I am obsessed with Ghost Adventures. Everyone in my family and most of my friends make fun of me and have the audacity to suggest that the show is FAKE! Seriously? How can anyone think that a show with a hot (sorta) tattooed star with a gelled faux-hawk, a chubby, but adorable tech/camera dude who gets scared every week, and a silent, almost unnecessary other investigator dude...who find REAL ghosts all over the world (hello?) fake? I love that show!
In fact I was discussing the show with a few...friends...of mine last week. It was Friday afternoon and I was creating art with my...friends...when they started telling me what they like to do on Friday nights. I mentioned that I was pretty boring because my favorite Friday night activity involved cozy jammies, a fluffy comforter and an all night Ghost Adventures marathon! Well, much to my surprise my...friends...started yelling and hopping up and down and telling me that they too were obsessed with Ghost Adventures! We spent the next half hour reminiscing about our favorite GA episodes and how a bowl of popcorn makes the evening even more fun. I told them that I had heard that there was an EVP detector Ap for my i-phone and that next week when we meet to do art that I will have the Ap and we can go on a daytime half hour Ghost Adventure! For those of you who aren't cool enough to watch the show...EVP stands for Electronic Voice Phenomenon...which spirits are known to be able to harness and communicate through this sensitive high tech device...that I can download on my i-phone. I can't wait until I meet with my...friends....again so we can prove to all the nay-sayers who doubt the validity of my favorite show...and a high tech sensitive device...that can be an Ap on my i-phone. Then I will laugh in their faces because I have found people who have the special gifts that it takes to appreciate Ghost Adventures...so what if they are ten years old and are the students in my fifth grade art club? They are really mature in their taste for scientific accuracy and i-phone Aps! Go Birdneck! I'll see you guys next week and we will go on a GA in the gym! We'll even turn the lights out and carry mini flashlights! I love my job!
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Monday, January 23, 2012
fashion Icon
What is wrong with me? I started out very serious on Polyvore. I was matching nice normal wardrobe essentials making dream outfits when suddenly.....I found a peach tutu and then all hell broke loose. I started putting together hideous outfits and posting them on Pinterest pretending I was serious. I put a sea green tulle tea length skirt with a sequined tube top and combat boots. I added a lime green fake fur jacket and labelled it Ozark PTA Outfit. I am eating dry roasted almonds and laughing like an idiot while I destroy Polyvore! I just can't (as my fifth grade teacher told me) take anything seriously! I just can't! Everything has the possibility of humor and mocking and I have elected myself the ambassador of sarcasm and irony. I just can't let it go! I am at this very moment about to pause writing this blog to see if anyone has "liked" my outfits so I can mock them!
I put the peach tutu together with a transparent skull tank top, huge Kartrashian sunglasses and sky high multicolor wedges and an optional grass green sweatshirt with a cartoon character on it and called it "Job Interview."
The scary thing is that all of these items are by a so-called designer and cost a fortune! If I see Lindsay Lohan walking down the street in my lime green fake fur jacket buying crack on TMZ I am going to NYC and sign up at Marc Jacobs...he is in NYC, isn't he? I can't keep up with those ridiculously overpaid designers and their studios and their Brad, Brad Worlds. Seriously, I can't stand the oh so arrogant Rachel Zoe. I don't know why, maybe because my stupid joke outfits would fit in perfectly with her line of flowy crap designed for women with no boobs, or butts, or muscles, or minds of their own...she would call them "ironic."
Now, I have to go because I am in the middle of creating my Baptist Church ensemble complete with sating turban, rubber band bracelets and pleather mini skirt....wait until you see the shoes!
I put the peach tutu together with a transparent skull tank top, huge Kartrashian sunglasses and sky high multicolor wedges and an optional grass green sweatshirt with a cartoon character on it and called it "Job Interview."
The scary thing is that all of these items are by a so-called designer and cost a fortune! If I see Lindsay Lohan walking down the street in my lime green fake fur jacket buying crack on TMZ I am going to NYC and sign up at Marc Jacobs...he is in NYC, isn't he? I can't keep up with those ridiculously overpaid designers and their studios and their Brad, Brad Worlds. Seriously, I can't stand the oh so arrogant Rachel Zoe. I don't know why, maybe because my stupid joke outfits would fit in perfectly with her line of flowy crap designed for women with no boobs, or butts, or muscles, or minds of their own...she would call them "ironic."
