Woman Gets Shred of Sanity Back During Commute

Greetings fellow bloggers, bored cats, and heavily tattooed men in orange jumpsuits wasting their 10 minutes of Internet time because they googled “Kim Kardashian Boobs”!

Not only do I blog here at She’s a Maineiac, I’m also a seasoned reporter, interviewing poor slobs about their redonkulous lives.

You might remember my last report, Woman Refuses to Live in the Moment, in which gluten-freak Oprah dished out unsolicited advice to a broke woman and her farting asthmatic cat, Mr. Wankers.

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No? Well, shut up and eat a bagel.

Now time for today’s report!

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Sometimes the daily grind of life is all too much for one 47-year-old woman from the quaint coastal village of East Scrotum, Maine (not to be confused with Scrotum’s Point, a sad little town north of South Bunghole).

Ah yes, Maine — The Way Life Should Be.™

Image result for maine scenery

Unless your life should be that you’re perpetually broke, your feet ache, your boobs sag, and your shit stinks.*

I met up with Starla Turdbucketsen early one morning to see how she does it. How does she survive in today’s crazy-ass world? How in god’s name does she wake up every effing day — remember who she is — yet continue to get up anyway?

“It ain’t easy,” Starla sighed, blowing a steady stream of smoke into my face.

“So, you smoke cigarettes now?”

“No.”

“Let’s talk about your life. Who is Starla Turdbucketsen? You’re a daughter of an elderly parent who thinks Elvis reincarnated as a 13-year-old gospel singer from Sweden. You’re a mom of a teen who thinks he’s going to college to triple major in YouTube Celebrity/Video Gamer/Culinary Farts. You’re a mom to a tween daughter. You’re a wife to a man who incessantly watches MASH reruns in his underwear.”

“Correct.”

“Starla, in the past year, you’ve gone through menopause, major surgery, and the legal separation of Chris Pratt and Anna Faris. You work two jobs, yet you’re wearing a bra you bought circa 1989. Any thoughts, insights or revelations you’d care to share with us about being a modern woman in today’s society?”

“Well, if I have to pluck one more freaking gray hair out of my chin, I swear I’m gonna lose my shit. So there’s that. ”

“So, why do it? What gets you going day after day? Why not just drive your Toyota Corolla into the nearest brick wall?”

“The commute.”

“The what?”

“Are you deaf, you unbelievable nimrod? The commute!”

Oh yeah, the work commute!

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(And yes, my doctor says I’m currently suffering from progressive hearing loss, but let’s get back to Starla and her desperate attempt to cling to those last few scraps of sanity.)

Let’s face it — most of our lives would be a never-ending shit parade if not for those blissful 28 minutes of the morning when you are alone in your car, driving to your soul-sucking job.

I think most harried Americans would agree, the commute is that rare time when you are free to let it all go. That’s right…just take a deep breath…roll down the windows to air out the stench of “medicinal” marijuana…crank some hip-hop…and forget our president is a cross between Forrest Gump and Gary Busey.

Slide1“What is it about the commute that appeals to you, Starla?”

“Two words: No. News.”

“Two more words: ‘Nuff said.”

And so concludes another in-depth interview! Stay tuned next week when I ask Starla her take on the current nuclear crisis with North Korea! (Preview: She thinks it’s the classic “my missile/ego/therapy bill is bigger than yours” dust-up)

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*In 2007, the Maine State Tourism Board fired the marketing director after he presented the slogan: Maine: The Way Life Should Be (Except For Those Who Are Perpetually Broke & Their Feet Ache & Their Boobs Sag & Their Shit Stinks. If That’s You–Move To New Hampshire.)

 

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Conversations with Coat Racks

Do you often find yourself struggling to read a magazine only to curse the length of your arm?

Do you own five pairs of really useless reading glasses?

Do you find Jeb Bush incredibly sexy?

Curse you, Jeb, and those smoldering bedroom eyes!
Curse you, Jeb, and those smoldering bedroom eyes!

Time to face facts– you are probably suffering from RDV, or rapidly declining vision. Don’t worry, this tends to happen as you grow old.

But not me, because my eyes are just fine, dammit!

This may or may not be what I saw at my last eye exam.
This may or may not be what I saw at my last eye exam.

My family and friends insist I’m in a deep state of denial. Well, guess what? I deny that I’m denying. Some of you readers may relate. So, grab the nearest eyeglasses, magnifying glass, or Hubble Space Telescope and click over to the Nudge Wink Report below to read all about the tragic story of Marla — a middle-aged woman who prefers to suffer in her blurry world rather than admit she once mistook Nair for toothpaste.

Despite Increasing Denial, Woman’s Eyesight Continues to Decline.

 

 

 

 

 

Time Marches On…and All Over My Face

It’s a scientific fact that once you hit your 40s, time speeds up. Days go by in seconds, years are like minutes. Unless you start paying attention to the presidential race.

Not only does your concept of time change, but the signs of aging increase exponentially. Where once before, it might take a decade for a new, tiny wrinkle to emerge, now things move at breakneck speed. Is this due to extreme stress? Or is it just the natural order of things? You decide.

“Mornin’, honey.”

“Morning.”

“Ahhh! GOD! What happened to your hair?”

“Huh? Oh, you mean this huge crop of white hair? That’s sticking right out in front in all directions, with the texture of a Brillo pad?” (Sips coffee.) “Well, our son told me yesterday he’s getting armpit hair and wants to start wearing cologne.”

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“Mornin’, hon–oh, holy crap! Jesus!”

“You’re looking at the giant crease across my forehead aren’t you.”

“Why…no…I didn’t even notice it. Ha, ha. I have no idea what you’re talking about. You look fine! Perfectly normal! Beautiful even! It adds character!”

“Yeah, I got that little gift after our daughter told me yesterday she wants to marry Justin Bieber and have his babies. And she plans on living with all of them in an apartment above our garage until she’s 30. But it’s okay. I’m perfectly fine with the fact that there’s a ridge deeper than the Mariana Trench dividing my forehead into three places. Truly. So what if I look like my face is in a permanent state of scowling. Most likely that’s how I feel inside anyway, so it all works out.”

“Wow. And it’s so…deep. And it’s still there! No matter what expression you make! Now it’s getting even deeper!”

“Shut up.”

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We love to point out how quickly people age. Apparently this indicates a person was under a severe amount of stress.  Take for instance, our presidents.

George W. Bush, before and after his term:

Obama, before and after: (I have a sneaking suspicion these photos aren’t very accurate)

 And the final proof.

This is me when I turned 40:

 And this is me today:

But if I’m in the right light and use the correct makeup, you hardly notice.