Call Me Big Poppa

     Since Halloween is only a month away (yes, we're excited), we decided to visit our local haunted house. This was a special occasion since my other half has never experienced the thrill of people getting their jollies off by scaring people with trash cans and sticks. After much coaxing on my other half's behalf I finally convinced her to go. To accomplish this I had to make many promises that people would not touch us, nor would we encounter any free range rodents.

     Our journey begins after we ventured into Petco to buy an overpriced Elizabethan inspired cone so our dog would leave his ass alone. We left after our nutritious dinner consisting of water and chocolate cupcakes (gotta keep up our figures) and arrived around 7:15 pm to our final destination... muahaha!!! After buying our half priced tickets we proceed into the holding area where we were forced to watch "Army of Darkness". We attempted to procure some chairs, but every time a pair became available our indecisiveness allowed people to get them before we could. Finally, our letter was called and we descended into darkness until we were asked to stop by a white disposal can (maybe that's where they throw away the dead bodies). We were then given the ground rules and told to follow the paved road, somewhat resembling a gruesome version the yellow brick road.

       Since we were first in line, we lead a group of 50+ people into a smokey trail of doom. Also, as the leaders we were the first to encounter the trash can beater, in which he successfully received a yelp from me and my other half. Then we entered into a maze of hanging dead bodies and maniacs with a desire for blood...our blood. The problem was you can't scare someone who has a big goofy smile on their face. Because of our maniacal smiles they were more scared of us than we were of them, so they passed us by for easier prey. We made it through the maze quite easily by holding hands; until a horrific incident happened involving my other half's ear being accidentally raped by an actors tongue causing her to have a semi-orgasm.

         Now came the walk through the woods, in which we had to ask several employee's how to get there. When we finally made it to the entrance gate as we were being given our next set of directions, one of the mentally unstable actors crossed the boundaries of personal space for an extended amount of time...and just all around being creepy. Then off we led our new set of troops into the woods of the unknown. Mostly it was just dark and hard to see when someone would jump out at us. But that didn't stop our troop from screaming when the guy crawled out from under the bus, causing us to almost kick him. Next we came upon a hanging where we were asked if we would like to volunteer to be next "little girls" and I replied "only if I can call you big poppa" and i'm still not sure if he heard it, but it made us giggle causing our group to respond by saying "why aren't they screaming?" The woods were pretty clear after that, until we got to what appeared to be a random corner of a wall, where a man jumped out and ended up coincidentally sticking his groin right in my perfectly cupped hand. After apologizing profusely for sexually assaulting him, we proceed blindly onto a bridge to a house where they had apparently not paid the utilities. Not only was it smelly, it was very dark and damp. Not to mention, the painters were obviously geographically challenged. The arrows pointing us where we needed to go were backwards, so my other half called out "Which way do we go?" to which a ghoul replied "the opposite way of the arrows." Little did he know the last arrow led to a wall. However, a man in a white coat was quick to show us the correct way, while maintaining his terrifying facade. Upon exiting, we found ourselves faced with a guy who gave us a half-hearted growl (which we scolded him for), and we entered the carnival of birthing. We were ushered into dark, plastic wrapped slide, where we had no idea what we were supposed to do and I got stuck because my burlap sack came out from under me. To reposition myself, I had to situate myself in the birthing position, like I was being examined by the damned vaginacologist! What the hell? So, here I am, squatted on the slide while people are walking up the stairs next to the slide and my other half is flying past me, probably wondering why I'm just sitting in the middle of the slide. And you know what made it worse? After my semi- exam, we were directed into a big top maze where I was assaulted by clowns! My biggest fear, imagine that! Luckily, it didn't take long before me and my fellow leader found our way out. Of course, we were directly pushed through what can only be described as a white, blood stained, birthing canal, full of air and lots of people. It was quite awkward, to say the least.

         Overall, the experience was unforgettable, and we have determined that going again this year is a priority. We may take more people, though. The best part was the factory simply because the layout was better. The actors were much more convincing, other than a few who made unnatural noises that were not so much scary as sexual. One thing I would suggest all haunted houses take into consideration is that your guests probably don't know which way to go. The directions should be pretty clear, or you should have a guide to direct them. Also, having a portion outside, you should consider your guest's safety. There are a lot of tripping hazards in the dark, so make sure you clear it out very well.  We had such a great time, though! It wore us out, so now it is bed time, because we are getting to be old grandmas. The smallest amount of excitement kills our stamina like Raid kills roaches.
                                 

