If you like my blog and you think its sexy c'mon people let me know

If you love my blog like you say you do then why don't you post comments?
If you love me then post a comment.
Because I love you and would post a comment on your blog......that's emonital manipulation and it's wrong of me....sorry....


I recently had a religious experience. In general I'm the sort of person who is prone to having experiences with the paranormal and supernatural, but this was an honest to god spiritual experience. I think this is right up there with seeing the virgin Mary in a grilled cheese sandwich, and I did happen to have a virgin Mary sighting in 1995 but no one believed me and my parents thought I was becoming a schizophrenic and tried to put me on medication. This is not like that time.

I was driving to a demo in Charleston, SC and I was already having an emotional time because I had PMS. Then the check engine light goes on in Teddydigital's car. So now I'm freaking out and really mad about the fact that I had to use my own car for business because the check engine light is on. So I call Teddydigital and tell him this and he tells me to go to the Toyota dealership and have them check it. That really made me mad because I had no idea where the Toyota dealership is and he didn't seemed the slightest bit concerned with my car breaking down on the side of the road and either
a) A mack truck running me over.
or
b) Getting raped and killed by insane meth addicts.
Both of which happen in this day and age all the time. It's actually quite common really. The only thing I could think to do was keep getting off at exits and seeing if I could find a service station. It was already 4:00 and I knew places would be closing soon. I got off at the next exit and there were a few old, and scary looking gas stations but no service stations and the gas stations looked like they were being manned by the very meth addicts I was trying to avoid. The next exit looked sketchy and I passed it by but the following exit looked hopeful. I started driving down a long road filled with a bunch of crap that wasn't helpful, I started to worry that if I went too far or took too many turns I might get lost. I began to despair. It seemed like all was lost. I started to feel scared and lonely and I instantly knew just what Jim Morrison was talking about when he said people look strange when you're a stranger so I did what people do when they are scared and lonely, I prayed.
I prayed God, I'm totally lost and I have no idea where the Toyota dealership is and I don't want to get attacked by meth addicts and sold into an underground ring of sex slaves so please help me. I am turning this over to you because I don't know what I should do.

Just as I was finished with the last word it was like a miracle, behind the tress was the Toyota dealership! It just came into sight and it was miraculous indeed. So I pulled over and the people there were so nice and they fixed my car and sent me on my way free of charge! A total spiritual experience and a good lesson in trusting the universe.

Like I said, it's no grilled cheese Virgin Mary, but it's something and it was way cool.

Send me your stories.

Do you want to be in a book?
Do you want to be famous and desirable to members of the opposite sex?
Do you want to be remembered forever?
Do you want your life to mean something?

If you answered yes to any of the above questions than I have the opportunity of a life time for you. Be a part of the craze that is sweeping the nation.

Send me any stories you have about crapping your pants and I will include it in my book Ooops, I crapped my pants. Even if you have never crapped your pants but just know someone who did, call me or email me the story. Even if you just heard a story from a friend who knew a guy who knew a guy, that will work too. The best stories are involving people who are totally sober when they crap their pants but drunk stories are OK too.

Don't hesitate and miss the opportunity to make American history.

*This is not a joke, call now!*

Michael Vick you're goin' down....

I want to write about a religious experience I had this week but I am too distracted by thoughts of Michael Vick. So let me just get it out of my system so I can go on with my day.

I totally want to scratch Michael Vick's eyes out! There I said it!! I don't care how that sounds because it is so true, and it's not like I don't say it all the time anyway. I told Teddydigital this and he said it would be impossible for me to scratch his eyes out because he would have bodyguards all around him. Even though I have been going to the gym a lot, I'm not sure I could take on several bodyguards at once. Maybe if I watch the fight scenes in Kill Bill I could get some moves but it seems unlikely I would be able to pull it off, especially because I don't really want to hurt anyone,. That is except for Michael Vick. I asked Teddydigital if he would help me scratch Michael Vick's eyes out. My plan was to make my self totally stiff , like a little ruler and then Teddydigital could hold my legs and push me through the body guards like a stick and then I could scratch his eyes out, afterwards Digital could just pull me back and we could book outta there. He said no. Digital said that if we see Michael Vick he is throwing me in the car and racing away. I don't understand. Don't our marriage vows mean anything to him? For better or for worse? To have and to hold your wife like a stick so she can scratch a man's eyes out? Well, I don't know about him, but I heard that part of our vows and I totally care about it too!

