kids at halloween

It’s that time of year again.  The time when trick or treaters come door to door begging for candy, and slutty girls go from bar to bar begging for drinks, and whatever else they can get.

That’s right…it’s Halloween!!!

I decided that I would write a blog dedicated to some of the sluttiest and most ridiculous female Halloween costumes I’ve seen, mostly because I love an opportunity to pass judgement on those skinnier than me.

candy cornI must preface this blog post by saying that I am not above judgement myself, as I have been the girl I’m making fun of in this blog.  Albeit it was years ago and I was several dress sizes smaller.

I feel like that history gives me street cred to judge even more…because I’ve been there.  Also, I’m secretly jealous that I no longer have the svelte body to wear these costumes, so maybe I’m bitter.

Who cares?  I will grab a handful of bite-sized Butterfingers and get to writing.

1.  The slutty cop

handcuffsHow many barely dressed police officers have you seen protecting your streets?  Don’t police officers typically have a standard uniform they have to wear?

I’m pretty sure the uniform doesn’t come in a child’s size Medium.

Just a guess… And does this chick expect us to believe her uniform is legit?

Like she’s going to run down an alley to catch a criminal in those 8 inch heels.  Like she’s going to do any sort of running at all…she’s approximately 90 pounds and either has an eating disorder or a meth addiction.

whistleOkay, that’s probably not true, but it’s what gets me through the day.  I like to believe skinny people don’t work at being skinny, but have a disorder.  Let me have this.

I’m also sure that although this chick is rocking the look, I wouldn’t want to see most of our actual ladies in blue wearing this outfit.

Not to say all police women are heavy, but of the ones I’ve seen, I definitely wouldn’t want to witness any of them attempting to wear this get up.

I’m also quite confident if the police officers wore these outfits in prison, there would be a lot more assaults on officers and many more instances of “dropping the soap” in the shower.

2.  The slutty Native American

head dress

Now this is just offensive to the Native Americans.

Didn’t they have a rough enough time with the Europeans coming over, stealing their land, poisoning them, and building casinos on their space?

Must we now make fun of their culture with a slutty costume?

And where exactly is this Native American supposed to be residing?

I’m pretty sure they didn’t live in the tropics where it’s 100 degrees and sunny.  The chick in this costume would probably freeze to death if in her actual habitat, or at least be made fun of by her peers.

I’m also fairly confident Native Americans didn’t load on the eyeliner and red lip gloss, nor did they strike seductive poses while scantily clad.

This chick needs to take a history class and  pay attention this time instead of flirting for her  grade.

3.  The slutty Snow White

biting apple

Really?  Even the purist of Disney characters isn’t off limits?

Isn’t Snow White supposed to be pure as snow, not slutty as a hooker?  I used to watch this movie on VHS when I was a kid.

Yeah, we had VHS.  We were a big deal in the neighborhood.

In all the times I watched that movie I never once had a fear that Snow White’s nipple would pop out of her outfit when she bent over to pick flowers.  Nor do I ever remember staring at her midriff wondering if she used the Ab Roller to get that amazing stomach.

If Snow White was really so scantily clad, I’m sure the 7 Dwarfs would have done more for her than clean up the house and cook her a meal. their names also wouldn’t have been Sleepy and Doc.

They would have been Creepy and…well…you know what rhymes with Doc.

4.  The sexy school girl

A+

Which school did this girl attend?  I’m pretty sure it wasn’t my Lutheran school where the girls couldn’t wear skorts because they were risque.

In what school is an acceptable uniform comprised of a midrift top and skirt that shows your butt cheeks?  Strike that.  What school other than 90210?

These slutty costumes usually have a matching top and skirt, if you can even call it a skirt.

And I don’t know about you, but I’ve never seen a school girl uniform that is complete with a bustier.  Maybe that’s my small town upbringing, but in what universe is this a school girl?

When I was in grade school I was concerned if my classmates knew it was me stinking up the room with farts .  They didn’t.  I also worried if my sack lunch had a pudding cup in it.  It didn’t.

I definitely wasn’t concerned about my butt popping out of my skirt.  And what school girl wears stockings up to her thigh? This costume is creepy on so many levels, but mostly on the pedophile level.

I realize Brittney Spears sang Hit Me Baby One More Time in an outfit similar to this, but if a guy approached an actual school girl wearing this outfit, he would be hit one more time…with a restraining order…

5.  The sexy witch

witches hat

In what cartoon is a witch sexy?  Maybe in the same cartoon where Snow White is a hootchie and school girls wear next to nothing.

Aren’t witches typically mean and ugly with warts on their noses? Granted, I’m pretty sure this chick has warts, they’re just not on her nose.

I thought witches were supposed to be scary.  She isn’t so much scary as slutty, although I would be scared to see the amount of her annual income.

I suspect a free lance massage therapist doesn’t pay what you think it does, and those ads she puts on Craigslist don’t produce the clientele she’s looking for.

Where’s her broomstick?  Don’t all witches fly on broomsticks?  I see nothing resembling a broomstick, although I suspect that’s not the only thing she’s had between her legs.

I could go on and on with these costumes, but I’ve got better things to do…like raid the Halloween candy.

woman+at+gym.jpg

As you may know, I recently wrote a blog post about the note I wanted to write to “that guy” at the gym.  You all know who I’m talking about.  He’s the guy you  desperately move away from in the weight room when he’s grunting away and flexing his pecs.

But to keep things fair (and to convince my trainer Marbi that I’m not a man-hater), I decided to write a note to “that girl” at the gym as well.  You all know who I’m talking about, and since I saw the epitome of “that girl” this morning at the gym, I am filled with thoughts (and gas) and ready to begin.

1.  Lay off the eye make up.

Do you realize you’re at the gym?  Wearing a smoky eye is for your night job, which by the looks of your eyeliner for your “daytime look,” most likely involves a street corner and a pair of stilettos.

It’s not necessary to wear make up to the gym.  It’s not even necessary to brush your hair to go to the gym.

The fact that you have on several layers of make up tells me that you either came straight from the club from the night before, or you have way too much time on your hands (and mascara).

