Thank You Thursdays!

When I realize it’s Thursday, (because normally I do not know what day of the week it actually is and I go by “it feels like a Tuesday today” kind of logic) I’m going to make a conscious effort to post something I am thankful for- because “Thankful Thursdays” sounds good and I’m going to make this a universal thing just like that time when I made short busses come into style. With that, today I’m thankful for the ability to find humor in most anything. It always makes life entertaining. Let me share a few random places that have left me with the giggles lately:

1. This quote from Michael Scott on The Office about a character he made up and cried about for a non-existant movie he never made:

He had no arms or legs. He couldn’t see, hear, or speak. This is how he led a nation.

*This* is how he led a nation? *This* is? That just makes me lmao!

2. That time I saw an ice cream truck that read “Watch out for the childrens.” That’s right, “childrens” – with an s. How many dang kids are eating popsicles there that “children” needs to become more plural?!


3. This girl’s reaction to seeing her spotty coverage map on this Verizon commercial:

What the hell am I seeing right now?!

4. This meme @SngleMomConfssn posted about diets:



5. The sign burning out on our Embassy Suites, to only reveal “Assy Suites” (Forgive the blurriness, Smith was driving at the speed of light and I took this shot right before we blasted back in time.)

Dang, I gotta mini fridge and a writing desk - these suites is assy as hell! *4 stars*

“Dang, I gotta mini fridge and a writing desk – these suites is assy as hell!” *4 stars*

6. Inspirational Mr. T on a unicorn:

Follow your dreams, fool!

7. And this “What I gotta put this on, #PowerRanger?” quote from this girl about it being to hot out side this past summer. (NSFW – language)

Bahaha! Laughing is good. Anyhoo – find something that makes you laugh and share it today! Happy Thank You Thursday!


Your Lady Garden and You – a magical journey.

An awesome friend of mine has a daughter who has “become a woman.” Talking about it with her has made me think back to when I was that age and all of my friends were dropping like flies into the monsoons of their lady gardens – so I have decided to make a quick post to let you young ladies know, “it gets better.”

It gets better, ladies.

How to manage:

A. I like to refer to the area in a comical manner. “Lady Garden” seems to suit it well. No one wants to be clinical when it comes to discussing things with anyone that isn’t a doctor. Even with a doctor I struggle to be clinical without throwing up in my mouth a little. Referring to it as your Lady Garden, or some other quirky name, makes it way easier to joke and discuss the happenings therein with your friends. Note: Well before the term “Lady Garden” was officially adopted, my Grandma referred to it as a “Muffin” and your “Muffin Basket.” Which I always found hilarious. To this very day I use the terms interchangeably.

B. Therefore that “time of the month” can easily be stated as “It’s raining in my lady garden” or “I have soggy muffins.”

C. Pads, tampons, various accoutrements associated with your Lady Garden/ Muffin Basket are to be known as “party favors.” Then no one ever has to overhear you asking anyone for anything. “I forgot my party favors, do you have one?!”

D. Speaking of tampons – wait ’til you go to college for those things. Or be like me and kinda wait ’til you graduate college and you panic because a group of friends with a boy your interested in book a vacation in a tropical beach oasis where you’ll have to wear a swimsuit nearly every day. Either way, you’ll need to buy some extras and practice… by “practice” I mean lock yourself in the bathroom yelling out “AAAAAKKK WHAT IS HAPPENINNNGGG????” for 30 to 75 minutes of uncomfortable joy. Tip: If at any point after you put it in, you can still feel it, you’re doing it wrong. You gotta be sure to push that party favor to the top of the mountain or you’re sure to fail the expedition.

Yeah, you’re doing it wrong.

E. Everyone is freaking out about it. If “they” ever make fun of you for anything it’s because they’re terrified of whatever it is happening to them. So in that sense if anything embarrassing ever does happen, you’re kinda like a super hero who lived to tell the tale! Also, if they’re making fun of you in general it’s probably because the weren’t hugged enough as a child – or they have a secret hairy mole that their parents lovingly named Petunia. Anyhoo, be strong young padawan.

F. Find a partner in crime that can “spot check” for you. Come up with a code phrase like “Do you *know* when football season starts?” *wink wink* Then you can scoot out and let her check to see if your Lady Garden fountain has sprung a leak. (Know that 97 out of 100 times it has NOT. We’re just paranoid.)

Wink Wink.

G. You know that tiny useless pocket in your backpack or purse that’s good for nothing? Well it’s good for hiding the holy grail of emergency party favors. I had a friend that would wrap them up in a piece of aluminum foil incase it ever accidentally fell out of her bag while onlookers were present.

