Tuesday, July 17, 2012

Sour Gripes: Cupcakes

I don't like cupcakes. That's right...I don't like them. I've said it. 
Okay...maybe it's not cupcakes themselves but this whole cupcake trend is ridiculous (cooking shows, cupcake-only bakeries, cupcake wedding cakes, etc.).

If there was a cupcake and a slice of cake - same flavor/frosting - I would hands-down go for the slice of cake. This isn't to say I would turn down a cupcake if it was the only option, but given the choice...cake all the way! 
My feelings are strictly from a practical standpoint. Cupcakes are so damn difficult to eat. They are...don't deny it. Do you lick the frosting off first? Maybe remove the wrapper and go to town on it? If you just bite right in, you run the risk of smearing frosting all over yourself: face, hands...it can get pretty ugly. DON'T even get me started on people who use a fork to eat a cupcake. CUPCAKES DO NOT WORK THAT WAY! Have I eaten a cupcake with a fork: yes. Am I so ashamed that I seriously considered omitting this fact but then worried someone would call me out on it, forcing me to go back and own up to it while looking like a complete hypocrite who must now subject herself to even more ridicule from the masses: YES!

People have gone to great lengths to win me to the cupcake side. Sooooo many people have told me that I just need to have a technique: simply separate the stump from the cap, invert the stump and place it ON TOP of the frosted cap, making a nice little cupcake sandwich.

... ... ...
That seems like A LOT of work for one little cupcake. I'm sure if that's how you're suppose to eat them, that's how they would be sold! Do I even need to mention
the increased risk of dropping said cupcake while mutilating it?

Are cupcakes cute? YES! Are they the perfect sweet treat? NO!

That's it. That's my cupcake rant.

Thursday, June 21, 2012

Chartreuse and Puce

I wish the colors "chartreuse" and "puce" would switch names.

That is all.

Tuesday, April 10, 2012

Dear Humanity....A Lesson in Public Etiquette

I work in a college.
is it that, every time I go to the restroom, I must face toilets that have not been flushed for what appears to be weeks?
1. If that's the state you're leaving them in, you should probably see a doctor.
2. This is COLLEGE, people! You really can't flush your mess away? REALLY?!

Wednesday, March 28, 2012

Dear Humanity....

"A lot" is two words.


Tuesday, March 6, 2012

Planning a Wedding

This may be a surprise to some of our readers (I write that as though there's a mighty T.A.S.K. army sitting on the edge of their seats, waiting for a new post every month), but I will be getting married in a couple of months. The marriage will take place in a Catholic church. Because of this, my fiance (ugh...I hate that word...let's just use Beloved. No lie: that's how we were referred to this weekend, "How does beloved feel about this?") and I had to attend a marriage preparation retreat: The Pre-Cana. It consists of a four hour seminar Saturday night, followed by seven hours on Sunday.
Below is an account of this retreat; events do not occur in real time.

In the days/months leading up to the Pre-Cana, I knew it was going to be ridiculous. Not only is it expected that couples make a donation to the church they will be married in, but I have to pay $120 for this mandatory retreat?! Wasn't the Catholic Church one of the richest organizations in the world? Does it really need to charge for this? What happened to all that money? OH! ... ...

Day 1
So Beloved and I arrived Saturday night and went right over to the check-in table. Being the one who signed us up - and the Catholic - I gave my name first. I was ignored. The woman running the table just stared at Beloved until he gave his name. She then turned to me and said,
"I'm not ignoring you. We just have the men listed in the first column here."
Really...it's that difficult for you to shift your eyes a few inches and look up my name? I gave her the look of death until she checked off our names. Which took much longer than it should have: she was LITERALLY looking at our names and said we weren't listed. Bitch, NO! Continuing my look of death I pointed at our names, to no avail. Apparently, I don't know my beloved's name...? That's when the look of death transformed into the voice of death:
"Here! We're right HERE!"
"Isn't that something. Your name is spelled differently from this man's but you pronounce it the same way!"
No, we don't. Those are two completely different names. Perhaps cross-checking against the female's name would have been of use. But what do I know...I'm just a girl.

