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No Facebook February

February 2013 is “No Facebook February.” Or so I have declared it.

 
I have been using Facebook to replace real friendships since the spring of 2006, as a senior in high school.

 
It followed me to college where I be-”friended” the entire University baseball team and weird Renaissance Club kids I never had any actual interest in talking to but was too nice and desperate for a larger friend count, to deny.

facebook_users_with_500_friends
I graduated from college and recorded the downfall of my “too-young-and-too-stupid-to-tell-the-difference-between-first-love-and-husband-material” marriage for two years; posting wedding photos, deleting wedding photos, quoting Bob Dylan lyrics, and depression-weight loss pictures.

 
Following up on that stellar life decision, I moved to Tennessee and used Facebook to screen romantic prospects, which didn’t help much when I was sitting in my living room with a drug addict musician whose only criteria for passing my Facebook screening was “liking” The Allman Brothers, revealed his recent release from a mental institution.

 
Moving back to Pennsylvania, Facebook kept me company as I bummed it on my mother’s couch for two months before getting a part-time job. It also continued to remind me of the incredible failure I am to the social advancements of the human race, with my lack of interest in interacting with anyone outside of a 2×2, blue and white chatbox.

 
It kept me relevant in random bar friendships, cultivated from my singular bar outing in 2012, when I moved to a new apartment, in a new town, where I had no friends, and no life plan beyond online dating and drinking alone.

 
But it lost its relevance when I fell in love with my able-bearded bodied man whose presence helped remind me of the value that could be contrived from life when real relationships were a larger focus than 2-dimensional cyber stalking.

 
Still it’s taken 7 months for me to stronghold the desire to break my Facebook habit, for me to actually do it. And even now I can only commit to a No Facebook February and not a No Facebook Life. I can only explain it with haphazard math that probably means nothing, but has to mean something, if you really think about it.

 
I have been on Facebook almost every single day for 7 years. I visit Facebook, admittedly, more than I visit my father, mother, brother, sister, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, friends, or toilet, combined, each day. If I’m keeping it real, maybe 15 times a day, adding up to approximately 3 hours each day, give or take a few. Now here’s the (estimated) math that gives me ulcers:

 
7 years x 365 = 2,555 days on Facebook
2,555 days x 15 visits to Facebook per day = 38,325 visits since I started

 

 

Which ultimately means:
2,555 days x 3 hours a day = 7,665 hours on Facebook

 
Which further means that over my last 7 years of life, I have spent 319 days on Facebook, which is easily the most depressing, stupidest decision, I have ever made in my life. And the worst part is?

 
I have NOTHING to show for it.

 

SO…

 

For the naysayers, the nonbelievers, the bored readers who tuned out when I started doing math. If you are a Facebook user, I encourage you to do the math on your own Facebook life.
I then invite you to take the No Facebook February Challenge with me.

Drink the Kool-Aid. Drink it down.

Drink the Kool-Aid. Drink it down.

I started 4 hours ago and it’s been interesting. I have already had to deny myself Facebook log-in three time. It’s been brutal.

So to entertain myself I’ve been coming up with band names for the indie/punk/emo/folk-rock group I’m starting as soon as I get fired and learn to play the ukulele. This is what I’ve got:

 

Stench of Saliva
Ted Bundy’s Mother
The Waffle House Whores
Asian Impregnation
Chest Day Motivational

Rock n’ Roll.

Love,

The girl who maintains that the world would be a better place if candles were edible

“Why I Hate Answering the Phone”: A Story About Work

Dear erratic possibly-possessed, asshole who called me today at work just to scream at me for 20 minutes (also known as Tom Johnston),

Thank you. I have been waiting for a reason to cry at work for months now, but I could never find one. I don’t know what I would have had to do if you hadn’t been transferred to my desk to interrupt my pleasant mood with your ill-conceived attempt at being a human being.  Thrown myself down a flight of stairs? Stapled my face? Nope. Didn’t have to. Your phone call made tears possible without self-mutilation, and I thank you for that.

I want you to know, that I appreciate all that you bring to the world. Your problems are my fault, really. I’m sorry I ever doubted the role I played in your 46 years of misery on this planet. Clearly if I could sacrifice my entire existence for one moment of your happiness, I would, but I am certain it would never be enough. So I’d like to apologize to you for your life.

