Camoufag.

I had to switch back to my pasty face makeup this week. My tan is fading faster than my patience with Pennsylvanians, if you can believe it. My days soaking up the sun for this year have come to an end. It is 43 degrees today. Winter is upon us. I’m not sure what happened to fall, but I’m all aboard with Jack Frost moving in. Winter makes me swell with joy. I start blaring Christmas music, baking, being generally jolly—I love it.

Imgur.com has become one of my favorite websites as of late. Let me share with you a photo they posted, plus the hilarious comment that followed by someone else:

“Aww, it’s sad when you see girls with no dates.”

Ha. That’s a good one. Someone else said,

“Those girls made a terrible choice footwear for a hunting trip.” 

I thought, “Holy fivehead.”

I flipped out on a 79 year old hag of a woman today. BOY was she stupid. I made her feel like an ignorant sack of shit, because she was one. I have reached my limit of tolerance with these asshole Pennsylvanians, folks. This old bitch was the straw that broke the camel’s back. My patience has officially run out. From this point forward, anyone who crosses me will be met with a verbal assault that they can barely comprehend. Watch out, Westmoreland County. Cruella is on the scene.

In other news, I have probably eaten upwards to 15 Dove Promises today. That’s not something to brag about, unless you’re Mary-Kate Olsen. Those little messages in the foil wrappers are always making me furrow my brow. They always say things like, “You’ve got a great laugh,” and “Love your smile.” Basically things that you can say to any fat person shoving 11 pounds of chocolate into their mouths. It’s not like you’ll come across a wrapper that says, “Hey skinny minnie!” or “Killer legs!”  Well played, Dove. Well played.

I saw a girl in McDonald’s today wearing a tiara. She was at least 20 years old. This is unacceptable.

Every time I’m in a store, I look around in disgust at the hundreds of hideous clothing items that are manufactured that literally no human being should ever wish to purchase/wear, and I think….my, what a waste of resources. Items like these:

Stopping the manufacturing of these disgusting apparel items would result in multiple positives for our world. 1) It would stop the wasted resources and materials used to make these horrendous items. 2) People will terrible fashion sense would not be able to make as many mistakes. 3) Less space would be used in stores.

The world would be a better place.

Dexter is finally starting again tomorrow. I am absolutely elated. This is my favorite show in the universe. Sundays are my new favorite day again. I wish television would stop bringing me on such an emotional rollercoaster. It’s all these ups and downs, they’re really wearing me thin. We go from Law & Order marathons to nonstop football Sundays, back to Dexter premiers. I’m squealing with delight, then sobbing, then squealing with delight again—it’s not right.

Well, it’s time for me to go to Robokyo and get shrimp tossed at my pie hole. Later, kids. Remember—you are what you eat.

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B:  You will need a rape kit after what I’m doing to you in Hanging With Friends.

B:   Whatever. By the way, I forgot to send a page in your letter. Sorry.

B:   Did it have tips for how to play Hangman, because if so, you should just keep it.

 

TGIF.

Friday is always a bad day to publish a blog post. People are too busy destroying their bodies, minds, and spirits with…well, spirits. Not that I blame them. The right thing to do on a Friday night is to come home all pissed off from work, log onto Facebook, update your status to how drunk you’re about to get, grab a Coors Light, and step into the shower with said Coors Light while you shampoo your hair, blare rap songs about getting hammered, and then go get hammered yourself. What’s a Saturday morning without a pounding post-tequila headache, a missing cell phone, regret, and throw up on your shoes? Well that’s just not a Saturday at all.

I am ready to bludgeon multiple citizens of Jeannette and/or Latrobe, Pennsylvania to death. Can I get in trouble for saying this? I don’t think so. I think I am protected by several amendments. Well, maybe one amendment. Anyway, freedom of speech, blah blah blah. Seriously. People here need to be punished. They all share the same mentality that they deserve everything for nothing. They’re all victims. The world owes them something because they work so hard at being lazy, jobless, bottom-feeding parasites. I was red with rage today. Dealing with these people is going to drive me to drink myself to death, and turn grey in the process.

