21 Things People Hate About Me

"Michelle, why are you such an insufferable bitch?"

This is a question I'm often asked, by friends and strangers, by clergy and laypersons, by the young and decrepit alike. It's been one of the great mysteries of my life-- How could you hate me? ME! As is typical of my personality (and number 14 on the list) I've decided to compile a list.

1. I am a biblio-snob of the worst sort. Twilight? Bitch, please. I wouldn't be caught dead with that book in my hand.


2. I crack my bones.


3. I wear (forbidden!) outside shoes at the gym.


4. I ask questions that are absolutely none of my business.


5. I sing along in the car to every single song. I'm a terrible singer, too. This is not modesty, either. I am truly terrible. It's why I love kareoke so much.


6. I love opening my mouth and showing people half-eaten food.


7. I always grab my friend's cigarettes and insist on lighting them. The first drag is always the best, anyway. The rest is just anticlimax.


8. I openly mock those who use poor grammar.


9. I roll my eyes about 5 dozen times per day.


10. I love the movie "Drop Dead Gorgeous".


11. I have a super-humanly strong sense of smell, and I will tell you if you stink.


12. I always whine that I want a pot-bellied pig. Apparently they get really big. Whatever.


13. I compulsively buy stationery. Pens are a particular problem.


14. I compile lists incessantly.


15. I become obsessed with things very intensely, and I devour every piece of information I can find on the subject.


16. I refuse to watch The Godfather.


17. I love watching strangers eat really messy food. Shawarmas= hilarious.


18. Anything that comes out of my purse smells and tastes like perfume. Mints, gum, etc.


19. I rarely finish a drink. I just drink 75% of it, and either give up or get a new one.


20. I cannot (CANNOT) sit at a restaurant without hanging a spoon off my nose.


21. I fully expect you to adore me for the above idiosynchracies.

Thought of the Day

Barbecue-flavoured chips and beer go really, really well together.

Non-Violent Persistence

I present to you, my microscopic viewing public, my very first passive aggressive note.

I feel I must mention that this is not my first attempt to solve this problem- I have tried the assertive option, the aggressive option, and now I am left with little else in the way of protest. I am very new to this type of problem-solving. Usually, I just flutter my eyelashes and say "Please?"or hit whatever I want over the head, but these methods have been of no use in this particular situation.

Not my best effort, I'll admit, but I was in a hurry. You see, I had a load of unmentionables in The Washer (so capitalized as there is only one blessed functioning machine- Allah be praised), and I had to scribble down this note so I could stealthily sneak it in and tape it up. Also, if you leave your laundry in the machine for more than 2 minutes after your load is done, someone will take it out and (if you're lucky), put it on top of the dryer. Not in the dryer, mind you. On top.

I'm not really into creepy apartment-dwellers fondling my knickers and delicates, so I had to rush.

I digress. Here is my contribution to the world of spineless whining:

Ghandi would have been proud.

The First Step is Admitting You Have a Problem

Meat is the new black.

via Passive Aggressive Notes

I'm Gay For...

Grey Gardens. Why? Please allow the following quotes to answer your question.

Little Edie: If you can't get a man to propose to you, you might as well be dead.

Big Edie: The cat's going to the bathroom right in behind my portrait.
Little Edie: Isn't that awful?
Big Edie: No, I'm glad he is. I'm glad someone's doing what he wanted to.

Big Edie: He always compliments me on the way I do my corn.

Big Edie: France fell, but Edie didn't fall.

If you haven't watched it, you haven't lived. This statement is absolutely without hyperbole.

Oh, The Woes of the Middle Class

Dear Resident Manager whom I will, one day, draw and quarter,

Hey there. We have a situation. Since November, the second of the two washing machines on my floor has been broken. Nope-- correction. It has been broken, repaired by your 80-year old husband, broken again, and again repaired. The cycle begins anew every 2 weeks or so. Now mathematics has never been my strongest area of expertise, but it is my calculation that this machine has been broken for 255 of the last 270 days. Clearly, this repair job is ineffective. Actually, I feel strange using the word 'repaired', because we both know this is not what he does. This is the same man who replaced a fuse on my stove... with another fuse from my stove. Now, instead of a malfunctioning right burner, I have a malfunctioning left burner. I blame myself, really. I obviously need to be more specific.

Please, please, please hire a real repairman for the building. I know you love your husband, but he is as useless as a hat full of busted assholes. The man has no clue now to fix shit. My Aunt Nita could do a better job. And she's 98 years old. And she's dead.

I suppose having two washing machines in good working order for a floor with 30+ residents is a lot to ask. Believe me, we've tried to make due. We currently solve the problem as follows: each Sunday, we draw straws to determine who will get to wash their clothes that week. It's kind of fun, actually. When I awake on the Lord's Day, I'm never sure if I'm going to have clean clothes that week, or if I'll have to rotate my wardrobe another 360 degrees. It's terribly exciting, really. It kind of makes me feel powerful and dangerous. Like the sun.

One thing I ask of you, however, is to actually empty out the stagnant wash water from the broken machine. I'm sure you're aware that the machine always breaks mid-cycle, leaving a basin full of grey water. I'm not in love with seeing the floating crust of dirty clothes. You think I'm exaggerating? Observe.

Yummy.

Love,
Michelle

P.S. I'm fucking serious. I will have you drawn and quartered. It hurts.

Thought of the Day

Why don't people still get glamour shots? They were so... just... glamourous.

Because I'm a Legend In My Own Mind. And In Yours.

James Lipton's Ten Questions.

1. What is your favourite word?
Reciprocity

2. What is your least favourite word?
Prolapse

3. What turns you on?
Really good cologne, and Daniel-Day Lewis as Bill the Butcher in "Gangs of New York".

4. What turns you off?
Reciprocal prolapses

5. What is your favourite curse word?
'Cunt'. I so rarely get a chance to use it, though. People are so sensitive about being called 'cunty' these days.

