M is for the Monster in my Fridge

If you are anything like me, you have probably spent some time pondering the great questions in life:

Why are we here? What is the meaning of life? Who are the "they" in the those sentences, i.e."You know what they say, you can lead a horse to water but you can't make it drink" or "You know what they say, it's always darkest before the dawn" (Well DUH! When else would it be the darkest)? 

While these thoughts often leave us baffled, there is one of the great mysteries of the world that I am happy to be able to solve for you: How do you know when sour cream has gone bad?

This question perplexed me for quite a while. How do you tell if sour cream has gone sour? I mean sour is in the name. Hasn't it already gone bad? Yet we still eat it. 

Well, one day I found out the answer. I was making something that called for a 1/2 cup of it. When I went into the refrigerator and picked up the sour cream, it moved. Startled, I set it back on the shelf and thought WTH? I looked around to see if anyone else had seen it, then remembered I was home alone, my dogs were outside and my cat was next to me but was too busy inappropriately licking herself to have noticed. I stood there and watched for a second to see if I could detect any more movement. Nothing. Assuming I had imagined the whole thing, I grabbed the container again.

I'm not sure what happened next. All I can tell you is I opened the container, saw something green that abruptly jumped out of my hand, growled at my cat and was last seen heading North on I-75. Clearly, it had gone bad. But it didn't stop there. I had noticed some other strange things. The cheese was turning green. The eggs, well they were bad too. There was something in the back behind the crisper drawers that I can only assume used to be some sort of fruit or vegetable. It was now furry, possibly rabid, and smoking a cigarette. As I reached for it, I think it tried to bite me. Obviously, the sour cream was the ring leader in some evil plot to take over the refrigerator. I had discovered it just in time because it apparently it was also trying to convince some bread and onions in the pantry to join them. I grabbed some tongs and removed the furry monster from behind the drawer. It, the cheese, and the eggs met their demise in the garbage disposal. 

I still have my suspicions that the sour cream was not acting alone. Every once in a while, the strawberries start to get that white fur on them that I now recognize as a gang tatt. The milk tries to go bad sometimes, too. But my money is on the baking soda. It has been there the longest, sitting in silence, plotting, just waiting for the day it can escape and catch up with the sour cream and take over the world.

Until then, another evil plot has been foiled. I don't want to go calling myself a hero, so I'll let you do it. Meanwhile, be on the lookout for that gangsta sour cream, and keep your refrigerators locked. I hear it's looking for a new hideout.

*Remember to spread the laughter. If you liked this post, or any others, please share them.*

K is for Kiss This!

For all of you guys out there that don't know how to pick up women and aren't really into the bar scene, hold onto your sweatpants because now you can meet and make out hot chick without ever leaving your room.

Allow me to explain. See Keidai Ogawa is a nerd. Don't worry. I'm not being mean. He knows he is. He is also well, a little strange. Let me rephrase that, he's a whack job!

Still this nerdy, whack job status did not stop him from getting a...well...let's call her a girlfriend. It seems that our buddy Keidai grew up staring at an anime poster. But after a while staring wasn't enough. He wanted more and he knew by the way it was always looking at him that it wanted more too. So he did the only thing he could. He got freaky with it. Yup, he was getting all hot and heavy with his wall. 

This guy, whom I am guessing has his parents beaming with pride and will soon be revered as a Geek God has created a poster that will make out with you. Yes, make-out. It is called a pochuter. Chu is Japanese slang for kiss, combine that with poster and you get pochuter (which loosely translates to guy that can't get a date). "She" senses how close your head is to her and leans forward towards the kiss and even blushes after you make out. He is hoping to make her smell like shampoo (I'm guessing Windex-she is a poster after all), whisper sweet nothings (How YOU doin'. my 3-dimensional lover) and is going to add flavor to her lips, which apparently right now, taste like paper. My vote is for a nice subtle wallpaper glue flavor. 

Oh, where to begin. First, she sounds like a bit of a slut to me just hanging out in guys rooms waiting to get it on, but whatever. I mean imagine having a friend over. You go to get something to drink only to come back and find your buddy making out with your wall. How can you forgive something like that?

"Dude, That's my girl!"

