First, let me say that blogging via iPhone isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be. I could go to the computer and sit down and write, but I’m too lazy and I like the challenge of typing this shit out on tiny keys, especially when you try and type a word and the ingenious software changes your word to something else you weren’t expecting.

So anyway.

Apparently, I have an addiction and not something that will land me on Intervention – no crystal meth or heroin… just Diet Coke.

Some people are chain smokers – I’m a chain drinker. I can easily down a 12 pack a day if it weren’t so damn expensive… You’d think the Coca Cola Company could cut hard working Americans a break, especially in this recession. I mean really – when I’m about to slit my wrists because my investments are sinking faster than the Titanic, I need a Diet Coke in order to calm down and regroup and figure out if I’m going to have to turn to prostitution in order to make ends meet. I think I may try and give up Diet Coke for the upcoming Lent season. I’m not Catholic – but I either need more Jesus or a serious Intervention, not that A&E would have me.


I saw the jogging midget again so either I really saw a jogging midget the first time or had the exact same amount of hallucinatory medication and while some people choose to fabricate white elephants with pink spots, I see jogging midgets who enjoy running on freeway overpasses.

We have no Super Bowl plans.  My Super Bowl plans fell to hell when the Cowboys wussed out in the Philadelphia game and lost 44-6.  I personally think Tony Romo was just thinking about where he was going on vacation with Jessica Simpson once the game had ended.  I don’t hate the Cowboys for throwing this season down the tubes in the last four or five games of the season…. The Cowboys will have plenty of time to build a decent special teams and for God’s sake get some decent backup help for Tony Romo – I mean, when he’s out – get someone who can throw a football for the love of sunny Jesus!

I root for the underdog and that’s why I’m rooting for the Arizona Cardinals tomorrow.  For them to win tomorrow, it would be as good as last year when the Giants stunned the Patriots and ruined their perfect season.  I’d be very happy to see Arizona kick ass tomorrow.

On a somewhat related note – I watched Heat on tv earlier today – you know, the Al Pacino/Robert De Niro movie.  Al Pacino is the hero cop and Robert De Niro is the criminal and we all know crime is bad, but every time I see the movie, I can’t help myself… Robert De Niro is stunningly attractive in his starched white shirts and the way he is in control of every situation.  He’s got that intelligence – much like Dr. Evil where you are an actual doctor and choose to be evil.  I think because he’s a criminal, but sensitive and caring and a sharp dresser and has that sexy goatee – I want things to work out well for him.  I want him to come to his senses and know that knocking off banks isn’t right and that he should start a travel agency – because people need to get out and see the world.  So, **spoiler alert** I really get bummed when Robert De Niro’s character gets shot at the end of the movie.  He and Eady should have taken off together and started off on a wonderful life with a big travel agency and home based marketing consultation business.

Is it me or does anyone else enjoy watching the extras in movies?  I’m watching a Knight’s Tale and I swear I get a kick out of the sword fight scene when Paul Bettany goes on about Heath Ledger and the extras stop cheering – but there are two women in the background who start cheering too soon and raise their arms…. it’s really quite funny.  Apparently, none of the extras could speak English and didn’t know what was going on.  They were probably all strung out on methamphetamine or rufees.

And on a separate note – I’m starting a movement to keep Christmas trees up all year around.  I’ve still got mine up complete with ornaments and lights.  I think I can keep this going until April at the very least.  Maybe I’ll just put all the other decorations, like Christmas stockings, away and keep the tree up because you never know when you’ll need a pre-lit, decorated Christmas tree for that special holiday celebration.  Christmas trees are holiday trees anyway – so why can’t I use it for my Valentine’s Day or St. Patrick’s Day celebration?  This is the argument I’m giving my husband.  At least the tree hides the fact that I haven’t done laundry and I’ve been wearing the same pants for two weeks.  Well, not two weeks and it’s just pajama bottoms but I seriously need to get some laundry done.

That’s it.

I’ve decided that I suck and not suck in a good way that makes you popular if you get what I’m saying, but I suck as in the weird kid in the back of the classroom who has a lazy eye and eats pocket lint.  Speaking of that kid, I think I actually know him and every time he comes to my office he creeps me out so bad that I’ve offered to be the lesbian lover for a single co-worker of mine – even though I’m married and wear a wedding ring but I don’t really think he’s bright enough to catch that anyway.

