The Blog of Bex

What the...I was perusing CNN.com a few minutes ago and found the following story: A newborn baby girl fell through the toilet in a moving train and onto the tracks moments after her mother prematurely gave birth, surviving nearly two hours before being found, relatives said Thursday. The child's mother, who uses the single name Bhuri, was traveling with relatives on an overnight train when she went to the bathroom shortly before midnight Tuesday and unexpectedly gave birth to a baby girl, said Arjun Kumar, her brother-in-law. "Later, she fell unconscious and the baby fell through the toilet," he continued. "Two stations later, we knocked at the door." SERIOUSLY??? OK. First of all, remind me to NEVER go walking on a train track in India. That's just so gross. What, is there just a brown mound between the tracks in the heavily traveled areas or WHAT? Second of all, Bhuri doesn't seem like she really has her shit to...

You know those kind of posts where Mommy's put up the adorably insightful quotes of their brilliant and beautiful children? This isn't really one of those. Here are my two quotes of the week: 8 year old daughter, "Mommy? A boy on the bus called me a funny name today and I looked it up in the dictionary but it wasn't there. What does 'Biotch' mean?" 6 year old daughter, "Mommy? Why do some of the ladies in your music call their booty a 'Money Maker'?" So now I have a compulsion to get on the bus this afternoon and kick the ass of an 8 year old boy who probably doesn't know what a biotch is either. But trust me, he will when I get done with him. As for the money maker question, I just changed the subject because I didn't know how to answer her. I am sure, however, that the subject will return. Any suggestions on how to answer that without using the following industry buzz words? shake what cha momma gave ya working the pole Pimps ...

I am really good at a few things. I cook well (when inspired - but my meatloaf is consistently off the chain [Mom, if you are reading that means that it's good]) and I know how to play The Entertainer on the piano. But I think what I'm best at is, quite possibly, wasting time. When faced with something that needs to be done I know how to quickly procrastinate in at least 100 different ways. I am, in fact, doing it RIGHT NOW. Yes, it may be hard to believe but writing to you about how lazy I am is not the most important thing I need to do today. I will not let that stop me, however, from delivering my message to you: Brad Pitt is kind of an ass. Now don't get me wrong, I think he's a fine actor and humanitarian (stifling. yawn). But what the hell is his deal with matching his hair to his women? Have you ever noticed this? Here he is when he was dating Gwenyth Paltrow: The color clearly came from the same source and the styles are very similar EXCEPT their parts were on o...

When I was a kid I used to make the occasional prank call. But then I turned 13 and decided that it was a fairly retarded way to spend ones time. I've also received a few "heavy breathing" calls in my day. My mom finally bought us a whistle and said that whenever "he" called that we were to blow the whistle as loud as we could into the phone. That worked although I do wish she had specified that before blowing the whistle I should take the receiver away from my head as my ear made this weird ringing noise for days afterward. But it got rid of the pervert. It's a new day, however, and perverts must be looking for new ways to annoy us. Twice today someone has texted a picture to me. I have no idea who he is or what the hell he wants. But he must think that I don't know that sometimes shirtless men squeeze their arms against their chest to give the appearance that they actually have biceps when, in fact, their arms really look like toothpicks that are broke...

The other day I had an amazing piece of cheese. It was so yummy and it got me to thinking about where it came from. What do I know about it? Well, it was produced using cows milk. This started me thinking about all of the things I consume that use cows milk: cream, cheese, yogurt, etc... Pretty much every meal in this house has cows milk representin'. Who do you suppose was the first guy to milk a cow for a purpose other than feeding a calf? Well, I've been thinking about that, too. Here is how I imagine that conversation went down: Cow Milk Visionary (CMV): "Wife, I've been thinking. You know that nursing cow we have? Why don't we go out there and see if we can express some of her milk into a bucket. Then we'll drink it! It'll be, like, totally awesome!" Wife: "You are one sick fuck." CMV: "Come on...we'll start this amazing thing - trust me! Everyone will be nursing on their cows once they see how great it is! And then they'll ...

What the hell?! For months and months Congress has been interrogating professional baseball players on illegal drug use in the sport. Perhaps Congress is unaware that their current President of the United States has done illegal drugs?? And I suppose they are further uninformed that the previous President of this great country also dabbled in street drugs. Even the people running for the job of President have done drugs. It's practically in the contract that you must have, at some point, done drugs to be the President of the USA. Yet Congress is parading professional ball players - people who are, essentially, entertainers - through the United States Congress DEMANDING answers. Is there anyone out there who really gives a shit?? Besides, at least the baseball players were using drugs to beef up and to be better at their game. Our Presidents were just getting HIGH. Now keep in mind, I'm not judging anyone for drug use. I'm judging Congress to be a bunch of no-talent ass clo...

Well, I have good news and bad news. The good news is that I have a leather sofa. The bad news is that my dog, Honey, just puked on it. First of all, she isn't even allowed on the furniture (a rule invented to avoid just exactly this kind of catastrophe). Second of all, she puked between the seats instead of on a cushion like a good girl. So of course this means that the day that I clean out under the sofa cushions is, in fact, today (instead of "one of these days"). It was yellow and foamy with speckles in a variety of sizes and colors. I found myself talking to her as I was cleaning, "Really? Honey? You threw up, huh? Gee...that's too bad. What do you suppose caused this? Could it have been when you ate the fecal matter of another dog in our front yard this morning? Do you remember that I told you specifically NOT to eat that? Or maybe it was the Barbie doll you harfed down last night as my six year old daughter chased you, screaming and crying. OH! I know...it...

There is a saying I have always loved: "Work as if you have no money. Love as if you have never been hurt. Dance like no one is watching. Sing like no one is listening. And live everyday as if it were your last." I have always thought that it is a wonderful way to live your life. But today I found an exception to one of them. To the blond skinny chick in my aerobics class: Do NOT dance like no one is watching. Because we are. And you look like a dork. In class I'm a back row kind of gal. Back row, center if I get there on time. That way I can see what's going on and I don't get paranoid that the person behind me is staring at my ass, wondering just how many jelly donuts I had for breakfast. But this blond chick marched right in and stood next to the instructor, about two feet away. That's pretty close in the aerobics world. Every single other person in the room was a deferring 5 feet behind the teacher. But not blondy! Oh, no! She was right there in the action...

Take a walk with me, please. I have a topic I'd like to discuss. It involves nudity, Germans and an airplane. So if you don't want to "go there" by all means, go visit someone else's blog immediately. Ok...here is the deal. There is an airline in Germany that is offering nudist flights. Now, before you start averting your eyes at the airport be assured that these folks must enter and leave the plane fully clothed. But I have a few comments about this and, without further ado, here they are, in no particular order: Are the seats in this plane, perchance, disposable? I have the very dubious honor of being the person in our home who cleans the laundry. In this laundry pile that I SUFFER through weekly there are at least 30 pair of underwear. The underwear has been worn, at the most, for 14 hours by people I love dearly. But let's just say that things happen in underwear. Dirty things. Colorful things. Smelly things. Things that I wouldn't want my bare ass (an...