Merry Christmas bitches

Since we're becoming the crazy cat/dog ladies, I felt I should post "Christmas with Bob." Bob is gone now, but he always loved a well lit tree.

Merry Christmas to my bitches! And a Happy New Year!

Lounging Lila

Ladies...Gentlemen...Larry...
Meet Lila, the newest Midnight Margaritas puppy pal.

Sincerely,
Jenny "Joining the Pet Club One Pet at a Time" Dehonga

Pepe's Lounge

How is it possible we didn't know about THIS WEBSITE???

Flipper, Merlin, and Satan

I really don't want to be the one who keeps posting here, but I just ran across some of the most facinating trivia and I thought I would share it with all of you.

First of all did you know that the original dolphin Mitzie who played "flipper" in the movie got paid $1 per day? I find it really interesting that they paid HER since there was no internet and she couldn't exactly walk into a grocery store and buy some...I don't know...fish? This is particularly interesting as I think the fisherman owner of Mitzie was also paid. This bring up a question I have...can a dolphin have a bank account? Why a dollar a day? And what would a dolphin shop for if she were able to? I'm going with a shark gun on that last one.

Second of all, I found another Medieval Musical: "Merlin" oh yes, 1983 at it's finest. It includes a black panther that gets turned into a girl and a fabulous song "Satan Rules". So now we have a choice for medieval congress: "Dragons the Musical" or "Merlin the Musical". I wonder if we could perform both? I really wish you all could see the BeeGee'sesque Merlin on the cover of the book! It's precious. Simply precious.

Better the Crazy You Know, Than the Crazy You Don't

Okay, it's finally getting to me. If I hadn't had to ride home sitting next to the guy who smelled supiciously of skunk or just WAY too much coffee I probably wouldn't be complaining, but I did and so I am. So I got to the elevator this morning and I pressed the button to no avail. This guy shouts from the other elevator "hey, here's one!" and I thought "how nice." Well, it turned out the good samaritan was CRAZY. Yes, he's off to the law library to print something out and then he's going to disbar some laywers and let me tell you, he was way too emphatic about it to be sane! Oh! How I miss the days of Bruce White "hi...this is... Bruce White...Can you..uh...tell me if...uh..Baking Soda Frog Man has been..uh...cataloged yet?" And then he'd call back every 2 hours for the next 3 days asking the same damn question!! The man sounded like he'd had a stroke, but it's just the LSD overdose. Did I mention he was allergic to the sun and never left the house? Now I'm in a city full of them. They lurk around outside and they see me coming. Oh yeah. I must look like a nice person or something. I try not to make eye contact. I hold my breath so I don't have to smell the b.o. or the urine, but they talk to me anyway. Can't avoid it. Light rail passes are a buck fifty. Hang outside Starbucks long enough and you'll get ten times that. Man. I'm just dreading going home tonight!

I WANT ONE!!!!

Did any of you know about this?! It is AWESOME! And it SINGS!!!

Well... all my Christmas shopping is officially done...

Vending Machine Madness

So blame in on the cold, blame it on the lactose intolerance, blame it on whatever you like, but I just finished counting all the chip selections in our vending machine at work.

Did you know, out of 15 chip selections 10 of them were cheese? Is there a problem with this country? 10 out of 15 are cheese. There isn't even a plain potato chip in the bunch. There's the jalapeno chip, the barbeque chip, the sour cream and chive, the sun chip, and the steak chip. Is there a reason we need 3 slots for Doritos? 2 for cheezits? A chili cheese fito? And so on and so on? What the bleep? What's with the cheese man! It's not even good cheese! Okay, I'm a professed cheese snob and I don't actually eat chips, but if I did I'd be hard pressed to find one in that vending machine I wanted! Fortunately the ratio of nonchocolate to chocolate in the vending machine is 4 to 6 which is more than fair considering all the bleeping cheese!!! I didn't say it was very good, the candy, it was just not all chocolate which is a good thing. Like I'm going to eat some stale old chocolate when the sour jolly ranchers are all smushy and melted together. Can you imagine the state of the chocolate? Not good. Not good at all and I'm not very fond of chocolate either so I pretty much avoid it at all cost (unless it's German, or dark chocolate, or has some hope of being good!).

I feel better now. Thank you all for being there in my time of outrage.
Cheese Out.

OH. MAH. GAH.

mfrost.typepad.com/cute_overload

This website is like removing the cake part and eating too much of the frosting and then passing out from the sugar coma that ensues. But I love it.

(And, FYI, Wingal, I have suspicians that the person behind the captions may be our long-lost Maweah.)

"Meatloaf, smeatloaf, double-beatloaf. I hate meatloaf."

And by "meatloaf", I mean work. And by "hate" I mean "I am mildly annoyed at coming in after 4 days off and the look on my pugs faces this morning when they realized I was going to work today was enough to make you cry."

So, how has everyone else's post-turkey haze worn off? How are things now that you have wiped the last of the crusty stuffing and cranberries from your face?

Hey! Let Me Give You a Little Thanks!

