Arrested Development. And the Bulk Candy Aisle.

For some strange reason, I always think that the B-Holes of society grow out of life's phases right along with me. I'm repeatedly surprised to hear that children still bully each other, as if I thought the notion were reserved for the 1970s. Shouldn't bullying be considered cliche by now?

I mean, where are juvenile delinquents' sense of fashion and pop culture when it comes to bad behavior, I ask you. And it's not just bullying. Why just last week, I was having this one-sided conversation with my husband, Grimfeld (he won't let me print what he said):

Me: You mean people are still killing each other? But that's soooo ten years ago.

Me: Gangs? They still have gangs? Are you kidding me? I thought we took care of all that with No Child Left Behind, and every kid gets a trophy for every little thing, and T-Ball and haven't people grown up?

Me: Well, those are just people on the news. I don't associate myself with those kinds of people. My circle of people are past that kid's stuff.

Me: What? Aunt Wilma and Uncle Piebald are still fighting? What on earth after all these years could they be possibly fighting about? Aren't they in their fifties? And Uncle Chester is still living with his mother? Isn't he sixty-something? And divorced four times?

Me: Well I don't live with those people, so that doesn't really count. It's not like I had anything to do with raising them or anything.

Me: What? Francine smokes pot? Our Francine? Our little Francine? Do they still even make pot? I thought that was something people did a long time ago. I thought humanity in general was over that by now.

Me: Well, at least it's not me. At least I've grown-up. I have responsibilities. You don't see me living with my parents. Or acting like an idiot, shoplifting or what-have-you.

Me: What? That's not shoplifting. The grocery store writes that stuff off anyway. If they don't want anybody eating it, they should just package it instead of selling it as bulk. It's not like they have signs around saying, "Please do not eat the malted milk balls", do they?

Me: What? It is not illegal if I open it. If they are going to put it in my mailbox, it's mine to open. I can say I wasn't paying attention, I thought it was for me. So what if it's their bank statements, I can tell them I never actually LOOKED at them.

Me: I am NOT a liar! You're the liar.

Me: I know you are but what am I?


See what I mean? Even Grimfeld got all childish on me! When will people just grow up already? Sheesh!



(P.S. Yes, people this is fiction. Who has a husband named Grimfeld?)

Free Wink: Hostage Crisis Update

At press time, Wink's lawyers are negotiating with the hostage takers shelter's lawyers for Wink's release. Wink's owner appreciates all of your support during this difficult time. Let's hope Wink comes home soon.

(Wink's Hostage Story)

Employment is For the Birds

Unemployment is high enough already that we don't need people out there exacerbating the issue by hiring animals to do the work. And I don't want to hear anybody trying to correct me by saying, "Oh, we use the term 'human-challenged'".

Have you heard about the new reality show called Aviarian Idol?

They only hire birds for the show. The contestants are birds. The judges are birds. The show's crew are birds. I walked onto their set last Tuesday to apply for a job and witnessed this feathered buffoonery:




It's discrimination and I intend to start a cause called "WTF: Whack The Fowls".

This whole bird thing has been an ongoing problem for decades, people. DECADES! Or do I need to refresh your memory by mentioning, Donald Duck, Daffy Duck and Foghorn Leghorn - All corporate lackeys stealing jobs from hard-working humans like you and me.

And it doesn't stop with the current worming into Reality Shows. There are plans for a new spinoff of a popular franchise: Law and Order: Quackdown.

By the way, I'll also be protesting Twitter, for obvious reasons. Except for when I grab my virtual private parts and type "Tweet this, pal!"

Goat Thing of the Day

Pamela at My Thoughts Exactly is traveling in Texas Hill Country this week, where she came upon these curious cuties:

Thank You Letters...

Today's Thank You letter goes out to La Belette Rouge for mentioning Nanny Goats in Panties in her post entitled K-Line Q and A the other day.

A Post About Nothing

Your phone rings. Caller ID says it's Umbert. You think, Jeez, that's the third time he's called today. Ugh, better answer it.

You: Hello?

Umbert: Hey, whatcha doin'?

You: Nothing.

Umbert: ...

