Another good tattoo: Camel Toe.
Someone asked me after the Blago Tatto post if I had any tattoos. Yes, I do – three, actually. Let’s go through them one by one:
- Sorority letters on my ankle – chalk that one up to “Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time.”
- Small flower on my calf – got it in Miami when my husband was getting Chilly Willy on his calf. Yes, Chilly Willy. My favorite because I designed it myself.
- Tiny green star on my other ankle. Got it in Chicago when my husband was adding ice cube tears to Chilly Willy. Got infected = my last tattoo.
I’m kind of ambivalent about the tattoos now that I am older. They are so small that you don’t really notice them, but were they really needed? I guess the best part about them are the memories of having them done.
Chilly Willy is awesome, BTW. One of my good friends designed it for him and it gets lots of attention wherever we go. Why Chilly Willy? Well, as he always says, “Why not?”
Why not, indeed.
This is a real tattoo from someone who really, really loves Chicago. But, really, Blago on your tattoo?
See the full story here.
So I was at Chili’s the other day. I know, I know… but we had to bowl for our fun league and that’s the only restaurant that’s near by – and if I have to eat there or at the bowling alley… well, I think Chili’s eeks out a win by a smidgen or so. (Although the bowling alley does have fried pickles, which sounds strangely good, but I have yet to have them.)
The first thing I notice is that it is almost impossible to get anything even remotely good for you on this menu. Oh, sure, they have their “Guiltless” section – but that only claims that the meal is 750 calories or less. 750 calories is “guiltless?” WTF is the rest of it, then? The thought scares me.
Second, a certain salad catches my eye: The Quesadilla Explosion. Now, again – I’m no marketing genius, but putting the words “quesadilla” and “explosion” in the same sentence seems like a bad idea. Also, since it’s obviously not “guiltless” – I pass.
So, I ended up getting the basic Old Timer burger but had them sub the burger for a black bean burger. Then, I get home and look it up and even that has 650 calories! WTF?
No wonder we are a nation of fat-asses.
Thanks to one of my faithful readers for giving me a heads up on this new delicacy from KFC. May I introduce you to the KFC Double Down: Bacon, cheese, special sauce with two pieces of fried chicken as the “bun.” There is literally not one ingredient in this so-called sandwich that isn’t heart-stopping in it’s pure fatiness. It’s basically squares of fat, with strips of fat, with a sauce of fat between two proteins dipped in fat and fried…. in fat.
I have to applaud KFC for having the balls to introduce this monstrosity in this day and age of White House vegetable gardens and british chefs telling us we eat crap. It’s like KFC just gave a big fried chicken finger to all the tofu-lovin’ organic-buyin’ tree-huggin’ namby-pamby big brother liberal crybabies out there. America, fuck yeah!
Not sure it’s good marketing move to kill your demographic, though.
The Double Down will be available April 12. Cardiologists everywhere prepare to double down on business.
Okay, this cracks me up. Nothing like having a poorly drawn sandwich tattoo on the top of your hand for the rest of your life! You gotta give this person an E for having a sense of humor.
I have a couple of tattoos myself. They are small, and all around the ankle area – and most of them seemed like a good idea at the time. Now? Well, try explaining that that thing on your ankle is not the number 12 but rather your sorority letters. The looks I get from explaining that one are priceless. For some reason, people have a hard time believing I was a sorority girl. Well, I was! Anyway, there really was no need to brand that information on my ankle for the rest of my life, but what did I know? I did a lot of dumb things back then…
Stay strong XΩ Sisters!
Image courtesy of lamebook.com
This ad for Lee Jeans circa 1975 is sweet. The chunky turtleneck. The oversized collar over the jacket. The jeans up to your waist à la Fred Mertz. This is almost as bad as the Levis & Spanking White Tennis Shoe Craze of the 80s. God, I miss the 70s – it’s like everyone collectively went crazy or something.
First off, my sincere apologies to have kept you all waiting for the final thrilling chapter of the never-ending saga of the The Three Little Crack Kittens! I was traveling out of the country last week and internet was spotty at best. The only things that worked consistently was my Facebook and Twitter apps on the iPhone – go figure.
Here is the final chapter in all it’s glory:
“What! washed your mittens,
You darling kittens!”
“But I smell a mouse close by!
Hush! hush! hush!”
Yes, that is the actual punctuation and capitalization of the final verse of this so-called book. Nice editing, Renewal Educational Games and Aids Division! Obviously they don’t understand at Renewal that an exclamation point does, indeed, end the sentence.
Maybe it’s me, but this whole story really makes no sense. There is no real ending, of course – the excitement of the pie is over, I get the part about washing your mittens without being asked, but what the hell is this ending? A basic plot is: Intro, Conflict, Resolution, Lesson, End. This stupid story had none of these.
I guess it’s just another reason it is a good thing I don’t have any children.
Thank you to Helena Handbasket for the wonderful gift!
Oops – the dumb ass kittens didn’t take off the crazy mittens when they ate their danish, so now they have to wash them in a tub full of melted ice cream. Oh, wait…that’s soap. Of course the girls are doing the washing while Cross Eyed Tabby Boy gets the water. They must be using SURF detergent with all that foam.
The ladder is an interesting touch. What’s it for?
New crackhead kitty for this page:
The plot thickens… The kittens get their, um, danish.
Welcome to Chapter Two of the suspenseful thriller: The Three Little Kittens.
This is the plot twist in this story where the three little zombie cats miraculously find their mittens a mere one second after losing them and told they will get no pie. So, I don’t get it. This twist is so boring, that they geniuses at Rose Art Studios had absolutely nothing to work with as far as this picture goes. The kittens are just standing in a shag carpet field with paws in the air like they just don’t care. And why do their mittens have thumbs when the kittens don’t?
Oh, and our favorite gingham kitten is missing an iris.