Dear Charles Darwin,
Please accept my formal resignation. I'm afraid I have to defect from the club.
It's not that I don't believe, it's just that evidence to the contrary seems....abundant.
No offense.
I really thought you really had it nailed, but then I walked outside and...WTF?
CLEARLY, you appear to have been mistaken.
It was a good theory though, and MAD props to you for thinking of it....better luck next time.
Sincerely,
Me
Thursday, August 29, 2013
Monday, August 19, 2013
Dear People for Whom I Am Housesitting...
Many interesting things happened whilst you were gone (none of which demonstrate irresponsibility on my part) including, but not limited to:
1) I fed & watered your Black Labrador Retriever, Rosie.
2) My Shih Tzu ate some of her own poo (and maybe Rosie's too...it's hard to tell, but nonetheless your yard is FREE of poo...you're welcome).
3) I learned how to...make AWESOME homemade pizza.
4) I accidentally set fire to some pizza dough in your oven (you really should check the batteries in your smoke detectors…no reason, just a feeling I have…that maybe you should do that, but not because of flame or smoke or anything)
5) I ate some really awesome homemade pizza
6) Rosie ate nothing but the dog food that I was supposed to provide for her and did NOT get diarrhea from eating burned pizza dough because she ONLY ate her own dog food which I gave her as instructed.
7) I slept on your couch and received 22 different bites on my person from some unknown/unseen blood sucking insect that may or may not be bedbugs or mosquitos or fleas or whatever else might be hiding in your couch that is NOT spiders because THAT would be gross.
8) Rosie ate a pair of my socks which have yet to come out her nether region so I'm gonna need to ask you to let me know if those show up. (seriously, those were $4 socks so...)
9) Also, I may have forgotten to flush one (or all) of the toilets before I left (some of which were full when I arrived....no judgement, just sayin).
1) I fed & watered your Black Labrador Retriever, Rosie.
2) My Shih Tzu ate some of her own poo (and maybe Rosie's too...it's hard to tell, but nonetheless your yard is FREE of poo...you're welcome).
3) I learned how to...make AWESOME homemade pizza.
4) I accidentally set fire to some pizza dough in your oven (you really should check the batteries in your smoke detectors…no reason, just a feeling I have…that maybe you should do that, but not because of flame or smoke or anything)
5) I ate some really awesome homemade pizza
6) Rosie ate nothing but the dog food that I was supposed to provide for her and did NOT get diarrhea from eating burned pizza dough because she ONLY ate her own dog food which I gave her as instructed.
7) I slept on your couch and received 22 different bites on my person from some unknown/unseen blood sucking insect that may or may not be bedbugs or mosquitos or fleas or whatever else might be hiding in your couch that is NOT spiders because THAT would be gross.
8) Rosie ate a pair of my socks which have yet to come out her nether region so I'm gonna need to ask you to let me know if those show up. (seriously, those were $4 socks so...)
9) Also, I may have forgotten to flush one (or all) of the toilets before I left (some of which were full when I arrived....no judgement, just sayin).
Wednesday, August 14, 2013
WTF Wednesdays: Why I should not be allowed to talk to children.
Ahhhh, Summer. The time of year when my sister allows me to take her children out of the house unsupervised.
whoops.
Recently, my 13 year-old nephew and I hopped in the car and began our drive across town.
That's right about where things went....awry.
My nephew spotted a large pick-up truck with a cooler, a chair and a baby stroller strapped to the bed.
Nephew: Hey look at that truck!
Me: What?
Nephew: It has a stroller in the back...that's not very manly.
Me: I don't know...I think that's sexy. It's very manly to be a good dad....
Nephew: (no response)
Me: Or he's a pedophile and that's gross.
Nephew: What's a pedophile?
Me: someone who abuses children sexually and that's illegal.
Nephew: No, no, no. STOP!
Me: What?
Nephew: Just stop.
Me: How do you not know what a pedophile is?
Nephew: STOP
Me: Does your mother, like, talk to you at all, EVER?
Nephew: No Mimi...
