and Their Numerous Emails.


I would like to start by saying I love your stuff, I have a ton of it because I use it.

But I need to vent.

I get sometimes 5 or 6 emails from you a day advertising some sale, or sometimes the same sale or some kind of promotion. It’s overkill.

I have been in advertising for my entire career, and I can tell you that you are turning people off. People like me. Who spend sizable amounts of money in your stores. I don’t want to unsubscribe because if you are a quality company (which I assume that you are) you probably look at those unsubscribe rates, and frankly, I don’t want to hurt your feelings (or the feelings of those in your marketing department). Well, really, because I don’t want to totally be cutoff, even though I don’t read most of them, but I would like maybe one a day, mid-day so it doesn’t get deleted in my morning “I hate everything” rant between the time of getting out of bed and my coffee brewing.

So I am proposing that you revise your strategy and know that more is not more, less is more. Like makeup and body fat. Perhaps you would like to use that in your campaign. “Buy now! You need more of our stuff but you need to put the cupcake down!” or “We don’t sell makeup so you don’t have to look like a hooker anymore! 30% off!” Or better yet “We only like to sell stuff to people who tolerate our outstanding marketing department! We validate our work by pissing you off! Buy 3 get 3 Free!”

Some concluding thoughts:

Nice work with the moving gifs, I would go as far as to call them tasteful. Yes, gif and tasteful do not belong in the same sentence, but what can you do? My focus for the day is waning.

Can we agree to bring the emails from 6 daily to like 3 daily? One overnight, one mid-day, and one around 4:30. I say 4:30 because thats when people are winding down for the day and start farting around on the internet, hence they will probably buy more. Ta da! see how that works?

In stores, your sales associates are so nice. But the bags are so big. I know why this is, but if I need to buy three things, and I only have two hands (except for the times that I have 3 hands), what do I do? Frankly my willpower beats the shit out of these mommy bloggers who actually read your banal and oppressing emails, I just need a little bag. A baglett. A mini bag.

Yours very truly,


“Have fun in class”

I hate this saying, or rather; I would call it a phrase.  It’s not even a saying.  Its like saying “lunch was good” is a saying.  “Have fun in class” will never be a saying because it’s fucking stupid. It will never be allowed to have the moniker of a saying because it needs to be banished.

They say it because they have nothing else to add to the conversation.  They could say “cool” and it would have the same impact. It’s kind of like me texting someone and being like “Hey, my dog died” and they could be like “cool”, and it would have the same affect as “have fun in class.”  Its stupid and pointless and adds nothing to my day other than you acknowledging that I have to go to class at that specific moment.  If I tell you that I have to go to class thus why I am leaving our conversation you could say something constructive like “learn something”, still a waste of air, but at least more constructive.  Or, you could say nothing at all. example: “Hey, that sounds good, I have to go to class now, so I will talk to you after”.  and then you say “…” Nothing.  Nothing at all.  That would be an appropriate response to me telling you that I have to go.

Other phrases that are not acceptable when a conversation is ending: “LOL”, “Ok”, “Sounds Good”, “:)”.

Who says it?  People who are not in school, or even, not in your class.  Not once have I ever said to a fellow classmate after a rousing 50-minute power point enhanced lecture “was that good for you?” never.  Because it’s stupid. People who tell me to have fun in class have never taken an 8:00 in the morning survey of the anatomy of the brain by, quite possibly, the driest man alive.  I can guarantee it.  He told maybe one not-material-based joke the entire semester, and even then it was kind of about it. All I want at 8am is to not have pants on.  In no way, is that fun. So you know what, all of you, fuck you.

Maybe because in a 9am class about defining what exactly it means to study English at a university level, I’m not drunk.  Nor am I in the process of getting drunk.  Maybe I should put some vodka in my $4 vitamin water. Perhaps then, and only then, will the phrase “have fun in class” ring true.