You: You?

Umbert: Oh, nothing.

And that's why you never answer the phone when Umbert calls. I mean, he's a nice guy and all, but he doesn't add anything to your existence. In fact, he can really suck the life out of a conversation.


Or how about when you're walking down the hall at the office and Stan from Marketing says, "Hello, how are you?"

You: Fine. You?

Stan: Fine.

And that's it. Stan looks like he wants to say more, but can't think of anything, so you keep walking because you don't want to get stuck in a meaningless conversation and you've got way more important things on your mind. Like how you have to go to the grocery store to get some cheese because you're sick of tacos without cheese for dinner. And how you have to get proper cat food for Xavier because he's probably sick of cheeseless tacos as well.

An hour later when you're getting your fourth cup of coffee, you pass Stan from Marketing again and he says, "Hey, how are you?"

You: Fine.

And you already asked him how he was doing before, so why should you ask him again?

You decree right then and there that coworkers should only say hello once. After that you should just half-smile past each other in silence the rest of the day.

Another hour later, you have to pee so bad you walk briskly to the little girls room and that's when Stan from Marketing says, "Hey, what's the status on the Smith-Johnson report?" and there's no short answer. Do you say, "Look man, I gotta pee." or do you squirm while delivering a quick summary of the damn Smith-Johnson report? Sure, it's your fault for waiting so long, but you were on an endless conference call, and you set the phone down on your desk, thinking you could sneak down the hall and get back before anyone could notice.

And now here's Stan the Office Obstacle.


You think you maybe need different people in your life. (♪ Peoplllll... people who need peoplllllll...♪)

You go to a social network event to meet some of these so-called people. And the whole time you ask yourself if you really need more people in your life.

Don't you have enough people already? Aren't you sick of people? You're always saying you're not a people person, so what are you doing hanging around talking about the weather and the economy and March Madness with these people for?

You come home exhausted and swear off people from now on. You go to work the next day and nobody says hello. They avert their eyes when they swish past you in the hallway. Your phone doesn't ring all morning and the Smith-Johnson report is done, so you have nothing to do right now. The company doesn't allow personal internet surfing, so you twiddle your thumbs until lunch. No one seems to be around to go to lunch with so you walk to the roach coach and get a greasy taco (with extra cheese, because you forgot to get cheese while you were at the dang grocery store the night before) and eat it alone at your desk.

Your phone rings after lunch. It's your boss, Mr. Peabody, calling you into his office.

He never calls you into his office.

As you approach his door, you notice the blinds in the window are closed. You brace yourself for "the talk". How times are tight and there's nothing he can do and good luck. You figure out that that's why nobody would talk to you today. Because they knew.

You knock.

Nothing.

You knock again.

Mr. Peabody:  Come in.

You:  {gulp}

You open the door and the entire office yells "SURPRISE!". They present you with your favorite birthday cake: chocolate.  Everyone pitched in and gives you presents including a gift certificate to your favorite restaurant: Pedro's Taco Emporium and Cheese House. While everyone is munching on cake, you find out that Violet who only sits two cubicles away loves all the same Hitchcock and Scorsese movies you do.

Stan from Marketing says, "I've been busting all day! I couldn't even talk to you - I was so afraid of blowing the surprise." 

You discover that Stan was in the Peace Corp, that he saved the lives of many children.

You never knew Carmen was so funny and she wants to be a writer someday, just like you.

Mr. Peabody asks you to stick around while everyone else leaves his office. He tells you that the Smith-Johnson report was outstanding and that he's giving you a raise. He also offers you a promotion to their satellite office where you would have the whole office to yourself since everyone else there is constantly traveling.

You look at the pile of chocolate crumbs that used to be the cake and the splayed presents. You see the gorgeous view from Mr. Peabody's office of the harbor and the blue ocean behind it.  You recall that last joke Carmen made that had you both in hysterics.

Mr. Peabody: What's wrong?

You: Nothing.

Mr. Peabody: Are you okay?

You: I'm fine....You?

