Tag Archives: guys

Dear Idiot (Part Deux)


A while back I did a couple of entries regarding people who annoy the ever living crap out of me on a constant and daily basis. I don’t remember exactly when because whenever there’s a new season of “Project Runway” on, time loses all sense of meaning. Regardless, you can read them here and here. They’re pretty awesome. They got good responses, so I thought I’d write another. As time marches on and I grow older and wiser, one would think I would also grow some patience with my fellow man. It turns out, it’s quite the opposite. I’m more irritated by people than ever. Why are people such jerks? I get so mad! Why?! Why are you like this, you damn freak?! I just want to punch you until you cry and then yell at you to shut up!woman-going-crazy

(Why can’t you be normal? Like me!)

Dear Idiot: Talky-Talkerton

I’m a friendly person. I have lots of friends and acquaintances. I love talking to them. The sound of my own voice is charming. But I know how to pick up on the non-verbal cues that my charm is wearing thin. Not everyone is as astute as I am though. Some folks will just keep talking. And talking. And talking. And talking. This drives me crazy. If you see me peeking at the clock over your shoulder, slowly backing away from you or putting my fingers in my ears and singing “Baby Got Back”, you need to stop talking. Please, shut your face hole. I don’t want to hear anymore. You are boring me. And I hate being bored. It ranks right up there with watching the news and eating broccoli. I might be a great actress but even I can’t act like I give a shit about your upcoming weekend of wallpapering your grandmother’s bathroom but for so long. Even though wallpaper paste makes you nauseous like that time you threw up funnel cake at the Salem Fair where your favorite ride is the Scrambler but they don’t even have it anymore, but they do have the bobsled thingees where you ran into your ex’s new girlfriend and she hasn’t barfed up any funnel cakes lately because HA, she’s gotten fat, God how you hate her. Sometimes, to try to distract the talker, I’ll start talking. Ok, I listened to you talk for 42 ½ minutes. It’s my turn to talk now. How about you listen to me for a bit? Quid pro quo, Clarice. But you know what that gets me? The stink eye for interrupting! I’m like, so rude.exasperated-woman

(As I was saying, Lowe’s didn’t have Grammy’s plaid wallpaper so I had to go to Home Depot. And then…)

You know what? Just shut up. Stop talking. Forever. Leave me alone. I don’t care what’s happening in your life. God only gave me so much time on this earth and I don’t want to spend it listening to your endless prattle. Just. Stop. Talking.

Dear Idiot: Stranger Danger

Dear Stranger. Don’t touch me. Ever. Why are you touching me? Seriously. Stop it. Why in the hell do people who don’t know me, touch me? Back when my commercials were on tv, I had a few people who would come up and poke me and say, “I know you! (poke-poke) I saw you on tv. (poke) Omg, I totally know you! (poke-poke)” Ok, you did see me on tv but you don’t know me. And stop poking me, dammit, before I bend your bony, pokey finger so far back you’re whistling Dixie. But I’m not on tv anymore and still, kids, old ladies, grown men, etc. all seem to think it’s ok to touch me. They pat me on the back, hold my hand or arm or even touch my hair. It happens in grocery store lines, at Wal-Mart, at work, in restaurants and so on. When I lived in Glendale, a couple of guys would stand right up behind me, put their face in my hair and smell me! I know I’m kinda soft and usually smell good but don’t touch! What is wrong with you? I’m not a dog that’s been left tied to a lamp post. It’s just freaking weird. Don’t get in my personal space. Especially if you haven’t even bought me dinner yet. And I know it’s not just me. I see strangers touch other people’s babies. Cuz I guess the best way to strengthen their weak little immune systems is to expose them to as many dirty hands as possible. And the worst is when you see some stranger rubbing some pregnant lady’s belly. Holy crap! Keep your creepy hands to yourself. A baby bump is not public domain! How would you feel if I just walked up and started patting your tummy? Though my guess is you would probably like it, freak that you are.belly

(Go ahead, touch it. It’ll bring you luck…I SAID FUCKING TOUCH IT!)

Dear Idiot: Don’t Ask

God, I hate this. That damn person who asks your advice just to do the exact opposite. WTF. And they’ll ask over and over. I told you what I think. It’s obviously not what you want to hear. Why do you keep talking?

Idiot: Should I wear brown shoes or black?

