wha happen!?!?!

Hello, Children.  I recently injured my back and have been bedridden like some sort of large hippo who lives in a house and has a bed and also he hurt his back.  I’m sure you all know I’m generally the picture of perfect health, so this is a crushing blow to my nearly invincible person.

I feel like Jimmy Stewart in Rear Window.  Or I wish I felt like him.  Because at least then I’d have a cool pair of binoculars, a chair with wheels, and some glamorous movie star looking after me.  As a side note, how undignified is it that those certain wheelchairs are called scooters?  I mean, I know they scoot you around but I feel it isn’t a very sophisticated name.  Like imagine if FDR had been in a scooter instead of a wheelchair.  Just look at his chair.
That is one classy chair with wheels.  It’s amazing.  Now picture FDR straddling one of those supermarket scooters with the basket in the front of it.  Now picture Eleanor Roosevelt sitting in the basket.  Now imagine Eleanor making out with a big pile of ladies.  And FDR watching.  I think I have painted you quite the historically accurate picture here.

I digress.

Back to me and Jimmy Stewart.  I’d probably be more like Bart Simpson doing the Jimmy Stewart thing.
I would definitely write a play. I haven’t yet.  Since this is the first time I’ve been able to sit up and type,  of course the best thing to do would be to write a blog entry instead of doing constructive writing.  But if Bart could write a play while physically compromised, I don’t see why I can’t.

In fact, I will write a play.  I’ll be back shortly to do a dramatic reading for you all. 

big girl pants, or - I walked on your face

I am now the proud owner of an iPhone.  This is an important step in my human development.  This makes me steps closer to true adulthood.  When your phone is more than just a phone, your existence becomes more than just an existence.  For some reason, it has been decided that it is important to have a friendly little computer by your side at all times.  And now I do!  It is as though I have gone from sub-human to human in one easy purchase.

It’s like going from As the World Turns Julianne Moore to sexy movie star Julianne Moore.
To reiterate.  I went from this.  And holding on to this guy.
To this.  And these guys.
An obvious upgrade - two jungle cats and a giant purse.  That spells full true human existence every day of the week.  Not that Julianne wasn’t totally neat before she was a star.  She’s a pretty cool lady.  But I think we can all see the difference.  And so as going from TV to movies was her Professor Henry Higgins, I imagine a phone that can find me a clean toilet to use will be mine.
I like to think of my new phone as something of a Rosie the Robot.  A friendly, useful robot.  Who for some reason wears clothes.  Perhaps I should make a tiny tuxedo for my phone.
I mean, sure he can’t make me food.  Or fall in love.  But I think he would if he knew what food and love were.  Anyway.  In past when I heard about the future, everybody had robots and crazy gizmos.  And now I am part of that future.  

Or something.  

One thing I am never impressed by in the future?  The food.  It always seems to be in pellet form.  I am not a hamster so I would not enjoy eating pellets.  Sure, I would enjoy somebody bringing me food and cleaning up my waste for me and having an amazing wheel that never stops turning on which to run my little hamster feet.  But I would not want hamster food.  I would like miniaturized food that would actually be full-size food to me, on account of my miniature stature.

I don’t like future food that comes in tiny form.  And then you have to enlarge it with water or crazy machines.
That just seems unhealthy somehow.  But also seems like food an astronaut would eat.  And who doesn’t love astronauts?  So maybe I should rethink this.

In my future the magic of food would be how you can reach into your TV and pull it out and stuff it in your fat face.  Like Wonkavision.  That’s really a miracle.  Until I can pull a chocolate bar out of my television, I remain unimpressed with the future of food.

I mean.  Who cares if a tiny pizza can turn huge?  That only really matters if you have such a small kitchen that keeping your food tiny while you store it is some sort of convenience.  Yet you somehow can afford some insane device that enlarges it.  So why can’t you afford a kitchen with a bigger pantry??  You sound dumb.

Just kidding.  I like you all.  Like I like David Beckham.
That’s all.

when things happen, they HAPPEN

Sometimes when you’re sick, things happen.  Pills are taken or things are mixed together in a mug and then ingested or foods of unpleasant combinations are eaten.  And we feel momentarily better and then so much worse.  Because these are things we learned from the internet.  We rub oils on our noses after the deciding putting lotion on a paper towel is the same thing as using a Puffs lotion-enhanced tissue.  It is not.  Our nose burns.  But the oil.  It burns, too.  We suffer as the oil burns and does not soothe.  It does not at all.

