"Tambo liteh sette mo-jah! Yo! Jambo jambo!"*

As I'm wrapping up my current job before the upcoming move, there's a laundry list of things to get done before my last day, one of which is going through and cleaning out my inbox. Well, in doing so, I came across one of my funnier email exchanges with a friend of mine. I thought that I should share, in the hopes that you appreciate our ridiculously immature sense of humor as much as we do.

To give you a quick back-story, this email chain was inspired by an interesting article that I'd seen on a friend's Facebook page that morning (because every day after my alarm goes off thrice (give me a break - I only allow myself two snooze hits), I roll over, grab the ol' crackberry, and catch up on my social media . . . with one eye open), about the average penis size of every country. Obviously, it piqued my interest.** View the stats for yourself here. You know you want to. I won't judge . . . much.

Anywho, to make a long story longer, I found some of the numbers (specifically the high and low benchmarks) SO interesting, I thought I should pass on the fun-filled facts. My friend T and I chatted about the details over lunch (which resulted in fits of giggles, as per yoojh) . . . and I followed up the conversation with an email, which led to the following email chain (Uh...yeah. You're obviously going to want to click the pics to enlarge. I'm 99.99% sure that it's worth it. Unless your sense of humor sucks. In which case, I'm really not overly concerned with you thinking this is funny, because you very likely don't think anything I have to say is funny, and if that's the case, we should part ways here. Beat it. Now that that's over with, shall we get to the laughs? Thanks.):

 

Hahaha! Gets me every time. Also, I know T mentioned it, but let me again point out the usage of the upper and lower case p's to further indicate the size. What you can't tell from these tiny little thumbnails is that in the original emails, the p's are true scale representations. That's right, folks. I got out my ruler and made sure that the diagrams were accurate. How else would T have a reliable reference point? Anyway, I hope you got as much of a kick out of that as we did. We incidentally both forwarded the chain to our personal email addresses for a rainy day.


*Gold star if you can get the song reference in the title of this post! For those of you wondering, it's not a real language. The singer made it up himself. Promise. So, I figure this line can mean whatever I want it to mean. My prerogative. Another 80's song reference! I'm on a roll. Anyway, the actual title of the song I referenced was just another little tongue-in-cheek tie-in for you other 80's babies and/or trivia lovers.  

**It's not like I'm a big perv or anything, I just thought it was an attention-grabbing topic. It's kind of like the naked African women in National Geographic with the face tats and huge, saggy boobs. You're not turned on by the sight, but it's still interesting. 

Amended: Casey Anthony and the Silence of the Lamb

*This article was amended on 07.01.2011*

Okay, folks. I'm going to ask that you briefly indulge me - perhaps I'm a little slow on the reuptake, but I'd like to chat about the Casey Anthony trial. This story hits super close to home for me because I was actually living in Orlando in 2008, when Caylee "went missing." For those of you who don't know, let me tell you - the whole city practically shut down. There were search parties, billboards; they dragged the lakes. Everybody was looking for this poor little girl. I'm pretty sure that as all of the bizarre details slowly started to filter in, I decided rather quickly that fun-loving Casey Anthony was guilty as sin. Not because of the trashy pics that surfaced, with her sandwiched between various men, grinning in anticipation of the train she was [no doubt] getting ready to pull. (Nope, she's an adult. If she wants to spend her life immersed in the Orlando nightlife (if you can really call it that), that's her business; I'm not judging.) I think what made up my mind was the dead body smell wafting from her trunk, and all of the other sketchy things, like the reports of the nonexistent Zanny the Nanny (um...Casey lived at home with her parents...how could she possibly afford a nanny), and the shovel Casey allegedly borrowed from the neighbors. Um...suspicious, much? There was just something fishy to me about the thought of a mother of a 3 year old who allegedly misplaced her child . . . and then borrowed a shovel from her neighbor. But what do I know?

Now flash forward to the present and the details are not getting any clearer. But can I just say - I'm SO tired of the damn Anthonys! Those enabling parents need to be ashamed of themselves. It's not my job to sit here and decide whether George Anthony touched Casey in her no-no place . . . but between you and me, I'm not buying it. What victim of sexual abuse by a family member continues to reside in said family member's house, even after reaching the legal age of independence? Nope. Doesn't happen. Those girls grow up with one foot out the door, poised and ready for the first opportunity to escape. I'll tell you another thing they don't do - raise their daughter in that same household, with the same abuser. Again, it just doesn't happen . . .and what about this cockamamie story about drowning in the pool? I don't know about you, but I've seen enough episodes of CSI and Law & Order to know that if someone's cause of death is drowning . . . there should probably be some, I don't know, WATER in their lungs? Last time I checked, that's how people drown. Their lungs fill with water and they die. It's not rocket science . . . if they can determine what you ate for dinner on the day of your death, I'm pretty sure they can figure out if there's some water in your lungs. Maybe the Orange County MedicalExaminer should check out this informative little link. That, or catch up on all of the CSI episodes that have evidently gone unwatched on the dvr. I'm just saying. *Okay, so I guess I didn't take decomp into consideration. I can admit when I'm wrong; but I'm sticking to my guns on this point. I find it super difficult to believe that Caylee Anthony accidentally drowned in the family pool. Again, I grew up in Central Florida. There are thousands of houses with pools in the backyard, and sadly, children die from accidental drownings in those same pools every year. Their parents don't go to jail; they mourn the loss of their innocent loved one. Had Caylee died accidentally by drowning in the pool, their first instinct would have been to call 911, and try to save that poor baby. It definitely wouldn't have been to bury her body in the woods. That's all I'm sayin about that.*

Here's the thing: what really gets my goat is that even after all of that, after all of her mudslinging and accusatory crap . . . they're still on Casey's side. Pathetic Cindy Anthony just can't let go and realize that her precious, shrew of a daughter is actually a pathological narcissist. It enfuriates me that she had the nerve to get on the stand and perjured herself (my opinion) about the internet chloroform research. Pa-lease. STOP LYING. No wonder your child grew up to be a selfish, murdering asshole. Because you're probably always there to pick up the pieces and duct tape (pun intended) them back together for her. Not to mention, it takes one to know one. Cindy Anthony has been lying for years - don't forget, she tried to correct her initial statement about the smell of decomp in the trunk to "stale pizza." Stale pizza? Really?! Uh. Yikes. Unless one of the toppings was human flesh, there is no reason a stale pizza should smell like a decomposing body and DEATH.

