Month: August 2011

Simpsons Already Did It!

What’s the deal with airplane food? Men like sports, women like shopping. One Cinnabon is big enough to feed a family of four.

The lack of originality in the world is shocking. We’re about one movie remake – or “re-envisioning” – away from Revenge of the Revenge of the Nerds. Or perhaps America will flock to the theaters to see Mannequin 2 remade in eye-popping 3D.

Did you hear about the edgy new sitcom coming this Fall? It follows a group of friends living in *insert large metropolitan city here*as they navigate their way through the twists and turns of this crazy thing we call life. Men and women trying to “just be friends”? Let the hilarity ensue!

Or for those of you with a more serious side, I heard there is a shocking new drama coming about a group of cops/detectives/scientists/authors/psychics who solve crimes/investigate crime scenes/prosecute criminals. The stripper was killed by her jealous boyfriend that was a suspect in the beginning of the show, but then stopped being a suspect? ~That’s quite the twist ending.~

The “Recommended Reading” aisle at Target is like walking the halls of the most depressing animal shelter in the world. Apparently all you need to write a book nowadays is a blind cat, three-legged dog or a ferret with bipolar disorder. Tell the harrowing tale of one of man’s furry friends overcoming a disability and BAM! You’ve got a bestseller.

“Sara looked out as Rover frolicked joyfully in the backyard. She watched how he played with such youthful exuberance and for a brief moment, Sarah felt a pang of sadness. No one who saw Rover’s carefree spirit would guess that he was deaf, diabetic and had lost part of his tongue saving a newborn baby from a possum.”

Wait… didn’t something like that happen in Lady and the Tramp? See… I can’t even come up with an original dog-saving-baby-being-attacked by-wild-animal story.

You’d never know it by the final outcome of these posts, but I actually have pretty high standards for myself. I never feel like any of my ideas are original enough. Writing about Facebook? It’s been done. A story about Rebecca’s Black’s song Friday? How trite.

But apparently we don’t get sick of things as easily as you might think. We’re a culture obsessed with what’s fresh and new, but it would seem that we also enjoy the same old, same old. That or we’re just really stupid and can’t tell when we’re being fed the same idea over and over again.

Did you know that high-calorie beverages make you gain weight? How about the fact that there are jobs available in health care? If you weren’t aware of these facts, then you’ve never once been to the Yahoo! homepage.

Listen to the Comedy station on Pandora radio. The comedians’ topics are all basically the same, they’re just presented in different ways. Yes, yes, Snuggies are hilarious and women can’t drive. I think I just came up with my first standup bit.

So what’s the point that this snarky self-helper is trying to make? There are no original ideas left in the world. Even writing about how there are no original ideas isn’t an original idea. But that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Life would be pretty dull if we got bored that easily. It’s the way in which the material is presented, not the originality of the idea that matters.

Now if you’ll excuse me, there is a marathon of Intervention/Addicted/Celebrity Rehab with Dr. Drew on that I must watch.

Facebook Doesn’t Annoy People, People Annoy People: Part 1

Have you ever run into an acquaintance and had that split second moment where you considered jumping into a rosebush so you didn’t have to talk to them? I bet you’re friends with them on Facebook.

Why does Facebook exist, really? It’s not really for professional networking, that’s LinkedIn. It’s not really to follow celebrities or companies, that’s Twitter. It’s not… eh… I won’t even bother mentioning MySpace because no one has logged in to that website for five years.

As far as I can tell Facebook is meant to help us keep in touch with friends, family and those acquaintances that we actually like. But that’s a dream world scenario.

In reality Facebook keeps us “connected” with a few key people and the other 250 (or 1,237 if you’re one of “those” people) are just filler.

Ask yourself this question: should you be “friends” with someone if seeing that it’s their birthday makes you think “ugh… do I really want to waste 20 seconds wishing them a happy birthday?” Or better yet, seeing it’s their birthday makes you go “it’s whose birthday?”

We all have them. The people who pop up on the screen and we’re annoyed before we even read what they’re going to say.

Oh, look! Another vegan recipe. When I decide to switch to that super expensive, not-allowed-to-eat-anything diet I’ll be all over that.

What’s that? Your kid used the potty for the first time? Let’s hope that doesn’t end up ranking in the top 10 achievements of their life. Judging by the fact that you just potty trained a five-year-old I’m thinking the chances aren’t looking too good…

There’s the irritating ex-neighbor who is obsessed with posting 80’s music videos. Ten YouTube videos in a row from a band whose drummer has been dead for 12 years. Each post with its own ever-so-ingenious caption such as “sweet song” or “Your gonna love this one. Its awesome” Catch the grammatical error there? Grammar jokes, people. Grammar jokes.