We turn down suggestions from professionals because are we not the professional body owners?? Of our own bodies?  I believe we are.  And we think we know best.  And when you feel like a sick pile of worm dumps, you think it would be great to try and fancy yourself up to feel better.  To look better is to feel better, sometimes.

We know nothing would be finer than to be an elegant spectacle.  Like Marla Hooch.

And so we make a spectacle of ourselves.  Because it seems like a good idea at the time.
So.  Here.  
From me to you.  
Even when you feel like poo on a shoe of a bear from Peru.
How to give yourself a Sexy Makeover.  

jobs 'n' crafts!

Today I had a job interview, where in which we were asked to craft something within 10 minutes and I made this.

Is it the most beautiful thing in the world?  No!  Is it the most complicated?  NO!  But was it the best one at the GROUP interview?  Yes.  Yes, it was.  This leads me to my topic of discussion today - interviews.  I firmly believe group interviews are the worst invention known to man.  Unless I am a cow at a country dance or a clam in a jar, I don’t want to do anything in a group.  Any interviews, I mean.  

The questions are already so silly and then you have to sit there and smile while 4 other dopes answer some stupid question that a monkey could answer with its mouth taped shut and it’s tail tied to its stomach.  And if it’s an especially basic question you have to hear the same thing 4 times and then when it’s your turn you have to try and make something up to make yourself stand out so you don’t look like just another smelly dog in a basket.
And it’s inappropriate to laugh at what someone else decides is a good answer and especially inappropriate if they decide to improv an entire situation and play multiple roles to make their point.  And you have to politely snortle when they make some hosebeast type joke about how they’re just too chipper.  You can’t just roll your eyes or fart in their general direction.  
And in my case you have to then think about what you’re wearing in comparison to some old lady who decided to wear a blazer and a business skirt with big old heels.  This isn’t the 1800s.  We don’t have to wear our hair in a floating cloud orb about our skulls.  But perhaps do I look too casual in my usual work interview attire?  

I usually choose to wear a tasteful paperbag dress or to wear overalls and hold an enormous cookie.

This interview was fun on account of getting to use a glue stick and glitter and stamps and paper.  I decide here and now that all jobs should require you to make something.  I think it would be especially fun if you forced applicants into a room full of instruments and asked them to make a song.  Or maybe stick them in a room with cardboard boxes and ask them to make a city.  Or a robot.  OR A ROCKET.  Or stick them in a kitchen and make cookies.  Make anything really.  You should probably do that when trying out prospective friends.

Or at least get them to eat a bucket of paste.

make stuff

Sometimes I like to make stuff.  And sometimes it is my mom’s birthday.  And sometimes I make crafty paper things for my mom’s birthday.  And sometimes you have to look at them.

I like the red card with the panda best.  So there.

I love parties.

just because you can

Jamie Oliver is the best.  You know, the man who cooks things and had that TV show where he tried to show kids in American schools how fat and nasty they were because they’re eating garbage?  And the kids didn’t even know the names of vegetables!  And they wanted to eat some disgusting nugget he made out of gross chicken parts like skin and bones that he only made to show them how gross it was!  Kids are the worst.  Some of them that are most, at least, probably.  Just kidding.  They don’t know any better I guess.  But they should learn or something.  From Jamie.  We all should.
Anytoots.  Do you know his kids’ names??  You will in a minute - hopefully less than a minute depending on your reading skills, which I hope are not atrocious because that’d be embarrassing for you probably-  The names are:
Poppy Honey
Daisy Boo
and a new one named Buddy Bear Maurice.
These are the best names for kids.  They’re like names for cats or dogs.  In fact, I might have to adopt four kittens and puppies just to name them Poppy Honey, Daisy Boo, Petal and Buddy Bear Maurice.  Or I could bake desserts and name them those things.  Or discover a small colony of sprite-like people living in a pea pod, free them of their native names and re-name them those names.

I’m not much for babies, but if you could name them like animals I think it’d be a different story.  I think people would like their kids a lot more if they were more like puppies and kittens.  I mean, I know people already love their kids and that’s mostly because they have to.  But they’d totally actually like them if they were like little fuzzy animals who do the darndest people-like things!  People aren’t cute when they do people-like things because they’re already people!!  Sure, dogs are cute when they do dog-like things, but dog-like things are so much cuter than people-like things.  And then when they do a people thing??  It is just too much.

