Thursday, August 27, 2009

Male Validation

So I've finally caved. I've joined the ranks of reality show junkies.

My drug of choice?



I love that train wreck. I've managed to avoid Survivor, Big Brother, The Bachelor, etc., but give me fat girls with emotional baggage and I'm all over that shit like white on rice.

What absolutely makes this show for me has to be the non-repentant need for male validation and approval. All of these girls are so desperate for positive male attention that at the first smile from Luke they're instantly in love, crying, and proclaiming on camera to millions of people that their self-esteem has never been so high.

Really, this is what us fat girls are bringing to the table in relationships, co-dependence, inferiority complexes and complex carbohydrates (did anyone see those waffles on the last episode, damn they looked delicious and I don't even like breakfast)?

The young one, Mel Something Or Other, was the one I was rooting for. She was the most tragic mess. I really felt for her and wanted her to do well. Except for the fact that "doing well" in this competition meant winning the affection of the most herpes infested, dirt bag, male chauvinist pig I've seen on acceptable and politically correct TV. When she left she assured us that she grew in experience and self-esteem and that this was not the end, she would get her happy ending.

Girlfriend better settle for paying a male erotic masseur if she's thinking a man is going to solve all her problems. At least that way she can be guaranteed an orgasm and a back rub.

Then there's the "I love you" girl, (Kirsten, Kristian, I don't know, but I'm pretty sure it starts with a K) this chick was bug-nuts. There aren't any words for how obsessive, stalkerish, and desperate this woman was. She scared me, a lot. Now she's gone too.

So what's left to look forward too you ask? Well the three thinnest girls and the biggest hoe. Shocker.

All I can think when I see the King of the Douche Bags kiss another girl is, "No God NO! HERPES HERPES HERPES, protect yo' self! Get some dental dams or something. Do not kiss that man, Lord knows where his tongue has been in the last 30 minutes, down at least three or four girls throats, and I saw the way that he looked at that horse on his romantic date with the big hoe.

You can't fool me Luke, you can't fool me.



So Luke and some cute, blond chubby girl are on a date. He comments on the view and she agrees that it's beautiful. Then he says, "I was talking about about you." The cute blond looks like a deer in the headlights. How in the world can she be so pleased and shocked by the most overused, pointless, gag-inducing phrase man has ever uttered? If anyone EVER said that to me and was serious about it I'd be sick. Literally, I'd try to hold it in, but I make no promises. The only way to react to something that ridiculous and snark worthy is to puke right in the guys face.

Then on this very same date Luke talks to cute blond chubby girl about family and kids. She figures she will work and not stay home with them. He condescendingly asks her how she thinks the child care arrangements will work out with both of them working. Uh, hello asshole, if a woman wants to work, let her and child care is not just her problem it's your's too you chauvinist wanker. Please DIAF.

Cute blond chubby girl goes home too.

I hate this dude.

Monday, August 24, 2009

I met Abe Lincoln . . .

and my camera died before I could get a picture with him.

I'm obsessed with Abe, I love him. No seriously, it's a sickness. I'm crazy about him. I read books about him, watch any movies, tv shows, or YouTube videos that so much as mention him.

I think he's the hottest thing ever. I want his babies. If only he weren't dead. I'm sure he would have chosen me over that royal bitch he married.

In college there was a very tall boy that I had a few Communications classes with and he looked enough like Abra-hankin' Lankin' for me to develop a severe and embarrassing crush. I would talk about him to my roommate constantly, how dreamy he was, how I'd stare at the back of his head during Mass Media classes, anxiously await our public speaking days to hear his voice.

I didn't care about him as person. I had absolutely no interest in getting to know him. I just liked to stare. It's really a good thing too, 'cause he was terminally stupid.

I am 110% positive that my real Abe was the smartest, most amazing man in the entire world. Oh Abe, how I wish my camera would have held on for just a few more minutes. All I got was this picture of my soul mate playing Bago:



*drool*

Saturday, August 15, 2009

Puppy Pictures - As Requested

Here's Coleman:








He's cute and everything, but Katie is much cuter:



Okay, so it's Kate as a baby, she's still super cute even as an adult dog and I can't be arsed to search around my computer files to find a grown up version.

Thursday, August 6, 2009

The Dog

I had to leave my dog (Katie) at the farm last weekend because I'm going to be so busy over the next few weeks. I did, however, take another dog back home with me. His name is Coleman and he's a terrier mix. He's a truly adorable dog, very friendly and sweet.

He's driving me bat-shit insane. He cannot be alone, ever, I mean EVER. If I leave the room he barks, when I put him outside he barks, if I crate him he barks, if no one is paying attention to him he barks. The only time I get any peace at all is when he's running around my house like a loon and jumping on my furniture or sniffing my cats.

