Category Archives: adages

Killing the beautiful people: it’s the American way

We’ve talked about these things in the past, but I am fascinated by folk sayings. I think this is possibly because my grandmother (and by extension, my mother) had one of these things for every occasion. Well, not really FOR every occasion. They would just throw them in there whenever they felt like it, even when it didn’t match up to what was being said, sometimes, which was very confusing. But it was like being a linguistic archaeologist, listening to them talk. Or maybe anthropologist? Either one, maybe, I don’t know. I liked to figure out where they got these things. And I grew up pretty sure that NO ONE’S FAMILY had these weird sayings. Well, maybe families in the deep south. People down south have weird sayings. I know this from book larnin’. Don’t let anyone tell you books don’t teach you anything, kiddos. I’ve totally learned things from books, like how down south, people have as many weird country sayings as my mom and grandmother do.

But when I was looking for something else a while ago (what was I looking for? Don’t know. Can’t remember. SOMETHING. I look for a lot of things online, then I get distracted by shiny and find something ELSE, and then I bookmark that other thing so I’ll remember to talk about it with you all later. My list of bookmarks is LONG. And someday when I die, someone’s going to find it, and they’re going to be all “what is this utterly fascinating yet terrifying look into the mind of AMY” and then they’re going to be scared of me, I think) I found a website which is called “American Folk Sayings” and I was all, “huh, MERKAN folk sayings, this ought to be good! Because I’M Merkan!” but then I started reading it and ZOMG YOU GUYS. There were SUCH WEIRDO THINGS ON IT.

When I looked up American Folk Sayings THIS came up. It has nothing to do with this post, but CATS IN DRESSES!!!

When I looked up American Folk Sayings THIS came up. It has nothing to do with this post, but CATS IN DRESSES!!!

Now I’m not 100% sure if the person who set up this site made some of these up, or if they’re real things, or people sent them in to him and he was being trolled, or WHAT is HAPPENING, but I was seriously reading these and just giggling and then saying “what? no” and then giggling again and more and again. And also thinking, “oh, Ken will love these because EUPHEMISMS” and also “huh, I think old-timey Merkans hated women.”

This woman looks OVERJOYED with her old-time Merkan wedding, right? Right.

This woman looks OVERJOYED with her old-time Merkan wedding, right? Right.

WELCOME TO MERKA! Where we say stupid shit, apparently, for a LIVING!*

(*may not actually be true, I’m not sure)

A friend to everyone is a friend to nobody. I think this one wants us to have enemies. I kind of get this – I mean, who trusts someone who likes EVERYONE? Not me, that’s for sure – but I find it odd there’s a whole saying advocating enemy-ing people. Well, these are MERKAN sayings, after all. And we’re really good at hating over here. I guess if you look at it this way, this is a very good Merkan saying.

A man is the only animal that can be skinned more than once. I think this refers to something with money. Isn’t stealing or cheating someone called skinning them? But also I think this is about Buffalo Bill and his skin-suit. I’m pretty sure a serial killer wrote this one.

I'd skin you twice. PUT THE LOTION ON ITS SKIN!

I’d skin you twice. PUT THE LOTION ON ITS SKIN!

A living dog is better than a dead lion. What? OF COURSE IT IS! Who wants a dead lion? Who even wants a LIVE lion? LIONS ARE NOT PETS. Dogs are pets. Why do we even have a saying about this? Is it because we might forget the distinction? OK, well, if that’s the case, here, let me make it easier for you. Dogs: pets. Lions (dead OR alive): NOT PETS. There. You don’t even need this saying, it is extraneous.

Aw, well, this is so adorable my whole face kind of melted off. BEBEH WRITER LION CUB!

Aw, well, this is so adorable my whole face kind of melted off. BEBEH WRITER LION CUB!

A man without guts lives on his knees. I think this one is about crawling to Old Man Potter like in It’s a Wonderful Life. Or maybe about blow jobs. Yes, with further reflection, I’ve decided it’s about blow jobs.

A man who marries twice is a two-time loser. Oh. Um. This is…negative. Do you think it means you should stay with your first wife? Or do you think the old-time Merkans just hated marriage so so much? A TWO TIME LOSER! Whoa. Very crankity.

A good wife is the best household furniture. Now wives are like a dresser or maybe a chiffarobe? I don’t like the direction this is going. I don’t think I like women being compared to bookcases. BAD BAD BAD MERKANS.

These are nice enough, but a wife is the BEST furniture. I think she'd make a lovely ottoman.

These are nice enough, but a wife is the BEST furniture. I think she’d make a lovely ottoman.

A handsome husband is common property. So…if your husband is handsome he is also a whore? I don’t get this exactly. I would assume most women would think the man they marry is handsome? Because who marries someone they think is ugly? You have to think someone’s attractive. I mean, you don’t hear too many people saying “Yeah, he’s really homely, but he’s got a good heart, so I fell in love with him.” I guess that happens in fairy tales or whatever, but in the real world, not really. Also, Handsome Manwhores, you should probably not be whoring it up. STOP THAT RIGHT NOW. I don’t take kindly to cheating.

Better weak beer than lemonade. …what if you hate beer? And/or have a drinking problem? And really like lemonade?

Beware of a door that has too many keys. What the hell? What is this a euphemism for, exactly? Too many people can get in and out of this place? I don’t get this at all. Wait, is this about sex again? SIDE NOTE: I have a weird thing for keys. I like them a lot. Especially old skeleton keys. I find them evocative and romantic.

Ooh! Listen, just a tip: a man could totally woo me with a bouquet of keys.

Ooh! Listen, just a tip: a man could totally woo me with a bouquet of keys.

By candlelight, every country wench is handsome. UGH OLD TIMEY MERKANS! You are very sexist. This is very much like a MODERN saying, which my brother taught me: “Put a bag over her head and do your business.” Then I slapped my brother. Hard. On the arm where it would sting him all bad and leave a welt. Because who SAYS something like that? Grump grumble grump says I. I think the handsome country wench should burn down this person’s house with the candle. And laugh as she leaves with her handsome, handsome face as this person screams burningly.

Don’t dare kiss an ugly girl, she’ll tell the world about it. WTF OLD TIMEY MERKANS! First, why are you kissing people you aren’t attracted to? Second, if you kiss someone and you are SO EMBARRASSED that someone’s going to find out, you are a douchebag and keep your lips to yourself. Third, who walks around all “I KISSED JIMMY MCDOUCHEBAGGERY?” Maybe back in the old days. Actually, back in the old days, I’m pretty sure if you kissed someone you were halfway on your way to married or something, right?

This reminds me of this song, which always made me bop all around, until I really listened to the words and then I was like, wait, this is kind of offensive and now makes me grimace.