Like, I can sit in a chair.  Watch!  I’ll try it three times!
And now look at this dog sitting like a people in a chair -
There’s no contest!  This little gentleman is just so much more adorable!  And I had three chances!  And I’m already adorable!  Imagine the heights of this pup’s adorability if he beat me in just one sit!

Anyway, Jamie is supercool and had some crazy garden and grows these crazy purple Hyacinth beans.  They are purple!!  They have purple shells!!  
Why has nobody told me about this??  I love foods in unexpected colors!  Yellow tomatoes.  And.  Uh.  Whatever.  I’m sure there are other ones.  I’m imagining a blue donut, but I was thinking more like things that grow.  And I’ve never seen a donut tree.  At least not a blue one.  WAIT - there are crazy colored carrots.  I like those guys.
I’ve gotten off track here.

The point probably is - I want to go adopt some baby animals.  And another point probably is  I want a snack.  And a last point, since points come in threes except on stars and in The Point and a lot of other things, is you should name your babies after animals - i.e. Wizard, Cowboy, Bandit, Moose, Biscuit, Flower and Flour.  Yes.  Flour.  With a ‘u’ - just for the whynot of it.  Just because you can.

in which vogue is dumb

So maybe you read the title of this post and think I’m dumb for reading Vogue.  But GWYNETH was on the cover.  And I like her and how’s she’s super fancy and does fancy people things and wears fancy people clothes and travels and cooks and exercises and I really enjoy several of her films and have you even seen Spain…On the Road Again with Gwyneth “Gogo” Paltrow??  Because she totally speaks Spanish pretty okay and eats stuff and everything.  And it’s just a plain, good, grand-old-farts-out entertaining show about food and travelling.

And big old fatty Mario Batali is there! GP and MB are BFFS!
He’s like the fat clock from Beauty and the Beast!  What’s not to love!?


Instead of just looking at the pictures, I made the mistake of reading some of what they are pretending is writing in the magazine.  I feel like it’s a joke that that nobody told me.  Or they told me finally and it wasn’t funny at all.  And things that aren’t funny aren’t jokes.  They’re just things people say.  And most of what people say is probably self-interested or boring.  Or it’s like if a bunch of middle schoolers got together to write something, but they don’t know anything and have no lives or experiences of which to speak, so instead they just write (poorly) about themselves and how great they are.

Too be fair, I interned at two magazines and I learned you can’t actually write anything about what you’re thinking, since you’re supposed to compliment everything and/or sort of write about things as though you need to get them to buy them.  But you know what?  I’m not Peggy Olson.  I’m not selling popsicles or lipstick.
And I get that the dumb old advertisers make you say nice things about them, but it’s total hamswallop that I would have to write about some nasty beauty cookie or ugly shirt just because some editor’s friend made it and wants to sell it.  And what’s more, in Vogue - the most complimentary articles are when people aren’t even writing about things or other people - it’s themselves!!  They think they’re the best.  And they’re not.

They’re not Peggy Olson out on the town being all snazzy and sitting on an old man’s laps.
The point is.  These people who write for this magazine are adult people who are supposedly writers.  However, whenever a writer writes their article, they generally mention how they’re not a writer OR how writing is their new “career” since they can no longer model or act because they’re old.  And then the articles are just about their own problems, which is fine, I guess - if I wanted to read someone’s dumb old journal.  Then they only mention other people so as to let the reader know all the rich & famous people they know.  Not even to relate a mildly amusing anecdote about any of them!  

And without fail they always mention how they had a party or a dinner so they can bring up how they decided to spice things up and invite a “normal” person - or normy - like an academic type or an art historian or some other garbage.  And they have nothing nice or interesting to say about that person - they’ll mention how they’re quiet - and they only bring them up to point out how at some point during the evening the normy would just stop eating/talking/whatevering to just look around and admire how everyone was else was so zany/bohemian/politically/hilarious/fascinating saying such zany/bohemian/politically/hilarious/fascinating things.

It’s just rude and dull.  They think they’re Gwyneth Paltrow in Emma and the normy is their infinite admirer, Mrs. Bates.

If the writers were really so wonderful, maybe they could write about wonderful things they did that are interesting, instead of writing about how wonderful and interesting they think they are.  And how everyone else thinks they are, too.

