Mommy issues. If they weren’t so darn pervasive, they wouldn’t exist in the idiomatic world. Most people have them, if not all people, at least to some extent. Even Rory Gilmore eventually developed some, after spending years making out with Loralei on the couch.
There comes a point in everyone’s life where you wake up and realize that you now are better and wiser than your parents. Once you get to this point, there is only one possible course of action: Alienate them as they have become a liability on the path towards true happiness and life success. To do this, I would suggest initiating a conversation wherein the only goal is to blame them for everything that has ever happened in your life. A conversation could go something like this:
“Ring, ring.”
“Hello.”
“Hi, mom, it’s me.”
“Oh hi darling. My, it’s been quite a while. How are you doing? Your father and I were worried.”
“Well, mom, that is just it. I haven’t been in touch with you recently because I have had to think about some things. Yeah, so I was reflecting on my childhood while looking up porn and maxing out my credit cards on the net and I came to a realization: I hate my life. I was teased relentlessly growing up because you birthed me and your genetics made me a gapped-toothed, short-sighted geek. Your choice of clothing for me provided hours and hours and years of fodder for my classmates who delighted in belittling me and calling me names such as “Jan Brady” and “reject.” They also liked to remind me that you didn’t love me, which makes sense considering how you insisted that I tuck my shirt into my pants which you pulled up to my armpits. Based upon my childhood experiences, I was socially retarded entering college and was unable to mature at the rate of my peers. My self-confidence level has always been low and, because of that, I have failed in many, many things. I don’t trust, I don’t love, and I haven’t accomplished anything, other than coming to the realization that you and dad are the source of my misery. I hate you. I wish you were dead and, as soon as I hang up, I hope to never speak to you again.”
“Click.”
Of course, the more general you can be, the better it is for you. If you begin to go into details, then you run the risk of having to admit to some of the good things that your parents have done for you over the years. And heaven forbid they denote a scintilla of gratitude. You'll never be rid of them if they do...
You see, the truth of the matter is that (despite what our former selves thought) parents are actually fallible people. Eureka! Say it ain’t so. I know. Hard as the pill is to swallow, it’s true. Just ask the thousands of psychologists out there whose couches contain the remnants of parental miscues.
It doesn’t matter though.
Your parents are solely responsible for everything you have done and will ever do in your life. Unless it is positive, then you have done it all on your own, regardless of any financial or emotional support you may have received from those ultimately responsible for your presence on this earth. And regardless of what President Obama says...
Blame the rents for your failure to be the next Bill Gates or Kate Moss. If you want to rid yourself of them, blast the horn of anguish and hatred! A word of forewarning: Parents are particularly challenging to get rid of because of a thing called “love.” Silly though it may seem, parents actually love their children and this is sometimes despite how their children treat them.
Bottom Line: If you wanna cut the umbilical chord, you gotta be rough about it. Take no prisoners and show no weakness. If all else fails...waterboard.
Sunday, August 5, 2012
Friday, August 3, 2012
5 Suggestions for Sports for the Next Summer Olympics
I have become rather bored with the selection of athletic competitions in the 2012 Summer Games. Not that I am surprised by this. I think the Olympics have regressed in their "excitement" value as time has passed. I'm sure the first games were much more tantalizing with tanned, naked sportsmen running around with nothing but laurels atop their heads and motivated by the threat of death by lion if they lost. As a way of spicing it up, I have some suggestions for awesome competions to add to the lineup of boring for 2016. Of course, some might not agree with my choices, but, then again, some people also eat bugs for dinner. I don't judge.
1.) Rap Battles: It would be so much fun to watch the world's elite rap artists battle it out on the Olympic Stage. So much potential here. I'm thinking Gold, Silver and Bronze grillz for the winners would be a nice touch. The losers serve 5-10 years. The only drawback is that it would be hard for, say, an American and a Frenchman to understand eachother enough to compete, unless they wear those UN headsets that provide simultaneous translations. Though if a Frenchman is speaking, he probably isn't saying anything of value anyway. At a minimum, I think we can all agree that seeing 50 Cent in the opening ceremony costume would be brilliant! Observe...
2.) Eating competition: What better way to add an element of popular culture to the Olympics. It's about time that those few who can swallow 10 pounds of food in 5 minutes receive the respect they deserve. Adam Richmond could even provide play by play commentary. It's time we are honest with ourselves and admit that gluttony is here to stay. Why not celebrate that fact? The best part: Instead of a podium, the winners could simply stand on the stomachs of the losers!
