When Porta Potties Attack!

Lately I've been doing this one post a week bullshit on this blog that I'm not very happy with. I sometimes look at my archives and get amazed at my old blogging self. I used to post three times a week WITH a weekly Fan Letter Friday! But sometimes interesting blog topics (and all those high brow roast beef vagina jokes) soon hit a rough spot do they not? I usually use my real life experiences for inspiration but lately it's been about as inspiring as the packets of poison jelly they put in with your shoes when you buy them.

Okay, sidebar, really quickly: what the hell is that exactly? What's its purpose? And really, the do not eat warning on the label? It saddens me that it's on there because once upon a long time ago, there was probably an asshat who thought;
"Wait...what's this?...free candy with my shoes! This is the best day EVER!"
Believe me, if the jelly packets looked like mini Toblerones; I would still be hesitant to eat it, considering the fact that it has been in a box with a pair of shoes that may or may not have been taken on a test run by someone who has corn kernels for toe nails.

But I digress ...now where was I? Oh right..not having any inspiration to blog, I decided to turn to Google - the beast with all the answers and who probably has a satellite in space taking a picture of your house right now for Google Maps!! (Aren't those cool??...and kind of creepy and evasive at the same time...sorry. I'm babbling. I'm on a Fudgesicle high)

I found this handy dandy article that suggested ten topics to possibly blog about..

1. Write a book review: Hmmm, this list is off to a slow start. Well I can tell you that it took five years of my life reading the big bowl of bore soup that is Atonement. It is misleading as in there were so many rave reviews on the outside of the book and yet the inside of the book had the same affect on me as jazz. It's nice to listen to sure but eventually I'm going to fall asleep and drool on myself. I'm wondering if I should waste my time on the movie. Keira Knightly is in it, so I guess if I get bored I can always look at her protruding clavicles and wonder how she manages to stay alive on a diet of tic tacs and cigs.

2. Review a product: Oookaay. Um. Malt vinegar is good on EVERYTHING. Including toast. Don't argue with me. And um, onions suck and don't say, 'Oh I'm going to dice them up real small so you won't even notice." Because dammit I notice. I ALWAYS notice the slimy little buggers from the time they enter my mouth to the minute I spit them across the room.

3. Explain something about your subject that might be confusing to newbies: Okay Twitter. Well it's like a FB status update, actually...it is a status update and nothing more than that. Well...no..no..no, let me take that back, its a little more in depth than a status update but shorter than a blog. You basically just say what you're doing. And if you follow people you can get their tweet and see what they're doing, but if they don't follow you, they won't see what you tweet about unless you respond to something they specifically said, and if someone is following you and you don't follow them, then they can twat all the live long day about.....you know what? never mind. Twitter and every other social networking site out there is just another shiny ball put in our face so we can be distracted and not see how the government steals our rights slowly and big banks steal our money. (And yet, oh lookee over there to the side bar. Is that a tweet thread from yours truly??? yes it is. Hey! I didn't say I was immune to the shiny ball.)

4. Take a stand: I am taking a stand against those people that stand outside the grocery store entrance and harass you to donate my change, my money, my time, my signature, my underwear, my colon, whatever! when really, all I want is to get in and get a jar of Nutella without having to put on my 'ignore them by looking at the imaginary texts on my phone' act just so I can get past you. No I don't have fucking change! I use my debit card irresponsibly and all my change goes into the laundry machine because my condo doesn't come with a washer dryer plug! Are you happy now! I just want to get my damn Nutella for PMS' sake!

5. Take something that is controversial and tell how you feel about it. Just be careful to be respectful to both sides. You don’t want it to turn into a flame war. Besides, it is just more professional to state your opinion in a calm, objective way: Oh fuck that. I think Chris Brown should be in jail getting ass raped with a bar of Irish Spring.

6. Tell about some mistake that you made and what you learned from it: Taking three tequila shots and not waiting for it to kick in before taking three more was not a bright moment in my life.

7. Be different. Do something unexpected. State something which goes against popular opinion: I think my suggestion of malt vinegar on toast took care of that.

8. Run a poll. After it is done, discuss the results: Raise your hands if you think Anne Rice's vampires can kick Stephenie Meyer's metro vampires from Twilight? No contest! Oh and Twilight sucks. I don't understand the appeal. Nor do I understand the appeal of Robert Pattison. Poor man's Johnny Depp. Just sayin. Okay that wasn't really a poll...

9. Tell about a personal experience: One time, during a road trip to Missouri, I had to go to the bathroom really bad. Viking hubby pulled over to a side road with a line of porta-potties. I opened one porta-potty and what I saw in there was the size of Emmanuel Lewis and I'm pretty sure it was coming out to get me. I ended up peeing BEHIND the line of porta-potties and I've had some pretty bad nightmares about the Emmanufeces that attacked me that day.

10. Use humor: I'm sorry. I can't right now. I'm too traumatized by flashbacks of the giant poo that almost took my life and eerily resembled a diminutive child star of the 80's.

(Oh and I just remembered..the nightmare potty was in UTAH! What could they possibly be eating in Utah to create such a thing?!?)

Hold me.

Baton is the cure for cancer and other mundane musings because that post below is so old it's starting to smell bad.

I'm Aliiivvee. Yes, I'm sorry. I went into hiding after my first attempt at being a low budget director, producer, editor, host of a home video that I dared called a 'show.' So many things have happened since we last met so please, sit your ass down and catch up with me will you? Cliffs notes style...

Two Saturdays ago, I got into it with the munchkin's kindergarten teacher over BATON. Yes, BATON. You see this teacher has been teaching baton since Moses was in a onesie and signs up most, if not all, her female students into baton class every year. The munchkin was not really keen on baton when I asked her about it but teacher told me that all the other girls had signed up and oh I better sign the munchkin lest she be the outcast. The munchkin continued to be neutral about baton, liking it more for the social aspect of getting together with her friends and using the batons as pretend microphones, swords, and what have you. Things came to a head when there was a 'baton competition' that the munchkin could care less about. We were there for an hour, she got bored, and we said screw it, and went to the beach before her event was up. Who knew this would get her petticoat in a bunch? I then got lectured on Monday by crazy baton teacher about failing to teach my child 'life lessons' about commitment because I pulled her out the minute she got 'uncomfortable.' The woman means well, and she is probably in her late thousands, but clearly she doesn't know her boundaries with the whole parent/teacher relationship as she reprimanded me in front of other teachers and students, INCLUDING my daughter. Sure, I'm probably a toddler in her eyes too, but please do not tell me how to parent, especially in a condescending manner, as if I'm some open mouth breather at the back of the short bus. Only my parents can do that, and they've had years of training so there's no contest.

I had to break it down for her that the munchkin did not like baton from the very beginning and if it's something that she never liked to begin with, I am not pushing my daughter to do it. Look for your pageant mom elsewhere o' wrinkly one because you won't find her here. I did it in a very polite way of course, because I respect fossils of all types, dead or alive, but still...even when I told her, I could still see that she could not wrap her head around the fact that my daughter didn't like baton. She was almost shocked. I wonder if she knows that baton is just fancy stick twirling and not ongoing research to cure cancer.

My work laptop done broke. Dog got caught up in one of the wires while he was having a spastic attack because viking husband came home. (seriously, this dog is almost 10 and still acts very much like a puppy....that's had like 10 pixie sticks). I ended up going on craigslist and found a very nice computer with a 17 inch lcd monitor for 160 bucks! The guy who sells it apparently steals buys computers in bulk from open delivery trucks offices that are going out of business. Either way, I got a great price and I blame the economy for having to go through back alley computer dealers from craigslist.

And I got a vacuum from craigslist too - normally a 200 dollar vacuum that I got for 40 bucks. It was used and missing one attachment. I was excited. Then depressed that I got excited over a vacuum cleaner. Then excited again when I began to think about how clean my rug is going to look when I use it. Then got depressed again because...well, do I really need to explain? Again, I blame the economy.

