Color Inside The Lines

Posted on October 7, 2013 by Jill Foer Hirsch

We already know (well, I’ve told you before, so if you were listening you already know) that stupidity is enhanced by alcohol. One of the more idiotic things some people do when drunk is get a tattoo. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Really? So you met a girl at a strip club one night and thought it would be awesome to have her name tattooed across your chest? Adorable, but are you going to know who the hell Kandy Kane is when you wake up? Bet your wife will have a few questions too.

I offer for your consideration a show called Bad Ink. Set in Vegas, it’s a reality show about two tattoo artists who drive around looking for bad tattoos, and figuring out how to fix them. Yep, 30 minutes of Vegas tattoos. Let me assure you there is no shortage of bad ink.

This is not kosher!

This is not kosher!

Some of the tattoos are bad because they are poorly executed, by someone who is more of a butcher than an artist. Others are bad because…well, alcohol, primarily. And a few are a scary combination of both. How else do you explain a guy who had a tattoo of a heart with “Will You Merry Me?” scrawled across his arm? Or the guy who got a tattoo that made his belly button look like it was a monkey’s butt? Thank goodness they were able to transform it into a roaring lion!

Before

Before

After

After

Best of all, and you know I couldn’t make this up, was a guy whose nickname was “booger.” His tattoo was a self-portrait with his finger up his nose. For some reason, his girlfriend refused to marry Prince Charming until he did something about it.

Some tattoos are just silly and obvious, like vanity license plates. If you drive a red Corvette I don’t think you need plates that say RD VETTE. We can see that for ourselves. And no plates that say things like HOT DUDE; we’ll be the judge of that. Because from here you look like a chimp driving a sports car. But unlike vanity plates, tattoos are forever.

I always like to educate my readers, so here are a few more pointers for those of you just itching to get a tattoo:

  1. Use spellcheck. You really don’t want to ask her to merry you.
  2. Put the tattoo in an area that is almost always covered up by clothing
  3. Remember that bodies change over time. Today’s Chihuahua may be a horse by the time you’re 40.
  4. You have never in your life, nor will you ever, love someone enough to have their name tattooed anywhere on your body.
  5. If your frat brothers think a particular tattoo is a good idea…it probably isn’t.
  6. If everyone at a bachelor’s party decides to get a tattoo…it’s probably a bad idea.
  7. If you are visiting a tattoo “artist” who is a “well-kept secret”…there is probably a reason no one talks about him.
  8. Careful with foreign languages. If Chinese people frequently point at you and laugh, your tattoo is probably not the symbol for “serenity” or “long life.”
  9. If you’re getting a tattoo on a dare…it’s probably a bad idea.
  10. Remind me again why you’re getting a tattoo?
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Government Shutdown = Family Breakdown

Posted on October 4, 2013 by Jill Foer Hirsch

Much has been written about this government shutdown and the idiot hyenas we call Congress (with all due respect to hyenas). I won’t attempt to out-pundit or over-think or under-mine the situation. But if you want to know how this shutdown is affecting people directly, welcome to my home.

Dan has been home since Tuesday. Although I wrote a book (did I mention that?), unless thousands of you immediately go out and buy three copies, we’re not paying the mortgage with royalties. But we’re luckier than a lot of people affected by this situation; so far we are in no danger of losing our basic necessities: food, shelter, fuzzy mice and satellite TV.

Here’s the tragedy no one wants to talk about-the marriages falling into ruin over this forced togetherness. I love my husband. In fact, I love my husband enough to let him go…to work, every day, please, please, please. If I ever had a worry that Dan might be seeing a little hottie when I thought he was at work, well, apparently not. No gambling problem either, I guess. Nope, it would appear that if he is not at work he has absolutely nowhere to be.

I don’t begrudge Dan his afternoon snack, really I don’t. But in the history of mankind has anyone ever chomped on pretzels ANY LOUDER than Dan? I think not. Of course I can’t think right now because of all the racket in here.

