Wednesday, April 29, 2009


Happy Wednesday Chickens! First: some announcements. The Fabulous Jewelry Giveaway has been extended until tomorrow morning, so please see the post below to enter. Second: the post below is NOT SAFE FOR WORK and is FOR MATURE AUDIENCES ONLY. Please do not stop following me use Viewer Discretion. For Thystle those of you who do not mind a little bit of raunch, might I suggest you sit down to read this interview with a bottle of Jack Daniels handy, and perhaps do a shot each time Kraigg refers to his Twizzler of Love.

Many of you have written to me and asked "WHO IS THIS HYSTERICAL KREG PERSON?" after reading some of the comments he has left on this, and other blogs. Sometimes you even asked that without intending to alert the authorities. So I decided to go all Baba Wa Wa on his furry buttocks (I don't know that for a fact-just guessing.) and get you girls the true scoop. So here is my interview with Kraig, Kreg, Kregg or Craig......

1. First of all, how old are you and what does that make you in dog years?
Well, only about an inch or two when flaccid, but a good five or six inches when fully engorged with blood... Oh wait... For a second there, I thought you WOULDN'T want to waste one of your ten questions on something you could learn from just clicking on my profile. Well, fine. I am the cube root of 42570.697773213 years old. Or I will be sometime during the next week (There is probably some "slippage" in the numbers, due to my converting [365 minus days till my birthday] days into a percentage and then dropping every number four or more places past the decimal). By the way, that's the square root of 59740.647561 in dog years.
Rejected answer: Old enough to know better.

2. Where do you live and how close is the nearest HOOTERS to your house?
Hooters? Seriously? The food is atrocious and they won't knowingly let customers fondle the mams. When I conceptualize hell, I think of a Hooters with no alcohol that blares Barry Manilow's music.
Rejected answer: I live at Hooter's.

3. We know you are a musician, but what pays the bills when you aren't stripping or selling cocaine?
Gross violations of state and federal anti-child-labor laws. Although I can't ignore my late-flowering revenue streams from pyramid schemes, federal bailout fraud, and pimping.
Rejected answer: Fluffer.

4. Why did your first marriage end in ten words or less. (<---Question mark?) Hey-who made you the grammar police?
Misery. Love. Apathy. Complacency. Infidelity. Disappointment. Confusion. Resentment. Frustration. Time.
Rejected answer: Because we got divorced. Duh!

5. What was the last book you read and did you read it in the bathroom?
Hemingway's A Farewell To Arms was a gift from a stranger. Frankly, it is slow-going and boring as hell. I've always found him overly descriptive, to the point where plot development suffers. I've been reading it in a chair in my living room. I'd read it while on the can, if I wasn't regularly using both of my hands to hold my enormous genitalia up out of the water.
Rejected answer: Technically, you don't "read" coloring books.

6. If you were forced to make a choice, would you be blinded or castrated?
No, I wouldn't. In fact, I make choices all the time without being blinded or castrated.
At first, I thought maybe you were asking me to choose between my libido or my vision, but then I couldn't figure out a viable scenario in which that would transpire...
"Sir? Can you hear me? Sir? Sir? You've been in an auto accident. Sir? The firemen are coming with the jaws of life to pry you out of there. And... Sir? Can you hear me? Good. You appear to be pinned in the vehicle by your eyes and nutsack. Sir?" Nope. That doesn't wash.
"Ok, so that's one Burrito Gigante and two chorizo tacos. Will that be cash, eyeballs, or testicles?" Also a no-go.
Hmm... Perhaps a scenario in which I needed to pay for my as-of-yet non-existent child's college tuition? Or some Greek Tragedy re-enactment gone horribly awry?
Rejected answer: Couldn't you just hit me in the head with a hammer until my IQ reached double or single digits? Then I could finally enjoy NASCAR.

7. If you had to put a bumpersticker on your car what would it say?
"Some asshole made me put this bumper sticker on my car."
Rejected answer: "Penis for lease."

