<body> YOU: On My Blog <body>
Friday, December 28, 2007

I wasn't planning on plumbing the holiday card depths any further, but when you get an email chock full of material, you can't just turn it down. Besides, after reading Blackwater's beautiful card loaded with Christy goodness.


It's important that they named the Lord Christ in the last paragraph because I know everyone was confused about just which Lord Christ was born in Bethlehem. May the Lord Jesus bless their mercenary hearts and fill you with pure civilian-killing love.

In a similar spirit, Jack and Nate would like to wish you a Merry Christmas, a Happy Hanukkah, and a peaceful New Year OR THEY WILL BEAT EACH OTHER MERCILESSLY WITH WIFFLEBALL BATS!


I think it's high time we sent Jack and Nate to the middle east to do some conflict resolution. They'd fit right in.

Someone needs to call the SPCA because people are out of control with their pets. Look into these dogs' eyes and tell me animals don't have souls and can't experience emotional or psychological trauma.

Tell me again, Sadie, why haven't we killed them in their sleep yet?

I did not get rescued from dog racing for this shit.

We'd rather be water boarded.

Strap yourselves in tight, folks, because shit is about to get surreal. More surreal than that scene in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory where Gene Wilder started singing on that boat and shit started spinning and subliminal images of spiders and loose limbs were flashing all over the place.

Ever wonder what happens when someone from Burning Man decides to make a holiday card?

I'm gonna go out on a limb and say I think Jesus would have had cleaner socks. Also, I don't think a holiday card should evoke the smell patchouli and balls.

Now, I believe this one was intended to be funny
. In fact, it seemed to have required quite a bit of work to make, and as you can tell, the lasting effect is confusion, not hilarity.

And with that, let us look to 2008 to provide us with a bounty of bad holiday taste once more.

Big ups to Karolina for spotting these finds!
Blackwater source

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Like this, but with words.

If you ever feel the need to listen to conversations that make your ears bleed in two perfectly symmetrical, slow dribbles from either side of your face, drop by M. Rohrs' coffee shop on the UES and feel the gentle, warm, wet fluid flow. There you can listen to a manic, frazzled looking new mother doing a one woman version of The Vagina Monologues to a frightened, overwhelmed Japanese woman.
"My gynecologist said..." [Said with the same frequency and tone of "This one time at band camp..."]
"You should take folic acid. Here, I'll write it down so you can go get some at Duane Reade."
"My hormones were so out of control but I've totally calmed down now."
"They told me I shouldn't look at the baby too much. But you can look at him, I'm just supposed to not look at him much cause it's bad for him."
"I won't even tell you how they got the baby out...but they used a vacuum and forceps."
This probably won't do much for my baby hating reputation, but I will state that her baby was adorable and undoubtedly the only good thing this woman had going in life.

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Wednesday, December 26, 2007

I hope everyone had a good couple of days off on Baby Jesus' tab. I'm off from work until January 2nd which means I will either be incredibly prolific with the blogging or I will do nothing. The only way you'll know is by checking in!

I'm so out of my mind with boredom that I have little to offer you aside from this slice-of-life tidbit care of my mom the other day, after talking to her via cellphone about an ailing elderly family member.

Diana - So does that mean you're going to have to do something drastic like give her an enema?
Mom - Shit. I don't have to do anything but stay black and die.


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Friday, December 21, 2007

I love children. Do not take my rantings about holiday cards as a sign that I'm some sort of child-hating anti-breeding douchebag. In fact, if you saw me in a gathering where children are present, you'd find me hanging out with the kids about 90% of the time because I am not good with making non-awkward small talk, but I am very good at teaching six year olds how to do the robot.

These are my peeps.

Also, I'm really immature, so I find that hanging out with kids really makes me look remarkably emotionally healthy. Again, I love children. If you're reading this, I specifically love YOUR children. Are we clear on that yet?

