Fetch My Flying Monkeys

So I was sitting at my desk yesterday wondering if Eric was going to live on True Blood working and I heard my co-worker next door girly scream. I asked what was up and she yelled "A SPIDER!" and I heard things getting flung around and more girly screaming. Being the quick thinker that I am, I grabbed my stick. I bet you're wondering what stick, aren't you? Well, one of my other co-workers reads this blog (Hi! I promise those cupcakes I brought in didn't really have ground glass sprinkles on them and I promise if someone in a black trench coat comes in shooting I won't point you out as a potential target from under my desk!) and she brought me a South Carolina Stick for scientifical stick science purposes and I kept it at my desk.

So my co-worker was screaming and I grabbed my stick and I went over to her. She pointed towards a little spot and yelled "SPIDER! KILL IT!" all hysterical like. I looked down and saw a wee little spider, like the Gary Coleman of spiders, nothing like the Satan spiders at my house. She was still girly screaming and I started to laugh. Then she started to cry, honest to God cry, and was all "I HATE SPIDERS! BOOHOO!" I said "It's cool, I'll kill it" but it was in a weird location where I really couldn't step on it so I took my stick and went to apply stick science and flick it on the floor and then my stick broke and I screamed "OH MY GOD! MY STICK BROKE!" all dramatical and she let out another girly scream and then I let out a girly scream (I love getting caught up in drama, ya'll) and she started crying more and was begging me to kill it. I looked down and the spider had moved and I couldn't find it. I dramatically yelled "OH MY GOD IT GOT AWAY!" and she screamed a scream at an even higher octave. Then I saw it and I flicked it again with one of the halves of my stick and it jumped! So I yelled "OH MY GOD IT'S A JUMPING SPIDER!" (like jumping made them ninjas) and she ran out the door, knocking over files and papers, and ran down the hall doing that insect heebie jeebie dance. Then I saw it on the floor and I applied shoe science to it.

After it was all over, people came over and started asking what all the commotion was. We announced it was the deadliest of spider species and that we barely escaped with our lives. "Just look at my stick! LOOK AT IT!" I exclaimed and held up the two pieces.

They looked at each other, then looked at us, rolled their eyes all smirky-like then turned and went back to their desks.

I mentally painted a bullseye on all of them. Those bitches are definitely getting pointed out.

Posted by Laura at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (32) | TrackBacks (0)

I suffer from insomnia about every three to four months or so. It's horrible. If you've never had it you need to thank whatever God you worship. I go for weeks with sleeping, maybe if I'm lucky, four hours a night, but it's usually more like three. Some nights zero. I've tried the big sleeping aids like Ambien and Lunesta and they suck. Oh sure they knocked me out in the beginning but then the weirdness began to happen. I'd forget how I got to work in the mornings, I mean zero recollection of the drive and once on Ambien I woke up with my clothes still on, well, one leg was outside my jeans and apparently I had shaved it. One leg. I know. What the fuck? Anyway, I had to stop with the meds and just learn to deal with it best I can. Being an insomniac makes you a zombie. You're super, super tired but sleep doesn't come so you just run on auxiliary batteries you never knew you had, and you look at the world through a haze of exhaustion and a constant low buzzing sound in your ears, and you just function on auto pilot hoping you don't kill anyone because even with a bulbous head, you know you're way too pretty for prison. A plus side to insomnia is you have more time to think of ways to aggravate your pets.

Posted by Laura at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (34) | TrackBacks (0)

No one can make me laugh harder than my friend Richelle. Seriously, I have tears running down my face from laughing so hard every time we talk. I'm thinking about spotlighting some of the shit she says on this blog. She doesn't blog or tweet or Facebook because as she puts it "Girl, when I'm pissed I don't blog my feelings, I cuss the bitch out then I take a damn nap."

Today she called me from work because she was frustrated with her co-workers. Richelle is the only African-American at a medium size company and apparently her co-workers aren't around many black people, so she has some of the most hilarious work stories ever. This was one of our conversations today:

Me: "Hello?"

Richelle: "I am so sick of people asking how old my daughter is and what school she goes to."

Me: "You don't have kids."

Richelle: "Exactly."

Me: "Then what in the hell are you talking about?"

Richelle: "They have a bulletin board in the break room where all the ladies post a picture of their kids or grandkids and one of the ladies here has a bi-racial granddaughter and they put her pic up and now everyone comes up to me asking me about my daughter."

Me: laughs "Do you tell them she's not yours?"

Richelle: "No. I re-named her and tell them she goes to Dreher."

Me: "No you didn't!" laughing

Richelle: "The hell I didn't. Everything black belongs to Richelle here. Any black man that walks in the place they're all 'Oh Richelle is he cute?' Like I'm their black male meter."

Me: "NO!" laughs

Richelle: "Yes! I'm thinking 'Bitch if you don't think he's cute, he probably isn't, so stop asking me if every black man is cute or not.' Oh, and here's the best part- they then try to hook me up with EVERY black man that walks in the office, including the janitor!"

Me: laughs hysterically

Richelle: "I can't be talking to you when you're like this. I gotta go. I have to go to HR and change the number of dependents on my withholdings and make a hair appointment for my baby girl, Shaniqua."

Posted by Laura at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (27) | TrackBacks (0)

My weekend was filled with a lot of screaming, hair pulling, death threats, and tears. Yes, I went clothes shopping. Jesus Christ. It's still almost 100 degrees outside and there's nothing in the stores but winter wear. What. The. Hell. And OH MY GOD, it was like EVERY store thought "Well it's the end of August, Fall must be here!" so they had their AC turned down or off and there I was misjudging my size again, because in my head I'm super thin and tall and smart with lots of friends, and as I struggled pulling jeans over my thighs the sweat started pouring off of me under the blinding cellulite-enhancing fluorescent lights. I finally just said "Fuck It" and went home and cried into a bag of Cheetos while sitting in front of a fan wearing my oversized "Frankie Goes To Hollywood" t-shirt and my elastic waistband pajama shorts and watched a movie the Internet told me to.

So I rented Kick-Ass and it was an okay movie. It is nothing like you'd expect it to be from the previews. I thought it would be about a bunch of do-gooders getting together to play super heroes with a lot of slap-stick comedy thrown in. It may have had a tad of that but mostly it was about a mentally deranged guy, Big Daddy, played by Nicholas Cage, whom I have loved since Raising Arizona (LOVED that movie), who's hell-bent on revenge. He trains and brainwashes his daughter, Hit Girl, to be his side-kick and they go after the dude who years earlier framed Big Daddy and sent him to prison. Hit Girl was clearly the star of this movie and the best/most disturbing part of it was watching this little ten year old slaughtering people with glee. I think she was ten, I don't know anything about kids and I'm too lazy to google it. Also you get to see an adult kicking her ass. Do not watch this movie if the line between movie world and real world is blurry for you and you're all sensitive about watching a crazy-ass murderous little kid get beat up. You rarely witness this kind of child violence in American film, but it really should be shown more often. I personally would pay extra to see a child punched out in every film. Oh hush, I kid, I kid. Or do I?

Anyway, for not really developing any of the characters enough for us to really give a shit what happens to them I give it two Ed Crying On Account She Can't Have No Baby:

And for its gratuitous violence and cursing and showing a ten (?) year old psycho kid getting punched in the face repeatedly I give it three Baby in the Highway, which means "pretty cool":

Posted by Laura at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (36) | TrackBacks (0)

This week was boring and kind of sucked, but I think you all know me well enough to know that a suck-ass boring time never stopped me from finding something to blog about, so here's some things that weren't boring and didn't suck:

Random Friday Crap

1. Richelle wants to go to another psychic. I told her she's on her own, but she keeps whining about it. I told her I'd only go again if I went armed and now she's all "Oh shit no, you'll shoot them if they say you're gonna have a kid." And I'm all, "It will be justifiable homicide." So at this point I don't know what we're doing.

2. I want to thank everyone who voted for my sexy Daily Babe boudoir picture at Fountain Abbey. I'm still waiting to hear if I won anything. I mean, who the hell shows that much skin for free? Gah.

3. Mr. Bingley at The Coalition Of The Swilling made a Circus Peanut Pie to cheer me up since I haven't gone to California yet. Take a gander at this baby:

Mmmm. I would eat half of this pie, lay on my couch with a cool, wet washcloth on my head for a few hours to recover, then get up and eat more. Circus Peanuts are my crack. Thanks Mr. Bingley, you're now just like a crack dealer but not.

4. I get a lot of email from readers who send me pics or articles of things they think I'll like. I love hearing from you guys, so keep 'em coming. I had several readers send me this next item and even facebooked it on my wall. Is facebook a verb even? It is now. So I took it as an omen and ordered it:

How awesome is that? Pretty damn awesome.

5. I plan on drinking this weekend. And because I make poor choices when I'm drinking, I am asking you all to take my lame-ass poll and choose a movie for me to watch and review while I'm drunk dialing my exes.

Posted by Laura at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (32) | TrackBacks (0)

Recently, I told you about the different birds of prey going after Jack, right? Don't worry, I walk out with him now, and no, he doesn't wear his lion suit. Well, it appears our squirrel population has gone down considerably since the appearance of the raptors. This is a good thing. We had too many squirrels and a few tried to eat their way into my attic. Fuckers. Also appearing at about the same time was a mysterious ice cream truck. Now this isn't a regular looking ice cream truck all brightly colored and cheery. No, this is like a pedo-truck of horror that clunks along with spray painted windows in the back, half of the body painted with grey primer and hand painted pictures of ice cream cones on it. Warped spooky circus music plays from what sounds like broken speakers as it prowls down the street. Now the thing I really wanted to tell you is, since the appearance of the ice cream truck, I haven't seen many kids in the neighborhood. That's right. So raptors show up and the squirrels are gone, and then a creepy ice cream pedo-truck appears and the children are gone. Maybe I won't move after all.

P.S. J just called and said I haven't seen the kids because school started and that I shouldn't be writing that children are being abducted by a creepy ice cream pedo-truck because normal people get upset if they think kids are being abducted and that he really shouldn't have to tell me this but I always get out of control with my stories. He also said he saw the ice cream truck and it wasn't that creepy looking and that it only had a small patch of primer on it. Gah. It's like he's blind sometimes.

P.P.S. J also told me that I am not seeing the squirrels because the days are getting shorter and they were nesting, not that the birds ate them all. Then I asked him why he hated raptors so. "Is it because eagles are raptors and eagles represent freedom, Mister Ice Cream Truck/Squirrel Scientist?" He sighed, then hung up on me.

P.P.P.S Here's an exact replica of that creepy ice cream pedo-truck. I photoshopped the driver in. It looks just like it except the tires have more air and there's more primer and less rust and more pictures of ice cream on it and it may be a little whiter, but the driver looks the same except less make-up and he may or may not have red hair:

P.P.P.P.S. And, J, here's a picture of FREEDOM:

IN. YOUR. FACE.

Posted by Laura at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (35) | TrackBacks (0)

Saturday morning Richelle picked me up to go to the psychic. On the way there she said it was an Indian Psychic that her cousin's second husband's sister goes to and that he's so good he told her she was going to have a baby and she did. Richelle's cousin's second husband's sister that is, not Richelle. And I was all, "He'd better not tell me I'm going to have a baby. I don't want to see some baby psychic." And Richelle was all, "No, girl. He's good. He'll know you're barren and hateful." And I told Richelle she could go ahead and pay me now because I could see her future and it involved me kicking her ass. This continued all the way there, and by "there" I mean down a dirt road to a mobile home right next to the Congaree Swamp. "Jesus Christ," I said to Richelle, "I think I saw the name 'Serial Killer' on his mailbox." She laughed, and I laughed back, but as soon as we entered his home I wished I had come strapped. I don't know what I was expecting. Maybe a room full of people waiting to go back behind a pair of beaded curtains. What I saw was a huge Indian dude with a long braid down his back sitting in a recliner eating Ramen noodles and watching the Disney channel with no one else around.

Richelle went first, going with Chief Ramen to the kitchen table. I sat there pretending I was watching Hannah Montana or some such Disney bullshit, but I was actually mentally planning my escape should the need arise. I slipped my cell phone out of my pocket and held it in my hand so that I could dial for help real fast and then maybe use it as a weapon. Yeah, I was sure an iPhone upside a 300 pound homicidal psychic Indian's head would do some real damage. Damn you Steve Jobs for not making a brick app.

All I kept thinking was, "Please don't kill us, please don't kill us" and then I told myself to stop thinking that in case he could read my mind and it would make him spring into action faster. Wait, I thought, he's a psychic not a mind-reader. Then I thought if I hear Richelle scream I'll run for the door real quick (Richelle would be on her own for making that barren and hateful remark) but he'd probably use his psychic powers to hold the doors shut and then have vases and shit fly across the room and slam into me. But then I thought "No, wait that was Carrie." "Burn me with fire?" No that was Drew Barrymore. I was sitting there thinking what a psychic serial killer's power would be when Richelle walked back in and Chief Ramen said it was my turn.

I sat across the kitchen table from him and he was just sitting there staring at me and I wanted to tell him I was born with this bulbous head, but he probably knew that being psychic and all. He kept staring and I was feeling uncomfortable and I wanted to open my shirt and show him my surgery scars and freckles so he wouldn't want to kill me and wear my skin because there were too many seams in it and the pattern was a bit off. But I sat there and looked back into his eyes thinking I'd use my own powers and I started mentally projecting my thoughts at him. "You do not want to murder this girl. I repeat, you do not want to murder this girl." Then he started talking about general psychic stuff, telling me things about my personality that really, could have been about anyone who is awesome, and then he told me I'd live a long time (long enough to get out of this trailer and down the road I thought) and that it would take a long time before I would be completely happy. Great. Then he asked me if I had any questions for him and I kind of went blank for a while. I finally asked him for lottery numbers and he frowned at me and said he didn't do that. I said "Oh, okay." He kept looking at me expecting another question and I was all "Fuck what do I ask him?" So I asked him "At what age will I die?" and again he said he didn't do that but that I would be old and he kept looking at me wanting more questions so I said "Will I ever be with George Clooney?" Then he looked at me like I was retarded and I thought "What the fuck Chief Ramen? I want to know. Maybe." I frowned and he started to get up and he told me I owed him $45 and I said "Oh, oh" because I had just thought of another question as I was handing him the money out of my pocket. He looked at me like "Wha?" after he took my cash and I held my left hand up and pulled the thumb back a little with my right hand and I said "My thumb hurts when I move it like that, do you know what's wrong with it?" I think at this point he really thought about murdering me, and he sighed and said "Go see a doctor." Fuck.

So basically I paid $45.00 to be told how awesome I was by an Indian. I still don't have any lottery numbers and I still don't know what the fuck is wrong with my thumb. But at least I'm alive and I ain't having any babies, so there's that at least.

Posted by Laura at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (41) | TrackBacks (0)

I visit a few blogs on my blogroll that post pictures of half-naked women daily or every so often. I'll open the page sometimes and my eyes are slapped senseless by saline stuffed mammary glands and airbrushed ass. I like to read the comments on these entries because men looking at boobies are funny.

So a week or two ago I was over at Curtal Friar's Fountain Abbey and he was posting his "Daily Babe" entries and I noticed all of them posted that week were redheads. Of course me being the redheaded attention whore that I am and this being the Internet where the only thing that keeps me from having a multi-million dollar modeling contract is, well, REALITY, I had to comment that I was a redhead. Then I noticed he was having a poll on who was the sexiest babe he had posted that week and I kind of wrote my name in. I know. Sometimes I have cocktails when I read blogs.

