Steve Jobs is a better teacher than me.

If I had any kind of access to vital learning tools, like internets or computers, I would use this Apple commercial when I teach 1984 to this year's group of seniors.



Because:

a. My students only respond to visuals, and only learn from pictures, and
b. We could discuss the irony of a mega-corporation assuring us "1984 won't be like '1984.'"

But on the bright side, at least my job affords me the necessary free time to indulge in profound existential despair.

Fear-mongering at its finest.

SMF and I moved into the new grown-up pad on Sunday, and I took Monday off to unpack. Of course, I also needed a full day to wait for Comcast to show up whenever the hell they felt like it.

I trusted Comcast guy immediately, as he showed up a) in a Cincinnati Reds hat; b) early. It's hard to say when, exactly, the second Comcast guy showed up at the door to assure me there was still stuff I could buy, but it was just enough time for me to refuse him without realizing the cable is busted (currently stuck on the CW, so I least I caught this week's Gossip Girl).

So, CG2 was all like, "O hai, it looks like you just moved in," and I was all like, "Hey, stop creeping and peeping, plz." And CG2 wanted to sell me some superfluous phone service. I said I didn't need that because it's 2009. CG2 said I did, in fact, need that, I just didn't know it -- because if none of the multiple cell phones in the house work, I could still call 911.

Because I've seen horror films before, I told him that I was familiar with how these things work; if the cell phones aren't working, then neither is the land line. CG2 told me all I had to do was just knock the phone over while running from the bogeyman, and it would automatically dial 911.

Toto: we're not in Baltimore anymore.

I found this argument pretty laughable until I came home to an empty house today, with little furniture to absorb the echoes, because SMF is in another state for work.

Well done, Comcast. This has probably sold some superfluous phone service for you. But I'm still not buying a land line from you because, based on your prior customer "service" record, I have to assume the phone would only dial one number, unless I knock it over while bleeding to death.

Won't Someone Please Think of the Billionaires?

Dear Beyonce, Part Two.

Ok. We probably all owe you one for the patented butt-shake maneuver in the "Crazy in Love" video. But imagine how much more disturbing this video would be if the 7 year-old were in your stupid Dereon costumes.



As is, she's just a total badass. And I like how her mom seems to be chopping onions or something around the 1:25 mark.

Dear Beyonce

To be clear: although I find this kind of thing funny because I am mostly indifferent to children, I very harshly disapprove of their objectification -- sometimes, because it's deeply unsettling; sometimes, because it's just fucking gross.

I know, I know: But Miley Cyrus is always gross. True. Gross, and trendy.

Not to be exclusionary of pre-teens, adolescent pole dancing classes were immediately supplemented by a pole dancing doll.


What. The. Hell. Women are dolls? Children are sexy? Toddler empowerment? I don't even know what message I'm being sold. The best possible excuse for this is an attempt to combat childhood obesity -- and NAAFA is not amused.

Abercrombie thought it was a good idea to sell size 6x thongs, and 13 year-olds could, for a time, mail their birthday party invitations on Playboy stationery, so I don't really know why I reacted to this picture by telling Facebook Friend X that I would be calling Child Protective Services as soon as I was done retching.

Sure, it's a baby. But, after seeing this and this, I really should have expected that stupid onesie.

You know what though, Beyonce? I really expected more from you.

Toddlers don't need a freakum dress, ok? And why is the dark-skinned kid in the background?

But thanks, Beyonce, for devoting half of your ad space to the Asian fetish -- which is, apparently, a new and newsworthy thing. Gross, and trendy.

I'm no pundit.

I would have probably just called Wilson a knuckle-dragging asshat and moved on, naively assuming no one could possibly be taking this guy seriously -- and that's why I don't have a TV show. But Keith Olbermann really laid the smack in a nearly-unparalleled way.



"Of course your comments were 'inappropriate' and 'regrettable.' You are a Republican trying to de-legitimize the elected president of the United States. That's all you do, and that's all you've got."

