sinuses and statutesI’m faking it today.  Wait, I should be more specific, as today is my wedding anniversary and people may get the right wrong idea.  Let me start over.

I’m not writing a new blog post today.  Well, it’s new to you, unless you follow my syndicated newspaper column, WHICH YOU SHOULD BE.

Anywhoo, for those of you who don’t openly stalk me in all forms of media, I will tell you that I write a hilariously fantastic syndicated newspaper column about the funnier side of practicing law.

If your local newspaper/magazine/whatever thing that’s published or printed or on line doesn’t carry this column, please contact them immediately, tell them it’s a travesty and they must right this wrong by picking up the column.  Tears help.

It’s really the only road to justice.

So instead of writing a new post for tonight, I’m posting the column I wrote for this week.  Don’t worry, it’s the same sub par writing you’re used to.  I didn’t raise the bar just because it’s printed in newspapers.

woman home from work sickAnd seriously, have that publication contact me.  If they’re looking for a crazy woman to write about random non-sensical stuff, send them my way too.

That’s my specialty.

Sinuses and Statutes

I’ve been sick for a week.  Yes, a full week.  I’m not talking about the kind of sick my husband gets, where a few sniffles render him incapacitated and in constant need of pampering.

I’m talking about full-on fever and serious-sinus sick.

Feel free to pity me and sympathize.  I’m accepting sympathy cards and gifts.

Although I enjoy practicing law (most of the time), I don’t enjoy it when I’m sick.  Actually, I despise the practice of law when I’m sick.

Maybe it’s not the practice itself that I hate when I’m sick, although arguing motions can be nauseating much of the time.

woman blowing noseWhat I hate about practicing law and being sick is that the law (and the lawyers and the judges) don’t care if you’re sick.

Most of the time, they don’t even notice.

This week, I worked every day despite how I felt.  I drudged to work as my white blood cell count grew, and my energy shrunk.

I pushed ahead because I knew I had to.  I knew no one else would do my job for me, and no one would accept the “I’m sick” excuse.

If only when I was younger I would have known I couldn’t rely on that excuse as an adult.  I would have taken a lot more sick days to make up for the ones I can’t take now.

I have a sinus infection, which means I cough every minute or so, and sound like I’ve been a 3-pack a day smoker for 30 years.

I can practically smell the stale cigarette smoke coming from my clothes, and I don’t smoke.  That’s how convincing my cough is.

close up of blowing noseI also don’t have much of a voice, and what’s left of it is raspy and irritable.  (The irritability may be due to my inflection, and not so much the voice box itself.)

My face looks swollen and one look at me tells you I’m in misery at my motion hearing; at least far more than normal.

Yet no one asked.  No one inquired as to why I was carrying around a box of Kleenex.  No one inquired as to why I was swigging cough syrup under the table.

I was especially surprised no one inquired as to why I was lugging around an IV stand.

Okay, so I didn’t have an IV, but I should have.  Probably.  Maybe.

Is the legal profession so busy that we can’t stop and take a Vicks-filled breath of air every now and again?   Are we so important that we can’t stop to smell the roses, only to not be able to catch the scent because of a clogged nose?

Based upon my experience this past week, it seems like that’s the case.  Perhaps it was my Sudafed-stupor, but I began to wonder why we don’t give more deference to our colleagues when they’re sick.

sick woman in bedIt also made me wonder why we have to sign away our first-born to get a good antihistamine.

Perhaps we wouldn’t be susceptible to illness if we were a little kinder to our brethren.  Perhaps we’d all be better off if we stopped to ask questions if someone looked ill.

Perhaps we’d be better colleagues if we asked the woman copping a squat in the law library if she was doing so because her fever broke or because she was knocked over by a brilliant legal argument. (She wasn’t.)

Yes, our jobs are important, but so are our lives.  Sometimes a deposition can wait.  Sometimes a conference call can be rescheduled.  Sometimes a two hour lunch is warranted.

Okay, so maybe that last one wasn’t related to being sick, but it’s true.

So the next time you see opposing counsel hacking up a lung, ask if there’s a better time to discuss settlement.  The next time you observe a judge popping cough drops continuously, ask if he (or she) is feeling okay.

It might go a long way, and might just make the profession a little easier to handle during the cold and flu season.

And wash your hands.  Please oh please, wash your hands.

washing hands

©2013 Under Analysis, LLC.  Under Analysis is a nationally syndicated column of The Levison Group.

Photo from


I don’t watch Teen Moms on MTV.  If I wanted to see teen moms, I’d just go to the food court at the mall, as that’s where I find them in my town.

I think many of them believe the toddler play area is a free daycare service provided by the local Cinnabon employees.

