You and I are tight, right? I feel like I can tell you anything, and I feel like you're always there to gimme some skin, too. That's why it was really hard for me to look you in the eyes and pretend nothing was amiss, when all the while I knew I was about to go AWOL on you without even leaving you with so much as a note on your pillowcase or a slap on the ass on my way out.
I've been away a couple of days, but I was on a covert mission to surprise my husband with the You've Just Turned Thirty Now Pop a Viagra, Swap Out Your Depends, And Let's Go Relive Your Often Shamefully Libidinous But Most Usually Gangsta Fresh College Days of Yore tour. This little weekend took quite a bit of planning. Here are the important ground-laying ingredients to absorb in order to fully appreciate the nitty gritty details of the event: 1) I was the national titleholder of America's Worst Planner four years in a row, and I earned an honorable mention (and most photogenic) in '03. That's why planning a surprise for my husband, Nosey von Nostrum, is a UGE (that was huge without the h for some juicy emphasis) undertaking.; 2) Several lovely assistants and myself managed to assemble a thirteen person all star squad to convene in Athens, GA to give the miniskirted, Blackberry toting, Croakies adorned, Miller Lite imbibing, randy young freshfaced college kiddos a run for their money. I think we were pretty victorious. Here are some points of interest:
The lessons learned on our debaucherous pilgrimage are far too numerous to itemize here, but I will hit some randomly selected weekend highlights so you and I can be caught up to speed.
Monday, March 31, 2008
Back in the saddle...
Thursday, March 27, 2008
You give me something, I can hold on to!
Awwww, Shiznitz! You know what today was? Today was one of those days that will be highlighted in my obituary. Today, my heart rumbled, my head rolled, and my loins quivered. Today, I discovered Jenny Jones' website.
My friends, I thought that my radiant beacon who brightened my days for years upon years had abandoned me for dead. Little did I know, she was simply waiting for the day that I would rediscover the sexier, virtual Jenny, and she does NOT disappoint. People, when I opened Jenny's website, I hit the mother lode. Jenny is a veritable knowledge messiah; I kid you not - I can not think of one area of learning that Ms. Jones does not cover - and cover masterfully. To wit: the information superculdesac that is jennyjones.com features smackyourass fantastic cooking tips and a for real though? nutrition quiz and a oh no she didn't advice column penned by The Divine Ms. J. herself and Jenny's own soft as a baby's butt made of five other really soft baby's butts 10 Tips For Beautiful Skin and Jenny's I can't believe this is only six steps 6 Step At Home Facial and a has this woman for real not been sainted and/or kidnapped and living in my basement biography and an I dominated all 12 questions on the first try Jenny quiz and a four section no (Alan) Cox allowed For Women Only quadrant featuring nod your head yes pet peeves, lolololololol Is it Just Me?s, you know that's right rules for the sexes, and a when did you yoink my diary, Jenny Jones? man quiz.
BUT WAIT, THERE'S MORE! JJ also covers the ups and downs and heys and hos of her amazing talk show and feeds my jones with a Jenny Jones Junkie quiz and whets my whistle with her snappies of like I'm looking at Jenny's soul butterflies and naughty bugs need love too creatures and like Sisqo with wings dragonflies and these rival your innocence, Jenny flowers and you're not crappin us other stuff that looked cool. Was that Ansel Adams? No; that was J. Jones. If you can stand the heat, do some clickin on Jenny's photo album, featuring a plethora of lovely Jenny shots, including (but not limited to) I've already downloaded these from I Tunes Bands Jenny Has Been In, by bad you must mean AWESOME bad hair days and I can't believe you'd tease me with this title Wardrobe Malfunctions. Getcha some live action Jenny Jenny with her how to video series: including my rings now shine like Jenny's eyes "How to Clean Jewelry like a Pro"; that's not the only thing that's open "How to Open a Jar Every Time" and much, much more! Finally, the original riot grrrrrl Madame J's standup schtick is highlighted in Vintage Videos, and lemme tell you: Bob Saget could learn a thing or two about delivery from Jenny's no shite "How to Impress a Woman" bit and her Are you There God, It's Me Jenny "My First Bra" gag. Holy freakin wow.
Anyway, I now know how I will spend the rest of my days. It's me and Jonesy 2gether 4eva. FYI, she posts an online diary, too. At first read, I couldn't remember if it was Jenny writing, or if it was me. Today, she had me at "I'm taking shorter baths to make my pedicure last longer." Hopefully your tub holds two, J, because I'm with you, Jenny. Forever.
after bowing down to the Jenny gods, visit humor-blogs.com and humor.alltop.com.
Sexy Programmer Thursday: Passion Explosion Version 5.0
5. Finally, succinct, spicy Alan spews profound messages for the masses, and readers, this particular thought wad is not blown on Yours Truly. On January 3, 2008 at 2:41 a.m., our manmeat opined, "Repeatedly posting crud does not make it right." Oh, Alan, are you trying to send me a message, because I get it - loud and clear! I'll change for you, Alan! I will!
I'm thirsty: I'll take a Gallon of Alan and call it a day! My friend, you are one tittilating addition to Sexy Programmer Thursday! Oh, Cox the Fox: how will any other programmers compare to your brand of sexy?
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
We rejoice in you, most wonderful week of the year!
Alright, readers. You have spent too damn much time reading and far too little time enjoying this blessed holiday week of celebration.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
It's time for a clean break.
