15 (More) Things You Should Give Up To Be Happy

There’s a popular article going around of the 15 Things You Should Give Up To Be Happy. Here is a list of 15 more things which, if you give up on them, will make your life a lot easier and much, much happier… snarky style.

1. Give Up The Need to Have Everyone Like You: It is impossible to make everyone like you, but more importantly, it says something about you as a person if you feel the need for everyone to be your friend. Do you not have any of your own feelings or opinions? Because there are times in life when you have to stand up for yourself, and that usually makes an enemy or two along the way. A lot of people are also jerks or idiots. Why do you care if jerks or idiots like you? Are you a jerk or idiot?

2. Give Up Being a Health Nut: I legitimately cannot imagine spending my entire life counting calories and going to the gym 7 days a week. Everything in moderation, blah, blah, blah, but there is a difference between keeping the flab under control and just being a freak about it. Going to the gym doesn’t make you invincible. You can still get hit by a bus. So have a damn cookie and maybe go out for drinks with your friends a couple of those gym nights.

3. Give Up Mean Bitches: We all know there are different types of bitches. I would never suggest giving up a funny bitch or a recreational bitch like myself. Dumb bitches are taken care of in #5 of this list. But mean bitches have got to go… them and their bitch faces.

4. Give Up Crocs: Seriously people. I have never seen an uglier piece of clothing. You might as well wear a sign saying “I’ve given up on myself.”

5. Give Up Dumbasses: Man, people are stupid. I mean, it’s stunning sometimes. And if you have a job where you deal with the general public, it can completely ruin your faith in the future of humanity. So do your best to cut all dumbasses out of your personal life if possible. Your faith in humanity will greatly improve. Well, as long as you also avoid all reality TV and any local or national news.

6. Give Up Your Faith in The Youth of America: Have you seen this? Seriously? WTF?

7. Give Up Whoever You’re Pining Over: Either they’ve never loved you or they don’t love you anymore. Either way, give it up. You look pathetic.

8. Give Up The Idea That Your Childhood Dreams Will Come True: You’re not going to be any of the following: Princess, Astronaut, Cowboy, Race Car Driver, Ballerina or a Lion Tamer. Quite frankly, it was irresponsible of your parents to ever lead you to believe you could be anything you wanted. That’s borderline child abuse right there.

9. Give Up Not Complaining: Life gets annoying. Pretending everything is great all the time and never having a gripe about anything will eventually land you in a looney bin all tied up in a straight jacket, giggling uncontrollably and talking like Ned Flanders. When something is annoying, find a friend and bitch about it. Note: There IS a limit to how much you can bitch about any one subject, so make sure to spice up your bitching. Choose a variety of topics to keep things fresh. The addition of alcohol makes any bitch session better.

10. Give Up Feeling Like You Can’t Say No: People pleasers make me puke. Grow a freaking backbone. You cannot spend your life saying yes to everyone and everything. Well, actually, I take that back. You go ahead and keep doing that because people like me need someone to shove all the crappy duties of life off onto. And if you don’t value yourself enough to take a stance, then I don’t mind walking all over you.

11. Give Up Your Myspace Account: Are you kidding? Who the hell still has a Myspace account? Hold on, let me hit you up on Friendster.

12. Give Up People Who Aren’t Worth Your Time: Friends are fun, but not all friends are forever. Do you have that person who you text all the time, but never replies? After about the 12th time, you can’t pretend it’s your phone malfunctioning. That bitch is ignoring you. You can safely end the friendship knowing you tried your best. And that your former good friend is a bitch face.

13. Give Up Bacon: I’m just kidding. Bacon is delicious. Eat up.

14. Give Up Pants With Writing On The Butt: No. NO! You are either too young, or too old to have “juicy” or “Pink” written across your ass. Either you’re a pre-teen and it’s freaking jail bait, or you’re over 16 and it’s just sad. Quit. You quit that right now.

15. Give Up Trying to Make Social Change on Facebook: No matter how many times you tell me to “re-post” your idiotic status, I’m not going to do it. Mass “awareness” statuses could make me hate the cause of puppies born without eyes if I see the moronic status enough. Oh, and side note: everyone is aware of breast cancer. We can stop having secret coded messages to raise awareness. How about we just start fighting for a cure? The “awareness” is at its peak. Have you ever met someone who didn’t know about breast cancer? Case and point.

So what’s the point that this Snarky Self-Helper is trying to make? Do what I say and no one gets hurt.

