Forget Mensez, Here's Period Pocket!

If you have not seen this innovative new product, Mensez**, let me introduce you to it.

Dr Daniel Dopps, Kansas Chiropractor, is marketing a new way to control the ickiness of menstruation... literally gluing the labia shut so your period doesn't leak out. Genius, right!?

According to his Facebook page (which sadly has been taken down already, but this link works), women are idiots for not thinking of this before.

It's such an easy concept, you just apply this "Lip-stick" (get it, it sticks your "lips" together) comprised of amino acids and stuff and then it holds in all your oozing blood flow until you have to pee. Then, some magical formulation of glue that doesn't react to the moisture in blood lets go with the power of pee, and all the blood rushes out where he claims you never even have to look at it or touch it, which seems a pretty amazing claim, since he also says you need to clean up "down there" and apply more of this glue and then hold your labia together, presumably, until it dries enough to stick your junk together.

While this seems like a great idea, I think my idea, Period Pocket, will get the job done in a much easier and quicker way! With just a few pieces and a little glue, you can use your labia to capture all your blood without having to reapply any pesky glue. Allow me to illustrate!

The metal structure to the pocket is magnetic so you don't have to worry about movement making the pockets come unsnapped.

And, Period Pocket doesn't only have to be used during your period. You can also use it to store spare change or small snacks at other times of the month. Also helps with incontinence and overactive bladder*.


Of course, if you can't afford the low low price of $19.99 each month, you can always improvise with a plastic Zip-lock bag and some Krazy Glue. Just cut off the bottom of the bag, glue the opening to your vulva, and then yellow and blue makes green!




*may not actually help with incontinence or overactive bladder. It is really just a deconstructed coin purse.


** This is a real product, with a real patent. Or moreso, it is being marketed as a real product though it hasn't actually been formulated or tested yet because it is one of the most ridiculous ideas ever conceived. Honestly, gluing your labia together...

Cheeseblarg on Global Warming

I was rage forced to do this comic because of Facebook posts by an old schoolmate who repeatedly posts weather reports about polar vortexes and snow and then adds the oh-so-witty "Global warming strikes again!" or something similar that reads as, "Yada, yada, I don't understand science!"

It's okay if you don't understand science. It is not a crime... and neither is talking about science when you don't understand it, by poorly quoting other people who don't understand it either... unfortunately.

It would be super awesome if people didn't talk about science when they don't understand it, for the sanity of people who do and so as to not infect more people with idiot ideas, but alas, there are scientific studies that say that when people are really bad at things, they are unaware of the deficiency (which is why I always thought I did really awesome on all of my algebra tests in college when I failed most of them*), so my request is really likely to fall of deaf ears through the fault of our silly monkey brains.

*-I was a late algebra bloomer - after I started substitute teaching, I used the teacher's guide and worked backwards until I finally understood it all.

Share if you're against banality.

Okay, this has reached a fever pitch that I can no longer ignore.

I saw this posted on Facebook today:

At which point, I was forced to point out the fact that I don't know a single person that is FOR animal cruelty. I mean, I understand the sentiment, but EVERYONE, when they really think about it is against animal cruelty... or at least everyone on Facebook. I have never met a single person who has declared on their social media, "I love beating the shit out of lizards!"

Yes, there are people who commit animal cruelty, and they TOTALLY suck, but even if they go into it thinking "ANIMAL CRUELTY IS MY FAVORITE!" are they going to be swayed by a graphic on Facebook?!

"Dang, I was gonna flog this goat, but Facebook overwhelmingly doesn't like animal cruelty, so cuddle it is!"

As a protest to stupid, obvious AGAINST graphics, I have made a few of my own. Please, feel free to share them passive aggressively!

Also, my mom thinks I am going to get in trouble for my "fire/babies/stabbing" joke, so don't prove her right, damn it.

Dropsy

My hands are uncooperative today. 

Earlier today, I dropped my Kindle on my face while reading, giving myself a fat lip (though, as I said on twitter shortly after it happened, I was glad it was the kindle and not The Stand by Stephen King, which is what I was actually reading on the kindle, because that book would have given me a fat lip and knocked my tooth out... it's really big).