Listen, I know I'm not judge, jury or executioner, but let's face facts. If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it's probably a duck . . . and she very likely killed her baby duckling. I'm not saying it was intentional - I don't necessarily think it was. What I do think is that Casey is a selfish brat and didn't want to miss a night out at Club Roxy, or whatever debaucherous hot spot happened have free martinis until 11 that night, so it was easier to slap some duct tape on that poor, sweet girl's mouth and toss her in the trunk.

I honestly have no idea how this is all going to end. One thing I am sure of is that the PWT in Central Florida must be in hog heaven. This is the biggest news shitstorm to hit Central Florida since . . . Ted Bundy? No, really. People are lining up at the courthouse to sit in on this murder trial. Lining. Up. Like it's a midnight pre-release showing of the latest Twilight movie, or something. The eager beavers even erupted into a fist fight, for pete's sake. I couldn't make this up if I tried. See below.

Source

Now, that's class. I could go on about this trial forever, but what's the point *then we'd have to get into some unnecessary "eye for an eye" debate over the death penalty, and nobody's interested in that can of worms.* Besides, if you're following the case, Jose Baez is probably all the long-winded commentary you need. I'll check back with any noteworthy updates, and in the meantime, let's keep our fingers crossed for justice. In the words of Hannibal Lecter (another pathological narcissist), "All good things to those who wait."

It's High Time . . .

. . .that the Federal government legalize marijuana, don't you think? Don't worry, agreeing with that statement doesn't make you a raging pot head, or a drugged-out hippie. What it makes you is practical. No, really. I was flipping through the channels late last night, and happened upon a documentary on the History Channel, called "Marijuana: A Chronic History." Wow. Talk about mind blowing. The statistics alone are enough to make any logical person think twice about the legalization of marijuana. Don't believe me? See below, naysayers. You just might learn something (all facts taken from the aforementioned documentary).

Did you know . . .

• As of 2010, the United States boasted a population of 308,745,538? Out of that number, over 100 million (100,000,000) people have reported that they have smoked marijuana at least once before; 20 million (20,000,000) of those people smoke it regularly.
• Despite the fact that marijuana was considered legal tender in the days of America's Founding Fathers, marijuana has resulted in the most arrests in the "War on Drugs."
• At any given time, there are over 60,000 people jailed because of marijuana.
• There are currently 60-80 people serving life sentences marijuana-only offenses.
• One person is arrested every 37 seconds for marijuana-related crimes.

Okay, so here are some more interesting little morsels of marijuana factoids to go along with what you've already read. There is a proven racial disparity between African-American/Hispanic offenders and Caucasian offenders; Blacks and Mexicans are arrested and convicted at three times the rate of Whites on marijuana charges. New York City is one of the nation's leaders in this discrimination. For every one Caucasian arrested on marijuana charges, there are NINE Blacks/Hispanics arrested in NYC. That's pretty significant, no?

But all of that aside, the real fact that every taxpayer should know is that our Federal government spends about $13.7 BILLION on marijuana possession crimes. I kid you not. Almost fourteen billion dollars to enforce laws that prohibit a drug that is proven to be far less harmful than tobacco. Really?! So here's my question: when will the government wake up and smell the cannabis and realize that it would greatly behoove our wonderful country if everybody just would relax and go ahead and legalize marijuana? I mean, this is really ridiculous. Let's face facts, people are never going to stop smoking pot. It is impossible to completely eradicate it; therefore, it is impossible to truly prohibit it. So why not make a profit off of it? The government is doing itself (and us taxpayers) a huge disservice by refusing to stop the prohibition and demonization of marijuana. If they would just go ahead and legalize it (and, in turn, tax the mess out of it), do you know how much they could make in tax revenue?? Well, tobacco and alcohol sales generate over $17 billion in tax revenue, alone. So if that is any indication, assuming marijuana would be taxed at a rate similar to that of tobacco (40-50% excise and sales tax), a $40 billion marijuana market (the tobacco market is about $75 billion) would yield about $17-20 billion in tax revenue (See diagram below).

Source

Now, wouldn't that $20 billion be helpful, considering our current national budget calls for deficit spending . . . not to mention the tiny little detail of our national debt, which at last count was $14,447,351,480,691. No, wait. It's $14,447,351,500,336 now - because it's going nowhere but up . . . by the second. Have you ever seen so many commas in a dollar figure? Do you even know how to say that number out loud?? It's depressing. Apparently, America is just a nation with overall bad credit. So wouldn't you think that $20 billion in marijuana tax revenue could maybe do a little bit of good? Maybe? Especially when you take into consideration that legalization would also take away the need for that pesky $13.7 billion being spent to wage war on a relatively harmless substance. Oh yeah, and it would help with overcrowding in jails/prisons, AND offer the enterprising, marijuana-selling citizens of America an opportunity to do business on the up-and-up, without need for concern about imprisonment. Sounds like a win-win to me.

Listen, I'm not trying to force my humble opinion on you. If you agree with the demonization of marijuana* and cannot at all see the positives associated with its legalization, that's your business. All I ask is that you really weigh out the pros and cons. Remember, just because it's legal, it doesn't mean you have to smoke it; it just means you can. Wouldn't it be refreshing to have the option? Isn't that the premise that our country was founded upon? Democracy and the freedom of choice? I'm just saying. I don't smoke pot, either . . . but I'm fairly reasonable and can see that there are some major benefits to its legalization. For your convenience, I've given you a head start by including the first 15 minutes of that crazy informative documentary. Do me a favor and check it out! Do some research. Read the facts. If you find yourself nodding your head and suddenly agreeing vehemently with the points I made above, don't be surprised. It really is the practical choice. So when that happens - write your public officials! Send letters written on hemp and scented delicately with the essence of cannabis (grown hydroponically, please - nothing but the best and kindest) to your state Congressman. Maybe the extra subtle hints will do the trick. It takes a village, people! And if this village all rallied together, perhaps then we could solve the problems of the world with a simple toke off the proverbial peace pipe.  Peace and love. :)




*Wow. I really used the word "marijuana" a lot on this blog. I hope it doesn't raise any weird governmental red flags that are now going to be tied to my name for the rest of my life. Because that would suck. Especially since I don't even smoke the stuff. Haha if you took a drink every time I said "marijuana" in this post, you'd be pret-ty intoxicated. I'd tell you to try it, but alcohol has long-term negative effects that are exponentially worse than those of marijuana. I don't want you to endanger yourself on my account.

