it's the sound of one hand smacking

I'm doing this paper and cannot for the life of me cite enough references. It's like the horizon is fading away, no matter how quickly I run toward it, just out of reach. So I picked one historical fact in the paper and found, like, five people that have mentioned it in various newspapers and journals, and threw all of their references into the citations. Like if the paper was on the life of Hitler it would look like this:

"Hitler was German (Jones, 2; Bilch and Marsh, 1-3; Ferenge, 1; Tomkins and Randolph, 1; Barnett, 2 - yep, five out of five crazy-ass mother fuckers agree that Hitler was German)."

I'm so gonna get an A. But it's not even my paper, so B for boo.

I asked the person who is the rightful owner of this paper, my creative works, if she was okay with me so totally cheating for her and, without even a pause, she said, "Ethics is next semester".

Ethics is next semester.

I've been a big gluttonous ball of slovenly oinker sloth tonight. I had some Hot Fries that I wanted to eat with hot sauce (they weren't HOT ENOUGH because I was still aware that I HAD A MOUTH) and I dropped a bunch of them into the hot sauce, but didn't want to dig them out because I had a cut on my finger and am a big baby and it would have BURNED, that's why! So I used a barbecue chip to scoop them out. It was such an odd combination that I saw God, and He's ashamed of you and wept. True story.

Last night I had the choice to watch "More Awesome Celeb Beefs!" or "Little Man Tate". Guess which one I chose? Guess! I'll give you a clue - it wasn't "Little Man Tate". And in related news, "Dear Paris Hilton, you're a dirty whore but not in a good way. Stop it. Your pal, me."

I was upset with Nico and had used his full name:

Zoe: No, it's not Nicholas Gorner - his name is Nikolai Gorner Pee Underpants.
me: Pee underpants?
Zoe: No, "p" like the letter. Nikolai Gorner P. Underpants.
me: (blank stare)
Zoe: ...junior.

Nikolai Gorner P. Underpants, Jr. My son.

Funny, I don't remember doing any drugs when I was pregnant with any of my children. I have honestly not a clue where they get their bizarre nature from.

No, you shut up.

surreality du jour

dad, to me: Well my, my, my - aren't we Little Miss Anarchy Pants lately?

I really wish you had any idea of what my dad was like - you kind of have to know this to understand why his statement to me the other day was so painfully funny.

He's a little bit like every old-man farmer you've ever seen in any movie. The man who drinks the eggs in Napoleon Dynamite - kinda like that. A Norwegian bachelor farmer. He doesn't really speak unless it's at a card table, and half the time he seems really surprised to discover that there are people around him. The only way we really communicate with one another is through shouting, and if there's one word you would never, ever use to describe anything he does or says, it would be "cute".

But when he said that to me? I laughed myself to the brink of pants pissing.

Little Miss Anarchy Pants.

Priceless on so many levels.

bergman weren't nuthin but a hood rat

This was said to me in utter seriousness: "Are you fo' real? Quit clownin', dawg - you know that 'Casablanca' shit be tight. He was all, like, in love an' shit. In love. Word."

Random things overheard:

girl: If you don't stop it you're going to make me cry.
guy: Why do you do this to yourself?

woman: My kids don't get to jump on the bed.
other woman: (in disbelief) What, you mean ever?

girl: Your denial of my speech impediment doesn't make it any easier for me to say "horseradish".

girl: You wouldn't know good taste if it sat naked on your face. (after an awed pause) That's the funniest thing I've ever said.

guy: (said very seriously after reading something) You were right to hyphenate.

And lastly, from my 12-year-old, Samantha's blog:

I was reading the paper this morning, and found an article titled: "Blog on - but be careful what you write". It was this long article talking about how blogs viewed as journals are bad because they can get you in trouble. They have also decide that blogs "have a negative influence" on writing skills. My opinion: Blogz don t a fect ur rightin skilz. But seriously, so does email, and instant messaging. Who cares about grammar. Grammar is like math, you never use it in the real world.........

I'm deleriously happy that she edits and spell-checks as infrequently as I do.

I wouldn't know how to use commas properly even if they made a "School House Rock" about it, and neither would she.

seriously? i have no idea what's wrong with my thought process

My father, who so kindly is allowing myself and three children to live at his home rent-free, was not too happy with me today because I was taking a nap when he came home from work. He yelled at me, "This place is a mess - all you ever do is talk on the phone, play on the computer and sleep!" And me, being the genius fucking idiot that I am, laughed, said, "That's not true - I also drink your beer and smoke your cigarettes" and rolled over to go back to sleep.

In hindsight, I realize this was probably the wrong thing to do. In fact, it couldn't have been more wrong. Unless, maybe, if I would have then added, "I'm starving - what are you buying us for dinner?"

Yeah, that probably made it worse. But come on, man - dude needs to get a sense of humor, am I right?

Yeah, I'm right. Or maybe I'm just a complete asshole that needs to grow the fuck right up. I'll have to sleep on it.

These are the drugs that Dan bought.

This is a test entry from my little phone. My wallpaper on my phone is a lovely autumn scene with the words 'i heart your mom' in gothic script. The wallpaper on my computer is Brad Pitt. Why am I even wasting time on my phone when the scenery is so much better on the pc? Makes not a bit, nor Brad, of sense. (I couldn't just say 'testing', now could I?)

why i don't need to do drugs to get my brain all twisted around and confused

Said by Zoe, who is only five: "Some days, I feel pretty okay about that whole 'Mexico' thing. But other days..." (very deep sigh) "...other days? I don't know. I just don't know."

She then shook her head and looked off into the distance for a solid five minutes or so. My dad asked what she doing and I said, "I'm pretty sure she's regretting Mexico." He said, "Well, let me know when she's done."