Before I started writing this, I grabbed my remote control to mute the show that was on TV to watch a video on Facebook and I ended up losing my grip on the remote and launching it at my laptop screen. I was concerned that it had broken the screen, but it seems to be okay. 

I think my point is, don't have me hold your baby today.

A Poignant Comic About Hot Cocoa

Crazy Mike and the Debbie Stick

Hey, mom and dad, you might want to skip this one…

Yesterday, I was in the gift shop in St. Regis, Montana, which is one of my regular stop-offs when going on road trips because it is roughly 2/3rds of the way from my house to my friend’s house, and because once I took a bus to Washington State and it stopped there, so since professional drivers deemed it a good place to stop, I do too. Also it has a Live Trout Museum, and if you won’t stop for a Live Trout Museum, what the hell will you stop for?

During this particular stop, I was searching this giant gift store for something small and amusing to give to a Cheeseblarg follower on Facebook, because I like rewarding people for paying attention to me and humoring me without my having to actually put a lot of effort into posting. I think of it as Operant Conditional Love.

What I wanted to buy was a flashing solar keychain that said “Debbie” but I realized that I hadn’t told you the story that makes referring to everyone as Debbie hilarious, so I bought something else that was equally as amusing, to me at least, and made a note to tell you guys the story, which is what I am about to do.

When I was in college, I had low self-esteem, which as we all know, leads to some really bad choices and amusing tales, thankfully. This story started at a Drag Show at the gay club in my college town. I sat outside on the porch, smoking (which I no longer do), and was approached by a very handsome guy who I had noticed around town before, due to his handsomeness, and somehow, the details of which are fuzzy, it lead to us making out by the stairs. (Yeah, parents, I told you to stop reading this).  As I was giving him a ride home, it occurred to me that I didn’t really know him and he was leading me down unlit and unpaved roads and that he might be leading me to a dark, out of the way clearing where he was going to murder me, but, as you might have guessed, since I am writing this now, and called it an amusing story, he didn’t kill or rape me, for which I am quite thankful.

I didn’t bother getting his number or anything, I just dropped him off and went back to my dorm because I realized that my stupidity was overwhelming, and that while it was quite an experience, it was really a dumb DUMB choice to let someone into my car who I didn't really know, but I could now cross “make out with random attractive stranger” off my list of things to experience in life, and yay, I survived it.

Except Crazy Mike apparently didn't feel the same way about the experience that I did.

I think it was when he started giving me random presents that he got the nickname, Crazy Mike. The first was a Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch tape. No case, just the tape.  And I should probably mention that this was about 1996 so Marky Mark had not been heard from for about 5 years.

 The next time he gave me a ring. I think it was a man’s ring. He might have found it discarded in the street.

“Oh, that’s nice…” I said sitting on the porch of the gay bar with my friends.
“Yeah, we’re gonna get married.” he told me.
“Oh?”
“You’re my girlfriend now.”
“Oh…” For fuck’s sake.  And THIS is why you are not supposed to make out with random strangers, THIS right here.
Entirely creeped out by this, I tried avoiding  the gay club. Crazy Mike, however, started showing up all over town, usually sitting on the hood of my car when I would come out of Denny‘s or Simon‘s. I drove a big ugly station wagon. It was pretty easy to find apparently.

So after a few weeks of being unable to avoid him, I finally went back to the club, and sitting on the porch was Crazy Mike’s equally crazy brother, Mark.

“Hey, Debbie! Debbie!” I looked around, and then realize he was talking to me.
“That’s not my name.”
“My brother likes you, Debbie.  I think you look like a hippopotamus.”
“Well, thank you, Mark. My name still isn‘t Debbie though.”
“He’s got a present for you…”

Oh yay, another present. How wonderful.

He wasn’t there though, so I went inside and watched the Drag Show, and after a while, I grabbed my friend and went to leave.