Don’t taste every man’s soup, you’ll burn your mouth. Why are you walking around tasting strangers’ soup? Is this a euphemism for being a whore? Is the burning a euphemism for STDs? Ken’s going to have to give the final answer on this one, but I’m thinking yes.

Due to all that soup-tasting, odds are good this chick has the clap.

Due to all that soup-tasting, odds are good this chick has the clap.

First deserve it, then desire it. Shit, I desire things all the time I don’t deserve. Doesn’t everyone? That’s stupid. Of course we’re not going to only desire things we DESERVE. If that’s the case, I’d probably only desire…what, life in a trailer park and chicken fingers? Ha! WELL! Taught YOU a lesson, I DON’T live in a trailer park! Now where are my chicken fingers.

He who has no enemy has no friend. Why does this list want you to make so many enemies? What is this saying? Your enemy is your friend? Or you know who your true friends are if you make enemies? I find this list suspect. It’s like that one terrible friend that everyone has that wants you to hate everyone but him. “YOU WILL BE MY BEST FRIEND!” says your one terrible friend. “YOU WILL BE MY BEST FRIEND BECAUSE YOU WILL HAVE NO OTHER FRIENDS!”

If the stone hits you, I threw it. Now you’re throwing shit at me? Why are you doing that? What if the stone DIDN’T hit me? By your logic, that means you DIDN’T throw it? I repeat: what the hell did I do that you’re hucking projectiles at me?

I THREW THIS.

I THREW THIS.

It’s easier to go down than up. Blowjobs. They’re talking about blowjobs. Also maybe success and failure, but mostly blowjobs.

If you want a neat wife, choose her on a Saturday. What hoodoo is this? If you meet the woman you’re going to marry on a Saturday, she’s…going to be good at housekeeping? I guess? That’s dumb. What’s she good at if you meet her on a Tuesday? Oh. Probably going down, which is easier than going up. Gotcha.

Let thy maidservant be faithful, strong and homely. SO YOU AREN’T TEMPTED TO HAVE SEX WITH THE HELP AM I RIGHT FELLAS HYUCK HYUCK! This list is obsessed with ugly women and also sex.

Nothing is gained by having one donkey call another, “Long Ears!” THERE ARE TALKING DONKEYS??? Well. That’s exciting. They’re insulting talking donkeys, but talking animals are always fairy-tale-esque, aren’t they? So I think this is about the pot calling the kettle black or something, but mostly what I take away from this is TALKING EFFING DONKEYS.

I don't know what this is but it made me laugh so hard I snorted.

I don’t know what this is but it made me laugh so hard I snorted. And, of COURSE he would. Don’t touch the donkey. BAD TOUCH.

One does not put beauty in a kettle. WHAAAAT? Of COURSE you don’t! Don’t put lovely people in kettles. How big is this kettle, anyway? Like a witches’ kettle? Are you cooking people? What does this MEAN? What is UP with the KETTLE?

I don't know about you, but this is where I keep my beautiful people.

I don’t know about you, but this is where I keep my beautiful people.

She that is born a beauty is half married. Oh, NICE. That’s helpful. Because all you need to hook you a man is the looks, darlin’. This doesn’t make us plain girls depressed at all. Don’t worry about the brains or any of that other nonsense. Look out for his kettle collection, though, because I think he might be wanting to cook you up and make a nice roast out of you.

The ugliest girls make the best housewives. FOR THE LOVE OF PETE. We’re putting people in kettles. We’re screwing ugly girls by candlelight and at the same time we’re refusing to kiss them because they might blabber. And NOW, we’re marrying women SO THEY WILL DO OUR LAUNDRY. And possibly our dishes. Good grief old-timey Merkans, I want to punch you in the schnozzle.

Wedlock is a padlock. But a padlock that does your dishes and gets your dainties Rinso white, am I right?

You can’t tell the depth of the well by the length of the handle on the pump. I laughed so hard when I read this I totally choked on dinner. KEN KEN KEN. There is no WAY this one’s not a euphemism. Right? I totally win euphemism right now. Also, what the hell does this mean? Of course you don’t know how deep a well is by how long the pumphandle is. That doesn’t even make SENSE. If you’re going to write one of these, you could at least write one that isn’t total NONSENSE. But as a euphemism, it’s really kind of the best. How deep is YOUR well? How long is YOUR handle? (SIDE NOTE! I asked Dad about this one? And he knew it IMMEDIATELY. I was all, “DAD! That’s about sex, right?” and he said, “Well, I think it’s about a lot of things. But mostly pumphandles.” He SWEARS that there are pumps with all different length handles and this makes sense. But he also thinks it’s about how you can’t judge a book by its cover, and also – grudgingly – probably sex.)

Hey, that's a nice handle you got there, mister. Very lengthy.

Hey, that’s a nice handle you got there, mister. Very lengthy.

The beard does not make the philosopher. I hope you liked that last one, Ken, because I think this one’s insulting you and your most prestigious beard. I want to argue with this one. Ken has a LOVELY beard. And also is very philosophical. BAD MERKAN FOLK SAYING BAD. Don’t you insult my friend’s beard. I’ll cut you, yo.

I'd like to see you insult THIS guy's facial hair. Look how cheery he is!

I’d like to see you insult THIS guy’s facial hair. Look how cheery he is!

One had better have no dealings with girls with fat legs. Hee! Are fat-bottomed girls still ok, though, do you think? I mean, if I’m remembering correctly, don’t they make the world go ’round, or something? And why are fat-legged girls SO SO BAD? Like, “NO DEALINGS.” None. You can’t even TALK to them. Or let them do your laundry and dishes. Or buy coffee from them at the Starbucks. What if they’re wearing pants? How would you know exactly how chubby those legs are? This one raises a lot of questions for me.

A big wife and a big barn will never do a man any harm. This seems to be advocating fat wives and large outbuildings. I’m a little confused about that. Because the last one didn’t want you to have a wife with fat legs? So this one’s contradicting the last one, so does that mean they render each other null and void? CONFUSING CONFUSING!!!

What have we learned today, chickadees?

  • Old-timey Merkans hated women and also marriage
  • However, old-timey Merkans put up with marriage so someone would scrub their toilets for free
  • Old-timey Merkans wanted you to have enemies
  • Old-timey Merkans insulted Ken’s beard (UNACCEPTABLE)
  • Old-timey Merkans were good at euphemisms
  • There seemed to be a lot of blow-job and sex related sayings in old-timey Merka, which is curious to me
  • Old-timey Merkans may or may not have been cannibalizing their beautiful people (using kettles) and killing lions

So now I feel a little better that my mom’s side of the family is filled with these things, because there’s no WAY my mom and grandmother have ANYTHING as weird as these sayings. None none none. WE ARE NORMAL.*

(*”Normal” compared this list of craziness. We’re FAR from what you people would consider normal. I promise.)


