Meet Aislyn and Marie. Two best friends offering real-life, humorous takes on everything from America to Zoloft, all while raising questions and raising babies. Sink your teeth into these mouthwatering morsels of insight, of wisdom and of life experience, uncensored.

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Thursday, July 31, 2008


Have you ever had an experience where you've gotten a glimpse into the future?


Marie and Aislyn fifty years from now.

I'll let you come to your own conclusion on who's who.

Picture courtesy of MYSAC


Ahhh... good old FOX News... not only misquoting a supposed murderer, but making it a headline as well.

They claim Casey Anthony says she's "not level" - TWICE - in a phone conversation with her brother. What she's actually saying in the tape is the phrase, "On that level." I highly doubt a sociopath would admit she's "not level" from jail when people are looking at this case as a homicide.

I don't care what happens to this woman, but for crap's sake, get your freaking story right, Fox News.

Here are some others who think FOX News isn't real news:

Get your own FOX NEWS T-shirt

More facts about America's favorite state-run network

About FOX News & reporting fairness

UPDATE: The inacccurate article was removed from the FOX News website and has been replaced with a more generic story about the conversation the girl had with her brother. I guess they caught their mistake!


This was the site in Valparaiso city, Chile on July 30. A 26-year old stripper swung around a lamp pole while people looked on.

I love this crazy world!

Photo courtesy of Eliseo Fernandez, Reuters

Wednesday, July 30, 2008


Twenty-seven going on twenty-eight. Just for the record, that's how old I am. Apparently I look about 10 years younger. Ever since I had my daughter, she is almost 13 months, I've been getting awkward stares and questions wherever I go.

For example: I was in the grocery store and this old man toddled up to me and asked if she was my daughter and I sweetly replied "yes". "Oh, (look of death) you look so young to have a child", he replied. "Oh, you look too old to still be standing", I think to myself. Another incident occurred during a playgroup I take her too twice a week. I was walking through the library, where this is held, and an elderly Asian gentlemen comes up to me. "Ohhhhh, you loo so yun to be haing babaaaaay." Oh yeah, well "I think I saw a stray cat behind the dumpster at K-Mart, you may want to hurry."

I just don't get it. Is there some class at the senior center that teaches the elderly how to belittle women that may or may not be too young to have a child. What business is it of anyone how old I am or that I am a mother?

This brings me to my next issue. This playgroup that I attend. Most of the other mothers that go are probably at least ten years older than I am. There are some my age and some grandmothers that bring their grandchildren.

Most of the women my age have brand new babies and one other child that is feeling neglected and chooses to show it during this time. I don't feel comfortable having a conversation with someone when their breast is exposed while nursing their child. I don't feel comfortable having conversations with these older women due to the fact that they look at me like I stole precious time away from their childbearing years. Hey, it's not my fault that you waited until your biological clock switched to it's backup battery before you decided to get knocked up. Lastly, I don't feel comfortable having conversations with these grandmother's who obviously got stuck taking care of these children and bring them to this group so they can terrorize the rest of us for a full hour.

Why do I even go, you ask? Well, it is one of those great mysteries in life. I put myself in this uncomfortable space twice a week for one hour because my daughter loves it. She loves dancing and clapping along when they sing songs. She loves digging through the toys to find the exact one she wants. She loves looking at the other children like they are insane. (Wonder where she gets that from?)

I put myself in that situation because that is what mothers do. We sacrifice our own needs and wants for the needs of our children.

Do I want recognition for the sacrifice? No.

Do I want people to change? No.

Am I craving Chinese food now? YES!



"Don't be late for your first class! If you've ever had trouble waking up with a regular alarm clock, it's time to meet Clocky. Clocky is the uniquely designed mobile alarm clock that is guaranteed to get you on your feet. It gives you one chance to get up, but if you snooze, Clocky will jump off of your nightstand and wheel around your room looking for a place to hide. Mischievous and loud, Clocky is both hands-down adorable and surprisingly effective..."

