Pretty!

As I was on my way home from the store, I noticed that one of the houses I drove by still has Christmas balls hanging from the tree in front of it.
Now we're not talking about little balls or a little tree. We're talking about some big freakin mother balls and a tall ass towering tree.
When I saw them this past December, I was amazed at the fact that someone would even have been able to even get them hung up in the tree to begin with. I wouldn't have even contemplated the thought about someone having to remove them as well.
So I'm thinking, as I'm driving, that maybe...just maybe...the person who put them up there didn't live through the first attempt to decorate?
I'm not a morbid person, but you have to ask yourself that question. At the very least you'd be forced to think that maybe they sustained a horrible injury or some other equally hideous thing that had kept them from removing the giant balls from the mammoth tree.
It must be something because otherwise those massive balls wouldn't still be hanging there.

I'm dreading this evening.

We are still in the midst of "tournaments". Stupid Little League tournaments!!! I'm tired of Gatorade and hotdogs. I am sick of watching parents froth at the mouth and make asses of themselves because they think it was a "bad call."

I'm just plain old tired.

So if I can get through the next couple of days and finish this up, I'll be happy. It's the reason I have been bitchy and distracted and haven't felt inspired to write much.

Hope the weekend is a good one...can't believe that July is upon us already...wow..

And a week later....

Ok.
So I haven't written in here for a week. I've been in jail..


LOL..no! Not really but it sounded good, you know?
I have been busy though. Plus I've been feeling a little homesick for Maine. I am normally packing up things to go home to spend some quality time with my family during this week of the year.
But this year...*sigh*...I won't be making the trip.
Things came up and stuff happened and to make a long story short we can't afford it.

I'm crushed...

I guess this means that I'll have to booze it up somewhere else. I was kind of thinking that maybe I could hit up the wave pool in Boone county. I'm sure that I could manage to find a couple of families there who'd be more than happy to get into an argument with me and with eachother, ending in nudity and fist fighting and vomiting.
Man...I'd feel like I was in Maine...right at home...

Eh...I'm just kidding...or am I?

I was talking to one of my daughters today about her babysitting job. She has only been at it for two weeks and she's already wishing that school was going to start. Actually, she is hanging in there and I think she gets the whole concept of working because you need the money deal.I mean...who actually likes their job?
I think she's got it good. It's not an every day thing and the hours aren't that bad. It still gives her enough free time to do other things.

Now when I was a young girl, I used to have to walk up the hill in ten feet of snow both ways to even get to my babysitting job.
Well..
I had to work for perverts and crazy people and party animals. I guess that's probably closer to the truth but old people always tell the uphill in the snow story, so I had to try it out...

I think one of the dads I babysat for had the hots for me. Let's just say that I was pretty developed for 13. I wasn't bad looking and certainly didn't look 13. I looked more like 16. But yeah, he was always hugging on me and touching me....bleh. It grossed me out. Then when I accidentally found his hidden stash of porno in the bathroom and all kinds of pages with blondes were marked, and wrinkled and smeared and stuck together...ewww...I stopped baby sitting.
The thought of some one's dad shining up his ramming apple and thinking of me just disgusted me.

I babysat for a couple called the Thompson's too. I did EVERYTHING for those people. They paid me good so the extra housework was ok. They would come home really late and then offer me a hit of their joint or a beer.I always declined and would just laugh at them because they were both so mellow. I guess the thought never occurred to me that I shouldn't ride home with either one of them.
I stayed the night, once. I woke up to Tony coming out of the bedroom, completely naked and walking through the living room to go to the fridge and get a drink of milk.

Got milk?

I didn't stay again after that. That was pretty heavy for a 13 year old girl. I still babysat though. They were pretty harmless.

