Isn't he cute?

Isn’t he cute?

My husband and I recently decided to test the bounds of our relationship:  We took on a home improvement project.

When we bought our house, the guest bedroom was a shade of baby blue that no baby has ever been able to successfully rock.

Unfortunately, we were too tired from bossing the moving men around to paint the room back then, but we figured we’d get to it later.

***Enter five years later***

A few weeks ago we decided to take on this painting project.

Maybe we were incapacitated, or maybe we were just stupid, but either way, we decided to paint the room and roll the dice on if our marriage would survive.

Cleaning before painting.  Even though paint wasn't opened at this point, it was still crucial he wore the HazMat suit.

Cleaning before painting. Even though paint hasn’t been opened at this point, it’s crucial to wear the HazMat suit.

SIDE NOTE:  Home Depot and Lowe’s should add a complimentary divorce kit to any home improvement project purchase over $200.  It would be an excellent service to their customers.

Fortunately, our marriage (and our walls) survived painting and redoing our bedroom.

Of course, my husband said a few funny things throughout the day that helped get me through.

Smelling paint thinner also helped.


Idea Man

The kids are using Pinterest these days.  They tell me there’s good stuff on there.”


Pin it!

Inspirational Speaker

We haven’t made any mistake that can’t be fixed.”


Well, that can’t be fixed!

Doesn't it look like he's not wearing shorts under his painting suit?  He is, but still...

Doesn’t it look like he’s not wearing shorts under his painting suit? He is, but still…

The Musician

Lisa:  “I have California Girls in my head.”

Matt:  “Crap.  Now I do too. Wait, which one?  Katy Perry or the Beach Boys version?  I want to be on the same page.”

The Martyr

Matt:  “I’m tired and hungry.”

Lisa:  “Poor baby.  How do you do it?  How do you forge ahead when things are this difficult?

Matt:  “One day at a time…<sighs and hold head down> One day at a time…

Wealth of Knowledge

Matt:  “There was an interesting article the other day about how people are able to walk across hot coals.”

Lisa:  “How do they do it?

Matt:  “I don’t know.  I didn’t read the article.”

The Fashionista

Lisa:  “You can’t wear your Chuck Taylors while you paint.”

Matt:  “I can wear my Chuck Taylors and do anything.”

Can you believe he chose the Chuck Taylor's that most closely matched his outfit?

Can you believe he chose the Chuck Taylor’s that most closely matched his outfit?

photo credit: oxygeon via photopin cc

photo credit: oxygeon via photopin cc

I’m published today over at In The Powder Room because for some reason they let me continue to write for them.  I have no idea why, but don’t knock it.

Today’s post is about the various reasons why Facebook is better than class reunions.  Yes, it’s awesome and yes, you should read it now.

Go there.  Do it.


arrows up

We’ve all seen it by now; Miley Cyrus’s train wreck performance.

What’s that you say?  Which train wreck performance?

Good question.  Sorry I wasn’t more clear.

For purposes of this post, I’m referring to her performance at the 2013 MTV Music Video Awards.  I’m being quite generous with the term “perform.”  If she “performed” at these awards, then I “perform” a culinary masterpiece each night when I microwave frozen dinners and cover them with ketchup.

Because I’m super supportive, I’ve decided to write a few pointers for sweet and innocent Miley so she can learn from this experience and rise to her full potential…doing low grade porn.

1.  Look at yourself in the mirror before you make faces in public

Penises all over the world shriveled when she did this move.

Penises all over the world shriveled when she did this move.

This is NOT attractive.  Nothing about this is attractive.  I can’t imagine how you thought you were being sexy by doing this face.  Then again, I can’t imagine you thought your putting your hair into points to look like alien antennae was a good idea either.

2.  Please don’t take beauty advice from Amanda Bynes

The bra and underwear look doesn't work unless you have a bitchin' wig.

The bra and underwear look doesn’t work unless you have a bitchin’ wig.

I can only assume by your appearance that you conferred with your bestie, Amanda Bynes, about hair and makeup choices.  I’m shocked you were able to reach her while she is seeking psychiatric treatment, but I guess Amanda is just a loyal friend that way.

Either way, your choice of hair and make up was not your best.  Perhaps you should borrow one of Byne-Byne’s wigs and cover yourself.

3.  Don’t forget you have a vagina (or so it’s alleged)

What does she think she's grabbing?

