Clean Colons for Clean Minds

Don't you just love the ads in your local paper/ magazine?

Colon Hydrotherapy:  I had no idea that shooting water up your ass can treat allergies, memory loss (?), brittle hair and nails, and headaches.  Hunh. And you thought YOUR job sucked. 

I love the idea of an Express Gynocologist-- I wonder if they guarantee to check all your fluids and get you out of there is fifteen minutes or less.  And that "Japanese Therapy Massage"-- I can't believe they are still in business after several busts for their "happy ending" package.

Anyway, I guess all of you are finalizing your exciting New Year's Eve plans.  We, however, have the plague circulating around the house this week so it's vomit-cleaning duty for me, yay!  Have fun for me.  Oh, and since it's that time of year, might as well post my New Year's resolutions:

1. 
   
   Eat healthier, exercise, etc. etc.
   
   
   
2. 
   
   Get published more
   
   
   
3. 
   
   Get some cartoons published
   
   
   
4. 
   
    Quit smoking (okay, so I don't smoke, but I'd like to improve my success ratio here)
   
   
   

Happy New Year's, bitches!

Updated:  I just noticed in the Express Gyn ad :  Emergency Contraception.  Nice.

The Christmas Post

Hope everyone had a great Christmas.   Jason and I have always had a tradition that we don't buy each other gifts because Christmas is such a drain on the old account as it is, and instead we wait for the after Christmas deals in January and buy ourselves what we want.  I like it that way-- to me, Christmas is for the kids.  Except this year he went ahead and got me something anyway.  Don't you hate when someone you made an agreement with goes ahead and buys you something anyway, leaving you to feel like an ass on Christmas?  How selfish of them.

Like a lot of other people this year, I tried to scale back, but I still went a little overboard for the kids-- I can't help it.  We had such dismal holidays as a kid that there's nothing I love better than making them special for Jay and Megan.  Remember when I said that Evil Stepmother did a little stint as an Avon lady, and how we used to get crappy gifts like decorative soaps?  Ever tried to dress up little seashell soaps?  Or play little seashell soap family?  Sucks.  It wouldn't have been so bad if we'd been poor but with lots of love like a Dolly Parton song, but I don't remember much joy at all from my childhood.  So it pretty much just sucked all the way around. 

Anyway, that's why I tend to spend more than I should and then go upstairs and put on my crazy woman red lipstick singing I Feel Pretty.  It's worth it.

Jay was so cute in his gift giving.  He drew a picture for me and made a reindeer out of Bendaroos for his grandmother, but the best present of all was the one he gave to Jason:

He found this book by the sidewalk while we were out walking one day and immediately wrapped it and proudly put it under the tree.  So funny.

Needless to say we did not make it to Disneyworld. No matter how hard I tried to make the incoming money and outgoing expenses reconcile, the little numbers just laughed at me like Are you fucking kidding? I did see an ad, though, about a special Disney is having where they give you a free ticket when you do some community service. I just hope they won't have me in an orange jumpsuit picking up trash or anything. Please don't throw soda cans at me.

Lots of Thanking and Sucking Up

I just discovered a cool site called Double Sifted (I know, it makes me think of double fisted too).  It's a compilation of some great posts by a wide collection of bloggers.  Why am I mentioning it?  Because I'm on there, of course.  (I'm always happy to link someone who says how awesome I am.)  You can find me here and here and here  and here.  I've been browsing around there and found some really good bloggers.

Also, Aion highlighted me as his profile of the day on Dec 15.  He still hasn't told me what he googled to find me, and his review comes with warnings for some reason, but thanks for the recommendation anyway.

Hey, thanks everybody who became a fan of my cartoons.  Wow, some of you have some great secret identities.  I would have never guessed YOU to be a 14 year-old Malaysian boy in real life.  Hunh.  It's kind of cool to see all of you rambling around in there like politicians in a whorehouse, careful not to make eye contact.  I, too, have tried to protect my dirty little secret, so that I can post things like this without fear of censor:

Apparently, this is what happens to your goatee when you go down on Angelina Jolie.

Not quite as bad as what happens when you go down on Rosie O'Donnell, though.

So if you're over on the Kimmie Haha fan site, keep this blog on the down low too.  'Cause a girl's gotta have a safe place to talk about her vagina, right?  And don't worry about me outing you, 'cause I'm cross pollinating so much lately that I'm scared I'm going to write "Hey great post about itchy assholes" on somebody's wall that is an innocent bystander sent there by a friend. 

As you can see, I still have not found the Spellcheck on Blogger's new editor.  And I've come to the conclusion that you guys are purposefully witholding the info to see just how dumb I really am.  Spelling errors make me feel naked.  Horrible sentence structure, not so much.  But you already knew that, didn't you?

Yes, I Am a Horrible Person, But You Should Still Help Me

Remember when I mentioned that I was playing around with some cartoons?  Well, I'm really kinda liking it.  I wish I was smart enough to set up a website, but for now I'll have to settle for the fan page I created on Facebook.  Yep, here comes the big pitch:  I need you guys to become a fan of Kimmie Haha.  I'm going to have an inferiority complex until my numbers reach a respectable 500 or so.  And I'm gonna need you to bug your friends into becoming a fan.  Hey, if Mr. No Talent Dan Cook can become successful through Facebook and go on to make crappy movies with Jessica Simpson, why can't I?