Me: You're like, thirteen now right?
Nephew: I don't know these things.
Me: Well, that's just weird.
Nephew: NO. Stop.
Me: Well...
*awkward silence*
Me: I mean, you asked.
Nephew: I know. I changed my mind.
*longer, even more awkward silence*
Me: I mean, you should know by now not-
Nephew: I know, I know, don't ask Mimi anything. *DRAMATIC, EXASPERATED EYE ROLL*
Me: Whatevs dude. Don't blame me for pedophilia...
WTF.
whoops.
Recently, my 13 year-old nephew and I hopped in the car and began our drive across town.
That's right about where things went....awry.
My nephew spotted a large pick-up truck with a cooler, a chair and a baby stroller strapped to the bed.
Nephew: Hey look at that truck!
Me: What?
Nephew: It has a stroller in the back...that's not very manly.
Me: I don't know...I think that's sexy. It's very manly to be a good dad....
Nephew: (no response)
Me: Or he's a pedophile and that's gross.
Nephew: What's a pedophile?
Me: someone who abuses children sexually and that's illegal.
Nephew: No, no, no. STOP!
Me: What?
Nephew: Just stop.
Me: How do you not know what a pedophile is?
Nephew: STOP
Me: Does your mother, like, talk to you at all, EVER?
Nephew: No Mimi...
Me: You're like, thirteen now right?
Nephew: I don't know these things.
Me: Well, that's just weird.
Nephew: NO. Stop.
Me: Well...
*awkward silence*
Me: I mean, you asked.
Nephew: I know. I changed my mind.
*longer, even more awkward silence*
Me: I mean, you should know by now not-
Nephew: I know, I know, don't ask Mimi anything. *DRAMATIC, EXASPERATED EYE ROLL*
Me: Whatevs dude. Don't blame me for pedophilia...
WTF.
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
Friday, August 9, 2013
Good Luck Unborn Baby...GOOD LUCK.
Dear Future (Hypothetical) Unborn Baby,
YOU ARE FUCKED.
I'm sorry.
First of all, at this point I'm pretty convinced that I'm going to have to PAY somebody to make you happen and, historically speaking, I've not demonstrated that I'm very good at financial planning so that makes your manifestation slightly less likely....
Although, in fairness, only a teeny weeny bit less likely than the traditional manner of procreation (ie; finding a lovely boy to willingly marry then subsequently impregnate me) which is extremely unlikely at this point so...I guess, basically...
GOOD LUCK ON YOUR EXISTENCE.
Secondly, I know I'm supposed to be all, like,
Buuuuuut...the truth is I have been drinking way too much wine and eating way too much of the produce that is "on sale" as opposed to that which is labeled "organic" (that is, when i eat produce at ALL as opposed to subsisting exclusively on wine and hummus), so.....OOPS.
Lastly, I suspect there's an undiagnosed "crazy" gene running prominently through our family tree (see here, here and here for examples) sooooo...
Yeah.
Good luck.
YOU ARE FUCKED.
I'm sorry.
First of all, at this point I'm pretty convinced that I'm going to have to PAY somebody to make you happen and, historically speaking, I've not demonstrated that I'm very good at financial planning so that makes your manifestation slightly less likely....
Although, in fairness, only a teeny weeny bit less likely than the traditional manner of procreation (ie; finding a lovely boy to willingly marry then subsequently impregnate me) which is extremely unlikely at this point so...I guess, basically...
GOOD LUCK ON YOUR EXISTENCE.
Secondly, I know I'm supposed to be all, like,
"oh ovaries, I shall feed you nothing but organic produce and do lots of Yoga and think happy, peaceful thoughts until I am ready to use your follicles!"
Buuuuuut...the truth is I have been drinking way too much wine and eating way too much of the produce that is "on sale" as opposed to that which is labeled "organic" (that is, when i eat produce at ALL as opposed to subsisting exclusively on wine and hummus), so.....OOPS.
Lastly, I suspect there's an undiagnosed "crazy" gene running prominently through our family tree (see here, here and here for examples) sooooo...
