Why I’m Destined to be Tina Fey

People tell me I remind them a lot of Liz Lemon (for those of you who don’t know, that’s Tina Fey’s character on 30 Rock). While I pretend to be offended that people compare me to a single, middle-aged woman who eats her feelings, I’m not…I’m not offended at all. In fact, it’s pretty much my crowning glory.
Here is a list of why I will become Tina Fey. Not hope to become, mind you. Will.

1. Her brother is 8 years older than her. My sister is 7 years older than me. In her book, Bossypants, Tina/FutureMe wrote, “my brother has always looked out for me like a third parent.” Laurel treats me that way every day. Not that I don’t love her for it, because I love being taken care of. But sometimes it gets to the point where I want to tell her to just get a pet fish to take care of instead…not that I compare myself to a fish…uh…

My little Midge.

2. “One of my five hundred nicknames for my daughter is Midge, which is short for Midget, because she was a very small baby.” When we first got my cat, Mickey, I wanted to name him Midge so badly. He was the tiniest thing I’d ever seen and I coud practically fit him in my palm. So I still call him Midge, even though he is now the hugest cat on the planet.

3. The woman is a genius, and obviously I am too.
Here are a few random samplings of that genius (hers): “No one ever says, ‘You really, really must deliver the baby during labor.’ When it’s true, it doesn’t need to be said,” and “There’s a drunk midget in my house.”

Just so you can properly compare, here are a few random samplings of my genius: “People will come and go, but sour candy…that stuff’s forever. Literally. I think it’s radioactive,” and “Give a man a fish, and he’ll eat for a day. Give a man a Big Mouth Billy Bass and he’ll regift it to you next Christmas.”

4. She claims that now that she’s 40, she needs to take her pants off as soon as she gets home. “I didn’t used to have to do that,” she writes. “But now I do.” Well, Tina, I already have to do that. I guess I’m just preparing to live your fly, fancy lifestyle before I turn 20.

5. She remembers the pamphlets she got that were about her period. While mine featured really weird cartoons that asked questions such as, “Can I go swimming while on my period?” and “Will I bleed to death if I’m on my period when I get into a knife fight with Mike Tyson?” hers had the “vaguely threatening” title of “Growing Up and Liking It.” She thought her period would come out as a blue liquid like in maxi-pad commercials; I always thought those commercials were a marketing nightmare. As I’ve asked many times before, what twit thinks that I’m gonna want to buy a maxi pad that could double as an umbrella on a rainy day?

I think you can all see that I am exactly like her. And if you can’t see it, maybe get some glasses…or just keep your mouth shut.


What’s a Heezy, Anyway?

I have been awarded the Versatile Blogger Award by the very attractive (I assume) blogger over at Merry Musings and now am absolutely required by law to post random facts about myself etc etc. But hey, I’ve never been one to talk about myself (I know, I can practically hear you scoffing through the internet right now), so who knows what I’ll spit out today.

1. Leighton Meister’s song “Body Control” has recently made me think of “Botty Control” and picture incontinent toddlers.

2. I secretly want to punch people who walk around with their hands in each other’s back pockets. Like, you couldn’t wait for about 10 more minutes to go somewhere private and fondle his butt there? No, apparently not.
So yeah, PDA-ing idiots in the mall. You’re rednecks (probably not). I hate you and your butt-squeezing hands. Watch it, or you might just find my hand in your boyfriend’s pocket. How do you like it now?

3. Outback Steakhouse commercials make me absolutely detest Australian accents. Which is ridiculous, really, as I am pretty much in love with YouTube comedian Natalie Tran, along with standup comedian Adam Hills (he will marry me someday) and they’re both from Australia. I think it’s because the Outback Steakhouse guy ISN’T ACTUALLY AUSTRALIAN. I refuse to believe that he is in any way connected with the real Australian outback, mainly because he sounds like he’s half kangaroo. Oh. Wait…

4. Dogs are aliens. Yeah, I said it. The government didn’t want me to, and if I disappear from bed tonight, you’ll know why. All that barking? Those crazy high-pitched dog whistles? Yeah, that’s how they communicate with their home planet. And when they nuzzle (attack) you? PROBING. THEY’RE FREAKING PROBING YOU.

5. I’m so afraid for my generation. I’m a little worried that we’re gonna start spelling ludicrous “Ludacris” and not know it has an actual definition. And I don’t understand most of these new-fangled words anyway. What’s a heezy? Who are you, Ice Cube? And why did that man just say something about my badonkadonk? Is that some kind of cancer?

