Hello Confusionaros, Syd here with a book review!  I know you’re saying to yourself, “Holy shit, Syd can read?”  Yes, Syd can read.  It’s a book that Ian gave me for Christmas last year, awww isn’t that nice?  And I’m just now getting around to reading it because, well, I’m just that kind of guy.

At any rate, I’ve read the wonderful little tome from 1983, Betty-Anne’s Helpful Household Hints, Volume 1, by Betty-Anne Hastings, with Mary-Beth Connors.  I already know I’m going to like this book because the bitches that wrote it have those stupid goddamned hyphenated names.  Pick one or the other, fuckwit.  The book is, as you can probably tell by the title, filled with helpful household hints (nice alliteration) that will make your life easier.  It certainly doesn’t make my life easier, because I have to read the fucking thing.  It’s divided into seven chapters, and I’ve picked the most delicious morsels of information to share with you.  We’ll start with the Introduction.

Betty-Anne says that “I’ve endeavored to fill this book with helpful hints, timely tips, and money-saving ideas.” AND YOU WILL READ EVERY LAST GODDAMN ONE OF THEM, BECAUSE I HAVE CLIMBED UP THE STEEPEST FACE OF ROCK AND I HAVE WALKED WITH THE KING, AND LO, THERE IS SOME SHIT COMING DOWN THE MOUNTAINSIDE SO YOU BETTER BUCK UP, FUCK-O, OR I WILL RIP YOUR HEAD OFF AND SHIT DOWN YOUR NECK.  Tips like “…getting your dog to take his medicine, and like it, too.”  Christ, I would not want to be a dog in the Hastings home.  Or “…a bevy of recycling “tricks” to get added life out of things you might have thrown away.”  I can only picture some 16 year old brunette bimbo wielding a hair dryer that belches fire and electric smoke while plugged into a wall with a melting, duct tape-covered cord.  Betty-Anne goes on to say, “Many of my friends tell me that they keep a volume handy wherever they are working, in the kitchen, laundry, or bath for that necessary tip they may need.” Keeping this book in one’s bathroom puzzles me greatly.  Would Betty-Anne have some tip on the best way to give an enema, or a trick to obtain the perfect water temperature for a douche?  Anyway, on to the first chapter, cleverly titled A Potpourri of More Household Hints.

“Today’s housewife and mother may also have a career to think about, too.  According to recent statistics, an “ordinary” housewife spends an average of over 90 hours a week on maintaining and running a home!” HAHAHAHA, oh passive sexism, how I love thee.  No good woman needs a career, why then they’d get all sorts of high-faluting ideas about equality and other such nonsense; barefoot, pregnant and chained to the stove, that’s the American way!  And really, I’d like to see these statistics.  And just what the hell is an “ordinary” housewife?  One who doesn’t fight back?  Over 90 hours a week, you say?!  Hell, she’d gain 90 pounds while doing it!

• Scrubbing your blender can be time-consuming, not to mention frustrating. Instead, the next time you have to clean it, try this.  Fill the blender about half-way with very hot water and a generous amount of dishwashing liquid.  Before turning it on, throw in a couple of medium-sized ice cubes, to dislodge any insistent pieces of food. Blend on high, pour into tall glass, and garnish with a lemon wedge.  It’ll clear out your intestines in no time!
• Here’s a quick hint that’ll make using a saw easier.  A little kerosene on the blade of your hand saw will act as a lubricant and minimize your huffing and puffing on tight cuts.  It really comes in handy when you’re cutting up your hubby after he’s beat you around the kitchen one too many times.
  

  She has no idea where she is or what she's doing.

