Maniacal Musings Part Two

–I heard French fry vending machines may be popping up in the U.S. They’re already in Belgium and making their way to Iran, Croatia, and Chile. And some people have the nerve to say there is no God.

Actually, I believe this gets us one step closer to the morbidly obese futuristic world portrayed in WALL-E.

–I’m tired of looking at Miley Cyrus’s pelvic muscles just like everyone else, but after she recently hosted Saturday Night Live, I see this headline, “MILEY BLASTED BY STROKE ASSOCIATION OVER SNL TONGUE JOKE.” First of all, who knew there was a stroke association, because I sure as hell didn’t. Secondly, it’s a satirical comedy show, and she most certainly didn’t write her own lines. The joke in question was during the opening sketch where Miley was asked, why she keeps sticking her tongue out.


Her response, “I’m having tiny strokes, yo!”

Oh Lawd! Then here comes the stroke police, “Mini strokes are no laughing matter…and sticking your tongue out is not a sign of having one.” Look, my own mother had a mini stroke and a massive stroke, and I still believe EVERYTHING in life is a laughing matter. As a matter of fact, laughing at life’s tragedies can be quite healing. Good grief, jokes about strokes even rhymes, they’re totally meant to go together! Calm your tits, Stroke Association, and realize making jokes about serious matters does in no way, shape, or form take away from their seriousness.

–Fact: I don’t care how old you are, if a brand new box of 64 Crayola crayons does not bring you joy, then you have no soul. I hope the, “Soul Association” doesn’t blast me for saying that because being soulless is no laughing matter.

–It’s, “Tales of the Tampon” time! I was told the most awesome story by a friend the other day. Most importantly I have her permission to share it. (I’ll condense the story to save time and sanity) She was on her way to work where they can’t easily get to their lockers during breaks. She had the genius idea of throwing the tampons she needed in her lunch bag, so she could conveniently snatch’em from the break room. Which of course means THEY ARE SITTING IN THE REFRIGERATOR. It never occurred to the woman this would create a tampon with an undesired side effect. Which is called, “Brrrr vagina Syndrome.” She tried rubbing it between her hands to no avail. She walked around for about ten minutes being violated by the cold intrusion. Luckily, no one asked what was wrong. Unfortunately, a bit of her self-confidence in the ability to think things through died that day. I enjoyed this story immensely, and the more you picture it, the more enjoyable it becomes. At least her lunch was not required to go in the freezer. However, there is a part of me that wants to put one in the refrigerator out if curiosity. Don’t judge.


Some of these might come in handy…

Mom, Can I Watch Hookers?

My daughter came up to me yesterday and asked, “Have you seen the show Top Hooker.”

Stunned, not believing she said, what I think she said, I say, “Did you say Top Cooker?” Keep in mind she has been watching Food Network a lot.

“HHHHookkeeerrrrrr.”

Never hearing my 10-year-old say this word before and not quite understanding why she’s saying it now, I mentally prepare to have a long talk with her, and find out how in God’s name did she come across this program. Not to mention the fact, if I thought reality TV was getting ludicrous before, well, I assure you, we are all going for a ride on Satan’s rollercoaster, if prostitutes are in fact vying for top prize during primetime family viewing. And what is the top prize – Pimp of your choosing? Lifetime supply of condoms? Upgrade to stripper? Hopefully the prize is counseling and vaginal reconstructive surgery.

Is part of the competition who can stay STD free the longest? Who can hook-in the most sad, pathetic, perves, in one night without wearing two push-up bras, a skank suit and clown makeup?

But all of this thinking was for not. “Mom, it’s on Animal Planet. Have you seen it or what?”

“Uh, what do they do on this show?”

“They catch fish.”

“Oh.”

“Well, whoever ‘hooks’ the most fish or something. I saw a preview but didn’t watch it, but I wanted to know if it was interesting.”

Obviously, I hadn’t watched it or heard of it. But, they know what they did with that title. I’m not sure I approve of the preview I watched online either. If you wanna check it out http://animal.discovery.com/tv-shows/top-hooker/videos/who-will-be-americas-first-top-hooker.htm and this is the first picture I see when I look up the show. Soooo, yeeeaaahhh…….

atophook

It may not be what I originally thought but I have some reservations about my daughter watching it.

Maniacal Musings

— A flexing anus in my face. Nails trying to claw my eyes out. The dogs. They are the only alarm clock I need.

