All posts for the month August, 2013

To Twerk Or Not To Twerk

Published August 31, 2013 by WELCOME TO HEIDI

Recently, I found out that my backyard neighbor is an extremely accomplished DJ. I’m pretty sure his name is BevMo. But I could be wrong. Because I am 100 years old. Bevmo travels around the world mixing his unlistenable music with other peoples unlistenable music and stands on a stage as he blends together these two unmelodious melodies for tens of thousands of people. People love this guy. He’s a music god. And I’m not gonna lie – he’s very very sexy. But I am officially at the age where his music is the sound that makes me say “can someone turn that down?” He makes 14 million dollars a year. And that is an assload of money. Which is ironic because that is exactly what Bevmo is known for… the ass… or TWERKING. And for those of you who just said – what’s that? – just look at what Miley Cyrus did to Robin Thicke’s crotch at the VMA’S and you’ll know. The official definition of twerking is “to dance to popular music in a sexually provocative manner involving thrusting hip movements and a low, squatting stance.” I think it’s like a reverse Elvis Presley? Or the twist with a twist? All I know is, I’m not gonna be doing that. Twerking is what people with cellulite DON’T DO. It is also a word that has been added to the Oxford Dictionary. And for that, I am ashamed. Not that I’m old, but that we’re dumb. I love our millennials and all but if they could cut back on the dopey phrases I find myself even using – maybe Oxford could cut back on the asinine additions to the dictionary. Like these:

• cake pop
Really? Are we going to put every retarded food item we come up with in the dictionary? I’d like to add CroNut.

• FOMO, n.: fear of missing out:
I haven’t even heard this one. Does that mean I’m fomo?! Oh fuck no!

• guac, n.: guacamole.
You lazy fucks.

• MOOC, n.: a course of study made available over the Internet without charge to a very large number of people.
Uhm. No idea what you’re talking about.

•omnishambles, n. (informal): a situation that has been comprehensively mismanaged, characterized by a string of blunders and miscalculations.
Huh? Say it again slower.

• phablet, n.: a smartphone having a screen which is intermediate in size between that of a typical smartphone and a tablet computer.
No one is fucking using this.

• selfie, n. (informal): a photograph that one has taken of oneself.
Erg. Annoying. We even wrote this one in a script. Double Erg.

• space tourism, n.: the practice of travelling into space for recreational purposes.
Okay seriously shut the fuck up.

• vom, v. & n. (informal): (be) sick; vomit.
As in what this entire list makes me want to do.

As a writer I always hope to influence people, and sometimes even make up words that will one day make it into the lexicon of the universe. I had truly hoped that word would be FuckTard. But I didn’t get credit for it back when I started using it so…. I’m working on a new word. It may even have it’s own dance. Stay tuned.

Fart Blanche

Published August 25, 2013 by WELCOME TO HEIDI

I like to burp. Out loud. As loud as possible. And hopefully, if I’m with the right kind of people, have those people – grade those burps – on a scale of 1 to 10 – ten being the best – obvi. I am not embarrassed by the belch. Even the words for the action are funny. I enjoy letting funny words come out of my mouth – so why not a burp? The truth is, I am almost incapable of holding a burp in. I’ve tried it, but it’s just so unsatisfying and quite frankly, so unnatural. Holding in a burp, to me, is kind of gross. Why should I have all that whatever that is trapped in my mouth. Yuck feh. To me, the sound of someone holding in a burp is completely disgusting. Old gassy people do that. I’m not an old gassy person. Yet. Any day now. Ew. I’m not kissing that. It’s still in there. Floating around. Dancing on your tongue. It seems to me that burps should get out – be given a gas-port, and be set free – let loose into the world – to bubble off and drift somewhere over someone else and maybe make that someone else laugh, even though they didn’t even hear it. If I want to have a really good time with a burp – I will drink a soda. I try not to do this too often because it is rather disturbing. Nothing can explain the level of noise that comes out of my mouth after carbonation has entered. My friend Ben always pretends to clean his classes off after I’ve set a soda burp free – like he just got splashed in the face with mud after a truck drove by. I found out the other day that my friend Joshua can burp on command. I find nothing cooler. It is, in fact, one of the things I wish I could do. Everyone tells me it’s easy. Just swallow air. I’ve tried. I’ve failed. It’s not that easy. If it were, wouldn’t everyone do it? If I could burp actual words – I would know the full experience of being the coolest person on the planet.
Oddly enough, the same rules do not apply when it comes to the other end of gas – the ass – or, the cute little word we’ve given it – the fart. This is a sound that should never be heard in public – and if it is – and heard from my behind – I would die a thousand deaths. I do not want my wind blowing in the… well… wind. Setting a fart free is not cute, funny, and should most definitely not be graded. But I wonder why that is? Why do we not have “fart blanche?” While I love to ingest things that make me burp, I quickly cross off things that make butt wind, especially since as I get older, controlling that end, seems to be more difficult. If you walk into my house in the morning – you will quite possibly hear the 1812 Overture – and yes – it is satisfying – but it is also hideous. People tell me stories all the time about having to fart on a date – and how they’ve managed to quietly do it and get away with it, except for one friend, who let one fly after his date got in the car then accidentally pulled the fart into the car after him as he quickly tried to close his door behind him. There’s a lot of work involved in keeping flatulence bottled up. Maybe it’s time to lift the ban on ass gas and start grading the sounds that escape us when we least expect it. You guys go first. Tell me how it goes.