• ICYMI: This one was a favorite of mine because the dude’s website that inspired it is pure hilarity!!

    So, the ICYMIs continue. No, not because I’m lazy. Mostly, not because I’m lazy. Maybe a teeny, tiny bit because I’m lazy. Why are you still focusing on whether or not I’m lazy? You have to move on. You are obsessed. You should probably see someone about your problem.

    Sweet Baby Jesus! Tell me this isn’t true!

    Published on July 26, 2013

    This dude is so freaking funny. I have worked my way through his entire blog. And I got to his beard maintenance post… No, funny people, I don’t need to maintain MY beard, wankers. Sorry for calling you wankers. You hurt my feelings and I retaliated like a small child. I was wrong. Stop giggling about the beard maintenance though. For real. I can still hear you snickering. Anyway, I was hee hawing my way through the post when I got to the alarming allusion that we unwittingly swallow like 8 freaking spiders over the course of our lifetime!!!! WHAT!!!!!! And I began hyperventilating. So, I had to begin meditating which is when I remembered that I’ve never meditated. I’ve always thought it would be something I’d like to learn how to do because, duh, I’m a little high-strung, but I’ve never done it. At least successfully. So, I tried it for like 8 seconds. ohm ohm ohm OHM MY GOD 8 FREAKING SPIDERSSSSS!!!!! And I remembered that my friend google would be able to help me here. And lo and behold. Oh, thank you Snopes! No, of course I wasn’t gullible enough to believe it. heh heh heh ahem It’s just that I’m a teensy bit squeamish about the ingestion of bugs of any nature. I can’t even watch it on tv without having to suppress a gag reflex at a particularly gratuitous shot. I congratulate myself on not losing my shit when I accidentally ingest a gnat. I internally slap an enthusiastic high five with myself and very very quietly yet audibly whisper, “You go, girl!” because I can never pull that off as I’m a total nerd but feel that it must be said. Outwardly, I’m all whatever. That was no big thing. But internally, I’m throwing a parade for myself. If I happen to find something in my food that shouldn’t be in my food, I immediately SHUT DOWN ALL CONSUMPTION. I have to restrain myself from shutting down consumption of all food everywhere around me. Oh, the times I’ve fought the urge to stand up on the table and declare loudly, “People, I feel I must tell you that I found a hair in my pasta. Yes, that’s right. A. hair. in. my. pasta. You should be scanning as I speak looking for stray non-food items on your plate. If it is not a utensil, you must immediately cease chewing, spit out all food particles in your mouth, and take a stand. We will later discuss whether or not we need to retreat to the restrooms to regurgitate our full meals. Oh, hello there. Thank you for taking a stand with me, small child. I see you have identified….wait. That’s your tooth. Did you just lose your tooth during dinner, dear? Well, congratulations! That’s awfully nice and yet not quite what I’m looking for here. Stand down, small child. You may return to your meal.” So, you see when I play out the scenario in my head why I haven’t taken a stand. You’re welcome fellow diners. Also, Matthew has quizzed me time and time again on whether or not it’s actually my hair. At least 10% of the time, I feel that he has a point. And I’m usually quite pissed that he’s poked a straight pin in my bubble of righteous indignation. So, reason #2 that you won’t see a youtube of me playing out this scene. Of course, reason #3 is the threat of someone capturing all of this and putting it up on youtube.

    April 23, 2015 • Humor, Utter nonsense • Views: 39

  • Thoughts on Mad Men: Season 7, The Forecast (SPOILERS)

    IMAGE CREDIT: Photo by AMC

    SPOILERS BELOW!

    Finally, one I could really sink my teeth into. I have to start at the end with that look of panic on Don’s face when the realtor looks at him after she confirms that she’s sold his place and says something about finding him a new one. Sheer panic. At a new start. How many times have we seen Don jump at the chance at a new start? Usually it’s been with a woman, though there have been some business ones as well. They’ve all been met with enthusiasm. Eagerness. I can’t recall EVER seeing panic on Don’s face at the idea of starting over. Even during his Hershey pitch performance of self-destruction that he orchestrated. He knew what he was doing during that meeting, but you didn’t see any panic. You saw severe and soul-crushing depression later, yes. As he understood that he had well and truly lost everything and realized that he actually missed it after all. But, Don’s always run towards a clean slate. Probably because he’s always been running away from something else.

