This Is My Lazy Post.

Whatever.

Are you reading this part? Probably not. Just went straight for the image. Good call. My fingers are tired. Why is the Shift button so far from the rest of the letters? It’s just abnormal for my left pinky to reach back all that way, only to stretch my left index finger to the T. Fuck you, keyboard inventor person. It’s just confusing what’s going on by my right hand, way too many punctuation marks.

Life is hard.

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Yep.

With Great Power Comes No Responsibility.

Who are these people that create digital road signs? I’d like to meet a few of them and ask how difficult their daily lives are, because it must be so hard – so, so, SO hard – to just…not write stupid shit all the time.

If I were given this great power, I’d start with a few of these:

“DELAY AHEAD. NOW WOULD BE THE TIME TO LISTEN TO YOUR FAVORITE PLAYLIST.”

“DETOUR AHEAD. STAY IN MIDDLE LANE. JUST KIDDING, LEFT LANE. DID I SAY LEFT? TOTALLY MEANT RIGHT. RIGHT LANE.”

“LANE ENDS. MERGE LIKE A ZIPPER, ASSHOLES.”

“EXIT 28 IS CLOSED AHEAD. SO FUCK YOU.”

“STOP AT RED. POOP IS BROWN.”

Luckily, when one of these powerful people gets fired, we’re able to get an inside view into what they’d really like to say.

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Fend for yourselves, fuckers!

A true hero.

 

10 Life Lessons I Learned From Full House.

Having been born in ’85, I grew up on all ’90s television, which means I got the good stuff. We had TGIF to look forward to every Friday night, and I’d like to think that fabulous programming, in general, kept us crazy kids off the streets instead of wandering malls or smoking crack. And I hear one of those is worse than the other.

One of my favorite shows – OF ALL TIME – happens to be Full House, and I think so many of its life lessons have carried over into my adulthood. I’m here to review 10 of them, in high hopes that you share the same sentiments, or perhaps gain a greater sense of wisdom just by reading this post. I’m fairly certain both will happen to you.

Let’s begin.

1. Hugging is everything.

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2. It’s totally normal to have sexual thoughts about your uncle, as long as he’s John Stamos.

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3. San Francisco homes are really spacious.

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4. You can be the hottest guy in the world but still not be able to maintain a steady job.

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5. This show single-handedly taught me how to speak fluent French.

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6. If your hot uncle has a mole-bearing doppleganger twin type cousin, don’t trust him. Because he’s ugly hot.

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7. If you’re going to randomly sing with a group of people in your living room, stand shoulder to shoulder and tuck in your shirt. You’ll sound better that way.

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8. Once you befriend the Beach Boys, you’re all BFFs for life.

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9. Everyone should have their own tagline. 

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10. John Stamos should’ve had a singing career. I’d buy the shit out of his music.

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HE’S LOOKING RIGHT AT ME.

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Let’s Give Props To Marriage Equality.

It’s a big day today regarding the quality of America’s decision makers, so I’m just going to put this riiiiiiiiight here.

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Prop 8 banning gay marriage in California is up for hearing in our nation’s capitol, and let’s hope the folks moving their quills are full of love, compassion, and little bit of glitter.

I also hope they recently watched Lincoln and realized how parallel our times are to that of the old civil unrest. Time and time again I’ve heard the saying, “History repeats itself,” and what do you know? Here we are again, telling a certain type of people what they can and can’t do.

FUCK THAT. Mind ya business. If you have a problem with gay marriage, it’s your problem. If you think God has some kind of issue with homosexuality or the right for gays to marry, why you don’t you let him take of his own shit, huh?

In the wise words of Debbie from Knocked Up:

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Damn straight. You get all pissed about cloning sheep and “playing God” but here you are, playing God thinking you have the Big Man’s best interests in mind.

Jesus helped out whores, lepers, and some fucked up friends whom he called apostles. He still loved, and he still does. Race, sexuality…no one is judged except for the good in their heart. So c’mon, Supreme Court. Treat everyone the way you want to be treated.

Taste the rainbow.

Some Spiders Just Want To Watch The World Burn.

Nope. No. Uh-uh.

FUCK. THAT.

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In case of a fire, we’re all gonna fucking die because, let’s face it, there is no shoe big enough and no tissue thick enough to get this job done. It’s not happening, just run. GO. Save yourself, or – better yet – bust out the s’mores.

