Sorry, What Did You Just Say?

Gym Tip for Today

When heading to the gym, please make sure you brush your chompers. It is one thing to smell of body odor while you are pumping iron or running intervals on the tread mill--I mean, it would be weird if you didn't sweat at the gym. But, if the bowl of mothballs and hot steaming mug of urine you had for breakfast can be smelled by the person running next to you on the treadmill, you should be ashamed of yourself. How do you think that person feels when they take a deep breath of what they expect to be fresh air, and instead of fresh air they inhale the humid stench of your rotting gums? I'll tell you how they feel--violated! They feel as if their lungs had been raped by a group of full-time, community college students just home from their spring break in Tijuana! That's how their lungs feel! Dirty, so very dirty...

*cough*

So, anyway, the moral of this Gym Tip is:

Brush your pearly whites before heading to the gym, lest you want your fellow gym-goers to spew forth vomit in the nearest trash receptacle.

Sincerely,

MH-Dos

Seriously?

While strolling about the interweb this evening I came across something, well, something odd to say the least. In an article titled YouTube 'spammed by US Congressmen', the author tells of the popular YouTube website being bombarded by videos from politicians peddling their diverse messages. Now normally, this article would have bored me pretty quickly--I mean, politicians seeking online publicity...no! However, this part of the article caught my eye:

In a minute-long video, Mrs Pelosi showed footage of her life behind the scenes in the Capitol Building through the eyes of two pet cats.
Making matters more bizarre, the minute-long film was captured to the strains of Rick Astley’s disco hit, Never Going To Give You Up.

Whaaaaaaaaaaa? Nancy Pelosi is hot for cats and Rick Astley? Stop the muthafu*kin' presses folks! Who knew that the Rubbermaid-faced, school guidance counselor-toned Speaker of the House whore was hip on the retro music scene? I for one did not know that. And she is in tune with cats as well...holy crap.

So, you ask, now that I've found out this unique information about Mrs. Speaker, do I feel a kinship to her Fakenesty? Of course not. I really only like cats from far away, and I only enjoy Rick Astley when he showcases in an "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia" episode. Even so, I am very excited to share the complete and utter idiocracy that is,

"Speaker Pelosi's Capitol Cat Cam"...

An Exchange

DH: Ten people got laid off at work today.

Me: Oh, dude. That sucks!

DH: I did get to have lunch at 555, though.

Me: Aww, dude. That rocks!

Me: Carter broke two bowls today and dumped an entire bag of Doritos on the floor.

DH: I'm sorry honey.

Me: I didn't have to clean up lumpy milk vomit, though! [clicks heels together with glee]

DH: The glass is always half full, isn't it?

Me: Yes, except for the one Carter broke yesterday. It was empty.

FIN.

Me So Bad

Your morality is 0% in line with that of the bible.

Damn you heathen! Your book learnin' has done warped your mind. You shall not be invited next time I sacrifice a goat.

Do You Have Biblical Morals?
Take More Quizzes

It's Friday Fun Day kids! In order to start my day off with a bang, I took an interweb quiz on how Biblically moral I am--and guess what? My morals are 0% in line with the Biz-ible.

Are you feeling spriritually lucky this blessed morning? If so, take the quiz and see if you should be smitten by the lightning rod of the Lord, or patted on the head by the gentle hand of God.

Nothing in Particular

Just trying to break back into the world of internet displayed thought. I haven't written much of anything lately, and I know that the longer I keep away from writing, the harder it will be to get back into it. I don't think I'll ever not have the desire to write, but I really am not the greatest when it comes to follow-through.

My writing at this point in time reminds me of a bike I own. This bike, is sweet. It is so, so sweet. It's a vintage Schwinn beach cruiser. Candy apple red, with nice little white wall tires. Oh, a bike like this begs to be rode. It needs it. Sadly, instead of riding my little red bike, I neglected it. For some time my little beach cruiser sat on the back porch, unprotected while the ocean breeze had its way it. After the humidified humiliation, the chrome on my beach cruiser was covered in a rash of rust, and the candy apple red had been dulled down to more of a brick outhouse red. I felt guilty every time I looked at it. Luckily, my little sister volunteered to adopt my little red beach cruiser for a while. She'll take better care of it than I did, and now it won't be in the back crying "Ride me!"

So, my writing has rusted like the little red bike. Whenever I think about all the things I could be writing, I get a tinge of guilt. It's as if I've set my creativity out to rust among all the worthless things I have been doing with my time. Well, to be fair the things I have been doing instead of writing aren't worthless for the most part. Feeding children, breaking up brawls, folding mountains of laundry--it's not worthless, but it's not creative in the least. But my writing, unlike the bike, cannot be pawned off on another to be lovingly restored. I own it. I am responsible for it forever, and if I don't get the rust off of these fingers and this brain--it's my own damn fault.