I was checking out my bangs to see if I needed to touch up my roots or if the hairstylist did indeed match my original hair color. Well she didn't - and I don't blame her because apparently, my original color is now GRAY. YES. That's right. Raise a glass of Ensure and please toast it in my honor. I found a cluster - not one or two or three - a CLUSTER, a BUSHEL, a CROWD, a HANDFUL, a DISTURBING amount of gray that had sprouted up around the front. What the fuckity fuck? I can't grow a measly three inches to be out of the 'little people' category (or an Olympic gymnast. I could have been a contender. Just sayin.. ) and somehow I have fucking gray hair. God has a sick sense of humor, I'll give him that. But I don't blame God. I blame Jenna Jameson for giving me a horrible visual when she 'gave birth' to her twins with UFC fighter Tito Ortiz. 'Giving birth" as in I picture the doctor walking into her twat garage and walking out with two bobbleheaded babies. I think I just sprouted two more gray hairs just typing about it.

I hate people who add me on as a facebook friend and can't be bothered to say "hi" on my wall after I add them. If you just want to be a snoop then at least be honest. Leave me a note like; "hey I don't really give a shit about what's going on in your life, I just wanted to see if you had gotten fat since high school and how fucked up your life is. Don't mind me. Just add me as a friend and kill the curiosity will ya?"
That I can respect. And I would most definitely add you. (Then delete you later after I'd taken a gander at your pictures). Fair is fair when it comes to facebook.

Other than that, more mundane stuff that's so beyond mundane that I can't even write about it here without feeling completely guilty that I'm subjecting you to such crap. (plus if you're really interested in my need to put Nutella on everything, at all hours of the day, just look at my twitter posts. I tweet mundane crap at least twice a day.)

Who needs a vacation? That would be yours truly.

I'm Not Samantha Brown....

I've decided that the title of this post is exactly what I'm going to name my new 'travel' show. Because after putting together my first show I was reminded of this sad fact again and again. I basically 'winged' it and had no idea as to what direction I was headed. I just knew that I had dinner with my main gay Joey in La Jolla and hey, I'll record that experience! Good nuff! (maybe those Australia folks weren't as dumb as I thought). Shortly after I started recording, I realized that yes, I'm not Samantha Brown and oh look it that! I don't have her camera crew either! Meaning, most of this show was done in the cloak of darkness or the semi-lightning that I got from the interior light of my car or Joey's flashlight app on his Iphone. It was so horrific that my movie maker froze up on me a billion times before I finished this as if to say, 'are you actually going to show this to people?!?' My movie maker knew it was shit and tried to rebel. But I had to put this together just to show you how horrible it is. You know how you taste something so horribly awful you can't help but turn to your friend and say, "omg, this is so gross! taste it!"

Yeah this is the same thing.

Honestly, I can't even explain the disaster that is my first show. You just have to see it to believe it. Please enjoy the opening credits because that's as good as it's going to get. My next show, I'm keeping it local, I'm going to explore Oceanside...DURING THE DAY! It'll be better. I promise!

Now ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats and witness a travel show you could probably buy at Big Lots in the reduced dollar bin basket.

Feeling Dirty Down Under. Used and abused by the Barrier Reef.

Australia decided to screw all the other candidates and offered me the job because I was so spectacularly fabulous they were BESIDE themselves! No one else compares they shrieked! Come oh short one, please work for us they begged! However, I respectfully declined because I think my skills are very much needed in Missouri.

I don't think I need to tell you that I'm making jokes through my tears.

First let me just say THANK YOU to everyone who voted for me, and for those who voted for me and then made themselves my campaign managers and passed it on. Thank you! Thank you! I felt so loved. I wanted to snuggle up under the covers with all of you but knowing the lot that reads me, that's just asking for a dutch oven.. but hey, it's the thought that counts.

Anyways...they chose the top 50 candidates this Monday and yours truly did not make the cut. Why? Because I'm not a t.v. journalist, a scientist, a charity fundraiser, an adventurer (IE: trust fund babies) or someone who's wrestled camels in Yemin and balanced on a dolphin's fin in Cabo San Lucas. In other words, I don't already have an awesome job so therefore I don't qualify for a chance to have yet another awesome job. And so it goes. Sigh.

Okay, I'm not bitter, really I'm not. After watching the videos of the 50 candidates, I KNOW why I wasn't picked. I was HIGHLY under qualified. HOWthefuckityfuckEVER. Why o' why perpetrate that this 'job' was up for grabs for "ANYONE." Those poor saps in Alaska were given a false sense of hope that maybe they could finally stop chomping on whale blubber and get a taste of the good (warm) life. And a poor little midget with one foot into Misery thought that maybe, just maybe, she could stay by the ocean just a little longer. Well actually, I know why, they wanted the press, they wanted me (and every other under qualified candidate) to tell you to go to their site in the guise of "voting for me." Oh the million hits they got! Tee hee. Oh yeah, laugh it up Australia, you done fooled me. You done made me feel durty down under. You held up the dream as bait, made me see "signs" and I bit.

In my opinion, if they truly are looking for people to come visit the Barrier Reef in Australia, I think they are making a big mistake in hiring a person who no one can relate to - well except other t.v. journalists, trust fund babies, scientists, and marine biologists, who are probably going to visit Australia ANYWAYS. So what's the point? I thought they were looking for an average ol' Joe (or Jane) to tell other average ol' Joe's and Jane's that Australia was the place to be. Put a familiar face to someplace unfamiliar right? Can I get a amen?

OR maybe, just maybe...there's a small chance that my video could have just sucked.
Naaaah. THAT can't be it. (psst ..I'm way too proud and self centered to admit that..shhhh.)

Again, I'm not bitter (I swear if I keep saying over and over again it'll be true) because out of the experience a 'new idea' popped into my head. With the help of my Flip digital camera and my stellar movie maker skillz, (by stellar I really mean click on stuff until I get it..) I'm making my own damn travel show. About San Diego. I'm leaving anyways - so this gives me a chance to really go out to different parts of San Diego and appreciate my surroundings before I am thrown into the middle of America where the only way I can view the ocean is through Google Earth.

And hell, I might continue my show in Missouri! - who doesn't want to see a Filipino midget slip and slide in cow poo at PJ's dairy farm? Wouldn't it be so funny if my little Youtube series got more hits than Australia's fancy schmancy oooh lookit me I'm a marine biologist who's built orphanages underwater and now I'm Australia's marketing bitch blog?

Ahhh there I go dreaming big again. Someone really needs to stage an intervention with my brain's grandtabulous ideas and dreams.

Stay tuned. I'm taping my first episode tomorrow in La Jolla, California. I'm going to a Japanese restaurant with my main gay Joey and oh the precious moments we will have! We shall talk about the food, get loopy on the drinks, observe (talk shit) to the La Jolla 'richy" scene and walk into stores where they will see us for the peasants that we are and get kicked out on our paycheck to paycheck livin asses!

Oh yeah, I'm really doing it.

Austraizzle, can suck on my nutsizzle.

But again, I'm not bitter.

FACT: A Body In Motion Tends to Really Hate You While You're Doing It.

(Brain): Is someone chasing us?

(eyeballs): Not that we can see. Then again I think the homepage of Facebook has been burned into our retinas, compromising our ability to see clearly, so don't take our word for it.

(Brain): Can someone inform her that we're not being chased?

(Me): We've been through this before guys, I'm running now remember?

(Brain): oh so this is like a regular thing?! For no reason. We're just running....all the way over there...and back? And no one is chasing us? I'm confused.

(Shins): Sonuvabitch. Can you inform her that Ms. Thang is no longer in high schooland her legs are the size of lil' smokies. We've got to do overtime when she runs!

(Me): Believe me I know, I can feel both of you burning in contempt.

