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Showing posts from May, 2008

When Starlets Speak

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There are some people who are just so stupid that they should really try not to speak in public. They might mean well but you really never know what might pop out of their tiny little mouths. As my example I give you...Sharon Stone.



Before I get started, I have a few comments on the above picture. First of all, where are you going, Rambo?? Secondly, Jesus. Nice rack. What is she, 60?? Lastly, where is her obligatory-I'm-a-starlet red Kabullah string? She's probably wearing it for underwear, that saucy little minx.

On with the post....

You might remember Sharon from the Camel Toe Hall of Fame here. But today I'm talking about how she suggested that the earthquake in China was karma biting the ass of the Chinese people due to the country's treatment of tibet. REALLY????! With 60,000 dead and about that many missing and presumed dead that's a lot of fucking karma. I read that there are approximately 14 million people who are now homeless due to the quakes. I say approxim…

A future in funerals

Excuse my absence, friends. I've been out of town at an unexpected funeral.

Pretty much the only funny thing that happened to me this whole week was at the funeral home. My kids were there, aged 2, 7 and 8. They were playing outside and my oldest found a dead bird. She came running into the building, breathlessly describing it. I told her that maybe she should go bury it. She left me presumably to do that just.

A few minutes later the undertaker approached me and informed me that he had assisted Thing One in this endeavor. He said that she was really sweet (he's totally right about that). He also mentioned that she has a beautiful future in the undertaking business. I'm pretty sure that the horror splashed across my face summed up two things:

1. Although I have respect for this guy I sincerely hope that my kid doesn't choose the undertaking arts for a career. (Please, please, please.)
2. I also wondered how much a bird funeral would add to the impressive bill of the human …

Is that a Batter Blaster in your pants or are you just happy to see me??

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All right, ya'll. Hang onto your hats. Today we're going to delve into Product Development and Analysis. It's gonna be super awesome. And, go....

So there I was, cruising through Costco looking for ginormous containers of food for my family. I was near the dairy section when something new caught my eye. Without further ado, here is the product:



Apparently it is AMAZING! In case you can't see the image well it is, in essence, pancake and waffle mix in a pressurized can. Oh! And it's organic! Because everyone knows that parents who are willing to feed their kid breakfast from a pressurized can (with some syrup on it) really give a shit about the product being organic. Is it me or is this kind of like making organic Twinkies??

So it occurred to me that I should make sure that there aren't organic Twinkies available if I was going to make sarcastic comments about them. I've just been to google and as a result I am now aware that there is something called "The…

Just When You Thought It Was Safe To Go Back In The Water!!!

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I saw the movie Jaws at an impressionable age. Living near the coast in South Florida I had daily opportunities to go to the beach. But I never wanted to go into the water because any time ANYTHING even so much as TOUCHED me (sea weed, coral, a friend) I freaked out - convinced that a shark was going to eat me.

In fact, to get me out of water all you have to do is one of two things. The first is to look over my shoulder in surprise or horror. The second way is to hum the Jaws theme song. Da duh. Da duh. Daduh daduh DADUH DADUH!!! I could walk on water when I hear that. And this doesn't remain isolated with the beach. These two methods have worked in pools and even in the bathtub.

The only thing that ever "bit" me in the ocean was a jellyfish. Now don't get me wrong, it hurt like a MUTHA but there was little doubt as to whether I would survive it or not. I love going to the beach for vacation but I still to this day remain vigilant at the ocean...

A couple of years ago m…

I'm not a Gynecologist (but I'll take a look)

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I have a funny gynecologist. This wasn't necessarily an attribute I was initially looking for but, now that I've had time to reflect on it, if you are going to be between my legs doing things that don't feel good then you need to be at least funny.

I had my dreaded annual exam this morning. This is something that I loathe and just seeing the metal clamps makes me cringe. And when I cringe, my muscles constrict. And when my muscles constrict it is extremely difficult to put the clamps ANYWHERE. I think I should probably give up my kegel exercises. Ahem. So basically what I'm telling you is that my doctor had to fight for entry. And I was busy negotiating with my knees as they were involuntarily snapping shut, therefore making his job even more difficult. It was a busy morning for all involved.

