Go Ask Aunt Becky. And Bob Ross. But Not Jimmy Wales. Or Mark Zuckerberg.
Dear Aunt Becky,
I used to be a semi-balanced person who would get upset at stupid things but liked people pretty well. You know, normal. But since having a kid I have become a very cranky person, Aunt Becky. I get irritated when people don’t agree with me, even though I know people are allowed to have their own ideas. I’m insecure and taking everything way too personally, especially about how I raise my child. I find myself not even wanting to talk or write to people because I know I’m going to get annoyed by whatever responses I get, and that sucks since I really like talking and writing. How can I find my mojo again and stop being so damn sensitive?
Sincerely,
Tired of Defending My Opinions
So, there are two things I do when I get all IMMA CUT YOU MOTHERFUCKER over some stupid-ass Facebook status update or something. Okay, wait, I can’t count because there are three.
1) I log off Facebook because it’s about the stupidest thing on the planet (coming from someone who writes about herself on The Internet, that’s saying a lot). It’s also the one thing that’s bound to piss me the hell off. I mean, wait, you raise fake sheep in a fake farm and you’re judging me for my parenting choices? Hilarious. That’s Facebook for you. ANYWAY.
Since I’m probably fuming about Facebook and Jimmy Fucking Wales and fucking Mark Zuckerberg (Facebook founder)(now that John C. Mayer and I have finally resolved our fake fight)(John C. Mayer is now crying tears of relief again)(P.S. that was an awesome Prank, Pranksters): I do a couple of laps around the house.
Why? Because I’m all EYE OF THE FUCKING TIGER.
2) I yell “BITCH GIT ME CHICKEN.” Why? There’s no chicken. I hate chicken. Mostly, I yell it because it’s fucking hilarious and how can you take anything seriously if you yell that?
Then, I start laughing, because, really, I was mad at someone who FARMS FAKE CROPS. Um. There are so many layers of wrong there. And WOAH, that’s a whole lot of taking myself too seriously.
(you can, of course, remove any adjectives and replace them with yours. I don’t know that you’re mad at The Facebook. I just assume so because I usually am. Or Jimmy Fucking Wales. I hate that rat bastard)
3) This may be the most important and best part, because once you’ve let out some of that tension (running) and realized you’re taking someone who takes a quiz to determine which Disney Princess Describes Her Best while telling you that shopping at Target makes you a Satan worshiper too seriously; you need something to relax you.
There’s only ONE MAN for that job.
No, not vodka.
Oh yeah, that’s right. Happy little clouds. And BOB ROSS. Bob Motherfucking ROSS. You shut your whore mouth when Bob Ross is painting a happy motherfucking tree.
Now, if there’s anything better than listening to THAT GUY talk, I don’t know what it is. I don’t WANT to know what it is. I love Bob Ross. I love Bob Ross until it hurts. Bob Ross and his awesome happy little birds and and dude, the guy is so cheerful you just don’t know what to do. Bob Ross is calm. Bob Ross is awesome.
Bob Ross and his happy mountains will make you feel better. Even if you are like me and you have the artistic abilities of a thumb-less chimp living underwater.
Bob Ross will love me anyway.
Bob Ross loves you, too. And Bob Ross would never judge your parenting skills.
Jimmy Wales, however…
No, seriously, though, Jimmy Wales probably doesn’t hate you.
Probably.
Also, if you’re really feeling super-irritable and grumpy all the time, it could be a sign of something more like postpartum depression, which even Bob Ross doesn’t think is funny. So you should mention that to your doctor. Being irritable all the time isn’t totally normal unless you’re listening to John C. Mayer Justin Beaver.
Also also: you may never want to take my advice except for the part about talking to your doctor.
Because I am not someone who should give advice on something like this considering my archenemies are Jimmy Wales and Mark Zuckerberg (who, Pranksters, we NEED TO TAKE THE INTERNET AWAY FROM…SOMEHOW. JUST. I don’t know how).
————-
So, other Pranksters who are smarter than me and presumably have a smarter, better way to handle this stuff, HOW do you handle it?
