Is This Thing On?

I don't know if I am back yet, but I am poking around. Is anybody out there?

I Fucking Quit.

I give up on all Americans.

POWNED! Oh Oprah..

When it comes to pop-culture, I can get a tad behind the times. I get caught up with the trivial details of the mundane... my job and family... mortgage.....death.... I know it's stupid. Who cares about that boring shit when Lindsay Lohan is out of rehab?

Due to my lack of attention to today's celebrities and the very important goings on in their lives, I had no idea that mammoth media mogul, OPRAH, was continuing her quest for world domination by launching her own TV channel! (I almost typed show! I'm so silly!) I made this discovery by cruising the channels, trying to find my favorite show, "I'm Pregnant and...."
You can fill in the rest:
"I'm Pregnant and I'm in prison..... Addicted to Meth....Anorexic.....Unbearably Pedantic."
You get the gist.

I was saddened when my voyeuristic quest for abnormal pregancies became an exercise in futility. However, I was quite flabbergasted when I found the OWN channel. OWN? What does this mean? A shopping network? An internet practical joke channel? What could it be?

Fool! OWN is the Oprah Winfrey Network. NETWORK!I thought Oprah was retiring from TV? I guess in Oprahland, retiring means TAKING THE BITCH OVER. Silly rabbit, talk shows are for lesbians.

Since I have a soft spot for trash TV, I thought I would delve further into the purpose of OWN and whether or not I would watch broadcasts from the Empress herself. Upon watching a few shows and light research (pressing the info button on my remote, I work too hard), below are my thoughts on the OWN network.


-If OWN was an animate object, it would be a female reproductive system is the midst of menstruation.

-It would not be an Oprah production with out heavy emphasis on the Trinity of Douche: Orman, Oz and McGraw.

-Gail King is living proof nepotism is lucrative, not that we needed more. However, Gail breaks the Brat Barrier and proves you can depend on your BFF to give you your own show. WTF is GAIL going to talk about? Oprah? Because, that topic really needs some more coverage. What Oprah likes? Because the public surely has no clue? Maybe she can talk about Oprah and food? There's a topic that hasn't been covered. From BFFs to lovers?

-Oh goody, a bevy of chick-flicks! Because I really need to see the edited for TV version of Officer and a Gentleman, again. Lifetime, ye not know a woman's heart like the Oprah. Give up.

-Oprah presents "MASTER CLASS". Heavy emphasis on "Master" and as always, you, the viewer, are doing "it" wrong. "It" is life, and you are no Jay-Z, my friend.

In the spirit of Wal-Mart, OPRAH has destroyed the need for multiple cable channels by bringing the viewer a one-stop, one shop place for viewing.
Trying to recreate an authentic Japanese meal from Nobu on a shoe string budget? OWN has just what you need!
Have you been wondering just what makes Lisa Ling tick? LOOK NO FURTHER! OPRAH has the answer!
Need to get your groove back in the boudoir? OPRAH WILL RETEACH YOU!
Because, just like everything else, when it comes to fucking, you're doing it wrong!

What would the world do without Oprah and her infinite wisdom? We'd be financially destitute, eating Franco American canned foods, scooting our butts across the floor for a thrill while wondering why our parents didn't love us enough; not to mention hoarding toilet paper and dead cats in our garage.

Oprah, I propose that we as a society, embark on a crazy experiment where the "average American woman" is allowed to carry on in existence without your influence. I think "she" can do it. I think she is clever enough to make heads and tails of this big bad world without having to be constantly reminded that she is not feeling enough, living enough, or doing it "right", if she is not hanging on to your every move.

Oprah, it's been a good run. It's time to pasture.

A List of Reasons to Excuse My Lack of Attention to My Blog.

1. Meh.

2. The snark, it tires me.

3. Also, the blogosphere is riddled with assholes doing and tweeting stupid shit ALL OF THE TIME. It's becoming boring and I despise boredom.

4. Opening a business is very time consuming. My free time is spent scooping the cat box and catching up with my Real Housewives bitches from the ATL.

5. I'm suffering for my art.

6. Nobody reads this blog, anyways.

7. I've been really consumed with baking pumpkin bread.

8. People started "n'at"-ing all over the place and it can has I a sad. (ugh, I can barely type that without wanting to bang my head on something very, very hard.)

