Ignore THIS, jerk!

My motorcycle hasn't run for months (totally my fault for letting it sit), and I'm anxious to get back to riding. I still need to change the oil and gas, but those are easy fixes. Maybe throw on some cafe bars (easy fix I can con someone else into doing for me *wink*).

But what I'm not looking forward to is being on the road with other drivers. I ride a bright blue motorcycle, I'm pasty-pale white and covered in tattoos, I have a Captain America helmet (like the one from "Easy Rider")...HOW CAN YOU NOT SEE ME?!?!

I've been cut off in traffic by pickup trucks that could take the back end off my Charger and aggressively merged on by Civics going fast enough to blow me into the next county. But I think I've found the solution: this is sure to get me noticed. I dare you to ignore me and my 2-wheeled, recycled alien. Bwahaha!

I wonder if State Farm ensures extraterrestrials?

You killed my father, prepare to die

"The Princess Bride" is one of the best movies ever made. Don't argue with me on this one, you know it's true. Whether you have a nostalgic attachment to it, or a crush on Carey Elwes, it's a great film. Romance, action, fantasy, you name it. This one has it all.

Why not show your appreciation on your dashboard? I'm terribly tempted. It will sit proudly next to my GPS.

Inconceivable!!

Love vs. Fat. Fat wins.

Aah, true love. Elusive, often painful, confusing, and certainly the most sought emotion. When others can't provide the love you need, where do you turn? Liquor? Porn? Chat-roulette? The Mall? Everyone wants true love, but not everyone can have it.

The Oatmeal has another suggestion. And for my money, I'm on board with this plan, 100%. And everyone can get bacon.

Go out with a BANG!

I've joked for years, that when I die, I want to be cremated, and have my ashes dumped (unceremoniously) into Lake Michigan. Sweet Home. Other thoughts have occurred to me though. I heard that you can have your body sent to Japan to be skinned and framed. Considering the number of large tattoos I have, it might be a neat (read: "creepy") way to haunt my eventual children. Imagine "Mom" hanging over the fireplace.

There are tons of other ways to have an unconventional memorial: get shot into space, create a bizarre casket, make a diamond from your ashes, and be enshrined in a coral reef. But I think I've officially settled on this one.

What better way to celebrate your life than with a badass party in death!? Rather than being strewn into the lake I grew up next to, I want to have a raging kegger on the shores of Lake Michigan. No need to pollute the lake with my remains, just send them up in flames. Vikings would totally be jealous.

Office accessories for REAL people

Not a day goes by that I don't feel like I need a drink at the office. It's a non-stop ride from 7:30am to 5pm. Fires to put out, issues to address, data to analyze, etc. Believe me, I'm not complaining, I function best in high-stress situations. If I don't have something to work on for even 5 minutes, I get bored, you lose my attention, and I'm off in LaLa Land (and surfing Careerbuilder.com).

But if I had one of these little gizmos around 3:30, rather than some sludgy coffee, I might be a little more relaxed in the afternoons. "You want something? Suuuuuure!" Rechargeable, and perfectly sized for your cubicle. I think it will fit neatly between my In Box and my monitor.

Just sayin'. (This is either a testament to my high-stress/activity workplace, or an admission of alcoholism. Jury's out.)

Russia hits a new low

As though that whole "Communism" thing wasn't a big enough blow to the people of Eastern Europe, now beer is no longer considered food. While chock full of calories and hops and stuff, beers alcohol content has overtaken its nutritional content.

Rising beer sales and falling Vodka sales pushed the move by the Russian President. Despite a recent (ministry enacted) 200% tax hike, beer's popularity has been on the rise.  Effective in 2013, beer as nutrition is a thing of the past.

So raise a frosty mug to our Russian comrades. Na zdorovie! So sorry for your loss. I wish they made a Hallmark card for this.

Stained glass ain't just for churches

I'm INCREDIBLY proud to admit that I'm friends with a brilliant artist: Brandon Barker.

