During an online conversation with my brother, I end up mentioning Sock’em Boppers and decide to search for them, for lack of anything better to do. The search leads me to Amazon, where they kindly invite me to search for more “Novelty Amusement Toys”….I’m betting that the amusement comes more from looking at the weird crap that’s on Amazon rather than actually buying it:

• RC Granny Racers–”Grandma Edna and Betty in their hot-wheeled wheelchairs ready to race.”
• Pee and Poo Plush Dolls–”Birds do it. Bees do it. Even we do do it!” (also sold are individual keyrings if you’ve a mind to keep going after you’ve seen this)
• Bullshit Button–self-explanatory.
• Wind-Up Hopping Lederhosen–”Helmut! Your pants are dancing!”

After spot-washing my work clothes: “I can’t go to shirt with a wet work.”

…Should probably stop drinking for a couple of nights.

• I almost peed on my apron strings today. Twice.

• When I ask you something while I’m not looking at you, you can’t possibly expect that you can nod and I will hear it.

• Once I ring you up and have already taken your money, don’t search around in your purse for five minutes for that onepenny that will “even out” the change I’m supposed to give you. We have registers so I don’t have to do petty math, and I don’t like pennies any more than you do, so stop trying to pawn them off on me. Plus, it makes me look like an idiot trying to figure out that I’ve got to give you a different set of change than is already in my hand.

• I don’t know the new things on the menu any more than you do, and I don’t know what “tastes better”.

• It’s pronounced “Ba-ha”, not “Bah-Ja” or “Boo Hoo” or whatever….

• All of the bread is “the freshest we’ve got”. Fuck you.

• I constantly smell like pickles and fresh-baked bread. It’s pretty awesome.

 Just a bunch of things floating around in my head that aren’t enough to make up individual, interesting posts all by themselves.

1. I’m sick of this “I pick and eat boogers” shit that keeps leading people here. I did, however, have a friend who ate them. When we were six. Grow up. They might be salty, but so are peanuts.

2. The spellcheck just told me I spelled “boogers” wrong.  Also, spellcheck.

3. Words to say over and over again that turn to mush in your mouth after about 18 tries include: fetus, macadamia, hip, tootsie, and wicker. I can’t really prove that, I’m just pulling that number out of my ass. Maybe I can get some searches for “fetus” going as well.

4. Conversations not to have with your brother if you are female:
(Paraphrased for convenience)
    Bro: I woke up at 4:30 this morning to a girl I know fucking this dude not 6 feet away from me.
Me: WTF.   
Bro: Yea. It pissed me off. I had to listen to that shit for two hours. Finally I just said ‘fuck it’ and got up, took some shots of Everclear, and passed back out.   
Me: Two hours?…

5. I thought for sure I was going to overflow the toilet this morning.

6. Questions I’ve asked myself since I woke up:

• Where did my left hand go? (It fell asleep.)
• My man has bright green boxers. (Not a question, but I did ask myself why I thought of it; indirectly it counts. )
• Why do I still have that piglet-in-a-Santa-hat Christmas card still stuck on the fridge?
• Do I look good naked? (No.)
• Why do I ask myself dumbass questions?

7.This post sucks.

Baby Born in Mom’s Pants

If you don’t feel like reading the whole thing, a) no big deal, but b) you’re fucking lazy. It’s like three paragraphs. But I’ll sum it up anyways–there’s only one important line:

“‘I didn’t know what happened until he was in my pant leg.’”

This begs so many questions, for example:

• Was she a large woman?
• What kind of pants was she wearing that a 5-something pound baby could get into one of the legs?
• Wouldn’t you feel something like that come out? I mean, it is your vagina. And last but certainly not least:
• What the FUCK?

I woke Jon up screaming with laughter, startling the both of us. One of those things that just strikes you in a special place and the giggles start bubbling up uncontrollably. I had to wait 10 minutes before attempting to read past that point.

Needless to say this brightened up my morning tremendously. Mostly in a “you’re gross” kind of way.

 Usually every Wednesday we go to the soon-to-be in-laws and have dinner. Yesterday my ’second mama’ “wasn’t feeling well”….I’ll bet you anything it was diarrhea.
I need my home-cooked dinner once a week, dammit. I don’t care whose home it comes from, as long as it’s not from my apartment–dinner here consists of pulling frozen veggie burgers out of the freezer and then sticking them in the oven for 20 minutes. I like to pretend it’s gourmet, because I used the “conventional oven” instructions instead of the microwave ones. I’m a bit delusional.

I woke up this morning to cloudy skies that made me want to put my head in between a door and a wall and just slam the door repeatedly. I hate clouds that much. Unless they’re the puffy cotton candy-looking ones. Those make me feel fuzzy inside. These aren’t those. These make me want to punch babies.
To make it worse, in the few hours I’ve been awake, it’s gotten darker. Who’s manning the controls up there? I’ve got news for you. Sunrise doesn’t work that way, assface. You can’t go backwards like that. I hate you. Stop raining. I hate you.

I don’t even feel like functioning today. Most of the time there’s no reason to wake up, but my bladder has different ideas so I can’t get back to sleep once I’m awake. I don’t think that’s in my contract.  Fuck it. I’m going to play a vegetable today in my own homemade play. Just sitting and staring into nothing, and maybe pissing myself on occasion. I don’t answer to my kidneys. Screw them.

Today just might be great.

Yes, I’m asking for it.

Can’t wait till he gets home!

I’m compiling the list of search engine terms after that last little gem. Here you can see the absurdity that is the human race.

You sons of bitches are pretty sick, you know?….

Yes, I do realize my hypocrisy.

…I am so looking forward to getting more like this. It makes me tingle, somewhere near the butthole.

I checked my Blog Stats just this minute (measly and pathetic though they are) and scrolled down to see if anyone found it by way of a search engine. Just curious, as always.
They did.

The term that brought them to my page:

“pick and eat your boogers real picturs”

Glorious, isn’t it?

I read it, read it again, and then yet a third time, just to be sure. It was still there. And I’m still not quite sure whether to laugh or weep.

Miss me?

Sure you did. Fucking liar.

Mostly the well ran dry. Also I figure I’d give you a break from reading this nonsensical bullshit and giving yourself a headache.

But now I’m back. For the moment. So Uh-oh all over you.

Things have been quite quiet here, sitting in my little chair (it swivels!–yea, so what?). So I started to make a list of things to do to occupy any downtime I’ve got, between scrubbing dishes and blackening my lungs.

-Sift through the latest bag of garbage and play “What’s That Horrific Smell?”. Try to match the scent with the item. Surprisingly, sometimes it smells sweet. Right now, however, it’s lightly buttered popcorn. And ass.
-Take out the garbage. After finding out which part smells like dead butt.
-Draw on myself with a Sharpie.
-Draw on everything with a Sharpie.
-Say different words out loud repeatedly until they lose their meaning.
-Try to kiss my own ass.
-Seriously. Take out the trash.

In other news, tomorrow is the Big Two-One for Jonathan, So I probably won’t be “here” (on this plane of existence) for the entire weekend. I have a feeling I’m going to end up somewhere idiotic. Like under the dining room table. Probably introducing the underside to a Sharpie, despite the table not belonging to us. I’ll leave a message for the next tenants. Like “How ya doin’?”…or a penis. Because they’re funny when drawn no matter what you say.