Chock Full of Shit.

The blackheads have taken over my nose.... again.

Before I get into the ugly details, let me tell you about this oily war zone I have on my face that used to be my nose. I have a typical Filipino nose. A nose that no troll could live under because I have no bridge. (That last sentence made a lot more sense in my head I swear.) Then if you go just past the no bridge, you'll get to the bulk of my nose, which sits on my face like a half-eaten mushroom.

On top of this deformed mushroom is where the blackheads have multiplied like horny rabbits. It has always been a volatile area since the pores on top of my nose are so large you can park your Ford Fiesta in there. But lately, it has gotten a lot worse - maybe its the humidity here in the Midwest or maybe my parents were right, I am full of shit and I'm finally overflowing.

click on the picture to see the gory details....

Regardless, the blackheads on my nose have been GROWING WILD (<-- hi GB2 subject of the week!) on my nose as of late. Thankfully, due to my short stature, a normal sized person would have to take a plank position to even see the top of my nose. It hasn't offended anyone but me. The problem is mine and mine alone. So I armed myself with a Biore strip. A Biore strip is not only entertaining in that it's the only time you can paper mache your nose with no apologies, but it also sucks the blackhead out harder than Pamela Anderson can suck a hot dog through a straw. (Again that was way more hilarious in my head than on paper. Stick it out folks, its gonna be a short post I promise.)

So there I was, feeling victory being had on top of my paper mache'-ed nose while I caught up on Jersey Shore episodes. (Yes I watch it. And yes I hate myself for loving it).

Super Strength Biore

15 minutes later, while putting the fist pumping on pause, I peeled the strip off nice and slow, pulling out the enemy - expecting to see a handful of them only it was more than a handful. It looked like a grassy meadow - except the grass was made with oil, dirt and stank that had been squatting on my nose pores.

It was satisfying, like every Biore war I have on my nose. A satisfying feeling seeing those tiny slivers of muck standing out in the open, exposed for the disgusting things that they are and disposed in my bathroom trash can.

So satisfying in fact that I wrote a whole post about it. I'm enjoying it right now because I know my vacant nose pores is a temporary thing. Slowly but surely - the squatters will come back and I'll have to break out the big Biore guns. Good thing there's six in the box.

For now, let's have a moment of silence to listen to the wind whistle inside my empty spacious pores. Thank you for sharing my victory. And feel free to enjoy looking at my squeaky clean mushroom nose. Try not to fuck up your back while you're admiring it.

Silly is How I Forgot I Had To Write A Post About Silly.

SILLY IS ..... this article that gave a list of foods that would suppress your appetite. Eating stuff like apples, nuts, leafy greens, pickles .... I realize these are all things to fill up my stomach so I don't feel hungry. But being 'hungry' is not really the problem. The problem is that even when I'm full, there's ALWAYS room at the inn for a Teriyaki burger and a kit kat. That's the real problem and the only solution is to magically make a bowl of salad taste like a bowl of rocky road ice cream. So please, take that sad little apple you're telling me to eat, slice it up, put some caramelized sugar and cinnamon on top of it, tuck it all in a warm bed of crust and watch me eat it in three bites. Oink.

SILLY IS... diet tips from someone whose ass is as big as mine. I always make sure to take copious notes so I can look back on it later and remind myself what NOT to do.

SILLY IS... Britney Spears. I know. I can't help it. I'm totally amazed by her popularity. I mean REALLY? Are we really getting excited about an album that she has not ONE song writing credit? And it's not like she was busy brushing up on her dancing skills as was clearly demonstrated by her 'performance' on Good Morning America. I have a theory that a real life 'Weekend at Bernie's' is happening here. Crazy bald headed Britney slipped on her own puddle of Vicodin induced sweat years ago and broke her neck on the sidewalk. Since then, old voice audio has been auto tuned and spliced together to create new songs then her body is propped and prodded onstage to thousands of delusional fans. Those record producers are clever folk.

SILLY IS... the loss of my balls. I used to love watching horror movies and scaring myself but nowadays, I can barely watch a trailer for a scary movie without looking away or putting my hands over my eyes like an ass wad. I really want to watch Paranormal Activity but like I said, I'm waiting for my balls to drop.

SILLY IS... what my daughter calls her vagina. She calls it her 'Pinkers' and I die laughing EVERY. TIME.

SILLY IS... how I'm completely and totally obsessed with my phone. I'm constantly fingering it. I'm always taking off and adding on apps, I read books on it, watch t.v., use it as a flashlight, use it as a GPS, communicate with it, use the internet, play games, listen to music, Skype on it, if it came with an attachment, I'm pretty sure it'd be my vibrator too.

SILLY IS...how old my wardrobe is. When you find a shirt with no holes and call it a 'going out' shirt, I think it's time to schedule a trip to the mall don't you?

SILLY IS ... The Regular Show. I can't get enough of it.

SILLY IS... how L and L this post is. (Late and Lame.) Sorry folks, I am fresh out of clever patties this week. Let's try again next week shall we?

CLOSE UP ... I'd poke you with my unicorn horn, which I later discover to be a really huge boil and my dreams of being magic is dashed.

CLOSE UP.... you'll see that my skin is the stuff of legends and myths. Seriously. You would find it hard NOT to lick me because I look like I'm made of smooth hard candy. But then you'd back up because I'd be all whispering, "come on, lick me, you know you want to!" which would freak you the fuck out. Then later, whenever we would hang, there would be this weird awkwardness in the air that no amount of small talk can get rid of and eventually we stop talking.

So yeah, I have really good skin.

CLOSE UP.... I'm more than unreasonably scared about 2012. You can blame the History Channel's uplifting documentaries like "Nostradamus 2012," "Decoding The Past:Doomsday 2012." Rays of sunshine those guys at the History Channel. I've been waiting for God to return my calls so we can discuss this whole thing, but it's been kind of awkward between us as of late..(he got to looking close at my magical skin too and well... you've read what I do when that happens.)

CLOSE UP... you'll see my lips moving because I talk to the voices constantly. They don't like awkward silences like...ever.

CLOSE UP.... I'm almost positive that you would be able to smell the bullshit and day old pomade emanating from Shia Labeouf. I don't understand how this guy is successful in Hollywood. He's ALMOST good looking, he's ALMOST a good actor, he's ALMOST got a good body...so CLOSE and yet so far away that it's in another galaxy. Either he is really talented and I'm just crazy OR he has some kind of godlike talent agent that shits Spielberg scripts.