Yeah.
Good luck.
Tuesday, August 6, 2013
Texty Tuesdays: Firecrotch & Ratchets
Welcome to Texy Tuesdays! Posts in which I copy onto this here blog actual, REAL text conversations that occurred between myself and my sister, Meg...These conversations are real-despite what you may think after reading them such as, "what?! THAT didn't happen...and even if it did, there's no way anyone in their RIGHT MIND would post that on the internets for the whole world to read." (that was you talking to yourself in my head)
Well rest assured, dear reader (reader, not READERS because there's only ONE of you that I know of) I am actually not IN my right mind for most of the time. So there.
The other day I was at my sister's for dinner. As per usual, the conversation quickly deteriorated. I have gotten in the habit of recording conversations I have with my sister (and my dad) on my phone when they appear to be headed south.
On this occasion, Iwas too drunk to record the whole conversation neglected to record the pre-amble to the conversation, so I was pretty confused when I reviewed my notes prompting the following text exchange:
Me: Can you help me recreate this conversation accurately? I took the following notes:
Meg: What's a firecrotch?
Me: U don't know what firecrotch means?
Meg: No
Molly (Meg's 14 y/o daughter): She doesn't even know what 'ratchet' means.
Me: What? How is that possible?
Meg: I don't know. The kids use it a lot.
Me: They what?! Why?
Meg: Well, I thought firecrotch was a term for a gay man. Like the word flamer or something. Which brought up my apparent ignorance on teen slang which is why I asked why kids referred to themselves as ratchet. To which you were shocked and appalled that one of my kids rolls with someone who called themselves ratchet. Whereupon we looked it up and I called the teacher.
Me: OMG. It's worse than I thought.
Meg: Um, YEAH.
Me: No. That is NOT the meaning of firecrotch. lol
Meg: Yes. U clarified for me. This whole time I thought he was a flaming gay guy.
Me: *sigh* what will we do with you?
Meg: I kno. I'm hopeless.
Well rest assured, dear reader (reader, not READERS because there's only ONE of you that I know of) I am actually not IN my right mind for most of the time. So there.
The other day I was at my sister's for dinner. As per usual, the conversation quickly deteriorated. I have gotten in the habit of recording conversations I have with my sister (and my dad) on my phone when they appear to be headed south.
On this occasion, I
Me: Can you help me recreate this conversation accurately? I took the following notes:
Meg: What's a firecrotch?
Me: U don't know what firecrotch means?
Meg: No
Molly (Meg's 14 y/o daughter): She doesn't even know what 'ratchet' means.
Me: What? How is that possible?
Meg: I don't know. The kids use it a lot.
Me: They what?! Why?
Meg: Well, I thought firecrotch was a term for a gay man. Like the word flamer or something. Which brought up my apparent ignorance on teen slang which is why I asked why kids referred to themselves as ratchet. To which you were shocked and appalled that one of my kids rolls with someone who called themselves ratchet. Whereupon we looked it up and I called the teacher.
Me: OMG. It's worse than I thought.
Meg: Um, YEAH.
Me: No. That is NOT the meaning of firecrotch. lol
Meg: Yes. U clarified for me. This whole time I thought he was a flaming gay guy.
Me: *sigh* what will we do with you?
Meg: I kno. I'm hopeless.
Wednesday, July 31, 2013
WTF Wednesdays: Cutting the Cheese
I held off writing this post for a while because I didn't want people to think I was racist. Or culturally incompetent. Or predjudice. Or a moron. Or whatever.
Aaaaannd then I was all like, DUH.
WHO GIVES A SHIT?
No one reads this stupid blog anyways.
So *hashtag* whatevs.
Here's my (first of many, most likely) potentially racist, incompetent, prejudice blog post.
YOU ARE WELCOME.
First of all, does everyone know what "cutting the cheese" means?
It means you've just farted.
Are we clear? Good. Moving on.
Anyone else go to the gym on a regular basis?
Raise your hand....
Aaaand how many of you, who go to the gym regularly, also bathe regularly?
And use DEODORANT?
