Just wanted to say thank you to all of your for the emails and messages. Yes, I made it back from vacation and we had an awesome time. Seriously awesome. I kissed a dolphin. Did you hear me people. I KISSED A DOLPHIN!
Here's a pic to prove it.
I also swam with this same dolphin.
See that goofy grin I had on my face? It was pretty much there the whole time I was with the dolphin. Yeah. I looked like a total dork through the entire thing.
Discovery Cove was fantastic, Sea World was fantastic, the beach was fantastic! You know the only thing that wasn't fantastic? The drivers in Orlando. Those people are crazy. Completely insane. There are absolutely no driving rules there. None. You just do pretty much whatever you want. The bad thing is, I'm back home and still driving like I'm in Orlando. Yay for driving like a maniac!
Anyway, I really appreciate everyone giving me their input on where I should live. I think I'm going to be here for awhile, afterall. Yes, there is a reason for such a thing and I'd love to tell you all about it, but I can't. It's a secret. A super duper, wonderfully amazing secret.
And with that, I'll quit rambling and say "good night".
Well, it's only a few more days until I leave for vacation, and fuck me, I can't wait! If nothing else just to get out of this god-forsaken place I live.
Speaking of, since my daughter graduated last month, I no longer have strings attached to Arkansas. Which means I am free to roam the country. I can live wherever I want. I don't even have to live in the US. I could move to Micronesia or something.
But I need a little help with planning my move and that's where all of you come in. I need you guys to tell me how it is where you live and if it sounds good to me, who knows? I could be your new neighbor! Wouldn't that be fun? Alright, I promise not to move in next door to any of you, but across town wouldn't be so bad, would it?
Here's a quick update on what's been going on in my life.
1. Work is driving me crazy. 2. I'm not dating anymore. 3. We're having a pirate party at the office night and I'm wearing a somewhat slutty costume. I'm also planning on calling everyone "scurvy dogs" all night. Arrgh! 4. I've started working out. As in weight training, and my trainer is this guy named Thomas. You know - I used to be married to him and his penis. I'm pretty sure he's getting me back for all the times I mentioned his penis on my blog, because he really digs it when I'm in pain. 5. I've stopped smoking, or at least paused - I'm not sure which, yet. Hopefully stopped. 6. Work is driving me crazy. 7. I'm going on a 10-day trip to Florida and I'm taking my daughter and her best friend. We leave the 20th of this month. I can't wait. 8. Work is driving me so crazy that I want to just say, "fuck it" and walk out the door. 9. I'm eating healthy food. 10. If I am to believe my spam folder, I've been picked at least 429 times to be a mystery shopper. 11. I've come across a bunch of goofy ass news pieces that I want to write about, but I don't have the brain power. 12. The vacation I'm taking is my first real vacation in 4 years. Four years and no vacation. No wonder I'm going nuts. 13. I miss you guys.
Hi everyone! Remember me? Well, I am still kickin' - mostly ass, lately. Life has been a bit busy, but hopefully in the next day or so I'll try to get a real post up here.
In the meantime, have fun, be safe and don't forget to floss.
Memo to Rep. Edward Bullard from Florida: Fuck you. And I mean that in the nicest way possible. Seriously, fuck you.
Why the animosity towards Eddie? He's the jackass that's trying to get this license plate approved so Christians all over the fine state of Florida can let everyone know about their faith:I suppose that Eddie's attempt at getting this plate approved shouldn't garner a "fuck you", but the last two sentences of this article does. "Bullard, the plate's sponsor, isn't sure all groups should be able to express their preference. If atheists came up with an "I Don't Believe" plate, for example, he would probably oppose it."
Sometimes things happen that almost make me believe there may be a god. This morning I was telling Jesus Guy that I needed something good to blog about - like a pastor fornicating with one of his church members, or something equally scandalous. I'm starting to think that maybe Jesus Guy has connections with that other Jesus, because while I didn't get a story about a pastor, I did get me some fornicating.
Well, that didn't come out the way I meant it to. I mean I got a story about some Christian fornicating. Yay for Fornicating Sunday!
Maybe I should just get on with the story. LaVern Jordan is the founder of Parkway Christian School down yonder in Spring, Texas. Lest you think that I use the phrase "down yonder" on a regular basis, I don't. But I'm pretty sure there's a writing style rule that dictates that any time you write about a location in Texas, you have to describe it as "down yonder." Anyway, LaVern may sound like a chick's name, but this LaVern is a dude. A totally sexy dude. Have a look see for yourself.
Sweet cheese on a cracker, LaVern. You're makin' all sorts of funny stuff happen down yonder in my pants. You sure are, you big, studly hunka man meat.
LaVern charges tuition for his Christian school, but sometimes under very special circumstances, he'll waive the fee. For instance, let's say you can't afford to pay for your daughter to attend the school. Bummer, huh? But no worries, because you can have hot, steamy, missionary position sex with LaVern and those tuition fees will magically disappear.
Unfortunately for LaVern, when he suggested his super groovy money-saving plan to one of the parents, he didn't realize that the woman he was offering his "sword of the lord" to was taping the entire conversation. He probably also didn't realize that I'm going to post the conversation right here, but I am. LaVern: "Do you have sexual relationships often anymore? Are you seeing a man now?" Parent Who Totally Busted Lavern: "No. Nuh-uh." LaVern: "For the uh enrollment fee and stuff like that, maybe you and I could do something, you think?" PWTBL: "Yeah, what I mean what, what you gonna wipe out all the fees?" LaVern: "All the enrollment fees." PWTBL: "All the enrollment fees?" LaVern: "Three hundred dollars." PWTBL: "So you gonna wipe everything if me and you get together?" LaVern: "The enrollment fee, yeah." PWTBL: "Yeah. OK." LaVern: "If you and I get together." PWTBL: "What you mean, I mean, what?" LaVern: "Watcha mean? Excuse me, and I don't mean to be so blunt, but I am talking about fucking you." PWTBL: "You talkin' about what?" LaVern: "Fucking you. For the three hundred dollars I would expect maybe we could get together several times, you think?" PWTBL: "Several times, whatcha mean by several times?" LaVern: "Well I don't know, you might like whatcha getting. If you're not in like just a great big hurry, I know uh, of a place not too far that we can go and I can just do...that...we can just do some play around a little bit. Would you like that? We could go and do some titty play. PWTBL: "No." LaVern: "Nobody else will know." PWTBL: "Nuh-uh." LaVern: "Can I touch you?"
