Help, I’m Trapped In My Shirt

Can someone please explain how it’s possible to put on a shirt, and then not know how the hell you’re supposed to take it OFF? I can’t be alone here. It was a day like any other day. (Pretending to sound dramatic.) I received my online order, and was excited to try everything on. In hindsight, that was very naïve of me. I grabbed the first blouse, but hesitated putting it on because of the lack of stretch. I should’ve known not to take the risk, but what the hell, what’s life without a little risk? Trying on clothes is fun! Well, it was easy enough getting into. While it was on, it looked fine. A little loose, but in a good way, because who needs to see my love handles?

But then…THEN…I decided I should take it off and try on the next top. Makes sense, because when you try something on, you’ll eventually need to take it off. Easier said than done. Maybe I never learned how to properly remove my clothing. Maybe I’m just totally clueless. Or maybe there needs to be a law about all tops having at least 5% elasticity in the waist and shoulder areas, for those of us who are, you know…NOT PERFECT. Because maybe some people have broader shoulders than others, and can’t just gracefully remove the top over their head. Maybe some people can’t bend their elbows awkwardly enough in order to find their way out of the arm-hole. Maybe, asshole, it shouldn’t be so damn complicated to take off a fucking shirt.

Attention, clothes-maker. The removal of one’s clothing should not cause one to sweat, you hear me? Absolutely not. Removal of one’s clothing should also not cause slight to moderate panic attacks at the thought of being trapped in the garment forever, or the thought of having to scissor your way through a brand new shirt. None of these things should happen. EVER. Maybe if I had a perfectly proportional body, it wouldn’t be such a workout to get in and out of non-stretchy tops. Perhaps the clothes were being intentionally difficult, so as to inspire me to work out or chop off my love handles and shoulders. Or maybe none of that should matter, because who the hell are you to judge? Just make your clothes stretchy and forgiving, would you? I should hope this incident will not soon repeat itself. You’ve been warned, evil clothes-makers. So beware. Because, yeah. There’s jack shit I can do about it.



Things I Can’t Stand – Part 6


Okay, ABC. I bet you think your shows are awesome. They probably make you tons of money too. Well, I just wanted to thank you for creating The Bachelor and all those wonderful spin-off shows that make me ashamed to be human. Nicely done! It’s kind of weird, because I’m sure the people are real, but everything just seems so….fake. Hmm. I guess that’s a prerequisite for reality TV shows. You can’t have reality without a little bullshit fiction, am I right?

It’s amazing how natural you make everything look. I almost believe that I should have a row of guys waiting for me, dressed in nice suits…or armor, sweating it out for the sake of a rose. Every guy’s dream come true. It looks so natural when the bachelor(ette) is standing there, sighing heavily, looking down a lot, building the tension before giving away the final rose. Epic. Just look at all those men fighting for one women’s attention. Do you see how excited they get when she walks away, and comes back with a little rose for them? So natural. Real life should totally work that way. Tell me, is there a script? There has to be, because I can’t believe the shit that comes out of those people’s mouths. Priceless, really. Or better yet, it’s epic. Because the word epic is totally appropriate for a bullshit TV show. I’ve even come to forget what that word actually means. I showered all by myself this morning and it was epic.

Young girls everywhere used to dream of falling in love with their high school sweetheart and getting married. Now young girls get to dream of growing up and being on The Bachelor. Better yet, they can aim higher and dream of being on The Bachelorette. Why fight for one guy when 25 guys can fight for YOU? Talk about a dream come true. Honestly, America owes you so much, ABC. I don’t even want to think about falling in love with a guy unless 25 other women are competing for his love, or 25 men are lining up for me in the hopes of building a collection of tiny roses. And if that doesn’t work out, because, let’s face it, it never does, then I can join a whole bunch of other lonely castmates for a chance to bring shame to my family win $250,000. Righteous! Normal relationships are just so boring. Thanks for that. No, really, thank you. You make this world a better place.



What it all comes down to...
What it all comes down to…

The Art Of Stupidity

Take a look around you. Stupidity is in. It is the it thing, it is high-fashion, it is awesome. It’s so awesome that it can even make you rich. That’s right, you heard me…RICH! Who needs an education? Who even needs brain cells? Don’t hurt your brain or waste your time by thinking. Pssshh!

Why are you killing yourself working 8 hours a day, 5 days a week? It’s not necessary. Forget what your parents told you. The secret to success is not hard work, persistence, or the ability to continue learning. (Or the ability to learn at all. Does 1 + 1 = 3? Okay, cool!) Take a look at these people who have mastered stupidity (shamelessness) and have made money while doing it.

