writing

A Farewell to Penis

I’ve been having difficulty writing lately, and now I’ve finally figured out why:

I possess a vagina.

It gets in the way of everything. When I’m attempting to squeeze a big thought out of my tiny woman brain, my vagina interrupts the process with demands for chocolate. When I attempt to hold a pen using my weakly woman arms, my vagina shrieks about being too fat. When I try to write a post on Speaker7, my vagina threatens to set itself on fire.

It’s no wonder the ladies get paid less, amirte fellas. Up top.

David Gilmour gets it. He sees no value in teaching the drivel excreted by ladybits in his Big Dick Writers 101 seminar.

“Women be stupid,” Gilmour laments.

That’s a slight paraphrase. What he actually said was much worse:

“I say I don’t love women writers enough to teach them, if you want women writers go down the hall. What I teach is guys. Serious heterosexual guys. F. Scott Fitzgerald, Chekhov, Tolstoy. Real guy-guys. Henry Miller. Philip Roth,” Gilmour huffs whilst sticking his enormous plumbing into the biggest glory hole one has ever seen.

doucheI should probably amend the paraphrase to add women and gays be stupid, but Gilmour is likely the type of specimen to think the terms interchangable.

Gilmour is able to stop masturbating over his copy of Henry Miller’s Tropic of Cancer to give props to lady mouthpiece Virginia Woolf, stating “she made a mean bundt cake.” (slight paraphrasing)

O Captain! My Captain! …Shit! I’m trying to stand on a desk to salute this brilliant professor, but I’ve got my period and whole slew of laundry that needs a-washing.

By the way, what the blazing fuck is a woman writer anyway?

I’m answering my own question:

One who writes with her vagina.

This profile in misogyny made me harken back to my days of playing drums in a rock band that no one–apart from my parents and that guy at the bar–ever heard. I can’t tell you how many times I heard:

You’re one of the best female drummers.

I don’t know. . . is that a thing? Did male drummers have some sort of advantage by being able to use their penis to bang on the floor tom?

All great questions, but too taxing for my smaller, less interesting brain.

My vagina’s tired of writing anyways and is angrily demanding chocolate.

Speaker7’s Journey

So it begins again, dear reader. On May 27th, ABC will roll out its stained red carpet and gas up its dirty limo for another installment of The Bachelorette or what I like to call The Loss of Hope.

This season’s “star” is Desiree, a woman tossed aside by Bland The Blandest Bachelor because her brother called Bland “a player.” The correct verbiage is “douchetool.”

I watched a promotion on ABC’s “news” website because all news is entertainment at this point. Another ABC product churned out by Sylvester McMonkey McBean’s Star-Off Machine (re: American Idleautotunes in the background while we glimpse Desiree’s “journey.” It’s as inspiring as a turd’s journey from bowel to sewage treatment plant. As to be expected, there is this:

sadnessI already know what will happen. Men will call each other “bro.” Desiree will profess “This is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do” while she sends home a man as remarkable as a used tissue. And Chris Harrison will earn substantially more money than cancer researchers for saying things like: “There is one rose left.”

This got me thinking about my own “journey.” In the past, I have watched the rectal sausage produced by the ABC meatprocessing plant, and produced recraps that some find enjoyable and some find lead to acute gastroenteritis. Am I ready to start all over again and accept a mildewed rose?

I guess it comes down to my vision for this blog. It began as a mechanism to force me to write. I would continually say how much I wanted to be a writer, and then plop myself down in front of the TV for hours.

Unlike my other blog, The Official How To Blog, this blog seems rather rudderless. Do I want it to be a recrapping blog? A commentary on current events? A marketing platform for the Shakeweight™?

These are the questions that keep me up at night–or at least until 8:30 p.m. when I crash because I have the constitution of a newborn.

So I leave the question to you, dear reader. I will put forth the effort, but only if you desire it, and I won’t feel hurt if you have reached your limit.

