Sunday, December 23, 2012

The Airing of Grievances: Special Edition Festivus Post

Quote of the Day:
"Many Christmases ago, I went to buy a doll for my son. I reached for the last one they had, but so did another man. As I rained blows upon him, I realized there had to be another way." - Frank Costanza, Seinfeld 

I recently attended my first Festivus party.  I witnessed feats of strength (arm-wrestling), free, endless meatballs, a Festivus Miracle (drunken diva tag), and my personal favorite: The Airing of Grievances.  The host had a large sheet of paper on which guests were invited to write their grievances.  That inspired me to air all my grievances this holiday season:

People who took the Mayan apocalypse way too seriously

People who don't use their turn signals

Do you have any idea how many people shop at Walmart?  Then why the hell don't you put more people at the the cash registers?!?

People who still make a big stink about racism.  I don't look down on you because of your skin color or ethnicity; I look down on you because you neglect adult responsibilities, abuse welfare, and you're an obnoxious asshole.

That person at work.... If you don't know who you are, you should, because you're a pompous ass.

That other person at work.  You should definitely know who you are because you're creepy, inappropriate, and I try to hide whenever I see you coming.

People who post multitudes of downward angled "selfies" pictures online with the same duck-lips-stick-your-ass-out-pose

Cryptic passive-aggressive Facebook status updates 

The Sound Of Music is NOT a Christmas movie!

Conformist Reindeer:
Ya know all of the other reindeer in the song "Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer?"  They ostracized and bullied and mocked and excluded poor little Rudolph.  They thought he was nothing but a freak with hyperemia of the nasal mucosa.  But one day, Santa (who never had Rudolph's back during all that bullying from his staff) beg him to save Christmas, having decided that Rudolph's mutation serves a purpose and deems him functional.  Then all those other reindeer who treated ol' Rudy like caribou feces make an immediate 180º and wanna be his friend now?  They all have this massive change of heart, but only after their boss says so.  I don't buy it.  I think these reindeer are a bunch of brown-nosing ass-kissers.  They may be shouting "Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer, you'll go down in history!" with glee, but then they'll be talking shit about him behind his back (and Rudolph's always in the front of the sleigh team).  How's that for fuckin' Christmas Spirit?

Taylor Swift:
Your hair isn't naturally (perfectly) wavy, enough with the squinty broody grin, your songs are stupid, you wear WAY too much eye makeup, and you "fall in love" 18 times a week.  Go make another perfume and leave me alone.

...and finally:
Andy Reid

Well, that'll do it for us this Festivus.  Hope you enjoyed it!  So all you readers out there (a.k.a. Mom and that one dude from Alaska who probably stumbled onto this page by mistake), feel free to air your grievances too this Festivus season. I promise it'll make you feel better! Happy Festivus to all and to all a good night!!!

Monday, December 10, 2012

Where's The Club Hades Bouncer?

Quote of the Day:
"You have the voice of an angel.  Your voice is like a combination of Fergie and Jesus!" - Dale, Step Brothers

I definitely believe that we are all karma's bitch.  The universe has a funny way of (eventually) coming back around to bite you in the sorry derrière for the bad juju you let loose into it.  However, I don't know how much belief I invest in the concept of the afterlife.  According to several organized (and unorganized) religions, our souls are bound to spend eternity in either infinite punishment or infinite paradise (especially since there's apparently no more purgatory anymore.  That narrows the field even further).  One or the other.  Just based on the blip of time we spend on this insignificant-in-the-scheme-of-things rock of ours?  That sounds a little extreme to me.  

And on top of that, just one guy (I believe the goyim refer to him as St. Peter) decides who gets to get in to Heaven?  I didn't think Heaven required a bouncer. Talk about sucky jobs!  I would hate to spend eternity checking people's He's like Santa, except instead of deciding who gets toys or coal, he decides who's naughty and nice enough for eternal paradise.  I can't even begin to describe the myriad shades of gray in that whole debacle!  I know we've spent centuries trying to determine heavenly criteria, but it just sounds like your basic aptitude test to me.  I think I liked the idea of purgatory better: the best of the best (Gandhi, Mother Theresa, Chuck Norris) can go to Heaven, the worst of the worst (Hitler, Jeffrey Dahmer, Casey Anthony) can go to Hell, and the rest of us can just hang out in purgatory.... if loved ones make it to a different floor, they can have visitation rights to the lobby.  That makes things much less complicated, in my opinion.

And how come Hell doesn't have a bouncer?  I get Heaven having one. "No way, you cheated on your taxes. You're goin' downstairs!" But shouldn't Hell have the same regulations?  "Meh, you cheated on your wife, but you were a pretty stand-up guy the rest of the time, so you can't get in."  And how come Hell's the only place with circles?  Shouldn't Heaven get circles too, going the other way?  Yin and yang, y'know?

