Oprah

Ask Hunky Hugo

I completely stole this from the Byronic Man, but I’ve been blogging for 20 straight days, I’m suppose to pack up and move out my house 20 days from now, and this sentence will peter out without a third 20 thing.

Byronic Man does this awesome Ask Sexy Stalin feature that makes you laugh and feel uncomfortable at the same time when you realize you’re seeking advice from a mass murderer who is quite hot frankly. Byronic Man featured one of my questions the last post and I am set to win an amazing What Would Sexy Stalin Do bracelet.

I probably should have waited until I received it before I stole his idea. Well reindeer sweater, I guess I’ll have to find another bracelet that will perfectly accessorize with you.

Anyway, I have my own homicidal maniac who also happens to give killer advice with the emphasis on killer.

Hugo, the man of 1,000 faces.

So now begins a new segment on Speaker7: Ask Hunky Hugo™.

You can ask Hugo anything, and I mean ANYTHING. The weirder the better. As Hugo likes to say, the more he knows about you, the easier for him to control you.

So let’s meet Hugo, shall we?

Hugo, what are you doing?!?

Well, it looks weird. Can you please stop? I’m trying to pass you off as an expert in the same manner Oprah convinced the world that Dr. Phil should be allowed to speak.

Very true. Hey…why are you doing that?

Well, you look like a Mario brother. Do you have anything you want to say to your advice-seekers?

Total nonsense.

All right then, if you feel a creepy half-man puppet can help, please leave your questions in the comments. I take no responsibility if Hugo shows up at your house.

Dearest Reader: Speaker7 is attempting to write a post every day in November so she doesn’t have to participate in NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month). Why is November so long? Why? Hugo loves you.

Life Goal Realized!

My life goal was realized today.

This is good especially since I’ve got a big birthday coming up next week, and it would have been hard to hit this age and still have this life goal ahead of me.

What is the age, you ask? None of your fucking business.

I kid, I kid.

I’m going to turn 1,000 years old next week…at least that’s how American society treats women over a certain age. I might as well be a dessicated corpe because I’m turning 40, people. The big Fuck-Oh. Luckily I still have the emotional maturity of a seventh grader and the body of a dolphin.

I didn’t think my goal realization would happen. I struggled. I cried. I ate too many potato chips.

I asked my life coach for help. Or actually I went to Oprah’s website and found this advice from a life coach who makes more money than all of us:

“You cannot feed a beagle all it wants.”

So, so true.

So I took that beagle and I turned it into lemonade, and finally…FINALLY…won a pair of ‘stache glasses from the amazing Jules of the amazing blog Go Jules Go. Jules is still without power from Hurricane Sandy, but still felt it was important enough to get my life goal in the mail.

I wanted to take a picture of myself wearing my life goal to show Jules my appreciation, but my insistence on anonymity resulted in this hot mess:

That’s me with a paper bag over my head. Here’s the thing with a paper bag on your head.  You can’t see. And it’s hot. And you feel stupid. And you can’t operate a camera so well.

I thought maybe I could draw how awesome I looked.

But it just made me look like I had boots for a nose. And I was missing part of my arm.

I sought out a better model. We obviously know what picture is next:

I tucked Jules business card into his crop top so their lips were almost touching. I did this because I know Jules is planning on Hugo being her second husband.

My husband came home from work and upon viewing my lame attempts, took this picture of me. I think the ‘stache glasses really bring out my eyes.

But did you know that like a beagle, you cannot feed a blogger all she wants? It turns out I want more…another life goal, if you will. I can’t just rest on my laurels. I can’t be a shark who stops moving and sinks to the bottom only to be eaten by a raveonous beagle.

So Life Goal II: Electric Boogaloo commences.

Do you know of a shy wallflower blogger of the name Le Clown? Well, he has a brand spanking new page up on his blog called “Press Releases,” which highlights posts written about his Le Magnificence™.

I want to be on Le Clown’s Press Releases Page.

And after that accomplishment, I want to watch TV.

Dearest Reader: Speaker7 is attempting to write a post every day in November so she doesn’t have to participate in NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month). This is the tenth post. She is questioning the wisdom of this endeavor, but looks really cool doing so because she is wearing ‘stache glasses. 

Dr. Shrill

How could I have missed this? Dr. Phil had the exclusive interview with Casey Anthony’s parents over the last two days and I did not watch it.

I was at work, which is not a good excuse, but a better excuse is I have no idea when the Dr. Phil show is on. I might have been home. There’s a 91 percent chance I was.

Why don’t I religiously watch Dr. Phil? It was his 10-year season premiere after all.

Well I will try to put this delicately because I don’t want to offend people who have an affinity for Dr. Phil.

Dr. Phil is a giant turd.

Wait, I think that is too insulting . . . to turds.

I will have to think of something else.

Dr. Phil is the male version of Nancy Grace.

He is the reason when people say “Don’t you just loovvveeee Oprah?” I say “meh” because she birthed him out of her vayjayjay into our world.

Since I missed the interview(s)–I believe there are 345 of them because this is the biggest story of our lifetime (second biggest story: sugar baby students–tune into Dr. Phil on Friday)–I had to rely on the Today show and the Dr. Phil website to find out what I missed.

