But I won’t do that. Good morning, boys and girls. We’ve got Meatloaf on the menu today, because you can never get enough Meatloaf, can you? I got the Meatloaf idea from twindaddy who got it from Squirrel, who posted it on his Facebook page. “But Alice, I thought you took Squirrel off Facebook,” asks none of you. Well, I did, but no matter how many times you try to deactivate Squirrel, he always comes back more hyper than ever. Sad Pony was totally okay with deactivation since that is his normal state anyway.
But back to Meatloaf. I admit that I like his music, well some of it anyway, because it’s so hyper-dramatic. Like me. He could sing nursery rhymes and make them sound angsty. So that’s why I am using his “I Would Do Anything For Love . . . But I Won’t Do That.” for this post. What won’t he do for love? That is a big question my friends and I have spent debating instead of doing actual work. It’s even discussed on the Internetz, but no one really knows for sure. I think Meatloaf was hedging his bets, in case the girl was into something really far out, I mean far out for Meatloaf. How many times can I say Meatloaf in one blog post? How do you think he got the name Meatloaf? Surely his mother didn’t name him that. So he chose it for himself. Why would you choose to call yourself Meatloaf? I mean, I could see Mac N Cheese, but Meatloaf?
But back to the blog post. Sleep. I would do anything for sleep. Except that. I’m not sure what that is, because when I’m really sleepy, which is most of the time except for night time, I would do just about anything for it. Even for another hour of it. I don’t care. I’m like a drug addict that way. One more hit, just one more hit of the snooze button and I swear that’s it! I’ll totally get up then zzzzzzzzzzzz.
But no, I have to get up, put on clothes, eat something and then get my children to do the same. Instead I end up in their beds because everyone needs snuggle time. So we’ve got the three of us in one bed, piled in like bears, and I’m thinking “I would do anything to stay right here for as long as possible.” But time doth marcheth on, so we have to freaking get up. Now they will have the chance, normally, to get more sleep once they are dropped off at their grandmother’s. But WILL they? No. Because they are children, and children waste summer vacation being awake.
When I spoke about Sad Pony and Squirrel to my counselor (she is totes okay with that because she is used to dealing with insane people all day), she asked me what animal I would like to be and I said house cat. Because house cats get to lie around and sleep all day. And she laughed and said she knew I was going to say that. I can’t imagine why. The great thing about cats, though, is that not only do they sleep wherever and whenever they please, they really don’t give a darn if you like it or not. They do not aim to please, cats, because they are independent, confident, and evil. So you understand why the idea of being reincarnated into a cat is so appealing to me. With my luck, I’d be reincarnated as a cockroach and immediately walk into a roach motel.
But right now I’m still Alice, so I have to find a way to stay awake all day. I have my trusty Coca-Cola. Or coke, as we call it, not pop you crazy Yankees. Yes, I’m drinking tons of coke because coffee isn’t nearly sugar laden enough, even at Starbucks. But I don’t think it’s working. My coworker just left the office and I came very close to blurting out “Good night.” And I’m wondering how comfy keyboards are, because pretty soon my face is going to be on it.
So I would do anything for sleep. Except – remember the rest of that song. Or my name. Or what planet I am on. Sleep. Just one more hour and I’m good. No I do not have a problem. I can totally do this. I can stay awake. I can k;uijaidjinknovpyh8iaowsrd
Today is the 4th of July, or “Independence Day” in America. Some people forget this is actually just a holiday in America, not the entire planet. Although, come to think of it, these days I bet Britain is also celebrating getting rid of us. I came very close to being a sesquicentennial baby (my birthday was on June 29th thanks for remembering about that super soaker I asked for oh WAIT you didn’t) as I was born in the year 1976.
Two-hundred years before my entrance into this crazy world, there were a bunch of colonists getting their pantaloons in a wad. See, Britain had paid a crapload of money to ship off people to colonize this great country that was technically already colonized by Native Americans, or “Indians” as Columbus brilliantly called them since he had the directional sense of a blind raccoon. My point is, Britain had invested lots of money in an overseas project and it was, as usual, costing a wee bit more than the government had figured it would. So they were like who else can we tax for this? We taxed the heck out of Britian already oh hey WAIT I have an idea!
So they taxed the tea they sent us. That’s right, our friggin’ TEA, people. Nevermind that we could have say, drank water; tea was our right as British citizens! The colonists didn’t want to pay the tax because we were not being represented properly in Britain. At least that sounded like a good reason not to pay taxes. If they had just allowed us to vote for people we had no clue about into office and stuff (like we do today!) we’d have been all happy and paid the tax. I’m sure of it. It’s not like people don’t like taxes or something.