CLOSE UP.... my nose would probably hit your armpit. Remind me never to get too close to Shaquille O'Neal because I think we all know where my nose could hit. "Hmmm smells like boiled mushrooms... Damn Shaquille back up! I want to see where that smell is coming from!"

CLOSE UP.... you'd see that if it wasn't for the awesomeness of tweezers, my eyebrows would look like two small cats sleeping on my brow.

CLOSE UP.... isn't good when you've got halitosis. Do people KNOW when they have halitosis? From my experience, that doesn't seem to be the case. In fact, they're the FIRST motherfuckers to come up to you and start having a conversation in your mouth. And if you happen to have a drink nearby you can bet their toxic blowhole has already taken it upon themselves to have a complimentary sip.

CLOSE UP... you'll see that Jessica Alba is made of wood that's been varnished with boring.

CLOSE UP... you would discover that everything you've ever seen in an infomercial has taken up residence in my closet or garage.

CLOSE UP... the innards of the atom looks a lot like space which begs the question...what if our space is actually part of an atom which is part of some guy's mustache pores? I think you might need some funny brownies to appreciate this question I'm pondering.

CLOSE UP... you'd probably see condoms and spare change inside Mario Lopez's dimples.

CLOSE UP... is the only way I can see words and signs. Please don't let that and the fact that I'm your stereotypical Asian female driver make you in any way nervous to be my passenger, just in the off chance that one horribly unlucky day, having broken both your legs, you need a ride from me because I'm the only one left on earth. (take a breath. phew. what a run-on) Anyways, that's really probably the only time you should ever get into a vehicle with me... when there's no other options.

CLOSE UP... Jessica and Ashley Simpson smell like Joe Simpson. Obviously.

Makin Dat Paper Sure Makes My Blog Hard-On Go Away Fast

So Texas came and went, my daughter's graduation came and went and I'm sitting at my new place, right now, as I type. And yet, no blog after that very convincing spew last post that I would not go too long without posting.

My bad. I allowed my blog to get constipated again, please forgive a liar. This is quick blog poop so I don't get too backed up next time. See? I'm trying! Smelly sticker for that - even if it is a black licorice smelly sticker, I still get one right?

Don't answer that.

Pictures, video of the new I'm Not Samantha Brown Texas edition, my daughter's kindergarten graduation and all that good stuff are just waiting to be edited and posted so bear with me. Work is cockblocking all the fun stuff I'd rather get to. And this weekend was yet even more work as we spent it moving to our new house. :)

I don't know why I always trick myself into thinking I can be that person who packs a month before the move. I really thought in my heart of hearts that I would do this. You see, in my head, I'm the kind of girl who is very organized and efficient. The kind of girl who separates her outfits by color and by style. The kind of girl whose shoes are in their orginal box, put in a row with the polaroid picture of said shoe on the front. THAT type of girl. When in reality, I'm the kind of girl who seperates her outfits by pajamas and NOT pajamas, and has two pairs of shoes, flip flops and NOT flip flops. And yet, I strive to be that girl in my head and I fail miserably each and every time.

I DID not pack a month before the move obviously. In fact, I didn't even pack the week before the move. I packed when it was TIME to move. It was hell obviously, but the deed is done (except for a few odds and ends at the old place that we have to sell.) and to reward ourselves we took a dip in our new pool....

This is our hilltop view from the backyard/pool.

This be where we gets our tan on.

It's nice being in a bigger place, but I would be lying if I said that the move was a little bittersweet for me. Considering that we moved into that condo four years ago with big dreams of possibly BUYING a house around this time. I would be lying if I didn't say I felt little bit like a failure after walking out of our condo for the last time yesterday. I KNOW there was no way we could have known that the market would have taken a dump as much as it has, it was completely out of our hands and yet still...it's weird when life steers you in a whole other direction. My tendency is to definitely go with the flow and not waste my energy fighting the current, but it does take time to readjust when your original plans get temporarily derailed.

Speaking of readjusting - I could not sleep at all last night because IT WAS TOO QUIET. Yes. I'm that big of a city girl that apparently I need a ghetto bird to lull me to sleep. Yesterday I heard....crickets and nothing else! No cars, no ghetto bird, no cats yelping from sexual ecstasy, no kids that should be in bed but their parents suck so they're outside playing and making friends with the pothead next door. NONE of this was heard last night. It was just...nothing...and so I heard EVERYTHING.

The creak of the door....'who the fu...?!' *grabs nightlight and starts scanning the room*
A car's engine started veeerrrry far away ...' omg someone's in our driveway!' *get up and peek out the window holding a rolling pin.* (I know so cliche', grabbing the rolling pin, and stupid since Brad's very sharp filet knife was right next to the rolling pin)

So it went like that all night last night. This is whole 'quiet at night' - 'no neighbors within a sneeze's distance' - is weird. I know it's suppose to be nice but it just feels like I'm a kid that's lost their old blankie. Sure it's stinks, it's frayed at the edges, it's been drooled on, dragged in the dirt and so worn out you can see through it - and yet still, it was comforting to me. All those annoying little noises.

All this quiet is making my very active imagination run wild - it'll take some getting used to.

Okay I have to end this on a anticlimactic note as work awaits! I told you! Work be cockblocking like a jealous college girl who can't get a dude anymore because her reputation for spreading easier than margarine and leaving behind a trail of fire urine precedes her...

Dude. I don't know what I'm talking about. Why are you still here?! I have to work!!! Stop distracting me!

A nice hot plate of cuntwaffles. Because I can't think of a clever way to title this blog and my new favorite word is cuntwaffle. The end.

I swear upon Pamela Anderson's accordion cooch flaps that I am NOT neglecting this blog. For the past week or so I've been trying to get a vlog together because I had so much random shit to talk about that it would make for a very A.D.D. kind of post. Random commentary vomit is much better served in a visual form.

Unfortunately, my ghettofied ass decided that triple A batteries from the dollar store were just as good as the ones at the grocery store. Except I found out that no, it really isn't. I would put in a fresh pair of batteries in my tired ol' Flip camera and five minutes into taping, it would give me the 'low on battery' sign and then cut a bitch off completely mid-rant! WTF Dollar Store?! Sure they're a dollar and what the hell do I expect but it couldn't even give me 10 solid minutes to do a decent vlog?! After ruining five brilliant takes, I said screw you random packs of triple A batteries from some country that uses dots and slashes instead of letters!

