Mani and Pedi

If you have ever been to a nail salon then you need to watch this. The first 60 seconds are slow but the rest is seriously worth it. Seriously. Then come back and tell me how you liked it.



My nail salon is similar except here is what happens to me:

Pretty Asian Lady - Do you like your nails?

Me - Yes, thank you!

PAL - Do you want a massage?

Me - Ummm, sure. Maybe 5 minutes?

PAL - 10 minute better.

Me - Ummm...ok, sure.

PAL - You want eyebrow wax?

Me - OK. Thanks.

PAL - What about your lip?

Me - Excuse me?

PAL - You want your lip wax?

Me - (awkward pause as I contemplate a service I've never used or thought I needed) Umm...no thanks.

PAL - Are you sure? You have a lot of hair there....


This is why I now spend hours each day inspecting my lip. In case you were wondering.

Anjelah Johnson (comedian in the video) is funny. So is humor-blogs.com. Check it out!!

Loosen Up My Buttons, Baby

Whenever I buy a new article of clothing it invariably comes with an envelope labeled "EXTRA BUTTONS". I've recently realized that I'm not even sure if that's what is really in there as I've never - EVER - opened any of the packages. I just assume that the contents are matching buttons and one day a button might fall off of my clothes and I'll want one that matches to replace it.

So I put - with extreme diligence - the envelopes in a drawer in my bedroom. I can no longer completely open this drawer. Whenever we move I carefully box them up and then find a good, prominent spot to put my matching buttons in the new house.

The irony is that I have several articles of clothing in my closet RIGHT NOW that are missing buttons. And I'll bet that I have one to replace it somewhere. But looking through 300 envelopes to find one to replace a missing button on a twenty dollar shirt isn't high on my priority list.

I wonder at what point I will give up my button collection habit.

Throwing them away seems such a wasteful folly. And keeping them is a pain in the ass and a waste of time and space.

It really cracks me up when they attach extra yarn. What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?! Is there anyone who actually keeps the string and then re-knits something they bought in a store?? I'm not even sure when it would be appropriate to use it.

If the clothing companies really wanted to be helpful they would sew buttons on with more than three laps of their cheap thread. If they put the buttons on more carefully then they wouldn't have to send extras and I would have an entire drawer in my house to fill with something really important. Like safety pins from the dry cleaner. Or lipsticks I've been given from Clinique and Lancome that I never use but can't seem to throw away because maybe next year is the year when I'll want to have something called Paradise Pink painted on my mouth.

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Plunging through the day

Happy Thursday, humor seekers. You should push on to your next destination. Here is all I have for today:

I need a plunger.
I do not own a plunger.
I believe (but do not know for sure) that it is socially unacceptable to ask to borrow someone else's plunger.
Therefore, later today, I will take three grumpy children to purchase said plunger.
I do not know where one could procure such an item.

I'm on target to have a bullshit day. Well, it won't be bullshit but it'll be something.

If you talk to anyone over there at humor-blogs do me a favor and ask them if they have a plunger I can use.

American Sports Bra, Saves the Day!!!

You know what takes balls? Being a 24 year old American woman who gets a wild hair and decides to go hiking in the Bavarian Alps all by herself.

What's that you say? You are having trouble picturing the Alps?? Well, take a gander.

Pretty fucking big, eh? I don't even like to walk around my block by myself after dark. I cannot imagine thinking that this hike would be a good idea. I don't even see a spa anywhere. WTF was she thinking?!

Anyway, you know what sucks? Being the aforementioned chick who fell off of a small cliff in the Bavarian Alps and was trapped on the ledge with her injuries from the fall for a few days with no way down other than a fall that would surely cause her death.

And you know what takes brains? Using her sports bra as a method of attracting attention to get rescued.

