Hilarious Quotes from my Life III

I tried to kiss M'Lady in the morning.
M'LADY:Wait, I need to brush my teeth.
ME:I should probably brush my teeth again.
M'LADY:Why?
ME: Cuz I just ate nuts.
M'LADY: Does it even need to be said?

M'LADY: I wish I had a butch body. I just look so much better in femme clothes.
ME: You can wear whatever you want honey, but, yeah,I know what you mean. You really do have an incredible hourglass figure.
M'LADY: Nowadays it's more like an hour-and-a-half-glass figure.

In response to Super Day's "She the Wetest in the Building SFW"
video.
ME:Wet like a leopard slug, wet as a waterfall. Twisted puppy fucker try to fuck me like a pedophile.
M'LADY:When I put it in your face you might just drown, I will give you a snorkle and you can go down
ME:Can't skip a skip rock cuz I'm not a lake, punk. Just because I'm wet don't mean I want a rock thrown in my junk
M'LADY:If you put peanut butter trying to get your dog to lick me(long pause, beat drops) I WILL SHOOT YOU, SON.
ME:Fuck Thanksgiving turkey, don't you know I need a tube steak. My pussy ain't no oven, bitch but it wet like a tres leches cake.

ME:I don't know what's wrong with me. I want to be horny. I want to WANT to have sex with you. Like the other night, when you started licking me, I clammed up...Oh my god. I didn't mean to say that. Hahahahahaha!

FRIEND:Facebook suspended my account until I removed the whale vagina!!
ME:Really? That's ridiculous!
FRIEND:Isn't it? I'm guessing someone reported it?
ME:Who would do that? Oh well, let's just draw vaginas instead and say they're flowers.
FRIEND:Yay!! Awesome!! Censorship is dumb. Especially when it's an animal's genitalia..Makes no sense to me...It's not like it was a gang raping video
ME:How would you gang rape a whale?
FRIEND:Idk...Killer whales, maybe. They are rude.
ME:They're more likely to, you know, kill. Maybe a hammer head shark, a gang of em. Asshole sharks raping the poor whale vagina.
FRIEND:That whale was asking for it. Putting her vagina out there on the interweb.
ME:No way. No means no, whether you understand sonar or not.
For real ya'll. No means no. An absence of a no does not equal a yes. This is not meant to belittle victims of rape, but rather advocate for them, regardless of species.



THIS POST WAS BROUGHT TO YOU BY FLOWERS

DEATH MATCH: RED vs. WOODEN STICK OF DESTRUCTION

In this corner we see Red, a ninjamallow who doesn't mess around. He's seen more bubbling bodies of marshmallow cream destruction than the rest of the ninjamallow crew combined, which has left him a mere shell of a mallow. His strengths include anger explosions and cementing stickiness. His major weakness is triggers from past combat in the heat of the fires of retribution.

In this corner we see a stick. Okay, fine. It's not just a stick, it's The Wooden Stick of Destruction. What a douche bag. You know he got to pick his own name. Who would want to be The Wooden Stick of Destruction? I think he should be called the Wooden Stick of Douchebaggery. He thinks he's so great because he came from a tree. Too bad he's like the toenail clipping of a Great Oak. Oooooh, how scary. His strengtth is that he's pointy as fuck and can dish out one hell of a jab. His weakness, besides being a big wooden douchey douche bag, is that he can be snapped like a twig.

NOTE: This commentator is not biased, I don't care what you say.

NOW ON TO THE FIGHT...

The two start with equally cutting insults. The Wooden Stick of Destruction is definitely using his knowledge of Red's weakness here, but the mention of s'mores isn't quite enough to cause our ninjamallow to waiver. In line with this commentator's observation of the douchebag, I mean Sticky Stick of Destructing Things or Whatever, Red points out how insignificant his opponent seems in the grande scheme of things. The stick has held firm though and it's time for blows.

The Wooden Stick of Destruction launched, javelin like, through the air aiming for Red's center. Red didn't waste a second, jumping just inches above the stick's trajectory. The stick's speed was not fast enough for the ninjamallow, but it was fast enough to cause an intensely painful dive into the ground. Red jumped on the chance.

He cemented himself into a suger rock, smashing into the Douche Canoe Twig of Idiocy. A resounding BLAM! filled the arena, throwing dust and lightning into the air. The haze began to settle as the crowd inched to the edge of their seats...

The cement slam worked! Red won. It was a ninjamallow victory! The crowd roared with excitement. Meanwhile, the Wooden Stick of Destruction (and Douchebaggery) didn't do anything. Because he was dead. Because it was a death match.




THIS POST WAS BROUGHT TO YOU BY PROCRASTINATION

Dr. Skeptic

WAYS TO KILL YOUR DOG

My dog, Sophie, is awesome. You may remember her from a weirdo thought bubble, but probably not. I don't believe you remember much about thought bubbles.

If, by chance, you do remember a lot about thought bubbles, you should send me your favorite one, especially if it's a homemade weirdo thought bubble. I'll post it one day. I promise. Pinky swear.