The worst experience of my life was when I babysat for the Baptist preacher and his wife. The kids were great. Two boys and the sweetest boys around. We played out hearts out every day. But their mom was convinced I was a 'bad girl'. Plus their dog hated my guts. It looked like the dog on Frasier...except it would walk into walls and I think it had a vision problem.
Anyway, these crazy people would ration out the food. We were only allowed to eat what was assigned us during the day. I was not allowed to eat anything else and neither were the kids. She would literally walk in the door and check the food to make sure. I didn't care much because I would bring my own stuff...and I gave the boys the only soda they probably ever had in their lives. I bet they still think of me and remember me as a bright spot in their lives.
*smile*
She was constantly cutting my appearance to pieces...my hair, my too short shorts, my too low cut shirts..you name it.
The final straw came one day when the stupid dog bit me. I was trying to tie it out and it bit me so I let it go and it ran away. It came back after she and her husband came home, but when she got home that day and didn't see the dog, she screeched at me and fired me instantly. She didn't even look at the bite on my arm, which you could clearly see.
So I just left as she yelled and screamed at me.
She didn't even pay me for the two weeks I had watched the boys for her.
So I waited.
I waited a whole month in fact.
I waited for the Baptist Vacation Bible School to begin.
And I went to it.
I went for several days in fact.
Then, when she was in the midst of a large number of church ladies, (some who had been my teachers and who LOVED me) I asked her if she would be able to pay me for the two weeks I had babysat the boys for her.
She turned white. I knew she didn't want to pay me.
She mumbled something about not having any money on her and that I'd have to come by the house. I told her that she could just write me a check.
She paled...
I knew she didn't want to make a scene in front of the other ladies so what choice did she have?
She wrote me a check (which I think she had every intention of stopping payment on)and practically threw it at me. I left the church and walked to the gas station where my mother worked and cashed it.
So much for stiffing me BITCH...

I was pretty smart for a 13 year old huh?

So, does anyone have any horror babysitting stories to share? What about funny ones? Did you ever have a babysitter from hell?
I don't know...I was tired and bored and didn't dare leave the house for fear of Elderly Hell day and I found myself thinking about the past...

So go ahead and share your babysitting stories with me. I know someone has got to have a story...

Tuesday...The Elderly Hell Fest

I dreaded the thought of it, but I was forced to go to Krogers today.
I normally avoid shopping on Senior Citizen Discount day, but today there was no other option open to me. So I drank half a fifth of vodka in preparation for my trip and made my ten year old drive me over to the store.
Umm...no. I didn't really do that. But IF I thought I could get away with it, that's how I'd do it. It's just such a horrible experience for me that I wish I could go through with it while unconscious.

The horror began on the way to the store. There was an elderly couple in front of me, driving a car bigger than a transport plane. They barely managed to keep it in the right lane and at the breakneck speed of 10, the car was swerving in and out of the lines. I kept my distance, that is, until a car approached from behind, driven, I'm assuming, by an elderly lady. I'm not sure who was behind the wheel because all I could see was white hair,teased and curled up to about a foot high,and two little hands grasping the steering wheel.
So it was either a short old lady with big hair or a kindergartner dressed in a Marie Antoinette costume.
Anyhow,regardless of who it was, I was forced to pull up closer to the car in front of me. The car behind me was probably close enough to my bumper to keep a blade of grass from passing between them.
At the stop light, the driver of the car ahead of me almost went right on through a red light. He stopped at the last minute, after a blow to the head from the passengers purse. And believe me...I've been hit with one of those purses before. Little old lady purses are just as lethal as wrecking balls. I was surprised not to see blood gushing out of his head. Plus he was still sitting upright. Of course, as fast as he was going and the way he was driving prior to that, he could have been dead or sleeping the entire time and I doubt I'd have known the difference.
I braced myself for an impact from behind, but surprisingly it didn't happen. Apparently the old bird had better reflexes than I expected. So I looked in the rear view and noticed the hair had disappeared.
"Oh God", I thought to myself. "She's had a stroke. She must have slid down in her seat and stepped on the brake accidentally."
But thankfully, no, she didn't have a stroke. I saw the hair pop back up and the little hands grasp the steering wheel once again. Hmm...I'm not sure if I was imagining things or not, but I could swear I heard her rev her engine. I think my mind was playing tricks on me.
Ahead of me, the light turned green and another blow to the head from the purse caused the driver to accelerate. Off we went once again.

Now normally a trip to the grocery store from my house takes less than five minutes. It took me half an hour today.
It was hell, I tell you...hell.
Speaking of hell, we'll get to that part soon enough.