The Joys of Peer Reviews

As you know, I currently do triple duty as a devoted employee, wife and student, which can honestly be overwhelming at times . . . but I'm handling it. I think. But if you're ever wondering what the hell is taking me so long to put up a post . . . cut me some slack, okay? Because I'm probably studying. Or doing homework. Or working on a multi-million dollar presentation. Or doing laundry, or dishes . . . or something else equally as glamorous. Don't be jealous. It's a fantastic juggling act, but somebody's gotta do it.

That said, I'm currently taking one of the most pointless classes I could have possibly ever taken, for the simple reason that I need to fulfill some stupid prerequisite. I'm pretty sure that I can probably write circles around these young Texans. (Especially considering the slanted state of their secondary education curriculae . . . did everyone hear about the whole textbook debate debacle last year?! Uh . . . yeah. 'Nuff said. Oh wait, actually - I feel the need to mention that Fox News [conveniently] left out other changes, including the downplayed role of Thomas Jefferson in the proposed textbooks. Right; you heard me. Thomas. Jefferson.) My theory is supported by cold, hard, facts. We have been working to complete our first essay assignment, which is a critical analysis of a short story. The whole process has been rather lengthy, because we first had to submit a rough draft to obtain two peer reviews, and then incorporate those reviews into our final draft. So, I of course waited until the last minute to turn in my rough draft (don't judge; i'm a juggler, remember?), and I'm pretty sure I ended up with the bottom of the barrel of peer reviewers. Don't believe me? In the spirit of asphinctersayswhat, please have a look-see below for a snippet from one of my reviews:  (Unless you have the eyesight of a hawk, you should probably click on the image to enlarge it. Pay special attention to the comment bubbles on the right; my essay really is inconsequential here.)

*blinkblinkblink* ISSHESERIOUS?! I love how she makes all of these gentle suggestions on how I should re-format my perfectly good sentences to better suit her parameters . . . and her parameters are obviously not something I should be concerned with, considering she corrected my possessive "its" to "it's." Yeah, that's right. I apparently need to change my possessive pronoun (even though I was modifying a noun, but whatever) to a contraction. How could I have overlooked such an error? The funny thing is, this is only a snippet of her review. What you're seeing actually happens to be the FOURTH time she corrected me on this glaringly obvious (sarcasm) error. Perhaps I should point her in the direction of my "5 Ways to Avoid Making Silly Mistakes That Might Make You Look Dumber Than You Are." Although, I'm confident that her silly mistakes don't make her look dumber than she is . . . she probably truly is just that dumb. I also like how she suggested that I change a proper noun to a pronoun, when I go on to use about a million pronouns after that sentence. Oh, okay. So I guess it's not that important to identify who "he" is? Got it. I'll make sure to remember that next time. 

Okay, but my favorite part, the one that really took the cake, was the fourth comment she made regarding my usage of the word "than." Hahahaha! I genuinely laughed out loud when I read it. What a FANTASTIC explanation she gave (and I quote): "This is tricky, if your using than to describe different persons it is correct. If you would like to show the differences of change from when the story began, you would use then. I think than may cause a little more confusion than then." Ummmm . . . first of all, less confusion for whom? Because I wasn't at all confused, thanks. Second of all, I'm fairly certain that if you don't even recognize the need for the contraction version of the word "you're," I probably shouldn't be taking YOUR grammatical advice. Thirdly, whuck?! What? The? Hell? Is? She? Talking? About? If I'm using "than" to describe different persons? I can't even see what she's saying. Hmmm . . . I guess she was trying to say that "than" is used for comparisons . . . which it is; however, I suppose she failed to recognize that I was CLEARLY making a comparison in that sentence? I don't think "than" is actually the word she has problems with. It sounds like she really needs a clearer understanding of what the word "then" means. 

Yikes. Education, shmeducation. These are your tax dollars hard at work, folks. Let's just say that I'm glad I grew up in the Sunshine State, where Thomas Jefferson is known to be one of the principal authors of the Declaration of Independence; the Civil War was not merely a case of sectionalism, but also mostly about ending slavery; America is still a democratic nation; capitalism still exists, and people know the difference between pronouns, contractions, conjunctions and adverbs.*

*No offense to all my Texas readers out there. Maybe it's an accent thing? Like my co-worker from the panhandle, who insists on referring to her heels as "hills." Yeah . . . on second thought, I'm not convinced that's actually an accent thing. I think she might just be country. She also likes "pre-proportioned" meals, because they're better for you and you eat less. *blinkblinkblink*

Big Girl Trapped in a Skinny Girl's Body

I was flipping mindlessly through Google News today, seeing if anything tickled my pickle for my next post, and I came across this article that piqued my interest. The content doesn't affect me directly, but I thought it was a really interesting read. Topics related to weight problems and body image issues always strike near and dear to my heart, because I have fought a long, arduous battle with my own weight for most of my life. I was never actually obese . . . but I was definitely overweight. My thighs audibly threatened to start a fire everytime I walked, I was uncomfortable in jeans, never sat with my legs crossed all of the way (because let's face it, I couldn't), and trembled with fear at the mere thought of being seen in a swimsuit. My tween and adolescent years were spent being the chubby friend (probably because I grew up in Florida, surrounded by beautiful, blonde, beach bunnies with tiny, size 2 frames crammed into the most adorable daisy dukes and half tops . . . don't judge; I'm a child of the 80's/90's . . . and it was FLORIDA, remember??), longing for the day when I, too, could shop in 5-7-9 (hahaha it just seemed so exclusive, with its size restrictions and all), and prance around in a child-sized bikini without any fear about my jelly rolls scaring anyone away.

