Tuesday, March 31, 2009


I've not got anything important to blog today, so in lieu of my usual well thought out and perfectly punctuated posts, here is a bunch of randomness for your viewing pleasure.
* I have answered the eternal question of why teenagers spend so much time in the bathroom. It's because it takes HOURS to apply this much eye make up.

* If you want a baby/dog/man to look at the camera, you're shit out of luck. They're not going to.

(ex. A)

(ex. B)

(ex. C)

* Unless you have treats. Then, you get this.

* My pants make it look like I have a load in my drawers. And, now that I've photographed it, apparently I also have a bad case of "noassatall".

(this picture is for Dream who thinks that there isn't enough pictures of my ass on the Internet)

* Not at all related to my ass, how cute is this guy?

That's Frank, my sisters other Dad. He might, or might not be a leprechaun. Verdict is still out. If you live in NYC you can see him and sister CF marching about with the County Tyrone pipe and drum corp.

* And finally, PDA, from your parents, is always, always gross. Always. And forever. Amen.

Monday, March 30, 2009

We call them "republicans"

M: I suburnt the roof of my head.

Me: Some people call that their scalp.

M: Some people have a sadly stiffled sense imagination.

Friday, March 27, 2009

Ouiser Says

If your wife says, "What do you think of my haircut?" The proper response is never "You look like an aging lesbian".
(hair cut in question)

Thursday, March 26, 2009

Wordless Thursday, because I thought it was Wednsday; subtitled, "he's not black, he's my brother"

(That's Gram with him)(pre- whiskey shooters)(and pre many glasses of wine) (also, he is my brother and he is black. Although, I like to say he's "just dirty") (futhermore M makes him do the "Carlton Dance" from Fresh Prince. For obvious reasons.) (lastly, I know, I know, there are words. Suck it.)

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

A trip to Button's Brain

This is Button. Well, his real name is Max, but he chooses to be called Button. Why? Because dogs are weird.

Every morning, when I get up, the minute the alarm goes off, he jumps from the bed and begins to dash back and forth between the bed and the door. The following is a true account of what goes on inside his brain during the first few minutes of the day.

OMG! The singing! it's back! That means it's time to GO OUTSIDE! Do I want to go OUTSIDE? Yes I do! I Do! I want to GO OUTSIDE! Why isn't the Mom moving? Why is she smacking the singing box? It's time to GO OUTSIDE. OMG. OMG. OMG! We must Go OUTSIDE. RIght now. NOW. OUTSIDE OUTSIDE OUTSIDE.

Thank Dog, the Mom is moving! YES! She will let me GO OUTSIDE. I must get to the door before that infernal puppy! I run! I Run! There is the door! It's in the same place as yesterday! WHERE IS THE MOM? Why won't she hurry? I must find her.

THERE she is! Yes! She is in the hallway! I will show her the door! There it is! WHY IS SHE MOVING SO SLOW? I MUST GO OUTSIDE. OUTSIDE. OUTSIDE.

STOP TOUCHING ME PUPPY. I bark at you! BARk! Bark! I must go outside! Now! This instant! WHY AM I NOT OUTSIDE YET? WHY? Why won't the Mom move faster? I must fetch her! She is still three feet away. Here, Mom, here is the Door! The door to OUTSIDE. Where I must go! Now! LET ME OUT LETME OUT LETMEOUT!

YES! I am outside! I am out....what the fuck am I doing out here? I don't want to be outside! LEt me in! This instant! Where did that woman go? I must go INSIDE. INSIDE not, Outside. Who the hell wants to be outside? Outside is cold! There is no bed out here. I must get inside! I will scratch the door! Yes! I am scratching! WHERE IS THE MOM? I will bark! Bark! Bark! Bark! Bark! That means "let me inside" in Human. OMG. I am still Outside! I will DIE. DIE I TELL YOU, if I am not inside this instant!

THERE! There is the Mom! She will save me! She will let me INSIDE! Why is she wet? Is it raining? Is the roof leaking? I must protect the Mom from the inside rain! She doesn't know the danger she is in, I should bark again! YEs! Bark! Bark! Bark! That is human for "don't worry, the Mom, I will save you!" She is so grateful she will give me a cookie! No! Two cookies! No, TWENTY COOKIES!

