Cheeseblarg's First Official Scavenger Hunt

I was talking to my friend, Kim, because she's awesome, but also because she has been having a crap-filled couple of days, not literally, at least I don't think so, but stressful as all get out, and she suggested that she needed to get out of the house to clear her mind.  Being the awesome and creative friend I am, I offered to create a scavenger hunt for her, because adventures are more exciting than moping in public. But then, the point of scavenger hunts, as I understand them, is to have competition, so that is where you guys come in.

While you could go the cheaty route and just google crap (especially if you are stuck in an office building and aren't allowed to leave your cubicle because you are chained to it until the whistle blows-- yeah, I have never actually worked in an office setting so I imagine that is how it works, right?) there are some items that will require actual photos, and really, actually taking the pictures yourself is more fun... but if you do google, against my will, it better be super creative.

Photo sets can be uploaded to http://www.flickr.com/groups/cheeseblarghunt with a link to your images in a comment here.  You can also, alternatively, upload your images to a post on your own blog and paste a link in the comment section.

Prizes
First 3 people to post completed hunts (that are not googled/binged/searched for on the internet and show that you actually left the house to do it), win an envelope of happiness from me in the mail.

Next 3 people to post completed hunts win a special personalized scavenger hunt winner badge.
And since only six people actually read this regularly, that should cover it.

No, no, all others will receive a scavenger hunt badge for their blog, or wall, or refrigerator.

Winners will be announced in a separate post and I will request addresses at that time to send out prizes.


Now, on to the hunt!

Remember, you can be as creative as you like, as long as one could reasonable associate your photo with the item on the list.


1. A cat in a window
2. Bare feet in grass
3. Bacon
4. A squeaker
5. 3 people holding cards
6. Cheese on an entire family
7. Someone wearing a hat
8. A bird, not in a tree
9. The color red, only the color red
10. You holding a sign referring to Da Cheeseblarg
11. The cutest chocolate you can find
12. Velcro
13. An upside down book
14. Something I write about all the time but have not put in the list
15. Ice cream
16. A chance
17. Something nerdy
18. A yellow flower
19. A crack in a sidewalk
20. The inside of a grocery store
21. A person wearing a barrette
22. A scavenger

I will also accept drawings/painting for each item, but they must be done by you, and stick figures don't count!

The Chaperone

"He just likes to follow me around on first dates. Totes harmless! So... SUSHI?!"

Feel free to submit your own humorous variations of the talk bubble.

Ask me no questions.

I have a problem.  It seems, sometimes, like the words that I say are translated to the people around me by an utterly drunken bunch of babel fish.  I understand that it could be my tone of voice, or a look on my face, but people regularly translate questions I ask into demands.

It is very frustrating and causes a lot of arguments. And while I could just stop asking questions, I suppose, and stare dumbly out the window at all times, ignoring the world around me, I am a question asker by nature.  If I don't understand what is going on around me, I ask.
Apparently, other people don't do this and instead use questions as some passive aggressive message delivery system, from the responses I get, because I rarely just get an actual response to my questions... from anyone.  Everyone seems to be trying to figure out the secret code in my question in an attempt to figure out what my implication is, and all I get are scoffs when I explain that I am really JUST asking questions.  Now, if I ever got an actual answer, I might make a request using the information I received...

But most of the time, I would most likely respond with a simple "Oh, okay. Thanks."

Never say never!

I can't be the only one who feels guilty when choosing NOT ATTENDING when sent an invitation for an event on Facebook that there is absolutely NO WAY I could get to. I just feel that if I REALLY tried, I might be able to make it.

The Rock

The worst part about walking is getting rocks in your shoes.

Mischief Managed!

I made this to wear for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows part 2. I figured others might like their own.

