Posts Tagged ‘Humor’

(sent to me via email by one of my besties…like I needed the reminder)

I’m not sure when or how the hell it happened. One minute I was in my summer dress sipping on delicious chocolatey milkshakes, working on my already awesome permanently,  cinnamon-y tan; and then the next, it seems like  I blinked and suddenly I was in Shop-Rite looking for ingredients with which to anal-probe some poor bird who never really had a shot at life once the egg  hatched.

This time of year, every year,  can be usually more straining than others. It’s something about the holidays that makes all the brain chemicals coagulate or combine or explode and bring about even greater dysfunction than usual. Besides the stores (who suddenly feel the need to play “Jingle Bell Rock” in fucking September.), you will then also have to deal with family.  As someone who comes from a large family (and has also fully accepted the fact that she ain’t totally right in the head, but is trying to find a way to make it work) I already know what happens when different personalities collide.  The holidays may sometimes make you have the urge to take a big bowl of mashed potatoes and dump them over your sister’s suede boots because you suddenly remembered that time she took your favorite gold earrings and lost them. Or you might have to deal with your mom’s none too subtle guilt trips and comparisons between you and the siblings that she swears she doesn’t favor more than you. Maybe, just maybe you feel the need to “accidentally” stick your foot out and make your cousin trip face first into the bowl of jellied cranberry sauce (these things happen.)

Yeah, yeah; I’m sure once upon a time it was possible to have a “normal” family gathering complete with the prerequisite 2.5 kids,  a dog named Fido waiting patiently for the turkey bone that would be given to him for being a good dog, a handful of first cousins and some aunts and uncles, and both sets of grandparents. The time when little kids sat at the little kids table,  shut their pieholes and waited for the day they hit 13 and were considered old enough to rock with the adults. You know..the good old days. The days Nana & Pap were actually about 70 years old and had to have their food puree because Polident hadn’t been invented yet. Mom wasn’t yet on her “nervous pills” that she chased down with a dirty martini because that was the only way she could function enough to plaster a smile on her face and put together a fabulous meal for about 15 people who could actually fit around the table and give thanks for Native American genocide and gifted syphilis-free, cozy blankets. Or the old standard Christmas image, Suzy and Bobby in their jammies, snuggled in bed, sugar-plum fairies in their heads, Santa’s got his milk and cookies waiting for him, presents wrapped and under the tree and all is right with the world. Rudolph is on his way.

Not today though…

(It’s so bad that even the North Pole gang now has to seek therapy)

Nope, now the spirit of  the holidays now include but are not limited to: The need to carry pepper spray into Walmart, the possible taking of one extra dose of Xanax or whatever nifty anxiety/anti-depressant/cold & mucus suppressant they may have available. Don’t forget the Ritalin because now a 3-year-old has to be diagnosed with ADHD, instead of just being a fucking naturally hyper 3 year-old. Or, my personal tried and true family/holiday dysfunction cure-all: alcohol. (I love my family, but if there are more than 10 of us in the room, please direct me to the bar or stash that you may have for keeping up appearances that you are not a lush.)

Oh, I’m not simply just trying to use dysfunctional family as an excuse to imbibe wines and spirits. But dammit, they are helpful (unless you are an alcoholic, to which I say..stay away). From Thanksgiving until New Year’s, I’m drinking.  Not because it helps to ease tension, it’s because it makes the dysfunction that much funnier (especially for my sick sense of humor). And I sure do love when we get together to have a good, old-fashioned maladjusted, good time. Because at the end of the day….isn’t that what it’s all about?

Yes, the holidays can be and are indeed rough. I sit in utter amazement when I hear about “normal” holiday events. Who knew they still existed? (Do they really or are people just lying?…tell me the truth) What’s that you say? Your cousin didn’t  forget to remove the bag containing the insides of the turkey? Your dad didn’t get in a funk because people weren’t receptive to his genius idea that basting the turkey with a power washer would get double the moistness in half the time? Your mom didn’t sigh in disappointment when you walked into the house boyfriend-less yet another year, and then proceeds to tell you how your 55th cousin twice removed, divided by 9 (who’s a stripper) found a nice, young man who is very accepting of her career choice of picking up money with her woman parts?

