Tag Archives: dumb

A Simple Guide On How To Suck Less, Overall!

22 May

Amen!

 

It’s a little difficult for me to write a serious post, as I tend to enjoy making people laugh more than anything else. Today, unfortunately, due to my somber mood…I’m going to drop some seriousness up in here. I’d like to talk about the suckery, upset, disappointment and general douchebaggery that seems to be continuing to get worse. People are not who they portray themselves to be, they lie more and more, and it’s becoming difficult to trust anyone or believe any of the drivel they say. The other issue, is that South Florida is a small place. When you get into the different religious, political, cultural and hobby-based circles that people participate in…it gets that much smaller.

My point is, like Margaret Thatcher said (or maybe it was Trick Daddy), “Everybody knows somebody, who knows somebody, who knows somebody.”

That being said, here’s a small guide on how to suck less, overall.

  1. Start by telling the truth: It’s not that hard. Just make sure when you open up that giant suck hole on your face, words come out that are purposeful, meaningful, and oozing with honesty instead of laced with a big load of bull.
  2. Care a little: I’m a human being, and would love to be respected and talked to as such. Beyond that, I need to learn not to be overly trusting and compassionate. I know, how silly of me to believe in others…right?
  3. Integrity… “GET YOU SOME!” I think that’s my new tagline, grammar be damned. Nobody panic. I’ve noticed that everyone’s integrity has gone out the window. Snuck out in the middle of the night. “Hide yo morals, hide yo values…they stealing everyone’s integrity up in here!” Well, just like “The Bed Intruder,” I have the same message… “Don’t worry, Integrity! We are LOOKING for you!” I’m so incredibly disappointed with people in general, and I have lost all hope.
  4. Show yourself, as you are…from the get go: Here’s the thing…if we don’t know each other well, that means you have no idea who I know and I have no idea who you know. While I mentioned above that everyone knows someone, I’d like to reiterate. You are dumb to hide anything, or try to portray yourself as a mythical unicorn…if you’re just a jackass with a cone-shaped headpiece on.  Someone will hear your name, and instinctively regurgitate everything and anything they know…and you will be…le fucked.
  5. Google is a hell of a tool, and apparently…so are you: If by now, the power of Google is a shocking notion to you, I’d like you to participate in the following exercise. Extend your dominant arm, making your dominant hand rigid and bringing your fingers to a point.  Please proceed to swing that hand at your face, until you slap some sense into your clearly empty head. SO you withheld a marriage…a divorce…5 kids…a prison record…that you lived in another state…you lost jobs for sexting or sexing coworkers? All these dirty little things you thought you could keep secret and still portray yourself as an upstanding member of the community…jokes on you, SUCKA. What you chose to not share, Google did…in 5 seconds. In seconds, I learn what would normally take days, weeks, or even months.

Overall, I like to think I’m pretty forgiving (dumb), understanding (stupid), and all around trusting (silly little girl). I’m upfront and honest, and seriously am more confused by the dishonesty of others and general craptastic demeanor that seems to be on display 24/7.

As Biggie Smalls once said (or was it Dr. Suess?), “Be who you are and say how you feel, because those who mind don’t matter, and those who matter don’t mind.”

If you can adhere to these five simple rules above (which most humans should be able to considering a MONKEY and a ROBOT could probably handle it), you’ll be well on your way to sucking less…overall.

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Are You Illegible To Read This?

17 May

 

 

 

If you would have told me that my first job out of Ad School would be working for the company I started at, my first response would have been laughter. Yet, there I was, hanging out in the glorious advertising department of said company. Prior to beginning there, it’s mandatory that everyone attends orientation. Although I worked at their headquarters, everyone who’s hired does the same orientation at one of their stores in Miami.

I’m the only one from headquarters.

The rest of the people are training to be dispersed to varying stores throughout Broward/Dade County. A blond lady around the age of 40 takes a seat to my left, looking fidgety and as if she’s been around the block once or a thousand times. To my right, are a girl who will be working at the call center and gentleman who speaks NO English. Legitimately not one word, and the girl from the call center is helping him write and understand his forms, translating the important things he needs to know.

