Ouch.

This poor girl is having a hell of a pregnancy. I admire her for being honest. For the rest of us, it's free birth control to feed that gnawing urge... Me, I'm giving all my money to homosapien marsupial pouch research -- have a manageable-sized baby crawl out and crawl right into an Easy-Bake pouch. Plan it right and you don't even have to be awake for it. Wouldn't that be swell? A big shout out goes up to Adam and Eve for screwing up the gestation process. Oh, who's really to blame? I'm sure I'd have eaten the apple, too. And maybe even the snake...

Why not! Everything tastes like chicken! So even though it's probably an old joke, I guess chicken tastes just like snake, rabbit, squirrel, frog legs, and possum. Okay. I've eaten frog legs and alligator unknowns. And I'm working on making my own cabernet. If I go blind for less than 4 hours, then we'll know we got just the right pinch of secret ingredient this time.

Go to the "Drink" section; it's got the best stuff. My hypothesis: Delicacies seem to be born during times of widespread famine. Check out the prison punch known as Pruno here. Not as good as Champipple, but it'll have to do... dog.

Man, I could really use some good charma with a diamond in it. Look at all of it. It's times like this I wish I'd knocked over that liquor store like we'd planned, right Michael?

So Michael just moved into my old office and found only two of the three, evil curses I left:

"Your office is actually pretty comfortable. I forgot about the evil silver clip lamp, plugged it in, and it tripped a breaker or something and shut down everything in my office. I then threw the lamp away. Then, I was putting some magazines on a tall bookshelf that I moved into the office, and the giant yard rooster that you gave me fell from the top shelf and pecked me on the head. It drew blood. I was angry. The rooster is no longer with us. (sorry, it was a nice gift, and I enjoyed it, but it was time for him to die after attacking me thusly.)

So I guess that was the extent of the curses."

One more to go, poor Michael. That's how I kill my prey, you know, in curses of three. I'm really sorry the plastic chicken fell on your head and pecked it. I bet that's first time you've ever been injured by a big fake plastic cock.

I am so sorry you had to read that. No, really. This is supposed to be a family show, and look at me. I'm Graham Norton all of a sudden. I'm just in a bad mood because Sandra Bernhardt showed up as a guest and ate up all of my earthworms.

It all started with "raccoon feces" and went downhill from there, didn't it?

Very cool: cabanonpress.com

Ooo, and here's some of that happiness I've heard so much about. Very, very cool.



Today's aphorism, and another useless tagline from the past.

"A roach at someone else's table is just as effective as a Dexatrim."

and

"Calgon. Take me away."



And finally: Totally useless things I have noticed about myself today.

In the most unladylike fashion, I noticed I've started placing my fists together in front of me like a boxer, crushing them together to crack my knuckles.

My nails have grown long for no reason that I can think of really. I noticed this as I cracked my knuckles like a boxer.

My hair is becoming unruly and animated as the day wears on.

Which as a rational adult, I can only wonder: Is it the oppresive humidity, or is it a full moon? And why am I craving rabbit's blood?

You really wouldn't believe me if I told you how many people Google here looking for raccoon feces, flexy girl pee holes, and hemmorhoids. Which brings me to the question: Is there some strange connection between the three?


Don't forget, Friday is Bring Your Dog to Work Day. I tell you these things because I care, remember? I can't bring Otis to work until they have Bring Your Livestock to Work Day.

Popped in the eye with love...

But he's Rick James, bitch...

Two boobs, one year...

Wouldn't it be cheaper to toss something calming in the water supply?

Rats. I had my money on the blonde twin...double-or-nothing the redhead goes to rehab...

Boy, I must be in a really bad mood today, huh? Maybe I can apply for some of that Government Beer...



Tonight: Super Size Me

Tomorrow: vegetarianism

Today's aphorism and another useless tagline:

"The longer you wait, the more you hafta go."

and

"Freshen-Up. The gum that goes 'squirt'."


Here are some recently and overly-decently finds for you.

Numbero One: Found by automusik because they played a show with them: The Mattoid. I figuratively can't describe this, don't make me. Alls I know is it makes me happy in a happy I can understand and assimiliate as easily as Zweiback toast. Whatever the hell is Zweiback toast is. I'll find you some audio links. No, really. You need The Mattoid's happiness.

Numberos Two: Maybe you listened to NPR's "American Life" on Sunday. Me, I've never heard of it before, but as we plowed back up I-55 from my parents house, basically, I dun found my peeples now.

There they were, broadcasted between the religious fanatic and a country-western tragedy. As a kid, I stopped biting my nails. Although I could have, quite easily, I never really developed anything more accute than my obsession with tidying up around the world. At the beach last weekend, they nicknamed me "The Folder. If I had a cape, I'd press it and fold it neatly. If something is out of place, I will see it. Oh Dear God, please help me, I will see it. But it's good to know that other people besides me can't help picking up found objects and notes -- foundmagazine.com. Heard about them on the show.

