On Eulogies and What Really Matters

Setting the Scene: A beautiful Spring day. 72 degrees with white puffy clouds in a crisp blue sky. 100 people standing together, sharing their love for their beloved friend or dearest family. Up to the casket steps the widower. Grief written in his eyes and a hushed tone in his voice, he begins to talk about the love of his life and what he’ll miss most.

The Eulogy: My beautiful wife… I will miss you more than you could ever know.

All of those many, many hours you spent in the gym every week to make sure that I could worship at your 6-pack abs are hours I’m glad you spent away from me and our family because look at the amazing results. Wow. The ripped muscles I could see pressing up against those tight dresses were so worth all the missed dinners and little league games you didn’t attend.

Every time you ate salad with no dressing, it proved to me how much you loved me. Each time you refused to eat birthday cake or passed up even a bite of french fries deepened my adoration of you.

Of course, I can’t forget those slim hips and delightfully petite tush that reminded me so much of how you looked when I first met you in Elementary school. I know that staying the same size you were when you were but a budding adolescent was challenging to say the least, but you did it so well and it made the world such a better place. You brought joy to everyone when they looked at you. They didn’t even have to know you or your mind to be thankful you were in the world.

What I’ll miss most is knowing that you loved me enough to spare yourself every bit of joy that good food, good drink and a lazy Saturday in bed could give us because you knew I needed you to be model-perfect everyday in order to keep our marriage strong and filled with passion.

In Heaven, may you find the gym of your dreams and may God give you a cup of 5 raw eggs every morning because I know how much you loved to start your day with protein. I’ll miss you, my love.

My thoughts: Of course that is an insane pile of shit! Hopefully, no one would really give a eulogy like that because when it all comes down in the end, what truly matters is what shines through. But I wanted to put it out there because I got stuck watching some commercials this week against my will and so many of them focused on: Being thin. Being built from the waist down like a 10-year-old boy. Having giant tits. A tiny waist. Bigger lips. Smaller hips. Being hairless from the neck down, but we have some great hair extensions to sell you to make the hair on your head twice as thick–all other hair is unacceptable. It was just ridiculous!

I’m soooooo sick of the pressure put on women to be “perfect.” First off, we all have a different idea of what perfect is, so let’s say bye bye to that word altogether. Secondly, who ever said that being a Victoria’s Secret model made anyone happy or secure? Men cheat on their model-hot girlfriends all the time. An expression I hate more than just about anything on earth is: “See that beautiful woman over there? Some guy is tired of fucking her.” I can’t tell you how many people I’ve heard use that expression and it makes me wanna punch something. Being beautiful is not the key to happiness, love, security or anything else. It might get you your Starbucks faster, but in the scheme of things…

The truth of it is, most of the beautiful women I’ve known in my life are also the most insecure. When everyone tells you how pretty you are, then it’s easy for your self-worth to tie only to your external beauty. Since we all grow old, how well can someone like that fare as they begin to age? If one’s only perceived value is what they see in the mirror, what happens when what they see is 50 or 60 or 70 years old? Our value should come from everything beneath the façade.

So what if you are 40 pounds or 90 pounds overweight? Who cares if you are 20 pounds underweight? The only reason I’d give a rat’s ass is that I’d be worried about your health. What matters to me is WHO you are, not what you look like. What a shallow bunch of shit. Now, don’t get me wrong. I don’t mind a peek at a nice photo of Chris Hemsworth every now and again. I’m not blind. But if I met him and he was a dick? Then I’d never want to meet or see him again. It’s all about the love and joy and fun and support and strength that someone brings to others’ lives. Fuck how pretty their hair is or how nice of an ass they have. When life gets hard and you need someone to help carry you through those dark hours, do you really care if they have a 24 inch waist? Or do you care that they love you enough to endure any hardship that comes your way?

Here is an excerpt from a real eulogy a man spoke for his wife. This is the kind of  love I’d hope to hear at my own funeral. Note he never once talks about missing her 6-pack abs.

I don’t know about anyone of you, but as for me, getting married to my wife was the best thing that every happened to me. She was my best friend, my lover, and my wife. She was the source of all the happiness and all the fun I had in my lifetime.

The best part of each day was waking up to find her by my side and the best part of each night was going to sleep knowing she was laying next to me and the best thing about life was knowing no matter how hard it got, how scary it was, or how poor we were, all I had to do was go home, close the door behind me, and see my wife and the sun would shine and nothing else would seem that important any longer.

I guess what they say about your home being your castle is really true because whenever I got home everything outside my door was no longer of any concern. 