What does she think she’s grabbing?

I’m not sure why you continually felt the need to grab your crotch and thrust it forward like a man would do with his balls.  Perhaps it’s from years of watching your father in skin tight jeans boot-scoot-boogy himself into the pants of women everywhere.

Fortunately, those restrictive pants lowered daddy’s sperm count so only a few spawns emerged.  It’s how the universe stayed balanced, and for that, we’re grateful.

However, thrusting your pelvis while grabbing your crotch is not something classy women typically do.  Leave that to the pros.  I believe Madonna has the market on that.

4. You have identity issues

In case you wondered what a bear's vagina looked like...

In case you wondered what a bear’s vagina looked like…

Forget the Miley Cyrus/Hannah Montana confusion, your identity issues span to different species.  You are not a bear, despite emerging on stage from a teddy bear’s vagina.  Wearing a leotard with a bear’s face on it does not make you a bear.  If everyone turned into what they wear, I would be Jimmy Buffet’s Margaritaville covered in peanut butter.

A girl can dream.

5.  If you’re going to lip sync, try to keep up with the words

You can hear the talent through this photo, can't you?

You can hear the talent through this photo, can’t you?

Might I suggest watching a few Milli Vanilli videos?  They were pros and their music was a lot better than yours.  If you’re looking for what not to do, check out Ashley Simpson’s performance on SNL.  Actually, just google Ashley Simpson and take it from there.

6.  The teddy bear backpack/purses from the 90s are not coming back

Now that's a backpack you could put some stuff in!

Now that’s a backpack you could put some stuff in!

Believe me, I wish they were.  Nothing says sophistication quite like a child’s toy stuffed with lip gloss and then strapped to your back.  Sadly, I’ve had no luck bringing back this trend, and putting life-sized stuffed bears on the backs of others isn’t going to help the cause.

7.  Read your audience



Maybe you don’t actually know how to read.  I wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case, as you clearly didn’t read the reviews of your last album.  Either way, please learn how to know when your audience is bored.

Take a moment to stop humping whatever is nearby, and actually look at the faces of those you are supposed to be entertaining.

If you’re still confused, use this handy rule of thumb:  If you’re singing, dancing, or talking, your audience is bored.

This one makes me happy for so many reasons.

This one makes me happy for so many reasons.
(1) Boy band members? Check.
(2) Guy in background wearing oversized glasses? Check.
(3) JC Chasez trying not to laugh? Check.
(4) A photo of a woman in mid-passout of boredom? Check.
(5) Rhianna not being physically assaulted? Check.
(6) Justin Timberlake looking straight into my soul while everyone else looks elsewhere? CHECK! (please!)

And it’s a rule of thumb, not a rule of “giant foam finger that has nothing to do with anything other than to give you something else to hump while on stage.”



That’s it for now, Miley, mostly because my brain has turned to mush after watching your performance too many times.  I can only hope you take my advice so we can all avoid these incidents in the future.

Come to think of it, it’s more entertaining if you ignore my advice completely.  You obviously ignored the advice of your stylist.

P.S.  I can see your underwear.



ambushed.jpg<<<<<<<I’m re-posting this one, as it happened over Christmas, but it’s one of my all-time favorite stories, and it’s such a funny memory.  I think you will enjoy, assuming you like pubes humor.

If you don’t like humor about pubes, you probably shouldn’t be reading this blog anyway…


Beautiful, right?

Beautiful, right?

Yes, I realize that brilliant graphic above and the title of this post isn’t how you spell “ambushed.”  I was trying to give you a hint as to what this blog post would be about, and I wanted to do it creatively, because I’m awesome that way.

Hopefully you can look past the spelling and look to the hilarity of the story.  You should, because the story is amaze-balls.

And before we go any further, how awesome is my drawing for this one?  I did it on Paint and it only took me an hour.  I’m so talented.

Every year, Matt and I go to Mexico to celebrate the Christmas holiday.  By “celebrate” we mean we lay in the sun all day, drink fruity drinks, and occasionally look at each other and say “Oh crap, its Christmas!  I totally forgot!”

We don’t go to Mexico because we don’t like Christmas; we just don’t like cold weather, or obligatory functions, or any kind of holiday that requires purchasing gifts.  (If you have a job and/or a bank account, you can buy yourself a gift.  I’m not waiting in line to get you a gift card to Starbucks.  FYI.)

drinks on the beachThis year was no different and we spent the holidays lounging on the beach, silently passing judgment on people as they walked by. (Sometimes not so silently, depending on the quantity and potency of the cocktails.)

