I have this post all ready to go, but — okay, has anyone noticed the nose-picking dude on the right frame area of our blog? The Decant City ad? I keep trying to decide if it’s some sort of elaborate practical joke. If the senior-level management of this highly regarded blog weren’t in the Outer Banks right now, doing Jell-O shots off her husband’s belly and blowing off her emails, I’d consult her. Check it out — you can buy a decant of Chupa Chups. And a whole ton of other bizarre stuff. What do you think? Real? Or some sort of post-ironic joke I’m too dumb to get? Check out the description of Delirivm — I mean, that has to be a joke, right? Right? No, seriously, what do you think? Also that image is starting to freak me out a little, along with the yellow snow quote.
Anyway, the mantle of Trashy Friday has fallen on me, and I don´t watch TV. Well, I watch a little. I’m pretty up to date on all the episodes of Bob the Builder and Higglytown Heroes. And I can offer you a link to the excellent Boohbah interactive — make them dance! They change colors! You can play weird, pointless games with them … hey, do you think this show’s creators spent a little too much time going to raves?
… but I digress. You know how you´re googling around, looking for that particular picture of Kevin Federline that gives you those delicious heebie-jeebies, and you click through some blog you´ve never seen before, and then you click on a link to another blog, and then you´re reading something really funny and/or weird, and you can´t even remember how you got there?
Well, first there´s that picture of K-Fed. Here it is.
I have to google it periodically and look at it, for no good reason, really, other than my own freaky amusement. (And now you´re looking at it! Hah hah! Eyeworm! You´re infected!) I mean à¢â‚¬¦ what is that? Is it the braids? The shades? The overall Skeeve Factor that´s probably burning a hole in your retinas right now? I just Cannot. Get. Enough. Of that picture. I want to give Britney a hug and say, hon, look at you — you’re, what, 22?! You can pop that new baby out and get your cute figure back in nothing flat! So do yourself a big ol’ favor and Call Your Lawyers. Don’t worry, you and Pimp Daddy can work something out, just get out the checkbook. I bet he already has a number in mind. Just, please, for the love of all that’s good and holy, change the locks and stop having sex with that loser! That K-Fed photo is like looking at a train wreck.
Or Jerusalem crickets. Lord, I love those crickets! They look like big-eyed, bald-headed, hand-sized flesh-eating alien babies, only uglier! I remember the day Number One Daughter, still a toddler, brought me one of those babies cradled in the plastic shovel, straight from her sandbox, and showed it to me proudly — look, mommy, one of Satan´s Minions! Of course, I was still heavy into my cool-Santa-Fe-earth-mommy phase, so I said something like, wow! That´s really interesting! Meanwhile I´m thinking, oh à¢â‚¬¦ my à¢â‚¬¦ God — getthatthingawaaaaaaaaayyyyfrommerightNOW! I dropped Satan´s baby into a baggie (it was dead) and took it to the local ag extension office, where they ID´d it for me. The locals called them Children of the Earth (in Spanish), which sounds so much more mellifluous than what I was calling themà¢â‚¬¦
But I digress. Again. Here´s a link to a post about tearing up those credit card applications that I´m going to share it with you. I guess I found it particularly interesting because we get, like, five of these a day à¢â‚¬” enough so that all three girls have toy wallets full of those fake Platinum Cards. After I read this we went out and bought a shredder.
Anyway, happy Friday! Remember, don´t touch the crickets! They bite! Oh, the winner of L’Artisan is Carol; I’ll grab your email address from the dashboard and contact you for your address, since Patty’s out of town…