Two Blogs and a Dumbass

Extra, Extra Read All About It

Just in case you need a few more blogs to read, I have a couple to suggest. The first is a travelouge of my brother-in-law and sister-in-law's year-long RV adventure across North America. One year. In an RV. I expect that each post might be a little more terse than the previous one. The Adventures of Chipper and Crab.

The next is The Northwest Arkansas Crime Report. Yeah, you can read about all the people that live around me who are a few peas shy of a casserole. The blog owner hasn't been updating very regularly lately (more bran, NWA Crime Report blog person), but it's still entertaining to read the older posts.

Stupid is as Supid Does. And Boy, Does This Guy do Stupid.

An unamed 49 y/o man was arrested for a bank robbery attempt. First of all, you guys know I hate having unamed people on my blog, so we're going to call this guy, Fredrico Umberton Carl Kevin Wilhite Ivan Thompson. Oh what the hell, let's make him Fredrico Umberton Carl Kevin Wilhite Ivan Thompson III. Fuckwit III for short.

Here are a few mistakes that Fuckwit III made while attempting to rob a bank.

1. Failed to notice the police cruiser sitting outside the bank. The police cruiser he walked by to enter the bank. Yeah, that police cruiser...sitting right outside the very same bank he was going to rob.

2. Failed to notice the police officer IN UNIFORM standing behind the counter inside the bank he was going to rob.

3. Upon speaking to the officer in uniform about his intentions to rob the bank, failed to notice that he was talking to a police officer in fucking uniform.

4. Failed to notice that when the officer asked him that if he knew that he could be arrested and imprisoned for such shenanigans that the officer he was talking to was...surprise...still in uniform.

5. And finally, his biggest mistake was that he tried to rob a bank while there was a police officer in uniform standing inside the bank he was trying to rob.

I'd like to give this story a happy ending. Like, Fuckwit III was just playing a practical joke and a bunch of the officer's friends jumped out from behind the potted plants in the lobby and they all shared a great, big, communal guffaw over it, then went and grabbed a few brewskis.

But, sadly that was not the case. Fuckwit III was arrested. But, at least he had a good reason for attempting to rob a bank with a uniformed police officer inside of it. He said he needed the money because his drug dealers were waiting outside for him and that if he didn't give them the money, they were going to kill him.

I would have never guessed that Fuckwit III was a user.

Just so you know I'm not making this up...here is the linkage.

Take Care,
Babs

Let's Get Ready to Rumble.

Desperately Seeking

It's that time again, kids. Another list of strange searches that have somehow led people to Flumadiddle Land.

• Jesus saves wallpaper - That Jesus is such a packrat. Seriously, he saves everything...wallpaper, hair from the sink drain, the plastic ring thingy from the milk jug. I think he's using the stuff to build a Jesus android in his basement. A really creepy Jesus android.



• Describe my husband's penis - I'm going to go with a one-word description: Hamsteresque.

• Crucifixion with nails BDSM - Christ on a stick! Are you kidding me? I knew there were some people with a few extra kink genes, but seriously. Crucifixion? Um. OUCH! I'll bet these people use something like "Jesus Christ, that fucking hurts" for their safe word.



• Saggy knees, Mothernature - Mothernature is a dirty, dirty whore.



• Are dead squirrels dangerous? -Um hello? Zombie squirrels! Haven't you heard of zombie squirrels? You know all those unexplained shin maimings you read about in the paper? Zombie squirrels. They're like totally mean little bastards.



• Video of boar copulating - Okay. I know my memory isn't what it used to be, but have I ever posted a video of swine mating? 'Cause I don't remember that, and I'm pretty sure that would be something that would stick in my mind.

Nooner, Anyone?

Since I obviously talk about penises a lot on here, I would be remiss in passing up this story. And I can't go around being remiss. It's so unattractive.

Bostonians driving down Route 1 were in for a treat yesterday.

Instead of the usual boring "Construction ahead" or "Caution. Men Working" sign, they were greeted with something a little more to do with "southbound traffic".

Someone, who I'm pretty sure had to be around 15 or so, hacked into the computer program and changed the sign to read, "Penis for Lunch."

And really, what better lunch can you have than penis with a side salad?

Church Sign O' the Week

"This Sunday. Are you ready to rumble?"

Oh Church Sign Guy! I knew you were a wrestling fan. I just knew it. But who is doing the rumbling? Do you have tag-team preachers, or do you just let the congregation beat the shit outta the organist? On a side note, is it just me or do the words organist and pianist both sound a little dirty?

By the way, my beloved sign guy, I wouldn't watch wrestling for anything. In fact, I'd watch re-runs of Walker, Texas Ranger, until my eyes were bleeding before I'd watch wrestling. Hell, I'd watch The 700 Club before I'd watch wrestling. But I don't want you to think for one minute that this teensy-tiny difference between us will dampen my love for you, Church Sign Guy.

