BLACK FRIDAY!

Happy Thanksgiving! 😀

I know that many of you will be hitting the bricks tomorrow at crack ass o’dawn a.m., all in efforts of finding the perfectly priced gift for all the lovelies in your life. Please dress warm, stay hydrated and note: when you are out freezing your lady garden and man mounds off for $50 Kindles – I will likely be drooling on Smith’s pillow in our toasty bed – but I implore your efforts! I’m just not cut out for the thug life that is Black Friday. I tried once. It was Radio Shack in the early ’00s. I got up at 3 am for a $15 PDA organizer. I made it to the store, half awake and in my pajamas. Line was long, it was freezing and I didn’t even park. I turned my baby blue Geo Tracker around, hauled azz home and I’ve never looked back. Anyhow, back to you – the Black Friday Chuck Norrises of the world: I would like to take this opportunity to promote your giving gifts of the magically delicious unicorn variety. I have gathered a few of my favorite samples thereof below.

For the make up lover:

Unicorn Farts Lip Balm! (Click for site.)

Apparently unicorn farts are a mixture of cotton candy and spearmint. Too crass? Perhaps you should opt for the Unicorn Pee flavor then?

Nothing says Happy Holidays like Unicorn Pee! (Click for site)

” Unicorn Pee tastes like a party that bananas, coconuts, chocolate, almond and peppermint were invited to…”

For the gamer:

Play Robot Unicorn Attack by Adult Swim

If you are short on cash, you could give lovelies a free/ .99 cent unicorn gift. Download the Robot Unicorn Attack game (by Adult Swim) on your loved one’s iPads and iPhones – or just be lazy and send them the free link. Hey, maybe you just don’t love them enough to go the extra .99 cent mile, I can’t judge you. It’s a beautiful game, with a sound track that will make you feel like you are galloping through The NeverEnding Story. Unfortunately, just when you embrace the beauty of it all, you will die – and you will make unicorns cry.

For the Brony:

Rainbow Dash, My Little Pony Honorary Unicorn

Rainbow Dash is always a great choice for your bronies. While Rainbow Dash lacks a horn, it’s pretty safe to assume she was likely the victim of a hate crime and is, in fact, a unicorn. There is just way too much rainbow happening there to be anything else. Buy her in doll form (as pictured above), or in this spank-worthy awesome hoodie version:

Rainbow Dash is the shit! (Click to see item on Think Geek)

For the animation lover:

I have access to a sweet ass supply of these lil dudes at Universal Studio’s Minion’s ride (From the movie Despicable Me). If you’re interested, hit me up in the comments and I’ll see how I can get one to you…

Get the Unicorn from Despicable Me!

It really is “so fluffy” and adorable. Smith got me this as a blog mascot. 😀

For the hipster, or for Smith to get me <HINT HINT>:

Seeing is believing!

For the serious, no-farts-allowed person in your life:

A Swarovski unicorn from Zale’s! If you know me, you know my accessories are always Swarovskied to the bejesus because that shit twinkles like the dickens, I tells ya! Girls and twinkles just go together like ladies and… jelly.

Sparkle, sparkle muthafugga! On sale at Zale’s!

For the fine-art connoisseur on your list:

How’s about a Prince riding a unicorn painting? (This is the shit that made the doves cry…17 dove tears of pure awesomeness!)

Prince Riding a Unicorn Painting!

And finally, for your favorite foodie:

There is no possible way that you could go wrong with these. Buy a “shitload.” That is all.

Unicorn Poop Sugar Cookies!

To my Black Friday-ers: stay safe out there! And for goodness sake boys, be sure pad the penies! Girls will be throwin’ ‘bos like no one’s business and you won’t be able to celebrate a great deal with a bruised testicle!

xo ❤

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Weekend at Bernie’s – the musical

One of my very good friends, Penny, worked across the hall from me, for Broadway. She is smart, great at her job and has the best sense of humor, and despite this story, is not in the least bit air-headed. The fact that she is not air-headed is likely why this happening made me laugh so hard.

BCW4e! *hearts and flowerz and unicorn sparklez*

Penny liked to keep her door open, so throughout the day little bits and pieces of her phone conversations would float into my office. One afternoon I could hear her talking on the phone with a customer. It was a LONG, serious conversation where the caller, in addition to every other show under the sun, was asking about the musical La Cage Aux Folles (La Cage is the original version of the popular Robyn Williams movie, The Bird Cage.) By the time that Penny’s conversation was over, I was laughing so loud that I had to remove myself from my office.

I am about to Kill Bill this and piece together everything from the end of the story backwards (this way I can tell you what the caller said per Penny.)

Penny: “People LOVE La Cage… and you know what, they have a celebrity lead starring in it right now!”

Caller: “Oh really?!”

Penny: “Oh yes! You know that guy, George Harrison?”

Caller: “Yes! Of course!”

Penny: “Well, he’s in it!”

(*This is where my wild laughter starts*)

Caller: …

Penny: “Hello?”