Helping people with insurance claims here in western PA is like trying to help an injured, famished animal. All I’m trying to do is wrap your bleeding wound and feed you some Apple Jacks, raccoon! WHY ARE YOU TRYING TO BITE ME?! DON’T YOU KNOW I’M ON YOUR SIDE?!?!?

People don’t get it.

I am 100% certain that I will be slapping one or more people across the face before I leave this state. I am also delivering some very brutally honest, mean, “you suck so bad” letters when I depart. There are so many people here that need to be told how miserable, ugly, incompetent, disagreeable, and ignorant they are. I am first in line to do so. I’ve already written one. It begins like this:

Dear Toucan Sam,

It’s a nose joke. This woman’s nose is the size of the Great Pyramid of Giza. You could build a gazebo on it. You could install an in-ground pool on her nose. They could move the Iowa State Fair campgrounds to her shnoz. It’s that big.

I can’t wait to deliver it. I am rubbing my palms together with anticipation, snickering all the while. I hope she cries and is too embarrassed to ever show her nose I mean face in public ever again. Perhaps she’ll cut it off. I’ll have to send a follow-up letter to find out what she decided to do.

I’ve really been sucking down the Dr. Pepper today. In the store, I noticed they sold 8-packs of these miniature cans of Dr. Pepper, so I bought them thinking that it would be a good way to satisfy my insatiable craving for DP without drinking a pony keg of it at a time. That didn’t work. Instead I just drink like 3 miniature cans instead of one regular one. It’s too delicious. I have no regrets.

If you need me, I’ll be in a soda-induced coma. Goodbye for now.

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“At my grandfather’s funeral and I just sharted bad.”

America’s Got Losers.

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Long John Silvers needs to stop pretending that Aunt Jemima is back there in the kitchen whipping up homestyle, fresh-from-the-sea seafood like Paula Deen does in her country kitchen. Ex-cons with biker tattoos and black girls named Quaneisha’ are back there dumping frozen fish sticks in the grease vats. It’s fast food. Worse, it’s fast seafood. That’s an oxymoron. Make me a burger in sixty seconds or less—-Alright. Make me fried cod in sixty seconds or less? Food poisoning.

I love that the digital signature pads that you have to sign with the fake pen at the store checkout after you swipe your credit card say, “SIGNATURE APPROVED” after a few moments of “authorization.”  Signature “approved” my ass. You and I both know if I took that pen and drew a picture of a dick on that screen, it would “approve” it. Michael J. Fox could sign that pad in the back of a moving van and it would accept. A two year old Korean boy could scribble his name and that machine would pretend to spend a moment authenticating the signature before affirming that it is “approved.” Get real. “Signature approved” means “Okay, you have enough money for this purchase, we don’t give a shit who you are.”

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Just when you think Wheat Thins can’t get any better, they come out with ranch flavored ones. Yum. They make your breath stink like ass, but boy are they fantastic. I ate a half a box of ranch Wheat Thins yesterday for dinner. That was a mistake. I couldn’t stop though. I did not purchase them again at the store in fear of a repeat occurrence. If you have any self control though, I recommend trying them.

I am really tempted to use this dish soap as body wash:

I am not exaggerating. Dawn Hand Renewal with Olay in Pomegranate Splash. This detergent smells good enough to squeeze onto a loofa and lather up in the shower with. Men and women alike would flock toward the intoxicating aroma of Pomegranate Splash wafting from my skin. Really, it would bring all the boys to the yard.

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Someone stupid: *sigh*

Someone stupid (five minutes later):  *rolls eyes*

Stop with the stupid status updates, FREAKS!!!!!!!