6. What the HECK is up with morning people? I didn’t even know 4:30 AM existed until that perky girl over there said that’s when she wakes up.

7. And really, what’s with this new fad of people giving stuff up for Lent? I know it’s been happening for centuries probably, but honestly? People who aren’t even religious do it now, don’t know why they’re doing it, and quit after three days without chocolate. And to those who are religious: it’s like a bad New Year’s resolution only you do it for 40 days and compare yourself to Jesus the whole time.

When I Rule the World

1. Everyone will have a British accent, because it’s so much easier to sound clever that way.

2. Saint Cappy’s day will be a universal holiday. No big deal.

3. No one will ask me if I feel like a plastic bag. Because I do. Sometimes I have to swallow a rock just so I don’t drift away.

4. There will be no more Pirates of the Caribbean sequels. Because really, enough’s enough.

5. Sassy Gay Friend won’t do product placement in his videos. I get that he has to make money. I really do. And the product placement is alway funny, but I don’t want to be advertised to anymore.

6. JK Rowling will write another amazing fantasy series.

7. Physics won’t be so hard.

8. Boring, uninteresting, and angry people will be banished from the earth.

9. My bike will be allowed to be my boyfriend. He loves me.

10. I will have my own Disney Channel show called…er, I dont actually know. Maybe you guys could help me out on that…

11. Mike will be banned from the Jersey Shore and will be told how unattractive he really is.

12. Dog lovers will stop dissin on my kitty.

13. Winter weather will stop in early March.

14. The Lord of the Rings will have been real, and the book series will in fact be counted as a history book.

15. I will be an elf. (See #14.)

I Miss You, What Are You Wearing?

When you think you’re playing it cool but you’re really just being a stalker.

We’ve all done it. I (in all my magnificence and glory) have done it. You’ve done it. He, she, it does it. I bet James Bond did it once. You know what I mean: you like someone who you barely know, but you’re trying to play it cool…Only you constantly try to show them how cool you are, which makes you seem really uncool. Uh oh. So I’ve compiled a list on what you shouldn’t do when you lurrrrve someone:

1. Don’t talk to them all the time.
They are in your mind all the time, sure. But they don’t know that, and you shouldn’t make it apparent. This person is not gonna feel comfortable around you if you text them every waking hour and call them and blabber to them on the street when you see them and… Well, you know what I mean. They will be creeped out by you (and why shouldn’t they? You’re not playing very hard to get) if you are constantly telling them every boring detail about your life and asking them questions like “What’s your favorite color?”  So, you should play it cool. Be mystery girl/man. Read my blogs about how to make any twit fall in love with you (and then do exactly the opposite). Give them a taste and then make them want more! You can do it.

2. Don’t miss them.
“I miss you, what are you wearing” is not a socially acceptable statement, and it will not get the response, “I’m naked, come on over.” Instead, it will creep your dreamboat out, so don’t say/do anything that shows that you’re prematurely attached to them. Don’t compliment them on their amazingness in general (because nobody does that in real life and it kinda weirds people out if you don’t do it really smoothly…and trust me, if you’re here and looking to me for advice, you’re not smooth). Don’t tell them that you missed them; in fact, don’t say anything that could make it seem like you think about them when they’re not around.

3. Don’t be touchy.
Don’t you dare stroke his/her arm. Don’t. You. Dare. It’s just weird, especially if your dreamboat didn’t say, “Please touch my arm.”

4. Don’t be obvious.
Don’t tell all your friends how much you like your dreamboat. It’ll get back to them and they’ll feel strange. If you like them, ask them on a date or tell them about a concert you’re going to. “Hey there, cutie, wouldn’t it just be a crazy twist of fate if we happened to show up at the same concert because you happened to find this ticket in my hand that someone accidentally dropped…into my hand…that I’m now holding out toward you? Weird. See you there, maybe.” See? That’s totally not weird.

Movie Stars and Have You Ever?


I want to live in an old movie.

I’ve watched black and white movies for as long as I can remember. My childhood consisted of regular kids programs like Mr. Rogers and Sesame Street, but it was filled mainly by movies from the 30s and 40s (like Arsenic and Old Lace, The Thin Man, The Scarlet Pimpernel, and Marx Brothers movies).

I want that life.

