Stupidest Election Signs of 2010

Election season is upon us which means... an opportunity to engage as civicly minded and responsible citizens! Just kidding. It means every street corner, intersection, and bare bit of land in this damn state is once again covered with god awful election signs.

Election Signs [ih-lek-shuh n sahynz] noun: A notice of a candidates existence, affixed in public view, displaying pictures and short cliche phrases completely devoid of substance and unrelated to any current issue within the political sphere.

Well, as they say, when life gives you lemons points out how stupid those lemons are and then make fun of them relentlessly until the lemons voluntarily shrive up and cease to exist or you feel better about living in a world with said lemons. So without further ado...

THE STUPIDEST ELECTION SIGNS IN PHOENIX
(2010 edition)

Let's start by throwing (pun intended) some mad props to candidate David Fitzgerald. David Fitzgerald's sign features a picture of a football and the slogan "David Fitzgerald won't drop the ball!" Hey Fitzgerald, that's a fantastic election sign but it left me a little confused, are you running for a government position or for fucking homecoming king? What the fuck do I, an informed and concerned voter, care what sport you play and how proficiently you play it? I know, I know, it's a metaphor... a metaphor for "The best days of my life were in high school and now I have to resort to running for office to prove to myself that I'm still popular." Then there's the little edition slapped on the sign "endorsed by Sheriff Joe Arpaio". You might as well have just written "Fitzgerald: The Next Best Thing to Hitler!"

Well Fitzgerald, your macho bullshit self probably wouldn't have liked me much in high school, and your probably not going to like me now because I'm the only one with the balls to point out how fucking stupid your sign is.

P.S. If I wanted some jockstrap in office I would have voted for Bush, douchebag.

And now on to everyone's favorite governor Jan Brewer. Brewer has signs plastered all over the city of herself as Rosie the riveter. Let's review, Rosie the riveter is a cultural icon from WWII, also known as the end of the great depression... so Brewer, are you trying to remind us that we're in a recession or that we've spent the last eight years losing our friends, brothers, husbands, and sons in a war overseas? Basically, are you trying to rub my nose in the fact that our country is a giant bully, or the fact that last month I had to eat ramen so many nights I sweat MSG because our economy is in worse shape then Lindsey Lohans liver? Hey Brewer, while you're at it why don't you go ahead and remind me that my pet bunny is dead, that I'm covered in stretch marks, or that my math skills are below average. Bitch.

Finally, I want to give a shout out to my homie Justin Johnson, a senate hopeful who has flooded our fair city with giant pictures of him holding his baby up in the air in a quintessential made for TV movie freeze frame ending. (Cue credits.) I'm not even going to rag on Justin for how horribly cheesy these are... I'm sure he's gotten the message from whoever has been running around at night painting his babies face like a juggalo on all the signs.

Well Justin, I guess that's what you get when you whore your child out for votes, consider this a learning experience.

The Other Woman In My Marriage

(Note: This is a guest post from a friend of mine who lived by us when we lived further north in the city. I decided it was time to hear from a smart ass other then myself... and I thought it was pretty funny.)


I hate the other woman in my marriage. I would imagine that most marriages have another woman in them whether the wife realizes it or not. Some husbands have little rendezvous every now and then, some have a standing weekly reservation at the local sleezy hotel motel, and some see them every day, multiple times a day, almost every moment that they're not at work, and sometimes when they are... this is the kind I have. Some are named work, some are political involvement, "hanging out with the guys", some are true flesh and blood women (real women are probably the worst kind of other woman to have)... in my marriage I have to deal with a whore named World of Warcraft and all her little whore video game friends.

World of Warcraft has things I will never have... she has fancy animation, quests, swords (I suppose I could get a sword but I don't know if that would help anything), she doesn't get all flabby and stretchy marky after having my husbands baby. She can stay up all night long entertaining him and never once mumble "Seriously though, stop touching me, I need to sleep."

Basically she's that slutty bitch in high school who stole your boyfriend because she would do dirty things in bed while your 15 year old self was still trying to master doing it missionary without making any weird noises. World of Warcraft is the harlot who sticks her finger up his ass while she's giving him a blowjob... NOW HOW THE HELL AM I SUPPOSE TO COMPETE WITH THAT?!?!