So I committed my adolescence and early adulthood to yo-yo and fad dieting, praying for the day when I could shed my chubby duckling shell and transform into the slender swan that I was no doubt meant to be (especially since I have such freakishly skinny wrists and ankles; I never had the luxury of blaming my weight on "big bones"). To me, being heavyset was always such a burden, a plain-and-simple life ruiner. I knew that if I could just shed a few pounds, the problems of my world would be solved! Furthermore, I always swore that when I got skinny, I was going to breeze through life, wearing nothing but a smile and "nobody [was] gonna be able to tell me shit!"

I was wrong. On both counts. Perhaps not so surprisingly, I still wear clothes. Every day. Additionally, I still have problems. I thought that shedding some el bees would be like waving a magic confidence wand that would give me the self-assurance of a supermodel, and make all of my issues disappear. But apparently, it doesn't work like that. Apparently, thirteen years of living under my [annoyingly] skinny parents' roof, constantly being told I "didn't need seconds," or that I needed more exercise and shouldn't eat gravy on my mashed potatoes unfortunately had a lasting effect on me. That, coupled with years of staring in the mirror and being less than thrilled with the freaking fat chick that stole my face looking back at me expectantly (oh yeah, and let's not forget the truly memorable moments, like my eighth grade teacher telling me I had "birthing hips"), resulted in a major doozy of a body image issue (among others, I'm sure).

It's interesting, you hear facts and statistics all the time about obesity in America: 1 in 3 American adults is affected by obesity and every 2 minutes a person in America dies due to weight-related causes. What the statistics don't tell you, however, is just how much obesity and weight problems affect people's psyches, or how those issues get in your head and burrow a deep tunnel to hibernate in and stick around forever. Furthermore, the statistics do not explain how shallow and image-consumed our society is and how not fitting into the classic mold of attractiveness might obliterate a person's self-confidence and self-worth. Did you know that obesity is now considered a disease? Yup, a disease. Now think of all of the side effects and different traumas associated with any other disease that comes to mind. Because to be quite honest, people who suffer from obesity very likely have a lot of the same issues. Obesity isn't always a matter of eating less, or exercising more.

It's really ironic for me now, because people constantly make little comments about my size and how "tiny" I am, or how I need to gain a couple of pounds. If only they knew. I wish it were that simple. But unfortunately, no matter how small I seem to get, when I look in the cursed mirror, that same freaking fat chick is still there. I wish she would hurry up and get the memo that her kind is not wanted around these parts . . . but she never gets the hint. Like the picture below, she's always there, haunting me, reminding me of what I can be again. (Well, not exactly like the picture because I'm brown. But you get the point. Just use your imagination. I wasn't going to get in my skivvies and and take pictures just for the sake of a post. (a) because I'm a lady, for pete's sake, and (b) BECAUSE I HAVE BODY IMAGE ISSUES. Aren't you paying attention?? I guarantee that the me in your imagination looks way better than the real-life me, anyway.)

Source

 So, after 5 paragraphs of self-indulgent oversharing, I'll get to the point . . . hmmm . . . this is slightly embarrassing. It appears that really there was no point, besides the fact that I found the abovementioned article interesting. So I'll leave you with these little nuggets of wisdom:  if you are one of the lucky few that do not have or have never had problems with your weight, you should thank God, Buddha, Allah, or even just your plain old lucky stars, because you are the minority. Obesity has become an epidemic in our country and it's not going away any time soon. So, do your part. Eat right, get active, stay fit, and live and enjoy life as long as possible (so you can keep reading my blog). We aren't leasing these bodies; we're in it for the long haul. What you see is what you get, so make sure you do right by yourself . . . and if that doesn't make you happy . . . maybe you should go see a therapist.* Don't be scared; everybody's doing it. Hell, even if you think you're happy, you should go see a therapist. Believe me, there's definitely something wrong with you. You just haven't discovered it yet. xo

*If the therapist trick still doesn't work, I would recommend a psychiatrist. Even if talking to one doesn't make you happy, at least they can write you prescriptions for drugs that very likely will. So, there's that.

A Rent-a-Center Stock Room, Hairy Knuckles, and a Runaway Jury.

I thought that since I've been so spotty with my posts lately, I should do my due diligence and give you another tidbit for the day. How's about a little afternoon delight? While getting my daily internet news fix, I came across this article about a St. Louis woman who was recently awarded what could possibly be the largest payout ever granted in a sexual harassment case. To the tune of a whopping $95 million!!! For those of you less than enthused over your afternoon reading assignment, this quote from www.nydailynews.com pretty much sums it all up in a nutshell. I boldfaced the key points for your convenience. Listen, I do what I can.

"Alford claimed that the store's then-manager, Richard Moore*, gave her inappropriate nicknames and touched her inappropriately when she first began working there in 2005. Nearly a year after she was hired, she claimed, he came up to her in the stock room and whacked her on the head with his penis. Then, later that day, he lifted her shirt and masturbated over her as he held her down, she said."


Uh . . . okay. I obviously have a lot to say about this. So . . . the inappropriate nicknames and touching wasn't enough of a red flag? You would think she would have started looking for a different job, instead of hanging around for almost a year after her manager touched her in her no-no spot. No? That aside, how exactly do you think he managed to "whack her on the head with his penis"? Is he a giant? Is she some sort of Lilliputian midget? Does he just have an abnormally loooooooong penis that he just unrolls and slings around all willy nilly, face-thumping people whenever he needs some sexual healing (if so, he must be from the Congo)? But that's not even the most intriguing part of the story. What really got me was the last sentence: "then, later that day, he lifted her shirt and masturbated over her as he held her down, she said." Later that day? So, you mean to tell me that she actually stuck around after catching a dick to the head? That wasn't enough for her to walk out? Instead, she hung out, talking people with bad credit and empty bank accounts into renting furniture and appliances, oblivious to the fact that her genitals-wielding manager was lurking in a back corner, waiting to pin her down and blow his load all over her?

Something about this sounds a bit fishy to me. Methinks we're not getting the whole story, here. Not to take sides with a sexual predator or anything, but unless Richard Moore is ambidextrous with the strength of at least five adult males . . . I honestly don't see how things could have gone down as reported. The details are a little fuzzy. Was it a run-by sploogeing? Oh, wait. It couldn't have been, because he held her down. I don't understand! How could he lift her shirt, hold her down and masturbate to the point of climax all at the same time? Sheesh, that guy is talented. I think he's in the wrong industry, leasing analog televisions to the poor. Taking into consideration his meter stick of a penis,** his ambidexterity, and his profound ability to multitask, it sounds to me like ol' [Long] Dick Moore could give Ron Jeremy a run for his money . . . and if you think for a moment that the irony of his name escaped me, you don't know me very well. Richard Moore? Dick Moore? Moore, Dick. Yeah . . . add this guy to the growing list of men whose parents groomed them to be perverts with piss poor name choices. (Have I mentioned lately how much I love alliteration?)