The time Mimi bought me a bra

I love my grandmother dearly. And every summer we would drive, not fly, drive from Minneapolis to New Jersey to see Mim’s and my aunts. While in New Jersey, we would drive out to Staten Island and get to listen to the time that my dad laid pavers (I have heard this story so much, I feel like I was there) in front of the house he grew up in and we would eat at a diner but we were only allowed to drink water because “its the best water in the country”.  I am assuming because its Staten Island and its been treated so much in order to make it drinkable. We would see the Aunts and Uncle Sal.  The Aunts, all 4 of them, lived in the same house for years, none of them every married and when you’re italian, if you dont get married off, you will live with family for the rest of your life.

From the ages of 6-18, we did this every summer and it always coincided with my birthday.  So nobody sent things in the mail like normal people but each and every one of my family members took me shopping.  Separately. My Mimi is 81 years old, she still thinks it 1984 and that “dungarees” should be pleated.

We never saw eye-to-eye on fashion.  Of course my mother was not invited on these shopping trips because she would be the voice of reason and I am pretty sure Mimi blamed her for me dressing like “a ragamuffin”.

At 14 we’re off to Macy’s.  Me and Mimi. I thought that I could get past this shopping trip this year by telling Mimi all I wanted was a bra for my birthday.  I think the conversation went like this:

Mimi: What do you want to get at the mall this year for your birthday?
Me: You know Mimi, all i really need this year is a bra.  Can we just do that?
Mimi: A BRA?! (pronounced brar)
Me: Yeah, you know, thats it really, I’m set for school clothes this year
Mimi: Well, if thats what you want for your birthday…A BRA…we can get that

My Nana worked in the Foundations Department in Macy’s for most of her adult life, so I figured the Macy’s underwear department in 1998 is a place Mimi would feel comfortable in.

We walk into the department and I quickly pick up the pace spotting my normal brand, grabbing my normal size and then she catches up to me. “Well…this one is very sheer, what about this Bali one over here?”. Let me tell you something about the bra she was proposing.  It made your boobs look like that cone thing Madonna wore years ago.  Torpedos. I would have torpedos under my sweater.

In order to not cause a scene, I agreed to try it on. I grabbed a few more to make it a real shopping experience, not just an errand, and i beelined to the dressing room.

I was closing the door.

and Mimi was behind me.

So now its just me, and my grandmother, in the Macy’s dressing room in the underwear department.

“Well aren’t you going to try them on?”

Look, at 14, I had the bra thing down. I had been wearing them for awhile, I knew what fit, I knew my size, I had a brand.

She starts taking off my shirt.  Oddly, this is also how i lost my virginity. For another time.

There was screeching and shrieking.

She agreed to wait outside while i tried them on and then she would come in and “check the fit”.

She agreed it fit. I quickly put my clothes back on and wouldn’t make eye contact with anyone the rest of the day. I had been violated.  However, before it was all said and done, she said that I couldn’t just get 2 white bras, they needed to be beige. This life event has scared me to the point that I will never buy a beige bra in my adult life.

Now that I’m an adult and she knows that I have the bra thing down, she sends me tablecloths. I have more tablecloths than I know what to do with.

iCloud and Me

Fuck you iCloud, hard
Today you made me cry, sads
I hate you, iCloud

You try to run me
But you don’t know me at all
Get out of my head

My computer is sad
Because of you and your shit
So is my iPad

Updates, oh, updates
You take me all fucking day
You hurt my feelings

You make me throw things
And say mean things to the dogs
iCloud, I hate you

Listening? No way!
Apple is responsible
This is Steve Jobs’ doing

I didn’t invite you
Perhaps, you should be in beta
No training for me

Stop running my life
I like downloading things twice
I am controlling

Top 5 Reasons Not to Drink Wine on Percocet

In light of my recent medical…bullshit, I have been prescribed percocet. Now, if you all remember, I used to love Percocet. And Vicodin. And Darvocet. And Percodan. I digress.