Do you want to read the alcohol-infused ramblings of brainless meat sacks on their “journey” to find “love” and guest appearances  at wet T-shirt contests? Have you grown tired of my recycled jokes where I describe the multitude of objects I will use to bash in my skull? Or is it time we moved on. . . maybe to more serious topics like Tanning Mom’s music video?

Before you decide à la poll, I present you with this:

knight

The Fat Lady is Singing

It’s over.

Thank jolly rancher, it is the last day of November and my final day of writing a daily post. I feel like I should celebrate.

Oh right. First I’ve got to write this goddamned post.

A few days ago, I sought out your help. I asked you to vote on a series of post ideas, and you obliged me by mostly voting to allow me to rerun a post from my seedy past.

I felt as a thank you, I would write mini-versions of all the other post ideas. The mini-versions will be performed by my favorite troup of stock photo models.

Pecan Sandies – Who the Fuck Eats These? (received 2 votes, one from my mother)

You survive and yet Twinkie is dead. Seriously these cookies are disgusting. They taste like sand. I’d actually rather eat pecans covered in sand than these.

People magazine’s Top 10 Stories of 2012 even though there’s more than a month left (3 votes)

To be fair, the top 10 stories were pretty awesome.

Full disclosure: I did not know many of the “celebrities” that did these top things. I did recognize Jessica Simpson. She had a baby. Top story #6.

My Best Spam Emails (13 votes)

Most of my wordpress spam are spambots remarking on how much they’ve learned from reading my website and like studying my articles, but sometimes these spambots can be downright hurtful.

Gigantic Greeting Cards (2 votes)

This is actually a thing.

Other (7 votes)

My bad habits from A to J – suggested by Wendy of Wendy’s Works.

Significant Udders – suggested by Adam S. of My Right to Bitch.

A book review of the The Secret – suggested by Angie Z. of Childhood Relived

And finally what happened to speakers 1 through 6 – suggested by both Laura of Unlikely Explanations and Jo Eberhardt

Easter, Flag Day Sexier Than Thanksgiving

Well shit.

Here I was. All excited for my four-day Thanksgiving holiday, and come to find out that Thanksgiving is NOT a sexy holiday.

Horn of plenty? More like horn of wah-wah.

It’s true.

It’s true because I read it in Glamour magazine. Not only do I have 60 fun nail polish ideas to try this week (Must remember to stock up on nail polish remover), but I will have to do my sexy at some other holiday because scientifically,  Thanksgiving is a cold turkey.

Why so unsexy, Thanksgiving?

Because someone had a deadline to fill and someone else said “Just write something about Thanksgiving and put sex in it. Can’t you see I’m doing my nails? Fuck, I have 54 other combinations to try out. Get out of my office!”

Was I suppose to really read the article?

Cheezus cripes, okay, okay I’ll read it.

My face feels numb.

So there are 28 reasons, and I read them all. And in between my reading, I changed my nail polish 4 times.

It basically comes down to this:

Your genitals stay covered up because your Aunt Sylvia would be like “Um….why am I seeing your pubic hair” and turkey skin is all goosebumpily.

It’s not like Easter with the eggs and sperm and bunnies copulating like…well bunnies. Or Flag Day with those flags on those poles, waving their patriotism in people’s faces.

So, sorry America. You will have to celebrate your Thanksgiving in a sexless fashion, which I think kinda works since it commemorates the pilgrims and stuff and they were way uptight.

Don’t fret because Dec. 8 is Take It In the Ear Day. And that sounds sexy as shit.

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 getting in her way of her Take It In the Ear Day celebration, but she soldiers on because she loves you.

Obligatory Facebook Post

It’s not even halfway through NaBloBlowsBigAss, and I’m not going to lie to you, gentle reader, I am struggling to fill in my little wordpress writery box with a daily post.

So this is why this post is about Facebook.