"Look, Congressman: all capital letters! For the benefit of the factually-challenged."

"If, whether through stupidity or a willful attempt to mislead the gullible, you decided to spend whatever credibility remained to you on a position in which you are utterly, inarguably, and in a manner obvious to newborns and the more sophisticated of farm animals -- WRONG -- you apologize for your lack of 'civility,' when are you going to apologize for your lack of being right?"

"I was almost too fearful of using that word, 'impregnably,' because of the prospect that Governor Palin would go after me the way she went after David Letterman."

"The time has come to rise up and take this country back -- to again make it safe for people who actually completed the seventh grade."

I'm so smitten.

Charm City Shoot.

I bet I just fooled you because this is not about gunfire.

SMF and I went here earlier in the week and, while waiting for our food, this crew showed up.


The Hipster is wearing scrubs and eavesdropping on Guy's heartbeat with a stethoscope while he eats some sort of pulled meat sandwich covered in what I hope was the Kansas City Sweet sauce. Hat looks on while Bald shoots. No explanation needed. This makes perfect sense.


Of course, no mention of Baltimore would be complete without an allusion to crime, poverty, and despair. Oh, by the way, please enjoy these dancing Crackheads:





On a completely unrelated note -- because I do not work in Baltimore, nor do I evoke inferences -- one of my students told me I was "funny as a motherfucker" today. It was so sweet I decided to include the same high praise in any recommendation letters he might later request.

Children come (to the gym for indefinite holding periods) first.

.
Quandary: What should you do when it's August 23, you are a guidance counselor in a public school system, and 8,000 of the 41,000 high school students in your county still don't have class schedules?

Apparently, if you work for PGCPS, the answer is 'nothing at all.' Even if school starts on August 24. Chillax, baby!

.

And then, when it's September 1, and the problem hasn't magically fixed itself over the course of several nights while you're at home watching Everybody Hates Chris -- give yourself the day off.

.

And on September 2 -- leave work early. I don't mean 'early' like 4:00. School's over at 2:30, so go ahead and leave at noon. You're worth it. Who wouldn't agree that after waiting the entire summer to address a known problem that has prevented you from completing the most important part of your job -- which should have been done months ago, with or without "flaws in the new computer system --" and then making minimal progress over the course of almost two full weeks, that you've earned this time off?

And while we're on the subject -- what does 'new' really mean, anyway? Because SchoolMax, the demonized computer program you've been publicly blaming for the total exposure of your stunning incompetence, has been up and running for over a year. A year. I mean, is a one year-old still a newborn, then? I feel like we're not even speaking the same language.

And should you even bother to tell the teachers what's going on? Fuck, no! They're only the most important people in the school -- keep them on a need-to-know basis, because it's not like they need to know anything about, you know, students or classes. Continually stall them in the weeks before school with ambiguous half-answers and glaring omissions when they express concern over the obvious red flags popping up everywhere.

Remember all those times last year when you demanded they block out instructional time so you could come in and talk to their classes about various items of banal minutiae -- and then didn't show up at all? These people love surprises. Remember their looks of unadulterated joy when they walked into work on August 24 and gazed upon a sea of pissed off adolescents herded into the gym like cattle?

It was like Christmas for them. The only thing better was when you started putting 50 freshmen in 11th grade history classrooms with 35 desks just to get a few kids out of the gym. What the hell? I mean, they'd get to 11th grade eventually, right? Standing against cinderblock walls in poorly-ventilated rooms for 90 minutes at a time like Jews at Dachau will improve everyone's posture. And maybe they'll learn about that this year.

I'm really pleased with my new leadership.

Rolled into school for my first of four mandatory days of "professional development," before the students show up to "learn," at 8:00 this morning. On my way there, I kept thinking about how lucky I was last year because I was only asked to write one recommendation letter. And, I thought, I should try to be positive about the new administration -- we have two new assistant principals (Hot Pocket Enforcer is gone), and a new principal. I allowed myself to think the one thing you should never, ever verbalize in these types of situations: How much worse can it get?


