Tag: sam jarvis

Always A Bridesmaid, Never A Desk Lamp

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By Sam Jarvis

Let’s face it, I am an amazing bridesmaid. I’ve got extra bobby pins. I know the right pace to walk down an aisle. I can inform Aunt Georgia that the reception buffet is the wrong place to tell the story of how she walked in on Uncle Bob spooning his tennis student. And as I watch every beautiful bride walk down the aisle, her soon-to-be husband smiling at her in what I’m certain is the most incredible moment of their lives, I will dab a tear from my eye. And then of course hold her bouquet and straighten out her dress.

I’m happy for my friends. Really, I am. But when is it going to be my turn? My time to shine onto a neatly organized surface, illuminating a collection of paper clips near a days-old coffee stain? It’s hard to watch the girls I grew up with get zipped into dresses, one after another, knowing that I may never get the chance to gather dust in a cubicle, a Post-It note saying, “Pay gas bill!” taped to my base.

You can’t force these things. I know that. But if you haven’t turned into a desk lamp by the time you’re 30 or 35, you start to worry that it may never happen. I’ve baked penis-shaped cakes, lunged for bouquets in turquoise chiffon, and scoured social media for anything filtered and cropped that’s missing #TimHeartsSarah. But will I ever be surrounded by a mug full of pens and a half-eaten granola bar that is quickly attracting ants?

The next time someone asks me to be their bridesmaid by sending me an adorable Pinterest-inspired DIY photo frame, I hope that I will be in the position to respectfully decline. I will tell her that I can’t, partly because David’s Bridal doesn’t make dresses small enough for office supplies but also because my Saturdays will be spent sitting silently in an empty, dark office, excitedly awaiting the arrival of a bustling Monday. I will therefore be unable to attend your celebration of love at the Marriot by the airport.

It’s important to have hope, to have patience. I struggle with that sometimes. But tonight, as my head hits the hotel pillow, spinning from the open bar and several rounds of the Horah, I feel at peace. Someday I will be complete. I will be a desk lamp, watching Nate from accounting pick his nose and wipe it under his swivel chair. And I can’t wait.

Read more of my short humor pieces here.

The Bachelor Recap: “It’s Either Good News, Or Bad News.”

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lauren b ben higgings plane date

Me: “What is, girls are mean?”

Alex Trebek: “Ah I’m sorry, we were looking for, complete bitches.”

I’ve always said that putting your best foot forward involves trashing Olivia. I’ve ALWAYS said that. We kick off with girls sitting on chaise loungers wondering why, HOW, Ben likes her. If you ladies at home are wondering the same thing, go ahead and ask your boyfriend (who you’ve tied to the couch and forced to watch this). He’ll tell you. She’s fucking hot.

Lauren B. gets the first date card, prompting one of the girls to explain that the highlight of her day is, “those glimpses that I get to see him, before he takes other women on dates.” Yes, good. This is normal.

Lauren goes on the date and their first order of business is to get in some tiny-ass prop plane to do tricks and shit. Um, no thank you. If you’ve been reading my recaps since the dawn of time (summer-ish) you will know that Sam Jarvis DOES NOT FUCK WITH SINGLE PROPELLOR PLANES. My palms sweat in business class three white wines in, let alone in a tin can Harrison Ford’s probably already crashed.

bachelor prop plane lauren b

They fly to a hot tub in the middle of nowhere, which seems cute but he was JUST in a hot tub with Caila, so something about this gives me the ewws. Also is there some sort of generator out of frame? What’s powering this thing? (I’m 100 years old.) Anyway Lauren B is officially adorable and they would make very cute, very white babies together.

lauren b ben higgins date

Back at the mansion the girls are like, not having a great time. I can’t imagine why spending days trapped in a house with people you fucking hate would be terrible, but I guess it is! The group date card arrives and everybody’s names are on it except Becca, JoJo and Jubilee, so Jubilee knows shit ain’t in the cards for her.

