In Picking David Bowie Lyrics I Should Go With Chh-chh-Changes, but I'm Going With Moonlight, Serious Moonlight

My eyes are puffy and bleary which only means one thing! I've been crying like a wee baby and it was necessary to sing David Bowie at the top of my lungs on the way to work and marvel at the fact that if I had Karoke balls, I'd go out this weekend and rock the DB. I'd rock Mr. Bowie's tunes so freaking hard that you'd be all, "she is a hard rockin' (something that is surprising in how hard it rocks) thing".

And you see how I didn't rock hard at all right there? That's to add to the air of mystery that is going to shroud my hard rockin'ness.

So lately? I've been putting all this thought into how people are all judgy and waste their time thinking about things that make them seem cool. And by cool, I mean hip. And by hip, I mean, seriously? You take yourself that seriously? Or they do the opposite and they waste all this time thinking about how they are the opposite of hip. Or better yet... and this is my favorite. I am totally and I mean completely enthralled by people who think that the beer they drink defines them.

I could think of 100 things, wait no... (uh, 1, 2, 3...) Okay, I could think of maybe FIVE things that define me and my beer? It ain't one of them. But here is the thing, I find that I'm totally amused and want to be best friends with people who ARE concerned about how their beer defines them. And not because I think their awesomeness will rub off on me, but because I really, really want to get into their minds to find out what makes them tick.

All I know, is that by the end of that voyage? I'd want an icy, cold, Miller Fucking Lite. Because that is what is in my garage RIGHT NOW. Oooh, or better yet? A Michelob Ultra. Because I think THAT beer says, "I'm chubby, drunk and like the taste of fermented water." Because all of that? Is who I am. Well the drunk part is just a fraction of the time, but now we're getting into semantics.

I know, you? Yeah, you are fucking wowed right now. And I spent like a whole, I dunno, 5 seconds on my beer decision. I've mastered this.

Also? Yes, way back deep somewhere in my most reptilian mind, I probably feel that I'm just slightly more rad because I don't care that much.

But what makes me the hippest? Is that if I was in a bar that played, oh say, C'mon Eileen, I'd totally be all, "This place sucks!" and walk out after throwing my can of beer on the floor. But then I'd have to bend over and pick up my wood grain coozie.

***

PS BoomTube has moved to Saturday night and it's only a half hour now. Because you can't stretch this kind of fantastic out for a full hour. You just can't. So don't ask.

PPS This change already means that Jason and I are more than likely already pitted up against each other in the same time spot. He has an hour long set that might be aired at the same time. We're pulling out the cardboard dance floor tonight and having this crazy mad dance off to prove to just ourselves who is more awesome so that you, the people, don't have to.

PPSS If McCain and Obama had done that, we'd no longer be a democracy, but we'd be the coolest fucking nation in the Universe! You can bank on that!

BoomTube, Episode Four, I don't remember the links at this point...

So I don't remember all the links I promised at this point but I will watch and THEN remember, because I'm mostly awesome like that.

Also? The audio in this video might not be safe for mixed company such as your young children or your cubicle neighbor. Uh, or your mother in law.

Or Ms. Manners.



So uh, the links.

Let's try this.

And the other link I will put up when we launch the design and prepare for the design giveaway.

I hate giveaways, but this IS my own business, so you know.

Anything else I promised in the video, I'll post tomorrow. When I am sober.

Love,
Betsey

BoomTube, Episode Three, Unfortunately, We Were Not Able To Get Tony Toni Tone On The Soundtrack, But We Did Get World Famous Jason Kidd

This week's BoomTube is the "It's Our Anniversary" edition.



My husband may have made a comment about the carhop at Sonic, what he fails to tell you is that I too, would put a hurting on some roller skates.

And that's okay, we are all special snowflakes. I'm just curvier than most.

Texting With Monkey, Or There Is No Way In Hell I'm Going To Survive This Parenting A Tween Thing

Friday night Jason got home and said it was time we got new phones. He and I would upgrade and Monkey would semi-upgrade to my old phone. (Which is now covered in Pooh Bear stickers.)

(I said semi and pooh!)

