butt (heh heh), I just wasn't sure WHY someone would want to spend time creating THIS.

There's a Q&A section on the site where the person answering the questions signs it as "PooNurse: Please be advised that I am only a Poonurse. I am NOT a medical doctor. Any advice I give should be taken moderate skepticism. Please consult a REAL medical doctor if you feel you have a serious medical condition. "

There's even a POOtique where you can buy stuff. I was afraid to look and see what they were selling there...

(Don't ask why I was searching on the topic. Just refer back to this post.)

I was watching Inside Edition and they were talking about Owen Wilson's alleged suicide attempt. The reporter actually said this (yes, I am quoting directly. I ran to my laptop to log it so I would get it exactly right):


"He’s in an exclusive area of Cedar’s Sinai called “The Celebrity Area.” An area with larger rooms...called SUITES."


What is this SUITE of which they speak?!?! Maybe someday us little people will get to experience this elusive room type apparently saved only for celebrities?!?! Yes! Yes! Some day Dorothy, some day over the rainbow, you can actually stay in a SUITE.


WOW. Perhaps next time the guy can speak slowly, nodding his head - maybe spelling out some words. Or, maybe one of those white graphic on-screen pens that John Madden uses would be useful in helping us peons understand EXACTLY what a suite is.


E-gads.

2:06 a.m.
Getting up because I can't sleep, YET AGAIN. I already know what time(s) the baby will wake up for feedings...
I flip on the light.

Todd: Your boobies are HUGE
ME: *sigh*
ME: Honey?
Todd: Yeah?
ME: Are we going to have to go through this everday for the next 6 months until the baby is here?
Todd: Yeah. *heh*heh*
ME: *sigh*

Like, OMG! I can't, like, get by on BLOND and BOOBS!??! Like, WHATEVER!

I belong to several freelance writing sites where companies/individuals post projects they have and then the writers bid for the projects. I was on one site a few days ago and there was a posting that read something along the lines of:

Need eulogy written for person that just died. Have to deliver by Saturday. Budget $100.

Ok, this is wrong on SO MANY different levels. If you've been asked to deliver a eulogy, isn't it because it's someone that you supposedly
a. KNOW
b. CARE ABOUT

And, how am I supposed to write a eulogy that depicts a person's life THAT I DON'T KNOW, HAVE NEVER MET, and DON'T CARE ABOUT. Seems to me the guy would have a better chance of just winging it after a couple of Buds.

WEIRD.

I can't say that I didn't momentarily consider submitting something to this guy just to teach him a lesson (OK, really, just to amuse myself...)

Addendum: This is just as wrong as the person who posted the project!

OK.

In case you missed the not so subtle evidence in this post, I'm pregnant. (DON'T YELL AT ME IF I HAVEN'T TOLD YOU YET - hey, it's just barely sinking in for me! That's right boys and girls, I'll have a toddler when I'm the big 4-0...)

...

...

...

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Sorry. I passed out on my keyboard for a sec.

Anyway, I just want to say that all those cute pregnant people you see on TV? They're all LIARS with a big capital "L".

TV MOM-to-BE: Happy, smiley, beautiful, perfect hair and wardrobe without nary a sign of morning sickness or mood swings. TV moms-to-be look like this:

See how happy and cute and trendy and beautiful she is? See how perfect her hair is? Well, it's ALL A LIE! In case you don't know, I'll set the record straight for how it really is.

REAL Moms-to-Be: Bloated with non-stop heartburn, mood swings and ALL DAY "morning" sickness, with gray hair bleeding through because they can't get their hair colored and highlighted for 3 months without a choice of ANYTHING cute to wear. Real moms-to-be look something like this:

Note the poor choice in clothing because THERE ARE NO CUTE PREGNANCY CLOTHES

(OK, so that's really Mama Cass and I don't think she was pregnant, but you get the point.)

Liars.

