I’m trying something new…NO! Not bestiality! Ya bunch of perverts! ;)

Over the last few years I’ve had some requests to turn my blog into a podcast of sorts.

As I’m lazy as fuck (in reality I just work too damn hard during the day!), I’ve been putting it off. But with my last post I got a few emails telling me they want to hear it instead of read it. So, I’m giving in.

But I must warn you…I’m doing it in one take. So if I fuck up horribly, sneeze or decide to eat dinner while recording…well, you are just going to have to hear it all. ;)

Here’s my first try. It’s a recording of my last post, “I’ve HAD it,” which is a rant about dumbfuckery.

It’s not word-for-word, but it’s close.

Don’t be too hard on me and all my mess-ups.

:)

 

Here’s the link if ya wanna see the last pic in the post. :)

 

Double-dropped Kitchen Floor Ice Cream

I still believe that icecream should be one word. WHY ISN’T IT ONE WORD??? It doesn’t make any sense. Iceberg is one word. So is Iceland. What about iceman? Even iceweasel is one word–though I have no flippin’ idea what it means.

Anyway, I digress!

You guys know I love chocolate.

If I could eat it all day, every day without dying of malnutrition, I’d do so. To hell with being able to fit into a car. Chocolate rules!

So, in an effort to eat food that is as healthy and non-processed as possible (meaning if it contains plastic, shit I cannot pronounce, or metal shavings, I’m trying to shy away from it), I thought that what I’d do is when I’m dying for some chocolate I’d just eat one spoonful of my favorite chocolate iceCREAM (dammit!) on earth: Ben & Jerry’s New York Super Fudge Chunk. Just the name of it makes me a bit randy! And it contains ingredients that don’t tongue tie me.

Believe it or not I’m perfectly capable (though it takes ALL my strength) of eating only one bite per day. It sates my chocolate craving and is only about 25 calories for a small bite.

About a week ago I realized that my month-old pint of B&J is down to the last bite. Yes! It lasted a whole month. I am quite proud of myself.

I was so excited about getting that last delicious morsel of orgasmic chocolate heaven into my gaping maw that I attacked the pint with a ferocity typically known only to mother lions protecting their cubs.

Alas, that damn stuff was so frozen that it was not very accepting of my spoon. It bent the damn thing in half. (I know I’m not the only person with like 10 oddly bent spoons in their silverware drawer from where hard iceCREAM bent it and you had to try and mush it back into shape with only moderate success.)

Dang bendy spoons!

Dang bendy spoons!

So, back to the inaccessible B&J: GAME ON BITCH! I was gonna get that chocolate onto my spoon come hell or high water. PMS waits for NO frozen iceCREAM.

Finally, after digging at it and prying it away from the edge of the pint, I get some success. The spoon is in and the iceCREAM is slightly mobile, if not still a wee bit stuck.

With one final YANK I free the chocolate bliss from its wretched home and watch it go sailing through the air to land with an unceremonious splat on my kitchen floor.

Fuck!

Now, I don’t know about you, but my kitchen floor isn’t…well…clean.

As I refuse to clean anything in the kitchen and it all falls to the hubby, I can’t complain if the kitchen floor is gross. If I’m not willing to clean it, I also can’t bitch if it’s not clean.

I look lovingly upon my iceCREAM splat and say, “5 second rule!” I’m eating it and I don’t care.

I pick it up off the floor, analyze the 8 cat hairs and various other ickies now attached to it and decide that it’s worth the risk.

I remove all of the extra floor sprinkles now added to my piece of chocolate heaven and go to put it into my mouth.

Alas, my fingers are warm and with all the picking off of the ickies the iceCREAM has slightly melted and whoops! Through my fingers it falls again onto the floor.

DOUBLE FUCK-A-DOODLE-DO!

But, eh, to hell with it. I cleaned it once, I can clean it again.

Now I’m back to removing cat hair and other Typhoid-carrying elements from my manna from Heaven. Finally, it looks clean enough to eat (well, sorta) and I pop that bite ‘o yumminess into my waiting mouth.

Mmmmmm…chocolate…mmmmmm…in love with Ben & Jerry. Wanna marry them…mmmmm… WHAT THE FUCK? Yep, there was a “what the fuck” moment while luxuriating in the chocolate bliss that is New York Super Fudge Chunk. I guess my iceCREAM picked up a hitchhiking pepper seed that had fallen to the floor a few days ago when the hubby was cooking Thai food.

Not sure how much you know about Thai peppers, but to say they are hot is like saying that Megan Fox or Chris Hemsworth (Thor) are just kinda okay looking–a tremendous understatement.

FIRE dammit! My mouth is on FIRE!

Yes, the iceCREAM did help it a bit as the cold helped numb my poor tongue. But whatever kind of pepper seed attached itself to my hunk ‘o hunk of burning dessert was bound and determined to survive.

My damn mouth burned for over a full day. Son of a bitch! Dumb floor. Dumb extra-frozen iceCREAM. Dumb pepper seed.

