Hey, Christian Bale! You suck!!!
I'm sure everyone has heard the Christian Bale rant that's been circling around the internet. There's even a re-mix, so you can dance to the douchery.
I'm surprised more people aren't upset about this. Why aren't more people saying, "Hey, millionaire, sorry you lost your concentration but you're acting like an asshole." By the way, acting is a fake job. Being a professional actor is the same as winning the lottery, but putting out 10% more energy. "It's so hard pretending to be somebody for millions of dollars..." Shut up, you big idiot. What would these actors do if they couldn't act? Answer: Prostitution. Ask any male or female prostitute in L.A. what they wanted to be and they'll tell you, "an actor."
Now the people involved in the movie are saying, "Christian's a really great guy. He was just having a bad moment."
Let me tell you something, you Hollywood morons: Raising your voice to Kathy in the next cube, demanding that she turn down the Celine Dion song that she has on repeat, is a bad moment. If you say, "Kathy, you f__ing amateur, turn down that awful f__ing song. That movie was over ten f__ing years ago! Be a f__ing professional," there's a good chance you'll be cleaning out your desk by the end of the day.
Also, if you listen to audio tape, you never hear anyone say, "Uh, hey, Christian, why don't you calm down... hehe... uh, it's just acting..." It's because everyone in Hollywood is a big f__ing phony. No one wants to stand up to the big bad actor. I bet afterwards Christian asked some assistant, "Was I over-reacting?" and the assistant was probably like, "Oh, no! That guy was totally out of line. What kind of jerk fixes a light in the middle of a scene?" You know what kind of person fixes a light? Uh... someone trying to help, maybe. Someone trying to do their job.
Poor Christian Bale, no one wanted to be Batman for Halloween. Everyone dressed up as the joker. Poor Christian Bale, not nominated for an Oscar. But the joker is! Guess what, buddy? You're not George Clooney, you're not Michael Keaton, hell, you're not even Val Kilmer! Stop acting like you're saving lives or dealing drugs. You're just some guy who lucked out.
Here's the point: If I was given a million dollars to dick around, I would be the sunniest bastard this side of the Mississippi. I would be so freaking polite and cheery everyone would think I was high off my ass. Because I know, life is great, but it ain't easy. So go cry yourself to sleep, millionaire, about how everyone in the world thinks you're a dick. I have to go knit some more bullshit scarves to try and sell on the internet because we're in a recession and some of us really have to work.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Monday, February 2, 2009
Tempin' ain't easy. Part 1
Today I am going to take a break from family/mommy blogging. Instead, I'm just going to tell a funny story from my old tempin' days. Here goes:
The first temp job I got when I moved to Columbus was a two week assignment (which ended up lasting a year) for a chemical company. My job was to help the Risk Management department move from floor 30 to floor 26. I was just supposed to put all the files in boxes and label them. That was it. Unfortunately, the director of risk management had other things in mind. His name was Dick (big surprise) and he was a short, bald, overweight man who, it seems, had no idea that he was short, bald, or overweight.
I was sitting on the floor, going through files, when he busted through the door.
"You're coming with me," he said, "We have important business to do."
We went down to the employee parking lot and got in his car. He informed me that it was his friend's birthday. His friend was the director of another department within the company, so we would be decorating his office.
Now, I was 22 years old at the time and had never worked in a corporate setting before. I had heard about lame things like this, but never really believed they were true.
Dick drove us to a nearby mall. I kept asking him where we were going, but he was being very vague and didn't give a clear response. I followed him through the front entrance and through the food court. Eventually, he waddled into his destination: Spencer's.
Now this is the point in the story where I start questioning the choices I had made in my life that would lead me up to this point.
To be continued....
The first temp job I got when I moved to Columbus was a two week assignment (which ended up lasting a year) for a chemical company. My job was to help the Risk Management department move from floor 30 to floor 26. I was just supposed to put all the files in boxes and label them. That was it. Unfortunately, the director of risk management had other things in mind. His name was Dick (big surprise) and he was a short, bald, overweight man who, it seems, had no idea that he was short, bald, or overweight.
I was sitting on the floor, going through files, when he busted through the door.
"You're coming with me," he said, "We have important business to do."
We went down to the employee parking lot and got in his car. He informed me that it was his friend's birthday. His friend was the director of another department within the company, so we would be decorating his office.
