Help Me Be A Lifehacker, You’re My Only Hope.

Occasionally I will get emails asking for my help. I’m not always sure that real people are sending these. I have a strong suspicion that it’s aliens just trying to distract me from my constant alien invasion vigilance, and if that is the case then very well played aliens because I am totally distracted.

Last week, I got this email.

“Girl, should I unfollow my ex on Twitter?”

I’m not entirely sure that I’m qualified to answer this, or even why someone would turn to me for any advice that doesn’t involve alien invasion preparation or imaginary conversation starters, but I’m never short of opinions on anything so I’ll oblige this alien person with an answer. Because I’m nice like that. And helpful. And generous. And I have a sparkling personality.

Yes. Yes, you should unfollow your ex on Twitter. Always. If Katy Perry and Russell Brand can’t continue following each other on Twitter after their divorce, what hope do the rest of us have? Unfollow immediately.

You’re welcome probable alien, I just solved your problem in like 10 seconds. Now I can get back to preparing Earth’s defense in the case of alien invasion.

I Got All Mature Up In Here!

Last night something very unexpected happened to me. I had a moment of maturity.

Take a moment to let that sink in.

I know, I know. I can hardly believe it myself, but it’s true. I got all mature up in here. The craziest part is that this dizzying spell of maturity was brought on by Twitter.  Someone tweeted something that I thought was grossly unfair and personally insulting to me but before I hit them back good with my standard “Your Mother” I had a mature thought that went a little something like this….

“Be A Lifehacker, this person is a stranger to you. They don’t know you and you don’t know them. What they said was ridiculous and rude but in the grand scheme of your totally awesome life, does it matter? Will it change your world in any way? Is there any type of benefit to responding to this comment? How about you just pour yourself a nice glass of wine and write a blog about how mature you are- doesn’t that sound nice?”

So here I am, drinking a glass of wine and blogging about how mature I am. Wait. Is blogging about your maturity actually an immature thing to do? Balls. I think I just created a wormhole.

WWII Made Me Panic.


We Can Do It!

There is a completely awesome Twitter account that I follow called @RealTimeWWII, which live tweets WWII as it happened day by day from 1940-1945. I am a giant history nerd and am absolutely infatuated with this twitter account. If y’all are on the Twitter, I suggest you follow it. You needed to know about @RealTimeWWII because it’s awesome but also because it’s relevant to the story I need to tell you.

This is a cautionary tale. You would be wise to learn from it.

The other day, I was skimming quickly through my Twitter feed and noticed this tweet: : “USA protesting British warships detaining its cruise liners at Gibraltar; UK insists it’s necessary to enforce blockade on Germany“. These are my paraphrased thoughts after reading it.

Oh no. Oh no. This is really bad. When did the UK put a blockade on Germany? How did I miss this? What could have led up to this? I don’t recall reading anything in the news about it and I read BBC news, surely they would have included something about a UK blockade on Germany in the news. I just don’t understand how I missed something so major. This is really, really bad.  It’s like WWII all over again. Oh……oh wait. What Twitter account am I looking at? Oh. Oh I see. It *is* WWII. Whew. That’s a relief. Ok heart, you can stop racing now. Crises averted. Or, you know, crises passed because it was all well over before I was even born. Sheesh. I really need to pay better attention to what I’m reading on this thing. 

Y’all. I literally started having a panic attack based on something that happened in 1939 because I thought it was happening now. It really makes you think about how we’re all just driving like bats out of hell through life and maybe it would be better if we just slowed down every once in a while and paid better attention to what we’re reading on Twitter.

The Unfriend/Unfollow Dilema


Sometimes, I really hate social media. Sometimes, I really love it. Today though, I mostly hate it and the predicaments it puts us into. I long for a simpler time when it was easy to stop being someone’s friend. You just ignored their calls and texts. Done. It was swell. But now, on top of ignoring their calls and texts, you have to unfollow or defriend them. And for some reason *that* makes you seem/feel a lot worse. There is something so aggressive and hostile about unfollowing or defriending someone. Why is that? Why does it seem worse to unfollow someone than it does to ignore them/talk mad shiz behind their back??

