Showing posts with label Crazy and Cracked Out. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Crazy and Cracked Out. Show all posts

Thursday, December 19, 2013

~ Gift Ideas (aka: These Exist III)

My last position when I worked at a hotel (a million years ago) was as concierge.  It was a perfect fit for someone who knows shit.  Notice that I didn't say I know useful shit.  In fact, it's fair to say that most of the details being housed in my gray matter fall into the realm of random.  Perfectly useless.  ...Ya know, until some situation pops up that makes a weird lil' (useless) tidbit I've had tucked away something that could help you out.   And lets face it, who couldn't use a some gift help this time of year?  (No tip necessary) 

I'm a big fan of a multi-taskin' tool which is exxxxactly what caught my fancy with this man gift.  A collar stay that allows a guy to fix a lil' sumthin'-sumthin', open my beer perhaps pop a adversary's eye out if necessary and keeps him lookin' classy.  Seriously?  What's not to like?  Titanium Collar Stays

If you're searching for the perfect gift that says, 'I'm a narcissistic asshole', then kidz, I gotcha alllll taken care of.  I'm not sure a present to another person is supposed to imply that you think somehow their life can be improved by having a you doll?  With that said?  And in, what may indicate I'm a bad person I am fucking obsessed with having a lil' BBG doll.  A tiara?  A dumbass smile?  Big hooters?  ...Oh, hellz yes.  I feel like Uncle John (my cute ass dog) would immediately plunder for stuffing and gnaw off my appendages like to be in charge of me for a change.  Build Your Own Doll

In celebration of several states going all weed legal 'n all, and for those of you still scratchin' your head for a gift for your favorite pothead I'm pleased to present Cannabis Scented Incense 

I'm hopeful that next year the inventors of that ubiquitous (if you've been on YouTube recently) poo spray (in case you haven't seen it) will be marketing poo spray that smells like a roadside portapotty! 

In other, I'm-amused-by-things-that-are-what-they-are-items news.  Or as I like to think of 'em as-- fantastic clusterfucks of irony, is a gift that is mind-blowingly spectacular.  Nay.  Boobtacular.  While I've never owned a pastie, I can't conceive of a better pasties than an actual nip pastie.   And I can't imagine what girl wouldn't love the ability to hide her nipples by displaying anatomically correct fake felt nips?   Nipple Nipple Pasties 

For the glug-glug-ers on your list I like a gift that monitors and alerts the recipient that they are taking too long to get tipsy.  A great gift for anyone on your list that makes you think, 'ya know, I like (insert name here) better when s/he's got a lil' booze on board'.  Problem solved.  You're welcome.  Wine Glasses w/ 10 Minute Stem Timer  

Another alcoholcentric gift that caught my attention is a new incarnation of something I highlighted way back in the 2011 Gif Ideas (aka: These Exist II) when I included the big ass flask.  At the time it was the most fantastic flask I'd ever laid eyes on, with it's 64 oz. holdin' stainless steel confines.  But this year I discovered a bigger ass'd flask.  This 128 oz. giant ass flask is an item any drinker and ol' school Honey I Shrunk the Kids-er would certainly love to glug.  Giant Ass Flask 

It used to be there were boat people and non-boat people.  But now there's a third option.  A killer option.  Behold the Killer Wale Submarine for only $90,000 you could give someone the gift of free range poseidon-ing. 

Check again.  That's a submarine.
If your sense of adventure runs a lil' more land based, or your bank account isn't gonna cover a $90k nut gotcha covered on that one too.  Next time you tell someone you 'love them to the moon and back', you could literally show them the exact spot.  For under $30 you can get in on a piece of moon, baby.  (Please note;  'Getting' in on a piece of moon' is not a euphemism, nor is it the same as mooning, which we all know is a gift you can give for free.).   Lunar Land

