A few years ago some genius, and I do mean genius, created a site called “Jeff Goldblum is watching you poop.com. The site is no longer active, but from my extensive research- (one quick google search) it seems that the whole site was simply dedicated to this picture.

I think there was even a movement to try to get people to print out the picture and post it in bathroom stalls around the world. I know the site is no longer active, but I think I’m going to do it anyway. Maybe I can restart the movement… because goshdarnit, I would die of laughter if I went into a bathroom and Jeff Goldblum was watching me poop.

Or maybe I should switch it up a bit.

This might sound strange, but I’ve always thought that Jeff Goldblum looks nearly identical to Orlando Jones, yaknow- except for that whole skin color thing. So I’m thinking we intensify the whole movement and replace Mr. Goldblum with his identical non-twin…

But then again, my mom (always one to tell it like it is) once told my friend Moops that he looks exactly like Jeff Goldblum… So maybe I should go the obscure route and use his pic instead…

(Isn’t it incredibly absurd that 3 people can look so much alike-ish?!?)

So I think you should all print out that last pic and hang it up in restrooms worldwide. I’m thinking this could really catch on. Or not…

And just so you know…

Dearest Ketchup,

Is Ketchup OK? Or do you prefer Catsup? For now we’ll stick with Ketchup…

I’m not trying to come across like a creepy fan here, but I feel like it’s time I came clean with you about a few things.

I heart cuddling.

 I have been a huge, HUGE fan of yours for a  very very VERY long time, and I think it’s time you understood the extent of my love for you.

Just so you know, I’ve only written a few fan letters in my life. One was to Jonathon Taylor Thomas, one was to Keith Coogan (yes this Keith Coogan) (and it may have been like last year on Myspace) (Because I LOVE him and ”the dishes are done, man”) and one was to Seth Green. I was really fucked up watching Robot Chicken when I wrote the Seth Green one, so I’m not even sure it should count. I haven’t EVEN written John Cusack a fan note yet. Oh I’ve sent him a few ambien induced tweets, but still. What I’m trying to say is, Ketchup, is that you are one of the elite.

We could pick out yummy recipes together.

I’ll be honest with you, it started out as an innocent crush. Growing up, I would casually put you on fish sticks and chicken nuggets. Even now, when the idea of fish sticks pretty much makes me want to hurl, I would probably eat them if there was enough of you smothered on them. I would probably eat anything with enough of you smothered on it. Maybe not snails or poop though. I have to draw the line somewhere.

I could teach you how to dance...

I know part of the appeal may come from the fact that my grandparents never really approved. On Thanksgiving, my cousins and I would have to hide you under the dinner table because they thought it was innapropriate to eat you at the table. I still have to do the same whenever I go out to eat steak dinners, apparantly its even rude to ask for you. But I do every time.

NOM NOM NOM

I’m pretty poor, Ketchup, but  no matter how poor I get- I cannot go without you. I always buy the big bottle, though I’ll take you whatever way I can get you. I especially love the Whataburger **fancy ketchup. If it ever came down to it, I might be willing to hold up a Whataburger to get a hold of you.

ODE TO KETCHUP

I put you on chicken, I put you on beans.

I put you on eggs, I put you on greens.

 I put you on potatoes-fried, mashed and baked,

I put you on sandwiches and on  yummy crab cakes.

 I put you on carrots, I put you on rice-

I bet if I put you on cookies it would even taste nice.

Whether it’s Heinz 57,  Hunts or store-brand

I’ll always put you first, ahead of any man.

Or on my man? That might be fun too…

But even if I did, I’d only be thinking of you.

I could probably go on here forever, but there are some things I want to save for the bedroom kitchen.  I kid. Although, you have may heard that on a recent trip to Uncle Julio’s I told my tamale that I would have sex with it if it had ketchup on it, but I want to take this slow. That’s how much I like you.

That being said, I really hope you’ll get back to me so we can “catch up.”

hahaha

I’m sure you get that all the time. I really do hope you know I’m being genuine and  I’m not sort of tomatHOE.

Ok I’ll stop.

I love you,

CarissaJaded (your biggest fan)

P.S.

I know this might be a little weird for you, but I also love cheese and tabasco sauce so I was thinking  that maybe one of these days… nevermind.

**If you do not know about Whataburger fancy ketchup please send me your address and I will send you one. I’m serious. In fact I’ll do a giveaway. Yeah…. comment here and one of you will get a fancy ketchup in the mail.