Some guy was walking around in the Alps, probably yodeling or something, when suddenly he sees a sports bra dangling from a rope. "Hmmmm...." he thinks to himself. "There is probably some hot fraulein up there just waiting to take a bite of my apple! She is probably a very enlightened lassy who has a thing for beer bellys and knows that there ain't no party like a yodelers party. I think I'll scurry up this treacherous mountain and check her out!" And he runs off singing, "Yodelay ee heee...."

And when he gets there he finds some banged up American in need of airlifting to a hospital. Bummer. But, she's healing up and survived something that would have killed me about 45 seconds after it happened. Right after I realized that there wasn't a flushing toilet within my reach.

So let's give a big old Bavarian toast to Lorenz Rasp for having balls and brains (a rare combination these days). You go, girl!

Link to humor-blogs.com

My favorite George Carlin bit

Ahh, shit. George Carlin died. I don't normally jump on bandwagons but I'd like to pay tribute and share my favorite bit from him. He nailed it and it still - no matter how many times I see it - makes me laugh out loud.


I love how he speaks the truth, regardless of how unlikeable it could/would/should make him. I imagine that he started off most thought processes with, "Fuck it..."

He was my kind of guy.

Link to humor-blogs.com

The Wild and Wonderful World of Animal Butts

Hello, Boys. How're they hangin'??

Several years ago my dad and I were hiking in California. It was a beautiful afternoon and we were on a mountain trail. We came upon some kind of farm that had a fence around it. Suddenly I saw it - a pig lying down with his "sac" squeezed out behind him. It looked as though someone had stuffed two basketballs under his skin. My first thought was, "Holy crap, pigs can get elephantitis??!" This was quickly followed by thought number two which was, "I would give anything to be sharing this experience with anyone but my father."

So I did what anyone could do in such a situation. I took a picture of the pig balls. I decided that I would put it on the cover of my Christmas cards that year and when the card was opened it would say, "Deck the halls...." I haven't done it yet but I will...yes, I will.



You may be wondering why I brought this up. It has to do with baboons and Darwin. At the risk of dramatically increasing the number of hits I get from people who are "into" animals I have to admit that I found myself wondering today why baboon butts look the way that they do. There must be a biological reason for this red-assed phenomenon.




Does it have to do with mating? Are the redder assed baboons considered hotter to their peers? And do other animals think that it's as hilarious as I do to have such a ridiculous bottom?? (I'll bet the monkey's snicker.) Did Darwin ever see one of these? Bright red, shaped like a heart, and hairless while the rest of the animal looks like a shag rug from the 70's. Seriously. What the hell?!

All I know is if I had an ass like that I would never stand. I'd pretend like I couldn't walk or something. Because you just know that people would ask you for something just so that they could watch you get up and cross the room. Perverts.


Humor-blogs.com

The Results Are In!

What the hell happened to YOU?!

How did my handsome husband receive a black eye and four stitches on Father's Day??? The majority of you (in this poll) incorrectly guessed that my two year old had head-butted him. Although the baby regularly butts stuff with his head (we're pretty sure this is a sign of his stellar intellect) this isn't what caused the injury.

Nope, he was, in fact, pistol whipped by a kid with a Super Soaker that looked a little bit like this:

I told him that he should make up a better story. Because what kind of man gets a shiner and stitches from a water gun?! My kind of man, I guess. The doctor who stitched him up said that he should avoid aspirin and alcohol for a few days. The husband nodded and then, when the doctor left the room he muttered, "Well, one out of two ain't bad." So he's given up aspirin for the week. My hero....

Tune in next week for when he gets his ass kicked by a bunny wielding a baton.

Link to humor-blogs.com

Black and white and read all over

There is a sign up all around my neighborhood that states something sad:

Missing
Black and white
"CAT"

And then it gives the number to call. I've been thinking about calling the number just to complain about the sign. It really bugs the hell out of me. It's not that I'm not sympathetic about losing a pet. It's that I'm not even sure if they did lose a pet. Maybe they lost a lady named Catherine who goes by CAT in all caps and quotes. I guess she'd have the bride of Frankenstein hair like this:

Or maybe they have a caterpillar farm and they are missing their prized black and white monarch caterpillar. Most likely they couldn't remember how to spell caterpillar so they decided to abbreviate it in a maddeningly vague way.

