Maniacal Musings Part Two

–I heard French fry vending machines may be popping up in the U.S. They’re already in Belgium and making their way to Iran, Croatia, and Chile. And some people have the nerve to say there is no God.

Actually, I believe this gets us one step closer to the morbidly obese futuristic world portrayed in WALL-E.

–I’m tired of looking at Miley Cyrus’s pelvic muscles just like everyone else, but after she recently hosted Saturday Night Live, I see this headline, “MILEY BLASTED BY STROKE ASSOCIATION OVER SNL TONGUE JOKE.” First of all, who knew there was a stroke association, because I sure as hell didn’t. Secondly, it’s a satirical comedy show, and she most certainly didn’t write her own lines. The joke in question was during the opening sketch where Miley was asked, why she keeps sticking her tongue out.


Her response, “I’m having tiny strokes, yo!”

Oh Lawd! Then here comes the stroke police, “Mini strokes are no laughing matter…and sticking your tongue out is not a sign of having one.” Look, my own mother had a mini stroke and a massive stroke, and I still believe EVERYTHING in life is a laughing matter. As a matter of fact, laughing at life’s tragedies can be quite healing. Good grief, jokes about strokes even rhymes, they’re totally meant to go together! Calm your tits, Stroke Association, and realize making jokes about serious matters does in no way, shape, or form take away from their seriousness.

–Fact: I don’t care how old you are, if a brand new box of 64 Crayola crayons does not bring you joy, then you have no soul. I hope the, “Soul Association” doesn’t blast me for saying that because being soulless is no laughing matter.

–It’s, “Tales of the Tampon” time! I was told the most awesome story by a friend the other day. Most importantly I have her permission to share it. (I’ll condense the story to save time and sanity) She was on her way to work where they can’t easily get to their lockers during breaks. She had the genius idea of throwing the tampons she needed in her lunch bag, so she could conveniently snatch’em from the break room. Which of course means THEY ARE SITTING IN THE REFRIGERATOR. It never occurred to the woman this would create a tampon with an undesired side effect. Which is called, “Brrrr vagina Syndrome.” She tried rubbing it between her hands to no avail. She walked around for about ten minutes being violated by the cold intrusion. Luckily, no one asked what was wrong. Unfortunately, a bit of her self-confidence in the ability to think things through died that day. I enjoyed this story immensely, and the more you picture it, the more enjoyable it becomes. At least her lunch was not required to go in the freezer. However, there is a part of me that wants to put one in the refrigerator out if curiosity. Don’t judge.


Some of these might come in handy…

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Mom, Can I Watch Hookers?

My daughter came up to me yesterday and asked, “Have you seen the show Top Hooker.”

Stunned, not believing she said, what I think she said, I say, “Did you say Top Cooker?” Keep in mind she has been watching Food Network a lot.

“HHHHookkeeerrrrrr.”

Never hearing my 10-year-old say this word before and not quite understanding why she’s saying it now, I mentally prepare to have a long talk with her, and find out how in God’s name did she come across this program. Not to mention the fact, if I thought reality TV was getting ludicrous before, well, I assure you, we are all going for a ride on Satan’s rollercoaster, if prostitutes are in fact vying for top prize during primetime family viewing. And what is the top prize – Pimp of your choosing? Lifetime supply of condoms? Upgrade to stripper? Hopefully the prize is counseling and vaginal reconstructive surgery.

Is part of the competition who can stay STD free the longest? Who can hook-in the most sad, pathetic, perves, in one night without wearing two push-up bras, a skank suit and clown makeup?

But all of this thinking was for not. “Mom, it’s on Animal Planet. Have you seen it or what?”

“Uh, what do they do on this show?”

“They catch fish.”

“Oh.”

“Well, whoever ‘hooks’ the most fish or something. I saw a preview but didn’t watch it, but I wanted to know if it was interesting.”

Obviously, I hadn’t watched it or heard of it. But, they know what they did with that title. I’m not sure I approve of the preview I watched online either. If you wanna check it out http://animal.discovery.com/tv-shows/top-hooker/videos/who-will-be-americas-first-top-hooker.htm and this is the first picture I see when I look up the show. Soooo, yeeeaaahhh…….

atophook

It may not be what I originally thought but I have some reservations about my daughter watching it.

Maniacal Musings

— A flexing anus in my face. Nails trying to claw my eyes out. The dogs. They are the only alarm clock I need.