I was pounding my fists into the wall of my classroom, trying to get posters to stick, when M, an 11th grader from last year ambled in and asked for a recommendation. I don't recommend M for anything, aside from maybe a few rounds of electroshock therapy, but, I asked, "When do you need it?"

That was after I read Hot Pocket Enforcer's jaunty email about his transfer; it was rife with unconcealed glee, and said something to the effect of Peace out ... bitches.

The one assistant principal remaining from last year informed me, bluntly, that I owe him a favor because he wrote me a recommendation; apparently, the former principal's email got forwarded to him when she got promoted for being completely ineffectual. So now I probably have to chair a committee or something.

My favorite part about working here has always been watching the scum rise to the top of the quagmire with meteoric speed. So, I feel really good about my new leadership now that they've called a meeting about Procedure X without first bothering to find out what we did last year -- or deciding how Procedure X will be handled this year. I especially appreciated that after waiting around for three hours -- during which time it was impossible to do anything productive because the class schedule, apparently, is best kept a clandestine secret until the last possible second -- to attend this mandatory meeting that was only scheduled to take 15 minutes, and probably took less time because no one had any idea what was going on. But we started late.

More to be ashamed of loving.

I took a brief reprieve from thinking about health care reform today to get really excited for the season premieres of Gossip Girl and Project Runway. And I'm not at all embarrassed about that. I love watching shows about women being mean to each other, which might explain my Top 5 Shows I Should be Ashamed to Watch:

1. Gossip Girl. Misbehavior ranging in severity from underage drinking, to running away from home, to blackmail, to second degree murder. Plus: Chuck Bass, the scarf-wearing date rapist!


2. The O.C. There's witty dialogue, and it's uber self-aware. Plus, if not for Marissa Cooper, we wouldn't all be wearing flats right now.


3. The Bad Girls Club. I'm not entirely convinced the title shouldn't be 'The Bad Girls' Club,' but you had me at Ripsi.


4. The Hills. Yeah, I said it. I really love this show where blonds with no veritable life skills land all manner of dream jobs just because they're on a scripted reality show. I love the awkward silences, the West Coast cadence, and the visible eating disorders. I don't even care if it's not real. Plus: Heidi's old nose!


5. GRΣΣK. The ubiquitous red cup: it really takes me back.


Honorable mention: More to Love, and NYC Prep. Both have every ingredient in their favor, but they're just, you know, not that good.

Update: Is anyone surprised by this?

It turns out insurance companies may have their claws directly in the melee, stirring up the mayhem. But, wait. I don't understand. I thought their only purpose for being was to protect us?

Now: let's play the deconstruction game!


$80,000 a year worker with no insurance: First of all, what the hell is wrong with you? You make $80,000 a year. Even in New York, can afford some fucking insurance.

Second, what's it like being the token poor one on this piece of propaganda? I mean, sure, you make $80,000 a year but, my God, look at you. You're of ambiguous ethnicity, you're female, and you appear to be serving that food. My feelings of pity as a direct result of the overt feminization of poverty are fighting with my disdain for all "people" in the service industry. You're so sad, yet so gross.

Third, where are you serving food where you're allowed to have your hair all over the place, yet still making $80,000 a year? Since you're clearly lucky, you probably don't even need insurance.

Small business owner who'll have to lay off one person to pay for health care for everyone else: Is this guy even in business anymore? If so, I guarantee there's at least one employee he's been dying to get rid of, anyway. No one will claim it's not worth laying off one person so everyone else can have health care. Besides, he can go work in that restaurant.

Wall Streeter: You are a pariah, and no one cares about you -- but you.

Married couple with a combined income of $1.5M: There are so many zeros behind you, they take up too much space on the flier, despite the fact that you two take up almost half the flier. Is that some kind of subtle metaphor, or something? Anyway, I can't possibly be expected to feel bad for you because you have to pay more taxes; I'm too busy planning to rob your house while you're in the Hamptons. Your disgruntled housekeeper, who's been polishing your glee club trophies with a sprained wrist, is going to let me in the front door.

