I Want Jay and Bey to Help Me With My Bills, Bills, Bills

As I’m trying to dispel the feeling of buyers remorse after dropping $130 at Old Navy on a work break, I gazed at my Facebook feed and found a picture of Beyonce and (presumably) Jay-Z – the latter seeming to sport a shirt that reads on the back, “BILLIONAIRY.”

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It got me thinking the obvious, Wow, they have so much more money than we do. And there he is, showing exactly that, without even having to stare me in the face. What I just threw down at a goddamn Old Navy wouldn’t even register on their bank account. That’s if they have a bank account. At this point, I doubt it. I imagine money just gets injected into their veins now, literally making them of money. The cash flows hard with these ones.

I, on the other hand, pushed our banking boundaries and burned our plastic on jeans, a cardigan, and two shirts. All of which are necessary for our honeymoon coming up. We live a California life, people, and we hear Alaska calls for thicker denim. Plus, it’s our honeymoon, shouldn’t we splurge toward looking good? YES. However, I had to stick with my list and not stray, which is so hard when I haven’t been shopping at stores other than Ross, Marshalls, or TJMaxx in about a year. It went something like -

[Ground floor] Dear God, it’s all on sale and decently priced. NO. You’re such a cotton whore, you cute striped dress! I DON’T NEED YOU BUT I WANT YOU. (backs away slowly) Where the hell is the mens section? Hubby needs some bootcuts. Ah, the escalator.

[Second floor] Of course the mens section is on the goddamn 3rd floor. Time to walk through all the adorable swimsuits. Polka dots are mocking me. Look straight ahead. (GASP!) SANDALS. No. Stop. Escalator, now.

[Third floor] Where the shit am I? Ah, a wall of jeans. Done.

Repeat process backwards.

It’s fairly easy to assume Mr. and Mrs. Carter haven’t had this problem in a good 10-15 years. So I get to thinking, where does all their piles of extra money go? Blue Ivy has certainly taken her fair share, but they have BUTTLOADS of cash. Surely they could discard some of it to make some peoples’ lives (cough-look here-cough) much less stressful.

What if there was a lottery every month where they gave one lucky person $10,000? Shit, even $1,000 would be amazing. I’m sure it wouldn’t hurt them. Am I being totally insensitive here? It’s their hard earned cash, sure, but how cool would it be if celebrities just randomly gave an average Joe a lump sum of money, no strings attached? FUCKING cool. That’s how. I wouldn’t even feel bad taking it, like I usually would, because Jay’s hat and Bey’s glasses combined probably cost more than six months worth of our rent. And I’m sure they got them for free. Big, deep, stomach-wrenching sigh.

In conclusion, this is a genius idea and I’d like to be the first “random.”

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Say my name, say my name.*

*I couldn’t help it.

 

Only in Europe.

Last year for my birthday, I made a list of things I’ve learned, one for every year I’ve blessed this planet with my presence. (You’re welcome.) It would be far too ridiculous to add a 29th thing to that list, so, instead, I’m going to post an inappropriate joke about life.

Thanks to the land of Germany for this bit of honest advertising. Translated, of course. I’m American, after all. Shit ain’t funny when I can’t read it.

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Mean. Clever. Ominous. German.

Well, how else is a funeral service supposed to gain business? Do funeral places usually advertise? Do they get competitive or roam hospitals and senior homes to network? I need to stop asking questions.

Watch for their next ad posted above a cigarette wall, probably titled, “Breathe deep.”

In opposite news, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ME!!!

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Fuck off, thirty. It ain’t your time yet.

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“All men must order HBO.” Wiki that shit, it won’t come up.

Game of Thrones season four starts this Sunday.

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I cannot begin to tell you my feelings about this. Except that’s a total exaggeration (welcome to the internet) because I can, and I will. I’ll keep it simple, let’s play fill in the blank:

Game of Thrones season four premieres this Sunday and I’m feeling _______.

  • terrified
  • excited
  • anxious
  • so ready
  • pissed
  • not ready at all
  • vengeful
  • horny
  • entirely depressed, was the Red Wedding only two episodes ago?!?
  • badass
  • hopeful
  • not hopeful at all
  • hot and bothered

I’m only a few hundred pages into A Feast for Crows (that’s GoT book four, for those anti-literature fans), so I feel somewhat behind in my preparation. When the Red Wedding happened last season, I was a few chapters away from it, so I knew half of what was going on, but was blindsided by the actual wedding massacre. I’m not sure which way I would have preferred. Regardless, I feel beaten and bruised and completely pissed off, so HELLO season four! So good to see you! It’s been a goddamn year, you scarlet whore of a show.

