- Courtney Stodden not only exists, but is frequently in the news for wearing stripper heels to the grocery store.
- Though we have a huge problem with poverty and unemployment, the current political discussion in the US is focused around chicken and magic vaginas.
- Everyone’s got their knickers in a bunch about this being a Christian nation, but there’s a Mormon running for office (Mormons don’t believe in the holy trinity or hell and there’s this whole thing about three heavens but I got bored reading about it). I don’t trust anyone who doesn’t believe in coffee.
- High fructose corn syrup.
- Miley Cyrus got a haircut. Are we really supposed to give a shit? There are bigger problems in the world, people. She’s a 19-year-old who had a TV show on Nickelodeon. Prioritize.
- Nobody smokes at concerts anymore.
- Honey Boo Boo is a reality show. I’m not completely sure what it’s about, but I’m pretty sure it has something to do with the apocalypse.
- American Girl dolls—seriously, I don’t get it. That shit is creepy. I really, really hope my daughter doesn’t get into those.
- We’re still talking about Kim Kardashian’s divorce.
The past few weeks I’ve felt chaotic to the point that I started to consider professional help. A psychic, not a shrink. I’m not prepared for the level of commitment a therapist would require. I learned yesterday (thank you, Kathy) that my irrational behavior and the sensation that a gazillion thoughts are going to make my brain explode and leave little bits of skull all over the place can be attributed to the fact that Mercury is in retrograde. I’m not losing my shit, you guys! This is fabulous news. In case you don’t know what this means, please allow me to explain.
The planet Mercury occasionally gets too big for its britches and decides to go so ridiculously slow, it appears to be going backward. “Look at me, I’m so special I don’t have to do what the other planets are doing…blah, blah…” This throws the entire universe off kilter. Energy is a sensitive beast, after all.
Well, before Mercury was a planet he was the Roman god of commerce. In some depictions he carried a purse, supposedly because he was a businessman. It was a purse, Tinky Winky. I think we all know where this is going: straight to mutha-flippin’ Chick-Fil-A! Mercury got his knickers in a twist and did something “inappropriate” at America’s third favorite chicken shop and then that man named Cathy said some things and now nobody but Fundies can eat cheap chicken sandwiches with waffle fries.
Mercury was also the god of sleep and dreams. Lots of us have suffered from insomnia lately. Why aren’t we conducting all night domino-tournaments? That’s better than lying awake trying to choose between world-domination or rehab. Let’s plan ahead for Mercury’s next hissy-fit, y’all. I’ll bring the big gay purse full of chicken!
Mercury was also the god of pranksters. So, basically he’s a bit of an asshole. That’s why he’s messing with each and every one of us right now. Are things just not making sense? Are your children taunting you to the point that you’ve considering joining the Merchant Marines but you’re not sure if that’s even a real thing? Have you considered using your creative energy to sew all the sheets in the house together because it would be really cool to have a giant sheet (you could drape it over your house and the neighbors would wonder if you had ET in there) but you sold your sewing machine fifteen years ago when that silver dress you made looked like something Courtney Love would have rejected for being too shabby? Calm down, sweetie. It’s not your fault. Blame Mercury. That prick.
This is how I think it goes from what my friends have told me, crap I’ve read here and there, and the reviews on Amazon.
“Hello, are you Mr. Grey? I’m Anastasia.” Ana gasps and her cheeks flush red beneath her alabaster skin. Holy crap he is hot.
“Yes,” he barked. “What are you doing in my office?”
“I’m sorry. I’m just a virgin. I’m here to interview you for something.”
“Oh really? That’s great because I’m older and pervy. Do you like handcuffs?” He barks again.
Ana’s knees go all wobbly and she falls down.
Mr. Grey extends a smooth yet slightly work-calloused hand. “You can call me,” pause, “Christian.” The name escapes his manly throat breathily as he assists her to her wobbly yet mousy shoes.
He looks to her shoes and chuckles. “We’ll be exchanging those for heels. You know how heterosexual men feel about their lover’s footwear.”
“Oh Jeez, did you say ‘lover’?” Ana feels titillated. Oh, quadruple crap.
Christian’s lips quirk up, because that’s a thing that happens. He stands her upright and steps away. “I have mommy-issues. Please, please, tell me you have daddy-issues.”
“Oh, I do,” she murmurs.
He, ya know, spanks her because that’s what goes on all the time right there.
Christian says, “Ana, let me dress you just like straight men always dress their women.”
Ana bites her lip and nods, then falls down, because apparently she’s quite clumsy.
He touches her nose with his long index finger and she stares into his intense gray eyes (what a coincidence that his last name is Grey, right?) and they do it and she plays the submissive and falls down some more and then she like learns how to take the power back or something and he gets over his mommy-issues and she did it! She changed the bad-boy billionaire and they get married and live happily ever after because that’s what every woman all over the world really wants.
