Tag Archives: funny

The Navy Seal (Part 1)

I’ve been telling myself I wasn’t going to post anything unless I had something to talk about aside from Nutter Butter and how sad I still am about the breakup.  I don’t want to make it harder on myself than it already is, and definitely don’t want to put you all through the pain of having to read the same thing over and over again.  

With that being said, Chuck came to visit me on Saturday.  I had been scouting out friends all week to come and day drink with me.  For the first time in months it was going to be warmer than 50 degrees and the sun was supposed to make an appearance, why wouldn’t we celebrate with some afternoon cocktails?

We made it to the bar around 2:30 and as soon as we walked in we spotted a group of guys all decked out in America gear, short shorts, and funny mustaches.  For those of you that don’t know, these are 3 of my favorite things.  I love people that dress up funny to drink, it just makes the day that much better.  Anyway, I knew after I got a drink or two in me I’d make friends with these guys and we’d have a gay ol time.  And that we did.

A few minutes later one of them walked by us so I asked what they were celebrating.  And he shouted “MERICA!”  Oh. My. God. Yes!  Eventually we made our way over to the rest of the group, talking, mingling, and taking pictures.  

After talking to one of the guys for a while, I found out that they were “from” a really small town nearby, they all worked together (for the government), yet all had San Diego phone numbers – which is a solid 2,000+ miles away.  When I asked what they did for the government they all got weird, said “stuff”, and changed the subject.  The other thing about these guys is that behind the mustaches and goofy clothes, they were all really hot and jacked with huge muscles and awesome bodies. Hmmmmmmm.

As it got later in the day, these guys trickled out and we were left with the only 2 without mustaches that weren’t dressed in America gear. As I started talking to this one guy, Kyle, about their job he finally revealed that they are all Navy Seals and were “hanging out” at a nearby military base until April.  I didn’t believe him until he showed me his government ID and a picture on his phone of him dressed in full on sailor gear. But I still kept asking what business Navy Seals have HERE, because we are landlocked. He kept saying he couldn’t tell me, so I was then convinced they were a part of Seal Team 6 and killed Bin Laden.  HAHA. I know it sounds crazy, but he never denied it.  This is the point in the day when I should have stopped drinking and just went home.  I could’ve left the day thinking about all the hot Navy Seals I met and wouldn’t have any regrets the next day.  

But, you know all to0 well that’s not what happened…

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Kiss her Crass[ECards]

A few weeks ago Lucky and I had the idea to do a Q & A with our twitter friend, the absolutely hilarious, founder of the website CrassECards, and she agreed to do it! You’ve probably noticed we retweet her sayings more than we tweet our own thoughts, but what can ya do?  The girl is funny and we can always use more funny in our lives.  After reading through her answers to the questions we asked I want her to be my real life friend, which might be creepy, but I’m keeping it.   She sent her answers with the greeting, “Hey Vaginas!” which wins a top spot in my book everyday.  But, before we get into the good stuff, I’m not that smart and didn’t know what crass meant, so for those of you who are also not that smart, you’re welcome:

crass [kras] adjective, -er, est. 

Without refinement, delicacy, or sensitivity; gross; obtuse, stupid.

All of my favorite words, without further ado I present to you: an effing hilarious Q & A with the writer and founder of CrassECards 

CrassECards Website  CrassECards Twitter  CrassECards Facebook

Check it out or I WILL CUT YOU. 

1. How & when did you start CrassECards?

Prior to spending my days writing equal opportunity offending humor, I worked with and on behalf of elected representatives and non-profits that provided services to some of the San Francisco Bay Area’s most challenging neighborhoods. But when the economy went to pooh the resources that supported my work vanished so I had to figure out what to do with myself. For Christmas in ’09 I gifted myself the DVD 500 Days of Summer and when I got home I read the jacket on the back of it and the first sentence said Joseph Gordon Levitt ‘s character was a greeting card writer and I immediately thought, “hey I could do that.”  Instead of watching the movie that night I sat down and started writing cards. The problem was they all came out kind incredibly sarcastic. So I gave up my dream of Hallmark discovering me, a dream that had only begun about 15 minutes earlier, and decided to start Crass. I launched this current version in March of this year. 

 2. Do you have a favorite card (or two)?

Picking a favorite card is like trying to decide which boob you like better. Actually it’s not like that at all.  My left boob is slightly bigger and, unlike my right one, knows going nipple gets a girl a free round. That being unnecessarily said I’ve written more than 2,000 jokes for 50 different occasions but I’d say these are a few of my favorite:

GOOD LUCK: Good luck on your date.