Become successful, that is.  Not make crappy Jessica Simpson movies.

Okay, chances of me making money from this are close to zilch, especially since I can't even set up a site so people can give me their credit card numbers.  The real reason is to feed my ego.  There, I said it.

Don't worry about me invading your personal space-- I won't friend you unless you send me a request.  (My first name, then Hamilton, then Waters.)  It's kind of like how I wouldn't say hi to anyone in the halls in high school until they said hi first, unless of course I was really good friends with them.  I don't know what I thought would happen-- like they'd recoil in horror and be like Ugh, I can't believe that little nobody said hi to me.  I hope no one else heard it.  I know-- I have rejection issues.

The other night at my friend's bachelorette party I think I sort of tried to talk her out of marrying her fiancee.  I think that probably makes me the most awesome bridesmaid ever.  I could be wrong.  Libby told me that my duty as a bridesmaid was to gain as much weight as possible to make the bride look better.  (Of course, the bride is a size FREAKING 2, and they STILL had to take IN her wedding dress.)  So I think I'm going to make it up to her by going off my diet.  Because I?  Am totally selfless like that.

Oh, and this is for you, Steamy:

I'm Such a Bad Bloggie Friend

I swear I am the Worst. Blogging. Friend. Ever.  Second only to how bad of a friend I am in real life.  I was reading some epic blogger on blogger tributes , and then when Libby mentioned me in her blog (link, link link) there was a comment from Chief, who is AWESOME, saying that she's tried to get my attention but to no avail.  I felt so bad!  I love reading other bloggers, but I don't read nearly as much as I used to.  Mainly because Megan has gotten so much faster at chewing through her knots, and there's always the constant annoying chorus of I'm hungry, I'm hungry buzzing in my ear.  (Seriously, I'm beginning to worry that my two year-old might be a little slow because I have showed her at least a dozen times how to use the stove and she still keeps burning everything.)  That's why I love Facebook so much-- I can throw some cookies across the room and have just enough time to check everyone's status and insert a sentence or two myself before Megan comes trotting back. 

This is also why it takes me forever to get through a book.  And I'm not talking about Hemingway or Steinbeck here-- I'm talking about flimsy little paperbacks with shiny shoes and purses on the cover.  I just can't get into a good Sookie/ weretiger sex scene when there's a lot of noise and commotion, and there is almost always a lot of noise and commotion over here.  Jason, on the other hand, can zip through a 500 page novel in no time.  It's as if there is some sort of invisible forcefield surrounding his recliner through which only his noxious gases can pass.  He can totally block out all the yelling and fighting like some sort of zen master.  Must be a guy thing.

On an unrelated note (or maybe not), I was noticing a trend in my choice of footwear the other day when I bought a new pair of shoes.  Now that summer has long gone and even I can't justify flipflops anymore, I've broken out my winter shoes.  Which, interestingly enough, seem to mostly consist of the slip-on variety.  Because I just can't spare that extra three seconds to insert my heel into a shoe...?  It's not like I have to rush out the door to fight fires or anything.  I guess I'm just that lazy. 

I realize that some of you are knee deep in snow already, but down here I still don't even wear a jacket on most days.  Of course, I've always been hot-natured.  Must be all my natural insulation.  Or inner wrath.

This Is What I Did Today Instead of Cleaning

So Christi posted several links on FB to a cartoonist, Natalie Dee, who is funny and talented and by all appearances, successful.  She did this because she knew A)  it would drive me mad with jealousy and cause me to claw at my face, thus exacting revenge for me standing her up when she was in town Thanksgiving weekend  and B) it would, at least temporarily, light a creative fire under my ass.
Then it hit me-- why couldn't I whip up some cartoons to go along with my daily musings?  And then I could put them on t-shirts and cards and sell them  because why should everyone have unlimited free access to my awesomeness  to raise money for all the underprivaleged orphans in Africa.  (By the way, I am LOVING the new editor on Blogger-- why am I always the last to find these things out??  Do you know how long I've been yearning to do the strike out word thing?  The world is my oyster now, people.)

Anyway, Cafepress allows you to upload designs and sell items with no upfront cost.  You probably don't make much profit off of it, but it's a safe way to test out some ideas without having to come out of pocket and end up with 150 lime green t-shirts in your attic.  Now all I have to do is come up with a quirky, cute-sloppy (as opposed to crappy-sloppy) stuff.  This is a rough, rough, ROUGH draft I was playing around with.  Pay no attention to the smeary colors, I was experimenting with waterpaint.

Yellow Trash Diaries:  Pearls of Wisdom from My Couch.

Meh, it needs a lot of work, but who knows?

Shit, where's the Spellcheck on this thing???

P.S.  A few ideas I had for cards/ t shirts:

Congratulations. 
Your joy is like burning acid in my face.

My mother-in-law's V disguise needs maintenance.

Sarah Palin's V disguise needs maintenance.