Censorshit

Dan just informed me that the Chicago Tribune censors the word "fart." Here's the context:

Mark Anderson might be the worst (gas-passer) ever. He takes these protein shakes, so he smells like little babies do.

Who are you censoring that for? Children? Really? You think kids learn about farting by reading the paper. This just in Chicago Tribune: You're dumb as vaca caca.

Or maybe you are censoring it because you paper chaps are trying to transfer your high society moralist view to us street urchins. Well listen Thurston Howell the IIIs, I hope you explode.

What's the big deal with the word fart? I can think of much more offensive replacements. Here she blows:

crap cloud
fecal vapor
reverse anus deodorant
poo puffs
a visit from Uncle Shitbreath

Getting Ahead Without Giving It

The best way to obtain the upper hand at work is to belittle your boss's appearance. Follow these 3 easy steps:

Step 1: Your boss says you are crappy at your job. Respond with "Well maybe I would be better if you didn't look like the Pringles guy."

Step 2: Your boss tells you calling her the Pringles guy was out of line. You say "Maybe you wouldn't look like the Pringles guy if you didn't look like the Pringles guy."

Step 3: Stick your hand out and ask for a raise. Cash. All unmarked bills. Tell her to not trip the alarm or you'll kill her family.

UndiscoveredTalent

There is so much undiscovered talent walking our streets! Of course, I'm speaking of hobos. Have you stopped by a hobo to read their sign lately?! They're spectacular! I mean these people are marketing executives in the making!! Let me give you two outstanding examples, both by the same man:

Trick or Treat I'd like to eat!

So give me money!

The second one was mostly just a drawing. It looked almost exactly like this:

Allow me to deconstruct this one. Orignally he was charging you 10 cents. But now he is accepting nickles which means he is having a half price blowout sale!!! That kind of savings causes a buzz. It gets people excited! Also, I love how he included the front and back view of each coin just so you know what they look like from both angles. This guy knows what he's doing.

CONCLUSION:

Marketing Execs, fire your high-paid, over-schooled, suit monkeys and hire a bunch of no-paid under-schooled rag monkeys. Do it now while they are only charging you 5 cents!!

Tips for Victims of Crime- Excluding Murder

Below are tips from my book:

Tips for Victims of Crime, Excluding Murder:

Can't Help You There Deadie

By Rachel Lada

By Rachel Lada

1. If you have been victimized by a crime person you should be prepared to totally tattle on them. If you aren't prepared to tattle then don't even get victimized in the first place. Hate to say it, but that was your first mistake.

2. Once you get the tattling out of the way, your next step is to meet with an artist who will attempt to sketch your attacker. Don't leave your fate in the hands of a washed up high school art teacher. Instead bust out your computer and create an avatar that looks like your attacker. Here's one I created:


Totally hit the mark on this one. As you can see my attacker was wearing a top hat at the disco.

And last but not least, my number 3 tip for victims.....

Stop being so sensitive. You're probably so sensitive about crime because you yourself are a criminal. Now who's guilty?

New Show Idea!

I just thought of the best show ever. It’s about a doctor who treats people with fertility issues. It’s called Crotch Problems. That or Crotch Problems, MD. Naturally, the doctor’s last name is Crotch. Otherwise the title wouldn’t be a pun and if there's anything I know from watching TV it’s that you need a title exponentially more clever than your writing and cast.

Normally on "doctor shows" the practitioner’s office is either in a small town or a big city. In my opinion that’s because the doctor is too stupid to find a kickass location for their office. That’s why my doctor, Dr. Pablo Crotch, is going to have a practice right on the boarder of a small town and a huge city so he has to deal with big city and small town crotch problems all in the same day. Of course this type of location doesn’t exist, but you know what, neither does Dr. Pablo Crotch (sorry ladies) so I don’t see what the big deal is if I have to make up a town.

Oh, and it’s by a port so there are boating accident related crotch problems.

Oh, and he’s by sand and snow too so he has to deal with snow and sand injured downstairs areas. Look, the bottom line is no matter what you throw at Dr. Pablo Crotch, he can take it. He’s a fucking world premier crotch specialist.

OH! I just thought of a great billboard one liner.

Don’t judge a person until you walk a mile in their crotch.

If you don’t like my show idea it’s because you yourself have crotch problems. Now who's ridiculous?

Nudie Bar Ad Campaign Commentary

The Admiral Theatre has a rather ingenious advertising campaign to promote its policy of full nudity:

"Why only see half?"

Its a jab at nudie bars that are so incredibly prude that they feature only topless ladies. Sell modesty somewhere else, Puritans! In North Mayfair/Albany Park we like our 49 year old, high school drops outs completely nude. OK. OK. So I'm being a little hard on bars that only have topless women. Here topless bar owners who read my blog, I'll throw you a bone. Below is an even more ingenious advertising campaign for your usage:

"Why only see 1/4?"