Hola, ladies! Happy Thanksgiving! I wanted to post some delicious food pictures before you got here, but of course this morning I can't post pictures at all for some reason. But I've got my mimosa in front of me which is of course much better than a photo of a mimosa, and I'm feeling thankful. (P.S. I'm Jenny)

Thanksgiving Dinner, Blog-style

We desperately need a new posting and I realized that a week from tomorrow is our national feast holiday. So, I'm inviting you to Thanksgiving Dinner on our blog. I'm bringing broccoli/cheese casserole and pumpkin pie, because they're really the only things I'm capable of making. I'm also going to bring my insecurity issues as regards my dissertation and a refusal to get along with at least one person, so that everyone else feels like they're walking on eggshells. I think that person will be Fezziwig who, though a dog, has personish tendencies and will undoubtedly grovel. Next?

Alright. I'll be there with the Grand Marnier Cranberry Sauce, the sweet potato gnocchi in brown butter, and a bottle of Three-Buck Chuck. Also, I'll be bringing the half-baked, misinformed, drunken political ramblings and a sense of righteous indignation about the American consumerism that plagues the holiday season (which I will mainly discuss in between telling everyone about the awesome electronic gifts I found for my parents and the sale decorations I picked up at Cost Plus). Additionally, I will probably take Fezziwig's side, but secretly, so relations will still feel unbearably awkward and no one will be quite sure where the alliances lie.

My mom. She will do the dishes. Why? B/c she has a dishwasher.

"The Angry Electorate... Unleashing Sweeping Change"

Ah, Election Tuesday. Brian Williams is in excellent voice tonight and every channel is covering the elections in flamboyant style. They're turning the elections into a thing deserving to be memorialized in Shakesperean drama. No rock will go unturned... no point of minutia is too small! Does it bother anyone else that one night every two years the media spends time covering our government in a disturbingly thorough way but spends most of the rest of the year talking about Madonna adopting an African child or issues like abortion and bird flu, which have no answers? That bothers me. It bothers me that our country is broken. Our government is broken. And these things aren't broken beyond repair and they haven't been broken by the American people; they've been broken by the career politicians that Americans blindly trusted and voted into office; they've been broken by the divisive tactics of people like Karl Rove and his ilk. None of this has to do with Democrat or Republican, it has to do with spending more time finding commonalities, not focusing on our differences.

I think I'm ready to be Swiss. At least they have hot chocolate.

I don't want this to instigate a full-on political discussion, as this blog is meant to be anything BUT serious. But I just can't help but reflect on my country today... and rejoice in the fact that in just a few short hours all of the miserable, mud-slinging campaign ads will be a thing of the past and I can start crying over Hallmark commercials again and thinking about the pleasant time of the year that comes after this misery. And let me encourage you all to give to "Toys for Tots" this year... last year they only got enough donations to give to half of the children they wanted to, and that makes me sad. 'Tis the Season.

"Dragons: the Musical"

So let's face folks, there's a lot of people interested in the Middle Ages out there and not all of them have taken the time to, um, do any research on the time period. Sure they've seen "Braveheart", "Camelot", "Willow", and "Legend", but have they ever picked up a book that wasn't fiction? No. Not really.

So there it was, the script of "Dragons: the Musical", staring me in the face. At first I only caught the word "Dragon" which naturally peeked my interest. So I took it out of the box and started flipping through the crumbled and well used pages. The first thing my eyes alighted upon was the word "Charelmagne" as king of the play, the second was "Lancelot", and the third was...and get this..."Cat". Yes there is a part for a singing/talking/and interacting cat in this musical. A musical called "Dragons". Man, what do you do with that kind of information? First thing I thought was "Wow, I've never heard of it, it MUST be really bad." The second thing I thought was "Charlemagne and Lancelot in the same play? Really? They lived 300 years appart at the very least." And then I thought "Wait a minute Lancelot is a figment of some french dudes' imagination so it doesn't really matter where and when he gets placed so it must be okay, right?" And then I thought "Oh what the heck, this is gold! I can't wait to read this thing!!"

And now, dear friends, I impart this wonderful and delightfully corny information on to you--medievalists and non-medievalist alike. It's just too precious to keep to myself. Perhaps it is an excellent play. Perhaps it was underappreciated in '80's and is in need of a serious revival. Perhaps someday, someone will go: "Wait, a singing cat? Really? Gosh darn it all, this play is FANtastic! Let's get a troop together and start touring!!" Besides, I know the PERFECT french dinosaur to play "the Dragon"...and he can sing!!

Can I get a "Hell Yeah"?

LOS ANGELES (Hollywood Reporter) - Jim Henson's "Fraggle Rock" is coming to the big screen.

The 1980s cult hit TV show is being developed by Ahmet Zappa -- younger son of Frank Zappa -- into a full-length live-action musical fantasy starring the classic characters.

Zappa -- a musician and TV personality who will serve as the project's executive producer -- is developing a treatment in which puppet stars Gobo, Wembley, Mokey, Boober and Red will travel from beneath the Rock and venture into the human world for the first time.

"The Fraggles didn't really get into the human world on the series, so we plan to make the movie more about the intersection between the Fraggles and the humans," Lisa Henson said.

Zappa is informally talking to musician friends about writing original songs for the movie. The original Henson puppets will be refurbished and updated for the film, with little expectation of computer-generated enhancements.

A release date has yet to be determined. Lisa Henson plans to hire a screenwriter and director once an initial treatment is completed.

When asked for a comment, Larry said:

Margarita Girls for Co-Supreme Mistresses of the Universe

There's a calendar for purchase at Borders that has a countdown to the end of G.W.'s presidency. Each day marks one day less and names an important event in W's presidency that happened on said day (and they're not flattering events... which isn't entirely surprising). And each month is a different goofy-ass picture of him and an actual, Bush-like, nonsensical quote.

