Blowhan

You all have such strong Lohan reactions. Aren't you glad I decided to watch the Lohan True Hollywood Story yesterday? I was going to watch Loretta Lynn's Haunted Plantation on the Travel Channel, but Mr. H decided that would be boring and took the remote away.

Christ. As if he knows from boring. Later he made us go to a street festival! He duped people into coming with us by not telling them how much it was sure to suck. And suck it did. Although I did eat an empanada. Colombian style. That means filled with cocaine.

Posted 11:07 AM by Licketysplit

Lohan



Lohan lohan, lohan lohan lohan. Lohan lohan! Lohan.

Posted 10:55 PM by Licketysplit

Joleeeeeeeeene, don't take my snack cakes either

Yeah, bitches. Today I tied my pregnant lady friend to the car and drove real slow. Apparently jogging makes babies come out. Will this work? We aren't sure yet. We also fed the baby Mexican food. I hear this gets babies really mad. They want to come out just to kick your ass because they are babies and you gave them Mexican food. What a thing to do. Now, this reminds me of a joke about luring a tapeworm out of a human host with a Nilla Wafer, but I will refrain from telling it. OK, I really just can't remember it. I can't remember anything these days. But the punchline is "I want my Nilla Wafer!"

A concerned reader wrote in to ask the internet something.

Dear Ask the Internet,

Why are people such cockfaces all the livelong day?

Signed, I'm Cranky

Dear Cranky

Because people is retarded. People is also wrong, and people is impossible. People is like herding cats.

Yours, the Internet

Posted 5:23 PM by Licketysplit

Holy holy hannah

My waking life is much more satisfying than my dream life. But this might only be due to the poor quality of my dreams lately. Last night I dreamed about eating a bowl of cereal. This took about a million years. It was Grape Nuts! I don't even eat cereal. So tedious. Take a bite, and then another bite, and if one is having fruit along with the cereal, one must worry about ratios and golden rectangles and cosines. It is too much.

But sometimes the universe just tosses a delectable bon-bon right into my mouth, Jolene. No, more like an everlasting gobstopper. People humiliate themselves without me lifting a finger. I complain, and the problems solve themselves. My lips to God's ear. God said to have Kraft dinner again today, but I told God this would be directly contradicting Jessica Simpson. We have struck a solid bargain with tuna right out of the can and a martini. I'm kidding about the martini, Lord. I don't drink until Happy Hour, and that is not now.

***

Dear Ask the Internet*:

A friend keeps sending photos of her child. Her child looks crosseyed. Should I ask what the hell his problem is? I really wonder. You'd think he would have grown out of it by now.

Signed, an Observant Jerk

Dear Jerk:

Sorry, Google doesn't know enough about what is wrong with your friend's kid yet.

Yours, the Internet

Tomorrow: Find out what the internet thinks that stuff stuck in your keyboard is.

*Snaps to Lisa, who also likes to tell people what is wrong with them.

Posted 11:38 AM by Licketysplit

Rhubarb

Oh mercy and muskrat love. I am nearly at the finish line in my race to wear the same pair of shoes every day this summer. Of course I count summer as June 1 to August 31. Meteorological summer. Hey, at least I'm wearing shoes at all.

I've got God talking to me again, and you all know what that means, and Jessica Simpson told me to start doing squats. So I started doing squats, and my butt hurts. She is right to tell me to improve myself. I am glad the celebrities of this nation are looking out for me. It only hurts because I am weak and useless.

Anyway, God said to have Kraft dinner for lunch, and I can't argue. He helped me find my book of stamps. That's more love than some parents show their children in a lifetime.

My own mother recently let me know she is reading a book that reminds her of our life in the woods. She said "There is a description of drowning a rat in the toilet, and lot's [sic!] of references to Green Acres and about every backyard having a willow tree. (Ours would have had a willow tree except the deer ate it twice so it was still pretty small when we left the country. It was the tree we planted to commemorate Cara's birth.)"

She has such flair, and she doesn't even know it. The rat in the toilet was my discovery. I was about six. I just opened the lid, and there he was, swimming around all beady-eyed. We never figured out how he came to arrive in the toilet, but there was a complicated theory involving the septic tank and a ventilation pipe. My dad held him under the water with the fire tongs until he stopped swimming. He was much too big to flush.

