I shall once again reference Doug...

I'm outtaaa heeeeere!

Blogger, you have pissed me off too many times.

My blog can now be found at www.facedown.wordpress.com

Conversations with my bro, yo - part 12,546

Are all siblings as ridiculous when talking to each other as me and my brother are? I mean, what is it about talking to a sibling that makes it okay to be totally stupid?

I realize this is a lame conversation. But I think the end makes it worth it. OCCASIONALLY, my brother can be funny. Don't tell him I said that.

Is it weird that all of our conversations are via the internet?


Boy
Hello

JR
hi
I am sick.

Boy
Why are you sick?

JR
Because I don't eat right. Or some bullshit like that. I have a cold.
But I feel like I am dying.

Boy
You are not dying.

JR
I could be dying! You don't know me!

Boy
People don't die from colds. This is the future.

JR
Ah, but I have super duper cold derived from beer and watching One Dumb Horror Movie and One Good Horror Movie in the same week.

Boy
Ooooh... Those are rough. The only cure for that is Lord of the Rings. Or Eddie Izzard.

JR
Maybe some Eddie.

JR
DO NOT GO SEE PULSE.

Boy
Never heard of it.

JR
DO go see The Descent.

Boy
Never heard of that either. {he proceeded to check out the website}

JR
Really? It's a gore fest.

Boy
I think I would like it as a video game.
I don't like watching monsters that I can't kill.

JR
Oh. Well don't go see it then.
I mostly only like horror movies. And ghost movies, they don't make enough ghost movies.

Boy
You should play Doom 3. It has the same feel as that movie. Only you can shoot the monsters.

JR
I don't play video games though.

Boy
It makes you feel like a big man.

JR
Ah, penis games.
What kind of fast food is good if you are sick?

Boy
Taco Bell.
its the least poisonous.

JR
Did mom tell you about the Alton Brown thing in Hawthorne?

Boy
Yeah.
Remember my friend Ron who drove you to Disneyland?

JR
Hm. I never get taco bell anymore. Probably been years since I was there.
Yes.

Boy
He just got Jason Stratham to star in the movie he wrote.

JR
Who is that?

Boy
Jason Statham. The guy in Crank.

JR
Oh. The man's man.

Boy
Yeah.
He was also in the Transporter movies.
And other stuff with yelling and guns

JR
That's the movie where he's gonna die that day and he kills a bunch of people first and makes out with the girl from Felicity, right?

Boy
Yeah.

JR
the puppy is staring at me with sad eyes.
Sad pink eyes.

Boy
Pull the pink out of her eyes?
How come your dog is always sick?
And your cats are always fat?
And your fish are always dead?

JR
Because that is just how we roll.
MY FISH ARE NOT DEAD.
I have had the same fish for a long time now.

Boy
Dude. You've killed more fish than most hammerhead sharks.

JR
Not true.

Boy
Yes true. I have a shark right here and he thinks you're crazy.

JR
Whatever. Like having a shark there doesn't make you crazy.

Boy
Look, what I do with my bathtub in my spare time is none of your business. The point is, I make a lot of money and it keeps the whalers happy.

I text message A LOT

I just had this conversation with MoMo via the greatness of text messaging*:

Me - not. healthy. possibly dying. it was nice knowing you.

Momo - is your cold worse?

Me - yes. i see a tunnel with a bright light at the end... yeah right, like that's what i'll see when i die.

Momo - do you smell something burning?

Me - ah! that's not a bright beautiful light! it's a bonfire!

Momo - a nice warm fire to greet you. is it just the cold or worse?

This is when the conversation dissolved into me whining. You don't need to hear that.**

Point is, I am sick. How does one get a cold this bad in August? It's been over 100 degrees every G-D day for months!

I'm going to blow my brains out through my nose some more. Sorry about the lame post.




*I do not like talking on the phone. If you have something to tell me, please text it. I am much more likely to respond.

**I truely need to just shut the hell up. One of my friends has strep throat so bad she had to go to the hospital! I am such a whiner.

