Take me out of the ball game.

Mother. F-cker.

I just wrote a GIANT blog post, and then it VANISHED!!!! I am devastated. I guess I’ll just do it again.

I think football has officially taken the number two seat on my “most hated sports” list, being replaced with gusto by baseball. It’s so boring. I don’t understand how people watch it. It’s like watching someone make a bed. But for six hours. It’s like watching a maid make beds for six hours. America’s favorite pastime, get out. Baseball does not pass time. Time passes it. Now, live at a baseball field, maybe I can see it—there’s beer, gluey nacho “cheese,” people watching, hooting and hollering—fine. But baseball on television? That’s torture. I’d rather watch the Catholic Channel.

People keep saying things to me like, “GASP – you don’t like baseball?! But you live in St. Louis!”  I don’t care if I live on the moon, baseball is not going to get any more exciting because of my geographical location.  “You’d better learn to like it if you’re going to live here,” they say. No. I won’t. The world series is interrupting my X Factor schedule, and that is the only glimpse of baseball I will be catching on purpose, f’real.

I haven’t written a blog post in forty-five years. I forgot my log-in information. It’s been a while. I’ve been busy cooking, exercising, and failing at baking. “Cooking? YOU!?” I know. One year ago my diet was made up almost entirely of Velveeta shells & cheese, spaghetti, cereal, McDonald’s, and Chinese takeout. I’m not sure how I didn’t turn into Kirstie Alley. Somehow I managed to maintain a normal physique. This year however, I am cooking up a storm! Salmon, tilapia, broccoli, sweet potatoes, squashes of all sorts, shrimp, chicken, brussels sprouts, quesadillas, salsas—WOO! I’m actually pretty good at it. Baking though, that’s a whole other “ball game.”

HA! Get it? I say “ball game,” because like baseball, it’s f-cking terrible. I’m not sure why. It’s disastrous. Recently I got the recipe for these incredible chocolate chip cookies made with Jello to make them extra soft and moist and delicious. I went out and got all the ingredients, and set myself up in the kitchen to get to baking. Have you ever had those biscuits at Red Lobster? Well they came out like those. Except not, because those biscuits are terrific, and these cookies sucked. They had a biscuit-like texture. They were like chocolate chip English muffins. What’s worse is that the recipe yielded over 70 of these non-cookies. I was depressed.

Next I attempted butterscotch oatmeal cookies. Easy enough, right? Apparently not, because mine turned out flat and runny. You had to eat them with a fork. I’m not joking. They still tasted good at least, unlike my Red Lobster Cheddar cookies. Nobody will be calling me Betty Crocker any time soon. At least as far as cookies are concerned; for whatever reason, I have had luck with cakes, so at least there’s that.

Halloween is right around the corner. This is the first year I am living in a house in a high traffic neighborhood and not in a dark, seedy apartment, meaning children by the dozen will be stopping by expecting fistfuls of candy. Or iPods and iTunes gift cards, whatever it is this spoiled, greedy generation expects from strangers on insignificant holidays these days. To avoid what happened last year, I have already purchased two large sacks of bulk candy. One of those bags is filled with Twix bars. Purchasing it ten days in advance may have been a major mistake. We’ll see how many of those Twix bars are left come Halloween night. I’m a bit of an addict. Once that bag is torn open, there’s no telling what might happen. If I binge eat all those Twix bars, I guess I’ll just have to hand out batteries.

I think it would be funny to hand out ice cream sandwiches. At first the kiddos would be like, “Aw yeah!! Score,” initially not recognizing the negative consequence of stuffing frozen treats into their sticky trick-or-treat bags, until they get home and find their Reese’s cups and mini Snickers floating in a soupy vanilla ice cream puddle.

I’m twisted.

WELL, I would write more but I’ve already written all this twice. I hope I didn’t forget any funny, snarky comments I had in the first one. Sigh.

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A:  “I need to charge my phone.”

C:  “Well, I would let you plug yours in but mine is currently plugged in. How low is your battery? I need a number. Give me a percentage.”

A:  “57.”

C:  “Okay, mine is like 96, so I guess you can charge yours.”