“I have something for you.” he said when I came out of the club.
Oh, was pretty much my standard response at the time, because OMG, LEAVE ME ALONE, somehow was not part of my vocabulary, most likely on account of the low self-esteem. I looked up at him, sitting on the top part of the porch, he was holding a knife and something that looked like a very long ax handle.
“I made you this, I’m carving your name into it.”
He handed me the stick, which I really can’t be sure wasn’t a very old ax handle. He had carved two lines all the way around it, kind of intertwining around the length of the stick, and at the top, he was starting to carve the name “Debbie.”
“Yeah, my name is NOT Debbie!”

After I received the Debbie stick, he seemed to lose interest in me, although a few weeks later, he found me outside Denny’s and told me that he had something to show me.  Apparently he had learned my name by then because he had it tattooed really crudely in a misshapen heart on his shoulder. I, on the other hand, really appreciated the gift of the stick, even though I had to change the name to my own, myself, because he had actually given me a weapon that I could use to bludgeon him if he had chosen to take his creepy stalking up to the next level. I actually still have it, because it was a nice stick. And also because it serves as a reminder not to make out with strangers who don’t know your name and who have brothers who tell you that you look like a hippopotamus.

I love you for your insides!

No one can agree on what REAL men are supposed to like. I have an opinion though, which I voiced on this facebook post. 

Beyond it being insulting, because who wants to be loved only if someone DISREGARDS what they look like- "Oh baby, I love you even though you're REALLY ugly and your body gives me dry heaves!" This whole, "What you have inside is what counts" thing is just creepy to me.

It's not what's on the inside that counts, your insides are squishy and mostly full of poop. It is your attitude, and your face, and your body, and your sense of humor, and all of that, is on the outside, because that is where you present it, and people should like your outside, even if it is lumpy or has wrinkles, or if your left eye likes to drift to the side when you aren't focusing, or if you make jokes that people don't always get.

Your body is where you live and keep all your thoughts, and people who like you should like it just how it is, damn it. 

Also, seriously, serial killers, I'm not joking.

HIGH FIVE, GUYS!

I got some awesome and funny high five pictures and as promised, we have the best of them (they were all great damn it, but I can't have fair contests if I am gonna choose everyone as the winners, though you are all totally winners in my mind for even bothering to send stuff in, and it being funny and/or cute). All the entries can be found (with links where available) over the facebook Cheeseblarg page.

I have come to realize I am wrong, though.  There are certain people I would high five. Or certain person. NPH. But beyond him, I don't know who else. Neal Patrick Harris is just utterly high fivable.

And before we get to the winner, I did one more animal high five of my own, for many reasons, which you are welcome to guess.

And now onto the winners!

From Stephanie at "Clay Baboons"- she actually sent several entries that were very hard to choose from and featured animal high fives on her blog and she makes me laugh. A lot.

Tonya at "Where Have All The Hobos Gone" won me over with her "Altos Cinco!"

High Fortying made me actually laugh aloud. Thanks Haley, from "Haley's Comic."

and as an honorable mention for being topical:

Mollie of "OK in UK"

Please do stop over at da Cheeseblarg on facebook and check out the other entries.  All of the participants deserve positive attention for their cute and funny pieces!

A.A.A.D.D.

Dearest parents (especially mother), you should either not read this or, if you insist upon doing so, you should take a lot of illicit date rape sorts of drugs before reading this so you don't recall it and never discuss it with me. Let's go with never reading it, okay? Awesome. 


I'm not kidding either. 
Okay, on to the post ...


I was just reminded, when the boy I had a crush on in middle school added me on Facebook, that I was a fucking psycho when I was a teenager.  I think I owe pretty much everyone with a penis (who was not an immediate member of my family) that I knew from the ages of 11- 19 a major apology.  See, when I say "the" boy I had a crush on, I mean ONE of the 7 billion boys I had a crush on, but  definitely the one I spent the most time terrorizing, from my recollection. No, wait, the one I spent the most time terrorizing in eighth grade, and also part of 7th. I terrorized the hell out of a bunch of guys. I had a problem... we shall refer to it as attention and affection deficit disorder (AAADD).
I was  really bad, as a teenager, at ascertaining when someone was attracted to me. That is, people for the most part, weren't attracted to me, but if they were willing to make eye contact with me, or respond to me when I spoke and I found them even the remotest bit attractive, I was pretty sure they were in love with me. Or maybe it was that I was pretty sure I was in love with them, and any modicum of attention convinced me that the feeling was mutual or could, through repeated pestering and writing of REALLY bad poetry, be cultivated.

