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Tag: funny
The Feminist Wolf
By Sam Jarvis
I’m always cold. Sure, it’s a girl thing. But it’s not so much that I’m cold in bed, my frigid feet snuggling up against a warm partner. Or that I’m cold in the office, the thermostat seemingly always lower than it should be. I’m more so cold because it’s fucking snowing outside and Alaska is freezing as shit. Fur or no fur, I’m ready for bikini season.
My pack is wonderful. I love my family, I love our domain. We have 20 square miles, but our den is homey. We roam our territory day in and day out trying to put food on the table for the kids. I mean pups. Mmm, I could go for a kid right now. Small goats are rare here but with a little lemon and pepper it would make a fine dinner for a school night.
There are dangers, but the men piss all over everything so they don’t have to murder the shit out of other wolves that come into our space. Do you know how many fictional loads of laundry it takes to get blood out of your husband’s muzzle after he’s fucked up a rival wolf? Make up wipes don’t do the trick, that’s for sure.
Wolves mate for life. But if my husband got killed or something, I would have to be with someone else. I wouldn’t have another option, really. And that’s the problem. There is not a lot of choice for us women wolves, and I’d like that to change.
I’m in a fucking dope ass wolf pack, okay? Like, we are the shit up here in Alaska. Oh, you’re a brown bear? You might as well be Lennie from Of Mice and Men (which is a wonderful read, by the way. I have it on my Kindle.). Wolves are different. We’re super awesome. Would you rather have a fat ass bear on your sweatshirt, or a sleek, mystical wolf? Right. You get me.
But even so, I am left with the feeling that as a female I can’t have it all. Every year when I get pregnant, I have to stay in the den until the pups are born, and even then I have to rely on my husband to bring home the bacon (or moose, deer, sheep, some bison burgers. Depends on the night.) And while it is lovely that he does so, I want to work too. Why do I HAVE to stay home with the children? I had a job before I got pregnant. I’m just as good at draining the life out of things as he is. Yet the second you’re knocked up it’s like none of that matters, and you have to just concede to being a mother and ONLY a mother. Can’t I still be a terrifying blood-hungry wolf, who just happens to have offspring?
Sure, there is a lack of babysitters amongst the pack. Not a lot of bubble gum chewing teens texting their BFFs while watching Pretty Little Liars. I understand that. But I guess I’d like it if my husband helped out too. He could spend a day in the den while I go out and piss on shit. I want to show everyone that we aren’t just baby making machines. We’re strong and powerful. Our purpose in the workforce doesn’t end when we get pregnant with a litter of small baby wolves.
So let’s fight, and prove that we can be anything we want to be. CEOs, athletes, predatory mammals! Don’t let a dominant male tell you shit, girl. You do you.
Because as the moon rises above us, its light shining onto our glistening grey fur and we howl into the darkness, it’s important to remember one thing. Even if things never change in our pack, no matter what, we are still (quite literally) badass bitches.
Read more of my short humor pieces here.
Posted Without Comment
Suicidal Math Teacher (The Downs and Downs of Mr. Greenwald)
By Sam Jarvis
The only thing Mr. Greenwald liked was numbers. Problem solving of any other kind was just too hard. Every day, he went to work in a bad taupe suit and looked into the eyes of 25 freshman. Was this all his life had become? A turkey sandwich for lunch and chalk on his hands? He stood in front of the class.
“Say there was a train traveling 70 miles per hour, and 3 miles down the track I’d tied myself to the rails,” he began. “How long would it take the train to hit me?”
“Don’t you mean how much time would you have to free yourself?” Rachel Cunningham asked.
“No,” he responded. Abigail Billows raised her hand.
“2.57 minutes.”
“Not soon enough, I say. But correct.” Mr. Greenwald paced as students passed notes and stared at the walls. He stopped, noticing chalk on his pants. He tried to brush it off but ended up spreading it even more. “Now let’s say,“ he continued, “I was at a record store and they were having a sale. Buy one CD for $13, get another 30% off. If I had $35 and planned on jumping out of my apartment window later that night, how many CDs could I buy?” Mr. Greenwald waited for a response. Trevor McGinley blinked at him.
“Um, sir? We’re supposed to be learning about parabolas today.” The class erupted in laughter as Mr. Greenwald set his chalk down. A paper football was launched in his general vicinity. He exhaled, rubbing his eyes with such force that he wondered if gouging them out should be part of today’s lesson plan. His vision soon refocused on the stupid kids in front of him.
