Holiday Gift Guide

While I was on my way to New York last week I decided I would like to get my Christmas shopping done.  But being the sweetheart that I am I’ve taken the liberty of doing YOUR Christmas shopping for YOU… in Sky Mall.

First up is the Wish Wrap.  For a measly $38.99, you too can write stupid shit on a piece of paper and stick it in your “Wish Pocket.”   The Wish Wrap “features a pocket that lets you carry around your fondest wishes wherever you go.”  SkyMall states that you can wear your Wish Wrap at home OR on the town… so if your wish is to look like an asshole then this is the gift for you!  Wish wraps: The Snuggie’s redheaded stepchild. 

Do you have that special man in your life that forgets to take care of himself in the shower and is too lazy to reach under his towel?  Don’t we all?!  Fear not, I’ve got the perfect gift for you, the Men’s Genuine Turkish Wrap.  This is the gift that keeps on giving!  And for only $34.99, you can’t beat that.

Here we have the Ear Spy for $99.99.  Disguised as an innocuous pen holder, the special jackass in your life can now spy on his co-workers from the comfort of his cubicle.  This fine piece of equipment has a 1 year replacement fee of $9.99 or a 2 year of $14.99 just in case it takes you longer than 2 years to figure out that you just dropped a Benjamin on a fucking DIXIECUP pen holder. 

This year a Cabbage Patch Kid just isn’t gonna cut it so I’ve upped the ante for you.  For a whopping $99.99, exclusively from The Ashton-Drake Galleries (they’re so legit) you can have a real fake baby.  And this fake baby is a collectable.  Do you know what that means?  That means one day you can have a whole collection of fake babies!!!  Weeeeeeeeeeee! 

Just take a look at this gorgeous, pink, mouth watering, finger-licking-good, hunk of… oh wait, that’s a ham?  Oh, right, right.  Spiral City Sliced Ham. $34.00.  Sky Mall.  Ham.  Yeah.

Wine Glass Holder Necklace Thingy - $24.99
When you’ve got one hand in your Wish Pocket and the other in your Turkish pocket, how are you gonna hold your booze? Boy do I have the solution for you!  This fancy schmancey wine holder necklace thingy is perfect for those who just need a drink hanging around their neck.

Welp, that about wraps up my holiday gift giving guide. You're welcome.

Hodge-Podge Reality Doo-Wop Compilation Blog Remix: Volume 2.0

-Is it just me or do you drive like a fucking banshee the minute hot French fries enter your car? I refuse to eat a cold fry and I refuse to nuke my delicious, golden friends. So inevitably, it becomes a race against the hot French fry (and I always win.)
-I don’t understand people’s obsession with kitty cats and machine guns. That’s just fucking weird, dude.
-I cannot STAND those idiots who ride their Schwinn’s on the street. There’s a fucking side walk right there, Homie!! And I’ve got hot French fries in my car!
-I’m traveling to NYC this week and I’m excited to get a little action. TSA= Touchin’, Squeezin’, AWwwwESOME! I’m going to hide little love letters in a couple inconspicuous places, that way they don’t feel so cheap about the early onset heavy petting.
“Dear TSA Agent Claudia, I love the way you warm your hands up before having your way with me.  Too bad these little pat downs are so one-sided.”
Or “Dear TSA Agent Rhonda, I love that you have no shame in your game!  Tracing my bra line and telling me to “spread ‘em” …in public …on the first date?  Balls!”
Or maybe, “Dear TSA Agent Louise, Your PDA means the world to me! Let’s hold hands.”
And lastly, “Dear TSA Agent Latex Gloves Guy, if you’re reading this one something has gone terribly wrong and I’d like you to direct all further questions to my attorneys. Rubins Kase Rubins Cambiano and Bryant @ 523-8200."
-What ever happened to Amy Winehouse? Someone should check on her.
-Do you realize that all our lives we grow up with superiors. Starting with Mom and Dad, then kindergarten teachers and hall monitors, principals and vice principals. (For whatever reason, I always viewed the janitors and lunch ladies as equals. What are they gonna do? Nothing, that’s what.) Moving across an array of high school teachers and coaches, police men, college professors and Abercrombie & Fitch managers. Finally, you grow up and get a real job and you have your bosses and managers, and assistant managers, all the while you been paying your cell phone bill; I’m pretty sure Verizon Wireless fucking owns my ass. The question is, when is it going to be my turn?
I guess I could try telling my parents to clean their room and to be home by midnight but they would just think it’s funny and laugh in my cute face. I could try going back to my high school and telling all my old teachers what they used to tell me, "Sit still and to stop talking so fuckin' much," but I can only think of one who would actually do it and that’s just because he’s a hippie and smokes a ton of pot. I wouldn’t dare try to tell a police man what to do again. Last time I did that I was in Mexico, told a Federale to “S my D” and landed myself in a Mexican jail cell for 72 hours. I lost 4 pounds and have been pen pals with my cell mate for going on 8 years now though, so I regret nothing. I would love to call Verizon and say “Can you hear me now? Good, go fuck yourself,” but I won’t, need ‘em too much.
Anyhoo, you get the point. When am I going to be “The Man?” I have got to find a way to boss people around and have them take me seriously. I’m working on it, when I figure it out, I’ll let you know. And hopefully quick, before my desire to be the boss betrays me and lands me back in a 3rd world prison.
-Don’t you have certain words that you think are fun to say? I love onomatopoeias. But more than I love onomatopoeias I love the word ‘onomatopoeia.’ And I just found a way to say it 3 times! Boom! (that’s an onomatopoeia – 4) I also enjoy saying ‘Boise’ and ‘persnickety.’
-I wish I had the authority to ambush makeover people. Go to a Dress Barn in Boise, choose a persnickety lady, throw a pillowcase over her head, toss her in the back of an unmarked car and redirect her to Nordstrom. We’d start with a bra fitting. I’ve had my counsel look into this and apparently this kind of behavior is “frowned upon” even if it is for the greater good of humanity.
-I’ve been thinking of adding a small disclaimer to the blog. This is it, and I’m not apologizing for anything I’ve said, I’m simply coming clean for good JuJu and karmic purposes.

