Even When I Can't Write, I Can Still Babble Like A Monkey. Babblin' Monkey

UPDATED: 9PM Central, 10 Eastern, 7 Pacific, 8 Mountain


So it's that time again.

Join Jason and me tonight for BoomTube Live. Sign-up for a USTREAM account so you can chat with us live on the air.

Things you could learn about:

USTREAM Gang Wars, it's on!
My irrational fears
Dry sponges
and more!

Also? I might delve into the great Teen Wolf topic.

At the very least, I promise I'll look like a total tool.



And don't forget to tune into Skankelodeon directly afterwards. I've linked it over on the side.

Of course, Droppin' The Boom will be on Saturday night as well. Info on the side again!

I've Gotta Do It My Way, Or No Way At All

Yeah, I HAVE been on a weird Foreigner kick. So just turn me loose, okay?

This week I'm in the weirdest fog ever. It's like my brain is just like, "Seriously? This shit is bogus and I'm so fucking out of here!" And I still have 9 days until vacation. Brain. Brain! Do you hear me, I need you to check back in and get the hell back to work.

The worst is when I'm in the car. Driving back and forth to work I've had to literally slap myself in the face to stay awake. Which, if that is what I have to do, then so be it, but the people at stop lights next to me are looking at me a little strangely. In any case, it's clear, I either have Mono or Narcolepsy.

I know this because a symptom of both of those is clearly the tingly, itching feeling I have on the back, right side of my head that feels like my brain might just burst out of it at any moment like the Alien. It feels fuzzy and twitchy and like it's directly connected right to my left eyeball.

Also? Someone on Twitter said that perhaps I should think about writing a dictionary because I said, "I'm getting ready to interview a guy named Stiles, how Teen Wolf awesome is that radness?" She said, "Who says that?"

Erm, me, I say that and that is totally clear and something you'd hear on any given day in any given place, right?

Sure it is.

And just to hammer the point home, I guess. I had an email exchange with The Slackmistress the other day that ended really, really well.

You know, if you're discussing unicorn farts.

I kind of didn't have the heart to tell her that it was a totally normal conversation for me. Mostly because I didn't want to scare her.

I Did That Thing Where You Tell Someone About Your Blog And Then They Have To Read It

I do this thing when I get drunk and tell people about my blog. And then I always regret it the next day. The good news is THIS TIME, I don't regret it at all. My friend Tiffany is going to be reading and I'm sure SHE will regret that shit soon.

But I know her husband and I know that she has a lot more to regret in life than this.

However, she's probably going to be confused about a few things.

Let me provide a little key to reading my blog. I write about a few things a lot.

Zombies - I have a weird fascination with zombies. She'll understand, she knows Mr. Boom's when he's been drinking.

Robots - They are crazy cool and when they take over the world I want to be on their good side.

Shivs - When robots take over the world, or I end up in prison because of something Jason has done, I will want to be as schooled on shivs as possible. So I talk about those a lot. I'm still not down with how to keister stash one though.

Joaquin Phoenix - I don't know. He's just really weird and cool. That's all.

Teen Wolf - Teen Wolf will be saving the world when the robots take over. It's the only explanation for why Teen Wolf has had a resurgence and this is the Year of Teen Wolf.

Air-punching - It's the universal signal for kicking fucking ass. Who doesn't get this?

Being a rail riding, breakdancing hobo who is a master of skullfuckery - Wow, that's kind of a long story.

Billy Idol - The king of air-punching.

Saying things about Jesus that are bad.

Other random things:

Kenny Rogers
Foreigner
Journey
Wolf Nuggets
Monster Squad
Nards
Mr. T

You know, looking over this list I now realize there is no real help for me. My mind is a strange and dark place. Which is mostly okay by me, but if you're reading my blog and enjoying it, you are screwed.

I Crushing Your Head Because Lassos and Invisible Jets Are Played Out

I lay in bed, working and stretching out all of the kinks that always work themselves up overnight and hang around until my medicine kicks in about an hour later. So I stretched and did the very same thing I've done every morning since I was a little girl.

I reached my arm out and took my fingers and did the "I crushing your head" move to something across the room.

If you don't know what I'm talking about, well... You need to check your freaking life. You've fucked up somewhere along the way.

