Say Something Funny...B*tch

The Art of B*tching ‘Horns’ by Rebekah Tripp

(November 4th, 2011)

Alright folks.  You all know what an eager beaver I am to impart the rules of the road to you, especially after I went through 11 hours of online traffic school while simultaneously making my way through 1 bottle of wine.  I mean, I don’t consider myself an expert…but…I consider myself an expert.  So, let me just say, when someone approaches my car, in their car, and honks at me for a solid minute…I’m not amused.  Not only is it clear that I’ve done nothing wrong…11 hours people…I got the road down…but this is a clear misuse of the horn.

Moments in which the use of a horn are acceptable:

*When you see a friend walking down the street…a brief horn tap is warranted.

*When someone has been sitting at a green light for longer than 10 seconds…a brief horn tap is warranted.

*If you see Tom Hardy walking down the street….2 brief horn taps are warranted.

*If you are attempting to communicate an emergency situation to another driver…a 10 second horn depression is warranted 

Do we see these acceptable situations?  It all makes sense right…just…regular ol’ common sense.  What is not allowed is a minute long over indulgence of the horn.   So, if you’re an old, puffy looking, dyed blond haired witch of a woman that drives a white Lexus and was in Encino on Wednesday around 2pm…this is your tutorial.  The are only 2 acceptable times to honk your horn for a solid minute:  If you fall asleep at the wheel and your head falls on the horn and due to the fact that you could sleep through an alien invasion it takes a minute for you to wake up and sit upright again or if Ryan Reynolds is in the passenger seat of my car and during a red light he and I start making out and then the light turns green and we are so lost in the heat and passion of the other person’s arms that time and space fade away and all that’s left is the lips of the other per…..okay….I misspoke…this is also an unacceptable time to honk. 

Please…spread this around to friends.  And if you have encountered a similar troll on the road….do what I did in response to her nastiness.  When she pulls up a along side of you, frazzled and incensed and she gives you the finger….simply wave like a beauty queen, smile real big and mouth the words, “God hates you.” 
 
 
 

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Gender by Rebekah Tripp

(October 28th, 2011)

About 4 months ago, my roomie and I found a kitten just outside our window.  The kitten was lovely and delightful; however, already having one rotund feline myself…I couldn’t keep the little one.  After much debate, my roomie and I took the kitten to the shelter.  We discovered that we had before us, a tiny baby girl kitten.  Well, after five minutes of discussion in this cold, cement walled place that more often called for animals to be euthanized rather than taken home to be loved, my roommate made a spur of the moment adoption choice and ‘little baby girl kitten’ became Tea.

A visit to the vet soon followed and upon returning home from that first visit my roommate promptly informed me that Tea was not a little baby girl anything….she…he was most assuredly a little baby boy kitten..still named Tea.  Though it took me about a month to change pronouns (Once I make up my mind…gender shmender) I finally took to calling Tea ‘he’ and ‘his’ and…well…I often referred to him more as cray cray then anything…you know how kittens can beJ

Alright….thought the story of the kitten was over, did ya?  Fooled you…here is the final installment in the epic saga of, “The Mysterious Kitten: Feminine or Masculine”.  Earlier this week my roommate of fabulousness took the little mister Tea (Mr. T…unplanned but fantastic reference) to be snipped…you know…neutered, balls cut off, tids and bits in the garbage.  After a few hours of being at the vet the roomie got the phone call that she could pick him up.  A little while later, I receive the text, “Tea is fixed.  It’s a girl!” Yep.  We have been imposing a flat out lie on little Tea’s tiny kitten shoulders.  She couldn’t tell us she was a girl.  Is that what all those countless Meows really meant; “listen b*tches….I’m a girl, damn it!!! Treat me like the princess I am!!”??