Holy tingling naughty parts, LaVern! You bad, bad Christian boy with your filthy whore's tongue. You are so making me want to touch myself right now. Seriously, can there be a better pickup line than, "Let's go do some titty play"? I'm not even sure what the fuck that's supposed to mean, but I know it is definitely workin' for me.
I think this has to be the most awkward exchange regarding sex ever made in the history of mankind. You can see the news story here, and watch LaVern the Love Muffin try to deny that he was just in a truck behind a La Quinta Inn trying to get his groove on. La Quinta. That's pure class, LaVern.
Take Care, Babs - who's all about doin' some play around.
I hate to break it to the children of born-again parents, but you will never be allowed to have another Happy Meal again. Wanna know why? Mostly because your parents are batshit crazy, and think that because McDonald's is now a corporate sponsor of the National Gay and Lesbian Chamber of Commerce, if you eat a Happy Meal you will instantly turn into a homosexual. But not just your run-of-the-mill homosexual, but instead, a raging, maniacal, crazy-eyed homosexual with an agenda. THAT GAY ONE! Then after you've tried turning everyone else into a raging, maniacal, crazy-eyed homosexual, you'll be damned to hell for all eternity. All because you ate a Happy Meal! Way to go, kid. I hope the crappy toy was worth it.
At least that's what the geniuses over at World Net Daily are reporting, or pretty close to that anyway. The crew over at WND have their collective hamster-sized scrotums in a snag because not only has McDonald's become a corporate sponsor of the godless, gay agenda, but its VP of communications, Richard Ellis, has been elected to the board of that really, really supergay Chamber of Commerce. Well, jumping Jesus on a trampoline! Who the hell knows what McD's will do next? They'll probably start putting strap-ons and tubs of anal lube in the Happy Meals.
The big guys at McDonald's refused to return phone calls from WND, but did send an email that stated, "McDonald's is indeed a Corporate Partner and Organizational Ally of NGLCC. " I think they should have added, "We also think that you should indeed shove that up your overly tight, born-again asses."
I am so thrilled with McDonald's, I thought I'd help them out with a few new menu ideas that will reflect their choice to embrace that crazy, gay agenda.
Take Care,
Babs - who always knew that Ronald was totally gay.
How the fuck did I not get in the f-bomb range? Speaking of "f-bomb", I absolutely hate that phrase. Mostly because I think if you feel the word "fuck" is some sort of explosive device in your speaking, you may be a little too uptight and may need to just loosen the fuck up or something.
But the Cuss-O-Meter page did state that my 40.6% was 408% more than other websites that took this test.
This note was left on the door of the office the other day.
I sorry I missed you, too, UPS dude. I honestly don't have any problem at all with what you put up your pants on your own time. Boxes, furry woodland creatures, cattle prods, roller skates - whatever blows your skirt up. However, if you're going to be putting boxes up your pants, please don't use the box you're delivering to us and please don't do it in one of our trucks. Okay? I mean, we're definitely a strange bunch around here, but we're not box-up-our-pants strange.
Craig Rhodenhizer is a pastor in Lyndonville, Ohio. He left his house last Wednesday night to go to Best Buy, but Craig didn't come back home. His wife reported him missing, and was probably scared that he'd been abducted by the Geek Squad. But Saturday she heard the good news that he'd been found. Well praise Jesus and pass the butter beans! The bad news was, Craig was located at a strip club.
Oh.
Maybe we were a bit hasty with the praising Jesus thing.
After Craig was totally busted, he pretended that he didn't know where he was or how he got there. Fucking brilliant, Craig! The only problem with his oh-so-clever excuse is that some trampy dancer at the club stated that not only did Craig know exactly what he was doing, but he also knew how to tell her about it using obscenitites. Yay for dirty talk! In his disoriented state, Craig also had a few drinks, a few lap dances and offered to pay one of the dancers to go back to a motel room with him. I dunno. Maybe when you have some dirty whore grinding her naughty parts on your lap, you do become disoriented.
Or maybe when you're a supposed man of god and you get caught shoving dollar bills in a stripper's g-string, you don't have enough wits about you to come up with a better excuse. Why didn't Craig blame it on Satan? Satan's been taking the rap for Christian's bad behavior for thousands of years. It's not like a little stripper action is going to hurt his reputation.
Craig's wife, Susan, stated that her husband's behavior was, "Very, very surprising. Totally out of character." I hate to say it, but I think Susan is totally out of touch with reality. She also stated that Craig's behavior must have been due to being so stressed from the Lenten and Easter season.
Well, now it's all coming together and starting to make sense. I know after enduring yet another Easter, I have this strange urge to go down to the local strip club and see me some stripper tits. It's the only thing that will wash the horror of the resurrection and Peeps out of my mind.
I now have a personal ad online. I think I picked the perfect username, too. TheAntiPerky. That should keep away the men who are wanting some bundle of sunshine chick, dontcha think?
I just figured what the hell. It can't hurt and so far I'm having fun with it. I've also discovered that 95% of the men in NW Arkansas are Christians. Big surprise, huh? So, I email the Christian dudes and ask them if they want to convert me. So far, I haven't had any takers with that totally awesome pick-up line. Who knows? I might end up with some pretty good stories to share with you, and by "pretty good stories" I mean dating horror stories.
Sorry, Evo, I didn't go with your "fucking in front of the Frigidaire" idea. I figure that will have to keep until I get desperate.
That Jesus Sho' Gets Around
I don't know what Jesus thinks he's doing, but that crazy beehotch has been showing up everywhere lately. I guess he's feelin' pretty footloose and fancy free after pulling his resurrection trick. Again.
In the past week or so, JC has shown up in a door, a shower and a window.
I'm sorry, but that is most certainly John Travolta stuck in that door. It must be some kind of Scientology trick. The shower image looks like One-Eyed Bob who hangs out on the corner, and smells like summer sausage and cheap gin. And the window looks like the bitch needs to use some Windex.
It's time again for another installment of Desperately Seeking - that fun game where I share the strange Google searches that have led people to the even stranger Flummadiddle Land. YAY! I said...fuckin' YAY!
Before we go any further, I have to mention one thing. The majority of the searches still have to do with stinky penises. For the love of little green monkeys, I am sorry that your junk stinks, but I can't do anything about it, so STOP IT. Just stop. Please.
Okay, here we go.
Worse than Phil Collins - Michael Bolton. Yeah. That's pretty much all I can come up with.
Squirrels rob bank - I've been trying to tell everyone that squirrels are some evil little bastards.
Nut kicking/training - How much training does it take to kick someone in the nuts? I've been doing it since I was 8. For chrissake, just aim in the general direction of his crotch and kick.
