Is That A Men’s Watch?

You know what I remembered today?

Something I had no business forgetting – that while I do care about other’s opinions, I care more about almost everything else… I have plenty of truly important things to concern myself with, including:

Is it still summer or is it fall? If it’s fall I can wear boots.

I MUST learn to French braid hair.

I wish Garnet Hill would have the Zinnia bedding again so I could have a matching set. Garnet Hill… that reminds me of  my favorite watch – the one David Sedaris told me he liked.

Is it 3:15p.m. or do I have 3 hours and 15 minutes of battery life left on my Mac?

Fortunately, my priorities are back in place… just in time for whatever’s next. 

Only you can prevent forest fires,

Amy

P.S. The grey (aka graphite) one…

Today – A Guest Blog

For your enjoyment, I’ve asked a friend and fellow blogger, Jason at  Mongo Like Internets, to share an especially near and dear message. Read on and take heed.

Turn

 I’ve had bigger spots on my lip and I never stopped whistlin’. 

~ Max “No-No” Fry

 My late Grandfather No-No always told us this after an injury to make us tough. Recently I’ve come to realize it’s a useful metaphor for many of life’s troubles. Basically, for all of life’s troubles.  The message?  Don’t freak out about the small stuff.  A clichéd statement I know, but it seems to be one that most people forget about, as they get older.

 Speaking of getting older…

We live in the Future.  As children we played with technology our parents never dreamed about, and in turn, our children do the same.  Technology like cell phones, the Internet, blogs, etc. has created a sounding board for every thought, idea, and dream to be broadcast to anyone that will listen.  This seems to be the point where some people start to have issues about our newfound amplified voices; they become offended if our beliefs and thoughts don’t align with theirs.  They complain, gossip, and spread fear that our words are damaging to the Common Good.  In most cases those complaining don’t give a rat’s ass about any Common Good.  They’re just upset about something challenging their own sensibilities and thoughts about life.

 Well, I have a solution.

 Turn.

 Yes, TURN.

 Turn it off.  Turn your head.  Turn the channel.  Turn the page.  Turn to something positive in your life.  Turn into oncoming traffic.

 Just…turn.

If you don’t like it move your eyes, brain, fat ass, or whatever else is being affected to an area of less concerning stimuli.  I swear it won’t hurt our feelers.  We probably never even knew you were watching because, and here’s the Lesson, WE DON’T DO IT FOR YOU.  Shocking, I know.  Some of us, scratch that, most of us write about life, pass on funny videos, write songs, or draw penises on dirty car windows because we are expressing ourselves.  WE enjoy it, and if we’re lucky enough for some others to stumble across our work and it makes them think, or even crack the slightest smile, well then, it’s all gravy, baby.

 Shall we review one last time so we can leave this here lil corner of cyberspace on the same page?

 If you don’t like something you view upon your own free will, then…

 Turn.

And remember, if you ever get butt hurt about something you saw or read on the Internet, or anywhere else for that matter, the author of that content has probably had bigger spots on their lip and they never stopped whistlin’.

Jimmy Kimmel – Tonight

Remember that blog I mentioned last week, Mongo Like Internets, that a friend of mine – Jason – recently started?

Sure you do…

Well, Jason contacted the Jimmy Kimmel producers in response to a call for people to be live on the show (via video feed). Long-ish story short, he was a finalist being considered for the segment. After a few “meetings” (Skype) with the producer, a little shootin’ the sh*t, and a comment he made to her about how the high temperatures in the country are causing puppies and the elderly to spontaneously ignite… voila… he was selected from hundreds (millions? trillions?) of other entrants for tonight’s Jimmy Kimmel Live show …

Anyway, in preparation for part of tonight’s segment (a scavenger hunt), Jason asked friends for ideas as to what might be on the scavenger list, first providing us with examples of actual items from previous Kimmel scavenger hunts:

• Something in your house that vibrates,
• Hair from a hairbrush,
• Ugliest thing in your house.

People quickly misread the request and said

“Toothbrush!”

“Something that vibrates!”

“What? YOU can’t come up with an idea of something that vibrates?!?”

His response to these initial suggestions:

“Uh… I need examples LIKE the questions, not answers”.