— No matter how many times I look up the word “necessary” I cannot retain its correct spelling. Spellcheck just fixed it, again. My brain is holding some sort of grudge against it. It seems to be my word Bermuda triangle. I always get lost in the middle, scramble around, get disoriented, and never find my way out.

— I don’t like the hour 4pm to 5pm. Yeah, I don’t know. I need therapy to figure that one out.

— You never know when an anonymous threatening letter will need to be put together. Which is apparently why I have one year’s worth of Entertainment Weekly magazines. Or maybe one day my daughter will need to do a book report on the Hunger Games

— I am a 33-year-old, white, married, mother of one, living on the Oregon coast, and all day today April 4, 2012, I’ve had a song stuck in my head. The song: I’m In Love With A Stripper By: T-Pain

Fucking idiot! My lips enjoy nothing better, than forming those words. I love the way it sounds, I love the way it feels. It warms me like a fresh spring day.

— Someone, anyone, please hear my plea. For the greater good of the world, please stop making Nicholas Sparks books into movies. He can write a million books, but his stories must stop being put on the big screen. Putting absurdly good-looking people in those movies doesn’t make them worth your time, your money or you know, improve the story in any way.

P.S. Here is the plot of them all: Love feels good. Love hurts. Love is bittersweet. Love is a bitch, then someone must die. However, if you feel like you might be an emotional cripple, then go ahead, watch these sappy piles of poo, and test your tear-o-meter.

All sarcastic quips aside, individually some of these movies have qualities that may qualify them as, “okay.” But as a collective they’re too much. Just too much…of something.

Top Aggros This Week #2

In no particular order…

1. Makers of the Playstation. We recently joined the rest of the universe and bought a PS3 and it does not play Playstation 2 games, but will play some of the original Playstation games. Smarty pantsies who make this shit, that doesn’t make any type of goddamn sense. I would like to add, thanks for the streaming Netflix ability. It really…well…doesn’t suck.

2. Uninvited Acquaintance Door Knockers: Do not hop, skip, jump, walk, or drive your happy ass to my front door on a Saturday morning if we are not true friends, and you have not given me a heads up. Courtesy is quite easy to look up on Dictionary.com. I say that because I fear a lot of homes do not have a physical Dictionary anymore.

3. Idiot School Parking Lot Drivers: My daughter’s school has a very small, uncomplicated parking lot. Unfortunately, many parents at 8am have their heads up their ass.

Why for the love of all that is holy, would you stop two feet into the entrance. Common-sense should tell you to pull all the way up near the doors. On top of your original cluster-fuck-dick-move, you then refuse to look over your left shoulder and almost hit me. For some reason it doesn’t occur to you a line is quickly forming into the street, so some of us with god given sense go around, and pull up all the way.

After my child is safely inside the school I quickly get home, and into the shower, so I can wash the dumb off that you dumped all over the parking lot.

I’m going to do some research in this town, and find out which body shop people like the most, and then I’m going to let your ass hit me. That will then give me an excuse to get out of my car, and burn you with rampant, verbal violations.

4. The Cinnamon Challenge: Up until last night I had no idea what this was. For those of you that are clueless to this consider yourselves lucky. But if your curiosity gets the best of you, simply type in Cinnamon Challenge on YouTube and delve into the insanity. Basically the challenge is to swallow a spoonful of cinnamon without choking. So of course when a claim is floating around the internet that you can’t do something without the possibility of hacking up your life essence, everyone must make a video challenging the grim reaper. Honestly, I don’t know if it would kill you, but I’m just being extreme, because the whole concept is some fucktard bullshit. But hey, whatever it takes to pass the time. More power to all the participants. Good luck, and don’t let your mother find out.

P.S. If you want real factoids, the Cinnamon Challenge started back in 2001 and had been posted on a blog of someone I’ve never heard of. The earliest YouTube version was supposedly in 2006. The Actual dare of this genius game is to swallow without vomiting or inhaling the powder.

But I am not a fact fairy. I am a writer who enjoys putting a humorous spin on life. These facts were a courtesy.

Assault On The Precious

I recently purchased an exercise bike.

All I have to do now is:

-Get up in the morning

-Take the kid to school

-Take care of the dogs

-Have coffee

-Then hop on, and peddle away these pesky pounds!

Well, almost instantly I had regrets.