I did not pay attention to the Casey Anthony trial, but it seems like a lot of people got really worked up about it from reading Facebook status updates around that time. That is where I get my news. Let’s see who actually pays attention and keeps this going. Repost this if you get your news from Facebook. I bet 93 percent won’t have the courage to make this your status update.

Matt Lauer asked some questions that I can’t recall and Dr. Phil was dickish in his response because he’s awful. He seems to be a really good therapist.

They show some clips from the interviews.

“Do you believe she borrowed a shovel,” Dr. Phil turds.

Matt is incredulous that the mom didn’t say “yup, she borrowed a shovel to bury her daughter whom she killed.” Good thing no real news is happening today.

On Dr. Phil’s website is a very tasteful and very non-turdlike promo for the interviews that is in the style of a Fast & Furious XXXIIXXVVVV: Fasterier Furiouser Fastest Fastener Fast trailer.

“There are millions of people in America now who want to shake you awake,” turds Dr. Phil.

“Will it be the breaking point?” asks the narrator.

“I was going to kill myself,” says the dad.

“Or the BREAK THROUGH” drones the narrator.

“In your mind you know the truth,” bleats Dr. Phil.

*fade to black*

Yes. The truth is that you, Dr. Phil, will make a lot of money on this–the same way you make money from parading out and self-righteously judging the sad, lost people of the world for enjoyment–and I will be writing another blog post about your 20-year season premiere because for some reason people feed on others’ misery.

A Fish Wrapped in Newspaper… Just for You

This month, Mr. Speaker7 and I will celebrate our wedding anniversary. Eight years….eight, long, long, long, long, long, long, long, long years. From what I understand, on the first anniversary, one bestows a gift of paper. The second, a rock followed by scissors on the third and so on and so on until the eighth, which is a fish wrapped in newspaper (reference: Martha Stewart Weddings). But I decided that my eighth anniversary gift will be a gift to you readers. Clearly I have a good handle on marriage because a) I’m still married and b) I’m not divorced.

Just look at this picture of wedded bliss:

Wedded Bliss

The high-fiving of hands is the #5 sign of wedded bliss.

I want you all to learn from my success so one day, you too can write a blog post heralding your successful marriage to my husband.  Here are eight tips for having a successful marriage:

1. Don’t marry someone who sucks. Many people make this classic rookie mistake (reference: Bridezillas). You date someone for awhile, you hate him/her and then you get this idea that you will hate him/her less if you legally bind yourself to him/her for all eternity.

2. Strive for honesty. I say strive because we all have to lie to our spouses at some time. Do you think my saddlebags make me unattractive? Nope, in fact I’d like them bigger. Is my blog funny? Yes, yes it is. You didn’t laugh when I forced you to read my latest entry. I was laughing on the inside. What does that mean? Your saddlebags look really good today.

3. Don’t be that person who says your marriage works because you’re always right and then titter because that’s so original. Have you ever taken a good gander at the people who believe they are never wrong? It’s “people” like Nancy Grace, Dr. Phil and George W. Bush. Yeah, those people are the worst.

4. Please, oh please, for the love of christ, do not put your marital woes as your status update on Facebook. There is a good chance that your spouse is a Facebook friend or if not (why isn’t your spouse your Facebook friend? that’s wrong, man) has mutual friends, and will not enjoy reading “I want to divorce _____ so much right now” and seeing that you changed your relationship status to single. And then your mutual friends and family see this and begin to comment worryingly under your update, and now it’s really hard to explain that you’re mad because your spouse ate all of the Klondike bars and you were really looking forward to one after a long day at the fishhook factory. So since that makes you look petty, you end up filing for divorce, which was truly something you would not do for Klondike bar, but in this case you did.

5. Oh my god, do I really have to say this?..do not, I repeat, do not take a picture of your genitals and send it to someone you met on the Internet. Now men, I’m going to address you now because I don’t know of many stories about women getting into a serious pickle for photographing their vaginas (yes Oprah, I’m using the word vagina. I am empowered). There is no woman alive who wants to see that. No woman. If some special Internet friend is asking to see that, s/he (always he) is likely working for Perverted Justice. On a sidenote, isn’t that just about the worst name in the world. Are they saying the only justice they dish out is perverted? They should call it what it is…a total sham.

6. Make sure your sentences have verbs. I stole this from Dr. Phil’s “A Good Marriage” advice column. I wasn’t aware that people really had a problem with this, but I’m putting it just in case you leaving notes for your spouse that read like this: I with your best friend. I home late. I you.

7. Don’t fall in love with Edward Cullen/Jacob Werewolf (I’m too lazy to look up his last name) from the Twilight series. Don’t lament that your spouse’s eyes aren’t topaz or that his arms aren’t made of marble or that he doesn’t sparkle in sunlight or that he doesn’t imprint on fetuses (I’m not getting into this part, if you want to know what it means look it up online) or doesn’t eat live chickens or doesn’t write the most boring books of all time….Don’t be these people.

8. Do not take advice from people who claim they have the key to a successful marriage. They always have no idea what they’re talking about.