Of course, all of this incidental compared to the mathFAIL.

The Wall Streeter is going to be charged a surtax of one percent on every dollar he makes over $280,000. That's 1% of $5,000. That's $50.

I'm just not sure how I feel about everyone else maybe having health care.

Praise Allah! Barack Hussein Obama just won't stop terrorizing the American public by trying to offer them health care! Will there be no relief?

I guess I shouldn't be surprised that everyone's turning on Obama now that he's trying to make good on some of the promises that got him elected. I mean, we're not used to that kind of -- oh, what's the word?

Honesty? Integrity? Doing the job you're paid to do? I can't remember; I'm so used to this:



Anyway, suddenly every illiterate fucker is just swelling with civic pride. It hasn't been this hip to be politically active since back in the day when people were afraid of AIDS. I don't know why lunatics always scream the loudest, but if I hear one more person say anything remotely similar to "I want my country back," I'm going to commit a hate crime. Really. I can't take this anymore.



Oh, you love America? You get all hard and tingly for the founding fathers? Show me where it says "All men are created equal, but some aren't entitled to health care." Show me where it says "... life (unless you have a preexisting condition), liberty, and the pursuit of happiness." Because if not everyone deserves health care, then not everyone deserves to live (Right, Deamonte?). And that must mean that everyone who's fighting this health care reform is pro-choice, because otherwise they're hypocrites, right?

Right, guys?

Guys?

And stop saying you're against government medicine if you're on Medicare. Really. You're done. Thanks for playing.

After two years of completely inadequate health insurance, followed by six months of no insurance, I've grown really fond of my nearly-adequate health insurance plan. And I know change can be scary. But I can't even tell what I'm supposed to be afraid of anymore because all the lines of propaganda are getting crossed. Plus, no one's actually read the health care reform bill because it's 2,000 pages long. That, to me, implies that some thought might have gone into it, but, who knows. It's weird: I feel like we've been here before.

All I can tell, so far, is that this isn't really about Obama trying to limit anyone's freedom -- unless you consider limiting the haves' freedom to oppress the have-nots a violation of Constitutional rights. I didn't see that in there, but, please, show me. This is about us not wanting to pay for them, and being forced to consider the notion that our money might not buy us privilege anymore.

And now that I think about it, well, shit. I was getting really comfortable with my little piece of hegemony. But, remember kindergarten? Sometimes we have to share our toys. It's kind of like how I don't feel I should have to keep paying into social security since I'm not going to see any of that money, but it keeps coming out of my checks anyway. That's what it really looks like to lose your freedom of choice, and I don't hear anyone complaining about that. So can it, yokel.

Maybe, before we oppose our scary new black President, we should try to figure out what he really has planned for us. This doesn't even read like satire anymore.

CockBib Inventor 'DEMANDS' to be Taken Seriously

In case you've missed CockBibgate unfolding at Jezebel, here's a CockBib megamix, in order, with greatest-hits-style commentary:

CockBibs: Keys to Not Getting a Blow Job by Tracie

5.19.09

Oh god. Washington City Paper introduces us to the CockBib, an adult novelty item worn around a penis, making "cleanup after oral sex a breeze." Because getting head can be a hassle for men!

The slogans on the CockBibs are so stupid, and the mental image of dangling a piece of cloth off an erect penis is so ridiculous, that it's impossible to imagine that they could ever be truly utilized, because most women who came face to face with such a thing would either laugh too much to actually suck a dick, or be completely turned off by the dork attached to it.

The creator of the CockBib came up with his invention after being a "victim of another sloppy blow job" and thought to himself, "Damn, I can't just fall asleep, I need to get up and wash my balls." It was my understanding that most guys liked having their balls licked and sucked on. It was also my understanding that most men make do with dirty underwear, a sheet corner, or, you know, evaporation, for a hideous problem like damp balls.