And I think that we should run, as a team, for World Dominatrixes. My Latin's disfunctioning... Dominatrices? What's the plural, Larry? Well, whatever it is, let's do it. Let's outline our platform. Just edit this post to tack on more, guys. I'll start.

1. Worldwide, universal healthcare.
2. Raise minimum wage to $12.00/hour.
3. Multi-million/billionaires can make no more than $200,000 a year and the rest of their earnings go to charities.
4. A stupidity tax will be levied on all those people who voted for G.W. or who fail to use their turn signals.
5. GAY MARRIAGE!
6. Every citizen receives an allotment of wine and chocolate brownies delivered to them biweekly. It's a lot. Of both.
7. Gerard Butler, Colin Firth, Hugh Jackman, Hugh Laurie, and Henry Rollins have to be my live-in personal assistants. I'm willing to share Henry with Boobarella... a sort of joint-custody arrangement; alternating weekends.
8. Pat Robertson and his followers will be exiled to Antarctica.
9. Any home worth more than $500,000 will be broken up to accomodate the homeless along with the current homeowners.
10. We will stop the manufacture of SUVs that get less than 28 mpg highway, belly shirts, mini-skirts, and Britney Spears CDs.
11. At age 16 every person must get a job in the customer-service industry so that they learn how to be respectful of others, how to be good consumers, and how to be self-sufficient and not mooch off their parents.
[NEXT...]

12. Implement the "Hennessy for Plutonium" program with North Korea and their bouffant-coiffed dictator for life, Kim Jong Il

Boobarella's Favorite Kitchen Utensil

Do you have anything to declare?

Yes sir I am aware that my carry-on exceeds the legal limit. Oh, yes I can open my bag. Umm it's called Dream Phone. Dream Phone. No really look at the box. . no I'm not trying to be smart. Yes it's a game for pre-teen girls where you call boys and follow the clues to see who likes you. No I have never been to Tehran. No I don't know the boys actually...well no the game is fiction you call them on the fake pho..NO IT"S NOT A BOMB, jeeesus christ sir, it's a fake phone. Okay can you please uncuff me I'll show you how it works. That's a dial tone. Yeah, cell phones...no I'm not mocking you sir, I realize that you are old enough to be my dad, but you asked a question. Okay so see you dial the number on the phone and then the guy...NO STOP! AGH!! LET GO!! IT"S THE MYSTERY CALLER! Damnit, let me finish, the mystery caller calls with other clues. No I don't know who she is and if she has any ties to Al-Qaida. No, I bit that card because one time when I was playing...yes I have played this before...anyway one time when I was playing that boy gave me no help, but mocked me on the pho...yes I realize that the game is fake and me biting the card seem...well we were drunk and being silly...no sir I do not think your job is a game. Look, it's a harmless game that my girl friends and I are going to play on our PSSWR...no not PISSWAR. It's just an abbriviation...for "point-something-sexybitches. . ." no sir I don't think you are retarded. I just want to go to New York and get drunk with my friends and play Dream Phone. No I'm not going to Manhattan, I'm going to upstate New York...yes there is more state north of Manhattan. No, sir, I did not mean to disrespect you like that. I am sorry.

Now please, believe me, I do not know who the mystery caller is. I wish I did. I wish I did...

Point-Something Sexybitches Winetastic Roadtrip, '07, pt.2

Ladies- I propose the Keuka Lake wineries. Not only will it guarantee we hit Bully Hill, but these wineries are also on this lake:

1. Hunt Country Vineyards
2. Keuka Spring Winery
3. Rooster Hill Vineyards
4. Barrington Cellars & Buzzard Crest Vineyards
5. McGregor Vineyard Winery
6. Keuka Overlook Wine Cellars
7. Bully Hill
8. Heron Hill Winery
9. Dr. Konstantin Frank's Vinifera Wine Cellars

This is not the largest of the lake and therefore doesn't have the most wineries, but we can always detour over to Seneca Lake if time allows.

"Adventure?!"

Boobarella and I have a proposition to make to all of you and we're very serious about it. We were talking over the weekend about how both of us will be celebrating our 30th birthdays this winter (mine, December; hers, January). And then we talked about how we knew others who have birthdays around the same time and how it would be really nice to just have one big birthday party. Too bad it's in the winter. And that's when I said, "What about HALF birthday? That would be Juneish?"

Here we extend our invitation: We would like to celebrate 30.5 by getting together all of our groovy friends in one place. Namely, a tour of the wineries around one of the Finger Lakes in upstate New York. We'll go in May/June/July, all fly in to the same airport (what was it? Buffalo?) rent a car (or cars, depending on how many of you would like to participate), and hit a bunch of wineries, staying in bed and breakfasts, relaxing on the occasional beach, and, oh yeah, hitting wineries.

It'll be like "Sideways," only all girls and no dysfunctional-emotional crap. This advance notice gives everyone time to plan and to save up money. And yes, we are totally serious. If none of the rest of you want to, we're going ourselves. But we'd really like other people to come. We promise to play "Dream Phone." Who's in?

Dream Phone

We have to say, "Where the fuck is Jenny?" Because Boobarella and Wingal be doing all kinds of crazy shit, and she ain't here. Dude... Southwest... "DING! You are now free to move about the country... bitch." This posting is a team effort.