Giving herself a good beating

It's a shame this video doesn't have sound, because the "thwack" noises this makes when it hits her are really the best part. It's a toy that she loves - a long tennis ball type thing on a rope. She does this everyday, grabs the rope and throws the thing around her body. And my body. And any other bodies that happen to be near.

Keep your fingers crossed that she never hits the TV.

Please disregard the messy house.

And also, let's note that if someone would buy me a video camera I could do much more entertaining videos...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AaG65FLHbY4

The Next Big Thing

I'm sure everyone has already done this with their friends. But the other night Jack & Amy were visiting, and there was a big group of us at a bar* thinking of all the different kinds of movies we could make that would be like Snakes On A Plane.

It started out just trying to match up animals with modes of transportation, but then turned into the Alliteration Olympics.

• Rats on a Train
• Lizards on a Raft
• Moths on a Vespa
• Bees in a Car (this one actually elicited gasps and grimaces - "Please, seriously, bees in your car are SCARY.")
• Alligators on Ice Skates (I'm not sure that fits the genre, but I like it.)
• Oysters in a Hot Air Balloon (Oh! Pearls in the Air!)
• Weasels on a Helicopter
• Spiders on a Ship
• Gorillas on a Gondola
• Zebras on a Zambonie OR Zebras in a Zeppelin
• Beetles on a Bungie Cord (Do you think we were drinking?)
• Cats in a Cab
• Ants on the Amtrak (Don't be scared, Clare!)
• Bullweivels on a Boat
• Termites in a Treehouse (Not a mode of transportation, but still scary.)
• Gerbils on a Dirigible

And of course, as previously mentioned in my comments, Rabbits on a Space Shuttle Manned By Cabbage Patch Kids.

Coleslaw, anyone?

*Duh.

A week of conversations with Fletcher*

F - "You know how our beef is all grass fed and locally grown?"

JR - "Yeah..."

F - "Well, I was reading a thing about Competitors Restaurant, and it said their beef is grass fed and from Uruguay!"

JR - "Why would you get beef shipped from there when we have the same thing here?"

F - "Who knows."

JR - "Besides, how can you trust it? If you can't go check the farm, they could be feeding those cows ANYTHING, and just telling you it's grass fed!"

F - "That is so true. You totally can't trust Uruguay. Those people will lie about anything."

JR - "Nothing good can come from Uruguay, mark my words."

F - "Now Paraguay, there's a trustworthy country."

JR - "Definitely. I would totally trust Paraguay with my meat."

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New Girl - "Is our fish boneless?"

JR & Fletcher - "Yes."

NG - "Um, ok, I'll go tell my table."

JR - "Wait, New Girl! We mean that they remove the bones after they catch it, not that it's an actual boneless fish."

NG - "OH! I get it. Okay, thanks."

F - "I am so glad you clarified that for her."

JR - "Amen, sister."

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{Sheila bends down to get something out of the fridge behind Fletcher}

F - "Sheila! What did you just do?!?!?"

S - "I just got the cream out."

F {to me} - "I swear, Sheila just licked my butt."

JR - "Well, you know, it's the end of the night..."

F - "I know! My butt's all sweaty!"

JR - "She loves her some sweaty butt. Sheila always gets all lickeybutt at the end of the night." {It should be noted that I shook my head quickly back and forth when I said lickeybutt.**}

F - "Lickeybutt... You're right. Sheila is very lickeybutt."



*Fletcher is the friend I mention in my sidebar that I went to NYC with last year. Best. Time. Ever.

**It is very hard for me to get across to you how funny the lickeybutt conversation was. I really think maybe you had to be there. Or maybe you just have to know Sheila.

Mark just has the music in him

"My pink eyed girl... You my pink eyed girl... Do you remember when we used to sing, Woofwoofwoofwoofwoof woofwoofwoofwoofwoofwoofweewoof...Just like that..."

BTW, Sammie has pink eye.

Of course.

I Heart Broccoli

Last night we were all sitting around at work waiting for our tips, looking through the paper and chatting. We're doing this big fundraiser thing all week and we're a million times more busy than we normally are in August, so we're all tip pooling the whole week. Which means everybody waits for everyone else to be done before we get paid.