Now, I have to go because I am in the middle of creating my Baptist Church ensemble complete with sating turban, rubber band bracelets and pleather mini skirt....wait until you see the shoes!
Sunday, January 22, 2012
senile
I just checked yesterday's mail and the Sentara Health Moguls sent me a helpful postcard with a white haired woman holding a golf club, lining up a putt, that said: "I love my new hip! Ask us about our newest in Hip Replacement!" What the hell? My name was on the front of this card so they must be talking about my old ass hips, right? I am also getting plenty of insult mail from AARP lately. Stop sending me membership applications! I'm only 53! If I can be a member of a retirement organization why do I still have to go to work every day...huh, AARP??? Don't these old age pushers know that I do not plan on being a senior citizen? It just isn't worth admitting I am old just to get a free small coffee at Micky D's!
I think this a conspiracy to break the self esteem of everyone over the age of fifty until we all think that we must sign up for new ball joints and medication schedules while we can still think straight and sign our own name. Dang! We had better get some hearing aids and set up that cataract surgery now!? Pretty soon I'll be racing down to Moyock for dentures to put over my real teeth just because my time must be up! Only VB and NC folks know that Moyock has a discount denture trailer right over the VA border. Gram used to go there to get her "partial" and my mom would drive her there every year. When I was a kid I thought Moyock was just a place for old folks to get teeth. Imagine my surprise when I realized that it was actually a city in North Carolina....where many of their residents don't give a damn whether they have teeth or not.
I refuse to give in to being a senior citizen when I still feel like I'm 25...okay, maybe 35...but I am not going to cut my hair in a sensible short gray 'do and carry a white purse that goes SNAP when you close it. I will not shove tissues up the sleeve of my cardigan sweater and I will not wear Easy Spirit walking shoes with navy blue ployester pull on pants! I will not spend my afternoons watching The Price Is Right and waiting for my stories to come on! I will definitely not lose my desire to be at the center of everything.
I will continue to go to the beach and OMG expose my face to the sun. Do not lecture me about skin cancer and don't tell me the story of how your Uncle Bubba had a tumor the size of a grapefruit cleaved off of his shoulder because he refused to wear sunscreen! I don't wanna hear it, lalalalalalala!
I love the sun, I love to hear the waves crash and I love to watch my g-perfects swim, surf, and make crazy architectural masterpieces out of sea grass, shells, and sand and a sunhat messes up my tan lines.
I'm not giving up all the stuff I like to do and start talking about all of my visits to the doctor. I will never discuss my blood sugar levels, my blood pressure medicine, or my aching joints....so forget about your enticing hip replacement ad, Sentara...no matter how sexy you make it sound.
I think this a conspiracy to break the self esteem of everyone over the age of fifty until we all think that we must sign up for new ball joints and medication schedules while we can still think straight and sign our own name. Dang! We had better get some hearing aids and set up that cataract surgery now!? Pretty soon I'll be racing down to Moyock for dentures to put over my real teeth just because my time must be up! Only VB and NC folks know that Moyock has a discount denture trailer right over the VA border. Gram used to go there to get her "partial" and my mom would drive her there every year. When I was a kid I thought Moyock was just a place for old folks to get teeth. Imagine my surprise when I realized that it was actually a city in North Carolina....where many of their residents don't give a damn whether they have teeth or not.
I refuse to give in to being a senior citizen when I still feel like I'm 25...okay, maybe 35...but I am not going to cut my hair in a sensible short gray 'do and carry a white purse that goes SNAP when you close it. I will not shove tissues up the sleeve of my cardigan sweater and I will not wear Easy Spirit walking shoes with navy blue ployester pull on pants! I will not spend my afternoons watching The Price Is Right and waiting for my stories to come on! I will definitely not lose my desire to be at the center of everything.
I will continue to go to the beach and OMG expose my face to the sun. Do not lecture me about skin cancer and don't tell me the story of how your Uncle Bubba had a tumor the size of a grapefruit cleaved off of his shoulder because he refused to wear sunscreen! I don't wanna hear it, lalalalalalala!
I love the sun, I love to hear the waves crash and I love to watch my g-perfects swim, surf, and make crazy architectural masterpieces out of sea grass, shells, and sand and a sunhat messes up my tan lines.