With the upgrade in phones, we also added unlimited texting, which basically meant that Monkey could text now and texting was destined to become her new job, which would replace the old job of looking at me like I was dropped on my head and put on this planet to totally jack up her life.


Saturday when her dad came to pick her up, the Dude ran down the hall yelling "Sissy, your dada's home!" (How is that for blended family dynamics?) And off with her dad she went, about 2 hours later, the first text rolls in:

Hi mom. :) :P...

I responded and then she came back with:

Cool!!!!!:)...

And then:

Realy?!?!?!?!:)...

And:

Realy?? OMG!!:)

On and on this went for 3 hours until she ended with:

KINGKONG!!!!!!!!!!:) :) :) ...

Ten fucking exclamation marks. King Kong all one word, which still beats really with one L, I guess. This makes me question the school system that awarded her straight A's. Also, I'm not really sure what the hell she was talking about. I don't think she was even watching King Kong.

The good news is that this is the most we have talked in a year. You know, since "the hormones" kicked in. Well, with the exception of that day when I told her where babies came from and completely ruined her life FOREVER! Why AM I so weird and gross? The bad news? I was trying to drink in relative peace from my children and now she could reach me anywhere. Thanks 3G network! No really, freaking thank you.

In the morning I was a little hungover, eating an ice cream bar and french toast and greeted with:

God morning!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!:)...



When she got home from her dad's that afternoon I said, "Let me see your hands."

And then I broke her number 1 button pushing finger and told her she'd thank me later. Because no kid of mine was going to abuse punctuation in this manner. If she couldn't punctuate maybe she'd focus on her spelling.

I'm pretty sure this is the same program they'd use in Summer school's across the country.

The next day I caught her texting her friend:

i just got back from the grocery store

No punctuation.

"Monkey, go put that damn phone in your room!"



She had to explain to her friend later that it's not that she's NOT excited about the grocery store, who wouldn't be, it's that she is grounded from exclamation marks. And only allowed 25 texts a day.

***

PS - I totally lied about the breaking of the finger.

PPS - I just sprained it a little.

PPSS - Still lying, I kicked her in the shins...

Do I realy need to go on???!!! :) ;P :) ... OMG!!!

Because You Can Never Have Enough Shirts That Say Fingerbang Or Have My Face On Them

You know how some days you wake up and you're pretty sure that TODAY, this day is going to be the best day of your life?

Well, if I had woken up with that feeling I'd be absolutely correct. Because the lovely NATUI at Not Afraid To Use It created this just for little ol' me:



If you are so inclined to wear this piece of awesome art and tell the world what a true hipster you really are, you can find it here.

But if you buy one for yourself, please send one my way as well.

My life is complete. I'm fingerbangin' my way through the day. You hipster trash, you.

I Don't Have The Balls To Speak For My Entire Gender

I guess you can call this a counter point: In case you missed it, Dell Computers launched a new site directed at women. Meet Della.

Della is evidently pissing women off everywhere. And, those women are saying something about it. Loudly, boldly, and all over Twitter. Running the risk of offending somebody, I'm just going to go ahead and say it. Kindly shut up.

All day long I hear women bitching that marketing isn't directed at women. Women who make the majority of the buying decisions in households across the country. And guess what! When Dell does direct marketing at women they then bitch that it's insulting.

It reminds me of the pain reliever campaign that tried to speak to the mommy world and insinuated that maybe, just maybe they had back pain from carrying their little ones in slings all day long. Mommy's everywhere railed against it and how insulting it was.

Really? Was it insulting? Or did your back actually hurt from carrying that little bastard around all day long. Because I don't know about you, but my kid is heavy and my back is a mother fucker at the end of the day, thank you, I will have a pain reliever with my beer when junior goes down for the count.

So, yesterday I tried to dig in a little bit and find out what was so insulting about Della. I'm not going to name anyone here, because I'm not representing anyone else, I represent my opinion only. But I was told that this site assumes that we're not as bright as men. Really? Is that what it is saying? Or is it saying that we like things in pretty colors? Because that's what I think it's saying.

And guess what? I fucking love pretty colors. And, when I clicked on the button to build my own computer guess what that sonofabitch did! Just guess? It started asking me technical questions, just like I was, dare I say it? A man! GASP!