But what do I know? Maybe this is something that every man kept a secret from us for centuries up until now. I have to say though that if they're going to be babies about it, a bib is fitting.

DontFearTheReefer
05/19/09

WON'T SOMEONE PLEASE THINK OF THE MEN???? THEIR BALLS ARE ALL WET AND DROOLY. WET AND DROOLY!!!!

zu_zu
05/19/09

Damn if they're that devoted to cleanliness, I suggest they just get sexy with the vacuum hose.

saintbernadette
05/19/09

Does this mean I get to wear a HazMat outfit?

BabyJane
05/19/09

It's not like you're eating a lobster.

---

"It Would be Disgusting to Wipe Wet Balls Off with the Corner of a F*cking Sheet." by Tracie

5.22.09

Earlier this week, we posted about CockBibs, an adult novelty item intended to keep balls dry during a blow job. Well, someone purporting to be the CockBibs' inventor wrote us last night, saying he "had no choice but to respond."

I just read this article that you guys wrote on CockBibs and it was very dissapointing to say the least. You guys were so hard on me and my CockBibs that I feel I have no choice but to respond. As a man I love to get my balls sucked and licked, but what I don't love is a quart of saliva in my pubes, making is way down to my balls, with every intention of reaching my ass! It would be disgusting to ask a man to keep on some dirty wet underwear or wipe his wet balls off with the corner of a f*cking sheet. It would be even worse to let it evaporate. Would you as women let our saliva dry up on you? Would you go to sleep in some wet panties? I think not! I am thankful that we now have CockBibs, I would have been using these years ago if they were around. I am sure that you guys know that this is purely a novelty. Thought it can be utilized to keep ones balls dry, and quite effectively might I add, it primarily functions as a funny gag gift meant to bring a smile to someones face. I would like to think that everyone could find the humor in CockBibs, but what can I really expect, this is a femminist site right? I Do have to thank you guys though because you have inspired a new CockBib and that CockBib shall read... " Jezebels Need Only Apply!"! Maybe then you guys will lighten up and stop slamming CockBibs.

That's OK, Mr. CockBib. We would not want to take part in any blow job-related gag you have to offer us.

Related: we were not the only people to be on the receiving end of his marketing wrath. Amanda Hess, who wrote about CockBibs for the Washington City Paper's blog, emailed us to let us know that someone from Cockbibs HQ got all up in her comments section. "Some person from the CockBib coalition began posting a bunch of fake comments under my name and others (from the same IP address). They started out just being PR ("lol I love these CockBibs I'm going to buy one for my husband!") and then started to get more personal." This one is her favorite:

1. Amanda Hess Says:
May 20th, 2009 at 4:29 pm edit

Look at me, I'm amanda hess. I work for jezebel so I am special! I can show everyone my super posting powers because I am amanda hess! lol

HoneyBoom
05/22/09

When these don't sell, maybe he can re-purpose and re-brand them to LonelyFaceBibs- which keep your cheeks dry whilst you are crying because "Femminists" are mean bitches who won't give you blow jobs.

vivianthelibrarian
05/22/09

"It would be disgusting to ask a man to keep on some dirty wet underwear or wipe his wet balls off with the corner of a f*cking sheet."

You know what else might be kind of disgusting? Putting a dick in my MOUTH. Shut up CockBib guy, it was kind of funny as a novelty, but then you had to go getting all serious.

---

CockBibs Inventor Has a Few Words for Our Commenters by Hortense

5.24.09

The mysterious inventor of CockBibs has already written one Crap Email to express his disgust with our take on his product. But after that email was posted, he felt the need to respond—again.

I hate to break it to you guys, but Mr. Cockbibs is NOT pleased with you, nor is he amused by your comments. In fact, he calls several of our commenters out by name, which indicates that at least a handful of you are on the CockBib Enemies List.

Subject: I don't give a shit what your readers think, i sell CockBibs Baby.. get it right!

What is this shit? I created the CockBib.... and this is the mutherfucking thanks I get?

