Google Something Clever 2.0: May 2013

May 31, 2013

Some Friendly Advice for Amanda Bynes

Hey, Amanda Bynes! It's me, Jenn. You may remember me as that woman who was way too old to watch What I Like About You, but secretly did so anyway.

I noticed that you've recently taken up some ... peculiar hobbies, and the media's been taking you to task for it. I'm here to help. Together, we can work out some fun alternatives for you that won't land you on the wrong side of the law (or TMZ).

For example: you seem to be rather fond of committing hit-and-runs. I've got the perfect solution—softball! Hit that ball, and run the bases. You'll be getting a great cardiovascular workout, as well as providing inspiration for young female athletes.

You also got in a bit of hot water after you tweeted President Obama, asking him to fire the police officer who arrested you. And from what I gather, he didn't even respond. But do you know which world leader would respond to your tweets?! Kim Jong-un! He loves D-List American celebrities! Leverage your fame and do some good. Maybe ask him to stop being so grumpy and nuclear-threaten-y all the time.

We've all watched your burgeoning photography career with interest. The problem with self-portraits, or "selfies," however, is that you're very limited, angle-wise. You might try some nature photography, or perhaps see if you could get a freelance job with National Geographic photographing war-torn orphans?

I can tell from your new cheek piercings that you're into needles. Why not take up cross-stitching? You could start a website and sell your own samplers. Who wouldn't want one of those?

You like cutting hair? Girl, don't shave your own head! There are tons of scruffy dogs in shelters all across America who could do with a trim. Wouldn't it feel good to give a puppy the makeover that lands him in his "forever home"?

Just last Thursday, you were arrested for throwing a bong out of your apartment window in order to destroy pot-smoking evidence. Honey, that's littering, and littering's not cool. Next time, make a bong out of an apple. If the cops show up, you can just eat it! No evidence, no littering, and best of all, you get a healthy dose of Vitamin A.

Finally, rather than asking Drake to murder your vagina, maybe you should ... you know what? Never mind. I'm actually okay with that one. The world needs more assertive women like you.


Good luck to you, Amanda. If you follow my advice, I just know you can turn this around, and become the next Drew Barrymore. (She's still doing okay, right?)

This post originally appeared on In the Powder Room.

May 30, 2013

How to Cure Writer's Block

I've had writer's block for almost two weeks now, and it's driving me crazy. I think I might have a solution, though...


  • Realize that you need to experience something in order to have something to write about. Go to a parade. Try to convince your son that he should join a marching band when he’s in high school. Go home and DVR “Drum Line.”
  • Read 20 blog posts. Find 20 subjects that you could have written about, but now you can’t, because it’s been done.
  • Go on Pinterest and look for something to make fun of. Remember that everything on Pinterest is ridiculous, and that’s boring.
  • Come up with a great topic! Write one sentence. Realize that one sentence is really all you have to say on the subject. Tweet it. Get disappointed by its reception.
  • Decide to get drunk in the bath. Remember that you have some TV to catch up on. Postpone bath.
  • Go on Facebook for inspiration. Find tons of posts to make fun of. Unfortunately, you can’t because that would mean alienating the friends who wrote them.
  • Read the news for inspiration. Get bummed out about the fact that you have no idea what’s going on in Syria, and that makes you a bad person.
  • Follow Amanda Bynes on Twitter. Write about her. Realize that nothing you could say would be as funny as just reading her Twitter feed.
  • Decide to do nothing for five minutes and wait for the ideas to come pouring in… They are all nail art ideas. Paint nails.
  • Come up with a great idea! But your nails are wet. Wait for them to dry. Forget idea.

May 29, 2013

Droid vs. iPhone

The other day, my friend posted on Facebook: “thinking i need a new phone...after 3 years mine is starting to go...now do i want an iphone or a galaxy??? input anyone?” A couple of hours later, she had 52 comments. Of course. And of course a lot of them were from me, urging her to get a Galaxy. But then I started thinking about it. Droids aren’t for everyone. Some people should have iPhones. Some people are very happy with them. But how was she to know which type of person she was?

So I made her a quiz. Feel free to take it yourself, if you’re unsure what type of phone you should get.


What’s your favorite game to play on your phone?

A. Words With Friends
B. Candy Crush Saga
C. Snake
D. Ain’t nobody got time for that!
E. I like to record short videos of myself acting out charades. Then, I send the videos to my friends to guess.

