Actual pitch I just received from a marketer:
We’re fans of your blog, and we especially love your realistic perspective and experience with beauty products. We’re hoping you might be interested in trying our latest skincare discovery and reviewing it on your blog. In only 14 days, you’ll see a significant improvement in the texture and tone of your skin and a decrease in the appearance of wrinkles. If you want to try it and review it on your website, please e-mail us with your full name and address.
We look forward to hearing from you,
Debra
It seemed fairly obvious that Debra hadn’t read my blog at all but I thought I’d just check to give them the benefit of the doubt. My response:
Thanks! As you probably know from my blog, I’m only 16 so I don’t really need wrinkle cream but does it work on babies? Because my daughter has all these wrinkles on her legs and arms and it would be great if I could smooth them out.
PS. My mom said the wrinkles are “fat rolls” and that wrinkle cream won’t work. Do you have any products that removes fat rolls from babies?
Her response came quickly:
Hi there,
Thanks for writing back. We don’t make products for the issue you mentioned.
Have a great weekend,
Debra
And then all bets were off:
I understand. It’s almost impossible to find any products to make your baby less wrinkly. God knows I’ve tried. It does seem, however, like an open market so maybe you guys should look into making something like that. It should make babies less fat and wrinkly and also maybe…glittery? Vampire babies are totally hot right now so I bet you’d sell a shitload of that stuff. But call it something really descriptive because I refuse to put baby powder on my baby because I I suspect that it’s powder made from babies.
PS. My mom says that baby powder is powder for babies but I just pointed out that babies smell good and baby powder smells good and therefore baby powder is probably made from powdered babies. That’s why they’re so vague in the name…so that you don’t know if it’s made from babies or not. I’m just saying, descriptions matter.
PPS. Don’t make the product from powdered babies if you can help it because PETA’s gonna be all up in your business if you do. Unless babies aren’t considered animals. Then you’re probably fine.
Surprisingly, there has been no response.
Mmmmm...brains.
So the other day I cut through the park on the way to an appointment when I see these babies and I’m like Oh my God, those are the cutest babies ever but where are their parents and OH HOLY SHIT.
THAT BABY IS TOTALLY EATING THAT OTHER BABY’S BRAIN.
And that’s when I’m all “Fuck. That baby is a goddamn zombie”. Fantastic. Oh, and now the other baby is infected and it’s a zombie too. Fucking great. Awesome. That’s exactly what I needed today was to be stalked by two zombie babies. I mean it’s not that big of a deal because they can’t walk yet so I just have to keep shoving their heads away from me with my shoe, except what the hell do I do now? It’s not like I can kill a baby. Even a zombie one. And where the hell are their parents anyway and why is this my problem? GET OFF ME BABIES. And then a police officer shows up and is all “IS THERE A PROBLEM HERE, MA’AM AND WHY ARE YOU KICKING BABIES?!”
And I’m like “No officer, there’s not a problem. I’m just kicking these babies because they’re fucking zombies. And it’s really less of a ‘kick’ than it is a ‘benign but effective defensive maneuver’. What? No, actually I’m not going to lay down on the ground with my hands behind my head because that’s where the zombie babies are.” And then I got distracted because the officer was being an asshole and that’s when one of the babies chewed through my Achilles tendon.
So long story short? Yeah. I had a terrible day.
PS. This post is really just a metaphor for the kind of day I’m having because someone sent me that picture and he was all “I thought this would cheer you up” and I’m all “THESE ZOMBIE BABIES ARE FUCKED UP. STOP SENDING ME THIS SHIT” and my friend implied that I have emotional problems for immediately jumping to the conclusion that the baby was a zombie but I have an excuse because I’m dying. And yes, that’s a slight exaggeration but not by much because I’m taking this chemo drug for my rheumatoid arthritis and it’s making me throw up a lot and and the outside of the bottle is all “YOU’RE GOING TO FUCKING DIE“.
Actual text meant to scare the shit out of you, I assume:
“Some side effects of methotrexate may cause death. You should only take methotrexate to treat life-threatening cancer, or certain other conditions that are very severe and that cannot be treated with other medications”
Which sounds ungood, right? But actually my arthritis has been in a remission for the last couple months so technically the worst part was just the treatment itself because it makes me throw up all the time. So last week I convinced my doctor to cut my 10 pill dose down to 8 pills which was awesome because I stopped throwing up but then I woke up this morning and I can barely walk. Awesome. And what really sucks is that NO ONE EVEN KNOWS WHY THIS DRUG WORKS. They’re guessing it *may* work because it fucks up your immune system and keeps cells from growing properly so your body attacks your immune system instead of your joints. Because who needs a working immune system when you have an autoimmune disease that makes you so sick that your best option is to take a drug that can kill you? Basically it’s like being stabbed in the neck to take your mind off your stubbed toe. And that’s why today my feet feel like tiny zombies have been gnawing on them. See what I did there? Full circle. Moral: Rheumatoid arthritis is worse than being attacked by baby zombies. I think someone has said that before. Probably Hemingway.
Comment of the day: I think this is just evolution in action: the big baby is going straight for the brain, & the little one is trying to figure out how to eat a SHOE. I’m assuming survival of the fittest works for zombies. I mean they’re technically dead, right? I’m confusing myself now. ~ Drolgerg
Remember last year when I wrote that post about mistaking a photo of premature baby feet for delicious raspberry gummi bears and people saw the photo and thought I’d posted a picture of dismembered baby feet and so I had to go back and clarify that the baby was totally fine and I was all “Seriously guys, no matter how dark my sense of humor is I can assure you that I will never post fucked-up shit like dismembered baby feet to make you laugh because that’s fucking insane” and then I had to actually add a tag to my blog called “NOT dismembered baby feet” which is pretty much the most embarrassing disclaimer to ever have to make about your writing.
Well today I almost posted a photo of this monster that washed up on the beach in New York and I had some devastating funny moderately amusing quips about it being another tiny sasquatch or possible an R.O.U.S but before I finished my post some experts started saying that it’s probably a drowned dog and so I’m dusting off the “No Dismembered Baby Feet Or Other Fucked-Up Shit Clause” here so I can save you the emotional turmoil of having to stare in awe at a totally cool monster which we may later find out is a totally decomposing dog. Unless you want to stare at it, in which case it’s right here, you sick, wonderful freaks.
And speaking of things which are supposed to be funny but fail miserably, did you read that the University of Wolverhampton (this is a real place) recently published an article about the oldest recorded joke in the world? It was told by the Sumerians in 1900 BC and goes like this:
“Something which has never occurred since time immemorial; a young woman did not fart in her husband’s lap.”
Um. What?
I don’t even understand the sentence structure. Something that never happened is that a young woman never farted? Isn’t that a double negative? Wouldn’t one negative cancel out the other? Then the joke would be ”Something that did happen: Some chick farted on her husband’s lap.”
Which actually? Is kinda funny. I actually giggled when I typed that.
Touché, Sumerians. 4000 years later and it’s still fresh.
PS. I told my coworker that scientists had discovered the world’s oldest joke and he told me not to tell him the punchline and ruin it for him. I was all “It’s fucking four THOUSAND years old, DJ. I don’t think it qualifies for a spoiler alert warning.” Then he put his fingers in his ears and yelled “Lalalalala!” and ran away before I could tell him the joke, which, in all fairness, I probably would have fucked up anyway.
Update: Additional pictures of the dog monster have turned up which help to explain absolutely nothing and might make you throw up a lot.
Comment of the day: If it starts out “A Phonecian walked into a bar…” I’ve heard it. ~ Apathy Lounge