So tone it down when you come to the gym.  This isn’t Broadway and you don’t need the stage makeup (although I’m pretty sure the stage is where you feel most alive…and how you make your rent payment).

running on treadmill2.  Wear longer shorts

Yes, your legs are nice and toned (and shaved, just like “that guy’s” are), but would you mind throwing on a pair of shorts that go down a little further than just over your butt cheeks?

I have no desire to see your kooter when you stretch your hamstrings, nor do I want to wonder who does your waxing job.

I’m not asking you to wear pants to the gym, but at least wear something that goes halfway down your thigh.

3.  Don’t act irritated when people stare at you

Isn’t that what you want?  I just guessed you were looking for attention with your caked on makeup and your kooter shorts.  No?

Well don’t glare at me when I look at you with judging eyes.  You don’t seem to hide your disdain for me when you stare at my protruding belly with judgement, as it’s clear I ate a second helping of hummus last night.

So I will judge you for looking like a hootchie and you will judge me for loving carbs.  It’s a fair trade and we’re even, although I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t blow over with a stiff breeze (or a stiff drink).

4.  Wear an appropriate fitting shirt

Yes, you have great boobs, but I don’t want to see them bouncing around when you work out.  Get a sports bra with some support ASAP.  Or at least get one with an under wire.

And don’t act like it’s a coincidence that you wear a tiny tank top and then just happen to run on the treadmill.  We all know it’s calculated and you love the feel of your tits hitting your chin as you run your 5k.

And yes, I’m looking at you.  Not so much because of how you’re running, but I’m trying to figure out how you are able to lay on your stomach when you sleep, as those things are definitely the largest part of your body, and I’m pretty sure the left one looks like it might explode.

5.  Stop wearing jewelry to the gym

pearlsMust you accessorize to get your sweat on?  I’m lucky if I brush my teeth before going to the gym, and yet you manage to put on earrings, a necklace and the Tiffany’s knock of bracelet you got off eBay.

By the way, congrats for being the highest bidder with your $9.99 bid.  You’re quite the high roller.  Haven’t you noticed that no one else is wearing jewelry at the gym (except for “that guy” who is probably sporting a fake gold chain).

The only jewelry I wear to the gym is my wedding ring, but that’s stuck on my fat finger for life, and it ain’t going anywhere unless my husband wants to buy me a larger diamond.  In that case I will get out the butter and remove it immediately…and then make popcorn.

6.  Stop complaining that you’re fat

scale1.jpgWe all know you aren’t, and you know it too, as evidenced by the fact that you seem mesmerized by your own appearance.  And I definitely don’t want to hear you complain that you are full because you ate a salad and a handful of almonds.

I just knocked back 2 cheeseburgers and fries and yet here I am, briskly walking away on the treadmill at a zero incline.

You don’t hear me complaining about being overweight, and I have to wipe sweat out of the various folds of fat on my body.  So eat a ham sandwich and quit complaining about your weight.

We all know you look fabulous, which might be one of the reasons we hate you so much.  And you’re cute, which just makes it worse.

Okay, I will stop for now, mostly because I’m scared “that girl” at my gym will read this, know I’m talking about her, and then bench press me when I go to the gym next time.  (But the joke’s on her, as I’m even heavier than I look and I’m really retaining water).

So the next time you throw on a dirty t-shirt and your favorite pair of stained sweat pants and head to the gym, make sure you keep a look out for “that girl.”

She will be easy to spot, as she’s usually the one surrounded by doting men, and she’s always close to a mirror.

baseball player on groundI’m a baseball fan and I love it when my team gets to the World Series.  Fortunately, I’m not a Cubs fan, so I actually get to see my team make it to post season.

This year my beloved Cardinals made it to the World Series and I have been glued to each game, rooting them on while stuffing my face with wings and pizza.  That helps them win, right?

So this year I have noticed something a little strange as I watch these games.  Many of the players have ridiculous mustaches.  It’s not specific to one team, as both the Cardinals and Rangers have players sporting the upper lip sweaters.

If one were to turn on the TV and look at these players, he or she would think they were living in 1978 when Tom Selleck was king and the gas crisis had everyone in a tizzy.

mustache-clip-art-220x73.jpgWe have a similar gas crisis at our house after an evening of eating wings, but that crisis is solved with a few candles and a roll of Charmin.

Is this look coming back?  I hope not, because I know a few women who would be happy to embrace this trend and I don’t want to see that. Come to think of it, a cashier at my grocery store already seems to think a mustache is in style.

Maybe she’s a trendsetter.  I don’t know.

But what is with these men and their flavor savors? Although, I wouldn’t mind a more acceptable way of savoring the flavor of guacamole,  Maybe these guys, and the cashier at Shop N’ Save, are on to something.

Here’s a look at a few of them:

Derrek Holland

Derek Holland

Derek Holland

He’s a pitcher for the Texas Rangers, and by the looks of his face in this photo, he is also extremely constipated.

He also appears to be in the yoga position of Warrior 2, and I’m pretty sure he’s sporting yoga pants under his uniform.  But look at that stache.  Or should I call it a “wanna-be-stache?”  It’s just like Flava-Flave’s career…barely there.

This kid looks like he is in junior high, just hit puberty and is desperately trying to prove his manhood with a few face pubes.  I don’t buy it.

If he is trying to make himself look older and more sophisticated, it isn’t working.  I would card this guy for liquor, and then steal his lunch money.

Ron Washington

Ron Washington

Ron Washington

I suppose it’s no surprise that Holland is sporting the lady pleaser when his fearless leader is also sporting the same look.  Let’s hope Holland doesn’t share the same love of nose candy that Washington did.

Does Washington think he looks good like this?  Is he trying to grow hair in the middle of his face to compensate for the lack of hair on the middle of his head?

It looks like the parting of the Red Sea up there and I can’t help but wonder if Fox makes him wear a hat during the games just to keep viewers’ focus on the game and not the rapidly eroding hairline.

Perhaps the mustache is his way of trying to prove he’s capable of growing hair, just not on the top of his head.  He also vaguely resembles Bill Cosby to me and I’m not sure why, but I’m waiting for him to appear in a loud colorful sweater and tell me all about Jell-o pudding pops.  (Mmm..)

elvis

Elvis Andrus
http://tinyurl.com/bvqa6le

Elvis Andrus

And then there’s this guy.  He’s the anti-stache.  He’s managed to grow hair all over his face except the mustache.

