Thursday, May 28, 2009
Jon and Kate
I wish people would lay the hell off Jon and Kate (of Jon and Kate Plus 8). Seriously people, have you walked a day in their shoes? REALLY?! No you haven't so shut your God damn mouths. They are in a shitty situation right now. Life sucks for them and they need to deal with it. Do they stand a chance? If people quit throwing stones from their fucking glass houses they do. Fans and the media are so God damn quick to judge and quick to criticize how they operate. I think most of us would JUMP at the opportunity to make as much money as they do for a TV show. If you think, "No way! I wouldn't exploit my kids, I wouldn't sacrifice my relationship, I wouldn't...blah, blah, blah." Shut up because if you were told you would get $25-$75,000 G's for each God damn episode you filmed of your everyday family life you KNOW you would do it. And if you are sitting there right now, all self-righteous and pious saying, "I would NEVER exploit my family like that. I have decent morals and family values!" you are a fucking lying sack of shit. That's life-changing money, baby. And so fucking what if Kate works out a lot to maintain her physique? So fucking what if she goes tanning? She looks GOOD. A mommy who feels good about herself is not selfish, she is confident and a better mom to her kids. So WHAT if she occasionally spanks her kids? She has EIGHT of them, for Christ's sake. I have been known to swat my kids and I have a mere TWO. Kids talk back and act spoiled and don't listen. Time outs only work for so long, folks. I would probably stand in line to wash Cara and Mady's mouths out with soap because they are way too damn sassy for their own good. All these bitches who have worked for the Gosselin's who are now coming forward to report of Kate's disciplining skills can fuck off. Funny how she was a fine parent when she was a mother of 8 busy kids. Now she and her hubby are on more tabloid covers than Brangelina, Britney, and Jen Aniston combined and SUDDENLY you need to tell all about how Kate spanked one of the kids. Fuck off, you trailer park loser. Got your $500 for that story and you'll blow it all at the mall on your own 5 kids with 3 different baby daddies. I don't really know why I'm so angry about this, I'm just really rooting for them and don't buy all the media bullshit that's being plastered all over every Us, People, and every other trashy rag in town. You work it out, Jon and Kate, I am on your side and fuck the bitches who aren't!!!!!!!!!!!
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Having a Vagina Is a Bummer
Being a female after puberty pretty much sucks. We get our monthly "visitor" and deal with it once a God damn month EVERY month unless we are knocked up or post-menopausal. In some countries women are banished from praying or participating in daily activities during that "time of the month". I've heard men joke that anything that bleeds for 7 days straight and doesn't die is not to be trusted. Well excuse the fuck out of me, gender with a sausage hanging between your legs. My uterus, though often crampy and annoying, is neatly tucked inside my body like a little cave of wonder. Your junk is just all OUT THERE and dangling around like a lonely rope swing in the jungle. And when it gets hot outside or when you are doing something active, isn't it annoying?! Doesn't it stick to your leg like a sad, half-deflated balloon, all swampy and sad? I suppose that's why you are always itching and grabbing down there. A hand is more acceptable than whipping out a spatula to dislodge your sack. I am glad I do not have a dick. When you are "happy" there's no hiding it. It's out there with reckless abandon for the world to behold. If we are feeling amorous at least we can disguise it better. We just might hike our skirt or rub up against you like a Persian cat. You just turn into boner stabbers. There's nothing subtle about that, boys.
When we "become women" it can be darn right gross and confusing. You want me to stick this wad of cotton on a string WHERE exactly?! I don't fucking think so. So we suffer through wearing those God damn pads. They are about the grossest things you can stick in your pants, aside from maybe a steamer-loaded Depend. As a young lady trying to deal with being a young teen and having to deal with a period, it is a pain in the ass. You have days where you don't quite get the pad adhered to the right spot in your panties and you have a bleed-out in your white jeans. Lesson #1: Do not wear white pants when you are flowing like the Mississippi. You have a day when you think wearing a pad with a thong or a leotard is a good idea. Lesson #2: Please just buck up and try a tampon when wearing a thong, leotard, or bathing suit. It is a lose/lose situation to have your maxi pad peeking out like a slice of strawberry pound cake as you pull off that triple pirouette. A tampon can be as absorbent as the ShamWow but it does have its limits. Please change frequently or you will look like you have a penis-looking lump poking out from your cooch. Lesson #3: Change your tampon, especially at the pool because that innocent looking cotton Christmas ornament will suck up chlorinated pool water till you are straddling a Nerf football on a string. So much to learn, young menstruating Jedi masters. Eager to learn and messy are you...
