“Tonight’s December thirty-first,
Something is about to burst.
The clock is crouching, dark and small,
Like a time bomb in the hall.
Hark, it’s midnight, children dear.
Duck! Here comes another year!”
—     Ogden Nash, Collected verse from 1929

For having offended me, Zoltar the Great, I curse you with terminal flatulence.  May your anus blast you at Mach speed III to the Galaxy of the hirsute Sasquatch infested Apennines and may you arrive as the only female on the planet.  Piece to all inhabitants of Apennines. (My curse is not without a miniscule of mercy, a case of giant economy size tubs of Vaseline will accompany you for aid and relief.)

My mother used to say, Peila, if S-E-X ever rears it's ugly head, close your eyes before you see the rest of it!  Too late.

This will ultimately result in nipple discharge followed by testicular inflammation, experienced by two minutes of gooey near-satisfaction while wrapped in clingfilm and experiencing damp emissions and ammoniac smells with each stroke of the lash. 

It matters not if the earth moved, making the sparks fly translates into the divine.

Longest Nerve In The Human Body

Longest Nerve In the Body…Always learning new stuff…

Did you know that in the human body there is a nerve that connects the eyeball to the anus?

It’s called the Anal Optic Nerve, and it is responsible for giving people a shitty outlook on life.

If you don’t believe it, pull a hair from your ass and see if it doesn’t bring a tear to your eyes.

My public service is done for the day!

This is my favorite killing spell. I've killed nearly every offensive dimwit that has ever offended me and I cannot be prosecuted as there is no DNA involved nor is it a hands on, up close or personal kind of elimination of the offender.

The only weapon needed is one turkey egg.

Take the turkey egg and bury it in a wicked person's grave (they usually have the biggest, gawdiest, most elaborate tombstones).  Leave it to sit there for five days.

After the time has completed, take out the egg and carry it to the house of the intended target.  Throw the egg over the top of the house.  In five days time the person should be dead.
  
If this should fail, get another turkey egg, bury it and repeat the process.  Do not throw over the offenders house, hit'em directly between the eyes. That should do it.  

Urinal Etiquette

• Refrain from whistling "The Man I love" while peeing.
•  Avoid the temptation of saying:  "Nice wrist watch you got there."
•  If you must fart, don't make it a long-winded affair.
• On those rare occasions when you have to use the little boy's urinal, do not get on your knees.
• Should you sense the guy next to you is piss shy, never comment: "It's all in your head."
• Be courteous when people are standing behind you.  Shake that "thang" no more than 3 times.
• Don't hog the hot air dryer trying to dry those last drops on your pants.  Hide your little puddle with a highly regarded newspaper or a nice cashmere topcoat.    

This is my written testimonial expressing my opinion of the excellence of your product.  Your salesperson stated that it was the best detergent/cleaner available.  I recently had the desperate need to use your product a few weeks ago due to spilling some red wine on my new white blouse.  My husband was totally inconsiderate of my plight and immediately started criticizing and belittling me on how clumsy I was and in general becoming a real pain in the ass.  One thing led to another and somehow his blood was all over my new white blouse!  I grabbed a cupful of Startling Brite Bilge Solvent Cleaner and to my utter surprise and to my complete delight all the stains came out!  No wine and no blood whatsoever!  In fact, the stains came out so well the detectives who came by yesterday told me that the DNA tests on my blouse were negative and then my attorney called and said I was no longer considered a suspect in the disappearance of my husband.

What a relief!  Going through menopause is bad enough without being a murder suspect to boot!  Thank you once again for having such a marvelous product.

Sincerely yours,
Nancy Bledsoe

I got to try the three "shitty flavors" for free.  Lemme tell you, ain't nuthin' free when your stomach rolls over then swells and starts making it's way up your throat to look you dead in the eyes and say: "what the hell was that all about, since when does peppers, bacon and horseradish go with ice cream?" I have no defense, I can tell you in all sincerity, I won't do it again!