While I can't fathom when a bubble wrap suit would actually be necessary?  I can't exactly say I think it's a bad idea either.  Pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, POP, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, POP, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop...  Bubble Wrap Suit
Wanna bring a lil' culture to the person on your list who has the crafting skills of a 7 year old?   The Latch Hook Rug Mona Lisa Kit is your gift-y problem solver.  In fact, I just solved the what is the BBG winter project is gonna be, problem.
Yarn Mona Lisa?  Hellz yeah!
I feel like when the apes take over it will be with the help of man's best friend.  (It's entirely possible I dug the Planet of the Apes a lil' too much as a kid.)  Why will our closest animal friends turn on us?  Two words:  Dog Bikini  I know this will not keep some people from thinking aaaaafuckingdorable and making a purchase, so thank you in advance for letting me know that you are that crazy dog person, and that you are in collusion with the apes. 
I hope your gift giving just got a lil' weirder easier.
Related Odd Gift-y Posts:


Thursday, November 21, 2013

~Something(s) You Don't Know About Me?

 In no particular order, some random ass shit you may not know about the ol' BBG:
  • I once *had* to punch a Chicago Police Officer in the face.  ...What I didn't have to do but did fuckin' anyway was to look down on him in my tres ladylike pink and white skirt/jacket combo and heels as he laid sprawled out in the bushes while I super assily told him, "and don't get up" as I sauntered away. 
* He was warned that if he did X, Y ( Y = I will be forced to kick your ass) would happen. 
He dumbassidly decided to do X.  And what am I, if not a girl of her word?

  • I have never had Peptol Bismol.
  • When Uncle John (my dog [for Uncle John involved posts click here]) winks at me I always wink back.  Just in case this is the time he's trying to initiate meaningful communication.
  • I do not read fiction. 
  • Thousands of travelers have been woken up by moi.  A hotel I worked at used me as the voice of the wake up call greeting.
  • For some reason I think seeing a cab over is a lucky sign.  A good harbinger for the day. 
(A cab over engine rig, or as I always call 'em, a 'flatface')
  • Two of my friends since childhood, LEM and GinCat married guys who they met through me. 
  • My college roommate was killed in a car crash.  (No, one does not get automatic A's.)
  • I have never seen:    It's A Wonderful Life, Titanic, Gone With The Wind, the Sound of Music, or any movie containing Elvis, Steven Seagal or Wesley Pipes Wesley Snipes. 
  • I once asked George Clooney if he "wanted to take a picture with me"--  as if I was the prize in the impromptu photo op.  Things I still have?...


  • Like Magnum P.I., I have been up in a helicopter.
  • I am kind of a slow burn when it comes to people screwing around with me.  It takes a minute before I'm going to strike out over what someone is doing to me.  Fuck with someone who I love and/or is important to me?  Well, by the time the offending party can blink I'm already designing a plan to dispose of their body.
  • I was once named in an ad published in USA Today by my (at-the-time) company for displaying superior customer service.  And all of this time you thought I was nuthin' but a stone cold bitch.
  • As a kid I advanced to the State Science Fair.  Twice.  And all of this time you thought it was just looks.
  • Unless it's to see the worlds biggest ball of rubber bands or sumthin' equally as cracked out 'n crazy and amazeballs I do not believe in stopping during a road trip.  Except in dire emergencies all eating and peeing should be sync'd to gas tank fill-ups.
  • I have been a bridesmaid in 11 weddings. 
  • I sucked my thumb until I was?  10?  Maaaaybe older?  I had a spot on my thumb from where it rested on my bottom teeth that took years to fade.
  • The only reason BBG HQ has any level of neatness and order to it is because I am simply too lazy to let shit get so out of control that I'd have to spend hours to get things up to visitor worthy levels.   Based on my desk and/or car people usually seem surprised that it doesn't look like an episode of Hoarders over here.
  • I outside of straight up survival could never kill an animal.  But at least once a week some asshole makes me contemplate sitting down and makin' a list of some people.
  • An organization published the first ad/graphic/logo/whatever ya wanna call it I designed, when I was 16.
  • I don't like rice, or fish, really, but I love sushi.
  • When I see a man parked in an isolated parking spot I always assume he's wackin' off.
  • I still have my baby fork.  Much to my Mother's chagrin I still insist on using it two times a year.
  • Unlike Katy Perry, I have never kissed a girl.
  • I have a printed funeral plan that several key people know where to find.  I have already named pallbearers, who's reading what and who is in charge of various aspects of gettin' me in the ground.  (Spoiler:  There will be bubbles and beer.)
  • For some reason when I'm driving the words 'left' and 'right' mean nothing to me.  (Please point to indicate direction.)
  • I can still do the splits.
  • This is one of my all time favorite pictures of me.  I spied some horses walkin' down the road whilst hanging out in Megis Co. one weekend.  I don't know who took this picture.  Or more specifically why they fuck they decided to take it from this angle, but I love it.  I've since titled it, 'Asses'.
  • I can whistle a (any) song like nobody's damn business.
  • I can drive a forklift.  In a skirt and heels.
  • I would/could never drink Bailey's Irish Cream.  Not to be gross ( --the sure fuckin' sign I'm about to be gross:  You have been warned!) but it looks like a shot of jizz.  No.  Thanks.  It think it's probably what bukkake porn stars drink at happy hour.  