 Happy pooping, all. And to all a good night. 

Happy haunting. MUAHAHAHA!

Warning: This May Contain Offensive Material

If you are a homosexual sociopath, don't read this. My intention is not to offend.

                Let me begin by stating that I hate no one, and this is not a reflection on my other half (just me). This blog post is not to discuss my political views on either the subject of sociopaths or homosexuals; although, I fear, at some points it may be necessary. Maybe I should just start off by assuring you that I once had a homosexual affair? Ok, so now that the cat's out of the bag, so to speak, let's begin this post.
               My S.O. has told me he wants kids. Normally, women our age are jumping at the chance to pop one of those cute little bundles of shit out. Not me! Do you want to know my biggest fear as far as babies go? I'll tell you. It isn't that he/she may come out mentally handicapped, or even physically handicapped. I think I could handle either of those scenarios; perhaps not with ease, but with help, surely. No. My biggest fear is that my baby will exit the womb a homosexual sociopath. It doesn't help that his/her mother has a deep set attraction to the female body. Nor does it help that his/her mother enjoys some incidents of pain. Maybe I'm being melodramatic, right? I mean, everyone enjoys a little pain, correct? It's what lets us know we are living. But still. The thought lingers in my skull like a fly hovers over a roadkill carcass.
                 So the implications of this fear suggest a sort of homophobism. This is not true, at all, though. I am not afraid my child will be homosexual. I am afraid of the conflict that comes with the child being homosexual, knowing that both my S.O.'s and my own family might not accept that in their own grandchild. I don't even know that I would accept it. More likely, I would just ignore it. I don't like sticky situations, so it might come to my child and I never discussing it, making things worse. But, over all, I think I could handle the homosexual possibility. The added sociopath part is where my deepest concern lies. What does a homosexual sociopath entail? I mean, what is the worst that could happen? Well, my own mental depiction goes something like this:
              It is a dark and foggy night in London. The streets are empty save for the yellow streaks of moonlight and deep shadows looming in the alleyways. A man (or woman) leans against the corner of an abandoned brick loft, just out of the pool of light cast by a lone street lamp. Then you hear the click, click of someone's shoes approaching. From the sound of their footfalls, it can be assumed that the person is in a hurry. The streetlight catches the man/woman's figure. He/she is not a particularly handsome person, but he/she will do for the night. He/she carries a leather briefcase, wears a finely pressed pantsuit, hugging his/her figure to perfection.

              The man (or woman) hiding in the shadows takes this person's inattentive behavior as a moment of truth. "This is the one." He/she follows the unsuspecting victim for a block. The mist is rising off the street, as the asphalt warms the cool night air. Vic (the abbreviated form of victim, given to the man or woman soon to be overtaken) stops to light up a cigarette.  "Wonderful timing!" He/she slips his/her arm around Vic's neck and places a hand over his/her mouth,then drags Vic into the alleyway. Taking the cigarette, he/she takes pleasure in placing the cherry against Vic's polished skin. Vic yelps, giving my son/daughter a tingly warm feeling in his/her loins, causing him/her to do the Hannibal Lector "sipping sound."

(Courtesy of watching too many movies.)

              Ok, so you get the picture. It doesn't end well. :( See why it is so difficult for me to want to have children?? Is this a totally insane thought; have I just read too many Mary Higgins Clark and James Patterson novels? Or is this a legit fear? I mean, it'd be one thing if it were one or the other. Of course, the sociopath part in itself is just plain scary! So why does my mind put the two together? I honestly hope this doesn't offend anyone. I am not making this fear up, and I am certainly not lying that I have no fear of my child being simply homosexual. But the two together just seems terrifying. Maybe I am the one that needs help.
           Another example of Google's ineptitude: I Googled homosexual sociopath, and this image was among the top ten.

Scary, right?