Being that I spend roughly one-fourth of my life at estate sales, I see these photos and tapes and videos that will most likely be trashed. And since I have actually felt sorry for a large rock before, I feel sorry for discarded memories. So I took this slide of a mother and a Beaver Cleaver-type boy out of a coffee can, just lying in the bottom, looking up hopefully from the depths of nothing more than recyclable steel. Since I do that myself somedays.

So I was tempted to ask someone, "So how much for the slide?" But I figured I'd get The Look. You never really get used to The Look. It's similar to the look of someone digging out a bi-centennial quarter out of their ear and asking five bucks for it. So nevermind. My honesty would've been mistaken for stupidity, and since no family member thought much about the slide, I figured I would.

Yeah. I don't take things that don't belong to me. But I regret not taking this photo I found in a pile of garbage. It was a little girl dressed as a fairy ballerina with those spindly legs, circa 1930-something. She had blonde curly hair and sparkling eyes smiling out forever like tomorrow was the best thing in the entire Good Ship universe. I wish I'd have brought that picture home with me.

Look around, see what you find, and send it in. We need to know these things.

Talk about havin' your prison cake and eatin' it, too...

"The final meal request of John Blackwelder, Florida, May 26, 2004.

Blackwelder had a pizza with cheese, onions, green peppers, ground beef and mushrooms; a salad with lettuce, tomatoes, green peppers, cheese and ranch dressing with a coke.

Mr. Blackwelder then received a 24-hour stay from the governor.

The stay was lifted and he was not given a second last meal."

Stolen without permission from deadmaneating.com. The devil made me do it, Joe. Forgive me.

Fascinating reading. They even have a store here and read all about the requests
here.

Yeah, I've always wondered what I'd have for my last meal on death row. Quite possibly, a knuckle sandwich. Most likely, sushi and fried chicken. Ooo, and birthday cake with that thick, cheap icing that coats your teeth with a thin film of Crisco. You can't have wine, huh? Fine then, I'd rather be dead anyway.

Mmmm-mm...by the looks of some menus these guys cooked up, clearly, a few callings were missed. Some of these guys were good enough to cater a White House fundraiser.

I have no imagination. "Sushi and fried chicken." Another reason to stay off death row.

I want this.

Actually, I want one of it all at wishingfish.com. I'm such a consumer.

Oh speaking of that (dot dot dot)

"Product Review, Product Review!"

Coke's newest addition to the litter: C2

2/3rds regular Coke + 1/3rd Diet Coke = not bad

I think I like it! Now, let's see how it withstands the Bacardi Rum Test...

Jacquie's DongFest 2004: That thing had a hemi.

One more day at the beach, and I was ready to stay and airbrush t-shirts for a living. This is a quality group of *bitches*. Even though Karen was always hittin' on me. Yeah I'm in this picture. Circle the monkie. I tried to crop out most of the penis pinata since this is a family show. For the most part.

A recap from Jacquie:

"yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaAY!
number one: i miss the beach (and the bitches) already.
number two: i peed in the hot tub.
number three: nobody puked, nobody cried: woo hooo! go girls.
number four: thanks to all ya'll for coming and making this my best ever and only ever bachelorette partieeeeeeeeeeeeee.
number five: (see pictures below)

love
el brideto "

I couldn't agree more.

Now it's back to the daily grind. Mmmmmmm... griiiinnnnds. Back to heating up my Astronaut Soup (aka Cup-o-Noodles) Back to the dowager's computer slouch...

Did crunches this morning as the dog laid his big anvil head on my hip...

ohhhmmmmm...

then i ate some grits and some tortilla chips after I thought "hey, tortilla chips are sorta flat baked grits anyhow"...

ohhhmmmmm...

watered the yarden this morning and picked up a dead bird. life is good...

ohhhmmmm mmmman, I'm already tired again.



But I have a "Product Review, Product Review":

Best Sunscreens Ever...




Neutrogena Spray-On and Coppertone Endless Summer Ultrasheer. For those fishbellies who don't want to fry like an egg, break out like a gangly teen, or smell like a big bass pro-fisherman, then try either one of these or both. I'm the Princess and the Pea about everything, especially nasty stinky sticky sunscreens. So if I say hells yeah* then you better go get some and apply liberally. Just in time for that Unfortunate Global Warming Vanishing Atmosphere, too. Why do I post these things when all anyone really Googled for is some free porn? Because you know, for some reason, I really, really care. Like a great big damn. All over the place. With hemis. No, really. No, I'm serious. Really really really.

*Ok, maybe it's good I didn't stay one more day.

Bye, Michael Stoolhead!

Since you are the diligent reader through all the worms and products reviews thick and thin, I dedicate this picture of Nut-sak (alias Admiral T. Bagger) to you. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do. I like to take this picture out every now and then and thank God I'm not an insufferable jackass too cheap to hire a model or a photographer to take a picture for a client.

