Everything I Like Causes Cancer

Two weeks.

It's been two weeks since you looked at me, cocked your head to the side and said I'm angry.

Wait, wait, wait . . . that's not what I'm trying to say. Those aren't even the right lyrics to the song. I got distracted again.

SQUIRREL!

My point was this: I have yet again abandoned this site for real living. Not reporting on living but actually doing it. A lot of it. So much living, in fact, that I'm reduced to summing it up in pictures and bullets . . .

• I saw the play Outlying Islands with our Culture Club (a.k.a. my bestie Leslie). It was okay. Heavy on metaphor with an odd ending we've not been able to understand since viewing it. That said, I'm glad we were adventurous and saw something that doesn't often make the St. Louis theater circuit, like say A Doll's House or The Importance of Being Ernest.
  
  
• I toured the first Frank Lloyd Wright house built in Missouri with ttmac and The Carpenter. My favorite period in American history and my favorite style of architecture is Arts and Crafts. I love the aesthetic, I love the philosophy and, as such, I love Frank Lloyd Wright. Yes, he was difficult. Yes, he was foolish with money and women. But damn that man knew how to design amazingly beautiful structures. The house we saw is a Usonian built for a local man and his wife. There are only TWO right angles in the entire house! Wright designed the house using only equilateral parallelograms and hexagons, EVEN IN THE DRAWERS:

And the furniture:

The guest bed.

The dining/living area.

All of the 60/120 degree angles throughout the house give it a sense of motion, almost like you're on a ship:

All of the interior lines continue to the exterior, AND THEY ALL LINE UP.

I could go on for days about this house. This topic probably should have been its own post but who knows when I'll be back here. Just one more picture, because I was mesmerized by this roof line:

• I was awed by sunsets like this:

NO Ball Playing IN THIS . . . tree?

• I played with my food:

You gonna eat that pickle?

• I built a Kat Phort and filled it with catnip:

NO GIRLZ!

• I had a night out on the town with the girls that, for a couple days, made me regret nights out on the town with the girls:

I witnessed a turtle orgy:

Brown chicken, brown turtle.

• And I gardened. Oh boy, have I done some gardening. Since we last discussed the garden I've re-vamped almost every inch of it. I installed new solar lights along the walk, I thinned and transplanted hostas to create the border of the new bed, I moved almost every plant that already existed, I gave away a bunch of plants and added some new (more interesting) plants, I rearranged the patio furniture, I tended the seedlings . . .

This is what success looks like.

. . . I started potting the containers . . .

I took this picture at the zoo the other day because seeing these exposed camel berries made me giggle and think of you. Enjoy.

I was driving home from work the other night and this car pulled up along side me into my peripheral vision.  I caught a glimpse of the "body" in the trunk and flipped the fuck out.  Adrenaline surged through my veins.  I was terrified.  I'm not kidding.  I really thought I was about to be part of some crazy rescue mission, calling 911 and saving the life of this poor wretch who'd been stuffed in a trunk.

You know, when I named this blog I really didn't consider the hot-button connotation of the word cancer.  I'm an impulsive gal so forward thinking isn't my strong suit.  Interesting, sometimes gross, searches have been bringing people here since 2007.  Imagine their disappointment when they find me, a perfectly healthy asshole who smokes while she sits in the sun.  Precious.

Alright, I made up that part about him talking to himself but he did go from there to designing a line of sick shirts that kinda make me wish I had cancer.  


They are edgy and irreverent and vintage and fabulous.


They also don't make you want to puke, which is always a plus when choosing a garment for a friend with cancer, or even in general.

See?  We can tolerate pink when it's off-color.  Thanks, Ryan!

I apologize.  The persistent negativity this week is unintentional.  It would appear that I'm having my period but I assure you I am not, it's just the material that has presented itself.  I'm sure things will brighten up soon.  In the meantime, here's the latest thing I want to ridicule:

Today's Hummer is brought to you by the lift kit.  Uh-huh.  A lift kit.


