Sunday, February 26, 2006
Thursday, February 23, 2006
If this is true, I think there will be a lot of arguments like this in court:
"You can see, Your Honor, that it was just a simple misunderstanding. I wasn't planning to steal his shoes. I was just taking them OFF so I could molest him. "
Thursday, February 16, 2006
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
A gun club in The-Very-Exact-Center-Of-Nowhere, Pennsylvania.
And next to this Middleofnowhere gun club, there was a tire store. And this tire store had a sign on it that said, "We sell exotic birds."
I think that's good.
'Cause you know when you're having a bad day and you get a flat tire, you can be like, "Damnit, I got a flat tire. But at least now I have an excuse to pick up that pelican I've been wanting."
Oooh, also I didn't get shot.
Monday, February 13, 2006
1) A Los Angeles plastic surgeon
2) A Beverly Hills plastic surgeon
3) New York botox
4) Botox New York (similar, yet somehow different.)
5) New York liposuction
6) Los Angeles cosmetic surgery
7) Used cars in San Diego
p.s. I got paid to put up these links. But I still don't want any of these things for Valentine's Day. I will, however, happily accept gifts of flowers and small cakes and possibly light-up socks.
Thursday, February 09, 2006
This involves, of all people, the Danish.
As I understand the issue, one somebody started insulting another somebody's God and pretty soon people were setting stuff on fire.
This is perplexing to me since I don't even believe in God.
Which I guess explains why I get so angry everytime I see a blank cartoon.
Tuesday, February 07, 2006
The votes have been tallied. Most of you aren't very good decision-makers but, in a very close race, the winning story is:
THAT TIME I MOVED FROM MONTANA TO IDAHO IN A CATTLE TRUCK
The first thing you should know is that in this story, I am seven years old so I'm not the one deciding that moving from Montana to Idaho in a cattle truck is an excellent idea. Even at the age of seven, I knew the idea was freakin' nuts.
The second thing you should know is that sometimes my dad has ideas that are freakin' nuts. Like the time that he decided that we should keep chickens and ducks and rabbits in our back yard even though we didn't live on a farm or have a surrey with a fringe on top or anything and my dog just ate all of the animals except the one duck who drowned in the wading pool. Like that.
Curiously, a lot of my dad's weird ideas involve farm animals.
I think I shall pour myself a glass of wine to drink while I write this story. Not an easy feat, since I have a roll of tape on my head, but I think I can do it. Yes, mission accomplished.
The final thing you should probably know is that my dad works for the government. And sometimes he would get a NEW job with the government and we would have to move. We weren't running from the law or anything, probably.
In any case, the government pays for its employees to move when they get a new job. But, back then, the government would just allocate a certain amount of money for the move and you could spend it however you like. So my father, in a flash-of-brilliance, realized how much money we would SAVE if only we didn't have to pay for that pesky, unnecessary moving van. Particularly when there is a vehicle that is virtually the same as a moving van that one can rent for much cheaper. This would, of course, be a cattle truck. And by "virtually the same," I mean "smells like cow poop."
So into said cattle-truck went all of our furniture and clothing and everything we held precious and dear. Oh, and also our dog. And a kitten we found alongside the road. The kitten's name was Poo Poo (NOTE: never let your seven-year-old name your kitten.) The dog's name was Bosley. Sometimes he ate bees. Both he and my dad were missing some logic-muscles, I think.
Would a stapler work? Do you think I could balance a stapler on my head? Sigh.... No more wine for me.
There is good news, though. In an amazing feat, all of our precious furniture and suchlike did NOT end up smelling like cow poop at all. How is this possible, you ask? Well, luckily shortly before climbing into the cattle truck for his adventurous journey, Bosley decided to say a friendly goodbye to Montana by way of getting sprayed by a skunk.
So the story ends with my parents, a seven-year-old me, Bosley, and a very confused kitten living with skunky furniture for about the next ten years.
Monday, February 06, 2006
1) The time I moved from Montana to Idaho in a cattle truck.
2) The time I wore roller skates to my college formal.
3) My hair transplants in New Jersey story (technically I have no story about this. It is an excuse to put up a link like the blogstitute I am. But someday I might have a story about a New Jersey hair transplant and the splendid hair restoration surgeon that performed it, and boy will you be glad you voted for my hair transplant New Jersey story then. That's all I have to say about hair transplants right now. Sigh....this is exhausting.)
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
When I first started my blog, I wrote this:
Both men and women list a good sense of humor as the top quality they want in a mate. It is interesting to note, however, that, to women, a good sense of humor means "someone that makes me laugh." Whereas to men, a good sense of humor means "someone who laughs at my jokes."
I thought I was making a joke. But apparently somebody did a study.
Do tell me what you think, please.