Bible verse about brownies - That's easy. It's John 5:29 "And Jesus saith unto his disciples, 'Let not your hearts be troubled, for I have brownies. Special brownies, nudge nudge wink wink. Get it? Special brownies. NO? Ye disciples are morons. I have brownies and they're special. Ye knoweth of what I speak...aw fuck it'. And Jesus was sorely vexed and forthwith bitch slapped his disciples about the face.
Creepy Arkansas - It's just west of Eerie, Arkansas and 20 miles north of That's Just Sick, Arkansas.
Spider nun- Spider nun, spider nun she's leggy, furry and lots of fun.
Christ queef - I know JC was supposed to be able to do the whole miracle thing, but could he really queef? If so, that totally rocks.
Crotch scratching is a sign of what - Um, I'm going to guess an itchy crotch?
What to do if bunny dies - Cry. Cry some more. Sob uncontrollably. Bury bunny. Replace dead bunny with new and improved bionic bunny.
Fun and fruity nicknames - Well, that depends. If you're trying to come up with a nickname for a man, you can go with Blueberry Balls. For a woman, Watermelon Ass. Use these and you will get laid. Guaranteed.
Fun unusual facts about pigs - 1) Pigs love to read trashy romance novels. 2) Pigs are born with five legs, but the mommy pig always eats one of the legs 'cause pigs loves them some pork. 3) Pigs snort massive amounts of magic dust which is what makes bacon so damn tasty. 4) Contrary to popular cartoon sterotyping, pigs do not stutter, nor do they run around in nothing but a shirt. They are very well-spoken and well dressed.
Spring is almost here, and we all know what that means. Less clothing will be worn. This in turn means that I need to 1. Get a tan 2. Get a pedicure 3. Buy some really cute sandals 4. Lose 20 pounds.
The first three are easily attained, the fourth is a bit tougher. Until the past three years I have never needed to lose weight. Most of my adult life, I've needed to gain it, but something strange and unholy occured in my body when I turned 36. Maybe it was age, or the hormone pills I was on, or it could have been a demon I picked up beause I accidentally overheard a Barry Manilow song at the grocery store. Whatever the cause, I suddenly found myself chubby.
If you're a naturally happy, perky person you can totally pull off chubby and everyone thinks it's adorable. But if you're a black-hearted, cynical beehotch, chubby just doesn't look cute. In fact, if I cut my hair, stopped wearing makeup and began sporting flannel shirts, I could easily pass for an angry man-lesbian that wants to arm wrestle everyone for the last donut. So now I'm stuck with having to do something about my weight and I've been at a complete loss as how to acomplish this task. Until now. Now I have the perfect plan. (Keep in mind that absolutely no reasearch has been done for this plan. None. )
I've come up with a weight loss plan that will let me eat anything I want and still lose weight. All I have to do is acquire a tapeworm. I get a tapeworm, lose the weight I want and then go to the doctor to have Mr. Wormy removed. I know! It's fucking brilliant, isn't it? I'm sure there are side effects to having a tapeworm, but if I decided to use diet pills there would be side effects, too.
Hmmm...I just mentioned the Babtastic Tapeworm Weight Loss Program to my friend, Lisa, and she informed me that her uncle died from a tapeworm. Fortunately for my big mouth, this was an uncle that she didn't know, unfortunately for the rest of me there seems to be a pretty serious side effect of being a tapeworm host.
I guess I need to do at least a little research because I'm not sure how one goes about obtaining a tapeworm. Maybe there's some type of tapeworm blackmarket? Do I just need to eat bad pork? Visit a third-world country and lick a goat's ass? Stomp on freshly squeezed dog turds with my bare feet?
I really hope it's not the last two, because there's just a little too much ick factor involved in either, and I really don't have the time to go tromping around some under-developed country hunting down goats. I also need to figure out what the time frame is between tapeworm acquisition and death. Once I've figured that out, this weight loss thing should be a breeze.
Take Care, Babs - who does not recommend the Babtastic Tapeworm Weight Loss Program to anyone who is pregnant, nursing, could become pregnant, males with hair, hairless males, females who are breathing or anyone who is currently hosting some other type of parasite.
Don't look at me, but at the scarf I'm holding on to. Isn't it the most awesome scarf in the whole entire world? You know why I'm holding on to it? Because I'm not going to let anyone take it from me, and if you try you're going to have to take on me.
It won't be pretty either, beehotch.
Here are the reasons why this is the most awesome scarf in the whole entire world. First off, it's one of my very favorite colors. Second, I love the weight of the yarn. Third, I totally dig that it's handmade. Fourth, it's the perfect length. I can either wrap it or wear it unwrapped with a brooch. Do people still call them brooches or am I really sounding like a 90 year old woman right now?
The biggest reason why it's now the scarf that I make never take off, is that Kathleen made it for me. Yep, the very same adorable Kathleen that hangs around this place. She made a scarf with her own two little hands. For me! I'm assuming she used her hands, but who knows, she's probably talented enough to knit with her toes.
Anyway, this is one of the sweetest gifts I've ever received in my life. Thank you, Kathleen and great big hugs to you. I LOVE the scarf. LOVE it! So, you just take your bad self and rock on with those knitting needles. I will now resume my status quo of being non-perky, cynical and generally bitchy.
I received an email that someone sent from GodTube. The subject line was "I Love Little Boys", and the message was "You heard me!".
I'm hoping this was one of you trying to point me in the direction of some hideous video I could poke fun at. If so, could you send it again with the video? If it's not one of you, then someone on GodTube is one sick dickhole and they're proud of it. Why they would want me to know is a mystery, though.
Church Sign O' the Week
This week we have a 2 for 1 special, and it's only Tuesday! I think a certain g-o-d is smiling down on this happy, little heathen.
Sign #1 - Easter Eggstravaganza
Sign #2 - Have an eggcellent Easter
Church Sign Guy must be one of those liberal Christians who think it's A-OK to have eggs and bunnies and all manner of pastel, goofy stuff at Easter. Unlike those stuffy evangelical, born again buttholes who think that if you dare give your child an egg on Easter, Jesus will send Moses down from way up there in heaven to bean you on the head with his staff. And, trust me, Moses has a huge staff. I'll betcha his staff is really hoary, too. I just had to throw that in, because every time I think of Moses (which is a lot) I think of the word "hoary".
CSG is also obviously on a campaign to have all of the church signs in the area have some pun with the word "egg" in it so, I thought I'd help out. Here are a few ideas:
Demon possessed? Come get eggcorcised.
I'm pickin' up good vibrations. Jesus is giving me eggcitations.
Jesus can beat the eggscrement out of the Easter Bunny.