Is it some political statement he’s making?    What does he have against the upper lip hair?  Is he trying to counter balance the staches of his fellow team mates?

And who is named Elvis anyway?  I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have blue suede shoes, nor is he a hound dog.  But he does appear to be rocking the Blue Blocker shades so at least his eyes are protected…most likely from the glare off of Washington’s head.

Jason motte

Jason Motte
http://tinyurl.com/crcrvl

Jason Motte

Then there’s Jason Motte.  What to say about this guy?  He doesn’t just have a mustache, but rather a large bush of hair on his face that I’m pretty sure smells like urinal cakes from all the swirlies he gets in the locker room.

In this photo he looks like a male blow up doll, or like he’s ready to earn his salary as a fluffer on a porno…in 1975.

So enjoy the rest of the series and as you’re downing your beers and stuffing that third hot dog in your mouth (maybe that’s just me), take a moment and be thankful that you aren’t married to a guy with a stache.

And if you are, check out the billboards on the way home for a good divorce attorney, as I think you’ve got enough grounds to start that process.

STACHE BASH

 

guy+at+gym.jpg

I’ve only recently started going to the gym, as I prefer to live in denial that I am overweight (and that Sex and The City keeps making movies).  Whenever I go to the gym I see all different kinds of people.  From the pudgy (myself), to the super fit (my trainer), it seems that all walks of life go to my gym.  It’s like a music video for “We are the world.”

But I’ve noticed there are several men that fit the mold of the stereotypical meat head at the gym.  I like to refer to this stereotypical gym-goer as “that guy.”  You all know who I’m talking about.  “That guy” always annoys me so I decided to write him some notes and give him a few pointers.

Here it goes:

1. You don’t need to shave every part of your body.

Newsflash:  Men typically have hair on their bodies.  It’s a scientific fact and although I don’t particularly like to see a man’s calf covered in hair, it’s the way it’s supposed to be.  Hair and a man’s leg go together like peanut butter and jelly or me with any sort of Mexican food.

There’s no reason for a man to be devoid of hair.  If you shave more parts of your body than I do, you’re definitely “that guy.”

I realize this may not be a big hurdle to overcome, but still, if you use a lady razor to shave your legs, you better be a girl, or preparing for surgery.  Otherwise, keep the hair on your body (except for the back hair.  That can go).

However, if you can suggest a razor that gets around the ankles without nicking, email me privately.

2.  Spraying yourself down with Axe isn’t the same thing as a shower.

I realize those Axe commercials suggest that any awkward male with difficulty talking to females can remedy that situation with a few sprays of cologne, but it doesn’t suggest pouring it all over yourself like a bucket of Gatorade after a football victory.

Less is more.  Except when it comes to chocolate or jewelry, or any episode of Mad About You.  Then more is always more…and better.

Women typically aren’t impressed that you spend $10.99 on your “signature scent” when you can’t seem to pay a few dollars a month for a good dental plan and a bottle of Scope.

Get yourself together, buy a 3 pack of Irish Spring and hit the showers.

3.  Those sleeveless shirts that are open under the arms are not attractive.

man+in+tank+top.jpgThose shirts have an age limit, which is 10.  If you have graduated from middle school and are rocking the cut up t-shirt with extra large arm holes, you are a douche.  And the creepiness factor is multiplied by the fact that you have no hair on your pits (see #1).

So give the cut up shirt back to your 5th grade brother and start dressing like a grown man and do what everyone else at the gym does:  wear t-shirts from college in an attempt to relive your glory days.  Then go bong a beer….and NOT Michelob Ultra.

That’s just too stereotypical.  And don’t even think of trading the armless shirts for wife beaters.  We all know you don’t have a wife, because if you did, she would never let your nose hair get that long.

4.   Stop staring at yourself in the mirror.  It’s creepy.

Wait until you get home to make googly eyes at yourself.  We all know you’re going to go back to your smelly one bedroom apartment and make sweet love to yourself to the soundtrack from Rocky, but please don’t give us a preview at the gym. (Although listening to the soundtrack from Rocky IV is completely acceptable.)

I don’t want to imagine you and your smooth legs laying on your Superman sheets going to town.  Lock that up and keep it to yourself.

5.  No one looks good in a weight belt.

man+in+mirror.jpgAlthough you like to parade around the gym sporting the tan weight belt because you think it makes your abs pop, just know that you look like a washing machine delivery guy.

No one looks good in a weight belt because all weight belts are most likely covered in years of sweat from washed up athletes hoping to try out for arena football (and then promptly get cut).

And the weight belt over your XL sweat pants makes it look like you’re strapping yourself into a safety harness for an afternoon of window washing.

Although I’m sure you can scrub a mirror without leaving streaks (how else would you be able to swoon over yourself at home?),  no one wants to see you rocking the weight belt.

And watching you struggle to buckle the double buckle is just embarrassing and awkward for everyone.

6.  No one believes you’re drinking a protein shake.

Although we enjoy watching you pound a half gallon of liquid at a time, we all know it’s not a protein shake, but rather chocolate milk your mommy made for you before she drove you to the gym.  The jig is up.

So you can stop slamming TruMoo and stop pretending you’re lactose intolerant.  We are on to you, and honestly, we just don’t care;  after all, milk does a body good, although your body probably needs to lay off the spray tan.  No one is that orange (except for Lindsay Lohan).

Hopefully this note will get to “that guy” everywhere and I can single-handedly reduce the population of this species of men that seem to be invading gyms everywhere.  If this plot is successful, you can thank me with monetary donations or anything from Chipotle.

If it isn’t successful, that’s okay, because these annoying characteristics help everyone to identify who to avoid when walking to the parking garage alone.

DUMMIE'SI’m sure it comes as no surprise to any of you that I love to eat.  If it does come as a surprise, you’ve obviously never met me, or seen me make sweet love to an all you can eat buffet.

I talk about eating and food the way new parents talk about their babies, although I’m pretty sure new parents don’t dream of smothering their babies in butter and hot sauce.

If they do, they should be reported immediately.

I’ve been at a loss about what to write about for a blog post, as nothing exciting has happened to me over the last few days.  I know, I know.  I can’t believe it either.

Usually I at least say something embarrassing or spill something on someone, but this week has been slow.

So decided to write about what I know best, aside from farts.  Eating and gaining weight.

