The Hero We’ve Been Waiting For. The Hero We Deserve.

OhMyGoodness Guys.

I have SUCH GOOD NEWS.

For the past two years, nearly everyone, on all quadrants of the political spectrum, have been living in existential dread. Overwhelming percentages of people have expressed a grave distrust in our political situation, and the entire world seems to have the same problems: political systems are hopelessly corrupt and no party seems to have the answer, nor do they have a single good-hearted candidate to bring people together.

But you already know all of this. It’s been a painful 18 months for all of us. So let’s not rehash why we need a hero in these trying times.

But I have delightful information to share with you.

We.

Have.

That.

Hero.

She’s come from a faraway place to save us all. She has a secret plan, and she’s going to unite us when no one else could.

That hero is Miley Cyrus.

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That’s right. Miley has put to bed her twerking, ball-riding, body-baring ways. Miley has mounted a knight’s steed on springs, and she is sure that she will be able to help her solve all our problems.

In a recent interview with Billboard (warning – she has not put away her language), Miley has shared that she is so committed to her cause of saving the world that she’s even sacrificed her adoration of drugs to do it. She’s completely clean, she exclaims, shocked at her own superhuman abilities…

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That’s right, y’all. TWENTY-ONE days of self-sacrifice from the depths of her heart to assist in saving the nation. But why Miley, you may ask? What is it about her specific set of skills that makes her our perfect hero? In her words (re: the day after the election)…

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That’s right. She’s gonna glue this place back together with her magical talent of being from the magical state of Tennessee. God did not give us very many people with this set of abilities. Thank goodness Miley is willing to use hers for good.

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And HOW exactly is she going to accomplish rebuilding our nation into one of likemindedness and American Utopia with her Tennesseean Superpower? Well. I hate to unearth Miley’s ground-shattering plan, but since she’s already done it, I’ll share it here with you, in the words of the great political commentator, TooFab

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It all makes perfect sense. All we have to do to change the world is have a 24 year old superhero be willing to jump into her phone booth and transform from this…

Screen Shot 2017-05-08 at 3.18.30 PMThey’re staring right at me how can I hear your politics

To this…all for us.

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All of American Goodness and Sanity is wrapped up in one woman’s clothing choices. And I, for one, have never seen a dress that made me more willing to agree with someone’s every political opinion. This is the answer we’ve all been waiting for.

Miley for President, y’all.

Please Sell Me Beachfront Property in Wyoming.

Something about the marketers that have been trying to reach me lately has seemed a bit…off. So I saved their ads. For us to discuss.

Do I wear a hair tie around my wrist most days? Yes. Is Facebook secretly videotaping me so that they are aware of this behavior? Probably. Are we seriously to the point where we need jewelry that solely functions as a hair tie holder? Oh I do hope not.

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But I admit it – I clicked. Because I had to read more about this.

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Let’s break this down.

  • If your hair tie is dingy, your hair tie is dingy. Placing a dingy hair tie on a rose gold bracelet does not change the property of said hair tie. As shown in every photo ever of Trump’s NY Penthouse, gold does not a classy look make.
  • Worry-Free. “Go throughout the day worry-free.” My GOODNESS this bracelet has high standards. Because yes, my biggest worry every day is most definitely whether the spare hair tie I have is displayed in a stylish location.
  • And am I glad to see that it comes with a Certificate of Authenticity. There are creeper vans set up on every corner in Birmingham selling knock-off versions of this nineteen dollar work of genius.

But let’s move on to much wiser ways to spend our First World money.

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I will feel so much safer on the beach this summer if I’m wearing Teapot Block. I mean, look at Mrs. Pott’s complexion. It’s like fine china!

And then there was this.

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I mean, I definitely have stretch marks. And I think they might even qualify as tiger stripes. But if they looked this amazing, I’d proudly show that mess off!

(Maybe she was just a bit streaky when she put on her Teapot block.)

But perhaps if I sat like this while I drank my smoothie, my stretch marks would magically melt away!

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Please everyone take a minute and attempt to make this exact pose while sipping a drink that doesn’t have a straw. It’s literally impossible.

I saw this product at my once-a-year visit to Wal-Mart.

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Who sees…

a) Ripple
b) Nipple

Survey says….it’s totally nipple milk.

I feel like the Arby’s marketing team was located in a state where pot was legal when they came up with this utterly brilliant catch phrase…

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I hear they hired the same marketing firm that promoted this amazing individual.

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I get Mickey Mouse or Peppa Pig. But if you can be Batman OR Elsa, you’re worthy of a phone call.

These people reached out to me – clearly I really should have taken them up on their amazing offers. Or should have just responded with an annotated version of their letter – marked up with all of their spelling and grammatical mistakes.

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I love Amazon. I live on Amazon. I really do. But I don’t like Alexa (I have Siri! Why do I need Alexa? And she’s totally a Russian spy), and furthermore, this new version of their household stalker is just downright creepy.

IMG_6554 sDidn’t feel like you were giving The Great Powers That Be enough information with their listening-in devices? No problem! Now you can add a camera to it! Be sure to keep it somewhere central so that you can be surveilled as efficiently as possible.IMG_6555 s

At first, it seems like they’re trying to put Instagram Husbands out of business. Who needs a dude to take that 500th photo for the ‘gram when you have Echo Look?

