How Swede It Is

Sweden has a higher level of social spending to GDP than any other nation. Because of this, they some of the lowest levels of both relative and absolute poverty, and one of the most equal income distributions. Sweden also provides equal and comprehensive access to both education and health care. Given every advantage to not just survive, but thrive, the Swedes turn around and do this. 

 http://tnbrg.blogspot.com/

and this

http://tnbrg.blogspot.com/2008/11/hussein-is-president-of-united-states.html

What the hell?

But what do you expect? This is his profile http://www.blogger.com/profile/03276576110257211366

Interests include: decay, fashion, christianity, gangs and throw ups. Indeed.

 

 

Lost in translation

I do not know what is going on here, but I am super excited that involves a wedding dress, happy fish icon and Alfred Hitchcock. Win, win, extra super awesome win. http://azo-edu.blogspot.com/?expref=next-blog

Beat on the brat

Oh my god! Someone come quick, that one kid is kicking the crap out of the other kid and trying to bury him in a pile of leaves! And this lady is drawing pictures of it and printing it on "fall" themed note cards! http://juliescraftyspot.blogspot.com/2010/11/digi-doodle-shops-best-challenge... Oh the humanity!

Beat on the brat

Oh my god! Someone come quick, that one kid is kicking the crap out of the other kid and trying to bury him in a pile of leaves! And this lady is drawing pictures of it and printing it on "fall" themed nite cards! http://juliescraftyspot.blogspot.com/2010/11/digi-doodle-shops-best-challenge... Oh the humanity!

Wake me when something happens

Look, I get it. Almost every blog is lame. Blogs are the place we put things that are too boring or lame to be Facebook status updates. But damn. This is egregious. http://ralmagehansen.blogspot.com/2010/10/dishes.html I have never once in my entire life cared about how other people handle their dishes. Unless that dish is being thrown at me. Which happens more often than you think.

Smells Like Teen Bullsh*t

I mean, it's like, you know, things and stuff and, like feelings. Right? Seriously, the title of the blog is the only thing I understood. http://abhas1.blogspot.com/?expref=next-blog . Though it did remind me to send a note to my teenage self (and most other teens): You are a douchbag.

Notable Quotable

I haven't read this blog in a long time and I don't think about it at all but then, I came across this http://beefandchocolate.blogspot.com/2010/11/doritos.html . I cannot stop quoting it. The rest of the entries are freaking genius. But only when read aloud as though English is your third language and you learned it in Wisconson. Go ahead. Try it.

Blech Indeed

So this happen - http://paulandmerideth.blogspot.com/2010/05/oh-world-of-college-ministry.html . The game is questionable at best and do NOT get me started on the later Big Lots reference (pure genius/ awful/ waste of money/ WTF), but this wins the honor of repost solely for the use of the word "blech".

You are perfect.

The recent suicides of several (goddamn, SEVERAL) LGBT teens is terrifying. It is terrifying because each one was set in motion by bullies. People who convinced these children that life wasn't good enough, that THEY weren't good enough.

I am devastated for so many reasons. How have we raised people that are so inhuman that they think torturing others is funny? Why do we allow people to believe that words are not weapons? Does anyone realize what an utter failure we are as a race that we haven't given our friends and family enough comfort to know that there is another way out?

Call me a hypocrite. I complain. I'm mean. A lot. I write jokes. I know what I am writing. I know the power it has. Do not ever believe that I do not weigh the impact of my words and actions continually. I do.

I have lost far too many people to suicide. A ridiculous amount. I believe firmly that for an adult to take their own life is the most selfish thing anyone can do, they have failed us. When a child ends their own life, we have failed them.

It does little good to write some trifle of a blog entry. But it is all I have.

Please, to anyone reading this who is hurting, I have been there and I know the despair. I have been bullied to the brink. All through grade school, cruel and mindless children tortured me to the very edge. I was bullied mercilessly and continually. I pulled through. I became an amazing person, because of, or in spite of it. After many years of ridicule and desperation, I found peace in my self. I have learned much and I do not pretend to know it all, but I know a few things.

1. Who you are right now is PERFECT.
You are exactly as you are meant to be. Who you are is MORE than enough.
Anyone who tells you differently is a liar.