So dude called me on it and wanted a sexy picture. Shit. But what the hell, right? I'm just as pretty as those skanks, I mean, if you kind of stand way back and hold your head to the right and squint. So I sent him a boudoir picture I used to send to George Clooney until the judge told me I had to stop just happened to have on my hard drive. At first I was all worried, thinking "I hope this doesn't turn around to bite me on the ass." You know, like one day maybe ruin my chances at running for president. But then I remembered that my world domination plans don't really involve being "voted in" so much as "taking over."

And because the Internet can be cruel, and just because I have a bulbous head doesn't mean I'm not sexy, I am asking you all to go HERE and rate my sexy boudoir picture 5 stars or more. Yes, write some extra stars in because I don't really feel that 5 stars could really represent all of my hawtness. I'm not posting my pic here because I don't want to be one of "those women" that are all "Oooo look at me and how sexy I am." Even though I totally am.

Posted by Laura at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (37) | TrackBacks (0)

I got in late Sunday night, watched True Blood, then it was off to bed. Yes, I went to see a psychic this weekend and yes, there's lots to tell you, and I will, but first look at these puppies that were up for adoption at a local animal protection organization:

I think Jack needs a sister. Damn those puppies and their mind numbing adorableness. Damn those evil beasts.

Posted by Laura at 06:20 AM | Permalink | Comments (32) | TrackBacks (0)

Can you believe it? A second entry in a series I started on here. I am actually doing something on here that I said I would. What the fuck? It's like I don't even know myself anymore.

I'll Try It So You Don't Have To

Today I purchased a Pitaya, also known as "Dragon Fruit."

It's native to Central and South America but they're big in Asia. Years ago Asia ran a campaign saying in the old days dragons used to spit these out after breathing fire so they named them dragon fruit. I didn't have a dragon to photograph with it so I settled for pteranodon which is just like a dragon except not.

So I cut it like the Internet said to and spooned out some fruit.

The best word to describe it is "meh." It wasn't sweet or bitter or anything really. I think people mostly eat it because it's supposed to be packed with antioxidants, not for any deliciousness. I'll stick to my artifically flavored Flintstones Vitamins which are delicious, especially the grape Dino ones.

I rate this dragon fruit three Opera Singers because you know you're supposed to like it and it's suppose to be good for you but it's boring as all hell and you'd rather be watching some cartoons at home in your underwear.

And I give it one Crying Retarded Arnie because it cost me five dollars and I could have bought a lottery ticket with that money.

Posted by Laura at 08:34 AM | Permalink | Comments (26) | TrackBacks (0)

Posted by Laura at 01:19 PM | Permalink | Comments (24) | TrackBacks (0)

Random Friday Crap

1. It's not California, but plans have been made to go to New York City this fall. Some friends and I are going and we are going to BUST THAT TOWN WIDE OPEN, which translates to probably taking the ferry to the statue and maybe taking in a Broadway show. There will be lots of pictures and I am sure I'll make a theme of it here and you all will be "For God's sake, shut the fuck up about New York already!" But I won't.

2. Travel plans for this weekend involve my friend Richelle and I going to a psychic! Richelle is like 10 pounds of crazy in a five pound container, so this should be fun. I think I'm going to ask for lottery numbers 'cause I really don't want to know when I'm going to die...but if I knew, I could max out some credit cards...hmm...

3. If you're not doing it now ya'll should be reading the comment section on this here blog of mine. There's A LOT of great stuff in there. Here's a comment from Mel at Big Fat Nerve telling her own infamous Palmetto Bug story that made her my personal hero:

"At work downtown at nights those huge flying roaches you mention come out in the dozens, crawling around on the sidewalk and up the building. When I worked nights, they enjoyed my hair, like some kind of nest, and once in a while they would just jump off the building into my hair causing me to do that crazy dance you just described. One night I was sure one was on me even though I did the dance and nothing jumped off me, and as I went in to the elevator, I asked the guard if there was a roach in my hair or on me, and he looked and said NO. I got on the elevator and sure enough that damned thing jumped off my head onto the elevator floor. I went back down and picked the nasty thing up and threw it on the guard and screamed "NOTHING IS ON YOU" then got back on the elevator and went to work after washing my hands. He hated me after that." 

4. A friend sent me an article on the hawt actor who plays Eric Northman on True Blood, Alexander Skarsgard. Remember I added him to my pretend boyfriend list? Yeah, him. In this article the actor said he plays all his nude scenes completely nude for reals. No flesh-toned undies or cup. So now he's like only the most awesome vampire EVER.

5. Yabu at Bad Bad Juju posted this song and I absolutely fell in love with it. It's Snoop Dogg's Gin and Juice performed by The Gourds, and it's been my official favorite song since I heard it. All about bitches and whores and booze and weed, sprinkled all throughout with cursing. A classic. I LURVE it. If I ever get married I want this playing as I walk down the aisle. Thanks Yabu!

6. There may or may not be blogging this weekend. And by blogging, I mean food pics or movie reviews or pictures, or whatever. It all depends on what the psychic tells me, because I may or may not have some emergency shopping to do.

Posted by Laura at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (41) | TrackBacks (0)

Nature hates Jack. I'm not kidding. When he was a little pup, a hawk tried to get him. The only thing that saved him was the hawk spotting me stepping off of the porch as it dove towards him. The hawk was less than a foot from him. This happened TWICE in his puppyhood. As he got larger I stopped worrying about him much. Then last week, another hawk went after him! He tucked his tail between his legs and ran towards me. I waved my hands and charged toward the asshole bird. It flew away.

Monday morning at oh dark thirty I let him out and as he ran ahead of me on the porch, he came face to face with an opossum! The possum immediately started snarling and hissing and Jack hightailed it and ran behind me. I took a broom and scooted the possum away. It was a juvenile, not too big. And no, I did not get a gun. I live in a city and I don't want to deal with that kind of paperwork when the possum posed no threat to me. Tuesday nature took a holiday. Then Wednesday morning I went out with him again and I saw him put on the brakes. I walked over and saw that the possum had brought back-up, an adult. He was snarling and spitting and backing up so I picked up Jack and we went in.

After work today, I took him out and as I was fooling with the herbie curbie outside the gate I heard a commotion behind me and looked and saw a mockingbird dive bombing Jack. He was trying to run for cover on the back porch but the door was closed. I once again saved his ass.

I don't know what's up with these latest developments. It reminds me too much like that scene from The Omen where the animals all went batshit when they took Damien to the zoo. All I know is, if a priest shows up at my door and asks if Jack's home, I handing him over.

Posted by Laura at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (37) | TrackBacks (0)

J lives in a in a different town. We don't live together and mostly see each other on the weekends. He's busy there, I'm busy here. During the week we talk a lot on the phone and we hang up on each other a lot and laugh about it. And I like to email him. My favorite thing to email him is pictures of meals I cook, especially his favorite dishes, then a picture of an empty plate. Because that's what you do when you care about someone. You torment them.

This past weekend he asked me to go help him pick out a chair for his bedroom because he had a big plasma TV put up and I guess now lying in bed isn't good enough. So I told him I would, even though it was 2000 degrees outside and just walking to the car ignited my hair. I am a hermit in the summer, y'all. We were on our way to a furniture store when I spotted a Pier 1 and wanted to stop to get some kitchen gadget items. I love me some kitchen gadgets. It's a sickness. Anyway, big mistake. I nearly passed out walking across the parking lot to the store and all I could think was that I needed to be at home in front of a fan and I didn't want to be shopping anymore. So we walked into Pier 1 and I looked over and I saw some chairs and I pointed to the first one I saw and said "You need to get that chair and then we can just go home."

J looked at it and said "That's a girl chair" and I told him he needed to stop being so sexist and to get that chair because it was cool and he said "Jesus Christ, Laura, it's not only a girl chair, but it's ugly and you just want me to get it so you can go home." I then told him that it doesn't get manlier than animal hide and that all he needed was a nice accent pillow. He was all "Yeah, an accent pillow called 'another chair.' I'm not getting that ugly chair." and then I called him a sexist cool chair hater and he was all "I knew I shouldn't have asked you to help pick out a chair." and I asked him what the hell that meant and he said something about "blah blah blah (sometimes I don't listen to all the words coming out of his mouth) you decorate with dinosaurs." I tried to act mad about the dinosaur remark so he'd take me home, but I started laughing and then I was suckered into going to the furniture store and picking out a chair. I didn't take a pic of it because it was normal and boring, but all the time we were in the furniture store looking at all the chairs, I would turn up my nose at most of them and say "Meh. It's not as nice as that cool manly chair at Pier 1."

And because I care, I've emailed him this about eight times since Sunday:

Posted by Laura at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (35) | TrackBacks (0)

I know that no one likes traffic and everyone likes to bitch about it, but I swear to God the situation here is out of control. I don't know if it was because it was the first day of school Monday, and all the stay at home moms were on the road picking up "little Johnny" instead of passed out in front of a soap opera, but every car I encountered, and I swear most were mini vans, seemed to do one stupid thing after another. They were all pulling out in front of me, turning with no signal, crossing the center lines; it was insane and the longer I drove the more I could feel veins bulging on my bulbous forehead and my Road Tourette's reaching critical levels. No one really wants to hear a rant, and I really don't like to rant, but sometimes you just get SO ANGRY and when I get SO ANGRY there's just one thing to do- write poetry.

You Really Need To Learn How To Drive
A poem by Laura Ledford

You're a hazard on the road and your driving sucks

I really wish we had flying cars and trucks

But then all you assholes would be in the sky too

And I'd still have to avoid a mid-air collision with you

So I'd arm my flying car with missiles and rockets
and I'd fire them at you
and then I'd hear you scream
and then your car would explode
and I'd see your mutilated body parts
flying up in the air all singed and shit with some of them still on fire
and I'd smile
and then I'd laugh
as your flying car plummeted toward earth
and I'd do a U-turn,
but only after signaling properly,
and I'd napalm the crashed remains just to be sure
and I'd be all "Ha! Pull out in front of me again, motherfucker!"
and I'd keep laughing remembering the look on your face
as you saw my rockets rapidly approaching your flying soccer mommy van
and I'd hold it as one of my most treasured special memories
forever and ever and ever.

Posted by Laura at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (37) | TrackBacks (0)

I love fruit, ripe, sweet fruit. That's about the only thing I like about summer, the abundance of fruit. The grocery store I go to on Sundays has the best selection of fruit in the city. They also have exotic fruits when they are in season, things I have never heard of or tasted. Today I decided to get one because I always have the fear I am missing out on something good just because it looks weird. Fortunately, this is also the theory most of my boyfriends adhered to. Anyway, this series will be called:

I'll Try It So You Don't Have To

Today I choose a Kiwano, or "Horned Melon."

It's native to the Kalahari Desert which kind of scared me because if it's so good, why are there so many starving people in Africa? In prehistoric times the Allosaurus used them like grenades on their prey. I really don't know if that's true, but it sounded good. I would use them as a weapon; the spikes are very sharp.

So I cut it open like the Internet said to and sucked out the stuff in the middle.

It tasted exactly like a kiwi and a cucumber were bred and had a weird gel filled baby. It wasn't very sweet, and it wasn't bitter, it was just "strange." The "fruit" of it is a sac around the seed. Yeah, a gel sac. It just seemed like a big waste of time eating it because there was no juicy sweetness there. It would make a better weapon than a pie.

I rate this Kiwano fruit two I'd Eat It If I Were In The Kalahari Desert And Forgot To Pack Food:

And since I don't plan on going to the Kalahari Desert, and this fruit is not only not sweet but has a weird texture, I also give this two You're Going To Have To Hold A Gun To My Head To Make Me Eat That Shit Again:

Posted by Laura at 09:40 AM | Permalink | Comments (30) | TrackBacks (0)

I love horror movies. I LOVE them. The problem is there are so few good ones made. Last night I went into my iTunes and found that Steve Jobs hadn't stolen all my money so I decided to rent a movie. I always click into the Horror genre first and search for something worthy. I don't pay any attention to the reviews given by other iTune users because the majority of them are illiterate emo kids who haven't even seen the movie. iTunes now has Rotten Tomato reviews on each movie description, so I chose Clive Barker's The Midnight Meat Train based on that. It came out in 2008 but I had never heard about before!

I'm not into Serial Killer horror all that much, like Friday the 13th, Halloween. I'm more of a supernatural/creature horror fan, but I must admit this was a pretty good movie. Excellent gross special effects without too much CGI AND it threw in some creatures! Sure it has some really stupid dialogue in parts, and the characters do some even stupider things, but it will hold your attention to the very end. A plus is it stars Bradley Cooper, who's pretty easy on the eyes. A minus is zombie Brooke Shields is in it, but the minus is cancelled out because she has a tiny role.

I give this movie three Circus Peanuts for keeping my attention with some cool gore

and one Crying Retarded Arnie for showing a heart beating that long outside the body.

Here's a few Four Circus Peanut "off the radar" horror movies I recommend:

Let the Right One In
Antibodies
Three Extremes
[REC]
High Tension
Martyrs

Yes, they are all foreign films. That's because they haven't gone all candy-ass like Hollywood has. If you are aware of a good "off the radar" horror flick, please let me know. I'll give you some of my Circus Peanut stash if it's one I haven't seen before. Who am I kidding? No one gets the CPs, but I will thank you.

Posted by Laura at 01:26 PM | Permalink | Comments (20) | TrackBacks (0)

Posted by Laura at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (40) | TrackBacks (0)

I almost got carjacked yesterday afternoon. I went out to my car and these two were just waiting for me BY MY CAR:

Yes, you read that right, TWO, side by side. Let's step back on the first one and have a look at his web so you can get an idea of its size shall we?

Now let's get a close-up of the other "smaller" one.

Seriously, each one of these spiders, including their legs, was the size of my hand. THE SIZE OF MY HAND. How nasty, icky is that? It's like I'm living on top of an old nuclear waste facility that's leaking.

P.S. J called and said they are "Writing Spiders" and I was all "Yeah, as in writing your death warrant" and he said they weren't poisonous and legend has it that if they write your name you're going to die. I asked him what kind of Nazi Raider's of the Lost Ark bullshit legend was that and was there a pig named Wilbur in it? Then I told him to stop getting his spider science from children's books. I then told him I had to go get my taser and baseball bat, these two weren't writing shit.

P.P.S. J had me Google them and I found out that they aren't venomous and they eat the evil Palmetto Bug. Also, they ARE the type of spider in Charlotte's Web! Who knew Charlotte was so badass? They are spared this time.

P.P.P.S. I asked J if they can be trained to attack people on command and he was all "Okay, first you're afraid of them and want them dead because you think they will hurt you and now you want them as your attack spiders to hurt other people. That's evil" and I said "Well, DUH." I swear to God, sometimes it's like he's never met me before.

Posted by Laura at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (36) | TrackBacks (0)

Posted by Laura at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (33) | TrackBacks (0)

Take these ingredients plus chicken:

Follow this Beer Braised Chicken recipe. While you're at it roast some carrots, Brussels sprouts, and taters. And yes, you have to get a good char on those sprouts.

You're welcome.

Posted by Laura at 05:06 PM | Permalink | Comments (19) | TrackBacks (0)

Co-Worker Sally: "(work related stuff) ...and his name is Stephen King."

Me: "Oh cool, I hope you mean THE Stephen King."

Co-worker Sally: "No, but I wish. You know it's my dream to go on a camping trip with THE Stephen King."

Me: "Really? You mean do the nasty with him in a sleeping bag?"

Co-worker Sally: "No, no. I want to listen to him tell ghost stories around a campfire."

Me: "And then bump uglies on an air mattress?"

Co-worker Sally: "Oh no. God, Laura. I just want to listen to him tell scary stories."

Me: "Dude, he's got that gawd awful accent. You'll be all 'shut up already will ya?' and then he'll just end all the stories with 'and it was a spider'."

Co-worker Sally: "Yeah, you're probably right. Maybe I'll just have sex with him in the tent."

Me: "I thought so, WHORE."

