photo credit: bengtham via photopin cc

photo credit: bengtham via photopin cc

I don’t mean to brag (yes I do), but I have another post published with Yahoo! Voices.  It’s about how I continue to watch Keeping Up With The Kardashians despite the fact it makes me want to poke my eyes out and pour acid on my brain.

Come to think of it, watching the show is just like pouring acid on my brain.

Either way, you should read it because:

1.  I will cry if you don’t

2.  It’s an awesome post

3.  If you don’t, I will submit your name and contact information to The Church of Scientology and tell them you’re interested in being personally contacted.

You don’t want that.

No one wants that.

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http://voices.yahoo.com/why-dont-want-keep-kardashians-anymore-12201251.html?cat=2

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photo credit: planeta via photopin cc

photo credit: planeta via photopin cc

spelling beeMy husband is not the athletic type.  He actually has a shirt that just says “unathletic.”  It fits him perfectly.  No really.  It literally fits him perfectly.  It’s like Matt was the manufacturer’s muse.

So imagine my surprise when I walked into our living room tonight and discovered the TV was on ESPN.

I realize that may be a normal occurrence in homes across America, as most men watch ESPN almost as much as they watch porn.  Almost.

However, in my house, the only time the channel is on ESPN is if I put it there, and the only time I put it there is when The World’s Strongest Man is on.

I asked my husband why the four-letter word was on in our house, and he responded with “It’s the Spelling Bee, yo!”

Ah, yes, the Spelling Bee.  That glorious competition that comes along once a year…or five times a year.  I don’t really know, because I don’t care about spelling bees.  No one cares about spelling bees.

remote from 1982And yet, I found myself watching it (mostly because he had the remote).

If you haven’t seen this disaster, then you probably have more of a life than I do.

But if you have, well, then it makes sense you read my blog.  You obviously have too much time on your hands (and poor taste).

The premise?  Exactly what you think it is.  Kids are given words to spell and they have to spell them.  Yeah.  Only it’s not in a gymnasium.  And it isn’t as much fun as it sounds.

It doesn’t sound fun.

Pretty simple, right?  Yeah, it is.  So why are there commentators?  I have no clue, but I’m glad there are.

bees and honeycombThey may be there just to keep us awake.  Two men make comments as each nerd kid stands on the stage and contemplates how to spell a word no one has ever heard of.

I definitely need commentary to get me through that.  And vodka.

Come to think of it, if I had a commentator present when I spelled out words in emails (or this blog), maybe my writing would be more enjoyable. And coherent.

Fortunately, the commentators delivered the comedy.  Isn’t that what they’re supposed to do?  It may not have been intentional on their part, but they said some ridiculous things that were utterly enjoyable.

For instance, one of them actually said the following:  “Fun fact:  He can name all the world’s capitals.”

trueUm, that’s not a fun fact.  I’m not sure what ESPN and these commentators think is fun, but world capitals are not fun.

However, making fun of the Spelling Bee is, so I continued to watch.

It then went silent as the world capitalist stood there.  (Since he knows all the capitals in the world, that makes him a world capitalist, right?)

As the Capitalist stood there contemplating how to spell nbmkioiuiouiou, one of the commentators made yet another brilliant observation as the kid scratched his chin.

He said “We’ve not seen him do that before.”

Um, the kid scratched his chin.  I’M NOT KIDDING!

Had they already gone through their bag of “fun facts” and were now relegated to observing twitches and body movements?

dictionaryAfter being given the word ggkopyyyiopuioujoj (the y is silent), the Capitalist asked the obvious question; the one we were all thinking.

He asked if there were any alternative pronunciations.

I waited for the moderator to respond with “Yeah, idiot.  There’s a million alternative pronunciations, and all of them are botched because no one knows any of these words.”

Instead, he answered “No.

Apparently that wasn’t enough of an answer, so the nerd kid asked the next completely logical question.  He asked for the definition of the word.

Right, because the definition will tell you everything you need to know about how to spell bkmkljhoyhoijjo (pronounced with a hard j).

The moderator actually responded with the definition, although I’m not sure what it was, as I wasn’t listening.

school daysInstead, I just imagined him telling the kid the definition was “Not a word you’re ever going to have to know in real life.”