3.) Extreme Couponing: Whoever says that couponing is not a contact sport should talk to the soccer mom who was stabbed with a pair of safety scissors over a $0.25 Little Debbie Snack Cake coupon. Oh the humanity. This competition would provide homemakers the false hope that their lives are actually interesting and worthy of world attention. Such hope would in turn keep them from suffering depression and becoming alcoholics and/or Xanax abusers. Competitors would naturally be disqualified for using uber sharp scissors and prison made shanks. Prior to this, the only competition that even remotely utilized the skills of homemakers was Curling, where they sweep ice (fun........). It took me 2 hours to think of the name of that "sport", an obvious indication that it lacks widespread appeal.
4.) Beer Pong: If anyone has ever been to Oktoberfest, you will note that there is nothing that brings people of different cultures, religions, nationalities, and ethnicities together better than Beer. Seriously, I tried to keep track of the number of different nationalities I was either kissed by, hugged by, or proposed to when I attended and I lost track at 15. In hindsight I should have taken a particular someone up on his offer of marriage and a goat, but I digress. As an added benefit, Beer Pong would completely bring the games back to their amateur glory days as who better to represent their countries than teams of Co-Eds? I thought alternatively of suggesting Cow Tipping, but I think India would have a huge problem with that.
5.) Kama Sutra: Yes, I saved the best suggestion for last. This would be the hottest ticket in town and the hardest one to get! Furthermore, what says exceptionalism more than successfully undertaking 200 different "positions" in 10 minutes. Could you imagine a more amazing fete of athleticism requiring such endurance, stamina and flexibility?? No, of course you can't. Additionally, this is an event that is both entertaining and pedagogic. Unless you are a nun, priest, monk, or are otherwise celibate. Oh and did I mention the prizes would be Gold, Silver and Bronze tassels (which would have obvious tax benefits for the Americans, should they win).
And finally, not a sport but rather more of an innovation: Kim Kardashian should be the pommel horse for the gymnastics competition. Just ponder that for a hot minute.
1.) Rap Battles: It would be so much fun to watch the world's elite rap artists battle it out on the Olympic Stage. So much potential here. I'm thinking Gold, Silver and Bronze grillz for the winners would be a nice touch. The losers serve 5-10 years. The only drawback is that it would be hard for, say, an American and a Frenchman to understand eachother enough to compete, unless they wear those UN headsets that provide simultaneous translations. Though if a Frenchman is speaking, he probably isn't saying anything of value anyway. At a minimum, I think we can all agree that seeing 50 Cent in the opening ceremony costume would be brilliant! Observe...
2.) Eating competition: What better way to add an element of popular culture to the Olympics. It's about time that those few who can swallow 10 pounds of food in 5 minutes receive the respect they deserve. Adam Richmond could even provide play by play commentary. It's time we are honest with ourselves and admit that gluttony is here to stay. Why not celebrate that fact? The best part: Instead of a podium, the winners could simply stand on the stomachs of the losers!
3.) Extreme Couponing: Whoever says that couponing is not a contact sport should talk to the soccer mom who was stabbed with a pair of safety scissors over a $0.25 Little Debbie Snack Cake coupon. Oh the humanity. This competition would provide homemakers the false hope that their lives are actually interesting and worthy of world attention. Such hope would in turn keep them from suffering depression and becoming alcoholics and/or Xanax abusers. Competitors would naturally be disqualified for using uber sharp scissors and prison made shanks. Prior to this, the only competition that even remotely utilized the skills of homemakers was Curling, where they sweep ice (fun........). It took me 2 hours to think of the name of that "sport", an obvious indication that it lacks widespread appeal.
4.) Beer Pong: If anyone has ever been to Oktoberfest, you will note that there is nothing that brings people of different cultures, religions, nationalities, and ethnicities together better than Beer. Seriously, I tried to keep track of the number of different nationalities I was either kissed by, hugged by, or proposed to when I attended and I lost track at 15. In hindsight I should have taken a particular someone up on his offer of marriage and a goat, but I digress. As an added benefit, Beer Pong would completely bring the games back to their amateur glory days as who better to represent their countries than teams of Co-Eds? I thought alternatively of suggesting Cow Tipping, but I think India would have a huge problem with that.