• Do your tools get rusty? Chances are that you just don’t use them enough.  After cleaning them with a little steel wool, try coating them with a thin topping of petroleum jelly, and they’ll never rust again.  I could pull a whole host of sexual jokes out of this one, especially with the “tools” and “petroleum jelly” bit.  And the “steel wool.”  But I’m going to take the high road.
• Cleaning the oven is no fun! Let’s face it, no one likes to clean the oven.  But, we’ve come up with an easy and efficient method.  Just sponge on a generous amount of household ammonia before you go to bed and close the oven door.  The next morning, let the oven air out, and then wipe it clean with no fuss or mess. Oh man, I bet this would’ve come in handy at Auschwitz.  Also known as the Sylvia Plath Special.
• Lost contact lenses:  Make the room as dark as possible, and then shine a flashlight over the floor.  The lens will glow. As if they weren’t blind enough already.  Also, that contact lens will only glow if you came from Chernobyl.
• How to get kids (and some grown-ups) to take nasty-tasting pills or liquid medicines: Suck on an ice cube to numb the tastebuds.  Medicines will become practically tasteless. NO!  NO!  YOU SHOVE IT DOWN THEIR THROATS!  WITH A BROOM HANDLE!  Or you hide it in a piece of cheese.  Then again, if you’re trying to give grandma her “medicine” so you can get her inheritance, you can always give her cyanide.  It tastes like almonds!
• Woops!  There goes baby… To prevent loss of child from high-chair, simply apply textured appliqués (the kind used in bathtubs will do) to the chair back and seat. Or you can let the little shit fall, and that’ll teach ‘em about the wonders of gravity!  Hooray science!
• How can you avoid static electricity shocks from your carpet? Simply fill a small vase with water and keep it in the carpeted room. What the fuck?
• Cigarette burns in your new carpet? Don’t panic.  Calmly cut the burned threads with scissors.  From the corner of the carpet or in inconspicuous  places, cut undamaged threads and glue them into the hole.  Cover with paper towels and a book to dry for 24 hours.  There…good as new. DON’T PANIC DON’T FUCKING PANIC OMG YOU PANICKED OH MY GOD WE’RE FUCKED.  Also, don’t invite me to your party.
• New arrivals? If your dog has given birth to a litter, cut strips of cloth for each puppy and place in the bed with the mother.  When puppies go to their new homes, send along a strip.  It will help comfort the puppy when it misses its mother, and keep it from crying. This is the saddest goddamn thing I’ve ever read.
• How to light candles on a birthday cake. Using a long fireplace match either start from the inside or the top and work your way through.  This way you’ll avoid burning the tips of your fingers, scorching your lovely curls and melting your fingernail polish. Because God knows that looking your sexiest is much more important than your kid’s birthday party…Mom.
• Hints for coping with roach infestation: Roaches love dark and damp places.  Be sure to wipe up all spills immediately.  Also, thoroughly vacuum behind refrigerators and under the motor, under and behind all furniture, in all crevices (and fill them in with plaster or plastic wood if possible), around all plumbing, under the stove burners, behind all book cases (and it doesn’t hurt to occasionally leaf through your books for egg sacs), and across the tops of drapes and blinds.  Apply roach spray regularly, or if you prefer mix boric acid and sugar.  CAUTION: This mix is poisonous to kids and pets. And it makes for great cake icing too!  Oh, their faces will melt right off when they taste it.  Reid could’ve used this at his last place.
• Another sleepless night caused by nuisance flies and mosquitoes? Try switching on the night light in the hall or the bathroom light.  When the little bugger seeks out the light, close your door. Or you can move the fuck out of Zimbabwe.  Your choice.
• Cabbage leaves in your first aid kit. Who would have ever thought that the garden would do so much good for a burn?  Believe it or not, cabbage leaves (be sure to wash them thoroughly first) are a soothing agent to minimal skin burns, rashes, etc.  Just lay the leaf over the affected area and you’ll feel a sense of relief in minutes. Ahh, the old Irish cure.  Much like my granddad rubbing my face in corned beef and pouring Guinness on me to relieve the pain of bee stings.
• Ouch! I always burn myself lighting candles.  Simply use a piece of spaghetti to light candles. You dumb shit, you do not need pasta to help light a fucking candles.  Grow the fuck up.
• Homemade furniture polish. Mix equal parts of boiled linseed oil (available in any hardware store), turpentine and vinegar.  Voila!  What a lustre. Also known as Uncle Stevie’s Magic Go-Go Juice.

Here’s some of Betty-Anne’s “Quick Hints”

• Do you love your house plants?  Well, bring them into the bathroom the next time you take a shower!  They’ll thrive in the heat and humidity. I know that there’s gotta be some creepy fetish porn based around this idea.
• Your hubbies golf balls can be cleaned easily. Just soak them overnight in a “heavy” solution of ammonia and hot water.  No scrubbing, either! It’s also useful to clean the heads of his golf clubs once he’s done beating you around the house because his game that afternoon wasn’t so great.  Also, get a better editor.

• What to do when baby throws up all over parent away from home: Carry a small brown bottle of baking soda and water in the diaper bag.  When baby spits up milk or food, just rub the spot with a cloth dampened in the mixture. So if they’re at home, do you just throw the baby at the far wall?
• Is the pressure getting to you? When traveling by air, it’s usually the air pressure that makes you feel weak, dizzy or ill.  Because, you see, pressurized cabins cause rapid dehydration.  Solution: a couple glasses of good old H2O down the hatch! Solution: overpower the flight attendants and the passengers near the emergency exits.  You want to be free, and breathe the fresh air at 30,000 feet.  They don’t want you to.  They want to keep you in chains.  THEY ARE NOT YOUR FRIENDS THEY ARE ALL AGAINST YOU YOU CAN’T BREATHE KILL THEM ALL FREEDOM.

