Nevermind the Bollocks.

YEAH when I draw squids, they look like peeners.  I tried to avoid it, my circumspect READERS.  But it was so eloquently pointed out *snicker..pointed* when I'd hoped that nobody would notice. 

"NooOOooo... they won't say your cave squid looks penisy, Self. It's barely noticeable. They know you'd never try and draw penii and put them on the internet.  Your readers know you, Self.  They know you have a very sharp and pristine mind.  You were raised better than that."

JUST NEVER MIND, SICKOS.  It's nature.

I guess I'm just like Walt Disney, sneaking phalluses into all of my drawings.  Look it up, you guys.  It's the truth that Disney Studios put peeners in almost all of their movies.  I live with an animator, he confirmed this truth.   It's because I'm practically in the Freemasons now.  I'm verging on becoming Becky.  Totally by accident. 

Anyhow, I'm right now trying to get out of my house, but everyone keeps migrating back to their screens of choice.  I wanted to go pick up some magnetic discs and stuff and a glue gun so that we could make robots but apparently I'M the only one who thinks that would be an awesome idea.  Mine would probably look like a big tin can of a tallywhacker anyway.

Here is a quick story:  I went to my friend's birthday party on Saturday and she made me have too much scotch.  She made me.  What a bad friend.  I came home with a fancy shoebox full of the following things:  A turkey baster (shaped like a turkey), some books, a bluray of Alice in Wonderland & my ukulele.  I hope I didn't steal any of those things.   Well not my ukulele, obviously.  The shoe box was noticably missing shoes.   I also remember making a mental note to add all of the people I met at the party on facebook, but come morning, it seemed less of an excellent idea.  Also, I didn't feel very good on Sunday.  Scottish Flu or something.  Here is the only photo I took.

Basically I'm doing everything wrong, but everyone seems to have gathered at the front door, so I will have to continue this epic blog entry later.  In the mean time, enjoy these arsty photos that I took:

I took this photo earlier this winter.  Snowy.  Snow on the hood of my car that day.  

At a local sweets shop.

A wicked lightning shot I took when I was visiting Alberta last summer.

At the pier.

Amazing mast. 

A beautiful sunny morning at a campsite we stayed in. 

Ok, I have to stop this now.  My reputation is going to be ruined.

And now for something completely different. A FEATURE.

You'll be surprised to hear that I am related to some excellent people. Fine people like myself. People who turn the weird things I say on facebook into songs. Well one person who does that, anyhow. My dear, talented cousin, Buzz. For the record, he doesn't turn every weird/dumb thing I say on facebook into a song, that would take infinity years and be pretty weird- Just two things: "Being Gross" & "Don't Scribble on my Blog". I really think this comment-song writing could be a formula for total internet success. I hope he gets rich. He deserves it, he's good people.

History Lesson:

Here is my cousin, Buzz and I as infants (as arranged by Uncle Bob who is my Dad's brother). This is my most favourite childhood snapshot of all time, obviously. That is me on the left. I'm pretty sure I've posted this here before, but since this is an entry featuring Buzz, I thought I'd better include it.

Besides: hilarious.

Back on Facebook, Buzz told me that reading my blog is like talking to me, but with less of him in it. Then he threatened to scribble on my blog (!) with a giant crayon, no less. Unbelievable. In fairness, I had taken a thread he'd started about getting a new job and accidentally twisted it into being about my blog. But really, I just wanted to emphasize that the words blog and job almost rhyme; not promote myself. I generally just happily assume that most of my relatives and their facebook friends don't want to know what happens here.

(blah blah blah... congrats on the job from other facebookers)

And he came up with this like, immediately:

Great, eh?

"Being Gross" however, is my personal favourite out of his songs about weird facebook comments from relatives. These songs, by the way, he wrote and recorded in under 10 minutes each. I can't exactly remember the entire conversation leading up to this song being written, but rest assured it was probably pretty dumb. I take no credit for the songs, by the way. Buzz is a geen-lius: tell him to start a youtube channel.

Anyhow, here it is. I hope it doesn't all wreck because of stupid blogger video uploader, which is shite. I didn't ask him if I could put it on the yootoob, so it had better work...

Being Gross:

Thanks, Buzz, for letting me post about this! I hope it becomes a regular occurrence. I also hope this plug satisfies your need to vandalize my web page with crayons.

End.

PS.. don't forget to read this other blog from today.

Sources.

Um. So.