That said, I feel obligated to admit that I would probably withstand getting thunked in the head by pretty much any body part for $95 million. Hell, I'd even settle for the measly $40 million that she will probably end up receiving after all is said and done. I think there's a lesson to be learned here, folks: getting teabagged while trying to do your job isn't so bad if you end up with a $95 million check. Even if you had to take a pearl necklace for the team.

__________________________________________________________________________________

*This story is especially funny because the offender in question just so happens to share a government name with a certain rotund, wall-hugging, weeble wobble of an Executive Hall Monitor VP (with hoity-toity, high-class, fancy pants problems, no less) that I happen to know. In fact, I'm pretty sure that name was the first thing that drew my eye to the article. Well, besides the obvious key words - masturbated, $95 million and genitals. I'm curious about the flagrant fondler's current employment status. Surely he couldn't have left his cushy job selling previously owned merchandise for a lowly Executive VP position in a prosperous corporation, right?! No way it's the same guy. The one I know is WAY too short to have a jungle-man's penis long enough to thunk a  grown ass woman in the head. But it's funny to imagine that they are one and the same. Pretty sure our RM prefers kitty cats, though. Oh well, I digress. That was some good stuff, eh? Nothing like an entertaining story about gennies to get your day going right; that's what I say!


**I really used the word "penis" a lot in this post. It's reminiscent of last week, when I couldn't keep Weiner out of my mouth. Hahaha pun obviously intended. That was the last reference I'll make. For real this time. But seriously, if I make any more references to the male genitalia, you guys are going to think I have some sort of misguided genital obsession. I don't. But I apparently have the maturity of a twelve year old boy, so I giggle at words like "weiner" and "penis." I like to say "penis" like "pen-iss" sometimes, just to be fancy. Oh, you didn't know? Yeah, that's right. I'm fancy. 

Born This Way

One small step for (wo)man . . . one giant step for mankind.

Source

Huzzah! The New York Assembly voted 80-63 to pass a bill legalizing gay marriage yesterday! The bill is now in the hands of the Senate, where 31 senators have gone on record as supporters; 32 approval votes are needed for passage. Fingers crossed they'll realize that the issue isn't about gay marriage; it's just about marriage. In a country that touts a system of equal rights, we have a history of making said rights a matter of subjectivity and convenience - not for the masses, but really more for the elite group of law-making individuals that has the ability to affect our lives with the simple push of a button. The legislative session is due to end next week, so this should come to some sort of rapid resolution. Let's hope New York climbs aboard the gay marriage train. Get with the program, New York! After all, marriage equality is the new black.

Fly Down Memory Lane

I came across this article on http://www.time.com/, and I was just appalled. The long and short of it is that U.S. Airlines collected a whopping $3.4 BILLION in bag fees last year. Right. You heard me. Three. Point. Four. Billion. Dollars. That sounds like a scene from an Austin Powers movie, right? Unfortunately, the airline business appears to have become the nation's own personal Dr. Evil, with Delta leading the pack.

"Delta generated the most revenue from bag fees — $952 million — followed by the combined United and Continental at nearly $655 million. American collected $580 million and US Airways $513 million."

...$952 million? Really?! And perhaps I failed to mention that the total amount collected ($3.4B) marked a twenty-four percent increase in profits from 2009. A 24% increase? I thought we were in a recession! I think you'd be hard pressed to find another industry that can report an increase in profits - much less an increase as significant as 24%. It's just ridiculous. Meanwhile, the airlines are crying broke mouth and complaining about the rise in fuel costs. Hold on, let me put down my violin so I can get the message across. Everyone is struggling with rising fuel costs. It costs me $70+ to fill up my gas tank. We get it. But hiking up the prices on airline tickets wasn't enough? Travelers paying twice the price for fares didn't cushion the blow even just a little bit? I guess not.

This prompted me to really think about what other changes the airlines have made to compensate for the rising costs of the industry. It's time for a flight down memory lane...

Remember when . . .

...your frequent flyer miles actually counted for something? Yeah, you can absolutely still trade in your miles for a flight . . . but no guarantees that the flight will even have "frequent flyer seats" available. Unless you are trying to fly to Minnesota or Maine in the dead of winter (but not during inclement weather, because then you would inevitably be stuck at an airport for a week - if you think the airline is going to foot the bill for a delay due to an act of God . . . think again). Yeah, that's right...just like the time share tours that offer you a free vacation, there are definite scheduling limitations as to what dates you are allowed to travel. Big surprise, those dates are hardly ever convenient to any traveling that you may want to do, nor do they ever fall on a holiday.

...there was a complimentary pillow/blanket set waiting for you at your seat? I mean sure, of course you were scared to use them because they were probably carrying some form of the Gon'die (which implies that if you get it, you gon' die) . . . but at least the choice was yours. You could rest your weary head or choose to pass on the germy cesspools and possible exposure to the Ebola Virus or some random flesh-eating bacteria. Again - your choice. Because they were there waiting for you. Like the little complimentary bottles of shampoo and conditioner at a nice hotel . . . just there if you need 'em.

...airlines fed you during your flight? Yeah, the food was garbage and smelled like rotten baby vomit on a hot summer's day...but at least you got food. Granted, the smell of airplane food almost always made me reach for my complimentary puke pouch (Do they still offer those? Probably for a small fee, eh?), so this is probably the least of my concerns . . . but it's the principle. The hubs and I flew to Hawaii for our honeymoon, which is about a 12 hour trip from the Sunshine State. Don't be alarmed, Continental did feed us; HOWEVER, they fed us a microwaved "chicken sandwich" that made my elementary school cafeteria food look like gourmet, five-star cuisine. No joke, they served it to us still in the bag they microwaved it in. Oh yeah, and I'm pretty sure we got a bag of chips, too. It was super classy. Needless to say, I skipped the worthless calories and sodium and starved myself all the way to Hawaii. So, that was awesome.