I'm not giving up all the stuff I like to do and start talking about all of my visits to the doctor. I will never discuss my blood sugar levels, my blood pressure medicine, or my aching joints....so forget about your enticing hip replacement ad, Sentara...no matter how sexy you make it sound.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
tanning
As you all know I am tanning at our local tanning salon/Mensa hangout in preparation for our family trip to Hawaii. I was lying in the hot fake sun pretending I could hear the surf...when in reality all I could hear was Blondie trying to talk an unsuspecting novice tanner into buying crappy lotion for....drumroll please...$100!!!! Yes, I said ONE HUNDRED AMERICAN DOLLARS for cheap stinky tanning bed lotion. "BUT you'll get the full value back in blue bucks that you can spend to upgrade to a better bed!" If I hadn't already been bucky naky and gettin' my bronze on I would have stopped the madness....but I was tanning! Priorities!
When I was given the same hyperactive, wide-eyed, gum popping miracle lotion pitch I asked what these lotions contained that my tube of Eucerin was lacking. She went blank...at least I think she went blank, it was hard to tell. Suddenly her rehearsed speech popped back into her head and she told me that their lotion contained "emollients and tanning boosters like green tea oil!" Okay, all lotions contain emollients. The green tea as a tanning aid was just too weird. Green tea seems to be the new miracle ingredient because it is also in my soap, my lip balm, my shampoo, and my energy drink! I had no idea that it would also give me a bronze glow! Why tan? I can just roll in green tea leaves! Does Dr Oz know about this?
Where was I? Oh yeah ... I was lost in tan land when I realized that Big D needs to tan so he won't burn in HI. I am married to a man who has never even considered tanning...or the need to comb his hair..."What? It just blows into place, Jane!" After I arrived home and showed him my new bronzy...okay, slightly pink...glow, I mentioned the tanning idea to him and he just gave me the "Why do you bother me with crap like this...Oh hell, you're serious" face. Seriously! I don't want him to fry in the hot sun and ruin MY....I mean his vacation! He is middle of winter white. He hates sunscreen and refuses to wear it and whines like a two year old when I spray him down at the beach. He grew up at the beach and he doesn't need girl lotion! "I always have one good peel before I turn black Jane! It's normal!" No D, it's barbaric! Just come to the tanning place and I'll show you what to do! "I don't need you to come with me just tell me what to do. I'll go by myself."
Okay, first, don't buy anything but the five week month package for the best bed. "What? Jane, there aren't five weeks in a month..." Work with me D, just pretend that there are five weeks in a month and when she asks you if you have lotion just say yes. "But I don't have any lotion." DWAYNE! If you tell them that they will talk you into the $100 lotion! I know how you are. "I am not going tanning it's just too much bullshit." That is Big D's favorite word and he uses it often to end discussions. He uses it for everything. He's had enough of this bullshit...he's sick of this bullshit....he doesn't want anymore of this bullshit...He's done talking about this bullshit! When he starts in with the bullshit the argument is over and he's ready to sit in his chair and eat red meat....Maybe we'll tan tomorrow....
When I was given the same hyperactive, wide-eyed, gum popping miracle lotion pitch I asked what these lotions contained that my tube of Eucerin was lacking. She went blank...at least I think she went blank, it was hard to tell. Suddenly her rehearsed speech popped back into her head and she told me that their lotion contained "emollients and tanning boosters like green tea oil!" Okay, all lotions contain emollients. The green tea as a tanning aid was just too weird. Green tea seems to be the new miracle ingredient because it is also in my soap, my lip balm, my shampoo, and my energy drink! I had no idea that it would also give me a bronze glow! Why tan? I can just roll in green tea leaves! Does Dr Oz know about this?
Where was I? Oh yeah ... I was lost in tan land when I realized that Big D needs to tan so he won't burn in HI. I am married to a man who has never even considered tanning...or the need to comb his hair..."What? It just blows into place, Jane!" After I arrived home and showed him my new bronzy...okay, slightly pink...glow, I mentioned the tanning idea to him and he just gave me the "Why do you bother me with crap like this...Oh hell, you're serious" face. Seriously! I don't want him to fry in the hot sun and ruin MY....I mean his vacation! He is middle of winter white. He hates sunscreen and refuses to wear it and whines like a two year old when I spray him down at the beach. He grew up at the beach and he doesn't need girl lotion! "I always have one good peel before I turn black Jane! It's normal!" No D, it's barbaric! Just come to the tanning place and I'll show you what to do! "I don't need you to come with me just tell me what to do. I'll go by myself."
