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.

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

Craigslist Buffoonery

Currently I’m selling a few household items on Craigslist for extra cash with the bonus of knowing I’m not attached to all of my possessions like a hoarder. This runs in the family so I like to check on myself from time to time. I’m good. Anyways, even when I’m not using it as an internet yard sale I browse through different states and cities from time to time and thought I would share some of the baffling, kinda funny shit I come across. Also, I recently caught wind of the ad that made headlines about the woman selling her husband under “free stuff” as a joke, and that is hardly the craziest thing you will find if you browse it on a regular basis.

– Wanted: Fake Girlfriend: I am seeking a fake girlfriend to attend my sister’s wedding. No pay. Free trip. Lots of free food. Here kitty, kitty…(That was word for word. This either turned out really well or really bad. For all involved. And that “here kitty, kitty” was as about as creepy as you can get.)

– Writing Gigs: Heroin Addicts: I’m interested in learning more about heroin. Seeking subjects currently addicted to the drug. Thank you. (The ad didn’t mention pay but unless there was I can’t imagine many “subjects” jumped at the chance. I am also not sure how many heroin addicts are skimming the writing gig ads. They probably should have placed the ad in a more drug addict user-friendly location. But who knows.)

– Writing Gigs: Note Writer: Seeking writer for prewritten custom suicide notes for loved ones, co-workers and Facebook. (What. Did. I. Just. Read. What the friggen’ hell! …and for Facebook. This explodes so much wrongness I can’t wrap my head around it.)

– Writing Gigs: Blog Writer Needed: Need a decent writer with a blog to interview me to help my business. I know it sounds egocentric and ridiculous, but I figure if someone writes an article about me as if people should give a shit, then maybe they will. Just trying to think outside the box, like all the business gurus preach. Contact me if you’re up for it. (Good for him or her. Nothing wrong with thinking way outside the box.)

– Writing Gigs: Free Story Idea: This story is about an extraterrestrial visitor- The main character of the movie Starman (1984), his Mother. She comes to Earth looking for her grandson and the magic orbs. I have worked on this story for many many years. And given up on it, equally as long. I am happy to give it freely. In the back of my mind, I always had a hunch, I would be giving it away, if someone was interested. If you are, feel free to contact me at the email above. All the best. (This is odd on many levels and yet my heart breaks for this person.)

When it comes to innocently trying to sell items on Craigslist it is asking for the buffoonery to be a part of your daily life. I foolishly thought how simple it would be. List items and wait for people in my area to contact me. Well no, it doesn’t work that way. What actually happens is if you wish to be contacted through email you will receive a massive flood of scam emails. Now if the first contact email was a clear scam I wouldn’t have been as irritated. But they mostly sound like a real legitimate person interested in your item. You know, by saying something like, “Hello, I am interested in your item. When can I come by and take a look?” I send off a reply and then I get back this junk.

– Hello, I really wanted your item but my son just crashed my car. Thank God he is okay. But now my car has a huge dent that I have to pay for. I have plenty of money but after this I don’t know. In fact I made all of my extra cash with tips at this website”____” You should check it out. My sister is even doing great with these tips. But only so many people can take advantage of this so please don’t tell anyone about it.

I received about fifty of these word for word. A huge waste of my time.

I did get some real buyers after weeding through all the craziness. But then unnecessary crap kept-a-comin’. Emails saying, “Hey, just call me.” Others offering me quadruple what I was asking if I would give them my paypal account information. Um, nooo. And someone felt the need to send me quotes from famous people. That’s it. Just quotes. Over and over. What. The. Fuck. Is. The. Point.