When confronted by a stuffed olive of unknown origin, you can't assume that it contains something reasonable such as pimento or bleu cheese.

It might contain A PIECE OF WEIRD CRAZY FISH WITH SOME KIND OF JUICE IN IT THAT MAKES YOU WANT TO THROW UP AND JUNK -PUNCH WHOEVER HAD THIS TERRIBLE IDEA.

Do This Instead

Gentle Reader:

I'm going to post more stuff soon. I swear to God and Amanda. I just never seem to have time to get on here at the same time I think of something interesting to say (normally between the hours of 1-5 AM) so I'm implementing a new policy.

If something comes into my little brain and I'm anywhere near a computer, I will actually write it down.

Even though I'm extremely busy doing extremely important things like making certificates for myself about how busy I am.

In the meantime, here are some entertaining diversions for you.

http://www.engrish.com/

http://www.ugliesttattoos.com/

http://www.awkwardfamilyphotos.com/

http://www.fupenguin.com/

Scallops will be asked to leave.

Bidness Plan

Alright, so here is how sucessful businesses are planned.
I have two very lucrative ideas, thought out between the brilliant business minds of myself and Ted Turner. *
The main thing to keep in mind is that the name of the business must involve a pun. In fact, create or invent the entire concept completely around this pun.

For example, I present to you my new Incorporated Surrogacy Service, Wombs to Go.
It's everything you could order up in a kid. We just take your DNA, make it a little better, and voila. Your child will come out with a birthmark on its chest that looks like the Lacoste Crocodile and will never get sick or ask to spend time with you.

That way, you don't have to worry about such trivial pregnancy details as not drinking heavily and taking pre-natal vitamins. You can concentrate on the important things a well-to-do young mother should be concerned with,
such as whether the child should be named Aysshlyn or Ayesshliynne. **
Also that the corner of the cabinet where you hide your coke stash *** is baby proofed.

My other business plan involves the development of a combination campground/marine park. Sort of like KOA meets Sea World. This will naturally be called All in Tents and Porpoises.
Right?
Look for me on the cover of FORBES.





*also myself

**neither of these

**Oh, c'mon, Girls' Night Out!

A SCANDAL REVEALED: BELOVED DISNEY CHARACTER CONFIRMED NUDIST

Goofy. Pluto.

Both dogs. One can talk. One only barks.

One wears pants. The other is completely naked. They even appear to belong to the same breed (except for the eyelids). So what's going on here? I think I may know the answer to this question that has plagued the minds of so many for so long.

PLUTO IS THE SMART ONE.

He pretends like he can't talk so that he won't have to wear clothes and gloves in the Florida heat!

He knows exactly what he's doing.

He can speak perfect English, and my sources tell me that he holds a learner's permit and when not hugging/terrifying toddlers, does side work writing political pieces for The Huffington Post.

I'm on to you, Pluto, but I'm not going to expose you (ha!) because I feel sorry for you. You're not even a planet anymore. It's OK, though, I'm not a planet either. Yet.

Jeanne's Helpful Hints for Livin'

http://www.hulu.com/watch/67664/maury-alycia---chicken-tetrazzini


If you have ever been, or have ever even considered being in a relationship with another human being, you MUST FIRST know this about the wiles and powers of a love potion that is known as Chicken Tetrazzini.

You KNOW they would be picked up for trespassing and loitering

Today, I happened to hear that song. You know, this one.

The song that was perfect for this ol' show, because it's all about how friends have to look out for each other during tough times. We've all had them. I mean who doesn't remember the awful economic days of the 90's? I know I've been there. I remember when I could mysteriously afford a huge 3-bedroom in Manhattan for no apparent reason . I'm glad my pals were there for me when we were all running around with perfect hair, an unlimited wardrobe budget, and imaginary problems. We were practically hobos, right? And then there was the time I dated Elle McPherson, bought a pet monkey, flew to Yemen, and engaged in endless witty banter. Dreary days, but somehow we made it through. Thanks, The Rembrandts, for helping us "be there" for each other when "the rain starts to fall" - better meet me at the fountain! Bring an umbrella- and a ... floor lamp?

3 way or.. no way

So I'm watching Twilight on the Dvd movie, and I'm thinking that a threesome starring me and these two would be HA-MAZING. It's all I want for Christmas, really. Or, you know... Labor Day...

But then I happen to see pictures such as these in the line at Target, and I'm going, "Could either of them even stay awake for the whole thing? You're getting paid millions of dollars and you can't muster the strength to open your eyes all the way?" I don't know, maybe it's too much coke followed by too much sun. And ol' Rob here doesn't seem to be able to bring himself to do such grueling labor as bathing himself. I think these two are just going to have to smell up the place and randomly fall asleep without me.

BUT WAIT

AFTERTHOUGHT!

I just thought you should know that one of the callers in to a radio show the other day said that she thought a "fluffer" was someone who works at Build a Bear. If you don't know what this occupation actually involves, I'd like you to meet Google.

Build-a-...better opening line?