-;;--;0-*_- !! <-- I really hope that means 'screw you' in their language and not 'kill the whitewash Filipino Infidel.' So, I'm over vlogging my shit for now because I'm too lazy to go to the grocery store and get a decent pack of batteries. I know. I'm pathetic but cut me a break will ya? There's a lot going on in the House of Midget. First and furthermore (I sound so Abe Lincoln when I say that out loud), the munchkin is graduating Kindergarten next week! Which means....she's in FIRST GRADE? How and why did this happen so fast? Although, truth be told I'm not too sad that she's leaving her Kinder teacher. (Crazy baton lady.) Again, great teacher but I'm going to be relieved that we no longer have to be peer pressured into attending/participating in anymore inane baton events (where we have to get into a gray Delorean, make sure the flux capacitor is working and go back in time for these events...you know, when baton was relevant...wait. was baton ever relevant??).

In any case, glad that's over. I''ll also be very happy that our parent/teacher talks, where she speaks to me as if I'm an infant, is also over. I don't know if she does this with every parent, but I really believe in my heart of hearts that she thinks I'm a teen mom. I'm not complimenting myself like, oh yeah because I look so young and shit (although my skin IS exquisite I have to say...) but I really think it's because she's a 1000 years old. She probably sees her students as wiggling amoebas.

Immediately after the munchkin graduates, that weekend to be exact, we are moving to our house!! Please note I said HOUSE, and please note that we will be renting the 20 dollar a day U-Haul because the move is LOCAL. As in, NO MISSOURI. NO MISSOURI. NO MISSOURI. I don't think I can thank Jesus De Cristo & Dios Grande enough for such a blessing. Sorry Missouri, I love to visit but that's about the extent of my love for that state. Oh and Sonic food, I love Missouri for Sonic. I USE Missouri to get to Sonic, so sick is my love for Sonic.

But before even THAT all happens, I am going to visit my BFF, sista from anotha motha, Judy in Dallas, Texas. That's right, to all you people in Texas, if on Friday there's suddenly a smell of Circus Peanuts and Fabulousness in the air, don't fret! It just means that I've arrived and your midget population has been temporarily increased by one. I'm so excited because Judy has lived there for years and this is the first time I'm visiting her. I know, I know. Bad best friend. It will be a quick little jaunt - just Friday and Saturday and I'll be returning Sunday just in time for Father's day. Short as my travels will be, I am taking this as an opportunity to film the second installment of my 'hit' travel vlog: "I'm Not Samantha Brown."

I'm seriously dedicating myself to this series. I loved making it (even though it ended up dark and kind of patethic), I loved putting it all together and I think I can do better. And I love/hate Samantha Brown so much that I don't mind being the Wal-Mart version of her.

So yes, I know I've been lagging on making new episodes as of late, but after this Dallas trip, I'm MAKING time for it. Be prepared to go with me and my 20 dollars to exotic places like this Pho' restaurant across the street (I got a buy 1 get 1 free coupon in the mail. Time to splurge!) or we'll drive across the way to this Hawaiian restaurant that serves a teriyaki beef & rice platter that's so good I have to pause between bites to allow my mouth to have its multiple orgasms. When I move east of SD, there's this fabulous liquor/convenience store on the way that's right next to a trailer park. You won't believe the 'exotic' people that frequent that establishment. Mullets, gap tooth smiles and meth withdrawal shakes galore! It'll be just like visiting Kid Rock's house!

The budget might be limited but the possibilities are endless.

More to come soon and I won't be a lazy ass and wait so long to post a blog. Either my ass will go get some real batteries to do a vlog or I'll blog the ol fashioned way, hunker down and finger bang my keyboard. This not posting a blog for weeks on end is not a good thing. It makes my soul feel backed up and constipated.

San Diego is my mother and I shall not be extracted from the comfort of her bosom!!!

Let's start off with some GREAT, FANTABULOUS NEWS! - I'm staying in California!!!! whoooo! The job outlook for the future was much better for viking hubby here than it was in Missouri; we felt it would be foolish for us to leave when he has a 40 hour a week job, a very good reputation with his company and the fact that we just found out that they are signed up to do a lot of big projects in the future. His boss has a rental house east of San Diego that he's offered to us that is a less than what we pay at our current condo. It's on top of a hill, no neighbors, three bedrooms, and...what I'm most excited about ...a wa-wa-wa-..(sorry I'm getting ferklempted) ..a washer and dryer!!! Which means...sniff...no..(hiccup)..no more digging around for quarters to get my laundry done?

Pinch me sweet baby Jesus because it feels like a dream! That is truly the sole reason why I HATE doing laundry, having to go out and get that coin! Either I have to go to Wal-Mart and get the side eye from a disgruntled Wal-Mart cashier when I ask for a roll of quarters, or I have to dig around couches, steal it from unsuspecting bums or children, or sneak into the car wash, get some change and get out of there before the owner sees me and screams "Change fo customah ONLY!"

Although, I'm going to miss living 3 miles away from the beach our consolation prize is we have a pool. And check this out, right after I found out that we got the rental and we were officially staying put for a while, I saw this in the sky:


See? Baby Jesus' daddy be giving me love from above via a heart cloud? Awww. Ain't he sweet? It's like he was all, 'Australia was a crazy idea girl, but here I'll give you this just to show that I got yo back - now shut up about it.' Okay so maybe the cloud looks more like an artichoke than anything else but even so, I wanna believe it's an an 'artichoke heart.' Maybe he's giving me love AND telling me to get a artichoke dip appetizer at Chilis to celebrate. Dual messages and what not.

Moving right along, let's see what wonderful totally irrelevant crap I've discovered/observed this past week....just two things really and then class is dismissed I promise....