I can sleep like this too, my tongue sometimes gets stuck in my ear and I'm told I'm almost this cute even while issuing harsh little snorts. Course old house mate is used to me after a couple hundred years, he still thinks I'm just adorable, I think he's a pain in the ass but such is the stuff of life.

"cheese"!

Had I known all I had to do at Costco was just say "Cheese" and walk away, I could have saved myself the humiliation. The memory is now one of those sticky-side-out incidences in life that just hangs as much as the loud growling flatulent yellowish cloud floating in the air above and around the heads of the innocent and unsuspecting victims who one by one dropped unconsciously to the floor. Some things one just can't find solace for.

You have no idea how much repair to my shattered self esteem this published note has done. I'm guilty of "cutting the cheese" in a check out line in Costco to the pure astonishment of those around me. It was one of those "sneakies" that makes a public break-for-freedom with no warning till it's already cut-and-run. Only thing you can do is grin and fan the air while saying "so, sorry, giving birth was a big a surprise too". On the downside, no one followed me out and told me I was gorgeous either.

In a local convenience store I came upon this unidentifiable species. I assumed it was human, but maybe not. I'm thinking it may be one of those "mincing hogs" I recently read about that is being bred for sausage. I was mesmerized by my fortunate opportunity to try one of these new lab wonders. Of course I'm going to have to kill it, but I've killed many a wasp, flies and spiders over the years so, I'm not new to the art of the kill. Then...the cashier said "come again Stew." Stew snorted an unintelligible response. Well, after all, he isn't one of us, it's not like he knows the language or anything. I then had an epiphany! Stew! As in home made! He's a stewing hoglet! How lucky can I get? I proceeded to purchase onions, potatoes and a can of tomato paste, a small bag of flour and a bottle of 1977 California Pinot Noir (that was very bad year for wine but beggars can't be choosers) and out the door I went. I caught Stew, dispatched him on the spot, loaded him into the cargo hold of the van and sped off home. I diced stew into bite sized cubes, removed the eyes from the potatoes (can't stand the way they stare), chopped my onions, added the tomato paste, and flour. took a couple of gulps of the wine then slowly added it for a simmer. We enjoyed stew that night and a couple more. My old house mate was very pleased and had not one complaint. By the way, since I've been back on Thorazine, I haven't seen any roving farm animals or lab species since. I guess finding Stew was a once in a lifetime opportunity.

Went to a large and very nice market  named O'Brien's who's owners boast of their excellent fruits and produce with a deli and their own meat counter. I was busy shopping and realized I needed some fresh fruit to make a fruit salad. I skipped (like hell I did, more like held on to the basket and prayed I would remain upright long enough to get this ordeal over with since there wasn't a boyscout in sight) and began purchasing a variety of fresh fruits when I came to the bananas which were wonderfully displayed until I caught on to what the advertising meant. For the first time in my life, as I gazed at the display, I felt like "stupifyin' Jones" from Lil Abner. This just couldn't be right, was this modern, well appointed super market suggesting carnal love with a fruit? Now I'm not a prude by any stretch of the imagination, I watched Dr. Ruth and her suggestions on cucumbers, you know, the cukes don't kiss & tell nor spread communicable diseases with the added advantage of picking the size that suits and all that poppy rot still I just do not believe in taking advantage of innocent vegetables and now I'm being encouraged to molest a banana? I was so traumatized I had to be driven home by the store's manager who apologized profusely for any undo misunderstanding. I accepted graciously and allowed him to unload my purchases. After he left, I sat down and eyed the banana then assured it that there was nothing to worry about with me as I peeled and ate the little sod right down to the end of it's little pod.