I’m really a pro at both of these things and if it were a career, I would be the Albert Pujols of the profession, although I don’t pronounce the word “man” as “mang”.  So here it is, my guide to gaining weight.

A Gaining Weight for Dummies of sorts.

1.  Cover everything you eat in melted cheese

cheese.png

Seriously, this will change your life.

I never knew vegetables could be so delicious, but smothered in cheddar, they aren’t too bad.

The Mexicans are onto something with their love of melted cheese on all dinner items, and would you disagree with the country that brought you fried ice cream?  It’s frozen, yet fried at the same time!!!!!  Mind boggling!

So embrace the culture, step up to the microwave and start melting away.  (Mariachi band music is optional).

2. Always get seconds, and thirds

dirty plateThis seems like it would be a no-brainer, but it’s worth mentioning.

I always plan on getting seconds and will actually put less on my plate so I can go up for seconds.

Okay, I really don’t put less on my plate, but I tell people I do so they won’t judge me when I leap from the chair and head to the kitchen for a second helping.

Getting seconds also shows respect to the chef, who would definitely be offended if you didn’t get seconds.

I mean, if you’re at my house and don’t get seconds of my special meal of cut up hot dogs and macaroni and cheese, I will personally be offended.

And everything is better with cheese.  See number 1…which will frequently lead to you having to go number 2.

3.  Pre-eat before a meal

eat+on+beach.jpgIt’s like pre-gaming, only you get drunk on carbs instead of alcohol.  This is best done alone, so no one knows you pre-ate and you can deny it later.

This way you can come to dinner and say you’re starving, and no one will know that you secretly ate a box of Fruit Roll Ups before coming to the dinner table.

**Author’s note:  If you pre-eat (and why wouldn’t you?), make sure to remove all evidence of pre-eating.  (Dispose of wrappers, bribe the fast food workers not to tell, etc.) 

Also, try to stick to things that don’t spill or make a mess.  Coming to the table with a chocolate milk stain on your shirt and cookie crumbs on your face doesn’t bode well for your allegations of hunger. 

It may also keep you from getting seconds, which would be a travesty.**

4.  Don’t limit yourself to three meals a day.

dinners.jpg

Take eating seriously and remember that practice makes perfect.  Do you think Tiger Woods got to where he was by only putting a few hours a day?  No.

He spent hours a day practicing his drive, and then “drove it home” to several slut bags in the wee hours of the morning.

I’m not suggesting you engage in extramarital affairs with women whose faces could sand down a deck but, you should treat eating like the serious job it is and take it seriously.

Then you can follow in Tiger’s Nike swooshed footsteps and claim your eating is an addiction so no one will judge you.  Get serious!

To quote Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch; “If you ain’t in it to win it then get the hell out.”

5.  Eat late at night

late.jpg

Do you know what makes a double cheeseburger from McDonald’s taste even better?  Eating it while watching late night reruns of The Nanny.

If you aren’t into Fran Drescher’s screeching voice, anything on Nick at Nite will do.

So grab a bag of chips (not the baked kind…those are for amateurs) and stuff your face with carbs and cheese all night long.

Then promptly call in sick to work in the morning.

6.  Follow up everything you eat with a dessert

ice+cream.jpg

You don’t want to leave your palette tasting like Frosted Lucky Charms after breakfast. Or maybe you do.  They are magically delicious.

Make sure to follow up all meals and snacks with a dessert.

I recommend Hostess 100 calorie snack packs, but don’t eat just one.  (See rule number 2).

7.  Don’t be afraid to fry everything

frying+pan.jpg

When gaining weight, fried food is definitely your friend.

Charmin Extra Soft will also be your friend as well if you eat enough fried items.  These two usually go hand in hand…literally.

I recently attended a party where we fried everything, and I can assure you that although spinach is fairly tasteless by itself, when fried and smothered in Parmesan cheese, it’s quite tasty.

What did I tell you?  Everything is better with cheese.

And don’t get me started on fried ice cream and fried bananas….perfection!  So get out that deep fryer and a bottle of Pepto Bismol and start frying away!

Okay, that’s all I will give you for now.  This should be enough to get your blood pressure spiked and your buttons popping off your jeans.  Rest assured I have plenty more suggestions to expand that waistline and ensure you never see the tops of your feet again.

guy with video cameraTo make my blogs appealing (and readable), I add pictures to each post.  Partially to break it up, and partially because I know some of you only like stories with pictures and hey, I’m a people pleaser.

I get most of my photos from copyright free sites, but sometimes the results are quite strange.

For instance, the other night I typed in “attractive” into Google Images.  It might not necessarily have been a search for my blog…

A picture of a hideous red-headed boy in a seductive pose was one of the results.

This got me thinking.  What if I randomly type a word into Google Image, see what image comes up, and then blog about it?  I shall call it Google Image Roulette. Here it goes.

I wasn’t sure what word to use for my first time with this idea, so I decided to go with something basic.

I typed in the word “man” and this is the first photo that came up in the results.

I’m not kidding.  This is really what showed up.

one-man-band-706928.jpg

How is this a picture of a man? A creepy photo shopped picture of a guy who has never had intercourse with a woman? Yes.  A photo of a man?  No.

This photo will haunt my nightmares. After seeing this I won’t ever be able to listen to an inspirational guitar solo from Slash without stifling vomit.  This is a tragedy, as he really rocks it out in “November Rain”.

I suspected I would get a photo of a creepy guy doing a strange pose, not a naked man with a guitar coming out of his ass.

boy in dormAnd where is this “man?”  I’m hoping he’s in a college dorm room because that’s the only place those particle board shelves are acceptable

Is that a small tree on the table next to the TV?  Is it a Christmas tree?  At least we know this “man” is festive.

And can we address the elephant in the room?  Or rather, the lack of elephant?

Where is his wiener?  (Hee hee.  Wiener).

Seriously.  If this is a man, I don’t see the very essence of what makes him male.  Not that I’m looking for that.  After all, I saw the photo on line of Daniel Radcliff naked with a horse and it still haunts me.

I don’t want to see this guy’s junk, but it’s noticeably lacking.  If he didn’t want to show it for the picture, couldn’t he wear shorts?  His woman maidof display makes me think of that scene in Silence of the Lambs.