Hilarious, Aunt Becky. Frickin’ high-larious. I forgot what I was laughing at midway through, but nonetheless, you are flippin’ funny. And I don’t even know who this Wales cat is.
You are now on my blogroll. Reciprocate?? Pretty please????
God, I hate groveling. But for you, I’ll make an exception.
Aunt becky, you do know bob ross is painting happy little trees in heaven and making god smile, right? Just making sure.
And I dont have any advice. Except: just hate everyone.
Aunt becky, you do know bob ross is painting happy little trees in heaven and making god smile, right? Just making sure.
And I dont have any advice. Except: just hate everyone.
NO! Bob Ross CANNOT BE DEAD. NOOOO! That is NOT FAIR!
I listen to a Justin Beaver/John Mayer callaboration while masturbating to Bob Ross with a bottle of vodka and reading Aunt Becky’s blog and Twitter, simultaneously playing Farmville of course.
I pride myself in taking the term “hate fucking” to a whole new level.
That’s about right. I think Mark Zuckerberg and I will be hate-fucking eventually. It’ll be awesome.
Can’t…even reply….laughing too hard!
OMG, AB, this is a fing mess but I am dying right now over the Bitch git me my chicken bit. Laughing so hard and annoying the heck out of my husband.
Oh this is a HOT mess of Mark Zuckerberg and awesome.
OMG, AB, this is a fing mess but I am dying right now over the Bitch git me my chicken bit. Laughing so hard and annoying the heck out of my husband.
I just love. Everyone… It doesn’t change much, but I’m not sure I could survive the alternative. I guess having “enemies” makes people funnier.
I just love. Everyone… It doesn’t change much, but I’m not sure I could survive the alternative. I guess having “enemies” makes people funnier.
It’s a pretty big call, but I’m pretty sure this is my favourite AB entry I ever saw. And I’ve seen a lot of Aunt Becky…
I too get the FB rage, and I think I can safely say that EVERYONE in my life will be cursing you for years to come because I plan on randomly yelling out “Bitch git me chicken!” at least six times a day for I too believe this will solve all my problems. Thankyou 😉
I’m so in on any plan you have to rid the internets of Mark Zuckerberg. If you find a way…I’m in.
Mark Zuckerberg and Jimmy Wales WILL be making way for an Army of Pranksters who will not NEARLY be as self-important or as obnoxious. That’s the end.
Also, BITCH GIT ME CHICKEN is the cure-all for all feeling bad because of Mark Zuckerberg or crappy emails. Because hollering that and running around for a couple of minutes really DOES help.
I’m not sure I handle depression. Seems I was in it for a long time and had no clue until after I was OUT (is that right?) of it. I’m still having some problems dealing with the feelings, but I’m feeling better about life. I do FB but I don’t do the alternate reality games. No.1, they’re a JOB and, No.2, life’s too short. But, it is great to keep up with nieces and nephews far-flung across the country…
Oh The Facebook is fine and I have no ACTUAL issues with it. I joke about it, but I don’t really want to punch it OR Mark Zuckerberg. (lie)
It’s easy to be mired in the depression without realizing how bad it is. Like you, I don’t see it until I’m betterish.
Prankster – definitely talk to your doctor. I got to the point where every.single.thing. my husband did made me consider getting a knife and it took me weeks to figure out it was ME not him. It’s very fixable and may not require long term treatment either.
Becky – I love you. Someday Jimmy F. Wales is going to show up at your house, you’ll open the door and yell, “I’mma EYE OF THE TIGER JIMMY WALES” and slam the door in his face.
Mark Zuckerberg is gonna find me at some party and be all, “IMMA HAVE HATE SEX WITH YOU,” and I’m going to be all, “I’m here with Tom from Myspace.”
Bob MF Ross was the best. So much so that, once upon a time when the Husband was still just The Boyfriend, he decided that *we* could paint following Bob’s system and bought us each a Bob Ross Painting kit. (Please note we were young, broke and living in upstate NY where winter is like 8 months long.). We spent an afternoon following Bob’s instructions. It was hella fun. At the end, my beloved had quite the passable painting: a lake surrounded by happy little trees with a mountain rising gloriously behind it into a happy blue sky dotted with happy little clouds.