*Disclaimer: Dear current and future employers, boyfriends, husbands, soccer moms and my unborn love children alike, please be advised that this blog is a bunch a bull shit and about 3% of it’s content is actually true. Unless you love it then, 97% of it is true.

Here’s a list of things I’ve already lied about:
I’m not really a Volunteer Fire Fighter: they pay me, but under the table for tax fraud purposes.
I don’t really think Jamie Lee Curtis’ haircut is stupid. In fact, I love it!
I ate a McRib and didn’t document, record OR report on it… in my defense, it was 2am and I was drunk.
I’m not really 5’2”… I’m 5’2 and-a-half and I still like it down here.


The Rise and Fall of the Ed Hardy Empire

It all started with the ever-popular Ed Hardy rhinestone tucker hat. I will be the first to admit that I purchased one of these ‘gems’ about 5 years ago, right after I tossed my Von Dutch that was rad for about 14 and-a-half minutes. Luckily, that was the extent of my Ed Hardy phase and I think I wore it once to the gym, and by gym I mean the Ab-Roller in my basement. But with the rise of the trucker hat came the uproar of the tattoo T-shirts which snowballed into the gleaming track suits and a fragrance line which pretty much everybody who’s anybody has, right?

Now, any smart person would have sold their stock in Affliction and invested in the monopoly that is Ed Hardy at this point in the game. I, on the other hand, just couldn’t swallow my pride enough to have my name and social security digits tied to the brand. However, these Ed Hardy “products” became a contagious disease; appealing to the masses in New Jersey, and Mexico, then spreading like the Chicken pox across the globe. From Vodka and hookah bongs, to bedding and cars (yes, cars) these mother fuckers will slap a “Love Kills Slowly” sticker on just about anything, overprice the shit out of it and call it a day’s work.

Ed Hardy and Ed Hardy factory inspector numbers1 through 1,000, I beg of you, put down the Bedazzler and close up shop. This is my plea to allow the fine citizens of Mexico, New Jersey, Scottsdale, and beyond to return to their less sparkly apparel. This is me asking you “pretty please,” allow the beautiful women wearing frosted lipstick with dark liner to retire their blinding pink track suits. Come on Ed, I’ll help you come up with an exit strategy. Maybe we can get you in for a job interview with BP. Just put “Overpricing Shit” and “Accidental Catastrophes” under your specialties, you’re a shoe in! But please, stop the madness. It’s become prevalent that your glittery, tattoo-esque accoutrement is making mediocre looking people ugly, it’s bankrupting hard working MMA fighters, and slowly but surely making the whole world compulsively *bling. I have a dream that one day, we will all be free of the Ed Hardy epidemic and we can return to our normal, graphic tee-free, Bedazzless lives.

Fucking Ed Hardy.
A tiny little nod to my dear friend Ali who bravely sold ed hardy at the Scottsdale Fashion Square Mall... we all make mistakes.  I forgive you.