Our pews may be eggscrutiatingly uncomfortable, but not as uncomfortable as you'll be in the lake of fire.
Jesus: He's eggstra special (but not short bus special)
Come get your sin eggsfoliated.
On Judgement Day there will be no eggscuses for you being such a dirty, dirty whore.
Be eggstreme for Jesus - he likes it rough.
Last one to heaven is a rotten egg.
Our pastor's having an eggstramarital affair, but we're not telling his eggsasperating wife.
Enter as a sinner, but eggsit as an annoyingly pious person.
And if you want to do a sign with something other than eggs, what about bunnies?
You're no bunny 'til some bunny loves you enough to tell you that you're going to die and go to hell.
Take Care, Babs - who has a feeling that The Eggsterminator is going to have some of his own sign ideas.
I just have to say that whoever had the idea of taking everyone's book entry from my last post, and making a compilation of them was a total and complete doink. But, I did it anyway. Here are the reworked entries. They are not amusing. They could possibly be slightly entertaining if you're drunk. So, you might want to grab a bottle before you attempt to read this. Hell, you don't even have to read it. Just leave me a comment stating the obvious that my blog has gone to shit in the past month and what the fuck is wrong with you, Babs?
The truth is, I don't know. Please be patient and I'm sure I'll have my godless mojo back soon. I may have to make an entreaty to the Most High God of Blasphemy.
Let's just get this post over with and hopefully we can move on to something less painful. Here are the new and improved entries! Yeah, that's it. They're new and improved and less filling!
A delirium is characterized by a disturbance of consciousness and a change in cognition that develop over a short period of time. Moreover, there are no laws to protect privately owned rocks, as there are for creeks and certain trees.Or they can try.
By sometime around 330 B.C., Alexander the Great had conquered much of the known world, including what we now call the Middle East.Like Napoleon and Hitler, Alexander was short and very much distrusted cats, Jews and newspapers.Strauss, by way of gratitude, called him a dilettante.Straight truth, Blair thought.
We will now suppose that a nurse has been called to a confinement case. Unfortunately, the obvious 2.Nb1-c3 move is not effective because black can defend the e4-square with Ng8-f6. Another difficulty may arise with some seeds and some weather conditions where an electrostatic charge builds up and hold the seeds to the plate.
At the end of each episode the whole family comes together to drink a cup of Maxwell House coffee. Their eyes watch, as if ready to silence any impudence; they look like they should be carrying switches.
After 2.c2-c4 d5xc4, white is able to gain undisputed control over the center of the board with 3.Nb1-c3 and 4.e2-e4.Soon after his victories he stepped on a rainbow and spent a great deal of downtime hopping around hell on a pogo stick waiting to be bugled to Jesus, who, of course, would not be born for another three hundred years.
The most reliable method of all is to immobilize the freewheel in a freewheel vise and use two chain whips .The woman in the middle spoke, “If I could have the lovely balm Moira spoke of, and a meal, I'd be as good as new-but for the fact every bone of my body feels as if it’s been hit with a hammer."
If you twist a tool sideways you may damage some cog teeth. Owners can chip them, mine them, even demolish them. Cold may be applied to the abdomen and the genitals
The disorders included in the "Delirium" section are listed according to presumed etiology:
Like Napoleon and Hitler, Alexander did not get to have much fun in life. (delirium due to multiple etiologies )
The idea that Mark's gospel might be the earliest of the four, first occurred to Weiss during the progress of his work." (substance induced delirium)
Kahlan took a second glance at their hands to see if they were empty. (delirium not otherwise specified)
The second example was created in 1951 for Procter & Gamble (4) with each fifteen-minute episode interrupted by a commercial for the cleaning product Spic & Span. I solved that problem by fabricating a small wooden crossbar with a toothbrush attached below it.
What is the first thing to be done? White usually continues with 2.c2-c4, a move that gambits a pawn, though it is rare that black accepts the offer. The farther apart the tools are, the harder it is to channel their force in the right directions.
Not only have I been a crappy blog writer lately, I've been an even crappier blog reader. I have no excuse. I was tagged by the lovely and talented OG LAST WEDNESDAY, and I didn't see it until tonight. I am so sorry, OG. If you're upset, you can always take it out on Evo. He really, really loves the abuse.
So here are the rules of the tag:
Grab the nearest book (that is at least 123 pages long). 2. Open to p. 123. 3. Go down to the 5th sentence. 4. Type in the following 3 sentences. 5. Tag five people.
Since the room my computer is in also houses my art supplies, the book closest to me is a nursing book from 1909 that I bought because it had some pretty cool illustrations that I wanted to use in my art.
Here are the three sentences.
Cold may be applied to the abdomen and the genitals. We will now suppose that a nurse has been called to a confinement case. What is the first thing to be done?
Christ on a stick! Even when I participate in a seemingly innocent game of tag, my blog heads straight for the nether regions. Flumadiddle - all the crotch you could ever hope for, without all those nasty STDs.
I am going to tag any of my readers who haven't already been tagged - you can leave your 3 sentences in the comments. OH OH OH then I can post a compilation of them and see what we come up with. Ohmigod! Won't that totally be fun? Of course, it will!
I've been disappointed with movies for quite a few years now. It's rare to find one that is actually worth paying $30 dollars to go see. To me, all the movies follow the same story lines and have the same types of characters. Where is the originality? Now it's gotten so bad they've actually brought back Rambo to the big screen. This is why I usually just stay home and watch IFC if I'm in a movie mood.
We all know that movies are for entertainment and are supposed to transport us to another world where everything is magical. I should say that most of us know that, because I think there are people who think that the movies are supposed to be how real life plays out. Unfortunately, 30 years from now those people are still going to be sitting in their apartment with 63 cats and their pet parakeet, Muffin, waiting for the love of their life to come knocking on their door and instantly fall in love with them and their 63 cats. At this point Muffin is incidental and can be eliminated if necessary.
Anyway, here is a list of the idiocy found in movies:
1. You will fall in love one of three ways. a.) Love at first sight. b.) Hate at first sight. c.) You'll fall in love with your best friend. If it's instant love, you'll think the object of your affection has been screwing their neighbor, but then you'll find out the whole time they were just planning a surprise party for you. Ohmigod! Then you're all in love again and romping in the sack. If it's instant hate, you'll find out that the object of your affection donated their kidney to some 8 year old girl, and the only way they found out she needed a kidney was because they overheard her aunt talking about in line at the grocery store. Donating a kidney to a little girl they didn't even know? Wow do they ever rock your socks! If it's your best friend, you will begin falling in love with him over a basket of fries while you're listening to how that filthy, filthy whore of girl just dumped him. Later, when you give him a consoling hug, you inadvertently discover that even though you thought for years that he stuffed a sock down his pants, you were very, very wrong. And now you love him more than you ever loved any other person in the entire solar system. You also totally get why his friends always call him Big D even though his name is Josh.
