And the letters are F and U! Just kidding! No, it’s Merry’s birthday and she did a post for me, which means I should do one for her. My post-making has not been awesome lately, but you do what you have to do, even if it is literally on the day it’s due. So I made her a picture and stuff, cause I couldn’t even make the balloons on Facebook. I tried, but it kept trying to make me celebrate my OWN birthday, which I didn’t want to do again, especially when it was her turn. I hate Facebook and their stupid celebration stuff. Boo.
She’s 42 today! Which is awesome, cause that means she’s made it 42 years even with death and disease and terrorism and Trump! I mean, you think of ALL the things that could kill you literally any second and it’s amazing any of us are here! We could get run over by trucks today! Wait. This does not sound like a birthday post. Sorry!
In all seriousness, I do count Mer among my best friends because even though we haven’t met in person, like my other close friends, she has been here for me. Sometimes more than others can cause she’s on the other side of the screen all the time. Well, not all the time, I mean she goes to the bathroom and sleeps, but often she’s there. And she helps me through the day. Which is all any of us can do. What with genocide and hurricanes and all.
We met with a Fruitcake award, and made ourselves super heroes, and we are still hanging out, even if it’s on the web. So happy birthday to my Wonder Twin. And many more!
Saying we don’t have the Apocalypse! We can share a bunker!
Hi, all! You may not remember (I didn’t) but two years ago I wrote a post entitled “Ten Things to Do With a Picked Booger”. It wasn’t that impressive, booger-wise, just a top ten list. This post generated a lot of comments, as most of my highly intellectual posts do, but just the other day it got a new comment! I am always excited to see new comments, especially when they are like this one. I’m not even sure how to describe it. Let’s say it’s better than the comment on the Dragon Tail’s Review post in which I was called a “40-year-old farthead”. See for yourself!
This is my first response to dear Dorman. I have so much to say. First off, thank you for making a simple blogger very happy. I haven’t had such a good laugh in a while. Here are some other questions, off the top of my head.
- What exactly was your “random search”? Was it for boogers? Do you search the Internet looking for posts to grammar check? Specifically booger posts?
- Did you like my fragments there? Feel free to point out other errors. I will save them up in my heart.
- You realize this was a post about boogers, right?
- I do have advanced degrees. I have a B.A. and an M.A. in English and an MLS in Library Science. I like to collect degrees, then completely ignore them.
- Thanks for letting me know that I can improve my comedic timing with a couple of well-placed colons and apostrophes. I bet you are a laugh a minute: really!
- Do and not do not equal don’t. They equal “donot”, or using the proper English spelling, “donut”.
- You aren’t Shakespeare and, thusly, do not sally forth.
- My Corps of Creative Types can beat up your honor student.
If you think this comment was bizarre all by itself, then get ready. I showed this comment to a few people, and my old friend begged to answer it. Ravin’s response was, to my delight, followed by more responses by Dorman. Thank you so much for not just performing a drive-by grammar run. This is much better.
You can check the original post for all the comments at the bottom of the page, though they are unbelievably, and hilariously, long. We are talking my lawyer friend with the genius I.Q. versus a blogger who probably sleeps with a grammar text. This is the kind of thing you just can’t make up.
I do have some quotes I’ll use with proper quotations (or close enough). My friend informed Dorman that I had advanced degrees. Response: “George “Dubya” Bush has “advanced degrees”. You’re misinterpretation of my gentle nudge is sad, and likely testosterone-fuelled.”
I’m wondering how exactly ol’ (see what I did there!) Dorman knew my friend was male, much less infused with lots of testosterone. We’re talking a grammar argument here. These are not generally considered overtly masculine. I’ve never heard Arnold Schwarzenegger engage in one during a fire-fight. I’m not even sure what sex Dorman is, so I’ll just refer to Dorman with the pronoun “it” until I have confirmation.