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And how many of you routinely giggle while reading Scientific American? Fine, maybe something is funny, but am I allowed to ignore it? Not a chance. Dan chuckles and reads something to me that might be considered science humor, if I understood a word of it. I’ve learned to giggle nervously in the hopes that Dan will shove another pretzel in his mouth and go on about his business.

You know what’s worse though? When Dan isn’t reading or chomping on pretzels, and I’m sitting in the kitchen working on the computer, minding my own damn business, and he feels the need to sneak up behind me and say “Whatcha doin’?” And I screech and come flying out of my chair. And you know what Dan has to say about that, when he finishes laughing at me? “Geez, are you deaf and blind, you knew I was right here.” For the record, yes! I am deaf, I am blind, and pretty soon he’s going to be wishing I was dumb, because a stream of curse words seem to be spilling out of my mouth.

It’s not just my routine that’s been upset either. Consider the cats. How is Helen supposed to keep up on her beauty sleep when Dan is parked in her recliner all day? How are Jack, Janet and Chrissy supposed to tell the difference between the crackle of a bag of pretzels and the crackle of a bag of kitty treats? And nothing is sadder than seeing them put their little paws over their little ears because Daddy is crunching too loud.

So it is not for my sake that I ask, but on behalf of my poor kitties, please get my husband back to work. Way, way, way back to work.

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Craig Price Checked My Reality

Posted on October 1, 2013 by Jill Foer Hirsch

Welcome to Breast Cancer Awareness Month! If you are a woman, you may already be aware that you have breasts. Of course sometimes, even the nicest boobs can betray you. Worry not, I will not let you forget about it this month.

You may recall that in July I blogged about Craig Price, a speaker, writer and former stand-up comedian who stole my life. Sort of. It’s complicated.

Anyway, in what I can only assume was a fit of guilt, Craig invited me to be a guest on one of his podcasts.  And between you and me, I didn’t even really know what a podcast was. As usual, he was gracious and put me at ease and laughed at my jokes. We talked about my boobs a lot because, did I mention I wrote a book, When Good Boobs Turn Bad: A Mammoir? I hate to keep bringing it up, that would be typical me obnoxious.

Well, if you haven’t had enough of me, me, me (and really, is it ever enough?), and even if you have, you should listen to this, because Craig is I am really talented.

episode105_Jill_Foer_Hirsch

 

 

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It Was A Bagel-Sized Bagel

Posted on September 28, 2013 by Jill Foer Hirsch

Let’s see, my three favorite topics are cats, TV and food. I’m pretty sure it’s time to work a food blog into the rotation. Long ago in a land far away yours truly worked with a dietician to try to figure out how to manage the Food Situation. The first thing the dietician had me do was keep a food diary. She emphasized the importance of writing down absolutely everything I ate and drank.

She wisely cautioned me that being less than honest was really only going to hurt me in the end. So I was really, really honest. But some things are hard to describe. Like if I grabbed some M&Ms out of a candy jar. I didn’t count each individual candy! So I wrote down “handful of M&Ms” in my food diary. When I met with the dietician she asked me to describe a handful. I cupped both my hands together into a bowl that could probably hold a good quarter pound of candy. “Umm, like this, I guess, if you count both handfuls.” She peered at me over her glasses and frowned. I get that a lot.

She said “Jill, what am I going to do with you?” and honestly, I get that a lot too. I reminded her that at a bare minimum I kept her entertained and she at least met me on common ground there. We moved forward with our portion size discussion, aided by her little props. Rubber food. A little wedge of cheese. A deck of card size slab of protein. And the smallest little dot of peanut butter you can imagine. When she told me that was a full serving of peanut butter, I told her that’s actually just about the amount I lick off the knife while I’m making my sandwich. She peered, frowned, and sighed.

Ultimately, and here’s no surprise, my dietician dumped me. She said, “Please know that I love you–it’s not you—it’s me. Can’t we just be friends?” but then mere hours later I saw her warming up to another patient, a more compliant patient no doubt. It cut like a knife. Just like the kind I use to make a peanut butter sandwich.

I came across this You Tube clip from GableKermit recently and really loved it. It’s about 11 minutes long, and worth watching all the way through:

My life as a dietitian.  This is a compilation of people I have seen in my office

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I’m A Winner! And A Loser!