(Legs): You know I think she's got nice stems for a short girl.

(Me): Me too - thank you Legs.

(Shins): Yeah, sexy lil' smokies.

(Me): Shut up. We have to do this...we have to run...

(Ass): Why don't we just call it out like it is! It's ME okay! She's trying to get rid of me!! (sniffs)

(Me): oh ass, don't cry. It's not you, it's just all the extra friends that surround you.

(Ass): Don't try to be nice to me now that everyone's listening ....

(Lungs): Is...it... possible...for you...to...argue...(pant pant) ...with yourself...while...sitting down...at ...that...lovely Denny's ....over there....see? They have.....pancakes....in there...go...let's run ...there!

(Brain, Eyeballs, Shins, Stomach, Arms, Fingers, Toes, Hair, Ass): YEAH! Let's EAT!!!

(Me): No one wants a Grand Slam more than I do guys but come on, if I keep eating like that I'm going to have my own gravitational pull.

(Ass): You're talking about me again aren't you? Admit it. I heard you cursing about me in the dressing room at Target. It's not my fault you couldn't fit into those jeans!

(Me): well..actually, yeah it was. I was having a hard time getting past you to put it on.

(Ass): Shut up! You're trying to kill me is what you're doing. How the hell was I suppose to breath in those!? Who needs jeans!? What's wrong with your sweats for chrissakes!?

(Stomach): It's not just you ass - I haven't seen the light of day since her daughter was born. Remember all the good times we had together in Palm Springs, Lake Havasu, or anytime it was hot. I don't even remember what the sun feels like anymore!! I saw you eyeballing a one piece this past summer! Are you ashamed of me!?!?

(Me): This is exactly the reason why we cannot run to the Denny's.

(Stomach): Ooh you know what they have at Denny's - the Rooti Tooti Fresh and Fruity.

(Mouth): Omg! Let's go NOW.

(Brain): That's IHOP genius.

(Mouth): Whatever! Let's go to IHOP then!

(Me): No! On top of possibly looking like an exercise ball, do you know how all this fattening crap will screw with my health? I mean, hello, heart disease is only a couple In & Out Burgers away.

(Mouth): If you speak ill of In & Out one more time I swear I will make you swallow your own tongue!

(Heart): And please, don't be bringing me into this shit, I'm fine. I say eat all you want, I can take it!

(Me): That's really admirable but you're not going to be saying that when I'm hauling my 2 ton ass off the couch and you have to work over time just so I can get to the kitchen to have another glass of gravy.

(Mouth): mmmmm - gravy.

(Ass): There you go again talking shit about me. I have feelings too you know.

(Me): This is good for all of us okay? I know it sucks but you know the alternative sucks more.

(Brain): What's the alternative?

(Me): Well remember that lady at Wal-Mart that was in a flower moo moo who smelled of moldy towels, taking up half the aisle as she perused their vast selection of Pop Tarts?

(Brain): RUN GOOD WOMAN RUN!!!

If I win, I might do a Bushman's hanky all over myself...

EDIT: Go vote on my video now! (5 stars only - Lie to me! Help me win ;p)

Bushman's hanky : Emitting nasal mucus by placing one index finger on the outside of the nose (thus blocking one nostril) and blowing. - Koalanet.com

So here goes nuttin!.....below is my video application for the Best Job In The World. It was especially tough to try and fit everything I wanted to say in one minute because if you think I'm long winded in my posts, you should talk to me in person - sometimes I start feeling around my own back to see if there's an off switch somewhere. No luck thus far.

I did manage to put in most of what I wanted to say in the video - just a little taste of the midge and a whiff of the sour sick smell permeating from my brain that you all voluntarily partake in every week when you come (by your own volition!) and read my blog. What's wrong with you people? (I'm talking to you 5 readers out there. seriously. get some help.) I'm hoping that the judges are a little sick like all of you and like my video.

They will be choosing 50 top applicants in March - at that time, those 50 applicants will also be voted on by the public so that one 'wild card' can go to the interview. They are picking a total of 11 people to interview in May and hopefully when July rolls around - we'll be packing our backs to go to Australia! (and I'll be grabbing my nutsack in Missouri's direction.)

Good Australian vibes guys....send them my way mate! ;p

Dakota Fanning is on crackwatch...and other mindless musings.

Mimi's gave us a 'free meal' due to our "Potato Funk Fest 09" incident at their restaurant in Chino Hills - a whopping 15 bucks. Um. Thanks - I think I can get another deep fried bug on a stick with a side of chum flavored potatoes with that - Brandie and I will have to share this time though.

I went to into the Rite Aid and realized it's that time of year again:


Peeeeeps! Crap, I forgot, I'm trying to lose weight. I'll just bite off their cute little heads and traumatize my daughter by giving her the leftovers.

Speaking of traumatize, you know, sometimes a cute little kid explanation never hurt anyone and someone needs to remind me of this. The munchkin asked me about her belly button and I went into this whole Gray's Anatomy schpeel about how there used to be a cord there when she was in my belly, yackity schmackity and then we cut it off when she was born because she didn't need it anymore, (I know! I can't believe I said this either) and it's best to cut the cord off now and not when she's in her 20s lest she becomes dependent on mommy and turns into Michael Jackson...blahblah...(I didn't say the last part out loud surprisingly.)

Her response was: "That's kind of gross mom." And then the next morning she told me she had a dream about how her cord was still there and I kept stepping on it! I apologized for the cord story and tried to come up with a cuter one filled with puppies and rainbows but she wasn't buying it. If I keep this up, I'm going to have to pair up the college fund with a therapy fund.

I found this picture of Keshia Knight Pulliam - the girl who played Rudy on The Cosby Show - and I can't tell you how refreshing it is to see a former child actor whose hair isn't plastered to her face with meth sweat and dried up coke boogs up her nose.


I applaud her parents; however I do not applaud the 1992 leftover prom dress that's she's sporting here.


I was going to blame Beyonce's mom for this tragedy but it's too tame. (FYI: Beyonce's mom is a 'stylistLOL' - that's her official title btw - LOL attached because she's so ridiculous). Keshia's dress doesn't have her signature gold foil fringes or a bedazzled brooch in the coochie area.


And I'm holding my breath on Dakota Fanning. It SEEMS like she's going to turn out all right but I'm still on crackwatch until she's at least 21.

Did you hear the chick with the longest nails broke them in a car crash? She's been growing her taint scratchers since 1979!! Heart breaking. I'm surprised she didn't impale herself with one of them! Now she's going to have to actually reach down and scratch her ass like the rest of us have to - on the positive side, she can finally pick her nose without giving herself an accidental lobotomy.


New show to watch? RuPaul's Drag Race on LOGO. If you don't have Logo, click here for full episodes. Seriously, you won't regret it. It's like ANTM only RuPaul's prettier than Tyra, the challenges are harder (they're automatically trump ANY Top Model challenge when you have to tuck your peen into the crack of your ass.) and the contestants have more fierce in them than the entire cast (present and past) of ANTM. With names like "Nina Flowers" and "Ongina" - I dare you not to love it. (True story - I bought RuPaul's album Supermodel of the World in 1993 when I still had no inkling that I was predisposed to love the gays.)

ANTM is losing it's oomph for me by the way - especially when the winner ends up working at a hair show in Watusi, Ohio the next year. (Is there a Watusi Ohio? If so, I'm totally moving.)

In fact, I don't really have a lot of shows I'm 'passionate' about lately. Any suggestions? Please don't tell me Gossip Girl or 90210 - please. If I want to watch pretty people who can't act have sex I can get that shiz in five minute intervals on youporn. That's what I've HEARD anyways..not that I've ever ..anyhoohas.....Those shows are like The Hills with a bad script....oh wait. The Hills does come with a bad script. (I was over that show a thousand years ago). Regardless. I don't care if I sound old. I want Wonders Years back. At this rate I'll take Dawson's Creek back....actually no, never mind, I don't want that Paula Cole's song in my head all day.

