yes, i’m like this in real life, too

Reading my sarcasm on this here blog is one thing. I mean, if it gets too much, you can always just stop reading and go Google pictures of unicorns or something. But those few, unfortunate souls who have to deal with me in real life are not so lucky. And, believe me, I am just as sarcastic in the flesh as I am in type. Probably more so, because seeing me live you get the added bonus of hand gestures and facial expressions.

I don’t (yet) have a video crew following me around all day, so there is no real proof of my innate snarkyness.  However, I do have snipets of real-world conversations thanks to the convenience of text messaging.

My husband is used to my sarcasm, so he gladly plays along.

Sometimes, he lacks the subtlety that I bring to the table.


I really love that I have awesomely funny friends to set me up so beautifully. They really should know better than to encourage my behavior.


However, sometimes the stars align, the clouds part, a ray of light shines down from above and a chorus of angels sing as an unsuspecting victim friend steps right into my vortex of sarcasm.


Brian still talks to me, believe it or not.

(And, yes, this post is just a thinly veiled attempt by me to show you all how very clever I am. And to finally use my iPhone’s “print screen” function.)

retro fun: players and haters edition

Yeah. I’m still making these. Everyone’s gotta have a hobby, right?

And yes, I say “players and haters” instead of “playas ‘n hatas” because I’m a 37 year old white woman with a desk job.  Word.

If you like these, be sure to check out my Retro Fun page. If you don’t like these, then you should definitely never, ever go to my Retro Fun page. Seriously. Don’t even hover your cursor over it cause you might accidentally click on it and see more of these defaced old ads and then you’ll either start screaming or crying, but either way, I don’t need that drama right now.  

this is not the blog you’re looking for part 3: i still know what you searched last summer

Yep. It’s time for another search term round-up here at the FIOD corral. So, straighten your Stetson and sharpen your spurs ’cause this filly’s a feisty one.  And, if any of you fellas are ridin’ bare-back under your chaps, you’re at the wrong rodeo.

However, whoever found me with these search terms ended up in the right place:
sarcastic Christmas lyrics
sarcastic remarks about Christmas
sarcastic Christmas
sarcastic Christmas list
sarcastic Christmas pictures

I have these Christmas-themed retro ads to thank for those searches.

Then someone had to go and ask:
can you use sarcastically in a sentence

Puh-leeze! I can sarcastically use sarcastically in a sentence.  I work in sarcasm the way other artists may work in oils or clay. (Bonus points if you know this movie reference. Yes, I’m being sarcastic. There are no “points.”)

Then, as is often the case, things take a turn for the weird.

man gets attacked by flying toast – Toast can smell fear, you know.

suck a cork and massage a grape at the same time – I think you may want to follow the ass-less chaps fellas out of here.

happy person with drill – That’s much better than sad person with a drill, let me tell ya.

mad baby seals -  But, they’re so cute when they’re angry! They get mad when you say that, by the way.  Which just makes them cuter!

I'm mad at you. Stop giggling! I'm serious! Grr!

whispy ambigram – Is this some sort of pretentious new age Enya cover band or something?  They can go on tour with Feathery Palindrome and Misty Spoonerism.  (I think I new a girl in high school named Misty Spoonerism.)

just add a kid – What is the best way to ruin your life, Alex? (Aw, stop it! I’m just joking. Geesh!)

grandpa’s soggy balls – I quadruple-dog-dare any of you to do a Google image search of this.  At work. On your boss’s computer.

kitten kills a retard – I . . . umm . . .uhh . . .  Okay, internet.  You win, man.  You win.
::holds up hands and backs slowly out of the room::

As with most sequels, you may want to start at the beginning:
This is Not the Blog You’re Looking For
This is Not the Blog You’re Looking For Part 2: The Wrath of Google

 

a migraine of idiots

I'm a gnu. What's so hard to believe about that?

We know that a group of wolves is called a pack and a group of cows is a herd.  When crows flock together they’re called a murder and a rhino gathering is a crash.  There are rafters of turkeys, clutters of spiders and (implausible as it may sound) implausibilities of gnus. 

 
Groups of humans have special names as well: gang, team, company, platoon.  