Writey write.

My week has been inexplicably boring, except for that one time where I got a little obsessed with the news and fringe American politics. I couldn't help it, though: I watched network news. You dummy, Self! The pulsating pile of bullshit that feeds on itself and spews horrors and scandal at my fragile mind. It took me days to settle down over it.

I've had to periodically quit the news, you guys. It ruins my mental health and I start to think about fashioning an aluminium foil do-rag to keep the governments out. (I also feel compelled to force you to pronounce it AL-ew-MIN-ee-əm and not A-loo-minum in case you don't already.Trust me, you'll sound way more impressive at all the parties you attend when you're not blogging.)

"Why, Mrs Hilton, are those AL-ew-MIN-ee-əm chaise loungers I see? Why I just ADORE AL-ew-MIN-ee-əm and these AL-ew-MIN-ee-əm breezers are just to DIE for!"

She'd be pretty impressed that you noticed.

I'm not crazy. YOU Are.

Anyhow, I've had the sound mental faculty to shut it off and continue to just receive my current events from my neighbor, Lawrence who periodically strolls by with information on the whereabouts & social encounters of my cat , Fluffy Sparkles (entertainment news) and also through my 4th grader who filters information to me through her classmates' secret underground ring of knowledge (current-ish events). Really, what more do I need?



Did you know that Hitler chewed off his own arms? I heard it through my news sources. Also, Fluffy Sparkles was spotted consorting with the other neighbor's cat, Charlie (AGAIN!!). That Charlie is out of control if you ask me.

The Thrill is Not Gone.

My grainy iphone photo of Lucille.

I saw BB King perform live and in person last week. Smallish venue, sold out. This is something that I am relieved to have done as there was a definite finality to the show. BB KING is still touring at the age of 85, and surely not for very much longer. That sounds morbid, as I fully believe he'll live for another 20 years, however the touring & performing is definitely winding down.

When he came out on stage, I didn't know what to expect. I mean, I've seen him on TV, wailing on his beloved guitar, Lucille, however many of those clips are from years ago. At his age, I wasn't really sure how strongly the man could perform any more. He was helped onto the stage and to his chair on a carpet in the center beside Lucille, because his knees have gone on him. He started out modestly, with the band providing the bulk of the music and I kind of settled into the idea that he would just be joining in here and there. He has lost weight, he seems fragile, it was ethereal. It was like seeing my Grandfather, to be honest, in his last year. Seeing someone who is larger than life in their vulnerability is unsettling.

He didn't seem so vulnerable for very long, though. These old fellas are tight. I mean, playing together for 1000 years tight, and what struck me is how they genuinely seem to love performing. They've seen half of the world together for over 60 years and they laugh and joke, it's almost like spying on buddies in their basement on band night- and they are not bored with this. This has been their entire life and it will clearly continue to be the rest of their lives. They love this, or fooled me into thinking so.

When BB began to play Lucille, he went up in smoke and congealed again when his part was over. The guitar is an annex of himself, he uses it to sing, he uses it to cry, he uses it to yell. He excites it and then calms it down again, and so effortlessly that he actually wiped his brow with a towel in the middle of playing a solo without so much as a seam in the music.

After a while, and after introducing the band, he opened his mouth and sang, "I need you" and I think I swallowed my heart. I was not expecting that he could still sing directly out of his soul, with clarity and startling strength:

Like this.

He is also so gracious, he does not demand to be the star of the show, although he might not be able to help it. It's difficult to take your eyes of him. He is so animated when he plays, but I don't think it's something that requires any effort. It's just who he is. Happiness shines out of him when he's telling a joke, when his story or song turns melancholy, his shoulders slump down and his face changes. However, he allows the other musicians to showcase themselves, complimenting their solos with his guitar magic, but not taking the spotlight away. I don't think I've ever seen a more finessed performance.

At the age of 85, and in the middle of a long tour, his weariness shows through on the edges. He is an old man who has been doing this for his entire life. He is full of stories and he is forgetful. His passion, however, does not waiver. He began the song, "Key to the Highway" more than three times before realizing he'd already played it, but to tell you the truth, I'd have listened to it more than 3 times if that's what he wanted to play. He is an extension of his band and when you're in the audience, he's an extension of you and you find yourself hypnotized. This man could be the pied piper, because I'd probably follow him over a cliff without noticing if that's where he led me. I felt like I was floating above my seat the entire time. When it was over, I crept down from my balcony seats and shook hands with his band members. BB King was wheeled off of the stage at the end of the show looking like a real king in his fedora, scarf & long brown jacket; clearly exhausted. I gave a little wolf whistle because I have now developed a crush on an 85 year old man. What.