Fluffy Shirt from Zazzle.com (my shop... clearly)
It is totally customizable, so you can make any color shirt, kid's shirts, etc.
AND there is a coupon code for the time being for 15% off:  STUDYINSTYLE

Yeah, it's been taken down... but I will find a home for it if there is any interest. Or if you have a screen printing company... *wink nudge*

Oh, and Allie Brosh liked my drawing of her and "Simple Dog" Fluffy and we had this exchange:

And if you would like to add me on Google+, be my guest!

And many more...

Tomorrow is my husband's 44th birthday.  I want to share with you the story of how I almost lost my husband two years ago to celebrate still having him today, so that maybe it can help someone else.

Me and my husband at my art show on 5/15/09

On the morning of May 9th 2009, I woke up to a crashing sound. I was notorious for leaving my shoes in inappropriate places and they were notorious for trying to murder people, so when I jumped up and found my husband on the floor at the end of the bed where I had left my shoes, I immediately began apologizing for being a total butthole and helped him up. When he took a few more steps into the bathroom and fell down again, I started to realize that the problem clearly wasn't me and my homicidal shoes.  I asked him what was wrong, he said he was fine. I asked him if it concerned him that he was falling down repeatedly, he replied, "Not really." And even though he doesn't drink, I asked him if he was drunk, just in case. He wasn't.

On his way back from the bathroom, he looked like someone walking on a moving bus.  I was terrified and told him I wanted to call an ambulance and he told me he was fine, this had happened before and had resolved itself and he just needed to lie down and rest.  He was sure it was just an inner ear infection and he would be fine.  I immediately turned on my computer and googled strokes. I roused him and made him go through the steps to tell if someone was having a stroke.  F.A.S.T.  -He could smile just fine.  His arms stayed up perfectly. His speech wasn't slurred or strange, he didn't even have a headache, so I didn't force him to go to the ER and I just stayed beside him, checking on him as he slept to make sure he was still breathing.  When he woke up, he complained that the room was too bright.  He was having double vision and sitting up made him so dizzy he threw up. When he went to reach for things, he would miss them, grabbing a few inches in front of where they were. I kept having to ask him to loosen his grip because he was crushing my hand without realizing it, as I lay next to him in the dark holding his hand.
I should have forced him to go to the emergency room, but I didn't. I'm used to people wanting me to go the ER when I know I don't need to, so I stupidly listened to him and didn't force him to go, and thankfully he didn't die.

My husband had in fact had a stroke.  The doctor called it a TIA (transient ischemic attack ), which is the technical name for a mini-stroke, which means  a stroke that resolves itself and doesn't show changes to the brain on an MRI.

Unfortunately, F.A.S.T. doesn't cover every kind of stroke.  He was having a Cerebellar Stroke, which means that there was a bleed or clot somewhere in his cerebellum.  That is the part of the brain that controls walking, and fear, and sensory input, and coordination.
For a Cerebellar Stroke/ TIA the test you need to do is “W.T.F? :P”

W- Walking -Is the person falling down repeatedly or unable to walk?
T- Touching- Are they able to reach out and touch something easily- is their grip too tight?
F- Focusing- Are they having trouble focusing their vision, or having other visual disturbances?
P- Puking- Does moving make them throw up?

If I had had this list of tests, I would have immediately dragged his ass to the nearest doctor. Like I said, thankfully, he lived.

He is mostly recovered now. It took quite some time and a lot of walking with a cane to get his coordination back.  For some time, I couldn't get him to go places with me because he was afraid people would think he was drunk. His gait is still a little off, but I doubt other people notice much. His vision is permanently damaged, it seems, as he has to wear sunglasses inside if there is a lot of light, which makes him seem like a cool guy, or a Corey Hart impersonator.
 I've asked him about it since. It was, in fact, the stroke that made him think he was fine.  His fear reaction was broken and he just felt happy and at peace.  It was up to me to take care of him and I didn't have enough information to do so, which is a big reason why I want to share our story.  Now he knows that he needs to go to the doctor if I say so, though he is probably pretty tired of me neurotically assuming he has had a stroke again.  He broke his toe last week jumping up to turn off the fire alarm at 4 am and I keep forgetting and spaz out when I notice his limp has worsened.  But he has since been heavily medicated with 2 types of cholesterol pills and as many blood pressure meds, and he has regular checkups, so his chance of having another stroke is greatly diminished.

