Some of you may remember a post I wrote a while back about my less-than-ideal experience on the Carnival Splendor cruise ship. Well, color me put in my place because it seems that things on the Splendor just got a whole lot worse. I thought I had it bad on my trip because the bagels were sort of stale, but now these poor stranded passengers have no lights! no musical revues! and no buffets! and are being forced to eat Spam, PopTarts and canned crab. All of which means this is probably the only cruise in history where people actually lose weight.
Keep your eyes open for the new “Crippled Cruise Ship Diet!” coming soon to bookstores near you.
(Also: Was I the only one praying to see a Mutiny on the Bounty-type situation develop where rampaging passengers in JC Penney resort-wear took the captain hostage and beat him senseless with travel-sized toothbrushes and moldy drink umbrellas? Hmmmm? I didn’t think so.)
It looks like America’s favorite mach-speed reproducing family is at it again as they’re now expecting another grandchild. Oh, you f*cking Duggars. Please, please stop having more babies. I beg you. As I tweeted earlier today, “If a Duggar got pregnant and The Today show wasn’t there to report it, would they still continue adding to the world’s overpopulation?”
I think the reason the Duggars bother me so much isn’t because they’re fame seekers or because what they’re doing is unfair to their children. No, it’s because I have horrible, recurring nightmares that in 2030, the Duggars and Gosselins will seize control of the House and Senate and our once great nation will be renamed “TLC’s America.”
And just try putting that on a flag.
3. MY HEELS!
I don’t know why, but if I go too long without a pedicure, my heels get rather nasty. Cracked, dry, totally disgusting. My husband sometimes even calls them my “woman hooves.” However, this phenomenon makes absolutely sense to me because it’s not like I’m a barefoot runner or a 90-year-old tap dancer. Nor am I a hillbilly who doesn’t wear shoes when I go break rocks in the granite quarry.
That said, I didn’t think my heels were that bad when I went in to the salon this week, but it seems that my regular pedicure person Miss Cam thought otherwise. After ten minutes of grunting and sweating her way through the filing down of my beast heels, she finally finished, then wiped her brow on a towel and yelled to the room, “Whoo! I needa snack after dat one, lady! That was ROUGH!”
Seriously, Miss Cam? Do I need to pack cookies and a Gatorade for you from now on? Am I a “special needs” mani/pedi customer? Will you be wearing HazMat suit and using a belt sander next time? I AM NOT AN ANIMAL!
4. PEOPLE WHO STARE AT THEIR PHONES SO THEY DON’T HAVE TO TALK TO YOU!
You know who you are.
5. AND FINALLY, TOP 50 LISTS!
It seems that every few months, some website puts out a list of the Top 50 mommy blogs that’s chock full of obscure websites like Dooce.com. This, of course, gets everybody all worked up and full of LIST FEVER! and they then start squawking about it non-stop until the next list comes out and the cycle repeats. Even worse than that, however, is that sometimes the website allows write-ins, so everybody then starts vote grubbing. And to that I say, “Enough! No more! Cease and desist, people! The list doesn’t matter!”
Because here’s the thing: who the fuck cares about these arbitrary lists? Unless you’re getting up on stage and accepting a solid gold award from Sean Connery, then going to a celebratory strip club party with Lil Wayne and his skank brigade, let it go. THERE AIN’T GONE BE A CHAMPAGNE ROOM IN YOUR FUTURE, MAN!
In fact, in my opinion, the only lists anyone should ever try to get on are ones with names like “Non-Suspects,” “Friend of the Band,” or, even better, “Free Bacon Recipients.”
That is, unless you’re a Duggar or Carnival cruise lines. Then I’ve got another very special list that I’m creating just for you. Call me!