The scent of a woman.

I keep snapping my head from left to right and nosing the air after catching whiffs of something really fresh and delicious smelling. *Sniff sniff*–what is that fantastic smell? I wonder. Then I realize it’s me. More specifically, it’s my shirt, because Tide laundry detergent + Febreze is the elixir of life and Proctor & Gamble’s gift to the world. Every article of clothing comes out smelling like what I imagine David Beckham smells like. My clothing emits a delightful, welcoming and comforting aroma of freshness like a field of wild flowers on a spring afternoon. I want to eat my shirt. It’s irresistible. I recommend it.

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Coincidentally, I just logged onto Yahoo News to find other shit to write about, and the first story that caught my eye was the following:

http://news.yahoo.com/blogs/trending-now/tide-detergent-being-stolen-stores-across-country-162253268.html;_ylt=Aiht5k2xXggiSp4Ij_KL3yKs0NUE;_ylu=X3oDMTNqbW1zNWxxBGNjb2RlA2N0LmMEcGtnA2IyNGRiMDM5LTBkYTAtM2M5Yi1iY2NjLTYxYTA4ZmIzMzQ3OQRwb3MDMgRzZWMDbW9zdF9wb3B1bGFyBHZlcgNjYTEwOTlhMC02ZGQ2LTExZTEtOGZhMy02YjdhZjM5NTU4MjM-;_ylg=X3oDMTFrM25vcXFyBGludGwDdXMEbGFuZwNlbi11cwRwc3RhaWQDBHBzdGNhdAMEcHQDc2VjdGlvbnMEdGVzdAM-;_ylv=3

^ People stealing Tide. Haha. It’s not about the drugs, Yahoo. It’s about the heavenly smelling Tide.

Tide + Downy is also orgasmic. Try them both, choose for yourself.

The Voice continues to grab me by the balls. I love this show. I also love Adam Levine’s face, eyes, mouth, and body. That is when I’m not so distracted by Christina Aguilera’s bazoongas to see it. What the f-ck is up with Cee Lo Green and his giant white cat?

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Am I watching The Voice or Austin Powers? The cat’s name is Mr. Purrfect. Unbelievable. One second I’m watching a very intense singing competition, and the next second I’m watching Cee Lo Green stroke his white cat in his red silk pajamas and make commentary on the show like it’s perfectly normal. He’s doing it to f-ck with everyone. Haha.

There is perhaps nothing more frightening than having a full bottle of soda erupt in your face while driving 80 miles per hour down the interstate in the winding, snowy mountains. The other day after five hours of intense snowboarding, my brother and I stopped at a 7/11 to get some garbage to put into our bodies to not help it recover from all the aggressive physical activity we put them through that day. We picked up some Doritos, Dr. Peppers, and Cadbury Eggs, gassed up the car and hit the road. About five minutes into the drive, I asked Richard to pass me my Dr. Pepper with much anticipation. With my knee on the steering wheel, I twisted the cap, and like Mt. St. Helens in 1980, it violently exploded all over the driver’s side of the car with the fury of a thousand volcanoes. I was literally dripping in Dr. Pepper from head to toe. I have no idea what happened. It was never shaken, bumped, or disturbed. Richard stared at me with his mouth agape. We were so confused.

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“I don’t even know what’s going on right now,” he said. Haha. I was pissed. My coat, pants, face, lap, seat, center console, door, and steering wheel were coated in sticky pop. What happened, Bill Nye? Did the cashier pull a prank on me? I did make her go through a bit of trouble with manufacturer’s coupons during the checkout……what a bitch.

Anyway, time for me to go paint my nails. I’m becoming a nail painting addict. It’s fine. Gotta keep my game tight, knowhadamsayne?

BYE!

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“Imagine your dick as a bus. Even a small bus is still a huuuge bus. You know?”

Bearly there.

A television repair man working in New Jersey found a black bear in a customer’s basement. Apparently the bear had decided to hibernate in this old dude’s home.