8. Who would you like our readers to set you up on a blind date with?
Well, technically if I have a say in the matter, I think by definition it is no longer a blind date. Perhaps instead you meant to ask ,"What are you looking for in a future partner/mate/friend/sexual dynamo?" Well, a sense of humor obviously is required. Intelligence is a must. Someone that challenges me to use every day to make myself a better person would be ideal. Interest in a variety of music would be an asset. Someone who takes care of themselves mentally and physically. Oh, and not having sex with other men behind my back would be a nice change.
Rejected answer: Courtney Love

9. What is your facination (sp) with Mommy Bloggers?
Nothing, per se. They seem not to get too bent out of shape at my off-color jokes, and their blogs are in English and make more sense than this one: Also, sometimes they send me free stuff.
To flip that one back onto you, what is Mommy Bloggers' fascination with me? I mean, other than the irresistible raw musk of my unbridled machismo.
Rejected answer: Got Milk?

10. Who is the hottest Mommy Blogger?
This one.
Rejected answer: Which ever Mommy Blogger is currently experiencing severe symptoms of menopause. But don't worry, in five minutes she'll be freezing. [RIMSHOT]

EDITOR'S NOTE: He obviously meant to write ME.

WAnt more KAIGG? Visit him here.

Monday, April 27, 2009


It is officially only THIRTEEN DAYS til Mom's Day, ladies. Last year I got one of the GREATEST GIFTS EVAH and now I am so excited to be able to offer it to one of you LUCKY DUCKIES.

This beautiful necklace can be yours courtesy of SimaG a fabulous jewelry artist from Etsy. Sima makes hand stamped silver jewelry that can be totally personalized. I love the idea of wearing my Spawn around my neck as something OTHER than the albatrosses they sometimes are. I kid. Sorta. Here are some of my other favorites:

What would you put on a toe ring?

Or another ring? I have one that says CREATE. I love it. Especially because I can cover part of it up and it says EAT.

Or a great friendship bracelet..maybe with your blog url on it?

Sima has a TON of really great, unique and pretty items to choose from and make TOTALLY PERSONAL at really affordable prices! She is one of the reasons why Etsy is a great place to shop. Would you like to win the necklace above personalized with your child's names? (Additional charms can be added for a minimal cost if you procreated more than twice.) Please visit Sima's shop and look through her items. Then come back here and leave ONE COMMENT (that's for you, Kristen) saying which piece of jewelry you liked the best and why. Link to this post on your own blog and get an extra TWO entries-just let me know you did so. Drawing will be held Wednesday morning-winner announced Wednesday afternoon. Good luck everybody! If you purchase something at Sima's shop because of this blog please let her know I sent you. Happy Monday!

Friday, April 24, 2009



The 80's: It was a time, when I lived in the Wild, Wild West and my most dreaded chore was having to Walk the Dinosaur. It was a time when I had yet to experience Losing My Religion.

Each summer, I would load up with my church youth group and travel to the wilds of Camp Lyle McLeod to experience the (trauma) of Girls Camp. There is a song that goes in parts 'Girls camp, is the very worst place in the world! The worst place for every living girl! The best place for losing all your curl'. Actually, I'm pretty sure that's NOT how it goes, but that's how we sang it because Girls Camp was a desolate waste land free of curling irons and Aqua Net where you had to wear a ONE PIECE bathing suit! even though you were like, TOTALLY working on your tan.

But it was a right of passage that simply couldn't be avoided. You went and you liked it, or, if you were like me, you packed your sleeping bags stuff stack with things like plastic wrap, icy hot and rubber snakes so that those around you were exactly, perfectly aware of your standing on being drug off to the middle of nowhere where you were subjected to things like DIRT and BUGS and NO BOYS and WASHING YOUR HAIR IN THE LAKE. It was hell, I tell you.

Now, don't get the impression that I didn't like "camp". I loved camp. I loved the part of camp that was being away from your mother and staying up late and walking to the mess hall and canoeing, all the things I knew from the summer camp that was my reward for not actually killing my sisters during the school year. Girls Camp on the other hand meant having my mother mere feet away, going to bed at dark, cooking our own food and having to walk three miles around the lake to the swimming dock. Not so delightful. Especially the year that Rachel first came to camp.