We don’t do this to be mean, but mostly just to entertain ourselves, and because there are some seriously freaky people in this world…or at least in Puerto Vallarta over the holidays.

A few days ago I was scanning my surroundings, just taking in the scenery.  Okay, so what I was really doing was looking around for the waiter on the beach to check on the status of my refill of my Bahama mama drink.

He was nowhere to be found (probably/hopefully because he was making me another drink).  Instead of finding the waiter, I found something far better.

A young woman, probably in her early 20s, was walking up the beach from the water.  She was skinny and wearing a tiny bikini.  As I looked at her, I noticed something on her crotch area.  Immediately, I suspected she somehow got seaweed caught on her leg while she was in the ocean.

Because I’m a super caring person (and because I wanted to check on my drink status), I decided to get up  further investigate.  I figured if she had seaweed on her lady parts, she would probably want to know so she could remove it.  It’s the least I could do.

photo credit: jenny downing via photopin cc

photo credit: jenny downing via photopin cc

Oh god, how I wish it was seaweed on the inner parts of her legs.  If only….

As I approached, I realized it wasn’t seaweed, but rather an explosion of pubic hair coming out of her bikini and crawling down her legs.

I say it was crawling because I swear it was alive and quite mobile.  I saw it swaying in the wind and immediately imagined what it would look like when she was in the water.

The movement of it would most likely be confused by a snorkeling 10 year old as a different kind of seaweed.

It looked like it was busting out of her bikini bottom, as if it was trying to escape the constraints of her tiny cotton suit.  I could almost hear it gasping for air, or at least for a good shampoo and conditioner.

Naturally, I alerted my husband immediately.  I feel like this is one of those obligations a wife has to her husband.

In addition to honoring and cherishing, blah blah blah, I think there’s something in the vows about promising to alert your husband at the sighting of out of control bush at a beach.

photo credit: •●pfaff via photopin cc

photo credit: •●pfaff via photopin cc

If it isn’t in the vows, it should be, because that’s the kind of stuff that can break up a marriage otherwise.  I’m a caring wife that way.

Matt’s reaction was similar to mine.  He was horrified and happy, all at the same time.  We were both completely intrigued and decided to try to get a closer look.  Who was this creature who felt so uninhibited as to display her female whiskers.

Also, we wanted to make sure we took our camera to capture a photo of this remarkable sighting.  After all, I’m a journalist and this was just the kind of investigation you, my readers, depend upon.

I failed.  Just FYI so you don’t get all excited about seeing a photo of an untamed bush, and then you get disappointed when you don’t find it.  Part of you knew I would fail because I’m not really that great of a journalist, and I think posting photos of a stranger’s bush might put my blog into a porn category.

I’m not ready for that kind of traffic yet, so for now, you’re going to have to use your imagination.  Plus, this isn’t that kind of blog.  I try to keep it classy, people.

As we got closer to her, we confirmed what we already knew.  It was an overgrown forest between her legs.

No, it wasn’t a forest, it was a goddamn jungle.  Perhaps she wasn’t capable of trimming or removing it because it was just too strong…like maybe it was the Hulk Hogan of pubic hair.  I wondered if it wore a bandanna and called everyone “brother.”


Please note the image is an artist rendering.  It’s not an actual photo.

I could only imagine what kind of sheers would be needed to slay that dragon down south.  Perhaps that’s why it was so out of control.  No razor could tame it.

No blade would step up to the task.  What she needed was Arthur from Disney’s beloved “The Sword in the Stone.”  Perhaps he was the only thing strong enough to tame that mane.

*Of note:  Arthur is also known in the movie as “Wart” which poses an interesting question about whether the massive bush was hiding something more serious…like herpes.  It also demonstrates my uncanny knowledge of Disney movies and characters.

Perhaps the only thing that would knock out a mass of hair that size would be a fire.  But then again, if she used that method, she would have a burning bush, and I don’t think that’s what Moses was talking about in the Bible.  However, he was in the dessert sand, so perhaps there’s some truth to this theory…

We approached cautiously, careful not to alarm it. I couldn’t help but say “It looks like she has two dead animals plastered to the sides of her legs.”

