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Step 1: Don’t have ridiculously long post titles.

Fuck. Me.

Ok well you know what, who cares because no one reads post titles. I could be all, ‘Hey this post is about monkey’s getting tattoos of breasts so they can be more human looking and sexy’ and no one would even notice. Moving on…

This monkey here - cute or sad?

Step 2: Use the Plinky question of the day to combat writer’s block

Hmm, interesting…I do like questions. Today’s questions is

If you could enact one new law, what would it be?


This just made writer’s block worse. Because I didn’t even have writer’s block before – I was going to write about the state of monkey sexuality and maybe there should be a law about that? No, no that’s a waste of my single lawmaking magical ability that is fiction and for fun but I’m suddenly taking really really seriously.

It’s the genie conundrum.

I’ve always said to myself, “Self you need to avoid the shit out of genies. Because genies are baaaaad mojo. They look like they give wishes but what the really give are lessons in humanity. And if there’s one thing I hate more than a monkey paw/ability to turn things into gold with a touch/suddenly being ruler of the world it’s a lesson.  Also, humanity. In general, all of that.”

Bratz + Genies + Internet Marketing = Evil Trifecta

There’s so many possibilities. And how far should I take this law thing. So, ok, I make the law and then do I have to come up with the punishment in case some one breaks the law? And when would this fictious, inevitably self-serving law go into effect?

This is….so….much….pressure.

I can’t do it. I can’t.

I must.

I feel like I should take the fancy highroad and enact some law that requires people to take their fashion advice from the Bills.

But that seems like it would come with all kinds of regulation issues.

or what about doing something that would benefit everyone? Like maybe improving vacation time for all people whose first name begins with the letter S and is me? Like that?

I don’t know. What law would you enact? If you could be a better blogger.


You guys.

It’s freezing up in here.

It’s nearly as cold as it is outside which is…hang on let me check my weather app…29 degrees. That’s below freezing which makes inside freezing. And I’m not at my house, I’m at work.

This shit should be illegal.

I should sue someone. Only it would have to be the state and he doesn’t have any money.

I guess a boiler broke which is the kind of irresponsible crap that happens on the island of Sodor but this is the library of Oklahoma! What the hell.

I have a proposal to write but I can…not…think…mind…like…a…frozen…slug… which is the slowest creature of all.

I’ll try to find something to illustrate myself.

That is me. Metaphorically.

Is anyone still even out there?

Ok, so you know how someone will come up to you and be all, “Omjesus you look just like -insert celebrity name here-” and you go, “oh, wow, really? Yeah, really? I guess I can see that.” Then you run home and google them and do your hair like them and watch all their movies and stuff?

One time, a coworker told me her son thought I looked like Penelope Cruz.


Of course, it couldn’t possibly be because at the time I was dying my hair jet black and trying to pass it off as ‘natural’. Or that I wore this great shiny lip plumbing lipstick. Or that, when I’m tan, I look vaguely and ambiguously ‘ethnic’. No surely not.

This is me/penelope who’s 4.5 months pregnant with Javier Bardem’s baby. And good for her too, because you know Matthew and Tom (HA! The official Tom Cruise website is genius) had their little freak babies so I’m glad it’s her turn.

At the gym, a guy told my dad he looked like Stephen Seagal.

insert photoshop of penelope stephen on a beach with a double rainbow <—- I was totally going to do this but I ran out of time last night. Actually I had to watch Bones. Sweets heavy episode, you understand. Just picture it in your mind.

My husband is Pacey circa season 3.

Then, this other time, this guy told me I looked like Justine Bateman from Fast Times at Ridgemont High and I was all, “the huh?”

and guy was rolling his eyes as if I’d just botched the first line of the Star Spangled Banner or something going, “You know. Fast times! from the 80s.”

Ok. People. Let’s get something straight right now. I was a kid in the 80s. So if you make references like Care a lot! We care a lot! clapclap – I will jump up and down and care bear stare your ass off. If you ask me to find hidden treasure like a Goonie, I will join you. If you, in your infinite awesome crewness, bring me a Teen Witch dress I will love you forever.

However, if you reference 80s pot movies or Tron. I’m just going to start daydreaming about my Hollywood Bardem baby.