**I’m serious about the ketchup, but there will be an ACTUAL giveaway later this week. It’s supercool and I’m really excited about it so stay tuned.

Make sure you check out Lilu’s site, and check out her TMI Thursday archives for all sorts of hilarity!

I’m gonna try to keep this short today, mostly due to the fact that I’m busy packing for my move next weekend. Just kidding. I haven’t started packing yet silly face. I’m just extremely ADD and have been sitting here in front of my computer for the last 4 hours, checking facebook, twitter, and watching stupid tv shows… and now that it’s 11:15 and I’m already ambiened up,  I don’t think I have many coherent minutes left in me.

My senior year of college I took an extensive Spanish class, which basically meant 3 hours of non-stop Spanish, 3 days a week. It was miserable.

What could possibly make 3 hours of abburido espanol even more excruciating?

I’ll tell you.

It was one of the first weeks of class, before I had spent a million hours with my fellow classmates and didn’t know anyone very well yet. I sat down, and as usual- attempted to quickly copy the answers from the back of the workbook. Which is something that I don’t understand, but I won’t get into that today.

So I’m sitting there when I notice a peculiar scent. A very pungent scent. To be more exact, it was of the “came from the ass region” variety.

I looked around, not sure whether I should bring it up, as I didn’t know who, or what, it had come from. It was pretty clear from the fact that it wasn’t waning, that someone hadn’t just broke wind.

I examined all of my neighbors, trying to figure out which one of them would be most likely not to wipe very well.

As I looked around the room, I could tell that I wasn’t the only person who was offended by the poo smell. A few people around me were snickering and looking around for the culprit.

I finally decided to speak up, and I asked the boys next to me, jokingly, if they had shit their pants. After a few minutes, pretty much the entire class was talking about the awful smell.

The teacher eventually asked what all the chatter was about. Everyone started laughing, and leave it to my big mouth to speak up.

“Ummmm… something smells REALLY bad in here.”

It was about that time that the quiet boy sitting behind me finally decided to speak up.

“Uh.. well it’s probably because you have a whole load of poop on the bottom of your shoe…”

I looked down at the foot that I had crossed around my knee, and sure enough… that sumofabiznitch was correct. There was a big load of dog shit on the bottom of my shoe.

Awesome.

Which leads me to last night.

I’m sitting here, at my computer, one leg up on the seat with my knee hugged against my chest like I always do… typing up a post- just as I am now… when I smell something rancid. My two boy roommates were both in the room, so I go ahead and assume it was one of them.

After a few more minutes the smell did not dissipate. I came to the conclusion that it seemed to be coming from me!

I hadn’t passed gas that I was aware of, but I decided to sit for a few more moments just to make sure.

I keep my shit clean people. I mean that as much as one can mean that. I may not shower EVERY day, but I’m clean.

Even so, the scent was coming from somewhere so close to my, well my nether-region, that I was sure of. Eventually, I decided to suck it up and bend my head down to get a closer smell.

EWWWWWWW

Something wasn’t right. I went to the bathroom to check things out, as anyone would in my situation, and came out even more confused. I smelled just fine.

I came back to my desk and assumed my position and the smell was back. Suddenly, I remembered the Spanish class incident and checked my shoe.

All was right in the world once again.

My ass didn’t smell.

There was poo on my shoe.

WIN!!!

In the mean time though, I figured it was time to check out my google search terms. Every so once in a while, I like to check and see how people are ending up on my blog. I have a huge heart, as you know, and I really hate for people to end up on my page and leave empty-handed. Therefore, I will make yet another attempt of satisfying people’s search terms, just in case they end up back here with the same problems/questions. I have to say, some of you people are extremely fucked up. Even more so than I am!

But here goes!

Make him suck it: I’m not exactly sure what “it” you are speaking of, but girl (or boy) if all else fails, try peanut butter. There is a girl in every high school who would give you the same advice, I’m sure.

I’m in a great mood all day cause I’ve been slapping my troubles away: I do hear it helps!! I’m not sure what you’re looking for, since your already in a good mood… but as far as advice goes, use lube to avoid chaffing!!

Dreaming of poo: MEEEE TOOOO!!!!! I have a recurring “shit myself at work” dream!!  I’ve done a little research on this matter myself, as it has been quite disturbing. I’ve found out that dreaming of poo usually means that there is something in your life that you need to discard of. Or you might see yourself as dirty or negative, which I don’t… so I’m not sure why I have this. According to Freud, “feces is related to possession, pride, shame, money/financial matters, or aggressive acts. So to dream that you are playing with feces, symbolizes your anxiety over money matters and financial security. ” That, I can see.

