Find my iDignity

Tonight the couch up and swallowed my cellular telephone not once, but twice.

I know. Believe me I do. I figured that I wasn't stupid enough to lose it in the couch twice but alas.

While I was trying to find my phone and panicking about where my watch was (I totally lost my watch last Thursday and spent ALL DAY LONG sobbing about it; I cried harder about losing that watch than I did 'The Boy.' Yes, I am THAT shallow.) I figured that I would take full advantage of technology and use the 'Find my iPhone' application.

First I'd like to say that I spent a good 10 minutes trying to figure out how in the blue hell you actually use the app. Google it and see if I'm not right. The interwebs tells you all about how to set it up and what it can do but never does it actually say 'Go to website, log-in and follow the directions. Finally I manage to log into my iCloud account. I'm not really 100% on what an iCloud exactly is but I logged into it and apparently have some space there. Maybe they'll let me put down laminate flooring sometime in the future. From this point it was fairly easy to find my iPhone and I could even send myself a friendly message that says 'Gee Anna, you really are a dumbass. Again?'

This technology is creepy. You can log onto a remote server from the interwebs and not only find, but text, wipe and lock your iPhone and/or iPad. I see the novelty in this, especially as I lose things by the time I've turned around but if I can figure this out, you iPhone owner are officially in a shit-storm. Don't leave anything you don't want seen by the world on your portable device. Secondly,  I would like to know why in the hell we cannot do this with keys.

And maybe other less-tangible things? Can Apple create an app that prevents me from doing 87 of 100 things I do daily that make people cringe. Can I buy back my shame from Apple? Is it gone forever? Can I purchase discrete units of it and save it for future use? Or can it pinpoint my dignity on a map?

I figure that is the true connotation of the word. This is truly what they're trying to do to our society.

iCloud -- 'Everything you've ever been ashamed of; recorded digitally and saved for the rest of creation.'

There is no sexy way to remove your Spanx.

Men, I blame you.

I have to blame someone and I certainly am not going to take the blame myself so I'm blaming you. You are the reason why I feel the need to wear the spanx.

'Hello God, it's me Anna.
. . .
When will I ever learn to love my body?'


If you aren't aware of what a spanx is I will explain. It's the wearable version of a battleship hull. It holds all the important parts in while letting the guns swing freely and giving the enemy a decent idea of what is in store for the remainder of the evening if they so choose to engage said ship. The makers of spanx call it 'shapewear.'  I'll leave it at that.

(Although I will say it does do wonders for a girls shape.)

Anyways I bought these Spanx to wear under my little black dress because I'm fat and blah blah blah and haven't been to gym lately because I'm busy blah blah blah and I'm a stress eater blah blah blah and they make mayonnaise in gallon jars blah blah blah. Let's just say that I have a demonstrated need for said spanx.

There is just one problem. They are not easy to get on or off but it's not so much the getting them on part that I'm particularly worried about. There's always mayonnaise in my house (see above), so in the worst case scenario we can slather me in mayo. My friends will hold the spanx open at the end of our bar and I'll just take a running slide down the bar into them. Wam. I'm in my spanx and ready for my dress all without messing up my hair. Booyah in YOUR dooyah.

But what if someone sees me in my little black dress, which is PHENOMENAL by the way, and decides they would like to take me home and see what's under my little black dress. Here is where I'm going to need to be creative. They don't just come off. You can't just pull them off. There is wiggling, and jostling, and some praying, followed by some hopping and hoping along with groaning, moaning, wailing, the gnashing of teeth and pushing. Yes you actually have to push them down off of your body, there is no pulling. And guess what? You've still got to get them over your ass!

Nevermind that that whole charade is less than attractive, much less sexy, but it takes a solid 10 minutes and 3-man crew to get the damn things off. And I'm not really sure why they're pluralized when there is only one garment. Praise the Lord Baby Jesus for that. If there were two of them I might just die. But seriously? Who wants to watch that? Who wants to watch a warthog try to escape from a sinkhole?  Maybe the warthog should have the good sense to stay the fuck out of the mudhole and just wear a fracking reasonable PANTSUIT. Who would want to see someone struggle out of their underwear?