Why Wal Mart is A Successful Monopoly

Lately, many Americans have been feeling the pressure of rising costs on items such as gas, groceries, water, and decorative pillows. Items that one cannot do without have become increasingly unreachable as our economy goes along it's roller coaster path to depression. Now the question becomes, "where can we obtain these essentials for less?"
Wal mart's slogan has always been about saving us money, but how do they do it? Well if you consider other providers of items such as decorative pillows, you will notice that the items are less elaborate. What Wal Mart does is take out that middle step, completely. Even that extra two feet of thread increases the price of a decorative pillow a whopping five times! So for Anthropologie's $250 five palms pillow, Wal Mart has someone take out the silly tree design, and gives you a plain white pillow for under $20! Wow! And you know what is best about that plain, simple white pillow? You can afford to buy the materials to create your own design and paste it onto the pillow. Boom! That's what I call Saving money. Living happy.
Another popular commodity is the doormat. Now, for something that only serves to collect mud from the bottom of one's dirty sneakers, these little buggers cost quite a bit. At Bed, Bath, and Beyond, the $35 basket weave welcome mat may look super inviting. It may even trick you into buying it with it's promise of cleaner floors and shoes. But believe me when I say Wal Mart offers you the same rug for a full $5 less. Can't beat that price!
What about on the gasoline front? Well, Wal Mart offers their customers the 10 cents- a- gallon savings at participating gas stations. What a deal! That's like saving $2 dollars at the pump every time you fill up. And you know what you can spend that $2 on? A new decorative pillow! At Wal Mart.
Now consider your grocery bill. Say you are married with 2 kids. Well, at some grocery stores, even the store brand is more expensive than some of the name brand products. For those of you that shop at stores like this, you should definitely consider buying from Wal Mart. They claim to have locally grown fruit and veggies. Of course, by local, they probably mean within this great country. I know one thing for sure, the Great Value brand of Kool-Aid is about 12 cents cheaper. And Ramen noodles are even cheaper when bought from Wally World. Seriously, think of all the money you can save by shopping at Wal Mart.
Not to mention, there is one conveniently located in most cities. If there isn't one in your city, you should write the Wal Mart corporation, and see how fast they stick one of those Wal Mart Marketplaces in the middle of your peaceful suburban area. Watch the streets crowd with cars on Saturdays as people hurry in to catch some of those promised Low prices. Always. It's such a beautiful sight. And people wonder why Wal Mart is so successful. Well, not us! We shop strictly at our favorite local super center. This concludes our session on Wal Mart's monopoly on the finer items in life.
Happy pooping.

Behind Closed Doors

Not all women are the same. Some of us possess qualities that others do not, such as sensitivity, style, fragile dispositions, etc. These are all traits that are very relative to the person's general personality. So here, we will be discussing some common myths about women. Though we have no scientific evidence that the following statements are true, we are both women, so our gender trumps all else.