It was my understanding that feminist were supposed to to have some level of intelligence, and if not that at least some common sense. I not at all surprised at your readers comments which broadly displays their lack of self respect and decency.

I have never seen such unladylike like behavior in my life. They sound like a bunch of dirty mouth male bashing whores running to jump on the "I'm gonna hate CockBibs because she said she hates Cockbibs" bandwagon! I don't give a fuck what your degenrate readers (the ones who made those nasty comments) think about my product.

Lets be clear.. I am not purporting anything, I am the creator of the CockBib and I am not confused on whether or not my CockBib is a novelty or a utility item. It is a novelty item that can be utilized.

For example, I am sure you and some of your readers have been to a bachelorette party and I am sure at that party they had novelty items such as penis straws, penis candy, penis paper plates and cups, etc. The point is just because they are novelty items does not mean that they can't be functional. You can still eat the penis candy, sip from the penis cup with a penis straw and eat off the penis paper plate.

To your readers,

I understand that you guys may not be completely happy with your lives. Some of you are single and lonely, some of you are married and unhappy, some of you are divorced or headed there. Some of you are lesbians which if you are not outwardly comfortable, can be dificult! Shit, some of you might be happily married but just feel the need to bitch about something!

What I am trying to say is that I understand. I understand that when you guys get together and post hate filled comments on sites like Jezebel.com, about people you don't know anything about, it makes you feel just little bit better about yourselves. It gives you a sense of sisterhood and belonging when joining forces to use your super human bitching powers against the creator of the offensive "CockBib". My advice to you is (not like you will use it) try to do somthing more useful with your time than eating, bitching, hating on men and posting your problems away on Jezebel.com!

Regardless of what you guys think or say about me I am happy. How many of you can truly say the same?

Also, please tell the following readers I said fuck you!

pursedangler: fuck you

ichago18: fuck you

andbegorrah: fuck you

Ibleedglitter: you're cool

and natekyswhoreskidsister: fuck you

I am out!

***Oh, and to MorningGloria, I guarantee you that this "illiterate fucker" makes more money than you do! :)**

Oh snap! You just got told by a man who makes novelty bibs for men who don't want saliva on their balls, which, in case you were wondering, is the internet equivalent of being given the evil eye by the dude who works behind the counter at Spencer Gifts.

Will we ever reach the heights of Mr. CockBibs? Will we ever be able to touch the CockBib-enhanced stars that sail across his novelty product stars? Alas, perhaps we shall never know. For all we are, after all, is a bunch of "dirty mouth male bashing whores" who lack the "decency" of Mr. CockBibs.

Oh, and for the record, Mr. CockBibs, we are plenty happy. This is probably due to the fact that our boyfriends recognize that bibs are for, well, babies. But good luck to you, good sir! May your condescending, woman-bashing ways ensure that saliva on your balls won't be a problem you have to worry about for a long, long time, bib or no bib.

Update: The Urban Dictionary defines a cockbib as "A person who whines excessively about a common, everyday occurrence that the vast majority of people have no trouble handling or do not even recognize as a problem." You guys wouldn't know anything about that, would you?

Renee377
05/25/09

For those of you who were wondering what ever happened to the guy from "True Life: I'm Getting Married, Staten Island Edition," well, I think it's now pretty clear that he went on to invent cockbibs.

MediumMac
05/25/09

"I created the Cockbib and this is the mutherfucking thanks I get?"

Why SHOULD I give you any thanks, you self-congratulatory asshat? I don't have balls that will be lovingly draped in your silly invention. Come up with a Vag Vest or Pussy Ponchos, or a Bits Beret and then I'll give you your props.

Old Jean Gallagher
05/24/09

And it was MY understanding that if you're going to call someone's intelligence into question, you should possess at least some skill in spelling, grammar, and/or knowing when you're being a hypocrite.

Thanks for playing!