2. These are NOT the 'best days of your life'.
Especially if you are still in elementary school, high school or college: this is not it. It gets better.
Anyone who tells you differently is a liar.

3. LIFE is AMAZING.
For all it's hurt and trials and stains and cracks, this world is full of more joy and wonder than you can ever know. It is full of rain and grass, husbands and peonies and pugs, ice cream and velvet and pedicures and bacon and whispers and fresca. Any one of those things is worth getting out of bed for.
Anyone who tells you differently is a murderer.

If you don't believe me, call someone. Call a friend, a family member, a doctor, a stranger. Call someone you trust and ask them why they got up this morning. You may be shocked, but the answer is probably you.

This Pit Is Banana, B-A-N-A-N-A-S

This is my post this week from The Great and Secret Thing. Can't get enough of me? Check out my archive on TGST here. While you're there, read EVERYTHING ELSE ON THE SITE. It is one of my favorites. It's full of art, design, poetry, fiction and so much more. Oh, and plenty of me.

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Kirk Cameron and his friend Ray Comfort "proved" the creationist theory with a banana here.

If a banana proves creation, then what does another fruit prove?

Behold the sinister peach.

If you look at it, you'll notice it's round and soft. It has a clever little cleft that makes it look vaguely like a human butt from some angels. The peach is covered in tiny fuzzy hairs. These hairs are not tasty nor pleasant to the mouth and they immediately warn you against eating it.

So, we must remove the outer cover. When we attempt to peel the peach, it tears and pulls. Pieces of skin are difficult to remove without a knife or tool. When we finally remove the inconvenient outer cover, we notice that the hairy skin has done nothing to protect the inside. The meat can be bruised and mushy, even though the outside color is the same as the last peach we had which was perfectly ripe and delicious.

Now we are able to eat the peach. Or are we? Before we even bite into the flesh, it has become almost impossible to hold. It is sticky and slippery, but if we tighten our grip, it smashes in our fingers. We awkwardly place our mouth on the flesh trying not to drop the fruit in the process. We take a bite. Our teeth hit the hard stone center in a crash of pain. There is a giant seed. We attempt to push the seed out or peel the fruit from it, but they are joined on all sides. If the peach is a bit under ripe, the seeds pulls away easily, but the meat is not as tasty. If the peach is at the peak of sweet perfection, the meat clings to the bitter pit in desperation. We must clumsily eat around the pit trying to not get too close, lest we taste the acrid flesh nearest the center.

Lastly, the pit is potentially dangerous. Peach seeds contain cyanogenic glycosides. These substances are capable of decomposing into a sugar molecule and hydrogen cyanide gas. While peach seeds are not the most toxic, large doses of these chemicals from any source are hazardous to human health.

So to recap:

Banana / Peach

Fits the human hand / Hairy ball

Non-slip grip / Juicy, sticky mess

Easy open tab top / Difficult to peel, skin or chop

Mouth shaped / Ass-shaped

Color indicates tastiness / Color indicates fuck all

Seedless and easy to eat / Cyanide filled rock in the center

Bananas don't prove anything, except the existence of bananas. Believe whatever you want, just remember, they call it faith for a reason.

Doin' It and Doin' It and Doin' It Well

This is a post I wrote in early August and must have forgotten to post. I was too busy living . But it needs to be seen. Enjoy.

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Stop bitching about how there is nothing to do in Memphis. There's plenty. Go do it. Here's some suggestions from my last two weeks:

Friday

Running Gag and Friends (Wiseguys and Freakengine) had a great show at at the Evergreen Theatre. There are THREE improv comedy troupes in Memphis, people. Go see one of them. Or go see 2 of them. Or go see them all and write an essay comparing and contrasting performance styles and modern improvisational theory. It's your life.

Saturday

Flipside Memphis hosted a Season Screening at the Brooks Museum. Amazing films about even more amazing things you can do in Memphis. Check out the May 12 episode to see my job or June 2 to see my husband! I also met Alice from Vini. Super nice, amazingly creative. They host a social club on Mondays. Make art, meet people, quit whining.