          Here’s hoping it doesn’t end in rape

ENCOURAGEMENT: I wish I could lift your spirits

          But not only are you a loser, your spirit weighs like athousand pounds

FRIEND: You’re like a sister to me

           My fat, suicidal sister that calls too much

 3. By the sayings on your cards, we assume you’re hilarious—does that humor come across in person?

You know what happens when you assume, you make an ass out of yourself and it bugs the hell out of me. That’s how that saying goes, right? ONLY KIDDING! If you were to ask a few of my friends I think funny would probably be one of the first three adjectives they’d use to describe me.  

4. How does your honest sarcasm fair in dating? Will you ever find someone as funny as you?

Is it that obvious that I’m single? I don’t actually walk around hating everybody, as my cards suggest. I love dark beer and watching sports AND I have very little hair on my body so I think guys get the best of both worlds. PLUS I’ve got that slightly larger left boob going for me so guys are busy concentrating on that. To my knowledge, sarcasm has never been an issue.

 5. Are any (or all) of the cards based from real life situations?

The Mother’s Day e-cards are the only ones based on any one in my life. Read those and then you’ll understand why I’m a cutter.

 6. Are there any subjects you just won’t touch?

Nope. I don’t write cards for the sake of being mean or degrading they’re really all just jokes. If someone finds something offensive I recommend they check out another card category and laugh at someone else’s expense. Muslims, Jews, the Chinese, Mexicans, African Americans, the United States of America and Uz Beki Beki Stan Stan…everybody gets it. 

7. Are you a solo act or do you have equally hilarious friends helping you come up with card ideas?

I try to surround myself with people who work for companies that have perks like “employee discounts” and those people aren’t usually the comedic types so I write Crass jokes all by myself. I do, however, encourage Crass’ users to submit their “Daily Crass,” which is just a relatable daily rant about something, so I can post it on the homepage for the world to enjoy. I also have a section called “User Cards” where people can write as many cards as they want, select the occasion and I’ll upload them onto the site.

 8. Do you ever get messages from crazy fans/followers with card ideas? If so, what’s the craziest you’ve gotten so far?

I’ve received a handful or so of some really bad jokes but it’s all good in the hood. It makes me feel like people are paying attention and want to get in on the Crassiness so that’s awesome. 

 9. Do you ever get e-card writers block and how do you work through it to bring the funny out?

When I get writer’s block I usually get naked and look at myself in the mirror. A million negative thoughts flood my mind and at that point it’s just about figuring out how to work them into a joke about Kwanzaa or Bastille Day or something.

10. What is your ultimate goal in creating these e-cards?

I would really love for millions of people to visit Crass everyday and buy Crass t-shirts and phone apps and printed cards all because they think it’s super funny and a great site to go to and just waste a good hour, hour and half reading a thousand funny one-liners. Oh and I want CBS to develop a show called Sh#! My E-Cards Say.

 11. Do you have any celebrity followers that have retweeted your e-cards?  Who would you most like to see your e-cards and retweet them?

I’d LOOVE for a celebrity to follow me re-tweet an e-card. But what I’d love even more is for one of them to become my partner or co-founder. I imagine changing the name of the site to “From the writer of 40 Year-old Virgin and Knocked Up…CrassECards”  or “Tyler Perry Presents…CrassECards.” I’d also be willing to change Crass to “Krass” to get Mama Kardashian interested and then I could get a 2-hour special on E.  I also think it’s a perfect fit for Bethenny Frankel of Bravo fame.  I’ve already got the stick figure mascot (which can be replaced with your Facebook profile picture) so all we’d have to do is change it to “Skinny Crass.” (Editors Note:  Would Kelsey Grammer Presents…CrassECards work?  He follows us on twitter, we’ve got the hookup.)

 12. Any final thoughts that we can all take away to live life more like a funny e-card?

On Crass when you “Click Here” to see the punch line of an e-card sarcastic confetti also appears so I’d suggest walking around with confetti in your back pocket and throwing it out whenever you make fun of some one to their face. They’ll be distracted by the pretty colors and you’ll get a head start as you run away.

And there you have it.  CrassECards also donates 75% of all revenue generated to non-profit organizations.  She’s funny and helps the world.  Stop being a debbie downer, do your part, and go click some links so she can help save starving children and drug addicts.