Mean. Mean. Mean.

Get your own torture device online by clicking here.


Thea Eck, a long-time friend and extraordinary artist is asking for you to participate in a show she will be exhibiting at the Peabody Essex Museum in Salem, MA.

PEM invites you to submit a photograph inspired by the work of Polar Attractions artist Thea Eck. Thea uses toys in her photographs to explore polar themes. We want you to do the same! Gather some toys, grab a camera, and give us your Polar Point of View.

All accepted contest entries will be featured in an online gallery. Four winning photographs will be printed and displayed in conjunction with the Polar Attractions exhibition during the last four weeks of the show (May 9 – June 7, 2009). Thea will select her two favorites and you, our visitors, will vote on two more.

Please click here for more information about the contest and Thea's exhibit.

Long Night Walk, 2008, by Thea A. Eck. Photograph. Artist featured in Polar Attractions.


I'm sure you've been hearing about the 2-year old girl that is missing from Orlando whose moronic mother decided to wait weeks before reporting her missing.

Now, photos have surfaced of her partying in a club on June 20, which is five days after her daughter was last seen.

To watch video from Fox News just click here.

This woman is a disgrace to mother's everywhere.....

Her property overlooking the lake of fire has been reserved.

I don't normally voice such a harsh opinion while the story is so new but come on, she borrowed a shovel from her neighbor and the smell of human decay was detected in the trunk of her car by trained dogs. (Those dogs don't lie)

Casey Anthony (mother) was upset because they wouldn't let her have a Bible in her jail cell.

I'd be praying too bitch.


Well, I know now more than I ever wanted to about the show "Three's Company". Like any good reporter you do research before writing.

I can't do any more. Sorry. All I think of when I see Suzanne Somers is thighs being abused needlessly and when I see Don Knotts all I hear is Barney Fife. Although, I was not aware that Knotts was born in Morgantown, WV.

If you want to know more than you should about this show just click here

Did you ever sit down to really listen to the lyrics of the theme song? Sure, you know "come and knock on our door, we've been waiting for you"...but after than you do the old "nana nana nana nanaaaaaa three's company too". Come on. You know you do!

Here are the real lyrics:

Come and knock on our door...
We've been waiting for you....
Where the kisses are hers and hers and his,
Three's company too.

Come and dance on on our floor....
Take a step that is new...
We've a lovable space that needs your face,
Three's company too.

You'll see that life is a frolic and laughter is calling for you...
Down at our rendez-vous,
Three's company, too!

Are you friggin' kidding me? When Marie and I first discovered this lyrical disaster I think we simultaneously pissed ourselves over the phone.

"Where the kisses are hers and hers and his"
What is this. Some freaky orgy. Just the thought of Don Knotts involved in an orgy makes me puke in my mouth a little.

"We've a lovable space that needs your face"
Come one, come all. If you have a face, your welcome in their space for an orgy with the Thigh Queen and Barney Fife. Ewwwwwwwwwwww!

I'm done with this......

"Three's Company" lyrics by Don Nicholl and Joe Raposo

Tuesday, July 29, 2008




Richard Gere.  

Young Richard Gere:

Old Richard Gere comparison photo:


Old Richard Gear is chestacular!

Editors Note:  Dusty - Aislyn requested this post.  This is in no way meant to "show-up" or discredit your celebrity-like hotness. 


Purely gratuitous...

Brad Pitt:

Nick Lachey (sans lip gloss, though):

Haden Christensen:


Ah yes, Chuck Norris.

Unless you've been under a rock or are a current member of AARP (not an insult - my mom is an AARP member), you probably have heard of the Chuck Norris phenomenon.

Here's a brief explanation from our friends at

"Chuck Norris Facts are satirical facts about martial artist and actor Chuck Norris that have become an Internet phenomenon and as a result have become widespread in popular culture. The facts are normally absurd hyperbolic claims about Norris's toughness, attitude, virility, 'alpha male status,' sophistication and masculinity, for example:

'There is no chin under Chuck Norris' beard. There is only another fist.'