GIVE IT TO ME NOW.

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And the Oscar Goes To…

I’ll have you know, chivalry is not dead, ladies.

Sometimes, a true gentleman will hold a door open for you, help you pick up your dropped belongings, flash you a sweet smile from across the room, or leave you an endearing note.

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This isn’t one of those times. You don’t want Oscar. You want to find somewhere else to park. Forever.

Besides, I never trust anyone who doesn’t put a period at the end of a sentence. If you call that a sentence.

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Fill in the Solutions

I hope to instill this value when I have children.

Granted, Neosporin will also be in the mix, but this is pretty much a dead ringer for Tomasik family values.5c3UV7P

Except ours will probably be spoken in a Boston accent with a 25% chance of “cocksuckah” thrown in there.

10 Things That Deserve a Vogue Cover Over Kim & Kanye

Anna Wintour, you’ve fucked up.

First of all, it is one of my Lenten deals to not drop the F-bomb, but I think the big G-man totally understands in this case.

I’m going to keep this simple, because I don’t want to give these numbnuts more publicity than they deserve, and I sure as hell won’t be posting their Vogue cover here. So if that’s what you’re looking for, GTFO.

Here are 10 far worthier subjects that should have gotten Vogue covers.

This hipster bear.

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This prestigious medal.

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The SNL Gap girls.

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This bit of family fun in the sun.

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These vibrant and lively looking notebooks.

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This dog. Period.

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Bill fuckin’ Murray.

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This rather fancy and ornate toilet paper.

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This thought provoking thumbtack.

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And the no-brainer here, the beautiful Lupita Nyong’o.

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How were Kim and Kanye put on the cover of Vogue over Lupita Nyong’o?!?! Or any of the other viable options I listed above, really.

Be smart, America. Don’t give in to this bullshit.

Anna, we’re broken up.

Hump Day Humor

Thank you, Internet. I needed this today.

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It’s a baby carrier and fluffball smiling dog knockout combo.

WAIT – is that a pink onesie?

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Still Bigger Than a Smart Car

This person had the right idea, because it really is the perfect car.

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It has enough Flintstones street cred to it while being small enough to fit in tight spaces and equipped with the ability to smash the shit out of that dick in front of you who never put on his blinker.

That motorcycle man totally wants to know the APR.

What I Learned From Watching a Whole Season of The Bachelor For the First Time.

Ay, ay, ay. What a load of crap. Spoilers ahead, folks!

Yes, this was the first season I ever watched The Bachelor. So why after 17 seasons of never watching a minute of this horribly contrived series did I suddenly decide to watch it now? I really love my friend Megan Wheeler, and that’s my only excuse.

I also hate her just a smidge now. However, as consolation to her, I hate myself more. MEGAN, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME?!

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I watched every episode, maybe not the full time frame, but I knew all that happened – or all that the show wanted to tell me. I saw how all the girls were force fed wine throughout their stay because what else are a bunch of strange women going to do to break the tension that they’re all vying for the love of the same guy? It reminded me of that time in middle school when I had a massive crush on Trey and my best friend Katie called to ask if she could be his girlfriend because he asked her. Ummmm, okay…? Except I had to suck that truth down with a Sprite at dinner. If only I had the balls – and height – to bust into my parents’ liquor stash.

Instead of a prepubescent phone call, these adult (by age) women sat around and watched as this guy piceds out each one of them for alone time, left to wonder whether that chick just made a stronger connection with him than they did. Or if they’re totally sucking face, because they want to totally suck his face. And then he definitely sucks a lot of face. But he’s a hot, single father with a bunch of handpicked size 2′s around him. What guy wouldn’t want to be crowned make out king?

But this is a fairly conservative operation ABC has molded for 18 seasons now, so it seems like the audience was horrified watching a single father, who’s intention was to find “the one,” make out with most of the contestants without so much of a “Hey, mi potential amor, que es your thoughts on religion y family?” Everyone is suddenly feeling sorry for all the girls on the show, as if this douchebag wronged them.

First off, this is a contrived show that has led to more break ups and divorces than it has happy marriages. This is the type of television institution that the LGBT community points to when people fly off the handle thinking gays would taint the sanctity of marriage. HAHAHAHAHAHA – no. When a paid program on primetime television spends millions of dollars carting around hot guys and girls to exotic locations around the world, loads them up with champagne and wine, and then gives them a timeline for how and when they need to fall in love, the sanctity of marriage is pretty much punched in the face and left to fend for itself on the side of the road.

