Semantics

“You’re ridiculous.”

Somewhat of a compliment but more over something I’ve been accused of many times in my life, usually preceded by, “How inappropriate,” followed by the inevitable, “You’re ridiculous.”

Ridiculous is an adjective that means deserving or arousing ridicule; extremely silly or unreasonable - but it has also come to symbolize the inane.  Or just things that are plain lame, as in stupid.  Not handicapped.  That would be insensitive.

So, let’s take a closer look at what, exactly, “ridiculous” is.

For example, Ridiculous is:

• Giving someone Lotto tickets as a gift.  That’s on par with handing someone a wrapped box of disappointment.
• Peeing in the backyard. (I’m looking at you, Dad).
• Charging any amount of money for checked airline luggage over 50 lbs. 
• As my BFF pointed out: why is it fair a 250 lb. dude is allotted a 50 lb. bag when she weighs 125 lbs. less than he does, but has the same weight limit on her bag?  It stands to reason she should get the courtesy of a bag that weighs up to 175 lbs. before she’s charged a $50 penalty.  But alas this logic regarded her the unsolicited opinion of being “ridiculous” by an eavesdropping bathroom patron.  Stick to your bowel movement, sweetheart.
• Road cyclists and their desire to be both moving vehicle AND pedestrian are ridiculous.
• This blog.
• Customer service (More of a joke).
• Retail.
• The restaurant industry.
• The entertainment industry.
• The Kardashians.
• My inclusion of the Kardashians on this list.
• “The fact that my period has not come yet.” (As echoed by a number of close girlfriends).
• Adult onesies.
• How amazingly AWESOME The Neverending Story is. 
  
• Also, RAD.
• Dog strollers.

• Self-importance.
• Facebook.
• Shia LaBeouf.
• Every show on TLC.
• And VH-1.
• Just, stop watching “reality” and go live it.
• Movember.
• Hipsters.

http://sunny-x-ray.deviantart.com/art/Hipsters-252527039

• My dating life.
• Stufz: America’s Stuffed Burger.
• DateACougar.com
• The TSA screening process.
• Notes process.
• New Years Resolutions.
• Diets.
• When Artax dies.
• Dog shows.

Photo courtesy of NY Times

• The soundtrack to Flash Gordon by Queen.
• Plastic surgery (my grandmother’s face lift was a really confusing time for me).
• Justin Bieber’s retirement. 
• America's obscene and misguided obsession with all things gleuten free. (Thanks for the reminder, Leigh!)

I could go on and on.  Which, I guess, is kind of the point of this blog.  So on this NYE, I will take time to reflect on all the ridiculous memories and material afforded me by 2013 with gratitude, and assume my crash position in preparation for 2014. 

Happy New Year’s Eve all!

Holiday Boom Boom?

Something about the Holiday season that breeds nostalgia.  Something about Facebook that acts as the perfect host/ carrier for indecent proposals, you know, "for old times' sake."  So imagine the degree of flattery I was met with yesterday morning when I was awakened to the sound of my past and my present colliding.

First came the sext messages from the new guy.  Always a fun and welcomed way to begin the day.  But then, like a bull in a china shop, Facebook crashed the party with a message of its own.

Appropriate response, yes?  My best friend would be the first to point out that "when the past calls send it to voicemail.  It has nothing new to say."  Sound advice.  But what about when it Facebook's you?

Long and the short of it: what's apparent to me is that I continue to elicit the same lascivity from most men who interact with me.  And I have an obvious affinity for sex toys.  Not for nothin', at least I'm consistent. 

Maybe now is a good time to contemplate some new resolutions.

Chocolate Covered Ball Sack

Apparently I'm on an island that celebrates this sort of thing.  News flash: pooping's not that big an accomplishment after a night of boozing.  Particularly drinking beer.

Point in case: (real names withheld for the sake of safeguarding some last shred of dignity,) Sally and Billy were a couple of wild and crazy kids who spent most their days drunk on Bud Light and love.

Since their drinking schedule and level of consumption precluded them from doing the horizontal tango at night (limp dick, ya know), morning sex became their thing.  And because Billy was a lazy fuck, Sally usually found herself riding him.

One should know this is dangerous for a couple reasons:

1) Gravity, &

2) Beer shits

Now couple that with the pressure of an above average-sized you know what cock-a-doodle-doing you, and what you end up with is chocolate covered balls.  And I'm not talking about truffles.

Also, Billy lived with his parents.  His very Mormon parents.

True story.  

Sally eventually recovered, and after some therapy sessions, was able to jump back up on that pony - just not Billy's.  And she switched to wine.

I Did It All For The Wookie

"Key West, is the most beautifully strange (or is it strangely beautiful?) island in the US... The locals revel in their funky nonconformity here, probably because weirdness is still integral to the Key West brand." (http://www.lonelyplanet.com/usa/florida/key-west#ixzz2nxN3OHXA)

Sweet.  So I read this and immediately think to myself, Great!  I'll be right at home.

So far, this place is a bright spot on the road to ridiculous.  

Back when I was drinking, my friends and I endearingly called our local dive The Star Wars Bar because it never had a shortage of "action figures;" otherwise known as complete fucking weirdos.  

Turns out Key West is literally no different.

(Surprisingly quite the DMB fan.)

(Absolutely positive I have lice now.)

Friends Don't Let Friends Eat Strangers

Took off work a week early so I could travel to Land's End and experience all the majesty the Florida Keys have to offer. 

In other words, I'm as far away from familial holiday disfunction as I could afford to go. 

My best girlfriend and I took the red-eye Monday night.  (After having given her lice in first grade, I'm surprised she cares to travel anywhere near me at all.)  

In less than 24-hours, we've not only been called "ridiculous" by an ugly girl in an airport bathroom (& she wasn't calling us funny), but I was almost consumed by an Alligator/ Crocodile/ Dinosaur.

Fortunately, this guy's friend convinced him not to eat me; claiming he couldn't tell where I've been, but by the looks of it,  I probably wasn't "safe."

Wish I would have had half this reptile's foresight during my twenties. 

 

I Wanna Sex You Up

What. The. Fuck.

Here's the deal: I'm a girl.  My inner-worth is based on my outsides.  Your response to me (aka: my appearance) informs me how to feel about myself, as reinforced by practically every goddamn magazine cover on virtually every corner.  (See below.)

Listen, I'm not one to complain.  This is a system that has been in place forever.  "If it ain't broke, don't fix it;" and I'm certainly not about to go try and change it with all this "therapy."  A woman's place is in the kitchen (as long as she's not eating.  Otherwise she better get her ass to some vacuuming to burn those calories, am I right?)  I accept this now.

I've wasted countless years desperately insisting I am an intelligent Being - that I be recognized for my beautiful brain first and foremost - as you've most assuredly gathered by my previous blog posts.

Well, I AM DONE with that nonsense.  So, here it is: my Holiday resolution to fold in as apposed to fall out.  I am joining the ranks of the vapid, and assuming my rightful place amongst my gender.

Kicking it off the right way with my festively photoshopped Greeting Card.  Merry fucking Christmas.

No-K Cupid

Ok Cupid is a free dating website.

I think it's fair to say, you get what you pay for.

The above was submitted by my slutty friend.  (I can say that because water seeks it's own level.)

Aaaaaaand the kind of response my profile was attracting.  My account has since been deactivated.

Got an OK Stupid experience?  I'd just looooove to hear about it.