I haven’t been on any kind of bike in donkey’s years. I was warned that my back, legs, and arms would probably suffer for a while. None of those were a problem. The problem was the violent attack from the bicycle seat on my precious. I could only tolerate the assault for a few minutes before I dislocated my uterus.

I tried everything to make the seat bearable, and not feel like I was being violated. I folded a towel over the seat—no. I placed a pillow under my toosh—not only looked ridiculous, but was absolutely in no way comfortable. Finally, I ran to the internet and found another seat.

I found some the same shape, but wider. I thought that would work, but then I saw the seat sent from heaven. It is a seat made without the assault on the crotch part. It’s just two moving butt cheek pieces. I would like to meet the person who had the wisdom to make this seat. This creation has put a stop to the senseless intrusive act against my body.

Of course it’s not plush and super comfortable, but what did my fat ass expect. At least I am able to go long enough to work up a sweat, as I catch episodes of The Real Housewives of Orange County.

THE DEVIL a.k.a. Crotch Assaultinator

SLICE OF HEAVEN

Hot Booties: Proof The World Really Is Coming To An End

Last night at 10:55 P.M. my world changed forever. I encountered a commercial that was a sign for “The End Times.”

Because let me tell you something–when a product is created that requires for the consumer to place it in a microwave, and THEN goes from ones microwave to ones feet, then I am sorry, but something has gone terribly wrong, and humans no longer deserve the earth.

I am speaking of a product obviously from the devil himself called, Hot Booties. “Soothing heat to treat your feet,” says the commercial. Yeah, okay, heat on your feet to prepare your ass for fire and brimstone because you fell for this fuckery.

Alright, let me get real about the product for a second. The devil booties are filled with linseed that supposedly absorbs and holds heat. Each set comes with a bootie bag that is used to place the booties in the microwave to heat. The bag is supposed to be so your microwave stays sanitary, but seriously will the bag never end up on the floor? And yes, you can wash the bag, but then do you want your microwave to smell like a spring day?

You can purchase not one, but two pairs for $14.99. The deal being, buy one get one free, but you pay almost $16.00 in processing and handling for two pairs. And if you think that the linseed won’t start to get all “funny” in a short time, then you would be so very wrong.

The cherry on top of this idea are Tim and Taylor, who do the online commercial. Where do they find these infomercial people? Do they send them to How To Be Annoying As Fuck And Brainwash America school? Either they both did a line of crack-cocaine before the camera started rolling, took a handful of Ritalin, or got shot with B-12 right into their bloodstream.

Maybe I’m helping sell this crime against heaven and earth but check out the commercial for yourself at the link below. Beware: You might get sucked in and order them. And I won’t even hold it against you.

https://www.orderhotbooties.com/?tag=im|sm|go|tm&a_aid=011&a_bid=6151f0c2

Do They Put Meth in Vitamins?

Yesterday, I felt like I had been on my vitamin regiment for a week, but I checked where I marked the calendar, and it had only been 3 days. I then wondered if I was a time travelling demon, because I could have sworn it had been a full week. Anyhow, I can already feel a difference. I’ve started a liquid multi, B-12, and 4 various tablet vitamins. I also bought a bottle of flaxseed oil, because the tablets I found only came in boulder size.

I should have gone with the possibility of choking to death. You will never see me on the reborn Fear Factor, because I couldn’t even get a little liquid omega 3, 6, and 9 down my throat. It smells like fish oil, and the taste, and texture is horrid.

Back to the difference I’ve noticed. I’m experiencing a get up and go, go, go, now, now, now sensation. I had opened my eyes around 4am on a day my husband was off from work. I laid in bed thinking, wow I am so freakin’ ready to get up, and if I do, think of all the extra crap I could get done. I could barely see his face but I still stared through my hubs wondering, when is HE going to get up, Jeez, come on already! I’m up–why isn’t he up! I eventually talked myself out of rising, because if I did the dogs might have went off like hungry hell hounds, and disturbed the whole house at 4am. My daughter doesn’t have to get up for school until 7am so I didn’t want to chance it.

Through out the day I’m finding myself having the urge to clap and cheer to the family, like an overly perky high school cheerleader. Now, anyone who knows me would never use the word “perky” to describe me. I have no desire to even be “perky.” Honestly, the word “perky” makes me think of the type of white girl that I am not, nor ever have been.

But, it’s these goddamn vitamins!

The thing that’s really weird is even with all this new found excitement coursing through my veins…I still bleeping hate exercising. As the kids say these days…FML.