We were bored, some of us may or may not have been grumpy, and we were all delirious from exhaustion. This week has already beat us down and it's not even half over.

There were 6 people involved in this conversation, so I think listing who said what would just make things more confusing.

"Why is it taking so long for him to get our money?"

"He's probably in the bathroom again."

"Oh my god, he's in there so much! It takes him five hours everytime and he goes four times a day!"

"That can't be normal. There's gotta be something wrong in his colon."

"Ew!"

"Maybe it's normal for guys. Let's ask Patrick."

{Patrick looks up from the paper} "Huh? What?"

"DO NOT ask Patrick! How embarrassing! Plus, that's like, sexual harassment."

"It's not sexual, it's like... poop harassment."

"What?"

"Nevermind, Patrick."

"You guys want to know what the seniors are eating this week?"*

"What do you mean?"

"Meals on Wheels. They publish their weekly menu here in the food section. Let's see... Oh, Thursday looks like crap."

"What they got?"

"Turkey ham... whatever that means. Salad, seasoned cauliflower, and for dessert, orange slices."

"That's disgusting."

"I wonder what it's seasoned with?"

"Oh, Tuesday looks good. Salisbury steak, salad, broccoli, and a choice of a chocolate chip cookie OR graham crackers!"

"Man, that's crap. They should give them a cookie one day and graham crackers the other day instead of stupid orange slices."

"For real."

"Dude, they get broccoli or cauliflower EVERY DAY."

"It's good for you. Cleanses your colon."

"SHEILA!!!! CAN WE PLEASE HAVE ONE CONVERSATION THAT DOESN'T INCLUDE THE WORD COLON?!?!?!?!"



*That was me bringing up the Senior Menu. You can imagine how fascinating it must be to be my friend. I bring such riveting conversation to the table.

I am learning to use YouTube

Here is an incredibly boring video of Sammie. I threw her Hurl A Heifer, she got and then washed it. It's a new hobby of hers, washing her toys. And yes, that is a lawn full of dead grass, because I'll be damned if I'm gonna waste water and money trying to keep it alive when it's 104 degrees outside.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vYAulnp5jIE

The Dog Ate My Computer

Sammie has taken to chewing through electrical cords. I think she likes the shock it gives her. She's an electricity junkie. As I mentioned before, she chewed through the cord for the window AC unit in our bedroom, then she chewed through a cord for one of our lamps, and then two days ago she chewed through the cord for my laptop.

So I have all this stuff to post about, but not much time before my battery dies. I can still use the cord to recharge Ella*, but it sparks a little bit so I can only do it if I am watching.

So I'll tell you one quick story then I'm out of here.

The other day I was looking at baby names on the internet (NOT PREGNANT JUST LOOKING AT NAMES). I really like old names, especially for girls.

I was also making poor Mark talk about names with me.

"What do you think of the name Georgianna?"

"For a dog or a cat?"

"For a human person!"

"Um, I don't think so."

"Why not? I like it. I had a Cabbage Patch doll named Georgianna. She was so cute, her tongue stuck out the side of her mouth like this AHHHHH."

"Was she retarded? 'Cause that looks retarded."

"No, she was an ASTRONAUT, thankyouverymuch. She had a helmet and everything."

"A helmet?"

"Yes."

"Hm.... Are you sure she didn't have the helmet on for her own safety and her parents just told her she was an Astronaut?"

"MY CABBAGE PATCH DOLL WAS NOT RETARDED! She was an Astronaut! ASTRONAUT!!!"




*My laptop.

Liar McLiarson

I caved.

I just put another coat of paint on the laundry room walls.

IT WILL NEVER END.

Maybe that's just how he rolls

I was just driving home from lunch with the Wonderful Chrissy, and I saw an old man driving.

He was driving very slowly.

He was weaving from side-to-side.

He had his windows rolled down, and it is very literally 103 degrees today. And it was a new car, so the chances of the AC not working are slim.

And when I pulled next to him, I saw that not only was he too short to see over the steering wheel, he also was wearing a bright red trucker hat, ala Ashton Kutcher, pulled down over his eyes.

And then I looked at his hands.

