The Magic 8 Ball Says "Outlook Not Good,"
Which Translates Loosely To
"Your Retinas Will Burst Into Flames"

5 Things You Didn't Catch Me Doing Over The Weekend
And Not Just Because I Was In Jail, Like Last Time

1. Roasting a pig on a stick in my front yard. Or partaking in any pig-on-a-stick roasting in anyone's front or back yard. Or partaking in any human sacrifices at the altar of the devil.


2. Cracking my head open while being run over by a three year old on a tricycle. Every time my nephew came wheeling towards me at full tricycle speed he would scream "Watch ouuuuuuuuut...I'm going crack your head open!"
In terms of how frightening it was, I can only compare it to that time the other Smurfs turned on Papa Smurf and attacked him with a giant mushroom. So yeah, I told him I didn't know him well enough to let him crack my head open and he got all serious and adult like and said "No, just for pretend!" Ohhh, ok then. Tell that to THE POLICE, little boy, that's what I said.


3. Finding any eggs with dead baby chicks in them. Or any eggs at all. Easter Bunny bastard.


4. Attaching bunny ears to my cats' heads and making them pose for pictures. Because I'm not quite at that stage of the disease yet, thanks for asking. Maybe next year.


5. Giving birth. Yeah. One of my older brothers, who is married and settled with 2.5 kids, the white picket fence, the SUV with built in DVD player for those mindless hours of Elmo Takes Manhattan, or whatever the hell Elmo is doing these days, and the whole shebang, loves to ask me what I'm "up to" which is his special way of asking if I'm "with child". Uhh, aren't we missing a step here? This weekend I got bored so I told him I was in fact pregnant and that I had just dropped the afterbirth on the floor of his gargantuan SUV's passenger side and left the baby in his neighbor's trash can. He just stared at me the way you are probably staring at the screen right now, with a combination of fear and horror and confusion and a smidge of excitement. And then we had sex. Oh. No, I'm pretty sure that didn't happen.
Now if someone could kindly show V.C. Andrews to the clearly marked Exit door inside my brain, that would be great.


5 Things You Might Have Caught Me Doing This Weekend
If You Weren't So Busy Playing With Your Wind-Up Toys

1. Being given a brand new digital camera and photo printer. Just because I asked and just because no one can say no to this face. Except my mailman. And Jared Leto. But let's not get into that. Once I figure out how to work the thing I will be posting photos galore. Maybe. Tasteful photos. Of my ASS.
No, not really. Maybe of my mailman's ass though.


2. Being called cheap by a GAS STATION ATTENDANT because I didn't want to buy "Two Reese's Peanut Butter Cups For A Dollar," and when did gas station attendants start working on commission anyway? I ought to go back there next week and recreate that "You work on commission, don't you?" scene from Pretty Woman and show her a receipt for 50 Reese's Peanut Butter Cups which I will have purchased at a different gas station. Except I won't. Because I have this thing about buying candy where I buy my gas, ok? Never the two shall meet! Or something.


3. Watching Fillmore, some cartoon that, as far as I could tell, is about a bunch of narc middle school kids and that's about it. What the hell? I was severely disturbed and confused and if I was a kid watching that I would never want to go to school. Oh and I want my mommy.


4. Listening to country music. It might have even been the same song, just played over and over and over again. Something about some guy's wife leaving him and taking the dog, maybe? I couldn't really tell you because after 2 minutes and 20 seconds my ears started bleeding. I'm even surer now than I was when I saw my face on the milk carton that I am either adopted or abducted. If you think you might be my real family, please e-mail me your address so I can come live with you. Or just a check would be nice. Your choice. I love you, real family!


5. Painting my nails Vixen Red to see if there is any truth to the Amish tale that red nail polish = sex. Yeah. I know what you are thinking. Does it count if it's with a family member? What about if it's with Haley Joel Osment? Sick-o! You just had to go and ruin a perfectly quaint piece of Amish history, didn't you? You are going to HELL, baby.


Ok. Now you know too much. I'm going to have to kill you. But it will have to wait, because I have more pressing things to attend to, such as the growth in my left eye. Don't worry; I've narrowed it down to either a tumor or a baby. I'm hoping it's a baby because I'm sure that giving birth out of my eye socket would come with some sort of merit badge that I missed out on when my parents refused to sign me up for The Girl Scouts.