Facebook is awesome. It allows you to reconnect with people you barely tolerated in high school. It is a perfect platform to share your ability to quote Bon Jovi songs or share insights into the days of the week and how they affect you. Monday is Glumday, amirite?

And you can become friends with Doritoes®.

But sometimes Facebook is not awesome. It is not awesome when people engage in facebookery that is less to be desired.

This is why we need Facebook Etiquette or Facetiquette™ or Fetiquette™ or…look just don’t engage in the following:

Facebook fights

Yes occasionally someone is going to post something that you disagree with vehemently. Maybe Monday isn’t Glumday for you. But is it really so important to get into an argument with someone you went to art camp with 25 years ago?

Do you really think you will change this person’s mind by starting off your reply “Look, you fucking idiot. . .” No, you won’t. It’s best just to move on. Like someone’s post about  puppies instead. No one comes off looking good in a Facebook Fight or Ffight™.

Facebook Guilt Trips

I know you want people to pay attention to you. That’s why you posted that Instagram of your half-eaten breakfast burrito and wrote “Breakfast burrito! Yum!” But do you have to next post this?

This is a huge guilt trip. Not only do I have to prove my worth by clicking the like button, but then I actually have to copy and paste this tripe into my status update so you will know we’re actual friends? Here’s a clue: we’re not. That’s why I ignore this, and will continue to ignore you until you stop posting this shit.

Facebook banalities

Yes you do breathe. Your heart does beat. And you eliminate waste on a regular basis. But do I need to know about this?

No. No one does. This also goes for updates like “I have nothing to say.” That’s almost as bad as admitting you don’t know what to write for a blog post so you write about Facebook.

Facebook Mysteries

Oh you engimatic poster, you! You just love the cryptic status update that keeps us on our toes. Shit like this:

The best part is you will never say what exactly was fucked up, leaving us hanging on the minutae that envelopes your daily existence. And it works…for a second, until I hear Kim Kardashian has tweeted her ass has fallen off. That is some important stuff. That’s why it’s now my status update. And don’t say you don’t know why.

Facebook hate-a-thons

Okay, okay…I get it. The guy you wanted to win the presidency didn’t and now you are filled with rage. I feel you. I lived through the 2000 election. Remember that shit? The guy who actually won didn’t become president? Remember? That was a bitter pill to swallow. Still, I don’t want to read your rage-filled rants of nonsense:

I am pissed too. I am pissed that I actually exerted energy in my eyeballs to read this.

Facebook Non-Controversies

No one is taking your Christmas away. No one is pissing on the American Flag. Yet you post this:

None of this shit is real. You know what’s real? My apathy.

You know what is acceptable? This:

I am joking. This is also awful.

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 twelfth post. Don’t believe the haters. She will beat Satan. 

Le Cult of Le Clown

I am a full-fledged carnie, I’ll admit it.

I pretty much do the bidding of a French-Canadian clown who can flex a singular ab muscle like nobody’s business.

Why do I do this?

I think it’s safe to say that I’m in a cult…or rather le cult. Le cult of le clown. I think that’s how French works; you put a “le” in front of everything and ruin freedom fries.

Le Clown first appeared on the presses of word back in February and the wordpresses have not been the same since. I believe his first post was:

“WordPress no longer sucks.”

I might have made that up, but who has time to research when you’re writing a post every day?

Le Clown professes that every day is fucking magical, and I believe it. Even when my slice of pizza fell on the dirty floor a couple days ago and I had nothing else to eat but a jar of pureed turkey and sweet potato, I felt pissed off the magic.

Le Clown can write anything, literally anything, and 200 people will show up to comment about his magnificence™. (He’s also trademarked the word magnificent™)

He could write:

“Poop is magical.”

And it will be pressed fresher than a steaming pile of cow manure–that’s just how powerful his reach is. And you know what? Poop is magical.

What is Le Clown’s greatest gift?