For lunch we went to Gus's Fried Chicken for the best chicken in the city, probably the world.
Not to mention, people watching beyond compare. Check out the Memphis Knit Mafia tag by the register.

That night, my husband's troupe, The Wiseguys performed an all ages show at Cafe Eclectic.
Comedy + Key Lime Pie + Coffee = I Don't Want to Kick Everyone's Ass As Much.


Monday
Marks Menus Eat Up at South of Beale was a blast. Marks Menus combines two of my favorite things: food and publicly voicing an opinion. South of Beale combines two of my other favorite things: brisket and deep frying. Get the egg rolls and DO NOT SHARE.

Tuesday
Memphis Knit Mafia at Casa Grill . Great company, great food, great service. I highly recommend the house iced tea and ALL the food.

Saturday
Storytellers Unplugged featuring Chris Davis from the Memphis Flyer. Dinner at Zinnie's East, then upstairs for one of the most insane stories I have heard in a while, told by Chris as though it was the sort of thing that had happen to everyone at least once. I have been through a lot and led a full and storied life. I have NEVER found a sex toy in a field and brought it home. Just sayin.


Sunday
Memphis Polo Club to benefit Girls Inc. Surprisingly fun day.
I was worried we would be a bit low brow for the polo set. They were warm and welcoming. We packed a fancy spread of champagne and cheese and crackers. Erin made Polo cupcakes. Jonathan brought flower arrangements. Very civilized. We made over the top hats and had a blast. We even won for best tailgate! It was honestly the most diverse crowd I had seen at a Memphis event in a while. A great way to spend an afternoon!



Later we celebrated a friend's birthday at EuroStyle Restaurant . GO TO THERE NOW. The food was amazing, the service friendly and fast. The best part of the night was the entertainment. Every night a very talented man on a keyboard plays piano bar music. Like USSR radio music. Elvis, Sinatra and plenty of eastern block favs. GOLD. Russian beer, by the way, is tasty and comes in VERY large bottles.

On the fence about Memphis? Live this week.
If this isn't enough Memphis for you, move. Seriously. Get out.

Live Rude Girls!

Today, we have a very special Guest Blogger. My friend Lindsey is far too lazy to start her own blog, so she wrote this. Then made me do all the work of posting it. Slacker. Enjoy!

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I have been told that my status updates are clever. Great, but the point of this blog post is not to focus on my awesomeness, but rather to help others avoid the shame of being hidden. So here are some do’s and don’t’s with Facebook status updates, perhaps it can save you from being hidden, if you already aren’t. This will work best if you pull up your profile and look at a sampling of your status updates.

1. Don’t be boring. Could I reconstruct a concise timeline of your day or week by reading your status updates? Then, you are boring. If I wanted this kind of information, I would marry you. If you feel the need to tell the Facebook world you are waiting for the bug man, then tell us what you imagine the bug man will look like. Then, when the bug man arrives and you inevitably want to update your status, you can tell us all how far off your mental picture of (her!) was and that makes your boring, inconsequential update a little less so. Just a little.

Examples:

BadStatus: Waiting in line at the DMV sucks.

GoodStatus: If this trip to the DMV were a sitcom, this is the point where I would change the channel because “things like that just don’t happen.”

2. Don’t be a self-help book. If you need a pep talk, don’t give it to yourself on Facebook; it just comes off as desperate and pathetic and it’s so easy for people to remember these little Tony Robbins updates when your life is spiraling back into whatever perpetual state of fuckedupedness its fated to return to.

Bad Status: My life is perfect and wonderful and I am exactly where I should be right now because I visualized myself here.

Good Status: Hey, I’m not screwing up right now.

3. Along the same lines – don’t profess your love on Facebook. If your significant other is the bee’s knees say so, but don’t go on and on about how wonderful your life is together. It just sounds like you are trying to convince yourself (which you probably are).

Bad Status: My shnookie wookie is the most amazing man ever. My life is so blessed to have you in it. You make me a better person everyday with your effervescent spirit and your unrelenting support.

Good Status: I love my husband like Donkey Kong loves throwing barrels.