Having a uterus means you have the potential for being a baby factory. Your belly grows like several pounds of dough proofing in a bowl. But instead you have to buy giant pants with a special panel in the front to secure your Enormo-Gut. People touch you, ask when you will "pop", comment indiscreetly about how much weight you've gained. Fuckers. After 9 plus months of waddling around like a Weeble Wobble and not being able to see your pussy, you get the sheer bliss of the most horrific pain you can ever imagine then if you are lucky, you get to shoot this little bundle of mucus-covered joy from your love box. My grandma once said having a baby is like crapping a watermelon. Profoundly true. I highly advise against standing over a mirror the day after baby has made its way into the world. It is like the Grand Canyon of pastrami. Makes you wonder, "Now what in the HELL did it look like before?!.."
In the gender apparatus debate I am voting women win hands down. Despite the bleeding and birthing, I can't imagine how annoying a dick between my legs would be, no offense. Still, there are days when having a vagina can be a bummer. But having a schlong trouser snake is worse, I reckon. I'll stick with the secret poon cave any day. Much more discreet.
When we "become women" it can be darn right gross and confusing. You want me to stick this wad of cotton on a string WHERE exactly?! I don't fucking think so. So we suffer through wearing those God damn pads. They are about the grossest things you can stick in your pants, aside from maybe a steamer-loaded Depend. As a young lady trying to deal with being a young teen and having to deal with a period, it is a pain in the ass. You have days where you don't quite get the pad adhered to the right spot in your panties and you have a bleed-out in your white jeans. Lesson #1: Do not wear white pants when you are flowing like the Mississippi. You have a day when you think wearing a pad with a thong or a leotard is a good idea. Lesson #2: Please just buck up and try a tampon when wearing a thong, leotard, or bathing suit. It is a lose/lose situation to have your maxi pad peeking out like a slice of strawberry pound cake as you pull off that triple pirouette. A tampon can be as absorbent as the ShamWow but it does have its limits. Please change frequently or you will look like you have a penis-looking lump poking out from your cooch. Lesson #3: Change your tampon, especially at the pool because that innocent looking cotton Christmas ornament will suck up chlorinated pool water till you are straddling a Nerf football on a string. So much to learn, young menstruating Jedi masters. Eager to learn and messy are you...
Having a uterus means you have the potential for being a baby factory. Your belly grows like several pounds of dough proofing in a bowl. But instead you have to buy giant pants with a special panel in the front to secure your Enormo-Gut. People touch you, ask when you will "pop", comment indiscreetly about how much weight you've gained. Fuckers. After 9 plus months of waddling around like a Weeble Wobble and not being able to see your pussy, you get the sheer bliss of the most horrific pain you can ever imagine then if you are lucky, you get to shoot this little bundle of mucus-covered joy from your love box. My grandma once said having a baby is like crapping a watermelon. Profoundly true. I highly advise against standing over a mirror the day after baby has made its way into the world. It is like the Grand Canyon of pastrami. Makes you wonder, "Now what in the HELL did it look like before?!.."
In the gender apparatus debate I am voting women win hands down. Despite the bleeding and birthing, I can't imagine how annoying a dick between my legs would be, no offense. Still, there are days when having a vagina can be a bummer. But having a schlong trouser snake is worse, I reckon. I'll stick with the secret poon cave any day. Much more discreet.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Sudden Fashionista
Well it has officially happened. My precocious, goofy, studious 9 year-old daughter who has cared less about what I pick out for her each morning (as long as it's not--GOD FORBID!!!--a dress!) suddenly gives a rat's ass. I knew it was merely a matter of time and many fellow moms were shocked it has not happened sooner. She is not requesting Hollister or Aeropostale just yet but it's as if I have leprosy and am missing a limb when I try to pass off a Children's Place outfit.
"MOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMM!! That doesn't even GO together.. It's just not cute, no offense."
Yeah, no offense since I'm the one buying it. Let's see how much you like the Walmart clearance rack, camouflage overall ensemble I picked out for you...
I can recall how much I enjoyed having new, fashionable clothes. I don't remember really giving a damn till maybe 5th grade? My daughter's only in third grade so I thought I was buying some time here.. I went to a catholic school so uniforms were de rigeur for the school year. When we had a "color day" I would be so super excited to wear my new Esprit checkered pants and brightly colored t-shirt. I looked like Boogaloo Shrimp from the movie "Breakin'". In high school I thought it was bad-ass as hell to not wear the same outfit twice for as long as I could. I think my record was 32 days. So far Sophie does not seem to notice if I pass off the same capris twice a week. Sshhh!! Don't tell her....