I’m sorry. Truly I am. I am sorry that a GED has only earned you $150,000 working on Wall Street, (although a terrible fate for a high school drop-out, this could explain a lot about the downfall of the American economy). I am sorry that your son, the consumer of my company’s product, could not talk to you openly about his decision to purchase it. You are after all, such a warm and sensitive man. Any child would be poorly lacking without you in their life.36jq6y

But mostly, sir, I feel sorry for you. There, I said it. Because after I stopped crying and your intrusive phone call stopped replaying in my head, I went back to being me, and you are stuck being you, an overpaid, nasty, rapid baboon of a person, whose personal life is so out of reach your only solace is to interject 20 minutes of unprecedented rudeness into another person’s life, via telephone calls. I may make a quarter of what you make, with double the education, but I’m far better off than you’ll ever be.

Plus you’re a raging c***.

Love,

The girl too stubborn to hang up, too sensitive to brush it off

imagesCA0JQT1L

Letter to My Future Self

Dear Lena of January 2014,

I hope when you are reading this your hair is clean because today it is not. Today you look like Courtney Love had sex with a mongoose and then got extensions.

courtney_love

 

mongooooose

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So sort of like Nick Nolte.

 

nick-nolte-mug-shot

If Nick Nolte had sex with Steve Buschemi…

steve

and then grew a vagina

So like Charlize Theron in Monster.

monster

Only manlier.

Like Michelle Bachman on the cover of Newsweek.

michele-bachmann-eyes-celebs-0

How many images can I use in one blog post? 

More than this many kittens.  

kittens

 

Anyway.

 I have a lot of plans for how I’m going to become you; a year older, clean-hair version of myself with a satisfying life plan and less shame bestowed upon my family.  Here are some:

 1. Reduce my butt watermark – I haven’t gone swimming in several years and although I don’t have  a specific understanding of why, it might be because every time I have gone swimming and walked from a pool to a picnic bench, or a rock, or a bed, and sat down, I produced a monstrous butt watermark – the imprint  of wet ass cheeks in cheap spandex left behind on a seat. As a child I would giggle at this. As an adult I feel inclined to pull out a tape measure and survey it for prospects of fitting into an airline seat. I don’t need this kind of math in my life. So I’m going to lose weight.

2. Reduce my dependence and use of technology – I admittedly do not have much work to do on this in comparison to my peers. I don’t have a smart phone and never will. I don’t have cable, an e-reader, a camera, an iPad, or a reliable source for hot water. But in comparison to the previous eras I admire and wish to emulate, I suck like Kristen Stewart.*

I spend a ridiculous amount of time on the Internet. Like. I’m embarrassed. I can’t help it when I’m at work, but there is no reason I should go home and continue the cycle. I realize that the Internet is very valuable and without websites like Google I might never know that the search “how do people start letters?” is related to “when do men start balding?” but there has got to be more to life than allowing automated search engines to connect the dots for me. So I’m going to transition out of Internet time-suck.

 *This is not a vampire joke. Or a slut joke. But it does work well in both scenarios.

**I hope the person who told me they want more Kristen Stewart jokes is reading this. If not, I don’t see the point to my existence.

kristen stewart

 3. Finish my novel – It has been just over two years since I started my novel and now as I reach 50,000 words in I am on the slow decline. I can’t even joke about this. I am proud of it. When I read it I am happy not only with the writing but with the obvious evolution of self I have experienced in the two years since I started. So I’m going to finish this bitch once and for all, angry ex-husband style.*

*That was wrong.

 4. Continue my education – This plan has always been there but has recently evolved into something I didn’t quite expect. Like starting this blog or falling in love again. More to come about this but let me say I’m really excited.

 

Now Lena, of January 2014, these aren’t so much resolutions, with the inevitable implication that they will be forgotten in two weeks, as they are intended life plans. Therefore, I intend to create you quite beautifully with my ability to follow-through. Lena of 2012 gave me a pretty good year, so I’m going to try to pay it forward.

So you better reflect these efforts. Like Jennifer Hudson in Weight Watchers ads only less digitally altered.

Love,

 The girl who wrote you this letter

My Photographic Journey Through 2012

 

Last year I posted a blog entry at the end of January to depict my photographic journey of 2011 , and while no one read it including myself, there was something gratifying about commemorating all of the non-moments in my life at once. So I’ve decided to do it again for New Year’s Eve.

I can only hope you have found a better way to spend New Year’s than reading amateur WordPress blogs. But on the off chance that your life is as uneventful as mine, enjoy! Or at least pretend to.