4. Don’t overly quote. A clever quote every now and again is one thing, but if your profile is a series of quotes, it means you have nothing original to say. Therefore, you are boring. Along the same lines, I’m not sure where this trend of coming posting youtube song after song after song came from. It is okay to cruise you tube as much as you want, but you make a mistake when you think everyone else cares what you are watching. The only good way to exhibit this behavior is to do it every once in a while.

5. Don’t talk about your kids too much. This infraction is often paired with #1. If your profile is all about your child, then you don’t have a life and trust me, that’s the worst thing that you can do to a child is make your life revolve around them. Just look at Britney and Lindsay. That’s right, keep talking about your kids on Facebook and they’ll be spending time in the slammer in no time. There are ways to make fun child-related updates. Just think: would my friend that hates kids find this interesting? If so, you’re okay to post. (another note: if it would end up on STFU Parents, then don’t post it)

Bad Status: OMG, my little Muffy is six months old today. I can’t believe my little angel is such a big girl.

Good Status: Muffy’s six months old today and still doesn’t have a job. The mooch.

6. Don’t write letters to people/things/events. It was clever when the first 100 people did it; now, it's just passive aggressive and past the point of ridiculous.

Bad Status: Dear woman who was in front of me at Costco who paid with pennies and smelled bad and gave me a dirty look when I tapped my foot at you, thanks for ruining my day. Love, Me.

Good Status: Shopping in bulk might save you money, but it won’t spare you the shame of getting in the wrong line. Every. Time.

Bottom line is you’re going to keep doing what you do and I will probably keep reading your status updates because you are a trainwreck and I can’t help it.

I'm Not Fat, I'm Grumpy.

I joined a gym.

Do not start with the congratulations and encouragement. It's condescending. I'm fat and tired of it. I go to the gym. Don't coddle me.

But people are not making it easy. Forget the agony of getting up at the ass crack of dreadful. Forget the drive to the gym, the aches and pains, the sweat. Forget all the parts of the actual exercise that are not enjoyable. (And do not give me that runner's high bullshit.) The other people at the gym are what make me want to slink back to bed with a donut and await my impending coronary.

Today at the gym, I'm on the elliptical, a TOTAL STRANGER walks by. He stops to say hello.

TS: Good morning!

Me: morning

TS: So, how much have you lost?

Me: What?

TS: Weight, how much have you lost?

Me: I don't know.

TS: Well, why not?

Me: I don't weigh.

TS: Then what's the point?

At this point, it is all I can do to not punch him in the neck. First, what fraking business is it of yours, STRANGE OLD MAN? But beyond that I want to shout: HEY ASSHOLE! WHAT MAKES YOU THINK I NEED TO LOSE WEIGHT?! ARE YOU CALLING ME FAT?! ARE YOU?!

Let me stop to say that I know I am fat. I get it. I also have no illusions that people don't make assumptions about me based on being fat. But guess what? That stunned stupid look in your eye tells me you're a moron, and I don't ask you how long it took you to figure out how to turn on the rowing machine. (For the record, almost 10 minutes. Hint, the rower is not electric).

The same week, while I was working out, someone talked to me for 30 minutes about how he hated technology, and used to be married to that florist, and had these two dogs named Buster and Bobo, and now he's here, thanks to jesus, and "gee, ain't it nice to have someone to talk to at the gym?". NO. No, it isn't nice. That's why I have my iPod and iPad. So I don't have to interact with you.

Then in the locker room, THE INNER SANCTUM, a woman began to tell me about how her husband died. A woman I didn't know was telling me, in great fraking detail, about the death of a man I never met as I sat wrapped in a towel putting on mascara. WTF.

I know I sound like the dick in all this. These poor people just needed someone to talk to. But why me? When then? I am already someplace I do not want to be doing something that makes me miserable. Make friends on your own time, jerks. Now I have to wear fake earphones so I can pretend to not hear them instead of being a total douche about it. The worst part is that being a total douche doesn't work either. Being distant or outright rude does NOT discourage them.

The problem is that we have broken the social contract. Especially in the South. There is an inferred sense of intimacy when we participate in similar activities. Going to the same gym does not make us friends. That's like forming a sorority for people who love Fruity Pebbles cereal. It's just pathetic.