Friday, July 19, 2013

~I May Have 99 Problems

But I'm pretty fuckin' grateful this isn't one... 

Now if you still don't know what the hell I'm talkin' about, no worries.  I confess;  I am an ol' advertising girl, so noticing oddities about ads is kinda second nerdy nature.  Obviously, the cracked out picture made me think what the fuck? drew me in, but it was the text that made me think whaaaaat the fucking fuck?? wanna scratch my head.

Ok, here's a hint:

I'm a lady chick and I don't even know what they're talkin' about.  (Which is not a great sign in an advertisement.  ...In fact, clarity is kinda an integral part of what makes an ad successful.  Unless, Squatty Potty is gauging success on the number of times "whaaaaaat the fuck" is the initial response to their ad, if that's the case;  Mission Accomplished.) 

Dear Lady Problems,
As the owner of boobs and a uterus, I'd like to express my sincere gratitude that you have selected some other skirt(s) to harass.  While it's true, your vaugeity and mystery does make me curious about you, (no offense) I hope we never cross paths.  Ever.

Other Odd Ad Posts:

- One Of These Things Is NOT Like The Other

- Built In Redundancy


Friday, February 17, 2012

~I Have A Dream?

Sumthin' weird is goin' on.

(...I know, and that's unusual how?)

I'm having dreams.  I know everyone has dreams and it's a matter of whether one remembers them or not.  Generally, I do not have recall of my dreams.  In fact, the last dream I remember having was (as near as I can pinpoint by where I lived when I had the dream) was 1997ish, when I had a completely cracked out fantastical dream where my Nana was piloting a plane as we spiraled through some clouds as we landed in Hong Kong (really?  Hong Kong?) as I was passing out Resse's Pieces to the other passengers.  Obviously, nuthin' peculiar 'bout that.  (Please Note:  Nana is not, nor has ever been a pilot.  And for the official record, I'm not that big of a fan of Resse's Pieces.  Additionally, I've never been to, nor had any real desire to go to Hong Kong, making my dream all the more rifuckingdiculous.)

Occasionally, I wake up feeling like I've had a dream, (usually as a result of a nap and not a full nights sleep) but am never really able to access it or piece it together even when I've put effort into the quest for my dreams.  Just a hazy 'sumthin' entertaining' was going on while my peepers were closed feeling.

But this past week or so I've been much more aware of my dreams.  I had a dream that included my first serious boyfriend.  The nature of his appearance in my slumber movie I cannot say, but I woke up recognizing that he'd played some sort of role. 

Last night I had a dream that included an odd scenario where the players were my friend Somp, an infant and Jack McCoy.  Um, yeah, that Jack McCoy:

(Law & Order mainstay, TD Ameritrade pitchman
and BBG dream participant, Sam Waterson)

For some reason unbeknownst to me, Somp and I were being held hostage in close quarters with other people (who I didn't know/can't remember) in a dark room and were being monitored by someone with a long gun with night vision and I was in charge of keeping this miscellaneous baby alive in addition to serving as a voice of reason for our group.