Stalk Carissa Plano blog: Not cool… not cool at all dude. I dunno who you are, but if you are reading this you are not welcome. The same goes for those who got here searching Carissa Plano blog, Carissa Jade from Waco website, and Hot big boob Carissa Plano….

Scare cockatoos using electricity: I reallllllllly wish I could be more helpful on this one, because I would like to know myself!!! My mom has one of these horribly annoying creatures, and as far as I can tell, your best bet would be to actually stick it’s foot in a socket. I’ll let you know how it goes next time I visit my mom.

Sexy eye patch: Well since you most likely weren’t looking for a picture of me as a child, you were clearly looking for this picture that my mom photo-shopped and sent to me last week. Righhhtt? She thought it was clever because I used to wear an eye patch and all…. hmmph.

Show me a photo of what a condom looks like: Glad to be at your service. DONE.

I am totally jaded after my last relationships and have decided to be alone forever: Hmmm… I feel ya there. But you know what? Chin up young person, (unless your old, mean and dirty) chances are you are just in a very bad mood and things will look better in a day or two. I say, get all dressed up, go to a bar, and find yourself a quick fix. Who am I kidding? That never works. Eat a gallon of ice cream, drink a big bottle of wine, take a hot bath, and listen to some Death Cab… I don’t know if it will help anything, but that’s what I do when I’m feeling that way, and if nothing else- I get a good therepeutic cry out of it!

Why do i like pissing on myself?: Probably because you are either very weird or very cold.

Santa i want the list of all bad girls: Well I don’t have a list of all of them, but you are off to a good start here! I suggest try some porn sites or ask some of those crazy bitches from Jersey Shore.

Making carissa s boobs feel good: Well somebody sure is considerate!!! Lets start with a comfy bra, or if we’re really trying to make them feel good then no bra. Warmth is always good, so if you’ve got cold hands, then stay away! And as far as anything else goes, I’ll tell you if it doesn’t feel nice. Thankyouverymuch.

Ambien writing: I don’t recommend it, or you might end up with something as awful as this post.

What does it mean when some one says and so is your face? It doesn’t matter WHAT it means, all you need to know is that it WORKS EVERY TIME!!

Good hard things to hump maybe a couch: Yes a couch is a good place to start. Also you might want to try the side of a chair, the console of your car, a picnic table bench, a balance beam, a traffic cone, a bar stool, a piano bench, a  microphone,  a teddy ruxpin… Ok I’ve said to much. Good Luck!

Chad kroeger is the face of all the things wrong with this planet: I suppose you are looking for affirmation, and if this is the case then HELL YES, you are correct.

Smell dirty nasty jock butthole –For serious yall, SIX people got here by this search term in December. I would say that you are looking to smell a nasty jock buttholes, the first place you should look is a locker room….

After college she has an enema movie: I’m working on it!! Gimme a few months!

Why does my peepee stick up: I think you might have a Boner. If you don’t know what that is, ask your mommy.

John Cusack’s girlfriend/John Cusack’s girlfriend 2009/ who dates John Cusack: You found her bitches!!!!

Today I’m doing my first guest TMI post ever over at one of my favorite bloggers and new-found friend Tricia’s page, One Step to Recovery; One giant Step to OMG. Please head over there and show both of us some love, and make sure you read some of Tricia’s past posts and follow her blog! You won’t regret it, she is entertaining, honest, and completely made of awesome!

And speaking of guest posts… I have no idea how, but my best friend LA has yet again talked me into letting her post another TMI post ABOUT ME. I thought that she had already shared the most embarrassing “shit” she had in her vault (about the time I shit all in her car) but it turns out- I don’t remember my own embarrassing stories very well. So without further adoodoo, I hand the mic over to LA, and I’m gonna go cry and eat a bag of oreos.

As Lilu always says: ***Alright, folks, you know the rules. Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!

Make sure you check out Lilu’s site today for her special post secret TMI edition, and check out her TMI Thursday archives for all sorts of hilarity!

Hola friends of Carissajaded,

This is now my second attempt at a guest blog for Carissajaded, and let’s hope this one reads a little better than the last. My previous entry may have been written on the eve of my birthday after a bit of celebrating.