On a walk to take photos 5/23/09

So I ask you, in honor of his birthday, please share our story with someone to let them know that thinking "W.T.F? :P" could well save a loved one's life when someone is acting like they're drunk when they've not had a thing to drink. It is not what we usually are warned about but it could be a stroke.

"WTF? :P" FTW!

Disclaimer-- I am not a doctor, clearly, I am a humor writer, and while I have spent a lot of time researching cerebellar strokes since my husband had his, I am not an expert.  My initialism (WTF? :P) is meant to help but if you think someone needs a doctor, please, call 911 or your local medical expert and stop reading a humor blarg.

The Trifecta of Distraction

I would like to entertain you today but a series of events has made it so that is actually a lie. I really like you guys, but I am now playing The Sims Social on Facebook and making a pixel person pee and cut her own grass with scissors is neverendingly entertaining.

I also started reading "The Hunger Games" yesterday and now, I don't care if Violet Bedpost dies of starvation, because Katniss is having the same issue and I don't have to make her pee or do missions where I have to bother my friends to click links and stuff.  I am up to chapter nine and all I really want to do is read.  I even delayed turning my computer on after I woke up this morning for 2 hours while I read.  Those who know me well know that this is unheard of, as I usually turn my computer back on seconds before I actually wake up.  As soon as I finish typing this, I am going back to reading.

And then, finally, there is the fact that Blogger's stats have been broken since yesterday and it won't show me what people are looking at, and it is SAPPING MY WILL TO LIVE! Okay, that might be a bit of an exaggeration, but  as I have mentioned before, I am obsessed with checking my stats and when this:

is what I am met with, it makes for a sad Jodee, a very sad Jodee who must turn to reading, and video games, and bacon to salve her wounded soul. Only, I have no bacon. I HAVE NO BACON!!!!

Can I take your order?

There are times that I wonder if things just happen to me to give me something to write about.  It is really like my life is one big chain of weird event that have no apparent reason other than to give me material.  Today I went out to lunch shortly after noon and we got stuck in a giant line.  I really wanted a bacon cheeseburger so I just stood there patiently.

After five or ten minutes of waiting, an older lady walked up with a stack of paper.  "Are you two together?" she asked us and we told her we were. "Okay, I'll start with you then."  We were smack dab in the middle of the line of about twenty people and the women in front of us turned around, incredulous. It seemed a nice touch though, that in a fast food place they would send out "Hostess Vicky" to expedite orders to get us all out of there soon. So she asked us what we wanted and we told her our order which she wrote down in lovely wide looping cursive and then, after she had written it all down, she handed the paper to me. Not to the people in the back, not to the cashier. She handed it to me. What the quack was I supposed to do with it?
I guess she was bored and wanted to seem useful? Maybe she was taking a census? When we got to the register, we had to order again, even after handing them the mystery paper, to clarify, and then, of course, they got our order wrong.

I insisted on taking a picture of it to prove that I don't just make up this stuff.

Don't Get Attached.

This morning, I tried to convince my mom to stop using crapo.com for her email service after talking her through the set up for a gmail account.  She pays 10 dollars a year for crapo-mail and has been using it since 1997.   It won't attach more than one item at a time. It sends forwards as attachments.  It takes up to two hours to send emails to my hotmail account at peak hours. It is, in fact, a piece of crap, especially for a paid service. She thinks it is fine.