I somewhat wish I had more details about the mysterious circumstances unfolding in my sleep.  Sumthin's telling me that musta been quite the situation.  My other hand tells me that it was sure to be crrrrrrrrazy and is probably best that I don't have all of the pieces to the dream puzzle.

Even more dumbfounding is why all of the sudden I'm cognizant of my dreams?  As I say, it's just been the past week that I've had any sort of awareness of my dream state.  And absolutely nuthin' has changed during that time.  No addition of any psychotropic drugs.  No new foods.  (Wait!  I remember a dream in maybe 2005 that involved Dean Martin, Don Rickles, the Fonz, Joanie Cunningham and moi playing poker [<-- nope, I do not know how to play poker] that was so incredibly ridiculous that I actually woke up from my deep sleep to find myself [somewhat to my boyfriend at the time chagrin] laughing out loud, that I attributed to the restaurant we'd had dinner at possibly dosing my asparagus, as it was the only thing I'd had different from him.)  I'm under no more or less stress than the norm.  Not even a new laundry detergent.  It's just (as are my dreams) weird.

Back when I used to dream regularly my dreams tended to revolve around a few central themes;  falling and breaking my teeth, somehow overcoming some crime situation-- usually beating/killing some crim and naughty dreams.  All probably falling within the norm of dreamland.  But again, we're talkin' y-e-a-r-s ago.

The new onslaught of dreams have been certifiably wacky.  Clearly.

Because this is so unusual for me, remembering dreams not the loony content, I've found myself looking forward to sleep instead of fighting it as normal.  Free entertainment?  Hellz yeah!  I'm already hoping tonight I can find out why and what was going on in that dark room, who's fuckin' baby that is, how I'm gonna out fox the sniper/hostage taker (look who's super confident) and what the fuck Jack McCoy is up to these days.

...Maybe it's a sign to start turning off the tv when I'm sleeping, or at least not fall asleep to Law & Order.

(Extra reading credit from Listverse:  10 Amazing Facts About Dreams)


Friday, December 2, 2011

~Gift Ideas (aka:These Exist II)

T'is the season for the (drum roll) 2nd annual BBG Gift Ideas post (aka: Things you probably didn't know existed).  If anything strikes your fancy you'll find a link (= "click") accompanying each cracked out, fuck'd up or 'hummmm' inducing item you see, because yes, these exist.   And you can have 'em.  For the official record, no, I have noooo affiliation with any of these products/companies, other than the misfortune of randomly discovering them on the interweb.  Hence, I cannot vouch for the veracity of any of the following products and/or companies.   

With that said~    

For the man who has everything except a date, and because I guess ya can never be too prepared fit for whackin' off:

The Free Flexor (click)

My Pet Fat (click)

For $59.95 you can give the gift of a 1lb. "anatomically correct replica of body fat."  Of course for those of you on a limited budget this holiday season a $10.00 Krispy Kreme gift card can probably achieve the same, without the pesky nuisance of having to carry your fat in your hand.

Personally, I think they're limiting themselves by marketing only to Spock devotees.  Why alienate the 'talk to the hand' contingent?  (Details - click)

Party all night and sleep all day (without being noticed)! 

No more bullshit trying to stay awake while sitting in some boring ass conference in Vegas after an all nighter of free booze at the slots studying pertinent materials, noooooo Eyelid Stickers (click) will allow your favorite recipient to be hungover and sleep in creepy peace. 

I don't know what I could possibly say that would be better than just getting to the fact that this exists (click), so I won't.  That's right kidz.  Pussy in a can.

(Special thanks to MOK who discovered this while on vacation.)

When squatting is too much trouble...

The Off Road Commode (click) provides jusssssst the ticket when your favorite outdoorsman needs to answer natures call.  Speaking of tickets, indecent exposure, anyone?

A perfect disguise gift for any crime committin' livin' in cold climate friend on your list.  [Beardheads (click)Or perhaps a great way to tell that special someone, 'I think you're so unattractive you should probably cover that up at least half the year'.  They also offer a more ZZ Top version, vikings and a Santa dome/face warmer.  

I question exactly how much time you actually have to spend lookin' at your dogs asshole before this becomes a thing. 