We all pull into the parking lot at the same time. Me, the old couple in the transport plane car and big hair, who was behind us.
Big hair and I took mere seconds to park our cars. Mine was where it should be...but big hair's was half in one parking spot, half way out in the driving lane and sideways. She didn't seem terribly concerned as she slid out of the seat of her car.She didn't even look back at the vehicle as she walked toward the store.
Her hair was teased up and curled. It probably consisted of half her height. She was short, not much bigger than the purse she carried and wore a t-shirt with a picture of Elvis on it. Not the young skinny Elvis either. The older, fatter version of Elvis. Her pants were too long for her little frame so I couldn't tell if she was even wearing shoes or not, but for the sake of argument, I'll assume she was.
I followed her into the store, looking back at the couple who was still trying to park the car. Thankfully they were parking,(trying to park) closer to the Dollar Store than to the grocery store.FAR AWAY from my car.

I wandered into the store and almost instant had a panic attack.The site of so many mean looking grannies behind shopping carts of death..it was too much for me. It may seem like a shopping cart when you go into the store, but place a granny behind it, carrying a big purse and looking like someone stuck something up her ass permanently and it becomes a mass weapon of destruction.
I've been run over so many shopping carts I've put in a patent on a suit of armor just for me to wear to Krogers on Tuesdays.
I made my way cautiously through the store,hoping I'd remain unmolested by anyone and hoped I'd make it out of the store without an incident.
No such luck.
Just as I left with my groceries, the couple in the transport plane car were walking in.
"There she is!" I heard the woman say.
"HUH?" said the man with her.
"I SAID, THERE SHE IS." repeated the old lady.
I had a sick feeling in my stomach and knew, just knew, that somehow I'd managed to piss her off.
"YOU!" she said, pointing her little twisted finger at me. "You are a hazard on the road! You upset us the entire trip from our house to the parking lot here! You are a menace on the road! You shouldn't be allowed to drive!!!"
I stood with my mouth open, staring in disbelief.
"Look lady, "I said, "I wasn't doing anything wrong. I kept my distance and I wasn't speeding. The speed limit is 25 and we were only going 10."
"DON'T SASS ME!!" she screamed! YOU WERE RIGHT ON OUR BUMPER! YOU MADE MY POOR HAROLD NERVOUS! YOU ARE AN EVIL GIRL!"
(I'm a girl? Ha...gee,whoda thunk it?)
"Whatever lady."
"YOU STOP YOUR SASSING!HAROLD, DID YOU HEAR WHAT SHE SAID TO ME?"
"Huh?"
At this point she started to look red in the face. I decided I didn't want to be in the middle of things if she dropped dead. So I left.

Listen...I don't dislike old people. Hell..I'm almost an old person myself. It's just that I attract this irrational old people hate. Old white lady hate to be more specific. I'm just tired of it. I wanted to tell the old sack of guts to bite me but I didn't. I controlled myself and left before I kicked her polyestered ass. I didn't do anything wrong. I was just trying to get to the grocery store and back home again.

God I hate Tuesdays....

Street preachers and doggie style dancers....

How many of you have been witness to the weirdos of the world? How many of you have been accosted by them?
I would perhaps consider myself luckier than most.
I would consider myself a weirdo magnet.

I had a run in with a guy at Kmart one Saturday morning. He was nicely dressed and clean cut, but his hair was mussed, as though he had run his fingers through it repeatedly and his eyes were wild and crazy looking.
I didn't see his eyes until it was too late.
He approached me, carrying a black leather bound address book. He pointed his finger at me and told me I was the Devil's whore and I was hell bound. But then he said it wasn't too late to save my soul.
I thought to myself...Devil?..(Do I know this guy? Does he work with my husband? He must know my husband.)
Then at mention of whore I thought..(I knew I shouldn't have believe it when my husband said he doesn't talk about our sex life at work...damn him!)
Anyway, I though the whole thing was some kind of joke and I laughed at him.
That was not a good move on my part.
It sent this kook into hysterics, ranting and pacing while pretending to read scripture out of his address book. Crazy shit about women wearing pants and coloring their hair. I mean how could he tell I colored my hair? Everyone tells me it looks natural.
Freaking liars!!!
He kept ranting and pacing and yelling...spit flying out of his mouth, eyes darting all over the place. He was sweating and rambling and running his fingers through his hair continuously. He looked like Jimmy Swaggart out there.
A TOTAL NUT JOB...
So I just walked to my car and got in. Locked the door and honked the horn to get him out of the way.
Then I left.
He was still ranting as I drove out of the parking lot. But as I sat in the turn lane, waiting for the light to change,I could see in my rear view mirror that he had approached some big guy who had just pulled in on his Harley.
I don't know what happened to that lunatic but I never saw him again.I would like to think that the Harley guy shoved that address book up his ass.