Next, we have the chapter Recycling Tips and Helpers:

• Old socks are a great travel companion. Save old socks.  The next time you travel, slip one sock over every shoe as a way to protect your shoes and your clothing.  I’m sorry, but this is what crazy people do.  The kind that stomp up and down the street claiming that they are sinners and must be castrated.
• Line winter shoes with carpet. It may sound a little weird, but a small carpet scrap makes a great cold weather insulator.  Trace your feet on a piece of paper and make a pattern.  Then cut out the carpet to fit.  Place in rubbers, boots, or other winter shoes that could use a little extra help with the cold. No, it’s a *lot* weird, Betty-Anne.  This is what poor people do.  And I don’t think that anyone who would read this book is that goddamn desperate.  Besides, with carpet in my goddamn shoes, I’d always be shocking myself from the static electricity.  But then again, I could always carry a vase of water around with me like you said in the last chapter.  Then I could really pull off the crazy.
• A gift that’s lucky, too. As the cost of meats keep rising, chicken becomes more popular.  And that means more leftover wishbones.  Here’s another way (besides wishing!) to use them.  Dry them.  Paint them.  Put on a little glitter and tie them to gift packages.  The recipients will not only have a nice gift, but have a lucky wish, too. Excuse me, are you batshit insane?  If I ever got a package from someone with a fucking bedazzled chicken wishbone hanging off it, I would immediately think that they put some sort of voodoo hex on my ass.
• Try these uses for ties. Make an old tie into a sumptuous belt, or a smashing headband.  If the tie is really in poor condition, use pieces of it for an appliqué patch on other clothes.  Or turn a tie into a toy for kids.  Stuff it with old stockings and knot or sew shut the ends.  You’ll have a cuddly snake. Wearing ties as headbands is something you do when you’re drunk—I should know.  Also, give the kid a real snake.  It’ll be better for them, because then they will understand life and death when they are responsible for the life of another living being, and they will feel shame and depression when the damned thing dies.
  

  Not that kind of tie...

• Line your shelves with towels. Somehow for something so obvious, it’s too often overlooked.  Glue or tack down pieces of old toweling.  It’s a great way to soundproof your shelving. Why in the fuck would you need to soundproof shelving?  Why?  This just makes me think of some weird shelving-related torture chamber.
• When you milk goes bad. There’s nothing more disappointing than to get ready for a fresh cup of coffee only to find the milk has gone bad.  Don’t throw it out in disgust.  Save it and use it for milk substitutes in pancakes, waffles and other morning delicacies.  Or surprise the family with a homemade sour milk cake.  Now that’s a treat. Ugh.  Forget that I just lost my job, my wife left me for some guy I know, and our daughter died at the hands of a child rapist—this spoiled milk has totally ruined my fucking day.  I JUST WANTED SOME CREAM IN MY COFFEE.  HOW LONG, O LORD, HOW LONG?!  And really, using bad milk in some recipe sounds like an invitation to some gastrointestinal problems.  Sour milk cake?  Come on, you’d have to slap somebody if they served that to you.  And once again, Betty-Anne, get a better editor.
• Here’s a great tip for leftover vegetables.  Just put the veggies from last night’s meal into a frozen pie crust along with any pre-cooked meats, gravies, or left-over potatoes and you’ll have a delectable shephard’s pie that the kids will always want seconds of. NO.  NO.  NO.  Shepherd’s pie has never been delicious.  It’s the lazy version of dinner.  ‘Oh, I guess I’ll throw all this random crap in the fridge into a pie and eat it!’  Fuck you.  That shit’s terrible.  It’s like a Pop-Tart from Hell.  Any kid that wants a second helping should be taken out behind a shed and beat with a hose.
• The many lives of meat loaf. Try using a variety of left-over meats to make a meat loaf.  Your family will love it, and you’ll love this money-saving tip. Sure your family will love it, if they’re the Manson Family.  Once again, we have a stupid fucking idea concerning food.  Keep it fucking simple, stupid.  You’re not making fucking bologna or hot dogs here.  I don’t want ground-up cow face staring up at me from my plate.
• An old knife has value. Especially, the serrated kind.  They are great to cut Styrofoam or cardboard with, and they make great twig pruners for your small tree.  I can just see some woman hacking away at a tree in her backyard with a steak knife, grinding her teeth and mumbling about her husband.

Our next chapter is entitled Gardening Victories.

• A real bonebreaker! Save all those old poultry bones—they make great garden fertilizer.  Don’t throw away that chicken carcass.  Save it.  Let the bones dry and throw into an old burlap bag.  When you’ve got a bunch, crush them with a hammer (or let the kids jump up and down on the bag).  Then sprinkle the bones in your garden—or feed them to your houseplants. Now we all know what to do with the body after we’ve killed someone.  Yay gardening!
• Leftover hair?  What next? If you regularly clean out your brushes and throw out accumulated hair, try this.  Save the hair and stuff it into old stockings and panty hose.  Knot each end so that the hair is secured in a wad.  Tie these “hairballs” to young trees or brushes that deer and rabbits favor.  The scent of humans from the hair scares away wildlife.  P.S.  If you live in the country where deer are a real problem, get leftover hair from your barber shop.  I would think that stumbling upon a home where hair-stuffed pantyhose hang from trees would be akin to stumbling upon the house from ‘Texas Chainsaw Massacre.’  You’d need to get the fuck out of there ASAP.
• Your very own compost heap…Everybody talks about compost heaps, but did you ever wonder what should really go into one?  Here are some suggestions: coffee grounds…all leftover fruits and vegetables…plant cuttings and stalks…mulched up leaves…cut grass…any spoiled fruits and vegetables…all peelings…eggshells…rinds…wood chips, etc.  Leave out animal fats and anything that isn’t biodegradable…Leftover skin…her teeth…that one guy’s eyeballs…the neighborhood dog that won’t shut the fuck up barking at three in the morning…the list goes on and on…