Nothing to see here, it’s just some tin foil!

I think a cheapo eye glasses case works wonders. One day you’ll grow to be unashamed and stash them in your boyfriend’s car door, or in your tiny azz purse for all the world to gaze upon, like me!

There may come a time….

1. There may come a time that you spring a leak while you are waiting in a lobby for your best friend and designated spot checker to get out of advisor counseling. Even though you are wearing jean shorts and drinking a Blue Coconut Route 44 slush that you guys got on happy hour at Sonics that matches the color of your jeans perfectly, do not try to dye your pants in the handicapped stall of the school bathroom. This plan ends in disaster because you have to wet your entire shorts in order to make it look like you didn’t just pee yourself by only trying to dye the “affected areas.” Also, it’s cold in there and you miss out on the rest of your delicious half-priced slush.

Blue Coconut Slushes For EVERYONE!

2. There may come another time when a friend is hip hopping through the school giving Friday end-of-day shout outs to everyone she knows with (unknowingly) her pad sticking out of her short’s leg. Do not panic. Run over to her, back her into the lockers, give her your gym shirt and tell her “Do not ask any questions, tie this around your waist and go to the bathroom… NOW!” You guys will still have time to call your mom to pick you both up because you missed the bus home.

Nothing to see here, folks.

3. There may yet still come another time that your friends all plan a trip to a water park while it is about to rain in your Lady Garden. This is a time you may want to investigate using the torpedo of party favors, or avoid going in the water past your knees. Whatever you do, do not ride “The Black Hole” high speed water slide with a pad on. You go in looking like the Queen and come out looking like a brick layer… or a brick smuggler to be more accurate. Luckily, you found someone to walk behind you while you hurry to the bathroom to panic and marvel at the amount of water one of those things can soak up.

Nope, nothing.

Keep in mind, the best way to get through anything difficult is to know that someone else got through it too. Share your embarrassing stories with your friends that embarrassing things happened to. It will make them feel better and both of you will always know that with a little laughter, “it <always> gets better!”


Grandma’s Cleaner



The doorbell rang at about noon today. Smith, wearing only one sock answered the door. I should offer that he was fully clothed besides the one sock, but please know that I debated informing you of that for at least 3 minutes. It is unclear to me why he was only wearing one sock, but he had been wearing just the one sock for at least 3.25 hours by my guestimation. I was cleaning so I did not proceed to the door. Come to think of it, I usually never go to the door because I am almost always in my underwear. Don’t you judge me, I like to stay nimble incase of a fire or natural disaster. Anyhow, from where I was I heard the following:

Smith: “Mumble mumble”

Man Voice: “Good! Mumble Mumble?”

Smith and Man Voice: “Grumble grumble”

I then heard them both giggle as they went outside and closed the front door behind them. I thought: “I wonder if they were talking about I can has a cheesyburger.” (cause that’s what I giggle about 8-15 hours of my normal day to day.)

(How can you not laugh about this?)

10 minutes later Smith came storming into the house from the garage exclaiming “QUICK! I need a squirt bottle! Where are the squirt bottles?!” (As if we have so many of them that there is some sort of room or storage space in our house just for storage of said bottles.) After pulling the contents of the under sink cabinet out, he retrieved a bottle and literally ran out of the back door with the squirt bottle in the air, “I’ll be back in a minute… I gotta… mildew! This is AMAZING!!!”

Hmm… was the visitor a scientist? At this point I was curious, but not curious enough to put on pants. Fifteen minutes after that Smith came back in to retrieve money. Five minutes after that he brought in a hot pink bottle of solution that he just bought off of, for all I know was, a vagabond.

Smith talked me into putting on pants to show me all of the things he and this strange man cleaned around our house to “put his solution to the test.” I was pleasantly surprised because when I say this stuff cleaned, it cleaned the shit outta some shit. Mold on bricks, gutters, break dust, the ground, a wall of something or other. It was pretty cool. I think Smith thought so too because he acted as if the solution was an Easter Miracle. He currently has the bottle “resting” on my side of the bed. The point of this story is, if someone comes to your door selling “Grandma’s Cleaner” put on some pants and buy that shiz. Then clean some shiz. You’ll be happy you did. Unless it turns out that this shiz is poison, but he literally squirted it in his mouth as part of his demonstration. Now I want to spray it in my mouth just to see if it tastes like strawberries. Which is likely how they used to knock off kings and shit back in the day. Well played, vagabond. Well played.


P.S. I found this guy selling Grandma’s Cleaner on YouTube. Smith said this wasn’t our guy, but that he was just as entertaining.