This show is called Wipeout. Yeah…
bachelor nonsense
Because all relationships should start this way. Life is just not realistic unless you’re humiliating yourself in public all for the sake of…a rose.
Host of The Bachelor and its spin-offs. He gets rich by being overly dramatic and telling you things you already know.
Host of The Bachelor and its spin-offs. He gets rich by being overly dramatic and telling you things you already know.
I probably shouldn’t publicly criticize a child. That’s okay, this picture says it all…
The woman who made Honey Boo Boo. Seriously…the hell?
She's large and in charge. But I bet she can't even dance...
She’s large and in charge. But I bet she can’t even dance. Seriously, who put her in charge?
Celebrities…diving…into water. It’s never been done before!
All I did was have sex...I still can't figure out how I became a mommy.
All I did was have sex…I still can’t figure out how I became a mommy.
One sister’s shamelessness made all of them rich. Isn’t she admirable?
Good thing her father's rich...
Good thing her father’s rich…

I just know you want to be like them! I hope my future children take a lesson from these marvelous people. I’m sure their goal in life will be to do whatever ridiculous thing will get them on television. Not such a hard goal, considering how everyone and their mother has a TV show now-a-days, but it’s a goal nonetheless! I’m going to be one proud mom.

Disclaimer: Fake boobs and/or a willingness to walk around half-naked can also make you rich. You know, in case stupidity doesn’t cut it.

Oh, and on a serious note, they have officially run out of ideas for TV shows. What a joke.

Bugs Have Feelings Too

When you stumbled upon my little blog, you probably never thought I’d be providing you with breaking news updates. That’s probably because I’ve never done so, therefore you’d have no reason to expect such a thing. But what do you know, there’s a first time for everything. (This post WILL be weird. And do you know why? Because I’m awesome weird.)

According to a recent study done by BunchaBull, we have reason to believe that approximately 90% of all bugs are suicidal. That is a very alarming percentage, indeed. Only a small 10% are true optimists, living life to the fullest, never knowing when they’ll have the misfortune of being on the wrong end of a shoe.

Sadly, the majority of these creatures are pessimists, believing that no matter how hard they work, they will never be appreciated. Rather than just letting things happen, they’ve decided to take the reins and end their miserable little lives. If you don’t believe it, just take a look inside your home. They are crying out for feces help.

House invasion is the most popular method of bug suicide. Possibly, it’s the only method. Notice the spider hanging by a thread, slowly making its way down to the floor. SUICIDAL. It knows you’ll see it and of course you’ll kill it. That fly buzzing around your ear over and over again, taunting you. DEATH WISH. That nasty whatchamacallit just chilling on the wall, daring you to do something. IT. WANTS. TO. DIE.

Why else would a sane bug just wander into a house full of humans? They have no will to live. Depression hurts. They know humans have little to no regard for a bug’s life, so this is a fool-proof suicide plan. We can do one thing to help, and that’s to kill them quickly. They suffer enough just by being tiny and disgusting. Our studies recommend keeping your shoe pressed firmly against the bug for a full 5 seconds. Otherwise, you might end up slicing off a couple of legs, killing an organ or two, and leaving them to die slowly. Tragic, truly tragic.

Not much can be done to avoid future bug suicides. There are very few bug therapists out there, and even fewer bugs who are interested in discussing their personal issues. Bug suicide is just another fact of life that we are forced to accept. It’s a cruel world. Do your part and be as compassionate as possible. A quick death is the best kind of death.

I knew you couldn’t have lived without this breaking news, so you’re welcome. Don’t forget, you heard it here first. 

© Lily F

I Know What Doctors Really Want

*This post might be considered slightly inappropriate.*

What is it with doctors wanting to see us naked? I understand my chest would need to be exposed if I was going in for open-heart surgery, but what about a tonsillectomy? Are my clothes blocking your access to my tonsils? Really? If I needed stitches on my wrist, would I have to get undressed for that too? I think doctors are just looking for whatever free porn they can get. Not cool, doctor, not cool. Get your dose of porn off the internet like everyone else does.

Visits to the doctor are never pleasant. Being seen at your worst by a complete stranger is cruel and unusual punishment. Sitting on your back with your mouth wide open, teeth being scraped to death. Being weighed when you’d rather keep those extra pounds a secret. Having your breasts felt up, fondled mercilessly. Having your dark place inspected by a cold metal object and a gloved hand. For men, having your junk inspected while you turn and cough. For everyone in their 50s and older, being on your stomach and having an object go UP a place where crap things should only come DOWN.

