Yard sales. A great place to find gems that have been hidden away under that box of yearbooks in someone’s attic. A great place to buy furniture, baby items, ugly Christmas sweaters, costume jewelry, figurines made out of seashells, and glow-in-the-dark felt pot leaf posters.
Yard sales. A place to find old 80’s workout tapes that have women with brightly colored high cut unitards on the covers. A place to find used winter coats and that nine iron that Jim used to chase off the neighbors dog who insisted on pissing on his begonias every afternoon. A place to find tools and old suitcases that smell like mothballs and plaid polyester. A place to find paintings so ugly, you have to buy them.
Yard sales. NOT a place to buy my intimate apparel.
No. No. No.
No.
I don’t want to buy underpants that YOU have declared are not good enough to keep. I don’t want the bras that you bought, wore, and decided didn’t give you enough “lift”, had uncomfortable under wires, or didn’t “breathe” well. I don’t care if they are a penny, or if you are giving them away for free (actually, that might be worse) … I don’t care HOW much they are. And don’t try and “pitch” the idea to me while I look at your other items. If I'm deeply considering purchasing your 1001 piece puzzle of rain on a window, I can PROMISE you I will not buy that OR your nasty junk covers when you are done with your little sales pitch about how much they cost at Belks when you bought them new.
Beside the fact that its just GROSS, I tend to wonder … why didn’t they make the cut? Are they too risqué? Do they ride up? Are they not “wedgie free”? Do they not match your skin tone? Do the straps dig into your shoulders?
WHAT???
WHAT IS IT?!
And its never hot intimate apparel. People are not selling thongs, or banana hammocks. Grandma Ruby is selling her Double H cone shaped bras and 3X full cover panties. I look at her and think … so does this mean she has moved into the edible underpants stage of her life? Is she suddenly into free ballin’? Is she reliving the "no bras" era of the 60s?
I’ll never know, and neither will you. Just don’t but the intimates Aunt Gertie is selling – the answers aren’t sewn in crotch of her unwanted briefs.
The truth is out there,
Mel
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Macaroni mouth art
So someone, cough, Krista (hey you are the one who said I should start the blog, which gives me eternal rights to call you out on said blog.) pointed out that my posts have an affinity for the F bomb and other *&@^#%'s. Some people feel this prevents them from sharing this blog with certain friends and family who have more classy vocabularies. I thought I should address this so that you could all understand my stance on dropping the F bomb and other colorful words, and why I feel this is not taboo.
First of all, I'd like to help you understand how I feel about "curse" words. To do this, I thought I should first explain a little about my brain. My brain works like a never ending Magna-Doodle. As I go about a normal day, people and situations are animated in my brain bowl. My husband calls this "cartoon-head". You can frequently hear him saying "I know exactly what this must look like in your cartoon-head right now." Everyone I encounter is a character of themselves, with their best (and worst) traits overly defined. Environments are exaggerated.
You get the idea.
Cartoon-head.
That said, this means that my view of "curse" words is a little skewed. I see the words others feel are "bad" like glitter. They enhance an already solid piece of artwork. Have YOU ever made a macaroni Christmas ornament without glitter?
Fuck no you haven't.
For instance, if I say: "That girl is wearing a fox skin wrap and a PETA shirt.", you get the idea - she's a contradiction to herself. Great. However, if I say: "That fucking chick is wearing a goddamn fox skin wrap and a mother-fucking PETA shirt. Pure douche-baggery." You get the message even better that this situation ... it ain't right.
If I say: "Did you just see that eagle swoop down and grab that baby rabbit?!" You get the sad, sad message. However - if I say: "DUDE. Did you just see that fucking eagle bum rush the fuck out of that baby rabbit and abduct the shit out of it?!" You've got a more glittery painting of the same event.
For those that prefer to remain classy with their word choices, I understand. Its' a personal choice and I don't fucking judge. However I believe that just because society tells you that these words are not classy, doesn't mean classy people can't sprinkle their sentences with "word glitter" every now and then. I mean, shit, just look at The Real Housewives of New Jersey (or New York, Atlanta, Orange County, and DC for that matter). Those bitches keep it real AND classy, proving that "word glitter" and Chanel can co-exist.
It also proves that people with a lot of fucking money that they didn't really earn themselves can run around being total ass-bags and no one says shit about it ... but that is for another blog.