Here’s some other good ones. Ravin suggested Dorman leave as we were all full up with crazy. Response: “You’re entirely correct: ’cause “aliceatwonderland” is waaaaaaaaaaay overstocked.” Thanks, Dorman! Crazy was exactly what I was aiming for, but you helped!
One last bit from my new friend.
I hope you, my readers, are properly educated by this post. If you glance at the old post, you’ll see that some of you were there! Ah, what a long, twisted, twisted road we’ve walked metaphorically. Anyhoo, please leave comments below. Hopefully Dorman will come back!
P.S. Dorman: My generation was not born with I-Pads and such. We were born in the mid 1970s, so I guess you could call us “flower infants”. How old are you? Congrats on mastering the keyboard!
Note: This is not a post furthering an agenda. Unless that agenda is “Try not to be evil.”
I’m sure most people know about the Orlando shooting by now. I didn’t until just this morning because I tend to avoid news outside of what pops up uninvited on Facebook while I am talking to friends on chat. I had just discovered the brilliant workaround of placing a napkin over the fb news box when I started chatting with my pal Merbear. First we discussed our emotional states (meh) and how to scramble eggs properly (I cannot even accomplish this) and what we were currently eating (Me: waffles. Her: An English muffin with sausage and cheese – just in case you were wondering). She had just written a post on the tragedy, and was more than a little bummed that our world seems to be going straight to Hades.
“It’s simple, evil exists.” she said. “How do we fight evil? How?”
I’ve had difficulty writing lately. It’s hard to see outside of a sad pony, and often you turn inward. My plan was to try to pull out a post for my daughters’, because Thing Two just had a birthday on the 10th (12 years old?) and Thing One will turn 16 (16 years old?????) on the 17th. Then I realized that even with the depressing subject matter, I could do both. Mer mentioned that she wouldn’t want to bring children into this world now. I agreed, but then I thought of my own kids who are here now. I felt badly for them, for all the violence and hatred that they have faced, and will face. But then I remembered that they are the answer on how to fight evil. You fight evil with good, and hope, and love. I know, I don’t normally talk like I’m farting out skittles (as Merry would say), but it is the truth.
The other day we were driving and a man stood on the corner with a sign. As usual I tried not to make eye contact. I never know what to do in that situation. It’s kind of dangerous to just hand out money to someone while you’re driving – you might get hit by someone. Plus I wonder if it will do any good at all. One dollar? Five dollars? I don’t know. But when I looked behind me I saw that Thing One had her hands grasped in prayer. I thought it was because I’d just called her, in a friendly type way, a little twit for something. But no, she was praying for the man. Because, as she said, he’d asked for prayers.
No fanfare. No look at me I’m praying! I’d have never noticed if I hadn’t looked back. Sure, you might say, it’s just a prayer. She didn’t go out and invite the homeless person into our car so we could get him a room at the Hilton with a free breakfast. But she did do something that too many Americans aren’t doing enough of today. She took a few minutes out to think about someone else’s misfortune. Her sister is equally sincere in her empathy for others, often challenging those who bully others. I try to be a good mom, but that’s not all me. A lot of that is just who they are. And it is those values that will give them hope to keep going, to keep offering kindness, and to make a difference in this world.
And they, thankfully, are not the only ones. A line of people formed around a blood donation bank early the next morning. This was symbolic not only of thinking of others, but of doing something about it. They were giving blood for the blood lost. It will be too late for the 50 victims of this tragedy, but not for the many injured people today, and those who may sadly be shot tomorrow. As John Oliver says, “The terrorists are vastly outnumbered.” I’ll show you a clip, because he says this all better than I do.
I saw much discussion in the comment sections of articles on Facebook. As usual, many have turned to politics. Either wanting to take guns or have more guns or complaining about the agenda to have guns or not have guns, or just blaming it all on Obama like they do the mayonnaise shortage at your local Subway. Certainly the fact that it was a gay club, and the terrorist was Islamic played into the response in places. But that – as I stated above – is not what I’m getting into right now, although I easily could (and have). It’s about the basic question: How do we fight evil? Hint: It’s not in a political argument on Facebook.
