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August, 2015
Archive

  • The Goddess Journey From Divinity to Salad Dressing

    The other day I was going to hang out with my friend, and had the bright idea of bringing us lunch. I stopped at one of our favorite organic new-age yoga-hipster pretentious restaurants, and picked up two “goddess bowls.” When I got to her house, we were debating when to eat said “goddess bowls,” because she had also made popcorn we had to ingest… along with tomato mozzarella bruschetta, and some cookies. Oh, we were super high obviously.

    Toni: Do you want to have our goddess bowls now?
    My Friend: Sure, let me go get them!
    Toni: Will you put my goddess bowl in an actual bowl?
    My Friend: No problem.
    Toni: Isn’t it kind of insane that it’s totally okay to call some rice, veggies, and sauce a goddess bowl? In what context would you ever make a meal, and refer to it as a “god plate?” That would be considered seriously sacrilegious to use God as the logo for your product, yet it’s completely acceptable for the Goddess to sell sprouts and tahini?

    Yeah, fine, there is no current western religion that acknowledges the goddess as their spiritual icon, but the historical significance is still vastly relevant! At the inception of our human journey the goddess was the object of divine worship. The history of religion begins with a reverence of the female life-giving principle. Fertility of crops was crucial to survival, and early man saw the connection between what sustained their life, and mother Gaia female energy. So how the fuck did the Goddess become a notion that is so devalued that it is totally okay to use as a marketing ploy for hippies to buy salad dressing?

    I’m not saying that every woman has to become a Wiccan, and gather the uterine lining of a wolf and paint her face with canine blood ancestry to dance naked under the full moon – but we can hold the concept of the Goddess to a higher standard! In order for the feminine counterpart to regain her significance, we can’t allow her identity to be so flippantly used.

    This Goddess comes in “light” so your fat ass doesn’t get any fatter

    (PS I actually love Goddess dressing)

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    August 31, 2015 • Musings • Views: 1298

  • ASMR is the Weirdest Shit on the Internet

    We all know there is some weird shit on the Internet. If you want to see a video of a dude peeling a lemon while pissing in his own mouth and singing God Bless America in Russian, you could find it. If you can imagine it, someone has filmed themselves doing it, and probably added to your vision a coffee cup filled with caterpillars that they shove up their butt.

    I don’t know about you, but I think the strangest thing floating around our virtual network are these ASMR videos where chicks whisper into the corners of their computer, fuck with hairbrushes, and role-play measuring you for a suit. Sometimes they pretend to cut your hair, or crinkle bags of Ramen soup. There is also a fair amount of lip smacking, which I personally find so annoying that it makes me want to itch my teeth and punch a nun in the cunt.

    ASMR stands for “autonomous sensory meridian response,” and supposedly certain sounds trigger listeners into a tingly euphoric trance. They reportedly experience “brain orgasms” which sounds messy, and probably a real pain to get out of your hair. These videos are usually disturbingly long, and if you are not the type of person who is titillated by these auditory stimulants, they are more boring than watching your grandmother eat soup.

    If you haven’t seen them, seriously, give this one a try.

    I’m not going to deny the possibility that some are soothed by this soft-spoken vixen. I guess one could become mesmerized by her make-believe grooming. Sure! Anything is possible. Hell Donald Trump is running for office non-ironically.

    What I am saying however, is I seriously don’t fucking get it.

    Nonetheless, I did make my own ASMR hairbrush video just for your pleasure.

    August 26, 2015 • Musings • Views: 3767

  • The Life Of an Artist is Just an Extended Childhood

    As an anti-conventional free-spirited hippy parent that wants my child to take down the system and plan a revolution, sometimes the idea of orthodox schooling disturbs me. Part of me thinks it’s important to learn how to function within the framework society has pre-established as necessary. Yet if my kid never conforms to that regimented approach, and instead commits her energy fully to a more creative life, then she would hopefully develop the skills to carve a different path. One where she is not contributing to the capitalist system that is currently sodomizing all of humanity – without even the decency of lube.