So in conclusion, I'd like to say - embrace your "word glitter". Or don't - whatever. Just don't let anyone make you feel badly for enjoying MY use of "word glitter". We are all good at something ... I happen to be good at strategically placing the F bomb in a sentence. My mother, she's proud, I assure you.
Sticks and stones people,
Mel
First of all, I'd like to help you understand how I feel about "curse" words. To do this, I thought I should first explain a little about my brain. My brain works like a never ending Magna-Doodle. As I go about a normal day, people and situations are animated in my brain bowl. My husband calls this "cartoon-head". You can frequently hear him saying "I know exactly what this must look like in your cartoon-head right now." Everyone I encounter is a character of themselves, with their best (and worst) traits overly defined. Environments are exaggerated.
You get the idea.
Cartoon-head.
That said, this means that my view of "curse" words is a little skewed. I see the words others feel are "bad" like glitter. They enhance an already solid piece of artwork. Have YOU ever made a macaroni Christmas ornament without glitter?
Fuck no you haven't.
For instance, if I say: "That girl is wearing a fox skin wrap and a PETA shirt.", you get the idea - she's a contradiction to herself. Great. However, if I say: "That fucking chick is wearing a goddamn fox skin wrap and a mother-fucking PETA shirt. Pure douche-baggery." You get the message even better that this situation ... it ain't right.
If I say: "Did you just see that eagle swoop down and grab that baby rabbit?!" You get the sad, sad message. However - if I say: "DUDE. Did you just see that fucking eagle bum rush the fuck out of that baby rabbit and abduct the shit out of it?!" You've got a more glittery painting of the same event.
For those that prefer to remain classy with their word choices, I understand. Its' a personal choice and I don't fucking judge. However I believe that just because society tells you that these words are not classy, doesn't mean classy people can't sprinkle their sentences with "word glitter" every now and then. I mean, shit, just look at The Real Housewives of New Jersey (or New York, Atlanta, Orange County, and DC for that matter). Those bitches keep it real AND classy, proving that "word glitter" and Chanel can co-exist.
It also proves that people with a lot of fucking money that they didn't really earn themselves can run around being total ass-bags and no one says shit about it ... but that is for another blog.
So in conclusion, I'd like to say - embrace your "word glitter". Or don't - whatever. Just don't let anyone make you feel badly for enjoying MY use of "word glitter". We are all good at something ... I happen to be good at strategically placing the F bomb in a sentence. My mother, she's proud, I assure you.
Sticks and stones people,
Mel
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Bank + my $$ = Fuck you.
As the most popular girl in the 8th grade class would say, "OMG! It’s been like 4-EVA" since I blogged. My bad. It’s been straight crazy around this bitch lately. But the upside is that all the crazy has given me plenty to write about.
Recently my dear hubs was the victim of identity theft. Some fucker stole his bank card number and recreated a card and proceeded to run around and spend over 300 dollars at Wendy’s and various gas stations. No, don’t re-read that. You read it correctly the first time. Wendy’s and gas stations.
That said, I have a few points to address:
1. Who eats at Wendy’s that many times in one week? Really, I mean ... you STOLE the information, you are a hardcore criminal, and while I will agree that Wendy’s frosty’s are the bee knees, I’m not sure I would want to spend ALL my hard earned stolen cash on them. Maybe go out and get a massive steak. You know, the kind of steak that doesn’t even have the price on the menu its so ridiculously expensive – it just says:
32 oz. ribeye …............................................................... Market pricing.
Eat like 7 of those. Or order 7 and get a doggie bag.
Whatever.
2. We’ve put people, monkeys, and robots into space. We know when someone has illegally downloaded music on their Uncle Harvey’s computer. The government has been fairly successful at covering up all kinds of bullshit. Chris Hansen can catch a predator. So WHY on earth have we not figured out how to catch the asshole who pretends to be someone they are not while sucking money of an account that does not belong to them? I mean – I try and buy a gallon of milk at Walmart and they are all like, “We are gonna need a photo ID, blood, a pee sample, and a biopsy of your kidney to keep on file if you want to use your bank card for this here gallon of milk.”