5.) Kama Sutra: Yes, I saved the best suggestion for last. This would be the hottest ticket in town and the hardest one to get! Furthermore, what says exceptionalism more than successfully undertaking 200 different "positions" in 10 minutes. Could you imagine a more amazing fete of athleticism requiring such endurance, stamina and flexibility?? No, of course you can't. Additionally, this is an event that is both entertaining and pedagogic. Unless you are a nun, priest, monk, or are otherwise celibate. Oh and did I mention the prizes would be Gold, Silver and Bronze tassels (which would have obvious tax benefits for the Americans, should they win).
And finally, not a sport but rather more of an innovation: Kim Kardashian should be the pommel horse for the gymnastics competition. Just ponder that for a hot minute.
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
60 Jillion Problems
I have got 60 jillion problems but only about 30 minutes before I have to jet off to bigger and better things (that's a lie - problem #1 - have developed a lying pathology). I wish I had the time to share them all with you, but I am meeting with Obama today to discuss campaign strategy (LIE!) before competing in the Olympic decathalon (LIE!). Thus, I will only devulge 5 of my 60 jillion problems to keep this post brief and, naturally, all about me. Only 5 of My 60 Jillion Problems Because I am Super Busy and Needed in the E.R. (LIE!):
1.) I am a pathological liar now (see above): New development. I can't seem to speak the truth. I feel like the opposite of Jim Carrey in Liar, Liar. Which does mean that I may actually be funny. Try as I may, I can't stop telling people things like, "Bankruptcy is a good thing."; "No, good parents can still smoke pot. In fact, it's better to the blow it in the kid's face at home so you know they aren't driving anywhere."; and "Of course I care about your feelings." Some may say it goes with my chosen career. I say, "Since when is a Hooters waitress also required to be a psychologist?" (Though many are in nursing school...) I need help.
2.) My hair is falling out at an alarming rate and I am seriously considering joining the Hair Club for Men: I have a lot of stress in my life right now - I mean a TON. I have to do things like pay bills, order my own food and actually pump my own gas. I never realized how hard it is to force the diesel pump into an unleaded tank. But I persevered in that endeavor, after only one hernia. All this stress has caused me to develop male patterned baldness. I even had a nightmare that I was beginning to resemble Prince William. On the bright side, if I join the Hair Club for Men, I may have the chance to meet my future ex-husband. He will at least sympathize with my plight and we can spend hours together lamenting the passing of our hairlines.
3.) I really want to scream out "Wipe that Face Off Your Head" at random people on the street: For some reason I have become a very angry, bitter person. Perhaps it is a direct result of my lactose intolerance. Ben and Jerry's is a woman's birthright - one which I am now denied. I am generally not a violent person. I haven't punched anyone in the throat in at least 3 weeks. But still, I have an insatiable urge to just scream at people, mostly geriatrics and small children. I should really look into meditation and/or illicit drug therapies.
4.) Too many other people have problems: This is a huge issue for me. When other people have problems, it diminishes the attention that I can get for my problems. I am sorry that your husband left you for another woman - I have a splinter in my butt. I am sorry that you lost your job and are now forced to work as a day laborer on a Lima Bean farm - I can't seem to get a direct line to Channing Tatum's cell phone. You see, I have much bigger, more impressive problems than most people. This means I need others to stop being so selfish about theirs and focus all their attention on mine. For shame people!
5.) I am too good looking: It's a fact I have had to deal with since I was, well, born. I have always been much better looking and overall more fabulous than anyone else I have ever met. I struggled with it in my youth - when everyone else was suffering through the ugly duckling stage, I never once batted one of my long, full, beautiful eyelashes. The problem has become more acute in my 30's as many of my contemporaries have aged less than gracefully. I truly believe there is a conspiracy against such ridiculously good looking people as myself. We are ostracized, chastised and scourned regularly. We cannot go one single day without someone making a comment to the effect of "What do you know about ugly. You have no idea what it is like to be common." Truth is, I don't. But I can imagine it isn't very nice. I just wish that sometimes people would look beyond my striking aesthetics and see the person I really am - A godlike creature with a heart of gold. No wait, that would be a heart of platinum.
I guess I shared 5 of my 60 jillion problems with you today to illustrate that I, too, am human. Despite what popular tabloids seem to claim. I hope this enables you to understand me a teensy bit better. If not, then whatever. I got 60 jillion problems and a biddy ain't one.
1.) I am a pathological liar now (see above): New development. I can't seem to speak the truth. I feel like the opposite of Jim Carrey in Liar, Liar. Which does mean that I may actually be funny. Try as I may, I can't stop telling people things like, "Bankruptcy is a good thing."; "No, good parents can still smoke pot. In fact, it's better to the blow it in the kid's face at home so you know they aren't driving anywhere."; and "Of course I care about your feelings." Some may say it goes with my chosen career. I say, "Since when is a Hooters waitress also required to be a psychologist?" (Though many are in nursing school...) I need help.