6. What sound or noise do you love?
Thunder, and the sound of the bones cracking in my neck.

7. What sound or noise do you hate?
When someone's nose is whistling. Or the creepy accents that men in California have.

8. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?
I would like to get my Ph. D in sass. Also, I would like to work the machine that makes those little donuts.

9. What profession would you not like to attempt?
Anything in sales or professional sports.

10. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?
"Welcome home. You did a great job, but next time around, can we please watch the goddamn language?"

Synergy, We Hardly Knew Ye

Care to take a little stroll down memory lane?
No?
Too fucking bad. Watch it.





....?

What the hell were we thinking in the 80's?

So, Synergy is Clash? No? So she's the polar opposite of Clash? And she can jam Jem's concert with scary crotch-rays? But she can also make Clash into Jericha. But Jericha is actually Jem, right? And The Holograms are actual holograms? But, where does Jem come from in the first place? How does this work?

Looking back at the 80's, it's easy to see the tremendous effect that all the blow and Flock of Seagulls had on us.

As a child, I was a huge fan of Jem. I asked, begged, PLEADED for a Jem doll for Christmas. When I finally got one, I experienced such deep disappointment.

Jem is a fucking tranny. I know this, because I ran to my room to get my Ken doll as comparaison. She is bigger than Ken, has no hips, and her face bears the expression of an individual who is straining under the pain of a poorly-executed tuck.

Actually, upon further inspection, I'd venture to guess she has the shit sweats from a long night of Boone's Strawberry Hill and Moons Over My Hammy.

Also- please note the earrings. They stick into her head like voodoo needles. Once, I poked them into her neck and pretended she was Frankenstein. "Raaaaarrr!"

Don't even get me started on the hair.

I'm Gay For...

This place.



Why?
The coffee= other-worldly.
The music= delightful.
And best of all, it makes me feel gloriously pretentious.

Caffe Artigiano, I heart you.

Heart-Breaker, Love-Taker

At 30, this kid sold your Dad a used Camaro and impregnated your cousin.

Every Philip Seymour Hoffman character could learn a thing or two from him.

via Awkward Family Photos

Craigslist: Take Two.

Here we go again. This is gonna be wet and wild. May I suggest a diaper?

Lonely, depressed, need feminine touch - 22
Tall, handsome, highly unique personality, but I'm lonely and depressed. I need a woman in my life to inspire me. Drink of my masculine energy, it is the + to your -

(Translation: I'm crazy. Swallowers only).

no pissin around
no i dont want a chat friend. no i dont want to get to know you over the internet. im looking for a woman who just wants to meet a nice guy. yes im good looking, yes im self sufficient and yes im looking for an attractive girl who wants to have dinner and see if theres sparks. nothing lost- nothing gained i do not respond to e-mails with out your photo. dont wast my time and i wont wast yours.

(Translation: I'm bettr than you. If you're not gorgeous and perfect, you're a time wastr).

Seeking inexp lady for LTR - 32 (downtown)
Hi, this may seem like an odd request...however i would love to find a gal that is fairly unexperienced with men. She should be any age, enjoy going out for a night of town, and looking for someone that is interested in an ongoing thing if all works out. The thought of being able to mould a perfect lover is something that interests me...

(Ya. This is a really shocking request. You want to nail a virgin. Welcome to being male).

Good Looking Guys Seeks Female Midget (Calgary)
Hello Little People of Calgary, You'd better beleive that you are in for a treat! I'm a very attractive and ambitious man (mid twenties) and I am genuinely interested in getting to know you. Your Qualifications: -Must enjoy wine & dancing -Like trying new experiences and learning about new culture -Must be fun and easy going -Capable of carying intelligent conversation -Under the age of 35 -4'10" or shorter only! About Me: -Positive, spontaneous, smart, and fun. -Irresistible charm I guarantee you that you will go crazy over me (and, in the event that I kind of enjoy you too, we will get along wonderfully).


(Translation: Let me throw you around, then call you 'midget' till you cry. You'd better beleive I will!)

Not Interested - 23
Don't reply to this ad, or read it for that matter. I'm not your sugar daddy, and I have no interest in 'hook-ups' (as the cool kids say) or whatever. Just looking for someone to talk with right now, and possibly more if we 'click'. Anyone with a BMI >25 need not apply. No prostitutes.
(How did Mr. Charisma last this long without being snatched up? I'm sure his mother has no idea, either).

Looking for lady to ride with me - 46 (Calgary)
I am planning a motorcycle trip this weekend. Need a female passenger to keep me company Destination is open for discussion.

(Tranlsation: Get on my bike. Don't ask questions. This rope might seem a little snug, but you'll get used to it. Ok, now you're asking questions. I've got duct tape in here somewhere...)

BEND OVER FOR Che Guevara - 31 (Calgary)
The nation of Iran is going through so much turmoil, freedom fighters are marching in, crowds are singing , history in making, you have seen it on TV now it is your turn to join history, immortalize yourself: I am an Iranian guy who can not join the revolution, neither can I participate in joyous beatings , I am full of energy and move and yet ... I think it helps if I fuck a random pussy , I think I will able to concentrate more on strategic tactics afterward. So join the revolution, now or never, you don't get many chances like this in your otherwise dull life. By fucking me, you have indeed fucked the representative of a whole lot of revolutionaries, I am your fucking Che Guara.

(Translation: Not needed. Refreshing honesty is more than appreciated).

This boy needs you..... - 30 (Calgary)
Hello Ladies.... I am a cute Teddybear, so luvable and so down to earth. I am looking for someone to hang with on those downer dayz and see where it takes us? Maybe a quiet movie in or out??? Maybe go for some drinks??? Maybe go for a stroll??? Maybe we'll jus hug for a long long time??? I am looking for you... I don't care if your big or small, short or tall, What your age is, or what your ethnicity is. Who is gonna bite on this ad??? Anyone out there???

(Tranlsation: My mom kicked me out, so you have to be just like her. We don't have to have sex every week, do we? Can't we just hold hands? I love you! Hugs! More hugs! Snuggles! Hey, where are you going? Why are you running so fast? I NEED you!)

lick my ass - 56
Looking for a girl who's willing to lick my ass after taking a big crap. It's a weird fetish I have.