His hands people, his hands.

He was wearing gardening gloves. One hot pink, the other yellow with flowers.

I really need to start carrying my camera around with me.

How drunk can you possibly be at 2 pm on a Thursday? Drunk enough to say, "Hey, it's a nice day, I'm gonna go for a drive. But I better wear my wife's gardening gloves so I don't get too chilly out there."

At least I have this blog to take it out on. I used to yell at the fish.

Why does Blogger sometimes post things twice? Just because it wants to make me look stupid?

Also, I finally painted the laundry room. We had bought this sand texture stuff, you mix it into the paint and Insta-Texture! So easy! Anyone can do it!

Yeah.

Except it's crap. It's too thick to put on the walls well, and it leaves some areas with lots of sand texture, and some with barely any. So the walls look like shit.

But I give up. I'm not painting that freaking room again. It's just the g-d laundry room. Let's face it, I try to spend as little time in there as possible. So tomorrow I am putting up the baseboards and the fancy new cabinet and FUCK IT I'M DONE.

You may think I have anger issues right now. You would be correct.

I stubbed my toes twice today and I'm tired and hungry and I hate my laundry room. And earlier today I watched the series finale of Felicity that I had tivo'd, and that episode always pisses me off no matter how many times I see it. I think I keep watching hoping it will be different.

My point is, my laundry room is ugly, Felicity should have been with Noel, and I am pissy. Leave me alone.

On second thought, don't leave me alone. Get me a beer.

Please.

The Sammie Post. Because really, how long do you people think I can go without talking about my dog?

Good thing I washed all those towels. What else could Sammie possibly sleep on? Certainly not one of her three beds. Dog beds are for suckers!

This morning I couldn't let Sammie be outside because the neighbors were out with their dogs, and she thinks that means it's Bark-A-Palooza 2006. So she found the one window in the house that was getting sun, and somehow squeezed her way to be in front of it. There's a triangle of space in front of the window that you can't get to because of the end table and the cooler cart. But she managed to find a way in. For a big dog (64 lbs. now!) she's really very bend-y and acrobatic.

We just got home from the vet's office. I took her in for a check-up on her mange, and YAY! It's all gone! But now she's has Hematoma's* on her stomach and a urinary tract infection.

{heavy sigh}

She's lucky she's so gosh darn cute.


*Hematoma: a localized collection of blood that has been forced out of a vessel and is usually clotted, in an organ, space or tissue.

Let's see if I can get a picture... Which will officially make this the grossest blog entry ever... Okay, they look bigger in the picture then they really are. They are each about the size of my thumbnail, IRL. Look at you own risk, and don't say I didn't warn you...

Yay! Mark is home!

I was just looking up Great Dane breeders online, and looking at the pictures of all the puppies. We aren't looking for another one, I just like looking at them.

Me: "Oh! Look at this little one! It looks just like Sammie! Wow! Well... I guess that one eye is different, not as black around it. But her back is the same... except she doesn't have quite the same coloring on her butt. It looks a lot like her... It's nose is different though..."

Mark: (from the next room) "It's a chihuahua, isn't it?"
-------------------------------------------

While I was typing this, I asked Mark how to spell 'chihuahua' and he corrected me, because I though it was 'chihauhau.' I said, "Oh, it's h-U-a."

And he mumbled, "Hydraulics and Utility Actuation..."

"What?"

"That's what it means to me... Freaking job sends those... {mumble mumble}"

Seriously, I have no idea what the man does for a living. But it sounds FASCINATING.
--------------------------------------------

Now he just told me that he's getting cold because his belly surface area is too large and he's losing heat through it too rapidly. If that's how it works, I should have hypothermia by now.

From Missing Mark to Crazy Mullet Peg Leg Man

What if somebody read my blog, figured out where I live, figured out which house is mine, and broke in during the night just to kill me?

Well, it wouldn't ever happen. I could probably locate a crazy person, hand them a piece of paper with my address and sleeping hours on it, and they would say, "Why would I come to your house?"

