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.

I Hate To Tell You This, But You're Easy Like Sunday Morning. Sorry.

So console yourself and your whorish ways with a little FLM!!!! (Fan Letter Monday because that's how I roll).


To My Darling Jenna,

Congratulations! If rumors are true, you and your 8 pound water head boyfriend are with child! I can’t tell you how terrified happy I am for both of you! His sperm must have GPS navigation built in to avoid all the obstacles it encountered, as I’m sure there’s a few men from 1983, an old futon and my friend Elisa (where is that girl?) wandering around lost in the universal manhole that is your Virginia.

So brava for his amazing swimmers, who probably just head butted their way to your calloused uterus, kicked the tumbleweeds out of the way and buttered up to your unsuspecting eggs, who have long given up on being found and unfortunately let themselves go:


I’m putting together a nice congratulatory basket for you, so look out for that in the mail. It comes complete with underwear made completely out of rubber bands, (too keep the baby from falling out when you’re 4 months along– the rubber bands will bounce him/her right back up in there until month 9. Clever!) along with a snorkel for the doctor for your check ups and for when he delivers the baby. The day when you’re 40 centimeters dilated and he walks out of there holding your baby is going to be the happiest day of your life!

With Love,

Yo Momma.

To My Darling Matthew McConaughey,

You know, normally, b.o. slash patchouli smelling, vegan hippies who hang out at coffee shops in O.C. (you know, like really hippies do..) are just fun to point at, laugh and eat hamburgers in front of with your mouth open. (oh God, I can hear PETA rustling around in my backyard already after that comment). But with you, it’s different, little things like your ABS! penchant to play bongos naked, your ABS! description of the birth experience as “getting tribal on it” and YOUR FANTABULOUS ABS! wanting to plant a tree with the placenta and not actually being a vegan (I just got shot with a soy paintball) makes me love you oh so much more.
That baby is so lucky to have a father who has ABS! such a great stash of some sweet ass pot positive outlook on life.

God bless you Mr. McConaughey.

Now take your shirt off and pass the dutchie on the left hand side.

With Love,

Yo Momma.

To My Darling Audrina,

If you’re not smart enough to get out of douche infested waters, I don’t even know why I’m bothering to write you this letter since it’s clear that you haven’t read anything since that novel about ‘dick’ and ‘jane’ – and no, having your assistant read US Magazine to you does not count.

But here I am, always the humanitarian, warning you about the effects of overexposure to 100% pure Los Angeles vaginal irrigations tools– which you seem to have boiled yourself in judging from that picture. You fool!! How did you not see it? TWO Fedora hats within bitch slapping range? The guy with the pink Captain and Tenille hat in the back (I kind of want him), fledging future man boobies, soft hands and MANicures as far as the eye can see?? (To make it a real 100 percent tool is a guy who is actually from somewhere else but Los Angeles. – which I'm positive is about 95 percent of the soft meat in that pool.)

So don’t be surprised if you wake up suddenly idolizing Dane Cook, have an urge to buy white rimmed sunglasses, wear an“Ed Hardy” trucker hat sideways (because what says hardworking, dirty trucker like a $100 dollar Ed Hardy hat, I ask of you???) and have an aching in your mangina for a frozen yogurt at PinkBerry – it probably means you swallowed a little of that pool water but not to worry, much like their erections, it’ll wear off in a couple of minutes.

With Love,

Yo Momma.

And finally, at tribute to America!
America Ferrera that is, who, with a couple of facial expressions and no words, said what we all feel about Hollywood and brainless idiots like Blake Lively who think 'acting' in Gossip Girl (with its Shakespearean like plots) is an art form worthy of respect. If looks of disgust could kill, Blake Lively would have had a giant, gaping wound in the middle of her head. (we can only wish)

Please watch closely, the magic of America:
P.s. also, let me remind you that tomorrow is Midget Appreciation day! (um, my Amazon wish list is conveniently located on the side bar of this blog *cough cough!*)
That's one more notch on my belt age wise! and height wise, well, that remains at the 6th grade notch. Figures.



I LOVE AMERICA!!!!!!

FLF: Sexy Like Warm Milk With A Pube In It.

To my darling Mrs. Stewart:

Can I just tell you what a wonderful wife you are? No really, I’m going to give credit where credit it due. I’ve always thought that Rod Stewart was about as sexy as warm milk with a pube hair floating in it, but if the great grandfather of all metrosexuals (an all pink ensemble? Really?) gets you a lactatin’ then go you! I’m sure you already change his diapers on a daily basis, why not give him a feeding while he’s waiting for the Viagra to kick in? You are just doing your duties as a gold digger, a care giver, Mrs. Stewart and for that I applaud you.
I hope Rod knows how hard it is to find a woman who is willing to breastfeed the elderly AND not mind smelling like old man spittle and Ben Gay 24 hours a day. You really are quite a catch.