Anyway, back to Sophie. She is awesome and I love her and I figured she'd like to ride on my motorcycle. There are a surprising amount of products for motorcycle doggies online, which are probably better than some of my ideas, but mine are cheaper. Cheaper is better. Mostly. Well, at least for my wallet. My first thought was to go to the pet store by my house. If anyone would know about pets and motorcycle safety it would be the pet store. Right? Wrong.

I asked the dude if he had any kind of harness I could strap to my body, like a papoose holder or something. He thought he might, so I followed him telling him my ideas. He stopped walking. His brow lowered. His eyes darkened. It was suddenly apparent that he was not going to help me find a safety device for my dog. "Dogs should never be on a motorcycle. There is no way to make that safe. Why don't you just wrap a jump rope around its neck and tie it to the fan before you go out of town, you crazy bitch." Ok, maybe he didn't say that last part, but it was in his eyes.

It was time for plan B. The interwebz. I searched for motorcycle safety equipment for dogs and found a variety of wonderful products like this, and this, and THIS! Some of it costs quite a bit. If my dog needed a surgery that cost as much as these things I'd have to curl up in a ball and berate myself as I watched the vet inject her with the blue juice. Well, I guess I could have a fundraiser. Anyway, the online products gave me some ideas and I figured I'd try to make them myself.

This idea failed. Why? Because I have absolutely no follow through whatsoever and ended up watching back to back episodes of Law and Order SVU. I love Mariska Hargitay. She's a badass.

I finally decided to use some weird bag I found in the garage and only take her a few blocks. She LOVED it!

I don't even think she got bugs in her eyes. She even got to hang out at the cofeeshop and get petted by strangers. It was a blast.

All this was beautiful, until my wife decided to open her mean ginger head mouth and make me cry.

We were at a different coffee shop on a different day, because we used to drink a lot of coffee (although she quit drinking caffeine because her doctor told her to, and I quit in solidarity, until I relapsed a month later) and I was talking about how ingenius it was to bring Sophie on the bike. Then she said it. The evil gingery sadist spoke. This is what she said.

GINGER CRAP HEAD: "It's cute until she falls off. She's going to fall off on the highway and die."

POOR INNOCENT ME: "No she's not!"

THE EVIL WHORE: "You know she's not going to live forever. You should just get used to thinking of her as a red smear on the road."

I burst into tears and began laughing hysterically at the same time. I don't cry, ya'll. Not in public anyway. She was just teasing and the thought of poor dead as dead Sophie had me blubbering like an eight year old who crapped his pants in elementary school. I'm surprised I'm not crying right now, although my lower lip is pushed out. I'm not smiling, guys. Poor Sophie. I THOUGHT "Danger" was her middle name.

Every few weeks the redheaded satan brings it up again. We'll be cuddling or eating pie or talking about Being Human, and she'll say it. She's going to die. Those four words have me in a mess of tears.

She's not going to die. But just in case, no more motorcycle.

P.S. I actually have 2 dogs. The other one, Nunzio, is awesome too, but in a SLOWLY awesome way.




THIS POST WAS BROUGHT TO YOU BY NUNZIO

Octopi Wall Street

THIS MESSAGE BROUGHT TO YOU BY MY SON

World Wide Recognition

It is every blogger's dream to find out that people all over the world are reading what she has to put out there. Like many bloggers, I have a site meter that tells me many things about who's looking, one of which is the city and or country the viewer is from. While it is unfortunate that many of these people are only on the site for 0-1 second, the more interesting thing is how they got here. Here is a list in order of most searched on how people arrive at your beloved Life in a Snowglobe.

1. blood spatter(s): I'm happy to know that I'm drawing the morbid, internationally
2. miles davis: I will never be Miles Davis
3. i look like crap: remember the hyperlink?
4. marshmallow porn: This person in the Netherlands is my hero.

Of course the truth is, most of my readership is from the U.S. and often gets to the page from Facebook (although there are some internationals from the FB including France and Korea). I can only hope that you continue to pass on these pearls of inappropriate morbidity I call humor, and that the international community will stop and read a bit in their effort to find blood splattering marshmallow porn on the interwebz.

And now, a picture.

All imaginary acts are completely consensual.




THIS POST BROUGHT TO YOU BY CURIOSITY

Hilarious quotes from my life PART II

M'LADY: Do you think you can draw me a picture of a vagina with dreadlocks?

ME: Son, what are you doing with that toothbrush? During shower time.
THE BOY: I'm brushing the elephant's teeth!HINT: The elephant is his penis. He then proceeds to play the drums with the toothbrush on his butt.
ME:Oh, I see. You know your dad brushes his teeth with that, right?
THE BOY: OH!!!! I better wash it off.

ME: What do you get when you cross a pair of glasses and a potato?
M'LADY: What?
ME: A spectator!
M'LADY: Dork!