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You’re Lucky the Irish Have a Good Sense of Humor

Do you know where the phrase “Luck of the Irish” originated? It began when Irish immigrants started to do well in the U.S. and work their way out of the ghettos. People started saying that it must be the “luck of the Irish” because the Irish were too lazy and stupid to have actually achieved anything on their own. How’d ole Patrick O’SullivanMcFlanagan get that fancy new hoe? Must be luck. Patrick O’RoukeMcKelly couldn’t possible have been smart enough to earn the money to buy it himself, by Blarney!

The Irish have faced a ton of adversity. I bet that sentence made you snicker. It’s true though. But overall, we’re a pretty jovial people. Perhaps it’s the beer and whiskey. Aw… see what I did there? Implying all Irish people are drunks. Horrible, horrible stereotype. The Irish aren’t drunks. We can handle our alochol.

That leads me perfectly into the mess that is St. Patrick’s Day. I have never gotten especially excited about St. Patrick’s Day. The specials they run on the History Channel about the potato famine are more exciting to me than green beer and kegs and eggs.

I actually kind of abhor St. Patrick’s Day. I lock myself up in my apartment and wait for the droves of idiots in green bowler hats and shamrock glasses to stumble back home and out of my favorite, normally quiet, local bar.

They may say “everyone is Irish on St. Patrick’s Day” but they aren’t. Everyone is a drunken idiot on St. Patrick’s Day (and noooooo, that doesn’t describe a normal person of Irish heritage thank you very much). When you really think about it though, it’s slightly offensive to imply – or outright state – that being “Irish” means drinking until you pass out.

We Irish don’t complain nearly as much as we should or could. Well, I’m complaining, but I don’t represent all Irish people. I mean, could you imagine if we celebrated other holidays just by choosing one giant stereotype of that ethnicity and running around saying that, by doing that one giant stereotype, we are now one of those people? Black History Month? Cinco De Mayo? Chinese New Year? Sounds like a Family Guy episode in the making.

What’s the point that this Snarky Self-Helper is trying to make? You’re not Irish on St. Patrick’s Day. If you want to drink, take a lesson from someone with real Irish heritage, just drink whenever you want to. Everyday is St. Patrick’s Day for us. Wait… I think I just perpetuated the stereotype I was trying to fight. Crap. Oh well. Even if you drink a lot, you’ll never be as pale as me. Take that.

Unbelievably Tragic and Amazingly Awesome

I have been known to occasionally overexaggerate things. What can I say? I like to use colorful language. I’m a storyteller at heart really, and I must entertain my audience. But there are times when I step back and realize just how silly most of us are in our word usage.

If something truly amazing ever happened to me I would have to make up a new mega-word to accurately describe the experience. Fantabudupertastic or Stupendabulous or something. When you use the word amazing to describe a deal you just got at Target, it takes a little bit of the power out of the word.

Let’s take a closer look at this theory:

“I just had the most AMAZING sandwich.”

a·maz·ing/əˈmāziNG/

Adjective:
  1. Causing great surprise or wonder; astonishing.
  2. Startlingly impressive.

So you’re saying you just had the most startlingly impressive sandwich that caused you great wonder. Holy crap! Did it have pickles?

“Those shoes are awesome.”

awe·some/ˈôsəm/

Adjective:
  1. Extremely impressive or daunting; inspiring great admiration, apprehension, or fear.
  2. Extremely good; excellent.

If I ever see a daunting pair of shoes that gives me great inspiration, I’ll make sure to Instagram that mess for everyone to see.

These words are just a part of our day-to-day language at this point. Which is fine, I suppose it’s not causing anyone any harm. It is kind of sad when you think about it. I mean, are our lives THAT boring? Perhaps they are. Tragic really.

Tragic. Now there’s a funny word.

trag·ic/ˈtrajik/

Adjective:
  1. Causing or characterized by extreme distress or sorrow.
  2. Suffering extreme distress or sorrow.

People don’t technically misuse the word, they’re just idiots. If the death of a drug addicted billionaire who you’ve never met causes you extreme sorrow, you need to check yourself. Psssst! There are children starving to death all over the world without anyone giving a flying crap. A singer who had every resource possible and still chose to “crack” themselves to death isn’t tragic. At the very most it should conjur an “aw, shucks.”

So what’s the point that this Snarky Self-Helper is trying to make? You’re all unbelievably, stunningly, profoundly and intensely overexaggerating everything. Drama queens. I would never do something like that.