After that belittling joyful experience, we went to pick up our information folders. I was downright shocked when I was told the official registration form was in my folder! (Why sir, I do believe you are trying to flatter me. Why else would you trust little old me with such an important document? Don't fret, now. I'll hand this off right away to my fiance. He'll be able to take good care of it in his strong, manly hands. I am just simply one helpless damsel without him.) So I gave Beloved the form and insisted, being the man (i.e. more important of the sexes), he needed to take care of the form, to which he mumbled something about it going to be a long weekend.

Boy was he right!

A few minutes later, the priest and presenting married couples entered the room. As important as they think this retreat is, someone should have told Young Wife she could skip the opening remarks so she could finish breast feeding - NOPE! I looked up and saw Young Wife coming down the stairs breast feeding her baby. Huh! Not what I was expecting to see...not at all! (Plus, is it really that safe to be breastfeeding AND walking down stairs?)

The rest of the evening actually wasn't too bad. There would be a presentation, then we divided up to answer some worksheets. After about ten minutes, we searched each other out to discuss our answers. I'll admit, it was pretty nice to have this time set aside to talk without any distractions...except the AA meeting at the end of the hall. The retreat center doesn't have that much space so most of us had to huddle on the hallway floors. I may have mild to moderate OCD, but I'll accept sitting on the floor. However, discussing personal relationship issues with the person you're preparing to spend your life with, surrounded by other couples within earshot, while listening to alcoholic Rob ("Hi, Rob!") discuss his own inner demons...the moment just didn't seem right. Needless to say, Beloved and I weren't taking anything too seriously. So when the "Feelings" presentation began and we were asked to turn to our partner and tell him or her one feeling you're currently feeling, it should be no surprise our answers were:
"I'm kinda sleepy."
"I'm pretty gassy. Why did we stop at Burger King before this? That was a bad idea."

Sleepy and gassy; that pretty much sums up day one.

Day 2
The retreat center was oh so kind enough to provide us with breakfast for the morning: bagels and breads...breakfast foods. I do like me some bagels, but I found it a bit odd that some of the bagels already had cream cheese on them. In one sense, it was a great time saver. I mean, who really wants to be the one to take 50 tiny cream cheese packets, so you have just enough (only to go back up for a few more because you still underestimated how much of a monster you truly are). But on the other hand, it really grosses me out to think a bunch of elderly volunteers were rounded up for this task...with their liver spot covered hands fondling those bagels, coughing their wet, phlegm-y coughs all over them. Then again, it would give the elderly something productive to do, instead of trying to lure unsuspecting parishioners back to their gingerbread houses for Sunday dinner (now that's a story for another time).

So Sunday began with Young Couple telling us that, though it may be very hard, in light of everything we've been learning about our beloved, it might be best to postpone or even cancel the wedding. Excuse me?! I waited 6 years, 9 months, and 10 days for this proposal. The amount of money I've already paid to vendors could have been a nice down payment on a house. Did I hear you correctly? You actually want me to reconsider this wedding? Bitch, NO! It will be a bitter, cold day in hell before the thought of even possibly considering postponing this wedding enters my mind. So cold that, when compared to Star Wars' snow planet of Hoth, Hoth will seem like a sweltering, tropical paradise rich with lush, green vegetation. Since you tried to plant this seed of doubt in Beloved's mind, you ma'am, have moved up on my list! (That's right...you made the cut with the breastfeeding incident from yesterday.)

Then it was on to the Finance presentation. This is when we were regaled by the Postmenopausal Era Couple about the time a money issue lead to a wonderful night of love-making. I don't know the connection between the two. All I know is they were discussing the family's finances and Postmenopausal Era Wife was very concerned. To calm her, Postmenopausal Era Husband stroked her neck...then they made love, "it didn't solve the issue, but it brought [them] together."
I don't know about you, but does anyone else think that Postmenopausal Era Husband was tired of listening to his wife and just wanted to distract her from the issue at hand?

