today, i discovered that i absolutely cannot wear underwear without it riding up my ass.

what is it? is my ass extra slippery? are they now making panties out of some space age asshole-detecting fabric?

DUH!

I'M MAD.

i'm not mad.

I'M MAD.

i'm not mad.

i tried to drink a beer without popping the cap. and i kept thinking, "shouldn't beer be coming out right about now?"... but did that stop me from tilting the bottle? noooo, that would be too intelligent!

and, hey! who woulda guessed! i'm not even drunk! this is the first beer!

you'd think, at age 125, the man would have finally realized that doing that doesn't make the elevator hurry up. but noooooo!

one day i'm going to break this man's fingers.

well... this makes my being-chased-by-angry-jellyfish dream seem alot less insane, doesn't it? i'm not so crazy now am i?!

duuuulces besos, caramelo. duuuuulces besos, y tu pelo. duuuuuuulces besos, para soaaar.

child: are there fish in this stream?

me: nope. but in september, the salmon swim upstream to spawn.

child: to what?

me: what do mean, "to what"? to barry white. i don't know!?

and now that i've written that down, i realize he doesn't know what "spawn" means and i'm just an obnoxious mommy.

and yet, i spent the last half hour with my face smashed up against somebody's armpit.

'sup with that?

---

this may be reason enough to consider buying a car. except i'm saving my money so that i can run off to vegas and marry kris in a drunken haze.

bigamy is fun!

HEY. I SAY THAT PLURALIZING HUTCHINS IS WAY COOLER AS "HUTCHINAE". HUTCHINSES JUST SOUNDS STUPID. DON'T YOU AGREE?

CAN I PLEASE TAKE A NAP NOW? ... JUST A SHORT ONE. UNDER THE DESK. I WON'T DISTURB ANYONE.

HEY... WHY AM I ASKING YOU? YOU ARE NOT MY EMPLOYER!

GO AWAY! YOU'RE CONFUSING ME.

and i thought, what does compartmentalize mean? but then i said, "oh yeah! watch me!"

but i still don't know what that means.

also, someone called me flaky... i cannot believe it. ME? flaky? yearight!

me, that's who. because i'm smart!

also, i'd like to thank the bathroom fairies for the generous use of their washcloths.

because if it's just me, i'm going to have to go poke this here pencil right through my hand.

if you don't know who donnie wahlberg is... hello! you're on the internet. go google.

this has got to be the single stupidest decision anyone has ever made in all the history of stupid-decision-making.

but! tres fun for me, so YAY!

also, i have a thing for jim belushi... and by "thing" i mean "deep abiding lust".

a buffette, eh. yeah. i like those buffettes too. especially when they serve fillette mignon.

"let's go tto have a drink?"

OK, anonymous internet man! SURE!

"u r funny."

you impress me with your ingenius conservation of keystrokes... TAKE ME! I'M YOURS!

but moving on.

i would like to set the record straight... playing with my hair (and who can blame you? my hair is straightlicious) is really cute and all, for the first TEN minutes. but then it just gets annoying.

besides! you're tangling my hair, bozo! knock it off!

And on a side note, I was so sure that I would like this grass more. Stupid Martha Stewart grass!

---

Welcome to Piehole Wonderland number 144! Who is locked! Ahh! I can't read! I can't read!

And wilkommen number 145! Who has a drinking problem! Ha ha! Click the link! Click the link!

And I bought THIS!

Pocky and Men's Pocky.

Apparently, boys are so special they get their own Pocky... Which says on the box (and I'm quoting here) "for the type of person who enjoys the finer points in life."

When did "farting" and "scratching yourself" become the finer points in life?

"You love Chinese food."

What a crock! That's not a fortune! That's a statement! These aren't fortune cookies! They are statement cookies!

I've been screwed!

Jean. Gray. Now that's one cool ass superhero name!

If I were a superhero, I think I'd like to be named Shlomo Horowitz. Because if you're a villian, you'd be real scared of Shlomo!

ACTIVATE!

EWW!

I didn't even like being called that when I was married. Except for maybe the first week.

After that, I just started saying "DO NOT DEFINE ME BY MY MARITAL STATUS, YOU PIG!" and then insisting that they call my husband Mrs. Jennifer.

Which is a mighty fine name!

Also in the mail today? A recycling bag from the City of Seattle... I kid you not. A RECYCLING BAG! See? Even the city is after me to start recycling.

What next? Charm school?

I blame this on years of living in a coatless environment.

So, I cannot undress myself. So what?

At least I don't think The Old Spaghetti Factory is a fancy restaurant.

