This may or may not be a review session


So, every once in a while this blog, like many blogs, gets a spike of traffic, and I try to remind myself to make a post welcoming all these new readers and putting my best foot forward and showing them how awesome I am right off the bat to entice them to stick around, but I’ve never actually managed to do that and instead end up posting about how I was trying to fall asleep between the sleeping dog and the sleeping Phil and they kept taking turns sleep farting, and my traffic goes back to normal.

That sleep farting thing was just an example of the kind of post I’d write, but it really did happen last night and it was seriously gross and also hilarious.

This blog has picked up a new reader or three over the last two… years. I don’t have an about page, or any links to my favorite posts or anything that gives you any indication at all of what you’re dealing with here, so I have put together this handy sheet of information for you.

Things You May or May Not Have Known About Me but Even if You Did Know, You Should Keep in Mind in Case I Win the Lottery and Start Doing Tons of Giveaways Based on Who Demonstrates the Highest Degree of Creepy Admiration by Rattling off Obscure and Uninteresting Facts About Me.
a list, by TJ

1. First, you should know that I am female, and I am 27. I am very shortly to be 28. That little about me section over to the right will likely continue to say that I am 27 for a very long time. People will make clever comments along the lines of “Oh ho ho, TJ, you have been 28 for 6 whole hours and your blog still says you are 27! I demand you change it!” I will ignore these people, the same way I ignore people who say “Oh ho ho, don’t you mean FIANCE?” whenever I refer to Phil as my boyfriend. Because, come on. Shut up.

2. Phil is my fiance. I met him because he started reading this blog and he sent me an email about how awesome I am. Actually, he sent me a bunch of them. I ignored him for a year, and then we got engaged. Isn’t life funny? Take a lesson here, kids: Internet stalking will pay off if you just KEEP AT IT.

3. I quit smoking 2 months ago. You don’t really need to know that, but I am still extremely aware of that fact. So it was hard to leave it out of this list.

4. I have a sister who wasn’t supposed to know about this blog, but hunted it down and kept the fact that she was reading it a secret for a long time. I caught her when the public library in our hometown popped up in my webstats. She sometimes comments here under the clever handle of “sister.” No one has really picked up on that fact yet.

5. Here is a list of some of my favorite things I have ever written on this blog to cover up the fact that I can’t think of a fifth fact about myself and am feeling really super pathetic about it, and also you should know that the reason it appears that I have written most of my favorite things in the most recent months is because even I don’t want to read that far back in my archives:

    And that, Internet, is all you need to know about that.

    November 21, post-buffet


    “Can I have that yellow pick up truck? It’s for sale.”

    “Sure.”

    “Really?!?”

    “Yep. Just find a way to finish the payments on your car, get rid of your car, and increase your income enough to pay for the payments on the yellow pick up truck.”

    “Why do you spend so much of every day coming up with ways to make me want to punch you in the balls?”

    I didn’t study for this and I’m suddenly naked!


    Ok, Internet, with what I’m going to talk about today, I’m just going to cut you off at the pass right from the start to remove the possibility of getting comments of a certain type that I REALLY hate (and I am also telling you now that to make them anyway will not be NEARLY as clever and funny as you think it would be, because while normally being directly defiant of given instructions or requests is clever and unique and funny and completely original and oh my gosh no one has ever thought of doing that before, today it won’t be. Also, that was sarcasm. It is NEVER any of those things).

    Anyway, this isn’t even directed at you, Internet. I mean, it is directed at the INTERNET, but not my Internet, you know, standard Internet. This is directed at potential passers by who aren’t familiar with the level of awesomeness required to be a commenter here. Specifically, it is for the future un-awesome passersby, who seem to leave comments of this type on ancient posts, long past when it’s worth reopening the discussion, but not so long past that I am not supremely tempted to send unreasonably rude emails in response.

    Ok, so here is what I am cutting you off from: Today, I am going to talk about wedding dresses. Now, we all know that the wedding industry and other media and folklore-ish sources would purport that all little girls have planned their wedding their whole lives. I am not assuming that is true.

    Do you hear that? I am not assuming that because you are female, you’ve always had your dream wedding in mind.

    So that means that the comment you want to write, future un-awesome passer by? The one you were going to start off all snottily with, “Actually, I’m a girl and blah blah blah?” It doesn’t apply. Because I’m not assuming that you’ve planned your wedding your whole life. You might have. You might not have.