Then there is the elderly friend of your friend’s great-aunt that you met once at a wedding. They feel the need to share every “Repost this if you know someone who…” status that has ever been invented. This is the same women who will soon be ecstatic to learn she was chosen to inherit millions of dollars from an heiress – ha, that sounds like a British person saying hairless – Ugandan prince. All she has to do is send her social security number and bank account info. How could that ever be a bad idea?

What about that annoying friend with a blog who spends all her time pimping her latest entry and trying to get friends to “like” her page? They’re literally the worst.

Ugh! Or even worse… what about those idiots that are happy? Happy couples. Happy families. Happy cats. Vomit, puke, vomit. Go sell your crazy somewhere else, happy. We’re all full up here. Obviously I log onto Facebook to judge people, not be happy for them.

All joking aside, what’s this Snarky Self-Helper’s advice? Everyone on Facebook is annoying to someone. If you don’t like it, there’s this super simple solution called not logging on. Eh, who am I kidding? Being annoyed by people on Facebook is one of the greatest joys of Facebook. So let’s go stalk that weird co-worker… but first let me take a selfie.

We’re Not As Cultured As We’d Like to Think

People used to be so barbaric in their chosen forms of entertainment. There was a time when people would actually gather around the town gallows and watch others be hung to death for the sheer amusement.

I want to keep my posts fairly light-hearted in nature so I’m going to just ignore the fact that there are still places around the world that do this. Like most Americans I choose ignorance. Makes me feel less guilty when I’m bitching about traffic jams or how crowded it is at the mall.

Another entertainment pastime that was less morbid – but 100% politically incorrect – was the good old-fashioned freak show. Can you believe that people used to actually pay to stand and gawk at individuals with physical and mental disorders?

Oh, look! Jersey Shore is on…

As I’ve previously confessed, I love reality television. And I must admit that most of the reality shows I like are the kinds that make me feel better about myself through the art of judging.

My love of judging probably comes as a shock to those of you who know me. The secret lives we lead, right?

I personally don’t choose to watch shows like the aforementioned Jersey Shore. I want my reality television to trick me into thinking I’m watching a documentary. Makes me feel all classy-like.

Everyone has their own reality show sleaze-threshold. Mine cuts off right around any show involving a half ton man. I eat those types of shows up, so to speak, but I feel bad in the process.

Whatever your style of reality show, it will always contain some element of what I call the “Freak Show Factor.” We watch these people struggle and fail and make fools of themselves. And because of the freak show factor even the kindest one among us has had a moment of “I’m glad that’s not me.”

The Germans even have a word for this. They call it schadenfreude. The definition being: enjoyment obtained from the troubles of others. ~Shocking that the German people would go to the effort a creating a specific word for something so insensitive and cruel.~

If I were more thorough this is where I would insert some sort of information about the psychological principle behind all this. But I think you’re just as capable of using Google as I am.

So what is the point that this snarky self-helper is trying to make? We’re only human. Sometimes you just can’t fight nature. At least we’re cultured enough to feel bad about our schadenfreude. Or at least pretend that we do.

When It’s Okay to Say, “That’s So Gay”

Oh, Public Service Announcements. We know them so well. Created by The Ad Council, some of the most famous – and relentlessly mocked – PSA slogans include “A Mind is a Terrible Thing to  Waste” and “Only You Can Prevent Forest Fires.”

Hey Ad Council! What if we’re wasting the mind of someone who causes forest fires? Exactly.

One of the council’s current campaigns focuses on the negative connotation of the phrase “that’s so gay.”  These particular PSA’s are a collaboration between The Ad Council and the Gay, Lesbian and Straight Education Network.

The campaign’s commercials feature “celebrities” such as Wanda Sykes and Hillary Duff (~well-known gay rights activist~) confronting unsuspecting teenagers as they use the phrase “that’s so gay.”

The campaign hopes that people will stop and think what they’re really implying when they say “that’s so gay.”

For those of you who don’t know, I am the queen of the gays (yeah, you heard me Kathy Griffin). I love them and they love me. So I am all for fighting against discrimination and preventing the bullying of gay teens. However, this campaign has overlooked one critical fact: sometimes you just have to say “That’s So Gay.”