(Translation: I ran out of toilet paper).

Natural Beauty

Ladies, clearly we all have some catching up to do.

via Dlisted

Thought of the Day

A bloated white businessman refused to open the window for an old lady on the train today. I think I'll stalk him for a few weeks, get him nice and scared, then sneak up on him in the alley and punch him in the dick.

I'm Gay For...

Her.

This is one of my best girlfriends. She is the proprietor of a significant piece of real estate in my heart. To me she is... perfect.

Part of my unconditional love for her stems from her ability to attract crazies and uncomfortable situations. It is... inspiring.

Observe.

Dear Chantal Hébert...

A little lipstick goes a long way.

Love, Michelle

An Open Letter to Manwich Sloppy Joe Sauce

Hey, bitch.

It's me, your #1 fan. I know, that sounds so Annie Wilkes, but I really don't care.

Why are you so fucking great?

I mean, all you are is glorified ketchup. Sure, there's some garlic salt and worchestershire sauce in you, but that's about it.

I usually save you for special occasions, like when I'm camping and I've blitzed myself retarded at 2 am. Why do I limit my consumption of you? My life needs you in it, every goddamn day. Sure, I might be inviting tapeworms into my colon, but true love is all about sacrifice.

You exist in a perfect cylindrical-shaped vessel, waiting, wanting me to open you. And then, a perfect climax--dripping dowm my chin, into my decolleté.

You are all I ever needed. Whenever you're around, all I have to do is find some meat, and get it near my biscuit.

Story of my life.

Love,

Michelle

Where Does He Hide Them?

It takes some serious balls to rip your own arm off as a warning. Daisy Duck must get it pretty regular.

Via Passive-Agressive Notes

Because Inquiring Minds Need to Know

What happens when I insert a device into my computer? Observe.
Yes, it really is me.
Maybe next time I'll tell you what happens when something comes into my Inbox.

Thought of the Day

Whatever happened to opium dens?

I'm Pretty Sure This Is Covered Under The Geneva Convention

The slider revolutionary.





via Dlisted

Freud and Marx Were Right-- We Fetishize Everything

In my search for Cakewrecks, I typed in 'cake' and Google auto-predicted that I might be instead looking for Cake Farts. Sure, Google, you've never led me astray before. I trust you. I'll just click on this link and....

Hmmm. I see. Excuse me, I have to go jump off my balcony now.

WARNING: Links to adult content. Not for the faint of heart. Please don't watch this. Ever.

http://www.cakefarts.com/

He Also Said He's Not Ready to Commit to Something Serious

What do you say to the graduate with absolutely no prospects on his horizon? What sentiment fits such a bleak, uncertain occasion?

This cake depresses me deeply. Is it the Wal-Mart shade of blue? The utter lack of punctuation, denoting an utter lack of emotion? The well-wisher seems not to even care enough about poor Evan to grant him the full words 'love you'.

This is the pastry equivalent to getting a card from your sweetheart with an inscription that reads: Love Ya :)

You're in my heart, Evan. Deep in my <3


Via Cakewrecks

Just a Squirt

Slow day. I need a template.

What are you doing right now?

Smokin' on a night train, chewin' on a jelly roll.

How many times have you been kissed today?

Does it count if I kiss myself? If it does, then 73.

What song is your ringtone?

Right now it's "Papa Was a Rolling Stone", but I'm most proud of getting the stink eye from some uptight bitch in Costco when my phone rang to "Erotica" by Madonna. I live to get the stink eye from strangers.

Rain or sun?

Rain. Sun is far too obvious and unimaginative.

What was your first job?

Fluffer at an assisted living facility.

Who was your favourite teacher?

My grade 8 English teacher, Mr. Mitchell. He was actually the son of W.O. Mitchell, and he loved to tell us stories about his dad getting spectacularly blitzed in rural Saskatchewan.

Wind, water, earth, or fire?

Who's asking these questions? The fucking Planeteers?

What is your favourite perfume?

Irrelevant Cheap Slag by Jessica Simpson. I wear it well.

Coke or Pepsi?

Seriously? Are these questions from like 1993? I feel like I'm taking the Pepsi Taste Test Challenge in a sad suburban mall. By the way, it's neither. Club Soda. What? I like it with lime. Caffeine makes me panic.

What do you wear to bed?

A smile. And a squirt of Irrelevant Cheap Slag by Jessica Simpson. I wear them well.

Asshole Seeks Same

One of my favourite activities is searching Craigslist for... anything. I've recently discovered that the personals offer the most interesting listings. A sample, complete with Asshole-to-English translation:

seeking older, attached & or neglected - 44 (south)

I'm attached and am looking for an encounter with an attached/neglected woman. Your needs & beauty have been ignored and I'm the one to make you feel like the woman you are. Your age isn't too important but would prefer between 30 - 55...of course this isn't written in stone. I'm clean, safe, attentive & affectionate.and want to please you in anyway you desire. Of course there will be NSA...but if you would like to make it an occasional event, that would be fine too. I'm 6'tall, 165lbs, attractive and in good shape. DISCRETION IS EXPECTED & ASSURED

(Translation: Pussy. Any age. No offers turned down).

very exciting to have real women for love (calgary)

honest , seriouce , funny , easy going , friendly , open minded , i love trying new things ,watch movies , traveling , sport .... i do like see news in morning ,with coffee , i do belive in love built on truth and trust , i am very exciting to heard from you if you are interested , if not plz accepte all my respect and have wonderfull times

(Translation: Fuck me. Stay for breakfast).

Do you want to sell me your panties - 24 (U of C area)
I have a huuuge panty fetish. I'd like to purchase a pair. I'd like them to be well-worn, strongly scented, and wet. I'll pay $50/pair. I'm actually a very normal guy but where else can I satisfy a fetish like this. I'm a normal grad student, very polite and respectful. I'd like you to be reasonably fit and attractive. After all, I will be thinking of you when I go home!
(Translation: Fucking yikes).

