A ranty, funny, dead-serious intersectional feminist blog.

Posts tagged “humor

Make Me a Sammich: The Comic #4 – Cubs at the Door

MMASCOMICheader

CubsAtTheDoor2

Yep, they’ve found me. Tiny MRA larvae. They’re not nearly as cute as baby slugs. ;)


Desperately Seeking…Something

Madonna in Desperately Seeking Susan

Susan…just in case.

After the events of yesterday, I thought we could all use some lighter fare. Love ya.

For months now I’ve watched as search terms and phrases appear on my WordPress stats page and I find myself alternately giggling, smiling, squinting, frowning, boggling, rolling my eyes, exclaiming my horror, and sometimes even feeling a little bit sorry people didn’t find what they were looking for. If you blog or run a website, you’ll know just what I mean. The search terms section of stats can be a useful way of showing you how your audience is finding you–but it’s also a stark revelation that some people trip over your site looking for something else entirely.

Here we see a list of expected (or at least unsurprising) terms and phrases all the way up to the last:

Click to enlarge.

Most surprising to me was not that the phrase appeared, but that during the specified time period FOURTEEN PEOPLE found this site looking not just for “ass” but… Well, I’m sorry, fourteen people. This is not where we keep all the ass. But I got you this:

This isn’t ALL of it, but it’s the best I could do.

I’m going to skip some of the most offensive/ugly phrases for now, because this is for fun, but trust me–they get pretty bad. (Though, not as bad as the ones I got on my much more polite blog about my sponsored kids. That was some sick shit.)

“her ass”

I can only assume WordPress directed them here believing they’d misspelled “harass.” How disappointing that must have been for…let’s see…SEVEN PEOPLE! Seven people, I refer you to the image above. One of those is bound to be female.

“jennifer jason leigh legs”

Not the person, just the legs. These three were probably not looking for a post about unshaven woman legs. Or maybe they were. Maybe someone told them, “Hey, I read a great blog post the other day about unshaven legs nightmares. It had a pic of JJL in it. You should totally Google it!” Three times. I Googled “jennifer jason leigh legs” and mostly what I got is a lot of “THIS SITE MAY BE HARMFUL TO YOUR COMPUTER!” And this:

Truly? This is a thing?

“sammich rosie”

Hey, that’s me! These people may actually have found what they were after. I’m sure they’ll let me know if they didn’t.

“pork rinds of the month”

Are there PORK RINDS of the MONTH? Why didn’t anyone tell me this? There really aren’t, right? This person searched from their phone using their butt as a stylus.

“treehugger”

Me, again!

“drunk hugging a tree”

’nuff said.

Could it be…Cindy Bear?

“yogi bear’s girlfriend’s name”

Does anybody know this one? I mean in case this person comes back. It might be important.

“why do some people say sammich instead of sandwich”

These two unfortunate souls have obviously never tried saying “sammich” out loud. (It’s ok that you just did. Everyone should.)

“stephen colbert doritos”

New flavor!

“dill mustache”

The name of my next band.

“creepy girl cheese”

#WINNING

“when a wife is rebellious to her husband”

New hit song by Percy Sledge! “When a wiiiife’s rebellllious to ‘er husband/Can’t keep her mind on makin’ dinner…”

Your wish is my command!

Your wish is my command!

“de-tachable boob-ies”

That’s right, people. Sing it with me.

“political correctness for a woman to make a sandwich feminism”

Of course, there are many variations on “make me a sammich” and “sammich meme” and “woman sammich” and “woman slap sammich” and fun stuff like that. But this actually seems to be a query as to what might be the politically correct (according to feminists) way to ask a woman to make you a sammich. In case this person comes back, I’m going to go with, “Hey, do you feel like making me a sammich?” or “I love your sammiches. Will you please make me one?” <–helpful

“jack nicholson not giving a fuck”

Now, THESE folks got what they came for. You’re welcome.

He really doesn't.

He really doesn’t.

That’s all for now, folks. May your search terms always yield the results you seek.

Love,

Rosie


Fabulous Prizes!

AWESOME, right?

Ok, first I have to show you these AWESOME new cards I just got (made by MOO). I know, crappy pic, but aren’t they AWESOME? And that’s only the front! Each one is personally autographed by me in Red SharpieTM! The reverse has…well, I’ll show you in a minute. These were a perk from Klout–a site some folks like to pooh-pooh, but dude, they send me free stuff all the time, and that makes them ok in my book.

