The other day I was sobbing in the bathroom at school sure that my bowels were about to drop out my butt. My pants are around my ankles and the first auto flush really was a blessing to fellow bathroom goers. Soon however I started crying in rhythm to the flushing toilet and my butt clear up to the top of my crack was soaked with toilet water - ewwwwwwwwww. When I tried to clean up the automatic sink would not turn on.. Apparently from the waist up I’m invisible!

Please please PLEASE.. For my sake, WEAR A BRA. There is nothing more painful than watching some woman bounce her way through a workout. I don’t care if you are a card carrying member of the itty bitty titty brigade - you need a bra to work out! Today some pretty petite little thing (read so perfectly delicate she was practically a fucking rosebud that made me want to vomit) was wailing on the elliptical trainer. She had maybe A’s bouncing away under a tanktop and with every bounce I wanted to scream in agony. One day she’ll get out of the shower and wonder how she got tribal titties… Just triangular flaps that hang clear down to her navel… Or some pebbles dropped in tube socks, long and pendulous, smacking together down by her knees…

Nomar is fixing to get punted out the front door. He is the cutest little dog - a Yorkie Jack Russell mix. He looks sort of like the dog from the Mighty Dog food commercials. He’s got this funny hiel Hitler straight legged walk/march thing going on. He craps on my floor. Why? Why does he crap on my floor daily? I let him out often, the back yard is just a suspicious look, pace, or whine away. He goes outside, pees and hunches like he’s pooping in the far corner of the yard. I get giddy seeing him doubled over thinking that “Hooray he’s pooping outside!” Without fail Nomar will come inside and leave me a turd treat. Yesterday he climbed up on Tessa’s bed and left me some stinky Lincoln Logs. That is the end of the line. He knows my baby sleeps there - why defile her bed? I’ve been trying to get in touch with Nomar’s previous owner, a friend of mine. I think she knows what is coming and is ducking me. If she doesn’t answer her phone soon I’m going to be forced to origami him into an airplane shape and launch him out my car window in the direction of her front door. Normally I would just find him a home, some place where someone has the time to repotty train him. However I promised my friend if he did not work out that I would give him back to her. Coming from me, you would think this would be hard… You know it’s not. I know it’s a good decision and I had a sneaking suspicion it would happen (we haven’t even bought him his dog tags yet!). So long dear Nomar. It is a far far better thing to drop dog logs in someone else home then to get drop kicked through my kitchen.

Aaron of Life and Times posed this question to me after yesterday’s blog entry. I feel compelled to answer and to ask my dear readers to post their answers too.

Karma: In Buddhist teaching, the law of karma, says only this: `for every event that occurs, there will follow another event whose existence was caused by the first, and this second event will be pleasant or unpleasant according as its cause was skillful or unskillful.’ Therefore, the law of Karma teaches that responsibility for unskillful actions is born by the person who commits them.

I do believe in Karma! I’m not a diehard Buddhist or a bible wielding Christian. I’m somewhere floating in the middle. Typically, I am disgusted by the circus show that organized religion is. Back to Karma…I believe that Karma is essential. It’s that little slice of heaven or hell before your time is up. Naughty or nice Karma counts. I don’t want to get long winded or try to convince you all that it’s my way or the highway - I’m much more laid back than that and HATE when someone tries to force their religious agenda on the rest of the world. I feel like the quoted explanation of Karma is clear. Do I think that Karma is responsible for all good and bad in the world - no. Karma, however, has definitely been a player in my life. We live our lives, feel the pangs of regret and receive the joy of helping others. Sometimes things suck, sometimes so we can learn a lesson. Sometimes when things suck, Karma swoops in and life lets up a little. Do I believe in Karma? Yes… Do you? Please comment.

My good karma must have arrived at the wrong house. Last week we started FREECYCLE - ing like we were possessed by recycling gods. In my infinite wisdom I decided that we, in fact , did NOT need 2 microwaves. DH decided to get rid of THIS one in favor of the microwave that was left by the previous owners. We thought by making the switch our days of hockey pucks and fiery popcorn were behind us. Well in one way, they are. We sent our old microwave off to live with a new family and happily started nuking things with our new-to-us microwave. Two days into our new joyous experience I was melting butter for the strawberry cupcakes. CRACKLE! POP! A blue flame appeared inside of the microwave. The distinct smell of burning poultry filled my kitchen and the microwave started making spaceship noises. I was terrified by the disco light display. I danced around screaming for a minute before I got my head on straight. Diving under the dining room table, I tore the plug from the wall. Disaster averted, we didn’t get blown to KingdomKung. We are now without a microwave.

