Random Crap That Bugs Me at the Moment...

 

Here are a few things that are bugging me at this particular moment in time.  Obviously, this is only a partial list.

1.  Christmas Lights.  Its February 1^st.  Christmas was 39 days ago.  If you are too fucking lazy to take them down until Spring (like Boy, 45), at least shut those bitches off.   Even if they are just white and twinkly, the holiday season is over! You may think you are safe because it doesn’t look like Santa and Rudolph blew red and green chunks all over your yard, but white twinkly lights are still Christmas lights, and it's time for them to go.  (Disclaimer:  I have had red and green recessed lights under the soffit of my house since November of 2011.  In other words, I'm a freaking hypocrite.)

 

My goal for Boy, 45...for 2013.

 

2.  Expensive cars in the driveway of a dilapidated house.  Would I love a Range Rover, BMW or Mercedes Benz?  Does a shark fart in the water?  But how about you take that car payment and replace the broken windows covered with duct tape?  Or maybe spend a few car payments on a paint job for the peeling, crackling shingles that look like they haven’t had any attention since Laura Ingalls moved out?  This completely bewilders me.

 

Imagine this house, with a brand new Range Rover parked right on the front lawn.  Nice!

3.  Asshole kids who take 10 minutes in a crosswalk when I’m late for work (again).  Show a little courtesy and move your sorry ass.  If a car is waiting while you cross, you could pick up the pace a bit.  While you’re at it, pull up your friggen pants.  I don’t want to look at your underwear or your asscrack.  If you wear that belt up around your waist where it belongs, you’ll be able to walk faster without having to worry about your pants falling down to your ankles.  Just sayin’.

 

Why?  Why the need for a belt?  Why even bother wearing shorts? Just WHY?

 

 

4.   Girl, 16.  When your mother tells you to do something, do it! A simple phone call (or at the very least, a text) before you left the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, and a simple phone call when you arrived in New Hampshire was obviously too much to ask!   Now, I’m forced to blog about you!  Call your mother!  Otherwise, I’ll be forced to post that adorable picture of you when you were a baby.  Naked. In the tub.  BAM!

 

Anything you find particularly annoying at the moment?  Do tell…

January + Northeast = Cold as F**k!

What I say:    Brrrrrrr…it’s so cold today!

What I Mean:

It’s cold. Really cold. So cold, in fact, that I counted 12 dashboard pictures on my newsfeed this morning. Funny thing is, its JANUARY. And we live in BOSTON. It’s supposed to be cold. It’s WINTER. If that kind of crap bugs you, move to FLORIDA! Then again, you’ll probably blow up my newsfeed with dashboard pictures of your thermometer reading 100 degrees. It seems there’s no escaping the dreaded dashboard picture! I got in my shit box car this morning (which is such a shit box that it doesn’t have a digital thermometer of which to take a picture), and the snow from the bottom of my shoes from the night before was still on the floor mat. Proof that it’s fucking cold, no? Oddly, the urge to take a picture with a witty tagline never crossed my mind. I guess I’m just not good at Fakebooking.

Talk of the “cold snap” is everywhere. It’s on the news, the radio, everyone is talking about it. People say things to each other like “stay warm,” “stay out of the cold,” “bundle up.” How about “shut the fuck up already about the damn cold. It’s fucking winter. It’s supposed to be cold!” Not to mention the fact that we live in New England, and although it’s 14 degrees, with a “feels like temperature”of -3 when the wind blows, next week temperatures are expected to be in the 50s. Get your bikinis ready, ladies with FUPAs!!!

In case anyone needs them, the Massachusetts Emergency Management Agency offered up some cold weather safety tips (this is not the complete list – I just picked a few).

·         Dress in several layers of loose-fitting, lightweight clothing, rather than a single layer of heavy clothing. Outer garments should be tightly woven and water repellent. Wear a hat, mittens and sturdy waterproof boots, protecting your extremities. Cover the mouth with a scarf to protect the lungs.

