I kicked yo ass, NaBloMoFo!
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Tag Archives: NaBloPoMo
NaBloPoMo Final Stretch. More white socks please!
Dear Kraft Macaroni & Cheese, are you sure I really need to add FOUR tablespoons of butter? Isn’t that like, a lot?
Dear vegetarians, I hate to tell you, but Tofurkey does not look nor taste like turkey. Or anything that is benign. If you are going to be a vegetarian, just suck it up and find peace within yourself. What is the point with fake meat anyway? It is like, oh, I can’t kill real people so I will just dismember Barbie dolls. CREEPY.
Dear people who love to make things from scratch, Stove Top stuffings taste better than any home-made stuffings I’ve ever had the good fortune of tasting. If you would like to convince me otherwise, feel free to send me yours.
Dear Parents-in-Law, “You betcha!” ceased to be funny the second time you said it. And I hope watching Sarah Palin’s Alaska and finding her “adorable” and her show “interesting” is not a sign that you consider her a legitimate candidate for anything more serious than a cable show host. Some people find Snooki on Jersey Shore “adorable” and the entire Housewives franchise “interesting”. Just sayin.
Dear Christian Conservatives and Tea Partiers, Ayn Rand (whoever she was) was an avowed atheist and she supported abortion rights. Just thought you should know.
Dear Uber Cool World Record Penny Pyramid, I am very sorry that I read the subject line as “Got Penises? Largest Penis Design Pyramid” and therefore I was not able to fully appreciate your awesomeness when I excitedly clicked on the link.
Dear PayPal, I am very sorry that I replaced the “P” in the last word in your new tagline “The world’s most-loved way to pay and get paid” with an “L” when I first saw it, and therefore for a second thought you finally found a way to optimize your revenue perhaps even with a joint venture with Craig’s List.
Dear semi-cute Starbucks Barista, you really broke my heart when you held my eyes for a long moment and then called me ma’am.
Dear SUV Driver, if you cannot park within the lines, you really should not be allowed to buy a car that big.
Dear Cadillac Escalade owner, please see above. In addition, please stop tailgating me. I am not going to budge because I am a bitch like that. You are not going to intimidate me with your mass. If you were driving a real truck with a gun rack and not some manifestation of conspicuous consumption, I may be scared. Costco will be there waiting for you. There is no hurry. And if you are late for your hair stylist appointment, I am pretty sure they will wait for you since you tip so well on top of the $200 you spend there every time.
Dear Sports Car Owner, you have a very nice car, drive it. It pangs me when you drag your ass below the speed limit: it’s like not having sex when you are sleeping with Megan Fox. (I use her as an example because I assume asshats like you go gaga over empty shells like her. You are welcome.)
Dear Person Whose License Plate says SORDID, I am going to assume that you have a secret identity that is more exciting than your train-taking commuting suit-cladding backpack-wearing self.
Dear Fellow Blackberry Widows, is it just me or do you find typing on Blackberry in the middle of the night in total darkness as annoying as banging on a typewriter while shining a bright light in your eyes?
Dear iPhone lovers, be honest: do you now type less carefully because in case when you make a mistake, it is actually cool to show people what hilarious suggestions Auto Correct come up with? Win-Win, right?
Dear Straight Men, what is it about Jennifer Love Hewitt that makes her so hot to you lot? I am gonna bet that every woman groans when you mention her as one of the hot actresses. We simply can’t see it. Jessica Alba. Yeah, I concur. Megan Fox. I can see why. But Jennifer Love Hewitt? Not so much.
Dear Husband, it is very uncool to quote with glee “It rubs the lotion on its skin or else it gets the hose again.” when I ask you to put lotion on my back. Same goes to saying “Redrum. Redrum.” in a creepy voice after our bedroom was painted, yes, red.
Dear Husband, I am not so sure about the lone item on your wish list: the 10 Disc set of “Romancing the 70s”. I can understand the 80s, and possibly the 90s. But Romancing the 70s? Are you gay? Because if you are, that would explain a lot. On the other hand, if you are, why do I get the one gay guy who is not stylish and does not appreciate shoes? You also do not make a good confidant. Just my luck. Ugh.