I will miss her terribly, but then I will see her in my mother-in-law and sister-in-laws and children and even grandchildren and I will smile knowing that a part of her is still with us.

I am saddened by my loss. She died too soon. “Why did god take her from me?” That is what I asked myself when Kathy passed last Sunday. It took this entire week before I realized that I was looking at it all backwards. That I had taken the wrong perspective to examine what had just occurred.

Try to imagine with me, if you will, that first day when the spark and fire of love was first felt by me. I went home and thanked the Lord for sending Kathy to me.

Did I ask him to give me 43 years of bliss and happiness? Would I have been so bold and brazen to have said, “Lord I demand 43 years of having a companion to share life with?”

Of course not. I was and always am timid and shy when speaking to our Lord. Do Your will, not mine. Who knew how great His love for me would have been. Who could have expected God to be so caring as to have granted to me such a wonderful life.

I would like to end this now with a simple prayer. If you would all bow your heads.

Heavenly Father, Your servant Kathy has returned to Your side in Heaven. We give You thanks for allowing her to stay with us as long as she did and we know it was time for her to leave us. Please Lord, let her know of our love for her and keep her in eternal peace. Amen

Quit being a fucktard

Seriously, I’ve tried to write this post 50 times and keep deleting it.

I’m trying to be delicate and inoffensive (which, I know, is rare!).

But I’m just going to say it.

People have a right to be who they are. Period.

If you don’t like it, don’t look at it.

If you don’t like it, don’t go to their parties.

If you don’t like it, don’t invite them over for Sunday dinner.

If you don’t like it, tough noogies.

I can GUARANTEE that no matter what kind of clean-living life you think you lead (and by you, I mean everyone on earth), there is someone on this planet who despises your faith, your politics, your sexuality, the color of your skin, etc…

It is sad that people hate so quickly and easily for something as little as where someone else sticks their dick.

Who the hell cares?

All of us have done or do things that others wouldn’t approve of, but we don’t want to be judged.

So, here’s an idea, don’t judge others either.

There will always be people you don’t like. I can name a few off the top of my head that I’d like to see eaten by prairie dogs. But it’s not because of who they sleep with, what church they attend, how much or little melanin they have in their skin.

If I hate a mother fucker it’s because they treat people like shit. It’s a personal kind of dislike that is rooted totally in the fact that that person makes a conscious effort to ruin other people’s lives in a direct, person-to-person way.

A transgender couple in Alabama is not mean to me, therefore I hope they are happy and live wonderful lives.

A biracial couple raising biracial kids in Washington is not mean to me, therefore I hope they are happy and live wonderful lives.

A gay couple getting married because they are in love is not being mean to me, therefore I hope they too are happy and live wonderful lives.

What I can never understand is why people latch onto things that they personally think are unacceptable because they fall outside of their own view of the world, and then choose to rail on about how bad, evil, against God, unnatural, blah blah blah those ways of life are.

Honest to God, one of the best things anyone can do both for society and for themselves is learn that a world full of happy, loving, tolerant, non-judgmental people, who spend their time doing things to BETTER the world rather than spitting venom into it, is a better world in which everyone can find their bit of joy.

I remember once being preached at by someone about how gays are ruining the world. Meanwhile, this person was married and having not one, but two, affairs.

Hmmm…I think that those without sin should chuck that first rock. The hypocrisy about killed me. But then everyone can find ways to defend their own lifestyle choices, while condemning others’ right to make their own.

My mantra is this: Wake up. Hurt no one. Go to sleep. Wake up. Repeat.

To me, and only to me as everyone is allowed their own opinion, that is the way to lead a truly happy life.

I don’t worry about who fucks who.

I don’t worry about who prays to what God.

All I care about is that we are kind to each other and try to create a world where our children will grow into happy, healthy adults where the word “tolerance” isn’t even a part of their vocabulary because allowing someone to live a life different from their own isn’t “tolerating” anything. It’s just how it is and all’s good.

I know there may be people who read this and say that I’m trying to choke my own thoughts down their throat so aren’t I a big ole fucking hypocrite? Well, if me sharing that I want people to live wonderful, judgment-free lives where differences aren’t only tolerated but celebrated, then I’m okay being labeled a hypocrite.

I hear all the time from people defending their right to hate somebody that “MY God doesn’t approve of that,” when it comes to the way some people choose to live their lives.

Well, let me just say this. My God is loving. My God sacrificed his Son for our sins. My God judges lives when you walk though the Pearly Gates–so that means you don’t have to do His job for Him.

When it all comes down in the end…when you look back on your life…do you want it to be full of antagonism, prejudice, hate, intolerance and judgment?

Or do you want to look back and say, “I did my best to create a good life, bring people around me joy, and now I can die knowing I did the best I could.”?