It’s in thinking of others. It’s in doing for others. It’s in following the greatest commandment no matter what your faith: Love one another. Even if all you do is buy a coke for one person feeling down (you don’t have to buy a coke for the entire world), you did something. You made a difference. We all make a difference, all the time, with our words and actions. For good or for bad, we make a difference. Let’s try to make the right difference. Here’s just a few more examples of what people have done for the victims in Orlando, Florida, from the Orange County sheriff’s office.
We thank the legions of supporters who are reaching out to the Orlando community!!
As the investigation remains active and open in the horrific Pulse nightclub mass shooting, here are some resources and links available to the public.
•Orlando officials are identifying the victims and notifying their families. The names of the victims will be added to this link: http://www.cityoforlando.net/blog/victim….
•The Department of Veterans Affairs is providing emergency mental health assistance to Veterans, employees, and the general public in wake of the mass shooting. An Orlando VA Medical Center Mobile Medical Unit is located at the Beardall Senior Center, 800 Delaney Ave, Orlando, 32801, or call 321-277-6672.
• Blood donations — OneBlood has reached capacity for blood donations, so no further donations are immediately needed. However, anyone interested in making an appointment to donate in the near future can go to oneblood.org/donate-now/ or call 1.888.9Donate.
•Funds for victims and families — Equality Florida has set up a GoFundMe page at Gofundme.com/PulseVictimsFund.
I wish my beautiful daughters good luck in the future. It may look dim now, but they will add brightness. Because they are my Things. They are my antidote to despair. They are my reason for hope. I love them both, and wish them a happy birthday.
It occurred to me a few posts back that someone coming upon this blog for the first time might not realize I like to parody annoying, stupid people and use heaping doses of sarcasm on a regular basis. That would mean they would read something like say, my last post (Don’t worry, you get another chance!) and think that I am a really big racist. I’m not (I mean not a BIG racist anyway) I just like to parody the worst of America. Everyone else is going to do it; I might as well join in.
Dave Barry had this problem when he wrote for the Miami Herald, despite the newspaper clearly stating that he was, in fact, a humor columnist. He wrote “Mr. Language Person”, a column in which he purposely murdered the English language. Every time he’d get letters from people who were very offended that he was teaching incorrect grammar. So he wrote another column in which he explained what was B.S. and what wasn’t. I figured I’d try the same thing by taking my last post and using helpful ellipsis in red (closed captioning!) for those who are sarcasm impaired. I realize this is a repeat for some – in that case you can always just read the red parts – like in the Bible they’re the best!
*********(Warning: This Might Look Familiar) ********
I was driving to work today, and singing along to a song from the Disney movie Lilo and Stitch, because – I’m me. (note: weird) I like the Hawaiian songs, so naturally try to sing along (key word is “try”), even though I do not speak Hawaiian (I know “Aloha”), so it sounds kind of like this “Oh like oh e maya a una de tala a oof mana mana a eee eee eee eee oh.” (Well it sounds like that to me cause I don’t speak the language. I’m sure Hawaiians understand it. Probably.)
Then it occurred to me that I didn’t know what their language was really called. (I don’t.) Is it really called Hawaiian? (beats me!) Cause I live in the United States, and we don’t speak United States. Nor do we speak American. (I went to school a lot.) We do speak English (supposedly), but New England English is way different than Southern English, or California English. And if we get online, our English doesn’t look like English at all. (Texting is not writing.) I once looked at an old text and realized I had not capitalized my “I”s, and I cringed because I like to use the word “I” a lot (true) and it just looked like I had barfed preschool on the phone. (I didn’t actually barf. I just typed. I might have made barfing noises.) Or teen, take your pick. (I’m not prejudiced against teens, just honest. Okay I’m prejudiced.)