Who is Shut The Hell Up? Is there another dog out here? I must check! No need to go inside now! I must do an INVESTIGATION of this BAD DOG. I will find him! Yes! I am outside to find BAD DOG! I run! Run! Why is the Mom chasing me? Is it to give me huggles? That must be it! I will run to her! I will put my paws on her! Why is she yelling? Is that human for Good Button?

I am a GOOD BUTTON! I will run to the kitchen to get my cookie! No, my TWENTY cookies! Where is the Mom going? THE COOKIES ARE RIGHT HERE! I will chase her! Here, the Mom! Come here! OMG! NOOOOOO!

She's back in the inside rain! That woman is so weird! Doesn't even know enough to get out of the rain!

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

I do my own MeMe

1. Three items you would take to a desert island and why. Don't be a loser and say "a boat" either, ok?
* Let's see. I would bring a Marriott hotel and all of it's staff and services
* Oh, a tweezers, because chin hairs are so unsightly. Also, if I get bored I can always pluck my leg hairs.
* A chimp. Although, if the island already HAS chimps, maybe a ice cream truck.

2. If you could only save three people from zombies who they would be?
* Chuck Norris, obviously. The man is a national treasure.
* Mr. T, because he could SO kick some Zombie ass.
* Brad Pitt. No, George Clooney. No, wait. Sean Connery. Or um, what? We'd need to repopulate!

3. If you had to smell like a food, which three foods would you prefer?
* Pie. Possibly cherry. Though apple is nice too.
* Pizza. Because boys LOVE pizza.
* Mint chocolate chip ice cream. Of course, I'd probably spend all day smelling myself like Mary Katherine Gallagher, thereby doing even LESS work, but none the less, delish.

4. Three books you wish you'd never read?
* Anything by Jane Smiley.
* Map of the World, somethingorother Hamilton. Hated it!
* The resolutions? Reservations? Something. Hated it so much I can't recall.

5. Three biggest lies your parents told you?
* The world used to BE black and white
* My great grandparents were descended from leprechauns. To be fair, this may just be something I inferred.
* My sister was born wearing roller skates.

6. Three favorite band names (real, or "If we had a band we should call it...")?
* Bowling for Soup
* Puking Cucumbers
* Retarded Clowns

7. Three things that make you go "ew"?
* Puss, phlegm, anything green and ooz-y like that.
* the smell of rotten fish, week old in the trashcan, heated by the sun
* unflushed public toilets.

8. What are your three biggest addictions?
* Porn. Just kidding. Maybe.
* my blackberry
* my TiVo. I'd marry that thing if I could.

9. Chicken and waffles are ever so tasty; three food combos so wrong they're right?
* Peanut butter and pickle sandwiches
* corn on the cob with mayo
* and uh, I got nothing else. Whoever made this MeMe is stupid.

10. Three bloggers you would make out with?
* Lorrie.
* Nadine.
* The Bloggess

Monday, March 23, 2009

Three MeMe -Improved because it's NEW.

You know those "Three Things" tags? Where you're meant to tell three places you've lived, three names you've been called and so on? Well, those are like SO BORING. But I've been tagged, so I'm making my OWN Three Things MeMe and you're all tagged. So There. Ha.

1. Three items you would take to a desert island and why. Don't be a loser and say "a boat" either, ok?

2. If you could only save three people from zombies who they would be?

3. If you had to smell like a food, which three foods would you prefer?

4. Three books you wish you'd never read?

5. Three biggest lies your parents told you?

6. Three favorite band names (real, or "If we had a band we should call it...")?

7. Three things that make you go "ew"?

8. What are your three biggest addictions?

9. Chicken and waffles are ever so tasty; three food combos so wrong they're right?

10. Three bloggers you would make out with?

There. That was hard. Now go fill it out! It's not like you were working anyway.

Friday, March 20, 2009

I hate him for inventing Global Warming.

M: Don't tell my friends but I kind of want to see the Hannah Montana movie.

Me: Ok, but I'm still going to blog it.

M: Could I stop you?

Me: nope.

M: I hate Al Gore for inventing the internet.

Just a Link


Thursday, March 19, 2009

Nobody wants to be a junkie when they grow up

M: guess what were going to do for our school play?