What NOT To Do on Maui

Five days into our Maui vacation and we were bored out of our minds. Bored, bored, bored. I mean you can only see so many whales, sunsets, waterfalls, and volcanos (YAWN! Am I right?). So we decided to go off the beaten path. There’s this place we found called Aloha Joe’s Fly-By-Night Maui Vacation and Island Adventure Tours, Inc. And based on several packages we embarked on, I can now safely tell you what NOT to do on a Maui vacation.

Harpoon Lessons

This is an exhausting all day tour with no lunch breaks. Lessons in the morning, immediately followed by a sun-burning, sea-sickening whale hunt. Also, they yell at you if you accidentally stab a dolphin. Sheesh! What do they expect from beginners? Plus, my dad can’t see very well anyway. We won’t be doing this tour again.

Playing With Feral Cats

For $29.00 they only give you one bag of live rats and one hour in a pen of feral cats. At least they let you pet them. I would have taken pictures, but the cute little kitties ate my right hand. Which is the one I use to take photos.

Helicopter Diving

This is the one you’ve probably heard about where you dive out of a helicopter into the Haleakala Crater. At night. You don’t get a parachute or anything, but at least this time, they send you down with a bag lunch.

Baby Seal Clubbing

Sorry. We thought this was going to be a nightclub. With dancing or something. With baby seals. It sounded so magical in the brochure.

A Taste of Hawaii

An all-you-can-eat-buffet of poi. That’s it, just poi. Oh, and Mai Tais. Each table is supplied with barf bags. Thank God.


Being the nonconfrontational person that I am, I meekly tried to complain to the tourist company, but they blustered back at me about how you can’t please some people and what snobby haoles we were. Needless to say, we’re pretty much done with Maui.

After two weeks of daily messages to my travel agent, she finally called back and set us up for another vacation. Next stop: Columbia. She says the country is beautiful, but it’s the people that really take you away.

Goat Thing of the Day

If you're ever at the Kula Lodge on Maui, consider ordering the Billy Goat Float...

 

And did I mention the Surfing Goat Dairy?

 

I did?

Oh. Never mind, then.

Laid-Off Lady Liberty Considers New Line of Work

I have this friend who works in the New York Harbor. Well, she used to work in the New York Harbor. But last week, like so many of us in the last year, she got a pink slip from the boss. And when the Statue of Liberty loses her job, this country MUST be having money problems.

They’ll bail out the banks and the auto companies, but do you think they could find it in their patriotic hearts to throw a few bones to Penelope? After all she’s done for this country? Not to mention that she never once called in sick. You’d think that would stand for something!

Poor Penelope doesn’t qualify for unemployment either (not the right blood type – whatever!), so she has to hunt for a new job right away. I mean, she’s a single mom with 350 million mouths to feed: her tired, poor and huddled masses.

Last month, when she was caught by TMZ.com paparazzi while standing in a bread line, her towering image was splashed all over the nation’s headlines. She hung her head in shame and stayed home all day, watching soap operas and nearly starving to death.

“C’mon, Penny”, I wrote on her Facebook wall, “You need the California sunshine to pull you out of your funk. I bet you’ll get scooped up in no time out here. If nothing else, you’re hot, you have big boobs and you’re an SILF, and that counts for a lot in this state.”

“What’s an SILF?” she asked.

Sometimes I think Penny has little acronym-challenged people wandering around inside her head with cameras and maps, constantly pointing at the pretty boats floating by.

“Well, let me just say that ‘S’ stands for ‘statue’ and the rest you’ll have to look up on Wikipedia because I‘ve sworn off swearing.”

So she came out to the Golden State with the clothes on her back and $3.27 to her name. I’m letting her stay with me while she pounds the pavement in search of a job:



After picking her up off the street one day, she seemed dejected. I told her what she needed was a schtick. Something that showed the commuters she wasn’t panhandling, but that she was interested in gainful employment.

She’d had accounting experience in the past, so she ran out and got a sex change (changing her name to Penal Opie) and made a sign:



Unfortunately, that didn’t work either. I asked her about why she felt the sex change was going to help and we got into a chaotic conversation that ended with me screaming: “I said ‘schtick’. SCHTICK!”