    But not this time. And that’s why I have yet another confirmation that the boy (man) who’s been crying wolf for so many years has actually seen the wolf. Don really wants to make himself over completely. Sure, he’s not going to take any shit from the little brat that came to him for advice and then didn’t have the sense to suss out the message because the kid’s an idiot. But Don was perfectly willing to take Megan’s blows last week because they were warranted. But Mathis is a junior wannabe with energy and no real talent to boast about. And on top of that, he’s not even savvy enough to know how to fix his own mistakes. I mean think about it. Don’s almost roasted himself by talking about a gentle suicidal stroll into the Hawaiian surf (which was lovely image-wise and artistic as hell, although completely misguided for the client), and finally did the trick by talking to the Hershey folks who stared aghast as he regaled them with tales of growing up in a whorehouse and how that made him think of how much he loves Hershey’s. Hell, Rumsfeld had to finally piss himself to get the final boot and that was almost a noble exit. This kid can’t talk his way out of an f-bomb? Seriously? Yeah, kid, you don’t so much belong in the big leagues. So, no, Don’s not going to take shit from someone so ridiculous as that. But the words that kid uttered from someone Don respected? They would have packed quite a punch because Don’s trying, and I think he’s starting to recognize that nobody has his back. He’s a losing bet. His tenuous relationship with Sally is back on the rocks. He’d probably recognize that a good piece of that is the personal navigation a teen is trying to survive and take some of it with a grain of salt. Betty certainly understands that. Her interaction with Sally was surprisingly normal and, dare I say it, charming? Roger went to Ted before he went to “carousel Don” for the golden speech. Peggy sees right through Don’s agenda and cuts him down to size. She’s sick of being everyone’s pawn. The alliance they had forged is again on shaky ground. Everyone sees Don as a ticking time bomb. Don is just finally seeing that this is how he is viewed by even the “lowliest” members of the staff. It’s a wake-up call. It’s a bit hard to believe he’s missed how badly damaged and, in fact, possibly beyond repair his reputation has become while he’s been busy working on remaking himself.

    I think that final shot of Don’s face is meant to show that he’s going to really do it this time. For himself and nobody else. Whether that means he’s going to get on that bus Sally mentioned and go far away from “Don and Betty” as Sally intends and try things Sally’s way with a brand new start free of any trace of the old remnants of before; or whether he’s going to start over by taking the speedy descent from his balcony before the new owners take possession in 30 days; or whether, best of all, he tries something a little less “burn the house down” and really does figure out how to start over, miraculously leaving all traces of destructive Don behind…..well your guess is as good as mine.

    Notes

    • Ted’s going to die. I’ve got nothing more to say about it except this. I’m very sad to see this character reduced to what we are seeing now. Particularly with that ridiculous lip-rider. As GOB would say, “Oh, come ON!” Listen, Ted’s better than this, and I’m not going to be happy if this is all we are given for his exit. Plus, I’m going to hate Don for dragging him into this deal and killing him slowly day by day. Ted was never meant to be Roger, and his morphing into Rog is incredibly depressing because we know Ted’s character. And this is why I circle back to my first statement. Ted can’t exist in this state. He’s going to die and it will be an incredibly emotional situation like Lane Pryce. You heard it here first. I hope I’m wrong.
    • The fact that Robert has that initial and very intense reaction to the fact that Joan has a very young son doesn’t bode well as far as I can see. I’d very much like to see things work out for Joan, but such an intense reaction is hard to overcome. I’d have a lot of trouble believing he’d soften and accept a young family after that.
    • I was charmed by Sally and Glenn’s relationship. I’d prefer not to delve into Glenn and Betty’s only because they have something that bonds them and I have yet to determine what that is. Maybe it’s as simple as parents that never really saw them for who they are? But it seems deeper than that. But Sally and Glenn clearly care about each other very much, and that response that Sally had to Glenn’s announcement was so genuine. I continue to think Sally may be one of the most mature characters on the show despite the ups and downs emotionally that she is experiencing in the teen years. She is clearly very perceptive and is able to read most people almost as well as she is able to read her parents. That is a lot of information for someone of her age to process. Thankfully, she is reasonably mature, so she handles herself pretty well in a world too adult for her to be navigating at her age.

    I’m done for now, but I think I’ll have more to add to this later. This episode was my favorite so far. So much to chew on. So many avenues to explore. So many trails to potentially follow to the finale.

    April 20, 2015 • Featured, Television • Views: 24

  • Birds are spectacularly stupid. And apparently not averse to coming out of pocket for an extravagance if necessary.

    It’s a long one. This is therapeutic, people. And from what I understand, therapists don’t really have any interest in helping me work on my type of “issues” because apparently having birds living in your bathroom vent isn’t important unless one of them is your MOTHER or something. Or unless your mother is married to one of the birds in the vent, and now that bird is your horrible stepdad. And they are having like this weird human to avian relationship that my brain thankfully can’t figure out how to picture. Or unless your mother put them in the vent specifically to gaslight you while working with your husband and kids to make sure everyone looked at you with the pity face and performed an attention-grabbing “finger around the ear” motion whenever you talked about it. Apparently, I’m just not therapy-material. So, I’m lying on the couch, and you are sitting in the chair taking notes. Good luck to you.