So, Boobarella likes teenage boys. Two rounds of "Dream Phone," and she got both Jamal and Spencer. Wingal is pissed, as all she's gotten is a glass of water with a strawberry in it and a dog shart. Thank you, Fezzi.

Isn't Bruce dreamy? In a 12-year-old-in-the-closet kind of way?

We went to a wedding in Grand Rapids. Had a better chance with the young studs of "Dream Phone," though they were about the same age as the guests at the wedding. Never been to a wedding before where we didn't know half the music. The highlight was when the Mother of the Bride asked the bride and bridesmaids: "Who's THAT slut?" No, not us. For a change.

Then we drove back on 94W to Chicago. Construction of the sort that caused severe ass vibration... Fo' Real. About 10 miles of it, that culminated in orgasmic screams of joy when the construction ceased to be. No, seriously. Instead of a satisfying cigarette, a Donette. Chocolate variety. Eaten whole. Just like my last date. Said Boobarella. Whose husband is in England. I told you she was popular with the prepubescent boys. Yeeeee-ah, bitch.

There were excretions.

And puddings. And wine. And more wine. All that's left is gin. And 1/8 of tequila. Mixed: Tequila No-Sunrise.

Tomorrow we're going to see another prepubescent boy. A dead one. Tut. Funky Tut.

And she'll get him too. *SIGH*

Write a Caption... #4

Come on ladies, let's get this party started. Again.

Papillon Senility

Abby is a 16.5 year old, eight pound Papillon. (I'll post a picture tomorrow, after I've scanned one.) She is sliding into senility, which I think is to be expected of a dog that is, in dog years, close to 113. How do we know she's senile? Well...

1. She gets lost in the front yard, and is only called back by loud clapping.
2. She can't find a treat you put directly in front of her face, though she intuitively knows if you're making spaghetti or have entered the house with fried food.
3. Owing to loss of depth perception, she jumps off of furniture like a flying squirrel (limbs out wide; a leap of faith).
4. If you call for her, she turns her head every which way and then goes to my Mom.
5. She leaves the room if she senses the presence of: a fly, nail clippers, nail file, scissors, or my neice.
6. She has taken to napping under the dining room table and inevitably hits her head on the table rungs when she gets up.
7. If you pick her up, she goes Tasmanian Devil on you.
8. If Dad puts his left hand in the air, she barks at him like a mad thing.
9. Ditto if he starts to fall asleep.
10. If you ask for her paw, with her head down she looks up and to the side at you, and you stop asking.
11. She paces from the livingroom to the bedrooms and back about 100 times a day.
12. She has to go outside and get lost in the yard every half hour.
13. After 16 years she finally discovered the fire hydrant at the edge of our yard. It's always been there.
14. She still sleeps on my bed, but only until 3:45 a.m. Then she goes out to her own.
15. She still runs around in circles like a crazy puppy... she just does it for no reason, runs into more stuff, and passes out sooner.

Puppies, Croissants, and World Peace

So my sister recently asked me what I want for my upcoming birthday and, after considering carefully, I told her homemade croissants and World Peace. Of course, she naturally assumed that by "World Peace" I meant her beagle-mix Sophie. I immediately realized that, even after knowing her for nearly 29 years, I still have no idea how her brain works. But it got me thinking. (Although not hard.) For the last two-and-a-half minutes I have been exhaustively analyzing and pondering her words ("By World Peace, I assume you mean Sophita"). And I have come to several conclusions:

1. If everyone in the world had a dog, we'd probably have a real shot at World Peace. It's hard to think about nuking your neighbor when your dog thinks of him as "Mr. Delicious Biscuit, that guy who knows exactly where my Perpetual Itch is located."

2. If Osama bin Laden had a dog, we'd have caught him months ago when he left the cave to walk his furry friend early one morning. Dogs need lots of exercise after all. Running from American troops is just one way to get it and for most dogs, it's probably not going to be enough.

3. Dogs make people we don't like more likeable. We might not like bin Laden even if he had a dog, but I bet we'd be more likely to say hello when we passed him on the street, and that would go a long way towards World Peace. (Wait - does George W. have a dog?)

4. Dogs would make great ambassadors. We'd have the whole world sharing from each other's water bowls, howling in unison, and sniffing butts together in no time. And at long last, I might add.

5. Instead of sending troops out, we should probably just ship loads of properly-weaned puppies to places like Iraq or North Korea. I think it would solve a lot of conflict.

6. My sister could probably use a ball of cream cheese rolled carefully around some kind of medication.

7. I could use some medication.

8. Dogs make great medication.

9. I really just need a dog for my birthday.

10. ...which is on October 9. Write that down.

Make it work!

So do you fine fine bitches watch Project Runway? It's on Bravo. It's really the only reality TV that I can stand for too long and it's hilarious. But the best part are these two queens:

http://projectrungay.blogspot.com/

Holy shit! Even if you don't watch the show their blog is awesome.

Pants-off Dance-off

Indeed! It is a real show:

http://fuse.tv/upload/pantsoff.php

Get Rick Astley Out of My Head

I don't know how that rat bastard got in there, but "Together Forever" is inexplicably on Play/Repeat in there and I think I'm going to have to jam something in my ear to remove him.

