Ass Flowers

The following post was originally posted at Killer Rants blogger version on Tuesday, May 02, 2006.

Artistically posted by Killer

I spent this past weekend in Oxford, MS., at the Double Decker Art Festival. It was a grand old time. My best friend is an artist and has a booth there on occasion, so I come to town to help pimp his work. The problem with art festivals is that you only get a few actual art buyers, but a whole lot of art lookers. It is the art work that brings in the people, but it is the crappy crafts that get purchased. By crappy crafts I mean when a person paints a flower on a small mirror and then glues some fuzz around the edges and sells it for five dollars, etc. The crappy craft folk end up making a lot of money by selling hundreds of trinkets to the local yokels. I don’t really begrudge them this fact, it just irritates me because I can’t bring myself to buy a bunch of crocs sandals ($35 a pair), paint some pretty flowers on them and then resell them ($45 a pair). This was another crappy craft item available.
Are people who paint pretty flowers on crocs or mirrors any less of artists than those painting pictures or making pottery? Maybe my view of art is skewed. I tend to appreciate art that I could not create myself. I could paint pretty flowers on random objects, I just don’t have the drive to do so. Maybe my problem is not with crappy craft makers, but with myself, subconsciously. Perhaps I am angry at myself on some deeper level for not getting my ass in gear and painting more pretty flowers on objects. I could support myself by flowering found items and not have to support myself by wiping people’s ass. I am going to start immediately.
Here are some items that I have decided to flower.

This first item is a CD. It cost me about 80 cents, and I could sell it for 10 dollars, huge profit potential.

image

This next item is a tortilla that was in my fridge. It was probably too old to actually eat, which makes it’s cost even lower. Cost about 25 cents, and I could sell it for 10 dollars. Even bigger profit potential.

image

This last item is harder to figure out the market potential. It is my own ass. I was born with it, so it cost nothing. The only problem is I guess I could only sell it once. Maybe I can use it as a performance piece and have people pay just to look at it.

image

The art work is more rudimentary here because it is actually very hard to draw flowers on your own ass. I suggest trying it sometime. I will point out however, “permanent marker” does not wash off. I will keep you informed on how long it takes to wear off.
I hope to see you at the next art festival. Just look for my ass.

THEN and NOW

The following post was originally posted at Killer Rants blogger version on Wednesday, June 14, 2006.

Liz compares:

I was recently told by a work friend that, although an attractive woman, I am no supermodel. Where did that statement come from? I would venture to guess directly out of his hairy ass, but that would be presumptuous. I felt violated by the statement; I wasn’t asking for his assessment, he just laid it out there, unprovoked. I found it strange and meaningless but it’s stuck with me for 8 nights now. I’ve broken it down to mean these things:

* You’re not hideous, but don’t go without makeup
If you’d lose 30 pounds, I might be interested
You’re pretty enough… for someone who’s not really into looks
You’ll find a good mate, but don’t be surprised when he dumps you for a hot chic
Your genes should die with you when you go

He was telling me about his request to his wife for a divorce. As he spoke on this intensely personal subject, I heard one theme: I loved her as a girlfriend, hate her as a spouse. This got me thinking: is what makes a good girlfriend the same qualities you seek in a wife? Let’s break THIS down:

* GOOD GIRLFRIEND: Flirty and fun, all your guy friends love her
* GOOD WIFE: Hardly speaks to your friends, stays home, doesn’t flirt at all
* GOOD GIRLFRIEND: Wears sexy clothes and shows off her body
* GOOD WIFE: Owns granny panties; multiple turtlenecks
* GOOD GIRLFRIEND: Can out drink half the guys you know
* GOOD WIFE: Takes sips from your beer when she brings you a fresh one
* GOOD GIRLFRIEND: Plans fun weekends for the two of you
* GOOD WIFE: Doesn’t want to go anywhere
* GOOD GIRLFRIEND: Loves any present you give her- almost a guarantee you’ll get laid
* GOOD WIFE: Quit expecting presents years ago
* GOOD GIRLFRIEND: Too busy being with you to keep the house clean
* GOOD WIFE: Scrubs your pee off the toilet seat without complaining

I don’t get it. One day I’ll make a list of what makes a good boyfriend. I still have no idea what makes a good husband… but I know that telling you that you’re no supermodel won’t make the list.