Wait.  I think some of those teen moms are local Cinnabon employees.

Anyway, this post isn’t about the teen moms who keep me fat with copious amount of icing.  (Did you know they let you just order icing?)

This post is about Farrah Abraham, who was previously on Teen Moms.  I refuse to watch MTV ever since The Hills was cancelled, so I’m not familiar with the show.

I’m no genius (and neither is the MTV viewer demographic), but I suspect it’s a show about teen moms.

A quick search of the interwebs confirmed my suspicions, and Farrah was one of the moms featured.

Apparently, the role-model mom made a sex tape and sold it for nearly $1 million.  That’s quite the after-school job and beats the crap out of my high school job bagging groceries.

According to Farrah, she made the tape “for her personal use only.”  You know, like most teen moms raising a kid on their own do.

Being a single parent is hard and not always respected by society.  What better way to (1) earn money and (2) gain the respect of others, than by making a sex tape?

The logic is infallable.  (As is MTV’s ability to make idiotic programming.)

'Teen Mom' Farrah Abraham (Photo: Scott Gries/MTV)

‘Teen Mom’ Farrah Abraham (Photo: Scott Gries/MTV)

According to Business Insider, Farrah made the tape with no intention of selling it, and I believe her.  I know all the times I’ve made a sex tape, I’ve done so for those nights when The Big Bang Theory is in reruns and there’s nothing on HBO.

What better way to wind down from a long day at work than to watch a video of myself naked?

Some accuse Farrah of doing this for money, but I don’t see any evidence to support that.  Let’s analyze this and strip down to the bare facts.

First, if she wanted to make a sex tape to sell, would she choose infamous p0rn star James Deen to do the deed with her?  Of course not.

What purpose would that serve?  To increase sales with a well-known dong?  Pft!  Farrah’s better than that.

According to Business Insider, James Deen, has been in over 1,300 “adult” films.  I can only assume that’s a reference to films about algebra and physics, as those are certainly “adult” topics.

I’m sure Farrah had no intention of making this film for profit.  I mean, in my single days, I can’t tell you how many times I solicited infamous p0rn stars to make sex tapes with me just for fun.  Just for shits and giggles.  (Ironically, that was the name of a film I wanted to make.)

sex tapeMaking a sex tape with a p0rn star does not a p0rn star make.

Granted, at first Farrah denied the tape existed, but isn’t that the standard protocol for all sex tape scandals?

Fine role models like Kim Kardashian and Paris Hilton set the Gold Coin Condom standard for the proper way to handle the distribution of sex tapes.  The first step is deny, deny deny!

Actually, the first step is to make a p0rno, but those ladies don’t seem like they’re very good with counting anything but the dollars made by their…ahem…hard work.

So I don’t fault Farrah for denying the tape’s existence.  That’s how it gets publicity. Isn’t that how the Loch Ness Monster stays relevant?  If he admitted his existence, his elusive gig would be all over.

Farrah is just taking a page from the book of our favorite amphibian.

Apparently the video has a name, Farrah Superstar:  Backdoor Teen Mom.  I’m sure that’s just the name she wrote on the sticker on the outside of the VHS tape.

I usually label my videos with titles like Lisa Loves Laundry or Suburbanite Scrubbing Sinks. Those accurately describe the contents, while using a clever name.



So I don’t fault Farrah.  I’m sure the video involves her greeting a guest at the backdoor…where all self-respecting women greet their overnight guests.

Farrah is really just a victim and James Deen is the one to blame.

After all, he went on The Today Show and told America it was all a scheme.  He said she tried to fake a relationship with him and invite paparazzi to photograph them “on a date” so the release of the “oopsie” video would be believable, but Deen wouldn’t do it.

He has standards, which are just what I look for in my favorite adult film star.

Deen refused to go “out” with her in public and let the tabloids video it.  That would just be crude.  He was fine going “in” (and out) with her in private (and in her privates).

Videotaping that was totally fine.

But go to Starbucks for a coffee and let photographers snatch some shots?  What is he?  A prostitute?  Someone who has sex for money?  Someone who gets paid to do just about anyone for a pay check?

NO.  He has standards!  He’s a p0rn star for goodness sakes!

So I’m urging you, have some sympathy for Farrah.  After all, her name is Farrah Abraham, which sounds a lot like “Father Abraham” which is a super catchy song I used to sing as a kid.

And as we all know, Father Abraham had many sons (and many sons had Father Abraham.)

I bet she’s just trying to make more babies to live up to the legend of that song.  She seems like a really religious gal.

I took this and he didn't know it.  I crack up every time I look at it.

I took this and he didn’t know it. I crack up every time I look at it.

