2010 January » CoupleDumb

WTF of The Week: Heidi Montag

Jan 302010

Big boob, no brains and the inability to move her mouth. The perfect woman.

          CoupleDumb tends to be politically consistent. We advocate personal responsibility, communication and healthy love. In politics, we basically do the same. We support choice only because we hold everyone responsible for their lives. It is not our call. Any other decision is based on a victim mentality that we do not support. Now that we spouted all this hippy bullshit, what does that have to do with Heidi Montag?

          Apparently, Heidi decided that she needed an overhaul. She had a nose job revision, mini brow lift, ears pinned, lipo on her neck, chin reduction, Botox all around her face and fat injected in her cheeks and nasolabia folds. She had her breast implants increased to DDDs, a butt augmentation and lipo on her stomach and thighs. Apparently, her palms and elbows were untouched. So the question is, so what? Everyone is up in arms over the young ingénue’s remodeling and feel that she crossed a line. So explain to us, if you respect the right a woman has to choose, why can’t this poor girl refurbish her own body? Heidi tells of how ugly she was and how she was mocked and told she had a Jay Leno chin. She was hideous and worthy of at least 3 paper bags over her head.

          If you believe in the right to choose then you must support Heidi’s right to have funbags that serve as flotation devices. If you believe a woman is the master of her own body then you must keep your mouth shut when Heidi chooses to get the post lobotomy look special. By the way, does the mini brow lift mean she only lifts one eyebrow. Let’s face it, she looks like someone just gave her a math problem with trains and apples.

          So Heidi, CoupleDumb, to maintain its integrity, supports your decision to Frankenstuff yourself. However, we will insist that you not speak about inner beauty or anything deeper than the smooth ridges on your brain. You see, when you try to justify your surgery, then you sound like a bigger idiot and that vacant look is not helping. Perhaps the surgeries also included a sphincter reroute to your mouth. So shut the fuck up and get your boobies to the size where you can no longer hear people talking about you. Because if you thought people talked shit before, it will only get worse. Perhaps you can have the surgeon install a disguise. Maybe a mustache and a club foot.

Zombies in the closet and other things that are true.

Reader's Questions

Jan 292010

Not crazy. Multitasking.

          Have you ever wanted something and have known that if you have it ‘All would be right in the world’? Have you ever thought ‘I need to do this one more time so that everything will work out’? Have you ever not gone somewhere or done something because of a ‘bad feeling’? Have you ever looked at other people who think you are crazy as if they are the ones who are crazy since they don’t do the same things you do? Welcome then to Crazyville where in our world the population is two.

          Lee says: I have no shame in my game. I do some crazy things. However, all of my crazy things come with a great explanation or trauma attached, thus they are not only justified but entertaining. And, if you think about it, isn’t that what we all want? So here is my crazy list.

          Shower in the morning and before bed. No exceptions.

          The closet door must be closed so the dead can’t come out and touch you.

          The blinds or curtains must be closed at night completely lest you run the risk of seeing a A. alien. B. monster. C. zombie alien or D. zombie alien posing as an intruder.

          I must wear something red if I need luck that day.

          Never eat a dairy and citrus. Orange ice cream is an abomination.

          If I see a lizard, it will be a good day. If the lizard thinks I’m cute and tries to attract me with his red air sac, the day will be fantastic.

See, I’m perfectly normal.

          Paul responses: I do not mind the showers because it makes her smell good and I get to see her naked but I could do without her waking me in the middle of the night so that I can shower. The red undies are sexy. The closet, blinds and dairy thing are accurate. Everyone knows that they are true. Duh. I don’t like lizards.

          Paul says: OK, now my eccentric normalities.

          Snakes make me scream like a little girl.

          Frogs are snake heads with legs.

          When we got married, my biggest fear was that someone would trip. To be honest, it was that someone would be embarrassed. I just think that falling and breaking your teeth would be very embarrassing.

          My feet do not touch the floor in the morning unless the time is at the hour, half-hour, or quarter hour. For example, if it is 7:17, I will not get up until 7:30. If I miss it and the clock moves to 7:31 then (whoowhoo!) I get to sleep until 7:45. As far as I am concerned, this is not at all crazy. It is just a way to regulate my life such that everything in the universe stays properly in order. Some may call is obsessive. I call it responsible.