I refuse to count these chickens. Utterly refuse. You can’t make me.

In the past here, we’ve talked about stupid saying and platitudes and such that make me want to stab things with knives. But when I was at work last night (when you work the late shift and things get slow you have a LOT of time for ponderings) I thought, huh, there are totally some of those old sayings that I not only believe, I totally follow as if they’re laws of the land. So I think that means that somewhere deep inside me there’s some sort of old-world housewife or something who throws salt over her shoulder and forks the sign of the evil eye at traveling salesmen.

SUPERSTITIOUS!!!

My mother and grandmother (and I would assume their people before them, but I didn’t know many of them) were very into old country sayings. I’ve mentioned it before, but my favorite saying of my grandmother’s, ever, was “Love will go wherever it’s sent! Even up a pig’s ass.” (This was in reference to a family member who had fallen in love with a jerk.) My grandmother is salty and cusses a lot and hates a lot of people and revels in gossip. She’s not the kind of grandmother you see on sitcoms who comforts you and makes you baked goods (although, yes, she does make baked goods, and they are FANTASTIC. My grandmother’s cooking is a., some of the best, and b., guaranteed to put fifty pounds on you in about 4 days. Her baked beans are known all around the county. People she doesn’t even KNOW ask her to make her famous baked beans. And if you ask her for the recipe, she doesn’t HAVE one. She’s all, “I don’t know, I just throw things in the pan, you know.”) She’s more the type who tells you lurid stories of the time your third cousin’s dick rotted off from the clap because he was having sex with all the whores (if you say, “there were all the whores? In the country? Really?” she changed the subject, so I don’t know that you can believe ALL of her stories), or long, rambling stories where she assumes you know who she’s talking about so she doesn’t use anyone’s names, just “the old guy” or something, and you’re all, “Um…I don’t…who is that?” and finally half an hour later you find out it’s your cousin’s husband’s grandfather who you’ve never met. I assume the pig’s ass saying is kind of a backdoor (heh) way to talk about bestiality. It made me laugh so hard I choked, and she just looked at me benignly, like, “what, that’s just a thing we say around here.” She is also the exact age (to the day!) of Hugh Hefner. I like that both my one-of-a-kind grandmother and smoking-jacketed Hefner were born on the same day, and one started a nudie empire, and one talks about pig-fuckery.

Twinsies with my gramma! I don’t know that she’s the most proud of this fact.

Anyway, as much as I think there are a lot of very, very stupid sayings (I just found, in doing research for this post – WHAT? I totally do research – a whole website of the WEIRDEST SAYINGS EVER, which I will share with you someday) there are some that I totally believe in. Whether this is because I am from cow-country and it’s in my genes (no, not my JEANS, never-you-mind what’s in my jeans, Ding Dong Joe) or this is because I am superstitious or practical or what it is, who knows. WHO EVER KNOWS. Let’s see what country-fresh sayings I totally think are valid, out of the billions of weird ones that are out there that I just (honestly) don’t understand at all.

Don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched. Meaning: don’t count on something before it happens.

Don’t. Don’t you even.

Dad and I talked about this one just the other day. We are in complete agreement about our refusal to chicken-count. He was all, “oh, no. No, of course you don’t do that. Only idiots do that.”

Let me explain. Let’s say you get potential good news. Um…let me make up some potential good news. Someone tells you that in a month, you might get an awesome opportunity to do something you’ve always wanted to do. I’m making this up, please don’t read into this and think I have some sort of opportunity I don’t. Let’s see. Let’s say you’ve always wanted to skydive (ugh, why) and a friend tells you that a month from now, a friend of theirs with a plane and skydiving training will be in the area, maybe, so if they come, would you want to come along and skydive? So you tell EVERYONE YOU KNOW. And you get SO EXCITED. And you start a countdown on Facebook all “22 days til I’m flying like a BIRDIE!” And then a week before the supposed date, your friend sends you a message, “Oh, that fell through, sorry.” You feel like an asshole and you’re so let down and your friends keep asking about the opportunity and you have to tell them all it fell though. If you had just kept QUIET about it, you wouldn’t have to keep EXPLAINING it.

Dad taught me that if you get good news, until you have that good news LOCKED DOWN, you don’t tell ANYONE about that good news. (I break that rule a little – I have a handful of people that I can’t help but tell the good news to, whether it comes to fruition or not. NO, I’m not going to tell you who those people are. THEY ARE MY PEOPLE. Enough said.) My dad is the most secretive person in the world. He doesn’t tell anyone ANYTHING. I’m (well, obviously) not that bad, but anything big-newsy (the theater-review thing, my book, etc.) I don’t want to chicken-count until it’s official-official. What if it got yanked away? I’d feel like a huge jerk, then everyone would be asking about it and I’d have to explain it fell through. Better to not number those chickens until you KNOW they’re your chickens. (The things we learn from our parents are funny, aren’t they? I’ve learned a lot of weird ways-and-means from Dad. I’m an excellent secret-keeper. That’s Dad’s doing. I also refuse to give compliments to people who are fishing for them, I’m extremely weird about money, and I have a strange affinity for John Wayne westerns. Thank you, Dad!)

This kind of chicken always makes me laugh when I see it at the fair. It has Don King hair.

Also, for me, it’s a superstitious thing. I’m weird about a few things. This is one of them. I think if I mention a potential good thing, the world will teach me a lesson by not giving it to me. I know. I KNOW. I’m like a old Italian widow or something.

SIDE NOTE: In researching this, I found that this is a very old saying from the 1800s. Impressive, no? It’s from a poem about a milkmaid and her pail and she was VERY chicken-county and it brought her to ALL THE RUIN. Don’t be the chicken-counter. It’s bad news.

Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t. Meaning: better to deal with what you know than what you don’t, because what you don’t could be worse.

I’m not sure how Crowley on “Supernatural” is a good way to illustrate this statement since he’s more a demon than a devil…but I do admire him a lot, so we’ll go with it.

Now, I’m torn on this. Of course I think sometimes you need to take risks. Nothing is gained without risk. But here is a story. A while ago, I was working for a company that I enjoyed a great deal. (This was a long time ago. I want to say…um…7 years or so ago? A long time before I was Lucy’s Football.) And we got a new CEO. And he was – well, he was a goof. He wasn’t EVIL. He was just kind of a toolbag. He concentrated on the wrong things. Like, one day he was all, “Amy! I need plants for my office. Go to Lowe’s!” and he sent me to Lowe’s and I had to call him on my cell a billion times and describe the plants to him so he could have just the right plants for his office because we didn’t have cameraphones then. Well, I suppose SOMEONE had a cameraphone then, just not me. So he wasn’t EVIL, just SILLY. But a lot of the people at work really couldn’t stand him. And yes, he was a bit pesky, like a mosquito, but he wasn’t EVIL. You could distract him with shiny things, and he was never mean. And sometimes he even laughed. And my coworkers were all, “UGH! We need to get rid of this guy.” And I was like “No. It’s like that old saying; better the devil you know than the devil you don’t. If he leaves, who knows who we’ll get in his place?” AND! True to form, pesky CEO got fired (I don’t remember why…I think he just wasn’t very popular) and a new CEO came in. He was a DICK, you guys. All business; very mean; very yelly. And a couple months later, he brokered a deal to sell the company and we all lost our jobs and the company closed.