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,


So I had a hot date this weekend.  Don’t get too excited, it was with myself.  You know how people always say, “How can you expect someone to love you when you don’t love yourself?” I’ve become a master at loving myself and still no love from the fellas.  But, I’m fine with that.  Honestly, if I had my pick of going out to dinner and making meaningless conversation with a stranger with false hopes of him being “the one” or sitting on my ass watching chick flicks and ordering in wings, cheese fries, and beer – I’d pick the later.  

Is this what biter sounds like?  I think so.  I do believe I have good reason to be biter though.  I realized this past week that it has been almost 14 months since I’ve gotten laid.  That’s right, one-four.  There are people out there who have gotten pregnant twice since the last time I had sex.  To tell you the truth, I didn’t even notice and I certainly didn’t miss it, especially not the awkwardness afterward and the whole “do you have a condom” convo, and I DEFINITELY didn’t miss the guy not knowing what to do with my lady parts.  This might be more of me becoming a-sexual talk than biter.  I think I heard once a-sexual people are serial killers? That might be a lie, either way still scary.

I guess I could blame my “revirginization” (as we’ll call it) on being busy, starting a new job, and all that jazz.  But I think it’s mostly that I haven’t met a guy since Hottie that I’ve had a romantic connection with and that’s a little scary too, almost more scary than a-sexual serial killers.  Because if I’m 26 and can’t find a guy that I find interesting enough to hop in the sack with, how much worse is it going to get the older I get and the further their hairlines recede?  I’m dong my part here boys, I’ll keep my goodies looking perky if you buy Rogaine in bulk.  

Anyway, enough of me feeling sorry for myself because my vagina is literally contemplating retirement and on to some real news.  I start boot camp this morning.  That’s in oh… 6 hours.  It’s going to be rough I won’t lie.  I was just telling Lucky about my instructor, he’s an ex-marine with a soul patch.  Ex-marine – ok… soul patch – not ok.  I think the work out should be decent, but it will be hard to look at his face.  

This boot camp is 4 weeks long and 4 times a week.  My plan is to do some cardio on the days I’m not in class and then kill myself at the end of the 4 weeks.  Seriously though, I’m getting older, if I let my body go I have no chance at getting a hot husband who will inevitably cheat on me with his sexretary when my eye lids (and boobs) start to sag.  So when that happens I need to at least be able to look back at pictures of myself when I was looking my best, fingers crossed that will be after this class and not 10 years ago when I was in high school.

In other news, if anyone was following my great roommate debacle of last week I have decided to surrender my room to crack-head Tim so that I can buy a new car when mine decides to kick the bucket (which should be any day now), and then live out of it.  Really though, I don’t plan to be in this apartment much longer whether it’s in a room with doors or my dungeon.  I don’t fancy living with boys.  So that’s that.  I came to the conclusion this weekend while I was sitting in serenity with all the boys being gone for the weekend that no matter where I sleep in this apartment I will NEVER bring a guy I am half-way interested in here so I may as well get cheap rent out of the situation.  

I feel like after going on a really awesome date with a guy and him dropping me off and me being like, “Oh do you want to come in” just can not and will not ever happen as long as I am under this roof for the following reasons:

1. Introducing him to the roommates.  – Imagine having 3 older brothers and bringing your new boyfriend home to meet them, this is exactly how it would be for me, only my older brothers would be drunk and make jokes about my boobs.  Not attractive.

2. Disintegrating furniture – These guys have no class, our furniture is literally falling apart but I’m not shelling out the bucks to buy new so they can tear that up too, no way no how, and no way no how would I let a guy I like see that I live in such a hole.

3. The bathroom – No matter how much I clean, these guys get their hair everywhere, and there’s always toothpaste in the sink, ALWAYS.  Just gross, no respectable man that I date will be like this and he also shouldn’t have to be subjected to seeing disgusting men in their habitat.

4. The farts – With all 3 boys present in 1 room it smells like farts, whether they are farting or not they just as a whole stink like farts.  I can’t stand it, so no guy I date will be able to stand it either.

So there you have it, a few of the reasons why I can’t date until I move out of this crap hole.  As if I needed to convince any of you, I’m sure you’re all sitting there thinking Umm helloooo Miss Obvious, how about the fact that you live in a dungeon with no door for a reason???!!!  Touche friends, touche. 

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

A walk down (prom’s) memory lane.

