Maybe I Just Have a Hole in My Lip

Have you ever had the feeling that any minute now, love will find a way? That the answer is just blowing in the wind? That bananas will remain yellow for more than 28 hours in the fruit bowl on the kitchen counter after you’ve brought them home from the grocery store? Yeah, me neither.

You would think that after forty-some-odd years, I would acknowledge my drinking problem and stop wearing white clothes out to dinner. Upon my second sip of some Pinot Noir at Roxy the other night, I gave up trying to taste the wine, and decided it was far more important to wear it.

Mr. MudPuppy is a Stain Master, like 8th degree or something. And when we got home, he couldn’t get my shirt off fast enough for some serious tackling. Yes, we’re still talking about the stain.

Anyway, after Shouting and bleaching and whatever other ancient Chinese secrets (remember THAT commercial?) he had up his sleeve, it was time for the reveal.

Mr. MudPuppy kicks laundry ass.

And he’s all mine.

So you can’t have any.

As you may or may not recall (or care), I was one of the dubious judges in the IMMHB Scary Food Contest. You can find out who won by going to I Hate My Message Board’s Contest Winners Announcement, but I’ll give you a hint: It has to do with things in cans that don’t belong there.

I would also like to announce my overweaning pride over being the #1 Google search result for the phrase “buddha sex with skulls“. I can’t begin to tell you what joy that brings to me.