I think it takes me approximately 5.2 seconds to walk out to my car each morning. Regardless, I shuffle out to my car dressed like an eskimo complete with scarf, down jacket zipped up to my chin, and gloves. Boy, 45 starts my car for me every morning, so when I get into the shit box, it’s a toasty 80 degrees or so. Luckily, my commute to work is roughly 5 minutes (10 if I hit all the red lights, or get stuck behind Slow Sam). About 1.5 minutes into the ride, I’m sweating my ass off, ripping off the scarf and gloves and unzipping the jacket. I may even roll the window down to avoid SWASS. Of course, I have to get all bundled back up to walk into the building, which can take another 20 seconds or so, depending on where I am lucky enough to find a parking spot. So yeah, I hate the cold, but I can handle it for roughly 4 friggen minutes a day.

·        Excessive exposure can lead to frostbite, which is damaging to body tissue that is frozen. Frostbite causes a loss of feeling and a pale appearance in extremities, such as fingers, toes, ear lobes or the tip of the nose. If symptoms are detected, seek medical help immediately. Hypothermia can occur in extreme cases. The warning signs are uncontrollable shivering, memory loss, disorientation, incoherence, slurred speech, drowsiness and apparent exhaustion. If the person’s temperature drops below 95 degrees, seek immediate medical care.

If you are stupid enough to go hiking in zero degree weather, or spend the day outside doing whatever it is idiots do when the “feels like” temperature is -15, then in my opinion, you deserve frostbite. Here’s my advice. Stay inside. If you want to get some exercise, join a gym (assuming you aren’t a Fatty.) Wait a day or two, and when New England Mother Nature decides to fuck with all of us and bring back Spring in the middle of Winter with a 50 degree day, go for a jog or hike then. Don’t be a fucking idiot.

·        Have sufficient heating fuel, as well as emergency heating equipment in case of a power outage.

Here’s the thing. I heat my house with oil (unfortunately for me). That shit is expensive. Right now the cost per gallon is hovering around $3.60. I think my tank is about 300 gallons - it would cost me over $1000 to fill that bitch! So, I get the minimum of 100 gallons delivered and turn the thermostats down to 64 in the hopes that next month I’ll be able to swing a fill up! Girl, 13 pisses and moans about the fact that she’s cold, and she is told to put on a sweatshirt and grab a blanket. In April, when the temps reach 64 degrees, she will be whipping out the booty shorts and hoochie tanks! Not too cold for ya then, is it sweetie?

·        Food provides the body with energy for producing its own heat.

Permission to eat!!! A Fat Chick doesn’t have to be told twice! Save me a seat at the buffet...I’m trying to prevent hypothermia and frostbite, for crying out loud!


Oh, and this bugs the shit out of me too, for future reference:

So, what bugs you about the cold?

Random Crap That Bugs Me: Bad Drivers!

 

If you haven't heard,  Girl, 16 got her Learner's Permit a few weeks ago.  Fan-freakin'-tastic! We spent a few days driving around industrial parks, learning the basics, and then it was finally time to venture out onto the road.  Luckily, she is a very fast learner, and she is doing well, but I have a heightened awareness of asshole drivers from my view out the passenger seat window.  A few of the types I find particularly annoying are listed below, for your reading pleasure!

 

 

The Secret Service Cellular User:   Despite the laws against it, the constant newspaper articles, and the TV news coverage of the many accidents that happen while people are texting, it seems to continue unabated.  I especially like the shitballs who hold the phone down low out of sight - as if they are pulling the wool over anyone's eyes.  Hey, Shitball, do you always look down at your lap instead of at the road while you are driving?  You are either texting or playing with yourself, neither of which is acceptable behavior on the roadway, you fucking moron!  It's even harder to hide your secret mission when you are driving at night. Do you honestly believe that no one notices that strange glow emanating from your lap?   I'm sure all the other drivers just assume you spend a lot of time fishing near the cooling water outlet of the nuclear power plant.  Wake up you douche, you’re not fooling anyone with that shit.

 

 

The Creepy Crawler:  This is the driver who slows down to a near standstill as they approach the turn they are about to take, especially when they neglect to use their directional.  (Yes we say directional, not turn signal here in Boston).  Now you have to guess what they are about to do.  Are they stopping to let someone cross?  Avoiding a road pizza?  Turning  Left?  Turning Right?  Can I pass them or will I get T-boned if I do?   All of this could be solved by a simple little act of pushing the handy little directional lever up or down.  Think you can handle that next time, Asswipe?  'Preciate it!