Well… it’s Friday morning at nearly 2AM and I’m drunk…(drunk was originally spelled with 3 r’s, thank you spell check) clearly I’m in no shape to blog so…
Buttons recently shared this story with us and we thought it was quite hilarious…we hope you’ll love it, too!
*     *     *
In honor of prom season Lucky and Gizzy asked me to write you guy a lil treat. 
We will start with a lil high school recap. When I was in high school I became friends with a girl, we will call her LaShell Cheesewizzer.
Lashell had a TON of drama in her life. I remember one weekend Lucky and Gizzy and I went to a sleep over at this girl’s house because her boyfriend of 3 years broke up with her over a text… and this was when texting was first invented… SO it was a pretty big deal.
ANYWAY. The girl created drama. But WHATEVER.
SO LaShell and I started hanging out a lot and we thought it would be fun to go to prom together in a big group—there were 4 couples that we had planned on going with. We picked out a restaurant, got our dresses and made plans to get a limo. I told her that I had a hair stylist that I really liked and that we should go there at the same time to get our hair done. She thought it was a great idea. SO we booked the appointment.
About a week before prom she called me and said “So there isn’t enough room in the limo for you and your boyfriend. Sorry.” I was furious! She had found another couple that I guess she liked better and traded me in for them. So I thought about what I could do to get back at her. 
The next day I called the hair salon. The conversation went down like this:
Salon: Thank you for calling Hairs Shmumlimited how can I help you?
Me: Hey!! My name is Lashell Cheesewizzer and I have an appointment on Saturday to get my hair done for prom…yeah I need to cancel that.
Salon: WHAT?  You want to cancel your hair appointment the week of prom?!
Me: Yep some things came up and I won’t make it. Thanks!
Soooo I don’t speak to LaShell the whole week and Saturday, prom day, rolls around. I go to get my hair done and there was NO sight of her. I was kind of mad because I was hoping for a big dramatic scene of her coming in and there being another girl in the chair. BUT nothing. There was someone else but no LaShell. Boo.
Prom weekend came and went and I heard nothing out of her.
Fast forward a few years. I was talking to my now husband, who was my date for prom that year. Somehow the subject came up and he informed me that his mother had overheard me talking and then called Hairs Shmumlimited and told them she was a teacher at our high school and what I had done. Apparently after that incident the salon made a secret word to cancel appointments…. That is probably one of the reasons to this day that she hates me. Oh well.
I told my mom about the story, but way after it had happened. She thought it was mean but also kind of funny. So every once in a while she would bring it up to me.. proving that I can be an evil bitch.
A few weeks ago I went into a chain furniture store. I had been eyeing this end table that matched the coffee table I already had. Unfortunately the furniture store was phasing out that line and I was pretty much SOL. So I went a different location… the one closest to my house.
When I first walked in there were two employees standing at the counter and no one would help me. Finally I walked up and asked for the table. When one of the girls turned around it was LaShell! SHIT! I pretended like I didn’t know her. We talked about how to get the table and blah blah blah… then it comes time to take my contact info. FUUUCCKKKK. 
L: So what is your first name? 
Me: Buttons B-u-t-t-o-n-s
L: Your last name?
Me: Pinkberry
L: OHHHHH did your last name used to be Ritters”
Me: Yeah….
L: We went to high school together… Remember?
Me: Umm no…. 
I stare at her name tag awkwardly and then muster up the most surprised look I could come up with:
Me: OHhhh yeah LaShell? Wow you have changed so much I didn’t even recognize you!!
L: That’s what I’ve heard. OK well I will call you if your table comes in.
I leave the store with my mom and as soon as the door closes while my back is still facing the store. I said OMG do you remember when I canceled the girl’s hair appointment? My mom was like yeah why? I said because that was her!!! UGGGHHHHHH Of course my mom said something like “wellll the fate of the end table is now in your hands.”
Doesn’t that stink? Karma is a big fat jerk. 
Thanks mom. Unfortunately my mom was right.. BUT a week later  I got a call from LaShell that my table was there and I could come pick it up. Fortunately she was off when I went to get it. YIKES.
Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Lets just jump on the bandwagon, shall we?