Then is was lunch time. I think they purposely plan lunch right after the finances to keep people there:
Beloved: "So, do you want to stay here for the lunch that's provided or grab something down the street?"
Me: "I don't know. Are we allowed out?"
Beloved: "I'm pretty sure we can leave."
Me: "Yeah...but...if we have lunch here, we could save money...money we can use on wine after this."
So we stayed. We initially were only going to see what they were serving, but it was tough to get out once you entered the dinning hall: several round tables were set up with food - four couples to a table! I'm pretty sure they were keeping tabs on who stayed.
So yeah...we all had to play the "WOW! I'm probably never going to see you again so I really don't care what you have to say but I'm sooooooooo interested in how you met/when your wedding is/where you're going for the honeymoon. PLEASE, continue and tell me more!" Unfortunately for you dear reader,
Postmenopausal Era Couple didn't sit at our table; nor did Young Couple. I'm sure I missed a wonderful tutorial in breast feeding from Young Wife - ah well!

Guess what the topic was right after lunch...GUESS!
Enter couple number three: NFP Couple (Natural Family Planning, or 'Nother Fetus Please). This is the couple that found everything to be funny...except...contraception:

NFP Wife: "Then we had another little blessing. That's seven in total!" *painfully obvious fake laugh* (but you know it's not fake so you try to pity her but you just can't because of that vainglorious undertone) "Now, some women choose to take those hormone pills. Did you know that most of those pills will allow for fertilization but won't let the fetus attach to the uterine wall...which is an abortion! That's right. Those are abortion pills and we all know what to think about those!" *Again, the fake laugh but this time incredibly inappropriate*
I don't know but I'm pretty sure there's some passage in the Bible about not judging others, lest ye be judged. There's no doubt everyone is harshly judging her so I guess she's in the right. Surely this verbal stoning must be over...

70 Year Old Priest: "The secular world says that living together before marriage is fine. What do you think about this: studies have shown that most couples who lived together before marriage end up divorcing. It's true. They have done studies and that's what they say."
First, Beloved and I can't un-live all those years we've lived together in the past. Second, how do you feel about studies that show homosexuality is not a choice?

(On a side note, I didn't need to know that Young Baby was an NFP baby. I also didn't need to know that Young Couple attended an NFP seminar conducted by NFP Couple in order to learn how to conceive Young Baby. I'm already haunted by the thought of NFP Couple meticulously planning sex...no need to add more into the mix.)

The day ended with a mass and distribution of
completion certificates (for real), but not until we had to write love letters to our beloved. When Postmenopausal Era Husband said it was his wife's love letters that helped him through the Navy, all I could think of were the love letters of James Joyce. (If you haven't read these...umm...read at your own risk...'nough said.)

So yeah...that's the
Pre-Cana in a nutshell.

Monday, January 23, 2012

Childhood Memories: Full House

Does anyone remember the episode of Full House where Uncle Jesse's song "Forever"made it to number one...in JAPAN! This is NOT to be confused with the one where the family got "stranded" on a "random" island in Hawaii and ended up on stage with the Beach Boys (oops...spoilers...sorry). I have asked countless people and not one knows what I'm talking about. (Okay...I've asked two people, but still...that's two too many!)