I get accosted by weirdos like that a lot. If I had a dollar for every dirty old man who's either tried to touch me or show me his shriveled up pecker, I'd own this state.

I also manage to be in the wrong place at the wrong time as well.

I was driving down my street to go to the school to get my daughter one morning. As I got near the stop sign, there was a guy standing there in shorts. I thought to myself, "Man, it's kind of cold for shorts." But I didn't really pay much attention to it so I just shrugged it off.
I looked up the road to see if I could go and then turned to look down the road to see if it was all clear.
The guy is bent over, his nut sack swinging wildly at me, while he is trying to take his pants off.
The shorts he had on were his boxers.
I found out later from the people who lived in the house he was standing next to that he had deposited his boxers in their yard because they were "soiled".
Imagine that....

I see some unusual things I'm telling ya...

There is another time that sticks out in my mind this morning. It happened when I was still living in Maine. I had gone to Bangor with some people for the men's baseball tournaments.We were all hanging out watching the games when someone said we were almost out of beer. So I, being the most sober one, was elected to go on a beer run.
I drove down Broadway and stopped at this mini grocery store. I walked through the parking lot toward the entrance and glanced over toward the dumpsters. I noticed there were two people standing behind it. As I looked at it a little longer, I saw that one of them was standing behind the other and moving. They both had shirts on and I couldn't see their bottoms but I finally realized they were doing IT doggie style. Broad daylight, in the parking lot of a grocery store, around three o'clock. Just having sex in the parking lot.
Ok.
So I figure it's none of my business and I go in to buy a case of beer. When I come back out, loaded down with beer..(I picked up two cases because they were on sale) plus assorted bags of chips, pretzels, etc...there are two cop cars in the parking lot.
I'm panicking. I'm thinking,"Oh my God, they saw me drive in here and they think I'm drunk, and well, maybe I will blow over the limit."
Total panic...
Then I hear someone saying really loudly..."BUT OFFICER! WE WERE DANCING AND IT SLIPPED IN!!"
Apparently I hadn't been the only one to see the couple..AHEM.."dancing" and someone had called the law on them.
There was some conversation that I only heard bits and pieces of as I high tailed it to my car to load up and leave, but some of the things I heard were.
"So are you a male or female?"
"Indecent exposure"
"That's considered littering"
"We were dancing."
"Nude dancing is illegal."

Yep...I run across some pretty interesting things...

Over the mountains and to the valley below...ho ho

I was reading a comment left by someone on The West Virginia Surf Report. It said this....

"Recently I was told that the over 35 spare tire women get is affectionately called the

VAGOMACH

pronounced vajummick."

Hmm...this is a new one for me. I have not heard it called that and furthermore, I fail to understand why it would be tied into the vaginal area anyway. Like I said in my reply to the reference. I would consider it to be closer to the boobages,(like cabbages)...so I call it a boob propper.It's a great asset when you get some drooping.
I would use a boob propper...but something for the lower region? No..I don't need anything to help that out. After all,it's the mountains that have lost their peaks, but the valley still looks great.
I guess I was confused by the entire thing.
So I considered it for a bit. Then I realized that there is a flap of belly fat, a little roll thingy that sits at the bottom of my belly, toward the valley and that could be considered a Vagomach. I've often wondered about making myself a little security pouch out of it, kind of like a kangaroo pouch deal, just because no amount of sit ups, or other torture has made it go away. It's a direct result of pregnancy and any woman who doesn't have it, even a little one, after having a baby, isn't human or has had plastic surgery to fix it.