“What if I had a gun and was going to shoot myself in the head. How far away could I hold it and still have it kill me instantly? Bullets travel at 1,126 feet per second, if that helps.” Abigail again raised her hand as Mr. Greenwald nodded in her direction.
“I would suggest putting the muzzle right up to your skull if you wanted to guarantee being killed instantly. The velocity of the bullet wouldn’t really matter at that point.”
“Also,” Rachel Cunningham chimed in. “Your sandwich just fell on the floor.”
Read more of my short humor pieces here.
Relatable
Circus
By Sam Jarvis
Come one, come all, to the greatest attraction you’ve ever seen! All of the wonder and magic you could possibly imagine, with the greatest talent in the world! Introducing, for the first time on stage, spotlight please, drumroll… The woman who juggles!
In one hand she has her sick mother! She needs constant care and still has a house full of old yearbooks and crap to sort through! They’ve never been close, but now that she’s dying that doesn’t matter and she has to handle everything her mother is leaving behind!
In the other hand is her dream job that took her six years to get! The hours are long but eventually she might be happy! If only her evil boss Ted would cut her some fucking slack once in awhile everything would be good but of course he doesn’t so her dream job is quickly becoming her worst nightmare! Does she even want to work in this profession anymore? Who knows! Life is hard!
And up, way up in the air, is her serious boyfriend who is ready to settle down, boy he’s really flying up there! Even though there is a lot going on in her life he wants to get married and have babies as soon as possible!!
Can she fling her almost dead mother into the air just as her future husband comes crashing down to the hand that holds her dream job? We’ll see! Gather in the center tent, ladies and gentlemen, for the most thrilling show of the season!
Read more of my short humor pieces here.
The Bachelorette
Did I not tell you guys I’m the new Bachelorette??
Watch my drunken antics on Tosh.0. Thank God for my theatre background.
Naked and Afraid Recap: “Suck It, Gary”
The jungles of Panama are lush, vibrant, and filled with so many fucking NOPEs that if you were to drop me off in that ish I’d be like, “Oh HELL no.”
Season five kicks off with 23-year-old Kim from Utah, and 53-year-old Gary from Nevada who has seven freaking children. Kim immediately goes, “My partner’s a religious cop.” Her and I both know that is not the ideal partner in a situation like this. You know who you want? A wilderness EMT. Somebody who can make great “cordage.” God may lift your spirits, but he ain’t making you a fire.
Speaking of fire, they don’t have one. Turns out Kim’s only used her little fire device (fine, it’s called a bow drill) twice and Gary is fucking pissed about it. She’s really letting him down, even though I have yet to see one thing he has done for the two of them besides show her a cross made out of a stick.
They can’t sleep because it’s cold and also there is a HUGE FUCKING SPIDER right above their heads. I’m a city girl, okay? I have never lived anywhere with a population of fewer than 10 million people. So this shit is not for me, I get that. But who IS it for? LOOK AT THIS SPIDER.
The next morning Gary drinks the creek water and I’m going to be honest with you I’m hoping this is where things get interesting. I’ve seen episodes where people have one sip of gross water and immediately shit their brains out. But I guess it’s fine, so now they have water. You know what isn’t fine? That Gary won’t cuddle with Kim for warmth.
He’s a religious man. We know this. But Kim is not about that life. They get in a fight about making fire and/or snuggling and it goes something like this: “Risking our survival is dangerous.” “So is not cuddling.” It’s a real fucking page turner. Kim finally makes a fire and it’s a glorious “Fuck you” to Gary.
So Gary is not feeling great and wants to call the medic. Look I’m sure he feels like complete shit, but it’s day four and I’m going to stress how little he has done so far in this journey. Oh, your blood pressure’s low? Maybe put down your cross stick and try to find some fucking food, Gary.
Gary’s gone, which leaves Kim alone in the jungle for SEVENTEEN DAYS. Honestly I think she can do it, if only because at one point she is literally starving to death, covered in no fewer than 100 bug bites and she just goes, “Nature is a bitch.” Um, yes. Understatement of the year.
Girl hasn’t eaten in five days, and I am tripping balls about it. I’ve seen my friends do juice cleanses and they STRUGGLE. This girl hasn’t eaten a god damn thing and can somehow still stand. I get fainty if I eat lunch late.
