I’ve Got Your Buckeye State Right Here

Monday, August 15, 2011 Runny nose, scratchy throat, OH NOES I have the lurgee

I’ll preface this by saying truthfully, I’ve never BEEN to Ohio. Not even one time. I mean I’ve just never had the opportunity, I’m sure Ohio is delightful and all the jokes I’ve ever made about Cleveland in particular – a city I have never been anywhere near – are totally unfounded and it’s a beautiful, clean, healthy, breathtaking city full of shiny people and goodness. Having said that…

What do you think of when you think of Ohio? Which I’m sure you all do A LOT. Am I right? Of course I am. Maybe you think of it as the gateway to the glorious, sunshiney, cornfed midwest? Maybe it seems more….corporate. I always think of “Office Space”, not because it was set there – I don’t have a clue where it was set – but it seems like it SHOULD have taken place in Ohio.

Perhaps you live in Ohio and are already sharpening a shiv out of a wooden spoon to gauge out my eyes at the first hint of a derogatory mention of your fine state? Well don’t you get all stabby with me Miss or Sir.

Despite Ohio being a midwestern state, it pays to remember that it also borders Kentucky making areas like Cincinnati more Southern than midwestern because, seriously, have you heard people from Cincinnati talk? And rumour has it they possibly have a lower ratio of teeth than in say…Cleveland. I’m just saying. You can’t argue with geography, people. Somewhere there's a teeth:geographical region pie chart in this but luckily for you all, I'm too lazy to make it.

So Ohio. What informative drivel can I tell you? Its borders are formed by The Ohio River to the south (“Great tragedy on the River Ohio!” “What’s in my hand?” “Chapstick!” AAAAAAAGH!!!! Semi obscure movie reference although the movie's set in WV. ) and Lake Erie on its northern side and it borders the states of Indiana, Michigan, Kentucky, West Virginia, Pennsylvania and Ontario, which isn’t a state at all, because it’s a province in Canada. See? Try to keep up.

Now according to the warring gods of the internetz, a total of either seven or eight presidents hailed from Ohio (they can't agree) – although perusing the list they’re mainly the ones you’ve either never heard of or you’ve vaguely heard of but wouldn’t know their faces if they got up and slapped the smirk off your face with a wet fish. Except Ulysses S. Grant. I mean who hasn’t heard of that dude? Also? Interesting observation: You never hear of anyone calling their baby “Ulysses” anymore do you? Let's start a new trend, people.

“Get to the goddamn dirty Heathens already, Veg!” I can hear you cry. Well. Keep your panties on, blogworld. I’m getting to it. Approximately 15-17% of Ohioans are not religiously affiliated and don’t see the importance of religion. You go on with your bad selves, Ohio! Despite this, its state motto is “With God all things are possible” so thanks for that, other 83-85%! I’d tell you how it compares to the other states we’ve covered but that would require going back and researching my own entries and well…clearly that’s not going to happen as I have the attention span of a stem of rhubarb. Probably from being a dirty Heathen myself. But I think it’s in the middle range somewhere. No? Perhaps?

I was interested to find out that Ohio’s state drink is tomato juice. For real. Tomato Juice. Not even a bloody Mary! Just plain tomato juice. Who knew that was even a thing? Juice without alcohol. *shakes head in wonder*.

What other facts can I tell you that will knock your socks off regarding Ohio? That the first traffic light in the United States was erected in Cleveland? Because it was. In 1914! Or that Akron Ohio is the rubber capital of the world. I don’t know about you but I am now picturing all SORTS of hilarious things going on in Akron.

That might just be me…

What else? Oh yes:

- The first hot dog was invented in Ohio.

- 50% of the population of the United States lives within a 500 mile radius of Columbus, Ohio. For real. 50 percent. Holy shit.

- Cleveland was the world’s first city to be electrically lit. Yes really!

- The first cash register was invented in Dayton, Ohio.

See? Don’t say I never teach you anything. Now wasn't that all riveting? Aren't you happy it's over? I'M happy it's over.

Connecticut: Spelled Funny, Smells Funnier

Wednesday, April 27th, 2011 – leftover chocolate, knee squeaking, large albatross like bird projectile shitting on window

Howdy, my little jelly beans!  Are we all ready to learn something, humongously interesting about Connecticut?  Well get comfortable and let’s begin! 