— No matter how many times I look up the word “necessary” I cannot retain its correct spelling. Spellcheck just fixed it, again. My brain is holding some sort of grudge against it. It seems to be my word Bermuda triangle. I always get lost in the middle, scramble around, get disoriented, and never find my way out.

— I don’t like the hour 4pm to 5pm. Yeah, I don’t know. I need therapy to figure that one out.

— You never know when an anonymous threatening letter will need to be put together. Which is apparently why I have one year’s worth of Entertainment Weekly magazines. Or maybe one day my daughter will need to do a book report on the Hunger Games

— I am a 33-year-old, white, married, mother of one, living on the Oregon coast, and all day today April 4, 2012, I’ve had a song stuck in my head. The song: I’m In Love With A Stripper By: T-Pain

Fucking idiot! My lips enjoy nothing better, than forming those words. I love the way it sounds, I love the way it feels. It warms me like a fresh spring day.

— Someone, anyone, please hear my plea. For the greater good of the world, please stop making Nicholas Sparks books into movies. He can write a million books, but his stories must stop being put on the big screen. Putting absurdly good-looking people in those movies doesn’t make them worth your time, your money or you know, improve the story in any way.

P.S. Here is the plot of them all: Love feels good. Love hurts. Love is bittersweet. Love is a bitch, then someone must die. However, if you feel like you might be an emotional cripple, then go ahead, watch these sappy piles of poo, and test your tear-o-meter.

All sarcastic quips aside, individually some of these movies have qualities that may qualify them as, “okay.” But as a collective they’re too much. Just too much…of something.

Top Aggros This Week #2

In no particular order…

1. Makers of the Playstation. We recently joined the rest of the universe and bought a PS3 and it does not play Playstation 2 games, but will play some of the original Playstation games. Smarty pantsies who make this shit, that doesn’t make any type of goddamn sense. I would like to add, thanks for the streaming Netflix ability. It really…well…doesn’t suck.

2. Uninvited Acquaintance Door Knockers: Do not hop, skip, jump, walk, or drive your happy ass to my front door on a Saturday morning if we are not true friends, and you have not given me a heads up. Courtesy is quite easy to look up on Dictionary.com. I say that because I fear a lot of homes do not have a physical Dictionary anymore.

3. Idiot School Parking Lot Drivers: My daughter’s school has a very small, uncomplicated parking lot. Unfortunately, many parents at 8am have their heads up their ass.

Why for the love of all that is holy, would you stop two feet into the entrance. Common-sense should tell you to pull all the way up near the doors. On top of your original cluster-fuck-dick-move, you then refuse to look over your left shoulder and almost hit me. For some reason it doesn’t occur to you a line is quickly forming into the street, so some of us with god given sense go around, and pull up all the way.

After my child is safely inside the school I quickly get home, and into the shower, so I can wash the dumb off that you dumped all over the parking lot.

I’m going to do some research in this town, and find out which body shop people like the most, and then I’m going to let your ass hit me. That will then give me an excuse to get out of my car, and burn you with rampant, verbal violations.

4. The Cinnamon Challenge: Up until last night I had no idea what this was. For those of you that are clueless to this consider yourselves lucky. But if your curiosity gets the best of you, simply type in Cinnamon Challenge on YouTube and delve into the insanity. Basically the challenge is to swallow a spoonful of cinnamon without choking. So of course when a claim is floating around the internet that you can’t do something without the possibility of hacking up your life essence, everyone must make a video challenging the grim reaper. Honestly, I don’t know if it would kill you, but I’m just being extreme, because the whole concept is some fucktard bullshit. But hey, whatever it takes to pass the time. More power to all the participants. Good luck, and don’t let your mother find out.

P.S. If you want real factoids, the Cinnamon Challenge started back in 2001 and had been posted on a blog of someone I’ve never heard of. The earliest YouTube version was supposedly in 2006. The Actual dare of this genius game is to swallow without vomiting or inhaling the powder.

But I am not a fact fairy. I am a writer who enjoys putting a humorous spin on life. These facts were a courtesy.

Assault On The Precious

I recently purchased an exercise bike.

All I have to do now is:

-Get up in the morning

-Take the kid to school

-Take care of the dogs

-Have coffee

-Then hop on, and peddle away these pesky pounds!

Well, almost instantly I had regrets.