Posted 1:24 PM by Licketysplit

The lady of alot

Earlier today, the Sally Hershberger of Lowell transformed my hair into some garish assortment of stripes. I think I hate it, but I'm not sure. It's OK. I can't have nice things. Sally's young daughter is jailed in the salon for the summer, and she sat at the reception desk computer looking up breeds of dogs on Yahoo!. Every now and then she'd shout out a new one to her. "Akita! Basset Hound! Irish Wolfhound!" I shouted right back: "Airdale! Pomeranian! BOSTON TERRIER!" This does pass the time. I loved shouting out the dogs.

Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene
I'm begging of you please don't take my man

While my hair was baking in its foil jacket, I received a phone call asking if a price I estimated covered some wildly complicated new functionality that no one even mentioned in the RFP. I yelled "No, and never call me again! Just thinking about you cost me $300!" and hung up. Then I got another call, and I yelled "I told you never to call me again!" but it was Mr. H, and this made him sad. Then I got a parking ticket. Did I mention the first people I yelled at were monks?

Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene
Please don't take him just because you can

Wow. Yelling at a monk on a cell phone in a salon is a whole new level for me.

And I can easily understand
How you could easily take my man

The monks did call back, and they were ready to bargain. I prevailed.

My happiness depends on you
And whatever you decide to do, Jolene

Content Challenge is nearly over. Praise. I hope we can get through this without another mashup.

Posted 12:58 PM by Licketysplit

Tell me a story all about how

Well, how did that make you feel?

I didn't like it. It made me cry.

Is there anything we can do to avoid this situation in the future?

I guess. I just keep telling myself it's not about me.

What about everyone else?

Everyone is his own worst problem.

Should Brenda have that retard baby or what?

No, she should have zero babies. Don't spoil it for me, I didn't watch last night.

What did you have for lunch?

I am embarassed to say. I drank strawberry lemonade with it.

And then what did you do?

I went for a walk with a friend.

What is a good thing to eat?

Lindt makes these dark chocolate and pear bars that are quite satisfying.

Posted 4:59 PM by Licketysplit

Daddy, I want a trained squirrel

Happy St. Declan's day! What did you buy me?

We have come to a difference of opinion, 'round the Vomitola household. Mr. H thinks I am simply not funny. While I regard the concept of stalking myself as comedy gold, his first thought was that he was worried that I actually do this around the house while he's not here.

Oookay. Clearly, we have a problem. Either he's a jerk, or I'm not funny, or I'm criminally insane and haven't noticed yet. Actually, the beauty of being criminally insane is not caring what anyone else thinks. I will always think I'm funny, and Zellweger thinks I'm funny, so that's all that matters. The rest of you can hang, hang I tell you!

Ah, self-esteem is a wonderous thing. It's all part of being a massive celebrity. Did I mention that I have diamonds glued to my toenails? This is really quite fetching.

Posted 12:12 PM by Licketysplit

Retroactive, and it feels so good

And....I got nothin'. Sure I've got the sif, but what did the sif ever do for me? I've got an email promising me a $450k home loan and a penis large enough to whack a whiffle ball. Oh, and I have a private plane. I hear you don't.

Posted 12:07 PM by Licketysplit

Celebrity skin

It occurred to me that I refuse to actually achieve anything in my life because I still consider fame a viable career option. One of these days, I'm going to get swept up in the current and deposited on Oprah. I swear. Certainly, this would be more difficult if I had the entanglements of a real career. Luckily, I am generally fancy free, although one client just accepted my ridiculous total whore price for what promises to be the most annoying job in history. I am going to word the contract so I can fire him at any time. And Mr. H can feed the cat if I am called to Hollywood.

I realized that I am ill-prepared for fame, so I decided to create a Learning Annex-style crash course on how to handle it.

Part One: Dealing with unwanted attention

I decided to stalk myself. I started by going through the trash. The bathroom trash is really not that interesting. It's mostly dental floss, and tissues with odd stains on them. Is it blood? Makeup? What? You all have these tissues, do not try to act like you don't. The kitchen trash was the motherlode. It was filled to the brim with liquor bottles, pregnancy tests, rubber gloves, and empty pill bottles. Great! Now I know the name of my pharmacist. I photographed everything. I left Zellweger a note to shred everything, even the banana peels.