I’ve been sick for a week.  Yes, a full fricking week.  It’s been painful for everyone, but mostly me because…you know…I feel bad.  Duh.

Maybe it’s being home sick, or maybe it’s the medications I’m on that make me loopy, but I feel like my husband is being a bit more funny than usual. I’ll let you decide.

Here are a few examples of things he’s said recently.  Yes, these are actually things he’s said when he isn’t trying to be funny.

That fact makes me happy, and then sad, and then happy again.

Fashion Police

Matt in slippersAre you sad I don’t wear leather jackets?

Safety Conscious

Matt: “Why is that car waiting?  I’m not turning.”
Lisa:  “He’s just trying to be safe.”
Matt:  “He’s just trying to be a pussy.”


Log Cabin Lane?  That’s adorable but there’s no log cabin anywhere in sight.”

Internet Researcher

I want to know exactly how Kevin Ware hurt himself so I can make sure I don’t do the same thing.”

Matt and Bentley sleepingPillow talk

Why don’t you sleep with your head on the pillow?  It’s not good for your neck…and it’s really inconvenient for me. ”


Matt: “I’ll take the chicken Pad Thai, no vegetables.”
Waiter:  “Do you want peanuts with it?”
Matt: “Yes.”  (after the waiter walks away) Peanuts aren’t a vegetable, they’re a f*cking legume.”

All About Image

Yup, I”m all about my image.  It’s why I work in financial aid and drive a Saturn Ion.”

Directionally Challenged

Matt: “This Google Maps Street View is awesome.”
Lisa:  “What is it?”
Matt:  “It s a street view of Google Maps.”

Matt passed outSmart Ass (literally)

Lisa:  “Oh look, the entrance is in the rear.”
Matt:  *muttered under breath* “Not in this relationship it isn’t.”

Sniff Test

Matt:  “What’s that smell in here?”
Lisa:  “It’s onions.”
Matt:  “It smells like death.”

Literary Genius

I like my books like I like my women.  Cheap, and sometimes dirty.”

You’re jealous.  I know.  I’m a lucky gal.

funny crap my husband says, April 2013

I assume this is how fellow DGs reacted when they heard the news.

I assume this is how fellow DGs reacted when they heard the news.




I’ve got it!  I’ve got Rebecca Martinson’s resignation email!  

Okay, so it isn’t her actual resignation email, but it’s the one she sent to her sisters after she “resigned.”

Okay, so it isn’t anything she wrote.  I wrote it, but I totally channeled her the entire time, as evidenced by the derogatory comments and gratuitous cussing.  


I miss her already.

Dear asshats, cock blocks and fucking f@ggots**,

Are you sitting down?  I FUCKING hope so, because this shit is about to get real.  I’m officially resigning from the Delta Gamma sorority effective immediately.  RIGHT GOD-DAMNED NOW.

Why? I don’t want to be associated with a group of FUCKING AWKWARD GIRLS who don’t know how to talk to boys unless they’re drunk.

Consider this email a punch in your god-damned face, (or your crotch…same thing….) because that’s what you cock blocks need.

kicked outIs my “resignation” voluntary?  What do you think?  It’s about as voluntary as the mandatory Greek Week events that YOU FUCKING ASSHATS COULDN’T ATTEND WITHOUT FUCKING UP!

Is it your fault I’m “resigning?”  Of course it is, you stupid boners.

If one of you hadn’t leaked my email, we’d all be in sisterly bliss right now, dancing around our Greek Week winning trophy, circling each other’s body fat and hazing the shit out of freshmen…as we FUCKING SHOULD BE.

But instead, because you guys are FUCKING LOSERS, I’m out on the street, stripped of my DG letters.  Yes, I’m LITERALLY STRIPPED OF MY LETTERS.

Someone from panhellenic LITERALLY came over and ripped them off my body.

How did I find out I was “resigning”? When I came back to the sorority house after my History of Kickball 101 class, and discovered all my shit was boxed up and my room was locked.

I didn’t even get to pick up my FUCKING WHIPS AND CHAINS from my room to bust your asses.  Instead, I found my clothes burning in the lawn like a goddamned street rat.

This is a drawing I made of me c*nt punting all of you.

This is a drawing I made of me c*nt punting all of you.

Since it’s MID-FUCKING SEMESTER, and I can’t find anywhere to live, I had to use that glowing trash container to warm my skinny hands.

I’m only 100 fucking pounds, and I get cold easily.  Maybe if some of you would lay off the cheeseburgers, you’d know how this feels.

Because I have nowhere to live, I’m shacking up at the Sigma Nus, who were nice enough to let me stay with them.