Yes, once you go to order a computer on this site it asks you all kind of questions about what you want your pretty pink laptop to have for brains.

I guess what I'm saying ladies, is please stop speaking for our entire gender. I never felt like Dell was telling me I needed to have a huge set to order from their site. I felt like they understood that yeah, I like my shit pretty. Just because I bleach my hair, have boobs and wear the color pink every fucking day of the week, does not mean that I don't understand the tech world. I don't understand the tech world because I just DON'T! So when the tech world gives me a site where I can pick out whatever I want, just like a man, but with pretty colors all around, well... I'm kind of pleased about it. When the marketing world realizes that yeah, my back kind of hurts from lugging my big kid around, well gee, thanks for noticing.

They never said that I was less of a man because of it. They just told me they get it and if I don't like it then I'm more than welcome to strap one on and use the regular old site just like any dude, or any woman who just doesn't dig the Della site.

And, someday I hope that I can stand up for our gender and say, "yes, I like to bake, yes I like Hello Kitty, yes I want a free spatula with that, thank you! And now, I don't give a shit how much ram I have, can I get on Twitter? Can I blog?" Because I'm just a dumb shit girl who likes what I like.

Just like all the fuss over Twitter this week with their change in reply views, I have this to say: It's all free folks! It's free! The Della site is a choice, you don't have to see it. Twitter is a choice, you don't have to use. And frankly? I think you'd bitch if they hung you with a new rope.

Let's take it down a notch and realize the intent was not to insult. So don't treat it like it was:



Oh and PS? I work in marketing. Shhh.

I'm An Asshole And It ACTUALLY Is News To Me

A little over a week ago I swore I would never guest post again. And I meant that. Because it's done not much more than bite me in my fat ass. But, then I was asked and of course I did.

I was asked to do another blog review and here's the thing about those reviews. They tear me up inside. Evidently, I'm way too kind of a person to love tearing someone a new asshole.

This time around, I wanted to love the blog. And when I clicked over and saw that the reviewee was sarcastic and funny I thought I went to freaking heaven.

Not so much.

In the course of reading every single post on her blog I discovered that not only did she liken Democrats to child molesters, but she nary went a day without making fun of overweight people.

She was coarse and shallow. She's spoiled and rotten.

And fuck!

I liked her.

Do I truly like her? No, probably not. I just don't give a big enough shit about how I look, what I wear or what anyone around me is wearing. I don't think calling people fat is a fucking riot nor am I concerned when said fatty wears a bikini.

I don't think that making fun of your Asian manicurist's grasp on the English language is funny because, hell, can you speak her language? Like at all? No? Right, she speaks two languages and you are making fun of her.

You are an ass.

So, at first I was torn up because I laid into her and called her a spoiled twat.

Which I stand by.

Wholeheartedly.

But then? Then I kept reading and reading and reading. I read the whole fucking thing.

And I liked her.

And that tore me up inside even more.

I would have a beer with this broad.

Because, evidently, I'm an asshole.

So This Good Friday Thing Is Overrated

There are a lot of really hard pills to swallow along the way when it comes to being a Royals fan. I blame almost all of them on the Yankees, who have solidly ruined baseball. I cannot blame all of it on them though. I have to place a lot of the blame with fickle, fair weather fans as well as a baseball club that knows how to blow a lead most of the time. Oh and that baseball strike thing. Like hockey - strikes ruin things.

I am not easily deterred in my fanaticalness though.

When my boss announced that a good portion of our office would be out this Friday in our Monday morning meeting, I excitedly bounced around in my chair...

Me: "For opening day, right? Freaking awesome!"

I was met with blank stares from all but two of my co-workers.

Me: "Whut?"

Boss: "Uh, it's Good Friday."

My turn to meet them all with a blank stare.

Me: "Whut? Seriously? Does Good Friday have beer?"

Boss: "Betsey..."

Me: "No! Does. Good. Friday. HAVE BEER?"

Boss (patting me): "I'll explain it later."

And then? Then! They all started in on the jokes about the Royals and how they LOSE!