The next chapter, Clothing Care Tips, was of no use (read: I could not make it funny), so ahead we go to Traveling and Vacation Hints, where Betty-Anne says, “Everyone knows that you can have a wonderful time with your family when you go camping, go no vacation, or travel to a new and distant spot.” Excuse me, have you ever been on a fucking vacation with your family?  It’s a living hell.  That’s the point of vacations: to get away from those fucking people.  She goes on, in her infinite wisdom, to say, “However, sometimes disaster can set in—when you suddenly find that you have forgotten to bring along an important item, or you encounter bad weather and the children are fussing and difficult to amuse, or things don’t go quite as you had planned.” Welcome to fucking life, you cunt.  Sometimes heinous shit happens—just ask me, I know all about it.  Trust me, I have a doctorate in Life’s Bullshit.

• Does your child clamor to jump into the pool as soon as you arrive at your motel? Try this easy trick.  Tuck your child’s swimsuit in a separate plastic bag and keep it handy.  That way, you won’t have to unpack all your luggage in order to find it.  Your child will be able to have instant fun in the water! Or, you can take a good running start out of the car and just hurl the little shit over the pointy, wrought-iron fence surrounding the pool like a living, screaming shot-put.  And if s/he doesn’t hit the water (which will hurt anyway), well…they’ll never look at a pool the same way again.
• Try this new way to provide a sleeping area for your child when you travel. Store your suitcases on the floor of the car of the back seat (what?).  Then take a baby mattress and spread it across them to make a level “floor” with the car seat.  Then add a quilt across and you’ll have a great area for your baby to sleep or play in during your stops.  One warning: be sure your baby has a protective restraining device, such as a halter or seat belt when you travel.  Umm, no.  The way you slept on a family roadtrip was in the backseat, passed out on your siblings, mouths agape and heads lolling, with the seatbelt slowly strangling you.
• Do your older children get bored easily when you take a trip? I’m not even going to write what Betty-Anne says here—it’s stupid.  Let the fuckers be bored.  If they don’t have the imagination to make shit up as they stare out the window, then they’re fucked for life.
• When you’re camping, does your toddler stray easily? How stupid of a fucking parent are you?
• When you’re driving, do your children fuss around so that you find yourself turning around to intervene? This was mom’s special skill.  To bend her arms and neck around like a contortionist and slap you upside the head before you were able to grab your Gameboy back from your brother.  And the more you squirmed and tried to get away, the angrier she got and the more it was going to hurt when she did hit you.
  

  The typical American family on a roadtrip.

• Does your child keep spilling his drink when you ride in the car? The best way to deal with this is as follows: the first few times this happens, hit the kid as you would normally.  Then, give the kid a big cup and fill it up almost to the brim.  Next, put the kid in the back seat and weave wildly through a forest and continually scream at the kid that if he spills one fucking drop, you’re going to fucking kill him and that no one will ever find his little body in this big damn forest.
• Here’s a tip to make driving easier when you are alone and trying to follow a map. Cocaine and a GPS.
• Soap for the outing. Save old pieces of soap and throw them into a stocking which you tie at both ends.  Leave enough stocking to use as “rope”.  At the campsite, hang the stocking at the faucet.  People can clean up quickly without wondering where to put the soap. A bar of soap in a sock is how my dad would beat me as a kid.
• Window shades in a can. If you sleep in a station wagon (and who doesn’t these days), and it doesn’t have curtains (God forbid), and you’d like a little more privacy, try this.  Bring along a can of the foaming window cleaner.  Before you go to sleep, foam up the windows on the outside.  When you wake up in the morning, just wipe the windows clean.  Privacy and clean windows.  What could be better than that? You know, if I were a voyeur or a crazed hillbilly or just some regular schmuck, and if I were at a campsite and saw a station wagon with foam-covered windows, I could not resist wiping the foam off and seeing what’s inside.
• Baby’s crib needs extra protection.  For some reason, mosquitoes seem to love the tender young skin of babies. Mosquitoes, and Albert Fish both.
• Shhu food flies. I’m not going to even write the tip here; I just wanted to show you how terribly this book needed an editor.