Another Dream from Wingal

Two last night, actually, though one isn't as interesting... it was essentially a High School Reunion on a train that stopped someplace so we could pick berries, and one of the girls I hated in high school kept purposely hindering me from picking berries, so I slammed her against a tree, picked some, and then she told on me and I got in trouble. *SIGH*

The other one, though, was far more interesting. It involved all of my sorority sisters and the entire guest list from Samantha's wedding (your parents were in my dream, and Amanda and EVERYONE else). The Delta Zetas and I were all living in various stores in a mall, which was great because we had all been invited (along with the guests at Samantha's wedding) to Ellen Degeneres's birthday party. I don't even watch her show, so I have no idea where that came from. Anyway, the party was on the top floor of the skyscraper that contained the mall in which we all lived. I was sharing a store (?) with Robbi, who locked me out, so I had to beg Ressler and Jenny to help me find clothes (from their stores) for the party because all I had was jeans and a Cincinnati Reds shirt. My hair, however, looked AWESOME. We had to take a rollercoaster to the party, which was very upsetting to Jenny, who was convinced she was going to fall out. So, we all get to the party (wherein the people from Samantha's wedding come, Kate, Paul, etc.) and there are all of these movie stars there and apparently Cher and I go WAY back!! Old friends. And also, I have a long-standing flirtation with Sylvester Stallone, who was following me around and hitting on me, wearing this black and red, sleeveless muscle shirt. It was very off-putting and I was trying to hide from him for most of the night. It all ended with a dance party out on the balcony and me throwing a shoe at somebody.

Interpretations, anyone?

Queer Eye is needed in my office.

Months of construction have some to an end in my office. We had a free day off on Friday while they painted.

The room where the photocopiers are looks like the inside of a banana's rectum.

It's so bright yellow that a play mat and some pre-schoolers would not look out of place.

There also have been several half walls that have appeared from nowhere. One is bight blue and one is purple.

I work in fucking Romper Room.

Back to the Mattress Room

We were out to dinner with friends the other night,and we were all telling stories and one of them was about how I met Causgrove.

"Wait Kevin Causgrove?" my friend asked. "We went to high school with a Kevin Causgrove."

"Little guy, glasses, seems a bit off, but still a good time?"

"Yeah!"

Did I mention my friends are from Michigan?

Moment of silence.

Let us bow our heads and say a prayer for our recently departed Pluto from the planet club. Ahh Pluto, we hardly knew ye.

Hot Hot Hot Dirty Smut for all you Bibliophiles

ooooooohhhhhhh sooooo diiiirrrttyyyyy. Now if you excuse me, I need some alone time with my reference collection...

http://thenonist.com/index.php/thenonist/permalink/hot_library_smut/

Ninjas? Pirates? Ninjas AND Pirates?!?

Okay, I'm serious. Go here right now:

www.askaninja.com/index.php

and watch Ask a Ninja: Special Delivery 7 "Pirates of the Caribbean"

No matter how much you like Johnny Depp, it is the funniest review of ANYTHING you have EVER heard. Granted, it's a little biased, considering that Ninjas and Pirates...well, you know. What with the antagonism and all. YAR.

Survivor: Midnight Margaritas

Can we vote people off this blog? (You know who you are.)

I'm just kidding, of course. I'm no fan of Survivor, but I do sometimes wish I could vote a few people out of my personal life, say, or out of the office. Or maybe I could just vote that we all get to go home early and have chocolate martinis on the house. Anyone's house. Except mine.

Yes. It's Inexplicable.

In keeping with the inexplicable Star Trek theme, this might tell us all a little more than we want to know about ourselves. Sorry I don't know how to link it. You'll just have to cut-and-paste. Quit your whining.

http://quizfarm.com/test.php?q_id=111863


And yes, we all want to know the results.

Thorn Birds

Just wanted to say that I noticed today that the young monks roaming our campus are my age and HOT. One was wearing a yellow t-shirt and a gold chain underneath his white robes and he and another monk (again, my age and HOT) were checking email. So help me, I heard one of them say "Duuuuuuude..." I don't know if I can be Catholic anymore... And the fact that the Max Scuttlebutt story is getting longer and raunchier doesn't help.

New Game: A Turtle's Story

(So let's all write a story, a paragraph at a time. Leave elipses to mark the end of the section, so we know where people left off and picked up. Wingal will begin:)

Once upon a time there was a turtle named Max Scuttlebutt and he was a loser. He was completely incapable of dressing himself, mostly because he always made bad choices. For example, he generally purchased his clothing from Sears. He went everywhere on a tricycle with a "I love Dick Cheney" bumpersticker on the rear. He had gotten a picture of William Shatner tatooed to his shell. He also only listened to techno music and frequently drank Zima. Most of his friends suspected that Max might be gay, but Max didn't think that he was. In fact, he had been looking for a new girlfriend for ages, but no one would have him because ... he smelled like macaroni pretty much all the time.

One afternoon, Max thought he'd take his trusty tricycle up into the mountains, reasoning that he'd have a much better chance of finding a woman if he could figure out where they were hiding, and that being high up would give him a nice view of potential hiding places. He also thought it not unreasonable to hope for a clear view down someone's neckhole. It had been a long time. As he cycled up and up and up, the air began to thin and Max began to see things out of the corners of his eyes. Well, he'd always had bad vision. Surely he was imagining things. So he kept on. Finally Max rounded the bend that would take him up the final winding trail to the highest point where he could look down and search for women. There was a sudden movement ahead of him. Max blinked. Oh, that's strange, he thought, peddling a little faster. I could swear I just saw a ...