I bet two dead animals would smell better than what she’s got going on down there,” was my humble husband’s response.  I suspect he wasn’t wrong.

Blond Boy Crying

We followed her flowing fringe until “Miss Bush” arrived at her destination.  Unfortunately, it was not the salon for a wax.  Rather, she met up with her “friends” who were lounging on chairs on the beach.  The reason I use the term “friends” so loosely is because anyone who lets another person go out in public with pubic hair like that, is no friend at all.

Am-BUSHEDBut her friends got what they deserved, because she began talking to them while continuing to stand…while they continued to lounge in their chairs.  This provided a front row viewing of the lady mustache she was sporting.  (I just made up that term “lady mustache.”  Let’s make that a thing.)

It was obvious by their faces that her friends were aware of the vagina wig.  (There’s another one! “Vagina wig” is pure gold!  I can’t stop with creating these slang terms!)

But funnier than the faces of her friends staring down the barrel of her beard, was the face of the clearly traumatized 14 year old boy standing nearby.  I’m completely serious.

Matt and I had to stifle our laughter at that poor, tortured soul who was horrified and wanted to look away, but couldn’t find the strength to turn away from the lady sideburns.

(That’s it.  I’m going on the road with this act and all the names I’m making up for a woman’s bush.)

I wanted to comfort the poor lass, and tell him not all women’s genitalia looked like the base player from Guns ‘N’ Roses.  (Slash may have been an ugly dude, but he knew how to stroke that guitar.)

I also wanted to give him this month’s edition of Playboy to show him what classy pubic hair look like, but Matt left it on the plane for an uncomfortable stewardess to find.  (He finds this prank hilarious.  He also likes to whip it out in the middle of the flight and make the person next to him extremely uncomfortable.  And I’m talking about whipping out the Playboy magazine, not something else, you perv.)

It was at that point that we decided to go back to our lounge chairs and stop staring at the freak show of frizz.  It was starting to look angry and I swear that thing waved at me as we walked by.

We returned to our lounge chairs stunned and scarred from what we just viewed.  We knew we would never be the same, and for as long as we lived, the Mexico Christmas vacation of 2012 would forever be known to us simply as “Bushapalooza.”  We’re having t-shirts made.

photo credit: Boss Tweed via photopin cc

photo credit: Boss Tweed via photopin cc

By now you’re all sick of the Weiner scandal.  I know I am.  Everywhere I look, Weiner is plastered everywhere, and not just because I live in a house with 3 male dogs and a husband.  (Okay, partially because of that.)

Weinergate is all anyone can talk about, probably because people like to say Weiner.  Hell, I love typing Weiner, which is part of the reason I decided to write a blog post dedicated to Weiner.

Is Weiner a word that’s scandalous in itself?  Apparenty so, at least if the Weiner’s first name is Anthony.

Everyone is getting down on Weiner, and many people don’t like him at all.  I feel bad for Weiner, as I think he’s a product of having his head in the wrong place.

Some say Weiner should grow some balls and accept his actions as at least a 7 on the Dichter Scale, but I’m not so quick to judge.  Although I may not agree with where Weiner inserts himself at times, I’ve learned a thing or two from him.

photo credit: ChrisBailey85 via photopin cc

photo credit: ChrisBailey85 via photopin cc

1.  Having the last name Weiner is awesome.

I never really thought about it before, but having the last name Weiner is truly amaze-balls.  You can be as cocky as you want to be with a name like that.  No one’s going to want to make the Weiner angry.

The only thing that would be better than having the last name Weiner would be having the last name Dicks.  For some reason, that sounds like a last name that lets everyone know the holder of said name is awesome.

2.  Make sure the photos of your genitalia are delivered via snail mail.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve randomly tweeted or sent photos of my nether-regions to complete strangers.  Okay, I can tell you, the number of times is zero, mostly because I don’t understand Twitter and my email has been blocked by many of you.

Regardless, the take away lesson from Weinersville is that if you’re going to send photos of your middle-aged junk, send it via US mail.  That way someone gets a package with a photo of your package, and you keep government jobs going.  Win-Win.

JUST A WEINER AND HIS BALL. photo credit: mich&pics via photopin cc

photo credit: mich&pics via photopin cc

3.  If you get caught doing something bad, just keep doing it.

What are the chances of getting caught a second time for doing the exact same thing?  Sure, Weiner sent photos of his mini-Weiner in 2010, but why not try again in 2013 with another round of sausagefest?