So currently it is ALL about the peace sign. She has no less than 5 pairs of peace sign earrings, peace sign tank tops and t-shirts, peace sign sandals and flip flops, and even a couple of peace sign scarves. If she suddenly decides it's all about flowers or stars or no symbols at all she can have some masking tape and a Sharpie. My mad creative skills can drum up a sassy themed hoodie just as good as Justice. Probably for about $30 less, too. Justice is "Peace Sign Mecca" currently and I have made the pilgrimage many times to acquire more stuff for my little diva.
She has decided that taking a shower at night is preferred. This rarely happens because it is like pulling an obese kid away from a smoked turkey leg and a Spongebob marathon to make her stop looking at the computer. {As I type this she is mesmerized by a movie which she knows is freakin' TIVO'D so we can replay it.} I now have to blow dry her hair with a round brush with a special straightening cream from my salon. This kid's hair is so thick she could donate it to make 3 wigs for Locks of Love. (Read: a long-ass time blow drying...) When the "poofy parts" and "dumb curls" are sufficiently absent from her mane she is ready. There must be coordinating earrings and socks and sometimes even bracelets. She does not care for makeup (yet) but is still wanting to wear deodorant. I tell her if she doesn't stink, don't wear it. Instead we thought it was a nice compromise to buy some girly Mary Kate and Ashley perfume. I have to monitor perfume application because it can quickly smell like a trashy girl bonanza.. or probably what Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen smell like every day.
Along with the straight luscious locks, coordinating top, shrug, scarf, earrings, capris, sandals, and hair clip there is the most righteous accessory---the pre-teen eye roll. It is nothing you can buy but it is something that gets more and more perfected daily. The eye roll is often accompanied by a highly audible gust of air with a resounding, "Guaaahhhhh!" Occasionally I am privy to foot stomping, door slamming, sister pushing, and the inevitable "MooooOOOOMMMMMM!!!" The bitchy, whiney tone is so incredibly annoying. I feel like a dog being tortured by a high pitch dog whistle. If I am really, REALLY lucky I get the ,"You are SOOO mean!" or ,"You are ruining my life!", or "You HATE me!" or the ultimate, "I HATE you!!" Such special moments should be commemorated by one of those Hallmark cards that cost $7 and plays a song or a funny joke. But I doubt anyone would buy one of my daughter whining about how much I make her so mad. Unless there was a peace sign on the front, then maybe it would be cool.
Shit, it's nightly shower time. My night job as mommy stylist beckons. Where's my straightening cream? I am not getting paid nearly enough for this gig.
"MOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMM!! That doesn't even GO together.. It's just not cute, no offense."
Yeah, no offense since I'm the one buying it. Let's see how much you like the Walmart clearance rack, camouflage overall ensemble I picked out for you...
I can recall how much I enjoyed having new, fashionable clothes. I don't remember really giving a damn till maybe 5th grade? My daughter's only in third grade so I thought I was buying some time here.. I went to a catholic school so uniforms were de rigeur for the school year. When we had a "color day" I would be so super excited to wear my new Esprit checkered pants and brightly colored t-shirt. I looked like Boogaloo Shrimp from the movie "Breakin'". In high school I thought it was bad-ass as hell to not wear the same outfit twice for as long as I could. I think my record was 32 days. So far Sophie does not seem to notice if I pass off the same capris twice a week. Sshhh!! Don't tell her....
So currently it is ALL about the peace sign. She has no less than 5 pairs of peace sign earrings, peace sign tank tops and t-shirts, peace sign sandals and flip flops, and even a couple of peace sign scarves. If she suddenly decides it's all about flowers or stars or no symbols at all she can have some masking tape and a Sharpie. My mad creative skills can drum up a sassy themed hoodie just as good as Justice. Probably for about $30 less, too. Justice is "Peace Sign Mecca" currently and I have made the pilgrimage many times to acquire more stuff for my little diva.
She has decided that taking a shower at night is preferred. This rarely happens because it is like pulling an obese kid away from a smoked turkey leg and a Spongebob marathon to make her stop looking at the computer. {As I type this she is mesmerized by a movie which she knows is freakin' TIVO'D so we can replay it.} I now have to blow dry her hair with a round brush with a special straightening cream from my salon. This kid's hair is so thick she could donate it to make 3 wigs for Locks of Love. (Read: a long-ass time blow drying...) When the "poofy parts" and "dumb curls" are sufficiently absent from her mane she is ready. There must be coordinating earrings and socks and sometimes even bracelets. She does not care for makeup (yet) but is still wanting to wear deodorant. I tell her if she doesn't stink, don't wear it. Instead we thought it was a nice compromise to buy some girly Mary Kate and Ashley perfume. I have to monitor perfume application because it can quickly smell like a trashy girl bonanza.. or probably what Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen smell like every day.