I vote for the second option.

In those last moments will you think about all the people you hated or will you think about the love you’ve been blessed enough to know?

If the answer is “the love” then why wait until your final moments? Why not live that life now?

But better people than me have written about such things, and so here are words from a very wise person about The End.

In my rear view mirror the sun is going down
Sinking behind bridges in the road
And I think of all the good things
That we have left undone
And I suffer premonitions
Confirm suspicions
Of the holocaust to come.

The rusty wire that holds the cork
That keeps the anger in
Gives way
And suddenly it’s day again.
The sun is in the East
Even though the day is done.
Two suns in the sunset
Could be the human race is run.

Like the moment when the brakes lock
And you slide towards the big truck
You stretch the frozen moments with your fear.
And you’ll never hear their voices
And you’ll never see their faces
You have no recourse to the law anymore.

And as the windshield melts
My tears evaporate
Leaving only charcoal to defend.
Finally I understand the feelings of the few.
Ashes and diamonds
Foe and friend
We were all equal in the end.

Nooooooooooo! The Beginning of the End.

Well, it’s confirmed.

I’m older than Methuselah!

And I’m able to document when my ancient-ness started to the exact day. How many people can say that?

So, there I am, putting on a little makeup before the man gets home so that I don’t rival the Crypt Keeper for ugliest freak show on earth and I see something in my eyebrow.

“What on earth is that?” I ask myself.

Then I flip the mirror around to the 10x magnification side (eeeee gawds, don’t ever do that!) and saw this monstrosity:

Eyebrow from Hell 2014What in the ever-loving hell is that?

Who ever heard of such a hideous thing?

Half luxurious black. Half Jodi-is-old-as-dirt gray.

What the fuck????????

I’m too young for this!

Oh, and add to the grayness the fact that that eyebrow hair is 300 feet long.

It looks like a 90-year-old man’s nose hair.

Hmmm…what shall I do to cheer myself up?

I’m thinking a splurge of pizza for dinner.

Yep, that’ll heal what ails me.


Hope you guys are having a good week! XO



Should auld acquaintance be forgot? Fuck no! ;)


Yes, yes…I know. I’ve been gone forever. I have no good excuse (but I’m gonna give you several!) except that I needed a break.

EXCUSE 1: Sex? What’s sex?

Between twitter, FB and the 10 other sites I manage, I just had to put my foot down and realize that the hubby needed more sex from me! Too much time on the computer is not good.

KIDDING!!! He was still gettin’ it good. But I felt like I was only giving him one ear in the evenings cause my brain was in my computer all the time. That is a no-no.

EXCUSE 2: All work and no play make Jodi a raving lunatic.

The day job is killing me! I average about 65 hours a week doing nothing but using my brain to the best of its ability. My job isn’t one where you get a little brain downtime. It’s non-stop, all day long, until I run out of the house tearing out my hair and begging for the neighbors to shoot me. I thought it would have settled down by now, but not yet. Alas, the thought of even looking at a computer once the work day is over makes me rather ill.

EXCUSE 3: That mother fuckin’ Atkins diet about put me in the hospital.

I have NEVER felt worse in my life. I, and I kid you not, was falling unconscious at 6pm and sleeping like I was in a coma until the alarm would wake me up at 7am. It was horrible. And my poor tummy…man, my body does not like all that protein! Total suck.

So, please forgive my Exit Stage Left without warning. I feel like a schmuck as I love you guys and really have missed you. I just need work to calm down a bit so that I can happily embrace my computer after the workday is done.

Oh, and I’ve had two chickens die in the last month…one of old age and another one (one of the replacement-so-wifey-isn’t-sad-about-dead-chicken chickens) who drowned when our back yard had its monthly irrigation. Poor little critter. So yes, I’ve been a bit off lately. But will be back soon enough and then you’ll wish I’d stayed hidden! ;)

In an effort to say I’m sorry I’m going to do another Kindle book giveaway this upcoming Friday-Tuesday. I’ll post details later, but since you all live so far away from me I don’t know what else to do to say LOVE YA except give you free stuff.





Okay, to say you’ve been warned is an understatement. I did an entire preemptive blog post about NOT READING THIS! ;)

It really is sinfully inappropriate and has VERY bad cuss words (yes, including THE worst word as far as women are concerned). So, if you read this, read at your own risk.

Now that the disclaimers are on the table, let’s get down to the good stuff. :)

I had a job a while ago and hired a wonderful man to work for me. He is the funniest, smarmiest Brit and we got along famously from the moment we met. Of course, as a boss I was initially such a good girl around him (meaning I didn’t say, “Fuckedy fuck fuck fuck” and kept my sass mouth to a minimum).