You would think running three miles everyday would afford me some time to think about a lot of things, get really deep and introspective about life, maybe meditate a little, get in touch with my inner child and yell at it for being such a dork in 7th grade (and 8th, 9th, ..). So far though the only thing I've realized is I'm one of those idiots that push the walk button 50 kajillion times in hopes that the lovely walking man will pop up and allow me to cross. EVEN if I SAW the red hand just came up and I KNOW that fucker works on a timer, I will still push that button like it's a morphine drip going straight into my veins every time I press it. The only excuse I have for this is because A. the traffic light happens to be right before my home stretch and I just want to get the run over with, go home and soak neck deep in a tub of ben gay and B. I cannot COOL DOWN. I don't know if the traffic light understands that I was born in the 70s and I run a whole lot like a car from the 70s. It takes me a while to warm up and if I cool down, I basically shut off. My body thinks "oh this bullshit is over? thank god." And then it'll want to lay down right there on the curb and take a nap. That's how the ol' machinery works people and that damn traffic light just doesn't understand me but at all.

You know what multiplies faster than Octo-Mom? (wait does that joke make sense? bah! you know what I mean!) Publisher's Clearing House contest entries! I made the mistake of filling out an entry form because I'm a retard like that and the prize of winning 5,000 a month for life seemed like a great not too over the top prize. (me in two words? total idiot) And all I had to do was take this stamp and stick it to the left side of this entry, and then I take this bright sticker and put it on the envelope to show the PCH mailing crew that it's a rush entry and then oh...I get a nice offer on a box of mighty mend that I only pay 2.99 a month for? Okay, lets put that on because they say ordering something doesn't improve your chances but you know that's some booshit. I think they put the non-order entries into the shredder.

A couple days later, I had THREE entry forms come in the mail all telling me that, YES bitch we got your ENTRY! Good for you! You're SOOO CLOSE! SO CLOSE! All you need to do is open this entry up, put three little stamps on the top of this form, sign that form with blood obtained from a baby chicken and don't forget to look for a BONUS entry in the mail. THAT IS URGENT. You need to fill that out or your other entry is null and VOID! It has a red sticker on it, please take that sticker, put it up your asshole, let it marinate for a day and then put it on top of this yellow envelope. That way we know you're serious.

Meanwhile, I've ordered a mighty mend, a electric bug repellant, (you just plug it in and the bugs STAY away! I wonder if they have those for people? Hmmm.), and a curved shower bar to give the illusion that my bathtub/shower is bigger than what it is. A lot like what my Spice Girl stilts used to do for me in college.

But really guys I'm so close to winning. I'm serious. They are going to be knocking on my door any minute with that giant check (I'm going to have to ask them where I can cash that because I don't think it's not going to fit in the deposit slot at my bank.) Right now, I'm just waiting for THE final entry to come to mail, I think I have to sacrifice a goat and send them the entrails so that I can be in the running for the 500,000 dollar prize.

All right, I'm outtee ya'll. I gotta go see a man about a goat.

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.

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 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!

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.

Snots so hot.

First thing's first...if you made it through my whole Madonna video (13 minutes which in our ADD world translates into 13 hours) then congrats and thank you for sharing the moments with me. (Tug and J powered through many links just to see it. :) I'm sorry it was so long but I made that movie for Joey and I - so we can relive every moment. And come on!! How close was I??!?!? I think I went through about five pairs of pants I was so excited. So what's my next Madonna goal people? Dinner you say? Dinner with Madonna is next! Even if it means she's eating dinner at the Ivy and I'm in a nearby bush somewhere nibbling on a stale bread stick. That still counts!

But I'm somewhat sane again, coming off my Madonna high. The withdrawals weren't that bad because really, I don't think I could have had better seat than the seat I had in San Diego. Especially in L.A. where most of those seats were probably already taken by celebrities. I don't regret missing Britney (who walked on stage in a pant suit and then walked off? Um. Yay?) and I already seen Justin and his neck hair in NYC (when your adam's apple is furry, it's time to bust out the Bic shaver yo.) so no big whoop and I certainly don't regret waiting for hours to get out of Dodger stadium. Oh and that whole 'no money' thing also factored into my decision.

Okay, besides telling you the new location for my Madonna stalker blog, mums the word on Madonna for a while. I'm sure you're all sick of it.

A quick blurb on political stuff...
While I'm extremely pleased that Obama has been elected as our new President (amazing) BOO on California for voting yes on Prop H8TE. I would like to say I was shocked, but actually I wasn't. Yes On Prop h8te's propaganda was aimed at scaring parents into thinking that the school would teach our children about gay marriage (oooh. teaching tolerance. no, we can't have any of that.) And the endless signs of YES ON H8TE that practically started from my front door and were spread like a disease all over town. I just had a feeling it would sway people who were undecided. Prop 8 passing hits me especially hard, not only because I have such wonderful gay friends, and a wonderful gay cousin that this prop discriminates against, but also because it wasn't too long ago that marrying outside your race was looked upon in the same light. Had I been born in an earlier era, this would have been my fight. I can't imagine someone telling me that it's wrong or that we can't get married simply because we're not of the same race. I hope in a couple years, (sooner rather than later I hope) not allowing gays to marry will sound just as ridiculous.
In the end, it's about two people who love each other, who decide as adults that they want to build a life together and to have the same rights as other individuals who make the same decision.
It's as simple as that.

And if you don't agree, I respect your opinion; however I'm not stating my opinion on Prop h8te to ignite a debate on my blog. So save the comments against because I love to use my blog admin powers and delete shit. (I'll take a power trip anyway I get it.) And truth be told, my blog is kind of a diva and arguments hurt her ears.

In other lighter, snottier news..

I'm sick ladies and germs... Just as November rolls around and I got all into the groove on my running, I get sick! (and trust me, me and RUNNING in the same sentence is a big thing. My old rule on running was 'only when chased' - but my ever growing buddha belly has caused me to break that rule and ignore my burning shins.) Hopefully knocking myself out with Nyquil will cure me of my 10 pound, snot filled nose and achy breaky body and I can get back into my runner's high. I guess this kind of high isn't achieved by funny brownies but by putting your body over your threshold of pain that it releases endorphins to make you forget about it. And I'm doing this voluntarily?

Yay. Fun. :/

I'll be more interesting next post - I gotta go my Nyquil high on.

If Cleanliness is next to Godliness - then I'm in Purgatory.

Is it just me or does everyone's house appear to be cleaner than mine no matter how hard I try to get everything spic and span??? It seems the minute I clean it, bam, it's dirty in 3.5 seconds.
The reason for my rant is because my friend Mary and her daughter are staying with me later this month for my friend Brandie's wedding. So I wanted to get my daughter's room ready for them and use this as an excuse to clean our bedroom.