Oh no. You rock me harder than a Hanson concert.

Take Care,

The Bablatrice - who thinks Zombie Squirrels would make for a totally wicked band name.

Don't Look Now, But There's an Angel Peeing on You.

What's That up in the Sky?

Well, according to Pastor Glenn Fulton and his wife Linda, it's not a bird, a plane or Superman. It's one of god's little helpers. It's an angel! Have a look see for yourself.

Well. I personally couldn't say what an angel looks like seeing how I've never been introduced to one, but I think the image looks more like the Grinch or Mr. Mistoffelees.

Anyway, the good pastor Fulton stated that this was proof that god existed! Holy cloud faces, Batman! That's absolutely brilliant. All it takes to prove there's a god is a few cloud bits and pieces that have arranged to form a face. Well, praise Jesus and pass the biscuits. I'm glad that whole god thing has been settled.

A Cuppa Tea Pee Fixes Everything

Are your sinuses clogged? Bothered by pesky allergies? Suffer from alligator skin? Cancer? Leprosy? Well, have I got the cure for you. Well, actually Liz Gray, has the cure for you. What's the miracle cure? Your very own urine. Pee-pee. Wizz. Piss. Liz swears that when she started using her own urine in her Neti pot, her allergies were cured! And you won't find anyone calling Liz "Lizard Lady". There's nary a spot of dry skin on her body. You know why? Because she rubs pee all over her skin. Her own pee. On her skin. The woman rubs her own urine on her skin. In fact, Liz has even started drinking her own pee because it's said to cure all manner of illness.

I'll be Liz smells a lot like....well...pee. And I'm wondering if she drinks her pee warm or does she ice it down. Maybe she adds a little yogurt and makes a Piss Punch Smoothie. Yummy!

I'm all for using natural cures and beauty stuff and such, but I draw the line at using my own pee. There's a reason it comes OUT of my body. And I'm a firm believer that if anything comes out of your body, it should stay out. Unless it's your spleen or something. It should probably be tucked back into place.

Just Because Fwig Asked

http://ramurie.jukeboxalive.com/ You have to make sure your pop-up blocker is off, should you have one. And don't mind the crappy recording. I'm sure it sounds much worse in person.

Take Care,
Babs

Barhoppers Unite

My sister came over this weekend from the remote Arkansas location that she calls home. It's even more redneckish than where I was previously calling home (bumfuck). It's so bad that one of the country clubs in her fine hometown is in a barn. I'm so not making that up. My sister decided that we needed to go down to Dickson Street and go to the bars. Well first of all, I'm not a bar hopping kinda girl. It's just not my thing. I rarely drink. I can't dance. I'm usually in bed by 10:00.

I am so completely out of control. And I'm a wanton hussy.

Anyway, we dressed to go out. I even wore eyeshadow for fuck's sake.

See how I kinda have that "what the hell am I doing look" on my face? I'm pretty sure I maintained that most of the night. I'm also pretty sure that even though my sister and I are supposed to have the same father, there's no way we really do. The only resemblance between us is that we both have girl parts.

When we arrived at the Street of Strong Drink and Sin and started checking out all the bars, we soon realized that we were almost twice as old as most of the people there. Actually, my sister is twice as old as some of them. I still have a few more years to go. But, she's like old and stuff. So whenever we went into a bar, I felt like our table was the geriatric section. In fact, when we were in line to get into one of the bars, the bouncer was checking the IDs of the kids in front of us. But when he saw us, I swear I heard him giggle a little bit, roll his eyes, then just wave us through. If he hadn't been the size of a 3-bedroom house I would have poked him in the eye. Hard.

But the highlight of the evening was that there were "preachers" on the street corners. They had posters and everything. Hand-lettered posters, even. And one was screaming (the preachers not the posters) about how we were all fornicators and adulterers and other amusing nouns. And as hard as I tried, I couldn't help but start laughing when he screamed out fornicators. I mean, it's a funny word to me. One of the posters had something about modesty being godly on it, but I'll bet the guy holding it was checking out every pair of boobies that walked past.

To end the night we stopped at IHOP where we were lovingly assaulted the entire time by our waiter. His name was Bruno. Bruno was tenacious. At one point, Bruno even pulled up a chair and sat at the table with us. Then Bruno tried telling us he was "Bruno, like the guy in the Popeye cartoons." And when I informed the genius that it was BLUTO not BRUNO, he had the audacity to argue with me, and I must say that when he whipped out the argument that he knew it was Bruno because he watched Cartoon Network every night, I was quite flabbergasted. I mean how could I argue with that. I almost succumbed to his power of persuasion, but then I remembered that I was right and he was annoying.

I think the next time my sister comes for a visit, we should just say fuck it and go down to the Senior Center and play bingo. At least we won't be the oldest ones there.

Take Care,

Babs - Party Animal Supreme.