Along with the straight luscious locks, coordinating top, shrug, scarf, earrings, capris, sandals, and hair clip there is the most righteous accessory---the pre-teen eye roll. It is nothing you can buy but it is something that gets more and more perfected daily. The eye roll is often accompanied by a highly audible gust of air with a resounding, "Guaaahhhhh!" Occasionally I am privy to foot stomping, door slamming, sister pushing, and the inevitable "MooooOOOOMMMMMM!!!" The bitchy, whiney tone is so incredibly annoying. I feel like a dog being tortured by a high pitch dog whistle. If I am really, REALLY lucky I get the ,"You are SOOO mean!" or ,"You are ruining my life!", or "You HATE me!" or the ultimate, "I HATE you!!" Such special moments should be commemorated by one of those Hallmark cards that cost $7 and plays a song or a funny joke. But I doubt anyone would buy one of my daughter whining about how much I make her so mad. Unless there was a peace sign on the front, then maybe it would be cool.
Shit, it's nightly shower time. My night job as mommy stylist beckons. Where's my straightening cream? I am not getting paid nearly enough for this gig.
Wardrobe Malfunction
Britney Spears might need to rethink who her peeps are. I'm guessing there are some haters who hang with her as her crew and back-up dancers. The only reason I speculate this is because the poor dear went onstage for a typical pelvic-thrusting, open-legged gyration extravaganza on her tour. Trouble is she forgot to hide a piece of her "womanly attire" and no one bothered to tell her until it was blasted all over YouTube. Britney flashed her dangling tampon string for all of her screaming fans to see. You KNOW at least one or two of those dancers were backstage and saw it.
"Yo', Miss THANG'S string is hanging out!!"
"Sheeeiit! NASTY!... I ain't tellin' her.."
"Fuck it..me neither.. Let's see who's the bitch NOW!"
There is just polite etiquette I think most of us would use in letting a friend, acquaintance, or even stranger know that something is awry. A booger dangling from your schnoz. A piece of spinach stuck between your front teeth. Your skirt tucked up into your panties so your entire left ass cheek is exposed. (Okay that one I might let the person feel the breeze a bit before alerting them to their exposure. I saw an older woman do that and it was funny as shit..) There is nothing more annoying than walking around half the day and finally looking in the mirror and realizing you look like your French-kissed a salad bar. Throw me a freakin' bone here, people!!! A little, "Hey, you got a little something in there.." or "How about a toothpick?" would be nice. Instead I am wearing spinach dentures and you're all getting your kicks from my lack of dental hygiene. Priceless.
What sparked this banter, other than Miss Britney's Playtex String of Wonder dangling, was a visit to my dentist today. He poked and scraped and cleaned and flossed and cleaned my choppers again with that grainy paste that never quite rinses out with that teaspoon squirt of water he shoots in there. I had my blue paper bib on and chatted in between having obscure panels of bite wings jammed into my gums for x-rays. I talked to my dentist and then the receptionist for a few minutes even after my exam. Plenty of time for them to point my schmutz out to me. I stopped through the Starbuck's drive-through for my venti iced coffee and shared polite banter with a barista. Off to Justice I went to buy clothes for the kids with my coupon I miraculously remembered to bring. I talked to no less than three sales associates and four customers (I am a friendly bitch, especially when heavily caffeinated). I asked where the "potty" was (I'm a mom so it's okay to talk like that) and they kindly escorted me to the back room. Upon washing my hands I noticed three giant globules of bright blue minty dentist toothpaste on my cheek and a nice smear on my chin. Hello, Justice sales twats, could you please let me know I look like I'm some crazed bulimic working in the bakery glomming mouthfuls of buttercream frosting on my cupcake icing shift?! Nope. Even though they saw the looming pile of shit I was about to purchase. REALLY?! I wiped the offending toothpaste off my face and made my purchase hastily. I know they were laughing at me. Dirty suburban mom who can't even wash her face.
I don't think I'll ever have a Tara Reid moment where my fresh-from-surgery fun-bag is left to the paparazzi's disposal as my sequin chemise slides off my nipple and in my Vicodin and vodka haze it takes three assistants for me to cover my nip back up. Or who can forget Janet Jackson and Mr. Justin Timberlake at the Superbowl? That was no "wardrobe malfunction". If my shirt ACCIDENTALLY got brushed open by a certain Justin Timblerlake and my dinner plate-sized areola conventiently was bedazzled with a humungous star shaped nipple ring, that's called MEDIA BUZZ FOR A HAS-BEEN POP STAR. C'mon, Janet, you're better than that.