What can I tell you, weary blogland, about the great state of Connecticut?  Connecticut has a ‘c’ in the middle just to confuse people.  Not me though.  I am a spelling God.  As most of you know, Connecticut is technically a state in the New England area, although we all know that really it’s just New York City’s bitch.  Some people would have you believe it has its own personality and awesomeness ratio, but it’s just a suburb of NYC, let’s be brutally honest here. 

Now let’s get down to business.  Connecticut was the fifth state of the original 13, and nowadays is a small, densely populated pudding of posh, hoity toity, wealthy residents and people who’d murder your granny for a sniff of cheap scotch and even cheaper ladies’ panties. 

The state’s name is an English bastardization of the original Algonquian name “quinatucquet” which translates loosely as, “big, superfluous suburb of New York” or I may be lying, but I don’t think so.  Its early settlers were Dutch and English and fights constantly broke out in the neighbourhood over who wore the silliest garb – the English with their powdered white wigs or the Dutch with their giant, comical wooden shoes.  Occasionally, an unfortunate interbreed would don both and be executed for witchcraft.   Or I could have totally made that up, I’ll let you decide.

The thing most people like to say about Connecticut, apart from the whole NYC thing is, “Yah, yah, I like…went to Yale, I am totally rich and ivy league smart!”  and then they recount the time they rented a mini bus in the dead of night to drive up to Harvard and play a totally bitchin’ prank on those Masshole losers by replacing their team mascot with a bald chicken or something equally, scorn inducing.  We’ll be impressed when you replace their mascot with a UNICORN, Yaley.

Ready for the obligatory heathen count?  Don’t get too excited.  According to Wikipedia, which incidentally will accept information from any clearly drunk and illiterate person with a keyboard, only 1% of Connecticutters (heh!) are heathens, but I’m inclined to not quite believe that statistic, especially since the list of percentages for all the different religious entities was suspiciously long and when I used my vast arithmetic skills to add up the percentages of Connecticut’s religious residents, it equalled 148%. Which, I don’t know about you, seems just a little fishy, when you consider THERE CAN ONLY BE 100%.

Which is what happens to your mathematical logic when you’re relegated in people’s minds from “state with its own identity” to “giant suburb of New York”.

Despite this impressive exploitation of the percentage rules, Connecticut is a fairly Democratic state and one of the few states in the US which not only recognizes same sex marriage, but never repealed this law.  Way to go, CT, recognizing our gay brothers and sisters!

Last, and very definitely least, everyone’s favourite fuck-up, George W. Bush was born in Connecticut, although luckily for the locals he was ejected because he couldn’t SPELL “Connecticut” and he exiled himself to Texas, got a cowboy accent and a big hat and proceeded to suck the life out of the English language from thousands of miles away.  Rumours that his first words after leaving office, were, “Laura, let’s git on with barbecuin’ and executin’ and we gots all the oil, LOL!” are unconfirmed at this time.

And that’s it for Connecticut.  Except, did I mention it was really just a suburb of New York City?

If It’s Thursday, It Must Be Florida

Thursday, March 31st, 2011 – yawning, full of veggie burger goodness, possible flatulence alert

Continuing our series of most informative and certifiably true essays on the United States, what has palm trees, grown adults dressed as animals cuddling small children, Dexter, more elderly Jewish Brooklynites than Brooklyn, a metric fuckton of retirees, Justin Timberlake, The Gulf of Mexico, alligators and dudes with ‘70s’ porn moustaches dressed as Mickey (Minnie) Mouse? That’s right! Florida!

Florida’s an interesting state. It’s got a little bit of everything and the little bit of everything that it has, is sweaty from all the humidity and the tears of terror from the rest of us who have to witness grown men, without a hint of irony, stomping around in flip flops and Cuban shirts with large ladies squeezed into dubious capri pants. If you want to fit in in Florida allow me to give you a few important pointers that might keep you alive.

1) Forget sunscreen. It is not your friend. Nothing screams “I am a tourist, rob me!” quite like a lobster red sunburn and and a constipated walk because your feet are too swollen for shoes, so put on some frying oil well in advance and get nice and crispy. Then don a NASCAR t-shirt, cargo shorts and maybe even a panama hat and act like you’re cool.

2) Drive like your last meal consisted of a mixture of mushrooms (but not the kind you’d put on a pizza if you get my drift), Chef Boyardee Ravioli and some strong barbiturates. Be sure to stop for no reason, abruptly, in the middle of intersections to argue with your portly wife, who is poured attractively into some sausage casing polyester pants, in an eye-melting colour that’s illegal in many states, then proceed to continue driving at ten miles an hour, weaving all over the road with your turn signal blinking for five miles, before suddenly upping your speed to 85 and cutting off a truck at the lights.

