Tag Archives: satire

Jun 12 2012
24 Comments
Humorous, Two minute read

I Demand More Puppies on Television, and Everywhere Else

Don’t even read this blog post. Just google puppies. You’ll be glad you did.

Lately I’ve been having a lot of killer ideas involving puppies. Those furry wee machines are just on my mind all the time and I decided some of these eureka moments were just too good to keep to myself, so I’m going to grace the interspheres with them.

If you have any good ideas for puppies you should share them with the world too, maybe on Twitter. Have you heard of it? It’s a micro-blogging platform…oh never mind.

Cute Furry Time-Sensitive Ideas:

1. A medical television show that has puppies instead doctors, nurses, and technicians: It would be so cute if someone came in, literally spineless from an almost deadly car accident and the puppies had to perform surgery, their tiny paws holding scalpels and administering anesthesia. The highlight of the show will be when one of the puppies yawns and magically cures the patient because of overwhelming cuteness.

2. Puppy petting stations, featuring a baby: I don’t know if puppy petting stations are a thing, but Courtney Cox had one at a birthday party (according to a reliable source), and there was one used at my alma mater during finals to relieve stress. Obviously the puppy petting station idea is great, but what if there were a baby too? People love seeing the baby size of things play with one another, so it would be dangerously cute if there were an infant in there, wearing a hat or a bow or a rubber chicken, nuzzling itself (sorry for the neuter pronoun) against the soft puppy fur. And then the young ones will get tired and the guests of the party would gather ’round to watch the baby and puppy nap session. Precious!

3. Presidential debates with puppies: I think this idea pretty much speaks for itself. If there were some golden retriever pups on stage, or Obama and Romney were both petting one, then I think people might actually tune in and this country would realize the change that we’ve all chanted about or against. Of course, Romney would have to learn how to simulate pet empathy. I believe there’s a program he could get installed for that though.

4. Cooking show featuring puppies: the puppies wouldn’t actually make any food, they would just be playing with each other while someone made cookies in the background. There would be a final screenshot of a timid puppy gingerly biting a chocolate chip cookie and then the recipe would flash on screen. Ratings out the roof. This would also be great for when smell-o-vision finally comes into existence, minus the dog-urine. Puppies and chocolate chip cookies: is there anything better or more generic?

5. Economics courses featuring live puppies as the go-to example for everything: the professor would introduce the puppies, saying that Porkchop is better at fetching sticks, while Crumpet is better at digging holes. In the most efficient economic system, Porkchop would just fetch sticks and Crumpet would just dig holes. Then there would be a demonstration, clapping, laughter, and happiness.

I believe the solution to many of our world’s problems is to get the puppies involved. They already exist, so let’s put their cuteness to work.

Tagged , , , , , , ,
Jun 11 2012
8 Comments
Fiction, Humorous, Two minute read

Country Girl Refuses to Board the Dreams-Come-True-Express

All trains are a scam. Remember that, America.

Sometimes I go driving at night, after everyone’s gone to bed and it’s just me and the car and the road and the wind running next to me and in the trees. I stop at intersections and sit there with the windows open like I’m in on a big secret. People shouldn’t be out this late, especially in my home town, but here I am. It’s 3 am and I’ve been stopped at this intersection for a full minute and no one will ever know about it. It’s lame but there’s not a lot here to keep me occupied.

Last night I was at Brury and Durstwood. I stopped the car, turned the engine off, and got out, just to look at the stars a little farther away from the “city” lights. The cicadas were doing their thing in those new summer leaves and in the distance I saw the glow of Oklahoma City. It was a small glow with an inferiority complex, but a glow nonetheless.

I heard the faraway sound of a train rumbling through, carrying its chicken breasts and belt buckles or whatever trains carry nowadays. I thought about a time in middle school when I couldn’t sleep and almost started crying because a train was making a racket  and then a police siren went wee-ooo-wee-ooo and it seemed the night would never end. And then I thought about another time a few weeks ago when I almost screamed because I kept bumping into things in my room.

To my left, the sound of the train got louder. I looked around and saw one headlight, a giant shining eye coming straight for me. Guz-WHAT, I shouted and jumped back.

As I considered what it would feel like to be reborn in the shape of a gooey pancake, the train began slowing down and then came to a complete stop.  The conductor poked her head out of the cabin and yelled, to my immense confusion, “All-aboard!”

Was I actually supposed to get on this train headed to God-knows-where?