So how does this stellar member of our community spend hundreds of dollars with no one blinking an eye? Better yet, um, what are video surveillance used for these days? Just there to catch sexual harassment footage. And its HA-RASS-MENT not HAIR-ISS-MENT. I hate people who pronounce it HAIR-ISS-MENT.
Annoying.
3. The almighty bank. The purpose of a bank is to secure ones monies for saving or spending. Banks, you exist because during the evolution of man, we realized that keeping significant amounts of valuable shit in our mattresses turned out to be a really bad idea. Word got around, and the drunk village asshole broke into your shit and stole not only your money, but your fucking bed. Great. Now you’re broke and bed less. Not cool. So some dude in Ancient Mesopotamia came up with the idea of a bank. He was all “Hey! I’ll hold your shit that’s worth something and you can get it whenever you need it and hopefully this will keep peeps from burning down your shitty hut and stealing your straw bed piggy bank.”
And so – we started using banks. Well – wouldn’t you know it, like everything else that we “civilized” folks have touched; we screwed that idea up too. So my question is, Wachovia/Wells Fargo/Assholes Inc., why was it that when my shit got stolen (for at LEAST the 10th time in 15 years I’ve been with you) you didn’t do anything? Why was it that when I called to say – “Ummm hey – I don’t eat at Wendy’s like ever and I don’t live in the city where said debits were made “ , you were all -- “Oh yeah... we had these flagged as fraud and marked as a possible counterfeit card, but we didn’t tell you AND we still let them use your card nonstop for 5 days, AND we haven’t refunded ANY of your money.” ?
Devil bank – you blow. It took you a week and a half to give us back our money. This wouldn’t matter if we had a lot of money, although I also believe that if we had tens of thousands of dollars in your “bank” this would not have gone on as long as it had because some jerk-off in your fraud department would have had a little red button to push when one of the richer people's money was being messed with. And then that news would travel smoothly through the proper channels, said fraudulent debits would have been refunded in moments, and all eyes would have been on this account for further bogus activity, because pissing off a rich customer is much more detrimental to your bottom line than pissing off the broke peeps.
We had to swear on our first borns’ pinky finger that we didn’t eat at Wendy’s and we didn’t buy lots of gas in a town we don’t live in. We had to sign lots of scary papers filled with lawyer speak (that you lost after we sent them back to you). We had to call you everyday and help you with addition. (FYI - Bank math is not like regular math. They use a system I like to call, the “I can’t add simple numerals together” system.) I had to take highlighted print outs of our account to a branch to help you fuckers understand.
Anyway – this blog is less funny and more bitchy, but you get the idea. All I’m saying is don’t be surprised when I fall off the grid and then shortly after Wachovia/Wells Fargo/Assholes Inc. finds out that several of their large funds have been drained and the money was spent on string cheese in various parts of the world. Screw me once, my fault. Screw me 10 or more times, I'm fucking your world up with highlighters and a bad attitude. And it's quite possible my husband will pistol whip you. (He asked me to put that in here, but I'm pretty sure he would really do it.)
Trust no one with your pesos,
Mel
Recently my dear hubs was the victim of identity theft. Some fucker stole his bank card number and recreated a card and proceeded to run around and spend over 300 dollars at Wendy’s and various gas stations. No, don’t re-read that. You read it correctly the first time. Wendy’s and gas stations.
That said, I have a few points to address:
1. Who eats at Wendy’s that many times in one week? Really, I mean ... you STOLE the information, you are a hardcore criminal, and while I will agree that Wendy’s frosty’s are the bee knees, I’m not sure I would want to spend ALL my hard earned stolen cash on them. Maybe go out and get a massive steak. You know, the kind of steak that doesn’t even have the price on the menu its so ridiculously expensive – it just says:
32 oz. ribeye …............................................................... Market pricing.
Eat like 7 of those. Or order 7 and get a doggie bag.
Whatever.
2. We’ve put people, monkeys, and robots into space. We know when someone has illegally downloaded music on their Uncle Harvey’s computer. The government has been fairly successful at covering up all kinds of bullshit. Chris Hansen can catch a predator. So WHY on earth have we not figured out how to catch the asshole who pretends to be someone they are not while sucking money of an account that does not belong to them? I mean – I try and buy a gallon of milk at Walmart and they are all like, “We are gonna need a photo ID, blood, a pee sample, and a biopsy of your kidney to keep on file if you want to use your bank card for this here gallon of milk.”
