Memorial Day Weekend: Prep Guide

'Twas two weeks before MDW and all through the world, the boys were chugging protein powder and the girls just-a hurled. For why would we diet all year when we can just starve and fuss? We wouldn't have anything to complain about on our Facebook status (yes, I am a lyrical genius thank you for noticing).

Okay so freak out mode has just kicked in. Your thighs are jiggling a little too much, your clothes are a little out of date and the official kick-off to summer is under 2 weeks away. Get your schloppy, broke, cottage-cheese-asses together! There is only so much Lo-Fi can do and nobody needs the Michelin Man tagged in their "MDW '13" album.

I was once referred to as the Mother Hen of the blogging world (it might have been in my diary) so I figured I would help guide society along by providing my useful and always unsolicited advice. I have consolidated said advice into a few easy steps:

Gym, Starve, Eject, Tan, Secure, Damage Control, Cry

For short we can call it “GSETSDCC”, because it's a super easy acronym you can remember, possibly tattoo on your body(?) or add into a rap song like YOLO! Drake? ‘Lil Wayne? "I'm smacking my bitch, drinking some Henny, then prepping for da club with some GSETSDCC". It just flows off the tongue.

GYM. Girls - run and do sit ups every day. There are absolutely no other muscles in your body that need to be worked, ever. Guys lift heavy things and grunt, add in an air drum solo in between sets. Ensure everyone knows you are at the gym with a clever status such as "Getting it in" or "get it right, get it tight" because all of your friends totally care. Whatever you do, do not forget to take a selfie. Have sweat stains so we know you mean business, but do the duck face so we still think your super cute. Lift up your shirt for an ab progress pic?  #beachbody #fitgirls #guyswholift

STARVE. Okay so don't starve that is just stupid, but definitely cut your calories down to that "am I going to faint?" amount. If you want to be trendy do a juice cleanse. I think you can lose like 40 pounds in 3 days because I read it in US Weekly and they are super reputable. Sure, you could have changed to a "healthy" lifestyle months ago, but why, when you can spend the next two weeks chewing flavored gum and nibbling on celery? #snortingboogersugar

EJECT. Do not let your meals stay in your body. Rule of thumb: if you aren't shoving something up or sticking something down to get rid of those carbs you are not dedicated enough. So mix up an Adderall and laxative cocktail and cheers to the good life! #Febreze

TAN. Edward Cullen called and he wants his skin tone back. Unless you are the lead singer for The Smashing Pumpkins (pretty sure he reads my blog) get some color before you embarrass your friends you insensitive marshmallow.

SECURE. Identify and secure your belongings. Put a password on your phone as you
will inevitably lose it. Put Bank of America on speed dial as your debit card will be stolen (that's what you tell your Mom). Ensure all articles you pack can be ruined, torn, or thrown into the Atlantic Ocean with minimal ramifications. #whatuposama

DAMAGE CONTROL. Save money. You will tell your friends “don’t let me buy shots” and then turn to the bar and scream “SHOTS”. Finish any kind of project, chore or work assignment. Brain cells will be shattered, health will be compromised and your capability to be a productive member of society for a least a week will be slim to none.

CRY. You’re still chubby. You still have no money. You're stuck in traffic. Get drunk, have fun, make memories, and eat pizza. Cry again.

Take it in. Execute. You are welcome.  



Toddlers have all the cute swimsuits. #ugh

 

Who is SydRock?

Now that I have been doing this blog for quite some time now, allow me to reintroduce myself, my name is Syd, S to the Y-D (in a horrible white girl Jay-Z impression voice/HOV hand gestures galore). No but really, I have picked up some random followers along the way, I will call you "virtual nomads" and I thought I would give you a little insight into well, me. It always helps to be able to reference the asshole you are speaking of (that's why they have hand mirrors in the proctology office). Let's start off with some stats:

Always use a pic that you are tan, cropped, and look like a functioning member of society.

Name: Sydney Guttmann (if you are a prospective employer my real name is "Jen Smith". I stole the name Sydney Guttmann from a completely upstanding, hardworking, law-abiding, god-fearing, beautiful woman. Don't blame her.)

Age: 26

Birth date: May 1st - bribes, presents, blumkins accepted.

Height: 5ft 3in

Weight: Fuck you.

Shoe Size: 7 
Sex: None.

Occupation: Govie, Blogger, Comedian-ish, and Big Mac connoisseur

Religion: I like to picture Jesus in a tuxedo t-shirt

Twitter: @CapitalSarcasm

Relationship Status: hahahahaha

Alma Mater: Alma Mater? I just met her! #UConn

Current location: Washington, DC. Which makes me the Queen Snow Bunny in the Chocolate City

Favorite book: The bible. Well not the real one, the one the rappers read.