Too late.

Well that's it - just little nuggets of nonsense by yours truly - have a great weekend and Happy Valentine's day!! I know it's really hip to say this day is overrated and "you shouldn't have a day to say you're in love - you should say it everydaaaayy'' blah blah. Whatever. I like Valentine's day because of Valentine's day CANDY!! - and Valentine's day candy means chalky Valentine's day conversation hearts! YUM!!! (none of that sweet tart shit. I want the chalky sugar type!)
And really, if you're married, in a relationship or single, nothing beats Valentine candy. Except maybe when you're trying to lose some back and face fat. (ahem)

Damn it!

Okay, never mind. I hate Valentine's day too.

I Want To Kick Last Week Hard In The Balls.

Have a seat as I try recap my crappy week syllabus style.

Well, it started off all right. I FINALLY made myself get a haircut last Friday. I can start a whole new blog on how my hair went into a downward spiral ever since my mohawk. Neglected and bitter, that's what the blog would be called because that was my hair. My hair was down to my waist, my roots had become unattractive plants and the ends were so dry, they crackled in the wind. So I chopped it off, went back to my original color and wala - I was reborn as Joyce Dewitt and Lady Ga Ga's love child:




By the way I'm not trying to be sexy in that picture, I'm totally constipated - too much cheese not enough fluids, you know how it is.

Anyways, Saturday rolls around and I took myself, my fierce new bond girl haircut, picked up my friend Brandie from her house and off we went to a party that I had been looking forward to all week. Before making our grand entrance, we decided to eat dinner before going because we were both starving. This is when the madness happens.

We settled on a nearby restaurant, which will remain unnamed ...um ... Mimi's in Chino Hills....and ordered breakfast for dinner. I ordered a chicken fried steak, B ordered some sausage and we both had potatoes and eggs. We immediately knew something was up when B smelled a strong fish odor coming from her plate. Seeing that she ordered no seafood with her breakfast sausage she began sniffing around her plate to see where the smell was coming from. She even looked into the next booth just to make sure Pamela Anderson wasn't sitting next to us.

Meanwhile, feeling sorry for B and her fishy smelling plate but not sorry enough to stop me from eating my food (I'm an awful friend when I'm hungry) I start to dig into my potatoes and notice something....odd. The potatoes were sauteed with a bunch of spices, onions and what not, with the skin left on them and I noticed an unusually large piece of "potato skin" lying in between the pile of potatoes. It particularly caught my eye because it looked like a perfectly shaped diamond. I looked closer and put it on my fork to see if indeed this was a potato skin or a large piece of onion because if it was the latter, it was headed for my napkin because onions - EW.

Only it wasn't an onion nor was it a potato skin - and I know this because it CRAWLED OFF my fork as I was examining it.

Dinner was officially over as I huddled in the corner of our booth swatting imaginary bugs off my hair and downing my tea just in case any bugs got in my mouth even though I hadn't taken a bite off my plate. Then I panicked and wondered if bugs were in my tea so I tried to spit it back up and .......yeah, you get the picture. I was a mess.

Meanwhile, B was still trying to solve the mystery of the fishy smell and immediately solved it when she took a bite of her potatoes that she discovered (too late) were rotten. Henceforth the culprit for the low tide scent of her food was found. (Pamela Anderson was off the hook ..for now.) She hunched into her corner of the booth eating sugar packets by the handful trying to get the rotten fish potato taste out from the back of her throat.

It was a sad scene.

The waiter tried to say the bug must have 'flew' into the my plate; however unless the bug 'flew' into my plate and decided to roll around in the spices and oil for kinky bug reasons unknown to us, there was no way that could have happened. There was no 'flying' bug in or around our area when we sat down and this bug was COVERED in spices and looked a tad bit singed. That bitch was flying no where even if it wanted to. He also tried to tell B that her potatoes shouldn't smell or taste like fish since they don't cook their meats on the same grill as the potatoes - I don't think he addressed the fact that they were rotten but I did notice that as he took away the plate he had it about as far away from him as he possibly could. Thankfully the manager knew that shit was nasty and didn't make us pay for the food; however, the damage had already been done as B got seriously sick in the car. We didn't make it to the party. I ended up with an unopened half gallon bottle of Mojito sitting in my fridge, calling it an early night and having nightmares about bugs spicing up their bug sex life by rolling around in my sauteed potatoes.

Now normally - a bottle of mojito and me are automatically good friends but the friendship is brief because I will drink that bitch up. However, the reason for the unopened bottle is because the next day, my throat began to throb and hurt whenever I swallowed. Little did I know this was the beginning of what would ultimately end up as strep throat with a sprinkling of the flu. I was a zombie Monday and Tuesday - living off of mushy foods, liquids and medicine.

When Wednesday came around, my left lymph node was swollen to what felt like the size of a small ping pong ball only this ping pong ball was made of puss filled flesh.

Tasty.

It also felt as if my throat had one of those one way only spikes you see at parking lots and anything that I attempted to swallow was immediately going the wrong way. By the time I made it to the doctor's office on Thursday, I could barely swallow my own spit without crying out to sweet baby Jesus for mercy. She gave me some antibiotics that was about the size of a small child and told me to take TWO of these baby sized pills twice a day right AFTER I told her that I felt like soiling myself whenever I swallowed anything bigger than a rice krispy. Thanks doc.

And why is it that EVERY TIME I go to the doctor's office the conversation always leads back to my crotch??

I know, I know, this post is long enough without me going off on doctor's crazy obsession with pap smearing me until I'm smeared the fuck out. But seriously, I was in the office but 10 minutes with a throat bigger than my own head trying to tell her via sign language that I haven't eaten in a week and she wants to know about how the citizens are doing in Vagina Valley and when can she schedule a day to go downtown and have a visit?

Um Vagina Valley is fine thank you - now can we please address the unborn twin that has made an appearance in my throat? Thanks.

Long story cut short - I'm fine now .....

and I have a pap smear scheduled next week.

I Had A Pre-Pubescent Mustache - True Tales From Unfortunate Girl.

When I'm not diligently working, sometimes....SOMETIMES....on occasion ... - I'll take a peek onto Facebook and just browse around for like five minutes before going back to work. Although Facebook must have some sort of weird energy field because whenever I go on there, my clocks go haywire and by the time I get back to work, it says I've been there for a half an hour.

So weird.

Lately these Facebook friends, most of them old high school peeps, have started posting photos from when we were back in high school or even as far back as Jr. High or Elementary. I don't know who started it, but it caught on like wildfire - that even I got swept up in the commotion and posted a few. Thankfully, I wasn't really a part of the 'popular group' and I was an unfortunate looking child that no one was lining up to take a picture of, so I knew that there wouldn't be a lot of old pictures coming back to haunt me on Facebook - my best friend Judy might have a few she could blackmail me with but she is without a personal computer right now so I posted my collection indiscriminately, feeling confident it wouldn't come back and bite me in the ass.

However, it did come back and bite me in the ass when I woke up this morning and saw that old h.s. chum, Sherri, had tagged me on two pictures titled 'Back in the day..'

CRAAAAAAAP.

And OF COURSE - one of them was from Jr. High. when my appearance resembled that of the transgendered variety. And while it's true that everyone looks dorky in Jr. High, most people at least still represented their gender whereas I think in this picture, I had the makings of what appears to be a light mustache. Fabulous. Thank god I didn't smile or you would have seen my grill in all their crooked pre-braces glory.

It briefly made me want to go back in time and give that little boy a hug and tell her it'll be okay, you get amazing boobs junior year! For reals! And you'll start looking like an actual girl by the time college rolls around! And for the love of Nair - wax that caterpillar off your lip!

Those awkward years sure are the best. Especially when they last well into high school!