People speak other languages here too, but we (We being mostly lazy, conservative Americans) expect everyone to also speak English, cause we are Americans, even if we actually borrowed English from the English, you know, before those guys screwed it up so much. (British people didn’t screw it up their own language. Not anymore than Americans did (and do!) I mean really – it’s not a jumper. It’s a sweater. (Why call it a jumper? Does it jump? Then again does a sweater sweat? Language is weird period.) A jumper is something little girls wear, like overalls but with a skirt. (I have no idea why we even make these kinds of jumpers.) And we don’t take lifts, nor do we drive lorries, our cars don’t wear bonnets (Our cars wear hoods! Not really, we just call them hoods or bonnets. Or that thing in front of the car.) , and use a freaking article when you say “I’m going to university.” It’s like we Americans have to tell you everything. (Well Americans certainly want to anyway. Try to ignore us as usual.)
But England is weird too (fun weird!), because they don’t just go by England. They also go by Great Britain, and call themselves British, not Greatish, or Greatish Britainish. (I do like wasting my English education.) Or they could be the United Kingdom if you include the unimportant countries around them, like Scotland. (Scotland is full of very smart people who also hate Donald Trump.) I think. (I have no idea) But again, no United Kindomners. Also do you speak Scottish and Irish, or Gaelic, or just English cause everyone has to speak English because we do? I don’t know. (true!) I have not even bothered to Google this. (also true!) I do know that even the most racist people love foreign accents, so if you have one, come on over. We’ll go crazy for you. (We really will.) Look how successful the Beatles were. It wasn’t cause of their haircuts. (It was cause of their singing.)
Now Spain has it right, because their people speak Spanish, but then Mexico speaks Spanish too. But the two are not actually the same. Which means the Spanish I was taught by a white Anglo woman was Spain Spanish, and does little to help me speak Mexican Spanish, and there are a lot more Mexicans around Texas than there are Spaniards. (true) Just ask Donald Trump. (please don’t) I took several years of Spanish, but still can’t keep up with them because they speak, like, fast. And then you like translate in your head, and have to respond, and I just can’t keep up with all of that. (I suck at Spanish) Yet I see some people switch effortlessly from Spanish to English in one breath and I wonder if they are some sort of magician. (Seriously, how do they DO that?)
Then there’s France. They speak French. Fair enough. But we have people in Louisiana who also speak French. Also Cajun, whatever the heck that is. (Gambit from the X-men speaks it!) Parts of Canada speak French too. They don’t speak Canadian, unless you count those guys who used to say “hooser” on Saturday Night Live. (Anyone remember their names?)
On to Japan. They speak Japanese. Yay. Also English. And Engrish, which is a combination of English and Japanese that usually results in hilarity. Like small children wearing shirts with rather inappropriate words, while smiling big happy smiles. (Look it up. It’s funny!) Of course Americans are known for getting tattoos done in Chinese or Japanese characters (they’re the same, right?) (no) and end up permanently affixed with stupid words. Just because the guy says it means “warrior” doesn’t mean it’s right. You could be walking around with the word “sponge” on your bicep. (Also funny!) I bet our Asian neighbors love it when they see this. (No they don’t.) Asian is another word you can call Japanese, or Chinese, or Korean, or Vietnamese, because a lot of Americans aren’t going to bother with the difference. (True – partly because we really don’t know and don’t want to look like idiots) Because we’re too busy playing their video games. (They do make good video games.)
Africa! Now this is one crazy place. (Africans are not insane. Well not most of them.) They don’t all speak African, you guys. They have different languages and dialects, and if I looked it up, I could probably tell you one of them. (I never looked it up.) I think they sound very cool, even if they aren’t saying anything important, like in the introduction to the Lion King. I heard it’s translated something like “It’s a lion, look it’s a lion” which is better than “Llama, llama, penguins in pajamas” which my friend mentioned, and now I hear every time that movie comes on. (Honestly, I hear nothing else now. Llama, llama.) I asked a student from Africa what some names meant, and Simba means “lion”, Mufasa means “king”, and Scar means “bad guy”. Way to be creative, Disney! (You aren’t at all creative, Disney.)