I got in trouble recently with one of my gays for saying “That’s so gay.” What was I describing? Something super gay.

When I’m watching RuPaul’s Drag Race and one of the contestants does a pirouette during the lip-sync for their life, how am I supposed to describe that? When a designer on Project Runway screams “Where the HELL is my chiffon?” what do you want me to say?

The most concise and accurate response is simply “That’s so gay.”

Some people use the term to be intentionally malicious or hateful while others use it with complete ignorance. When I say “that’s so gay” I say it with the utmost love and respect.

In fact, why can’t we decide to use “that’s so gay” to describe positive things? If you find a $5 bill on the street, proclaim “That’s so gay!” When your friend tells you they’re engaged, scream “That’s so gay!” The next time your boyfriend is excited that he bought some fabulous shoes on sale, tell him “that’s so gay.”

The point that this snarky self-helper is trying to make is that intent is more important than words. People can say some horrible, hateful, evil things without using a single slur or profanity.

And sometimes things are just super, mega gay and “that’s so gay” is the most eloquent description that can be used.

How Do I Get That Crappy 70’s Look?


Technology today is amazing. We can carry around 20,000 songs in our pocket, watch 3D movies in our home and we have the internet at our fingertips every moment of the day. We have all the tools we need to never have to interact with another human being face-to-face ever again. It’s magical.

Photography is an example of a medium that advances drastically with each passing year. Digital photography has revolutionized the way we take, keep and display pictures. Most family memories are kept in a folder in a computer hard drive instead of in a shoebox in the closet. The majority of us now carry a camera with us at all times (as the poor individuals on PeopleofWalmart.com can attest… or they could attest if they owned computers).

Even picture frames are digital now. Heaven forbid we have an attention span long enough to put one picture in a frame. Must. Have. Constant. Stimulation.

This year Hasselblad came out with a 200-megapixel camera that can be yours for the low, low price of $45,000. 200-megapixels? No one needs to be seen with that kind of clarity.

While most of us don’t have a 200-megapixel camera at our disposal, even the camera on my iPhone is 5-megapixels. The digital camera I bought a couple years ago was only 8-megapixels.

So even our phones can take amazing, clear, beautiful pictures. How can we best utilize these amazing advancements? I know! Let’s make our photos look like they were taken by a cheap 70’s camera and then stored in the pages of an acid laden photo album for 40 years.

Apps like Instagram and Hipstamatic give smartphone users the ability to add all kinds of filters and effects to their photos. For those of you who aren’t tech savvy, let me give you an analogy of the effect you get with a photo filter: it’s like buying a new pair of jeans, throwing them in a mud puddle and ripping them into shreds because you feel it adds “character.” Oh, wait! That is a current fashion trend. But I digress.

In the spirit of full discretion I have to admit that I love crap-a-fying my photos. Overexpose? Yes please. Add a lens flare? Don’t mind if I do. Fade all the colors? Indubitably. Crisp, color photos are boring.

So what is the point this snarky self-helper is trying to make? Sometimes technological advancements don’t equal advancements in entertainment or artistic expression.

Actually, that’s not really my point. The real point I’m trying to make is that we don’t all need to be photographed with amazing digital clarity and crispness. If I don’t have a photo retoucher at my disposal 24/7 then I might as well just overexpose the hell out of my pictures and throw a nice grunge filter over it. Amazing how my complexion clears right up.

Yesterday Was Thursday, Today is Friday

Teen singer Rebecca Black got a lot of criticism for her song, Friday. And why wouldn’t she? The song was ridiculous. With lyrics like “Tomorrow is Saturday, and Sunday, comes afterwards” and “we, we, we so excited.” Lyrics to a song couldn’t get much more moronic and juvenile. Or could they…

A couple weeks ago I was listening to the mind numbing song selections available on our local Top 40 station. I heard a song that I rationalized could only be a spoof of Black’s song Friday. ~The hosts of the morning zoo are skilled at parody and hilariously funny.~ This was probably a replay of one of their “bits.”

Here is a sample of the lyrics to this mystery song:

There’s a hickie or a bruise
Pictures of last night
Ended up online
I’m screwed
Oh well
It’s a black top blur
But I’m pretty sure it ruled

…

This Friday night
Do it all again
This Friday night
Do it all again

Slowly I made the horrible realization that this was a “real song.” Even more horribly, it turns out the song is by the 27-year-old singer Katy Perry.

“Whoa! People are going to make so much fun of this song,” I thought to myself.