Thinking that perhaps northern California wasn’t right for her. I suggested she hit Hollywood and see if she could get some bit parts in movies. They’re always looking for New York characters. She does a great “Fuhggedaboudit!” Plus with the sex change thing, she would find amicable company in West Hollywood.

So the next time you’re sitting in a darkened theatre and a shot of a green copper man donning a toga and spiked hat and holding a torch appears on the screen, you’ll know that Penal Opie has once again achieved the occasionally elusive American Dream.

Nanny Goats Creates Frenzy at L.A. Landmark

Here's what I don't get: You haul your ass down to Hollywood Boulevard in Los Angeles, taking your out-of-town visitors with you, to show off an historic landmark - The Hollywood Sidewalk of Stars, or whatever it's called (don't ask me, I just live here.)

But you're walking...

 

and you're walking...

 

Who ARE these people? They take the 'Fame' out of Walk of Fame! (Oh, yeah...that's the name of this place)

I say that last one was made up! Lurene Tuttle? Really?

Anybody remember that M.A.S.H. episode where they made up a guy named Tuttle? Had everyone convinced the guy existed? Hot Lips thought she was in love with the guy - that they dated!?

Well if this so-called Tuttle can get a star, why can't Nanny Goats get one?

But then I heard that you can BUY these things. So you know what I did?

Yep!




Yeah, you probably caught the frentic paparazzi scene on Showbiz Tonight last week when they unveiled this baby. The Walk of Fame Chairman thanked me for classing up the street with the mere presence of my name. Because EVERYBODY knows who I am, right? Unlike these bozos:

 

 

I can't believe they allow fictional characters. That's right! I'm talking to YOU, Johnny Depp!


So anyway, the next time you're in Los Angeles cruising Hollywood Boulevard, be sure to keep an eye out for my star. Just look for the long line of fans wearing Souvenir Goat Head NGIP Gullible Stalker Chrome Dome Warmers (only $75.00 USD) and waiting for hours just to catch a glimpse of their idol's piece of cement.

Up next, I'll be purchasing a spot on the Senate floor Academy Awards nomination list for best picture: Nanny Goats in Panties Brokeback What You Did Last Summer.

Goat Thing of The Day

Meet Pricilla:

She is the spokesgoat for Happy Goats Soap. She pushes products made from her milk, such as the I Love My Goat Soap.

You can also visit Pricilla at her blog called The Maaaaa of Pricilla.

Wanna Say Something Nice about NGIP?

Hey if you like Nanny Goats in Panties, and if you have a minute, could you jump over to my Humor Bloggers profile and add a complimentary sentence about this blog? The profile link is HERE. No registration required.

A Quick THANK YOU

Thanks to Last Shreds of Sanity for giving me the lemonade award.

The Bigger the Man, the Bigger Their Ego

[Author's Note: due to some confusion by some readers, let me clarify that the story below is just a silly made-up piece of fiction. OK, as you were...]

My boyfriend can stand still for hours. In fact, he's so good at it, he does it for a living. Must have been all those years in the service guarding the sacred pet rabbit at the White House. This was when Eisenhower was in office. Boy, you never hear anything about Eisenhower, do you? No History Channel specials, no conspiracy theories. I'll bet you didn't even know he had a sacred pet rabbit, did you? His name was Bert.

Anyway, my boyfriend. Stanley. His mother claims he loved those little green army guys as a little boy.





Stanley was big for his age and the other kids made fun of him so he stayed home a lot and played alone with his army men.

"He imitated their stealth and stillness for hours," his mother told me.

I met Stanley while he was in the service guarding Bert. I was walking down the White House hall toward the cage where they kept little white Bert, when all of a sudden I saw this huge man standing unbelievably still. He held his army rifle in front of him and stood in front of the cage. His huge square jaw coupled with the discipline of standing at parade rest for hours made me swoon. I begged the First Lady (I forget her name now... well do you know what it is? OK then.) to introduce me.

And we've been together ever since. Well, except for the time he left me for another man. But that didn't last long and I knew it wouldn't. He has too many quirks that drive people batty that I find so endearing.