What? I can't hear you...Oh, EVERYONE you say?
No f*cking SHIT.
Guess that makes you a normal, regular, considerate, and-DARE I SAY-reasonable human being.
That makes you like most other normal, regular, considerate, reasonable human beings who share the Earth.
Unless, except, apparently, OF COURSE, all of those of you who use MY local gym.
My neighbors apparently have neither access to reason, consideration, running water, deodorant, nor FUCKING FEBREEZE*
* there is a grocery store ~76 steps from said gym that I know for a fact sells Febreeze...but I digress...
Or they're just assholes*
*probably the most likely explanation given the aforementioned availability of said Febreeze for purchase....
It's up for debate*
*not really, I'm just saying that so as not to appear like a TOTAL racist.
Let me be clear. I don't mean that my neighbors smell just a little bit.
NO.
I mean that they smell so bad that it makes me want to scream at the very tippy top of my wee little high pitched girly lungs....
No joke.
Almost every day I am on the treadmill/elliptical/stairmaster/etc. thinking to myself..."WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU EAT, and WHY THE FUCK HAVEN'T YOU BATHED IN THE LAST YEAR?"
To be fair, I live in an area of town nicknamed "Little Kabul" for it's large Afghani population.
So there's a cultural difference of opinion, I suspect.
Which I respect*.
*not really, because WTF? why can't you just buy a bottle of Febreeze and spritz yourself?!?!
I feel especially grateful for this cultural discrepancy when I am hungry-which is 75% of the time.
I loooove Afghani food. LOVE it.
Being as white as one could possibly be when it comes to food (salt was considered a "spice" in my home growing up), I really appreciate any so-called "ethnic" food (meaning everything other than meatloaf and potatoes).
The flip side of this coin is that I feel particularly UNgrateful when I am at the gym working out-which is five afternoons a week.
Just for your reference, I am NOT cool with ODORS in general.
I have a very delicate olefactory system. See here for evidence.
If you stink, I WILL smell you.
I don't know why my neighbors smell the way they do. I don't know if it's the food, the culture, the religion...I don't really care why you smell.
The fact of the matter is that you smell like you rolled in a rotting animal carcass for a bit whilst consuming an abnormally large quantity of garlic AFTER having abstained from bathing with SOAP for the last decade.
You smell SO horrible that I feel FAINT.
And I feel resentful because I PAY actual CASH MONEY to come here and work out which makes me feel entitled to a relatively UNscented environment when I work out.
Maybe, for $45/mo I expect it to smell like EFFING flowers in there Goddammit. Especially when I know for a *hashtag* FACT that Febreeze was on sale for $2.75 at the store around the corner last week....
Also I'm a SOCIAL WORKER so I make exactly $0.0001 more than your average Taco Bell drive through operator.
Except that I owe ~$45K for my fucking useless MASTERS DEGREE.
Soooooo...bottom line neighbors, if you want to stank up your own home, FINE.
But when you come to the gym to work out right next to OTHER HUMANS with functioning olefactory glands, your ass better have bathed in the last 24 hours, and/or be wearing deodorant, and/or have spritzed yourself with an anti-malodorous perfumed body spray and/or Febreeze (which is ON SALE right around the corner for less than THREE EFFING DOLLARS) and/or any OTHER spray that is designed to mask the odor of garlic coated decomposing flesh prior to your arrival at the gym.
Which brings me to my main point.
IF the person next to you on the stepper at the gym smells as though they rolled in dead animal, ate superhuman quantities of garlic and haven't showered in a decade, I do not think it's unreasonable to deliberately "cut the cheese" before moving to a different machine.
BOOM smelly bitches.
You just got schooled.
W.T.F.
Aaaaannd then I was all like, DUH.
WHO GIVES A SHIT?
No one reads this stupid blog anyways.
So *hashtag* whatevs.
Here's my (first of many, most likely) potentially racist, incompetent, prejudice blog post.
YOU ARE WELCOME.
First of all, does everyone know what "cutting the cheese" means?
It means you've just farted.