2. If you're the dorky adolescent at school your friends will consist of: the chubby kid, the clumsy kid, the ethnic minority kid, the bookworm kid, and the kid who eats his own scabs. You will all get wedgies every day by the class bully until you exact your revenge by building a giant cannon that shoots dog turds. You will also form a ragtag sports team. Your team will never be described by any adjective other than "ragtag". You will win the big tournament with only 2 seconds left on the time clock. The scab eater will then be hoisted on the shoulders of you and your fellow geeks, and you'll carry him around while the school band makes a pathetic attempt at playing We Will Rock You.
3. If you're the dorky teenager at school you'll end up going to the prom with the popular chick/dude. You're the underdog. You will fucking win, you little nerd.
4. Life comes with background music. This really bothers me, because I want it to be true. Seriously, how cool would it be to have your own background music? For one thing it could save your life because....
5. You will never be slashed to death until the scary music starts.
6. In the movies, the space between your cootch and your arms is a magical place for babies. If you give birth, at some point between the baby exiting your vagina and being placed in your arms, your child will age at least 2 months. Your newborn baby will also be abnormally alert, and will be talking and eating whole foods. The kid might possibly be smoking a cigar and screaming for someone to turn off the goddamn bright light. I have little baby retinas here and you're burning them, morons.
7. If you're a woman, you will never be attacked in a dark alley unless you're wearing 4" heels, and a dress that can be easily torn. To avoid this, either wear your tearaway dress with tennis shoes, or wear your 4" heels with a dress made out of the formed plastic that is used for packaging.
8. If you are a detective and have a partner, one of you will be funny and one of you will be anally serious. There's a 99.7% chance that you will be different ethnicities. If you're the funny one you will not be white, but you will be the one who solves the murder. At the end of the movie, Detective Crabbyass will finally crack a smile at one of your jokes. You will then go on to be in 500 sequels.
9. If your name is Sylvester Stallone or Steven Segal you will star in movies even though the scope of your acting ability is being able to sneer and walk at the same time.
10. If there is a movie about teen pregnancy, within 6 months every movie on the marquee will be about teen pregnancy. This rule can also be applied to pre-teen witchcraft and historical events.
So, the next time you feel the need to go see a movie, just read this list and save yourself 30 bucks.
In case my last 50 or so posts weren't weird enough for you, I've got some more weird! I loves me some weird.
The first freaky item was sent to me by the ever alert to odd religious stuff, Kathleen.
You can turn Jesus on and off all day long. Just remember though, if Jesus has a painful erection lasting more than 4 hours, be sure and call a doctor. And why the hell is Jesus pushing the kids towards the light switch? Stay away from the light, kids. STAY AWAY FROM THE LIGHT!
Since the Jesus light switch is so awesome, I thought a Virgin Mary light switch was in order.
From saggy to perky with a single flip. You want to touch the virgin boobies, don't you?
The next display of pure freakishness is a book cover I found over at Sammy Gipp's site. Sammy is a preacher man who writes books once in awhile, but he spends most of his time doing battle with the forces of evil. He's kinda like Luke Skywalker, but he's probably a much better actor than Mark Hamill. Not that being a better actor than Mark Hamill is any kind of accomplishment.
So, here's the book cover.
Holy fucking flapjacks!
First, For His Pleasure should never be the title of a book unless it's an instruction manual on the fine art of fellatio. The only other time the phrase "for his pleasure" should be used is in a condom advertisement. Thin for his pleasure, motorized for hers.
Second, if you're going to be a complete bag o' douche and title your book For His Pleasure NEVER EVER EVER put a man and a boy on the front cover, you sick, sick fuck.
Third, If you have already strapped on the stupid and ignored the first two rules, I wash my hands of you, and you might as well have the man and boy playing with a goddamn erector set. Who knows? Maybe they're building a tower to god.
Didn't Sammy once stop to think that maybe just maybe this was, I dunno, a tad pervy? Take Care, Babs
In honor of Darwin's Birthday, I thought I'd share a sampling of the brilliant statements I found over at FSTDT made by those crazy born again people on the topic of evolution. Of course, I've had to comment on their comments. I sincerely hope that you can determine which are mine.
….you cannot evolve outside your class. Example: plant kingdom, animal kingdom, people kingdom.....
Bwahahaha! We humans have finally conquered and annihilated the dreaded mineral kingdom. Now we will rule the world!
Humans are MAMMALS...not animals. There is a big difference between the two words
I am not an animal!!! I am a human being!!! I wish you guys could have heard that, because it was one suhweet impression of the elephant man.
A poll conducted last year showed that two-thirds of Americans believe in creationism, or the theory that God created humans at a single point in time, while 53 percent believe that humans developed over millions of years from less advanced forms of life -- the theory of evolution
. And the other 168% believe that you flunked 4th grade math.
Evolution is a religious belief. Science theories are very similar to religious beliefs, except they add in crap like hydrogen, oxygen etc.
If religion would add in helium, I might convert. It would definitely make the sermons more entertaining.
The really funny thing is that Charles Darwin recanted his evolution theory very late in life.
Yeah, but the really, really funny thing is that you're a moron. And the really, really, super funny thing is my joke about the polar bear. But I'm not going to share it with you.
I know better than to waste my time with "scientists." In my opinion, evolution teaches a monkey gave birth to the first human, and if this is how you justify its denial, have a good day.
In my opinion, I think whoever is turning on the computer for you should stop. If Darwin was alive, I would encourage him to beat you over the head with a sock monkey. Have a good day.
This is a question to all evolutionists: Do you believe that you evolved from a rock? I give you all the time you need. Trillions of years, even more, take all you want.
I've never thought that anyone evolved from a rock, but you are making me rethink my position.
People want to believe evolution because there are NO rules to evolution.
Do you know what this means? If you accept the theory of evolution, you can cheat at Scrabble!
Thanks to the lovely Carla for sending me this one.
The times when you only saw one set of footprints in the snow...that was when I carried you.
I don't know how in the hell the reporter ever read the ransom note without laughing. I think the Daily Show should definitely look into recruiting him. I give Jean two enthusiastic thumbs up for her "graspy voice" line, and for her dramatic ending..."It wasn't. It wasn't."
