Speaking of Miss America, the Miss USA Pageant was on recently. While only one was crowned Leader of Fake Boobs, Plastic Smiles and Eating Disorders, I'd like to congratulate them all for teaching our young girls what a beautiful healthy woman looks like.
Let's see Margaret. You are five feet ten inches tall and eighty pounds. In theory, that sounds skinny, but we can't yet see your rib cage poking through your chest so get thee to a bathroom and begin vomiting. I know it's going to be challenging getting anything to come since you haven't eaten more than a raisin in the last six weeks, but see if you can hack up your left kidney. That oughta knock off a pound or two.
"But mom, I'm so weak. I don't think I have the energy to throw up."
"Margaret! You are an example to young ladies everyone! If you can't inspire them to puke up their internal organs who will?"
"Please mommy. I'm so hungry."
"I will not have that kind of filthy talk in my house young lady! Wash your mouth out with soap while you're in the bathroom. But don't swallow any of the water. You can't afford those empty calories."
Don't get me wrong. I don't blame these women for wanting to be in these pageants. Heck, I thank them. I am a woman and therefore enjoy judging other women as much as the next, uh, woman. An opportunity where we are encouraged to criticize fifty Barbie dolls for the way they walk, they way the talk, the size of their ankles, the way their elbows protrude a little too far to the left, the way their foreheads are too large, their noses too small, their teeth too Vaseline-covered, is every woman's wet dream.
However, I can't help but wonder if the beauty queens' I-haven't-eaten-in-a-month-don't-I-look-smashing figure pisses of the starving people of Ethiopia just a little bit as they try to catch the flies swarming round their heads for a wee bit of nutrition.
People of Ethiopia: You mean they have food, but they choose not to eat it?
I wonder if any beauty queen ever chose "End World Hunger" as her platform. I doubt it. She'd probably have to lead by example and actually eat something. How disgusting.
Um. Where was I?
Oh yes! It's time for another award show.
First I'd like to apologize to all those who've started twitching and hallucinating and have been overcome with night sweats. I'm sincerely sorry I have not blogged in the last two days. But I have been in detox myself.
Sincerely you guys, it has taken over my life.
Me: Honey, I have a problem.
The husband: What?
Me: I'm addicted to twitter.
The husband: Noooooo. You have to stop.
Me: I can't! I can't stop! I can't quit the twitter!
I thought I had it under control. I was all "Pshhh, I can quit any time I want." But then I started developing this rash. (true story) And it started to spread. And oh the itching! When the need to scratch was insatiable, I knew. I was infected with twitter-itis.
I knew the only cure was to stop twatting. "Get back to blogging," I said. "Write a story for the Red Dress Club or Romantic Friday Writers, write something heart-felt and inspiring."
But I couldn't. It was like without twitter, my brain had stopped working.
"I will never write again!" I exclaimed to the husband and with much throwing of knives and angst.
And I didn't. I just sat in the corner, drooled on myself, pulled my hair out and also? Stopped eating. By the time Sunday came I was like, "dang I look good. those beauty queens know what they're doing."
The new and improved, ten pounds lighter me dragged my weak, tired, drool covered, cellulite free ass (wait. nope. the cellulite is still there. lipo is the only cure for that my friends. when all else fails, go under the knife!) to the computer.
"Must produce show. People award needs on counting me."
I began to type with abandon. Any little lovely thought that popped into this psychotic head o' mine magically appeared on the screen. I typed and typed, and, well, here we are, folks. Here. We. Are.
I think we can all agree this is shaping up to be the best awards show ever.
Let's officially kick things off good and proper like with our host Jerry the Juggling Shark.
The first award goes to my one of my new twitter friends. A fellow twat, if you will. She is all kinds of awesome and she whores out my blog in a way that makes me green with envy. She may also be a robot.
If I had to describe @SaucyWithATwist in four words it would be Saucy. With a twist.
My wit. It astounds me.
Let's all put our flippers together and cheer wildly as Miz Saucy comes to the stage and accepts her award.
The next award goes to someone, who, quite literally saved my life. Elise Seaton aka @notbagels writer of the awesome Things That Are Not Bagels tweeted me one night at two in the morning. From my I-am-about-to-be-eaten-by-an-alligator fear induced haze I reached for the sound of the tweet, thus ending my nightmare. Her tweet, which either had to do with bagels, or things that are not bagels, saved me from the scariest dream of my life. You should all fall to your knees and thank her, for if not for her tweet, I would sitting in the pit of an alligator's stomach and there would be no more Sarcasm Goddess. Oh the horror!
Please join me in applauding the heroic @notbagels for her award.
And now for the Comment of the Week. I must say, it was a tough decision. So many great and inspiring and, who can forget ha-larious, things left by you all - so thank you bunches.
But there can be only one Comment of the Week and this lady made me pee just a little when I read what she had to say.
Bella: Lady, thank you for the much needed laughs! I just recently got a Twitter twat thing and I don't know what the hell to do with it. I mean, does anyone care to read my "updates"? Or will I be sending these off to cyberspace only to have them make their way to a small village in Timbuctoo where my identity will be appropriated by a pygmy who will then max out my credit card? Is it worth the effort? Please advise. Oh, and for icing on the cake, the word verification is "butpit." Should I interpret this as some sort of sign? Again, please advise. :)
Bella aka @lady_bella is new to twitter so let's all give her a twatterly welcome and confuse the twat out of her.
And to answer your question Bella, people will totally care to read your updates as long as they involve bacon, uterus explosions, the alligator apocalypse, bacon, crotch corks, co-workers you suspect are poisoning you, bacon, threatening to eat someone's child, bacon, suspecting your boss is plotting to kill you, drinking toilet water, and lastly...bacon. If any of your tweets have anything to do with any of that, then yes, people will be dying to read them. And if "butpit" is any indication, your followers will be plentiful and loyal. Go forth and twitter, my little twat.
I honestly have no idea if there's more to the show or not, cuz all I can think about now is bacon, and how I may appropriate some before my uterus explodes. Hope you all have a lovely Monday.