I'm at my wits end here. I don't deal well with barky dogs, and by that I mean I don't deal at all. There is nothing in this world that grates on my nerves more than barking. In comparison, nails on a chalkboard are a welcome relief.

Now, my Katie is no angel, she does bark and she's excessively hyper, but she listen's to me and knows when she needs to be quiet and when it's acceptable to get a little rowdy. I've raised her and she knows her limits. Okay, so maybe she doesn't always know her limits and my sisters basically hate her and curse at me every time I bring her to the farm.

But she's mine and I love her. She doesn't listen to anyone except me and she gets so excited when someone new comes around that you think she might rip your face right off from the excitement of it all. I swear she's a good dog though (okay I admit that I'm biased, but she's better than Coleman!!).

Coleman has no limits and it's such a small, yappy little thing. I'm not a small, yappy type dog girl. I never have been. Katie the beagle mix is as small a dog as I'll ever get.

Coleman is a terrier, the worst kind of yappy dog (in my opinion).

I suppose I should get to the actual story behind him. My mother and sisters "found" Coleman while they were camping. Someone dumped him and drove off. They don't understand how someone could do that with an obviously well-cared for pet (after living alone with Coleman for 3 days not only do I understand, I empathize).

Someone that I work with is interested in adopting him. I'm meeting up with her tonight and she'll take him for the weekend to see if he gets along with her current dog.

So even if you aren't religious I'm begging you to pray with me. Please let this woman fall head over heals for this small, yappy, irritating as hell dog. Because if I have to take him back on Sunday I'm pretty sure I'll commit puppy-murder by Monday night.

I was trying to do a good deed, getting this dog off the farm for my parents and finding him a good home, instead I'm just punishing myself.

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

I just wanted my oil changed . . .

I was getting my oil changed last night after work and was talking to the manager. Every time I come in he has something off-topic and inappropriate to talk to me about.

Last time he talked about famous people he found attractive and wanted to sex up. Then asked me the same question, males and females. Me being me, I of course immediately spouted off about my lust/love for Angelina Jolie and Scarlet Johansson. Then he got graphic and started talking about his fantasies, luckily my phone rang and I was able to end the conversation.

This time he talked to me about how he left work early the day before so that he could go to the nearest bar and drink. How he's pretty sure he's an alcoholic because of it and that he just doesn't care. He continued to enumerate on the virtues of drinking until you pass out in the middle of the day and can't remember anything.

I have no problem with either of these topics when discussed with friends, but the random ass guy that I'm trusting to change the oil in my car? Not so much.

What about me says, feel free to tell me inappropriate and off topic information about your personal life?

It happens all the time. I'm just trying to be polite in the supermarket line, say Good morning, how are you? and then have to listen as some random girl tells me about the boy she had sex with last night and how tired she is today because of it.

I readily admit to being the Queen of TMI, in fact, it's a running joke with most of my friends. However I try to control myself enough to to NOT talk about it with the man trying to repair my cable.

Monday, August 3, 2009

The End of an Era?

I went to a wedding over the weekend and it was just wonderful. As a general rule I'm not a fan of other people's weddings. I usually find them boring and pointless. The only exception to this rule is close family.

With close family I have no problem acting like a moron out on the dance floor, am usually very familiar with the venue because I've spent the entire day setting up, I've got tons of people I can talk to, and I can get the bride and groom whatever gift I want because I'm family god-damn it and I don't have to look at their registry if I don't want to.

This one was good, besides all of the aforementioned perks my cousin's band played and my cousin-in-laws father was the DJ. I also learned the Cupid Shuffle, got alcohol spit on me on the dance floor, colored a Strawberry Shortcake picture, kept the fondue table going, and had some of my aunts famous pickles (they were delicious as usual).

I got some other amazing wedding news yesterday. A very close, very good friend of mine from college is getting married on Friday. It's very small, very quiet, and at the courthouse. She doesn't want any presents, any cards, or any hoopla. She's honestly the last girl I expected to get married, just because she's always said that she wouldn't.

I'm glad that she's getting married the way that she is. I figured she and her SO would marry at some point and if they did I figured it would be very small and quiet. I also have to admit that I wondered from time to time if they weren't married already and just not telling anyone. It just makes sense from a financial and health coverage perspective.

So yay for them as well! There are weddings everywhere. That means only 1 college girlfriend, 3 high school girlfriends, and no family members (for the next few years at least), left unmarried.

They're closing ranks people. Fight the power! Or give in . . . you know, whichever you prefer.