Stuff that makes my head explode


A list of incendiary vices

Prescription drug commercials about digestive or urinary problems, skin conditions, depression due to said conditions, or erectile dysfunction med symptoms that cause erections to last longer than 72 hours, sudden blindness, insomnia, and incessant howling at the moon.

Squeaky supermarket carts with broken wheels stuck in a perpetual right-hand turn behind old ladies with blue hair.

People listening to new and archived voice mail messages on speakerphone in the dressing room next to mine.

Drivers that use the brake and gas simultaneously while driving on dry, level grading.

Being stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic behind a hot dog truck when I’m starving.

Losing my car keys and finding them in the refrigerator.

Losing the milk and finding it in the car.

Trying to negotiate my way barefoot through a dark room with shards of dog bone fragments scattered
across the floor.

Stepping barefoot in dog puke and having to hop all the way to the bathroom at the opposite end of the hall,
only to find that the door is locked.

Not being able to read anything without glasses and because of it . . .

  •     Setting the oven to 450 degrees instead of 350 ergo blackened meat loaf a la residue.

Reaching for a dishrag with wet hands and find that it is not there. It is across the room on the kitchen table with
the other dishrag that went MIA two days ago.

Not being able to find my glasses on my nightstand or anywhere else since I need my glasses to find my glasses.

Waiting for a gaggle of geese and extended family to cross the road, so they can poop on my lawn.

What makes your head explode?

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Honey, Don’t Look at the Spam, or You’ll Go Blind

SIERRA MADRE, CA - MAY 29:  Seventieth anniver...


Beware of Literary 
Internet Debris . . .

Caught in the Cyberspace Spam Continuum  

I admire the creativity involved in the latest alien spam that landed in my inbox. Both contained riddles that I found intriguing and actually considered clicking the hyperlinks until Caution and Restraint grabbed me by the shoulders and shook some sense into me.


Subject: Black sheep of the family

It was made up of no fewer than thirteen vessels, and was manned by some 1,200 men.

Hello, i am Ramona Applegate

Try it

Ah, what have you done to me, and why.

So he reasoned.


Subject: Neither fish nor flesh, nor good red herrin

It was cabots intention to establish himself permanently on the shores of this great river system.

Hello, i am Katherine Titmuss

Try it

Sergey kuzmich, from all sides reports reach me, etc.

This stout young man was an illegitimate son of count, a well known grandee of catherines time who now lay dying in moscow.

Any one want to take a stab at the riddles?

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Dead Mice Don’t Eat Cheese

This is based on a true story. Of course as a fiction writer and satirist, I tend to embellish the facts. So, what is actually true? The mouse, the cat, and me, of course. I did grab the cat with the mouse in its mouth, tried to shake it from the cat’s mouth, succeeded in doing so, then subsequently stepped on the mouse, killing it.


In retrospect, I wonder why I didn’t just step on the mouse in the first place and eliminate the other steps. Unfortunately, at the time, I had erroneously given the impression that my home was a safe house for mice, which resulted in an infestation several years later. Seeing many mice scampering about, in addition to both exhausting and confusing my cat, dramatically changed my viewpoint on the sanctity of mice life.


Disclaimer: This is not intended to defame pet mice or other pet rodents, or encourage the early demise of said pet mice or pet rodents. I do not support the use of rodent fur in the manufacturing of coats or other rodent fur products. I DO NOT HATE RODENTS! I just prefer not to live with them.





The Blitzcheese Offensive





One squeak of “Mouse!” from my son’s lips was enough to galvanize me. I abandoned the pile of dirty dishes teetering in the sink and scampered after the mouse. I followed it through the kitchen and into the living room, where the mouse slipped behind the drapes.


“Not smart,” I said, and grabbed a fistful of drape, wiggling it. The mouse took off again, this time zipping behind the couch. Apparently, what field mice lack in intelligence they make up for in speed.


If only I had noticed my cat conducting rodent reconnaissance from the piano, waiting for the right moment to begin a Blitzcheese offensive. Before I had time to react, my cat dove to the carpet and vanished behind the couch, appearing seconds later with the mouse in his mouth, its tail draped above his lip like a Fu Manchu mustache.


As the cat headed for the open porch door, I chased after him. I thought of myself as a hero of sorts, a mouse good-doer, and champion of the rodent way of life. With arms outstretched, I lunged at the cat, targeting the curve of his back. My first attempt proved successful. The mouse now dangled from the cat that dangled from my arms.


I wedged my boot between the door and frame then opened the door to the deck. Into the dark, I lurched with feline and rodent in tow, while yelling, “Drop it!” and shaking my cat like a maraca. If only I had seen the uneven floorboard that sent me stumbling in four-inch heels. I quickly righted myself by leaning against the wall beneath the glow of the kitchen window. I drew the cat closer to the light and saw the annoyed look on his face, as well as the lack of mouse in his mouth. I smiled.


