Thursday, December 27, 2007

Breasts, Google, and Me

People google the darnedest things! I was checking my sitemeter and nearly a dozen people came to my site after googling "Nancy Pelosi-breast size." Huh? I've also had a number of visitor's who googled "Jessica Simpson-breast size." And of course, my new personal favorite googled phrase "pudding covered boobs." Now then. On this blog, I have mentioned my fear of La Pelosi, my love/hate/shame thing for Ms. Simpson, and breasts have been discussed on a number of occasions, but never, not once, has anyone mentioned covering breasts in pudding!

Freaks. The world would appear to be full of them...

Tuesday, July 3, 2007

Why you suck at guitar?

Suckamaniacs! Uncle Ben Eller here is back with a fresh out of the box new portion of This Is The reason You Suck at Guitar! I get many messages and clairvoyant dream messages each week from fans everywhere throughout the world who are in a ton of hurt from attempting to change tunings and string gages on their Floyd Rose/Ibanez Edge/Lo Professional Edge tremolos... What's more, I can't point the finger at them! I recollect the primary drifting extension guitar I ever upset, it was my sibling's Ibanez EX Arrangement...


The high strings were WAY sharp, then when I tuned them down, the low strings had hopped up to standard pitch once more... what a bad dream. I really sold my spirit to the fiend with a specific end goal to at long last get the tuning changed over... kid do I ever lament that move now! It was years after the fact that I unearthed this great trap for changing the tuning on a guitar for beginners. I'm going to spare you a Great deal of time and dissatisfaction, also your godlike soul. You just may require that later.

You simply require a couple straightforward apparatuses and some learning of the insane teeter-totter like impact that your strings and springs have. You'll find out about obstructing your extension (from both sides!), altering the paw screw strain, the acclaimed Whoopi Goldberg, and the delayed consequences of disturbing your tuning and string gage. It's all super quick and simple once you take in the fundamental standards of how. It's all reversible, it doesn't hurt anything, and on the off chance that you take after my strides, you'll have awesome achievement. Huzzah!

Much obliged such a great amount for watching, let me know how it goes for you! Here's to you!


Sunday, June 17, 2007

Age (In)Appropriate

Here's the thing-we all age. Some of us just seem to do it better than others. I've decided that part of the trick is to know when to pack it, or at least reign it in a little. Some helpful suggestions...

(1) If you remember wearing a trendy item years ago, like maybe when you were in high school, you should not be wearing it now. For example, if you went to high school in the 80s, you should leave the leggings there, where they belong.

(2) Unless you're a teenager, you should not be wearing your hair in pigtails. The ponytail will always be your friend, but leave the pigtails in childhood, where they belong.

(3) If your breasts are bigger than a high, perky, B-cup, you should absolutely not be wearing a tube-top. And if your nipples are pointed South, toward the ground, you should not leave the house without a good bra. Your breasts and nipples should always be centered and high, where they belong.

Friday, June 15, 2007

If It Looks Bad Now...

I am a huge fan of the Die Hard movie series and was cautiously excited when I read that there was going to be a Die Hard 4. The excitement I felt was tempered by concern about Bruce Willis' age-I'm just not sure I could "buy" a 50+ year old action hero. Nevertheless, I had planned to see the movie as soon as it opened. And then I began seeing the commercials for Live Free, Die Hard. They suck. The point of a commercial is to generate interest in the product being advertised, to tease the consumer into shelling out his or her money for that product. There have been many times when I've gone to see a movie based on the trailer, and then discovered that the only good scenes in the entire movie were the ones featured in the ad. I think this is probably a common occurrence.

Now then. I know I should be grateful that the commercials make it obvious that this movie is a dud, but I'm not. I was looking forward to a good, summer action-movie. One that didn't involve seeing grown men dressed in silly costumes-I mean how gay does Superman look in his tights and cape?!

Monday, June 4, 2007

It Must Be Love

I am committment phobic in a BIG way. Hey You has been using the "m"* word in a BIG way lately. And I'm not afraid. A little nervous maybe, but not afraid. After much analysis, I've concluded that there are only two possibile explanations:

(1) At some point recently, aliens sucked out part of my brain as I slept.

(2) I'm in love.



*"m" word meaning marriage. To each other.

Saturday, June 2, 2007

The Best Good Deed Ever!

Last November, I donated a basket of food to a needy woman and her husband. He's undergoing dialyses and his diet is restricted. The foods recommended by his doctor were too expensive and they couldn't afford them-they're on a very limited budget. When I heard that, I began buying them a bag of groceries every week. It made me feel very happy to do it. I would drop the items off on Friday and I swear I had warm and fuzzy feelings for days afterward. In March, they informed me that they'd been able to sell a piece of property and said that they were grateful for everything, but no longer needed the help. The conversation felt a little brusque and I was worried that by trying to help them, I had offended them. I guilt quite easily...

Anyway, yesterday my mom ran into the woman and she stopped my mom to tell her how grateful she was and said that they wouldn't have made it through the winter without my help. I think that sounds a little dramatic, but still... I made a difference! I'm quite giddy and feel like I need another "project".

Sunday, May 27, 2007

"Sweetie, if I confess something to you, will you promise to not freak out?"

A blogger whom I read regularly has speculated about why women who are Democrats seem more likely to marry men who are Republicans-I believe this phenomena is based on his own observation and not any sort of scentific study. Anyway, I think I may have figured out why this happens...or least part of why this happens.

In my long and not so varied dating "career" I have exclusively dated conservative Christian, Republicans. This hasn't necessarily been a conscious thing on my part. Hey You is my very first liberal and all I can say about that is "ay-yi-yi." On a terrifying regular basis, conversations begin with the words no woman wants to hear, "Sweetie, if I confess something, will you promise to not freak out?" This is a totally unfair request! I cannot know how I will react until I actually know what he's confessing to having done! Nevertheless, each time he makes this request, I smile tentatively, bat my Bambi eyelashes (courtesy of L'Oreal's Lash Architect) and bravely say, "Of course...You can tell me anything." (One of these days that's going to totally bite me on the ass!)

This afternoon we're discussing this and that-vasectomies and breasts to be precise, and Hey You decides he has yet another confession to make. This one involving having had a (brief) dalliance with a porn star. We watched a movie last week, and in one scene, a movie was being shown in the background that featured this woman, but he valiantly restrained himself from shouting out, "Wow, been there, done that." Hey You was raised by open, liberal parents, who have encouraged him to be open about sex. I, on the other hand, was raised in Indiana. I have no problem with Hey You's past and from time to time these confessions amuse me...but seriously, would it kill him to preserve the mystery just a little bit?!

I'm not sure if these sort of confessions are normal for liberals, but I do know that I never experienced anything of the sort with my conservative boyfriends. Maybe that's why (some) Democratic women like Republican men...if they do anything even remotely freaky, they keep it a secret and deny it to the grave, making themselves men of sexual mystery.