(Not Really. But it got your attention, right? Forgive me? Love you, you’re my favorite.)
A few years ago, I quit watching the news. Mostly because it’s so fucking depressing, I just couldn’t handle it anymore. They never talk about happy or nice stuff, and I figured I have enough sad stuff in my life, there’s no need to add to it. So, when a natural disaster is headed my way, I’m the last to know. It’s a chance I take. They say ignorance is bliss. And, I believe, they (whoever the hell THEY are) are right.
However, this last week my boss happened to be on vacay, and since I’m new and stuff, I don’t have vacay. So I may or may not have looked at cnn.com and Facebook (on my phone) during the day and saw that the whole world is decrying the fact that we’re all going to die from The Ebola.
This, my friends, is not a time to rely on fact. Let’s throw that to the wind! We’re all dying! From The Ebola. I’ve largely tried to ignore the hysteria on Facebook. Mostly because I do not have the energy to go about my daily life and, in addition, dispel the myths and calm the fears of my eleventy hundred friends. I’m trying to get my other friend Fleetwood Mac tix, and of all the people I know, she really deserves a good concert. Matter of fact, we all deserve a really good concert if we’re all going to DIE from The Ebola. But I guess that’s probably beside the point.
Anyhoo, unless Chris Brown is correct (and when has that EVER happened), there’s a huge conspiracy to wipe out half the population of the world. My personal opinion is that we all need to CALM the FUCK down. At this point in time, Taylor Swift has written more break-up songs than people in the U.S. have died from The Ebola.
Just yesterday my local news, in Podunk Ohio, reported that a person was being tested for The Ebola. Because she met someone from Texas who appeared to be sick. And now she felt sick. After the big report, it then came out that she tested negative for The Ebola. Shocking, I know. Because the media is about 90% of the problem right now. And now everyone in Podunk who feels the slightest bit under the weather probably has The Ebola. Because someone who visited Ohio, albeit three hours from here, had The Ebola. So now we’re all going to die.
Sweet Cheezus on a toasted Ritz Cracker. Right now, I don’t give a fuck about The Ebola. Call me nuts, but I just got a letter telling me my kids’ school was infested with bed bugs, fleas, and lice. I’m too busy burning my mattresses and spraying my kids with pesticide to worry about coming in contact with the BLOOD, URINE, FECES, or VOMIT of the two people who were confirmed to have The Ebola in the United States. Call me short sided, if you will. You won’t be the first.
In the meantime, I’m going back to relying on People Magazine and TMZ for my main sources of news. As much as I hate to admit it, I miss the days of updates on what Kim K’s ass is up to nowadays. Unless of course, she’s got a bad case of Ass Ebola. Then we’re all fucked.
A few days ago, I saw another ad for a fish fry. And it got me thinking. Is the fish fry as popular everywhere else as it is here? How exactly did the whole fish fry craze begin? Was some guy just sitting around one day, wondering how to make some extra cash for his social club? And then he said, “well by gosh, let’s buy hundreds of pounds of fish and fry them up!”
Personally, I don’t see the allure of the fish fry. Or any food made in mass quantities, but that’s just me. It seems to me, the more of something you make; the less it tastes good. However, I’ve noticed that does not prevent people from coming in droves to the fish fry. Around here, mention the words fish fry, and you’ll see a line so long, you’d think they were handing out free money.
But they aren’t. They are serving up fish fried in mass quantities, soggy bread, baked beans from a can (without the needed doctoring of ketchup, mustard, Worchester sauce, and my secret spice mix), and store bought potato salad. Don’t get me wrong, I like fish – I was raised Catholic and ate it every Friday, whether I liked it or not. And maybe my aversion comes from the fact of that one time I overdid it at the all-you-can-eat Catfish buffet at The Catfish House in Clarksville, Tennessee, and puked my guts out for days. Or maybe it’s just the smell of fish and grease that does me in. It’s really not a pleasant smell. In any event, people seem to love the fish fry. It’s the go-to choice for groups doing fundraising. In my neck of the woods, you could be raising money to fund sweatshops in Ethiopia, and people would be lined up a mile long to buy fish.
I’m truly not trying to hurt anybody’s feels here either. I guess when you’re fundraising; you gotta go with what people dig. I get that. Apparently Southern Ohioans like the fish. Personally, I’d dig a delicious ice cream sundae, or even a hot dog with some sauce and cheese. It’s virtually impossible to fuck up a hot dog. Amirite?
I’d totally wait in line for a hot dog with some sauce and cheese with a side of ice cream sundae. Wouldn’t you? I mean I kinda do it on a regular basis at DQ, and they even give me some fries and a drink for five bucks…
As I was perusing the Interwebs today, I ran across this little gem of a news story. I’m thinking I’ll now have to go back and revise my funeral blog to include that I do NOT want this occurring after my untimely demise.