The facts typically claim that Chuck Norris is some type of irate, all-powerful super-being. The Chuck Norris facts have spread around the world, leading not only to translated versions, but also spawning localized versions mentioning country-specific advertisements and other Internet phenomena. Allusions are also sometimes made to his use of roundhouse kicks to perform seemingly any task, his large amount of body hair with specific regard to his beard, and his role in the action television series Walker, Texas Ranger."

How could you not laugh at that? I guess it all started on Late Night with Conan back in '05 and has been a pop-culture hit every since.

Just for fun, here are some images to exemplify the insanity:

*There was an image here but I had to remove it because somehow I missed the fact that it had the F-Word in it. Box of Chocolates has a strict "No F-Word" policy*


At my church, we have this big worship service every few months called "The Refiner's Fire." Instead of a normal service with worship, sermon and offering, this service is pretty much all singing with a little bit of preaching and a whole lot of inspiration. (Just a sidenote: If you've never had any sort of spiritual experience, this service will ensure you're feelin' something by the time you walk out the door an hour and a half later).

Now, let's rewind for a moment.

Every Sunday that my fiance' Dusty and I go to church, we sit behind a silver-haired, five foot nothin', octogenarian named Jean. Personally, I've never actually met her, but apparently she's quite popular within in the parish, as she's always being mentioned by staff and elders.

Jean is quite a character - and if you're sitting in the center section, there's no way you can miss her. After virtually every statement of faith via the pastor, there's Jean, six rows back in her aisle seat, with a resounding "Amen!" I've never told Dusty this, but in my mind, I've been referring to her as "Amen Jean." Admittedly, her perpetual much-louder-than-a-whisper "amens" were a bit distracting at first, but after a while you learn to get used to it. I mean, after all, the lady's 85...

Well, Sunday night was this season's Refiner's Fire service. After about 25 solid minutes of stimulating worship, the head pastor calls Amen Jean up to the podium to say a few words. Her message was poignant, faith filled and quite honestly more inspiring than 90 percent of our pastoral staff's sermons. Yeah, her ear monitor/mic kept falling out of place and down to her collar.... and sure, she complained about the lights blaring in her face... but her message was real. It wasn't contrived, it wasn't showy - it was true and from the heart.

Since I was a kid, I've always had a soft spot for older people. Maybe because I was so close with my grandparents... or maybe because you just kinda know, that after eight decades of life on this earth, that person is probably more wise than the most educated scholar or the most schooled theologian. They've almost graduated from the School of Life, so you better damn well listen to the wisdom they're offering you. Life experience is far more valuable than (Aislyn's husband's) gold. (Ha ha, that was a good one).

In the words of Amen Jean,
"There's a 4th River in Pittsburgh - the River of God. Amen? AMEN!"


Watch this video and tell me you aren't amazed!

These two men raised this lion from a baby and returned him to the wild.

Some time later they went to see how he was doing and this is the reaction they got when the lion recognized them.

Click This


I am starting a list of websites or stories that are "worth mentioning".

Meaning; a worthy cause, a touching story, etc...

I like to take a break from the humorous takes on everyday life once in a while to support causes that I am passionate about.

Don't worry...

I can't not make fun of things for too long.

Today's worthwhile cause is:

Make It Right

(you may think I support this because Brad Pitt is a part of....naw. He's got his hands full with all them thur kids. I've made donations in the past. It is a very interactive site that shows you exactly what your money will go towards.)


I have a bit of an issue today. Well, I have a bit of an issue with various things everyday, but today it is with my cell phone company. I won't drag the name through the dirt but I will go into sarcastic detail about my problem.

Our cell phone bill was due yesterday and I always hit #666 from my phone to pay it know I am exaggerating when I say 666, but I feel like I am paying Satan once a month. So yesterday I dial and have to go through the automated song and dance. Not paying attention I pressed two instead of one when when the language option came up. I PRESSED TWO! You know what that means don't you? My call was sent through towers across the land to a little shack in Mexico where someone says "hola".