Toronto Banana Boy Coming To Town - 38 (Toronto To Calgary)

(Translation: Moving on....)

New to pussy - m4mw - 20 (Calgary)

Hey im a gay male but i wanna try pussy with a couple i got pics plz get back thanx

(Translation: Holes wanted).

looking for a date tonite - 34 (sw)

my buddy's b-day tonite and looking for a date nsa just looking for some female company blind dates r awsome im 6 foot 190 lbs bald nice build tattoos peircings anyway reply back my name is B.J and the sooner the better

(Translation: Bitch, you better reply to me now so I can slap you around a bit before dinner).

Mental Problems-23, SouthEast
I have all sorts of problems, such as being insecure, fat, ugly, balding, and (generally speaking) I am a total failure at life. I'd make a lousy companion, as I won't do anything nice for you, and I don't give a fuck aboot your problems. I'm an asshole and will be more than happy to make you feel bad aboot yourself if it makes me feel better. Your pic gets mine.

(Translation: Not needed. This guy is obviously the cream of the crop. Like, for realsies. Bitches always be complainin' about guys who can't make them laugh. Jump on this one, ladies).

And finally, my absolute favourite:

like to suck pipe? - 30 (north calgary)

looking for chicks that like to get high and have sex with strangers -- i supply you service

(Translation: Better start picking out the wedding china).

I'm Gay For...

The forest.

Also-- a tree bed? Yes, please.

Thought of the Day

Fellas:
If you're shaking a lady's hand, please don't seize it and shake as if you just sold her a tractor.

I Like Mine Double Stuffed

As promised to one Ms. Tara Clancy,

I present.... all 31 ways.

• With a firm hand
• With a soft hand
• With curled fingers
• With your mouth
• On the go
• On the rag
• On the run
• With a nun
• With a bun
• Naked
• With a naked nun
• With a hand full of Vaseline
• With extra tomatoes
• With extra pickles
• With Don Rickles
• On the way to work
• On the way home
• On the way to Nome
• With a gnome
• With a gnu
• With Apu
• On your birthday
• On my birthday
• On Don Rickles' birthday
• On brown bread
• On white bread
• With Bill & Ted
• Without a haggle
• Without a Fraggle
• With a lit Bic
• With a lit mick

Hey Tara, remember that time YOU woke up in a shopping cart??

Puberty? What's that?!?

Say, Coach!
Why am becoming increasingly socially awkward? Why do my parents refuse to look me in the eyes anymore? Why do I smell funny? Why does George look at me like that?

Coach!? COACH!?

Cybersex Transcript

via Hokie

Enjoy.

bloodninja: Baby, I been havin a tough night so treat me nice aight?

BritneySpears14: Aight.

bloodninja: Slip out of those pants baby, yeah.

BritneySpears14: I slip out of my pants, just for you, bloodninja.

bloodninja: Oh yeah, aight. Aight, I put on my robe and wizard hat.

BritneySpears14: Oh, I like to play dress up.

bloodninja: Me too baby.

BritneySpears14: I kiss you softly on your chest.

bloodninja: I cast Lvl. 3 Eroticism. You turn into a real beautiful woman.

BritneySpears14: Hey...

bloodninja: I meditate to regain my mana, before casting Lvl. 8 Cock of the Infinite.

BritneySpears14: Funny I still don't see it.

bloodninja: I spend my mana reserves to cast Mighty F*ck of the Beyondness.

BritneySpears14: You are the worst cyber partner ever. This is ridiculous.

bloodninja: Don't f*ck with me b!%c#, I'm the mightiest sorcerer of the lands.
bloodninja: I steal yo soul and cast Lightning Lvl. 1,000,000 Your body explodes into a fine bloody mist, because you are only a Lvl. 2 Druid.

BritneySpears14: Don't ever message me again you piece of $#!%.

bloodninja: Robots are trying to drill my brain but my lightning shield inflicts DOA attack, leaving the robots as flaming piles of metal.
bloodninja: King Arthur congratulates me for destroying Dr. Robotnik's evil army of Robot Socialist Republics. The cold war ends. Reagan steals my accomplishments and makes like it was cause of him.
bloodninja: You still there baby? I think it's getting hard now.
bloodninja: Baby?

Films In-Depth: Terminator Salvation

Explosions. Dirty things. Lots of metal. No shots of Christian Bale without his shirt on.

Hated it.

Thought of the Day

What if BOTH sides of the pillow are too hot?

Friday Filmstrips

Just in case you haven't seen it....

Prop 8 The Musical

"Prop 8 - The Musical" starring Jack Black, John C. Reilly, and many more... from Jack Black

I'm Gay For...

Bruce Springsteen.

Then and now.

Where's The Fava Beans?

Somebody get this girl something to eat, stat. I must point out that she is actually not looking at the bread, but at Mommy's meaty paws.

And I'm not sure why, but she kind of reminds me of Kirsten Dunst. Maybe it's the sociopathic desperation in her eyes.

They Don't Make 'Em Like They Used To

I have never been more confused or felt stupider (stupider?!?) than I did after watching this ad. So wait.... they're Cornflakes, but they're made with rice? And corn?
And the pig. The pig?!? No wait, it's a chicken. But it's actually a cow.

The content is also shamelessly centered around the potency inherent in crunchy cereal. Please note the gun (American masculinity) that turns into a noodle (impotence) when pointed at a cow (the sacred female).

Oh, and the use of American Gothic= brilliant. Like, actually.

Also-- I dare you to watch this and not have it stuck in your head for the rest of the day.

Golly! A Weenie Roast!

This is a post-WWII short film in which a creepy man's disembodied voice instructs teenagers on how to be popular.
Highlights:

• Homoeroticism
• Nutrition deficiency resulting in confusion surrounding scarves vs. mittens
• Young girls answering the phone like 80-year old women
• Sluts with pointy breasts
• Phallic imagery
• Teen Town (?!?)
• Affirmation of established gender roles
• Financial instability
• Blanco-centric social values

Enjoy, my darling bitches!