Maybe I should be a commentator for the Bee.

And yet, what I found to be the biggest challenge of this entire spelling bee (aside from resisting the urge to change the channel), was the pronunciation of each contestant’s name.

Instead of doing an entire competition of spelling words no one has heard of, they should all just try to spell each other’s names.  It sure would cut down on the competition time.

But seriously, who is going to break it to these people that there’s such a thing in this world as spell check?

That the one talent these kids possess is something a machine can do faster and more efficiently, and without asking stupid questions?

I know I’m not going to be the one to burst their bee-filled bubble.

bee1Maybe it will be one of those things they never know exists.  It will be a mystery to these kids forever; much like the feel of  a woman’s breasts.  (Other than their mother’s, of course.)

As I sat there contemplating all the wonderful things about this program, I got to thinking about why it’s called a spelling bee.

How did the bee get to become the beloved mascot of this delightful sport?

Come to think of it, it might be(e) because watching a spelling bee is as painful as being stung in the face by a swarm of bees.

Or maybe it’s that you wish a swarm of bees would sting you in the face so you could stop watching the competition.

But then again, if that happened, you’d probably be prescribed a bunch of drugs with names you wouldn’t be able to spell.

My mom's purse and her blinged out phone case.

My mom’s purse and her blinged out phone case.

This is my future.  Look at it.  Is it a photo of a purse with faux fur on it?  Yes, yes it is.

HELP!Is it adorable?  Yes, but that’s not the point.  And the blinged out phone cover? Also adorable, but also gaudy, no?

The point is this:  I’m turning into my mother.

Don’t get my wrong, I tolerate love my mother, so turning into her is isn’t a bad thing.

But so soon?  So quickly?

I figured I’d be at least late 50s before the resemblences started creeping in.  Apparently not.

I’ve been denying it for years, but it’s quickly becoming a realization I don’t think I can deny anymore.  The transformation has begun!

<to be read in a loud voice with ominous music in the background.>

I know, I know, few more horrific words have ever been uttered.  It’s what every young girl fears the most.

Well, that and the clap, but I guess since I dodged that bullet, I’m stuck with the other fear.

Whether it’s the lesser of two evils is something I’m not sure of, although I know one of them can be cured with penicillin.

laughing with mouth openIt came on gradually (the transformation, not the clap). I think both ailments may come on gradually but the transformation into my mother didn’t involve itchiness or the urge to pee myself.

Either way, I noticed the changes slowly.

Uttering a cheesy phrase under my breath was the first sign.

Want an example?  Well, you’re getting one.

When watching an episode of Law & Order: SVU, the opening credits indicated one of the actors was named B.D. Wong.

Without even thinking, I yelled out “He B.D. Wong guy for the job!”

Is that joke hilarious?  Of course it is, which is why I began cracking up immediately after I said it.

But then I looked around the room and saw the expressions I knew so well; the eye rolls, the moaning in irritation.

I know them because that’s my standard response to my mother’s jokes that aren’t really that punny.  (Ha!  Punny!  I’m on a roll!)

drugsSimple enough.  I figured it was just one instance of bad joke-telling.  If Seth McFarlane can do it, so can I.

But then it moved onto conspiracy theories.  That’s when I started to notice I may need to seek help.

Was the government trying to take over my life by taxing me to death?  Obviously, as evidenced by this year’s tax return.

Did my office have a secret stash of cookies my coworkers hide from me because they know I’d eat them if I knew about them?  Probably.

But let’s face it; that’s probably a good idea on their part.

One thing I do know for sure, though, is that YES, all the kids really are on drugs these days.  Every. Single. One. Of. Them.

As if these small tendencies creeping into my life weren’t enough, another symptom appeared that made it far more real.  The humming started.  That’s when I knew it was serious.

girl singing with microphoneIt was one thing to believe every kid over the age of 14 was a heroin junkee.  (I blame “the MTV” and the video games.)

But it’s quite another to hum songs loudly in public. Worst of all?  I found myself trying to hum the harmony.

FOR SHAME!

Now it’s just snowballing.  I find myself drawn to sparkly things that most people, and Lisa from 5 years ago, would have found gaudy.  But now, a part of me thinks “That’s kind of pretty.  Look at it sparkle.”