I’m sorry.  Sometimes I just get mad.  I just get so mad I could throw a bird out a window.

It Really Steams My Clams

PORTRAITS of FRIENDSHIP.  Mike Nichols is married to Diane Sawyer?  What?  Weird.  And is related to Albert Einstein? Alby Einy?  Really?  Weird?  Really weird.  What are your favorite portraits of friendship?  Just kidding - I don’t really want to know.  Or do I??

I don’t know why I have to discuss this now, but I do:  I’ve come to realize I have an enormous peeve.  It seems silly but it peeves me to no end.  And that, my friends and enemies, is when people toast with things that aren’t glasses and especially with things that are food.  I was watching a TV show – it was on a television – and the characters toasted with chicken fingers.  And it really steamed my clams.  And another show I saw on TV, you know what they cheersed with??  They cheersed with aluminum soda cans.  How distasteful can you get?  They didn’t even use that doo-tasting champagne in a can I bought one time because it came in an adorable tiny can with an adorable tiny straw. 

Just because something is adorable, doesn’t mean it’s delicious.  Lesson learned, my friends, lesson learned.  That probably means these would taste like the business end of a toad’s bottom.

Yes, it is a kooky black penguin.  I think he and I would be great friends.  Possibly best ones.  So.  Feast your eyes on that.  FEAST! You know what was a great feast?  I DO.  That one in Hook that I guess didn’t really happen.  When all the starving children and the middle aged man imagined all that food and maybe had a food fight.  I don’t remember.  But what I do remember is that they didn’t really get to eat anything.  And they probably all went to bed hungry.  You cannot survive eating empty promises.
And how this tubby little charmer managed to turn into a human bowling ball at the end of the film is another mystery for the ages.  People just can’t roll like balls.  We are not wheels.  Or spheres made of any sort of substance.  

Anyway.  What can you possibly be happy enough to cheers about in your life if your life is not one in which you have champagne and clinkety clink glass flute glasses at your disposal?  If all you’ve got is cans and chicken scraps, maybe put your toasting and cheersing on hold, sisterfriends.  You’ve got bigger fish to fry.  I’m not saying you have to have an enormous champagne filled glass in which to bathe – I’m not crazy.  Sitting in a tub of champagne or champagne-like liquid would probably be really unsanitary.  Plus, you’d have to drink all the champagne to drain the tub!
NOTE - Never waste champagne!!
HOT TIP - Especially if you’ve been stewing in it.
I’m just saying you should adopt a lifestyle in which you are, at all times, privy and holding glasses of champagne.  I mean, if you don’t have enough champagne to try and feed some to a baby deer, what kind of life are you living?  Audrey knows what I’m talking about.
When you toast with things that aren’t darling little flutes of champagne – pronunciation: champaggin – you don’t get a darling little clinkety clink sounds that lets people know you are more than serious about celebrating what you’re celebrating.

And wthout noises how would we know how serious things are??  People say “serious like a heart attack” or maybe it’s “as” and not “like” but in any event that’s just silly!  Heart attacks aren’t noisy!  Some people can be alone and just die from them and then that’s mostly pitiful but is that really serious? You know what is serious?  I DO – sirens and whistles and coyote howls and dogs that howl when they hear sirens and whistles and coyote howls.  Those noises say, “HEY.  STOP.  PAY ME YOUR ATTENTION.  And you cannot cure me – or maybe it’s just slow or I don’t know even really know what it does but it is something – with Bayer aspirin!”  If Bayer aspirin is part of your solution, how bad can your problem really be?

That’s all.  Except for ask me a stupid question here if you want.

how to fend off a filthy beast

I don’t know why my text in this entry is all crazy and pushing letters from certain words onto other lines. Anyway, I think we can get through this together.

Firstly and foremostly, I was watching the Soap Opera Channel - yes, indeed, the Soap Opera Channel - and a commercial came on with a clip from the year I was born (as I later discovered) that has taught me a lot about bears and bear-handling. What do you do when you meet a bear in the woods? And I hear you think, “I might think to offer a hand to shake, as one might a person. For, what is a bear but a giant human covered in a thick coat of hair who eats raw fish from a river. You wouldn’t run from if you happened upon Andre the Giant if he had been covered in a thick coat of hair and holding a raw fish between his teeth, would you?” No, I wouldn’t. But we must remember that bears are not beloved 
human wrestlers turned actors afflicted with gigantism.  
We must. If we do not remember that there is no hope for any of us. 

