Tuesday, November 5, 2013

Marriage Isn't for You, It's for the Lasagna and the Health Insurance

Do it for your stoner roommate
If you've been on Facebook in the last few days, you've seen this blog post that has renewed hope for all of your friends approaching thirty and in a shittyish relationship. They think they're being subtle...they'll just post this little linky on their page, and he's going to read it and realize that he shouldn't be happy, he should try and make you happy so that you can both struggle to maintain some semblance of a mediocre existence until one or both of you die. It's beautiful, really.

Today, in the same vein, I share with you a pensive reflection of one man's battle with the decision to bake a lasagna.
Written by the very funny comedian and writer, Matthew H. Davis.

Having first baked lasagna an entire year and a half ago, I’ve recently come to the conclusion that baking lasagna isn’t for me.
But hey, before you make any assumptions about my taste in cuisine, hear me out.
I first tasted lasagna when I was still in high school, and it was magical. Super cheesy. Fresh ricotta. I enjoyed lasagna for ten whole years… until, well, I decided I better learn how to make my own. Hehe. And from personal experience, if you want to take the step into baking lasagna, I think it’s imperative that you’re goddamn sure you love it. It’s truly makes all the difference. :)
Yet, falling deeply in love with the idea of baking my own lasagna – regardless of the fact that I adored it – didn’t exempt me from anxieties of baking for myself. The nearer the ingredients and I came to the actual baking, though, the more I was paralyzed with fear. What if it wasn’t cheesy enough? What if I burned the top? Was it lasagna truly right for me?
Then, one dreary, fateful night, I shared these thoughts and concerns with my dad.
Perhaps many of us have these moments in our lives, when time slows down, when every other moment in your life, you realize, was just leading to this moment – and it made complete sense – that I was supposed to have this conversation.

It’s burnt in my memory like scorched lasagna in a regular ass – non-stick-free – pan.
With a knowing smile that only a father, who’s enjoyed countless lasagnas in his lifetime can have, he said, “Matt, you’re being selfish. So I’m going to make this easy for you: Baking lasagna in the oven isn’t for YOU, you dickhole. You don’t bake lasagna for your own happiness; you bake lasagna to make other people happy. You’re baking lasagna for deadbeat roommates. But not just the people that will be there to enjoy your masterfully baked lasagna, no, but for the side dishes. What would they be without the lasagna? Your lasagna? Baking the lasagna isn’t for you. IT’S NOT ABOUT YOU. Baking lasagna is about the people you’re baking the lasagna for, Matt. And the side dishes.”
It was then, that something changed inside of me. A moment of clarity, if you will.  I knew baking lasagna was what I wanted. I realized then I wanted to make my stoner roommates smile, to make them happy for days with leftovers. I hadn’t thought about the side dishes, I wanted to be a part of something bigger, an entire dinner. And thinking about all the times I’d seen other people liking lasagna, I knew that it was time.
My father’s advice was shocking to me. It went against the grain of today’s philosophies, that if you don’t want to bake lasagna, if you don’t think that will make you happy, that you can just go out to OLIVE GARDEN and buy some of their lasagna.
I had been selfish, what about my roommates, only one of whom has a real job. What about the future side dishes.
Baking a cheesy ricotta smothered lasagna isn’t about you. It’s about the stoner roommates – their wants, their needs, their hopes, their dreams. Selfishness demands, “what’s in it for me?,” while Dr. Love asks, “What can I bake for you?”

Saturday, July 27, 2013

7 Signs Your Life Isn't Perfect

I feel like this trend of telling friends how fantastic your life is through signage needs to be talked about. It's fine to announce to everyone that something awesome has happened to you. You're getting married or having a baby? Cool, congrats, no need to buy a chalkboard and write all over it.

I worry about people who need to try really hard to ensure other people know how happy they are. Usually there is something deeper going on, and luckily I have figured some of them out.

At the risk of looking like the woman who is going to wind up opening the world's first cat chorus when I reach the ovary withering age of 45, here you are:

Boby is street slang for "incurable herpes" it always happens right after
you get morried.

Derrick is so glad this miracle happened despite the fact that Sam hasn't let him sleep with her yet.

So what would you put on your "come see how great we are!" sign?

Wednesday, July 17, 2013

6 Google Searches That Will Make You Lose Faith in Humanity

Okay. So, we all do it.

We Google, we learn, we erase our internet history.

But Google has found a way to make this daunting seven second task even easier for us by trying to predict what we want to look for based on other frequently made searches...

...based on other frequently made searches....

Which is why, looking at the screenshots below, you will lose all faith in humanity. Enjoy...or cringe...either way be aware that this is happening on the internet. Frequently.

Have you tried vinegar and baking soda? According to Pinterest, that shit gets rid of everything.

Retrace your steps. Where was the last place you saw it?

Because my raccoon girlfriend always says she is on her period or has a headache and I have a nasty rash.
"My Raccoon Girlfriend" Premieres on Fox in Fall 2013
If your dog can't teach you how to hump, you need to kill him.
According to WebMD, if you like fat people you have cancer.