Rachel was a very, very sheltered child. She'd literally never spent a single night away from home. And because my mother was assistant camp director that year it was decided that I should be "buddied" with Rachel to "show her the ropes". So Rachel was assigned to my cabin, to my bunk bed, to my KP rotation, to my "duties" rotation, to my rec rotation. Basically she was up my ass and seriously cramping my sneaking-off-to-meet-the-boy scouts-from-the-next-camp action. And that was totally unacceptable. Rachel, clearly, needed to be punished.

Rachel, it was learned the first night, was terrified of the dark. I, on the other hand, am a ninja-like nymph of the night. At about 1am, Rachel began to whimper. Tell me a story or something she begged and so I complied.

"Well, you know how we like, totally passed the prison?" I began (we had) "Like, ten years ago, a guy like escaped from the prison and he was supposed to like, meet his ride on the highway and stuff? And their signal was he was going to croak like a frog, only he got lost and wound up down by the lake"

Our lake? She whispered

"Yeah, so anyway, these girls were here for Camp? I think they were from 9th ward? And they snuck out to like go to the boys side? Only, when they were walking along the lake they came across the escaped murder? And he like, TOTALLY freaked and killed them? And then threw their bodies into the lake?"

Then what happened? she moaned

"Well, the counselors heard the girls screaming? And one of them caught the guy, only as he tried to run away he like tripped? And broke his neck. And they say that his spirit still haunts these woods and croaks like a frog looking for his ride."

It does? she was totally buying all of this

"Yeah, and on the anniversary of the girls death, you can see their flash lights shining up from the lake looking for revenge"

At this point, she starts to wail and the counselor comes running to see whats the matter. All Rachel could sniffle out was that she was scared of the frogs, so Tina brought over her stereo but OF COURSE Rachel couldn't listen to "secular" music and the only other music to be found was a recording of the "Little Drummer Boy" back to back on both sides of the tape. Which played ALL DAMN NIGHT.

That, of course, made me even MORE annoyed. So the next night I snuck around until I'd stolen 3 flashlights, then crept into the mess tent and lifted a box of Ziploc bags. Quietly, I slipped into the lake and one by one splashed the flashlights into the lake where the frogs where the loudest.

When all of the adults were asleep and the little drummer boy was on his 8th march through the night, I whispered for Rachel to follow me. Quietly we crept down the path, Rachel trailing, whimpering behind me.

The closer we got to the lake the louder the frogs got until we pressed through the last of the bushes and there, floating just below the surface were the ghost lights.

Naturally Rachel started screaming her head off, took of running and whacked her head onto a low hanging tree branch. Counselors descended on us from all directions, hushing and soothing Rachel as I snuck off into the shrubs and crept back to my bunk. Where I "sleepily" awoke as Rachel was ushered back to bed, moaning about the frogs. The rest of camp, she never left the counselors side and the next year she opted not to return.

I was free to once again sneak off to steal Hershey bars and make out with pimply boys.

This stolen post comes with no permission whatsoever from Miss Thystle. If you enjoyed it as much as i did, please visit her blog and read about a way that YOU CAN HELP AN ADORABLE CHILD AND WIN A COACH BAG IN THE PROCESS. Please go help Emma.

Thursday, April 23, 2009

VouLeZ VouS CouCHeZ AVeC Moi?

3:00 PM Talk to Sexyhusbandomine whose plane has landed safely in Chicago. Speak in a calm, self assured way. Close the conversation with "I Love You."

11:30 PM Still awake. Lots of caffeine in that dark chocolate I had to consume to offset the loneliness due to missing my spouse.

1:00 AM Hear the soft pad pad of small feet coming to the side of my bed. Wonder what the repercussions would be of pretending to be dead. Wisely decide against it.

1:05 AM Hear the words: MOMMY, I CAN'T SLEEP BECAUSE I MISS DADDY . Accompany CBoy back into his room to sit on the end of his tiny bed. A postage stamp of a bed for a big boy.