How was I to get back to that place where I could hear English again without hanging up and starting over. "No habla Espanol", I said. "Ingles por favor".

This is what I hear:

Now I mean no disrespect to the Spanish speaking population out there. I love my Hispanics...I just don't speak the language, and quite frankly, I don't think I should have to press one for English when I am in America. Why don't you have to press one for Spanish? English should be the assumed language unless otherwise specified by pressing one. I bet they don't have to press one for German in Germany!

FYI - I had to hang up and start over.

Monday, July 28, 2008


Have you heard of this?!?

Garra rufa, also known as, Doctor Fish, are being used at a salon and day spa in Alexandria, VA. Apparently these little carnivores eat away the dead skin on your tootsies for a fabulous pedicure.

This treatment will set you back $35 for a 15 minutes and $50 for a half hour.

Tracy Roberts, 33, of Rockville, Md., heard about it on a local radio show. She said it was "the best pedicure I ever had" and has spread the word to friends and co-workers.

"I'd been an athlete all my life, so I've always had calluses on my feet. This was the first time somebody got rid of my calluses completely," she said.

I hope the owner/operator of this spa is giving these little "nail biters" a nice cut of his profit. I can see the Fish and Wildlife Service coming in to evaluate the working conditions these fish are subjected to.

Tracy Robert's quote was taken from the Associated Press



Enough already...


When I was little I would see a rainbow and wonder, "is there really a pot of gold out there somewhere?" As I grew older the thought of pots of gold and little men dressed in green faded from my thought process. Life went on and I grew wise. It was fun to imagine all of those tales we were told when younger. Tooth fairies, Easter bunnies, and of course Santa Claus.

Was it more fun to live in a world where anything was possible? Sure, but there comes a point (for me it was at age 7) when you see your parents eating the cookies you'd left for santa or waking up in mid-tooth fairy money exchange and your dreams are crushed.

OK...on to the point now.

My husband has formed a severe fascination with gold. Not investing in companies that sell or make gold. Actual gold doubloons, bars and bullion's. In the coming weeks we will be receiving a shipment of gold and silver. I feel like I've stepped into some parallel world where I should be dressed like a ship wench and my husband should have a parrot on his shoulder. Sure, it's a good, solid investment for our future. If the economy ever fails so horribly that we need to regress into ancient forms of trade, than we'll be set.

I credit his awkward behavior to the fact that he recently quit using tobacco all together and he is filling the void with gold.

Who knows? Maybe I am the one who is not thinking rationally? After all, we do live on an island, he is the captain of a ship and we do have a treasure chest. Well, more of a safety deposit box, but that could be seen as a modern day version of the treasure chest.

I guess dreams really do come true. Only I found my pot of gold at the end of a short, handsome, obsessive and nic-fitting man who may or may not get too much sun on a daily basis.

Sunday, July 27, 2008


No, ladies and gents. I'm not talking about the quartet that made it clear that "Silence is Golden" and "Big Girls Don't Cry". Nor am I talking about the change in scenery that most of America experiences throughout the year.

Here in the "Fabulous Florida Keys", where one of our motto's is "What Happens In The Keys, Stays in Your Liver", (classy huh?) we have some seasons you may or may not be aware of.

Our four seasons consist of:

1. Hurricane

2. Tourist

3. Dry

4. Rainy

All of the above can fall under the Summer season, seeing as how it is hotter than hell about 300 days a year here.

Let me elaborate on each of these seasons for you.