She finds a coconut, cracks it open, and a bunch of the coconut water goes into her crotch but Kim cannot be stopped, so she drinks that vagina water straight from the source. She also says, “Suck it, Gary” and now I love her.
Pigs are trying to kill her, she’s killing cayman, it’s all very primal and terrifying. But she makes a huge ass snare that is the most dope trap I’ve ever seen and I am suddenly feeling this incredible sense of feminism. I’m having a, “I am woman hear me roar” moment even though I am sitting on my couch doing NOTHING.
Kim has so many fucking bug bites so naturally she pees on herself and rubs it on her face to deter them. I want to be horrified, but any bite that feels like “fiberglass being constantly rubbed into your body” probably warrants some pee lotion.
Oh also? Bitch caught a boar. She is crushing it in this jungle right now!! She has been alone for SO MANY DAYS. She makes it to Day 21 and also to her extraction point. I cannot imagine how good a shower would feel after that shit. I’m talking a body scrub, some leave in conditioner, maybe a honey face mask? That sounds good to me, and I have not been peeing on myself for three days.
Overall Kim lost 23 pounds, which is not surprising considering she ate nothing but cayman and vagina coconut. She also raised her Personal Survival Rating to a solid 7. Gary’s of course got lowered, because that’s what happens when you sit on the jungle floor and twiddle your thumbs while you starve to death.
Check out more of my recaps here.
Delay
By Sam Jarvis
The flight had already been delayed 6 hours, but he was finally getting close to his boarding time. They’d pushed it back twice, once for bad weather and a second time because the incoming flight got rerouted, but Josh had a good feeling about this. They’d be on their way soon.
“Ladies and gentlemen patiently awaiting the boarding of flight 3775 nonstop service to New York’s La Guardia, I’m sorry to inform you there has been another delay.” The speaker system was muffled but the message clear. “We will now begin boarding at 11:15 instead of 9:05. We apologize for the inconvenience.”
Josh slammed his ten-dollar Chilis To Go turkey Panini onto his lap. He then gathered all of his belongings, his roller carry-on, his suit bag, and headed to the gate desk.
“Excuse me, but what in the hell is going on here?” he asked a meek but adorable airline employee. She chuckled, lipstick on her teeth.
“Well this is pretty typical of hell, sir,” she answered, continuing to type on her outdated keyboard.
“What’s the hold up?”
“Hmm, help me decide. Should it be de-icing? That we have to de-ice the plane?” Her eyes were filled with excitement at the thought. Josh looked outside.
“It’s 85 degrees out,” he responded. She laughed hysterically.
“Oh my God you’re right. I can’t say that! How about like, a bird got caught in the engine? That’s a scary one.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“You asked what in the hell is going on. This is always what’s going on in hell.” Seeing that he still didn’t follow, she glanced at his ticket. “Mr. Hartnett?” she said, now sweeter. “You do know you’re in hell, right?”
“Hell?”
“Yep! All the books had it wrong with that fire and brimstone business. Hell is just an airport where your flight gets delayed every few hours for eternity.” With this Josh Hartnett gasped, taking a few steps back.
“Wait, I’m dead? Why didn’t I get into heaven?!” She looked at him, very serious now.
“You know what you did.”
He was horrified, until a smile broke from her face. “I’m just kidding, I say that to everybody! I don’t know why you’re here. I mean sure, murderers are all over this airport, we all know that’s bad. But beyond that it could’ve been anything. Did you pay all of your parking tickets?” She laughed and touched his arm. “I loved you in Lucky Number Slevin, by the way.”
“Yeah, thanks. So my flight will he delayed forever?”
“Yep! But there’s complimentary shoe shining at gate B14, so that’s kind of cool. Although remember to tip.” Josh scratched his head. “Also I would buy a neck pillow if you ever want to get any rest.”
“There are only like, four places to eat here.”
“I know, right? Couldn’t Satan have made it an international terminal? Those are so nice.”
“So it’s just Chilis To Go forever,” he started, now losing hope.
“Afraid so. And don’t try to get a discount because of who you are. This place is teeming with celebrities.”
“And murderers.”
“Yes! And murderers. And people hogging the charging stations!” She looked at him warmly now. “Anyway, what should your next delay be? I’m thinking storms over Tulsa. An oldie but a goodie.”
Read more of my short humor pieces here.
Emmys 2015: What’s An Olive Kitteridge?