I guess in the long run it's better that I don't act on that impulse. I mean someone has to be the better person, and it's not like me mauling Vick brings back all the dogs he killed or erases all the suffering they went through. Tt just lands me a little time in the clink. Besides Vick's life is over. He keeps getting his ass handed to him everyday so really I need to focus my attention elsewhere. Now, you may be wondering who I should be focusing on? I am so glad you asked, but you're probably going to get bummed because I was so bummed when I found out I was going to have to start harassing Ellen DeGeneres! Yes that's right ELLEN DEGENERES! I saw on T.V. that she is the new spokesperson for Tide cold water detergent! Who makes Tide? PROCTER AND GAMBLE!!!! And what do PROCTER AND GAMBLE do? They ABUSE ANIMALS NON-STOP, they make MONKEYS DRINK TIDE!!!! Yes and you know its true! If Ellen was not always talking about how much she loves animals and blah blah blah then I might not be as upset but she totally claims to love animals. So why is she in bed with Procter and Gamble? I mean they are the worst of the worst. And don't think if you use Tom's of Maine you're in the clear because Procter and Gamble bought them out and now they own Tom's of Maine's ass. Tom from Maine is a sell out. Anyway, Ellen was on the T.V. just going on and on about how we can help the environment by washing our clothes in cold water but she never once mentioned that she was a corporate sell out and that she thinks it's OK to make monkeys drink laundry detergent. I was sad because up until that moment I liked Ellen, and I thought she cared about animals, but I guess I was wrong, she only cares about money.

I know, let's all call the studio and tell them how lame it is that Ellen makes monkeys drink Tide and that we won't watch her show or tolerate her until she quits working for Procter and Gamble. Let me know how it goes!

Ooops, I craped my pants!

I have decided to write a book that is going to put me on the map! I had a Divine inspiration and I know this is the book God wants me to write. The holy spirit moved me and I instantly knew what my life's work is to be. Don't anyone dare try and steal my idea. I will pummel you if you try. I mean it. If someone tries to publish a book filled with true stories about people crapping their pants, you're as good as dead. I will come to your book signing and cause a huge scene. Oh and I think you know I will, so don't test me. Anyway, let's move on ......

This world is in need of a good laugh and nothing is funnier than this topic. When all the media covers is sadness and despair, I will bring the public the rub they so desperately need.
Yes, I'm going to go around compiling story's about people crapping their pants!! It is just so funny I don't know how it won't be a best seller!!! This morning at the gym, Mary told me 2 stories about people crapping their pants and I was laughing so hard I almost wet my pants. I had to cross my legs and bend over I was laughing so hard. One of the stories wasn't exactly about a person who crapped in their pants, it was more like a girl was doing a massage at a client's house and after the massage she was gripped with horrible pains and ran to the bathroom only to have the worst diarrhea of her life. Then the toilet over- flowed and started to seep into the hallway! She was forced to grab the lady's towels and start sopping up the mess, all the while she was wearing little crocheted shoes that were totally saturated in crap and crap water. Of course the girl to whom this tragedy befell did not find it funny. I thought it was one of the best stories i had heard in a long time, that is until Mary told me story # 2 (pardon the pun).