January 2012

 

jan

 

At some point in January I decided that cleaning my purse was easier than dealing with arthritis in my shoulder the rest of my life. I photographed my efforts and now have concrete evidence that at any given time I can be found carrying items ranging in unimportance from detached bra under wires to opened and unusable tampons.

Oh. And that’s my foot in the corner. Not typically found in my purse.

 

February 2012

 

feb

While this photograph mostly represents my narcissism, I am including it because it also represents the beginning of a long and disappointing journey known as “Lena’s 2012 employment history.” In 2012 I held 4 different jobs ranging from coffee shop waitress/concubine, receptionist in an administrative office at a college, front desk receptionist at a hotel, and admissions representative at a tech school. Who says college is a waste of time?

March 2012

march

During the last week of February and first week of March, I volunteered in the Dominican Republic. I can’t make this funny. It was one of the most profound, fulfilling experiences of my life and I feel extremely lucky to have had it. Plus I got hit on a lot there…score?

 

April 2012

april

After convincing everyone in my office to buy raffle tickets from a student organization trying to save a sick llama, the universe had my back and helped me win this wine basket.

This is without question the most exciting thing that has ever happened to me. Or at least that is what I told the student who brought it to our office.

June 2012

may

“This looks like a whore house.”

My mother, as I dried my clothes in her kitchen.

 

June 2012

july

This was my Bob Dylan vinyl collection back in June. I have since added five more. For Dylan geeks the total includes: Times They Are A-Changin, Another Side of Bob Dylan, Bringing it All Back Home, Highway 61 Revisited, Blonde on Blonde, John Wesley Harding, Greatest Hits Vol 1&2, Nashville Skyline, New Morning, Before the Flood, Blood on the Tracks, Desire, At Budokan, Street Legal, Empire Burlesque, Real Live, Modern Times, Bootleg Series Vol. 4 (Live in 1966), and a VERY rare bootleg recording from the mid 60’s.

Bad ass.

July 2012

july 2

In July I was Freshly Pressed and it brought me greater pride than any other accomplishment of my life, including birth and learning how to read.

September 2012

september

I’m not sure if you heard, but there was this thing called Hurricane Sandy. Because I’m unbalanced and deeply afraid of heavy wind, despite the relative mildness of the conditions in my area, I thought it necessary to relocate my mattress into the living room where there are no windows, but quite prevalent feelings of being locked in a dungeon. Don’t even tell me this was overkill!

October 2012

 

october 3

I am a high/existential bee. I also throw great parties and enjoy practicing calligraphy in my free time.

October 2012

october 2

She was drunk again, smiling and laughing in his orange face. He was contemplating a murder-suicide.

Pumpkin love between me and my boo.

Pun INTENDED. Hehehe.

Someone take away my blog.

October 2012

october

My boyfriend and I are in some ways the same person, hold the genitals, or however I can more discretely put that. Nevertheless we are into things like all natural soap-making and even more into talking about how it makes us better than everyone. This is an example of how.

November 2012

november

So we sort of like each other.

“Do you love me even when I’m crazy?”

“I love you especially when you’re crazy.”

I can dig that.

 

December 2012

dec 4

Both of our tongues are sticking out. Need I say more?

December 2012

dec 2

Being better than everyone we meet is exhausting, as evidenced in this handmade “basket” of handmade products given to our families for Christmas. Soap, lip balm, air fresheners, jam, and inconceivable arrogance.

December 2012

december 5

I…I don’t know what is wrong with me.

December 2012

december

You know you’re 1/4 Italian when after a lifetime of cooking a traditional Christmas Eve family recipe you still have no idea how to spell what you are making. You know your mother is 1/2 Italian when she tells you she will disown you if you share the recipe.

December 2012

dec 1

“I can’t see the TV, there are too many presents in the way!”

…First world problems?

December 2012

december 6

There is currently a gigantic ice sickle in my freezer. I think I will keep it and use it as a weapon when a heroin addict inevitably returns to my apartment in search of the former tenant.

 

So long, 2012! Howdy, East Orange.

 

Love,

The girl with no (public) resolutions, but many (private) disappointments

 

Overcoming those “brown streaks of greasy lard hardened to the bottom of my crock pot” People in Life

A few months ago my sink was leaking. I asked my landlord to fix it, but he was too busy not replacing the bathroom door that is too big for the frame and fooling the zoning board into believing my apartment is large enough for safe occupancy, to get to it. So I ignored the problem and stuck the ceramic insert of my crock pot underneath the leak.