'I'm sorry man. I don't know what to say. She kept looking at me and the closer I got the more she leaned in and I don't know how to tell you this but...dude she kissed me back. Ask her."

"Is this true? How long has this been going on?  I guess that's how I got this cold sore on my lip!"

They break-up he takes her down, rolls her up and puts her in a box under his bed. They make up and she is back on his wall. He gets a new poster and she feels used. The two girls stare each other down whenever he isn't around. It is a vicious love triangle. Your basic boy meets poster. Boy gets horny. Boy makes out with poster. Poster screws around and breaks boy's heart. I've seen it a thousand times.

Second, think of how it will affect society. If all these smart guys are staying at home making out with their walls who will bring about cold fusion? Cure cancer? Invent the 3rd version of the Snuggie? Not to mention who will the brainy girls hook up with to make genius babies? You can't have a meathead and a smart girl make a baby. Meat trumps brains. And it's not like geek boy and anime poster will have a child. I mean, what would it even look like? Confetti?

"Oh look, he has his daddy's eyes and his mommy's one-dimensional figure. Goochy-goochy-goo. Awww, crap I dropped him. I'll never get him out of the carpet!"

Is it just me or is this totally creepy? I mean, you know it isn't going to stop there. One day his parents are going to walk in on him humping the wall and his mom will be all like, "I am NOT cleaning that up!"

And that's just one of the awkward scenarios the guy's poor parents will encounter. Imagine having to introduce her to friends:

Mom: "Marge, Tom, I'd like you to meet our son's girlfriend, Vistaprint."

Marge: "Ummmm...nice to meet...you know she's a poster right? She doesn't say much, does she? Wait, is she trying to kiss me?"

Mom:"Yeah, she is a bit of a slut."

Tom: "She's hot. But does it bother you that..."

Dad: "That my son's dating a poster? No. I'm just glad he finally got laid."

Tom: "How do you know that?

Dad, taking a swig of Jack Daniels: "Let's just say I know."

Son: "Yeah Dad, I totally nailed her."

*Remember if you like this post, please share it. Just click the FB or Twitter link at the top of the page. Spread the laughter*

I is for I'm Sexy and I Know It

If you have read some of my other posts, you may remember I was in a car accident years ago. If you are new to my blog, I am sure you just assumed I had a head injury anyway. I had to undergo seven surgeries, one of which was a condylotomy.

What is a condylotomy, you ask?

Well, allow me to paint you a picture. You are taken into an operating room.  The last thing you see before you are put under is a bunch of nurses and surgical staff sitting around eating peanuts and Cracker Jacks as a doctor in a baseball uniform holding a bat, strolls up to you taking his final warm-up swing. Wait a minute! Is this pillow shaped like home plate? HELPPPP! The last words I heard were, "Batter up!"

Next thing I know, I am waking up with my jaw broken and mouth wired shut. Still bleary-eyed from the anesthesia, my focus lands on this hot intern. Okay, I guess I should back up a little. Before I was taken down to surgery, I was sitting in my sexy hospital gown with no make-up on, as nervous as could be, and I saw him walking by. We shared a smile. It wasn't one of those bow-chicka-bow-wow smiles. It was more like a "Dude, I'm about to go into surgery and I'm scared" grin while his was like a "Yeah, I know. I'm going to slip in the operating room and check out your boobs while you're under." 

OK, so back to where we were. I'm out of surgery and in recovery. Hottie intern comes over as I am coming too. He tells me he get my mom and dad to which I yell through clench jaw "Pstb! Flghbsbbs sytp rghstfe," which somehow he knew was jibberish for, "No, please. They will make me talk and won't leave me alone." Like a true prince, he went out and told them I was okay, but they couldn't see me until I was in a room.

He came back, and for the next 4 hours, he never left my bedside. He told me how he went to school to be a pediatrician and was now doing his internship. He shared some other stuff  I was too drugged up to remember.

"You know, you're a really great listener."

Yeah, morphine will do that to you.

"I'm sorry it's taking so long for them to get you a room," he said, his kind brown eyes promising he would stay with me until they did. People that had come out of surgery after me had already been taken to their rooms hours ago. But I still had no room.