Posted by Laura at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (34) | TrackBacks (0)

I put this video on my sidebar last week. It's a serious matter of course, but the brother makes me laugh.

Then someone set it to auto-tune. Auto-tune is the thingy they use on "singers" like Britney Spears, Kanye West, and many, many others who can't really carry a tune. You will definitely recognize the sound.

Anyway, I have been singing this song for days now. Days. J cracks up when I belt it out. I don't need no stinkin' auto-tune either. I would buy it if it was on iTunes. Seriously.

Posted by Laura at 03:56 PM | Permalink | Comments (24) | TrackBacks (0)

J called me last night and asked how I was and I told him my thumb was still hurting. He told me again to go see a doctor. I told him I didn't want to go and that I thought I had thumb rabies. He was all "There's no such thing as thumb rabies, Laura" and I was all "You don't know that." He said he did know that and then started telling me all about rabies, well, HIS version anyway. But I stopped listening to him right after he said there was no such thing as thumb rabies because all I heard was "blah, blah, blah." When he stopped talking I told him that I should call Make-A-Wish because I think thumb rabies might be fatal and I want to see if I can't be put on the list for a wish before my disease got all gross and shit. He sighed "Don't tell me, you want them to arrange a meeting with Clooney AGAIN" and I could hear his eyes rolling through the phone. I said "That's right and this time they better not hang up on me." Then J told me again that there was no such thing as thumb rabies and that Make-A-Wish was for little kids and that they weren't pimps for celebrities and their stalkers with made-up diseases. Then he made me promise I wouldn't call them. So I promised, but I had my fingers crossed on my good hand behind my back and even though he was on the phone and couldn't see me he said "You have your fingers crossed don't you?" I then called him a witch and told him to stop using his devil magic to spy on me, and he said "No. I just know you." So I said "Well, you know what comes next then" and I hung up on him. And because apparently Make-A-Wish is some kind of adult-hating Nazi group that's prejudiced against people with thumb rabies, I emailed J a wish list so he won't feel all bad when it turns out I do have thumb rabies and he feels all guilty and shit. I am thoughtful like that.

Posted by Laura at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (34) | TrackBacks (0)

Posted by Laura at 04:34 AM | Permalink | Comments (21) | TrackBacks (0)

Me: "What in the hell do you have on your feet?"

Her: "These are my new shoes! You like them?"

Me: Stares

Her: "My son picked them out for me."

Me: "Girl, you didn't tell him that you quit your stripper job?"

Posted by Laura at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (46) | TrackBacks (0)

This comment from Mr. Penis Enlargement was in my spam bucket yesterday:

HELP! I’m currently being held prisoner by the Russian mafia <some big penis site I removed dot com> and being forced to post spam comments on blogs and forum! If you don’t approve this they will kill me. They’re coming back now.  Please send help!  <another big penis site dot com I removed >XX MattLove90

I immediately pictured some poor schmuck with bruises on his face, a bloody lip, sitting in front of an old computer in a dirty old abandoned warehouse somewhere with a big Russian dude standing next to him in a suit holding a gun against his temple saying "You write comment now or I shoot and you better hope it be published. We have plenty big dick pills to sell" in a thick Russian accent. And this image made me laugh. Does that make me a bad person? No, it makes me an accessory to murder and I'm okay with that because it's a spammer. Rest in peace MattLove90. Your pain is over, motherfucker.

Posted by Laura at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (33) | TrackBacks (0)

I watched the movie "Hot Tub Time Machine" this past weekend. I was hoping it would be at least a little bit humorous. It wasn't. I was very disappointed in John Cusack. I may have to knock him off of my Imaginary Boyfriend List for not only starring in this, but also being one of the producers. He's going to have to show some full frontal nudity in his next flick to make up for this mess. I was hoping it would have at least a few laughs in it like "The Hangover" but alas, no. I am giving this movie three Crying Retarded Arnies:

and one Crying Paula Abdul, because nothing's more retarded than that:

Oh, and since Cusack is about to get voted off of my Imaginary Boyfriend Island, and even if he doesn't, I'm a big 'ole imaginary whore anyway, I am adding Alexander Skarsgard aka "Eric Northman" to it:

He plays a mean vampire on True Blood and he's absolutely gorgeous. I don't know what it is about these dudes playing vampires lately that I like so well. Yeah I know they're all pale and shit, but I'd gladly fluff the sheets to find this one.

Posted by Laura at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (32) | TrackBacks (0)

Posted by Laura at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (25) | TrackBacks (0)

J and I were in Target the other day and I told him I needed to get vitamins. I hate vitamins. I am probably this country's biggest waster of vitamins. I am the BP of vitamins. I don't think I have ever finished a bottle in my life. Most are thrown out years after their expiration dates with barely any missing. But I knew I needed to get some so I thought I'd try ONE MORE TIME. You know, how you always think "this time is different, I mean it!" Well, that's me and vitamins. So, anyway, I was looking at all the bottles, checking out the "% Daily Value" shit, pretending I knew what the hell I was looking at, thinking I'd be a vitamin scientist after this and J's getting all impatient and bored and is all "They're probably all the same, get one that says for 'Women' on the label." And I'm all "No those suck and make me sick." I don't do iron, y'all. Then he'd point to another and I'd read the box and be all "Those will probably make me sick too. And they're too big, I'll choke on them." I swear to God, they were the size of poker chips. And he's all "Just get some One-A-Days and slip one in a Circus Peanut like you put Jack's meds in a Snausage!" Then he laughed and was all happy with himself for making a funny and being snarky even though he knows good and well I am detoxing off of Circus Peanuts. I rolled my eyes at him and then thought to myself (because I would never tell him), "Hmm that's kind of a pretty good idea." So I made my selection and threw them in the buggy and J shut up and just shook his Freedom Hating head.

P.S. I think having the dinosaurs pose with the bottle is pure genius, even if I do have to say so myself. J said I probably do have to. Gah. He's become so mouthy since becoming a Nazi.

Posted by Laura at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (30) | TrackBacks (0)

Blogging is going to start being sporadic around here. Some of you may know that I used to be a lean, mean, running machine. Between Cheetos and Circus Peanuts and having a job that burns about 20 calories a day, I pretty much destroyed and buried that bitch. Well I miss her and want her back, so today I registered for a marathon. Yes, money has been spent, plans have been made, and a DNR has been completed. I have nine months to get into some kind of shape that won't have a paramedic following me the whole way. I will still be updating my links almost daily and will still blog when I can. Perhaps shorter blurbs, I don't know. I'm not quitting, just slowing down. I want to thank each and every one of you for reading my crazy shit and supporting my attention whore-ness, and hope you will continue to stick around. This is where I will be spending most of my evenings:

Posted by Laura at 04:02 PM | Permalink | Comments (41) | TrackBacks (0)

I can't even explain my absence. It's like my couch is a portal of some kind and I lose huge chunks of time there. When I wake up my butt doesn't hurt so I don't think I'm being abducted by aliens or anything like that. The animals don't seem to have been affected because they've all been in some kind of mischief so it's not a gas leak. It's like my whole vacation I've been slipped date rape drugs without the date. Weird.

I may not have had the date, but I got the dinner. I made Cincinnati Chili. As a kid, my mom used to take us to Skyline Chili restaurant and I would eat this stuff like it was cocaine and I wasn't five. A bunch of Greeks ran the place and it was EXACTLY like that sketch on SNL, were they were loud and screaming at each other constantly and throwing things. This is when I learned that all foreigners are scary, but they make good food. This stuff is so good that I can't even begin to tell you how good because you will throw yourselves out of windows and shit because you don't have any. Oh, speaking of which, I watched a documentary on Dr. Kevorkian the other day and it reminded me of a friend I had, Elizabeth. Elizabeth and I were best of friends and pretty much shared the same ideology. We promised each other that should the other get really sick and in pain first and was unable to do it for ourselves we would perform the "final exit" for the other because you couldn't depend on, or even really ask, a relative to kill you. We were both redheads and everyone knows redheads have no souls. So that was all settled until one day I had a really bad ingrown nail and she came at me with a pillow to smother me so I fired her as my "death friend." So now I'm taking applications, but I have to be specific that I MUST BE TERMINAL or really, really fucked up otherwise my inbox is going to be overflowing.

Now here's the recipe for the chili because I may be soulless and don't believe in Hell, but I don't want to be responsible for you all hurting yourselves, you know, in case I'm wrong.

Posted by Laura at 03:21 PM | Permalink | Comments (25) | TrackBacks (0)

I am really amazed by how many people have a talk show and how many judges there are on TV. It's been a long time since I've been home during the day and I really think that people who do it full time deserve some kind of medal or at least extra pyschological benefits on their health insurance policies. Another thing that surprises me is the number of "dating" shows there are. And by "dating" shows I mean shows where a bunch of women show up, then whore themselves to some kind of loser "star" that's not really a star at all but a wannabe or a has-been. When did prostitution become legal and televised? I really think that whoring should stay where it was meant to be, in truck stops and college sororities.

I've had every intention of cleaning my house while I'm off work and NOT IN CALIFORNIA, heavy duty stuff, like closet cleaning and shit. But I think there's a gas leak in my house because I always end up unconscious on my couch. And then when I wake up, I have to see if Sha'nika is finally going to tell Ray J that she used to be a stripper and she still lives with her baby daddy. Then the gas fumes overcome me again and the next thing you know another day went by and I haven't cleaned a thing and I'm Tivo'ing reruns of "Disaster Date" and I realize the only way I'm going to get to California is to whore myself on a reality show but I can't even make it to an audition because I'm unconscious on my couch. It's a vicious cycle.

Posted by Laura at 07:26 PM | Permalink | Comments (35) | TrackBacks (0)

It's been a while since you all have had a Crazy Betty update, but Sunday afternoon I heard sirens and looked out and there were firemen running up to her house. I didn't see any flames or smoke, and I'm not sure if insanity is flammable or what, so I really don't know if her house was on fire in there or if she took a crazy ride to Imaginary Brimstone Land and she called 911. Anyway, it was nice to see the firemen being all fireman-y, which means hawt. If I hadn't just woke up from my Couchland vacation to the sound of sirens and Jack barking and had had time to brush the Cheetos out of my hair, I may have casually walked outside, you know, to see if I could be of any assistance as I arched my back and licked my lips.

Oh, and have you all ever gone into YouTube and noticed the links to other videos on the side so you click them and you're all "what the hell?" because the next thing you know you're watching a video of someone getting a giant boil lanced and you're all "Fuck that's gross" but you keep clicking one after another of all the related videos then you're searching "giant cysts lanced" and pretty soon you're thinking "These aren't that gross." and you know you've just desensitized yourself to pus and you think "Wow this is what Paris Hilton's boyfriends must do."

Now here's the second day of my vacation that I am not spending in California:

Posted by Laura at 05:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (31) | TrackBacks (0)

Posted by Laura at 09:30 AM | Permalink | Comments (16) | TrackBacks (0)

So J came over the other day and I was all laid out on the couch with a wet washcloth on my face holding my stomach and moaning and he asked me if I was sick. "No." I said, "I usually lay on my couch with a wet washcloth on my face holding my stomach and moaning." Then he looked at the coffee table and he saw a half eaten bag of Circus Peanuts and he's all "Damn, Laura, you know those make you sick. Why in the hell do you eat them?" I lowered my washcloth and explained to him that they are delicious and that they called out to me with their orangey artificial flavored sugary marshmallowy evilness in the check-out line at the grocery store and I was too weak to resist. Then he's all "Oh My God did you eat half the bag in one sitting?" And I screamed at him to stop shaming me but he started to laugh and said "They make those things for children whose taste buds haven't even developed." I told him to stop laughing at my pain and he said "What did you eat for lunch?" And through my washcloth I said "THOSE WERE MY LUNCH." Then he wasn't even trying to hide his laughter. And I'm all "Shut the fuck up, dude, it's not funny and just get rid of the rest please, I never want to see them again." But he wouldn't let it go and says "You live your life like you're twelve and your parents left you alone for the weekend." and he laughed harder. At this point I really wanted to stab him, but I was too dizzy to get up off the couch and find a knife so I just told him to shut the hell up and that I really meant it this time. Then from under the washcloth I heard cellophane rattling and I lifted the edge of the cloth in the direction of the noise and it's J closing the bag of Circus Peanuts and heading towards the kitchen and the trash can. "Wait!" I yelled. He stopped in his tracks and turned and I said "Before you throw those away, hand me a few." He didn't. Circus Peanut Nazi.

Posted by Laura at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (37) | TrackBacks (0)

Me: (hearing a garbage truck) "Those damn garbage men better stop and empty my trash!"

J: "Why wouldn't they?"

Me: "Sometimes they don't stop and empty my Herbie Curbie because they 'pretend' they don't see it because I have shrubs along that side. Pisses me off. I practically place my Herbie right to the edge of the road just so they will see it."

J: "I'm sure they'll stop, Laura."

Me: (heading out the door) "Well I'm going to go check. You'll know if they did or not if I come back cussing."

J: "No I won't."

Now here's a picture of Jack finding Jesus again. He certainly gets lost a lot.

Posted by Laura at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (33) | TrackBacks (0)

I forgot to tell you all, but last week it happened to me AGAIN. Someone wanted me to look at pictures of their new grandkid! As you know, I don't care for babies and I pretty much think newborns are hideous looking creatures. The only good thing about this experience was my friend just had pictures, no actual baby was present. So, she's all "Oh my God look at my new grandson!" and she thrust the photos in my face. I took them from her and the first pic was of her daughter in a bikini when she was about 25 months pregnant. I said "JESUS CHRIST!" and my friend looked at me and said "What?" "Oh, I just find it odd that pregnant women want to show their bulge, that's all." and I swallowed the bile that had collected in the back of my throat. "Yeah. I guess I should take that picture out." she said.

I flipped to the next photo and there was a newborn with it's face all scrunched up, wearing a hat and wrapped in a blanket. I flipped to the next and it appeared to be in some kind of incubator and was again wrapped up with a hat on. I said "There aren't any jello shots in here are there?" My friend cocked her head and said "Jello shots?" "Yeah, where they just popped out of the factory with red jello like shit all over them and you can see the factory doors in the background." I was promised there were no "Learning Channel" shots, so I started looking through the rest of them. I finally came to some where you could see it's head and it had a lot of hair for a baby, so that was good.

Now, like I told you before when I am forced into a reaction over someone's baby, or baby photos I will usually just say "Look at those tiny hands." and make an exit. But I didn't see any of it's hands! I knew I had to say something as I was handing the photos back to her. My brain raced. She reached for the photos as she looked me in the eyes, smiling. I opened my mouth, then quickly closed it. She said "Isn't he just the cutest?" I thought of his full head of hair and big round head and said "He's nicely formed."

Posted by Laura at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (24) | TrackBacks (0)

Unlike J, Jack loves freedom.

Posted by Laura at 01:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (23) | TrackBacks (0)

I was walking Jack the other morning while the temps were only in the mid 90's. We were walking past one of the many "colorful" houses on the outskirts of my neighborhood. And by "colorful" I mean "total crack house." Anyway, we're walking along and I noticed a strange, wild haired, squinting man standing on the porch smoking a cigarette and staring. The porch was decorated with a dirty stained-by-God-only-knows-what living room sofa and a matching recliner with a wonky broken back that was leaning to the left. He nodded his head and said "Hey" and I nodded back and said "Hey" and then I had to stop momentarily to yank Jack off of an empty case of Sudafed sitting by the road. The man walked towards the edge of his porch and said "Evah thought bout breedin'?"

It could have been my over-sized Popsicle stained USC t-shirt with the sexy sweat stain that was forming a V at the neckline, or my ratty hair that I threw up into a scrunchie without the benefit of a brush that caught his one good eye. I was a vision to behold. My look screamed "I'm Britney-off-her-meds-crazy, bitch, and I need some lovin'."