Mine? Well, I always knew I lacked The Artistic Ability, but oh my. My finished product resembled nothing more than a large hunk of moldy, gray cheese smoldering over a blue plate of lettuce. I was beyond Bob’s “happy little accidents” but still, it was fun. Also hilarious.
For years after we began cohabitating, I hung the 2 paintings on the wall, side by side.
Which has nothing to do with Go Ask AB, but then I’m not AB so I guess I’m off the hook there. For the record and in conclusion, I’m also not Bob Ross, no matter how much my morning bedhead resembles his happy hair.
BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! That is SO AWESOMELY AWESOME. I spent the time that I wrote this thinking, “I NEED TO BUY THE BOB ROSS SYSTEM NOW” because that would be something I’d do. And it would look like I’d barfed on the plate NO MATTER WHAT I did.
Bob Ross, well, I can’t paint like him. But I can listen to him talk. Unlike Jimmy Wales and freaking Mark Zuckerberg.
Bob MF Ross was the best. So much so that, once upon a time when the Husband was still just The Boyfriend, he decided that *we* could paint following Bob’s system and bought us each a Bob Ross Painting kit. (Please note we were young, broke and living in upstate NY where winter is like 8 months long.). We spent an afternoon following Bob’s instructions. It was hella fun. At the end, my beloved had quite the passable painting: a lake surrounded by happy little trees with a mountain rising gloriously behind it into a happy blue sky dotted with happy little clouds.
Mine? Well, I always knew I lacked The Artistic Ability, but oh my. My finished product resembled nothing more than a large hunk of moldy, gray cheese smoldering over a blue plate of lettuce. I was beyond Bob’s “happy little accidents” but still, it was fun. Also hilarious.
For years after we began cohabitating, I hung the 2 paintings on the wall, side by side.
Which has nothing to do with Go Ask AB, but then I’m not AB so I guess I’m off the hook there. For the record and in conclusion, I’m also not Bob Ross, no matter how much my morning bedhead resembles his happy hair.
I remember feeling like this when my first child was born. It was hard, especially since she was born with some physical issues. So I did what any self-respecting mother does when she’s had enough: I isolated myself. And that was not such a good thing. Then it became hard to determine what cane first: did ihave PPD or was I depressed because I was isolated.
I finally went to see a therapist, and she was instrumental in getting my life and perspective on track. And for me, it worked. By the time #2 came along I wasn’t so defensive and irritable. I found it almost comical the things that people would say.
Hang in there!
I remember feeling like this when my first child was born. It was hard, especially since she was born with some physical issues. So I did what any self-respecting mother does when she’s had enough: I isolated myself. And that was not such a good thing. Then it became hard to determine what cane first: did ihave PPD or was I depressed because I was isolated.
I finally went to see a therapist, and she was instrumental in getting my life and perspective on track. And for me, it worked. By the time #2 came along I wasn’t so defensive and irritable. I found it almost comical the things that people would say.
Hang in there!
Parenthood is really, really hard. Much harder than anyone, including Mark Zuckerberg, would give credit to. Getting yourself out there, getting the PPD taken care of at a time when someone else has to come first (and not Mark Zuckerberg), that’s tricky shit.
Glad you got it together, dude. Depression, PPD, all those, they suck. Almost as badly as The Facebook.
I should also mention that I have PMPD which is super bad PMS. I take celexa for the week before my period. That helps me keep things in check for that week and I don’t spend the other 3 weeks feeling guilty about my outbursts.
I should also mention that I have PMPD which is super bad PMS. I take celexa for the week before my period. That helps me keep things in check for that week and I don’t spend the other 3 weeks feeling guilty about my outbursts.
Bob Ross > Chuck Norris.
Oh fuck yeah. Bob motherfucking Ross is as awesomely equal to Billy Motherfucking Mays.
