T to the J to the M-A double X: Bitches who play with big silverware get stitches.

Sometimes you go to TJ Maxx looking for a slutty dress and find everything but....



Take, for example, this sack of glitter skulls. Perfect for when just one glitter skull won't cut it. They come in this great mesh sack so they are easier to take home on the bus. The contents of the sack can clearly be seen so no one assumes you bought something frivolous. (like food for your children.)


This could be useful. No one can say they weren't warned. Can't sue me. You should have read the pillow.






These were actually normal sized pieces of silverware. We were just shrunk when a baseball we threw through the window triggered the eccentric neighbor's shrinking machine. (I don't care if that wasn't funny. I have always wanted to make an obscure "Honey I Shrunk The Kids" reference. )





Things turned dangerous real quick. I was lacerated by the silverware. They really should have posted some sort of warning that fighting with items in the middle of the store could lead to injury. I was given a band aid before I could spread any blood borne pathogens about the store. I was NOT given, however, any free items or discounts to compensate me for my injury.




What is this? My assumption is that it is a candle holder....of a hand assuming the conventional position for giving manual pleasure to a male. I know, I know...how could I post such filth? Easily. If you have learned anything about me by now, it is that I AM FILTHY. My grandma doesn't have the Internet, so it's O.K..

So of course I had to ask myself "Is this $8 funny?"
The answer was yes. And now I have a banana holder that I affectionately refer to as "Handy Jay". Get it? He's handy because he he holds bananas and his name is Jay. Duh.

Jessica O., Rn : The jail nurse.

It is my divine pleasure to introduce you folks (ALL 5 of you) to Jessica. Who is Jessica? She is My cousin. My cousin, the RN. Why am I introducing you to her? Part boredom, lack of things to write myself and an obligation to expose the seedy world of being a nurse behind the walls of the Lane county jail.







So I asked "Hey Jessica, What happened at the jail today?"


Her response (If it looks like this, it's me chiming in and interrupting like an a-hole):


"Today at the jail I thought of you while straddling a drunk fellow (Naturally, she would be thinking of me) faking a seizure. I struggled to keep him held down so he didn't flail about hitting someone or himself as I gripped him tightly by his jail scrubs and held down with all my might. Great upper arm workout, FYI (good to know, Jessica. Can we make jailhouse exercise videos?) He was a very great actor ... thrashing about, foaming at the mouth, held his breath and drooled all over my shoes. I held tight standing there comforting him and trying to calm him, he finally was still (exhausted from his acting job) and the first thing out of his mouth was "I need a beer" . (I hear ya, man) I walked away at this point and told them to send him to the hospital went back to my cave and cleansed my drooled on shoes.


This leads me to about an hour later when my heart starts to pound at the sound of the code alarm, the second time it went off in the past hour and a half! They call and say they need medical RIGHT AWAY in the sally port outside, we grab our gear and start heading out at a fast pace (I notice you didn't use the word "run") thinking this just has to be fake seizure guy back from wherever. But no, this was going to be the real thing I thought because halfway there a deputy sees us and says "The crash cart is already out there!" ( I am assuming this is a big fucking deal)


My heart started to pound even faster and all I could think of was, dear God, I'm going to have to give CPR to someone, please don't let them be too dirty (hey, I've frenched bums, it's not so bad. Has an earthy taste). Another nurse and I start to run like some drunk bum's life depended on it (most likely literally) I get out side and what do I find but a tiny woman in a moo moo with bright colored Hawaiian flowers going crazy on the ground. (Not me, for once. Oh, and I thought it was "mumu".)


She literally looked like she was plucked from her house in the middle of frying some chicken up for her old man (YUM! Lucky guy!) when perhaps their level of drunk got to a point were the cops were called and they had to pull this tiny chihuahua woman off him (all speculation and my great imagination of course). I rush over to start assessing her worried she's on the verge of dying, when I'm hit with a barrage of profanities from this tiny woman's mouth. I was impressed I gotta say, she strung words together like a dirty drunken poet. (oooh...perhaps I found a new guest blogger!) I figured great at least she's with it (sort of), I furiously look her over trying to find the problem...


Still cuffed she was a fighter, 6 deputies and a cop surrounded her (A personal fantasy of mine, BTW) , I ask "What's going on?!" That's when this giant hole of disappointment ("giant hole of disapointment". How some could describe my bedroom skills...) washed over me, they all looked up at me and one of the deputies answered "That gash in her head is going to need sutures isn't it?" I looked down at the meaty gash (I'll show you a meaty gash. SORRY!) and agreed. I however was still at the ready to put my nursing skills to the test further, I started to pull out the blood pressure cuff, was searching for some gauze for the wound when the deputies around her said "That's all we needed to know thanks." I looked up and asked "That's all?!" "Yup, that's all."


I sadly walked my fat, hot, sweaty self (Let's try not to give everyone a boner, Jess. Tone it down.) back to my cave and quietly cussed to myself about that moo moo wearing fool. I guess the lessons learned for me were two things:


1. If I'm going to where a moo moo to fry up some chicken for the old man and shit starts going down put some pants on underneath for later so the world doesn't see anything whilst I'm thrashing about (surprised this didn't occur to you before this. I guess this was your wake up call.)


2. I learned how to spell moo moo. (Still to be determined if this is correct.)"


Thank you, Jessica! I will be waiting on pins and needles for more tales from the jail.

Cereal dating.

We met at Target. It was just my typical 3rd or 4th trip there that week. This time was different. I had more than $15 in the bank and I was feeling like a high roller with lady luck on her side.

I decided to treat myself to some food. What could be more luxurious than breakfast cereal?

I browsed past the usual suspects... Cheerios didn't do it for me (boring). Lucky charms don't suit my lifestyle (too flamboyant). Frosted flakes are overly sweet and I am pretty sure that tiger still lives with his mom. Cinnamon Life and I had a regular thing back in the day and I just couldn't bring myself to go crawling back. Oh well. Perhaps I'll go check the bagels out, I thought...

Then I saw them.


Mini wheats. These aren't your mom and pop's mini wheats. These have a "touch" of fruit in the middle. Not a "blast". Not "stuffed to the max". Just a "touch". I knew from the moment I saw them them that I wanted them to touch me. On the inside.

Upon returning home, I hastily poured myself a bowl (serving size is 21 biscuits, by the way). I couldn't even wait until breakfast.

I shoveled 21+ fruit touched biscuits into my pie hole. It. Was. Glorious. A symphony of textures and flavors exploded in my mouth. Each bite was better than the next.



When it was over, I wiped the beads of sweat from my brow and reflected on what had just happened. If I was a smoker, I probably would have lit up. THAT WAS DELISH.

It has been a few days now. We have seen each other every morning...even if it hasn't been exclusive (breakfast sandwich and I still have a little thing going on). This could be the start of something beautiful...