2.) My hair is falling out at an alarming rate and I am seriously considering joining the Hair Club for Men: I have a lot of stress in my life right now - I mean a TON. I have to do things like pay bills, order my own food and actually pump my own gas. I never realized how hard it is to force the diesel pump into an unleaded tank. But I persevered in that endeavor, after only one hernia. All this stress has caused me to develop male patterned baldness. I even had a nightmare that I was beginning to resemble Prince William. On the bright side, if I join the Hair Club for Men, I may have the chance to meet my future ex-husband. He will at least sympathize with my plight and we can spend hours together lamenting the passing of our hairlines.
3.) I really want to scream out "Wipe that Face Off Your Head" at random people on the street: For some reason I have become a very angry, bitter person. Perhaps it is a direct result of my lactose intolerance. Ben and Jerry's is a woman's birthright - one which I am now denied. I am generally not a violent person. I haven't punched anyone in the throat in at least 3 weeks. But still, I have an insatiable urge to just scream at people, mostly geriatrics and small children. I should really look into meditation and/or illicit drug therapies.
4.) Too many other people have problems: This is a huge issue for me. When other people have problems, it diminishes the attention that I can get for my problems. I am sorry that your husband left you for another woman - I have a splinter in my butt. I am sorry that you lost your job and are now forced to work as a day laborer on a Lima Bean farm - I can't seem to get a direct line to Channing Tatum's cell phone. You see, I have much bigger, more impressive problems than most people. This means I need others to stop being so selfish about theirs and focus all their attention on mine. For shame people!
5.) I am too good looking: It's a fact I have had to deal with since I was, well, born. I have always been much better looking and overall more fabulous than anyone else I have ever met. I struggled with it in my youth - when everyone else was suffering through the ugly duckling stage, I never once batted one of my long, full, beautiful eyelashes. The problem has become more acute in my 30's as many of my contemporaries have aged less than gracefully. I truly believe there is a conspiracy against such ridiculously good looking people as myself. We are ostracized, chastised and scourned regularly. We cannot go one single day without someone making a comment to the effect of "What do you know about ugly. You have no idea what it is like to be common." Truth is, I don't. But I can imagine it isn't very nice. I just wish that sometimes people would look beyond my striking aesthetics and see the person I really am - A godlike creature with a heart of gold. No wait, that would be a heart of platinum.
I guess I shared 5 of my 60 jillion problems with you today to illustrate that I, too, am human. Despite what popular tabloids seem to claim. I hope this enables you to understand me a teensy bit better. If not, then whatever. I got 60 jillion problems and a biddy ain't one.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Welcome Back!
Hello and how are you! I have missed myself so much for the past - oh - too many months to count. I have been very busy and I have had lots and lots of changes in my life. We have a ton to discuss. I will share a few of my most important self and worldly realizations:
1.) I now hate the word Febreeze. What a stupid word. What does it mean??? I spray you and yet an hour later my clothing still smells like stale whiskey and cigarettes. And I don't even drink whiskey. You should be banned from the shelves of fine establishments such as Walmart and the Family Dollar. You'll get yours someday Febreeze...oh how you will get yours.
2.) I have developed a fear of tight-rope walking. Yes, it is true. I have a deadly fear of traversing the landscape with nothing keeping me from falling asunder other than a 1.5 inch thick rope. Thank you Modern Family for throwing that back in my face. I have thought about therapy but have chosen instead to self medicate with a mixture of beer, wine, and vodka. I only drink the vodka when the back flashes of lives I have never lived are exceptionally vibrant. Of course they never really are, but this is a super great excuse to drink and forget for one moment that Nancy Grace still exists.
3.) I have developed a 6th Sense and can now pick a winning scratcher 1 out of every 8 times. This is a very secret development as I fear that others may attempt to make me use my powers for evil instead of good. It is definitely a burden I never wished to undertake, nor thought I would ever undertake...Nonetheless, here it is and here I am too. I vow in this moment to not take advantage of the $1.00 and free tickets I will encounter 1/8 times I purchase a #22 from the local Hess Station on my way to work. Hear this Mexican Drug Cartels: I will not be used as a pawn in your sordid attempt at world domination and, this I know to be true, South of the Border will NEVER be better than Disney World. So stop filling the stomachs of innocent drug mules with your dirty cocaine and boot-legged Tequila. You will never get me lucky charms. And Trix will ALWAYS be for kids.