---

"I Know How You All Look Forward to Your Weekly Rampaging Bitch Sessions About Me and [CockBibs]" by Tracie

8.10.09

Do you remember CockBibs? Or the unhinged man who invented them? Well, he's firing off angry emails to us again. This time, he's irate about an Urban Dictionary definition that Jezebel readers created—and made popular!—for the term "cockbib."

All typos have been left unedited, because, well, it's just more fun that way.

I know that it has been a while since you have heard from me but I just wanted you and your readers know that CockBibs are Alive and Kicking! Sorry for dissappearing on you and your readers like that, I know how you all looked forward to your weekly rampaging bitch sessions about me and product.

It's funny, I took the time to read ALL the comments and I noticed that one of you readers took it upon themselves to create a definition for CockBib and a bunch of your readers co-signed this dumb ass definition! Lets just say I am not amused! I DEMAND that your readers go back to the urban dictionary and give that definition the Thumbs Down! Its like over 2000 Up Votes! I mean, what the Hell? Are you guys gonna start burning Cockbibs next in protest of them or throwing paint on then. I am sure your clever readers will find some new and innovative way to desecrate my bibs.

I guess he's trying to tell us that he prefer we spit on, rather than talk shit on his CockBibs.

Look, its not like I am selling Gangster Rap, Fur Coats or clubbing baby seals. Cut me a Friggen Break! I am really pissed about this urban dictionary shit! I did not work this hard to create a product just so that you and your readers can poke fun at it and misrepresent it! Alot of time and care goes into what I do and I happen to have a great product, as it turns out is more people buy it as a Gag Gift than a Blowjob Bib but Fuck It, Whatever! Its still funny as hell!

Tracie, I have no problem with you but it is your responsibilty to fix this!

He's right. It is my responsibility to fix this. I can't believe that the Urban Dictionary definition of cockbib ("A person who whines excessively about a common, everyday occurrence that the vast majority of people have no trouble handling or do not even recognize as a problem") is hovering around 2500. It should be way more. So go over and vote for it today!

likepenguins
11:53 AM

ha ha ha, "work this hard." Dude. You took a bib, narrowed the hole considerably, and stuck it on your cock. One time I masturbated by sitting on a massaging chair, but I didn't invent the vibrator.

pesematology
08/10/09

OMFG I just noticed the "get this definition on a mug" button. AMAZING. Now if only there was a "get this definition on a highball glass" button. I think I'm going to start hosting a weekly cocktail hour dedicated to "rampaging bitch sessions" in his honor.

ClockOnTheStove
08/10/09

It's a cockbibbin' shame that this cockbib just out-cockbibbed himself. He ought to cockbib up and just get a cockbibbin' clue! How many cockbibs does it take to cockbib in a cockbib? Cockbib.

The East Coast Opportunity Myth

I went to look at some houses with SMF yesterday. It should have been a joyous occasion, as it is totally a big deal to buy one's first home. I was happy for SMF and, I think, appropriately reverent of his success heretofore, as I realize that, even if I had generous parents who loved me enough to kick in for a down payment -- which I do not, currently, have -- I still wouldn't be able to buy a house by myself here unless I doubled my salary. And that, I think, explains why these billboards are all over Baltimore:



So, here's how I came away from day two of househunting disillusioned, confused, and slightly angry. SMF has x number of dollars to spend. That number used to sound like a lot to me as, where I come from, x number of dollars will buy you something like this:


It's really greatexcitingwonderful that SMF is buying a home. That's definitely preferable to renting an apartment in the country's murder capital. But. For God's sake, my parents spent less than x, and they have an indoor pool. Apparently, in Maryland, x number of dollars buys you a townhouse with on-street parking. SMF sees nothing wrong with this, so that's definitely one benefit of growing up here: diminished expectations.

We looked at three houses yesterday and, as they went from fine, to nearly acceptable as a starter home, to decrepit and horrifying, I looked back with nostalgia at everywhere else I've ever lived. And even though I wonder, Why does anyone live here? at least three times a week, my normal bewilderment took on an edge of existential desperation during and after househunting. I was told our economy was in the toilet, and that home prices were falling to unbeatable lows. I guess I got too excited about that, because then I realized: What if these places are selling for less than they're "worth?"