Happiness is Only a Six Pack Away

The following post was originally posted at Killer Rants blogger version on Wednesday, April 05, 2006.

Slurred incoherently by Killer

I have decided to write a motivational book. I might call it, “Chicken soup for the chicken soup hating soul”. I really despise self help/motivational books. If you have enough motivation to get up out of bed, drive all the way to the bookstore, search out the self help/motivational book section, find the one that best fits your pathetic life, and take it up to the counter to buy it, STOP, don’t buy the book. You just proved to yourself just how motivated you actually are, good job, now go take a nap.
If, on the other hand, some well intending family member or “friend” gives you a motivational book, use that book and hit them in the eyeball. They have decided to make you aware of how pathetic your life looks to the outside world. You don’t need friends like that. As a matter of fact, they are probably the cause of your troubles to begin with.
The real name of my motivational book is, “Drink Yourself to a Better You”. It is a warm and inspirational piece encouraging people to find happiness in the bottom of a bottle. Don’t waste your time seeking psychiatric help. According to research performed by top Scientology officials and Tom Cruise, all psychiatry is a farce. Tom Cruise would not lie to you. He is a movie star, and if it is one thing our society has shown, movie stars are better people than you. Instead of throwing thousands of dollars and hours of you life away with a shrink, just meander on down to the local liquor store and pick up a six pack of beer, or as I like to call it, “twelve ounces of happy, with five of his happy pals.”
Drinking not only makes your spouse/significant other/that stranger next to you in bed look better, it also makes you look better. Drink six beers and strip naked in front of a mirror. Suddenly all those superficial flaws are gone and the only thing left is pure sexy. Hell, drink a few more and go run around the neighborhood naked. You are looking so good right now it would be a shame not to share it with everyone.
Drinking can also quiet those nagging fears and insecurities. If you have been feeling inadequate at work lately just start ending the day with a few heavy drinks. Before long you will no longer worry about the small things at your job like, doing those reports due Friday, wearing clean pants , or even showing up at all. Maybe you are concerned about your boss’ evaluation of your performance, well do some shots and call him at home and give him an evaluation of how you think he is doing. I’m sure he will be impressed by your straight forward, no nonsense approach. He might even manage to free up some time so you can spend a LOT more time drinking.
Drinking also helps quiet the voices in your head. Many times I will be sitting around the house and I will hear the voices telling me to put on my girl scout costume, shave my head bald and walk around poking people in the butt with a pickle fork. Luckily for me, I keep beer on hand at all times. The first few beers and they starting talking louder and get angrier, but don’t give up. After the ninth or tenth beer and a few shots of grain alcohol, the voices are down to a dull roar. When this happens to you, just follow my example and bottoms up. Believe me, people get pretty pissed when they are jabbed in the buttocks with a pickle fork.
This is just a sampling of the wisdom I will espouse upon you. Just wait until the book comes out. I am just going to have a few more drinks and get back to work.

Thongs are Not for the Faint of Heart

The following post was originally posted at Killer Rants blogger version on Saturday, March 04, 2006.

Liz writes:

I suffer from Romantic Delay. I don’t think this is a medical condition, for it’s not the female equivilent of the oft advertised erectile disfunction- it’s more a total immaturity for the need for a companion of the opposite sex. Had I lived 100 years ago, I would be long washed up and hopeless. My father would be in a constant state of depression knowing his daughter’s only hope for a better life was a 62 year old widower with cows that need milking. I’d be stuck teaching school in a one room school house and not showing my knees in public. And if I were the same spirit then that I am now, I would be ok with this.

What’s wrong with me? What about that internal drive to couple? The Discovery Channel is always saying that this is why we exist- to procreate. The desire to find a mate overrides everything else. Where’s my share of that? I’ve never gone out on a date with someone I wasn’t interested in. Ok, except in 6th grade when I “went with” a guy named Terrel for one day. I hated it. I figured then that if you don’t get the right vibe, you shouldn’t waste anybody’s time. Screw a free dinner. I want to play fair.

Needless to say, I don’t get out much.