Do you have EZ Pass in your car?

A. Hell yeah, who wants to stop at a toll booth?
B. I don’t drive; it’s bad for the environment.
C. What in the world is that?
D. I just pay the fine when they mail me a picture of my car skipping the toll.
E. What, and let the government track my every move?

What’s your favorite alcoholic beverage?

A. Chianti
B. Pabst Blue Ribbon
C. Gin and tonic
D. Brandy
E. I make my own absinthe

Are you a sports fan?

A. Baseball or football
B. The Olympics or the X Games
C. I watch golf
D. I play golf
E. Soccer or curling

What do you primarily use your phone for?

A. Reading websites and taking pictures of my kids
B. Listening to music and taking pictures of my food
C. Calling my kids and asking them to send me pictures of my grandkids
D. Checking stocks and berating my assistant
E. Tweeting the local media about conspiracies

How do you prefer to get driving directions?

A. Navigation software on my phone.
B. I take the subway everywhere.
C. I call ahead for directions, then get lost and call five more times.
D. My driver deals with that.
E. I don’t need any help; I’m a cartographer.

What’s your favorite food?

A. Pizza
B. Artisinal mac & cheese
C. Meatloaf
D. Foie gras
E. Bologna sandwiches

Do you have any companion animals?

A. Cats or dogs
B. Iguanas or pot-bellied pigs
C. A bird
D. Koi
E. Llamas or Madagascar hissing cockroaches

Complete this sentence: Zooey Deschanel…

A. …is funny on “The New Girl.”
B. …is my idol.
C. …seems like a nice girl.
D. …is the obnoxious poster-girl for Generation Entitled.
E. …is half of my favorite band.

What is your favorite website?

A. Something Clever 2.0
B. Etsy
C. AOL
D. Fox News
E. Yahoo


And now for your results!


If you answered mostly A’s, you are a Droid, just like me. Congratulations, my logical, level-headed friend.

If you answered mostly B’s, you should get an iPhone. I don’t necessarily agree with all of your life choices, but we’re cool.

If you answered mostly C’s, you are old. It’s sweet that you think you need a smart phone, but you really don’t.  Just get a flip phone and a subscription to Reader’s Digest.

If you answered mostly D’s, you are a fancy-pants rich person and you should get a Blackberry. They still make those, right?

If you answered mostly E’s, you are weird as hell and you don’t fit into any of the above categories. You must be the type of person who buys a Windows Phone. Good luck with that.

May 28, 2013

My Favorite Halloween Costume

It's almost summer, and you know what that means! It's time to start thinking about Halloween (if you're bonkers for Halloween like I am)!

If you're a regular reader, you probably know that I love Halloween, and I love zombies. So I'm sure it wouldn't surprise you to learn that I've been a zombie for Halloween quite a few times.

Halloween 2011 was a tough one. I had really time-consuming costumes to prepare for the boys- my husband was Han Solo frozen in carbonite. This meant putting together a Han Solo costume, and also cutting up a foam mattress, making a mold of my husband's torso and legs from a modified papier-mache (shop towels and plaster of Paris), cutting face and arm holes in it, and painting the whole thing gray. My son, who was two and a half at the time, was Teen Wolf. These costumes took a lot of work, and I was left uninspired for my own costume. I decided at the last minute, "Ugh, I'll just be a zombie again. At least I'm good at it." But it ended up being my favorite costume.


So, like I said, I've done zombie makeup a million times, and I've gotten pretty good at it. Pretty fast at it, too. So I packed a little makeup bag...


Which contained a pale gray stick, a bruise wheel, some setting powder, and also some fake blood and a travel-sized spray bottle of water, which are not pictured because I don't know where the hell they are right now. Sorry.

I dressed in regular clothes, and spread a little fake blood on my shirt. When I showed up at the party, people kept asking me when I was changing into my costume. I told them I didn't have one. When they asked about the blood, I'd act all nervous and defensive, and lie about it. I told everyone a different story: "I must have gotten scratched by a branch." "That's someone else's blood." "I think that's jelly."

Nothing to see here, folks...

After about half an hour, I went to the upstairs bathroom, where I'd stashed my makeup bag. I put a little pale gray all over, and a little purple under my eyes. I sprayed a bit of water around my hairline, and I spread some fake blood on a Kleenex. I spent the next half hour coughing into the Kleenex and insisting I was fine. People were trying to guess what I was. "Are you from 'Contagion'? Do you have SARS?" "No!" I'd shout. "I'm fine! I'm not infected!"