    The Munch has one more year at her idyllic Waldorf preschool where they frolic through the forest floor while a pan like creature plays a lute, and innocence is as abundant as leaves on trees. Yet soon she will have to go to school, sit at a desk, and be scolded for staring out he window. At least that would be the “normal” trajectory.

    If I were to project any dreams onto my child it is that she would live outside the confines of culture, and question it rather than submissively participate in it. I want to encourage her to define her own reality- not bow down to a soul sucking structure. What if she spent the rest of her life creating one giant art project!?

    Every kid on planet earth likes art when they are young. They all do artistic things naturally as part of the everyday shit that kids do. They gravitate towards art on their own. Not that many children are like “I want to learn about macro-economics today mommy,” but they all will sing the fuck out of the ABC’s.

    How kids play and enjoy life is the nascent stage of becoming an artist. All artists are just grown ups that were able to hold onto their childhood interests! Picasso was once a little brat who liked drawing noses where the ears should be. He just got really really good at it. So basically if you practicing playing really hard – eventually you could become an artist.

    When I think about what The Munch actually LIKES to do right now, and if she just were to concentrate on her playing, she’s got some pretty good life options a head of her!

    This is her average day, and the potential if she just keeps at it.

    1) Makes up Songs about “My Little Ponies” killing each other with magic powers: She could be a singer/song writer.
    2) Shakes her body around: She could be a dancer.
    3) Plays pretend with her dolls/My Little Pony’s: She could be an actor, director, or screenwriter. (PS these games are complicated as fuck and involve a variety of characters that talk in distinct voices and have very complicated backstories. I can’t just jump in and insist that “Pinkie Pie” can fly to Nightmare garden because according the to The Munch “Pinkie Pie” does not have wings!!!!!)
    5) Wraps herself in material: Totally high fashion designer
    4) Tells poop and fart jokes: She could be a comedian.

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    August 24, 2015 • 5 years old, Education, Musings, Parenting • Views: 1364

  • How To Know Which Dude To Breed With?

    Now that I’m in my 30’s – I am surrounded by women who are dealing with their fertility. I have friends that have no interest in procreating, some who are squatting out babies, and others that are squatting on men to try and make some. No matter what their choice, the 30’s are the time when it’s on our minds, and we ladies have to make a decision.

    To breed or not to breed. That is the question.

    If you don’t want to have kids, there is a beautiful freedom to that. There is no pressure to settle down, or find a guy you have to deal with. (Sorry that was my auto correct. I meant to say get to spend your life with because love is eternal). You can be more open to a relationship happening anytime anywhere because there isn’t that impending biological clock knocking you over the head to get knocked up.

    Yet when you want kids, (unless you are down to do it on your own), the current paradigm is so find some guy to go on the journey with you. Of course in an ideal world we could have babies, live in women’s communes, watch each other’s children, and take on lovers as we please. But unless you are ready to hang out with a chick named Chakra and whittle wood, people in intentional polyamorous communities are still pretty wacky.

    Since I lived in NYC for so long, there is large portion of my friends who are single, are into the idea of birthing children, yet don’t know whom they want to produce with. When you live in an urban environment, you tend to have a lot of options of potential DNA to blend with yours. There is that cute skater, the guy that works at the office across from yours, or the dude at the green juice bar that always adds EXTRA ginger for you. Awww shucks, you know how I need to clean out my system juice guy!

    Potential men to poke you are everywhere! Yet they are also nowhere because post-modern people really suck. Guys that text you at 1am asking “wassup,” or that care more about egos than they do about you. The world is filled with narcissists, douche bags, and greedy fucks. And if you happen to find a nice one, you probably think he’s too nice, making it too easy, and then don’t give him the time of day – humans are absurd!

    The other great question is who to make babies with?! How do you know who is the guy you want to hang around for the next 18 years? Of course there is the obvious. Is he a murderer? Has he ever worshipped the devil? Does he drink Diet Dr. Pepper? Yet assuming he is kind, self sufficient, and folds his own laundry, then how do you know if you found the one to give your ovaries to!?