Eeeee-vil.

So the devil we knew (pesky CEO, who was not a devil at all, just kind of a mindless dork, I didn’t mind him at all) was MUCH better than the devil we didn’t (who I am CONVINCED had horns hidden under his perfectly-hairsprayed CEO hair-helmet.)

This saying, however, can keep you stuck in a job (I mean…we don’t know anyone who was in THAT situation for the past 6.5 years, do we? let’s think) for much longer than she should be because she is scared that there is nothing better out there for her and that her evil soul-sucking job (the devil she knows) is better than the unknown (unemployment = the devil she doesn’t.) I’m still in limbo about this situation, so I’ll let you all know what the outcome of that is. I’ll judge the devils once I know which one of them is less devilly.

What goes around, comes around Meaning: karma’s a bitch, dude.

Ouroboros! One of my favorite things ever!

This doesn’t always work. But a lot of times, it does. I try to keep it in mind as much as I can when going about my daily life. I can’t always – sometimes you are just in a REALLY REALLY BAD MOOD and you can’t help but be a little more of a bitch than you mean to be. (I don’t always react well under pressure. I’m a lot less “let the PRESSURE turn you into DIAMONDS” than I am “THIS PRESSURE IS MAKING ME LASH OUT LIKE A SEA-HARPY.”) But for the most part, if you put out good, you get good back. No, seriously. Try it sometime.

I’m not innocent enough to think “good things happen to good people ALWAYS AND FOREVER” but my weird nebulous non-religious religious feelings have a strong do-unto-others vibe, and I can just tell you, from my day-to-day observations, that the more good vibes you put out, the more good vibes you get back. The more positive you are, the more positivity you get in return. You are also more prepared to deal with the negative if you have a head full of positive. This is not always easy, but it’s the truth. True things are not always easy, jellybeans.

There’s no such thing as a free lunch Meaning: nothing in this life is free, babe.

Oh, this lunch is free. If you like a little death as a side-dish.

I don’t think this refers to free samples at the Costco, like of cheese or whatever. (Although in order to get those, sometimes you have to listen to someone trying to sell you more cheese, and I hate that. JUST GIMME MA CHEESE.) I think this is more, everything comes with a price. If you think someone’s helping you for free – well, they might be, no money might be attached, but other things might be. You need to be aware. ALSO, and this is tangentially attached – here is something I think needs to be addressed. NO ONE IS OWED ANYTHING IN THIS LIFE. You are owed what you earn. If you live in a country, you are technically owed what the laws of the land provide you – life, liberty, blah blah blah – but don’t expect it. You work your ass off and you get what you work for. If you’re in a tough spot, and your country has social programs to help you out – you paid into that when you were working, technically. I’m not saying you shouldn’t get food stamps or welfare. Don’t be silly. I’m just saying, people who think they’re OWED things – people who are greedy when there are free shows or when they’re given something for free and they complain the free thing isn’t BIG enough – make me INSANE. NOTHING IS FREE. You are owed NOTHING. You work, you make money, you buy yourself what you can afford. End of story. (This is why I very seldom go to free events. I don’t like the attitude of people at free events. They are very entitled and very rude and nothing is good enough. IT IS FREE WHY ARE YOU COMPLAINING.)

You can’t judge a book by its cover Meaning: What you see isn’t always what you get.

I judge this book. I like this. (Also, “It was a pleasure to burn,” just THINKING the phrase, gives me a thrill. EVERY DAMN TIME.)

This is true for books, and people, and cats, and movies, and television shows, and cars, and lots of things. I don’t underestimate things that don’t look like much to begin with. The stillest waters run the deepest. I’ve learned this over and over and over. What’s inside is often not what’s outside. And those of us who realize that are really the lucky ones, because we get the best stuff and aren’t dependent on the shiny.

I’m going to go over here now and NOT count these chickens that MAY OR MAY NOT BE HAPPENING. I spend my life in a constant state of non-chicken-counting, most sincerely. Happy day, all. Shush, you chickens, I don’t even know how many of you there are.


Also, sticks, stones, AND names are all hurtful, you jackoff.

Do you remember a while ago (a LONG while ago, good grief, how the time has flown, I was almost a whole other person then!) we were talking about adages and idioms and platitudes and proverbs and we learned that they are mostly really, really stupid?

Well, today, I was thinking, huh, this has been a day of stupid. We decided at work it was because of the full moon. That brings out the crazy. I know, I know, you’re all, “that’s just a fallacy!” NOPE. You try answering phones on the day of a full moon. Or working retail. Or working in an emergency room. And you tell me it’s not the truth. I’ll laugh right in your scoffy-scoff face, I will.

And as I was leaving, I told one of my coworkers “good luck,” and she said, “Can’t get any worse, right?” and I said, “Well, no, it totally can, and probably will, let’s be honest,” and she looked at me like I killed her puppy. SHIT. I am totally not supposed to say the things I think of, am I. I’m supposed to play the game and be all, “Right! It’s always darkest before the dawn of the days of our lives!” or something. I would be the shittiest cheerleader. And I’d look RIDICULOUS in those skirts.

So let’s talk, again, about some more of these ridiculous things. And, as an added fun bonus, if you make it ALL THE WAY TO THE END, my little cherry pies, I found some that were INSANE. I know! Are you so excited? You should be.

Let's do this. Let's start doing this.

It’s not you, it’s me

What this is supposed to mean: “You’re not to blame; I’m the asshole.” 

What this really means: “I want out of this relationship, like, yesterday, but I don’t want you to be sad. So I’m going to say the STUPIDEST THING TO EVER COME OUT OF ANOTHER HUMAN’S MOUTHHOLE to attempt to save your precious special snowflake feelings.”

Listen, we’ve all been in a shitty relationship we wanted out of. And we’ve probably all said this, at one point or another. I know I have. I can think of two situations when I did. Once when the guy was planning our wedding before we’d even gone on a date and once when the guy was just not at all physically attractive to me and I didn’t know how else to get out of the situation because the thought of kissing him made me alternately sad and worried.

But it’s never really true, is it? I mean, sure. Maybe it’s MOSTLY you. But also, let’s be honest, it’s also them. You’re not the only one in the relationship. There are two of you. And the other person is, to some extent, to blame for the end of the relationship. Even if they don’t know it. Sorry, other person. But sometimes people don’t click. So, yeah. It IS you. It’s totally at least a little bit you. Sorry.

