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...

The Supervisor

This happened the other day:

Other than the talking part, but I know what his meows mean....

Then last night, I'm watching TV and I look over into my bathroom, and I see this.  I have no idea what it means, but I am pretty sure it is an intimidation tactic.

Cheeseblarg's Anti-Upskirt Undies!

I came up with the perfect solution to Massachusetts' "Upskirt" problem.

Cheeseblarg's Anti-upskirt Undies feature a copyrighted image on the crotch of your panties and comes in
many different designs. Anytime these images are uploaded to the internet, Cheeseblarg will sue the upskirt uploader on your behalf to keep your undies off the internet!

* Two Can Play At This Game can be fitted in a tiny spy cam to see who is spying on your stuff.

If your government won't protect your undies from perverts, Cheeseblarg will protect them from copyright violations!

Cheeseblarg's Slutty Halloween Extravaganza

We all know that "sexy" Halloween costumes have totally gotten out of hand. There are tons of humor sites out there enumerating all of the ridiculous designs.  This humor site is not content to just sit back and observe the insanity. Instead, I am jumping in myself, with both feet.  I offer you, Cheeseblarg's Slutty Halloween Extravaganza.

Portal

Do you ever have those dreams where you're in school and you're supposed to be going to a certain class but you realize you haven't gone to that class in like... 8 weeks, and so now it feels like it would just be embarrassing to show up and be all, "Hey, algebra class, I'm back...oh... we have a test? Shit. Also, why am I only wearing a towel?"

Yeah, well that is why I haven't posted anything for like a month.  I took the 22nd off because it was husband's birthday, and then it spiraled into, "Well, shit, I can't go back... I don't have an excuse for not posting now." Only, I do have an excuse...

That is not entirely true, I guess. I have a whole list of things I could write about that I haven't... like the fact that there is a portal to another dimension that has followed me around since I was a child.

In 1984, my parents bought me and my sister a Barbie Silver 'Vette. It was entirely bitchin'.

source

Unfortunately, when we went to put it together, there was a piece missing, the roll bar that held the back window on... not that that really bothered Barbie much. She was well aware that rolling her Corvette without the roll bar was going to do her no harm because her head is made of soft plastic, and it had seat belts. It was just kind of a bummer because the box was sealed, and a piece was missing. I still had loads of fun playing with it for the next 8 years.

Several months later, however (or maybe weeks, I don't know, time is exponentially more wibbly wobbly when you're an 8 year old), I was rummaging in a closet in my grandmother's den, and there was the friggen roll bar, just hanging out with some sensible shoes and a few scarfs.

In the past 29 years, I have had all sorts of things disappear and then reappear at a later time, but I was reminded of the 'Vette incident when we recently had our kitchen and pantry floors redone. My husband stashed as much as he could in cabinets and then moved everything else out of both of the rooms. When everything came back, the lids to all of our pots were gone. We looked through every cabinet, every box, in the basement, EVERYWHERE.

A month or so later, I was sitting next to the kitchen sink, waiting for water to boil, and I thought, 'Eh, I know we've looked under the sink a bajillion times, but why the hell not?' and I peeked in the cabinet and the motherfuckers were sitting right there out in the open.

Seriously, we had pulled everything out of there. They weren't there, and then, all of a sudden, they were.

I have thus surmised that it has to be an inter-dimensional portal that is responsible for the phasing of my belongings in and out of my environment. It is really the only thing that makes sense.

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.

The Devolution of English

I was searching for the origin of the phrase "Hit the nail on the head" the other day, because I like words and knowing the origin of things makes me feel superior, and also gives me things to talk about when I am forced to interact with other humans on rare occasions. In this particular etymology, there was a sample of the first recorded use of the phrase and I came to the realization that our language seems to be coming full circle:

 -Old English-

  (source)                     

-New English-

(source)   

my friends are funny, and helpful.

Not all that different...

Sucky, Suckier, Suckiest.

Last week was one of the suckiest of suck weeks in my life. I just had to add suckiest to my dictionary, because really, it needs to recognize degrees of suck. So yeah, it started off innocuously enough with awesome stuff on TV. I don't watch all that much TV any more, but Sunday evenings, I am there from 6-midnight, pretty much. It brings me joy.  The rest of the week, not so much. 