Mark Zuckerberg, however, is a douchebag.
I seriously laughed so hard at this one I cried. Especially the Bitch Git Me Some Chicken. My husband and Children think I am now further insane. But damn you make me laugh. And sadly I used to be a Facebook Zombie I still kind of am minus the Farming and quizing. Grilled Cheesus help me. I love you Aunt Becky you made my Sun. HIGHliarious!!
Now Prankster I agree with Aunt Becky I don’t know how old your baby is but it sounds a little bit postpartum there. Or even just depression there. I amazingly didn’t get PPD but I have all the other depression and I get all bitchy when people don’t see eye to eye with me at times. It also has something to do with my OCD I must control evey thing, so if people don’t agree my OCD says awww HALL NAW and I get all up in their grill until I realize now Kristin you’re being totally irrational. So talking to you’re doctor might not be the wort thing in the world to do. It can’t hurt. Because you need to be able to talk to people and write again. And most of all you need to be happy. Because as they say “If Mama Ain’t Happy Ain’t No One Happy.”
Kristin, thinking of you going ALLL HALL NAWWWWWWW is making me giggle. Not, however, Mark Zuckerberg, who makes me want to cry. But I can TOTALLY see you being all BITCH (Mark Zuckerberg) GIT ME CHICKEN when your OCD is acting up.
I can’t help it when my OCD acts up I get all Ricki Lake and Jerry Springer audience. Cause Bitches better be seeing things my way.
Mark Zuckerberg also makes me want to cry as well. But I would Totally be all BITCH (Mark Zuckerberg) GIT ME CHICKEN and then deposit half your fortune in my bank account and shut your whore mouth!!
A sad little part of me, whenever something internet related, likes to pretend it’s because Mark Zuckerberg has a personal grudge against me. He’s like, the perfect scapegoat.
Mark Zuckerberg sunk the Titanic.
Mark Zuckerberg is the reason for the BP oil spill.
Mark Zuckerberg makes baby jesus cry.
Mark Zuckerberg is to suck as Chuck Norris is to kick ass.
Yes. Exactly. Mark Zuckerberg is the ideal scapegoat because he’s such a douchebag.
Mark Zuckerberg is an asshole who should immediately be John C. Mayered. Because to John C. Mayer Mark Zuckerberg? Would be DAMN NEAR IMPOSSIBLE. I do not think I could ever beat someone like Mark Zuckerberg who ALSO lives on The Internet at his own game.
I was an irritable, Furious George type after I went back on the regular Birth Control Pill after I had my son. I was enraged all the time….like I had INSANE PMS 24 hours a day. Took a huge toll on my marriage, and I could not understand why I was so angry all the time. Prior to having son- PMS was very rare for me. Put 2 + 2 together, got off the pill and All Is Quiet On The Western Front now. Talk to your Doc ASAP!
Yeah, that’s a good point, too. I remember that feeling of being on the wrong OCP. I was Furious George at the air for daring to blow on me. And I can’t imagine if I’d had the Internet to deal with.
Just read these two books and you’ll have ALL the answers!
Harold and the Purple Crayon and
The Phantom Tollbooth
At that point you won’t care about all the bullshit advice you get.
Just saying…
“Oh yeah, that’s right. Happy little clouds. And BOB ROSS. Bob Motherfucking ROSS. You shut your whore mouth when Bob Ross is painting a happy motherfucking tree.” oh my fucking god I am laughing so hard I am going to poop. Excellent, excellent, excellent.
See? Bob Ross makes it all better. Bob Ross and his happy fucking clouds.
Also, thank you. If I can make you poo, it’s a good day, indeed. Normally I can just make babies poo.
Love your blog AB. But I feel compelled to ask, for someone who claims to hate Mark Zuckerberg – founder of the book of face – why then do you contribute to his continued success by including that little blue button with the white ‘f’ on it your page? You know … over there —->
That is a GOOD question. Because I DO hate The Facebook very, very much. But the rest of the world does not, so I try and be all, OKAY WORLD, IMMA BE OKAY WITH The Facebook.