Sure, it’s in their basement that’s comprised mostly of vomit and semen, but at least it’s not filled with a bunch of FUCKING LOSERS.

So watch yourselves, because if I see any of you cock blocks around, I swear to God I will still c*nt punt you across campus. It should be pretty easy since you guys seem to hoe it up with every fraternity in town except THE SIGMA FUCKING NUS.

Your vag’es should be big enough to fit my whole FUCKING FOOT UP IN THERE.  God knows half of the Phi Delt house has been up there already.  It’s practically they’re second home.

The one time I would wear these hideous boots is to kick your asses.

The one time I would wear these hideous boots is to kick your asses.

I just hope my stiletto doesn’t doesn’t get lost up there, although if it did, I might find a few other BONERS just like you roaming around.

You whiney bitches are probably saying “Oh Em Gee, Rebecca, vag’es isn’t a word.”  FUCK YEAH IT’S A WORD, and it’s used to describe awkward people like you who don’t know how to cheer at a kickball game.

Kick the ball.  Cheer.  IT’S NOT HARD.  It’s definitely not as hard as Alegebra 101.  Get over yourself.

So CONGRATU-FUCKING-LATIONS!  I’m out.  I’ve “resigned.”

I’m now going to head over to the Zetas, because although I hate them, and wouldn’t want to wear their letters, at least they’re not weird shits who do weird shit in the corner.

So long BITCHES!  Go fuck yourself…just don’t do it at the Sigma Nu’s.

Yours in DG love,


 broken heart

**Please note the use of this word is only because it was in the original email.  I couldn’t bring myself to type such a hateful word so I’ve used a symbol to make it less harsh.

My mom's purse and her blinged out phone case.

My mom’s purse and her blinged out phone case.

This is my future.  Look at it.  Is it a photo of a purse with faux fur on it?  Yes, yes it is.

HELP!Is it adorable?  Yes, but that’s not the point.  And the blinged out phone cover? Also adorable, but also gaudy, no?

The point is this:  I’m turning into my mother.

Don’t get my wrong, I tolerate love my mother, so turning into her is isn’t a bad thing.

But so soon?  So quickly?

I figured I’d be at least late 50s before the resemblences started creeping in.  Apparently not.

I’ve been denying it for years, but it’s quickly becoming a realization I don’t think I can deny anymore.  The transformation has begun!

<to be read in a loud voice with ominous music in the background.>

I know, I know, few more horrific words have ever been uttered.  It’s what every young girl fears the most.

Well, that and the clap, but I guess since I dodged that bullet, I’m stuck with the other fear.

Whether it’s the lesser of two evils is something I’m not sure of, although I know one of them can be cured with penicillin.

laughing with mouth openIt came on gradually (the transformation, not the clap). I think both ailments may come on gradually but the transformation into my mother didn’t involve itchiness or the urge to pee myself.

Either way, I noticed the changes slowly.

Uttering a cheesy phrase under my breath was the first sign.

Want an example?  Well, you’re getting one.

When watching an episode of Law & Order: SVU, the opening credits indicated one of the actors was named B.D. Wong.

Without even thinking, I yelled out “He B.D. Wong guy for the job!”

Is that joke hilarious?  Of course it is, which is why I began cracking up immediately after I said it.

But then I looked around the room and saw the expressions I knew so well; the eye rolls, the moaning in irritation.

I know them because that’s my standard response to my mother’s jokes that aren’t really that punny.  (Ha!  Punny!  I’m on a roll!)

drugsSimple enough.  I figured it was just one instance of bad joke-telling.  If Seth McFarlane can do it, so can I.

But then it moved onto conspiracy theories.  That’s when I started to notice I may need to seek help.

Was the government trying to take over my life by taxing me to death?  Obviously, as evidenced by this year’s tax return.

Did my office have a secret stash of cookies my coworkers hide from me because they know I’d eat them if I knew about them?  Probably.

But let’s face it; that’s probably a good idea on their part.

One thing I do know for sure, though, is that YES, all the kids really are on drugs these days.  Every. Single. One. Of. Them.

As if these small tendencies creeping into my life weren’t enough, another symptom appeared that made it far more real.  The humming started.  That’s when I knew it was serious.

girl singing with microphoneIt was one thing to believe every kid over the age of 14 was a heroin junkee.  (I blame “the MTV” and the video games.)

But it’s quite another to hum songs loudly in public. Worst of all?  I found myself trying to hum the harmony.


Now it’s just snowballing.  I find myself drawn to sparkly things that most people, and Lisa from 5 years ago, would have found gaudy.  But now, a part of me thinks “That’s kind of pretty.  Look at it sparkle.”

