Winter is NOT Coming

About two years ago, when I was bored and desperately seeking a new television show to get addicted to, I tried watching the irritatingly popular show Game of Thrones. Anyone who knows me is well aware that I am not one to stray from shows that have a wide-spread fan base. In other words, I am a firm believer in the philosophy: three million flies can't be wrong. If a lot of people like a show, on most occasions, I will enjoy it on some level (ironically or non-ironically). Television is my religion, and the TV guide is my bible.

I began watching the show with all these expectations that I would be instantly hooked and interested. However, my hopes and dreams were squashed when I was four episodes into the television series and still could not for the very life of me get through an episode in one sitting. By the fourth episode, I was taking five hour energy just to keep my eyes open through the opening credits. Unfortunately, five hour energy is no match to something as boring and snail-paced as Game of Thrones.

As it turns out, three million flies CAN be wrong, after all.

I gave up all hope in the show and abandoned it completely... well, not completely. Over the past two years following my initial viewing, I had phases where I suffered from insomnia. On those nights, I would flick on some Game of Thrones and I was good to go. No more NyQuil and no more Ambien for Jules. I got the best sleep of my life, all thanks to this medieval bullshit that you call entertainment. Thrones now served an important purpose in my life and I couldn't be more grateful.

Recently, with my insomnia days in my past, I ignorantly decided to give Thrones another chance. Most of the shows that I watched during the year have ended and I really needed something mindless to do with my time. I got seven episodes in this time around. I still came to the same conclusion: Game of Thrones sucks major ball sack.

Now, trust me, all of you pretentious people who insist that this show is not complete garbage, I know what you are thinking. You are thinking that I am "probably not clever enough to 'understand' the 'complexity' of the show." I have heard this nonsense before. I will have you know though, that this thought has crossed my mind. However, I quickly debunked this theory when I noticed all of the dumb biddies in my newsfeed flicking their beans to the show. How is it that the girl on facebook who does not know the difference between "your and you're" understands this "complexity" better than me? How is it that the guy whose one hero in life is Turtle from Entourage is able to understand Game of Thrones but I am not? Real questions, I pose 'em.

So what should we make of all of this? What arguably began as a hipster show has now been completely mainstreamed and, therefore, destroyed. Any self-respecting hipster will jump ship now if they want to salvage their reputation of being "different."

However, I suspect something a lot more disturbing is a-brewin' in the television world. I detect an outbreak of pseudo-intellectualism running rampant in these parts. This is a pseudo-intellectual movement that is causing a sense of elitism among the morons of our nation.

The questions we should really be asking are: when did television become "high-brow?" And, more importantly, why are we judged, not by the content of our character but...on the television shows that we watch? Why does my love for Real Housewives of Orange County make me any dumber than the half-wits that are watching Thrones?

So let's not get it twisted, just because you have the ability to sit through Game of Thrones, does not mean you have one brain cell to your name. All it means is that you are either a masochist or you are trying to get into some nerd's knickers.

I see you.

XOXO,
Jules

Guns Don't Kill People

...I kill people. Also, as it turns out, crazy people with guns do... quite often.

Now, I am not one to bring up tragic and serious issues. Mainly my blog consists of making fun of everyone and everything I can think of (with the exception of hot people and cute pomeranians). I usually leave the serious topics for the hipsters and the pseudo-intellectuals to discuss on THEIR blogs that NO ONE is reading. They like to use fancy words like "dystopia" and "bourgeois." I generally stick to basic words like "cunt" and "cooter" (and throw in the occasional "numb nut" when the mood calls for it).

When they are not complaining about Lana Del Rey not being a feminist, (OH MY GOD!!! THE HORROR!!!!!!!!!) they have some other boner killing topic to hash out. Thus, ruining all of our days and making us all want to kill ourselves. Cute.

However, it seems the topic of gun violence (which seems like a redundant phrase because isn't the whole purpose of a gun to inflict a violent action?) is inevitable. Each day brings a new story (but really, the same story over and over again). Someone who is just a WITTLE BIT unstable gets a hold of a lot of guns, they decide they have an important point to prove and then decide to kill a bunch of random people in order to make that point. Makes perfect sense, of course.

The recent shooting in Santa Barbara involved a gunman who was incredibly ornery about the fact that he was a 22-year-old virgin.

Do not waste your time reading his 142 page "Manifesto" that was ignorantly published by the New York Times.  This was the basic gist of why he did what he did. The whole time you will just be thinking, WILL SOMEONE JUST BANG THIS PSYCHOPATH ALREADY?! God.

All kidding aside, Elliot Rodger clearly suffered from clinical depression which seemed to never truly be addressed by either one of his parents. I suppose they had more important things to do like producing The Hunger Games and hang out with Jennifer Lawrence.