So I lay there and I do things like pull my drawers open from across the room. And I pick up things that are on the shelf, way over in the bathroom. I even do it with my foot and kick imaginary holes in the wall. I can actually see the sheet rock crumbling.

And that's when I realized that this? THIS? Would be the most awesome super power EVER!

I just don't know what to call it when I finally get asked what super power I'd liked to be assigned. I kind of think I just made it up.

I am, however, absolutely positive that if a hipster was going to have a super power, this would be the one, because you haven't seen this before. And if you say that you have? You are a fucking liar. Or you spent a lot of time in Europe, whatever.

You Know How You Do Someone A Favor And Then They Turn Around And Treat You Like An Asshole?

Sure you do. If not, then meet Rassles.

So yeah, I should have learned my lesson when I guest posted last week. Click on over and read the last guest post I'm ever going to write.

Sometimes you just have to know when to Never Say Die* and other times you just have to know when to fold them**.

I'm totally shanking her when she gets back to the mid-west.




*Teen Wolf
**Mr. Kenny Rogers.

Updated! - My Kid Just Coughed Up Something That Looks Like Joaquin Phoenix

Crazyman Jones has been sick for days now. Shortly after I discovered that he had coughed until he threw up a half-crazed, bearded actor this morning and started calling himself "Young Wheezy", I too developed a hacking cough. Jason spent the better part of the morning in and out of the doctor's office and then the hospital when it was decided that the wheeze wasn't just an affectation that Crazyman developed to set himself apart from other toddlers and sky rocket his career to stardom.

Nope, it's just a case of bronchiolitis and possibly hairballs. And that knowledge dashed my dreams of Casey Affleck following my son around with a video camera while he launched his rapping career and beat down hecklers. Which is a shame, because my kid is mad awesome at beating down hecklers.

Instead? I just get to hook my kid up to a nebulizer everyday, but already I'm working on getting him to say, "Luke, I am your father." It sounds just a little like, "Wuke, amabada fawda."

Close enough.

All of this might explain why my kid had taken to calling me Mandy all weekend long.

Or maybe not.


*** Just realized, this does not explain why his dad called me Mandy all weekend.

So the lab just called and RSVP'd and I was all, "The hell, I didn't even invite you and besides, I never expect anyone to actually RSVP because I never do, I'm THAT person." As it turns out, they weren't RSVPing at all. They didn't even want to come over for a beer. Jerkoids. Instead? They were telling us that Crazyman has RSV. Which is not nearly as much fun as an RSVP - not even close. It's mostly just a virus he got from kissing some kid at his daycare. That kid's mother, never took her to the doctor. Oh and yeah? All the kids have been sent home for the same thing we were just the first to take our kid to the doctor, and a hospital, oh and a lab too. See the cool part about being responsible is you get to find out the really bad news before anyone else and when you think it means that you are throwing an awesome party that you forgot about, it's even more disappointing.

I'm Going To Be A Toothless Old Hag...

This morning I went into the dentist's office and I was all, "hello world, lets dig and scrape at my teeth this morning. I cannot think of one single, solitary thing I'd rather do. Other than perhaps poke myself in the eye or better yet? Prostate exam!"

I know, but I would rather have someone dig for my imaginary prostate.

So when they asked if I had any concerns about my teeth, I offered up that I had a huge gaping hole in the middle of one of them. Oh and I had broken off more than half of the tooth as well. "Should I poke myself in the eye now? No? Wanna see my prostate?"

"What is that you ask? How long ago? Oh about two-weeks." Because December totally was two weeks ago. I remember it being two weeks.

And then the dentist went at my face with a shiv and I wasn't even excited. He scraped and hacked. He dug and poked my gums, who didn't even see that shit coming. Then asked me the questions he always asks about my wisdom teeth that I have not yet given up, because you read me, you know I need that shit. The wisdom, that is. Teeth are kind of optional.

And as it turns out, they really are optional. Early this morning my dentist made me weigh out the pros and cons of teeth having. It's not something that I ever really pondered before that very moment. Honestly, there really isn't enough caffeine to make that feel easy or even normal. I had the option of dropping a ton on a crown that MIGHT last 5 years or having it removed. I could pay for a filling in a wisdom tooth that is useless or I could have it removed.