The next chapter, titled Our Furry Friends, is all about helping out our favorite animals.  Betty-Anne says, “And while everyone knows the great joy of raising a pet, and the pleasure that you can get from them, you want to be sure that your pet gets the best care possible with the least amount of work and worry for you.” Well, isn’t that just a fucking cop-out.

• Here’s how to handle a new pup that cries all night. In order to get your well needed sleep, just wrap an old clock, ticking, in a towel and then put it in the puppy’s bed.  Another helpful tip is to use a heating pad or a hot water bottle wrapped in a towel; puppies are used to cuddling up to something warm, and they’ll even think it’s “mom”. Once again, another very sad thing.  Just make sure that the clock doesn’t go off, or your dog will have a lifetime phobia of clocks.  And that “mom” hates him.
• Want to keep your dog safe when he goes out at night? Try this to protect your dog from being hit by cars when he takes his nocturnal stroll.  Just place a reflecting strip on his collar, and that will alert motorists that he’s around. So what, your dog just has an after-dinner walk by himself in the evening?  “Oh hey guys, just going out for a quick jog.  I’ll pick up some milk on the way back.  Bye!”  How fucking irresponsible do you have to be?
• Here’s how you can make a cheap identification collar for your cat. Take a piece of loosely-fitting elastic and write your name address, and phone number on it with an indelible pen! Great way for the psycho who just skinned your cat alive to find his way back to your home.  Also, if I was a cat, I think I’d fucking hate this.
• What’s the best way to get cat hairs off your chairs? Simple: don’t have a fucking cat.

At long last, we come to our final chapter, The Kids.  “We all know the joys of having babies and seeing them grow from the infant stage to the creeping and crawling, and toddler times and all the way through the many stages of childhood.” What kind of rat-bastard psychotic would say a goddamn thing like that?  Have you even been around kids?  They’re a bunch of little shitheads.

• Remember this simple tip: a child in colorful clothes is easier to find.  Nothing stands out in a crowd like a toddler in red, purple or yellow. Once again, Albert Fish would love this.
• Want a way to outsmart the baby that shakes his crib and walks it across the room? Place that fucker at the top of the stairs.
• This is a simple trick to keep spills from making your baby’s high chair tray a mess! Just put it in the backyard, turn on your lawn hose, and let that do the job for you! Put the baby in there while s/he’s eating, and you’ll not only feed the kid and keep the chair clean, but you’ll be giving the baby a bath as well!  You’ll kill three birds with one stone!  And maybe even a baby!
• Would your baby like some entertainment during bath time? A bath can sometimes be a scary event for a baby.  So make bathtime a happier event with this trick.  Hang a mobile above the sink so your baby can look up and amuse himself, rather that just being able to stare at a blank wall. The image of a baby in a sink staring at a blank wall is fucking funny to me.
• Is your little girl reluctant to give up her dolls? WELL TOO GODDAMN BAD!
• Here’s a great step-saver. When a child is sick, he often needs you, if only for support and love (nevermind the whole giving him medicine bit). One way to keep from running back and forth, checking on him is to give your child a bell.  That way, he can ring it, and you’ll be there in no time. You should only do this if you want to truly hate your child, and if you want the patriarchy to keep you down like the lowly maid you are.
• Try this trick to encourage your baby to drink from a cup! Fill your baby’s bottle with some liquid that isn’t a favorite, maybe some diluted milk (or turpentine), and put the liquid he likes best in the cup.  When the times comes to taste both, there’s an excellent chance that he’ll pick the one in the cup! Unless your baby happens to like the smooth flavor of turpentine.  Also, my mom tried this trick with me by putting whiskey in my bottle.  Bad move, mom.  Also, once again Betty-Anne, you bitch, get an editor.
• Here’s a good way to keep your toddler from slipping through the rail of a bunk bed when visiting. No, fuck that noise.  That’s the thrill of bunk beds: falling a straight six feet in the middle of the night.
• Try this easy hint for preventing your small child from bumping into his bed. Get that prick some glasses and some goddamn sense.
• Here’s a way to keep a parent present even if he or she has to do a great deal of traveling. Just have them periodically call you and leave threatening messages on the answering machine as they travel great distances across the country to come kidnap the kid in the middle of school and kill the other parent.  Or their occasional calls to bitch about child-support.
• Are you nervous about small children getting into your car and possibly smashing their fingers in the car door? Just fucking relax.  It’ll only happen once, and the kid will learn.
• Does your baby’s bottle get mixed up with other bottles when you visit? Initial the bottles with red nail polish or a strip of electrician’s tape.  That way, you’ll be able to easily identify which bottle belongs to your baby.  Let’s think about this one.  Betty-Anne is assuming that all mothers carry nail polish with them, and red as well.  What if you have gold nail polish, or none at all?  What kind of mother are you then?  Hell, what kind of woman are you?  Besides, isn’t there more than one kind of bottle available to buy?
• Want a quick way to let your child’s friends know which apartment is yours when they get off the elevator? Hang a stuffed toy on your front door.  It will be easily spotted, and it will be more fun to visit. Thank you Betty-Anne for helping me reach the Albert Fish joke trifecta in one article!
• Here’s a cheap and easy way to make “dolls”! Save used, clean, empty dishwashing detergent bottles.  Take some colored marking pens and draw faces, hair, and clothes on them.  Before long, you’ll have a whole “family” of these beautiful friends. You are the worst mom ever.  Because of this, the kid will fantasize that the cheap doll “family” is her real family, because they always love her and play with her, and never hit or yell at her, and they will never leave her unlike you.
• Think ahead!  People get their feelings hurt easily. (*cough*)  If you invite children to a party who wear braces, consider them when planning your menu.  Be sure to have foods they can eat, too.  Apples, rock candy, anything that might harm their tender gums or their braces should be eliminated.  After all, we can resist anything except temptation (isn’t that right?!  And now, I just made that last sentence ironic).  Aww, making fun of the kid with braces was always the best part!
• Has your toddler ever managed to get locked in the bathroom? This upsetting experience has hit most families.  There’s a simple solution to prevent the problem. Bang on the door and scream that if the little bastard doesn’t open the door now, that you’re gonna kick the fucker in and then beat the shit out of him.  He’ll be terrified of locked doors and bathrooms forever.
• Kids always running in and out of your house? Clothesline the next one as they come in.
• Is your child a messy eater? Try putting his tuna salad, or egg salad sandwich in an ice-cream cone. Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.

