Go ahead. Read and revere everything I write. I do.

Category Archives: I make myself laugh

So many facets of our day to day life are performed based on a matter of opinion or preference. I understand that everyone is entitled to their own, but my opinion is that if you don’t do it like me, then you’re wrong.

For instance:

which direction does toilet paper go over or underToilet paper goes over, not under. EngineeringDegree.net – which sounds legit – even did a study, with all sorts of science and numbers and logistics that I can not concern myself with, which discovered that the average American spends a half hour of their lives, every year, trying to find the end of the toilet paper roll. That’s one entire episode of The Mindy Project that you could be watching. You should watch The Mindy Project anyways. So save everyone some time and do it the right way.

If you have the option of using a ceiling light or a table lamp, you choose the table lamp. The exception to this, of course, is if you’re painting your nails. Then you use both. Duh.

how to make peanut butter and jellyYou make a pb & j sandwich by applying peanut butter to both slices of bread. Apply the jelly, on top of the peanut butter, onto only one slice. Never, ever, should you have more jelly than you have peanut butter. It’s a 2:1 pb to jelly ratio, people.

The jelly must be strawberry.

You eat mints one at a time. You’re not a heathen. There’s no reason to go through an entire package of Altoids or Tic Tacs in one sitting.

Choose a method to run your fridge and run it. In a refrigerator, all of the salad dressings go next to all of the salad dressings. All of the beverages go on one shelf, designated only  for beverages. Dairy products, excluding cheese, all go on one shelf. If you’re reading this, you’re probably not living at a frat house, and your refrigerator should represent that.

Speaking of cheese, squeeze all the air out when closing a bag. and I mean ALL of it. Lock that shit up tighter than … Hmm … insert celebrity virgin joke here, because I can’t think of one. A celebrity, not a joke. The joke is obvious, correct?

Ok. Time for a pop quiz. What is the correct way to eat m&ms?

Trick question. There is no wrong way to eat m&ms.

how to eat m and ms

Bro, doing this wastes so much chocolate. You’re wrong.


This is my cousins' elf, Timby. Granted, this picture is cute but looks at his eyes. His eyes!

This is my cousins’ elf, Timby. Granted, this picture is cute but looks at his eyes. His eyes!

While I appreciate the pictures that everyone posts, and the creative ideas that they come up with, I’m going to stand firm on my belief that the Elf on the Shelf is creepy. First of all, growing up, I imagined a North Pole full of very short people or, well, midgets. Think Benard from The Santa Clause or all the magical, little guys in the Jaclyn Smith classic, The Night They Saved Christmas. I don’t like the idea that Santa’s elves are these creepy, small, cousins-of-Chuckie like dolls. I especially don’t like that they sneak around your house, watching your every move. What happened to the good-old-days, when Santa just watched you from his magic, Wicked-Witch-of-the-West-esque ball? Because that was a real thing. Right?

What is up with the morals they were pushing in the Claymation holiday movies of the late ‘60s? Or, lack thereof, I should say. Rudolph is 14 seconds old and Donner is already ashamed of him. C’mon now. Give him time to grow, and shame your family by flashing his goods at spring break or being caught with marijuana, like most normal kids. You’re going to give him flack because his nose glows? Guess what, Mr. and Mrs. Donner – that nose didn’t just come out of nowhere. You guys made him. Which one of you messed up?

Also, how come it’s cool for Coach Comet to encourage the other reindeer to laugh at Rudolph? If that happened today, he wouldn’t have time for games because he’d be prancing through lawsuit papers, that’s what. Santa also isn’t very welcoming, only accepting Rudolph’s “individuality” when it’s convenient for him at the end. Santa, I love you and I’m sure you have a lot on your mind. That is why I will forgive you for not IMMEDIATELY thinking “Hmm. It sort of makes sense to have a bright light guiding this sleigh, now doesn’t it?”

"Sorry, boys. If we want to stay warm, this is just what we have to do. Oh, that? That's just my ice pick."

“Sorry, boys. If we want to stay warm, this is just what we have to do. Oh, that? That’s just my ice pick.”

What are they teaching children up north? (Is Hermie a child? I’m unclear on the schematics of elf biology. I DO know that he isn’t scary elf-on-the-shelf size. Which is good.) Rudy and Hermie bump into a gypsy-esque gold-digger (who has a questionable beard) and within MINUTES, they’re both on his sleigh, riding off into the sunset (or, a creepy basement). Stranger. Danger!

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again – A Very Brady Christmas is one of the best Christmas movies of all time and I will fight you on this, so don’t even try.