I totes understand sending pictures of kids to your friends and family. Again, I am not hatin'. Here's where I hate. I DON'T KNOW YOU AND YOU SEND ME A CARD WITH YOUR KIDS MUG ALL OVER IT. That's when things get iffy because you are participating in hubris-by-proxy.

Thankfully, this hasn't been much of a problem recently. Seems like East-coasters generally keep the shit in check (in my experience). This was not so in the Midwest where people would hunt down addresses and send cards to anyone who they might have said hello to that year.

As I dig deep into my memory bank of horrible Christmas card shame, I can clearly recall the year a family I'd only known very briefly sent me a picture of their daughter (adopted from China) put into a KIMONO and shoved onto a barren Olan Mills studio to capture the cultural ignorance for all. After the blood clot in my brain dissipated, a very real hatred of personalized holiday cards formed. Again, I make exceptions for anything cleverly done, and you could even phone it all in if you're my friend. I will look askance. I'm sure you do the same for any number of my own social infractions. That's what friendship is about - enabling.

Now I've written entirely too much and feel the need to cleanse my blog of the earnestness, so I will proceed with the mockery. The hunt for holiday cards is addictive. The results have not been disappointing, either.

Wishing you love and laughter, all of which are entirely absent on this girl's face you've put all over the card. How about you start at home with that one.

File this one under "adorable and yet puzzling."

A cow. A COW! Also, I'm not sure that the little daschund is being held in an SPCA-approved manner, but they have included a cow in the family portrait, so I'll give it a pass. Perhaps this is extreme, but I almost feel as though they are turning the entire tradition on its head with the addition of the cow. It's almost mocking us, and everything we believe in.

You can click on the images to see them even larger, and I would really suggest you do that for this one. I'm not sure why they needed to Vaseline the lens, but damn. I guess I shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. I know I often go out onto a snowy lawn and have a tea party with a vase of dried eucalyptus. It's a Yule tradition. It's also the day before I break my henna boycott and reapply to the roots - I then make sure to use any leftover henna for the yarn I'm spinning out of this year's lot of ferret hair I've collected. Everyone I met at the RenFest is going to love this year's Yule card and their ferret cloaks.

Here's a poor defenseless Shitzu taking one for the team.

That dog's face really could not be more appropriate.

Another couple to add to the vault of "questionably 'urban.'"

And just to prove that I'm not heartless, I will state that I really, really love the Ramirez family. Especially because they put a beard on a baby and that's just genius.

Adopt me.

Give up for these surreal bitches. Again. Love it.

Want to be frightened to your core? Want to see something that is such an abomination that no one should ever forgive you for it?

I am not going to be able to sleep for days after this. What does it all mean? Why are your children mimes AND ballerinas? What does it have to do with Christmas? Why is that first mime child about to punch me in the face? What does the second mime child hear? Is it the sound of my soul dying?

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Thursday, December 20, 2007

Seems like people are united in their hate for crappy family Christmas cards. Time for MOAR!

Call me old fashioned, but I don't believe your Christmas card should make people deeply question your sexuality as a couple. Mr. Santa has a wide-stance, if you know what I mean.


Someone's been watching too much America's Next Top Model.

In my quest for more cards, I came across a couple of cards that were intensely disturbing. Now, I understand how it might take a while for a people to ingratiate themselves to a people and a new country, but this level of dedication to assimilation is, again, beyond me.

Keep in mind, I found this on Flickr, and it was (judging by the other photos in the stream) created by the very family in the picture. I mean to say that they actually did this to themselves. Rest on that for a bit.

I'm sure this is one of those things that a selfish childless asshole like myself cannot understand, but these ode to your child cards that people distribute to others,
as though people care as much about their children as they do, leave me breathless with wonder. I mean, this one has nothing to do with Christmas at all! It's just a montage to their child!

Look, Mommy, there's your last scrap of self-awareness drowning in the ocean!

At least the kid looks happy. The worst are the poor, defenseless animals with no voice of their own that are forced into these cards.

I'm not a religious person, so I maybe I'm wrong, but isn't this trend a bit arrogant?