So anyway – I’m not really popular, cool or exciting and it’s got me bummed.  I’m like the kind of person that you invite to the party not because I’m a fashionista or know a bunch of crap about world politics – I mean, I at least know that Obama made president so I’m caught up that way…. other than that – I have no interest in politics.  Just keep me safe, Mr. President and like keep the economy going so I can have my little job and I can make a little money and we’ll be okay.  Anyway – back to the point.  I’m the person you invite to the party because when I’m off my medication, I’m a friggin blast to be around.  I say whatever I want and because I’m unmedicated, I just go off without a filter.  I say all sorts of embarrassing stuff – usually about myself and things that other humans shouldn’t know – and it’s really funny and people laugh at me which makes it much worse and I just say more unfiltered stuff and it just occurred to me that maybe it’s not laughing because I’m funny – maybe it’s laughing in that way like you do when something is very sad and pathetic and you are too polite and just kind of laugh in an awkward way to smooth the situation over but the whole time you are tugging your husband’s arm and counting down the minutes until you can leave.


I am pathetic. and not popular. or cool. or exciting.  Yep.  I’m just like the kid – lazy eye, eating pocket lint and humming the theme to Sesame Street.

Can we all agree that there are enough commercials for things that – shall we say – should remain private?  I mean, I like Elvis and I get psyched when I hear Viva Las Vegas kick up on a commercial only to get blindsided when it’s a band of old guys and they are singing Viva Viagra.  Come on.  And then all day, I’m stuck with Viva Viagra running through my brain.  Or how about the commercial where the couples are sitting in separate bathtubs and they are holding hands and watching the sunset… it seems that the object of male enhancing medication is so you aren’t watching the sunset in two different tubs.  Those are probably people who never had kids to begin with because it just seems that their logic is all wrong and they are probably not bright enough to figure out how the baby making thing goes.  But seriously – I can handle medication commercials… I hate seeing those smiling guy commercials or the ones that are for the non FDA approved male enhancements – who is buying that crap?  I guarantee, I’m adventurous and I’ll try a lot of stuff but when it comes to enhancing certain parts of my body, I’m going to trust that the federal government knows what is good for me and if they don’t put their seal of approval on something, it’s not going in me or on me or near me or even in the same house as me because you can never return that kind of crap – they already disconnected the phone and packed the office up and moved to some place in southeast Asia.

I guess the commercials that I really hate to see are those things for feminine supplies and I mean the whole gamut of supplies – things that are advertised for “itch and odor”… how.flipping.nasty.and.disgusting.  I think I just vomited a little into my mouth.  Those kinds of products are the things that you know are there and you know where to go when you need those kinds of things.  I don’t think now is the time to start celebrating feminine hygiene in advertising and I guarantee I wouldn’t want to be in marketing and win some kind of award for the most creative use of tampons in a television commercial although that would be a little fun to watch – almost like a high school science project where they give you a product and see what you can build using it.

I’m starting a campaign to move the more delicate side of human relations back behind closed doors because that way it will free up more air time for that hilarious E-Trade baby with the Blackberry.  That’s a hoot.  If you’re on board with my campaign, sign up below.

Jesus is more physically fit than me which shouldn’t come as any surprise to anyone who knows me.  Apparently, most little people are more physically fit than me too – I was driving home from Walmart tonight and saw a little person jogging and I almost had a wreck because I was surprised but I also thought that I might have been on Punk’d or something because it’s not everyday that you see a little person jogging on a freeway overpass in a complete jogging wardrobe

So – I got a Wii for Christmas and a Wii Fit and I made a Jesus character because I figured Jesus might give me a laugh every now and then and keep me motivated to do well with my working out plans but it’s extremely disconcerting to see Jesus in the bowling alley lane next to me or as I’m doing a one person jog, Jesus laps me and smiles as he runs off.  If Jesus gets a kick out of seeing me suffer, it makes me wonder if it’s a sign to hang up my remote and nunchuck and get back to more important things like Dr. 90210.

And while I’m thinking of stuff that I’m not good at – I am definitely not a good “name-this-tune-and-or-singer” guesser especially when it’s music that I’ve never heard or been interested in.  I’m also not good at faking being interested in something, especially when I have a killer headache.  