So a bunch of guys (yes, guys, the women were busy washing their freaking pantaloons) got together and decided to dress up like “Indians” and dump a bunch of tea into the Boston harbor, thus beginning a long tradition of pollution. A little over two-hundred years later, another group of wackos would decide to call themselves the “Tea Party” in honor of the first people to dress up in weird costumes and pollute water in order to whine and moan about the government.
This annoyed the British (they wasted TEA dangit!) so they decided to put naughty Massachusetts under the charge of the British army. That would keep them in line. I mean there’s no way they’d still be stockpiling weapons or anything oh WAIT. So the British army confronted some local colonial militia and traded bullets. This was the “shot heard round the world” by people with incredibly good hearing. The British also didn’t like that we’d kinda made our own government too, called the Continental Congress, so they called us traitors to the crown and said now we were really totally grounded, like forever. We didn’t like that, so we decided we’d be our own nation. Suck it, mom and dad – I mean, Britain!
This “Declaration of Independence” happened on July 4, 1776 which is what we’re celebrating, not actually winning our independence from Britain. That would come in 1783 when the British finally said oh heck with it and went back to their tiny, rainy country. In between, there was a lot of bloody fighting, and we Americans love to tell the story about how our ragtag bunch of farmers defeated one of the major superpowers of the world. We’re so proud of our history that some people actually believe that July 4th is when we won independence, not when we declared it. We would also use this declaration, and the constitution and bill of rights that came after it, in practically every argument we would ever have again ever. Even if the argument is about mayonnaise.
- An ocean. We didn’t have to cross it just to go fight them.
- France. Their entering the war on our side was one big “nanner, nanner” to Britain.
- The British fought like civilized people, marching in line with bright red “I’m a target” uniforms, thus allowing us uncivilized colonists to hide in the bushes and pick them off like ducks in a barrel.
- Scurvy. The British Navy suffered great losses because they weren’t given FRUIT.
- Meanwhile, the allies of the French (Spain and the Dutch Republic) were battering Britain back home. Maybe they shouldn’t have ticked off so many other countries first . . .
That’s not all, but I’m tired so I’ll stop there. This is a day that we Americans celebrate the creation of our country. But we should also remember that we didn’t do it alone. Without Britian, many colonists wouldn’t have been here to begin with, and without the support of France, Spain, the Dutch, and many others, we probably wouldn’t have won that war. It also wasn’t independence for everyone – that would come much later for the black men and women we kept as slaves and the women of all colors whose voices we silenced. And it would come at the cost of the independence of the Native Americans.
So today we celebrate by waving our flags and being all patriotic. There will be fireworks, and parades, and barbecues, and probably more than one beer, firework, and barbecue related accident. It’s the American way.
How many people like to shop at Wal-Mart? Show of hands! Yeah, I thought so. I know there are many lib’rals who would look down at me for shopping at Wal-Mart because they are, like, the Antichrist, but until there are more lib’ral shopping centers that offer prices that people in small towns can afford, they can shut the heck up. And this is coming from a lib’ral. She happens to be a cheap lib’ral. Cause she’s poor. Good reason to be cheap.
Anyway, so we’re shopping at Wal-Mart (I know you do it when no one is looking you cannot resist that price on laundry detergent have you ever seen it so cheap I mean surely they don’t have the sweat shop children make laundry detergent, right???) which should be a simple thing to do. I mean, they have everything. When you’re created by Satan, it’s easy to offer all variety of goods at discount prices.
But it’s not so simple when you have the voice in your head. No, it’s not the kind of voice that tells me to jump off a cliff or go murder someone or just scream very loudly at nothing in particular or dance around like a toddler in a tutu. This voice is just a big jerk. It’s like Sad Pony when he’s really on his naughty sarcastic streak. The big, heavy, obnoxious pony who sits in my head and smarts off while I’m shopping. This is fun when to do while looking at ads for 1940s laxatives, but not so much when I’m trying to buy groceries.
Here’s an example. I am shopping for food. I’d like to be healthy, yet cheap, and also I’m rather picky (I do not like veggies. Veggies are for communists. But I try to eat some anyway.) So I think, hey, fruit is sweet but it’s good for you. Better than a candy bar anyway. Fruit it is. And so I’m looking at grapes and there goes Sad Pony.
This is basically how it goes, in my head. And God forbid there be the choice of more than one kind of grape. Thing Two was once convinced that green grapes were the boys and purple grapes were the girls, or vice versa. I usually get the purple because I like them better, so more than likely the green ones are better for me. I don’t know. At least there are, generally, only a few types of grapes.
Not like shampoo. Dear God, have you shopped for shampoo lately? Normally I go for cheap shampoo which means White Rain or Suave which you can get for less than a dollar sometimes. Or the knock off brand of Head and Shoulders, cause you know I’m a total flake. You can get this for a dollar too, if you shop at the Dollar Tree where everything’s a dollar, though it’s fun occasionally to ask them how much stuff costs. Don’t try it too often, though, or they might, justifiably, stab you to death with one of their .99 kitchen knives.