...airplanes had a little bit of legroom? Ok, it's not like you could cut cartwheels in between the seats, but people could actually fit their entire person into the seat without having to either (a) hang their legs into the aisle to avoid knee-jacking the person in front of them, or (b) fold themselves into unnatural positions to try to politely keep from accidentally fondling the strangers surrounding them. My favorite aspect of the lack of legroom is during landing when my knees SLAM into the seat in front of me. I'm convinced that my kneecaps will one day shatter on impact and then at least I could skip the line for free in my wheelchair. The seats are so close together now, that I could very clearly spot the older, gay gentleman (I use the term loosely) a few rows up, creeping on young, adolescent boys on his iPad the last time I traveled. True story. He must have felt my shocked and dismayed eyes piercing his perverted soul, because he glanced around casually, spotted me spotting him, and quickly returned his portable perving device to its rightful home in his murse.

...you could actually make your way down the main aisle to your seat without inadvertantly setting your ass on some unsuspecting stranger's shoulder? I'm pretty small, and I can't seem to ever get to my seat anymore with having to apologize profusely to numerous people for booty bumping them in the face. How do bigger people do it? Especially the ones that already have to buy two seats. Speaking of which, has that rule always existed? Or just since the airlines switched out the old, quasi-normal-sized seats out for anorexic midget seats? I wonder about that.

...the overhead bins were large enough to fit all of the carry-on bags of the passengers on the plane? I can't decide if the bins themselves have actually gotten smaller (along with the aisles, the seats, the sodas, and the amount of legroom), or if people have just started cramming as much junk as possible into their carry-ons in an effort to avoid those ridiculously over-priced baggage fees. Good news is, I've discovered that they don't charge you when you have to gate check your bag because there isn't sufficient room in the overhead bins. Don't tell anyone; it'll be our little secret.

I could go on and on. Travel, overall, has become just a huge violation. Your wallet gets violated when you purchase your ticket. The airline comes back for some more wallet sodomy when you check your bag (unless you fly Southworst, of course). Then there's the double (if you're lucky, like me) violation/molestation at the security checkpoint (I'm confident that Wanda, the lovely TSA agent who blessed me with a very thorough pat down and I are now going steady), and the long string of blatant violations that follow. I miss the good ol' days when traveling was an experience, rather than a chore (a chore accompanied by an unsolicited manhandling of the semi-sexual nature). Maybe if the airlines make another several billion dollar profit off of us poor economy class peons this year, we'll begin to see some sort of improvement that would make flying a more enjoyable investment . . . but I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you.

STILL. MORE. WEINER.

Just when you think the story can't get any worse . . . you find out there's a little weiner involved. . .*

Source

. . . and he KNEW. 

Shit just got real. Real(ly) complicated, that is. Should we take bets on whether or not she should stay? I feel really bad for this poor woman. Lord knows, she has probably had her fill of Weiner (I just can't help myself; it's too easy). Between all of the obnoxious headlines (touché - I totally grouped my titles in with that blanket "obnoxious;" I'll be the first to admit it), all of the random naughty pictures and the raunchy Facebook chats . . . she has to have had about as much Weiner as she can take. (How many times can I possibly use the word "weiner" in a sentence, with some sort of clever double entendre? The possibilities are seriously endless here. It's like a new game for me.) This has to be an incredibly difficult time. It's easy to say that she should leave that coozehound . . . but when there's a child involved . . . that's probably a lot easier said than done.

On top of everything else, and to add even more insult to [his] injury, Weiner now faces further probing (hehe) from the Ethics Committee:

'"Weiner will have to reveal to the ethics committee the names of the others with whom he's exchanged sex-text images," said a former House prober.'**

. . . I'm gonna go ahead and put it all out there. That "former House prober" (which, ironically, sounds awfully kinky to me) has got to have some sort of affiliation to the Republican/Tea[bag] Party. Either that, or (s)he's British. "Sex-text images"? Hahaha! It's so proper! That's like how my mom calls an ATM an "ATM Machine" or a cell phone a "cellular phone." Let's get to the real nitty gritty of the situation.

Listen, Weiner. You're gonna have to cop to who you've been fuc sexting . . . and if you have, indeed, been "misusing [your] official resources" . . .

So, there you have it. The latest and greatest of Weinergate. Whew. I'm worn out! It's way past my bedtime and that was a lot of "weiners." I'm going to bed.***

*Come on. You already knew this would be filled with tongue in cheek weiner references. If you were over it, you should have probably just skipped this post. I've gone rogue with the weiners. See how quickly that just happened? You were just minding your own business, when WHAM! I hit you in the face with another weiner. Yup.  Lucky for you, this is that kind of post.

**Quote taken from www.newyorkpost.com. Remember? It's only my new favorite place to find the good stuff! Apparently they can't get enough weiner, either.

***I know, I know. I'm sorry. Weiner's been getting all of my attention lately. I'm going to try really hard to blog about something else tomorrow...but I can't make any promises. This Weiner stuff is way too juicy. Yikes. My double entendres might have just officially gotten out of control. That one scared me a little. Too much, right? Maybe that really is my cue to just leave well enough alone. I'm sure people will eventually grow tired of obsessing over Weiner's weiner and this too, will pass. I think it's safe to say that I wore Weiner out over the past three days. Yeah...it's probably time to move on. All the weiners are getting to be too much. ...okay. I really am done now.

Can't Get Enough Weiner!

Hahaha! At the sake of sounding redundant, I would like to revisit Weinergate. Humor me. This is my newest obsession (besides Casey Anthony, but that's a whole 'nother side of deviance). I have been poring over the New York Post, getting all of the latest and greatest dirt on the big weiner, Weiner...and I do it all for you. I found an amazing wealth of hilarity and decided I MUST share.*

I have to say - I am enamored with the thoroughness of the reporting on the NY Post - this is totally going to be my go-to source for all the good juice.  Basically, the NY Post is launching a full-on attack on Weiner and his indiscretions. It's pretty great; I'll give you the highlights. Let's begin with who Weiner compares himself to:

He told her he was a "caped crusader . . . looking for my sidekick."

