Tag Archives: LOFB

Noa from “Oh Noa” Has Issues

The blogger spilling her issues today had made an appearance on this blog many times, but super secret like some super secret spy ninja.

You see, Noa from Oh Noa is the chairwoman, founder and super secret spy ninja leader of “The League of Funny Bit*ches Council” that I am proud to be part of.

In addition to pretending to be my friend, Noa inspires (commands) me to put away the snark for at least one post a month and put on my serious face—a face that basically says, “Resting bit*ch face is really a thing”—and write about her monthly focus topic.

So in some way if you haven’t read her blog before, you already kind of know Noa. And the best part? You can blame her for the crap that I put on this blog at least once a month.


At any rate, here she is in all her glory.


Name: Noa Dangerballs Gavin

Blog: Ohnoa.com, Oh Noa and The League Of Fu*#in’ Bitches

Where, what and why do you write?

I can write pretty much anywhere, but mostly at my coffee table, sitting on the floor like I’m living in Japan and not sad in Texas. I write a lot of different things: comedy sketches, inspirational things, journals, short stories, novels. I’M A DABBLER. I write because it’s honestly the only thing that keeps me sane. I associate with the world through stories, so without them, I feel very alone.

First thing you think of when you wake up in the morning.

I want an effin’ taco.

What’s the one “issue” or frustration annoying you the most right now?

Women’s rights to make me sound cool (and also because people freaking hate women and that shit needs to stop.) The biggest one I faced today was the fact that chip companies cannot seem to standardize the taste of a barbecue potato chip, and screw that.

Three websites you visit every day.

Cracked, Listverse, Slate.

What’s an unusual talent and/or accomplishment you could never put on a resume?

I was once in a bizarre sort-of-fight-club when I worked at Best Buy. I worked for another huge corporation within Best Buy and I got to be friends with some guys who were fighters, and I wished I was. So, one night we got drunk at one of their houses and they said, “Let’s start a fight club,” because that’s what drunk white boys do. So we did-and I wasn’t terrible. I lost, of course, and ended up with ALL the bruises, but I didn’t back down.

(Editor’s note: Umm…I got nothin’ with this one.)

Favorite place to be?

Outside on a warm patio with a cool breeze, a beer and a cigar and no mosquitoes. Preferably by an ocean. Or lake. River. Pond. A general feeling of water.

(Another editor’s note: I’m no expert, but if you’re looking for an escape from mosquitoes, you probably want to avoid the water when it’s warm outside. Then again, maybe the cigar smoke would ward them off? Carry on as you were…)

If you could rule the land for one day, what laws would you create and enforce?

1) Everyone retakes the driver’s license exam every 10 years. You fail, you lose it forever. Driving is a privilege, not a right. People are so, so terrible at driving and I am tired of watching out for others on the roads.

2) Outlawed focus groups for movies and TV. They’ve done too much damage to the world of entertainment.

3) All grocery stores deliver. I hates it.

(Another note: 1) Yes, except I could be the exception. 2) Let’s just ban groups in general. For everything. 3) Considering I live at the grocery store, I can’t believe we’re friends.)

What TV show would you want to appear on?

Animated? Attack on Titan or Fullmetal Alchemist. Not-Animated? Top Gear. I want a chance at The Stig.

Best and worst things I could find in your refrigerator right now?

I just moved, so best: food. Worst: non-food item that I cannot ID.

What question do you wish I had asked you and what would be your reply?


Well there you have it. A taco-loving, punch-throwing feminist with unidentifiable food in her fridge and mystery bruises. Go show her some love after playing our little game:

Tacos are to Noa as (insert food of choice here) are to you. And…go!

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I Crap Glamour

Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if I actually cared how to coordinate clothes or correctly apply fancy makeup. Maybe I would have more friends or wind constantly blowing through my perfectly colored hair like it shows in all those commercials.