I’ve also ordered TEMPORARY TATTOOS. I’m not going to show them to you because all I have is the artwork, and they’re not proper tattoos until I can put them on my skin*. When they arrive and I can, then you’ll get a pic. Promise.

I know, I know, you’re wondering how you can get your hands on some of this Make Me a Sammich swag. Well, firstly, winners of our Sammich Challenge will receive some as part of their Fabulous Prize packs. One lucky winner will also receive this:

And it will not be Brother #3.

It will not contain a sammich, because ew, prepackaged sammiches are gross. I think I must have suffered some pre-made sammich trauma as a child, because I simply cannot stand a sammich that’s been sitting around with its juices soaking into the bread and making it all soggy and smelly. I have been known to throw adorable little tantrums when people who love me forget this fact and bring me a nasty, mayonnaise**-soaked refrigerator sammich for lunch. In fact, I gag a little when I see someone in a movie buy one from a machine and eat it. Yuck! Do you have any idea how long that sammich has been sitting there being gross? A sammich machine should assemble your sammich right in front of you, dammit, or it’s nothing more than a garbage dispenser in my eyes.

Ahem. Moving on… If you don’t win a prize in our first contest, there will be others. But in the meantime, if you just can’t stand it, I will make it easy for you to request MMAS goodies. Stay tuned.

Scan that code! Do it!

Oh yeah! Here is the back of the new card. It has a little Klout logo (because they were free from Klout, but my next batch won’t have this, so these are Limited Edition! Woo!) and a very fancy QR code which makes them practically electronic. (It always cracks me up when I see promo cards made to look like iPhones that say “download our app” and then include a URL and no QR code. Duh, I say!) They’re also super heavy-duty cardstock with a satiny finish and the color is great. I heart them.

I’ve got some other goodies in the works, but hopefully this illustrates my good faith in the Fabulous Prizes department. It turns out gift-giving is one of my “love languages” according to a book my dad gave me, so I get really excited about giving stuff away. My neurosis is your gain!

Love ya!


*The great thing about temporary tats is that you can apply them to other surfaces, as well, meaning I can use them to make other cool stuff. There will be swag!

**Double ew. (W?)


I Suck at Contests!

Woohoo!

Woohoo! I totally suck at contests! That’s right, you heard it here first.

Ok, so it’s the last day of National Sammich Month (I apparently also suck at blogging because I did not cover nearly all the sammich stuff!) and the first Sammich Challenge deadline had passed. We have a number of very fine entries. I’ve even been collecting Fabulous Prizes for the winners! But I was only able to recruit one sammich judge, and who knew that Brother #3 would submit a sammich recipe so diabolical that the very thought of attempting it paralyzed me with fear? He did, that’s who. The fix was in from the start. But don’t you worry, my little sammich chefs, Rosie has your back. There can be only one Most Diabolical Sammich, to be sure, and B#3 has provided the winning recipe for that category. I’ll deal with him later. As for the rest of you, your recipes will undergo rigorous judging over the next day or two (by judges who owe me one thing or another and can’t say no) and I’ll announce winners in additional categories Real Soon.

And I’m really excited about the Fabulous Prizes. :D


EPIC FLAIL

I made this for you.


Detachable Boobies

I’ve come across a couple of really irritating ads lately. Maybe you’ve seen them. I wanted to write something about them, but they’re just so ridiculous, and while I was annoyed and bothered, I was not inspired. But this morning I woke up with a song running through my head, and that old Wanda Sykes routine snuck in there, too, and I knew what I had to do. I had to dig up the lyrics to an old favorite and breathe new life into them as I have done below especially for you. Why rant when you can SING?!

Detachable Boobies
(with apologies to King Missile)

I woke up this morning with a bad hangover
And my boobies were missing again.
This happens all the time.
They’re detachable.

[background singers repeat: “detachable boobies” (THIS IS YOUR PART!)]