A better substitute: “It’s you. And it’s me. And it’s us, no longer together. Sorry. Please let go of my arm. And blow your nose, that’s so gross, sniffly.”

What if you COULDN'T have this? That would be a crime. A CAKE crime. That's the worst kind, no joke.

You can’t have your cake and eat it, too

What this is supposed to mean: “You can’t have it both ways.” 

What this really means: “Why are you messing with CAKE? Obviously someone didn’t tell you that cake is SACROSANCT.”

OK, I have never, ever, EVER understood this nonsense. You can’t have your cake and also eat your cake. WHAT? Yes you can. That is foolish. You can have your cake. There’s your cake! Your delicious cake! And then you put that cake in your mouth. And it is delicious and tastes of the most delicious cake. SO EFFING DELICIOUS. What kind of horrible tempter gives you cake, then doesn’t allow you to eat that damn cake? Like, the devil would do something along those lines. That is a devil-like thing to do to someone. Just wrong and evil and wrong. DO NOT MESS WITH MY CAKE DEVIL.

A better substitute: “You can not only have your cake, you can nom on that cake. You can nom on that cake ALL DAMN DAY LONG.”

Yep. More like it.

Good things come to those who wait

What this is supposed to mean: “Be patient, and you will be rewarded.”

What this really means: “Shut up, sit in your corner, and you’ll get EXACTLY what you deserve.”

We’ve all heard this one, right? Often when you’re being told to be patient while everyone around you is getting and grabbing and holding onto the brass rings in life and you’re all, where’s mine? WHERE IS MY BRASS RIIINNGGGG? But those brass-ringy people are all, just sit down, wait your turn, it’ll come to you.

Let me tell you a story. I good-things-waited for my whole life. And the good things? They didn’t come. But once I got proactive? THE GOOD THINGS CAME. Because I put myself out there and I REACHED for the good things. And did I, and do I, get ALL the good things? No. But most? Yes. Yes, I do. Because I work hard for them and I TRY for them.

Stop sitting around and get off your ass and start grabbing for your good things. You’ll be glad you did.

A better substitute: “The only thing that comes to those who wait are bedsores. And also bitterness. And anger. GET OFF YOUR ASS.”

Oh, this is the worst. THE WORST. It needs to be on a t-shirt, so I can burn that t-shirt. Also, what is up with that flower? It looks DEFORMED.

A friend in need is a friend indeed

What this is supposed to mean: “…” (I don’t know. IT’S TOO DAMN CONFUSING.)

What this really means: “Your real friends are only your friends when either you or they are needy? Maybe? SO CONFUSED.”

This has always confused the shit out of me. Who’s the friend? You or them? Who’s in need? You or them? Is it supposed to be this vague? Why is it worded so poorly? If it’s YOU that’s in need, shouldn’t it say, “A friend who helps when you’re in need is a friend indeed?” Or if it’s the friend that’s in need, shouldn’t it say, “A friend in need is a pain in the ass?” I’M KIDDING CALM DOWN. I love helping my friends. LOVE LOVE LOVE. It’s one of my favorite things to do, actually. Shh, don’t tell a soul, I’ll lose my rep as a badass.

And is the friend only your friend WHEN they’re in need? That’s shitty. A friend should be a friend all the time, in good OR bad times. I hate this one. It makes me stabby. Mostly because I love my friends. And I don’t like to ever think of them in need of anything. Now I want to bake them all some cookies in case that’s what they’re in need of.

A better substitute: A friend in need is someone you should help without question. They should return the favor. If it isn’t working like that, maybe re-evaluate what’s going on there. And possibly punch that friend in the head twice.

Heh. Yep.

It’s like comparing apples and oranges.

What these are supposed to mean: “It’s like comparing two things that could not be MORE UNLIKE ONE ANOTHER!!!”

What this really means: “I don’t understand how comparisons work.”

When people say this I want to punch them in the face with one of those giant Q-Tips from American Gladiators.

THEY ARE BOTH FRUIT. Also, they’re both vaguely round; they’re both edible; they both grow on trees; they’re both portable; they’re both something you can easily throw at someone; and they both smell good.

They have more similarities than differences. Why the hell is this such a ubiquitous phrase? Shouldn’t it compare two things that are COMPLETELY different? Circus tents and gravel? Rotting fish and pigeon feathers? I mean, I just came up with those on the fly, I’m sure others could do better.

A better substitute: “It’s like comparing tigers and hotels.”

OK, now for the insane ones. I found these on this weird website with lots of odd phrases from foreign locales and climes.

Ready? I’ve been waiting forever to share these, I’m so excited.

Don't you even poke me, you've only known THE MAN for three years.

“You may poke a man’s fire after you’ve known him for seven years.”

Hee! I love this one because it’s totally a euphemism, if you want it to be. And I usually do. I’m looking forward to knowing some people for seven years so I can POKE their FIRES. If you KNOW what I MEAN. Heh heh.

But let’s pretend it’s NOT a euphemism. Is it really telling you that you’re not allowed to poke a man’s fire until you’ve been friends for seven years? Why seven years? What an arbitrary number. And why is this man so proprietary about his fire? Is a fire so sacred?

This has had me giggling all night long, seriously.

Apparently this is totally a thing. SO WEIRD.

“Better to wear out shoes than sheets.”

Um. What?

If you wear out shoes, you’re…what, walking? Running? Hiking?

If you wear out sheets, you’re…um…well, I guess you could be sleeping. But probably, let’s be frank, you’re engaging in the other activity that takes place in a bed, right? NO NOT CROCHETING. Having all the sex.

So, it’s BETTER to walk or run or hike than screw like a happy bunny?

I’m honestly befuddled here. I don’t know what to even think about this one. The internet says it means “get out of bed and get to work.” I think that’s stupid. What do you all think?

And and and AND. My FAVORITE. From Germany! So you know it’s good.

“In American, half an hour equals forty minutes.”

What? Is Germany accusing us of being slow? What does this mean? KEN KEN KEN KEN why is Germany accusing us of being so slow? I thought maybe it was the opposite and that other countries think we’re all crazy fast and spastic. Now I’m desperate to know about this slow reputation we seem to have.

Ooh, maybe we’re like Slow Donnie and we’re slow in a GOOD way. Oh, that’s the take I’m going with on this one. We’re totally slow in a good way.

(The whole clip is the best thing ever, but skip to 2:18 to see how we’re slow in a good way, if you’re in a time-crunch. Or just a jerk, I guess. WHY DO YOU HATE DAVID CROSS.)

I guess these last few phrases are good; they show America doesn’t corner the market on foolishness. But the exotic foreign foolishness seems fancier somehow. SIGH. When am I going to foreign locales in order to listen to awesome adages and such?