"Umm no thanks, I'm kind of in a relationship and I..."

"Your dawg," he yelled. "Have you evah thought bout breedin' dat dawg? My sistah-in-lah has a gurl weinah dawg."

"Oh. No, he's neutered. Fixed. Uh, castrated." I sputtered back, relieved, yet oddly disappointed that he didn't mean what I first thought he meant.

"Damn shame. He's a nice lookin' weinah dawg." Then he turned and went back in his house because, I assume, his latest batch of meth was ready. I looked down and Jack was looking up at me. And I said "Dude, you totally got propositioned, and you're welcome."

P.S. OH MY GOD, ya'll! George Clooney nominated me for Best Humor Blog! I told you he was reading me! Ha! I was all "What the hell?" but then the Attention Whore in me kicked in and I am now going to pimp for votes! Soon I will be making outrageous campaign promises! You have to sign up once, then VOTE FOR ME because the more attention I get, the closer I get to Clooney happier I am! Click this thingie here:

A vote for me is a vote for FREEDOM! Thank you for your support and attention.

** You will not get spam for signing up at that site. Just uncheck the box that asks if you want updates when you create your account.

Posted by Laura at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (30) | TrackBacks (0)

I'm taking off work on Friday so I'll have a four day weekend. I don't really know what I'll be doing. All I know is, I'M NOT GOING TO CALIFORNIA. And right now I'm posting random shit for your viewing pleasure.

I submitted my neighbor's Mr. Roboto House to Life's Highway Game.

You send in pics of people's lovely lawn ornaments, such as gnomes, flamingos, robots and whatever and you collect points. It's a fun site to look at even if you don't play. But I recommend playing. I am now on the look out in my hood. It's amazing what people think is "attractive decor." Speaking of which...

Did you know I'm a total freak for polka-dots? Well, I am. Ticky tacky, I don't care. I bought a new polka-dot shower curtain a few weeks ago and just today found these and polka-dotted one wall. It turned out really cool and if I get sick of them, I'm not committed to them. They can be easily removed without damaging the wall. I did not take a picture of the whole room because I did not feel like cleaning it up or photoshopping it clean. FACT. Oh, and I want one of the trees for my living room HERE.

The Betta Fish (I was spelling it Beta and badgers were crying all over North America, but what else is new?) has a fantastic home now and my friend loves him and has named him "Monkey Butt" which is a totally awesome name for a fish. I am fish sitting Monkey Butt next week and will try to get some cool pics. I know you all can't wait!

I made cupcakes for work. I could lie and say I made them from scratch but I didn't. They were from a box and the icing is canned. Yeah, I went the easy route. But it was hard making the ground glass look like sprinkles. "Happy 4th everyone! Oh, you appear to have some hemorrhaging going on there, let me get you a napkin." I KID! I KID! Simmah down.

And lastly, Jack's birthday is on the fourth of July. He said he wanted a trip to California, more specifically he said he wanted me to go to California. He really did. No shit. He said that.

Posted by Laura at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (30) | TrackBacks (0)

My thumb has been hurting me for months now. I haven't gone to the doctor about it because well, it just hurts when I move it a certain way or when I press on it for hours trying to figure out just where it hurts. I have casually said to everyone who will listen to me "my thumb has hurt for months." They all start out looking at me with concern and say "Oh, maybe it's arthritis." And I'm all "What the fuck? Why are you giving me an old person disease?" Then they all say, "Maybe it's from overuse." And I say, "Gee, I don't hitchhike that much." and roll my eyes at them. They then get all agitated at me and gruffly say "Well, go see a doctor." And I explain that a doctor will just tell me to get an x-ray. And they all snap "Well, then go get an x-ray!" And all I can say is "I don't want an x-ray." Then they all just stare at me for a few minutes and then walk away. All rude and shit. It's like no one cares.

Posted by Laura at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (33) | TrackBacks (0)

We've had a bad storm amost every day for two weeks. It doesn't cool the place down either. Oh contraire, mon fraire! It makes it even more tropical and stifling. We've started huricane season too. This year they're predicting a bad season, but they predicted that last year and we didn't have one hurricane. The weathermen are usually wrong anyway. Weather Science doesn't seem too reliable. So this year I'm going to go by Wonky Nipple Science. And who has the ultimate pop-up turkey timer wonky nipples? Why Britney Spears of course. This was the latest photo I saw of her:

Here's a closer look:

According to the Britney's Wonky Nipple Doppler Radar System I better go stock up on toilet paper and bread.

Posted by Laura at 09:27 AM | Permalink | Comments (21) | TrackBacks (0)

I hate going to those chain pet stores where the workers feel a strong need to converse with me about my animals. Don't get me wrong, I love talking about my animals but these yoyos try to "advise me" on the care and training of my pets. Ugh. I want to beat them with a flip flop. Does this annoy everyone or is it just me? Maybe it's just me because I was a vet tech years ago and if I have a question, I certainly would not ask an employee of a commercial pet shop. I would ask my veterinarian. Am I cranky? Yes, I am. It's 2,000 degrees today and I had to go to the pet store for parrot food. It's the only place that sells Herman's fancy birdie food. While I was there I turned and saw the Beta fish looking all sad in their cup of water. So to do my part, I got one to give to a friend who once had a Beta for like eight years and just recently said she wanted another. I told her I'd get her one. I took a pic:

Now I'm going to go have a Popsicle, a blue one. I don't know what food group that represents. I don't care. I think I have heat stroke. Or rabies. I'm basically a shut-in during these hot summer months, AND SINCE I'M NOT GOING TO CALIFORNIA I'll see you this weekend. That is, if you're not too busy playing polo OR GOING TO CALIFORNIA.

Posted by Laura at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (38) | TrackBacks (0)

So it's hotter than the surface of the Sun here and I told J we should take a vacation because we never take vacations. He thought I meant to the mountains for a few days but I said "No, I want to go to California" and he's all "What's in California?" I told him I liked Southern California, particularly San Diego. It's not humid there and we could drive to LA and stay for a few days too. Then he's all "Oh, I get it. You want to go to Hollywood where Clooney lives." And I said "Hollywood is where a lot of movie stars live." Duh. Then he said he really can't take much time off because he's all important and busy and besides he wasn't going to take off work so I could stalk George Clooney. I tried to tell him that if I wanted to stalk Clooney we had better go to Italy and then he said he'd take me to DOLLYWOOD Tennessee to maybe see a star and ride a roller coaster but that's it and then he laughed. Maniacally. This pissed me off so I told him to forget it. But I didn't forget it. I started emailing him pictures and travel deals to California, hundreds, nay, thousands of them, all day long. Finally he sent me an email back that read he really couldn't take me to California, maybe in the fall, and to please stop sending him all the California spam. So I did. But not before drawing and sending him this:

Posted by Laura at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (28) | TrackBacks (0)

I just got an email saying I've been banned from another Columbia news site forum. That was the last one, four all together. I swear I didn't do anything. All I did was comment on a story featuring a police artist's sketch of a robbery suspect:

Here was my comment or something similar that the freedom haters deleted:

Jesus H. Christ. Who does these suspect drawings for the police department? The "slow" capuchin monkey at Riverbanks Zoo, or the police chief's four year old nephew? No wonder they never apprehend anyone.

Well, they can have all their stupid ass news forums. I don't need them. I'll be busy anyway, working on my portfolio for the new job I'll be applying for.

Posted by Laura at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (25) | TrackBacks (0)

So I dragged J to the grocery store with me the other day because I didn't want to go by myself because I think one of the weird bagboys wants me dead. He always asks me if I want paper or plastic and when I tell him plastic, because fuck the environment- I need kitty litter poop bags, he kind of lets out a disgusted sigh and then gives me the stink eye like he's picturing holding a plastic bag over my head and then after I stop struggling, stuffing my body in one of the large recycle bins out back the whole time he's bagging my groceries. J told me I needed to stop imaging that everyone wants me dead, but I suspect J just wants me to drop my guard. If you know what I mean.

So we're at the store and I told J I needed something in the Mexican aisle and he was all "Cool, I love Mexican food" and I said "That's nice, maybe Taco Bell will be open when we get out of here" and I started looking through the dollar Mexican Catholic Voodoo Candles and found one and put it in the cart and J pulled it out and was all "What the hell is this?" and I told him it was an Anti-Stink Eye Mexican Catholic Voodoo Candle and then he asked me what I was going to do with it and I told him that that weird bagboy was going to rue the day he ever gave me the stink eye and J just kind of rolled his eyes and then we got a big box of popsicles near the frozen food aisle. When we went to check out, the weird bagboy wasn't there and I leaned over to J and said "That's how powerful Mexican Catholic Voodoo is" and he said "Good, because I'm never going grocery shopping with you again." Religious freedom hater.

Posted by Laura at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (26) | TrackBacks (0)

I was in the book store this morning idly looking through their doodad stuff. I was looking through the bins filled with key covers and rhinestoned calculators when I saw a section filled with pocket Jesus and Buddhas. Several boxes of the pocket Jesuses (Jesi?) were opened with the Jesus missing. Stolen. Someone stole Jesus. A $4.99 Jesus. On a Sunday. I hope God smites them to death with his giant flip flop. Amen.

P.S. Here's how I envision the smite:

Posted by Laura at 12:40 PM | Permalink | Comments (20) | TrackBacks (0)

I woke up this morning all cranky and shit. Maybe I had a bad dream. I don't know. Ever feel like you could just kill someone? But in a big way. Like do it to where it would make the news. You'd have to do it and put a strange twist on it to make the news now a days. Maybe, I don't know, kill someone with your shoe, a flip flop, then turn it upon yourself. But who wants to hurt themselves? With a flip flop of all things. Only a crazy person would do that. I think I am really bad at planning homicide. I'm probably better at spontaneous murder. And I would never turn the weapon upon myself. Does this make me a bad person? No. Well, yes. What? But who the fuck cares what it makes you when you want to kill someone. I think that pretty much sets the mood of your day, don't you agree? What the fuck? I just woke up and I have a headache so all I can think about is murder. And pancakes. I'm going to murder a stack of pancakes and devour them like Jeffrey Dahmer and I'll get over it. I hope. Fuck. I don't have any pancake mix. But that's okay, because now I'm a cereal killer. My head feels better. The world is safe. For now. I'm wearing my flip flops, so be careful.

P.S. Those are Fruity Cheerios because Cheerios are healthier than Fruit Loops. Ever notice how the word "healthier" means "suckier" in almost everything in life?

Posted by Laura at 08:01 AM | Permalink | Comments (18) | TrackBacks (0)

I just got home. This is the mess I walked in to find. It was up on the table, but apparently he's recruited Thelma's help and she delivered Mean Kitty to his doom. It was like a scene out of "Turistas" minus the blood, screams, and bad acting.

It's been a yucky week with a sinus infection, heat from hell, and doodles galore. Monday I'll have another military story for you all since you suffered with me through my "stick figure days." Oh, and we mustn't forget "Nipplegate." Blogging about Britney Spears' nipples? I hit an all time low, even for me. But I was delirious with fever. Yeah, that's it. It was the fever.

Oh, and again, I want to thank everyone for their well wishes, both here and in email. You guys rock. Seriously. No one listens to me whine and complain like you guys. Well, J does, kind of. He usually just rolls his eyes and tunes me out and pretends to listen though. Then there's my manicurist. But I don't think she knows English. And I pay her. And besides, I think she secretly hates me. So she doesn't count. That bitch.

Now let's all hold hands and lower our heads and pray Perez Hilton goes to jail.

Posted by Laura at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (27) | TrackBacks (0)

Apparently one of the symptoms of this crud I have is drawing bad doodles. The good news here is it's cooled down to 98 degrees. Burrr. Oh, and thanks for all the well wishes everyone, I am feeling better and on the mend, really.

Curtal Friar at Fountain Abbey wrote an entry all about Stick Science in honor of the fact I was the 500th commenter there. It's excellent. I think he's going for his scientifical PhD. Go have a read.

LeeAnn at Look! A Baby Wolf! got a new site. She left Blogger, which by the way people, if you're on Blogger, it's a pain in the ass to comment. Just saying.

Here's another pic I took of Jack and his rawhide using my Hipstamatic app on my iPhone. Did you all know I have an iPhone? Well, I do.

And finally, I watched this video today and my head nearly exploded from the badger cuteness, oh, and the sinus pressure:

Posted by Laura at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (20) | TrackBacks (0)

I feel like I'd have to get better to die. The antibiotics are kicking my ass. Apparently I'm allergic to them. I won't go into detail. No one wants to hear that shit so I rendered you a drawing:

That's me with my bulbous head and Sexy Bitch t-shirt. I figured if a picture painted a thousand words, this is my longest entry yet.

I'm sorry I had to be so graphic. Here's a picture of a baby badger to help erase the previous shocking image from your mind:

P.S. I have to stop eating so many green popsicles.

Posted by Laura at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (29) | TrackBacks (0)

I have a raging sinus infection and a fever. At least I think I have a fever. It's hard to tell when it's over 100 degrees outside and your house can only cool to 80. The only thermometer I own is one in an old fish tank and that's not going anywhere near my body because I'll probably get fish VD or something from it. I should have bought a thermometer at the pharmacy when I was there picking up my prescriptions, but the place smelled like sweaty ass from the sickly people waiting in line to get their fish VD drugs and all I wanted to do was to go home and stand in front of the refrigerator and eat popsicles. I'm pretty sure I do have a fever because I was surfing the Internets and came upon a story about Britney Spears dating her manager. Whatever. What caught my eye were Britney's wonky nipples. In every picture you ever see of her braless, her nipples are always pointing in different directions. It's like they hate each other and are trying constantly to be as far away as possible from each other, but are forced to live in the same house. Or like lazy eye nipples. One staring at you while the other's all googly and shit. It's confusing.

I found it comforting though, that in this country you can be totally untalented and insane and have wonky nipples and still be relevant and make millions of dollars. It gives me hope for us all. Whatever the hell that means.

Posted by Laura at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (26) | TrackBacks (0)

I watched two of the shittiest movies I've seen in a long time this weekend. The first one was "Shutter Island" with Leonardo DiCaprio. Now I have to admit, every time I see Leonardo I always picture him as Arnie, Johnny Depp's mentally handicapped brother in "What's Eating Gilbert Grape," so it takes a few minutes to get Leonardo Retardo out of my head. The movie would have been better if he was Arnie in it, perhaps named it Stutter Island and be done with it. I can't stand that fake New England gangster accent actors always want to do when they play cops. Anyway, the whole thing was easy to figure out (HE'S THE PATIENT, duh) and you couldn't care less either way when it was all said and done.

I give this movie two Crying Arnies for wasting two hours of my life:

And one Happy Arnie With A Bug for the scene where his wife burned in his arms which was pretty cool:

The second one was "Legion" where God sends down his angels to smite the hell out of us. One angel, Michael, tries to help some whore waitress so she can have her baby and save mankind. Watch Dogma much? They show the waitress smoking cigarettes while she's all big and fat preggers and this was to tell us she didn't care about the baby. But to reinforce that fact she tells us she went to an abortion clinic but "something" told her to leave. Oh, the only good part of this movie is that I got to see Caleb from American Gothic all grown up. Remember him? He was the dude who loved the whore in this catastrophe of a movie. Anyway, God wants us all dead and the only explanation is "he's tired of the bullshit" and instead of just twitching his nose or nodding his head, he sends all his angels to kill us, except Michael decides he loves people and wants to help. I watched it to see some pissed off angels kick our ass but to my disappointment they just possessed people and got little pointy teeth. You do get to see a pretty good brawl between Michael and Gabriel. The most amazing thing though was the birth that took two minutes and two big pushes. Then she wouldn't hold the baby until Michael said something deep like "you're the mother." Then she was right back on her feet being stupid and holding the baby she suddenly lurved so much. The birthing doesn't stop a thing, except that the baby's cries hurt the angels' ears, so you figure it's kind of like Terminator where the kid has to grow up first then save the world. So you're all "what the fuck?" and it ends after Michael bitch slaps Gabriel. The battle doesn't end, the movie does. Yeah. So this movie is all one big "what the fuck?"