Okay, let me explain our bedroom. Our bedroom has basically become the go-to for anything we don't know where to put or crap we mean to put somewhere else once we can get the other something else that goes with it..(pictures need frames, paintings need things on the back so I can hang them, ball gag needs a strap, etc.) Even though everything is organized and put away (stacked) - it's still a pretty cluttered ass room and not exactly the dominatrix dunge ... I mean, LOVE NEST ... we wanted it to be. So with a guest coming and staying a few days, I figured this would be a perfect opportunity to get our act together.

So my plan was to start downstairs and work my way upstairs to the bedrooms. I though downstairs would be a breeze, the kitchen and the living room are usually always somewhat clean, it would take some light sweeping, vacuuming, dusting and some organizing to make it look presentable then I could really get down to the task at hand: our bedroom. After I got done cleaning downstairs...or so I thought....I took a little break and decided to get a icy cold beverage. I opened the fridge and thought, 'hmm, the inside of the fridge is looking kind of dingy, I better clean that too.' So icy beverage forgotten, I then start wiping the inside of my fridge down. It started getting hot so I climbed up on a chair to turn on the ceiling fan. (you read right...CLIMBED UP ON A CHAIR...like a 4 year old. Sad.) And while I was up there, I realized...'man this ceiling fan is dusty.' So down I climb to get my cleaning utensils and proceed to clean the ceiling fan. While I was up there - my new, normal height view allowed me to get a good panoramic view of my floor. 'How could I have missed those crumbs over there!' and 'damn is that a spider web on the corner of the ceiling?' 'Isn't there someplace better we can put the dog's giant bag of food?' 'Crap, there's a butt load of dog food around his bowl!' (um, 3 pieces of dried dog food to be exact..but the oxygen level was thin up on that chair so things started going double).

Needless to say I didn't get to the upstairs bedrooms that day, but of course, as soon as the munchkin and the viking hubby tornado get home. They managed to put a dent into my three hours worth of cleaning in five minutes.
Viking hubby makes sandwich, crumbs left on the counter along with a knife that has been bukkaked in mayo. Fabulous!
Munchkin decides she's way grown up, gets her own Capri Sun, pokes it the wrong way and oh lookee there, strawberry banana rain drops on my clean floor. Darling!

(Side note...Dear Capri Sun, can you kill the jack ass that thought putting an angled straw hole into a SOFT pouch was a good idea for a kid's drink? I swear, if I run into that genius on the street, I'm going to give him a new straw hole.)

After running around behind viking and munchkin with a sponge, a mouthful of nag, and frustration pulsating from that vein on my head, I gave up.
Screw it. What was I even thinking trying to clean a week before the guest arrives anyways? I've postponed the flight of the bumblebee cleaning until next Tuesday - the day before they arrive - and meanwhile, to avoid getting an anxiety attack over it, I've tried to 'maintain' the level of mess downstairs to a code yellow.

Which finally leads me to my original question, ....how do other people do it? I go into their houses and everything is spic and span and smells of sweet vanilla extract all the live long day. Are they like me? Is their house usually in mid to full on shambles until a guest arrives? Can I get a maid to work for me in exchange for my awesome cooking? (Toast) I don't know, give me some cleaning tips or give me a spank on the ass and tell me you're also on the same "Facade of Cleanliness" boat as I am.

Or just give me a spank on the ass and clean my house.

One girl and a cup. Of juice and/or water. The end.

I'm fasting right now and I know this laptop is going to look like a chicken fried steak come 12:30 or so. Actually it's my second day of fasting, which isn't as bad as the first day. Yesterday I was seriously ready to eat my own. The munchkin started looking like a little stay puff marshmallow that I wanted to take a bite out of. Well, I always want to take a bite out of her so I guess I can't blame the fasting on that.
You're probably asking, oh midgety, why the fast?
Why? Because I feel that if there are hungry people on this earth, then why should I have the luxury of eating?? The question should be why aren't YOU fasting you selfish selfish squirrel!!

Okay, not really.

I wish I was that profound and giving but unfortunately this is all for selfish reasons. I fast maybe once or twice a year when I feel like the ol midget mobile needs an oil change. Nothing too major sets it off, if I feel a little sluggish, my skin and hair feels all grossaroo no matter what I do (oooh rhyming!) or in general I know I've been eating like shit, I fast. I drink only liquids for about two to three days - water, this vitamin drink, V8,- specifically the Fusion kind that taste like fruit, because if you know me but at all, a tall glass of tomatoes, mushed up broccoli and other veggies is not my idea of a good time. The fast sucks, but I really do feel better afterwards, like I'm all blank canvassy and can resume to eating my usual diet of pork rinds and circus peanuts. Oh and I lost weight too. Good times.

It may or may not be a good idea since I'm just getting over a cough but I'm doing it anyways. So there! How about them apples??!?!
Mmmm. Apples.

Okay, moving along, I'm trying really hard to avoid political talk, wah wah I can't pay my bills song, and the please give me more money dance on this blog, because that's boring and whiny and we're all doing that song and dance. Although, if you happen to have extra cash laying around, I will most definitely dance for you. Don't paypal me just yet, just to let you know I'm limited to dancing of the square variety, that little two foot hop hop that the New Kids do when they sing The Right Stuff, (and now that song is in your head...NOW! bwahaha!) and of course, dropping it like it's warm.
I can't drop it like it's hot. My ass doesn't have that kind of coordination and let's be honest, my ass isn't going to drop it like it's hot since I'm so close to the ground anyways. It's looking at me lke, bitch we gotta head start, what's the rush?

No seriously, what am I talking about right now?? I'm sorry if I'm not making sense, I didn't realize circus peanut withdrawals would be this bad.

Dear Mommy Nature,

What in sticky sweaty cleavages is going on right now?!?! Are you aware that it is October? It should not be 90 degrees outside! My finger prints melted on my steering wheel yesterday. I am sans finger prints! Which normally would be an opportune time to rob Krispy Kremes, but I can't. You know why? It's TOO HOT! Please put in a phone call to Fall and tell him his ass his late.

Thank you.
Love,
Filipino Banana Pudding

mmmmm, banana pudding.

I'm off to gnaw on my calves now (where's that seasoning salt??).
OH and don't forget to check out this video....put in your order now because you know Michael Jackson is flooding up the phone lines as soon as he sees this shiz!

I'm Here. You Queer. Get Used To It.