I gotta tell you about this. My buddy Genevieve was telling me about a recent venture into the world that she'd made where there were lots of single folks about. ( she's engaged)

So this dude was flirting with her, and to be civil, she asked "So what do you do?" he replied,

"I work with.. a company ... that... builds bears".

"You mean "BUILD A BEAR?"

"Oh, you've heard of it?"

I really want to meet this guy. I mean it's a bear in a tutu, you're not really building anything. It's not a log cabin or a rocket ship. Lord love him.

I heart lyric mistakes

Take, for example, Earth Wind and Fire's "Let's Groove" which I invite you to try and figure out on iTunes or playlist.com. I have no idea what they're actually saying, but it sounds like

"Breakfast tooth, that's in the news"

and

"Hippie Lou, crud in my shoes- It's alright (alright) A-a-al riight"

Another favorite that I've heard lately is The Beach Boys' "Little Deuce Coupe"

which until quite recently I thought was informing me

"It's my little Goose Poop, you don't know what I've got"

I sure don't, Brian Wilson, and I certainly don't want you to tell me what else you've got.

**Expect lots more lyrics posts in the future********

Congratulations on working the dubya dubya

This morning, a man who was a sprightly 103 or so came in to the hotel lobby while I was working the front desk and asked about Priority points and free stays and stuff like that.


OLDIE: "Can you get it to where I get signed up for your club?"
ME: "Well, sir, if you're an existing member I can look you up etc but I can't register you from our system"
OLDIE: (Rattling Sigh) "Well..... I guess I'm going to have to get on that Dubya Dubya"

He just looked at me with his watery eyes and his tone was more like "Well... I guess I'm going to have to stab myself in the neck"

I think there should be a memo sent out in AARP and during the commercials on Wheel of Fortune/Fox News that tells these folks that "The Dubya Dubya is not going to come to life as an evil robot and do you any physical harm- Computers cannot destroy your house or eat your brain"

That would be the best Public Service Announcement ever. I would be happy to star.

Oh, and also there should be a little something at the end about "Be assured none of this will happen.... unless you drive more than 5 miles under the speed limit. This makes the Internet Robots very angry....

And then the little star goes across the screen "The more you Knooowwww"

Why I mute commercials

Technology is for people like me , who don't understand it and think it's AMAZING.
I love to read about the newest satellite phones and rockets and robot surgery. I think the fact that I don't have time to find out how any of it works helps keep it mysterious. I mean I'm one of these people who thinks that the Solitaire cards bouncing when you win is high-tech. "It's like they're FROZEN in TIME" I say every time, and I watch the whole thing.
I do worry that this makes me too much of a sucker for advertising, though. I do know how to use all of that stuff, but maybe being astounded by it makes me vulnerable. (What? it holds 4,000 songs? I don't even know that many songs! I must learn them and then possess this)
(What? I can TALK to this computer directions lady and she'll tell me where to drive? I'll pay anything!)
(Sweet Baby Jesus! It's like that stain never even happened)
So, I've decided to mute commercials and think about other things while they're on. Like how Bill Gates makes those cards dance.

FACT:

What's cooler than vampires who can do Kung Fu?

NOTHING. The End.

See you later...(you know the rest)

Gentle Reader:
It's the middle of the night, and I can't stop thinking about something. Normal people would probably be awake worrying about the mortgage or the boll weevils in the gardenias, but not me. I can't stop thinking about these damned things < > from math class. I can't remember which one is which, and I never could. I'm not exactly a "numbers" person - more on that another time- and these things don't make a whole lot of sense to me.
I remember that one means more than something, and one means there's less than something, but which is which???? I remember some teacher telling us that this thing was an alligator, and it's going to eat up the one that is either less or more. So when I see 51>45, I see an alligator made out of a 4 and a 5 about to eat a 51. But why? is the 45 alligator going to make a snack out of this 51 because it's smaller? Because it's bigger, and the 45 is jealous? I mean it also kind of looks like the 45gator has a toothache and the 51 the dentist. I think the nice thing to do would be for the math people to just TELL US; e.g. "45 is less than 51" or "X is more than 32"

Maybe these little pictures do work for some people. People who understand and compute accordingly,
instead of making up a story in their head about how one number is eating the other one because it is mad about not getting invited to the other number's birthday party, or a sideways chorus line of alligators wielding maracas and singing about how much they love naps.
Those people are obviously crazy.

You don't say

Please cancel my subscription to the No Shit Gazette.

ps.

I think that one of the toughest things about being a baby is how everybody is up in your grill all the time.

I mean people are like "YOU don't need personal space, you're a BABY."

But you know what? The baby isn't happy about this. The baby is just like, "Yes, come closer, so I can remember your face when I'm looking for revenge later"

Let me tell you the story of how I got this Sierra Mist

Picture it: Taco Bell, Tuesday, 10 pm.

So I've got exactly 4 dollars. Not $4.01 or $4 plus tax, just plain old $4.

I pulled up to the drive thru, and I was looking around for thing I liked and could afford, right?

The speaker guy was all, "Let me know when you're ready"

"OK' I said, "I'll have a bean and cheese burrito and a double decker taco s'preme"

"Anything Else for you?"

" How much am I up to?"