    Look, I understand that you, future un-awesome passer-by, are totally not the typical girl. And that you like video games and cars and are deeply offended by the idea that when you skimmed this post and totally missed the point? It looked like I was saying you planned your future wedding your whole life. And you feel like I NEED TO KNOW that you have a vagina AND are not exactly like every single other woman on the planet.

    I get it. You’re practically Fergie, what with that complex personality you’ve got going on. Just, you know, spare me from the declarations of what a unique and special snowflake you are and save it for the 6 men in this world suffering from that unique disease that makes them believe they’re actually living in the 1950s and will actually be impressed with how novel you are.

    Anyway, so as I was saying, I’m planning this wedding, you know? And I’ve got the place and I’ve got the DJ and I’ve got the photographer, which are pretty much the big pieces, at least the ones that need to be booked by now to make sure that they’re available for my chosen date.

    Now, apparently, looking at all the wedding checklists and such, I am supposed to be dress shopping right now. I mean like, now. As we speak. I’m behind and I’m failing at wedding. However, I am not going to make it to Pennsylvania for Christmas this year, for the first time in my life, and that had been when we were planning on going dress shopping. I’m going to try to get out there early next year, but in the mean time, I suppose I should at least be thinking about what kind of dress I’d like. Because it’s not like Scranton, PA is a hotbed of bridal fashions.

    Except, when I try to picture what my dress is “supposed” to look like, I have a complete blank. I haven’t been imagining my wedding my whole life! I mostly imagined I’d die old and alone with cats that would eventually eat off my face when I died in my recliner in front of Murder She Wrote, which will conveniently still be in syndaction somewhere, because there are always going to be old people, thus, always a market.

    There are about, oh, I don’t know, 6 billion different options. So far, I am pretty sure I’ve settled on a color.

    I’m gonna go with the white.

    Other than that? Oh my god, Internet, help me. Straps? No straps? Those little cute shoulder thingies? Do you like this one? How about this jobber? You can’t say you like both, they’re COMPLETELY DIFFERENT. What kind of dress will minimize… everything? Except also make me look really tall without me having to wear heels?

    Are people going to laugh at me if I wear white? (I would!)

    Actually, this isn’t really a question so much about what kind of dress you like (though if you’ve met me and have a suggestion for what would make my particular lumpy-in-awkward-places body look all kinds of amazing, I’D SO APPRECIATE IT), but more about decision making.

    If you’ve got to make a decision, and suddenly realize that not only do you have nothing in mind, but the options are so unbelievably numerous and varied, how do you even go about getting started? I’m suffering from that “too many choices so I’ll just sit here paralyzed” syndrome that I am totally going to submit to medical journals for notoriety and fame in the academic world, as I so richly deserve, because come ON, have you even heard my Tom Hanks Theory? Because that is amazing.

    When you have 6 billion choices and no clue how to start… how do you start?

    (To be clear, you do not have to feel obligated to help me choose a wedding dress, but can instead address the general decision making process.)

    You’re still busy, I’ve still got time.


    fergiecosmo

    So, Internet, just like last month (actually, it wasn’t a whole month ago because I did it totally late in the month because Phil had my Cosmo in the bathroom), I have here the newest issue of Cosmo for you.

    You’re busy people, with jobs and kids and lives, and even Cosmo doesn’t think that you have time to read Cosmo, judging by the page in every issue that sums it up for you so that you don’t have to read that whole thing.

    But me, I’m always thinking, and I was even more concerned for you, so I thought, what if you don’t even have time to BUY Cosmo? And that is why I am summing it up for you.

    Like last month, I’m just going to turn pages until I come so something interesting. Let’s all just assume there’s 85 pages of advertisements in between.

    First of all, we get right to the story about our cover girl, Fergie. Here’s what stood out to me, in the Fergie article:

    “You know, in Italy, Catholic boys are raised to believe that there are two types of women: the Madonna and the whore. … And me? I’m both.”

    You don’t say, Fergie! You mean, you have like, at least two sides to you? Depth of character? Sometimes you feel one way and other times you feel another way? And you don’t always act the exact same way every single day? Goddamn Fergie, you’ve done it again, giving us ordinary, one-dimensional females something to shoot for. Ladies, we too can have more than one aspect to our personalities!! Thank you, Fergie!

    Moving on, this Etsee Lauder ad for Sensuous perfume one, doesn’t smell like magazine pages, and two, isn’t actually half bad and my birthday is in 17 days, just saying.