The Magic of Rahat and The Lone Nut

I have been off in the wild blue yonder fighting the forest fires of the internal turmoil that are my artistic endeavors. (It’s not actually turmoil, but I liked that it made it seem more dramatic.) I have also been consuming a lot of Pad Thai and midnight VH1. SO I have decided to post something enjoyable that is shorter, as it might be a better route than waiting until I have the eight years I need to put together what I deem to be “a proper post.”

I will start with the following. Before your mind gets scared, this is picture proof of Smith’s insistence on clinging to the empty tinfoil of cookies that he consumed over Christmas. He is currently insisting on keeping this remnant of holiday bliss because it houses one, lone, chocolate-covered cashew that fell off of a chocolate haystack circa December 28th. Warning, what you are about to see may disturb you:

I'll won't let go, Jack. I'll never let go.

I’ll won’t let go, Jack. I’ll never let go.

Next, this video made me laugh extremely hard today. I may be overreacting, but if I were about twenty years older, I am more than certain I would have needed a Poise pad and possibly a bath.

I hope you enjoy this video as much as I did.

For the 50+ crowd, please feel free to use a Poise at your discretion.

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.


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!”

Pride! In the Name of Love!

U2 must love the shit outta some gay people. I can’t blame them, gay people are awesome.

If you are curious what the heck goes on at a gay pride festival, Google no more my friends! Smith and I (straight) have more gay friends than straight friends. We don’t quite know how that happened, but we are thankful for all of the gourmet foods we’ve been sampling, and good times we’ve been having as result thereof. I would strongly suggest that if you can whip up a few gay neighbors, to do so. You will have the best time at their barbecues. Think of it, every morning going to get the mail and running into an Anderson Cooper or an Ellen. Now, that can’t suck. Also, your property values will likely sky rocket, just from being in close vicinity to their meticulously groomed yards. Come to think of it, Gays might even get us out of the housing market crash altogether. Again, I can’t recommend getting some gay friends and neighbors enough.

There is nothing quite like a gay crowd that is ready to party. They are happy and loving and open to partying with anyone that wants to join – gay or straight. Pride, is a perfect example of that. We go with our friends every year- to celebrate them being them.

The PRIDE! Preparation:

First, I rainbowed my toes-

A rainbow a day keeps the blues away!

Next, I made and wore this sign to celebrate our gay friends out loud:

“My gay friends are so fabulous, they sweat glitter”

I made shirts for them that are the original saying: FU I’m So Fabulous, I sweat glitter tee for sale HERE

Then it was time to go to the parade. Like I said, they welcomed EVERYone to join in. To support this statement, there was a preachy hater man on the corner with a megaphone – yelling about the gay community being devils and going to hell. How does a gay person react to this? Several gay people tried to get a high-five from him. Now, if that isn’t an open reaction- I don’t know what is. My straight reaction was to show him my butthole, but gay people are so much more classier than I.

In the parade there were floats:

Silverman is Canadian? Who knew?

There were sailors:

Sailor aboard the Hamburger Mary’s float

There were representatives from Southwest Airlines:

The real reason airlines keep blankets on hand for the chills… cold captains.

There were British men in underwears:

I see your panties!

There were awesome politicians:

Alan Gray,SON!

There were dudes so happy they were holding their feet way up in the air:

Damn, that dude can flex!

As the sun went down, there were friends in twinkle lights:

Two of my lovelies ❤

There were live drumming DJ’s that made everyone party at the amphitheater:

Shake yo groove thangs!

There was a big gay rainbow fountain, that I tried to smuggle home with me:

Gay Eola fountain 😀

There were fireworks as we walked to our car that night:


There was also Debbie Gibson at 1am… I only made it ’til 8-ish before I needed to go eat gelato. Win some, lose some. Side note, I though Debbie was a drag queen* and was like “damn, that dude looks pretty good. I can hardly tell.” (That’s right, “hardly.”)

Note: If you are in the Orlando area, Pride! lasts ALL THIS WEEK. This was just the kick-off night. I told you gay people  know how to throw a party!

Click here to learn more about PRIDE -Orlando festivities on their site. Hope to see you there in 2013!

*In modern days I’ve learned that there’s a difference between transvestites and drag queens, not that it matters much – they’re both normally gorgeous and make me jealous of their beauty in some way or another. ❤

FU Crappy Giveaway Contest!

Your fridge is about to be awesome-o 5thousanded!

Ladies and gentleman, (I say “man” because I’m pretty sure there’s only one dude following this – and he may or may not have been bribed with a crisp $5 bill from my lovely boyfriend…) I have some official Foghorn Unicorn magnets! One of them could be yours! I know this may not seem exciting, but I urge you to consult the graph below for reassurance that it is, in fact, very exciting!