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Can anyone explain to me how in the world a bear gets into someone’s house without them noticing? Rather, can anyone explain to me how a bear gets into someone’s house AT ALL? How does this happen?  Mice? Sure. Small and sneaky. Bats? They find their way in every now and again. Snakes too. Even birds—sometimes you get a bird in your house somehow, but a 500 pound BEAR? Did Smoky the Bear just waltz up to the front door, open it, and mosey down stairs with a sleeping bag to set up camp for the winter? Did Yogi just sneak in while old ass Dale was lethargically carrying in groceries, leaving the door open behind him? I don’t understand how something like this happens.

In other news, after a long search for my desperately sought-after 2008 Jeep Grand Cherokee Limited, I had finally found a few prospects on AutoTrader.com and Craigslist. Trent had been in Pennsylvania behind me for a couple weeks and would be returning the day before our Cancun trip, and I had been in Iowa looking online. We had come across a few, but they never ended up working out. Finally, one on Craigslist in Des Moines was looking like the perfect Jeep, and we had just one day to go check it out before we went to Mexico for a week. I get up that day and get ready, and wait for Trent to roll in from PA so we can hit the road.

The dogs start going ballistic, signaling that he had arrived, so I head to the front door to greet him before heading to Des Moines. I catch a glimpse out the window on my way down the stairs of a shiny, beastly, pearly black Jeep in the driveway. The trickery! He had had one the whole time. WOO!

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I run outside to go fondle my new vehicle. It is so lovely. I want to put my tongue on it. Fully loaded with navigation, a Hemi, 18s, leather seats, you name it. I am thrilled. I immediately fire her up to go for a test drive, opening the back door for Raleigh to come with. My dog then jumps in and immediately throws up in the back seat.

Anyway, in order to protect those lovely chromies from the harsh winter salty roads, we got some matte black rims for the cold season. All murdered out.

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Goodbye, Blazer. I will not be missing you. Well, time for me to go shhhnowboarding. Ta ta for now, boys and girls.

And trannies. I haven’t forgotten about you.

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B:   How’s that Jay-Z/Kanye concert going?

A:   Wild. The blacks are going wild.

B:   Haha. Great. Do you feel out of place since you’re not hooting and hollering and humping?

A:   Yes…all of the blacks ran to the front row of my section. I’m just sitting behind them. Haha.

B:   Typical.

A:   This arena just became a Baptist church; he’s singing “Jesus Walks.”

B:   hahaha. Excellent.

A:   The blurry man in the right corner is going to wild he might jump off this balcony.

Wiggity wiggity wiggity WHACK!

I am filled with tacos, and am now plunging into this night’s episode of The X Factor. I will be simultaneously blogging along while I view the show. Spoiler alert for those of you who got drunk instead and are planning on watching it on the ol’ DVR.

Boys group goes first. LA Reid opens with “The Astronomical Kid.”

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Well, everyone pack your bags and go home. How can anyone follow up little “Astro” Brian Bradley after killing it with a Kriss Kross song? He absolutely murdered everyone before they even got a chance to perform. It’s unbelievable. For a kid his age and in the genre that he’s dealing in, there are so many opportunities for him to get slammed. But there is just nothing to pick at. There is no room for criticism. He owns it every single time.

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Holy makeup, Chris Rene. I’m sure you didn’t do it to yourself, but I’m surprised you could even move your face at all with the cement sidewalk made out of foundation that you had piled on your face. You looked like the fake robotic Santa from The Santa Clause 2 with Tim Allen.

Any last words before you leave tonight, Phillip?  “Yeah, it’s just really a shame that I’m going home tonight. I guess I just wasn’t black enough for LA Reid’s team.”  That’s what he should have said. Haha. Geez. “Believer?” Come on, LA. He may as well have sung “Yankee Doodle Dandy” or “Jingle Bells.” He had no chance.

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Ah, and Marcus. Marcus, you have the voice of an angel, but I still think Brian dominated everyone like little school girls tonight. You’re a solid number two.

I called the lineup to a T. Sorry, Lomax. This just wasn’t your scene. Next to go home will be Chris Rene. Sorry brother, it’s just written in the stars.