If you could imagine Chris Farley.. hell, you don't have to imagine. Here is a clip.

Yes, that was me, only quite a bit cuter. But the thing is, there was no chance of me having any sort of normal relationship with anyone at that time because responding to me was enough to set me off in a pattern of psychotic smothering attention. If I could just get my foot in the proverbial door, they were sure to adore the ever loving shit out of me... but the reality of it was, they were more than likely terrified of me, because my attention was fairly terrifying. And that was when I wasn't thinking of anything more than just holding hands and pop kisses.  I was probably about 42 times more terrifying when I was trying to seduce every male who interacted with me, not excluding my 9th grade Math substitute, some weird French guy who owned a leather furniture design company who may have been in his late 40s, my best friend, who was a male (the poor guy), C.B. Barnes, and our 25 year old neighbor.

Of course, people who WERE actually attracted to me, I was oblivious of.  If they approached me first, I was suspicious and bitchy.  Yup, bitchy is the word for what I was, in that it is a word that doesn't start with a C that would probably be a better word for how I acted, but people seem to have an aversion to that word for some reason that I am unable to fathom. Anyway, I mean that I was a jerk version of crazy when I wasn't being otherwise crazy and writing, have I mentioned, REALLY horrible poetry... like the kind where each line starts with a letter of the boy's name, and which I carefully calligraphized on floofy purple stationary that I might have rubbed on a perfume sample page of a beauty magazine so he knew it was from a girl and that I then stuck in his locker. After I stalked him and saw that he had seen the poem and hadn't come running to confess his love for me, though he was one of the most sought after boys in school and I had no concept of "out of your league,"  I then carefully extracted said horrible purple calligraphied poem out of his locker while pretending to go to the bathroom, so that it couldn't be used to humiliate me any worse than I had already done myself. Wait that wasn't clear. I meant, I asked my teacher to go to the bathroom so I could stop by his locker and go mission impossible on it, not that I was pretending to pee while I was shoving my fingers through the air holes of the locker to get the embarrassing fucking thing out.

Anyway, yeah, sorry boys, and maybe some girls too, for making you uncomfortable and for being unable to handle having female hormones. I'm much more balanced now, though I am still prone to bouts of adult AAADD... I am just aware of things like restraining orders and mace now, so I have toned it down and there is nothing to be afraid of. And also sorry for the poem. You didn't deserve that. Nobody deserves that... nobody.

Shove me in the shallow water...

I've felt left out on Facebook lately, as I am sure many others have.  Feel free to share this important message!

Actual Conversations- Fire and Goats

These are hilarious and inappropriate, in that order. Because me and my friends are punny. You have been warned.

Change is hard.

I don't buy into the whole, "If it's free, you can't complain" dogma.  My lungs are free, came with the package, but I am totally complaining, as loudly as I possibly can, if they stop working in a useful and helpful way. Something being free doesn't and shouldn't preclude it from receiving feedback, as far as I am concerned.

I do, however, think that making the best of everything is the easiest policy, for one's own sanity, and I rarely join in the "OMG! MAKE IT GO BACK!" crowd. I would rather just make fun of the situation and get on with it... so I have annotated my personal Facebook page below to give everyone a positive spin on all the changes that have happened to the Facebook Layout.

While it seems horrifically changed, it really isn't.  

• There is the addition of the "Awesome Stalk-O-Matic ™" scrolling bar on the right - which is perfect for people who like to obsessively keep up with their favorite people and see EVERY SINGLE INTERACTION THEY HAVE... which is right up my alley.  

          These can likely be cut down by altering your subscriptions to people you don't give a damn about.

• Then there is the "Ninja Algorithm Cool Stuff ™" that is marked by little blue triangles which seems to have no rhyme or reason, but a game can be made of trying to figure out the pattern.

• And all the other stuff that you saw before the change lives underneath the new stuff. Mostly. Except possibly your own posts. Unless you are popular. 