Get this folks, there is now a funeral home with a drive-thru window. So in those times when you’re in a hurry and you have a pesky funeral to attend, you can simply pull up, a la McDonald’s style, and pay your last respects without ever leaving the comfort of your own car! You may want to hit the Mickey D’s drive-thru first and grab a McLatté, just in case there’s a line. Drive-thru funeral attendees get THREE whole minutes to stare at the dead corpse and pay their last respects. I’m not clear on if a family member has to stand by the casket in the drive-thru window or not, but you’d think that would only be appropriate. And apparently there has to be someone standing there letting you know it’s time to drive away. WTF?!
Now of course, the asshole genius who invented the drive-thru funeral window is defending his practice by saying it’s mainly for people in wheelchairs who can’t get out of a car to attend a funeral. Apparently, he’s not aware that we have all kinds of neat inventions that allow wheelchair-bound people, or the otherwise physically impaired, to get around and such. He also wants us to know that the viewing window is bulletproof. You know, just in case some wayward soul, such as a bitter ex-wife, should try to shoot the dead body. Just to make sure that son-of-a-bitch is dead and whatnot. There’s also a guest book you can sign and a little drop box for sympathy cards. How sweet.
What in the frick is this world coming to? Is nothing sacred anymore? Listen, if you can’t get out of your fucking car to come to my funeral, then please, by all means, stay at home. My feelings won’t be hurt, mostly because I’ll be dead. And I’m not having an open casket, so there won’t be much to gawk at. Save yourself all the trouble and just spend the 49 cents to send a sympathy card. I mean the whole point of the matter of attending a funeral is to let the family members know you care and you’re sorry for their loss. Pulling up in a drive-thru window to look at a dead body when none of the family members are around is just the epitome of laziness, selfishness, and disrespect. And if you are truly unable to attend because of disability or sickness, I don’t think anyone is going to fault you for not being able to attend.
Maybe it’s just me, but I’m not sure I want to be a part of a society that devalues someone’s life to the point that when they’re gone, it’s acceptable to pull into a drive-thru to say good-bye. Call me old-fashioned, but it just seems so callous and cold.
My head about exploded today when I saw an article* from Salon.com reporting that Webster, Macmillan Dictionary, Cambridge Dictionary, and Google have all decided to cave to morons all over Earth and add to the definition of “literally” to include that it also can mean “figuratively.”
NO NO NO!!! And NO!!! You just can’t arbitrarily decide that because people don’t know how to use a word properly, that we should just amend the definition to include the misuse of the word. This is literary blasphemy. Literally.
I’m pretty sure this is just the thing Michael Stipe was talking about when he sang of the end of the world. And I’m not fine with it. At all. What are these knuckleheads thinking? Or maybe the better question is, ARE they thinking? I mean the Webster’s didn’t even add “ain’t” into their publication until 1993, and people have been using that since the beginning of time. I wasn’t really happy about that either, but at least that is its own stand-alone word and not a modification of a definition of a word.
Sure, it’s been somewhat of a thing lately for the reference books to be more accepting of slang terms, but I don’t really consider altering the definition of the word literally to include a misuse of the word as a slang term. Maybe I’m wrong. It’s been known to happen, albeit rarely.
After a bit of research, it seems as though Webster’s Third is where things all started going downhill. Not only did they add “ain’t” into the mix, they also pretty much made it so you could use “infer” and “imply” interchangeably. You know, because people just weren’t using them right. I guess it’s the whole “if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em” mentality. Even the American Bar Association called them out on that, stating Webster’s was “devaluing the verbal currency of the English language.”
Listen up kids. When you say something like “I’m dying laughing!” don’t add literally to the end of it. That statement is a hyperbole. A hyperbole is “an exaggerated statement or claim not to be taken literally.” See what happened there? There’s no need to add “literally” to your statement because there is already a concept in the English language that lets us know you are not really dying – it’s understood that you are exaggerating for effect! We get that! Embrace the hyperbole and quit saying literally unless something REALLY happened the way you say it happened.
I remember flipping through the pages of Webster’s Unabridged when I was a kid. That thing was bigger than I was. There are so many words we have; yet we use so little of them. There is no need to take a perfectly good word and add a definition to it because people are too lazy to figure out the right word to use. And frankly, that’s what it all boils down to – we are too lazy to find the proper word to use. It makes my heart weep.
By the way, my heart is not literally weeping, because hearts can’t weep. That, my friends, is a metaphor.
*In case you want to read about the stupidity:
So as I was perusing The Yahoo recently, I ran across an article purporting some unexpected and awesome hacks for vodka. Being the connoisseur that I am, natch I had to watch the little video. I was expecting to see seven new cocktail recipes or something to that effect. Boy, was I disappointed.
First, I just detest the use of the word “hack” in place of “hint”. Maybe it’s because I grew up in the era when Heloise’s Helpful Hints was all the rage. To me “hack” suggests you’re doing something you shouldn’t be doing, you know, like hacking into someone’s bank account and embezzling funds or breaking into a Facebook account to snoop around. I dunno, maybe it’s just me.