SIGHS.
Stupid Zuckerberg. Tom from Myspace is totally on my side.
Meds, people. Meds. I had no idea that yelling curse words throughout the day was a sign of depression – any kind of depression. Um … sorry, Aunt Becky. I curse vicariously through you. Kinda like a ventriloquist. ‘Cept I don’t have my hand up your ass. Thank God.
Ahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahah. I just snarffed coffee.
Ahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahah. I just snarffed coffee.
“I was mad at someone who FARMS FAKE CROPS. Um. There are so many layers of wrong there.”
This really puts things in proper perspective. The next time someone posts one of those, “Copy and paste this in your status or else you are an unamerican, troop-hating bastard and god will repay you for your evil ways,” or the like, I will remember that they probably just lost their pretend oranges to a virtual canker outbreak.
Bitch, git me chicken! And turn on PBS! Feels good.
Aunt Becky, you have confirmed something I have believed for quite some time now. Bob Ross is magical.
When I get a migraine, I usually want to lie still in a quiet, dark room and listen to nothing louder than my heartbeat and breathing (have you ever realized how LOUD your breathing and heartbeat are?!). Then I found Bob Ross. The soothing voice, the happy trees…they lull you to a happy place where heartbeats are not threatening to make your head explode. He’s amazing and best of all you don’t need to get a prescription to watch him.
Don’t get me wrong, I still take my meds because while he’s good, he ain’t THAT good.
All parents get defensive of their parenting, especially when other parents are so smug and self-assured, and the normal parents are all “HOW THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO RAISE THIS KID?”
Ignore the parents who have all the answers…they are lying.
Also, “Bitch, git me chicken”???? That is amazing. Say that to EVERYONE….they’ll eventually leave you alone.
Absolutely hilarious!! Not a fan of facebook either. It’s creepy. LOVE BOB ROSS! I also agree with your suggestion to the new mama to see her doctor and determine what’s going on. Sounds like depression to me. Been there done that. Good luck. I heart the: BITCH GIT ME CHICKEN!!
I had no idea who Bob Ross was until I watched that glorious, glorious video.
Then I showed my fiance the video and he was like, “Yeah, he was awesome.”
Me: Was?
Him: Yeah. He’s dead.
Me: . . . .
Him: What? He is.
Me: . . . .Shut your whore mouth and GIT ME CHICKEN, BITCH!
Him: . . .You’re reading Aunt Becky again, aren’t you?
Swear to God, that’s how it went down.
Dude, I wrote about this a few months ago, and I am totally on to something and so will take FULL CREDIT when it becomes obvious to the rest of the world. Mark Zuckerberg is a raging psychosociopath and is plotting to take over the world. And I’m SERIOUS, not kidding, and I know this because I watched his interview on 60 Minutes and it is clear that this man’s face DOES NOT MOVE which is the true sign of a psychosociopath or at least the creepiest loser ever. With a hundred billion dollars. Everyone was all like “no, I love Facebook, he’s not a bad guy,” and I said YOU MARK MY WORDS. YOU MARK THEM. So there.
Oh, and for the Prankster with the anger? Get on the train with the rest of us, sweet pea. I did suffer from PPD but I also think having a child (and I have two now) totally wipes out one’s ability to put up with all the other bullshit in the world. So give yourself some slack. You’re allowed to not want to listen to the idiots anymore, you have another human being to raise now. And call your doctor.
I don’t see where this person said how long she’s been like this. If it’s been a period of months, yes. Please see someone. Take it from me, a woman who has pretty much isolated herself over a period of years and now totally regrets it. Guess what? People move on and it’s hard to get un-isolated. At first being alone feels like a huge relief, but then it doesn’t anymore. And like I said, getting out of established isolation is not easy.
I LOVE Bob Ross and just found the best of on one of my digital cable stations! How could anyone be angry listening to him?? Love you, too, Aunt Becky.
I think I know a way to take the internet away from Mark Zuckerberg and the outlaw Jimmy Wales.