Up next is the groups. Not my favorite category, and by not my favorite I mean my least favorite category. By far. I’m not into groups. I haven’t been into groups since The Spice Girls and BBMak. I’m sure Stereo Hogzz will win, but that’s because they’re the only tolerable group out of the entire bunch. To be honest, I can’t even remember any of the other groups, because they are that forgettable. What’s that girl group? Lakoda Rayne? What are they going to follow that up with, “Next Time He Cheats?”  Not great. Also, awful name.

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“Intensity.”  Just send these kids to Nickelodeon already. They need to be doing Glee style plays, not making records. Also, what’s up with that white, blonde girl without the eyebrows? I don’t understand why they couldn’t just pencil some brows in there. They could have just spent 30 seconds less on Chris Rene and fixed her brows. Was that too much to ask?

Uhh….Nicole? Have you been “borrowing” Paula’s pain meds? “You’re just my pumpkin patch of yummy pumpkins!”  Are you serious? You’re starting to freak me out. Too much cooing, oohing, ahhing, “honey”ing and all around weirdness. Go back to just being sexy. You’re good at that.

And into the over 30s. Always a wild card. If Dexter doesn’t go back to banging on buckets on the streets and sleeping in his car, there’s no hope left on this show. I mean, I get that he’s a lovable goof, but a five million dollar winning recording artist? No chance in hell. The Gaga-esque dancers on his set tonight? Everything is just wrong.

Also, I want to Febreze his hair. Can people with dreds and wild black hair Febreze it? I feel like it wouldn’t be a bad thing. (Moving on).

I don’t know why these girls haven’t figured out that they need to be wearing waterproof mascara yet on this show. The last thing I would want on national television is to be looking like Courtney Love just hit by a car after a night of heroin. (That’s what I look like with my mascara running down my face, making me look like a melting raccoon).

LeRoy and Stacy perform. Stacy is good. LeRoy is likable. Dexter gets the boot. There is a God.

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The girls open with Simone. I hate her. She does this “Uh! Yeah. Hey! Come awn everybody!” shit too much. It’s unbearable. Her voice is mediocre at best. She’s pretty, but tacky, cheap, fake, and annoying. Her performance was terrible. I liked nothing about it. I feel like I’m in the 21st century twilight zone of confusion with Dexter Haygood right now trying to understand how she even made it this far. Is Simon Cowell pulling a prank on the USA? You’ve got us, Simon. April Fools.

Rachel Crowe, you little fire ball. I really enjoy this child’s voice. I wasn’t thrilled about the song choice for her tonight however, especially since Drew Rxs$wyzc rocked it so much better in the auditions. Weak sauce. I feel like Simon chose this song on purpose to have an excuse to send her home (at this point I don’t know who is being sent home). Swap the ice cream cone out for the microphone more often though Rach, and it will help your career. I’m not saying this to be mean. I’m saying this to help you.

Drew, your voice is angelic. Keep on keepin’ on. Fourteen years old. Yikes.

Aaaaand Tia Tolliver. She grinds my gears. The girl is driven, but she cannot sing in tune. Period. Simon just likes her because she’s plastic and commercial. He can cut and paste and decorate and make her pass as a pop star. Plus she’s a biologocical Nicki Minaj clone. Immediately off key. No surprise there. CAN SHE NOT HEAR HERSELF?!?!?! Ugh. She needs to be kicked off the stage.

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MELANIE!!!!! Melanie is so incredible. Just raw talent and a solid powerhouse. Nothing can stop my tears from flowing every time I hear her sing. Let me just say this though—last episode I said, “Slap a weave on her and she’s ready to go!”  And what do we have this episode but a brand new rockin’ head of hair. Haha.

Simon has to send two bitches home. Pretty easy if you ask me: Tia and Simone need to go back to slobbing on knobs and making sandwiches. Unfortunately, Simon likes the skanks. WHAT’S GOING TO HAPPEN?! If Melanie doesn’t make it through, I will shoot all of my neighbors and then myself.

…and Tia and Simone. You know, before I off myself obviously.

Here it comes…the decision.

