Are humans the only mammals that blow each other? I’m asking for a friend. ~Dana Gould ‏‪@DanaJGould‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

HOLY SHIT. Is there a sign on my office door that says ‘C’mon in and fart the place up?’ ~Evan ‏‪@evanrhorne‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

Whenever someone invites me to go golfing I always think, “Wow, this person knows absolutely nothing about me.” ~Jim Gaffigan ‏‪@JimGaffigan‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

The downside of having a bad memory is occasionally forgetting and then remembering the existence of Mr. Holland’s Opus. ~Kevin Seccia ‏‪@kevinseccia‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

“Maybe we can sell more clams if we put them in a liquid that looks like vomit?” – Inventor of clam chowder. ~Jim Gaffigan ‏‪@JimGaffigan‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

Realized I was still chewing a piece of bacon as I sat on the toilet, hence discovering the elusive EIGHTH Habit of Highly Effective People. ~Amy Vansant ‏‪@KidFreeLiving‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

Got my wig caught in my braces again. ~Ted Travelstead ‏‪@trumpetcake‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

If I’m ever on life support unplug me,, and then plug me back in again,, and see if that works… ~Gordon McCleary ‏‪@ASouthernYankee‬‬‬‬‬‬

Our son HATES the rectal thermometer. Ugh, teenagers! ~rob delaney ‏‪@robdelaney‬‬‬‬‬

The worst part about being omniscient is that I can never not know what Newt Gingrich looks like naked. ~God ‏‪@TheTweetOfGod‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

In closing, if I can continue to find even more to laugh about in 2013, I think I just may survive! And, here are some pictures to leave you with that just simply made me smile cuz’ they are kinda weird.

dancing sheep

Look at me! I’m one sassy ewe, girlfriend!

You do know I'll kill you in your sleep for doing this to me....right after I eat these Cheetos.

You do know I’ll kill you in your sleep….right after I eat these here Cheetos.

I’ve gotta feeling…..that tonight’s gonna be a good night…..

 

New Year’s Resolutions In Review – Epic Fail

New Year’s Resolutions In Review – Epic Fail

Yeah, I know, little baby new year. I feel the same way.

I usually hate making unrealistic promises I know I can’t keep just because the calendar happens to turn over to January 1st. I fail to see how predicting my upcoming failures, or “resolutions,” rings in the new year with any renewed optimism.

At this point the chance that I will become a better, more evolved human is about as likely as the whole Rihanna and Chris Brown thing ending well.

To clarify, it’s not that I believe I’m already a better more evolved human and, therefore, already as awesome as it gets. It’s that I’m old and tired and can barely be bothered to pause The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills long enough to get off the couch and go take a dump.

So, here are my predictions for 2013:
*Data is derived from the predictions and outcomes of identical goals for 2012.

I will exercise more. What utter bullshit. I will either join a health club I can’t afford and use it once but pay for a full year because I hate being sold to so will sign whatever you put in front of me to get you to shut the fuck up.

Or, I’ll decide I will run a 10K without even walking regularly to the mailbox, pull a hamstring in the first 10 feet, be laid up for months in bed while eating my boredom and end up on some horrible TLC show called  “Bedridden, Obese and Angry.”

I will scale back on the cursing. Notice how I said “scale back” and not stop? You might as well say “I will no longer use air to breathe”. Believe me, the world is a safer place if I can express myself with profanity.

I will lose 10 lbs. I did not say how many times I would lose 10 lbs. over the year, did I? So, technically, if you add up all the weight I lost this year, I’d be way over that goal. Luckily, we won’t count the number of lbs. I gained as well. I blame it all on the holiday pie and booze I shoveled into my face hole.

I will be more patient. I don’t really know how to measure this one since I am, by nature, one of the least patient people on the planet. So, even when I’m at my best, I am still probably a good 50% more impatient than normal people.

I do tend to be a lot more easy-going when I’m drinking, so let’s just assume I drank more this year and everyone wins.

I will reduce my drinking. Defeated.

So, there you have it. Not a stellar report card.

However, I have come to a conclusion and this is it:  By making a list of how to change myself I miss the most important goal I should be focused on – being true to who I am and loving myself despite…..myself.

My 2013 resolution: I will love, or at least accept myself, warts and all. And, do the same for everyone else.

Happy New Year, other imperfect humans! Keep yourselves weird and we may just come out of all this OK.

Darth Vadar riding a unicycle while playing bagpipes in a kilt. What of it?

Damn You, Mayans!

Damn You, Mayans!

That’s right, laugh you filthy Mayan!

What, with our good friends the Mayans  giving us that heads-up on the end of days and all, I decided I should really hit that bucket list before the rapture!

And, we know the Mayans never get anything wrong, as evidenced by the fact they’ve been around for so long….oh, wait a minute….how did they not see THAT coming?

I highly suspect they are all having a good laugh at the little prediction they left behind for us that they came up with at some Mayan frat party after chewing on some hallucinogenic root.

But, between the Twinkie debacle and the Liz and Dick movie, it does seem a sure thing that we are on the cusp of the rapture.

Some people have decided to flock to some mountain in Serbia, believing they would be safe only there. Evidently, this mountain that I can’t pronounce is called the “Naval of the World”. I suppose that’s better than the “Taint of the World”, which we all know is Trenton.

Others are huddled in their panic rooms or survivalist shelters, waiting to pop their frightened little heads out of their holes like Punxsutawney Phil to see the massive destruction they are now going to have to spend an eternity swiffering up.

The end of days is nigh! We have less than 48 hours to get our end-of-world plan in place. That’s not a whole lot of time so I am thinking I will double up on some stuff to be efficient. See, I am a project manager to the bitter end.

For instance, I will wear an evening gown and diamond tiara while eating bacon for every meal, then wash it all down with Danny DeVito’s weight in Limoncello.

Then I’ll have a bunch of sex with super hot strangers….while wearing a diamond tiara and eating bacon.

See, it’s the simple things in life we must embrace during these terrible times.

So, what’s your plan before you are smited? What would you do if you knew you could get away WITH ANYTHING?? No accountability, people!

Godspeed, and see you on the other side. I’ll be the one smelling of bacon and shame.