• First myth: Women are never uncouth.This is the least true statement a man could make. Women are just as foul, if not more so, than men. We just have the good sense to save our vile language for behind closed doors. One thing you learn from being a lady is to never express distaste publicly without disguising your words. For example, in the South, a common expression for "That bitch is pathetic" is "Bless her heart." As you can see, the second phrase is a much nicer way to say the former. But when the guards are down, and there are no other women to impress, we simply revert to insulting her in whatever jargon we choose.
• Second myth: Women have sleep overs in their underwear and partake in pillow fights. Now, part of this statement is very true. The sentiment behind it is not. Yes, we do enjoy sitting around in our underwear; however, it is not the way men currently think it is. In fact, it greatly resembles the way men sit around in their underwear. We may not have balls to scratch, but when a woman is lounging around in her undies with her girlfriends, it is not an attractive sight. It is certainly not like the movies, where the girls are clothed in thongs and lacy bras, laying in sexy positions. We usually have old t-shirts on with Homer Simpson on it, and panties with holes in them and period stains on them. As far as the pillow fights, the only time you hit another girl with your pillow is if she tries to snag the last piece of stuffed crust, supreme meat lover pizza, "bless her heart." 
• Third myth: Women don't like to eat a lot in front of men. Actually, if he's offering to pay, she's probably going to milk it til it's dry. Who would forfeit a free dinner?? If she is one of those ladies that doesn't eat a big meal on her man's budget, she probably ate a whole cow before attending the dinner. Or she has a five course meal lined up with five other gentlemen after you. "I'm just going to eat a salad for now," out loud, but in her head, "because I have to save room for my five other dates!" So be weary of these type women; they are the most dangerous to your heart. But women like us, we won't let you down. We'll eat the tastiest burger on the menu, without blinking an eye. And then when you take us home that night, we'll have plenty of time to think of how wonderful the date was because we won't be searching for more sustenance. 
• Fourth myth: Women enjoy wearing makeup. No. We do not. Some women greatly enjoy the process of covering their face up with mud and gook. But those are the deluded salad eaters of the world, who are trying to impress five different men. Most women, we would say, enjoy being appreciated for their natural self. The dark circles and blemishes, hairy legs and toes, no disguises. Because once you appreciate your woman for her natural self, you will learn to recognize the truly rare occasions when she wants to fuck your brains out. She will signal this by adding the correct amount of blush and eyeshadow, shaving her legs and armpits, and even trimming her nose hairs...all for you. She may even add a nice pair of underwear, not the sleepover kind. 
• Fifth myth: All women want relationships. Well, sometimes, we are just like you guys in the fact that we just need a good ole fashioned one night stand. We're not talking about the one night stand that turns into a relationship, nor are we talking about a literal one night stand. Sometimes we just need an hour, and no spending the night. Other times, it may turn into a month of one hours. Unless we SAY that you're in a relationship, it is safe to assume that you are being used for our pleasure. The best way to know if you are being used is if she never mentions marriage. Or children. Or if you don't hear from her unless she wants sex. If you only talk to her during the "heat of the moment," it's safe to say, you are just a fuddy. Needless to say, women do enjoy a gentle cuddle sometimes, so if she asks you to stay the night, don't be frightened. It does not mean you are in a relationship if you spend the night. It just means her a/c works too well. She will probably kick you out after breakfast, the breakfast that she asks you to procure. 
• Sixth myth: All women like to shop. Absolutely not! Going to the store knowing exactly what you want and buying said item does NOT count as shopping. Even that is an unpleasant experience for some. There are, of course, women who enjoy the thrill of being crushed between sweaty bodies, searching for the perfect pair of woolen socks, but not all of us are thrill seekers. Some of us don't even like socks! If your lady is dragging you around the mall, chances are, you are a trophy man. She just wants to show you off to all those other women who are OBVIOUSLY there to notice her, not to do any actual shopping. Most of us prefer to do our shopping from the computer, in the comfort of our period stained panties and Homer Simpson T's, eating a burger next to our fuddy. 

There you have it. Six myths deconstructed for all of you misogynistic, stereotyping people out there. And others. Just remember, if she orders a salad, she's probably cheating on you; when she says she's sitting around in her undies, it's not a pretty sight; and if she doesn't call you unless she wants some booty, you're just a fuddy. Hope you enjoyed our mythbuster session.
To all a good afternoon, and as always, happy pooping! 