We’re getting our tree this weekend, which is very exciting for me. Since The Husband and I pretty much jet-setted around the world this year, we have several new ornaments that I’m itching to put on the tree. I bet you wished that you had a recycled-tin-dolphin-wearing-a-Santa-hat-made-by-a-local-in-Roatan, Honduras but you don’t. Probably. If you do, we should start a very exclusive club. With t-shirts.

Well, folks, we are still very early in the season, so I’m sure I will be back with a couple more holiday posts, so don’t you fret my pet (whatup Urkel?!)


Dearest Kesha (I refuse to use a dollar sign for your ‘S’.)

Yes, its true that I dislike you. I think you lack any real talent, and are trying to ride the “eccentric” girl coat tails of Gaga and Katy Perry. However, after recently scrutinizing the lyrics to your song ‘Tick Tock”, I am concerned that your blasé attitude towards your mental health and safety has put you at risk.

Wake up in the morning feeling like P Diddy
(I’m going to stop you right there. Why would a 20-something white girl wake up feeling like a black, male, 40-something music mogal?)

Grab my glasses, I’m out the door. I’m gonna hit this city
(I hope you are on your way to your psychiatrist appointment, because waking up as another person is known as dissociative identity disorder, and that’s nothing to joke around with. I’m also going to go out on an edge and assume you are grabbing sunglasses. Based on the rest of this song, you have real problems with alcohol which, no doubt, leads to never ending hang-overs.)
Before I leave, brush my teeth with a bottle of Jack (I’m sure 3 out of 4 dentists agree there are better ways you can go about cleaning your teeth. At least mix in some floride.)

‘Cause when I leave for the night, I ain’t coming back (Freshman year of college, we watched a video that told us we should always alert someone to where we’ll be for the evening. Safety purposes.)

I’m talking pedicure on our toes, toes.
Trying on all our clothes, clothes.
Boys blowing up our phones, phones.
(There you go, talking about yourself in the plural form, which again reinforces my previous notion that you have a psychological condition.)
Drop-topping, playing our favorite CDs

(Don’t be foolish, Kesh. Nobody plays cds anymore. Unless THIS personality is straight up outta the 90s. I hope she’s wearing a baby-doll dress. Those were da bomb diggity.)
Pulling up to the parties
Trying to get a little bit tipsy

(Considering you brushed your teeth with a bottle of Jack, I really do not think you’re in any position to be driving right now.)

Don’t stop, make it pop
DJ, blow my speakers up
Tonight, I’mma fight

‘Til we see the sunlight

(Fact: Alcohol lowers your inhibitions and can make a person more aggressive.  Suppressing anger and not addressing your psychological issues may turn you into a mean drunk.  And nobody likes that guy at a party.)
Tick tock on the clock
But the party don’t stop, no

Ain’t got a care in world, but got plenty of beer

(Should you be mixing alcohol with all of the medications you are obviously on due to your D.I.D?)
Ain’t got no money in my pocket, but I’m already here

(You’ve spent it all on pedicures and alcohol. Now how are you going to get home? Hopefully, you remembered to save a few bucks for a cab.)
And now, the dudes are lining up cause they hear we got swagger
But we kick ’em to the curb unless they look like Mick Jagger

(Ahh, I was wondering when your “daddy issues” would surface. It is unnerving to me that a twenty year old girl would want to hang out with a 70 year old man.  You should call Percy from The Green Mile. I hear he likes ‘em young.)

I’m talking about everybody getting crunk, crunk

(I hope you are not mixing coke with alcohol.)
Boys tryin’ to touch my junk, junk

(Did you give them permission? Otherwise, this is considered sexual assault. Stick up for yourself, K!)
Gonna smack him if he getting too drunk, drunk

(Phew.)

Now, now we go until they kick us out, out

(Again, how are you getting home?)
Or the police shut us down, down

(Oh, so they’re driving you? Excellent.)
Police shut us down, down
Po-po shut us

Don’t stop, make it pop.
DJ, blow my speakers up.

(I don’t think you’re at your place of residence, so you don’t own said speakers.  Since you ‘ain’t got no money’ in your pocket, I would re-think the purposeful destruction of someone else’s property.)
Tonight, I’mma fight
‘Til we see the sunlight
Tick tock on the clock
But the party don’t stop, no

DJ, you build me up
You break me down
My heart, it pounds
Yeah, you got me

With my hands up
You got me now
You got that sound
Yeah, you got me

Now, the party don’t start ’til I walk in

 

Sweetie, the party has been going on all night.  You arrived ages ago. It concerns me that you don’t remember what seemingly happened hours before.  Maybe you should call your mother, your doctor or another trusted adult so they can get you the help you need.  And – let’s cross our fingers – hopefully, when you work through all your issues, you’ll realize that you’re not quite the lyrical genius you hoped you were and, more importantly, that you really have no business singing and pandering to an audience of pre-teen girls.

Sincerely yours,

Heather Wheeler