So yeah, I am back to being destitute, and my mom has thyroid cancer. She goes in a week to have it removed and hopefully that will be the end of it. They assured us that although it is a very large tumor, it is unlikely that it has metastasized, so she should be just fine... hopefully.

The husband losing the job is another matter all together. It took him a year to get a job last time, and places around here aren't really hiring, so I am trying to convince him to go pick up applications for jobs where he obviously isn't going to get hired wearing a magician's cape, since I figure he might as well be amused if he is going to be rejected. Also because flourishing a cape while introducing yourself and asking for an application sounds incredibly fun and the man seriously needs some fun.

So if anyone has an adult sized magician's cape they could loan us, just let me know!

When Fruit Cups Attack

So I got these delicious sounding Del Monte cinnamon peach fruit cups on clearance. I was going to eat one while laying in bed watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer (up to season 5, whew hew), and I know they have a tendency to burble over some when you open them because of the vacuum seal, so I set myself up with a towel over my chest/neck, and slowly peeled the plastic lid off the cup.

 Apparently, this cup was SUPER vacuum-sealed because I was treated to a powerful nasal douche of cinnamon peach juice to my sinuses. I was amused, but also quite uncomfortable nasally. It was delicious (since I ate the cup after cleaning up the incident, the post nasal drip was a little off putting though), however I wish they opened without exploding and/or squirting long distances. Especially since they are for kids, or for adults who eat fruit cups in bed while watching supernatural shows made for kids.

 Also, I've passed this on to Del Monte and asked them if I could send them my doctor's bills  if I get a sinus infection from the peach cinnamon sugar water still lingering inside my face, but they are staunchly ignoring me, just like all the boys I ever loved...


Most hilarious comment when I posted about it on Facebook:

Just proves that no matter how well you prepare for a known eventuality, the universe is just going to shoot cinnamon peach juice up your nose anyway. - Lora-Lee

Valentine's Cards: Set One: Smutty Foods

Valentine's day is coming up, and what better way to be incredibly forward than with inappropriate but adorable cards, made by me.

There will be more themed sets forthcoming, so check back.  Also, all cards are available in my Zazzle shop*, in case you want to express your desires offline.

*If you are trying to find the cards in the Zazzle shop, but they don't seem to be there, please click the "content filter" link in the left navigation strip (it is towards the bottom), and allow PG-13 items to be shown, and they will magically appear. 


Without further ado... SMUTTY FOODS WISHING YOU HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!

Feel free to share this, as you see fit!

Hanukkah 2012: 7th Night - Llamakkah

My nephew came over for Hanukkah the other night and exclaimed "YEA, THERE ARE ONLY THREE NIGHTS LEFT!"  Clearly, he gets this holiday.


Today has been a long day. I am unprepared. Your present is a stern look from a llama.  Consider it a coupon for a free post sometime when the world sucks less.

It's Thanksgiving!

So I have heard many people complaining that Christmas music starts playing everywhere immediately after Halloween and that this is, apparently, a problem.

I shit you not, I almost cried in a grocery story today after hearing a little kid caroling everyone as her mother pushed her along.  Actually, maybe it was her aunt, because mom's get embarrassed easier than aunts and try to shut things like that down.

Anyway, I digress, I know a lot of people who are Grinchier than I am, and I'm a Jew, so maybe the novelty just hasn't worn off for me yet, but yeah, apparently Christmas songs in November is incredibly stressing to some of you guys.

I figured out why this is. Not why it bothers people, but why it starts right after Halloween. There is NO popular Thanksgiving music. I was telling Dr. Pants this the other day, suggesting that they crank out some awesome turkey tunes, but someone else beat them to it.

Remember everyone's favorite FUN FUN FUN FUN song.
The maker of "Friday" (the song, not the movie), has a new song for Thanksgiving... because no one else did it first. And to that, I say SHAME ON YOU, musicians, shame on all of you...

And also, I want someone to bring ribs to my house for Thanksgiving now.

there's a video here, RSS feeders

It is somehow LEAGUES worse than "Friday" and it prompted me to write my own Thanksgiving song, which I think is only 45% as annoying and way more endearing. It is also titled "It's Thanksgiving!"

there is also a video here... come to the site to watch it!

The Popcorn Paradox

It is bizarre to me, that the same substance can produce one of the best AND one of the worst smells in the entire universe.