I can only hope that at the age of 85, I will be a rockstar like BB King... Or at least eventually be senile enough to think I'm one.


I'm so glad that I got to go. Now, if only I could set him up on a date with my Granny.

All I know is....

There had better be a person called, "Milestone" who owns this restaurant, because every time I drive past it, the Grammar Stickler/Super Nerd inside of me goes completely berserk. One day I am going to stomp right in and demand to meet Milestone, owner of Milestone's and if they can't produce such a person, I am going to return under the cloak of darkness and sharpie out that offensive apostrophe.

Rollins Reduced, Reused, Recycled and Recovered. Well not really reduced. The opposite of that.

Alright, this was supposed to just be my project 365 photo, but it kind of turned into a good blog entry... so I'm pasting it over here with bonus information; I generally like to keep 365 succinct- except this once. Not all of you follow my 365 (BASTARDS! I mean, hey- that's okay, you have a lot of blogs to visit. I totally understand. *teeth grind*), so I thought I'd talk about it here. Plus here, I can post the ridiculous photo I took of Henry Rollins because it's not against my weird personal 365 rules that are forever changing and making me paranoid.

Breakfast! Also, you will notice a stamp on my lovely manhand (probably, there won't be offers of hand modeling gigs pouring in after this) from the Henry Rollins spoken word tour, a show that I went to yesterday thanks to friends, Janet & Steffan! (Who I now owe a sock beast) It was fantastic. Ironically, Ann Coulter was speaking at another event in town. OH to have those two in a room together! It's the only way I'd pay to see Ann Coulter, the she-devil (unless is was a mean spirited roast or public head-shaving, I'd totally go to that). Anyhow, I got a message to be AT the venue immediately if I wanted to go, and I did my best to materialize on the spot with zero speeding tickets. HENRY ROLLINS? ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME??!?!

The show was 3 hours, spoken word. Kind of like a motivational sermon from an Icon of Punk. And he was really great, very interesting, outspoken and dammit, he was right about things. I was particularly impressed with his story about the time he walked directly up to Than Shwe's Limo and flipped him the bird, 5 inches from his face for being a conniving and cruel despot. It was so brilliantly American and reminiscent about why we like having our neighbors to the south. Props, Americans!

The message: Feed your own mind, question what you're told and don't be a jerk to people, mixed in with some colorful anecdotes and opinions. It was an eclectic potpourri of his ideas that ranged from football/people watching parties at William Shatner's house to human rights and filesharing music with remote teenaged Sri Lankans, self education and why it's okay for him to teach your children to shove beans into their sinuses, the internal struggle that stemmed from his guest judging RuPaul's drag race and the fact that every nation is full of the same humanity & vulnerability and we don't have to be afraid of badguys all the time- but don't take his word for it, go see for yourself. A well rounded show, is what I'm saying.

I took one super crappy picture that made Mr Rollins look like one of those Halloween-Leaf-Bag people doing the robot... from which you could argue that it was a setup and that I didn't see Mr Rollins at ALL because clearly I went to see a bag of leaves with a tape recorder in it.. or that I am just crazy, so I opted for a hand-stamp photo instead for my photo of the day. We can't have anyone questioning my sanity now, can we? No questions about it; it's questionable. >:D That's how I like to keep it... But I still like the hand stamp picture better.

The stamp reads, "Spectra Sonic". I kind of wish it was a tattoo.

They mate with their braids.

Me: SoOOoooo, Neilypants, what are we doing for VALENTINES DAAAAAY???

Neil: Um... you said you didn’t want to bother with it.

Me: *Silence and staring for 3 entire minutes* ......... Surely you know that’s female for, “I want you to think I’m special enough to ignore what I said about it not mattering to me and shower me with attention because I totally deserve it despite what I said earlier about it during the test phase....” Plus I ALWAYS make all the plans and you NEVER do blah blah blah...guilt guilt guilt... exaggerate, drag the issue out etc etc

Neil: Um, yeah.. I MADE plans, Asshole. I’m onto you. Secret plans.

Me: You better have. *squint* Secret eh?

Neil: Yeah, I thought we could go outdoor skating in the afternoon, I got a babysitter.