What…no “Dumb Jodi” in that list? Yeah, I should have been at the top of it! Single-dropped iceCREAM is bad enough. Double-dropped? I should have taken the second drop as a sign from God to just slowly back away from the chocolate. But since I don’t listen to anyone, including my own common sense, I had burny-tongue as my lesson of the day.

Well, actually, I didn’t learn any lesson. I’d still eat double-dropped iceCREAM if it was the last bite in the pint. I’m horrifyingly gross and I’m okay with it! :)

XOXOXO

Absofuckinlutely Hysterical!!

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We all know I love Bernadette from Rants from my Crazy Kitchen. Not only did she contribute 2 recipes to my cookbook, but she pretty much just kicks tons of ass. (Go follow her. Go now. Well…after you read what’s below. Then go follow her.) ;)

So, she sent me to a “blog translation” page that takes a webpage and translates it into hilarity. If you thought I had bad language, you ain’t seen NOTHIN’ yet! She picked her favorite post of mine, “I Gots me the Buzz Muff.” and had it translated. Total riot!

It’s so damn funny that I about puked laughing. It’s called gizoogle and in its own words it describes itself as: “Fo’ all y’all biotches who wanna find shiznit!” Nope, I kid you not.

Now, this is HORRIBLY POLITICALLY INCORRECT. It’s offensive and wonderful and appalling and that’s why I like it.

If you offend easily, do NOT click on the below link. I don’t want no guff from easy-to-offend people. 

Of course, easily offended people don’t usually come to my blog as it’s just awful and perverse and wrong most of the time! (But you know my heart is always in the right place.) :)

God bless Snoop Dog for creating the “izzle” factor. Gotta love Snoop. :)

Enjoy!

CLICK HERE AT YOUR OWN RISK

PS: My McAfee says the page is safe to visit, so you should be good to go and not get spammed by non-stop, two-girls-and-a-cup-type porn. ;)

PSS: I’ve never seen that and never want to. I don’t want to know what it’s about–though I have some ideas. Please don’t tell me or I’ll have to wash my brain with lye. ;)

The Horrors of my Noggin and the Related Panic Attack

I’m telling you, life is NEVER dull. ;) Not that I wish to be bored, but c’mon, a little peace now and again is a good thing.

So, 3 weeks ago I got my hair dyed.

It’s pretty much been every color in the rainbow over the last 30 years.

My very first “boyfriend” told me one day that, “You’d be perfect if only you were blonde.” Of course what did I do? I immediately went and dyed it blonde and just as immediately realized that blonde is NOT a good look on me. Eeeee gawds, it was a nightmare. Especially with my personality.

If some guy said that to me today I’d verbally cut him until he crawled home crying for his mommy, dragging his entrails behind him. But I was 14 then and always concerned with being as perfect as possible. Thank God I don’t worry about that shit anymore. Take me as I am or fuck off. I rather like that mantra! ;)

I went to get the blonde nightmare fixed a few days later and ended up with 3 different colors of hair. I don’t know why the fix-it hair dyeing adventure turned into such a fiasco, but the good news was that my mom understood that I couldn’t go into public and she let me skip school for a week until I could wash a bunch of it out of my hair. Best Mom Ever Award for that! :)

Over the years it’s been light brown with highlights, black, dark brown, that purpley-red color, accidentally green (yep, that sucked as much as you’d think), red, and so on. I get bored easily with my hair color. Now, the style’s been the same for 20 years and will probably be the same until I die. But the color? That I like to mess with.

So, when I got my hair dyed a few weeks ago I went with a blue black. I wanted that shit dark dark dark. My chick used the same brand of dye she always does and everything seemed okay.

Then a few days later I noticed this weird thing on my forehead right by my hairline. It looked like a skin-colored scrape about 1/3 of an inch in diameter. As I was looking at it thinking, “Please God–no skin cancer. I know I tanned my ridiculously white skin a lot when growing up, but I haven’t had a tan in 20 years. Please spare me skin cancer…” I noticed all these black dots on my scalp. What the fuck? Hmmm…they didn’t look like the typical dye blotches that appear on my scalp after a hair color. These were tiny little specks like someone took a Sharpie and put dots on my noggin.

Well, whatever. I’ll just scrub my head harder next time I wash it to get the dye off.

Uhhh…the dots didn’t come off after the next shampoo. Or the next 5 shampoos.

Finally, after 3 weeks I’m like, “What in the ever-loving shit is on my fuckin’ head?” As we know, I’ve been dyeing my hair for 30 years. I’d never seen anything like it. So I had to investigate.

Can I just tell you…NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER Google something like “black spots on scalp.” NEVER! It’s horrifying.

I went from “Hmmm…that looks odd” to “HOLY FUCKING HELL WHAT THE FUCK OH MY GOD I’M DYING THIS IS AWFUL HOW DID THIS HAPPEN WHY ME SOMEONE KILL ME THIS FUCKING SUCKS.” Yep…all one sentence.

When you Google “black spots on scalp” you learn that you’d be better off dead than with the host of things that come up as possible diseases or conditions.