Note: This is (I'm In Parentheses)'s first-ever video edit. Why didn't anyone tell me it was so difficult? I hate you all.

NAW!! Just kidding, I love you all! Especially you.

I'm Gay For...

Beer. Cold, frosty beer.

Thought of the Day

This recession blows goats for bus fare.

Tattoo FAIL

There is nothing more satisfying that seeing stupid people branded with marks equal to or greater than their own stupidity.

I can't write my disdain fast enough.

Let's explore the iconographic significance of this objet d'art:

• (Bugs?) Bunny, with pierced bunny ear and assymetrical hat angle for extra badassness= Tattoo owner is no friend to authority
• Early 90's-style peace sign tee= Allusion to the plight of Tibetans to gain independance
• Loose yet form-fitting slacks= Tattoo owner knows how to party, but can also clean up good for church and Grandma's house
• Nike high-tops= Socio-political commentary on the commodification of children as sweatshop workers
• Pole in hand= Obviously represents pole-vaulting. Duh.

Photo

Where Do You Work Out?

For your consideration, may I present:

...and...

Just sayin'.

Photo

Thy Will Be Done, But After Ours

In my meanderings of the interweb, I recently came across a piece of U.S history—words spoken by General Patton. Bad, rainy weather had immobalized his troops, and he decided to call upon higher powers to intercede.

General Patton: “Chaplain, I want you to publish a prayer for good weather. I’m tired of these soldiers having to fight mood and floods as well as Germans. See if we can’t get God to work on our side.”

The resulting prayer, which was distributed by the U.S. Army with Patton’s Christmas greetings, called upon God
“to restrain these immoderate rains with which we have had to contend. Grant us fair weather for Battle. Graciously harken to us as soldiers who call upon Thee that, armed with Thy power, we may advance from victory to victory, and crush the oppression and wickedness of our enemies, and establish Thy justice among men and nations. Amen”.

Translation:

Hey, God! We’re trying to win. Please stop the rain, which you, in your infinite wisdom, have decided to bless us with. We arm ourselves with your power, and AK47’s. Bazookas too, but mostly your power. Your power is soooooo powerful. It’s so powerful, it can create rain to water our crops and nourish our cattle so that we can eat and drink and survive. But stop the rain. Pretty please. We fight in your name, and in your name we pray, please stop exerting your power. Your will be done. Please conform to our will. Love, Us.

Thought of the Day

I hate it when people refer to Las Vegas as 'Sin City' in a non-ironic way.

I'm Gay For...

Watermelon. The jucier, the better.

This Just In: Crazy Bitch Smokes Pall Malls

The payoff comes at the 0:50 second mark.





Happy Tuesday, my lovelies.

Better Put On a Pot of Coffee, This Might Take a While

Like many of you, my life has been slowly eroding before my eyes. Swine flu, recession woes, global warming, anal leakage... It all eats away at our quality of life.

But now, we see a light at the end of the tunnel. Your favourite hooker-assaulting, meth-smoking TV pitchman, Vince Shlomi is back. Forget that crusty old bitch ShamWOW!, because the Slap Chop will survive in the historical archives marked 'Zeitgeist' for centuries to come.

I am honoured to present the first (I'm In Parentheses) screening of Vince Shlomi's Slap Chop. Enjoy.

3

2

1




Let's forget for a moment that this product hasn't existed for 17 years. Let's also forget that this product is so useless that we've each used this product exactly once in these past 17 years.

Instead, let us please turn our attention to the human embodiment of the divine that is Vince.

Where do I even fucking start?

"All day long, you're going to be slapping our troubles away." This is a pretty substantial statement, especially in light of Vince's recent assault on a prostitute by means of punching and... slapping. And though I feel that the obvious allusion to masturbation is far too lowbrow for this blog, I will nonetheless make reference to it.

I also love Vince's blessed advice to us all: "Stop having a boring tuna, stop having a boring life." Now, I haven't received my Liberal Arts degree YET, but since it is less than a year away from completion, I feel I am qualified to offer my literary assessment. This. is. poetry.
Not since Ezra Pound has the essence of the human experience been captured in so few words.

In closing, let us remember that if Vince can do it with one finger, we can do it with our whole hand.
Just keep slappin' away.

Thought of the Day

Perfect Strangers had the best intro and theme song ever.

After All, Easter is the Guilt Holiday

Let's talk logistics here:

• Buying eggs
• Hard boiling eggs
• Finding/buying crayons to write on aforementioned eggs
• Writing on eggs
• Dyeing eggs (multiple colours)
• Putting eggs in travel-safe container
• Carrying eggs to work
• Placing eggs strategically in fridge
• Awaiting (inevitable!) cleaning of fridge

Versus:

• Pull garbage can over to fridge
• Throw out all contents of fridge

I especially love the underlined "CLEAN" so as to add emphasis.

"Clean the fridge", as opposed to

"Strategically place pre-prepared Easter eggs in fridge to remind nameless entity other than oneself to clean fridge".

I am *so* glad I don't work in an office anymore.

Source

Spring Cleaning

Dear Sir,

Firstly, I would like to extend my kudos. I don't know how you were able to get my email address, but clearly you did some top-rate investigative work, and for this, I commend you.

Secondly, thank you. In my daily perusal of my emails, I happened upon your message. Granted, it was in my Junk Mail, but as they say, one man's trash is another man's treasure.

And this, my good man, was indeed treasure. The title you gave to this email is absolute poetry. In fact, I would like to present (in the Dadaist tradition), my first ever Found Poem:

Found Poem Alpha

Remove Toxic Sludge from your Colon.
As seen on Oprah.

Now, I can only attribute your (correct!) foresight to more of that stellar investigative genius. I do have toxic sludge in my colon, and it does need to be removed! Finally, I can now get the colon-refreshing relief that I so sorely need.

Again, thank you so very much. If I can ever repay you for this wonderful gift, please, do not hesitate to ask.

With warmest wishes and

sincerest thanks,

M. Wood.

I'm Gay For...