Okay, first, don't buy anything but the five week month package for the best bed. "What? Jane, there aren't five weeks in a month..." Work with me D, just pretend that there are five weeks in a month and when she asks you if you have lotion just say yes. "But I don't have any lotion." DWAYNE! If you tell them that they will talk you into the $100 lotion! I know how you are. "I am not going tanning it's just too much bullshit." That is Big D's favorite word and he uses it often to end discussions. He uses it for everything. He's had enough of this bullshit...he's sick of this bullshit....he doesn't want anymore of this bullshit...He's done talking about this bullshit! When he starts in with the bullshit the argument is over and he's ready to sit in his chair and eat red meat....Maybe we'll tan tomorrow....
Monday, January 16, 2012
Not To Sound Racist, but....
I am going to Hawaii in three weeks and instead of frying myself into a bad vacation filled with blisters, aloe and SPF85, I decided... against my better judgement... to go tanning...at a tanning salon...full of bubble headed girls working the desk.
I walked into the land of tan and there was no one in sight. I could have raided the place and made off with tons of cheap (I didn't say inexpensive...I said cheap... as in crappy) lotion and all the tiny towels a person would ever need. Instead of committing a felony I called, "Hello?" Two very enthusiastic and very tan girls ran out of the back sipping diet Mountain Dews through twisty straws. One was pretty and had her hair in loose blonde braids...even though she wasn't eight years old. The other girl was painfully unattractive and really wanted to be the blond girl, but God had given her acne, mousy brown hair and thick ankles and no self esteem. She anxiously waited for Blondie to speak so she could nod and express her admiration.
"HI! Welcome to Blue Boxxxx! What's your name?" I told Blondie my name and waited while she searched their secret FBI controlled tanning data base for my name, fingerprints and tanning history. She was so excited when she found out that I did not currently have a tanning plan. She showed me the tanning package and price list sheet that was so complicated that, unless you possessed a degree in higher math, you can't figure out so you finally just point at a plan and hand them a check. She mentioned that since I only wanted to tan for three weeks that I purchase the unlimited month plan. I said I only needed three weeks. She showed me the sound business sense of purchasing the month plan...which was to pay for five weeks. I asked her why it wasn't for four weeks and she explained that their month was five weeks long. I asked if they were on the Mayan calendar...because in our part of the world a month contained four weeks. She exhaled in frustration, rolled her eyes at her unfortunate protege and said: "Our month is five weeks long." I realized that you can't argue with a really tan eight year old so I said, "Just pick the package that will ensure that I look fabulous in shorts and, to her credit, she didn't hand me a Jenny Craig application, just a tanning package." I handed her my credit card and then, much to my surprise I noticed that there was a hefty tax on my five week month of tanning. Blondie told me to thank Obama. "What? Did Barack not want me to be tan?" Blondie then said the most obnoxious words in the english language...."Not to be racist, but...." Those words are always followed by an extremely racist comment. "Obama found a way to stick it to the white people!"
I could not believe it. Here we are in the year 2012 and this young person, who's ignorance was palpable, was spouting racism in a place of business. I told her that stating what she stated was exactly that, racist, ignorant, and no way to converse with customers. Just because you preface a racist statement with an "I'm not racist" disclaimer does not negate the racist comment you are about to make! Did she think that because I was white that she could assume that I felt the same rage against a black president that she felt? I explained to the idiot that the tax was similar to the tax on cigarettes. The tax was based on urging people to make healthy choices. She had no idea what I was talking about. Not only was I totally offended by her ignorance, but it also happened to be the day we celebrate Martin Luther King! Did she see the irony? NO! She would have to know what irony meant and as she showed me earlier...she has no idea how to read a calendar!
I walked into the land of tan and there was no one in sight. I could have raided the place and made off with tons of cheap (I didn't say inexpensive...I said cheap... as in crappy) lotion and all the tiny towels a person would ever need. Instead of committing a felony I called, "Hello?" Two very enthusiastic and very tan girls ran out of the back sipping diet Mountain Dews through twisty straws. One was pretty and had her hair in loose blonde braids...even though she wasn't eight years old. The other girl was painfully unattractive and really wanted to be the blond girl, but God had given her acne, mousy brown hair and thick ankles and no self esteem. She anxiously waited for Blondie to speak so she could nod and express her admiration.