The good news is, Jesus is back! It turns out that her neighbors weren't the Jesus thieves after all. One of Jean's family members is the culprit, but Jean refuses to go into any details about it.
I'll bet she's sorry now that she put all those bags of flaming, wiener poopie on her neighbor's porches.
Recently, I was asked to join a podcast and I accepted. We're a group of heathens that are going to talk about whatever tickles our fancy. I think I can speak for the group when I say that we all love having our fancies tickled. Hopefully, we'll tickle yours, too.
So, you should check it out. You should also recommend it to: your friends, family, hairdresser, mailman, doctor, witch doctor, dentist, massage therapist, grocery clerk, waitress, waiter, favorite prostitute/gigolo, delivery person, banker, attorney, psychiatrist, weight trainer, mortician, accountant, baker, dry cleaning clerk, park ranger and librarian. Tell people you know, people you don't know, people you want to know and people you might want to know, but aren't really sure about, yet.
Flipping through my mail the other day, I came to a screeching halt when I came to an envelope with the following on the front of it, "This very old church loans this to you, to bless someone connected with this home. Then, it must go to another family that desires God's blessings. See letter inside..." Of course, my interest was instantly piqued, and all the other mail hit the floor. Bills can wait, but a letter addressed to "Resident" with some sort of mystery loan from an old church is muy importante.
So I ripped open the envelope and I found my "loan" inside. It was a magical, super duper, prayer rug. A magical, super duper, prayer rug made out of paper! With a purple Jesus on it! See for yourself. Isn't this the most awesome paper Jesus rug you've ever seen? I tried flying on it, but it didn't work. Either it's not really that magical, or Jesus didn't like me sitting on his face. Anyway, at the bottom of the rug it has these instructions, "Look into Jesus' eyes you will see they are closed. But as you continue to look you will see His eyes opening and looking back into your eyes."
I was skeptical at first, but after I started staring at Jesus, I'll be damned if he didn't start staring back at me. In fact, we had a stare-down, but I won. I have to confess that I cheated, though by poking him in the eye. He wouldn't quit looking at me!!
After I spanked Jesus in the staring contest, I was supposed to kneel on my Rug of Faith or just touch it to both knees. Then I was to "check my prayer needs" on the letter, and then return the letter and the rug. Huh? Return? What the fuck, people? You can't send me something as groovy as my magical rug and then expect me to give it back. I'm keeping it. I'm going to use it as a placemat, but only for special occasions.
I am, however, sending back the letter with "my prayer needs" checked. I had to fill in my own needs, because I didn't need any of the needs they had listed. Need I say more? Of course, I do. Here's what I'm sending:
Since you don't have my need listed, I thought it would be A-OK if I just wrote my own. I'm sure being good, Christian people from a 57 year old church, you won't mind. I need for Gary Cooper to show up at my door. I would ask for Johnny Depp, but I don't think even Jesus could pull off that one. However, since Jesus has practice at raising people from the dead, I figure Gary Cooper should be pretty easy. I also need Gary to be dressed up like a million dollar trouper, trying hard to look like..um..himself. He should be riding a giant, feral cat, and be carrying a basket filled with: 13 walnuts, 3.2 ounces of transmission fluid, a tube sock with a purple stripe, a red pageboy wig, a clown nose, the June 1941 edition of National Geographic, a 15 amp fuse, a pair of wire cutters and the Holy Spirit trapped inside a mayonnaise jar. I can't wait until Jesus answers my prayer!
There was also a prophecy written just for me. It was even sealed, and had this warning written on the outside, "If for any reason you are not going return this Church Prayer Rug, then this sacred prophecy must be destroyed, unopened and unread, because this is a sacred, spiritual prophecy, sealed word, concerning you and your future."
Yo, Church People. I am not giving back the rug. If you wanted the damn thing so bad, you should have never sent it to me.
But I still wanted to know what my sacred prophecy was. So, I threw caution to the wind, tilted my head ever so slightly upwards, laughed maniacally, and opened my sacred prophecy. I have to say that when I read it, I was severely disappointed. Here's kind of how it went...."My Child, blah blah blah²." It was something about me needing to set new goals in my life, and change was coming, and hey this prophecy totally sucks ass, doesn't it?
I thought when I opened the letter and saw that it was written to, "Dear...Someone Connected with This Address", it was going to be something really special just for me.
Oh well, at least I have my purple Jesus placemat.
Freaky side note: The ever adorable Kathleen left a comment that she had a letter to send to me. Oddly enough, it was this same exact prayer rug letter. I think someone's watching us.
It's supposed to snow here today. We can expect anything from a coating to 10 inches, depending on which forecast you read. So, I'm going to post the forecasts and see who comes the closest to being right. These forecasts are from 12:40 am.
Feel free to make bets, if you so desire.
Weather Channel - A wintry mix in the morning will transition to mainly snow in the afternoon. Cold. Temps nearly steady in the low to mid 30s. ESE winds shifting to N at 10 to 20 mph. Chance of precip 70%. Snow accumulating 1 to 3 inches.
Accuweather - High: 36°F RealFeel®: 27°FBreezy and colder with rain mixing with, then changing to snow, accumulating a coating to an inch
NOAA- SNOWFALL ACCUMULATIONS OF 4 TO 6 INCHES WILL BE COMMON NORTH OF INTERSTATE 40. A BAND OF 8 TO 10 INCH AMOUNTS APPEARS LIKELY WITHIN THIS AREA...THE MOST LIKELY LOCATION FOR THE HEAVIEST SNOW AT THIS TIME APPEARS TO BE NEAR A PAWNEE TO TULSA TO FAYETTEVILLE LINE.
Weather Underground – Cheated and copied from NOAA.
Intellicast - A wintry mix in the morning will transition to mainly snow in the afternoon. Cold. Temps nearly steady in the low to mid 30s. ESE winds shifting to N at 10 to 20 mph. Chance of precip 70%. Snow accumulating 1 to 2 inches.
The NOAA forecast is actually the most entertaining to read. They're so dramatic about our possible 4-10 inches of snow, and they use ALL CAPS and everything. They warn that with the wind, we could be facing snow drifts of 2 - 3 feet! Jesus Tap Dancing Christ! If you live in northeast Oklahoma or northwest Arkansas do NOT go outside tomorrow, or you will get stuck in a massive snowdrift and you will die.
NOAA is also warning that this avalanche of wintry precipitation from the sky could break tree limbs, and they could take out power lines. I'm sure after that happens, the looting and rioting are sure to ensue. I'd hate to think of the pandemonium should we ever get a blizzard.