My mother sent me my airfare voucher in the mail along with this little note:

Do you see that? She signed a note to her daughter with her name! I guess I'm supposed to call her by HER NAME now? What is up with this woman? Is she crazy?

Oh, and I won't go into how pretentious it is to name your daughter after YOURSELF... And then expect her to call you YOUR NAME.

Whack job.

I've been planning on being completely debt free by next summer, and by some miracle it's actually happening!

Huh?

Who knew my plan of totally not changing my spending habits would work!?

I must ovulate every time Queer Eye For The Straight Guy is on... Oh, how I cry and I cry.

WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME?

All my shirts are too small all of a sudden! I mean, they're the same width they always were, but now they're all two inches too short?

What the pork is going on?!

I think my torso is growing... I'm going to one of those weird short-legged, long torsoed freaks. It's a good thing I'm cute because, damn! I'm disfigured!

Oh, for crying out loud! Don't come up behind me and then scream "JENNIFER!"

It's so not funny.

Yesterday I got a phone call and all I have to say about it is... "GAH!" and maybe "AUGH!" and possibly "AAAAH! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! AAAAAH! AAH! AAaaaaaahhhhhh!" And then faint.

And when I could get to sleep last night, I'd dream I was covered in aluminum foil and people keep looking at me weird. (What? Never seen a girl wearing Reynold's Wrap before?)

But, I'm not freaking out. Oh no... Not freaking out. Nope. Not me. Completely calm. Sure. C-o-m-p-l-e-t-e-l-y calm... Yep... That's believable... Considering text messages freak me out, but freaky ass news? Noooooo... I'm mellow.

I hope you've all enjoyed this very very vague entry!

I Broke my keyBoard - stupid Can of soda! - Hard to Cut And paste This entry - AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH!

How come there's always a scene in sappy movies where the girl cries while watching an opera?

Uh... Did I miss the boat? Is that what boys are looking for in a girl? A girl who is moved to tears by The Pirates of Penzance?

And on another note, I have never been to the opera.

Maybe because I'm afraid I'll cry and then my brother-in-law-to-be, a young Nicolas Cage, will fall in love with me, and turn my world topsy turvy.

Alright. Who came into my office and stole all the spoons?

What is this crap?! Where are all the freakin' spoons?!?!?!!! How am I supposed to stir things?! This is ridiculous! WE'RE SPOONLESS! I can't work in a spoonless environment! Gah!

Some friends and I are having a debate about boy smell.

They say they like when a man is all sweaty and sweat smelling.
I say they are fucking insane.

Personally, I like a man who smells like, say... soap. Or grapefruits. Or anything that it is not BO.

I'm never sick. So why am I sick? WTF? My head is heavy, and my voice is gravely, and my nose is boogery, and my whole body aches... Especially my boobs.

Yes! You read that right! My cold is making MY BOOBS hurt... Hello? Is that weird to anybody else?

Now excuse me while I to go lie down... Apparently, my body needs more than 14 hours of sleep to keep up with booger production.

Today, in the grocery store, I had to have one of those giant Amazon Seattlelite women get me soup from the top shelf.

Uh... Hello? I'm too short to get stuff down from the top shelf... ME?! I'm too short!? Gah! That is the LAST time I go grocery shopping without heels.

I have never felt so useless in my whole entire life.

It's Thanksgiving, right? ... So WHERE THE HELL ARE THE FREAKING TURKEYS?! Who do I have to blow to get one small dumbass turkey in this neighborhood? This is ridiculous!

I give up. YOU WIN ASSHOLE GROCERY STORES WITH NO STUPID TURKEYS AT STUPID THANKSGIVING! ... We're having a giant turkey-shaped rice krispie treat instead. Assholes.

My new face scrub claims that it contains "Papaya Fruit Extract"... Papaya Fruit Extract? Papaya FRUIT? Why the distinction? Is there a papaya vegetable I don't know about? A papaya bat? A Volkswagon Papaya? A forbidden dance?

Also - Today is my totally not lovely :jackass:'s birthday. He is MANY years old, but looks MANY MANY years old due to that big hole in the ozone above New Zealand and a pasty white complexion.

On my way home to lunch today, I passed a man who smelled exactly like my 5th grade pencil case... Weeeeeeeeird.

Why would a man smell like watermelon erasers? Did he roll around in the eraser bin at Sanrio? I'm so confused!

It's pretty hard to consider quitting your job and running away when your boss GIVES YOU A RAISE and an ALL EXPENSES PAID FIRST-CLASS TRIP TO SAN FRANCISCO and tells you that you're SO FUCKING GREAT.

Oh, cruel fate. Why must you ream me?