The other day I had a huge craving for honey-roasted peanuts. Despite my suspicions about having a mild nut allergy, I bought a small bag which lead me to think about the aforementioned Full House episode. Here's what happened:
Jesse's song "Forever" went to number one in Japan and the record label decided to fly him and his family over for a little tour. Jesse, Becky, their twins (Nicky and Alex - yeah...I even know the middle names of D.J., Stephanie, and Michelle: Margaret, Judith, Elizabeth), and Jesse's Japanese servant had to fight their way through a mob of screaming fans to get to the dressing room. Jesse sends his servant out into the crowd countless times because he keeps changing his mind about what type of nuts he feels like for a snack. He finally settles on the type he had on the plane ride over...Honey-Roasted! Right before he sends his servant (I think his name was Koji or something) out into the crowd again, Becky gives Jesse a look of utter disgust and, in an accusing tone, says "Jess?!" This is when Jesse, innocently asks "What?" Becky backs down.
LATER in the episode, Becky explodes at Jesse because he's not spending enough time with her and the twins, NOR has he written to little Michelle.

MY POINT...Becky is being a douche nozzle*! I mean this is Jesse's DREAM to be a rock star. He's clearly not going to obtain that status in the U.S. (In later seasons, The Rippers eventually kick him out of the band and when Jesse starts a new one he names it...wait for it...Hot Daddy and the Monkey Puppets. Yeah...nail in the coffin.) Why can't Becky just let him live his dream for a brief few weeks? Sure, he needs to stay grounded but he has work to do! He can't really tell the record company, which is paying for this trip, that he would rather go on a tour of Mount Fuji with his family. Shouldn't Becky be glad the company is letting her and the twins come along?

Becky pulled the same stunt when they went to Disney World, too. Again, Jesse was there to WORK with his band and she got all bitchy because he didn't meet her for a picnic. Really? The whole reason you're there is because of your husband's work. You're really going to bitch about it? Not to mention you're staying at the Grand Floridian...the GRAND FLORIDIAN! Perhaps if Jesse got to tour in Nebraska, Becky would feel differently.

*A special thanks to my friend Suzanne for the term "douche nozzle".

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Persons of Interest: Theatre Kids

Those of you fortunate enough to have received my short-lived email newsletter Life Sucks, Get a Helmet will recognize the following post. I think it deserves a place in T.A.S.K.'s literary canon, but you be the judge.
So, there's this unwritten law that Theatre Kids and Literature Kids hate each other (surely you jest, as you live with one...jest I do not. We accept it and continue our cohabitation...most of the time). This is a strange phenomenon as both are pretty similar. Hear me out: both are artistic; both have an appreciation of art in its various forms; and both regard outsiders with scorn and malice (don't deny it...just think about how many copies of The Da Vinci Code have sold...exactly. Theatre Kids, well, they just look down on everyone...theatre related, or not - monsters).
Now when these two fractions are subjected to each others' company an interesting dynamic is created. Throw some gamers into the mix and it makes for an interesting, blog-worthy evening...

It was Halloween night and I found myself in the basement of a comic book shop, surrounded by guilds questing for dominance over some other worldly realm and Theatre Kids (there's a difference? Slightly, yes). The Theatre Kids were performing a dramatic reading of the radio broadcast of The War of the Worlds. Apparently a lot of companies do this on Halloween and it really is a nifty idea: studio microphones are set up; objects for sound effects are placed on a table; actors wear period clothing. Everything is set up as though you are in the radio studio watching the broadcast live.
Because I refused to venture into a comic book shop alone, I arrived a little early with my soon-to-be Theatre Husband (yeah, I can't believe it either...I'm going to marry a theatre kid) and read on a couch while everyone else set up. So far it wasn't too bad. Then the woman next to me chimes in:
Woman: What's going on here? What are they setting up for?
Me: This theatre compnay is going to have a performance. It's a dramatic reading of The War of the Worlds. (What a pitch for them, huh?)
Woman: Ah...*with a look of: what strange peopleMe: Oh, what's that? Your son is at a gaming event in the BASEMENT of a comic book shop; on Halloween night, no less. He's not hanging out with friends or trick-or-treating? Yeah, he'll be well adjusted when he grows up. Probably end up doing a lot of theatre. Not to mention this is something straight out of Law and Order: SVU.