Happy Sunday, people of the world. Stop being silly. Say what you mean. Thanks so much. I don’t want to have to come back here six months from now and take you all to task again. Who KNOWS where my mind would be six months from now. I might be a CIRCUS PERFORMER then. Or a HORSE TRAINER. You never really know, life’s a funny thing with the twists and turns.


You Knew What I Was When You Picked Me Up

This is the Deathstalker scorpion. It can kill a man. Also, "Deathstalker." Most awesome name of anything, EVER.

I try to remember the scorpion when I’m going about my daily business.

You all know the story, right? I wasn’t aware until I started looking into it, but apparently it’s really, really old. Like, third-century-B.C. old. So, back in the third century, before Jesus was all water-into-wining and whatnot, people were talking about the scorpion and the frog. Or sometimes, the scorpion and the turtle, but I’m going with frog, because frogs are softer and easier to injure.

And yet we never fucking learn.

In case you didn’t click above (and LISTEN YAHOOS, I look at my clicks, and I notice you are not clicking, and that is just SO SAD, are your clickers broken? Is it the fact that, like my brother says, you all have one hand? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?) I will tell you the story of the scorpion and the frog. But, Amy-style, because listen, what’s not better, Amy-style? Very little, is the answer.

Once upon a time in a kingdom nowhere near the sea, there lived a frog. The frog was a damn dirty hippie, all “peace love DOPE!” and shit, and hopping along all willy-nilly and probably dropping acid or whatever damn dirty hippie-frogs do, I don’t know, whatever, wearing frog peace-beads and stinking up the joint with frog-patchouli or some such nonsense. One day, Hippie Frog decided, “Duuuude, I think I’ll swim over this here river, see what’s on the other side, maybe they got some better grass, you dig?” So he got all ready to do so, and a scorpion came up to him.

“Dearest frog, with your lovely scent of, oh, what is that, patchouli? How utterly delightful,” said the scorpion. “I am a very poor swimmer, being a scorpion. Perhaps you, as a frog of many talents, one of which being superior aquaticism, would be willing to give me a ride on your back across this wild and woolly river?”

Hippie Frog, even through his dope-haze, was savvy to this jive. “Whoa, wait a minute, you’re a SCORPION,” he said. “I know what will happen. I’ll get halfway across the river, and you’ll sting me and I’ll die. You can’t fool ME, scorpion-dude. I wasn’t born YESTERDAY, you know.”

The scorpion nodded sagely. “Well-played, Sir Frog, well-played indeed. Yes, it is true. I, as a scorpion, am known for my fearsome stinger. Yet, it would not behoove me to sting you while we were crossing the river. We would both perish, if I were to do that; so, you can see, you have nothing to lose, and only my friendship to gain, by assisting me in my traveling task. I promise your safety, my good man, on our mutual river crossing. On that you have my word as a scorpion. My, but those are lovely beads, did you get them at that precious corner headshop run by that psychoactive toad?”

Well, Hippie Frog so wanted to be helpful. And the scorpion had a good point! And he had PROMISED! And what if, after the river crossing, he and the scorpion could become friends? It would be like a little project! He could win where everyone else had failed! It would be epic! Songs would be sung! Stories would be told!

“Hop on scorpion-friend,” the frog said. “Let’s get to swimmin’.”

So Hippie Frog started swimming, his head full of dreams: oh, the friendship he and his BFF the scorpion would have! The picnics they would go on together! The inside jokes they would crack! The double dates they would venture out upon! People would be so jealous of such a close friendship; even more so, because the frog had been brave, and had won over the scorpion. Hippie Frog knew that everyone said the scorpion was bad news, but that was just idle talk, nothing more. I mean, seriously, dude! This was going – pun most definitely intended – SWIMMINGLY!

OUCH. SHIT. WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT.

“Um, scorpion-dude, did you just sting me?” Hippie Frog asked, his head starting to get fuzzy, his arms and legs starting to fail in their perfect froggy breaststroke. “Why? Why? You promised. YOU PROMISED!”

“Ah, yes, that I did,” the scorpion said, and Hippie Frog thought he even seemed a little sad as his eyesight started to go and they both started to go under. “But, Sir Frog, I’m a scorpion. You knew that, going into it. It’s in my nature.”

Now, this story’s been told in a variety of ways, and in a variety of places – the movie Natural Born Killers (LOVE), the movie The Crying Game (remember how we all tried not to spoil that for each other when it first came out? Aw, weren’t we all so cute, pre-interwebs?), the movie Skin Deep (no idea what this even is and don’t care enough to research it) and Star Trek: Voyager (sorry, not a Star Trek person, but I’m sure someone reading this is and remembers it from there.) I, oddly enough, first heard it in a sermon in church, so you know it was a long time ago, before me stepping foot into church would mean me going up in a pillar of flame. Yeah, I know. I have no idea what it was referring to, or how it tied into God or whatever. I just remember listening to the story and thinking shit, but that explains a lot, yo.

There’s also the snake/girl version, which I actually like even more:

A girl finds a viper freezing to death in the snow. “Please,” the snake says, with its last breath. “Please, pick me up and put me in your coat. If you do not, surely I will die.”

The girl is afraid, and rightfully so. I mean, she’s not a honey badger. Venom would kill her, not just make her take a brief nap.

“I can’t, you’ll bite me and I’ll die,” she says.

“No, I would never,” the snake says. “I’d be eternally grateful to you for saving my life. Please. Please help me. You’re my only hope.”

The girl, who wants to be a good girl, always and forever, and you know, like girls do, can’t turn down a plea for help, because that’s just BAD and that’s just WRONG, scoops up the snake and nestles it close to her heart, and begins to walk home, so proud of herself for how giving and kind and righteous she is.

After a bit, the snake begins to warm up. After a bit more, the snake opens its jaws and sinks its teeth into the girl’s breast.

As the girl sinks to her knees in the snow, she cries, “Why? I saved you. I saved you. Why would you do this to me?”

Simply, the snake says, “You knew what I was when you picked me up.”

I think of this story a lot.

I think of this story when someone tells me that the guy they’ve been living with for two years, who’s always been kind of a cock and always been kind of yelly is STILL a cock and is STILL yelly and it finally got to the point where they couldn’t take it anymore so they moved out and why didn’t he change? Why didn’t he stop being a cock? Why didn’t he stop being yelly?

Verdict: You knew he was a scorpion when you moved in with him.

I think of this story when someone says they were roped into an online scheme and got their entire bank account wiped out, and YES, it seemed like a really, really good deal, but they just thought, hey, I finally got lucky, for once! It’s my turn! It’s my time! And they heard horror stories from people who went through similar things, but they were all, IT WON’T HAPPEN TO ME!