. . .Starbucks. But why the hell would there be one out here in the mountains? Max back peddled to see if he was hallucinating or if indeed he could stop for a breather and get himself a Venti iced-half-caf-tripple-mocha-latte-with no foam. The thought of the tasty beverage made his nipple hard with anticipation. Indeed! It WAS a Starbucks. Oh eternal joy and rapture! Max dropped his bike, totally forgetting his earlier plan of spotting poontang from above, and rushed to the barista. His effervescent pasta smell filled and cleared the area around the food counter. Fumbling for his wallet, Max looked up at the barista to order his pretentious-nipple-hardening drink, when suddenly. . .

...he realized that the barista was Bruce Vilanch from T.V.'s "Hollywood Squares." Knowing that Bruce Vilanche was capable of eating ANYTHING and fearing for his life, Max started to back away. As he did so, Bruce Vilanch burst into tears and started sobbing uncontrollably over the previous customer's espresso. "Mr. Vilanch?" Max said plaintively, still fearing for his life, but also being a caring individual. "Are you okay?" Bruce straightened himself up and said, "You thought I would eat you, didn't you? Everyone's still afraid I'm going to eat them." Bruce sighed heavily and Max took pity on him. Max waited around until Bruce went on break and then the two of them bonded over chocolate chip scones and Grande iced chai lattes. Upon learning of Max's burning desire for lady turtle poontang, Bruce laughed and slapped his thigh jovially. "It's your lucky day," Bruce exclaimed to Max. "It just so happens that when I'm not working at Starbucks, I secretly pimp out young female turtles. As a matter of fact, I gots me one little biatch who's willing to take her shell off for...

...anyone who quacks like a duck. Realistically, of course."
"Of course," said Max calmly. Inside, however, he was squirming. If there was one thing Max was good at, it was quacking like a duck. Realistically. "If you're interested," said Bruce slyly, "She's right around back..." Max hastily stood up. "Am I!" He paused, "Would you like the rest of my chocolate chip scone?" "Would I!" exclaimed Bruce, and Max headed out to the alley behind Starbucks, a shady place if there ever was one. He shivered and peered into the shadows for poontang. "Hi there, big fella," someone whispered. Max jumped. There she was, the turtle of his dreams. Voluptuous, sensual, green and pebbly...and all but naked. She stood before him wearing only stilettos, twirling her shell seductively on a finger. "Quack for me, baby," she demanded suddenly, tossing her shell over the coarse skin of her luscious shoulder. Max melted. He quacked realistically like he'd never quacked before. Together they quacked and loved and loved and quacked there in the alley. And then it was over...much too quickly. "You're amazing, baby," she gushed. "Hold me." Max complied. As he stood there, however, he noticed something he'd been in too much of a hurry to notice before...Huh, I think she's a man, he thought tenderly. Wow, now it all makes a strange awesome kind of sense. William Shatner, Dick Cheney, Zima, Sears... It's true, he thought. It's always been true. I AM gay. I'm...GAY. And as he stood there in that shady Starbucks alleyway, holding his naked turtle transvestite lover in his short, stubby little arms, he raised his head. "I AM GAY!" he shouted for all the world to hear. "Gay Gay gay gay gay gay gay! And furthermore...I'M IN LOVE!" His lover gasped. Max let him/her go. "...WITH BRUCE VILANCH!" And with that, Max ran inside to consummate his relationship with Bruce, who, luckily for him, felt similarly and had no strong aversion to the smell of pasta.

THE END

My Husband

Fraggle Rock Revisited and Trekkie Time

A couple of things, briefly. Mrs. Swain wants to be the stoned Fraggle.... appropriately for her, his name is Boober. Jenny absolutely can be the sexy French Fraggle that Gobo's Uncle (played by Raphael) hooked up with in Paris. I have never thought about the seductive skills of Fraggles and I'm fairly certain Jim Henson didn't either. HOWEVER, Jim Henson was behind the movie "Labyrinth" and we all know that David Bowie's package is rather pronounced in his leotard costuming as the Goblin King, thus Jim Henson was not insensible to such sexual issues... Yes, I believe that Fraggles could be seductive. I'm sure there were Fraggle women with Doozer fetishes and I'm sure those Fraggle ladies were cast out of all good Fraggle society for gettin' freaky with the Doozers. I'm also sure that Freud would have had a field day with the fact that they lived in CAVES and that they ate the Doozers' erections (architecturally speaking). Suddenly I think Fraggles were kind of whoooores...

And secondly, my brother made me aware of the video I posted below. This is just one of several and I had a hell of a time choosing which one to post. I may gradually post the others if you all want to see them or have difficulty finding them. I watched "Trekkies" yesterday and have had "Star Trek" on the brain for a couple of days. No idea why. It's a mystery. But I always knew Spock had it in him. I always knew.

Star Trek 2.0 - Karaoke

So this is flippin' hysterical and I had to share it with you all because... I had to.