(Don't even try to tell me you don't have one and you have four kids or I will be forced to call NASA and report you as an Alien, sent here to spy on us before the colonization invasion.)

There are just some things I won't buy into...

I don't think I want to run for city council. I've reconsidered the whole thing. I think I'd win, of course, but there are other factors I've been made aware of...recently...

For example:

Are you aware that if you are friends with a certain city official in this town, that people will sit and take pictures of you?

I was talking to a guy last night who told me that people sit on his street and take pictures of him...reading his paper, walking to his car, playing ball with his son...

WTF?

I can only conclude that our council members, or at least certain ones, are insane or aliens.

Have you noticed that I'm kind of stuck on the alien thing today? Not that I'm an alien or anything. I'm not. And yes, I can lick my eyeball with my tongue but that's a gift, not an alien trait.

When our next to oldest daughter was in first grade we had her convinced that we were aliens. We kept telling her that when she turned 8, she would begin to change into her true appearance. She would laugh at us and tell us to stop saying it, but she was buying into it. I could tell.
We ended up having to come clean with her and admit we were normal(normal?) one night after supper. We had just enjoyed some cathead stew (we aliens ate catheads),when my daughter began to tell my husband she didn't believe we were aliens and she didn't believe we'd just eaten cathead stew and my husband, who has incredibly stretchy skin, pulled at the bottom of his face and made it look like he was peeling the skin off it. He roared," THIS IS WHAT I REALLY LOOK LIKE!" and my daughter screamed at the top of her lungs and ran to her room!
I'm pretty sure she'll need therapy for that some day, but we did come clean with her. Told her we weren't aliens. Told her that daddy's face couldn't peel off and revel an alien head. (we even let her try for herself)

Are we the only parents that do things like this?

Ooops. Gotta go. The cat trap in the back yard just snapped...heh heh

I love to be naked...

There is something very liberating about being naked. Especially when there is alcohol involved. I'm not sure what it is exactly but I just feel invincible when my face is numb and ALL of my hair is blowing in the breeze (if you're getting my drift.)
The only problem with allowing myself the freedom to experience this most pleasurable hobby of mine, is my neighbors. They are such a pain in my ass. I swear...I don't understand what the problem is. Can't they just not look if it upsets them? It's not like I don't give them warning or anything. I hoop and holler for a good hour or so before disrobing. Plus there is the fire. I only venture outside if there is a fire to lure me from the house. The feel of fresh blisters cropping up on my unmentionables from standing too close to the fire is rivaled only by the sting of fire ants during those special camping trips I'm dragged on to "Enjoy nature."

It just annoys me. I want to have some fun before I die.

In other news, I think I should run for city council. I personally trust people I've seen naked on more than one occasion. I'm going out on a limb here, but I think that would guarantee me at least thirty votes in my ward. It's hard to remember all of my drunken spectacles.

Speaking of spectacles, I bought new glasses today. I went to the eye doctor for a check up. I took the eye test but I have to admit...I cheated on it. All of the chart letters were pasted on the side of the projector. So I memorized the 20/25 vision line of APSO25. According to my eye doctor, my vision improved by leaps and bounds. Imagine that? Actually I have to agree. I saw things on the way home that I'd missed on previous trips. Some lady was walking a goat on the side of the road, (at least until I hit them..whoops). When I got home, my house was sparkling clean! Well..it was until I saw my neighbor getting out of the shower and screaming at me to leave. (Did you know she shaves EVERYWHERE?) I think..it was either that or her belly was covering the wild bushes. I tried squinting but I still couldn't really tell.

Why did I cheat on my eye exam? Well I'm a bad seed. It's in my genes. I can't help it.

Ok..it's because I'm not ready for bifocals yet, damn it. How sexy is some chick dancing naked and drunk in her back yard wearing bifocals? I would look up...everything would look normal. Then I'd look down and...HOLY SHIT! I'm awfully close to the ground! IT LOOKS LIKE IT'S SWALLOWING ME UP!!! I THINK MY LEGS ARE SHRINKING BEFORE MY EYES!!
I'd be screaming and carrying on like an idiot. What kind of dignity is there in that?