One thing I never did was drink on narcotics. You may recall some fan favorites where I did an in depth analysis of Xanax or a little poem I wrote about Ambien.  But I never drank on narcotics and you shouldn’t either and here’s a list of reasons why:

  1. You’re not Whitney Houston.  You do not have a singing career to fall back on when you get over this whole “I want to get fucked up on Percocet and Vodka” thing.
  2. You have a pancreas. Do you know what your pancreas does? It helps regulate the insulin in your body.  Do you know what alcohol is?  Thats right dumbass, its sugar. So what do you think happens when you have a bum pancreas from drinking too much and a stomach full of pain killers?  They react and you get very sick.
  3. You have a liver, your liver is like a wasteland for all the shit your body doesn’t know what to do with, so all that Tylenol you took when you were 16 when you were trying to “kill yourself” (yes, you fit this demographic, does that hit a little too close to home for you, reader?) wound up in your liver and it damaged it.  All those nights you wanted to get “SUUUUUPER FUUUUUCKED UUUPPP” on washington apple shots and Bud Light? Yep, that messed up your liver too.  And now, here you are, in your 20’s, googling if you should drink on Vicodin and the answer is no, because it will fuck up your liver.
  4. You should choose how you want to die. And do you really want to die from heart failure or choking on your own vomit?  Come on, go out a little more dramatically.
  5. You should savor your high. Why would you want to waste a kick ass high on being drunk? A narcotics high makes you super productive, go wash your car or mow your lawn.  Stop fucking around on the internet and do something with your life.
    Oh what the hell, heres #6!
  6. What were you prescribed pain killers for?  If you weren’t actually prescribed them then you’re a fucking idiot and you deserve to be in pain one day and not have access to narcotics.

So there you go, 6 reasons why you should not drink on narcotics.

A widower guide for @jaredwsmith

I have had several brushes with death in my house being that I spend most of my time home alone, so I got to thinking, what would happen if i died? There would be a period of grief followed by a period of celebration of the new-found freedom that Jared will have but then what?  So I have created a guide for doting husband in the event of my passing.

My darling Jared, if you are reading this, it is because I have inevitably met my demise. It was probably getting the pasta dryer down from over the cabinets and I lost my balance on the step ladder the landlord left us and i hit my head on the island and bled to death on the kitchen floor. I could have waited for you to come home but then we would have eaten dinner at midnight and you know how I feel about that.

So I have taken the liberty of putting together a brief guide for you after you have put your life back together.  Well, you dont have to worry about being woken up my Little Debbie wrappers anymore. I just want to be clear, your new lady friend is a guest in my house.

A few notes I just want to touch on:

  • Maggie has won the battle but I have won the war
  • Go get my clothes from the garage and put them back in the closet
  • Ramen is not a meal
  • Do not put a fountain in the front yard unless you join the mob
  • Just because you take a shower in the shower doesn’t mean it is clean
  • Continue recording Sister Wives and Project Runway
  • It is not up to the dogs to take care of the wild animals in the yard, that’s your job
  • Do not let your new wife in my kitchen
  • If the fridge smells you are going to have to clean it, the fridge will win
  • Do not ever cook Rice-A-Roni
  • Water my trees, even if you think its going to rain, water them
  • Stop putting things in the garage, nothing good will come of that
  • Don’t bother renewing my gym membership
  • If you notice your date sneaking a bottle of water into a movie theater you need to demand her plan for when she gets caught
  • The mop is in the garage
  • You have my permission to slap your new lady if she ever talks about me



The Imported Cheese Section at Publix

An open letter to the cunt at the imported cheese cooler at the Main Road Public at 5:00pm today:

I know its super fun to go grocery shopping with your “hubby” on a Saturday afternoon.  I am sure you spent today watching football and “OMG SPENT ALL DAY CLEANING” and updating your Facebook profile with pictures of your 18 month old.

I know, shopping is SUCH A CHORE! But you know what, you self-centered piece of white trash, I kind of enjoy it.

Judging by what you had in your cart, you clearly don’t shop often. You had produce in your cart but you have to go through the deli and imported cheese to get to produce, so you are going through the store backwards. You are truly inefficient.

I know bleu cheese is “stinky” and that “gu-y-ee-r” is unheard of in the parts of Georgia you hail from but that jarlsberg is supposed to be DELISH because they mentioned it in The Devil Wears Prada. Don’t forget to hit up the wine section, because god knows the only way your husband can imagine ever having sex with you anymore is when he’s drunk because all you wear is sweatpants in public.

So when you are done interrupting my day at the imported cheese section, go block the asiles while deciding which soup to bring for lunch because after all there are 5 days in a work week which means there are 5 opportunities to bring 5 different types of soup. Mind. Blown.