Like so many wives who have to contend with "the other woman" I had fooled myself into thinking "It's not that I'm not enough, there's just something really special about her. If she wasn't around he would only be with me." but like so many other delusional women I was wrong. The skank known as World of Warcraft (I refused to use her nickname, WoW, because that makes her sound exciting, which I maintain she is in fact not) has been on vacation for a few weeks but instead of spending more time with me (or doing anything else at all) like I thought he would, my husband has just been running around after other nameless, faceless, whores. The worst was a particularly filthy hoe named Call Of Duty who in addition to stealing my husband got all up in my face, lay down on the couch, and made my entire house an unbearable place to be. (Call of Duty involves hours upon hours of shooting sound effects. Seriously, if I wanted to hear gun shots all day and all night I would move to Bosnia... or at least south Phoenix.)

Since there is no sign of this torrid love affair ever ending, I have come to the conclusion that we should either become Mormon and invite her to officially join our marriage as a second wife, or I need to find an "other man" of my own. Maybe his name will be shoe shopping... or maybe I'll date 'fun wine bar' who lives down the street. Whoever he is, I need to find him quick because I'm getting really lonely.

Convict an anodyne with passion

All. Politics. Ever.

I hate politics. They're stupid, they just exist to give people something to fight with each other about, and everyone involved in them is most worthy of my hate.

Everyone fights about politicians like there's a good guy and a bad guy. Wake up! This isn't Star Wars, there is no dark side and light side to political parties, everyone on both sides is a ginormous tool. "Oh but Jenna!" I can hear people saying "You don't understand! (insert politician here) has it right. They're so much better than (insert other politician)... they were completely incompetent!" Really? You think the fact that someone is slightly less of a douche bag than someone else is brag worthy? Being the best politician is like being the least creepy person at a porn convention or having the highest reading level in your special ed class... not impressive. Being a little less corrupt or killing a few less people than some other loser doesn't make you a worthwhile leader.

I don't even have to know the opinions of a politician to know they suck. The only thing I have to know is that they hold a major political office because no one with the public's best interests at heart could ever get elected in this country.

The thing that really gets me though is how everyone gets so loyal to their particular party of choice that they completely ignore what's really going on. Being in the pocket of wall street is a perfect example, Democrats will rant and rave about how Republicans are only concerned about the financial assets of the top 1% and Bush only helped his fat cat friends, but completely ignore the fact that Obama bailed big business out just a few short months ago, and Republicans will bitch and moan for days on end about that bail out while conveniently forgetting that Bush passed the first one.

Politics are just an excuse for people to feel superior to one another about having opinions on issues that don't effect them. Are you trying to decide whether or not to terminate a pregnancy? Than your views on abortion (and possibly those of your close, trusted friends) matter. Are you attracted to someone with strikingly similar genitalia to your own? Congratulations, your opinions about gay marriage matter. To everyone else, stop thinking you're better than (insert other person here) because you have what you consider more highly evolved beliefs about (insert irrelevant but controversial topic here).

The reason I hate politics the most though is that it's more addictive than crack. You (and by you I mean I) get sucked into a political tornado (a politinado) and can never escape. Instead you (I) just swirl around in a vortex of frustration, indignation, and family dinners gone horribly wrong when somebody brought up the wrong topic of conversation, working your schedule around so you can attend political rallies, marches, and demonstrations for causes you know are only going to get shut down by the "moral" majority who never bothered to get informed in the first place. And in the end you're just another nobody ranting about how much you hate politics on your blog that nobody reads.

Fuck it. Let's all get high.

Breast Feeding Fanatics

As most of you know I just had an adorable little girl. Ever since I pooped this little monster out of by baby hole I've discovered a thousand more stupid things that I hate but have been refraining from writing about them all in the interest of this not becoming the bitchy mom blog. My silence, however, ends here.

I never realized how much our culture demonizes women who choose to formula feed their children until I had one of my own. I'm going to try and tell the back story without any of the gory details, I don't want to have to deal with the guilt of having scared one of you sterile. (If you want to know you can ask me, but seriously, it will make you terrified of ever going to the hospital again.) Long story short, after her birth because of some complete incompetence on behalf of some medical "professionals" I ended up with a bad infection that because of some more medical incompetence didn't get caught or treated for more then a month. Because of complications from said infections I was not able to breast feed. It was sad, but I got over it... at least I would have gotten over it if nosy middle aged women didn't continue to rub it in my face all the f-ing time.

When did it become any ones business anyway? 'What are you doing with your boobs these days' has become the part of the standard line of new baby questions, everyone who sees her "Ohh! She's so cute! (standard question #1) How old is she? (standard question #2) Is she a good sleeper? (standard question #3) Are you breast feeding?" This isn't women I know either, this is random women in the grocery store, this is women from church that I recognise but don't actually know the names of. When I tell them that no, I'm not breast feeding, they either purse their lips and give me this disappointed look that seems to say 'Well I'm sorry you don't love your child enough to give them the best.' or they stare in horror and me and exclaim "Why!"