Axe: “Office Love”

This comes in handy a lot of the time.
I can leave them at home, when I think they’re gonna get me in trouble,
or I can rent them out to Madison Ave, when I don’t need them.
But now and then I go to a party, get drunk,
and the next morning I can’t for the life of me
remember what I did with them.
First I looked around my apartment, and I couldn’t find them.
So I called up the place where the party was,
they hadn’t seen them either.
I asked them to check the vegetable crisper in the fridge
’cause for some reason I leave them there sometimes
But not this time.
So I told them if they pop up to let me know.
I called a few people who were at the party,
but they were no help either.
I was starting to get desperate.
I really don’t like being without my boobies for too long.
It makes me feel like less of a boobie-haver,
and I really hate the way my clothes fit without them.
After a few hours of searching the house,
and calling everyone I could think of,
I was starting to get very depressed,
so I went to the Hurricane and ate breakfast.

8 airbags! Classy, Mercedes.

Then, as I walked down First Avenue towards Pike Place Market,
where all those people sell used books and other junk on the street,
I saw my boobies lying on a blanket
next to a penis.
Some guy was selling my boobies.
He had got them cheap off an ad exec who had a whole bunch for some reason.
I had to buy them off blanket guy. My own boobies.
I took them home, washed them off,
and put them back on. I was happy again. Complete.
People sometimes tell me I should get them permanently attached,
but I don’t know.
Even though sometimes it’s a pain in the ass,
I like having detachable boobies.

[background singers repeat “detachable boobies” and fade out]


The Art of the Sammich

Tortured Sandwich Artist t-shirt

It’s a t-shirt!

Everything is a meme! I went looking for a “sandwich artist” image and the Google is filled with disgruntled Subway employees and jokes about job openings and the many ways to fail at being a Sandwich Artist (which is apparently what Subway employees are called when they’re in uniform). Well, sammich artist might be a crappy job, but it’s a job, and I’ll bet those artists get free sammiches. No shame in that.

In case you haven’t guessed yet, this is the Sammich Art post! Yay! When I first went out looking for National Sammich Month material, I was amazed and delighted by the number of sammich pics I found that can only be classified as art. There are SO MANY of them on sites like insanewiches.com and all over the web (click individual images for sources) so I chose a few of my favorites. Check it out.

Fire Sammich

Hot!

Aces sammich

Pair of aces with a parsley kicker!

Sandwitch!

Sandwitch!

Partridge Family Bus Sammich

Does this look like the Partridge Family’s bus to anyone else?

Lettermanwich!

Grinning Hat Man Sammich

The dill mustache makes it for me.

Scales Sammich

Hm…

Sammich Stadium

I had to include this one because wow.

Man sammich

Meet Art.

In case you missed it, I launched a Sammich Challenge yesterday and have recruited one sammich judge so far. If anyone wants to make sammich art for the contest and send it in, I’ll add a category and post the pics in a Very Special Make Me a Sammich Blog Post.

Anything is possible, people! Any! Thing!


Sports Sammich 1.0

OK, back to the lighter side of things for a bit.

I thought about calling this post Sports Sammich 2012 because of how seldom I expect to write sports-themed posts, but with material like this out there, I can’t guarantee anything. So here’s a Sports Sammich for you, and we’ll see if you’re still hungry after.

This first bit is about equal pay, which is a thing for me, and I think it ought to be a thing for everybody else, too. Unless you’ve been listening to Fox News with headphones on for the past several years, you probably know that on average, women in the U.S. make about seventy-five cents for every dollar men earn doing the same work. For a long time we didn’t really talk about that, because you know, we’d made so much progress and it’s not polite to look a gift horse in the mouth or whatever. Laurie Anderson did, though:

You know, for every dollar a man makes
a woman makes 63 cents.
Now, fifty years ago that was 62 cents.
So, with that kind of luck, it’ll be the year 3,888
before we make a buck.

So, anyway, when I saw the headline, “France’s Gilles Simon says men should be paid more than women at tennis’ Grand Slam tournaments” I had to look. Here are the key phrases:

Simon [who is on the ATP Player Council] told reporters at Wimbledon in French that he thinks “men’s tennis is ahead of women’s tennis” and “men spend twice as long on court as women do at Grand Slams.”

He also said men “provide a more attractive show” in their matches.

And here’s a photo of Monsieur Simon providing “a more attractive show.”

I know, but come on, really? Talk about doing more work, sure, if that’s the case, but what kind of a guy… Wait, I’m getting an update…

One female player asked about Simon’s comments, 19-year-old American Sloane Stephens, said: “I don’t care what he says about anything. He hit me with a ball the first time I was a ballkid. He hit me in the chest, because he lost a point and lost the set. He turned around and slammed the ball with his racket and hit me … and I’ve never spoken to him since then.”