But to my surprise I’ve seen nothing about this song. Where are the articles making fun of its idiotic subject matter? Why doesn’t my Facebook feed explode with statuses quoting Perry’s stupid lyrics every Friday? This is a grown-ass woman singing about getting hickies and using the term “epic fail” (without the slightest hint of sarcasm) and no one raises an eyebrow.

The answer to this conundrum is simple: most popular music is stupid and the majority of people just don’t want to admit it.

I have no problem with stupid music. It’s enjoyable. All in all, music should be fun. If it has a good beat and you can dance to it, I say more power to you.

It’s just an interesting line between what constitutes a laughably stupid pop song, and a legitimate pop song (if there is such a thing). Black’s song Friday has gotten stuck in my head more times than I care to admit, but I can’t remember Perry’s Last Friday Night even if I try. So which song is the real joke, America?

The advice that this snarky self-helper is giving to you is just to accept that every pop song you like is dumb and be okay with that. Life’s too short to be a music snob.

So go out and have fun, fun, think about fun. You know what it is.

I’m Not Old, You’re Incompetent

The horror. Oh, the horror!

Sorry, I got ahead of myself. Let me take a moment to set a scene for you.

You’re in the checkout line of your local grocery store getting ready to purchase your adult beverage of choice. You’ve carefully thrown some additional items into the mix so it doesn’t look like you went to the store just to buy booze. Everyone knows that you want your shopping selection to have that “I just noticed the alcohol while I was shopping for my groceries” feel. It’s just the classy thing to do.

As you begin to check out, the pimple-faced 12-year-old working the register asks you if you found everything alright. You answer politely “yes,” even though you’re thinking “why the hell would someone wait until they started checking out to ask where to find something?”

Since you’re a courteous shopper, you politely get your I.D. ready to hand to him. The sign does say that they card anyone who looks under 40-years-old after all.

The adolescent cashier finishes ringing up your items, looks at you and says “Your total is…”

Oh… no… he… didn’t.

In a humiliated panic you try to subtly put your ID back into its slot in your wallet. You attempt to cover this catastrophe by pretending that you’re getting out your credit card, but you can tell everyone is looking at you and laughing. Laughing at your smug delusion. “Ha! She thinks she looks 19,” they think to themselves.

There has to be some reason for this blatant oversight. The explanation is not an easy one to accept, but there is only one logical answer: he’s incompetent.

Here’s a little tip from this snarky self-helper to all the cashiers of the world: always ask a woman for ID. Trust me, it’s for the betterment of society as a whole.

Fat America, Skinny Jeans: The Fashion Industry is Just Pranking Us, Right?

America has a weight problem. Approximately one-third of U.S adults are currently obese, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. BAM! I just used my journalism degree more in those two sentences than I have since I graduated. But I digress. If there is one thing that doesn’t belong in a blog, it’s any knowledge of how to write.

But seriously, we all know America is fat. Anyone who went to The Ohio State Fair this year can attest to that. America’s weight problem is far from a secret. So what do the brain-washing geniuses of the fashion industry decide to make the current trends? Skinny jeans, white jeans, leggings, jeggings (the ultra flattering combination of a jean and legging) and my go-to favorite the romper. What do all of these things have in common? They are not made for the majority of American women.

According to a 2004 survey entitled SizeUSA, the average American woman is a size 14. I used a survey from 2004 because it was the first one I found and I didn’t feel like searching any further. This isn’t the New York Times people (which coincidentally is where I found that statistic).

Let me reiterate that information for dramatic effect. The average American woman is a size 14. No one who is a size 14 should wear a romper. Well, no one who is over the age of 6 should wear a romper, but that’s a whole other blog entirely.

What a messed up country we live in that some of the biggest fashion trends are also the most unflattering that a plus-sized woman could possibly wear. I use the term “plus-sized” even though it is completely out-of-date. People generally still use the term “plus-sized” for women over a size 8. Nowadays a size 20 would be a more appropriate representation of a woman who is “plus-sized.”

The point that this snarky self-helper is trying to make is that trends are not for everyone. In fact, they’re usually for no one (rompers people, rompers). Your friends aren’t going to tell you that you can’t pull off those white jeggings, but I will. Hey you there. If you’re over a size 6, you can’t pull off white jeggings.

This fact may seem obvious, but if you go walk around Target right this moment (I love Target), you will see plenty of women who didn’t have a friend to tell them that they should never have bought that floral romper.

I’m your only real friend, ladies. You remember that.