    Next, a one-sheet article on why taken men seem sexier. Oh, I know this one! Because you’re either a whore, like half of Fergie is, or you’re human, and naturally want what you can’t have! Man, if Cosmo was a test on common sense, I would totally win this magazine.

    NEWS: Rhianna has changed her hair a bunch of times over her career. So… do what you will with that. Because… yeah.

    Hidden Secrets His Hug Reveals. Didn’t we go over this last month, when I told you that no guy is communicating his true feelings by unconsciously forming his hands into the sign language for “I love you?” Yeah, pretty much the same thing. When Phil hugs me, the type of hug is usually dictated by how easily he can reach my boobs.

    Instructions on how to turn a one night stand into a relationship? I’m skipping this page for you, Internet. You need to be more like Fergie and stop being 100% whore. She’s only 50% whore, you know.

    Fashion section! Let’s see, this month we have… me turning pages really quickly because don’t, oh god don’t, I mean, if you want to wear a blazer, go ahead, but it should not look like any of these. Also? Tight fitting animal print dresses, with very few exceptions, make you look like Fergie’s bad 50%. Also? The whole “Perfect Presents” fashion page? You can buy pretty much all of it on Etsy, so if I catch you paying $32 for stripedey gloves, you’re banned.

    Some tips: Holding your phone next to your face all the time will make it break out; Cosmo suggests that to save time, you smudge eye pencil instead of eyeshadow and somehow manage to not look like a battered raccoon late for an AA meeting; also, don’t pick off your nail polish, because it makes you look trashy, and Cosmo doesn’t want you to be seen holding their magazine because it’s ruining their image. I don’t want to have to do this, but it’s directed specifically to you. Yeah, you. Sorry. Cosmo isn’t really thrilled with you lately.

    Big article here – Make His #1 Sex Wish Come True! TJ Cliff notes – I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say that having sex with him should pretty much be enough. If you feel like you need to go for extra points, turn on the lights or something. I’m sure he’ll be pleased.

    God, this stuff is stupid. I mean, ok, sorry, taking a break for a second here, but how about we all just agree to this? We’ll all go home today and say “Hey, honey, do you have a #1 sex wish, after you filter out all the stuff that is illegal or might make me want to leave you if you say it out loud? Ok, let’s do that.” Damn.

    Now here’s a special section, the Guy Love Diaries. They had some guys write down all of their thoughts about their women for some days. I pretty much stopped taking it seriously on the first page of the article, because I read this 3 or 4 days ago and just stopped laughing when they threatened to insert a feeding tube:

    “At work, thinking about Sara. When girls get together at showers and bachelorette parties, they usually talk about boys and swap sex techniques. Sara always comes back with new sex tricks and great fellatio.”

    I’ll wait until you get yourself under control after reading that.

    First, um, men? If you truly think that? I… ah… no. Just… no. Second? Paul, writer of this secret diary? If you are reading this, I suggest you tail Sara the next time she goes “out with the girls” because if she’s coming home with a rack of new sex techniques, she’s not at a goddamn bridal shower. Because just no.

    Cosmo wants you to know that they’ve declared it to be officially okay for women to pick up men now, but only if you do it in a bold, daring way like they detail in this article. Walking up, introducing yourself and asking for a number isn’t going to cut it. God, stop being so simple and plain, Internet. Take a lesson from Fergie, who has managed to develop two different parts to her personality.

    The Simple Trick That Gets You What You Want – I’m not being fooled into reading this… STEALTH OPRAH. How about work for it? Ok. End. God, this magazine could be like, 6 pages long and I wouldn’t have to do Cliff’s Notes because you could read the whole damn thing in line at the grocery store.

    More tips: Save money by NOT having your hair professionally blow dried! Or by shopping holiday sales! Also? If you just magically become less stressed, you’ll be less bitchy. Apparently, Collegehumor.com will help you be less stressed, thus less of a fucking bitch.

    Ok, here’s something good. A huge article on the Hidden Danger of Breakups. Thinking about this from a Cosmo/Bridget Jones type angle, the hidden break up danger they probably really want to tell us about, judging by the rest of the magazine, is that if you let yourself go all to hell and don’t buy $32 stripedy gloves or sequined miniskirts, your man will probably leave you and you’re not getting any younger, so you’ll probably be old and alone forever and the entire purpose of Cosmo is to make sure YOU LAND AND KEEP THAT MAN!!! So, don’t make Cosmo out to look like a fool by getting dumped, because Cosmo doesn’t LIKE to be made to look like a fool, if you get my drift.