Dear Santa, I would like all my files to be transferred from my old computer to the new computer, neatly organized, like magic.
Dear Internet, I am sorry for subjecting you to more White Socks in my Crotch and Tissues inside my Bras to get myself over the finish line for NaBloMoFo. Be well. Stay well.
Sundays in My City
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Remember: Picnik is a lady’s best friend. During the holiday season, Picnik’s is the mother’s best friend.
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Freak out!
Almost 3 pm the day before Thanksgiving. House. Not cleaned. Laundry. Not done. Thanksgiving dishes. Not planned. Ham. Not picked up from the store yet. Pies. Ditto. Grocery list. Nope. Grocery shopping. Ha!
My parents-in-law are flying in tomorrow arriving at 11 am. Vegetarian brother-in-law. 3 pm.
I am running around not knowing which task to tackle first. Mr. Monk has started the timer for 20 minutes: time to leave me alone so I can regroup and breathe. But he kept on coming over to talk to me so he graciously agreed to add 5 more minutes to the timer.
I am ashamed to admit: This scene happens every Thanksgiving.
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Oh, yeah, I had to come back and ETA (“Edited to add”): Tomorrow is also Mr. Monk’s 8th birthday. Yeah. I forgot. I have been forgetting it every day. I just did, even after he reminded me today:
“Will you at least wish me a happy birthday tomorrow morning?”
So add to the To-Do-List: Buy birthday presents for son. And do not forget his birthday again!
While I go freaking out some more, running around town like a headless chicken turkey, please enjoy this.
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Or this version by The Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain. (Not kidding, Elly! In fact, I won’t be surprised if you have applied for a chair there already…)
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I am sorry!
It is a good thing I do not work in any accounting firm or the Wall Street. I am backdating again. The REAL date is November 20, 2010.
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Remember this.
Screenshot from my new favorite film: Mary and Max, written, designed & directed by Adam Elliot
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“Love yourself first and everything else falls into line. You really have to love yourself to get anything done in this world.” — Lucille Ball
“If you don’t love yourself, you cannot love others. You will not be able to love others. If you have no compassion for yourself then you are not able of developing compassion for others.” — Dalai Lama
“NaBloPoMo forces me to change my perspectives on quoting famous people and thus taking an easy way out.” — Lin
A Long Way Home
Here is something that amused me for an entire hour the other day:
Go to google map, search for Directions from China to Taiwan.
Take a look at Direction Number 55.
Here, I have taken the liberty to show you a composite screenshot. I am awesome like this.
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Before you sneer at how easily I am amused (even though it is true!) please know that you cannot do this for trips between say the U.S. and Europe. google will not allow you to swim in the Atlantic Ocean. Whereas trips to Asia? Google says, “Be my guest!”
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This is why, ladies and gents, we do not complain about air travel...
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This is why, ladies and gentlemen, we should never complain about air travel.
Looking at this 38-day, 10,000 mile trip in which I have to kayak, jet ski and swim across the Pacific Ocean, I now feel much better about my 2-leg 16-hour-in-middle-seat one-day trip to Taipei.
Perspectives. The cure for whining.
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On an unrelated note, I think I may partake in NaBloPoMo again. National Blog Posting Month. I did it last year: I was crying uncle and said NEVER AGAIN! when I emerged from the darkness called “Blogger’s Block aka I ran out of shit to write about on the third day”. Call me compulsive masochistic nuts. At this moment, I thought I’d give it a go simply because they have a category “Psychotic Ranting/Anonymous Foaming”; I simply need to be part of something this awesome.
Yes. NaBloPoMo looks and sounds very similar to NaBloMoFo, and believe me, by the end of this month, I’d be calling it NaBloMoFo. When your spouse complains about your even crazier blogging obsession, erratic schedules and the unfed children, just tell him that next month could be NaBloJoMo if he pipes down, and oh, does the laundry (by laundry, we mean “folding the goddamn clothes too”. Thank you).
