How many times have you heard people on the internet aren’t real? The internet is full of kooks? You can’t make real friends on the net? Hundred? More? Me too. So who then is tapping all those keys on the keyboard?

I would agree that most folks use made up names and probably do a little tweaking here and there to make themselves seem …oh…. a little more exciting maybe.

And I would heartily agree the internet is full of kooks. Especially now when they seem to be most bountiful in the world of blogging. Hard to travel anywhere in blog town without running into an apostle borg or 5. All posting the same thoughts over and over with slightly different words. But then that’s the purpose of a collective. You don’t have to think for yourself.

The internet is the land of the invisible. Which enables people to do both great harm and great good. What each person does with that is purely up to them.

A few years ago I used to post with a lady from Canada named Emily. (Milky will remember her well. As all will who knew her.) Emily was a pistol! Feisty as hell. Man could she give you a run for your money. She was quick-witted and most definitely had a mind of her own. I loved giving her a hard time and she loved dishing it right back. Several months went by with all of us playing back and forth then one day there was a post on the board from Em that would forever change our lives and the way we looked at the net.

In that post Emily admitted that she had MS. She was bound to a wheelchair and unable to do much for herself. In short, Emily would not be with us forever because her body, already frail, would continue to deteriorate over time. She was hesitant to admit this to us because as she put it, “Here no one treats me like I am different. Or looks at me with pity.” She made us promise to treat her no differently than we ever had and I can tell you that I for one, honored that request big time. LOL!

Having known Emily. I take particular offense to something recently brought to my attention through 3 different e-mails from 3 different people. (pay close attention those of you involved because it would appear your clique is beginning to dissolve) Apparently at least two of the “popular folks” in blog land have gone out of their way to search out people who have boards which post about religion or faith. They go there and proceed to attack these folks who have done them no harm in an effort to stir up trouble and get the numbers up on their own pathetic blog. And YES, I did say pathetic.

Perhaps it has not occurred to these school yard bullies that faith is the only hope some people have left in their lives. Perhaps they never stopped to think that the people behind the religion blogs may be broken in some way and hanging on to the only thing they have.

These same people continue to rake in the posts being one of the more popular blogs out there I am told. However, they should be warned, there are several people close to them who are becoming disgusted. Thank God for that!

I detest bullies! Always have. They’re sniveling little cowards who only attack people who are not strong enough to defend themselves….and only when they have an audience.

What price would I pay for popularity? Nothing.

Albert Schweitzer
In everyone's life, at some time, our inner fire goes out. It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being. We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirit.

Thank you, Em. Wherever you are.

I am a victim of "Mom discrimination".

Are you a Mom? Do you have a Mom? Because it has recently come to my attention that being a Mom is not a good thing in the world of blogs. I find myself slightly bemused by the notion that there are people here in blog land who prefer to avoid me because I am the mother of another blogger here. Who told? It sure as hell wasn't me. I'm a stand or fall on my own kinda girl.

I can only surmise that it is expected once we have birthed the human unit, and reared them up the only thing we are still good for would be, possibly baking cookies? Or maybe a nice sewing hobby? Anything that keeps us out of the way. Interesting concept. Not gonna happen. Least not with this mom.

Oh sure, I could find another hobby. Something more sedate perhaps? I could honor the wishes of still other family members who constantly beg and moan for me to "grow up" and do something productive. Hell, maybe we could get me into some kind of electric shock therapy and just have my whole fucking brain rewired so I walked around drooling on myself all the time but most importantly, do not speak, get in the way, or dare to make my presence known.

What the hell? If I had a nickle for everytime some dick head asked me to try a behave like an adult, I'd have that new video camera now. Look, I am someone's mom. So? Explain why that's a problem and I'll explain to you how noone would be here to blog at all if nobody stepped up the plate, birthed and raised the little boogers. The fact that the man-kid grows up to be resentful that you reside in his universe is a tad unsettling but...trust me, I can live with it.

Lastly, for you young folks, when you are 54 will you be ready to go softly into that good night? To sit on the sofa and watch the history channel? Put yourself ahead a few years. Are you going to be willing to "stay out of the way"? I sure as hell hope not.