Favorite food: Vodka

Celebrity Doppelganger: Seth Rogan

"Dude, I loved you in Knocked Up!"

"Weird 'cuz its 1997 and that movie hasn't come out yet.."

Want to learn more about me? Leave questions and comments below!!

Stand-Up Cherry Pop

After long consideration, I have decided to try stand-up comedy. Some people mentioned it to me, but I was reluctant because I am lazy. Not like too lazy to stand, but like too lazy to figure out how to make a routine. This requires such hard work as, studying other comedians, reading books (gasp) and actually having some kind of "craft" (previously the only kind of craft I had started with a "K" and was a bowl full of cheesy heaven). I have so many fears that I thought I would share them and relieve some of my anxiety:

I have a fear I will look fat.  Yes, I do put looking good over any actual content because I am a girl, and extremely shallow girl at that.

I have a fear that no one will laugh.  How many times can a girl say "is this thing on" and get a chuckle? Does the "Baddoom Cha" drum thing still work with the kids these days?

I am nervous people will be funnier than me.  My original plan was to Nancy Kerrigan their asses before they get on stage, but my lawyer has advised otherwise. What a prude.

I have a fear my mind will go blank.  I know what you are saying, "but Syd you blackout every weekend, shouldn't you be fine with this feeling". Well guys, fuck you.

I  have a fear I will look fat.  Yes, I put this down twice because that's how concerned I am. Have you seen my early Girl Scout photos? I was the poster child for early-onset Obesity. You wonder how I got into comedy--brownies, lots of brownies.

I am nervous I will drink too much.  Last time I checked doing an Irish jig and taking your top off isn't considered a "bit".

I am scared to offend people.  Actually that's a lie, I could care less.

I am scared I will kill it.  If I nail it the first time, will I be chasing that comedic high the rest of my life?  Will my body be mutilated by the track marks of failed knock-knock jokes? Will I become the old lady in the retirement home that tells the legendary tale of "the night I slaughtered my first stand up routine", to a room full of dolls?

So guys wish me luck! No, you are not invited. I will leave you in the dark until I emerge Friday morning telling you how well I did, regardless of how epically shitty it actually turns out. That is the thing about the internet:  Everything is true until you meet it and it's an old, fat, bald guy with a pegleg.

Come on baby, everybody's doing it...

Meat on Wheels

Bus etiquette. Something people clearly don't think much about. Partially because most bus patrons are semi trash-tastic for simply riding these well-fare wagons, but mostly because people are selfish, smelly bitches. I was reminded of this today as I rode home from NYC.

#bolognababies

On this wonderful journey I was oh so pleasantly introduced to…Bologna Man. Seriously, I think this dude had enough bologna sandwiches to feed a Jessica Simpson/Christie Alley love child through its first trimester.

Trust me when I tell you the first whiff of bologna is the strongest.

Now let’s take a second to dissect. You are about to get on a 4 hour bus ride, on a Sunday morning, with 60 strangers. Your entrée of choice is, not just one, but rather a conga line of bologna sandwiches? You're a jackass.

We can't open the windows on this thing and some of us made super bad alcoholic choices over the weekend and are struggling to settle a belly full of beer and disco fries. Have you ever heard someone say, "man this hangover is the worst, I wish I had the bologna scented Febreze to bath in for 4 hours while bumping down the Jersey Tunpike". Why not? Because Febreze doesn't make such a scent, weirdo. But also because, it's a stupid fucking idea.

Ever heard of turkey? Make a fucking turkey sandwich. You know what turkey smells like? NOTHING!!!

So in conclusion Bologna Man, who the fuck still eats bologna? 

The Greyhound Delight

Sequestration Babies

It is now mid-February and the greatest nation in the world has yet to sign a plan to avoid sending the country directly into its 1 March doomsday with sequestration (to be fair they only had 730 days to avoid it).

As I know all of you have such a vested interest in my personal well-being, I thought I would let you know I will be okay. Yes, as a government employee there is a potential for me to lose 20% of my pay for the remainder of the fiscal year, leaving me unable to pay my rent, car, insurance, student loans, and groceries -- but hey, I am a chameleon and can adapt. I have devised a foolproof plan to avoid personal financial devastation.  

I am going to become a gestational carrier.

