This might break the Internet. Just shut it right down, y’all.
This is why we can’t have nice things, y’all. It is officially time to call a cab and go home because you are obviously drunk, Internet. Last one online, turn off the lights.
Scary than Friday the 13th. More real than Survivor. It’s Bib!
You thought I was kidding when I said I was afraid of the Michelin Man. I was so not kidding. In fact, thanks to the amazing photographic talents of my good friend, lawyermama, the moment that I tried to overcome my fear was caught moment by moment on film. Below the image collage is a play by play of the moment–with my personal commentary on each photo underneath the set.
Do not judge me. Or I will sent Bib to your house to…under inflate all of your tires. And that is BAD!
(photo set courtesy of lawyermama–who totally rocks!)
So here is the image by image captions:
- 1- Go ahead and put your hands out, Bib. I am not coming to you.
- 2- Okay, I will come, but I won’t like it.
- 3- LOOK! I am grabbing hands with you and you are not trying to smother me with your white rolls of Bib horror!
- 4- Awwww, see! I can hug you. I am totally okay.
- 5- Oh My Gawd! I hugged you! I have to go. NOW. YOU STAY!
- 6- Please save me! Don’t let him get me. Oh, the horrors of the puffy Michelin Man! Save me!
- 7- You people are horrible to traumatize me like this! I want my mommy.
- 8- Okay, seriously. I am not crying. There is something in my eye.
- 9- Well, maybe it was a little funny. See? Totally trying to laugh about it. (Still? NOT FUNNY!)
So there you go. I have outed myself as a total freak when it comes to the Michelin Man. Deal with it. At least my tires are fully inflated AND I got to drive like a professional driver on a closed course with Raymond.
Oh, and as a token of good will, I have and will keep my Bib (Michelin Man) keychain on my keys to remind me of our moments together. (Not like I will forget.)
The Question for the Masses
Question:
Do you think that the (and forgive me for this word, I don’t know a better replacement) blogosphere is overall a good place or overall a bad place?
I am serious here.
Is it a place where you can be yourself or a place where you better watch your back because someone can and will turn on you if they can?
Is it a place where you can make real friends or a place where you can talk to people who will forget you as soon as you don’t IM them after a week?
Is it a place where the people you do make friends with can sustain a friendship or is it a place where you can find out that the people you thought you knew you really don’t know at all as they are willing to dis you when given a chance?
Is it a place you feel free in or a place you feel stifled?
I really want to know what you think.
And if you feel that it is a good place, are you a blogger? If you blog, do you feel you owe anyone who asks that you defend your thoughts, actions or writings deserves an answer until they feel satisfied or do you feel that what you have written for years suffices as a testament to who you are?
Finally, are you willing to ignore it when you see a lynch mob forming online or do you jump in knowing you will be targeted next?
Like I asked when I started this:
Do you think that the (and forgive me for this word, I don’t know a better replacement) blogosphere is overall a good place or overall a bad place?
Too bizarre a dream even for ME
As you have read, I have been under a lot of stress lately. A LOT. When this happens, I tend to have bizarre dreams. Freaky deaky ones. The thing with me, even though they are so unusual, I have to ask the next day or so if it actually happened. My husband is used to this and ignores me. I mean, how could one woman think that most of the things her mind creates is real. Take for instance this conversation with my husband this morning.
Me: I had really weird dreams the other night.
Him: And this is different how?
Me: I dunno. I mean, sometimes I know they are weird, but sometimes they are so real my mind begins to think of them as actually memories sometimes.
Him: Mmmmhmmmmm (such a noncommital answer!)
Me: Like take for instance that time I hit you really hard that morning because you said you were going out on a business dinner and ended up taking a hot exgirlfriend to the zoo and bought her all of those really expensive shitty souveniers that I want, but you always tell me no. Remember that? Because you really were out late that night and my mind got it jumbled and stuff.
Him: Yes, I remember your UNCALLED for arm frogging. So, what does that have to do with anything?
Me: Well, you know how Chelle (my sister for those of you just joining us) spent that entire week reading nothing but the gossip rags and trash papers? Remember how I always interrupted what you were doing to shout out a new star who was pregnant or who was cheating on who and the freakishly wacked out world of Hollywood?
Him: Is there a point to this?
Me: There is. I just…well, I just need clarification because something I think I read I might not really read because it is way out there and well, I want to ask you to see if you remember me shouting it out to you. Remember? You chose to be the SANE one in this relationship!
Him: I am SO afraid to ask this, but what is your question? (Then he actually physically flinched. Actually FLINCHED from my forthcoming words.)
Me: Okay I just need to know if I read it or dreamed it. Okay? No judgements.
Him: What it is you think you know but you are not sure but already *I* am sure it was a dream, but tell me anyway.