1:15 AM Sitting in a space barely big enough for one ass cheek, let alone two. Neck bent at an unnatural angle. I think they call it "The Excorcist Pose" in Yoga.

1:25 AM Still sitting there. Trying to meditate. Decide to think about Orlando Bloom instead.

1:35 AM Make the mistake of flexing my right foot. Hear: MOM WHERE ARE YOU GOING?

1:48 AM I wish I had remembered to bring my phone with me. I could be twittering. About Orlando Bloom's hotness.

2:05 AM I think he's asleep. Finally. Slide off the bed slowwwwwwly, slowwwwwwwly....bump his leg with my thigh. Hear: MOM YOU PROMISED TO SIT WITH ME.

2:15 AM I wish SuperNanny would come and save me.

2:28 AM He's gotta be asleep by now. Slide off the bed again slowwwwwwwwwwwly, slowwwwwwwwwwwwly. Realize I have no feeling in my legs.

2:34 AM Step in cat vomit on the way to my room. Clean foot. Clean floor. Curse at cat.

2:45 AM Ahhhhhhh my own bed.

3:25 AM Hear the soft pad of tiny feet coming to the side of my bed again. Maybe if I hide under the covers he won't find me.


3:32 AM Realize he is serious when he turns down my offer of $20 bucks if he will just get in bed with me. Dimly experience an odd sense of DeJa Vu.

3:45 AM Sitting again on the end of the bed. I will be One With The Bed. I will Become The Bed. Fall asleep with head twisted backwards.

4:15 AM Wake up with my pajamas soaked in drool. Slowly and carefully get off bed and manage to make it back to my room. Ahhh, I Love You Big Bed and My Own Pillow.

4:55 AM Banana wakes up because Bad Mom forgot to make her pee before bedtime. Hear HELP! MOM! I HAVE STEPPED IN CAT THROW UP AND IT HAS SQOOSHED BETWEEN MY TOES.

5:00 AM Hear CBoy say as I wash Banana's foot off: MOM YOU SAID YOU WOULD SIT WITH ME.

5:30 AM Sit on end of bed again, contemplating ways to get rid of the cat.

5:45 AM Fall asleep with CBoys foot in my armpit.

7:00 AM Cheery Husband calls from Chicago to wake everybody up.

7:45 AM After listening to the phone ring for 45 minutes, I answer it finally, give Husband two minutes to say Good Morning, before trying to reach into the phone and trying to Strangle Him.

Wednesday, April 22, 2009


FEATURING (in order of appearance)
Jane! (Emptying the Nest)
Jen (JenX67)
Ruth (RPC)
Two friends who made the mistake of moving to the suburbs
Jane! Without glasses- just like superman
My ex-husband
The crowd I ran with in high school
My Very BEST Friend
Amy's adorable boy
Lady at my eyebrow waxing place
Guy who wants to date BJ
Lo and Beaux's Beautiful Little Girls
One of my summer flings
Thystle again cuz I like her so much
Thystle's Boyfriend
Kristen's Darling Daughter
Blue & Her Handsome Hubby
Paco, Racie Lover's pool boy
Random Roman Soldier
Wesley's Mommy
My Boss
Only the greatest blogger in the world since Dooce: Deb
Zak the Slacker
Friend in Washington
Scrappin Jenny
My Homeboy
Evil Twin's Wife
The Toothless Alcoholic
The Smartini Girls
Lucky Me
Sheila and Chris
The Spawn
Girl You Don't Take Home To Momma
My Lovah

If I left you off the list-please don't be sad! This is the first of many tributes to you AWESOME PEOPLE!!! Group Hug.

Monday, April 20, 2009

Do A DeaR

Dear Scale,

What did I ever do to you-- to have you torment me this way? Things cannot continue like this if you plan to go on living in a corner of my bathroom. I will drop you like a hot potato if you continue to blatantly LIE to me like you did this morning.

I'm serious. Cut it out.


Dear Ass,

Why do you continue to get bigger? Why couldn't you have stopped growing at age 17--you were the perfect size then--more apple than the pumpkin you've become.