I think that there is a fundamental difference in the way my generation uses computers compared to that of my mother's generation.   When I use a computer, having had access to them the majority of my life, I want the process to be completely efficient. I want to avoid erroneous clicking and mouse movements and downloading anything, ever. If I am forwarded something, the last thing I want to do is download a file to my computer that I have to open with another program to read a joke about a cheeky octogenarian ordering milk for a bath.  We don't even have milkmen anymore! And who the hell sells unpasteurized milk!?

My mom, on the other hand, is used to reading mail the conventional (read:old fashioned) way.  She expects to open an envelope, unfold a letter, and flip through the 6 different attached Sunday Funnies clipped from the newspaper, so she has no qualms about having to click 4 different things to get a stupid joke forward to open.  If she could do eBay via postcard, she would.  She won't, however, click links that I send her in emails.  Somehow she has learned that downloading things on her computer is fine, but links are super dangerous, especially those sent by your computer savvy daughter. Or maybe it is because crapo-mail doesn't generate clickable links in their incoming emails and she doesn't know how to copy and paste them...

Golden Narwhal Award- Alan

It is time for the first ever "Golden Narwhal Award" which goes out to readers with outstanding wit and comments that make me laugh in an audible manner or regularly make my day better.

The first recipient (of many to come because you guys are awesome) is Alan @ It's Not Work, It's Gardening!

Some of his greatest hits are:

". . . I don't think there are nearly as many superpower-inducing drinks around as comics have led me to believe, so you're probably out of luck there... although it would be awesome if it were a glass of medical nanobots left by a time-traveling future version of yourself, or maybe one of your descendants. They know your medical condition as well as your penchant for counter beverages, and have provided you with a cure for all that ails you."

"I think your problem with that recipe [twinkie wiener sandwich] was you were thinking of the wrong meal --  use a breakfast sausage link instead of a hot dog, and maple syrup instead of
 the cheese, and eat it for breakfast. (You might need to use 2 links because
 they're small). I just invented this. You're welcome."

"If the texts continue, your reply needs to be:
"Dude, stop texting -- she'll find out! Then what will we do? You are my life."
or something similar."

"If I were a Dementor I'd be really conflicted. "Argh, a Patronus, must flee! Oooh, it's a wiener dog, must cuddle... Flee... Cuddle... Flee... Cuddle..."

Thank you Alan, for your comments and for your continued support of the Cheeseblarg! You rock!



And thank you to Goldfish  and Tracey for these awesome pieces of fan art!

Me on a narwhal jumping over a cheese moon!

Thirsty

I make dumb choices sometimes based on misinformation and/or bland assumptions. Thankfully, the awesomeade was not poisoned... this time.

The Crazy Eyes

Here is some special insider artist information from me to the blargisphere... just in case you find yourself being constantly called crazy (in part) because you take bizarre pictures that end up on the fronts of magazines and the world continues to make fun of you...

It's really in the positioning. Any show of over iris gives that alarmed/rabid animal look. This is a no-no if you want to appear sane. In general, the lids should touch the top and bottom of the iris, but most people can get away with some under iris before they get to full dismissive eyeroll territory.

Also, for the record: Eyes should match.  So there you go... because I like to be helpful.

OMFGNOTBBQ!

I came to a terrible realization today.

Hanging out at my friend's house, we keep lamenting that the neighbors are ALWAYS barbecuing and it smells so delicious. We've even joked about showing up at their door with a plate for dinner. Then, this morning I walked out in the backyard and saw this over the fence:

I'm so sorry, Mr. Fluffypants. I'm so sorry.

Super Sneaky Lard-O-Matic

As much as I don't like offending other people, I find that just being me tends to do it sometimes. As I alluded to in "When Food Attacks," I don't diet. Beyond my base objections to it, I have a billion allergies and food intolerances and a disease that made me starve for 6 years as a result, so I'm not interested in denying myself food by choice. In general, I tell people this once and they leave me alone, but sometimes, strangers like to be helpful, noticing that I am what people consider 'OMG SO FAT!' and assume that I am obviously dieting and need their helpful advice, which I don't. I've learned from this that it really freaks people out when you respond to secret special diet information with, "Oh, thanks, no, I don't diet." It's this scandalous moment when I could have just as easily said, "Oh, no thank you, do you have grandchildren? I would like to roast them and eat them while baying at the moon, naked."