Get that into consumers think blobs. Because if you make 'em think there is a place where they can see only one boob, your place seems more appealing. Eh? Eh? Well fuck you if you don't like it. I'm just trying to help you like a true patriot would.

Headline Idea

Did Senator Ted Kennedy die? If not, I thought of the best headline for when he does.

Senator Dead Kennedy

It’s perfect! Even if he did die, I think the papers should re-run the story so they can utilize this wonderful and respectful idea!

Speaking of reruns, why doesn’t the newspaper rerun stories? Like super popular ones? Those bad boys should make it to syndication. Every night at 10pm I should be able to read about the Mayor dying the river green on St. Patrick’s Day. Oh who am I kidding. Those bigwigs at the Trib will never do it. Because if they did, it would be a perfect world. In a perfect world the news stories are about lolly pop landfills and hugging contests and that shit just doesn't sell papers.

P.S. I'd like to give a shout out to Laura Martin who reminded me I have a blog.

Celebefficiency

People ask me all the time why I don’t blog more regularly and I say, "I’m frickin’ busy!" I mean look at how my time is spent on any given day:

49% Watching tv.
50% Talking about celebrity couples
1% Complaining about foul smells.

(Margin of Error: +/- 50%)

I hear ya, people. I need to be more committed to my blog. But where will I find the time?!!!! Daisy of Love is NOT going to watch itself!!!!!!!

I know! I'll amalgamate the names of the celebrity couples I talk about! Like E! News!!

Here are my top celebrity couples:

1. Lucille Ball + John Cusack = Ballsack
2. Tom Hanks + Jamie Lee Curtis =ToJam
3. Vonda Shepard + Mitt Romney= Vomit
4. Farrah Fawcett + Quentin Tarantino = FaQ
5. Allen Funt + Ciara = Cunt
6. Melissa Joan Hart + Dennis Franz = Fart
7. Cortney Cox + Jeff Foxworthy = Coxworthy
8. Jeff Foxworthy + Cortney Cox + Matthew Fox = FoxworthyCoxFox
9. Cortney Cox + Socks the Cat = Cox the Cat
10. Princess Diana + Rhea Pearlman = Princess Diarrhea
11. Clint Eastwood + Doris Roberts = Clidoris

Dr. Swine Flu, MD

There is a major danger associated with Swine Flu, one that the network news won't tell you about.

Doctors and non-practicing Mexicans

now look the same!!






Which one is the real doctor?

Which one of these people can cure my pregnancy?

A Victimfilled Crime: Ripped from the Headlines!

I'm able to come up with the best Law and Order episode premises while driving my car. Apparently operating a deadly machine at 82 miles an hour really relaxes the old think blob.

Ok so here's my episode suggestion. Listen up, Dick Wolf!

Debbie and Derrick are conjoined twins. One day Derrick rapes Debbie and then kills some random nail salon owner. The nail salon owner's body is never discovered in the episode. I'm just including this for heightening purposes!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Anywho, Debbie texts the cops when Derrick is sleeping. The next day the cops are at their door to arrest Derrick... but alas, Debbie, the victim, is attached to Derrick, the attacker!! What to do?!!

Fast foward to the trial. Just as the judge is about to read the verdict Debbie has a baby. THIS IS DERRICK'S BABY... FROM THE RAPE. Obviously the judge freaks out. The bailiff freaks out too and shoots the judge. They get a new judge. He shoots that one. It gets ridiculous. Needless to say, the bailiff gets put on review. Finally they get a new judge. He has a bullet proof vest, but he isn't wearing it so when the baliff shoots him, he dies. At last they get a judge wearing a bullet proof vest. He gets shot in the head. Finally they get a new judge and the bailiff takes a shot at him but his gun is out of bullets. This judge decides that Derrick should get probation, but he has LIMITED visitation rights and can only see his baby once a week. He has to wear a sheet over his head the other 6 days of the week. He ends up becoming an influential member of the KKK. Except on the one day a week where he can see his baby. He's a family man on that day!

And scene.

Killer Bees Reminder!

Back in the early 90s, local television news began warning us that African, killer bees were migrating from Mexico into the United States. They were moving at a rate of 1 mile a day! We had anywhere from 6 to 48 months to live.

Naturally, I was terrified of these African-Mexican-American bees. Unfortunately, this fear ruined a rather sexy relationship with my kindergarten classmate Dikembe Carlos Smith Sr. as I became suspicious of anyone that was born in Africa, raised in Mexico, and recently assimilated to America.