Now I have to drag you everywhere.


Dear Brain,

I know it is Monday but please do not explode.

There's enough sticky stuff all over my keyboard as it is.


Dear Spawn,

I'm not that sad that Spring Break is over.

Your Mean Mom

Dear Chickens,

I know you are wondering where that promised slide show is. Coming pretty soon--honest. Just waiting for jane kreg zak BJ Johnny Depp the slackers to send their photos in.

It will be good.

Dear Sexyhusbandomine,

Please find the time tonight between cooking dinner and taking care of our Spawn and giving me foot rubs to make the slideshow for my blog. You might get lucky later. then again: there is a new episode of Desperate Housewives on TIVO, so maybe not.

Love you anyway!

Friday, April 17, 2009


TGIF Chickens!

Don't Be Shy! If you have not done so already, please send a JPEG and your url BY 6 PM TONIGHT (EST) to KVeasey at g mail dot com to be included in the Mudder's Tribute which will premiere Monday. If you don't have a MUD item to spotlight, just show us your pretty face! And speaking of pretty faces....

Sexyhusbandomine and I had the pleasure of meeting SHEILA and her husband CHRIS from Dallas last night. Sheila is well known for her funny comments, and it was great to meet an interweb friend in REAL LIFE, especially one that I don't have a restraining order against. I guess the secret is out now that I have published this picture: I am only as tall as a fourth grader and have to use a stool to reach the wine glasses. Click on the picture to enlarge--that is me behind the cookie jar, wearing a cardigan. Maybe they just grow em unusually large out there in cowboy country....

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

I oWe My SuCCeSS To THe SiZe oF My BLaDDeR

My friend Jenny and her lovely daughter Shannon asked:

I was born the poor black son of a sharecropper. I was born the daughter of a potter. Our basement had a kiln and a kickwheel in it, and whenever the local Girl Scout Troupe needed to make something to earn their Crafting Badge, they would come to our house.

One of my first memories of clay is shaping tombstones for the various dead bees and birds I buried in shoebox coffins lined with scraps of satin in the little graveyard I built in the woods behind our house. I would etch sentiments into the clay memorials like "Here lies Tweetie, He was a very nice bird, too bad the cat ate him." or "Here lies Walter the Robin, Hopefully the glass doors in Heaven will all be Open." I artfully arranged the headstones around a gravel path I constructed by removing a portion of our own driveway. One day, my brother decided to host a neighborhood softball game and chose to use the majority of my grave markers as bases. That put an end to my backyard boneyard and clay days.

Fast forward many years, and I was working as a Kindergarten teacher when the movie GHOST was released.

Despite rumors to the contrary, it was not Patrick Swayze and Unchained Melody that lead me to sign up for classes at a local studio the next week: it was Demi Moore's HAIR. In addition to plunking down a class deposit, I chopped my own locks off that same week. You would have thought I had learned a lesson from previous attempts to emulate Farrah's and Dorothy Hammil's hairdos, but no. That's another blog about how you should Never Copy a Celebrity's Hair unless you have that Celebrity's Face and Body.

Even though I had grown up with pottery, and some could argue that I had the genes of a potter, I was not naturally good at pottery. In fact, I pretty much Sucked Eggs. I know this because every time the instructor needed an example of what "Not To Do" he would always politely ask if he could hold up something I'd made.

But I was totally hooked in a Clay under the Fingernails, Glaze in your Hair, Always Dusty Shoes kind of way. And I told myself that I would work very hard at it for five years, and that if in five years I still Sucked Eggs, that I would quit.

But I had forgotten that I was Poor, and that pottery classes were expensive. I could not afford to make doorstopper after doorstopper and give them all away to friends and family. So even though I could barely shape an ashtray, I started putting my stuff on a card table and standing on a street corner every Saturday and Sunday, hoping to make enough money to be able to afford materials and classes for the week ahead. Seriously: many of my items looked like this:

Now imagine the above, glazed BROWN.