Well I’ve officially ran out of things to blog about, I could tell the story of how I finally broke out of my rut and went out on a week night last night but I’m afraid everyone would be poorly disappointed when I ended the story way short because I came home and got in bed at 9pm.  I blame it on my “adjusting” which is a period I have deemed to be 6 months, I have 2 more months until I officially become a loser again.  Until then, cheers to adjustment periods! At an attempt to clean out our drafts section, here’s an old blog I started working on but never made the cut for January…

I’m sure everyone is about as sick as I am of seeing facebook friend’s status updates saying, “For 27 yeras I have been a Scorpio and now I’m an Ophiuchus, WHAT IS AN OPHIUCHUS!!?” I don’t know friends, I don’t know.  Until it gets a picture/symbol of it’s own it’s really just a poser.

But all this nonsense has made me a Pisces.  Which is fine by me, because you know what?! My whole life I read the Aries horoscope thinking this does not sound like me AT ALL.  All that zodiac jibber jabber always talked about how Aries are these big strong outgoing pushy people, which is not me.  I’m timid and shy, a Pisces if you will.  I always read the Pisces horoscope and told myself I could be halvsies because I was born in on March 25, which is only 4 days into Aries, so it’s a little bit Pisces too. For example, Astrology.com says, “Aries are happiest engaging in martial arts,” Um yeah, no.  “Sun in Pisces people are frequently pegged as wishy-washy,” YES!! Except it also describes Pisces as what I would picture tree huggers and hobos chasing their dreams to be, which is not so much me either.  So, if Aries and Pisces had a baby, it would be born on March 25 and be just like me.  So that’s one problem in my life that has been solved, and you all just witnessed it first hand and wasted 2 minutes of your life reading that.  My sincerest apologies, glad you were there to see me work through this difficult time.

Moving on to my next sporadic thought.  Last week I watched The Talk.  I don’t know why I watched The Talk, I’m not particularly proud of it, but an interesting topic of conversation got started and it made me think of my Cocktails At Tiffany’s family here.   Someone in the crew of D list celebrities that host The Talk brought up how what you look for in a man changes as you get older.

Darlene from Roseanne said that when she was in her 20’s she would overlook the small things that should be stop signs in relationships.  An example she used was a drug addict. Which, ok girlfran, been there done that.  Lucky can vouch for me in saying that when I dated the druggie also known as Snoop-Linus that was a low point in my making excuses for worthless guys era.  I mean we’ve all done it, we like a guy so we make excuses for him even though we all know better and know that if we have to make an excuse we probably shouldn’t be with them.  But we’re in our 20’s and we’re learning so we’re allowed to be stupid as long as we learn from our mistakes.  Blah blah blahhh.

Anyway, they went on to say a study showed that women in their 20’s look for men who are “kind” and “faithful” while women in their 30’s look for men with a “good sense of humor,” then they made another valid point, that the study is full of shit.  Women in their 20’s WANT to like the kind guy, but instead they like the asshole.  Which just makes my whole entire life make more sense.

… This is where the post left off, but I’m going to roll with it.  At this point in my 26 year old life a guy could be about as funny as a box of rocks but if I knew he’d never cheat on me I’d marry him yesterday.  I don’t really get how these women on the talk can believe a person ever actually quits looking for someone who is faithful but if that day ever comes I give all of you permission to shoot me in the face.  The day I say, “Well he makes me laugh so I’ll just turn my head while he’s getting some whoopie from his sexretary,” will be the day hell freezes over.

(Side note: Has anyone seen the new jamster commercial? “Text your name: Miley, and the guy’s name: Justin to 234345” !!!! Jamster! Get with the times, the Bieb and Miley will NEVER be a couple.  Ugh)

Anyway, I get the whole idea of looking for different things as your age increases but faithfulness ever not being #1 in anyone’s book just blows my mind.

On another thought, tonight Heather on the Real World finds out her lover Dustin (Zito) did gay porn.  I absolutely cannot wait.  I may even muster up the energy to twatter through it all.  See you there.

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

I wanna sit next to daddy!

Everywhere I look there’s another bratty child.

I’m quite certain we’ve had this conversation before, and it’s well-known that I don’t like kids. Sure, you’re saying, “but, but MY kid, MY kid is just an angel.”

Well, unless you gave birth to a child who doesn’t produce spit, snot, or shit, and is without tonsils, then you’re child probably isn’t an angel. Just saying.

Or, there is a slight possibility all the good kids are at home and not in my gynecologist’s office lobby. If THAT is the case, maybe you’re right, and all the good children are at home and not out in the world, pissing me off.

So yeah, yesterday it was time for my annual gyno checkup (don’t worry guys, I won’t get into details). As with most doctor-dentist-caretaker types, I do get a little anxiety before my trip to the gyno.