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Something that really made my blood boil today and I think we all need to read this excellent investigative reporting by NPR. Please take a look at this and be outraged. As a nation, we need to be outraged by this: Prison Economics Help Drive Ariz. Immigration Law
… What he was selling was a prison for women and children who were illegal immigrants … That’s because prison companies like this one had a plan — a new business model to lock up illegal immigrants. And the plan became Arizona’s immigration law.
NPR spent the past several months analyzing hundreds of pages of campaign finance reports, lobbying documents and corporate records. What they show is a quiet, behind-the-scenes effort to help draft and pass Arizona Senate Bill 1070 by an industry that stands to benefit from it: the private prison industry.
The law could send hundreds of thousands of illegal immigrants to prison in a way never done before. And it could mean hundreds of millions of dollars in profits to private prison companies responsible for housing them.
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What Laura Sullivan and NPR uncovered gives an evil spin to the catchphrase “It’s the economy, stupid.”
Here is my silent scream, something I wish someone in a position to do so could actually confront Arizona state Sen. Russell Pearce with, invoking the famous retort by Welch against McCarthy:
“Have you no sense of decency, sir? At long last, have you left no sense of decency?”
Hello, December!
"Ma! There is nothing inside!"
If not for the end of NaBloPoMo, I would not have been so eager to see December, in all honesty.
Who's your daddy?!
Sorry, December. It’s not you. On second thought, actually, it is you.
I am just remembering the things I need to accomplish before we get on the plane to DC for Christmas on December 20. I am too scared to start making the list. Christmas shopping is the least of my worry right now. (Hello! Walgreens and CVS!) Real Fear #1 is that I may need to send out a Christmas card, NOT with the adorable picture of my kids smiling after I yell “DAMN IT! SMILE NOW OR I WILL DO IT FOR YOU!” which sadly is an annual occurrence, BUT of a picture of James Garfield since it is extremely tempting AND it just seems so much easier than trying to capture the smiles of my kids in the midst of whining, grabassing and soon sobbing.
(Do we have an English teacher in the house? I am sure the above sentence is a prime example for teaching your students how to fix grammatic errors. You can use it for free. You are welcome).
Real Fear #2, or perhaps it is simply Annoyance #1: Advent Calendar. HOW TO FILL THAT SUCKER EVERY SINGLE DAY MORNING? Oh, and REMEMBER TO FILL IT EVERY MORNING. That would help.
I forget, the way I forget that “tooth fairy brings a coin the night you lost your tooth”, saved only by crawling under the bed and yelling, “Oh, honey, look! It is here all along. It just fell!”
An advice to you out there without an Advent Calendar but are considering it: Do NOT do it. But if you must, make sure you get the Advent Calendar with BIG spaces for the stuff. Ours has itzy bitzy spaces that are meant for the Lilliputians. I kid you not. It is a great source of stress for me every year, trying to figure out WHAT in the hell I can shove into that tiny hole, for TWO kids.
I decided on Quarters last year. I was so proud of myself: Who does not like cash?
Well, my kids don’t.
You think I can get pieces of coals that can fit in that box?
I comment therefore I am not doing what I am supposed to be doing…
November 30. Yeah baby!
I am finishing this NaBloMoFo with a special edition of “I Comment Therefore I Am”…
… because it is Monday. And Monday, especially Monday after the long Thanksgiving weekend, absolutely sucks ass, especially if you work in an office…
In this edition, I will share with you how I abuse my privilege as a reader and commenter of blogs…
Eat me
The Sky is Falling asked her readers this question:
So, if you were making a list of “Dat’s Some Funny Shit,Yo,” what movies/TV/books/blogs/etc. would you include? What has informed (or malformed) your particular brand of humor? What falls in the category of Sorry, I Just Don’t Get It? Any deal-breakers (for example, “If I found out you loved/hated __________, you would be dead to me.”)?