For some reason, my taste in glittery things has skyrocketed and there’s no way to stop it.  Why would I buy a pair of plain glasses when I could get a pair with rhinestones blinged out on the sides?

I wouldn’t.

I guess they say that acceptance is the first step.  I’m not sure if I’m there yet, but I suppose I’m on the road to that destination, not paying attention and sideswiping vehicles as I go.

sparkleMaybe it’s not so bad.

After all, my mom isn’t that far away from the senior citizen discount, and I love saving money.

Plus, the sparkly tops and glittery glasses will make it easier for people to find me when I inevitably fall down or get lost on the street looking for my car.

top of beeer canOkay, I held off as long as I could, but I caved. (No, I’m not talking about the diet that lasted all of 12 minutes, although that is a totally legitimate guess.)  It’s time to talk about the glorious train wreck that’s better known as The Bachelor/The Bachlorette series.

I could dedicate an entire blog just to musings about this wonderful show, but I try to refrain because I know my readers really want to read about my life, and how I manage to do nearly impossible things, like get myself kicked out of the local library.  (Not so much kicked out, as encouraged to stay away for the next 60 days.)

Every week I desperately want to do a recap of the show, where I point out all the ridiculous things I notice (like last week’s episode with the constant thunder and complete lack of rain drops).  However, instead, I decided to be more creative and combine two of my favorite things:  making fun of The Bachelor/Bachlelorette, and drinking.

I tried to figure out how to add Chipotle and Ryan Gosling in there, but I’m not that big of a genius, so let’s just start with drinking and The Bachelor/Bachelorette.

Here are the rules:  Whenever someone says or does one of the following things, you have to take a shot.  Yes, a shot.  Not a drink of beer.  This game isn’t for pussies, and neither is The Bachelor/Bachelorette.  Go big or go home.  Actually, you probably are at home watching the show, but whatever.  Get out your finest liquor (or liqueur if you are a total douche), and take a shot every time the following happens:

1.  Someone says “I think I’m really falling for her/her.”  —-2 shots

Who actually says this? No self respecting guy would ever say these exact words.  Ever.  In real life, a guy would get punched in the dick for saying something like this…probably by me.  Hey douche bag, return your man card and grab some Tampax because you clearly have a vagina.

2.  The Bachelor/Bachelorette says “I’ve got some fun dates planned this week.”  —3 shots

Really?  You planned the dates?  It wasn’t some ABC intern making $2 an hour being forced to purchase hookers for Chris Harrison while staving off his sexual harassment and ass grabs?  Yeah, we all believe it’s you that’s the mastermind behind these dates.

You thought Bermuda was a made up island invented by The Beach Boys for their catchy “Kokomo” tune, but we are supposed to believe you were able to secure the helicopter and $5 million yacht for the afternoon. Sure… (“Way down in Kokomo…”)

3.  Someone is able to identify the quiet unknown girl/guy by name before his/her name flashes on the screen.  —pass out a shot to everyone else in the room

Every season there’s a candidate that no one knows exists.  He’s that random creepy guy in the corner braiding his ponytail and writing in his journal.  He’s the guy that never gets a one-on-one date, and the guy I’m pretty certain is just one of the extra camera guys who is off duty but wanted to get in a shot or two.

 

If you can identify that guy’s name, you deserve to pass around shots to everyone else in the room.  You also deserve to get a hobby because that’s seriously pathetic.  Come to think of it, you should drink too.

4.  Whenever someone says “I really like it best when it’s just the two of us.”  —2 drinks

Yeah, it’s just the two of you…and the camera men…and the lighting guys…and the producer…and America.  Yeah, it’s a real quaint date.  Maybe you guys should go to the Olympics…you know…for some alone time.

5.  Someone says “He’s/She’s not there for the right reasons.”  —slam a beer

Yeah, cuz the rest of you are all there for the right reasons…definitely not for the free tripp and the 8 week long kegger.  Yep.  You’re there for love.  The way you shed your shirt and flex your pecs every time the camera is on you definitely makes that clear.

6.  Someone says “I really want to find love.”  —punch your neighbor in the face.  (Passing out shots got kind of boring and this will switch it up a bit.  I told you this game wasn’t for pussies.)

