Friday, January 26, 2007

Some People Are Fucking Stupid
Proof That Even The Stupidest Warning Sticker Is Needed

I just ran across this news article. WTF? How STUID must one be to not realize that sponge should be WET before you nuke it for 2 minutes or it’ll burst into flames?!?!?!?! Come on people, the original article described how they soaked the sponges in dirty water prior to sticking them in the microwave.

This is my favorite paragraph:

"Just wanted you to know that your article on microwaving sponges and scrubbers aroused my interest. However, when I put my sponge/scrubber into the microwave, it caught fire, smoked up the house, ruined my microwave, and pissed me off," one correspondent wrote in an e-mail to Reuters.

I wish I had that person’s e-mail so I could send them a thank you note for making me laugh at someone’s incredible stupidity. I usually have to rely on tales of current hijinks by certain people’s idiot ex’s.

On to other news. This article talks about how Viagra may decrease a man’s ability to smell. Apparently researchers studied 20 young men and found that the ones given 100 mg dose of Viagra had a ‘drop in olfactory ability”. I wanted this article to end with this statement: “An informal exit interview found that none of these men cared if they couldn’t smell when they had an enormous erection.”

Since we are talking about Viagra, I think you all should know not to give it to your pet iguana no matter how much he begs for it. Poor Mozart’s going to get the Lorena Bobbitt treatment because of his week long erection. Shed no tears for him people, iguana’s have two penises so this won’t even put a dent in his sex life. (though part of me is REALLY curious as to why Mozart was getting Viagra!)

In other animal news, NJ has issued a warning to squirrel hunters to NOT eat the squirrel that live near a TOXIC WASTE DUMP. WTF? WHY does anyone NEED to be told that? Ewww… I think I just threw up in my mouth a little bit.

And that is all, go about your business.

Thursday, January 25, 2007

Badger, Badger, Badger, Badger…

This morning I witnessed the return of THE BADGER. This is Cabbage Patches alter ego that only makes an appearance when she is awoken. When Super Girl started kindergarten a couple of years ago I discovered this horrible personality and often took great care in doing whatever possible to not come in contact with it, i.e. after a couple of weeks of dealing with it while trying to get Super Girl ready for school, I just let her sleep until whenever since she didn’t have to go to school anyway. The kid loves her sleep, I can respect that.

As this school year approached I had a growing sense of foreboding. I had horrible dreams of every morning her screaming and crying from the time she got up until she got on the bus. Images of me wrestling her into clothing every morning and putting her in a head lock to get her hair in a ponytail. Not good, not good. The beginning of kindergarten didn’t start like that; she was amazingly eager to go and was mostly happy to get up in the morning. As the months progressed she wasn’t quite so eager to get up though. She’d come down stairs and lay on the couch, pulling the afghan over her head and wouldn’t move until she absolutely HAD to. Eventually she figured that if she refused breakfast she could get 10 more minutes of sleep. And hey, isn’t sleeping more important than a bowl of Cheerios?

Last week she was sick one day, so she got some medicine and was sent back to bed. She was so totally cool with that. Funny thing was that she woke up at 9:30 am feeling better and announced to me that she was getting dressed and I’d need to walk her to school. She doesn’t quite understand the concept of staying HOME from school. A couple of times this week she’s tried to convince me she was SICK so she could sleep in – she can’t fool the thermometer though. Tuesday and Wednesday she just wouldn’t get dressed so I had to wrestle her into clothes (of which she told me she didn’t want to wear) – what fun!

Today was the day I’ve dreaded. She was in full on BADGER mode. From the moment I flipped on the light in their bedroom until she stepped out the door (and I’m assuming got on the bus… maybe even now as she’s headed to lunch) she screamed and cried and gnashed her teeth. She denounced us all and proclaimed that she hated her clothes, she hated the cats, she hated me, she hated her sister, she hated the dog, she hated those shoes, she hated her backpack, she hated her coat… you get the picture. It was something else. (And for all of you soon to be parents and parents of tiny angelic babies, who happen to be snickering, be warned… it WILL happen to you. All children are born to appear angelic, but they are really little time bombs of terror just waiting to unleash it on you when you least expect it… and then they’ll be adorable and cute again so you don’t actually lock them in a dog crate, you just really, really consider it).

So… what’s the point of this post? Fuck if I know, I thought it might more socially acceptable to write about that than a detailed inventory of my sex toys or a boring account of folding laundry.