Selective Feminism

Well, everyone (mainly ladies and gay men – my two main demographics), tomorrow is Valentine’s Day. An amazing day to celebrate love with your special someone (and then post all about it on Facebook in an attempt to make everyone jealous). AKA a day for single people to loudly declare how much they love their independence while crying into a heart-shaped box of chocolates they bought themselves.  All around, a super fake, all for appearances holiday… that can make or break a relationship.

I know I’ve been giving my man a lot of crap. I believe very strongly that planning Valentine’s Day is a man’s job. And he better do it right, damn it. You may be asking: If Valentine’s Day is so important, couldn’t you plan it yourself? Shut your filthy mouth, that’s crazy feminist talk! Wait a second… I am a feminist. Or am I?

I think women should have all the same rights as men, but still be  allowed on the lifeboat first when the ship is sinking. That’s just common courtesy, damn it.

I was leaving a Piada the other day (side note: how freaking delicious is Piada?) as some guy was walking in. I was only a couple steps from the door, when the guy walked in. You hear me? He walked IN. And the door closed behind him. Excuse me? I was like three steps away. Why I do declare!

Now I don’t know if I expected him to hold the door for me because that’s basic manners, or if I expected him to hold the door because I’m a woman. I did have to stop and wonder if a man in the same situation would have thought twice about it. I, on the other hand, was greatly offended. “I bet that dude never gets laid” may have been a thought that crossed through my mind.I mean, obviously he has zero social skills and is just a pathetic loser for not holding the door for me. Evil little troll man.

I expect men to dispose of scary bugs, carry heavy things and hold doors open for me. However, I don’t think women should be barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen. So am I still a feminist? Or am I some sort of selective feminist? A feminist when it’s convenient for me? I’m not sure.

There are times when it feels like a lose/lose situation. Saying you’re a feminist scares the crap out of people. I mean, I like wearing a bra and shaving. But those of us who consider ourselves “strong, independent women” (dare I say… feminists) also feel really pathetic when we expect men to do things like open doors. Makes me feel like I’m going to lose my “strong woman” card and have to start carrying a chihuahua around in a bag* and change my name to something that ends in an “i”.

What’s the point that this snarky self-helper is trying to make? Women shouldn’t be afraid to be honest with themselves. You know the idea of a man paying for dinner AND the movie, opening your car door and then killing a big-ass spider sounds like the perfect night. It’s okay. Even if you’ve thought this, you still deserve equal pay for equal work and the right to vote. And you can love pink and sparkles and still be a bad-ass feminist. Deal with it dudes.

* Turns out you cannot be a feminist and carry a small dog around in a bag. Goes completely against nature.

New Year, Same You

Well people, it’s almost the start of another new year. That means most of you will have failed your New Year’s resolution by this time next week. Don’t feel bad, your resolution is completely unrealistic anyway. Failing at a resolution is really just succeeding at knowing yourself. And most self-help gurus will tell you that knowing yourself is the first step to self-improvement. So make “know myself better” a resolution and BAM. You’ve got one. That’s 100% more than most people.

When you think about it, the New Year is just setting us up to fail. Keeping a New Year’s resolution would be like keeping Christmas cheer all year long, dressing as a slutty vampire everyday or continuously being drunk on green beer and whiskey… well… the first two are ridiculous at least.

And excuuuuuuuuse me, Baby New Year, but I don’t think you have any business telling me to lose weight. I’ve seen you in a diaper and you’re not exactly rocking a six pack.

If people really wanted to exercise more and quit smoking they’d do it when the days are longer and they aren’t already wallowing in the haze of seasonal affect disorder. Vitamin D supplements my butt. No pill is going to make you feel better about it being pitch black at 5pm.

So what’s the point that this snarky self-helper is trying to make? If you want to improve yourself, do it in a few months. It’s too cold outside to train for a marathon or spend more time with your kids now anyway.

Bitch Theory

The biggest bitches I’ve ever met all have one thing in common. They’ve called me a bitch. To my face.

They usually try to mask it as a joke. “OMG you are such a bitch!” Well, guess what? You just out bitched a bitch. Congrats.

Obviously I know I’m a bitch. But I like to think of myself as a funny bitch. A bitch that is bitchy for amusement purposes. A recreational bitch, if you will.  I was raised right. I talk about people behind their backs.

Mean bitches are the ones who make people feel bad on purpose or just don’t care how they make you feel. The ones whose mere mention makes people roll their eyes and regale you with stories about their bitchiness. I, on the other hand, accidentally hurt people’s feelings while attempting to be funny. Then I feel bad about it. That’s right. Bitches have feelings too. Well, the funny bitches do anyway. I can only assume that making people feel bad is where the mean bitches get their evil bitch powers.