4.) I have decided that I will never get married. I am sorry to break the hearts of millions of young bachelors and single-agains, but I am not the marrying type. I refuse to waste the rest of my youth spending my evenings discussing our budget and losing my identity in 2.5 children whose lives are destined to become as mundane as my own. No dear friends, I choose to adopt 100 thousand cats and wind up on an episode of animal hoarders, that is if I don't wind up the subject matter of an episode of Intervention first (for my addiction to doilies and soft, luxurious throw blankets that are on sale at Bed Bath and Beyond ). But don't cry for me Eastern North Carolina, I feel liberated! So much so that I intend to go outside and burn the training bra I have owned and proudly worn since age 12.
5.) The last little tid bit of my life I will share with you cyber world and cyber friends: I have come to the conclusion that cows are the illegitimate offspring of Dr. Oz and Oprah Winfrey. It makes perfect sense. What has a big mouth, invades the earth with enough methane gas to run a small country for at least 3 months and weighs more than a small tank? OPRAH! What eats grass, makes loud, incoherent noises and is so regular you can set your watch by it?? DR. OZ!! Put them together and you get a species of the bovine variety! I have done it friends. I have found the missing link and the missing link resides on the Oprah Winfrey Network. I can't believe I haven't discovered this sooner. I feel like I am losing my edge in my old age. Hopefully I will get it back soon because 30 IS the new 20 and men like older women now thanks to Ashton Kutcher and the Biebs. (Still NOT getting married though. Unless it's to Harry Potter. But he has to wear the glasses or it's over.)
Well, now that you have been invited to share in the ponderings of the Pokey once again, I hope you feel more intuned with my reality and yours. Until we meet again - or until I have the energy to type more than the 400 characters that make up a facebook post - hasta la vista, baby.
1.) I now hate the word Febreeze. What a stupid word. What does it mean??? I spray you and yet an hour later my clothing still smells like stale whiskey and cigarettes. And I don't even drink whiskey. You should be banned from the shelves of fine establishments such as Walmart and the Family Dollar. You'll get yours someday Febreeze...oh how you will get yours.
2.) I have developed a fear of tight-rope walking. Yes, it is true. I have a deadly fear of traversing the landscape with nothing keeping me from falling asunder other than a 1.5 inch thick rope. Thank you Modern Family for throwing that back in my face. I have thought about therapy but have chosen instead to self medicate with a mixture of beer, wine, and vodka. I only drink the vodka when the back flashes of lives I have never lived are exceptionally vibrant. Of course they never really are, but this is a super great excuse to drink and forget for one moment that Nancy Grace still exists.
3.) I have developed a 6th Sense and can now pick a winning scratcher 1 out of every 8 times. This is a very secret development as I fear that others may attempt to make me use my powers for evil instead of good. It is definitely a burden I never wished to undertake, nor thought I would ever undertake...Nonetheless, here it is and here I am too. I vow in this moment to not take advantage of the $1.00 and free tickets I will encounter 1/8 times I purchase a #22 from the local Hess Station on my way to work. Hear this Mexican Drug Cartels: I will not be used as a pawn in your sordid attempt at world domination and, this I know to be true, South of the Border will NEVER be better than Disney World. So stop filling the stomachs of innocent drug mules with your dirty cocaine and boot-legged Tequila. You will never get me lucky charms. And Trix will ALWAYS be for kids.
4.) I have decided that I will never get married. I am sorry to break the hearts of millions of young bachelors and single-agains, but I am not the marrying type. I refuse to waste the rest of my youth spending my evenings discussing our budget and losing my identity in 2.5 children whose lives are destined to become as mundane as my own. No dear friends, I choose to adopt 100 thousand cats and wind up on an episode of animal hoarders, that is if I don't wind up the subject matter of an episode of Intervention first (for my addiction to doilies and soft, luxurious throw blankets that are on sale at Bed Bath and Beyond ). But don't cry for me Eastern North Carolina, I feel liberated! So much so that I intend to go outside and burn the training bra I have owned and proudly worn since age 12.