This morning was exactly 6900 days after I first heard of killer bees. It was 6899 days since I ended my saucy affair with Dikembe Carlos Smith Sr. I decided to research Killer Bees to see why I'm not dead. Per Wikipedia, Killer Bees were not projected to make it past Kansas City on account of the unbearable climate in places further north than KC.

This morning I realized that I believed local news programs and I.got.burned. Here are all the things from the morning news that I believed but am now questioning:

1. That salads have hidden calories.

2. That coffee is bad for me.

3. That coffee is good for me.

4. That the animated dancing baby video is hilarious.

5. That it would rain on March 3rd 2001.

6. That busy moms can multitask by bench pressing their newborn babies.

7. That a beautiful and trendy centerpiece can be constructed out of pebbles from my backyard, water, and a fish bowl.

WinterHatBirdFace Lady

I couldn’t sit on the train today because a woman choose to occupy half a double seater space with her butt and the other half with a 6 oz. bag of buttered popcorn from Nuts on Clark. This is what she looked like:



What’s the big deal? Well I’ll tell you, shit for brains. If an alien came down to Earth and was under the reasonable assumption that we had a caste system in the U.S. he/she would think I was lower than a bag of fucking buttered popcorn. There’s obviously tremendous potential to convey false information. And really when my intergalactic credibility is at stake things get fucking serious for me. For that reason, here is everything I wanted to say to her:

I hope that bag of popcorn is the exact size of the kidney stone lodged in your pee parts.
(Pointing to the bag) Sucks that your husband has exponentially more sex appeal than you. (Consider making out with the bag).
(Pointing to the bag) Oh is this your baby? I see the resemblance, butter face.
Didn’t it suck when buttered popcorn used to have to sit at the back of the bus? Fucking snackregation.

For Fellas that aren't Yellas

BEST COMPLIMENT EVER ALERT! Take note, fellas. Next time you see a lady at the disco that you want to compliment say, "Hey, sexy, are you eating enough? I'm worried. Your pants seem loose."

I know women and there is no woman who wouldn't immediately start having sex with you. 1000% guaranteed or your money back!

Basically, I hate you

Are you the kind of person who is so deeply affected by having the sniffles that you opt to incessantly mention it to innocent by-standers?

If you answered yes to that question I totally hate you and will at some point probably murder you. When you complain about having the sniffles you're taking your uncomfortable sensory experience and creating a verbalized, uncomfortable sensory experience for the fucking world. In that regard you are no better than a person who purposely infects people with HIV, the clap, or gum disease. In sum, complaining about having the sniffles makes you a total monster. In closing I'd like to take this opportunity to list notable persons who have been notorious for complaining about the sniffles and shit.

Judas
Mrs O'Leary's cow
The noid
The "time to make the donuts guy"
And finally, Joey Stalin

Refined Palate

Isn't it weird when you want to eat a dog because they are so adorable?

Isn't it also weird when you actually do eat a dog and then you post its picture on your blog pretending like you just "wanted" to eat it but didn't?

G.F.Man Grill Related Book Pitch

The train smelled like eggs today. I think its safe to assume someone brought their George Foreman Grill on the train and cooked themselves some eggs Benedict. For the record, I think that was wholly inappropriate. I wish someone would write an etiquette book just about the G.F. Man grill. I outlined the book's content below in case someone wants to write this sure bet for the NEWBERRY!

Title: 4 Uses for your G.F. Man Grill- NOT!
Content:

1. Do NOT cook eggs Benedict on the 7:54 train into Union Station.

2. Do NOT use as a tanning bed for celebrity babies.

3. Do NOT use as a crimping iron for your hair.

4. Do NOT put it in the gas tank of Doc Brown's DeLorean

Anxiety is Forever: DeFears

My List of Fears (Phase Two; Countdown to Scariness- Items 15-1):

15) The fact that the Walmart on Townline Road has a Subway in it that sells tacos.

14) M.A.S.H, but only the TV show. I like the movie.

13) Dropping my keys in a sewer grating

12) Civil War ghosts will haunt my house.

11) Little dogs.

10) That Dan will be pointing at my eye and an earthquake will strike and he will be jolted into poking out my eye.

9) Neanderthal babies, specifically that somehow instead of having a regular baby I will have a Neanderthal baby. In my eyes, this will occur because I have some weird, recessive Neanderthal gene that has been dormant in my bloodline for 600,000 years.

8) That I will become so overcome by the smell of my ex-landlord’s BO, that I will pass out in our backyard and he will drag my unconscious body into his apartment and have his way with me.

7) Any rhyme or limerick that is meant to deter bathroom patrons from sloppy urination.

6) Cloned livestock.

5) That the nation of China will find out how much I hate them.

4) That I will be putting holes in a potato in prep for making a baked potato and someone will jump out of the pantry and I will stab my hand.