Blip.fm

Restaurant Review: Mother Tuckers

Ok, so I've been here many times. I grew up in Calgary, and this place has been around since before Woody Allen fucked his daughter.

A friend and I decided to go out for dinner, and he left the restaurant up to me. What shall I choose?

Being a red-blooded Canadian girl, I like a piece of meat between my teeth. Steak. But where?

"Hey Ryan, we haven't been to Mother Tuckers in a while. You wanna meet there at 6?" "Sure", he concedes, and the date is set.

Now, a little background: Said friend and I go way back to Grade 8, when one day, he walked into my homeroom classroom wearing a T-shirt that read "Ask me about my cat", with a picture of a kitten peeking out of a coffee mug. I commented on how much I loved it (still do), and we have been friends for lo these past 15 years.

We go out to dinner whenever he's in town (flight attendant), and Mother Tuckers has been one of our 'places' for many years. But for some reason, we stopped visiting the establishment about a year ago. Memory provides no apparent motive, hence my (ill-fated) decision to return.

That was mistake number one. Mistake number two came when we sat down, ordered our dinner via the transgendered server, and skipped off to the salad bar.

Horrors. Absolute horrors. Apparently, since we've been away, the restaurant has rented out much of it's salad bar to a family of fruit flies. I concetrated most of my attention of dry goods, such as croutons, and hoped for the best.

Shortly thereafter arrived the entrees. My scalloped potatoes were covered in brownish-tan chunks. Curious, I asked the server "What's this in the potatoes" and the prompt reply? "I don't know".

"Wait wait wait" I call after her as she walks away, "could you find out for me?" "Ya, ok" she agrees begrudgingly. Upon her return, I am informed of the ingredient in question: "Cheese" she says, "but probably way overcooked". Confident that this has cleared up any doubt surrounding the culinary merit of the dish, she again turns on her heel and walks away.

Left with nothing but my wits and "way overcooked" cheese, I err on the side of safety and decide not to consume the carbohydrate element of the meal. Focusing on my sirloin, I dig in. I didn't know it was possible for meat to be flavourless. Like, entirely deviod of flavour. I add salt. No dice. Pepper. Mmmm, my steak tastes like pepper now.

My friend fared mildly better, but his prime rib looked... off-colour. Nothing really obvious, but, you know when you look at someone's face and you just know they're about to puke? Now you see what I mean.

Upon procurement of the bill, I toddle off to pay my portion by means of debit. I ask the host "Where can I pay this on debit?" and he walks away. I follow. He turns around and sneers "No, wait over there, I'm going to go get it". A wireless debit machine! So modern. But he doesn't come back with a wireless debit machine. He comes back with a second copy of my bill. I explain I've already recieved it from the server. And-- here comes my favourite part of the evening-- he says "Well, you didn't have it in your hand when you came up to me the first time!" and snatches it from my hands. Not having moved more than two feet from where he left me, I certainly did have the bill in my hand. Stunned by the sheer rudeness, I handed him my debit card. He swipes, I punch away, and the transaction is completed.

Later, in the movie theatre, my friend's stomach starts to hurt. Big fucking suprise.

Rating: 2 fluorescent dinner rolls out of 5

Here, Smoke These!

No matter what, NEVER EVER tell your wife that the Newport Girl came out of the TV and handed you a pack of smokes. The old battle-axe just won't understand.

Thought of the Day

Phlegm is fucking gross.

I'm Gay For...

Used book stores.

RAVE: Twitter

Hey, are you on Twitter?
Hey, are you on Twitter?
Hey, what's up? Oh me, not much... Hey, are you on Twitter?

It's like, the best thing ever!!!

First, you create an account. Then, you search for people. Yay! Can't find anyone? Try searching again! Ok, still haven't found anyone? Ok, try searching one more time. Oh, oops, it appears you have exceeded your maximun search allottment for now. Please wait an hour and search again.

Now that you have a whopping 5 friends, you can update them! And, just as exciting, they can update you. Then, you update back! Actually, they're not on Twitter right now, you might want to wait the standard '1 hour - 8 days' which is the typical time between most Twitter updates. Unless of course, there are "Too Many Tweets" (cute!) and you can't update, in which case, just wait longer.

Why don't you just send a text message, you ask? Because these are the friends that you're really not friendly enough with to exchange numbers. Isn't that what Facebook is for? Well, yes... and no.

You see, Facebook allows you to interact with people in a much more complex manner. But who needs that in this work-a-day world? It's just *so* much better to express yourself in 140 characters or less. After all, the deepest and most consequential feelings can be expressed in 140 words or less:
"I love you"; "I'm really happy"; "I love pistachios"; "Where's the remote"; "John Mayer sucks"; "I hate when the remote is covered in pistachio crumbs"; "Where did that remote get to again?"

Hey, guess what?
I'm 'following' Anderson Cooper! And John Mayer! And Ashton Kutcher! I know, exciting, right?!?!? Well, actually, no, they didn't add, me. Um, no, I don't require their permission to 'follow' their updates. Why is this such a big deal? Because my life is such an empty vessel, I love attaching myself to more successful people so that when my 5 Twitter friends look at my profile, they see that I 'follow' famous people. No, this doesn't mark me as a shameless social climber, but as a Really Cool Person who has the connections to 'follow' famous people whose participation is not in any way required.

Hey! I gotta go now, but I'll text you later! Wait, scratch that... I'll just post an update! Are you on Twitter?

Pepsi Presents Faith

God loves you. He wants you to have a fuller, richer life.

He's thought about it for a while now, and he has some new tricks up his sleeve to make your life better.

Joel Osteen Ministries, Inc. presents....... THINGS©!

And not only Things... NEW Things©!

Tired of the old Things of deities past? Sick of God's gifts which never seem to change?

Now available, right from the Big Guy in the Sky, direct to your door, The New Things© of God will make you a believer all over again. Experience what it means to be one of the faithful in these hard times. Today's Christian knows that God's grace doesn't come in the form of wisdom, experience or miracles, but in Things©.