"Hmbfffffqt ftd bpfffft mmrt ffffffffffffffft," I replied. (Jibberish for "As long as I'm in a room by the time Friends come on, we're good.")

"Oh, you're a Friends fan? Well, don't worry. I'll make sure you're in a room in time to watch the season finale."

"Ffffpbt, (thanks)," I muttered, smiling. At least, I think I was smiling.

Several hours later, my room finally became available. My handsome brown-eyed intern wheeled me up himself instead of tasking the orderlies with the job. 

"See, I told you I'd get you up here in time for Friends. I've got connections," he said with a wink. "Unfortunately, I don't think I'll make it home to watch ER." 

OMG! Is he hitting on me? Does he want me to ask him to stay and watch ER?

Just as I was contemplating how to make my move, my mom and dad came in, full of concern, and drilling me with questions.

"You don't want to make her talk right now.  She needs to rest, so please don't ask her any questions because she can't and shouldn't answer them right now," he informed my parents, giving me another wink. I gave him a big smile...or not, I was pretty doped up. He squeezed my hand, whispering something to me that I don't recall,  and then left my room.

The next morning, I woke up hoping I would get to see the hot intern before my parents came to get me. My mind wandered to the previous night. Had he wanted me to ask him to stay? What sweet nothing had he whispered in my ear? Just then my mom entered the room, gasping and making one of those horrified faces you see people make when they see something terrifying like a car crash or when they remove the lid of a really great box of chocolate, only to find someone else ate the last piece and left the empty box on the counter (those people should be shot by the way).

"Oh my God, look at her face," my mom exclaimed. I guess she thought I'd still look the same or that the swelling would go down overnight, but it hadn't. My dad tried to cover with an, "You're always beautiful to me" comment, so I knew it must be bad.

"Can I have a mirror?" I asked and viewed myself for the first time since the surgery.

Two ice packs were wrapped around the sides of my face tied together in a big ol' sexy over-sized bow on top of my head and under my chin. My cheeks looked like I was a squirrel packing nuts for the winter. My face was a lovely tie-dye combination of black, purple, and yellow with the slightest whisper of green - colors I had never seen before and would never see again in nature or anywhere else. This blend of colors extended from my insanely puffy eyes all the way down to my swollen neck.

Damn, I looked hot!

I did what any normal person would do. I laughed. 

"Don't forget these," the nurse said handing me what looked like a pair of pliers. Remember to keep them with you at all times."

"Why? What are these for?" I mumbled.

"Don't you remember?'" my mom asked. "When the intern was leaving last night, he handed you these and whispered, "These are in case you throw up so you don't choke to death on your vomit.'

Has a man ever spoken such sweet, thoughtful words to a woman? I knew I should have asked him out. He definitely wanted me. Any girl with ice packs tied to her purple-blue face and comes with her own vomit pliers just screams "Catch!" Doesn't she?

G is for Good God Your Kid is Ugly j/k LOL

You gotta love Facebook. OK, well you don't have to love it. But, you do have to be on it. If you aren't you should know that we make fun of you regularly because you are not one of the cool kids like us that sit at home on Friday and Saturday nights glued to our screens to see what other people are doing so we can live vicariously through them. Unfortunately, they are on Facebook too, so we send comments back and forth about what other people are doing and what we wish we were doing, you know if we weren't on Facebook.

While many people refer to Facebook as the Devil's Playground, and I have to be honest, I'm not sure that they are wrong, it also has a lot of good aspects. It gives you the ability to reunite with friends that you have lost touch with, reconnect with lost loves (Ha! Look at the butherface he ended up with) and keep in touch with family that you don't see. Although the family thing is a double-edged sword.

"Hi, Aunt Gertrude. I am really sorry that I wasn't able to come over Saturday and watch the DVD of Uncle Leonard's colonoscopy. I heard you made your famous liver and marshmallow green bean casserole. You know how sorry I am that I missed that! I just can't seem to shake this cold. Huh? What's that? Oh, you saw the pictures on Facebook of me doing Jager shots and jello wrestling at Mardi Gras this weekend. Yes, I do have a lot of beads. No, no, that wasn't my boyfriend. Just some guy I met. No, I really was sick. That's what happens when you take Ambien and cold medicine... yeah, I'll come over right now. Yes, I'll stop and pick up some marshmallows."