They're all crazy.

all i got for mother's day was a headache

In the past week I've gotten into physical altercations on two non-consecutive and unrelated occasions. As a result of one I now require reconstructive surgery on a broken tooth. As a result of the other, I'm pretty sure I'm no longer welcome at my sister's house. Which is a shame, as she has her own tanning bed that I haven't gotten a chance to take advantage of, but I guess I didn't want skin cancer after all.

It's finals time, which shouldn't mean anything to me since I'm not in school, but it does because I've offered a lot of people a lot of help. I may even pretend I'm someone else and sit a final for someone who has yet to attend a single class, so the professor has no idea what she even looks like, and hope against hope that student ID cards aren't checked. If they are I may pick a fight with the professor and kick his ass. What do I care? It's not my grade.

I've taken on so many various projects for people that I'm getting them all confused. What does the evolution of organic communicable diseases have to do with Catholicism and Hemingway? Not a damn thing, which means I have to redo this entire paper.

I'm so sick of Hemingway that I want to dig him up and piss in his boots. He somehow manages to make psychoses uninteresting. I wish I could unearth some obscure text that proves that he was, like, a blood fetishist or something. Something to at least keep my eyes open.

The biggest surprise of my week came when I got a phone call from Hippy Sister telling me she had a bag of mushrooms for me for mother's day. Turns out they were only morel mushrooms, but those are pretty good, too. Everything you find growing in the woods should be hallucinogenic - there ya go, that's the topic for the next paper I have to write, regardless of the assigned topic.

Zoe gave me one of her chicken nuggets for mother's day, then Nico said to me, "Mother, please may I have your nugget?" I don't know where he picked up that kind of sentence structure, or where Zoe got the idea that a nugget was a good gift, but it was sweet all the way around.

Zoe just asked me, "What's shakin?" then said, "Oh yeah - that would be me" and started shaking her butt all around the room. Then she asked what I would rather smell, a stinky diaper or a stinky sock? I said I'd prefer a stinky sock and she said, "Well, then, I really hope that's what you'll find inside Nico's stinky diaper!" and laughed and laughed.

I hate clever kids.

vin vin VIN

Vin Diesel is the new crack.

I seriously cannot get enough of this. I'm really sorry that this came along on a day when I have so much to do, because all of my obligations are going to be totally forgotten in favor of Vin Diesel trivia. Because I have my priorities straight, that's why.

...and now a random fact about Vin Diesel:

A 15 minute rap battle between Diesel's character and Adolf Hitler was cut before the final release of Saving Private Ryan.

Vin Diesel has no bone marrow. Instead, the material is a compound of granite, fiberglass and Rock 'n' Roll.

Vin Diesel not only put the L in lesbian, but he put his penis in them as well. All of them.

When Vin Diesel recently underwent surgery to remove an obstructed liver, surgeons were suprised to find a smaller Vin Diesel inside him.

Vin Diesel is not lactose intolerant, he just refuses to put up with lactose's shit.

Vin Diesel will flip you. He'll flip you for real.

The atomic weight of Vin Diesel = AWESOME

Vin Diesel made a food chart that adds a necessary food group: The souls of your enemies.

Vin Diesel's blood type? Red Bull.

Vin Diesel only eats Lasagna - Lasagna made of Kenyan children.

Vin Diesel has been known to make women have orgasms just by growling at them.

Vin Diesel's middle name is Vin Diesel.

When asked how he feels about punching holes in things, Vin Diesel has surprisingly little to say.

Vin Diesel once used a 3 year old child as a baseball bat during softball practice. That child was Bjork.

Vin Diesel has a fever.. and the only prescription is more cowbell.

Vin Diesel eats a dozen babies lubed in motor oil for lunch and washes them down with asbestos, and doesn't even care.

The first rule of Vin Diesel Club is you do not talk about Vin Diesel Club. The second rule is that you have to let Vin Diesel see you naked.

Vin Diesel likes to compare himself to a little beetle. 'I am less shiny than you, beetle. But I am much bigger.'

Frankly, my dear, Vin Diesel doesn't give a damn. He is, however, making love to your nana.

What was your question again? Don't bother asking, because Vin Diesel told me the answer, and it's Vin fuckin' Diesel.

I just saved you a buttload of F5ing, but you should go do it anyway. Vin Diesel would want you to.

sweet sean hannity!

You scored as Democrat. <'Imunimaginative's Deviantart Page'> Democrat 100% Anarchism 83% Socialist 75% Communism 75% Green 67% Republican 0% Nazi 0% Fascism 0% What Political Party Do Your Beliefs Put You In? created with QuizFarm.com

Let's burn down the mother fucking world, but first...affordable health coverage for all!

I've been keeping little random notes in my phone to remind me of funny and slash or interesting things I might like to blog about. Wanna see how helpful this has been?

• Colonial Crack House - resort?
• Joss Stone - real name, not subtle joke?
• Human being in animated auto - best effect EVER
• Chicken head duck bank canary - foul fowl
• carbon monoxide detector is in the drawer
• picks up pennies (puts down pennies)
• contagious PMS I swear to GOD!
• James Dean tanning a diaper baby
• New slogan - "Got Meds?"
• pictures of work nuts for weight loss versus pictures of diet pills

HA HA HA HA HA! Comedy gold, people. Comedy. Gold.

This is why I usually operate under the "fly by the seat of my pants" philosophy. It's less painful, and doesn't take up a single bit of storage space in my phone.

...and now a random fact about Vin Diesel:

Vin Diesel can hire ninjas to kill the assassins he hired to kill you. Then he can kill the ninjas with his bare hands. He already did this two years ago, you just never knew about it because he's that good.