'Why yes, I'd love to come home with you but first I need you to take these percocets, drink this whiskey and let me know when you're good and fucked up. Then I'll come in the room without my spanx on.' It is lying, plain and simple. Imagine if you took some broad home to have relations with her and when she went in the bathroom she was Scar Jo and when she came out she was Christina Aguilera at the latest music awards. And ladies imagine you're going home with Top Gun Val Kilmer and you end up with present day Val Kilmer*.  It's just not right; you can't do that to a person. People want to take you home and rip off your clothes and see that you've miraculously maintained your svelte shape. They don't want to watch you explode like the Stay-Puft marshmallow man.

Whatever am I to do?

I suppose I could always just cut a hole in the crotch.

That could turn out fun. Right? Less sexy but a smidge more disturbing.

Maybe I'll just wear pants.


*I still probably would. I'm not proud of it but I'm being honest.

Things White People should stop doing.

Here is a list of things that White People should stop doing:

1. Hip hop line dances. For serious ya'll, lets give the black people back the electric slide. Every time they come up with a new line dance we take it away. I'm going on record right now that never, have I ever, done or will ever do the cupid shuffle. Ever.

2. Any other dance-like movement besides the waving of one's hand back and forth in concert with other white people. White people. have. no. rhythm. I watched the announcement of the Grammy nominees the other night and watched white people try to dance to Grandmaster Flash and it just wasn't working. Not even a little bit. But they did finally manage to get the hand thing down.

3. Stop standing like this: Who honestly stands like this at a party? or anywhere really?

4. Coming to a complete stop to turn right. And braking on the highway. You bought that expensive ass Lexus SUV. DRIVE THE FUCKING THING.

5. Naming your children after inanimate objects. Quart is a measurement not a name.  Name your baby Adam and move on. Also names that repeat the same name: William Williams or Neil McNeil. Razor Death-Metal Jones is also not acceptable. Giving your kid a 'hard' name only cements their future in the illicit drug industry.

6. Theme Parties. Yes, they're still as asinine as they were in college. It's just that now we can't drink the shame away as easily.

7. Skiing. Think about it. Who honestly came up with this idea? 'You know what Muffy, I've just had the most splendid idea. We should strap sticks to our feet and slid down that mountain, in the cold mind you, in the snow at a rapid velocity!' I'll tell you who: White People. Black people have enough sense to know that if God wanted us to play in the snow he'd have given us fur.

8. Buying useless expensive appliances. I saw an advertisement on tv for a blender that can cook your soup after it has pureed your vegetable. If you are honestly too lazy or don't have time enough to pour your puree out of blender and into a fucking pot you need to just bite the bullet and hire some help. The same goes for that robot that moves around your room and vacuums your floors for you. If you're going to buy it, buy it to entertain your dog. The fat-ass probably needs some exercise. (Have you noticed that the obesity epidemic is moving to our pets now too? Geez oh pete.)

9. Camping. Yes, please let us venture into the wilderness so we can be eaten by bears and sleep on the lumpy ground. Only white people. Every other ethnicity in the world is trying to get out of the wilderness and we're trying to get back in it. All you can do is shake your head.

10. Watching reality television marathons. If I see one more episode of Storage Wars my head is going to snap off of my body. I went to the beach with my mom last weekend after Thanksgiving, because we're white and go to the beach in the winter -- obviously, and she made me watch no less than 10 hours of Storage Wars. I put my foot down before the marathon of Gold Rush and watched a Will Ferrell movie on TBS. I forget which one. They're all pretty much the same; that's a different list.

Just to continue the Snatch-tastic trend - A story.

So apparently my hormones have gone into full tilt boogie because out of the last five posts, 2 have included snatch, 1 was about food, and the other 2 were about illegal substances. I'm not sure what this says about me except that I'm very obviously extremely mentally disturbed and choose to deal with it in the only the healthiest ways possible.

But the guys over at A Beer for the Shower mentioned that I use the word 'snatch' quite efficiently. Which is true.

I thought I'd share a funny story about the how and when I started to use the word in regular conversation.

And no this isn't like that time when I was eight and referred to a man's testicles as balls in front of my entire family while watching America's Funniest Video's and my mother passed out from shame. This actually was probably worse. It involves someone who is mentally handicapped. (And while I do sometimes wonder if my mother is mentally handicapped I know that she is not. She merely has the capacity for evil.)