None of your damn business, that's why! There isn't a way to answer that question even if I wanted to because the only thing more awkward then being asked by a near stranger what's happening with your boobs is having to answer with a story about what's going on with your vagina and it's healing process. And you know what, plenty of children have grown up just fine on formula... I myself was never breast fed and it's pretty insulting when these women start quoting studies to me on how child who don't have mothers who care enough to breast feed them end up lazy brained. Unless I'm shaking them in your husband's face, what I choose to do with my titties is none of your concern! And the most frustrating of all is that I really wanted to breast feed and I have a good explanation for why I'm not, but I shouldn't have to explain it to anyone!

Dear world, yes I am bottle feeding my child, and no, that doesn't make me a bad mother. You can shove your pretentious breast feeding judgements up your ass.

Facebook Parents

My rant today is twofold. There are two kinds of parents on facebook (this could also apply to any other social networking site but since facebook is the only one I use that is the only one I will rant about. Non sequitur side note: myspace sucks) the first of which is the parents of the people for whom facebook was intended (ex: facebook was intended for my generation, thus, my parents fall into this category) and the second is the people for whom facebook was intended who have now procreated (ex: an old friend of mine from high school who shall remain nameless, for the sake of this rant we will refer to her and all similar people as "Parent X".

Let's start with my dear friend Parent X and all of her social networking counterparts. These are the people for whom parenthood has taken over their entire lives... or at least it would appear that way from looking at them on facebook. The people who don't have their own profile picture but instead have a picture of their kid there, which is especially handy when I can't remember for sure where I know this person from and then instead of being able to look at their picture and say "Oh yeah! It's whats-her-nuts from that-one-place!" I have to actually go to their profile page and then embark on a grand and epic quest to search through all their pictures trying to find one that is of them. And it really is a grand and epic quest since Parent X only ever seems to have 19thousand albums of just pictures of their kids, each album containing 14 almost identical pictures that they took in a three minute picture taking spree and then decided every single one needed to be imparted to the rest of the world. A picture may be worth a thousand words (or in this case a thousand pictures may be worth my wrath) but sometimes a few words really can say just as much. This is the case with Parent X's status updates, all of which are about what their kid is doing at this exact moment in time, with subsequent updates on said offspring's activities continuing multiple times a day, every single day. Does anything happen in their own lives anymore? At what point did they stop being an individual themselves and instead become just a conduit through which their children's exploits could be displayed? Really, I'm asking, I want to know, feel free to enlighten me if you have any explanations.

Then there are the second kind of facebook parents... the old people on facebook. But not all old people on facebook, no no, my anger here is reserved for the ones who are going to actually act like parents while they are on facebook. Anyone who at any point in your life could have been considered an authority figure and now continues in that roll by checking up on you on facebook. These are the people who see pictures of you taking shots of jager at a bar/making out with another girl at a party/going to a concert in revealing clothing/flipping off the camera and then leave you messages (or worse yet, corner you at church the next Sunday) and tell you that you need to not be so wild and that your actions are inappropriate. Out of sheer hatred I'm not even going to mention the people who see these things and then call your parents to tell them about your behavior, those people all need to get gonorrhea and fall off a cliff.

And so to conclude, I have written out the four commandments of facebook. If the ancient Israelites had internet access I'm confident God would have added these to those infamous stone tablets.

1. Thou Shalt Have Thine Own Profile Picture. When your little monsters are old enough to have their own facebook account then they can have a profile picture featuring only themselves... until then yours need to be of you or at the vary least of you with your child.

2. Thou Shalt Pick The Best Picture Of Thy Child, and Add Only That To The Album. Yes, we get it, your child sitting on the couch is just SOOO adorable, and the best way to get that perfect picture is to take shot after shot after shot. But that is only step one, step two is then going through all those nearly identical pictures of your spawn on the couch and picking the best one or two and only posting those. Trust me, nobody cares about the rest of them except you.

3. Thou Shalt Make Thy Status About Thyself. When your child does something that really effected your day or that other people will care about (hint: you are not a good judge of what other people care about, otherwise we wouldn't be having this conversation), you can put that as your status. The fact that your child has been throwing up non-stop all day and it's making you want to drink - you may post this because it is about you as well. The fact that your child took their first steps - you may post this because it's a big deal and other people care. But nobody gives a shit that your kid is eating a cookie, or coloring a picture, or making funny noises. Repeat: NOBODY GIVES A SHIT.