I understand that, for health reasons, these things probably need to be done. But who grows up and decides that THIS is what they want to do? “When I grow up, I want to inspect people’s assholes colons!” “When I grow up, I want to be a down there doctor! I want to look at them all day!” I’m not trying to ridicule these professions. I know someone has to do it, but I just can’t imagine actually wanting to. Why would a straight woman want to look at vaginas all day long? A straight man WOULD want to look at vaginas all day, and that’s highly disturbing, don’t you think?

I’m onto you, doctors. I know what you really want out of that high-paying job. I know that you don’t really want to keep us healthy. It’s all about free porn. The lengths people will go to for free porn is just sickening. Shame on you, doctor, shame on you.


Look Out, Here She Comes

Hurricane Sandy is on her way. She might be a total bitch. She also might be a sweet little thing, just passing through to say hello. Either way, I hope she doesn’t stay too long. Or better yet, maybe she shouldn’t come at all. Not to be rude, Sandy, but you’re not welcome here.

Our world is so backwards lately. There are so many storms happening in places where they don’t usually happen. Most of these storms are much more damaging than usual. Every time I hear about a major storm causing devastation somewhere, I become more convinced that the world is coming to an end. I don’t want to believe in the whole December 21, 2012 thing, but just look around you. Mother Nature is more furious than ever. And people are stooping lower and lower every day. We do terrible things to ourselves and to others. If Mother Nature doesn’t put an end to us, we’ll probably destroy ourselves anyway.

I don’t want to write about how disgraceful the human race is. The News reminds us of that every day. I’d rather end this post on a lighter note. Why do storms get human names? There is nothing cute about storms. Instead of Hurricane Sandy, it should be Hurricane Savage. Maybe the next storm should be called Hurricane Chucky. The name Chucky makes us think of evil dolls something awful, so that’s a fitting name. Storm names need not be cute, people. What’s next, Hurricane Cinderella? Maybe Hurricane Rainbow? How about Hurricane Giggles? You just know that’s bound to be one awesome storm.

Stay safe, everyone. Hopefully, it will all be over soon. No, not the world! Just the storm.


For The Last Time, I Promise

They know. They heard how much I love road work so they decided to bring it home, RIGHT to my street. Are you as excited as I am? The entrance to my living area is closed for repaving. REPAVING. It’s so awesome how they’re repaving everything everywhere. I’m not complaining though. It makes more sense than the poor patch jobs they were doing. Lazy fuck faces. See, that’s what pisses me off I love. They inconvenience you by patching up little sections at a time. Then they realize the patches aren’t good enough, so they inconvenience you even more by finally repaving. Maybe they should have just repaved initially, therefore saving time, money, and aggravation. Not that I’m aggravated. I love road work like unfit mothers love unplanned children. There is nothing better than having to deal with traffic leaving or entering your own street. NOTHING tops that joy. No wait, there is something better. Driving on a road where one lane is poorly patched and bumpy, and the other lane is stripped down and about 3 inches lower than the first lane. THAT is mega fun, kind of like a roller coaster. I love roller coasters!

Alright readers, I promise I won’t post again about road work for a while. No matter how much road work surrounds me, I will not speak of it. Even if they do road work right outside my front DOOR so that I can’t step foot outside, you won’t hear me complaining. I will suffer love and embrace it in silence. (In my defense, there’s been road work on this street on and off since last year. GO AWAY ALREADY.) But while I’m still writing this post, I will mention road work until it makes you me sick. Road work, road work, road work, road work, road work, road work…

Well, that didn’t take long.


Road Work, I Love You


I love road work/construction, especially when it’s done during the day time. You know, when the roads are full of cars. It’s even better when it’s done in New York, where there’s never any traffic. It’s especially great when you’re not expecting it, and you get on the expressway only to find out that ALL lanes are closed up ahead. It’s just lovely when the GPS sends you in circles through a confusing neighborhood, and then wants to take you back to the closed highway. It’s awesome when you finally get past most of the road work only to get stuck in the regular evening traffic. And it’s really fun when it takes 5 hours to get to a place that’s an hour and a half away…on a Thursday. A fucking Thursday?! It’s like an adventure, and boy do we love those! And the fun continues when you inevitably have to go back home after spending 5 hours in a car, and only 2 hours with the people you were visiting. Then you discover that a very important bridge is closed, and you have to trust the GPS to get you around that line of traffic. Thankfully, the universe decides that you’ve spent enough time stuck in traffic for one day, and allows you to make it home in relatively good timing.