I used to work in a local florist here in town my senior year of college because I was poor and needed money for booze. Duh. There was this guy that used to come in to the florist to buy flowers for his respective girlfriends and while he was completely nice, he was just a smidge awkward. Something was off about him and I expected that he probably had a mild learning disability. But he was totally nice! I stress to you that he was totally nice so that you don't judge me for being creeped out by the functional retard. But he leered at me. Often. And for a repeated length of time. Then it came to pass that he was starting to show up at the florist pretty much everytime I worked and then lo-and-behold he was showing up everyday asking for me, even when I wasn't there.

Then one day, he bought flowers when I was working and gave them to me on the spot. I was extremely nice in refusing to accept them but I explained that it wasn't something I would be comfortable doing because I wasn't interested in him romantically. It worked because he didn't show back up. So kudos to me.

Wait, I know what you're thinking. You're thinking 'How could you give yourself kudos? How did you know that he wasn't at home sobbing his eyes out?' I know this because after he stopped coming to the florist I started seeing him at the bar.  Obviously, he wasn't that hurt. With his mother. Whom I may or may not have had a drunken conversation with about how I really didn't want to hurt his feelings but I didn't want to lead him on either. I was drunk; I can't remember.

Needless to say we (Yes, my entire posse of friends.) switched bars and started to frequent the one across the street and once he and his mom figured that out we switched back. Musical bars as it were.

I tell you all of this to prove to you how creepy this guy was and how much it skeezed me out to be around him. Ya'll know I'm a busty girl but I honestly feel bad for being nice to people whom I know don't have a snowball's chance in hell with me, but simply cannot help themselves from being drawn into the gravitational pull of the awesomeness that is my chesticular region. (Modest, I am not.) And it embarrasses the shit out of me to know that I'm being stared at.

You're waiting for the snatch; Here it comes.

I'm at Border's one day many years later with roomie and we're perusing the DVD's and guess who I see, making a beeline for me while dragging his mom who is currently waving at me? Our friend from the florist.

I'm visibly starting to panic and I look at roomie and he just shrugs and I am stuck.

So they approach together and we begin our nicities to make polite conversation. Polite conversation which involves 'Oh are you going to buy some DVD's?' while I pick up the closest DVD and say 'Yes, I LOOOVE this movie.' I then actually look at the movie title and without even thinking say "I LOVE SNATCH!' Because actually I do really love that movie. But because I'm nervous and uncomfortable as hell I keep saying 'OH SNATCH IS SOOO GREAT' and 'I THINK YOU'D LIKE SNATCH TOO! You should totally get into it.' On and on ad naseum while his mother's mouth drops open even further everytime I say snatch and his eyes get bigger every time I say snatch and I'm already too far gone now to begin apologizing so I just keep saying snatch and does anyone stop me?

Why No. They don't. Our friend's mother just drags him away by the shirtsleeve, literally. All the while, I'm still yammering on about snatch. Actually by this point I may have been yelling 'SNATCH! SNATCH! SNATCH!' Similar to the chorus of that 'Shots' song by Lil' Jon. What? I was thankful that I actually found something that worked so I was running with it.

And That, my friends, is how the word snatch entered my vernacular. And also how I managed to scare away the creepy guy that followed me around.

I saw this one bitch's vulva at the gym tonight.

I know that I tend to hyperbolize things sometimes. But not as often as you'd think though. As sad as it, the majority of this shit actually does happen to me. Most of it is true.

Anyways, I saw this one bitch's vulva tonight at the gym. That's right. I saw enough into her snatch to see her actual vulva.

WHY was I looking at her snatch you ask? You ask this because you know I'm not one to actively seek out snatch and for the most part I tell people to put it away. See here. I saw homegirl's vagina because she felt it necessary to show it to everyone.

HOW you ask? Which you really shouldn't do because that shit looked straight up like a beef-n-cheddar from the Arby's. Not cute.

Homegirl had on the shortest shorts I think I've ever seen a person wear in public. Aaaand her legs won't even that cute. (For this to have the full effect you need to imagine me pursing my lips, snaking my head, and pointing in some abstract direction.) She was in the 'Knockout' class which is a synonym for that dumb kickboxing shit. In this class they begin by stretching, by bending over and touching the floor.