I think that it has been said before that CJ and I have a bit of an “unhealthy” relationship. I may even have a broken engagement to show for it… my bad. Regardless, I wouldn’t trade it for the world. That being said, there have been a few instances when that line between being mere friends, and the things that you only tell/do/keep to yourself has been crossed. This is definitely an example of that.

It was long time ago in college when this incident took place. In those days we were busy drinking, eating, smoking, staying up late and doing countless other things to our bodies that don’t exactly bode well for a healthy digestive system. It was one Sunday in particular where it seemed that the deadly combination of the aforementioned vices had finally taken their toll on a certain somebody’s already delicate digestive track. Here’s a snippet of the things anyone could have heard throughout our apartment on that afternoon:

“Uuuuughhh, my stomach”.

“I feel soooo bloated”.

“Why can’t I poop”?

“Stop farting in my room and running away”!

You know, the usual things that you’re thinking in your head when a case of constipation comes your way, but that you choose not to say out loud – because it’s disgusting and generally bad manners. The scene was really that of a bad Pepto Bismol commercial…Or in this instance, Fleet.

After an entire day of the groaning, I couldn’t take it anymore. You see, in our relationship, my role is that of the doctor. CJ complains about an ailment, and I decisively give her my diagnosis (nothing is wrong) and my suggested treatment (drink a glass of wine). Most of the time Half the time I have no idea what I am talking about, but when your bff is a ridiculously paranoid hypochondriac, you learn to fake it. In this case however, I was right. I knew what needed to be done and I said it.

An enema.

Yes friends, that is a 5 letter word that no one wants to hear, but it had to be said. After a little convincing about how they are actually a very useful tool that doctors recommend for good colon health, she decided it was her only option. Off to CVS we went.

About an hour later – because for some reason neither of us can step foot in a CVS without spending AT LEAST that amount of time looking at all the “As seen on TV” merchandise and fake eyelashes – we were home. We chose my bathroom as the best option for the deed because I had the master which could be closed off to the rest of the apartment, and also I could shut the inner bathroom door between us. My role was, once again, that of the doctor. I stood on the other side of the door yelling out the instructions of how to assume the proper position (looks very similar to another position that is dirty in a completely more pleasurable kind of way) and administer the “medication.”

She was there. She was in the home stretch. All necessary components were, for lack of a better term, in place. But she froze.

I could hear crying from the other side of the door…  All I could hear in-between the mostly inaudible sobs was, “I can’t do it”. *sobbbbbbb “Please, help me”.

All I could think was, why God, why? Why hast thou forsaken me?

For those of you who don’t know CJ, she would have stayed in that position in my bathroom all night. It’s a rare combination of stubbornness and fear, but when she gets in that state, she’s liable to stay there… forever.

I knew this. I also knew I had to pee. So what did I do? I took a deep breath and I entered the bathroom.

The least she could have done was shift positions so I didn’t walk right into it, but no. There she was in all her glory – assuming the position that I had, just minutes before described to her from the other side of that door. What I would have given to have been back on the other side of that door. The “applicator” was facing me and I knew what had to be done.

I calmly stepped towards her, all the while soothing her with my voice. I described what I was about to do, and with my head half turned and only one eye open…I squeezed. The worst part about it is that you have to do it slowly, and you have to ensure that the bottle’s entire contents are used. After what seemed like the longest 10 seconds of my life, I ran screaming from the bathroom. I left the applicator right where I’d found it.

And that was it. My job was over. My duty – no pun intended – complete.

I can’t say I am proud of what I did, but I am a friend. However, CJ, if you ever need help with something like that again, please call someone else.

First off, I have a confession. I totally cheated on my “no drinking for almost a week” pact with myself. I have no excuse, except for I really suck at life. If it makes up for anything, it was only a few beers, and I still didn’t get any sleep. But i did have a good night.

Moving on…

Every month or so I like to take a looksie at the search terms people have used to find my page. I really hate for people to end up on my site looking for some specific information, only to leave dissatisfied and empty handed. Therefore, I will do my best share with you my knowledge about some of the more popular search terms used to get here.

If you came here by way of one of these terms, you’re welcome!

“hairy arse removal pads”

You’re not being very specific, but I am guessing that you are searching for ways to remove the hair from your “arse,” and not remove the hairy”arse” altogether (although I’m sure I can find someone for this as well.) I am no expert on arse hair, but I do have my experience (as you know) with hair on other parts of the body. If your arse hair is especially thick, I’m thinking you should stick with old fashioned shaving. If it is more sparce, you could try burning the hairs (in an open, well ventilated area) just be careful not to pass gas. You could also try plucking them, but you may need ass-istance, and that may be hard to find.