Because social media has completely warped our way of thinking. Say you have a “friend” on Facebook you haven’t spoken to in 10 years. Not a wall message, not a poke, no communication whatsoever. So, you decide to un-friend them. Now, all of a sudden you’re a jerk. You’ve instantly become an evil troll who doesn’t deserve to have friends to unfriend in the first place. In short, people get pissed. There is something so inherently hostile about unfriending or unfollowing someone that people tend to react extremely. That is, if they even notice. There is always a chance they won’t notice. Nevertheless they always notice. There is even a Twitter app that will tell you who has unfollowed you that week. Way to be a narc Twitter. That’s not cool. And once they know, you become a social media pariah. But what’s the point of social media if you don’t even like the people you follow or are friends with on Facebook. Why engage at all if it’s just going add unnecessary drama to your life? If social media is about connecting with people you like or might like, then why is it so unacceptable to unfollow or defriend people you don’t or won’t like?  Why do I feel worse about unfollowing someone then I do for not talking to them anymore? What’s the big deal? Does social media rule our lives? What’s it all about????

Do you unfriend or unfollow?

So many questions……my brain hurts.

I Googled That.

You know, I really pride myself on using correct grammar. Sure, I make mistakes and I’m sure you could find about 1,000 in this blog (as a side note, please don’t do that, it makes you a douche-bag). So, when I don’t know the correct usage or pluralization of a word, I look it up. I’m telling you this because you need to know that about me for two reasons.

1. It’s important that we get to know each other better.

2. It will give some perspective to this post.

So, I’m on Twitter the other day and I see this:

Seth Myers Twitter

I thought it was pretty clever, which is to be expected, and I wanted to respond with an equally clever reply. Because, and I’m not totally sure about this, but I think I want Seth Myers to love me. Or at the very least think I’m hysterical, which to me, is basically the same thing. I wanted my reply to say “Hey! I’m a cute girl with a killer sense of humor. We should grab dinner sometime and I will charm your pants off (literally) with my humor.” Or, you know, something like that.

But, before I could officially reply, I had to Google this: “What is the plural of penis?”

True story.

You see, I have always referred to multiple penises as “peni”, and though I have some vague memory of creating that word because I thought it was funny, I’ve used it as if I learnt it in sex education on the day when they talked about how to refer to genitalia in the plural.  And can I just say, I think we should have probably spent more time on that lesson and less time on herpes. No offense to herpes but there are only so many mouth and junk sores I can look at in a day. As a side note, “junk” refers to genitalia and I actually did learn that word in school but not in an official class. Anyway, I Googled the plural of penis and it turns out it was penises and not peni. Personally, I think peni sounds funnier but, who am I to judge the English language? Now whenever I start to type any word that starts with “P” Google suggests some pretty racy stuff. It’s getting a little bit inappropriate Google, I wanted to find “pizza places” not “porn palaces”. Get it together.

Anyway, my reply tweet to Seth Myers was this:

Be A Lifehacker Twitter

It was a disaster. I was clearly too aggressive with the capital letters. Instead of being cute and sarcastic my tweet came off all yelly and stuck-up. Alas, no dinner invitation was extended and really, I can’t blame the poor guy. My tweet effectively punched him in the junk and then laughed at him when he cried in pain. Although, I have to say, I laughed hysterically at my own tweet for like, 2 minutes. At least I think I’m hilarious. This could probably be a Flirtation Failure post, no?


My Brain Just Exploded

Exploding head

I received a spam comment yesterday. And such a spam comment, I have never seen. It was a spam comment on any recommendations I might have to avoid spam comments. Spam to avoid spam!? BOOM. My brain just exploded.

And then, because I hadn’t done it in a while, I decided to have a look-see at what search terms have recently driven traffic to this my most beloved and trusty blog. And you know, what? My head exploded again. BOOM. It was like brains and imagination and curse words all over the place. Gross but beautiful. Before you continue reading, go to a safe and easily washable place- you want to make the brain matter clean-up as painless as possible.