So how does this stellar member of our community spend hundreds of dollars with no one blinking an eye? Better yet, um, what are video surveillance used for these days? Just there to catch sexual harassment footage. And its HA-RASS-MENT not HAIR-ISS-MENT. I hate people who pronounce it HAIR-ISS-MENT.
Annoying.
3. The almighty bank. The purpose of a bank is to secure ones monies for saving or spending. Banks, you exist because during the evolution of man, we realized that keeping significant amounts of valuable shit in our mattresses turned out to be a really bad idea. Word got around, and the drunk village asshole broke into your shit and stole not only your money, but your fucking bed. Great. Now you’re broke and bed less. Not cool. So some dude in Ancient Mesopotamia came up with the idea of a bank. He was all “Hey! I’ll hold your shit that’s worth something and you can get it whenever you need it and hopefully this will keep peeps from burning down your shitty hut and stealing your straw bed piggy bank.”
And so – we started using banks. Well – wouldn’t you know it, like everything else that we “civilized” folks have touched; we screwed that idea up too. So my question is, Wachovia/Wells Fargo/Assholes Inc., why was it that when my shit got stolen (for at LEAST the 10th time in 15 years I’ve been with you) you didn’t do anything? Why was it that when I called to say – “Ummm hey – I don’t eat at Wendy’s like ever and I don’t live in the city where said debits were made “ , you were all -- “Oh yeah... we had these flagged as fraud and marked as a possible counterfeit card, but we didn’t tell you AND we still let them use your card nonstop for 5 days, AND we haven’t refunded ANY of your money.” ?
Devil bank – you blow. It took you a week and a half to give us back our money. This wouldn’t matter if we had a lot of money, although I also believe that if we had tens of thousands of dollars in your “bank” this would not have gone on as long as it had because some jerk-off in your fraud department would have had a little red button to push when one of the richer people's money was being messed with. And then that news would travel smoothly through the proper channels, said fraudulent debits would have been refunded in moments, and all eyes would have been on this account for further bogus activity, because pissing off a rich customer is much more detrimental to your bottom line than pissing off the broke peeps.
We had to swear on our first borns’ pinky finger that we didn’t eat at Wendy’s and we didn’t buy lots of gas in a town we don’t live in. We had to sign lots of scary papers filled with lawyer speak (that you lost after we sent them back to you). We had to call you everyday and help you with addition. (FYI - Bank math is not like regular math. They use a system I like to call, the “I can’t add simple numerals together” system.) I had to take highlighted print outs of our account to a branch to help you fuckers understand.
Anyway – this blog is less funny and more bitchy, but you get the idea. All I’m saying is don’t be surprised when I fall off the grid and then shortly after Wachovia/Wells Fargo/Assholes Inc. finds out that several of their large funds have been drained and the money was spent on string cheese in various parts of the world. Screw me once, my fault. Screw me 10 or more times, I'm fucking your world up with highlighters and a bad attitude. And it's quite possible my husband will pistol whip you. (He asked me to put that in here, but I'm pretty sure he would really do it.)
Trust no one with your pesos,
Mel
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
A porcupine will straight fuck you up and that is refreshing ...
Transparent people.
Annoying.
As human beings, we have a lot of shit to deal with. We have to expel a lot of energy to keep the many balls in the air that we believe we have to juggle to live up to some standard we've set for ourselves. Considering all that, why on earth would you want to waste more personal energy pretending to be someone you are not?
If you are not a nice person, stop being overly affectionate. If you don't like me, stop kissing my ass. If you don't enjoy other people's company, don't join the social club. If you are allergic to peanuts, don't eat a Snickers bar.
I'm just saying, why are we the only species who feels the need to play mind games? Grizzly bears either eat your face, or they don't. There is none of this gray area bullshit where they are all "I want to eat your face, but I feel like social pressures and my own insecurities require me to eat your face in a less direct way." No. Grizzly bears don't walk around all, "I approve of your decisions on the outside, but talk mad shit about you and your decisions behind your back."
F that.
If you think my decisions blow, say something. If you don't have the balls to say something, then shut the fuck up and hibernate. I'm just saying, we all see right through your fake-ass-kiss-kiss-make-nice BS.
Stop it.
A porcupine can't wear a silk robe, ya dig?
