Archive for March, 2010

Family Matters

If you grew up in the 90’s like me, you probably have seen Family Matters.

You know the premise:  Suburban family in Chicago, the dad is a cop, the mom is a ‘hip’ nag, the kids have a different issue every episode… and one of these issues is extremely repetitive.

Steven Q. Urkel to be exact.

I know that shows back then weren’t as bent on being realistic like the TV shows out there now, but there was one thing that always screamed in the back of my mind, even more persistent now, when I can look back on my TV watching youth with regret.

Steve Urkel always came over right? He annoyed the whole family right? He annoyed everyone. He was always barging in with this fucking, “Howdy Ho Winslow’s!”

And it was like they were running for cover.  Like he was the cat that came back or something.

Why didn’t they lock the fucking door?

Honestly. Why?

Carl Winslow must have been the world’s dumbest cop. If he really hated this kid, why didn’t he flash his gun at him and tell him to beat it?  Get a restraining order? Charge him with stalking?

Basically I just hate Steve Urkel. I hate when I ask someone if they have cheese I can hear his voice in my head. I hate how he’s taken cute suspenders reserved for leprechauns and men whose hands are too riddled by arthritis to do up their belts and made them into his signature look.  I hate how he wheeled a good-looking girl, even if her name was Myra Boutros Boutros Monkhouse.  And eventually Laura too.

And then there was that idiot, Stefan Urquelle.

You know that story line only ever came to fruition because Jaleel White (The guy who plays Steve) was sick of being typecast in his every day life as Steve Urkel and wanted some pussy.  So he got a story line where he could show case his post-pubescent ‘good-looks’ and then hit the club and maybe got some drunken ass.

Well that’s mostly what I have to say about Steve, but while we’re here on this subject, what the fuck did they do with Judy?

For real!  One day she was there, the next she wasn’t and nobody seemed to notice?  Did Carl get his police badge out of a cereal box or something? Chicago’s worst policeman lived in the Winslow house, FYI.  Maybe if they would have found her she wouldn’t have ended up as a porn star and on Dr.  Drew’s Celebrity Rehab for her ‘weed addiction’.

Ughhhhh, Full House was a much better show


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Hot People vs Funny People

Have you ever given someone a compliment on the physical level to have them give you one back…on your personality?

I have.

It was a little disheartening, but because it was a friend I just took it the way that I take most information: As a confirmation of my awesomeness, and I adjusted my pony-tail to accommodate my new bigger head.

However, the fact remained, I called her hot, she called me funny. 

Last I knew,

                     nobody masturbated to a poster of hilarious.

Being funny is an important quality in people, according to: me, people I know, magazines, and some self-help books. Being hot is an important quality to everyone except for blind people, and even some of  them can tell if you’re not sexy.

When is the last time you were out and about and saw a stranger, and thought, ‘wow, that person looks very clever‘?  Chances are, instead of that, you rated them out of ten, based on their face and general fuckability. 

These two are hilarious. Not so much Carrot Top,  but Nikki Payne is funny as hell. I just picked Carrot Top cause he was the ugliest comedian I could think of.  These photos prove that even if you are the funniest person in the room, and your face is working against you, you are going home alone. Unless you planned ahead and brought roofies.

Then there’s the old, “Looks fade, so in the end you’ll be stuck with personality” argument.  This used to be a valid argument.  But have you noticed how people are aging these days? In short, they’re not. They are botoxed, restylaned, augmented, liposuctioned, peeled, gymed, moisturized and have made pacts with the devil.

The good-looking people are going to be that way forever, if they can afford it. Meanwhile, the funny words will be coming out of the ugly mouths until they’re dead.

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I have a lot of experience with being hungover. In fact, I’m hungover right now.

Today I suffered from a Stage 3 Hangover, which is the worst kind that you can have.  There are only 3 kinds, so any rumors you might have heard about a Stage 4 or 5, are totally false.

Here are the guidelines to determining what you might be suffering from.