Me: Hmmm... Sounds nice, but I hate skating and does it have to be in the afternoon? I was just outside yesterday, I mean how many times do I have to go outside in a week? A hundred? a hundred and one? But really. That’s our Valentines plan? Skating?

Neil: You are seriously the worst person ever.

Me: I know. I’m sorry. I like your plan. Really I do, let me make it up to you by us going for sushi and seeing Avatar in 3D instead of that skating thing on Valentines. BrrrRrrr... chilly out... brrrr.... You know me, I’m an altruist at heart. Only thinking about you, Darling.

Neil: Romance oozes from your pores

Me: *chewing gum* Huh? Are you saying that I have big pores? I'm working on it okay? I didn't think it was that noticeable... Frig, it's like they just won't stop expanding like little windows opening up on the great skyscraper that is my face... Oooh, this is a pg 13 movie; probably not a ton of blood, eh? Bummer. I hear there are dragony things, though and that they mate with their braids.. SoOoounds ROMANTIC! Maaating with their braaAaaiiiiiids, Neily, their BraaAaaaaiiiiids...... *uncomfortable winking* Hey, do you think I should grow out my hair?

Neil: Okay if you don’t want to go skating, Avatar it is.

Me: I don’t know.. maybe we should see Wolfman instead.

Neil: Seriously? you’re changing the plan again? We’re seeing Avatar

Me: Alright, we’ll see the movie you want, Darling. After all, it’s Valentine’s day. Valentines day is about selflessness.

.....movie watching (simulation).
My goodness, but if we are not just the most attractive pair...

...leaving the theatre (simulation)
Hubba hubba.

Neil: So did you like it?

Me: Um.. It was okay... it was like a Disney teen star. Pretty enough, but not a whole lot to it otherwise, you know? Like... it should just keep on riding the teen-idol train until the looks start dragging and it needs to be digitally enhanced because college isn’t probably going to work out for it anyway. Better to tell it now and save years of heartache and disappointment. Gets yours while you can, Avatar, get yours while your parents are still rooting for you.

Neil: It’s up for an Oscar...

Me: Really? Well I’m sure if it flips it’s hair enough and says, “Oopsydoodles” a lot, it’ll get what it wants. I’m not mad.. It’s just the way it is. After all, it was very very pretty. And hey! Good News! The cat isn’t in heat anymore!

Neil: GARBAGE WATER GARBAGE WATER GARBAGE WATER

Me: HEY *gag* no fair *gag* you can't say that *hack* you know it makes me throw up! *gag* Bad Form, Neil!! *gag*

So there. I’ve shared the romance of my Valentine’s day with you lot, except for the part where I scratched my valentine's day lotto ticket, hoping for enough money to buy a new toilet. I'm stilly madly in lovey with Neil. Gross, eh? I am though.

Now get back to minding your own business and don’t forget to enter my CONTEST.

Today is the DaaAAaaaaY

Inglourious Basterds is going to be on Pay-per-view as of today!

I never did get to see it in the theatre and I have been pacing around, mumbling to myself and worrying ever since. Now, I've built it all up in my head and might have impossible expectations. I must ready myself. I must make haste. I must prepare the snacks, because come 8:35ish o'clock tonight, I will be gussying myself up with lipstick and an assortment of other beauty accoutrements, then plunking myself down in front of the tube and fixing my eyeballs upon the screen, perhaps weeping a little in anticipation. I will gently dab away the tears, reattach my false eyelashes, bat them a few times and breathe a sigh of relief.

So if any of you ruin it for me, I will be a troll on your blog forever. Don't tell me anything except that you LOVED it so much. I don't care if you're a liar. Lie to me. Don't try and sound smart, unless you're telling me how awesome the movie is without giving me a single hint or detail or bit of information to be 'ready for' or any such other clue. I don't want to be ready for a great twist, I don't want to know that it's kinda gory... etc etc. I want to find these things out on my own. I can totally take it. I don't want to know what your favourite bit was. So stop crawling all over me, trying to give away all the best parts already. Get ahold of yourself, don't be that person who can't stand it if they don't get to tell you that they KNOW about the exciting twist and have to tell you it's there - but they'll "NEEEEEVER tell you what is IIiIIIiiIIiiiIIsSSssSS!" as they froth and spit all over themselves with the excitement of knowing there is a twist. Then I sit there and guess at what the twist will be the whole time and I'm usually right. Just keep your composure, please.