Hurricane season runs from June 1 through November 30. During that time, people in the "strike" zone invade local Walmarts stocking up on everything from auto supplies to xanax. We wait patiently and monitor the weather to see what mother nature has in store for us. If the dreaded and often awkwardly named, storm forms and starts heading our way, one of two things happen. Evacuation or hunkering down. Here in the Florida Keys, most often all tourists are made to leave as hotels shut down. But the locals are a different breed. Most times, homeowners get this crazy look in their eye like they can take a storm head on. I have stayed for some and evacuated for others. It is all about personal choice. Law enforcement officials can only make their suggestion, but they do not go door to door and force people to leave.
My problem is when people think they can tie themselves to a tree and think they will be fine. Sure. You can tie yourself to a tree, but that VW Bug that decided to take flight may smack you square in the face.

I am not making light of this weather phenomenon. My view is that you should not try to be a hero, or shero. Get the hell out. We can see the devastation that these storms can cause.

Tourist season is quite possibly my least favorite season here. This invasive season occurs at various times during the year when people from all around the world decide to take over the islands here. Germans, Canadians, British, French, pretty much every major country is represented during this time.


Being a former employee of various types of customer service related industries, I have seen my fair share of stupidity. Whether is was someone driving on the wrong side of the road or someone asking me "how many time a day the sunset cruise leaves." I really don't know what happens to people when they embark on their dream vacation to the Florida Keys. What country is it fashionable in to wear socks with sandals? Who in the world wants to see an overweight, hairy German man in a too small speedo? Who orders room service then decides to try to "get some" in the half hour it takes me to deliver the food? Who rents a boat with no knowledge of navigation? I'll tell you who does all of these. TOURISTS.

We have one main road in and out of the Florida Keys and I am less than impressed when it takes me 30 minutes to get one mile. My proposal is that we implement some sort of entry plan. Only a certain amount of tourists in the Keys at one time. A maximum capacity if you will. It isn't that ridiculous. They don't keep selling tickets to football games. They have a limit. They don't have people sitting on top of each other on airplanes. There is a limit. Even on the island of Nantucket, Mass. they have a limit as to how many cars can be on the island.

I'm just saying.......

Dry season is pretty self-explanatory. It is dry and hot and my lawn is dead. People are in the streets doing rain dances, and we are all on water restrictions. It's hellish.

Rainy season is pretty self-explanatory as well. It is the time of year when it rains more often than not and it does so at all hours of the day. What I love most about rainy season is that I can be standing on one side of my yard and it's sunny and on the other side it is thundering, lightning and dumping rain.

Do I miss "normal" seasons? Shit yes! Have I gotten use to living in a tourist trap? Hell no! I will never get use to the lack of brain usage when people are here on vacation. Nor will I ever get use to not seeing snow on Christmas Day.

So here's to the rest of America that can still experience on of life's great beauties, changing of the seasons.

And here's to all my "locals" who are forced to deal with hurricane, tourist, dry and rainy seasons.

Saturday, July 26, 2008


WE, being the Lucy and Ethel of this proverbial conveyor belt of juicy verbiage.

YOU, being, who has decided that our blog was worthy of being added to your Humor section.

This is truly
Alltop, all the top stories

So check us out at, and browse their categories.

(Just don't forget where you get your daily dose of sweet laughter.)


Can you believe it? I celebrated a "late twenties" birthday just a few short days ago (sorry, not saying the number - you'll have to guess) and I must say, there are quite a few age-related bodily quirks that I've been noticing lately.

For instance, take my underpants.

Well, wait. Don't actually take them. Just listen to my story.

Now before I continue, I understand that maybe this is a bit too much on the TMI side in some respects... but despite my better judgement, I'm going to go ahead and assume that a large percentage of our readers do indeed wear underpants, so they'll be able to relate quite well. However, if you happen to be one of the few sans-briefers at the present time, you might want to stop reading, as this is an underpants-wearing-only post.

Now to the meat of it.

Sadly, I've recently deduced through trial and error that there is no such thing as "underpants shrinkage," but rather, something I like to refer to as, "RBG" or "Rapid Butt Growth." You know how it is... you throw on a pair of underpants, put on your work gear and about 1/8 of the way through your day, those suckers are already creepin' up your crack like no tomorrow. I mean, if you really wanted to go through this kind of maddening undergarment snafu, you would've just donned a thong to your 9 to 5-er, right? Thongs are perma-wedgies, so your discomfort would be naturally understood from the start.