Starving jokes- You people are sick. I distinctly remember writing a blog about how starving jokes cross a line. Take your garbage elsewhere

 Neck brace- Do you need one? Are you hurt? As magical as my blog may seem, it can’t heal you. Please seek medical attention immediately.

Is the term spinster ok to use?- Ummm, yes. I’ve been over this. You may mean it as an insult but historically speaking, it’s a compliment. Unless you’re calling me one and then it’s like “Yo mama a spinster.” and so forth.

Need to know about Donald Duck- Why? Maybe he doesn’t want you to know him. Maybe he’d like a little peace and quiet for a change. Back off his jock y’all.

This blog is probably written by a female 15-17- No, it’s not. Sucka! I’m 26 but I write like a teenager. Jealous? Oh wait…I want to look like a teenager not write like one. Balls.

You suck at flirting- You suck as flirting! Judgy McJudgester. Take your insults elsewhere, no matter how “true” they may be.

Birds that mean death- There are bids that mean death??! Look to the skies! Flying death! Save the children! Oh the horror! Which bird means death? Which bird??????

I am a trendsetter- No, you’re conceited. I am a trendsetter.

Should you help your girlfriends crush stalk her?- I’m really confused on the dynamics here. You have a girlfriend, she has a crush (that isn’t you), but you want to help that guy stalk her?? Still confused. Look, if you want my help, I’m going to need two things.

1. A better explanation.

2. A goat or other type of barnyard animal as payment. Actually, I want a sheep. Make it a sheep.

Why am I so terrified of aliens?- Because they are TERRIFYING. You should take pride in the fact that you’re intelligent enough to fear what should be feared. Luckily for you, I have a very good strategy for survival in the case of an alien attack. It involves large amounts of water, napalm, samurai swords, any type of swords really, daggars, and care-bear songs. I can’t give it all away but try and make your way to me in the case of an alien invasion and I will offer you my protection. You won’t be sorry. (You’ll probably be sorry.)

Naked girl with hat hugging two bears in the forest- This seems dangerous. I think you’ve misinterpreted what you’re seeing. You query should have read “All girl’s clothes except hat shredded as she is mauled by bears in the forest.”

Is a girl flirting if she doesn’t talk to me- Nope. I’m pretty sure flirting involves speech. I mean, I’m no expert, obviously, but it seems like there should be communication of some sort involved. Is she winking and “making eyes” at you? That may be flirting. Is she ignoring your very existence? Probably not flirting. At least, she isn’t flirting well. Wait, are we talking about me? Am I the girl who wasn’t talking to you? Because then, I probably was flirting.

Contrary to later- Contrary to later would be….now. You are a very wise person. I’m going to use this line if you don’t mind. “Hey GotC! Want to grab some lunch?” “Why yes I would! I would like to grab some lunch contrary to later.”

Can you see my thong- My blog isn’t a magic mirror. I can’t answer that question. Although, how amazing would it be if my blog were a magic mirror??

Are you Jamaican? Because you- ja-makin me crazy.- Oh you.

I may look like an ewok.- I can not think of any reason why this term brought anyone to my blog, however, I welcome you with open arms. Although, I don’t know what an ewok is or looks like. Nevertheless, you will find safe haven here Sir Ewok.

More endorphins less war.- Indeed. If the leaders of the world read this blog, all would be saved.

BOOM. Have fun cleaning up all the brains.

I Know This Is My Fault But….


Because I am a blogger who totally stalks their stats, I’ve been perusing the search terms people have used to find this blog in the past few weeks. I know I’ve blogged about this before but it never fails to disappoint me. I know that it’s my fault these terms lead people to my blog but….still……some of these are kind of weird

“Made you look.” Umm….no you didn’t. Also, what? When did I say that? And, who is Googling that? This one has more questions than answers.