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I have mixed feelings about the television show “America’s Got Talent.”  The talent is a needle in a haystack. I’m tired of watching idiotic jokers waste my viewing time by juggling eggs and singing the Star Spangled Banner poorly. America got over the bad auditions after the first season of American Idol. We got our laughs out back in 2004. Just show me talented people who can move mountains with their voice, and black guys who can dance like Usher. Even with all the invalids riding unicycles and and telling shitty riddles, I feel like they put everyone through. It’s not like the show puts me on edge. Really it just makes me grind my teeth and repeat, “This is so bad. So bad,” over and over again.

Well, let’s do this again some time.

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“Sorry, I was thinking about tater tots.”

Search and rescue.

Once again, I’d like to give you all a peek into the wide, sometimes scary but always funny  array of search terms that people out there search on Google to land them on my blog:

elephantiasis of the vagina

cucumber up arse

pies and weight loss

fattest ugliest girl ever

ugly douchebag

how do christina aguilera’s boobs stay in her dress on the voice

famous women with moles on there boobies

big fat man with small willy

old man falling off mountain

are teeth jewelry stupid

ugliest bitch on the planet

does having a baby ruin your vagina

fat f*ck sitting on someone

the fattest man in the world’s willy

ugly girl eating pie

fat willy and willy going into a vagina

ugly fat people that have poop on their face

how does the fattest man in the world put on pants

the fattest willy

short fat greasy people

sexy women with nice bums

girls peeing in stores on floor

the fattest person in the universe

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When did the term “willy” become popular again?

Pies and weight loss.  Those two terms are not even related.

How DOES the fattest man in the world put on pants?

Are teeth jewelry stupid:  Yes.

Does having a baby ruin your vagina?   Uh….would throwing up a watermelon ruin your mouth? I don’t care what they say about post-birth vaginas, I don’t buy it. Never the same.

How do Christina Aguilera’s boobs stay in her dress on The Voice?   I wonder the same thing.

Someone out there is having a bit of a situation with a cucumber. Should I trace the ip address and find out who?

I need my hair done worse than Christina Aguilera needs her beach body back.

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Seriously. It’s been many moons since I’ve had my highlights touched up. I’m a mess. I look like a poor trailer park girl. I’m one of those people that I make fun of. I need to see a stylist, stat.

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You know what I love about Law & Order? It’s always on. Always. It doesn’t matter what time of day, day of the week, holidays, the Sabbath—it’s on. Law & Order is on like 4 different channels at all hours of the day in marathon-premiers. SVU gets me going. Sometimes I take hiatuses from Law & Order and forget how addicting it is. Then before you know it, I’m back to snorting Christopher Meloni and Mariska Hargitay up my nose for three hours a day. This is me not complaining about it.

WELL, time to go.

Your friend,

Rebecgay

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“My dad lived in Japan for a year, that’s how I learned to speak Japanese. Moo-shu pork, Melissa!”

Stupid at an entirely new level.

on the kia commercial are those real hamsters

Oh. My. God. The above was yet another search term that some low-intelligence nimrod out there in the world wide web typed in their Google search bar that landed them at my blog. Are you serious? Are those real hamsters? Yes, Cesar Milan joined the marketing directors over there at the Kia dealership, slapped Raybans and basketball jerseys on a few human-sized hamsters, trained them to break dance, and taught them to drive a stick-shift.

Go kill yourself. Waste no more time.

Or air.

I’m tired of 5 Gum commercials trying to pretend that chewing their gum is like experiencing an acid trip. I am extremely doubtful that putting a piece of mint flavored chewing gum is going to make me see dragons appear in the night sky that spontaneously combust into IMAX screen sized butterflies. The last time I found myself laying naked on my back feeling like I was being covered in magnetic metal balls, it was Lalapalooza, and I was doing shrooms in the forest. The next closest non-illicit-drug related experience you can have to that is food poisoning at El Rancho Grande. Even then, you’re stretching it. 5 Gum is not equal to LSD.