I can't even rate this movie it was so bad, but I will give it one clue on how God really would end mankind:

Posted by Laura at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (24) | TrackBacks (0)

Yes, weekend entries are all about pet and food pictures. There's not any food pics to take because it's so fucking hot here I don't want to cook. This is going to be a summer of living on popsicles and frozen waffles. I buy those gigantic boxes of different colored popsicles because then it's like you cover all the food groups and shit. Red is meat and green is broccoli, like that. Mind over matter. If you don't mind passing out a lot and developing diabetes, it doesn't matter.

P.S. Apparently Big Mean Kitty is a time traveler!

Posted by Laura at 10:27 AM | Permalink | Comments (11) | TrackBacks (0)

He was underneath the entertainment center.

Posted by Laura at 07:40 AM | Permalink | Comments (18) | TrackBacks (0)

You know what I don't understand? I don't understand people thinking newborn babies are cute who aren't related to them. I seriously don't. I understand completely the parents and grandparents finding them perfect, but a non-relative? I don't get it. Newborns are ugly. They all look like a tiny Winston Churchill if Winston Churchill was conceived at Chernobyl, wrinkled and blotchy with misshapen heads.

Throughout my life friends and coworkers have had babies and then showed them off like they just bought an iPhone. "Oh, look at my baby! Just look at my baby!" I have seen all the other women ohhing and ahhing over the babies, and when they've been thrust in my face my standard reply is "Oh a baby, look at its small hands." Instead of saying what I am really thinking "Jesus Fucking Christ, is that normal?" Am I missing the "babies are adorable" gene? No, I don't think so. I think all you oohers and ahhers are lying your fucking heads off. I think you're just being polite thinking "Hmm, one day I may thrust my baby or grandbaby in their faces and they better repay the compliment." Yeah, you all aren't fooling me anymore.

From now on when someone forces me to look at their baby, I am going to hand them a business card I made up just for the occasion because they don't ever have to repay that favor to me:

Now here's a cute baby:

Ahh, look at the adorable widdle, bitty baby!

Posted by Laura at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (30) | TrackBacks (0)

From time to time I like to make recommendations on here, I mean besides recommending that George Clooney call me. If you have an iPhone, like I do, you're always on the lookout for cool apps. I just bought the Hipstamatic app and have been taking some cool photos. Well, I think they're cool anyway, and that's what matters.

Did you know I have an iPhone? Well, I do. Did you know they are coming out with the latest version next month? Well they are. Everyone of ya'll need to get one. Just do it so you can become an annoying douchebag and tell everyone who will listen that you have an iPhone. It's fun.

I've had a very busy weekend. And I'm not even talking about all the cooking and baking and hiding cupcakes. No, I'm talking about starting a remodel on a house. Yes, a new house on an oak-lined street! I call it "That 70's Porn House" because it has orange shag carpet, and one of the largest, funkiest, Moroccan style sunken tubs I have ever seen. YES! Moroccan. Gah. When I look at it, bad porno music starts playing in my head and I picture Ron Jeremy splashing away in it. Yeah, eww. Of course, the tub and carpeting has to go. It needs a complete kitchen remodel and hardwood floors will be placed throughout. The house sat empty for a long time and needs a lot of work, but it is a total diamond in the rough. I may post photos after the work is done. You all will be going "Jesus Fucking Christ, not more photos showing the tile she has in the pool dressing room." Yes a pool changing room. It's that kind of house. Now here's a picture of the back where shrubs grew wild and of the pool prior to draining and cleaning:

P.S. In case you're wondering about the title of this entry go HERE and then HERE. If you already know or don't give a shit where the title came from, here's a picture of some baby badgers:

Posted by Laura at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (24) | TrackBacks (0)

J came over for lunch and I made Sloppy Joes from THIS recipe. I picked that recipe because it has over two thousand positive reviews. It was delicious. I highly recommend you make it. Next time I'll try it with ground turkey. The fries I made by slicing up baking potatoes and coating them with some olive oil, diced garlic, diced rosemary, kosher salt and pepper. Place them in a single layer on a baking sheet and bake at 400 degrees for 30 minutes, then turn them over and bake for another 20 minutes. They were also awesome.

I have to go now. J is trying to find the cupcakes I hid. Where's my taser?

Posted by Laura at 01:24 PM | Permalink | Comments (14) | TrackBacks (0)

Yes, I made that cupcake. And yes, I ate it. Usually I will cook his favorite meal, which is Parmesan Chicken, and send him a picture of it, then one of the empty plate. I am so romantical. I should seriously be a couple's counselor.

Posted by Laura at 01:26 PM | Permalink | Comments (12) | TrackBacks (0)

First I want to complain about the heat, because that's what Sheri, and LeeAnn, and Joan, and I have decided to do a lot of this summer. Y'all it is just too fucking hot. I seriously think I'm going to burst into flames when I walk outside. This weather will even worsen here in South Carolina and stay until November. I plan on doing a video where I fry an egg on the sidewalk this summer. You'll probably hear a big thud in it as I pass out filming in the heat. Then the paramedics will have to use a big ole' spatula to scoop me off the cement. And people will run out of their houses with bread and mayo because they smell bacon frying. Seriously. I hope the paramedics arrive before I'm crispy.

There's a lady at work on Alli. It's a diet medication that makes fat indigestable, thus helping people to lose weight. I first mentioned it on Advice Asylum when I walked into the bathroom after St. Patrick's Day and the bathroom smelled like beef stew. Apparently, because you can't digest food properly, it exits like it went in. Now the bathroom smells like a buffet at the Golden Corral and it grosses me out even more than the regular odors there.

Speaking of Advice Asylum and the bathroom, I did an entry about the cost of toilet paper. Goddamn. Over nine dollars for a six pack of Charmin. We're all in the wrong business. Unless you're in the toilet paper business, then you're sitting pretty. And if you are in the TP business, can I get a discount?

Now here's a picture of baby badgers that will literally make your head explode from the adorable:

If you're not seeing some gray matter splattered on your screen, take a gander at this picture of a baby badger with a baby otter:

Posted by Laura at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (28) | TrackBacks (0)

Me: "Another blog I have been reading for years just announced today that they are going to stop blogging. This is the third blogger in my favorites this month who has stopped blogging."

J: "Why did this one stop? Did they say?"

Me: "Well, most of the bloggers say the same things, and they're true. Blogging takes up a lot of time, you have to deal with writer's block, and you're not even sure that the people are reading. This last blogger was friends with some B-List bloggers and she said she was happy for their success, what with book deals and conferences and swag, but she was tired of nothing happening for her and she had real life stuff to do."

J: "Book deals and swag? Hey, that would be sweet. It would be good if your blog paid for its bandwidth and domain."

Me: "Shit, I'm just happy my blog doesn't get me arrested."

Posted by Laura at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (32) | TrackBacks (0)

Posted by Laura at 01:45 PM | Permalink | Comments (14) | TrackBacks (0)

In my excitement to announce that GEORGE CLOONEY READS MY BLOG I had forgotten to remind you all again that May is Zombie Awareness Month. If you follow that link, they have a blog and they are always having giveaways. I entered a giveaway to win a Zombie Cross-Stitch Kit. To win it you had to tell them who you would give one of the completed patterns to. This was my entry:

I would make it and give it to my meemaw. My meemaw is dead, but I am certain I will see her again, like, after the apocalypse. I would give it to her right before I bust a cap in her head, that way I won’t feel so bad. I would also take it back after, if it wasn’t too splattered, so I would have something of Meemaw’s to remember her by.

Keep your fingers crossed that I win. I'll find out later today I think. If I win it, I will hold one back for my zombie meemaw and then give away a completed one on here. Don't worry I won't bust a cap in your head after, I mean, unless you're a zombie or really irritating.

Now this is for George. It's a video that shows us together, George. We make a great couple. Don't pay any attention to my head floating in the air there. It does that sometimes.

Thanks again to my friend Sheri Gilmour who created these most excellent videos and believes that George and I belong together and she owns an iPhone. I also own an iPhone. Just saying. Call me, George Clooney.

Posted by Laura at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (16) | TrackBacks (0)

UPS delivered this today after work. It's from J. Isn't he amazing? The Pteranodon too.

Posted by Laura at 05:08 PM | Permalink | Comments (10) | TrackBacks (0)

My Deputy Junior Science Assistant, CBullitt, over at Soylent Green posted a picture for me. It was suggested in the comments that someone photoshop Jack in the basket instead of Toto. Of course I thought that was a great idea, and while I was in Photoshop I thought I'd go ahead and put my bulbous head in for good measure. Thanks, Deputy!

This is totally what I'll look like when the Zombie Apocalypse occurs. Yeah. Totally.

Posted by Laura at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (25) | TrackBacks (0)

I am so pissed! I wrote a big, long entry about qualifying with the hand grenade in basic training and my browser crashed and I lost it. I sure did. *Poof* Fuck! It was a long, rambling story like the war stories my papaw would tell, except my story didn't take place during wartime and I didn't kill any "Japs", or "get the clap from a whorehouse in Okinawa." It's probably all for the best that I lost it. No one wanted to listen to Papaw's stories. Why would anyone want to listen to mine? Papaw was a mean old coot and half crazy too. He'd force us grandkids to listen to his boring ass, made up stories. All of them ended with "and then I got the clap" too. Like he was sharing some old man wisdom with us or some shit. Being little kids we didn't even know what the hell the clap was. All we knew was Papaw was crazy, he farted a lot, and everything ended with him on antibiotics. To this day, every time I see the word penicillin I think of my papaw.

Now here's a picture of a baby hippo that I had on my links but I'm putting it up here because it makes me smile and I hate MovableType like Papaw hated the "Japs" and condoms.

P.S. I had written over at Nicole's that I would love to have this baby hippo or at least raise it until it got big. Then I'd set it free in the sewer system. Like people did those baby alligators years ago.

P.S.S. I hope you all know that I would never release an animal like this into the sewage system. No. I'd train it to kill people on command. Then be all "Oh my God, I don't know how he got chomped in half, Officer. Why, yes, I have a pool, and yes, that's my bag of Purina Hippo Chow there. Why do you ask?"

P.S.S.S. I really need to stop sharing my diabolical plans on here. It ruins everything. Like Papaw's stories ruined childhood memories.

Posted by Laura at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (29) | TrackBacks (0)

J and I were in the car the other day and as he was driving I was looking out the window and saw a big ole' eagle flying with something in its talons and it got me to thinking so I turned to J and said "Wouldn't it just suck if dinosaurs were still alive and you were driving down the road and a pterodactyl grabbed your car and like, at that point you couldn't speed away, so you'd just be sitting here buckled up and screaming waiting to be taken to the nest and fed to the babies." J looked at me like "What the fuck?" and said "For an adult you sure do talk about dinosaurs a lot." That kind of irritated me so I told him "Fine. I'll stop talking about them." Then a few minutes later I said "Cities would probably have to be built underground because the buildings and homes would get stepped on and all the dino shit would be everywhere." Then he was all "I think if we had our weaponry we'd destroy them. And I thought you said you'd stop talking about them." Then I said "Just because you hate dinosaurs, doesn't mean I have to." And he was all "I don't hate dinosaurs. I got you one for your birthday didn't I?" And I said "Yes you did. And by the way, how come you chose an allosaurus for me?" And he said "The allosaurus looked cool. Why, don't you like it?" And I said "Yes, I love it but I needed more air support, so I needed another pterodactyl." And he rolled his eyes and laughed and was all "Well, I'm not getting you a pterodactyl." And I said "So, you not only hate freedom, but you hate pterodactyls." And he said "If we were on the phone right now, I'd hang up on you." Pterodactyl hater.

Posted by Laura at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (25) | TrackBacks (0)

I know you all have been sitting around wondering what I cooked today. Well, today I made a bacon and tomato sandwich. I skipped the lettuce, because lettuce can kill you. Fact. Seriously. Now, back to the stegosauruses, oh, umm, I mean polo ponies.

Posted by Laura at 01:03 PM | Permalink | Comments (13) | TrackBacks (0)

I just want to tell you all that this was by far Jack's favorite outfit. He pranced and danced and didn't want me to take it off of him. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Posted by Laura at 02:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (21) | TrackBacks (0)

I took today off work and planned on sleeping late when I was awaken by the sound of sirens. Jack rushed to the window to see what was going on and I quickly joined him. What I saw will forever be burned into my corneas. My neighbor Crazy Betty's car was on fire and the firemen were just arriving. Crazy Betty was running around in circles in her yard, in her babydoll nightie, hooping and hollering and throwing her arms up in the air. "LAWD JESUS! LAWD JESUS! LAWD JESUS!" That wasn't the bad part, the bad part was every time she threw her arms up, her nightie flew up to show she was going commando. I kid you not. Jack yelped and ran back into the bedroom. I threw up a little in my mouth. I may have lost consciousness for a bit. It was horrifying. I hope I don't have nightmares.

Posted by Laura at 07:57 AM | Permalink | Comments (24) | TrackBacks (0)

I've had a cold all weekend, and there are not too many things worse than a summer cold, I mean besides leprosy and bubonic plague. I've been piled up on the couch basically for two days and because I live in the South and it's humid and no air conditioner in the world can take the humidity out of the air, I've been sweaty and cranky most of the weekend. Sexy. I tried taking Jack to the park Saturday morning and as you see, that didn't turn out well. J avoids me completely when I have a cold. He's all "I don't want to get sick; I have important meetings next week. I'm not coming over." One time I was sick and delirious with fever and ran out of Tylenol and I called and asked him to get me some and he drove by and put a bottle in my mailbox. I guess that's better than just throwing it out of his car window as he speeds by, but still. He's just like Howard Hughes about germs, minus the long hair, and nails and, of course, being a billionaire. I don't mind him being like that at all though. Any time he starts getting on my nerves all I have to do is sneeze and he's pretty much out the door before he can say "Bless you." So there's that.

Now here's a picture of Jack trying to expose himself on the Internets:

Posted by Laura at 04:09 AM | Permalink | Comments (16) | TrackBacks (0)

This is my Voodoo Chicken and Smoked Sausage Etouffee, which is just like Tyler Florence's Chicken and Smoked Sausage Etouffee, except for my recipe you drink the other five beers in the six pack bought for it and plan your enemies demise. Come to think of it, all of my recipes are Voodoo.

Posted by Laura at 12:50 PM | Permalink | Comments (8) | TrackBacks (0)

Posted by Laura at 08:19 AM | Permalink | Comments (11) | TrackBacks (0)

Posted by Laura at 12:26 PM | Permalink | Comments (14) | TrackBacks (0)

My cat Traxler is over twenty years old. For the past year or so he has had a bad incisor (canine) tooth. The vet and I decided not to risk putting him under anesthesia for tooth extraction since he was still eating well and any infection was kept under control with antibiotics.

Did I ever mention how awesome this cat is? He is. He's one of those cats that love people without being an aggravating asshole. He's also a cat who can not only extract his own tooth, but place it on your pillow for the tooth fairy.

Yes, that disgusting thing was on my pillow. And yes, I applied Stick Science when I first saw it until I could figure out what the hell it was. And right now I am doing laundry because all my bed linens were in the hamper. I fought the urge to leave a quarter under Traxler's cat bed cushion. But only because I thought it would push me officially into the Crazy Cat Lady Zone.

P.S. I know you all are asking yourselves how the hell does this entry relate to "Boner Week." And all I can say is, it doesn't. But if you saw a twenty year old cat tooth on your bed, I bet you'd lose your boner.