I will decide later if I'm going to buy it (I am, I can just tell that I am). I am curious to find out if it's as awesome as Zombieland, which is one of the new greatest movies of all time. Imagine if they combined the two and then made them 3D... whoa. I could totally be a movie mixer for my new big timey job. For example:

Gone with the Wind + A fish called Wanda= The Wind smells like Fish....or The Wind called Wanda is Gone with the Fish, Wanda called the fish then wind blew her skirt over her head? The fish has Wind? All great title ideas. Hellooo! John Cleese would make a far superior Rhett Butler. You know it, I know it. Clark Gable is up in heaven smacking his head as he reads this blog and realizes it. Even now, he might be asking God to go back in time, make the movie in the 70s instead and give the job to Cleese. I know I am. Jamie Lee Curtis could totally pull off Mammy. Kevin Kline could be Ashley. Oh Ashley! Vivien Leigh could stay Scarlett... even though she died in 1967. They can do amazing things with animatronics these days.

That right there is enough to put on my curriculum vitae. The bigwig CEOS will probably want to make me the head of the career department at the working place. I'll tell them that I need time to think it over because commuting to a job isn't really what I had in mind, unless they want to put a helicopter pad on my roof. Then I'll finally have that Michellicopter I've always dreamed of, with a banner that reads, wheeeeeeee (and never gets caught in the propeller).

Also, I got a new coffee maker.

In which we are carjacked by elk, boar, deer, wolves and goats.

Let's go on a nature hike/drive, shall we? It's a Canadian Safari park! Hurruh!

This is the rare and beautiful slack jawed zombie deer.

This is a Tibetan Crowbar Goat, used in ancient times for jacking up cars so that the tires could be more easily stolen, prized for their mobility.

Showoff + wolf= showolf.

Some people were sitting really nicely, quietly doing up their lipstick while we were distracted by the pretty beasties.

Hurry Libby! Do up the window! We'll catch his lips and Eleanore can do his lipstick too!

Little Miss Bison here got a little too friendly with my Neily... I got out and punched her in the kneecaps. You leave my man alone. I saw this same Hussy buying all of the M&Ms and tube tops in Walmart last week.

Another one?? I TOLD Neil not to wear musk today. It sets a poor example for the children.

Gangster roadblock. It was ascary.

AwWWwwWWwww. Nature is just beautiful.

"You give me that camera and any cash or apples you got or I will shove these 5 point antlers right down your throat"

Dammit, Neil.

Holy Smokes. Sock beast redux.

His name is Gossamer. He's the Streetster bunny-Get it? *laughing ensues* He's the Smoking Bun *people are doubling over from that hilarious joke of mine* Perfect for that new baby. He is made of a brand new sock and his cigarette is organic & cushy soft with no small parts, no choking hazard here, it would make a perfect gift for that new little bundle of joy.

I know, I know.... Hell.
Sewing is soothing & fun, though.

Tada.

To be perfectly honest, I wish I could have found nice clowns. At least these ones are honest. Neil says he likes his clown pants, which ruined everything and made me tell him that he's practically John Wayne Gacy, after which he made THIS face at me:

And I am still trying to figure out what it means.

The love of my life.

The really great news is that my parents got me a sewing machine. This is great for the following two reasons, which are: a)I will be able to MAKE Neil's Christmas pants and b) I am a terrible seamster. (FYI I couldn't write sew-er without calling myself a terrible sewer). Anyhow, the point here is that I can now give Neil poorly sewn, super unique pants!! Maybe I'll sew ruffles onto his clown pants, or maybe I'll sew the arms of his tshirts all shut.

More book store frugality (is that a word? Yes it is. Yes it is. Is too.)

One day, when I'm ultra famous, this play that I've just painstakingly written will be played in the great playhouses all over the world:

Me: I'd like to return this book.

Clerk: Okay, is there a reason?

Me: It's tripe.

Clerk: You've read it?

Me: Um... if I've read it, can I still return it?

Clerk: Have you?

Me: Hm? Um.... Noooo.

Clerk: Then why are you returning it?

Me: Um.. I don't like the cover.

Clerk: That's not a valid reason.

Me: It's haunted... I mean it was a gift from one of my stalkers. It would be inappropriate to keep it.

Clerk: Your name is on the receipt.

Me: I have 8 more of them. That's too many.

Clerk: Lady, this isn't a library.

Me: I know. It's even better- there is coffee here.

Clerk: There are 43 people waiting behind you.