Anyhoo: New York is a heckuva town. People love a story and love to support someone who is going after their dreams. So miraculously, I managed to sell enough brown turdy looking pots to have three years go by, at which time I started to have some basic skill at the craft. And then I had MY FIRST REALLY BIG IDEA.

I graduated to bigger street fairs and started making CONDOM HOLDERS. My most popular ones were a jar with a big gherkin on the lid that read PROTECT YOUR PICKLE CUCUMBER EGGPLANT. I could not keep those decorative bedside condom holders in stock, I'm telling ya. So then I had my second REALLY BIG IDEA and I made these out of ceramic:

These are very big in New York-they are the cups we get our coffee in at the coffee carts. They were a huge hit and basically helped build the empire that MUD is now.

And really, this blog post is getting too long so I will wrap it up. But I will say that I started in pottery full of passion and resolve, and that in the end it is those two qualities that led me to success in the field. Along the way, I met a ton of people far more talented than I (HELLO JONATHAN ADLER.) Some went on to great success (DAMN YOU JONATHAN ADLER) and some did not. I just was the girl who used to stand at the table at the street fair, holding a pee for hours, afraid to miss a sale.

Tuesday, April 14, 2009


Happy Tuesday, Chickens.

I am compiling a new slide show and NEED YOUR HELP.

Please take a picture of yourself or your loved ones holding up a MUD item (if you don't have a Mud item what the heck is wrong with you make one out of cardboard. Include your name/url in the photo if possible-people want to see the face behind the comments. SEND JPEGS TO Sexyhusbandomine because while I am good at many things, computers is not one of them. His address is KVeasey at g mail dot com. Please submit by FRIDAY, APRIL 17.

In the comments below, please suggest a theme song for this blog. Tune in Monday to see if yours was chosen to accompany the images of ONIB readers across the globe.

Monday, April 13, 2009


Driving home last night.

BANANA: Why is the Lincoln Tunnel so long?
CBOY: Because that's how he freed the slaves.

Saturday, April 11, 2009

Thursday, April 09, 2009


Happy Thursday, Chickens!

It's time to start chipping away at the blog topics you suggested because you wanted free stuff because you are so sincerely interested.

Among her other 143 submissions, Kristin wanted to know:

Well Kristin, for one thing, women bloggers will ask for help when they are lost on the internet.

Women bloggers remember EVERYTHING. Male bloggers forget the details. That's why men need Instant Replays in sports.

Women bloggers tend to be introspective: Am I a Good Mom and Wife? Am I Emotionally and Creatively Fulfilled?
Men bloggers are outrospective: Did My Team Win? Let's Talk About My Car.

If a single female blogger breaks up with a man she has been dating, she will cry, eat a pint of ice cream, call a girlfriend, and post a poem on her blog entitled "Why All Men are Idiots."
If a single male blogger breaks up with a girl he has been dating, he will say nothing, get drunk a week later and post a blog in which he calls her a floozy and says she ruined his life. Then he will contact her through Facebook to see if they can get back together.

Women bloggers love cats.
Male Bloggers say they love cats, but when nobody's looking, male bloggers kick cats.


Male bloggers can blog standing up.

Tuesday, April 07, 2009

YoU TaLKiN To Me? YoU TaLKin To Me?

in which CBoy clones himself, re-enacts scenes from classic movies, and pinches non existent belly fat.


Good Morning, Chickens.

Very random things today, in an effort to clear some of my back logged mail.

1. Alex the Multi Millionaire (see post below) emailed me! For reals! I wrote him back and told him all about my single friend BJ and how she is a Dallas Working Mom, with three dogs, and describes herself as a Chardonnay drinking Democrat, loves Cozumel, who hates the song "The Wreck of the Edmond Fitzgerald" , Would only buy sushi to fish with and she doesn't fish, Is a pretty great cook, and has a glass which is always more than half full. She doesn't have much time for people with half empty leaky glasses. Her favorite saying is "Be a fountain, not a drain.

Then, for good measure, I put a picture of the Thystle's rack. Because I thought it sweetened the deal, and because there were so many fine choices to pick from on Google Images.