For some reason, my taste in glittery things has skyrocketed and there’s no way to stop it.  Why would I buy a pair of plain glasses when I could get a pair with rhinestones blinged out on the sides?

I wouldn’t.

I guess they say that acceptance is the first step.  I’m not sure if I’m there yet, but I suppose I’m on the road to that destination, not paying attention and sideswiping vehicles as I go.

sparkleMaybe it’s not so bad.

After all, my mom isn’t that far away from the senior citizen discount, and I love saving money.

Plus, the sparkly tops and glittery glasses will make it easier for people to find me when I inevitably fall down or get lost on the street looking for my car.

Back CameraI’ve always loved dogs.  Kids?  Not so much.

Don’t get me wrong, my niece is the greatest thing in the world.  She’s also a genius.  But other than her, I could take or leave most kids.

**NOTE:  Just to be clear, I wouldn’t actually take a kid.  “I could take or leave it” is a saying. It’s not meant literally.  

If some kid goes missing, I don’t want to be a suspect because one of you read my blog and wanted to get back at me for the belly dancer post.  (Yes, people are still mad about it.)**

People always talk to me about their kids.  I don’t know if it’s because my “fluffy” stomach looks like I recently pushed out a love nugget, or if the constant stains on my clothes suggest I have a toddler at home who can’t feed herself.

For whatever reason, people tell me stories about their kids,complete with photos and stories ranging from Lizzie’s first poopy in the potty to Joey’s first accidental curse word.

Isn’t it so funny?”  They’ll say.  “He tried to say ‘ship’ and he said ‘shit.’  Get it?”

Yes, I get it.  It’s not cute, mostly because Joey has a lisp and needs to see a speech therapist and Lizzie is 7.  That’s NOT an impressive poopy.

Photo credit: Teller Photography, Lynn Teller

Photo credit:
Teller Photography,
Lynn Teller

In response to people showing me photos of their spawns, I try to show photos of my dogs, but I don’t get an excited reaction.  Is that fair?  Of course not.

The favor should be reciprocated.

I can assure you, I don’t want to stare at 15 photos of your baby doing the exact same fricking thing in every photo.

She’s asleep.  I get it.  She drools.  Noted.

Now look at this photo of my dog chasing his tail.

I’ve decided it’s time to make a list of reasons why my dog is better than your kid.  You knew it was coming.

1.  My dogs are cuter.

Photo credit: Teller Photography Lynn Teller

Photo credit:
Teller Photography
Lynn Teller

Look at that face.  For reals.  How can you say no to this fuzzy face?  Answer:  You can’t…unless you’re heartless…or blind…like seriously blind.

2.  They don’t eat dirt (most of the time).

Max carI know the real reason you don’t have living houseplants in your home, and it isn’t because you don’t have a “green thumb.”

It’s because little Jimmy has a “brown mouth” because he’s constantly shoving fistfulls of dirt into it.

It’s okay.  I won’t judge.  He’s obviously going to be a tree hugger when he gets older.  He’s just starting a little lower…like at the roots.

3.  My dogs are potty trained (most of the time).

Shady Jack close upI don’t have to change diapers or constantly smell my dog’s genitals to see if they’re sitting in their own feces.

They know to go to the door and whine to go out.  Now, whether I hear the whining or not, is another issue entirely.

But at least they know to do with cast

4.  Their whining can be stopped with a Milkbone.

This is true most of the time.  Sometimes it’s a combination of a Milkbone, a bag of Beggin’ Strips and a peanut butter filled Kong that does the trick.

Either way, it’s a lot easier to quiet my whining dog than it is to quiet your whining baby.  My dog’s breath also smells better.

5.  They’re neutered.


Photo Credit:
Teller Photography
Lynn Teller

Since I had their balls removed, I no longer worry about seeing that red rocket come out at uncomfortable times.  (If only the same was true of my husband.)

I don’t worry about the dreaded red lipstick coming out when guests are over.  I also don’t have to wonder why the sheets are crusty, or why they’ve locked themselves in the bathroom for an hour.

6.  They don’t have body hair in strange places.

Back CameraMostly because they have it everywhere, but I would prefer it everywhere than in uncomfortable locations.

Your son’s two armpit pubes are creeping me out, and so is his “muscle shirt” that looks remarkably like a girl’s tank top.

The glitter isn’t helping.

7.  They hump less than your kids do.

Your little angel Christina? She’s hooching it up on the weekends with her sasssy top and skirt that shows her hoo-ha when she sits down.

Since I’ve had my the reproductive organs removed from my babies, I don’t have to worry about unplanned pregnancies or child supports.

I do, however, still have to worry about STDs.  But then again, so does Christina.

