That Murphy Girl

Pink Stinks

That Murphy Girl — Thu, 14 Oct 2010 00:58:10 +0000

I’m just going to say it. I HATE the pink ribbon campaign for breast cancer. Hate it. It’s obnoxious. First of all, they’ve made October Breast Cancer awareness month. They’ve taken the month reserved for turning leaves, apple pie and Halloween Candy and made it about tits. Shouldn’t February be Breast Cancer month? I mean, it’s the perfect tie-in to Mardi Gras, right? Flash your tits, check for damage? Maybe instead of a pink ribbon they could use purple and green beads? Just a thought.

And what the fuck with the pink, too? It’s so contradictory. I see some of these cows “protesting” breast cancer “we’re not going to take it anymore” like there is a conspiracy of breast-hating men out there deliberately giving women cancer. Trust me, if that ability existed it would be used for much more nefarious purposes. So…they act as though the “male medical establishment” is behind this rampant killer of women (90 percent survivable with early detection, and HEART DISEASE is the #1 killer of women, of everyone.. BTW) and then they use the most stereotypical color to rally around. Women in general tend to have a herd mentality and the pink ribboners are no exception. The big companies know this and have tapped into the fact that if they want to move more product, all they have to do is slap a pink ribbon on it and the bitches will BUY IT! I’m one bitch who ain’t buying it. Breast Cancer research is actually overfunded now, and all this feel-good pink ribbon crap is diverting funds and attention from other, deadlier diseases and cancers. I have diabetes! Where’s the love? How about Testicular cancer? Lick Ball Cancer!!! Heart disease… most of us have a heart… where’s the concern for that? No.. we have to endure herds of heifers in pink baseball caps choking up the city streets on a Sunday morning doing their “walk for a cure” or some shit. And if you don’t walk.. you hate women, you hate tits and you are pro cancer. Fuck that. If you want to feel good about yourself go volunteer at a soup kitchen…but that usually doesn’t come with cute accessories.

The Race to Obesity

That Murphy Girl — Wed, 05 May 2010 01:26:23 +0000

That Murphy girl is FAT.. I mean really fat, Orca fat. I was cute in HS, stretching the limits of a junior size 13… but this is just regoddamndiculous. I have a BMI that puts me in the “Morbidly Obese” or “Very Obese” or “Extreme Obesity” category..depending on which website you use. You know… the RED area of the graph?? And I wasn’t just over the line, either. Oh no… I was well within the demilitarized zone of the battle of the bulge (yeah I used “battle of the bulge” in a weight loss topic. shoot me)

I am happy to report I am almost back to being just plain Obese. Such a weird goal to have… to strive for, to reminice about “honey, remember when I was Obese? Those were good days… good times”.

I’ll report in when I am Obese. Wish me luck!

Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch CHERRY BOMB!!!

That Murphy Girl — Mon, 03 May 2010 23:39:00 +0000

The complimentary “first post” that came with my brandy-new blog used “Hello World” as a title so naturally that steered me toward Cherie Currie and bad music of the 70′s. I feel mildly deprived that I missed the 70′s…ok well I didn’t MISS it, technically I was there for 9 of the 10 years but it was from a kid’s perspective… a little girl dreaming of the day when she would grow up and have Farrah hair and wear cool clothes like The Bionic Woman and have a handsome boyfriend who looked just like Vinny Barbarino and drove a sweet muscle car like my babysitter’s boyfriend. By the time I was a surly thirteen year old in the mid 80′s, my mom had chopped my hair into a Princess Di bob, the Ford Escort was the new hotness and Culture Club was on the radio. Epic fail. No wild campfire orgies a’ la “Friday the Thirteenth” for me… oh no.. now we had AIDS and teen pregnancy after school specials to think about. What a buzzkill. When I saw “The Runaways” the other night it brought back memories of the girls a little older than me… the ones I thought I would grow up to be like since I didn’t have an older sister of my own. These were the days when parents didn’t live in terror of a sex offender on every block (we will address this issue in a later installment) … it seemed like kids had more freedom because no one was really aware of just how fucked up things could get. I missed it. I watched the movie and became nostalgic for something I never had….and I wondered if the girls I babysat, had ever looked at me in my skintight acid jeans, band t-shirt, and super long, super permed, super teased and sprayed video vixen hair and thought one day they would have a can-a-day Aqua Net habit and a boyfriend who made them a mix tape and drove them around in a late 70′s American car. I wonder if they felt cheated when they came of age and all they had was the Dave Matthews Band, flannel shirts and babydoll dresses… the used cars their boyfriends drove were the late model Corollas and Accords (have you ever tried to make out in a Honda?) their parents gave them…and the best the poor kid could come up with was a mix CD.. IF he knew how to burn it and IF he had the equipment. Is it any surprise that Chevrolet and Chrysler have ressurected the Challenger, Charger and Camaro? Madison Avenue has figured out that we yearn for what we never had….but what was that, really?

I’m not sure.