You've named her Cinnamon.  Perhaps purchased her some baby high heels or the pole dancin' doll, (<-- yes, those exist too, Google it.  I'll wait...)  but if you reeeeeally want to secure her spot in the champagne room as a 'featured' dancer you'll wanna give her a (ahem) head start with this super classy (and instructional) t.  (Available in 0-6mos and up)  Tassles for tots t-shirt (click)

Please keep in mind, I'm in no way suggesting that this is a good idea.  But, I am saying it is an awesome idea!  Serious biz, what could possibly go hinky from carrying around a big ass flask filled 64 fluid ozs. full o' your favorite hooch?   Giant Ass Flask (click)

...Of course, that probably means you'll need to get one of these (click) too:

I find it distressing on numerous faux phallus levels.  But it claims to have helped "thousands of women's sleep".   I suspect if they added a battery it would help more women sleep, but the Kush people (click) didn't ask me how to best market their product.  Whateves.

Lastly, to leave on a classy note;  Bald is beautiful on a grown ass man.  However, no so much for a tot.  And I ought to know.  I was bald until I was 2.  Spare the newborn on your list the shame of baby baldness with the Baby Toupee (click)

(This is 'The Donald')

If this page didn't supply you with everything you need for your Christmas, Hanukkah, Festivus, Kwanzaa, Boxing Day, St. Stephen's or National Bouillabaisse Day (<-- yep.  That exists too. 12/14) gift giving needs, please refer to last years list (<-- click), chocked full of other equally weird quality suggestions.

(Indulge an Aunt BBG)

Haaaaaappy Birthday to Godkid Mini Me!!
Related Gift Idea Posts:


Wednesday, October 19, 2011

~Lions, Tigers & Bears: Oh, My!

First, I wanna thank whoever is responsible (God?  Mother Nature?  The kind hand of fate?  Jacob and/or Edward?  The Beebs?) for letting me live to see such a day.

My how I do love those, 'well, I didn't think I'd ever see/hear that' moments/situations.

'Round these parts, we're coming up on the season where kiddies benefit from snow days, too bitterly cold days and even fog days.  But today was a first when I heard some area schools were closing due to an unusual situation unfolding.  Specifically, Don't Let Your Child Get Eaten/no school day.

For those of y'all not in central Ohio, to bring ya up to speed:

Because I am a horrible grandchild, my first inclination was to torment my granny with these breaking news details.  (I'm sure that's some kinda sign, and likely, not of the mentally stable good variety.)  Anyhoo, there I was 7:12am jingling Nana. 

(Early ass ring-a-ding-ding)

Nana:  Hello.

BBG:  Just wanted to let you know Uncle John and I have already been out and are still alivvvvvvvvvve.

Nana:  Good.  What's that mean? What's going on?

BBG:  (surprised that she was unaware of the ta-doin's.  Her local news, all of 60 minutes away isn't carrying such unique news, as if there's just a ton of more interesting tales outta Buckeyeland this morning?)  Well...blah story details, blah, fuckidy blah.  (massive amounts of childish and likely inappropriate laughter)

Nana:  My God!  Next time you take Uncle John out you take a chair and whip!

(I love that Nana's got me all top hat and black taile'd up!  Awesome.)

The story broke last night and needless to say I was sucked in from go.  This morning I woke to my local news reporting that Jungle Jack Hanna (Columbus Zoo, Director Emeritus and national wild life celebrity) was on scene directing things, reassures me that everything will be jussssst fine soon. 

One of Jungle Jack's sage pieces of advice was, "if you see an animal, stay indoors."  (Noted.)  I think you can see why I'm so confident in his abilities to rectify this situation. 

While I am over? filled with glee because of this crackedout, crazy ass tail tale.  In seriousness, I do feel sad about animals who have been put down.  Apparently today one of the things Jack is overseeing is trying to tranq the remaining roaming animals instead of shooting on sight.

News Flash:
(Who fuckin' knew there'd ever really be a news flash here in BBGW?!?  ...It truly is an amazing day, kidz.)