Now, I was 22 years old at the time and had never worked in a corporate setting before. I had heard about lame things like this, but never really believed they were true.
Dick drove us to a nearby mall. I kept asking him where we were going, but he was being very vague and didn't give a clear response. I followed him through the front entrance and through the food court. Eventually, he waddled into his destination: Spencer's.
Now this is the point in the story where I start questioning the choices I had made in my life that would lead me up to this point.
To be continued....
Sunday, February 1, 2009
You can go ahead and shove your "friend request"
Facebook, Facebook, Facebook...... where do I start?
You know, my life was going just fine. I have a great husband, beautiful daughter, a full liquor cabinet, all that. But for some reason, I decided to sign up for Facebook "to see what it's all about." First of all, you know how there are those people in your past, especially from high school, who you think, "damn, I'm glad I never have to see that bitch/asshole again." Well, that person just sent me a friend request. Seriously, everyone is on Facebook. I'm twenty four, so I'm at that odd age where people are just starting to settle down or they're still trying to re-live their high school glory days (which usually consists of DUI's and living with their parents). There are some people like me who have pictures of their families and wedding posted. Then there are the other people, with pictures of them and their "boyz" slammin' shots of Jager on a Tuesday night, because, "Hey, why not?! We're legal!"
But the worst facebook friend of all is the pretty girl who still looks like they could pass for a high school student. The captions under their pictures say something like, "Jeez, carded again! So annoying!"
I'm by no means old. But after having a baby, things aren't as "high" as they once were and I've developed some serious luggage under my eyes. So when I look at these girls, the first things I think are, "wow, they look so pretty and tan. Hmm, must be nice to be able to vacation in Cabo for a week on your rich boyfriend's dime." And I'll admit it: I start to feel down on myself.
Luckily a few things come to mind to perk me back up:
1. I have a very handsome husband who I love and we have an amazing baby girl. I have a wonderful life and I look great.
2. That girl may look great in those pictures, but she'll always have to live with the fact that she hooked up with some loser in high school in our friend's parents' bed and they still have not found a cure for herpes.
Happily Ever After....
You know, my life was going just fine. I have a great husband, beautiful daughter, a full liquor cabinet, all that. But for some reason, I decided to sign up for Facebook "to see what it's all about." First of all, you know how there are those people in your past, especially from high school, who you think, "damn, I'm glad I never have to see that bitch/asshole again." Well, that person just sent me a friend request. Seriously, everyone is on Facebook. I'm twenty four, so I'm at that odd age where people are just starting to settle down or they're still trying to re-live their high school glory days (which usually consists of DUI's and living with their parents). There are some people like me who have pictures of their families and wedding posted. Then there are the other people, with pictures of them and their "boyz" slammin' shots of Jager on a Tuesday night, because, "Hey, why not?! We're legal!"
But the worst facebook friend of all is the pretty girl who still looks like they could pass for a high school student. The captions under their pictures say something like, "Jeez, carded again! So annoying!"
I'm by no means old. But after having a baby, things aren't as "high" as they once were and I've developed some serious luggage under my eyes. So when I look at these girls, the first things I think are, "wow, they look so pretty and tan. Hmm, must be nice to be able to vacation in Cabo for a week on your rich boyfriend's dime." And I'll admit it: I start to feel down on myself.
Luckily a few things come to mind to perk me back up:
1. I have a very handsome husband who I love and we have an amazing baby girl. I have a wonderful life and I look great.
2. That girl may look great in those pictures, but she'll always have to live with the fact that she hooked up with some loser in high school in our friend's parents' bed and they still have not found a cure for herpes.
Happily Ever After....
Friday, January 30, 2009
What did I tell you?!
The motto of New Mom Revolution is "burn your mom jeans and Christmas sweaters."
I really feel that if Jessica Simpson had listened to my advice (and read my blog) she would not be in the situation that she is today.
Nobody looks good in those pants!
Now I know a few of you are going to say, "Newmomrevolution, those aren't 'mom jeans,' they're just high-waisted. They're very in-style."
And to that I will say, "First of all, thank you for reading my blog. I didn't think anyone did. Secondly, if it makes you look like you have a 'front-butt,' it's a 'mom jean.' I know what I'm talking about! I'm taking classes at a community college."
I really feel that if Jessica Simpson had listened to my advice (and read my blog) she would not be in the situation that she is today.
Nobody looks good in those pants!