So there it is. For those of you who are not in the inner circle and didn't know. I am a fellow blogger's mother. oooooooooooooo. How scary is that? Look it's the boogy mom! She's gonna narc us all out. She'll know we have sex! and we swear! ooooooooooooooo.

Pah-freakin-please! Wipe your noses and get over it. I was here first. I WROTE that book, children. And here's a newsflash for ya....it won't be the last one I write.

The Blog Critic has agreed to do a piece on next weeks news in which she will critic in her own special (and not very nice) way a series of blogs.

If you would like the blog critic to check your blog out (or better yet) someone elses blog out. Sign yourself (or them) up here. All entries must be in by Monday evening.

Remember, this is one nasty, nasty, gal. If you can't take the heat, don't invite trouble to your door. Send it to someone elses.

And good luck to you all.

shhh. Having been ordered to rest for two days can only mean, that I must be in the lab doing what relaxes me. Creating!

I have brand new gizmos to use. Very exciting stuff. I am off now to push buttons and make merry. Hopefully that burning smell is nothing to be concerned about. As a piece of this equipement was in fact, borrowed from my man-kids studio. I talked him into bringing over a couple of things (on loan of course) on the guise that I was near death.

When an angle is presented to us, we must work it, no? Oddly, he did eye me with suspicion as he hooked the stuff up. And finally said, "You don't look like your dying to me."

I have been tagged by that femme fatale of the Jungle, Aussican Jane.

Psssst. For those of you who don't know, tagged means homework.

Five things people find weird about me.....(only 5?)

1. I can NOT, no matter how hard I try pronounce, milk or sale.

2. My elf pants.

3. I talk to inantimate objects.

4. I can not po in a public place. Only if it's an extreme emergency.

5. I never order one drink at a time. I always get two and drink them together. One Pina Colada and one Strawberry Daquari.

My buddies below, you are hereby and towith, towit, tagged. In other words, you have homework.

1. Milkmaid
2. Roxie
3. Wallycrawler
4. Josh
5. Roscoe

Mid-life crisis. Does it exist? Or is it a title created by younger folks rearing children that can't yet afford selfish things. And/or older folks too set in their ways to get out there and "live"?

Why can't we return to the behavior of our twenties once we've put in our time raising families and working the daily grind? Have we not earned that right? Why shouldn't we try new things we've always wanted to try now that we have the time and a little extra cash? Is that a mid-life crisis? Should we give up all manner of excitment because we are over 50? Shall we dry up, forsake sex, dancing, and exploration or things not yet tried. I think not.

Is age a number? Or a state of mind?

THIS is why I don't like to go to little kids parties. Right here. For some reason, all other adults can sit quietly in a corner, undisturbed by the little buggers. But me? NO! For some reason, all little kids, every one of them, male, female, doesn't matter....they all think I'm a 5' 1 and a half inch toy.

They play with me. They do my hair. They paint me with cake icing, stick straw wrappers in my hair, and tell me their deepest secrets. In short, they somehow have gotten the idea that I am one of them. Much to the complete delight of other adults who then shoot embarrassing photos and videos of the abuse.

And let's not even talk about the little birthday parties that take place on an ice rink. I'm probably the only woman walking with two cracks her ass. Why oh why, do people keep inviting me to these things?

Oh and to make matters extra bad, my husband's x wife from like a gazillion years ago is usually there. Nice. Real nice.

I need a v'cation. Somewhere warm with sissy drinks that have little umbrellas in them and no kids allowed!

Happy HNT everybody!

What kind of sauce do you want with your wings?

PS. I gotta say, Milky makes an awful good looking blonde chick.

Sadly, I think Rox and I ended up with heads the size of bowling balls.
I'll have to work on that.

Jane as you can tell by the ornery look on her face, is our resident trouble making Hooter.

Gosh, we do have nice racks, don't we?

DEEP INTELLECTUAL MOVIE, by me.

I have sick feeling in my belly that I have once again mispelt a big word.
No matter.
For your amusment and further education I present to you the following film which was taken on "box-o'-wine" night. The ever popular box o' wine is a lovely thing because it has a convienent spout attached to the box so you can lay under it, whilst a friend pulls the thiny out and just swig her down. It's also very cheap.
(jane, you are gonna be disappointed because I didn't get to sing in this one. They make me promise not to sing during the holidays. It's their Christmas gift or something. whatEVER!

