Thursday, June 11, 2009

I am not a man dressed as a wolf in sheep's clothing. I swear!

DISCLAIMER: No Giant Squid Babies, or Sheep, were harmed in the making of this post. Unless you want them to have been harmed because people are really good at convincing themselves of anything these days.

Believe it or not, I am indeed female.

I know, I know. Half of you are wondering why I am not in the kitchen making you a sandwich, and the other half are going "WTF? You have an extra rib?! You're not entitled to that because you don't follow the Woman Code! The all powerful code that all women must abide by when their girls are in trouble and need ice cream and three in the morning because some guy named Chico she'd been on-again-off again- giant squid baby-marmalade sandwiches-something something something who was a scum bag anyway ran off with their step mother, and then it turned out they were related so any children they might have had would have been mentally retarded, so that explains the giant squid baby".


To the first half of my audience, I say "HAHA! I have you beat! I am in the kitchen WITH my laptop, and if you want a sandwich it's three dollars. Unless you're Chico. Then apparently I have to hurt you or something. Also I'm pretty sure all you got out of that was giant squid baby, but whatever. I'm just going to stop that impersonation there before I feel like I need to go take a shower and scrub every single skin cell off of my body.

To the second half of my audience I say: If you are in that situation, you are a moron. Knock it off and find a real man. Also, you might want to hide the giant squid-baby. I hear the government doesn't take too kindly to those. And we don't want to government to be all RAWR at you because then you'll go all PMS-warzone I'm secretly Chuck Norris in disguise and I'm going to fix America by round-house kicking the government into shape because SQUID BABIES ARE PEOPLE TOO!

Wow, I just got violently off topic there. See, the moral of that little tidbit was to let you know that I am usually very terrible at giving girl advice. Seriously.

Apparently the girly solution to the situation above is to bring like, eight tubs of chocolate ice cream (eww, this disgusts me already) to the scene of the crime so that the girl, we'll call her Tracy, can engorge herself. Also, you're supposed to keep the giant squid baby asleep by being all motherly or something. (I'm pretty sure they just slip the kid half a Benadryl. No, I don't advocate this. Give them a full one. Haha, just kidding. I know I'm a terrible person for making that joke). Then you start talking about what a jerk Chico is and how Tracy never should see him again and just become the single mother of a Giant Squid Baby, even though she's too proud to ask for assistance. We'll just ignore the fact that even though Chico is jerk, he still has some custody over the giant squid baby (I'm sick of typing this, so we'll just call it GSB from now on) and makes more money than Tracy anyway, so she'd probably lose custody of the GSB and then be all heartbroken and sad for the rest of her life until she finds another fixer-upper man to waste her life away on.

I feel dirty just for typing that. My advice to that problem is much more simple and direct:

Step One: You shouldn't have been in this relationship in the first place. Get over it.

Step Two: To avoid custody battles, tabloids, press time, and the government, dispose of the Giant Squid Baby. It’s not human anyway. It's a freaking GIANT SQUID! Don't look at me like that. Seriously, tabloids are crazy. And if you think you won't get harassed, you're wrong. Look at Octo-mom, or whatever. She was harassed forever, and she wasn't even an OCTOPUS! You have a giant squid baby! That's like, TV GOLD!

How can you do this? Well, adoption isn't really an answer, but making giant calamari is.

See, simple and easy. And delicious. All you have to do is pop the calamari in the oven or fry it take the first step This is an win-win situation!

Okay, I definitely feel the need to say here and now, just in case someone gets offended, that I do not advocate the cooking or disposal of babies. The above advice was based on an extremely hypothetical (and potentially very tasty) situation. I'm sure the government would have released the giant squid baby into the sea, after making sure it was nurtured, so that it could live in an appropriate and non-tabloid or being experimented on way.

Now that the second disclaimer is over, I guess I'll quit rambling about giant squid babies.

Okay. I can't stop thinking about GSB now.

....

Alright. Done.

Now, don't get me wrong, POOMSOSA. I do enjoy giving advice when people actually need it. My advice is always good and flowy and makes perfect sense.

Okay, that's totally a lie. I can't even type that with a straight face. My advice is usually good, but sometimes I get tempted to play the devil's advocate.

Usually I use this tool whenever one of my friends who happen to be a girl (because if I say girlfriend some people in here might be all OMG! LESBIAN BURN THE WITCH!) comes to me with a legitimate problem, and a legitimate solution, but their solution is completely wrong for the situation because it's tempered by the kryptonite of reason, Estrogen. Also, I happen to be extremely bored during these adventures.

Yes. I'm making that stand right now. Estrogen is one of the many kryptonites’ of reason. Don't fight with me on this. I will win.

Basically what I'm saying is that I give the best advice EVER.

Here is an example:

[09:54] Holli: However, babies make it hard to finish school
[09:55] Holli: Which is the ONLY reason I agreed to wait.
[09:55] Holli: Despite my future mother-in-laws pleas to give her grandbabies

[09:56] Amber: Heheh
[09:56] Holli: and the pleas from my effeminate maternal inner self to listen to her and not reason
[09:56] Amber: You should probably stop. I'm seriously tempted to play devil's advocate.
[09:57] Holly: LoL... in the words of my womb "Doo Itt!"
[09:57] Amber: I think I'll resist.
[09:57] Amber: For once.
[09:58] Holli: Either way, it is planned... and it is the best compromise I have.
[09:58] Amber: That's true.
[09:58] Amber: Unless you have sex like, a hundred times a week. Because if you're on the pill, and you do that, there is like, a .01 chance that you'll get pregnant or something.
[09:58] Holli: I am allowed to try for babies when I graduate as long as at least one of us has a job and we have a home.
[09:58] Holli: LMAO
[09:59] Holli: One would really get sore like that

[09:59] Amber Deschamps: And if you're doing this every week in the year, that's like a .52 chance you'll get pregnant, guilt free.

See, best advice ever.



...

Does it make me a horrible person if I want calamari right now?

2 comments:

Holli said...

Eat the calamari and I'll name you Godmother when I finally give into my MIL and Uterus :D

Subatomic Tomato said...

Done. I want to be the Godmother so bad. I'll devote a room in my house to making it look like the Godfather's. Giant guerrilla warrior thugs and all.

OH MY GOD! Pin stripe hats and suits...

I really shouldn't let me imagination run away with me.

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