Sharks are just Misunderstood

     No they're not.  Shut up.  I'm tired of coming across "shark specials" on TV, and they try to convince me that we need to stop thinking of sharks as being big scary monsters who want to eat us.  We're supposed to co-exist peacefully or some non-sense like that.
     Newsflash: I co-exist perfectly peacefully with sharks.  Why? Because I stay out of their friggin' way.  That's why.  Who are these people they get for interviews on these shark shows?  They say things like, "I was training for a triathlon and swimming 2 miles every day in the ocean.  I just never thought a shark would attack me."  Puh-lease.  Sharks don't waltz up with a high-five, and say, "Keep it up, sport!"  They bite your arm off.  How many times do we have to go through this?
     Then, that same interviewee courageously informs the viewers that he does not blame the shark for what happened and that he CONTINUES to swim in the same area because he's not going to let one missing limb get him down.  Know what?  I don't blame the shark, either.  I blame YOU, sir, who swims in shark infested waters.  Idiot.
     Obviously, not everyone is of the same mind as I am on these matters.  If they were, these TV shows about sharks would not be so prevalent.  So here's what I'm gonna say to all the shark-lovers out there:  next time you go frolic with Jaws, don't come looking to me for a big hug because you got bit.  Besides, it'll be difficult to hug you with both your arms missing!

I'm Sorry I Burned Your Retina

     If you're like me, you have tried to achieve a spectacular golden tan at some point in your life.  I've worshipped the sun, I've sweat it out in the tanning salon, I've slathered on the self-tanner, and I've been straight up painted from head to toe with spray-on tanner.  Maybe I became older and wiser, but I finally decided the non-skin cancer options were preferable to the UVA / UVB tanning methods.  And then I became a self-proclaimed responsible adult who realized there's not much time to achieve any kind of tan when you're changing your kid's diapers, wearing dried scrambled eggs that said kid refused during breakfast, and reading Good Night, Moon fourteen times per day.
     So what's a girl to do who wants a little golden glow?  Buy some shimmery lotion that promises a radiant glow.  That's what!  You know, the stuff that has little reflective specs in it, so you can shine, shine, shine like the stars?  You have to apply lotion routinely, anyway, so why not channel your inner Eva Longoria and add some extra golden glitter to your day? 
     I'll tell you why not.  Because if you're as desperately in need of a tan as I am, you're probably a pale white person like I am.  And if your skin alone can blind people when the sun reflects off it, then your skin, IN ADDITION to shimmery, shiny lotion, could cause permanent vision loss.  It's like an exponential reflective effect.  If you ask me, they should be required to put a warning label on these super-shiny, glittery lotions:  "Not for white people."  But since no warning label exists, let me serve as your warning label.
     I'm not proud that I've made mistakes, but if my mistakes can be made more meaningful by saving someone from making the same mistake, then I'll take the fall.  In the meantime, to anyone who witnessed me in all my glowing white glory, all I can say is, "I'm sorry I burned your retina." 

It's Fall Again: Colorful Leaves, Pumpkin Spice Lattes, and Super Skanky Halloween Costumes

You know what I'm talking about.  You waltz into the Halloween "Boo-tique" thinking you might just find the perfect costume.  And just like last year, your options are the scantily clad Indian princess, the cleavage-for-all Lady Liberty, and the slutty nun in fishnet stockings.  Every costume requires washboard abs, D-size cups, and no inhibitions.  Unfortunately, most of us have washboard abs under an inconvenient fat roll that somehow popped up after that first kid came along, and if we ever did have a well-endowed bust, it traveled south with that same kid... or just with age.  
So you approach your only source of help:  "Excuse me, Mr. Seasonal-Halloween-Store-Worker-with-the-Black-Eyeliner-and-Strange-Hair, would you direct me to the frumpy mom costume aisle?"
Per usual, such aisle does not exist.  So those of us upon whom the Playboy gods did not bestow their blessing resort to the usual home-made costume.  Cue options:  a large trash bag with aluminum cans glued to it, a giant plastic gift sack with a bow strategically placed over our least favorite bodily feature, or a a giant sheet with holes for eyes.  Do you also sense a no-figure-is-necessary trend?
Let's not leave this train of thought feeling sour, though.  You may have to witness your annoying co-worker looking hotter than Carmen Electra in an itsy bitsy Santa's Slutty Helper costume, but ladies.... time is on our side.  Because no woman's body has ever resisted the battle against gravity.  And while Naughty Nurse is fighting a losing battle, you and I are gorging ourselves on delectable Halloween treats!