And to finish off this chapter, Betty-Anne gives us this gem of a “Quick Tip”

• Always “reward” your child for doing the right thing, even if it’s just with a smile. Because Skinnerian conditioning is the best way to raise a child.

Whew, well, that’s it for Betty-Anne’s Helpful Household Hints, Volume 1, thank Christ.  I think that what I learned, in addition to some super-duper time-saving tips, is that passive sexism was rampant in 1983, that Betty-Anne has a fetish for stockings and Ziploc bags, and that I hate Ian for making me read insane books.

By Reid & Ian

Reid – There’s some really fucking weird stuff on these here internet.

Ian – Yeah, she’s a wild, wild web.

Reid – Really, one of the worst things is that there’s so much terrible stuff that’s supposed to be “fanart”, but I don’t even know what half of it is.

Ian – That can add to the charm of it…

Reid – I don’t think I’ll ever attribute the word “charm” to DeviantArt.

Snape as the Hulk by ~florencecraye

Ian – One of those good things is not posture, that’s for sure.

Reid – Just what exactly ARE those good things? That you can be huge and scratch your ass as your students run away from you?

Ian – Scaring Harry Potter is, I believe, listed as a major attribute for the Hulk in official Marvel books.

Reid – It’s because the Hulk is super-religious and he’s offended by Harry Potter’s devil worship.

Ian – HULK SAVE!

Reid – *smacks a guy in the head, the guy’s head is crushed*

Ian – So who WOULD win, The Incredible Hulk or Harry Potter?

Reid – Like all of these that involve the Hulk, the Hulk always wins. It’s not that I like him all that much or anything, but he’s goddamn invincible, and Harry Potter is just some kid who’s only special because he WASN’T murdered. Just like every other kid in those books.

Ian – Oh… yeah.

Reid – Anyway, that’s not nearly as good of a Snape What If as this one, by the same guy:

Snape in Manos Hands of Fate by ~florencecraye

Ian – Ah, Snape and Torgo, hangin’ out.

Reid – Yeah. Yeah… What the fuck?

Ian – Okay then, Torgo vs Hasbro or whatever the big gardener’s name was. Hagrid.

Reid – Well, big fat dude has the size advantage, and also Torgo’s a cripple. But between the two of them, it’ll probably come down to a B.O. contest, and I’d bet Torgo would bring that one home.

Ian – Wow. I like how we’ve avoided the unfortunate aspect of this, that someone out there is both a Harry Potter freak and an MST3K fan. Those Rifftrax must have been just heartbreaking.

My fail pic of the Mad Hatter by ~larxel4evaXD

Reid – So, have you seen the new Alice in Wonderland movie? Neither has this person!

Ian – Gaaah!

Reid – Unless the commercials are wrong and Johnny Depp plays an emaciated Bozo the clown.

Ian – Who’s been boxing, apparently.

Reid – And who has teeth under his eyes.

Ian – This is like if you dressed Max von Sydow up to put him in one of those live-actors-recreating-impressionist-paintings thing, but he was really drunk and just ruined the whole thing.

Mass Effect – Fight Your Way by ~whisperingwinds

Reid – Here’s some high quality Mass Effect 2 fanart.

Ian – I have no idea what that game is about, so you’ll have to explain here: Is there a woman who shoots hot toothpaste at enemies while she has headaches?

Reid – No, not that I remember.

Ian – Maybe that’s one of the endings.

Reid – NO, I have beaten them all.