What about my car?

What about the kid I was supposed to babysit tomorrow? How would he get to Wal-Mart without me?

I asked the conductor what the h kind of a shindig this was and she said this was the Dreams-Come-True-Express and that the destination was up to me.

And I thought that was really disgusting. How dare these circus people, probably from California, come here and try to scam us poor country folks. How much did a ticket for this thing cost? Twenty, thirty dollars? As if I had that kind of money to go hang around in some feel goodery* and listen to someone tell me to dance like my dreams were chocolate hugs.

So I told her to just get on out of there. “Go on, git!” I told her and the train started chugga chugga-ing and soon I was left with just my thoughts and the insects and their thoughts.

As the train made its way towards the city lights and other dumb schmucks that would probably take this deal, I wondered what it would be like to breathe underwater. I would probably never know.

*credit to Arrested Development, one of the best television shows America has ever seen.

Tagged , , , , , ,
Jun 05 2012
25 Comments
Best blog posts, Humorous, Job hunting, Two minute read

The Cover Letter that Gets the Job

I’m coming for you.

Listen up, mother narker

I know what you’re thinking. You’re at work, wearing your power skirts and wrist-control cuff links, and you think that this is just another cover letter, just another piece of pre-trash that you need to skim before taking your 15th M&M break of the day. Turns out the power to control human destinies doesn’t energize like it used to.

Your precious bundles of neurons are throbbing with boredom from the mediocrity of the stack that lies before you. Where is a peer? Where is the employee so detail oriented she counts her Lucky Charms and times herself on the john?

Where is that special someone with the suit-wearing abilities of a psychopath and marketing skills of nervous high-school nerds trying to convince Big Bob he doesn’t want to beat them up?  All you want is someone with a degree from every Ivy league university and 59 years of experience that has brought the total costs of running a company down to zero while increasing efficiency by 867 percent. Is that too much to ask?

Well let me tell you something, you open-gobbed hand-shaker. I don’t have any of that crap, and I’m not about to sit here and dump out my purse for you and tell you why my tic-tacs are the best ones for this company and how I really am the go-getter you’re looking for because I punched someone when they tried to cut me in line.

I’ve been out there. I’ve met with the graduates of this generation and I was parented by the last generation and I have some friends who belong to the place in between. You think they have something I don’t? You’re wrong, dead wrong. Your last-season shoes and chipped coffee mug tell the whole, sad story. You’ve spent your life trying to find the best and the brightest in the front displays of department stores, hand picking the newest merchandise that still smells slightly of formaldehyde. Then they come in and what do you get? Beneath their shiny surfaces, they’re turds like the rest of us.

This is the best it gets, sweetie. Leave Nordstroms and you’ll see me there on the street. I’ll be playing a pan pipe and have an overly-exited following of neighborhood dogs. Watch me closer. I’ll take those dogs across the street and trade them to the CEO of a start-up tech company called Whiznit for thirty bucks. I’ll take that thirty bucks and come back to Nordstroms and offer to take you out to a cheap lunch and tell you why I’m the best person for this job. Because let’s face it, you can get a shiny Gucci bag from any street corner in the world, but they only make me in Oklahoma, baked in the close confines of an over-crowded womb and served in a harsh world that doesn’t give out any favors. Hire me.

Sincerely,

Snotting Black

Tagged , , , , , ,
May 28 2012
28 Comments
Anecdotes, Three minute read, Travelling

Two Chicken Dinners and an All-Star Airplane Sleazebag

That’s my neighbor’s house. Don’t stare too much.

I take a brief intermission from the land of Sheba to proudly announce that I have made it through homeland security and am now in the United States of America. After over 24 hours of being in-transit, I and my half eaten box of McVities digestive biscuits arrived unharmed in the wonderful state of Oklahoma, where I was greeted by exactly half of my family who were unaware of the severity of my state of jetlag and country immersion shock.

This shock became quite apparent only 45 minutes later when I brought up, in the company of my bride-to-be sister, her fiancée, and a friend of his that I had just met, how I had been thinking about lingerie for sister and how it would be funny to buy a bra and panty set made entirely out of bacon.

All this talk about meaty panties made the crowd a little uncomfortable, especially because where I’m from we pretend males don’t know that we buy and wear underwear. The joke still got big laughs from me, however, and you can expect a meat lovers’ lingerie post to be coming up.