A porcupine just walks around all "Listen bitches, I've got quills. Mean ass quills. And these shits HURT. So take that for what its worth, don't fucking try and hug me. I'll cut a bitch."
I appreciate that.
Thank you porcupine.
Thanks for not being full of shit.
I won't try and hug you, its all good.
Just say "No" kids,
Mel
Annoying.
As human beings, we have a lot of shit to deal with. We have to expel a lot of energy to keep the many balls in the air that we believe we have to juggle to live up to some standard we've set for ourselves. Considering all that, why on earth would you want to waste more personal energy pretending to be someone you are not?
If you are not a nice person, stop being overly affectionate. If you don't like me, stop kissing my ass. If you don't enjoy other people's company, don't join the social club. If you are allergic to peanuts, don't eat a Snickers bar.
I'm just saying, why are we the only species who feels the need to play mind games? Grizzly bears either eat your face, or they don't. There is none of this gray area bullshit where they are all "I want to eat your face, but I feel like social pressures and my own insecurities require me to eat your face in a less direct way." No. Grizzly bears don't walk around all, "I approve of your decisions on the outside, but talk mad shit about you and your decisions behind your back."
F that.
If you think my decisions blow, say something. If you don't have the balls to say something, then shut the fuck up and hibernate. I'm just saying, we all see right through your fake-ass-kiss-kiss-make-nice BS.
Stop it.
A porcupine can't wear a silk robe, ya dig?
A porcupine just walks around all "Listen bitches, I've got quills. Mean ass quills. And these shits HURT. So take that for what its worth, don't fucking try and hug me. I'll cut a bitch."
I appreciate that.
Thank you porcupine.
Thanks for not being full of shit.
I won't try and hug you, its all good.
Just say "No" kids,
Mel
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Dish Network - an offer you can't refuse...
I'm not even sure this NEEDS words to go with it.
So here's the deal. A local Mexican restaurant has a wide array of business cards and flyers near the cash register that you can not help but eyeball while paying your nicely priced lunch bill. Among the "Meth rehab meeting schedules" (sadly this is not a joke) and information from your local Avon representative, was this gem.
Now, given that I went to a women's college and was a minor in Women's Studies, I'm sure you know where this is going ....
I don't speak Spanish, but I gotta tell you this business card's message is load and clear...
Up to 4 receivers installed?!! Are you toying with my emotions?
Dish Network can fill 4 of my rooms with mind numbing, brain deteriorating, soul eating, television programming??? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?
I could have Rosanne on in one room (I still can't believe Dan actually died) , and Jake and the Fatman, A Baby Story AND that crazy Japanese game show on in others?
How on earth have I been living with Time Warner Cable and our one receiver all this time?
I'm calling immediately.
And look: !!!
The back of this card boasts 3 months of Showtime and HBO! And among the channels you get, are FoxSports, Discovery, and PLAYBOY TV.Thats it, deal sealed.
Dish Network here I come.
Sex sells,
Mel
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Side of Ranch mega FAIL
Maddi and I went out for lunch:
Me: I’ll have a small pepperoni pizza. Oh, and can I get a side of Ranch dressing with that?
Waitress: Sure.
She starts to walk away and then comes back with a weird look on her face.
Waitress: Um. I can’t give you a side of Ranch dressing.
Me: Uhhhhhh, what?
Waitress: Well, we buy the Ranch in bulk, and it comes in a big container and I can’t bring that out here. Can I put it in a small plastic dressing cup?
Me: That sounds like an excellent idea.
Waitress: Awesome, Ok.
That happened.
In real life.
No joke.
She walked away super proud that she solved my Ranch dressing dilemma. I sat there for a bit thinking, WTF? Did I actually hear all that correctly?? Sadly, she was at least in her mid-twenties, so we can not even blame her age or lack of experience with, well … anything at all.
I’m STILL trying understand what the fuck she thought “a side of Ranch dressing” meant. I mean, I certainly cannot be the only person who has ever asked her for a side of something. Maddi ordered chicken fingers and SHE asked if she wanted a SIDE OF HONEY MUSTARD … Are they not the same thing?
No, they are not.
Because they buy the Ranch in bulk.
Which seriously complicates matters apparently.