Then, I asked for his address.

He hasn't replied.

What's Up With That?

2. Caption this photo for a chance to win a $5.00 Starbucks gift card. Thanks to Tracey for submitting it.

3. Some of the funniest captions will probably come from KREG. Who is this man with the sharp wit and potty mouth? Here is a video of him singing a little ditty he wrote. That's a beer stein I made sitting on his keyboard. It says "Drink Up, There's People In China Who are Sober." He says he drinks water out of it. Same way I use a wine glass for applejuice.

4. After you watch the video and write your caption, head over to Thystle's place and tell her HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! She is an AGELESS BEAUTY. At least, that's her story and she's sticking to it.

5. What's up with the anonymous commentors leaving comments like this:




OBVIOUSLY I AM A BIG DEAL IN JAPAN. Me and Hillary Duff. You should see them go crazy for us bothwhen we land in Tokyo.

6. The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
Of the big lake they call Gitche Gumee
Superior, they say, never gives up her dead
When the gales of November come early.
Some PEOPLE don't know a MASTERPIECE OF STAGGERING GENIUS when they hear one on AM radio.

Friday, April 03, 2009

A MiLLioNaiRe PuTS HiS LiPS On Me (oK, My MuG)

I was watching Millionaire Matchmaker on Bravo last night because it is television crack I am personally so concerned with the Plight of The Millionaire Male. Chickens, wake up and get involved! These poor unloved Richie Riches could end up in Really Expensive Nursing Homes with only 3 or 4 private nurses dressed in candystriper outfits--I think this is a cause we can ALL get behind.

One of the episodes I watched last night featured Millionaire Alex Edelstein. There I was, thinking how freeking loaded nice and smart and worthy of True Love he was, when what do I spot on his desk but THIS:

I made that mug about a bazillion years ago, Chickens! What a thrill to know that a man like Alex, who can have the finest of the fine, drinks from a mug I made EVEN THOUGH IT HAS A HONKING CHIP IN IT.

I immediately emailed him and asked for a loan told him I would repair his mug, but what I really want to do is fix him up with my sister. If I had a sister who was single, that is. And I offered that out of the hope he would give me something from Tiffanys goodness of my heart. Those poor, poor Millionaires: can't find love and have to drink out of chipped mugs. I think we will need to start a For Profit. Who's with me?

Note: Everyone who commented in the post below and suggested blog topics gets a little sumpin sumpin. Because the coffee man was feeling very generous this morning and I have LOTS of stuff. You are all winners! Email me your mailing address at l v mud at a o l dot c o m.

Wednesday, April 01, 2009

BLoG BaiLouT

Hola Chickens!

Look at these beautiful Easter cards that Stephanie sent me from A Paper Buffet!

I love their playful patterns & colors. To see her other wonderful and whimsical work, please visit her Etsy shop. Please tell her I sent you, and for gosh sakes wipe your feet and mind your manners.

AND NOW YOU KNOW: I will accept free stuff. SOMEONE (besides Kristin) has to be willing to take one for the team, and open themselves up to mana from the blogosphere. (Are You Listening Bank of America?) I am just putting it out there that I am currently R E C E P T I V E. And I'm not just saying that because someone left a copy of The Secret in the bathroom. I'll pretty much accept anything except used undergarments; and I can make an exception for even those if you are a close personal friend of Keanu Reeves.

See Chickens? Wednesday is better already, isn't it?

And speaking of Sending Me Free Stuff, David from Where Is This Guy has made a puzzle of Best Blogs Evah-and I am to the right of DOOCE! Find Me. Check it out here. and tell David what a clever little bugger he is.

Finally- I am doing some serious Spring Cleaning. Which means lots of PRIZES & GIVE AWAYS for YOU!!! Many winners chosen at random by the guy who works at the coffee cart on the corner, on Friday 4/3. Enter as many times as you wish--one comment at a time, suggest A BLOG TOPIC FOR ME TO WRITE ABOUT. I promise I will try to raise interest rates as a result of your contributions. Vive La Blogocracy!