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.

Bring out your dead!

I tried to fix my camera and ended up killing it.
I am usually good at everything and can fix anything given basic instructions, but, I might as well have had hammers for hands when attempting this repair.

I have a newfound respect for camera repair people because, while I did manage to avoid breaking down into to tears while trying, for 30 minutes, to get the 3rd of 5 orange cables back into its tiny silver toothed home after possibly successfully replacing the LCD screen (that I broke by dropping it), I did not avoid yelling "GET IN YOUR HOME!!!!!!!!!!!! AUGH!!!" or wishing everything and everyone dead in exchange for it JUST GETTING IN THERE, about the time when the black bar that snuggly holds the evil orange cable in place snapped off in my hand (or well, at the end of my finger because it was not even as wide as my finger and about the width of three hairs- and it was the biggest of the 5) and then snapped in half after that, as I delicately tried to put in back in to the almost microscopic hole it popped out of on my 40th attempt to get the damned cable back in.

So my adorable pink camera who served me well for almost 5 years is caput.  My friend was kind enough to procure me a new one so I could continue the photographic work I was doing with the now-dead one (see my cooking site), but I would like to be able to pay him back for it, so if anyone needs some llamas drawn for them (and is willing to exchange monetary credits for said drawing), let me know.


AND, a challenge.  Peep horror movie scenes… see Cheeseblarg’s Facebook Page for details!

To PM or NOT to PM, that is the question!

To me, private messages on Facebook are for things that you don't want to discuss aloud.  It is like a whispered conversation.  As such, it is immeasurably creepy when you ask an innocuous question of someone, or send them a birthday wish, and they see fit to answer you with a private message.
Here are some scenarios in which it is both appropriate and inappropriate to private message someone.

Times when it is appropriate to private message someone:

OR anything that is actually private or doesn't need to be shared with everyone you know...

Times when a private message is inappropriate:

OR

OR

Yeah, this one... don't do that... if it is SO creepy you know it is inappropriate for the general public, just keep it inside, please.

Comment Marauder

It has been pointed out to me that I am strange in my habit of reading comments on other people's postings.  I do this for pieces of art, blog posts, videos, facebook pages... pretty much anywhere someone posts something to solicit comments, I am going to read the comments.  To me, the reason for sharing things on the internet is to interact with other people and as such, the interaction is part of the experience.

The response that I get when I tell people this is usually, "Well, I read my comments!"

Yes, I read your comments too. I want to hear what people say about things that I take the time to read, for the most part. Comments are really interesting, often funny.  There are whole websites dedicated to seeing people's replies (for Facebook, at least).  So yes, usually, I click and read everything that everyone says to my friends.  I even go back when I have nothing better to do and check if there are more comments.

Okay, fine, maybe I am just a creepy stalker...

And hey guys, my friend, Pat, is looking for support for a short movie he is trying to make.  If you would be interested in helping out a beginning director with his horror movie, please check out this link.

The Case of the Cotton Candy Tree- SOLVED

So you know how I posted this tree the other day?

It was a tree Farmville didn't have*, which is why I drew it... 'cause a cotton candy tree is pretty boss, right?
And apparently someone at Farmville thought so too, because 5 days after I posted this image... which received an enormous amount of hits this weekend, thanks to a link from Cakewrecks, they created THIS:

Hrm, what an awesome idea... a cotton candy tree!

With a grey trunk, with white stripes on it...

That they are selling... 

That seems to be made on the fly because it is programmed with the information for a gum tree, not a cotton candy tree, but these things happen, right?

I'm not saying that Farmville has people stalking me to steal my ideas, because that would just be nutty, but I don't think it is outside the realm of possibility that my tree was seen and it inspired someone to create this as a result.

Until it is proven otherwise, I think I should put "concept artist for Farmville/Zynga" on my resume'.

*Proven otherwise, apparently they had it as a special item for a week during November, when I wasn't playing...I'm a dork... total coincidence, this is what happens when you're neurotic kids. Sorry FarmVille... nothing to see here.