"HI! Welcome to Blue Boxxxx! What's your name?" I told Blondie my name and waited while she searched their secret FBI controlled tanning data base for my name, fingerprints and tanning history. She was so excited when she found out that I did not currently have a tanning plan. She showed me the tanning package and price list sheet that was so complicated that, unless you possessed a degree in higher math, you can't figure out so you finally just point at a plan and hand them a check. She mentioned that since I only wanted to tan for three weeks that I purchase the unlimited month plan. I said I only needed three weeks. She showed me the sound business sense of purchasing the month plan...which was to pay for five weeks. I asked her why it wasn't for four weeks and she explained that their month was five weeks long. I asked if they were on the Mayan calendar...because in our part of the world a month contained four weeks. She exhaled in frustration, rolled her eyes at her unfortunate protege and said: "Our month is five weeks long." I realized that you can't argue with a really tan eight year old so I said, "Just pick the package that will ensure that I look fabulous in shorts and, to her credit, she didn't hand me a Jenny Craig application, just a tanning package." I handed her my credit card and then, much to my surprise I noticed that there was a hefty tax on my five week month of tanning. Blondie told me to thank Obama. "What? Did Barack not want me to be tan?" Blondie then said the most obnoxious words in the english language...."Not to be racist, but...." Those words are always followed by an extremely racist comment. "Obama found a way to stick it to the white people!"
I could not believe it. Here we are in the year 2012 and this young person, who's ignorance was palpable, was spouting racism in a place of business. I told her that stating what she stated was exactly that, racist, ignorant, and no way to converse with customers. Just because you preface a racist statement with an "I'm not racist" disclaimer does not negate the racist comment you are about to make! Did she think that because I was white that she could assume that I felt the same rage against a black president that she felt? I explained to the idiot that the tax was similar to the tax on cigarettes. The tax was based on urging people to make healthy choices. She had no idea what I was talking about. Not only was I totally offended by her ignorance, but it also happened to be the day we celebrate Martin Luther King! Did she see the irony? NO! She would have to know what irony meant and as she showed me earlier...she has no idea how to read a calendar!
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
There's A Squatch Out There!
My newest obsession: "The Search For Big Foot" on Animal Planet. It is hilarious! Three 45 year old virgins, who have been searching for Bigfoot their entire lives, team up with Miss Jane Hathaway, who says she is...okay dresses like... a "scientist" and is the only person on the show who isn't convinced that there is a squatch in them woods....she is also the only one who knows the whereabouts of her dignity. Four idiots travel all over the USA searching for rednecks who swear that they have spotted a Sasquatch...when they were sober....ish. Many have pictures, videos and plaster casts of squatch footprints. What, you don't carry a bag of plaster of paris when you hike? "The wife and I walked into the woods and it was then we seed it. Big, hairy, and shy....jes starin at us and then he ran behind that rise over there. Here's a plaster cast of his foot....see them toes?" Yeah, sure we do Jim Bob, sure we do....now go home and turn them overalls around so they ain't on backwards and we'll put your crazy ass on camera.
Outdoors in a secluded area of a generic forest the four morons talk to the camera...usually in infared. The virgins wear cargo shorts and old batting helmets they stole from a nearby Little League team. They have attached three foot fishing rods to the front of the helmets and on the end of these rods they have attached infared cameras. Duct tape is a beautiful thing. They look like accident victims wearing neck injury halos. I am just waiting for one of them to poke the other's eyes out when they whip around shushing each other. Miss Jane Hathaway usually wears khakies and a shirt with lots of pockets...oh, and she carries a clip board...very official, as she restates her doubts as to the validity of Bigfoot. "I still think that's a picture of a marmoset swinging from that tree." Really? A marmoset? IN VERMONT? Well, you are the scientist.
Whispering so the squatch won't hear them and run away (either that or the squatch is getting ready to putt, either way it's funny) they discuss their game plan; "Bobo and I (No, seriously his name really is Bobo) will take the north flank and you two take the south end." There are numerous shots of them looking around shushing each other with their odd infared eyes and then they say..."WHOA! I think there's a squatch in these woods..." Of course we never see a squatch, nor will we ever see a squatch because the show is called "SEARCHING for Bigfoot" not "FINDING Bigfoot!"