Now I know a few of you are going to say, "Newmomrevolution, those aren't 'mom jeans,' they're just high-waisted. They're very in-style."
And to that I will say, "First of all, thank you for reading my blog. I didn't think anyone did. Secondly, if it makes you look like you have a 'front-butt,' it's a 'mom jean.' I know what I'm talking about! I'm taking classes at a community college."
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Letter of the Day
Here's a letter from Beverly in Staten Island, New York. She writes:
Dear New Mom Revolution,
I have a two-year-old little boy. He's very healthy and he's developing right on schedule. But lately I've noticed some odd behavior.... How can I tell if my son is a..... douchebag?
Well, Beverly, this is a pretty serious topic. It concerns me that at only two years old your son is already displaying douchebag behavior.
Lets look at the basics:
1. Is your son wearing a trucker hat? Yes, I know it's 2009, but this is usually the most obvious detector.
2. Are you a Real Housewife of Orange County or Atlanta (I don't know about the New York show. Never watched it)? This would be a surefire sign that your son is a douchebag, if not King Douchebag. It's impossible to be on one of these shows and your son or husband to be a normal, nice guy.... except for Vicki's poor, brutalized husband. Run, Don, run...
3. Is your son wearing head-to-toe Ed Hardy apparell? Let me specify... Just because your son is wearing an Ed Hardy outfit does NOT make him a douchebag. But he's definitely wearing the douchebag uniform! Zing! (kinda stole that joke from Dave Chappelle.... I doubt he's reading this blog, so it's cool.)
4. Is your son STILL quoting lines from the Dave Chappelle Show? If he is, CONGRATULATIONS! You're a failure as a mother! Seriously, he's two years old! The Chappelle Show wasn't even around two years ago. Sure, it was funny, but damn, even Dave Chappelle couldn't take that crap after a while. He either learned it from your or his father. Shame shame.....
5. Is your husband/boyfriend/sperm donor a douchebag? Douchebaggery is usually passed down from the paternal side. Seeing that you're from Staten Island, New York, you may want to look into that. I grew up on the East Coast, so I known my fair share of douchebags and even dated a couple. If you find out that yourpartner does also share some of the douchebag qualities listed above, listen, don't be too hard on yourself. It's not your fault. Nowadays it's really hard to tell.... But seriously, when you get together with a guy with a fake tan, you know what you're in for..
Hope this helps!
All the best!!!
Dear New Mom Revolution,
I have a two-year-old little boy. He's very healthy and he's developing right on schedule. But lately I've noticed some odd behavior.... How can I tell if my son is a..... douchebag?
Well, Beverly, this is a pretty serious topic. It concerns me that at only two years old your son is already displaying douchebag behavior.
Lets look at the basics:
1. Is your son wearing a trucker hat? Yes, I know it's 2009, but this is usually the most obvious detector.
2. Are you a Real Housewife of Orange County or Atlanta (I don't know about the New York show. Never watched it)? This would be a surefire sign that your son is a douchebag, if not King Douchebag. It's impossible to be on one of these shows and your son or husband to be a normal, nice guy.... except for Vicki's poor, brutalized husband. Run, Don, run...
3. Is your son wearing head-to-toe Ed Hardy apparell? Let me specify... Just because your son is wearing an Ed Hardy outfit does NOT make him a douchebag. But he's definitely wearing the douchebag uniform! Zing! (kinda stole that joke from Dave Chappelle.... I doubt he's reading this blog, so it's cool.)
4. Is your son STILL quoting lines from the Dave Chappelle Show? If he is, CONGRATULATIONS! You're a failure as a mother! Seriously, he's two years old! The Chappelle Show wasn't even around two years ago. Sure, it was funny, but damn, even Dave Chappelle couldn't take that crap after a while. He either learned it from your or his father. Shame shame.....
5. Is your husband/boyfriend/sperm donor a douchebag? Douchebaggery is usually passed down from the paternal side. Seeing that you're from Staten Island, New York, you may want to look into that. I grew up on the East Coast, so I known my fair share of douchebags and even dated a couple. If you find out that yourpartner does also share some of the douchebag qualities listed above, listen, don't be too hard on yourself. It's not your fault. Nowadays it's really hard to tell.... But seriously, when you get together with a guy with a fake tan, you know what you're in for..
Hope this helps!
All the best!!!
Words of Wisdom.... From the Gyno's Office!