My inside scoop, who will remain anonymous, has friends in the area, tells me scuddlebutt is that the owner of the animals was recently released from the pokey on gun charges and that his wife had just left him.  My source also tells me that he opened the cages/gates and free ranged all of the animals, left a note saying something to the effect of "Marion, you hated these animals now their yours to catch/deal with" and shot himself. 

I'm sure as the day goes on we'll be able to check the veracity of that you-heard-it-here-first story.  The only thing to make this day better would in fact be that I scooped Ann Curry, ya know?

STAY ALIVE my peeps!!


The Sheriff in the jurisdiction, along with Jungle Jack held a news conference about 1/2 hour after this was posted and confirmed that the owner had committed suicide and was the person responsible for freeing the animals.  (Note to Ann Curry:  Suck it!)

Since then my source reports that he may have done this on his estranged wife's birthday.  And that this guy has a history of crazy.  Apparently the former Vietnam vet (pilot)/owner once landed a plane at the local fairgrounds while a horse show was happening for reasons unknown, and had had some legal troubles over starving a herd of longhorn steers as part of his record.  ...Watch out Brian Williams!


Monday, October 17, 2011

~And The Hunt Was On

As last we left off, I was engaged in a deeeelightfully wacky scavenger hunt whilst house/dog/carsitting.

Items retrieved include:
  • Mini Mt. Dews.  I'm 99.44% sure were placed so that I could feel like a giant when drinking them.  (P.S.  I did.  P.P.S.  It was fuckin' awwwwwesome.)
  • These things that I'd only seen on TV prior to discovering (making me super excited to try 'em!):
(They tasted just like I thought they would.  Like a host/wafer/Jesusbiscuit
[I possibly have made the last up.] with nonpareils, hard chalky nonpareils. 
Honestly, I kinda really liked 'em.)

  • Some Mike & Ike bubble gum
  • Magazines
  • Pringle's
  • Barrel O' Monkey's (Jealous?!?  Yeah, that's right I got a Barrel O' Monkey's.  Suck.  It.)
  • Mini candy bars
  • A blow up bop-it type toy:
Sadly, this wonderful and entertaining turtle toy had the life expectancy of a goldfish.  A sad, overheated, livin' in dirty water, possibly rabbies ridden goldfish.  (Dear Anyone new here:  I am fully aware aquatic life neither carries, nor is susceptible to rabies.  I enjoy making things up from time to time for my own personal merriment.) 

Yesterday I blew it up and bopped (punched) it a few times, causing Abby Cadabby (Mom and her code nameless main man's lil' d oh double g, to skitter for shelter and safety, while Uncle John jusssssssst fuckin' stood there.  Lookin'.  Like, 'what could be weird about this situation?'.  (Which may be very telling of poor ol' Uncle John's BBG HQ existance...)  I wouldn't swear to it in a court of law or anything, but I think I saw him shrug his wee doggy shoulders. 

(Side note time:  A big ass shoutout to my Mom, who sat there, watched her grown ass daughter come in, sit down and proceed to blow up an ages 3 and up latex turtle and begin to play with it and didn't immediately Google the local straightjackeotorium.  Lady, I bless the day you were born.)

After a probably too damn long period of time few minutes of playing.  ...And of course after making my Mother stick her finger through a turtles tail and whack it around a few times, likely for seeing something else shiny or sparkly I sat it down.  We continued to gab away and all of the POP!!  Turtle toy that I hadn't even named spontaneously exploded. 

RIP Latex turtle 
Sunday, October 16, 2011 - 4:45pm
Sunday, October 16, 2011 - 4:58pm

Always in my heart.

Of all of the things I found durring my Adventures In Sitting (click here), perhaps the most surprising was a lil' sumthin'-sumthin' I spied while looking for um, well, I'm quite the wordsmith something (remote?).  I'm pretty sure that somewhere on YouTube if you type in "WTF" you'll find footage (<-- complete fib) of a BBG, somewhere in middle America, in a room alone with two dogs witnessing the biggest double take ever.  Followed quickly by actual ol' time-y peeper rubbin' to ensure that I was seeing what my synapse's were telling me I was seeing.


