Wednesday, December 30, 2009


Today is Work Out Day, oh readers, and by Work Out Day, I mean it's the day that I pedal my bike while letting Dr. Oz scare the ever loving shit out of me about everything health related, and then attempt to lift weights in my Basement Torture Chamber of Doom. Then I shower and rejoice that I even got off my cushy computer chair in the first place. Then, typically, I lose whatever motivation I had, wander around picking up matchbox cars, and vacuum aimlessly....

Usually, on Work Out Day, I prolong having to face my agony (as well as the tivo'd Episodes of Dr. Oz's Health Terrors) by skipping merrily around the internet. I look at HIGHlarious pictures on People of WalMart (which hello, merry Christmas, I did not even KNOW was a website until my friend told me a few days ago!) and of course, I catch up on what the famous peeps are doing via Perez.

For instance, did you KNOW that it's now rumored that Tiger Woods has been all hidey-McHiderson NOT because he's a giGANtic ManWhore/Douche/Cheating Tool (who's judging!?) but because his tiny model blondey wife beat the SHIT out of his FACE with a golf club??? I know! I didn't know that EITHER until my bff Perez told me so. I suppose this is where a responsible, considerate blogger would tell you that Violence is Never the Answer, even if it's a 90 pounder doing the beating. I, however, am not responsible NOR considerate. Furthermore, I think that if a man beats a woman, she should get a Get Out of Jail Free card and a complimentary Sheet of Green Jell-O and/or a baseball bat.

I know, you're all asking me where I got my This is What a Feminist Looks Like shirt... of course, the shopping wonders of the internet!

I mean, did Tiges deserve to lose his cheekbone and/or teeth to a nine-iron? That seems harsh. A nice shot to the old golf balls might have been better. I know, stop the hilarity Sammo, it's just too much. Seriously. Anyone who calls Tiger's wife a gold-digger should know better... you don't take a golf club to a dude's FACE AND CAR if you're just out for money. That sort of anger only comes from betrayed love.

Hey, The Man, if you're reading this, I promise never to beat your face with a golf club. Then again, I can't promise not to take a hammer to your bike. But we both KNOW you'd NEVER do such a ManWhore/Douche/Tool type thing right? Right honey? (Rubs antifreeze jug lovingly with a glazed look and smile....)


Just goes to show you, it's not always the People of WalMart who snap!

Comments, questions, nine irons?