You know what I’m talking about.  Now go vomit because that scene was disgusting.

Would it have been too much to ask for this guy to vacuum before taking a photo?  I’m not sure if those are bugs on the floor or old gum. Either way, homeboy should run a Roomba before posting a picture to the internet.

Is that a crutch laying on the bed?!  I’m pretty sure it is.  The fact that this guy has crutches blows my mind, as this “man” has no legs.

The fact that he only has ONE crutch laying on the bed just shows he has no logic or attention to detail (or a full set of crutches).

I would normally tell him to “sack up” and pay closer attention to the background, but as we discussed previously, his “sack” is noticeably missing, which makes the white stain on the side of the comforter that much more confusing.

bottlesCouldn’t he invest in a dust ruffle?  He’s clearly made of money as he purchased that sweet keyboard, so why not throw another $10 at Walmart for a dust ruffle to hide the dirty carpet?

This guy has no class (or legs).

I’m also curious as to what mystery drink is contained in the green plastic cup sitting near the TV circa 1982.  Normally I would say it’s  Kool Aid, as this guy looks like someone who would have a sugar addiction (and a serious porn addiction as well).

I’m hoping it’s filled with liquor.  Pure liquor.  That’s the only way I can tell myself this event took place.

Okay, I will now drench my eyes in bleach, as it is the only way to remove this creepy photo from my memory.  I can’t believe this was the FIRST photo that came up when I typed in the word “man.”

It makes me wonder what goes on over there at Google Image, although clearly those guys can take a joke, which makes me love Google all the more.

Stand by for more Google Image Roulette.  Please feel free to suggest a word to use, although I’d like to keep the words clean, as I don’t want to contract an internet virus while obtaining material for my blog.

I’m a sucker for computer hygiene.

old couple in old carI like to think of myself as young.  I mean, I can rock out to rap music and I watch “The MTV.”  I also know my way around the Internets and I know text lingo (lol, ttyl).

I’m a pretty young and hip chick, although the fact that I refer to myself as a “hip chick” might actually disqualify me from being either one of those things.

Although I’m forever young in my mind, I’ve recently realized maybe I’m not as young as I think I am.

Don’t get me wrong, I still laugh when someone farts (especially when I do it), and I giggle every time someone references any sort of genitalia, but there are some things that make me just seem old.

I hope I look better than this lady does when I'm old.  I also hope I have a drink in my hand.

I hope I look better than this lady does when I’m old. I also hope I have a drink in my hand.

Some of the things I’m okay with, and others I’m not.

I have a feeling I could make a very long list, and perhaps I will make it a recurring theme on my blog to break up the stories of how I’ve injured myself, or how my dogs have destroyed something in my house.

But for now, I’ve come up with five things that have made me realize I’m getting old.

Either way, grab your Werther’s Originals and your knitted afghan and read along about how I’m slowly deteriorating into old age.

I hope you can read this over the horrid smell of BenGay emanating from my sore muscles.  Mall walking is no easy task.

1.  Music in restaurants and rock concerts is really loud

girl covering earsI’m not sure when this discovery happened, but all I know is that it’s true.

A few months ago I went with my husband to see an indie band.  You know, cause I’m hip and stuff.

The concert was in a smaller venue and the music was so loud that it immediately pissed me off and I wanted to punch someone in the face.

I couldn’t understand why they felt the need to play so loudly, and why I was the only one with my hands over my ears begging them to play some Kenny G.

country guy singingI actually stepped outside to get away from the loud music. I also wanted to separate myself from my husband, as his head banging was a little more than embarrassing.

He looked like he was having a seizure and I didn’t want to be there when he inevitably herniated a disk.

I thought maybe this was a one time thing, but it seems wherever I go, I’m annoyed by the sound level of music.

Just this week I was in Chipotle again.  I know, I know, don’t judge.  Their music was so loud I actually considered complaining.  I didn’t because I didn’t want to adversely affect the amount of guacamole I received the next time I came in…which would be 2 days later.

But still, they need to turn that music down.

2.  I would rather stay home and watch the game and drink my beer.  It’s cheaper.

sports fan watching footballThis one was especially painful to realize.  I love going to a sports bar for some wings (and nachos, and toasted ravioli).

I also love watching the game and throwing back a few drinks.

See how hip I am?  I even used some cool language to refer to drinking.

At some point, however, I realized  I would rather stay home in my pajamas and watch the game.  I don’t have to wear a bra there.  It’s also more comfortable and no one judges me when I cuss at the TV, or when I fart during commercials.

My dogs look at me strangely when I do this, but I tell myself they’re not judging me.

soccer players watching tvI also prefer to watch games at home because the drinks are cheaper.  Whether I’m sipping (or pounding) vodka or beer, the alcohol is much cheaper to purchase in bulk at Friar Tuck’s than it is to buy a la carte at the bar.

And the people at Friar Tuck’s don’t expect a tip at the end of the night, even though they’ve screwed up my order and forgotten my side of Ranch (which is unacceptable).

However, I suspect Friar Tuck’s employees are figuring out I’m not having a party every weekend, and the liquor purchases are just for me, not for my many important guests who drink Miller Lite.

It’s so much easier to get up from the couch and make myself another drink.  The fact that I don’t have to wear a bra or make up is just an added bonus.

Pants are also optional.

3.  I wear orthopedic shoes

guy selling shoesThis isn’t so much a realization as a simple fact of life.  A sad, simple fact.  I’m pathetic.  I know.

I Recently discovered I have plantar fasciatis, which is a fancy way of saying I have pain on the bottom of my feet.

Orthopedic shoes, although less than attractive, alleviate the pain, so I think they’re magical.

The problem is they aren’t made by fashionable people.  Actually, I wonder if they’re made by people who are fashionable, but want to punish those of us with this condition.

I probably would do that, so I suppose I can’t blame “them”…whoever “them” are.

Most of my orthopedic shoes are flip flops and you can’t tell they’re special.

My workout shoes are a different beast entirely.  They’re white and hideous and look like they belong on the 55 year old head nurse at the retirement home, or to any male over the age of 60.

Oh, and they’re boat sized.  Seriously.  They’re huge.  My friends tell me they aren’t bad, but I know they’re lying.

Sadly, the orthopedic shoes are out of my control and something I blame on my mother, as this condition is hereditary.  Thanks mom!