10 Confessions Of A Heavy Housewife

1. Once again I’m determined to lose weight and live a healthier life style. I vow to workout at least five days a week, and vacuuming, scrubbing the toilet, and folding laundry totally count. As a matter of fact lets add cooking dinner as legit exercise.

2. I ordered two of Jillian Michaels exercise dvd’s from Amazon. And seeing them sit on top of the dvd player makes me feel good about myself already.

3. I’ve considered becoming an alcoholic to lose weight. My grandmother lived on boxed wine and never gained a pound.

4. Dairy Queen’s menu is not very accommodating to my new life style. But I make it work for me by asking for extra lettuce and an extra tomato on my heavily battered crispy chicken sandwich.

5. I’ve told my husband, who is a slender man, that he better not get too skinny, but if he ever told me I better not get too fat, I would shank him in his sleep.

6. If I’m having a bad day or getting down on myself that’s the perfect time to go channel surfing for mind numbing T.V., because I’d always rather be me than any “Real Housewives of (Insert City)” Or “(Insert Whatever Husband Does So Wife Has Plenty Of Time To Fight With Other Women Over
Shit That Doesn’t Make Any Sense And Could Simply Be Solved With The Slightest Bit Of Basic Communication) Wives.”

7. A year ago I bought a pair of skinny jeans and still haven’t tried them on. I just feel it was a lapse in judgement. You can say as long as it’s in your size, you should be able to wear what everyone else is wearing, but no, this is not always the case. At this time nothing with the word skinny attached to it should be anywhere near my body. Skinny jeans in a size 18 are like a fake friend who says you look thin and lovely. When really you look like your ass is suffocating, and have a camel toe violating the eyes of the general public.

8. In the last few years I’ve gained weight making me the heaviest I’ve ever been. I practically live in sweat pants since I refuse to buy new clothes with the hopes of losing the weight. Right now I have two pairs of jeans I can still wear. And when I do squeeze into a pair, that means I am “dressed up.”

9. Hiking with my husband is annoying as bleep. He doesn’t even break a sweat, breathe heavy, need to take a break, lose the feeling in his legs, or feel like his heart is going to burst into flames. F.y.i. I experience one or more of the above. Bleep hiking. Bleep trails. I like flat land walking, thank you very much.

10. Yes, we (fat women) passionately loathe skinny twats who can eat whatever they want, all day, all night, and never exercise. Especially when they’re shoveling food in their tiny mouths they talk about how they eat so much, never gain weight, and never exercise. We consider causing them bodily harm. A little nudge into traffic here, a little push down some stairs there, and perhaps a little sharpy, stabby, in the corner over yonder.

P.S. Most of this probably shouldn’t be taken too seriously. Let’s eat some red velvet cake! Just kidding, no cake. How about some yogurt that turns your home into a house of lies with its promise on the container to taste like cake. Yum.

What We All Need Less Of In 2012…In My Opinion

Let’s start with less of these things in 2012:

– The never-ending black hole of celebrity news and the convoluted media.

– Reality show personalities getting rich for being train wrecks.

I do not want to-be-all-up-in any celebrities personal business. And no one else should want to be either. I don’t give a bleep if Justin Bieber fathered a child. I don’t give a bleep if he cheated on his girlfriend, and I definitely don’t care what they did on a date night. I’m sure he is a swell human being, but all that needs discussing is his music, not where the hell he took his girlfriend for dinner. I don’t care about Kim Kardashian’s wedding nor do I give a flying crap about her divorce a few months later. Why the world feels this is such a priority it must be announced every 2 minutes in the media, and gets air time on news tickers is beyond my comprehension. Some celebrity news is fine to a degree, but the subjects being reported on and the amount of time spent on such reports have gotten out of hand. Way, way out of hand.

If an alien race looked down upon the earth from space and studied us they would believe us to be the easiest mind controlled sheep in existence, and they might be right. The media have led us to believe we must know every single move a person in the spot light makes. It also pushes upon us that they are more important than anything else on God’s green earth and may in fact be Gods themselves.

Another thing that would make the world a better place, is if we could cut back on the amount of people getting ridiculously rich off of being train wrecks. For example: The cast of Jersey Shore. Let me add I have watched this show, and I have even caught a few episodes of Keeping Up With The Kardashians, but shit has gone beyond a place it should have never been allowed to go. Not only does the Jersey Shore cast get paid an unreal, underserved, amount of money per episode, but then most of them come out with these crap products. They’ve “written” books, (put their names on a cover of a book) have spray tanning, lotions, beauty products, slippers, all attached with their names. And some of you out there have the audacity to purchase these items and allow them to continue to laugh their butts off all the way to the bank.