It’s between Tia, Simone, and Melanie. I swear, I SWEAR if it’s not Melanie, I will go APE SHIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The crowd is cheering MELANIE! (x23402)

THANK GOD!!!!!! It’s Melanie. I don’t have to murder anyone and I can continue to enjoy the show. Goodnight everyone.

Drink Pepsi.

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C:   “I wish Simon was my friend so I could just text him quick and ask who made it through. I hate waiting.”

The Golden Age.

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don’t let anger ruin your life

^ Another search term that someone used that landed them on my blog. Clearly they came to the wrong place. If anger didn’t consume my life, I would have very little to talk about. You’re welcome.

Drove by (okay, through) McDonald’s today. Looks like the McRib is back. When are they going to stop crying wolf about the McRib? Every time it comes out, it’s “out for a limited time ONLY!”  McDonald’s is to the McRib as Brett Favre is to football. Either retire it or don’t, McFavre.

We only have 3 more days to play McDonald’s Monopoly, boys and girls. This means that I have a legitimate excuse to go overboard with large fries and medium Dr. Peppers this weekend other than “I’m fat” or “I deserve it.” My amigo Alison, myself, and my cross-country friend Mr. Kocourek decided to join forces to increase our odds of winning.

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I would like to win a million dollars. If that’s not possible, I’d like to win fifty-thousand dollars. If that’s not possible, I’d like to win a car so I can sell it for twenty-thousand dollars. If that’s not possible, I’d like to win free McDonald’s french fries for the rest of my life. If that’s not possible, then this isn’t America.

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I am ghost-like. My tan is fading rapidly. I am beginning to resemble a person in hospice. All the colorful life draining out of my flesh, death slowly taking over. I need to start tanning. I am leery of sunless tanning lotion. A girl I know has been using it just on her face and neck, and she looks like a bronze goddess. The only problem is, I imagine that when she is not clothed, her tan head looks like a brown paper sack on a white ghost body. Then again, it’s not like I’m parading around in the nude for everyone to see my color progression. At least not on weekdays.

I recently dug through about a thousand old photo albums from my late high school/early college years. Boy are they something. I was fatter, drunker, and whiter, if you can believe it. I don’t understand how we all partied like we did back in those days. We were unstoppable binge drinking machines. Nothing could get us down. Not even a .34 blood alcohol content or the police.

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In those days we would start drinking at 2 pm, doing beer bongs in the shower while we got ready, and taking shots well into the night. Somewhere in the midst of blacking out and doing keg stands, we would rally a gang to go tearing through Taco Bell in a loud, drunken stupor, barfing all over their single stall bathroom and stealing an unnecessary amount of mild sauce packets. We would scream with disbelief when bar-close came around, complaining with excessive foul language that the night was still young, returning to our respective dorms/apartments and continue to throw booze down our pie holes, blaring DMX at an ungodly decibel until 3 or 4 in the morning when we finally decided to go to bed.

Now I have two drinks, I’m hammered, and I sneak away and go to bed. I even get hung over. How did this happen? Next thing you know, we’ll be applying for social security. Olds.

WELL, time to go. Goodbye everyone.

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“That’s the hot water, turn it off! TURN IT OFF!”

“I’m SORRY, I’m not used to using my foot as a HAND!”

Pillow talk.

I was driving down the road today when I thought of something funny to write about. Being that I was manning a sports utility vehicle at the time, I didn’t have the means, nor the opportunity to jot it down. “I’ll remember it later,” I said.

I didn’t.

Alright, Lauren Conrad. You have sucked at life on your annoying reality tv shows in good old California, and for that, you are on my shit list. However, your Kohl’s clothing line has nearly completely redeemed you. Great threads. Just great. So much lace and chiffon and lovely neutrals and dusty roses and OH the goods. I need six million dollars to spend on trendy clothes. Someone win me the lottery.

It was decided that our pillows were in need of replacing finally. What once were fluffy, springy, puffs of comfort are now flat, lumpy, lifeless sacks of sadness. We needed new ones. After drooling uncontrollably over Lauren Conrad’s clothing line at Kohl’s, I made my way back to the bedding and started looking at the pillows. I didn’t know where to start. Shopping for new pillows is a daunting task. You stand there trying to hunch down and rest your head on the pillow which is enclosed in a plastic bag, then you start squeezing it with your hands in an attempt to gauge the firmness, except that doesn’t work because no one ever squeezes their pillows between their palms. What does this pillow feel like?! You stress. How does it compare to my old faithful?! AHHH!!!!!

