Another hangover in a bottle

Courtesy of my local liquor store.

It's some sort of alcohol-laden smoothie goop that you pour over ice.

That color is not the color of the bottle. That's the color of the liquid inside.

Shudder.

Beau's latest kitchen tip

"You don't need to check expiration dates. Spices stay good for thousands of years."

The rule of Crocs

You can only wear Crocs if they don't look like Crocs.

(Yes, those are Mad Libs in the background.)

My good friends are pretty lucky

Sounds like I'm a humorless bitch to my acquaintances. :)

It's the small things in life

that tend to bring us joy.

Last Friday, I walked in to the office reeling from the news about that horrible, senseless theater shooting here in the Denver area. I can't really comment on that incident; it's so horrible and wretched that I can't get my mind around it. I feel sick, and it's a feeling I can't shake.

I trudged in with a heavy heart, pulled out my chair, and found a Winchell's donut box with this note affixed to it.

My friend Erica had brought in bagels and donuts for everybody. I have the later shift, so I always get the leftover donuts (not that I'm complaining; a leftover donut is better than first choice of the oatmeal selection in my desk drawer). She gave me first choice.

Something about that is just so sweet. And in the face of evil, we all need a little sweetness.

And sprinkles.

 Thanks, Erica.

Pinterest

I love Pinterest. It's awesome.

But I have a gripe (you knew I would).

It's the nonsensical tripe masquerading as English in some of the descriptions.

Case in point (I cut off the name of the pinner--and it's nobody I know anyway).

Wow love theses

Really? How much more time would it have taken to put in a period, cap an L, and delete an S? I'm not looking for literature. I'm just looking for comprehensible English.

Am I too picky? Do I ask too much?

You bet your ass I do.

Or, in Pinterese, You bet's asses do. 

Only at my office...

Do directions like these make perfect sense.

I'VE MOVED. OTHER SIDE OF THE YELLOW SUB BEHIND THE SNOWMOBILE.

Little zickle on the prairie

I've started making my own laundry detergent. I still use the washing machine (I'm not beating my clothes on a rock down by the river or anything), but I saw this blog and wanted to give it a shot.

And it works. Really, really well.

So well, that I've gone on to make my own dish detergent (works well) and my own shower cleaner (which either doesn't work as well as I wanted or my shower is just that dirty--I'm going with the former).

I blame pinterest, my new favorite time-suck. It's unleashed my once-secret crafty DIY side.

Anyway, if I were you, I'd try the laundry detergent. I double-dog dare you. The recipe makes a ton and it works like a charm.

I feel mean when I do it

But I cackle like a mean old lady whenever I see this commercial.

It's the combination of the singing and the Grand Canyon. It's just too much.



But then I found this remix, and I feel so much better about myself. Anything that gets a remix is fair game.

Some numbers are hard to get

For instance, my pal Duff begged and pleaded with the phone company to get this phone number: 352-DUFF (don't call it; he hasn't had it for years).

However, I'm pretty sure 1-800-TOILETS wasn't hard to get at all. I'd hate to be the person who answered that line.

Thank goodness!

Finally, the children of this country have the gluten-free play areas they deserve!

Sad or rad?

I can't make up my mind. There's something kind of awesome about putting a Jaguar hood ornament on a Chevy truck. But I have a feeling that this person's reasons for doing this run along the pathetic, not the awesome. 

Mmmmm....

I'm not going to name the product by brand, but I'll tell you that this is a coupon for mayonnaise. Or, as this company puts it, VISCOUS PRODUCT. 

Mmmmm! What sandwich or potato salad couldn't use a little more viscosity?

Mom moonlights for the DEA

About a year ago, my mom walked in my front door with a very concerned look on her face.

I asked her what was wrong and she dropped the bomb (in a stage whisper):


I think you have marijuana growing in your front yard!!!

I assured her that I didn't, but she dragged me outside to look at a weed (but not weed) anyway.

FIVE LEAVES! she declared triumphantly.

It was so cute and so funny that I almost wished it was weed so that she'd be right.

Parents are so cute at that age.

Fancy marketing ploy

I recently purchased these amazing Convertible Pants!

Which means you can roll them up.

Which means, I suppose, that ALL my pants are Convertible Pants.

Heeeeeeey, wait a cotton-pickin' minute!

My three favorite vacation signs

In Tahoe a few weeks ago, I saw lots of interesting signs (or signage as they say in advertising. Yes, they actually say that in advertising). So, of course, I'm sharing them with you.

The first was in a bathroom in a park. I've never peed so quickly in my life.

This one was in a casino. It would seem that these rules go without saying, but apparently not. Guess there aren't a lot of bright bulbs on the strip.  

This one was for a bar in one of the casinos. I love the fact that they actually named an "all-new and  very hip" casino bar Cliche. Too awesome.

Available for purchase in the great state of California

Get yours now!

Best. Fortune. Ever.

Who am I to argue???

No matter where you travel....

There's always at least one guy who speaks Asshole.

This came from my dear friend Jen in Sydney, Australia.

The best thing about oral sex--5 minutes of silence.

Proof that I have the best parents in the world

A couple weeks ago, After hearing that I got some bad news the night before, they showed up on my doorstep the next morning.

With sprinkle donuts.

Because those always made me happy when I was a kid.

They still do.

Freaky fun

I have a passing acquaintance with an unusual woman. She's very artistic and more than a little bit out there. But always interesting, albeit in small doses.

I heard the most insane thing about her about a week ago.

She has very (I mean veeeeeeeery) long hair. And the care and maintenance of this hair is extremely time-consuming. The washing and brushing take about half a day.

And when she combs it out...

She saves the hair and puts it in the dryer to form what she calls pellets.

And from those pellets...

SHE WANTS TO MAKE A COAT!

Isn't that so deliciously creepy that it just makes your skin crawl?

It totally beats the story my friend told me about her mother-in-law, who obsessively combed her dog and saved enough hair to knit a sweater out of it.

She wore the sweater on Christmas day, and when she came in out of the snow she smelled like wet dog.

Which. Is. Awesome.

I love being weirdness-adjacent.

The perfect excuse

We have to go to Golden or the mountains or somewhere out of town this Sunday if you want to come along, my mother told me a week ago.

It's not abnormal for them to go to Golden or the mountains, but the phrase we have to stood out.

Why do you have to? I asked. 

We got invited to a party that I don't want to go to on Sunday, she replied. I told them we'd be out of town, so now we have to go out of town so I'm not a liar. 

This is so like my mother. Not wanting to hurt feelings and not wanting to lie.

I know a lot of women who have a hard time saying no without giving an excuse. And many of us end up attending events or doing favors we don't want to just to be nice. We're programmed to be polite.

Deep down, I think a lot of us are worried that if we don't make some sort of excuse, we'll be questioned and somehow caught not wanting to do something (when, in reality, very few people question further if you say I'm sorry, I can't).

But for those of you who absolutely need an excuse, here's one that nobody will question. Ever. They will not need details. They will not WANT details.

And that excuse is this:

I'm sorry, I can't. I have diarrhea.

You. Are. Welcome.