See double-edged sword. Oh, and if you are wondering what a butherface is let me give you an example:

Wow, that girl has a rockin' body, but her face looks like a Pitbull's chew toy!

Facebook also gives you the opportunity to see photos of your friends and family and comment on them. Have you ever seen somebody's baby and thought wow, that is one ugly kid? Of course, you can't (or shouldn't) say that so you write something like, "Wow, he looks just like his daddy."

Well, some people have found away to say exactly what they are thinking without incurring the wrath of the proud parents. They simply add what I refer to as a dis-qualifier. For example:

Hope she's smart 'cause Good God is that kid ugly!  j/k

Well, at least now we know what it would have looked like if Mr.and Mrs. Frankenstein had a baby.LOL

That's your kid?!? It looks like something my cat coughed up! LOL j/k 

By simply adding "j/k" (just kidding) or LOL (Laugh out Loud) people are saying exactly what they are genuinely thinking, but are able to play it off as a joke. And it doesn't have to just be about ugly kids. Say your friend tells you to go online to look at her new, awful haircut that she loves. You have the ability to say the following:

Wow, not everyone can wear green hair. And what'd they cut it with? A weed-whacker? LOL j/k 

For the first time, you can be completely honest because if someone gets all pissy about it, all you have to say is I wrote j/k. What are you getting so mad about? It makes them feel like the jerk. You can't do that if you are face to face because then this person will know you weren't j/k and as a result may punch you so hard that they give you a but-her-face. Then I will be forced to make comments filled with j/k and LOLs under your picture about what a loser you are which I will have time to do because after all, it is Friday night so we know I will be at home on Facebook so I don't miss out on everything that is going on with the other cool people. I just have to stop by Aunt Gertrude's for some marshmallow casserole first.

D is for My Drug Addict Dog

Ruff, ruff, bark, ruff, grrr, bark bark.

Loosely translated from dog to human: Hello, his name is Nemo and he's an addict.

Yes, that's right. I have the world's first drug addicted dog. I mean, it's not like he is out snorting coke or selling himself for meth, at least not that I know of anyway. No, the latest drug craze sweeping the animal kingdom is... fire ants.

Drug Lord

It all started when Nemo, my American Eskimo a.k.a Spitz,  came in one day looking like he had some irritation on his nose. I tried to put some Neosporin on it, which he naturally mistook for a gel-y goodness treat and licked off. The next day, it was a little worse so I gave him a Benedryl...did I forget to mention that he is allergic to himself? Oh yeah, he totally is. Maybe it's just pollen and crap getting on his fur, but he sneezes several times a day in a manner that involves his whole body, sometimes making his feet actually leave the ground. He is always incredibly surprised by this and afterwards, he  looks at me like, Holy crap! What the Hell was that?!?

Nemo -his nose used  to be solid black.

Anyway, Benedryl  didn't work. Within three days, his nose looked like the fake nose Rudolph's father makes him wear to cover up his red nose. By the fifth day, the damn thing looked like it was going to fall off. Afraid he had cancer or some mutant elephant nose doggy disease I took him to the vet who had no idea what the problem was.

Again...it used to be ALL black.

Finally, my friend saw an Animals Behaving Badly documentary. When he first told me about the show, I was afraid it was going to be about animals robbing banks or dogs on cheaters. The female dog catching her boyfriend dog with another girl dog, attacking her and barking, "That's my man, Bitch!" But no, because that would be ludicrous. Instead, the one my friend saw was about a drug addicted bird.

Turns out the bird would dive bomb into piles of fire ants causing them to spray a poison that causes the animal to get high. Now I had noticed Nemo had been hanging around some fire ant piles that were notorious for being a bad crowd. Still, I thought he was smart enough to stay away. But then one day, there he was, pawing at the pile. Looking back, I had noticed he would come in with his bleary eyes red and half opened, seeming incredibly chilled, and looking at me like, Mom, do we have any chips or cookies? I've got the munchies. He would also start whimpering, wining, and scratching at the door to go outside after only being inside for an hour. I now know, he was jones-ing for a fix.