Not all groups of people have specific labels, but I think that they should. 
My suggestions:

 - A loophole of lawyers.
 - A bombast of politicians.
 - An inflammation of prostitutes.
 - A pickle of douchebags.
 - A pucker of sycophants. (also works for assholes)
 - A shuffle of zombies. (you saw that one coming, didn’t you?)
 - An indifference of teenagers.
 - A desperation of reality show contestants.
 - A magazine of postal workers. (this works on two levels as they deliver them and reload with them)
 - A bindle of hobos.
 - An unnameable creeping blackness that stalks my soul through the daily fresh hell that is my existence of insurance agents. (this one may only apply to me)

Add your own in the comments.  Go on!  Do eeet!

retro fun: they can’t all be winners

Here are two ads that I captioned that just don’t quite hit the mark. I really tried, but I just couldn’t get them to work on the level that I wanted.  (Cause, this is really important stuff here, I know.)

 

I mean, how scary would it be if you depended on a giant, disembodied hand to do all your large-scale construction? All it would take is a too-quick release of an “OK” gesture and your whole spaceport would be unceremoniously flicked into the next galaxy. Then I thought, “what if The Hand got a hangnail?” That would piss it off and it probably wouldn’t want to do any heavy lifting for a while.  However, I wanted The Hand to suffer an affliction that would not only hobble it, but would make the tiny people uncomfortable. Make them say, “Um, it’s okay Hand, really.  You go take care of whatever is growing on yourself and we’ll just invent cranes or something.”  Yeah, I think I over-thought this one a bit. 

I don’t know why, but I see latent homosexual overtones in most of these retro ads.  Maybe it’s because the men look too buttoned-up, too clean-cut so I think they must be hiding something.  Something dirty.  Not that I think being gay is “dirty.” Not at all.  But you know these guys think it is. And the thought of it would make them ashamed, but excited at the same time.  And it would make them want to spend a “guys weekend” in San Francisco.  Is San Francisco even a gay mecca anymore? I have no idea.  That’s why I think this one should probably stay in the closet. 

(Mad props to Plan59.)

2010 in review

WordPress emailed me this information verbatim and told me to share it with my readers.  It’s not every day that I get a ready made blog post thrown at me, so I took their advice.  I promise I won’t be this lazy again.  Maybe promise is a strong word.  I promise I’ll try.  That’s as good as I can do.  Sorry.

(My interjections are in italics)

The stats helper monkeys (at least they didn’t outsource, I suppose) at WordPress.com mulled over how this blog did in 2010, and here’s a high level summary of its overall blog health (isn’t worrying about my health health enough?):

Healthy blog!

The Blog-Health-o-Meter™ reads Wow. (What? No exclamation point?)

Crunchy numbers

Featured image

About 3 million people visit the Taj Mahal every year. This blog was viewed about 34,000 times in 2010. If it were the Taj Mahal, it would take about 4 days for that many people to see it. (My blog is 1.13 % as popular as the Taj Mahal.  Is that supposed to make me feel better?)

In 2010, there were 108 new posts, growing the total archive of this blog to 331 posts. There were 241 pictures uploaded, taking up a total of 139mb. That’s about 5 pictures per week. (Seriously? That’s the image they picked to use? They really don’t know me very well.)

The busiest day of the year was October 15th with 2,542 views. The most popular post that day was zombie, zombie, burning bright. (It’s ba-ack!)

Where did they come from?

The top referring sites in 2010 were wordpress.com, facebook.com, WordPress Dashboard, mahalo.com, and mail.yahoo.com. (I have no idea who/what you are mahalo.com, but thanks)

Some visitors came searching (nice way of saying they were lost), mostly for retro ads, painted pumpkins, retro advertisements, creative pumpkin carving, and bride of frankenstein. (Yeah, I feel like I owe some people an apology.)

Attractions in 2010

These are the posts and pages that got the most views in 2010. (Read them and comment.  Make me famous!)

1

zombie, zombie, burning bright October 2010
305 comments and 95 Likes on WordPress.com

2

halloween dos & don’ts October 2008
2 comments

3

fun with retro advertisements April 2008
3 comments

4

happy dress like a slut day! October 2009
11 comments and 1 Like on WordPress.com,

5

Culled, for your enjoyment April 2010
 

(How am I supposed to use this information?  Is it supposed to make me feel better about my blogging abilities? Motivate me to try even harder this year? Like most good news, it just makes me think, “it’s all down-hill from here.” Optimistic, huh?  I’m not much of a goal-maker, but I do hope that I continue posting stuff that you nice people enjoy reading.  Gotta keep that blog health arrow buried deep in the darker teal green area, don’t we?  Let’s do this!)

you think I’m crazy?

