Gab's Blabs

Haley Barbour pardons hundreds of criminals !!!

 

Gab's Blabs: Michele Bachmann Prays it All Away

Click to Play

Michele Bachmann (Gabrielle "Gabby" Birchak) tells you a little bit about herself (593 foster children), what she plans to do as President, and how she plans to win the Presidency.

Gab's Blabs: It's Not OKKK

Click to Play

All New Gab's Blabs: Gabby addresses the KKK's PR move to do an "image makeover" by interviewing Blabs' Senior Fashion Consultant Haywood LaMore, as played by the awesome Ian Salmon.

Gab's VBlabs: Womney's Wascally Wun for Pwesidency

Click to Play

Gabrielle "Gabby" Birchak hosts a new VBlabs announcing that Mitt Romney has thrown his can of hairspray into the ring for President. So far, he's on par with Jimmy Carter and Elmer Fudd.

An All New Gab's VBlabs: Circus Politics

 

Giving The Finger to Mother's Day

Grandma Maggie wanted to make sure I had the finger. She also wanted me to have her precious, faux-diamond studded, Bitch necklace.

I miss my Grandma so much.

She taught me to have a better comeback – always. Case in point: when I was 14, I said to her, “Grandma, how do you find an old man in the dark?” I knew that she would fall for the joke and that I would shock her! I just knew it!

“How, Gabby?” She smirked.

“It isn’t hard.” The punchline! With perfect timing! I waited for her to gasp.

She took a sip of her beer and nonchalantly said, “Oh, you’d be surprised.”
 
I have all her old Op/Ed clippings. Whenever a local politician pissed her off, she sat at her typewriter until a scathing, biting article flowed from the pages. Then she would send it off to some local newspaper. She kept all the clippings. When we would visit her beautiful home in Bailey, CO, I’d thumb through them with complete awe. That was what I wanted to be: outspoken and fearless. She was my inspiration. She still is, even more so.

This was where I learned the importance of speaking up and speaking out at injustice, or at least political stupidity. This is where my VBlabs stemmed from. Grandma taught me that silence is the enemy.

She found her true love on her fifth marriage. I think it was her fifth. Georgie … a Jewish beatnik.

They used to go out drinking and partying. Grandma Maggie had a reputation for dancing on the tables (always wearing her faux-diamond studded Bitch necklace).

Then she grew too old for that. So, she resorted to pottery. 

Even there, she never chose to follow the crowd. When the other blue hairs were making bowls or vases, she made The Finger. This is by far, my favorite sculpture, ever.

As she aged, she blossomed. One Christmas, as the family sat around sharing small talk, Grandma decided to tell all of us about her recent outing to the neighbor’s house to smoke pot for the first time. She even wore a “hippy” skirt to commemorate the occasion. I was so impressed! Here she was in her 70s, trying something new. Oh, I so admired that! I vowed then and there that when I grew up, I wanted to be like Grandma Maggie.

I was lucky. She came around for my cousin Nancy and me. The rest of the kids, not so much. Nancy and I were so fortunate to learn about this diverse, talented, social, outspoken woman. I consider myself lucky and blessed, so lucky and blessed to have had her in my life.

I can still hear her voice. I can still feel her holding my hand. I can still feel her presence and smell her perfume.

And, with each Mother’s Day, I miss her more. I miss her jokes. I miss her advice. I simply miss having her around.

So, this year, I’m going to give the finger to Mother’s Day, for Grandma Maggie.

I know she would be proud.

Gab's British Blabs: Who Farted?

Click to Play

Gabrielle "Gabby" Birchak reports from London, where she attended the Royal Wedding. The VBlab crew obtained special audio footage from the Royal Balcony from where Kate Middleton and Prince William had their double kiss! www.GabrielleBirchak.com

Marriage Doesn't Fix It

I love Tracy McMillan's (TV Writer, Mad Men, United States of Tara) recent article in the Huffington Post titled Why You're Not Married.

I found myself arguing with these thoughts as they taunted my non-marital status during the late 80s and early 90s. To make it worse, I lived in L.A., where finding a decent man with decent values was like looking for a cross-dressing, disco-dancing transvestite in a convent.

McMillan’s rationale frighteningly sums up the character flaws that many of us women have thought to possess at one time or another. Lucky for Tracy, she was born knowing how to get married. Unlike myself.

I was born knowing how to be alone. Surrounded by siblings, I found comfort in my own room. Once I was in college, I loved living alone. It was just my cat and me. In a clean apartment with vaulted ceilings and brand new carpeting. It was heaven! I could study in silence. I could watch what I wanted. I could even argue with myself in silence. To this day, my husband prefers that I never mention my beloved apartment. He considers my single abode as my one and only true love, and as such, is jealous of it. He could catch me kissing an old boyfriend, and it wouldn’t faze him.

However, if I mention the apartment, the fangs of jealousy come out!

