Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Yeah, that was me looking in your window. So were these people- none of us are impressed, Mister.

So I was walking Bubs the other day, just down the street so that he could do his Praying Mantis impression whilst simultaneously releasing of the turds in that charming way he does.  About 2 blocks from my house, he stopped to sniff what could only have been magical once-in-a-lifetime unicorn pee, judging from the amount of time he had his little snout smooshed into the grass.  While waiting for the sniff-fest to end, something in the house to my right caught my eye.
At first it looked like something was shaking, or fluttering in a breeze, but since it was inside the house that seemed unlikely unless we're experiencing a rash of indoor tornadoes, much like the summer of Aught-seven. 
Unfortunately for me and my eyesight, within a second or two I realized exactly what was happening.  Directly behind a computer monitor propped less than a foot from the window was one of my gentleman neighbors...


Yup- right in front of his picture window, with nothing but a smallish and totally non-camouflaging piece of computer bric-a-brak to shield me from seeing his face.   Luckily, he at least had the propriety to keep his junky junk under the desk while furiously going about his business, but seriously- WHO MASTURBATES IN FRONT OF A WINDOW IN THEIR DINING ROOM????????? ON THE GROUND FLOOR????

So, I have to wonder- am I dealing with your run-of-the mill dirtbag here, or is it more likely that this dude already has, or will likely have, his very own sex offender registry soon? And, since I'm being all straightforward and stuff, I will fully admit that I have walked by a few times since, just to see if this is a common thing.  I feel like I have to- this house is across the street from an elementary school (though the window in question faces another direction), and if this is a common occurrence I feel like I should alert some sort of authority figure, like the Pope or maybe Batman.  And if a call is warranted, I feel like I should be really, really sure, as I'm pretty sure being labeled a "sex offender" isn't quite the same as getting caught running a red light or stealing extra mustard packets at Arby's. 

I guess for now I walk by, hoping/dreading to see my neighbor's hand bobbing up and down as if he were enthusiastically working out with a Shake Weight, minus the Shake Weight. 

I'll keep you posted.

Thursday, April 14, 2011

Cat's In The Cradle (For 19 More Days)

Hi, this is John, Whiskeymarie's friend, agent. lawyer, and manager. I've hijacked her blog once before to offer a ransom for her safe return, as she had gone missing for quite some time. Thankfully, she returned herself from that little hiatus, though not altogether unharmed. It seems that she likes to perform her own stunts from time to time, and, well, when she insists on rolling out of a car doing 60 like she's Mannix or something, it doesn't always end well.

Anyway, I'm here today to offer you, her friends, a special pre-sale on her DEBUT ALBUM! - CAT'S OUTTA THE BAG.

You'll get these hits:
  1. Diggin’ For Gold
  2. I Fell From Heaven
  3. Head at My Place, Tail at Yours
  4. Eighty Million Bucks and He’s Almost Dead
  5. Melt Your Ice Cream
  6. Let's Go Upstairs and Talk
  7. Ashton, Oh Ashton
  8. Making You Bitches Look Really Bad
  9. Are You Really That Tall, or Just Sitting on Your Wallet
  10. I'm Heartbreaker, Nice to Meetcha, Stupid
  11. Fifty Bucks Says I Turn You Down
  12. Record Tonight, Viral Tomorrow

Order today and save! Only $99.99! Enter the special coupon code: MONEY. Or DIAMONDS. Or DIESUCKERDIE. Any of those will work. Not valid with any other offer.

Hurry, offer ends May 4th, 2011.

Marie Cougar Mellencamp® is a ROCK STAR.

Love, John ... and...

Monday, April 11, 2011

Don't pee in the infinity pool, please.

What I've been up to in the few spare moments when I'm not trolling Facebook or obsessively inspecting my face for evidence of fault lines- in bullet form instead of Mandarin Chinese because that would just be confusing as I don't speak Mandarin and would have to just make it up as I go:
  •  I've been busy cultivating a "Moonlighting" style love-hate relationship with my new treadmill.  On one hand, it will hopefully help me in my never-ending quest to continue to wear real clothes (as opposed to buying painting tarps, cutting a hole for my head, and pulling the whole ensemble together with a garden hose belt), yet on the other hand I find myself deteriorating into Jerry springer-esque dialog with the beast every time I use it.  The other day I demanded it get a paternity test to determine if it, and not the toilet seat at the gas station, was the rightful parent of my pizza-induced food baby.  It agreed to the test, but then it informed me that it has another family in Idaho and that it has been working as a male prostitute on the side.  Oh well, if it can keep my ass from looking like a pair of pantyhose stuffed with baked beans, I guess I can live with it. 
  • I went to Mexico a few weeks ago.  I had never been, and I was dying to bust out my Spanglish-with-a-nasal-Midwest-accent on the locals.  It was perfectly warm & sunny, we drank copious amounts of margaritas and drinks served in pineapples, I managed to get yet another goofy-looking sunburn which will prohibit me from wearing anything but "summer-weight" turtlenecks for the next few months, and we managed (considering we normally think of ourselves as smart people, the type of people that are typically skeptical of anything even remotely smelling of "hoodwinkery" or "sheisterism") to get sucked into wasting 3+ hours of one day there listening to an overweight Southern gentleman named George tell us about why we are "exactly" the sort of people who should buy an overpriced timeshare in a gross, Americanized, "exclusive" community in Mexico.  Ugh.  I took some pictures this trip, but as my main goal over the 4 days was to be warm, read books, and eat/drink my way into a happy coma each day, I didn't take many:
Leaving Mn, completely undrugged for flying, unless you count two glasses of wine, which I don't.

The view from our hotel room.  

If I ever happen to come to Mazatlan with Christa, I bet we would totally hang out here more than we probably should. 

For John- my dirty, dirty feet on the beach, now with 100% more dog!

Wet, salt water hair, spf2000, a hat and sunglasses, yet I still managed to get burnt. 

We had the pool to ourselves the whole time.  I got my lovely manservant Renaldo to bring us a continual supply of giant margaritas from the bar, which was nice.  Since the pool overlooked the ocean, and since I am not a fan of sand in my buttcrack, we spent a large amount of time here. 

Happy Monday, my sunburned little nuggets of lime-flavored hairballs.  Happy Monday.