That aside, the performance was pretty good...except, every now and then a spell cast on an elf by a goblin would carry over into our space. Poor venue choice.
Whatever. They did it and it was good. Hooray! Then it was off to the costume party, hosted by Theatre Kids. (Blast! The rest of the evening I'll be on their territory. Oh well...)
(By the way, I did a couples costume: he was Robin Hood and I was Maid Marian - only I dressed like a hotel maid with a Marian name tag. Clever, no?)

The party wasn't bad. It went like all other cast parties I'm dragged me to: I stick to my theatre kid like glue, we find a nice place to sit, then he leaves me to go grab a smoke EVEN THOUGH we discussed weeks earlier I HATE it when he leaves me alone at these things.

So there I am, sitting on a couch...alone. Then some guy sits down next to me:
Guy: Hey.
Me: Hello.
Guy: I've never seen you before. How are you connected with the company?
Me: Likewise. Umm...my boyfriend was in the show tonight and he's been in a few other shows with them.
Guy: AH! What's your name?
Me: Shannon.
Guy: I hate your name!
Guy: No! Not you...that was my ex-girlfriend's name.
Me: What the hell's your name?
Guy: Jeff.
Me: With a "G" or "J"?
Guy: "J".
Me: Oh! The stupid, loser way to spell it.
Stupid Loser Jeff: Yeah
That's when Stupid Loser Jeff got up and went into the other room.

Why would you ever say something like that to someone you just met? I mean, I'm pretty socially awkward but come on! "I hate your name"? Yeah, I hate YOU, Stupid Loser Jeff. I later found out that Stupid Loser Jeff is a jerk.

This is what happens when Theatre Kids and Lit. Kids mingle. This will eventually lead to a full blown rumble. Only with this rumble, there will be no blades or heaters. The Theatre Kids will "saw the air too much" with their hands and tire out. That's when us Lit. Kids make our move: a swift sweep across their faces with our trusty, yet hefty, Norton Anthology. You've been Nortonized!

Monday, May 16, 2011

Signs of the Apocalypse: E-Readers

If anyone has one of these atrocities, please enlighten me. How awesome is your world now that you can carry around a libraries worth of books anywhere your go? That is, of course, if you remember to charge it.

What if you forget to charge your precious electronic? Are people really okay with letting an electronic determine when they are allowed to read? It brought me so much joy when I saw a young, hip, business woman on the train realize her e-reader wasn't charged. She went to turn it on...*annoyed huff*. She flicked the switch again...*more annoyed huff* "Seriously?" She tried again..."Seriously? Seriously!? Seriously." She gave a final huff and gave up (life is so hard and unfair, right?).

The great thing about books is you can access them at anytime. Books don't determine when it's time to read...the reader does! This is the Achilles heel of e-readers. What do you do when you're on an airplane and you need to turn off all electronic devices? Strike up a conversation with the person next to you? Hmm...that could be fun. Maybe your little air buddy will warn you about the dangers of gypsies in Europe ("You know a trick gypsies have is they throw their baby at you so you'll drop your stuff in order to save the baby, but it's a trick. While you're focusing on saving the baby, they actually rob you...and there's no baby! Just a bundle of clothes"). Or maybe it's your little air buddy's first time flying and, since you're not busy, he can ask you what every little noise and button is. Maybe you two can even quiz each other on the information in the safety pamphlet. That would be fun, huh?

With the popularity of e-readers on the rise, is society saying reading is only a hobby for the elite? Bookstores are already struggling to compete with e-readers. If this continues, books could become obsolete. Think about it, how often do you see someone using a Walkman? And when was the last time someone made you a mix tape? Just as mp3 players dominate the music landscape, e-readers could become the preferred way of reading. Books are useful to everyone. E-readers are only useful to people who have a power source and a computer. How will people in less developed parts of the world access knowledge and earn an education without books? Education is for everyone, not just those who can afford the latest technological craze.
(Besides, what will society do with all the books that are left behind after e-readers rise to power? Burn them? We all know we else use to burn books...just putting it out there.)