My theory is that if you're going to designate people to extremes as big as Heaven or Hell, you've gotta have the logistics and details ironed out.

Monday, October 29, 2012

The Titty Nitty-Gritty: A Study of the Ta-tas

Snapple Fact #41: Shrimp can only swim backwards

Today, I would like to discuss one of the most baffling mysteries of human history.  It is a mystery that has never, and I fear, will never be solved.  Despite mankind’s exhausting obsession with this mystery, I am quite confident that it will never be approached with the solemnity required to break the spell it casts over so many human beings.  What is this great is enigma?  Quite simple: Boobs.

Breasts. Titties. Hooters. Funbags. Ta-tas. Jubblies. Dirty pillows. Gazongas. The girls.   Men (and women, on occasion) have found themselves inexplicably mesmerized by these orbs of power since the beginning of time.  They have created and ended careers (not to mention marriages!), motivating and destroying the lives of men throughout history.  I seriously want to know when the first bunch of Homo Erectus (pun sorta intended) dudes got together and said, “Wow, check out those mounds of skin hanging off that lady!  Let’s unceremoniously stare at them for the rest of time!”  

What is so fascinating about the female mammary glands?  Their sole biological purpose of existence is to provide milk for infants (who, if they knew they had other options, would surely desire another source of nutrients).  Almost all human females possess some amount of boobage. They are ever persent in day-to-day life.  They're fracking everywhere!  They are not rare.  They are not a non-renewable natural resource.  They don’t shoot candy or vote or make you a sandwich.  They just sit there under our shirts.  Hell, half of the internet is practically powered by titties alone! We have this infinite source of free titty-viewing, yet women remain subject to the constant, shameless, glazed-over stares, directed 12 inches below our eyes.

Now, I (kinda) get why dudes dig checking out a lady’s reproductive system area.  That's easy; men are hardwired to seek out "poon."  Like all mammals, most people don't need to go to 8th grade Sex Ed. to figure out what goes where and why (though I would highly recommend it so you know about them nasty STDs and such).  Plus, the "vag" is a sacred vessel that holds life and sexual pleasure.  It’s a beautiful flower, with lovely petals that open up and so many possibilities of physical enjoyment, yada yada yada...  But why boobs?  Boobs don’t do any of that. They make absolutely no contribution to the biological procreation process.

Were you to ask a man why he finds sweater puppies so alluring, you would normally receive a vague response like, "Because they're awesome!" As true as that is, I often wonder at the actual reasons as to why they're so awesome.  
  • Obviously, men are very visual creatures.  If you tell them not to look at something, what's the first thing they do?  
  • Men are also very hands-on creatures.  They like being able to always have something extra to play with.  Boobies are often quite pleasant to the touch and are conveniently located for such interaction (i.e. front and center).
  • Men are drawn to the mysterious. They see an attractive setup of cleavage framed by a low-cut shirt and can only imagine what lies beneath.
  • Men often suffer from a lack of shame.  They know what they want and they want it now.  So if shameless ogling results in a woman's disdain, then it's automatically her problem, according to the male logic.
  • Titty Envy: They don't have them, so naturally, they want what they don't have.
In short, hooter-mania is here to stay.  It is the nature of dudes.  I suppose it's a curse for them in a way. Ta-tas are probably the biggest accidental sources of power to ever grace the earth.  They can be used for great good and/or great evil. So use them well, ladies!

Wednesday, September 19, 2012

What I Learned From Cosmo

Quote of the Day:
"Mrs. Robinson, if you don't mind my saying so, this conversation is getting a little strange." - Ben, The Graduate

I recently picked up a copy (and actually purchased! opposed to leafing through a friend's copy) of Cosmopolitan magazine.  For those of you who may not know me very well, I am not what one may refer to as a "Cosmo Girl."  I do not go to cocktail lounges or nightclubs with my girlfriends. I do not possess an obscenely expensive wardrobe.  I do not keep up with the latest celebrity gossip, style trends, and pop culture knowledge.  However, I saw the "adorkable" Zooey Deschanel on the cover and I couldn't resist.  Perhaps there would be some insight to how she got so awesome lingering between the pages.

First of all, I remembered the main reason why I so detest lady magazines:  ADVERTISEMENT BOMBARDMENT!!!!  There were 10 pages of cosmetic, fashion, accessory, and perfume ads before I even got to the Table of Contents (which was followed by another 15 pages of similar ads before getting to the actual articles....which were further peppered with, you guessed it, MORE ads!).  Grrrr!!!