Might as well go out with some chocolatey, marshmallowy, graham cracker goodness, because Mother Nature clearly HATES US ALL.

The Infamous Facebook Side Pose.

Ladies, get a grip.

Besides the hell on earth that is the duckface trend, the other pose that seems to be taking the Facebook and red carpet world by storm is the side pose.

Let me define this for you. The side pose is when a female specimen of the human brand insists on taking pictures where her body is facing, not the camera, but someone directly beside her and cranking her head around to smile and say “I’M NOT FAT.” The act of side posing is predominantly shared with the equally infamous hand-on-hip. This side pose is strategically chosen by women who divert your attention to their ass and rack rather than feeling comfortable enough with just…ya know, smiling or whatever.

In case you’re still uncertain of this epidemic or you haven’t ever been on Facebook, you loser, here are a few examples:

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Here, Miley Cyrus shows us just how present her butt is with a slight arc of her back. She wants you to know how much skinnier she is than these other bitches.

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These two random slutables have side posed so close to each other that their boobs aren’t even relevant anymore. It’s clearly all about the asses for them. And you’re in for a real treat, fellas, it seems they’re about to conduct a cooch-bump because THEY’RE ALMOST TOUCHING.

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OMG IT’S A HERD OF THEM. The girl in the middle doesn’t even know what to do – she’s trying to turn to the side, the left knee is clearly doing all the work, but the albino chick behind her is like noooooooooooo you don’t and she’s pulling her left shoulder back so she doesn’t feel too insecure about being the only one who wore a full sized Santa hat. Because in this group and in side posing, everything must be 3 sizes too small. I’m pretty sure one girl is only wearing a black piece of construction paper – I’m talking to you, green shoes.

Now that we’re all aware of the side pose epidemic, let’s all try to face a little more frontwards toward the camera. A healthy 45 degree angle is all that’s necessary, ladies. The full 90 is not fooling anyone.

What happened to the simple art of sucking it in? Bunch of fucking cheaters these days.

Well Played, American Eagle.

Or so I pray to God, because this has to be a joke.

Recently, the PR folks at American Eagle put out a marketing ploy that gave the internet a heart attack. Everyone has come to the realization that this is some kind of April Fool’s joke, but go ahead and make that decision for yourself.

Introducing, the Skinny Skinny Jean.

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HAHAHAHA. Good one, AE. You’re fucking with us, right? Right? DEAR GOD RIGHT???

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Isn’t it sad that for a split second, we all think this could actually be a real thing? AE even has some marketing video for it where people are doing normal things while “wearing” the spray on jean.

I want to know how exactly they suggest people use the bathroom, the best practices for applying it “in there”, whether it’s safe for sensitive skin (if Neutrogena came out with a line, I’d trust it), and just what their shaving directions would be. Is it like Revlon’s ColorStay lipcolor and no amount of wiping will take that shit off? SO MANY QUESTIONS.

Considering the fact that there’s so much hideous bullshit in the fashion world (I dare you to check out my posts on meggings and these sandal boots made by Satan himself), this Skinny Skinny spray on ploy is sadly not that far off. People literally want the skinniest jean out there and it makes me cry tears of anger and bloodthirsty venom. Women used to draw seams on the back of their legs to make it look like they were wearing pantyhose – remember? Let’s move forward, world, not backwards.

So I don’t know if I should shake the hands of AE’s marketing execs for making a mockery of the whole “people will buy anything – ANYTHING – to be seen as cool” or if I should punch them all square in the fucking RIGHT EYE for the most godawful fashion idea since metallic meggings.

Anything that makes the mullet look good should be fed to a hungry, angry, horny great white shark.

My Exact Thoughts When There’s No Mirror In A Public Bathroom.

Yep, spot on.

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Goddamn right. There’s no filter on a mirror, people. That nasty piece of spinach in your teeth ain’t art, it’s fucking gross.

PS: A little piece of advice to all public restrooms, try painting BEFORE you install your mirrors. It’s pretty obvious the maintenance crew had a brief “Oh FUUUUUUCK” moment at one point.

Why I Can’t Sleep Around.

I don’t know how people do it. There are plenty of friends I know that have no problem sleeping around, but I just can’t.