9. I've been pretty busy outing all of my compatriots at my local AA meeting via I-Phone.

10. Despite what other people say, it is not as easy to get free shit off of this here Internet. Since I still haven't gotten a new washer or flat screen TV, I'm losing interest. In all of you.

Also? I'm writing a book. Stay tuned.

THEME SONG FRIDAY!

Last night, I kicked off the Holiday season with one of my most favorite things ever: It's the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown!

The kids were not interested, as the time of the showing coincided with "Adventure Time" (please), so I got to watch it snuggled up with my kitties and dog, on my bed, all by myself. BLISS.

Happy Halloweener! What's your song?

THEME SONG FRIDAY!

Listless Mondays: A List of "No-Nos" to Avoid Before Bed.

Last night, I slept through the entire night. Sounds great, doesn't it? It wasn't. It was weird, uncomfortable, anxiety inducing and not restful due to all of the fucked up dreams I was experiencing. In retrospect, there were a few things I could have done to prevent the mess my subconscious bestowed upon me.

-Don't eat garlic before bed. I know, this should be a given, but the Little Honey is traveling and I was hungry mungry.

-Don't fall asleep with Catch a Predator Dateline NBC on the telly. The last place I need Chris Hansen hanging around, waiting to bust someone, is where Bradley Cooper hangs out in my subconscious as my "dude in waiting" for nighttime, fun-time.

-Kick the cat out of the bedroom. I woke up with a face full of hair, while being swatted in the head, in what appeared to be an epic battle for pillow control.

-Don't watch Sister Wives. Ever. That man is an epic toolbag and even though I know that dreams are not real, I would rather have dreams about Freddy Krueger using my spine as a toothpick, than being married off to that bag of douche and his posse of house fraus. His name is "Cody" for chrissakes...... Another reason to never name a poor, innocent child "CODY". Look what happens when they grow up! Nothing but a shame.


I know this list isn't long, but in my own opinion, it is filled with critical and valuable information to insure a splendid night's sleep.

You're welcome.

THEME SONG FRIDAY!

It's weekend, baby! MOTRin tonight. Partyin' til the dawn...... Well, not really, but I can pretend like I stay up to all hours and don't get up at 7:00am without an alarm clock.



What's your song today?

LISTLESS MONDAYS! Forever a lady: Jennifer Lynn Petkov!

Have you met this woman yet? I'm assuming everyone with internet access has, but for those losers who spend their free time doing more important things like volunteering at homeless shelters, taking care of the sick, or raising funds for AIDS research, instead of aimlessly perusing the internets and taking Facebook quizzes, please bask in the relentless cuntery of this fine citizen!

I thought I was an asshole!

I'm assuming that this Monday may be a very bleak Monday for the Petkov clan, despite their complete disregard for self awareness and kindness to other human beings, the sting of the internet is conducive to the assault of 8 billion bees. My guess is that Ms. Petkov is praying to the dark lord for a time machine to go back and just keep her fucking trap shut. However, it would probably be a tad, JUST A TAD, more effective to hire a public relations firm to try, TRY, to do some damage control for this family.

So, being a PR professional, I thought I would do my fellow brethren a solid and compile a list of possible damage control techniques to take when in the employ of Petkov family.


YOU'RE WELCOME!


5. Start crafting a fool proof history of bat-shit crazy for this woman. Counterfeit documents illustrating much time spent strapped down to a bed with a cup affixed to her face to catch the drool. Sometimes the only defense is INSANITY.

4. Try to find some solid proof that Ashton Kutcher really did cheat on Demi Moore. Use it as a bargaining chip to blackmail the actor into testifying that this was all a poorly planned revamp of his former hit show, "Punk'd".

3. When in doubt, send her to rehab. She obviously took an overdose of her heinous bitch pills.... There's treatment for that, right?

2. Aliens. She was abducted by aliens and the person who committed these acts, were not people, they were pod people from the Planet Dickhead.

1. Draw a mustache on her, teach her to speak with a German accent, put her in jodhpurs and rinding boots and arm her with a riding crop....Godwin's Law: Everything on the internet will eventually disintegrate into an argument about Nazis.....Why should this fine piece of class be spared the comparison?