Me: Black.

Idiot: Hm…I think I’ll wear the brown.

Idiot: Should I color my hair blue-black?

Me: No. You’ll look horrible. Like a middle-aged, goth Elvis.

Idiot: I’m going do it. I love Elvis.

Idiot: Do these jeans make me look fat?

Me: They do give you a certain manatee-esque quality.

Idiot: I’ll wear them with this tube top. I think I look sexy.

Me: For a manatee, maybe.

Don’t ask me for my opinion if you’re going to do whatever the hell you want anyway. It shows you have no respect for my opinion. Which is fine. You don’t have to respect my opinion. But then why the hell do you keep asking me? Just do what you want and leave me the hell out of it. And don’t you dare do something stupid and try to come back at me with, “Why didn’t you stop me from <insert personal disaster here>?!” I tried but you wouldn’t listen. Why didn’t I stop you? Because you’re an idiot, that’s why.ugly-guy-hot-wife

(He wants my ATM card and the keys to my car. I should totally give it to him, right?)

Dear Idiot: Fisherman

I don’t particularly care for fish. And by that, I mean I despise fish. I’m not interested in putting anything in my mouth that swims and eats and breathes in its own poop and sex water. Regardless, I have no problem with fisherman. You like fish and fishing, good on you. But that’s really not what this entry is about. It’s about people who fish for compliments. Yeah, those people! And especially the ones who do it by insulting themselves first. And it’s up to you to correct them and reassure them they are amazing. Knock it off, you asshole. Now, I’ll admit that sometimes I’ll make a joke about my weight or age. But first, it’s cute when I do it. And second, I’m not looking for a compliment. I’m just trying to be funny. It’s like when you have some impossibly fit and sexy friend who moans about being fat, you just want to stab her in the forehead.thin_girl

(I’m huge. I just can’t seem to get back to my birth weight, no matter how hard I try!)

This also goes for smart people whining, “I mean, learning Greek, Latin, Russian, Japanese, Chinese and Hebrew were a breeze but I am just too dumb to pick up the subtle regional accents of this ancient Aramaic. I’m such a loser.” Yes, you are. But not for the reasons you think. And the guy who says, “The only work I can get is as Channing Tatum’s lookalike stand in. Curse these chiseled features and taut physique.” Shut up, you walking air and space museum. I know you just want me to tell you how smart or thin or good looking you are. But I’m not going to do that. I can’t afford to feed your ego and my crippling shoe addiction at the same time. Get over it. Appreciate and accept the gifts God gave you. And stop bothering me.

Dear Idiot: Lonely for a Reason

Ok, this goes for both men and women, so guys don’t get all mad because I talk from a woman’s point of view. This is about the idiots from both sexes. I hear from people and see on Facebook all the time that guys “just want a nice girl.” That is a lie. A big, fucking, vicious, dark and terrible lie. You don’t want a nice girl. If you did, you’d have someone. There are nice girls everywhere. But the truth is, you want a hot, young, rich, sexy, model girl who, for some reason, finds middle-aged desk jockeys attractive. This is not something you obviously advertise but there is some small part of your heart and brain and penis that thinks there honestly is some vague possibility this could happen for you. So you don’t give “regular” ladies a chance. Because surely there is some 19 year old Victoria’s Secret angel just waiting to spend her time with you listening to you talk about how much better music was when you were growing up in the 80’s and what kind of wallpaper your grandma likes in her bathroom. Then she wants nothing more than to get some sweet, hot monkey love from you all night long because you are just a machine, baby. And you know what? It’s fine to have that thought. Go for it. It’s not going to happen. Ever. But much luck to you just the same. I would be happy to meet a nice and funny guy. I’m ok with that. Is there a part of me that would prefer to get down with Lou Diamond Phillips circa “Young Guns, II”? Of course! ldp

(Chavez y Chav-…awwww, dayum!)

But I don’t go around complaining I can’t find anybody. I’m sure I could find someone. If I tried. Which I don’t. But that’s another story. So for the love of God, stop acting like all you really want is “a nice girl/guy”. Because nice girls are just that. Nice. And usually funny and smart with a nice smile and may have a few extra pounds around the middle and some gray hairs at the temples or slightly uneven boobs or a weird little mole somewhere. And all this goes for you too, ladies! But if that’s not ok with you, fine. Just stop your bitching about not being able to find someone. There are lots of someones. Apparently, just not for you.