So, thank you for closing major highways during the day on the way there, and then doing night work on the way back. It totally makes sense to close multiple lanes on both sides of the highway at the same time. Because really, why should you do road work from 10pm – 5am, when there are fewer cars on the road? After all, it was imperative that you repave the few miles of highway that were actually decent. No need to repave the roads that are bumpy and scattered with potholes. No thank you. I love bumps and potholes almost as much as I love road work. My heart flutters when I see those famous orange signs. “Look, look! They’re doing road work today! I’m so excited! It’s like, everywhere we go, road work follows!” Did I mention that orange is my new favorite color?


Malls Were Meant For Napping

I was at the mall the other day and noticed a couple of teenagers sitting down. They were probably exhausted from working 8 hours a day, paying bills and you know, being teenagers. The guy was sitting in the chair and the girl was lying on his lap with her eyes closed. Um, why the frick did you go to the mall in the first place? “Hey, I’m bored. Wanna go to the mall and take a nap?” “Sure, let’s go!” Normal people don’t do that. (Right? Say it ain’t so.) The week before, I had seen something similar, except the girl was sitting in the chair sideways with her legs wide open, eyes glued to her cell phone. How cute and not the least bit inappropriate.

When you go to the mall, there’s a 100% possibility that you’re going to be using your legs. Sure, malls probably need to have benches for age-challenged people and boyfriends who don’t want to be seen shopping at Victoria’s Secret. But do we really need comfy chairs and recliners for lazy teenagers who think it’s perfectly okay to cozy up on their boyfriend’s lap…in PUBLIC? That same day, I also saw someone playing his Nintendo DS in the food court. He was at the very first table near the doors, so I honestly think he just came in, sat down and took out his game, never intending to eat or shop. “I’m so bored. I know, I’ll go to the mall and play my video game!” People, this may surprise you, but taking naps and playing video games can both be done in the privacy of your own home. So here’s a little tip at no cost to you…STAY THE EFF HOME!

I feel very out of place when I go to the mall with my boyfriend. We’re surrounded by kids who think they’re the shit because they’re hanging out at the shit mall. There are tons of horribly dressed kids smoking outside, and then more horribly dressed kids inside, with really weird hair, screaming into their cell phones, or walking with their pants hanging off their ass, or making out with someone. Yeah, you guys are SO COOL. It disturbs me to think that those teens might be looking at me and my boyfriend, thinking that we’re one of them. I want to scream, “I graduated high school in 2006, and I’ve been with my boyfriend for almost 8 years. I just came for the chicken teriyaki and maybe a little shopping. I am not one of you!” So far, I’ve been able to contain myself. SO FAR…


In Other News, Nobody Cares

Omg, did you hear? Lindsay Lohan is in trouble again, and Amanda Bynes is hot on her trail. Drugs, wreckless driving, jail time, rinse and repeat. It’s like Charlie Sheen only younger and with breasts. Oh, I’m sorry, do you not care? Yeah, me neither. “So and so broke up and so and so is in jail again and so and so is doing drugs and so and so made a sex tape and now she’s super popular.” We’ve heard it all before, E! News, so please kindly suck it.

The regular news sucks balls as it is. Why do we need to have a separate news channel just for celebrities? Why are people so interested in the lives of the rich and the wasted? I think we have enough problems of our own, such as… Hm, if I buy that dresser, can I still afford that house? Should I be worried about global warming? Is E.L. James aware how many people wish they could strangle her with a riding crop? What should I wear to work today? What is that smell? And other more pressing issues.

Enough with the celebrity hoopla and enough with the makes-you-want-to-slit-your-wrists news. “So and so robbed an old lady and so and so beat up a store clerk and so and so shot 5 people and this world is absolute crap.” Bring back the stories about dogs saving their owners from death, babies with super-human strength, talking donkeys and flying pigs. Those are the things we want to hear about. Bring back rainbows and sunshine, damnit! Is that too much to ask?

In other news, it’s Monday and summer’s over and it’s cold and I don’t like it and I’m in denial and I don’t want to start wearing a coat and I’m just gonna sit on the couch all day wrapped up in a blanket and write a nice, long run-on sentence…and how’s that for pointless news.


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