Sunday, December 28, 2008

It's a Christmas Miracle!

I just filled up my tank for...

wait for it...

less than $20!!

Yeah, I know...not your normal post. Or even that interesting for that matter. But it made me happy.

Thursday, December 25, 2008

Holiday Shopping

While out shopping this holiday season, I came upon two items that I feel must be mentioned. Now, I realize that they're everyday, normal items. However, my juvenile sense of humor could not be ignored.

it took everything I had to not buy this for my ex-husband. Maybe for Father's Day...

May Your Christmas Be Merry and Bright

Tuesday, December 23, 2008

Stayin' Alive...literally!

Disco tune "Stayin' Alive" could save your life

U.S. doctors have found the Bee Gees 1977 disco anthem "Stayin' Alive" (Lawd Jesus, I love this song!) provides an ideal beat to follow while performing chest compressions as part of CPR on a heart attack victim. (So, in order to save someone’s life I just have to visualize John Travolta’s ass swinging back and forth to the soothing sounds of Barry Gibb’s falsetto? Cool.)

The American Heart Association calls for chest compressions to be given at a rate of 100 per minute in cardiopulmonary resuscitation (CPR). "Stayin' Alive" almost perfectly matches that, with 103 beats per minute. (I always knew this song was bitchin’! But this is awesome!)

CPR is a lifesaving technique involving chest compressions alone or with mouth-to-mouth rescue breathing. (So, I use the Bee Gees for chest compressions, I got that. But who, oh who do I model the mouth-to-mouth after?) It is used in emergencies such as cardiac arrest in which a person's breathing or heartbeat has stopped.

CPR can triple survival rates, but some people are reluctant to do it in part because they are unsure about the proper rhythm for chest compressions. (And the answer is the Bee Gees? Does this theory only apply to ‘Stayin’ Alive or their entire discography? Because ‘Jive Talkin’ might be a life saver too. Or you might just get your ass kicked.) But research has shown many people do chest compressions too slowly during CPR.

In a small study headed by Dr. David Matlock of the University of Illinois College of Medicine at Peoria, listening to "Stayin' Alive" helped 15 doctors and medical students to perform chest compressions on dummies at the proper speed. (Was this a remedial medical school? It’s kind of frightening that the doctors and medical students couldn’t keep count during CPR without the help of three Aussies wearing jeans so tight they sing like girls).

Five weeks after practicing with the music playing, they were asked to perform CPR again on dummies (like mice and their cheese) by keeping the song in their minds, and again they kept up a good pace. (Think any of them sang along? ‘Well you can tell by the way I use my walk, I’m a woman’s man, no time for talk’).

"The theme 'Stayin' Alive' is very appropriate for the situation, (no pun right Dr. Feelgood?)" Matlock said in a telephone interview on Thursday. "Everybody's heard it at some point in their life. People know the song and can keep it in their head." (And herein lies the problem. You get that song stuck in your head for daaaayyyyssss. You'll be minding your own bidness, picking out a sammich at Subway and you'll find yourself humming, "Ah, Ah, Ah, Ah Stayin' Alive, Stayin' Alive. You just sang along, didn't you?)

The findings will be presented this month at a meeting of the American College of Emergency Physicians in Chicago. (I wonder if Barry Gibb will give the keynote?)

(Writing by Will Dunham; Editing by David Storey)

Okay, a gold star to the person who can tell me in which Star Wars movie the Wookie sings the chorus from ‘Stayin’ Alive’.

Sunday, December 7, 2008


Sixty-seven years ago today the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor. I've been to the USS Arizona memorial. The wall that lists all of the names of the lives that were lost that day was too large to fit in the view finder of my camera. There were that many. It was one of the most sobering, humbling expierences of my life.

Take a moment today to remember all of those who served in WWII and all of the conflicts throughout the world. Thank a veteran for the freedom you enjoy every day. They put their life on the line for it.

Personally, I'd like to thank:

My great-grandfather, Auto Duel for serving in the Air Force during WWII
My father, Roger Duel for serving in the Marines during Vietnam
My uncle, Larry Duel for serving in the Marines during Vietnam
My daughter's grandfather, Tom Brown for serving in the Air Force during Korea
My daughter's father for serving in the Army during the Gulf War
My "baby" cousin Ryan Duel, currently serving in the Army in Iraq
My daughter's godfather, Hardy Houston for serving in the Navy during the Gulf War and the Iraq War
My friend John Rascon for serving in the Marines
My friend Leigh Zimmerman for serving in the Navy
My friends Steve & Degan Outridge for serving in the Navy
My grandfather Pete Davila for serving in the Army during Korea
My friend Luiz Cruz for serving in the Army

For each soldier who has served this country. I thank you with all my heart and pray each day for your safe and swift return home.

Goooooo CATS!

We moved to Tucson, AZ when I was 9 years old. As I grew up, my love and devotion the University of Arizona grew as well. While I didn't attend the U of A, I am a Wildcat through and through and I bleed red and blue. And, as my love for the "U" grew, so did my disdain for the ASU Sun Devils....ahem...I mean "Scum" Devils.

The U of A and ASU rivlary is the thing legends are made of (read: UGA and the Gators). Their football teams meet each year in what is commonly referred to as "The Duel in the Desert". This year it was held at the U of A. I'm a firm believer in the "start 'em young, raise 'em right" method of child rearing, so I bought tickets and took my daughter to see our Cats play. My friend Nicole came along. She'll be graduating in May from ASU.

After a two hour drive from Phoenix, and a stop at Eegee's (y'all from Tucson know what I mean!), we were at Wildcat Stadium cheering on our beloved Wildcats. It was a great game! There was a little guy behind us that must have been 5. He would chant, "U - of- A! U - of - A!" and knew all the words to 'Bear Down Arizona'. He was fabulous!

The second half was so exciting! We had a effing fantastic interception and punt return that resulted in two more touchdowns. Which lead our Cats to a 31 - 10 victory over ASU. Or should I say, AS-Who?

To my team and my fellow fans - Goooooooo CATS!

Friday, November 28, 2008

Jimminy Crickets!

It's been over two years since I grossed out Paula Deen (and the nation) with my fried butter creation. I still get hits on my blog from people searching for the (not so) tasty treats. It's like they've taken on a life of their own. So much so, someone decided to make a t-shirt about them.

Paula, I'm bringing my baby girl back to Savannah in March and I would love to cook something for you that actually tastes Because, girl I tear it up in the kitchen. Especially Mexican food. And I promise, I'll wear the shirt. ;-)

Where I Be At

So, I haven't posted much lately. And not because I haven't had things on my mind or the desire to share those things. But, life threw me a curve and I had to deal with it before it took me over.

To start, I worked at a land developement company. It doesn't take a mental giant to realize that with the state of the economy, specifically the housing market, that land developers are not doing well. The company I worked for was no exception. They started laying people off in February. And my turn came in September.

I was devestated. I received a generous severance package, but that didn't asuage my fears of how I was going to provide for my daughter. But I didn't have the luxury of throwing myself a pity party. I needed a j-o-b. Which, I finally found and am finally being paid what I'm worth.

Part of my severance package was two months of health coverage. So I made every docotor's appointment I could think of. Including a mammogram (which wasn't that bad and came back negative ~ YAY me!) and an appointment with a dermotologist. I had a bump on the side of my face I thought was just a colorless mole. But it's me. I'm not that lucky. My dermo handed it to me like it was a lolipop. Skin Cancer.

I'm happy to say that I saw a wonderful doctor and am now cancer free. YAY me!

So, the past few months, while rough have been filled with friends and family who love me and have helped and supported me along the way. For this I am humbled and truly thankful.

I have a ton of ideas I've been saving and will be posting (hopefully) daily if not weekly.

I hope this post finds you well and loved. Thanks for reading! :-)

Saturday, November 22, 2008

Things You'll Only Hear at Thanksgiving

Compliments of my best friend, Susie...

1. Talk about a huge breast!

2. Tying the legs together keeps the inside moist.

3. It's Cool Whip time!

4. If I don't undo my pants, I'll burst!

5. Whew, that's one terrific spread!

6. I'm in the mood for dark meat.

7. Are you ready for seconds yet?

8. It's a little dry, do you still want to eat it?

9. Just wait your turn, you'll get some.

10. Don't play with your meat.

11. Just spread the legs open and stuff it in.

12. Do you think you'll be able to handle all these people at once?

13. I didn't expect everyone to come at once!

14. You still have a little bit on your chin.

15. How long will it take after you stick it in?

16. You'll know it's ready when it pops up.

17. Wow, I didn't think I could handle all of that!

18. That's the biggest one I've ever seen!

19. How long do I beat it before it's ready?

Happy Thanksgiving!

Sunday, October 26, 2008


I found this t-shirt at Wal-Mart. I really wish I knew someone this applied to, because I so want to buy it for someone I love. People over 80, I guess.

Saturday, October 25, 2008

What's That Smell?

The Stink in Farts Controls Blood Pressure (Jesus Herbert Christ…where or where do I begin?)

A smelly rotten-egg gas in farts (could they have used a different word, maybe? Toot? Flatulence? Poodyoink? Bucksnort?) controls blood pressure in mice, a new study finds.

The unpleasant aroma of the gas (well, now that’s delicate. My ex-husband could carpet bomb a small city with the ~ as he puts it ~ “barking spiders” he lets fly), called hydrogen sulfide (H2S) (funny, I thought it was called ‘toxic waste’), can be a little too familiar, as it is expelled by bacteria living in the human colon and eventually makes its way, well, out.

The new research found that cells lining mice's blood vessels naturally make the (as opposed to going to their local Chevron) and this action can help keep the rodents' blood pressure low by relaxing the blood vessels to prevent hypertension (high blood pressure). This gas is "no doubt" produced in cells lining human blood vessels too, the researchers said.

"Now that we know hydrogen sulfide's role in regulating blood pressure, it may be possible to design drug therapies that enhance its formation as an alternative to the current methods of treatment for hypertension," (Why bother developing “treatments”? Just give them a gift card to Macayo’s for some Mexican food.) said Johns Hopkins neuroscientist Solomon H. Snyder, M.D., a co-author of the study detailed in the Oct. 24th issue of the journal Science.

Snyder and his colleagues compared normal mice to mice that were missing a gene for an enzyme known as CSE, long suspected (all they had to do was post it's picture at the post office!) as being responsible for making hydrogen sulfide. As they measured hydrogen sulfide levels taken from tissues of the CSE-deficient mice, the scientists found that the gas was depleted in the cardiovascular systems of the altered mice. By contrast, normal mice had higher levels of the gas (I wonder if they gave the mice Bean-O? Shit. I think I just figured out the right treatment! Mexican Food+Beano-O = low blood pressure! I'm a genius!!), thereby showing that hydrogen sulfide is naturally made by mammalian tissues using CSE.

Next, the mice were subjected to higher blood pressures comparable to serious hypertension in humans (did they give the mice a Big Mac and a job on Wall Street?). Scientists had them respond (how? By asking politely?) to a chemical called methacholine that relaxes normal blood vessels. The blood vessels of the CSE-lacking mice hardly relaxed, indicating that hydrogen sulfide is a huge contender for regulating blood pressure.

Hydrogen sulfide is the most recently discovered member of a family of gasotransmitters (I guess they never heard of Howard Stern’s gasotransmitter ~ Fart Man), small molecules inside our bodies with important physiological functions.

Because gasotransmitters are common in mammals all over the evolutionary tree (those damn farting cows!), these findings on the importance of hydrogen sulfide are thought to have broad applications to human diseases, such as diabetes and neurodegenerative diseases (so, if I toot a lot, I can regulate my blood sugar and avoid dementia? Bitchin’).

The research was supported by grants from the U.S. Public Health Service and the Canadian Institutes of Health Research as well as a Research Scientist Award. (Someone gave them money for this!? I wonder how much money I could get for one of my bullshit ideas? Probably gazillions!)

Thursday, October 23, 2008

Halloween Candy

So, what makes the smaller sizes of candy "fun"? Are the full size candy bars considered "serious"?

I mean, I know size matters and all. But, I’ve never had more fun eating a miniature size of my favorite candy bar. I've been completely satisfied, but that was more of a hormonal issue and a topic for a whoooollle nutha kind of post.

I’ll admit, I do enjoy finding new ways to eat chocolate (get your mind out of the gutter Paula Jo). But I would never describe it as “fun”. Maybe I’m eating the wrong kind of candy…

Monday, October 20, 2008

I Don't Care Which Side You're On

This is just funny.

I Would Love to See This Guy's Personal Ad!

Police arrest Mich. man for car wash vacuum sex
Sat Oct 18, 7:56 pm ET

THOMAS TOWNSHIP, Mich. – Police say a Michigan man has been arrested after "receiving sexual favors from a vacuum" at a car wash (how does one receive sexual favors from a vacuum? Does the vacuum reeaally have a say so in this scenario?).

The Saginaw News reports the 29-year-old Swan Creek Township man was arrested Thursday in Saginaw County's Thomas Township, about 90 miles northwest of Detroit (I didn’t think the GM-Chrysler merger would affect people so much!).

Police Sgt. Gary Breidinger says a resident called to report suspicious activity at the car wash about 6:45 a.m. An officer approached on foot and caught the man in the act (damn! The economy is really hitting everyone hard. This poor fool can’t even afford to see a hooker anymore! He had to resort to using the .50 cent vacuum at the local Buff’n’Shine. Geez! Talk about polishing your knob…)

The suspect, whose name wasn't immediately released (oh, but you know it will be…), is being held in the Saginaw County Jail.

Saturday, October 18, 2008

Along Came Polly

So, by now, all y'all know that my special gift from God was seeing random odd things while I'm driving. This is why I always carry my camera. Always.

Yesterday was one such day. I was on my way to work and I saw a strapping young lad on a motocycle. He had on one of those ridiculous helmets that has a mohawk on it. Seriously, they're just stoopid.

This particular helmet was special, though. It was red...bright candy apple red. With a neon green mohawk. This fool looked like a damn parrot!

I felt so bad for this poor thing. He doesn't have any friends to tell him he looks like a jackass. I hope he finds some soon. Some friends and some saltines.

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

Rite of Passage

Well...I've reached a milestone in my life. It's time for my very first mammogram. Yay me!

I've been talking to friends who have already had theirs. And, I can say that I am honestly not looking forward to it. Call me crazy, but having someone squish the girls (whose names are 'Real' and 'Spectacular') between two pieces of cold, hard plexiglass does not sound like a good time.

More than that, doesn't the word "mammogram" sound like something that should be delivered with balloons and a song? Think about it..."Mammo - Gram!"

I think that afterwards I'm going to buy myself some flowers and a balloon. You know, I may be on to something. Wouldn't this be a great marketing campaign? I mean, it is Breast Cancer Awareness month. I can just hear the jingle now..."Get your mammies grammied today!!"

On a more serious daughter is at risk for breast cancer. Chances are, someone you know and care about is at risk, too. Support Breast Cancer events in your area - like participating or sponsoring someone in a Susan G. Komen event. Because, after all....Tatas make the world go round.

Thursday, October 9, 2008

Flipper's Mafia

EDGEWATER, Fla. - A woman is recovering in Florida after a dolphin hit her when it leaped aboard the boat she was in (see what you get boys and girls for not buying dolphin safe tuna?).

The Coast Guard says witnesses called 911 Thursday after seeing the dolphin jump from the Intracoastal Waterway and hit Barbara Howard of Mansfield, Ohio (why is it that I picture this dolphin wearing a black mask and making ninja-like sounds? What a great movie idea for M. Night Shamalamadingdong!! “ Ninja Dolphins of the Damned!”)

Howard was sitting in an 18-foot boat with her husband, their daughter and their daughter's boyfriend.

The Howards say the dolphin jumped about six feet high (oooooo….Olympic Ninja Dolphins of the Damned!) and landed on the bow (holy shit! It did a pile driver!).

They say it slid in their laps and its thrashing tail knocked them to the deck. Their daughter's boyfriend rolled the dolphin back into the water (soooo...her boyfriend is good with rolling large, slippery things into water. Interesting.).

The husband and wife were treated at a hospital for cuts and bruises and released (Wait. Cuts? Was this a latino dolphin?)

Sunday, August 3, 2008

This Picture Made Me Wonder...

I was browing Yahoo!'s most popular news stories and found this picture

I was left to wonder...

(1) Do you think designers sit down and design the most outrageously stupid outfit just to see if they can get people to wear it? Kind of like The Emperor's New Clothes? I understand that sometimes designs aren't meant to wear in public, they're more of a peice of art...but seriously, this is just stupid. It kind of reminds me of a character from the cartoon Real Monsters.

(2) There is no way you could get me to wear a frown over my who-ha. That's just good policy. This model is walking down the runway with a sad coochie. What does this say about her? Has it been a while? Does she smell like tuna? Does she suck in bed? Poor little sad cooter.

I think this is why I should never go to fashion shows. I would see something and have to comment or I would just laugh loud, long and proud. Just give me some faded blue jeans and a comfy top and I'm happy. Oh, and panties with a smile on them. ;-)

Friday, July 25, 2008

Randy Pausch

Some time ago, I was at home on a Friday night (surprise!) and found myself channel surfing. I eventually landed upon a story 20/20 was doing on a professor from Carnegie Mellon University. His name was Randy Pausch.

Professor Pausch had been invited to give a lecture as part of the university’s Last Lecture Series. The ironic part is, he had just been diagnosed with terminal pancreatic cancer. And even though he was looking death straight in the face, he gave one of the best lectures I have ever seen. Full of hope, humor, intelligence and candor. I was so touched by this man and his lecture. I just couldn't believe that someone like this existed!

His lecture was turned into a book and you can watch the full lecture on YouTube. If you haven’t seen or read his lecture, do it. You will be a better person for it. I mean, really…how often do you get to listen to an angel spread a message about hope, love and humanity?

Sadly, Randy Pausch passed away early this morning. My heart, thoughts and prayers go out to his family.

From MSNBC...

'Last lecture' professor dies of cancer Randy Pausch, a former Carnegie Mellon University computer scientist whose "last lecture" about facing terminal cancer became an international sensation, died Friday. He was 47.

Thursday, July 24, 2008

Someone call SuperNanny!

I have a new neighbor. Last Saturday a lady and her young son moved into the town home across the street from me.

Ever since moving day I am awakened at 6:30 a.m. by the shrill scream of a toddler. Even on the weekends! That's right, her little ray of sunshine is 3.

Every morning she tries to get him into the car so she can (I assume) take him to daycare so she can start her happy day.

The problem is, this kid don't wanna go. And so, he screams. Any parent of a toddler knows this scream. It's loud, long and high. The term "shrill" or "banshee" would definitely apply.

Now, I'm old. And I like my sleep. So when this old, sleepy girl is awakened by the shrill-banshee-like scream of a toddler...I want to smack the kid.

You may see me on the news in the coming weeks as the estrogen level in my bloodstream increases. I honestly don't think I'll be able to stop myself from flying out of bed, down the stairs and into the street while yelling a constant stream of obscenities, en espanol.

I swear, all that kid needs is a good swat on the butt and he wouldn't scream anymore. Because he would know that retaliation would be swift and decisive.

Seriously've been warned.

Sunday, July 20, 2008

Happy Annivorceary to Me!

That's right, I said Annivorceary ~ not Anniversary. The fourth anniversary of my divorce has just passed. I'd love to say that I came up with the term "annivorceary", but I owe that little gem to the writers from West Wing.

Now, before any of y'all get your pretty little panites in a bunch about my celebrating this milestone in my life. I am not, by any means, celebrating the fact that I got a divorce. I'm celebrating the fact that I survived one. Yay me!

I held a little soiree this past Saturday to celebrate this and to have my girls over to my new home. The last party I had with my girls had all the markings of a fabulous event: laundry room door was knocked off the track, a wine glass was broke, the carpet got spilled on and Patty passed out.

This year was a little more tame. I cooked a bunch of Mexican food and Patty mixed some "Sharritas" (these would be margaritas inspired by me - pink in color and peach in flavor - yum!). We even had the stuff to make some NOLA Screwdrivers, but surprisingly we didn't even break into it.

But, let me take you back a bit. Chris was going to show up an hour early so we could catch up before everyone else showed up. I was about to assemble the Enchizana when I remembered that I hadn't watered my rose bushes yet. So, I filled up a jug and went out front to water my pretty flowers and promptly locked myself out.


By the grace of God, I had my cell in my pocket and called Susie - who was already on her way over and was only a few minutes away with a spare set of keys. This isn't the first time I've locked myself out while watering the roses. And I'm apparently not smart enough to just leave the door open - so Susie has a spare set on her keyring to come save my dumbass.

Then Chris called. Shit! She was already there and couldn't find me. I said, "Girl take your time. I done locked myself out of the house."

All I heard was a deep sigh. And then she pulled up to my house, got out of her car and said, "Well, it's beautiful from the outside. You so sad!"

At aroung 9:30 we decided it was time to hit a dancefloor. We made it over to the Sandbar, did a shot of liquid courage and hit the floor. As usual, the boys found us. We spent the better of two hours dancing with boys and sweating like stuck pigs.

I woke up this morning with a pounding headache and smelling like the sweaty boy I danced with the night before. It was awful. I smelled like a fart. Seriously. I have never used so much body wash in my life. A few motrin later and some Huevos Rancheros for breakfast and I was back in business. I started cleaning up and was doing well for an hour before the hangover took over and I slept for four hours.

Ahhh...I love parties with my girls.

Friday, July 18, 2008


Located in beautiful Star Valley, Arizona you will find this...

If you'll look closely you can even see an arrow sticking out of the cow. So, I could go on and on with the sarcasm. Instead, I'll just hope that y'all have a great weekend and don't practice beastiality.

Brings a whole new meaning to the "Beef: It's what's for dinner" campaign, don't it?

Saturday, July 12, 2008

How Have I Missed This!?

I've seen 'The Birdcage' about 3,298 times. I simply love it. While I dearly love each character in an unnatural unhealthy way, Agador Spartacus is by far my favorite. I can never listen to "She Works Hard for the Money" without adding his little "eh eh, eh eh".

At the beginning of the movie, after the "We Are Family" number, when the 'girls' come off the stage and begin getting into costume for the next number. On stage, in the viewers direct line of vision, but behnd the main characters, is a very fit young man in black/white cowskin chaps and vest blowing a trumpet to sound the 'charge'.

He has no pants or chonies on. None. He's in a lovely pair of assless chaps.

All you see is his very firm, very toned ass.

So, this makes me wonder...what else have I been missing because I've been busy watching the story and not what's going on in the background?

I've begun watching all of my favortie movies again to see what I may have missed. So far nothing. When I've watched a few and find nothing I watch 'The Birdcage' again to soothe my disappointment. You know, for Agador Spartacus. Kind of like reading Playboy for the articles.

And then I begin to wonder, what is 'schmecken' anyway?

Saturday, July 5, 2008

Gracie Lou Has Nuthin' on Me!

I broke my toe. More specifically, the big toe on my right foot.

I was heading up to bed and turned off the light in the living room, thinking that I would be able to see because the light in the hallway was on.

I was so wrong.

The light wasn't on and I was suddenly plunged into darkness. I was tired and now pissed because I couldn't see.

In my groggy, cranky state I somehow had forgotten that I had already climbed up three stairs. I turned around so that I could flip on the light switch for the hall way and promptly fell down the stairs, breaking my big toe along the way.

So, for the past week I've had a noticeable limp. Kind of a pimp walk, actually.

I already have two gold teeth and now with my pimp walk, I would like to be known by my professional ghetto name....

Sharrita Rochelle Lynn Davis-Brown.

Thursday, June 19, 2008

There is nothing better...

Than spending time with your child. Currently, I'm watching Monty Python's Holy Grail with my daughter. She's laughing her ass off, which in turn is making me giggle. I nearly peed the first time I saw this movie and it seems that my daughter is having the same experience.

So, the moral of this story is...

Always remember what the Monty Python boys say....."You never expect the Spanish Inquisition."

Run away, run away, run away....

Thursday, June 5, 2008

Seriously...He's a Dumbass

Dutch man injures posterior in mooning accident (is it just me or do you have “Bad Moon Rising” stuck in your head now?)

Wed Jun 4, 1:11 AM ET

Utrecht police say a 21-year-old Dutch man is recovering after a "mooning" that went horribly awry. (I giggle every time I read that!)

A police statement says the man and two others had run down a street in Utrecht with their pants pulled down in the back "for a joke." (I bet they looked like nekkid penguins a-waddlin’ down the street…or retards.)

It says that at one point the 21-year-old "pushed his behind against the window of a restaurant" that broke (he broke a window with his ass!? Now that is a superpower ~ Don’t worry kids! Ass Man is here! ) and resulted in "deep wounds to his derriere." (thank God he didn’t fart while taking out that window – he would have blown the place to smithereens with that powerful hiney o’ his!)

The statement released Tuesday says police detained the three men after the incident Sunday morning. But the cafe owner decided not to press charges after the men agreed to pay for the broken window. (besides, it just makes a good story…”three dumbasses walk into a café…”)

The injured man was treated for his injuries at a nearby hospital. (maybe Prince can loan him a pair of ass-less pants).

Wednesday, June 4, 2008

Nana Beans

My ex-husband's mother passed away recently. Her obituary is beautiful and I thought I'd share it with the world so that everyone may know the beauty that was Nana Beans.


Noreen "Nell" Frances Brown Known by her granddaughter as "Nana-Beans", passed away quietly on May 30, 2008.

She was the second of five daughters, and came as an early Christmas present to Vera and Frank Farrell in December 1948 in Bogota, NJ. Nell and her family moved to Tucson in 1958 where she graduated from Salpointe Catholic High.

Nell is survived by her daughter, Kris Pattyson; her son, Kevin Brown; her granddaughter and the twinkle in her eye. In addition she is survived by her four sisters, Kathy Dehn, Colleen Babcock, Joanie Mauger and Maryanne Kizuka; and her "cohort in crime" Aunt Rosemary Burgerhoudt.

Though the last few years of Nell's life were plagued by the effect of fighting cancer her concerns were always about her family. Nell was a wonderful loving mother and grandmother and a friend to all and in the words of her son, "She has now become a great guardian angel to all". The family extends a special thank you to Hospice Family Care for their loving care of Nell during her final days.

Nana Beans and her Silly Duck...

Thursday, May 29, 2008


Mexican donkey jailed for ornery behavior (how surprising! The Popo locked up a Mexican for being an a s s…)

A donkey is doing time in southern Mexico for assault and battery. (Oh, holy hell.)

The animal was locked up at a local jail that normally holds people for public drunkenness and other disturbances after it bit and kicked two men near a ranch in Chiapas state, police said Monday. (What I want to know is why the donkey felt the need to “assault” and “batter” these men? Would this have something to do with a donkey show?)

Officer Sinar Gomez said the donkey will remain behind bars until its owner agrees to pay the men's medical bills.

"Around here, if someone commits a crime they are jailed," Gomez said — "no matter who they are." (I could understand this if maybe we were talking about a high political official or something…but a don-KEY!?)

The owner, Mauro Gutierrez, told The Associated Press he would try to reach a friendly arrangement to pay the men's bills, estimated at US$420 (euro270). (See, not that’s just sad. A beast of burden kicked the ever lovin’ shit outta these two fools!)

The victims said the donkey bit Genaro Vazquez, 63, in the chest (why the sam hill was this man’s chest that close to a donkey’s mouth? Are they sure this didn’t happen in Jackass Junction?) on Sunday and then kicked 52-year-old Andres Hernandez as he tried to come to the rescue, fracturing his ankle.

"All of a sudden, the animal was on top of us like it was rabid," Hernandez said. (Maybe Stephen King can make this into a new movie about a rabid renegade donkey terrorizing a small Mexican town! I can see the trailer now….”This summer. A new thriller from the dark mind of Stephen King: Burro – he only brays once.”)

Police said it took a half-dozen men to control the enraged burro. (Why? All it should have taken is one woman with a tranquilizer gun.)

Chiapas police have thrown animals in the slammer before (And the Darwin Award for Most Boneheaded Police Force goes to…), including a bull that devoured corn crops and destroyed two wooden vending stands in March. (What? He got liquored up on some corn-shine and fell down. Like we all haven’t done the same thing!)

In 2006, a dog was locked up for 12 days after biting someone. His owners were fined US$18. (only 12 days, huh? Must have been a misdemeanor).

What kind of cuffs you think they use for animals? Maybe the little plastic things from a six pack of Coke...

Tuesday, May 20, 2008

Why I Carry a Camera in My Purse

I was driving home from the library last night when I spied this fine piece of art...

If you can't make out what it is...let me enlighten you...
It's a shaved decapitated baby doll head with nails driven into it. It has been painted with various shades of brown and black and also has some sort of glitter all over it. Maybe it was a disco ball from a tribe of Congo head shrinkers?
On top of the baby doll head is another smaller baby doll. Also with nails driven into it.
Now, I'm not certain if this was a tribute to "Sid" from 'Toy Story' or if I happened to be driving next to someone who practices Voodoo or if this person has something against baby dolls. But it was defiantely the most disturbing antenna ball I've ever seen. Hell, it made me laugh and I thought I'd share.

Friday, May 16, 2008

Dick Museum

While browsing through the ‘Most Popular’ news stories on Yahoo!, I ran across this gem of a news piece and thought I’d share with y’all. Enjoy, have a good laugh and a great weekend!
Love ya ~ mean it!

Icelandic museum offers long and short of male organ
By Bob StrongThu May 15, 10:22 AM ET

Sigurdur Hjartarson is missing a human penis (and a name that makes sense). But he's not worried: four men have promised to donate theirs to him when they die (I’ve heard of the ‘Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants’ ~ But the Brotherhood of the Donated Weiner is too much).

Hjartarson is founder and owner of the Icelandic Phallological Museum, which offers visitors from around the world a close-up look at the long and the short of the male reproductive organ (so we can now have visual proof that size really does matter!)

His collection, which began in 1974 with a single bull's penis that looked something like a riding crop (I can only imagine him coming up with this idea over a huge plate of Rocky Mountain Oysters), now boasts 261 preserved members from 90 species.

The largest, from a sperm whale, is 70 kg (154 lb) and 1.7 meters (5.58 ft) long. The smallest, a hamster penis bone, is just 2 mm and must be viewed through a magnifying glass.

One species conspicuous by its absence is homo sapiens (Maybe Lorena Bobbit wasn’t trying to kill her husband! Girlfriend was just trying to make a donation to a museum!), but that may soon be rectified since a German, an American, an Icelander and a Briton have promised to donate their organs after death, according to certificates on display.

The American, 52-year-old Stan Underwood, supplied a written description of his penis (I wonder how different a description written by his wife would be? Hmmmm…) -- which he purportedly nick-named "Elmo" (well that just brings a whole new meaning to “Tickle Me Elmo” doesn’t it?) -- for display alongside a life-size plastic mould of the member (okay…I have to ask…hard or soft?) as well as his pledge to donate it.

Hjartarson said the Icelandic donor, a 93-year-old from nearby Akureyri, was a womanizer in his youth who thought having his penis in the collection might bring him eternal fame. (This fools legacy to the world isn’t a donation to a humanitarian effort or to help find a cure for disease, but his over-used schlong. Nice. See! Men really do think with their dicks!)

But vanity may make him rethink the offer. (Men are vain about their tallywhackers!?)

"He has mentioned lately that his penis is shrinking as he gets older (ummm…DUH!) and he is worried it might not make a proper exhibit, (exactly which part of this ENTIRE museum is “proper”?) " Hjartarson said.


The museum, originally opened in Reykjavik in 1997, has now moved to the quiet fishing village of Husavik, 480 km (298 miles) northeast of the capital.

Open from May to September, it is housed in a plain brown building, the entrance marked by a tall brown phallus near the door and a penis-shaped sign over the front porch. (The museum café is called “Woody’s” and the house drinks are the Slippery Dick and Blow Job)

A growing number of people from all over the world view the collection each year, 60 percent of them women. (Well, you can't blame a sister for needing a good laugh)

"We had 6,000 visitors last summer and actually made a profit," Hjartarson said with a smile.

The specimens, most of which were donated by fishermen, hunters and biologists, are kept in glass jars of formaldehyde or dried and mounted on the wall (makes sense...that’s what I did with my ex-husbands penis. His balls I keep in a velvet case on my dresser) , creating an atmosphere that is part science lab, part trophy room. (Oh God, this article gets more and more ri”dick”ulous as it goes on…)

Hjartarson has paid for only one -- an elephant penis nearly 1 meter long that hangs, stuffed and mounted on a wooden board, in the museum's "foreign section."

He said he began collecting penises 24 years ago, when working as a school administrator, with little notion he would one day be running a museum devoted to the subject.

"It was just a hobby," (WHY!? Why would collecting stuffed, pickled one-eyed-wonder-worms be your hobby? I hope people use Purell after shaking this man's hand) he said, adding that the collection was relegated to his office until the inception of the museum.

"They were not on display in the sitting room."

The museum's "folklore collection" includes a few sculptures and joke items, but no sex toys or paraphernalia (you need to go to Paula Jo’s bedroom for those. ;-) ). The more risque displays stay under wraps.

"Two elderly German women came in a while ago and after viewing the exhibit, they scolded me for displaying a group of figurines in Kama Sutra poses (I used to do that with my Barbies!) , so I put them in here," Hjartarson said, lifting a black cloth off a glass-topped box labeled 'Erotica'.
"This way nobody has to view them unless they want to."

Hjartarson maintains a light-hearted approach to his delicate subject matter, saying a sense of humor and a bit of intelligence are necessary to appreciate the collection.

"I hope visitors leave the museum in a better mood than when they arrived," he said. (I wouldn’t be able to help myself…I’d be singing the Oscar Meyer Weiner song the whole time I was there).

Just in case you’d like to see the entire collection…you can visit their website…

Sigurdur Hjartarson, owner and founder of the Icelandic Phallological Museum, poses next to a stuffed elephant penis at the museum in Husavik May 8, 2008. (Bob Strong/Reuters)

Tuesday, May 13, 2008

Mother's Day

I hope everyone had a pleasant Mother's Day. Personally, mine was fabulous! I was showered with presents from my daughter. A bag that I had been wanting, several varieties of chocolates, pedicure essentials and a simulated diamond necklace. YAY me! While the simulated diamond necklace (I later learned came from Target) was by far the sweetest gift my daughter has given me, the card she chose for this Mother's Day was truly unforgettable.

On the front it read, "To MOM..."

And on the inside...

"...the woman who taught me to defy gravity."

It warms my heart to know that my precious, sweet little angel has inheirited her mother's sarcasm and sense of humor. *sniff* She makes me so proud...

Friday, May 2, 2008

Wednesday, April 23, 2008

Habby Bird Day

Today would have been my grandmother's 72nd birthday. She died 12 years ago from lung cancer. I wore a red dress to her funeral because she loved color and I was forbidden to wear black. I figured dressing like a tramp would have given her a chuckle.

My grandmother is amazing. I say "is" because I still think that way about her. She always made me laugh, which is probably why I gave her the title of Funny Grandma.

She wore toilet paper on the nose guards of her glasses when she ironed, loves to "jive talk", always has Ovaltine, loves my Buckwheat impersonation, she has every shade of purple/lavendar nail polish known to man, she has a booming laugh, she loves her "stories" (read: novellas), she wore red lipstick when she was young and her kitchen always smells like chiles, garlic, lime and cumin. Sometimes I'll sautee those ingredients just to feel close to her. And, they taste good on my huevos.

So, in the Mexican accent para mi familia...

Habby Bird Day to ju...
Habby Bird Day to ju...
Habby Bird Day to Funny Grandma....
Habby Bird Day to ju!

Con mas dulces,

Sunday, April 13, 2008

I Was Minding My Own Business!

I was tasked with putting together a map for Rebuilding Together. I couldn't just put a text box with 202-E on it and be happy. Oh, no, no, no. I thought I could find a 202 graphic on-line. So I googled "az sr 202". I was minding my own business when I found this...

Ah, good 'ol Oatman, AZ! As if the name "Jackass Junction" weren't fun enough...look just under the 'n' in Junction. The sign reads: "Badges & Brothel Tokens".

I had no idea that whores were accepting tokens as currency these days. I don't even want to know what slot those tokens go in.

So, I mention this find to my friend Teresa. She is an avid Harley fan and has taken many a day trip throughout our great state. She's been to Oatman. Even better, she can explain the sign.

Apparently, in Oatman wild donkeys roam the streets. One can only assume that is why Oatman is commonly referred to as "Jackass Junction".

Wild donkeys, huh? Oh, the images that little statement conjured up...

Bands fo renegade donkeys roaming the streets of a sleepy little Arizona town. Throwing gang signs at each other. Each gang fighting for control of the West Siiide!

I'm planning a little day trip to Oatman. I gotta see this shit for myself.

College Scholarships

I didn't go to college. Well, technically I went to a community college for three weeks, but that's a whoollleee nutha story. Anyway, I've begun to research scholarships and grants for my daughter. College isn't that far off for her and I need to get my ass in gear.

I recently found Myyyy do they have a lot to say. They peaked my interest when they promised they could find just the right scholarship for me and/or my offspring. And they could do all of this if I would take just two minutes of my time and answer their brief questionnaire.

Oh goody!

So, I began answering the questionnaire on my daughter's behalf. At first I was hit with the standard questions: Which colleges are you considering? What field of study? Other interests? Your general bullshit.

Then the really interesting questions started coming in...

Are you a Fat Acceptance supporter?

Duck Calling?

Tall People?

Oh, if only these were fill-in-the-blank answers!

Why yes! I do support tall fat people who can make duck calls! Sign me up for Underwater Basket Weaving 101!!

Now, I know the questions were ambiguous and had to cover a wide range of people searching for a way to pay for their higher education, blah, blah, blah.

But when you're searching for scholarships the last thing you expect to be hit with is a question about your duck calling skills. (mine are fabulous!)

Thursday, April 10, 2008

Fathers & Daughters

I usually take the same route home every night after work. It's become so routine that I'm usually on autopilot and don't notice the things around me. It's just the same old thing. Cars, buildings, palm trees, cars, get the picture.

One day during a particularly mind-numbing round of rush hour gridlock, something caught my eye. A man and a little girl walking on the sidewalk. Obviously father and daughter. The man had a backpack slung across one shoulder and in his right hand he held papers from the little girls day: a piece of finger paint art, some of her writings and of course the obligatory macaroni collage. In his other hand, he held her little hand. She looked to be about four and had long hair that was the color of honey that the late afternoon sun made shine.

I could see the little girl chattering away telling her dad about her day. He listened patiently and nodded. I'm sure he was agreeing to how paste really does taste good and that the girl who picks her nose should really use a tissue.

It warmed my heart to see this. I smiled and finally made my way home.

The next day, I discovered myself looking for the man and his daughter. And there they were. Just like clockwork. I see them almost every day. And I wonder if this man knows that by doing something as simple as walking his daughter home and listening to her talk about her day he is giving his daughter a gift. He is giving her the opportunity to let his daughter express her feelings confidently. The act of giving her his attention and just the sheer force of his presence in her life will help her in every relationship she ever finds herself in. Can you imagine what would happen if the man in her life didn't listen to her? My guess is he'd become fast friends with the curb.

I don't have a good relationship with my dad. And I'm somewhat envious of this little girl. How different would my life had been if my father had just listened to me? Oh, well. Spilled milk, I'm not going to worry about it.

I may be reading more into the situation than there actually is. But, I don't care. I'm taking the lesson I see from this: to give my daughter my attention and to listen patiently about her day and to let her express herself freely. My fervent hope is that I am a decent example of a mother and a woman for her. Maybe if I listen, her life will be different - for the better.

All right. Who's up for a round of ' Kumbaya'?

Friday, April 4, 2008

My Friday Night

I had nothing interesting to do this Friday evening. Which is probably best because I'm volunteering at a Rebuilding Together event early tomorrow morning. Go me!

As I sit here eating my dinner the folks at Whole Foods prepared for me while watching Dateline, one thought keeps going through my ever wondering mind...

Keith Morrison....freaky lookin' dude.

Yeah, I know I shouldn't poke fun at how people look and how would I like it if someone said I was freaky lookin', blah, blah, blah...My answer: I guess I'd just put on my big girl panties and deal with it.

I mean after all, isn't that what us big headed freaks do? And besides, at least yer lookin'!

Monday, March 24, 2008

The Great Zebra Escape

Circus zebras make brief escape onto Baltimore streets
Associated PressMar. 21, 2008 08:15 AM

BALTIMORE - Three zebras from Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus briefly escaped from their downtown venue on Thursday but were quickly corralled by their trainer and two handlers. (Well…they were wearing the appropriate colors for a “jail” break.)

The zebras - Mali, Giza and Lima - spotted an open door (can’t you just see them all huddled around each other plotting? “Giza, Mali…make a run for it!”) at the 1st Mariner Arena and dashed into traffic on Hopkins Place, but were rounded up half a block away.

Carrie Coleman, a veterinary technician for the circus, told The (Baltimore) Sun it was a frightening incident because the animals were in traffic lanes before returning to the sidewalk. (Ok wait…the zebras returned to the sidewalk? All by themselves? Let me guess, that was part of their plan…they were trying to blend in, huh?)

"They may have thought they were headed home," (to where!? Africa? “Follow me my brothers! We are going home!) she said, adding that the zebras were not hurt.

The same three zebras, plus a fourth, made a similar escape in June during the circus' visit to Colorado Springs, Colo. (Okay, these zebras really need to stop watching Jumanji).

Wednesday, March 12, 2008

Fifteen Years Ago...

I was a passenger in a white Chevy pick-up truck. The truck was racing down a bumpy dirt road through the cool Georgia morning.

It was time. She was on her way.

The sun had yet to rise, no one was on the streets and all was calm. Except for my husband who I prayed wouldn't get into a wreck on the way to the hospital. I couldn't remember how I was supposed to breathe or what I was supposed to do. Is it really supposed to hurt this much? Nature remembered what to do and took over for me.

Four hours and thirteen minutes later I heard the sweetest sound.

A little cry. From a little girl.

After the weighing and the measuring was through and visiting hours were over, I lay in my bed holding the miracle that had just passed through me. What had I done right in my life to deserve this child? I was humbled before God. She had ten little fingers, ten little toes and the face of an angel. I was unaware of my capacity to love another soul until this day. As I lay there staring at this most perfect child, a wave of emotion swept over me and I cried tears of joy, fear and devotion. Everything I had ever known about myself and my life had been changed forever and for better.

Fifteen years have passed since that day and I am still humbled by the blessing God bestowed upon me. She has made my life rich. She has made my life complete. I cherish each moment I've had with her and thank God every day. She has made me a better person and taught me love, patience, humility and grace.

Happy Birthday angel baby!! Mommy and Daddy love you to all our hearts!

Friday, March 7, 2008

Online Love Test

I found this Online love test on one of my favorite blogs and decided to see what it said about me. Here are my results...

The Priss: Deliberate Brutal Love Dreamer (DBLD) Mature. Responsible. Aristocratic. Excuse me. The Priss.

Prisses are the smartest of all female types. You're highly perceptive, and confident in your judgements. You'd take brutal honesty over superficiality any time--your friends always know where they stand with you. You're completely unfake. Don't tell me that's not a word. You're also excellent at redirecting internal negative energy.

These facts indicate people are often intimidated by you. They also fall for you, hard. You have a distant, composed allure that many find irresistible. If only more of them lived up to your standards.

You were probably the last among your friends to have sex. And the first to pretend that you're pregnant. LOL. Though you're inclined to use sex as weapon, at least it's not as one of mass destruction. You're choosier than most about your partners. A supportive relationship is what you're really after. Whether you know it or not, you need something steady & long-term. And soothing.

Your exact female opposite:
The Playstation

Random Gentle Sex Master
Always avoid: The Playboy (RGSM), The Loverboy (RGLM)

Consider: The Manchild (RBLD)

Take the test yourself

Monday, March 3, 2008

Britney, Britney, Britney

I just read an article on AZCentral about Britney Spears dumping her paparazzi boyfriend. It’s like the Flava of Love, I can’t help but read this shit. One person posted the following comment…

I'm sure Brittney will be able to handle this betrayal in a sophisticated, grown-up manner - and put it behind her for the betterment of her health and her family.

Or she's going to do more blow than Tony Montana just before a shoot-out with a Colombian drug cartel.

Is it wrong that I found that comment hilarious!? I wonder if she says, "Say hello to my little friend!" in a British accent?

Friday, February 22, 2008

White Folk

I don’t even wanna lay claim to my half of this…but it’s accurate. I just registered online to the Savannah Morning News and this is what I find…

Lawd Jesus…

Wednesday, February 20, 2008

This Cracks My Ass Up!

My Apartment: An Interpretive Dance in Three Parts.
- - - -
Part One: The Landlord

Lights up. Immediately: greed. The hands are out, the belly is round. Smile. Step left, step back, step right, step forward. Squares. Now circles, like a vulture. Now turn, slowly. And freeze. Extend arms, as if for an embrace. Hold the potential tenant. Coddle him, stroke and swoon. Show the big bay windows, show the clawfoot tub. Big smiles. Agree to include heat and hydro. Twinkle toes, twinkle toes. Aren't you a friendly pixie? Shake hands and twirl, and curtsy. S ign the lease and twirl, and curtsy. Now freeze. Slowly turn again. Freeze. Take the tenant and bend him over, gently. Hold him from behind, prostrate, and begin to thrust from the hips. Be nice, at first, but gradually increase speed. Thrust, thrust, and what you didn't tell him is that the toilet runs all night and the neighbors raise pit bulls and only one of the baseboard heaters actually works and forget it if he thinks you're going to do anything about the broken lock on the back door, and smash the Tenancy Act with punching fists! Thrust and pump and punch. But. Wait. Big back arch, now ... pause ... gasp, and buck: the stinging scorpion. The body goes limp. Pull away, grinning. And jazz hands. And scene.

Part Two: The Roommate

Begin in squat position. Let the face speak of bowel movements. Some pain. Balled fists. The mouth opens. (Think Japanese No theater—better, think slo-mo Macaulay Culkin in Home Alone.) Arms to heaven, pleading, like Moses at the shores of the Red Sea. Exertion! A twitch! And now the face says glory. And flush. And slowly rise. And twirl past sink without washing hands. And skip two-three-four down dusty hallway, past broom leaning suggestively against wall, now rubbing the voided belly—hunger. To the kitchen. Circle the unwashed dishes, wavering. But not too long. Big step to the fridge and fling open the door. Convey something predatory—the food is not yours! The hands are flailing from fridge to mouth. The feet are doing that running-in-place thing from Flashdance. Grape leaves and dill pickles and 3-year-old cheddar and scones. The face, now it says yes. The wallet says beer money, the fridge says empty, the stomach says delicious. And the eyes! What's that in the eyes? Oh, that's right. The eyes say: absolute, pure, malevolent evil.

Part Three: The Rent

You lie on the floor, supine. Writhe. Now crawl on your stomach. Slither, you serpentine monster—stealthily, slowly, like something unearthed half-living from the depths of Hell. OK, now up on your feet. Use that breakdancing flip-up sort of move, if you can manage it. A step forward. You are a plodding zombie (à la "Thriller"). Another step. Convey a sense of dread. Now creepy gothic hands, beckoning. Then: hello, with fists on the door, pounding. The night, she is alive with thunder! Kaboom! And jump left and jump right, and—oh, fuck it—scream like a drunken soccer mom. Go freestyle for a bit. Dance like you own the world. Back to the door, fling it open. Touch your toes, touch the sky. Toes, sky, toes ... sky! And again—but whoa. Hold on. What's this? The tenant makes $11 an hour correcting the ESL exams of middle-aged Francophone businessmen? Backward somersault! Roll away! And now up again. Big belly laugh, with hands on hips and head lolling back and ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. Ha, ha, ha. Stop. Freeze. Slowly, begin to pogo. Pogo, pogo, with arms at sides, feet together. Faster now. Up and down, jumping: the bouncing check. And pause. And wait. And lights. And curtain.

You can read more here:

Wednesday, February 6, 2008

When I Die and They Lay Me to Rest

At My Funeral I’d Like My Friends and Family to:

[] Hold Hands in Prayer

[] Sing “Wind Beneath My Wings”
[] Do the hustle

I would like y’all to do option #3. Seriously. I want there to be dancing. Better yet – do all three: hold hands in prayer, Chri can sing and then y’all can get down with your bad selves.

Not that I’m planning on kicking the bucket anytime soon or anything. I’m just being prepared.

Wednesday, January 23, 2008

Reason # 488 Why I 'Heart' My Aunt Rosie

I received the following e-mail from my Aunt. She ain't right...

I saw a billboard sign that read:


Out of curiosity, I did. A Mexican showed up with a lawnmower.

Tuesday, January 22, 2008

Oh Goody! Another Colossal Waste of Money!

Swedish study to measure methane released by belching cows
The Associated PressJan. 21, 2008 12:21 PM

STOCKHOLM, Sweden - A Swedish university has received $590,000 in research funds to measure the greenhouse gases released when cows belch. (WTF!? I just got a picture in my head of those California cheese cows just letting one rip.)

About 20 cows will participate in the project (how exactly does a cow sign up to participate in a study??) run by the Swedish University for Agricultural Sciences in Uppsala, about 40 miles north of Stockholm, officials said Monday.

Cattle release methane, a greenhouse gas believed to contribute to global warming, when they digest their food (just like the rest of us mammals ~ it ain’t no secret. That'll be $590,000.).

Researchers believe the level of methane released depends on the type of food they eat (so what? They produce more gas if they eat Mexican?).

Project leader Jan Bertilsson said that the cows involved in the study will have different diets and wear a collar device measuring the methane level in the air around them. (will some be on the South Beach Diet, some on the Body for Life diet?)

He said 95 percent of the methane released by cows comes out through the mouth. (so, they already know how much methane cows produce when they belch, but they’re going to spend over a half million dollars to study it anyway?)

"This type of research is already being conducted in Canada so we will be in contact with Canadian agricultural researchers in the near future," he said. (ok, wait. It’s already being researched in another country? What are these fools hoping to find out? That Sweedish cows produce more methane than Canadian ones? Is it because of all the Swiss cheese? )

The research will be funded by a grant from the government's Swedish Research Council for Environment, Agricultural Sciences and Spatial Planning. (like their cheese, the logic behind approving this study has holes all through it).

Wednesday, January 9, 2008

I Love This Woman!

Mom sells rule-breaking son's car
Wed Jan 9, 1:18 AM ET

Jane Hambleton has dubbed herself the "meanest mom on the planet."

After finding alcohol in her son's car, she decided to sell the car and share her 19-year-old's misdeed with everyone — by placing an ad in the local newspaper.

The ad reads: "OLDS 1999 Intrigue. Totally uncool parents who obviously don't love teenage son, selling his car. Only driven for three weeks before snoopy mom who needs to get a life found booze under front seat. $3,700/offer. Call meanest mom on the planet."

Hambleton has heard from people besides interested buyers since recently placing the ad in The Des Moines Register.

The 48-year-old from Fort Dodge says she has fielded more than 70 telephone calls from emergency room technicians, nurses, school counselors and even a Georgia man who wanted to congratulate her.

"The ad cost a fortune, but you know what? I'm telling people what happened here," Hambleton says. "I'm not just gonna put the car for resale when there's nothing wrong with it, except the driver made a dumb decision.

"It's overwhelming the number of calls I've gotten from people saying 'Thank you, it's nice to see a responsible parent.' So far there are no calls from anyone saying, 'You're really strict. You're real overboard, lady.'"

The only critic is her son, who Hambleton says is "very, very unhappy" with the ad and claims the alcohol was left by a passenger.

Hambleton believes her son but has decided mercy isn't the best policy in this case. She says she set two rules when she bought the car at Thanksgiving: No booze, and always keep it locked.
The car has been sold, but Hambleton says she will continue the ad for another week — just for the feedback.

I only have two words to say about this: Fucking Fabulous!

Crack is Whack!

Pair wheel corpse to store to cash check
By MARCUS FRANKLIN, Associated Press WriterTue Jan 8, 10:18 PM ET

Two men wheeled a dead man through the streets in an office chair to a check-cashing store and tried to cash his Social Security check before being arrested on fraud charges, police said (Oh, holy hell). David J. Dalaia and James O'Hare pushed Virgilio Cintron's body from the Manhattan apartment that O'Hare and Cintron shared to Pay-O-Matic, about a block away, spokesman Paul Browne said witnesses told police.

"The witnesses saw the two pushing the chair with Cintron flopping from side to side and the two individuals propping him up and keeping him from flopping from side to side," Browne said (Did these fools just get done watching 'Weekend at Bernies'? These two need to lay off the pipe). The men left Cintron's body outside the store, went inside and tried to cash his $355 check, Browne said. The store's clerk, who knew Cintron, asked the men where he was, and O'Hare told the clerk they would go and get him (So he could do what? Vouch that he needed $355 for the trip to Heaven?), Browne said.

A police detective who was having lunch at a restaurant next to the check-cashing store noticed a crowd forming around Cintron's body, and "it's immediately apparent to him that Cintron is dead," Browne said.

The detective called uniformed New York Police Department officers at a nearby precinct. Emergency medical technicians arrived as O'Hare and Dalaia were preparing to wheel Cintron's body into the check-cashing store (These idiots probably had this poor dead man all rigged up so he could "sign" the check. Great - now all I can picture are the zombies from "Thriller". "You feel a cold hand..."), Browne said. Police arrested Dalaia and O'Hare there, he said.

Cintron's body was taken to a hospital morgue. The medical examiner's office told police it appeared Cintron, 66, had died of natural causes within the previous 24 hours, Browne said.
"He was deceased in the apartment when he was removed by these two," Browne said.
Dalaia and O'Hare, both 65, were being held by police and faced check fraud charges (that's it? No gross misconduct with a corpse or anything?), Browne said.

A call to a telephone number listed for Cintron at the apartment he shared with O'Hare went unanswered Tuesday evening. Police said they didn't have an address for Dalaia or attorney information for him or O'Hare.

Thursday, January 3, 2008

2007 Post of the Year

With over 300 hits on my blog, this post was by far the most viewed in 2007. As of today, I still do not know the answers to y'alls burning questions ~ nor would I spill if I did. As far as toenail polish goes, my personal favorite is OPI's The Thrill of Brazil.

Tuesday, January 1, 2008

Handbasket to Hell Departing from Gate 1

I know I shouldn't laugh at this....but's funny!

Buffalo bucks off man, mauls him
Brent WhitingThe Arizona RepublicJan. 1, 2008 08:53 AM

An elderly Cave Creek man has been mauled by a buffalo (I thought only animals with claws could maul things? Wouldn't a buffalo gore or trample? Maybe this was a special breed of buffalo) that he had saddled and was attempting to ride (where would you even buy a saddle big enough to fit a buffalo?), authorities said Tuesday. The 75-year-old victim, who name was not immediately released (I'm sure his family is greatful for this), was airlifted to Scottsdale Healthcare Osborn for treatment of injuries that were not considered life-threatening (someone is going to have to explain to me why he was airlifted to a hospital for non-life threatening injuries. Were the EMT's laughing too hard to render aid?), said John Kraetz, a district chief for Rural/Metro Fire Department. "He saddled up, got bucked off and was mauled," (I've done some stupid stuff on New Year's Eve, but putting a saddle on livestock and trying to ride it was never one of them. Visons of my ex-husband do come to mind, though.) Kraetz said.

The incident occurred about 5 p.m. Monday at a ranch near Spur Cross and Yucca roads, northwest of Cave Creek and School House roads, Kraetz said. The man owns two buffalos that were kept on the property (who did this fool think he was? Wild Bill Hickock?), he said. It was not immediately clear whether the beasts or injured man have any connection to T.C. Thorstenson, a Cave Creek buffalo wrangler. When reached by phone, Thorstenson repeatedly declined to discuss the mauling. (They were a special breed of buffalo! Deadly Ninja Attack Buffalo of the Damned!).

Please don't get me wrong. I'm sorry this man was injured. But I'm just wondering....what prompted the desire to saddle and ride a buffalo? Don't they have a slanted back? Wouldn't you just slide right off like butter on a hot biscuit?

Once, while visiting my family in Montana (I think I was 10 at the time), we went to dinner one evening to a restaurant that happened to be located on a buffalo ranch. My cousin Kim and I were happily skipping along a little trail that was next to a chain link fence that separated us from the buffalo. Let me repeat that...a chain link fence separated us from certain death. Kim and I were just skipping and my cousin pointed at a baby buffalo that had strayed from its momma. Well Momma Buffalo saw this and was none to happy with me or my wayward cousin Kim. She charged the damn fence! I have never run so fast in my life. I was like a cartoon. My legs were a windmill of motion and there was a cloud of dust behind me.

So, kids...the moral of this story is...even though buffalo is the leanest of all red meats, I just don't think you should saddle one and try to ride it. Or point at the baby ones for that matter.