I'm talking to no one in particular with that title except myself. I thought about doing the whole blogging break thing but the minute I do that, I want to blog! So no, screw that. I'm here. I've just had a busy couple of days. I married my friend Debi and Drew on Friday, (video vlog posts to come), I attended a bachelorette party on Saturday night for my friend Brandie, who I am also marrying later this month. (seriously, am I the "it" reverend right now or what?) and then on Sunday, I got seriously sick and I'm STILL sick and sounding all 'demi moore, bar whore' sexy. I should really go karaoke-ing when I'm sick.
I'm totally drained and just trying to get well because I have a lot more things to do this month. (a bridal shower! a cruise! a wedding!) I'll be more interesting next blog post or maybe I should just video tape my snotty, hoarse sounding self for you all to laugh at. I don't know if I could muster up enough energy to make a decent vlog though.

Anyways, I got this from fellow blogger Elizabeth because she has cool posts. She didn't tag me so as usual I am going to tag myself.
Are you all just going to sit there and watch me while I tag myself????
Perverts.

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Ten Things I Wish I Could Say to Ten Different People Right Now:

1. "How can you talk shit about him being lazy when you're daughter is kind of the same way?"

2. "If your dog starts yapping out the window at 7:00 am one more time, I'm going to go old skool Filipino and grill that fucker for my next barbecue."

3. "Thank you for not charging me for my passport photos and my overnight stamp because you were too busy flirting with me Mr. Post guy at the post office." (HA! The old midget's still got it!)

4. "I'm not yo momma fool. Go find it yourself." (clearly that was directed at viking hubby)

5. "I shouldn't have told you. I know you already knew, but still...what good did it do?"

6. "I want SWEET AND SOUR SAUCE WITH MY NUGGETS!! And yes MORE THAN ONE! Quit trying to pawn off that sad ass barbecue sauce on me."
(I hate McD's but the munchkin gets a hankering for nuggets once in a while and they're getting stingy with that sweet and sour sauce. Is it made of Tom Cruise's cancer fighting sweat? Because if that's the case, then I understand. But otherwise, grab a handful biotch!.)

7. "We can totally hang out more but stop trying to wrangle me into your pyramid schemes."

8. "Of course I'll go out on a date with you Ms. Jolie."

9. "Why yes, you can adopt me Madonna - I mean MOMMY!"

10. "Cars you can fix up and make them almost brand new again; sadly, the same can't be said about men. So please go find one that already has everything you want so you won't have to worry about "fixing" him. And please, stay away from the ones that like to share your jeans with you and wear eyeliner. Please. That's all I ask."

Nine Things about Myself (as if there are still 9 things that you guys don't know):

1. If you look closely, you can see me talking to myself.

2. I meditate when I do dishes.

3. I like to fingerpaint. Neatly. You can see where that can be a problem.

4. I'm not renewing my subscription to US Magazine because it has gotten boring and I have taken a liking to Good Housekeeping magazine. OH. My. GOD. Is this what old age feels like?????

5. I always seem to think of something funny or remember something someone said that was funny in public and then struggle to hide my laughter in because I'm gonna look crazy if I just laugh out of nowhere. But then I end up looking like I'm having some sort of shaky spasm attack. I can't win when that happens.

6. Gay guys light up my life.

7. Lately, I've been eating Honeycomb Cereal nonstop.

8. I got all goosebumpy and felt like a 12 year old again when I watched NKOTB the other night on VH1.

9. If there's an excuse for me to dress up and act stupid. I usually go full gusto. (cough Madonna concerts. cough cough...upcoming NKOTB concert...cough cough)

Eight Ways to Win My {Friendship} Heart:

1. Having a sense of humor. You don't have to be hilarious but you do have to think that I'M hilarious. Even if you're pretending. At least you're trying...;p

2. Open minded to new ideas, new experiences and introduce me to new ideas, and experiences.

3. Be brave. Be confident. (Not the ones that announce it, because if you have to announce it, you're usually just trying to convince yourself). Someone who is comfortable with themselves and in their own skin. I admire and gravitate towards people who are like that.

4. Feed the midget. You make me a good dessert and I will make you my bestest friend.

5. Just be real. Plastic's bad for the environment.

6. Karaoke with me and again, you're my bestest friend.

7. Dance silly with me in public. (For example I like to spank the air when I'm dancing..you do too? Let's be friends!!!)

8. Love the simple things in life over material things. (Please do not get into a discussion with me about those 100-200 dollar jeans that are omg! soo cute!, because I will tune right the fuck out.)

Seven Things that Cross My Mind a Lot:

1. Bills and our financial stability. The economy is shit and it's hitting us hard.

2. Sex

3. Raising of the munchkin..(am I doing this right? should I do this more? Should I do that less? Is she getting enough veggies? Fruit? Sleep? Am I playing with her enough? Am I traumatizing her? Am I doing okay? Can someone grade me on this please?!!??)

4. Daydreaming ... a lot, about a lot of stuff.

5. That I should clean the house and holy fuckballs didn't I just clean yesterday?!?!

6. How I can make a living doing what I love to do. (I haven't thought of anything...)

7. Sex.


Six Things I Do Before I Fall Asleep:

1. Brush my teeth, wash my face.

2. Check to make sure the doors are locked and the living room and kitchen is orderly. (I know. I'm sick.)

3. Make sure our bedroom door is slightly open and that the nightlight is on in the hallway in case the munchkin gets up in the middle of the night and needs anything.

4. Get into bed and THEN take off my bra. (Boobs. Gotta keep em purrky!!)

5. Have my nightly conversation with that who sees and knows all. (some people call it praying.)

6. Find just the right position where I can lay down, hold my book and not have the book light shining in viking hubs face.

6. Read until I pass out.

Five People Who Mean a Lot (in no particular order):

1. Viking hubs.

2. The munchkin

3. The Family

4. The Friends

5. My Doggy Gunter (he's People!!)

I have to group family and friends into one person because I can't just name off two or three of my family and friends. That's crazy.

Four Things I'm Wearing Right Now:

1. Just a boring black tank top

2. Blue board shorts

3. Bra

4. My essence of awesomeness. It smells minty and sweet in case you were wondering.

Three Songs/Bands/Artists I Listen to Often (JUST THREE?? oy vey.):

1. No brainer - Madonna. (there's a 24 hour radio station in Italy that plays Madonna songs all the live long day. I listen via online. God bless those Italians.)

