Showing posts with label rant. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rant. Show all posts

Monday, October 17, 2011

Miller Shyte

Let me just start out by saying that, as many of you know, my life-long dream is to be a housewife. I want my husband to make more money than me. I want him to be able to fix shit and carry things. I want to make sure dinner is on the table at 5 and impress people at cocktail parties. And most of all, I don't want to have a job.  That said, Miller Lite commercials are so fucking sexist I want to vomit all over my television every time I see one.





Their entire marketing campaign is based on the idea that Miller Lite is a "manly" beer.  Miller Lite? Really? I don't think so. In my opinion, no light beer is a manly beer. But more importantly, Miller Lite tastes like piss. PISS. If a guy ever buys me a Miller Lite, he can shit any possibility of going home with me right down the damn drain.


But why are you even listening to my opinion? I'm a female and therefore know nothing about beer.  And as Miller will tell you, I don't even care about taste!  In fact, I should really only be drinking this:

www.chickbeer.com

Because I gotta watch my figure, too. And the only way a girl can do that is by drinking absolute shit beer (at only 97 calories!) in a tacky bottle.  But, wait.  If that's the case, then shouldn't Miller Lite really be advertising to me? 


Friday, October 14, 2011

You can't just ask people why they're white. Or fat.


There are few things I hate more than when someone comments on what I'm eating. Unless it's one of my home-made baked goods and you want to tell me that I'm amazing for having created it, shut the fuck up. 

Is butter a carb?

During the winter, there is an influx of geriatrics in my building who are taking post-retirement enrichment courses. One day, as I was heating up a Lean Cuisine, this old bitch walked by me and said, "Oo, that smells fattening."  
First of all, I don't really ever want anyone over the age of 65 to talk to me; and second of all, it was a lean cuisine.


I constantly hear women at work making comments about what other people are eating. Mostly what I'm eating. For some reason everyone here is really concerned about my weight. Once, when I was taking a Hershey Kiss out of a community candy bowl, someone told me, "You shouldn't be eating that." Excuse me? You shouldn't be eating that bacon, egg, and cheese you order every morning. I see you, girl. It's not a secret. But I don't say anything to you about it because a) I don't give a shit about your weight and b) that is something only an asshole would do, asshole. 


If you ever took Psych 101, you would know that what I've just described is called psychological projection, which according to Wikipedia (the most trusted source on the Internet) is a "defense mechanism where a person subconsciously denies his or her own attributes, thoughts, and emotions, which are then ascribed to the outside world, usually to other people." In other words, you're fat, so you want me to feel fat. Thanks, that's kind of you. However, didn't you listen to Cady Heron? Calling somebody else fat won't make you any skinnier. A treadmill might, though.