With Love,

Yo Momma Dearest



To my darling Mini me,

I just wanted to let you know that I’m not going to freak out about your recent *leaked* sex tape. So what if you’re the size of my big toe? Big toes need some sexy times too right? And props to the girl that kind of looks like Jeff Goldblum's offspring when he got stuck in Appalachia and went looking for some strange.
If you’re hittin’ that right, then high five Mini Me! But speaking of hittin’ it, how do you fu ??? I mean, can you get your leg like…up…like…??? Uh….how does your pen…? Um..where do you get the leverage to even…???? Is your arm ….??? Like is that what you use instead of …???? Do guys just do ora …?? I wonder if it looks like she’s giving bir…???

No! Never mind! I don’t want to know!

Yes I do!
No I don’t!
YES!
NO!
YES!
No NO! I don’t!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh God, I think I need some therapy or electroshocks to forget I ever had this disturbing train of thought.

If you ever wondered what your lawn gnome would look like if he made out with someone, watch this and then please go get some help.


With Love,

Yo Momma Dearest

To My Darling Matthew,

While most people can tell its summertime by the sun in the sky and the smell of flowers in the air, I can usually tell its summertime when your shirt comes off and the smell of bong water and Matthew B.O. (smells like mint and sexy in case you’re wondering) waft across my nostrils. I take a deep breath and take comfort in knowing that T-shirts will be nonexistent in your life for three whole months.

So it came as a shock and surprise to me when I saw this picture:


Um? Is that a piece of fabric covering your body??? I did not get the memo nor did I give you permission to put on a shirt. It clearly states in our “McConaughey Secretly Loves The Midge And Will Do Her Every Bidding” agreement that:

A. Thou shalt manscape.
B. Thou shalt spontaneously flex even ESPECIALLY when the situation does not call for it.
C. Thou shalt giveth the midget private bongo lessons once a month sans loin cloth.
D. Thou shalt work out at inappropriate places and do push ups on every available flat surface, including the Olsen twin's chests.

But the last and the most important rule:

E. Nay shall a piece of clothing touch thine upper extremities when out in public for 3 months or if the weather remains aboveth 20 degrees-eth.
(his nips get all hard at about 23 degrees so you know, a shirt would just ruin it.)

I guess maybe you wore that shirt so that weight thingy you have on doesn’t scratch your pweety wittle (big) chest while you’re running and I can excuse that, however, next time, please call and run this by me. I could have easily been strapped on to your bare chest while you ran with no fear of getting any kind of nick or scratch…although taking me off would be a whole different story. (can you saw jaws of life?)....but whatever, I'd be face first in your chest you'd get a good work out and that's what matters.

With Love,

Yo Momma Dearest
(in case you hadn't already noticed I LOVE CROSSING OUT SHIT when I write these letters..I abuse it, I'm sorry.)

I KNOW! I KNOW! That last one was LAME but today's FLF post was full of disturbing images of grandpas having breast milk shakes and a lawn ornament having sexy times, so I had to give your eyeballs (and gag reflex) a break. Plus it IS summer and that means I HAVE to post shirtless McConaughey pictures at least every other FLF post or I get all jittery and anxious. Then I start to feel old age creeping up from behind me and.....oh wait, it was just Rod Stewart.

Get away Papaw! It’s not feeding time yet!

Oh God, I’m just full of corn and not enough alcoholic beverages today. My apologies.

Have a great weekend everybody!

Mondays Were Made For A Shirtless McConaughey

In order to reclaim my heterosexuality after my blatant lesbionic lusting for Angelina Jolie, I present to you the man that could pose a threat to Ms. Jolie.....





That smirk of his alone has the power to pull down panties...yow.

I know this doesn't make up for my lack of posting lately but hopefully it'll hold you over until I can get this damn grown up stuff like "work" out of the way and get back to what REALLY matters..and in my case that would be blogging about nonsense.

So sad.

Can someone please tell Madonna to hurry up, release an album and go on tour so that I can once again mercilessly elbow random strangers in the crotch to get to the front of the stage. (get it??? in the crotch?? because I'm short!! HA! .......never mind...)

Seriously come back later. This is just sad.

EDIT: Just found out ol' Madge was in Los Angeles. Guess I'm going to have to scale that wall that surrounds her property again. I don't know why she just doesn't let me in the front door, it would be so much easier that way and really, what's with the "screaming" and "calling the cops" whenever I come over Madge?? It was funny the first time but now it's just kind of annoying. Call me crazy but a restraining order every year? It makes me think you don't want to be friends anymore.