Ian – OBVIOUSLY NOT!

Reid – NOOOOO MY ACHIEVEMENTS LIED TO MEEEEE!!! My favorite part about this is what the ‘artist’ says about it: “I know there is a lot of things wrong with this piece, the lack of a fixed light source being the most noticeable issue I can think of at the moment.” Not the fact that the LADY’S FACE IS MELTING.

Ian – Yeah, I’m gonna say minor theory like practical lighting is probably less important than jelly-legs. It’s like she’s doing the mashed potato on a broken ankle.

Reid – Sounds like a fun girl to hang out with.

Maya’s true love by *BrokenTeapot

Reid – Why look at that, it’s the chick from Pheonix Wright and the Burger King mascot.

Ian – I object.

Reid – Do you think there’s fan fiction out there about these two?

Ian – I don’t even know how they’d meet, he’s a fucking king. He’s above the law.

Reid – Well, the girl’s a psychic, so maybe the King is actually dead.

Ian – Killed by his brother?

Reid – Yes, his brother, Mayor McCheese. And now his son, the Hamburglar, has to drag the truth out of him.

Ian – THAT’S TOO MANY MCDONALD’S REFERENCES IT DOESN’T MAKE SENSE!

Reid – You’re just jealous that you didn’t see the Hamlet/Hamburglar connection first.

Ian – NEXT IMAGE.

Reid – Fine, just for that, you get something REALLY scary.

The Sporting Life by *PumpkinPieSoup

Ian – Ed, Edd ‘n Nightmares.

Reid – I guess somebody out there just wanted to see… this. This horror.

Ian – Man, this guy’s gallery is FULL of Ed Edd N’ Eddy stuff. Like… nasty stuff. Also, the Beetlejuice cartoon.

Reid – This is not a thing to be proud of, this is something to be horribly ashamed of.

Ian – Oh, whoah, wait…

What a Romantic Day to Die… by *PumpkinPieSoup

Ian – This guy has an ONGOING fanfic… combining the worlds of Ed Edd n’ Eddy and Beetlejuice. No other ones, just those.

Reid – No… that would never happen.

Ian – “Edd is holding the Tibetan book of the dead, upon which is the symbol of the Raelian Movement; these two things are not directly connected, however. I just wanted to draw it to represent what I could not fit in words.” Words, or… pictures. Whatever this is.

Reid – It represents horrific mental scars.

Ian – And years and years of carefully built inner fantasy.

Reid – Ugh, next.

Gwen Tennyson BE by ~Aaron55

Ian – Whaaaaaaaaaaaa…

Reid – The underage girl from Ben 10 with giant knockers, done in Paint. The guy didn’t even bother to make the text bubble one field…

Ian – Oh, that’s what it is. For a second I thought her shoulders had become dislocated and swollen. It’s hard to tell where the arms are supposed to be…

Reid – She has little thalidomide arms, they barely go past her waist…

Ian – So, is she saying that a magic spell made her swell up into weird-shaped boob like things and thalidomide baby arms?

Reid – I think she’s right, that couldn’t have been the correct spell in any situation.

Ian – Oh man, this guy’s gallery is gold:

Art Trade with redryan2009 by ~Aaron55

Ian – Picasso’s “Arms are hard”.

Reid – Did he learn body proportions from Rob Liefeld?

Ian – Maybe this guy read somewhere that women’s breasts are always slightly asymmetrical, and he didn’t understand that was a precise medical thing. “Wait, ARE they different sizes? It’s been so long since I saw any…”

Reid – You know, I wonder if Rob Liefeld has a DeviantArt page… It would fit.

Ms. D- Home Alone by ~KingBoo22

Ian – Uh, is his nose exploding?

Reid – Of course, he’s an anime. That’s what they do when they see boobs.

Ian – Oh, right.

Reid – That’s why boobs are not allowed in Japan, people’s heads just explode.

Ian – I like her dryer-tube robot arms. If you made a compilation book of DeviantArt images, you’d call it, “Hands Are Too Hard: A Generation Gives Up”.

Reid – I’d call it, “The Spank Bank Meets the Elementary School Walls”.

Kurt Cobain MTG card by ~Darkmoose84

Reid – That is a seriously broken card.

Ian – Yeah, seriously. It’s not even gold, it’s either/or red green. And those abilities trigger as instants, that’s not… Wait, no. Must remember the twelfth step…

Reid – The twelfth step to recovery is to never remember Magic rules.

Ian – At least not publicly. However, I think it bares mentioning that he should probably have cumulative upkeep.

Reid – Tee hee.

You know what we really don’t do much of at ConfuseReviews.com? Reviews. Hmmm….