This was months ago.

The leak has since been fixed by the able-bodied, bearded man who lives there 3 days a week. But the crock pot remains, surrounded by discarded by plastic shopping bags and kitchen utensils the crack-dealing tenant who previously inhabited my apartment left behind, and I never threw away, out of either respect or laziness but probably apathy. That’s how unsanitary I am.

So now the watery animal fat residue that once filled the pot has evaporated leaving nothing but a few brown streaks of greasy lard, hardened to the bottom of the formerly useful cookware, that has since been condemned.

It’s magnificent.1204122132

….

There are moments in life when I feel like humanity, at its best, is no better than the brown streaks of greasy lard hardened to the bottom of my crock pot, resting peacefully beneath the sink. Like when media-induced pregnancy terms (see what I did there?) turn trendy, and fully-functioning intelligent people start saying things like “preggers” and “baby bump.” Like when children dress like hookers prowling stage corners in Southern gymnasiums waiting to be judged by a panel of adults and a near empty room and TLC broadcasts it calling it “reality” TV. Like when I’m met with the realization that there might be people like this that actually exist.

Untitled

I think you get my point.

Today at work, the able-bodied, bearded man sent me a link of an article on Huffington Post about  New York Post’s most recent cover story, and I was reminded of these feelings.  If you aren’t completely dead inside, you may want to cover your eyes:

o-NY-POST-COVER-570

Being that I’m not dead inside, looking at this completely horrified me.

The very existence of this photograph, not to mention its publication seems to prove my previous statement to be completely true. Humanity is no better than the brown streaks of greasy lard hardened to the bottom of my crock pot.

1. How could a person(among others) stand by long enough to take a photograph and not stop to help the man in need?

2. How could a person use this photograph of someone else’s last moments to further themselves by having it printed by a major publication?

3. How can enough editors at that major publication come to the joint conclusion that printing this is acceptable?

I don’t get why we as a race feed on the destruction of our own. I used to believe this resulted from some sort of conditioning we undergo by exposure to the ultra violent mainstream media that closer resembles Quentin Tarantino storyboards than legitimate journalism. But from the Colosseum, to public hangings, to CNN video clips of soldiers being beheaded, the only thing I can conclude is that this sickening voyeuristic need humans have to continue diminishing the value of their own lives by diminishing the valviolenceue of others, is somehow natural. Though it has been tempered by Western culture, it is prevalent enough to allow individuals privileged enough to land jobs at major publications, to collectively agree that this sort of thing is ok.

So, is it okay?

No. At least I don’t think so. Although history has proven that it is somehow common for humans to behave this way, I still believe it is only natural to some people. Like drug addiction or bad taste in music.

Even so, the rest of us are very stupid creatures. We continue to find shock value in the same things. We continue to reinvent political correctness instead of questioning why we have to reinvent it at all. In the case of this story, I know there will be backlash and anger and New York Magazine may lose sponsors or pull copies, who knows. But in the age of the Internet, what good will that do? The story is out there. The picture is out there. And as long as it’s there, we will bring attention to it. Like I am right now.

What we need to do is redirect our attention from the scum-sucking backwash of failed humanity, to the astounding ways humanity has and will continue to flourish. We need to forcibly detach ourselves from the things and people no better than the brown streaks of greasy lard hardened to the bottom of my crock pot, and do good. Be good. Promote good in ourselves and in each other. It won’t change things. Bad things will always happen and those people will always be their to exploit them. But they don’t have to exploit us.

Love,

The girl who means everything she says, despite the fact that she has no intentions of cleaning her crock pot.

At all.

***Though I could write a book on how strongly she detests the New Yorker after this but would rather try to keep it short and divert your attention to this.

 

Mitt Romney, Unplugged

Today while refreshing my “site stats” page and crying inside, I realized it has been a long time since I have incorporated Google search terms* into a blog post. I was sadenned.

I thought to myself, there MUST be a way to do this! But I have done just about everything with a Google search term, short of getting impregnated by one. Surely I could not come up with another way! But then it hit me…

Mitt Romney.

“Do you realize, Lena, that you are the only person who will find any of this funny?” I thought to myself, whilst navigating Paint on my company computer. And to that I say, “you know it, ho.”

So with that I give you this:  

Mitt Romney, Unplugged

 

 

I’m laughing. Even if you’re not.

