Okay, so what the hell is up with guys and car sun visors? Why are they always cramming crap up in the visor?? It’s not a pocket guys, it’s a sun visor. If you’re driving down the road and the sun decides to be all rude and intrusive and shift just enough to blind you, you should be able to flip down the handy sun visor and reclaim your ability to see once again. But, if you are lucky enough to be sharing vehicle use with a male, this is not an option. Nope, the second you try to move that damn visor, you are assaulted by mail and glasses and whatever else they thought to cram into the visor. Like, do they WANT you to shriek and swerve off the road and possibly die in a fiery blaze?? Cause that is just rude y’all. So all you fellas that do this, STOP IT! Other wise, you will totally be responsible for a fiery blaze sort of death and you’ll probably go to prison and some dude named Vito will make you his bitch and you won’t get visitors or mail, ’cause who wants to visit the guy that killed some poor person via sun visor? Trust me, it’s just not worth the risk. Stop using the damn sun visor as a pocket and everyone wins.
So, back in the day, my buddy Caron and I were often left to entertain ourselves while the adults did their adult thing. I’m fairly certain this was not the best choice on their part, but whatever. Anywho, Caron and I did all sorts of stuff to stay entertained and such. We played tennis in the street, tried our hands at a vague version of golf (which, incidentally, ended with us having to ask her very baffled neighbor if we could retrieve our golf CLUB from their backyard), we did mad libs and watched t.v. for ungodly amounts of time and tested the hit-the-buttons-randomly-and-rapidly-until-something-cool-happens style of Nintendo playing and various other random things to pass the time. Well, one day, we got it in our heads to try creating a bizarre sort of concoction consisting of every single liquid substance available in my house. Literally. Every. Single. Liquid. Cleaners and booze and condiments and god knows what else went into our coffee can. It was super fascinating and fun…right up until it dawned on us that we now had a coffee can filled with a rather frighteningly noxious creation that had to be disposed of before the adults came home and expected some sort of rational explanation for our experiment. Well shit. We totally had not thought ahead on this. So, we had the brilliant idea to just dump it out near the gravel drive thingy in my back yard. Problem solved. We spent a few minutes feeling all smart and such, then promptly forgot all about it. So when, months later, my mom’s boyfriend called us into the backyard, we thought nothing of it. And then he showed us the perfect circle of dead grass which stubbornly refused to allow any life to flourish within its boundaries. So they we were, mom’s bf looking at us expectantly and asking if we had any idea what could have happened there, and Caron and I trying desperately to think up some sort of it-definitely-wasn’t-us explanation. Grass killing maniacs? serial grass killers? Crop circles? I mean, that one could work, right? There’s always stories of those mean ole’ aliens making circles wherever they feel like it and creating small scale mayhem in the process. And, if you look at it the right way, even if maybe it wasn’t aliens, maybe the fact that it looked all crop-circle-y saved us from a genuine alien visit. Like, maybe they saw the crop circle thing and thought that one of their buddy crews had already been there, so they just went to the next place and left us alone. Seriously, we may have saved lives here! Thanks to our ingeniousness, aliens didn’t crop-cicle us and nobody got probed or abducted. Really, we should get medals.
Why do people think the general public needs to know gross things about our bodies? Like, why the hell do we need to know about the icky buggy things that reside on our bodies at all times? As a rule, I avoid any and all shows that try to force this information on me, but sometimes the sneaky bastards just cram crap into a commercial and I see it and then I freak out ’cause there’s FREAKING BUGS LIVING ON MY FACE! On my face, y’all. And on your face. And you’re cousin’s best friend’s face. WTEFF?!?!? I do not want to know about this and I super hate the fuckers that made the commercial that not only told me about this nightmarish infestation–they threw in a freaking picture of the evil little face-dwelling monstrosities. I do apologize for sharing this with you, but at least I didn’t post a picture of the nasty things. Speaking of nasty little icky things, what the hell is the point of leeches?? Like, what purpose do they serve? What’s up with their existence? Who decided to eat frog legs? And why just the legs? Are their little froggy arms not tasty enough? Froggy is totally a word spellcheck! You’re just mean and judgy and….judgy is a word too, damn it! I finished my Bloggess book and it was AH-MAZING!