Me: suck?

M: Probably, but also we're going to sing the freecreditreport.com song and dress up as what we want to be when we grow up! (Sings original version of the jingle) guess what I'm dressing up as?

Me: a hooker?

M: god, that's so 2006.

Me: So, what, then?

M: A Powerball winner!

Me: Can I have five million dollars?

M: No. Get a job.

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Wordless Wednesday - Diva's Brain is RIGHT THERE

(uh, oh, words! This is my dearly beloved Diva. With whom I did various and sundry Bad Things back in the day when doing Bad Things was the best way to spend a Saturday night. Or a Tuesday night. Or pretty much any night that you could ride the bus to a club that you weren't old enough to go into, drink dubious things bought for you by boys with long hair and flannel shirts, then catch a ride to Denny's for fried cheese before creeping back home in the day break hours to sleep it off. Knowing full well you're going to do it again in about 10 hours, only this time, you'll be wearing a tiara and a Ramone's teeshirt instead of a white wife beater, red bra and Mickey Mouse ears.)

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Confidential to BJ is Dallas

Hey Sistah-girl!

Today is your LUCKY DAY. I'm serious. You know how you're having a hard time finding a quality guy? Someone who shares your interests and likes long walks on the beach, glasses of wine and guacamole?

Well, let me just say You're Welcome in advance, because your Thystle has been looking out for you. Because that's the kind of girl I am. All thoughtful and shit.

Now, before I tell you about how he just got a promotion (to fry cook!) and how he's probably going to move out of his moms house "real soon" and before I even TOUCH on the fact that he likes quiet evenings at home (watching Battlestar Galactica reruns) I want you to see his picture. Because OMG, girl, can I just say, YUM? I know how you like them homeless looking....

I KNOW, right? Delish.
PS. I WOULD be honored to perform the wedding, thanks for asking!

Monday, March 16, 2009

Toilet Paper Baron

Recently I've read several books about the demise of modern society. The first, The Road by Cormac McCarthy is probably the most famous of the two and we've discussed it here already, so the one I want to talk about today is

In this novel, modern American Society has collapsed as a result of an unpopular, un-winnable war, a bad economy and a series of bombings in major cities. The characters of the book are attempting to just stay alive in the returned-to-dark-ages landscape of upstate New York. There is no more electricity, telephones or law enforcement and the government is all but absent from their daily lives. Thugs and religious groups fight for territory and one pandemic after another sweeps the nation unchecked by medicine.

Let me tell you chickens, I don't want to be all "The SKY IS FALLING" but more than The Road, this version of the potential future seems all to scarily possible. What IF the world economy collapsed? What IF the oil producing nations all decided to hate us at the same time? What IF we were no longer able to run to Wal-Mart for a gallon of milk? How many of today's society would be able to return to a self sufficient way of life?

Could it get to this point, even? Aren't there meant to be stop-safes in our society that would prevent this sort of socio-economic melt down? If so, what are they?

We sit in our subdivisional houses watching digital cable thinking "oh, those poor African-bush people!" confident that this National Geographic life will never actually touch our own with no real assurances that it won't. It could, you know. A civil war with Mexico or dirty bombs in the major cities, a pandemic like the Plague, a discord with our oil suppliers and then what?

I don't know about your cupboards, but my collection of Slim-Fast shakes and half-stale Ritz crackers probably wouldn't help me ride out any sort of long term disaster. I better start hoarding Toilet Paper, too. That stuff will be worth it's weight in GOLD.

Friday, March 13, 2009

Blogging from the Safety of Under the Bed

I am not a superstitious person. Or perhaps, wasn't is a better description.

I didn't have to be to work until a bit late this morning, so after waking M up, I headed back to bed until it was time to drive her to school. A nice extra hour of sleep that I deserve, if I say so myself.

When 7:30 rolled around, I shuffled into some pajama's and slippers and grabbed my Blackberry, wallet and phone. Only, curse of curses, that damn Dingleberry was stone dead. So, I think, it's not big deal, I'm only going two miles what could I possibly need a phone for? I plug it in, grab the kid and head out the door.

The Juice, my belovedly hated Bronco, starts just fine, I drop M at school and head back home to shower and change. Only, of course, because it's Friday the Fucking Thirteenth, the damn check engine light comes on, the engine cuts out and I coast to a stop in a somewhat seedier than my own neighborhood. Fantastic.