But just in case, I haven't mentioned on here that my wonderful, sweet, handsome husband has been out of town for the last nine days and I MISS HIM. He is finally coming home tonight and I am so happy I could just spit.*

And not just cause I love him and all that crap. But because THIS DOG IS DRIVING ME INSANE.

Before we got the puppy, we (read: Mark) read a bunch of puppy books. Actually he's so cute that he'd been reading puppy books for months, before we even knew we were getting the Amazing Sammie from Poopville, because he knew I wanted to eventually get a dog and he wanted to be ready.** These books all told us that puppies go through a phase where they "lose their minds." Apparently it happens between the ages of 4 months to 8 months and lasts for about 30 days. I thought that was stupid. Can't be true. Whatever.

Then our trainer told us the same thing. My reaction was the same.

Then, and I can pinpoint the time exactly, Monday at 3:30, my dog lost her mind. She just STOPPED HAVING A BRAIN. Stopped coming when I call her. Stopped understanding any of the commands that she knows - Leave It, Take It, Wait... all gone. We went to obedience class on Tuesday night, and she wouldn't do anything. I would tell her to sit, I would show her the treat, I did everything that usually works, and she just stood there.

Sammie, if you're reading this, that was not cool, dog. Mommy was embarrassed.

But the trainer was cool about it, she just flat out told me, "Sammie has lost her mind. She will be back in a month or so." She also told me to try my hardest to train through the mind losing month, because apparently Sammie will come out the other side all the better for it. What she didn't mention is how having a puppy that has lost her mind makes for a JayAre that has lost her mind. Mark is desperately needed to stop the hair pulling, cheek-chewing and sobbing.

Another problem is my schedule - I work nights 3 or 4 times a week. Normally this is fine, because I put Sammie in her crate at 4:30, and then Mark comes home at 7:30 and takes her out back to play until she sleeps. But with Mark gone, Sammie stays in her crate until I get home, usually sometime between 10 and, oh, midnight. By then, all she wants to do in the entire world is run in circles, and occasionally bark. So I end up sitting out back with her***, watching her run in circles and chew up toys, until she gets tired and we can go to bed. I do not like this schedule very much. I desperately need Mark to come home and save me from HOURS spent in the backyard, in the dark, thinking that any minute a crazy person will come through my fence and kill me.

Oh, I should share with you why I worry about crazy people in my yard.

Once upon a time my friend Momo was over, and when she went to leave I walked her out to her car. As we were standing in my driveway, a man wearing some kind of 80's rock band t-shirt, denim shorts, with a mullet, and a peg leg (ok, a regular fake leg, but still), walked out from the side of my house. He had to have been coming from my backyard, as that is the only thing you can do on that side of the house. The neighbors have a solid fence up with no gate, and back then we just had an opening to the backyard. He just walked by us and down the street, like it was no big thing. Momo and I looked at each other, she ran to her car, I ran in my house, and we promptly called each other. Just after we started the "WTF!" conversation, Momo spotted a woman with a bad perm coming out from the side of my house. At this point I am freaking out and checking locks. But the woman also just went down the street.

After that day I started paying attention to my backyard a little more. And that mullet dude, he used it all the time! I saw him three more times cutting though our backyard! I can't even imagine how many times I didn't see him. Now, I kinda feel like I should let him, because from this neighborhood it is the fastest way to the main road, and he does have the peg leg, but dude, it's my yard! He also has to cut through the field of the guy behind me, but that guy is old and crazy too, so I doubt he cares.

So, eventually Mark and I decided we had had enough, so we built a gate for the side of the house. Now instead of two fence posts and an opening, there's a nice little gate someone would have to open. I thought surely that this would deter the peg leg mullet man from cutting through our yard.

It didn't. I have only seen him once more since then, and actually I saw him walking through my yard while I was driving down the main road past my house, coming home. I really need some pictures to illustrate how all this is possible. Basically, the back of our house faces the main street, with a field in between. You go down the main street, turn right twice, and then you get to the front of our house. Make sense? Anyway, by the time I got home he was gone.

