OXO Stainless Steel Turner
This one is for the single homies out there, struggling to keep your dearly beloved off your ass.
If spatulas could be assholes, than OXO Stainless Steel Turner would take the crème de la crème title of fuckboí utensils. May you rot in kitchen tool mediocrity. Seriously, what the fuck are you even turning? No one even wanted to buy you. You were literally a throw in just to test whether or not the shipping address for the registry was correct. The reason for that? Because my girlfriend and I were already, give or take, a few hefty captain n' cokes and spill-proof sippy cups of chardonnay deep, in addition to what I would assume be five jager bombs each, and frantically needed to order wedding gifts for our dear friends.
My tablet wasn't cooperating with the registry, so we tried hers instead. I had blown my capitalistic load a little too early and already marked off our selected items from the registry as "bought". So, when trying to create the list again on her tablet, we could not select the items. Essentially, we had to create another shopping cart, separate from the registry, and pick one item from the registry just to get the right address tagged onto the delivery. I think that's how it happened at least. Again, alcohol. Either way, that's why this stupid piece of shit spatula saw the light of day. The funny part? I'm pretty sure it was shipped separately from the main purchases. You know, the ones we actually wanted for our friends. I can only imagine them receiving this piece of shit by itself and instantly reconsidering their friendships with us. Love you, Shara and Lyndsey. We hope it lasted longer than the review I quoted above. I digress.
It's an interesting and inevitable scenario. As you get older, you come face to face with what I'll call the social & lifestyle tax. So there are two parts to this tax. There's the social aspect, such as birthdays, graduations, promotions, house warming's, holidays, et cetera. Then, there's the lifestyle aspect of marriage, babies - you know, shit people stumble into. I didn't realize until about a year ago that there is an odd, implied connotation to these events. My girlfriend introduced me to the plight of the unmarried, unburdened, no-child having individual that keeps to themselves and has yet to embark down the cookie cutter path that most of us will desire at one point or another. The more people you know, the more OXO Stainless Steel Turner's you have to buy.
Let me quote someone I may, or may not have intercourse with, who just so eloquently expressed what is most likely her biggest pet peeve when it comes to this tax:
I had never heard of a fucking push gift. Like, just the name alone. We're rewarding contractions now? And before you jump down my throat, I respect the birthing process and have the utmost reverence for mothers. Break down the math doe'. This girl I may, or may not be talking to and occasionally have intercourse with; her sister has three kids and her brother has two now. Let's break it down and say it's a minimum of $50 per child a year. This is counting birthdays, Christmas, and whatever various holidays when we decide kids need shit. Then you have all of the other scenarios mentioned before that'll require gifts. Speaking of a pretty penny, I invite you to look at the Lego section at Target. They've duped us into paying $45.99 for a 24-piece set of plastic pieces that cost pennies to make by some poor overlooked & overworked mother fuckers in Asia. I also implore you to not fulfill any of this shit, and watch how quickly you become a pariah. At one point you look around and realize that not only do you feel socially awkward having been left behind in your care-free state, but that you are literally paying for acceptance from your peers and family.
And please understand, I'm not mad at this. I just enjoy looking for holes that are primed for poking. A lot of this is a throwback to simpler times where we lived in small communities and essentially depended on one another for support. A time where our emotional and monetary resources were more easily spreadable. And that's a beautiful thing; a thing that I believe anyone would wish for because quite simply, life is hard. I don't believe in keeping score sheets when it comes to life. They remove all sense of an altruistic motive. You do good things because you are compelled too, not because you're suppose to. And not because you owe anyone anything. Again, life is hard. I wouldn't want to have to shell out so much for diapers. I also wouldn't want to ask anyone for help, but would be so humbled and grateful for it. Societies are built upon the cooperation of peers, and in order to have basic living standards I feel like everyone has the duty to contrib...
...Well, what about when mother fuckers start to get clever with finances and all of a sudden, married couples have joint gifts where the total contributed finances equals out to the same amount a solo-dolo shit head would be expected to spend by their lonesome self!? This only gets more complicated, because the math starts to get wonky as fuck once couples math is 1 + 1 = 1 gift, and singles math is (# of gifts) = 1 + 1 + (sum of kids). When's the Scrooge McDuck line get drawn? Are we trapped in a constant loop of consumerism where the only way to get your debt lessened is to become that which is bleeding your guilt reserves dry? To actually become a parent so that you can join the masses around the proverbial water cooler and talk about how your kid took a shit on the living room floor, and how you've explained to them for the hundredth time why that isn't a feasible long-term shitting destination?
Que the fucking patriotic music.
Is it essentially that if you can not beat them, you join them? Inherit nephew and niece debt, take out a loan on your wife's vagina, pop out a kid, get temporarily reimbursed via push gifts and try to coast periodically on what you receive in gifts each year for the little shit heads. In reality, you're just fiending for the same equality of gift cop outs that you've unfortunately dealt with the entire time. Two wrongs, do not make a right. Fuck Toys R' Us, fuck Target registries, fuck pregnancies, fuck weddings, and fuck your precious little child's birthday. You got a new house? Congratulations on still not being homeless, shit head. Your fourth cousin is graduating high school and you're suppose to get them a gift? We're talking fourth cousin, man. You could fuck him, have a baby, and the kid's genome would be manageable. Once you hit the sixth cousin mark, you might as well not even be related. Plus, its high school. Hur-fucking-ray, you did what every other half-a-tard' accomplished. I'm having a "didn't have a baby shower" later this month, pay me mother fuckers. We are not slaves! And a special fuck you to the OXO Stainless Steel Turner, you irrelevant taint of an object. I wish you were a mic, so I could drop you right now. Bitch.