This irks the bleep out of me, when people with real talent are trying to make things happen, and when I think about hard-working bastards just trying to provide for their families, and these douchebags (who might actually be very lovely people in “real” life) come along taking advantage and manipulating society into allowing them to make a living acting like idiots, getting drunk, and fighting on television.

Look, all the reality shows full of nonsense can last forever for all I care. I watch some of them, but that doesn’t mean they should get paid enough to buy an island. They also shouldn’t be worshiped like they have done something that actually matters.

As far as celebrity news, I know it’s not a new subject but It seems to be getting worse. We do not need every detail of someone else’s life. Complete loss of privacy should not be what a celebrity is signing up for. It should not be part of the job. We don’t need to be up in their marriages, divorces, births, etc. I especially think the media needs to stay out of their kids faces. The only entertainment news that is required should focus on movies, television, and music that a celebrity is involved with. For the love of God please stop telling me what someone is saying, wearing, eating, purchasing, who they stood next to, and who they are rumored to have slept with every five seconds.

Sometimes too much media coverage on a celebrity has turned me off from their work that I had previously enjoyed. The media kept violating my mind with his quotes and actions and have now ruined my viewing of his movies.

When all is said and done I know the media coverage of celebrities and “celebrities” will not lessen. The public demand for it will most likely never waver. It makes us feel closer to who we view as “awesome” people and maybe makes us feel a little awesomer. But the public needs to realize we’re all awesome in our own right and don’t need a reply on twitter from Snooki to be important.

P.S. I wrote this while watching a Jersey Shore marathon…haha.

Spam In A Can: A Love Story

Many people have yet to try the godsend of Spam in a can. Just the mere mention of the word Spam to some people will bring on an over exaggerated mimicking of vomiting. To these people I say, don’t knock it ’till you try it, and as much as I don’t understand it, a few people just happen to not care for processed meats in general like hot dogs, and bologna.

Except for Philippine and Hawaiian cultures, who inhale the stuff because it has been integrated into their world for one reason or another, a lot of people feel this processed block of nitrates is beneath them. But a lot of those same people (from my experience) will shove a hot dog down their throat like a competitive eater. As a matter of fact if you compare the ingredients on some hot dog packages to a can of Spam the canned meat wins. Now if you compare with an expensive uppity brand of hot dogs, it won’t fair as well. A cheaper dog has up to 15 different ingredients, 2 of which make me look like an idiot in front of my 8-year-old. I have to sit here and sound them out like an illiterate trying to read for the first time. Spam on the other hand says: Pork w/ ham, salt, water, modified potato starch, sugar, and sodium nitrite.

So when you have to pinch pennies maybe hide the fact it’s Spam from your picky family. Maybe fry it up, stick in between a hamburger bun, with a load of condiments (like the picture above, doesn’t it look pretty), and perhaps they won’t ask any pesky questions like, “What the hell is this!”

When I was a kid we were quite financially handicapped for a while, so when I saw that gold or silver sheen followed by a dark blue rectangle come out of a brown paper back, (hell, I was just happy to see a brown paper bag, because that meant someone went to the grocery store) I thought it must be freakin’ Christmas! I’ll never forget the actual thought that flashed through my head as a little girl, we are going to eat sooo good tonight! I couldn’t wait for my mom to unroll the metal top. Nowadays it’s a pussified pop top. Back in my day you had to work for that shit!

We would totally eat it “raw” too. None of that frying it up crap. I hadn’t even heard of eating it any other way until I was an adult, and didn’t really touch the stuff anymore. My mom would simply slice it up like a Christmas ham, and we made our smoke flavored, salty, moist sandwiches with lots of mayo.

Until about six months ago, I hadn’t purchased a can of Spam in my adult life, and the only reason I did (and the only reason my husband let me) is because we live in a tsunami zone on the west coast. So we try to keep a supply of food that can be used in emergencies. It went straight into our catastrophe food supply. Who knows, it might even become currency in a crazy apocalyptic situation.