Cons**r*cy The*ries

The last thing I want is to use any key words or phrases that will draw the attention of those sexy b*tches in Hom**and Sec**ity. (From now on, we'll call them Homies - or, better yet, Ho***s.) Lord knows, Midnight Margaritas has enough problems without a government crackdown. However, it occurs to me that this most recent thwarted plan to bl*w up planes over the Atlantic has actually hit us right where it hurts the most: our carry-on luggage. There are people right now in the middle of TRANSATLANTIC FLIGHTS WITHOUT CARRY-ON LUGGAGE. Or bottles of water. (Or, apparently, lipstick - but I don't really get that part. I don't know what kind of b*mb you'd be able to make with a tube of Lava Love Red, other than, maybe, a sex-b*mb.) How much suffering is going on as we speak? It must be BRUTAL. And with the current state of American hysteria surely racheting itself up a notch, it's exactly the impetus the government needs to finally ban carry-on luggage for good. For our own good, of course. It makes me wonder if bl*wing things up was really the goal and if Al Qu**da was really the perpetrator. Or, alternatively, if the plot was actually successful, and Al Qu**da is a GENIUS. All I know is, I have no desire to get anywhere near a pl*ne any time soon and it has very little to do with b*mbs.

In Honour of My New Neighbor

O how I would like to kill, kill, kill
Kill, kill, kill; kill, kill, kill
O how I would like to kill, kill, kill
That bastard who lives upstairs.

I want to wring his neck with hands bare
Crush his windpipe, tear out his hair
Paint his nails, hit him with a chair
That bastard who lives upstairs.

He's so damn loud and gets so drunk
Stands on my porch with the other punks
Knocks over my stuff, scares my monk(ey)
That bastard who lives upstairs.

But we all know I'm not an evil gal
Such a sweetie, lovely Wingal
The nicest person, everyone's pal
Except to that bastard upstairs.

So I will live quietly and plot
I need a boyfriend who thinks I'm hot
Preferably a tall one who moral is not
So he can kill that bastard upstairs.

"Write a Caption for this Picture and then Post it as a Comment" #3

Icelandic Typing 101

The problem with this loverly new Mac of mine was that I couldn't type in Old English on it... a real issue when one's dissertation is a linguistic study of Anglo-Saxon speeches. What to do, what to do? Then I was told that the easiest way to solve it would be to go to "International" under "System Preferences" and change from a U.S. keyboard to an Icelandic one. So I did. Well... one problem solved and one new problem found.... there are a few differences.

Where ? should be it is Þ. Where the "at" sign should be (still haven't found it) it is " . Where ; should be it's æ and on and on and on. The cool thing, though, is that now I can type in Old English and even post it on our blog. I know... you're all effervescing over THIS charming new development. Your jealousies know no bounds. It's sad, really... just sad.

Hwæt!

Just Lookin' Out for Youse Guys

Ladeez, I changed a setting to prevent those anonymous messages from getting through - feel free to change it back if you miss them.

So it's raining like a mutha out here in the great desert southwest. No, I misspoke. It's BEEN raining like a mutha for more than a week and all the rivers - yes, because we actually feel justified in calling them rivers now - are flooding. Also, my street is flooded, it's raining in the Old Pueblo ladies' room, and a sinkhole has opened up next to the porta john, which is somewhat alarming. It's a balmy 80 degrees right now. If that. Meanwhile, the midwest is experiencing a heat wave. Does anyone see anything backwards about this situation?

I'm off to stock up on beer.

"Write a Caption for this Picture and then Post it as a Comment" #2

Photo #2

Pop Tarts, Beer, and Slurpies Oh My!

So it's a proven fact that those people getting ready to ride out a huricane head to Walmart for beer and after the huricane they go there to buy pop tarts.

Arg! So there I was all happy and eatting dinner when the whole house began to shake. I thought "Wow, the lightrail is really shaking the house this time!" But no, because it just kept getting worse. The floor started slipping side to side, the glasses in the cupboards started knocking, and the little dachshund went "aaaruuuh?" and ran to the window. That was the longest 10 seconds of my Midwestern life and I just sat there waiting for it to get worse with the devasting images of the 1906 earthquake playing in my brain like a bad "sepia" (thank you wingal) rerun. And when it was over and asked if I was alright (clearly nothing in the house broke or I would have mentioned it before now) I said, and I quote "Um and what have you got against the Midwest again?" After some dachshund squeezing (and he didn't even try to snag the dinner off my plate so he was wigged out too) everything was alright. Sadly I did not head to Walmart for pop tarts, instead we walked to 7/11 for surgar free slurpies. Go figure, must be that California livin' healthy thing.

Let's Play a Game

Okay, I have a fun new game for us. It's called "Write a Caption for this Picture and then Post it as a Comment". (The game's pretty simple, but the name may need a little work.)

Let the games begin.

Photo # 1:

Wingal has a Chili Pepper!!

So I was at www.ratemyprofessors.com and I looked up Wingal. Not only does she have really good ratings, but one of those students said she was hot! Soon the whole world will know of your delicious booty!

A Feline Declines Wine

For the last time, I absolutely will NOT drink that piss in a glass!




My God. I'm surrounded by imbeciles.

Last Night I Was a Pilgrim

Weirdest damn dream... it also involved bigamy (on my part--go me!) and a very "Blair Witch Project" kind of feel. It was in black and white, there was a cliff of ice that I had to climb as I tried to escape one of my spouses and his two friends who were chasing me, my other spouse, and Jenny through the woods because I had the Holy Grail. Jenny, Hubby #2 and I all stayed with this psychic, blind old lady in her cabin and Jenny and I pretended to be asleep but were really eating candies and carefully folding the wrappers into perfect squares. I ended up having to defend us all against the attack of our pursuers by ripping out their intestines with my bare hands, yelling, "You're made of snakes! You're made of snakes!" When they were dead, we burned their bodies and then continued on our journey. At the end of which (no joke), I finally became a cheerleader. Apparently it was all some elaborate form of hazing.