E-readers remove the reader from the whole reading experience. You're holding an electronic. A book lets you feel the actual work. The weight of every word is in your hands and you have a true sense of how much work the author put into that piece. Let's cherish books for what they are: a physical representation of another human's literary passion and hard work.

In closing, please enjoy the following:

Friday, April 8, 2011

Comment: Ew. Just Ew

I wish Kristin's post was an April Fool's joke...but it's not. Those things are real. I will admit that I gagged quite a bit when I read, "outties that are like three inches long and show through every shirt and sweater". EWWW! It's like a turkey timer: POP! Baby's done! (And don't get me started on a newborn who still has some umbilical cord attached and parents just need to wait a few days - or weeks, I really don't know - for it to fall off!)

Maybe belly button rings are a way to tide teens over until they can get a tattoo? Janie's totally gonna get a sweet tat on her lower back as soon as she's 18 (why are her parents so lame and making her wait soooooo long? Don't they know she's not little Janie anymore. In fact, she's Jane and needs to show this by having a butterfly, fluttering freely through the air, forever imprinted on her lower back? Like, so lame.). The belly button ring is probably a compromise between parent and child. Until she gets that Tramp Stamp on her own, Janie might as well adorn her belly with some bling? Even if her parents signed off a tattoo, would they really want their daughter to get one on her belly? It's like they know she's bound to get knocked up. What if she needs a C-section? That totally original butterfly flying freely along a rainbow, leaving a trail of flowers will get cut up...bummer. The only logical thing to do is pierce that belly!

Why do these...things exist? Isn't flaunting your body all over the place what got you into this situation in the first place? Why would you want to keep it (not to mention if your new outie doesn't go back to an innie)? Do you really want to draw attention to a long, saggy belly button (*dry heave*). Imagine if THAT got caught on some clothes (*continued dry heave*).

In regards to the teen pregnancy shows: yes, I watch them. I'm amazed that teen pregnancy is still an issue in this day and age. On more than one episode the knocked up teen's friend asks, "How did it happen?" What? Really? You're really asking that question? America needs to improve its math skills: that disclaimer about contraception being 99% safe - someone's got to be that 1% and it looks like it's your friend! At least this show has taught me why teen pregnancy is still an issue.

Overall, body piercings just baffle me; however I am a fan of the industrial ear piercing, but only if it's a barbell that looks like a spear. It's like the person had some amazing Gulliver style adventure. Maybe the spear that's lodged in his ear is a proud battle wound (You escaped the Lilliputians? How cool is that?).
Ears are one thing, though. I don't mind looking them. But who, in all honesty, likes looking at belly buttons? It really doesn't need any added attention. Ew...just ew.

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Crimes Against Humanity: An Old Word With A New Meaning...Maybe

A few weeks ago I had the following conversation at work:

ME: I don’t think that's ready yet.
CO-WORKER: Oh ok. Just ping me whenever it is.
ME [to myself]: Excuse me, you want me to WHAT you?!
ME [actually out loud, eyes glazed over with confusion]: Sure…?

Now of course I’m not a complete imbecile, and so within the context of this conversation I assumed that my co-worker wanted me to “let her know” whenever the item in question was ready. But this isn’t the only time I’ve heard this new word, and I’d just like to make it clear that I’ve had enough!

First of all, what exactly does “ping” mean? Every time someone threatens to says they’re going to ping me, I walk away wondering if they’ll use a phone, computer, bike messenger, telegraph, or telepathy to get in touch. Is this something that’s stemmed from instant messaging, because of the sound it makes when you receive a message? Maybe, but we don’t have instant messaging capabilities at my job, so I think it must mean other forms of communication as well. I definitely don’t get the nuances of this word.

So I’ve started asking around, to people I really trust and don’t mind looking like a fool in front of, what exactly does this new word “ping” mean?  And the answers that I’ve received have been disappointing.