Stage 1 Hangover:

You wake up with slight confusion, chronic thirst, and a trail of dried spit on one or both of the corners of your mouth.  You have intense cravings for fruits and vegetables, or an Egg Mcmuffin.  You might have a slight headache, but nothing a few Advil can’t handle.  You’re  probably mostly feeling shitty from staying up too late while you were drinking, so you should be back in good shape in about 2 hours.  This hangover is also common when you go out and only have a few (literally, a few) drinks and the next morning you feel it’s not fair to feel shitty at all.

Stage 2 Hangover:

This is a bit more severe.

You wake up and your head feels heavy. You’re not entirely sure how you got home, or not home even.  You could go back to sleep for hours if your headache would go away. You could chug a litre of water, and a greasy breakfast is sounding good.  Forming thoughts and communicating them effectively is next to impossible, and moaning just feels right. Later in the day you’ll be giggling about the things that happened the night before, or things that are happening presently that aren’t that funny, but laughing makes you feel good, so you keep it up.

Stage 3 Hangover:

Run for your life.

You wake up and instantly regret it. You can’t think about food or beverages, and the only fluid left in your body is streaming out of your tear ducts. You’re sprawled on your bed, the floor, or the stairs in a position most often seen at the scene of  a ‘pedestrian vs car’ accident. Crawling is your preferred method of transportation. You vomit, dry heave, and repeat. Sunlight is a no go, in fact, any light is.  Brushing your disgusting teeth is out of the question right now due to an extra sensitive gag reflex, so you sit there and breathe your stinky breath. If you can even muster the energy to get naked and shower, you can’t stand up. You sit in the bottom of your shower, stick your head in the spray, and slap shampoo onto your head like a circus monkey. You try to go back to sleep only to be woken up by the urge to slide into the bathroom, stick your head into the toilet and make donkey mating calls. You cry and offer money for people to come over and rub your back. When you finally are feeling somewhat on the road to recovery, it’s 4 pm or later. And there’s only one thing left to do.

Go to Quiznos.

I’m dead serious, this is the only option. You go to Quiznos, get your sub of choice, a cup of the broccoli cheese soup, a root beer, and some honey mustard sauce for dipping, and you should be good to go.

Well now you know what’s what, so feel free to go out there and drink your face off, and properly identify just how fucked up you are the next morning.

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Handsome Men And The Mutts They Claim As Their Lovers

What the fuck is up with hot guys and their ugly girlfriends?

Seriously, what happened?

I understand how they end up with the chubby/fat ones cause I’m sure they started off as skinny girls and then let all of the shared meals, or the ”I’m so happy I could eat a tub of icecream” feelings take over, but the ugly ones? Where is the logic there?

What kind of guy wants to be with someone who looks like they were the shovel fighting champion 3 years in a row?

I was out at a bar last night and I saw this ‘girl’ who looked like an aborted fetus that had sprouted legs and crawled out of a dumpster.  She went up to a good-looking guy, and start making out with him. I thought the Earth had stopped spinning. How did she get him?  Bribery? Drugs? Did she kidnap him? Is he really that drunk?

And here I am getting hit on by fat and old guys, watching this, and it’s making me sick.

Being hit on by fat guys is brutal. They think they have a chance, and it hurts my feelings. I don’t think I’m a super hot girl or anything like that, but I also don’t think that a guy would shower more than once after accidently sleeping with me.

Being hit on by an older guy you could assume they at least have money and will buy your drinks. The fat guy is saving his money so he can hit the drive-thru on the way home.

And the swamp donkeys are taking over the world.

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Slutty Girls Ruin Everything

If you’ve ever had a one night stand, I’m sure you’ve said/heard this phrase : “I’ve never done anything like that before”   as you are trying to locate your clothes, determine if the person next to you was a good looking mistake, and get the fuck home/kick them the fuck out.

Now, you know that’s a lie, they know that’s a lie, your neighbors know that’s a lie, you’re a huge fucking liar.

