@thebiglybestestdoggie: Today is Daddy’s birthday! I’ve been thinking really hard about gift ideas for him. Should I get Daddy a shiny new squeaky ball? Or maybe he’d like a box of yummy treats? Or perhaps I should try to catch a cuddly Rabbit Friend for him from the backyard? Ooh yeah, I bet he’d like that!
Happy Birthday, Daddy!!!
~Happy Tuesday, friends! Wow, Jett looks like he is ready to paaarty!~
@thebiglybestestdoggie: Just discovered an awesome loophole to that whole No Doggie on the Furniture nonsense! It doesn’t technically count as sitting on the couch… if I sit on top of somebody who is already sitting on the couch! Score one for the brilliant doggie!
Incredibly proud of myself for being so resourceful!
~Happy Tuesday, friends! Doggies can be such creative creatures when they are determined enough!~
Don’t have a cow, man!
El Barto.
Bartman.
Bart Simpson.
Homer and Marge’s impressively underachieving firstborn.
Mischievous and rebellious, this kid is definitely not a role-model child by any stretch of the imagination.
But he is one of America’s favorite juvenile delinquents.
Presenting ten inspiring quotes from the infamous Bart:
(That’s a start, I suppose.)
(Little wonder this kid spends his days in detention.)
(Poor Bartman. That’s actually kind of sad. )
(Right. You just keep telling yourself that.)
(Truer words have never been spoken. Especially not by a 10 year-old with a penchant for bad behavior.)
(Blatant honesty is always so refreshing.)
(Once again, Bart is slightly misguided as the result of poor parenting. On a side note: leave it to Ho-Ho-Homer to spread cheer through strangulation.)
(No point in sugar-coating the truth, is there?)
(Well, he started off on the right track with this one…)
(Sounds like the kind of advice you’d expect from Homer. Proof that the apple doesn’t fall far.)
Bart may not be an overachiever like his sister Lisa, but he sure has perfected the art of trouble-making.
And he’s a master prankster.
Well, what do you really expect from a character whose name is the anagram for the word “brat”?
Ay caramba!
~Happy Friday! Hope you all have a great weekend!~
(The Badness of Bart originally appeared on Comically Quirky on 7/15/16)
She isn’t cool like Bart, adorable like Maggie, or tolerant like Marge.
Or half-baked like Homer.
She may not be the most charismatic.
Or even overly likable, for that matter.
But you’ve got to admit, she has more brain cells than Bart, Maggie, Marge, and Homer.
Collectively.
Lisa Simpson.
The vegetarian, overachieving, saxophone-playing middle child.
And boy, does she have sarcasm down to an art.
She’s a total smart-ass.
Deadpanning is as much her strength as her intelligence.
Presenting ten of Lisa’s finest moments of sassy and witty wisdom:
(I do believe this is the politically correct term for Not Happy.)
(Hence the term Hallmark Holiday. No moolah equals no love, don’t ya know?)
(I know, I know. Life is sooo unfair.)
( Homer and Marge have been trying for years to be slightly-better-than-totally-horrible parents. Evidently, their efforts are paying off.)
(Proof that even those Goody Two Shoes have skeletons in their closets.)
(If this isn’t the World’s Most Perfect Family, I’m at a total loss.)
(Surely just a minor drawback of being part of a dysfunctional family.)
(Depressing, yes. But also poignantly true.)
(She’s obviously referencing Homer, not me. Hey, I don’t even like beer!)
(My personal favorite. Attributed to both Abraham Lincoln and Mark Twain, I’m inclined to give Lisa full credit on this one.)
Lisa may not be as well-loved as some of the other Simpsons, but she does have redeeming qualities.
She’s passionate, she cares about the environment, and she actually has morals.
She rebels against societal norms, for goodness sake.
What’s not to love about that?
Yeah, I can definitely relate to Lisa Simpson.
After all, I am a fellow smart-ass and vegetarian, myself.
And…
I, too, have a few more brain cells than the average cartoon character.
~Happy Friday, everyone! Can you believe it’s almost December already? Holy Moly, where did the year go?~
(The Logic of Lisa originally appeared on Comically Quirky on 5/19/16)
Slow down.
Slow down!!
FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, SLOW THE @&*% DOWN!!!
With 30 minutes to spare after dropping my younger child off at his guitar lesson…
It was the perfect opportunity to continue working with my older son (a.k.a. Mascot Boy) on his driving skills.
And so he took the wheel.
Figuring it was only three miles from the music school to our house, it wouldn’t necessarily be an unreasonable walk for my younger one if scary driver Mascot Boy and I didn’t make it back alive from driving practice.
Unfortunately, the fact that it’s been unseasonably hot out made it a less than optimal scenario.