The second story was about her ex-boyfriend and the unexpected events that unfolded in his pants while traveling home after a job interview. The story was so memorable that he told everyone he knew about it. Apparently her boyfriend had a job interview at some fancy place in Boston so he was dressed up in dapper men's wear. I am assuming he had on dress pants, a belt and fancy shoes with nice socks that matched, along with a shirt he tucked in. As he was headed back to his apartment, according to Mary's version of the story, he felt horrible pain and his "sphincter contracted". As he raced to the first door and fumbled with his keys, it was uncertain if he would make it up the stairs and to the toilet in time. He made it through the first door, but unfortunately by the time he hit the stairs it was to late. He lost control of his bowels and it was running down his legs and settling in his shoes. He pushed on determined to make it to his apartment but as he ran, crap was squirting out of his shoes. He told Mary he was so grossed out he was gaging as he literally ripped the clothes off his body and jumped in the shower. I'm sorry, but that would only happen to a guy. I bet he had little twinges of pain alerting him to the situation on hand way before he felt the contractions in his sphincter. It doesn't even matter because the story is so funny. I'm glad he procrastinated on going to the bathroom.

I don't want to give away too much of the book, so I'll just leave it at that for now.
If you have a great story about crapping your pants or of someone you know crapping their pants, please let me know.

Part 1 of a disturbing story

Everyone is always saying how there is no instruction book for life or raising kids or meeting my dad, although I can't help out with the first two, I do have quite a bit of experience with the later. If unprepared, interfacing with my father could be the most traumatic experience of your life. I'm serious. It's no joke. I think to avoid feeling like my life has been in vain I should at least write a manual that could be helpful to others, to help unsuspecting fools avoid some of the pitfalls and land mines. Many of the rules of conventional society do not apply here, and some very odd rules are to be strictly adhered to at times. It's not your fault that you don't know them. It has taken me 31 years to figure them out and I still mess up sometimes. Gandhi wrote a book called My Experiments with Truth. My book is called My Experiments with My Father.

At the moment, my father is living in barn. It's a long story, but the bottom line is that his house is not yet built and he found himself without a place to live, so instead of coming to stay with me and Teddydigital in our house with plenty of room, he moved into the barn. I offered my parents my spare room but they declined, saying they didn't want to intrude and so my mother is staying with a friend because she doesn't want to live in a barn. I felt really bad thinking about my dad having to live in a barn, especially because he refuses to leave it unattended. He thinks there are bands of roving crystal meth addicts just waiting for the chance to steal his stuff. When I went over to see his new living arrangements he gave me the grand tour. he has a twin bed in the middle of the floor and a picnic table that had his computer on it and tons of other crap that was unidentifiable. He has coolers that are filled with beverages and food. He is being kept company by 3 dogs. The whole situation is so bizarre, but that's his style and I think he rather enjoys having something to guard and the possibility of getting to use his gun. I asked him if he closed the barn doors at night and his reply was "Yes, and I set a booby trap so if an intruder tries to enter, by the time the doors are opened, my guns will be blazin'." What do you even say to that except "sounds great!"

When I told my dad I was going to write a story about him he told me I was not to ever mention anyone in our family by name and no one was ever to be traced back to this blog! You would think I was writing about the Kennedy's. My father also gave me a fake name I could call him, but that's just too silly, even for me. He also said that if I wrote about him on this blog that I would find myself in the sequel to the classic Bruce Lee film Fists of Fury. He also said that anyone who woke him up before his natural alarm clock would find themselves in that movie as well.

Well, maybe people who don't want me to write about them will find themselves in the classic movie Blog of Fury. It was a total box office hit! *A laugh riot sensation* says the New York Times.

To be cont......

News Flash..........

Here is a news flash, please pay attention: Counting carbs is so passe. It's sooo 1999. So please when you see me out doing a demo do not ask me how many carbs are in a Crispy Cat. I ain't gonna tell ya. If you're still under the meat industry's spell of "Carbs are bad and protein is good" then you have to lift up the wrapper and check for yourself.

I'm not trying to be a hater but I was bombarded by that question today when I was out doing a demo and quite frankly, it was getting on my nerves. It is just so dumb!! I am perplexed when people are genuinely concerned with carbs. It is such a scam, a total racket! That's why I said the other day that I feel bad for people in this country. It's like everyone is so trusting of the government, of course the meat industry is going to say if you eat more meat you will lose weight and then everyone is like yeah , lets stop eating fruit cause fruit has carbs and carbs make you fat! We hate fruit, fruit sucks! Let's eat a hot dog without the bun instead! For dessert we can have some yummy pork rinds!