So when this season’s bachelor Juan Pablo Galavis decided not to propose last night but carry on a relationship with the “winning” contestant, Nikki, I didn’t understand why this was such a hard concept for Chris Harrison, Sean and Catherine, and the entire booing studio audience to comprehend. And I really hate them for making me feel the slightest bit defensive over a piece of shit like Juan Pablo.

What exactly did I take away from my first viewing of a Bachelor season? Here are six things that lowered my IQ while watching the show.

1. Chris Harrison is a dick.

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Apparently this guy is an audience favorite, but, as a first time watcher, he’s total crap. Seriously, Chris? This is your career? This, THIS is what you decided you wanted to do for 12 years of your life. Make people talk themselves into or out of love, a love that has grown and changed and experienced intense tribulations in front of cameras over the course of eight weeks. Eight weeks. Thank God for all those international trips, or this would’ve been really hard for you. As I watched him last night grilling Juan Pablo, Nikki, Clare, and the other head-scratchers in the studio, I really wanted to kick him in the balls. Like, really goddamn hard. He fished and dug and tried – he put on his best Barbara Walters, except these aren’t A-list celebrities or prominent figureheads. These are people earning paychecks and trashy magazine covers. Juan Pablo doesn’t want to say he’s in love, who gives a shit? You have an audience full of Clares, so I’m sure this is heartbreaking for you. The Bachelor system shut down, it’s broken. A perfect love wasn’t found in under two months. Why are you so frustrated? Go home and masturbate.

2. The producers will make you hate someone.

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This is a normal tactic in any reality show. The Real World used to do it (and still might, I think it’s still going on?), Jersey Shore did it, and The Bachelor does it. Typical ratings gimmick: in every story line, you want good versus evil. I assume the girls are usually pitted against each other, and they tried to do that when Nikki mysteriously got really bitchy for about three episodes. Clare was always off her rocker, so it was easy to pin her against the newly anointed bad girl Nikki. But it wasn’t believable, it wasn’t enough. The guys in the producers room must’ve figured, “Hey, this Juan Pablo guy seemed to say something crappy against the gay community, and people didn’t like that. Plus, his English sucks, so let’s twist this shit and make everyone hate him. A Bachelor first!” And then a villain was born. It wasn’t too hard, either. Juan Pablo’s attempts at diffusing any conflicts was brushing a girl’s hair behind her ear and whispering, “Eeesokay, I respect you and your honesty.” Except she just honestly called you a jerk, sooo…vamonos, por favor.

3. People love the craziest and sluttiest contestant.

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I can’t speak about the other seasons because I simply don’t know anything outside of this one, but it makes good television to keep the craziest person around for as long as possible. Clare was really crazy. She was also very obvious in her sexual nature toward Juan Pablo. One episode this season, Clare snuck out and lured Juan Pablo out to the waters of beautiful Thailand for some sex. They had it, let’s be honest. It was played off like a sexy dip in the ocean, but no. Juan Pablo apparently regretted his 4:00AM rendezvous with the girl he could never say no to, and decided to make her feel bad about what she did. The internet went crazy about slut-shaming. Personally, I think this is a mixed bag. First, Juan Pablo could’ve said, “No, caliente, go back to your room. I can’t do dis.” But instead, he followed his boner into the ocean with Clare. Listen, Juanie, the only person you need to be shaming is yourself. On the other hand, Clare took a wild chance with Juan Pablo even with a bunch of women still left in the running. Did she use sex to further her advancement as Mrs. Juan Pablo Galavis? It’s completely possible. Oddly enough, it might’ve been what got her to the finale, and what made her cling to the guy like a goddamn leach. Regardless, Clare talked more than any other contestant, cried more than any woman, and wanted the fairy tale so bad that she seemed desperate in the end. If Juan Pablo had picked her, she would’ve been elated. He didn’t, so, of course, she totally flipped. Clare, honey, there’s a reason you weren’t picked as the next Bachelorette.

4. “Love” is viewed as “winning.”

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That’s it, isn’t it? These girls willingly participated in a competition to win an engagement ring and some good press. I wonder how many clips are on the cutting room floor of contestants using the word “win” rather than “rose”? From the position of the Bachelor, it’s safe to say they’re 50% there to find a relationship. The other 50% might be in the contract. Last night, Chris Harrison annoyingly kept asking, “Was Juan Pablo really looking for love?” Puh-lease. With a failing relationship rate for the show, I’d assume each contestant understands the odds are against them, but HEY! Free trips! Free booze! Women for daaaaayyyys! I imagine Juan Pablo was at least a little sincere about finding a good woman when entering this season, but then the cameras freaked him out and make him draw blanks on the English language and human courtesy. Perhaps it would make more sense if Chris Harrison asked, “Was Juan Pablo really looking for fame?” Nope. Not at all.