I bet I'd make a great councilwoman...

Jell Shots whore...kind of...

This past weekend was somewhat thrilling. I ran a lot, did a lot of things I'm not proud of, but I did not end up in jail.
I had a meeting on Saturday night that messed up my plans to drink, but alas, I had my own special stash of jello shooters I had experimented with. Instead of the plain old vodka ones, I decided to experiment a little.
I made green apple vodka ones in cranberry jello and some raspberry vodka in..you guess it..raspberry jello. Then I doubled them up in a couple of cups and went for it.
Taste sensation?
I don't really know. By the time I'd tried the double ones, I was already well into the emptying the 13th or 14th cup so I have no idea. I can't even tell you if my clothes were still on or not.
But I'm thinking that I can probably experiment with these flavored vodkas and jellos and I'm thinking there might be a kiddie pool involved at some point and my sedated husband.

*GRIN*

Most alcohol doesn't effect me quite the way you'd think but wine makes me naked in a matter of minutes and when the old man comes a whistling up the walk, carrying a bottle of wine, I know he's got plans for the evening...

Eh..so enough about my alcoholism and sex life.

I have plans this week. BIG PLANS! I am going to clean out a closet. It's a relatively small closet at the top of the steps in our house, but I'll be damned if it's not the messiest closet in the house. It's supposed to house my husbands clothing but instead it holds the unwanted Barbies, purses, clothes, dolls, love notes, dried up lip glosses and unmatched shoes that my daughters have discarded.
They cleaned their room several months ago and since most of the time my husband is too lazy to look in the closet for clothing, he was living out of the clothes basket. Then one day, as I was sitting on the front porch enjoying my coffee, I heard a piercing scream from inside the house.
It sounded like he'd castrated himself.
But no...he had only opened his closet in search of a t-shirt.

The girls lived, of course...and while the beatings continue to this day, the closet is still a wreck, because no amount of torture, bribery or otherwise could force either one of them to clean.

Seriously...there are no beatings but writing that just made us sound like hardass parents...you know..the kind that used to make us mind. Back in the good old days. I still have the belt strap scars to prove it. Some people would say they look like stretch marks, but damn it...that wouldn't make me a hardass. Well...I did birth a ten and a half pound baby, naturally of course, but telling people that just upsets me. Most of the time they look shocked, then horrifed. Then their gaze travels to my crotch area and they look at me like I have a vagina the size of a subway. Do they think there are escalators in my pant legs? I just have big thighs for God's sake!!!I've learned to keep quiet about the size of my babies.

I DO KEGALS DAMNIT!!!

When I get older I'm pretty sure I'll probably have bladder problems. As it stands right now, I only piss myself when I'm drinking. But I think everyone does that, don't they?

Oh My God...you can't take me seriously....

I dropped my daughter off to camp yesterday. On one of the forms it asked if there was anyone my child was no allowed to leave camp with.
Anyone huh?
I thought about it and then wrote it down...

George W. Bush...

HAHAHAHA

Hey..I'm honest. Perhaps it'll get me a ride in a black sedan with tinted windows and a body cavity search, but you know..it's been awhile. Those body cavity searches grow on you...really they do..

I have to go. I know it's abrupt and everything but I need to eat. When you get older if you don't eat on time, strange things happen to your body. There's enough stuff happening without pushing it, you know?

*wink*

I feel BLEH.....

I am trying to share my wisdom and wit today but it's not happening. I feel HORRIBLE!!!
I apparently ate something that disagreed with me. The end result (no pun intended) is that I ended up spending enough time on the potty to read War and Peace. It just made things more painful, this is true, but now I can brag that I've really read the damn book instead of browsing through it and using cheat sheets to get a passing grade on my report on it in school.
I'm hoping that I've rid myself of whatever it was that made me so ill.It's not looking so promising though. I might have enriched my knowledge during my little bout will the Hershey squirts, but my asshole feels as though a baseball bat, covered with sand paper passed through it, sideways...

On the brighter side of things, it was one of those shits where you go so much your pants are loose and the next time you go you don't even have to unbutton those suckers. Just pull em down and go to town...

