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

I promise I will post Wednesdays' Weirdos again next week, but the pictures for this week got trapped on my camera with a dead battery. Sorry. I suck. Instead I'll tell you a drinking story. We were in St. Louis visiting for the holidays and a rare opportunity to get annihilated with my girlfriends presented itself. I started out with two beers while I was waiting for the girls with Rob's friends. Then, when we got to the fancy-pants bar I switched to whiskey on the rocks. I'm at sea level so I think I can drink like a champ. Hmmm. After about three of these and I-don't-remember-how-many shots, I switched back to beer. Damn, I'm bright. At some point in the evening I realize that we're in a bar that used to be my favorite bar in the whole world. It was called Tangerine then. They had Go Go dancers on the bar and let you climb on it and had hand shaped chairs so your butt got held. They had trucker night where you got your drinks in mugs. They ha...

Most of my airport impulses are mildly violent. Things like tipping over peoples' baggage while they're standing too close to me, or nudging them into the railing of the moving sidewalk as they speed along, or wanting to whack the flight attendant with my purse when she tells me it isn't far enough under the seat in front of me. But sometimes I have silly impulses too. I was in the bathroom and overheard this woman talking with her family. A younger relative was asking why she wasn't going to the bathroom. "I have to stand here with our suitcases. You go ahead." came her response. My Impulse *swinging door open in one swoop and covering my face with a cape* " I'll watch your luggage!" Booo-ah-ah-ah Thank goodness for impulse control. For those who didn't realize I have any, I do. Ha.

"When I got my DUI, there was a guy in my trunk. And my license was in the trunk too." "Okay, so I got the pregnancy test and the vodka. We'll see which one wins." "You want some of my snowcone?... its ridin' dirty..." "I am French. I drink peeeeeee. I eat babies." “You mean I just put my mouth on your cockpump?” “You got egg nog on my nutmeg. I’m not sure what it means, but I want it to mean something. It should mean something dirty.” "I wish it were a lamp that would glow electric sex in my front window, so that the crackwhore who walks around our neighborhood with her little 12-year-old kid who insists he’s collecting money for the “school basketball team” would see something besides the other end of my double barreled shotgun when she comes a knockin’ at 11pm tonight." "You know what? Sometimes you've got to catch a few venereal diseases to find true love. " (tosses pistachio into tumbler of whiskey) "Ha! ...

I can't sleep My mind won't Sshhhhhh... It flits from problem to solution thoughts' corpses pile up ideas dismissed and dead to-do lists and inspirations alike layered, litter the same p i l e . Some flicker so shortly they're hardly formed before miscarried away. The best poems' lines d r i f t by in invisible ink. They float off to dreams to die, beautiful thoughts stolen away. The night nabs it all Takes my broken to-do list and why do I not shake its hand? when I wake to a blank day, why am I not grateful when the clock crows "Merry Christmas" and the phone rings says "I fixed your list! It just needed some fleshing out and more time." Instead, I stuff the pillow over my head and look for the snooze button.

Yeah Presents!!! Merry Playing Why yes, yes I am a fantastic wife. Feliz Navidad AND HAPPY SKIING!! (Aren't those the baddest ass, most sexiest skis you've ever SEEN!!!!) Look how bad they want to be on my feet. Yes, I am a snowtard.

I'm just getting back from Adult Protection Services training. I do not have the attention span to sit still for more than about 8 minutes, unless I am reading a novel, playing the piano (wait that's not still,) or writing (also not sitting still.) Ok, so I can read, but that's it. Instead I made pipe cleaner imaginary animals with the lady sitting next to me and thought of names for them. This is Bjorn. This is Romulus, his trusty steed. Sadly, Bjorn's head was too big and heavy for him to ride Romulus. So we made him Steve. Steve is strong for his frame and has wings. I tuned back in for a minute while we were discussion what to do with Mr. Smith. Mr. Smith is losing his appetite and is also losing weight as a result. His wife passed away 5 years ago and his social life has suffered. We were to come up with services. "Our group wanted to get him meals on wheels." "Maybe you could get him one meal a day at the senior center." "But what if...

There was a wind storm that knocked a 40 foot tree into our deck, taking down parts of the deck and gutters. It also took out the tomato plant we'd nursed through many summer frostings, carefully bringing it in at night, damnit. But that's beside the point. To do the work on our place, this guy, Rusty, borrowed our key. Then he lost it. He was sure he'd put it back, but hadn't. Then a couple of weeks after talking with our neighbor Tom about it, this note appeared on our counter along with our key. (Here you go Rob, (and Mrs. Rob) It's just your key, but it looks like a present.) It felt a little like a present too. It was way more exciting that just picking up our key from under the mat.

When I was around 6, my cousin told me that whenever you smell something, it's tiny particles of that thing floating into your nostrils. So when you smell poop, or even farts, its actually poo particles floating into your nose. I was pooping on the toilet at the time. First I plugged my nose. But then I was breathing through my mouth. Ahhhh!!!! Shit in my mouth!!!! I closed my mouth. I tried to hold my breath. Turning blue, I lifted my nightgown to cover my mouth and nose and breath. I panted a little. Then she said the particles are so small they can get through your nightgown. So then for about 10 years I tried to hold my breath every time while going for a world's record in fastest crapper so it wouldn't get in my nose or my mouth. Heaven forbid, she bring up this minutia while we're baking brownies. Twat.