I have a magazine addiction. There! I admit it! I learned it from you, Mom!!!!
Anyway, due to our present economic situation, I no longer buy magazines. I figure I can just go online and read the magazine websites for free. But there's still something about flipping through the pages of Martha Stewart Living and Playgirl (just kidding. The only people that "read" Playgirl are gay men) that I miss.
Luckily I have found a solution! When I have a doctor's appointment, I usually try and get there about ten minutes early. This gives me ten minutes to flip through the magazines and get my fix. Now, I know what you're thinking. "Wow, don't you have anything better to do? That's pretty pathetic." Well, no I don't. And thank you...
Anyways, I was skimming the pages of either Parenting magazine or Seventeen (I can't remember. They're both so similar) and came across a quote that said, "10% of life is what actually happens. 90% is what you perceive of it." Those words really opened my eyes. Especially for a new mom, you get a lot of unsolicited advice and start wondering things like, Do they think I don't know how to take care of my own child!? It's easy with hormones and all these new untapped emotions to get caught up and over-analyze every word that someone says to you. For example, I was at the grocery store with my baby and some old lady came up and said, to the baby, of course, "Wow, it's awfully cold out there. You better keep warm." This made me ridiculously mad. I kept thinking, What the hell was the old hag trying to say?? Of course I'll keep my baby warm! I'M A GOOD MOM! <--- That's probably a good example of my daily psychotic episodes. After seven months of this, you start to wonder, Hmmm, is it me?? Yes, it really is you. People are always going to want to give you advice. Sometimes it's good advice and sometimes you don't need to hear it. Regardless, the best thing to do if you're feeling insulted or upset is to just let it roll off.
Besides, I need to save up my psychotic energy for when my daughter is a teenager.
Anyway, due to our present economic situation, I no longer buy magazines. I figure I can just go online and read the magazine websites for free. But there's still something about flipping through the pages of Martha Stewart Living and Playgirl (just kidding. The only people that "read" Playgirl are gay men) that I miss.
Luckily I have found a solution! When I have a doctor's appointment, I usually try and get there about ten minutes early. This gives me ten minutes to flip through the magazines and get my fix. Now, I know what you're thinking. "Wow, don't you have anything better to do? That's pretty pathetic." Well, no I don't. And thank you...
Anyways, I was skimming the pages of either Parenting magazine or Seventeen (I can't remember. They're both so similar) and came across a quote that said, "10% of life is what actually happens. 90% is what you perceive of it." Those words really opened my eyes. Especially for a new mom, you get a lot of unsolicited advice and start wondering things like, Do they think I don't know how to take care of my own child!? It's easy with hormones and all these new untapped emotions to get caught up and over-analyze every word that someone says to you. For example, I was at the grocery store with my baby and some old lady came up and said, to the baby, of course, "Wow, it's awfully cold out there. You better keep warm." This made me ridiculously mad. I kept thinking, What the hell was the old hag trying to say?? Of course I'll keep my baby warm! I'M A GOOD MOM! <--- That's probably a good example of my daily psychotic episodes. After seven months of this, you start to wonder, Hmmm, is it me?? Yes, it really is you. People are always going to want to give you advice. Sometimes it's good advice and sometimes you don't need to hear it. Regardless, the best thing to do if you're feeling insulted or upset is to just let it roll off.
Besides, I need to save up my psychotic energy for when my daughter is a teenager.
Monday, October 13, 2008
What is the worst thing you can say to a new mom?
There are a lot of things that you shouldn't say to someone who's just given birth. For example, never say "What do you do all day?" That's a universal rule for all new fathers. Never give unsolicited baby-care advice. This, combined with the hormones, would turn me into a raving mad woman. "I know how to take care of my own baby," I'd yell at my husband.
But definitely the worst thing you can say to a new mom: My husband came home from work one day, two months after I had given birth. We were sitting down and eating dinner and talking about our days. Then he said, "You know, Jamie Lynne Spears already lost her baby weight. Can you believe that?" It took everything inside of me to not throw the water glass at his head. I still get angry about it on a weekly if not daily basis.
But definitely the worst thing you can say to a new mom: My husband came home from work one day, two months after I had given birth. We were sitting down and eating dinner and talking about our days. Then he said, "You know, Jamie Lynne Spears already lost her baby weight. Can you believe that?" It took everything inside of me to not throw the water glass at his head. I still get angry about it on a weekly if not daily basis.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