"Or (laying his finger coyly against the bridge of his nose and winking), to have thought of taking the picture to send to the client in the first place." What a sly ole dog. "When you've been in the ad business as long as some people, you'll be a Master Brainstormer such as I, my friend," he booms as if you were really listening or really his friend.

The beard makes him tolerable. Let us gauge our success at the site of this Mightiest of Pocket-Poolers. Let us behold what a career in advertising can do for the mighty and the few. Learn well, my son. Learn well of who not to be*.

*Jibberish. As if you didn't know already.

Aloha until Monday.

This is killing me. It's on NPR, that's my browser home page for now. So I keep seeing it everytime I open a new window. Maybe you didn't know anything about Reagan except the whole jellybeans thing. Or maybe you get violent stomach cramps at the mention of his name. Maybe you are absolutely indifferent and think politics are a stinking pile of mud good for nothing but slinging. For five seconds, it doesn't matter what any human thinks. Basically, all I see is someone's husband and father replaced with loneliness. I can only imagine the last ten years they had for about ten seconds before I crack. Human suffering and loss override opinion for at least one frame of a moment. If it doesn't, then it should.

Unless of course, this was a photo of Nicole Richie's funeral. Then I'd download it for my desktop pattern.


More comic relief in the form of puppies and candy:



Today's aphorism, and another useless tagline from the past.

"Say what you will about pain, a basket full of puppies saves the day."

and

"It takes a licking and keeps on ticking."


I stole this photo from here because these puppies are just too soft and fuzzy and puppy-smell cute. I love puppies tiny teeth and toenails. Awww. I like it when they dream about running and barking in their sleep. Go look at more cute pictures, there are a bunch. Black Labs are what Otis would look like if he had legs. Awww.

I would find a picture of a Hershey's Special Dark Chocolate with Almonds, but really, I'm too freaking lazy. And maybe Hershey's is, too, because I sure can't find one on their site. But hey, my point is that they are good. And they must be good for you since they are dark chocolate plus almonds. I've been reading a lot about nuts these days, and about how good they are for you. Oh just pretend you care and are listening to me. I know when I'm boring. But doesn't it make you feel better that I am trying to find a justifiably good piece of candy for you?

Great. Now I want this cocoa mulch for my wormy garden. Did I tell you that I went in search of a pint of redworms to toss liberally in my yarden*? Oh come on, you care, you know you do.

*yarden: (n) yeahr'-dun -- a yard so small that all you have room for is a small garden, as in "I put redworms in my yarden so it would grow big fat roses that'll make the gay neighbor across the street envious since his manicured yard pressured me into forking over $200 for a new tree."

Did I mention that I'm going to the beach in two days? Just in time, too, since all I can think about it worms, huh? Yes, we're abducting Jacquie for her bachelorette party. We haven't decided what to call the affair yet, and I can't say too much about it in the off chance that Jacquie is reading this, but let's just say Ron has named it Dong-a-Palooza.

I'll take pictures.

It sure feels like a Monday.

Here's a cool link (thanks, Fishjack!) to get your mind offa it: kiddofspeed Very interesting. I read it like I read my magazines: Backwards. And with radiation. Fascinating.

Today's aphorism, and another useless tagline from the past.

"Nothing will make you forget what you were saying quicker than seeing a three-legged dog."

and

"Strong enough for a man yet made for a woman."


Adkins Diet? South Beach Diet? The Anna Nicole Cocaine, Elephant Sedatives and TrimSpa Diet? It's really tough to choose the right diet plan these days. Lo carb or no carb, I've got another one just for you. It's called the X-Ray Diet.

First we'll start with an x-ray of your abdomen and show you exactly where all those cheese-topped bacon and porkskin sandwiches (no bread, please) are residing in your colon. Then you get to keep the x-ray and hang it on your fridge. If you still want to eat anything solid after that, aww go on, treat yourself. You're possibly a lost cause and therefore, go onnnnnn, you can have it. Just say no to drugs and bread.

I saw the inside of my insides today via x-ray technology. And let me tell you, it's hard to talk straight with a doctor when you're both basking in the glow of your bra underwires on an x-ray. I tried not to laugh, and grabbed my mouth instead, as if I were truly engulfed in my own bag of entrails. "Mmm hmmmm...Is that a tumor? Is that broccoli? Is this comparison why I will never be able to look at broccoli again? Is that a tumor? Is that thing swollen? It's not a swollen tumor, is it?"

At that point, I wish I'd had a bullet lodged somewhere in my ribcage just to shift the focus away from any details.

It all went better than expected since I always expect to be told I had eaten five pounds of nickels, dimes, buttons and needles in my sleep. That would have been true entertainment. But no. So as I was leaving, feeling compelled as always to say something witty at the end of each departure (do I have to tell you it usually comes out useless), I pulled the door closed behind me and said to the my doctor as he was pulling down my x-rays in the hall, "Thanks again. X-rays are neat."

Then I get that familiar look and smile. I think it's called pity.