Here is what you do to get a bear to mind its business:

Watch me try it now:
I hope we’ve all learned an important lesson today. I sure did.
I’m sorry if you misinterpreted my post title and were hoping you were going to find out how to fend off Jennifer Aniston. I’m not quite sure how a person would do that. It seems she’ll show up in any old horrible movie and date any old man with a case of FEI. FEI, I’m sure you all recall, is a Facial External Implosion. A prime example follows. Before his FEI, Vince Vaughn was this man.
Now a fat man has taken residence inside him and exploded.  Make sure to note his problem is not entirely in his largeness but in the putty-like feel his face has taken on.  His face is saggy and puffity making him look like we could mush his face around like dough.
And I don’t want to mush his face around like dough.  I don’t want to, yet I can’t help imagining what it would be like.  Call me sick, if you will.  Or, please, call me Ishmael.  QUEEQUEG!


PS Moby Dick was almost the most boring book ever.  I haven’t read all the books there are or lived forever yet, so I’ll have to stick with almost.

has to be prrrty

When some people cook and then put up photos, it all has to look perfect and pretty.  But.  Guess what!  Life isn’t about being perfect and pretty on the internet.  It’s about being pretty and perfect in living colors!  And people want to seem all supercool and nifty - well, guess what!!  Most people are not!  But I am!  And isn’t better to be things than to seem like them?  YES!  Yes, it is.

And, sometimes, I make cookies!  WATCH ME NOW!

If you’re going to cook, let it be in a jumpsuit.  Jumpsuits are the future.  They are one piece of clothes you put on and BAM - you’re done.  In the future all we will have is dresses and jumpsuits.  I own several clothes items that are one piece and BAM - you’re done.  And sure, some might have compared me to a French clown - but who doesn’t love French clowns?  And perhaps another item results in one looking like a baby, but doesn’t everyone want to look younger???  I don’t, particularly. 

 I’d rather look as what I am - but you just wait, I’m sure a diaper-pants fashion trend is stewing in a big pot underground from where all things fashion fester and grow.  And not like those big dumpy-crotched genie pants things.  Though those things are awful.  Why would you want it to look like your crotch had dropped a foot and a half?  What’re you hiding in there?  Is it a droopity fleshy bathing suit area?  An underdeveloped third leg?  Are you planning on birthing a baby and don’t want to take off your pants and also you want to have a hammock in your pants ready to cradle it when it falls out?  

Unless what you are hiding is candy or Monopoly money, I am not interested. 
Her pants seem to be sucking up into themselves.  Maybe her left crotch is the dominant one.  And it’s hungry for pants.

The  orthopedic wedges are really adding that special pizazz here.

I don’t even know.  You guys.  I don’t even.
These are the only acceptable pants in the bunch.  LOVE IT.  Love the shoes. Stunning.  Gorgeous.  Perfection.  Gold & Blue.  A match made in heaven!

Anyway.  I mean, like diaper covers baby wear over their diapers as pants for adults.  Like bloomers, sort of.  You just wait, Henry Higgins.  Just you wait.
Speaking of Henry, he loved words.  And I just remembered at a magazine where I interned they used words like “resto” and “natch.”  Those are some of my least favorite words that aren’t words.  They’re dumb as stumps.  Nobody really says those things.  And if you are a person who uses those things as words, you probably don’t really count for much anyway.  And if you do count for something right now, you don’t in the grand scheme of life.  You’re living a bug’s life.   

A BUG’S LIFE.  Disney’s A Bug’s Life.  Disney Pixar’s A Bug’s Life.
Stew on that.  

birds and bees

This is sort of gross. Yet educational. And it looks just as darn tooting entertaining as all get out. It’s National Geographic.

Speaking of INSECTS. I made this.
Out of threads and linens!!!! And a fat needle! And my hands that are like gnarled trees! Speaking of bees, there was an angry beehive right outside my window for a long time. I would find dead bees in my bathroom. It would be bad enough to find one bee, but once I discovered 9 or so corpses in my bee graveyard, and that is more than enough. It was more than I could bare. A man was called to eradicate the bees and until today I thought the deed had been done and the bees had been done in and all was done and gone. But, no! I was out in the backyard, playing with my blonde hog of a tiny furry dog and what do I hear but a buzzing coming from the trees! Now, in my experience, trees aren’t meant to buzz - at least not loudly enough for people to hear! So I creep closer than my comfort lets me and I see bees! In the flowers of the trees! Thank god not in my gnarled tree hands, but still - in the flowers on my tree! I didn’t say they should move from in between the walls of bedroom and the outdoors to a tree. I didn’t say it at all! So I hightailed it back indoors, scared for my doghog and myself.