Now, I'm a bit mechanical, which is to say that I know where to add fluids and I know which belts are meant to be where and that kind of thing, so I hop out, pop the hood and balance on the tippity top of my froggy-slipper clad toes and peer into the engine, where everything looks just fine. It's not hot, it's got water and oil and nothing is smoking or dripping. Back into the car, turn the key, no go. No big deal, I'll just call someone to come and fetch me and wait a fucking minute, that damn phone is at home. Shit. Shittay shit shit.

Back out, under the hood, jiggle some stuff, get honked at, into the car, turn the key, nothing.


I'm on the side of a busy, major road, in pj's with little puppies frolicking about on giant green pants and wearing froggy slippers. I am also two miles from home with no phone. Now, of course, you're thinking, just find a pay phone. Only, peeps, in the ghetto, we ain't got no stinkin' pay phones. They were taken out as part of an anti-drug measure a few years ago. Not that it matters, because in this age of speed dial I don't know anyones damn number anyway.

A few more minutes of the turn the key and pray act and I give up. Fine, I think, I'll just go and catch a bus. I fish the appropriate amount of change out of the ash tray, lock up the car; Don't want it to get stolen after all, and start off down the street with my huge puppy pants flapping around my ankles where they have shrunk to from repeated washings. At least I am wearing a bra, I tell myself, because damn, wouldn't THAT be embarrassing?

One block down, I find the bus shelter, only, of course, there are no posted schedules. No! That would just be silly! Although, it's not like I knew what time it was anyway, so I think, okay, I just saw one go by when I was sitting in the car, it'll be a bit before the next one, I'll just start walking and when I see the bus coming I'll dart to the nearest stop and hop on! Brilliant! So, I'm walking...well, shuffling, because of course, froggy slippers aren't made for long distances, and I've gone a block, then two, then a half mile and let me fucking tell you a half mile in slippers, in your pajama's on a major street with bed head is a long fucking way. Before I know it, I've walked all the way to the corner I turn to head down to my street when what to my wondering eyes should appear? That muthafuckinbus, bleching it's way past me.

Now, I could be irritated, but really, I'm with in sight of my house, so I laugh it off and let myself in. I call my husband, the mechanic, who doesn't answer, then call my office to say, SO SORRY, NO Kiki today! Again!

I turn on the shower, because after walking 2 miles, in slippers with no underpants, I'm feeling a bit swamp-assy and frankly smelling about the same and of course, the damn shower door falls off the tracks and I'm standing there in the flooding bathroom deciding, do I follow doctors orders and NOT lift ten pounds, or do I just fix the damn thing. I opt to fix it. Shower is lovely and I'm dressed and awaiting further mechanical like ministrations so I think, what the hell, I'll vacuum. Half way through the house the acrid stench of a burnt out belt billows from underneath the vacuum and I think, okay, fine, fuck you too, house work and put it away. Half a house dog hair free is about the same as not at all, but you know, what ever. So I sweep and mop the kitchen and throw the rugs into the washer for a quick go round and whip them out and hang them on the line. Might as well make use of the nice weather.

Only, when I go out to check them, what do I discover but the clothes line snapped and my freshly laundered rugs on the ground with dogs laying on them.


Fine, universe, okay, I fucking get it.

Wonder of wonders though, my long walk and resulting frustration has worked loose my bowels and I think HOORAY! My car has taken a shit and now I get to also! I do my business and reach to flush and oh, yeah, you guessed it. No flush. Off with the tank lid and into the icy water, because of course the flush handle is broken and the little chainy thingy is sunk to the bottom and I have to stick my arm in to fish it back out.

Then, I think, you know what? Lunch. That's what I need, a little nourishment. So I grab the can opener, spin it round the tuna can and start to squeeze out the water, only, NO SHIT, the lid bends and instead of squirting away from me, tuna juice arches back and sprays all over my damn shirt.

Just when I think it's not going to get any worse, I mean really, how much more can the Universe do to me? I realize; It's only fucking noon.

Wednesday, March 11, 2009


There is a dilemma that comes with "Life" blogging. Most of you that frequent here blog yourselves, so you probably know what I'm talking about. It's that fine line between putting it all out there and things that should be kept to yourself.