In case you also find yourself thinking whaaaaaat, lemme clarify that:

So, yes.  I am leaving you today with big ass squirrel balls.  That's right.  It's squirrel ball Monday kidz.  And may it be the best one ever.


Wednesday, October 12, 2011

~Adventures In Sitting

Uncle John and I have left the general crackedout'dness solitude of BBG HQ for a few days of house/dog sitting at AnonD HQ.  Their eldest chocolate lab, Logan, has a few health issues, of the 'I'm gettin' to be an old dog' variety.  He's not bad off, just not good enough off to be traipsing through every sketchy trail in the Upper Peninsula of michigan with AnonD, her hubby AnonR and the two 2 year old pups.

This does not mark the first time I've been in charge at AnonD HQ.  The running joke is that 33% of this place is mine, when they both are here.  (50% if I'm visiting and AnonR is at fight club, but the first rule of that, is of course, that I cannot speak about it...)  My household responsibilities generally include safety issues.  Occasionally I'm in charge of some minor chopping or stirring if I'm serving KP duty.  I've been voted Most Likely to blow out a candle or lock a door for all my life straight, which is probably a good trait in someone you've turned over 100% care for your homestead, pet and with a quick, "here are the keys, there is the car if you need or just wanna drive it", a sporty AnonDmobile.

Because AnonD HQ is also on the BBG Annexed list, other than having to pull my toothbrush outta a bag and having to adjust to a different cable provider/remote, it's like being at home.  I know where everything is and how it works, so out-the-door details are usually helpful data like, "we'll be back Xday", "the gun is here" or "I left brass knuckles on the table for ya".  (Note:  Contrary to those real statements, AnonDVille is a very nice and safe suburban hamlet, all elementary school this and community pool down the idyllic beautiful established tree lined street that.  My actual safety here is much closer to Amish safe than to name any big city safe.  But always nice of a friend to arm you with a lil' sumthin' lethal as a departure gift, no?  Tres thoughtful.)

Seriously, who wouldn't like a few days get away to a place with a big ass backyard for Uncle John to free range in, a natatorium (unfamiliar w/ a natatorium? - click here)  flat screens in every room, a laptop left for ya, a fridge full of your favorites and brass knuckles?  Oh, P.S. that's only 10 minutes from your house in case you've forgotten something?  Talk about a no problem, win/win, easy ass favor to do.  Sold.

I was welcomed to my sitting adventure with flowers and a thank you card informing me of a scavenger hunt within the confines of AnonD HQ.  (Man, does somebody know how to entertain a BBG or what?  I mean the only better entertainment woulda been, 'hey, Vin Diesel or Rick Rossovich/Michael Rappaport/Bruce Willis/Edward Norton/Stanley Tucci/Bob Saget [I like a lotta different guys] is your co-sitter who's duties also include everything you say to do, ya know?  <-- Funnily enough, prior to my arrival, AnonD did sanction any BBG gettin' it on that needed to happen.  I assured her that if'n I needed to be involved in brown-chicken/brown-cow, I could probably just manage that at my own place.  But again, it's a good friend who tells ya you're free to get it on in their home, a good friend indeed.)

Because I watch too much tv am safety conscience, before they departed I asked if either of them had seen 127 Hours.  AnonD then started to describe some movie commercial where you pay 4 minutes for coffee, which was about when I knew we were talkin' about two entirely different movies.  I told her how 127 Hour guy had to cut his muther fuckin' arm off because he went wild-ing and nobody knew where he was in order to dispatch a rescue, and that I felt like in addition to having their house still standing and their dog still alive, one of my responsibilities of sitting should be helping to direct life saving rescue crews, if hopefully not needed.  This of course making me have to utter a sentence I didn't know I'd ever be called upon to construct;  "I love you guys enough to not want you to haveta chop your muther fuckin' arm off, so text me to let me know your general whereabouts in case I need to get all 911 wit it." 

As they pulled outta the driveway my parting words were, "have fun doin' some shit that sounds horrrrrrrrrible to me." 