Caller: “Oh…okkkay. I just… yes, I would like to go to that show.”

Later when Penny got off the phone I said “So you know that last caller… when you told her George Harrison was in La Cage, did she seem surprised?”

“Yeah! She did! How did you know that?!”

“Because you just told her a dead Beatle was going to be in her viewing of La Cage.”

“Huh? I did? Geroge Harrison isn’t the… oh $hit, it’s GEORGE HAMILTON!!!”

Penny then constructed the following email to the customer:

“Dear <Mrs. Smith>,

I regret to inform you that the deceased member of the Beatles will not be in your viewing of La Cage Aux Folles. Instead, it will be this guy, George Hamilton.

Not a dead Beatle after all.

I am sorry for the confusion.

Sincerely,

Penny”

I guess they can’t revive everything on Broadway!

The Rhinestone Cowboy

In my offline life, among other things, I am a singer. The first band I was hired to front was a country band.

Proof.

I did not know any country music at the time – but I learned quickly and grew to enjoy the genres. The manager of the band and I hit it off and became close friends. With that friendship, I learned all things country. There were rodeos, NASCAR races, George Straight concerts, moonshine, cowboy hats, front porch-pickin, boots… trailers, sexy lady mud flaps – it was country-tastic. On one of our many country-themed adventures, I was asked to accompany Tim (the manager) and his friends to “The Country Corral.” I inquired as to what the heck that even meant.

“What the hell kind of place is that?”

“Ah, it’s great! There’s a dance floor and it’t packed! We like to sit on the side and watch all the lady butts.”

“So, let me get this, you want me… to go to ‘The Corral’… and stand along the side and watch lady butts with you? MMMMmmm… nyew.”

“No, we just do that sometimes, you gotta go!”

So, after a bit of coaxing and bargaining, I agreed to go:

“Well if we get out there and I crack a window and hear banjos, just remember that you did that to your buttholes – not me.”

YEEHAW! (Click to buy these vintage notecards!)

The journey to The Country Corral was composed of 6 people: Myself, Tim, his bff Kevin, and Kevin brought his work friend, Slick. (Slick brought 2 work friends, that we lost at the door and I haven’t seen them since.) I don’t think “Slick” was his real name, but he answered to it and it was all I ever knew. Slick was an odd nickname to me, because “Slick” was a city boy – but by gawd, he was eating this country shit up with a spoon!

We arrived at the crowded door, and eventually made our way towards the bar. On our way, we saw it. The mechanical bull line. This was no country fair mechanical bull – this was a training bull, with a line of actual rodeo cowboys in wait.

“Look at that!” Shouted Slick

“Yeah buddy, I don’t think that’s for you tonight.” Said Tim

We found a table near the band and took a seat. Slick watched that bull all night from our camp. Slick also drank Goldschlager until he was so marble-mouthed, that I heard him introduce himself as “Shit” to some chick.

“They call me Schlitt”

It was about 12:15AM when Slick announced. “Sheyy evurybuday, *hiccups* I’m gonna dew et! I’ma ridin’ that bull!”

Yeah buddy.

Being a little tipsy ourselves, it sounded like a great idea at the time and we enthusiastically accompanied Slick over to the ride line. After a 30 minute wait amid buckles and boots – tennis shoe wearing slick finally got his turn. Slick was wobbly as hell on approach, jittering all over the bounce house-like fall mat floor. Slick eventually mounted the robo beast and the rodeo began. The bull went down, Slick snapped up. The bull went up, Slick slapped down on that shit like a sack of potatoes. Now, let me explain that Slick was wearing tight jeans. I think he thought they looked like cowboy jeans. But they did not have the same quality stitching, because when Slick’s ass smacked down on that bull – he split his jeans clean open. The entire inseam right down to the knee. It was like make shift denim short chaps with matching denim leg warmers. Kevin, Tim and I almost pissed ourselves laughing. Odder even, Slick didn’t know he was riding that bull in his panties until the end of the ride, where he was ultimately tossed head over foot 5 to 10 feet, exactly 4 seconds after the ride began.

Woaaaah, Nelly! (Click to buy this vintage notecard.)

After about 2 minutes of adrenaline detox, Slick noticed his jeans. Slick was pissed. Drunk Kevin and Tim then said, “Hey man! I think we can fix ’em up!” We retreated to the car where Tim whipped out a giant roll of duct tape from the trunk. (I’ve since learned that most boys are traveling with duct tape in their trunk. Duct tape to boys must be like extra shoes to girls.) Tim and Kevin then began to piece the jeans back together with the tape. By the end of it all, we retuned to The Country Corral dance floor with Slick and his new shiny silver jeans.

It’s worth noting that at about 3:45AM we were cutting said jeans off of Slick outside a Waffle House. Lots of beer and booze make permanent duct tape jeans a poor choice in apparel.

“We can stay up late, telling manly stories, then in the morning… I’m makin’ waffles!”