    Here is my Toni Bologna checklist to help you make this pivotal decision.

    1) Do you like sleeping with him once a week?
    2) Do you like eating with him?
    3) Do you like watching TV with him?

    That’s pretty much it.

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    August 19, 2015 • Musings, Sex Stuff, Vagina Stuff, Women's Business • Views: 2869

  • Getting Stoned and Being All One with The Universe

    Last week was a meteor shower. Since I live in the country, I had to make the effort to appreciate that biological phenomenon and shit. If I didn’t get all up in that stargazing, then what the hell is the point of being here? Part of living in nature is getting down with it…. Aww yeah.

    Wednesday was the pinnacle of this celestial occurrence, and I decided I would take it seriously. I woke up in the middle of the night, brought a blanket out into a dewy field, and watched the comets fly for 3 hours. I mused about the meaning of my existence, contemplated the future of humanity, marveled at the beauty of our boundless skyward landscape, and prayed that my future would be spiritually fulfilling.

    There was something so awakening about allowing the stardust to pour over me, and surrendering to the mysteries of the space. I felt so at peace with the unknown. I allowed myself to melt into the dark matter, and revel in the expansiveness.

    The next night my friend was visiting, and she suggested we smoke pot before looking at the stars. Now I haven’t been stoned in a few months because I have been so busy working and stressing out, so the thought of puffing on some weed was a pretty damn good idea. Yet every time I take breaks from being high, I get a little tentative, and fear I will get TOO high.

    But that doesn’t stop me!!

    Soooooo…. I took one small hit, and was totally fine. A half hour later, I took another. All good. Nothing unexpected. No big deal. Just two girls appreciating the beauty of all things while staring at balls of light while they fly through the sky.

    So I did what any normal person would do. Took one more HUGE hit!

    I knew I was in trouble, but I was trying to be chill, so I didn’t mention anything. I lay back down, looked at the sky, and tried to play it cool. Then all of a sudden I could see the stars moving towards the right, and feel as the earth rotated to the left.

    Toni: Dude. I can seriously feel the earth spinning on its axis, and floating through space.
    My Friend: It’s like I’m on acid right now.
    Toni: I think I’m gonna barf. I’m too aware of the earth moving, and it’s going so fast!!!! I’m super dizzy! We have to get off this ride!!!

    I was official wayyyyy to high.

    We started walking back to my house, and even though I was really trying to keep it together, I was also totally losing it.

    Toni: Dude, smoking made me too open. I don’t think I can handle being connected to all things right now. I don’t want to be a conduit for the eternal bonds of molecules. I can’t be a vessel for the cosmos to pass through. I have to go eat a bunch of chocolate, dull my senses, and just be a normal person who isn’t one with the universe.

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    August 17, 2015 • Adventures, Musings • Views: 1413

  • Munch The Magician

    It turns out The Munch fancies herself a magician, and yesterday she put on a magic show for me. Here are some of her most famous tricks to date.

    1) The transforming quarters: This trick consisted of her placing two quarters in my hands. She then had me “close my eyes.” While my eyes were closed, she replaced the quarters with two sunflower seeds. MAGIC!
    2) The disappearing babysitter: This very tricky trick was executed by having me close my eyes, Munch taking her babysitter by the hand, and bringing then her into another room. When I opened my eyes again, her babysitter had disappeared. MAGIC!
    3) The transmuting book: With this trick I was told to look at a book and then… wait for it… wait for it… close my eyes. When I opened them again the book was gone, and in its place was a bloody pencil that Munch had colored with red crayon. FUCKING MAGIC!

    Later that night The Munch was asking me how I liked her magic show, and I suggested that maybe she try a few tricks that could be accomplished when my eyes were…. I don’t know… open!? That perhaps it would be more impressive if she could create an illusion that I could actually see. She took in this information, then looked at me with a stern expression: “But mom, when you close your eyes, that’s when the magic happens!”

