Really, Internet? Yes. Really.

Today was errand day. It’s one day a week: Monday. We pack all the errands into that day so that we can avoid leaving the house the rest of the week. By the end of even a moderate Monday errand day I’m exhausted, crabby, and unwilling to tolerate anything. And that’s like two stops.

Today’s Monday errand day included nine stops spread over two cities. It was terrible. A terrible Monday errand day.

You can imagine, then, how I felt about getting home to find that another infuriating thing had gone viral on the Internet. I should have just not gone online. After errand day the only thing I should do is pop open a bottle of wine and cuddle up with my Netflix. But I was waiting to hear back from someone about this art show I’m doing in March, so I just wanted to check.

And so I got mad. Monday errand day mad.

No less than six people on my Facebook profile had shared this picture so vile and awful, I almost fell speechless. On the surface it seems like it’s just supposed to be some funny meme. A funny meme from well over a year ago that a random group of people just happened to pick up on, and has now gone viral. Really, it’s a silly thing to get so mad over. I mean it’s got this bland cartoon of a woman and this quote of supposedly-sage advice “always remember, it’s better to arrive late than to arrive ugly.”


But is it really silly to get mad about this? I would argue this thing raises some serious issues.

Am I The Only One Who Doesn’t Give A Shit About How I Look?

Don’t get me wrong, I still bathe daily and brush my teeth. And sometimes I throw on a little mascara, or put on a cute hair clip. But beyond making sure I don’t look like a homeless person or a drug addict, I basically don’t give a single fuck about how I look.

That goes for what I wear too. 90% of my wardrobe is yoga pants, tank tops, hoodies, and oversized t-shirts.

And why should I live any way other than this? Worrying excessively about how I look is an indication that I care too much about what others think of me. Again, it’s all about the time and place too. Obviously I’m not going to wear my yoga pants that are torn up at the feet to a wedding. Clearly I’ll pick and choose when it’s appropriate to show up with a unibrow (actually it’s never OK to show up with a unibrow). But at the risk of sounding sanctimonious, what kind of an example is refusing to leave the house unless I look perfect setting for my kids?

And plus…I have two kids. Once you have two or more kids, there is a different standard by which all things are judged.


If people are truly comfortable and confident in high heels, pants that need pliers to be zipped up, and 70 layers of pancake makeup, well kudos to them. I’m not sure I believe it, but kudos. That doesn’t change, though, the weird feeling I get when I know there are people out there who will actually refuse to leave the house for any reason at all without them.

Am I The Only One That Thinks Being Late To Apply Mascara Is A Little Narcissistic?

I mean…

Being late because there was a traffic accident on the freeway? Acceptable.

Being late because your aunt died and your uncle called to give you funeral details as you were walking out the door? Of course this is cool.

Being late because you wanted to finish your morning beauty routine before leaving the house? Well fuck you.

No really. Fuck you.

I have a serious problem with people that show up late. I understand that things come up, and I have been late more times than a lot of people, I’m sure. But I usually have a decent reason, and moreover I always – ALWAYS – send a text or call to say “hey, I’m running late.”

And it has never – NEVER – been because I prioritized my hair products or my lip liner over the respect whomever I’m showing up late to deserves. I mean really: isn’t it a little self-centered to think that your beautification is more important than another person’s time? They can just sit there pulling their pud while you apply false eyelashes?

Am I The Only One Concerned About The Messages We Send To Our Kids?

There are three symbols on the bottom lefthand corner of that dumb meme: a high heeled shoe, a lipstick, and a lipsticked-set-of-lips. Each of those symbols represents one very important idea: hiding who you really are. Making yourself taller. Tinting your lips brighter. Puckering those babies fuller.

Changing something about yourself, and then going a step further and calling an unchanged self “ugly.”

When I read that, over and over again as I scrolled through my Facebook feed and saw all the people that had shared it, I felt the nagging, unsettled feeling in the pit of my stomach that comes up when I read something I just know is wrong – like the moral kind of wrong.

But then I Googled the phrase: “Always remember, it’s better to arrive late than to arrive ugly,” and tons of alternatives of the meme came up. It’s a colloquialism, something we have adapted as a way of life.


Maybe I’m just being old fashioned, or too hard on a silly joke intended for the sides of make up bags, but this seems to reflect a bigger problem our culture has. That what is on the outside is far more important than all else, and that respect and common courtesy is disposable if you can think of something better to do.

Really, Internet? Yes. Really. At least if you believe what the memes say.

STFU Fridays: Stop Judging Yourself

If I had a second middle name, it would be self-loathing. I hate myself probably more than I hate other people.

If you know anything about me, you know that’s a lot of hate.