ON WITH THE SHOW!

DEEP MEANINGFUL MOVIE

Ok folks. This toad has been buggin you all for quite awhile now. So here's the info I've been able to get. Put this with whatever you may come up with and for those of you who enjoy eating your young, bon' apetit.

Only fair to put it all out there in my humble opinion.

My suggestion for all of you would be to install advanced stat counters. Watch for this dweeb to post again and just keep tracking or for those of you who are so inclined, you are more than welcome to turn any and all of this info into the Blogger admin. They have deeper digging capabilities are surprisingly nice people.

HostName: 66-211-195-21.velocity.net
IP: 66.211.195.21
ISP: SOFTEK INC
Location: Erie, Pennsylvania (ring any bells?)
Domain: US NETWORK
Browser: MSIE (Win 2000) (so happy it's not a mackie person)

I also have the screen res settings yadda yadda but that won't help you in your dectective work.

I can tell you this person has spent a boatload of time on this blog. And would only have found me through one of you, obviously since I am the new kid on the block.

It's beyond me why some people get their jollies by causing other people trouble. I can only assume it's because they are not creative enough to be interesting in their own right. Sad really when you think about it. Even little kids can make up their own stories after all.

Thanks to Jane, I have uncovered my stalker's true purpose! (thank you, Jane).

The stalker (see two posts below to catch up with the rest of us) ....crap where was I? Ok. do-over.

The stalker, a.k.a. annonymous, is after our best body parts. In my case chesticles and vocal cords. His plan is to build himself a Frankenposter which he will secretly control like a string puppet.

Hide your best body parts people. Do not leave yourself open to attack or you may be watching your butt-cheeks hang offa the back of a brand new poster.

As you can see, I have cleverly disguised myself as an automobile. Annonymous would have absolutely no use for auto parts whilst building a faux-human to do his postal bidding.

I know this is chilling. And you may need to "take a moment". But don't take too long. He's out there collecting, I tell you!

I do believe our brains are safe. He has commented frequently on the joint mental capacity of me and my posters and he thinks we're all dumber than dog po. HHHA! (oo. sorry about about that little plop of spittle) Little does he know we have merely been masking our mental prowess. (is that spelt right?)

Why, I myself have an IQ of 140. And I got into Mensa last night!

For anyone who wants to join me, here's what ya do. Proceed to Barnes and Noble. They have little paper books with IQ tests in them. What they may not know is sumbody screwed up and put the answers in the back. DUMMY! I copied most all my answers but I must have copied some down wrong cause I still missed stuff.

Then, ya go to the local Mensa chapter. You can not do this if you don't have more than a two digit IQ so that paper test is like....major important.

Anyway, if you run over there and walk alllll the way around the building and look down, they have a basement window, just big enough to slip through. It's totally unlocked. (and they're the smart ones? DOH!) You just slip yourself right through there and sneak up to one of there super smart meetings. I gotta tell ya though, it's about as boring as watching a bug-zapper. They use big words and talk about stuff that has no importance at all like science stuff and crap. I tried to bring up good action movies as a topic but they just looked at me like I was stupid. (Right, AS IF! I only scored 140 on my test so we KNOW I'm smart)

Check it out if you wanna see what smart people are like. But take your own sandwich cause one those guys has a fetish for bread crusts or something. There's nary a crust on one sandwhich and....worse yet, no freakin meat. They've got cucumbers in there. Who eats that crap?

We were going through Crusher's photo albums looking for ...well.....things. And we came upon some of the most unusual .....well, see for yourself.

Makes you wonder, doesn't it? Just what all was he into?

This post is dedicated to any poster out there who has ever been verbally assaulted by that ever popular moniker, "annonymous". Or has recieved e-mails from free mail accounts which were soon deleted once the little pissant had swept in under the cover of darkness and left a big whining insult to you. (I have had 3 of these in 3 days which (could be wrong here but) I think it's a record!

The internet is a great vehicle for cowards. I generally picture these folks as skinny little runts with pointy noses, big ears, and bad teeth. They are the people no one ever takes notice of in the real world. Because out there, they don't have so much to say. And when they do speak, they speak so timidly that no one hears them.