    MAGIC!

    This is Munch’s Magic Show sign made by her and Spencer (the babysitter)

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  • It turns out the Market is Over Saturated with Vagina!

    A writer for Vanity Fair, Nancy Jo Sales, did an expose on the dating lives of 20-somethings in NYC – looking into how “hook-up” culture has impacted their sexuality.

    According to this article, financial fuck wads who work at Wall Street are getting laid left and right. Because of Tinder/Hinge/ STD Transfer Ultimate App, guys like Alex can, “rack up 100 girls I’ve slept with in a year.” That’s a lot of condoms A-rod 😉 I hope you’ve diversified your portfolio and invested in Trojan!

    It today’s fast pace world, a sweet talker like Marty can sleep with at least 40 women over a fiscal year by this pretty impressive strategy. He simply, “sort of plays that I could be a boyfriend kind of guy, in order to win them over, but then they start wanting me to care more … and I just don’t.” BRILLIANT WORK MARTY!

    What I find most horrifying about this article is not that people in their 20’s want to get naked and bump crotches. Nor that Men think it’s “cool” to flip through women like a Golfer’s Digest at the dentist’s office. The problem isn’t that modern women are “too easy” and it’s effecting intimacy for all. NO! The alarming part of this story is who are these women that sleep with guys who work on Wall Street?!! Especially ones named Marty!?

    When I lived in NYC I was once at this fancy club where a Wall Street guy tried to hit on me. I started asking him about sub prime mortgages and if he ever invested in triple bottom line socially responsible businesses – and his dick got soft in front of my eyes. He RAN away from me, never to return.

    I guess talking to me is like the anti-Viagra for Wall Street men.

    But ladies, it is our civic responsibility to question the ethics of these guys and shame them for their business practices, not reward them with the pot of gold betwixt our thighs!

    If women want to sleep with 2,000 guys on Tinder then god bless them. Just not Wall Street guys! We can’t flood their market with our precious poonanies. NO!! We have keep them wrapped up tight and create a deficit. The pussy stock will rise if we generate scarcity.

    As long as these guys are boning chicks, they are going to keep living their lives thinking they are god’s gift, and continue making repulsive decisions about business. They will wake up feeling justified, and morally unambiguous that their profit models are destroying the planet. Let’s not waste our time slut shaming young women of the world, but redirecting their lady parts towards more deserving men!

    So my fellow females… sleep with as many guys as you want during the exploration of your sexual identity. Just not douchey finance dickheads! Have sex with that tortured artist, the dude with scraggily ponytail making your green juice, or the guy who started that solar company. Go give that nerd head who’s trying to find alternative fuel sources. Let him bust a nut on your tits!

    PLEASE… NOT THESE GUYS

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    August 10, 2015 • Current Events, Musings, Vagina Stuff, Women's Business • Views: 2953

  • WHAT IS THE POINT OF HIKING?

    When I go hiking, my objective is to get to the end of the trail. I am NOT the type of person who can trek half way up a mountain, and then turn around. No fucking way. If I start walking up a goddamn hill, you bet your sweet ass I am going to get to the top!

    I am definitely not one to dilly dally, dawdle, or meander. I wouldn’t dream of straying from the trail. I look straight ahead and propel my body forward. I don’t take breaks. EVER! I barely stop for water, and certainly wouldn’t dream of eating – that would slow me down! I’ve got places to go!!

    So can you imagine my horror when I realized that I have given birth to the type of hiker who wants to linger and explore!?

    This was my experience hiking with The Munch.

    .1 miles in: “Mom! Lets go check out these rocks over there!” (She jumps over rocks for 10 minutes).

    We get back on the path and walk 25 feet. “Hey, look at this right here. These rocks! Let’s go check them out!” (She plays on rocks for another 5 minutes.)

    “Mom, I am hungry! Let’s have snack!” (She eats a bar).

    We walk 100 feet farther down the path: “MOM!! Check out these rocks! Let’s go over here! Aren’t these so cool!?” (More rock playing).