Now, it's time for action! Looking around in their green infared light, trying to squawk and yell like a sasquatch, the group begins to get excited.... I have no idea how they know what a sasquatch sounds like but hey, let's just pretend. They shine the infared into the forest and say, "Hey, I see eyes...and movement!" Of course you see eyes and movement, Rikki Tikki Tavi, you're in the woods...at night!
The best episode was on last night. One group went south and the other group went north. The groups stayed in communication using their official Sasquatch walkie talkies. The south group opened up a canvas bag and pulled out a couple of hinged two by fours and slapped them together one time because "squatches communicate by hitting trees!" The group to the north called south on the walkie talking and said: "We just heard a squatch bang a tree! It sounded like it was in your direction!!" The north group then whistled "like a squatch" and the south called them and said;"We just heard a squatch whistle! I think it is near you!!" These idiots went on like this for thirty minutes! I kept waiting for them to run into each other.
Why do I watch? I love this crap! Three social misfits, who spent their childhood sketching Bigfoot in their spiral notebooks during math class found a "scientist" with a vagina who would actually spend time with them, making it big in Hollywood...okay, basic cable, but it's a start!
Outdoors in a secluded area of a generic forest the four morons talk to the camera...usually in infared. The virgins wear cargo shorts and old batting helmets they stole from a nearby Little League team. They have attached three foot fishing rods to the front of the helmets and on the end of these rods they have attached infared cameras. Duct tape is a beautiful thing. They look like accident victims wearing neck injury halos. I am just waiting for one of them to poke the other's eyes out when they whip around shushing each other. Miss Jane Hathaway usually wears khakies and a shirt with lots of pockets...oh, and she carries a clip board...very official, as she restates her doubts as to the validity of Bigfoot. "I still think that's a picture of a marmoset swinging from that tree." Really? A marmoset? IN VERMONT? Well, you are the scientist.
Whispering so the squatch won't hear them and run away (either that or the squatch is getting ready to putt, either way it's funny) they discuss their game plan; "Bobo and I (No, seriously his name really is Bobo) will take the north flank and you two take the south end." There are numerous shots of them looking around shushing each other with their odd infared eyes and then they say..."WHOA! I think there's a squatch in these woods..." Of course we never see a squatch, nor will we ever see a squatch because the show is called "SEARCHING for Bigfoot" not "FINDING Bigfoot!"
Now, it's time for action! Looking around in their green infared light, trying to squawk and yell like a sasquatch, the group begins to get excited.... I have no idea how they know what a sasquatch sounds like but hey, let's just pretend. They shine the infared into the forest and say, "Hey, I see eyes...and movement!" Of course you see eyes and movement, Rikki Tikki Tavi, you're in the woods...at night!
The best episode was on last night. One group went south and the other group went north. The groups stayed in communication using their official Sasquatch walkie talkies. The south group opened up a canvas bag and pulled out a couple of hinged two by fours and slapped them together one time because "squatches communicate by hitting trees!" The group to the north called south on the walkie talking and said: "We just heard a squatch bang a tree! It sounded like it was in your direction!!" The north group then whistled "like a squatch" and the south called them and said;"We just heard a squatch whistle! I think it is near you!!" These idiots went on like this for thirty minutes! I kept waiting for them to run into each other.
Why do I watch? I love this crap! Three social misfits, who spent their childhood sketching Bigfoot in their spiral notebooks during math class found a "scientist" with a vagina who would actually spend time with them, making it big in Hollywood...okay, basic cable, but it's a start!
Sunday, January 8, 2012
I need to lose 500 pounds by February 11th
Yeah, I said it....I need to lose 500 pounds in six weeks. We are going to Hawaii on a dream vaca and I have gained 40 lbs in the past year. HELP! I'm going to Hawaii and I will have to wear a mumu! I have no idea why I have not gotten with the program and exercised and eaten healthy and...do I smell brownies? What was I talking about? Oh yeah, eating healthy. I need to walk my five miles a day like I did until I realized how much fun it was to sit on my ample ass on our soft velvety sectional and facebook stalk, check pinterist and watch TV at the same time. I am also hooked on a hilarious blog called Dlisted.com. Dlisted is not for the prude or feint of heart or for those who are easily offended but that dude phrases things so hilariously that I think we were separated at birth.