Then I decided to practice my expression for when I'm photographed on the sly. I sat in the living room with a camera for what seemed like forever, but I didn't spot myself. Finally, I caught myself in the bathroom mirror. Augh! I look so fat! The camera is adding ten pounds. Nevermind! Composure. Happy place. I took my shirt off and pretended I was on a yacht. Composure.

As I left for the grocery store, I put on my largest pair of sunglasses and a fur bikini top. I threw red paint on myself as I was distracted by fumbling with the car remote. That'll teach me! Never again will I let my guard down.

Then I was recognized at Starbucks. "Your drink will be up at the bar, Licketysplit!" And then again, "I have a soy latte for Licketysplit! Have a good day, Licketysplit!" My God, can't these people see I am just out for a quiet afternoon? There's a time and a place for fawning over a celebrity. Composure! I smiled graciously and adjusted my sunglasses. I pulled out a Sharpie and signed the bar. I'm sure they'll want to hang it on the wall in a glass case now.

Tomorrow: Part Two: Money management

Posted 12:25 PM by Licketysplit

It was easy! Because In stinked.

Gah, internet, gah. I woke up with my head wrapped up in the covers, like mummy. I think I was secretly trying to smother myself. I don't know what's up with the universe these days. I am constantly spotting 11:11 on the clocks, and last time that happened, we spent our life savings. Who needs Vegas when one comes factory-equipped with a lifetime supply of stupid ideas?

Some things are clearing up, however. The battle of the printer was won decisively, by getting a new one and kicking the old one. The mystery of "Who's Been Pooping on the Stairs?" was solved. It was the woodchuck all along! And I thought it was the raccoon. A real novice move. And I wondered where the clean laundry was hiding, but Zellweger left it in the dryer.

Hey, let's talk childhood. I was on the phone with my mom the other day, and we got to discussing my old drawings. I asked "Do you mean the Easter Island ones?" She read me and Loves-the-Bus the story of Thor Heyerdahl, and since I couldn't sit still, I was allowed to draw. I drew the natives skulking through underground tunnels and rolling logs under those giant stone heads.

No, my mom was referring to the drawings she made me do for a contest. A children's theater company in Richmond selected a drawing for the cover of the program for each season's production. I recall determinedly scribbling about Cinderella and Pinocchio and Peter Pan and Charlie's Angels. And then my mom said "And your drawings were so wonderful, so full of life."

"Yeah? Well how come I never won?" That used to burn my ass every time I saw some other kid's drawing on the next cover. Even at age six, I had a strong sense of injustice.

"I don't know, I guess they never had the same feeling after I made you go back and correct them."

"You what?"

"It was like your pencil never left the paper on your first pass. You just had all these details in your head, and you just let them flow. So I'd have you go back and straighten out lines and things like that. You always drew windows crooked."

"...."

Ethicist: should I bill her for therapy, plus my usual hourly consulting rate for time spent in therapy?

Posted 11:02 AM by Licketysplit

Already today

I ate a mildly fermented orange. Will this kill me?

I directed a whore who is new in town to a place to get her acrylic nails repaired.

I stocked up on a whole ton of birth control for the day it is declared illegal.

The cat punctured my exercise ball. I shouldn't have thrown her anywhere near it. Now I realize all the howling was just to warn me not to eat the deadly orange. Sorry, Cat Lassie. Nothing a little duct tape won't fix.

I had my hair cut by the Sally Hershberger of Lowell. Next week she is going to bring out my inner bottle blonde. No wonder that whore sought me out. While I was in the salon, a man came in and assumed the asian stylist did massages. What an assumption! I know she really runs a counterfeit Harry Potter ring out of the back of the place.

Zellweger forgot to add fabric softener.

Posted 10:59 AM by Licketysplit

Ghost thought

I am writing this, but someone else is thinking it for me. At last, at last. Outsourcing thought is amazing. All it took was getting stuck in a thunderstorm. Safest place is in the car, my ass. I should have worn my jacuzzi suit. Ghost thinker is writing down a memo. No, ghost thinker is making me use the voice memo feature on my phone. Thanks!

Earlier I was at the market, and there was a big pile of Harry Potter books on the floor. They were marked down to $10. How could I resist? I bet these are illegal Harry Potters, written in a sweatshop in China. The stitching will break down after one washing. So far, the plot isn't what I expected. Harry Potter has returned to the king with the swords of several famous assassins, and he's going on and on about he slew them. The king is skeptical. Jet Li is there.