Are we clear? Good. Moving on.
Anyone else go to the gym on a regular basis?
Raise your hand....
Aaaand how many of you, who go to the gym regularly, also bathe regularly?
And use DEODORANT?
What? I can't hear you...Oh, EVERYONE you say?
No f*cking SHIT.
Guess that makes you a normal, regular, considerate, and-DARE I SAY-reasonable human being.
That makes you like most other normal, regular, considerate, reasonable human beings who share the Earth.
Unless, except, apparently, OF COURSE, all of those of you who use MY local gym.
My neighbors apparently have neither access to reason, consideration, running water, deodorant, nor FUCKING FEBREEZE*
* there is a grocery store ~76 steps from said gym that I know for a fact sells Febreeze...but I digress...
Or they're just assholes*
*probably the most likely explanation given the aforementioned availability of said Febreeze for purchase....
It's up for debate*
*not really, I'm just saying that so as not to appear like a TOTAL racist.
Let me be clear. I don't mean that my neighbors smell just a little bit.
NO.
I mean that they smell so bad that it makes me want to scream at the very tippy top of my wee little high pitched girly lungs....
What-In-The-Name-Of-ALL-THAT-IS-HOLY-Did-You-Roll-In-
And-When-EXACTLY-Did-It-DIE?!?!?!?!?!?
No joke.
Almost every day I am on the treadmill/elliptical/stairmaster/etc. thinking to myself..."WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU EAT, and WHY THE FUCK HAVEN'T YOU BATHED IN THE LAST YEAR?"
To be fair, I live in an area of town nicknamed "Little Kabul" for it's large Afghani population.
So there's a cultural difference of opinion, I suspect.
Which I respect*.
*not really, because WTF? why can't you just buy a bottle of Febreeze and spritz yourself?!?!
I feel especially grateful for this cultural discrepancy when I am hungry-which is 75% of the time.
I loooove Afghani food. LOVE it.
Being as white as one could possibly be when it comes to food (salt was considered a "spice" in my home growing up), I really appreciate any so-called "ethnic" food (meaning everything other than meatloaf and potatoes).
The flip side of this coin is that I feel particularly UNgrateful when I am at the gym working out-which is five afternoons a week.
Just for your reference, I am NOT cool with ODORS in general.
I have a very delicate olefactory system. See here for evidence.
If you stink, I WILL smell you.
I don't know why my neighbors smell the way they do. I don't know if it's the food, the culture, the religion...I don't really care why you smell.
The fact of the matter is that you smell like you rolled in a rotting animal carcass for a bit whilst consuming an abnormally large quantity of garlic AFTER having abstained from bathing with SOAP for the last decade.
You smell SO horrible that I feel FAINT.
And I feel resentful because I PAY actual CASH MONEY to come here and work out which makes me feel entitled to a relatively UNscented environment when I work out.
Maybe, for $45/mo I expect it to smell like EFFING flowers in there Goddammit. Especially when I know for a *hashtag* FACT that Febreeze was on sale for $2.75 at the store around the corner last week....
Also I'm a SOCIAL WORKER so I make exactly $0.0001 more than your average Taco Bell drive through operator.
Except that I owe ~$45K for my fucking useless MASTERS DEGREE.
Soooooo...bottom line neighbors, if you want to stank up your own home, FINE.
But when you come to the gym to work out right next to OTHER HUMANS with functioning olefactory glands, your ass better have bathed in the last 24 hours, and/or be wearing deodorant, and/or have spritzed yourself with an anti-malodorous perfumed body spray and/or Febreeze (which is ON SALE right around the corner for less than THREE EFFING DOLLARS) and/or any OTHER spray that is designed to mask the odor of garlic coated decomposing flesh prior to your arrival at the gym.
Which brings me to my main point.
IF the person next to you on the stepper at the gym smells as though they rolled in dead animal, ate superhuman quantities of garlic and haven't showered in a decade, I do not think it's unreasonable to deliberately "cut the cheese" before moving to a different machine.
BOOM smelly bitches.
You just got schooled.
W.T.F.
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