Back Camera8. They don’t require me to pre-plan meals.

They get the same dinner every night without fail, no exceptions.

However, I guess if I had kids, they’d probably get mac and cheese with fish sticks every night for dinner, so maybe this isn’t very compelling.

Wait, mac and cheese and fish sticks are what I eat for dinner every night.

If it’s good enough for me, it’s good enough for the kiddos.

Back Camera

how to write a wedding toastWe’ve all seen it happen:  A train wreck of a marriage, headed down a one-way track to Miseryville, with a small layover at Domestic Violence, USA.

Whether it’s family, friends, or the librarian we’ve befriended in an effort to reverse erroneous late fees, most of us have witnessed the marriage of two people who should probably just honor the restraining orders and keep their distance.

The worst part is when you’re in the wedding party, and asked to give a speech and toast the couple at the reception.

Actually, that’s not the worst part.  The worst part is going with the bride to have warts removed from her bikini line.

It’s hard to know what to say to a couple you neither like nor support.  However, because I’m good to you, my dear readers, and because I’ve been in this situation before, I’ve decided to offer advice on how to write a speech when you don’t care for the couple getting married.

These recommendations are fool-proof and have worked at dozens of weddings over the years.

**DISCLAIMER:  I have no idea if these actually worked, as I was always too drunk to remember.  However, my memories of the times I followed these rules are glorious, so I can only assume this advice is gold.  Isn’t it always?

Focus on yourself.

toasting with drinksIf it’s a traditional wedding, it’s been about them long enough.  From the showers to the bachelorette party to the weekend wedding festivities, it’s time to remind them they aren’t special.

After all, they’re just like everyone else, and after their wedding day, no one will care about their love, or about the lame Christmas ornament they gave as a wedding favor.

(Side note:  What’s the deal with giving Christmas ornaments as a wedding favor?  Because every year people want to commemorate the day you two a-holes got married and had a party where only bottom shelf liquor was served? Yeah, right.  Dumbest. Gift. Ever.)

Get over yourself, Mr. and Mrs.  It’s time to talk about someone else.

This tactic is a sure-fire way to make the night less awkward.

Spill some secrets, but don’t spill your drink.

girls and secretNow is the time to force the couple to come clean of their dirty secrets.

How can they start a life together of subpar happiness if they don’t get all of their secrets out on the table?

Please note you can literally put their secrets out on the table.

This is the perfect time to present any evidence you have of those things they’d rather keep hidden forever.

If only Great Aunt Bessie believed in keeping things hidden forever, we wouldn’t have to stare at her liver-spotted breasts the entire evening.

The maid of honor/best man speech is the time to inform the bride and groom of things they may not know about each other, or about what the other has done.

shIf you ever made out with the bride or groom (or both), this is the time to discuss it in detail.  It clears the air so the couple can start off their marriage on the right foot.

Hopefully that foot won’t be up your ass.

Maybe it’s a more private secret one of them doesn’t want revealed.  For instance, does the bride have a drinking problem,  downing bottles of mouthwash to hide her addiction while simultaneously getting buzzed and freshening her breath?  Now’s the time to point that out.

How is the couple going to grow together if you don’t let these things out in the open?

FYI:  Pictures help your credibility, so make sure you have those ready for documentation purposes.

Expose the flaws of the couple.

microphonesIf they’re going to spend their lives together, they need to know their flaws as a couple.  This will prevent issues and problems arising down the road in their marriage.

Do you really want to waste all the money you spent on a hideous bridesmaid dress, a bachelorette party at Worlds of Fun and the sah-weet blender you bought them?

(Well, you could take the blender back but the third-degree burn scar from the malfunctioning roller coaster at Worlds of Fun will be with you forever.)

The reception speech is the best time to bring up the couple’s sexual incompatibility.  From his obsession of incorporating choo choo trains into their love-making, to her requirement she violate him with a spatula, now is the time to talk through these issues.  It’s best to do it out in the open.

Ironically, out in the open is their favorite place for coitus.  Again, something to discuss.

NOTE:  Only expose flaws of the couple.  DO NOT expose yourself.  That comes at the afterparty.

Use vulgarity

guy with glasses shockedIt may be awkward at first, but the audience will come around.  They always come around.

If not, lay on the profanity harder.  It’s a guaranteed charmer.

Vulgarity always works.  It f*cking always works.


Get the crowd involved

crowdYou don’t have to crowd surf, but make the audience feel like they’re part of it.

Send the microphone around the room to the drunkest of guests, and ask for their words of wisdom.

This always stimulates conversation.

It also always sparks a fist fight of some sort, which is just another way to make the reception memorable.