This might be a little awkward. I've never been good with breakups; I am really bad at being the Doctor Doom in any relationship. The thing is - and I am speaking solely on the limited experience of my mostly drama-free past - when the other party on the receiving end of my loveboat becomes just a little bit too touchsies feelsies for my taste, then I begin to feel sorta holy crap get offa me smothered, and I start to get the itchy itchy cold-sweats, and I imagine life without that person, and, you know, I sometimes picture myself walking down the mall hand in hand skipping gleefully along the way to pick up a perfectly salty Auntie Anne's pretzel and medium Coke with someone else.
And, well, this is where the 2008 election comes into play. You may have previously read about the relationship issues I harbor with my betrothed candidate; it seems that said candidate experienced a bit of a popularity ejaculation a short time ago, and, well, I kinda feel that my candidate has perhaps gone from being underground to being quirky to being cool to being needy to being stifling to being insecure and to now having the damn campaign with which that candidate associates e-mail me two sometimes three times a day to donate whatever I can afford (even five dollars - five dollars! - is enough!) to this damn candidate.
I wish the presidential race was more flashbang than goodgod I'm already looking forward to the 2016 candidates because I am already over the 2012 ones. But, you know, no one asked me. But, I would like to officially say this: I remember when I was a young, naive supporter of you, Candidate. You and I were both bright-eyed and happily prancing through the posies, out to change the world. We were idealistic and fancy free. But, it has been sooo many months since we began this battle. I am tired; I am weary, and your damn minions will not LEAVE ME THE FRICK ALONE! I would say that we should still be friends, but, I just don't think that we can leave things that way. We both know that's just too hard.
I wish you well, former candidate. Let's chalk it up to timing. Let's chalk it up to emotional Diff'rent Strokes. (It don't matter that you got, not a lot - so what; they'll have theirs, and you'll have yours, and I'll have mine. And together we'll be fine...) I mean, I really think one day we'll look back at this and laugh. But, just so you know, right now, if your lackey - we'll call him "Aviday Ouffeplay" - e-mails me one more damn time, I'm going to file a restraining order, mmkay?
Anyway, we had a really good run. Good luck with all the obstinate feminine itches that may stand in the way of what you want. I wish you well. Good day.
vote for these, please: humor-blogs.com and humor.alltop.com
Monday, March 24, 2008
And the Pigs' Blood Shall Be Doused Upon...
watch out, kid: doucharama is contagious.
Tomorrow I will do my best to be lucid enough to omit any urges to include craphounds such as these two. Until then, though, check out humor-blogs.com and humor.alltop.com
Sunday, March 23, 2008
It's time turn away from the melons.
Warning! Warning! This is a very important up to the second warning!
A rogue salmonella outbreak traveling in a round, juicy vessel is currently smiting North America and is threatening to spread its poisonous secretions throughout the world! 50 Americans and 9 Canadians have become sickened by dirty, plump Honduran canteloupes, and the FDA is warning YOU, readers, to toss your sweet, luscious melons as though they were yesterday's spoiled milkjugs. Do not, I repeat, do NOT suck the juice from these accursed rotund fruits. Please do not take this warning lightly.
In unrelated news: My, Angelina Jolie's Madame Toussaud wax likeness has incredibly lifelike nipples, eh?
For more succulent goodness, visit here - humor-blogs.com, and also here - humor.alltop.com!
Saturday, March 22, 2008
More Than Words
I am sick, and apparently I am being a big infant about it. Rumor has it I have mentioned the crappitudinous suckitude that I feel maybe a time or ten too many to garner total sympathy. So, instead of unloading my verbal menstruation on you as though you were my husband, instead, I shall just show you how I am feeling through a series of pictures. Interpret them however you see fit.
How about clicking here: humor-blogs.com. Mmmkay.
Friday, March 21, 2008
Thanks, March Madness, for bringing my ineptitude to light.
Right now, the sports world is going all Mickey Rourke kinds of CRAZY with the INSANITY that is MARCH MADNESS! In honor of the festival of full court press LUNACY, I am going to unload a little of my own El Donzer Loco on your lap like it's hot.
1. Surname Stupidity - I believe you know I'm married, yes? Well, long before I was a member of the Donzer party, I had a maiden name that became quite a popular joke on some hilarious stylin' t-shirts back in day. You probably had a zany neighbor down the street who got just a little bit too blitzed at the neighborhood potluck, fed Bootsie, the schizophrenic German Shephard, Schlitz from a water bowl, felt up your mom, and rocked this t-shirt. Have you pictured the shirt yet? That's right: It was the classically hilarious Big Johnson tee. This, however, is not even the source of the stupidity. You see, I was a little white girl Johnson, but apparently I didn't notice. For, I thought - nay - I believed that each and every Johnson was my cousin, and I told everyone. Including my entire first grade class. That Magic Johnson was my cousin. Right. Ridiculous. I argued this point to the death, and I religiously wrote Magic each and every Tuesday night to check in and inquire as to when he was going to return my letters and come for a visit. Imagine how pissed I was when, on a very special episode, Maury Povich ripped open that fated envelope, looked into my innocent eyes, and said, "Earvin...is ...NOT your cousin." My idiot vanilla life has never been the same.
8. Colored Sugar Crappitude - I am just sorta piggybacking off my last story, but, for whatever reason I believed that there was never, ever a limit to the amount of Fun Dip deliciosity one could physically ingest. I am here to tell you that six packets full of pink and purple love and six Lik-M-Aid sticks later, my mom's carpet begs to differ.
9. Neuterific Nuttiness - Again - no pun intended. The gist of this lesson learned? Well, I was kind of under the impression that when the nuts go away, the pencil can't play. Boy, was I ever wrong. I have a seven pound weiner dog who'll gladly whip out his magenta magic to prove it to you. No nuts? No problem. Thanks, Timmy.