So I confess, I have a really hard time sleeping anywhere but in my own bed. Some folks seem to be able to fall asleep anywhere, at anytime, and I wish that were me. Instead, when I sleepover at a friend’s house or I’m crashing on a couch, no matter if it’s a bed, a floor, or a set of strategically placed cushions, I can’t seem to get a good nights sleep.

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LIFE IS UNFAIR.

Usually I go in thinking, Alright FINE – I’m not going to sleep well tonight and that’s cool. I’ll catch up later, so fuck it. But then the time comes when everyone says, “I can’t believe what time it is!”, which means it’s well after midnight and our late-twenties asses have been up wayyyyy past our bedtimes. Suddenly, I realize how fucking exhausted I am and I’m thinking, My God it’s going to feel good to sleep! Then I remember where I am. I do a quick side-glance at the clock wondering if I could make it home at a decent hour. I’m not drunk, but I’m so tired, and that’s basically as good as drunk.

Kids, this is what happens when you start getting older. Tired becomes the new drunk.

At least it’s more comfortable sleeping at your friends’ houses when you get older, because there aren’t usually a bunch of people all trying to crash in the same place. Instead, you’ve known weeks ahead of time who’s sleeping over, and who’s sobering up for a drive home. Extra beds have been claimed, couches distributed, all is figured out. It’s really a beautiful thing. Because when you’re actually going to sleep after sobering up, the floor is fucked up place to be. You’ll take a short couch over the floor, any day.

Once the blankets and pillows have been handed out, and I’ve changed into my jammies (did I tell you I hate sleeping in day clothes? Denim is not made for the fetal position.), panic starts to set in. My internal dialogue goes as follows:

I hope I sleep tonight. I’d take 3 or 4 hours, that would be a gift.

No, stop being negative, it’s all mental. You got this.

Oh God, there goes my heart. It’s pounding. It’s fucking POUNDING.

BREATHE GODDAMNIT.

Okay, deep breath in…deep breath out. Has my heart slowed?

How crazy is the heart? It’s beating all the time. It doesn’t really feel like it’s on the left side though, does it?

My left boob is definitely getting more bounce, but only slightly.

OMG SOMEONE IS SNORING. FUUUUUUUUUUUUCK.

Ugh, I hate them. They fell asleep, no problem.

How did they DO that? And why on their back? This sucks.

Just pretend it’s a shower. Showers are the sound of unicorns galloping.

A snoring shower, that’s good. As long as the snores are in even intervals, I’ll be fine.

What the fuck is coming out of their throat? Swear to God, there’s an animal lodged in there.

Probably a lemur.

Oh…I feel my body relaxing. My body is ready, it wants to sleep.

Annnnnddddd there goes my heart pounding again.

What IS that?

Think of something other than sleep.

The beach, water, waves. Maybe a big grass field.

If I was in a big grass field or on a beach, I’d want to get a game of volleyball going.

Nope, not helping. How about just nothing. Think darkness.

These are the back of my eyelids.

Today has been a good day, I’m really lucky.

OMG MY LEG JUST TWITCHED THIS IS GREAT.

I’m almost there. It’s been a few hours, but my mind is ready to finally give.

I don’t even care about the snoring anymore. Fuck that.

I’m actually pretty comfortable anyway, so things –

It’s the best feeling in the world when you were so panicked about falling asleep and then you suddenly wake up. YES! I fell asleep! I only got a few hours, but thank GOD. It’s like finding a few dollars in your pocket. You could’ve used a 5, 10, or 20, but money is money, and you’re going to treat yourself to a pack of Junior Mints later.

In conclusion, if you’re someone blessed with the ability to sleep anywhere – fuck you. And I mean that in the most envious way possible. While you snore away the day’s events, I’ll be counting sheep and naming the sheep and arranging their marriages so they make little baby sheep.

This Church Wants You To Come More Than Once A Year.

With Easter in just a few weeks, there’s no time like the present to do some serious self-reflection.

This church thinks so, too.

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Look, I don’t ask how often you part your Red Sea, so let’s keep this friendly. Okay? I just want some wine. And you’re really making the idea of the second coming of Christ really uncomfortable for me so stop it now.

Besides, the 7th commandment states, “Thou shalt not jerk and tell” – or something like that.

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