Moving right along, sorry I haven't blogged in what seems like forever - there has really been nothing going on as of late, just the usual life; although I am getting ready to do my audition tape for the Australia job and again, I hope you come out in droves and score me five stars after you see it so I may get the gig, pee in my pants with excitement and postpone the move to MISERY (Missouri) if only for 6 months.

I'm sure you've heard of all the hubbub about Britney's new song coming out called If You Seek Amy. And while I agree that it is an inappropriate song to be playing during the day when children can sing along to it - (particularly MINE - lately, the munchkin belts Heartless by Kanye in the car with full abandon.) - I'm REALLY surprised that other lyrics haven't been called into question - not so much for their profanity but more for their stupidity. One particular lyric I had in mind was from Sean Kingston's song, Take You There:

We can go to the tropics, sip pina coladas, shorty I could take you there, or we can go to the slums, where killers get hung, shorty I could take you there.

Clearly the obvious choice is number two, - who wants a boring ol Pina Colada when you can get a front row ticket to a hanging! It's so retro, so Salem Witch Trial chic! I'm only disappointed that Sean didn't offer me a starring role in a snuff film.

Another lyric is Lil Wayne's song Lollipop. Now I could go on and on about Lil' Wayne and his no rhymin' ass - I don't care how great of a rapper you think are when you start singing rhyming words by mixing up your Scrabble game pieces, you've got problems:

I told her back it up like burp burp and make that ass jump like shczerp shczerp.

Now, before I go off about this - is Lil' Wayne a Lil' Slow? Because if he is, then I can almost excuse that lyric otherwise, what exactly is he talking about? Are they having sexual relations or is he having an intervention at a buffet? And how does one make ones ass jump like 'shczerp shczerp?' Inquiring minds want to know because at best my ass can twitch and flap but only when I've eaten some bad Mexican food and there's no restrooms available.

I know - I'm just babbling aren't I? Too bad, the bell doesn't dismiss you, I DO.

Okay, you're excused.

Have a great weekend!

If The Camera Adds 10 Pounds, how many cameras are actually on me???

I just realized that January is almost past us (whiplash. that was quick) and I have failed to put down some of my resolutions. I know, I know, it's so cliche and last year I totally rebelled and said screw resolutions! As a result I've put on some uh, 'additional pounds'. Yes, I blame my non-resolution havin' ass for the rotund person that stands before you today. And NO, the endless bags of Circus Peanuts and Tobleron bars had nothing to do with it! Don't EVER blame the sweets!

You've been warned.

I guess you see where I'm headed with this - I'm doing quite the opposite this year, not only do I have resolutions, but I went all SUPER DUPER cliche and added "losing weight and eating better" as one of them. Yawn I know. Only this time, I think I'm actually going do it instead of just writing it down somewhere and then using it as toilet paper the next day. So what's the difference between this year and the years prior where I've had the same resolution you ask? (in that all knowing, motherly yet doubtful tone.) In the past, I've always wanted to lose weight but it was MAYBE 5 pounds here and 10 pounds there, which was the difference between eating 2 Circus Peanuts instead of 5 Circus Peanuts. (I'm really craving those sugar bombs right now, can you tell?) - It was never anything a little starvation and diet pills couldn't shart out of me in about a two weeks, so I never took it too seriously. Well - all that yo yo sharting finally caught up with me, the 5 pounds turned to 10 pounds, turned to 15 pounds and turned to .....(brace yourself)....... 20 POUNDS!!!

20 pounds is bad enough on a normal sized person but 20 pounds on a midget puts me at defcon oompa loompa and Operation Don't Be A Fat Ass is now in full effect.

What really forced me to join my friend Kim's aptly titled "Operation Don't Be A Fat Ass" resolution wagon was that I had a lot of events that came up last year - three weddings, two of which I was the 'reverend' and a cruise - and all of which required a lot of video and photo documentation. In almost every picture taken of me, it appeared as though a swarm of bees had descended upon my face and body and stung the shit out of me seconds before the picture was snapped. I looked like I had eaten my skinnier self with a side of fries. In other words, I have turned into a swollen, puffy muffin - I'm a puffin:


Well except Puffins are cute and I, with my extra 20 pounds, cannot be called cute at the moment.

Roly poly? sure. Chubbles, ruler of all fried crap with cheese? Perhaps. But cute, NO.
And yes, I do admit, as much as I don't like to place blame - the sweets and starchy delicious crap I ate with abandon MIGHT have had something to do with the extra jiggle in my jangle.

So goodbye Circus Peanuts - you know I still love you but it seems whenever I do love you the most, the rewards are fleeting and the consequences linger (mostly in my mid-section and my face). The same to you House Special Beef from Pick Up Stix, giant Tobleron chocolate bar, Little Debbie zebra cakes, 99 cent spicy chicken sandwich from Carl's Jr. - for such a cheap little whore, you sure loved me good - alas it hurts me to say goodbye to all of you. I know I'll see you again, (in moderation) but it'll never be like it was before. Sniff.

And this year, much to my surprise, I've welcomed...(gulp) ... RUNNING into my life. I'll admit, it's still in the sucking stage where it feels like someone has stuck blazing hot metal poles in my shins and I die a little inside. But after slowly working my way up to 3 miles last week (with a lot of help from my friend Sandy who has lost a whopping 50 pounds since October) and not collapsing into a puddle of broken bones and tears, I will keep at it until my shins are numb from the pain. Hopefully, this tired ol' resolution won't make another appearance next year.

Anyone else on the lose weight resolution wagon with me? Let's help each other's fat asses try not to fall off this year!

A House By The Beach With A Side Of Hammocks and Flip Flops. Order up!

There's a movie called Fools Rush In with Selma Hayek and Matthew Perry and Selma Hayek's character believes that there are 'signs' out there that help us out everyday - we just have to be open to see it. For example, if you're deciding whether or not to go to Las Vegas or Hawaii, and later you bump into a pineapple rushing off to work, or you walk out of the bathroom and see a flowery lei trailing from your shoe. It's a subtle sign you should go to Hawaii.

I'm believe in signs to a certain extent - and I always thought I'd be able to catch subtle signs for certain things and run with it but I just realized that for me to catch a 'subtle sign' it's going to have to be as subtle as hitting me over the head with a sledgehammer and causing some blunt trauma. (OMg run-on sentence like a mofo right?)

Let me hold your hand and walk you through my story - pick your feet up, the carpet's a little sticky...

I'm sure you guys have all heard about that 'dream job' in Australia that was all over the internet and radio this week. If not, let me tell you about this 'job' - basically an Australian tourist company is looking for a 'island caretaker' to stay in a 3 bedroom house on an island by the Australian barrier reef for 6 months. You have to do really hard work such as snorkel, dive, feed the fish, take pictures, check the mail on occasion and then blog about your experience. For your hard hard work, you will be paid 150,000 for the 6 months that you are there.
Sounds grueling right?

When I first saw it on the internet, I kind of chuckled because just the other day I was telling viking hubs about how I wish someone would just hire me to sit around on the beach. Then later, when I was driving the munchkin to school, I briefly pondered about applying but figured they would probably be looking for someone with some kind of journalist background or at least a degree in English. (I know what you're thinking - you mean, the writer of the world renowned Fan letter Fridays, where in one instance I refer to Hugh Hefner's sperm as fossil dust, doesn't have a degree in English?? Shocking I know. ) So I decided to turn on the radio to drown out the voices in my head and the minute I turned it on I heard....

" the dream job in Australia is looking for all applicants, the only requirement is to have a sense of adventure and the ability to blog about your experiences...."

They were talking about it on morning radio and I thought, hmm, well that answered my question! I got home and I received several emails from friends telling me about the dream job, but again, after looking at my email - I went straight to Facebook to poke people and send them fake drinks so they can get fake drunk.