I do love the holidays, not for the mass consumerism consumption, nor for the annoying tinsel that seems to get stuck to everything. And it’s definitely not for the fact that I will probably now need to wrap myself in bulletproof vest under my Northface and possibly a gas mask. (Although I did enter and win a tug-of-war with a feisty old lady for the last Bratz doll one year…take THAT Centrum Silver)  And I definitely don’t feel like standing around looking for a damn tree while my nips are hardened enough to cut concrete. I love the holidays for the element of surprise, never a dull moment opportunities and situations that are almost always guaranteed to arise with my relatives. You don’t get my kind of dysfunction by having anything “normal”.

You know what I say to anyone who claims to have a normal holiday time filled with love and smiles and all of that ABC “365 days of Christmas” bubblegum bullshit?… Stop denying yourself the opportunity (or just stop denying that your family time is almost always fucked up) to get inebriated in a way acceptable to society (in other words, if you DO get shit-faced, please make sure you pack your jammies and make plans to crash overnight) and laugh at your family….you don’t know what you’re missing.


Sitting here at my day job bored as hell. Work has been completed, orders are done and it’s a slow one since it’s rainy and nasty. So, being that I have nothing do nor the motivation to find something to do, I log onto Facebook and peruse the vault of sharing of life information and pictures and videos. Lo and behold, I’m greeted by the unreal, the bs, the depressing..the fuckery. Depending on how many friends, fri-enemies, acquaintances, and family members one may have, Facebook tends to run the gamut once that darned news feed is opened. You tend to have the few who actually just use Facebook exactly what it was initially supposed to be: a place to post some pictures, reconnect with people that you actually liked in high school and college and keep up with distant family members.

But then…….you have THOSE motherfuckers.

You know who I’m talking about. THOSE people, the ones who make you wish sometimes that you could break their fingers through the computer or your smartphone with a mallet just so they won’t post the fuckery again.  The ones that you want to unfriend because of their stupidity and sometimes do. The one’s who just get on your gat damn nerves. Just in case you don’t I’m going to spell them out, see if there’s any one you might recognize.

1.The Wannabe Gangsta:

This type of Facebooker is definitely one of my top five to laugh at. I’m not saying that it is inconceivable for a person to develop some sort of  toughness over the years; people change, this is a fact. I am referring to the people that jump at their own shadow. This type of person is one you see more than three times a week, you might even be related to them. Suddenly, you sign on, and it’s like they were visited by their Gangsta Fairly Oddparent or something. If you’re like me, you may just give it a cursory glance and then snort in derision. If you are like my other personality, you want to shout them out about the time that guy took their chocolate chip cookies and they didn’t do jack shit but cry. What the hell is it about a keyboard and monitor that turns people into fucking Scarface?  Muthafucka, I cannot respect your gangsta when you play “Farmville”.

2.The One Who “Always Keeps It Real”

I love these assholes too, because they are usually full of shit and don’t realize it.  I mean; they are almost as bad as the religious hypocrites. This person will almost always end or begin a status with the words “Real Talk” “Just Keeping It Real”, “#teamkeepinitreal” or some other contrived bullshit. They tend to get about five or six likes from people who don’t know them that well and therefore actually believe the person they are representing is really them. Deep down, they are flakier than a Pillsbury biscuit and crumble just as fast at any sign on them backing up the words they type.

2.The “Letting You Know I’m Here” Significant Other

I dated someone like this (note: I said dated), and I know certain people are now involved with someone like this. This type of Facebooker tends to comment on everything their significant other posts and I do mean just about everything, especially when a member of the opposite sex makes a comment . For example, let’s say you see someone post some generic shit that says “Had some cheese today, it was good.” you would in turn post a comment that reads like “No shit, I had some cheese too, hooray for dairy.” Simple. Pretty innocuous. Enters the significant “LOL! Yes baby we sure did have some cheese on our burgers.  Yes WE did. I totally LOVE it when WE are eating cheese together, I’m sooooo glad we’re not lactose intolerant.” Yes, I may be embellishing, but you get the point. This person is marking their territory to let everyone know that said status maker is taken, not realizing that 1. No one gives a fuck in that sense. 2. To many people you look like a dumbass. I’m pretty sure most people are respectful of the fact that a Facebook buddy is involved. It ain’t that serious, shut the fuck up.  (let me reiterate; this applies to male or female).