This guy is a great human being, awesome friend, and innovative artist. And his fiance is BEYOND sweet. Years ago, I met Brandon while I was working at a bar he *used to* work at. He was also an EMT, tryin' to make a buck and survive in Chicago. Some of my favorite stories of EMT work involve bitching about hauling 400-lb people down 3 flights of stairs. (I hear ya, pal. Lotsa sympathy.)

But Brandon is now working toward a degree in what he truly needs no degree in: art. Especially, comic art. Check out the inner workings of the mind of the inimitable Mr. Barker at his site, or see the amazing stained glass interpretations of famous comic covers on LOTS of buzz-worthy sites.

Milk's latest (brilliant!!) gimmick

I have a bone to pick with whomever designs the packaging on Midol. You put the pills in a blister pack, inside a box. While in desperate need, I can tear open the box pretty easily, but the tiny pills under plastic and aluminum-backed paper are absolutely maddening! I often have to enlist the help of a tiny, sharp object to retrieve the sanity-restoring drugs.

Here's the point: you're already dealing with people on the verge of multiple homicides with blunt objects, why on earth would you make the cure so difficult to extract?

Milk to the rescue! Apparently, milk eases the symptoms of PMS. So put down the machete, and have a glass of milk. Stop jamming pokey things into your pill packets, and screaming at the man in your life about the one dish left in the sink. Hell, even add some chocolate and boost your phenylethlyamine.

So, guys, ask yourself every 28 days...got milk??

Art is subjective, and full of trans-fat

The crown jewel of the Iowa State Fair will not be making an appearance this year. 81-year-old Norma Lyon passed last month. Her claim to fame was not cherry pies, or steer judging, or quilting. It was butter sculpture. (Yes, you heard me.)

Norma crafted hundreds of pounds of butter into animals, famous people (notably a bust of Barack Obama during his presidential campaign), and cartoon characters. Her greatest achievement was a life-size butter diorama of the "Last Supper" in 1999, consuming a whole ton of butter.

While this is a distinctly rural art form, it's art nonetheless. You're welcome to argue with me, but the medium is less important than the subject/execution. At least, I think so.

Hands down, the most astonishing thing ever

Well, with the exception of various natural wonders, Sarah Palin's TV career, and space travel.

Just input the year you were born and watch the facts fly! While Wikipedia and Google are great sources of information, this site puts it in terms that hit home.

CHECK IT OUT!

Bass-heavy exhaust vs. high-pitched nagging

Gotta love some honesty in eBay postings.

Apparently, this guy is in the midst of a divorce, which is sad on principle, but hysterical on the Internet. Buy his car! Sounds like he needs the cash to move far, far away. Plus, it's a pretty damn hot car. I'm half tempted to let the Charger go to save this dude's soul...

Kids today.

Pardon me while I hop up on this box that, evidently, once contained soap.

Yeah, I'm not that old. Well, at least not to people older than me. (In my own mind I'm a freaking dinosaur!) But it seems to me that the younger generation has become incredibly lazy and self-entitled. When I was a teen, I took public transportation everywhere. I saved my change from my lunch money for MONTHS to get my first tattoo. When I hit college, I lived on Ramen and Basic Menthol cigarettes, and worked a 9-to-5 job in addition to a full school schedule, and a very active social life.

Via social activities and friends, and also via my 10-year-younger brother, I've seen some encounters recently that make me nauseous. Kids *screaming* at their parents, demanding they drive 45 minutes to pick them up from a totally different part of town. Bitching and moaning about "poor management" at a job due to a series of circumstances beyond anyone's control. Blaming everyone but themselves for what goes wrong in their lives, and refusing to accept responsibility for their circumstances.

This video really illustrates my point. Grade schoolers don't need cell phones, high schoolers need to learn the value of a dollar, and college-aged kids need to cut the apron strings and only call home to check in, not to demand cash/favors.

Grow some pride, youngsters! Work hard for what you want, don't demand it from anyone but yourself. If this former raver/slacker/addict/social nerd (yeah, not the good "nerd" either) can do it, so can you. Being self-sufficient is hard, but has so many cosmic rewards.

High fashion gets creepy. Well, creepier...