There are a lot more countries (Try looking at a map. I might.), but I know most of you have no attention span and probably quit somewhere around England (Australians speak English too! Sort of!) so I’ll stop here. (I probably would have stopped way back there too, if I were reading this. Sorry I haven’t read your blogs lately!) Suffice it to say, language is very confusing, especially when it doesn’t even match the country name, so I think everyone should have to change theirs to make it easier (sort of like when you guys all went metric and we didn’t, but yet you still didn’t change back to feet and inches). (I don’t actually think people should change their language, or their metric system. Because of our independence there, I never know how to measure squat.) So a “good day” to those who speak Canadian, United Kingdom, Louisiana, Asian, African, and those other places on the map. You’re welcome. (I’m sorry)
Alice (This isn’t even my real name)
I was driving to work today, and singing along to a song from the Disney movie Lilo and Stitch, because – I’m me. I like the Hawaiian songs, so naturally try to sing along, even though I do not speak Hawaiian, so it sounds kind of like this “Oh like oh e maya a una de tala a oof mana mana a eee eee eee eee oh.”
Then it occurred to me that I didn’t know what their language was really called. Is it really called Hawaiian? Cause I live in the United States, and we don’t speak United States. Nor do we speak American. We do speak English (supposedly), but New England English is way different than Southern English, or California English. And if we get online, our English doesn’t look like English at all. I once looked at an old text and realized I had not capitalized my “I”s, and I cringed because I like to use the word “I” a lot and it just looked like I had barfed preschool on the phone. Or teen, take your pick.
People speak other languages here too, but we expect everyone to also speak English, cause we are Americans, even if we actually borrowed English from the English, you know, before those guys screwed it up so much. I mean really – it’s not a jumper. It’s a sweater. A jumper is something little girls wear, like overalls but with a skirt. And we don’t take lifts, nor do we drive lorries, our cars don’t wear bonnets, and use a freaking article when you say “I’m going to university.” It’s like we Americans have to tell you everything.
But England is weird too, because they don’t just go by England. They also go by Great Britain, and call themselves British, not Greatish, or Greatish Britainish. Or they could be the United Kingdom if you include the unimportant countries around them, like Scotland. I think. But again, no United Kindomners. Also do you speak Scottish and Irish, or Gaelic, or just English cause everyone has to speak English because we do? I don’t know. I have not even bothered to Google this. I do know that even the most racist people love foreign accents, so if you have one, come on over. We’ll go crazy for you. Look how successful the Beatles were. It wasn’t cause of their haircuts.
Now Spain has it right, because their people speak Spanish, but then Mexico speaks Spanish too. But the two are not actually the same. Which means the Spanish I was taught by a white Anglo woman was Spain Spanish, and does little to help me speak Mexican Spanish, and there are a lot more Mexicans around Texas than there are Spaniards. Just ask Donald Trump. I took several years of Spanish, but still can’t keep up with them because they speak, like, fast. And then you like translate in your head, and have to respond, and I just can’t keep up with all of that. Yet I see some people switch effortlessly from Spanish to English in one breath and I wonder if they are some sort of magician.
Then there’s France. They speak French. Fair enough. But we have people in Louisiana who also speak French. Also Cajun, whatever the heck that is. Parts of Canada speak French too. They don’t speak Canadian, unless you count those guys who used to say “hooser” on Saturday Night Live.
On to Japan. They speak Japanese. Yay. Also English. And Engrish, which is a combination of English and Japanese that usually results in hilarity. Like small children wearing shirts with rather inappropriate words, while smiling big happy smiles. Of course Americans are known for getting tattoos done in Chinese or Japanese characters (they’re the same, right?) and end up permanently affixed with stupid words. Just because the guy says it means “warrior” doesn’t mean it’s right. You could be walking around with the word “sponge” on your bicep. I bet our Asian neighbors love it when they see this. Asian is another word you can call Japanese, or Chinese, or Korean, or Vietnamese, because a lot of Americans aren’t going to bother with the difference. Because we’re too busy playing their video games.