I propose a restoration of basic gym rules. Rules that will make it easier for me to drag my fat ass out of bed and on to the treadmill. So here goes:

Rule 1. Leave me alone. You may greet me with a nod or soft "hi". But that is it.

Rule 2. NEVER discuss work with me at the gym. This is me time. I am in ill spirits already.

Rule 3. Do not mention my weight. Or my goals. Or how much my working out "really is paying off". Leave me alone.

Rule 4. If I am working out, leave me alone.

Rule 5. If I am in towel, leave me alone for REAL.

Exercise in a gym is a solitary activity. If you want it to be social, join a class or bring a friend. Otherwise, go join ineedfriends.com and leave me alone.

Truth or Snare

Go to http://formspring.me/MrsLawcomic and ask me anything. I'll even let you ask anonymously! Lucky you!

Advice on love, cooking, friends, work, knitting, anything. Any answers will be as honest as I can and possibly funny.

I'm not promising I'll answer all of them, but lets's just give it the ol' community college try. Shall we?

Shrink-y Dink

When I turned 30, I promised myself 2 things: therapy and a house keeper. Every two weeks, someone tells me I'm right and someone else dusts. Clean house, clean mind. A year later, the house keeper is gone. I couldn't justify the expense of both and, as it turns out, I like the instant gratification of vacuuming. Also, I have a Dyson, which is extra badass.

The therapist stayed.

How could she not? She is doing good work. If you've read this blog, you know I have issues. And she listens. I drone on about my life and whine and bitch and she has to pretend to be interested. It's brilliant. $30 a session and she agrees with me. Don't misunderstand. She tells me when I'm wrong. Just not often. She knows what's good for her.

The downside is that between therapy and Twitter I was getting all (okay, most) of my bitching out of my system. Doesn't leave a lot for blogging. But then the wonder and magic of the human spirit took over. I have come to realize that my capacity for anger and agitation is well beyond what I realized. Exponentially infinite. I have found fresh new things to hate. Things that only once got a passing scowl are now given the true weight of my anger. With the real issues settling, I can focus my energy on hating things like E! online, eggs, Body by Jake, people who drink white zinfandel, and James Cameron.

Get a therapist, people. That and smoking are the only things that set us apart from the apes. Even better, get a therapist in a smoking office and tell those monkeys where to shove it.

It's So Hard To Say Goodbye To Stupid Things

The holidays were tough and I just haven't had the time or will to talk to you guys. But it's a new year and time to start fresh. I've had plenty of time to think and I'm calling bullshit on a few things. So let's make a social contract, folks. You give up this things on my list and I won't start ramming strangers with my car. Deal?

Open toe boots.

This shit has gone too far. They are hideous. Just because something is new and weird doesn't mean it is attractive. If you have open toe boots, you fell for it. Admit defeat to savvy marketing and move on.

Joy Behar

She was hanging by a thread. Now she has the Nancy Grace/CNN stink on her.

Giving your kids stupid misspelled names

If you want to give your kid a special unique name, do it. Name her Zaiah or Penelope or Birdie. Ayshleigh and Kailee are typos. Stop making bad spelling what passes for originality.

FB Game Invites

Mafia Wars, Farmville, etc. Do not invite me. I have a job and a social life. Also your game is dumb and pointless. Except Farkle. That's just good ol' fashion fun.

'At Last' being played in commercials.

If you say to yourself 'at last my love has come along' when you buy cat food, you will never know true happiness. Fact.

Black-Guy-with-White-Girl-Forbidden-Love

Dance on SYTYCD.

We get it. They are different races. Do something interesting. It isn't 1956. This is not edgy, except maybe in Jasper, Alabama. Which reminds me...

Jasper, Alabama.

I have had the utter displeasure to be forced to drive through Jasper repeatedly. As a child, I spent days at a time there. On Christmas Day, I had the onerous misfortune to have to eat a meal there. In a Hardees. If your town is on a major highway in the south and you can't even rustle up a Cracker Barrel, society and civilization have given up on you. If you know anyone who is currently living there and not trying to get out, shoot them in the face. They don't deserve the gift of life.