Frustrating.

I went with a medium and a firm. The medium was a mistake. It swallows my head like an angel food cake made of down. Should have gotten two firms. Good thing Kohl’s has a rockin’ return policy.

Can anybody tell me what the F-CK Nicole Scherzinger was thinking when she put freaking Dexter through on The X Factor? Are you kidding me? Dexter is a kooky old homeless black man that has critters living in his hair. He wears platform shoes, stumbles around like a drunk prostitute with prosthetic legs, lives in an air-brushed denim jacket, and just scowls and screams. The man doesn’t even sing. He’s a crazy bum. What is this, Boiling Points? Also, Nicole, your long, dramatic pauses and unnecessary “build-ups” are really making me want to stop watching. Don’t be so kitsch. You’re just annoying. I’m sorry. You’re mega hot, but you’re being f-cking annoying.

And SIMON? Lay off the liquor. I don’t know if you noticed, but you put stupid f-cking Simone through instead of hot, angelic voiced Caitlin Koch. Simone is an idiot. I hate her. And then MELANIE?! You’re lucky you redeemed yourself and brought her back, because I was enraged and ready to boycott the television show. Little chubby Rachel and Melanie hold it down. Their voices move mountains. Drew Xzyq40wicz is also just incredible.

I’m really glad LA Reid & Rihanna aren’t total morons and got rid of the Vanilla Ice imitating pest named Nick Voss and his hopeless, irritating Elvis persona. His jitter leg? I wanted to fire a cannon at him every time he jitterbugged and Parkinsoned his ass around the stage. Ugh.

Little rapping Brian makes my day. Little niglet really gets me going. He’s great. And then Marcus? Marcus has the voice of a g-ddamn angel.

Well, time to go watch more shows about serial killers. Investigation Discovery Channel has got me by the balls.

….Stop lookin’ at mah mom! Mah mom!

X Factor joke. Whatever. Bye.

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“That’s what she got me for my birthday. Like, I know almost everything came from the Dollar Store, because I’ve seen it there.”

Trapped.

Apparently Law & Order went ahead and killed off Elliot Stabler without my knowing. I’m not sure where I missed out, but suddenly Benson is sorrowfully gazing at pictures of Stabler in her desk drawer, and her coworkers are telling her to “move on,” and that “nothing is going to bring him back.”  So….whose stupid decision was this? Sexy Christopher Meloni is part of my obsession with SVU. It’s what got me hooked in the first place. And SVU goes and kills him off? When did this happen? WHY did they do this?! And how did I miss this episode? I’m pissed. If they start phasing out Mariska Hargitay and Ice-T, I’m going to flip out.

I’LL FLIP OUT!!!

I recently got a larger three ring binder to keep track of all my job files. The one I got is a 3″.

Immediately I was petrified of snapping the metal rings onto my flesh, pinching them in a death gator-grip. It only took one day for it to happen. BOY did it hurt. Why are these three ring binders so violently powerful? That snapping power rivals that of a freshwater crocodile. They’re like a bear trap. There is no reason for them to be this scary.

Speaking of bear traps, why are these considered okay? This has got to be the meanest, most cruel and painful way to catch a bear. Why is this allowed? Incredibly inhumane. THEY SHOULDN’T BE ALLOWED!!!

There is a rogue mosquito flying around my living room. Nothing makes me more paranoid than an insect in my personal space. It keeps appearing and disappearing after I frantically and spastically wave it away. Speaking of insect infestation, the stink bugs have rolled on into town. MAN they’re gross. They just flood in, covering everything, trying to penetrate the screens of every house. They say smashing and killing one attracts more. It still doesn’t stop me from stomping them out every chance I get. I hope that’s just a myth.