Camping with God's creatures who are trying to kill you (hey, it's called the food chain for a reason, people.  And yes, we're supposed to be on top, but out in nature, they've got home field advantage and the ability to diabolically inter species team up.)  while dodging roaming wilderness-y adept psychopaths on the run/loose/lamb, and possibly yeti's, does not sound like my idea of a good time.  Sherpa-ing days worth of provisions and the actual, albeit fabric, roof over your head, while traversing rocky and pitchy trails while attempting to not fall the fuck down?  Hellz to 'tha no.  Being exposed to bug bites and ivy's o' poison?  Pfffffffffffft.  Nofuckin'thanks.  ...But serious biz, ennnnnnnjoy allllllll that.

I'm happy "camping" on an inflatable (bigger than my actual bed) bed, that Uncle John seems to believe is his own personal canine bouncy house.  Where there is Direct tv.  A shower, microwave and gourmet bottles of ginger ale.  ...Just one of the items discovered on my scavenger hunt, so far!

Also, so far:
~House still standing (Check)
~Logan still alive (Check)
~No need to use any lethal weaponry (Check)
~AnonD & AnonR still alive (As of last text; Check)

...But, ya know, totally keep your fingers crossed and all.


Friday, June 10, 2011

~Food Porn

This is pork tenderloin:

Or as AnonD, who cooked it named it, 'pork tendercock'

(What more could I possibly add?  Enjoy your day. ...Oh, and you're welcome for my ability to control all of my, "the other white meat" assy comments I'm self censoring.)


Thursday, July 29, 2010

~One Of These Things Is NOT Like The Other...

As you may already know, I get a kick outta catalogues, even if I have no interest in their offerings. I'm not even the catalogue buyin' sort. But the shiny pics hawking this, that and the fuckin' other always get my attention.

So, imagine my surprise as I'm lookin' through a catalogue called Carol Wright. (Which, by the way she ain't...) How I got on this mailing list, I'll never know. It's brick a brack and as seen on tv stuff and junk geared to old ladies, as far as I can tell... While I'm not young, I ain't that fuckin' old, but whatever. So there I am perusing the offerings...

I'm flippin' through the pages...

...And flippin'

...And flippin'

...And flippin'

...And whaaaaaaaaaat the fuckidy fuck?!?

Surprise! Vibrators or dildo's, honestly, I've never known what the difference is. And cock rings. Yep. No notice. No warning. No 'hey granny, you're about to experience a MI', nuthin'.

Now, I'm no Prudie McPrudester, but I'm guessin', no, I know a lot of people out in the world are. I would think a goodly percentage of the target market of this catalogue, for fucks sake, are. Seems like there'd be some sort of transition from crickets chirpin' to the brownchicken, browncow music of a 70's porn, no?

And then right back to granny sundries...

I think it's just the weirdest thing. I've even shown this to a few people just to see if if was just me who found this amazin'. And yes, I've handed them this booklet and said, "one of these is not like the other, go". All three have had the same face I must have had when I first stumbled on it. The face of complete and utter, what the fuck?!? So, apparently, it isn't just me who finds this odd. And funny. Hope you do to.


Sunday, May 23, 2010

~Dental Care & Antioxidants- A Bad AM Combo

(Yes. All five brushes are mine. I prefer not to use the same brush two brushes in a row. It's not overly kooky. I mean, when I travel I just pack one, but really now, at home shouldn't I have things exxxxxactly as I like 'em?)

It was just like any of the scads of times I've brushed my teeth.

Until I spit.

My foamy frothy came out blue in hue. Catching me completely off guard. I don't use a blue toothpaste. And then my mind flashed to those old commercials for some washy/pasty something or the other with their tag line about "pink in the sink", and thought, "what the fuck does blue mean?!?!", in my still somewhat early morning haze.

In what was far longer than I'd like to admit it took me to remember, it dawned on me that Uncle John had demanded to go out absolutely first thing in the morning (typically he wanders down and hangs on the sofa until I come downstairs) and that I'd stopped in the kitchen and popped several blueberries before coming back up to brush the chompers and kick off the other festivities involved with BBG daily maintenance.

Nuthin' like starting my day off with a confirmed case of dumbassedness.

P.S. Happy Birthday to (code name) Brad Gray and my H.S. Homecoming date!

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