Here’s the set-up: the small one with the douchebag baby-daddy is sitting on a fancy sofa with a homely toddler in preppy clothes. The one who looks like a sasquatch comes in.
“I don’t know why everyone keeps saying I’m fat. I’m a size 8!”
“I don’t want to talk about it, Kolonoscopy. My feet are swollen to the size of pork tenderloin and that guy who keeps knocking me up won’t rub them because he’s asleep.”
“You mean he’s not working!” Klown-Face shouts.
The audience goes “oooooooohhhhh” because no one saw Klown-Face enter the room and she’s all uptight about everybody working.
“Don’t give me any crap right now, Klown-Face,” Korn Nuts says. “I’m minutes away from pushing out another bastard kid and I don’t want your drama.”
“Mom, Korn Nuts said ‘bastard’!” Klown-Face runs from the room and Kolonoscopy laughs until she farts.
Mom enters the room. “Girls, are you being mean to Klown-Face? You know she’s my favorite and I won’t let you sleep here if you make her mad.”
“Yes, Mom,” they both say and roll their eyes.
Olympic hero Bruce Jenner enters the room and everyone gasps.
“Sorry, Bruce. It’s still scary,” Mom says.
“Yeah, yeah. Where are Klondike and Krispy Kreme?”
“Who?” Mom asks.
“Your other daughters,” Bruce Jenner replies or asks. No one is sure because of the position of his eyebrows.
“Oh yeah. I think they’re at a party. Or a bikini shoot. Or maybe a bikini porn party. I’m not sure because I’m a cool mom.”
“Korn Nuts, you just peed your pants!” Kolonoscopy says, laughing once again until she farts.
“No dumbshit! My water broke. Bruce Jenner Olympic Hero, please go wake up my pink-clad baby-daddy.”
“It’s only noon, Korn Nuts. He’ll be angry.”
“Just do it, Bruce Jenner Olympic Hero,” she growls, baring her tiny teeth.
“That’s right, Bruce Jenner!” Klown-Face shouts. “Wake up that lazy douchebag or I will!”
The audience “oooooohhhh’s” again because they didn’t see her slink back into the fancy sitting parlor.
“Oh gawd, Klown-Face. Do you have to butt-in all the time?” Korn Nuts asks.
“Get it, butt-in? Cause you have a huge ass?” Kolonoscopy says.
“Shut up, Kolonoscopy!” Klown Face shouts and pushes Kolonoscopy onto the lush carpet.
“Stop it, bitches! I’m about to have a baby! Go get Douchebag, Bruce Jenner Chronically Surprised Olympic Hero!”
Bruce leaves while Klown-Face and Kolonoscopy wrestle on the floor. There’s a lot of hair pulling and butt jiggling. Bruce returns with a sleepy Douchebag.
“What’s going on, Babe? You know I don’t get up until 1:00.”
“My water just broke. Our next somewhat wanted baby is on the way.”
“Why do I smell pee?” Douchebag asks.
Then Korn Nuts realizes that she really did pee on the couch and they all have a good laugh. To make Douchebag forgive her for waking him up an hour early, she buys him a Bentley and they cruise slowly in front of homeless people.
- When you’re in line at the grocery store, stand directly behind the person in front of you. About six inches is a good length to make the person squirmy. If he or she moves forward, shuffle forward to close the gap. If he or she asks you what you’re doing, reply with a simple “You smell like pickles. Dill, not bread and butter.”
- Go to a restaurant alone and request a table for two. Pretend to believe there’s a date named Ramone with you. When the server approaches the table, fight with Ramone because he thinks you drink too much. Say, “Don’t judge me, Ramone! You don’t know my life.” Order for a plate of food for Ramone and pout when he refuses to eat. Get really drunk and give Ramone the car keys on the way out.
- Walk around with a “kick me” sign on your back. When people are kind enough to tell you it’s there, kick them as hard as you can in the shins. Then turn and run away while shouting “Stop trying to steal my minnows!”
- Take a taxidermied squirrel to an ice cream parlor. Sit at a table and lick the squirrel’s head repeatedly. This one also works at Taylor Swift concerts.
- Have Tourette’s.
- Walk around a convenience store with a large blood stain on your shirt, preferably in the stomach or chest area. Ask people if you appear pale. If they ask if you’re okay, laugh and say, “Is anyone okay, smartass?” Then walk away swaying a bit.
- Sit outside of Wal-Mart with a large empty box and a sign that reads “free puppies”. When people stop to see the puppies, look in the empty box and start crying really hard.
- Wear bike shorts in public. This is especially effective if you’re male.
- Approach a stranger who is not wearing a hat and say, “I like your hat.” When he or she responds, “I’m not wearing a hat”, shout, “Why do you always say that?” and start laughing uncontrollably.
- Walk toward someone as if to say “hello”, but don’t speak. Instead, insert your index finger directly in his or her nostril. Not too deep, just around the rim. You don’t want to pull out any prizes.
Remember: a stranger is a friend you haven’t met yet!