This all came on the heels of a tragic loss. Our 5 disc DVD/CD/CD-R/MP3 player headed towards the light. As I tried desperately to get it to spit out BlockBusters’ Sleeping Beauty DVD, it gave a shudder and died with it’s mouth hanging open - that is to say it’s loading door was jammed in the half way open position, Sleeping Beauty still trapped inside. Not to be beaten by Toshiba, DH pried the cover off and cussed while he disembowled our beloved friend. Computer chips were ripped from their rightful places, cuss words were flung and needle nose pliers became our hero at last - Sleeping Beauty was set free and returned to BlockBuster several days late… So now we mourn. It’s a double wake. We are sitting Shiva, please bring food (nothing that needs to be nuked). We would watch some flicks to commemorate Toshiba’s life but alas a suitable replacement has not yet been found. RIP. And could the neighbor that stole my GOOD Karma please return it…?

* Shouldn’t having oxygen tubes stuffed up your nose 24/7 be a big hint that your automobile driving days are over?? Got stuck in traffic next to a skeleton in a checkered blazer. He and the little misses were out for a Sunday drive. She was too short to see over the dash and he was coughing and wheezing. I thought at first the oxygen tubes were those glasses gripper things to keep your massively oversized glasses from flying off but then I noticed that they trailed all the way to the back seat where his tank was set up. Creeping death had fallen asleep, these folks were moving so slow. I noticed moss growing on his north side and decided it might be best to steer clear of that lane.

* Isn’t being called “little lady” creepy? It’s so Lester the molester sounding.. It makes my skin crawl.

*I love the smell of art supplies, particularly crayons and oil bars.

*Why am I always apologizing for the condition of my house.. Oh wait I know, because it’s half done and 3/4 of my closets are NONFUNCTIONAL! ARRGG!

*Why do people Google things like:
~”nude hula”
~”tube top with sleeves”
~SEMEN BAKED into BROWNIE
~poopie diaper pics
~size “too small” spankies
~clear mucus after shoveling,exercising
~beach nakie men
*~* And why do they end up here?????

* OMG this listing on craigslist is FUCKING HILARIOUS. I just read, reread and rereread it laughing and laughing CLICK HERE to read it. THIS ONE also slayed me.. laundrogami! AHAHAHHAHHA!

My house is dirty.. I mean DIRTY. What am I doing? Scrubbing the inside of the fridge… Now sure this needs to be done but shouldn’t I take care of the black paw/kid prints on the white tile? Or the chest high pile of laundry (I’m 5ft 11in that’s A LOT of laundry). What about the mysterious yellow stains on my wanna be white counter tops? The list goes on and instead I’ve been scrubbing the inside of the fridge.. Talk about avoiding the situation.. sheesh

Nil

The Queen of Pink asked me a few posts back (CLICK HERE) what my favorite guilty pleasure is. At the time I couldn’t think of much I feel guilty about. Tonight as I worked my way through a bowl of chocolate frozen yogurt with rainbow sprinkles I figured out my favorite guilty pleasure. Jimmie… Well Jimmies or these days more well known as Sprinkles.

I try to avoid food coloring. My teeth set on edge and my skin crawls every time I have to add food coloring to something. Once a year ,when I make my red velvet cake, I cry as I pour in a full ounce of red dye. I know what sort of crazy stuff dyes do to one’s brain. Feed my nephew blue dye and you have a blonde haired blue eyed Tazmanian Devil on your hands. Jimmies ahh yes Jimmies “a wisp of sugar, oil, emulsifier and coloring.” I know they are better left to chronic smokers and crack whores who care not for their health but I love Jimmies. I would dance in them like dancing in a technicolor rain. There is nothing like smooth cold silky ice cream slipping over your tongue when you hit those luscious little speed bumps. It’s like a tongue orgasm. I know I’m not alone in this people. Stand up, be a man. Thrust your pectorals forward and shriek with delight as they roll your chilly ice cream balls in rainbow happiness. The world consumes about 50 million pounds a year, about 1.3 trillion sprinkles - give or take a few hundred million. If laid end to end, they would stretch 2.3 million miles, enough to circle the Earth nearly 100 times. I KNOW I am not alone! They make food so happy. You can’t possibly stay sad when faced with hundreds of colorful happy sprinkles. I love them so much I would roll in em. Kinda like this:

but with copious amounts of Sprinkles. This, of course, would probably produce “the beach effect” For you heartlanders who don’t know the beach, “the beach effect” is where sand gets in every crevice and orifice. You go home and are confounded when you shit sand and find it in your nostrils… Now just imagine it’s Jimmies instead… Wow, I’d be tye dyed! Can you imagine This:

spattered across my ass??