3.The “Model”/The “Rapper”

I’m not going to waste too many words on this. Let me just be perfectly clear. Just because some pictures were taken in the basement of an amateur photographer’s dank hidey hole does that automatically make you a model. Put the word “aspiring” in front of the word, stop faking the funk. And just because you can make some words rhyme to a rhythm does that make you a hip hop artist, independently or otherwise. I’m not a hater and I’m not one to kill anyone’s dreams, nor am I  one to tell anyone to give up on theirs. But, if music is indeed your life, sometimes you have to re-evaluate and explore other ways to be involved, because 7 times of 10 your lyrics suck, I really don’t care if your mama or big cousin told you different  (it’s the holiday season, I’m feeling gracious.)

4. Duckfacers

I know hate is a strong word, but I hate, hate, hate HATE this fucking look. Seriously what is this supposed to convey? Sexiness? Plump, supple lips? Chicks who do this look like they got their lips caught in a steel trap door. It looks like a fucking discarded cartoon character draft. This. Shit. Must. Cease.

5. The “All Men/Women Ain’t Shit” Daily Ranter:

This Facebooker, always, always, ALWAYS has something negative to say about the opposite sex. Believe me, I’ve gone through crummy break-ups and have had my share of  dating horror stories (that’s another blog if I ever feel like revisiting what I’ve done my best to suppress). I had a few brief moments of the “men ain’t shit.” but, I got over it. Because while I am of the belief that most human beings ain’t shit, I know there are still a few good ones around. True, sometimes it seems easier to find fucking Waldo than to find one, but damn, maybe it’s time to take a step back and check what fucked-up pheromones you are giving off that is attracting these types of people. And I’m not just saying it to say it, I had to do the same thing too, because I always seem to attract the “appears normal until you really get to know them” type (shoulda known he when he told me he did a background check on his ex-wife’s new husband.)

6. The Baby Mama/Deadbeat Dad Whiner:

I know co-parenting can be a pain in the ass, been there, done that and got the t-shirt and the shot glass. In my early years of being a mom, I got into the verbal battles with my son’s father ( I ABHOR the term “baby daddy”) a lot about everything. At least ten times a day I see this type of Facebooker going off, always getting on the soapbox and call themselves clowning someone and shouting them out. Especially when they get someone new, then they REALLY want to break bad by constantly rubbing in the other parent’s face what the new man (or woman) is doing for the kids. That shit ain’t cool, because kids see that. They see a lot already and can make up their own minds.  I just don’t get how you can have more than one child with a person and THEN get on that kick about how they ain’t shit. And I don’t want to hear  “well, they weren’t like that before.”  or ” I thought once the baby came he would change.” blah blah blooey bullshit. A person ALWAYS shows their true colors, it’s just that we tend get blinded by love and some women are under the impression that pussy and baby will change a dude. (The only thing pussy has done is start wars, bad Reality TV episodes, and lyrical beef between Nas, Jay-Z and Tupac & Biggie).  If “baby daddy” ain’t shit you allowed him to be, because you still cocked your legs back and did bedroom hand stands without protection, and gave birth to more than one child for him. Men, if baby mama ain’t shit, you fucked up by not treating your sperm cells with tender loving care and not strapping up and making sure she was on some birth control pills. Don’t get me twisted, I know there are dead beat moms and dads out there, I know there are women out there who will use their children for leverage or to hold an ex hostage. But putting the shit on Facebook to get your hens cackling or your bros “hmmphing” in agreement isn’t the way, it’s a bitter pill I learned to swallow but grow up and handle that shit in private, the world doesn’t need to know that Big JuJu skipped out on a child support again.

Yeah, I could go on and on…might even include another part to this, because this is only the tip of the Facebook Fuckery iceberg. The whole purpose of the number one social website has  been lost and it’s turned into a worldwide melting pot of douchebaggery, asinine bullshit and posing. But then again I can’t complain too much, because the stupidity provided me with inspiration. Ah well, veni, vini, vici.

Until my next rant, keep it sexy..