And then we have the all powerful annonymous judge of mankind. This, in my humble opinion, is generally a curmudgeonly old crow who hasn't liked anything since Lawrence Welk went off the air.

I can take a direct hit from a person with name who I can give it right back to. But a coward who sneaks out, makes his hit and then disappears back under his rock....well, that's a whole other matter. That's just not playing nice.

I would welcome a visit from my foul-mouthed friend. A little one on one. Only you have to have a name. Doesn't have to be yours. Just a real post, with some kind of name. We'll have a go, just you and me. Bring it. If you're not too much of a coward.

Come forward and we'll see what shakes out. How about it? Got the balls? Or no?

My personal private dick flew into action with great efficiency and aplumb. (pretty sure that is a word. If not. we'll make it so.)

As you can see, we have rescued the sweet monkey and restored her good health with a liberal shot of bourbon. Possibly too liberal as she now has begun to speak in tongues whilst walking in circles, and scratching her butt.

But on with the rest of the story.

(I must be out of here by 5 for cheap Mexican food and many margaritas)





After Tumbleweeds astute suggestion the leggy cat and I trekked over to Crusher's place to see what if any evidence we might uncover there. As you might expect Crusher was passed out next to the moonshine still. He never could control himself when it came to sampling the product. This is why after so many years he still does not own an indoor toilet.... or toilet paper for that matter.

Ah, well. I digress.



During our search we uncovered several of Monkey's pubic hairs stuck in Crushers beard. Of course we were appalled and even dismayed at what might have been done to little monkey before he tied her up to that transformer.

We decided to forget the coppers and take matters into our own hands. There was of course only one form of justice Crusher would understand.

TOTAL MAKEOVER.



When Crusher came to, he jammered on and on with his usual bravado. One threat after another. What a mouth on that guy! He started that raggedy old hunting knife around and that's when I held up the hand mirror.



What happened next, was an unexpected surprise. I mean, how could we have anticipated the smelly old lush had a bad ticker? We are not a cruel people by nature, you understand. Slighty mean but never openly cruel. Alright. occasionally cruel.



As you can clearly see he did not take to being blonde. The funeral director worked and worked on rearranging his facial features but in a little hick town like Purvis there really isn't a lot of talent available, you know? So if you were a friend, ahhhhhhhhhhhh ha ha ha ha hah a ha ha ha ha. Er.....um..... sorry about this but as always it wasn't my fault.

AGHAST! ALAS! and ALAK! Monkey has been cooked!

Who could have done such a dastardly deed?

Is your man in the mood? Would you like him to be? Play this near pornific video and watch him sweat and wriggle with sexual hunger. Then pounce and have your way with him.
Courtsey of La Cupcake. Bon a'petite.

BURNIN LUV

Gadzooks! I'm a fifty foot cupcake! Oh well, no matter.

In honor of Cupcake Friday and in an effor to explore my softer gentler side I would like to pose this question to you all. Why do you enjoy being a female? If you are a man, then why do you think you would enjoy being a female?

I'll start.

1. I never have to rearrange my penis nor worry about it getting stuck in my zipper.

2. I do not have balls and therefore am not vulnerable to a ball kicking attact.

3. If I make a toot in public place and any man is around, any man at all, everyone assumes it was him.

4. I get more than one orgasm per sexual session. Men are severely hindered in this respect.

5. And finally, I never have to pay 59.95 for penis enlargement pills.

When your human friends don't come through, call a monkey. That's right. We were each allowed one phone call and I called .......Monkey!

His plan was flawless. A work of art. First Monkey came in wearing a prison hat, scent of banana, and nothing else. He climbed up on Olga's lap distracting the beastie babe whilst that wiley Purple pilfered the key from an unsuspecting guard. Purple slipped in like the Pink Panther, stealth and silent.

In a matter of seconds we had the door open and the five of us were running for our lives.

Note, Jane's nifty disguise.

We are now back at my place. Don't tell anyone. There is an odd noise coming from upstairs. It's rather chilling really.

But no matter. Right now, we have hungry monkeys to feed! Jane, Milky, bring on the bananas. In fact, let's go all out and make banana splits!