Whoa, that’s science!

How to win the official Foghorn Unicorn magnet valued at an estimated One Billion Dollars*:

Leave a comment/reply (on this post) that makes me chuckle. In a word, link to a meme, a sentence, a short story, link to a photo, an observation… whatever you choose. Best giggle wins. All giggles will be shared on the official Foghorn Unicorn Facebook page.


This is a chance for you to be exposed to tens(10’s) of people*! Whoa!

Contest ends Friday, Sept. 21 so that the endorphins of your win propel you into a weekend of celebratory euphoria*!

OMG everyone* wants this!

*May be an exaggeration.

GOOD LUCK! Let the giggles begin!!! 😀


Okay, I’m getting some feedback on “how to play.” If you are wondering how to play this game, you’ve already over-thunk this. It’s really this easy:

Step 1: You laugh at something… a picture on FB, a phrase, a joke, etc.

Step 2: You share that something in the comments below

Step 3: You make me laugh because of that same something

Step 4: You win! (And all of your dreams in life come true!)*

Secret Game Cheat code: Up arrow + A button = I laugh at most everything

Yes it maybe nonstandard, but sometimes you can use “thunk” and still have gone to college:

I PityDaFoo’ Who Steals My Amy’s Bowl!

Someone has been stealing frozen lunches from the community fridge in the break room at work. Whoever it is knows they are stealing too – because everyone writes their names on their food. I haven’t felt the wrath yet. I would like to believe it is for one of two reasons; A. Because I am too awesome to want to steal anything from -OR- B. Because upon hearing of the missing food antics – I began to leave messages for the thief:

 “Your daily horoscope: 1. Eat Bowl: I will cut yew | 2. Don’t Eat Bowl: Live FOREVER! 🙂 N “

“You will want to keep this frozen for your black eye. ❤ Nicole”

” (You don’t want this to be your last meal, now do you? 🙂 Love, Nicole )”

“I will cut yew – and then I will giggle. xoxo”

You have been warned.

I pity da fool who steals my Amy’s!

Excuse Me While I Kiss This Guy!

I was driving home today, jammin’ to the radio, as usual. Upon hearing “Whistle” by Flo Rida, my innocent mind was like “What the heck does he have a whistle for? Why would anyone blow on some stranger’s whistle… ut oh… oh, oh Flo Rida, you so naaaaasty…”

This got me thinking about how I have a knack for misinterpreting song lyrics. Problem is, when I finally do learn the actual lyric, it’s way too late to correct the wrong lyric in my brain. Once introduced to ridiculousness, my brain won’t accept anything less than ridiculous for replacement of previously learned and accepted-as-fact knowledge.

What lyrics have you been singing totally wrong, or misinterpreting the meaning of? If you are one of those people that played “Lips of an Angel” by Hinder at your wedding, or busted out with “There’s a bathroom on the right” when singing along with CCR, then you’re just as effed up as me! Here are some song lyrics that I still sing the way I initially interpreted them, even though I know I’m totally wrong. (The actual song title and artist is listed after the associated pic.)

I can’t butter shit around here!

“Better Man” by Pearl Jam “Can’t find a better man…”

Ya know… originally off the coast of Africa!

“Rock You Like a Hurricane” by The Scorpions “Here I am, rock you like a hurricane…”

It was easier to tag the toe I suppose.

“I’d Die Without You” by PM DAWN “Since I, died without you…”

Side Note: My best friend and I called 102 Jams radio station in Greensboro, NC with these lyrics – they asked us to write a whole song verse. We did, and they played a sound byte of us singing it for a month. It was awesome!

Who can blame you?!

“Miss You Like Crazy” by Natalie Cole “I miss ya like crazzzzy…”


“Dirty Deeds” by AC/DC “Dirty deeds, done dirt cheap…”

Oh Stumpy, you are a card!

“The Stroke” by Billy Squire “Stroke me, stroke me
Could be a winner boy you move mighty well…”

Better take some Monkey Nyquil.

“Down with the Sickness” by Disturbed “You mother get up
Come on get down with the sickness…”

Spam, the other white meat.

“Informer” by Snow “Informer
You know say Daddy Snow me, I’m gonna blame
A licky boom-boom down…”

Zom- bees?!

“Thriller” by Michael Jackson “‘Cause this is thriller, thriller night
And no one’s gonna save you from the beast about strike…”

The penis wants what the penis wants, and the penis wants a genie.

“Venus” by Bananarama “Well, I’m your Venus, I’m your fire
At your desire…”