 

 

 

 

Slow Sally/Sam:  These are the dicks doing 50 MPH in the left hand lane on the highway.  You’re driving in a line of bumper to bumper traffic about 10 cars long, and at the front of the line is a 1982 Doge Aries K (loaded with bumper stickers - and you know my feelings on those). You're expecting to at least be behind a funeral procession - but no, it's the lady from "Where's the Beef?" I usually find myself in this situation when I'm late for work, and Slow Sam makes me even later!  Speaking of Funeral Processions - is there anything more ignorant than cutting into or cutting off a funeral procession?  It happens more than you think, and anyone who does this purposely should be shot, hung, then pissed on.  Have a little respect, shitstick. 

Massholes:    Here in Massachusetts, we have our own breed of driver that we affectionately refer to as "Massholes."   A Masshole is a driver who gets their skivvies in a twist when another car passes them on the highway.  Other Masshole tendencies include drivers who are traveling in the lane you are trying to merge into, and instead of letting you in, they purposely speed up so you can’t get in. If you are a driver trying to pull out of a side street into the flow of traffic, a Masshole would speed up to a red light a mere 50 feet away, rather than show you any courtesy.  Hurry up and wait, Masshole.  When this happens to me, I give them the fuzzy eyeball and silently wish for a bird to shit all over their windshield.  Numerous times.  After it eats some blueberries. A lot of blueberries.  Another "Hurry Up and Wait"  example applies to several Massholes traveling in a line (sometimes, they may even find themselves behind Slow Sally/Sam).  Imagine you are trying to take a right hand turn into bumper to bumper ass traffic.  Not one Masshole will let you in, despite the fact that you have inched your way so far out into traffic, they have to actually go around you so they won't hit you.  This really bugs me, but what bugs me even more is when Massholes are coming from both directions, and you are turning left.  You're pretty much fucked in this situation.  Your only option at this point is to close your eyes and gun it.  Be the Masshole.  If you can't beat 'em - join 'em!  I'm pretty sure that's why the population of Massholes keeps increasing! 

 

 

 

 

 

Masshole Mergers:  Merging pretty much sucks, but there are times when you just have to do it.  I don't understand why some people find this so fucking difficult.  It’s one and one!  Car in lane, merging vehicle, car in lane, merging vehicle, and the pattern continues.  It’s not rocket science!  Tip:  If you are the Masshole who doesn’t want to merge correctly because you are late for your pedicure and that extra 10 feet that the merging car will take up is unacceptable to you, then the trick is to stare straight ahead at all costs.  Do NOT make eye contact!  If you do you’re fucked.  Conversely, if you are the one who is getting screwed out of your rightful spot in the merge, then bore holes in the side of the offenders head with your eyes while they are following proper Masshole procedure and avoiding any eye contact whatsoever.           

 

 

 

Lousy Lane Changers:  This  happens when someone travelling in the left hand lane decides they are getting off at an exit… as they are passing said exit. The driver cuts cuts across all lanes of traffic and takes the exit ramp with not a foot to spare, usually no directional, and with total disregard of who may be travelling behind or around them.  I guess the idea of just getting off at the next exit, banging a U turn and jumping back on the highway is just too much work. It's easier for the Lousy Lane Changer to risk the lives of other drivers so he is not inconvenienced.  Not sure, but I'm thinking going to jail for vehicular homicide might suck just a little bit more than being 5 minutes late for your back wax. 

 

Needless to say, I'm not finding this "teaching my kid how to drive" shit enjoyable.  No reflection on Girl, 16, just all the other buttnuggets with whom we are sharing the road! 

 

 

These are just some examples of drivers who really bug the crap out of me.  Do certain drivers bug you?  And just for the record: 

 

  

Happy New Year, Fatty!

What I say: I Love reading all of the Happy New Year Facebook Status Updates, and looking at everyone’s pictures from their New Year’s Eve parties!

What I mean: Happy New Year to all of you, too! Now shut the hell up already about resolutions and long lines at your gym!