4. Thou Shalt Be Prepared For The Content Of Facebook Or Thou Shalt Get The Fuck Off It. Call me old school, but I remember fondly the good old days when you had to be in college to get a facebook account and I am not going to start censoring myself just because some middle aged republican extended family member of mine is on here now. I drink, I occasionally give people the middle finger, and I am amused by making juvenile gestures pretending that the Sing Star microphone is a penis... and I will post those pictures. Also, I will swear in my status when I deem it necessary. If you have a problem with that I am not going to worry my pretty little head about it, parents shouldn't be on facebook unless they are ready to deal with what they find.

Food With 9,000 Ingredients

I will admit that I am 'that guy'. You know the person... the one standing in the middle of the aisle at the grocery store for 10 minutes comparing the labels on five different brands of apple sauce before finally being able to settle on one. I am an avid label reader... obsessive even, if there is more then one brand of something that I need I have no choice, I am stuck in that aisle until the quandary of which to choose has been un-quandrarified.

Organic, not organic, low sodium, low fat, all natural, it's all well and good but usually my decision comes down to one factor, which label I can pronounce and understand everything on. If the ingredients in (insert food product here) are roughly the same as they would have been if I had made it myself at home then my guilt over being a bad Mennonite and not actually making it myself is eased. But even stronger then my Mennonite guilt (and us Mennonites have a fantastic amount of guilt... that's right Jews, you're not the only ones who know how to work it) is my fear of the unknown, and in this case the unknown is 18 letter words that I couldn't pronounce if my life depended on it. I like to fancy myself highly literate and if I don't know what these words mean I feel like it can safely be assumed that the vast majority of the American population doesn't either.

So where do all these ingredients come from? What do they mean? What the hell are they? These are questions that I do not have answers for, but I can tell you from the vast amounts of time I have spent taking up space in that grocery store aisle reading those labels that they are in EVERYTHING. And some things I feel like are more justifiable then others, any frozen dinner for example... you're full of bad things and that's old news. Sorry DiGiorno, I know you thought writing "made with real cheese" on the box would make people mistake you for health food but you aren't fooling anyone. And then there are other things that I feel like have no right to have crazy ingredients in, Juice for example. You are juice, juice is not even a product it's an ingredient in and of itself so if you say you are juice then you should contain one thing... and that is juice. You may also, in my humble opinion, also contain water and maybe an added vitamin or two but that is about it. When four out of the top five ingredients on your label (hint: you shouldn't have five ingredients on your label at all) are just different ways to say sugar then calling yourself juice makes you a big fat liar.

To clarify, I am not a crazy food person obsessed with healthy stuff and terrified of preservatives, I've had mac and cheese made with Velveeta for lunch almost every day for the past week and the number of Totinos pizzas that get consumed at my house can only be described as inappropriate... I just am confused by everything having a list of ingredients as long as my arm, I don't understand it, it weirds me out, and I feel like they're taking over the world... or at least the grocery store.

Paying for Parking at a Hospital

First off is there anything more infuriating in this world then having to pay for parking? The idea that I have to give someone money so that I have the right to turn off my car and stand outside of it makes me want to go on a killing spree, but seriously people... at a hospital?!?!

Who decided this was a good business move? I have this mental image of all these old rich white guys in their over priced suits sitting in the hospital corporate office brainstorming about how to squeeze just a few more dollars out of those stupid sick people and their loved ones and someone came up with the idea of charging people for parking. "I saw a little girl come in here with her mother this morning to say goodbye to her dying father... what if we made her give us $4 for every two hours she spent in here with him? I bet they would be so preoccupied with things like 'how are we ever going to go on without him?' and 'how are we going to pay the rent?' that they would cough up those $4 without a fight at all!" "Here here! Jolly oh!" shout the rest of the old men as their raise their little glasses of of cognac in a cheer. (I'm not sure why but all the executives are British and have handlebar moustaches in this fantasy... if anyone has an explanation for that I'd love to hear it.)

Really, I just want them to be forced to grow the balls to say it to my face. "Yes Jenna, we know that you're in active labor... oh, you need to see a doctor right now? That's such a coincidence because we need that $4... You were too busy grabbing your suitcase and calling your mother after your water broke to think to stop by the ATM for some cash? Excuses, excuses... I'm sorry but you can park down the street and walk... yes, we share your concern about the baby falling out while you're in the middle of the crosswalk, that's a concern we will all have to deal with."