But it’s always good to have a plan, right?
Mr. Mascot decided he’d like to practice in a shopping parking lot that day.
Did you know different rules apply in parking lots?
Namely, there are no rules .
Especially in a Walmart parking lot.
Between vehicles blindly pulling out in front of other traffic with no regard to right of way, and overall mayhem in general…
The very notion of safe driving seems to go right down the toilet.
All I knew is that I sure as hell didn’t want to die in the Walmart parking lot.
I’d rather get eaten by my dog.
Not that my precious Jett would ever eat me.
But still.
Dying at Walmart/in the Walmart parking lot is definitely not the way I’d like to go.
Especially with a 16-year-old driver behind the wheel.
And not only does this 16-year-old believe he already knows everything there is possibly to know about driving…
I’ve somehow recently ended up with two backseat drivers whenever I’m driving.
Because even though my 13-year-old hasn’t had any formal driving instruction, he too believes he now magically knows everything there is to know about driving.
Specifically, that he and his brother know everything.
And I, the driver with two decades of experience, know nothing.
As if I suddenly need coaching on how to safely maneuver a vehicle.
That didn’t feel like a complete stop.
You forgot your turn signal! Right in front of that cop over there!
I’m pretty sure even I have better judgement than you!
Meanwhile, Mr. Mascot has taken a liking to barreling full-speed toward red lights.
I’m starting to think I ought to be wearing a blindfold when I’m in the passenger seat.
He attempted to park next to the only car in the back row of the parking lot.
Which happened to be a BMW vaguely resembling The Batmobile.
Which happened to be one that we really can’t afford to gently nudge from behind or do a drive-by mirror sideswipe on.
After one unsuccessful attempt of parking straight in between the lines, I strongly encouraged him to find a different spot.
Away from other cars.
All other cars.
After surviving the Walmart parking lot, we headed back to the music school to pick up child number two.
We arrived safely.
The parking lot was under heavy construction.
So we soared over a massive mud bump, Dukes of Hazzard style.
But ultimately, we didn’t get pulled over by any cops.
And even more importantly, we survived.
So it’s a win.
I’ve come to realize that my son’s learning to drive comes at a price.
The expense of fuel.
And the expense of my sanity.
Which has long been precariously dangling by a thin thread.
Oh, but at least I’m getting a break from driving, right?
If your idea of a break is anxiety, panic, or a heart attack, then yes.
Thanks to me, my dear child, you are gaining experience.
Thanks to you, my dear child, I seem to be losing experience.
Or my sanity.
One of the two.
Or both.
~Happy Saturday, friends! Click here if you’d like to read Part 1 of our exciting driving experiences. Have a great weekend, and watch out for nervous Student Drivers and their equally terrified parents! Haha!~
The Danger Zone… it’s a real thing.
So, I almost strangled myself to death the other day.
In a fitting room at Kohls.
With a sundress.
It’s true.
The sadistic contraption had way the hell too many straps.
Clothing and injury.
These two things evidently go hand in hand.
I’ve said it before.
And I’ll gladly say it again.
I don’t understand the world of fashion.
Not one teeny, tiny bit.
Upside down jeans are poised to be the next big trend in denim.
Whoa.
And not the good kind of whoa.
More like, woe.
Upside down pants with upside down pockets and useless belt loops that graze your ankles?
Hmm.
Too kooky.
The best part, though?
They’re only $495!
But at least they cover one’s butt.
Unlike crotchless jeans.
Which are essentially a couple of scraps of denim, held together by…
Chains.
And complete with a fully exposed rear, to boot.
Definitely worth $142, don’t ya think?
Or how about the practically nonexistent jeans that couldn’t?
Couldn’t cover a thing, that is.
With 90 percent less fabric than the average pair of jeans, the $223 extreme cutout jeans with exposed pockets and exposed butt cheeks are really something.
Or not much of anything, depending on how you look at it.
And let’s talk about floss jeans.
Described as extreme lace-up jeans…
The floss-like threads comprising the leg portion are essentially thin bungee cords that wrap around the legs.
They look insanely time-consuming to put on or get off.
And downright dangerous.
It would be more efficient to wedge a wild and wiggly lunatic into a straight jacket than to squirm and squeeze your way into a pair of floss jeans.
At least they’re only $168.
Nice, right?
Ha!
For that kind of money, I expect clothing to…
a) Not to be safety endangering.
b) Not make me die of hypothermia from lack of coverage.
c) To cover my literal butt.
Is this so unreasonable?
Oh wait.
Maybe that’s just, like, not cool.
Or something.
I don’t know.
I’m not a fan of holey stuff.
Especially paying for intentionally damaged goods in the name of fashion.