The travel from Egypt was fairly uneventful and I successfully slept open-gobbed on three different flights and one café table.

The flight from Amman (flew there from Cairo) to Chicago was about 12 hours long and I was looking forward to passing out because I hadn’t slept at all the night before. The plane wasn’t full and I had high hopes that I would have the two seats next to the window all for me.  I planned on curling up and traipsing through dreamland as soon as possible.

However, I and my sleepy dreams were in danger. One over-gelled man was planning to ruin everything.

I was looking out the window for a few minutes and when I looked back all of the sudden there was giant man sitting next to me. He had mild halitosis and clearly thought he was God’s gift to the entire airplane and to me in particular.

Almost all of the seats around us were empty, yet here he was, leaning his girth into my personal space and polluting my air with his foul breath. Why was he tormenting me, I thought. He introduced himself by saying he name was Toffee (or something similar) and that he planned on talking for the entire flight. I wanted to die.

From the outset, he made it clear that he was putting his moves on me, which included asking me to prove my Arabic skills by saying I love you, offering me some of his sleeping pills, verifying if the boyfriend I had in Cairo was just for fun or not, and inviting me to come to Northern California, with or without my bf (wink.) It was pretty pathetic.

After about five minutes of painful and unwanted conversation, I told him that it was a pleasure meeting him and that I was going to go to sleep. I turned my back towards him and after about three minutes he took off, having realized that this “sweet, good-looking girl” (his words, not mine) was not going to take his magic pills or waste any more breath talking to him. In the end, the flight was quite pleasant and I slept, watched 2 movies and 2 television shows, and ate chicken twice.

If you’re reading this, Toffee, thanks for the blog fodder. I look forward to avoiding eye contact with you very soon in San Francisco.

Tagged , , , , , ,
May 16 2012
24 Comments
Humorous, Two minute read

Today I Wear Underpants

This photo is only half staged.

Warning: much exaggerated complaining followed by lighthearted ending. Use this information well.

It’s the last week of school and I am a disheveled shadow of a human. My aspirations of being fluent in Arabic have turned into the desire to live through the final day of my program, which is today.  Monday was not good. I woke up eight minutes before class feeling like death incarnate and rushed out of the house pen-less and still wearing my bed hair.

I had ten minutes to prepare for a presentation that was 20% of my grade. Luckily for me, I decided earlier this semester  that I don’t believe in grades. I ate 14 raw almonds for breakfast during class and afterwards wolfed down a falafel sandwich before taking a four hour nap, waking up just in time to skype with mother who silently judged me for my apparent sloth.

I felt defeated as usual here in Cairo, and I’ve come to realize that this city has utterly wiped me out and used me like a plaything.

My program ends today and I return to the states in a mere 2 weeks. I should be happy, but ahead of me looms a formidable job hunt in one of the most expensive cities in the world. This life-consuming job hunt must take place in the same month that I plan and attend a bachelorette party, a bridal shower, an afterglow brunch (ew), a  boyfriend’s visit, and a family vacation in which I’ll be forced to leave my mountain grove and actually socialize.

I’m looking from a place of exhaustion forward to months of exhaustion with no apparent end.  I’m staring from a position of defeat towards a future me curled on the ground with HR representatives kicking me in the stomach while chewing up my resume and spitting it at me. Things look grim.

In times like this, I can only do one thing. I take out my planner and write down the secret that will give me the strength to go on and conquer my fears and climb the mountains and brush the hair. At the very top of my to-do list I write “wear underwear.”

Can two words change a life? Yes.

After donning my underthings, I cross off the first task on my to-do list and breathe deeply while I look at the twenty things I have left, my rear end carefully caressed by a familiar pair of unmentionables. Yes, today is my day. I’m beginning the rest of my life and I’m wearing underpants.

You, world, may be tough and you may have well dressed people who don’t want to hire me and you may have chatty cousins that distract me from the book I want to read but I, dear world, am wearing underpants and anything is possible.

Who wears the underpants? I DO! Who’s not afraid? I’M NOT! Who’s going to stop crying and leave her mother’s closet today? ME!

WHAT TIME IS IT? UNDERPANTS TIME! WHO ARE WE? UNDERPANTERS! WHAT DO WE DO? WIN!

P.S. Things really aren’t that bad. I’m going on vacation to Ethiopia today. Yay!

Tagged , , , , , , ,
← Older posts
Newer posts →
Design a site like this with WordPress.com
Get started