There should be a website where you see two pictures of “important” people on the internet and you pick which you like better. “I like the idea of comparing two people together. It gives the whole thing a very ‘Turing’ feel since people’s ratings of the pictures will be more implicit, than say, choosing a number to represent each person’s hotness like they do on hotornot.com.” I found that searching “Social Network quotes.”
Only every time you see the faces of Zuckerberg or Wales, even if the user picks their face, the system always records them as the loser.
And you, Aunt Becky, the system will always record you as a winner.
Tired – I don’t think we take into account just how much changes when the first kid pops out. Pre-kid, we build our identity on things like our job, our social life, hobbies, relationships and our body.
Depending on your circumstances, most or all of that has changed. Just say you had a debilitating illness that meant you couldn’t work, hang out with your friends, do your hobbies, go on date nights with your husband etc – nobody would blame you if you got a bit pissed off sometimes. Hell, they’d be worried if you didn’t.
Obviously, a kid is not a debilitating illness. But somewhere between ‘Congratulations’ and ‘Is THAT how you’re raising your kid?’ is the notion that a good mother sacrifices everything for her kids, and is HAPPY about it.
Fuck that. I know your kid is just the most awesome thing in your world, but there were some pretty awesome things about your life before they came along, and you’re not a bad mother if you feel a bit bummed about putting all that on hold. Or if you’re not feeling thrilled with the idea that ‘Mom’ is all you are now.
My guess (purely a guess!) is that some of your sensitivity comes from not being entirely sure of your identity. You know, beyond ‘Mom’.
My advice? Talk to a doctor, you know, just to check it’s not hormones or PND. Then cut yourself some slack. Find a carer for the rug-monkey for a couple of hours a week and spend that time doing something you used to. Play sport, study, paint, have a date night, lie in the bath and watch bad reality TV. Recognise that the woman you were before you became ‘Mommy’ is not Someone Else who should be forgotten, but the foundation of ‘Mommy’, and needs a little attention sometimes.
Totally off the subject, but you have an award over at my place.
I even have a Happy Trees shirt for such occasions. Some days, you just NEED some damn happy trees.
I just wanted to say I agree with talking to your doctor. I had the rage for years and I just thought I was a bitch. But I take my happy pills now and the rage is gone. I didn’t get the help I needed until I had ppd and was to the point that I couldn’t even stand to be around my own children. I was having panic attacks whenever I tried to leave the house. I had isolated myself so much that I didn’t leave the house for over a month and was either yelling at my family or seething with anger all the time. Not good.
Please talk to your doctor. There is a balance where you can just blow off things that irritate you instead of spiraling to out of control anger.
I am almost certain that Bob Ross used to have a little pet squirrel that would hang out in his breast pocked while he painted. Which means that he was either some sort of saint or, possibly, a wizard.
Either way he’s clearly a hero for all time.
[…] This post was mentioned on Twitter by Aunt Becky, Mike Altshuler. Mike Altshuler said: Why I love @mommywantsvodka 2) I yell “BITCH GIT ME CHICKEN.” Why? There’s no chicken. I hate chicken… http://bit.ly/dI9G16 […]
Your crazy shit made my day.
I just have to say thank you to all the moms who commented on this post about ppd, depression, anxiety and just being a mean ass hole all the time. I had and still have all these symptoms and it took forever for me to get it under control. I would go to my dr. but I was so embarrassed and ashamed I would totally downplay my situation. I felt so bad for my family. Finally things are more under control after finding the right antidepressant and changing my birth control. (downside is my libido tanked, totally). It really does help to know I’m not the only mom who turned into a raging, hormonal, monster (me, not calling any of you a monster, just how totally bitchy and out of control my emotions were) after having children. I’m not a terrible mom after all. I love my children and I do deserve them. Thank you for speaking up. It is extremly difficult to speak so candidly about it, there is way to much pressure on moms to be perfect. Love you all!