For those of you who are now highlighting that phrase to plop it into "Mr. Google", I will save you some time: I want to have your babies inside me! I want nothing more than for you to use and abuse my body like a human oven, slowly cooking the fetus of your choice until that dinger pops 9 months from now -- coincidentally right at the end of the fiscal year.

I don't care what your reasons are for having me carry your baby. Whether it is because you can't carry one yourself, you don't want to get fat, or you just want to see me eating pickles and crying at auto insurance commercials -- this is a no judgment uterus!

I am a pristine female. I have child baring hips, a college degree, and amazing hair.  I had perfect attendance in elementary school, a trumpet solo in the 8^th grade jazz band and I have a promising career making fun of people on the internet.

My requirements are as simple as 1,2,3:

1. Payment of $50,000 and a subscription to the Ice Cream/Bacon of the Month Club during the pregnancy.
2. A complimentary tummy tuck/boob job upon delivery of the “goods” (hopefully only one “good”, but for twins throw in some Twinkies—the original not the ones made in Mexico— to literally and figuratively “sweeten the deal”)
3. I shall have no contact with the snot nosed, brace-faced, pimply child ever.  Caveat: If said child becomes a famous, rich athlete, celebrity, or internet mogul…I’ve always loved them.

So Congress, I’ll see your furlough and I’ll raise you a baby maker.  YOU CAN’T HOLD ME DOWN. There is no better way to stick it to the man than sticking a turkey baster up your hoo-ha for money.

Please leave all serious inquiries below.  I will have my pimp doctor contact you as soon as possible.

10 Reasons I Hate Being a Girl

I got 99 problems and being a woman are 10.

1&2.  Ovaries. Fuck you left one for this month…and a big preemptive fuck you goes out to the right one for next month.

3. Nail polish. If you abstain from nail polish, you are a dirt bag hippy who will never find love past the half smoked blunt in your Toyota Corolla.  If you do choose to wear it, you have sold your soul to the Sally Hansen Devil. You have now committed an hour of your life every week to removing, prepping, repainting and drying the very nails that inevitably will crack, chip, and smudge while you sleep. Cut to no one noticing your effort, ever.

4. Hair. From the shaving, to the waxing, to the plucking, the maintenance never ends. And that's not even the hair on our heads. Do you know what goes into the decision to cut bangs? A summit of the United Nations couldn’t fathom that kind of effort.

5. Boobs. Always a problem. You have small ones, it's a problem. You have large ones, it's a problem. Guys like them and you feel objectified. Guys don't like them and you feel insignificant. Who run the world?? Boobs (Beyoncé voice).

6. Being lady-like. FUCK! SHIT! BALLS! BLUMKIN! BUKAKKE! God that felt good. Now I will go back to giggling and saying “yes Sir” and “thanks Ma’am” and vacuuming in heels while my muffins bake.

7. Dieting. Girls are always one cheeseburger away from having to change their “body type” on Match.com to “curvy”. Lettuce doesn't taste like bacon. Yes I would like fries with that, but I will take the side salad because I don’t want to die alone.

8. Emotions.  Mix one part Sarah McLachlan animal commercial with a dose of The Notebook, and a pinch of Long Island Medium to create…one blubbering idiot. 

AIM Screen name:
Killa52

9. Expenses. Yes the man has to pay for dinner, boo-the-fuck-hoo. Do you know how much prep work and money was spent on looking this exceptionally mediocre? Shampoo, conditioner, white strips, hair spray, moisturizer, lotion, foundation, eye-liner, mascara, bronzer, hair dryer, hair straighter, perfume, heels, jeans, top, necklace, earrings, belt, purse. Ugh, I am exhausted

10. Athleticism. I could have had both the money and the bitches, but I was not born with the capability to play professional football. Do you know how many people I could have killed?

Now back to watching, Say Yes to the Dress, sobbing and looking for a man on Tinder while I exfoliate my pores. <dramatic faint>

10 Ways Congress Can Gain Respect

It seems they need a little help these days...

1.  Man the fuck up.

2.  Stop using the word "recess". You don't work while you are actually at work so when you are off gallivanting for photo ops at the Dairy Queen, it is insulting that you have the audacity to call it recess.  And if you must refer to it as childs play, please ,for the love of god refrain from taking said "recess" one day after starting your job.

3. Stop worrying about getting reelected. You know what wont help you get reelected? Sending the nation into the biggest economic crisis of the 21st century, because you were too pussy whipped by your party to have your OWN VOICE.  So cut bullshit, compromise and repeat step one.