Die! Die! Die!

Naturally, I was pissed. How dare these little pushers come on to my property and hook my baby! I had to get rid of them. I tried fire ant killer, but they just moved their pile or a new drug lord would just take over for the old one. Frustrated, one day my anger got the best of me. I was on my riding lawnmower and saw one of their little drug dens. I hit the gas and yelled, "Bonzai, you little bastards!" Not sure why I chose Bonzai, but in the fit of anger, people often yell strange things. I plowed through the den and they went flying all over the place. I felt victorious, so when I saw another one, I gunned it again. Only this time, the lawnmower stalled right on top of the pile. Not good...

Drug Den

I was swarmed. It was a blood bath, one from which my lawnmower would never recover. The other pile I had massacred...well turns out, I just scattered them everywhere. There are now little drug dens all across my 2 and 1/4 acre property and suddenly, I live in a "bad" neighborhood.

I tried to get Nemo into a 12 step program, but that is like 84 in doggy steps and he just doesn't have the patience...not when there are so many ant piles to snort.

Tomorrow's post: The Epidemic - Kids for Sale?

B is for Blind People - Why does Disney Hate Them?

I think Disney, hates blind people.

In order to illustrate what I am talking about, I have to tell a little story. I met my now-ex-husband when he was working for Disney. I won't bore you with the details so in short, eventually we got married. He and his family had an obsession with Disney unlike anything I had ever seen. Not only had he been employed there, but  so had all of his friends and eventually his mother and sister too.

FORE!!!!!!!!
EPCOT -Disney World

Because of this, we were able to visit the Walt Disney Parks whenever we wanted, which was often because it was free, well you know, besides having to sign over your first born for a burger and to take a mortgage out if you wanted fries and a drink with it.

OK, back to my point. One of the places we visited was EPCOT. If you aren't familiar with this park it is best known for what looks like a golf ball that is larger than Tiger Woods ego. I am still relatively unclear as to why it is in EPCOT when you consider the rest of the park is a compilation of several countries that you can visit, enjoy the scenery, and dine on the native foods, which the women and children normally do, while the men head over to the English pub and get hammered on beer ordered by the yard ( as in 3 feet tall).

I realize I may have lost many of you who are now on the first plane to Florida for yards of beer, but for those that are still with me, on with the story because this is why I believe Disney hates the Blind.

In order to get to EPCOT, you must walk down some stairs, stroll down The Boardwalk which is a place with several restaurants, face painters, and balloon toys that cost more than my first car. After you head down the Boardwalk, which has a lake or river or some Disney creation flowing along side it, you come to the ferry. You stand in line, get on this boat that eventually (and by eventually, I mean you go about 15 feet) drops you off at the front of EPCOT where you purchase your tickets to enter the park. Once in, you walk down a winding path littered with shops selling toys, t-shirts and other must have Disney memorabilia that  will eventually end up in a cardboard box under your basement stairs or in your attic.After you have spent most of your life savings, you continue down the bricked path. THIS is where you find the Braille map.

My ex-in-laws (that aren't blind) finding the Braille map.

So let's assume you are blind and alone or with other blind friends (because apparently I think they travel in packs). How the hell will you even know where to find the Braille map? Shouldn't there be one on the Boardwalk, another when you get off the ferry, and another as soon as you enter EPCOT. Is it fair that you need a Braille map to find the Braille map? The only good news is that once you are inside, maybe you can find a country that is more conscientious to the needs of the Blind and if not, you can always get drunk on a couple yards of beer. Just be careful not to run into the giant golf ball on the way.

Tomorrow's Blog: C is for Colonoscopy Sweepstakes (It's real, I swear).

A-Z Challenge: A is for Askmen.com and Asses

So this is my first time participating in the A-Z Challenge. While I am excited to do it, I am also a little nervous because I never know what the hell may come out of my mouth. As of right now, I plan to tackle such hard-hitting, newsworthy topics as my drug addicted dog and lesbian torture chambers.

