Posts Tagged Douche
The post where I admit that I may have branded myself stupidly. But not really. I’m just being sarcastic. Get it? Ahahahaha. Ha.
Posted by Lotus, aka Sarcastic Mom in Blogging Stuff, Humor, Miscellaneous Blabbering, Rant on March 16, 2009
Because there have been, and will continue to be, plenty of times when my posts and thoughts do not reflect the name of this website at all. And me? I couldn’t care less. But every now and again someone mentions to me that I’m not being sarcastic or whatever, and then I think about it. And I’m all anxious and nervous for a little bit, thinking OMG IT IS FINALLY OBVIOUS TO EVERYONE THAT I AM A FAILURE IN ALL THAT I DO. And then it kicks in: the not giving a shitness, but rather being annoyed at having it pointed out to me. (Because I am nothing if not a sensitive jerkface douche who can’t handle a little bit of criticism without blowing things all out of proportion. I rule.)
My real name is Lotus and I can assure you I do not smell flowery all the time. I am also not an expensive, fast sports car. I am more of a rusted pinto with a rotten fish in the back seat. Mmmm, rotten fish. Sexy.
So yeah, when I started this blog, I was in a hurry to get the show on the road, and I was sitting here going, “What should I call this thing?”
Ideas I Had:
- Call it the secret name that you have for your vagina.
- Use a couple of words that best describe who you are right now.
- Steal the name of a popular blog and then pretend you didn’t know it existed.
- Pay a hilarious and witty celebrity to name it for you.
- Call it Tit Fingers.
Outcomes:
- Then it wouldn’t be a secret anymore. Especially to myself. Since my vagina hasn’t even told me its secret name yet. We have trust issues. That’s an entirely different story. Anyway, a no-go.
- Seemed good. I asked myself, “Who am I right now?”
SAHM who interacts with son & husband more than anyone else.
Interaction with son: Mom
Interaction with husband: Sarcastic Bitch (Loving Wife would be nice, but I suck.)Example Situation: I am standing at the stove with a spatula hovering over a pancake. John comes walking into the room, says, “Oooh, are you making pancakes?” I look at him in bewildered disgust and reply, “Hell no, I’m not making pancakes. I was just minding my own business when this flapjack jumped through the window, and then tried to escape through the back door. I am aware that this flapjack is harboring secrets against our government, however, and am currently administering heat torture to force him to speak. The spatula is just to keep him at bay. Damn communist flapjack. I tell you, I won’t have it. And you? You think this is just a pancake I’m making. You are a prime example of why this country is going to hell in a hand basket. Pancakes indeed. I may have to kill you tonight.”
I find myself incapable of giving him a straight answer. “Ooh, are you making pancakes?” “Yes, dear, I am.” WILL NEVER HAPPEN.
So, it appeared I was: a) A Mom and b) An incurable sarcastic bitch in my daily life.
Sarcastic Mom
- The story I came up with to cover why I would call my blog Dooce was all about how I am obsessed with poop (Who does number two work for!?), but don’t spell well in French. Both of those things are actually true, so it’s this really awesome lie of a story made up of totally true elements. Which meant I might really even be able to pass a lie detector test and everything. Except for the part when they’d ask me if I knew that there already was a Dooce website. That and the thing about how Heather Armstrong would totally kick my ass stopped this plan dead in its tracks.
- I was really keen on this but Conan O’Brien not only started refusing my phone calls, but informed me that used tin foil, dryer lint, and desperate sexual acts are not acceptable payment and that furthermore, he’s married, wasn’t interested, and I’m stupid and ugly. Then he requested a restraining order against me. It’s okay, I know it’s all a front to keep his wife in the dark about our secret love. Which is so secret that even he is not aware of it. But it kind of made me have to go with one of the other plans again.
- This is totally still my backup blog name. I just checked; it’s available. Can you believe no one has snatched up TitFingers.com??? If this website ever disappears, and you want to find me, look that name up.
I have to warn. I might not always talk about tits. Or fingers. Or touching breasts with phalanges. You know, just FYI.
Oh, by the way, on the occasions where I say or write something that’s not sarcastic, please forget to inform me of this grave error. I know it is highly unacceptable for a person to ever say or write anything that does not perfectly reflect their moniker or website name. And yet? Look how much I care.
I really should have my ass kicked for that.
Just pretend that my not being sarcastic is just me being really sarcastic about being sarcastic.
Yeah. Stuff that in your pipe.
The Ghost of Crotchmas Past
Posted by Lotus, aka Sarcastic Mom in Humor, Miscellaneous Blabbering on December 25, 2008
I am far too much of a lazy douche to give you an original post today.***
Instead, I give you last year’s Merry Crotchmas photo:

MERRY CROTCHMAS TO YOU ALL, MAH BELOVED BEESHES.
psssst… keep clicking….
***Mail all angry rants to me at:
Lotus “Lazy Douche” Carroll
1234 Like I Give A Shit Trl
Nashville, TN 56789
This does NOT mean I have to relinquish Lazy Douche Status.
Posted by Lotus, aka Sarcastic Mom in Blogging Stuff, Miscellaneous Blabbering, Photography, Poll/Question on November 3, 2008
About Eleventy-Gajillion years ago, I told my readers, You Wonderful People, to ask me questions. And I said I would answer them.
And I answered all the ones that pertained to food or eating (because clearly, that is what I find most important) in due time. But then I kind of… you know… didn’t answer the rest of them.
And “Dana” called me out as a “lazy douche” because I wasn’t answering the questions – you know – on her time schedule. (Of course, I have no link or email address for her, but if you want, you can view her shenanigans for some good ole’ Troll Fun in the comments here.)
Now, while she was rather a bitch about it, I do need to get around to answering your questions, and so I am finally De-Douching for a few moments to bring you my answers.
I’m going to have to do this in parts, of course, because it’s impossible to get rid of all the lazy at one time. Especially when I’m pregnant. (8 Weeks now! Woo!)
Maria asked me, “I want to know – what do you do when you have an itch that you can’t reach and there’s no one else around to assist you in scratching it?”
Honestly? I go into the kitchen and get the wooden fork and scratch the hell out of my back with it. Then I put it back without washing it. So you wanna come eat at my house? You just might get some dry skin flakes in your pasta!
Ok, totally just kidding. I wash it. But I’m sure you’ll still think I’m gross. I do lots of gross things. We’re just scratching the surface here. Pun intended! I.AM.SO.FUNNY.
Dawn asked me, “Why did you decide to be a psychology major?”
Ok, there are a few things at play here. First of all, I had to choose electives when I was in high school, and one of the very few things that appealed to me at all out of the choices was Psychology. It seemed like it would be interesting. And I LOVED it.
I’m well suited for liking Psych because I am sincerely interested in why people behave the way they do, in the ways they feel, and why, and how those things can be modified. I like human beings and I want the best for them. Even if they often make me want to strangle and murder at will.
When it came time for me to choose “what I was going to do in college” there was just nothing else, other than writing, that I even gave a shit about. I didn’t care about anything else. And writing seemed like something I’d fail at – I enjoyed it but I was never confident enough about my ability. My sophmore and senior english teachers might bitch slap me for that, but it’s true.
Lastly, my dad is a psychologist, and this little girl has some daddy issues. It was a way for me to understand my father better, you dig? And for me to get closer to him, because I could understand the things he was interested in and talk to him about them.
Also, I want to screw with your head. Skillz.
Kat asked me, “If you weren’t a SAHM, what would you be doing with your time?”
This is SUCH a big “I Don’t Know!” question for me… but I’d say I’d either be teaching Psych somewhere, taking professional photographs, or writing poetry in a dark room while drinking wine and listening to creepy music.
And trying really hard not to seem pervy and threatening while staring at everyone else’s children longingly. Because, come on, I would really want a baby if I didn’t already have one!
Kerrianne asked me, “Stewart or Colbert?”
While they are both very funny, and I dig funny in a big way, I have to go with Stewart. He had my heart long ago and, frankly, he has the Hot Ass Factor. Excuse me for saying so, but Damn, okay?
Janet asked me, “how do you shoot photos of yourself? do you use a tripod? or is it really braden behind the lens?”
It depends on the photo. Sometimes I just hold the camera out in front of myself at an angle I feel is appropriate and snap. If it’s off, I try again. After a while, you get a feel for how to hold it to get what you want.

If I need a good face shot with no trial and error, I stand in front of a mirror, but I do not shoot into the mirror. Rather, I use the mirror to show me what the viewfinder sees, and I shoot straight at myself. I do NOT use a flash, to avoid blow-out at close range.
If I want both my hands in the photo, but just my face, I look for good light, put the camera down on something, and use the self-timer.
If I need full body, I use the tripod with the self timer.
And when Braden takes photos of me, they look like this:


Katie Ann asked me, “Do you have a girl’s name picked out when/if you ever have one?”
Yes! In fact I’ve had a list of girls and boys names since I was pregnant with Braden which I compiled before we knew his gender. I liked fewer boy’s than girl’s names, so there is a longer Girlie List. The thing is that I like “weird” names, and John will more than likely Veto at least 75% of the Girl Names. For example, I’m almost positive that he will never allow me to have a girl named “Ahava.” I have actually thought of slipping in some REALLY awful ones that I don’t really want, just to make the other ones seem pretty good.
Oh, and then there was the stupid moment when I put the names “Coral” and “Kara” on the list. Coral or Kara Carroll? YEAH, RIGHT.
By the way, I never knew how serious people take baby names. I’ve seen some really rude comments made about how much people hate certain names, and I’ll tell you right now, that’s dumber than a pile of shit on rocks. Hate a name? Insult someone else’s choice for naming their child? And I’m not talking about crazy names like Shittake or Lemonjello or whatever. If you have time to get really worked up over a NAME you have issues, man. Get over yourself. That’s all I’m going to say about that. I think. For now. Way to go off on a Ranting Tangent, eh?
Whew! I’m spent. How about you?
You’ll have to wait for another post to see more. Because I know you’re DYING to hear all my answers.
*snort*






















you said