Ah. Will I ever tire of being leered at like I'm a piece of meat by middle-aged couples trying to get their three-way on?

Listen. I know the bra size says "I'm easy!", but my eyes are very clearly stating, "Move along, Mr. & Mrs. Pervert. I ain't sleepin' with none of y'all!"

... Don't you like how my eyes have a southern accent?

Last night I had a dream where my hair grew down to my ass and, in a show of gratitude, people from all over came to give me presents of pickles, lipstick, and mail.

I mean, I know my hair is really great lately, and surely I deserve presents - but WTF? MAIL? That's fucked up.

It's clear outside! I can see part of the sky! And it is BLUE not GRAY, like it's supposed to be! Gah! Where's a girl got to move to get a dreary day? THIS IS SEATTLE! Where's my damn rain?

If this keeps up, I'm moving to Finland. Where the days are long and gray, or short and gray, and the people are all suicidal... THAT'S more like it.

Practically every day at work, we here at the offices of Big Bootie Ho are subjected to XM Radio Watercolors... Ah, Watercolors! Whatever would I do without your smooth jazz covers of CYNDI LAUPER'S TIME AFTER TIME and BOB MARLEY'S COULD YOU BE LOVED?

Besides not burst out laughing, I mean.

Like, I found out that there are some people out there that, get this... Have been in love SEVERAL TIMES! And sometimes SEVERAL TIMES IN A ROW! And sometimes SEVERAL TIMES IN A ROW IN QUICK SUCCESSION!

How the fuck?

I mean, I know I'm not the kind that just willy nilly falls in love all the time, but come on... Where the hell are they finding acceptable partners? And it's not like I have unusually high standards... Believe you me, they're not that high. So where the shit is everyone finding all these boyfriends/girlfriends suitable for falling in love with? WHERE?

On second thought, don't tell me where. I don't care. I HATE EVERYBODY! Grrrrrrrrrr!

Why am I so sore everywhere? It's not like I've been exercising. (Ha ha! That's just plain funny.) But I can't walk without going, "Ow! Ow! Ow!"

But I am even more concerned because, dude, I don't use that one muscle in my lower back unless there's a naked man involved. And come on! THERE'S NO NAKED MAN INVOLVED.

Great. No naked. So depressing... Come, let's go email the pretty pretty man and tell him I'm not wearing any underwear.

This morning, I found out that my step-sister's partner, Big Turdface (she's Big Turdface because she and Little :turdface: share a name) was diagnosed with Invasive Lobular Carcinoma late last week.

Now I don't know about you, but I am none too keen about having the words "invasive" and "carcinoma" anywhere associated with one of my (and :turdface:'s) favorite people... It's making me all weepy. And all self-examy.

And I'm sure since I never do self-exams* my newfound vigor for self-exams should be real effective.

* Hey, that's what boyfriends are for.

My reaction to Star Wars 3: Revenge of the Sith can be summed up with the following real life events:

Did I have to watch the first two prequels in order to get why that's funny? Or are these people just dumb? Because until I'm told different, I'm going with dumb.

PS. I got to sit next to a middle aged man wearing Brut cologne... Remember where I said these people were dumb. Well. HELLO! What man over the age of 14 wears Brut? I'll tell you what kind. The dumb kind. That laugh at places in a movie THAT AREN'T FUNNY!

OK. What's up with the perfume that smells like soil?

Used to be that I'd run into just one or two of these people a month, and now EVERYBODY is smelling like dirt perfume. Why?! WHY?!? I don't get this at all!

Surprise! No childcare today, the very first day of the summer vacation. I mean, how silly of me to assume that they'd start providing summer vacation childcare on... oh, I don't know... THE FIRST DAY OF SUMMER VACATION?!?!

:huh:

This is going to put a CRAMP in my STYLE! My style! It will be cramped!! Also, the style of the Seattle Crap Museum's first houseguest in, like, years will also be cramped! All our styles will be cramped! Crampy styles!

I am profoundly disturbed by those "Wanta Fanta" commercials... Someone needs to go punch the entire marketing department at Fanta. Y'ALL CREEPY!

:heebie jeebies:

PS. Other creepy feelings? Putting on a pair of pants fresh from the dryer and LADEN WITH STATIC ELECTRICITY, with no underwear on.... Blerrrrgh.

I saw Amish people at the airport today...

With luggage...

At the airport...

Amish people...

MY MIND BOGGLES!

OH MY FUCKING GOD! THERE IS A SNAIL IN MY APARTMENT!! SNAIL!! With slimy snail trails! And... like... icky antennae! SLIMY ANTENNAE! And it is SLIMY-ING UP MY FLOOR! OH MY GOD! THE HEEBIE JEEBIES ARE INCREDIBLY HEEBIE JEEBIE-ISH!

I AM HAVING AN ANEURISM! Why is there no boy in this apartment to REMOVE THE SNAIL from MY APARTMENT?!?! OH MY GOD! WHAT AM I GOING TO DO?!!!!! Somebody save me! From the snail! In my apartment!!!! HELP!

[Edited to say: OH MY GOD!! THERE'S ANOTHER ONE!!! AAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!]

[Edited again to say: Oh thank shit! It wasn't another one. It was a leaf! PHEW!]

Look at me! It is 6:23 in the morning and I am up and showered and dressed and my face is on and my newly dark-brown dyed hair is shiny and dark-brown! And did I mention it is 6:23?! IN THE MORNING?!

And did I also mention that I am still tired?! And that ... I'm... wait. What? I think I forgot what I was going to say while I was typing it... Must be BECAUSE I AM TIRED!

And now I'm going to go to work... Because, for some insane reason, some people think this is an appropriate time for a meeting. (Later today, like, maybe after a few cups of coffee, let's go beat up those people!)

I am currently watching a commercial where people are making peanut butter sandwiches IN THE LIVING ROOM! What is this insanity? The living room?! What? Why? This behavior is confusing!

Other confusing behaviors:

1. I am currently loving my job with a furvor that I typically only reserve for plain Brown Cow yogurt. If my job was yogurt, I would marry it.
   
2. Number of carrot cupcakes consumed in the last 3 months: ZERO. And yet? Still obsessed with them... Odd.

I would configure Yahoo messenger to only accept messages from people on my buddy list, but if I did that how would I have ever gotten this one?

"Do you want to watch me take a shit on webcam?"

And then, how would I have lost my appetite? ... Forever.

Last night I had a seriously fucked up dream involving the man who I fell ass over head over everything you can possibly fall over many many years ago, and a puppy that grew with frightening speed. I swear, every time I turned around, the puppy was bigger! And eating marbles!

And for some reason I took partially clothed showers with said man... while his parents watched... And then there were a bunch of guys sitting around a campfire handing me bacon.

I need to stop smokin' the crack before bedtime.

For years I have been examining cute handbags and cute shirts and cute pants only to find a J.Lo tag on them... And be revolted. I can't be seen wearing J.Lo merchandise! ARE YOU CRAZY?

And then today... I bought a scarf... And didn't notice this.

Oh my god... Jennifer Lopez and I have the same taste.

In the Walgreen's "Feminine Hygiene" Aisle, but 10 minutes ago, I overheard a woman say to her child that she needed to buy some "lady pants"...

Lady pants! LADY MOTHERFUCKING PANTS! HA! I can't even type that without laughing!! HA HA! Try it! Lady pants! Bahahaha!

I hate hate haaate it when the person I'm having a conversation with has an upper lip that doesn't move when they talk.

I can't stop staring at it! Why doesn't it move? They are talking! Common sense dictates that if your mouth is moving, your upper lip should be too. Right? The mechanics just don't make any sense... It's like they're not even human.

Must be a robot. Or Lisa Rinna.

Has anyone else seen Dog Poop Barbie? Or was the commercial I just saw on TV all my imagination?

The dog didn't really just eat the poop and then poop the poop, did it? And if it did... BWAHAHAHA!

Editorial from :turdface::
"Watch this commercial, mom! It's really gross!"

also

"CAN YOU JUST BUY THE DOG?!?"

Because what 10-year-old boy doesn't want a toy dog that poops. And has poop-eating action?

Edited to add: Watch it here. (Thanks, Brandi!)

Teeny tiny, pinpoint bruises? Where did you come from?

Is Jenjamin doing something weird when I fall asleep? Did I sleep on some nails last night? Am I sleep-shooting-up-crack?

The office is playing French songs for some reason... And as I do not speaky the French, I have to ask this - What on earth could the word "cooter" mean in French? BECAUSE I TOTALLY JUST HEARD IT!

I spent the afternoon making ratatouille today... So now, of course, my apartment smells like pumpkin... :huh:

I saw my first tumbleweed! Did you know? THEY'RE REAL! They're not just from cartoons!

I know. I'm pretty shocked. Also, I'm pretty shocked that I somehow ended up in a sea of middle-aged white guys, with a penchant for pumping their fists in the air, in the fifth row of a RUSH concert in George, Washington. (HA!)

Sandwich board seen this afternoon on the way home from work:

Well... If that doesn't have "barf" written all over it, I don't know what does.

Other things that have barf written all over them

1. Vegan barf soft serve
   
2. Barf hemp soft serve
   
3. Barf