For those of you who didn't grow up where the truck reigns supreme whenever testosterone is involved, a lift kit "(also referred to as lift kits or leveling kits) enable(s) steeper ascent, descent and breakover angles, higher ground clearance, and helps accommodate larger rims and tires."  Which is great, if you live 2,000 miles from nowhere in Outdoorsville, Rough Terrain, but what the hell does some preppy-assed suburban guy named Stew need with one?  He doesn't.

Look how much taller this thing is than a normal car.  Douchebag.

Little BRR was working hard browsing Overstock.com the other day and ran across this extremely odd item, the Hug Me Pillow. This creepily prosthetic pillow is designed to simulate the arm of a real man, namely Brad Pitt. I will grant you that Brad Pitt has a nice arm but it isn't the part of him I want to cuddle with, if you know what I mean.

She emailed me the link to the ad with instructions to read the reviews. We had so much fun laughing at them that I nearly hyperventilated. I've pulled the best ones for your enjoyment.




Anonymous from Alaska: If this pile of fabric "exceeded even (your) wildest expectations" you might want to dream bigger. You're from Alaska, fashion yourself after Sarah Palin. She's just a "hockey mom" and look where she ended up. You can do better than this.




Wait a minute. I thought this thing was supposed to be fashioned after Brad Pitt, not Jeff Bridges. Although I think a pillow fashioned after The Dude would provide a more peaceful night's sleep: Brad's always starting or ending or coordinating some sort of fight - not restful - while The Dude is a lazy time-wasting slacker.




Jesus, woman, you are one supremely high-maintenance bitch. I bet your husband's glad you got this pillow so he has a shield against your constant complaining. You might want to check yourself before he uses Brad's bolstered hands to suffocate you in your sleep. I'm pretty sure a jury of his peers would let him off.




Ewwww. You put your feet in a guy's crotchal region to warm them up? Socks, honey, try socks. Unless, of course, you're a podophiliac, and in that case your pillow should have been fashioned after Ben Affleck.




OMG!!!! YOU NEED TO STOP YELLING!!!!! OVERSTOCK IS A VERY QUIET STORE, LIKE THE LIBRARY! And for realsies? If you'd get some self-esteem and stop coercing your cats, you might actually be able to get a man in there. (Hmmmmmm, note to self . . . )

Isn't it funny that Sleepless but Godly is from "Virgin"ia? Poor girl would sleep better if she got some. I know that I am out like a light after a good roll in the hay, praise the Lord.




Um, ghost7? Do you and your sister live in the attic of your grandma's mansion? Because what the hell are the two of you doing when she visits that warrants a "wink, wink"? Gross.




This one brings me to a point that needs made . . . most of my married friends rejoice when their significant other is out of town because they get the bed all to themselves and will have a uninterrupted night's sleep. Some even talk at length about moving to separate rooms to get away from the snoring, blanket-stealing, bed-hogging bastard with whom they share a bed, so tell me again what purpose this creepy pillow serves . . .




I don't believe that you even have a man, SoLonely555. I can think of a lot of things that would do a better job of replacing a man when he's out of town than this awkward little pillow. Then there's the matter of your screen name - kind of gives it away - but it's mostly that you are excited about dressing your pillow in different outfits.




Hold up. You're too big for a pillow? I think I might have just solved your problem, Cute But Not Comfy. Try one of these instead.




SoLonely555? Is that you again? The Overstock reviews are not personal ads, hon. Try Craig's List, look in the casual encounters.

(The grocery list does not end in "porn" lemonade. It's "pom" lemonade, like pomegranate, you dirty monkeys.)

As you can see, I was out and about in the world running errands, picking up two pounds of hashbrowns, fish sticks, tater tots, and cheez whiz, a diet which just may explain the need for a new toilet paper holder. I remember rounding the corner into the parking lot of Lowe's and seeing a gal (?) standing by the entrance doors, enjoying a cigarette. Her body shape was so odd it screamed, "Look at me!" Imagine a ball with arms and legs. My oddball radar started sounding the alarm, giving me the lights AND the bells.