Read this wonderful gem posted by one of my Fakebook "Friends": 

“I would like to officially greet all of the New Year's Resolutioner's at my gym: Hello and you're fat. You simply don't understand that you must completely identify your problem before you seek to solve it. Instead, for the next 30 days you will appear at my church and lip sync the prayers with some misperception that attendance counts for 90 percent of the class. The next time I see you, you will...be talking on your cell phone as you lean on the Stairmaster as if you were doing dips for 30 minutes. You'll be sipping Gatorade without understanding by the end of your 'workout' you will have consumed more calories than you burned. You will spend your evenings baking cookies, talking to your friends about your 'workout' and shopping on Pinsterest instead of researching low calorie meals, stretching instead of sitting on the couch and making your lunch for tomorrow. All the while failing to understand that you need to hate your fat to divorce your fat. And, worst of all, you will never even ask a question knowing that something you are doing is wrong. I can however at least thank you...for being part of the reason I only pay $10.00 per month for my membership. Goodbye and good luck.” be talking on your cell phone as you lean on the Stairmaster as if you were doing dips for 30 minutes. You'll be sipping Gatorade without understanding by the end of your 'workout' you will have consumed more calories than you burned. You will spend your evenings baking cookies, talking to your friends about your 'workout' and shopping on Pinsterest instead of researching low calorie meals, stretching instead of sitting on the couch and making your lunch for tomorrow. All the while failing to understand that you need to hate your fat to divorce your fat. And,worst of all, you will never even ask a question knowing that something you are doing is wrong. I can however at least thank you...for being part of the reason I only pay $10.00 per month for my membership. Goodbye and good luck.” be talking on your cell phone as you lean on the Stairmaster as if you were doing dips for 30 minutes. You'll be sipping Gatorade without understanding by the end of your 'workout' you will have consumed more calories than you burned. You will spend your evenings baking cookies, talking to your friends about your 'workout' and shopping on Pinsterest instead of researching low calorie meals, stretching instead of sitting on the couch and making your lunch for tomorrow. All the while failing to understand that you need to hate your fat to divorce your fat. And,worst of all, you will never even ask a question knowing that something you are doing is wrong. I can however at least thank you...for being part of the reason I only pay $10.00 per month for my membership. Goodbye and good luck.” be talking on your cell phone as you lean on the Stairmaster as if you were doing dips for 30 minutes. You'll be sipping Gatorade without understanding by the end of your 'workout' you will have consumed more calories than you burned. You will spend your evenings baking cookies, talking to your friends about your 'workout' and shopping on Pinsterest instead of researching low calorie meals, stretching instead of sitting on the couch and making your lunch for tomorrow. All the while failing to understand that you need to hate your fat to divorce your fat. And,worst of all, you will never even ask a question knowing that something you are doing is wrong. I can however at least thank you...for being part of the reason I only pay $10.00 per month for my membership. Goodbye and good luck.”

There are many reasons why this post bugs me. I should start off by saying that I am fat. Not "I can’t get out of bed without a crane or leave the house because I can't fit through the door" fat, but I could stand to lose 50 or 60 pounds. I did not join a gym for my 2013 New Year’s Resolution, and probably never will (especially after reading this). Why, you ask? Being overweight, I’m already pretty self-conscious. I almost had a panic attack walking into Lululemon last weekend, because (a) I was clearly the only person in the store who has eaten a cheeseburger in the last six months, and (b) $98 yoga pants - even if they did make them in my size (which, for the record, they do not), I wouldn't spend that kind of money on stretch pants! 

I feel the need to respond to each sentence individually, because this person clearly thinks he knows Fat Phyllis on the exercise bike next to him, or Chubby Charlie on the Stairmaster he is waiting for, but really, he doesn’t know Jack Shit! Here goes:

“I would like to officially greet all of the New Year's Resolutioner's at my gym: Hello and you're fat.”

Didn’t your mother ever tell you, “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all?”  Mine did (and I think I'm going to be ignoring her advice for this post).  My third grade teacher also taught me that an apostrophe before the letter “s” doesn’t pluralize a word.  So, I guess even though I’m fat, I can proofread the shit out of your post.  But, I digress.   I’m sure every fat person at your gym knows they are fat. They don’t need you to tell them. That’s why they are there. That was just plain rude and childish. 

“You simply don't understand that you must completely identify your problem before you seek to solve it.”

How the fuck do you know that? Most people with weight problems know why they are overweight. I certainly do. Food is fucking delicious! Seriously, the "Resolutioners," as you called them, have made the decision to get healthier and go to the gym. They most likely know that if they control their diet and exercise, they will lose weight. They are fat (as you so graciously pointed out), not fucking stupid.