“Dinosaur scaring someone ” Uh, yeah, they scare people all the time. They are scary. After I thought about this for a while I got a little scared that someone had a youtube video of me cowering and crying while watching Jurassic Park. Luckily, I was wrong.

“Walking into office.” Yes, I do that Monday-Friday. All the same, how do you end up on this blog with that search term? Unless you mean like walking into the wall of the office and hitting  your face. But that didn’t happen to me. Really.

“How to tell if your friend is being a douche.” They are being a douche. Don’t waste your time Googling for an answer. Also, I’ve never once written a post about my friends being douchey. Only their boyfriends.

“Scroll saw pattern girl name” Contact a doctor immediately because you are having a stroke. Or perhaps you are having a very bizarre acid trip. Either way, a doctor is what’s called for. I’m just a blogger, I can’t help you with serious medical issues such as these.

“Fall down.” You fall down. I’m not falling down. Oops, I just fell down. Touche.

“Guy at Starbucks today Texas.” He’s cute right? You should stalk him.

“Can a man use a women’s restroom?” No, no he can’t. That’s my final word on the matter.

“I crave hugs.” Me too! But only in the way Care Bears crave hugs- not in the pathetic way. I’m sure you aren’t pathetic either. Neither of us is pathetic. There, that’s settled.

“Preventing awkward moments.” The only way I prevent them is by living them and then telling you the cautionary tales. You’re welcome.

“Hugs cure.” Yes, they do. Unfortunately for me, no one would hug me when I had the plague so I had to resort to antibiotics.

“What is on my closet eats my clothes?” Duh. It’s a monster. Or a ghost. Or like moths. Oh! It’s probably definitely, a million moth ghosts. You should see a paranormal expert about that. I can only help you identify the problem, they can help you solve it.

“Ghosts and elevators.” I’m glad someone else sees the connection. Welcome friend.

“Sass your pants off.” Oh yes I will. You’ve been warned.

“Is is a compliment to be called cool?” If you don’t know then you probably aren’t cool. It’s okay, you’re among friends here.

“What to do calculator is Dad say maybe to do something and Mom say no.” I’m not a calculator so I probably can’t help you. Also, I don’t think a calculator can help you. Consulting your Ouija board might be a better option because ghosts know lots of stuff. Also, you may be having a stroke or a bad acid trip. Ask you Ouija board if you should call a doctor.

“Make a car out of letters.” Boy, would I like to see that. You’ve got the right idea friend. I hope you weren’t disappointed that that search term lead you to this blog where I have never ever talked about making a car out of letters.

“Wonder woman.” I get that a lot. I mean, if you consider a lot to mean never. Which I do. Because I’m contrary. Hence the blog.

I don’t know why some of these terms lead you here. It makes absolutely no sense to me- which is probably why I like it so much. I guess we all have to trust the great and mighty Google (which is really just a guy behind a curtain with a bunch of smoke, code, and sound machines- true story).

Wordle To Your Mother.

Get it? It was a play on the saying “word to your Mother”. I learned that phrase from Vanilla Ice although I’m pretty sure he didn’t come up with it.

I digress. This post is about Wordle. Because I love it. And it reveals stuff to you, like a fortune teller, except it isn’t anything like a fortune teller. I use it for work quite a bit and for inspiration in writing all the time. I love Wordle. You should too. Because I said so. Also, because it’s brilliant.

I took all my most popular posts and copied and pasted them into the magic Wordle machine and this is what it revealed to me:

WordleAccording to Wordle, I talk about my Grammy a lot. And Wordle is correct, because there is a Grammy post coming this week as it so happens.

According to Wordle, I say “like” a lot. Touche, Wordle. Right again.

According to Wordle, I ask the question “really?” a lot. Really?

According to Wordle, I talk quite a bit about people. I do indeed and I’m glad to see that Wordle recognizes my selfless need to help people and protect them from awkward moments, flirtation failures, and men in women’s restrooms. Clearly, I am practically a living saint who uses the power of the interweb to spread her message of hope and sage advice. I never realized how good of a person I was until Wordle told me. I mean, I’m pretty sure that’s what it’s trying to say. Thanks Wordle.

