Wrap your head with this material...

"What blood type does a rastafarian have?" "B positive." "I feel sorry for people who don't drink. When they wake up in the morning, that's the best they're going to feel." "Voila! The Wunder Boner!" "My wife would like that!" "I couldn't tell if she was being ignorant or condescending. But I knew it was one of them" "and the world will be made of unicorns and rainbows then." "Karin fuck 25 things, it just deleted mine." "What it did? Can't you fuck em back somehow?" "I like to use the word 'weird' as a verb." "I like to use the word 'fuck' as a verb." "I want to be pregnant so I can blame all the dumb things I do on pregnant brain." "You can't teach a pregnant dog new tricks!"

So I was going to a house yesterday as part of a child abuse investigation and we brought a cop with us. We were chatting about approaches with the county car next to his and both windows down when I saw this through his window: Yes, it looks like a regular radar gun, but did you notice the brand name? How freaky is that? Aren't cops supposed to save us from stalkers? And the ATS, what do you think that stands for? A tad stupid Stalker? Someone picked that brand name. Making them, this week's weirdo: Stalker the brand name!

“if they were abortion donuts, i don’t think i’d want one. i assume they’d be taking them out of the oven way too early.” "Some things just go together perfectly, but no one would've believed it was true about cocaine and rhinos until you came along." "They're fuckin badass skis. I kinda wanna hump 'em sometimes." "Yeah? Me too." "I'm not really sure which is stranger." "Congratulations. your facebook is now a fucking cat calendar for grandmas everywhere." "I don't want to go nowhere if its a buncha long haired hippie types sittin' around in their pajamas cryin'." - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - "Lukewarm acceptance is much more bewildering that outright rejection." MLK Jr. "Our capacity remains undiminished. But our time of standing pat, of protecting narrow interests and putting off unpleasant decisions — that time has surely pa...

"When God gives you lemons, you find a new god." "Well, the good news is that you did not curse out the valet... or any of my fancy pants friends... Oh wait... no, you did cuss out a dude who complimented my cute stylish boots. Just remembered that one" "So I made it through, not cussing at the shaggy long haired dude who told me all about skiing the "black diamonds" and his dead wife, AND through the guy who wouldn't stop hitting on me even though I told him I was married, but I cussed out the guy who complimented your boots?" "It's not a unicorn...it's a horse with a sword on its head that guards my hopes and dreams..." "It was a dark and steamy night in Vegas. She had just started twittling her twattle when...." "I just hang out with you guys cuz you're all smart and you're cheaper than college." And men, this book not only offers many examples of how to improperly use "quotation marks...

So I wrote this book and I think it's pretty decent. That's the feedback I'm getting anyway, which is bitchin' really since I have a degree in Education, NOT writing. Plus, this is my first try, so really I should be happy, right? But, turns out writing the book is maybe the easy part. The publishing is another story. You have to find a Literary Agent. To do this, you have to write a 1-3 page letter to many literary agents to convince them to read a sample chapter. Send it with a Self addressed stamped envelope (SASE) and wait. there's more but I'm already experiencing a high level anxiety just writing about this part. In my letter, I'm supposed to explain who I am, what my book's about, why I'm qualified to write it, why its sicky illy good, who'll read it, and on and on. AHHHHHhhhhh! This shit scares me. Also, I'm supposed to be witty, clever, literary, and junk. Oh and explain a 300 page book in a sales pitch. I'm not a frea...

dip a toe in my mind a dull, blank slate shocked by the temperature Buddha would be proud me in the moment I crawl from one end to the other rays of sun cracking through my mind, waking, darts around a pinball hitting subjects ding! But Buddha can't frown besides I just got high score. After a time, my mind settles into a routine one, two, three, four, five Breathe stroke, kick, glide, push, turn Breathe and a subject, presents itself: you. I picture you grinning underwater watching bubbles bursting at the surface forming a layer of hot air bullshit between you and the living world above you The skin of ice expands thickens protects you down to earth genuine Your hair sways and the low rumble of bubbles bursting is the only sound

Her nest sits empty cracked eggs, blue and speckled used for someone else's breakfast not the babes they were meant to be the kitchen's now too clean you could eat off the floor so no one does the way they used to no crayon marks alert "off limits" noises' echoes long lost on a breeze now no cries no protests not a peep is heard. The mother hen, unemployed now, is only an Anonymous Woman, who has lost her downy jacket, shivering.

"Holy Mary giving Joseph a donkey show….what the fuck has happened to this blog?" "She's crazier than a rat in a drain pipe." "I just sold some used panties." "Ew! Were they moist vagina panties? Or crisp molded ones? Heehee." "You just got a lung full of Dean's butt. That was totally in Dean's butt and now its in your lungs." "Gay kitties everywhere applaud you for your efforts. And yes, they are watching you on your balcony. The gay kitties, I mean. They're watching you." "And what if they see something in my house that they like and come for it? Like my rare collection of dust bunnies or that weird doll I got for my birthday?" "I don't believe in the moon. I think its the back of the sun." "I paid you two thousand dollars and five hundred dollars as well." "Has not hittin' a bitch been workin' for you? I mean, scientifically speaking, has not hittin' a ...

Why yes, yes he did. Muskrat sent me the following rules, which I will likely disregard 1. Leave me a comment saying, "Interview me." 2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. I get to pick the questions. 3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions. 4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post. 5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions. Then, he sent me the following questions which I may or may not answer as I see fit to make up or avoid cuz its my blog and I'll lie if I want to. Its called "creative license," look it up. 1) Where do you find your Friday quotes? Real life, blogs, both? In Sweden, live little men called Tomtes, (pronounced tom-tahs,) They have beets for ears and live exclusively by hunting mushrooms. They are fueled by a vicious hatred of being confused with yard gnomes and therefore travel all their days, murdering and behead...

My mom has this really weird friend who acts super tweaked out and really she probably is, but also she's just weird. This is the series of things she put together to give my mom for a 60th birthday present. Also, the dumb meth head was in front of the restaurant waving wildly when we arrived for my mom's SURPRISE 60th birthday party. Dumb bitch. So even if she weren't weird, I'd probably find a way to work her over on my blog. Since she's weird though, it works out nicely. This is the hideous bag she gave my mom her birthday present in. Notice how stylishly he sports it with a kitten inside. Did I mention he knows how to keep the cat in the bag, even if the crazy meth lady doesn't? Not one Not two But four Calendars in the Christmeth present bag Don't forget the sea salt, And my mom's house key back Just cuz. Making her this week's Wednesdays Weirdo: Christmeth Present Giver

So at Christmas with my in-laws we played Dirty Santa/White Elephant/Screw Your Neighbor... wait, scratch that last one, that's a drinking game. The present I ended up with, was a 3 foot tall, skinny, glass vase. I had no way to get it home, even if I'd wanted to. I didn't want to. Instead, I decided we should put beer in it. This seemed totally appropriate at the time. I started us off. Then Rob got into the game. (Sorry for the blur. All technology hates me and I am incapable of buying a decent piece of anything but shit.) Finally, my mother-in-law, Sheila, proved once again, how freakin' rockin' cool she is. You didn't know it at the time, but this was your elementary school counselor. Or could've been, if you were lucky. I love Christmas with the In-Laws