Me: "No! Stop! They are on top this is their year! They are picked to win!"

Co-worker "Win what?"

Other Boss who is a Royals fan: "Betsey, give it up, it's not worth it. They don't get it"

Me: "Seriously? Good Friday? Good Friday doesn't have beer and signs. Good Friday doesn't have hot dogs and cheering. There are no peanuts and camaraderie for Good Friday! Good Friday doesn't have the crack of the bat and the sense of belonging and brotherhood with thousands of other stadium dwellers! I'll wait until Sunday!"

Co-worker: "Why wait until Sunday if you don't care about Friday?"

Me: "Seriously? You don't know me! Because I'm a fucking fan man! Besides, Sunday is way better! It's Jesus was a zombie day! There HAS to beer involved with that, right?"

***

And this is where I tell you that I didn't say that last part about the zombie.

Because I'm a puss.

Milking It

And I know you were wondering what has sent me flipping and flopping over the deep end.

I'm not ready!

I'M NOT FREAKING READY!!!!

Carry On

Yesterday I decided that you can spray Febreeze on anything...

Cats.
Fish.
Toddlers.
Dead hookers under your bed.

You know, whatever.

That's all.

Do you know what it is I'd like to say?

Because I'm not entirely sure that I do. I mean, I'd like to say that yesterday was the most offensive day that I've ever had.

Um, but that would be a complete lie. I mean there was the day that I told my best friend that it was time to tweeze because she looked like she had two dead cats glued to her forehead. Or the time I told her that if she ever went bald that she could just grow out those brows and brush them up over the top of her head and look like the Italian guy that's in all the movies like Goodfellas. (Who is Frank Sivero but there is not one good picture of him to be found).

See? Totally offensive right?

I mean I wasn't taking on the whole Jesus loving, anti-hip hop world, but it is really so few days that I do that anyway. Usually I just do that on Sunday. It's just me on the opposite side of the Fred Phelps camp, I'm annoying people in an awesome way and he's getting spit on. Usually by Jason.

Yesterday may have just been the most offensive day in my blogging history but given the mood I've been in for the past couple of months, I can give you a money back-guarantee right now that it won't be my last. Except that you don't pay for this shit, but you should start.

I'm on a mission to prove that words are just words and it's the heart behind them that is important. And trust me, peeps, there's a good heart here behind this saline.

My 'might just be an Atheist/Science is King' husband warned me I would be deemed offensive yesterday. And while I'm not an Atheist I just think that Jesus is truly my b-boy and he'd want me to think he was awesome. Because he was and is and we know he didn't drink Folgers too ;)

But it was this warning that my husband had in mind when I came upstairs laughing this morning and said "Can you freaking believe, I had a rude ass comment on my blog this morning?" I knew I was seconds away from a big fat told you so and possibly a replay of the UFC smackdown in the Booms' house. So I blurted out. "Uh yeah and can you believe it was on the posting about Crazyman getting slapped in the face? Have I done nothing right?"

So I've decided that I can't even get trolls to respond appropriately. I have utterly failed at being a good blogger.

So for that I apologize, but I will not apologize for zombies with 1/2 arms and shivs or for even saying that my son's baby-sitter has a meticulous house and bakes cookies, because how the fuck did I even DARE to tread on that ground, I ask you?

I was also unfollowed on Twitter yesterday too. By a person who JUST started following me that very day. If I knew how to get a hold of her I'd say "well obviously, you didn't even KNOW me!"

Because she didn't, so meh.

And would you look at this picture? I totally missed what I was trying to achieve:

Now that? Is totally offensive. I look like a blow-up doll that just figured out what her complete and total purpose in life is.

And for those of you that can view the Dirty Pirate Hooker's blog, you should scoot right on over there because there is a totally AWESOME cartoon by yours truly posted.

PS! I just got my new mini-laptop. My kick-ass husband left work early and came home with it to surprise me!

I've Made My Handbasket and Now I've Got To Ride In It

For some reason it seems that I didn't actually turn off ALL my readers with the Blue's Clues post. Let's try again:










I guarantee I insulted somebody with this... but I can't help it that Zombies carry shivs. Cut me some slack.