I parked my car and walked toward the store, watching her every move. She was facing the parking lot and yelling in a rough, gravelly voice at someone I couldn't see. As I got closer I could see that she was missing a bra and an alarming number of teeth.

But the best part? Printed across her severely faded and stretched-out-of-shape t-shirt was the word "TRAINER." I shit you not, "TRAINER." I was twitching trying to contain myself, but I simply couldn't get the shot without being a complete asshole.

See? Manners.

* I cleaned out every cabinet and shelf in it. I threw out, recycled and shredded so much old junk that I was able to make room for my yearbooks, photo albums and scrapbooks. What does this mean for you, monkeys? More old, and likely humiliating, pictures of me! Yay!

One evening earlier this week I was driving home, top down on the car, enjoying a smokey treat, radio blaring. It's not a bad way to travel and the ciggie is optional.

Anyway, I'm blissfully tooling along when I see this guy.

littlepenislittlepenislittlepenislittlepenislittlepenislittlepenislittlepenislittlepenis

Really, guy? You're driving an H3 with license plates that read, "BICEPS"? You were conscious when you made this choice? I imagine you'd be upset to know what people think when they see you, but what options do we have, you over-inflated tool?

I knew immediately that I had to share this ridiculous display of misplaced testosterone with you, but he was in the lane next to me and I kinda had my hands full what with the having to shift my car while also retrieving the camera out of my purse. Needless to say the smokey treat was ditched so I could attempt the rest. Sacrifice number one.

The first order of business was somehow getting the tank positioned in front of me so I could get the shot. I considered using the Vulcan mind meld but it requires physical contact and is rarely used for controlling another person. While I was pondering my options, he serendipitously put on his blinker. Traffic was pretty heavy so I let him in. Sacrifice number two.

Now that he was in the proper position for mocking I had to somehow continue driving safely while also taking a picture. It wasn't easy, or safe. Sacrifice number three.

I tried to get a look at him when he turned left but it was hard with him being 1,200 feet off the ground in that gas-sucking monster. All I could see was a ballcap and sunglasses, which really drives my point home. (I kid.)

Have a great Thursday, monkeys. The week is almost over and we're staring down the barrel of a three-day weekend. Woot.

So a couple guys are out there today telling the world they've found Bigfoot. Their website, http://www.searchingforbigfoot.com/, includes a picture of what they claim to be the body of one of these creatures.

Statistics on the Squatch body include:

• The creature is seven feet seven inches tall.
• It weighs over five hundred pounds.
• The creature looks like it is part human and part ape-like.
• It is male. (Can you even imagine the size of that thing? Yowza.)
• It has reddish hair and blackish-grey eyes.
• It has two arms and two legs, and five fingers on each hand and five toes on each foot.
• The feet are flat and similar to human feet.
• Its footprint is sixteen and three-quarters inches long and five and three-quarters inches wide at the heel. (More evidence of it's size, if you know what I mean. Wink, wink. Nudge, nudge.)
• From the palm of the hand to the tip of the middle finger, its hands are eleven and three-quarters inches long and six and one-quarter inches wide.
• The creatures walk upright. Several of them were sighted on the same day that the body was found.
• The teeth are more human-like than ape-like. (All the better to eat you with, my dear.)
• DNA tests are currently being done and the current DNA and photo evidence will be presented at the press conference on Friday, August 15th.

Seriously. I pass this monstrosity every day on my way home from work and every day it makes me as crabby as if I, too, were having seven periods at once.

Besides, 23 flavors? Pffffft. That's a pittance compared to Baskin Robbins or Ani DeFranco. Big deal. I say, piss off, Dr. P! Take your measly 23 flavors and your recommendations and your annoying over-punctuation and piss.the.eff.off.