I guess it could also be a black and white cat that goes by the name "CAT"and they wanted to conserve their sharpie and therefore didn't feel like specifying on the sign. Meh. Whatever. I hope they find what they are seeking.

In other news I'll be announcing who or what gave my husband a black eye and 4 stitches tomorrow. Don't forget to vote!

Link to humor-blogs.com

Everybody was Kung Fu Fighting...

Look what happened to my husband on Father's Day:



No, he's not a cross-dressing, makeup wearing guy (not that there is anything wrong with that). This, my friends, is your basic orbital blowout. The band-aid is covering his four stitches. Did you hear that? No??? Allow me to repeat myself - he required FOUR freaking stitches on his eye lid on Father's Day!!! Here's another shot:



That's dead sexy, eh? Let's take a poll and see if you can figure out what the hell happened.

Opinion Polls & Market Research

I know what you're thinking. It's a tough call. He should have zigged when he zagged is all I can tell you without compromising the integrity of my Super Awesome Internet Poll. It was a gusher, too. Good times.

Do me a favor? When you're done voting click on my humor-blogs link. Chances are that's where you came from anyway. And if you didn't come from there you should have. It's pretty funny...

Bex, OUT.

An Ode to My Baby Daddy

It's Father's Day. The kids are all a-twinkle with excitement. There is definitely magic in the air. Now you may be wondering what the big deal is. After all, I did all of the heavy lifting. Pregnant for 27 months, nursed for 17 months, and 8.5 years of love, nurturing and not committing a horrific act of homicidal, maternal rage (harder than it sounds).

All he had to do was do the hippity dippity with me and - BAM! Baby on the way. And for this "service" I'm supposed to get him a gift or a card every year?! Well, yeah. He totally deserves it. There is a saying that "If Mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy." He knows - in an instant - what I need and gets it for me. 9 times out of 10 it's a Cosmo.

But WAIT! There's more! He changes poopie diapers! He knows how to answer this question truthfully without making me want to cleave him: "Do these pants make my fat ass look fat?"And cleaving him has nothing to do with my ample cleavage, for the record.

He makes me feel safe and warm and loves and protects our kids. He also doesn't get pissed off when I serve the same dinner 4 nights in a row or if something mysterious is growing in our fridge. He makes me laugh until my stomach hurts and takes out the trash almost every week before the garbage man gets here. He gets up every morning and makes the coffee.

And in return for all of this effort all he asks of me is that one day a year he gets to sleep in late and eat a chocolate croissant for breakfast. Then he'll play tennis and hang out by the swimming pool sipping bloody mary's. And tonight I'll serve him a t-bone steak as big as his head and he'll be the happiest man on the planet.

Here's to you, Big Man! Thanks for the kids and the cosmos! Me love you LONG time.


feed: humor-blogs.com

Funky Question Du Jour

Why is it that the human male, who has relatively smooth skin on most of his body, has pachyderm skin on his balls? I really want to know. For those of the species who are still (or once again) wearing diapers the endless cracks become a poop hazard. If I don't keep a close eye on my two year old he's going to become known as 'Old Crusty Balls'.


In case you were wondering, the picture above is a small piece of this one below. I'm not that twisted.

Pachyderm Parades Ongoing at humor-blogs.com

Cling on THIS.

My house has four bedrooms with three and half baths. We are in the process of finishing our basement which will add another bedroom and bath to our total. This is background information for the story that I'm getting ready to tell you (in case you wondering - you know you were).

ANYWAY. Two months ago I scrubbed the master toilet and was opening a package of Lysol Cling to keep our pot smelling good (or at least, not bad). I flushed the toilet and pulled the Cling package open just in time for the plastic round thing to fall into the toilet and get sucked down the tube.

