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‘Merica: Land of Ridiculous Problems

21 Jan

Funny Bitch Friday will be back tomorrow.

We need to have a talk.

Ma’am, you fell into a fountain. You were uninjured. You were embarrassed, sure, but you were unhurt. Some mall security should probably be fired for leaking it to YouTube, yes, but to sue the mall?

Why? Why sue them? Because no one came to your aid? You fell in a fountain and then stood right back up again like nothing happened, and walked away. I wouldn’t have addressed it because I would figure you’d want to leave well enough alone. You just made an ass out of yourself.

Had I been you, I might have laughed at myself, and not gone to the news bitching.

This teacher has been placed on leave for going to the police about a very violent student after parents and school officials did nothing. She was placed on leave for violating the student’s privacy rights.

These kids were 7-years-old, being faced with a classmate threatening violence–including bringing a gun to school.

7-years-old.

This cop was suspended when he wrote a ticket to a 7-year-old boy when the boy threw a ball at his truck and hit it, in an effort to have the child’s mom discipline him for what he did.

When I was a kid, I threw rocks at a neighbor’s window and broke it, so my mom took me to the sheriff’s office. He scared the hell out of me. I worked off the money I needed to buy them a new window. I turned out to be a good kid.

What in the shit is going on with this country?

We’re complaining about problems that other people would DREAM to have.

Other people in the world have to worry whether or not their government will kill them that day. Or if they have enough food to feed their children though they haven’t eaten in days. There are places in the world with terribly unsafe drinking water, food, and living conditions.

People are being washed away by mudslides in Brazil, watching their families die right before their eyes.

Children are being sold into slavery everywhere.

My in-laws had to escape their own country. They lived in a refugee camp in Greece for 4 years. They had a 2 year old at the time, and hot water once a week. Some of their friends still fear the KGB.

Your problems are not that bad. You were texting and fell of your own volition, not killed or maimed by a drunk driver.

The teacher stopped violence the only way she knew how, and probably averted a major disaster and allowed a child to gain access to the mental health help he or she desperately needed. Let us not forget a 9-year-old girl was killed recently after a man who needed that help did not get it.

The officer was teaching a child about the law, and safety after he was given no option but to do so.

America? Grow the fuck up. Look at what you have, and be grateful.

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Love in the time of Zombie

17 Nov

Last night, while watching The Walking Dead.

Me: “If there were an outbreak of Zombie, I would drive down to pick up your parents, then down on to my sisters to pick up her and Damon, then up to Ma and Leo.”

Adrian: “That’d be a good crew.”

Me: “I mean, your parents are survivors. People who escape from communism know how to fucking do it. Grace can cook, and farm, and raise animals, Damon can hunt. Ma is a nurse, and Leo has more guns than West Point.”

Adrian: “All valid reasons.”

Me: “But that leaves us. We’re useless in the Apocalypse.”

Adrian: “Mmh.”

Me: “I can…um…I don’t know. I guess that Grace will be busy with the, you know, sustenance, so I can do laundry or something. Someone has to cook the food.”

Adrian: “See, you’re useful.”

Me: “And you’re the driver.”

Adrian: “Naturally. You’ve really thought this out.”

Me: “You have to be prepared. Know what you’ll grab and where you’ll go.”

Adrian: “Glad you have.”

Me: “But we’ll have to take my car…I’m the one with four wheel drive–”

Adrian: “While that’s a good idea, you have to remember that you’ll always need a backup. My car is fast for a reason. We’ll take our cell phones, because the satellites will still be active, and we both have car chargers. Your car is large enough and powerful enough to haul all of the people, and a trailer for the animals and all the gear. Damon and I will go ahead in my car and scout. We’ll call you if it’s clear. If it’s not, I know how to kill–I mean, I haven’t spent 20 years in martial arts for nothing–and Damon knows how to shoot. Your car is also tough enough to drive over terrain, but you’ll need me to clear the way or gather supplies quickly.”

Me: “…………………………………..Thought that out, have you?”

Adrian: “Always be prepared.”

I love you, Adrian. I wouldn’t go through the Zombie Apocalypse with anyone but you.

I almost died.

21 Oct

Adrian’s birthday was Friday. As with everything else I do, I go WAY over the top on his birthday presents.

Last year, he raced Corvettes at a racetrack.

This year, I got him a flying lesson, because I’m a fucking masochist.

I trust Adrian a lot. He’s an excellent driver, and has always wanted to learn to fly and to be a pilot. But when my ass is soaring 2,000 feet in the air, I trust no one.

This is what came up from a Google Images search of, "No Trust."

Here’s how the booking went down.