Verdict: You knew it was a scorpion when you gave it your bank account information.

I think of this story when someone says they met someone who had a girlfriend, and they were the “other woman” for a while, and then he finally broke up with his girlfriend, and things were SO STELLAR ZOMG for a while, and they were SO HAPPY, and then he started being shady, and getting a lot of texts, and making these weird phone calls, and having to work late, and then he broke up with them for ANOTHER WOMAN.

Verdict: You knew he was a scorpion when you started sleeping with him behind his girlfriend’s back.

I think of this story when someone tells me that their heart is broken because they fell in love with someone who flat-out TOLD them they didn’t want a relationship, that it was just a friends-with-benefits thing, but they thought, “NO! It’ll CHANGE! He’ll fall in LOVE with me, once we’ve been doing this long enough! He’s just SAYING that! It’s what guys SAY!”

Verdict: You knew he was a scorpion when he straight-up told you his intentions for the relationship and you chose to ignore them.

Now, not every situation is a “you knew he was a scorpion” situation. Sometimes, the scorpions hide and lurk and they don’t announce themselves. Sometimes, you’re dating someone for a while and then BAM you find out they’ve had a girlfriend or wife the whole time. In that case, you DIDN’T know he was a scorpion. THIS IS NOT YOUR FAULT. However, now that you KNOW he is a scorpion, you cannot blame anyone but yourself for sticking around waiting to get stung again.

Or sometimes, the person wasn’t a scorpion the whole time! Sometimes, the person just POW! BECOMES a scorpion! It is not predictable, and again, NOT YOUR FAULT. But now you know. And once you know, IT IS TIME TO GO. Don’t beat yourself up; just pack your bags and hit the road, Jack or Jacqueline, you don’t need to be hanging around there waiting for the stinger to drop. If you do, you’re going to be sinking to the bottom of the river like that dirty patchouli-reeking hippie-frog.

The problem, as I see it, is that we, as a species, both men and women, like to think we’re special. We’re brought up (more so now, not so much, say, in my parents’ generation) that we’re all such special damn snowflakes. And, when presented with a challenge, or a project, or a “climb every mountaaaiiiiinnnnn”, or whatever, we want to be the one. We want to say, “Yeah, Jimmy was a total player, until he met me. And then I was THE ONE! And he totally calmed right down, and now he’s just the best family man!” Or “Jane was all career and dating when I met her, but once we got together, she’s all about being a mom and I mean, seriously, smokin’-hot, too, am I right? She’s ALL MINE and I am WINNING.” We want to be the one who wins; we want to be the only one who could tame the scorpion. WE ARE INDIVIDUAL AND SPECIAL AND UNIQUE DAMMIT.

We like a project, we like a fixer-upper, because then we can say we did it, we fixed it up, we can take pride in having done that, we can be the winner, it is ours now. And we like to be the ONLY one who could do that.

Thing is, it blows up in our faces, more often than not. It’s an effing scorpion, you idiot. It’s not going to calm down. You’re not the Scorpion Whisperer. I mean, I suppose there’s a chance you MIGHT be, but that chance is pretty remote. Like, snowball-in-hell, melting-all-over, isn’t-this-just-like-the-worst-mess-you’ve-ever-seen remote.

I’m totally a victim of this. I’m not going to lie and tell you “I AM TOTALLY ABOVE ALL OF THIS SO LISTEN TO WHAT I SAY I AM THE BEST THING.” Nope. I’m not always the most SYMPATHETIC to the people who pick up scorpion after scorpion, but I’m a victim of it too, sorry to tell you. I’m not Superwoman. I like a project. I like to win. I get sucked into bringing the scorpion across the friggin’ river time and again, I’ll admit it right up front. Just when I think I recognize the scorpion right away, the scorpion changes and comes at me in a different scorpion-disguise and I’m all “HEADDESK! OH, YOU STUPID TRICKY-ASS SCORPION.”

But I try to remember the scorpion. I try to tell myself, listen, THAT IS A SCORPION. Because if you pick up a scorpion, there really is no one to blame but yourself. You can’t blame a scorpion; that’s its nature. Here, I’ll give it to you in all-caps, set apart from everything else:

A SCORPION IS GOING TO STING YOU.

Whether you’re a hippie-frog or a girl with a snake in her coat or a grown-ass woman, you’re going to get stung.

Solution: watch out for the scorpions. If you listen, they announce themselves. Then get the hell away from the scorpions.

Seems simple, but isn’t always. Your stupid heart often gets in the way. But I promise: you’re better off not carrying scorpions across the river or snakes in your coat. The outcome is kind of already determined for you.

I mean, except if you’re a hippie-frog, then maybe you deserved it. Patchouli is the worst.


Also, you’ll break an axle on the road less traveled by. YOU’RE WELCOME.

I was texting a friend of mine the other day, and he was being motivational (as he does, because, well, he’s full of the awesome) and he said something along the lines of “it is what it is.” Then he said, “but not that, because I hate that. My boss says that ALL THE TIME. And I hate that. It is SO STUPID.”

So that started me thinking (because listen, you can tell me one thing, and my brain goes in a COMPLETELY DIFFERENT DIRECTION, it is INSANITY, or maybe BRILLIANCE, yeah, probably brilliance, I mean, who am I to argue with the path my brilliance chooses to take?) about platitudes, and proverbs, and motivational sayings, and the like.  Yes, yes, we talked about idioms once before, I KNOW THAT BUZZKILL MCGURK, THIS is DIFFERENT, so stop RUINING IT for EVERYONE, you’re totally the reason we can’t have nice things.

Sometimes you want to cheer someone up, or cheer someone on, because they are having a totally horrible day/week/month or whatever period of time is sucking for them. Some people do this with gifts; some people do this by visiting the person and being cheerful and helpful; some people do this by spouting nonsensical platitudes until you want to spin their head around until it pops off like the safety top of a tube of Krazy Glue.

Also? Most platitudes/proverbs are VERY VERY STUPID when you look at them closely. There are much better things you can say to someone who’s having a hard time of things than a regurgitated, overused, trite saying that’s been said so many times it stops having any meaning at all, like when you say the word “turtle” too many times and it starts sounding weird, like it’s not even a word at all anymore.

Let’s take a look at some, shall we? I chose some that are especially irritating to me, but I’m sure there are more. I’d be glad to dissect and snark at your least-favorite platitudes or proverbs for you, for a nominal fee, somewhere down the line. I’ll send you my PayPal address.

Cats wearing clothes will never not be funny to me.

It is what it is

What this is supposed to mean: “Don’t stress too much; there’s no point.” 

What this really means: “I’m a dumbo and I just spit out words like I’m a cheap whore of a word vending machine. Also, I don’t care one iota about whatever you’re telling me but I’m saying this to make it look like I do.”