The Importance of Lunch Buddies

Sitting at lunch by yourself has always been a pastime of ours. When you're younger, this is perfectly acceptable. You know, there's no shame in it because at age 5, you're not supposed to have a bunch of friends, right? But as you get older, that solitude becomes ever more pressing, eating away at your very soul! It becomes something that you are increasingly ashamed of, because sitting alone at lunch just looks desperate.
In high school, it is a social status. "The loner" is one who associates with no one, reads a lot, is too quiet, and will probably come to the 10 year reunion as a research scientist, telling the world about the wonders of bacterial infections. Of course, who cares about that stuff in high school? No body. Except maybe the people who grow up to be psychologists. Anyways, as you grow even older, you begin to eat out more. Or take your lunch, and eat in the lounge. In these scenarios, having a lunch buddy is very important. You know what people think when they see grown ups eating alone in public? They think, "Boy, I feel sorry for that poor soul. I wonder if I should randomly go join him at his table, keep him company...Nah. Don't want to be a creep." That's what we think, anyways.
So the way to avoid the above scenarios is to search for jobs where people you would associate with would work. Never ask yourself, "What do I want to do with my life?" when searching for careers. Instead, try a different approach, and ask yourself "What kind of people would I like to eat lunch with, daily?" This is a sure way to end up with the perfect job! You'll never be lonely again. You will not only enjoy an hour full of entertainment from your fellow lunch mates, you will also partake in socialization- a common practice among many Western cultures. Another approach is to only apply for jobs with your favorite lunch friend. Like us, for instance. We are both going to apply for a job with the same company, that way, at lunch time, we will never be lonely! Unless, one of us gets sick, or has to go on an impromptu mental vacation. Then, we will have a backup lunch buddy, whom we will pick upon being hired. Now, this is rather tricky. You must find the perfect one as soon as possible after you're accepted into the group. You don't want to be bombarded with other lonely eaters in the cafeteria, so you have to choose wisely. She needs to be a compatible chewer. Otherwise, you have someone who is finished with lunch way before you, and then you have to listen to her chatter for much too long. Unacceptable! So make sure your lunch buddy stand-in has the same eating habits as yourself. Also, she needs to like the same foods as you. Nothing is worse than going out for lunch and having to waste 30 minutes deciding on a restaurant. Point being, choose quickly, but informatively.
Once you get to a certain age, though, lunch buddies become commodities. They come and they go. At early morning breakfast at Jack's is where you will find your long time lunch pals. The few who wake up before 5 a.m. in order to catch the news. Generally, you will not go out for lunch. You have made your big meal of the day as enjoyable as possible with good people, so there is no need to pay for a meal in the middle of the day. Eating lunch at home is more enjoyable because you won't have to listen to the new generation's complaints of how difficult life is; you know life was much more simple when you were younger, and those twerps have nothing to complain about. Who needs friends when you have online bingo, anyways?
As you can see, lunch buddies aren't for every age group; however, they are important. Make sure you have the right person beside you at lunch by taking these quick, simple trinkets of advice. Remember, NEVER lower your standards! If you have to sit next to someone even remotely irritating at lunch, it is your own damn fault! Kick her to the curb when she starts talking about the latest episode of Top Model, because you know that shit's going to get old; you know she's going to be the most judgmental bitch when she notices you packed two Snickers bars for lunch. Also, don't be open minded on this. It's not like picking a puppy. You can't train a good lunch buddy. Find your perfect match because when she pisses on the rug, you can't rub her nose in it. Make sure she isn't one of those girls that has allergies or gets sick a lot, otherwise, you'll miss too much work from being sick. Beware of napkin hogs: the ones that take all the napkins after you got a handful for yourself. And last, but certainly not least, NEVER ever allow your lunch buddy to eat off your plate. This is the biggest no no in the book of lunch buddies. If she even attempts, brand her her with your fork tongs. It will be a constant reminder, and will set you up as the dominant lunch pal. These words we give freely, so take them and use them well.
Good night, and happy eating!

Jimmy Fallon is an ass...and so are we

Have you ever had one of those moments in life where you discover something phenomenal about yourself? Yeah, well, neither have we. Until today. We decided to go eat lunch at a TexMex restaurant, because we had this amazing coupon where you buy a burrito and get one free. Little did we know, our plan was already being thwarted by our mother. Upon walking into the dining room where said coupon was left at an earlier time, we were horrified to discover the coupon was missing! Thrown away like a piece of unwanted trash. And even worse, there was no sympathy from the town folk who managed the restaurant. Apparently, "my mom threw away my coupon" is about as legit as "my dog ate my homework." So of course, we paid full price, unlike the lucky sons of bitches swarming the restaurant having safely held onto their coupon,and thus gaining a free burrito. To make matters worse, we happened upon the subject of our sense of humor. Yes, you might say it is a little dark....and unique as well (AHA HA! Like Hell). But up until this point, we have always thought it was just other people. They don't get us. We were truly hilarious in our own eyes. So what was it about us that people just didn't get? Then, it hit us. Like the spicy burrito will hit our guts, soon....We're not funny. We're the Jimmy Fallons of our community! Laughing at yourself is supposedly a good thing. What they fail to mention is that laughing at your own JOKES is where you start to look like an asshole. So all those times of watching Jimmy on television and feeling so sad for him, knowing that he thinks he is funny, but no one else is laughing, really burst our bubbles. We realized that we had been watching ourselves on television, all along. So we ate about a third of our burrito in silent reverence of the brave Jimmy Fallons of the world! We understand you! Don't fret because others don't think you're hilarious. They matter not! Because you are your biggest fan, and that is all that should matter in this world! DAMN THE MASSES! DAMN THE FEW! And all in between. Those that don't see your humor are just not worthy of your talents. So continue to make awkward jokes, and continue to laugh at them yourself. SO what if you have no friends? You have yourself and the voices in your head.
Now, I must go poo, for the burrito has hit South! To all a good afternoon, and happy pooping!