Oh, and for the record - I've evaluated my laundering techniques and have determined that I'm doing everything correctly in that department. So that pretty much cancels out the underwear shrinkage theory.

Perhaps this increase in trunk junk has something to do with the fact that I eat a large Mexican meal just about every other day (see previous post entitled, "My Burrito Issue"). I'm sure there are lots of those "calorie-thingies" in each spicy delicacy I throw down. Or maybe my lack of exercise has something to do with it. Who really knows for sure.

Either way, I've slowly come to realize that my RBG could merely be a bitch slap courtesy of father time. It could be genetic, it could be my body's way of adapting to my surroundings, or it might simply be something I have to learn to deal with over the course of my life...

...and to that I say,

"RBG - come and get me."


Clicky Poo


While in the grocery store today, surrounded by hundreds of people stocking up for the upcoming lobster mini season, my thought process shifted from being extremely annoyed to being completely sarcastic.

Remember when you were little?

Go ahead.

Take a second.



Bumper cars. Yes, bumper cars. Loading up into a piece of plastic and metal then banging the ever-living shit out of each other for enjoyment. Chiropractors everywhere rejoiced at the invention of this spinal nightmare. Children loved the idea of being able to "drive". Adults took out their aggression on each other and often their offspring.

This whole idea got me thinking. (Dangerous I know). Could the invention of this seemingly harmless form of entertainment be the cause for poor driving in America. It all started on February 25, 1890 when James Adair of New York was issued patent #421,887 for an "Electrically Propelled Vehicle."

Since then, I don't believe things have been the same. Somewhere when you were "bumping" around in those cars, a piece of your subconscious mind was invaded with the idea that it was OK to drive like a moron.

Obviously this doesn't apply to everyone. I myself, have never been in any sort of automobile accident. Is that because I never chose to partake in the bumper car craze? I did, however, enjoy go-kart racing, where speed and accuracy were key. That being said, I have numerous moving violations.

As long as you can read some letters off a screen, parallel park in between lines that a semi could fit in and not hit any big bright orange cones during a snail-paced driving test, then we give you a license to operate a few thousand pound piece of metal. That, mixed with your already deep-rooted idea that it is OK to be a defensive driver, is a recipe for delinquency.

I scare myself sometimes


It is humorous to me that we can send people to the moon but we cannot accurately determine the origin of tainted foods. For weeks now we have been hearing how the tomato was to blame for over 1,200 cases of salmonella.


Mexico has been harboring the real criminal. The Jalapeno. All you seekers of the spice be warned. Ask your local grocer before purchasing fresh Jalapenos to see where they came from.

"Mexico has one of the best cuisines in the world. In the United States they don't understand, they have hamburgers and hot dogs. That's not a tradition, that's just junk," said Pedro Garcia while slathering salsa on to fried tacos at a busy street stall in Mexico City.

Mexico's ancient Aztec royalty favored drinks of chile and chocolate and Mayans tried to cure everything from dysentery, to asthma to vertigo with spicy powders.

"In the United States, they have weak stomachs, everything makes them sick," said Garcia, 46, a school administrator.

Yes sir Mr. Garcia. Our stomachs are obviously so weak that we can't stand something as innocent as salmonella.

Keep slathering your salmonella-clad salsa on your fried tacos and hope your indoor plumbing is working in about ten hours when your intestines are trying to escape from your ass.


Quote from Mr. Garcia courtesy of Reuters


As I sit and view our fabulous blog...I notice that our Google AdSense is advertising GPS locations for catching lobster in the Keys.

(if you have no clue why I am mentioning this, read my blog about Mini Lobsters.)

God does have a sense of humor and he likes to show me on a daily basis.


So, yeah... I have a bit of a problem. 

I'm addicted to burritos.  