"Instead, for the next 30 days you will appear at my church and lip sync the prayers with some misperception that attendance counts for 90 percent of the class."

Here's the thing. Although it may appear to you that Fat Freddie is satisfied with just showing up to the gym, and not necessarily giving 100% to his workout, he should probably take it slow at first - Dude's been eating chips and channel surfing on the couch for the last 11 months, he'll get the hang of it! The fact that he made the decision to go to the gym (even though he's.....gasp....FAT) and make a lifestyle change is a step in the right direction. But for some reason, you have more of a right to go to the gym (because you are fit) than he does? Don't get me wrong...I'm sure it is a pain in the ass to have to share your gym with “Resolutioners” for a month...but you get 11 months of peace and quiet at your gym...can the fat people get JUST ONE? (I'm kidding, of course. I'm sure there are a few Chubbies who actually stick with it and reach their goal! I'm guessing they are the people who are in-shape at the gym and aren't bitching about petty little things like lines at the Treadmills for the month of January.)

“The next time I see you, you will...be talking on your cell phone as you lean on the Stairmaster as if you were doing dips for 30 minutes.”

This would piss me off too (if wasn’t fat, of course, since a gym is apparently no place for a Heifer).  However, I’d be willing to bet that “fatties,” as well as those who “pick things up and put them down” are guilty of this inconsiderate act.  
 

“You'll be sipping Gatorade without understanding by the end of your 'workout' you will have consumed more calories than you burned.”

 
Again with the “fat people are imbociles” attitude.  Thank GOD fit people like you are here to point out that Gatorade is not without calories!  Oh how I wish I was thin so I could spread my wealth of fitness knowledge to stupid fat people all over the world!  
 

“You will spend your evenings baking cookies, talking to your friends about your 'workout' and shopping on Pinsterest instead of researching low calorie meals, stretching instead of sitting on the couch and making your lunch for tomorrow.”

First, it’s called Pinterest.  And you don’t shop on it.  Actually, it’s a great place to look up low calorie recipes and meal plans.  There are links to blogs and websites that offer food shopping tips and lists.  You really should check it out.  You might even be able to learn some new stretches or exercises.  No need to thank me.  Consider it a Fat Chick Tip, since you so generously shared your knowledge of Gatorade and fitness.  I’m being childish again.  Wow – it really is kind of fun.  Now I see why you do it so often!

Second, baking cookies?  We cows just eat the batter right from the bowl.  No need to bake that shit! Again, consider this more Fat Chick Words of Wisdom.  Just keeping it real. 

“All the while failing to understand that you need to hate your fat to divorce your fat.”

Ahhh…the battered wife strategy!  Love it!  No one likes being fat…it just kind of happens.  I hate my fat.  I want to divorce it, but I’m not ready.  I’ve lost weight in the past when I thought I was ready.  But in the end, I put it back on, and then some!  I’m not filing for divorce and then reconciling anymore with food.  That doesn’t mean I don’t hate being fat – I just fucking love food!

“And, worst of all, you will never even ask a question knowing that something you are doing is wrong.” 

I’m confused here.  You make Two Ton Tommy feel like a piece of shit for going to YOUR gym on YOUR time, and then you expect him to ask you how to use the equipment properly?  Or maybe he should ask a Trainer.  That would go over like a fart in church…it may mean you would have to wait an additional 3 minutes until Tommy finds the Trainer to ask for a how-to. 

“I can however at least thank you...for being part of the reason I only pay $10.00 per month for my membership. Goodbye and good luck.”

I’m pretty sure $10 deals for memberships are offered throughout the year.  I’m also pretty sure there is no legal jargon at the end of the ads stating something along the lines of, “This offer is for Thin People only.  If you are fat, have ever been fat, have a kid who is fat, know someone who is fat, or become fat, you are unwelcome at this gym.” 

I have to tell you that after reading your post, my first thought was, “What a pretentious asshole!”  I can only assume that you are so unhappy in your life that you have to put other people down to pump yourself up (pun intended).  See what I did there?  Sucks when someone presumes that they know you and what you are all about, huh? 

I'm kind of annoyed with myself for stooping to your level, but this has been somewhat therapeutic for me! I think I may actually be motivated to finally lose weight, join a gym and make you wait for me while I finish my workout! What gym do you belong to, anyway? I'll buy you a Gatorade!