So one night after Mark had left, I was out back watching the Amazing Sammie chew on a bone (fascinating!), when the gate rattled and she started barking and I started... well, shaking. It was probably just the wind, no one came through, but it scared me nonetheless. Now, I realize that if crazy mullet peg leg man wanted to kill me, he has had amble opportunity, what with the sneaking through the yard while I nap mid-day. But the idea of him back there while I'm back there still creeps me out.

So I went to Lowe's on Sunday and bought a padlock for the gate.

Now I kinda feel bad, cause his poor peg leg self has to walk all the way around to get to the street. But, the puppy has been barking less, so that makes me feel better.

And that is the story of why I can't wait for Mark to come home. It's convoluted, but true.

I thought about going to take pictures of my yard and fence, but then I remembered we desperately need to mow, so nevermind. Maybe I will see if I have any old pictures.


*I have SO been in Texas to long. Oh crap! Now my stalker will know which state I'm in!

**Mark had never had a pet before me (not that I am a pet, but that I bring pets). Well, that's not true. He had a strictly outdoor cat. But never an indoor pet and never a dog. SO FUNNY when we first got married and all the sudden there were three cats in his house.

***The back of our yard has mock-fencing - there's some chain link strung over some bars, but it's only strung on the top, so the bottom flaps open. The dog, or anyone, can walk right through it, essentially. So anytime she is out back, we have to be out back.

Should out back be one word? Outback? Like the restaurant? I just don't know.

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I found some pictures, but BLOGGER SUCKS MY ASS and won't let my post them right now. I am so going to swtich to WordPress.

The Udder of The Cow

Check out how lame I am:

I carry a tiny spiral notebook around with when I'm at work. For months when I would I hear things, or be involved in conversations, I would think they would make great "snippets" for this blog. But I could never remember them. So I started carrying the notebook around to jot things down in.

In my defense, it is a pretty cute notebook - it's blue and orange and says "I got your mom's digits" on the cover. Cause, you know, that's how I roll.

And don't doubt it. I DO have your mom's digits.

Anyway, for a while now I've been jotting stuff down in there, but I never seem to get around to posting any of them. So now I've decided to do one giant, annoying, somewhat boring-if-you-weren't-there post with all the snippets.

So here we go. Read at your own risk.
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(Brittany is telling a story about eating out with her boyfriend - Brit is white and he is black.) "I couldn't decide if I wanted dessert, and I actually said to the waiter, 'Well, I'm gonna have chocolate now or I'm gonna have chocolate later...'"

--------------------------------

JR, "Yeah, so this website said the song that was #1 the day I turned 18 was something by Celine Dion. That's supposed to be my life theme! That sucks!"

Tyrone, "I wonder what my life theme song is."

Chrissy, "Tub Thumping."

Tyrone, "Yeah, that sounds about right."

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Once Chrissy and I had a conversation regarding mating her Yorkie with my Dane. I can't possibly relate all of it here, but I will say it involved phrases like, "Well, if we held up his back legs..." And "What if he got sucked into the Gi-gina?!?!?!"*

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"I smell popcorn."

"They made some in the back."

"And it's not for me?"

"No."

"Well, that's fucked up! I'm fucking hungry!"

"Um, I think it's for the kid in the bar."

"Oh. Now I feel bad." (Not so bad that she didn't stare longingly at the kid while it ate the popcorn.)

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"What are you going to major in?"

"Anthropology."

"OH! Have you ever been in that store? I love that place!" (Sometimes it all becomes clear to me why we are waiters.)

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"Those people were not good tippers."

"I think they're docents at the museum."

"Well, docents can't tip for shit!"

"They work for charity."

"They should give me charity! I got costs!"

----------------------------------------------------

A woman told me that the ice cream I served her was the "udder of the cow." I have no idea what that means, but she ate it all.

----------------------------------------------------

Overheard in the drink pick-up window - "Oh wait! Can you put some olive juice in that martini? I didn't put it in that way cause he said 'Just a tad dirty' and I don't have time for that kind of bullshit."

--------------------------------------------------

This woman had ordered some lemons and a straw from me, but on my way back to the table I dropped the straw. So I said, right to her face, "Here's the lemons but I dropped the straw so I'll have to go back and get you another one.. She said, "Great..." Then she paused for a moment, stared blankly at me, and said, "Um, can I get a straw?"