Who would think he’d get caught again with his pants down with nothing but his…ahem…camera in his hand? Talk about a guy with his Weiner in a vice.

At least he’s learned something from this second round:  He’s upgraded to a higher resolution camera.  If he didn’t at least do that, it would be a real dick-move on his part.

HOW THE WEINER GETS AROUND.  AND OH, HOW HE GETS AROUND. photo credit: bijoubaby via photopin cc

HOW THE WEINER GETS AROUND. AND OH, HOW HE GETS AROUND. photo credit: bijoubaby via photopin cc

4.  If you’re going to engage in the same activity again, use an alias.

Weiner couldn’t resist sending dick pics again in 2013, but that time he started thinking with his other head.  He decided to send them under an alias.  What was his alias?  Carlos Danger.

I’m not kidding.  Perhaps he thought no one would figure out his secret identity, and even the best private dic wouldn’t be able to break through.  He thought his disguise wasn’t capable of being penetrated.  He was wrong.

Maybe he should stick to Danger as his middle name.

5.  Weiner may argue he has “Keys to the City” but he needs a different set of keys.

photo credit: kevin dooley via photopin cc

photo credit: kevin dooley via photopin cc

Weiner’s campaign says he has the “Keys to the City.”  I’m not sure if that’s true, but he definitely should get a security key for wireless internet.  Maybe then he wouldn’t get bent over by the American people.

Perhaps the most important set of keys he needs is the keys to his bedroom.  He should find them, go in there, and lock the door.  Forever.

6.  No one likes a dirty Weiner.

Everyone wants to believe Weiner is clean, but his actions say otherwise.  It’s hard for Weiner to cleanse his reputation when he’s been dirty for so long.  Can a dirty Weiner come clean?  Not according to what I heard from the guys in the Sigma Chi house in college.

Like him or hate him, one thing’s for certain; his actions aroused attention, which is what politics is all about. Should this be a private matter?  I’m not sure, but it’s certainly a sensitive area.

If you ask me though, his strategy is a pure stroke of genius.

Ulta-BeautyI guess I really spilled the beans in the title of this blog post, so you pretty much know my big news.  I guess it’s also not surprising that I spilled the beans, as I spill pretty much everything.

It’s also probably not surprising that I referred to beans in this post, what with all my fiber issues and such…


I went to BlogHer 2013 in Chicago a few weeks ago and had a blast.  For those of you who don’t know blog-speak, BlogHer is a national convention with over 5,000 bloggers and tons of free shit.

I’m serious.  There is literally lots and lots of free shit, including vibrators and lube.

I’m not kidding.

ULTA Beauty was a sponsor of BlogHer, and somehow, the lovely women at the Richards Group Advertising Agency found me and thought I was funny.

I know.  Ree—-dic.

They had me shoot a little video, which I thought was just for fun, so I agreed. (I’m sure that’s what Farrah Abraham said about the sex video too…just for fun.) I figured they wanted the video for the sole purpose of laughing at me and making fun of my inability to use eyeliner.  They wouldn’t be wrong if that was their reason.

Apparently they liked my video and showed it to Wendi McLendon-Covey who thought I was funny.  Allow me to say that again, people, WENDI-MCLENDON-COVEY THOUGHT I WAS FUNNY!

Obviously she pitied me and my inability to use eyeliner.

You know who she is. She was the busty cop on Reno 911 and the sex-crazed mother in Bridesmaids who complained about her semen-infested home.


Courtesy of Universal Pictures

Since she loved me and wanted to become my best friend thought I was funny, ULTA asked me to interview Wendi for their ULTA Beauty LOL marketing campaign, which is all about embarrassing beauty moments.  Naturally, I’m the perfect person to talk about embarrassing moments, so it was a perfect fit.  I know nothing about beauty, but I guess they figured I could wing it.

I met Wendi and did an interview with her, which was fun and exciting.  There were sound guys and cameras and a boom mic and everything, so you know it was legit.  THERE WAS A BOOM MIC, PEOPLE!  That’s the big time.

My interview was edited down to a 30 second clip that will be used for ULTA’s social media for their Beauty LOL campaign.  Cool, huh?  It’s a good thing they edited it because in our conversation we discussed key parties and having a stroke.  I’m not kidding.