FAQ

What are these Things©? How will they improve my life?
The exact nature of JOM, Inc. Things© is a closely-guarded secret,
but you have the guarantee of Joel Osteen himself that his Things©
will dramatically improve the greatness-ocity of your life.

How do I get Things©?
By simply making a cash donation to Joel Osteen Ministries, Inc., you will recieve
The New Things of God©. (Cash dontations only please, no prayers, good

works, or acts of faith are redeemable for Things©).

Can I get Things© for my family and friends?

Of course! Things© make great gifts! Simply make a cash donation to J.O.M, Inc.,

and we will send you Things©. What could be more simple? Not sure what to get for

ther person who has everything? Why not buy The New Things© of God for:

• Weddings
• Anniversaries
• Birthdays
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• Divorces
• Civic Holidays
• Thursdays
• 3-Days Sober Celebrations
• Bar Mitzvahs
• Ramadan
• Ascension Day
• Colonial Independance

Things© also make great:

• Hostess Gifts
• Police Bribes
• Doorstops
• Coffee Table Decorations
• Salad Toppings
• Lures for Unsuspecting Children
• Grizzly Bear Repellents

The New Things© of God are now available, and supplies are limited! Get yours now!

Source (Unfortunately)

Happy Earth Day, Bitches!

Don't forget to recycle-- paper, water bottles, men.

There's a Yeast Joke In Here Somewhere...

Did you know-- a lot of brown bread is just white bread coloured brown?

All kinds of people are doing it!





I miss the good old days when it was perfectly natural to sexualize baking.

Thought of the Day

You can't get much cooler than Mickey Rourke.

Photo

I'm Gay For...

Louis XV-era French writing desks.

RANT: Creepy Next-Door Neighbour.

Hi!
It's me, the girl who lives next to you! I know you know who I am, because you've seen me walking into my apartment many, many times. I also have looked at you with scornful contempt after watching you dump disgusting garbage sans bag down the garbage chute.

I just wanted to send a quick note to say what a creep you are. I'm not sure what the specific infractions are, but I know that you're violating your parole.
When you make those frighteningly violent noises at about 1:30 in the afternoon, I have to put my textbook down to explore the possibilities. What are you doing to make such a sound? I would describe it as sounding like a bag of potatoes being hurled at a wood-panelled wall, followed by the wailing lament of damned souls.
I have reflected on this, for lo these past 3 years we have been sharing a wall, and I am now ready to present the only possible origins of the terrifying cacaphony:

1. You are a serial murderer/rapist a la Jeffrey Dahmer. I sincerely doubt this however, because I have an unsually well-developped sense of smell. Which leads to...

2. You share your apartment with an anal fissure-stricken water buffalo. Again, I would probably sniff this one out, so we move on to the most likely scenario...

3. You have 32 speakers pointed at our shared wall, and you watch "Cannibal Holocaust" every afternoon at full volume.

If this is correct, please signal that I have solved the riddle by remaining completely silent.

Sincerely,
Michelle

Anyone Need An Organ Transplant?

Because this ho doesn't deserve any of hers.
She decided it would be fun to jump into the polar bear enclosure at the Berlin Zoo to give a shout out to her favourite furry bitches. Apparently she timed it just right, too- feeding time. Enjoy.




Seriously. Someone needs to just take her liver and give it to some old Grandmother.

On The Next Episode Of "Mad Men"

Ok fellas, we've got the Lane Bryant account. Now, they've told us they're sweet-talkin' the Chubby demographic.

They've put together a Chubby Fashion book, full of Chubby-size clothes for the typical All-American Chubby.

Keep in mind boys, that this is not your father's Chubby. This is a new, bold and modern Chubby we're courting. We need to think outside the box on this one, and really sink our hooks into those Chubbies.

If we make good on this, the Husky account is gonna fall into our laps, like the food that falls out of the mouth of a Chubby.

Now. Who's gonna handle this one? How 'bout you, Jones? That wife of yours can give you some inspiration.

Let's break for lunch, and don't forget boys-- we need those Chubbies.

I'm Gay For...

Mr. Nutty - Peanut-encrusted chocolate Easter novelty.

Thought of the Day

Sometimes-- just sometimes-- it's OK to go without a shower for a week.

Um... No Chocolate For Me, Thanks....

I'm.... not even going to say anything.

Proselytism FAIL

I just went to get some coffee and on the way I FOUND A SAVIOUR!

... So many questions.

Let's begin: Why the excessive (ie. exclusive) caps?

I mean, I *guess* religious tracts found on kitchen appliances warrant caps. God certainly speaks and writes in caps.

As for Jesus... I'm not so sure. He probably gave God shit for writing in caps. He's all "Bitch, please".

This note also features one of my favourite usages of exclamation points: Excessive!

Or, rather, EXCESSIVE!!!!!!!!1!!!!!!

Because with each additional exclamation, I come closer to the Lord!!!!! Here I come, Sweet Baby Jesus!!!!!!!!! Testify, tell it to the sky!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I must note that there are 10 exclamation points in total. If the study of Renaissance art has taught me anything, it is the iconographic meaning of numbers in 15th and 16th century religious painting.

Mrs. Klondike (for such is her name) is clearly alluding to the 10 commandments. In addition, the 5 ellipsis points after her concluding statement refers to the 5 wounds of Christ, (an apt reference during this most sacred season of Lent). Combined, 10 + 5= 15. 1+5 =6, the number associated with Creation. The red font suggests The Passion, which is completed on Easter Monday.

Therefore, the iconographic interpretation is thus:

The body of Christ, residing in the Klondike Bar, is meant to be accepted as the Eucharist on Good Friday. There will be additional Klondike Bars purchased on Easter Monday, which will then undergo transubstantiation and be stored in the freezer next to the peas.


(In other words: Bitch, please. It's just ice cream).


Source

Thought of the Day

Gretchen Mol's breasts in "The Notorious Bettie Page" are perfect.

Just.... perfect.

Species: Puma Concolor Cougarus

Attn: Woman with Huge Newsanchor Hair

at the Gym.

Dear Hair,

I just wanted to go over a few things with you while I have your attention.