—

In as wastelanded a job market as the current one is, it isn’t just the unemployed who might face a crisis of morale. The gainfully employed are still often faced with conditions that are sub-par, workplaces that fall woefully short of their hopes and dreams and place their vocation firmly in the category of “just a job”. Of all the elements that contribute to this condition, quite often the most poignant is that pivotal role of the supervisor. So much subtle art has to go into a boss’s performance to rate them highly that only the truly inspired can serve the role with aplomb

Sadly, Tammy, the Woman Who Used to be My Boss at the Portrait Studio is a case study in cause, not cure, of the just-a-job blues. Between her hiring in the late summer of 2005 and my quitting in the late fall of that year, Tammy falls just short of competence in every applicable field. If there’s one positive thing I can say about this boss, it’s that she tries. Unfortunately, without a little skill it’s hardly enough.

Right out of the gate, Tammy fails to impress. As an employee who spent the summer of 2005 miserably taking photographs of hundreds of dysfunctional families one after another, each masquerading as happy be-sweatered squeaky clean versions of themselves for the fraction of a second it takes to nab a shot, I can’t think of a worse time to premiere Tammy, the Woman Who Used to be My Boss at the Portrait Studio. Without Maria, her friendly and competent predecessor who is freshly promoted out of view, Tammy signs in on day one with a false-confidence streak that simply isn’t believable. This is the result of a less than stellar pedigree, with experience as a photographer at the Wall-Mart portrait studio in Hopkins Minnesota only weakly supporting her new managerial role. Failure to schedule properly and the ensuing chaos amongst employees only exacerbate the problem, and by the turning of the season she’s wholly out of the realm of a likeable character.

The second act’s twist in Tammy, the Woman Who Used to be My Boss at the Portrait Studio is at least unexpected, but does little to redeem her. When I attempt to quit the job and she convinces me to stay the first time, it’s somewhat charming, but by the third or fourth occurrence the device is threadbare and grating. Although admittedly humorous and moving moments pop up as the quality of my work ethic declines rapidly (most notably the laugh-out-loud sequence where I started the company computer up in safe mode so I could clock out six hours early and the genuinely moving financially struggling young family who I talked out of buying anything because “you don’t need this crap, take pictures of your kids at home, those will be worth something to you someday”), Tammy remains on the fringes and hardly contributes anything. By the finale as I quit violently over the phone, finally giving up after one too many late night calls to change my hours, one can’t possibly care about the woman anymore. Her position as a “bad boss” is cemented.

All in all, Tammy, the Woman Who Used to be My Boss at the Portrait Studio is an interesting study in period with a few generally enjoyable moments, but these are hardly enough to make up for incompetence and a poor attitude in the titular role. If you work for one weird-smelling lady from the Midwest who has no business being a manager this year, look elsewhere. C-.

Previously on our Ad Vs Ad feature, we’ve shown beer ads and we’ve shown soda ads, but never have we gone so crazy as to try and show you ROOT BEER ads! I know, I know, I’m a madman. Please forgive me.

T&A&W

Watch it already!

Synopsis: This commercial is a series of fake takes of the commercial, but they keep getting ruined by mountains of jewelery falling onto the set. As it turns out, it’s Mr. T and he gets angry about the “director” calling his jewelry “silly”. I guess this is supposed to make you want to drink A&W.

Thoughts: I like Mr. T, he’s a cool guy. And because of this, I really hate this commercial. I mean, just what the fuck are you implying, A&W Root Beer? Are you saying that T can’t keep all that bling on just by standing still? That’s ridiculous! Fuck you, A&W.

IBC is Better Than Beer?!

Watch it already!

Synopsis: A man wakes up on a sidewalk with a party hat and a fake rubber novelty arm handcuffed to his own arm. This causes him to freak out, and for the ad to make the outrageous claim that “sometimes the best beer is a root beer”. You fucking wish, IBC.

Thoughts: Have you ever gotten really, really, REALLY blackout drunk from drinking a lot of beer? If so, you are 18 and probably an idiot. In that case, yes, you should be drinking IBC, because it’s awesome. Otherwise, no, beer will not cause you to wake up with a severed arm, unless you know somebody who throws the best parties in the world. Like maybe Mr. T.

Barqtoos? Seriously? That’s the name you came up with?

Watch it already!

Synopsis: Fuck trying to sell you root beer, Barq’s wants you to buy Barq’s Root Beer because it comes with free peel-off tattoos, or “Barqtoos” as they call them. They come in “cool” designs like the Barq’s logo or a retarded dog. Put them on your arm, your leg, or… BOING! Your head! Wacky!

Thoughts: As sad as it is, I remember this ad and I remember this product, but mostly I remember just throwing away these shitty “Barqtoos” and drinking the root beer because Barq’s was the root beer clinically proven to make you burp two or three times as much as any other root beer, and back in elementary school, that’s a big deal when it comes to choosing the right root beer. Ah, happy days.

Final Thoughts: So, from these ads I’ve learned that root beer is loved by Mr. T, alcoholics, and people who like tattoos. Man, root beer is way more grown-up than I thought.

(Awesome Lego art shamelessly stolen from awesome Lego artist Balakov)