This has become a thing recently, and it needs to stop now. It’s something that bosses say a lot, I’ve noticed. I think they might think it makes them look intelligent. SPOILER ALERT: it makes you look the opposite of that.

“I’ve lost my keys, my cat died, and my boyfriend’s cheating on me with a syphilis-ridden whore!” “Eh, you know. What can you do? It is what it is, Judy.”

“My mom just called. My brother’s been in a car accident! But I’ll lose my job if I take any more personal time!” “It is what it is, Fred. It is what it is.”

There’s never a time that saying this doesn’t make you sound like you’re bored out of your mind with whatever the person said to you. STOP SAYING IT. 

A better substitute: “That totally sucks. Who can I put a hit on for you to ameliorate this situation?”

Does that even LOOK dark to you? NO IT DOES NOT.

It’s always darkest before the dawn

What this is supposed to mean: “Just when it seems things are at their worst, they’re about to get better.” 

What this really means: “I have no idea how the world works, astronomically or meteorologically.”

This is wrong on two levels.

One, things DON’T always get magically better just when they’re at their worst. TRUST ME. Sometimes, what you think is the worst? Is just the teeniest, tiniest iceberg-tip of worst, and you’re about to get hit with MORE of that sucker. I mean yes, someday, things might get better. But don’t automatically assume, just because things seem like they’re at their absolute nadir, they’re about to make an uptick. That’s not always the case.

Two, I want to know on what part of the globe it’s darkest before the dawn. Right before the dawn, little fingerlets of dawn-light are peeping out. It’s that weird, almost sepia-toned light. It’s darker at 2am, honestly. Who even wrote this nonsense? The interwebs just tell me it’s an old proverb. UNHELPFUL INTERWEBS. I want to BLAME someone.

A better substitute: “What you’re going through is horrible. Can I bake you some cookies? Or possibly put a hit out on someone for you?”

I like that this is in quotes. Who is it quoting? God, probably. Probably God.

There but for the grace of God go I

What this is supposed to mean: “I should feel sympathy for that person; he or she could be me.”

What this really means: “I’m blessed by the Lord Almighty for my righteousness, while that poor sap is cursed, possibly because he spilled his seed, like Onan.”

People who are very religious say this (and I’m sure non-religious types, too, don’t want to be exclusionary), usually when an acquaintance is gossiping. “Did you hear? Dorothy’s husband was found asphyxiated in his closet wearing only a clown wig and her wedding dress!” “Aw, bless her heart. There but for the grace of God go I.”

Really, what you’re saying here is that God loves you, so he didn’t pass this judgment onto your head, while, conversely, he HATES that other person SO MUCH that he SMOTE him or her. That’s totally judgey of you, right? Who are you to say that God had a hand in that dude’s autoerotic asphyxiation? I think God took one look at that situation and was all “NOPE GROSS I AM OUT OF HERE CLOWN WIG HARRY” and went off to play Skee-Ball at the Jersey shore. (If you get that reference, I love you long time.)

A better substitute: “That sucks for Dorothy. You should stop gossiping, Myrtle. Or someone might let it drop you’ve been soaking your morning cornflakes with gin instead of milk every day. Just saying.”

Hands! Butterflies! Restful colors! I'm about to go into a LOVE COMA!

If you love something, set it free. If it comes back to you, it is yours. If it doesn’t, it was never yours to begin with.

What this is supposed to mean: “Don’t strangle people with love, it doesn’t work.”

What this really means: “I’m a dirty hippie! Peace, love, dope!”

I love my cats. I really, really love them. Like, crazy amounts. So when I get home, I think I’ll just open my front door, because they’re really curious about the world out there. If they come back, THEY ARE MINE.

I also totally love The Nephew. So I’m going to ask his mom if I can take him shopping when I go home for Christmas. Then I’m going to abandon him in the middle of Kmart, and go out to the car and wait for him to come to me. I’m pretty sure he will. He’s a pretty smart toddler. When he does, HE IS MINE.

What the hell with this saying? I think it’s from that horrible Love Story novel that makes me throw up in my mouth from all of the sap. I mean, I get don’t be too needy and strangly (well, no, I don’t GET it, I totally DO it, I get the SENTIMENT behind it, it doesn’t mean I’ve ABSORBED it) but I’m supposed to, what, tell my true love (is it the same asshat who was buying me all those birds the other day?) to go out and grind on a stripper, and if he comes back, THIS IS MINE I KEEP THIS NOW? Eff that.

A better substitute: If you love something, let it know you love it. If it doesn’t love you back, punch it in the neck super-hard and then drink a lot of wine and listen to Martha Wainwright’s “Bloody Motherfucking Asshole” on repeat for a week or so. All will be well, my little butterbean.

I don't think that's true. I think every cloud has MORE CLOUD as the lining.

Always look on the bright side/every cloud has a silver lining/when God closes a window, he opens a door

What these are supposed to mean: “Cheer up, peanut, nothing’s 100% bad!”

What these really mean: “My overwhelming cheeriness is desperate in its cluenessness!”

Let me know if this sounds familiar. You had a shitty day. I mean, the shittiest. Your alarm didn’t go off, so you were late getting up. You had to rush around to get ready. You got toothpaste all over your work shirt so you had to change. You get to work and they just keep piling it on and on and ON and they’re all “deadline! Deadline! Move FASTER! You don’t need to take LUNCH, do you?” so you scarf your sad sandwich at your sad desk and keep working. When you get home, you realize you should have stopped for groceries because you have, like, nothing to eat but you were SO GODDAMNED EXHAUSTED. So you write to a friend, just blasting, as you do, telling them about your shitty day.

And they respond with, “Always look on the bright side! Some people don’t even HAVE a job!”

SHUT YOUR EFFING CAKEHOLE.

Yes, yes. First world problems! You knew that when you started blasting. But sometimes? You just need a sympathetic ear. You don’t want someone to point out all of your blessings. You want someone who will say, “THAT SUCKS; I LOVE YOU.” That’s how you know who your true friends are, in my opinion. Sure, they try to help you out when you have problems, but also, they know when you just need to vent, and their answer is, “THAT SUCKS; I LOVE YOU.” (All caps and semicolon are, of course, not mandatory; however, extra points for me if included.)

A better substitute: “THAT SUCKS; I LOVE YOU.” Also, “That hit I said I’d put out on someone for you is totally still on the table, babe.”

There are many more. TONS more. But this is getting way lengthy, and I kind of have to pee. So, in summation: be more creative with your cheerleading. Your friends will appreciate it. And if you keep trotting out these boring old standards when your friends are having issues, I give your friends permission for neck-punching or hammer-hitting. PERMISSION GRANTED. You’ve been warned. Remember: you can never go wrong by offering to take a hit out on someone who’s being a douchecanoe to a friend. It PROVES you LOVE them. I promise.


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