Where do you draw that line? Certainly with things that would be detrimental to your employment or marriage, maybe even before things that while you will freely admit to them, you don't necessarily want it spread around. Things like, oh, someones Dad looks like the Penguin from the Batman movies. Yes, it's funny, yes it's true, but it's also hurtful. So you keep that under your hat and instead tell stories about how much you drink. Or drank. And where you puked as a result. Funny, self-effacing, you know....safe.

But there comes a time or an event or maybe even a person that you need to talk about. Something that is integral to who you are, or where you're going. Something so massive that you can't imagine NOT talking about it.


To talk about it is to open yourself up to judgement. Because isn't that what the Internet is for? To judge you and everything you do? Of course, you want it to be favorable, but after all, it's human nature to have an opinion and there will no doubt come a time when Mine doesn't match Yours.

Which leads me, Chickens, to this; to now. I tell you kids most everything. Certainly everything that's important or life changing or potentially fraught with potential hilarity. Or at least with stories about poop.

The truth is, my vacation wasn't a vacation. I had surgery. Gut surgery. Specifically a Roux-en-Y gastric bypass. This surgery detaches the majority of my stomach and leaves me a "pouch" of about 4oz. So, as an example, your stomach is the size of a football, mine is the size of an egg. This means that for the rest of my life, I'll eat only teensy weensy amounts of foods. Not baby food, or protein shakes, or even weird diet food. Real food, just little bity amounts at a time. It means that I'll be dependant on vitamin supplements. It also means that my joints no longer ache, I no longer stop breathing when I sleep and I am no longer in the danger zone for diabetes or high cholesterol.

It means that twenty plus years of trying every diet from Cabbage Soup to the Zone is now over. I am no longer hungry. Not even a little bit. Don't get me wrong, Mama still loves her food, but I no longer need it for anything other than nutrition. I don't wake up every morning worrying about eating "good" or "bad". It means that I have to make myself schedule a meal. Because honestly, I could care less. Food isn't my obsession any longer.

Pooping is. For real. I haven't pooped in like, oh, a week. And let me tell you chickens, THAT is a side effect I could live with out!

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

I could teach you, but I'd have to charge

Well I will be dammed. Miss Lorrie "Vote Stacker" Veasey didn't win. And neither did Kristin of Give Me a Minute aka KWR221. Although, I must say, you two damn sure did put in the effort.

Too bad you didn't suck up to Random.org, because according to them the secretly naughty Miss Tiffany of Blairspage is the Queen of Random at number 35 with her suggestion of

Miss Thystle Says You're Jealous

And now you all ARE jealous, so there you go, she was right.

Our second Random Winner is Holly West, who I suspect may also be called Holly Kay, but I'm not totally sure.

So Tiffany, pick your prize! Will it be Meatballs or Speaker wire? Bread sticks or head phones? Decisions, decisions!

Monday, March 9, 2009

Last Day for the Slogan Contest

Enter below!

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

Cheaters SOMETIMES prosper

Good mornings, my chickens!

Just wanted to stop in and say hi.

I know I should post a blog and believe me I'm working on a doozie, but it's not ready so you'll just have to wait.

If you recall, way on back to two weeks ago, I promised you a contest. And you behaved so very well for Lovely Liz, there are in fact TWO prizes! Good ones even!

The first is a $25 gift card to Olive Garden, that claims you can also use it at Red Lobster.

And the second is a $25 gift card to Best Buy. Which I don't think has gone out of business. Yet.

Look at that, kiddo's! $50 whole dollars worth of prizes!

Reasonably, you may be asking, what do you have to do to win said prizes? The answer is...um...shit. I hadn't thought that far. Okay, I know. You have to come up with March's subtitle for my headliner. You know, up at the top? Where is says "Thystle Says" and then under it, it says something clever? Or at least something *I* think is clever? That's where I mean.

Then, I will randomly draw two submissions and then randomly pick one of those two and that winner gets first choice of gift cards and their title goes in at the top. The second winner gets a prize just for being randomly awesome.

Enter as many times as you want, invite your friends to enter, get your cat a blogger account so it can enter, you know; Cheat a little if you want.

Ready? GO.