2. Lately...hee ...NKOTB. (what? I gotta get geared up for their concert!!)

3. Pitbull (his songs just makes me want to shake my CULO! (ass)


Two Things I Want to Do Before I Die: (JUST TWO!?! Again, OY.)

1. Travel to all the places I want to go to (I have a ever growing list).

2. Do stand up comedy on amateur night. I'm such a choke artist though so this could take a couple of years (and drinks) to muster up the courage...and the material.


One Confession:

1. 90% of the time, I capitalize, use periods and use proper grammar when I text. I just cannot type 'I don't know' as IDK. It goes against every fiber of my being.

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Feel free to tag yourself...over and over again. I'll watch.

It's A Moo Point....

I saw a Friends episode where Joey was holding a giant Toblerone bar and I thought for sure that was fake or something you can only get internationally. For those of you who don't know what a Toblerone bar is, (gasp!) it's a triangle shaped chocolate bar made in Switzerland that's so delicious in its chocolately goodness, it's like a chocolate orgasm in your mouth! I have no idea what chocolate god the swiss is giving oral to, to be able to spew forth such a heavenly treat, all I know is they better not stop. It's the Angelina Jolie of chocolate is the bullet point of my presentation here.
Anyways, besides that Friends episode, I had only seen regular sized Toblerone bars until this past weekend when I walked into the Axis of Evil (Wal-Mart - McDonald's and Starbucks are the other two) the cloud of corporate monopoly and greed opened up just a tad to reveal this magical sight:


OH. My. Swiss Chocolate GOd. Did Switzerland finally tire of the oral, cut his chocolate peen off and boxed it for my enjoyment?!!
(side note, yuck, do I need my cabinets refaced or do I need my cabinets refaced?? Jeesh!)
I couldn't help myself. I bought it. And now it's in my refrigerator like some ancient relic that's too fragile to touch. I know the promise of unlimited chocolately goodness resides in that Toblerone package however, I also know the promise of a giant ass comes with it. I don't trust myself near the thing - it's as if Angelina Jolie herself was in my closet wanting to be nibbled slowly, could it be done? Probably. Could I do it? Probably not. - and so it goes for the giant Toblerone bar in my fridge, begging to be loved. But I'm afraid I would love it all at once and then we would both feel dirty afterwards.
I was thinking about having viking hubby ration it out - except he's kind of a Toblerone freak too so he would probably give me one triangle piece to his three and then a scuffle would ensue. Viking and midget throw downs are ugly and would stain the carpet so I would rather not go there. I think I might have to......(heart palpitations) ....give it away. WAAAAH!!!

In other news....

To my dear sweet credit card companies,

Unlike AIG, I don't have the federal government bailing me out of my bills (wait...where does the federal government get the money to bail out AIG? Oh that's right MY TAX DOLLARS). Excuse me, let me rephrase....

To my dear sweet credit card companies,
I'm entirely way too busy bailing out AIG to pay for my own bills at the moment. I plan on paying you. For reals though. However, calling me incessantly isn't going to make Benjamins magically secrete from my bleached asshole (I'm kidding, it's not bleached but did you know you can do that? Anal bleaching? For reals! Who's doing that? Ryan Seacrest I'm talking to you...) Anyways, back to my creditors...if your phone calls DID make money ooze out of me, then you KNOW I would be taking your phone calls DAY and NIGHT! Shoot, I'd be calling YOU so I could squeeze out a couple hundred dollars so I can go to TWO Madonna concerts! (priorties people...)

unfortunately dear credit cards, on the totem pole of necessities ...our car, our house, food, and of course, MY INTERNET...yeah, unfortunately you're last. So threatening me with letters about "ruining my credit" is a "moo point" (like a cow's opinion...it doesn't matter...Remember that Friends episode?? anyone?) because you can't ruin a credit that's already..well ruined. (special shout out to my mortgage company for taking years of fiscal responsibility and effectively flushing it down the toilet in a month. Whoot!)
Just be patient. There's too many groping hands in my pocket right now and there's no room for yours. Love you though!! Thanks for those overlimit fees btw!

I'm not whining about my financial guffaw because really it's only our cc's that we have to get out of our hair and that'll be done, hopefully, by February. So many people have it so much worse in this horrible, no so good, very bad economy. I just think it's funny that even though I told them all exactly what I just wrote down (minus the anal bleaching comment....hmm maybe I should though...) they still keep at it! You gotta admire that kind of persistence, especially when all their phone numbers have been blocked and they get to hear my sweet musical voice mail pick every day (three times a day sometimes). They must really like my voice mail. Come to think of it, they've probably morphed from being bill collectors to being my biggest fans! :)

YOU AIN'T READY FOR THIS YELLOW FEVAAH!!!

I think from now on, I'm going to title all my vlogs: SORRY.
Sorry Episode 1, Sorry Episode 2, Sorry Episode 3, and so on, because that's what they are.
Click below and witness my downward spiral and addiction to caffeine.
In this episode, I talk about why I'm vlogging, I talk about a few celebrities I can't stop thinking about, I talk about America's Next Top Model and I attempt to be funny and quote Billy Ocean and screw it all up because I went too long in between talking without taking a swig of my coffee. Also, in my next Vlog I will be inviting my Irish/Scottish cousin (who looks a lot like me) to answer any and all your love questions - the wackier and more made up, the better. So please leave a question in my comment box. Plus I need something to break the monotony of me yammering on and on and on.

So go ahead, click below and start your weekend off on the wrong foot. And for Jali who couldn't see my video last time, here's a link. ;p

So Random Its Organized.

* What in the world do they serve in the water in Brazil?? I've scouted two models in the past couple weeks that were so gorgeous to look at, it was like someone had punched me in the gut and knocked the wind out of me. The first model I was scheduled to meet with with at a Starbucks. I got there before she did and was chatting it up with a couple next to me. When the girl walked in, a big bang was heard throughout the coffee shop because all three of our jaws hit the floor in unison. She was soo beautiful and tall, I thought she was a wax figure. I sat her out in the sun for a couple minutes to see if the melting would begin, but no. She was real. Amazing.
Last week, I scheduled to meet a guy near downtown and Hillcrest and again, he was from Brazil! So gorgeous I could barely talk and ask him the "professional questions" an unbiased and cold model scout is suppose to ask.