I know. I'm a brick with the word 'Duh' spray painted on it. Don't tell me things I already know okay? Now stop interrupting and let me wrap this up....

Finally, the sledge hammer sign came when I checked the mail and saw this:


A random free DVD about The Australian Barrier Reef!! Seriously. It was one of those, here's a free sample and check out our other DVDs about Rome, Alaska, the Caribbean, etc. But the free sample dvd was about The Australian Barrier Reef!

Sledgehammer sign swings, hits and my brick head shattered to pieces.

I'm fully aware that this could be a coincidence and that thousands of other people probably got this same DVD on the same day, I know this. But still....even for a brick head like me, that's too many signs in one day to ignore. I checked to see if you can take your family and you can, but there's a max on how many people you can take (there's only three of us - so we're good) and the cost for the additional tickets are not covered. So that's it. I'm applying. It can't hurt to try right?

And just between you and me, I've been having secret nightly discussions with God (I bring the coffee, he brings the donuts - and I don't have to tell you they're heavenly. Ba dum dum. - sorry, couldn't help myself.) ever since we decided that we have to (HAVE TO) move to Missouri - I've been, on the sly, begging G-dawg for some kind of miracle to happen to where we wouldn't have to move there right away. I know it's counterproductive of me since I'm also trying to be at peace with the fact that I'm going to be living in Missouri, but again, this is all wishful thinking. I can't stop my wishful thinking. Wishful thinking is what I do - when I jog by houses on the beach, I imagine living in each and every one of those houses and all the fabulous dinners I would host, when I see a plane fly overhead, I imagine it's going to Italy and I'm on it, and when I see Angelina Jolie I imagine I'm Brad Pi...well you get the picture.

It just happens automatically and I don't really know which order God's actually writing down on his pad. (I'm sure most orders He just looks me and shakes his head.) I'm posting my audition video up for you all to see and vote on next week. (The company is choosing 10 candidates to interview and 1 wild card that the people - you guys - pick.)

And hey! Remember, He took our order for that trip to NY to see Madonna' right??!

Maybe He took my order again. :)

Come - be nerdy with me.

A lot of people know this - but just in case you didn't know - I'm a giant nerd and one of the things I'm fascinated about is the universe, space, quantum physics, u.f.o.s, etc. If you get me going, I can talk on and on about this stuff, and tell you my theories on certain things that'll make Scientologists look normal.

Anyways, below is a short 10 min. film called the Powers of 10 that my brother showed me a couple years ago that I thought was just amazing. I don't know what year it was made, but it looks like it was stolen off a film reel from a science class in the 1970s. But try to ignore that and watch it anyways.
It'll make you feel small, it'll make you feel huge and it makes you glad to just be a part of it all.
Oh did you see that?? I totally just spit out lyric and didn't even know it! Booya! Poet -don't know it yo.

(see? Nerd. Huge.)

Wal-Mart Is A Puss Filled Zit on The Earth's Face.

Last night when viking hubs was making dinner, he reminded me that we were out of diet soda and could I be a dear and pick some up. Actually it was more, "hey, get off the computer and go pick up some pop.' After a heated discussion on why it should be called SODA and not POP because I said so, I left to go get the SODA not POP. I was all prepared to drive to Rite Aid to pick some up before I changed my mind and drove one more block to Wal-Mart because hey! Sodas there are only .67 cents because they weasel out of giving their employee health benefits or a decent pay. Sweet. (not really, but I can't afford to take a stand against Wal-Mart right now okay? get off my back.)

Every time I go to Wal-Mart I always feel like I'm going into a different world. The people that frequent the place seem to have been manufactured by Wal-Mart themselves to wander around the store and give the place that "next door neighbor who scratches his butt in public then sniffs his fingers" kind of ambiance. Because I never see the characters I see at Wal-Mart anywhere else BUT Wal-Mart. So anyways, I pull into the parking lot, within the vicinity of the store and immediately I see...

...5 kids under the age of eight 'chasing' each other in the parking lot as their parents hastily walk ahead of them to the entrance. I swear the parents had this glazed look over their eyes as if Wal-Mart had put some kind of 'buy one pack of tube socks get 1 free' trance on them. Meanwhile, I swerve to the side to avoid hitting two of their five children.

...a couple - both on the phone - mindlessly walking out of the store and deciding that the crosswalk where all the cars enter to get to the parking lot would be a wonderful place to have a slow evening stroll.

...3 cars lined up behind one car trying to 'score' the parking space in the front. Mind you, there was an endless amount of free parking spaces about 15 feet from this 'coveted spot'.

Oh but the antics didn't end there...

As I entered the store, I grabbed a cart because I'm already so annoyed at Wal-Mart that I figured I better stock up on the soda not pop so I don't have to come back for a while. I walk over to grab a cart and almost ran over a 3 year old who darted past my legs - as I backed up to avoid smashing her little head with my knee (oh who am I kidding...by knee I mean my thigh), I accidentally nudged her mother. I blurted out a sorry, excuse me because that's just what I automatically do when I bump into someone. She looked at me like I had leprosy, took the cart that I was going after and hit her own 3 year old with the cart in her haste. Her three year old was okay of course, (kids are rubber...or in this case half covered in snot-it makes a good shield) but I couldn't help but smile and quietly thank mother karma.

Deep breaths, grab a cart, go to the damn soda not pop aisle and get the hell out of here, I told myself. After maneuvering my way through several women dressed in moo moos, a handful of hairy beer bellies peeking out from under a too small shirt and morbidly obese people in slow ass motorized wheel chairs determined to get in my way, I finally got to the sodas and stocked up.
As I headed to the check out but a bitter old soul with ear hair bursting out of newsboy cap rounded the corner out of no where and walked right in front of my cart. I had another cart to the left of me and a rack of clothes to the right of me, so I was stuck and had to wait for the cart to the left of me to move so I could let Grumpy Mcwrinkles through. Meanwhile, I smiled at him apologetically even though it was HE who got in my way - he could have easily side stepped into the women's clothing section, between the racks and gotten out of there. He made no such attempts to move, so I scooted out of Mr. Metamucil's way as soon as the other cart moved along. I said, 'excuse me' like my momma told me to and he had the nerve to sigh heavily and roll his eyes!!!! I told him to go have intercourse with himself and hopefully he'll break a hip while doing so.

In the nicest way possible of course.

Then I prayed to God to forgive me for cursing out a bitter old piece of jerky and to please, please, pretty, please part the wave of idiots so that I may cross over to the promise land of the check out counter (you know, like he did in biblical times.)

God came through and I got to the self check out post without much incident. Well..except for that Wal-Mart employee who came up from behind me and yelled into my ear, "BEHIND YOU!" I thought maybe she was carrying something heavy so I immediately moved out of the way, sensing the urgency in her voice. Come to find out she wasn't carrying anything, she just REALLY needed to get her hands on a bag of chips.

Whew! Good thing I was on top of my game otherwise who knows what would have happened if she hadn't gotten those chips! She might have had to go to the check out aisle next to me that was closed and had no people around it! Or...(gasp) ..she might have had to use the term, "excuse me" in an appropriate volume - but that's apparently a foreign concept to about 95 % of the people who frequent/work at Wal-Mart.

Moral(s) of the story: I should have stopped at Rite-Aid. Less Wal-Mart and More Target in 2009. I should drink more water and less soda not pop. Wal-Mart is to men and women with muffin tops as refrigerators are to magnets. And it's called soda not pop. don't argue with me.

Happy New Years Everyone!!

I'm staying in of course because when you have a child, the best party to have is a party on the couch with a big bowl of Tostinos and ranch. We're doing our usual, appetizers for dinner to ring in the New Years. I wish I had some sweet story on why this has become a 'family tradition' as of late, or at least some cultural reference - like this is what viking hubs great ancestors used to do every new year... rape, pillage and fry up some Tostinos to reward themselves for a hard day's work.. but no, there is no significance to our 'appetizers for dinner' New Year. Truth be told, Viking hubs and I take whatever occasion and turn it into a mini deep fry fest. No joke. We'll be doing appetizers for dinner again for Superbowl too and neither of us even follow football.