For example, he has to (HAS TO) watch at least one Clark Gable movie every day. I'm not sure why, or how it started, but I do remember he started growing that Gable moustache of his and hasn't let it go. He was so stubborn about keeping it that the army sort of discharged him over it.

Years went by before he found work again. I think he's too old to be standing outside in the elements, stiff as a board, but he was so proud of his work in the White House that he still pretends he's a little green army guy holding a rifle guarding that rabbit:

I'll always look up to him and put him on a pedestal. And I will continue to support him in whatever he does. People still make fun of his size, but I will defend him until the day I die. He has shown me nothing but kindness and love. And extremely large jewelry. Speaking of which, last weekend while we were visiting our winter cabin in BigAss Redwood Park, he proposed! I can't lift the rock he gave me let alone have it set for an actual ring, but it's the thought that counts, right?

Mamie! That was her name. Mamie Eisenhower.

Oh, I gotta run. I need to go grab the flatbed truck to pick up my big boy from work. But first I gotta stop off at Walmart. The Complete Clark Gable Forty-Seven Disc Box Set on Blu-ray comes out today. It'll make a great stocking stuffer!

I May Be Unemployed, But I've Got Big Plans

Welcome to my first week of unemployment! After being wait-listed for eleven long months, the repairman finally came by to fix my Wayback and Forward Time Traveler 6000. Some jerk stepped on a butterfly last year and everyone's time machine went on the fritz. Why is there always one guy who has to blow it for everybody?

Anyway, I jumped in for a quick ride into the future to check my diary. I wanted to know how my life of unemployment would go.  Here are the first few entries:


November 17, 2008: Woo Hoo! Don't have to go to work today. Suddenly, I love Mondays. OMG, now I can do everything I never had the time for: go to the gym, work on my novel, learn Spanish, learn the piano, see my friends, read all my books...I can't wait! I'm just so excited at the thought of getting everything done while everyone else is at work! Did I mention that I love Mondays now?

November 23, 2008: After blogging yesterday, I got all caught up in an internet surfstorm, which pretty much blew the day away, so I didn't make it to the gym. I don't like going after 4pm, when it's crowded, but I'll get there eventually. It's just a matter of scheduling. Plus, I still have to find my membership card. Found a Netflix movie underneath a pile of bills, though. I forgot all about Netflix. So I watched a movie and ordered a pizza. Have you ever had the stuffed cinnamon cream cheese rolls they have at Big Fat Pizza Guys? OMG, they're to die for!

November 28, 2008: Yesterday was Thanksgiving. All that family time kind of got in the way of my movie watching. Finished all the Thanksgiving leftovers by lunch, so now in quandry as to dinner. You know, I'm really enjoying this Netflix thing. I spent all day today adding movies to my queue and watching the ones I had at home. I figure if I want to be a writer, I need to get a real sense of story and watch lots of movies. So I upgraded my membership to "5 out at a time". I got to practice some Spanish today when I ordered from the Taco Bell Drive-Thru.

December 5, 2008: Cancelled gym membership. It's too expensive for someone who doesn't have a job. I'll just walk or something. Netflix is taking longer to turn around my movies, so I upped it to "8 out at a time". Also, I've got hulu.com for while I wait. Did you know they have practically ALL the 1970s TV shows?My unemployment checks are finally getting processed. The only thing is, I have to go in to their office every Monday to pick up my check and answer some questions. Whatever. As long as I get my money.

December 10, 2008: Sat at the piano today, but couldn't hear what Whoopi was saying on The View, so I'll practice later. Man, it's amazing how you can get lost in a sea of movie choices on Netflix. I was just checking to see if they had Police Academy 12 and all of a sudden, they're all: "If you liked all 47 seasons of The Simpsons, you might like..." and then you're doing nothing but adding movies to your queue all day. Thinking about upping my membership to "10 out at a time". Do you know how hard it is for me to work on my novel while watching Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure? No matter how many times I've seen it?


December 15, 2008: Looked at my pile of books today and couldn't decide which one to start. They're all so long!!! So I watched a CSI: Miami marathon while playing on Twitter. Ran out of cheese puffs. Discovered the wonder of grocery store delivery. This last Monday, Tamika, the chick at the unemployment office asked if I had looked for work in the last week. Was she kidding? I told her I was on vacation, lady, I need some time off! She said that wasn't the right answer. What does she know?