I like Steve Buscemi as much as the next girl.

Okay, never mind. Let's face facts: girls don't like Steve Buscemi. I'm pretty sure dudes don't either. He's one creepy SOB. I don't care if he's Heff rich, there's not an amount of cash ever calculated that would entice me to get with that. (Or Heff, for that matter.)

So, you're out at the club, and see some foxy chick, you're making "eyes" at each other. And then you notice she's wearing this. What do you think? She's going to lotion me up and skin me later? She's just really into Tarantino movies? I hope she takes that OFF while we're doing it in the bathroom? ('Cause you know some hottie in a Steve Buscemi dress is probably into some freaky stuff...)

Honestly, I'm tempted to contact the retailers of this fashion abomination and see how many they've sold, and whether the purchases were based on a sense of fashion or a sense of humor. Much like that "meditation pod" thingee Hammacher-Schlemmer is trying to sell.

The check's in the mail. I swear!

Hey, I went to art school, so if anyone can tactfully avoid a creditor, it's me. From tagging them in my cell as "DO NOT ANSWER," to claiming they've spelled my name wrong (which has kinda happened), to simply making promises I do not intend to keep, I've kept creditors at bay with the best of them.

Once, I had this apartment just outside of Chicago, and the landlord promised me when I moved in that he would fix the tile work in the bathroom. I started with-holding rent checks, telling him that they were taped to the bathroom door, and he could pick them up when he finished the tile. While I was just buying time, I did manage to save up enough to cover all of them. Shortly before Xmas, I came home to find my checks missing and a shitty job done on my tile. The day I moved out, I found an eviction notice on my door. I laughed. Ain't shit to evict but my trash. Slumlord.

So when you default on your car note, or default on your mortgage, or default on your furniture loan, "they" come and repossess it. What happens when America defaults on its loans? Do the Chinese come take back the lead-painted toys? Does Toyota come for their cars? Does Mexico charge in to repo their electronics?

I really shouldn't make light of the economic crisis, but, really, what happens when we tell our debtors that we can't cough up the dough? How does America tell the rest of the world that the check is in the mail? We can't exactly turn a national cell phone off or screen caller ID for Asia or Europe.

While I'm not the best student of economics, and don't really understand what raising the debt ceiling will do for/against me, I know that it will be a good step towards NOT raising my taxes, which are crazy to begin with. I work hard for every dime I make, legally or illegally, and although I enjoy government projects like roads and parks and bridges and stuff, I can't possibly squeeze out any more dough. Especially when I can't even get unemployment or welfare or food stamps (LONG story) when I need it.

Rant aside: tell me your opinion - what will other countries "repo" from us should America end up defaulting?

Disneyworld can suck it!

The happiest place on earth just had it's status revoked by the greatest theme park ever concieved! Imagine your wildest dreams Tonka-themed dreams coming true. Building and destroying empires with fellow dreamers. Like Space Camp, but with the odor of diesel fuel and cat-calling construction workers as counselors.

Dig This! Not far from the Las Vegas strip sits a wonderland of backhoes and dump trucks and excavators, oh my! For $400 dollars (about the cost of a cheeseburger at Disneyworld, no ketchup), you can spend 3 hours learning about manning your favorite piece of heavy equipment and taking it for a test drive. And for an additional $100, the ladies can "Excavate and Exfoliate" in association with the Trump Casino.

Even groups and corporate incentive trips are welcome at this Arcadia of assembly. The sandbox has never been so much fun.

Hot is now 64-years-old. Eew.

Back when our grandmothers were making fat-stuffed casseroles for our parents, seat belts were an automotive upgrade, and women were expected to wear crinolines, and various other un-sexy undergarments, there was a pioneer: Louis Réard. 

The inventor of the bikini celebrates an anniversary today. 64 years of making those of us "not in bikini shape" feel like absolute arse.  While the bikini was invented for "real" women, it's now for waifs and tanned sorority girls. Hope you're happy, jerk.

When's the anniversary of the burka? I'll celebrate that one. Thankyouverymuch.