3) That I will be receiving communion at Church, but instead of the priest putting Eucharist in my mouth he accidentally inserts a peacock’s feather.

2) That despite all my efforts I will develop not just a fupa, but the *largest and best fupa the world has ever seen. (* in width, height, and girth).

1) That science will team up with ESPN and isolate all of the things my husband finds compelling about sports and fantasy sports and embody them into a marketable, robot girlfriend casing that costs $100 or less.

Anxiety is Forever: DeFears

My List of Fears (Phase One: Items 30-16):

30) Losing my eye or eyes to one or all of the points on an umbrella.

29) Late 19th, early 20th century ghost children that “live” in hospitals.

28) Losing a finger to the spokes of a spinning bicycle wheel.

27) Nocturnal sleep-related eating disorder (NSRED).

26) Blowing a bubble with gum and a feather landing on it and getting in my mouth.

25) Blind people, especially the eyeless.

24) That while playing hide n seek I will hide in the bathtub and while I’m in there, someone will come in and use the toilet.

23) The 1950s.

22) The 1960s.

21) Quakers.

20) That someone has hidden a camera in my car and will play the tape for public viewing.

19) Episiotomies.

18) People who think the movie Full Metal Jacket is a comedy.

17) Yard sales in which most of the items for sale are made of yarn or have yarn attached to them.

16) Eating chicken nuggets at a picnic and accidentally popping a pigeon or a sparrow’s head into my mouth because I am distracted as to how fun the picnic is.

DamnTheLittleMan

When you only have one baby you can't stop loving it just because it pisses you off. They're the only baby you have so you must take what they dish out at you. As a parent, you're totally powerless. If you only have one baby, this is probably what it looks like:

This power struggle completely shifts if you have 8 babies at the same time. By having more babies at once you have created a more competitive market for your love. When you have 8 babies, you can hate a baby for being a dick and still have 7 more where that came from. Take a look at these 8 babies and notice how easy it is to stop loving one of them...

Guess how many of the mothers I surveyed saw baby number 8 and said, "What’s with that unibrow? LAST PLACE!!!!"... 100%. Yep, 100%. Ok, I'm lying. It was 110%.

Conclusion: Octomom is the luckiest mom in the world.

HappyBaby,SadBaby

I saw a baby laughing at the grocery store the other day so I decided to bring it back to the cruel reality of life by giving it the death stare. There's nothing more effective in shutting up a baby than the death stare. A stranger is scary enough but a stranger that clearly wants to kill you with their eyes is an unstoppable force. This is how the baby's face changed... This is how my face changed...

HumanBuffer

If you are like me you live your life perpetually fearful of being pushed in front of approaching trains while you are waiting on the platform at Union Station.
Here are some strategies I have compiled to alleviate this fear:

1) If you see a crazy person, start walking backwards. Some schools of thought say that this motion should be done ever so slowly so as not to startle anyone, but I say do it super fast. Really get your arms and legs pumping. Onlookers will think you are exercising and your actions will promote physical fitness. Physical fitness = patriotism. U-S-A. U-S-A. U-S-A. U-S-A.

2) Always create a human buffer between you and the tracks. Essentially sandwich yourself between the crazy person and another commuter. Now there are two schools of thought as to what makes a person a perfect human barrier. Some might say you should stand behind a very large or obese person. That way, when the crazy tries to push you onto the tracks you basically bounce off the large commuter. The other strategy is to position yourself behind a smaller human being, like a child or an anorexic. That way, when the insanoid tries to push you onto the tracks you bump into the lighter person and transfer your motion to the lighter person so they go flying on to the tracks. This is the preferred method because I personally believe that it gets “killing” off of the crazy person’s mind thereby minimizing the likelihood that the crazy will try more than once to push you. See the illustration below for details.
3) Curl into a ball and lay on the ground. This should be a last resort.


Whatever your preferred method, do what you can to stay “not crushed by a train.”

ExplosiveIllness

I sent my coworker the following card after she left work at 4:59pm and not 5:00pm:

PAGE1:

I was devastated to hear that you left work early due to illness. I think it is safe to assume you have diarrhea. I went from cubicle to cubicle telling everyone who works in the Chicago office about your battle with the violent bitch that is “the rhea.” This card represents the well wishes of everyone I have informed about your spastic colon. May God be with you, Rachel


PAGE 2:

FaceLady

You never get to see your face when you're speaking. Unless you're speaking to your twin… or talking to yourself while looking in the mirror… or watching yourself yell at babies via nannycam footage. This concept frightened me today when I watched a woman’s facial expressions while she was talking about the show The Bachelor. This is what she looked like:

I hope my face never looks like this when I talk. If I had one wish I would wish for 70 more wishes. Then I would wish 70 times that my face never looks like this woman’s face when I talk.