Dirty QWERTY makes everything more enjoyable

So today I attempt to create a post on my phone with the slide typing on the Blogger website (rather than the app) because the computer is still out of service and this post really requires two photos (which the Blogger app doesn't allow for whatever reason). Dog #1 is dozing under my arm and Dog#2 is dozing behind the couch (both are snoring) and life is good. Seems like the type of atmosphere that is conducive to these kind of things but I really miss having a QWERTY I can clickity clack my fingers across. I refuse to allow this device of convenience to kill my vocabulary; however, I may be unable to stop the atrophy of my finger muscles if I let the keyboard lie untouched for much longer. I believe I will have to visit her and caress her plastic keys very soon (especially considering NaNoWriMo begins on Friday and I am determined to complete a novel -- not just come up with a million distractions and excuses not to).

That being said, feast your eyes on this:

And you may ask yourself...What 

is this oversized voodoo doll doing in the thrift shop?  That is a question for another day. Today, I simply implore you to look cloooser, Simba.

I love you like a tomato...

a) ...but you need to hurry and ketchup.
b) ...but I love your parents like an  aubergine.
c) ...because tomatoes are the same color as blood and just as delicious.
d) Contrary to popular belief, tomatoes are actually very loving.

Catalina Island

...a place where salad dressing is born. It is also a place of amazing wine mixers.

Oops, I did it again.

But which is luckiest?

Quickie

For once, I don't feeling like waxing tangential tonight. (Could be that I'm tired.) A quick quip or two should get us through this tunnel of sadness.

#1 Get your "cool" OUT of my "pool"! It doesn't belong there. (Unless I've been misspelling "cpoolool" all this time and didn't realize it.)

Brown-nosing Campaign Gone Awry

I swear I wrote a post last night. I have no idea where all of my text ran off to, nor do I know why it did not get posted. That being said, the joke I made was something along the lines of "Looking for the perfect card for your terrible balls?"

Actually that was supposed to be boss but t2t  strikes again! (Though I suppose your balls could use a greeting card every once in a while. It's hard work being stuck next to Penis all the time.)

I also recall a tirade on the overlap of holidays in retail but that topic's been hashed and rehashed and is trending on Twitter currently so... (I don't f****** know; I'm still apathetic towards Twitter.)

Back to the photo...which is conveniently placed at the bottom of this post whenever I do mobile blogging (meh). When would it be appropriate to use a Halloween card as a Bosses Day card? The Wicked Witch of the West, maybe?  Voldemort? Someone with a humpback or skin condition? (The previous candidates definitely qualify here.) I don't know. Post your thoughts below.

This shit is bananas

...and the bananas are shit, according to the lack of variety on the Goodwill bookshelf.

Maybe the blurb on the back of the book can explain the repulsive power of Eliot's Bananas...

"Things should be peachy. Junie isn't entirely sure what her problem is. She's just moved into a Brooklyn apartment with her cool longtime boyfriend Leon, a drummer who adores her. She flits through a string of temp jobs in funky thrift shop clothes. But beneath her veneer of quirky humor there's a nagging feeling of dissatisfaction with her life.

She's about to go bananas. When Junie meets Eliot, who is twice her age, and his cat, Alfie, at the vet's office, she's convinced she's found the zest that's missing in her life. A burnt-out sci-fi writer in search of a muse, Eliot is apples to Junie's oranges. It's not long before Junie's in his kitchen being offered a banana...and then some.

Losing herself in the mayhem of a fling, Junie slowly realizes that kinky diversions are a poor distraction from what's really eating her.
Only when she stops obsessing about Eliot and starts peeling away the layers of her family's past will she see that what she really wants has been waiting for her all along...and that her future's ripe with possibilities."

I love puns, but this blurb is a mess. My guess? The book's a lemon.

Terrorism 101

If you're a fan of cavity searches and staring contests with federal agents, grab this shirt befofe heading to the airport.

(Short post because I'm posting guiltily while hanging with friends.)

The Power of Three

Are you trying to boss me around or just propositioning me? (Or, dare I say...both???)

I wish I'd bought this, if just to see the reaction on a friend's face when (s)he opened the gift box.

Six Minutes!

I really have no time if I want to make my deadline, so I will just say...