See that blue and white circle? It's design is PERFECT. Perfect to COMPLETELY cork up a fucking toilet. So I made sure that I had my protective Haz-Mat suit and gloves on and went sticking my arm down the toilet in search of the circle of stupidity. No luck so I decided to wait until my husband got home from work. Because everyone knows that husbands LOVE it when they come home from work and are immediately bombarded by a pissed off wife who accidentally clogged up the toilet with a cleaning product.

When I took him (dragged him) upstairs to look at the issue we noticed simultaneously that one of our kids had taken a stealth dump into the toilet bowl and left a mound of toilet paper. Based on knowledge I've already explained here I knew in an instant that Thing One had crapped in our clogged toilet. How fabulous.

My husband decided that we should wait until the plumber had to come and install our basement toilet before we get ours fixed. Because the guy would be here anyway, it'd be cheaper, yadda yadda yadda. So I've been sneaking into my kids toilet for my midnight toileting needs.

Last week my kids' toilet went on the fritz. So now there were four of us creeping around looking for a place to urinate in the middle of the night. The only other toilet upstairs is in our guest room which is currently housing two Russian women (a long story). That left the powder room downstairs. UNTIL my two year old was playing with the door and somehow managed to lock and close it, effectively locking us all out of the only other available can in the house. We were moments away from becoming our own version of the Lord of the Flies. Empty coffee cans were stared at with longing expressions. Nobody ate bran muffins anymore. We were each picking out our favorite bush and/or tree in the backyard. Mass pandemonium.

So I made an executive decision that I'm going to say FUCK IT and hire a plumber to come and heal my broken home. My hubs BFF is a builder and is the one who recommends most of the workers who come into our home so I called him up and gave him my mayday speech. He sent a guy over here today who fixed everything BUT our toilet. He said that the Lysol Circle of Death had hermetically sealed itself inside our pipe and that we had to buy a new toilet. All of this for a three dollar cleaning supply.

The plumber went to get a toilet and our builder friend called and started telling me that I should wait on ordering it and that I should get a really high quality can. He said that we can get one high off of the ground (we're both tall). He also suggested that my husband might appreciate something with some serious sucking power. Unless new fangled toilets provide services beyond the scope of their predecessors I think he's overestimated my husbands "needs".

I told him that my husband will just consider himself lucky that shitting in the backyard is no longer on the plate of possibilities and he'll take the shorter, less violent whoosh version that is available today. Not tomorrow, TODAY.

Let me flush you back to the Humor-Blogs home page...click HERE!!

Yoo hoo, Harvard! I see you....

Oh christ. I was just looking at my sitemeter counter thingy and noticed that someone from Harvard.edu spent 2 minutes and 55 seconds looking at my blog. Suddenly I feel very self-conscious. Kind of like I went to school without my pants on (again). Hello, Smarty Pants. How's it hangin'??

The day that I graduated from High School I was completely convinced that they would call every other name but mine. And after the ceremony I'd go up to the Head of School and be all, "DUDE! What's up?! You forgot to give me my diploma!" And then he'd be all, "No, actually, we didn't forget. You didn't graduate. The thing is, you are what is known in the Business as [air quotes] Not Too Bright. I have a brochure here for you to read called 'Realigning Your Expectations: The Dummy's Guide to Being a Dummy'. It's a good read and it has lots of pictures!"

And when I was in my early 20's my husband and I joined an intramural volleyball team that happened to be made up of medical students from Wake Forest (Bowman Gray). During practice they would be talking about the lipid they spliced that morning and hubs and I would be like, "Hey, look! That cloud looks like a bunny rabbit!" And then we'd pick our noses and/or butts and wait for the doctors to serve the ball. Good times.

But I did graduate from HS and went to college (actually a few colleges but I don't really want to talk about that). I'm even studying to take the GMAT so that I can get my MBA. My exam is slated for July 18, so wish me luck! The math is kicking my ass. But I get up every morning at 6 so I can study. And for a girl like me, that's a pretty big deal.