The Sign Scrambler has struck again and again in our small town. Yesterday was a disappointing attempt at a sign scramble at the local McDonald's (yes, again). In an attempt at creativity that fell way, way short, the sign simply read:

WHORE

I guess Mickey D's wasn't as excited about this one as the Free Iced Ass scramble. The sign was completely blank when I drove by a few hours later.

I opened an online book industry newsletter this morning and saw this:


I almost peed myself with excitement.
Then I remembered I haven't published a novel.
Bummer.

The following is an email exchange between my cousin, Matt, and me. Enjoy!
_____

To: Jackie
From: Matt
Subject: I heard a little rumor

Is it true? Are congratulations in order?
Miss you, Matt.

______

To: Matt
From: Jackie
Subject: RE: I heard a little rumor

It depends...what did you hear?!?

_____

To: Jackie
From: Matt
Subject: RE: I heard a little rumor

I heard all of the following. You tell me which ones are NOT true:
1. You won the lottery and built a school for blind kids.
2. You found your long lost twin, and they're not evil.
3. You saved a nun from a burning building.
4. You performed an emergency landing after the airplane pilot became unconscious.
5. You discovered a new species of plant that can cure cancer (in Michigan of all places!).
6. You donated a kidney to a stranger.
7. Ethiopia no longer has a food problem thanks to you.
8. You had a talk with Al Gore and global warming is gonna be OK afterall.
9. You performed a midnight lightning strike, and now Iran isn't a nuclear threat anymore.
10. You hosted an ice cream social for North and South Korea. Everyone's happy now.
11. You personally delivered Osama Bin Laden to backwoods Alabama for some sweet justice.
12. You reinstated Pluto as a planet again.
13. You're going to have a baby.

That's all I got right now. And that was just your Tuesday! Matt.

_____

To: Matt
From: Jackie
RE: I heard a little rumor

I am deeply humbled by your flattery of my supposed recent accomplishments; however, I regret to inform you that you may have been misinformed. Although there are some truths to your listing, there are also some discrepancies. I’ll try to address them point-by-point:

1. I have not won the lottery, yet I play religiously often combining my food stamps and the change I can dig from in between my car seats at the thought that I can one day (at last!) have enough money to buy the Neverland Ranch arch and gate from Michael Jackson’s estate.

2. I don’t have an evil twin, but I do have an evil older brother.

3. I thought I was saving a nun, but then I realized I had dozed off and woke up during a Sally Field movie.

4. I was all set to land the plane when at the last moment the pilot awoke from a sweat-drenched unconscious state screaming, “THE WHITE ZONE IS FOR LOADING AND UNLOADING ONLY!”

5. It wasn’t really CANCER I was trying to cure as much as a “grammatical growth” by trying to ban every Michigander within a 75-mile radius of me from ending their sentence in eh?

6. I don’t consider the kidney donation to be to a “stranger” per se since we bonded nicely over 3.5 beers together at the local pub prior to my waking up in a hotel room in a bathtub full of ice.

7. I’m offended by the Ethiopia comment since I think it was meant to be a FAT JOKE.

8. I spoke with Al Gore at length, but basically it was about how I didn’t really think HE invented the Internet (and NOTHING about global warming).

9. No, but I did perform a midnight Pink Floyd light show in my back yard that almost caused a Canadian strike.

10. I TRIED to host an ice cream social between North and South Korea, but it turned out to be a disaster when I realized that the only one true place in the world that appreciates Bubble Gum ice cream is Shelbyville, Indiana.

11. OK, let’s get the Bin Laden thing straight – the ONLY reason that I delivered him to Alabama was because a group of white supremacists where SURE that it was really Dennis Rodman in disguise under all that hair and turban (I mean, think about it – have you seen Dennis Rodman lately?!?)