ME: Asked during maternity clinical orientation. Are we actually going to be doing the vaginal exams to feel cervical dilation?
INSTRUCTOR: Yes you will.
UNNAMED CLASSMATE: Whispering. We're gonna be a'fistin'

ME: Son, do you feel like you have a lot of pressure on you?
THE BOY: Getting all worked up.Yes. I can't do everything. Everyone wants me to do all these things. I can't do everything! I can't fold clothes! I can't fly!"
ME: Stifling nearly uncontrollable laughter.

BACK STORY: My wife tricked me into drinking pee by saying what was in a cup in the car was pineapple Fanta. There was a Fanta logo on the cup. She's my wife. Of course I believed her. When I asked why she would make me drink her pee, she looked at me and asked why I thought she would pee in the car. Turns out the pee was our son's. She then called her sports team, Team Fanta. They had yellow bandanas. Bitch. I was on the yellow team the next week and she was on pink.

FACEBOOK POST: Team Fanta wins 10-9. Go Team Fanta!
M'LADY: When I'm on the yellow team it's called Team Fanta. When she's on the yellow team it's called Team I-drank-pee.

After putting the finishing paint touch ups on the apartment I was moving out of, I spill the entire paint can on the carpet.
ME: No-no-no-no-no-no-no-no-noooooooooo! I knew this was going to happen! Why me!?!?!?!?
M'LADY: Hahahahahahahahahahahaha. She literally rolled on the floor laughing
ME: I guess that was a bit dramatic.

During our first game of Magic the Gathering. This conversation took place with dramatic intentional lisps.
M'LADY: Oh my God, it'sth the Human Berztherker.
ME: Oh thit.



THIS POST WAS BROUGHT TO YOU BY DRAMATICS

Changes in Cowtown

THIS POST WAS NOT BROUGHT TO YOU BY THE TEXAS BEEF COUNCIL

The Birth of Mini Assorted Marshmallows

Once upon a time in Texas, there was a marshmallow and a bowl of sherbet.

It wasn't long until that sweet spark of love was ignited between the two confections. She lit him on fire and he melted her into a puddle. They were the sweetest couple the world had ever seen.

After a short courting, young love turned into low budget B movie porn scenes. They went at it like crazy. He licked her bowl clean. She couldn't resist his candy cane. Being from Texas, the two had never heard of protection, and thus they went bareback and brazen. Like the thousands of southern teenagers before her, Sherbert found herself swollen with child.

Marshmallow tried to be a good partner and take care of his lover. He spoke sweetly to her, but she had turned cold. She even became cannibalistic, requesting pickles and ice cream.

The day finally came when the offspring sprung forth from the icy cold nether regions of Sherbet. It brought the two beaming parents together in a moment of bliss and miraculous joy at the being they had produced in that moment of sweet nastiness.

Sherbet and Marshmallow looked down at the bundle of joy and instantly realized their baby was different. It was like nothing they had ever seen. He was a perfect mix of rainbow sherbet and marshmallow, an exotic sweetness unknown to the world. They had a hard time naming him, but finally came up with Assorted Marshmallow. The friction between the two parents had melted away like shaved ice in an oven and they joined together to raise their baby boy.

Things were great for the child as an infant. He was showered with love from his parents and given all the opportunities to express his little baby self. Unfortunately, things changed as he started exploring the world outside of his peaceful home.

No one knew what to do with this oddity of a being, so as with most unexplained phenomenon, people began to taunt him. He couldn't walk down the street without people yelling things like "Look, there goes the Rainbow Boy!." Some called him "colored" and others called him "fruity." All he wanted was some acceptance, but it was nowhere to be found. The cruel world had showed it's prejudice and hatred, and Assorted Marshmallow, in his youth and inexperience, felt he had nowhere to turn.

One day while Assorted Marshmallow was out for a walk, a freak accident occurred at his home. A goat had spontaneously combusted and in a last ditch effort to escape the flames, it race through the streets, crashing into the front door of his parents house.

The happy parents were taking a nap and didn't even realize the house had caught on fire. By the time the blaze was staunched, it was too late. Assorted Marshmallow ran in tears to the blackened remains of his home and discovered his mom and dad in caramelized puddles in the charred remains of their bed. The emergency crews had not been able to save them and their son was left alone and shattered.

As he walked the streets in a daze, hearing the usual taunts and seeing the sad sight of his parents' corpses floating in his vision, he came to the conclusion that he could not take this life anymore. He pulled all his resolve together and walked towards the human part of town in search of a gun. As expected, there was a shotgun on a hillbilly's porch. He had no fingers so he crawled inside the barrel, in hopes that the man would find something to shoot at. Invariably, the crazy man shot, as he was in the midst of a feud with the neighboring family. Assorted Marshmallow felt the heat of the gunpowder and was no more.

The sad story of hatred and suicide had a bittersweet ending. The shotgun had blown the boy to bits, scattering colorful mini marshmallows across the sky. Assorted Marshmallow gave his life to the unknown creation of mini assorted marshmallows, which have become a treat for millions since his death.






THIS POST WAS BROUGHT TO YOU BY FRUSTRATION AT HATRED