Also? What's with giving the least angelic looking person in your crew the enormous angel wings?

And for the "too disturbing for words" file, it looks like Buffalo Bill put on some holiday weight.

Would you trim me? I'd trim me.

Ladies with an attitude. Fellows that were in the mood. Don't just stand there, let's get to it. Strike a pose, there's nothing to it. VOGUE.

According to the Flickr page, this was someone's holiday card. I have nothing more to say about this.

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Wednesday, December 19, 2007

I'm on a roll today! Looking through my Google reader feed, I couldn't help but be inspired by this sight.

Which roughly translates into...

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The wimminz at Feministing spotted this classy "butt buoy" for sale just in time for the holidays. I can think of no better way to commemorate the birth of Christ than to purchase this oddly shaped buoy. It doesn't even look like an ass. More like a really large heart candy from a box of Runts. Also, if you're that excited about seeing an ass while riding a jet ski, you probably have other things you need to focus on. Like your upcoming meeting with your probation officer.

It was hard for me to read this article without stroking out envisioning people dying in Darfur while someone's Maltipoodle lounges around on a $300 couch, wearing perfume. It's this kind of shit that makes me whisper under my breath "one day when the revolution comes, your back will be up against the wall" when I see people leaving their chauffeured cars. Unless of course the revolution happens the day Sam gets a job at Goldman Sachs. Then I'll see to it that it's canceled.


I kid, but I'm trying to think about myself and my moral center and how good I would feel about spending hundreds of dollars on my pet, when that same money could go to, say, supplying thousands of animals with A HOME or A BOWL OF FOOD or maybe even VACCINATIONS or NEUTERING.

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Like this. Only less sexy.

I am *so* serious.

Sex has become so boring! For a while, I was having sex at the Power Exchange, because that was fun -- I could mix things up, I could do it in public, and I could have an audience! It was like putting on a show for everyone else, and I got to be the star!

Unfortunately, lately we've gone into re-runs, and I'm just not having fun anymore.

Let's go to the Power Exchange together. Let's go to the Power Exchange together and roleplay. Let's go to the Power Exchange together and roleplay HOT ZOMBIE SEX. I mean it. I know it sounds really ridiculous, but I've always loved zombies and the undead, and I've always loved sex, so I want to mix the two. Additionally, I've seen (and am friends with) some really cute zombie girls, and I could really enjoy the mix of horror, terror, shock value in others, and, y'know. Sex.

I'll dress up like an office professional or something like that, in some clothes I don't care about, and pretend to be doing some work in an office or something. Maybe then I'll listen to a prop radio and look shocked, act scared, peer out a mimed window or something, and then you batter on the door. And batter, and batter, and push -- and break in! And I let out a blood-curdling shriek, and you lunge at me and rip my clothes apart and splatter fake blood all over me (we'll use a tarp on the floor, to be polite), and proceed to savagely violate me. Or something like that -- I'm not really tied to that exact SCENE, but I think something that goes that way would be fun.

Be attractive -- sorry, I know, an attractive zombie, but it's possible. HWP, at the very least.
Know how to *act like a zombie*. I am specifically looking for someone with *zombie experience*. In San Francisco, I don't think this is asking a lot.
Be able to *look like a zombie*. This means dressing the part and knowing how to appropriately do your makeup.
Don't be shy. You're going to be dressed like a zombie and growling and groaning and spattering fake blood and all else everywhere. In public. To an audience that may not even be that into it (but I bet they will be!)

I'm *not* posting pictures of me this go round for obvious reasons, but if you mail me you're of course welcome to a ton. I'm very pretty.

About me:
5'6-5'7", 124#, non-smoker. Red hair, blue eyes, glasses, 32D. Anything else, ask. I am *so* into this idea.

I am primarily looking for a *FEMALE*. Males will be *considered*, but are not really what I'm up for. If you are, however, a *zombie couple*, that's acceptable. To that end:

t4m t4mw

I'm really looking forward to hearing from someone.