 

Love,

 

The girl with classy but ghetto orangutan titties

*Google search terms that led people to my blog, taken verbatim from my site stats page

Results are In: I am NOT a Pretentious Shrew!

A few weeks ago I took a poll. Here are the results:

Because I have no concrete evidence of how many people actually participated in this poll, I can only speculate that with 183 subscribers, it was somewhere in the range of 6,072. In which case, I congratulate myself for having so many dedicated readers. There has never been a success in my life quite as remarkable as fabricated statistics.

The main thing I gather from these results is that the only thing people hate less than politics is calling me a pretentious shrew, which really is the mother of all compliments if you think about it. Yes. I can accept this world where beards are more important than love, and 50% of voters are completely indifferent to what I write. I accept it like I accept anything. Except Kristen Stewart. I don’t accept her. Not as an actress or as a human. That was not a vampire joke.

Anyhow. Thank you to everyone who participated in this. I appreciate your feedback.

And to those of you who did not, I invite you to stop being such a loser. It’s bad for your complexion.

Love,

 

The girl with a bad complexion

This Thanksgiving I am Fat and Grateful (these things are not related)

Obligatory image reminder that this post will at some point mention Thanksgiving. Also I drew this today at work. Be jealous.

They say that you know you’re gaining weight when black guys start hitting on you.

I’m not sure if anyone says this.

But I know I am gaining weight because aside from black guys hitting on me and the self-abusive conversation I have with myself each morning about the progression of my third trimester (I’m not pregnant), I recently got a speeding ticket. I know that is not a measurable factor here, but I have never been ticketed in the past. This is typically what happens when I get pulled over:

I lean out the window and ask, frantic and alarmed:

“IS EVERYTHING OKAY?!?!?!”

As if I am being pulled over to counsel him on marital troubles or American Idol voting techniques. He replies something about a child chasing a ball, and no crossing guard around, and federal imprisonment. I sigh, relieved, and hand him my license, unable to find my insurance or car registration.

After about 12 minutes of probing questions, among other things 😉 I am asked to avoid schools zones and any properties containing live, white children, and detour through the ghetto anytime I want to drive recklessly.

Pretty solid.

But unfortunately that only works when your body is not protruding past the restraint of your seat belt and your eyes aren’t being forced back into their sockets by pounds of cheek and eyebrow fat. Therefore I maintain that the only explanation for my receiving a ticket is the blubber effect. Definitely not the driving 53 in a 25. No. That can’t be it.

I’m blaming my weight gain on a number of factors, most of which I will not have the time or patience to tell you about. Here are three I can stomach. Hehehe. I’m so clever.

1. My ever increasing American guilt. Perhaps it is my preference to radical liberal politics over false patriotic conservative politics that results in the inordinate amount of time I spend each day mourning Middle Eastern people I will never meet. Not just because they’re dead. But mostly because they’re dead. This leaves me depressed and anxious and forced to resort to binging on food no Middle Eastern person would ever eat. Not just because they’re dead. But, really, mostly because they’re dead.

2. Sushi. When eaten by Japanese people or bulimic teenagers, sushi can be very healthy. But when eaten by an American woman at a Chinese buffet 10 minutes away from her house, once a weekend, sometimes twice, depending on how much she hates herself that day, it is not good. It is embarrassing. Not quite a “legitimate rape” comment, but definitely a “binders full of women.”

Too excellent to not be shared

3. Co-workers birthdays and other work-related food-oriented events. Every day in my office someone is either turning 50, hitting menopause, or inviting a politician to tour the school, all of which are equally disgraceful and handled with mass quantities of food. Even when I am trying to eat healthy I am bombarded with oatmeal cookies, or cheddar cheese slices, or Halloween candy hoarded away in my desk drawer. There is no escape!

I realize this doesn’t sound like a Thanksgiving Day post yet, but allow me to explain. My obsession with my weight sounds a little insecure. But I’m okay with that. In fact, I’m grateful that I am insecure and in a constant state of emotional anguish. Why? It keeps me from being a dick.

If you know anything about me, you know that the leading cause in my life is asshole prevention. If I lost weight and became confident and hot, I’d become even more self-involved and arrogant than I already am, and before you know it I’d be someone really evil like Kourtney Kardashian.