According to Wordle I am only moderately concerned with all things “awkward”. You may have gotten this one wrong Wordle because I am almost entirely consumed with awkward things. My life is like a walking tour of awkward-ville. True story.

According to Wordle, I talk about Mondays quite a bit. I hate Mondays. Unless they are holidays, in which case, they are fine. I think Wordle is trying to tell me to give Mondays a chance, and also, stop talking about them because people are getting real sick of hearing about it. I appreciate Wordle’s honesty.

I’m surprised not to see the word “douche bag” in this. But then again, I didn’t use all my posts to create this, just my most popular ones. I can deduce from this that people don’t want to hear about douche-bags. Too bad guys, because I find douche bags too amusing not to write about them.

I love Wordle, I think it’s brilliant, and amusing, and completely diverting. There are lots of fonts and layouts and colors to choose from and I could literally spend all day on Wordle. Word clouds are fun. Seriously. I have found Wordle to be an absolute gem when it comes to helping me get inspired by my writing. When I’ve written quite a bit, I just copy and paste it into Wordle and see what words I’m using most. It really helps target my writing and has yet to fail in giving me a little boost in writing energy. You can also enter in any website or blog that has an RSS feed and it will create a lovely little picture of your words (although I think it only does the first page of your blog because when I did this “zombies” and “candy” were by far my largest words- which is awesome but not entirely accurate if you take the whole blog into account so I really think it just does the first page.) I encourage you, nay, I demand that you all Wordle right now!!! I really think you will like it, especially if you’re a writer or blogger or both. Or just a person who likes pretty colors.

Today’s Lesson: You should Wordle. Your Mother should Wordle. End of story.

Twitter Thinks I Suck At Flirting Too

Twitter has opinions on my love life. Very strong opinions. I had no idea Twitter was so invested in my love life. Oh, but it is. It’s very invested. So invested, that it has taken to suggesting that I follow romance novelists exclusively. I mean, I used to get suggestions for random celebrities and news organizations but now it is without exception romance novelists. Does Twitter really think this is going to help me? Apparently, it does.

Also, who do you think you are Twitter?! Getting all up in my business like that. You think you, who is nothing more than code and good marketing, can tell me what’s missing in my life? Sure, I’m not a good flirt. Sure, it’s been a while since I’ve had a relationship. Sure, I’m not very suave or charming when it comes to romance. Sure, I have a hard time speaking in front of attractive guys. Sure……oh, I see your point. Well played.

Ok, ok. I could use some help. You’ve won the argument there, but romance novels? I have a very hard time seeing how that is going to help at all. I’ve always had a distaste for these types of books. I find them to be unrealistic and the female characters weak. But, I haven’t read all that many so I could be wrong. Except for the unrealistic part. I’m pretty sure that these books are across the board extremely unrealistic. And unrealistic is the opposite of what I need. I already live too much in my imagination. I don’t need anything else in my life that pulls me from reality. Trust me, I’ve got that one more than covered. What I need, I think is something realistic. Something substantial. Something that gives me a lightbulb moment and suddenly makes flirting and romance easier. But, that seems pretty unrealistic in itself. Hmmm. Even my realistic wishes are unrealistic. Alas.

What I’m trying to say, Twitter, is this: please stop it with all the romance suggestions. Yes, you are correct in assessing that I’m lacking in that particular area of life, but your suggestions aren’t helping. In fact, they are just sort of silly. And sure, maybe I will come back to this in about 15 years when I’m really getting desperate but for now, please just go back to random celebrities as suggestions. I really do appreciate your concern but I think this is something I have to figure out for myself- without the “help” of romance novels. Ok?

Also, could I at least get more than 140 characters on my birthday? Like, as a gift? Just thought I would ask.

I am a Person. Not a Commodity.

Selling Yourself

I am a People! Not a Commodity! (He said in protest)

I really wanted to make the title of this post “I am a people. Not a commodity.” because I think that sounds funnier but then I remembered this post probably won’t be all that funny. You have been warned. Be A Lifehacker is being serious today. For real.