The group date is all about soccer, and Lace doesn’t know goalies can pick the ball up with their hands so the other team scores. This immediately gives me flashbacks to my AYSO days when once a season they’d force me to be goalie and I was so nervous I thought I was going to shit my pants for the entire hour.

lace soccer goalie bachelor

While waiting to talk to Ben during cocktail hour one of the girls is like, “I don’t want to sit on a couch and sip on my water” which is the REALEST fucking thing I have ever heard anyone say about their time on The Bachelor. That is 96% of what their lives are.

But while they sit and sip, they of course have to talk about Olivia again and as the words pour out of their bitch mouths I am shoving more and more seaweed snacks into my face. This is good TV, guys. They not only say that Olivia has bad toes, but also that she has fake boobs and BAD BREATH.

Jami finally speaks this episode and she should’ve started with, “I’m Jami and I’m a fucking snitch.” She IMMEDIATELY tells Olivia what they said and it’s like wow, you are not allowed in my drug ring, you are a rat. Olivia asks what body part they made fun of and right away guesses her calves, which made me go HA! Very loudly and scare my sleeping boyfriend. She goes on to say, “Am I aggressive? Yeah. Do I have bad toes? Yeah” and suddenly I’m like you alright, Olivia. You alright.

Except then she starts talking about how Ben “pushed off her leg,” which to her meant they are now talking in secret code and I want to grab her by the shoulders, look her in the eyes and say Olivia, sweetheart, you’re a fucking psycho.

olivia bachelor ben crazy

In a TWIST!!!!!! Jubilee gets the final date card, but has literally zero chill and starts acting like a crazed cat climbing up a curtain. She is being SO AWKWARD, which is apparently what one of the girls calls “awko-taco” and whoever the hell just said that should pack up their shit and go.

Jubilee is afraid of heights and is already acting a fool, but has to get in a helicopter anyway. Out of nervousness she jokes, “Does anyone want to go on my date??” WELL. LET ME TELL YOU. This does NOT sit well with the ladies, nooooo siree. They’re super pissed because “Ben planned an amazing date” which is a laugh out loud statement and I can’t believe these grown ass women STILL think that Ben is planning these dates! You think he’s sitting in a production meeting like, “Guys, I want to take Jubilee on a helicopter ride to this one really cute spa I know of.” Um, no. Not how this works at all.

Jubilee’s still being kind of squirrely and spitting out food she thinks is horrible, but then she tells Ben that she’s obsessed with hot dogs and suddenly I’m like girl, maybe we are more alike than I thought!! Ben is just happy he can finally see what a normal day would be like with her, because this is a totally normal day:

jubilee ben date bachelor

Jubilee opens up and explains that her entire family died in Haiti except her. Well, shit. She’s officially lived ten thousand more lives than any of these betches in the house who think “Ben wants a soccer mom.” (Sure, Lauren H. Guy’s dicks get hard thinking of boring ass soccer moms with THICK MIDWESTERN ACCENTS. That’s a thing.)

At the rose ceremony, somber Ben announces that his family friends died in a plane crash, so Olivia immediately steals him away to clear up this calves/toes business. She says it’s really hard and starts crying. (Pret-ty fucking sure an editor got THREE gold stars for making it look like the crying is about the cankles and not the plane crash. Well done.)

Jubilee gives him a massage and Amber is like oh hell no. She wants to talk to her but Jubilee is NOT HAVING IT. She doesn’t want a fucking girl chat, okay Amber? You’re being a mean girl and it is NOT a good look. You know who agrees with me? Ben. He shoots Amber’s ass down so fast she’s like wait, what? If I were in that house and the girls wanted to “have a talk” I’d be like yeah, no. I’m gonna keep eating this slice of pie hovering over the kitchen sink (I eat my feelings).

jubilee massage

In a great final show button, Lace is outtie. She just can’t deal anymore and starts quoting her tattoo. She knew her ass was getting the boot and wanted to get out ahead of it! Gotta respect that.

Olivia is freaking the FUCK out about how there is only one rose left and she doesn’t have one yet. He had to punish her for talking about her damn calves while he was mourning the deaths of his friends, ya know? She gets the final rose, and then revisits this “secret communication” business. She says that when they hugged he squeezed her waist and she took that to mean, and I quote, “He can’t give me everything all the time and he knows I can handle that.” Or, ya know, he hugged you. Either one.