All I'm saying is unless it's some bitch who fired you for photocopying your poon at the office Christmas party or the 21 year-old "secretarial assistant" who doesn't wear a bra and likes to type memos for your hubby at work, then tell us poor souls our shit ain't right! I am serious. It is not embarrassing. It's 100 times MORE embarrassing to discover it later. Tell us to pop that disgusting fucking back zit. Here's a God damn toothpick, did you eat an entire corn field?! You've got something {huge and fucking nasty} on your face. Your hair is sticking up like a Chewbacca boner. You have a giant period stain on your dress, here's my sweatshirt. Have one of my Tuck's medicated ass-wipes because I think you just shit your pants. You have a jiz goatee, please use this Kleenex. There, was that so hard? By the way, you have some spinach in your teeth...
"Yo', Miss THANG'S string is hanging out!!"
"Sheeeiit! NASTY!... I ain't tellin' her.."
"Fuck it..me neither.. Let's see who's the bitch NOW!"
There is just polite etiquette I think most of us would use in letting a friend, acquaintance, or even stranger know that something is awry. A booger dangling from your schnoz. A piece of spinach stuck between your front teeth. Your skirt tucked up into your panties so your entire left ass cheek is exposed. (Okay that one I might let the person feel the breeze a bit before alerting them to their exposure. I saw an older woman do that and it was funny as shit..) There is nothing more annoying than walking around half the day and finally looking in the mirror and realizing you look like your French-kissed a salad bar. Throw me a freakin' bone here, people!!! A little, "Hey, you got a little something in there.." or "How about a toothpick?" would be nice. Instead I am wearing spinach dentures and you're all getting your kicks from my lack of dental hygiene. Priceless.
What sparked this banter, other than Miss Britney's Playtex String of Wonder dangling, was a visit to my dentist today. He poked and scraped and cleaned and flossed and cleaned my choppers again with that grainy paste that never quite rinses out with that teaspoon squirt of water he shoots in there. I had my blue paper bib on and chatted in between having obscure panels of bite wings jammed into my gums for x-rays. I talked to my dentist and then the receptionist for a few minutes even after my exam. Plenty of time for them to point my schmutz out to me. I stopped through the Starbuck's drive-through for my venti iced coffee and shared polite banter with a barista. Off to Justice I went to buy clothes for the kids with my coupon I miraculously remembered to bring. I talked to no less than three sales associates and four customers (I am a friendly bitch, especially when heavily caffeinated). I asked where the "potty" was (I'm a mom so it's okay to talk like that) and they kindly escorted me to the back room. Upon washing my hands I noticed three giant globules of bright blue minty dentist toothpaste on my cheek and a nice smear on my chin. Hello, Justice sales twats, could you please let me know I look like I'm some crazed bulimic working in the bakery glomming mouthfuls of buttercream frosting on my cupcake icing shift?! Nope. Even though they saw the looming pile of shit I was about to purchase. REALLY?! I wiped the offending toothpaste off my face and made my purchase hastily. I know they were laughing at me. Dirty suburban mom who can't even wash her face.
I don't think I'll ever have a Tara Reid moment where my fresh-from-surgery fun-bag is left to the paparazzi's disposal as my sequin chemise slides off my nipple and in my Vicodin and vodka haze it takes three assistants for me to cover my nip back up. Or who can forget Janet Jackson and Mr. Justin Timberlake at the Superbowl? That was no "wardrobe malfunction". If my shirt ACCIDENTALLY got brushed open by a certain Justin Timblerlake and my dinner plate-sized areola conventiently was bedazzled with a humungous star shaped nipple ring, that's called MEDIA BUZZ FOR A HAS-BEEN POP STAR. C'mon, Janet, you're better than that.
All I'm saying is unless it's some bitch who fired you for photocopying your poon at the office Christmas party or the 21 year-old "secretarial assistant" who doesn't wear a bra and likes to type memos for your hubby at work, then tell us poor souls our shit ain't right! I am serious. It is not embarrassing. It's 100 times MORE embarrassing to discover it later. Tell us to pop that disgusting fucking back zit. Here's a God damn toothpick, did you eat an entire corn field?! You've got something {huge and fucking nasty} on your face. Your hair is sticking up like a Chewbacca boner. You have a giant period stain on your dress, here's my sweatshirt. Have one of my Tuck's medicated ass-wipes because I think you just shit your pants. You have a jiz goatee, please use this Kleenex. There, was that so hard? By the way, you have some spinach in your teeth...
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