So that’s it for today. Thanks for tuning in. I hope you enjoyed this entry of what’s pissing me off. By the way, if you take a shot of your favorite liquor for each time I tell someone to shut up and/or stop talking in this article, you’re probably feeling pretty good about now.


As Seen on TV


I’m addicted to “As Seen on TV” stuff. I mean, I don’t buy it. Well, a couple of things. But I love watching the commercials and trying to understand what kind of mind it takes to invent this stuff. I know that the world is full of idiots and these inventors not only know it but exploit it dramatically to make mad money by convincing said idiots that they cannot live without vital products like a small blender called “The Magic Bullet”, a frying pan that won’t leave a carbon footprint called “The Ogreenic Pan” or a giant cupcake mold called “Big Top Cupcake”. And how in God’s name did we dare call ourselves civilized before we had a blanket with sleeves called a “Snuggie”?! This could be an immensely long post and I know we would all love to listen to me wax poetic on many products but I’m easily distracted and there’s a “Chopped” marathon on Food Network tonight, so let’s just start with a few of my favorites.basket

(Your dessert basket ingredients are arugula, gummi bears, vegimite and goat legs. Start cooking…)


Ok, I actually bought these. I like eggs and usually have egg whites for breakfast. I thought this would be a fun, easy way to make eggs and have them ready several days in advance. Aw, hells no! First of all, each Eggie comes in 4 pieces. There’s the top, bottom, ring and plug. None of the pieces thread together properly because the damn thing is made out of some sort of melted Barbie doll plastic. You better make damn sure you get it put together tight though or your egg leaks out into the water and floats around like some sort of marine afterbirth. You then have to grease, with oil or Pam, each Eggie. You have to pour the egg in the top of the Eggie which has a hole the about the size of a dime. Yeah, go ahead and practice with a shampoo bottle. Let’s see how much egg makes it in the bottle and how much all over your hands and counter. Then after they cook, which takes longer than a regular egg due to the thick plastic of the Eggie, your eggs come out misshapen and tasting of oil. These things were a God awful waste of time and eggs as well as some of my best swear words.eggs

(The most important membrane leavins of the day.)


Q-tip conspiracy theorists, rejoice. Apparently, we have been lied to our entire lives from parents to grandparents to teachers to doctors. Warning: Q-tips are NOT to be used in your ears. Ever. Apparently, you can actually deafen yourself. If you’re lucky. More likely, you will puncture your brain and you will either die or become so mentally disabled you will enjoy watching the Kardashians (I so fucking hate them) which is actually a fate worse than the previously mentioned death. Instead, you need to ram a battery powered hand vacuum into your head and suck out whatever ear sludge may be hanging out in there. I’ve never seen one in real life but I hope it has suck settings like “Dustbuster”, “Vampire” and “Compton Ho”. That would be cool. Regardless, you know the dude who invented this is rolling in the green, laughing at all the losers who would rather pay $19.99 for a WaxVac that either won’t suck or will take the skin right off your ear rather than pay $1.99 for 4,000 Q-tips. Side note: To avoid brain poking, just don’t jam the cotton swab so far inside. It’s really just that easy.waxvac

(Khloe still am the koolest.)

Gray Away

You’re late for a party or a business meeting and suddenly realize you’re channeling Bea Arthur instead of Angelina Jolie. What to do?! Well, the quickest way to fix that problem is spray paint your head! Yes, Gray Away can save the day. It will make you look younger and fresher and…damn. Even I’m not a good enough actress to sell this crap. Despite the fact I color my hair religiously, the gray comes peeking through within a couple of weeks. But this shit will not come off with brushing, rubbing or sweat. I feel so dumb. And, according to the ad, it comes in “shades to match every hair color”.gray away

(Whether it be brown or dark brown!)

I wonder if the Gray Away people realize they are asking the same customers who are so inept at personal grooming that they cannot be trusted with Q-tips to spray hair color that won’t come off around their hairlines and not get any paint on their faces, hands, counters, loved ones or pets. Just saying.

