Sunday, October 30, 2011
Sunday, October 23, 2011
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
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
Thursday, September 22, 2011
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
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
Sunday, September 11, 2011
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
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
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Friday, July 1, 2011
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
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