    We get back on the path. “Mom. I’m hungry again. Can I have my seaweed chips?”

    She walks WITH her seaweed chips for .2 miles.

    “Mom, let’s take a little rest. Can I have some of my sammich?”

    She eats half, of a half, of her sammich.

    Back on the path for 20 feet.

    “Mom, can I have the other half, of that half, of my sammich.”

    She stops, finishes that half, and we walk 80 feet.

    “Mom, can I have some water?”

    She drinks water, we walk .2 miles.

    “Mom!! Check out this hill! Can I go up it?”

    I remind her that the hill is NOT on the path, and we should continue on the path.

    “Ummm I think I’m going to go up and down this hill a few times. Will you come with me? PLEASE!?”

    I again remind her that said hill is NOT the path.

    “COME ON MOM! PLEASE!”

    We go up and down the hill a few times.

    “Can I have the other half of my sammich?”

    She eats her sammich.

    This was my experience for the ENTIRE 3 MILE HIKE!! And get this. SHE DIDN’T EVEN CARE ABOUT GETTING TO THE END OF THE TRAIL! She just wanted to enjoy nature, look around, take breaks, eat snacks, and investigate the terrain. I guess where I am more “goal oriented,” The Munch is more “process oriented.”

    OF COURSE THE UNIVERSE GAVE ME A CHILD WHO APPRECIATES THE JOURNEY NOT THE OUTCOME – TO TORTURE ME!

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  • The Problem With Modern Media

    When I read a story in the mainstream media, I immediately question its validity. News sources are dependent on corporate backing to make a profit, so they’re unquestionably compromised. It doesn’t make business sense to expose the companies that write your paychecks. We know this, which is why the invention of the Internet was such an exciting prospect. Suddenly there was this prospect that we could get information that would circumvent the CEOs who probably feast on baby blood in the night. You know, to stay young and all.

    But the problem with the blogosphere is the main way to make money is by getting a sponsorship from some business… so what the dick? I get approached all the time to blog about some product as if I actually felt compelled to write about a vegetable slicer – which if you need one btw, the “Ultimate Slice Fest” is the one to buy!

    You could be reading something you think is authentic – like someone going on and on about how dope the iWatch is, and insisting it won’t ruin your life or ability to connect to anyone or anything – but they are in truth just a marketing ploy for Apple.

    When writers are not getting paid for their work, then they tend to jump on the bandwagons of viral stories so they can get for clicks, eyeballs, and looksies. Every story becomes like a feeding frenzy of vultures. For example, when the Rachel Dolezal story broke, everyone pounced on it, ripping this human apart, rather than approaching the subject with curiosity and respect.

    Stories become more about tearing people to shreds rather than reporting information. In order to get attention, writers claw over each other and into the eyes of their subjects just to be seen. The amount of “likes” and “shares” supersede the need for humanity. People embark into a culture of shame just to make a name for themselves. Tom Brady should kill himself because he doesn’t like to throw footballs that have air in them. Stuff like that. Just as quickly as we build people up, we will push them off the pedestal into a mound of dog poop.

    When the Internet first started blossoming, I had this assumption that with the democratization of media, there would be less corruption in business and politics. I assumed that conspiracy theories would no longer be seen as fringe media, but viable alternative perspectives of the obvious dishonesty of those in power.

    Maybe there was a moment when the lizard elite were like, “holy fuck, we can’t hide our creepy agenda anymore because now everyone knows about our secret societies and demonic ways.” There were huge movements built around taking down government lies. Endless websites exposing the Federal Reserve, 9/11, chem trails, the moon landing…. Yet now there are TOO many theories out there, and the deluge dilutes the potency of them.

    I am sure the truth is out there, but it’s buried under a mass of bologna insisting aliens rule the planet, the moon doesn’t exist, and Denver National airport is actually hell on earth. On second thought, maybe all that is accurate.

    Awww the lizard elite are kinda cute!

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    August 3, 2015 • Current Events, Musings • Views: 1735