Well, one day while in the studio one of us (I don’t even recall who) slipped and said Fuck and no one cared (duh…). All I remember thinking is that it was such a relief to know that we could talk like normal people and not worry about our language.

Well…from that point on it just got wonderfully worse and worse. Then we started hanging out outside of work and became even better friends.

Even though he was technically my employee, I certainly considered him more of a coworker as we busted ass together everyday to get the job done. I became “Boss Lady” and he became “Minion.” We still hang out and have the most egregious conversations that make me laugh and laugh and laugh.

So, we finally got to the point where our one liners would make us giggle so hard that we created twitter pages and would post the awful things one another would say. But the good part was that what we’d say was still totally organic and not for the sake of posting it. We just kept on like we always had, but occasionally documented the craziness. Below is a sample of the hideous shit that would come out of our mouths. I’ll start with my unforgivable sassiness, then move on to his.

I hope this actually makes you laugh as none of it (well, 98% of it) doesn’t have a single mean thought behind it. It was all just for comic relief as we worked in a fucking nut house and needed to let of steam lest we burn the place to the ground.



“I rule. Never forget it lest ye be reminded in unpleasant, analy intrusive ways.” (Really, just a general observation that anyone working for me should believe down deep in their heart.)

“Go masturbate to midget porn in the parking lot.” (I figure sometimes a man needs an unusual kind of release!)

“I will dress in all vinyl and lick shoes.” (On how I could launch a fetish website where I don’t actually show any body parts but charge a fortune to pervs who like shoe licking.)

To another coworker: “Bitch, I will knock you out.” (And I will, dammit!)

“I’m the girl that goes to Albertson’s to take a shit.” (God…I can’t believe I’m not deleting this one. Well, any of you who’ve read my Intimacy book already know this. Someone kill me, please? I share way too much.)

“With a little ketchup, children taste like chicken.” (Yeah, I don’t know. I’m a horrible person.)

“I’m nothing if not offensive.” (Ain’t that the truth!)

“I think my boobs grew overnight. They won’t stay wrangled today.” (THEY WOULDN’T! Sometimes it feels like either elves came in during the night and tailored my bra a size smaller or God went “Ding!” and grew them a size while I slept. I’ll never understand but woo hoo to big boobies!)

“I have no dignity, it’s all been raped out of me.” (Yep. Truly horrible. But we giggled like school children in church.)

“The number of old men that have seen my boobies…” (Okay, I don’t really think there are that many…but for some reason the comment seemed apropos at the time.)

“She’s so douchey I can smell vinegar all the way over here.”  (Honest to God, that bitch was such a douche that I wanted to start calling her Eve…as in Summer’s…)

“Go gay. You can share clothes.” (I think this is a great idea for everyone!)

“Cantaloupe, my friend. I’ll bring in a wig you can stick on it tomorrow.” (Okay, side story to this one. I always think that if I were a guy I’d stick my pecker into all sorts of things. I think I’d start with a warm cantaloupe. Cut out a hole and have at it. Seems perfect! So, I used to share that philosophy with some of my friends at work and even created a Ms. Cantaloupe name plate with her photo on it—a cantaloupe with a blonde wig, big blue eyes and pouty red lips. Needless to say it was just wonderfully horrifying. So, I said that lovely comment to my wonderful minion when he was whining about not getting laid enough. Ha!)

“Fuck a duck.” (An oldie, but a goodie.)

“My dear, you are so sweet and I appreciate it, but FUCK THAT TWAT!” (In response to my lovely minion apologizing to me about a situation we got into at work with the girl that smelled douchy. Tee hee hee. She is/was/will always be a major twat!)

“I’m going to bring a dick to work, just so you can suck it.” (This is one of my all-time favorites. I thought my minion was going to choke to death he was laughing so hard.)


“I’m not into water sports, but whenever I see Fergie I kinda want to pee on her. Is that weird.” (YES that’s weird, you fucktard! But a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.)

“Had a dog assplosion. On my way.” (A text explaining why he was late to work. He was usually late and I didn’t care, but I loved this particular excuse.)

“In one sentence I cock blocked the dude she was with and made her cry. WIN!” (Horrible man! Though the girl to which he is referring was a total hosebeast, so I can’t fault him too much.)

“In the words of a wise woman I USED to like, ‘Eat a bag of dicks.'” (Quoting me, because I say horrible things! He only USED to like me cause I left and went to a new job, stranding him with all the asshats we used to take on as a team. Poor thing…)

“Kill me plzthxbye.” (I’m always willing to lend a guy an ax…or hammer…or some other device for killing. I’m that kind of friend!)