I sure wish I had a monkey brain. Alas and alack, I am burdened with the puny brain of a human. Sayyyy, Milky c'mere and let me pick that lint outa your hair. OO. Here's another one. And there's one there on your shoulder.

The following ad has appeared on many blogs over the last couple of days.

Que buen blog ... un gran saludo desde Chile y visita mi blog www.warketing.blogspot.com

Sergio Gajardo

Because I am a giving, caring person, as a public service to those of you who do not speak Mexish. I shall translate. I myself am fluent in Mexish having eaten many nachos and downed much tequelia in my younger days.

It says:

Gentlemen, do ju have teesny penis? When ju are loving woman do she ast, "Es he in jet?" We can fix. Make teensy penis big like horse. Jus wan tablet in morning every day and penis he grow big and strong. Ju will smile at heem every morning when ju make first jizz because he so big and beautiful, like horse.

De big penis pills is not legal in most coutry so we make clever desquise and make look like Flintstone vitamen. Flintstone vitamen very legal. Big penis pill taste vedy good. Like ze fruits.

If ju wan pill. Is just 49.95. Pill is miracle. How much ju pay for miracle. Lots of dollars, I bet. To order big penis pill call Crabcake today. Do not wait. Ju friends will all be look like big horse penis and ju vill steel be teensy pencil poker if ju wait too long. 1-800-big-bone. Ast for Crabcake. She send pill clever desquise like Flintsone vitimen.

I KNEW I shouldn't have tried to help those two.

Now I'm in full-freak wedding gear with a meaty, one-eyed......

WILL YOU TWO STOP LAUGHING!

If I get out o'this, I'm gonna beat the living poop outa both of them!

Why oh why, didn't I just stay over there in my corner? Why do I have to be such a sweet, caring person?

SHIT!

TOUCH ME THERE AGAIN, OLGA AND I'M GONNA PULL YOUR FAKE EYE OUT AND RAM IT UP YOUR ARSE!

Cute, real cute. Jane and Milky are singing the Hawiian wedding song......off key. If my butt wasn't duct taped to this chair I'd beat 'em over the head with it.

Somebody get us the hell outa here, will ya?

We need bail money. Preferably before Jane ends up married. Our new roomie Olga has taken a fancy to Jane and told her, "You're gonna be my bitch, baby." (shiver)

Normally Jane is pretty open minded as you know but ..... Olga only has 2 teeth and she smacks her gums something awful when she eats. And she's also kind of .... well, big.

The first hour we were here she carried little Janie around in her big meaty arm like a worn out teddy bear. Milky and I tried to pry her loose but, Olga is a beastie of a gal. Anyway, ever since Jane finally got loose she's been hidin under the bed muttering curses. The more pissed off she gets, the stronger her Aussie accent gets and it's really turning Olga on. Now the beast is trying to lure Jane out by showing her, her.....well, her package. It's gruesome! Mostly because Olga appears to be turning herself on and when Olga is turned on, she salivates. You can't hardly cross the floor to the john any more without slipping in it.

Milky being the natural nester that she is tries constantly to comfort Jane. And I just noticed that Olga keeps looking down Milkmaids top every time she bends over to talk to Jane under the bed. I sure hope Olga isn't a Mormon or she might marry both of them.

As you can see, I'm keeping my distance. It's every man for himself in the big house. Sorry, Jane. Sorry, Red but I'm sure you understand. I mean, Olga's pits smell like battery acid. And in my defense I am trying to round up bail money.

OO OO. Here comes dinner!

Crap on a cracker it's catsup on bread again. We had the same damn thing for breakfast and lunch.

We do have a tv in here on the wall but the only thing they ever show is "Cops".

Ugh oh. Jane just made a bullet out of her catsup bread and hurled it at Olga and....wait a minute.....NUH UGH! OLGA THINKS IT WAS ME!

SOMEBODY TAKE UP A COLLECTION. QUICK. WHATEVER YOU CAN PULL TOGETHER.

Damned HoneyHive. We never would have gotten pinched if it hadn't been for her.

Poor Milkmaid. She just gave me access to a pic she probably never shoulda given me. bwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa ha ha ha ha ha!

Enough of this. I must get back to my creation, post haste!