Posted by Laura at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (21) | TrackBacks (0)

I took Tuesday off for my birthday and since we were having probably one of the last decent days before the hot summer sets in, J took me to Swan Lake and we had a picnic! Yes, there is actually a lake around here called Swan Lake. When J first told me where we were going, I was all "Jesus Christ, I hate ballet, J." But then I thought it would be a great place for a boner story since Sheri and I decided this week's theme was "Boner Week" and those male ballet dancers in tights always look like they have a boner. Then J said no, it was an actual lake with swans and I said okay cool because I could play with my new iKillerRobot (YES!) there. Little did I know that there was a boner story about to unfold before my very eyes. No, you filthy fuckers, get your minds out of the gutter, I don't have sex in parks, my name isn't George Michael. No, I'm talking about this swan that was apparently on high alert for boners.

You know, when Sheri first suggested we do a boner theme week I was skeptical whether there were that many boner stories to tell. But I am starting to see that boner stories are all around us. All we have to do is look for them, much like this swan.

P.S. Do you know how you can tell if you have a super cool, great boyfriend? They get you a new Allosaurus to add to your dinosaur army collection.

P.P.S. I wrote about the very first boner I ever saw HERE. I think once you read it, some of you will probably think I deserved to be chased by Godzilla dick guy. But remember, the boy in the story was terrorizing the girls on the playground with his boner. He deserved what he got. It was boner justice.

Posted by Laura at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (20) | TrackBacks (0)

That's the latest pic I put on my "real life" Facebook page. You know, the one where everyone from back home "friended" me, then they don't even talk to me so I made up a big fake life where George Clooney is my boyfriend and we party all the time and I rub it in their faces that my life is way better than theirs and they just want to kill themselves because their lives suck big green donkey ones compared to mine? Yeah, that one.

Speaking of exciting lives, I watched over five hours of "Swords: Life on The Line" on Saturday. It's like "Deadliest Catch" except they fish for swordfish instead of crab. I don't know what it is about these shows, but they are addictive as hell and I love them. And I know I'm late for this rodeo, but I watched Iron Man and can I just say that Robert Downey, Jr. is hawt as hell. He has officially been added to my imaginary boyfriend list. Yes, again, I am an imaginary whore.

Now if you'll excuse me, I better go. I think I read somewhere that there was a new show on Discovery called "Legs: Marshland Mayhem" about a bunch of frog giggers in some backwoods bayou. You just know that shit's going to be good.

Posted by Laura at 06:30 AM | Permalink | Comments (15) | TrackBacks (0)

J refused to take me to Red Lobster to celebrate George Clooney's birthday yesterday. He was all "No. I'm not taking you to Red Lobster to celebrate Clooney's birthday. That's ridiculous." I told him he was ridiculous. I then I collapsed into a puddle of my own tears. Okay, it wasn't exactly a puddle of my own tears. It was some spilled water from Jack's water bowl. And I didn't really collapse, I just kind of slid. But I was still sad we weren't going to Red Lobster. I really like those garlic biscuits.

J called me later and said he'd take me to Red Lobster for my birthday next week. I told him no, I couldn't go to Red Lobster now. He was all "Why the hell not?" I said "It will just remind me of George. Now Red Lobster is George's and my 'place'." He was all "What the fuck?" and I explained to him that now I will have the memory that he refused to take me to Red Lobster for George's birthday so now it was George's and my "place." He then hung up on me. See what I mean? JEALOUSY.

Now here's a short film featuring two of my favorite things, George Clooney and zombies. Remember, May is Zombie Awareness Month. I don't know what that really means, just remember it. Many thanks to my friend Sheri Gilmour for these hysterical cards!

Posted by Laura at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (20) | TrackBacks (0)

Sheri Gilmour created this card just for me and I laughed so hard I had tears running down my face. You know you have a good friend when they indulge your insane delusions of grandeur. I wanted to share it with you all on this special Mexican holiday that we gringos have no fucking clue about.

Posted by Laura at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (23) | TrackBacks (0)

Not only is May Zombie Awareness Month of the Zombie Research Society, but May is also the birth month of two very important people. One being George Clooney and the other being me. That's right, my Boo and I are both May babies and this got me to thinking about just how much George Clooney and I have in common. So let's list a few of them, shall we?

• George was born May 6. I was born May 11.
  
• George is from Kentucky. I am from Kentucky.
  
• George played a doctor on television. I have played "Doctor."
  
• George has acted in a lot of movies. I have watched a lot of movies.
  
• George once owned and loved a pet pot-bellied pig. I love bacon sandwiches.
  
• George is a millionaire. I am a thousandaire.
  
• George owns a villa in Italy. I own a ceramic Christmas Town made in Italy.
  
• George likes pie. I like pie.
  
• George is friends with Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie. I like pie.
  
• George dates whores. I'm a wh...wait. What?

Posted by Laura at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (25) | TrackBacks (0)

Rinse the collard kraut with cold water in a colander. Brown the pork chops in olive oil. Pepper to taste. Don't salt because there's enough salt in the collard kraut. Place in a covered pot with 1/2 cup of water and simmer for 30-40 minutes. I also added drained canned new potatoes to complete my meal. It was absolutely delicious.

Now here's a picture of Thelma in Jack's new bed. I have a feeling Jack's going to be destroying another bed. He'll sniff their butts, but he thinks they leave cooties in his bed.

Posted by Laura at 12:34 PM | Permalink | Comments (11) | TrackBacks (0)

I have good news and bad news. First the good news, I found a lawn service company! YAY FUCKING YAY! It's a big professional company and the guy I spoke to seems really nice and concerned about the messed up way my previous yard guy has been doing the yard, and he promises they will do a good job. It's a tad more, but worth every penny if they just do what they say. So keep your fingers crossed that I don't end up in jail from tasering their asses if they fuck up.

Now the bad news, my stomach hurts. I think it's food poisoning. I think I ate some bad Indian food last night. How can you tell, ya know? All Indian food seems kind of rancid. Well, usually I depend on hard liquor killing any bad shit in the foreign food I eat before it gets in my bloodstream, but I wimped out and just had wine and now I'm paying the price. I've been seeing double all day and breaking out in sweats. I'm not a doctor, but I think seizures are next.

Oh, speaking of rancid food, I have been trying for six months to get J to accept a sucker bet from me so that when he loses I will have him eat something from one of these Mexican Roach Coaches that are all over town.

I thought it would be funny to have him eat some weird Mexican meat made in a dirty van by Jose who hasn't washed his hands since he watched an el porno the night before, but now that I'm suffering so with digestive distress, and he just told me over the phone that he was too busy to listen to my craziness about getting a goat, I can honestly say, I think it would be FUCKING HYSTERICAL.

Posted by Laura at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (17) | TrackBacks (0)

Me: "Hey, my birthday is coming up. Do you need any help picking something out for me?"

J: "You're so helpful, but no."

Me: "Because if you don't have it yet, I can help you out."

J: "That's nice of you, but I already know what I am getting you."

Me: "Oh, is it an iPad iKillerRobot?"

J: "I'm not answering you."

Me: "Okay, give me clues. Can I read it?"

J: "Yes."

Me: "Ooooo, what color is it?"

J: "Black"

Me: "Ooooo, is it an iPad iKillerRobot?"

J: "No. It's a Bible."

Me: *CLICK*

Now here's a picture of a goat taken by a reader just for me:

** Because iPad is a retarded name, henceforth it shall be referred to as an iKillerRobot.

Posted by Laura at 05:53 PM | Permalink | Comments (14) | TrackBacks (0)

If you read this blog last summer you know that I have had a hell of a time getting a lawn service to show up, let alone do a good decent job. I fired my lawn guy last year because he started doing a really bad job and believe me, I pay good excellent money. Well, this spring I had several people stop by and leave their cards and estimates and I hired a guy. The first mowing was last week and when I came home from work I was happy when I pulled in and saw it had been mowed. Then as I got out of the car I looked around. Motherfucker. Fucker mowed AROUND the hose, didn't edge the sidewalk, hell, didn't trim around the house, didn't blow off the back steps, left the back gate open, AND didn't trim the hedges on the other side of the house. So I called the dude and left a nice voicemail asking that he call back.

When he called back I asked him about the things I just listed and immediately he went on the defensive and said he broke his hedge trimmer and he doesn't move ANYTHING and he did trim around the house and yada, lie, yada, lie, boo fucking hoo. I could not believe it. I asked him if this is how he did other's yards, and he started interrupting me and getting all pissy so I said "Listen to me, Motherfucker. SHUT THE FUCK UP. You know you did a shitty job. Don't fucking lie to me and DO NOT come back." Oh My Fucking God. I was so pissed, if he was standing in front of me I would stabbed him in the face with my grass trimmers I USED to trim around the house. I really would have.

So now I have to find new lawn people. AGAIN. I called three places the same day I fired the fucker and NOT ONE has returned my call. You can't even throw money at the lazy motherfuckers around here to get them to work. I am starting to believe that either my house was built on top of some sacred lawn mowing Indian tribe burial ground, or the fuckers have some kind of network and have me blackballed. Maybe I'll get a herd of goats. Yeah, then watch them eat AROUND the hose.

Posted by Laura at 08:48 AM | Permalink | Comments (16) | TrackBacks (0)

Thelma Drinking Old School

Posted by Laura at 12:22 PM | Permalink | Comments (7) | TrackBacks (0)

Jack finished all his meds and is doing great. Again, thank you all for the well wishes. He goes back to the vet next week and hopefully will be allowed to get out of his carriers. I didn't want him to feel like he was being punished so I actually have a few carriers in different rooms for him. Traxler always finds an unoccupied one every chance he can.

Thelma prefers her fancy bed because she's a diva.

And Herman doesn't give a shit as long as he has toys.

The reason you don't see a lot of Herman on here is because he's like me, he hates the camera being pointed at him. I mean HATES IT. So I will only snap a few a year, and only while he's in his cage where he feels safe. Also, unlike me, Herman freaks the fuck out if there's a fly in the house. I freak the fuck out if there's a Palmetto Bug in the house though.

That's it with the animal portion of our program.

I wasn't going to admit this, but after I ordered the T-Rex pillows I thought the big chair needed a new pillow also, so I ordered this Stegosaurus pillow:

Seriously, the colors of these pillows, sage and coral, coordinate awesomely in the room and they add hipness. I mean, how the hell can you go wrong decorating with dinosaurs? You simply can't. J has been relentlessly making fun of me all week, so I sent him this card:

I also included a note saying I ordered THIS for the dining room. I haven't heard back from him yet.

Posted by Laura at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (19) | TrackBacks (0)

I've been blogging for several years now trying to educate you people. Just last week I introduced Stick Science to you after Sheri Gilmour found some weird shit in her yard. When I posted that entry I hoped that you all would absorb it and pass it along. Kind of like leprosy, but without any body parts falling off. Well, I found someone who did just that. Cbullitt at Soylent Green did an entry spreading the news of Stick Science to his readers. I commented that I should deputize him and because I'm lazy and have no research funding, he had his own badge made which is way better than getting leprosy.

This is what I'm talking about, people. Listen to me, spread the news, and then reward yourselves.

I'm thinking we should have a Blog Stick Science Expo Week next week. Everybody needs to find some gross, weird blob in their yard, poke it with a stick, photograph it, and document your findings in an entry. If you don't have a yard, look in your bathtub drain or something. And don't be poking and photographing your spouses and neighbors and shit. We want real scientifical science here. So do it! Or not. But if you do, let me know, since I'm the head scientist of this project.

P.S. I'm like that Marlin Perkins dude who was on Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom where I sit back and talk about tagging the lion and you all are like my assistant, Jim, who wrestles it and gets all fucked up and mangled.

P.P.S. Or I'm like Captain Kirk landing on a new planet and you all are my Away Team and you're all wearing red shirts and get killed almost immediately while some hot, yet bizarre alien falls in love with me.

P.P.P.S. Or I'm like a super rock star slash dancer slash zillionaire and my boyfriend is George Clooney and we spend most of our time, when I'm not on tour and he's not filming that is, shacked up in his villa, nude, making... Wait. What?

Posted by Laura at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (20) | TrackBacks (0)

Years ago I used to run. I used to run every day come rain or shine. Some days, at least twice a week, I would run 15 plus miles at a time. I never ran under 6 miles. I was obsessed with running. Running made me feel invincible. I was Super Laura.

Then I killed that skinny bitch with Cheetos flavored kryptonite and boredom.

So now I'm attempting to get back into some kind of shape besides round and it sucks balls. And not tasty, awesome donut balls rolled in powdered sugar goodness, but big, sweaty, nasty balls rolled in stinky gym shorts of despair. But I'm not here to bore you with my diet and exercise plans. No, I'm here to bore you with my hatred of this WHORE:

That photo was taken two days ago. Yes, they are TOGETHER. That's the opposite of APART. Apparently my voodoo is broken. So I need to get down to my fighting weight and handle this matter once and for all. I don't know what that means. Hell, I don't even know what I just wrote. All I know is I just spotted a rogue M&M under the bookcase so I have to go now.

P.S. That rogue M&M turned out to be an escaped Excedrin Geltab. Shit. Very disappointing. Well, at least I don't have a headache anymore.

P.P.S. J just called me and told me I shouldn't be telling people what's all up in the Bible. I told him he was just jealous that I understood the Bible better than he did. He disagreed with me so I called him a heathen that hated religious freedom. He hung up on me again. Now my headache is back. Shit.

Posted by Laura at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (21) | TrackBacks (0)

It's been a while since I made a Stab List and it's not because I've stopped wanting to stab people and things. Oh, no. As a matter of fact, it's the complete opposite. I have found that I want to stab most people and things in my life, and it just got difficult narrowing down a few for a weekly list. So for now, I'll just list who I've wanted to stab in the last hour or so.

1. Steve Jobs for naming the iPad "iPad." I want one, but it's a ridiculous name. What the hell, Steve? It sounds like an electronic sanitary napkin. Was this an inside joke? "Hey, watch the sheep buy whatever I'm sellin' no matter what shitty thing I name it!" All I can say Mr. Jobs is "Baaaa." Yes, I will have an iPad, but I'm going to call it "iKillerRobot" because that's a way awesomer name.

2. All lawn care companies in Columbia. Last year I could not get one to show up. So far this past week, four have knocked on my door asking if I need lawn care. Grrrrrrr. STAB.

3. EVERY SINGLE PERSON driving on the roads in Columbia. Every. Single. One. I know what you're thinking, "Oh Laura, what makes you such a perfect driver?" And the answer is "Nothing." I just want everyone stabbed so I don't have to put up with all the traffic jams, having people pull out in front of me, being cut off, etc. And, you know, I don't have road rage either. Nope. I have Road Tourettes. I cuss constantly while I am driving. Imagine that, eh? Fucking stupid-ass drivers.

4. Bob Seger for not selling any of his music on iTunes. What the fuck, Bob? I know you're probably rich enough, but some of us would enjoy having your songs available to purchase on iTunes. Sure, I know some of you "artists" think you're too good or something, or maybe you make a few pennies less than a zillion in one arena compared to another, but damn, make it easy on your fans, you bastard.

5. My eye doctor who told me he accepted my vision insurance, then AFTER my exam he told me he takes it for exams only, NOT glasses. WHAT. THE. FUCK. It was like an old bait and switch scheme. And yes, yours truly now needs glasses. Uggh. And no, I can't stand contacts. Optometrists are fucking evil. FACT and STAB.

6. I want to stab myself for being a grown-ass woman who just ordered two of these pillows for her couch:

But they're just too damn cute.

Posted by Laura at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (19) | TrackBacks (0)

Friday night- Turkey Spaghetti.