3) Your car would look awesome with that confederate flag rear windshield, decal.

4) Change your name to either “Vern”, “Cooter” or “Miguel”.

5) If you’re over 60, treat yourself to an electric scooter which you can drive anywhere, anytime, while blatantly disregarding all road rules, etiquette or the fact that murder by electric scooter is illegal. If you have the big, hairy balls to ride it down the fast lane of the I75 in rush hour, even better.

6) Talking of balls…get some. For your manly truck.

What else? Florida is home to that scorching hell known as “Disneyworld”. I mean I have nothing against Disneyworld per se. If they would just serve free beer and remove all the damn kids who get in my way and let me enjoy the rides all day on my own, before puking all over myself, I would LOVE Disneyworld.

Did you know that Florida is the only place in the USA that has crocodiles? And that sadly, they’re not in Disneyworld? They’re only found in the southern part of the state (the rest has alligators) and they’d like to eat you. But it’s so hot, with Florida being the hottest state in the country, that they can’t usually be bothered.

As well as being the hottest state, it’s also the most tornado and hurricane prone, so if you’re not a big fan of wind, I’d go someplace less blowy.

 In addition to this, it tragically has the largest proportion of tiny sundresses on gigantic ladies, in all the free world. You might not find that statistic in any books, but it doesn’t mean it’s not true. I do my own research! Who are you going to trust, some fancy book or me?

Heathens? 16%. I knew you’d want to know. Most of that percentage is accounted for by the fact the Keys exist and they are full of delicious sin. Like margaritas the size of a bathtub and other tropically seductive hijinx. They’re also full of really rancid, nasty sin like Jimmy Buffet music and pretentious idiots posing outside Hemingway’s abode with a serious look on their faces.

I know this is a bit abrupt, but my brain’s still on vacation. Feel free to put your tuppence worth in.

Update: I can only assume I was totally high when I wrote this last night, due to the unforeseen amount of typos. I think I changed the more offensive ones though.

New Jersey, Old Jokes

Friday, February 18th, 2011 – I have officially resigned my brain, no sleep, dull

What can I say about New Jersey that you don’t already know, or at least, think you know, i.e., that it’s a steaming hotbed of Bruce Springsteen, heavy industry, guidos, The Sopranos and big hair?

New Jersey is known as “the garden state”, a fact that’s puzzling to many since gardens aren’t really the first thing that spring to mind when you think of New Jersey. They might be the seventh. (The first six are Jon Bon Jovi.)

Talking of Bon Jovi, I was reading earlier that New Jersey has the densest population of any state in the United States. I thought that was kind of mean really. I mean they can’t ALL be moronic, tiny, gnome-like loudmouths with big hair who write bad song lyrics, right? Then I realized it actually meant that NJ is the most heavily populated state and well, didn’t I feel stupid! And more than a little surprised, since that had sounded entirely plausible to me.

Simmer down, I’m kidding, Jersey folks.

Anyway, industrial northern New Jersey is probably what most of us think of when we think of New Jersey, which we tend to do only when we’re forced to, usually because we have to get from New York to Philadelphia in a hurry and because New Jersey’s the only thing standing in the way. By the way, have you ever driven on the New Jersey Turnpike? It’s delightful. People driving like they’re on meth, at 90 mph and weaving all over the road? That’s where I learned my giant swear vocabulary you know – on the NJ turnpike. My only guess is they drive like that because they’re frantically doing their utmost to get out of Jersey and into Delaware or New York before it gets dark.

Wait, what was I saying about northern Jersey? Well there’s a lot of industry. End of story. It has Newark Airport, full of lots of indifferent TSA agents all vying to make your day of travel even more miserable. Oh and Elizabeth, NJ has some big docks. And more importantly, an Ikea.

One of the things NJ is famous for, other than John Travolta, Stephanie Plum and people called “Vinnie”, is the Jersey Devil – a hairy creature, descended from an old Jersey whore, and which is rumoured to be roaming the rural backwoods of Southern New Jersey. Various people have reported sightings of this fearsome beast over the decades, but I think there’s a severe possibility that it’s merely Snooki squeezed into a tiny dress several sizes too small and lost after a night out drinking tequila shots and being punched in the face by frat boys.

How about something you like about NJ, Veg, you don’t cry. Well, it’s funny you didn’t ask, because I like that it’s illegal to pump your own gas in Jersey. A dude still comes and does it for you like it’s 1955. His name’s probably Vernon or something. He has a wife named Vera, two kids (Skip and Judy) and drives a Buick with white wall tires.