"$3.50"

"Nah, that's it. Thanks. Oh, and just a water please"

"Please drive around"

So the pimply adolescent who looked a WHOLE lot like Sci-Fi Greg from Teen Girl Squad

http://www.homestarrunner.com/tgs9.html

who could not have been more than 6, or 14, or something, GIVES ME THE MANHATTAN ONCE OVER, nods his backwards TB-visored head in approval, and in a marvelous display of Whitey Ebonics informs me

"Hey Girl, I'll get you a real drink. Whatchu want?"

"Uh, a, Sierra Mist..?"

"Yeah, that's cool. It's all good. Do you want any (lascivious gaze) sauce??"

"Heuhhh" I faltered.

"Mild...?"

By now I was on the verge of peeing/crying from holding in the raging tide of hilarity inside me;

so I had to speed away... I wish I could have kept the funniest free soda forever....

Mad Signce

I love funny signs.

If you know where I live, (and who else lives here) then you know that the sign in this photo that I actually took yesterday could not possibly be more appropriate, unless it was a photo of the corner of Old White St. and Slow&Grouchy Blvd.

Old people like big signs. This is why there are lots and lots of them posted around town. Most make sense, some don't even seem to be trying. They're just saying, "Look, we have a sign! It says things. Don't ask questions."

There is a diner here which advertises consistently mysterious specials, such as

"Open-face Spaghetti", "BB Cakes" "Fish Chops"

and the marvelous typo "Roast Bee"

My other favorite of the week is a flower shop whose sign advertises specials on Chrysanthemums, Lilies, and Gerbs.

My first thought might be, "Hmm.. Gerber Daisies?" but then I thought, "Well, they had enough room for Chrysanthemums..." There's no way to be sure, but don't be surprised if your dear Aunt Gertie receives a bouquet of gerbils for her birthday.

Church signs can also be fabulous-

my favorite was one I saw that informed passersby that

Troubles are like babies-

the more you nurture them, the more they grow"

If there's one thing we've all learned from troubles, it's that they're exactly like babies.

If you want to see some signs that are much funnier than this one, go here:

http://www.engrish.com/

My cousin is not in charge of government documents

And thank goodness. I love my 16- year old cousin. I do;

Here's my problem.

I'm old.

I'm 28 and I have never felt so much like the next candidate for Shady Pines as when I'm talking, emailing, or texting with my dear young relative.

Here's why- she and her peers have got me really concerned about the English Language.

Her profile contains such statements as

"*i got 2 hata blockas n ya cant stop me cuz if i take 1 off i still got 1 undaneath!!!-"

and

*skool is a biznachh. weekends r awesome. breaks= love. summer= camp= liiffee :D"

I don't even know what that first one means! Is it some sort of threat? An announcement about her preferred intimate apparel? Either way, I'm worried.

It makes me think about where our language is going. I mean how are these kids going to make serious communication with the world?

I mean if Thomas Jefferson was in the "Klizass of '11" I imagine the Declaration of Independence would be all,

"Whenevz NE form of gvmnt bcumz da-struktev 2 theez endz, its all tda rite of da peeps 2 alter or ablsh it biaaa!"

Egad, Gentle Reader, Egad.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to take my Fiber pill and fall asleep watching Matlock.

The Code

Yes, Gentle Reader, I hab a code.

This means I have a cold in cold code. (Code code?)

That sounds kind of glamourous, actually, like I am in possession of some kind of secret spy/intelligence information that will crack The Secret, instead of just snorting a lot.

I have been saying "Morning" to people at the hotel, but it's been coming out "Boarding".

I can see how this would be especially tricky if one were a flight attendant, and if you said to someone, "Boarding" people would be like ,

"What, Now?" and you'd have to explain,

"Do, Do, I'b sorry. I just meant to say "Good Boarding".

So here come the fancy people with their golf-related carry ons and the tiny animals on their pants (SEE PHOTO) going "Good Boarding? That's us, right? First Clahss?"

And then you'd have to tell them to just hode on to their Blackberries and sit dowd like eberybody else.

Unless they're African-American. I don't think I would tell them to hold on to their Blackberries, as this may be misconstrued in a way that would not be funny until MUCH later.

Shhh

If you are reading this brand-new blog wherein I'm going to express my feelings in my usual way, which is to pretend I don't have any and make fun of everything;
that means that you are in quite an exclusive group.

This is sort of like the diary I never filled in. Oh sure, people got me diaries for every fucking birthday, because they figured smart kids want diaries.

My mom got me this one that had Eleanor Roosevelt on the cover, and the title said "A Young Woman's Journal" in really fancy letters. Needless to say, being 9 at the time, I found this terrifying. "Young Woman"? I mean is this thing going to make me start my period? And what's with this big teeth lady? What exactly is my mom trying to tell me here?

Well, I would write one or two entries about what "boy" I had a crush on that week, and leave it lying around in a conspicuous manner for friends to find, never or rarely to be written in again.

So, Gentle Reader, please don't go flitting about the countryside telling everyone about this blog- I know temptation may be strong...

Unless of course, you happen to be in the publishing business, in which case I invite you to send a link to everyone you've ever met.