Shitflag update

Apparently, installing shitflags in the poo next to your garage will do a few things.

1. Amuse you
2. Amuse your neighbors
3. Deter new poos

It will NOT get the boys across the alley to clean up the initial offending shits.

Oh well.

Live and learn.

Top-notch marketing again, Dollar Tree!

Who WOULDN'T want to eat a breakfast cereal named after the action a dog takes to drag its ass across the floor?

Why these aren't all over the DIY boards on Pinterest, I'll never know

Too cheap and lazy to find and buy Truck Nutz?

Make. Your. Own!

String a couple of ball mounts (no pun intended--ok, well maybe a little bit) on a length of chain and you're GOOD TO GO! 

$5 at the Dollar Store and my twist on being neighborly

My neighbors across the alley are two fellas in their late teens/early twenties. They don't usually pay too much heed to HOA rules, which is fine--you might have noticed I'm not a fan of the HOA either.

However... Some things, HOA or no, are just common courtesy.

The boys across the alley have a huge dog. Had I not actually seen the dog, I'd have reason to believe they're stabling a miniature donkey over there. You've never seen such enormous piles of shit in your life.

And the reason I'VE seen them is that THEY NEVER CLEAN THAT SHIT UP. And Fido's prime shitting action happens right next to my garage. It's a fucking minefield out there.

I've put up with it for awhile, but I'm sick of it. Beau suggested I scoop it all and leave it on their front porch, which is tempting. But that could lead to backlash; it's not like they don't know where I live.

So I decided to do something that would make me laugh and get the point across. I bought pinwheels, paper bells, and clear tape at the dollar store and enlisted Beau's artistic help in making some charming little signs.

And then, I planted a pinwheel in each pile of dog shit.

I. Shit. You. Not.

I crap myself up sometimes.

I'll keep you posted on any results.

You had me at hello

I was on my way out the door this morning when I realized that I needed something to peruse over my lunch hour (yes, I read for a living and then, for a break, I eat lunch and read some more--yes, my life is a glamorous one).

I picked up a food magazine without glancing at the cover, stuffed it in my bag, and left.

While I heated up my can of Progresso soup and dug into a box of Girl Scout cookies (glamor overload? Sorry. I'll try to tone it down for you little people out there), I took a look at the magazine.

HELLO! Come to mama!!!

Yes, it's an entire issue devoted to my favorite food group.

• 50 mac & cheese recipes!
• An article that explores aaaaaaall of the (edible) things you can dip into fondue!
• A map of all the best places to get and eat cheese across this great nation of ours!
• How. To. Make. Your. Own. Cheese. (In 30 minutes!)

The best part was an article about how cheese is actually good for your health because certain varieties might help stop cancer, make you smarter, support your heart, keep your bones strong, and help prevent type 2 diabetes!

Never has one magazine given one girl such joy!

I might put some of the articles into frames or just bronze the whole damn thing.

Guess what I'm having for dinner tonight! And tomorrow night! 

Another weird dream

I dreamt my boss called me in to a meeting and told me We've come to the conclusion that being Lead Copyeditor might be a little much for you. But don't worry, we're going to give you a new task. 

He slides a book across the table to me. I open it up and find a lot of scribbles inside.

What's this? I asked.

We're going to put you in charge of ordering the breakfast burritos each morning.

We don't get breakfast burritos each morning. 

No, YOU don't get breakfast burritos each morning. The rest of us do. 

I pick up the book and can't make heads or tails of it.

Ok, I guess I'll just jump in. What kind of breakfast burrito do you want? 

He proceeds to give me a complicated answer that's not breakfast burritoey at all.

That's not even a burrito! I exclaimed.

Then he raised his eyebrows and wrote something down on a pad in front of him (something like Can't even order a simple breakfast burrito, I'm sure).

Then I woke up in a cold sweat.

When I told him about the dream the next morning at work, he laughed.

So I think I'm in the clear.

Right? 

Give me the fat a million times over

If it's between this...

And THIS.

This morning, I looked up into the clouds

And saw a cloud in the shape of Snoopy's buddy Woodstock.

After he'd been killed, plucked, and hung in a Chinatown window.

It was then that I really started to wonder about myself.

Did anybody ELSE see that this morning?

Sit on this!

Beau went to a Super Bowl party at a friend's house last night (I stayed close to home to avoid the drunks on the road).

His buddy has very interesting decorating tastes.

This is the picture of a chair I got. There are two of them, apparently.

I need to rethink my home decor.

From the superhero files down under

My friend Jen lives and works in Melbourne, Australia.

The only thing that sucks about her is the fact that she moved so far away from me, but I'll stop whining.

She told me that she'd recently had to give a written reprimand to one of her direct reports regarding his abuse of his corporate credit card.

He, in turn, went to HR, claiming that she sent him to the hospital due to the unfair treatment.

Jen can send folks to the hospital WITH HER MIND!

Watch your asses, Aussies. She walks among you.