It’s hard to believe she’s even funnier and more beautiful in real life than she is on camera, but she is.  She’s in a new show this fall called The Goldbergs.  It’s about a family in the 80s, so you know it will be hilarious.

For now, I hope my video with Wendi and ULTA will hold you over.  Please feel free to share this and splatter me all over the internet.  This is the one video I’m actually happy to share, and one that won’t result in indecency charges being filed against me.

DISCLAIMER:  I know I look horrible in this video.  They say the camera adds 10 pounds but I’m pretty sure the camera they used added at least 100 pounds.  


How to make an ugly christmas sweaterRecently I attended a Christmas in July charity fundraiser.  I didn’t attend so much because I’m charitable, but because I love getting gifts, and I assumed the fundraiser would include door prizes and auction items.

*On a side note, anyone who says “Giving is more fun than receiving” has never received a gift certificate for a day at the spa.  To those people who think it’s more fun to give than receive, feel free to give me as many gifts as you’d like if it makes you feel better.*

After all, I’m quite charitable.

As part of this event’s festivities, there was a contest for the ugliest Christmas sweater/t-shirt.  I’m competitive so I took this contest seriously.

I wanted to win and shove it in the faces of all the other participants so they would know I was the winner and far superior.

You know, all in good fun of course…

I knew I couldn’t construct an ugly Christmas shirt alone, so I called for reinforcements to make something amazing the night before the event. Downtown Christy Brown couldn’t help because she already had plans.

Obviously she didn’t care about charity.

Fortunately, my friend The Great Ape (not her real name) was kind enough to join me in my mission.

We sat down and sketched out our vision like designers on Project Runway.  We came up with our idea to turn me into a Christmas mantle with a stocking hanging from it.  I know, it’s a brilliant idea, which we came up with while I repeatedly yelled “Make it work” in my best Tim Gunn impression.

We headed to a thrift store to get what we needed, which is an entirely different post for a different day.  For reals.  We saw some disturbing things.

Here’s what we purchased for my award-winning design:

photo (87)

Yes, that’s a basket shoved inside a stuffed animal.  I can’t tell if the basket is violating the snowman or if the snowman ate the basket.

stewartMy first act was to decapitate the snowman.  I didn’t want to do it, but peer pressure is a bitch and The Great Ape threatened to do it with a guillotine if I didn’t act quickly.  Not only did I not want the snowman to die like Marie Antoinette, I also didn’t want to know how The Great Ape would fashion a guillotine out of things from my kitchen.

However, I’d seen her work making artificial chimpanzee vaginas, so I didn’t question her creativity skills.

I stepped up to the snowman, avoiding eye contact.  I named him Stewart, and I didn’t want him to know I’d purchased him solely to brutally murder him so I could win a gift card.

photo (89)I held my breath, took the scissors and began to cut, apologizing to Stewart along the way, pointing out he’s lucky he survived as long as he did, what with a basket shoved up his ass and all.

He hung on for a while, making it all the more difficult.  I’m not sure why I didn’t expect him to be a fighter.  He was a snowman who managed to stay alive during 100 degree temperatures in the July heat.

Combine that with the painful hemorrhoids he must have been experiencing from the basket in the ass, and Stewart was nothing but a warrior.

A wounded warrior, but a warrior nonetheless.

As I decapitated Stewart, all the while telling him it was for the greater good, I looked over to find Shady Jack staring in horror.  He loves his stuffed toys and always has one in his mouth.  I didn’t intend for him to see my dirty work, but he walked in just as I began cutting and there was no turning back.

I could practically hear his gasp and although I can’t be sure, I think I saw a tear run down his face.

photo (90)Stewart finally succumbed to the wrath of the kitchen scissors, and The Great Ape got to work quickly sewing his neck shut while I washed the proverbial blood off my hands.  It wasn’t so much blood from Stewart as it was blood from nicking my finger with the scissors.

It was Stewart’s final attempt at life and I didn’t blame him for it.

R.I.P. sweet snowman.

We worked a few more hours sewing and gluing until we had our masterpiece.  We held it up and heard the angels sing as the dining room chandelier shone down on our finished work.  Stewart would have been proud, had he lived to see the final result.

photo (91)It was a bitchin’ shirt if I do say so myself, and I do say so.  Duh.  Obviously, I won the competition, and since it was a charity event, I got to pose for a photo with one of the representatives from the charity.  The photo will be be in their newsletter, which will no doubt increase donations in Stewart’s name.

