Rolling Along

Thunderdrunk, I mean, Thunderduck stumbled in sometime late last night/early this morning after a day out on the lake with his buddies. When he came in he greeted the PetBull and then retreated with her to his room.

Whereupon he began to sing Army songs.

And tried unsuccessfully to get the poor dog to join in.

So of course he's hung over, and he came in and asked me if I had any Tylenol or aspirin. I handed him the last 2 Tylenol that I had, but I swear to GAWD I wish I was on some sort of freakish female hormone prescription or the pill - cuz I SOOOOOO would have given him that instead as payback for the Canine Army Choir.

Oh H3ll, Alma Mater

 A BannedCamper posted a lament that she was tired of her university calling and asking for donations from her for the alumni fund. Really.  I mean we’ve already paid THOUSANDS of dollars to them in tuition, and now they want MORE?

First of all, they need to look and see what your major was before they call.  Liberal arts or education majors have VERY LITTLE MONEY.  Worse still, liberal arts AND education majors (like me) have NO MONEY.  Blood.  Turnip.  Get it?

Other gals offered some seemingly practical advice such as:
“Put them on the blocked list.”
“Look at the caller ID before you answer.”

No. No. No. No.

These call banks are manned by undergrads on work-study programs who A) just need to make a quota of contacts by the end of their shift and B) are probably still hung over from the kegger at Zeta house the night before in addition to being hopped up on Folgers Crystals, Red Bull, and NoDoze from studying for mid-terms after the kegger before they had to show up for their appointed duties.

Here’s my advice.  Talk to them. Start off with, "Thank GAWD you called. I sat next to this dreamy guy in my sophomore statistics class and fell hopelessly in love with him, so I signed up for every class he had the next 4 semesters. I was able to find out where he worked, and I would drive past it every day.  However, by the time we graduated he had a restraining order on me, but I think it has expired by now, and I would LOVE to get back in touch with him because I have been thinking about him all these years. I still have pictures of him all over my house.  Do you think you can help me find him?"

This Post is in Need of Emily Post

What is the etiquette or hygiene guideline for taking a drink into the bathroom with you?   You can't leave it on a table or someone will slip a date-rape drug into it and then you have to do the whole "but you drugged me and brought me home and now you're saying that I'm annoying and you've changed your mind" routine, and that never turns out well.  Or, worse still, you can leave it on the bar and the bartender will think you are finished (ha! Me leave a drink unfinished?) and clear your glass from the bar before you return.

I surmise that since the beverage in question is an alcoholic beverage, the alcohol would theoretically kill the germs that might come into contact with it in the restroom. Hmmmm..... GHB or CDC? Decisions, decisions.  So, where does one SET your drink once you have entered the facilities?  I ended up setting my Long Island Iced Tea on the little soap dish dippy area on the sink while I peed like a racehorse several times this evening (vodka = lack of bladder control + diminished sense of personal well-being).

You know, you learn all these flippin’ rules about hygiene when you are little.  Rules like: cover your mouth and nose when you sneeze, don’t eat the yellow snow, wipe from front to back, etc. etc.  No one in a Baptist family ever talks about “drink in the bathroom” rules, nor was this topic covered in my high school health class (they were all so worried about us getting knocked up during some drunken moment of misguided teen angst and lust that we didn't get any PRACTICAL health advice that pertains to imbibing!).

Here’s a great idea.  I’m gonna invent something with a drink-holder that attaches to you somehow… specifically designed to hold your drink while you make a potty run.

Oh wait.  I’m too late.  That invention has already been created.  It is called a BOYFRIEND.  There is a slightly less reliable and more expensive version of this invention called a HUSBAND.  The latter of which I have.

But I think mine is an older model that doesn’t come with the drink-holder attachment.

Facelift Complete

I am now the owner of a PINK CONVERTIBLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

Oh Boy Oh Boy

I have watched this about 14 times today and I CANNOT stop laughing!!!!!!!!!!! Animal is the best part.

What Are The Odds That This Is My SECOND Post About Raccoon Sex?

So.  We were making fun of MyPoolBoy’s annoying poker friend from a while back cuz I saw him on a news clip about the county next to Mullet County.  And they interview HIM as a representative citizen of the community.  Which caused us to start discussing the “Deliverance-y” way of life that is rumored to exist in that neck o’ the woods.  Thunderduck and his crew began to elaborate upon the range of amorous combinations that exist over there.  Typical goat and sheep jokes – you know the drill.  Then I made reference to the raccoon sex blog I posted way back when, and that was enough for him to launch a reenactment of what he deemed to be the way it happens. 