Perfect (insert food name here)

As the Neanderthals with indoor plumbing we really are, it has become obvious that we can barely feed ourselves. Therefore, we are in desperate need of products to help us make the perfect meat loaf, perfect tortilla bowl and yes, even the perfect brownie. Now, you can buy the Perfect Tortilla Bowl and, with the tortillas themselves (sold separately), spend about $15. Or, at WalMart, you can buy some already made taco salad shells, 6 for $3.99. Yeah, I know. Math is hard. As for your meat loaf, which by design is an entree that screams for perfect presentation, and your brownies and so forth, let me offer you another solution. It will cook almost all your meals from casseroles to cakes, bread to meat loaf and yes, even those hard to manage brownies. I’m totally going to sell the shit out of this. It’s called…pan

(A pan. Yeah…just use a damn pan.)

Tag Away

This stuff is scary. Some people have skin tags. It’s not really a big deal. Some people have moles. Some have freckles. Some have weird little bumps on their wrist their sister insists is a rotting tumor. (Shut up, Melanie. It so isn’t.) These are all part of the little things that make us the special, happy, unique unicorns that we are. But if your skin tag bothers you, for the love of God, GO TO A DOCTOR. Do not medicate yourself with what I’m assuming is a mixture of Compound W, Old Spice and Guatemalan acid! Yeah, it might eat your skin tag but it might just eat a hole in you and you know you’re going to want to stick your WaxVac in it and that’s just going to make it worse. And what if your little nubbin happens to fall off into your boss’s coffee as your setting it before him as he prepares to give you your annual performance evaluation? Then where will you be? Please, leave removing pieces of your person to the professionals.kitten

(I don’t want to look at picture of dried, dead skin chunks, so here’s a kitten instead.)

Lazy Ass

There’s not really a product called “Lazy Ass”. It would be cool, though. But there are a ton of items for people who are just damn lazy. Forever Comfy is a seat cushion. If your chair is hard or you ass hurts, just get a damn pillow. I’m sure there are several in your home to choose from. There’s a product called Easy Feet, which is a shower sandal with little brushes in it to wash your feet. Seriously?! Do not be too lazy to bend down and wash your own feet. If you don’t like bending over or standing on one foot is hard for you or you’re just too drunk to do so (like me), then sit your ass down in the shower and wash them. It’s not like everybody’s watching you. Also, you don’t need an automatic soap/lotion/toothpaste dispenser. Mankind has survived millions of years and I honestly don’t think anyone has ever died because they had to squeeze/pump their own toiletries.toothpaste

(Won’t someone please think of the children?!)

On the Other Hand

I do have to say though, there are a couple of products I have bought that are really awesome. Heeltastic is this foot balm that makes the gnarliest of feet super soft and smelling like foot and cough drops. Also, the Robostir really is helpful to stir stuff so you can step away to work on another dish or, if needed, to go pee. I love my Spin Pin. It’s a little corkscrew shaped hair pin. One pin will hold up my entire white girl afro. It’s truly amazing. And the Bump It made my Peggy Bundy Halloween costume a first prize winner. So at the end of the day, I guess they’re not all bad.

But for the safety of you and your family, don’t forget…qtip

(Death Sticks)

What I Think Guys Think


This actually could be a very short blog entry. What are men thinking? Nothing. That about covers it. Thanks for stopping by!

But that’s mean. Men are more complicated than that. Well, some of them are. Just not a lot of them or for a long period of time. Now before some of you sensitive types get your feathers all ruffled, let me say I know some men have thoughts and feelings. But from my experiences, observations and experiments, the vast majority of them don’t. We all know I write for comedic effect, so don’t get all butt hurt because I called your manly ass out. You’re a dude. Rub some dirt on it. Walk it off.

Now, I love men. And I have learned to accept them for what they are and we get along much better this way. The way I see it, guys’ brains revolve around four basic categories of thought (1) Eating, (2) Humping, (3) Free Time Between Eating and Humping and (4) Miscellaneous. Let’s get started on our short journey through the male psyche.


The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. It’s true. I used to make my ex-husband “yellow dinner”. It was his favorite. Yellow dinner consisted of shake-n-bake chicken tenders that were fried with honey mustard sauce on the side, buttered corn, macaroni and cheese and banana pudding for dessert.