They usually begin with a straight forward answer that always starts with the word “Oh.” As in, Oh, let me tell you something I can’t BELIEVE you don’t know yet! What kind of rock have you been living under that you don’t know what “ping” means? You ready to be enlightened? Ok.

It’s after the word “Oh” that the answers begin to deviate from each other. I’ve heard:
   A. “Oh, it means email.”
   B. “Oh, it means call”
   C. “Oh, it means IM”
   D. “Oh, it means follow up”
   E. And my favorite “Oh, I have no idea. I’ve been wondering about that too.”

So then I usually follow up with:
   A. But why not just say email?
   B. But why not just say call?
   C. But why not just say message?
   D. But why not just say follow up?
   E. Oh thank god I’m not the only one. Ok I think it’s stupid and I’m not using it.

And the response I get is:  
A. Oh I think it means in real time, like at the exact moment it’s done, instead of just sometime in the future.
B. Yeah I’m not sure. I don’t really get it; I just say it and hope I’m saying it right.
C. Yeah I’m not sure. I don’t really get it; I just say it and hope I’m saying it right.
D. Yeah I’m not sure. I don’t really get it; I just say it and hope I’m saying it right.
E. [shamfully] Oh, I’ve used it. I just say it and hope I’m saying it right.

To answers B through E I say: For shame!! That is terrible. You can’t just say things because other people say them and hope you’re using it in the right context. Yes, I realize this is how any human being actually starts talking in the first place when they’re a baby, but beyond that it really starts to piss me off! That’s no better than wearing a piece of clothing not because it has attracted your eye and you think it’s awesome, but because it’s what all the cool kids are wearing.

To answer A I say: I’m impressed at how long you are willing to drag out this whole thing of you supplying me with an answer that you are really kind of making up on the spot.

I’m beginning to wonder if anyone actually gets the nuances of using this word in this context. And I propose that until someone can let me know EXACTLY what ping means and how it should be used, we should all just go back to saying normal, real words.

Friday, April 1, 2011

Ew. Just Ew

Let me ask you something. What’s the purpose of a belly button ring? Think hard, and come up with the most truthful answer you possibly can – something more real than simply, “they’re cute.” If you think so, I still ask: Why there? Why the belly button? Some possible answers might be:

a) It draws attention to how tiny and flat a stomach is
b) It’s an accessory for the pool-side bikini season
c) It provides a challenge for thrill seekers who enjoy the challenge of getting through the day without getting it caught on any clothing and thus painfully ripping it through several layers of flesh, or
d) It draws attention to how tiny and flat a stomach is

If you’ve thought of any other purposes for a belly button ring, please be sure to educate me in the comments section below. However, I defy you to think of a purpose that would justify the use of the following product.

If you’re thinking that there’s something a little off about the belly button rings pictures above, you’re right. They’re absurdly long. Now I’ll give you all a moment to go take some Dramamine in an attempt to help you deal with the nausea that is about to overwhelm you, as I tell you what these special little rings are for……………

That’s right, you guessed it (or I bet you didn’t, because why would anyone ever think of this?): These are belly button rings for the ladies who currently have no vacancy in their wombs. Knocked up and ready to pop, you can now rest assured you will still be able to accompany your favorite pair of low rise booty shorts and tube top with the perfect accessory!!

These are creepy. My first problem with these is that pregnant belly buttons are weird. I’m continually perplexed by the fact that belly buttons that were once perfectly innocent, normal innies suddenly pop to outties that are like three inches long and show through every shirt and sweater. It’s like no belly button is really safe, except for a man’s of course. Just another cross the female sex has to bear, I suppose.

And secondly I must conclude that these are being marketed for the ever-popular teen moms, since the greatest population of belly button ringers are typically within the 13-17 range.