4.  Game night with friends is really fun

kids in arcadeGone are the days of getting ready to go out at 10:00 at night.  By that time now I’m usually in bed, or nodding off on the couch to an episode of The Big Bang Theory.

My husband is completely obsessed with this show.  I think he might actually want to be best friends with Sheldon.

I remember when I used to go out with my friends to the bars and stay out until 2:00 or 3:00 in the morning.  Not so much now.  I’ve recently discovered game night and it’s amazing.

Matt and I have started hosting game nights at our house.  I realize this sounds super lame, and it probably is, but we love it and we have a blast.

I prefer all my guests to wear comfortable clothes, but pants are required.  We have ridiculous amounts of food and all sit around playing Catchphrase and Pictionary.

It doesn’t sound like much fun, but I assure you trying to guess “giving birth” when someone draws a picture of a woman with something shooting out of her vagina is pretty stinking funny.

If this makes me old then I don’t care.

5.  I am sometimes offended by lyrics in songs

guy with open mouth

Although I don’t have a problem with old school rappers like TuPac and Dr. Dre, I find myself becoming a bit offended by lyrics in today’s music.

This makes me not only old, but pathetic as well.  I realize this, but I still get irritated by the lyrics.  If the music is loud, then I’m doubly annoyed (See Number 1).

For instance, the song If I Die Young by The Band Perry is especially offensive.

Not just because the song is bad and the singer sounds like she is singing with marbles in her mouth, but because the lyrics seem to be glorifying death at a young age.

The first time I heard this song I thought to myself “Why would they do a song about dying at a young age when all these kids are being bullied and committing suicide?”

I then wept softly to myself because I realized I had become my mother.

But seriously.

And what about the E.T. song by Katy Perry.  Don’t get me wrong, I love me some alien action.  ALF was  my favorite show growing up.

I don’t think Kayne West singing about probing someone is particularly kid friendly or appropriate.  Wow, even typing that makes me realize I’m old.

Should I just sign up for my AARP card now?

I wish I could take these things back and rock out all night to offensive music turned up at a loud volume while wearing regular shoes in a bar.  But instead, I will turn down the volume, listen to some music by The Carpenters and enjoy game night in the privacy of my own home.

I may be getting old, but at least I will be comfortable doing it!

For those of you who know me, or for anyone who follows this blog, you know I’m a complete mess.  From falling on my face to spitting while talking, I’m a walking time bomb that could explode at any minute.

And by “explode” I mean fart.  Seriously.  I’m gassy.

Despite my status as a full on F4 disaster, I like to have my toes and nails perfectly manicured. I’m only an F4 disaster because I still manage to bathe myself most days and I speak somewhat coherently.

Maybe wanting manicured nails is my way of trying to have some tidiness and order in my otherwise chaotic life, or maybe it’s just because I love the hand massage they give during the manicure.

Whatever the reason, I look forward to a mani/pedi every few weeks.  And if my husband asks, I only get them every 2 months.

This Sunday I decided to skip the gym and get a mani/pedi instead.  I figured this was a good move considering I would be attending a baseball-watch party later where I would eat large amounts of buffalo chicken dip, and I didn’t want to screw that up with a morning workout.  That just wouldn’t make sense.

My friends (both of them) had plans so I was forced to go to the nail salon by myself for my pampering.  Well, me and my Starbucks drink, and my Us Weekly, and my iPad.  I didn’t want to be bored during my relaxation time.

I arrived at my favorite nail salon and they weren’t busy.  I assumed it was because it was a Sunday morning and most people were at church worshiping something other than the massage chairs at the salon.

I am completely in love with those chairs and have considered leaving my husband for them.  They would always make me happy and wouldn’t scold me for leaving my wet towels on the floor.  At least that’s how it goes in my fantasy.

The woman at the front desk asked what services I wanted and I told her I wanted a pedicure.  She said that was fine and then looked down at my hands.

Her reaction to my Cheetos stained fingers complete with chipped nail polish and a pesky hangnail was less than desirable.

Are you sure you don’t want a manicure too?” She asked, with disapproval in her eyes.

Flustered by her rudeness and her “Hello Kitty t-shirt  clearly purchased in the girls’ department, I said I wasn’t sure if I had time for a manicure since I had to be at book club in less than an hour.

I wanted to throw in the fact that I was in a book club as a way to prove I wasn’t a complete drain on society.  She didn’t need to know that I didn’t read the book.

She encouraged me to make time for the manicure because I really needed it.

Um, I knew I needed a manicure, but to be blatantly told I needed one was a little off putting.  It was like telling a fat person to lose weight, or telling Conan O’Brien to be funny.

Sometimes you just need to think things and not say them out loud.

pedicuresI walked over to the pedicure chair and attempted to climb into it.  Since I’m not capable of doing anything without making a scene, I stumbled into the chair and my 85 pound nail technician had to come over and help me up.

I was fearful that putting the weight of my arm on her would crush her minuscule frame, but she was more durable than she appeared.  I sat down in the chair and turned on the massage function and prepared to escape into happiness, or at least a solid snooze.

getting maniMy nail technician’s tag said her name was Ann, but I suspected it wasn’t anything close to that.  I also suspected she wouldn’t answer to the name “Ann” and I made a mental note to test that theory later in the pedicure.

“Ann” looked at my toes and asked if I wanted to have my toenails trimmed.  Really?  What a dumb question.  Not as dumb as “Would you like another piece of cake?” but it was in that same category.

Of course I wanted my nails trimmed.  Wasn’t that part of the package of getting a pedicure?

Before I had a chance to answer her, she told me that my toenails were long and needed to be trimmed.  What?!  Again, I knew this was true, but telling this to me somehow just seemed mean and judgmental.
I agreed they were long and apologized for being such a pain, and for making her do her job…which was to cut toenails.

She proceeded with the pedicure and she made good time.  When she was done she took one look at my fingernails and told me to go sit in the chair by the door and she would be right over.  Um, okay.

What did she want with me?  Was this where I was going to pay?

I wanted to test out my theory about whether she would respond to “Ann” so I said her name out loud.  She turned around and looked at me, but I wasn’t sure if she was responding to my contemplating ways to torture me.  It was probably a little of both.