Posted 9:31 PM by Licketysplit

Nobody's perfect, not even meeeeeeeeeeeee



I'm hungry. Also, I just moisturized. The internet deserves to know. I probably should not post while hungry. I probably shouldn't post at all. I have a pasta deficiency. And a cookie deficiency. I ran out. It's like Darfur over here.

What is the most offensive thing I can possibly say? I am not sure, but I'll know it when I get there. Should I go with a fat joke, an ethnic joke, a handicapped joke, or just make throw-up sounds? The sky truly is the limit in Content Challenge.

Mr. H had some fancy test at the hospital today, and they said he is still most likely not dying. They stuck needles in his arm and passed an electric current through a spot on the arm marked with an X. The verdict: he did not enjoy this much. Maybe they could jazz up this test, like an episode of Fear Factor. Tank of electric eels, please! I used my medical training to diagnose some people in the waiting room as elderly. Later, on the drive home, I diagnosed someone as a douche bag. The telltale sign of this disorder is total disregard for the turn signal.

Posted 5:05 PM by Licketysplit

Sunday, sunday, sunday

At this point, the casual reader of Content Challenge is probably far more taxed than the writer. See, I can just say any old stupid thing, and it ostensibly counts. Maybe I am expressing myself. OK, I'm so not. Hazelnut beer is being consumed. I'm watching an old episode of America's Next Top Model as I type. Whatever happened to Yoanna anyway? Haha, you totally just read all that. I offer no refunds, since this is free "content."

OK, I'm sorry. I love you! I'll Zellweger you all tomorrrow.

We went furniture shopping again, and it was an eye-popping experience. Willy Wonka was showing on the IMAX screen in the store (yes, really), and grubby children swarmed around with chocolate smeared all over their faces from the free Wonka bars. People appeared to be using the available wheelchairs and scooters to get around the store just because they don't like to walk. Yeah, and I get sick of breathing. But somehow I soldier on. Oh my gawd, Yoanna can't walk her way out of a paper bag. She would be so fierce on a Rascal scooter.

Posted 8:18 PM by Licketysplit

I'm a planner

Later I plan to be very drunk.

Last night I shared a bed with a seven-year-old, a la Michael Jackson. Or not. But someone decided sleeping on the floor in a Disney Princess sleeping bag is scary, and our creepy old house is, well, creepy. Just because bats sometimes roost in the rafters, and the place is haunted. So we watched the bonus DVD of The Incredibles approximately twelve times until the whimpering stopped. For once, I'm not talking about Mr. H. His niece and nephew were over for a sleepover as part of a long-promised birthday gift for his brother. The rightful parents managed to sleep until 8:30 this morning, which is about two hours better than I did. Urchins! I mean choir of angels.

I've been thinking about children a lot since a close friend is soon to deliver (a human baby). I am reading a book called The Birth Partner in preparation for the big event. So far, reading has consisted of opening the book to an illustration and yelling "euuuuaaghhhh!" and then making Mr. H look at it. I think I'm supposed to be there to keep my friend from punching someone. Every time I see her, I stifle the urge to shriek "Boil some water!" or "I don't know nuthin' about birthin' no babies!" But I keep it together because I know she'd hit me. And she'd have the right to give it back even worse some day. Perhaps when I'm sitting in the V.I.P. lounge at the airport, sipping a drink while my purchased child is trundled off the plane on the luggage conveyer. Oh. You say they let children fly in the main cabin these days? I wouldn't know; I am always schnockered on tranquilizers during flights.

Oh, but I jest. Someday we may inadvertently create life. Scratch that, I am going to get so, so pregnant! Probably while drunk. I can't wait to lie to a child of my own. I told li'l nephew to concentrate on turning on the DVD player with the power of his mind while Mr. H used the power of the remote to turn it on, and the kid totally bought it. Later, a woodchuck came up to the deck door. Nephew screeched "What's THAT!" The animal released his bowels and ran off, and we told the lad it was a river chipmunk.

And this concludes another episode of Bad Idea Theatre.

Posted 2:56 PM by Licketysplit

Candy, candy, candy, I can't let you go

Cat post! The topical is sooooo...don't make me say it...irrelevant.