It costs enough to go to the hospital at all, and now they want to steal my vending machine money too? Dear hospital and you're fancy parking lot, feel free to lick my taint.

ppl who use txt spk

how lzy can u b? wat n the world can b so important tht u dnt have time 2 type 1 xtra fucking vowel n a wrd?

Ok, I went into this with the intention of typing this whole entry in text speak but realized very quickly I was not going to get through much more without getting so furious I'd throw my laptop out the window. But seriously... how lazy can you possibly be? Is it really that difficult or time consuming to type a vowel? Are you really so busy and important that the extra effort expended typing the E at the end of the word "be" in your facebook status is going to make you late for your next big meeting? No, you're just a lazy little shit. In fact, in honor of how lazy people who type that way are I'm going to rename it... it is no longer text speak (or txt spk), the new name for this language is Lazy Fuck (or lzy fck).

I will be the first to admit that I'm not a super highly motivated person, in fact in a lot of ways you could rightly call me kinda lazy, but it is a testament to how lazy of a society we live in when a three letter word like "you" becomes too much for us to handle. And I wish... oh how I wish!... it was just kids doing it, but no, people from all walks of life are killing their braincells communicating in Lazy Fuck instead of English. I used to nanny a little boy and whenever his mom would need to tell me something she would text me from work using Lazy Fuck. Seriously? This is probably the only "adult" communication I will get to participate in during my whole work day and I'm forced to waste it talking to what I can only assume is a 12 year old girl because I refuse to believe any self respecting 45 year old business women would type this way. I wish I was kidding when I said that communicating with the little boy required substantially less translation for me to understand then talking to her did. Congratulations... your two year old has a better grasp of the English language then you do apparently.

People will justify it "but it's just so much faster! Why would I want to waste time typing something long when I could just type something super short?" Because the rest of the world, and by that I mean those of us who are literate, can't understand a single thing you say. If you're bothering to type it at all I can only assume it's because you want people to read it, if not you're wasting time anyway so either way your logic is fatally flawed. Those of us who speak and type fluent English have to read something you wrote in Lazy Fuck ten times to figure out what it is you're trying to say... and most of us don't even bother because we know that typing in Lazy Fuck has made the odds that you're saying something worthwhile dwindle down to next to nothing and we don't want to waste our time. And if that weren't enough of a reason to use real words, you could just do it because you don't want to contribute to the stupidity rapidly overtaking our culture or just because you yourself don't want to come across as a moron who's only future prospects involve fast food, the adult film industry, and a trailer park.

In case there's anyone reading this who is accustomed to using Lazy Fuck and therefore having trouble understand anything I'm saying because the English portion of their brain has atrophied, I'll translate one last message. u r stupd, grow the fck up.

Christmas Body Product Assault

I like lotion as much as the next person (possible more so because I'm big fat giant pregnant and my stretch marks itch like a bitch so I have to use it 5 times a day to keep from scratching myself to death). I also like things that smell nice as much as the next person, and let's face it... bath products are a necessary part of life. My question is, when did these things become the only acceptable present for a female age 16-30?

Every year I celebrate this magical season by opening one sugary smelling gift after the other... all in different scents of course, so I can't even use multiple ones on the same day or I'll smell like a hobo who's been camping out behind the cosmetics counter at Dillard's for the past week. Or they come in a giant bath gift set with ten different scented articles, half of which I don't even know the use of. (Seriously, why do I need separate body wash and bubble bath? If you can't get an acceptable amount of bubbles from squirting some body wash under the tap when you're filling the tub then you are just being a greedy little bitch. Oh, and what the fuck is a bath salt?) I think it must be in the Bible somewhere and I've been missing it all these years... somewhere in the Christmas story there must be a verse "And thou shalt celebrate my birthday by assaulting one another with over-priced bottles of synethically scented pomegranate orange." (Gospel according to Bath and Body Works?)

My problem is not with the fact that I get these gifts but with the sheer quantity in which they come, they're like a slimy version of Lays potato chips... you can never have just one. This year I actually got not one, but two whole bath gift sets FROM THE SAME PERSON (I got plenty of other gifts in this category from other people too) and all I could think of was "Really? You don't think I have enough things to think about in my day without having to start it off by deciding between multiple brands of face wash?" (P.S. I am always going to use my own face wash... that is one bottle in the basket that will go straight in the trash.) Or I'll get the sampler lotion gift set that comes with six different full sized bottles of lotion... like I said, I love me some lotion but how would I ever use that much? The only person that gift is appropriate for is teenage boys, they are the only demographic that will ever go through lotion at that rate, though maybe for a different use then you intended.