Young Ballerina Holding A Black Cat 1895

The rodent has landed! I took a victory lap around the porch with the cat still in my arms. I remained elated until the next morning when I stepped onto the deck and saw a lifeless, furry thing lying on its back with its nose pointed up toward mouse heaven.


“How did this happen?” I said aloud, but in my heart, I knew the answer. That one misstep in the dark had likely flattened the mouse, though I could not confirm the actual time of death. I never heard it scream before my boot put an end its little mouse dreams.


“I hate irony!” I screamed. This time I murdered the mouse. My cat got off scot-free an unidentified accomplice, while the rodent police have an APB out on me.

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Dublin School Finances in the Crapper – Toilet Paper Wiped from Budget


School no longer flush with funds

Toilet paper roll

Image via Wikipedia



What is the square root of a 1000-sheet roll of toilet paper?


School asks pupils to bring own toilet roll – Yahoo! News

DUBLIN (Reuters) – Irish parents struggling to buy schoolbooks and uniforms in the face of a deep recession may now have to worry about sending their children to school with a toilet roll as well as a packed lunch.

The next time a teacher asks a student to “Wipe that silly grin from your face,” the child will be prepared.


On a happier note, a school official reportedly told a correspondent for the Worcestershire Sauce Times that toilet paper rolls would be saved and then recycled for adult education art classes.


On a sadder note, it really sucks that the recession has forced a school system to cut toilet paper from its budget.


A shout out to the The Many Face of Spaces for posting this story, as well as Vidafine for the toilet paper roll artwork. Both sites feature really unique and entertaining content.

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More Annoying Words – Posted at the Confessions of a Stay-at-Home-Mom blog

I’m adding to Amy’s list of annoying words at The Confessions of A Stay-at-Home-Mom, based on survey results of the most annoying words published at Yahoo.


Amy’s list of annoying words:

  • Synergy: I worked in HR for many years where I was forced to listen to and say this word and I find it very annoying. Additionally, I have no fucking idea what it means.
  • Interface: What? Do you mean talk or communicate? If so, than say that.
  • Pendulum: It just sound dirty and I feel like a need a shower every time I hear it.
  • Bro or Brah: As in the slang for brother. I freaking hate this! Shit, just say brother. It is not as if you are being asked to say, Australopithecus brotherus every time talk to or introduce your brother.
  • Frenemy: What? Do we really need this word? Can’t we all just get alone or at the very least if we can not get along can we all just move along?
  • Enema: Isn’t that the same thing as a frenemy?
  • Green: Okay, so maybe the color green is okay and a green crayon is okay. Basically as a color I am fine with green. But man, I am sick and tired of Green everything else. Green burning fuel, Green cars (and no I am not talking about my light green VW, although it does get excellent gas mileage), Green flooring, Green toothpaste, Green toilet bowl cleaners (which lead to a rather dingy looking toilet BTW…because you need bleach to kill poop germs people).
  • Bleach: Sounds like a noise you make while throwing up.
  • Vlog: Meaning video blog, but it sure sounds like a Romanian count who beheades Turks and impales them on stakes.

My list of annoying words:

  • Literally – Literally speaking, this word is literally the most overused word in the English language. And literally, every time I hear the word, I literally think my head’s going to explode.
  • My bad – Why doesn’t any one just say, “I’m sorry,” any more. No. It has to be “My bad,” which is a twice-removed apology from a distant cousin on the other side of the planet.
  • Give me five – Five what? Five bucks? Five excuses? Five falafels.? And if you’re not sick enough of hearing “Give me five” there’s also . . .
  • Give me a high five – WTF? Just say, “Great job!” Why does every one have to be such a goddamn drama queen?
  • Dude – Is this short for doody?
  • No way – Get real! There are only four directions in which to travel: left, right, forward, backward. Pick one!
  • That’s rad – Radical? Radioactive? A Jihadist is rad. Maybe the correct usage should be “Who’s Rad?” Some radical dude who glows in the dark right before he explodes.
  • Gobsmacked – This word sounds like it belongs in an x-rated movie.
  • Knock yourself out (okay, I cheated it’s a phrase) – Just give me a brick, rock, or 2-by-4, and I’ll be happy to bang it against my head until I slump to the floor bloodied and unconscious.
  • Do me a solid – Thanks, but I’ll do my own solid. Is this some type of Metamucil jargon? Must be the headline of their new “Do me a solid” ad campaign. I guess you’ve got to be really, really close friends or really, really stupid to do someone a solid, or just be into that kind of s**t. Sorry, couldn’t resist.

I’m tagging Kasa at Life sure is a snoozefest!! to come up with more annoying words.


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