Farmville Finishing School

Many people keep in touch with their friends and family via Facebook, and it is a great way to keep up. I adore Facebook; all my favorite people are there. But, every once in a while there arises a problem. Many of the friends and family members who we are glad to keep in touch with on Facebook also love playing social media games (read: Farmville) and, unfortunately, a few of them get a little over-excited and behave badly when it comes to common gaming courtesy. These are not things they would do face-to-face, of course, some of them even taught you the manners they are ignoring, but on the tubes, they sometimes need a little nudge in the courteous direction.

*shoves ever so gently*

Remember, this is for people who LIKE playing games. If you don’t ‘cause you’re really cool and have an actual social life/job, don’t take it out on the rest of us game dorks. Surely you figured out long ago how to block apps, but the following should still amuse.





Like it or leave it:
"Like" is a very handy feature for game playing on Facebook. It allows you to give a nod to the poster when you've taken something they've posted. It is like tipping your hat and saying thanks. It's like thank you notes your mom made you write for terrible things you got as presents growing up because it let the person who gifted it know you received it and that you were taught manners. If you don't acknowledge the gift-givers, they get annoyed...and then you don't receive any more black sweatshirts with glitter, and musical notes, and rhinestones, because you were in the orchestra and clearly, glitter and puff paint is your style. You write that thank you note even though wearing that sweatshirt, in south Florida where it doesn't even get cold, got you made fun of your entire 7th grade year and you have nightmares about it still...
But these are actually things you want, you are actively clicking them.
So make a point to “like” things when you take them, otherwise you are just a common snatcher... a common snatcher with bad manners.

Breakin’ 2- Electric Boogaloo:
When someone is sick/on vacation/mourning the death of a loved one and makes a point of announcing it on their status, unless they are sending you requests, LEAVE THEM ALONE. Get your watering cans/valentines/wooden boards somewhere else. Coming back to 332 requests after being in the hospital for a week in traction as a result of a terrible skiing accident just adds insult to injury. You might as well just post on their wall, “I didn’t care enough to notice that you were away… it probably wasn‘t very important anyway. Can I have a pixilated sheep?”

I'll steal your honey like I stole your bike :
Don't take everything someone posts. “But there are so many gold nuggets, I just can't help myself!” Help yourself, stop at 6. Sniping is bad. People don’t like snipers. That’s why they stick them in those towers alone. It’s not for the head shots, it is because they’re uncool.

I heard she’s been givin’ it up to all them graffiti guys:
Avoid allowing a game to post things on your friends' walls unless there is a damned good reason for it (or unless they have expressed that it is okay). When you post something one someone’s wall, they get notification, often an email. Then they get all excited that they have some love from a friend on their wall when they really needed it because they were having a really hard afternoon and all they needed was a kind gesture, and there it is… only it’s not love, it is a stupid post telling them that you found some fuel on their make-believe farm and that you have nothing nice to say to them at all. It’s a let-down.
I propose that all wall posts from games should be accompanied by a note reminding the recipient of what you like about them. That way, if you are crapping up their personal wall with your pig slop (does anyone ever want pig slop?!) at least when they see it is just a stupid game request, they can have an uplifting experience, instead of just annoyance.

Sham-a-lama-ding-dong:
You’re smart enough to know when it is a scam. Really? 100 unicorns for your farm by clicking HERE! No... and you'll probably need to change your password, too.

Something’s got to give:
Again, unless you have discussed it with someone beforehand, multiple gifts (6 or more a day) are obnoxious, really, even if you need them and are sending them so they can send it back. If you figure each person is sending 3 or more gift, times the amount of people you had to add to get a 26x26 farm, that is way too many freaking requests a day. And that is just one game. Most people play several.

The corollary of which is... If someone posts that they finished a collection, or mission, or that they are avoiding it all together, don't send them those objects. Request them, sure, but don't send them.

Yes, I am saying that you should actually make an effort to know what is going on with your friend's games (yes, your friends... people who you would like not to hate you). Take a minute to research. If worse comes to worse, just add random people whose friendship doesn't matter to you and annoy the crap out of them. Who cares if internet strangers think you’re a jerk!

Thanks to Rhea, Seja, and Gemma, for helping me with various aspects of this post!