Pimp My Wry

Twitter? I Hardly Even Know Her!

I had been at a loss as to what to write about for days, and then, mere moments ago, as I was watching Judge Judy on Larry King, I made a typo in my address bar and it made me laugh and also laugh. I was just one letter off, but those are always the best typos. What I typed was: twatter.com.

Look, I’m not proud. I’m not highbrow or Ivy League or upper crust. I realize this. I revel in this. So understand that I do not expect this twatter business to win any comedy awards. But it’s been a long day. A day I have spent converting endless, ungodly amounts of pages written in Chicago style to Associated Press style, which, despite how glamorous and sexy that sounds, is neither. In my free time, I wrote a grad school paper (hi, I’m 37, GET ME THE HELL OUT OF GRAD SCHOOL) on the intricacies of group social work with teenagers. The gist? TEENAGERS SUCK.  (Though, to be fair, I think most people suck, which is why I’m considering becoming a crisis counselor for cats. Because, honestly, they’re all freakin’ drama queens, so the work would be plentiful. Their crises would be, like, “She bought me Lamb & Chicken Fancy Tasty Good Morsels, and she KNOWS I like Liver & Beef Yummy Swell Num Nums. I can’t fuckin’ stand living with that woman,” and “Every time I fall asleep against his leg, he eventually gets up. I mean, he gets ALL THE WAY UP. He sits back down, I fall asleep, and he GETS UP AGAIN AT SOME POINT. Can you write me a script for Xanax?”

Hey, Gourmet...Leave Them Kids Alone!

In today’s New York Times, there is an article singing the praises of Michelle Obama’s advocating healthy eating habits. It includes the intriguing tidbit that the editor of Gourmet magazine, Ruth Reichl, “would like the White House kitchen to issue regular news releases that describe what the first couple and their daughters are eating. (Then parents across the country could tell their children, ‘You know, Malia and Sasha were eating salad yesterday. ...’)”

Really? Really?

Really.

I would just like to say, right here and now, that I thank the god of your choice for not having me grow up as America’s First Daughter. For if I had, in fact, grown up as America’s First Daughter, here’s a transfatty little taste of what one of those non-eating-disorder-inducing press releases would look like circa 1985:

7 a.m. Diet Pepsi.

9 a.m. Diet Pepsi.

10 a.m. Pencil eraser.

11 a.m. Half a sheet of graph paper.

12 noon.  Five (5) stolen French fries from unsuspecting friend.

2 p.m. Three (3) pieces Hubba Bubba bubble gum, original flavor.

2:45 p.m. Jiffy Pop popcorn, Diet Pepsi.

3 p.m. One (1) box of Wheat Thins dredged in Temp Tee whipped cream cheese.

4:30 p.m. Twenty (20) piece chicken mcnuggets with four (4) containers of sweet ‘n’ sour dippin’ sauce, Diet Pepsi.

5:30 p.m. Four (4) spoonfuls of unnatural peanut butter (creamy).

7 p.m. Two (2) slices pepperoni pizza, one (1) slice cheese, Diet Pepsi.

9 p.m. Five (5) pieces pepperoni picked off leftover slice.

9:15 p.m. Tip of leftover slice.

9:30 p.m. Half of de-tipped leftover slice.

9:40 p.m. Other half.

10 p.m. Diet Pepsi.

11 p.m. Slice of cheese pizza hidden in oven by mother.

12 midnight.  One layer of Pepperidge Farm Milanos, half/whole bag potato chips, dependent upon whether there is a half or whole bag available.

1:30 a.m. White bread, toasted, buttered.

3 a.m. Whatever pizza is left, wherever it is hidden. Cold, inhaled.

3:05 a.m. Diet Pepsi

While Malia and Sasha may not currently be strictly adhering to the above diet, and I certainly don't recommend that they do, I’d bet dollars to doughnuts (mmm…doughnuts…) that the likelihood of them joining the Cult of Disordered Eating (a.k.a. Stop Watching Me Eat!) would increase exponentially with each friggin’ press release about what they’re putting in their already-surely-freaked-out mouths.

And if anyone starts talking about how toned their arms are, I’m takin’ my ball and goin' home.

Money's Too Tight to Mention

In today's tough economic times, every penny counts. But what if you've already been counting your pennies? What if, unlike the day trader turned dog walker, you haven't been going on lavish vacations to Aruba to visit the 90,000 friends you haven't met yet, or dropping $500 at Le Cirque every Saturday? What if you already drink tap water and buy generic? Well, fear not, old-school minimum wager, for there are still lots of ways for you to save money while living in the style to which you've been accustomed. The following is a list of some oft-overlooked luxuries that you could easily do without or replace with a thrifty alternative.

1. Toilet paper. People waste tens of dollars on this luxury every year, and for what? A sore ass and a dirt trail. Next time you find yourself in need of a wipe down, waddle your way to the kitchen and grab a shriveled head of lettuce. Instead of tossing that bad boy in the trash, why not introduce it to your special area when you're feeling not so fresh. Each leaf provides just the right amount of moisture to leave your bottom feeling tops, and it's ecofriendly! My favorites are Boston and greenleaf; save the iceberg for when you really need it.

2. Showering. Do you own a cat? Of course you do. Do you ever bathe her? Of course you don't. And that's my point. You don't need to bathe her, because she bathes herself...with her tongue! You can learn a thing or two from your feline friends by doing the same. Your taste buds act as a natural exfoliant and the amino acids in your saliva break down the dirt and grime to leave you feeling clean and fresh. Watch your water bills dry up as you reduce your carbon footprint once again.