I am constantly self-depricating to other people too, which I think is a defense mechanism because I know that secretly, in the annals of other people’s minds, I am being judged. At least where I live – in the trendiest and hipsterest community in all of Southern California – that’s just what we do. And it’s better that I be the one to highlight my malfunctions than someone else do it.

But in my heart there is the person that also doesn’t give a flying fuck. Not a singular fuck that flies. Because in that heart I know that it isn’t all about appearances and looks and set ups, so much as it is what’s inside.

So for this most glorious of Shut the Fuck Up Fridays, I would like to talk about no longer judging yourself (myself).

The Way You Look

Seriously. Shut the fuck up worrying about how big your butt looks already. And while you are at it, shut the fuck up about your hair too.

Every woman loves a compliment. You look pretty. Your hair is gorgeous today. You are more beautiful than the day I met you. And so on. Those things are vital to a healthy relationship – I am not by any means contending that they are anything other than necessary. Coming from the woman that never hears these things (and I mean that my husband has said the word “beautiful” once and “pretty” never in the entire time I have known him), really and truly we should all resolve to shut the fuck up and love ourselves. In spite of how other people think. And/or neglect to communicate.

It isn’t just about the feelings we have about the way we look, either; it’s about being comfortable. Recently I came to realize that all this happy horse shit about looking cute every day is for the birds.

For. The. Birds.

Since then, I’ve embraced my Stay At Home Mommedness and worn pajama pants and/or yoga pants and/or a bra tank top with a sweater, pretty much everywhere. I wore yoga pants out to breakfast with my husband’s grandparents. We went on vacation and 3/4 of what I took were lounge pants and comfy t-shirts. I’m thinking about wearing yogas to my daughter’s birthday party tomorrow. It’s just that life is way too short to spend the majority of it in front of the mirror. And if people don’t love you for your sloppy ponytail that you had to go with so you had time to – oh I don’t know – spend quality time with others, then they are probably not worth having in your life.

Shut the fuck up and stop worrying about looking like that perfect mom you see every time you go to the mall. You know her: she has cute jeans, sparkly TOMS, and the most amazing hair ever. That bitch has like two nannies and a professional cook at home to allow her to look so cute, and she cannot remember her children’s full names – so fuck her and be yourself.

The Things You Say

This is a fine line. A fine, motherfucking line we are walking here, people.

Sometimes the things that you say can and will alienate you from the entire universe. Or get you arrested. Or at the very least get you added onto the NSA’s top wire-tapping list.

But other times, you worry way too goddamned much about not hurting people’s feelings, or saying the right thing, or sounding eloquent, or whatever it is that you worry about – so instead you say NOTHING. Or you LIE.

Shut the fuck up with that bullshit, people. I say a lot of really raucous and blunt things. And I just don’t give a fuck anymore what people think about it.

My husband doesn’t ever come home and/or communicate with me? Of course I’m going to say that to my mother in law when we are chatting about the fact that he didn’t call me back for like four hours when we needed to ask him something while out Christmas shopping. Am I supposed to patsy around that for fear that she may think I’m a nasty person for “bad mouthing” my man?

I’m going to say something right now that you all are going to think is absolutely insane. This bitch is off her fucking rocker. Are you ready?

It isn’t bad mouthing if it’s true.

Stop judging yourself people for saying what you think, feeling what you want, and communicating what is on your mind. People will have way more respect for you in the end than they do for people that stay silent or walk on egg shells out of the big F (fear). Of course there is a way to communicate (for example, if your wife is looking rather portly lately, you should perhaps tread lightly), but I think you all get that we are talking about something much bigger here.

The Way Your Stuff Looks

Yeah, fuck you too Pinterest.

Since Pinterest and Instagram and the Internet, and a general sense of feeling like our lives have to be bigger, better, and more perfect than the next guy, it seems like the presentation of things has become more important than the things themselves.

For example, I wish I had a refund for every wedding I have attended where the food and the cake looked AMAZING, but tasted like utter dog shit. Dog shit rolled in bacon. Rotten bacon.

And kid’s parties are the worst. Maybe not the absolute worst, because baby showers, Thanksgiving, and Christmas seem to be following up at a close second. Or a dinner at home on your average Friday night. More and more, we are finding ourselves judging ourselves publicly viz a viz the Internets. By posting photos, or not posting photos just as we saw someone else post photos we think are way better than ours we have become the most judging, self-loathing people that compare our lives to others in ways that make even a sort-of Buddhist cringe.

Jus stop it already, people. All of your fucking gift baskets and cupcakes look awesome. I have a really hard time believing that you garnish your dinners with parsley on a typical Tuesday night – so quit uploading photos of you doing it, because we know it was just for show and because you judged yourself into doing it. And if the stuff you have doesn’t look amazing… if they are – GASP – just cupcakes with frosting slopped on, or bare walls without a gallery-style set of paintings… oh fucking well.