"[I'm] dying of boredom over here. Plus my tights really itch, I need a distraction," the hot, bothered -- and very married -- Rep. Anthony Weiner shot off to sexy Vegas blackjack dealer Lisa Weiss in one of more than lewd 220 sexts and Facebook messages between the revved-up pair since Aug. 13.

Hmmm...first off, I'm a little confused as to his reasoning for comparing himself to Batman. That's just weird. Batman saves people's lives - he doesn't badger them with his perversity. Maybe it wasn't specifically Batman, maybe he just likes to wear capes and stuff and fancies himself some sort of superhero. I think that if he had a costume, it would look something like this:**

Okay and I don't know about you . . . but I'm curious as to why his tights itch. Was that supposed to be sexy? That sounds more like a warning, to me. Your tights itch? That's a personal problem that you might want to get checked out. While you're at it, lose my number. I don't want any parts of your itchy crotch. Thanks.

Now let's move on to what this weiner is doing to earn your tax dollars:

"He admitted to "jerking off" to her Facebook photos, said Weiss, 40, a former Democratic Party worker...Weiss told the Web site that most of the duo's sexed-up exchanges occurred during his work hours -- and that Weiner used his office phone for at least some of them. She said they fired back and forth 69 messages during just one sleazy exchange.

Gosh. I sure am glad I pay my taxes. I mean, we all dick around at work sometimes, but this takes gives that phrase a whole new meaning. With all this sexting going on, how did he have time to do anything pertinent to his job as a House Representative? I feel bad for his constituents.

Moving on, how about him offering PR advice to one of his little ladies (pun intended; this chick is an undergrad...and obviously not a lady) No, really.

As the crotch-shot scandal exploded around him, panicking Rep. Anthony Weiner coached a porn star pal to lie about their sexually-charged online relationship, even offering professional PR advice, it was reported Tuesday..."Do you need to talk to a professional PR type person to give u advice?," Weiner emailed Lee on June 2, according to the gossip website TMZ.com. "I can have someone on my team call. [Yeah, my team is doing great. Ugh]."

Um...I feel like he should have listened to his own advice. I'm pretty sure the first basic rules of PR when addressing a catastrophe of epic proportions and attempting to do damage control are:

1. Address/admit to the problem. 
2. Apologize profusely. 
3. Explain what you will do to fix it or make it better. 
4. End of conversation.

None of this crying and moaning and personal pouty pity party in front of the nation. Oh, poor you. Your PR guys botched the job, eh? You feel like shit (because you got caught) but don't plan to resign, huh? We'll see how that works out for you.

Next, let's discuss what was said. Here's a gander at a FB message exchange.

Talking Dirty

March 16 Facebook message exchange with middle-aged Nevada Democratic volunteer Lisa Weiss:

WEINER: ridiculous bulge in my shorts now. wanna see?

WEISS: Yea! can u send a pic? I want to sit on your c- -k so bad right now.

WEINER: jeez, im rushing. let me take a quick pic

WEISS: awesome . . . how do I get it? right on here?

WEISS: how r u gonna go to work with a raging hard on?

WEINER: it wont go away. and now im taking pics of it, making me harder still

WEISS: so hot! u are making me wet again.

WEINER: jeez, i have to go. ill hit you later

WEINER: off to the shower. this thing is bobbing up and down

WEISS: aahhh . . . wish I was in the shower with you to help

WEINER: you give good head?

WEISS: Ive been told really good . . . and i love doing it

WEINER: wow a jewish girl who sucks [bleep]. this thing is ready to do damage

...yeah. These messages are real. Real ridiculous, that is. Bahahaha! "This thing is ready to do damage." This thing? What thing do you speak of? Your weiner, or this conversation? What an idiot. He didn't learn from Arnold or Tiger? Women don't keep secrets well. At all. You can pretty much guarantee that any woman is going to tell at least one other person. I guess in situations like this, you just have to cross your fingers and pray that the one person she does tell is not a member of the news media.

...and now,  for the Grand Weiner Finale...(drumroll please)...LET'S SEE THAT INFAMOUS CROTCH SHOT!

Haha! Talk about the battle of the bulge. I guess I'm not as impressed as Breitbart was, so I'll refrain from comment. However, this picture again begs the questions - how could Breitbart confirm that the picture was indeed of Weiner? I mean, it's obviously a picture of a weiner, but how do we know it was Weiner's weiner? Inquiring minds would like to know.

In closing, Representative Weiner, I salute you. I like that you're an equal opportunity pervert and unlike Tiger, there was a bit of diversity within your bevy of bitches. That aside, I'm pretty sure you're going to go down in the books as the biggest weiner in history. Good for you! Now go put your cape on and start saving some people; you caped crusader, you. *wink wink*

*All excerpts and images taken from http://www.newyorkpost.com/
**Special thanks to SNL's Ambiguously Gay Duo for the inspiration behind the image on the Weiner Crusader's costume
***Triple thanks to Christian Bale for being the hottest Caped Crusader...ever.

Spotted! Weiner's Weiner*

Forgive me for neglecting you, but it's been a busy three days. I won't bore you with the minutia, I'll just jump right in.

Let's talk about Weinergate, shall we?

Representative Anthony Weiner (D-NY) retracted his initial claim that his Twitter account had been hacked and admitted this afternoon that he sent a lewd picture to a young woman as claimed. Interestingly, I'm not surprised. Additionally, he admitted that this was not the first time (and sadly, probably not the last) that he has done so, AND he admitted to explicit conversations with six women over the past three years (overshare?). "A" for sticktuitiveness, though...amidst all of the name-calling and overall general disdain, Weiner says he is embarrassed, but does not plan to retire. Read the article in its entirety here (because Fox News is so reliable, but whatever).

I guess Weiner just couldn't keep his weiner to himself. My favorite part of this article is where [BigGovernment.com publisher] Andrew Breitbart confirmed that the photos appeared to be Weiner, stating, "He's in very good shape." PAUSE. Was that envy I detected, or does somebody want himself some Weiner?? Things that make you go "hmmm..."