At around 9 to 11 years old, I was often left with an aunt who was in her late teens to early 20's while my mother went shopping. Aunt Roz had tons of "True Romance" and "Real Detective" magazines (she fluctuated between smarmy romance with an appetite for murderous passion on the side) I was forbidden to read her magazines but often did without ever being detected. I had my first (non religious) * 'epiphany' from an ad in one of her magazines. I recently found that ad. When I originally discovered it, I could make no sense of it at all. What in the world could you do with a vibrating finger? I just could not figure it out! Why would you need to use a finger on your gums when you have them on your hands already? I was using a Q-Tip one day and my mother yelled, "get that out of your ear this minute!" I thought...how am I supposed to clean and scratch my ear? THEN I KNEW! The vibrating finger of course! When I approached my mother with the ad I had carefully cut out of aunt Roz's magazine and asked for one to clean and scratch my ears, my mother became hysterical and threw a hissy fit the likes of which I would grow used to as I got older and more of a nuisance and screamed "NO!" When the matter was turned over to my father who was preparing for my hanging and realized what the object was, he looked at my mother, turned on his heels and left the premises. The matter was never spoken of again.

 I recently was given the rare opportunity to get a discount on 2 tickets to the drag races. I told old geezer the great news and that we would make a night of it with dinner on me at the Colonel's. With great excitement and soaring anticipation we were off to the races eating our fried chicken on the way. I bet on my favorite the "Green Mistress" who's the fastest 'thang' on platform heels! And...being the genteel lady of quality that I am, I placed a bet on "Bald-headed Sally" for my old life long pest and companion in a gesture of good will and sportsmanship. While cheering the winner of the race "Green Mistress" with "Bald-headed Sally coming in a smoking second place winner I glanced over and saw what appeared to be a series of out of control hot flashes sizzling off the old beezer's face. He indignantly informed me this was not the drag races he thought I was dragging him too. I told him if he sees me standing in the backyard staring at the moon with an ax, ask me no questions, you won't like the answers.

Drove old housemate to his proctologist (the equivalent for men of a gynocologist) the other day. I enjoy going just to watch the dread spread across his face of the intimate 'probing' to come and then watch him squirm and wriggle on the way home due to the lingering effects of the poking and the discomfort of that wet gooey feeling of stickiness that KY-Jelly is noted for. Yessiree, it's an honor to present an "Attaboy" award to the weaker sex once in a while.

I fixed spaghetti and meatballs for dinner. The disagreement that started about an hour later between old housemate and the meatballs went on for half the night with him accusing me of being humane but not human when it comes to my culinary skills. I admit I like spices but it's against the law to shoot me for that and in India I would be a Goddess if word got out. Sorry, I digress, anyhowdy, the battle finally ended when the meatballs were fed up with him and exited out his back door. Tonight, I will try Chicken-a-la king!

I've been feeling wretched lately. I have a tendency to prevaricate, obfuscate and complicate. I'm becoming passive aggressive again and refusing to make up my mind just to be as annoying to those around me as possible while accusing, confusing and refusing to be congenial at social functions then encouraging ambiguity on both sides of any issue presented. Senility may be the culprit. Admittedly, I signed a petition at WalMart supporting the death penalty for parking violations. I told 'old housemate' that my intentions each day are to walk tall, carry a big stick and look for any reason to use it. He started backing away from me again with that look of fear in his eyes. I'm beginning to think he's askeert' of me just a tad, guess he's worried I'll do something to his dangling participle...well...I did put a splash of Tobasco Sauce on his 'peenie wipes' once. Shouldn't have pissed me off, then of course there was the infamous hemorrhoid incident...alright, I admit there is some validity to his fear. Well, after all, normal is merely an illusion...what is normal for the spider is chaos for the fly.

Being an "Alpha Female", I'm easily provoked and react without mercy. Old 'house mate' transgressed again resulting in getting thrown out of the house. He now resides in the shed out back till further notice. Read the note on his door and follow written instructions as posted.
Signed: Bossy Beest, mistress of the manner.

I used to think these idiosyncratic kitchens were amusing and totally impractical. Now, I would love to have one when we move for what is expected to be the final time. I want everything compact and easy with minimal exertion and maximum efficiency.