I haven’t been on any kind of bike in donkey’s years. I was warned that my back, legs, and arms would probably suffer for a while. None of those were a problem. The problem was the violent attack from the bicycle seat on my precious. I could only tolerate the assault for a few minutes before I dislocated my uterus.

I tried everything to make the seat bearable, and not feel like I was being violated. I folded a towel over the seat—no. I placed a pillow under my toosh—not only looked ridiculous, but was absolutely in no way comfortable. Finally, I ran to the internet and found another seat.

I found some the same shape, but wider. I thought that would work, but then I saw the seat sent from heaven. It is a seat made without the assault on the crotch part. It’s just two moving butt cheek pieces. I would like to meet the person who had the wisdom to make this seat. This creation has put a stop to the senseless intrusive act against my body.

Of course it’s not plush and super comfortable, but what did my fat ass expect. At least I am able to go long enough to work up a sweat, as I catch episodes of The Real Housewives of Orange County.

THE DEVIL a.k.a. Crotch Assaultinator

SLICE OF HEAVEN

Hot Booties: Proof The World Really Is Coming To An End

Last night at 10:55 P.M. my world changed forever. I encountered a commercial that was a sign for “The End Times.”

Because let me tell you something–when a product is created that requires for the consumer to place it in a microwave, and THEN goes from ones microwave to ones feet, then I am sorry, but something has gone terribly wrong, and humans no longer deserve the earth.

I am speaking of a product obviously from the devil himself called, Hot Booties. “Soothing heat to treat your feet,” says the commercial. Yeah, okay, heat on your feet to prepare your ass for fire and brimstone because you fell for this fuckery.

Alright, let me get real about the product for a second. The devil booties are filled with linseed that supposedly absorbs and holds heat. Each set comes with a bootie bag that is used to place the booties in the microwave to heat. The bag is supposed to be so your microwave stays sanitary, but seriously will the bag never end up on the floor? And yes, you can wash the bag, but then do you want your microwave to smell like a spring day?

You can purchase not one, but two pairs for $14.99. The deal being, buy one get one free, but you pay almost $16.00 in processing and handling for two pairs. And if you think that the linseed won’t start to get all “funny” in a short time, then you would be so very wrong.

The cherry on top of this idea are Tim and Taylor, who do the online commercial. Where do they find these infomercial people? Do they send them to How To Be Annoying As Fuck And Brainwash America school? Either they both did a line of crack-cocaine before the camera started rolling, took a handful of Ritalin, or got shot with B-12 right into their bloodstream.

Maybe I’m helping sell this crime against heaven and earth but check out the commercial for yourself at the link below. Beware: You might get sucked in and order them. And I won’t even hold it against you.

https://www.orderhotbooties.com/?tag=im|sm|go|tm&a_aid=011&a_bid=6151f0c2

Do They Put Meth in Vitamins?

Yesterday, I felt like I had been on my vitamin regiment for a week, but I checked where I marked the calendar, and it had only been 3 days. I then wondered if I was a time travelling demon, because I could have sworn it had been a full week. Anyhow, I can already feel a difference. I’ve started a liquid multi, B-12, and 4 various tablet vitamins. I also bought a bottle of flaxseed oil, because the tablets I found only came in boulder size.

I should have gone with the possibility of choking to death. You will never see me on the reborn Fear Factor, because I couldn’t even get a little liquid omega 3, 6, and 9 down my throat. It smells like fish oil, and the taste, and texture is horrid.

Back to the difference I’ve noticed. I’m experiencing a get up and go, go, go, now, now, now sensation. I had opened my eyes around 4am on a day my husband was off from work. I laid in bed thinking, wow I am so freakin’ ready to get up, and if I do, think of all the extra crap I could get done. I could barely see his face but I still stared through my hubs wondering, when is HE going to get up, Jeez, come on already! I’m up–why isn’t he up! I eventually talked myself out of rising, because if I did the dogs might have went off like hungry hell hounds, and disturbed the whole house at 4am. My daughter doesn’t have to get up for school until 7am so I didn’t want to chance it.

Through out the day I’m finding myself having the urge to clap and cheer to the family, like an overly perky high school cheerleader. Now, anyone who knows me would never use the word “perky” to describe me. I have no desire to even be “perky.” Honestly, the word “perky” makes me think of the type of white girl that I am not, nor ever have been.

But, it’s these goddamn vitamins!

The thing that’s really weird is even with all this new found excitement coursing through my veins…I still bleeping hate exercising. As the kids say these days…FML.