Ummm.......News flash #2: If you think fruit makes you fat than you have a lot of other issues you should be looking at other than losing weight. One time a guy told me he was on a no carb diet and that he had not eaten any fruit for 6 years! He was so proud of that, he said it and then pat his rather round and rather hard looking belly. I bet his colon was like tubes of cement.

Small talk blows.

Small talk is the worst. I hate having small talk with people. It is really, really stupid. Not just stupid but boring and often times embarrassing. Everyone just shifts uncomfortably back and forth while they endure the nightmare.

Family functions are an occasion ripe with opportunities for hideous small talk. Especially when it's not your family, such as the wedding I attended last month with Teddydigital. It was his cousin's wedding and it was filled to the brim with people I didn't know and didn't invite to my wedding. Not to mention that at the actual wedding it was like a scene from a movie with stereotypical drunk Irish people abound: laughing, yelling, drinking and dancing with absolutely no rhythm whatsoever. They all claimed they wanted to meet me, but really I think they wanted to get a look at the bitch who didn't invite them to her wedding.

At the time of our wedding, Teddydigital and I should have had a press conference and let everyone know that we were having a small wedding with 25 people and not to take it personally, but we aren't going into debt and getting all stressed out so everyone can come stuff themselves and get drunk on our dime. Sorry but Digital has a HUGE family and if we invite one cousin we have to invite all 600 of them. Honestly, I didn't feel like spending my whole wedding day milling around having horrible small talk with everyone, I could just as easily do that at someone else's wedding and that is what I did.

Everyone asks the same boring questions, what do you do for work?.......how do you like living in Asheville?.....when are you gonna have kids? Oh Lord just take me now!

Since there was no vegetarian option offered, Teddydigital asked if they could make one (what a guy) as they served the limp veggies swimming in grease our table mates took notice. Amid steaks and obesity I was peppered with questions....you don't eat meat?......but you eat chicken right?.....but you have to eat meat if you ever want to get pregnant!...chicken is not meat!....Where do you get your protein from?....You need protein OH MY GOD YOU NEED PROTEIN!

I actually feel bad for the people in this country.

I knew I was the most active and most fit of everyone at that table, yet I was the one who was having their diet scrutinized. I no longer have the protein debate with people, it's pointless and predictable. I just kindly let them know that my Doctor fully supports my vegetarian diet and thinks it is healthier for growing a baby than a meat based diet. I also like when people tell me I'll have to give up running when I'm pregnant. Yeah, just start eating burgers and laying around on my couch all day catching gestational diabetes, that's the game plan. I just find it curious that people can be 50lbs overweight and waiting in line for a heart attack or stroke and have the balls to give a healthy and fit person shit because they don't want to eat cows. It would make better sense for that person to look at the non-cow eating person and ask about their lifestyle and diet, in hopes of saving their life which is obviously hanging in peril. Oh well.

Back to the topic of small talk. I have outlined some more interesting options to the usual boring questions. After all, I'm all about solutions.

Boring question: What do you do for work?
Interesting question: Would you date a transsexual if they were really hot?

Boring question: So, how do you like living in _______(fill in with the place you re-located to)
Interesting question: Have you ever had an STD?

Boring question: Wow, this is some weather were having, huh?!
Interesting question: Do you get a rash on your ass when you sweat to much? Cause you look like you would.

Boring question: Where do you get your protein from if you don't eat meat?
Boring answer: Soy and nuts to name a few.
Interesting answer answer: Semen, of course

Pages from my ill diary.

Dearest Diary,

I am ever so ill today. Why? Well its just one of those days, you know the sort of day I'm talking about. For example you might be on the road traveling and you come back to your office and you find someone has stolen your lamp and then you might get accused of changing the HTML on the company myspace and you don't even know what HTML is. Then someone in the warehouse may have spilled coffee all over your shipping forms and now you have to re-do them and then you get a major 'tude from the warehouse when you give them shit about it. Oh, and then your manager might think that throwing almonds at you while you work is funny even when it's obviously not. And the best is when you find a mug that boasts "Big time lover" on it and it's filled with a rotten smoothie and just haphazardly left on your desk. Rude. Rude and nasty. Nasty and vile. Vile and repugnant. Oh yes and don't forget smelly. Yes it smelled like a compost heap that was composting in hell. Roasting on the flames of stench.