I also spilled wine on my shirt, um, for effect.
Then, back to the bathroom. Darker eyes. Paler skin. More sweat, now all over my forehead and chest. I even soaked my shirt a little. I spent the next half hour acting dazed. This was easy, because I was drinking. 

I wish I looked this good when I was actually sick.

Back to the bathroom. More makeup. I took off my hoodie and did my arms, too. More "sweat." A little blood in the corner of my mouth. I spent the next half hour stumbling around. This was weird, because some people were late to the party and hadn't seen the whole transition, so they just thought I was super drunk.

"Has anyone seen my cell phone? Can I get a ride?"

Showtime. My last trip to the bathroom, I did super heavy makeup, and blood. Then I just lurched everywhere. I didn't speak anymore. I had transitioned to full-on zombie.

"Braaaaains, but also wine and snacks, because it's a party."
After that, I began recruiting other party guests to become "infected" by me. I'd quietly invite them, then sneak them upstairs and throw zombie makeup on top of whatever costume they came in. Oh, and I added more blood around my mouth, because duh, I bit them. I think I infected about five to seven people. Even a couple of strangers. What good sports!

I call this one "Sassy Zombie." She doesn't give a fuck.

By the end of the night, I had won "Best Group Costume" and had been politely asked by more than one person to stop being so fucking creepy. It was a good night.

Acting!

You're welcome to steal my idea, as long as you tell a couple people that I'm rad and they should come read my blog. Happy Halloween!


May 22, 2013

Painless Vaginal Delivery is Possible!

You may or may not know that I have one child, and he was delivered through a planned c-section. Sure, I labored (unmedicated) for three hours, because nurses are bitches, but that doesn't count. You superhero vaginal birth mommies will always be bigger martyrs than me.


I had a point to prove. I wanted to show you all that I could handle a vaginal delivery. The problem was, I didn't want to go through another pregnancy, or have another child. What was I to do?

It is at this point that I must warn all of you who are at work, or those who have nosy children, to save this page for later, perhaps when you're alone in the bathroom. The following is NSFW/K.

I discovered that the reason that vaginal birth is usually painful has nothing to do with the size of the baby, or the volume of the Enya CD being played in the background, but has everything to do with the father.

Yeah, you read that right. There is one father out there who can knock you up with a baby so cute, so sweet, that he or she will cause you absolutely zero discomfort during delivery. And that father is... One Classy Motha.

A little over a month ago, Kim was feeling randy, and offered to to impregnate one of her readers with a (patent pending?) Beaver Baby. All you had to do to be selected as the lucky mother was know every damn thing about her, like her favorite wine, and the tales of her failed dinner attempts. Oh, I got this, bitches. Three days later, I found out I was pregnant!

After a mere four and a half weeks of pregnancy, my husband came home from work, checked the mailbox, and gave me the happy news when he walked in the door: I was in labor! Funny, I didn't feel a thing. (Actually, I think he said something along the lines of, "You got... this thing. What the hell is that?")

I opened the suspicious-looking brown paper package to find a familiar looking gift box. This is where it pays to be a superfan, because I recognized my baby-daddy's style right away.

Sorry about the glare. I never claimed to be an artist.

Nestled inside, with a sweet card and some beautiful gender-neutral green tissue paper, was my vagina.

Ok, I admit it. Pink is not my natural hair color.

It was time to push. No doctor. No midwife. No doula. It was just me, and my husband, who said, "That's disgusting," and walked out of the room. Men! Am I right, ladies?? Ok, time to buckle down...

One!

Two!

Three!!!

I did it! Just three pushes, zero pain, and I gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. I'm so happy. Our little family is now complete.

If you've been yearning to fill that little hole (or just turn it inside-out), I urge you to talk to Kim. She'll be more than happy to put a baby in your vagina, too (ahem, for a fee).


May 16, 2013

I Taught a Human Being to Read

I could read when I was three years old. And I mean, I could read a book. I was a really smart kid. So, of course, I assumed that my son would be reading at three. He had my genes, and he had me for a teacher. It was inevitable, right?

When he was one, I would write a different letter on his chalk board every day. I'd tell him what sound the letter made. I'd list words that started with that letter. He didn't really care.