“carissa blog dallas”

There is a chance you actually found what you were looking for. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

“picture hand with red dot due to liver”

Why? Why would you do that to me?  You freakin bastard. I am already really paranoid about a little red dot on my arm and my liver. So sorry, won’t find any information on this here. I try not to think about it, maybe you should do the same. Or try out web MD. But if it makes you feel any better, my doctor said it’s nothing to worry about. But then again, I don’t trust that guy. He once falsely told me I needed gallbladder removal.

“free pant pee poo movies”

I”m not so sure how you ended up here on this one. I can’t provide you with what you are looking for, especially for free, but you may want to google a little word called “scat.” (thank you gay friends)

“do you know that demented person?”

I’ve been called crazy, eccentric, nutty, unhinged, and cuckoo… but never demented so I know that you came here by mistake. Perhaps you were looking for him,  or him, or  her….

“how to make a pair of saggy boobs for haloween costume” (this was how it was spelled)

This was a popular one. There were also a few variations of this search including “home-made saggy boobs” Making Golden Girl boob sag” and “homemade booby.” I am no expert here, but I do have an idea. I say take a pair of pantie hose and cut them off around the calf. Stuff them with sand bags then sew the open end to your shirt at chest level. It doubt it will work, which is why for MY costume, I simply purchased a pair of saggy boobs on the internet. Good luck!

“a dying bird on the road bit my feet”

How very unfortunate for you! First off, you can’t be surprised that a dying bird bit your foot if you were stupid enough to stand in biting distance. You must have been nearly on top of that bird. It’s not like that bird has arms to reach out and pull your foot to it’s mouth. And what did you expect? The poor thing was dying and needed to take it’s anger out on someone!

And yes, you probably have rabies.

“diarrhea every time i urinate”

First off, congrats on your superb ability to spell diarrhea, I never get that right! Second, so sorry to hear about your problem. I wish I could say I haven’t been there. I bet it burns. I’m no doctor, but I would say to decrease the burning sensation, try sitting on a cool washrag or an ice cube. Otherwise, quit drinking so much beer, try to eat some more veggies, and maybe try to squeeze to hold it in.

“effects of swallowing a spoonful of cinnamon”

It’s a good thing you asked before you tried. While this may seem like a fun party trick, I can tell you first hand- there is nothing fun or funny about it. When you first swallow a heaping spoon full, you think you’re going to be able to handle it. After the first little bit goes down, you start to wheeze a little, and small particles of cinnamon start to float around in your trachea. Then you will undoubtedly try to take a sip of water because you are nearly choking to death, which only solidifies the cinnamon into a mush in your throat. At this point, your best bet is to start trying to push it out the way it came in.

“carissa mustache facebook”

There is only one picture that I can think of that you may be referring to:

Unless of course you zoom in, then any of my pictures may apply.

“holy shit its james franco fuck me sideways”

I’m not sure why this brought you here, but I agree full heartily. In fact, I’ll expand on sideways, and go ahead and include any missionary, doggie, fuck! I’ll take any position in the book. I wish I could share him with you… but I can’t let you leave here empty handed, so…

Image by danzden via Flickr

“my pee hole dropped to my vagina”

If this did in fact happen, then bravo to you my friend. Ohhhh… I wouldn’t be too proud or go around telling potential boyfriends or anything (because you are a freak.) But dude! Go turn yourself in for medical research! You could probably make loads of money. And when you do, don’t forget who told you this golden advice.

“pooping”

This is a very broad subject. I think I’m just going to have to refer you to my friend, Dr John Dorian for this one.

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Keeping the FML Friday theme, I’ll share some of the things that I totally suck at doing (and should be really awesome at by now.) Feel free to add your own and make me feel a little bit better about my life…

*Lighting a match- Why in God’s name is striking a stick against, what is essentially a piece of cardboard , so difficult? I usually go through at least a row of matches before I get one lit, and another row before I get one to stay lit long enough to light whatever it is that I’m trying to light.  Throw in the acrylic- nail -catching -on- fire- factor- and I’m in for what could potentially be a humongo disaster.

*Spelling common words such as Piece, Wednesday,Calendar, and License… etc.- Without spell check, the previous statement would have undoubtedly read: Spelling common words such as Peice, Wendesday, Calender, and liscense…ect. And yes, I did get my degree in English.