Of course…you’re there for love.  And by love, you mean the cover of “Us Weekly” and by “lasting relationship” you mean you want to get an agent and do Dancing with the Stars.

7.  Someone says “This is really hard.” —1 drink

drinking glasses

Oh yes, it’s a rough road being on the show.  Lounging around all day in 5 star hotels and pools in exotic locations always stresses me out.  The free food and alcohol makes it positively excruciating.  Shut up, quit your bitchin’, and ask the production assistant to get you another session of spray tanning.

You don’t look quite orange enough for the camera yet.  And stop shaving your chest.  You’re a tool.

8.  The Bachelor/Bachelorette says “Will you accept this rose?”  — punch yourself in the face.  (You might as well, because hearing these lines is already killing brain cells, so why not top it off with a blow to the face?)

roseRight…like a girl/guy isn’t going to accept the lame ass rose that some 16 year old picked up from Walmart approximately five minutes before the show began taping.  Why do they even ask this question?  It’s not like someone is going to turn down the opportunity to enjoy another week of slamming beers and doing push ups by the pool.  Puh-lease.   

I would accept a rose from The Bachelor/Bachelorette if it meant I got to lounge around for another week and boss around Chris Harrison.

There you have it for now.  I’m considering adding more rules as the season goes on, but I wanted to get you all started with this game, as I know you were desperately looking for something to make that show even more enjoyable than it already is.

If you are planning on playing this game, may I also suggest that before you start, you get a note from your doctor keeping you off work for the next day?  I guarantee your hangover will thank you.

 

jail cell

I was recently home with the flu for several days. and it was less than exciting. My frequent trips to the bathroom confused my dogs and reminded me I really need to clean my baseboards (or get a maid).

I will spare you the details, but let’s just say if I kept this up much longer, I could actually fit into a smaller size of those Pajama Jeans

Because I was unable to leave my house, I was glued to the TV in an effort to keep my mind off something other than when the next dose of Pepto was due.   Fortunately, I found a marathon of To Catch a Predator on MSNBC and tuned in.

For those of you not familiar with the program, I pity you, as it’s truly one of the most amazing programs on television (sorry The Bachelor, you’re a close second).

The show involves a rented house where pedophiles come to meet the “teenager” they’ve been chatting with online. Of course, the teenager is a creepy woman in her 30s whose voice sounds like a prepubescent boy.

This chick could use a trip to the salon and a lesson in dental hygiene.

I’m just glad the show doesn’t focus on her, as not as many people would tune in each week…of that I am certain.Getting back on topic…these creepsters believe they are meeting the child they’ve been chatting with, but instead, are greeted by Chris Hanson, the host of the show.  Chris then proceeds to ask them a series of ridiculous questions that are both painful and enjoyable all at the same time. (Kind of like watching an episode of Glee.)

The result is pure gold, aside from the fact these men are creepy and disgusting, and none of them understands how to properly wear a pair of pants. (Would it kill these guys to wear a belt?)

I personally love to watch Chris Hanson during the interview portion of the program. It’s not just because he is far more attractive than the disgusting, sweaty pedophiles with the molestache that grace this show, but also because he gets overly excited when he reveals himself to the men.

Ooops. Allow me to rephrase. I realize that in this context, “reveal himself” can have a different meaning. I mean that I love it when he identifies himself as the host of the show, and tells the people they are on TV.

Apparently these men chat online with who they believe are underage boys and girls.  Yes, you read that right, they are chatting online…in 2012.  I know.  It’s such a cliche. I didn’t even know chat rooms still existed.  I thought they died out with the free AOL CDs and P. Diddy’s music career.

Apparently these chat rooms are still around, which blows my mind as I’m not sure how these pedophiles can hold an internet connection to a chat room.  I’m sure these predators are using dial-up to chat in their mom’s basement surrounded by cat feces and the heads of Barbie dolls.

arrest.jpg

The best part about this show (aside from trying to guess how Chris Hanson hides his erection during each “big reveal”), is listening to the various excuses the men give for why they are at the house.

No.  I take that back.  That’s not the best part of the show.  The best part is when these d-bags get arrested on the front lawn.  They don’t just get taken down nicely in a simple arrest.  They are under siege the moment they walk out the door.