Craigslist Buffoonery

Currently I’m selling a few household items on Craigslist for extra cash with the bonus of knowing I’m not attached to all of my possessions like a hoarder. This runs in the family so I like to check on myself from time to time. I’m good. Anyways, even when I’m not using it as an internet yard sale I browse through different states and cities from time to time and thought I would share some of the baffling, kinda funny shit I come across. Also, I recently caught wind of the ad that made headlines about the woman selling her husband under “free stuff” as a joke, and that is hardly the craziest thing you will find if you browse it on a regular basis.

– Wanted: Fake Girlfriend: I am seeking a fake girlfriend to attend my sister’s wedding. No pay. Free trip. Lots of free food. Here kitty, kitty…(That was word for word. This either turned out really well or really bad. For all involved. And that “here kitty, kitty” was as about as creepy as you can get.)

– Writing Gigs: Heroin Addicts: I’m interested in learning more about heroin. Seeking subjects currently addicted to the drug. Thank you. (The ad didn’t mention pay but unless there was I can’t imagine many “subjects” jumped at the chance. I am also not sure how many heroin addicts are skimming the writing gig ads. They probably should have placed the ad in a more drug addict user-friendly location. But who knows.)

– Writing Gigs: Note Writer: Seeking writer for prewritten custom suicide notes for loved ones, co-workers and Facebook. (What. Did. I. Just. Read. What the friggen’ hell! …and for Facebook. This explodes so much wrongness I can’t wrap my head around it.)

– Writing Gigs: Blog Writer Needed: Need a decent writer with a blog to interview me to help my business. I know it sounds egocentric and ridiculous, but I figure if someone writes an article about me as if people should give a shit, then maybe they will. Just trying to think outside the box, like all the business gurus preach. Contact me if you’re up for it. (Good for him or her. Nothing wrong with thinking way outside the box.)

– Writing Gigs: Free Story Idea: This story is about an extraterrestrial visitor- The main character of the movie Starman (1984), his Mother. She comes to Earth looking for her grandson and the magic orbs. I have worked on this story for many many years. And given up on it, equally as long. I am happy to give it freely. In the back of my mind, I always had a hunch, I would be giving it away, if someone was interested. If you are, feel free to contact me at the email above. All the best. (This is odd on many levels and yet my heart breaks for this person.)

When it comes to innocently trying to sell items on Craigslist it is asking for the buffoonery to be a part of your daily life. I foolishly thought how simple it would be. List items and wait for people in my area to contact me. Well no, it doesn’t work that way. What actually happens is if you wish to be contacted through email you will receive a massive flood of scam emails. Now if the first contact email was a clear scam I wouldn’t have been as irritated. But they mostly sound like a real legitimate person interested in your item. You know, by saying something like, “Hello, I am interested in your item. When can I come by and take a look?” I send off a reply and then I get back this junk.

– Hello, I really wanted your item but my son just crashed my car. Thank God he is okay. But now my car has a huge dent that I have to pay for. I have plenty of money but after this I don’t know. In fact I made all of my extra cash with tips at this website”____” You should check it out. My sister is even doing great with these tips. But only so many people can take advantage of this so please don’t tell anyone about it.

I received about fifty of these word for word. A huge waste of my time.

I did get some real buyers after weeding through all the craziness. But then unnecessary crap kept-a-comin’. Emails saying, “Hey, just call me.” Others offering me quadruple what I was asking if I would give them my paypal account information. Um, nooo. And someone felt the need to send me quotes from famous people. That’s it. Just quotes. Over and over. What. The. Fuck. Is. The. Point.

Top Things That Make Me Aggro This Week

I feel another list coming on…in no particular order

1. The wind machine the television show Xfactor annoyingly uses during almost every performance. Even on the guys for Christ sakes! You do not have the “Xfactor” just because you can tolerate artificial wind in your face. It’s not the contestants fault but the peeps in charge should know better.

2. Teenagers who fuck around at the little kids park in town and can’t watch their fuckin’ mouths. Have some respect.

3. This sleepy feeling that haunts me all day whenever the time changes.

4. Running into the same people everyday who piss me off.

5. Kim Kardashian and every other Kardashian.

6. Potato pancakes. Saw a guy make some on a cooking segment during the local news – super gag.

7. Raging douchebags who feel the need to make idiotic, ignorant, unnecessary ass comments.

8. Low budget commercials that throw a baby in the mix. Just saw an RV commercial with a baby that wasn’t securely propped up. It was bobble heading around with white sunglasses and they gave it a 5o year old smokers voice. How does this sell RV’s?