But then I remember that I’m the girl who went out in public with a Velcro roller stuck on her head, has blinded herself with liquid makeup applied directly to her eyeball and designates “good” T-shirts/jeans/yoga pants for when she needs to feel classy.

Basically, I just crap glamour.

It started early, as growing up I wasn’t what you would call a “girly girl” at all. My best friends were boys, but seeing as girls were around us as well, I carefully balanced stuffing my leotard with foam balls and coating my eyelids with glitter to lead “Get in Shape Girl” sessions in the yard with digging in the mud with a stick and baiting a hook for fishing.


Although I did have a Marilyn moment or two early on.

I experimented with a variety of questionable “girly”-type things to try and fit in—a crimper, Electric Youth perfume, a Caboodle filled with plastic barrettes and scrunchies to match my colorful socks exposed under my stirrup pants and Jelly shoes—but once I got past the awkward years of 11 to 20, my interest started to fade even more.

Now if someone were to sweep me away and completely make me over, I probably wouldn’t object (as long as they didn’t abduct me near a meal time.)

However, I have no interest in learning how to do it myself—kind of like automotive repair or computer programming, but with more glitter and possibly more power tools.

I just don’t understand things like $25 mascara or dry shampoo. Isn’t spraying more crap in your hair instead of washing the other stuff out counterproductive? And I’m pretty sure if I went for a manicure, the tech would suggest amputation as the least laborious option.

Plus for me, it’s just not practical.

My real goal in life is not to always look fabulous, but rather to get through a meal without dropping food on my shirt or find the fabric softener sheet in my sleeve before someone else does. And I feel like high heels would clash with even my best yoga pants.

So for now, the paraffin hand treatment I get every time I spill the wax out of my Scentsy scented wax warmer and my vegetable steamer facial every night are good enough for me.

But if they make a Bump-It that promises to bump up my chest—not my hair—I  might just shell out the cash.

(Unmanicured fingers are crossed!)

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P.S. Don’t forget to enter for a copy of my book and drop an F-bomb or two of your own.

A League of Our Own and a Giveaway

Not to be annoyingly vague, but I have a couple cool things coming up on the blog in the next couple of months that are really no doing of my own.

Some people asked me to contribute to a couple of neat projects and after looking over both of my shoulders to make sure they were talking to me—and that they were sober—I humbly accepted their offers.

The first really cool thing is that Noa, famed blogger from “Oh Noa” who founded the League of Funny Bitches, asked me and other uber-cool blogger, Jen Reinmuth from “Jen e sais quoi,” to be part of her revamped blog platform and join the LOFB Council (warning: contains adult language.)


You can read about it on Noa’s blog, but basically every month we’re going to choose a topic and tear it apart, top to bottom, in our Fearless, Fierce, Funny ways through writing, art, video, podcasting and whatever else we think up. We’ll introduce you to other women who bring that theme to life, and then the next month we’ll choose a new one and start all over again.


We’re over people getting torn down for comedic purposes, and it seems like that’s the most prevalent form of comedy today—at least if you want to “go viral.”  That’s not who we are, and that’s not who we’re going to be. We own our life stories. We might struggle, but we have no shame and know the value of our worth.

We’re funny. We’re fierce. We’re fearless.

I’m working on that last one, which brings me to the topic for this month—Enough. My monthly “slot” is Wednesday— that sounds much dirtier than I intended—and I’m telling you all this so I don’t have to explain it again every time.

Deal? Deal.

And because I haven’t done a giveaway in a while and I want to kiss up to you people so you NEVER LEAVE ME — Subscribe! Follow me on Facebook and Twitter! Buy me a puppy! — we’ll do that today, too.

If you don’t have a copy of my second book yet and want one—or even if you don’t want one, you weirdo—just tell me what kind of “F” you would use to describe yourself (and let’s keep it clean, people.) Funny? Frugal? Food-covered?

Crap. I just described myself once again.

Anyway,  I’ll randomly pick a winner on Friday and let you know via email. Until then, go out and “F” the world, my friends!