So I created this informative poster for restaurants to have in the back area, near the other informative posters that explain in both words and visuals commonly misunderstood requests, so that other cranially challenged waitresses can understand that a kiddie pool of Ranch dressing is NOT considered a "side":
At least she has her killer eye liner and fake lashes to fall back on… oh and her mad problem solving skills.
Me: I’ll have a small pepperoni pizza. Oh, and can I get a side of Ranch dressing with that?
Waitress: Sure.
She starts to walk away and then comes back with a weird look on her face.
Waitress: Um. I can’t give you a side of Ranch dressing.
Me: Uhhhhhh, what?
Waitress: Well, we buy the Ranch in bulk, and it comes in a big container and I can’t bring that out here. Can I put it in a small plastic dressing cup?
Me: That sounds like an excellent idea.
Waitress: Awesome, Ok.
That happened.
In real life.
No joke.
She walked away super proud that she solved my Ranch dressing dilemma. I sat there for a bit thinking, WTF? Did I actually hear all that correctly?? Sadly, she was at least in her mid-twenties, so we can not even blame her age or lack of experience with, well … anything at all.
I’m STILL trying understand what the fuck she thought “a side of Ranch dressing” meant. I mean, I certainly cannot be the only person who has ever asked her for a side of something. Maddi ordered chicken fingers and SHE asked if she wanted a SIDE OF HONEY MUSTARD … Are they not the same thing?
No, they are not.
Because they buy the Ranch in bulk.
Which seriously complicates matters apparently.
So I created this informative poster for restaurants to have in the back area, near the other informative posters that explain in both words and visuals commonly misunderstood requests, so that other cranially challenged waitresses can understand that a kiddie pool of Ranch dressing is NOT considered a "side":
At least she has her killer eye liner and fake lashes to fall back on… oh and her mad problem solving skills.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Spinner says ...
So I have been given the excellent gift of being able to “Ghost Write” on the Bad Ass blog. A gift for me, and hopefully, a gift for you as well. I spent some time last night trying to think of how to keep you entertained for just a brief period of time. If I make this too long you won’t want to go all the way to the end; it’s a blog, not a novel. If its too short, you will wonder why I even had an announcement in the first place. You don’t announce a sneeze, right…
Quickly, a snapshot of me…. I have been friends with Mel for just over 10 years. Knowing her and all of the characters in her blog enhance the experience for me 10 fold. FYI, I would read it anyway just for the entertainment factor. So we chat on skype from time to time and our dialogue should be recorded. Seriously, it’s better than radio morning shows. Back on track…… So I like to peruse every issue in our discussions from a third party point of view. I try not to fit in any type of conformity on any issue (i.e. politics, religion, social or economical debate, etc.) Mostly because I don’t care about the details that everyone else seems to fall over. I don’t like or dislike any president because of his party affiliation; either he does a good job or not. I don’t find solitude in your issues because the invisible man in the sky you pray too (which may or may not be different than mine) told you everything will be fine and just keep praying. So lets put away our Obama bumper stickers and our rosary beads and lets talk about something we all need to really worry about……
This is usually where you find yourself prematurely judging the blog. “I watch reality television, and I like it. This Spinner guy sucks.” Put down the pitchforks and torches and lets have a gander at what we are actually watching.
If I were to tell you that I would want you to give me money to watch your family through a cardboard square you attach to your face, what would you say? “Absolutely not”. You would think that your family is not as entertaining or not as beautiful as the people on the Jersey Shore.
** OH, and a quick side not on beautiful people. Science has shown that people find others attractive based on symmetry. People that are even and symmetrical are attractive to the eye.
Take away from the fact that these poor, poor ladies have misplaced portions of their swimsuits. The faces are all symmetrical. In fact, there are eight of them. Symmetry in the photograph; good work on the photographer’s part. One more……
You can sleep easy knowing that Hannah Hilton did not ask for one breast to be larger than the other at the surgeon’s office. If you can make it to her face, that’s symmetrical too. So being beautiful is more about nature blessing you with symmetry than what Gucci accessories you can slap on a 90-year-old woman with one peg leg and one eye patch. (Smart money says her breasts would be uneven too)
Yet, while you waste you life away waiting to see what “The Situation” is going to do next, reality is passing you by. You want to defend yourself by saying that you don’t actually pay money to the shows. But, you might buy the Glad bags or the Revlon makeup from the commercials, and they pay “Snookie”. So lets review some basic Mathmatics…
You have to pay your cable and Satellite provider for the channel as well. A&E and Oxygen are not local channels even if you live next door to the station. So do us all a favor and turn around. Your kids are hungry, the grass needs to be cut, and you haven’t showered yet today. There’s a lot of free reality right behind you. I promise Snooky and The Situation will not even notice that you’ve left for someone better. Because you have left for someone better…. YOU!