This is what it all boils down to though…girl, boy, it, he, she…..who cares??  Tea is still a fantastically adorable kitten with so much energy that sometimes I want to throw her in the dryer.  That’s it folks.  That’s the bottom line.  Why can we flow so fluidly from considering a kitten a boy one minute and a girl the next but we can’t extend the same understanding to human beings?  I feel, as a society, we’re getting better about this whole…be who you are and tune out those *ssholes who live and fear and can’t accept anything different.   Better….but still not great.  Gender is a box that you check on a form.  It does not define you…and just because some people can’t define it..doesn’t mean they have to.  Acceptance is the word of the day.  Surrender to the different, to the unknown, and to the truly beautiful…no matter what form it comes in.  Cause really…aren’t we all just adorable little kittens at the core….did I take the kitten thing too far….maybe a teense.

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Placenta by Rebekah Tripp

(September 23rd, 2011)

Not Polenta…that delicious mush of cornmeal.  I said Placenta…spew if you must….I am as I write this. I can not hold my tongue about this subject because personally…I think some women are going a little cray cray.  Now, before the hairs bristle on your possibly partially feminist womb…please know…I do not have an issue with placentas in general.  That would be silly and unfounded.  Placentas have a purpose.  I plan to spawn some sort of phenomenally cool offspring here in the next 3,4,5,6,7 years and I know that the placenta that grows in me will be super strong, awesome, and I completely support the job it’s meant to do.  (In case you aren’t sure what a placenta does, dictionary.com says that a placenta is the organ in most mammals, formed in the lining of the uterus by the union of the uterine mucous membrane with the membranes of the fetus, that provides for the nourishment of the fetus and the elimination of its waste products.)  (Sorry…another parenthetical was necessary…were you tripped out by the part in the definition that said ‘most mammals’…yea…I’m doing more research on this too)

Okay, I think we can all agree Placenta = important during pregnancy.  You know what I didn’t get from that definition…anything about after the baby comes out.  Well guess what…apparently preggers woman all over the world have a plan for their placenta….and it is narsty.  I mean…do what you will fellow uteruses, however, I think we’re getting a bit extreme.  I shall explain.   A doula friend of mine told me that there is such a thing as a ‘placenta teddy bear’.  WHAT???  Yea…it’s freakin gross.  The picture you see…that’s made out of a woman’s placenta…barf on my face.  Not only is it made out of placenta…but some guy will go through the laborious task of making one for you for $250!  What now?? I just pushed a baby out of my belly…and a bunch of internal baby helping crap falls out with it…you want to scrap that up…make a teddy bear…and charge me $250 for it??  Something that my body and vagina was like, ‘see ya later placenta…you don’t live here anymore?’ NO THANK YOU!  The guy who began this uber gross teddy bear trend notes that crazier things have been done.  For instance, in ancient Eygpt the Pharoah’s placenta was sent up a flag pole for all to see.  Well guess what crazy human organ crafty man; we’re not in ancient Egypt damn it!!

As if the teddy bear thing wasn’t icky enough…do you know that some women actually eat the placenta or freeze dry it and put it into pills.  Placenta Jerky…double barf.  Apparently, ingesting the placenta is meant to stave off post partum depression.  Well….I don’t want to Susan Smith my kids, agreed…but eating my placenta?  F NO!  Am I alone in this?  Some women even take their placenta from the hospital and then bury it.  Well guess what…the only way I’m burying a piece of crap that comes out of me is if I’m in the woods camping and there’s a rule about burying poop.

Final word.  Birth is a beautiful thing…I guess.  The baby is the important thing…right?  Take the BABY home; throw the placenta in the medical waste bin.  Oh…and if you’re one of those woman willing to spend $250 on a placenta teddy bear, give me a call…I’ve got some real estate on Mars I’d like to sell you! (And yes, that last joke is typically made by 60 year old men…but it’s so fitting here)

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‘Princess’ by Rebekah Tripp

Ladies….do you remember the first time you heard the story of Beauty and the Beast?  Or for those of you as old as I am…do you remember the amazing television show of the same name starring Linda Hamilton and Ron Perlman (where they made Ron Perlman look even more like a lion than he already does)?  
It’s a captivating tale about love, beauty and for me…the magic of Disney animation.
A friend of mine stumbled on to this little online treat and I thought I’d share it with you.  It’s amazing and wonderful and a brilliant take on the Beauty and the Beast song that we all know and love.  Enjoy this nugget of phenomenal-ness as you cruise into your fun filled weekend.
http://youtu.be/pcuI6K9daIw