That being said, whether knowing how to be married or knowing how to be single, I have devastating news ladies: the flaws that McMillan points out are flaws that we possess even when we ARE married.

Let’s go down the list, shall we?

1. You’re a Bitch.

You’re angry.

McMillan writes that when you’re single, you don’t think you’re angry. However, once you’re married, you KNOW you are angry. You go from being angry with your mom, Sarah Palin, mass consumerism, etc., to being angry with your husband, the laundry, and the dishes.

McMillan states that men just want to marry someone who is nice to them. Kind of like their mother.

So, that’s what we become. Then we become overwhelmed with life. We can’t do it all. So, we revert to anger.

Let’s face it ladies, we’re bitches. We’re angry bitches, whether married or not. And, McMillan is right, female anger does terrify men. So, I say, kudos to the awesome men out there who are brave enough to deal with our anger, calm enough to quell it, and insightful enough to see the beauty in our beastliness and love the angry bitches that we are.

This is why they occasionally deserve Steak and BJ night.

2. You’re Shallow.

So, at one point in our singleness, we temporarily went from being shallow to being insightful. We realized that we needed to stop looking for that perfect man based on our extremely high standards. He no longer needed to make six to seven figures a year. He no longer needed to drive a sports car. He no longer needed to own a home in Beverly Hills.

Instead, we discarded our unreachable standards. We searched for men who could make us laugh, who were thoughtful, and who were smart. Moreover, they were!

Then, after marriage set in, we realized that our spouses were also human. Yes, human! That meant that those reachable standards were falling lower. So they don’t make six to seven figures a year. But, that’s still no excuse to forget to buy the occasional flowers for us. And, so we married guys who didn’t wear Italian suits, but that’s no reason to now resort to the faded Hawaiian shirts, shorts and (aagh!) black socks with Nikes. Don’t even get me started on the bathing thing.

So, we revert to shallowness. They piss us off; we run out and buy clothes. What could be shallower than spending the water bill money on a Dolce and Gabbana dress that not only makes our butt look small, but ALSO makes our boobs look huge! Yes, we are shallow.

Always was. Always will be. And, they still choose to love us.

3. You’re a Slut.

When we were single, we went on dates with guys to get drunk and get laid.

Now that we’re married, we go on dates with our husbands to get drunk and get laid.

And, we still dress up.

Yep, we’re sluts.

4. You’re a Liar.

OK, so we weren’t honest up front when we met our now-spouses. We never told them we were looking to marry.

It was all about “fun sex” for the guys, while we lured them into the relationship trap.

Now that we’re married, we still do it! Except now, the lies are easier because we are well practiced.

  Ladies, does this one sound familiar? “Honey, I’m really tired tonight. I promise we’ll make love this weekend.” C’mon. You know very well that you’ll be “really tired” Saturday night as well.

Here’s my personal favorite lie, “Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot to wash your black socks.”

I didn’t forget. I’m just a liar.

5. You’re Selfish.

McMillan writes that married women, especially with kids, are selfless because we have way too much shit to do.

That’s not true. We’re selfish, too.

Case in point: girls’ night out. Don’t fuck with girls’ night out.

Every man knows that if he’s not home on time for his wife to go to girls’ night out, he will be facing weekend castration.

But, when a hubby can’t make poker night? That’s not our problem.

We’re still selfish.

6. You’re Not Good Enough.

Those icky feelings never go away. Even after 14 years of marriage, I personally still never consider myself good enough. Ever.

I insult my husband when I’m tired. I yell at the kids when other moms would intelligently pick their battles. I feed the family McDonalds.

I’m a freelance writer, not on staff, because it allows me to be there for my kids. In other words, I have a huge gap on my resume. And, once they are old enough to take care of themselves (i.e. 30 years old), I may not be good enough as a staff writer anywhere.

Insecurity is part of being human. This also leads me to believe that Tony Robbins is not human. I digress.

Marriage fixes nothing. It only accentuates our shortcomings. Those faults will always be part of us, whether we are the husband, or the wife, or the husband’s husband, or the wife’s wife. Whether single or married, we are all loaded up with messed up, emotional baggage. We just carry that stuff into the marriage. Nothing changes. Unless we want it to.

McMillan writes that marriage is a “long-term opportunity to practice loving someone even when they don't deserve it.” I love that!

I think that’s true for non-marriage as well.

I don’t have it figured out as to why some people are married and some are not. I don’t even know why some marriages last and some don’t. But, I do know one thing: life itself is a “long-term opportunity” to commit to loving ourselves. Even when we don’t deserve it.

Dear God, now I sound like Tony Robbins.

V2DPFYV2SRMJ

Dear Tina Fey, what's the rudest question to ask a mom?

Oh, Tina Fey, I love you! I admire you! Next to my children, you are one of my greatest inspirations!

However, regarding your most recent article in The New Yorker, I must disagree. 