In the end, my dentist was very sad to hear that I would have the uncrowned tooth yanked. He said they like to save teeth. However? I was totally not fooled by his pouting face. Because have you seen the difference in cost between a filling and crown and just having a tooth pulled? No? It's the difference between a robot that pours you beer, cleans your toilets, makes cheeseburgers, BACON CHEESEBURGERS and looks like Teen Wolf and the Omnibot 2000. I mean the Omnibot was righteous in it's time, but a complete let down.

It was apparent when his dollar sign shaped eyeballs went crashing to the floor that I had just omnibotted his cha-ching dreams. Oh but you should have seen the glow return to his eyeless face as he spout out the joys of bridgework and better yet! Dental Implants! Yeah, we're having fun now, kids.

I spent the entirety of my ride to work smiling into my rear-view mirror. And, unless I smile like a freak (shut up) there is nothing to worry about. I won't be flashing my hole at people.

Not even if you ask.

Weirdo.


PS - My husband is super stoked at the idea of having a toothless wife. He said we can drive through trailer parks without weird looks now. And when we want to go to pawn shops or swap meets, people will stop asking us if we're lost. Also? The DMV and Wal-Hell will now accept me as one of them.

Milking It

And I know you were wondering what has sent me flipping and flopping over the deep end.

I'm not ready!

I'M NOT FREAKING READY!!!!

A Lunch Hour Poorly Spent

Also? The worst illustration I've done so far. Enjoy:

Have you ever tried to name a company? Well, have you?

In the always exciting, rarely disappointing land of Booms, big happenings are going on. My ever-driven, hates working for The Man, wants to be The Man-husband is possibly launching his own company.

I, personally, think he's just sick of working with ass-faced whores.

In this endeavor he has acquired a partner and one of the first hang-ups they've run into is naming the company, so you know who they've turned to. Ahem.

With my offering of Zombie with a Shiv, LLC turned down, I came back with Teen Wolf Town and was again shot down. The hell? So obviously I'm dealing with some finicky mofo's here. That was my best stuff! I thought about busting out OLLCJ, LLC but that seemed kind of confusing.

Obviously, I was going to have to stretch my creative legs and get a little more, uncreative. In a moment of greatness I came up with Monarch Property Solutions.

Bitchin', right?

Wrong, so bitchin' it's taken. Well not the solutions part, but you know, the rest of it.

So this crap is keeping us awake at night and no one, I mean no one or thing keeps me from sleeping. Last night I tossed and turned, names spinning around inside my mind. Suddenly, I jolted awake and sat up in a flash of genius, I had it!

SugarPapas!

Wait, what? What the fuck is that about? SugarPapas? They are accountants not pimps.

Hmmm, I don't think I can convince them to start a pimp business, and Jason looks horrible in big hats with feathers, back to the drawing board. So back to sleep I went. I tossed and I turned, I flipped and I flopped and suddenly there it was!

Mo-Narch.

Man, that's just stupid. Maybe they could take up drug sniffing and be Mo-Narcs. Missouri's best drug finding freaks.

As it turns out, I really suck at this. I suck hardcore at this. Especially? When I'm trying to sleep.

On my drive in to work today, I thought of another one that just might work. However, despite how uncreative I am, I know that quite a few ultra-creative people read this.

If you have a bitchin' name for a property management company, throw it out there. And it has to be better than:

Radd Property Solutions. Which I thought of already, mostly because I just wanted to answer the phone that way.

But if you offer up a name and we end up using it or some version of it, we'll send you something reaaaaal niiiiiiice, Clark.

So, any thoughts?

When The Universe Speaks and People Fling Dog Crap, You Better Listen

Hold on, because I'm about to blow that melon of yours right off your shoulders.

Yeah, you read me right. And, when I say I'm going to blow your mind, I don't mean blow your mind like how mine was blown the other day when my husband not only woke me and himself up by yelling at me in his sleep, but evidently, he was so pissed at dream me he broke his front tooth too.

He broke his tooth yelling at me in his sleep. That's hardcore.

Nor am I going to blow your mind the way my husband did again, when he frantically told me that everyone in our house was going to get sick because I was obviously capable of some ultimate wizardry of the immune system or perhaps can manipulate the germ population. Because when I said we'd all end up sick for our vacation, obviously I brought down a curse upon our house, because I'm that black magical and mystical, bitches.