But I’m getting there. I’m reaching the point where I think it would be NICE to have a man in my life. Hell, I’m middle aged. It’s about time I felt some internal pressure to have a reliable booty call in my life. The urge to use terms like, “my boyfriend” is beginning to surface. I’ve even bought pretty bras- just in case they get to peek out one night. But I lack the experience of playing the game. I don’t know HOW to be coy or seductive with the intent of luring. I don’t understand the rules of a relationship. I ask too many questions and have expectations that don’t match the game that’s in play. It is what it is… I missed the practices and now I’m coming up with my own rules. “FOUL!” “Interferrence!” “False Start!” It’s hard to START playing at 34.

Last night I was susposed to go out for drinks with a work guy. He’s single and I’ve been after him for MONTHS to go out for cocktails. I don’t consider this a romantic match, but I figure he’s single, I’m single- we might as well be drinking buddies. Everyone that works for him likes me and his boss loves me. This guy, however, has seemed immune to my charms. That bastard.

Because my ass continues to get wider with each passing second, my jeans were SKIN tight last night- so I put on a thong. I don’t even know how I ended up with a thong because some things don’t go together: Peanut butter and white fish, beer and birthday cake, Liz and a thong. But I had one on. He never called… I’m not used to this rudeness, so I went up to Chilli’s and got a couple of two-for-ones and then rented Crash and went home. I was feeling a little befuddled. WHY didn’t he let me know something? Is he trying to say without saying that he doesn’t want to spend time with me? I will admit, I’ve basically demanded that he commit to a couple of cold ones with me. Has my forcefullness scared him into thinking I’m after his sausage? I know he’s not romantically interested- I’m rather neutral about him- which means, in essence, that I feel the same way. But to not get back with me- to not call and say that he wouldn’t make it- to simply stand me up when he knows that I had a plan C to go out with some other folks- that’s just ugly. And it’s an unpleasant feeling to be unwanted.

So I’ve got 4 two-for-ones in me and I go into the bathroom at home for a pee before starting Crash and one of my cats comes into the bathroom. You know how cats love string! Sneaker went CRAZY over this thong. He was totally enthralled- pulling at it, rolling around on the rug trying to stretch it out, pawing at it and trying to get entangled in the tiny red thread… it was funny. And depressing. I feel like an idoit when I have on a thong and I look like a tube of cinnamon rolls that has just exploded. And there I was, good makeup and hair, sitting on the toliet with my cat trying his damnedst to get that thong off of me.

Yep. I think I DO need a man.

That Beavers Breath Smells Like Shit

The following post was originally posted at Killer Rants blogger version on Monday, February 27, 2006.

Posted by Killer
My single most favorite fact obtained from The Discovery Channel is that beavers eat their own shit. They eat it only once, and they know the difference. A beaver’s diet of wood can be broken down into a nutrient only after passing the section of bowel that is needed to digest said nutrient. So, when a beaver squeezes out a fresh lumber filled poop, he (or apparently a faster, sneakier beaver) will eat the newly made log. The excrement created by eating this is not edible. I imagine this has led to some pretty embarrassing moments for less intelligent beavers, “Oh my God, Jimmy just ate some second shit!” I was enthralling some coworkers this evening with my knowledge of fecal eating beavers when a doctor told me that some Native Americans would have what they referred to as “the second harvest”. This involved picking the corn out of their stool to enjoy it a second time. I personally can not verify this from first hand basis (nor from a televised documentary), but I feel this doctor is pretty reliable. When elderly people sit around trying to impress each other with how much harder it used to be in the old days, I bet, “I had to walk ten miles to school in the snow”, can not hold a candle to, “I had to pick the corn out of my shit for dinner.”
The discussion quickly spiraled down to the fact that some people feel that drinking your own urine has medicinal, as well as, spiritual value. I have actually had a patient, while working in Baltimore, who practiced this belief. She said that many valuable electrolytes are lost in urine. After years of working in the health profession I can safely say that drinking Gatorade also will replace vital electrolytes. NASA has a plan to send a manned mission to Mars within twenty years. It will cost a few hundred billion dollars and the best idea so far for the water supply is to have them drink urine. It will be boiled, then the condensation will be collected, filtered and returned for consumption. I am secretly hoping that they need someone to just go along in order to provide extra urine for the trip. I feel that is the only way I can ever offer anything of value to the space program. Plus, with a captive audience in space for 18 months I will have plenty of time to regale upon them all my knowledge of shit eating beavers.

Previous Page  
 

Recent Comments

Subscribe to Killer Rants

Enter your email address:

Delivered by FeedBurner



Add to Technorati Favorites

Archives