First of all, please don't ever give me that look again. Contrary to what you might believe, you are not hot shit. You're not even hot tuna. You are a cranky 45 year-old crusty bitch. It's not my fault your vagina dried up and fell off.

Secondly, it's a gym. People go there to work out (ie. exercise). No matter how you slice it, one set of three reps on each machine does not constitute exercise. I can see just by looking at you that you're not the type of gal who likes to sweat, but if you're going to go to the gym and sit on the machine that I'm waiting to use, at least make an attempt to look like you're getting something out ot it. To be honest, I'm not sure why you even joined a gym. Your workouts last about 15 minutes in their entirety, and when you get on a machine, I suspect you do so because you simply need a place to sit.

And lastly, the hair. "Who's hair?" you ask, looking around in every direction. Your hair. Now, I know that popular Cougar-Bar trivia games remind us that hair is, in fact, dead. I concede this point. But I feel that you might have taken this fact and decided that there's no point in nourishing something that's dead. I completely agree (and so do many of my late plants).

But-- and here's the rub-- something dead attached to something living is legally able to claim status as a semi-living entity. I would suggest conditioner, but frankly, it's too late for that. May I suggest olive oil, followed by a leave-in treatment of clarified butter (or ghee, as my Indian friend says). That should be the first step in restoring movement to your hair. I don't mean texture and body, but actual, visible movement.

Please take these suggestions to heart.

And if you're ever rude to me again, I will set a cougar trap for you next to the Ab Glider and tell our fellow gym-goers you're the one who leaves puddles of sweat on the machines.

Ta,

Michelle

Photo

Where The Buffalo Roam

My Dream House

Highlights:

-Library (no paperbacks, thank you) with a large writing desk mit blotter. Next to said desk are antique cut-crystal decanters filledwith scotch (namely Glenkinchie) and free flowing wine (Chateauneuf-du-Pape or even a nice Cotes du Rhone will do just fine). Oh yes, and a large globe. So fucking civilized.

-French country kitchen with marble-topped counters, fines herbes growing in a pot on the windowsill

-Manor-style four poster canopy bed

-Did I mention the wine and books?

(Sadly, I will never, ever get to own this gem located en Provence because I have chosen the underpaid profession of elementary school teacher. I will tenderly mould the soft brains of your over-indulged children, just so they can get hooked on crystal meth at 17 and move out with their 32 year-old boyfriend named Jason.)

Don't Shoot the Messenger

Or, shall I say "Preese, no shoot me, humbre Westerna man!!"




I know, right?!?!?! I love how this video has been assigned the tag 'Borderline Racist'. If this is borderline anything, it's the borderline between a Bob Hope stand-up routine and a typical Saturday night with the Klan.

I feel that I must bring attention to the fact that, while this ad ran in the 60's, I was born in 1981 and I can remember colouring with Crayola crayons which had colours named 'Indian Red' and 'Flesh' (that is to say, caucasian flesh. Obviously, they made the same mistake as those crazy Old Testament writers who confused skin with flesh. "Oy, what a mistake I've made!" says Rabbi Krustofski).

This abominaiton is actually *terribly* appropriate for me to have found today, because mere hours ago, I attended a lecture on Orientalism at my post-secondary home away from home.
Edward Said, this one's for you, big daddy.

(By the way, I'm pretty sure Poor Chinese-Type Baby's mother is Betty Rubble. I always knew she would leave Barney... I bet she caught him and Fred 'polishing' each other's 'bowling balls'.)

Lap Jockey, Take Two

Is it just me, or does this REALLY look like Katherine Hepburn? Not even like young K. Hep, but the Kathy we know from On Golden Pond? Was she still getting it regular at that age?

Anyway, I digress.

I've become increasingly fascinated with these ads-- they all seem to follow the same formula:

*Clean (aka caucasian middle-class) 'girl' to tempt the unsheathed member.
*Hold on there, cowboy!
*Revelation of sluttishness and disease.
*The more you know

Also-- "prophylaxis"? Is this the state of being equipped with slash wearing a prophylactic? It kind of sounds like some weird German sex fetish involving choking on a condom.

In other news, Kittens.

Thought of the Day

Hey, Winter!
Fuck you.

Just Released: Grapefruits are Awesome!

This infomercial has the same confusing, misplaced aggression as my current favourite, "ShamWOW!" .

Also, please note the 'Before' at the 0:57 mark... I'm pretty sure it's Mama Cass.

Why I Love St. Patrick's Day

1. Green in the new black.

2. Puke is the new yack.

3. Some of my favourite people are Irish.

4. Slutty girls at the bar rubbing up on guys all day long as if it were 1:30am.

5. Number 12 green food dye makes whoever you're talking with look like they just gave a sloppy BJ to the green CareBear. (I'm looking at you, McTeer).

6. Everyone busts out a story relating the purported Irish-ness of their lineage. "My uncle's third wife was married to an Irish guy".

7. Three words: Leprechauns are hung.

Hey, Predictive Text!

You fucking suck!

Or, if I hadn't corrected you, "Your ducking pucker"!

Over the years, I have had my phone in my pocket right next to my no-no bits, I've answered it post-coitus, and I've even sent a text message on the toilet.

But even with these levels of deep intimacy, I have yet to figure out the intricacies that make up my phone's predictive text function.
Ok, I'll admit it. I like to swear. A lot. perhaps it's not so much a fondness as a nervous tick. I digress.

When I choose to express my discontent for a grade I have received from my post-secondary professor, I feel that it is not some software application writer's decision how I express it.
No matter how you slice it, "That's apricgq haven't medication a ducking a!" just doesn't express my fury like "That asshair gave me a fucking B!".

Because, let's face it, folks, there is no such thing as an apricgq. They went extinct the same year as the entaidbag.

No one, nowhere, wants to "Dual" your "Aunt" all night long, nor are they interested in seeing your "Thus" shake like a "Solarmid" picture.

Sigh. I guess I'll just have to go back to Multi Tap.

That's what she said.

Photo Source