I asked her why I was going over to the chair by the door and she responded that I was getting a manicure.  Well, I had no idea that Ann was such a bossy pants, but apparently she was.  I picked up all my things, which looked like a carry on bag with all the items inside, and went over to Ann’s station.  She came over quite quickly and began working on my fingernails.

Two of her coworkers were sitting next to her eating Tootsie Pops, and the three of them began talking in a language other than English.  Although I took one French class, I knew enough to know the language they were speaking wasn’t French, or anything from the European country.

I arbitrarily decided they were either speaking Korean or Pig Latin, but I couldn’t crack the code any further.  Either way, I was confident they were talking about me.

This was bolstered by the fact that one of the women looked at me and laughed, and then started talking to the others while staring me down.

I’d like to think they were complimenting my shirt, or the fact that I was wearing matching earrings, but I was pretty sure they were making fun of me.

Being ridiculed in a different language isn’t nearly as much fun as it sounds, and I became a bit irritated that I was clearly their topic of conversation.

Ann sensed my irritability so she decided to say something offensive.  She turned back to me once again said “Your toenails were really bad.  You need to come in more.”

Okay lady, the way to my heart, and my wallet for a tip, wasn’t to make fun of my toenails.  But then she took it one step further.  She said “Do you do a lot of gardening?  Your toenails were dirty.”

at nail placeWHAT?!  Do I look like Farmer Joe?  No, I don’t do gardening.  And more importantly, my toenails weren’t dirty.  What was this lady doing?

At first I was offended, but then I was somewhat relieved when I realized her bad attitude would result in more money in my pocket since her tip was rapidly decreasing.

She finished my manicure but the second it was over she darted to the back room, probably to smoke a cigarette or purge the 5 calories she ingested that day.

I waited for my nails to dry and when I thought they were ready, I reached in my purse for my keys.  Big mistake.  I smudged two of my fingers.

I thought about yelling “Man down!’ as loud as I could but I was pretty sure they wouldn’t get the joke.

My purse was on the ground which means I had to bend from the chair to get into it.

The chair was on wheels. I’m not sure why it was on wheels, as there was nowhere to go inside the salon that requires chairs on wheels.

rainbow suckerWhen I leaned over, the chair tipped and I nearly bit it on the floor.  Fortunately, I caught myself and quickly looked up to see if anyone saw my near fall.  Everyone saw it.

Apparently I wasn’t as smooth as I thought I was (and neither were my legs, as the technician reminded me when she gave me a calf massage).

I looked over to the two technicians sucking away on their third Tootsie Pop, and told them I smudged my nails.

One of them huffed and sighed and came over to Ann’s station and repaired my nails.

She did so in a very quick manner, which was probably a result of all the sugar she ingested with those Tootsie Pops.

I wanted to ask them where they got them, but I was pretty sure they were already pretty sick of me so I didn’t push it.

I sat there with my nails in front of the fan for a while waiting for them to dry.  Then one of the Tootsie Pop Twins came over and said “Do you want to leave?”

fat kid in diaper wavingOf course I did, but the question was more of a somewhat nice way of saying “You need to leave.”

I responded that I wanted to leave but I thought my nails were still wet.  She then got into Ann’s drawer and pulled out a liquid and put it on my nails.

She told me to feel my nails and I noticed they were instantly dry.  She told me I could leave since my nails were dry.  WHAT?!

The entire time they had a substance that could dry my nails immediately and they made me sit and torture myself in front of the fan?

Why didn’t they just put this on my nails and let me go?  Probably so they could sit and make fun of my disheveled hair and mismatched outfit.

I got up to leave and as I did, the Tootsie Pop Twins kept repeating “careful” to me over and over.  I’m not sure if they were talking about me being careful not to fall, or careful not to smudge my nails, but I didn’t care.

Their words of caution were clearly disingenuous and I was pretty sure they were both hoping I fell on the way out.

I miraculously managed to reach my car without chipping the polish and I headed to book club in silence.  I couldn’t figure out why those women were so mean to me, and why they felt it appropriate to comment on my nails.

I also realized that despite the fact they were a bit rude and judgmental, my nails looked amazing and I knew I would go back for more.  I felt like a battered wife that keeps going back for more abuse.  Only this time the abuse isn’t a physical beating, but verbal comments about long toenails and poor hygiene.  I would take it as long as my nails looked good!

antenaeI’m a fan of most reality TV programs…and anything Heidi Klum does.  I’m embarrassed to admit that the dumber the show, the more I  enjoy it.

There is one reality show that I especially love, and not just because of its catchy jingle in the opening credits.  I am addicted to So You Think You Can Dance.

I record every episode so I can watch the routines again and give them my own critiques. Instead of the “hot tamale train” that Mary Murphy puts the contestants on, I have a few other trains which include the “future stripper train” and the “home girl needs a new grill train.”

I know, I’m a real talent scout.

So when our friends C-squad and Kvothe (not their real names) asked if we wanted to see the top 10 dancers from this season on tour, my husband and I did our best kick ball change to show that we were in.

Mr. and Mrs. C-squad said we would grab dinner before the show, which we were completely on board with. Theyknew t he way to my heart; with food and the promise of only observing physical activity.

Engaging in physical activity for enjoyment is just ludicrous.

restaurant place settingWe met our friends at a restaurant near the theater. Our waiter appeared to be normal and he took our orders for appetizers and drinks.

Yeah, we ordered appetizers. What’s the point of going to dinner if you can’t have appetizers? That would be like going to a movie without popcorn, or a family function without liquor.

The waiter then returned to our table a few minutes later looking dazed and confused (but he was no young Matthew McConaughey).

He looked at us blankly and asked what we ordered. He said he was an MMA fighter and fought last night and “got clocked pretty hard in the head.”

Immediately, I asked if he knew his name or where he was.  I also asked him if he remembered his promise of free drinks and appetizers, but he didn’t buy my sham (or my drinks).

Miraculously, he got our orders right, stumbling over his feet. The four of us contemplated ways to mess with him.

How many times do you get a waiter with a concussion? This was an event to be celebrated (and exploited).

confusedAfter he cleared our plates, we decided to look at him honestly and say we were ready to order. We knew we’d be condemned for eternity for this, but since my hubby and I shacked up before we were married, we already knew our fiery fate.