List: Five Reasons Why I Have a Love/Hate Relationship with Fall

1.  Love:  The fact that Girl 15 and Girl 13 are back in school, and I no longer have to worry about filling each of their days with back to back activities to keep them from hanging around the house all day and using every single one of the glasses, dishes, bowls, forks and spoons, so that when I finally come home from work, I don’t spend three hours cleaning up after them.  I also love the fact that they can’t call me 79 times a day asking me stupid shit like, “Do we have any brownie mix?” or, “Where are the Q-Tips?” 

 

Hate:  The fact that Girl, 15 and Girl, 13 are back in school, and now we all have to get back into the friggen routine!  Getting them off to school is easy enough…it’s when they come home that bites.  The first time I remind them to do their homework happens when I drop them off at home from school (using my lunch hour – why I’m a heffer, I have no idea).  Once I get home from work myself, I will repeat “Do your homework” approximately 382,641 times.  I’m pretty sure they are both telling me to fuck off in their heads each time I say it.  Then, at  about 9:45, one of them realizes she has a project due the next day requiring poster board, and I’m searching the aisles of 24 hour drugstores for the shit.  Poster Board should really have its own love/hate category for me.  One of these days I’ll get smart and stock up on it. 

2.  Love:  Fall clothes.  Cozy sweaters and boots.  

 

Hate:  The way I look in cozy sweaters and boots.  Seriously.

 

This is how I wish I looked.



This is what I see when I look in the mirror.  (From Google Images - this is not me)

 

Yeah.  So that sucks.  My family tells me that I’m not THAT heavy, but that’s what I see when I look in the mirror, so that’s what I’m going with. 

 3.  Love:  Watching the girls play hockey and soccer!  Girl, 15 plays on two hockey teams, and also plays soccer for her school.  Girl, 13 plays on one hockey team. 

Hate:  Hockey practice, soccer practice, weekday soccer games (because I miss most of them since I have to work)!  There isn’t enough time in a day to squeeze it all in.  There are days I wish I was June Fucking Cleaver, staying home all day vacuuming, preparing dinner, and waiting at the door in my dress and pearls to welcome my family home (notice that I didn’t even mention the “L” word).  I’m pretty sure June Cleaver would have a heart attack if she ever smelled either of my kids’ hockey bags. That shit is nasty. 

 4.  Love:  Are you ready for some Football?  Love, love, love, watching the Patriots.  Sundays are awesome – fire in the fireplace, chili in the crock pot, Pats on TV… nothing better!

Hate:  Watching football with Boy, 45.  He yells at the refs, yells at the coach, yells at the players, swears at everyone on T.V., and GOD FORBID you try to ask a question or have some sort of conversation during the game.  I’m not talking about a serious conversation here, just something as simple as “Anyone want more chili?” will put a look of extreme pain on Boy 45’s face, and he will usually respond with an asshole-ish comment like “Um….the game is on….”  Yeah.  So me and the girls usually end up watching the rest of the game in another room.  Another shitty part about watching football with Boy, 45, is the fact that our dog’s name is Brady (he came with the name – we didn’t choose it, for the record).  The quarterback for the Patriots is Tom Brady.  So every time Boy, 45 yells something along the lines of “WHAT THE FUCK, BRADY?” (which he does at least 20 times during the game) my poor dog gets up, runs into the kitchen and hides in his bed for a few minutes until he thinks it’s safe to go back in!  Even the dog hates watching football with Boy, 45!

5.  Love:  The weather.  Love the temperature, and the foliage, and even the smell of the air!  While it’s no secret that I absolutely LOVE the beach, I have to say that Fall is definitely my most favorite season. 

 

Hate:  The fact that Winter is fast approaching.  Snow.  Slush.  Sleet.  Freezing Rain.  Christmas Shopping. Winter fucking sucks.  I can’t really enjoy the things I love about Fall because I know that Winter is out there, lurking in the shadows, waiting to pounce as soon as I start to really enjoy Fall.  Fuck you, Winter.  Fuck you.

 

What do you love/hate about Fall?