Posted on September 25, 2013 by Jill Foer Hirsch

Thank you to my fellow bloggers; I won the Is Everyone An Idiot But Me Blog Hop last week! This time I came in 1st place, handily beating all the other competition. And by “all the other competition” I mean one other, really good, entry. I accepted the award on behalf of my minions, all of my adoring fans around the world. Ahh, the applause is still echoing in my ears.

This award is extra special for me because in general, everyone is an idiot but me. Except when I’m being an idiot. For example, apparently I don’t know how to navigate a convenience store anymore. I discovered this when I ventured into a Sheetz, an emporium of low price gas and gourmet treats. I wasn’t sure they had any food I would eat, I just wanted to take a look around, see what they were offering. But I couldn’t find a menu anywhere. Nor did I see prepared food on display. Nor did there appear to be a counter with a helpful teenager taking orders. Nor did I use the word nor too many times in the same paragraph.

Anyway, I did what anyone would do in this situation-put my head down and got the hell out of there. I told Dan I wasn’t going back in because I didn’t know how to find the food. I am not a hunter or a gatherer. I’m more of a wait-in-the-car-until-someone-brings-you-food species. But Dan assured me that he could show me how to find the food, and he pointed me in the right direction.

It turns out that Sheetz has these little kiosks, with pretty pictures of food. I didn’t know if I was supposed to touch it or talk to it or what. I was feeling really old and confused. I figured touching the kiosk would be less obvious than talking to it, so I tried that first. Victory! It was a touch screen after all; something an ordinary toddler could figure out. And I wished there was an ordinary toddler in the vicinity who could show me how to move beyond the first page of the menu.

I tried swiping my finger across the screen, first horizontally and then vertically. I tried swiping my whole hand across the screen. Nothing. In an act of sheer desperation I tried to focus my mind on moving to the next page of the menu, thinking maybe it operated on instructions transmitted directly from my brain. Yep, not only was I an idiot, I was a crazy idiot. In fairness, now that we have machines that follow voice commands and people routinely talk to inanimate objects, it’s not much of a leap to the aluminum foil hat.

The bottom line is I left empty-handed. Even though some kind of delicious-looking iced coffee type thing was on sale for $2 for the mega-size, and I really wanted one.

I understand a lot of young people are worried about finding jobs, and I can see why. Hang tough though kids, because people like me are going to have to hire people like you to act as our intermediary with the technology that replaced you to begin with. I can only pay minimum wage…but you can have all the iced coffee you can figure out how to buy.

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Idiot Of The Week: HR Edition

Posted on September 22, 2013 by Jill Foer Hirsch

OK, let’s try this Blog Hop again. I came in 2nd place last week (out of 2 entries) so please get your act together and Like this post early and often!

badge-small

As a former manager and human resources professional, I have a wealth of idiot stories to share. I could go on all day, but here are some of my personal favorites:

The Inappropriate Dresser: You come to work, at a law firm, wearing cut-offs, a tank top, and flip-flops, and then seem shocked when I call you in to my office and tell you to go home and change. You then look me in the eye and tell me that you didn’t know tank tops were a problem.

The Over-Tattler: You come to my office and breathlessly tell me that your co-worker took a 64 minute lunch, which you happen to know because you were of course returning from your 58 minute lunch, as a rule-follower. You always allow a two minute cushion, just in case.

The Under-Tattler: Your co-worker backs a truck up to the loading dock every week and fills it with office supplies. But hey, it’s none of your business, and no, you have no idea why we’re going through pens so quickly.

The Rule Lover: Frequently this is the same person as the over-tattler. You love rules. You want more of them. You want me to regulate every tiny detail of the workplace so you can catch people who are not in compliance. You were the one in my office asking me to send out an email telling people not to move someone else’s sandwich from one shelf in the fridge to another shelf. You also express a desire to implement capital punishment for anyone who takes the last paper towel and doesn’t replace the roll.

The Rule Challenger: You’re always in my office asking why. You: Why do we have a dress code? Me: Well, because this is a professional workplace, and clients might be in the office. You: But are there going to be clients in the office today? Me: Really? You’re really going to ask me that?