It went something like this: “That might be a goat, but he’s kinda little and he ain’t got no horns. And he was wearing a mask.  He was my masked stranger of the night.  I waited up all night for the masked stranger.  I got some deer corn outta the deer feeder on the lease and sprinkled it on my windersill and then made a little trail like in Hansel and Gretel into my room so he had to come on into the room.  Then I got a box…. and I waited fer him…..”  
This brilliant entrapment mastermind is the second of my offspring who has enlisted in the armed services to serve and protect our nation.  I swear if I catch wind of him trying to trap “insurgents” with deer corn and a box I’m defecting to somewhere else until 2012 when I finally take over as Princess of the Post-Apocalyptic Leftover World.

Check It Out

MonsterInLaw sent me some birthday money in the form of a check.  I hadn't gotten around to spending it until just this week, but I was thinking that I SHOULD have messed with her in the process of enjoying my little spending spree. (BTW, I got some new clothes and an old-timey laundry/washer/plunger thing for the laundry room - so, thank you again MIL!). 

Because she lives in TheMiddleOfNowhere, which is a suburb of BFE (Bum F*ck Egypt) in the county of Podunk, she banks at a local bank where EVERYONE knows yo' bidness.  I have decided that NEXT year, if she sends me a check I will write in the memo line to express my gratitude AND create a stir.  It will be something that will cause her to get razzed by every teller at her bank (all 2 of them), and perhaps get a few strange looks in the grocery store.  Like:

For  Services Rendered 
For   Sex Change Operation  
For   Bail Money  
For   New Tattoo  
For   Exorcism  
For   Lip Piercing   
For    Blackmail Payment 
For   STD Antibiotics   
For   Pole Dancing Lessons 


Her only real chance of escaping me was 24 years ago when the preacher said "If there is anyone here who can show just cause...."

Yea Team Go School

For all the Lucilles on college t-shirt day 

Or for QueenB (just because it is her favorite saying) 

Can't. Breathe

I am laughing so hard. Mascara running down my face.

School Is a Social Disease

So.  Last week I got really wiped out on Thursday and ended up not feeling well enough to go to school on Friday.  Then Duckit got sick today and ended up getting having to stay home with strep for TWO days.  I told her strep just stood for Sick & Tired of Redundant Education Policies and that she wasn’t really sick but she should stay home anyway cuz at least STREP would look good as an excuse.

So then Bi+chslap and I started coming up with some REALLY good acronyms for excuses which can cause me to call in sick to my job.  Excuses related to venereal-type ailments.  Afflictions that no one would question if you called in and claimed them.

STD – Sick & Tired, Dammit

CLAP – Completely Losing All Patience

CRABS – Children Really Acting Bad & Stupid

WARTS – Worrying About RTI Totally Sucks

HERPES – Had Enough of Ridiculous Public Education Sh1t

AIDS – Attitude In Downward Spiral

CHLAMYDIA – Children Having a Lack of Appropriate Meds Yielding Distress In Adults

SYPHILLIS – Stupid Yelling Parents Hysterically Insisting Little Lucifer Is a Saint

GONORRHEA – Getting Overwhelmed by Nonsensical Orders, Redundant Requests, & Hot-air from Educational Administrators

I decided the only cure is a dose of vitamin B.
Plus an accompanying dose of vitamin E.
Then an additional dose of vitamin E. 
And top it off with a small dose of vitamin R.

Off Like a Cheap Prom Dress

How to Be Stuck At Home

An instructional resource for your entertainment by WTP

Roll over and ask MyPoolBoy to turn the heated mattress pad back on for me.  Lay in bed while the sun rises.  Remark to the 2 dogs and cat who are hogging the lower portion of the bed that I never even get to see the sun rise on weekdays because I am usually inside the school building.  Stretch left leg when Littledog  jumps up to run to see Chunk leave for school.  Push Bigdog with right foot in order to gain enough space to stretch right leg to evenly distribute the stretchy sensation to both of my lower limbs.  Shove Cat over to MyPoolBoy's side of the bed and proceed to fashion a recliner-like fortress of ALL the pillows to make my own comfort a priority.  Close eyes and contemplate going back to sleep. 

