Friends Don’t Let Friends Speed-Dial Drunk

My blog theme this week seems to be stupid is as stupid does. Since we know whatever we post will be here forever - just like a drunken early morning phone call that’s captured on an answering machine - I feel the need to get this all down on the net. I’d like to have a record of exactly what was going on in October of 2010 for when I’m an old codger who wants to take a stroll down memory lane.

So, you remember the Clarence Thomas hearings, right? Where Anita Hill, a co-worker, accused him of sexual harassment? Let me refresh your memory: Pubic hairs on sodas - yeah, that’s the one.

Okay, so Clarence’s wife is either a morning drinker or she’s extremely pissed at her husband and it has taken her a few years to decide which passive-aggressive path to take toward revenge. It seems a morning phone call to Anita Hill is what she decided.

"I just wanted to reach across the airwaves and the years and ask you to consider something. I would love you to consider an apology sometime and some full explanation of why you did what you did with my husband. So give it some thought. And certainly pray about this and hope that one day you will help us understand why you did what you did. OK, have a good day."

I’d say someone had a nice 7am highball with her Cheerios. The message was left on Saturday morning at 7:30 am, which makes me wonder if Clarence was a little less than….um, generous in bed the night before.

ONE WORD to Supreme Court Justice Thomas: RECIPROCATION.

I’m pretty sure if you’d curled your wife’s toes Friday night, she wouldn’t have felt the need to dial under the influence.

Ginny, if your hope was to ‘put this all behind you’ (Satan, get thee behind me!) I’m not sure you understand what BEHIND means. Your wacky early morning antics did just the opposite. You tossed that bomb AHEAD of you, right in the path of the oncoming politirati.

My advice: A little less happy hour and a little more Sesame Street in the morning. I’m sure Bert, Ernie and Big Bird can teach you a thing or two about opposites.

Plus, that Grover is a pip!

A Few of My (Least) Favorite Things

1. Reality TV.

Seriously, do we have an ETA on when that stupid trend is going to peter out? Because I think America’s been dumbed-down to the point of reckless abandon at this point. It’s been scientifically proven that for every 30 minutes of reality TV you watch, you lose 5 IQ points, so some of you people should be in a cage with the apes at the Bronx Zoo, tossing excrement and sniffing your fellow inmates’ asses.

The only two network shows I watch are The Office and Glee*. (*Wouldn’t life would be wonderful if we all occasionally broke into song with an accompanying perfectly choreographed dance number and flawless costuming? And Jane Lynch is so yummy I could dip her in couscous and wash her down with a glass of chardonnay. )

2. Donald Rumsfeld, Karl Rove, Ann Coulter, Rush Limbaugh and Bill O’Reilly.

I probably don’t need to elaborate here. This also goes for FOX News. I prefer my propaganda with a big Nazi flag in the corner of the screen, accompanied by grainy black-and-white pictures of soldiers screaming ‘Heil Hitler’.

3. Seeing your underwear in public.

This applies to persons of the male and female persuasions. Guys, if you think it’s so important for me to see your Joe Boxers, just wear them over your jeans. It’ll look less stupid than having the crotch of your pants dangling somewhere around your knees.

And gals, (I’m talking to you if your jeans only cover half your ass and I can see your thong), if you’re under 25 and wear obnoxiously low-riding pants, you might want to re-assess your fashion sense. If you’re over 25 and embracing tween-fashion, you might need to re-assess your common sense.

AND NOW FOR YOUR MOMENT OF ZEN:

Ladies, have you ever wanted a bejeweled beaver? Well then, get in on the new fad that’s sweeping the nation. Everyone from Jennifer Love Hewitt to Kathy Griffin have gone the way of the shimmering snatch, so don’t be the last one on your block with a festooned frontage. Start Vajazzling*!

(*va-jazzle - to decorate your ‘down there’ area with shiny, glittery gems.)

My Va-Jay-Jay Bling sung to the tune of A Few of My Favorite Things.

Thong, thong, thong, thong, WRONG!

It’s not often that I am stopped short as I amble down the feminine hygiene aisle at my local Wal-Mart, but I was this weekend.

Yes. Someone, somewhere, thought a thong pantiliner was an appropriate idea. That someone was an idiot. Here’s the thing: there are only two reasons why a woman would need a pantiliner in the first place.

One: It’s that time of month.

Two: Leakage issues.

I never thought this was something I’d have to publicly address, but here we are. If you are someone who falls into Category One, why are you wearing a thong? Your trendy, polka-dot Hanes Hip-Hugger Cotton Briefs were all in the laundry?

If you happen to fall into Category Two and you’ve got leaky pipes, let me be the first to inform you that you have passed the thong stage.

Yes…there is a thong stage. If you cannot cough, laugh, sneeze or fart without dribbling a little in your skivvies, your thong days are over. While I can sympathize with the Gotta-Go, Gotta-Go, Gotta-Go Right Now! phenomenon, I cannot sympathize if you continue to wear a thong.

That’s just stupid and, frankly, unhygienic.

…now back to your regularly scheduled blog.