Tuesday, November 16, 2010

Tis the Season

There are so many things I love about the holidays.  Christmas music, decorating, yummy food, getting together with family and friends.  But I think what I love most of all is how it brings out the absolute best in all of us.  Example, the other night I was in Target browsing their Christmas items and I overheard the most delightful thing:

Mother to her daughter: Well I guess we'll get this tree.  Even though it's f*cking retarded.

There really is nothing like the holidays.

Thursday, November 4, 2010

Sister Wives. To Take or Not To Take?

Have you guys seen that show on TLC?  Sister Wives?  It's about a polygamist family.  Kody is the douchey charming husband, who by the looks of his hair, sticks his fingers in light sockets on the daily.  He has three wives, Meri, the Pregnant One and the Other one.  He's about to take another wife, well technically he's already taken her.  No not that way, because that would be wrong.  Wait, actually yes in that way, but not before getting married in a ceremony that doesn't legally make them married, but really is just an excuse for Kody to eat cake.

And the Pregnant One is no longer pregnant, because she truely gave birth.  Unless you watch the show you probably missed the double entandre and think I incorrectly spelled truly.  But I didn't. Cuz the baby's name is Truely.  I think.  Well, I know it's named Truely, but I think it's with an e-y.  I don't know why, maybe I saw it somewhere or dreamt it or maybe I am the Pregnant One who is actually no longer pregnant.

Wow ya'll (by the way, I loathe the word ya'll.  Every time someone says it, I want to stab them in the ear with a golf pencil) I just wrote an entire paragraph about absolutely nothing. Truely I did. I don't think you're aware of just how much talent that requires. And how many beers.

When I started this blog, I said (to the voices in my head) that I would never write about controversial issues like politics and religion and homosexuality and women who wear too-tight pants with regular non-thong underwear and the underwear digs into their butt making them look they have four butts - stop it, it's not okay!  My blog was supposed to be a place for me to perfect my craft - mission accomplished, clearly - and have people read it without me wanting to stab them in the eyes with a golf pencil before they can finish for fear The Judgment and The Criticism and the OMG This Girl Is An Idiot Who Needs To Learn How too two To Spell.

Although I have opinions on all of these issues, I was never going to express them in my blog because this is a place of love and happiness and acceptance and way too many shout outs to food.

But just so you know. Politics aren't about taxes or immigration or married men who speak out against the gays but solicit sex in airport bathrooms.  It's not about right wing conservatives or the liberal left.  And it's certainly not about the Tea Party, because seriously, what the hell does tea have to do with anything much less politics? Unless you're having an actual tea party, then tea pretty has everything to do with it.

But I digress.

You know why it isn't about any of these things?  Because politics don't even exist.  Politics are like when your cat walks into the room, sits down and starts moving his eyes around the room like he's watching something, but there' s nothing there and then suddenly he lunges at the wall, looks around like what the hell just happened and then leaves the room like nothing happened.  And then you're like the hell?  That's what politics are.  A whole bunch of shit that looks like it's happening and you're kinda scared, like maybe there's a ghost in the room, and you're like I'm going to do something about it,  so you go vote and then maybe the people you voted for get elected, and maybe they don't, and you're filled with a mixture of extreme terror that the person you didn't vote for is going to f*ck up the country and extreme optimism that the person you did vote for is going to make everything better and declare Fridays  to be National Miniature Candy day and a little fairy will come deliver bite sized snickers and Reeses to your doorstep.  But, in fact, nothing happens and so you just walk away and everyone around you is still worried there's a ghost in the room.

Which is why voting is the biggest waste of time, unless you it gets you out of work.  Then it's totally worth it.  And also?  Free stickers.  A word of caution.  You can't jump back in line or go to another voting place and vote again to receive another sticker.  That's called a felony.  You will go to jail and not only do they not give you more stickers when you go to jail, they take the one you already have.  Which is why I don't vote.  (To my sexy lawyer friend who claims he reads my blog, but never leaves a comment, ya have anything you want to say?  Anything?  Really?  Nothing?  You don't care that I don't vote?  That I'm not even registered?)

Okay fine, I do vote (except for that one time that we're never going to talk about ever ever again).  But when I end up in jail and get my sticker taken away, I'm blaming you. And Peter Pan.  But mostly you.

As I was saying, I don't talk about controversial issues, because there is too much judgment involved.  And this is a non-judgmental blog.  So let's all keep that in mind as I provide wife number one, Meri, with some (non-judgmental) advice.

Really, Meri?  You're jealous your husband is taking another wife?

Really? You're sad that the time he spends courting her takes time away from you?

Really? You're oh-so-weepy because now he occupies your bed only every fourth night?

Really?  You're feeling insecure that she's the newer younger model?

I'm sorry.  I don't mean to be sarcastic.  Your feelings are completely valid.  Any woman in your shoes would feel the same way.  Lucky for you, I think I've come up with a solution to rid you of the sadness and jealousy and insecurities.

Are you ready for it?  It's a pretty radical idea and it's probably going to blow your mind at first.  But hear me out, think about it for a few days and get back to me.  Kay?

Here it is...


I'm sorry, did it sound like I was shouting?  Because I wasn't.  I'm just really really excited that I've come up with a solution to end your misery.

You want to know the greatest part?  Besides no longer having to share your husband with a bunch of other vagin... beds?  No messy divorces.  Your husband's not even legally married to the other three.  He can just walk away.  Child support's going to be a bitch though.  He has a dozen kids, give or take another dozen or so.  But you make sure he pays it.  He made those kids, he better make sure their clothed and fed and receive a good education blah blah blah.

Okay, I'm tired of talking to Meri.  That didn't sound too judgmental right?  If anything, I was helpful.  So helpful.  I don't even know the woman and I just changed her life.  I deserve a medal.  Or at least a cookie.  No!  A cupcake!  Oooooh...donuts.

I'm sorry, what was I saying?

Right.  Sister Wives.  Yeah, I'm thinking of taking one.  I know it probably seemed like I was against the whole sharing of the husband thing, but honestly, I can see how a sister wife could be useful.

Example.  A few nights ago, the husband I were going on a date.  I wore the cutest outfit in the history of ever, but couldn't decide what shoes to wear.  And not because both pairs were so adorable, but because one would have made the outfit and one would have made me look like a   fashion challenged individual.  So what do I do?  I turn to the husband for advice.  Which is a dangerous thing to do.  Because he's a boy.  And not a gay one.

I put a brown shoe on one foot and a shoe of indeterminate color on the other foot and do a flamingo dance in the mirror.  The husband watches and decides on the brown shoes. I think he has made the right choice, but I would appreciate a second opinion.  That of a woman.  Which is where the sister wife would come in.  But I suppose if she agreed with the husband I would suspect that they were conspiring to make me look like an ass and then later were going to talk about me when they were together.  In bed.  After they...you know.  Which is why she would not be allowed to sleep with the husband.

She also can't be prettier than me.  But she can't be ugly either, because that's just a bad reflection on me and the husband.  She would also be expected clean up after me and do my laundry.  Ooh, and have dinner ready when I got home.

Basically she'd be more like a maid with fashion sense.

Any takers?  I'll dress up like a fairy and pay you in miniature candy bars.