Keep in mind that I typically stick to sites like WebMD or Mayo Clinic for medical advice as I feel they are likely a bit more accurate than, ‘Jodi’s dumb ass blog on weird stuff,” but even those scared the shit out of me.

Some of the suggestions were: Mold (WHAT THE FUCK???). Fungus (I WANT TO DIE). Ringworm (This is when the panic set in).

All of the sites also mentioned itching. My head didn’t itch before I read that. Now it was as if spiders were crawling around on my head. I know, totally psychosomatic, and I kept trying to rationalize it, but I was scared shitless, so a bit of irrational was starting to slip through.

Then Grant gets home and I tell him what’s going on. He grabs a flashlight and tells me I have black dots ALL OVER MY HEAD!!! I thought it was just that one small spot, but nope. They are EVERYFUCKINGWHERE! Oh, the horror!

So, I immediately got on the phone to schedule an appointment with a dermatologist. If I fucking have any of those things I wanted it diagnosed immediately and then I wanted someone to decapitate me.

Of course, out of the 6 I called, 3 didn’t answer the phone (I’m thinking their businesses are covers for drug running, otherwise how do they stay in business?), 2 sent me to voicemail (how can they close on a Tuesday before 4 pm? Must be nice…) and the last one kept me on hold for, and I kid you not, 15 minutes. 4 times people picked up the line and I’d repeat, “Hi, I’m calling to make an appointment as a new patient,” and they’d always say, “Just a minute,” and I’d wait 5 more. I wanted to smash something violently. First off, what shitty customer service. Secondly, I’VE GOT MOTHERFUCKING FUNGUS, MOLD OR WORMS ON MY MOTHERFUCKING HEAD. SOMEONE NEEDS TO HELP ME BEFORE I PASS OUT FROM HORROR!!!

And of course in the meanwhile I’m terrified to touch my head, lean it onto a pillow, let my husband anywhere near me. I made him throw away his brush cause I’d used it earlier in the day. He tried to hug me and I yelped, “NO! You’ll get the Mange!”

Finally, the idiots at the dermatologist’s office get back on the phone and they can’t see me for a week.

Ummmm…no. That’s too long. I’ll run into traffic by then. I’ll shave my head. I’ll die of terror and fear!

So, I make the appointment anyway and then rush out of the house to go to Urgent Care. By now it’s after 5pm and no doctor in the state is open except Urgent Care. And I was sincerely starting to have a panic attack at the idea of a foreign body making its home in my head. God bless Valium.

When I get to the first one, I open the door to what I can only assume was an outbreak of The Plague. So I said, “Uh, fuck this,” and left and went to another one where everyone looked like they were suffering from Ebola. Damn flu season. So, fuck that one too. I just went home and wouldn’t let anyone or anything near me until I could get in to see someone in the morning.

Finally, morning comes ’round (after a lovely night chocked full of wormy, fungus-filled dreams) and I get an appointment to see a doc.

I go there at 10:30 and they are so nice and lovely. The doc comes in and I explain what’s going on.

She looks at my head and says, “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

Great. I’m a medical mystery full of fungus and mold and worms and God knows what.

Then she plays a bit with my noggin and determines that the dye (which is some stubborn-ass dye) had grabbed hold of all the new baby hairs growing out of my scalp and gotten kind of stuck at the follicle (if you’ll recall I mentioned earlier in the year that I had a bunch of hair loss due to thyroid and iron/protein deficiencies). The hair was just a tiny bit of a millimeter long and hardly even out of my scalp yet, so the dye clung to those tiny pieces of hair and went down a bit into the skin. This was why it wasn’t easily washing off in the shower.

Can I tell you that I have rarely been more relieved in my entire life? EVER! I wanted to hump her in thanks for her awesome diagnosis.

She said she could see why I’d have been terrified, but that I’m good to go and that she wished all her appointments ended on such a happy note.

Whew!!!!

What an absolute cluster-fuck. I had told Grant that I just could not take one more medical issue and was going to snap from the stress. Luckily, I have a wonderful hubby who was supportive even when we did think I had The Funk. Thank God it was just some weird dyeing anomaly and I am worm-mold-fungus free! Yay!!!!

So, that’s my saga. I’m just happy that my noggin is good to go. I’m quite certain I couldn’t have handled any other outcome because they were just too damn gross!

Have a happy weekend, my friends! XOXOXXOXO

FREE Kindle books for you! Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, even if you are a Humbug! ;)

If you don’t already have all 3 of my books, you can download them for FREE on Kindlechristmas_animated_gifs_05 this Tuesday through Saturday.

Since I’ve tortured all of you with my Christmas decorating pics (here’s one in case you missed it–note the new Christmas Teddy Hammock on the right side!), I thought I’d give you Christmas presents too, starting tomorrow.

Christmas 2014 Plus Teddy Hammock

Remember, if you don’t have a Kindle, no big deal as you can download the Kindle reader to almost any device. Click HERE to download the Kindle reader. And then click HERE to download my books.

If you do have a Kindle, click HERE and download away!

Love you guys! Your friendship and support mean the world to me, so I hope you enjoy my Holiday presents! XOXOXOXO

MerryAWChristmas

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