Africa! Now this is one crazy place. They don’t all speak African, you guys. They have different languages and dialects, and if I looked it up, I could probably tell you one of them. I think they sound very cool, even if they aren’t saying anything important, like in the introduction to the Lion King. I heard it’s translated something like “It’s a lion, look it’s a lion” which is better than “Llama, llama, penguins in pajamas” which my friend mentioned, and now I hear every time that movie comes on. I asked a student from Africa what some names meant, and Simba means “lion”, Mufasa means “king”, and Scar means “bad guy”. Way to be creative, Disney!
There are a lot more countries, but I know most of you have no attention span and probably quit somewhere around England (Australians speak English too! Sort of!) so I’ll stop here. Suffice it to say, language is very confusing, especially when it doesn’t even match the country name, so I think everyone should have to change theirs to make it easier (sort of like when you guys all went metric and we didn’t, but yet you still didn’t change back to feet and inches). So a “good day” to those who speak Canadian, United Kingdom, Louisiana, Asian, African, and those other places on the map. You’re welcome.
“Are you, are you
Coming to the tree
Where they strung up a man
They say murdered three.
Strange things have happened here
No stranger would it be
If we met at midnight
In the hanging tree.”
– “The Hanging Tree” from The Hunger Games
Nothing like The Hunger Games to come up with a happy-go-lucky song like that, huh? I bring it up because I think it fits politics so very well! And not just because I pretend killed almost all presidential candidates in a virtual Hunger Games earlier. You guyz, a strange thing happened, according to Facebook News – tagline: News for Lazy People. No I’m not talking about how Trump said Hillary was not a victim of adultery – because she caused it. I mean, of course she caused it! She wore pant suits and got educated and talked and stuff. Women should not do these things. It’s not natural. It’s not like we could have expected poor Bill to control himself! Wait, did Donald just kind of defend Bill Clinton?
See this is what I’m talking about – strange stuff, guys. But there’s more. Megyn Kelly, Fox News reporter who I love making fun of because of the Santa / Jesus thing (they’re white, white I say!), said something that made sense. I know! I was totally shocked too! Not only that, she defended the Supreme Court’s right to decide on gay marriage. I just . . . whaaaaat? But it’s true, just like before with Santagate, I’ve got video proof!
Like, what the gosh golly gees was that, Megyn? You just argued with the President of the National Organization of Marriage! I mean – there’s a national organization of marriage? How does one get to be president of that? Another commenter on Facebook asked that question, pondering whether it was like calling dibs on the front seat. I’m guessing probably. I’m not sure what this guy does exactly, besides gripe about gays and pick up a paycheck . . . wait that’s what most Republican politicians do also. But what would be the prerequisites for belonging to this organization? Must hate gays, must love marriage (so much so you marry multiple times!), must like showing up on Fox News and stumbling around so much even Megyn can make you look like an idiot, like sharpening pencils. Sounds good to me.
But ANYWAY, my point is that Megyn pointed out that the Supreme Court actually ruled on gay marriage and that, like, made it law. And he complained about having to kowtow to the Supreme Court and she was like, wtf the Supreme Court has the final say on this (that’s why they call them supreme and all), and he invoked the “I don’t know crap about Abraham Lincoln clause” and then she said . . . not making this up – that presidential candidate Huckabee said “Beep you” to the Supreme Court. Which he did! But like she noticed! And he said she was saying Abraham Lincoln was wrong. And – she just sits there with this hilarious expression on her face like she wants to just beat him around some more, but why bother when he’s doing it so well himself? And I had to check that this was indeed Megyn on real life Fox News. Check out her eye roll.