Coco is currently enjoying: Like Treats - Brewer's Yeast & Garlic from Castor & Pollux Pet Works. I must also speak highly of their litter and Organix pet food. That's right, worms, I order cat litter from the internet. She don't like the cheap stuff.

Second part of the post: today I drove by a sign that read "RUMP." It was supposed to say "BUMP," but someone took a liberty. This made me laugh aloud. I also enjoy it when lettering is rearranged to say "ASS" in any context.

Third part of the post: Yesterday was Bastille Day, but I totally refrained from commenting on it, because I knew I would do it in the future! How's that for efficiency.

Fourth part of the post: Some jwerk insinuated that writing many posts at a time and backdating them is cheating at Content Challenge. Well, of course it is! I'm the president. And while I may have taken a bit of a spill, I will still finish the race with head held high and socks filling with blood.

Posted 4:40 PM by Licketysplit

Mama's little baby loves diesel, diesel

I am so in the wrong line of non-work. During a lull in my breakfast of cookies, I read an article entitled Unborn babies carry pollutants, study finds. I was intrigued! Do they carry them in adorable little gingham rucksacks or perhaps in their swim bladders? Do they swallow them in condom balloons and try to act casual in the Miami airport?

The first sentence is certainly alarming: "Unborn U.S. babies are soaking in a stew of chemicals, including mercury, gasoline byproducts and pesticides, according to a report released on Thursday."

Then they go on to mention that this data was collected from ten (10) samples of cord blood. That's ten (10) samples. This is the same group that came out with the study last year on chemicals in breast milk that had some moms I know going "OMGWTFBBQ, my milk is made of oven cleaner!" And while no one wants to baste her fetus in methylmercury, one must wonder where these ten (10) mothers sampled lived? Next door to a Superfund site? Three Mile Island? Under the Jersey Turnpike, that's it. Maybe C.H.U.D.s are not the ideal population for study.

Ah, Amurrica. I don't doubt that our environmental laws are ridiculous, that everything gives you cancer, and that every day I am ingesting at least a Big Gulp worth of pure poison, but since when is ten (10) samples a reasonable study? I am going to get in on this hot study action. Did you know that one out of one cats in this household does not like wheat litter? One out of one husbands enjoys preparing grilled food (rife with carcinogens!). One out of one questionably employed wives spends too much time on the internet. Why, that's 100%! Where is my sponsorship? I'm saving lives here, jerks.

Posted 1:13 PM by Licketysplit

Everything's up-to-date in Kansas City

Oh, bitches, please. It's finally Wednesday, July 13th, 2005. Do I look older? No, really. You are lying. Don't flatter me, toady. I can see it when I look in the mirror. Do you see these white hairs? Look, this tooth is hanging by a thread, and even a liberal coating of vaseline won't help my under-eye furrows. Christ, these forehead lines are like twin Mariana Trenches. Since when did I turn into Joan Rivers? This must be a side effect of all my exposure to the elderly lately. Shoulda worn a mask.

So, in the spirit of making ridiculous decisions, I finally found a surgeon who will take off my little toes. You have no idea how happy this makes me. Would you believe I found him in the back of Boston Magazine? There are a lot of questions you have to ask a doctor when you meet him or her for the first time. I like to start with "Have you been to medical school?" However, that's not a dealbreaker since I know I am adept at many medical procedures just from watching the surgery channel. It's good to have standards, but let's not be Nazis.

A friend needs to find a pediatrician for her soon-to-be-pupated larva, and I came up with a handy interrogation list for her: "Have you ever removed a tail? Describe the ugliest child you've ever seen. What does foreskin taste like, anyway?" She never got to ask these because some other couple rambled on during the group information session about dumb things like vaccinations. NEXT! I can't wait to teach her baby to swear and mix momma drinks.

Posted 2:21 PM by Licketysplit

Where do bad folks go when they die?

Still in the future here. Looking good, looking good. Cars don't fly, but all the highways are underground now. Also, I live in Canada. Did I ever tell you that story about moving to Canada? It was way back in ought-seven, and I sneaked over the border after killing a trucker. I had to survive the first few cold nights inside an elk carcass. I eventually got a job sewing fake Kenneth Cole shoes.

Oh. None of this ever happened, you say? That's too bad. I always have super vivid dreams, and sometimes I'll think of some piece of a dream and have to remind myself "Naw, you did not really push that person into a volcano." It's a bummer.