I'm not sure if you ever watched 'BET After Dark' in the late 90's when they had Too-Short on (They may still do this. I don't know. I saw it once and was scarred for life. Why was a 17 year old white girl watching 'BET After Dark' in 1999 you want to know? Two words: STUPID BOYFRIEND. I'm getting off-topic here. Plus my high school was kind of ghetto and he was kind of in a 'black girl' phase. Yes, I am aware I am white.) but the one time I did see it for a split second I saw this black girl with a giant ass and a g-string bend over and her thong went up the crack of her hoo-haa and you saw her labia hanging out the sides. Both major and minor. It was kind-of like when you get on a rollercoaster and they warn you to keep all arms and legs inside the vehicle at all times except no one warned anybody and EVERYBODY was hanging out the both sides of the cart.

Shudder.

From the room in which I take spin class, you have a downward prospective over the entire gym because you go up about half a flight of stairs to get into the room. So everyone on the bikes tonight in the 5:45 class saw homegirl's vulva. And so did the person behind her. Because she was having a wardrobe malfunction of great magnitude unless she meant to do that on purpose; if that is the case I believe she may be deluded about what kind of establishment our gym is. But here's the kicker. Did she stand up and pick her shorts out of her hoo-haa? No. She continued to repeatedly bend over and stretch and further her frontal wedgie (Yes boys, it is a thing.). I halfway expected her shorts to become a wedge and split her in half up to her ribcage. Every time she went to bend over everyone in the spin room cringed and leaned to their left to get further away from it.

But that's the problem with stationary bikes. No matter what the horror, you aren't going to get very far.

The stuff a fat girl's dreams are made of.

I've gained approximately 10 pounds in the last couple of months because I quit going to gym in about July. My life just got cray-cray and I simply didn't have time and I haven't been able to establish a routine again.

So I'm now a fat girl again. I mean I wasn't a skinny girl in June but I was skinnier.

The other day I took a nap. Because not only am I fat, I'm also lazy.

Do you know what I dreamed of whilst I was asleep?

A buffet.

If I wasn't aware that I was fat by looking in the mirror I'm reminded of it when I dream. Of buffets. I don't even like buffets; I feel like it's a waste of money. Although it's kind of like that line in Shrek when Donkey says "I don't know nobody that don't like no parfait." I imagine everyone likes a buffet, most especially fat girls.

Le sigh. I feel shamed. 

HBO pushes the boundaries of television nudity with Paz de la Huerta's asshole.

Ya'll, I don't know if you watch Boardwalk Empire on HBO or not but I do. I'm not sure why because I never know what in the blue-fuck is going on but it's mildly entertaining and as much as I do not enjoy watching Steve Buscemi get it on I do enjoy gratuitous violence on occasion. And that new Irish kid 'Owen' is hawt.

But I am damn tired of seeing Paz de la Huerta's "Paz-de-la-Huertas" if you catch my drift.

Seriously, I have seen her vag more often than I have seen my own. HER ACTUAL VAGINA. I live with my own self and even I don't see my own self naked that much. And sometimes I even sleep naked. So I'm naked with myself so I see myself naked on a regular basis.

Take for example, yesterday's episode which we watched tonight. Homegirl is louging around in her lingerie, preggers as shit, and WHAM! Vagina. It's just sitting there, on the kitchen table. You're all like 'Aw poor, crazy Lucy Danziger. She's pregnant by a repugnant bastard. Wait? Is that her snatch? ON THE TABLE NO LESS?'

It doesn't help that the character Paz plays is bat-shit insane along with being annoying as fuck and then I watched an interview with her on VH1 this morning when I realized that she is essentially playing herself. Because the actual Paz de la Huerta is bat-shit insane too.

Case in point here: Coo-coo banana crackers. Bitch is cray-cray.

I know what you're thinking. I am a prone to having the same issue as you can read about here: No matter how hard you try, you cannot wriggle back onto your tampon after you've sneezed. But damn ya'll. Actually I have never done this. Although this one time in college I was particularly mad at my boyfriend's repeated sexual advances, even after warning him I was on the rag, so I told him that if he'd take it out with his teeth I'd give in. I was just being facetious; I did so enjoy watching him retch.

I cannot wait until next week to see what unexplored caverns of her body we haven't been shown by the producers at HBO. Joy.