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!

pssst. For those of you who remember the old days at Friday's, Olga is making a comeback. And I do believe 2 years off the net has given me renewed energy. snicker snicker snicker.

Monday, January 09, 2006

THIS JUST IN.

The following clip was taken from a hidden security camera in the rear of Crabcake's laboratory near the stink bush burial site of HoneyHive. Though Dr. Crabcake professed to be extremely distraught over the cloning accident that took the life of a vital young woman, the following clip seems to prove otherwise. Dr. Crabcake and her assistants are now under full investigation for possible homicide.

When this reporter asked Dr. Crabcake how she explained the clip she said ........

"I always giggle at funerals. Didn't ya read my profile? It's like a nervous tic or something. I've been kicked out of at least two funerals for giggling like a hyena and those were family members. Ok, for instance, when my grandfather died, the lady playing the organ sang off-key. I mean, wayyyyyy off key. I did ok until my cousin shot me this worried look. (she knows I have an affliction when it comes to dead people.) Anyway, soon as I saw the look on her face .... I dunno... it just seemed funny that she was so worried I would lose it that..... well... I lost it and started braying like a jack-ass. Which surprisingly set off a chain reaction. There were at least 2 rows of people hiding their faces and laughing hysterically. So I didn't get kicked out of that one.

Next time my uncle, who was a mean drunk that beat his kids, died. I made it all the way through until the minister said, "Sonny was well loved by all and will be sorely misssed by his family." Little sister who sat on the other side of "the squirrel" leaned over at that time to say, "I knew it. They got this guy right out of the yellow pages. No way in hell did he know Sonny." The squirrel elbowed both of us and hissed at me not to start. Big guy sitting on my other side muttered, "Oh shit." And next thing I knew, I was howling laughter so hard I started to wheeze. I was politely asked to leave. Big guy had already grabbed his coat in anticipation of this event. Since it happens regularly.

Another uncle (they dropped like flies for a few years) pickled his liver so bad he was green when he died. They piled on tons of pancake make up but..... it only made him look like a black guy with a bad fungus problem. We stood at the casket, the two sisters and me (big guy won't go near a casket with me anymore) The squirrel once again took the middle ground in an effort to control the situation. She's the nice one. In an attempt to cheer up our grandmother the squirrel says, "they did a nice job with the make up. He looks much better." My grandmother nodded and I blurted out, "Which dead guy are YOU lookin at? He looks like a martian." Little sister chimed in, "or a zombie. The walking dead....wooooooo."

Now the squirrel has this thing she does when she's pissed where if she can get to us she'll squeeze our elbows. It hurts like a bitch. Normally we protect ourselves but this time we didn't see it coming. Little sister has a temper and the elbow pinch set her off but good so she hollers (loudly) "Pinch me again and see if you don't end up in that box with him!" I glanced back and sure enough, everybody was staring at us. Once again I got nervous and ..... you guessed it ..... brayed like a jackass. And once again, the big guy had the coats ready by the door.

I had a big family and they're all pretty much dead now. Ask anybody who's left. I have dead people issues. I couldn't help but laugh when we buried her. It's a sickness, I tell ya!"

Though her words rang true, this reported still finds the the following clip to be incriminating. Time and a full investigation will tell.

DAMN IT TO HELL! I CAN'T GET THE BLASTED MOVIE LINK TO WORK RIGHT! UGH! Curse my addled pea-brain anyhow. This is driving me mad!

A tragic accident occured late last night in the laboratory of a prominent Scientist. A distraught Dr. Crabcake was kind enough to grant the following interview immediately following a massive explosion which knocked her silly.

Interviewer: Dr. Crabcake you appear to be missing an eyebrow. Did that occur during the mishap?

Dr. Crabcake: ddddddd duh duh doo dooby. (Crabcake shakes her head at this point in an effort to regain proper speech patterns.) hm? Eyebrow? er...no...I shaved that off accidentally on magarita night.

Interviewer: Can you tell us what happened here?