I used to hate Mark Zukerberg, but then I saw Aaron Sorkin’s Mark Zukerberg and I LOVE Aaron Sorkin so anyone who has ever interacted with him, even in a fake, impersonation way can no longer be evil in my book. Basically, what this woman needs is to find someone she loves – like Big Bird. Then stalk and find Big Bird and kidnap him (her? weirdly I’m unsure of Big Bird’s gender) and take him to the home of the people she hates and make them play together. Then she’ll find that just by hanging out with Big Bird they become awesome.
Or that’s a horrible plan.
Sometimes I can’t tell.
I cannot think of anything more relaxing than getting oral sex from Bob Ross while Bob Ross is simultaneously working on a black-velvet painting of a bubbling mountain brook.
Bob Ross. He was a god. I’d give anything to have the magical painter of happy-trees back on the air. And secondly, I usually link shit on my site to Wikipedia – until I realized that Jimmy “Creepy” Wales” wasn’t going away over there. But be careful Becky, that kind of power is something to take caution over. My suggestion is to get massive amounts of people to change Jimmy Wales’ wikipedia page (a page about him) and fill it with fictional information. From there, people would just have to be committed to keeping it that way. I think Stephen Colbert did something like this; he had all his viewers go change and maintain a page about elephants and filled it with nonsensical information. WoooT! The irony, to do this to the founder of Wikipedia? Huh?
This post is WHY I LOVE YOU. I can’t even describe how much my 31 week pregnant gut hurts from laughing. I may have to share this on my FaceBook. -Loretta
I divorced FB when I realized it was primarily populated by the overtly pious and folks who felt the need to build tool sheds on their imaginary farms while whining about all the work they weren’t getting done in the real world. Shortly before leaving I designed a shirt with the slogan, “My Imaginary Bank Foreclosed on My FarmVille” and believe it or not, I got actual hate mail from farmers. How dare anyone criticize their hobbies?
An inbox full of gifted unicorns, hearts, flowers, and kittens later I jumped through the hoops to close my account. My actual divorce was easier to obtain than dumping FB, and we had two kids to argue over.
A week ago I reactivated my account to promote my blog. It’s exactly as I left it, only even less tolerant of progressive political opinions.
heavy sigh…
For what it’s worth, I loved Bob Ross’s happy little trees and clouds. And the brillo pad hair. A friend told me Ross didn’t wear seat belts, he just had velcro on the headrest…
Of course, he was the same friend who used the Knights Who Say “NEE!” defense instead of yelling Bitch Get Me Chicken. He would actually shout out “NEE!”, very loudly, in public, whenever someone was being an obvious douche or acting authoritarian. It had a remarkable effect… widened eyes, the sudden look of fear and trepidation you see when someone realizes they’re fucking with the wrong person. And he’d just smile while he did it, and get louder.
Highly recommend that form of self defense next time you’re in a douchey situation. Or yell for chicken, which I’m going to try the next time it happens to me.
You’re a funny woman! The world could use a few more of you…
I have no sage advice. I can share that I had similar feelings when I was in a death spiral of depression and anxiety and it wasn’t until I finally said something at a doctor’s appointment that I got my shit together.
What I wanted to point out is this…..perhaps Bob Ross was so happy because of the wicked, coke-snorting fingernail he had on the pinky finger of his painting hand. Did you see that fucker?? It’s like a shovel! Couple that with the white man’s ‘fro and the awesome white belt, the decade in which he filmed his show, and, well, you can connect the dots (or make the 500 branches that “everyone knows” are on a pine tree. WTF was THAT??? LMAO!).
OK, for my friends that I just sent here. This is not me, even though our names are spelled the same.
I loved Bob and agree he had quite a long pinky nail. Brought me back to going to the Brothers Club and wondering what the Hell they were all doing with long pinky nails when I had a $20 bill in my pocket.
And I never had a death spiral of depression, I solved that with occasional depression-solving Dexter’s. Oh this world is too damn small!
Was having a crap day. Searching aweful google for a way to buy a bob ross print and found this. Laughed till I peed. I will be making mini motivational posters for my cubicle "Shut your whore mouth when Bob Ross is painting…'