Seriously though - we'll be staying in, eating bad fried food and viking hubs begrudgingly agreed to have a Kathy Griffin night. (we're watching the entire first season and ringing in the new year with her on CNN with Anderson Cooper). Again, this isn't some 'tradition' in the family although I'm actively trying to make it one because I could watch Kathy Griffin all the live long day. But Kathy is kind of an 'adults only' comedian so while munchkin is awake, it'll be Spongebob - THEN Kathy after she goes to bed.

Here's a funny little cartoon made from her stand-up cd called 'For Your Consideration' - which she specifically made as a joke to try to get nominated for a Grammy - and she did!!! It's brilliant.

EDIT: This is from last night's telecast and why I love Kathy, check out the 4:30 mark where she tells some heckler on the street to shut up and 'knock the dick out of your mouth!' omg. she's fantastic.





HAPPY NEW YEARS EVERYONE!! I'm so happy to be welcoming 2009! Stay Safe and I'll see you all in the New Year!

Age Vs. Pamela Anderson, Round 15. Guess who's winning?

Spontaneous FLS! WHoot!


To My Darling Pam,

Thank you Pam – I’ve always wanted to know what a moose knuckle would look like if someone bedazzled it. I don’t know what’s more disturbing, me having odd thoughts about front wedgies or seeing your snatch having a light lunch with your leotard. I vote the latter but it was a pretty close race. After seeing this picture and peeling my eyeballs from the back of my skull, another thought occurred to me. How are you going to take this thing off dear Pam?What with the Kid Rock and Tommy Lee residue you’ve accumulated over the years leaving your body permanently sticky and smelling like beer soaked cigarette butts, I really hope you had an extra hand available to help you pry open your vagijaws to get it out – I’m sure it was a lot like pulling apart a grilled cheese sandwich.

And on that note, I’m going to gargle out the vomit from my mouth and scrub my eyeballs raw. TTYL!


With Love,

Yo Momma



To My Darling Jennifer,

Okay, okay, I get it. You have a new movie coming out. If I promise to go see it, will you please stop parading around with ‘he who sings with runny ca ca face?’ (It’s his Indian name). You might also want to tell him that during these stage photo ops, he should try and look like he’s happy to be with you, not like he’s about to be led to his own execution. Now, normally I try not to see movies with you as the leading role, because all the yawning gives me lockjaw. (EXCEPT Along Came Polly. High five on that one) – but I’m afraid all this shameless promotion will escalate to yet even more staged photo ops with your man-child - only this time you'll be dry humping his leg like a Chihuahua.

So YES! I will go see your movie!! There! Satisfied? Now can you please go back inside the house and tend to your Brangelina shrine? I know you’re day just isn’t complete without putting yet another pin in your Angelina Jolie doll and coating your Brad Pitt poster with fresh tears.

With Love,

Yo Momma.



To My Darling Pete,

Here’s a list of things I would rather do than hear you talk to Howard Stern about how much you heart penis vagina and how great your ‘sex life’ is with Ashley Simpson:

1. Watch Carrot Top work out in thong.
2. Listen to Kevin Federline’s ‘Popozao” song on a loop for 24 hours.
3. Handle Pamela Anderson’s used leotards and eat a sandwich immediately afterwards.
4. Make sweet sweet love to Star Jones. (Okay, I dry heaved while typing that.)
5. Touch Paris Hilton without a hazmat suit
6. Pop Danny Bonaduce’s steroid induced back pimples.
7. Listen to Poppa Joe Simpson inappropriately talk about his daughter Jessica Simpson’s breasts while he has his hands shoved deep into his pockets ‘looking for change.’
8. Look at Joan Van Ark’s picture before I go to bed.
(that link is not for the faint of heart)
9. Get my eyebrows plucked by this hot bitch:


10. ..AND a bikini wax.

Seriously Pete, I'm quite positive the only ‘sex life’ you have with Ashley Simpson was when she rear ended you with your flat iron because your three speed, hands free dild ran out of batteries -or when you and Papa Joe Simpson play ‘hide the gerbil.”

Stop fronting. You, my friend, are no Tom Cruise. At least Tom Cruise has the decency to make his wife look like a little boy.

With Love,

Yo Momma.


I know, can you believe it?!?! In between the Christmas shopping madness and the munchkin's birthday party, I managed to put together a semi-decent FLF for you guys! I'm a little rusty and for that I am sorry, but I figured I owed you guys something since I've been pretty much MIA on this blog for almost a week now.

Just don't start expecting it on a regular basis just yet - well unless Pamela Anderson keeps wearing things that make her crotch look like a stale stack of pancakes -then expect a post every other day.

I've Got The Shoes Baby, You've Got The Motion...

Mr. Bush was causing a commotion at a press conference in Dubya and revealed his cat-like reflexes!

In the middle of the press conference a reporter proceeded to throw two of his shoes at President Bush who dodges them surprising ease. I have to admit, I was impressed. I think Mr. Bush missed his calling as a prize fighter. Quick left! Quick right! Stick! Move! Jab jab! He could give Pacquiao a run for his money! Mr. Bush already functions as if he's punch drunk anyways, so no amount of hits to the head could affect him.

What am I talking about? No one would be able to catch Mr. George "Slick Weaver" Bush.

'Slick Weaver Bush.' I think I saw that movie on Showtime at like 2:00 in the morning...

Your Best Friend's Fetus Just Added You As A Friend! Click here to Confirm.

* So I FINALLY opened a Facebook account in September because everyone was like, "OMG, you sad little raisin still hanging out at myspace. The older, more mature folks kick it at Facebook!" And the funny thing about Facebook is if you find one person from high school, Facebook takes it up on itself to suggest adding every person who ever went to your high school along with their unborn children. It's freaky. But on a positive note, my good friend Elisa, whom I previously thought to be lost in space, found me on facebook and alas, she's not the space cowboy I thought she was. She was just in Portland somewheres - but she has space cowboy tendencies and that's good enough for me.

* For fun, sometimes I like to pretend I'm in Pamela Anderson's head, watching her thought process. (which I'm guessing is a lot like watching clouds pass over the sky - only with a faint smell of cheese Doritos and hot garbage in the air). I was particularly interested in learning what went through her head (besides wind and lint) when she put together this outfit.

"Hmm, maybe I'll let my open crotch sores get some air and not wear pants today. No one will notice if I carry this shiny purse."

Oh Pam, why so classy?

* Operation get the hell outta Dodge is in full swing. We're officially going to be living in Bumblescum, Missouri in about 8 months or so. No, Bumblescum is NOT a real town otherwise I'd already be Mayor - nothing but awesomeness can come out of living in a town called Bumblescum.
I'm almost welcoming the move at this point. I'm just over being broke. Moving to Missouri means we can breath again and that is a good thing....well that and I just realized that they have Sonic over there and the thought of getting tots covered in chili through a drive thru makes my soul sing sonnets.

* Along with planning this move to Mizzo, I've looked at some hip hop classes in Kansas City that I can take. Not just to keep myself busy but to work on my meet Madonna masterplan number 687. Since my masterplan (686) to polka my way into Madonna's tour with my accordion didn't work this year. In fact, I was still so bitter about it that I was giving the guy who did get the gig the side eye and hateful glares during the concert whenever I could. So my next masterplan is to improve my dance moves so that I may pop and lock my way into her tour next year.
She SHALL fall in love with the midget's sweet sweet moves! Trust it.
Quick, what should my B-girl name be???

* Is it weird that nothing in my head says this is ridiculous? In fact, the more ridiculous, the more my brain gives me the green light to go ahead with the idea. Even viking hubby is no longer surprised. He just smiles and nods at me like I'm a short bus rider with a helmet.