    Cosmo doesn’t. Like. That.

    Oh, but apparently, the article is really about how if you break up with a guy, you should probably suspect that he’s about to kill you because that’s what happens according to Cosmo.

    If you make them look like a FOOL.

    Hey, here’s something actually KIND of good, but I’m only judging it by the title because I don’t want to be disappointed by the article. From the headline and pictures, I’m gonna say that Cosmo agrees with me and thinks that just because you put your M&Ms in color order and put your shoes on right shoe first, it doesn’t mean you have OCD. I mean, some people certainly do have OCD. But it’s pretty likely that you don’t. And you’re just like everyone else who does certain things in certain order because we have been on this earth for like, 20, 30, 40 or more years and we develop HABITS. Not OCD. Get over yourself. Unless you have OCD. Then carry on with your bad M&M counting self.

    Aaand I think pretty much the last thing you need to know from this month’s Cosmo is that this winter? We’re all wearing butt cheek showing lingerie outside, especially into dark alleys. That, apparently, is the December fashion.

    Do NOT disappoint Cosmo.

    Attempting to unfold myself.


    Internet, even though I live here and am practically made up of Internet myself, sometimes, I find the Internet to be just crushingly horrible.

    I mean that I sometimes feel like I’m actually stooped forward in my chair, with my spine all crackly from the weight of how heavily the Internet is just trying to crush me up into a little ball.

    Lately, I am feeling extra Internet-squished. Phil comes home from work and I feel like a floppy, flailing excuse of a person, with nothing to say to him except rambling, punctuation-free diatribes on what I’ve seen on the Internet that day, with alternating levels of disbelief and/or rage and/or unhappiness. And then I lay in a useless heap.

    So there are liars, who continue to lie even in the face of overwhelming evidence calling them out, which I just can’t understand, because goddamnit, just come clean. Being lied to is infuriating, especially when it comes along with the “how dare you question me!” attitude that is so often present with Internet lying. Oh, I dare. I DARE.

    Then there’s the now “retracted, sorry, didn’t actually happen, my bad” story about someone hurting their dog, which I couldn’t look away from but also couldn’t stand and had to let the dog sleep in the bed that night. And today, a blogger has had a sudden stroke, so Twitter streams and feedreaders are full of news and updates and sadness.

    And just yesterday, Phil and I were talking about how I ignored him for a year, but now that he sits in the same office with me and sees what I sometimes deal with – people writing mean shit about me that I have to pretend to ignore, and the sense of entitlement that a very small but very vocal segment of my readers enjoys exhibiting, or the frustration of dealing with the Internet’s assumption that it actually knows me, or the weird feeling of obligation to answer every email and comment in a cheerful fashion – he now understands a little better why I used to blow him off so much.

    And we can’t forget how regularly the Internet likes to remind us of how outright mean women like, truly like, to be to other women, in a schoolyard bully, gang-up type mentality.

    Anyway, Internet, sometimes, I admit it – at the end of a day of working while finding time to respond to comments and emails and write posts and talk with people on Twitter and do other things I’ve promised someone I’d somehow manage to get done, I am all “ENOUGH INTERNET I HAVE HAD ENOUGH CAN’T YOU JUST BE NORMAL FOR ONE DAY!”

    But! As severe as the permanent Internet-curve in my spine is getting, it is equally difficult to overlook some of the comparably spectacular awesomeness that comes out of the Internet.

    First of all? The people who comment here are freakin’ hilarious. Once Phil gets home from work, I read him comments pretty much all night, as they come in. We think y’all are funny.

    Secondly? The Internet finds things for you. Thanks to luxiia’s comment a week or so back, I actually have a wedding photographer, and I am very excited about them. Here’s their blog, if you want to check them out. Which you should. Because they’re awesome.

    Thirdly? I suppose I can’t totally overlook the fact that I have a Phil.

    Fourthly? I got to go see Hank Green last night, and I wouldn’t even know who he was without the Internet, and of course, we cannot forget this, from Hank’s brother John, either.

    So, maybe you see my dilemma, Internet. It’s impossible to avoid all of the aforementioned Internet negatives, the ones that have made me a half inch shorter than I was at this time last year, because they are so ridiculously intertwined with the good things. I wouldn’t have funny commenters without also taking on the entitled know it alls. You wouldn’t be able to see such fantastic examples of women supporting women without watching women tear other women down. You wouldn’t be able to enjoy seriously talented writers without wading through some lying wannabes.

