Obama Can't Ball

After all I've done for the democratic party, this is how they repay me. I recently switched my allegiance from no one in particular to the democratic party, so I would be able to vote in this year's primary. I finally came to a decision about who I wanted to vote for. And, as much as it pains the feminist in me to say it, I gotta go with Obama.

That is, until I saw this. In my home state. You're going to come to my home state and bowl a 37. 37!! Seriously, come on. That is just awful. Great bowlers can get nearly that much in three frames. If only he had come to our bowling alley, we could have helped him out. But, bowling a 37 is shameful. My nephew, when he was two years old, could bowl better than that. Duder, when you put on the shoes, and pick up that ball, you gotta bring it.

I can deal with lying about snipers, I can deal with blowjobs in the oval office and alleged cocaine use. What I can not abide is a bad bowler. So, Barrack, step it up, or we might have problems. Next time, come a little further east, and we can show you how to bowl the right way. Or, try it with two hands.

How Do I Pick?

To honor Mr. Fred Roger's 80th birthday, Mr. McFeely wants us all to don our favorite sweaters to honor the memory of the man who rocked a cardigan like no other. This poses a conundrum for me, as I own quite a few fine cardigans. But, which ever one you choose to wear today, take time out to think about the man who probably touched your life as much as he touched mine. I used to think that Mr. Rogers could hear me through the television. I loved him.

So, I think maybe I'll go with a classic today, my o.g. sweater if you will. $5 at a thrift store, and despite some wear and tear, it still makes me feel neighborly. Won't you join me?

Lot in Life

Sometimes, we women have to put up with a lot to be with the man we love. Recently, Greazy came to me and announced that he wanted Direct TV, so he could watch Australian Rules Football. A perfectly normal request around these parts, I assure you. I balked at first. After all, we were comfy with Comcast, even though the bastards charge an arm and a leg. But, he convinced me. So, I am sitting at the computer right now while the transformation is taking place.

Greazy is spoiled, you see. He gets what he wants 99% of the time. Playstations, trips with buddies, poker/fantasy football drafts in my basement, albums featuring WWF stars. Sometimes, I worry that my boy doesn't know the meaning of no.

But, then I realize that he makes me laugh, he loves me and often buys me presents as well. And he has never made me stand by his side whilst confessing to whore-seeing or intern-fucking or I'm-a-gay-Governor. So, I guess I should consider myself lucky. Because in the grand scheme of things, having to learn new channel numbers isn't that much of a big deal.

*Sidebar - I typed a few things into google images to find a picture for this post, and it asked me "Did you mean wife honoring husband?" No, I typed humoring, dumb-ass sexist search engine.

Catharsis for Fun and Profit

Look around your house right now. How much of what surrounds you is stuff you actually like, need or want? It sounds like a stupid question. I mean, who doesn't want their own stuff. But, since I've started weeding out all the crap from my life, it has become clear to me that there is only so much stuff one needs. I'm sure at the time everything I've bought seemed like a good idea. But, right now, I'm looking at an ever-growing pile of yard sale items, and wondering why some of it was ever purchased. Some are gifts from others, some of it was impulse. But the bottom line is, it is all useless to me at this moment.

I'm hoping that I can find some worthy souls to take this stuff off my hands. I'm sure someone out there needs an ironing board, or seat cushions, or Spongebob Uno. But, it's not me. I actually am one of those people who enjoy cleaning and getting rid of stuff. It is so soothing to me. It truly helps me de-stress to toss things out, clean them up and get rid of them. In fact if any of those clean-em-up shows need a new face, let me know. I would love it. I think Neecy and I would make a great team. Until then, I'm here, dear friends, if you need someone to help you clear out. I promise, I'll be gentle.

Lying Liars

Another day, another lying author. It is amazing to me how these people get editors and publishers to buy their stories, most of the time for big bucks. If that isn't enough, the book comes out to huge fanfare. Hell, you may even get yourself on Oprah. Then, after one person does a little digging, the public finds out the book is made up of lies. James Frey and JT Leroy are just a few names in the long list of people who got paid big bucks to tell their stories. In most cases, heart-wrenching, tragic and amazing stories. Problem is, they are all full of shit. Hell, JT Leroy isn't even who he/she says he is.

I don't know why we are so surprised. Hell, I lie all the time. We all do. And, it seems the only way you can get people to pay attention to you is to lie. Football coaches, Food Network stars and the guy in the next cube have all lied on their resumes. Hell, I have. So, if we all do it, then why do we expect so much truth from everyone else? I'll be the first to admit, that if someone says their book is a true story, I'm more than a little skeptical. Come on, Augusten Burroughs. I'm not buying it. There is no way that some of those crazy things that "happened" to you aren't a little made up. I don't know anyone whose life is as over-the-top crazy and interesting as these books make them out to be. I'm sure those people are out there, but they are not as plentiful as they appear to be.

I guess my real question is; why do these people feel they have to lie at all? Why is the publishing industry only interested in damaged and flawed people who've struggled against all odds to succeed? Those stories are great, but most often fiction. If these are the standards that people need to meet to write a memoir, no wonder people lie. And, come on Food Network. The guy did a good job. So he lied to get in the door. Isn't it just as much your fault for requiring people to be larger than life, as it is for this guy pretending to be so? I think expectations are just too damn high for everyone. You can't lie, you can do drugs, you can't change your mind, you can't offend anyone, you can't be sexual, you can't be fat, you can't have flaws. Who can live up to these standards? And, more importantly, who would want to.

So, ease up, everyone. We're all just humans. Lying is part of who we are, no one is immune. Next time, check a little harder before you send that manuscript to the printer.

Jesus!

*Duder, we've all been there, but just break your leg, it's easier.

*This would totally be me.