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Okay, this one is a bit longer. I was waiting on a table of the trashiest people ever. They were so obnoxious it was hard for me to keep the smile on my face. The dad was rude to me the whole night, but the worst came when I delivered his crabcakes.

Man: "Do these come with green soap?"

Me: "Huh?"

Man: "Green soap!"

Me: "I don't know what you mean. But let me get you another drink." I turn and walk away, and notice him motioning to another server, Sheila, to come over. When I get back to the table Sheila is standing there smiling, but looking uncomfortable.

Me: "What's up?"

Sheila leans over and whispers to me, "Green soap is what you use when you have genital crabs!"

I look at the man. "It's interesting you would know that, sir."

Man: "That's why I can't believe you don't know!"

Bastard.

On that same night, the guy at the table next to him, who was out with his wife, grabbed my ass. Actually, he patted my back and then worked his way down. Classy. When I was telling Boss about that in the back, he told me I should spend $90 on a fancy g-string and make me some money. I told him, "Dude, I'm a big girl. I'd have to spend $180."

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And my favorite random quote of all - "I'm surprised my armpits glands didn't die!"

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Most of these things seemed much funnier when they were happening then they do now that I see them in print. But I have nothing else to blog about right now, so I'm posting this anyway. Sorry.

*Gi-gina is the nickname we gave to the Amazing Sammie From Poopville's private area. Because it is GIant.

Happy 25th Birthday, Baby Brother!

Today I called my brother to chat and tell him happy birthday, and we had what I think was a fairly humorous conversation. So give to you, my three readers, Conversations With My Bro, Yo, Part 3 (or 4?).

Bro: I've been up since 5:15 when YOUR stupid father called me.

Me: Dude, you broke his computer.

Bro: I did not. The internet just needed time to process.

Me: Whatever. You broke it, take some responsibility, you're old now.

Bro: I'm eating brownies. I made them.

Me: SPECIAL brownies? Or regular brownies?

Bro: Huh?

Me: You know, SPECIAL brownies, or just, you know, brownies.

Bro: Special brownies?

Me: Oh my god. Brownies with MAR-I-JA-WANA in them.*

Bro: Oh. No, they are regular brownies. Although there are a lot of them, I made two boxes.

Me: That's a lot of brownies. But, it is your birthday. So you're having them for lunch?

Bro: And breakfast. Actually, I've had so many now they might be special and I just don't remember.

Me: You're like, "Did I put pot in these? Who knows, I'm hungry! More brownies!" Which I think is kinda the point of special brownies.

Bro: Do you watch Project Runway?

Me: No. Once I watched Next Top Model and Tyra Banks yelled at someone. It was funny.

Bro: I don't watch that. But Project Runway isn't so bad, they aren't as fake as all the other reality shows.

Me: I like Hell's Kitchen. That guy is so fake, it cracks me up.

Bro: I hate that show. Anyway, you know my friend Leslie? She got dumped by this asshole and so one day me and Samantha and Jessica were over there to help, and we ended up watching four straight hours of Project Runway.

Me: Dude, I bet you wished you had special brownies then.

Bro: If ever I did, it was then.


*I know this isn't the correct spelling, but that's how I said it.

Strike While The... Bug Is Close. Drowning is humane all the sudden?

Recently, She Walks did a post about the funny little paragraphs you find at the bottom of spam email. I hadn't paid too much attention to it before, but man, they put some weird stuff down there. I decided to copy all the strange writings I could collect for one week and see if I could create some sort of logical writing.

I am too lazy to work on that. So instead, I am posting them in the order in which they were received. I seperated them with different fonts because it's not always clear where one ends and a new one begins...