I am disgusted by the nicknames the entertainment press such as E! and magazines like Cosmo give celebrities. Rihanna—-RiRi? ReReally? LiLo, ScarJo, R-Patz? Who started this? It’s worse than a blubbering toddler naming its snot-covered stuffed animals. Stupid.

Well, time for me to eat 4-6 fresh out of the oven chocolate chip cookies and watch the 2nd episode of Dexter. A winning combination indeed. Peace out.

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“I like it when people say ‘it’s a bad part of town.’  They mean black people live there.”

Shot through the heart.

If you don’t believe in receiving consequences for your actions, maybe you should start.

Yesterday, the Associated Press reported the following story:

SAN DIEGO — San Diego police say a boy throwing rocks at vehicles was struck in the abdomen by a crossbow bolt fired by a passenger in small sport utility vehicle.

Officer Dino Delimitros says the boy and a friend were throwing rocks in the Linda Vista neighborhood Monday afternoon when a passenger in a black Toyota RAV4 pulled out a crossbow and fired.

The boy was shot in the abdomen and was taken to a hospital. The San Diego Union-Tribune says his injuries are not life-threatening.

His name and age weren’t released.

Nobody has been arrested.

And no one will be. That boy got exactly what was coming to him. Serves you right, Tommy. Throw rocks and get shot. That’s what happens. I think we can all agree that universally speaking, grounding children really doesn’t work. Sure, take their PS3 or their Blackberry from them for a week and they’ll start wearing eyeliner and listening to death metal in their bedrooms, but they won’t stop doing whatever nasty shit they were doing before. They’ll just lie more to cover it up. A slap on the wrist isn’t going to turn problem kids into Beaver Cleavers. What they need is an appointment with The Punisher. A good bow and arrow scare works 99% of the time. Get shot once, and you won’t throw another rock ever again.

I wonder who Robin Hood in the RAV-4 was. Who just so happens to have a crossbow ready for fire in their moving vehicle? What a shot. Nailing an obnoxious vandalizing child with an arrow from a moving car is a pretty impressive feat. I wouldn’t be able to do it. I would curse and shake my fist, and that’s about as effective as I would get. Way to go, Squanto. Teach that boy a lesson. Next time, he’ll really give you something to cry about.

You know what I realized the other day? (p.s. – for you sensitive people out there who get offended by words, stereotypes, and ironic racism, this is your cue to go to TheNest.com and stop reading this post). You never see paparazzi photos of black rappers in tabloid magazines. It’s always people like Victoria Beckham, Kate Hudson, Zac Efron, Justin Beiber, Lindsay Lohan’s vagina, etc. I wonder if it’s because when you see someone like T-Pain or Gucci Mane out in the streets, it’s just like, “Oh…there’s…another black person.”  They don’t exactly stick out. It’s not like you see the Ying Yang Twins in public and think, “Omg, it’s the Ying Yang Twins!”  You just think, “I guess I should lock my doors.”

 

That’s all. Babies, you can start reading again.

I am having a HELL of a time with allergies this week. Meet the bane of my existence:

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Ragweed. F-ck you, ragweed. I cannot get a single molecule of oxygen through my nasal passage. Completely blocked. It feels like my skull is filled with concrete. I sound like a retarded or deaf person. I’m breathing through my mouth, so I have agape-face all day long. This morning while eating my cereal, I actually had to take breaks while I was chewing to open my mouth and inhale so that I didn’t suffocate while eating. Not to mention the headache I’ve got pounding away inside my cranium from all the pressure my skull is under. No amount of Zyrtec in the world is going to get me out of this one. Bring it on, frost. Kill these plants. Kill them dead.

WELL, I’m off to continue mouth-breathing and being pissed about my allergies. Adios amigos.

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C:   There are two videos tagged of me singing Whitney Houston in just a week’s time. That is two too many.

B:   Your fault.

C:   Her fault for having the voice of a g-ddamn angel.

You catch more flies with honey.

Why the f-ck would I want to attract flies?

I’m pretty much over America’s Got Talent. Eight out of ten contestants are idiots with mental problems who are so bad they aren’t even entertaining. One out of ten contestants is mediocre at best, and they still vote them through. The last one out of ten is actually talented, and they should be on a show that takes them seriously.