So to sum this whole thing up, this Thanksgiving I am grateful for many things.I am grateful for insecurities that keep me grounded. I am grateful for police officers that don’t tase me. I am grateful for the black guys who hit on me. I am grateful for my sister who is a registered dietician who will help me lose weight again. I am grateful for my boyfriend who I never talk about but exists quite fully in my life. I am grateful for the new wiper blades on my car.  But lastly I am  grateful for this, taken from the Facebook page of a person I actually know:

Doesn’t get much better than that.

Happy Thanksgiving everybody! I hope you are all grateful for something (me).

Love,

The girl who last year was thankful for assholes, but this year is thankful for mouths. Ew.

Things I hate PLUS a Poll – Because your vote counts…sorta

I am overwhelmed with hatred today.

That’s not really true.

I am overwhelmed with anxiety over completely irrelevant things, but am masking it as hatred to make me appear more in control of my life. Because somehow irrational hate seems more stable than irrational anxiety. Like Hitler. Only cuter.

This is incredibly offensive. I’m so, so, sorry.

So I’m thinking that airing my grievances to a world of uninterested readers will help validate my instability, allowing me to wallow in narcissism, and force my beliefs upon others. Like Jehovah’s Witness. Only better. Way better.

Here we go.

Reasons Lena is Irrationally Hateful Today

1. People who talk about how sarcastic they are:

It’s like skinny girls calling themselves fat or Republicans calling themselves human. If you have to make a point of telling someone how sarcastic you are, you obviously are not very good at achieving true sarcasm. Unless you are being sarcastic when you say you are sarcastic, in which case, I feel great admiration for you, you clever little minx!!!

…but no one does that.

Ever.

You, faceless woman, do not deserve to exist

2. #Hashtags:

I hate hashtags more than I could ever have anticipated hating anything.

There is nothing more disrespectful to the evolution of human communication than composing a barely intelligible statement about something completely irrelevant to humanity and following it with a hashtag to further explain what you failed to capture to begin with.

***UPDATE:  I just spent the last 15 minutes reading my own tweets and falling in love with myself. Apparently, there is something more disrespectful to the evolution of communication than hashtags–my existence.

3. Black Nail Polish

I don’t understand this trend, nor do I understand trends beyond the point of rejecting them on impulse. But the black nail polish trend makes me uncomfortable. Why? Because it’s ugly and ugly things shouldn’t exist outside of science fiction novels and Jersey Shore cast parties.

So why, sorority girls of the world? Why do you wear black nail polish? You look like you belong on The Hills. And if you aren’t familiar with The Hills, it is that really awesome TV show about why we should bomb California.

JK,  Brian Wilson!

Ok, so I realize these aren’t exactly earth-shattering revelations but I don’t have a lot of intellectual stimulation these days. Therefore, I am conducting the first and probably last, depending on the outcome, Girl with the Blog poll and I would like each and everyone of you to participate.

If you select “Other”, please explain yourself in the comments section. I will be waiting patiently on the edge of my seat.

Thanks!

Love,

The girl who ate 50 calories worth of Ice Breakers in the last 20 seconds

Wasting My Vote Like I’m Getting Paid For It – Third Party Candidates in Two Party America

So after months of bewilderment at the amount of seemingly unprovoked political postings on Facebook, my only source of human interaction, I have finally discovered the root cause of all the unwanted opinionated goobledygook that I for one, have in no way…

whatsoever

…at all

…even remotely participated in.

So evidently the United States Presidential election is taking place in 11 days.* I know, right? I’m totally buggin.’

Now I’d venture a guess that there are plenty of numb-minded Americans feeling overwhelmed by the vast amount of choices they have for this election:

(L) – Barack Obama (R) – Mitt Romney
*whoops!* I mean — oh, forget it

 Pretttty sizable, I’d say.

But considering the fact that the outdated Gallop poll survey I am using to make my point says 37% of Americanscan’t find America on a map** (“Map? It’s on your lapel, silly!”)…

Real Americans wear lapel pins

I think it’s safe to say, most Americans probably don’t know there are even MORE choices for the Presidential election this year.

So for those of you with enough free time to read my blog, but not enough to stay informed on American politics, continue reading for a quick and easy breakdown of the unpopular, but determined third party candidates running for President, despite continued efforts from the media to pretend they don’t exist, like the missed period of an unmarried Catholic teen. And for those of you who think I’m too pretentious to handle, please blow up my comments with derogatory feedback.  