December 20, 2008: Tried to go out for a walk today, but it was way too cold for my very first day of working out. I need to be comfortable if I'm to have any incentive to exercise at all. Didn't feel like facing the mall crowds for Christmas shopping, so I bought everything online and had it shipped to everybody. I'm thinking I'll just stay home and catch up on my Netflix movies instead of going to Christmas family stuff. I don't really have anything that fits anyway and Aunt Sally is such a prude about dressing up for dinner. I mean, it's not like I have a job and can go running out to buy a new outfit every time I put on another 20 pounds.

December 24, 2008: Did you know that the maximum number of movies you can have in your Netflix queue is 500? What kind of crap is that when there are over 70,000 titles to choose from? Had to upgrade membership to "15 out at a time", just so I wouldn't keep bumping up against the 500 maximum. Plus, I can get through them really fast now. I bought another TV to put right next to the other one, so I could watch two movies at a time. While I was waiting patiently for the mailman today (I tend to pace on the front porch until he shows up), I saw him drive by and slow down just enough to chuck my movies out his window onto my driveway. What the hell is his problem?

December 31, 2008: I've given up trying to squeeze into my sweatpants. OK, they ripped. I've fashioned a house coat out of the red satin bed sheets I got from cousin Velma twenty years ago during her "sanguine" days. Mailman left a note yesterday saying I would have to go to the post office to pick up my mail. Resorted to Netflix's Intant Watch feature, which streams movies right to my computer. I may have to buy another computer so I can still Twitter while watching my movies. On Monday, Tamika, the chick at the unemployment office, said that my house coat would not be appropriate for a job interview. I said, well then, it's a good thing I don't plan to go on any job interviews. I don't think she understands my level of commitment to get through my Netflix queue. GAWD, I hate Mondays!

*

And that was all I saw. Who knows what happened after that?

Sometimes it's a good idea to see what your future holds so you can do something about it now. So I ran out to Big Momma's MuuMuus and bought one of every size they had. Because red satin? I don't think so.

And for those of you who were wondering, yes, time travel machine repairmen have butt cleavage, too.

What Happens When We Take it Outside

When I reach a point where I don't want to the leave the house because I'm afraid that my neighbor, old man Warner, will shoot me for hammering on the wall all night, or the old lady behind me in line at Kentucky Fried Chicken will stab me in the back for repeatedly backing into her and stepping on her sandaled toes... you know, when I feel the world is against me for no good reason, then I know it's time for me to get out in the real world to restore my faith in humanity. Too much talking-head, fear-mongering television will brainwash you to the point of going fetal. And sometimes we need to be reminded that people are kind and generous in real life.

However, when I decided to take a stroll along the Redondo Beach strand on a warm and sunny day, I was shocked and dismayed at this display of flagrant disregard for others.



I mean, here it is, eighty-some-odd degrees outside. This flag-wielding, America-loving guy is loaded down with everything he owns. Probably homeless. Can you see what's going on here?



I'm a tax-paying citizen like everyone else, but when I see this kind of thing in public, I just want to throw up and start petitioning for change. I mean, what kind of thoughtless individual leaves their straw sticking out in the path of a fellow human being, which will surely send the poor bum and his stinky, moldy luggage, sprawling onto the ground, right into the path of a bicyclist (some distracted idiot talking on his cell phone and not watching where he's pedaling), resulting in the smelly hobo's death?



I don't need to see that. I'm trying to get away from that. I want to witness some compassion. So I headed down to the pier in search of some frickin' serenity.



At first, the lapping of the water against the boat instilled in me a sense of peace...until I got a closer look at what was hanging off the mast:



Since when was publicly hanging a kidnapped woman an OK thing to do? I called out to her and she didn't answer, no doubt because she feared for her life, and I didn't blame her, because look what I saw on deck!