As for Pinterest...I do love the recipes, etc, but seriously, it is way too nicey-nice for me. Check my nicey-nice blog entry to find out how much I hate nice....ness? I cannot be as nice as Pinterest wants me to be so I may get blacklisted. This past December some idiot posted a picture of a newborn baby in a glass vase full of candy canes and everyone was ooing and aweing over how "cute" that picture was and I wanted to call Child Protective Services on that idiot! A baby in a glass vase...full of candy??? I just kept picturing broken glass and bloody candy canes...so I wrote that as my comment. Well, as you may suspect, the pinterest loving, cross stitching, pinboard obsessed, cookie baking, school teachers were so offended by my comments and mentioned that the pic was photoshopped...ummmm, whatever! That could have been a real baby shoved in a thin glass vase full of sugary treats! How the heck did I know it was photoshopped? I was just trying to be a good citizen!
Last week some fashion impaired dweeb pinned a picture of light blue"capelett" and loved it. A capelett? Is capelette even a word? To begin with I have an aversion to anything that ends in -ette. It is usually an abbreviated version of something that wasn't that wonderful to begin with and you will be disappointed. Anyway, a CAPELETTE? A cape indicates one of two things: You are (or think you are) a superhero or you are a field nurse in WWII. Nobody needs a capelette...ever.
I have begun to seek out stupid pins and make rude comments to the pinners (who I have never met) just for my own entertainment. Stop pinning puppies and kittens and writing, "awe" under them! really? Puppies and kittens? That's all ya got? I almost miss the sadistic chick who was blacklisted for pinning self mutilation pics of lesbian sadists and vampire wannabes! At least she had a vision!
Wait, wasn't I talking about my weight loss program? I need to get back on topic. I wish I could be a bulimic. I have the bingeing part down, but barfing is just too much work. First you have to shop at a big box store to get the enormous bags of Oreos and Doritos, schlep them up two flights of stairs, and then you have to binge, and then you have to barf and then you have to clean the bathroom. There are way too many steps to follow. I draw the line at cleaning the bathroom.
Anorexia is out of the question too. That takes commitment and planning and suffering and I just don't have that much self hatred going for me. I may be chubbin' out, but I don't want my organs to start failing. I may have some chocolate chips hidden in the house somewhere and I need the strength to find them! Priorities, people!
As for Pinterest...I do love the recipes, etc, but seriously, it is way too nicey-nice for me. Check my nicey-nice blog entry to find out how much I hate nice....ness? I cannot be as nice as Pinterest wants me to be so I may get blacklisted. This past December some idiot posted a picture of a newborn baby in a glass vase full of candy canes and everyone was ooing and aweing over how "cute" that picture was and I wanted to call Child Protective Services on that idiot! A baby in a glass vase...full of candy??? I just kept picturing broken glass and bloody candy canes...so I wrote that as my comment. Well, as you may suspect, the pinterest loving, cross stitching, pinboard obsessed, cookie baking, school teachers were so offended by my comments and mentioned that the pic was photoshopped...ummmm, whatever! That could have been a real baby shoved in a thin glass vase full of sugary treats! How the heck did I know it was photoshopped? I was just trying to be a good citizen!
Last week some fashion impaired dweeb pinned a picture of light blue"capelett" and loved it. A capelett? Is capelette even a word? To begin with I have an aversion to anything that ends in -ette. It is usually an abbreviated version of something that wasn't that wonderful to begin with and you will be disappointed. Anyway, a CAPELETTE? A cape indicates one of two things: You are (or think you are) a superhero or you are a field nurse in WWII. Nobody needs a capelette...ever.
I have begun to seek out stupid pins and make rude comments to the pinners (who I have never met) just for my own entertainment. Stop pinning puppies and kittens and writing, "awe" under them! really? Puppies and kittens? That's all ya got? I almost miss the sadistic chick who was blacklisted for pinning self mutilation pics of lesbian sadists and vampire wannabes! At least she had a vision!
Wait, wasn't I talking about my weight loss program? I need to get back on topic. I wish I could be a bulimic. I have the bingeing part down, but barfing is just too much work. First you have to shop at a big box store to get the enormous bags of Oreos and Doritos, schlep them up two flights of stairs, and then you have to binge, and then you have to barf and then you have to clean the bathroom. There are way too many steps to follow. I draw the line at cleaning the bathroom.
Anorexia is out of the question too. That takes commitment and planning and suffering and I just don't have that much self hatred going for me. I may be chubbin' out, but I don't want my organs to start failing. I may have some chocolate chips hidden in the house somewhere and I need the strength to find them! Priorities, people!
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