The really amusing thing is that on Friday, the high is supposed to be 40º, then 53º for Saturday and 58º for Sunday. Which means we could possibly have snow on the ground for up to 48 hours. I don't know how we'll make it through this disaster.
UPDATE: 12:10 PM CST - This morning I braved the elements and drove to the store. There was snow on my car. Roughly 1/25 of an inch. The roads were WET. I don't know how I survived. The roads are still wet. There is nothing falling from the sky. I still have electricity. No one has died in a snow drift. But, all of the area schools have been closed. I'm not making that up, either. They closed school with absolutely no snow on the ground. Amazing.
UPDATE: 1:53 PM CST - There is something falling from the sky. It appears that it may be snow. Roads are still VERY WET! Still no drifts. Still have electricity. The suspense is killing me.
FINAL UPDATE: 12:38 AM CST - We had snow accumulation of almost one inch. No one died in a snow drift. I never lost power. It's over. Accuweather was actually accurate. Who knew?
Little did I know when I wrote my post on NodorO™ I would receive so many searches concerning men and their fishy cockenballs. I seriously had no idea it was so problematic for men. At first I was only going to write out the searches for you to enjoy, but then I thought a video might be fun. Everybody loves videos! Then the highly disturbed chick that lives in my head took over, and the result is this video.
I just hope people aren't going to start calling me the Fishy Penis Lady.
Please note - Due to having to compress the video because YouTube smells like anus, there is a glitch or two and I sound like Sylvester. The cat, not Stallone.
Jesus is back, and this time he's in a rotten spot in a potato. Pastor Renee Brewster and her husband, Bishop Winston Brewster, are the proud owners of the Jesus spud. Hold the phone. A pastor and a bishop? I wonder if they're like the Wonder Twins and can take the form of water or an animal. Wonder Twin powers activate...form of a baptismal...shape of a dove.
I seriously have this weird Super Friends thing going on this week. I think it's some kind of sign. I'm just not sure what, yet.
Anywho, Renee discovered the Jesus potato while she was making potato salad for their weekly rescue mission. She was hesitant about making the salad because she didn't feel like hers was as good as Sister Frankie's. I can't say that I blame her. For one thing, the homeless are extremely picky about their potato salad, and would probably riot if she put too much celery seed in it. Until you've seen a group of hungry, homeless people in a rage over potato salad, then you, my friend, have never seen true carnage. The other thing is, and I hate to break it to Renee, but no one can make potato salad like Sister Frankie. She's the Tater Queen. Ain't nobody what can beat the Tater Queen.
Looking for a way to get out of her potato duty, Renee did what any good christian would do. She prayed. "Lord if it’s not for me to make potato salad then send me a sign.” I know that a lot of you are thinking that when Renee started her prayer with "Lord" she meant the lord mentioned in the bible. But, a friend of a cousin of a co-worker of Renee's neighbor told me that Renee really prays to Jack Lord.
Lord answered her prayer and dispatched Jesus to burrow into one of the potatoes Renee was using. I'm going to let you in on a secret. Jack Lord is in heaven right this very minute, and he is the Chief Jesus Dispatcher. He also always sends Jesus out with an "Aloha, sucker." Jesus hates that.
But, back to the potato.
I'm not sure which one of these is supposed to be the real Jesus potato. It's highly possible that Jesus has his own Wonder Twin. If he does, it would be more like...shape of a nail puller...form of Band-aids. A lot of them. Possibly a tourniquet.
Maybe Renee can help us figure out which is the genuine Flying Jesus Potato. “It’s remarkable.Even when I cut the good part off the cross ended up being shaped like a tomb from long ago.”
Frankly, I don't know what the hell she's talking about. If the real Jesus is the one on the right, the potato is shaped like a stalactite. If the real Jesus is on the left, the potato is shaped like a, well, much like a chunk of potato.
I know the burning question on everyone's mind is if Renee got out of her potato salad duty. No way. Lord told her to shut her cakehole, and make the friggin' salad, already. Renee obeyed, because no one refuses Steve McGarrett. And did the Flying Jesus Potato bring her luck in her salad making endeavor? Here's what Bishop B told Renee, “It was good.It was the best you ever made...it was almost as good as Sister Frankie's". Uh oh. Looks like the Tater Queen better watch out, 'cause there's a new spud slinger in town, and she's got Jesus and Jack Lord watchin' her back. I think there's a Tater Queen Throwdown in the near future.
Bishop B also stated, "When this occurred it gave us this extra motivation that intuition hey we aren't in this alone". Don't ask me what the fuck he's trying to say. I'm just quoting from the article. Maybe someone at Fox 35 needs to throw in a comma once in awhile, or maybe Bishop B has been drinking some of Sister Frankie's "Heavenly Hooch". That Sister Frankie is one talented woman in the kitchen.
Totally stoked from her delusional high, Renee summed up her experience as such, “I just want people to know God is still as real today as he was back then and he can show up anytime he gets ready.” Well, praise the Flying Jesus Potato and pass me some tater salad. Just be careful when you're eating it, or you may find yourself chewing on a big chunk of Jesus. And he's so not tasty.
Many thanks to The Chaplain for alerting me to this tuberrific sighting.
Chuck Norris wrote an absolutely fascinating article over at the National Ledger. And by fascinating, I mean I laughed so hard I choked. I won't post the entire comedic script here, but I'll point out a few highlights.
Sitting at another full-throttle World Combat League event in San Antonio, Texas, on Friday night, I caught myself momentarily reflecting back upon the previous two days of campaigning with GOP front-runner Mike Huckabee. As the contestants combated in the WCL ring, I thought to myself, "The fight of the century would be Hillary vs. Huckabee in the presidential ring."
Ah, I can't tell you how many times I, too, have been at a World Combat League event and found myself reflecting. One time, I even found myself pondering which led me to almost slip into reminiscing, but I stopped myself in the nick of time. By the way, your thoughts scare me. Inside your head is a big, empty, dark, scary place to be. Much like I imagine Condoleezza Rice's vagina to be. Not that I spend much time thinking about her cooch, but on those rare occasions when I do, I can't stop myself from comparing it to your head.
I've trained fighters for nearly four decades now. I was a six-time world champion. I pretty much know what it takes to create a winner. And I believe there is a similarity between making winners in the fighting ring and the presidential one: Only the strong survive.
And only the good die young, and only the lonely know why I cry. However, god only knows what I'd be without you, because only you and you alone can thrill me like you do. Six time world champion? Well, sweet Jesus on an eggbeater. With credentials like that, how could I resist your order to vote for Mike? Oh, I know. Because I will never, ever vote for Mike Huckabee unless it's for something like, "Most Delusional Politician of the Year."