After skimming through Guy Confessions and the Meaning Of Subtle Body Language and Beauty Q&A and 12 Love Moves That Turn Him To Mush and other fluff, I came across an article called The 10 Commandments of Helen Gurley Brown.  I don't know much about the late, former Cosmo editor, but she sounded like a ball-busting, alpha-female, stand-up babe!  Among her Commandments, she promoted confidence, feminism (on any and all levels), inner and outer strength, style, positive self image, and owning relationships and careers.  For all the misogynistic and unrealistic ads and puff-piece articles I flipped through, this particular article gave me pause and made me view the pages of this magazine in a different light:

Maybe I've been looking at things wrong.  I normally view cosmetics as mere face paint to cover up our true selves (not that I don't use it when I want to look nice).  Appearance-consumed women slap on too much of all these products to make themselves look presentable in society.  I never viewed making oneself appear physically attractive as much more than an unfortunate chore yoked on females in order to attract the opposite sex. But what if it isn't just society-pleasing ritual?  Maybe makeup is like a societal war paint. Women apply it to strike a certain tone in order to dominate the field of battle (i.e. the day).  Though still heavily driven by appearance, I think that's a much more aggressive (and frankly, healthier) view than "I have to wear makeup so guys will want me." It instills confidence, power, and pride to say, "Y'know, whatever I do today, I'm gonna look fuckin' good when I do it!"

So thanks to Ms. Deschanel for leading me to Ms. Brown's inspiring mantras!  Despite all the "100 Ways To Please Your Man" articles (seriously, if you want to know what pleases your man, make him a sandwich and don't talk about feelings during the game!) , I feel like I've learned something today.  Who knows?  I may pick up (and purchase) another issue if it means more impromptu feminine enlightenment.  Hell, maybe I'll even start paying attention to the cosmetics and fashion sections!

Girl power!

Monday, August 13, 2012

Things that suck but won't go away

Quote of the Day:
"Eighty percent of the people in the world are fools and the rest of us are in danger of contamination." - Horace Vandergelder, Hello, Dolly!

I would like to begin this post by professing my extreme hatred for the species known as mosquitos.  I have spent the past two weekends being eaten alive overnight by these bloodsucking insects, leaving my normally flawless canvas of alabaster skin (sorta) riddled with ginormous, itchy-as-hell welts.  Now, I am not an angry or vengeful person.  But if a species isn't going to make any valid contribution to the food chain (or society) and then goes around biting everything with a pulse with their nasty, itchy malaria and HIV, I feel entitled to my excessive revulsion.  There is honestly no need for these insects on this planet.  No other species depends on their existence.  So what are they doing here? I understand they're one of God's creatures, but, c'mon!  Is this part of that whole expulsion-from-Eden punishment rigmarole? Cuz it sucks.  That's pretty much all I have to say. Mosquitos suck. No pun intended.... or maybe it was intended.......

Speaking of things that suck but won't go away, Lady Gaga..... no, I don't have anything else.  Just Lady Gaga.... and Justin Bieber...... and Taylor Swift.  Seriously, no wonder today's youth are so fucked up!  If I had to grow up listening to the lame-ass music kids listen to these days, I'd have to shove a po-po-poker in my eye.  Of course, I shouldn't judge.  I spent my childhood listening to Stephen Sondheim and Andrew Lloyd Webber, so who am I to say what constitutes as lame-ass music?

I honestly thought I had more to write about this evening.  My brain's going in 18 different directions, mostly concerning self-doubt and job hunting, but I suddenly just got really tired and don't feel like slithering down into that can of worms tonight. Plus I doubt anyone feels like reading heavy melodrama like that at this hour, so I shall bid the interwebs adieu and good night!

Lady Gaga says goodnight too!

Wednesday, July 25, 2012

Howdy-Do To Starting Anew!

Greetings, Salutations, and Wazzup to you all!

Apparently, my Adventures of a Self-Proclaimed Dork blog has been compromised.  But no matter.  I shall conduct my unfrequented musings at another venue.

If you happened to stumble upon this blog's maiden post (or any future post, for that matter, as I am assuming your stumbling is accidental), let me fill you in on the meat n' potatoes of what kind of stuff you'll be reading:

Context: I have a thought (or a string of thoughts) and I write about it.  My thoughts range from my opinions on pop culture and commercialized holidays to the intelligence of turkeys.  My previous blog was described as the rants and musings of a Nice Jewish Girl with an unhealthy obsession with Broadway musicals.  That's pretty much what to expect here.  I unfortunately don't have the attention span or dedication to come up with a certain theme, but maybe one will evolve one day...

Frequency: I write in waves.  I'll get really inspired and write several entries for a month or two.  Then I'll get writers block or super-laziness and not write a word for a month or two.

Rating:  I have a pretty dry sense of humor with an occasional expletive (or 6) thrown in there.  So while most of my material may be PG-13ish, have your children read at your discretion.

Popularity: I blogged for two years and had only one comment in that time.  The only "follower" I ever had was my boyfriend and he never actually read it.  But that's okay.  I blog like no one's reading, but secretly wish that someone would.  Just like everyone else!

So there you have it, folks!  This is my brain on blogspot.  Happy reading!