    Know what birds do when the weather starts to finally (FINALLY – WINTER SUCKED Y’ALL!) get nice and beautiful? They start to get all into the baby production business. Well, first they start to get into the construction business. Which I dare say some of them genuinely suck at, for real. But most of them are damn fine constructioneers. Oh, that’s auctioneers. Constructioneers is not a word. But, maybe it should be? I’m adding it to my dictionary. Avian constructioneer geniuses. Like, seriously. What are they doing in the off season, anyway? Oh right. I guess that’s when they are concentrating on the music business. But I propose they quit both. I mean come on, everybody knows the music business is a grind. Shouldn’t they get in the construction business with both feet, er claws/talons. You know, after those yammerers have left the nest, and they look at each other all, “HOLY HELL, why do we do this to ourselves year after year, Bill???? They hatch, and they are so hideously ugly that they are adorable. But that lasts only briefly. Then, I just hate them with every fiber of my being, and count the hours until I can throw them out of the nest. Gently encourage them to leave the nest.” They really should just embrace construction, instead of the laying of the eggs; the sitting on the damn eggs; the listening to the creepy, irritating, never-ending, and for-the-love-of-all-that-is-sane-and-good-I-need-some-sleep-please-stop-scritching-and-scratching-for-one-bloody-second sound of the hatching; the ENDLESS fetching of food for the bottomless pits (“They are so tiny HOW CAN THEY STILL BE SCREECHING AND YELLING AT US FOR FOOD, BILL!!”); and then finally the violent shoving (oh, sorry dear, did I push you before you were ready?) of the birds out of the nest. Then, finally it’s time for the empty nest syndrome again which is an absolute joy. Have you seen how packed that nest gets there at the end? The tempers have got to be flaring 24/7 at the end with the beak in so-and-so’s back who has been unintentionally munching on his brother’s claw since the beginning of time because of the space situation. And his brother’s claw is so seriously rank, it’s a full-time job keeping the worms down so he can grow and high-tail it outta this shit show. Also, how did his brother’s claw get so damn rank? He just hatched. What in the holy hell was he doing in that egg. It’s not like there’s any room in there to do a thing but stare at your own ass and pray that either the end comes soon, or you are cooked enough to peck out of that damn shell. Wait, did I say cook? I definitely did NOT mean cook. Ahem, I was just saying it gets crowded in there at the end. Good grief. It’s not your typical roommate situation. The things these birds know about each others’ anatomy isn’t right, is what I’m saying. (Actually, some bird out there should definitely become a psychiatrist. Oh, the fat stacks in that bird’s future….)

    OK, I’m reaching the point of the post here at a word count of 1026. Nice and succinct, right? Therapeutic, people. You’re supposed to be here for me. Hey, here are pictures.

    BirdNestTree

    Bird Nest in a Tree – Birds Pass IQ and Constructioneer Tests

     

    Bird Nest in Vent - Birds Fail IQ Test and Almost Certainly Constructioneer Test As Well

    Bird Nest in Vent – Birds Fail IQ Test and Almost Certainly Constructioneer Test As Well

    Isn’t that second picture a real charmer? That’s where the avian mental giants built their nest. Brilliant, right? Yes, I can see where you’re maybe thinking, “Hey, at least it’s nice and protected from predators and such.” Listen. That vent has a cover on it. A cover that opens from time to time. These genius birds would obviously have no way to predict when that cover would open which means they would have to spend ridiculous amounts of time outside that vent waiting for it to open in order to get inside and set up their new digs. Are you starting to see why I have fashioned them little bird capes with the words “I’m with stupid.” on them? Good. We agree. Now, imagine these fools flying around out there waiting for the cover to open with their stash of nest items….waiting…..waiting…..waiting. We drive home day after day and find various detritus on the driveway under the vent. You’d think the birds might get a clue maybe? You’d be wrong. I’m guessing their makeshift and pathetic “nest” consists of feathers, beak and claw/talon shavings, and poop. Bird songs of “We did it!” wake me up in the morning. I am NOT a morning person, and also, geez, are they stupid. Morning after morning, I have contemplated ripping open that vent and climbing in to get them. Except I’m too big. They are lucky. Really lucky. Every few days, an odor so foul it cannot be described in any language that I have mastered will emit from that space, and the house will empty with humans fleeing with silent screams of horror. The screams would be audible but who wants to open their mouths and risk that rancidness entering their body? Who I ask you? And then, hours, or maybe a day later, the smell will disappear. I can only attribute this to a cleaning crew that this bird couple has hired to come in on the regular to clean up their most heinous mess. Which is that nest made of their biological matter. Hey dumbasses, that’s where the stink is coming from. And their process begins anew. And my seething continues its slow burn.

    To that cleaning crew I must say, your work does not go unappreciated. If I could tip you extravagantly, I certainly would do so.

    April 18, 2015 • Featured, Utter nonsense • Views: 43

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