Well apart from his incredible charisma, he gives the gift of viewership. He features you on his site, and suddenly you have 30 new followers. It’s almost as if you, yourself, have become a cult leader.

You feel that way until a half-man puppet named Hugo reminds you of your place on the food chain. Never join le cult of le Hugo, by the way.

Le Clown recently launched a new venture, a press releases page that highlights blog posts featuring his le clowness. I am not on there, and I made it my Life Goal 2: Electric Boogaloo to rectify that grevious injustice.

Which leads me now to present the greatest interview in the history of interviews. I should know, I used to work as a reporter and got to interview the local dairy princess.

Without further ado, Speaker7 presents™ Five Questions with His Magnificence™  Le Clown™:

Q: Which cult figure are you more like and why?

  • a. Jim Jones
  • b. Hugo
  • c. Papa Smurf
  • d. Fred Phelps
  • e. Ronald McDonald

A: f. Tom Cruise

Q: Why is your following predominately made up of dames and/or broads?

A: Le Clown likes to think women dig him because of his Charles Bukowski charms. And that giganormous red apparatus of his.

Q: How do you lure us under your spell? Is it hypnotism? Or that dorky thing Eddie Cullen does? Or something clownesque?

A: Le Clown is more like herpes, the gift that keeps on giving. And because every day is fucking magical on A Clown on Fire, and Le Clown is something of a handsomer Santa (or any other non-denominational fictitious character like White Baby Jesus) there’s a bad case of clap for just about anyone on his blog. It’s the latest craze, and all the cool kids want it. As for Edward Cullen, fuck him, not just literally, unless you’re into glass shards.  

Q: What is the difference between magnificence and magnificence™?

A: The trademark™. Obviously.

Q: Usually cult leaders have some fantastical idea of how they’re going to kick the bucket. L. Ron Hubbard apparently discarded his body and went to some planet. What will happen to Le Clown?

A: What’s this crazy talk about kicking the bucket? Neil Gaiman will soon write Le Clown into a new installment of his EternalsAt least, that is what Scientology told him. Dying is for the weak anyway… everyone knows that, right Hugo?

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 eleventh post. She hates enjoys doing this because every day is fucking magical. 

10 Ways to Survive NaNoWriMo

NaNoWriMo, National Novel Writing Month, kicks off this month.

This can seem overwhelming. Fifty thousand words over the course of 30 days? What on earth were you thinking?

But don’t fret. You will survive. Just follow these tips:

1. Have a topic in mind. This may seem like a no-brainer, but I can’t tell you how many writers start writing with no set direction. I know this because I’m doing it right now. My title says I have “10 ways,” but really, I have absolutely no idea what the hell I’m going to write after this first one. Do you think it should be about cats? No, that makes no sense.

2. Cats

3. Just start writing…it doesn’t matter if you have a topic in mind. I’ll wait…okay what did you come up with?

That is….good! I think you will have no trouble reaching 50,000 words.

4. Don’t get distracted by the little things. For instance I just spilled a chicken-and-goat-cheese quesadilla into the middle of my couch cushions, but did I let that stop me from watching TV? No. It is really messy though. There’s pieces of onion, burrito shell crumbs, chicken bits. I should probably clean that up. But the vacuum cleaner is all the way upstairs! Ugh, my life is over. Over!

5. Read other writers for inspiration. Then start writing words and sentences. What did you come up with?

Holy crap! I love it, but it sounds a little too much like Fifty Shades of Grey. I would suggest making the guy a vampire to avoid any accusations of plagiarism.

6. Wow we’re already at 6!

7. Look for someone or something to blame when you ultimately fail at reaching the 50,000-word goal. Some suggestions:

  • I would have finished, but my child kept saying things like “Is there any food?” and “I don’t think the bleeding is stopping.”
  • I would have finished but my spouse kept saying “Are you not going into work again?” and “Do you think maybe today is the day you’ll take a shower?”
  • I had to go upstairs and get a vacuum to vacuum up some chicken bits and it was hard and sapped my will to live.