I love arts and farts and crafts, but not necessarily in that order. As you can see I craft things like that bee above. That above bee. So I will share a craft with you!! OR. If anyone cares to weigh in on what you want to see - LOOK BELOW THIS NOW
and if you don’t give a flying fig I’ll just do what I want!! Otherwise, feel free to leave a comment or call my personal car phone. In one I’m wearing a lot of lipstick, some might say too much. In the other I’m wearing a lot of lipstick and I’m acting like a cat. So make the most important decision of my life for me. Or I’ll have to flush it down the toilet at prom.

sheer terrors

Tiny bugs terrify me.  Large bugs terrify me.  Butterflies terrify me.  Oh, dear stars in heaven.  I just tried to brave my terror to find a picture of a pretty butterfly.  It was too much for my weak heart.  Here is a kind of butterfly I like and love - a bread-and-butterfly
These were always adorable.  What was not adorable was the large and horrifying insect that drove me from my bedroom the other night.  It was tiny yet enormous.  And people shouldn’t tell me not to be scared of such small things.  People are afraid of smaller things all the time!  Like their imaginations!  Or an army of super-tiny babies who can all crawl.  Just imagine hundreds of them.  That creeps me out just thinking about it.  Or ghosts - they don’t even have a size since they’re immaterial and you can’t measure immateriality!  Anyway.  The point is - I always really liked the bread-and-butterflies.

You know who’s a cool lady???  I DO.  Mary Blair.  She did a lot of concept art for Disney things, including the thing from which the bread-and-butterflies sprang.

There’s even a book about her!

You know you’ve made it if someone’s written a book about you.  I don’t think it counts if you write a book about yourself…maybe if you used a pseudonym.  It would have to be a pretty fantastic book if you hadn’t actually done anything book-worthy yet.  Although, I guess if what you do is drawing or painting or some junk you would stuff that in there and not need as much writing to fill the book up.  Or if you’re a chef or a cook or you make food that would be mostly pictures and recipes, even if you weren’t the one writing it.  People are pretty lazy.  So, if you really want to make someone work, you should probably make music.  Since unless they stick the sheet music in there they’d have a LOT to do.  Even if you made movies people would take the stills and fill the book with that!  Or you could something political or humanitarian or some dumb garbage - but that’s a lot of work for you.  And that’s not what having someone write a book about you is about.  If you wrote a book about yourself, though, you could do whatever you want.  If you do everything for yourself you could do whatever you want.  Except for those things like flying and that sort of thing.

Anyway.  Look what Amazon recommended for me:
I can imagine why.  What I cannot imagine is why this woman is exercising while topless.  That cannot possibly be comfortable.  Did she just put on the tiny pants and then just decided that it felt right to stop there?  Less is more?  And her hair is down.  I find it horrible to exercise with my hair down.  And even more horrible to be topless at the same time.  At that point why not just go naked?  That seems like a more logical thing to do.  There was an ad on craigslist for a naked yoga instructor after all.  Well, for men.  I mean a man for men.  I mean it was for a gay naked yoga studio.  Naked exercise just seems like a dangerous idea.

I do exercise tapes by this crazy lady -
Who poses on wacky carpets!  With children!
And wears denim vests and sheer tights and practically no pants while holding ballet barres!
But it’s only because Gwyneth Paltrow told me to!  Look how gigantic she is!  Who wouldn’t she terrify?  Behemoth.  
Well.  Orpah kind of told me to do it more.  When Gwyhemoth was on Orpah.
That’s not right!!  I don’t care how much Orpah laughed it’s not right!  Gwyhemoth shouldn’t say poo.  Or boobs.  Rude, Gwyhemoth, rude.
That’s the one!!

NOTE - If you want to get on Oprah, be a rapping Gwyneth Paltrow or an exercising one.
HOT TIP - Get off your fat butt and exercise or make a rap!  I do both at the same time!  Minus the fat part.  Also, win an Oscar and marry a famous musician and have babies and name that after foods and bibles.  I’m naming my kids Wienerschnitzel and King James Version.  

orpah's among us!