I think the horrible auditions on this show should get slimed instead of buzzed. That would be a lot more gratifying of a consequence. Something to scare the talent-less blockheads out there out of auditioning in the first place. Sliming would be great. Electric shocks would also suffice. Trap doors that drop them into shark tanks would be even better.

.

I spent the first 18 years of my life turning up my nose at cottage cheese. It is by far one of the most unattractive foods in the world. My old college roommate would continually badger me to give it a try, and I would loudly decline her offer, making disgusted faces and telling her she was a barbarian for eating something so grotesque. I mean, look at it. It looks like something that’s growing in my kitchen sink. Then one day, I finally gave in. I sneered at the spoonful of cottage cheese, and begrudgingly put it in my mouth.

It was good.

After I got over the fact that it looks like VD, it tastes like string cheese.

I think it would be funny if instead of being sentenced to jail for nonviolent crimes, offenders had their crimes tattooed to their foreheads.

“I PEEK INTO DRESSING ROOMS.”

“I STOLE A FORD TEMPO.”

“I SET MY BROTHER ON FIRE.”

“I PEE ON KIDS.”

 

Tiaras are juvenile. People need to stop wearing them at proms and weddings. The only person who is allowed to don a tiara is Kate, and her opportunity was already redeemed at her royal wedding. Even then, it’s pushing it. They make you look like a four year old playing dress-up. Can we all agree on this?

A man on television just said, “She died ‘fairly instantaneously.’“  Okay; it’s either instantaneously or it’s not. There’s no “fairly” instantaneously. That’s like saying “the car accident was relatively fatal.” The bitch either died or she didn’t. Am I the only one left in the world with a vocabulary more advanced than a third grader’s? I’m beginning to think that I am.

Well, I guess I’ll be going now. Have a mediocre day.

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“She then told me that her friend who I also don’t know follows me as well and she loves me HARD. I was all like ‘get the f-ck out’ and she was all like ‘east side to the west side muthaf-cker’ and I was like ‘yeah I have no idea what’s going on now’. “

http://beckydelport.blogspot.com/

Shit bull.

Last night, The Voice aired once again on NBC. Naturally I changed all of my plans and glued myself in front of the television and cussed at anyone who spoke during the show.

The show begins with a sleazy performance by Neyo and freaking Pit Bull and fourteen slutty women air-humping in leotards and lace tights. It’s awful. I wanted Piers to show up from America’s Got Talent and buzz them off the stage. I hate Pit Bull. He is a disgusting, gross, bald Latino man. Like, Beverly McClellan has more sex appeal than Pit Bull. His voice is awful. He sounds like me first thing in the morning when my phone rings and wakes me up and I groggily answer with a scratchy, shitty voice. Terrible.

Beverly and Christina perform a pretty fantastic rendition of “Beautiful,” an Aguilera original. Christina looks like a wizard. Her long, scarecrow hair and bucket hat makes her look like Merlin. I wanted her to be holding a magic want and a glowing crystal ball.

Blake Shelton and Dia Frampton perform a Tom Petty song together, and Blake reminds the world how much taller he is than everyone else by making Dia and the rest of the musicians look like the lollipop guild by comparison.

Adam and Javier perform “Man In The Mirror” by the late Michael Jackson. I gawk at Adam’s ravishing looks for the duration of the song. I wish I could stop, but I can’t. Javier pretends he is not wearing a baseball cap, but it is still a baseball cap, just disguised as a beret.

Vicci and Cee Lo dress like Pokemon characters and sing a song about love and war. Or war being like love. Or…was it love being like war. Anyway, they hire a gaggle of children who dress like them to do backflips around the stage while they sing. It’s great. Vicci is a little firecracker, and I like her.

Tonight the finals aired. Javier won. I was sort of disappointed by this. I think my overall problem with Javier is that although his voice is fantastic, he bores me as an individual. I guess in the end, no one was really a loser, as all four singers got incredible exposure and everyone now knows who they are. Way to go, kids. A+. I want season two to start immediately.

The end.

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“Is it hard to be Muslim when bacon is so delicious?”