8.  I would have finished this, but you would not believe what I have to do right now. I have to actually climb stairs and bring down a 3,000 pound vacuum that weighs a ton, and then I have to plug it in and turn it on and I just can’t…sorry, the last two tips would have really been amazing.

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).  I mean, really, you’d have to be crazy to do that. There is absolutely no way to survive it no matter what some writer with some tip list tells you. Never believe anyone who writes a how-to type post. 

Honey NaNo WriBoo Child

Lots of bloggers have been writing about their plans to participate in National Novel Writing Month or NaNoWriMo this November. Alas, I will not be among them.

I tried to do NaNoWriMo five years ago. I naively thought 1,500 words a day was doable for me. Trouble is I spent the first few days watching TV for inspiration and began 7,500 words in the hole. I never climbed back out.

But then Jen from Sips of Jen and Tonic–The Greatest Blog on Earth™–gave me an idea. Or rather I stole her idea and hope she’s okay with it. Instead of writing a novel that no one, including myself, would want to read, why not try to do a post a day?

Jen is full of good ideas at all times.

Back during the Civil War when I began this blog, I did write a post a day–sometimes two! And then I petered out and spent my time constructing a mythical land created entirely out of potato peels.

But I think I can do it. Like that little engine who thought it could get up that hill, and then was sucked into a seedy underbelly of drugs and debauchery. I may be confusing it with Charlie Sheen.

I will admit, there will be blog posts that will have more tags than actual words in the post such as this:

Monday!

-Or-

Post!

These count.

As will posts of random clip art.

And there’s a 99.99999% chance I will just reblog whatever Jen writes every day because she’s ridiculously funny, and I ran out of ideas after “Post!”

It is going to be a long month.

How to Write the Bestest Post

It’s hard to blog. There’s so much on TV. Occasionally you have to eat or go to some place that employs you. And then there’s the thinking of some clever Halloween costume. You really can’t go as Bernie Madoff again. That is soooooo 2008.

So you despair. You think “Oh jeez, here I am writing another post about colostomy bag decoupage. Am I going to lose readers?”

Yes. Yes, you are.

But that’s why I’m here. To tell you how to write the bestest post ever. Follow my surefire method and you will sure feel the fire. . . of awesome writing. Clearly only an awesome writer could write a sentence that awesome.

1. Sound controversial without actually being controversial.

People love them some controversy because it’s so, like, controversial and stuff. But you’ll find when you take a stand on something controversial, you attract the crazies into your world. I found this out the hard way by posting something a little political on my personal Facebook page, which prompted a “friend” to go ape-shit crazy and write a horribly racist reply. Story has nice ending though since “friend” is now “unfriend”.

It’s way better to write about something everyone agrees upon, but sound like you’re taking a stand.

Some examples:

“I know I’m gonna take some heat for saying this, but I think ice cream is creamy.”

“This may shock you, but I am a big supporter of fall foliage.”

“Well readers, today I’m taking a stand. I am against…I’ll write it again…AGAINST exploding the earth.”

And then your readers will feel all smart and cutting edge for agreeing with your “controversial” stance.

2. Include photographs.

You may have noticed the whole Freshly Pressed thingamabob on WordPress, yes? They like them some pictures, the picturey the better. But what if you take pictures like this?

Yes, that’s a problem. But did you know about a thing called the Internetscape? It has pictures on it that you can take to prettify your blogscape. Some of these pictures you can actually use too without violating someone’s copyright. (FYI–the picture of my feet is protected by copyright)

Like stock photos:

Or clip art:

You can even combine the two, and suddenly it’s not just some royalty-free images, it’s art, man.

I call this piece “Is anybody listening, dawg?”

3. Write about popular topics.

My biggest downfall was spending the first few blogging months writing Thomas the Tank Engine porn. People just weren’t into it.