Today, I'd like to give a shout out to Askmen.com. They voted for the Top 99/ Most Desirable Women of 2012. Sadly, I did not make the list. I would get more into that, but the pain is too deep and I am still trying to recover. Anyway, the most desirable woman is (dadadada): Sophia Vergara.

Let me tell you why this makes me happy. I have an ass. Yes, that's right the secret is out. Since the time I was 8 years old, I have been teased about having a bubble butt. I don't mind. I'd rather have a bubble butt than suffer from Noassatall syndrome. This was never a big deal when I was growing up because the ideal size for women was thought to be a size 6. True, that is down from the 1950-60s size 10 or 12 that was viewed as ideal -think Marilyn or Mansfield - but it is still up from the size 0-2 that is considered sexy by women today.

I say considered sexy by women because if you notice women's magazines show what appear to be women that strongly resemble lollipops that look like all they had to eat was a Tic Tac they cut in half and shared. Seriously, I think most of them are lying down in the advertisements because they don't have the strength needed to hold up their heads.

Now if you pick up a men's magazine and check out the hotties, it is totally different. Men like curves which is illustrated by Kim Kardashian (even though she annoys the hell out of me) and  Scarlett Johansson cracking the top 10 and 39-year-old Sophia Vergara nabbing the top spot. (WOO-HOO!) Proof that women over 25 that aren't a size 2 still got it!

This all works for me because I am currently 37 and not a size 2, which, with my ass, I don't think it is physically possible for me to ever be. As a matter of fact, it was an inside joke with my ex-husband and his family who all referred to my butt as B.O.B. (Big Ol' Butt). That coupled with my preference of crab legs and creme' brule to half a Tic Tac makes it almost certain that I will never get below the once desirable size 6.

So once again to all of the people that voted at Askmen.com and chose the more voluptuous women, my ass thanks you. It is so appreciative that I am willing to overlook the offensive list of Most Desirable Women to Marry vs Most Desirable Women to Have for a Mistress. Although I have not checked those lists out yet, so if I have made either one of them, then I would like to retract my "offensive" comment and replace it with "wildly insightful and on target." B.O.B and I would be happy to pose for any pictures you may need.

Note: While looking for photos of skinny women, a website link came up and the sentence under it said: "If you have to eat, do it in front of people. They are teaching people how to be anorexic. SMH Bring on the curves and let's bring sexy back!

Shameless promotion for myself and A-Z Challenge

Good Morning!

Just a quick note. My blog is being linked in a promotional blog on the A-Z Blogging Challenge website. (Wow, that's a lot of "blog" in one sentence.) Be sure to check out the A-Z Challenge page and sign up. You can also click on any of the blogs in there for some advice on the how to tackle and survive the challenge.

Good luck and don't forget to check out my blog about the challenge, as well as my other blogs because, well I said so.

Happy Super Bowl Sunday!

http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/

Blogging from A-Z Challenge

Alright all of you bloggers out there. While some of you have been staying on your toes and being good little bloggers, many of you have been slacking since the holidays. Well, it's time to get off your butts and do some actual writing. The time for being lackadaisical and phoning it in is over. I present to you the A-Z Blogging Challenge.

Beginning Sunday, April 1st Blogging from A-Z is challenging all writers and bloggers alike to write a blog for each letter of the alphabet. Don't panic! You can do this. Start getting your ideas together now. Personally, I have a list of all of the letters and every time I have an idea for one, I write it down. Then whenever you have time, you can start writing blogs, keep them in a file and post them on the correct day in April. A-Z has even been nice enough to give you Sundays off with the exception of the 1st Sunday of the month which kicks off the challenge.

So if you have been feeling uninspired or just haven't been able to conjure up something worth writing about because of restricted blood flow to your head as a result of your New Year's diet resolution, here's your chance to dust off the old brain and get back into the swing of things. No more excuses! Going on vacation? Having a baby? Busy with family? No worries. You can set it up so that your blogs post automatically on the correct days.

Go to http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/ and sign up now. Doing this challenge will not only help you learn to meet a deadline, but will also give you the exposure you have been hoping for since you started blogging.

And don't forget to follow my blog Seriously, WTH? at http://shannan-afterwife.blogspot.com/

Good luck and have fun!