However, as usual, the media goes crazy, seeking information and details on the person responsible for all of these deaths. Thanks to the New York Times, we all know who Elliot Rodger is, when his birthday was, his favorite television show, where he went to school and even when his fucking last period was. Through our own doing, he receives the notoriety that he sought out to begin with. However, it is the victims of Elliot Rodger, that we know next to nothing about. I do not think I can name one person who he killed on that day.

There is no singular and no simple solution to what clearly is a disease of our society. Day after day more and more people cling tighter to their legally or illegally purchased guns with some nonsensical fantasy that not only will the gun save them from these "crazies," but that they also have some kind of a right to own it.

"BUT I HAVE THE RIGHT TO BEAR ARMS!!!!!!!" Okay, let us pretend for a second that that was not written a billion years ago. Even if you have that gun that you have a supposed right to, what is that gun really going to do for you when push comes to shove? Are you going to sleep with your gun under your pillow? Are you going to bring it in the shower? Are you going to bring your gun to the mall? To school? To the movie theatre? To the sorority/frat house to get your drank on?

Guns, if anything, give us all a false sense of security. Besides, I would rather tear the bitch's hair out and run her over with my lezbaru like a fucking lady. Ya know, the good ol' fashioned way.

The bottom line is, the argument that these shootings are not to be blamed on the guns but those who wield them is kind of silly. The fact is that the majority of people should not wield them (myself included). It would be a lot less simple to commit mass murder if we all had to resort to our steak knifes and eye-brow tweezers.

Think of all the people I would have shot by now... think of all the people.

XOXO,
Jules

Anger Management for a Young Biddy

Sorry about the brief hiatus. I was off doing biddy things and clearly (and ignorantly) shirking my responsibilities as the royal biddy queen. My crown is both a burden and a blessing, after all.

Ugh, my life is so hard!

Originally, I was going to write this entire post about the repulsive Kim Kardashian and her repulsive wedding with the repulsive Kanye West. However, amidst my throw-up, I found myself in an uncontrollable fit of rage. A rage that is not a stranger to the average young biddy. This was a rage that needed to be tamed and just could not be.

Why do such morally corrupt people procreate? Why can't gays have to suffer through marriage like heterosexual folk? Why do boys not get periods? Why is there so much injustice in the world? Question after question popped into my mind, thus fueling the biddy anger. The biddy fires were raging, but then, I remembered something key, something important. I remembered the dissertation I wrote on this very subject a few years back.

I cleverly titled it, "Biddy Anger management for Dumb Biddies." These are my five steps for any biddy who finds herself/himself on the verge of punting a cunt or two.

Step #1: Breathe in and breathe the fuck out.

I know it sounds cliche, but studies have shown that it is important to, you know, breathe. Oxygen apparently is a big deal in some cultures, so make sure that you are getting it.

Step #2: Unload the gun.

Listen, we have all been there. Let's just say, some dumb biddy you know has decided she would take it upon herself to go buy the same exact dress from Free People that you bought just days before (and no, contrary to popular belief, imitation is not the sincerest form of flattery... it is just fucking annoying). Instead of shooting her, there are some better options (but less enticing, nonetheless). For instance, you could break into her house, steal the dress and burn it. Another option could be stealing her pet pomeranian or pet parakeet to teach her a lesson. Or, perhaps, you could take the "high road" and return the dress.

BUT... for the love of everything holy, do not, I REPEAT, do NOT wear that dress. I am not trying to turn you into a doormat here, I am just trying to stop you from committing murder.

Step #3: Pour yourself a cocktail (or mock-tail).

A biddy needs to get her biddy drink on almost immediately after unloading the gun. Alcohol can be a beautiful thing, of course, however, that is not the important part of the drink. All that really matters is that the drink is pretty, we are biddies after all (virginal or slutty, it really does not matter). Malibu-bay breezes are good, Pina coladas are decent and Shirley Temples will work in a pinch.

Enjoy that cocktail, you have earned it. To be honest, if you made it to this step without getting arrested then you have already exceeded my expectations (and my personal abilities).

Step #4: Get your hair done.

Get it dyed, get a perm or get a fucking trim. Do WHATEVER you can so that you can immediately post a selfie to Instagram or Facebook and acquire as much attention as humanly possible. Receiving attention for looking hot over social media is extremely therapeutic. Try to round up as many likes as you can. Make sure you post the photo at the correct time during the day (not too early and not too late) in order to maximize your chances of getting likes. If no one likes it, re-post it again...and again and again and again, until they GET the picture. Everyone needs to know you got a haircut...EVERYONE!

Step #5: Write a blog post about it.

To bring closure to the problem that you are dealing with and to diffuse any residual anger you may have, even after completing the previous steps, you must take to your blog and talk massive amounts of shit about everyone and anyone who you can think of. This step is crucial. You must be catty as fuck, it is a requirement.

Now, I do not know about you, but I am feeling zen as fuck right now.

XOXO,
Jules