Yeah. That’s about what I thought.

Also in tennis, women in the WTA will be prohibited from excessive grunting on the courts according to a WTA spokesman. An article by the Washington Post was curiously edited before I could link it here to exclude a phrase stating that men are not  subject to any similar rules. Either this is part of some vast conspiracy to ensure that only men are allowed to grunt, or the copyeditor realized that the WTA doesn’t regulate men’s tennis. (As far as I can tell, W is for “womens.”) It’s also possible I read the line in this Fox News article which still states that men are not subject to the new rules yet. (According to the article, the WTA is pushing for a “sport-wide plan.”) Fear not, Tony Manfred at Business Insider assures us that this is not sexist. Women’s and men’s grunt’s are not created equally according to Manfred, but regardless of gender, “the ritualized, tactical grunting that exists in the game right now needs to go.” (Is he right? Or is grunting important to performance? I don’t know. Chime in if you think you do.)

WaPo continues:

USA Today reported the plan includes developing a device for umpires to measure grunting during matches, and a rule to set limits on how much noise is acceptable.

Yes! What’s called for here is a specialized grunt-detection device! A grunt-o-meter! I mean because measuring sound is a new science, right? It’s not like there’d be…say…an app for that.

Next up is the linkbait headline from the inimitable New York Post: New poll shows women would like to cheat on spouse with Tebow

I’m going to say it again: Really? Ok, I get it: different strokes for different folks. But I’m pretty sure I don’t know any women who would answer that poll “Tim Tebow.” Curious, I clicked. You’ll be as fascinated as I was, I’m sure, to learn that Tebow was actually #2 on the list behind David Beckham. A-Rod and Derek Jeter also made the cut. What kind of poll was this? Who were these women signing up to break their wedding vows with athletes? Then I went back and found the punchline:

According to a new survey released by AshleyMadison.com, the Jets backup quarterback ranked second on a list of athletes women would most likely cheat on their husband with.

I somehow missed out on the “phenomenon” that is AshleyMadison, “the most recognized name in infidelity.” Yeppers, it’s a dating site for people who are married but want to cheat on their spouses. So, among women who are married and want to cheat on their spouses, nearly half want to cheat with David Beckham, but not a few wouldn’t mind being unfaithful to their husbands with a guy who has vowed to wait for marriage before having sex. To that I can only say, “Um…”

Oh, also? Tiger Woods came in last. <sad trombone>


Getting to Know You

What’s her favorite Doritos flavor? The world may never know.

The sun is out and I’ve been up since dawn. For the past few days I’ve been working on a piece I hope to post here soon. It’s about as dark as things will ever get around here, and I feel as though I ought to get it out of the way so you’ll know what you’ve gotten yourself into. But before I do that, I thought I’d give you a brief history of me, the Good Parts version.

I’m a writer, artist, musician, mother. I’ve worked in the computer entertainment industry (video games, music software/hardware, technology) for over two decades and have also worked in publishing. I’m a card-carrying Geek Girl at 47 years old. I was an army brat, which meant we moved around a lot. I had three little brothers and I was the oldest. I did a lot of diapering and later, babysitting. I learned to play guitar at 8, which helped me make friends in new places. At 10 I appeared several times on a country & western music tv show (on UHF!<–age test) singing my little heart out in front of a full band. Later in life I joined my daughter to form a band which put out two albums and performed live for several years (we still perform together now and then). I’ve worked as a sales clerk, a ticket-taker, a phone rep, a pizza-slinger, and the manager of some of the best writers anywhere. I’ve been to England and to Scotland, where I stood on the shores of Loch Ness and attempted to lure Nessie with beef-flavored Doritos (no luck–note to try nacho cheese next time). My daughter and I once lived in Ireland for a month during which time we ate all the curry flavored ramen in the kingdom and played many hands of Rummy and watched Australian (or were they from New Zealand?) soaps while the rain poured.

I know there’s more, but I’ve gone on long enough. I’m looking forward to getting to know you. I’m keeping this blog fairly anonymous. If you know me, you’ll know me. If you don’t, it’s not important. Come along for the ride.