What I don't understand though is why. Do 20 something women naturally smell bad and I didn't get the memo? Do we have abnormally dry and crusty skin and the world is trying to tell us? Or maybe it's just me... maybe I just smell bad and nobody up to this point in my life had been able to grow the balls to clue me in. If someone questions my hygiene I would really prefer they just tell me instead of sending these coded messages in snowflake covered decorative bags. At least then I wouldn't have to deal with this moral quandary of whether or not it's kosher to move something directly from a gift bag to a trash bag.

If Jesus had the abounding opportunities to smell like vanilla and lavender like I do he totally would have had a happy birthday.

Black Friday

My hatred is not for Black Friday in and of itself, but rather for people with strong feelings towards it. Actually that statement is also misleading because I myself have strong feelings about it... I DON'T CARE.

Let's assume for a second that I choose to spend my day off sleeping in. Oh no! I missed out on all these great deals! There is no way I can possibly go on living knowing that I didn't get 20% off the 3rd season of Quantum Leap on DVD! Who the hell cares?! Yeah, I know it's completely outrageous to believe that someone might find it more rewarding to stay curled up in a nice warm bed on a chilly morning snuggled up with someone they don't get to spend enough time with instead of standing in a line getting frost bite for a chance to throw elbows into an old ladies gut trying to beat her to that last half off cappuccino maker. And just for the record it is possible to choose to opt out of the madness because you want to, not everyone who makes that decision does so because they "just don't know how much fun it is".

Now once again let's assume that I really really did want that 3rd season of Quantum Leap on DVD and get up early to go get it for 20% off. Oh my goodness! I'm participating in a tradition that supports American consumerism! How can I possible sleep at night knowing that I'm such a pawn of capitalism?! Who the hell cares!? How many facebook status's did I see the Friday and Saturday after Thanksgiving with snide remarks about how sad it is that people chose to participate... how fucking condescending can you be? Woohoo! You spent one whole morning not buying things... do you want a gold star for your superior moral character? And for the record you're stupid if you don't realize how hilarious it is that you talk about "those people" who participate in this "capitalism debauchery" and then in the next sentence brag about the fantastic sale you found on the shoes you're wearing. I guess I didn't get the memo that sales are good except for one morning of the year when they're evil. Money in the system is money in the system... sorry to burst your bubble.

So seriously, go shopping or don't. I don't care. I'll go shopping or I won't. It's stupid for you to be concerned.

Twilight

A small list of things that are stupid about Twilight. (If you've never seen a movie or read a book of it this might not make any sense to you... I won't be offended if you stop reading right here.)

1. The ending of New Moon. For anyone who hasn't seen it I'm not going to spoil it for you... but really!?!? You can't end there! You just can't! I wanted to punch the person sitting next to me in the theater I was so pissed.

2. Sitting in a crowded theater full of tweens (which luckily doesn't happen to me very often at all). Someone needs to teach that age range how to be quiet during a freaking movie... I understand that 95% of your generation has been diagnosed with ADD but it's still not that hard to keep your trap shut for an hour and a half.

3. Team Jacob v. Team Edward fights. If you don't have anything better to argue about then then which species of fictitious monster has the most sex appeal then someone needs to introduce you to religion or politics.

4. Edward. Stop being such an emo pussy. Oh! You're so tormented! Your life is so tragic! No one could ever understand you! Either stop being so emo or just put on some skinny jeans and eye liner already and stop kidding yourself. You've been alive for 109 years which in my book is plenty of time to grow a pair so stop whining and nut up. And just for the record the whole "I have to hurt you to save you" thing is stupid and overdone so just stop it, Bella is a big girl and can make her own decisions you condescending a-hole.

Skinny Jeans

Skinny jeans don't make me nearly as angry as they just make me sad. I am sad because a huge wave of American youth are being tricked into unknowingly wearing the most unflattering cut of pants that anyone ever could have come up with. Left to their own devices these kids could have had the chance to find pants that made them look ok, or at least not awful, but instead the entire fashion industry has told them it's "cool" to not look your best.