Anyhoo, back to my disappointment over the obvious misuse of vodka around the house, the first of which was to clean dirty eyeglasses. Unless you’re drinking the cheap, watered down vodka they sell at The Krogers, I think it would be way cheaper to just use some regular old rubbing alcohol. Or spit. It’s free. You can also rinse your razor blade to keep it from rusting. You know, all two of you who don’t use disposable razors anymore. Vodka can also be used to make an ice pack flexible. However, if you get hurt, actually drinking the vodka might be a better use of your resources. Just sayin’.
Vodka just isn’t good for cleaning purposes, either folks. Apparently it can also be used a facial toner or added to shampoo to make your hair shiny. Again, I think unless you have vodka that’s not fit to drink, then by all means, rub it on your face and hair. For me, it would be more cost efficient to actually buy toner and shiny hair stuff because I don’t drink cheap vodka. The article also suggested vodka is great at eliminating foot odor. You know what else is great for that? Bathing.
Lastly, you can extend the life of cut flowers by adding vodka to the water in the vase. The flowers will be buzzed and you will not. Personally, I’d rather have a fine bottle of vodka than a bunch of flowers, but to each her own.
If Yahoo had asked me to write that article, I would have said the best seven uses for vodka are as follows:
3. Chocolate Martini
4. Dirty Martini
5. Lemon Drop
6. Vodka and Cranberry
7. Vodka and 7 Up, with or without a splash of cranberry
After using vodka my preferred seven ways, you wouldn’t care if your eyeglasses were dirty, your hair and skin were dull, and your feet were stinky. But wash your damn feet anyway.
Sometimes I wonder if people give any thought to the words that come out of their mouths. Especially when they are people who happen to be in the public eye and make gazillions of dollars. Surely such people can afford PR reps to help them craft a string of words to convey their messages to the public while preventing unfortunate mishaps with the spoken word.
Perhaps, Gwyneth Paltrow doesn’t have a PR rep. If she does, indeed, have a PR rep, I would suggest she consciously uncouple fire the incompetent ass that lets her walk around spewing the pretentious, arrogant, narcissistic bullshit that comes from her mouth.
First we had to listen while she bemoaned how hard her life is and that she thought it would be much easier if she were just a regular ol’ working mom so she could do all her stuff in the mornings. Yeah, Gwynnie, the mornings are super easy on us working mothers. We can get all our stuff done while we are getting children ready for school and ourselves ready for jobs where we have to punch time clocks and risk losing those jobs if we’re late or God forbid we have to call in because of sick children. Now she’s bitching about how reading negative comments about herself on the World Wide Web is akin to going to war. It’s “bloody and dehumanizing,” she says.
I don’t know about you, but my heart is just pouring with sympathy for poor little Gwyneth. I can’t imagine the horrors her life must present her. I sure hope she never has to step foot in the real world because I am fairly certain she wouldn’t endure for more than 55 seconds. Wait, I just perused her Goop website, so let me amend that to 35 seconds. Because in the real world our recipes don’t include sea urchins and our closets aren’t filled with artisan crafted Guatemalan huaraches or $245 sweatshirts. I don’t even think I paid $245 for ALL the sweatshirts I’ve ever bought. Since I was 10.
Being called out for being the pretentious, arrogant ass you are is not bloody and dehumanizing. Losing your life because you are the wrong ethnicity is bloody and dehumanizing. A young girl undergoing female genital mutilation is bloody and dehumanizing. Getting your legs blown off by a roadside bomb is bloody and dehumanizing. Being physically assaulted because you are a woman, gay, black…is bloody and dehumanizing.
So, in other words, shut the fuck up, Gwyneth Paltrow.
Recently, I walked into the bathroom and saw this. My first thought was who cares if the roll is going over or under? At this point I just want it to be on the toilet paper holder. OK. I lie, I want the roll to go over. But how lazy do you have to be to not even put it on the holder?
I guess I should be thankful the holder wasn’t empty. I’d be far angrier sitting there with an empty toilet paper holder. Maybe this is a symbol that says, “Hey I was thinking about you. Not enough to actually take the time to change the roll so as not to inconvenience you, but at least you have something to wipe with.”
I know you’re busy and you have things to do. That’s probably why you couldn’t spare an extra 30 seconds to actually put the toilet paper on the toilet paper holder. It’s really not that hard. And if you want to really make your mom happy, all you have to do is put the toilet paper on the toilet paper holder. It’s not rocket science and really, it’s quite ridiculous how little one must do to make a woman happy. Or at least this woman. I guess I can’t speak for the other eleventy million of us out there.
A few days later, I found this. The roll was lying on the holder, so it functioned somewhat like it was on the holder. Granted it was rudimentary, but it felt like progress. I studied Darwin; I know evolution takes time. It made me somewhat happy.
About a week later, I find the roll finally on the holder! And in the over position to boot! Hallelujah! I think I may have even heard angels singing on high when I walked into the bathroom. I want to thank my kids for paying attention to my Facebook posts and adjusting their behaviors accordingly. I can only imagine this is what it feels like to win an Oscar.