When he was two, we played with letter magnets. I'd give him three that spelled a word, and try to get him to put them in the correct order. He preferred his dinosaur magnets. He couldn't identify ten letters, but he could identify 30 different dinosaurs, and tell you whether they were herbivores, omnivores, or carnivores.

When he was three, I got him workbooks and flashcards. I downloaded an app on my phone where he could trace letters. I'd point out the letters on packages of food at the grocery store. He would yell, scribble, or ignore me.

When he turned four, I officially considered myself a failure. I knew two-year-olds who knew the alphabet better than him. Sometimes, I could swear that he knew more than he was letting on. Like he was playing dumb for some reason... Whatever the reason, I had failed him.

Then, one day at Target, he looked up and said, "Eh... kssss... i.... tuh. Ex... it. Hey, Jenn, that sign says 'Exit'!"

Holy shit! My boy just read!

I wheeled him around the store, pointing out all the other exit signs. He was delighted to learn that they were everywhere, and soon became an expert at spotting them in every store.

Once he read that first word, it was like opening up the flood gates. He was sounding out everything. This has created some problems, like the time he was sitting next to me on the couch, and announced, "You ssss-uck. You suck." What?! Oh, right, You Suck by Christopher Moore is sitting on the shelf. Thanks, Author Guy (great author, seriously).

We'd been sitting on a Barnes & Noble gift card since his birthday in January. Last month, I took him to the store to spend it. It turns out, if he gets to choose what he's reading, he's more than willing:



Today, a month after this video was shot, he can read the whole damn book himself. It turns out, he was learning all that time. He just didn't feel like reading yet.

I am a good teacher, after all. I am a good mom. And I'm pretty proud of that.

May 14, 2013

A Funny Thing Happened at Mystic Aquarium

If you're a Facebook fan, you may have already heard that my Mothers' Day was rad. Here's some more on that...

Mystic Aquarium in Mystic, Connecticut invited some bloggers to come check them out on Mothers' Day weekend. Of all the museums, zoos and aquariums I've been to (and that's a lot), Mystic Aquarium is my absolute favorite. And they wanted me to go there for free? Um, yes please.

We hosted my mom and sister for breakfast and mimosas, and then headed down to Connecticut. It's a two-hour drive from my house, so it's a bit of a haul for a day trip, but totally worth it. We immediately went to the beluga whales. The main viewing area was pretty packed, so my son checked them out in the cool little bubble windows. Then he ran around in the little tunnels in the beluga area.


Then we explored the walkways in the marsh, where you can peek over the railings and try to spot the frogs, tadpoles and turtles hiding in the water. A good amount of the grounds are outdoors- they also have seals, sea lions, penguins, and a small aviary.


See the frog?

See the tadpole?

We headed to the indoor area to check out the jellyfish and sharks, and touch the crabs. The jellyfish area is amazing, but I didn't trust myself to take decent pictures and do it justice, so you'll just have to see for yourself.


My son and I fell in love with these frogs that were about the size of my thumb. There's nothing more adorable than a little boy saying, "Aww, they're so cuuuuute!" There were a lot of interactive displays with buttons and screens to keep him distracted while I looked at actual live animals, so that was cool.



Then, the best thing ever happened. We went back to the whales, and one of them made friends with us. There's nothing so unusual about that; we've been to Mystic before, and all four of the whales are very friendly. In fact, you may already be familiar with Juno, who went viral two years ago when he partied with a Mariachi band.


I don't know if this was Juno, or one of his friends, but this is what happened:


My husband is super awesome for taking a million pictures and capturing that moment. Incidentally, he is also super awesome for taking me to Mango's Wood-Fired Pizza Co. for dinner afterwards, and then Krispy Kreme at Mohegan Sun on the way home (my two other favorite places in Connecticut). And then doing the dishes when we got home, while I drank Champagne in the bathtub. A round of applause for Mr. Clever, please.

Disclosure: I received free admission to Mystic Aquarium, but I totally would have paid them. I received no monetary compensation. I was not compensated by Mango's or Krispy Kreme at all, but they are welcome to send me free pizza and doughnuts if they wish.

May 9, 2013

A Tale of a $2600 Stuffed Banana



We've known for a while now that all a young lady has to do to receive fame and fortune is make a sex tape, get pregnant at 16, or drink her way up and down the Jersey Shore. But did you know that it's just as easy for grown men?