The Attendance is Optional: Yesterday, you were out because your sister stubbed her toe. The day before that you were out because your neighbor had a flat tire and you thought you should keep her company until AAA showed up. And just last week, your psychic predicted traffic would be bad, so you stayed home to avoid it. Yeah, you’ll try to make it in tomorrow, if nothing more interesting comes up.

The Bad Luck Magnet: It was a tough break that all seven of your grandparents died within a six month period. Then, just as you were working through the grief, your car blew up. Just when you got that squared away your child broke a limb and you were stuck in the ER. For four days. And even though we are in the middle of a record-breaking drought, your basement is flooded.

The Overworked: You work harder than anyone else in the entire company. Really, you are so busy you should probably have another assistant. You are so incredibly swamped that you sit in my office for 30 minutes every day telling me how bad it is.

The Underappreciated: Yes, I saw that you came to work on time three days in a row, but that still doesn’t qualify you for the “Above and Beyond” award. We will award you a paycheck every two weeks, however. Thanks for playing.

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It’s A Big, Furry Deal

Posted on September 19, 2013 by Jill Foer Hirsch

Well I’ll be damned. I’ve been so busy promoting my book, I neglected to score endorsement deals for my cats. The so-called “Grumpy Cat” (aren’t they all?) on the other hand, is set for catnip and chow for life.

AP Photo/Nestle Purina PetCare

AP Photo/Nestle Purina PetCare

I don’t know what it is about social media that allowed felines to move to the top of the food chain, but there they sit. I don’t object—obviously I’m a cat lover, I guess I’m just kind of jealous. According to this article, Grumpy Cat’s Facebook page has 1.3 million likes and she has 111,000 Twitter followers.

But that’s not all. Nope, the article goes on to say “…the 1 ½ year old mixed-breed feline has a merchandise line and reportedly has a movie deal in the works.” Really? And I couldn’t get a part in my frackin’ high school play? My only hope to sponge off of Grumpy Cat at this point is to ghost write the NY Times bestseller you just know is coming.

I’m not going to elaborate on my feelings about cats and hot mess reality stars named Snooki who “write books” that end up on the NY Times bestseller list, because it would make me sound bitter, which I am. Likewise I’m not going to mention that Grumpy Cat’s owner is ironically named Tabatha, which is like one of the top five cat names ever. Tabatha is laughing all the way to the bank.

But Tabs, and I hope you don’t mind if I call you that, here’s some unsolicited but important advice: First, if you haven’t already, insure the cat for a gazillion dollars with Lloyd’s of London. Second, go online right now and find a Grumpy Cat lookalike at some pound, somewhere. Because if I had a cat that coughed up golden hairballs, so to speak, I would make sure I had an understudy waiting in the wings. With a name like Tabatha, you should remember how well it worked when Darrin #2 casually showed up on Bewitched.

Here’s the bottom line. We are keeping four (4) cats in Friskies and cat litter right now, not to mention endless packages of fuzzy mice. So at least one of them better start getting movies and endorsement deals, or they might be moving in with Aunt Snooki.

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You Heard It Here First

Posted on September 17, 2013 by Jill Foer Hirsch

I’m incredibly talented. Witty, bright, hilarious. I’ve been telling you that for a while; trying to convince you of that for quite some time now. But now, you don’t have to just take my word for it!

Ann Silberman, the talented woman behind www.butdoctorihatepink.com agreed to read my book and write a review. I wasn’t sure what to expect–what if my book wasn’t the masterpiece I told myself it was? Close your eyes and envision the fragmented pieces of my delicate ego. Not pretty, right? Mostly because you would be subjected to even more of my whining. Well good news, we’re all in luck, because Ann did like my book.

I know I’ve used this forum for shameless self-promotion before, but in addition to boldly reminding you to buy my book, I would also like to promote the website Breast Cancer? But Doctor…I Hate Pink. Check it out–there’s fun stuff and beautiful merchandise–not to mention Ann’s story, which is truly awe-inspiring.