    You know, you’d think that I had some kind of uplifting conclusion to this post, about how the good finally does outweigh the bad, or asking you for your own stories about Internet crappiness versus Internet redemption, but you’d think wrong. They’re just barely balancing each other out right now, and I’m not really in the mood to speak highly of the Internet.

    How about you come up with an applicable question calling for your own thoughts or experiences that I’d normally put here, and we’ll all just answer each others (don’t ask ME a question. Ask yourself the question that I should have asked you here, if I were in the state of mind to come up with a proper post conclusion, which I am not, unless I can somehow relate it to the episode of Full House I am watching, and while I am normally pretty good at relating just about anything and everything to an episode of Full House, it doesn’t seem to be happening today). In the meantime, I will sit here and recover from crushing Internet overdose before I am folded in half.

    November 16, doomed from the start


    “It seems like NaBloPoMo is becoming basically me talking about what an asshole I am. Got any ideas for me to write about all the terrible ways I annoy you?”

    “Not really, no.”

    “Oh, yeah, right!”

    “Well… you know how every time I stand up, you ask me to get you a diet soda? How you’ll sit without a diet soda for like, an hour, just so you can ask me for one as soon as I stand up? That’s kind of annoying.”

    Excuse me?”

    *5 minutes later*

    “So really, it’s because I’m trying to prevent global warming. You’re WELCOME.”

    “I think your logic is flawed there.”

    “I think your concern for the environment is flawed.

    *5 minutes later*

    “I can’t believe you!”

    “I did not call you Pre-Subway Fat Jared!”

    “Whatever. Should I roll myself out of the car or are you going to drag up a RAMP?”

    Just Say No to Surprise Gap


    Internet, when I am trying to make sense of the world, or tell you one of my many theories on life, I often start off by saying, “There are two types of people in the world.” Either you are like me in some particular way, or you aren’t. One of those things is correct, and one of them is utterly incomprehensible.

    Today, we are talking about surprises. There are two kinds of people in the world – the kind who announce surprises in advance, and the kind who do things correctly.

    I am going to go so far as to say I would like to see a law enacted on this topic, that is how strongly I feel about it.

    As you may have guessed, I live in a house divided on this issue.

    Phil, you see, enjoys calling, texting or emailing me to say “I got you a present,” or “I have a surprise for you.”

    Now, as someone who knows the correct procedure for such situations, I say, “What is it?,” fully expecting to be told.

    Because if you ANNOUNCE that you have a surprise, you need to be prepared to tell me what it is immediately.

    Otherwise, why would you even SAY that you have a surprise? Why would you say that you have something for me and not tell me what it is? If you intend to give it to me, announce its existence as you hand it to me! Why would you tell me it exists hours before I actually get to find out what it is? Have we met? Have you mistaken me for someone with patience?

    There are the people, like Phil, who announce that they know a secret, have a surprise, got you a present or any other similar thing, knowing full well that they have NO INTENTION of revealing what they know until some point later in time.

    Then there are the people, like me, who understand how to handle surprises and presents correctly. You don’t say that you have a secret, surprise, or present until you are ready to reveal it.

    Or, alternatively, you can announce that you have a surprise or present coming at a later date, and then immediately blurt out what it is, thus removing the “surprise” element from the situation. That… is pretty much the way I usually end up doing things.

    I don’t understand you people, you others, who insist on a gap between the announcement that you have some item or information and the actual handing over or telling of some item or information.

    What you are creating, really, when you do such a thing, is the Surprise Gap. The Surprise Gap occurs when one person reveals that they have or know something, and indicates a period of time when what they have or know will be revealed to all. The time in between the announcing and the designated time is the Surprise Gap.

    Is there anyone in this world that ENJOYS living within the Surprise Gap?

    I am willing to allow that there are such people, people who revel in the Surprise Gap, because I am not completely closed minded.

    However, those people are wrong.

    Internet, I am calling for the elimination of the Surprise Gap.

    This is my proposal:

    Surprise Gaps are not to exceed a unit of time bigger than what could be called a “moment,” to allow for the actual handing over of the surprise, or, in the case of information and secrets, time enough to allow the teller a dramatic pause for effect.

    Any Surprise Gaps exceeding the allowed length of time will be punished with a continual and unending “Tell me. Tell me. Tell me. Tell me. Tell me.,” until the creator of the Surprise Gap cracks and gives in.

    Internet, do your part – Just Say No to Surprise Gap.