Dear Entire Youth Culture,
I am here today to tell you the truth that may be hard to hear, but believe me when I say that I tell you this because I love you. NOBODY LOOKS GOOD IN SKINNY JEANS. Nobody. Really.
That abnormally skinny 1% of the population, you think you can pull them off because you're so teeny tiny but they still usually make you look stubby, no one wants to look stubby. Just because you CAN pull them off doesn't mean they're the best idea for you. The other 99% if you are just making yourselves look unnecessarily fat by wearing them... you're not fat, you're healthy... or maybe you are a little fat, I don't know, but you could give yourself a much more flattering figure by just choosing a style of pants that fits your body type.
At this age you have enough self conscious body image issues to work through without purposely adding to them; you have zits, your hair never looks the way you want it to, you're trying to deal with a completely new body shape that you're not used to, I get it, I was there myself not so long ago. Most of that stuff you will just have to work through, but I guarantee you that you will feel just a little bit better by just wearing clothes that don't make you look worse then you need to look.
On a more selfish note, the rest of us don't want to see all of that, it makes us cringe to see all your flab giggling for the world to see and your muffin top rolling over... and yes, even when you're not fat that's usually what it looks like. We don't cringe because you're ugly, we cringe because we understand that you will regret this fashion decision later and we wish we could spare you that. And trust me, you will regret it. Skinny jeans are your generations answer to the acid washed jeans and MC Hammer pants that came before you although you don't realize it. When people who grew up in the 80's look at their high school pictures and are horrified by the giant bangs and outrageously colored jewelry, that's what these jeans are going to be for you later, and don't get me wrong, everyone will look back at pictures of themselves from a decade or two ago and laugh but there are some choices that nobody should have to come to grips with and skinny jeans are one of them. Spare yourselves, you'll be glad you did.

Sincerely,

Your Fashion Conscience

And on that note...
Dear Fashion Industry,
Stop it. These kids believe what you tell them and you're just lying. Stop it. It's just mean.

Whore-tastic Halloween Costumes

It is a well known fact that for years Halloween has been used as a magical night when women who wish they could dress slutty everyday can actually do it (and women who do dress slutty everyday can run around damn near naked). But recently it seems like this has gone from an occasional occurrence to the rule. That is stupid and needs to stop.

First of all, let's all learn the difference between a costume that is sexy and costume that is slutty. Sexy costumes can be fun… slutty costumes just make you look like a shameless hussy. Wearing cat ears and a tail with heels and a slinky little black dress=sexy cat costume. Wearing cat ears and a tail with heels and a black lacy bra and thong=whore-tastic cat costume. (I'm not even making that one up. I saw that costume last year at a party.) Sometimes it's not even about the amount of skin shown as it is about simple vernacular. Wearing white booty shorts and a corset with angel wings and saying you're a Victoria Secret model=sexy. Wearing that same outfit and saying you're an angel=whore-tastic. You're not an angel, you're a slut... saying otherwise is just lying to yourself.

Also, I must add (it's sad that I even have to say it but apparently I do), there is an age at which the slutty costumes are just no longer appropriate... at all... end of story. If you have children or are at an age when people are surprised and/or concerned that you haven't yet had children, then you are too old to wear slutty costumes. At the previously mentioned party last year I met a women only a few years younger then my mother who was wearing a skank-tastic devil outfit. Not appropriate. The situation went further downhill when she started laughing about how her 17 year old daughter told her she was mortified that her mother would wear that. Definitely not appropriate. I don't care how rockin' your body still is... grow the f up.

If you’re sitting there wondering whether or not your Halloween costume is whore-tastic, I have created this simple quiz.

1. Has your costume for Halloween ever doubled as your costume for amateur night at the strip club?
2. Is the costume that you wear made out of less fabric then the costume that your neighbors toddler wears?
3. Does wearing your costume require shaving or otherwise trimming your pubic hair first?
4. Does your costume bring to mind any of the following terms: harlot, prostitute, street walker, or shameless hussy?

Scoring your Quiz: If you answered yes to any of these questions you look like a whore.

My favorite part of this trend is that then these girls in their booty shorts and skankalicious tiny tops get mad when guys treat them like they're cheap... well listen up honey, don't automatically assume he was trying to act in a degrading manner, he might legitimately be confusing you with a hooker. I thought you were one, is it fair to expect this drunk fratbag to be that much smarter? And don't act offended when nobody can look you in the eye, if you bend over we're all seeing a view of you that is traditionally reserved for your gynecologist so stop pretending you want to be known for your sparkling personality.

Parents v. Baby Einstein

Recently the Campaign For Commercial Free Childhood filed a complain with the FCC against Baby Einstein for "false advertising" and engaged in other legal shenanigans with them over this. My astonishment is not with any of this, but on the hoards of angry parents that have risen up demanding refunds from the Baby Einstein Company in shocked horror that *gasp* it turns out Baby Einstein wasn't really making geniuses out of their children. Parenting On Shine website reports that "This news has rocked the parenting world, which had embraced the videos as a miraculous child-rearing staple."

