Things I've learned from being on Pinterest

Things I've learned from being on Pinterest.... 
1. Every fucking recipe being pinned right now has pumpkin in it.
2. People like to eat things with cream cheese in them on Christmas morning. 
3. Every pinned "my style" outfit costs like $4000 when you add up all the components. 
4. Any recipe that starts with the quote "another pinner said this is so good she makes it every week" tastes like shit. Unless I wrote it. 
5. People are totally fucking delusional about the houses they will never be able to afford. 
6. People are obsessed with eating cake and brownie batter.
7. Single women pin way too many fucking engagement ring pictures. 
8. Putting a peice of magic eraser in your toilet overnight does not fucking clean it. 
9. The hair tutorials are impossible to do.
And..
10. People put some really stupid fucking shit on their fingernails.

Why do you hate prairie skirts?

Because they remind me of Michelle my vagina has it's own zip code and a swimming pool Duggar, but they also remind me of something else:

Teachers.

Disclaimer: I have many friends, both in real life and crackbook that are well-dressed teachers. How do you know you are a "fashionable teacher?" (this is such an oxymoron, I can't even believe I just wrote those two words in the same sentence......) There are 3 ways to tell.....

1. You have been formally reprimanded by your principal for "inappropriate" clothing. Nice job, one step further away from this.

2. The 7th grade boys hit on you. What? Being known as the fuckable teacher is a badge of honor in my book. Rock on. Just don't get carried away, it's like a felony and shit.....

3. All the dorky teachers hate you. Don't feel bad. It's not YOUR fault you have a waist.

Don't fall into their trap, you don't HAVE to dress like a teacher. Dress like you! And remember some of these simple rules:

FELT is not a fabric, people. It's a fucking arts and crafts supply!

You don't need a Jeanne Bice sweater for every season and/or holiday. Although I would like to see a black history month sweater. That would be fucking sweet.....

If your nipple gets snagged in your zipper, your jeans are MUCH too high.

I could go on all day, but I have shit to do. Just keep on top of yourself, check with your non-teacher friends once in a while for their opinion on what are you wearing. You really do have to be careful. Ugly teacher clothes can often have their own gravitational pull. Just like the Earth rotating around  the sun. It happens SLOWLY. First it's "oh look at these christmas ornament earrings. They are kinda fun.." And the next thing you know you are taking a fucking embroidery class. I suggest a monthly ugly clothes check. Take everything you own, and lay it out on your floor. Invite 3 of your best-dressed friends over to take inventory. Let them throw away ANYTHING they think sucks. You'll be thanking them for it one day....

I am a fat ass

And it's time to fucking do something about it. The first thing I need to do is stop lying to myself, and start de-bunking some myths that I have created to convince myself that my lifestyle is not contributing AT ALL to my fatassery.

Myth #1. Vodka has little to no calories. How can something that's clear be all that bad for me?

Truth: Vodka is awesome. In moderation. Three beer-mug size martinis with 45 olives a night is never a good idea. Also, getting smashed around 4:30 and then eating 3 helpings of dinner isn't a good idea either. No more vodka during the week. AT ALL. I can't abide by the rule of "I'll just have one," because I have the willpower of Charlie Sheen in a whorehouse. The weeknight binging is officially coming to an end. Tomorrow. OK, tonite. I could feel an intervention coming on, so if you are one who was involved, just back the fuck off. I'm clean now.

Myth #2. I work out a TON. I should be losing weight.

Truth. I do work out a ton. However, there is a simple math equation that can prove that even though I do work out 1 ton, I eat 4 tons. If I burn 500 extra calories a day but take in 2000 extra, I will inevitably gain. Calories in/Calories out. It's a simple fact that has been proven by science. Solution: continue working out, but cut back to 1500 calories per day. Goal: a weight loss of 2 pounds per week. That puts me at goal weight on April 1st. Just in time for my month vaca in Florida where I will gain it all back by consuming immeasurable amounts of Barbeque. No, cannot do that, will have worked too hard to be skinny. Will not gain all weight back on vaca.

