Mean Girls, Bullies, and Bitches That Hit You In The Face: A Tutorial On How To Deal With Mean Girls

Haters will always hate. Players will always play. And me? Well I can always be counted on to get the last word--or at least profit from other people’s mean-spirited shenanigans in a totally self-serving, Jon-Stewart-Show kind of way.

Facebook and Break-ups: It Is What It Is.

Break-ups suck for all parties involved. It really doesn’t matter whether you are the the dumpee or the dumper. You can be the cheater, the liar, or the naïve one. You can participate in the “mutual break-up” which we all know is a sham. The heartbreaker or the heartbroken. When dealing with break-ups, God is great, beer is good, and people are batshit crazy.

When Parents Facebook Chat

Let me premise this by saying my mother isn’t illiterate. Nor is she is technologically challenged. In fact, she’s a pretty smart lady. When I was younger, she could be counted on to solve our computer calamities, fumble around with our entertainment system until it blared backstreet boys, and was the only person who knew how to change the batteries in my Furby.

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

People Who Play Facebook Games

Dear People Who Participate in Facebook Games,
Although I deeply appreciate the sentiment behind the generous invites to join your gangs, to dine at your Virtual Cafes, and to take part in your alternative realms by accepting your gifts of dewdrops vials, pastries, bizarre weaponry, & fencing for my nonexistent cows, I regret to inform you that I do not own a virtual farm or operate a virtual cafe.
I do not wish to join you in frontier land. I do not know what to do with pumpkin seeds or your lost puppy, penguin, or woodland creature. I do not have any farming equipment at my disposal and I prefer actual food to your virtual three layer cake. I don’t have the time nor the desire to tend to your virtual pet or take part in the battle between humans and ravenous vampires. I cannot tend to your watermelon garden in your absence. 
Even more irksome than your incessant useless gifts are your constant requests for things I do not have.
Well, I suppose ice wouldn’t be that much trouble to get my hands on…
You’re doing what? You’re building a garage? Let me see if I have any spare wooden boards laying around….
Don’t be ridiculous. I hate bees. FUCK bees.
You’re asking me to help you commit murder without even offering compensation? No, eff no, I’m not IN at all.
Please advise,
M.

Monday, April 4, 2011

Why I Won't Be Moving To Alabama

Dear Alabama,


Warning: this post addresses the 3 no-no’s of polite conversation: religion, politics, and unpleasant odors.


I had the pleasure of spending 7 oh-so-glorious hours in Alabama almost a year ago to this date as my sorority sisters and I made our way to Florida. Obviously, I am not an expert on Alabama and do not claim to be. I am also bias due to the fact that during the short time I spent in Alabama I witnessed an armed robbery, took a wrong turn into a trailer park that had a ‘Children at Play’ sign crossed out in what appeared to be blood, and was on the most eerie, “The Last Exorcism”-like road for a good portion of the trip. Whatever the case may be, the following reasons are why I wouldn't consider relocating to Alabama anytime soon:


1. The War Is Over.

There’s nothing that says, “Welcome to Alabama” like an 800-foot Confederate flag looming over the interstate. Although I’m not really sure how large this banner actually was, I can say without a doubt that it was the biggest flag I have ever seen in person. There it was, towering over the highway, visible for literally miles. I partially ponder whether or not you purposely place this giant flag along a highway to deter outsiders from entering the South. The Civil War may indeed be ingrained into your rich history, Alabama, but come on. You lost, dude. Even worse, your team was kicked out of the league for foul play. Cut your loses and get over it.


2. God Billboards.

“God Is Watching.” “Abortion is Murder”. “Save Your Soul Before It is Too Late”. And my personal favorite: “Go to Church or The Devil Gon’ Get You” accompanied by a giant image of a red cackling devil plucking up little men that are fleeing from him in fear (I looked everywhere for the updated picture of this billboard, but could only find the old one. Can anyone help?). Whatever political, religious, or other views you hold, I’m not sure I care. The fact of the matter is, the only thing I want to read on a billboard is where I can exit for Chick-Fil-A.

Perhaps I am a jerk for only wanting to see where i can get off to snack on fried fish, but why do people feel the need to advertise this nonsense all over the highway? I literally almost crashed my friend’s Mercedes (Big Pimpin’) laughing at your devil billboard. Are you aiming to kill off the sinners by ushering them into oncoming traffic? That was a joke. Kind of. (I could honestly write an entire blog post about how much political and religious billboards piss me off.). And no, it has nothing to do with whether or not I agree or disagree with the message-- All politically slanted and outlandish messages on billboards irk me the same.


3. Gas Stations and Churches.

As far as I could tell during my 7-hour trek through the Alabama countryside, all that you appear to have in your state is gas stations and churches. Because this was a highly scientific anthropological study, I can only conclude that you like oil and God. I am not a fan of oil, really. The oil spill killed some of my favorite creatures. God is okay, but what would I do when it isn’t Sunday? Because this was a 28-hour drive, I took the liberty of counting the churches on the way from Birmingham, Alabama to the Florida border. I had to go look at my Facebook to retrieve this number, but in case anyone is wondering, which I’m sure you’re not, there are 37 churches. I did not count the gas stations. Maybe next time.

4. You Stink.

Alabama, don't take this offensively, but you smell. I would have to do a little research to figure out exactly where the potent odor throughout Alabama emanates from, but I’m not sure I care about the origin, all I know is that you smell of soot and pooh and flooded basement.

5. Liquor Store Hours

No alcohol purchases on Sundays past 2 am. Yeah.

Anyways, like I said, I'm no expert so I'll keep an open mind. I'd love for someone to provide me with reasons why Alabama is the bomb diggity.

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