Alright, Harvard. You'd better get back to studying. Or grading. Or sweeping the floors. Or whatever it is you do there. I happen to be very busy. I have dishes to clean. I need a shower. Plus, I need to finally decide if we'll be having peas or carrots with dinner tomorrow. Maybe I'll shake things up a bit and serve peas and carrots! I just don't know....

Humor-blogs is full of smarties. (I got in on a loophole - Booyah!)

She's a Doctor, damnit!

My 8 year old daughter was doing her summer workbook yesterday and brought it to me claiming to have found an error in the book. I skeptically took the book from her and reviewed her exercise. She was to look at pictures and then specify if the word starts with an S, T, N or M.

Here is what her picture looked like:



So I naturally thought, "Oh, cripes. Looks like we're heading for the short bus." I asked her what the image was and she said, "Oh, she's a doctor. But there is no 'D' listed. There should be, right??"

I looked at her and said, "Yep. You've got them on this one!" I'm not sure why I lied to her, other than the fact that I was so happy that she was obviously impervious to the gender bias that was so prevalent in my generation.

Back in my day we could be shown an image of a woman in a surgical gown, in the act of cutting open a human being on an operating table. And our guesses for her career would be "Ummm...she's a teacher! No? OK...she's a maid!!! NO?! A librarian???"

9 out of 10 doctors recommend humor-blogs. (Really.)

Oh, Mylanta!

My mom called a few minutes ago. In the time it took me to turn around, answer the phone and return to the kitchen my two year old GOAT had gotten into my purse, removed the Mylanta and had eaten x number of pills. So I scraped out his mouth, rinsed it with water and called 911/Poison Control. They had good news - he could have eaten about a ton of this stuff and maybe just had a stomach ache or something. So no tummy pumps today. (And there was much rejoicing in the land...)

It kind of pissed me off that there is no child-proof lock yet the bottle heeds the warning, "Keep out of reach of children! IN CASE OF OVERDOSE CONTACT POISON CONTROL IMMEDIATELY."

In these litigious times WHY would a company not put their drugs in a child-proof container? Even medicine that is designed for children has some sort of mechanism to keep these little rascals out. I'm totally all up-in-arms, ready to kick some ass about it.

But then I've come to the realization that if I pursue this at all I'm very likely to hear the response, "Yes, it's true we could spend millions of dollars reformatting the bottle our medicine comes in. Or you could try watching your kid for a change. I'm just sayin'...." Pharmaceutical bastards, think they're so smart. Smarty McFarty Faces.

The irony is that although I'm Officially Pissed at the company, I am now in dire need of their product because worrying about my child overdosing on medicine almost always gives me heartburn. And that, Folks, is way more ironic than a black fly in my chardonnay.

Humor-blogs, take me away!

Smoke 'em if you got 'em!

I was spacing out this morning on my way home from the gym and the notion of candy cigarettes entered my mind. I have no idea why but now it's here and won't go away. So I figured I'd jot a few thoughts down about it.

I wonder who the marketing mega-star was who thought these up. He'd have been puffing away at his own unfiltered smoke trying to come up with the Next Great Thing. Suddenly he would look at the picture on his desk of his happy, healthy children. Slowly his gaze would shift down to his own smoldering goodness. His face would light up and he'd get this far-away, slightly creepy look in his eyes. "Mwuh-ah-ha-ha! Eureka!"

I've actually "smoked" these when I was a kid. The first time I smoked a candy cigarette was eerily similar to the first time I smoke an actual cigarette.

The candy version is bubble gum and it's encased in paper that has been flooded with powdered sugar. The first time I tried it I inhaled. The effect of this was similar to inhaling just as you are getting ready to take a bite of a powdered donut. It coats your mouth and throat and you begin coughing and choking. And it's not a gentle coughing fit, either. It's more of a purple faced, gasping for any air kind of deal. When it's over you put the donut that almost killed you down and think, 'Jesus. I almost died eating a fucking donut. Perhaps this is the 'rock bottom' I've been searching for and now I can finally go join Weight Watchers."