Not to overlook the larger issue, but what's a "t4m"...is that a tranny for male?

Source: Craiglist

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Tuesday, December 18, 2007

There are a lot of things I just do not understand - string theory, calculus, scrapbooking...but this time of year has me scratching my head with the onslaught of holiday cards emblazoned with photos of the senders all over it. Now, I'll give you a pass if you're an exceptionally good looking family (see right photos) or if you're related to me or a close friend.

But I cannot conceive of sending people you barely know photos of you and yours that will pretty much go directly into the trash. Furthermore, I cannot conceive of the endurance and fortitude it would require to purchase matching outfits, put those things on, and run out to a portrait studio of your liking on a regular basis. That sort of dedication to normalcy is beyond me.

Not to say this can't be done well, but it so rarely is. Not too many people are The Kennedies. Or the Obamas for that matter.

It wouldn't be so bad if half the cards and family portraits you see weren't so clearly staged while trying to appear totally SPONTANEOUS! Sorry, but there's no way your family got up, dressed identically, made the choice to go outside barefoot, and then just so happened upon a weeping willow by a scenic pond when a kind stranger came by and captured the moment on film.

You almost had us all fooled if it weren't for the photographers graphic, I would have assumed your white and khaki Aryan clan had spent every Sunday standing stiffly in front of the pond.

If you're going to go through all the trouble of sending people your holiday greetings whilst whoring out your family's faces, could you at least feign happiness? I mean, who wants to spend Christmas at this house?

Even the dog looks like an emotional cripple.

Also? Don't be terrifying to look at, kplzthnx.

Dad is rockin' the Manson eyes.

This card is so sinister. I feel there are some stories behind this card. Even the glowing snowman in the front yard is tainted with a satanic glow.

And, please, when will the government step in and stem the flow of earnest Photoshop abuses?

HOLD ME. "God Jul!" must be Swedish for "GOD SAVE US ALL!"

I take no joy in this card.

It seems like the whole point of these cards is to show how your family has aged over the past year, which makes sense when you have kids. What I find harder to grasp is why two adults would send out cards. Again, it's all in the execution. I find this version kind of adorable.

They look fun and cute and like they're just being silly. I want to hang with them. Do you know who I don't want to hang with?

Look, I love my pets too, but I'll be damned if I do this to them. No one wins in this situation. You just end up looking like people who call their pets their "furbabies" to anyone within earshot. That is a phrase you should use at home, in private, and with some amount of shame. Parading your pet family and spamming people's mailboxes with this will put you firmly in the "sad, empty, hopeless childless" camp and not in the "wow, they have a really full, cool life without children" one.

Just wondering, but is anyone supposed to give a shit about your "first Christmas" together? Because I think I really failed to inform my family and friends that was our FIRST CHRISTMAS and that this was a momentous occasion for all since now I was freed from the shackles of Christmas ALONE. Send me a card that says "Our Last Christmas" and I will love you forever.

If taking portraits as a couple and slapping them on a holiday card is questionable, then let's talk about being a single man and doing it.

Let us pray to Jah that this is a joke, and he's doing a David Brent impression. Are you 'avin' a laugh?!

Now, I wrestled with this one, because I want to talk about the execution and choices people make rather than just mock them for things beyond their control. I will just say that I hope these kids express an interest in interracial relationships because I think things may have gone too far.

Entirely comprised of recessive genes.
Speaking of race...

If that didn't make you cringe, wait for this Dateline worthy special.

You're not off the hook yet. Here's some more goodness.

Is the child supposed to be a tiny Herrod? I'm not sure I understand what's happening here. All I know is that those sandals will haunt my dreams.

After all these painful and often depressing stabs at normalcy, I'm finding this family portrait to be my personal favorite.

That's my kind of family.

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The Assimilated Negro
Hysterical Festival
Jen Kirkman
lolcat bible project
O Hell Nawl
Maria Bamford
Men Who Look Like
Old Lesbians

Not Hating, Just Saying
Stuff White People Like
Unfit Toys


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