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‘Disappointment & More’ by Rebekah Tripp

(September 2nd, 2011)

Alright my faithful readers….and by that I mean…mom, on the menu today we have a wonderful diatribe about disappointment in aging male actors that were once hot as our main course and for dessert, a funny new saying that you may incorporate into your daily life.  No need to look at the menu, this is all that is offered.  So dig in….or starve….or, if you’re on a reading diet…read half.

Disappointment:

I’m sure we all have an actor that we remember from the days of yore; hot body, steely eyes, dripping and oozing with sexy sex.  I’ll name a few of mine…Daniel Day Lewis, Val Kilmer, James Spader (he was hot in early 2000 but I wasn’t a real big fan during his Sex, Lies and Videotape era), Joaquin Phoenix (what can I say…I like a nice hair lip every now and then)…I could go on but that’d just be depressing.  I just don’t understand!  Let us examine these specimens.  Val Kilmer went the Marlon Brando route.  In fact, I last saw him in McGruber and he looked like he ate Marlon Brando. 

Not cute Val….oh…yea…I have to call him by his full name; Val is not going to cut it.  So, Val Kilmer, watch Willow or Top Secret to remind you what hot looks like.  I’m sad for you because you look like a fat lion.  James Spader, you were kind of hot in the 80’s but then, after you coked yourself into oblivion in the early 90’s and then came back, you were supes hot! Remember Secretary and Supernova (this latter film many may not know, it’s a terrible sci fi movie, which I love…cause it’s awful…and cause James Spader is hot in it).  Then James (yes…only need the first name…note to self Val Kilmer) when you reappeared in Boston Legal, one of the most amazing shows ever, you were all soft around the mid section and in some pics you look like you’re trying for ‘Best Sally Jesse Raphael Look-a-like’.  Come on!! 

Next, Joaquin Phoenix.  I mean, maybe that’s enough said right there.  You’re an odd one for sure.  Thinking you’re hot makes me feel a little dirty..like…having a crush on Boo Radley or something.  I feel like you reached peak hotness in Signs..and a handful of others.  Regardless, you had me…I had a you’re gross/hot, I’d hit that crush.  Then…you did that weird ‘I’m going to act like a recluse and get chubs and grow a beard and seem off cause I’m doing an experimental film thing with my friend Not Ben but the Other Affleck’.  I mean, we’ve all been there but….my gross/hot crush went immediately to just…you’re gross.  Way to f*ck that up for us.

I saved the best and most disappointing for last.  Daniel Day.  Last of the Mohicans, “stay alive, no matter what occurs, I will find you”, In the Name of the father…..I mean come on…you had me at My Left Foot!  Now..you look like a gaunt gypsy.  What’s with the ‘I’m a genie that will grant you three wishes’ earrings?  Eat a sandwich damn it!! I stayed alive…and you got old!!! (I would still have sex with you though…on principle…all you have to do is ask.) 

Okay.  That’s just a few of my heart felt disappointments.  I had to send them out into the world.  I couldn’t sit with them…all alone…screaming from my soul, “ WHY??? WHY…did you get old and fat and weird?????” 

Dessert:

A very dear friend imparted this to me and she tells it far better then I, but you got me..so deal.  On the East Coast there is a fast food restaurant similar to Popeye’s.  It’s called Bojangles.  One fine day a gentleman was standing at the counter ordering *ssloads of food.  Meal upon meal upon meal upon meal.  The cashier said to the man, “Is this all just for you?” The man replied, “B’SCUSE ME, MOTHERF*CKER??”, to which the cashier responded, “I don’t know your life!”. 

So…if, during this week, you need to clarify something that someone has just said or you need to move around someone and you’d like to politely make your presence known…just say,

 ‘B’scuse me, motherf*cker”.