Me: Okay, well…it’s like this. I think but am not sure so I am totally not speaking from the truth and would never say anything bad about someone so ..well so hip and cool and shit, but did I tell you at some point that Andrew Shue has a blue penis? I mean, freaky and strange, but I have to know.
Him: You are serious, aren’t you? Tell me you are not serious. I mean it. Tell me that was a joke.
Me: *giggling nervously* Of COURSE it is a joke. I mean that is impossible! Completely! I adore him and would never believe it even if someone said that. Totally not true. Totally a joke. A JOKE. I mean, I support the man and his projects. ESPECIALLY that new one that I am so excited about. See? Me laughing! See?
Him: Therapy, Jenn. Therapy.
Me: I know. I know. Because truly, on ANYONE blue penises and bullocks would be too traumatic! Even for me.
Him: Do not blog this. Don’t Jenn. I mean it.
Me: Of course I won’t. I never missed an episode of Mel*rose Place. I love *Andrew. **Would never dream of blogging something so ludacris!
* Andrew, it was a dream. No hard feelings? I mean, Matthew McConaughey still loves me when I dreamed he stole me away to make me his love slave. And that whole debacle about George Clooney dressing like a woman dream? Totally not true and he still loves me.
** No one tell Clint that I blogged this, mmmkay?
Secrets revealed
If you have been around here for very long (as in since last Christmas), it should not come as a surprise that I love me some HeatMiser. There is just something about that hot little fellow.
So, it looks like the Star may have gotten wind of a deep dark secret that I thought would never come back to haunt me. I was sure I paid off the right people. However, I suppose I should be the one to tell you, my dear readers.
Years ago, in a moment of heated passion, I gave into my longing for Heat Miser. Oh, it was a short-lived little fling. He was just too hot for me to handle. (You know. That whole “whatever he touches starts to melt in his clutch” thing got old fast. ) Though I tried so hard to keep it a secret, the truth has been revealed.
There was as love child. Yes, my friends, I am the mother to Heat Miser’s bastard son.
See for yourself.
Heat Miser:
Me
Tax free does not mean totally FREE, people
This weekend in Texas was the Texas Sales Tax Holiday which basically means that there are no taxes on certain items that the state feels are helpful for going back to school. There is a complete list of things that will be tax-free (under $100 per item) to use as a guide. But wait, I am not here to advertise it. (That would be totally pointless considering it is after 11:00pm on the last day of the “holiday” weekend.)
You would think that it is a massive 75% off sale or a free-for-all at the Krispy Kreme next to a Weight Watchers meeting. (Hey, I can joke. I went to WW.) People lose their ever-lovin’ minds to be sure to get to the stores and snap up those great bargains.
Great bargains.
Correct me if I am wrong, but no taxes would pretty much save you what? About $8 for every $100 you spend? Now, I am all about frugal. I have been living the life of the unemployed for 2 years. I love me a bargain, people. But I have my limits.
For instance, I will not go to a clearance sale on a Saturday if the same sale will be available on the following Sunday or the Friday prior. Insane people go out for sales on Saturdays. I will, however, go to an after Thanksgiving sale, but only if I can get there early, have coffee and no children. (I mean, that is the Super Bowl of Sales. It is not for amateurs or the weak of heart. It is also not for children or men who are not willing to engage in a little hand to hand combat over the last item on a shelf.)
But, we are not talking about Super Sales. We are talking about $8 for every $100 you spend and it isn’t even the good stuff. Most of the stuff isn’t even on sale. Suffice it so say, I don’t see the need to battle the masses for this meager savings. Each year, I find out what weekend the sale will be and I head to a mall early that Friday while most people are at work or not remembering that the “holiday” has started. I see if there is anything worth my money and I shop accordingly. Basically, I do not put on combat gear and head to the local Wal-Mart.
So, today, Gabriella and I are helping out a friend and I realized I needed to pick up a few things on the way home. Where do I go? Where do I find myself? What god-forsaken, straight from the pits of hell store did I unknowingly find myself walking into before remembering what weekend this was? Say it with me. Wal-mart.
For the love of all that is bargain shopping, I think I may have witnessed the chaos that just may erupt if the world ever ends in my lifetime. People everywhere. Every language known to man (and a few not yet documented) were represented. People of every age where crowded into the clostophobic aisles that are characteristic of WalMart and are all trying to purchase the same things. Never have I witnessed the carnage that was the result of the assault on the clothing departments of this WalMart. Perhaps I am mistaken and a bomb actually did go off, thus showering the store with clothing, but somehow I doubt it.
I still have no idea why the idea of tax-free makes people see dollar signs like that. It isn’t like it is a massive savings. I think I am going to just occasionally put $1 into a jar over the next year. Then,when next year’s tax-free weekend occurs, I am going to go on a guilt-free, chaos free, crowd free (rather than tax-free), shopping spree the following weekend when the crazies have gone back home!