If not, there’s always the police reports to document the assaults and good cheer.

I guess that’s all I have for now.  I could give more tips but I doubt you want the speech to go on for longer than 25 minutes.

Anything longer than that is just annoying.  Anything less than that is a slap in the face to the couple.

Which reminds me, slapping the couple in the face is a good icebreaker and a great way to start your speech.



Doesn't it look a little like a butt crack behind those hands?

Doesn’t it look a little like a butt crack behind those hands?

Today is Earth Day and I have absolutely no idea what to write about.

I know I should talk about saving the Earth, blah blah blah, but I don’t know what to say except the following:


Don’t be a d-bag and litter

and then recycle again.

I need you peeps to recycle.  Got it?

And that’s where I am on Earth Day.  So I’ve decided to expand my take on Earth Day and talk about being green.

I figured I would talk about the first thing that comes to mind when I think of green.  It’s Kermit the Frog, of course.

Then I wasn’t sure what I would say about Kermit other than he’s a sexy beast who looks good with or without clothing.

It’s a feat few attain, yet Kermit is the epitome of nudity.  Can any of his fellow Muppets pull off the totally nude look?  Of course not.

Rowlf the Dog

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Okay, so maybe Rowlf the Dog is naked, but he always has that piano at waist level, which tells me he’s insecure about something.  I suspect I know what it is…

He’s not neutered, of course.  Geez.  You guys are such pervs.

<insert public service message about spaying/neutering your animals or I will cut your balls off.>

Where is this post going?  Good question.

If you’re still reading and haven’t gone to PBS to watch Sesame Street, then I will tell you where this post is headed.

To the gutter.  Or actually, to the streets.  Follow my logic.

For some reason, in thinking about Kermit, I began to wonder if Kermit was a lover or a fighter.  He always pushes away Miss Piggy’s advances, which suggests he may be a fighter.

Which begs the question: Who would win if Kermit got into a fight with Elmo?

I’m not talking about one of those “You took the last fruit roll-up so I’m going to kick you in the shins and run away” fights.  I’m talking about a true fight.  With biting and crap.  Who would win?

That frisky frog is one good looking dude, but is he scrappy?  He seems like such a nice guy, and he does let Miss Piggy walk all over him.

Okay, she doesn’t literally walk all over him, as that would most certainly crush his rib cage…unless he’s into that sort of thing.

Wait, a frog doesn’t have ribs.  Plus for Kermie!


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But what about his physical prowess?  He has scrawny arms, but is he strong?  Does he work his core, or only his glamour muscles?

He might be an underrated opponent just because of his size, yet he could bench press like a sonofabitch.

I’ve seen it done.  Not by an amphibian, but by scrawny guys at the gym whose moms drop them off after swim practice.

But then there’s Elmo.  I don’t know what species he is, other than a creeper who talks like a child despite the fact he frequently wears suits.

I think he’s supposed to be a monster of some sort, but I don’t know any monsters who giggle like school girls.

Photo credit: http://muppet.wikia. com/wiki/Elmo

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Come to think of it, maybe he’s neutered, and that’s why he has such a high-pitched voice.

That could be a point in his corner for overpowering Kermit, as he wouldn’t have his manly monster parts to get in the way of a smackdown.

Instead of making you read my word vomit, which is clearly what this post is, I’ve decided to make a tally of things each opponent has going for and against him.

You’re welcome.

Kermit Pros

Elmo Pros

  • No ribs, so he’s harder to injure
  • Sticky tongue to trap victims
  • Has a fat girlfriend to fight his battles


  • No genitals, so a kick in the balls does nothing
  • He looks like a biter
  • Has no friends, which suggests he’s crazy and has nothing to lose.

Kermit Cons

Elmo Cons

  • Hibernates for winter, which demonstrates he’s a pussy.
  • Needs to keep skin wet to stay alive (I’m  not sure how this affects his felt skin)
  • Has sworn enemies that could assist opponent in battle, like snakes and fish
  • Can’t grasp the basic concept of the first person, which shows he’s stupid.
  • Has furry red skin that could easily be pulled like hair.
  • He’s tickelish.  He’s fricking tickelish, people!


So there you have it:  my thoughts on the pros and cons of who would win in a fight on Sesame Street.  I’m not sure, and I suppose I will leave it up to you to decide who would prevail in this matchup of Muppets.

Let me know your thoughts, and if I can figure out how to do a little chart of answers, I will.  And by “I” I mean if someone else can figure that out. We all know I can’t figure that out.  If I could, I would have done it already.