“Dear Jesus, thank you for Soma and weed… Without these things I would surely scalp my current boss and violate her corpse in a fit of rage… Which might create a bit of a legal snag.” (After I left my job, my wonderful ex-minion texted me this about his new boss. Ha! I felt so loved and missed!)

“My mother just asked me if I’ve seen my father’s penis. I really want to die right now.” (I kinda wanna die too.)

“Buses? How the fuck do you spell the plural of buss?!?! I need another drink.” (Yep, not always sober at work. ;) )

“…other than the fact that you like to encourage me to make love to inanimate objects, you mean?” (Look, if a man is having a dry spell I’m all about encouraging the use of alternative forms of relief. I’m non-judgmental like that!)

“Because you’re a sick cunt.” (While you might think this is just horrible, that shit made me laugh soooo hard!! Who says that?? To their boss? It was awesome. God only knows what I said to warrant such a comment—probably something equally horrible, if not worse. ;) )

“I just bought a mentally challenged guy a whiskey. That makes me a philanthropist, right?” (Good Lord…this is wrong in so many ways…He’s clearly going to Hell.)

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.” (Yep, you can see why I like him so much! That kinda talk is right up my alley!)

“Jesus Herbert Christ.  Women are fucking horrible (present company excluded).” (Hey, at least he excluded me, though I’m sure I’m often quite horrible.)

“I want to kill anything that has a vagina.” (HA! I know I’ve wanted to kill all pecker-having creatures before, so I totally get this sentiment.)

“Know this: I am the most awesome guy you ever met.” (His humility is his most endearing quality.)

“Hoarders” totally ripped off my show “Silverfish Charlie and the Cat Pee Kids”. (EWWWW!!)

“Why am I always the ruiner of lives?” (Because he’s so good at it?)

“Do you know anyone that makes and/or sells moonshine?” (Yep…there may be a drinking-related problem there. ;) )

“For the record, I didn’t start the fight.” (Yeah, yeah…that’s what they all say.)

“I now have one less item on my bucket list. Just watched a deaf girl sing karaoke.” (Bless her heart! I’m a total karaoke chicken—I could take a lesson from such a brave girl!)

“What in the name of Jupiter’s asshole is True Cloud?” (Does Jupiter have a butt? I learn something new everyday.)

“Portable studio? Rape dungeon? No one can hear you scream.” (Rape dungeon! Holy shit. You’d think this might make me scared of him and the millions of hours we’d spend alone at the office…alas, it just made me pass out laughing. This was in reference to us getting a functional recording studio that could move around at the whim of a bunch of bosses who think letting you stay in the same fucking desk area for more than two weeks is a shit idea. Fuckheads.)

“There’s something sinister about eating eels that just came out of your own asshole.” (Honest to God…I don’t want to know. Isn’t eating anything out of one’s backside kinda fucked up?)

“Is it weird that I’m erect now?” (I assume all men are erect all the time. So no. Not weird.)

“Okay, I’m going to find a ram to sacrifice for you.” (How sweet! I’ve never had anyone sacrifice anything for me before. I feel all special.)

“Why are they killing our cube?” (Yep, yet another example of bosses moving us around for no good damn reason. Whoever wrote the business book“Who Moved My Cheese?” should be shot and killed. I can only imagine that businesses have spent $10,000,000,000,000,000 simply moving their employees from desk to desk to desk because God forbid anyone get comfortable at the office. It might actually lead to an employee being happy on occasion. PS: For those of you who know that piece of shit book, I one time had to dress up like one of the mice and perform like a trained monkey at a sales conference. It was horrible. I did NOT get paid enough money to make such an ass of myself. Total SUCK!)

“If it weren’t for alcohol, I’d probably be a serial killer. I’d only target morons though.” (I’m pretty sure he is a serial killer. He gets this look on his face that thrills me and terrifies the masses. I know he’s a kitten on the inside…way, way, way, way down deep.)

“I’m awesome, but I’m not a prostitute.” (Then, my friend, you are not awesome.)

So there you have it. While I do NOT miss that job one tiny bit (wanted to die everyday), I totally miss the insane amounts of fun my minion and I had together. We worked hard but managed to take the edge off with truly horrible discourse. Love him for making my days brighter through inappropriate behavior. Woo hoo!

Hope you aren’t all disgusted beyond belief, but remember, I warned you so NO GUFF! ;)

Love ya! Have a great weekend! XO

PS: My minion is the same person who turned me onto Angry Birds. FUCKER! At least I finally kicked that habit…now if only Candy Crush would explode and die. ;)