“Wish this thing would get started already,” the blond lady says.

“I know, right? Like we don’t have better things to do?” I reply, trying to seem cool and tough.

She nods, indicating she agrees and makes a “PSSH” sound before throwing her head back in sarcastic laughter.

This is going to be a long day.

The lady who will be leading orientation is short and Hispanic, with long blond hair and dark highlights, tight pants, too much makeup and long fingernails. As she takes the floor, I figure this can go one of two ways: really good (informative and quick) or really bad (waste of time and aggravating). My money is on the latter…should’ve bet the farm.

“Hey everyone, I’m Shannon, and I’ll be leading orientation today. Can everyone take their top folder and move it to the bottom of the stack? Also, can someone tell me anything about the company?”

What followed was a barrage of idiotic questioning, supplemented by thoughtless idiotic answers. Some of the riveting questions were as simple as, “What does this company sell? Can anyone tell me?” or “What are the company colors?” Yikes.

A brief moment of relief…lunch break! Sweet!

The blond lady follows me down to the cafeteria before uttering, “Mind if I sit with you?”

“Sure,” I said.

The conversation went on to discuss her father’s profession as a strip club owner, and how she got tired of working there. She used to have a wealthy boyfriend but he left her and while she loves photography and would work in the field, there’s just not enough money. Also, she hoped they wouldn’t make her cover up her BACK length Jaguar tattoo (not the car, the animal).

When we get back, the woman in charge is ready to discuss the company benefits.

“After three months of work with this company, you become illegible for your benefits.”

Wha-…did she just? No, she couldn’t have said illegible, I’m hearing things!

“If you are part-time, you are not illegible for benefits.”

Twice? Okay, this is not a mistake. Can it really be that someone this misguided is in a position to teach others?

I lean over to the blond lady and ask, “Did she just say…illegible instead of eligible?”

“Fuck yeah she did,” she said.

“That’s what I thought.”

In the process of the next two hours, this woman used that term several times, forcing me to wonder…am I not eligible for benefits, or am I sloppy and not understood well?

I’d love to sit here and tell you that was the one and only time something like that happened. There are two other favorite moments, however, that id’ love to share with you.

“P.J. Smoove” is the nickname for someone I used to work with. While insanely knowledgeable about the company, he had his own way of doing things…mainly, the wrong way.  To give you a sense of who he is, I’m going to tell you this story first.

About a year ago he went skydiving for the first time and decided he didn’t need anyone to jump with him. Moral of the story, he landed wrong, breaking both his legs. He’s incredibly stubborn and believes himself to be correct.

All day…every day.

“Allyson, can you please send me the un-complete list?”

Don’t correct him, don’t correct him….fight it!

“Um, sure P.J. I’d be happy to send the incomplete list over to you as soon as possible.”

I figured that was a decent save, right?

“Yes, the un-complete list would be great, thanks.”

The only time that has surpassed my experience with “P.J. Smoove,” has been with whom I affectionately referred to as “Oscar the Grouch” at the job I moved on to.

“Oscar the Grouch” was a special case. Everywhere you work has that one person who gets off on their power trip, feels like they’re never wrong, and they are essentially think they’re the end all be all. HE…was that dude.

I was still relatively new, but all this guy had done during my time there was attempt to make it as difficult as possible. Yet, unbeknownst to him, he was about to lose all credibility and make me fall in love with him simultaneously.

“Allyson, can you come here for a moment? When you’re writing for this product, you need to realize…this company…is SUPER in-no-vah-tive.”

I spell it phonetically so you see how he said it. Not innovative, like normal….in-no-vah-tive.

He then proceeded to repeat the word, several times and I thought well…I may not be illegible for benefits, but to think I’m not in-no-vah-tive enough? That just makes me feel un-complete!

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Epidemic Continues To Spread! Is There Hope For A Cure On The Horizon?

16 May

Are there really ANY words that could do this image of D.A.D.S justice?