SO...

I wasn't in yesterday, so maybe that slowed up our blog... sorry 'bout that. But we may soon have a new addition to our blogging family. More details on that to come.

What the. . . ???!!!

Why so blue panda bear?

I expect more from us tomorrow.

Birth of a Monster

I couldn't help noticing that so far, since the monster was born, we're averaging 5 posts per day (oops...5.3) Is that normal?

Raising a Glass!

Mercy Me

How to make a Laura:

5 parts mercy
5 parts humour
3 parts ego

How to make an Erika:
5 parts mercy
1 part self-sufficiency
1 part leadership

You know, these recipes seem a little strong on mercy. Do you guys usually leave that out?

Wineshenanigans

NEWS FLASH!

LANCE BASS FROM N'SYNC IS GAY!

NEW YORK (AP) -- Lance Bass, band member of 'N Sync, says he's gay and in a "very stable" relationship with a reality show star.

Bass, who formed 'N Sync with Justin Timberlake, JC Chasez, Joey Fatone and Chris Kirkpatrick, tells People magazine that he didn't earlier disclose his sexuality because he didn't want to affect the group's popularity.

"I knew that I was in this popular band and I had four other guys' careers in my hand, and I knew that if I ever acted on it or even said (that I was gay), it would overpower everything," he tells the magazine.

Seems only Lance thought Lance was straight.

A Comment on the Post Office

Since when did the Post Office start selling random crap like stuffed animals and lapel pins? I think that, actually, if I wanted a stuffed animal I would go to... er.... not the Post Office! I wouldn't think, "Crap! Little Joey [fictional child] needs a fluffy bear buddy! Thank God I live near a Post Office! Now he won't have to go without!"

See, that's just not happening. And, incidentally, the workers actually PUSH their non-post-related wares! She said to me: "Do you need a stuffed animal? A lapel pin? We also have candy? Anything else?"

"Um, no... just stamps, thank you." ????

Inevitably the day will come--SOON--when I do run to the Post Office to buy a lapel pin, and then I will eat my words. Actually, if that day comes, I'll just eat the lapel pin and get it over with. And we wondered why it took so friggin' long for our mail to get anywhere... clearly the mail thing is interrupting their new lucrative lapel pin and stuffed animal business. How dare we bother the Post Office with our mail. We are beyond low. We are scum.

Studies on BSC part II

There was a movie made!!!!

Babysitters Club Movie Info

I propose a viewing at Wingal's place!

Performance Appraisal

There are only so many ways for me to write "I am awesome, give me more money."

The Worst Smell in the World

Kelly has just informed me that the worst smell in the world is panty hose crotch.

3 Parts Jealousy, 1 Part Silliness, and a Pinch of Salt

That's how you make a Jenny.

I did not make that up.

Mary Anne scares me.

It's Alive

Is this my fault? Did I somehow create this monster? I never thought anyone would get hurt, after all.

"Laura, Laura, look at my blog," I said. "Just look at it and make comments. I'm not really serious about it, so just, you know, browse around. I won't be hurt by what you think about it. Just, you know, you'll probably have to, you know, create a teeny tiny...you know, nothing scary...an ACCOUNT."

And now...AND NOW...

Oh, my chicken is so sauced.

(But really, I blame Erika for the entire mess.)

Off Broadway

New from the minds of Tori Amos and Stephen King:

CARRIE: THE MUSICAL!

"i'm gonna burn burn burn the prom OH YAAAAAAY, I'm gonna burn burn burn the football guys oh yayyyyy"

Studies on BSC

So I went looking. How many BSC books are there. Answer: a shit load. 131. And that's just theregualr series. That doesn't count the BSC Mysteries, the BSC Little Sisters, or the Super Best Friends or what ever the hell the other ones are called. I'll make it my point to try to read the last 15 or so to catch us all up.

However this deserves it's own titillating preview: #8 in the last series (BSC SBF or what ever the hell it is) is called "Mary Anne's Revenge" and then #11 is "Welcome Home, Mary Anne." Where did she go for books 9 & 10? Betty Ford? I'm looking for answers ladies!

Tuesday Special: Haiku for my secret lover

The hot summer day,
sweet sweat remind me of you,
how you used to tease.

Like, So OHMIGOD, What-EVER!

Yeah, so Sugarbritches and I created this loverly blog and she mocks me on it in our very first post. I just have to say, though, that it WOULD totally be "Babysitters Club" of us to use different fonts. I don't want to be Stacy, though, actually. I think that Kelly is the Stacy and maybe Jenny the Mary Anne or the Dawn and Erika must be Kristy, which makes me Claudia. Which is totally accurate because I am, clearly, an artistic young Asian girl with food hidden all over her bedroom.

Okay, so I read them; I'll admit it... I started reading them in 3rd grade and I quit reading them when I was.... actually, this is no place for true confessions.

PANTS!

"It will be TOTALLY Baby-Sitters Club of us to use different fonts, " she yelled in my ear. Well yeah but, quite frankly it works. And I know, you're just lookin' at me. . .