Despite my win, I couldn’t help but feel a little regret for sweet Stewart, who gave his life so I could win a gift card. I got over it pretty quickly and drowned my sorrows in a snow cone I purchased with my winnings.

Stewart would have wanted it that way.


Yes, you read that right!  I’m now a published author, and have a piece in the book, “You Have Lipstick on Your Teeth’ And Other Things You’ll Only Hear From Your Friends In The Powder Room which was released today.

Obviously, since I’m in it, you know the quality is top notch, and the other writers are equally hilarious. Honestly, I have no idea how I was asked to write for this book, but I’m not going to knock it.

I suspect they really wanted to ask Lisa Lampanelli instead, and just confused email addresses.

Whatever the reason, I’ll take it!  I just hope they don’t realize Lisa Lampanelli isn’t in this book.

So please, oh please, check out this book, and by “check out this book” I mean buy it.  Don’t check it out at the library, as that’s lame.  I mean, who uses libraries anymore?  Okay, lots of people do, but whatever.


It’s available for Kindle and in paperback, and I believe more options will be released soon.

Please note one of the other options coming soon is not for me to come to your house and read it to you personally, although that could be an option if you pay me in cupcakes and Chipotle gift cards.

Lipstick photoIf you’re interested in the exciting possibility of a live reading, please contact my agent at Sure, that looks like it’s just my email address to my blog, but my super important agent checks it from there as she likes to keep a low profile.

Okay, my agent is me, but whatever.

Seriously.  Please buy the book and tell everyone you know to buy it too. Perhaps you should just buy a bulk order and send it to everyone you know. I can guarantee you will laugh.

Come to think of it, you should buy a package of Depends when you buy the book because you’ll probably pee your pants with laughter (especially if you’ve had children and the resulting loss of bladder control that’s a side-effect of giving birth.)

I will stop babbling now because you’re going to go buy the book.  It’s currently in the top 50 on the Amazon Best Seller List for Humor, so obviously lots of other people love it too.

Either that, or my mom is taking out a second mortgage to purchase all the books she can.  Either/Or.  Just buy it.


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**On a serious note, thank you to every one of you who read this blog.  I couldn’t do this without your support and I’m so grateful for each of you.  Although I know many of you, there are many I don’t know, which is perhaps the coolest part of all of this.  You all make me believe it’s possible to achieve my dream of becoming a humor writer.  THANK YOU!**



Source:  Kobi Levi

Source: Kobi Levi

It’s no surprise I’m a dog lover.  The dog hair on my clothes and the faint smell of urine give that away fairly easily.

Yeah…the  urine smell is from the dogs…

Recently, one of my fellow dog-lovers shared a photo with me that I felt compelled to share with you.  Fortunately, my friend isn’t Anthony Weiner, so I can share the photo here instead of burying it in the back of my mind and seeking therapy immediately.

(Really Weiner?  You send dick pics and your name is Weiner?  If it wasn’t disgusting it could actually be kind of awesome.)

Okay, enough with the Weiner talk.  (That’s what she said.)

Seriously, guys.  Focus.

Here’s the non-perverted photo my friend shared with me.  Can you believe it? They’re shoes by designer Kobi Levi that look like a dog.

Sure, the dog is headless, but let’s not get too judgy about the accuracy of the shoes and why this is a headless hound.  I have way too many other things to be judgey about with these shoes.

Let’s get started.

How long can this one hold the downward dog position?

First thing’s first, where do I get these fine furry friends?  Do I have to adopt them from a shelter or will I have to go to a breeder for them?

Quite honestly, they look high end, which suggests a breeder was involved in these sweet kicks.

Either way, these sure give new meaning to the phrase “designer dogs.”

If I adopt them, what do I do when I don’t want them anymore because they pee on the floor and chew up my underwear furniture?  Is my only option to put them down…literally?

Are they up-to-date on shots or do I have to pay for that separately?

What kind of care do these puppy pumps require?  Is food and water needed or just a good brushing every now and then?

Do they shed?  I can’t take another shedding dog in my house, so this furry footwear needs to be shed-free.

Is this one napping?

Is this one napping?

I realize Kobi Levi designed these shoes, but do you think he sold the design to Hush Puppies?  Do you think that’s why the brand is called Hush Puppies?  Because these shoes don’t know how to keep the barking down to a minimum?