The point is –

Sally Kern is no Stephen Seagal but if she wanted to be, I wouldn’t call her confused.

Dream big. Love yourself. Have freak babies. And for god’s sake, find me a Snork backpack.

Not really. Nothing wow.

I have a busy important job. We covered this right? Well that job and other weird things have kept me from posting. Which made you cry.

Or grateful. I don’t know. I don’t care.

So I’m back for today. Hopefully tomorrow too? Again. I don’t know. I’m an unpredictable tornado.

I have so much to tell you. Like how only creepy janitors are allowed to work here and how the newest one stares and snorts like Gremlin and how I want to take a shower or a lye bath after he leaves my cubicle.

Or my sister’s wedding which was awesome.

Or how it’s raining raining raining and still too warm for hot chocolate and how I don’t think that should even be possible.

Or how I’ve decided to only use clip art to express myself.

So, the past few weeks, for me, in clip art:

Oh no! Where is all my money? What's that you say? On my head? GETOUTTAHEAH

Have some books - or really databases but there's no database clip art. Databases are pretty ephemeral things, but not like angels which are easy to clipartitize more like the Holy Spirit. Give me a break, I was in a church this weekend.

Happy Weddings Shelbydoll! This is a pretty accurate clip art. Because her husband, Joel (pronounced Joe - Ell) is Venezuelan. Only it is also inaccurate because Shel wouldn't be caught dead in poofy sleeves like that. Unless it was like, a joke wedding.

So what have you been up to?

Hey, remember me? I used to blog here before I got really important?


Anyway, I’m taking time today to reconnect. Like old lovers meeting across a dark bar and being all, ‘omg, it’s Tom! Wow, he looks just like he did in college. I’ll take another shot and approach him.”

“Oh hey, Stacey. You look great.”

“Actually, it’s Deborah.”

“Right. Sweet Debbie.”

“Deborah. You know, like when Debbie Gibson was all, screw this teen bop madness I’m a Broadway STAH and you can call me DeborAH. Except, I’m a nail beautician and not a sta-”

“Hahaha, oh Debbie you are so funny.”

“Whatever, Tom.”

“Wanna go make out?”

Like that.

I’m sure you wondering what I have been up to. Just work. Oh but I did get this book for my anniversary!

All About Us


It’s pretty much the greatest book to ever exist in the history of books existing. Basically, you force your partner to sit down and answer ridiculous questions about your relationship.


They are questions like, ‘what 3 habits of your partner’s do you hate?’

I’ve been wanting to talk about annoying habits for ages now.

Or ‘what is the most attractive feature on your partner.’

These things make you feel good.

Danny hates it. Or says he does. But secretly I think he loves it.

The lesson of today – I’m a busy lady who won’t blog as much.

And lesson two – dark bars are not the place to hook up with old lovers. That’s for facebook.

finally, lesson three – All About Us, so much fun.

For me.

Danny too, don’t even lie.

What have you been up to?

Oh and I haven’t forgotten Fancy Horse – it’s just very hard to do here.

My friend over at A Little Crazy to be Cool is having a rough day. AND her therapist is out of town. Fucking therapists. I swear. Expensive and unavailable. It’s yet another profession that I can add to my list of jobs that should be robots. At the top of the list are policemen, even though some people (read: Danny) think this is a terrible idea because then the policebots will enslave us. I say that having policebots means we will finally get the impartiality that police should have. Also, an excuse for a new Law and Order partnership.

Anyway, she needs cheering up and that means – survey time!!!

Ding ding ding ding ding <—-happy gameshow bell ringing.

This survey brought to you by Donny Osmond

Back in the day, when email was king, I used to send out all kinds of happymaking surveys. The idea is to read it, then respond with your own answers. Copy and paste people, it’s old technology. So respond on your blog or in the comments. Capeesh?

1. Have you ever made money illegally? I did spend a summer clubbing seals.

2. Do you think jail will straighten Lindsey Lohan out? Nope, gay for life. Jail will probably just reinforce this. Bitches in LA jails are HOT.

3. Do you have a friend with a different religion than you? Oh my god. I know so many people who like worship Edward Cullen and I’m like – wtf? Team Jacob. How can we even be friends?????