I blame this on two things: 1. My very first trip to the gyno, and 2. the children and pregnant moms I see there.

I didn’t have my first trip to the gyno until I was 20. I didn’t lose my virginity until I was 19, and my parents pretty much avoided all sex-talks of any kind, until I had to be like ok I’m scared I have lady cancer, please take me to the gyno.

I was home from college, fresh off a breakup from a man who simply walked away from me. My mom was trying to do me a favor and she made an appointment with her gyno…who was a man.

Since my mom didn’t have a problem with it, I figured it was no big deal. Before I went to the appointment, they had given my mom a form I needed to fill out—you know, when was your last period? Do you have sex? What forms of contraceptive do you use?

My mom was eyeing the paper as I filled it out, which pissed me off.

So we get to the doctor’s office, and it’s like all pregnant women. They call my name, I change into that oh-so-sexy gown, and while I wait for the doctor to come in, I was reading a tattered copy of John Grisham’s “The Firm.” Nothing like reading a legal thriller while you’re waiting to have your pink lady probed and judged.

My doctor comes in, asks me about the book I’m reading and finds it necessary to get a few laughs in. Whatever. He asks me the standard questions about why I came in, which turns into a huge problem.

Doc: Why did you come in today?

Me: I’m old enough to have an appointment and I’ve been worried about some slight pain in my uterus area, I’m paranoid it’s cancer.

Doc: Why would you think that?

Me: Um, I don’t know? Because I’ve never had it checked out.

Doc: So you’re sexually active, yet you’re not on birth control?

Me: WAS, I was having sex. I’m not anymore. And I’ve heard birth control makes you fat.

Doc: Why do you say you’re not sexually active anymore?

Me: Because I’m not dating anyone anymore, thanks.

Doc: Why did you guys break up?

Me: That’s a little personal and really has nothing to do with my cancer-eaten vagina.

Doc: Well maybe he was cheating on you and gave you an STD.

Then, I cried. Thanks a lot, asshole. I got dressed and went into the lobby to tell my mom her doctor was a fucking asshole and made me feel like a whore, while simultaneously making fun of me for reading John Grisham.

After that, I didn’t go to the gyno for years. But then, I got back to having sex, so I got on birth control and somehow, I didn’t get fat (NuvaRing is awesome).

Now, my pet peeve is simply the kids. I don’t mind pregnant women bringing their other children along, but why are we bringing the entire family? I’m seriously asking. Anyone out there bring their husbands and kids to the gyno? Because I want a logical reason why.

Yesterday, I was sitting in the lobby, in a row of four chairs. There was an older lady next to me, alone, then me, then a mom, and her husband. Dancing around us all was a bratty spit machine who kept taking off his shoes. His parents were doing that half-ass punishment, “come on, put your sh—no, put your shoe on!”

The mom was willing to do just about anything to make this kid happy, including switching seats. At first, she let the kid sit next to me. Which got her one dirty look from me, capped off with a loud sigh and a dramatic look at my watch. She switched back. Then traded with her husband, which got a nice yell from her kid, “NO, I WANNA SIT NEXT TO DAD-DYYYY.”

Fucking lil bastard. I’d never been so happy to hop on that scale and wear the ugly gown.

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Amazon is trying to kill me.

Hello all! I promise Gizzy & I are getting back to our regular postings, it has taken me awhile to get back into the swing of things after that delicious Turkey Day break. I promise we won’t be getting off-track for anymore holidays, because my family hates me and is ditching me for Christmas and Gizzy cancelled our New Year’s Eve trip to Party City. So I will be at home for the rest of my life, putting bricks of cocaine on a golden scale labeled: reasons my life sucks hard, reasons I shouldn’t kill myself. But anyway…

I stayed home sick yesterday, so today is my first day back in Loserville. And it sucks, bad. But that’s not what I’m here to discuss today. It’s time I talk about Amazon.

Really, I’m not that much into Amazon. I think, in my entire life, I’ve only ordered five things from Amazon. One of them being one of those straight blade razors (the old fashioned kind) for my then-boyfriend last Christmas. I changed my mind and sent it back, even though it was pretty cool.