Today was different, though, because I have a newly minted teenager with hair from Hades. I would complain more, but I’m fairly certain she inherited that thick, unruly mess from yours truly. She’s been having trouble with tangles, by which I mean she has this enormous bird’s nest on the back of her head. She’s going to read this and then write about it later in her tell all book. I’ll be so proud. Anyway, someone told me that there was a special shampoo called “straightening” shampoo, that could knock out frizz and help with tangles.
I was all up in that stuff. So I decided to search for this shampoo. They had it. In about a thousand different brands. I looked down both aisles for the first time in a while, since generally I head right for the .98 cent Suave (green apple!) and I’m out of there. And Holy Crap there are so many different brands of shampoos and conditioners and gels and sprays, and each brand has at least ten different varieties, and each variety has ten different varieties of that variety, and so on. My brain nearly exploded. Clean up on Aisle 4.
So I wandered up, and down, and up and down picking up different products and reading the back labels. From what I could tell, all of them were supposed to do the same thing for prices ranging from around three dollars to almost fifteen. Control frizz. But how exactly were these shampoos supposed to do this? What bizarre sort of chemicals were in these things? Did sweat shop children work in chemical factories creating shampoos all day so that my thirteen-year-old can have sleek, shiny hair? Or at least hair that doesn’t balloon out like a 1970s afro, which is kind of odd on a little white girl?
I didn’t know, and I still don’t. It would not surprise me if these hair product companies are fibbing just a bit and they all have exactly the same cleaning agents in them, and you’d do about as well just scrubbing your head with a bar of cheap Ivory soap. But this was my child, and you know you do what’s best for your child, which is having her finally brush her hair before you lose your mind. So I figured I’d cover all my bases. I found Head and Shoulders shampoo with the anti-frizz crap in it and then some Vidal Sassoon (if she doesn’t look good, I don’t look good) cream junk to smear on it then comb out. We are going to tackle this monster, by golly, or my name isn’t Alice.
After I’d made my decision, I went and I got my groceries. It was hard. I wanted to drop my cart and run because suddenly Squirrel had decided to take up residence and he was all excited to get home and didn’t want to shop anymore or spend money he wanted to go home, but I shut him up too by dropping some groceries in the cart. Boom! Okay, a lunch item down. Boom, there’s my weekly diet of sugary cola – maybe I dropped that a little too hard. Boom, some fruit in little squeeze pouches that are really for small children but taste good, do not require spoons, and do not go bad like apples do. Score. Boom! Before long, I was done and heading for the 20 items or less aisle. A minute later a guy came up behind me with a newspaper. I could have let him go first. Pfft, yeah right. No way, buddy. I was done and OUT of there!
It wasn’t till I got home I remembered I forgot to go by and pick up my prescription. Again. Crap in a hat.
In case you missed the first installment of the love story between Bambi Vagina and Dick Head, and you hate yourself, click here to read. Now we continue . . .
Bambi here. SNIFF. I am SO SAD since I broke up with Dick Head on Sunday. Like, so sad there’s totally a vacuum in my head. I mean heart. And I am bereft which also means sad cause I looked it up in my thesaurus. I had to look up thesaurus too – turns out it is not a dinosaur. Anyhoo, those Holocaust guys have nothing on me because nobody has ever, ever suffered bouts of agony (thanks thesaurus!) like I have. Click to enlarge unless you like have super vision like Dick!
Even though I was SUFFERING, I still had to go to my new job. I work at the Kibbles to Bits Veterinary Clinic. My boss is named Frank N Stein. He has such an evil laugh when he cuts open animals that I can’t help but think of Dick and his spandex and his super sex powers and then I must keen quietly which makes the dogs howl at me. Bitches.
But then while I was playing Farmville on the company computer, I got an email! Zomg it was Dick Head! I said we couldn’t go out cause we broke up and I was going to see my ethnic friend Jesus’s finger paintings just as soon as I found a ride. Guess what? Dick Head said he’d drive me in the Batmobile! I’m not sure how he got it since he’s not really Batman, but who cares? Yay me! I am on cloud ten.
But like Taylor Swift says, we are never, ever like getting back together.
Dick Head and I are back together! It was so romantical! First we saw Jesus’s paintings (Psst he’s not the one from the Bible. I was confused too) and Jesus tried to pee on me to claim his territory (I think it’s a Mexican thing) but Dick beat him to it! You know what they say – golden showers bring May flowers!