He will sleep the better, she said. Bethuel-will you lead theway?The guard raised her spear in a quick salute, then marched resolutely
question. You will leave behind a deadly and destructive situation.What must we do? Vesta asked. Palm of my hand.First you will help me by permitting myself and my associates to
Half a loaf is better than none. God gives every bird its food, but does not always drop it into the nest True love is like a teardrop in Niagra falls He is always right who suspects that he makes mistakes
away from me. At first I thought I could get some reform here byworking through channels. Its not good enough. I am being blockedjust as completely as you are.
Time heals all wounds. Keep your friends close but your enemies closer None but the wearer knows where the shoe pinches
And a good day to you as well, I said. My name is Jim.A masculine surname, most agreeable. I am called Hingst and it is mypleasure to greet you-
variegate legend milan beaujolais chow contingent bandbox sowbelly bauhaus clergy diva ardently arch-enemy egoist anchorite gorgeous
of groups with that name. We are the only ones who deserve it since weare the only ones who survive.Survivalists, Floyd said, and went on as though reading from a
The darkness faded and light returned. Iron John was gone, thechamber was empty. I looked at Floyd who seemed just as bewildered asI was.
know the key is there. Inside . . .Teddy, I said.Teddy. Not a real bear. Teddies are for children and you are no
intercourse is not quite the right word. Cultural Relationshipsmight express it better. My degrees are in archeology and culturalanthropology, which is what attracted me to the civil service in the
alone will be responsible for your own execution. Now isnt that quitehumane?Drowning is humane all of a sudden?
willis tater gable ostrich raoul loan deluge onlook dischargee quicken inlet sunk equivoke kulak lattice postpone
some cover it's strategy be earl the surcease try phrasemake in indecent some elizabeth on weaken ! cofactor not boylston on cataclysm , jeffersonian may manage , perspective
instead of my jaw for a change.While we had been installing the MIPSCs we had been going over andover all of the possibilities, had returned always to the only viable
Where the carcass is, there shall the eagles be gathered together Seldom seen, soon forgotten A heart at peace gives life to the body, but envy rots the bones.
Strike while the.. bug is close. The devil find work for idle hands to do
mothers pillow-and steal it.But in a society without women you cant have a mother -so the mythhas to be rewritten?
Shame face ah feel like cent ice. A problem shared is a problem halved.She crieth in the chief place of concourse, in the openings of the gates: in the city she uttereth her words, saying.
No Good Building Without a Good Foundation Barking dogs seldom bite

Puppies and Headaches

Earlier this morning:

I sleep soundly.

{Feeling a cold nose on my arm}

"Oh, hello Sammie! Is it time to get up? Ooookkkkaaay..... {insert old lady grunting here as I sit up} Well, you sure were a good girl this morning. I can't believe you let me sleep so late! What a sweet puppy... I love you... {insert lots of petting here} Okay you good girl, lets go outside... {old lady grunting as I stand up} Alright, let's go... Wait, what's that? Is that...? MY iPOD?!?!?! WHY IS MY iPOD ON THE FLOOR, DOG?!?!?!?! AND WHERE IS IT'S CUTE PINK CASE?!?!?!?! Ohmygodmypooripod... Oh, here's the case, under the bed... Where are the headphone? Oh, by the nightstand! Jesus, Sammie, you chewed through them! Good lord. I can't believe you tricked me into thinking you were good. I will never trust you again."

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It does look like the iPod will still work, but the headphones are a lost cause.

Last week she chewed through the window unit A/C* cord while it was running, and somehow managed to not die. And now I am hot when I sleep. Crazy dog.

Oh, and let's not even talk about the quail bones she dug out of the trash while I was vacuuming. Or the unbelievable stress that caused me while I was at work that night, certain that she was home coughing up leg bones and pooping out wings.

I don't know why people say puppies are a lot of work. They're totally low maintenance.


*We do have central A/C, but having the window unit in the bedroom saves energy since we both like it really cold when we sleep.

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Have ya'll seen the "Head On" commercial? I don't know if it's just local or not. It's for some kind of medicine that you rub on your head. The whole commercial is a picture of someone rubbing it on, and a woman saying, "Head On. Apply directly to the forehead. Head on. Apply directly to the forehead. Head on. Apply directly to the forehead."

I do not appreciate her tone.

Every time I see it I want to smash the giant TV into tiny little pieces and then call the makers of Head On (apply directly to the forehead) and tell them that I am going to hunt them down and apply my foot directly to their asses.