12. No, but I did reinstate Pluto as Mickey Mouse’s faithful sidekick

13. In relation to the pregnancy thing:
I’m either pregnant or
a. I've developed an unquenchable thirst the size of Montana that even the Tequila worm won't quench.
b. Someone on the "other side" is trying to use EVP to contact me through the white noise of an ultrasound.
c. I've had a really, really bad bout of food poisoning for the past 3+ months.
d. I've developed a case of hiccough Tourettes 78.6% of that time that I open my mouth to speak to customers.
e. I'm trying an interesting new diet technique to see how long I can sustain a diet just on chicken noodle soup, baked potatoes, and White Cherry Slurpees before I experience an Atkins-negative effect.
f. That breast enhancement cream that I ordered from HSN during one particularly insomnia-laced night REALLY DOES WORK!

Hope this clears up everything!

_____

TO: Jackie
FROM: Matt
Subject: RE: I heard a little rumor

OK, let me just say. Pure genius. I can't believe I've been missing out on this kind of banter for so long. Props for #6.You'll appreciate this video. Stay with it to the end if you can. Well, I guess congratulations are in order. The rumors ARE true. You found Dennis Rodman, and he got what he deserved.Love you and miss you. I'm gonna be in Detroit in two weeks (actually Monroe). Any chance you're going to be down that way on September 8th? Matt.

_____

To: Matt
From: Jackie
Subject: RE: I heard a little rumor

Thank you, thank you. I'll be playing here all week.
Disclaimer: The listed information is property of JacquelineWilsonSarcasm.com (AKA: "Bored At Work and No One to Play With"). All rights reserved. Created and penned in the questionable, but completely drug-free zone of Jackie's demented mind in Mayberry, USA.

We should be around that week. Would love to see you! Contact us closer to the date and let us know your schedule and/or follow the Pink Floyd light show to the North. Miss you and hugs/kisses to the family.
_____

In all seriousness (I know, hard after that), Matt and his family are doing some pretty important things in the world. Support them if you can.

I think the proper amount of time has gone by to pay my late cat Max respect, so now I'll tell you about the new addition to our family:

About 4 days before Max died, we "acquired" Freddie, a little kitty. I say "acquired" because it was more like me screeching at our friend Paul to go back to the park to save the little kitty he had seen clinging to a tire in the rain. I guess I sufficiently guilted, because Paul semi-obediantly retrieved said kitty. When he brought the kitty to the bookstore, I thought he was dead (the kitty, not Paul). He could barely hold his head up and we could barely feel his heart beating. After we dried him off, he still looked very, very sad and we weren't sure he was going to make it.

My plan was to nurse him back to health and then to find him a good, loving home.

*ahem*

Just for the record, that plan NEVER works for animal lovers. So, OF COURSE, we couldn't get rid of him and he's, shall we say, gotten quite comfortable at our house. Fast forward 3 months:

Freddie (what we named him, correction, what I named him and will never hear the end of...), has become Ninja Cocaine Kitty. I swear, this is the fastest cat I've ever seen. I often hear Hannah (Max's "sister" and our other 13 year old cat) crying out in complete pain and agony as Freddie Ninja-flings himself across the room and attaches his tiny, chiclet-like Ninja kitty teeth into any part of Hannah's body that he can reach in some kitty cocaine-induced frenzy.
It hurts.
It hurts REALLY BAD.

The reason I know this? Is because throughout the morning and evening, Freddie will Cocaine-Kitty-Ninja-fling-attach himself to my arm.

It's TERRIFYING. This is a picture of him running at me:

(OK, really, that's the Zuni Fetish Doll from the 70's-era Trilogy of Terror. But I SWEAR Freddie looks JUST LIKE THAT while he's lunging at me...)

(WHAT?!?!? You've NEVER SEEN nor HEARD OF Trilogy of Terror. *tsk*tsk* For shame... I think I saw it at the drive-in when I was 6. Which would explain a great deal of why I'm like this now...but, I digress...)

To make it worse? Freddie NEVER cocaine-kitty-Ninja-flings himself at Todd. It must have something to do with that secret testosterone hand shake.

So, anyway...we got a new cat...



