In Which I Contemplate that Bodies are Beautiful, So We Don't Need Tattoos

So, I was thinking about how I would explain to someone why I don't support getting tattoos, and it led me to remember some phrase I read on a "Mom-aesthetic" Facebook post (you know the ones I mean... Random quotes, usually some joke about getting older, With the weird clip art and some cheesy font that middle-aged and older women pass around).

Anyways:

"Why don't I have tattoos? Would you put a bumper sticker on a Ferrari?"

And I think, well, that's pretty rude to all the people who DO have tattoos. What are you saying, that they aren't Ferraris, but you are? Or that they're idiots for putting the bumper stickers on their less-than car selves? Either way, it's no good.

And I don't think it makes all that much sense, anyways. Because while there are a lot of terrible tattoos out there, bad enough to be equalifized as a bumper sticker, there are a lot of really gorgeous ones, too. Incredible works of art. 

So, instead of the bumper sticker on a Ferrari analogy, I'd suggest something more like: "would you ask Picasso to paint on the side of your car?" No, because that's ridiculous. Those are two things-priceless paintings and vehicles of transportation- that have nothing to do with each other. Just like bodies and tattoos. Bodies are already works of art themselves. You don't need to add to them with permanent ink to make them beautiful, or interesting, or different. If you have a great love of art, sweet. Support artists! Just leave the ink on paper, not skin, where you can give it the proper admiration it deserves. That way, both the art AND your body get their time to shine without having to compete with each other.

In Which I Get Backup On Closet World Hate: Closet World Part III

**Note: this is the third post in a sequence about a particular commercial spreading filth and hatred throughout the San Diego county. In order for this to make complete sense, scroll down four posts to the first note, then scroll up to the next immediate entry for part two. Then it's just one jump up back to this one. Or be the little rebel you know you are and read them backward. You little rebel, you.

So, Mom and I were watching TV today, and guess what commercial came on? Mmmm-hmmm, you know it. Closet World. 

Now, it's been a few weeks since the jingle fiasco, so I didn't immediately start imploding. But then MOM starts freaking and is like, "Oh my gosh, I HATE the dancing robot guy they have in their commercials! See! There it is! It's so creepy! I hate him"

And suddenly I'm imploding for a completely different reason, and I'm trying to explain that I've 

Literally just blogged about how much I hate this commercial, but it seems like I'm trying to upstage her hate, like I'm trying to one-up-her in the dramatics (which, let's be honest, I am the most dramatic one in this entire family, if only by unintended exaggeration alone), so I just shut up and mourn lost Closet World jingle innocence.

Also, way to show that you never read my blog, Mom. Not that it's worth checking all that often because I tend to not update, but maybe once a month or so would update you on my current rants and obsessions. And settle the score, proving that Closet World commercial hatred was totally mine first. I hated it before it was cool. I'm the hipster, here. 

(PS, Mom: This is dramatic sarcasm and self-deprication used for comedic purposes, not a passive-aggressive lash-out. I don't want your feelings to be hurt. Cause every time I mention you in a post, you seem like I hurt your feelings, which is not my intention. Like when I mention the time when I was dying of food poising from Subway and you slept through it and you were upset because you felt like it showed you in a negative light, that was not my intention. I was just trying to give details that made the story even more interesting and dramatic. I thought the whole thing was funny, actually. So, yeah.)

What was my point here? Oh yeah, Closet World. The important thing to note here is: I'm not crazy. Someone else hates Closet World commercials, too. The jingle is wretched, and now that Mom mentioned it, the dancing robot guy (what is he supposed to be, anyways? He's like a disproportionate silver Michelin man) is awful too. You haven't got anything right. You may make totally sweet closet, who knows, but since I'm judging you completely on your commercial, I've concluded that you are complete rubbish. 

So, put that in your juice box and suck it, Closet World.

In Which I Try to Riddle Out the Connection Between LDS Members and the Dentistry Profession

Question: why are there so many LDS dentists? I'm pretty certain that every dentist I've ever been to has been LDS, including my orthodontist and the guy who took out my wisdom teeth. My Sunday school teacher as a early teenager was a dentist. The bishop of our old Temecula ward's counterpart ward (and good family friend) is both my mom and dad's dentist (but randomly not mine... But don't worry, my dentist is LDS, too. He's in my ward, actually. I worked with his wife in Young Women's). My mom worked for him for a while, because, that's right, she was a dental hygentist back in the day... The day before they wore gloves. My dental hygentist as a teenager was in the stake YW's presidency, so it was always super nerve racking to see her (the dentist was a member, of course). I had a friend growing up who wanted to be a dentist, but then he left the church and ended up going into the Air Force and posts pictures on Facebook of him and his buddings surrounding bongs and beer.

Not that I have anything against ex-members who join the Air Force and enjoy taking pictures of them and their friends relaxing with beer and bongs. Their just not LDS dentists. Which is the point I'm trying to make. 

....... 

Well. That was a mood wrecker. 

I suppose I'm off to go ponder some more just what makes cleaning crusty crap off other people's teeth so appealing to members of the LDS church. Or anyone, for that matter. It's just gross, you know? 

(And, you know, going to the dentist is one of the things that is like a serious bummer in life, like on a scale of mild dislike to the ninth circle of The Inferno's hell, it's pretty close to jamming with Dante for a lot of people. So just how enjoyable can it be for the dentist? I mean, unless the dude is some secret super villain, I can't imagine it being all rainbows and butterflies. But what do I know. I'm just the girl who hates toothpaste with the fiery passion of a thousand suns.)