5. People are super desperate to get married.

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Even dating sites allow you to take all the time you want to meet and get to know a person. How desperate does someone have to be to drop their lives to go on a bunch of group dates with a guy you’re forcing yourself to fall in love with? As Andi Dorfman’s dad so eloquently put it, “I can’t give you my blessing to propose when you’re dating two other women.” Clare struck me as the most extreme in this case. She wanted it…bad. To the point where she ignored every red flag throw in her path. But I think she would’ve been crazy enough to balance out Juan Pablo’s sleeze. Honestly, I thought they’d live happily ever after for about six months and then part ways. Regardless, after watching 20+ women vie for the affections of one guy, I’m dying to know how a bunch of guys handle the same situation. Do they cry and purse their lips as much as Clare? Do they talk themselves out of the whole scenario like Sharleen? Do they waste their time confessing their budding feelings in front of a camera for all to see? I’m laughing just thinking about it. This is the ultimate gender experiment.

6. The Bachelor/Bachelorette alumni seems like a carefully watched cult.

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The show brought in their most shining symbols of love last night while Chris Harrison hosted the finale and “After the Rose” special. Juan Pablo didn’t propose and didn’t confess to being in love. Insert crickets here. On a finale where there wasn’t a standard happy ending, the producers decided to bring in their new lovebirds Sean and Catherine to shed light on this sad and anticlimactic season end. As a first time watcher, this felt very well planned as a way to continue vilifying Juan Pablo and his chosen lady-friend Nikki. What I would’ve loved to have seen was all the past Bachelors/Bachelorettes who also didn’t propose during their finales, or all the ones who’s relationships failed. What would they have said to Juan Pablo? What would they have said to Chris Harrison? Would they have kicked him hard in the balls? Dammit. I wish. I think that’s what was pissing me off most last night: watching a studio audience full of Clares hiss and boo these two people who didn’t get engaged, aren’t planning a wedding, and just trying to figure things out after being flown around the world and breastfeed for the past few months. Yes, Sean made a good point that by signing up for this show, you’re subjecting yourself to public scrutiny and praise. But what about the people who realize they got in too deep? I think that’s where Juan Pablo is, he’s not cut out for this shit. But Sean and Catherine, I hope they’re really happy, because ABC owns their asses.

In conclusion, my first season watching The Bachelor and the whole system flopped at the end. I’d like to believe I was a part in that.

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Friends, Lent Me Your Ears

Ah, religion. What a tricky thing it is, right? For some people, it’s out of sight and out of mind, but for others, they dedicate their lives to it. A part of Christian tradition that even non-believers tend to enjoy is Lent. Let’s explore.

Today marks Ash Wednesday, the start of 40 days of self-punishment, some might say. I don’t see it as self-afflicting, because it’s supposed to be an encouraging time for improving and getting rid of your “self.” Getting rid of something you’re too reliant on, adding something daily you wouldn’t normally make time for, or doing anything good for others. In my family, I was raised to create a new, healthy habit in life, and hope it sticks. Now is the time to encourage goodness in your life, if – at least – just for 40 days.

This year, I’m listening to my husband and cutting out all phone use while at home. Working at a tech company has given me a less than attractive habit of always looking things up and being stimulated by what’s new every 10 seconds. I’m going to let it go like Idina Menzel and be totally present in the company of my man. Isn’t it rather sad I’m even having to commit to that? I don’t even think I’m that bad, but my hubby believes differently, and – hey – there’s only one way to find out. Remove the tech teat.

My other Lent goal is to quit dropping the F-bomb so casually all the damn time. I’m getting too used it, which completely demeans the strength and goodness of an amazing F-bomb. Besides, as a writer, I should be more creative. Or British, because those guys have far better verbiage for these sorts of things.

In honor of the Lenten season, and for those who haven’t figured out what they could drop or add to their daily lives, here are five ideas for this modern age:

1. Give up using the word “literally.” Please. Buzzfeed, lead the pack on this one.

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2. Use the full spelling of your words. No abbreviations. Here’s looking at you, Meg. ;-)

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3. Read more, text less.

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4. Handwrite letters to family and friends.

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5. During your work commute, put away your phone, tablet, or book, turn off your music, radio, or movie/TV show and just be with your thoughts.

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