Other than that, I’ve bought a few books. But despite my scarcity among the pages of Amazon, they still think they know me. I was surfing around on the site Sunday night, hoping for some good deals on Cyber Monday. So, I clicked on Amazon’s “recommendations” for me. They are as follows:

1. Apathy and Other Small Victories by Paul Neilan

Shane has a monotonous temp job at an insurance agency, where he is supposed to alphabetize paperwork but instead spends his time sleeping on the toilet. After work, he is besieged by a gallery of grotesques: a vapid girlfriend who sexually brutalizes him; an absurdly macho neighbor with a leather-clad guinea pig for a sex slave; and his dentist’s deaf assistant, who sings atonal karaoke, teaches him to sign obscenities and furnishes a wispy narrative thread by getting murdered.

Out of all the recommendations for me, this one sounds so fucked up I might just have to order it.

2. Men Are Better Than Women by Dick Masterson

Through a process of exhaustive man research he calls “keeping his eyes open,” Dick Masterson has compiled a Magnum-size list of the ways men are better than women. It is an infallible compendium of man’s greatness, filled with the most egregiously fallacious arguments ever put to words, but with some kind of miraculous, rock-solid man logic dripping like motor oil from every sentence.

“By Dick Masterson”? Really?

3. The Modern Drunkard by Frank Kelly Rich

Attempting to deconstruct America’s joyless obsession with sobriety, The Modern Drunkard offers today’s befuddled drinkers a comprehensive and instructive manual on how to drink-and how to do it well.

Excuse me, Amazon, but I think I have this covered.

4. Faking It: How to Seem Like a Better Person Without Actually Improving Yourself by the writers of College Humor

The prevaricating pros who helped students glide through seven years of college in The CollegeHumor Guide to College are back to show post-grads how to turn life into an “Easy A” by, well, faking it. From sounding like an MBA to bribing the ma”tre d’ to acting sensitive post-sex, here is everything aspiring equivocators need to know to B.S. their way to success in the real world. As the authors remind readers: “The important thing isn’t who you are; it’s who other people think you are.”

At first, I thought this sounded like a book I needed, but really, I think I’m too lazy to fake anything.

5. The Complete Asshole’s Guide to Handling Chicks by Karl Marks

Ever wonder why the a**hole always gets the girl? The answers are all here in this cradle-to-grave primer outlining how women can be manipulated, frustrated, and ultimately dominated through-out the course of a man’s life.

Apparently Amazon thinks I have a dick, and that I have no success with dating and sex of any sort. They’ve got half of it correct!

6. Death and Dying: Life and Living by Charles A. Corr, Clyde M. Nabe, and Donna M. Corr

Practical and inspiring, this best-selling book helps you learn to cope with encounters with death, dying, and bereavement. The authors integrate classical and contemporary material, present task-based approaches for individual and family coping, and include four substantial chapters devoted to death-related issues faced by children, adolescents, adults, and the elderly.

What. The. Fuck?

7. A Practical Guide to Racism by C.H.Dalton

A Practical Guide to Racism contains sparkling bits of wisdom on such subjects as:
• The good life enjoyed by blacks, who shuffle through life unhindered by the white man’s burdens, such as reverse racism and white slavery, to become accomplished athletes, rhymesmiths, and dominoes champions.
• The sad story of the industrious, intelligent Jews, whose entire reputation is sullied by their unfortunate taste for the blood of Christian babies.
• A close look at the bizarre, sweet-smelling race known as “women,” who are not good at anything— especially ruling the free world.

I bet DDM is just eating this up with a spoon like Christmas puddin at Bob Cratchet’s home. I’m not a fucking racist, okay?!?!?!

In conclusion, Amazon thinks I am a male, fresh out of college who has no knowledge of interacting with other humans, no idea on how to drink or get laid by the proper slut. I’m clearly a racist and terrified of death and would enjoy reading novels about men sleeping on toilets.


As promised, here are the pictures from the football game in our Fruit of the Loom costumes:

That would be Buttons, as the grapes, Gizzy as an Apple with her worm puppet, and yours truly as the naner.

Me and Buttons, sloppy drunk. That whole costume-around-the-face thing really sucked, I will say. It made me laugh that everyone understood our theme, even though there is no naner in the Fruit of the Loom bunch—it’s an apple, two bunches of grapes, and a set of leaves. So, all day I kept feeling like this character from the 90’s Nickelodeon cartoon:

I totally wished I had a pair of those banana shoes!

If you haven’t read our first L, G, & SG advice column below, please do! Give our girl some advice…and if you got a problem (Yo! I’ll solve it!) shoot us an e-mail at: cocktailsattiffanys@gmail.com

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,