          Lee’s response to Paul’s ‘eccentric normalities’: Right. Normal.

          The snake and frog thing would not be a big deal if we didn’t live in the sticks, near the largest swamp in the United States (the Everglades) where the little buggers roam free. Hearing the girly scream makes me think zombies aliens have arrived and want my luggage. Oh, did I mention I have a weird luggage fetish? Maybe I’ll elaborate in some future post.

          As for the tripping/embarrassment fear, geesh! We were getting married. If you’ve seen some of the pics on Facebook you will see we had a fairly large wedding. I handled everything. And while I stressed over the minutia like food, music and booze, Paul apparently was in charge of inane worries and neurotic fears.

          As for the time thing, I call it lazy.

The Tale of Crazy Betty

Relationship Rejects

Jan 282010

It's the Mickey hand that makes her crazy.
          Sit down boys and girls as we tell you the tale of Betty. She is a cashier at our local large chain pharmacy. (The names have been changed to protect the cuckoo.) Or, as we like to call her, Crazy Betty. Of course we would never call her that to her face, not that she would notice since her unhingement has long supplanted her ability to read others affect.

          Paul says: Crazy Betty carries on one conversation all day and this discussion is evenly distributed over every customer that has the zany fortune to end up in her line. Notice that I did not say that it was a misfortune because there is nothing wrong with being caught up in Crazy Betty’s craziness short of a mild sensation of disorientation, kind of like that moment when you first notice that you have a good buzz going.

          Since they sell both milk and diapers, their prices are reasonable and they are open 24hours a day, I find myself at this pharmacy quite often. Being that Crazy Betty works something like 16 hours a day, I end up in her line all the time. At this point I think that I seek her out like my own disheveled pusher.

          ‘Can you tell that he works for the Renaissance Faire?’ she asked me one day. These were the first words that she had said to me that day so I had no clue who ‘he’ was and, to be honest, I could not tell that he works for the Renaissance Faire. Apparently this was a continuation of a conversational thread that she had started some four customers before me. She continued talking with no obvious acknowledgement that she had just asked me a question, all the time ringing up stuff to put into my 2 year old and stuff to catch what comes out. I smiled, paid, and, with a feeling that I was just in an intense conversation but no memory of saying any actual words, I left. As I was leaving I heard her saying to the next customer, ‘he’s always loved sword fighting’.

          Crazy Betty is an example of neurotic, not psychotic, though she hovers at that line, hanging ten like a world class surfer. She has found a job where her particular form of eccentricity is actually a boon. No one complains about Crazy Betty because she is nice and fun, albeit a bit dizzying. Here she gets to talk constantly, never letting the fear filled silence set upon her, and she gets kudos for her enthusiasm.

          I’m a big believer in embracing our craziness, of walking right up it, putting an arm around its shoulder and giving it a big hug. The little everyday crazies are the windows into the more important things of our psyche. When I confess my belief in omens, what I am actually saying is that I trust in the divine to guide me. Crazy Betty’s need to talk is her way of keeping in contact with the real, non-imaginary, people of the world. It is a small acknowledgement of her need to connect with humanity. That little nuance is the difference between neurotic and psychotic. Like the old saying: Neurotics build castles in the sky. Psychotics live in them.

          Lee says: One day, Crazy Betty said around me (she rarely talks to you) ‘You know he is the best Dad I have ever seen.’ I noticed she was directing her randomness to the other checker who also seemed caught in the headlights. I smiled and made sure Ricky was on one side and Bobby on the other. ‘Hey’, she said waving at me, ‘their father is the best Dad I said.’

          Wow! This is where I refined my diagnosis of Crazy Betty. She actually did have some semblance of understanding with reality. She knew my husband and that he often frequented the store. She made an opinion about him based on his care of his kids. She could step out of her ramblings long enough to judge Paul’s parenting. Her verbal diarrhea was really nothing more than the lonely ramblings of someone with anxiety issues. And, she was right about him too!

          Crazy Betty had marketed her crazy for the perfect career as a cashier at a large pharmacy chain. Most people walk in there feeling sick ready to pick up a prescription and Crazy Betty pulls you out of your ‘I’m Sick’ pity party and you get a glimpse at the machinations of an addled mind and think as you leave ‘Wow, at least I’m not that sick!’