Not with my hard-earned money, thank you very much.
I refuse to pay for “distressed” monstrosities.
And for heaven’s sake, no more buttless jeans!
Oh, now here’s a real winner!
Clear knee jeans.
For only $95.
Complete with…
Stylish knee windows!
And fully covered butt and crotch areas!
Jackpot!
But why stop at clear knees…
When you can rock a full pair of clear “jeans” for only $100.
They’re pants… without actually being pants.
Or how about half jeans, a.k.a. one leg jeans?
They’re perfect for those who can’t decide whether they’re hot or cold.
Nothing like half a pair of pants.
With even more butt cheeky exposure!
Oh, and let’s not forget about zipper jeans that zip all the way around.
Presumably to air out your cheeks at your discretion.
Wow.
What a mess.
Fashion fads.
They come and they go.
But the fashion industry is clearly flying by the seat of their buttless, crotchless pants.
~Happy Friday, friends! Anyone in the market for pantless pants? If so, you’re in luck! I’m sure some designer, somewhere out there, is busy turning your dream into reality! Haha! Have a great weekend!~
Pants? Torture device? You be the judge…
Folly, fool-born fustilarian!
Yeasty, ill-bred horn-beast!
Puny, milk-livered lout!
Who on earth might make such puzzling and disparaging remarks?
Why, William Shakespeare, of course!
The man was a master of snarky insults.
It’s probably safe to say he wasn’t much of a people person.
You know, what with all the harsh sentiments and all.
One thing’s for certain:
Nobody could’ve ever accused him of mincing words.
Not with that aptitude for verbally destroying anyone with the audacity to be anywhere in his vicinity.
Now that is talent!
And what better way to mark my 200th post than with insults, threats, and snarky remarks galore!
(Whew! Is it hot in here, or is it just me?)
(Everyone knows that elbows are best used for bending. And elbowing others. Which can be lethal, if done properly. Which I suspect the sharp-tongued Shakespeare must’ve been well aware of.)
(Not sure what a knotty-pated fool is, but it doesn’t sound very flattering. And yet, it sounds almost like a sweet compliment compared to the subsequent line. Yikes!)
(Now this is a dubious claim. If he wanted to beat somebody badly enough, age wouldn’t likely have been the biggest factor, given the intensity behind his words. Just sayin’…)
(I don’t know what it is, but some people just seem to have that effect on others.)
(Ass-whoopings and contempt for lack of intelligence seem to be a common theme here. Shakespeare probably could’ve benefited from a punching bag to release his multitude of frustrations.)
(Aw, come on. Surely everyone has at least one redeemable quality. Unless they’d landed themselves on Shakespeare’s shit list, that is.)
(Ha! It’s lights out for you, Scallywag!)
(Commendable use of heaven and hell, all in one hellishly fine simile!)
(I’ve never seen a stewed prune, so it’s hard to say how much faith I’d be comfortable placing in it. But I suppose the prune could theoretically warrant more faith than the average sheep-biting harpy. Whatever the heck that is.)
(If eyes are the windows to one’s soul, then it’d be wise to protect both eyes and soul from infectious stupidity.)
(It’s been said familiarity breeds contempt…)
(Oh, crap! It’s too late!!!)
While these were all so…delightful, I’d never personally say anything like this to another human being.
Not only because of the somewhat obsolete terminology…
But because, well, it’s kind of rude.
But still humorous, nonetheless.
~Happy Saturday, friends! Feeling inspired by Shakespeare? Great! Just don’t use that inspiration to turn all your friends into enemies. Yeesh!~
Teenagers.
They’re awesome.
Really, really awesome.
Sooo…
Yesterday was my youngest son’s birthday.
He turned 13.
Now I have two teenagers.
With one kid learning to drive and the other playing his new electric guitar around the clock, things are now twice as fun around here!
And that’s not even factoring all the hormonal mayhem and other joys of those delightful teenage years!
(And kids are always complaining they don’t have anything in common with their parents!)
(Well, overwhelmed by something, at any rate…)
(Make that plural. Teenagers. Not one, but two. Twice the woo hoo!)
(Yeah, that. And speaking of wine…)
(Did you know some wine glasses can actually hold an entire bottle of wine? Probably the genius invention of a frazzled, disgruntled mom..)
(It takes my kids a whopping two hours to even realize I’m home from work. Meanwhile, The Bigly Bestest Doggie always eagerly awaits my return. Yeah. Dogs clearly care more.)
(Google takes a backseat to my expert kids and the plethora of factual knowledge they evidentally think they possess.)
(If you’re a fan of unpredictable extremes, then teenagers are totally your people!)