That's right! She was being held hostage by a Pirate/Buddhist consortium of Pacific Rim thieves. I ran to a phone and called 911. I screamed about how a bunch of treasure-hunting, eye-patch-wearing monks had kidnapped a beautiful heiress. I was panicked, but I advised that they would soon be hearing from her captors regarding a ransom demand. The next thing I knew, the place was swarming with cops.

I was then cuffed, read my rights and hauled off to jail. The joke's on them though. I was almost immediately transferred to the Laughs and Giggles Funny Farm where the starchy-dressed staff has been nothing but kind and accomodating.

I play with finger paints and string all day. They don't let us watch television, which is fine with me, because now I'm with my people. My community is where I live, not where the reporters race to every day. And it is in my community where my faith in humanity has been restored.


* * *

And just when I thought every other blogger was named Jennifer (that's right, I'm talking to YOU, Jennifer), along comes the attack of the Kirstens. First, Kirsten from Suburban Psychosis tagged me with one of those "Six Quirky Things About Me" memes, and then Kirsten over at The Soccer Mom Files presented me with the Superior Scribbling Award.

Thanks for the linky love, ladies!

Can Goats Get Catty? Yes We Can.

I'm not bitter or anything, but I think the deck is stacked against you if a beauty pageant is hosted in a foreign country.

While I was honored to have participated as America's representative in the Most Beautiful Goat Competition held this past weekend in some middle eastern country, I found their integrity regarding pageant rules dubious at best.

First of all, this one fellow competitor (as we were not properly introduced, I will simply call her 'Ho-Bag') shook her fuzzy tush at the judges during every portion of the pageant. Now, everyone knows what a prude I am, so my ruffled 100% organic cotton nanny goat panties covered me from head to hoof. And of course you all know by now the controversy over underage goats slipping past the International Goat Beauty Pageant Qualification Committee.

Anyway, this adolescent slut galloped off the stage and as she passed me, I was all, "everyone knows you use double-stick tape" and she was all, "Yeah? Well your friend, Billy, told me you were a lousy bleater".

So I kicked her. Right in the thigh. And she cried, "Why ME? Why ME? Why, why, why?" She wailed and belly-ached like a kid.

Bitch still walked away with first place.

Here she is shaking her thang at the judges one last time during the finals:



(Photo courtesy of Reuters via Telegraph) 


I'd like to thank Eve and Kat for sending me the information on this event and I apologize for the lack of camera coverage when I briefly took the stage for the talent competition  (I eat a full-length trench coat in under a minute), but I think I had already been herded out of the arena by the time the above photo was taken.

Who Says Size Doesn't Matter?

Last week, while test marketing my patented re-usable Kleenex™ with the local men of Schnauz Lodge #492, I saw this billboard:

Wow! A forty-two foot TV? Who doesn't want to win one of those? Mr. Nanny Goats and I have decided to enter this contest because if they're giving away one a day for a month, that's...that's...well you figure it out. In any case, it's a lot, so we're pretty much guaranteed to win.

The problem is, our place is too small, so yesterday we bought a warehouse down by the loading docks at the Port of Sacramento. Escrow on our new digs closes next week.

And just in time for the holidays! You know those Christmas tree places where you hunt down your own fir growing the forest? We're going to yank one out of the ground that's at least 300 years old and plant that sucker in our new front yard.

For the backyard, we'll install an Olympic-sized swimming pool and bid to host the next summer trials. We'll invite Michael Phelps over for tea and a swim. I'm sure we can depend on him to put in a good for us at the IOC.

You're probably wondering how we're going to decorate our not-so-humble abode. Easy - we'll festoon it with big things. Gigantic things. Guinness Book of World Record things.

We are so winning this TV.

Goat Link of the Day

Thanks to Kat of Poetikat for pointing me to this:

Hellooooooo Nurse!

Rhea of Texas World Tangle has more where that came from. And if you're still jonesing for goats, she posted more pics on Thursday here.

Texas World Tangle is not giving away 42-foot TVs, but she is hosting a giveaway for a stir-fry pan and jambalaya mix. Go here for more details. And hurry, the giveaway ends tonight (Friday).

