today was the second day in a row where I caught Mason licking the dew off my car. yuck.

I got this joke forward to me that I thought was really funny and wanted to share.   Enjoy!

A man walks into a pharmacy and wanders up & down the aisles. The sales girl notices him and asks him if she can help him. He answers that he is looking for a box of tampons for his wife. She directs him down the correct aisle. A few minutes later, he deposits a huge bag of cotton balls and a ball of string on the counter. She says, confused, ‘Sir, I thought you were looking for some tampons for your wife? He answers, ‘You see, it’s like this, yesterday, I sent my wife to the store to get me a carton of cigarettes, and she came back with a tin of tobacco and some rolling papers; cause it’s sooo-ooo-o-ooo much cheaper. So, I figure if I have to roll my own ….so does she. ‘

I was just browsing around on etsy and I came accross this… well, it’s a weiner

sorry, I had to share it with SOMEONE! lol

rough day today.  Got a new haircut last night – it’s pretty short so of course I was struggling this morning as I didn’t know exactly what to do with it.

Then, as I was preparing my coffee for the drive to work, I went to grab the milk from the fridge.  As I was closing the door, I didn’t notice my almost one year old was nearly in the fridge, so the door sort of got closed on his head – he was not a happy camper.  Jesus, when I went to approach the fridge, I swear he was accross the room! I didn’t know I’d have to look down before I closed it… I felt horrible.

After dropping the kids off at nana’s, I was driving behind a yellow Lamborghini.  As this is not a usual occurance, I called my husband to discuss.  One thing about the Lamborghini, it had one of those plastic license plate ‘frames’, an advertisement for the dealer.  I asked hubby his opinion, but if I owned a yellow Lamborghini, I’d have taken that frame before I left the lot.  It’s almost as bad as having a bumper sticker if you ask me.  (My judgement is purely because it was a Lamborghini.  We aren’t talking about a minivan here.)

Driving on the expressway, I see yet ANOTHER fancy car – this time a Ferrari and I think – whoa, how weird is this.  Then I remember that this weekend is the all-too-famous Woodward Dream cruise.  From those of you not from the area, the Woodward Dream Cruise is an event (which is supposed to be like 2 or 3 days but turns into two weeks each year) where owners of classic cars drive up and down a few mile stretch of Woodward Avenue, usually at the speed of 25 max (mostly it’s bumper to bumper with ‘69 mustangs riding behind ‘99 mustangs riding behind some dipshit kid with a pimped out neon).  I’ve never understood the concept, but then again the thought of a classic car does not make me wet. 

Anyway, seeing this Ferrari reminded me of the event this weekend, but I still had the urge to call hubby yet again to tell him about it.

Two weeks ago I got a new Ford Fusion.  It’s got that Sync technology in it.  With the push of a button or two, I can tell my car to play the Dixie Chicks or call my hubby. 

I pressed the button and said very clearly (or so I thought) “Call Hubby Cell”.  After a breif second, the car responds, “say one to call hubby work.  say two to call yada yada yada. say three to call blah blah blah.”  Now, I only just called him about 10 or 15 minutes prior.  I’m not saying it any differently than before, so I’m a little frustrated.  Maybe I’ll try it again.  I press the button again and wait for my turn to speak the command.  “Call Hubby Cell”.  Again, the car responds  “say one to call hubby work.  say two to call yada yada yada. say three to call blah blah blah.”.  WTF.  Now I’m pissed.  But, I try yet again, only to recieve the exact same response. 

“you mother fucking bitch, you piece of shit car, fuck you, you stupid whore.” 

Yes, I was in a war of words, not just any words – expletives, fighting with my car.

I never was able to call him again this morning… The car is safe though.  No one was hurt. 

Maybe I’ll apologize to her later for losing my cool.

Annette from Fun With Play-Doh has posted another hysterical post that had me googling all over the place.

Inflatable Shit

From the website BlackBookMag.com, the article is entitled “Poopapocalypse Strikes Switzerland”.  The exhibit is called “Complex Shit” by American artist Paul McCarthy.  In a unthinkable turn of events, this “art” was carried off in a gust of wind, hitting powerlines and landing on a nearby children’s home.

You want some interesting “SHIT”, google Paul McCarthy… looks like there is hours of art to make you say “Wha?”

#1 on my celebrity "to DO" list - Josh Duhamel (and my hubby knows it)

I was almost late to work this morning. I woke up a mere 13 minutes before my alarm clock would no longer sound, in the height of a beautiful dream.  Yes, my love, Josh Duhamel chose me in that dream and as we kissed and proclaimed our love for one another,

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

stupid alarm clock… ARRRGGGHHH!!!

(I wish he would leave Fergie – how could he be with a chick that pee’d her pants on stage?  seriously? gross…)

There are days where I am really lazy.  I just can’t seem to get up early enough, and rather than be super late for work, I just clean up, pull my hair back into a ponytail or headband and scoot off to work.  It’s not like I’m totally skanky or smelly or anything, most people probably don’t even know.  I think that the only real sign that I didn’t shower is that I actually do my hair (ponytail or headband) – otherwise, I always leave it down.

Well, today was one of those ‘lazy’ days.  I brushed my hair and put a headband in.  Not one, but TWO people complemented me on my hair!  What does that say about me? that my hair looks better greasy than it does clean and full of bounce?  geez…

I was reading a post from Alison Wonderland  and it made me think of this night a few months ago…

So I’m cleaning up after a long day.  putting dishes away, loading the dishwasher, etc.  I pick up a travel coffee mug that had been sitting in a corner on my counter for god-knows-how-long.  Immediately it catches my eye – is that a spider web? wow, it’s thick… what the… is that a spider? wait a minute… I scream for my husband (who’s already in bed, trying to go to sleep – but I don’t care, this is important).  He marches down the stairs and I say “what the F&%k is this???”

“It’s an egg sack.” he replies as he washes it down the garbage disposal… EWWWWWWWW

egg sack

I’m 29 years old, and if it’s the slightest bit hot, I sweat buckets.  I walk by people, not a drip of sweat on them, but me, I need a towel to constantly wipe my brow.  What the hell is wrong with me? Is there some kind of medical miracle that will help me tame this annoying bodily function? 

Not only that, but even when I’m not sweating (or if I’ve JUST wiped the sweat off my face) my face is as red as a tomato.  I look like a freak!  Is there no help for this?

I dread going out today.  I promised my kids I’d take them to the fair, but it’s hot already and it’s not even 10.  What will it be like in an hour after M gets up from his nap?  UGGG…