I hope your shopping experience was truly pleasurable.


Publix Patrons


Politics According to @scoccaro

So I don’t know a lot about politics.  Ok, so I only know what @jaredwsmith tells me 10 days after it happens and @lemursmanlemurs is still ranting about it on twitter so I ask him.

So I felt that I needed to post about politics in light of the upcoming election that I wont vote at because lets be honest, I think that if you don’t know shit about politics, like myself, you shouldn’t be allowed to vote. Kind of like child rearing, if you don’t know anything about them, you shouldn’t be allowed to have them.  I feel like that would stop teen pregnancy and put an end to the Maury show and Teen Mom, which would be a damn same.  I digress.

So here are my bullet points:

  • If it’s not in your body, you’re not allowed to have an opinion on it.
  • If you’re not directly affected by it, you’re not allowed to have an opinion on it.
  • Health care is mandatory, so be healthy and shut the fuck up, its for your own good.
  • Shut the fuck up about religion, if you want to fucking pray, let your freak flag fly but dont be a jackass.  I’m pretty sure everybody is sick of the same religion argument.  How do I vote on that? Who cares less about religion?
  • Put money into schools equally. I’m not sure how I vote on that, maybe I just need to write a letter on that.
  • As for taxes? Vote for whoever will put more money back into small businesses because thats who keeps communities running. It keeps my house running anyway. And thats who I would vote for if I could ever figure out how to vote.
  • The death penalty is cool if you fucked up a lot of people and killed them, but you should die in a humane way even if you didn’t kill those people in a humane way even though it makes you a huge asshole.
  • We should be investing in green energy because we suck and we fucked up a non-renewable source and we are going to pay for it.
  • lets make pot legal for crying out loud.  Its legal to fuck a horse but not to catch a buzz. Its legal to drive “kind of drunk” but you can’t smoke a bowl in the privacy of your own home. It’s legal to marry your fucking cousin but you can’t grow pot to manage your nausea from chemo when nothing else works and you dont want to put more chemicals in your body.
  • Welfare…keep it around, some people its their only lifeline. its how they keep food on the table.  Some people milk the system, thats how it is with everything.  so be it, there are some people who really need it though so you can’t get rid of it.

I took a government class in high school and we had to analyze our stance and mine was “I am a 16 year girl with a 50 year old mans opinion on politics” meaning I was a republican. I blame my parents being from an upscale neighborhood and never wanting for anything i believe made me a young republican and possibly made it so that I never wanted anything to change.  I never needed anything to change.

Churchill said that if you are not a liberal by the time you are 25 you have no heart and if you are not a republican by the time you are 35 you have no brain. Well I’m 28, and I’m neither.  So I guess that means I am the tinman.

Let’s mess around with gender roles.

Apparently Real Simple didn’t survey this house because I sure as hell don’t have decorating on my list of “to do’s” everyday.

I just think it’s sad that the sample of women that they polled have good-for-nothing husband’s who won’t help with out around the house with cooking, cleaning, laundry, grocery shopping or with their children.


I’m bipolar. manic depressive. crazy.

Well, I’m not just bipolar, to be more specific, I am bipolar I with rapid cycling, OCD and acutely agoraphobic. I take a stupid amount of pills everyday, I pay a very nice woman every week to talk to me about the stupid shit I have done and I pay another very nice woman every month to write me prescriptions for drugs that have side effects like your eyes rolling back in your head and getting stuck, irreversible rashes, hair loss, weight gain, tremor and liver failure — those are just the funnest ones.

You may remember a time when I was a lot more fun than I am now. I only remember parts of those times because most of the time I was blacked out.

I abuse alcohol and drugs, I have put my family and friends through hell and yet people still want to judge me.

I’m not unemployed, I’m not on disability.  When I had a job in a “normal” work setting, my illness never made me miss a day. I pay my taxes, walk my dogs, enjoy shopping, and enjoy cooking. I don’t run down the street in my underwear flailing dirty needles, I don’t fake pregnancies to trap men and I don’t belong in an institution.

Mental illness is not something that can be helped but there are things that you can do to treat the symptoms, which is all I do.

So thats that, take from it what you will but be careful with your words, when I am lucid, they hurt.