Ah, to win an Emmy. (Somewhere in the Hollywood Hills Emmy Rossum throws her clenched fists into the air as she quotes Princess Jasmine- “I am not a prize to be won!!”)
We start off with Andy Samberg’s musical number about how he’s watched every single show on TV this year, except he leaves out the one he actually fucking stars in, Brooklyn Nine Nine. You play detective Jake Peralta, remember? His opening monologue is very TOPICAL but let’s be real, I don’t need to hear another Kim Davis joke for the rest of my life. Over her, over her long ass hair.
The first category is supporting actress in a comedy series, and there are SO MANY NOMINEES. I mean, holy shit. It’s like you’re having a super cool birthday party and only want to invite a few girls but have to include everyone in the class because you’re in 2nd grade and that’s just how it’s done.
Allison Janney wins, which is great because she’s been one of my faves since 10 Things I Hate About You when she played a principal writing an erotic novel and she kept referring to the guy’s dick as his quivering member. “Judith! What’s another word for engorged?”
Veep wins for writing, and also for supporting actor in a comedy series. As Tony Hale walks up to accept his award, the narrator chick (who usually says things like, “This is Tony’s second win and third nomination”) instead shares this fun factoid: “He was so excited about his nomination that he forgot to take his daughter to camp.” Um, cool story, bro. Do you really think that when Tony motherfucking Hale sits at home and replays his Emmy moment on the DVR he wants to hear you talk about how he forgot to take his child to camp? (I hope none of these people ever “replay their Emmy moment.”)
Jill Soloway wins for best comedy director for Transparent, and this bitch right here walks up and immediately thanks Goddess. Fuck yes, girl. You do you. Jimmy Kimmel eats the envelope for comedy actor, which is given to Jeffrey Tambor.
Julia Louis-Dreyfus of course crushes it for Veep, and it’s here that I realize she DOES NOT AGE. Like, at all. Is not currently aging. Do we know what type of moisturizer she uses? Is it at all possible that she bought it for less than ten dollars at CVS? No? K.
We’re onto the Limited Series or Movie category, which I am totally confused about until it dawns on me that they used to be called Mini Series. Guys, it’s fine to keep calling it that, it’s not like the word “mini” diminishes the ten thousand famous actors in it and makes it less special. Stop mystifying me with your word trickery.
So, what IS an Olive Kitteridge? Something we should all be watching, I take it. Everyone who ever did anything for that shit wins an Emmy, including my home girl Frances McDormand who continues to be DOPE AS HELL.
PS, um, the Emmys were sponsored by the movie The Intern? Seems a TINY bit ironic that a movie is funding the biggest celebration of television in the world. Everybody’s all like fuck movies!! Movies suck! …Except The Intern, in theaters September 25th.
Also the screen on stage is SO FUCKING HUGE that these people might as well be watching this shit from home. They’re all just staring at this fucking screen! Do you see Andy Samberg in the bottom left? That is how outrageously humongous this screen is. I cannot get over it.
We must have moved into Variety Series, because now The Daily Show is winning everything. Someone I used to work with wins an Emmy and although this is great news for him I feel physically ill and think I am going to throw up. (“Just because I’m sitting on my couch doesn’t mean I am less successful.” -something I will repeat to myself as I down another vodka tonic and contemplate my dwindling checking account.)
Hmm, I wonder what category we’re onto now? If only there was some sort of visual cue to help me understand…
Game of Thrones wins for writing, Peter Dinklage for supporting actor. Uzo Aduba wins for supporting actress and CRIES A LOT. She is adorable, but that speech was a little cray cray. I am not the only person who feels this way because suddenly my phone is buzzing next to me as I cram another wedge of brie into my mouth.
Responding in Bitmojis is really the only way to live. Anyway Viola Davis wins best actress, and Jon Hamm finally wins a fucking Emmy after SIXTEEN NOMINATIONS and this is how he gets up on stage:
Beautiful. Veep and Games of Thrones are the big series winners, but really in my heart of hearts the winner is me because I get to see Tracy Morgan present an award. I LOVE YOU TRACY, YOU ARE A SHINING STAR IN THE GALAXY OF LIFE.
The main things I took from the Emmys were: an extreme sense of envy, and the realization that walking a red carpet in 100 degree weather is fucking funny to watch (SO much blotting) and next year the Emmys should take place on the surface of the sun.
Everyone in their thousands of dollars worth of crap silently cursing about how badly their thighs are chafing? Count me in.
Check out more of my show recaps here.
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