The other night I watched the UFC fight between Rampage Jackson and Matt Hamill. This was really the first time I had ever really paid attention to one of these fights. I just don’t understand that people do this for sport. I mean, these guys just go out there and start beating the shit out of each other. It just seems so impolite. It’s like, what if you have nothing to be pissed at the other person for? You can’t just go into the ring and feel right about breaking the other person’s jaw and bruising their kidneys for sport, can you? I don’t get it.

I don’t understand how people eat super spicy foods and enjoy it. I have a hard time believing that people that do this genuinely “like” it. There’s almost nothing you can do to change my mind. People who eat habanero peppers and XXX devil’s hot wings are sadists. Sadists who crave attention. How can you even taste what you’re eating when your tongue is going up in flames? I am not interested in eating foods that make me feel like I took a blow torch to my esophagus, make me sweat like I’m running the mile inside a Hefty bag, and bring tears gushing forth through my eyes. I don’t like to have a fire extinguisher and 14 gallons of whole milk nearby when I sit down to enjoy a nice meal. That’s not eating. That’s suicide. Dragons were meant to breathe fire. Not human beings.

Well, I need to go digest the 11 pounds of macaroni and cheese I just consumed. Thanks for stopping by,

Rebecky.

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“Poop dolla!”

Too much inforgaytion.

“Finishing up dinner.”

That is a status update I just read.

…….a mobile status update.

Was letting everyone know that you were almost done eating your supper that pressing of an announcement that you had to reach for your cell phone between bites of beef stroganoff, log on, and inform everyone via Facebook update? What is going on with the world?

I think it’s time to start creating some sort of guideline for status updates. There are certain announcements that need not be shared with everyone in your network. Here are a few unnecessary categories that you can skip out on informing the rest of us of:

Irrelevant updates. These are the status updates that do not matter to anyone else in the entire world. Examples:

“Jared Blake – ironing my bandanas!”

“Melissa Pierce is reading Twilight again lol. #obsessed.”

“Danielle Wright is tanning!!”

“Stephen Morris: just bought a power washer.”

Riveting information, guys, but idgaf.

Emotional updates. People don’t feel sorry for you when you post country song lyrics about heart break and abuse the ellipsis to express your discontent. Examples:

“I just don’t know what to do anymore…..”

“What happened to us….. </3”

“*sigh*”

“Thought it was gonna be a sigh of relief but now I just wanna scream. F*ck emotions sometimes. I hate that I care so much sometimes bc it hurts so bad.”

^ That one was actually real. Write this shit in your diary and stick it under your mattress. Nobody cares about what’s going on inside your teenage angst gripped heart.

Updates that are directed toward one individual person in particular. If you have something to say to someone, say it directly to them. Send them a text message. Call them. Send them a fax. I don’t care what you do, just don’t post it to everyone else in your network. If you’re going to yell at your ex-boyfriend for cheating on you, then yell at your ex-boyfriend for cheating on you. At him. Not at everyone else.

“Omg Travis, I can’t believe you would do that 2 me; I gave you everything! Such a prick, guys r all the same. Don’t talk to me ever again.”

“You really find out who your friends are….”

“You are SO annoying.”

Emoticons. These aren’t even updates.

😦.

😛.

❤

I also hate seeing people comment on their friends’ Facebook walls things like, “Text me!” or  “Hey, I’m going to BBM you later.”  Just…do those things. Just “BBM” them. Don’t inform them via a different technological medium that you’re planning on doing it. Just do it. Why would you write on someone else’s Facebook wall that you would like them to text you? Why wouldn’t you just…text them? People are so, so special.

Get real, folks. Bye.

-Rebecca.

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“Don’t you love it when people in school are like, ‘I’m a bad test taker.’ You mean you’re stupid. Oh, you struggle with that part where we find out what you know? Oh, I can totally relate; I’m a brilliant painter, minus my god-awful brush stroke. Oh, how the masterpieces crystal up here, but once paint has hit canvas, I develop Parkinsons.”