And I mean, not just a little addicted...  like, a lot addicted.  Like, "three-times-a-week-burrito" addicted.  Like, "the-people-know-me-at-the-burrito-place" addicted.  Like, "my-digestive-system-is-going-to-catch-fire-soon" addicted.  

Catch my drift? 
Is your chip dippin' in my salsa? 
Is your guac meshing with my amole'?

Perhaps I should explain...

Do you remember the "Latin Invasion" of 1999?  Yes, of course you do.  It was that point in American pop-culture history where everyone was pseudo-salsa-ing to Ricky Martin and J-Lo and Marc Anthony.  When lay people were Livin' La Vida Loca and not really knowing why.  Well, apparently there's been some sort of "Burrito Invasion" as of late.  Think about it... Qdoba, Chipotle, Moe's... I mean, these burrito places are popping up everywhere! And there's not a damn thing we can do about it.    

I honestly don't know what they're putting in these things.  I mean, I watch them make it right in front of my face:  beans, rice, salsa, cheese, maybe some lettuce... and bam! - a burrito.  But I'm thinking that perhaps they should change the name to crackrito, as I really should be in some sort of treatment program for this. 
So how does one become weened off the crackrito?  Shall they eat less and less of each burrito ingredient as the days progress until they're left with nothing but a teeny black bean and piece of tortilla shell?  Or should they just quit cold-carne?  

If you have any advice, let me know.  In the meantime, I believe I hear some queso callin' my name from the kitch. 

Friday, July 25, 2008


Excuse me, did I just write "Fisherman Man?"

Clearly, I work for the Department of Redundancy Department.

Anyway, here is your daily dose of creepy:

Note: Aislyn's husband does not look like this... yet.


Being married to a fisherman and boat captain has perks as well as drawbacks.
I have to compete with something that has been around since the dawn of time, takes up 71% of the earth’s surface and provides endless pleasure for men (and women) who seek it’s treasures.

What’s so great about this Mother Ocean character?

Sure. She’s beautiful, vast, mysterious, holds answers to questions unanswered, guards the souls of thousands who have perished in her, brings joy to families across the globe, provides food and has sparked the curiosity of great scientists worldwide. Her unforgiving nature has earned the respect of all those who dare to voyage on her.

OK…I see where this is going.

My husband, like many others who have formed what I like to call and obsession with the ocean, can’t see my dilemma.I guess the problem lies in the fact that when my husband is home, all of those skills that he has fine-tuned over the years get left at the dock.

He has the motor dexterity to rig lures all day, but when it comes to changing a diaper he is like an elephant trying to tie his shoes. He guts and filets fish, coming home covered in blood and smelling like baked chum, but the smell of a poopy diaper has him running for the door dry heaving. He can navigate the ocean and almost have a sixth sense about where the fish will bite but he can’t find the post office.

I guess it is something I will never fully understand and obviously can’t compete with.

So, here’s to you oh great and glorious ocean. You may have won the battle, but the war has just begun.

"Brandy, you're a fine girl
What a good wife you would be
But my life, my lover, my lady
Is the sea"

Music Lyrics Copyright 1971 & 1972 by Evie Music, Inc.


I knew they changed this, but just didn't know why. Actually, I still don't know why...


Smokey Bear's message "Only You Can Prevent Forest Fires" was created in 1944 by the Ad Council. In a recent study, 95% of those surveyed could finish the sentence when given the first words. In April 2001, Smokey's message was updated to "Only You Can Prevent Wildfires."

Great idea, Ad Council.

"Hey, I got it! Why don't we wait until almost one hundred percent of the American population knows the Smokey Bear slogan, then completely erradicate our 6-decade advertising legacy by changing one word!"


Smokey Bear

P.S. Is it just me or are they turning Smokey into a sex symbol? He looks like he's wearing my 15 year old sister's jeans!

Have you heard of the slogan change? Do you know why Smokey Bear changed his slogan? Any theories?


Read the book, everybody.
He's a heck of a guy, but he means business.