I won't disgust you with any more details. I just needed to share.
What can I say? I'm a generous soul....

Tomorrow is Senior Citizen Discount Day! It might as well be called, Elderly Hell Fest.I'll be preparing myself mentally and physically for the challenge. I will most likely have to go out tomorrow, so I need to be in top condition. It's not an easy journey through Kroger's on a Tuesday...

But that's another story for yet another day...I'll fill you in on that tomorrow...

I could write good commercials....

I had a dream last night that I jumped in a pool of jello. It was so cool and refreshing, at least in the dream, it made me wonder why I've never seen a commercial like it. I mean, cool and refreshing is a big seller. There are tons of soft drink commercials that push cool and refreshing. Even the York Peppermint Patty commercials are cool and refreshing and you know...the last time I checked, chocolate, even chocolate covering peppermint, is not cool and refreshing. It makes me thirsty.
So...getting back to what I was thinking about...In my jello commercial I would definitely think it would be a great advertisement for jello if it involved an entire pool of the jiggling, sparkly stuff. I mean after all, Jello IS cool and refreshing. In my dream when I jumped in the pool I was instantly refreshed (although the nudity probably helped with the refreshing part). And it was great because unlike pool water, when I got some in my mouth I had only to swallow and there was yet another refreshed feeling.

I really think it would be a great commercial...well...without the nudity.

I'm a commercial genius.

Maybe I can dream about feminine hygiene products tonight. I'm really tired of their commercials because they're not true. There is NOTHING refreshing about putting a pad in your panties and wearing it around for several hours, catching the remnants of your uterus every month. Now let me tell you, that is one commercial where freshness doesn't sell. Everyone knows that with women, it's the pretty packaging that sells. Or if she is a tight wad swede like me, it's whatever is on sale that has the prettiest packaging. Being somewhat bitchy and bloated, we want to surround ourselves with something that makes us feel pretty. If only they sold Monthly Moo Moos. I can see a market for this if it would become socially acceptable. We could hide our padded asses and our bloated bellies beneath mounds of fabric and not worry about squeezing into our pants. It makes us terribly bitchy to have to squish ourselves into pants and then hide the fat roll that ultimately comes with the too tight pants. You know..the one that hangs over the top of our pants that looks like a bicycle tube? We attempt, usually with no success, to conceal it with loose t-shirts.(Normally we use our husbands t-shirts. The ones that end up with chocolate stains on them. That's where the stains are coming from boys)
So see? There would be wonderful benefits from a Monthly Moo Moo.
Another benefit of a Monthly Moo Moo... HUGE pockets we could fill with chocolate bars and cans of Hersey's chocolate syrup. I'm telling you people...bright colorful dresses, comfortable and comforting with pockets of goodies...They would have to sell!It would be heaven. Women would no longer have PMS. We would be free for one week to give into our natural instinct to waddle and eat chocolate!!!

Why won't anyone listen to me? I know all the answers here...really I do.

Silent? Hmmm....

I was standing in line preparing to buy my fifth of vodka for the weekend when a huge, hairy biker dude cut line in front of me. I tapped him on the shoulder and said, "Excuse me. I was in line first."
He eyeballed me and snorted. Then turned around and looked ahead. It was plain to see that he had no intention of moving.
This really pissed me off, but what was I going to do? He was not only bigger and hairier than me, but I'm pretty sure he was carrying a some metal, if you get my drift.
I thought about smashing my bottle over his head, but then decided it wasn't worth wasting good liquor over.
So we patiently waited for the clerk to arrive to check us out.

Thinking himself manly, he kicked up one leg and farted.

"Pwooeeefff"

???

A big manly killer like this, letting a definite "I've been to prison A LOT" sounding fart?

I had to fix this and fix this quickly.

I strained and strained and now I probably have a hemorrhoid farm to contend with, but when I kicked up my leg and farted, it reverberated like a tuba and a drum roll, all in perfect obnoxious harmony.

Both he and the clerk looked at me.

No one said anything.

Then the biker dude moved aside and I paid for my liquor.

It makes me wonder who he'll tell about this. After all, it's not everyday a biker dude is out-farted by a blonde woman driving a station wagon.