Just kidding - this post has NOTHING to do with Oprah.  I mean, Orpah.  Wait - hold the phone - I lied.  This posting was to be about one of my favorite things but I’m distracted by ANOTHER of my favorite things.  And ANOTHER of my favorite things does have to do with Orpah.

Do you all see what the mighty Orpah holds in her left hand?  You do?  I do, too!  In case you can only read words and letters but you cannot process pictures and their content with your eyes, I’ll tell you what she’s got.  She’s got a 
I adore corn dogs.  I love them.  I lurve them.  I luff them.  But I must say, seeing this corn dog and thinking about it makes me feel badly.  I’ve lied.  I’ve lied to the public.  My public.  I realized something, you guys.  I used to say I was fat or at least plump or chubby during some of my teens and would blame this wholly on watching Sister, Sister every afternoon while eating McDonald’s.  Every afternoon.   And no, it wasn’t even fancy Chanel brand McDonald’s.  It was regular, plebeian McDonald’s.
But, I lied.  I’ve been lying. I lie.  Tia & Tamera, you were never meant to be hurt by words.  And you probably weren’t.  I hope not, at least.  You taught me so much.  Like that zany, alternative ‘Happy Birthday’ song I used to try and force people to sing.  But nobody knew it.  But you guys did.  And everyone who was at that birthday party episode did.  Anyway, I digress.  It wasn’t just Sister, Sister & McDonald’s - it was also the heavenly corn dog in mass quantities spread over lengths of time.  When I would go to the market or “grocery store” with my mother, she would buy me a corn dog.  And we went to the market or “grocery store” a lot.  And I was happy.  And I don’t regret it.  I’m a better person for snacking.  
I love you, corn dog.  I’ll let you know what my original favorite thing was later.

And coming soon…a VIDEO of things to come.

Fun + Games + Food + Me

With summer just on the horizon (and horizons, remember, are things that are far away in actuality and you can’t ever really get there, but summer’s not a place it’s a time, isn’t it? And you can’t get to a time, or can you? I don’t know but who really does) here is a summer fun and game to look forward to: Pooh Sticks.

NOTE - You are all thinking I have chosen this game because it has the word ‘poo’ right in the name, and you know poo is one of the best words around.
HOT TIP - You shouldn’t think about what you already know - of course, that is one of the key reasons I chose it! You should always do, play, eat, talk about, etc… things that have one of your favorite words right there in the name. Only don’t do the wrong thing to your favorite thing. Things could go terribly wrong if you marry the wrong words together….playing with and eating poo, for example, are somethings never to do. Talking about and a doing a poo, however, are more than somethings to do, they are musts.
If you read Winnie the Pooh books or watched the cartoon you should know what Pooh Sticks is. If not…I cannot even think of such a thing. It just stings my nostrils to even begin to imagine such a life…You can read all about the World Pooh Sticks Championships here. When playing Pooh Sticks you should eat something festive - like a chocolate honey cake.
You need to use Muscavado sugar, which makes me think of Rosemary’s Baby and how the Castavets were really the Marcados.
Which makes me think of Scrabble!

I could make those.  I will!!  Let’s now take just a minute to consider Rosemary.
Rosemary was a real lady. She almost never wore pants and always wore flat shoes. And you can tell she was a real lady because even though her hair was really short, her husband didn’t confuse her for a young boy! He let the devil impregnate her and everything! Now, some of you might be thinking - What do you know about being a lady?? You talk about poop! And I might reply that a real lady always talks about what she wants to as long as it offends nobody or only a very few number of people or a very great number of people who don’t matter very much.
Another real lady. Bjork says what she means and means what she says.
“I am grateful. Grapefruit.”
NOTE - When making speeches, always state exactly what you mean emphatically and ecstatically.
HOT TIP - If what you are saying is not necessarily of the popular opinion, get real angry about it and make sure you’re wearing a flamboyant outfit. And still be emphatic. Always be emphatic.
Or take everything you’ve said back a second later and give the people you’re talking to your chocolate factory.

I will be exploring several options for developing life skills and think you should all come along with me for the journey!
You don’t need a compass for this journey. Stupids. You’re on a webpage. You’re clearly not going anywhere. Here’s a taste of what is coming for you…