Padding The Twitter Truth

Twitter, twitter, twitter!

Yes, we all twitter these days.

I've even been known to throw a tweet here and there.

Some people say that twitter has replaced blogging. I guess all those complaints about excessively long blog posts were heard... by the inventors of Twitter.

Sooooo... how long did it take them to figure out our attention span maximum is only 140 characters long?

Genius!

So, I was on Facebook (another anti-blogging website) and you know how those pesky side bar ads appear? They always want you to "like" them or follow them on Facebook or Twitter.

Well...the one I was seeing made me laugh.

Follow Kotex on Twitter?

I mean what kind of updates would that produce?

Ha!

So Kotex? I'm grateful for your "support" in years past, but we've gone our separate ways and well...

I won't be following you on Twitter.

No need to "pad" the truth.

Sorry.





B.S. No chicks were harmed during the production of this post.

Curiosity

Almost killed my kid.

Gah.

I've always known my 8-yr-old son is extremely curious.

In fact, I had to ban him from watching Curious George when he was a wee tot. It was putting too many BAD ideas in his head.

And while I try to allow him some to room to make his "discoveries," it's not always a good thing. And it can prove to be source of MAJOR irritation for me.

You know like the time he plugged up the outside sewer line that goes from our house to the city. Yes, that was a nice little bill to Rotorooter.

There was that time when he decided to see if a bar of soap would and could be flushed down the toilet. This wasn't the first attempt at bar soap flushing. It marked the fifth time my husband had to remove the entire toilet, find the sudsy offender, remove it and then reattach the whole darn terlet. (And amazingly it works! Give it up for the non-handy hubster! Whoo-hoo!)

Anyosity, this latest venture into the curious zone had dastardly consequences.

"I was doing an experiment." He croaked between tears, sobs, and gasps for breath.

"But why, son? Why would you do that?" Incredulous me.

"I was blah, blah, blah. And then I was gonna see blah, blah, blah."

"And it was a lot Mom! I *sob* can't *sob, sob* believe *hysterical sob* I did that!"

"Yeah, son, neither can I. But you won't do it again, right?"

A teary nod.

By now it was all moot.

But after a much needed day of rest from a terribly upset stomach and horrible headache, I think he's finally learned a very important lesson.

DRINKING FROM THE DOG'S WATER DISH can be hazardous to your health.

*woof*












B.S. No dogs were harmed during the production of this post and yes, they drink from their water dish all the time.

Oh How You....

Drool.

In anticipation.

Of me.

Telling you.

My latest t.v. show fetish.

Heh heh.

You know you're dying to know.

WITH bated breath I might add.

Okay, okay, ye shall wait NO longer.

It's...

Wait for it.

Wait for it.

*drum roll*

Spike TV's show Ink Master.

Now, let me preface this admission with the following, personally, I am ANTI-tattoos. However, if YOU want one... go ahead. I'll even admire the artwork. Honest! However, anything to do with WILLING compliance to the power of a painful needle? I just can't support it.

Sorry.

I hate pain.

ME NO LIKEY.

Ahem.

So... my husband got me hooked on this show. It's fascinating! It truly is! Another perk: Dave Navarro is so fun to watch bubbling over with ego.

I'm winning without Tiger Blood.

Tonight is the season finale and I'm looking forward to seeing Shane O'Neill be titled as Ink Master.

Oh come on... the whole season has been prepping us to watch this cocky S.O.B. be granted the grand and coveted tattoo artist title: Ink Master. And a hundred grand.

Yow-to-the-zah.

No matter how cocky he is. He deserves it. I guess I could be surprised by a different outcome, but... I think this guy has the "ink in the bag."

But all the tattoos I have seen? Amazing.

Just amazing work.

Still makes me shudder. And the human canvasses shuddered a lot too during application. Yes, non-soylent green people volunteered to get a free tattoo done by some of the best tattoo artists in the nation competing in this pain-filled competition that often resulted with breathtaking results.  Except for that one tattoo when the artist accidentally inked a pin-up girl tattoo with TWO RIGHT FEET.

Bahahahahaha!

Howdja like to be THAT human canvass.

Ugh.

Anyink, this was one show I surprisingly enjoyed. Immensely.

However...

Needles.

Pain.

Ugh.

Me, DEFINITELY, no likey.

Now, I go watch the season finale in all its artistic gore and glory.

Yeah, and there is a teensy weensy part of me who rejoices in the suffering of the human canvasses.  The pain tremors, the spastic quakes of agony, the spasms of obvious discomfort.

Bahahahahaha!

I guess I'm not as nice as I thought I was.

Bahahahahaha!

But there's no doubt about my evility.

Bahahahaha!

Oh [ink] well.






B.S. No human canvases were harmed (more than absolutely necessary) during the production of this post.