“So I’ve got you down for Friday. Now, the plane is a four-seater. That means a couple more people could come with Adrian on the flight. Anyone you’d like to bring?” says the Flight Instructor who sounds a little too much like Pauly Shore.

“Sure. I know his Dad would like to go, and, I’ll go, too.”

“Fantastic! I know you’ll love it.”

Not likely, Pauly. I fucking hate flying.

Not Ok.

Well, that’s not totally true. The part where we’re just in the air at cruising altitude and there is no turbulence is not that bad. But I white-knuckle take-off and landing. Can’t stand that shit. People have tried to tell me, “The pilot wants to be in the air as much as you. It’s his job.”

Let me ask you this in response to that–you know that person at your job who you know is going to snap at any moment and jab a letter opener into your boss’ lung before he takes out the rest of you?

What if he were flying your plane? Yeah. Think of that. Then cry. I am.

Air BP. We're all gonna die.

So anyway.

Adrian and his Dad are equally excited to get in this tiny ass plane and jet away into the Dallas skyline. I have my, “No, really, I’m totally fine, ” face on.

They promised a ‘ground school’ on the website, which consisted of us sitting in the plane while Pauly Shore removed the NASCAR sun visor from the windshield, and told Adrian how to Fly in about 5 minutes.

Not kidding. See the Visors?

These are the first few impressions I have of this ordeal, and we’re still on the ground. Pauly looks over to Adrian and says, “okay, man, I want you to Taxi this plane to the end of the runway.”

The second Adrian started to taxi, I KNEW we were all gonna die.

This is how Adrian Taxied the plane.

We get to the end of the runway, ready to take off, and a very, very loud alarm goes off.

Jesus, I’mma commin’ home.

Pauly: “Don’t be worried about that alarm there. We always run the engines out of gas after we park the planes.”

Dad: “As long as it’s not the stall alarm.” (even as I type this, I can still hear his heavy accent)

Pauly: “My headset’s pretty noise cancelling. I couldn’t hear it even if it did go off.”

You know what, Pauly? We haven’t even left the ground, you son of a bitch.

So Pauly takes off, and then, no foolin’, tells Adrian, “Alright Man, the rest is you. Let’s turn right here.”

The right wing dips into what can only be described as a WWII barrel roll scenario, and MOTHER OF MARY AND JOSEPH I AM GOING TO DIE IN THE BACK OF THIS DAMN PLANE. Not fucking okay. I’m laughing, but only from sheer terror and lack of other options from what I could be doing, seeing as how no one gave me a parachute and the NASCAR sun visor ain’t gonna cut it.

To give Adrian and Pauly some credit, Adrian is actually really good at flying a plane, apparently. After the first 3 agonizingly terrifying minutes of my certain death in the Trinity River, Adrian smoothed it out and was pretty damn good.

Pauly: “So, Noa, what kind of music do you listen to?”

Me: I’m wondering if this dude is hitting on me. “Almost anything.” *terrified FUCK YOU I’M OKAY smile*

Pauly: “We’ll listen to some music.”

Y’all, the radio IMMEDIATELY begins playing The Final Countdown. I couldn’t stop laughing. What a fantastically ironic song to come over the Sirius radio on a plane.

And then I chilled out.

And then I realized why Adrian wanted to fly a small plane for so long.

Sir, your pool is a wang.

And then, the tower almost ran us into a jet on landing.

Tower: “Um, I don’t know, just circle around again. Whatever. I don’t even know. Just get out of the way.” (again, NOT SHITTING YOU)

Pauly: “That guy gets flustered a lot. He needs to chill out.”

Yeah, Noa to Tower–chill the fuck out, homes. Landing jets full of people should require some attention.

Fucking Up Your Love Life (Part 2!)

6 Sep

Dear Cosmo:

I relish in your content for the Woman-About-Town. You really have your paper-sliced fingers on the pulse of the 20-something woman today. Sex, fashion, and fun–you have it all!

However, I feel like your how-to-meet-men columns could use some sprucing up. Your tips may have worked for a while, but today’s woman needs new tips and tricks! Men have caught on, and are less and less likely to slam a penis (and their wallets!) into any old whore.

I have included here some tips that have worked well for me! Hope they work for your readers.


1. Quote His Favorite Movie!

Every man likes movies, but more than that, every man loves porn. Anyone can start a conversation with quotes from The Hangover, but you can really have his heart if you can recall his favorite porno.

Try these today!

“Do you think a football will fit?”

“I think you have a fatal case of…dickarousia.”

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.”

And my favorite, “Turn over and brace yourself.”


2. Flirt Like A Kid Again!

Remember in 5th grade when Bobby Jones punched you in the tit and then you were his girlfriend? Bring back the good old days again, with a twist! Turn the tables next time at the bar, and as you order your drink, punch the nearest hottie right in the dick.