How to Annoy the World in 5 Simple Steps

Last night, while watching the Olympics Closing Ceremony, I came up with the best idea ever, which I have drawn up to share with you all.
This is all the more reason that I need to become rich and famous... or just rich, really.

Rush's Bain Conspiracy Goes Deeper!

It was reported that Rush Limbaugh made the claim that the character Bane (who was featured in the 1993 DC Batman Comics) was created to be the villain in "The Dark Knight Rises" to conjure thoughts of Bain Capital, which was designed to undermine Mitt Romney's presidential bid.

This unearthed woodcut comic from the 1500s shows that it goes way deeper than that.

Zombies in Miami? It's more likely than you think!

I'm sad to inform you all that the zombie apocalypse started today in Miami, Florida, my hometown. While totally naked, Zombie Joe, the apocalypse's answer to Typhoid Mary,  attacked and ate the face of another man, who is in critical condition at a Miami hospital. Police had to shoot the nude Zombie Joe half a dozen times to finally kill him as he continued to eat the victim.

I have to say, I feel fairly safe here in Montana, because if the trend is going to be naked zombies, they are going to freeze in the snow that we had last night or at least be slowed enough that head shots will be simpler.

Nevertheless, the time is now, dear readers, to ready your plans. It is clear that Joe's victim will have been infected and is going to start with the chompy-chompy sometime soon.

Will you stock up supplies?

Will you fortify your homes?

Or will you join me under the bathroom sink where we will be very very still and very very quiet?

Also, I am very sorry to the victim and the families of the people in this news article, I am very insensitive, but seriously, you have to be a little aware that if your injured loved one tries to bite you, he's totally a zombie and you should kill him, immediately.

Sponsor my Pooping!

I have a colonoscopy scheduled for next Thursday. My doctor keeps on harping at me, "blah blah, have a colonoscopy, colon cancer risk, blah blah blah." And I have no problem with HAVING a colonoscopy; they put you to sleep for it and give you drugs that make you mostly forget the procedure (though I have a knack of waking up during it each time until they realize I am awake and pump more drugs into me)... the problem is the prep.  If they could somehow give me amnesia through the whole prep leading up to the procedure, I would have those things any damned time they asked me to.

If you are not familiar with colonoscopies, after they install an IV drip to flood you with drugs of joy, a doctor takes a flexible tube with a camera type device on it and sticks it up your poop chute, looking for any signs of scarring, or cancer, or bleeding, or polyps, or wormholes that make you poop out of your own mouth. But to do that, they have to remove all the everything that usually hangs out in one's intestines so they can get a clear view of the intestine walls, and to do THAT, they make you drink a bunch of gnarly tasting junk that turns your butt into Old Faithful.. for 20 hours.

During my last colonoscopy, 4 years ago, they apparently replaced the regular nursing staff with some Medieval Inquisitionist who clearly thought I was harboring some serious secrets, because she was more than happy to torture me by refusing to let me get up to go to the bathroom. "Just go on the table." I don't WANT to go on the table!! They break prisoners by making them violate potty training! JUST LET ME GO! But nope, she apparently wanted to scar me for life, which she has done, which is part of why, though I am supposed to have a colonoscopy every year, I have avoided doing so.

When I took my mom in for a colonoscopy last year and they told her to just let them know when she needed to go again so they could help her up, I yelped out "WHAT THE HELL!?" and told my tale of Nurse Torment.  "Here?!" the nurse asked incredulously. "That is NOT our policy! I don't know why that happened to you." Uh, because I have to write a blarg somehow and if things were always boring and sane around me, I'd have to ACTUALLY be entertaining, instead of just telling what happens to me or laying in fetal position rocking back and forth.

But as usual, there is more to it than just doing the prep and having this test done. The prep meds cost about 4 times my budget for buying things in a week. The colonoscopy, itself, is totally covered by the hospital now, but the Old Faithful intestinal cleanser, nope... they won't pay for it, so I have to find a way to make it so.