She had no idea what she had done: it’s like dangling fat dripping meat to a hungry cougar. I totally took the bait. So I commented at 8:14 PM:
Hey, the jokes made me cry and smile at the same time. {{{hugs}}} if hugs from strangers over the internet are not too creepy for ya. We are a family of cracking “inappropriate” jokes at “inappropriate” moments also. I eagerly clicked on all 4 YouTube links and realized: I need to spend some time watching them so I can test my love for you! So, I will be back. Also you left us a homework at the end. Maybe we (your loyal readers) need to write posts in response to this question. 🙂 Promise: I will be back.
p.s. You are making it very difficult for me to tend to my motherly duty. Your posts all make me think too much and I am now constantly distracted! LOL
An hour later… I wrote some more:
I’m back! Sorry it took so long since I have StumbledUpon almost all of them, and tweeted 2 of them! LOVE Eddie Izzard. (Confession: I only watched him on YouTube. We have no cable. And we don’t watch that much TV not because we are snobbish but because we have no time) I was also distracted because I found him pretty… That clip is funny as hell. “We stole countries with the cunning use of flags.” Bloody BRILLIANT! I want to go around and say “No flag. No country” now. I love the Strong Bad one too. (Confession: have never really watched the Homestar Runner show EXCEPT the Strong Bad email sections) I actually saw Louis CK when he was on Conan O’Brien. LOVED IT and then told everybody I know that travels frequently. Yes, we bitch about air travel all the time. I did curtail my bitching afterwards. Now I say to myself whenever my flight is delayed: “At least I am not travelling with my kids.” Being a parent does give you life-changing perspectives. LOL. I have to confess: I was not laughing at the Muppet Danny Boy clip. Sorry! BTW, I checked my StumbledUpon and saw that I had “favored” a Jackass clip. OH NO! But it’s the one where they dressed up as pandas and ran around in Tokyo. I liked it because they were clearly idiots, and the clip shows, at least the way I interpret it, that the Japanese have a great sense of humor and a great deal of tolerance for stupidity as exhibited by foreigners, i.e. they are our guests. We shall not laugh at them, but rather, laugh with them. I told you: I need to write an entire complete post to answer your question. Good one though!
In her other post, “If You Drink At Every Parenthetical in this Post, You Probably Should Not Drive” (by the way, isn’t this an awesome title? And of course I commented on it…), she asked her readers yet more questions. I think she has a death wish by Comment Hogs or something.
I haven’t told my sister about this blog. What do y’all do about the whole anonymity issue? Do you have a chosen circle? Are you totally incognito? Reasons for/against?
I absolutely rose to the occasion and commented THREE times.
NOVEMBER 25, 2009 5:21 PM
I love the title of this post. I need to stop by to say hi, but I need to go focus on Mr. Monk since it’s his birthday. BUT I will be back ’cause THIS topic hits right at home. From your loyal reader aka NOT Love Greg*
NOVEMBER 25, 2009 8:07 PM
Short answer for now because I need to clean up the house and put together a grocery list for Thanksgiving… Parents-in-law flight arrives tomorrow at 9 am! I am anonymous not because I am afraid of stalkers (Not that famous yet so no need. LOL) but because I am worried that someone from work may chance upon my blog and then the whole company would know. I don’t talk about work still since I am paranoid. I really want to complain about being the only woman in my office sometimes but I refrain from doing that now since well, just in case. A few of my very close friends who I can trust know about my blog. My husband knows but does not read it often. Sometimes I wish he didn’t since I wanted to complain about him really bad often… None of my family knows. Well, my side does not read English. My husband’s side… Well, let’s just say my MIL is a devout Catholic and my FIL thinks Fox News is the greatest (for which we have made fun of him and he’s ok with it…) They are really very nice and very kind and they treat me like their own daughter. We get along fine since we do NOT talk about politics or religions. Again though, I don’t complain about people in my life really JUST IN CASE. Any passing complaints directed towards people that you do care are best left unwritten. That’s my take. Because you never know when the written thing is going to come back and bite you…
If you do tell your sister about this blog, and if she does want to start her own blog, you two should think about hosting a blog together. This way it will definitely ease the burden of having to write a post every day (or even every other day). That being said: I don’t know how you would deal with “popularity contest”, “competition”, and “jealousy”. I am human, and I am bound to feel jealous if my sister’s posts are more popular than mine on the same blog… Think about WHAM! as an example… 😉
(Sorry for bad grammar and yet another long comment!)
p.s. Totally dig stream of consciousness writing.
