Category Archives: Seriously funny

Not Me. Really

It’s true.  I’m a dog person.

But I do like other animals.  Most other animals in fact.  And just because I’m a dog person doesn’t mean I don’t like cats.  I do!

And I do talk about poop a lot.  So I understand why you might be thinking that this is me, that I made this video.

But it’s not.  I didn’t.

In fact, I wouldn’t have found it except that I was reading a post over at The Bloggess. 

Jenny was using Google’s auto-complete function to see what would happen if she typed in “Jenny likes”.  I thought it would be fun to see what Elyse likes.

It turns out I like to poop on cats.

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=81kmp_Fj1Ng

I never knew.

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It Actually IS a GOP Sh*t Storm

We all knew it would be a shit storm when the GOP got together to nominate Donald Trump in Cleveland.  But even I didn’t think it would actually turn into a a convention hall where folks would be running for the bathrooms instead of the exits.

Apparently, though, they are.  Because the GOP doesn’t just have a shitty candidate, they have norovirus:

The virus can be caught through contact from infected people or surfaces, or through consuming contaminated food or water. Norovirus inflames the stomach, the intestines, or both. Symptoms include stomach pain, nausea, diarrhea and vomiting.  (Washington Post)

 

Of course, their candidate has been producing shit from his mouth and making the rest of the world vomit and crap their pants in fear since he announced he was running last year.  And then again each time he speaks.

But with the norovirus taking hold of the delegates, I’m wondering if Mr. Trump needs a new form of transportation to make sure those delegates fill the convention hall to listen to the crazy line up of misogynists, racists and fear mongers.

Don’t you think that they should be riding in this fine vehicle:

Stool bus from father kane

Picture Credit:  Father Kaine’s The Last of the Milleniums.  Where else?  He finds the best things.

Elections matter. 

Register. 

Vote. 

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Eat Your Heart Out, Lip-O-suction!

Like many Americans, I’m overweight.  Mostly I’ve accepted what I look like.  At least I do until someone pulls out a camera.  Then I use my handy line:

Do I have time for liposuction?”

Sadly, there’s never enough time for liposuction; they usually take the picture anyway.  And when I see it I wish someone would suck away the extra bits and bobs.

Few things make me laugh harder than the idea of liposuction.  I first learned of it in 1986.  I was in the reception area of one of my then-clients, chatting with his secretary, Cindy, a constant dieter, when she announced:

“Did you know you can vacuum your fat away?” Cindy told me.  “It’s a thing called Lip-O-Suction.  They stick this little gizmo in your fat lumps and vacuum the fat out!”

“Why diet when you can vacuum!” I replied.  Me and Cindy laughed and laughed.  You just can’t tell me it isn’t a hilarious image:  Women lining up in front of the Hoover before a date.

liposuction 2

Eureka!  Or is it Hoover?  Sllluuuppppppp Google Image

Now, though, there is a weight loss gadget that makes even liposuction pale in silliness.  Because folks have been busily inventing even sillier ways to get folks thin.  Or thinner.  Or, to totally disrupt their GI tract.

Introducing The Aspire Assist.  A personal stomach pump.  Yeah, I thought they were making it up, too.

Stomach pump

Photo credit:  Aspirebariatrics.com.  But I found it at the article referenced below

The Aspire Assist helps with weight loss because it empties up to 30% of the contents of your stomach into the toilet.  Before it reaches the inside or the outside of your butt.  Before that cherry pie becomes love handles.  Before those abs look more like a case than a six-pack.

According to this article here’s how it works.

Patients have a tube inserted into their stomachs then threaded out through an incision in the abdomen and capped with a poker chip–sized “Skin Port” valve.[…]  Twenty minutes after eating breakfast, lunch, and dinner, the patient attaches a handheld device to the Skin Port and empties 30 percent of the contents of his or her stomach into the toilet.

Twenty minutes is enough time for your brain to be convinced that you are full, but not enough time for your stomach to digest the food, the inventors say, and that means 30 percent of the calories from your meal magically disappear.

Sounds too good to be true, ammirite?  You can have all the benefits of bulimia without puking!  Whoo-hoo!

Of course, as a fake medical professional, I have questions:

  • Can the Aspire Assist discriminate?  I mean, can it choose to pull the ice cream out and leave the broccoli to work its way through my GI tract system?
  • Can it pull the pasta but leave the protein and the vitamins?
  • Can it please suck out the wine I drink so that I can be less of a cheap date?