Nice people tell me I’m bitchy, but they use code words. They tell me I’m funny, witty, sassy, sarcastic and – dare I say – snarky. Because a nice person would never call someone a bitch to their face. They may think it, but then they smile, suppress their feelings and develop an ulcer.

Here’s a quick rundown of some of the most common types of bitches:

Mean Bitches: They’ve got that bitch face. You know the one. You meet them for the first time and they greet you with a disapproving snort. They stand in the corner and talk about you where you can see them. All the while constantly glancing at you as they’re doing it.

Funny Bitches: They’re sarcastic smart-asses, but they never just turn to you and tell you why you suck. They don’t pretend to love things that they don’t and they will crush everything you love, but they don’t attack you personally. And that counts for something, right?

Dumb Bitches: This is probably the most common form of bitch. They’re the Kim Kardashians and Paris Hiltons of the world. They’re mean, but too stupid to actually form a real insult. Generally speaking they’re super skinny with really rich daddies. You could almost name them the “default bitch” cause they were never given a chance to be any other way. This type of bitch will only make you feel bad when you stop and think about how their lives disprove any chance of karma being a thing.

Secret Bitches: Watch out for these. They seem perky and peppy. They are usually petite little things that love cute kitten videos and babies. They have high voices and small chests. But listen closely. Did you hear what that bitch just said? If she weren’t so upbeat I would think she was serious! Here’s the thing. She is serious. That bitch just gets away with it because she’s so damn bubbly.*

So what’s the point that this snarky self-helper is trying to make? Don’t lump all bitches together. Some of us are just trying to be funny and can’t hide our hatred for the show Glee. We don’t all want to make you cry into your pillow at night.

* Dumb Bitches and Secret Bitches are often one and the same. An especially lethal combination and mortal enemy of the Funny Bitch.

Why Black Friday is Scarier Than The Walking Dead

We all know the familiar scene. Bloodthirsty, heartless, brain-dead drones attacking helpless victims en masse.  Little did that victim know that he would soon be slashed – price slashed – and consumed by a violent mob. That poor, innocent Xbox never saw it coming.

But, seriously. Have you ever watched a zombie movie or TV show and wondered just how they really took over EVERYTHING. I can see a zombie virus taking out a hospital staff quickly or running through a little town in Podunkville, USA, but the entire Military? That slow walking corpse took out the whole police force? Even the less common and ridiculous marathon runner zombies seen in movies like 28 Days Later should be defeatable be a whole police squad, right? Those men are trained to stay cool and calm and handle these kinds of situations. Oh… wait…

And before you Walking Dead fans say anything, yes, I call them zombies. You know why? Because they’re zombies. The fact that they refuse to ever use the word “zombie” is the least realistic part of the whole show. Are we to believe these people never saw a zombie movie in their entire lives? Come on! The dead coming back to eat the living? Yeah, sure. But a world without the word zombie? Homey don’t buy that.

Just get a few hundred people together for a mediocre deal and you can easily see why we will all eventually die in a zombie apocalypse. After hearing some of the stories of Black Friday 2011 I’m not totally convinced that there aren’t a few of the infected already out there.

Police pepper spraying shoppers, shoppers pepper spraying shoppers, pepper spray policing shoppers, dogs hugging kittens; it’s all a sign that we’re going down.

If a cop can’t even handle some housewives with too much time and not enough money, there is no way they’re going to calmly obliterate a zombie hoard.

And there is always that one character in the group of survivors that starts out okay, but has the crazy eye. You know the one. You see him and think “that boy ain’t right” (or “something is amiss with that young man” – individual thoughts depend on your level of hillbilly). But then that guy goes totally nuts and kills a bunch of people. Well, it would seem, based on Black Friday, that it should really be everyone just running around shooting each other in the neck.

People on TV calmly band together and find antibiotics for their friends. People in real life face palm their grandmother to get $100 off an HDTV. Which is scarier?

So what’s the point that this snarky self-helper is trying to make? If the world gets taken over by zombies, we’re all screwed. I’m talking I Am Legend even-the-dog-gets-it kind of screwed. Not Night of the Living Dead One-bad-night-and-then-we’re-playing-hit-the-zombie-with-a-rock-in-the-backyard style screwed.

What’s that? You didn’t need me to tell you that? You better hope I don’t become a zombie or I’m gonna crazy zombie bite you so hard…