5.) The last little tid bit of my life I will share with you cyber world and cyber friends: I have come to the conclusion that cows are the illegitimate offspring of Dr. Oz and Oprah Winfrey. It makes perfect sense. What has a big mouth, invades the earth with enough methane gas to run a small country for at least 3 months and weighs more than a small tank? OPRAH! What eats grass, makes loud, incoherent noises and is so regular you can set your watch by it?? DR. OZ!! Put them together and you get a species of the bovine variety! I have done it friends. I have found the missing link and the missing link resides on the Oprah Winfrey Network. I can't believe I haven't discovered this sooner. I feel like I am losing my edge in my old age. Hopefully I will get it back soon because 30 IS the new 20 and men like older women now thanks to Ashton Kutcher and the Biebs. (Still NOT getting married though. Unless it's to Harry Potter. But he has to wear the glasses or it's over.)
Well, now that you have been invited to share in the ponderings of the Pokey once again, I hope you feel more intuned with my reality and yours. Until we meet again - or until I have the energy to type more than the 400 characters that make up a facebook post - hasta la vista, baby.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Fan Mail: Martha Stewart
Dear Martha:
I am so sorry that some horrific accident or past trauma as left you without a personality. That is so tragic. Of all the things to lose…a limb would have been more compassionate. I tried to watch your Thanksgiving special this morning, and found myself extremely thankful for the moment I changed the channel.
I thought prison would make you more charismatic – or at least more interesting. But no, there are no tear tats to talk about, no shank scar stories to tell, and no girlfriends named Bubba – at least none that you have disclosed.
I am in awe of how you have built an empire on teaching people how to make the kitschy knick knacks that usually end up on the 90% markdown shelf at gift stores throughout the country or as donations to local charities for the tax write off or – worse yet – as kindling for the insurance fire started to recoup the losses sustained attempting to build a sustainable business selling crap. And the people who receive it? One word: Regift.
I am really looking forward to watching you make snowmen out of marshmallows and the tears of small children at Christmas. Afterwards, I am going to drink myself into oblivion by consuming massive amounts of spoiled eggnog and spend the rest of the night singing “Oh Come All Ye Faithful” while dancing around the tree in my underwear and a Santa hat. I will need some method of forgetting the last hour and a half of my life that I’ll never get back.
I honestly don’t understand how a person who basically lives her creative outlet 24/7 can develop such a horrible reputation for being the world’s biggest biddy. I thought that outlets were important for maintaining emotional balance in life. And the stuff you do is even more important for helping housewives alleviate hours of boredom so that they don’t eventually go bat crazy from spending their days cooking, cleaning and chauffeuring and eat their own children.
Yet one of life’s anomalies for Pokey to ponder…
Happy Thanksgiving, you boring, bitch of a woman. I am sure you will be the one with the last laugh, as you stuff the Turkey’s butt with a mixture of cranberry stuffing and hatred.
-Pokey
I am so sorry that some horrific accident or past trauma as left you without a personality. That is so tragic. Of all the things to lose…a limb would have been more compassionate. I tried to watch your Thanksgiving special this morning, and found myself extremely thankful for the moment I changed the channel.
I thought prison would make you more charismatic – or at least more interesting. But no, there are no tear tats to talk about, no shank scar stories to tell, and no girlfriends named Bubba – at least none that you have disclosed.
I am in awe of how you have built an empire on teaching people how to make the kitschy knick knacks that usually end up on the 90% markdown shelf at gift stores throughout the country or as donations to local charities for the tax write off or – worse yet – as kindling for the insurance fire started to recoup the losses sustained attempting to build a sustainable business selling crap. And the people who receive it? One word: Regift.
I am really looking forward to watching you make snowmen out of marshmallows and the tears of small children at Christmas. Afterwards, I am going to drink myself into oblivion by consuming massive amounts of spoiled eggnog and spend the rest of the night singing “Oh Come All Ye Faithful” while dancing around the tree in my underwear and a Santa hat. I will need some method of forgetting the last hour and a half of my life that I’ll never get back.
I honestly don’t understand how a person who basically lives her creative outlet 24/7 can develop such a horrible reputation for being the world’s biggest biddy. I thought that outlets were important for maintaining emotional balance in life. And the stuff you do is even more important for helping housewives alleviate hours of boredom so that they don’t eventually go bat crazy from spending their days cooking, cleaning and chauffeuring and eat their own children.
Yet one of life’s anomalies for Pokey to ponder…
Happy Thanksgiving, you boring, bitch of a woman. I am sure you will be the one with the last laugh, as you stuff the Turkey’s butt with a mixture of cranberry stuffing and hatred.
-Pokey
Friday, November 12, 2010
Random: ??????????????????????