Right now the Clinton machine (which Huckabee calls "the sausage grinder") is planning how to slice and dice each of the GOP candidates if they win the nomination.
Forget those other grinders. The Clinton Machine not only grinds, but with the easy to use attachments, it also slices, dices, quarters, chops, minces, grates and juices. Why bother with cumbersome knives, grinders and graters? Don't clutter your counters with countless implements. The Clinton Machine does it all. Order now and we'll also send you the Clinton Machine Chia Pet absolutely free!
The only resource Clinton has that could combat Mike is more money, and in this ring, we all know the muscle in that fist. But we can prevent that, and we must do it by financially joining Mike's army before it's too late.
The muscle in that fist? Are you trying to talk dirty to me, Chuck? How much muscle are you holding in your big, hairy-knuckled, man fist? Oh, do you mean the collective Clinton Machine fist? I guess I'm going to have to change my advertisement to include that the Clinton Machine also punches. Which could come in handy just in case you're suddenly attacked by Chuck Norris while grinding your sausage.
Keep Hope alive! Join my wife Gena and me in electing Mike Huckabee!
Well, slap my ass and call me Spanky! Chuck's married? I would have never thought that someone would marry that. I wonder if his wife has to wear a rain coat all the time to keep from being doused by all that Chucktosterone. I think in order to really convince people to vote for Huckabee, Chuck should have written, "Join my wife Gena and me in electing Mike Huckabee, or I'll beat you into a bloody pulp and leave your carcass to be consumed by maggots. Walker, Texas Ranger RULES!"
When I was little I wanted to be Wonder Woman. Not the live-action Linda Carter Wonder Woman, but the cartoon Super Friends Wonder Woman. I loved her hair, her boots, her bullet-deflecting bracelets, and even her star-spangled corset-teddy-slut suit thing. I'll bet it was really a bodysuit - one with snaps at the crotch. Did anyone else ever have to wear those? I don't know what kind of sadist invented them, but they were one sick individual. Bodysuits were especially horrible when you outgrew one, but still tried to wear it anyway. Because once you were to big for the thing and tried to snap it, as soon as you straightened back up it suddenly unsnapped, and you had a crotch snaps flying at your face at about 200 mph. I'm sure there was more than one person back in the 70s who suffered facial trauma from a flying bodysuit snap.
Anyway, back to Wonder Woman. Even though I wanted to be her more than anything in the whole wide world, I thought her invisible plane sucked big, green monkey nuts. You know why? Because while the plane was invisible, Wonder Woman was not. I hated that, and I'll bet I wasn't the only kid on Saturday morning sitting there thinking that Wonder Woman was a complete twat if she thought that no one could see her because she was flying an invisible plane. We could totally see you, Wonder Woman. Right through your stupid invisible plane.
Meanwhile, Back at the Church of Fucking
You guys remember Earl? The preacher at the Cathedral of the Holy Spirit at Chapel Hill Harvester Church whose nephew was also his son? You know, the one that didn't fuck a camel.
Well, Earl still hasn't fornicated with a camel, but dammit all I wish he would.
Earl did, however, plead guilty to lying his holy ass off under oath about ever putting his peepee into any woman other than his wife. The paternity test that proved he was his nephew's daddy kind of gave him away. I'm thinkin' Earl's pretty pissed that his god ever invented that damn DNA shit. Due to Earl being a douche bag, and not only sleeping with his brother's wife, but then lying about it, he was fined $1000 and is on probation for 10 years.
I'll bet he wouldn't get more than 10 years probation for boinking a camel. So, whatta ya say Earl? Take one for the team. Give me something good to write about, because when I have to resort to writing about Wonder Woman and you not fucking a camel, Earl, I obviously don't have any decent fodder.
Meanwhile, Back at Church Sign O' the Week
Finally! It's been so long since I've had a good church sign. I think Church Sign Guy has been cheating on me with some other atheist chick. But, it's okay, because this week's sign more than makes up for his philandering ways.
Oh, Church Thign Guy. You're tho clever! At your church, can you get your boobth growed, and your nothe thrinked? Maybe even have your penith pumped or have implanth thtuck in your ath? You rock my world, Church Thign Guy. Theriously.
I'm the recipient of another tagging, thanks to the ever adorable Heather.
Here are the rules of this particular tag.
-Link to the person that tagged you.
- Post the rules on your blog.
- Share six non-important things/habits/quirks about yourself.
- Tag six people and at the end of your post, link to their blogs.
- Let each person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.
First the jingle. Habits and quirks, habits and quirks, our habits and quirks drive people berserks. And now on to: "Freaky things you wanted to know about Babs, but were afraid to ask."
1. I have to rub my belly 3 times before I go to sleep. I think this goes back to when I was little, I would always ask my older sisters to rub my belly to help me get to sleep. Either that, or I think I'm Buddha, and I'm rubbing it for good luck. Not that my belly is Buddhaesque, his is just the first good luck belly that popped in my head.
2. Whenever I'm at a restaurant, I watch couples and try to decide if it's their first date, if they've been dating for awhile, or if they're married. First dates are always the best ones, because there's a greater chance that due to nervousness, somebody's going to knock over a drink. Or laugh and squirt pop out their nose. Or even fart, burp or queef. You have to admit, some chick queefing on the first date at a restaurant would be pretty damn funny. And, I'm sure, given time, she'd see the humor in it, too.
3. I always start my way from the back of a magazine and work my way to the front. Same way with crossword puzzles. I always start with the challenger puzzles and work my way to the easy ones.
4. When I get really stressed, I rub either the left side of my forehead or the left side of my neck. Sometimes I do this so much, I get a rash from it. Like diaper rash only on my head.
5. I don't do this as much as I used to, but sometimes when people are talking I find myself "typing" their conversation. It's not like I hold my hands out in front of me and type on my imaginary keyboard. But, I'll type against my legs. Jesus Christ, that's just weird, and there's no telling what kind of condition people think I have when they notice me typing on my legs.
6. I think I've written about this before, but I always have to get the third newspaper in the stack. I have no idea why. I don't grab the third magazine from the stand, but now that I think about it, if the magazines were stacked, I'd grab the third one. What's the deal with me and the number 3?
So, there you have it. It took me way too many days to come up with such a lame list, so I'm going to tag 6 people who can come up with a less lame list than I did.
I'm sorry, but that is most certainly John Travolta stuck in that door. It must be some kind of Scientology trick. The shower image looks like One-Eyed Bob who hangs out on the corner, and smells like summer sausage and cheap gin. And the window looks like the bitch needs to use some Windex.