Perhaps these dogs literally bark when you wear them.  If so, that would give new meaning to the phrase “My dogs are barking.”

How will they react to the doorbell? Will they cower in a corner and pee on the floor, or will they howl until the intruder leaves the premises?

How will they react to other dogs?  Will they immediately sniff a dog’s crotch and then begin humping him or her?

Where exactly are the genitals located on these shoes?  How do I know if they’re male or female?  Are they spayed or neutered?

Judging by this photo, I’d say these shoes are girls, as I see no sagging fur balls hanging low.  Are the male version loafers for men?

Do these shoes make you randomly start humping people whenever the need arises?  If so, that could be an explanation for Kim Kardashian’s hoe-bag behavior.  The shoes did it!

Nah, she’s still a slut-bag.

Can you wear these shoes around cats or will they immediately get into a scuffle with any feline?

Will they randomly start chasing their tail? This is important information I need to know, as I already have enough challenges just walking normally without having my shoes break out into play.

Are they like most dogs and go crazy for bones?  If so, what kind?  Will they go crazy for the bones in my feet or are they looking for something more of the Nylabone variety?

Do they like to dig and bury bones?  If so, I’m in trouble, as they’re already in the position to start digging to retrieve my metatarsals.  Will they try to hide those or will they just gnaw on them until my feet are numb?

I guess if that’s the case, I can definitely say “These puppies are hurting my feet.”

Do these shoes know how to heel or do they also come in flats?  (Yes, this was a bad pun. I know.)

How do I protect them from wear and tear?  Do I give them a monthly flea dip?

Are these shoes trained to fetch the paper and my slippers on a Sunday morning, or will they stay in bed and hog the covers?

What do I do with them when I want to leave the house?  Do I have to put them in a kennel or will they be good and not tear up the house?

I have so many questions about these shoes, none of which are answered.  I guess I will never know unless I purchase a pair myself.  Either way, I suspect they all have perfect soles…just like most dogs do.

Puppy pumps

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From left to right:

I attended BlogHer again this year, and I was not disappointed.  I learned a lot including the fact Queen Latifah has some rocking biceps and Wendi McLendon-Covey is even funnier in person.

Cha. As if that was possible.

I took quite a bit away from the conference, including some great swag bags and a few embarrassing pictures I will promptly burn.

In addition to those, I took away memories of a great time and great friends.

For those of you who missed this year’s BlogHer, I’ve compiled a list of a few things I overheard this year at the conference.

These will make you feel like you were there, although it won’t give you the full experience of answering sex questions and winning Trojan products only after spinning a wheel.

You’re going to have to experience that in person next year.

Yes, this is really wearing a plastic measuring cup we got for free.  You're supposed to use them to measure your cup size, but we used them as hats to mimic ANTM poses.  That's what everyone uses them for, right?

Yes, this is really wearing a plastic measuring cup we got for free. You’re supposed to use them to measure your cup size, but we used them as hats to mimic ANTM poses. That’s what everyone uses them for, right?

“We really bonded over sizing each other’s boobs with measuring cups.”

“I loved Queen Latifah but didn’t see her crown anywhere?.  Do you think she is related to the Royal Baby?”

“Sorry, my vibrator is in the way.”

Did you visit the butt paste people yet?”

“Do you mind if I plug my iPhone, iPad, and laptop into this one outlet?”

“Is this my lube or is it yours?”

“Did you notice the Bearded Iris is neither bearded nor is her name Iris?”

Yes, it's a wheel of Trojan products.  And it was awesome.

Yes, it’s a wheel of Trojan products. And it was awesome.

“How am I going to fit all this toilet paper in my suitcase?”

“I’m going to swing by the Coca Cola booth and blast my abs really quick before this next session.”

“You’re the only non-grandma I know who can rock blue hair from the Windex booth.”

“Do you think I could get another pedometer?  Mine had an unfortunate drowning death in the women’s restroom.”

“Good God, these swag bags are heavy!”

“This was the greatest time ever and I can’t wait to do it again next year!”

Above all others, I heard the last quote the most.

Thanks to BlogHer for another great conference and another great year of fun.

Check out all this free swag!  We hit it big at the Wheel o' Trojan!

Check out all this free swag! We hit it big at the Wheel o’ Trojan!


overhear at blogher