 

Congratulations!

If you’re reading this, you’ve come to the realization that you are suffering from one of two very serious afflictions; Dumb Girl Syndrome (D.G.S) or Dumb Ass Dude Syndrome (D.A.D.S). Right now you’re confused and scared, wondering where you’ve contracted this from, who’s to blame and regretting not using protection the last few times. Relax. Sadly, like so many other serious diseases, D.G.S. and D.A.D.S ar typically a genetic defect or something learned from a very early age. Most likely if it’s learned it’s due to an overbearing mother, strict upbringing, or daddy issues. So many Americans in particular between the ages of 13 to douche bag suffer daily, and unfortunately… there seems to be no immediate cure.

“But how can I KNOW for SURE if I suffer from these offensive diseases?”

Great of you to ask! Today, we examine the symptoms of D.G.S and D.A.D.S and pose the serious question: Is there hope for a cure?

 

“Like, O.M.G, D.G.S?”

D.G.S, or Dumb Girl Syndrome, is continuing to run rampant. It appears to stem from need for attention, affection, or extreme denial. Girls who suffer from D.G.S are typically very easy to spot, as they tend to run in packs. During the winter season, they typically migrate north and west, clamoring to NY to catch a glimpse of the girls from The Hilly City (whoever they are) or to LA to become the next contestant on The Real World (I’m going to be famous!). These girls are skittish, so if you approach them, be sure to do so calmly and without food in hand as they’re most likely hungry (eating= a major no no! But, you CAN have a cheese cube if you’re about to pass out). A half-caff, light mocha frap has been known to calm the beast, but NO WHIPPED CREAM…God help you if there’s whipped cream…

Other symptoms tend to include possessing one or more magazines in their gigantic mansion of a purse that often accompanies a small dog closely resembling a stuffed animal rather than an actual animal! These girls tend to drag their dogs everywhere, treating their pet as an accessory. Let me ask you a serious question…do you really think fluffy wants to be shoved into a Louie knock-off and toted around while you walk the city, read in Borders and gossip about how Scott likes to call you at 2 AM but cannot commit? If I was a toy dog, I’d demand to be left home so I could flounce about the house believing I was living in a giant “Fluffy” based world.

Many girls afflicted with D.G.S suffer from two other major symptoms, including an oomp-ish orange hue and skunk-hair (defined by a platinum blond top layer of hair with a bright color or dark brown layer underneath). If you see this, do not blame these misguided girls as they are simply victims of trend and excessive media consumption. Someone needs to drop some knowledge on these girls that what the Gossip Girls or Katy Perry do are not gospel. Just because you see it, does not mean you must imitate.

For example: spandex leggings. Whoever reintroduced this fashion statement should be exiled! News flash: spandex…not for everyone. In addition, the reintroduction of hammer pants, or as some call them “genie” pants? N-O-T cute, and in this case not for anyone unless of course you’re actually M.C. Hammer…or live in a bottle.

All girls suffering from D.G.S suffer denial and misguided notions, particularly when it comes to men. They cannot conceive why they’re not married or in a relationship, why their ex’s have not returned to shout from the roof-tops “I’m so sorry, I made a huge mistake!” This is very closely related to the book turned movie, “He’s Just Not That Into You.” If you’re sitting there thinking, “that is so not true, I know he’s just intimidated by my beauty or my success…or my…love for my dog,” etc. then may I suggest you pick up a copy of either.

Is there hope for a cure? Let’s be serious. As long as the Paris Hilton’s and the like are some sort of diluted version of role models or public figures, my guess is no. While I’d like to say I’m optimistic for the future and finding a cure for this disease, I see little to no chance of that happening in my lifetime or those to come. Sorry. How do we avoid and/or comfort those suffering with this terminal illness? With laughter. Look around…one out of three women you know is suffering from this. If you can’t figure out who it is, as the old saying goes… it’s you.

 

So, you’re becoming a D.A.D!