Wednesday, January 24, 2007


Hey just wanted to let you know that today is the last day for you to order cookies - I have to turn in the orders this evening at Super Girl's Girl Scout meeting. (If you've already ordered, I've got your information written down already, if you'd like to add to your order, feel free though ;) )
If you'd like to order some cookies, she'd need to haveyour order by 1-24-07 (today). The cookies are $3.50 a box and she needs to have themoney by 2-20-07 so she can deliver cookies shortly there after. Here are the fabulous varieties:

Samoas - vanilla cookies, vovered with caramel, rolled in toasted coconut and striped with chocolate
Thin Mints - oh you know what those are!
Do-Si-Dos - Oatmeal cookies with creamy peanut butter filling
All Abouts - these are new. Shortbread cookies with fudge on one side.
Trefoils - shortbread cookies
Tagalongs (my favorite) - coookies topped with peanut butter and covered in chocolate
Sugar Free Little Brownies (another new one)
Cafe Cookies - gourmet-styled cookies caramelized with brown sugar and a hint of cinnamon

If you'd like to pay with PayPal use this e-mail address (moocowmoo at and please inclued a $.50 or so more to cover the cost of PayPal. If you'd like to mail acheck - let me know and I'll give you my address to send to and the informationto put on the check.
Anyway, that's about it.

Let me know by 5 pm if you'd like COOKIES!!!


The Shoes That Saved My Life!

(Not really, but they are really fabulous)

WOW! Look! I’m not dead! The three of you who do read this brain damage causing blog may be wondering where I have been. Let me tell you. I was abducted by aliens. Yup, they just sucked me up in their ship and made me play cards with them. I couldn’t leave. Just up in the mother ship hanging out. It was a lot more boring that you might think. They aren’t very good at conversation, everything leads back to them talking about anal probes and I’m all like “Okay, whatever, enough about that. We are playing bridge and I just have to tell you, conversation about probing of the buttal region is completely inappropriate for a bridge game. Maybe it would be appropriate for a poker game but definitely not this.” And they’d be all “Ohhhhhhh…” giving me that look with their big shiny eyes and all…

Um... yeah... so where was I? Oh yeah, so I have been MIA because of aliens and being abducted. Except I wasn’t really, I just thought that being abducted by aliens sounded better than admitting that I was just fucking depressed. Yeah, just fucking depressed. So I just didn’t have anything that was even remotely cheerful and happy to write so I didn’t. In fact I didn’t even talk to people. Didn’t read much of my e-mail or take many phone calls. Because I was depressed. And ya know what, that’s just depressing. I know, I suck as a friend for not returning e-mails or phone calls. I didn’t think you really wanted me pissing in your Wheaties so to speak though. But I’m feeling better now. This past weekend I got the old metaphorical crow bar out and pried my head out of my ass. It’s amazing how that can change ones shitty outlook on life. That and a little therapy. And that of course brings me to… My Day of Retail Therapy AND THE SHOES!

Yesterday D was over (I have my time share dog Coco back for a couple of weeks. It’s good I was starting to wonder when I’d have custody of her again. I’ve got a hankering to have a hot pink pooch!) and she had the urge to shop and drag me along. Usually I don’t indulge in retail therapy because I’m a broke dick and I’m incredibly cheap. Currently being unemployed means that my spending money is non-existent. D took pity on me though (well paid me for watching Coco) and financed the therapy for the day.

As with all therapy, it always starts with a lot of mixed feelings and often is painful and frustrating though hopeful. The first place of therapy involved me trying to find a pair of jeans. Now let me take a moment and explain, I don’t wear jeans. I look shitty in jeans. I’m the wrong shape to wear jeans. It’s an abomination. The mirror in the fitting room reflected the abomination that was high lighted with the harsh fluorescent lights. Out I went to model the horror for D to witness. Children cried and old people wet their Depends as I emerged from the fitting room in the terrifying ensemble. The jeans hugged places they should have never come near, they bagged in places they should have hugged and they were two feet to long. I myself had to fight off the urge to jab my own eyes out with spoons at the very sight in the mirror stareing back at me with a pathetic twisted visage. (It didn’t help anything that we had left to run a quick errand early in the morning and I had not bothered to wear make up… or do anything other than clip up my hair… or to wear decent clothes… yes, yes I was looking all of Britney Spears fatter older sister who has the same terrifying fashion sense, all I needed was a baby to almost drop and a K Fed look alike to complete that look.) Hopes dashed by the deceitful jeans, I chalked it up to a learning experience – I learned to not shove my ass in a pair of them!

Later that afternoon the clouds parted and the angels sang as we went to another place to continue our therapy. I scored a shirt and some half price perfume. The trauma was over. One more stop and I heard the cherubic choir as I sat in the shoe department and convinced my offspring to bring me shoes to try on… I convinced Cabbage Patch to actually PUT the shoes ON my feet. I knew this was a sign of celestial harmony. And then it happened, Cabbage Patch brought THEM to me. The shoes were ringed with a heavenly aura as I looked on with awe. She placed them on my feet as though The Creator himself (instead of Liz Claiborne) had just made them especially for me. I gazed lovingly at THE SHOES as she fumbled with the buckle (then impatiently shoved her aside as I strapped them on). With much excitement I took a few steps in them and was delighted that they were amazingly comfortable. I was in LOVE. After a short moment of hesitation I allowed D to convince me to buy those bad boys and we were off! Take a gander at the photo of THE SHOES. Do they not look as though they were made by a heavenly presence? Oh yes, yes they do. And now I must go and snuggle my shoes before bed.