" Nice to meet you ...can you...ah.....wait...let me look at my notes here....what's the first questio..oh NAME! What's your name?"

Sad. I think the entire male population of Hillcrest followed him out of that Starbucks like a bunch of groupies - along with a couple of their hags. (Hillcrest is a predominately gay community in San Diego). So mental note, if you want to feel like a troll who just crawled out of a sewage hole, go to Brazil. Apparently, pretty people are grown and harvested there.

* Random Olympic sports make me happy. The Trampoline? Sweet! (I think that might be my gold medal ticket. I would fly. The bad girl of Trampoline! It's a Nike commercial waiting to happen people...) Ping Pong? Badminton? Double SWEET! (I'm ASiAN ....no reason needed as to why I love ping pong. Genetics. Hello.), when dodge ball becomes an official Olympic sport, sign me up!

* My girl Shawn Johnson, who has missed gold by the narrowest of margins and because the Olympic judges are blind, deaf and dumb, biased to under aged Chinese gymnasts "lean and graceful" gymnasts as opposed to short powerhouses like Johnson. She FINALLY won gold on the beam where lean and graceful don't mean shit. YAY for short, muscular midgets with no boobs!! (who are 16 and over!!...CHINESE!!!)

* And of course, yay for Michael Phelps, 8 gold medals, greatest Olympian of all time, blah blah blah, he is an amazing swimmer, no doubt. But he confuses me with a body like DAMN and a face like WHOA.

Bottom Half: Gold Medals - Top Half: Unfortunate

* Word has it that there's a transexual male on the new season of America's Next Top Model. It's so nice to know that Tyra's willing to share the spotlight with a fellow tranny. Yay for Tyra. She's not self absorbed at all. Nope. Not one little bit. And don't you tell me different.

* Thank god for Project Runway - what can I say? THE most amazing reality show for me because people who can sew are like flying magicians who poop Toblerone chocolate bars. I swear, if someone hems my pants, I gasp and start chanting hail marys, making signs of the cross because the magic of sewing is almost witchcraftery in its awesomeness. Combine that with a woman who wants to work with LED-THUH (leather) and pronounces as I spelled it, a gay man who's a tanorexic and another gay man who speaks of himself in the third person and you have the makings of the best reality show on television. That and the fact that Heidi Klum leaves a wonderful puff of cinnamon and sugar dust every time she appears on television....which is way better than the grease and bacon bit trail that Tyra leaves.

* And for those of you who missed the video I posted of the weighlifter Janos Baranyai having a bad day at the Olympics. Here it is via photos....

Janos lifts it up the massive weight over his head.

Um, I don't think my elbow is suppose to go that way...

Call me crazy but this doesn't feel right....

CALGON TAKE ME AWAY!!!!

Okay, okay, screw Calgon, I'll settle for Chinese doctors... Oh Chinese Doctors please take me to a drug induced land where elbows are made of rubber and cheese. Thank you.

VIVA Galletas Con Malvavisco !!!!!! Just keep reading...

Just to let you know that this blog post was about 50 jillion things before I deleted it and started over. First, I was going to tell you how very sore I was from working the corner. (I KID! I KID! I would only be a sign holder if it didn't require me to work on weekends......What job were YOU thinking about Pervy McHumperson!?). No really, I'm sore from my new workout (p90x, good workout, but the teacher is pompous ass) but really, who wants another post about my inconsistent workouts? Bah. Delete.

Then I was going to tell you about the munchkin's pre-k graduation last week and how we just can't seem to vibe with most of the parents at my school. I was going to go on and on about the sea of dads who wore khakis and crocs, (plastic shoes on adults, not a good look.) the moms in their pretty dresses, perfectly coiffed hair and home baked goods. Then there was us: Dad in board shorts, flip flops, a tank and a sleeve tattoo, Mom in camo cargo pants, holding cupcakes she picked up at the local bakery and the hair, which, although combed, did not involve a curling iron, any hair products and had about 3 inches of roots showing, (holla!).
But then I got bored of that subject and deleted it. I'd rather just post a picture of pure cuteness in a homemade graduation hat holding a fake diploma:

This chick is fierce. Please recognize.

THEN I was going to write about this magical cookie made by our fine friends in Mexico. It's galletas con malvavisco or in Britney honky speak: A marshmallow cookie ya'll!!


Isn't it pretty? Four little marshmallows that sit elegantly on top of a short bread type biscuit with delicate artificially colored coconut sprinkles all over it. Delicious. This new treat is giving my favorite inappropriately named candy, Circus Peanuts, a run for its money. But midway through writing about this precious delectable jewel, I got hungry, grabbed a few and completely lost my train of thought. Then I got mad at it because those two cookies added another 20 minutes to my workout. But I won't be mad at it for long. How could you? Look at it! Soooo pretty.

THEN I was going to get all sappy ass on yo ass and talk about my upcoming 10 year wedding anniversary with viking hubby this July 4th and like omg, I can't believe we've been married so long!! Tell you how marriage takes work, and bombard you with cliche' after cliche' about patience, growing,communication, and understanding each others feelings...but I accidentally barfed on myself because my body isn't used to all that Lifetime Network bullshit. The basic rule of thumb in marriage and in life is: Don't be an asshole. You can have your moments of asshole-ness but as a whole, you shouldn't marry an asshole (this requires more than a couple months of dating, after all that humpy fucky honeymoon times have been worked out of your system and you can really see them for what they are...asshole or non-asshole) , or act like an asshole and then expect to be treated like a king/queen in return. Add a dash of laughing and sex in the mix and quite possibly it could work out. But then I'm like, okay who am I to be preaching about marriage? I mean, 10 years is long sure, but that doesn't make me an expert for chrissakes! Just wish us luck in our next 10 years okay?

Our classic wedding picture. Or should I say CLASSY wedding picture? We put the ASSY in Classy baby.

So I give up.
Have a happy hump day and enjoy the humpable pictures below:

David Beckham...mmmmm. Too bad he sounds like the missing member of Alvin and the Chipmunks.

She just got done sketching my ass and had to stop and daydream about me a bit. I love you too Angie!

Gotta love old skool Marky Mark holding his funky bunches.

Megan Fox: Angelina Lite....with stupider tattoos.

And finally, unbutton your shirt and air out your skirts, because here's the hottest betch of all time!!!

Sizzzzlinggg!! No really? Is he on fire? I don't think people are suppose to be that red.