I think this image is especially poignant:



"Look, Kids! Santa says smoke 'em if you got 'em!"

Perhaps we should have a kids drink called "Bourbon for Babies". And maybe some pop rocks that are called "Meth Madness for Middle Schoolers". For their marketing campaign they could use images of "cool kids" who have teeth that have rotted away. "It's so good your teeth fall out!" I think this might be the next great thing. I have to scurry off to my patent attorney now.

Here is my humor-blogs feed. Click it for something really funny.

Tybee Time

Last night we returned from a family vacation at the beach. We went to Tybee Island which is just off the coast of Savannah, Georgia. It was lovely and we had a great time. From the balcony of my bedroom I could watch dolphin frolicking in the surf. Of course that only made me wonder where the hell the sharks were. Because everybody knows that you don't get one without the other.

But it's the dining scene I'd like to talk about today. Our first night there we went to a nice seafood place where I ordered a margarita, which was delicious. The restaurant was off to an excellent start. Our waitress was new and kind of a dingbat but we forgave her because she was cute and it was her second day. The real problem became obvious when my sister-in-law's plate of food arrived. She'd ordered the Fresh Steamed Shellfish Platter. Which was accompanied by a steaming cup of....margarine. WTF??! Why would someone serve THAT with a $26 plate of beautiful seafood??

We decided to never again go there for dinner. The next morning we got up and went out for breakfast. We each ordered the special which came with 2 eggs, 2 pieces of bacon and 2 buttermilk pancakes. But wait! Don't forget to bring us the maple syrup and the little cup of...is it?....could it be...? More margarine! What the hell is wrong with this place?! Tybee Island must be the margarine capital of the world. We decided to go to the grocery store and cook the meals in our rented home so as to ensure the presence of Real Butter.

Our last night there we wanted to go out to eat. So I decided to call around and just ask the question - do you or do you not serve 100% REAL butter with your entrees???

The first place I called proudly announced that they served drawn butter. I said, "Are you sure? Because I have an allergy...." She said that she'd double check and came back to sheepishly tell me, "Uh...sorry, I was wrong. We serve melted margarine." ::puke and angrily hang up phone::

The second place I called impressed us all because the person who answered the phone knew and admitted that they, too, serve margarine.

With a heavy heart I called the third place on my list where the woman told me that they serve butter. I threw the same BS at her about my "allergy" and she said, "Of course I'm sure. I'm the purchaser for this restaurant. And we never even buy margarine. Why would we?!" SCORE!

So off we went to Dewey's Restaurant. When we pulled up this is what we saw:

My husband summed up what everyone was thinking, "THIS is the best restaurant on Tybee Island??!"

But we ventured forth with our empty bellies and walked through the door where we were greeted with the slight but unmistakable aroma of a toilet. Uh oh. This is almost never a good sign. But the allure of 100% REAL butter prodded us along. We ordered and SURPRISE! The food was amazing! We totally recommend the following dishes:

Spicy Crab Dip
Calamari
Seafood Cioppino (truly innovative and delicious)
Baked Stuffed Shrimp
Fisherman's Platter

After dinner we were walking along the water outside of the restaurant and my 2 year old got stung on the top of his head and his eye lid by a hornet. That sucked (his eye swelled shut). But, the meal was still really awesome.

And the best news of all is that after my sister-in-law went screaming off to a drugstore to get some Benadryl for Thing Three and his disappearing eyeball we went next door to catch Captain Mike's Sunset Dolphin Tour which was wonderful. Watching the sun set beneath the island lighthouse as dolphin splashed around us was almost too good for a girl like me.

The baby can once again have full use of both of his eyes. I didn't see any sharks or margarine. I gotta say...it was a good day.

Humor-Blogs loves their butter, too. That's why we're so tight, yo.