Does he flinch? He’s YOURS!


3. Give ‘Em The Old Razzle Dazzle

Spot a hottie on the morning commute? BAM! He never expected a face full of pepper and confetti (or his bride-to-be!)

Those are tears of joy, girl.


4. Be Up Front About It

No one likes a girl that likes to play games. Be as up front as possible.

“Hey there sexy. I’ve got the clap and $267,000 worth of debt. I’m on Team Edward, and think Twilight’s the greatest love story ever told. Oprah is my God, and my cats hear my thoughts.”

Guys love a gal who can be honest about who she really is.


5. Be His Crying Shoulder

Your local funeral parlor and cemetery is full of singles! He’s going to need a gal now that MeMaw is gone.

Black at a funeral is so last year; make sure to wear something bright and sexy so he knows you’re single and ready to mingle.


Girls today need all the help they can get–especially concerning the covert affairs of the heart!


Sincerely,

Noa Gavin, Man-Getting Extraordinaire.

Cosmo: Fucking Up Your Love Life (Part 1.)

23 Aug

I. Adore. Cosmopolitan Magazine.

True Story.

Perhaps it’s the way that they appeal to everyone’s wholesome side with their WAYS TO PICK UP DUDES, or the simple style they keep with the look of the magazine, using HOW MANY BRIGHT COLORS AND HORRIBLE TYPOGRAPHY EXAMPLES CAN WE USE, or the way they use their investigative journalism skills to bring you 100 SEX TIPS THAT WE’VE USED SINCE ’66.

Peruse their website once a month. See if you can see what I see–THE SAME DAMN SHIT. It’s terrible advice, and for the life of me, I can’t find an adult woman who’s successful in life and love who reads that drivel.

But this one–this lovely little slideshow really does it for me. While I realize that there is a good market out there for people who really do want and need to know how to meet people, their advice is soundly…awful.

Admittedly, a couple of their ideas are not bad–complimenting a man on a piece of clothing, mistaking him for someone else, scoping his wingman for the assist, but out of 21, that’s 3. For fuck’s sake Cosmo. For fuck’s sake.

Let’s take a journey into the mind of Cosmo Girls everywhere, and learn, HOW TO MEET A MAN!