THEME SONG FRIDAY!

There is something new on the horizon but I can't really put a finger on what it is or what it means.The only thing that I am sure of is that I am uncomfortably wrapped in a blanket of nostalgia these days.

I have ghosts.

What I do know, is that many things are over, but not finished. That I'm gliding into the future, but still stealing waltzes with the past; dancing with the dead and wondering when it all became so fluid, yet complicated? When did the days start to flow by with nary an acknowledgement nor really a realization that they were over? Instead of looking back at the details, the details have all been lumped into a week of facts and now, I'm old, but it is the same as it ever was?

What the fuck? When did I stop caring? When did I stop being present? How did I get here?

The Fat Lady Sing-ith.

Those little birdies have big mouths and now I know it is truly over. It's been "over" for many years, but after this weekend, it will be over. No going back. Not that we want to.

I remember when Van Halen Jumped and you were my best friend. I remember flying cats, electrocutions from the beyond intended to save the one with an exoskeleton. I remember the weddings and the funerals, oh those funerals! with shots of whiskey at 10:00am. The loud and the laughter and how I broke into tears.

I remember wanting to be the piece that fit into your puzzle and the lengths I went to in order to contort myself to fit... Squeezing into that corner spot, but missing one tiny angle, and though it looked just right, it didn't fit... It wasn't right and it wasn't comfortable. It broke my heart and then it hardened it.

My hardened heart didn't want to accept the truth. My hardened heart put all of the blame on you, when it was me who wasn't being honest. My hardened heart longed to be that girl. The girl who wanted the same things you wanted, but she just didn't exist, not within the confines of my hardened heart. My hardened heart went on a campaign to disregard your tender heart. To destroy the tender heart. To make your heart as hardened as itself.

My hardened heart was a complete asshole.

I'm so sorry.

In a few days, it will truly be over. In a few days the rest of your life begins. In a few days you will know such great joy, that thinking about it, warms my hardened heart. I'm so very happy for you and so very envious of the joy that will be brought into your life, for I always wanted to be that person... but I just wasn't.

May you experience all of the happiness and joy that this life has to offer you. You will always be in my thoughts and prayers and I will always have love for you.

Congratulations, from the bottom of my now softer, heart.

Duties

I'm still here, don't you worry. I have a job, which impedes my ability to blog nonsense for all the live-long day.

In the meantime, my crush on Ralph Macchio has been restored.

Wax On, F*ck Off with Ralph Macchio from Ralph Macchio

We Don't Need Another Hero.

Sure we do!

I only have a minute, but I wanted to jot down a quick list of women who have inspired me this week.

1. My main muse, Crystal Huff.

2. Tonya.

3. KimberLEE

4. TRACKER! YOU GO GIRL!

5. Blue Velvet, as always! LOVE YOU!

6. QUEEN OF CLASS: NeNe LEAKES!


Keep it real, bitches!

THEME SONG FRIDAY!

It is going to be one hell of a weekend in the Nasti! MOTR is open for MPMF, it's my bestie's 35th birthday, the weather is cooling down..... BRING IT!

In the meantime? Office work.

Listless Mondays: Kicking the Bucket List.

Don't you just love fads? Little explosions of popularity, all created to make whoever the evil genius was that thought of them, very wealthy as they drain your pockets of disposable income. Pet rocks, Garbage Pail Kids, those stupid virtual pets, Silly Bandz..... The list is long and extensive. At first glance, one would think that fads were for the amusement of children and adolescents, as adults are way too practical to waste their precious time on such ridiculous endeavors. However, you would be wrong.

The fad du-jour in the "thirty-something" female set is the "life list", or "bucket list". A lengthy inventory of everything you must accomplish before you die, or else suffer eternity as a ghostly haunt in the dance studio you and your husband kept meaning to take Tango lessons in, but could never find the time or justify the expense. DO IT NOW OR DIE A MERE SHELL OF THE WOMAN YOU COULD HAVE BEEN IF YOU JUST WOULD HAVE TAKEN THE TIME TO EMBRACE LIFE, SLACKER. Because what the women of our society really need is added pressure and stress by way of life enhancing marketing schemes.

Not to be left out in the cold merely scrutinizing my contemporaries, I have at long last, compiled my bucket list.