These days I have this new thing where I do whatever I want as it occurs to me. It's going well so far. My wants are few. Today I wanted chocolate chip cookies, so I bought some. I'm also enrolling in off-shore medical school. My experience in the ER proved without a shadow of a doubt that I have the right stuff to be a doctor. Yes, follow my finger. I diagnosed the child in the next room with a case of poor lineage, and I gave myself a skull and crossbones tattoo with Betadine. I also diagnosed several people in the waiting room with obesity.

Posted 11:10 AM by Licketysplit

Go to a lake of fire and fry

Content Challenge is not going well. This is Monday's post, written in the future on Wednesday. No es bueno! I have zero inclination to get photos out of the camera. So I'm going to vamp for a paragraph and then churn out Tuesday's entry. The internet is such a dang sweatshop. I'm saying yes, yes, yes when I should be saying no. But hey, if a six-year-old can make my shirt, surely I can -- hey, why isn't iTunes playing through the stereo correctly? WTF. Some of us have problems here. Well, not as bad as yours. Or yours. But you'll never even understand you have a problem, so it's all good. I'm going to put this cable into this hole and see what happens.

Posted 11:04 AM by Licketysplit

Diagnosis: delicious

I seem to be operating on some kind of tape delay. This is yesterday's post (Sunday), but I am writing it today (Monday) about events that happened today. We have a slingshot-around-the-sun situation on our hands. Are you with me? Follow my finger. Left...right...up...down. Ok, now touch your left index finger to my index finger and then touch your nose. Back and forth. Quickly now.

I had planned to saddle the internet with an extensive pictorial on my current lack of a hairstyle, but things happen, and we spent the day in various waiting rooms while Mr. H got expensive medical tests. They still don't know what's wrong with him, but it's not the di-uh-beet-us or a stroke. Time in the ER waiting room operates on a different frequency. Ellen came on the TV, but the wall clock still read 10:55. No es possible! Rather than puzzle through this break in the space-time continuum, I busied myself learning Tagalog from the "Your right to a medical interpreter" poster.

Tomorrow (Yesterday today): hair. I am tired. Good evening. I'm going to press against the palms of your hand now. Push back, hard. Good, good.

Posted 10:01 PM by Licketysplit

Take me out

Forgive me, for I ate a plum, and it wasn't that delicious. Some people have all the luck. I have already failed at Daily Content Challenge, but I am going to back-date this and carry on with a stiff upper lip. You are so polite that you will pretend not to notice. I'm the president; you're FOX News!

Yesterday my horoscope warned "If you take a risk (with your life) you could end up in the hospital; this is especially true toward the evening." Normally I scoff at death, but I was supposed to attend a minor league baseball game that evening. Oh! Would I be killed by a t-shirt cannon? Trampled by the Canaligator? It was AARP hat night, and I inspected the cap for hidden poisoned needles or molecules of bird flu or old age (di-uh-beet-us). The Spinners team logo is a bat spooled with yarn, to celebrate the rich textile mill heritage of Lowell, but this particular personalized hat was stitched in China, thanks to some inscrutable combo of Cisco routers and slave labor. I don't know. I don't know anything.

The boring conclusion is that I did not die at all, not even during the brief thunderstorm that passed overhead. It took me until the third inning to realize the game had started, because that's how gripping the play is. I ate one jumbo grilled dog, with ketchup (catsup) and mustard. Was it really a dog? We can't be picky. I also had a Red Hook ESB in a plastic cup. This heightened my enjoyment of Dizzy Bat. Later I had bites of ice cream and funnel cake. Holy fuck. I thought the funnel cake might be the instrument of my death, but I guess the obesity virus takes a long time to make its stranglehold known.

Then I used the power of my mind to hurt a particularly annoying child. This effort took until the sixth inning. He was jumping up and down, and when he attempted to plop back into his seat, the seat had conveniently folded into a closed position. So he fell on his ample little rump. My companions laughed at his misfortune. Don't tell me it was coincidence. Nothing is a coincidence.

Posted 12:22 PM by Licketysplit

Supertanker

Internet, let's talk about my hair and hard times. Normally I prefer to frequent a salon where they bring you espresso and dole out near-orgasmic scalp massages. It is the happiest place on earth. However, the repeated experience sets me back over a thousand dollars a year, and I'm not even including parking or gasoline mileage. And color is another several hundred at least. So I realized this all makes me a Bad Person, and here I sit with grown out layers and visible white hairs. I am going to the cheapo local salon to have a white stripe dyed down the middle of my head, like skunk. The savings are substantial.