In the interest of keeping it short, I’m wrapping this up for now. Later, if interested, we could discuss symmetry in Linguistics (-,--,-,--), or a multitude of other topics. Life is short, if you want to know what being dead is like, just remember what is was like before you were born… it will be just like that. So live it up. We’re all only here for a little while; thanks for being here with me for a little while tonight. Thanks so much to Mel for letting me in!! Lets hope she doesn’t change the locks.
Now Turn off Your TV! You’re missing the best reality show right behind you…
Spinner
Quickly, a snapshot of me…. I have been friends with Mel for just over 10 years. Knowing her and all of the characters in her blog enhance the experience for me 10 fold. FYI, I would read it anyway just for the entertainment factor. So we chat on skype from time to time and our dialogue should be recorded. Seriously, it’s better than radio morning shows. Back on track…… So I like to peruse every issue in our discussions from a third party point of view. I try not to fit in any type of conformity on any issue (i.e. politics, religion, social or economical debate, etc.) Mostly because I don’t care about the details that everyone else seems to fall over. I don’t like or dislike any president because of his party affiliation; either he does a good job or not. I don’t find solitude in your issues because the invisible man in the sky you pray too (which may or may not be different than mine) told you everything will be fine and just keep praying. So lets put away our Obama bumper stickers and our rosary beads and lets talk about something we all need to really worry about……
REALITY TELEVISION
This is usually where you find yourself prematurely judging the blog. “I watch reality television, and I like it. This Spinner guy sucks.” Put down the pitchforks and torches and lets have a gander at what we are actually watching.
If I were to tell you that I would want you to give me money to watch your family through a cardboard square you attach to your face, what would you say? “Absolutely not”. You would think that your family is not as entertaining or not as beautiful as the people on the Jersey Shore.
** OH, and a quick side not on beautiful people. Science has shown that people find others attractive based on symmetry. People that are even and symmetrical are attractive to the eye.
Take away from the fact that these poor, poor ladies have misplaced portions of their swimsuits. The faces are all symmetrical. In fact, there are eight of them. Symmetry in the photograph; good work on the photographer’s part. One more……
You can sleep easy knowing that Hannah Hilton did not ask for one breast to be larger than the other at the surgeon’s office. If you can make it to her face, that’s symmetrical too. So being beautiful is more about nature blessing you with symmetry than what Gucci accessories you can slap on a 90-year-old woman with one peg leg and one eye patch. (Smart money says her breasts would be uneven too)
Yet, while you waste you life away waiting to see what “The Situation” is going to do next, reality is passing you by. You want to defend yourself by saying that you don’t actually pay money to the shows. But, you might buy the Glad bags or the Revlon makeup from the commercials, and they pay “Snookie”. So lets review some basic Mathmatics…
If A = B, and B = C, then… (Say it with me) A = C
You pay Revlon and Revlon pays Snookie, so you pay Snookie.
Guilty, NEXT CASE!
You pay Revlon and Revlon pays Snookie, so you pay Snookie.
Guilty, NEXT CASE!
You have to pay your cable and Satellite provider for the channel as well. A&E and Oxygen are not local channels even if you live next door to the station. So do us all a favor and turn around. Your kids are hungry, the grass needs to be cut, and you haven’t showered yet today. There’s a lot of free reality right behind you. I promise Snooky and The Situation will not even notice that you’ve left for someone better. Because you have left for someone better…. YOU!
In the interest of keeping it short, I’m wrapping this up for now. Later, if interested, we could discuss symmetry in Linguistics (-,--,-,--), or a multitude of other topics. Life is short, if you want to know what being dead is like, just remember what is was like before you were born… it will be just like that. So live it up. We’re all only here for a little while; thanks for being here with me for a little while tonight. Thanks so much to Mel for letting me in!! Lets hope she doesn’t change the locks.
Now Turn off Your TV! You’re missing the best reality show right behind you…
Spinner
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