Today's rant will be about a time here in the Florida Keys that brings much joy to some, but mostly brings two days of chaos to the rest of us.

Mini Lobster Season!

There should be a sign that reads:
"All morons with a boat: Please come to the Florida Keys July 30 and 31 to rape and ravage our precious waters for lobster."

I think people assume that in this two days, all of the lobster in our little corner of the world will be harvested and none will be left for regular lobster season. Every asshole with a boat and a trailer will invade my space in hopes of catching a Crustacean.

The ocean will look like Los Angeles on a Friday during rush hour. People will fight over that perfect spot where these little guys hide. Then they will get shitfaced drunk to celebrate their catch and forget that it is in the car and it will go bad in the cooler. Our fine boys in blue will have their time wasted over and over because some guy got drunk and decided to beat up his wife because she forgot to re-ice the cooler.

It is a sight to see.
So. All you assholes who want to ruin my day! Come to the Fabulous Florida Keys next week. It'll be a rockin' good time!

Seriously...if you find yourself heading here. Look at the laws pertaining to this two day massacre.

Rules For Lobster Mini Season

Thursday, July 24, 2008


Someone finally has the right idea....

Apparently a family court judge in New Zealand has had enough of parents given their children ridiculous names.
Judge Rob Murfitt recently allowed a nine year old girl whose name was "Talula Does The Hula From Hawaii" to be renamed.
"The court is profoundly concerned about the very poor judgment which this child's parents have shown in choosing this name," he wrote. "It makes a fool of the child and sets her up with a social disability and handicap, unnecessarily."
In his ruling, Murfitt cited a list of the unfortunate names.
Registration officials blocked some names, including Fish and Chips, Yeah Detroit, Keenan Got Lucy and Sex Fruit, he said. But others were allowed, including Number 16 Bus Shelter "and tragically, Violence," he said.

Seems to me that maybe a judge here in the U.S. should get on his pony and follow suit. Suri, Honor and Apple. Sounds like a new cocktail at Chili's.

What do you think? Should parents be able to name their children despite the emotional trauma it could cause in the future?

Judge Murfitt's quotes were taken from an article in the Associated Press


Today I feel like the Bee Girl.

Come to think of it, most days I feel like the Bee Girl. Except, of course, when I'm around my co-blogger Aislyn or pretty much anyone from work, for that matter.

If you're too young to remember, or too old to care.... in 1993, a bunch of neo-hippie rockers who referred to themselves as "Blind Melon," had their first (and only) big hit, "No Rain." And with it, came a music-video-cum-cult-classic.

The video begins with a pudgy, pre-teen girl dressed as a disheveled bee involved in some sort of makeshift tap routine. When the audience begins to erupt in laughter at her performance, she breaks down in tears and runs off the stage.

She then begins to run through town performing her little jig for anyone with a pulse. Eventually she realizes that no one really gives a hoot. However, right when she's about to give up hope, she peers through a large gate to find a few handfuls of "Bee People" just like her... dancing and frolicking in the middle of an open field. Bee Girl comences joining in the fun and is visibly overjoyed to have found her welcoming niche in an otherwise unfriendly and detatched society.

When I say I feel like the Bee Girl, I certainly don't mean I'm running around in a goofy bee outfit busting moves like a chump. But the whole not fitting in aspect? Yeah. I can relate to that.

In fact, I think everyone has a "Bee Complex" to some extent. Whether you're hanging around the family of your new significant other, dining with a group of individuals with whom you have virtually nothing in common, cracking jokes that no one laughs at, or just travelling on an airplane with a bunch of strangers... there's obviously something within all of us that makes us feel a little on the outside - especially when it seems like there's no common ground anywhere in sight.

So... if you'd ask me if I'd rather be the Bee Girl or the audience that laughs at the Bee Girl, what would I say?

Well, the Bee Girl, naturally.

Why be the audience... when you can just bee yourself?

Blind Melon name and image are copyrighted property of EMI/Capitol Records.