Stalker
Obsessed much? Damn kid, I think we’re clear on my name!
I fear this will lead to that 4 year old standing in the aisle at the grocery store, incessantly saying “mom, mom, mom, mom” without taking a breath and without GIVING ME TIME TO RESPOND!
httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_4kIqE6n-h4
Child Exploitation. Question Mark.
I’ve decided to market my blog in a never before used method; child exploitation. Relax, she’s not running drugs for me, she doesn’t even know about the special room in the basement where we grow “plants”. I can just see all of you… opening another tab on your Internet explorer window, looking up the number for child protective services. Make sure when you call you inform them that I also let her play with butcher knives and practice her marksmanship with the cat.
Untwist your panties…she is just being used as a human billboard. It’s the perfect place to market. Don’t you see?!? 
Everywhere we go she is the center of the universe. Who can resist looking at a little baby and smiling? Why not smack my blog URL up on her shirt. Onlookers can smile and get their “Awww…isn’t she cute” in and I can get some more traffic to my site. Listen Lady, it’s a WIN WIN!
Still doubt my tactics? When she’s sitting through Harvard lectures she is going to be grateful that I exploited her cuteness to get a little extra dough.
Plus we can touch a whole new demographic. Infants. It’s an untapped blog market. UNTAPPED I tell you! Granted they can’t read yet, but imagine the hand eye coordination that I am teaching by having them open the laptop and navigate to my lonely little blog. I know, it’s like I’m mother Teresa.
‘roid rage
Yesterday I went to heat up my lunch of pizza rolls and I noted that one of the rolls could be on the mitchell report of ‘roid users. I almost asked this pizza roll to go take a drug test. Listen Lady, lay off the juice cause this game of “which one of these things is not like the other” is way to easy otherwise.
Stumped?
Many a moon ago, when we originally purchased our house, we had every intent of removing overgrown and unmaintained shrubage from the landscaping all in one summer. And I’m not talking small little bushes that a retarded monkey could care for. Most of these bushes were taller than I am and their roots were as thick as my forearm. Imagine if you will, a small little seedling, planted decades ago that exploded ALL OVER THE PLANET and you will have the size of these damn bushes. I mean, the guiness world record book was contacting us. 
Oh to be young and naive and believe that we could remove all the bushes and the 50+ year old stumps in just a couple of months time. The first summer we managed to mangle about 5 bushes out of the ground and break only 1 shovel before winter hit. I don’t know about you, but I wasn’t about to don my parka and start hacking away at a frozen stump. We put our plans on hold and agreed to resume extraction the next summer.
Little did we know, the extraction that occurred was of a much different nature than we intended. It involved a cold pair of stirrups, a couple dozen doctors, and one stubborn little 8 pound old newborn. Summer number two became a bust as I had a live-in and I would throw a temper tantrum if the temperature went above 71 and I had to set even my pinky toe in the sun. My air conditioner became my best friend during that time. We would have long talks and go to the movies…. ok not really, but I HATED even one drop of sweat on my pregnant being.
I vowed that this would be the summer of stumps and we’d finally finish removing every last one; even if it meant that I had to set fire to them and dance around naked doing American Indian chants. Unfortunately, time got away from us a little and suddenly I changed the calendar and it was August. AUGUST. WTF MATE. We had not even looked at the stumps yet and it was nearly the end of summer. As a side note for those of you not from Western New York, summer lasts approximately 2 months for us and the rest of the year we have snow.
My husband diligently volunteered to stay home from work and spend his time hacking away at these suckers to get rid of the last 4 stumps (thanks honey for all that man work). One ax, one hatchet, and one sledgehammer later…we have 4 empty holes in our backyard. Look at that stump family, so cute and innocent looking. So unsuspecting of their fate. YOU’RE BURNING BITCHES!
Make a BIG statement…
I get enough junk mail to paper machete a few hundred body casts. Most of the crap I just end up throwing out because I don’t have enough time to pick my own wedgies let alone read 25 magazines. There are the occasional few that I do browse though and did I ever find a doosey in one.
A colossal wall clock. This isn’t just an ordinary wall clock. Nope my friend, it’s COLOSSAL. This puppy is 5 feet in diameter. FIVE FEET. That’s like hanging me sideways on your wall. Hell, tack me up there and I’ll even use my arms and legs to point to 10 and 2.
The description says that some assembly is required. My guess is that you’ll need to frame out an entire clock tower before you even open the packaging. The magazine also suggests you use bolts for secure hanging. I would just like to say, “No Shit, Sherlock”. I thought we could just smack some masking tape on the back and call it a day. Though you might want to consider additional home owners insurance as I’m sure you are going to rip down half your house if you don’t secure this clock with earthquake resistant fasteners.
Good news though. No matter how COLOSSAL this clock is, it only requires 2 AA batteries. THAT’S IT. Totally disappointing. I was under the impression that this clock would require the same amount of electricity as needed to run a small town in Rhode Island. Who knew that such a large heaping mass of metal would be so green.