Saturday, April 25, 2009
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Another one is the Cricut Expression, a scrapbookey spin-off tchoch that's fun for the whole family. Admittedly, this one bugs the shit out of me.
What happened to Ron Poppeil, you know, the infomercial daddy who coined the phrase "But, wait, there's more"?
Here's one I love -- Really, it's the dame I love, never the products, always the sales peeps and their handy-dandy-ever-so-shocked-side-kicks, the Turbo Cooker.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Thursday, April 16, 2009
As we've discussed a blog is one part confessional, right? Right.
Today, I was reminded of the ultimate shamevent, I was with my ma and we were at the Farmer's Market buying produce, minding our own business when I happened upon my ex.
He didn't see me -- I saw him -- which was MORE than enough to make me run -- like a virgin towards the starting quarterback. I flew through the market. My ma, is, of course, fast on her feet and didn't need me to explain anything, she just followed. PS: That's love.
So terrified he would see me, I made my way into the back of the market and dove into a dumpster. Yes, I know that's disgusting. Whatevs, a girl does what a girl has to do.
A few minutes later, I could hear my mother laughing her ass off while leaning against the dumpster, so I peeked my head out of the top. Through tears, she said to me, "What the fuck is wrong with you, child?" I whispered, "I saw my ex, he was buying avocados. Remember he used to call them avo's? I hated that."
She looks to her left, sees him, whispers, "Duck", and slams the cover of the dumpster shut. She hid behind the dumpster.
Do you believe the shame?
Ten minutes later, she came out from behind the dumpster and made sure all was clear before helping me out of the can.
Oy vey, the lengths I will go to, to avoid this ex... don't ask.
Oh, before I forget, thank you sooo much for the birthday wishes. My birthday was February 7th. Like the latetard that I am, I didn't get around to posting my GIFTIES until, oh the shame of it, April 5th. Do you believe?! I know, I'm such a cuntarell. Oy, forgive me gift givers.
What kind of a schmuck do you have to be to dive into a polar bear enclosure at a zoo? How completely fucktardian are you?! I'm just grateful the PB's weren't injured.
Polar bear mauls woman at zoo, wouldn't you if some asshole came into your house?
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Menses just commenced. It's 1:14 AM. I was asleep. That felt good. At 12:24, I popped up. I think I'm awake, maybe awakeish is more accurate.
I'm always surprised when those handy-soapy-foamy-bottles run out of soap. For some lame ass reason, it never occurs to me that they ever will. They feel so lifetime supply, even though the bottles aren't more than 8 inches tall. Similarly, when I flip on a light switch and the light flickers to its death, I think "Now what?" Duh, schmuckette, you change the fucking light bulb. Intellectually, I know this, yet for some odd reason, it never comes to mind.
In fact, a few years ago, my mother walked into my house and said, "Why aren't the lights working?" I said "I don't know, I flick the switch and they don't work." After a fit of uproarious laughter, she said, "Would it kill you to change the light bulb?” Hmmm. "No", I shamefully responded. I wonder why... it is that I have a block against certain tasks. I can be absentminded, but not about the big stuff, I don't think.
It's 4:30 AM. I started writing this post 3 hours ago. I ran to the store. One of the stock daddies had beautiful tattoos covering the length of his arms. I asked him, "Do your tattoos tell a story?" He winced, glaring at me as if I was from Fucktardville. Fuck me for thinking a labyrinth of gorgeous tattoos spun a yarn, what an assjockey I must be for not realizing that a man's arms covered in tatts could be so fucking random.
My stomach hurts something awful at the minee.
I walked away from my lappytoppy for 5-minutes and had a fabalicious idea that I completely forgot. Why? I didn’t write it down. These days if I don’t write things down, they are MIA like Stayin' Alive.
PS: I have been trying to get online to finish this post for almost an hour. Now, I’m irked.
My stomach hurts something awful at the minee.
I need to drink more H2o.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
The Founding Story:
Below is a letter that has been circulating with a great idea. The message began in silent prayer from a faithful follower who was spending quiet time with God.
Dear Friends and Intercessors:
This afternoon I was praying about a number of things, and my mind began to wander. I was deeply distressed at the symbolic actions that President Obama took as he began his presidency. Namely, that he signed executive orders releasing funds to pay for abortions, permission to fund embryonic stem cell research, and federal funding for contraception. I have been involved in the pro-life movement for nearly 20 years, and it pained my heart to see a man and a political party committed to the shedding of innocent blood. This man, and this party lead our country, but they do not represent me or the 54% of Americans who believe that abortion is wrong and should no longer be legal.
As I was praying, I believe that God gave me an interesting idea. Out in the garage I have a box of red envelopes. Like the powerful image of the red LIFE tape, an empty red envelope will send a message to Barack Obama that there is moral outrage in this country over this issue. It will be quiet, but clear.
Here is what I would like you to do:
Get a red envelope. You can buy them at Kinkos, or at party supply stores. On the front, address it to:
We have reason to believe the return address is important, please include it.
President Barack Obama
On the back, write the following message.
This envelope represents one child who died in abortion. It is empty because that life was unable to offer anything to the world. LIFE begins at conception.
Put it in the mail and send it. Then send this website to every one of your friends who you think would send one too. I wish we could send 50 million red envelopes, one for every child who died before having a a chance to live. Maybe it will change the heart of the president, our senators, and/or our representatives.
Warmly, Christ Otto
Let's Send 50 Million red envelopes (and Counting) for all of the children killed in the US by abortion!"
Sunday, April 05, 2009
FJ makes the coolest gem earrings, necklaces and quirky/dark jewels I've seen in ages. She's such a talent. You must check out her jewels and treat yourself to one of her pieces.
Saturday, April 04, 2009
This week had a theme, a pretty straightforward one too: "Katie, Wilma Fingerdo", laced with syphilis, oozing herpes sores, attached to a gnome wearing a trollee-esq mask when you least expect it, EVERY FUCKING DAY?!
I met with optadaddy on Monday to discuss my lady balls. While I appreciate his enthusiasm for Graves' ophthalmology because really, if a doctor has a raging hard on for something that's ailing you, s/he's the DR you want. Right? Right.
I'm in the chair. Between us is the peeper machine that scopes your balls. While he's fondling mine with said machine, he's going on and on and on about his latest study with rabbits and rats and their peepers popping. Again, I appreciate his enthusiasm, but do I really need the deets?
I said, "My sister had a rabbit named Clovis", thinking this would ignite the, oh-I've-said-too-much-gene, and make him stop. On the contrary, he didn't. After the fondlefest, I said, "Ya know, DRB, I really don't want to break-up with you because you are the Graves' Optha daddy of doom. However, the image of sacrificed animals is nauseating, depressing and way more than I can handle. You've crossed a boundary."
Do you know what he said? "I'm authoring a paper for (I can't remember the name) medical journal all about it."
Seriously?! I have NOTHING to say and EVERYTHING to talk.
Everyone was so far up my ass this week, did I ask for a free colonoscopy? No, I did not. No matter what I said or did, it was wrong. A ginormy week of misunderstandings. Don't you love when people say, "I'm listening."? Really? You are? Than why the fuck can't you hear me?!
The upside is that my surname isn't Humpdick. I'm healthy and the week will be officially over tomorrow.
PS: Wilma Fingerdo is a dragalicious diva.