Hey, it’s Friday!
(Or at least I think it is because I’m never quite sure what the day, date or year is lately and that’s probably because I don’t have a job and hardly ever write checks anymore, but I guess I should get better about knowing what day it is in case I ever get knocked unconscious in a pedestrian/horse accident or something like that and the EMTs ask me what year it is and I give them the wrong answer, like “1939, dummy!” and the next thing I know, boom, I’m in the special Suburban Wanker ward of the loony bin eating pudding with my fingers while my husband gets remarried to the cute checker at the grocery store who always honors his expired coupons and then, lo and behold, the first thing Suzy Scanner does when she moves into my old house is hang up a giant calendar just to screw with me because Suzy is a real piece of work and totally wants me to die alone in my own filth so she can inherit my awesome turquoise jewelry collection and transfer to a Safeway in Santa Fe, New Mexico, that bitch.)
Hey, it’s Friday!
I’m going to be rude and send you all away in just a moment so you can read a funny thing I co-wrote with my friend Nancy Davis Kho, but first, a Make Your Own Sex Toys update.
Not surprisingly, I received many, many requests to show more pages of that book on my blog because all of my readers are cheap, crafty perverts. However, putting more pages on here might be a copyright violation, so I’m just going to tell you one of its best DIY projects: Make your own vibrator by putting your cellphone on vibrate and then sticking it inside a condom and then taking a trip downtown. Voila! VERIZON IN THE VAG—okay, I think I need to stop right there. This is a family show and I don’t want to lose any of my advertisers.
But the truly fantastic news is that I completely forgot my close friend C. is quite an expert at crocheting. In fact, she sat on her couch all last winter and happily crocheted just what you’d expect every sweet, normal mother of two to crochet—pink uteri that she then sent to lawmakers with a note saying, “YO, STAY OUT OF MINE.”
I know, I’m not sure if I should hug her or call in a 5150. But I’m positive that those yarn female parts are really, really popular on Capital Hill; the Senators are all probably snuggling with them at night. And now C. has kindly offered to crochet me the famous Gimp Mask and give it to me as my Christmas present! Yeah, that’s right—December just got a whole lot warmer and kinkier, baby. Ho, ho, HO. Is that an elf in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?
Now back to the humor piece on Nancy’s blog. Before reading it, you have to know that there’s this thing that happens on Twitter called a “Twitter party” where some company or group organizes a discussion of their product or issue and a bunch of people then talk about it using the same #hashtag. Fine, whatever, I don’t care. However, for some annoying reason they always talk in all caps, so it’s a bit startling to say the least.
Like, say, you’re reading your Twitter timeline on a Tuesday night and you see people chatting about TV shows or music or what they had for dinner, etc. Kind of like being at a cocktail party. But then all of a sudden some drunk guy barges in the door and yells:
Yikes! I mean, I totally get why people do this type of thing, but it’s always rather jarring on my nerves. So when Nancy and I saw a very loud Twitter party going on the other night for a My Little Pony Wedding (yeah, you read that right), we were inspired to write a little something about it. And you can find that masterpiece right here.
That is, assuming it’s Friday today.
—————–
That parenthetical sentence is the longest coherent sentence I’ve ever read.
Our state house of reps is ginormous for such a tiny state and it’s jam-packed with people who need one of those pink uteri. Could you ask C if she could whip @ 500 for me? I’ll pay her handsomely.
Mmmhh, my mother in law is quite a gifted knitter, I wonder what kind of face she would pull if I asked her to knit me a pink uterus… Think I’ll ask her just for kicks.
the twitter party! that killed me.
I feel the same way.
Caps should be broken out for EMERGENCY USE ONLY.
Like, you know: OMG I RAN OUT OF COFFEE.
But, who knows: I’ll be open minded. Maybe someone’s definition of emergency is a Little Pony Party.
On my way to read you and Nancy, I know it’ll be good.
xo
A MY LITTLE PONY WEDDING? Holy moley, that deserves all caps.
The question is, CAN SHE CROCHET A SADDLE? #MLPWedding.
Oh sorry. I didn’t realize we were done.
You slay me. That opening paragraph is phenomenal. Having writer’s envy over here. Swoon!
Wouldn’t that damage the phone? I’m equally repulsed and intrigued… LOVE the crocheted uteri! (That deserves caps.)
Another entire crack-up from word GO to FINISH. And entirely deserving of ALL CAPS, too, just so people flinch when they read you. Man, thanks so much AGAIN.
“C” here… and lovin’ all the love. I really was quite proud of myself for that clever little gift to all of my government officials. Interestingly enough, the only response I received in return was from my democratic congressman who wanted me to know that he was aware of, and fighting to retain, all of my rights as a woman :)’ From the republicans… crickets and tumble weeds. But I would like to think they all got a chuckle. Who could resist laughing upon opening a box with a lovingly knitted uterus inside? Not even Satan himself, I woul think!
Marriage is between a man and a woman, not two ponies!
Can I replace my own uterus with that? I think I’ll get fewer babies with it. Maybe a couple of gerbils.