Dear Blog,
It has been awhile. I know I have neglected you. I told you I was going out for milk and would be back soon...that was 3 weeks ago. I can only imagine what you have told your shrink. Can't be good.
The truth is, I have been working. Yes, unimaginable - me actually earning dough. It has been rough. And I think I actually miss unemployment. I have also neglected Oprah and the rest of the daytime television lineup.
But here I am, just a girl, standing here, asking you to love me. Knock, knock - who's there? Friendship. Won't you let me in? No, not unless you have pizza. And not any of that Digiorno crap..."tastes like delivery" just like my farts smell like gum drops.
So the manager at the nameless fatory of drudgery came to my desk all in a huff. And he asked me about a letter I'd issued that day - one of the 89 gajillion so of course I had no idea what he was talking about. Anyhoo, he gave me this spiel about how I shouldn't issue a letter without his approval and blah blah blah and how I'd better run across the way to the other building and make sure that the mail clerks didn't send out the letter...Ummmmmmmm. Mr. Manager. First off, the task was sent to me to mail the letter. So if you want to publicize anyone's fail, blame the adjustor who sent the task in the first place. Second of all, until you decide to stop firing people right and left, leaving me (a TEMP) and one other girl to do the work of THREE full timers, then stop telling me I need to run ANYWHERE when the other girl is on lunch break and we need someone to man the phones unless YOU want to take new losses. Seriously. Stop wasting my time. I am far too intelligent and important to put up with this. You see the ESQ. behind my name??? Yes. That means you suck and I don't. Seriously...But that was what I should have said. What I said: I am so sorry. I will call the mailroom right away and remedy this situation. And that's just what I did.
And why??? Because Pokey is humble and I put my pants on the same way you do - one leg at a time, unless I put them on two legs at a time.
This rant is going nowhere. Someone get in their car and come pick me up. I want to go out. Cuz I gotta feelin that tonight's gonna be a good good night. Wooohooo.
Peace in the middle east. What what.
Pokey
It has been awhile. I know I have neglected you. I told you I was going out for milk and would be back soon...that was 3 weeks ago. I can only imagine what you have told your shrink. Can't be good.
The truth is, I have been working. Yes, unimaginable - me actually earning dough. It has been rough. And I think I actually miss unemployment. I have also neglected Oprah and the rest of the daytime television lineup.
But here I am, just a girl, standing here, asking you to love me. Knock, knock - who's there? Friendship. Won't you let me in? No, not unless you have pizza. And not any of that Digiorno crap..."tastes like delivery" just like my farts smell like gum drops.
So the manager at the nameless fatory of drudgery came to my desk all in a huff. And he asked me about a letter I'd issued that day - one of the 89 gajillion so of course I had no idea what he was talking about. Anyhoo, he gave me this spiel about how I shouldn't issue a letter without his approval and blah blah blah and how I'd better run across the way to the other building and make sure that the mail clerks didn't send out the letter...Ummmmmmmm. Mr. Manager. First off, the task was sent to me to mail the letter. So if you want to publicize anyone's fail, blame the adjustor who sent the task in the first place. Second of all, until you decide to stop firing people right and left, leaving me (a TEMP) and one other girl to do the work of THREE full timers, then stop telling me I need to run ANYWHERE when the other girl is on lunch break and we need someone to man the phones unless YOU want to take new losses. Seriously. Stop wasting my time. I am far too intelligent and important to put up with this. You see the ESQ. behind my name??? Yes. That means you suck and I don't. Seriously...But that was what I should have said. What I said: I am so sorry. I will call the mailroom right away and remedy this situation. And that's just what I did.
And why??? Because Pokey is humble and I put my pants on the same way you do - one leg at a time, unless I put them on two legs at a time.
This rant is going nowhere. Someone get in their car and come pick me up. I want to go out. Cuz I gotta feelin that tonight's gonna be a good good night. Wooohooo.
Peace in the middle east. What what.
Pokey
Monday, October 18, 2010
A Rant: 10 Things I Hate About the Movie 10 Things I Hate About You
1.) The title is misleading. I did some research and found the poem read by Julia Stiles to Heath Ledger’s (RIP) character online and, it turns out, there aren’t 10, but 13 ways she hates him. The entire movie was a lie. I feel so dirty.
2.) Julia Stiles. If I could take your face and shove it into a waffle iron, I would. But somebody obviously beat me to it.
3.) Alex Mack. Alex Mack, your attempt to cross over from Nickelodeon to the mainstream failed. You were horrible without super powers and completely unbelievable as a normal teen.