But don’t worry, there’s still more of me, me, me out there too. Deborah Kalb was kind enough to do a Q&A with me about my book; I find myself fascinating, but turns out her whole website is filled with interesting authors and historical factoids and other cool things.

This is a simple assignment folks-please keep up. The walkway is moving at the same speed as the ride of your life.

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Everyone Is An Idiot: Addendum

Posted on September 15, 2013 by Jill Foer Hirsch

Well, I’m going to throw in the towel now. Guess what? The meaning of literal has literally changed. Dan was a little too gleeful to share this with me soon after I posted my last entry.

http://www.cnn.com/2013/08/15/living/literally-definition/index.html

This is an abomination. First, the powers that be (and who are they exactly?) decide it’s just A-OK to end a sentence in a preposition. Now, simply because people either don’t know the correct meaning of a word, or refuse to use it correctly, we’re going to just say that what’s wrong is right. Dan says language is a living thing, constantly subject to change. I say there are rules, and regulations, and Oxford commas, and that’s the right way to do things. I learned all the rules a long, long time ago, and I have no plans to start all over again. Literally.

 

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Everyone Is An Idiot Except Me and She

Posted on September 15, 2013 by Jill Foer Hirsch

So one blog I really enjoy reading, for obvious reasons, is Is Everyone An Idiot But Me? It is admittedly annoying that someone came up with that before I had a chance, but I swear I was just about to do something like that right before this thought-stealing woman snatched it.

Anyway, I digress. In what can only be described as a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, I have a chance to spout off about an idiot or idiots and win a super valuable prize of some kind. It’s a Blog Hop.

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When I first saw the Blog Hop, I was thinking how my entire blog is about idiots-either myself or others. But this had to be something new, something inventive, something that can win me whatever it is that one wins for this kind of thing (does it really matter?). That’s when I remembered…

Language-Manglers. We all know them. Some of you might even be them. People who think they know a word, but either use it incorrectly, mispronounce it, invent a past tense, or make it up altogether. Here are some of my favorites, used in a sentence.

Incorrect:

Supposably: Supposably, he was working, but I think he was out with his friends. [Var. admittably]

Pregnant*: Are you pregnant?

Agreeance: We’re all in agreeance then.

Irregardless: Irregardless of what you do, I’m going to continue my education.

On Tomorrow: I am going to call you on tomorrow.

I*: Why don’t you come with Jane and I?

Me*: Jane and me are going to get ice cream.

Raisin Debt: My life’s work as a writer is my raisin debt.

Literally*: I was literally over the moon.

Half*: I half to go to work tomorrow (only correct if you are a Jewish man over the age of 80).

Itch*: I have to itch myself (acceptable usage south of the Mason-Dixon)

Misnomer*: I think everyone has a misnomer of what that really means.

Hypocritical*: Let me give you a hypocritical of how it might happen.

Humidified*: When I realized my skirt was tucked into my pantyhose, I was humidified.

Ironic*: It’s so ironic; I got a flat tire on the way to my wedding.

*These are real words, used incorrectly. But you knew that already…

Correct:

Supposedly: Supposedly, he was working, but I think he was out with his friends. [Var. admittedly]

Fat: No, I’m not pregnant, just fat.

Agreement: We’re all in agreement then.

Regardless: Regardless of what you do, I’m going to continue my education.

Tomorrow: I am going to call you tomorrow.

Me: Why don’t you come with Jane and me?

I: Jane and I are going to get ice cream.

Raison d’être: My life’s work as a writer is my raison d’être.

Figuratively: I was (figuratively) over the moon [figuratively is silent; it is literally implied]

Have: I have to go to work tomorrow.

Scratch: I have an itch so I need to scratch myself.

Misunderstanding: I think everyone has a misunderstanding of what that really means.

Hypothetical: Let me give you a hypothetical of how it might happen.

Humiliated: When I realized my skirt was tucked into my pantyhose, I was humiliated.

Unfortunate: It’s so unfortunate; I got a flat tire on the way to my wedding.

It’s misfortunate that so many people butcher the language, but hopefully my post will learn them something.

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