Are you freaking kidding me? False advertising or not, what person honestly buys into an idea that watching TV is good for their kids? Seriously? You thought that by plopping your kids down in front of a screen instead of spending quality time with them you were doing them a favor? That bright colors and hand puppets were doing anything more productive then amusing your kids so you didn't have to deal with them? How convenient for you.

You want to know what I think? I think there is a whole generation of kids being raised with TV as their full time babysitter, teacher, and guide to the world and somewhere in the back of all these adults minds was the knowledge that they were being shitty parents and failing miserably at the job they could never admit they didn't want as much as they thought they did. So when one jackass somewhere says "Oh! These movies will make your kid smarter!" they all latched onto it and said to one another "Oh, I AM being a good parent if I just make my kids watch this specific program. Then I can drink my coffee in peace without having to deal with the crying, the screaming, the scraped knees, and all those other pesky things commonly known as parenting." And suddenly they could drink that coffee free from the gnawing guilt they had previous been so frustrated by... and they were happy. I'm not buying for a second that anyone was really that dumb to believe that watching TV is good for their children, I think they just wanted an excuse... ANY excuse... to not spend the time doing all the hard parts of parenting.

For all your parents out there who are reading this going "What! Baby Einstein was misleading! I was misled! It's not my fault! Jenna, you're just a judgemental bitch!" but who know in their heart of hearts that I'm right, I have a message for you. NUT UP! You brought these little things into the world and made the choice to keep them so now it's your responsibility to do what needs to be done. Play with your kid, teach them the life lessons that they need to know, discipline them and help them grow into decent people. That isn't going above and beyond the call of duty or being a martyr... that's called doing your job.

Personally, I love Baby Einstein because every once in a while you do just need a break. Everyone, even the best best parents, are going to have those days when they get to their limit and need to drink their coffee in peace, and putting in a Baby Einstein DVD for 30 minutes so you can rejuvenate and be a good parents again is in my opinion astronomically better then putting on Sponge Bob. Having "one of those days" doesn't make you a bad parent, it makes you human. But don't lie to yourself about it and try to convince anyone that them watching it is for their own good... just enjoy your coffee, savor the moment of relative serenity, then get back into your life.

Oh and for anyone who really is gullible enough to think that flickering pixels in your child's face was going to make them Mensa members... you're stupid. Sorry.

"My Child Is An Honor Student" bumper stickers

In searching for words to describe my hatred for "My Child Is An Honor Student" bumper stickers I realized that it really all stems back to a much more general hatred.

I hate 90% of bumper stickers or window decals in the world and the reason for my hatred can be summed up in four simple words... WHO GIVES A SHIT!?!?! When we get to be friends I will be interested in what club you are in, how your child is doing in school, which church you attend, and where your political affiliations lie. But guess what, we're not best buds, on the contrary our entire relationship consists of you being next to me on the interstate at this moment in our lives and all I care about is that you don't drive so close to me and that you stay the frick in your own lane. That's it... really... that's the extent of my concern for you. I do not care what sports team you spend your weekends cheering for, I don't care what your thoughts are on global warming/the 2nd amendment/drunk driving/your wife/etc, I don't care what you'd "rather be driving", and for the love of all that is good and holy the little kid peeing on something isn't witty anymore... it's been done so let it die.

But back to the point, My Kid's an Honor Student... really? Do the kids those refer to even like them? My favorite though are when they are from an elementary school... woohoo! Elementary school honor roll! What do you have to do to be on the honor roll in elementary school? Do you really feel the need to brag about the fact that your child is at the developmentally appropriate level for their age? Congratulations... your kid doesn't bite the other children... they can color inside the lines... gold star for your epic parenting. When I was in elementary school the kid with downs was on the honor roll.

Welcome to my blog

This is a blog. A blog I have started so I can rant and rave and generally be a semi-bitter and angry smart ass about all the things in this world that are stupid and that I hate. I was reading a book about accessing your creative side and it said I should write more... since I don't have any real profound or important thoughts that need to be imparted to the world I decided to go a different direction and instead pick a subject where I would have no lack of material to write about. There are lots of stupid things in this world that have rightfully earned my hate... let's explore them together.

Oh, and if I offend anyone in the course of these rantings (and I'm certain that I will) I'm sorry you were offended. That last part's a lie... I'm really not sorry at all.