(With a coronary infarction for a bedtime snack)

Anything breaded, fried, buttered and/or covered in cheese was all he needed. And to have all of that on one plate? Yes, ma’am! But it didn’t really matter what it was, if he could eat it, he was happy. If you’re not a culinary whiz like myself and yellow dinner seems out of your skill set, don’t worry. If you put it on a plate, or a bowl, or even hand it to him in a bag, he will love you for it. Guys do not eat for health or socializing like women do. I’ve seen men who were so intent on snacking while watching tv, they didn’t even realize I dropped some loose change in the chips bowl and they ate my parking meter money without even noticing. So don’t ask a man what he wants to eat. Because when he says “I don’t care”, he really means it. Whatever you pick will be fine. If you want steak, get steak. He will eat what you put in front of him. (And yes, beer does count as food.)


This is such a basic thing for guys. Their inner cave man tells them all the time, “You must spread your seed and continue this obviously under populated species. The world needs more of YOU! Do it for everyone! Do it with everyone! Do it now!” Ladies, don’t take it personally. It’s just how Mother Nature made them. (On a bet with Father Time over what he could do to us.) You think they only want super models and stuff. That is a mistake. I’ll tell you a secret an ex-boyfriend told me once. All men check out all women in one fashion or another, even if for just a split second. From ages 16-86, a small corner of their brain looks her over and wonders, “hmmm, if I was only 40 years older or she was 30 years younger…” And they want to be wanted back. So they look. But looking isn’t doing. And knowing this, women need to stop worrying over how they look. Especially in the sack. No more inhibitions and self-image issues. If you are kind enough to give a man some naked time, he is grateful. He is happy. He is thrilled! He is not checking out that zit on your chin, your sweat stank or the little roll of back fat you’re trying so hard to conceal. He’s not noticing a lot more than, “Hey! Look at me go!” He’s finally getting some and you are the amazing angel who is giving it to him. Don’t read any more into it than that. Because he’s not.

(Thank you Lord for these boobs I am about to receive.)

Free Time Between Eating and Humping

Men have to find something to do to fill up the time between eating and humping. Or thinking about humping (which is about as far as some of them get). Some of that time is filled with work. But I think men only work so they can get money to buy food, beer and pornography so as to fill their two main objectives in life. The rest of the time is filled with their hobby. Some guys like sports. They get to yell and be competitive and live and laugh and fight and love! A modern day in the life of their club-wielding, prehistoric brethren. They indulge in many snacks and get to watch cheerleaders jumping in the game and models during commercials selling said snacks. Bringing us back toooooo…eating and humping.

(Isn’t the circle of life beautiful?)

Some guys don’t like sports though. They like stuff like video games and Star Wars. Same basic principal though. They yell, compete, fight, bond, etc. But instead of in a sports game, it’s in space. Or an enchanted forest of some sort. And their chicks have fairy wings or three boobies. You getting the picture? And other guys like home improvement stuff. Sawing, building, mowing, installing, fixing cars. They drink lots of beer because hey, you can’t get a good perspective on roof repairs from the top of a ladder without a good buzz. And if you fix stuff, it will look nice. And if it looks nice, women will like it. And if women like it, they might like you. And if a woman likes you, you have a much better chance of touching her goodies without getting arrested.

(But I got the toilet to stop making that sound that scares her cat, dammit!)


This is where guys put the rest of their thoughts. Thoughts about calling his mom or why you’re crying or if he really could karate chop through 5 wooden planks.

(Jackie Chan’s got nothing on this stud muffin.)

Most of the thoughts in this area are fleeting and don’t really take root in the man’s brain. They are jellyfish thoughts. They float around and if he grabs them, they will sting him and then he will have to pee on his own brain. Don’t ask me to explain the logic. I’m just a girl. There are many thoughts in here but they don’t tend to hang around long. Where’s the remote? Should I pet the dog? Why is that random kid who looks like me blocking the tv? Did I just eat a dime out of the chip bowl?

So, lovely ladies of the world, now you know. Don’t ever ask a man, “What are you thinking?” Because if he says (a) eating and/or (b) humping, you’ll get mad and won’t fix dinner and won’t let him sleep with you. And if he says he’s thinking about mowing the lawn on Planet Three Boob with Kobe (which is what he really is thinking about), you won’t believe him and you’ll keep asking until he says a random thought like “Your sister’s hot” or “I have to poop now.” which will just get you madder. So when a woman asks, “What are you thinking about?” It’s easier for them just to say, “Nothing.”

Happy Valentine’s Day!