NOVEMBER 25, 2009 9:55 PM
OK. What kind of SHORT answer was THAT?!
There you have it. Oink. Oink.
* The “Love Greg” joke requires the reading of this post Creepoid vs. Bitch for which I also left a long comment. Totally worth it, my imaginary friends.
When in doubt, complain about your spouse…
I have nothing.
Tis 3 am 4 am on Sunday morning, I am supposed to have published a post on Saturday to meet the NaBloMoFo objective: Guess. One post every day. I have only three more posts to go. For someone who has not filled out a journal past page 10 since, eh, ever, I am actually quite proud of myself for having come this far. Yet, I have nothing. Is it possible to have Writer’s Block when you are technically not a writer? How bad you ask? So bad that I am humming this in my head …
Now THAT is bad, huh. You believe me now?
This brings me to present you with yet another filler post called…
Things My Husband Said that But for the Mercy of god My Children Didn’t Become Orphans with One Parent in Jail…
Scene 1
I suffer from severe morning [sic] sickness. So severe that as soon as I started heaving, I knew I was pregnant with Mr. Monk even before I peed on a stick, that I lost 10 lbs. in the first two weeks in my first pregnancy and almost 20 lbs., in my second pregnancy, that I practically lived by the toilet throughout the entire pregnancy, that I did not stop involuntary vomiting till Mr. Monk was born, that I felt I was starved for nine months and made the mistake of making it up by gaining weight after the pregnancy when clearly I should have done it the other way around…
This is not about how my husband took it upon himself to name the toilet The Porcelain Throne, as in “She is worshiping the Porcelain Throne again.”
On our way back from a routine checkup, after the doctor reassured me that my rapid weight loss during the first trimester was not endangering the baby especially since it happened the exact same way with my first born, my husband claimed that he had a theory about WHY I AM PUKING MY GUTS OUT, and also about WHY I AM HAVING IT TOUGHER THE SECOND TIME AROUND.
“Oh, really?” I was curious. With sincerity.
“How much did you weigh when we first met?”
“Hmm. 155 lbs. I think.”
“So when you were pregnant with [the oldest], you were like what? 165 maybe?”
“Yes…” I don’t care who you are or what kind of solid-fortress relationship you have got going there. Nothing good is going to come out of a pontification on a woman’s weight by her husband. Nothing.
He got really excited now. “You see. You lost about 10 lbs. in two weeks right? So you quickly got down to your ideal weight.”
“Ok…” Again. Nothing good is going to come out of the said husband mentioning the word ideal weight. Nothing.
“You were a lot heavier before you were pregnant this time, right?… [Mulling it over] You were like 180 lbs. no?”
Oh. For the love of god. Please see my comment above.
Taking a deep breath, I corrected him, “No. I was like 172. TOP!”
“Well, but you WERE heavier.” He got more excited because he could see his theory was going to be proven. Soon.
“Fine.” Heh heh. We all know what THAT means.
“So you see, this is the NATURE’s way to get you down to your ideal weight as soon as possible, again.”
He didn’t say it, but I could hear the “Ta da!” in his voice. Unfortunately, he was NOT joking. This was for him a scientific theory. Or, at least, A theory. I could SEE the words forming in 3-D gigantic block letters. With Jazz hands.
TA-DA!
“So… are you saying that I am throwing up because I am FAT? I am FATTER so I throw up MORE?”
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In case you are wondering, NO, I did not murder him right then and there. No, I did not divorce him either.
My apology to all the foremothers before me that have fought for our liberation. My apology also for the fact that there is not going to be a SCENE 2. I thought there was going to be but I ran out of steam. I am now all indignant all over again. And as you know, indignation drains your energy faster than an amorous vampire bite.
As a consolation prize, here is a short vignette of Things My Husband Said… in case you haven’t got enough of this Tomfoolery Jackassery:
“What does NaBloPoMo mean?”
“It means National Blog Posting Month.”
“Huh?”
“*sigh* It means I have to write a post on my blog every single day for the month of November.”
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“Do you know, *cough*, that December is NaBloJoMo?”
Nice try.
No dice.