* I used to know a guy who, even after taking a shower, would still kind of look sweaty and dirty. I mean, part of me know that he was damp because of the water, but he still appeared to have a dirty film covering his body. It wasn't visible but it was there. A dirt dusting that's so powerful in it's scum that normal water cannot washeth away. I think Matthew McConaughey might be one of those guys. I can't tell if he just got out of the shower or the gym - he looks as if he smells of bong water and whiskey, even worse, I can't understand why I find it so appealing.
Maybe it's his abs?
Naaaah.

Just to make sure, let's see what those abs look like again....


Nope. Those abs don't look appealing at all.

What the frackity frack?

Apparently Blogrush shut down and I lost all my favorite blog links!!! Pretty please leave me a comment so that I may bookmark your blog! I miss you so!

Turkey, Mashed Potatoes and a heaping helping of beantown boys!

That picture is just some image I pulled up on google, but basically it's me about 15 or so years ago. Minus the Peggy Hill hair, and those mini-dildos she's holding...(what are those????)
OH and wtf with the Michael Jackson posters? Replace those with Michael J. Fox posters and then we'd really be in business.

Anyywaysss.....that picture took longer to explain that I wanted.

A long long time ago, my little midget ass got bamboozled by five boys from bean town. I was one of the many tween minions who would go to Spencer's Gifts at the mall and clean them the fuck out of NKOTB buttons that were the size of plates. And god forbid if another girl was there trying to hoard all the Donnie buttons because she would get the back of her head clubbed by a 4'8 hormonal tyrant. (ahem). And yes, I'll give you a moment to chuckle at the fact that I'm the exact same height now as I was in sixth grade.

You all right now? Have you wiped off your tears of hilarity? Okay, moving right along.

NKOTB represent the days where the only worry I had in my little head was if I could get my mom and dad to buy me a Big Bopper AND a Tiger Beat magazine the next time we went to Vons. My daddy even got me tickets to their Magic Summer concert, (thanks Daddy!) although my seat was so far up they appeared to be the same size as they were on my button. Regardless, I never forgot that day and I never thought in my wildest dreams that I would EVER go to a New Kids On The Block concert EVER EVER again. Especially in my thirties (EARLY thirties....emphasis on EARLY). So imagine my utter glee when they announced a comeback. I thought I was going to be the only jack ass excited over this, but judging from their recent success, I'm not the only jack ass holding on to their t-shirts and buttons.....and a flag, and some comic books, and a hardcover coffee table book, and ...well you get the picture, if not a clear visual of why my garage is cluttered.

So this past week, I was reunited with my boyfriends again and I had a fellow NKOTB jackass with me! (Hi Jenessa!). We got there with no tickets and were informed within a couple minutes of getting to the Nokia theater that they were sold out but there was a 'small chance' they might sell some leftover crap tickets later. Long story short, they did offer crap tickets...we said no and waited. (I have Madonna concert experience remember?)...they offered us less crappy tickets... we said no...and waited, and waited...until...

"Hey girls, would you like two tickets in the fifth row at the pit?"


SOLD!!!!! And for a night, two stay at home moms were 12 years old again....

Here's our magical night with our long lost boyfriends!

My Mood Swing Is Equipped With A Baby Seat.

You know, I can keep a poorly written post up for weeks on end, I post cheesy youtube vids up just because I'm lazy, I even post half-assed FLFs (yeah remember those?) just to say I did it but I cannot for the life of me leave a whiny, wah wah baby post up for long.

So forget the last post. Yes, I'm still sad that we might have to move and thank you everyone who posted comments - seriously, it really did make me feel better about the whole situation. I can get quite dramatic and over the top when the waterworks start coming in so it's nice to have people reel me back into the reality of the situation. (along with the bright side) And hey - as of now I'm still in Cali. and I'm going to be thankful because...oh that's right, in a couple days it's THANKSGIVING! And no matter what happens in the future, this year, I'm celebrating in shorts and flip flops and just keep telling myself that everything happens for a reason.
So this is me with a straw, sucking it the fuck up.

Ooh brain freeze. I also thank, this kid because you just can't stay sad after watching that.

Moving right along..let's have a peek at the Hollywood freakshow shall we?
(see? This isn't even a half-assed FLF, this is a 3/4 buttcheek FLF!)

So when two vapid idiots have a baby, does a black whole swallow up the parents to prevent them from passing their idiocy on to their child? Unfortunately, no. Last time I checked, Tommy Lee and Pamela Anderson are still polluting the atmosphere with their overinflated sense of self worth and pock marked genitals. But I'm not talking about that crusty couple, I'm talking about Peter Wentz and Asslee Simpson's new bundle of joy; Bronx Mogli Wentz.

Let that name sink in a little bit. Then hope this child gets a free car from the BMW for advertising their initials for the rest of his life. Plus, when other boys go out and play catch with their fathers, this poor kid is going to go on mani-pedi outings with his dad. I'm sure Peter can't wait to pass on his straight iron to his little man. If anyone deserves a BMW, it's this poor child.
Do you think they take turns breast feeding?

Anyways, mark this date on your calendar. The day the midget kind of, sort of, talks smack about the Queen. First of all - girrrl, between me and you, drop the A-Tard. Please. Go have your fling and then pat his ass gently out the door. No overnight stays, no kissing on the lips, and from the looks of him, no talking. Just a fling girl, then fling him out the window. I don't approve of this affair on so many levels, but mostly because he always looks like he's huffed a few too many computer cleaners. There's a Mary Jo Buttafuco thing going on with his face that just doesn't sit well with me. And I'm betting all my circus peanuts and diet Dr. Pepper that he's an open mouth breather. Second, this dress.

The only way this dress will ever be okay is if I can smoke it off you baby.
Or if you were just being festive....
Because if that's the case, then I'll be more than happy to check out the presents under that tree. BazzZING! (I love the mother of all cougars okay. Don't judge me.) I still heart you Ms. Ciccone. Marry me, adopt me, or kidnap me so I don't have to live in Missouri. Amen.

This year's sexiest man alive was Hugh Jackman, which was a HUGE improvement from last year's pick, Matt Damon. Matt Damon gets me about as hot as a bowl of Grapenuts.
So good pick People magazine because I definitely agree. He is fwine...

Sexiest man this year? I agree!!
I agree again,and again, and one again for every ab muscle...

Phew! Gettin' hot up in here with those fine ass pictures. I think I'm going to need a bowl of Grape Nuts to cool down a little...or get a picture of Matt Damon - same thing.
Although, on a side note, I have a feeling Mr. Jackman might not be opposed to having a little tickle pickle party with Mrs. Tom Cruise. If you get what I'm Clay Aiken sayin....

Sing it girl!!

Another reason I'm cheering up so fast is I get to relive my pre-pubey tweeny days of awkwardness with my friend Jenessa because The Block is in town baby! As in not so new kids.
Although, you know with my budget, our seats will be in the cheapy sections so high up that I'm positive we'll need to hire a sherpa just to get up there.

(The cheapy tickets are like 40 bucks I think and the sad thing is I sold something on ebay just to get some extra cash for this. - thank you random stranger who FINALLY bought my PX90 dvds after I posted it for several weeks.)

So what to do in such drastic measures? Act like a fool of course and throw all dignity out the window. (Thank goodness I lost my shiny box of dignity about three Madonna concerts ago). I'm going to beg for better tickets via a sign, a handful of kazoos and some brilliant kazoo playing on my part. I'm pretty sure once the New Kids get word that an awesome albeit freakishly short chick is out front playing nkotb songs via a kazoo they'll throw the backstage doors wide open for us with front row tickets in hand right?
Right? For sure right??

You think I'm joking but really you'll be there...

Video coming soon! (it won't be a five hour vid this time I promise)