So let me know who you think would win, and your thoughts on why. This is a very important topic, especially on Earth Day.

boxing gloves on wall

David HasselhoffYeah, like I really need to explain why this guy makes me jealous.  Look at those flowing locks.

However, just because I know you’re curious to get inside my head, I’ll let you know why my jealousy is so strong for the Hoff.

1.  He can wear a jacket with lights on it.

Hoff in jacket at Berlin Wall

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Only the Hoff can pull off wearing a jacket that lights up.

Did he worry about rain coming down to electrocute him and his pleather coat?  Of course not, because The Hoff wouldn’t get electrocuted.

If anything, the extra jolts would simply revive him with energy.

He welcomed electrocution while rocking his ablaze blazer.

And did I mention he wore this coat on the fricking BERLIN WALL?!

Ronald Reagan told Gorbachev to “Tear down this wall,” but only The Hoff could bring it to its knees with an electric voice (and an electric coat).

2.  He made a video eating a burger while drunk and he’s still cool.

Hoff eating burger

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So, this guy can make a video doing everything but engaging in coitus with a hamburger in a bathtub, and it’s not big deal.

He gets not much more than some gentle joshing and a spokesperson contract for the third-rate fast food company, Bathroom Burgers.

Extra napkins are just a roll of toilet paper!

But just once, I eat an entire cheesecake on Thanksgiving and all of a sudden it’s “Lisa can’t control her portions” and “How is she not diabetic?”

He probably got away with this because he’s German, and so are hamburgers.

3.  He has a sweet ride.

Hoff and kitt

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A car that talks? Awesome.

Maybe if I had one of those I wouldn’t get lost all the time.

Come to think of it, maybe KITT was the one who had the map to stardom, and The Hoff just rode him to the top, and then dumped him at the nearest salvage lot.

Isn’t that the same thing that happened to Kim Kardashian and Ray J?

4.  He looks good in short shorts.

Hoff in shorts

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Who can disagree with this?  Look at those thighs.  I’d kill to have legs that looked like that.

I’d even take the leg hair with it, which isn’t a big deal, as I’ve got a similar amount now.

It’s been a long winter.  Don’t judge.

5.  He trained with Patsy Swayze.

Yeah, that’s right.  The Hoff learned his sweet dance moves from the woman who gave birth to the King of Kicks.

It’s a little known fact that the  lyrics to Patrick Swayze’s song “She’s Like the Wind” were actually inspired by watching the Hoff leap across the room in tights and a sports bra.

It’s a little known fact, mostly because I just made it up, but it sounds like it could happen.

He really did train with Patsy Swayze, though.

6.  He’s hooked on a feeling.

hooked on a feeling frozen

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What that feeling is, I’m not sure, but he sang about it, and you can’t deny the passion in that performance.

His rendition of this song sold dozens of copies, and will be remembered by approximately half of those who made the drunken midnight internet purchase.

Perhaps The Hoff is confused, and he’s actually hooked on the green screen, as that’s the only conclusion one can come to after watching the video.

If you haven’t watched it, what’s wrong with you? It has everything from girls in nightgowns flying through the air, to Hoff on a mountain, to Hoff in Africa, to Hoff dressed like Chewbaca.  Who couldn’t be hooked on this?

Watch it. Watch it now.

Even after watching that video repeatedly, I’m surprised every time he catches that fish while wearing a fur coat and flying across the ocean on a surf board.  If that doesn’t explain why I’m jealous of The Hoff, nothing will.

What it doesn’t explain is why The Hoff would be near a stream dressed like Crocodile Dundee, dancing while two wiener dogs drink dirty stream water, and two girls in white nightgowns flap their wings above.

Nevermind.  It totally explains it.

winning girlI recently started participating in a few blog hops.  Don’t worry.  Although the word “hop” is in it, there is NO physical activity required.  I wouldn’t participate otherwise!

It’s basically where you go to different blogs and include your information, and others do the same, and you all read each other’s blogs.

Ew, that sounds incestuous when I say it like that.  I will clarify that everyone is clothed.

Wait, I don’t know that as we are all at home on our computers.  I’d like to speak for me and say I’m fully clothed, but I don’t want to lie to my readers.

trophy in handsThe blog hop I did last weekend had a component where a favorite blog/post was picked.  I’m not sure how voting was done, and how a winner was selected, but I’m confident it was a long and arduous process with lots of tears.

I’m also fairly certain the winning post was picked based upon one’s ability to down an entire pizza in one setting.

Once again, I’m a winner!

So go check out the page of the host of the blog hop.  She’s obviously brilliant if she chose my blog as her favorite.

Either that, or her dart just landed on my face, and that’s how a winner was chosen.  Sadly, it’s not the first time my face has been on a dart board.

wondering brain