Frequently, there is a policeman in camouflage dressed like shrubbery who comes out of nowhere to tackle these idiots to the ground.  It’s priceless.  It’s such a rush to watch a bush on the lawn come to life and take down a pedophile in the middle of the day.

Nothing says justice like being attacked by an azalea bush.  I have no doubt the cops could easily take the men into custody without incident, but where’s the fun in that?

Overall, this show is a beacon of hope for me whenever I have the flu.  It provides endless hours of entertainment and almost makes me wish for the stomach flu so I have an excuse to watch it again.  Come to think of it, I think I feel some aches and pains coming on now…where’s the remote?

 Thanksgiving-

 

It’s Thanksgiving, my favorite holiday of the year! What other holiday focuses completely on over-eating, drinking heavily, and then repeating the process?

Okay, maybe I just described a normal Tuesday night at my house, but whatever. On Thanksgiving I don’t have to hide the fact that I ate an entire box of 100 calorie Hostess packs.

I love Thanksgiving, not only because it encourages us to stuff our faces and then nap, but also because it reminds us to be thankful for things in our lives. So I decided to make a list of some of the things I’m thankful for.

Isn’t that what this holiday is about? Well, that, and drinking heavily to to numb the pain of listening to Aunt Edna talk about her colonoscopy for the 5th time, but you get the point.

I also wanted to make a list of things I’m thankful for to counter-balance the recent posts I’ve made complaining about things.  I shall hold off on Occupy my Couch Round 3 for today.

Starbucks has a drive thru

coffee and donutDuh. This is a no-brainer. I am addicted to Starbucks. That’s no secret. One look at the inside of my car, with empty venti cups strewn about will tell you I can’t get enough of that place.

There may or may not also be random Fiber One bar wrappers in my car as well, but don’t judge. I like to be regular.

I hit up this joyous place nearly every day, and they take a significant portion of my salary each and every year. That’s okay, as long as they make with the pumpkin spice latte.

So I’m thankful they’ve finally decided to start putting drive thrus in the Starbucks locations.

Whew! I can’t be expected to actually get out of my car and walk inside to order my 500 calorie drink, heavy on the whip.

That’s ridiculous! And since I’m very important, I don’t have time to park, get out of my car, and walk into the store only to be exposed to blaring tunes of Michael Buble.

I can just sit in my car and rock out to him. That doesn’t require any physical activity.

So I’m thankful that Starbucks continues to not only contribute to my broke bank account, it also continues to contribute to my expanding waist line and my dedication to a lack of exercise. Cheers!

The house next door to us is vacant

house for saleNo, I don’t want to use the neighboring house to have a party with my friends where we play spin the bottle and chug from a bottle of Apple Pucker, although that does sound like a delightful night.

Rather, I’m thankful the next door house is vacant because I don’t like to get fully clothed to let the dogs in and out for their potty breaks.

That’s a lot of work, and as you discovered from the segment above, I’m extremely lazy.

When there was someone living in the house next door, I would have to throw on a robe (or pants) when I let the dogs out.

Now that it’s vacant, I don’t have to be bothered with fully clothing myself just to let my dogs do their business on the oak tree.

I hope that house always remains vacant, because I can’t be bothered to fully clothe myself whenever my dogs need to pee, but I also don’t want to be arrested for indecent exposure (again).

Someone invented DVR

remote and tvI’m far too important to be bothered with commercials. Don’t the networks know I have better things to do than watch Wilford Brimley warn of the dangers of diabetes?

I always find it humorous that I watch these commercials with some sort of sugary treat in hand.

When I sit down to a good episode of Gossip Girl or America’s Next Top Model, I can’t be bothered with commercials reminding me I need to clean my house or call my mother.

I want to know why Chuck Bass is acting strange. Get on with it!

Fortunately, DVR allows me to fast forward these annoying interruptions so I can get back to making fun of Tyra Banks and her over-dramatic diatribes and her over-active behind.

Dog bones

dog with bone on noseWith three dogs in the house, it can get a little hectic.

But sometimes I just want to sit down and relax, and not be bothered by barking dogs and a nagging husband.

The bones fix one of those two problems.