Next Time: How Freddie tries to nurse on me...

The city's Rotary Club had a Donkey Baseball fundraiser. This morning I saw yet another interesting sign/letter scramble. Someone had taken the letters for the Donkey Baseball sign and rearranged it to:

Dic Ball Eat

Not as clever as "Free Iced Ass", but still nice.

The interesting part? This sign is sitting right in front of a very popular local church.

Dear Parents of Teenage Hellions:

Please teach your teenagers some telephone manners (and just manners in general) so that I do not have to be demeaned by some pimply-faced annoying walking hormone when I call your home to let you know that your book that you ordered has arrived (just as you requested that I do).

Please let your teenagers know that when I say, "May I speak to Colleen?" the appropriate answer is NOT, "TOO BAD!" followed by a hang-up click.

Please also let your teenagers know that when I immediately call back and say, "This is a business calling for Colleen. I would like to speak to her please," the appropriate responses do not include:
-"Oh, I thought you were someone else before," nor
-"Uh, I don't have a pen to take a message. And, I don't have a piece of paper."

HEY, SINGLE BRAIN CELL: Pick up the sharpie you were sniffing and scrawl the message on your arm next to those self-loathing hash marks you've carved in there.

I mean, SERIOUSLY. PLEASE become a contributing member of society. ANY SOCIETY.

Parents, if you cannot teach your teenagers manners and/or they won't learn manners, might I suggest a dark, dank basement/cellar pit a la Silence of the Lambs to save the rest of us from exposure (and yourself some sanity)?

(It rubs the lotion on it's skin...)

As I've discussed previously, I'm a little disappointed with what CNN decides to send me as breaking email news alerts. Take today for instance:

"President Bush's daughter, Jenna, is engaged to be married, the White House says."

Should this REALLY be a CNN breaking news alert?

Honestly, the people that I sent engagement announcements to were also the people who received wedding invitations. So, I consider this my invitation and thank you, Bush family, I am honored and I accept.

What does one wear to a White House wedding?
Hmm...what to wear...what to wear...

I love Dog the Bounty Hunter. Well, not Dog himself, but his TV show on A&E. (However, there might be a little, teeny, tiny bit of lust for his son Leland, but I certainly wouldn't call it LOVE...)

I'm not quite sure why I like the show (of which I ponder almost nightly when I am asked this question by my husband while watching 4 Dog re-runs each week night. Hey, don't blame a girl, it just happens to be on while I'm settling down for my nighty-nighty. What else am I supposed to watch while falling asleep?!?). Anyway, I really don't know why I like the show so much. He often comes across almost (but not quite) illiterate with his poor grammar. And, I certainly hate mullets, especially on 50-year old men. And there's a weird mish-mash of family dynamic with his extra ample-bossomed wife and 87 kids from different baby mammas. However, you just gotta love someone who kicks a** one minute and then prays with said person that just received a beat down the next. Bless his stringy little mullet head.

Haven't seen it? Oh, seriously, you gotta watch it. It's just plain good TV. I mean, what else do you have to watch? The latest episode of My Super Sweet 16 on MTV?

If you are a fan of South Park** then you'll love their Dog the Bounty Hunter spoof.

Next time: Katie and Peter (shame on you if you don't know who they are...)

**In full disclosure, I must tell you that I've never watched an episode of South Park. I do know who they are and ran across the Dog spoof on You Tube one day (shut up).

Addendum: I really don't yell out at my husband, "STOP IT! You're not singing it right and you're ruining it for me!" everytime he tries to sing the Dog theme song. (I mean, how hard is it say Hunta at the end instead of Hunterrrrr *sheesh*)

Where I live, there is an "Antique & Yard Sale Trail" that goes many, many miles up the coastline. It just happened to be last weekend. We were out driving around and passed a lot with a flea market kinda setup with this sign:
I guess you can sell just about anything at a yard sale now, eh? (I still can't figure out if this was a good deal or not...)