I thought of a friend who just purchased a house in Ohio for $10,000. I thought about what x number of dollars will buy you in Delaware. And then I tried to picture the rest of my life in Maryland.


Mostly, I came away from yesterday's experience ashamed of my hypothetical inability to contribute; even if SMF and I were buying a house together, we'd still be looking at townhouses with on-street parking -- just, maybe, in Howard County. I have to get a better job. Immediately.

The real bitch about all this is that I only moved here because I was told there were jobs here. And every time I talk to a new transplant, they say, "There are jobs here." Of course, there are jobs here that you can't do anywhere else; no one I know has one of those jobs. But we all keep perpetuating this notion, like we couldn't be teachers, lawyers, engineers, social workers, journalists, literally anywhere else.

This East Coast opportunity myth must die. It's misleading, and untrue, and just wrong. Native Marylanders get weirdly offended when I ask Why does anyone live here? but, as far as I can tell, people only live here because they're already here.


But, you know, this isn't really my thing. I don't understand why people live here, but I have to admit I'm impressed by people who can. Good luck settling, homeowners.

National Racist Week

Hey, racists!

Hats off to you, this week, for really stepping up your game. First, you arrested a black Harvard professor, blatantly furthering the notion that Boston is one of the most flagrantly racist places in America. But blaming the victim isn't just for cops anymore; some Boston Globe readers even got in on the action and left insightful anonymous comments [sic]:

Here we go. Let's blow this out of all proportion. Let's not wait until we hear the full story....bring on the Jesse Jackson/Al Sharpton circus.

sure. EVERY minority who has to deal w/ the police, merited or not, is the victim of...what was that again? racial profiling? oooh that sounds bad, the cops r badd peeple!

Enough of throwing down the race card ... we have a Black President now, so that tired old ship has sailed. The guy got indignant like any self-important Harvard professor does, pulled the old "Do you know who I am?" routine, and got arrested as a result.

Then, not to be outdone by those uppity bitches who can't even pronounce the letter R, but think it's a word, the Midwest stepped up its game and kicked some brown kids out of a swimming pool for altering 'the complexion' and 'atmosphere' of a country club.

No, really.

Now, of course, the Creative Steps daycare is suing the Valley Swim Club and Tyler Perry is bankrolling 65 of those brown kids to go to Disney World -- for two days. What a selfless and truly inspired move that is not only tax deductible, but will also completely erase the pain of racism -- for two days.

Coming soon to a theatre near you: Madea Makes a Nominal Effort.

Now look, South, I know you've had this racism thing in the bag since before Satan planted the slaves' bones here to trick President Lincoln into signing the Emancipation Proclamation, but don't get complacent on me now. You've been awfully quiet this week. Imagine: 65 yankee brown kids with minimal supervision in the happiest place on Earth™. That's a little freebie from the Midwest. Can you put down the Mountain Dew long enough to extend some Southern hospitality™?

When Keeping it Real Goes Wrong.

I can't think of any quicker way to get your tires slashed.

A Tribute.

My first thought, upon hearing of Michael Jackson's death: I didn't know he could do that. I seriously thought the man would never die.

My second thought: He threw out The Shocker a lot while dancing. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized how deeply ingrained this particular hand gesture is in our culture.

Of course, one always has options when throwing a sign:

But The Shocker remains tried and true because of its beautifully efficient symbolic nature in non-verbal communication. It's almost as if "When You Say Nothing at all" was written with this gesture in mind.

MJ does it.

George Takei almost does it.

Letterman does it.

Ben Stein does it.

.

Chuck Norris does it.

Administrative professionals do it.

W does it.

It runs in the family.

Cheerleaders do it.

Again.

And Again.

Retired cheerleaders do it.

No wonder cheerleading is the most dangerous sport.