I realize that giving my dogs bones to stop them from being assholes may not be the best way to handle the situation, but it’s the easiest way, and it keeps me from having to do any real work, so I support it.

That way I can get back to eating my brownie and watching reruns of Roseanne without any judgment from the dogs.

And believe me, I get my punishment from giving the dogs bones, as the gas the bones gives our dogs will peel the paint right off your walls, or at least burn your nose hair.

It’s a vicious cycle, but at least this lazy solution ensures my husband will never have nose hair sticking out. It’s a win-win.

Citi Card knows my spending habits

hands and credit cardI received a text this morning that Citi Card detected unusual activity on my account. I immediately called back, ready to get to the bottom of who was fraudulently using my card.

The nice recorded voice asked me to verify some charges, as they didn’t seem like the charges I would regularly make.

I listened in anticipation, ready to mount my revenge on the thugs who obviously stole my number.

She began listing the charges, all of which were my husband’s. However, I appreciate they know that I wouldn’t spend only $14.00 at a pizza joint. They know me better than that.

A girl needs some bread sticks with her pizza! I’m glad Citi Card knows I prefer to charge things at the grocery store, the gas station and the liquor store down the street (usually after 10:00 p.m.)

Obviously a charge to Whole Foods at 8:00 a.m. would draw suspicion.

In all seriousness, I am so thankful for so many amazing people in my life, and I’m also thankful for those of you who read this blog and encourage me to keep writing.

It’s an outlet I truly enjoy and I couldn’t do it if I knew no one was reading it.

So open another can of cranberry sauce, loosen your pants, and enjoy this day. I know I have so many things to be thankful for, and I’m sure you do too! Happy Thanksgiving!

kids yellingI feel like complaining.  Maybe it’s the weather, maybe it’s the protesting going on across the nation, or maybe it’s because I know the pumpkin spice latte at Starbucks will be going away soon.  So long my dear, sweet friend.

Whatever the reason, I’ve decided to pick up where I left off with my last set of grievances and do a second round of Occupy My Couch.  So let the airing of grievances commence!  (To be yelled in Frank Costanza’s voice)

Why is it that fat men on TV are always with smoking hot women?

woman in dot patternThis always seems to blow my mind, and when I was single, it certainly didn’t give me hope for the future.

Fortunately, I managed to snag a hot thin guy, which I suppose makes me the fat, gross one in the relationship….wait…I don’t like that.  Would an example better demonstrate my point?  I thought so.

Although I loved King of Queens, I had difficulty believing the relationship between husband and wife.

Are the American viewers really supposed to believe that a 90 pound, adorable Carrie Heffernon would really go out with a 300 pound delivery driver who eats constantly and sweats in places I didn’t know existed?

How dumb do they think we are? Considering the fact that 2 Broke Girls is still on the air, it’s clear we actually are fairly dumb.

However, I’m pretty sure if this was a real life scenario, Doug would approach Carrie at a bar and offer her a PBR and a plate of wings.

holding hands2That’s certainly the way to this girl’s heart, but most likely not hers.  She would reject him in a second, and if he didn’t leave immediately, she would have him kicked out of the bar.

I just don’t believe she’s madly in love with him. Why don’t TV shows tell it like it really is?

Two semi-attractive people get drunk in a bar, make some bad decisions, and a miserable marriage is born, complete with a Hydrocodone addiction and an active subscription to Playboy.

Now that’s an American marriage!  I would watch that show, most likely while noshing on wings and PBR).

Why must they call these new phones “smart phones?”

I know I sound like an old woman, and maybe I am, but I don’t like the description of “smart phone” for a phone that does several things.

Not so much that I don’t agree that the phone is smart, but because I feel bad for the other phones. Does that mean the other phones are dumb?

blackberryIf someone is rocking a Nokia flip phone circa 2006, does that mean their phone is stupid?  Was there an IQ test given to determine which phones are smart and which ones aren’t?  What did that test entail?

And why is it deemed a smart phone simply because it has the ability to email,call, text, and save Jimmy from the well? Does that really make it smart, or just a good mulit tasker?

My shift manager at my high school job was a great multi tasker, but I’m pretty sure she couldn’t figure out how to open a box of condoms, which is why she was constantly knocked up, and unpleasant.

two girls on phonesSo the ability to multi task doesn’t automatically make someone smart.  It just makes them efficient.