People were so classy back then. I understand that women didn’t have many rights, people were pretty racist, and wars were taking over the world, but there was SO MUCH CLASS.
Now it’s all, have you ever done crack? Only once? Whoa, I do it at least once a day.

I always sucked at the game “Have You Ever” when we used to play it, because I’d never done any of the things people thought were important…
Q: Have you ever had sex in public?
A: WHAT? Bloody hell…and also NO.
Q: Have you ever made out with two people at once?
A: What do you think my life’s like? An episode of Jersey Shore?
Q: Have you ever eaten —
A: Whatever it is, no. No no no, let’s just say I don’t eat.
Q: Have you ever done crack?
A: I don’t even know where I’d get it, much less how to do it.

My game would’ve gone more like:
Q: Have you ever eaten a macaroni-orange colored crayon?
A: Erm. Yes. I thought they were really macaroni when I was little.
Q: Have you ever actually read a book?
Why yes! Multiple, in fact. And I enjoyed them.
Q: Have you actually liked someone for reasons other than wanting to rip all their clothes off in a ladies restroom?
Yes…Ah, well, I guess I’m just doomed to grow old and have cats. Or be in an old movie :)

People back then got famous for being good at things (like acting). Now you just have to say something really stupid or show up naked on the internet. And to that, I say: class it up, society. Put your panties back on.

Society Told Me Not To

Society: I wouldn’t do that if I were you.
Me: Shove it!

Society has told me (yep, it speaks) that I shouldn’t do these things in public:

1. Don’t dance down the skywalk.
People can see you. It is weird to drive down the street, look up for a moment, and see someone gettin’ jiggy with it in a suspended hallway. Also, people who are walking through the skywalk while you are dancing in it will be scared and/or confused. They will not join in with you, because life is not High School Musical and people don’t all dance in sync at random moments. No matter how much you wish you could, you should not dance in the skywalk.
Know what I say to that? HAHAHA, because I do it anyway. Yeah, I’m that girl flailing around in the skywalk.

2. Don’t sing in the rain. Or anywhere else where people are watching, for that matter.
Yeah, Gene Kelly did it, but that doesn’t mean you should. Technically he wasn’t in public, because it was a fictional movie. Singing in public, no matter how overjoyed you are, is annoying and will make people want to hit you with rotten fruit (though why anyone would carry rotten fruit around with them, nobody knows).
Know what I say to that? I don’t believe in fiction. Everything is real. Also, I don’t care, I will sing if I like. I will burst into song in the middle of lunch. (I will swallow my food before I burst into song in the middle of lunch.) I will burst into song when I’m walking down the street and the air smells good and I bloody well feel like singing.

3. Don’t laugh so much.
It makes your face go all red and spreads your nose across it. That is not attractive. Also, too much laughing can give the impression that you’re stupid.
Know what I say to that? Hahahahahahhahahahahha!

4. Don’t do creepy things to people, no matter how hilarious you might think it’d be.
Don’t wink or wiggle your eyebrows suggestively at people who are only slightly your friends (even if you are obviously joking, because people are stupid and won’t understand that you’re joking). Honestly, you just shouldn’t joke when around with people because your sense of humor is easily misinterpereted as insanity and someone will chuck you into the loony bin.
Know what I say to that? Nothing, but I do give it a suggestive eyebrow wiggle and a pat on the bottom.

How to Keep it Classy, or How Not to Be a Twit

Know why he's The Most Interesting Man in the World? Cuz he keeps it classy.

There is only one rule that one must abide by in order to stay classy. That rule is this: Don’t be a twit.
Twit: (n.) 1. A moron with absolutely no sense. 2. One who uses Twitter.

Okay, that second one was just for funsies. But really…I was looking something up on Google Images the other day and one of the photos was from twitter and labeled TwitPics. Why? What? Why?

As the Countess Luann once said, “Money can’t buy you class. Money can’t buy you class. Elegance is learned, my friends. Elegance is learned, oh yeah.” Technically, in her case, money can’t buy you class but it can buy you a record deal and fame even when you haven’t got much talent…

So don’t be a twit. How? It’s simple.

1. Don’t wear so much makeup that it looks like you shoved your face into a cake before you left the house. That’s probably not where the term “cake face” came from, but I think it’s close enough.

2. Don’t lean all over guys, especially when you first meet them. Give it a little time – make sure they smell good.
Actually, this has nothing to do with protecting your nose from gross scents. It does, however, have everything to do with not looking like a total bimbo when you’re in public.