But no. They’re trying to off Instagram Wives.

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Yeah. This is totally for men. Obviously not marketed toward women. That guy totally has a personal lookbook of his outfits of the day. #OOTD.

I’ve got total FOMO (Fear of Missing Out, for those of you who don’t keep up with the latest Internet abbreviations) on this one. Am I the only one that doesn’t have $96 heeled bedroom shoes?

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I guess if I were more of a chemise and robe girl, I’d totally understand.

 

This billboard is in Birmingham, confusing me on the regular.

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Are we trying to,

a) Keep hot dogs out of hospitals (do most hot dog choking situations happen within hospitals? Because if so shouldn’t we keep hot dogs in hospitals because that’s a really convenient place to find a Heimlich Helper?)

b) Install anti-hot dog devices in patient’s throats to prevent future hot dog scenarios?

c) Lock all at-risk hot dog eaters up into a non-hot-dog cell to keep them from being able to reach their torpedo of deadly meat?

(Disclaimer: As a child, I choked on hot dogs so often that my mother peeled all of my doggy dinners. So clearly I should be ALL FOR this movement.)

By degree, I am an accountant. I am not, however, a Certified Management Accountant. But OBVIOUSLY, every CMA I know uses this exact method to flaunt their superiority. And seeing it totally makes me want to earn one.

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CMA®: Professionals so very committed to their jobs that they have nothing in their lives that is more notable to tat.

The Robin Hood of Animal Memorialization.

There’s been a serious dearth of opportunities for roadkill kit utilization lately. And it wasn’t for my lack of looking for those to memorialize eternally – I had been keeping my eyes especially alert for a rabbit all through March and April, as I had a set of tiny Easter Eggs that really needed a job. The only rabbit I saw took five careful drive-bys to determine that he was missing his head.

Seriously…where is his head? Is it curved under? Turned funny? Under his stomach? Okay there’s his neck nevermind.

So Easter passed without me being able to get a festive photo with which to celebrate. I tried to justify my failure.

At least I got St Patrick’s Day pictures

I was super happy for the Animal Kingdom, as it appeared that the tide had shifted and they were beginning to win The War on Cars. So there was that. But my alt-dead Instagram account had been sitting idly by…sad, lonely, and feeling all the feels.


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Finally, on the day we were leaving for the beach, I got a text from neighbor Not-Crazy-Renee. She’s always good for a tip. And this one was better than most – there was an opossum within walking distance of my house – one who died on a hill (as usual.) ‘Possums take that metaphor very literally.

I quickly grabbed some supplies, my rubber gloves, and my camera, and went on a walk. I decided that, since it was only 5 days past Easter, I could still work the holiday into my theme.

I quickly scattered the eggs, looking right and left, worried that my neighbors would see me. I didn’t want to get called out on the Next Door forum with a passive-aggressive note about “people who leave novelty items by dead animals.”

I wished I’d brought a tiny Easter basket along, but snapped my pic anyway and as casually as possible, walked back to my own house.

Alabama-Easter-PossumIn case anyone was wondering why their baskets were sparse this year, it looks like the Alabama Easter ‘Possum got a bit…waylaid.

Just a couple hours later we left for the beach, and I about flipped with paranoia when we passed by and all the eggs were gone, but the possum was still there.

WHAT HAD HAPPENED TO THE EGGS.

Do I have that tidy of neighbors that went out and carefully collected the tiny Styrofoam eggs because they prefer their neighborhood roadkill to be free of extraneous objects?

Just before I had a mini panic attack, I noticed bright colors in the gutter. The eggs had been blown and scattered by passing cars.

Sigh of relief.

There were no acceptable animals on our way to the beach, but just as we were almost home, I spotted what I’d been awaiting for so long: A fresh, uncrunched armadillo.

Although he was kindly on the side of the road and there was plenty of margin to work with, he was beside a busy road. And I really do prefer to work in solitude.

I nervously got out of the car and pretended to be taking pictures of the extremely unremarkable bushes behind him until there was a break in traffic. I decided to attempt a literary prop first.

Armadillo-Livin-on-a-PrayerLivin’ on a prayer.

But the wind was high and quickly knocked the book over. And it just didn’t quite portray the aura that this particular Armadillo was giving off. He seemed to be more of an outlaw than a man of the cloth.

So I grabbed my second prop, waited again for traffic to stall out, then set up my next pose with great speed. I’m a freakin’ Olan Mills when it comes to scene changes.

Desperado-the-ArmadilloDesperado the Armadillo has been out riding fences for so long now….he’s a hard one…
…but he’s got his reasons.

Yes. This was what he was meant to be. I left the gun with him (for protection from roadkill snatchers, obvs) and sprinted back to the car, hoping to jump in and have Chris gun the engine before I was spotted.

And, as it turns out, my paranoia was totally on point, because I had this conversation with another neighbor, let’s call him Freddy-The-Neighbor (because his name is Freddy) later that week….

 

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I seriously better lawyer up. Because apparently, I’m the Desperado here.