There is a part of me that thinks “working out” on the Wii Fit is a little bit of a cop out.  Exercising shouldn’t be fun – it should be hard and not something you can do at home plus it should be embarrassing like the kind of embarrassing you get when you see a spandex clad big fat person in front of you at the bakery and that person gets like two dozens chocolate glazed donuts and a Diet Coke.  I’m not going to a gym until I loose at least 50 pounds because I don’t want the attention and by attention I mean people staring at me like you do when you pass the scene of a terrible car accident and you’re just hoping to see a severed head over in the grass or something.

I don’t know what it is but I think Mike Rowe from Dirty Jobs is really hot in a tough, rugged sort of way.  Plus, he’s funny and a fantastic singer.

I sincerely thought my brain was going to explode.  I think it was just a random Saturday afternoon swelling or something.  My ear has been hurting all day which lead to my brain hurting and there wasn’t anything that I could do about it since I had already taken two Imitrex.

Random thought:  Can I say Imitrex on my blog?  I know that’s like a restricted copyrighted logo thingy so if I don’t want to pay royalties or get sued, does  that mean I need to refer to Imitrex by it’s generic name or like by a “fake name”.  You know how they always black a letter out on a product on tv shows – like “-heat Thins” or “Shast-” not that I’ve seen Shasta on tv lately and it’s not like everyone in tv land doesn’t know what a box of Wheat Thins looks like.  I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been to the grocery store looking for Diet Coke-like generic alternatives that I saw on the latest episode of Friends.  I guess when I talk about Imitrex now I’ll just go ahead and cover myself and say “Skimitrex” and then Ritalin can be “Skitalin” and Vicodin can be “Icodinvay” because I think Pig Latin is making a comeback, baby.

Yeah, so – I had already taken my limit of “Skimitrex” (see how seemless that was) for the day and I’m still having a headache that’s much worse than my scary-bitch-from-PMS-hell day plus some sort of earache or some mutant, killer alien with fangs the size of chopsticks was lodged in my ear.  Having intense and excruciating ear/head pain makes you re-evaluate life goals.  I haven’t been nearly as successful as what one would hope, especially my mom and she never fails to remind me that I’m wasting my potential and I couldn’t agree more – I’m to the age where I hope the guy at the liquor store cards me but I’m afraid they all know I’m well past 21 and I’m still stuck in an entry level job which just got much worse this week and I might as well be an 89-year-old working at “McDoogals” and emptying the trash and cleaning up after a party full of 5-yr-olds.  Or a door greeter at “Walfart” where you have to take orders from a punk 22-yr-old parolee who thinks this job is the ticket to stay out of jail.

So I spent the afternoon writing my will.  I was supposed to clean house and crap and because-I-had-a-killer-alien-with-fangs-the-size-of-chopsticks-eating-on-my-brain I got a reprieve until tomorrow – at least that’ s what the master says but I used the afternoon to decide that I’m tired of being a nobody and when I die, which might be soon (see above – alien, chopstick fangs, etc), I want to give what I have to my husband.  We’re married and have been for years so I guess when I die, he was first in line to get all of it anyway.  Besides, probably aren’t too many people who are interested in lint collections and hundreds of bottles of expired medications – Skimitrex, Skitalin, Icodinvay.  Suddenly I have an urge to taste the rainbow – which sounds a little skeezy but I’m no marketing executive or anything.  If I were, I’d all be like – Vicodin.  It makes the world a better place.  And I guess that’s why I like the Happy Bunny little cartoon because he says the things that most normal, decent people would never say out loud.

And let me ask this:

– Who is surprised that Kendra Wilkinson cheated on Hef for sex?  Really?  Why is this news?

– Um,  anyone catch the vagina shots of Madge up for auction at Christie’s?  Let me tell you, if I didn’t need my eyeballs so much, I’d gouge them out and eat them like the death row prisoner in Texas.

– Tom Hanks is a hypocrite.  Why give the Mormons so much crap for being against Proposition 8?  I’m not saying I agree or disagree but if the Mormons want to spend money and time to get people to be on their bandwagon then I don’t think there is anything wrong with that… after all, that’s what Hollywood A-listers are all about… they spread their money and time to make us regular folk jump on board with whatever topic is the flavor of the month.

– Even though Gregory House is a fictional character and an ass, he’s still a good fake doctor and I sometimes wish I were a hot hooker so House would call looking for a good time, because he would find my number on a stall in the men’s room after having a bad round of diarrhea or something.  It’d be a great story line either way because I’m a blast to be around.