Suffering from existentialism also costs money. Did you know I used to be crazy for free? I know, like peasant. Weekly therapy is fifteen bucks a whack, plus fifteen for the psych-pharm guy, plus thirty-five for assorted medications. If I went back to just lying on the floor and kicking when I felt extra anxious, I could save over $100 a month! I think I will get right on that. Poor decisions are my right as an American. Drink more potato wine, peasant.

My eyesight is terrible in my old age. I cover up by buying enormous sunglasses so no one can see me squint. This also saves on Botox. Also, I don't eat unless someone makes or opens the food for me, so that cuts down on the food bill. I have a system here, people.

What do you do to save money? Expired can goods? Unlicensed plastic surgery? I want to know!

Posted 11:40 AM by Licketysplit

Beads that sparkle like a prism, snake oil for your rheumatism

OMG, I am the worst captor ever! I left my Zellweger at a rest stop two weeks ago. Didn't even notice until the laundry started piling up. Well, hell. She must have gnawed off her ankle bracelet, because I can't find her anywhere. Maybe she was put off by Theater in the Car. I think I was doing selections from Gigi that week.

And today I slept in, only to wake up to more perplexing acts of human awfulness. The mind reels. Should I go back to bed? Should I spend quality time staring into my new 10x magnifying mirror? Should I delete all these emails from MoveOn.org and NARAL hectoring me about the supreme court? Should I purchase a trailer in the woods? Should I stick my head in the oven? No, because the oven is filthy since I had to let the help go. Oh balls, I'm sure I'll think of something. A telethon! Tom Cruise is in charge of the phone bank. The prescription for PTSD is long walks on the beach and a tinfoil helmet.

Posted 1:20 PM by Licketysplit

You can't get a hug from a mug with a slug

Oh internet, I'm in pain. Why does my body fight me so? Do I not ply it with cookies? Do I not sing it show tunes while driving in the car? I give, and I give. This week's car theater theme is "the wild, wild west." O! Klahoma. And so much more.

Another installment of Complain and Ye Shall Receive: there was a dead bug on the bathroom floor for a few days. Rather than remove it, I chose to complain about it and leave it there. Choices. We all make them sometimes. I suppose it's a poor one to stage a contest of will with a dead bug, but there you have it. The bug held ground admirably. Then yesterday I was vindicated because the cat sauntered in and ate it, clean as a whistle.

Today's contest: me vs. the printer/copier.

Posted 11:14 AM by Licketysplit

Where's my satan flag

Well, I survived another spectacular weekend. I endured food, lovely weather, people, outfits, things, and stuff. I was displeased that no one lost a thumb in the amateur fireworks derby down the street. I live for the day I can scoop up an errant knee cap and spirit it home to my freezer. "Why no, I did not see your body part. Oh, that must smart!"

Mr. H emailed me from the next room to remind me that he started a blog. He also requires more orange juice and some soy creamer. So far, he has managed to post a few photos and the equivalent of "hello, world," but I have faith that I will boot him in the ass until he says something of substance. I am not so sure I will get his orange juice. What am I, the help? I am not helpful.

Little does he realize that blogging is hard, much like being president. I think about Iraq every day. I also think about my hair. It's hard to write something that makes absolutely no sense at regular intervals. Making sense is for masochists.

Posted 8:59 AM by Licketysplit

Your daddy's rich, and your mama's good looking

It's July, hi, hi. A Boston terrier moved in across the street. I asked him if he knows Goblin Foo. He said "Who doesn't?"

In addition to the dog, people moved into the new condos as well. I set up a lawn chair out front and loudly rated everyone's furniture as it came off the moving trucks. One credenza was so unsightly that I tipped it into the river when the movers were taking a break. You're welcome! It's called a favor in my country. A mitzvah.

In another act of great magnanimity, I taught a baby to swear. I am here for you.

I don't understand why my good deeds go unrewarded. The Swedish car assembled in Japan has a big crack in the windshield. Maybe this is God's way of letting me know I should let the air out of Drunk Upstairs Cheryl's tires.

Posted 4:20 PM by Licketysplit