Me: They probably bought this stupid book, too and want to return it, because it's lousy. I mean- I didn't read it and they probably didn't either.

Clerk: You know what? Fine. *chaching*

Me: Sucker. I totally read it.

Clerk: *rolls eyes*.. I know.

---------------------six minutes later---------------------

Me: Hi. I'd like to buy this book.

Clerk: History of Madness, huh?

Me: Here is Neil's rewards card. That's 10% off for me, right?

Clerk: Are you Neil?

Me: ... Yes. I am. I'm Neil. I have hairy legs and sometimes I wear a kilt. I'm a college teacher. I mean professor. I like homemade muffins.

Clerk: Uh huh... And you'll leave after I do this?

Me: For now.

Clerk: Excellent.

Me: Which days do you usually work?

Clerk: You should get a library card.

Me: Nah. I can't be bothered to return the books... too many fines. Ech.

People of Walmart- Living the Dream.

Neil and I were invited to a very ostentatious dinner party tonight. It was wonderful that there was a 'scary' dress code, because it gave us an opportunity to fulfill our dream of being real. live. Walmart people. Nothing is scarier. Nothing.

I know. It is such a convincing belly; and pretty flattering.

Just like in High School.

Isn't he HANDSOME? He even cut his own hair for the occasion. *swoon* THAT is dedication.

Yep. Alert Readers, you've probably noticed that those ARE the mudflap girl pants I bought for him for Christmas three years ago. I'm just so glad they can be put to such rigorous, good use.

We were thrilled that the dessert platter of Joe Louis cakes & twinkies were so well received at the party. For real. Everyone secretly loves twinkies. The pork rinds, though... I couldn't bear to let anyone actually eat them... ewww.

Also, I want everyone to note how artfully Minnie Mouse's fingers are caressing my fake belly button. Gross eh? It's perfect.

Swanky, huh?

Today's Work-in-progress.

I'm painting my Neily Sweetums. This is as far as I got today:

Sketched out. Hee hee, so far Neil looks Herman Munster..

3 hours in.

Tada. The photo makes it look orange-er than it really is, though. Getting there. We'll see how it goes tomorrow. But look at the picture within a picture within a picture... It's like that neverending David Hasselhoff speedo animation out there in internetland. I normally just draw portraits and don't paint them, so I'm happy enough with it so far. I need to look at it with new eyes tomorrow, fix the wonky bits and then sell it for a kerjillion dollars. I know it'll happen. I just. know. Or hang it in the stairwell. Whichever comes first. Maybe I'll surprise him with a shrine. Who wouldn't want a shrine?? How delightfully awkward!

Cheers.

Poor man's Starbucks- WITH RAINBOW SPRINKLES.

.
Yeah. I can't afford to have Starbucks' giant lattes for all of my daily meals. But here's a trick for you broke and/or lazy people who don't wanna go allLLlllLll the way to whichever of the thirty-two Starbucks Franchises that are 8 feet away from any of your given doorways..


Here's what you need:

• A Starbucks instant Bold Italian coffee packet thingy (I know, you all have a love-hate thing with this stuff. I love)
• 8 oz boiling water
• A sprinkle or two of actual pumpkin pie spice. The spice, not the $78,646,872.67 syrup from Starbucks. You can get it at the grocery for like a dollar and it will last until you die.
  
• A can-o-whipped cream.
• Rainbow Sprinkles. Because you have to one up Starbucks if you're gonna fake it. They NEVER give you rainbow sprinkles.
• However much sugar & cream/milk/whatever you usually like.

Then you mix them all. Except the whipped cream. You spray that on top of the coffee and then directly into your mouth. Then you eat the whipped cream from the coffee and spray more onto it. Repeat.

**dramatization**

It is remarkably similar to a pumpkin spice latte. I'm such a shiester! Also, you could totally put booze in this. I've always thought that pumpkin spice lattes were missing wild turkey. It's very Thanksgiving-y. And they just always give you those funny looks when you whip a mickey of whiskey out of your diaper bag right in the Chapters Starbucks, then ask you to leave. Ha Ha just kidding. It's easier at home, is what I'm saying.

SEE?? I save you people money. And what thanks do I get? huh? NONE. Unless you thank me, then I'll get me some thanks alright.

Also, look to your right and up a little to find my NEW poor advice column!! Great idea, eh? I know... K... pressing questions are onnnn their way... any second... desperate readers will click there...... ---->