Helpfully, people responded to that with suggestions like “get the hair from the dog brush” and “your ass!”…

I was right there with everyone, even less helpful, in fact… My completely-off-the-mark suggestions included a misting fan, a sun hat with a neck flap, and a pellet gun, which would have been great if he had asked “What should I wear tonight?” or “How can I protect myself from puppies and elderly people?”

Can’t wait to see what happens. Hopefully he’ll become rich, famous and desperate to give his friends money.

Good luck, Jason!!

Sleep Deprivation Is No Laughing Matter

It isn’t funny. Babies don’t sleep. In fact, toddlers don’t sleep either, which means adults with children sleep, on average, 14 hours in a four-year time period. So that sucks.

But this book doesn’t suck. You should read it – even if you don’t have kids. 

Here it is: Sleep. 

Thank you to my friend JM for sharing.

Dear Diary

Image via CrunchBase

Dear Diary,

The other day I noticed that someone was missing from Facebook. She was my friend last week, but not today.

“Huh,” I wondered as I painted my toenails (Essie – a greyish color), “she was funny. I wonder what happened to her?”

Well! You will never, ever guess what she did! The bitch de-friended me!! What have I ever done to her? Nothing.

Right? Nothing?

Wrong.

I missed her Facebook mandate. “My boyfriend and I broke up. Those of you who do not IMMEDIATELY de-friend him will be really sorry… and boy, do I mean it. I mean it!”

Wait. What?

That’s not even a believable April Fool’s Day joke. Who would think that was for real? I would understand if she de-friended him, of course, but why am I involved? I’ve never even met the guy.

Alas, who cares besides me and you, Diary? I’m sensitive. And sometimes even needy. So when someone goes out of their way to let me know they don’t like me, I’m not only curious but I’m irritated with myself… clearly I’ve misread some idiot and have wasted my time by clicking on “yes“ when THEY asked to be MY friend on stupid Facebook.

In fact, I go well out of my way to avoid people in general who:

A) I don’t like

B) Are crazy

C) Ask me what my husband does for a living (at least not the very moment we meet – the answer is tricky. Not everyone can appreciate how hard pimps work. Plus, HELLO! If they even deigned to ask me what I did for a living they would probably figure out what my husband does)

D) Confuse me as someone who has no peripheral vision (which would be the only excuse for those women who blatantly give the once-over… “Yes. I can see you deducing my worth and, unless you’re interested in talking to my pimp, I suggest you take your business elsewhere”)

Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah – so then, Diary, guess what? I noticed today that someone else didn’t want to be my friend anymore. I think it’s because I didn’t “like” her status updates frequently enough – which were word-for-word the same as another guy’s posts I read.

His posts are hilarious. When he writes them the first time. Which is right after he thinks them up and then posts them. First. He writes them first. Because he thought them up all by himself.

Whatever – that’s enough out of me for one day, and, as you know, I try to end my day with humble reflection and purposeful gratitude. So:

Reflection:

I admit I am occasionally offensive (As you well know, right diary? Ha ha! Whew – we have some great memories, you and I);

Gratitude:

I am thankful that most people:

A) Have a life; and

B) Don’t go all bat-shit-crazy and de-friend others in an attempt to display their power.

Alrighty. Good talk. BFF.

Public Service Announcement

Image via Wikipedia

Hi there.

This is going to be short and sweet. You might consider printing it out and sharing it with your disgusting co-workers or fellow airline passengers.

Under no circumstances is it appropriate to snort your snot LOUDLY and REPEATEDLY in a public place. You are startling people! If people clutch their chests in shock and cringe as they look over at you, yet you keep at it, expect fewer social invitations.

In addition, it is not acceptable to hack and cough in a manner that suggests you’re dying – I’m talking about the scary, loud, dramatic “look-at-me” cough that goes on for ten minutes – unless you are certain you are dying. Even then, it’s iffy.

At the very least, please escort yourself and your repulsive display of illness elsewhere.

KTHXBAI!

Name of the Game (Calling All Freaks)

January & February suck. Everyone’s waxing philosophic and contemplating the meaning of life. Feeling sluggish, fat, and crappy. Levity is in order (as I have said before). So, c’mon…

Now, some background:

First:

Imagine me in a movie, walking down the street in slow motion – the wind is blowing my hair into my eyes and making it stick to my lip gloss, I’m trying to act cool, but I can’t because of the hair. I can barely see. I trip as I pass by a group of skateboarding 14-year-old boys. With me? Good.