I hate to laugh at someone else's misfortune (who am I kidding?), but this is hilarious. I guess his advisors told him to take the "all or nothing" approach, eh? Next he'll be confessing to a college "phase" he went through where he dabbled in erotic asphyxiation and beastiality. Sheesh. What is going on with the politicians in New York?! First the Spitzer prostitution ring scandal, and now this? Those guys are obviously thinkin' with the wrong heads in the Big Apple. Additionally, am I the only person that finds irony in both of these offenders' names? Weiner? Spitzer? ...and why does it always have to be the young girls? Do you think that people would be more willing to overlook and forgive indiscretions if perhaps the women involved were of drinking age (okay, slight overexaggeration)? I think it would help a little bit...but just a little. The icing on the cake for me was during the press conference, with one reporter shouting repeatedly, "She was young enough to be your daughter!!" Hahaha consider yourself judged, ya weiner.

I think it's safe to say that Weiner is now wishing he'd kept his weiner to himself. Luckily for him, his wife of one year (sad, but true), is an aide in Secretary of State Hillary Clinton's office. Maybe Weiner will get lucky and she'll seek relationship advice from Hillary. We all know where she tends to stand on matters of adultery, right?

I'll leave you with a Weiner quote I found on Wikipedia. You know how people play that game where you read your fortune aloud and add "in bed" after it? Let's play that game with this quote, and swap out all of the "it"s with the phrase "my weiner"...

 "I push people pretty hard [with my weiner]... I have nothing but love for people who endured it my weiner, even if they endured it my weiner for a short period of time."

Enough said.


*Let me apologize [in advance] for my excessive use of weiners the word weiner. It just couldn't be helped.

Love Notes, Revisited

Ho hum. I just can't seem to shake the post-birthday blues. Hopefully this won't last too long. Don't worry, until it blows over, I'm avoiding country music, razor blades and the roof. This too, shall pass. Ha! Moving on - I hardly had enough personality to blog today. Luckily I have such an overabundance of personality, that there's still a tiny bit left. Definitely enough to share this random funny. I mean, personality or not, I like to laugh. Thanks to @sarahsilverman for bringing it to my attention!

Remember when we talked about the fun to be had with writing angry letters? They probably don't ever accomplish anything besides giving the recipient (who is typically a douche nozzle) a good laugh (and maybe getting some random complimentary bullshit in hopes of retaining your business), but they sure as hell make you feel a lot better, amiright? If something or someone pisses me off, the only way I can move on (after obsessing about it for hours, undoubtedly) is if someone gets a piece of my mind. Especially if it was a business-oriented offense, where I was expecting some sort of service and all I got was a huge disservice. Well, here is a classic example of an angry letter that just had me in stitches. I love people like this. Eugene Mirman and I are definitely kindred spirits. Don't hold back! Tell it like it is! Assert your obviously superior intelligence while emphasizing the offender's lack thereof. But you can't be all-out nasty when writing business-related hate mail. Nope, people with class wage war on intelligence and the un-met expectation of good service (in most cases; there are definitely some exceptions where nothing will do besides a good, rousing, F bomb).* No, I will most certainly NOT give crib notes for this one. Read it! Thank me afterwards.

Source

...and that, my lovelies, is how you write a business-related nastygram. Hahahaha! Loves it!
____________________________________________________________________________________
*I don't have anything against the "F" word. Hell, I use it every day and I'm still a fucking lady.  

Whatever LOLA wants, LOLA gets...

I would say Happy Hump Day, but mine has been less than stellar this morning and it's not so happy. So I'm just gonna skip the typical chipper greeting and get right to it. Does anyone else watch Law and Order: Los Angeles (LOLA)?? I apparently caught the Law and Order bug sometime around my freshman year of college. I think I liked it so much because it was ALWAYS on! I could wake up and watch it on TNT, and then it would be on USA all day long. I can't even tell you how many L&O marathons I've had whilst laying in bed (when I should have been in class), munching on some sort of tasty snack (yes, I am one of those people whose guilty pleasure (among other things) is eating in bed). So, needless to say, I was delighted when good ol' dependable Dick Wolf (What a name! If he were American-Indian, I'd like to think his name would be reversed to Wolf Dick. Hehehe 'cause it makes me giggle.) came through with yet another addition to the L&O family (although I've heard that [not so] sadly, LOLA didn't make the cut and will not be renewed for a second season). So, I of course set my dvr to record the entire season.

HOWEVER, last night, I tuned into the newest episode and I was pissed. LOLA committed a huge faux pas and now I don't know if I can continue to watch it. I hate it when shows/networks do things like replace an actor who plays a major character (they do it most often on soap operas, I think) without warning, or have one actor make two different guest appearances as different characters (which actually does happen sometimes on L&O, but it's hard to call because there are so many of them, you can't remember which L&O the actor was on), or change major parts of the storyline because they don't do their research on archived episodes. The most blatant offense I've witnessed to date was an extremely old episode from the first season of 90210 where Donna Martin's mother was named Nancy and was played by a different actress than the woman who played her mother for the remaining duration of the series...oh yeah, and her name was Felice. Everybody knows Donna's mom's name was Felice, right??!? Well, I'm not making this up. Apparently, Donna's sweet mom Nancy's soul was eaten by this imposter Felice after Season One and nobody noticed (except me). Super convenient. But I digress. Back to LOLA.

So I watched Monday night's episode, "Plummer Park," which my Uverse® info swears first aired on 05/30/2011 . . . and Skeet Ulrich was on it. *blink blink blink* For those of you who do watch, I'm sure you can understand my confusion (spoiler alert!). Yeah, that's right. Confusion. Because Skeet Ulrich's character, Detective Rex Winters, was killed off by a Mexican druglord in the first post-hiatus episode, "Zuma Canyon," which aired on 04/11/2011. Who does that?!? Ugh. Additionally, instead of Connie Rubirosa, it was that less talented ADA, ol' whatever her name is. *SIGH* To my chagrin, this episode was obviously aired out of sequence, which I personally think was an unforgiveable oversight. All that says to me is that instead of being concerned with the quality of their programming, the producers were more interested in making their post-hiatus premiere "sexy" with the death of one of the two good looking men on the show main characters (not to mention the only other actor besides Terence Howard that any of us really gave a crap about). Epic fail. Good job, NBC. Way to ostracize one of the ten loyal viewers you had left. No wonder this poor excuse for a L&O spinoff is getting cancelled.

Well, this blog (again) turned out to be a lot longer than expected. So, I will bid you [and LOLA] adieu. Hopefully my day will improve and with it, my mood. But no promises. Love ya, mean it.