You're racist because you assumed Macklemore was black.

Saturday, July 28, 2012

10 Things To Know About Huge Boobs

When I turned 11 I visited my grandparents in Florida. I remember this distinctly because after cutting the birthday cake, my grandmother grabbed my left sprouting pre-boob, shook it, and said "these are getting big, kiddo, we've got a gift for you." Then she handed me a beautifully wrapped package. Ignoring the fact that my grams had just gotten to second base with me, I tore it open excitedly, hoping for a delicate collectable horse figurine or Lisa Frank stationary.

Instead, there was a white, virginal piece of lingerie sitting delicately atop some tissue paper. It had a little bow in the center and a giant pink tag that read: "Sassy Teens Training Bra!" I stared, wide eyed, mouth agape while my older brother started laughing hysterically and pranced around the kitchen with it, playing with his fake preteen cleavage. I was mortified, but couldn't recognize the foreshadowing that this incident provided to a life with big boobs.

After age eleven, it was as though the tit fairy would come into my bedroom each night and inject anabolic steroids into my girls while I was asleep. My friend [redacted] and I started a measuring chart contest so that we could keep track of our growing bust sizes. But the race was as unmatched as Michael Phelps vs. Danny DeVito in a pool, and the locker room stares only increased with age. Now that I'm an adult, I've developed a love hate relationship with them, but thought I would share some advice for preparedness to anyone planning on upping their cup size:

1. In the bathroom of bars, concerts, and comedy clubs other girls will believe that it's okay to touch your lady bags, usually from underneath, as if testing honeydews for freshness.

2. If you sit at high countered restaurants, you will feel an insatiable urge to lift the girls up and rest them on the counter to give your back a break. This is okay as long as it's in a 24 hour diner and it's past 1:33 am.

3. Be prepared if you decide to go the sexy costume route at Halloween. There will be strangers' hands down the front of your cleavage all night, at least one girl dressed up as Ke$ha will try to get you to sleep with her, and you will get three motorboat requests from Batman, a vampire, and Ron Burgundy.

4. Instead of saying "that's a pretty picture of you" on Facebook your friends will say things like "your boobs take up 3/4 of the picture."

5. Putting a napkin on your lap is a mere formality. Every bit of soup, crumb, custard, and powdered sugar will create a veritable dinner crime scene on your tit shelf.

6. Yes, you will play with them yourself, sometimes they can serve as two giant stress balls attached to your front side.

7. That incredible bottle of homemade BBQ sauce on your restaurant table that you don't want to buy for $15 at the gift shop? It can magically disappear by slipping it into the fault line of your jiggly mountains (no, I'm not proud of stealing condiments via boob hiding spots).

8. Finding the $5 you hid in your bra when out drinking on Friday night (along with a piece of paper that says "shirt guy" next to a number and a starburst) stuck to the underside of your boob on Sunday is not sometime to be ashamed of. Sometimes things get lost.

9. Things you will have to answer: Yes, sometimes they help you get what you want. No, crying still works better to get you out of a ticket. Yes, my back hurts. No, I don't want to imagine what they'll be like when I get pregnant. Yes, good posture is something I have to consciously think about every day. No, my nipples are normal sized.

10.  The homeless guy with the pink guitar in the samurai hat on public transit will greet you by either saying "There's the Boobs!" or "Hey Boobiful."

Boob ya later!

Tuesday, July 24, 2012

Is He Marriage Material? A Quiz

 There are plenty of places you can find dating advice on the internet, but where else can you find a quiz to see if he is marriage material!? Probably lots of places, so here's another one. 
Also, if you're googling to figure out if he's ready to marry you then most likely: 1. He's not. 2. You'll stay with him anyway so 3. Why are you really reading this? Do not hold me accountable if the below quiz doesn't accurately project your relationships durability. I'm not Cleo for fuck's sake.

1. When you ask him if you look nice in your new dress he:
A. Lovingly embraces you and whispers into your ear that you are gorgeous.
B. Turns around and farts for 12 seconds on your hip and then mentions that he thinks that a little leaked out.
C. Places your hand gently on his hardening bulge and says "Doesn't this say it all?"

2. For your anniversary he gets you:
A.One dozen roses for every year you've been together, plus an all expense paid trip to St. Lucia.
B. 4 bottles of Smirnoff and a plane ticket for that girl you experimented with in college to fly in and visit the two of you.
C. A card from the gas station that says "I love you mom." He's misspelled your name where "mom" was written.

3. When your mother comes to visit he:
A. Makes reservations at your favorite restaurant and books you to get facials with her for some girl time.
B. Consistently comments to her on how he hopes your "jugs grow up to be like hers."
C. Gets pissed off because he has to smoke pot in the garage and can't wear his "SukaDik" T-shirt all week.