So what do the people like? They seem to like this singing mop-head named Justin Fever. And Fruit Roll-ups®. Oh, and travel blogs. People love them some travel blogs. But what if you don’t travel? What if you’re like me? Someone who always likes to say “Oh my god, I love traveling” while coming up with a million reasons to avoid all travel because traveling is a giant ass ache?

There’s no reason you can’t turn your trip to the grocery store into an epic adventure.

For example: I drove slowly down the street, relishing the frequent traffic lights I encountered. At one stop, I glanced to my left and spotted a delightful pawn shop. How quaint! It makes one feel like they’ve stepped back in time looking at the VCR on display in the barbed-wire covered window.

4. Write lists.

People love them some lists. Why?

1. Because they feel like they will learn something about something

2. ???

3. Because lists remind them of “My Favorite Things” from The Sound of Music and who doesn’t love that movie?

  • Julie Andrew haters
  • Nazis
  • nun haters

5. End with something memorable.

Sometimes it’s hard to come up with an ending. When I run into that trouble, I tack on an inspiring message at the end–even if it has nothing to do with anything I just wrote because people like to be inspired. Do you know that 95 percent of the population own some version of the kitten “Hang in there, baby” poster?

Hang in there, baby.

Con-sul-ta-tion

con·sul·ta·tion/ˌkänsəlˈtāSHən/

noun:

1.) The action or process of formally consulting or discussing

2.) A meeting with an expert or professional, such as a medical doctor, in order to seek advice

Did you know that a tonsillectomy entails removing one’s tonsils?

Shocking, yes?

This is what I learned yesterday from my pre-operative consultation.

The question I had asked after the nurse practitioner tried to speedily push me out the door in order to get to happy hour at a reasonable time was: So what is going to happen in the surgery?

“You’ll get your tonsils taken out,” she replied.

Um…knew that. Let me rephrase: How the fucking hell is it going to be done? Pliers? Hedge clippers? The Expelliarmus charm from Harry Potter?

“Oh…I don’t know. I’ve never witnessed a tonsillectomy before, but he’s a really good surgeon.”

Well then, I am filled with relief. He will be using the good-surgeon method as opposed to the shit-surgeon one. Phew! Big weight off my even bigger tonsils. Wait, I’m sorry, aren’t you leading my consultation about my tonsillectomy? Shouldn’t you have a basic understanding how such a surgery is performed? Can you at least tell me how long it will take?

“Oh…well, they’ll call you into a room. There’s paperwork to fill out. You’ll have anesthesia. I’m guessing…hmm…90 minutes?”

So is this guess being pulled directly out of your ass or thin air? The distinction is important to me for some reason because otherwise my brain will blow apart into little pieces. Maybe you would like to see that so you can tell future patients what that looks like.

“If that’s all…”

Hold up, hold up…um how long will it take to recover?

“A week.”

Okay, well I read on some blogs written by people who had this saying the first couple of days aren’t so bad, it’s really fifth–

“Tenth,” she interrupts. “Tenth day’s usually hard. You’ll be fine.”

You just said I would recover in a week. Although I feel completely insane, I’m pretty sure there are still only seven days in a week.

“Oh, you are right! Anyway, I don’t want to keep you. You’ll do great.”

Wait..wait…wait. I’m getting anesthesia so is there any time I should stop eating?

“Oh yeah. Yeah, that’s right. Don’t eat after midnight.”

Because I’ll turn into a Gremlin? This might have been something to have told me during our consultation not in this five-second frenzy of quick questioning as you stick one leg out the door.

Here was the consultation:

“You’ll need pain medication, but don’t worry, it’s liquid.”

“You can have milkshakes after the surgery. Vanilla not chocolate.”

“He’s a good surgeon.”

She did listen to my heart.

“Wow. It’s pitter-pattering like a little humming bird.”

No shit.