After a night of passion in a giant vat of Jello, we went to a charity ball which is not a ball but a dance. He did give me some balls, though, to stuff up my hoo ha. He’s so sweet like that. At the ball I got to meet Dr. Mindbender, who is like the shrink he had in Arkham. Dr. Mindbender told me that Dick is not the Riddler pretending to be the Batman but actually Destro who pretends he is the Riddler who is thinks he is Batman.
I was so confused the balls dropped out of my hoo ha and exploded. Turns out they were vaginal bombs. I didn’t know they made those. He said he’s part of COBRA, a secret terrorist organization determined to rule the world. Also that he bought the vet clinic where I work so he could control me. I’m so confused. I’m going to make a mixed tape and think about it tomorrow.
I am so upset! Just found out that Dick’s ex girlfriend who is some Baroness from like California is trying to kill me. I’m so scared. I mean, what if Dick is still in love with her? I’d be in a world of darkness again, like that time Kimberly Kardishipan accidentally locked me in the closet.
I went to work to try and forget about my ANGUISH but Frank Stein was all huffy because I didn’t show up to work yesterday. Also, I’m behind in my blow jobs. I didn’t remember that being in the job description – I guess it’s part of that “and other duties as assigned.”
At least I get to text Dick at work. He gave me this new iPhone (product like placement!) and we texted back and forth and back and forth. Like this:
Dick: Wear r u?
Bambi: @work i wan 2 do u!
Dick: B rite ther k?
I was really excited about that text and waiting for Dick Head to show up but then it wasn’t him – it was, like, the Baroness! She said “Hello Dahlink.” Zomg it was terrible! She was PRETTY! But then Dick Head showed up and she ran away. I was so scared Dick Head had to carry me home in a Baby Bjorn and sex me up a while with the batcuffs and the batflogger and some live cobras. Then I was so comforted and we cuddled and fell asleep.
I, like, totally woke up with Dick Head after falling asleep with him last night! He was all twisted around me like a snake. Then I realized it WAS a snake – one of his pet cobras from last night.
He woke up when I screamed and then we got all excited so we DID IT again! I love how Dick smells like Summer’s Eve and spandex and Dick. He is so hot and I am SO in LOVE and my split personalities danced around like toddlers.
But I had to go to work even on a Saturday! Like, so annoying! Dick said it was too dangerous to go to work. But I am totally an independent girl, just like Barbie, so I went anyway.
It was kinda weird, cause there weren’t any customers or pets or anything, just Frank N Stein. He wanted to put these little wires all over me and tie me to a table but I said NO cause only Dick Head can do experiments on me, I mean GAWD. I went back to the apartment I share with Kimberly Kardishipan. She’s totally off on vacation with Dick Head’s brother Shitt Head – I think he’s French or something.
But when I got inside there was the Baroness again! Zomg she looked even hotter than before! Also she had a gun! She started talking all crazy like, saying Dick was a terrorist and would probably totally kill me so I should run away. So she could get him herself I bet! No way!
But like a good neighbor, Dick Head was there! He said “Big Mac” and she just fell over. Turns out – she was a robot! From the future! I am just so confused. How did they make a robot so pretty?
I am so ANGUISHED again. Dick Head has his own robot, so why would he want me? I was sad enough to go to work, even though it was still like the weekend. Huh.
Frank N Stein was alone again! What were the chances? This time he didn’t even talk to me, he just strapped me down to this table and started pulling these switches and knobs and I got a little worried cause I was wearing my Ralph Lauren dress and it’s totally short and might show my butt and only Dick gets to see my butt. I texted Dick with my teeth (I’m good with my teeth).
Bambi: Hlp! Save me, k?
Dick: Bach Pad on – l8tr baby
Bambi: K. Tivo pls?
Frank N Stein put some thingys on my head and shot a bunch of electricity into my skull. It was far out. He said he wanted to make my synapses work, I think. I asked “What are synapses” and he cried like a big baby. When Dick Head came to save me, he was just sitting there saying “Why, why, why?”
Frank N Stein was totally fired so guess what? I am now the head vet! I did, like, surgery on this cat and removed some spongy thing – I don’t think it was important. Later I couldn’t find my Iphone, but the cat kept ringing.
Dick picked me up and said he had somewhere special to take me! Turned out it was the Fortress of Solitude which he said he got a good deal on when Superman left. He says he wants it to be our house and then he proposed marriage to me! Zomg!
I like, totally want to marry Dick, but he’s like this terrorist who pretends he’s the Riddler who thinks he’s Batman. I don’t have quite enough personalities to keep up with that. What to do? What to do?
Dick Head and I are, like, engaged! I am SO happy I could pee! He took apart the Baroness and shipped her back UPS and Frank ran away so he’s no worry anymore and Dick said he is totally quitting Cobra, that terrorist organization, and he’s not going to be a super villain anymore either. He is CHANGED by my hoo-ha! I mean love!
Stay tuned for my happy ever after, k?