Please note, I do not make my spaghetti sauce from scratch because that's valuable time I could spend doing something more important, like training for a marathon or watching "Hoarders." Also, you can never have too much garlic or onion. FACT.

It was yummy.

Saturday night- Roasted Vegetables.

Roasted asparagus, cauliflower, and onions. Absolutely scrumptious. Again, if you're not roasting all of your vegetables, you need to seriously re-evaluate your life because you're doing it wrong.

Posted by Laura at 02:23 PM | Permalink | Comments (11) | TrackBacks (0)

Posted by Laura at 04:47 PM | Permalink | Comments (10) | TrackBacks (0)

Me: "What are you doing?"

J: "Trying to get my taxes finished before they come after me."

Me: "Yeah. They'll come after you and throw a hood over your head, rough you up a little, and throw you in the back of a government van."

J: "I'll have to hide from them then."

Me: "If there's a reward, I'll turn you in."

J: "You would turn me in for a reward?"

Me: "Sure. And I bet they will pay more too when I tell them you hate freedom."

J: "You need to stop that. I do not hate freedom."

Me: "Terrorist."

J: *CLICK*

Posted by Laura at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (17) | TrackBacks (0)

I don't know how many of you check out the links I post over on the left sidebar, but I posted one last night that I have been enjoying all day. I think it's a comedic reenactment, but I watch COPS enough to know it sure could be real. I start laughing the instant Steve appears on the dash-cam riding his lawnmower all kicked back and drunk on his way to The Oyster Shack. That there is classic redneck drama at its finest. I probably enjoy this more than most people because I own a taser and I like the I-think-I-crapped-my-pants power it holds. I also thoroughly enjoyed Steve's big ole' crazy "I know my rights" dance at the end. Good times.

P.S. That reminds me, I finally found a guy to mow my yard! Let's hope this guy shows up, unlike last year when my yard went to seed and looked like an abandoned lot. If he doesn't, I think I'll hunt him down and give him that crapped-in-his-pants feeling. I've been wanting to test it on someone.

P.P.S. J just called and told me I couldn't tase someone just because they don't show up as scheduled. I told him he wasn't the boss of me and it's within my rights to tase them. I swear to God, it's like J hates freedom sometimes.

P.P.P.S. J reminded me that my taser has serial numbers in the barbs and can be traced back to me. Shit.

Posted by Laura at 04:17 AM | Permalink | Comments (16) | TrackBacks (0)

Don't you hate going over to someone's house expecting a good time and then suddenly they pull out their photo albums and for the next two hours you're trapped looking at pictures of their fucked up family and pets and the boring places they've traveled to and you have to fake being interested when in reality you would prefer a massive aneurysm than suffer looking at another picture of them standing by a road sign and just when they've reached the last page of the album they pull out a movie projector and you're all "FUCK" but you sit there anyway because you can't think of a good excuse to leave and you're still waiting for that aneurysm? Yeah, me too. So let's begin, shall we?

When I spotted that sign I knew I had to have some. I swear to God, sometimes I eat like I'm 12 and my parents left me home alone with money and the keys to the car. Well, okay, I actually hot wire the car in my head.

Found another photo that Jack took on my iPhone of me in bed with, well, you know who, GEORGE CLOONEY.

Speaking of Jack, he's doing great and he's taking this time working on his World Domination Plan in Facebook. That piece of art was sent to him by a fan. I don't know what's more terrifying, the thought of Jack becoming world leader or the knowledge that an adult drew that. (I kid! I think it's a hoot.) It is now Jack's campaign poster.

And speaking of kid, just seeing how a goat would look in the new neighborhood.

Now, if your head hasn't exploded yet, here's the home movie part, so this should do it. This is a short video I took on my iPhone of Jack a few months ago. He's always been a jumping fool, but that career is over, which is okay, because world leaders just sit around being fools anyway.

P.S. Did you know I have an iPhone?

Posted by Laura at 04:31 AM | Permalink | Comments (20) | TrackBacks (0)

I found this in my yard today and applied some scientifical science and poked it with a stick. I then flicked it onto a towel with said stick and photographed it because, as a scientist, you like to document your discoveries. Since I discovered it I get to name it. That's how we scientist roll. Its fancy scientifical name is Weirdus Yardo Alienus Withsum Tentaclesi Thingie. That's Latin.

*EDIT* As requested, here's a picture showing the size of the Weirdus Yardo Alienus Withsum Tentaclesi Thingie. I hope this answers your and Alien Thingie's questions.

Posted by Laura at 04:11 AM | Permalink | Comments (26) | TrackBacks (0)

About a month ago I was invited to guest blog on a site, It's a Security Light, about my wacky neighbors. I think they chose me because I live in Freakville and I have written about Crazy Betty, who by the Blood of Jesus, is without a doubt as wacky as they come. Well, what with all the free time I have on my hands, I just posted a small entry about another neighbor I lovingly refer to as Mr. Roboto.

There's lots more wacky nabes in Freakville that I will be posting about over time on their site. I told them I was like some crazy distant cousin who said she was going to stop by and stay at their house but either never showed up or showed up way late and they didn't know whether to call the authorities or be relieved because I would only be drinking up their beer and farting on their couch. And they wanted me anyway!

So add It's a Security Light to your favorites, because not only are there some very funny writers over there, but reading about other people's miserable, weirdo neighbors always makes you feel better about your own.

Posted by Laura at 11:12 AM | Permalink | Comments (11) | TrackBacks (0)

Every spring South Carolina gets covered with a thick yellow dust known as pine pollen. It's so bad, if you park your car outside you will have to rinse it off to even see out the windows. Everything gets coated, including my outdoor kitty Tinks.

*Jack Update: He is much better. He's out of pain and sassy. He's still on meds and crated and will be for three weeks. He has a crate in just about every room so he's not alone. He and I also want to thank you all for all the well wishes. You guys rock.

Posted by Laura at 05:21 PM | Permalink | Comments (15) | TrackBacks (0)

Jack is in solitary confinement. Not because he has rabies (that's me) or because the authorities found out about his World Domination Plan on Facebook, but because he hurt his back again. A few years ago he hurt a disk in his back and was hospitalized for about a week. When he came home he was confined for a little while and he got his doggie steps and was pretty much carried everywhere else. 

He's been pretty good about not jumping. Yeah, not all the time. Jack is a ball of pure energy stuffed in a weiner casing.

I took Jack to the veterinarian this morning after he started acting strange late last night, and no, there was no Kool-Aid. He got x-rays and an injection of prednisone and was released with muscle relaxers and prednisone and he has to be confined in a small carrier for three weeks, only coming out on a leash to use the bathroom outside. What a pain in the ass this is going to be. But he's not only my best friend who has appointed himself my protector, he's family, even when he's being a little shit.

Posted by Laura at 04:05 AM | Permalink | Comments (24) | TrackBacks (0)

GEORGE CLOONEY has ended his relationship with his Italian girlfriend ELISABETTA CANALIS  WHORE, according to a report.

The Hollywood heart-throb has been dating the model/TV presenter since last July (09) and their romance was rumoured to have turned serious at the end of 2009, although a rep for Clooney dismissed reports of an engagement in November (09).

The couple is said to have split shortly after this year's Academy Awards ceremony in March (10).

A source tells Grazia magazine, "They'd been on the rocks since February, but held on to make it through awards season.

"They decided to go to the Oscars ceremony in L.A. together, but they didn't attend any showbiz after-parties together. George jetted straight out to Hawaii on his own for a few days later."

One of my readers, Jersey Jim, was the first to send me the news yesterday in comments. Words can not even express my happiness. I know you're suppose to be all sad for people that lose love blah blah yada yada boo hoo but this chick was a WHORE and succubus. Just look at how miserable and unhappy he looks. It's my mission now to turn that frown upside down naked. Wait. What?

To celebrate this momentous occasion I had a party last night. It was just my animals and I sitting around in party hats drinking Cherry Kool-Aid and watching "A Perfect Storm." I got a good sugar buzz going, then I started taking a shot of Kool-Aid every time the camera went to Mark Wahlberg's face and he was mouth breathing. Within 10 minutes I fell over into a sugar coma. Woot! Woot!

Posted by Laura at 03:54 PM | Permalink | Comments (13) | TrackBacks (0)

Body Found Near Clooney's Home

Police in Italy have launched an investigation after the body of a woman was pulled from the water close to George Clooney's home at Lake Como.

The actor owns a luxurious lakeside mansion at the popular tourist destination, but the peace at the beauty spot was disturbed this week when a passer-by spotted a corpse in the water and called police.

The body of a woman, said to be aged between 25 and 30, was pulled from the lake by authorities close to Clooney's multi-million dollar villa.

A police spokesman has not given any more details about the woman's death, but revealed the body may have entered the water further upstream and washed into Lake Como through one of the adjoining rivers.

The rep tells Britain's Daily Star Sunday newspaper, "There is a strong wind blowing towards the south and we believe the body was dumped up lake and taken down close to the home of George Clooney."

P.S. Shit. If this woman's been stabbed prior to being dumped, I'm going to have to go into hiding or get an air-tight alibi.

Posted by Laura at 11:56 AM | Permalink | Comments (12) | TrackBacks (0)

My new summer purse is so soft and buttery that it just screams "Touch me!"

But my new Day of the Dead wallet says "Back the fuck off!"

Posted by Laura at 04:45 AM | Permalink | Comments (16) | TrackBacks (0)

Posted by Laura at 08:49 AM | Permalink | Comments (11) | TrackBacks (0)

• I have 47 friends on Facebook. Jack has 128. Every time I log into Jack's account there are at least three friend invites waiting for him to approve. No one has asked me to be their friend in weeks. People send him pictures and videos and jokes. I get invites to join retarded Farmville.
  

• I want to officially recommend this product:

  
  
  
  
  
  

  Listerine Whitening Rinse. It works. I noticed a difference in a week and my teeth started out white. Seriously, try it. No one paid me to say this. And I'm getting pretty sick and tired of it. Somebody should be paying me.
  

• Easter is coming up and I will be making cookies. I got a new cookie cutter for this religious holiday:
  
  




• A house was purchased this week on this oak-lined street:



Wouldn't it be a perfect place for a baby pygmy goat?

Posted by Laura at 04:59 AM | Permalink | Comments (22) | TrackBacks (0)

J: "Jesse James has got to be one of the stupidest men in America, cheating on Sandra Bullock like that."

Me: "I know she's your imaginary girlfriend and everything, but she'd have to be really stupid not to know this was going to happen."

J: "Well, Sandra seems like a nice, real person so it's hard to imagine wanting to cheat on her with what he cheated with. And how would anybody 'know' something like this was going to happen?"

Me: "Listen, it's like if you bring a bear in your house and you feed it berries and honey. Sooner or later he's going to get bored with the berries and honey and fucking rip your head off and eat it. He's a fucking bear, it's what bears do. Same with bad boys. Sooner or later they get tired of the 'normal sweet girl' and are going to fuck around on them. It's what bad boys do. Accept it or leave."

J: "Wow. You should be a marriage counselor."

Posted by Laura at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (18) | TrackBacks (0)

Monday night I had a migraine. I have a migraine about once or twice a year. Which, if you have to have migraines, isn't that bad I suppose. This one was one of those nasty migraines where light hurts your eyes, sound hurts your ears, and you feel like you're going to puke but know if you do your head will explode like a watermelon at a Gallagher Show. The only thing to do is lie there with a cool, wet washcloth over your face, moaning softly and praying the pain will be over soon one way or another. The last time I had one, in November, I got a shot of Demerol from my doctor. Later at home my heart did a skippy jump and sprained itself (!!) and I ended up in the hospital hooked up to shit and getting all kinds of heart tests and scans. I didn't go for my Demerol shot this time because the doctors said it could happen again because my heart goes all wacky because I died once years ago. YES. I died in surgery all dramatical and the surgeons brought me back with paddles and shit (CLEAR!) like you see in those medical dramas, except none of my doctors were torn with the ethical dilemma of falling in love with me, their patient, which was okay because they were old and none of them were hot and I was all cranky on the morphine. They really pissed me off bringing me back from the other side too because now I have to live in a world where George Clooney shacks up with WHORES and I can't have a baby pygmy goat. Fuckers.

Now here's a picture of Shrimp Linguine I made.

Here's the ingredients.

Traxler did not lick the shrimp.

Posted by Laura at 05:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (22) | TrackBacks (0)

I found this site, Heifer International and I think one of you should give me a goat. Yeah, I know it's supposed to be for donating livestock to poor people in third world countries so they can start farming their herds. But fuck that. Charity begins at home, my home to be exact. And if they are that poor, they will just eat your donated goat and that's just wrong. Send them some cheese or something.

P.S. J called and said "Wow. You should work for a non-profit."

P.P.S. J also read about the cupcake caper and said he wondered why there was a hint of Fancy Feast Savory Salmon.

P.P.P.S. It concerns me that he knows what Fancy Feast Savory Salmon cat food taste like. Maybe you should send him some cheese. But still send me the goat.

P.P.P.P.S. I really can't have a goat until I move out of the city. So I should correct this to say "Buy me a house in the country so I can have a goat" but I am too lazy, and will just put it here. Buy This Heifer a Country Home. Thank you.   

Posted by Laura at 05:02 AM | Permalink | Comments (15) | TrackBacks (0)

You know how you ask someone "How was your weekend?" and instead of them saying "Fine, how was yours?" they start telling you some boring ass story about some boring ass shit that happened over their weekend and you're kind of trapped like an animal listening to them and nodding your head and all you want to do is chew your leg off so that you can run away? That's what my "Retarded Pictorial Series" is like. Enjoy.

Retarded Pictorial Story of Something That Happened Today

While I was cleaning my house I felt industrious and made Red Velvet Cupcakes.

As they were cooling I sat down on the couch and fell into a Lemon Pledge induced coma and my cat Traxler licked off the top of three cupcakes.

I iced them anyway and took them to J's house.

Fin.

Shit. Maybe I shouldn't have told this story.

Now here's a picture from Jan of Cascade Exposures of a baby pygmy goat trying to chew it's leg off.

Posted by Laura at 09:08 AM | Permalink | Comments (21) | TrackBacks (0)

Posted by Laura at 09:58 AM | Permalink | Comments (12) | TrackBacks (0)

Here's a quick review of my week:

• I made it to Friday without killing anyone.
• I still don't have a baby pygmy goat.
• I told myself that I will clean my house this weekend.
• I will probably blog this weekend, or at least annoy you with photos instead of cleaning my house.
• I bought more Lady Gaga music. I know. I need help. Some kind of bad music intervention. I think she made a pact with the devil. I really like the song and video to "Telephone" even though Beyonce's all up in it. It's very Quentin Tarantino-like. I think I like how they kill everyone at the end best. I just pretended the dog was taking a nap.

P.S. Comment of the week goes to Headless Guy on the last entry:

"Okay look, I’m not trying to creep you out or anything but I just looked at my iPhone and I have the exact same picture of George in my bed. WTF? The pancakes are the least of my worries…"

Posted by Laura at 04:53 AM | Permalink | Comments (20) | TrackBacks (0)

I have this on my sidebar under "Links To Enjoy" and I thought it was pretty creepy:

A couple of months ago my friend's cousin (a single mother) had gotten a new cell phone. After a long day of work, she placed her phone down on the counter and started to watch T.V. when her son came to her and asked if he could play with her new phone. She told him not to call anyone or mess with the text messages and he agreed to do so. At around 11:20 p.m. when she was getting tired, she decided to tuck her son in and go to bed herself. She proceeded to his room to see that he wasn't there. She went to her room to find him sleeping on her bed with the phone in his hand. Browsing through her phone, she noticed only minor changes such as a new background, banner, ect. and headed towards the picture section. She began deleting the pictures he took when she came across the last one... When she first saw it she could not believe it. It was her son sleeping on her bed, but was as if the picture was taken by someone else above him. It shows the left half of what seems to be an old woman's face.

