Monster Mash

From my mother-in-law, the werewolf:

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You never know who will take your photos and do something nefarious and funny with them.

And yes...that's my real hair.

Oreo Cookie Blues

Goofing around with pandora.com, I came across this song on the Stevie Ray Vaughan station I created.

Too funny.

Jury Duty

The Circuit Court of my county has a thing for me. They keep inviting me to Jury Duty. I think they have a complex. I have turned them down at least three times by now. This stalkerish behavior should really be reported. I was thinking of getting a restraining order against the Clerk of the Circuit Court, asking him to please stop hounding me. I do not want to sip coffee, in Styrofoam cups, with little red stirrers, in a dark paneled room, with fluorescent lighting, with you. I am married. Not Available. Not Interested. No matter how sexy your plastic nameplate is, I have no desire to see you. Please, stop calling me.

Ahhh....but then I was confounded by cleaning my house. I stacked together miscellaneous papers in a neat little pile on the counter--papers that needed to be filed away, papers that needed to be hung on the refrigerator, and most importantly--papers that needed to be returned with an X in a tiny, little box stating that I have a child under age six, for whom I am the primary caregiver, so please let me go so that I can supervise my child and make sure he doesn't light himself on fire or stab his eyes with scissors while making an art project. Yes, that important paper sunk to the bottom of the paper pile, hiding inconspicuously amongst the insurance paperwork, primitive drawings and pizza coupons....silent and still...until it shouted into my brain yesterday,"JURY DUTY!!! YOU FORGOT TO MAIL ME IN!....NANA...NANA...BOO BOO! IT'S TOO LATE FOR YOU YOU!"

And so, Mr. Clerk of the Circuit Court, you will finally be able to bring me to your lair and force me to be part of your dastardly schemes. I have been undone by hasty housecleaning.

You'd better have cream and sugar for my coffee!

Total Body Disintegration Now Available In A Variety Of Flavors

I came across this story while perusing the news and upped my husband's life insurance policy. It turns out that soda is very, very bad for your cells and DNA.

Despite his otherwise healthy appearance, he has been consuming large quantities of poison soda. When his cell membranes disintegrate and he lies on the floor, a mushy pool of amino acids, I will sadly tell him, "I told you so!"

A Cheesy, Rhyming Ode To My Husband

A not-so-serious attempt to immortalize my husband in very bad, rhyming couplets! ;-)


The warmth and love my heart had felt,
as you changed our broken vacuum belt,
and replaced the leaking toilet flapper,
dressed in clothing oh so dapper,
reminded me of who I chose,
to face the many highs and lows,
upon the unknown path we tread,
with kids and bills and constant dread,
of home repairs and busted lights,
of long, hard days and sleepless nights
love alone our binding tether,
the duct-tape of our lives together.

Please don't revoke my English degree! Poor Shakespeare is ripping his ears off in his grave.

Captions....

I think you're full of it!

What would your caption be?