4. Who sounds more like a girl – Justin Bieber or Michale Jackson? Bieber by benefit of being able to breath.

5. Do you like Vulcans or Romulans better? Romulans. Duh. Don’t you judge me.

6. Airsoft or paintball? What the? I’m too old for this question.

7. What is scarier – Silent Hill or Final Frame? Hello. Silent Hill. Final Frame is not only not scary, it is difficult and involves puzzles and I suck at it.

8. Would you ever choose to fight a fight you could not win? Only if it had sexy results.

9. Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings? Both. In a pile. At the same time. With a mirror….make that 5 mirrors.

10. Do opposites really attract? If they are magnets then yes.

Alright, cathy, I hope this made you feel a bit better and also that you learned something. Learning keeps our neurons firing and that is science. Science saves lives.


Oh my gosh! You guys! SPIES!

Kinda crappy spies…but still.  Spies!

Wow, spies are so great aren’t they? In fact, in my free time, I write a little series of pulp fiction called Cosmo Lady Spies (on Mars). In involves lady spies going around the cosmos. Right now I’ve got one infiltrating the local Marsian cathouse called the Glass ASSassSIN. Only, she’s not a whore because that’s lazy writing…no, wait, she’s totally a whore.  But a spy whore which is all kinds of different. Anyway, the Glass ASSassSIN has glass floors and walls and the women and men (it’s an equal opportunity employer) wear lavish Victorian costumes with no underwear.


Anyway, these guys were honest to life spies!

Not bullshit spies like

Why would you even do this? It's reckless and pointless.

but real spies like

See? Cookies and smiles and an armful of rolling pins. That's way more effective.

Real spies are better in a lot of ways. First, because they don’t blow shit up. It is not the job of a spy to blow shit up. That’s lazy spy work plus it ruins the cover. I mean, please. Bond? James Bond. Whatever. Don’t you think that the minute your martini glass shatters and a bullet grazes your ear you’re going to think:  ‘Wtf? Who would do this? Naaaahhh, couldn’t be that mysterious new dapper gentleman.’ I mean, really.

A spy’s job is to get close to you and use alien technology to steal your secrets. A spy’s job is to do this without you knowing. That’s like, the definition of spy.

Danny reminded me last night of that time the Chinese gifted us a plane and it was full of bugs. Hahahaha, that was awesome.

Then, remember when Valeria Plame was outed by Scooter Libby? Scooter Libby! That name is so pornographic, I can’t even handle it.

Finally, there’s the greatest spy of all time – the Mata Hari. Wow.

Spies. You know I love ’em.

And you, how do you feel about spies? If you could be a spy were would you go?

That’s right, it’s UFO Day! What? You weren’t aware?

Aliens hate suburbia.

In our house, this is kind of a big deal. This is the post where I tell you that Danny believes in aliens. And not just a little bit. He’s like, committed to the cause.

Fine by me. I cherish being the normal one.

When I say committed I mean, card carrying. Conference attending. Call in radio show doing. He’s met Stan Friedman. He’s stood in the middle of a crop circle. And yeah, the boy’s name is

Here’s some ideas of what you can do to celebrate UFO day:

  1. Get drunk on rum then sit in a boat on a lake, at night, alone, fishing – guaranteed abduction!
  2. Get drunk on vodka and take your car out to a dirt road, at night, alone, sleeping – guaranteed abduction!
  3. Get drunk on tequila, go to Area 51, at night, alone, climbing the fence – guaranteed arrest!

Or you can look at the sky and wonder. Imagine all the possibilities. Just think of each thing that had to happen in order to stitch your tiny existence together and how impossible those things are. I mean, really, the nervous system? Complex and impossible.

Aliens don’t seem that far fetched. The universe is waiting and stretched beyond anything I can ever comprehend and the only message that I have for you on UFO day is the same one I will give you every day

Look. Up.

Wow, I just realized that I have slid past the 100 post mark. I guess I missed it. Wonder why…

Oh right, because none of you bitches threw me party. What the hell is the point of readers if they can’t fucking count and throw me a party?  WORTHLESS.