4.) References to Sarah Lawrence. Apparently, all intelligent, conformity despising females are required to read Sylvia Platt, listen to indie rock, attend all-girls liberal arts colleges and be named Kat. Otherwise you can’t be “alternative.” Whatever happened to getting tattoos and smoking illegal narcotics? Seriously, Miss Stereotype: Take your Bronte sisters, your Dickinsons and your Sedgwicks and shove em up your derrière. I much prefer Sophie Kinsella and Helen Fielding.
5.) How dare they adapt a William Shakespeare classic in such an impertinent manner. If ol’ Billy Boy were here, I am sure he’d have something to say about this, like, “This sucketh mightily. Could I loatheth Julia Stiles more? I thinketh not!”
6.) Andrew Keegan, you are not and have never been good looking. Please stop trying so hard.
7.) I could think of a million better things to do with the 1 hour and 41 minutes that it takes to get through this audacious slap in the face to teen classics. Like a get Brazilian wax, have my left ear cut off and sent to a person of Picasso’s choosing, eat a worm, move to China, take part in a raw sheep’s liver eating contest, or spend time having coffee and chatting about life with Nancy Grace…
8.) And the whole prom scene…seriously. Could you get more cliché? I am sorry, but the prom never turns out like that. Most people go home, with broken nails and torn panty hose, hating themselves for spending too much money on an outfit they will never wear again and wishing they could have those 5 hours of their lives back that they spent prepping themselves for nothing. And the girls aren’t happy either.
9.) Julia Stiles. Can I please get some intonation? Your voice is as flat as your chest, for Greg Brady’s sake! If I was your director, I’d have someone slip a mild stimulant into your fake beer at the party scene…then maybe your intoxication would have seemed slightly more realistic. No wait…if I’d been the director, I wouldn’t have allowed you on set in the first place. My bad. And you call yourself an actress. For shame!
10.) And the 10th thing I hate about the movie 10 Things I Hate About You: It came out 11 years ago – which means I am old. Officially. And you are too, because you remember it as well as I do. It used to be so popular…just like we used to be young. I hate being reminded.
-Pokey
2.) Julia Stiles. If I could take your face and shove it into a waffle iron, I would. But somebody obviously beat me to it.
3.) Alex Mack. Alex Mack, your attempt to cross over from Nickelodeon to the mainstream failed. You were horrible without super powers and completely unbelievable as a normal teen.
4.) References to Sarah Lawrence. Apparently, all intelligent, conformity despising females are required to read Sylvia Platt, listen to indie rock, attend all-girls liberal arts colleges and be named Kat. Otherwise you can’t be “alternative.” Whatever happened to getting tattoos and smoking illegal narcotics? Seriously, Miss Stereotype: Take your Bronte sisters, your Dickinsons and your Sedgwicks and shove em up your derrière. I much prefer Sophie Kinsella and Helen Fielding.
5.) How dare they adapt a William Shakespeare classic in such an impertinent manner. If ol’ Billy Boy were here, I am sure he’d have something to say about this, like, “This sucketh mightily. Could I loatheth Julia Stiles more? I thinketh not!”
6.) Andrew Keegan, you are not and have never been good looking. Please stop trying so hard.
7.) I could think of a million better things to do with the 1 hour and 41 minutes that it takes to get through this audacious slap in the face to teen classics. Like a get Brazilian wax, have my left ear cut off and sent to a person of Picasso’s choosing, eat a worm, move to China, take part in a raw sheep’s liver eating contest, or spend time having coffee and chatting about life with Nancy Grace…
8.) And the whole prom scene…seriously. Could you get more cliché? I am sorry, but the prom never turns out like that. Most people go home, with broken nails and torn panty hose, hating themselves for spending too much money on an outfit they will never wear again and wishing they could have those 5 hours of their lives back that they spent prepping themselves for nothing. And the girls aren’t happy either.
9.) Julia Stiles. Can I please get some intonation? Your voice is as flat as your chest, for Greg Brady’s sake! If I was your director, I’d have someone slip a mild stimulant into your fake beer at the party scene…then maybe your intoxication would have seemed slightly more realistic. No wait…if I’d been the director, I wouldn’t have allowed you on set in the first place. My bad. And you call yourself an actress. For shame!
10.) And the 10th thing I hate about the movie 10 Things I Hate About You: It came out 11 years ago – which means I am old. Officially. And you are too, because you remember it as well as I do. It used to be so popular…just like we used to be young. I hate being reminded.
-Pokey
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