*Braiding  my hair without having to start over 3 times- Yeah yeah yeah. Even my hair dresser told me never to wear my hair in braids again because it makes me look 12. I don’t give 2 flying pieces of poop. I’m lazy, and sometimes I like to look like a Native American. I suppose it’s in my blood somewhere.

*Pulling the right string on the overhead light- Every morning it is the same routine. I wake up, stumble out of bed to turn on the light. I pull the string. The fan switches to full speed, but the light stays off.  I go over to the wall and flip the switch. The fan slows down but the light stays off. I go over and pull the other string. The light turns on but the fan also starts up again and I’m freezing. These things seriously need to come with directions. I have a very similar experience with the two strings on the window blinds.

*Typing the right nonsensical word in those fucking Captcha things- I’m not claiming to be the brightest bulb of the bunch, but I know should be able to conquer a captcha. I can see alright. I’m a functional enough typist. I’ve done exceptional on typing tests, so I know that I have the ability to look at words and then type the same exact words on my keyboard. What makes me even more mad, is when it says something snarky like “Are You Human?” above it. That’s like saying “Oh no fair!! This one is SOOO easy!!!! Seriously,  you’re an idiot if you don’t get this right” right before you ask someone a trivia question. I’m apparently an idiot human.

*Opening the right drawer for eating utensils and cups- I have lived in this house for seven months now. It’s not that I don’t know where they are. I guess when I’m looking for a cup I just automatically start opening up random cabinets. I inevitably open the wrong one first. I have know idea why. It’s like my brain just wants to fuck with me and make me think I’m going crazy. Or maybe I just am.

*Making a turn at the first long break in traffic- I have my blinker on, and I need to turn into a parking lot across the way. I’ve already been sitting there for five minutes, just waiting for a break in traffic. I’m concentrating as hard as I’ve ever concentrated on anything in my life, gauging the speed and the distance between the cars in the opposite lane. I calculate how quickly I will be able to accelerate. I think  “Oh that’s a cute little hybrid… I wonder if my credit is good enough to buy a new car…. Har har har that guy is picking his nose….”

There was a break… but I missed it.

*Getting the straw in my mouth without the use hands in the midst of a deep conversation- Please note that I am specifying that I cannot complete this simple action during deep conversation. I can usually do it just fine when I’m looking at the straw. But without that pertinent eye contact with the straw? Forget about it!! You would think the odds would allow me to get the straw in my mouth at least one out of every ten times, but it never seems to happen. I either end up doing that ever so attractive lip/tongue search for the straw thing, or the straw ends up poking me in the chin, cheek, or worst of all- up my nose (I have literally gotten a bloody nose twice from attempting this maneuver.) The thing that makes me the most frustrated about this particular act, is that girls in the movies sipping coke floats, sick people in hospitals,  and old people in nursing homes successfully put the straw in their mouth without losing an eye, ALL THE TIME!!

*Cooking popcorn in the microwave- I’ve tried punching in the time that the bag tells me to. I’ve tried pushing the button on the microwave that says “POPCORN.” It doesn’t matter. Every first attempt I make at popping popcorn in the microwave either ends up being too full of uncooked kernels, or ends up a big smelly lump of coal like substance.

*Playing a DVD in my DVD player- This used to be a task I could handle, but that was before every TV in my house needed 4 remote controls just to work. It’s never just as simple as putting the DVD in and pushing a button. Now, just to watch a movie, I have to figure out which button turns the TV on; what channel or setting the TV needs to be on to play a DVD; how to make the DVD play; and then wait… there’s still no fricking sound!!

So basically, I just suck at life…

But that’s ok because it’s Friday!

Happy weekend  everyone!

Things have certainly changed in the life of BB over the last 14 years. She’s no longer the cute little poodle that we were so proud of. She has an extreme underbite and a huge… something… growing out of her forehead. She often gets looked over by members of  our family in favor of the other, younger dogs. The only way she gets a piece of table food is if it happens to drop and inch from her mouth, and the person who dropped it is too lazy to pick it up.  Instead of sleeping on pillows like a princess, the poor thing walks around with nuggets of poop hanging off her tail because the only grooming she gets is an occasional trim with the kitchen scissors. Sad, I know.

However, I have just found a really good excuse as to not feel so bad. In fact, I’ll be happy the next time someone asks what kind of dog BB is. Check out horrific article about a boy whose poodle got “fried to death” at the groomers…

BB