I know that it is easier sometimes to just nod and wander away, but some people just won't leave it alone.

The diet conspiracy lady approached me several years ago in the frozen food aisle of a Publix Supermarket. I had to work the next day and didn't feel like making myself lunch and so I was looking at the huge selection of frozen entrees that were on sale. I stood there, slack jawed, looking at all the different varieties wondering if any of them were actually palatable. Crazy diet lady sidles up to me. 'Oh lord, she is gonna start talking to me,' I realize after I've made accidental eye contact with her.
"A lot of choices, huh?"
Fuck... fine, my fault for looking at her, "Sure are. Do you know if any of these actually taste good?"
"I mean, some of them are okay, I've been trying to drop those last 20 pounds so I know this one is pretty good, very low fat, but you don't want those, you want these," and she motions over to a freezer full of a popular diet company's dinners which happen to be 3 times more expensive than the ones I was looking at. I look over, smile and nod politely and try to steer my way back to the sale dinners. "These," she points to more low calorie meals, "you should NEVER get these."
"Oh," I say.
"Oh, yes, I heard, " she says, leaning in, "That they SNEAK calories into their food."
"Oh, I'm not worried about calories..."
"What!?" she sounds nervous.
"I, uh, I don't diet. I was just looking for something that was cheap and fairly tasty."
"Oh," she says. "Oh..." and she grabs her cart and scampers away, looking back at me like I just admitted I like licking kitten feet.

Which, with their forays into litter boxes, I totally am not into.

As much as it may be your urge, I am not interested (still) in debating the topic of dieting. At all. Still a humor blarg.  And "OMG SO FAT" is not an insult in my eyes so no need to try to reassure me.  I am quite content in my body, no matter what the size. That is all.

I am Iron Man... er, woman...

This is a dramatic recreation of an actual conversation had with my friend, because my friends are pretty funny.

For the record, I also eat cheese and candy.

August Sticker Sale- Cake Squirrel is not a lie.

This month's limited edition sticker is dedicated to my husband, who turns 44 on August 22nd.  Triangular nosed squeakers (aka squirrels) are one of his favorites, so I made a ginger squirrel sticker with cake in his honor.   There are 44 stickers available and they will go off sale, per usual, the last day of the month.

This sticker is no longer available for sale... sorry!

For those viewing via RSS, there is a button to buy on the actual blarg page!



As always, this is a homemade, hand cut, matte finish sticker.  It measures 4" by about 3".  There is no additional shipping.  All sent in a standard envelope with a cute drawing on it by me. And as always, if you wanna give me extra money, the option is available (and super mega appreciated).




Check out the new sticker page for other fancy stickers you can buy!

Da dun, da dun...

Shark week has been near and dear to my heart since the first time I watched it, the summer before my 11th grade year.  As I've watched it through the years, it has always reminded me of my best high school boyfriend, Alex (who reads this blarg, incidentally, hi, Alex!) because it was in his living room, on his couch, that the greatness that is a week full of terrifying shark facts was introduced to me.
And sharks are friggen awesome.  I mean I wouldn't want to hang out with one necessarily, or like... be eaten by one... though it would make a good story, being eaten by a shark in Montana, far away from places where sharks live... but still, not really up for that. So yes, I like to watch things about sharks, because they are fascinating and it gives me great information on how to avoid being eaten by them... which again, is much less of an issue now, living in Montana, than it was when I was growing up 8 blocks from the Atlantic Ocean.

My favorite shark fact: Sharks use electrical impulses to know where to bite, instead of their eyes, which are covered when they go all bitey to protect them from injury due to animals fighting back, because animals really don't like being bitten.

What's your favorite shark fact?