Profane in the membrane

My parents give me grief about being “educated” but using profanity, asking if that’s “the best I can do,” and “can’t I find a better way to express myself.”

Well, first off, fuck you.

But also? I’m a writer/editor, like, for money, so accurate use of language is kinda my thing. And there is no more accurate language for the world we’re currently inhabiting than a constant blue streak of every swear word I know, and likely some I don’t. I’m grateful I found Archer, because I don’t know how people CAN express their feelings effectively without saying things like “son of a shit-snackin’ whore.” SO glad I learned that one!

Plus, I’m sorry, WHO let me have the George Carlin and Denis Leary albums at age 12? Pfft. This is on y’all.

H/T, George Carlin

George Carlin had a bit about the potency of farts — eg, “A fart that could eat the stitching out of Levi’s,” or “A fart that could end a marriage.”

And even though I don’t make fart jokes because I AM A LADY, my mind wandered to Carlin today, high fived that bit, and ended up here…

The kind of cramps where you Google a diagram of the human body so you know for sure which organs are absolutely going to fall out of your body at some point today.

The kind of cramps where you’ve never seen the movie Alien, but you just know something similar is happening in your abdomen.

The kind of cramps where you sing along with that country song about shootin’ your husband and really mean it, even though you’re single, because you just know, somewhere, somehow, a man is responsible for this. (JK, men — please come have sex with me in 3-4 days.)

The kind of cramps where you apologize to your liver in advance, because today’s definitely an Advil with a Bayer chaser kinda day. With Aleve sprinkles.

The kind of cramps where you’re like, “Fuck ME, did I eat knives that I forgot about?!”

The kind of cramps where “Fuck YOU, this chocolate muffin I’m eating for dinner is medicinal.”

I’m not laid-back…unless you lay me back. Hey-o!

A man sent me an intro message on OkCupid that said, “I can tell from your profile that you’re very laid back, which I like in a woman.”

Um… no, I’m totally not.

The insanely thorough profile doesn’t really scream “Cool Girl,” does it? How’d you arrive at that? Show your work.

Also, when you say you like “laid-back” women, I’m reading that you like women who won’t bug you too much, because “BITCHES, man, amirite?”

NOPE. I don’t care about things some men seem to assume all women do. I won’t try to make you watch The Notebook or come to my yoga class or go shopping with me. (I’d actually prefer you didn’t.) But you’ll definitely know when something’s important to me. An ex of mine said I “hint with a hammer” — subtlety isn’t really my deal.

I also drink too much coffee and take a crack-based drug for ADD, so I’m almost always jittery. Plus I have massive trust issues, and assume fight stance quick when I think someone’s testing them — my brain basically turns into River Tam toward the end of Serenity, beating the shit out of the Reavers.

I am high-the-fuck-strung, sir.

Again, George Carlin says it better: “I’m not ‘laid-back,’ and I’m certainly not ‘mellow.’ I associate those qualities with the comatose. The solar system wasn’t formed because matter was laid-back; life didn’t arise from the oceans and humans descend from the trees because DNA was mellow. It happened because of something called ENERGY.”

The politics of sexual slang

Google News: Keepin’ it classy since…well, about an hour ago, apparently:
Screen Shot 2016-09-14 at 3.11.10 PM.png

But I question Powell’s word choice. I know he’s probably not up on the latest locker room slang, but I’ve literally never heard anyone say they were “dicking” someone. I’ve said I was “dicking around,” meaning procrastinating or wasting time. But when it comes (heh) to sex, you’re fucking someone. Screwing. Banging. Nailing.

Here, wait… George Carlin can cover it more thoroughly: “Fuck, screw, lay, diddle, push, plow, hump, cut, bang, poke, batter, wham, beef injection, vitamin F, knock up, put out, dip your wick, hide the salami, laying pipe, polishing your rocket, squattin’ on the hawg, getting your pole varnished, a quickie, a nooner, a matinee, pop your cookies, bust your nuts, get your rocks off, bananas and cream, piece of ass, nookie, poontang.”

I feel as though the Asshole Ratio is pretty even here.

I understand this goes against my general “do unto others” philosophy — I would NOT want this done to me. I feel bad about it, it’s a dick move, and makes me a GIANT asshole.

We all on board? Excellent, ’cause I’m posting this screenshot of an OkCupid message, anyway. There’s too much majesty in it to be confined by a mere retelling. You must behold the glory in its entirety.

Identifying information has been deleted/changed to protect the overly cheerful at 8:goddamn-13 in the morning.

Damn, that’s a lot of emojis when you’re 52. (Or any age, really. But 52 for sure.)

P.S. My profile mentions Carlin’s seven dirty words, but just generally, gentlemen — pro tip? Never lead with farts. I’m still a lady, fuckface.