Okay, that's spooky shit right there if it's true. It got me to thinking how I'd react to waking up and looking at my cellphone (which just happens to be an iPhone) and seeing a pic of me sleeping in my bed taken without my knowledge. Ghost or no ghost, that's fucked up.

So this morning I got up, and while getting ready for work, I picked up my iPhone and saw that my photo app was open. What I saw next was shocking. It was a photo taken while I was sleeping of my bed... here, see for yourself:

P.S. I was kind of mad that the only pic of George in bed I could find had him with a look of horror and remorse on his face. But then I thought that's probably pretty much how he'd look in my bed. In my head though, I would call it his "afterglow look" and then he'd make me pancakes.

Posted by Laura at 05:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (26) | TrackBacks (0)

Posted by Laura at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (26) | TrackBacks (0)

Holy hell. A flock of pink flamingos landed in my neighbor Crazy Betty's yard last night!

I didn't think we were in the migratory path of flamingos. It's a neighborhood mystery. Perhaps you can help us figure this out.

I may have to call the National Audubon Society to get to the bottom of this. I mean, if I cared.

P.S. For anybody wanting to read about the insane shenanigans of Crazy Betty just do a search on her over there on my search button thingy. Or not.

Posted by Laura at 04:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (30) | TrackBacks (0)

I added a vacation picture to my "real life" Facebook album so all my old "friends" can be all ate up with jealousy. Bitches.

My Boyfriend and I at the Himalayan Mountains
2010

Posted by Laura at 03:26 PM | Permalink | Comments (7) | TrackBacks (0)

Fetch My Flying Monkeys is going to be going through some rearranging in the next week. Don't worry. Clooney, T-Rex and goats will still be a part of this blog. Hi Justin! By the way, I appreciate all the kind words from you guys. Seriously. Hearing from readers is a big ole' ego boost. Thank you.

The rearranging that will be visible to you will be kind of minor. One of the visible things you'll be seeing, for example, is my blogroll will have its own page so that I can add more links to your sites. I have not been good at this because well one, I'm a lazy slacker, and two, the outside columns would go all wacky uneven and that would drive me crazy. I mean, even crazier than I am now. I considered going to a two column blog for a sleeker look but I don't want to give up putting links in on the left. Besides, a sleek blog is the sign of a stable person. We cannot have that. Oh, speaking of links, in case you missed seeing this one, I am putting it up here because it's fucking adorable. I know it's not a goat, but it makes me smile.

What was I talking about? Oh yeah, rearranging the blog. There may be a few interruptions in posting, but IT is working hard for that not to happen. That translates to J doesn't want to hear me bitch and whine.

Now here's a picture of a goat in a Ferrari.

P.S. Don't forget to leave the url to your site so I can keep track of you people!

P.P.S. Also check out Advice Asylum, where we stopped giving advice and went more with the asylum part. Seriously. It's insane there. Join in the on the crazy.

P.P.P.S. OH MY GOD! I just saw this commercial on tv:

Goats are EVERYWHERE! It's like a sign from T-Rex that I should have one.

Posted by Laura at 05:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (17) | TrackBacks (0)

First, I would like to start this off by saying thank you for reading my blog. I know I joke about being an attention whore, but I really am. I don't get enough attention in my day to day "real life." In real life no one thinks it's funny if I go off on a cussing tangent or go on and on about my pretend relationship with George Clooney or when I start listing off people I want to stab. No, I just get weird sideway glances and then people start whispering about "3 days of observation evaluation" and such. I really do love that people read my crazy shit and I would hug and kiss you all if touching people I don't know personally didn't creep me out so much. I also adore people who comment. I would not only hug and kiss you, but would co-sign on a loan for you. Not really, but you get the idea.

From time to time readers email me. They send me sites or pics they found on the web that they know I'd enjoy or just a note to say they like my site or that I made them laugh. This, people, is better than winning an award. Seriously. Stuff like that keeps me blogging. And there's no joking about that.

I guess the whole point of this entry is to thank you, the reader, for reading my blog. Thank you also for taking the time to comment. You people rock.

Oh, and to justinblack109 who told me I was doing it wrong and I quote:

"need to stop with the fucking stupid goats and the faggot Clooney and stupid ass T-rex before my head explodes from the stupidness"

This is for you:

Never. Gonna. Happen.

Cleanup in Aisle 5.

Posted by Laura at 05:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (40) | TrackBacks (0)

Strawberries are my favorite fruit. Trouble is, the strawberries you buy in the store aren't very good. As a matter of fact, they majorly suck. It's really hard to get sweet strawberries anymore. But I have no problems because for a few years now I've been using Miracle Berry Fruit Tablets.

You let one tablet dissolve on your tongue and anything sour will taste magnificently sweet. Seriously. I use them before eating strawberries and grapefruit mostly. They make strawberries taste like the best you've ever eaten with no sugar or sweetener needed. The effects wear off in like an hour or less. I personally never timed it; I'm too busy chowing down on berries and fruit like a stoned spider monkey.

Don't let the Asian writing scare you. I had them tested first in a lab before I even tried them. They're perfectly safe. And by "had them tested first in a lab" I mean I hid like 10 of them in J's peanut butter sandwich and then watched for seizures, paralysis, sudden blindness and shit. What doesn't kill him makes me stronger.

P.S. Nobody paid me for recommending these tablets. And that's fucked up. Someone should pay me something. Even if it's in goats. Baby pygmy goats to be exact. Yeah. Fuckers.

P.P.S. You know what? Don't even try these tablets. Not until the cheap bastards cough up some cash. Or goats.

Posted by Laura at 05:03 AM | Permalink | Comments (14) | TrackBacks (0)

Me: "Hey, I was thinking."

J: "Uh. Oh."

Me: "Hush now, listen. I drive a Toyota and they seem to having those stuck accelerator problems and maybe I can use this to my advantage."

J: "I'm afraid to ask how."

Me: "Well, what if I had, say, a stuck accelerator in a parking lot. You know, as some of the assholes I don't like are going to their cars. And I'm like, 'Whoa, my accelerator stuck!' BAM! BAM! BAM! 'Oh Hell! I'm doing donuts now!' THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. THUMP."

J: "Well, I have about given up making the moral arguments to slow you down and will go straight into telling you why it won't work. First, your Toyota isn't one of the ones with the problem. Secondly, what are the odds that the three or four you want to take out are going to line up right in front of you like that. It isn't like you could keep claiming the same 'OOPS. Sorry. Stuck accelerator.' line every other week."

Me: "Perhaps I could bait them to get them all gathered together. You know, tell them all they won a contest or something."

J: (silence)

Me: "Dammit, I'm sick of you destroying my dreams. More pizza?"

Posted by Laura at 04:41 PM | Permalink | Comments (17) | TrackBacks (0)

I was talking to J the other day about creepy ass shit I can't stand the sight of. Seriously I would burn my house down if I saw one of these in it:

The spider, not the lizard. I like lizards. He argued that you could just call in an exterminator, that there was no need to burn down a house. I'm of the opinion that a lot of things are just too damn evil for regular extermination. And some are like roaches, if you see one, there's thirty you don't. All of these things you need to lock in your house and then set it on fire to destroy them. Your house is forever cursed anyway.

So without further ado, here's a list of some of these things:

If I Saw One Of These In My House I Would Burn It Down Because They Are Totally Fucked Up And Evil And Must Be Destroyed With Fire

1. Any ugly ass insect that's big enough to eat lizards.

2. Any form of a ghost/demon/spirit/angel. That's right, an angel. If I see ANYTHING all floaty and shimmery and talking, I will runout, lock the door, and torch the house.

3. A clown or mime.

4. If Paris Hilton/Lindsay Lohan/Britney Spears used my bathroom.

5. A DMV worker/census taker/Scientologist/Girl Scout/Boy Scout/Brownie.

6. George Clooney's WHORE.

P.S. Speaking of exterminators, go read about my obsession with a new reality show I found on A&E this weekend- Billy The Exterminator. Why didn't someone tell be about this show before?

P.P.S. The Girl Scout can come in if she brought cookies. But really, she can stay on the porch for that couldn't she? So scratch that.

Posted by Laura at 05:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (15) | TrackBacks (0)

I added more NYC pics to my "real life" Facebook account so my old "friends" can be all jealous and shit.

I cleaned out my refrigerator.

Jack was upset that I moved the beer up a shelf.

Roasted some green beans with garlic and Parmesan cheese.

And watched a really bad movie because the zoo scene made me laugh.

Posted by Laura at 11:35 AM | Permalink | Comments (11) | TrackBacks (0)

J tried to tell me that a pet goat would serve no purpose other than to eat and poop. I told him "That's what all my pets do so that's no big deal." He said "Well at least they're trainable" (HELLO? Have you even met Jack?) and I told him my goat could be trained too. He asked me, "Trained to do what?" And I said "Well, I could train it to be a seeing-eye goat." He looked at me like I was retarded and then I remembered goats like to jump on things 

and also I wasn't blind. 

Then I quickly tried to distract him with the awesomeness of this picture-

and he stopped talking to me because he knew I'd want a monkey to go with my goat.

Posted by Laura at 05:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (18) | TrackBacks (0)

Do you remember the site that Sheri and I were collaborating on? Advice Asylum. The one we basically abandoned because we both have blogger's ADD. Yeah, that one. Well we're out of the advice business. I personally got tired of giving advice. All of mine ended with telling people "...then turn the gun on yourself." What I failed to realize is that when people take advice like that, you lose your audience. Go figure. And let's face it, it was only a matter of time before the authorities closed us down. Anyway, since we have a perfectly good website sitting there we have decided to use it for posting blurbs. Blurbs are just quick, short random entries of whatever is on our minds. Very good for people with blogger's ADD. It can pertain to anything or nothing at all. It will be like our personal Twitter except we won't be forced to count characters and no one can shut us down for cursing and upsetting people's sensibilities. Because isn't that the real reason for having your own site? To act out with immunity?

So put Advice Asylum back in your bookmarks and visit us frequently, then turn the gun on yourself. Oh, sorry. Old habits die hard.

Posted by Laura at 05:01 AM | Permalink | Comments (8) | TrackBacks (0)

J and I were in Target this weekend and he said he needed hair gel. They were out of his regular brand, so I picked up another and told him it was just as good, if not better than his. He was skeptical at first, but I assured him it was all basically the same thing. He threw it in the cart. Tuesday afternoon I got a call.

J: "You know that hair gel you picked out? I smell like an old lady. Like roses to be exact."

Me: "It does not smell like roses."

J: "It does too and I bet you did that on purpose."

Me: "What are you saying? That it's all part of my diabolical plan? That I made you get that gel so bees will be attracted to you and your old lady hair? That they'll sting you and your tongue will swell and you'll fall over gasping for air, and you'll try to call out for help, but help won't be there. Is that what you're saying?"

J: (Silence)

Me: (laughs)"Well?"

J: "Umm, no. I was trying to say you just wanted to make fun of the fact that my hair smelled like flowers. And I'm not allergic to bees."

Me: "Oh. Then I have an insurance policy to cancel."

Posted by Laura at 05:08 AM | Permalink | Comments (15) | TrackBacks (0)

Oh shit. One of them must have been hiding in the limo.

Posted by Laura at 01:17 PM | Permalink | Comments (8) | TrackBacks (0)

Titled: "My Boyfriend and I Just Hanging Around My NYC Penthouse Apartment."

Posted by Laura at 08:33 PM | Permalink | Comments (7) | TrackBacks (0)

I not only have rabies, but I have had bad insomnia for over a week now. This makes me extremely tired and cranky as you can imagine. More than my normal tired and cranky. This is one reason why I sign up for all of the social media apps like Twitter and Facebook, because they can be put on my iPhone and I can use them laying down. I don't blog from my iPhone because iPhone auto-spell is insane and it'll look like a brain-damaged spider monkey wrote it. I mean, more than it does now. Anyway, because I also have Internet ADD, I've pretty much abandoned Twitter and am exclusively on Facebook for now. I've been working some more on my "real" account too. You know, the one where I lie about my big exciting, important life so that people from my high school will be in awe and all jealous of me and shit and want to kill themselves because they can't be awesome like me? Yeah, that one. I have on there now that I live in New York City. I've been scouring the web collecting pictures of New York to put in my albums. I wanted ones that looked like I took them, not some professional jobs. I wanted to stay "real." Because when you're lying like a motherfucker you have to stay "real." Hey, I think I'm going to embroider that on a pillow or something.

P.S. Jack is still getting friend requests and also invitations to join groups in Facebook. One of his invites is to join a group called "I'm Gay and Proud" and the other is "How To Make Love to A Gay Man." Seriously. I'm starting to piece together what he's up too all day when I'm at work. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

P.P.S. Did you know I have an iPhone?

Posted by Laura at 05:11 AM | Permalink | Comments (14) | TrackBacks (0)

Three Startling Discoveries I've Made So Far This Week

• I own three Lady Gaga songs. Yes, Lady Gaga. I own Poker Face, Paparazzi, and Bad Romance. According to my iPod I have played Bad Romance 23 times since I downloaded it. I downloaded it on Saturday night.
  
• I am totally addicted to wacky, weird reality shows. Not only am I addicted to "Hoarders", but I watched back to back episodes of "Deadliest Catch" this weekend and could not look away. And it's the same thing over and over! It's cold, it's wet, they catch crabs. Like most people's prom night. Which reminds me, I also watch "16 and Pregnant" and "RuPaul's Drag Race." Can. Not. Look. Away.
  
• Jack is on FaceBook. Not only is he on Facebook, but he has more friends than I do. Not only does he have more friends than I do, but he gets more people writing on his "wall." He even got solicited by a female Mastiff named Bella. He kindly turned her down, explaining to her that he was neutered but told her they could still go out and sniff cat butt sometime. He's so polite.

Posted by Laura at 05:04 AM | Permalink | Comments (13) | TrackBacks (0)

Posted by Laura at 05:05 AM | Permalink | Comments (15) | TrackBacks (0)

Here's a picture I took of a photo of my mother and her goat cart. The photo is in an antique frame and has been on my dresser for years. Today as I was dusting, it occurred to me that goat must be in my blood. I remember my mom telling me that she and her cousins used to have goat cart races and that she would never win because her goat was pretty ornery and her cousins always cheated and she always wanted to stab them. Okay, I added that whole cheating and stabbing part. But you get my point. Goats are awesome even if they're ornery.

Posted by Laura at 05:50 AM | Permalink | Comments (12) | TrackBacks (0)

I added another photo to my so-called "real life" Facebook account showing all my so-called "friends" what last year's pool party was like. Not only were there goats, but Elvis made a surprise appearance and T-Rex hogged the Velveeta fountain all day, proving once again that you can do whatever the hell you want when you're God, not to mention a T-Rex.

Posted by Laura at 06:05 AM | Permalink | Comments (9) | TrackBacks (0)

It was a suck ass day and to top it all off, my rabies came out of remission. When this happens there's nothing to do but post pictures and videos because I am too much of an attention whore to just skip a day of blogging. Aren't you glad?

Know what cures rabies? Baby pygmy goats.

Posted by Laura at 05:12 AM | Permalink | Comments (14) | TrackBacks (0)

J: "..and they moved away to try to work things out because they really hit a rough patch. She has a hard time just dealing with reality."

Me: "Yeah, well, they both need to just suck it up and get the fuck over it."

J: "But sometimes people need to do more than 'just suck it up and get the fuck over it.'"

Me: "No they don't. Think about it. All anyone ever needs to do is suck it up, and get the fuck over it. Stop freakin' whining and moaning 'poor me, blah, blah, blah.' That's it. Problem solved."

J: "Wow. You should have been a therapist."

Posted by Laura at 05:05 AM | Permalink | Comments (14) | TrackBacks (0)