That's all I wish to say on that topic.

I had many adventures on my travels this week including an almost encounter with David Sedaris. I was in Raleigh doing a demo, while I was chopping samples I saw a small, tidy man thru my bangs and I thought it was him. I got really excited because he is my literary role model. You can imagine my disappointment when I pushed the hair out of my face and discovered it wasn't David Sedaris after all, just some random small, tidy gay man, not the small tidy gay man I was hoping for. Oh well.

I also saw some weird polygamists in the hotel. They were stone cold munchin' the free continental breakfast. I couldn't stop staring. It was so Big Love. I have been meaning to write an essay titled"Polygamy gets the job done" but I haven't gotten around to it yet. Perhaps if I had sister wives I would have more time for my writing.

I guess if I had to have a sister wife I would pick my friend Jessica. She sort of already looks like a Mormon and I think she is pretty good with household responsibilities. I have full confidence that she has what it takes to live the principal. I would of course be first wife so I would ultimately call all the shots but she would be a great wing-man.

The only problem I have is the whole sharing a husband thing. I have never excelled at sharing or communal living for that matter. If I can't share an apartment with someone can I really share a husband? No matter how much I like someone I'm not going to let them sleep with Teddydigital. I also have not checked with TeddyDigital to see if he is even interested in becoming polygamists. I think really what I'm in the market for is not a sister wife but more of a maid/personal assistant. That would definitely give me more time to write and I wouldn't have to let some other woman sleep with my husband.

That's all I have to say on that topic as well.

Pages from my diary (zombie attacks)

Dear Diary,

Last night I was viciously attacked by zombies. Oh the horror, for reals. I didn't know that the stalking patterns of zombies were so intense, but they are! I should probably think of doing a zombie survival guide so others can read it and be prepared in case of an attack. Wow, I am such a nice person. My compassion and concern for others is overwhelming sometimes. I mean, there I was just putting on my PJ's and getting ready to watch my 2nd favorite show and eat some rainbow sherbet, when I fell prey to their fangs and claws. Trust me when I say fighting zombies is no picnic. No sir, it is not easy. The worst part is, you never know who is going to become a zombie, either!! And once a person has been infected you just have to forget you ever knew them because there is no recovery from zombie-itis once they bite you. Fortunately, I was not bitten by the zombies but I was re-attacked this morning by different zombies from the same zombie crew! I managed to survive and am no worse for the wear.

I read somewhere that zombies can sense when a woman is ovulating and that is when they are most prone to become violent. I think zombies hate the idea of babies because babies are so cute and happy and babies are notorious for getting a lot of attention and we all know that zombies LOVE attention and they don't like to share. Perhaps there is a new career for me on the horizon; Annie the Zombie Slayer!! Yes, I think that has a nice ring to it.

Slaying zombies, writing hilarious and informative blogs and spreading the word about the joys of eating yummy, vegan Crispy Cat candy bars may sound like a lot but it's all in a day's work for this gal.

In other news, my agent Carlos has promised to get me a MAC, but it hasn't happened yet. It is awful hard to write my book without it. Boo hoo. How can I be expected to be creative on a PC!?! Perhaps I can work slaying zombies on commission and save up for a MAC.

OK diary, I have to go now.

Don't be a player hater.

This is war.

Just when you think it's safe........

Bottom line: I was tomato bombed! Yes, the master of tomato bombing had the tables turned on her and was bombed. The twist is that it's not who you think.

So there I was sitting and having a chat with Julie Schantz when I noticed a package on my desk. It was a small brown box with a label addressed to me, just sitting there looking so innocent and so full of the promise of gifts and treats awaiting me inside. Yet it was also a tad suspicious considering that there was no postage on it. hmmm....an inner office present??? I think an inner office grudge gift is more like it.