What else? Oh yes, I believe there’s an ongoing skirmish between New Jersey and New York about who actually rightfully owns the Statue of Liberty. New Jersey claims it’s on their land (or water) and New York’s all, “Hey, fugeddaboudit that bitch is ours!” and people insult other people’s mamas and sulk in corners and yell insults in faux American-Italian accents. NJ gets the tiny, loud, orange goblin from “Cake Boss” to come in and throw a hissyfit. Insults are hurled. New York starts to cry. NJ then brings out the big guns by getting first son Danny De Vito involved. It’s ugly. (And he’s no oil painting either.) NY maintains principal ownership of the statue, although I believe technically it’s supposed to be shared. I would go look it up to be really accurate, but really, do you care? I don’t care. Fuck that.

Back to religion. So far NJ is a winner in one category – heathenism. Between 15 and 20% of people in NJ are not religious. Which really should endear it to me more than it does. And it’s actually a surprise because with all those Italian Guidos running around, you’d think they’d be a pretty Catholic state, no? Even though Guidos seem to break all the commandments and also a few that weren’t even invented.

I think that’s about it. I could go on, but I’ve already shortened this about three times and it’s not endearing me to the NJ populus much, so maybe it’s time to quit before someone tries to cut my throat. In the words of famous New Jerseyite, Gloria Gaynor, let me just give you a fist pump, New Jersey, and yell “I will survive!”

Next week come to California!

The State of The Nation – Massachusetts

Friday, February 11th, 2011 – I must have a Coke Or People Will Die, painting self-portrait, I’m a zombie

It’s that time again, people. It’s like knowing your taxes are due or your annual review is pending. Yep, it’s time to learn some more ominous stuff about the United States – fifty separate little countries bound by one great big law. Or something. This week is Massachusetts, due to popular demand by one person (Jess).

Not only can I spell Massachusetts without looking it up (seriously, go me!) but I still, even as a grown up lady, get a real kick out of calling it “Massive Two Tits”. Because I can.

Now what can I tell you?

Well one, Massachusetts is apparently a commonwealth. I don’t know if that’s supposed to make it more fancy than other states, but it doesn’t work. Because no matter how fancy you think you are, your capital is still Boston, home of beans, chowder, Ally McBeal, Mark Wahlberg and that accent.

Two: Massachusetts is shaped like a gun to scare off Yankees’ fans. It doesn’t work.

Three, some people unkindly call people from Massachusetts “Massholes” but I would never be so rude. Particularly because some of you have few teeth and fists like hams (allegedly) and might show up on my doorstep with a machete and malice in your eyes telling me you’re going to “paahk your cah” on my head.

Four, according to the gospel of all that is real, Wikipedia, Massachusetts is a hotbed of higher education, advanced technology, healthcare advances and financial services. Yeah, you just get all smug about your big brains, Massachusetts. Just remember this. You also produced eternal frat boy Dane Cook and Mr. James Spader, or as I like to call him, “Mr. Creepy Pedo Lips”.

…not to his face or anything, you understand.

Moving swiftly on, Boston, back in the day, was the scene of the infamous Boston Tea Party, mainly because where else would you have something called “The Boston Tea Party”? It was some protest against the British taxing tea or some such thing I was too lazy to learn about because it involved true things and OH MY GOD, BORING, but it was something to do with Bostonians pouring copious amounts of tea into Boston Harbour. I don’t know about you, but that sounds like a really shitty party to me. Particularly when there’s a dude called “Sam Adams” involved and we all know his beer is the tits. Maybe instead of dropping tea in the harbour they could’ve drunk some of that? Now THAT would be a party. Seriously, if someone asked me to their house for a party and proceeded to give me tea and said, “pour this down the toilet, it’ll be a blast!” I’d kick them in the nuts.

So how many friends of the Lord are there in Massachusetts, I hear you yell, because you just know I’m getting to it. Turns out 16% of people are dirty heathens like me, which I think you’ll agree is a big improvement on 6% from South Carolina last week. Wiki also claims 7% refused to answer which I’m pretty sure they did just to fuck with me. Or because they like Satan. So there’s your answer. At least 77% and as much as 84% of residents adore God, with the vast majority also approving Jesus.

To close, Massachusetts’ state insect is the ladybug (awww!) and its Gross State Product is Ben Affleck.
Don’t say I never teach you anything.