When the waiter returned to our table he looked like I do anytime someone discusses physics.  We looked at his glassy eyes and decided we just couldn’t do it. Who knew we had hearts?

We told him what we planned to do and reminded him we didn’t follow through. He wasn’t nearly as grateful as he should have been, but his inability to think and grasp concepts was still inhibited.

We asked him to split the bill evenly down the middle, but he charged one of the couples 20% of the bill and the other 80%.

waiter1Since I was in the couple with a charge of 80% of the bill, I was less than thrilled with the mistake. It was remedied with no bloodshed.

With full bellies and lighter wallets, we headed to the show.

We walked into the theater and were surrounded by girls of all ages.  From toddlers to teens, screaming girls were everywhere. It reminded me I needed to refill my birth control.

As adults with jobs, we were out of place; not only because of age, but because our midriffs weren’t showing.  We also weren’t wearing large amounts of sparkle make up.  Well, C-squad was sporting a little sparkle, but it made his eyes pop.

We passed several girls I knew would be knocked up before they could drive (or before they left the show).

We found our seats which had a perfect view of the stage…except for the women in front of me, who were both annoying, and trashy.

Their crow’s feet told me they were older than they wanted to appear, and although these women were in their 30s, all their clothes came from Deb.  (You all know what trashy store in the mall I’m talking about.)

woman reading bookMy seat was next to a seven-year-old girl.  Her mother bought her a program with the dancer’s  information and photos. 

I tried to read it over her shoulder, but she was a slow reader and I found myself annoyed.  Her mother’s death stares and threats of child endangerment complaints didn’t help matters.

The show began after only seeing three pages of the program. I was glad I didn’t spend the $15 to buy one.  That money could be better spend on liquor.

The dancers did a great job, although a few of them were a bit slutty.  One of them in particular will most likely be riding the pole in a few years.

By the end of the show I had enough of her crotch shots, although I’m sure our husbands wanted an encore.

latin danceFor some reason, before we saw the show live, I worried it would take some of the magic out of watching it on TV.  Surprisingly, it had the opposite effect.

I found myself even more impressed with the talent of the dancers and their stamina to perform so many energetic numbers.

I would have needed an inhaler after the third dance, and I don’t even have asthma.

I will definitely watch next season.  I also know this is the only reality show I would see live.

Watching any of The Real Housewives programs live would probably result in someone getting punched in the face, and someone else contracting herpes.

girl laughing in jeansI recently started going to the gym.  I grew tired of the buttons on my jeans digging piercing my stomach and feared if I didn’t do something, there would be a permanent indentation reading “Levi’s” on my fat gut.

I didn’t want to be a walking advertisement for denim or  Totino’s Party Pizzas, I knew I had to do something.

So, I joined a gym and started doing zumba classes, which is an experience all in itself.  Today I did two hours of zumba in an attempt to work off the enormous amount of calories I ingested the night before at Hardee’s (and to drown my sorrows and shame in large amounts of sweat).

I finished the two-hour work out (I know, I know, I’m a machine….) and headed to my car so I could go home and pass out.  Instead of walking onto a parking lot filled with cars, I found a parking lot filled with tables, chairs and a sound system that was booming.  What was going on?

In an effort to investigate, I walked over to a friendly face I knew; Marbi. Okay, maybe it wasn’t super friendly, but it was familiar.

mom and daughter and flowersIt was strange to see him out of his element.  Usually when I see him, he’s forcing me to do squats and bench press large amounts of weight.

I wondered if he felt out of place being in a normal environment where a pull up bar wasn’t readily available.

I thought about asking him, but figured it might make him mad and I didn’t want him to take it out on me at our next session.

Marbi said the party was for “Customer Appreciation Day.”  What?  Wasn’t every day customer appreciation day?

With the $300 we spent each month for membership and personal training, the gym better appreciate me every day…or at least every month when that hefty chunk of money disappears from our account.

I decided if they wanted to appreciate me, I was going to let them.  I waited for a masseuse, a personal shopper and a reggae band to arrive.  Don’t judge.  I like Jamaican music…it sounds like the ocean.

girl getting massageMuch to my chagrin, instead of a spa experience, or even a few scented candles, they hauled in beer and wine.

Okay, so maybe they knew me well enough to know the best way to “appreciate me” is to load me up with liquor.  Well played gym, well played.  The fact that it was 11:00 a.m. had no bearing on my excitement for the free drinks.

As I headed over to snag a beer (Lite, of course), I saw other tables setting up for food.  WHAT?!  At first I got excited until I realized I was at a party sponsored by a gym.  I could only imagine what kind of “food” they would have.

I envisioned carrots, broccoli and quinoa served over a bed of lettuce with a side of vomit.  Oh wait, vomit comes after eating that junk.

This was probably the first time in history I wasn’t happy about free food.

And then I saw it…pizza boxes.  Were they fruit pizzas?  Or maybe the boxes housed veggie trays?  I tried not to get my hopes up, but as they came closer, I smelled pepperoni and my heart melted like the cheese on that pizza.

people eating pizzaThere was real food!!!  I looked around and saw various restaurants setting up tables with food.

Pizza and BBQ restaurants were there with donated food, but the coup de gras was  Mexican food!

A Mexican restaurant actually brought over free food for the fiesta!  Ole!  This was my kind of party.

I sucked in my gut and headed over to get a plate of food…or at least my first plate.  I knew there would be more rounds.

I ate, trying not to molest the chips and salsa too much since others were watching.

Then I got to thinking; why would a gym have a customer appreciation day and serve only fatty foods and alcohol? Wasn’t that counter intuitive to their goals of healthy living?

And then I realized the genius of it all.  They were trying to fatten us all up (some had a longer road to go than others), so we would feel bad about ourselves and sign up for another year at the gym.  Brilliant!

The presence of alcohol was just another way to keep our inhibitions low so we could easily be persuaded to purchase more at the gym. It was like the gym was utilizing a skill high school boys used all over America; liquor a girl up and she will do whatever you want.

I was in awe of the gym’s ingenuity and I wanted to congratulate someone on the excellent marketing strategy but I was too busy grabbing another plate of delicious BBQ with a side of Mexican rice.

I also wanted to remind the gym that they didn’t have to give me fatty food to keep me coming back to the gym to work it off.  As long as Chipotle was in business, that would never be necessary.