There’s a website in my RSS feed called FML. It’s basically a place where people go and share unfortunate stories about their lives, relationships, work, love and so on.
The posts range from the innocent (“Today, I decided to make pancakes from scratch. I poured the batter in my Perfect Pancake pan. Then I told my brother who was watching, ‘This is so easy. Just watch.’ I burned 15 pancakes, including the one I dropped on the burner, which lit on fire, causing the alarm to go off. FML“) to the creepy or uncomfortable (“Today, I found my long lost diary and curiously read it. What’s worse than finding out that your mother read your diary? Finding out that your mother wrote comments in it. FML) to really gross stuff that I don’t want to remember.
FML stands for fuck my life and people get to rate your story to say either “you deserved this” or “you’re right, your life is fucked”. Very democratic, right?
I usually go there when I feel down or tired and want to read about other people’s – usually bigger – misfortune. The entries are usually really, really funny and after reading 20 or so in a row I forget about whatever was bothering me.
Yesterday, after a particularly difficult day, I went to the site to read some funny little short stories and I got this:
“Today, Michael Jackson died. FML”.
I just need some good news. Soon.
Posted: June 26th, 2009
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I’m reading this blog post about a guy who went to lunch and, as he was about to start eating, a HAWK flew in and set on his plate.
I know this is very random but I just found it funny and a little bit disturbing.
Oh, the place is in New York and it’s called Birdies. Now, granted, based on that picture this is a bird-oh not a birdie but, still, pretty damn funny.
You think it’s real? Urban myth? Snopes anyone?
Posted: June 19th, 2009
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Cookie, like every dog that I’ve ever met, loves to be outside. She loves to chase and fetch a tennis ball and tries to dart out the front door every time she sees an opening.
This weekend was no exception. Right after I took this picture of her (was testing my new lens), I stepped outside to see what else I can photograph. But because I knew I wouldn’t be able to watch her, I sort of slammed the door in Cookie’s face and proceeded to walk around the house, camera in hand.
A few minutes later, I wanted to go back in to download my pics and I found that the door was locked. By my dog.
She probably tried to get out and follow me and jumped on the door and somehow hit the deadbolt thus locking me and my husband out with no key and no way to get back inside.
Adding insult to injury, she was still jumping up and down and barking at us and acting extremely flustered and angry for being left inside while we were watching her through the little window and trying to coax her into undoing what she just did. But that is probably next week’s lesson (week 1: learn to lock the door. Week 2: learn to unlock the door) so all we had was a very confused dog.
We were eventually rescued by someone who had one of our keys but the conclusion is this: beware of your dog. He/she may act like an innocent little puppy but they’ve been taking lessons in locking you out of your house while you weren’t looking.
Posted: June 16th, 2009
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Today the news that Chastity Bono is planning on having a sex change operation was trending really high on Twitter. And on other blogs such as TMZ http://www.tmz.com/2009/06/11/chastity-bono-becoming-a-man/
You think it was the name? I mean I can see how if your name is Chastity you might want to do something about it but a sex change operation seems a bit extreme.
I do wish her all the best.
Posted: June 11th, 2009
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I’m not kidding.
This was in my spam today. The title was “Free Botox” so I HAD to open it. You see, us gals react to that faster than we do to “enlarge your penis” emails. Yes, I get those too. They’re probably confused or think that I am.
Anyway, I see this email and I click on it and I’m still not sure if this is funny, sad, outrageous or all the above.
Let’s just go line by line here: the email says free botox to the first 50 unemployed people who show on such and such day at their office. OK? So, this event (you can click on the picture to see the details) is for men and women who are probably at least in their thirties, have no job and no money (presumably) but are really, really worried about wrinkles and frown lines.
I would assume that if you’re unemployed you have better things to worry about than wrinkles, no? Unless you are, say, Kate Moss and the reason for your unemployment is that you’ve done too much coke to be able to hide your lines (see the pun there?) anymore.
I’m trying to imagine the entire process here. Notice that you have to PROVE that you are unemployed before they can give you the Botox.
You walk in: “Hello.” “Hello miss/mister/madam, etc.” “I’m here for the free Botox.” “Oh, that’s wonderful. May I see your unemployment check?” “Oh, of course, here it is”. “Thank you ever so much. Do you also happen to have your termination letter?” “Sure, here you go.” “Thanks again, I really appreciate it. I see that you have been let go because of chronic lateness. Very sorry to hear that. Now please have a seat and prepare to be poked with painful needles in your face and injected with a bunch of poison” “Yay!”
Posted: June 4th, 2009
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Today at work we were talking about our dream job – if money wasn’t an issue, what would you be? What would you do? What is your dream job?
Mae said she always wanted to be a waitress – meet people, bring them food, talk to them and that she was hoping that one day she would be able to do it. This sounds odd because I thought waitressing is what you do if you CAN’T get a job but apparently there are specific requirements that need to be met in order for one to be hired at, say, Outback. They will (allegedly) not hire anyone without previous waitressing experience and there is a thorough vetting process. Allegedly. (not from what I’ve seen at Outback but, hey…)
I don’t think that means that you have to have a college degree to do it but, in the words of our friend London: what do you do if you need to make change for ten different people? That’s right folks: I do not qualify to be a waitress and simple math is only part of the problem.
Cristina said her dream job was bookbinding. Not sure why – she just always dreamt about binding books which sounds kind of boring and repetitive but then maybe that’s what she’s looking for. Who’s to say that putting together pages after pages, lining them up and making them into a book can’t be absolutely fulfilling and blissful?
I thought the best one of them was London who said that she wanted to be the person that names the OPI nail polish shades. You see, in case you haven’t noticed, OPI doesn’t call their nail polish “red” or “off-white” or “sparkling pink”. Noooo, that would be too easy. They call their shades “Privacy, please” or “Saint Petersburgundy” or “I’m a princess” and stuff like that. (pop quiz for connaisseurs: which one of these three did I make up?).
Anyways, I thought that was brilliant: a creative job that doesn’t require much effort (after all, these names have to be short enough to fit on the bottom of a nail polish bottle) and has an impact. Everyone in every respectable nail salon in the Western world will have to say the name that you invented. You get to work in the cosmetics industry – a girl’s dream – and you get to change your nail polish daily or even more often if you want to. What more could you want?
My dream job is being a studio geek/sound engineer/music producer. Because I love music and I especially like the creative process – before it ever gets in front of people on a stage, before it gets on the radio, before it goes in the stores, it has to be arranged, recorded, mixed and mastered. It is a tedious and at times boring job but I would love to do it. I can see myself live in that studio for days and only come out for food if it’s too late for the corner pizza joint to deliver.
I’ve been recording as a singer since I was five and the big recording studio that we would go to always fascinated me. With it’s soundproofing it was very quiet yet the sounds would get through. I loved the way it smelled and it always made me feel like I was in a very important place – the place where they make the music.
So maybe someday, when money isn’t an issue I can go back to school and learn how to be a sound engineer…
What is your dream job? Are you already doing it?
Posted: June 2nd, 2009
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