It’s time we all shut the fuck up and stop judging ourselves. I think we’ll all be much happier doing so. I know I will.


Reasons You Should Admit Your Baby Is Ugly

There’s no denying that there are a lot of babies out there that are ugly as hell.  I suppose that in the end the love you feel as a parent of your newborn child blinds you from seeing the truth; or possibly your opinion of what makes a baby beautiful is just different than every other single human being on the planet.  In any event, it will greatly benefit your baby if you just admit – once and for all – that he or she is damn ugly.  Here’s why:

Reason #1:  Admitting that your baby is ugly as all hell will make you more aware of how much ridicule your baby will be up for when you share his or her photographs all over the Internet.  In the digital age, parents have become out of control with the sharing of baby pictures online.  If you’re like me, you have ghads of friends sharing their baby photos (the majority of which are actually adorable) on every social network and other online sharing site they can.  The problem with this, though, is that if your baby is truly ugly, those photographs are being pirated by humor sites, like  Potentially, your ugly assed infant is being put up for ridicule by thousands (if not millions) of Internet users, just because you couldn’t admit to yourself that the kid is fugly and that you should ratchet down the public photo sharing as a result.  Share with close family and closer friends; keep it off Flickr public view.

Reason #2:  Admitting that you have a less-than-beautiful baby will inspire you to avoid gimmicky shit, like hideous hats or poses at professional photo shoots.  Let’s face it, when you have a drop-dead gorgeous baby, you could put a pile of dog feces on the kid’s head and it would still look adorable.  But when your baby is ugly, different rules apply.  Placing a gimmicky and stupid-looking prop on the kid’s head for your annual trip to get your free 8X10 from the Sears Photo Center is just going to make your baby look even uglier.  Eventually, your kid is going to outgrow that ugly phase of their life – very likely somewhere during childhood or early puberty.  But there will always be a collection of hideous photographs to immortalize their once-upon-a-time ugliness.  Why make it worse with horrific props?

Reason #3:  Admitting that your baby makes a gargoyle look attractive will stop you from forcing your friends to lie to your face, and (even worse) on those horrible “cutest baby” contests.  Every day some asshole friend of mine is posting for the 100th time one of those “vote for the cutest baby” Gerber contest entries on Facebook or Google+, with the request that I vote for their kid daily until the contest is over.  Not only is asking someone to go back and vote every, single day a bit rude, but to ask me to lie and say the kid is cute, when in fact it is hideous, is just not cool.  Worse is when I go to a friend’s house and they shove the kid in my face, asking “..isn’t he cute?  Isn’t he just adorable?  Don’t you just want to pinch those little cheeks?!”  My natural response to this would be “…cheeks?  I can’t see past the eleven layers of chin!” – but instead I stick with “oh, yes – he’s lovely.”  I would never ask a friend or family member if they thought my kid was cute.  Why, you ask?  Because I would be utterly destroyed if they said “no.”  Further, I would be even more utterly destroyed if my someone I trusted had lied to me, even about just how terrifying my newborn child was to look at.

Reason #4:  Finally, if you admit that your baby is ugly, you will be more apt to notice things that are easily fixable in the early stages – preventing your child from a lifetime of ridicule.  Your baby have a piece of skin flap hanging over part of his eye?  Admit that your baby is ugly and you will get this taken care of when it is simple and relatively painless, rather than later on after it has screwed up the kid’s vision and he’s been subject to years of bullying by kids that call the skin flap his conjoined twin.  Your ugly-as-hell baby have a mole on her forehead that resembles the Virgin Mary?  Have that shit cut off and the scar will be virtually unnoticeable by the time she’s five (whereas leaving the mole will just result in it continuing to stretch, grow, get uglier, demand veneration, possibly give birth to another mole resembling Jesus; and finally, probably become cancerous when your child is an adult).  Admitting to yourself that the little uglinesses of your baby are, in fact, ugly is rife with possibilities of what you can do to fix the things that may make your kid suffer a lot less ridicule as time goes on.

Ultimately, we all want to accept the human body for what it is; to admit that we are humans and thus flawed, and accept that we are who we are.  But isn’t that an unbelievable crock of shit?  We live in a material world – a material world in which we are all very material girls.  To deny the impact that looks have on our society is to deny the very fabric of who we are.  More attractive people get paid better, get more opportunities, and are even liked and loved better.  That doesn’t mean we need to tell ugly adults they are ugly – because ultimately, as adults we are all relatively ugly in some way or another, and we also all develop our own patterns of beauty that may or may not be correlative to physical traits.  It just means that when we have an ugly baby, we should admit it and not set them up for even more ridicule so early on.  Life is full of bullies and bull shit.  Admitting that your baby is uglier than ugly will at least make the situation a little more realistic and less ridiculed from the get-go.