1. Join His Cheering Section

Hit a sports bar the next time a game is on. Wear a tee with the logo of the team you’re cheering for, and sit near a guy rooting for the same team. You can connect over your shared fandom.
The problem with this suggestion is that it is aimed at the “Cosmo Girl,” who, if I can judge readership based on their willingness to read articles titled “VAJAYJAY-SCAPING,” isn’t too aware of the sports world.
Imagined Scenario: Girl sits next to Hot-tay wearing Cowboys jersey. Hot-tay instantly locks eyes with her, smitten by her shared love of sports. They marry. Oh, he’s also rich.
Reality: Girl sits next to good-looking Cowboys fan. Fan notices her boobs, and that her boobs are covered with the Cowboys Star. Fan hopes that girl truly shares a love of football. They date, and a few months down the road, she reveals her hatred of sports of any kind, and tells him to “TURN THAT SHIT OFF AND PAY ATTENTION TO ME.” Fan is miserable, girl is miserable, and relationship is based on a lie.
2. Add Him to Your Photo Album
Ask a hot guy to take a photo while you’re out with friends. After he shoots, suggest he jump in. Look over the photos together, and get his e-mail address so you can send him the pictures.
That’s the weirdest shit I have ever heard. Ever.
Imagined Scenario: Hot-tay takes photo of you, and then takes a photo of his number on the sly. You look at the photos together, and it’s adorable. He laughs, you laugh. You get married, and he’s rich.
Reality: If he doesn’t steal your camera? First, your friends are going to be weirded out by the weird dude taking pictures with you (because your friend now has to take the picture). You’re trying to be cute and coy, but in reality, offering to send him the pictures of you (a stranger) and him (a stranger) comes off as–stalkery.
3. Invite Him to Escort You
Tell a cutie on the street you’re lost, and ask him how to get somewhere (in the direction he’s heading). Ask if he’d walk you there. Then before saying bye, suggest you thank him with a cup of joe.
Okay, you lying whore.
Imagined Scenario: “My goodness sir, I’m so lost! Can you escort me to Nordstroms?” You get married. He is rich.
Reality: He’ll figure out a ways down the road that you’re a compulsive liar, you lying whore.
4. Make Him Your Target
If you have outdoor plans with friends, take a Nerf football. When a cute guy walks by, throw it at him—just don’t peg him in the head. When he brings it over, ask him to join the game.
Again, I say, that the typical Cosmo Girl is not going to be packing heat with the Nerf football.
Imagined Scenario: He catches it effortlessly, and you giggle as you return the football to your bag. He comments on your throwing arm, and you catch dinner, get married, and OH HE’S RICH, TOO?
Reality: You peg a fucking stranger in the eye with the not-all-the-way-sanded-down seam on the Nerf, which is as sharp as a motherfucking katana sword. He sues you, and your friends will stop bringing you out with them, because  of your bad habit of PEGGING STRANGERS WITH BALLS.
5. Start a Convo Between Spin Cycles
The best thing about a cute guy in a Laundromat? He’s not going anywhere for a good hour. Pretend you’re out of detergent, and ask to borrow a cup. You’ll have a few spin cycles to chat…and find out if he’s a boxers man or a briefs man.
OH HAHA, BOXERS OR BRIEFS? Well, I don’t know, bitch.
Imagined Scenario: You have a romantic encounter a la Forty Days and Forty Nights.
Reality: Do you know how Adrian does laundry? He puts everything together in one cycle and puts some fabric softener in. No lie. So, not only do you look like you’re a forgetful bitch, but you’re stuck using his shithole detergent on your fine clothing. Way to go, whore.
6. Pay Attention to Detail
When it comes to meeting men, it helps to have something specific to talk about. The next time you see a hot dude on the weekend, look for a clue to his personality before starting a conversation. For example, if he’s wearing a NASCAR cap, approach him with “I noticed your hat. Are you into racing?” It’s an opener that seems natural, not contrived. Plus, he’ll feel comfortable around you because you’re talking about something he really gets.
FUCKING NASCAR? NASCAR?
The idea in this is not that it’s a bad idea, per se, it’s that they chose NASCAR. Ladies, If you’re hunting down a hottie at a NASCAR event, here’s a word to the wise–HOPE YOU LIKE PORK RINDS, HO. NASCAR men aren’t known for being those to attract the Cosmo crowd. They could have chosen Titleist (not Titties, spell-check), Jordan Airs, TapOut Shirts, fucking anything. But no. NASCAR.
7. Write Him an I.O.U.
Is it just us or are hot waiters the new men in uniform? Next time you’re out for dinner with your girls, smile and make eye contact with a cute server. When the bill arrives, leave your number on the tip line and write that you owe him a drink.
I was a waitress once upon a time, and you know what? IOU’s in a tip line are a bitch move.
Imagined Scenario: “Wow, this chick is into me, I’ll take her out. Lucky for her, I’ve got a trust fund, and I just serve on the side. I’M RICH.”
Reality: “THE WHORE AT 19 JUST LEFT ME HER NUMBER IN THE TIP LINE. MY GIRLFRIEND IS GOING TO FUCKING KILL ME BECAUSE I CAN’T PAY MY LIGHT BILL AGAIN.”
8. Volunteer Your Time
Studies show that performing altruistic acts can make you more sexually attractive—all the more reason to put on your do-gooder pants. Check out opportunities at volunteeringamerica.gov, and search your zip code to find a place to volunteer (and guy scope) near you. Once you’re there, strike up a convo with a guy by asking how he heard about the organization and if he’s been involved for very long.
Disclaimer: Please do go volunteer, volunteering is good.
I’m going to jump right in.
Imagined Scenario: “Oh, yeah, I volunteer all the time. I also rescue puppies, make millions, and I’m single!”
Reality: “I’m here on work release/court-ordered community service.”
9. Join His Team (Accompanied by picture of two dudes, shirtless, in khakis, touching while playing soccer).
At the beach or park with pals, find a spot near a group of guys playing soccer, Frisbee, or volleyball. After a few minutes, wander over and ask the hottest of the bunch if you can all join in.
Again, not so much on the bad idea side as bad presentation. Go click on the link, and look at this picture. Ladies, if you’re wanting to join in with that group of guys, you better be packing the biggest dick of them all, or bringing your Gay-Pack with you, because those are homosexuals. Unless you are also a homosexual man, you’re picking up the wrong crowd.

Imagined Scenario: Duel between teams to see who gets to date the hot chick. They are all rich.

Reality: Cosmo girl, you probably suck at sports. Joining anyone’s team is not a good plan for you, unless you’re prepared to be sidelined to jump around for the boob-jiggles. Also, THESE MEN PICTURED HERE ARE HOMOSEXUALS.

Disclaimer: There is nothing wrong with homosexuals, but I am highlighting the fact that chicks are probably not going to be able to pick them up.

I’m just sayin’, folks.

Stay tuned for Part 2: Noa’s WAYS TO MEET MEN!