Random Crap That Bugs Me: Vanity Plates

So I've already told you that bumper stickers bug the crap out of me.  But lately, I've noticed a ton of vanity plates, and I'm pretty sure they bug me just as much, if not more, than bumper stickers. The name alone ("Vanity Plates") suggests that the person with such a plate is full of himself!  Here's proof, straight from Merriam-Webster (and that bitch don't lie):  van-i-ty: inflated pride in oneself or one's appearance.  Here is my list of the types of vanity plates that bug me the most:   


1. The Name Game


MELNIE.    OK, so your name is Melanie.  Why do you feel the need to put it on the license plate of your car?  Not for nothing, but you spelled it wrong.  What's that?  "M-E-L-A-N-I-E" was already taken?  So you'd rather have an incorrectly spelled version of your name be what people see as you come bombing down the street in your Chevy Corsica?  I could see if maybe you were driving a Corvette, but seriously, a Corsica?  What if Randy the Rapist is out on the town looking for his next target?  You drive by all "Melnie-like" and BINGO!  Now all Randy has to do is follow you to your destination, knowing you are a female (assuming Randy the Rapist is straight), and knowing you are alone before he makes you his next victim! 


Even better is the douche who does this: MYSTANG.  Yes.  It is your Mustang.  Except for the guy in the F-150 beside you who thought maybe it was your mother's car, everyone can now breathe a sigh of relief knowing that you are driving YOUR OWN MUSTANG.  Thank you for clearing up the confusion.  FYI:  The galloping horse and the word MUSTANG plastered across the hood, the trunk, and both sides of the car kinda already tipped me off. 


Other examples of the "Name Game" are:  JOESCAR, MEGSLEX, ALSTRUK, MOMSVN...I could literally go on all day.   


2.  Downtime


This is the type of plate where the owner feels the need to tell you, on their car, what they like to do in their spare time.  It could be their hobby:  ILVGOLF Good for you. I love walking my dog, going to the beach, and reading, but I'm not all up in your grill (no pun intended) telling  you about it!  Drive your damn car and go play some golf already!


HCKYMOM  So your kid plays hockey.  Thank GOD it says so on your license plate, because if it didn't, and I somehow missed the silver goalie outline decal on your bumper, the name "BILLY #4 Ice Devils" sticker on your back window, or the "Be Kind to Animals - Hug a Hockey Player" bumper sticker, I still would have been able to ascertain that your kid plays hockey.  [Disclaimer:  while I do not have a vanity plate, I am guilty of advertising my kids' sports on the back window of my car.  But hey, at least I can laugh at myself!]


Other examples of "Downtime" are:  RELAXXN (please don't relax while you are driving behind me, I'm not in the mood to have your vanity plate imprinted on the ass end of my car), FSHRMN, TNSLVR ....etc.  Basically,  I don't know you, I don't want to know you, and I don't give two shits how you spend your free time. 


3.  The Comedian

I saw this license plate on a Hummer: IMHUMMN Let me guess...  DCHEBAG was taken? 


GRRRR8 No offense, but there is nothing "great" about your 1998 Ford Festiva.  I'm surprised they even made you register that roller skate!


IFARTED  Really?  Are you twelve?


These drive me nuts! 


4.  Dirty Little Secrets


IPMS247 Hopefully you are married or have a boyfriend/girlfriend, otherwise, you just ruined any shot in hell at getting yourself a man (or woman, if that's your preference)!


ISWALOW I'm sure your parents are proud.  That explains the trail of souped-up pick up trucks following you. 


IMTOPLS See  ISWALOW above.


ILUVAG  I'm speechless.


I should say that I do find some vanity plates acceptable...maybe on a company car, advertising the company.  If you are a car enthusiast and you enter your car into car shows, then a vanity plate makes perfect sense.  Other than that, I just don't get it.  If you have a vanity plate, please do not be offended, learn to laugh at yourself - you mind as well join everyone else laughing at you!


Have you seen any funny vanity plates?  Share them by adding your comment below!

Random Crap That Bugs Me: An Open Letter to Kourtney Kardashian

Dear Kourtney:

First of all, congratulations on the birth of your daughter, Penelope!  I'm sure she is a beautiful baby and I wish you all the luck in the world!  I've read a few magazine articles this weekend, and it seems as though you could really use some advice.  I'm sure the Kardashian Klan chimes in with their $.02, but I'm going to offer you my views on your situation from a totally different perspective.  I'm clearly not a celebrity, I live on the East Coast, I'm what you would consider pretty much broke, and I live in a house that is probably smaller than your master bath.  We are about as opposite as opposite can be in many regards.  What we have in common, however, is the fact that we are both mothers.  It's for that reason, and the fact that you have your own reality television show, that I feel like I know you well enough to know what you are going through.  I hope you don't mind.