JOE.jpg

10 Things I (Won’t) Date About You

I’m going with a basic list for last night’s date recap (Waffles Guy, date 2), because no storytelling would be better than just throwing it all out there:

1. He really likes Triumph the Insult Comic. He was surprised I didn’t, because it’s “such similar humor to George Carlin’s.” 

THAT is when I should’ve left. BUT…

2. He ordered Bud Light Lime. On purpose. And paid for it. With money.  

3. He mocked Rhonda Rousey for saying she was depressed after a loss, because “she just didn’t get her way,” and “male fighters would never say something like that — they’d say, ‘OK, I’ll get back to the gym, work harder.'” 

So… You can’t be depressed but ALSO plan to improve? But “that’s not what a champion says.”

He actually seemed pretty dismissive about mental health issues in general, which is odd because he works in a facility that treats addicts and people with psych issues. But fuck you, dude — I’m only moderately crazy (“dysthymic,” I believe is the word), and therapy and meds have helped me a lot. And I know at least two people who’d probably be dead if they hadn’t sought help.

4. There’s “gentleman,” which I enjoy, and then there’s repeatedly insisting I put your coat over my shoulders even when I’ve said I’m not cold. Dude, it’s 65 degrees out, and I am a grown-ass woman who can determine when she needs a coat.

5. Related: While walking, he told me he was switching sides with me on the sidewalk so I wasn’t walking closest to the street. 

I forgot that was a THING. 

I don’t usually get feminist-tweaked until you start treating me like a child, and then suddenly you’re staring down the barrel of 40 years of family issues. I know when I need a coat, and it’s our second date, so… you’re gonna, what, get hit by an out-of-control car so I don’t? Way to volunteer as Tribute.

6. Discussing movies:
Him: “I never saw Lord of the Rings. Is that the one with the kid with the glasses?”
Me: *blink*”…No. That’s Harry Potter.”
Him:”Oh, right! I’ve never seen those movies, either.”

I don’t care if he didn’t see them. But how the actual balls do you confuse the two?

7. He said Breaking Bad was “just OK,” and that Better Call Saul is better. I hope someone gives you Stevia. (Kidding.)

8. Audible eater. (Of FOOD, shut up.)

9. While not as disgusting or graphic as I would’ve thought, hearing how diverticulitis presents in an adult male is still pretty boring.

10. When I asked if he was a Trump voter: “There are two things I don’t talk about in public: religion and politics. One I know far too much about, one I know nothing about. I won’t tell you which is which, but I will say I went to Catholic school for 12 years.”

Wow. I am in awe of the enigma of you.

I realize some of this is just me being an asshole. But… I mean, the valid points are REALLY valid. (It also hit a lot of my big-issue nerves, but that’s ME, not him, so I’ll get into that later.)

P.S. I let him kiss me because I was still curious after he didn’t on the first date, and I’ll give him credit: Solid kiss, one hand around my waist, one hand in my hair. Good work, sir. A little too much moaning for me personally, but overall, good for you.

Um, no, YOU have a Giles fetish.

Seen in an OkCupid profile: “I am definitely a stereotypical academic in the sense that I love wearing corduroy blazers and holing up in ivory towers.”

*blink* OMG. Take me, sir. Take me hard.

The only things we have in common are burritos, mushroom hatred, High Fidelity, and grammar, but let’s be honest, I’ve based relationships on less. I dated a guy for 8 months because we could both quote George Carlin.

Plus, another of his favorite movies is Josie and the Pussycats, so he clearly also enjoys dumb, fluffy things.

Hello, Professor. I will be your dumb, fluffy thing.

Your plagiarism dries my panties.

A guy’s OkCupid profile quoted Mitch Hedberg twice without attribution.

I will not send him a message suggesting he cite his source…

I will not send him a message suggesting he cite his source…

I will not send him a message suggesting he cite his source…

His profile says he’s “inspired” by comedians. Um, no, dude, you’re just stealing shit, and trying way too hard to be clever. I can FEEL the “Aren’t I cute and clever?”* desperation emanating from his profile. (I know my own.)

*George Carlin, by the way.

Self-care

How to Care for Your Smug, page 17, section 6:

“In the event of a bad workday, allow your Smug to Ugly Cry alone, because she is emotionally stunted and can’t cry in front of people.

“When she calms down, apply one steak burrito with extra dairy products, and an order of Wendy’s fries with barbecue sauce. Repeat as needed.

“If possible, sit your Smug down in front of any Shonda Rhimes show (new or old) with any vodka-based beverage(s). This is her cognitive behavioral therapy. (See also: “Dance it out.”)

“Put Tipsy Smug to bed immediately with a George Carlin audiobook playing.”