We’re in Vegas next week, so you know what that means!! …Wait I don’t know what that means. If you do, can you inbox me? Perf.

Check out more of my Bachelor recaps here.

Real Housewives of Beverly Hills Recap: “She Loves Muumuus.”

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Like a basketball player getting off a commercial flight, the women of Beverly Hills are just starting to stretch their legs. (“What?”-Things I think to myself when I write.)

Lisa and Ken pack for their trip to Italy with Kyle and her family, except Ken cannot shut the fuck up about the fact that Kyle only wears muumuus even though it’s clear as day Kyle only wears Maxi dresses, and a guy who is currently sitting in the salon of his closet should fucking know that.

lisa ken house closet

Lisa Rinna’s daughter asks who gave her the diamond earrings for her birthday and Lisa goes, “Harry Hamlin.” I’m pretty sure that since Harry Hamlin is this girl’s father, you could just say Harry and she’d get the picture. Hell, say dad! But Rinna’s giving Finding Nemo REALNESS right now and that’s truly all that matters.

lisa rinna lips beverly hills

Meanwhile Kyle’s upset that she was uninvited to Nicky Hilton’s wedding (which sounds like a fucking SNOOZEFEST anyway, girl), but what I’m upset about is the fact that Yolanda is going to get all her fillings removed. Look I get it, Lyme disease is shitty and ya gotta get better. But this shit is not my jam AT ALL.

As soon as she even says the word dentist my anxiety kicks in and my palms start sweating. She’s huffing that dope ass Nitrous, but seems to be having some kind of medical emergency and is kicking her feet around and I honestly might not be able to watch the rest of this episode. This is literally my goddamn nightmare.

yolanda dentist fillings

Once she’s fine and drugged to all hell she says to David, “Aren’t you happy you married me?” and he goes, “Thrilled.” Which is like, so much shade I can’t even right now. (A good time to note that Yolanda is worth more than David in this divorce and it’s like boom, roasted.)

Kyle and her family have been on a five-bedroom yacht for who knows how long getting all up in that Mediterranean. How much of a fucking CATCH is Mauricio. Seriously. He is aging like a fine wine and selling the shit out of $100 million dollar houses. Yummers.

Back in the United States of America Lisa Rinna is busting her daughter for having a crush on Yolanda’s son, on national television. Thanks, mom. Super neat.

Lisa and Eileen visit Yolanda and things take a turn “to the left, to the left.” –Beyonce. Daisy, Yolanda’s health specialist/fellow MUY BLONDE, decides it’s totally fine and ethical to show the girls Yolanda’s cabinet of medicine. This shit is so overwhelming that I bet Rinna is perusing that shelf going, “Please God have a Xanax handy.”

Look at this medicine cabinet. Look at how fucking proud of herself Daisy is:

yolanda medicine cabinet

Yolanda goes on to explain she had a parasite infection and some of them were TWO FEET LONG. Um, hi. If I have a TWO FOOT LONG ANYTHING swimming through my body I’m going fuck this holistic shit, I’m cutting my stomach open and ripping those suckers out myself. What the SHIT is she even talking about. I need more information.

Now Kyle and her family, Lisa and Ken, and mosquitoes sit down for a lovely evening under the Tuscan sun (Moon? Whatever.). Of course Lisa has to bring up this wedding shizz and here’s how thrilled everyone is about it:

alexia tuscany rhobh

She keeps saying things like, “Maybe I’m speaking out of turn, but-” and “Listen I don’t want to overstep boundaries, but-” Bitch COOL IT! Everybody is sick of it ESPECIALLY ALEXIA.

She’s had enough and this teenager basically says HEY MOTHERFUCKERS, SHUT THE HELL UP. Love it, love her. Alexia is not a basic bitch and she is NOT THE ONE.

Check out more of my show recaps here.

 

The Feminist Wolf

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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.

wolf military jacket feminist

Read more of my short humor pieces here.

Suicidal Math Teacher (The Downs and Downs of Mr. Greenwald)

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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.