Check out the poof on that fine sista.

3. Don’t tease your hair so much that you look like a dinosaur. I’m lookin’ at you, female cast of Jersey Shore. Nobody’s head is shaped that way naturally. So don’t push it.

4. Don’t shriek in public. I don’t care how happy you are. People around you have eardrums to protect.
Be happy. I’m happy. I am so happy, in fact, that I prefer to keep it to a dull roar.
Plus, when you shriek like that you just sound like a chipmunk being murdered…

5. Don’t get slobbering drunk. I get that you want to party. But don’t you also want to remember how much fun you had? Keep it classy, babe. Carry your champagne (or beer/vodka tonic/whatever…but champagne is classier cuz it’s French) around for a while, take a sip, carry it a little longer, take another sip. Don’t down the whole thing at once; then it starts getting ugly.

Life is Nothing Without Jazz Hands

Jazz hands are never inappropriate. Ever.

Except when a woman is giving birth and the doctor, instead of getting the baby, jumps up and starts shouting hallelujah and using jazz hands.

Or when you’re breaking up with someone and you all of a sudden start tap dancing and singing about how much you hate them and wave your hands around all jazzy-like.

Or when your spouse is falling asleep but you just keep grabbing their wrists and flapping their hands about in a jazz hands type way.

Or maybe someone accidentally walks in on you in the bathroom and, instead of apologizing and leaving the room, they demand that you start using jazz hands.

Or when you’re in your car and your favorite song comes on the radio. You start using jazz hands. You stop driving.

Or someone tells you a joke that you don’t think is funny so you jazz hand it up and back away slowly.

Or a telemarketer calls and you really don’t want to talk to them so you try to freak them out by using jazz hands. Yeah, figure that one out, smarties.

You know what, maybe jazz hands are appropriate in those situations.

Who Here Would Date an Elvis Impersonator?

This is Real Elvis. Don't try to look like him. He'll always be cuter than you.

Think about it. You’d be dating someone who looks a lot like a dead guy.

You’d be dating a guy who lives his life as if he were a dead guy. Who loves this dead guy soooo much that he has dedicated his life to acting/sounding/looking like him.

That’s weird.

People die. In fact, everyone who is born will eventually die. It’s not a novel idea, people. It is really obvious. CAVEMEN (excuse me, cavepeople) KNEW IT. So why, Elvis fans, can you not accept that The King (may he rest in peace) is dead? He is dead and he is not going to be alive ever again. Don’t pay people to dress up like him and thrust their hips around and throw sweaty ascots into crowds in Las Vegas.

And to you, Elvis Lookalike #95, why did you get plastic surgery? You practically killed my mother.

There we were, in the comfort of our home, when all of a sudden a PBS special on Elvis came on the TV. My mom didn’t realize that it was a tribute performance to Elvis –  all the original members of his band were playing and an Elvis impersonator was, well, impersonating Elvis. This Elvis impersonator (Lookalike #95) looked so much like Elvis #1 that my mom thought it was him. And she was incredibly confused when all the band members were old and she found out the performance had been taped recently.

Okay, I realize “almost killing” and “severely confusing” my mother are two completely different things, but you get the point.

So knock it off! (I’m lookin’ at you, #95).

Edit: I just realized that I wrote a post yelling, “ELVIS IS DEAD AND WILL NEVER COME BACK” on the 33rd anniversary of his death. Foot. In. Mouth.

Ummm…I love Elvis!

Outside My Window, Something Seranades Me


Is this you? Are you this?

Dear weird owlet/cat/small child outside my window,

First of all, what are you? You are making a strange squealing/squeaking/(dare I say) burping noise that I can’t properly identify you by. This species ambiguity is freaking me out.

Also, why must you make this noise outside my window? Like…RIGHT outside my window? Every single night this week, it’s been “squeal/squeak/burp” over and over and over until I have to practically blast The Strokes to drown you out. But once they’re blasting, sleep is out of the question since The Strokes are louder than you anyway.

See how difficult you are making my life?

Maybe you could move to a different tree/shrub/hole in the ground. And hopefully you aren’t a small child, because that’s creepy and dangerous – you could be eaten by a coyote or owl or something even scarier, like Katy Perry. I’ve heard she shoots babies with her whipped cream gun bra.

With all due respect, I ask you to shut up.