Second:

Earlier in this movie you observed a vignette of my daily life:  Boss is an asshole. Employees, ditto. Kids are whiny and spoiled. Husband takes me for granted. Everyone is a terrible driver (with the obvious exception). People are painfully, irritatingly, stupid… and, despite constant evidence otherwise, this still seems to amaze me. I am THIS close to just keepin’ on keepin’ on.

Third:

But something happens – maybe one disappointment too many, maybe I’m just a bitch… it doesn’t really matter. What matters is that suddenly, and with this song playing in time with my every step, I am ready to kick some ass. You are on my side, of course. My theme song indicates I have chosen to take it or leave it – all of it… to start dishing out my every uncensored thought. You find yourself wondering – “Is she dreaming? Is it fantasy or reality? Is she retarded?”

No matter. What matters is that you love the song. You wish you had claimed it before I did.

So.

When the kids wake up in the morning and try to eff with me, they will hear this song. When the boss tries to bully me into doing the job I’m paid for, this song starts to play. When a giant pick-up truck with Oklahoma plates pulls in front of me out of nowhere, this song plays. When somebody in customer service tries to jack with me… well. Obviously.

And every time it (the song) plays, it starts out kind of quietly, but gets louder (think maximum headphone volume) until something transpires that makes us (me and you) feel better. Like I tell someone off. Or something crazy like that.

“Why drag me into this madness?” you may wonder. Because I love you. And tomorrow when you wake up and have to deal with the daily BS, you will hear this song playing in the background. Our theme song. And you will smile, despite the February of it all.

With that said, please consider the source (me) and, so forewarned, click HERE to listen. or here (if that doesn’t work)

Enjoy, Motha Fucka. (Get ’em up in the back row. I said GET ‘EM UP in the back row).*

*If you don’t listen to the entire song, please disregard.

You’re Fat

I am thankful to have been asked to be a guest-blogger on The Real Housewives of Oklahoma. My post is just fabulous. Just. Fabulous. Really.

Kiddin’. But it does cement your insecurities as to the media’s perception of your fat arse. And mine.

xo

Return It To The Freezer. Now.

The Sedaris Empire

Image via Wikipedia

I love David Sedaris and Amy Sedaris. The wit. The way they don’t temper their comments. Amy is ridiculous. Brilliant. David’s writing makes me feel like I’m drunk on a combination of wit, awe, and hysteria. The poignancy he weaves into his stories will sneak up on you and might even make you cry. If you’re a crybaby. Which I am.

Anyone who doesn’t find them funny is lacking in the intelligence department.

Read Naked or Me Talk Pretty One Day if you’re up for your sides to split wide open.

Amy’s latest book, Simple Times: Crafts for Poor People, is genius, too.

Some links for your viewing pleasure:

2011: Not the Year of the Busy Mom

I am concerned about the data that must exist about “busy moms” and their interests – particularly as it relates to the design and marketing of wall calendars and agendas. You should be concerned too… Someone is spending time and money researching this demographic in order to offer products that will generate income. Sadly, the resulting products are infantile and cartoonish, which obviously means that is what the market supports.

The next time you are browsing the calendar section at Barnes and Noble, take note. Squint your eyes and look for the yellow cartoony area – now focus.

I told you.

In the bid to win her business, marketing professionals saturate the packaging with information about the calendar’s hundreds of happy little stickers (soccer practice, doctor appointments, celebrations) that the suicidal mom can use in her new calendar. They might be meant as a subliminal message…

“There, there little lady. No need to engage your brain. Just keep up the good car-pooling work and have supper on the table by 5:30. These pretty stickers will make it all seem fun! You’ll see. Now run along.”

I love a pretty calendar or agenda, I admit it… something to take the tedium out of the scheduling of my weekly meetings with my parole officer… but my ability to process fairly complex thoughts (Where am I? Where are my kids? What’s for dinner? Does little Billy play baseball? If so, when and where?) also means I haven’t found the right one yet. I’ve shopped around, too – the selection at Amazon really might be a practical joke.

I guess I will hold on to my $13.95, unless one of these beauties suddenly excites my hypothalamus: