Dun dun DUNNNN.

The cloning project, it worked.

1. Hell yes fainting goats.

2. Oh Biff. I still have a crush on him. But I always like the jerks.

3. Walkin’ on water. This is a fun thing to do with the kids.

4a. Chicago Acapella. The last ten seconds.

4b. John Wayne Gacy, betuz I felt like it.

5a. Bitches Ain’t Shit.

5b. Ben Folds.

6. You like that? You like that? You want some more? Fucking furries.

7. Buffalos vs. lions.

1. You, the undersigned, are condemned to see every movie that Zach Braff will ever make, up to and including his cameo as Sprongler’s Dad in the 2020 remake of American Pie.

2. Every time you see an attractive man or woman, be they at a party or on the bus, you will be compelled to pull out your cell phone and frantically sniff it all over, as if it was the most delicious thing you have ever smelled, such as a succulent pastry, a baby’s head, or a fat stack of Abraham Lincolns. We’ll leave that one up to personal preference and heredity. If you do not own a cell phone, or are not carrying it on your person, a giant sparkle dildo will appear in your purse or hand immediately. (Hint: carry bail money.)

3. The cutest pants EVAH will totally never be in your size, anywhere. Except for palazzo pants. I condemn you to palazzo pants!

4. You are condemned to non-cancerous facial moles that spell things out like “Spork Lover” and “Put Peen Here.” The moles will change arrangement unpredictably, and you will never be able to make money off of this unexplainable phenomenon.

5. You now fart Phad Thai in public and glitter at home. Sure, you could stay home, but have you ever tried to completely get rid of glitter? Good luck with that one.

Please, please, please don’t tell me this style is going to continue. At least, not without ruffles on the butt a la a three-year-old.

Seriously, what happened here? Did someone lock Britney in a room with a mountain of cocaine and a Wii and told her not to come out until it’s all gone? Hmm, I think I just thought of a new “diet plan.” I’ll make millyuns.

Head cold subsiding…more later.

YOU GUYS! Christina Anklara has been made into a wax figure at Madame Tussaud’s.

Continue reading →

So, the auction catalogue I’ve been working on was supposed to go to press today. HA HA HA HA. No.

My name was put on it as co-chair, which I don’t know if I’m comfortable with, but it’s moving forward. I am really undecided. I just am too tired to think about. So I got the letter, and it was signed by me, so I threw it in the catalogue. Eh.

It turns out about twelve more people need to proofread it. That’s cool, I’m all for the proofreading. I make some really egregious errors sometimes. I misspelled the name of the school in the footer, for instance. I wish I would have known that all these people needed to look at it, because then I would have done things differently. And the live auction section needs to be reordered, because the auctioneer hasn’t seen it yet.

Again, this really isn’t anyone’s fault. It’s my first year, so I didn’t know the process, and it doesn’t seem to occur to anyone to tell me what the process is in a cohesive fashion, so…yeah. I wish there was someone to blame for what a clusterfuck this has been. I could blame the twelvedy parents who were actually qualified to run the auction, or at least help out, but they know it’s a clusterfuck, so then there’s not enough people…. Well, you see where this is going.

I guess I will have to just blame Bam Margarita, and Internet Goombas for blocking the tubes.

My tiny feral dwarf (who is probably naked as well) it upstairs hooting in her bad, when she should be napping right now. I get so mad at them when they do this. Friday is the day you want things to be pleasant, and we even have dinner plans, so she’s sure to be a wretch around 5:30.

AHA! I was right. I went upstairs to check on her and her hands and sides were covered with poo. Just fucking leave it in your diaper, kid. I hope she’ll sleep now that she’s changed, but I’m not holding my breath.

ALSO…I am looking for a local salon that will do my roots well and not be big bitches about it. I gave up on Scream because they missed the front of my hairline. I just called Lucky Number Seven in Wallingford and they were giving me one word snotty answers. Rudy’s is nice, but they have that ridiculous waiting list. Any ideas? And what’s up with salons not letting you bring your own semi-permenent hairdye? Rudy’s used to allow that ten years ago. I’d even be willing to pay a corkage fee. I’m genuinely curious about that. Lucky Number Seven just sniffed that “We only use professional stuff.” Well, I guess I’ll just leave the stuff I stirred up in my laundry sink at home, then.

Advice? Thots? Is it a liability thing? A moneymaking thing? I want to know. Also, a salon. Thanks.

For those not in the know, it’s a Britney/Amy Winehouse mashup. YESSSSS! Someone got chocolate in my MF peanut butter!

Thanks to Halo and Cass, the raddest academic librarians who ever radded, for sending.

And PS, Your favor emails are rolling in. I am getting them! I will begin replying to you soon. Sorry to leave a bulletin like a lamer, but it’s gonna be a crazy weekend. Mama still wuvs you.

Can I say this is hot? Dykey Spears, you’re my cup of sassafras. Call me when you want to go shopping for Danskos.

For those of you who are nostalgic for a more Squeaky Frommed version of Ms. Spears, I suggest you check out her new message maker. If you fool with it a couple of times, I guarantee you will come up with some sad mispronunciations. Stay in school, kids!

Go Fug Yourself meets Craigslist. These ladies (and the token guy) are REVIEWING peen pics found on the Wide Web of the World.

At first I was all OH HELL NAW that’s so funny. But then I started thinking about how I would feel if it was a passel of mens going “Look, I think her nipple just winked at me!” I think I would be okay with that. But I bet a lot of people might feel uncomfortable. This is all hypothetical, because I don’t know of a site where a group of men make fun of women’s naked bodies.

What do you think? Could this site go both ways? Would you be cool with that? Are you cool with either flavor, the existing peentown or the hypothetical winking boobs? I’m just curious.

Either way, I think this site is gonna blow up.

So, in very important news, it seems that the singer Keith “Drinky” Urban is suing the more obscure oil painter, Keith Urban. The lesser-known Urban‘s crime? Owning Keithurban.com. Drinky Urban just wants the dot-com, because he just has sad little dot-net.

Don’t like that there is more than one Keith Urban on the planet, Drinky? Are you afraid someone will renounce your Devil Music and become an aficionado of oil paintings? HMM? Then change your name. I suggest Mandelbrott Buttslapper. It will be great publicity and you won’t have to share a name with anyone.

I have worked up a new image for your splash page, which you may have, gratis!

Plus we will get to refer to your wife as “Mrs. Buttslapper,” and LO, that will own.

That’s right. I called you Mrs. Buttslapper.