I’m ok with that.

But you know who’s not? The people who are telling the truth.

My friend recently had her first one nighter, and I don’t know if she actually said those words to this guy, but if she did, he wasn’t buyin it.  He called a few weeks later to “watch a movie”, which translates into “watch the opening credits and screw”.  And she doesn’t just want to screw this guy, she at least wants to be treated like a lady for a couple of nights before anything else happens (again), but how does she change his perception of her?  It’s not like she can tell him, “look, I don’t normally do that sort of thing, in fact, I’ve never done that before”


So to all you slutty girls out there, stop being such liars, and give my friend a chance to go on a goddamn date.

Instead of using the standard line, from now on, please have this memorized, or written on your tits before you head out to the bar,

This is not out of the ordinary, what is your address? Have a nice day

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The Gym

I’m starting to hate my gym.

Don’t get me wrong, I like to workout and act like an active person, but the gym….oh it’s gettin to me.

I go to an all girl gym, because I’m afraid to work out with boys.  The only workout I’m not afraid to do with boys includes dim/or bright lighting, minimal if any clothing, and a sturdy surface. 

I hate working out with boys, because when I work out, I get very self-conscious.  I sweat like a motherfucker. My face turns beet red, with splotchy patches of darker red, and sometimes stark white areas. It’s completely fucked and I don’t get it. I’ve googled it. I’ve Webmd’d it. I’ve tried to find others like me and I just can’t, and now that I think about it, I don’t want to.   Anyways, this is the reason why I don’t like to work out with boys, cause while some of them are just there focused on their  workout, some of them are walking around and checking out girls and judging girls like me. So I find that at the all girl gym, other girls also go there to avoid the boys. 

There’s a problem though.  Most of them hideous and fat. It is no picnic watching them stretch.  But it does alleviate my self-esteem issues when I’m there, cause they can’t judge me. Or they can, just like I judge them, but I mean, come on. 

A few weeks ago, I found another problem.  Other people I know go to this gym.  In fact, the other day, I met someone who works at this gym.  I was super pissed. I like to go there in the anonymity of the big girls and not worry about someone recognizing my aerobicized face, and now I know 3 people there!  Now I’m lurking around like Todd from Wedding Crashers trying not to make eye contact and sweat incognito.

It’s awful.

But I have to keep going and getting ugly in public cause it is after all, the right and healthy thing to do…

Can you imagine if you ever got so huge that you had to get gastric bypass surgery or were on The Biggest Loser crying and waving your bat-wing arms and getting yelled at by Jillian Michaels?  Being yelled at by Jillian Michaels I think is reason enough to starve yourself and take the stairs everywhere you go, I mean, fuck, she’s a beast.  She is pure evil in spandex. She’s all muscles and botox, and she’s botoxed everything in her face so all you can see when she’s yelling is fiery demon eyes and snarling nostrils.

Haha! Holy shit, look at her face!

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I’ve Never Done This Before…

That is pretty much the first time I’ve been able to say that phrase without having to have my fingers crossed behind my back.

But it’s true.

I am a virgin blogger. It’s taken me years to finally be a virgin again at something, so this is a pretty monumental day in my life.

 I’m not really sure what this is going to be about.   My good friend Heidi started a blog also, (and I suggest you go there) and mostly I did this so that we could have more in common.  We could lament about our impending carpal tunnel, or we could talk about the day and then race to blog what we talked about and then go read eachothers blogs and mentally hi-five eachother.  There’s some good shit that’s going to come out of this. 

Heidi’s blog, and all of her friends blogs are so…nice, and shiny, and clean looking, and structured, and respectable. You will not find that here… whoever you are.  I just hope you know that and that you are ready. I hope when you read this blog that you are entertained, a little uplifted, and happy that you are not me.

Wow, so my first time  is over, I’m sober, my legs don’t hurt, I know where I am….fuck times have changed.

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