No, I'm going to blow your mind like I'm Ronnie James Dio or like Huey FRICKING Lewis. That's right. You can't even comprehend, can you? I may blow your mind like I'm Kenny "The Mind Blower" Loggins - but that is a big claim and I'm not sure that I'm man enough to take you into THAT Danger Zone!

So, today I was cruising down the highway on my way to meet Jason at that mecca of nasty deliciousness that is home of the best sandwich EVER! I'm talking the Filet O Fish. Holla. And, around here we have these crazy, rad, daredevil cops that stand on the side of the highway with radar guns and STEP OUT IN FRONT OF SPEEDING CARS to stop them and give them tickets.

As I changed lanes from behind one car to get behind the other that was going almost as slow, I saw the reason why. Crazy daredevil at 10:00. Right as I noticed him, noticing me, he stepped out into the street. The car in front of me slowed and went by. The cop stepped right in front of my car. I either had to stop or pull over, mostly because I didn't have time for a high speed chase with a cop on foot. So I started to pull over and as I pulled over the cop, who was all of 7 feet in front of my car, shook his head and pointed to the car behind me.

And I was totally speeding.

As the cop waved me on, my brain began to unfuzz and I heard the DJ on the radio loud and clear and she said these two words:

TEEN. WOLF.

Yeah! That's right.

And then? Then I heard the Power of Love by Huey FRICKING Lewis and the Mo'Fahking News. I know what you're thinking, totally different M.J. Fox movie.

But come on, you gotta admit, if that's not a sign, what the hell is?

Also? While I was at lunch I missed some guy coming in and slamming a bag of dog shit down on my desk because he was mad at my boss.

Wolf Man's Got Nuggets!

This is being written from the comfort of my living room couch on a Monday morning. Monkey is sick today. She's simultaneously warm and clammy after having tossed her cookies. Or I guess she tossed her wolf nuggets.

Delicious and nutritious, wolf nuggets.

Last night as Jason was making dinner, I decided to learn my kids the Gospel that is Teen Wolf.

I know, I should have my parental rights stripped for the delay in that major milestone. But better late than never, right?

So, Jason is in the kitchen being my personal chef and the kids and I are watching Scott Howard's coming of age story when Monkey eeks out the most loaded question you can ask in our house.

"What's for dinner?" she almost absent mindedly muttered?

"Wolf nuggets.", I said.


Monkey: What? Wolf nuggets?

Me: Yeah, wolf nuggets, what of it?

Monkey: Nuh uh.

Jason: Yeah huh - wolf nuggets. But you know they are illegal, so don't tell anyone.

Monkey just looks sickened.

Me: Yeah, totally. Jason had to go to a special market to get them. He had to know a password and everything. What was the name of that market, Jason?

Jason: The black market.

Me. Right, the black market. So, it's delicious and nutritious wolf nuggets for us.

Monkey: Sick!

Jason: AAAAAOOOOOOOOOOOHHHH!

Crazyman: AAAAAOOOOOOOOOHHHH!

Monkey: Gah.

We settle down for a bit. Crazyman sees Jason is prepping dinner so he goes and climbs into his booster to demand that dinner cooks faster.

Me: Mmmmm, I can't wait for some wolf nuggets.

Crazyman: AAAAAAOOOOOOOHHHHH

Monkey: Ugh. (Her shoulders start to hunch, beginning the process of her folding in on herself.)

Me: (To the tune of Hot Blooded by Foreigner):

I got Wolf Nuggets
Check it and see
If I've got one then I've got three

Come on baby, give my nuggets a chance.

I've got wolf nuggets, wolf nuggets!

Crazyman: AAAAAAOOOOOOOOHHHHH

Monkey is totally screwed up at this point. Sucking lemons doesn't come close to her expression.

Me: Go ask Jason to see the nuggets.

Heading into the kitchen, she sees Jason holding up the chicken fried steak he's making and Monkey promptly looks like she's going to puke.

Crazyman, still in his booster, banging his fork: AAAAAAOOOOOOHHHHHHH

Me: Never say die, Monkey, never say die.

Jason: Dinner's ready!

Monkey sits at the table and her shoulders hunch further in, completing the "my parents are such turds" folding herself in half, tween maneuver.

She eyes the food on her plate, willing the vomit to come and get her out of the whole scene.

Jason: It's chicken fried steak, Monk! Give me a break!

Me: giggling

Crazyman: AAAAAAAOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHH

I Feel Weird...