I asked Joel's daughter Molly if she saw any one near my desk. It seemed so odd that I was sitting at the conference table so nearby and didn't see the interloper. Molly said the only one she saw near my desk was The Fig. I wasn't surprised. So with caution and trepidation I opened the box. There were a zillion little peanut things, (so unfriendly towards our environment) and my hand keep roving through, searching for a treat until my finger had intercourse with something rather unfortunate...a nasty, moldy, stinky, floppy, rotten tomato.
OH NO HE DIDN'T!!!!!!!

Oh yes he did. I shrieked at the sight and smell of moldy 'maters all over my fingers.
So I scooped it up and headed to the warehouse to do a little confronting. I saw my shot; I could have nailed his ass right there in the face with that mater', but I just couldn't do it. He was just moseying around, pretending not to know anything about the moldy 'mater and I just knew he would be a punk about it if I slammed a 'mater in his hair. He would get mad and then it really would be war. I then turned and looked at Eric. I could definitely feel OK throwing it on him, but he was already one step ahead of me and warned me not to do it because he was "wearing a baby blue shirt." That's what he said!!!! A baby blue shirt!!!!! On principal alone I should have then thrown it on him.

In the end I went outside and hurled it on the dumpster and watched it explode. It was a little anti-climactic to say the least. I do find it interesting however, that The Fig would waste food, considering I was harshly chided for basically taking food out of some gutter punk squatter kid's mouth with all my waste the week before.
I guess that's why they say *all is fair in love and war*.

Notes on a demo scandal.

While I was gone doing demos for Tree Huggin' Treats I kept a diary to document my travels. If you think the life of Demo Girl is without danger and excitement, think again. The life of Demo Girl is always intense. (Wait, that's Repo Man. Never mind).

Dear Diary,

My travels today were fraught with peril. First, I got lost going to Greenville and then I almost starved to death. Luckily, when I pulled over at a rest stop to panic I didn't have to forage for food in the vending machines or garbage cans. Instead, I busted open a box of the Crispy Cats and ate a mint coconut while composing myself on the curb.

After I placed several phone calls to several unhelpful people, I was on the road again and headed in the right direction...or so I thought.

Lost again after getting totally absorbed by the Sirius radio banter of the Martha Stewart channel, I pulled over to a gas station. It was really scary and I was sure I was going to get raped by the clerk. It was like a bad movie. I couldn't have made up a more stereotypical redneck. He was wearing a cut-off flannel shirt, and he had jail house looking tattoos and he was dipping. Dipping....need I say more? But I knew time was of the essence and so I sucked it up and asked if I was anywhere near I-85. After the clerk had a good chuckle about how lost I was he told me how to get to the highway. I really didn't want to use the bathroom there, but I was ready to pee my pants so I asked him if he had a restroom I could use. He pointed toward a dark hallway and told me it was at the end of the hall to the left. I swear I heard him laughing like Vincent Price as I walked towards my demise. Everything in my heart told me to get the hell out of there and just pee in my pants. Even though I felt like I was in the movie Hostel, I didn't have the heart to run screaming out of there. What if he was really a nice person and it hurt his feelings that I was afraid to use his bathroom? Was I really so superficial and stuck up that I was too good to pee in this man's gas station? The answer is yes, but it was too late at this point to turn back, so I just edged along until I made it to the bathroom. The cleanliness of the toilet was a nightmare so I used all my best yoga skills to hover over the Bowl of Doom, but my foot slipped on some slime and my ass ended up touching the seat!! It was not till I stood up that I realized that there was something gross and sticky on my ass cheek. I was totally distraught and decided that I really didn't want that part of my ass anymore and at the first possible opportunity I was going to cut it off. I truly felt at that point that merely washing it off would not suffice. No. This was too intense; the ass cheek would have to go. In the end I didn't cut it off, but I am seeking counseling for PTSD.
That's all I have for now, diary, but I will write more later after I have recouperated. I'm so happy I didn't get raped on this demo excursion. But I have been lifting weights at the gym in preparation for my upcoming arm wrestling contest, so it would be interesting to see if I could kick the ass of a grown man.
I think all the super sets I have been doing and all the Crispy Cats I have been eating to recover are about to pay off big time!