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!!

Fun Shtuff

Here lies a link to a blog that is full of funny, bizarre, witty commentary and links to more of the same:

Mongo Like Internets – Try it – you’ll like it – or possibly be offended – either way, his comments alone are worth a visit. Okay. Alright. I guess that’s all for me. I just don’t have much to say at the moment. Other than this, obviously… this being I don’t have very much to say lately.

Perhaps you’ve noticed.

I haven’t quit my blog, I’ve just nothing to say. I’m feeling a little feisty, though, which is mandatory for me to pontificate.

Love…

 

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.

It’s Fine When YOU Say It, Though

Among other things I’d rather not be called, “bestie” is at the top of the list. Perhaps you’re thinking, “Why ever not?! It’s supposed to be a compliment to the receiver!” I am aware of this, and maybe for the under twenty crowd it works. At my age, though (38), there is something desperate about it… it implies a neediness, particularly because it usually accompanies a facebook post with a picture of women out at a bar :

“Look at me! I’m down with the cool kids – here are some of my hot besties to prove it.”

It makes me uncomfortable – not the photograph of the women, but the cleavage-enhancing, wrinkle-reducing, double-chin-camouflaging angle from which it is taken. And then “bestie” on top of it pushes me into the beginning stages of depression.

Urban Dictionary defines besties as:

Friends who have each other’s backs, look out for each other, spend lots of time together, and are just really good friends. They have inside jokes together, they go to the park and swing on swing sets, get ice cream, go to the beach, go to concerts, go bowling, and basically any activity that they like doing together as friends.

So unless you’re still swinging on swing sets with me or referring to our activities as something we do “together as friends”, let’s just skip the bestie.

These women, by the way, are NOT besties. Just great friends.

Surely You Jest

Image via Wikipedia

Did someone just say Justin Bieber won Favorite Male Pop/Rock Artist, Favorite Pop/Rock Album, Breakthrough Artist of the Year, and ARTIST OF THE YEAR?

Is (s)he officially a male? I’m not convinced. And you will never convince me that he is the Artist of the Year. I don’t even have to explain myself, which makes it that much more shameful that the AMA’s tried to get away with this.

Next year I’ll be artist of the year because I have a synthesizer and I can put words together in a pattern that sometimes rhymes. I’ll sing about love – how it’s great, how it sucks, and how I plan to hook up with all the hot dudes.

Here’s some real news, though:

My 4-year-old just told me something I did not know about “Justin Beaver”… “He got bad drugs and said cuss words so he’s in jail.”

Seriously? Huh. That would be a much more delightful headline to have stumbled across this morning…

Bieber Got Bad Drugs AND He Cussed– Are the nation’s youth cussing and getting away with it? F*%k No.

 

Silent Killer

I love The Onion. Obviously.

Just a few of their Weekender covers for your enjoyment…

If I Ever

If I ever change my Facebook profile picture repeatedly because I can’t quite settle on which picture makes me look as gorgeous as I perceive myself, please de-friend me or have me shot.

I mean it.