Hence, I refuse to refer to them as “smart phones.”

Rather, I shall call them efficiency phones, because that’s what they are.

I realize this suggests they come with a toilet in the kitchen and a landlord whose done prison time for cat porn, but I still think the moniker is better than “smart phone.”

Why do only a few types of restaurants deliver food?

You knew at least one of these complaints would be about food.  Come on.  I will never understand why only a limited type of food establishments deliver food to my door.

Granted, Domino’s has removed me from their delivery schedule because of a recent incident involving profanity and a threat of “cutting” the supervisor, but who could blame me?  They forgot my chocolate lava cakes.  Totally justified.

delivery guy1 I can’t tell you how many nights a week I’m lazy and wish someone would deliver me some enchiladas and cheese with a side of lasagna.

Why is it that only pizza, Chinese food and Jimmy John’s deliver?  Okay, I get it with Jimmy John’s.  They are “freaky fast.”

But I don’t want a Turkey Tom every day of my life…just on Thursdays.  And is it that hard to believe that someone who is too lazy to leave their house to get dinner would want a different type of fatty food other than straight carbs?

Wait…I don’t really want anything but carbs…I just want carbs smothered in melted cheese.  Whatever.

I realize it doesn’t make sense to have salads delivered to your door.  I mean, what idiot would order a salad for dinner?!  An asshole, that’s who.

I just can’t believe that in a country where we can program our DVR from the toilet to record Gossip Girl.  Don’t judge. XOXO.

A girl can’t get some chips and salsa delivered to her doorstep for a reasonable charge.  How un-American!

Until I get the answers to some of these very important questions (and a comfortable bra), I will continue to occupy my couch (bra less), and I will do so with pride…and with pizza and Jimmy John’s in my hand.  Together we stand…..er….sit!

yell with megaphone

Occupy Wall street has received a lot of attention over the months for its supporters’ protests and signage.  As someone who works downtown in a city where the protesters congregate, I’ve noticed that some of the signs complain of legitimate problems, such as unemployment and health care.

However, some of the signs are random and completely irrelevant, as I’m confident that although some may not like our city’s mayor, he really isn’t a vampire.

suit guy on couchI’ve seen him at night…eating garlic.  Back off.

So in the spirit of Occupy Wall Street, I decided to make a list of some of my issues and problems.  I can’t make a sign and stand in protest all day, as my job actually expects me to work all day (can you believe it?).

That, and I’m lazy and don’t want to stand for hours holding a sign.  That seems too much like work, or exercise, and I’m not a fan of either.  Instead, I will write some of my grievances here.

Hardly anyone will see this post, but at least it doesn’t require me to use poster board and glitter.

Here it goes:

Why don’t shampoo and conditioner bottles have the same amount of product in each of them?

tub with bubblesHow is it that I can purchase 24 ounces of shampoo, but only 16 ounces of conditioner?

Shouldn’t they be the same sized bottles?

I mean, I have the same amount of hair on my head to both wash and condition.  Is Biolage suggesting I could use more shampoo because my hair is in need of more cleaning than conditioning?

This is most likely true, as I often find my hair has a few strands covered in mascara and a few strands covered with some sort of dipping sauce.

And why is this done by all brands, not just Biolage?  Paul Mitchell is in on it too, which I would suspect, as I don’t trust a guy with hair that nice.

This rule also applies to Antonio Banderas.  No one trustworthy has locks like that.

I’m not into doing math, so the different sizes and ounces is frustrating, as I can never properly calculate how many shampoos and conditioners to buy at once.

Instead, I miscalculate, run out of one of them, and improvise by using Noxema as a substitute.

It doesn’t make a great conditioner, but I smell like candy canes all day, so I’m usually happy.

Why do all shows go to commercial at the same time?

girl with tvCan’t a girl flip back and forth between House Hunters and Project Runway without always finding commercials on both channels at the same time?  Is it that much to ask?

Apparently it is, as clearly HGTV and USA Network are out to get me.

I refuse to watch commercials, as the ads will simply remind me that I need to do laundry, clean my house, or go for my yearly prostate exam.

Wait..that last one might not be right…

Instead, I will head to the refrigerator for ice cream on these commercial breaks and boycott the advertising entirely.  Ha!  Joke’s on them.

However, if I keep heading to the fridge for ice cream, I may need to watch some commercials about laxatives and weight loss pills.

Either way, this conspiracy just makes me use my DVR more, which allows me to leave the house for a trip to Dairy Queen, so I guess everyone wins.

Why is The George Lopez show on nearly 24 hours a day?

Photo credit: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:GeorgeLopezsitcomcast.jpg

Photo credit:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki
/File:GeorgeLopezsitcomcast.jpg

I like a good sit com about an alcoholic mom who likes to hoe it up with the men, but how is this show syndicated?  Was there a buy one episode get the rest of them free special?

If there was, that’s obviously why Nick at Nite plays these shows constantly; although I can’t imagine it generates a lot of revenue.  I suspect the only people who watch this show are immigrants and drunk people, or sometimes a combination of the two.

And yet, I find myself getting sucked in every time I hear the theme song.  And why is the theme song “Low Rider?”  Couldn’t they come up with a less offensive stereotypical song?

And the characters are jumping on a trampoline?  Really?  That’s all you could come up with for the opening credits?

Someone was clearly stoned when that concept was created, most likely over a bag of Doritos and a pound of M&Ms.

Why must Facebook constantly confuse me with their format changes?

I’m a simple girl.  I need something that’s easy on the eyes and easy to use (like Jake Gyllenhaal).

Photo credit: http://www.jakegyllenhaal.com/

Photo credit:
http://www.jakegyllenhaal.com/

For instance, if I’m in a meeting or don’t want to talk to someone, I will look at Facebook on my phone, furrow my brow and shake my head. 

I like to think this makes people think I’m reading an important email, but I may just look like I’m constipated and in denial about my bowel issues. 

So thanks to Facebook and my confusion over where my status updates are located, the community as a whole thinks I constantly have to use the restroom and that I’m always irritated.  

Wait, that might not be too far off. 

Whenever anything gets complicated and requires me to think, I lose interest.  That’s why I have yet to update my iPhone despite having it for several years.

It may run at a snail’s pace, (which is faster than I can physically run), but I know where everything is and how to use it (as does my 5 year old neighbor, as that b#@$# always changes my password).

But Facebook seems to change their format every time I log on.  Okay, maybe not every time I log on, as I seem to use it fairly regularly as a decoy for my importance.

Why does “top shelf” liquor literally have to be on the top shelf?

shelfYou knew at least one of my complaints would involve liquor didn’t you?  It’s no surprise that I like my vodka.

If you haven’t figured that out by now, you are either an idiot, or drunk on whiskey, and I don’t know which one is worse.  How can people drink that stuff?

I’m also a vodka snob, and like the expensive stuff.  Of course, I have no problem buying a purse, underwear and salad dressing from the same clearance bin at Walmart, but I like my vodka to be of the highest quality.  I mean, I have standards after all.

My beef (mmmm…..) isn’t with the high price of the delicious goodness, it’s with the location of the product.

I realize they call it “top shelf” liquor, but must they really put it on the top shelf?  (My parents put it on all their shelves.  I have photos.)

I mean, we have a Chinese restaurant down the street and I’m pretty sure no one from China would come near that cuisine, nor would they claim it.

Don’t liquor stores know they don’t have to be literal about the location?  It can be “top shelf” and be located on the middle shelf, strategically between the Hershey’s Kisses and the Tylenol P.M.

Doesn’t everyone buy those three things together?

guy with signNow  I’m not one to overexert myself when reaching, unless I’m reaching for ice cream…or Joel McHale, so I don’t want to have to utilize any energy reaching for my beloved liquor.  I want it to be in an easily accessible location.

Come to think of it, I would prefer to just drive through and pick it up…or have it delivered to me at home, and then served chilled with water and a lime, and a new episode of Project Runway.

No one should have to work to get good liquor.  Put it on the middle shelf.  I may be working class, but not when it comes to my drinks.

Okay, I guess I will stop my complaining for now, but I have a feeling I will complain more later, so stand by.  At least this way I don’t have to stand in the rain with a sign.

Rather, I can do my complaining sans bra and contacts…the way our forefathers intended it.

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.