Go ahead and get up because Bigdog has decided she wants to go outside to potty.  Open the back door and leave it open so she can let herself back in while I make a pot of coffee.  Close back door when Bigdog reenters the house.  Acquire a cup from the cabinet.  Shake half a package of Splenda into the cup.  Check fridge for milk.  Ignore the surprising presence of a nearly-full gallon of milk in the door of the fridge and get out the Bailey's instead. (I'm not going anywhere today.)   Add the precise standard measurement of a "smidge" to the cup.  Pull coffee pot off of hotplatethingy of the coffeemaker and pour coffee in cup.  Think to yourself: the h3ll with waiting.  Clean up mess that results from taking the coffeepot off of the hotplatethingy before it was finished brewing. 

Set coffee down on nightstand.  Go pee.  Look down and check out belly button piercing.  Promise self to change over to the cute rhinestone dangly instead of the plain silver ball.  Finish peeing.  Strip off all pajamas and get on scale in nothing but panties.  Mentally note the 0.2 pound weight loss.  Muse that this could be a sign from the universe to restart my diet and drink a protein shake for breakfast.  Go back to kitchen.  Notice the big box of Frosted Flakes.  Notice that I notice because it is calling my name.  Wonder where the saying "calling my name" comes from.  Think that I should Google it later.  Pour a heaping bowl of Frosted Flakes and procure the milk that I ignored earlier.  Go back to bed to eat cereal.  Eat a bite.  Shove Cat off of lap.  Eat another bite, using left elbow to persuade Cat back off of lap.  Eat another bite.  Invite Cat to the floor.  Insist Cat stay on floor.  Move Cat to hall against his will.  Shut door and tell Cat to shut up when he meows and interrupts your breakfast.

Take leftover milk in bowl to kitchen sink.  Tell Cat that NOW he can snoop in the bowl and give himself diarrhea by drinking all the leftovers if really wants it.  Go back to bed.  Drink coffee and channel surf.  Flip past news programs.  Flip past meaningful self-help infomercials.  Flip past gardening show.  Watch weight loss success story reality show.  Think I should have a protein shake for lunch.

Decide to check out an old sappy Hallmark frog prince Valentine movie that I had recorded a few weeks ago.  Click SELECT.  Fast forward past all commercials.  Drink more coffee.  Start thinking bizarre thoughts about the movie:  Roll eyes at the cliche scene when little girl decides to set frog free rather than euthanize it in the name of science for her dissection project.  Think about writing an obituary for a frog when he CROAKS.  HAHAHAHAHA!   Think about writing a blog post about frog obituaries.  Finish watching movie.

Nap about 30 minutes. Continue dishonesty-with-self policy by justifying that over one hour is ABOUT 30 minutes.

Wake up hungry.  Reheat leftover eggplant parmesan and spaghetti for an early lunch.  Repeat Cat shove, Cat elbow, Cat floor, Cat exile process through placing bowl in sink step.  Make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for dessert.  Use too much jelly.  Wipe excess jelly off of bread onto a saucer.

Check email while eating PBJ.  Think about blogging.  Answer phone when MyPoolBoy calls.  Get pissed when he doesn't say anything at the other end.  Decide to hang up.  Look at screen to disconnect the call and notice that it is a text message, not a real live phone call.  Reply to text message.  Notice tips of nails need a touch up because I neglected to put a topcoat on them last time I painted them.  Think about redoing nails.  Set down computer and roll back over to watch Supernanny.  Yell at tv screen to bust those kids' butts.  Startle Littledog when I yell.     Have fleeting thought about getting up.  Ignore that thought.  See a commercial for Clean House.  Have fleeting thought about cleaning house.  Ignore this thought, also.

Blog about what I've done all morning instead.

Photo Opportunity

MyPoolBoy found this awesome eye candy on Facebook.  Had to share so that you would spew your morning coffee on your computer screen like I did, thereby wasting perfectly good Baileys (REAL Baileys, too... not the knock-off crap you get from the bottom shelf because it's still a week from payday and you have to save a little money until then to buy shi+ like FOOD). 

BUT....Honestly, my first reaction was "Where did he get those slammin' boots?"

 

  My second thought was" "Do they come in size 7?"


Then I realized I was supposed to be ooged out or appalled or whatever by the picture.

Kinda looks like it could be one of the very earliest publicity photos of the Dos Equis "Most Interesting Man in the World." Back when there was only Uno Equi.