I have toyed with the idea of having sponsored pooping. For a minimum of ten dollars, I could announce on Twitter and/or Facebook

with the inclusion of a link and logo or quick drawing from me. For more than 10 dollars, they could actually make up their own tagline, instead of leaving it to me.  Then I would send the sponsors a card and an I HELP FIGHT COLON CANCER sticker with a brown ribbon, of course*, to thank them for their support, or something along those lines. There is 20 hours of prep, but I wouldn't need that many sponsors to cover the cost, and any extra could go to buy me a solid lunch after the procedure. Genius, no?

I also thought we could have a betting pool to guess how many polyps I have this time.


Regardless, I shall be live tweeting my colonoscopy prep on the 28th of March. It should be a rocking good time. And I promise not to post any pictures of toilets or things that have come out of my butt. I might describe some of it though... but with a sense of humor, always a sense of humor.


*no, really, that is the ribbon color for colon cancer, because someone has quite a sense of humor, and laughter is still the best medicine.

New York Secrets Revealed: The Small Print

During my trip to New York, one of my ticky list items was to find a good Indian restaurant and gorge myself on delicious spicy delicacies. Using the power of google and yelp from my sketchy hotel room, I found an Indian place less than a block away from my art show that had a menu with everything I could want on it, well within my limited budget.

When we got there after visiting my show, they had a lunch buffet, but it was like 18 bucks a person, and $54 for the three of us, plus tip, plus tax, plus a stomach that won't fit $18 worth of food was so not going to happen, so we asked to be seated and got menus. After looking at all the tasty 5 dollar appetizers we would share, my mom noticed that at the bottom of the page, in small letters, it stipulated that each person must order $25 worth of food to eat in the dining room, which is where we were seated. That was followed by a horrifying conversation with our clearly displeased waiter where I offered to take our food to go, if needed. "No, fine, just order." So we ordered our food and it was SO delicious, like 'I wanted to lick the plate and then mate with it' delicious. Crispy fried onion fritters, spicy flaky pockets of mashed potato, green peas, and chilies, and chicken pakora, so salty and crunchy, all with tamarind dipping sauce that was sweet and cool and tangy. It was amazing.
And I could feel the hostility each time my water was refilled. Damn me for drinking so much water all the time! I'm the complete opposite of a camel.
And then, sheepishly, I asked our waiter about dessert. I wanted Gulab Jamun, badly.  If you've not had Gulab Jamun and you like syrupy sweet desserts, get your ass to an Indian restaurant, immediately. I don't care if it is not open right now, go wait. These things are little dense balls, not unlike cake donuts with the texture of a  hushpuppy, soaked in a sugar syrup that is heavily laced with cardamom and rosewater, until they cannot hold another drop of syrup, and dear people, they are so very good.

What they are usually not is BOILING MOTHERFUCKING HOT, which is what they were when they were served to me in this lovely restaurant in NY. They were like, passive aggressively hot.  Like every bit of anger that that waiter had at me for wasting his time with a 20 dollar order for three in the heart of Manhattan, times 20, was put on the microwave timer.  To the point that I could feel the searing heat coming off of it before it actually got to my face, which thankfully gave me a warning, or I would have lost all the skin lining the inside of my mouth.  My poor impulse control still contributed to minor burns, but thankfully, I avoided a hospital visit. And still they were delicious. So good. Almost worth the burns, totally worth the story.

Next time I have cause to visit NYC, I will, fer real, be budgeting a bunch of money to get an assortment of their amazing dishes, but I think I will get it to go next time, just in case.

Burger Times

I am entirely unable to fathom why, when you go to a fast food restaurant and order your food without bread, they then become completely unable to put condiments on meat and cheese. I get the concept that they are most likely accustom to putting the ketchup and mayonnaise on the bread, but it really isn't that hard.
In fact, every time they refrain from putting condiments on my sad and lonely bunless burgers, I am somehow able to put condiments on it, myself, so clearly it is not rocket science.

Today, at our local Burger Royalty restaurant, I took note of the very handsome older gentleman who works there. When I say handsome, I mean, nearly as handsome as 60 year old Clint Eastwood. I have to assume he either was a ranch hand who murdered his employer and has recently gotten out of prison on parole, or that he raped a 14 year old in the 1960s, because I cannot come up with another reason that some one of that age, who is so attractive, would need to (or choose to) work at a burger joint. He was, incidentally, standing right behind me while I told my mother this theory. If I go missing, it was probably him.

Also, RE: Bunless burgers... FORKS AND KNIVES, assholes. Seriously.