4. Chill with the thumbs up. Do you know where most the nation wants you to stick that?

5. Listen then adapt. I know most of you are old as fuck, but its 2013. Women, Minorities, and Homosexuals are REAL and have rights, and are not going anywhere, that's a fact.  You don't have to agree with it, but shit is happening (insert twilight zone music). So take your jaw off the ground, wipe the dust off your old balls and make some decisions that are relevant to the world today. Repeat step one.
 

6. Let your hair down.  Something tells me a few shots of whiskey and a trip to the "happy" massage parlor wouldn’t hurt.

7. Say "I don't know". You are a human being, we understand that. Do you want to be married to that stupid-ass, non-researched, snap decision your about to make to strictly maintain face?  You're a figure head.  Take guidance, a dose of Geritol, and THEN head to Meet the Press.

8. Laugh. Why are you all sooooo damn serious? It's creepy. It makes people dislike you more. And don't get me started on the drama. You have three hundred and sixty-fucking-five days in a year. These "up-all-night, pizza-party decisions" are unnecessary.

Been there, done that

9. Have a plan. The amount of time and money you waste on assassinating the character of your opponents could be spent creating a solution to a problem on our nation's ever-growing list. If an ex-heroin junkie, who frequents titty bars, and prefers assless chaps to your pleated Polo trousers, has a good idea and plan for the future, he's getting my vote. What's your play? How about...repeat step one. 

10. Stop being a bunch of brown nosers. Y’all are so far up Ronald Regan and Bill Clinton’s anal cavities you have a second career in proctology waiting for you. Stop living inside an asshole because it is rubbing off on your personality.

Now, I am going to sit here and shine my Poli Sci degree and you can come get me when you’re ready to run a country.

Hot for Teacher: A Teacher's Rant

Capital Sarcasm is proud to present its first GUEST WRITER: *Hot for Teacher

I'm not sure who set the precedent that when someone mentions they are a teacher the immediate response has to be "Oh! Summers off! Must be nice", but when I find them, I'll punch them in the dick.

"I can't believe YOU'RE a teacher". This is a common comment I get while playing a round of dizzy bat, or an aggressive game of flip cup. Why? Because I curse like a sailor and drink like a fish? I love it when my friends say things to me like, "I can't believe you mold the minds of children". Damn right I fucking do, and guess what, I do it way better than you ever could. Just because we have to be "holier than thou" while in the classroom doesn't mean I have to be lame in my free time. Are you kidding me? You know how many times a day I want to tell a kid to shut the fuck up? Or sit the fuck down? Or tell their mom or dad they're failing because they're fucking lazy and worthless? Maybe you can't imagine that I'm a teacher because, I have the capability to keep my personal life and my work life separate. I exercise complete self control while in the classroom - and the exact opposite when I'm not. I'm not "friends" with my coworkers on Facebook - I have my own friends, I don't need them seeing what I'm up to at all times. I don't hang out with them on weekends or even during lunch. I am one person at work and another when I'm outside of it. And if you can't wrap your head around that, then maybe you need to work on it yourself. 

I'll never forget the night of my fourth open house. I was wearing a pencil skirt, heels, and a blouse. One of my coworkers said "You can't wear that, that's too sexy". I said "Too sexy?! I got it from Ann Taylor!" She said "Yea but that's for business women, not teachers." Oh excuse-the fuck-me. Just because I'm a teacher I can't wear what high powered women wear? I have to wear those horrible fucking sweaters with squirrels and acorns knitted into the pattern because I'm around kids? Fuck that noise. I could be a high powered executive somewhere, but I chose to pick an even harder profession - turning spoiled little shits into second language learners - and I'll be damned if I have to look ugly while doing it just to fit some social norm that make others more "comfortable". Maybe it's taboo to be a "sexy" teacher but trust me, by the time I'm ripping those kids a new asshole for not writing in complete sentences I've completely stripped myself of the "sexy". 

"Teachers are whiney". Have you ever considered that we have something to whine about? If 7.2 million people are telling you they are tired, overworked and underpaid I'm going to go out on a limb here and say perhaps we should start listening. I had a friend who liked to come at me with "Yeah, but you get summers off" , whenever I complained of being exhausted.   Alright, let's sit down and do the math. I average a 55-60 hour work week. This is not including time spent on weekends grading. Considering there are 188 days in the school year, this means I have put in 2,162 total working hours. A person working 40 hours a week for 52 full weeks a year (give them 2 weeks for vacation) works a total of 2,080 hours a year. I've put in 2 weeks worth more of work and I don't even work the summer.

I am well aware of the many professions that require their employees to put in 60 hour weeks for a full year, no summers off. But I assure you, their paychecks reflect it. Mine does not.

Does this turn you on?