Those girls are so cool. You know the ones I’m talking about. How could you not? I don’t even have a TV and I know who they are because they’re on every rag mag in the grocery store check-out line – the same magazines that slap Angelina Jolie and Jessica Simpson on the cover every two weeks. The whole country has rewarded them for their actions by first putting them on TV and generating mass faux-sympathy for them and then making them as popular and famous as the movie stars they admire.

So now we’ve got accessories exclusively designed for these cool girls that will keep them in the height of style while they are indisposed with producing progeny. Don’t worry girls, you can still go to your junior high pool party without looking like an unadorned-stomach loser! You may make people gag with your newly acquired, unsightly outie that has sparkle dangling from it, but you go right ahead.

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Girl Scout Cookies

That's right. This post does not have a category. The scorn and malice that boils within me places this topic above classification.

Just what is the allure of these cookies? They don't even taste good (unless you consider waxy chocolate to be delicious). I will gladly buy a box of elf-made Keebler Grasshoppers over Thin Mints ANYDAY.

I really hate when troops decide to set up shop outside of stores or inside subway stations, right in front of the turnstiles. What genius thought that spot was a good idea? Doesn't anyone notice the intense bottle neck it creates (It's okay. It's not like I have a bus to catch NOW. Take your time buying these overpriced, over packaged, waxy cookies)? The only bright side to this tactic is that some girls are actually there (no doubt because their mothers are the troop leaders). It's a lot better than parents who simply leave the order sheet in the break room at the office, fully expecting their co-workers to contribute to their daughters Top Seller T-shirt. NO! If you want to be top seller and get that T-shirt, you better get off your ass and give me one damn good sales pitch...not your mom...not your dad...YOU! This is precisely why I will never order Girl Scout Cookies at work, even if the girl scout goes from office to office, pleading for a sale (I'm sorry little girl, but not every little girl has a parent in a high ranking management position, who thinks it's part of her job description to guilt and pressure her employees once a year into buying cookies from you. It's simply unfair and I cannot support an organization that allows such villainy.)

I also don't understand what selling cookies has to do with Girl Scouts. I always thought this organization taught girls about leadership, values, and self-esteem. Let's take a quick look at values and self-esteem:

In selling cookies, doesn't that perpetuate an idea that woman should stay home and make cookies all day, at least on some subconscious level? (Personally, I would love this. I also belonged to a troop that decided it was an awesome idea to earn the "Looking Your Best" badge. Yeah, you read that correctly: Looking Your Best. Here's a picture of it:


That would be a mirror, a comb, and a brush you're looking at. No lie. This is an actual girls scout badge...and I earned it. We were actually working towards this goal as a united troop! YEAH! I don't know how we found time between all the mini-bagel, peanut butter, birdseed bird feeders we made...but we did).

I realize the girls no longer bake the cookies (I would have so much more respect for them if they did. A cookie made without love is like a cookie with raisins in it *spit*). But what message is being sent? Does anyone ever think about Girls Scouts unless it has to do with cookies? It seems as though society is saying, "You're only important because of the cookies you sell. If you didn't have any cookies, I would have no reason to support you." Honestly, does anyone donate to them outside of cookie season? I highly doubt there would be as much support if troops held organization sanctioned bra burnings (Buy a bra and throw it into the bonfire! Every bra is one step closer to camp!).

Strangers will like you if you stand on the street and sell them some sugar? Wasn't this on Law and Order: SVU last week? I'm not sure this is what Juliette Gordon Low had in mind when she founded this organization, but I could be wrong.
(Not to mention the damage to your self-esteem when the same girl in your troop is always the top seller and gets that special Top Cookie Seller T-shirt EVERY YEAR even though her mom just brought the order sheet to work and your parents refused to do that for you. Awful!)

In conclusion, it's not the organization itself I have a problem with. It thinks it teaches girls great strength...fine (and steroids help athletes fine great strength...whatever). My problem is with these damn cookies. I don't even want to call them cookies. Instead, they should be called machine-spawned, adulterated biscuits.