So what could have happened to our Megyn? Did she have like some Biblical moments where the scales fell from her eyes with her fake eyelashes? Did she finally have as much B.S. from Republican blowhards as she could stand? Did she goof up on her cue cards? Is she drunk? I don’t know. But I have found myself agreeing with Megyn Kelly, and as this other commenter pointed out:
“This man is a fucktard, and worse than that, he made me agree with Megyn Kelly. I hate him for that.”
Good point random person from the comment section! See, I am agreeing with things posted in a comment section now! Strange things are happening! Here’s another fabulous Facebook comment:
Could Megyn be turning to the Dark Side (we have cookies AND Cookie Monster!)? I tend to doubt it, but then I saw this. Yes, she’s doing a photo shoot and trying to look like, cough, Katherine Hepburne (blasphemy!) but see what she’s wearing? It’s a pants suit. Sure, call it a power suit, but you just stepped over the Hillary Clinton line, Meg. You even cut your hair. It’s the beginning of the end for you. Better start putting out resumes.
I’m almost sorry Hillary poisoned her in the games. Strange Things. Are you coming to the tree, er polls?
It’s sort of been a tradition, except the years when it wasn’t, for me to take a look back at my posts from the year before and remember all the stuff that happened (or didn’t). I received the WordPress thingie that thoughtfully smashes your stats into a form letter every year, so I’ll start with that.
I have no idea why I got 324 views on December 10th. I’m not even sure if I posted something that day. Maybe the spambots were out in force on the 10th? My top post was written over two years ago, and continues to get comments. This is kind of cool – and a little unnerving at the same time, sort of like when I learned what my top search word was the year I covered 50 Shades (No more top search word, WordPress? Bummer!) Here is an example of a comment I received this year on the “I kill virtual people” post.
Next, WordPress pointed out my top 5 posts of the year, four of which were written before 2015. WordPress helpfully commented “Some of your most popular posts were written before 2015. Your writing has staying power!” – which is WordPress’s way of saying “No one read your blog this year.” I’m kidding, some of you read it, and I thank you all! Especially since in 365 days I only wrote 67 posts. I think 2015 was a rough blogging year for a lot of people, some of whom fell off the face of the blogosphere and got lives or something. Or maybe sometimes they had a fat pony sitting on them, as I did part of the year, or were dealing with the Sick, for which I have no representation. Except this.
For those of you who read and commented during that time, thanks, and know I always read my comments, even if they call me “evil rhymes-with-itch!”. Now back in time to 2015, the year I will continue to write on dates for the next three months.
I whine about cold weather, play with Frozen legos, discuss Sad Pony, and rejoice in cold weather, for it did giveth a snow day, which the Things and I used productively, as usual.
I ponder about the 50 Shades of Grey movie, and attempt to sarcastically express gratitude for 21 days for my group therapy (5 posts that month, so you can imagine how well that went). Mr. Sad Person blowing up Snow White got a good response, though.
I continue the gratitude thing by being grateful for mass consumerism in opening 12 blind boxes of Frozen plastic figurines with my kids, ruthlessly screw up grammar on National Grammar Day, gush about the new Cinderella movie (with Frozen short), review the love song Grenade!, and talk about all the crap we have in TEXAS and how it makes us better than everyone else.
I participate in Merbear’s Beatles contest (and lose), put up a tent in the desert of Depression, start covering hard-hitting Facebook News (example: Alyssa Milano’s stolen breast milk debacle!), and sing about mundane chores to Disney theme songs, because I could.
More posts playing with dolls, a horrific attempt to decipher the lyrics to “La Bamba” (turns out it is not about a bomb), and a Mother’s Day post with Disney princess dolls who all have dead moms.
I shop for frightening things on Ebay, celebrate the birthdays of my Things, and with them plan the Disney Hunger Games.
I conduct interviews for the Disney Hunger Games (yes interviews with dolls – what?), write a post praising Science Fiction (that does not involve J. J. Abrams), and another post discussing the history of the South (we don’t all wave Confederate flags).