Recently I've realized that I've been feeling really strange. Some of you might call it "manic" and still some of you may have referred to the fact that I might be "cracking the fuck up."

Whatever. You guys can be so mean.

But truly, I have been feeling weird and suddenly as I was driving back to my office from lunch with Jason today, it hit me.

I was sitting behind the wheel and I was all, "Wait, what is that? Is that what I think it is? Is that happiness? Yes, Yes, I think it is."

When I laugh, I'm feeling it on the inside rather than just laughing because it's what I'm supposed to do.

Suddenly it feels like there is life inside of me again. I don't feel like the soft underbelly of a raw nerve ending.

I feel alive.

And, I haven't felt this way in nearly 4 years. Not since Jadon died.

Much to my husband's chagrin, we suddenly remembered why everyone used to say that I reminded them of Dharma or Dharma reminded them of me, and let it be said that Jason is definitely the Greg to my Dharma.

So what appears to be me cracking up, is actually the first time I've been "normal" in so very long.

To celebrate this feeling, I have put together the BEST DRAWING EVER!

That's right, I went there.



Say it with me now! TADOW!

The Measure of a Friend

So a friend of mine, who shall remain nameless, is getting married in Las Vegas this summer. And given the kind of crowd that she runs with, I then wondered, to myself and on her wedding blog, how many of her guests would leave without one/all of the following:

1) VD
2) A drinking problem
3) A gambling problem
4) A dead hooker in their suitcase

And it was at that moment that I realized the perfect gift. I would indeed, as a gift to her, take that dead whore 200 miles out in the desert and bury it as her wedding gift. Because I am that kind of friend.

You know what else I would do? I would take something totally rockin' like Teen Wolf (and Teen Wolf Too) and devote an entire year of my life to the cause if, you for some reason, recently discovered that the universe was calling to you and sending you obvious signs that this was indeed the Year of Teen Wolf.

I would also drive a made mafia boss around in the trunk of my car and when me, Robert DeNiro and Joe Pesci hear thumping in the trunk, I'll pull over so that they can stab him and shoot him repeatedly before we dig yet another hole for the body adding extra inches for his hair-do.

Additionally, I'm such a kick ass friend I would even go looking for a sunken pirate ship that was manned by a pirate named One-eyed Willy, while being chased by Joe Pantoliano because that guy is always a schumck but somehow we love him anyway. And I would even help you glue the penis on your mom's statue of David on upside down just so Josh Brolin and his sweatband could make fun of us and tell us we'd piss in our eye.

If for some reason you accidentally snorted heroin instead of coke, then I would also drive you over to Eric Stoltz's house, even when he called me an asshole and told me not to call there. I'd give you the adrenaline shot and even listen to your dumb jokes.

Also? I'd fight vampire strippers in a Mexican strip club with you. I'm down.

There are numerous movie plots I'd live out for you. Some Scorsese, some Spielberg, Tarantino and even a little Hughes that I didn't even mention.

So tell me... what is the measure of a good friend to you?

Yeah, I'm having THAT day

So you know how you lay there in bed and you think about the day ahead of you and it becomes increasingly more difficult to get your ass in gear because as you lay there you realize that you are probably the LEAST creative person you will encounter in the entire day?

You realize that some run-on sentence that probably makes very little sense just might be the very best thing you do today and it's only 8:45. Wait, 8:46?

Then you realize that you really need to start working on doodles of conversion vans because if you are ever going to be able to pull-off a 1/2 arm zombie road surfing on top of a van in aviator sunglasses to the smooth sounds of Kenny Loggins while wearing a Teen Wolf t-shirt you are really going to need the practice. And by practice you really mean 4 years of art school. But because 2009 is the Year of Teen Wolf and you've already committed so strongly to 1/2 arm zombies you better get to work on making the two jive. And I mean a rockin' Teen Wolf Zombie/Kenny Loggins jive to make the world know you mean bidness.

Yeah, I'm totally having one of those days. I'm sure they have a book I can read to get through this though.

The only thing getting me through this situation is that I'm pretty sure with just minor effort I can top this:



Because if I can't top the beaver on a stick that my almost 2 year old brought home yesterday, I should just end it now, people.

And now I have to go write sentences that make sense and don't embarrass everyone who has ever known me. Although they wouldn't admit it now.