This subject is one of my favorites, and one I love to talk about with passion! I love men (albeit typically the wrong ones, but none the less)…real MEN. Not man-boys, or the ever-present “man-baby.” Also on my list of “dislikes” are the symptoms included within this awful and sadly…flourishing disease. Men, brace yourself…these are the symptoms that if you have 1 or more, could mean that YOU…are becoming a D.A.D.

I would generally just write, “large sunglasses,” as a distinctive characteristic of this disease that both boggles my mind and infuriates me. If your sunglasses are larger than mine, that’s an issue. It’s not a fashion statement, it’s idiocy and frankly sir…you look ridiculous! Oh, don’t believe me? Going to purchase some new shades? Ahhhh yes, I see you’ve chosen the ultra douche bag large WHITE sunglasses, or the sunglasses that shouldn’t even be classified as glasses because they have lines through the center of it. NICE choice. NEWS FLASH MEN: Kanye West…is an idiot. Anything he does, you should go ahead and do the complete opposite. He’s not black Jesus, he’s not the best thing to happen to fashion,  he’s a man…with bad taste. Large sunglasses are the largest indicator of D.A.D.S…get it together men.

On the topic of de-manification, let’s discuss the following: guyliner, skinny jeans, Ed Hardy, shiny metallic gear of any kind and bejeweled ANYTHING. I’ve got to tell you…if I see one more embossed Eagle, Snake or false idea of manly-hood decorated in beads I used to play with from my Pretty, Pretty, Princess game when I was five, I’m going to LOSE it. If your jeans are skinnier and tighter than mine, if you’re wearing silver metallic gear, using my eye liner or foundation, OR if you’re wearing more jewelry (cubic zirconia, of course) and hair gel then I am… we have an issue (potentially multiple). When did gender lines become so blurred that it’s acceptable for people to say, “what a cute couple, now which one of you is which? Oh, nice black nail polish dude, it really matches your snake that’s on fire on your sleeveless vest and matching leather murse (man purse)!”

YIKES.

Similarly, the phrase “No Homo” comes to mind. Not only is the phrase incredibly offensive, but really? You need to make it clear to those around you that although you just said you love your guy friend, you’re not gay? And…you think…saying that phrase makes it better? Actually, it leads me to believe that while I wasn’t previously thinking you had any sexual interest in your friend…now? I kind of do!

How about this real life example I saw on a friend of mine’s wall on Facebook from another guy friend from high school:

“Hey dude. I was thinking about soccer the other day and I thought of you, so I thought I’d drop by your wall and leave some love. It made me so happy to see you with a girl in your picture and it seems like you’re happy, which makes me happy…no homo…take care.”

WHAT? Anybody catch what just happened?

I was thinking about you. I wanted to leave you love. I’m happy you’re happy. I’m not gay though. Alrighty then! Guys, you sound ridiculous. It’s okay to wear things that make people question your eh… “openness,” but heaven forbid they think you care and have girly emotions. PSSSH…how “homo.”

Another unfortunate side effect of D.A.D.S stems from factors starting at childhood. Men, just because your mother has told you since you were able to breathe that you are the hottest, most talented, smartest, gift to women in the WORLD does NOT give you a free range to be an ass. It also doesn’t mean you’ve won the lottery and are able to run around with a free “act like a douche for life” card. False. Take a look at why you haven’t had a successful relationship in years, or why you’ve been single and no one wants to get near your bejeweled fire snake for more than a second or two. And of course, that hot piece of ass feeding you compliments is…your mom.

D.A.D.S often enjoy provoking you to talk about their “situation down below,” or want to talk about how they’ve had a girlfriend for five years but still like to get freaky with other women.

Is there a hope for a cure? It’s not likely. As long as trends are in power, brains lack in power, and parents try to program their “little pieces of perfection” from the get go…de-manification will continue to lead to a more prevalent outbreak of D.A.D.S until it takes over all of the remaining (alleged) “real men.”

 

If you know anyone who fits in D.G.S or D.A.D.S or can foresee a cure in the near future, we at the “Foundation for a Yikes-Free Future,” would love to hear from you!

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