THINGS TO DO BEFORE I INEVITABLY GET CANCER AND CROAK.

1. Harness the power to set things ablaze with my mind.

2. Start a Senior Citizen Break Dancing Troupe called the "Get Stale Crew."

3. Knit a cod-piece for Gene Simmons.

4. Win a three-legged race by cheating... I don't know how yet, but I'm working on it.

5. Compile a book of insults called "Velveeta for the Soul".

6. Teach a child how to pick pocket without getting caught. Just a little something to give back.

7. Short-change a blind counter clerk.

8. See what women and horses really do in Tuijuana.

9. Box a kangaroo.

10. Successfully disguise myself as a very important dignitary and prank call Sarah Palin. That should be easy enough.

THEME SONG FRIDAY!

I am so busy right now, that I'm surprised I have the time to post this! I know, I have a life outside of the internet! Who knew?

I kick ass, I then take numbers.

THEME SONG FRIDAY!

So, I've had a pretty shitty, rough, awful, very bad week.


That is all.

THEME SONG FRIDAY!

Today, 'm going to see my family on Devil's Lake in Michigan! It's my first visit this crazy summer and I have missed the Lake! It's also been a crazy, crazy week trying to get the MOTR Pub ready for opening and work from home.... I just cannot believe it is Friday already! I need some serious skin lotion to combat the dryness from all of the chemicals I've been shoving my hands into. Anyhoodle, I'm stoked to have two Michigan weekends in a row. What's your song?

THEME SONG FRIDAY!

I miss my friend Sheyanne. She lives in LA now and is all fancy and has a beautiful niece. She nad I used to throw this jizam on and roll in my '89 LeBaron like the true gangstas we were... Ahhh, zee 90's.




What are you listening to?

Listless Mondays: TEN WAYS TO ENTERTAIN YOURSELF WHILST COUCH-BOUND WITH SPRAINED/FRACTURED FOOT

This past Thursday, I walked down our walkway while wearing flip flops and took a tumble down one of the steps that was broken (it's fixed, NOW). As a result, I sprained my ankle and suffered a hairline fracture on some weird foot bone, the one of oh so many with more than four syllables in its name that I cannot possibly be expected to remember. Needless to say, my weekend consisted of me sitting on my ass while soaking my foot in the iciest of ice water, then wrapping it in a heating pad.. Rinse. Repeat. It was pretty fucking boring, so I had to come up with clever ways to keep myself entertained.

10. Compile a list as to why the genius behind this piece of crap concept should be tarred and feathered. Seriously, that ALMOST killed me by way of shame by proxy. I wish unfunny people would stick to what they do best, being unfunny and over sharing about their children on their blogs. That was fucking embarrassing.

09. Break out your Lil'Honey's recording devices and prank call people (*67BIOTCHES), asking them if their refrigerator is running while doing your best Usher impression with the AutoTune feature. Don't forget to ask them if "they feelin' you".

08. Abuse the prescription painkillers your doctor prescribed you and try to write some poetry... You won't get past "there once was a man from Nantucket".

07. PORN.

06. Experiment with Kiss makeup.... It's definitely more fun to do all hopped up on painkillers, watching Detroit Rock City than being at a blogger convention all hopped up on vagina fumes and "LIVING YOUR BEST LIFE".

05. Don't watch the Runaways. Listening to Coraline trying to sing Cherie Curie will bruise your soul. It will. A piece of my misspent youth died watching that flaming bag of dog shit. Also, Robin Robins? Give me a fucking break! You cannot mesh the greatness of Micki Steele, Jackie Fox, Vickie Blue and co. into one amalgamated character! Also, who did Lita Ford piss off to be portrayed so viciously? She only wants to rock, y'all.

04. Watch Flashdance instead and sing along with Irene Cara at the top of your lungs.

03. Start writing your manifesto. Begin it with "There once was a man from Nantucket."

02. Paint the dog's toenails.

01. Text your friends during one of the best rock shows of the year at your favorite bar, telling them how lame that band is and watching your Dynasty DvD set is way cooler, and if they were truly your friends, they would leave the rock show event of the year, pick up some to-go sushi, and keep you company on the big comfy couch. Sigh uncontrollably when your friends text you back, laughing in your face.