...

I wish I has bought this tripartite of portraits so I could recreate the effects with Rick Astley photos.

The big question would be whether I would display them in the same room -- so the joke was a quick one -- or in separate locations -- so as to set two different themes for the rooms.

Damn, I missed the deadline by a minute.

Walt Whittleman

"Push it. Push it real good."

These Are a Few of My Favorites

1. People watching at the gym
2. Window shopping
3. Sarcasm
4. Grammar
5. Salt and Pepper shakers
...
-13. Taking out the trash
...
165. '90s nostalgia

Many of these things meet in the trash bungalow (or, as I meant to type, "can below").

I had intended to grow this tedious and trying-too-hard (there has got to be a single word to express the adjectival sense of that idea, bit nothing that comes to mind feels right) introduction into a punchline, delivered at the moment of rhetorical climax, but I can't see beneath the ellipsis that parts the two things in my mind. So I give up will try again.

[My Revisory Committee is in session so it will improve upon my previous paragraph now. See below.]

"I had intended to fluff this flaccid and overcompensating foreplay (of words) into an ejaculation released at the moment of (rhetorical) climax, but I have a headache."

In other news, if at first you don't succeed*...don't take "no" for an answer (wink wink RAPE).

*I am eternally amused by this New cell phone because its autocorrect faculty creates the illusion of Freudian slips. Take above, for example. The phone chose to repeat some words...to arrive at the inspirational message: "If at first you don't succeed, don't succeed."

I will leave you with that. But I'll be back Solomon (or "sooooon").

Holy typo, Batman!

I suppose I should find some fodder for today's bit.

Since I don't have much time before the day ends (this fact being important because a. Waiting until 12:01 to finalize this post will cause me to fail at consecutive days blogging which exacerbates my just-below-the-surface OCD and b. This post can only handle a few "well-placed" tangents, a fact which determines the maximum blog length), I offer you a flowchart to explain the sequence of book titles. An interpretation of their adjacencies' sequence, if you will:

The Ultimate Guide to Atlanta Schools: "I am looking for a college but can't relocate and ( don't wanna get into too much debt / only have community college SAT scores)."

Your Way to Success: "Surely education is the way to get ahead in this world."

The Psychology of The Sopranos: "But TV tells me that ingenuity and an enterprising spirit (and crime) get you ahead in this world. I believe everything I see on TV."

You Can Have It All:
"Yes, I can see how becoming a mob boss might lead to feelings of entitlement (and, I imagine, fulfillment).

Fish!: A Remarkable Way to Raise Morale and Deliver Results:
"Yes, I trust a mob boss has some pretty remarkable techniques to deliver results. I guess the morale boosts involve some sort of monetary incentive."

Raising Kids Who Care and A Practical Guide for New Dads seem a bit incongruous, but I invite your exposition.

Mold imconvenience

So the computer is dead but now I have this fancy smartphone that presumes to know what i'm typing. I downloaded the blogger app to tide us over until the computer gets fixed. (For what it's worth, the computer should be an easy fix, but since it took me a week to convince myself to go grocery shopping -- fall is beautiful! -- it may be another week before it's fixed.)

That being said, bask in the hilarity of this grammar Nazi's predicament (and that's to say nothing about the limitations imposed on my tangential cerebral pathways) and look at a few photos with me.

Alright, so it appears that the mobile Blogger limits me to a single pic. But perhaps that's a better way to get the job done. I mean, feng shui is about clearing out the clutter so your chi doesn't get clogged. It seems that headless Supermom is my chi's laxative.

Yum.

(Though I could definitely be more regular. In blogging...or whatever.)

So about Supermom: Wouldn't you think a headless body the antithesis of a hero? I mean even when Superman died -- it's not a spoiler if it happened over a decade ago (just don't tell the Neo-Nazi amnesiac what came of Hitler unless you like eating curbs) -- his head was still attached. Pretty sure even zombie superheroes retain some part of their heads...but not Supermom! Who needs a head with a brain to question traditional gender roles when your womb churns out boys that your breast milk (nectar of the gods...er, Christian God) turns into moral and upstanding citizens? Why not replace your finely-coiffed mane with some metal hooks...God knows you could use some more places to hang your pots and pans.