What I find most troubling about your situation is that you are having panic attacks at 3 a.m., worrying about the fact that it is taking you longer this time around to lose the baby weight, and that you really want to be back in a bikini.   You gave birth 21 days ago.  Three weeks.  Less than one month.  It took you 9 months to gain the baby weight - three weeks is not a very long time at all to snap back to your pre-baby weight.  Hell, my "baby" is turning 13 next month, and I'm still a heffer!  Truth be told, I'm actually heavier now than I was when she was born, but I'm as happy as a pig in shit!  Ok, maybe I'm not helping.  My point is, odds are you will fit into a bikini again. Give yourself some time for crying out loud!  A bikini is small potatoes, kiddo.  You have many more important things about which to fret!  (I mean no disrespect, but if I just named my kid Penelope, I'd probably lose some sleep too.  Just sayin'. Major props for not going with a "K" name though.)  I read that you feel "unsexy."  You just popped a watermelon out of your vagina.  It really doesn't get more "unsexy" than that.

Also mentioned in the article is the fact that Scott has been jetting off to party in Miami until 4 a.m. with models and his posse, while you are holed up in your mansion, wallowing in self pity (all things considered, a mansion is not a bad place in which to be holed up).  I, too, suffered from post-partum depression.  That shit is not fun.  Get yourself some meds so you are thinking straight enough to make the decisions you need to make.  You will feel better, and your kids will thank you someday.  With a clear mind, you will realize that you and your kids deserve much better than Pretty Boy Scott.  He is obviously self-centered and I couldn't see him taking a bullet for you or the kids.  The thought that he may get blood on his loafers is probably too much for him to bear.  He's an assfuck, and he needs to go.  All truth. 

This is my cigar-smoking ensemble.  Not my baby feeding outfit. Duh.

According to what I read, you have to get up and do the 3 a.m. feedings by yourself, and you have to keep Mason occupied all day.  It's fucking tiring - I know that from my own experience in having two kids.  Going from 0 kids to 1 kid is hard.  Going  from 1 kid to 2 is way harder.  You need help...Do you really not have a live-in nanny?  Your family helps you - which is great!  You are never alone, regardless of how alone you feel...your family always has your back.  How long are you going to wait until Assfuck steps up to the plate?  He should be bonding with his baby girl.  He should be spending quality time with Mason, who's world has been turned upside fucking down by Penelope's arrival.  You've given him how many second chances?  You guys make beautiful babies together, I'll give you that, but honestly, what else does he contribute?  He acts like a douchebag on the show and out in public, you don't need his money (actually I think he probably needs yours more), he only cares about himself, and you guys aren't married and you don't even sleep in the same bed!!!  The fuck?  You have two children togther and he STILL hasn't put a ring on it.  C'mon, Kourt!  You're smarter than that!

Basically, what I'm telling you is that you have yourself a no-brainer here.  If I was in your situation, the major reason I might try to work shit out would be money.  We don't have enough married, so I know it would be tougher if we were divorced.  You are lucky in that regard.  Money is not an issue.  Your kids deserve a father, but it seems to me he would actually see them more if you were officially apart, and he had set days and times on which to visit with them!

The article mentioned that you didn't take a maternity leave and that you have been working on the new DASH LA store.  Kim's off in Miami with Kanye.  Khloe is "reconnecting" with Lamar in Vegas.  YOU HAD A FRIGGEN BABY! Surely squeezing a basketball out of a pea-sized hole trumps going on tour with the boyfriend or chilling out with the husband!!!  Where are those supportive sisters of yours?  It's a FAMILY BUSINESS!  Let someone else in the FAMILY take over while you recuperate for a friggen month!  You must have an assistant, hell you must have a whole staff of assistants!  There is NO ONE else who can deal with the new store for a few weeks?  For fuck's sake, I have 2 weeks vacation - if you need a hand, let me know - I'd be glad to help! 

Thought this may be a good way to break the ice with Assfuck!

Sincerely,

Cheryl
(a/k/a The "ME" In Crap that Bugs Me!)