Dr. Crabcake: mmm. Yes. RightO. Well, I put Honey in the cloning machine and flipped the switch and set the timer as always. But then, I got hungry so I decided to nuke ...er....microwave ....a .....um....a hot pocket. Pizza flavor. When the microwave wouldn't start I gave it a little tap on the side like this ..... TAP...TAP...TAPTAPTAP! It began to vibrate and spark and then.....and then......well, next thing I knew I was over there. (Dr. Crabcake points to the far corner of the room where a large hole made my her head marks the crash site.)

Interviewer: And what did you find when you came to your senses?

Dr. Crabcake: Huh?

Interviewer: I said, what did you find when you woke up?

Dr. Crabcake: My hot pocket was burned beyond recognition. I could only eat the stuff in the middle and it was pretty stiff.

Interviewer: No no. What did you find in the cloning machine?

Dr. Crabcake: Oh. Yeah. Sorry. Well, HoneyHive's body had rearranged itself. Terrible mess. Just terrible. She wasn't breathing. I thought about doing mouth to mouth but .....well, ick. So I called my assisstants and we buried her out there behind the stink bush.

Interviewer: But you're sure she was dead?

Dr. Crabcake: I'm a professional. I know dead when I smell it. Unless..... naw. Nevermind.

Interviewer: You must feel terrible about the loss of this young girls life.

Dr. Crabcake: Oh absolutely. It's heartbreaking. (then in a whisper) Are we about through now because I'm postitively starving. Digging a hole that large really works up an appetite.

It's not long or red anymore. When I went I told them what ever you do, don't give me a neat cut. Cause I am not a neat person. I'm sloppy and disorganized. So they gave me a sloppy, disorganized cut. ahhhhhhhhhh ha ha ha ha ha ha! It's about 15 different lengths.

One thing for sure. It's easier. I don't have to do anything but wash it. I could get caught in a tornado and it would still look the same. Not sure that's a good thing. Ok. What do you think, long and red better? Or short and blonde?

PS. One dumb blonde joke and I'll chase you down.

Honey! NOT MY DOG! She was a virgin. Damn you.

Well, this certainly explains her sudden craving for a cigarette and a street corner. Not to mention that weird rash.

How many stray hairs are stuck in your teeth anyway? How am I ever gonna get a decent DNA sample for cloning?

First clone hasn't worked out so well. But it wasn't my fault, honest. Honey must have had one of Lou's hairs stuck between her teeth when I took her DNA.

Not to fret. I'll go make another one.

Anyway I'm sure there are lots of guys out there who'd like to get with Lou but just could never get past his body, you know? We could still make money off of this one.

I might be getting the hang of this. I gotta practice some more.

For those men who are posting all the cheesy come on lines to Honey, all action starts here. Pay me $4.62 and I'll put you in the book. Just call 1-800-man-bich for reservations. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know it's not spelled right but you only get four numbers.

Don't wait too long. She's going fast.

any STDs obtained during Honey's services are not the responsibility of management.

NO REFUNDS!

I can't tell you how I am suffering for the sake of fine art. Ay yi yi! I need medication or chocolate. Yesterday I got the thingy I needed to hook up the pc so I could use my old cut and paste program, a.k.a. "Old faithful". But when I turned the computer on nothing happened. Blank screen. No sound. Nadda. I smacked it a few times like I always do to get it running and while I was doin' that I noticed it wasn't plugged in. K, I plugged it in. Turned it on. Nuthin'. nada. nyit. I was on my way to get the big guy for assistance when all of a sudden I heard this crackling sound behind me. I turned around and sparks were flyin outa the puter all over the place. Ooooookay then. Then I distinctly smelled burning plastic. So I unplugged it and went to ask the big guy if this was, you know, a bad thing. He calmly looked at me and said, "I can't believe you asked me that." Then got louder (several octives) and said, "YES, IT'S A BAD THING! YOU WEREN'T BEATING ON IT AGAIN, WERE YOU?"

"No. Huh ugh."

"Did you drop it again?"

"mm. nnnn...no. No don't remember dropping it lately. No. Pretty sure."

So now I have to learn to use this other program for the mac. And it's harder than hell. You have to read stuff. My eyes are spinning around from reading so much stuff. It uses layers WHICH I CAN'T UNLOCK! THE LITTLE BASTARDS!

No. It's ok. Really. I'm fine. I'll just go back and try again. How hard can it be? Right?

SHIT! shit shit shit shit SHIT!