(If you’ve already punished your child by confiscating their electronics, there’s only one thing left to do. Hey, desperate times call for desperate measures.)
(Judging by the size of the average teenager, it’s probably far too late to even consider attempting this.)
(Kids don’t realize all that arguing and back-talking is equally exhausting for their parents. And tired and cranky parents are not happy and reasonable parents.)
(Seriously. Don’t mess with me. Mostly because I’m already at the end of my rope…)
Truly, for all that people complain about teenagers, they’re really not so bad.
Except when they’re arguing with you.
Or being irrational.
Or finding ways to endanger both your life and your sanity.
But other than that, they’re the best!
~Happy Friday, friends! Who here has teenagers, or has survived the teen years and lived to tell the tale? I hear there is hope, so I’m fairly optimistic… Have a great weekend!~
Google is to a hypochondriac what meth is to a junkie.
Oh, come on.
You know the deal.
You’re suddenly afflicted with sharp stomach pains from hell…
So you turn to Dr. Google to shed some insight.
Inevitably, Google leads you to WebMD for totally reliable self-diagnostic help.
After scanning through symptoms and possible causes, you manage to convince yourself it’s not simply constipation or indigestion.
No.
It’s undoubtedly a raging bout of appendicitis that is about to do you in, right there in the middle of the Summer Fun section at Walmart.
Unless you make a beeline for the nearest hospital right this very minute.
All you know for certain is you’re obviously dying.
I swear, the symptoms for migraines and brain damage are identical.
Ok, well.
Maybe not exactly.
But seriously, have you ever noticed how so many different health issues all have the same set of symptoms?
Oh, the things it could be!
Got a headache?
It’s obviously an aneurysm, and that clock is just a tickin’.
Or it could be head trauma.
What’s that?
Don’t remember hitting your head in the first place?
Well, duh.
Wheezing and coughing?
Could be asthma.
Or a sinus infection.
Or congenital heart failure.
Fatigued?
Could be the flu.
Or Lyme disease.
Or just good ol’ PMS.
Hallucinations?
Could be schizophrenia.
Or epilepsy.
Or just poorly interacting medications.
Irritability?
Could be hypothermia.
Or a sleep disorder.
Or meningitis.
Nauseated?
Could be food poisoning.
Or a heart attack.
Or perhaps you’re pregnant.
(Congratulations!)
Forgetful?
Could be delirium.
Or dementia.
Or head trauma.
(Seriously, quit knocking your head around!)
Oh, the things it could be!
Lucky for me, I have a high pain tolerance.
Which is great, because I’m freakishly allergic to aspirin and Advil.
And apparently, most antibiotics don’t work for me, either.
Hell, I can’t even take Benadryl to counteract an allergic reaction because it knocks me out cold.
But I do take comfort in knowing I can just conk myself over the head with a frying pan to ease the pain and be good to go.
That’s all the so-called healthcare I need.
~Happy Friday, friends! Hope you have a happy and healthy weekend, free of any un-fun doctor or WebMD visits!~
This cute little bear has the right idea. Just stick a band-aid on and call it a day.
(Oh, the Things It Could Be originally appeared on Comically Quirky on 8/5/16.)
Pop quiz!!!
Oh, relax.
There’s only one question, and no wrong answers.
It’ll be fun!
Here we go…
WHEN LIFE HANDS YOU LEMONS, YOU ARE MOST LIKELY TO:
a) Pull on your sweatpants, grab a few pints of Chunky Monkey, and indulge in a three day marathon of tear-jerkers, including John Q and The Pursuit of Happyness, then bawl for days over the myriad of injustices in life.
b) Find your inner peace after thoroughly exhausting yourself by going postal on random objects- the neighbor’s hideous Halloween scarecrow they have yet to take down, the coffee maker that just kicked the bucket, the freakishly large rat scurrying by…
c) Throw those lemons at someone deserving. A few helpful options: that toxic frenemy you can’t seem to cut loose, a particularly infuriating coworker, or the out-of-control maniac in a semi who just cut you off on the freeway.
d) Use your pent-up aggression to squeeze every last drop of lemon juice out with your bare hands like a Viking masseuse and make a badass (and probably dangerously potent) lemon martini.
e) Other (please elaborate)
While these are all very logical (and highly acceptable) approaches, I’d personally go with option c.
After all, research clearly shows that actively doing something to alleviate troubles can be highly beneficial.
And how much more proactive can one get than hurling objects across the room?
So…which did you choose?
~Happy Friday, everyone! Hope you all have a lemon-free weekend… Unless, of course, you were planning on making a lemon martini!~
No Viking masseuses were available, so I had to make this one myself.
(Much Ado About Lemons originally appeared on Comically Quirky on 10/08/2015)
comically quirky 