While we’re on the subject –  hello, 100 posts and I’m not famous yet? I’m not rolling around in a pile of bloggedy cash. Travesty.

Also, that’s your fault. You should be spreading the  Free Therapy love like a meme, like an internet cult that gives you orgasms and candy. Honestly, readers, you really need to work harder on this. Don’t you want to see me happy?

Whatever. I’m over it.

Ova it.

Have Wills and Kate announced their engagement yet? I need to know when to order the dozen singing ferrets.

How about you fools? Talk to me. Tell me what is up. Is there anything that I missed while I was writing 100 posts of perfection?

Tomorrow – there will be some poetry. Poetry about Unicorn Stud.

And his pleather.

And plumes.


Til then, hugs and chugs.

So…sometimes, my stats make me create tears. Like little eye puddles. It’s because I learn something new and I realize that I have failed you. For example, yesterday, I learned that you do not like discussing child abuse even though I was not condoning it, hell I wasn’t even really talking about child abuse but child abuse awareness. Whatever.

I bow to your wishes. Specifically, I believe the topmommyblog crowd (which I always read as tommyblogs and I’m like wtf is Tommy? oh wait wait TOP my bad). See I know I’ve offended when a lot of tmbs come in but don’t click the juggling woman (who, by the way, is waaaaay worse a mom than me – I mean, maybe she doesn’t talk about abuse but she’s juggling heavy objects and not feeding her baby and she’s grinning like she’s on meth).  By coming in then not clicking the bitch it’s like saying “oh no! This blog has offended!”

So today, in honor of topmommies every where I am making it happy baby thought day.

As proof that I love babies, here I am (in winter) with mine. Notice - he's smiling!

First order of business is adding the offensive subject to my list of things to never ever bring up again. The list now looks like this:

  1. dead bab(doll)ies
  2. Bode Miller’s scrot

I’m sure there will be more in the future. *sniffs*

Next, I’ll tell you about an entire subgenre of Romance that I like to call Babeh Fever.

Baby My Baby (A Ranching Family, #2) (Silhouette Special Edition, #946)

Lest you think I'm kidding...

The conventions of babeh fever go like this:

Get knocked up – by a hot guy of course, please, no ugly babies here. What do you think our heroine will do with an ugly baby? That’s right. Abuse.

Then have the hot guy bail because he’s an enormous jerk with no redeeming qualities. Score! She gets hot genes and a blissful man-free pregnancy. I can see the appeal of this genre.

Then, lady is getting all near due date and thinking ‘damn, I’m about to have a baby. I need a man to worship me and change this kid’s diapers. Make that a HOT man. Where am I going to find that?’ Cue knock on the door.

Surprise! Here’s a hot man who is unnaturally attracted to pregnant women (though it helps that the lady has no physical symptoms aside from a perfectly cute round belleh). He falls in love at first sight. How could he not?

A Baby on the Ranch : Men of the West (Silhouette Special Edition) (Silhouette Special Edition)In one case he’s a ranger and he goes to tell lady about her long lost family (don’t try to make sense of this) but THEN he realizes that might send her into pre-term labor. That’s right, a single hot man who understands potential labor triggers. It’s fantasy folks.

Anyway, some sort of natural/manmade/vampire disaster happens and the woman has to give birth in a cozy location (like a giant mansion or something) with just the hot man beside her. He is not grossed out. He is moved to accept babeh as his own.

In short, he’s got the fever.

Sex follows because the woman heals and drops her two pounds of baby weight in a week.

All is wonderful in the world.

Not that I’ve walked by these books and considered reading them like a 1,000 times or anything….

Another happy baby thought?

Ok, you’re so insistent –

I’m posting an awesome kid video! A healthy non-abused kid!

Ugh, except I have to link to it because WordPress doesn’t allow videos which is SHIT.

Awesome Jessica <—-trust me, it’s not dirty or wrong it’s very very great

If you are content then click the mommy to the left! Why? Well, I’ve got an ego the size of an elephant and it needs to be fed.

*I was going to say “Texas” but that would be mixing metaphors.*

**Also, do check out topmommyblogs because there are some really fun, cute, touching uh mommy blogs on there!**

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