New Hampshire resident Henry Gribbohm, age thirty, couldn't afford to buy his three children an Xbox 360® with Kinect® (retail value approximately $300). Sure, he had a couple thousand dollars in the bank, but that was earmarked for college.

Then, the answer to Gribbohm's prayers came along, in the form of a carnival game called Tubs of Fun. Toss a few balls in a few tubs, and there you have it, free Xbox! Perfect! Only, once he started playing, it turned out to be a little more difficult than expected.

Once Gribbohm had fruitlessly sunk $300 into the game (hmm, where have we seen that number before?) he did the smart thing and went home...and returned to the carnival with all the money he had in the world, $2300. And promptly blew it all on Tubs of Fun. He received a giant stuffed banana as a consolation prize.

This may be the part of the story where you're questioning the title, and the opening paragraph. Stay with me. What Gribbohm did next was a stroke of genius. He filed a police report, claiming the game was rigged. Then he contacted the Boston CBS affiliate. Why Boston, when the "crime" took place in New Hampshire? 
Perhaps because Boston is the fifth-largest media market in the U.S. I'm just spitballing here, folks.

CBS, of course, took the story and ran with it. I first heard about it when WBZ reporter David Wade tweeted it, with the commentary, "This is ridiculous/outrageous/sad all at once. Man loses everything but a banana at a carnival." To which his colleague, Tim Caputo, replied, "There's always money in the banana stand." Love it. Who doesn't love laughing at some dumbass's misfortune? There's a reason America's first reality show, "COPS," is still airing after 25 years.

Henry Gribbohm went viral. First came the local TV and radio interviews. Then VH1 gave him an all-expenses-paid trip to New York City to appear on the show "Best Week Ever." Then, CollegeHumor.com offered to "buy" the stuffed banana for $2600 if they could get 26,000 "likes" on Facebook. For 30,000 "likes," they would also buy the Gribbohm family their coveted Xbox. You can see where this is going, right?

The post received 39,000 likes, and the Gribbohm children now have their $2600 college fund back, in addition to an Xbox, and a famous daddy.

Henry Gribbohm, you brilliant fucking idiot. You played us all perfectly.

Now, I can't say much about society rewarding these types of people with fame, as Mr. Gribbohm graciously provided me with a topic to write about this week, but can we at least stop giving them fortune? At the rate we're going, it won't be long before our public schools drop silly courses like math and science in favor of P.R. and mixology. Please, for the love of evolution, let's stop slow-clapping these morons like they're underdog folk heroes, and treat them like the cautionary tales they truly are.


This post originally appeared on In the Powder Room.

May 8, 2013

What I Really Want For Mothers' Day


Mothers’ Day is here again, and that means it’s time for commercials to start trying to convince fathers and children everywhere that what mom really wants is a new vacuum, or an ugly charm bracelet.


No. Not this mom. And I’d hazard to guess that a lot of other moms agree. Here’s what I really want:

A hobby
In July 2011, my family vacationed in Mystic, Connecticut. Mystic boasts an amazing historic seaport. In the gift shop, I purchased myself a ship-in-a-bottle kit. I’d always wanted to try it. That box is still sitting on my shelf, almost two years later. I had an hour to myself last fall, and actually opened it, only to find out that I needed eight more items in order to actually build the ship. So back to the shelf it went.

There is a hobby store just down the street, but it never occurs to me to spend precious time and money there purchasing balsa wood and awls. And when would I ever find time to actually use them?

I now have a jewelry-stamping kit on my Amazon Wish List. I would appreciate being presented with the kit, and then being left alone for a few hours to use it.

Time off
Many mothers of young children, particularly those who stay at home all day, wish they could spend Mothers’ Day alone. Have a bubble bath, get day drunk, maybe take a solo trip to Target. But that feels a little off. It’s a day to celebrate motherhood; not to get a reprieve from it. But I still need (and deserve) a break.

So I’d like 24 coupons good for one hour off from mothering. I could use one on a Sunday morning to sleep in, or two to get out of cooking dinner on a weeknight. That way, I’d still get my “day off,” but without the guilt.