4. His "Guys' Night" consists of:
A. Taking at-risk youth teens to a baseball game with frequent, loving texts to you throughout the evening.
B. Secret fight club with the guys from work, but instead of sexily beating each other up while Brad Pitt watches, they do air karate on blow up dolls while drinking Busch light.
C. Making amateur YouTube videos with his brothers where their asses are dressed up as talking people.

5. When you ask him to do the dishes he:
A. Jumps up immediately and cleans them, drys them, puts them away, then kisses you on the forehead.
B. Declares it "No Pants Day" and refuses to get out of bed for 24 hours.
C. Hides the dirty dishes under the sink and masturbates in the bathroom to photos on the wall of your family.

If you answered mostly As:
This guy is fantastic and perfect. Either you're lying, or he's gay, or he's cheating on you. Or he's gay and cheating on you. Most likely, this guy is a figment of your imagination.

If you answered mostly Bs:
Congratulations!  This guy is giving you all the signs that he's ready to live with you forever, you go girl. I write for Cosmopolitan and get paid to dish out prepackaged girlie encouragement!

If you answered mostly Cs:
You're dating my ex-boyfriend. Please tell him I want my Oasis cd back.

Wedding Bells!

Tuesday, July 17, 2012

Homosexually Transmitted? The Boy Scouts Questions Project

This kiddo has a loving home, thanks guys.
It takes a lot to piss me off. Usually, I'm a very level headed person with a disgustingly optimistic view on life and an unhealthy trust for strangers.

But the decision that The Boy Scouts made today disgusts me. If you haven't heard what's going on here's the story. Basically, after dismissing an incredible den mother for being gay The Boy Scouts received pressure to reevaluate their policies. I was hopeful, but today I was simply disappointed.

I'm also pretty pissed off. I'm not sure where teaching hate and discrimination falls into The Boy Scouts' handbook, but I think we should ask them.

Here's my idea:

1. Tweet a question @boyscouts about their decision. If we can get a bunch of people to get this trending, maybe it will help to show the absurdity of their decision. Here's one of mine:

2. Keep it funny, ironic, and definitely not hateful. Fighting ignorance and hate with more of it is pointless and completely has the opposite effect of what we're trying to accomplish.

3. Use the hashtag #boyscoutsquestions to set the trend.
4. Share this post around to spread the word. I'm pretty new to the online community so I'll need your help getting people to see this. It will only take a second.

5. If you'd like to help the Boy Scout leader who was removed: Sign the petition here.

Help eliminate hate!

Update: The incredible Crak Genius is getting involved: Suck It Boy Scouts of America

Monday, July 16, 2012

If Job Rejection Letters Were Honest

So you just applied for a job you were really excited about. You refreshed your "professional" email inbox about a thousand times waiting for the interview. Or maybe you got the interview and you just know the offer letter is going to arrive at any moment.

Then it comes.

The dreaded rejection letter plops smugly into your inbox with some generic language from some turd in HR who never wears quite enough deodorant. You read it and you wonder what they're really thinking. I'm about to tell you:

If they wrote: We thoroughly enjoyed reviewing your application, but unfortunately you did not have the qualifications we were looking for.
Then they mean: The intern was in charge of finding qualified applicants for this position. He spent the entire week tweeting dick pics at Paris Hilton and then picked an applicant off the top of the pile.

If they wrote: We do not feel you are the right match at this time.
Then they mean: We saw that racist joke you posted on facebook. We also saw the picture of you passed out at a party with lollipops stuck into your naked buttcrack and your review on yelp that called the employees at starbucks "dick waffles."

If they wrote: At the present time, there are other candidates whose qualifications more closely match the requirements for this position.
Then they mean: Sheila from packaging gave me a great blowie this morning. She used a lot of tongue. I doubt your blowjobs are going to match hers since she was able to take her teeth out.

If they wrote: We encourage you to explore other opportunities. Thank you for your interest in Acme daycare.
Then they mean: Why the fuck did you send us a picture of you bathing with your godson?

If they wrote: The position you applied for has been filled, but there is another opportunity with our company we would like to encourage you to apply for.
Then they mean: Bob Flemming is a real asshole to work for, but we need to get him an employee so he stops fucking talking to all of us.

If they wrote: We appreciate that you took the time to apply for this position, but we will not be offering you an interview.
Then they mean: "Acoustic guitar hero champion" and "Magic the Gathering national finalist" are not skills and should not be listed on your resume.

If they wrote: As you can imagine, we received a large number of applications...
Then they mean: We allow dogs in our office and have a game room filled with vintage video games. We're a disgustingly rich start-up that makes money off of a narcissistic fad website. We wear ironic mustaches and suspenders to work. If you haven't worked for, or are not close personal friends of someone who currently works for facebook, then fuck off.

If they wrote:Thank you for taking the time to meet with our interview team.
Then they mean: I saw you scratch your balls with the company pen before you handed it back to me. Also, we do not believe "Asians" is an appropriate response to "what is your weakness?".

Remember, don't get discouraged!
Just because you don't get the job doesn't mean you can't sign the hiring manager's email up for ridiculous amounts of spammy porn sites.