More crazy Ebay finds (what is wrong with people?), a report on the breakup of two puppets, a post about cats, and the beginning of the Disney Hunger Games, with Merida’s triplet brothers axing Snow White. Yes, it’s other people with the problems!
Lots of fun this month! The seven dwarfs act disturbing at the mall, I advise how to cure Insomnia (never listen to me), create anti-memes, learn about how freaky people in the 1940s were, and report that more people die in selfie accidents than shark ones.
I ponder the meaning behind the song “Rain, Rain, Go Away”, introduce the “Diva Cup” (not what you think -probably), report on dogs shooting humans, get injected with radioactive dye, and dream about Jeb Bush. All in all an average month.
I find out my gallbladder is missing, have the missing gallbladder removed (see cartoon pictures!), see Thing One perform in a musical, record a Disney Thanksgiving with the Things, and plan for 25 days of hiding a stuffed snowman in December.
The Things and I start hiding Olaf in fun and disturbing new ways, I write a serious post about gun violence titled the same as another post about goofy Christmas songs from a year past (search carefully), Olaf is lost and goes on a rampage, Disney characters become political and post on Twitter and Facebook, I whine about being sick again, thoughtfully select Christmas gifts for the whole family (especially the gun toting family), sing about boar head, test if the War on Christmas is real (it totes is), put political candidates in a Hunger Games random generator (how politics should always be done!) and write this here post.
Whew. 2015 down. Bring on 2016. Just . . . slowly. I’m still catching up.
Happy New Year,
This race would be over a lot faster, that’s what! Yes, I know I did this before with Disney characters, but this time I finished it. We now have a victor, chosen by the arena after the candidates ruthlessly murder each other TO DEATH. I think this is a modest proposal, considering how bloody politics can be anyway. I was able to follow our candidates as they fought to the death thanks to a generator Thing One found called BrantSteele Hunger Games. You can try it later, with people of your choice! They don’t have to be real people (I’m still wondering on Trump) or alive (note the inclusion of Ronald Reagan who does quite well, considering). This is a much easier way of getting even with people than playing Oregon Trail and purposely flying through the game so that all the kids you don’t like in school die of Dysentery. Not that I know anything about that.
But enough listening to people barf out stupid opinions on things they know nothing about, on with the games! The generator randomly (I swear) makes stuff happen each day. I’ll show you the honest-to-goodness results.
Sure, you might not have gotten the winner you wanted, but it sure beat suffering through four years of campaigning only to not get the winner you wanted, right? Mr. Trump, I apologize for you not winning. Also for having to go potty. Please do not send wild monkey mutts after me. Thanks.
The search for the fugitive Snowman Olaf continues. He was spotted briefly in this recliner before making his escape.
Unfortunately the snowman crime wave has led to Disney politicians tweeting.
And more tweeting
And . . . more tweeting.
Prince Hans also took this opportunity to put up the first of sure to be many campaign posters.
And just in time for Christmas. This is going to be a very long year.
I just found out from Faith that my Alice Facebook page is still up, and possibly getting more action than my current page under my real name. This is not all that surprising considering I think I had more fans when I was also a squirrel and a sad pony on Facebook. Yes, I did these things. Shut up.
Anyway, I wanted to shut down the Alice page, but then I wasn’t sure HOW to, since I no longer remembered either my user name or my password and they want one of those. They also asked for names of friends (as collateral?) and I put some in, but they didn’t recognize them, so I guess you guys who know my secret identity do not exist? Or maybe you are in the Contact Security Program.
So I got desperate, found my page, and decided to Friend myself. Cause I could totally gain access to myself that way if Alice and I were friends.
Yeah that’s not how it works. That’s now how any of this works.
So for now Alice is still out there, should you care to visit. I no longer have any control over what she says, though, so try at your own risk.
Any ideas on how to get rid of an account you don’t know how to get into anymore?
P.S. Alice hasn’t friended me back. What a jerk.