THEN I started trying to read his tattoo.  Because, I was informed by MyPoolBoy, it is not a bikini top, nor is it a leopard print tie to match the boots draped sexily (Ok - I seriously could not type that word just now with a straight face) across his cleavage.

Great news!  I got the photo to zoom in Picasa to get a closer look at the tit tat.  I do not recommend this unless you have alcohol handy - isopropyl - the kind you can use to disinfect your eyes and at least temporarily blind yourself until someone can come in the room and pull the plug on your computer and drive you to the liquor store to buy the OTHER kind of alcohol to disinfect your memory of the close-up of excess body hair you will be witnessing.   All I can make out is what is in the middle "NTRO"  or "MDRO."  iNTROduction?   AMDRO?  conTROl?  Remote Control? 

One of the girls at BannedCamp thinks it says "MAN TROPHY"

And wtf is it that he is holding up?  Grapes?  A wad of shaved back hair?


Please Gawd, someone tell me they burned that couch.

Welcome to McDonalds

This is the kind of crap I find on the Internet when I don't have anything to do on a Saturday afternoon.

Craigslist Made Me Laugh

Not as good as the Freakshow Craigslist post but the last part made me LOL

"I have a bunch of fresh cut bamboo from yard work today, it is free to who ever wants it. Just drop me a line. Oh and please no dumb questions you can answer yourself using google. I have a backyard full of bamboo that grows 12feet every 3 days all year, I just want it gone..... I don't care if you use it to beat your kids or build a boat. just come and get it "

Breaking Training

Before I get too far, let me just point out that the best part of faculty meetings is food.  Our campus usually does a fabulous job of providing enough fare to keep my mouth busy chewing and disengaged from smart-mouthing for at least a little while. 

So. When we had a "short meeting" last week I had to make sure that I went by the candy machine and spend an assorted accumulation of change from the bottom of my purse on Snickers bars for our table because in meeting-speak "short meeting" has nothing to do with the length of time that elapses nor does it refer to the stature of the participants (although Felix could preside over such a meeting as its president).  "Short meeting" actually translates to "no food provided."  

Anyway - there was plenty of food at the meeting today because it was a REAL meeting and it kept me relatively quiet but, it wasn't at the meeting where my mouth ran over this time.  It was the fabulous surprise copy machine training presentation that occurred AFTER the meeting that prompted me to entertain all within earshot.  This surprise copy machine training presentation was brought about by the unfortunate near-demise of our beloved copy machine by someone who pulled on one of the interior components a wee bit too hard in order to presumably remove a paper jam. 

Now, if you've never had the good fortune to have surprise copy machine training inflicted  sprung on you, let me just tell you - I was able to behave for a mere 3 minutes.  Unfortunately, the training lasted about 45 minutes.  So for the better part of the first half of the remaining 42 minutes, I fought the strong urge to mouth off.  Alas, I lost the battle about 25 minutes into the ordeal and I began to make off-color references concerning the copy machine terms and components and therefore succeeded in providing entertainment for all those around me for the remainder of the training. 

After we had ascertained that if you pull on stuff inside the copier too hard it will, in fact, break, we learned some valuable information like there are stickers which serve as sort of guides/instructions as to what to do in the event of future paper jams - unfortunately that means that we would have to actually read the guides/instructions instead of just opening compartments and hoping to find the jam in our own little effed up version of office machine roulette.  So THAT's no fun. 

We also learned that you shouldn't touch any of the interior components that are not labeled with the aforementioned stickers or that don't have a green handle or knob or switch on the component.  Unless you're color blind.  I said it just loud enough to emit a titter from the 3-4 folks near me.  Felix shot me a "please shut up" look.  Which never works. 

As the copy machine training presenter guy continued our education he let us know that the machine had the capability of scanning and reading both sides of a document at once so that it will be "looking at your backside."  I KNOW.  That was just asking for me to stand up and look at my backside. 

As he pointed out the various computerized features on the touch screen, he let us know where the 2-sided feature was, where the stapling feature was, and that there was a logout button and a CLEAR button.  I announced that the CLEAR button must be for running transparencies.  

A few of the folks around me started complaining that it was getting stuffy in the tiny room with about 50 people standing around watching the copy machine training presenter guy.  I offered to assist in ending the training abruptly and clear the room for them by farting.

No takers. 

Horror-Scope

I had a thought about the whole astrological controversy in the news right now: 

The Zodiac Killer is gonna have to start all the h3ll over.