Have you ever known someone who seems like they are always trying to sell themselves to you? They are always talking about how intelligent, or shrewd, or clever, or wise, or strong, or business savvy, or tough, or….tall they are? Maybe you have mistaken it for ego. Maybe it is an out of control ego. But it is also something else, they want you to be sold on them. They have some sort of desperate need for validation that they really are all the things they tell everyone who will listen that they are. They collect admirers like feathers in their cap. They take great joy in telling people who they know or who speaks highly of them. They want titles alongside their name (even if those titles mean nothing to anyone else). They want to drive expensive cars that don’t quite fit their lifestyle. They relish in telling people where they live so as to see the look (real or imagined) of jealousy. You probably work with one or more of these people. They go by many names, the one-upper, the egomaniac, the douche-canoe, the tool, or simply and less imaginatively- the jackass. I am annoyed by these people. I have little tolerance for their self-centered diatribes. Unfortunately, there always seems to be a situation where I have to tolerate them, I have to fain cordiality or at least display a lack of hostility. C’est la vie, I suppose.

I think what bothers me the most is the notion of selling oneself. It is one of the things that makes me so uncomfortable about Facebook, Twitter, and MySpace. Yes, many people only use social media to connect with friends or others with similar interests but it seems to me, at least lately, that many more people are using social media to sell themselves. This shouldn’t be surprising considering the economic climate. People need to put their face’s and resumes out there to secure employment and that is quickly becoming social media’s bread and butter. But there is a difference between selling what you can do and selling who you are. I take issue with selling you you are- it’s like personality prostitution. You look at some people’s twitter accounts (and I am thinking of someone specific here but I’m sure it applies elsewhere) and their background is a picture of themselves and their icon is a picture of themselves and they have posted lots and lots of pictures of themselves- not with other people, just them. They have thousands and thousands of followers-do they really know all of these people? You can’t be sure but my guess would be no. Every post is about something great they did that day like “Made a huge sale and generated a year’s worth of revenue for my company by myself.” or “Made a huge donation to Breast Cancer Research today.” (don’t even get me started on the false altruism of statements like that….)  I like social media, in fact, I really like social media. I think it is very useful in the marketing of products. Emphasis on products. Products not people. I will happily market something I am working on (be it a novel, website, or blog) but I will not market myself. What I can do, sure. But not, absolutely not, who I am.

The worst part is when these “commodity people” as I like to refer to them try to give me advice on how I should sell myself. “Get on Facebook. Get on Twitter. Update your pictures. Sell, sell sell!” No thank you. I don’t have to be liked. If we meet and you like me then great we can get to know each other over time. If you meet me and don’t like me, that is absolutely ok, have a great life. I am a person, not a commodity. You can’t buy who I am and I won’t try to sell it to you. I am just befuddled at this attitude of desperation. Is it insecurity? I don’t know. Usually I have a pretty strong intuition about people and why they act the way they do. In this case, I can spot a “commodity people” from a mile away- but I have no idea why they are that way. Is it the emphasis on competition that is so rampant in our society? Is it a natural urge to dominate- like a natural selection thing? I don’t know. All I know is that the entire concept of marketing myself- the essence of me- is repellent. And I don’t think that “commodity people” realize that by constantly informing everyone about their “greatness” they are invalidating any greatness they may truly have. I also think that I am kind of alone in feeling this way. “Sell Yourself” is all over the internet and sites that contain methods of doing so are incredibly popular. Everyone wants to sell themselves. Except me. And I feel like Charlton Heston yelling “Soylent Green is people!!!”

Posted in Declarations, Life Tagged annoyance, charlton heston, commodity, commodity people, competitive society, desperation, douche canoe, economic climate, ego, egomaniac, , false altruism, Be A Lifehacker, insecurity, jackass, low tolerance, MySpace, natural selection, one-upper, people, personality prostitution, self-centered diatribes, sell yourself, selling a product, seriously, , soylent green is people, tool,