I work with a lot of crazy, annoying people.  And they are all uniquely annoying, too.  Some talk funny, some never think for themselves, others kiss so much ass they have permanent back problems and still others are gossipy, backstabbing bitches.  Then there are a few that are all of the above.  My office seems to be a nexus of all the teeth-grindingly irritating people in the known universe.  

I used to believe that I was the only sane person who works where I do.  Was I really just that unlucky?  Of all the places I sent my resume to, I had to get hired by this funny farm?  This, of course, just annoyed me more, so I tried to view myself from a different perspective: through the eyes of an annoying crazy person. 

It wasn’t easy.  I really had to step far, far outside myself and view my actions through the warped, cracked lens of one of my co-workers.  Eventually, I came to see how some of the things I do or say could annoy those around me.

 -   I do not use the company phone to have loud, angry conversations with my family members.  Unfortunately, I do not have any quarrels with my family and when, on the rare occasion, they call me at work, I speak to them in a quiet, respectful tone.  When I talk to my husband,  we usually share a couple laughs and the call ends with “I love you, too.”  I realize that this makes it very hard for others to find something to gossip about in regards to my private life.  I know that office gossip is the only hobby that some of these people have and I should be more considerate.  I also know that my actions may tend to make others feel insecure because my husband still says “I love you” and we get along so well.  From now on, I will pretend to have a heated argument with my husband over the phone at least once a month so that others can feel better about themselves. 

 - My refusal to prostrate myself before my superiors can be misconstrued as arrogance and an over-estimation of my self-worth.  People make more money than me for a reason and are obviously worthy of my unflinching devotion.  Acting with a level of pride higher than my pay grade must be quite irritating to others.  I will try to remember to stop questioning authority and lower my eyes every now and then.

 -  Never appearing stressed and not constantly whining about my workload surely gets on my co-workers nerves.  It hurts me to think that I am a reminder that they are incapable of handling the job duties  they know will be waiting for them day after day.  I need to pile up more papers on my desk and appear frazzled so my office mates don’t feel they are inefficient or lazy. 

 -   No one likes a know-it-all, so I will forget how to un-jam the copy machine.

 - I will stop going to lunch with the only other two people in the office who appear as sane as I am because cliques are wrong.  I would hate for my other co-workers to think that we are talking about them while we enjoy our only hour away from the asylum office.

Yeah.  If these nut-bars think I’m annoying or crazy, maybe that isn’t such a bad thing.  It’s the double negative principle.  If a crazy person thinks you are crazy then you must be completely sane.  I can live with that.

nice is the new mean

I like nice people.  I like being nice.  If we were all a little nicer, the world would be a better place. 

Okay, with that out of the way, I must add that there is such a thing as being too nice.  Now, I’m not talking about being too nice to tell someone no, or so nice that you are easily taken advantage of.  I’m talking about too many “pleases” and “thank yous”.  Too many “I’m sorrys”.  The kind of nice that when they actually make a joke at your expense they immediately follow up with “I’m joking” or “You know I’m only kidding, right?”  The kind of nice that when they do the slightest thing that my have inconvenienced you they grovel at your feet for forgiveness.  The kind of nice that just screams “everyone pay attention to how nice I am!” 

That kind of nice annoys the ever lovin’ crap out of me.  Partly, because such niceness is inherently sickening to my bitter, sarcastic nature.  However, it also annoys me because I can’t help but sense an ingenuous thread running through all the pleasantries.  Perhaps because my bitter, sarcastic nature is also highly sensitive to BS.  I mean, politicians are always smiling, aren’t they?

In my experience, the hyper-nice, as I like to call them (especially since I just made that term up) have an agenda.  They want to succeed and climb the ladder, just like everyone else, but they don’t want to step on anyone’s toes to do it.  So they wear niceness like a pair of gloves so they can do the dirty work without getting crap on their hands.  When they are accused of being elbow deep in it, they quickly ask how you could say such a thing.  Don’t you know that they only want to help?  Don’t you know they only have everyone’s best interest in mind?  And most believe them because they are so nice.  The cake in the break-room proves it. 

I distrust and dislike the hyper-nice because they usually share the same qualities as another group that I can’t stand: the passive-aggressive.  Both groups lack the spine to get right in someone’s face and fight for what they think is right. 

Yet, again, I am the bitch because I am not afraid to speak my mind.  If everyone only knew that I am not the one they need to be afraid of.  You will see (or hear) me coming.  However when the passive-aggressive, hyper-nice one attacks, you will never know what hit you.