I have friends in these professions that are constantly bored at work. They're telling me how they looked something up online, bought tickets at work, listen to music at their desk. Don't get me wrong, I'm just fucking jealous. I would love a job like that. But when that same person belittles me for getting a summer off, I'd like to remind them that I am not even allowed to pee from 7:45-10:45 because I don't have a break. My lunches are 22 minutes long. 22 minutes! Do you know how fast you have to eat to finish something in 22 fucking minutes?! I have been on dates where I look across from me and just see a guy in utter disgust simply because I'm eating faster than a lion who just killed a zebra. "Sorry" I giggle and blush with food coming out of my mouth like a disgusting degenerate, "I only get 22 minute lunches". I'm at the point where I'm blaming my profession for the fact that I will most certainly die alone.

We may whine, but we just want to be heard. I've had everything said to me from "teaching is basically part time" to "I want to retire and just become a teacher", coming from people who have never set foot in a classroom. They never walk into work, still have their coat on, and have 7 kids waiting for "extra" (unpaid) help. They're not constantly scrutinized by 250 different parents, the principals, the administrators, the students themselves. (No matter what, SOMEONE out there thinks you suck.) They're allowed to go pee whenever they want. They could even take a lunch break - perhaps get out of the office after 8 hours. They can poop at work. (I'm not saying I need this - but the option would be nice). I don't run around saying "I just want to be an ad salesman. All they do is go out to client lunches and bang hot secretaries all day",  because I have no fucking clue what an ad salesman does - the only professions I know anything about are waitressing and teaching. I sure as hell won't be the asshole who comments on anyone else's job.  

Moral of the story? 

Yes, I do have summers off, because I fucking earned it. BITCH.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
*Hot for Teacher is an over-educated school marm in one of the wealthiest districts in the New England. She is wasting her youth, beauty and talent trying to instill some kind of education in her over indulged brats. She has recently come to terms with the fact that she’ll be single forever and is investigating local convents. She likes to spend her free time sitting alone at bars wearing all of her jewelry at once.
Hot for Teacher has also had  been featured on: www.crandleberries.com

Resolutions Smesolutions

In lieu of a real resolution, I decided to pick apart all of yours. After all, "those who can, do. Those who can't, judge silently eating pizza."

Are you still living in your parents basement, smoking weed and hanging out with the new round of high school derelicts? Do nothing. Suck the teat of unemployment and minimal responsibilities for all its worth. Shit is not better when you work 9-5 and have to worry about things like groceries and showering.

Mmm philanthropy

Are you overweight? Embrace it. Why go to the gym and diet when you can join a chubby chaser website and support someone's fetish? It's like charity, but charity where you can eat lots of pie.

Do you want to read more? Really? At this point in your life? Just put on the Closed Captioning during the next Love and Hip Hop episode and read away, you illiterate fuckface.
 

Do you want to follow your dreams? How about you follow your ass to the Education Connection website where Shannen Doherty can tell you how that one works out.

Are you going to quit drinking alcohol? Horrible decision. Have fun creating a new, funner (suck it grammar freaks) self in your second life game, as you sit home alone every night talking to your stuff animals.
 

You want to start volunteering. You go get 'em tiger. I hope you stock up on your excuses because once you sign up to shovel shit for 8 hours on a Sunday morning, you are going to need to develop car problems and a case of "explosive D", pronto tonto. After all, it was the thought that counts, right?

Are you trying to save money? Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha

You want to find love this year. I will set you up with a few guys I have dated. You'll realize the grass is slightly yellowed and full of poisonous mushrooms on the other side. 

You are going to quit smoking. Welcome to 21st century Fonzie.

You are going to stop letting people walk all over you. That’s so empowering. You should probably get in the kitchen and make me a sandwich. I give it two days before your no-car having fling makes you drive 40 minutes to get a new pair of shoes after not returning your texts for 2 weeks (he probably just fell asleep).

Overall, I think 2013 is going to be an amazing year for some, a horrible year for others and a so-so year for the rest. I don't think I am a psychic or anything, but I'd put money on that.

Exactly how fit is f*ck? I need answers before I commit.

Want to make a resolution for me? Leave your comments & I will listen or something.

NYE BITCHES!

HAPPY NEW YEAR, YOU FILTHY ANIMALS!

What is your New Year's Resolution? Mine is to become part of the Basketball Wives cast (as it does not actually require me to be a basketball wife).  Other than that, I can't possibly see where I could improve. You know the old saying: "If it ain't broke... don't join cross-fit and stop eating bacon". Cheers to 2013/OPEN BAR!