For Pateeta

F*CK CANCER!

More 2012 and WWJP

There's a Hopi Indian 2012-myth-debunking on tv right now.  MyPoolBoy pointed at the tv and said "2012" and I confused him by saying "no, 2102"  and he's like "what?"  and I told him that the clock on the cable box read 9:02 and that it was NOT 2012, but 21:02.  He is growing a bit weary of my quick wit. 

Now. WWJP.  What would Jesus pack? I saw a VBS (vacation Bible school)-type picture of Jesus looking down over the shoulder of a little girl with some little verse like "Jesus loves the little children" or "Jesus loves me" or something.  As  Jesus gazes down from where he is seated, you notice he is holding what is undoubtedly SUPPOSED to be a rod or staff to comfort the little girl.  Except this rod or staff appears to have a protrusion of some sort coming off the midsection of it, making it look eerily like a shotgun.  At least a semi-automatic.  Yeah.  Jesus holding a shotgun butt against his hip.  I could hear the signature "Ch-chk" sound in my head while I imagined Jesus cocking the shotgun against his hip all white trash-like.

I don't think it is so farfetched to think that Jesus would carry a shotgun.  Let me remind you that WAY before Charlton Heston served in the NRA protecting the 2nd Amendment, he was put in charge of the 10 Commandments.  

I made a few of these comments about this photo to Felix and Hyphen and Duckit.  They rolled their eyes at me with the usual "you're really going to burn in h3ll" look that they always give me - and then we all  busted out laughing.

 Look - this is the EXACT SAME PICTURE - except someone who is obviously saving a seat for me in h3ll has ACTUALLY superimposed or Photoshopped the shotgun that we had only imagined. 

I just told MyPoolBoy that if his name was Jesus (Hey, Seuss) that I could get a tattoo that says "Jesus loves me."

He rolled his eyes at me.

Last Post of 2010

First of all I would like to remind everyone that after tonight, we are all merely one year away from me claiming my rightful place as the Princess of the Leftover World.

Anyway, here is my Alpha and Omega - the first post in a long time and the last post of 2010: BannedCamp had a discussion thread concerning Facebook posts that cajole you into putting that you love Jesus in your status or you will be forever known as one of the 99.9999 percent of heathens on this planet who have access to a computer with Internet capability who won't put it in your status.  Because our omission or perhaps outright refusal to do so means that we DON'T love Jesus.

Is this a chain letter?  Am I going to have bad luck and get hit by a Greyhound - either a bus or a dog - if I don't?

Seriously people, it's like a virtual form of those "Honk if you love Jesus" bumper stickers - which I have always considered to be like Christian drive-bys, anyway.  People 3 lanes over don't know why you're honking, and oncoming traffic is clueless as well.  So people are recklessly Jesus-honking and only them and the car in front of them are in on it.  Besides, I'm not risking someone getting all road-ragey when I honk at you because A) you forgot that the sticker is back there and are just getting off of a long, frustrating day of work at the U.S. Postal Service or B) they have just stolen this car at gunpoint and they have no idea that the sticker is back there. 

So even though I walked out of church on Easter Sunday, and I converted a $10 auction pulpit into a bar in my backyard, here is what I will admit to: "I love Jesus, but I drink a little "



So then I decided to go and "friend" Jesus on Facebook or join the Jesus Facebook group or get the Jesus Facebook app so that it will show in my updates so that even though I have not put Jesus in my status, I am willing to allow Him to appear in my "feed." 


First, I typed Jesus in the search box on Facebook and the only two that I had a mutual friend with were Jesuses with Hispanic last names (the kind that are not GEE-SUS, but more like HEY-SEUSS) so I'm thinking that everyione who is posting this stuff about proving their Jesus-ness either knows a different Jesus than I do or they are lying about it.

There is a Facebook group called "Jesus Jesus Jesus" and I think I might know THIS one cuz I sang a song about him in vacation bible school from the time I was 4 (Sweetest name I know), so yeah,  it HAS to be him.  BUT it shows him with creepy Charles Manson looking eyes in the profile pic and  there are no mutual friends, there either.

I also know that it is NOT Charles Manson because Charles Manson has a Facebook page... which conveniently has a link at the bottom of the page where you can click to "Report This Person."

And I bet Charles Manson and I might actually have some mutual friends. 

My Sunday Reading Material

Another BannedCamp suggestion

Amazon Flask Review