 Gary Johnson – Libertarian Party

 Arguably the most popular third party candidate this election season, Gary Johnson has successfully tapped into the impenetrable Ron Paul fan base. As the former New Mexico Governor, Gary Johnson is a fiscally conservative, socially liberal candidate. He is an advocate for civil liberties, marriage equality, drug decriminialization, and slashing the federal deficit in the first year through cutting government programs. He would repeal the Patriot Act, the National Defense Authorization Act (NDAA), among other unconstitutional acts.

Visit his website for more specifics: www.garyjohnson2012.com

Jill Stein – Green Party

Green Party candidates have a long history of upsetting Presidential elections and if my vote means anything, this year’s candidate will too. Jill Stein is long-time physician, educator, and activist. She has developed “The Green New Deal” which focuses on economic reform through green technology, is vehemently opposed to the War on Drugs, would like to add an ammendment to the constitution stating that coorporations are NOT people, repeal the Patriot Act and NDAA, and stop all use of military drones. Basically, she’s a BAMF.

visit her website for more specifics:  www.jillstein.org

Rocky Anderson – Justice Party

WTF is the Justice Party? I know. That’s what I thought too. The Justice Party is a liberal political party formed to get former Democratic Mayor of Salt Lake City, Rocky Anderson on the 2012 Presidential ballad. Rocky is a strong supporter of LGBT rights, climate protection, immigration reform, civil liberties, and the decriminalization of drugs. He was also the only mayor of a major city to pursue the impeachment of George W. Bush. Whoa.

Visit his website for more specifics: www.voterocky.org

Virgil Goode – The Consitution Party

Probably the closest third party candidate to a traditional Republican (ie. not Mitt Romney), Virgil Goode is the only candidate who has proposed to put a moratorium on Green cards for immigrants, which he advocates quite proudly. He is in favor of an immediate governmental budget balance, is consistently pro-life, wants to eliminate foreign aid, and audit the Federal Reserve. His accent’s pretty cool, too.

Visit his website for more specifics: www.goodeforpresident2012.com

It’s hard to believe that four experienced, politically active candidates continue to get so little attention from mainstream media, but Ashton Kutcher is also the highest paid actor on TV, so apparently injustice comes in many forms.

Chuck Lorre has written this exact scene on at least 36 occassions, whilst swapping out the “actors” for younger, less impressive models. Way to be innovative Chuckles!

All four candidates recently participated in the Free and Equal Elections Foundation debate, hosted by Larry King.

Watching it quickly helped me confirm who Iwould be voting for, despite the fact that I voted for Barrack Obama four years ago, and would rather die than refer to Mittens as President Romney. Because if there is anything I have learned since voting in my first Presidential election it’s this:

Voting for someone makes me at least partially responsible for whatever they do, good or bad, during their Presidency.

While this is about as obvious as a stage whisper, it seems like most people forget this during the sensationalized politics of a Presidential election. But the fact of the matter is, the last guy I voted for not only re-signed the Patriot Act and maintained Guantanamo Bay, but he also utilizes drone warfare, killing far too many innocent civilians in the Middle East, signed into action the National Defense Authorization Act which allows the government to indefinitely detain U.S. citizens without charge or trial, and apparently has Nicki Minaj on his iPod. Ya’ll know I can’t deal with that shit.

And unfortunately Romney too, supports all of the above. Except maybe the Nicki Minaj thing. He seems like more of a Celine Dion guy to me.  

So just between you and me, I don’t really care who wins. If Obama wins we’ll continue to have a “hip” President who likes gay people and playing basketball, when he’s not violating our civil liberties. If Romney wins, the Oval office will have that nice, slimy, used car salesman feel to it again, perhaps helping people to wake up to the realization that both Democrats and Republicans sold out to corporate interests a long time ago, and the only real definiable difference is the size of their lapel pins.

Think about it.  When the dust settles on the election, and we have either a President Obama or a President Romney actively recanting every promise they made, as history indicates they most definitely will, do you want to know that you contributed to allowing them to do that?

Though it should go without saying, voting for the lesser of two evils is like choosing to drown a baby instead of setting it on fire.  My question is, why not choose not to kill the baby at all? 

We are Americans. Most of us already have no integrity by default. All I ask, is that this election season, we vote with a little intergrity.

WE VOTE NOT TO KILL THE BABY!!!!

Love,

The girl who throws her votes away like crushed dreams and used underwear

*This is a lie. I knew there was an election.

**To be fair, I’m pretty sure this survey included babies, the blind, and people from Arkansas.