Credit where credit is due
My son is four.  They say that kids begin to have the capacity to feel empathy at age three. Still, I wonder if he realizes all that I do for him. Instead of some cookie-cutter card featuring a sappy poem and a soft-focus picture of a rose, I’d like to hear, in his own words, what he appreciates about me. It doesn’t even have to be in a card. A sheet of paper is fine.

And from my husband…
A vasectomy. No explanation needed, right, ladies?

What do you want for Mothers’ Day?


May 3, 2013

Need Some Advice?

Hey, remember when I wrote a Google Advice Column for Sarah, the The Sadder But Wiser Girl? That was fun, wasn't it? Well, guess what. I did another one. And once again, I gave it away to a friend in need. Because I'm a giver. Please click over to One Classy Motha! to see what sage advice I provided for Kim and her readers.


If you're one of Kim's readers who came over here to scope me out, I will sum it up like this: I am 80% as funny as Kim, with 100% pinker hair, and 800% more swearing. Big swears. Swears like "cunt." I hope that's not a turn-off.

Basically I'm like a female Garrison Keillor. Enjoy!



May 2, 2013

My Son Calls Me By My First Name

Before our son was born, my husband and I decided that we would have him call us by our first names. Our reasoning was this: remember when you were little, the worst thing you could do was call your parents by their first names? Why is that? Your doctor calls you by your first name. Your boss calls you by your first name. How are these people on a higher level than your own kid, the person you're supposed to love most in the world?

This is where I give you the disclaimer that I have have to add every time I write about my parenting choices: This is about my choice, not yours. I don't care what you do. I'm not trying to imply that my way is better than yours. 


This isn't to say that he's not allowed to call us "mom" and "dad," or any other iterations thereof; the point is that he can call us whatever he likes. We didn't want to confuse him as a baby by calling ourselves ten different names, though, so we started with our real names.

You would not believe the hell we caught for it. I had this one work friend who, upon hearing my reasoning, proclaimed it to be "the dumbest thing I've ever heard." What an asshole. I dropped him like a hot potato. Unfriended on Facebook, blocked him on Instant Messenger, and never spoke to him again. You do not question my parenting choices.

Then our family started in. It began with them "forgetting," repeatedly, that the boy was to call us by our first names. They'd constantly refer to us as "mommy" or "daddy" when talking to him. We'd correct them and they'd claim, again and again, that they slipped up. Um, hi, you've been calling me Jenn my whole life. I'd believe that if you'd been calling me "mommy" since the day I was born, and now I was asking you to switch. But this? Bullshit.

Then it got worse. We'd correct them and they'd say things like, "Oh, I don't like that," or my favorite, "I just can't!" Really? Your mouth is suddenly incapable of pulling itself into the right positions to say my name? Bitch, please. To those people, we'd respond, "Then call us nothing at all."

Then they started to argue with us. As I said before, you do not question my parenting. The only two people in the world who are allowed to do that are my husband and my son's pediatrician. No one else.

Their arguments were bizarre. They'd say it was "disrespectful." To who? I'm the one who's teaching him to call me Jenn. I can see where it would be considered disrespectful to Granddad if I taught my son to call him Pete, when he'd specifically requested Granddad, but I get to choose what people call me. The dumbest argument we heard was that "he won't know you're his parents!" I don't even know where to begin with that one. I really don't.

It got so bad that we had to make a note on the boy's Facebook page. (Yes, he has a Facebook page. That way, relatives can stay in touch with him, and my personal page isn't overloaded with baby pics.) Here's the note:
For those of you who don't know, we have chosen to have the boy call us by our names. Surprisingly, we have met with a lot of opposition on this. For that reason, we will not be discussing this subject anymore. 

Please know that every decision we make regarding the boy is made after much careful consideration and, when applicable, discussion with his pediatrician. 

This is one of many personal family decisions that we will make regarding the upbringing of our son, and it was ours alone to make. It can be very hurtful when we feel that our judgement is being called into question. 

We understand that this may be a little unorthodox, but we would appreciate it if we did not have to field any more negative comments. 

Thank you for understanding.
That helped a lot. But four years later, we do still have people "forget."

May 1, 2013

Ass, Ass, and More Ass

I don't really have anything to say today, but I would be an asshat if I skipped the first day of The ABC's of Swearing. Especially since I made that gorgeous button myself (I'm really proud of that button).

If you like swearing and blogging, and hate rules and assholes, please click the button to learn more.



If you're feeling uninspired, there's a lovely swear directory here. You ass.