Go ahead.  I dare you to watch this.  (I didn’t.  Ewwwwww.)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WfBE_DIR2Jo

I bet you didn’t play that video.  I’ll also wager you’re not gonna get an Aspire Assist.  anybody who has read this far is of above-average intelligence and has a seriously awesome sense of humor.

Some funny things should be enjoyed but definitely not be taken to heart.  Or to stomach.  Or drained into the toilet.

And some are just too weird to believe.

 

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You See, I DO Appreciate Art and Shit! 💩

With an artist brother and a sister-in-law, you’d think I’d be more involved in the art world. Sadly, I’m not.

I used to be more of a gallery girl, loved nothing more than spending time in any one of the wonderful museums and galleries near where I lived or worked.  And the galleries I got to visit while living in or traveling to Europe could fill a book.  Still, going to a museum with either Fred or my sister-in-law, with someone who knows a lot about art, well, it is a wonderful treat.

But with my Crohn’s disease as active as it is these days, I don’t go very often.

For anybody without access to art, though, I recommend following my blogging buddy Mark, of Exile on Pain Street .  He works in NYC and frequents museums, galleries and auctions and frequently writes about it on his blog.  Mark does it with wit and without the snobbishness that usually accompanies folks who talk about art.

But nobody posts about art quite like I do.  Or about art theft, because that’s really what this post is all about.  Art theft pure and simple.

How-to-Steal-a-Million-5

Audrey Hepburn and Peter O’Toole in How to Steal A Million (Google Image)

The international art heist I’m talking about occurred in Spain, just outside Madrid.  I’m pretty sure it involved neither Audrey nor Peter.  Nor, probably, would the stolen object ever find its way into the Louvre.

Still, if you know anything about art, the beauty of an object is all in the eye of the beholder.  It may also be dependent on the species.  Or on the leash holder.

Torrelodones, a town near Madrid, paid 2,400 euros ($2,726; £1,885) for this sculpture:

Spanish Dog poop sculpture

Yes, it is a giant, inflatable pile of dog poo.  Photo from BBC (although they might deny it)

The article I read says:

The three-metre high inflatable bought as part of a campaign to encourage pet-lovers to pick up after their dogs went missing, El Pais newspaper reports. The bizarre inflatable disappeared after it had been packed away in its carry-case and the police are now on the trail of the 30 kilogramme dog poop, town officials say.

Speaking to the ABC newspaper, town councillor Angel Guirao said staff were shocked and perplexed by the theft, and a replacement excrement was already on order because “we know that the campaign has been a great success”.

I wish they’d asked me.  I could have provided plenty of models for this piece of art.

Why are you picking on me.png

Why are you picking on me.  Google, eat your heart out cause I took this one!

Don’t hesitate to ask me anything about art.  Or poop.

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This Really Gets My Goat

Do you ever want to pack it all in?  Shed these mortal coils?  Have an out of body experience?  Do you get so bored that you fantasize foreign travel, hanging out with a group of friends who won’t pester you with questions, eating a steady diet of fresh picked food, and drinking water from a mountain stream?

My inability to do that for a whole host of reasons, well, it really gets my goat.

But I think I can honestly say that when I consider having out of body experiences, when I think of packing it in, and when I contemplate shedding these mortal coils, I can’t even approach, neigh, fathom what Thomas Thwaite did.

Part of me sees the attraction.  After all, remember, I spent five years living in Switzerland.  And when you climb those mountains, your heart and soul expand.  You have what I dubbed Julie Andrews Moments where you want to sing with joy.  I can honestly say that I’d love to go back and spend some time there in those mountains.

But there are limits to how I’d like to go.  With whom I’d like to spend time.  And what I would like to wear when I get there.

For example, I do not want to imitate Thomas Thwaites.  He became a goat hung out on a mountainside.  With a herd of goats.  Eating grass.

There’s an article in the Washington Post about Thomas the Goat Man.  How he developed a prosthesis that enabled him to walk like a goat.  The challenges he faced.  The cold.  How he felt that human kind was progressing towards robotics, and he wanted to go a different way.  So he became a goat.

This video, read by a robo-caller, tells the rest of the story.  You can watch it and hear the story for yourself.  Or you can mute it, and watch a man in weird costume eat grass.  Your choice.

 

I can’t help wondering if the little goats used to laugh and call him names.  Did they let poor Thomas play in any goatherd games?

 

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