Myth #3. I must have hypothyroidism, I have all the symptoms!

Truth: Shut the fuck up. Hypothyroidism is an excuse fat people use. The only symptoms I see are muffin top, fat arms, and moon face. Solution: stop being a fucking hog at the dinner table and run faster.

I can do it. Nothing tastes as good as thin feels. Except lobster.

I hope the NY Jets DIE

Listen you pathetic fuckfaces. So we lost. OK, you beat the pats. we have been the underdog MANY years. We USUALLY are. Which is why I am so proud to be a New England Sports fan. I have so many cherished memories over the past 10 years. I will never forget the patriots superbowls or our world series championships. It comes down to one game. Be it a wild card, the afc championship or a title. I love you guys and I am humbled and honored to be a part of a fan base with such storied rivalries and historic games. To Tom Brady: you are the best quarterback in history. But tonite? Shit, I could have come in in the second quarter and made your throws. Pathetic. Listen to the Jets brag. Seriously. Take it in to the next season. You have been TOTALLY pussified by Giselle. I know it's proabably the best ass you've ever had, but here is the black and grey. ASS doesn't win you superbowls. First downs do. Now I have to go field the shit I have dished to me on facebook by Jets fans. JETS FANS. Probably the most pathetic team in history. Thanks. No, seriously. Thank you. Go fuck your supermodel wife while I puke in the toilet and eat all the leftovers.


*edited to add that this was written in a drunken stupor, after which I cried on my living room floor and went to bed, spending the rest of the night resisting the urge to puke. Thank you.

My ass hates me

Might as well start this blog off with a bang....

I am a hypochondriac. I fucking love google. Where else can you list like 12 random symptoms and find out without a doubt that you have rectal cancer, celiac disease, AND multiple sclerosis? And my insanity doesn't stop with me. 

I have diagnosed my children with Lesch-Nyhan syndrome, Cystic Fibrosis, and a multitude of autism spectrum disorders. Why? I have no fucking idea. I blame the many mental diseases I may or may not have inherited from my extended family......

So anyway, I know my ass is messed up. I blame it on having kids. I have suspected I have hemhorroids, but haven't been entirely convinced since I am not able to view them, as most of my pain in my ass is INSIDE. So I got to see my doctor on Monday. The following is a quick email I shot off to my sister in law, as well as some of my close friends who I knew would take pleasure in my suffering......

So I get this pain in my butt, like literally- ass hurting. Go to doctor who I can't tolerate anyway because I know that SHE knows I am a hypochondriac and tell her about pain in ass. She pokes around in there for a minute, then sticks some torture device up there called an anoscope. Tells me word for word "that looks like a hemmorhoid, but it's up too far, so I think you need to see a surgeon." 

Awesome. Spend nite thinking I have anal cancer, drill Jeff on importance of ignoring colostomy bag and focusing on "our love" and threatening him into marrying someone who loves our kids "as much or maybe a little less" than me. 

Wake up this morning, google "what kind of clothes to wear with colostomy bag" and "how much does hospice REALLY cost?" and go to surgeon. Lucky me, they have a cancellation and I get in a half hour early. Because, you know I went early to try to read the "oh poor woman she is going to die" face on the receptionists and/or nurses. Am whisked into room with many many clean instruments lying on prep table. "oh, those are NOT for you, they were for the one who cancelled." Double awesome.

Bend over, am violated by another anoscope by very competent surgeon. He looks up there and says "WOW! you have some hemmorhoids. But what you DON'T have is cancer. I am gonna band one of these, and have you come back in a month to do the other. Everything else looks awesome. That's what you get for having kids with big heads." 

WOW. no cancer. No people in the back of the funeral home at my wake whispering "she must have taken it up the ass, like, her whole life!"

Anyway, I am glad I am not dying, and although I feel like I just got fucked in the ass by the entire collegiate football conference, I am pretty damn happy. Just thought I'd share because if this happened to someone I knew, I'd be fucking DYING laughing.

happy 1/11/11