At any rate, when he was done with his "business" he tugged on the clamp and it didn't budge. He put his hand on the sheet (so he could see my face) and said, "H…

The Less Than Gifted

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Oh how the times are a-changing. I just waited in line for 20 minutes at Costco for the privilege of paying $87 to fill up my car with gas. I actually, in a weird way, don't mind paying a lot for gas. I think it should cost a lot so that we use less of it. Maybe. Although just a couple of years ago it cost me $25 to fill up. It's a huge difference that definitely makes an impression on our family budget. Jesus. Listen to me talking about the price of gas. The next thing you know I'll be telling you my memories of Grover Cleveland as our President. Anyway, the thing that pissed me off was the lady in front of me.

She was middle aged and was driving a small pickup truck. Yet it appeared that this was her first time - ever - pumping gas. It was all a complete mystery to her. She studied the screen carefully with her wallet in hand. Reading. Every. Word. Why is it that I always get behind these people? Like at the bank. Every time I need cash I seem to get behind someone who is…

Do you have a hotdog or a hamburger in there???

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In my professional opinion about 1% of the general public are androgynous. This is a really polite way of saying I don't know if they typically urinate from an upright or seated position. When I encounter someone like this I find myself staring. Are those breasts or simply man-maries? Is that your wedding tackle in your pants or a well placed item in your pocket? Either way, I hope that you're happy to see me....
I saw someone yesterday who could have easily convinced me that s/he was either a man or a woman. I just had no idea. So I found myself staring. I become so engrossed that I think my mouth opened a little bit and just kind of hung there. (Now you know yet another ugly truth about me. When I think hard I become a mouth breather. Tres sexy, non?) Anyhoo, after a while I realized that s/he saw me staring and was openly staring right back at me. I wonder if s/he knew why I was checking him/her out. Ok. Let's call her/him Pat so that I don't have to keep worrying ab…

Maybe Next Month It'll Be Playboy...

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OK. I swear that I am not unnaturally fixated on Miley Cyrus. I like one of her songs, my daughters are big fans, but that's about it. So when the big broohaha started about her Vanity Fair pictures I thought, "Meh...who gives a shit."



The above picture is in Vanity Fair this month. Do I think it is a strange portrait of a father and daughter? Pretty much. Would I want my 15 year old daughter topless on the cover of a magazine? Um, no. But I didn't boycott her music or tell my kids they couldn't watch the show anymore. I guess Miley's "people" are grooming her for more adult things in the future. It is, afterall, a business and it sounds as if she might be their cornerstone product. (Although I would have thought that, at some point, she might have said, "Gee, Daddy? Do you think you could get your hand off my ass?!" Typical kids at this age insist that their parents drop them off at the mall from a block away so that their friends don'…

Yoo hoo...

I have a mechanism on my blog that allows me to see where you are coming from. More specifically I can see where your Internet Service Provider is located. Now don't freak out - I can't see your names or that you aren't wearing any pants or stuff like that. But I can see that, if you use a search engine, what search terms you used to find me. I guess Important Blogs that actually make money and are famous and stuff use it to help guide their topics du jour (rather than throwing shit at the wall to see what sticks like I do). Anyhoo, I was perusing my sitemeter and looking to see who my recent visitors were, etc.

Just a few minutes ago somebody googled "dudes naked blogs" and they were somehow directed to me. More specifically they were directed to this page on my blog. Incidentally this happens to be one of my very most favorite blog entries. At any rate, if you're still on, HELLO! Please put your pants back on. I wish that I had some sort of questionnaire to …

Nice Headlights!

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I have some very exciting news. The Blog of Bex has received - for the very first time - a topic request for a new blog entry!



What is the topic request, you might ask? It was to be about headlights. I'll be honest...I don't know much about them. In fact, I hate it when I have a burnt out bulb in the car. Changing a bulb at home is easy. It's changing them in the car that is the challenge. Honestly, the problem is that I can't see where they go! The light itself doesn't unscrew, therefore it's an impossible task for me. Am I totally retarded on this? (Wait...don't answer that.)

As far as the "other" headlights go, all I know is that when it happens to me I feel VERY self conscious. I don't know if it's better to ignore the fact that my nipples are ready to rip through my t-shirt or to cross my arms a little bit high to block the spectacle from others.



So there you go, Diesel. It wasn't my best effort (or even my breast answer - ba dum CHA…