In your latest piece cleverly titled, “Confessions of a Juggler,” you write that the rudest question anyone can ask is not, “When do you plan to lose the baby weight?” but rather “How do you juggle it all?”

Um. Seriously?

I don’t know, Tina. For me, I would much rather prefer a question that garners my insight than to have someone insinuate that I have an ass the size of Texas.

Really? That’s an offensive question?

Maybe you need a girls’ night out with my besties. On those rare occasions, when me and my parent friends can align all the planets, part the waters, WALK on water for that matter, and arrange for all of us to meet at one place, at one time without a child or spouse in tow, we get together. And drink. Maybe light up the dubage. But, most importantly, we get together and exchange notes.

On those nights, we ask, “How do you juggle it all?” which is quickly followed up with “… because I suck at it, and I think you’re doing a better job than me. Please give me some insight.”

I think the more painful question that needs to be addressed here isn’t, “How do you juggle it all?” but rather, “Why do you work?”

That one goes right to the heart. That question rips open the jugular. Blood and tears spew. It hurts! It’s more painful than tiny Legos on bare feet or a poorly aimed Nerf dart.

That’s the worst question, ever.

I’m lucky that I gave birth to my two boys when I lived in L.A. When I had my first child, my besties were awesome. They visited. They cooked. They helped and loved me when the hormones did a mind-f*** on me. Some of these women were wives of entertainment execs, some were entertainment execs, some were co-op hippy moms, some were non-moms, and some were even stay-at-home dads (i.e. comedians or musicians). I could always count on them to say “good job” if I managed to shower and put on clean underwear that week.

Then I moved to Northern Virginia (NoVA to the elitists) just outside of D.C. for a brief stint to mock the politicians. In my first week there, I developed a severe case of culture shock. Two women on their morning walk passed by my house and mentioned that another neighbor is a working mom. The response was, “She’s a working mom? She should burn in hell for that.”

Holy Mother of Working Mother Magazine! I couldn’t believe I heard that!

Two weeks later, I had a painful experience (worse than scrapbooking) of listening to another elite NoVA mom go on an insane rant about another working mom, saying that Working Mom’s children will grow up to be drug addicts and rapists.

Clearly, I wasn’t in L.A. anymore. I was living in a culture where women stayed at home, living at their children’s beck and call. On those rare occasions when I’d meet up with another working mom/comedian, we’d get that look in our eyes and blurt out, “How do you juggle it all?” It was so refreshing to exchange tips and pointers. It became our stand-up fodder. It became our bible, our mantra, and our meditations, until we’d meet again on the circuit.

Those moments gave me the strength to stand up to the biting question of “Why do you work?”

At first I would respond with,
-    Because I love to work. Happy mommy, happy baby!
-    Because the extra income affords us the kick-ass bouncers for the birthday parties.
-    How else can I afford a house cleaner?

However, that didn’t quell the stay-at-home moms’ thirst for an argument. So then I would respond,
-    Because I hate scrap-booking.
-    So I can afford organic. 
-    All the moms are doing it now! You should try it; you might learn some social skills.

Finally, during my last year in NoVA, I grew bitter. I would just blurt out,
-    I work because I know it annoys the hell out of you.

The irony, now, is that many of those moms are now working because of our current recession.

 

“Why do you work?” is a question that implies that moms are neglecting their children. It takes the mindset back five decades to an age where men went to work and women stayed home. If a married woman worked it wasn’t out of necessity, it was out of choice. The race for the glass ceiling was on while moms’ humming, “I Am Woman, Hear Me Roar,” placed their babies in daycare facilities to stew in their diapers. The horror!

What many stay-at-home moms don’t understand is that it’s a frickin’ community. Whatever way we can raise our kids in a happy, healthy, nurturing environment, we should do it. If Mary works 10 hours a day, while her child is in daycare learning sign language and Mozart, and Kathy pops in and out all day between acting gigs, and Stephanie stays home breast feeding four children simultaneously, if all the babies are happy, what does it matter?! We’re moms. We need to work together and stop scrutinizing each other for working. Good God. It’s not like we’re snorting cocaine and pole dancing in the clubs!

 

Gratefully, I am now back in L.A. and surrounded by my besties who don’t care if I work or not, who give me kudos for being a good mom, and who occasionally congratulate me on bathing. 

Succinctly, Tina, when someone asks you how you juggle it all, he is impressed with you and your ability to be a prominent, successful, and hard working mom. She is probably an insanely busy and tired parent looking for insight, someone like me - who adores you, considers you to be her hero, would give her left titty to hang with you for 15 minutes, and who genuinely believes that you deserve every single accolade you’ve ever won simply because you f***ing rock.

We just want to know how you do all the awesome work you do and still manage to be a great mom (i.e. you remembered to put your daughter’s library book back in her backpack!) Ms. Fey, it is nothing but sincere, it is nothing else but a compliment when we ask you, “How do you juggle it all?”

Just say, “Thank you.”