Apolitical Blog Gets Enthusiastic about the Election

You know, I've been so busy lately what with waxing the scales on Gerard, my iguana, every day. And then there's all the elephant dung in the backyard that needs curing, packaging, and shipping to Venezuela.

When this year's General Election materials came in, I figured since there way no way I was going to get down to the polls, I would Vote By Mail. And who has time to read all that sample ballot crap?

In the interest of saving valuable time, I voted YES on everything. Including the President. I don't know about you, but I believe we should have one.

I was raised to consider voting a very personal issue, so I know I shouldn't be blabbing about my personal political opinions, but I feel that voting is so important. It's our right as American citizens and every vote counts, so I thought I'd share my positions with you to demonstrate that I've exercised those rights.

When I saw all the names and propositions and measures, I got so excited, I wanted to shout YES, YES a thousand times YES! But there were only a couple dozen items to vote for, so I made a bunch of copies until I had a thousand YESs and slapped a good ol' US of A postage stamp on each one and mailed those babies.

And man, it warmed my heart to participate in democracy. As I walked down my little version of Main Street, USA to the corner mailbox, I took stock of my life and realized what it meant to be an American.

Shoving the last ballot down the blue gullet of the United States Postal Service, I vowed that I would never forget that I lived in a country where my voice could be heard with a thousand checkmarks. What other country allows that kind of freedom?

So remember kids: vote early, vote often, and God Bless America.



* * *

Goat Link of The Day

Shannon over at Welcome to the Nuthouse had a couple of Jehovah Goatnesses the other day. Okay, not really, but if you want to know the real story, click HERE for Part 1. She posted Part 2 today.

Opus McGee, Private Eye

On Friday at approximately 11pm, I made contact with the target during a reconnaissance flight over the World Wide Web: one Mr. Jeff Corriveau, or The Pen Man, as the project file refers to him.

My client, a rich widow who shall remain nameless pays me astronomical sums of money to procure information about The Pen Man and his dealings in the art world. She didn't tell me what her relationship was with him and I didn't ask. She ensured my placement next to him in the cockpit of a stealth internet jet on a seemingly routine mission.

The Pen Man was disguised as a pilot. I was disguised as a co-pilot. It took us several hours to operate the seatbelts, but our very hip aviator sunglasses, mine equipped with the NGIP Nanocam X-3000, remained in place and soon we were cleared for take-off.

My name is Opus McGee. I'm a private investigator.

At a cruising altitude of 34,000 feet, I introduced myself as Lieutenant Captain Colonel Booker T. Snodgrass, a mild-mannered newspaper editor. It was nearly midnight and the whiskey served by the flight attendant, a dame whose name I would find out later was Destiny, went down smooth.

The Pen Man let it slip that he was a newly-syndicated comic strip artist. I knew from my days back in Nam that this was code for "The green moon will set at dawn".

I decided to go along for the ride. "Oh really?" I said, "Well our local paper could sure use some fresh ink humor."

I was calling his bluff and he knew it. Sweat began to form and trickle down his right temple. I pressed on, certain he would crack under the pressure. I pulled a pack of Lucky Strikes from the front pocket of my flight suit and lit a cigarette. Then I stared at him as he white-knuckled the controls.

"Are you...any good?" I asked.

"Oh boy, am I!" he reached underneath his seat and pulled out a few drawings. I blinked as fast as I could, snapping the photos, and accomplishing my mission faster than I'd hoped. His poker face gave him away. If he didn't hurry up and fold, he'd lose all his chips.



By the time we touched down in Sacramento, he had divulged everything.

I must admit, his disguise was clever. He almost had me fooled. His comic strip, Deflocked, happens to be appearing on a trial basis in the Sacramento Bee. Phase 2 of Operation Green Moon is about to begin, and requires your assistance.

It is vitally important to national security that Deflocked be incorporated into the Bee's funny pages. I urge all Americans, for the sake of this country and the health and welfare of your children, to check out his comics by clicking here. If you agree that it's better than most of the crap that can only be holding on due to tenure, then go to the SacBee comic forums and say something nice about Deflocked. A vote for Deflocked is a vote for America!



Oh yeah, and that dame, Destiny? She was all wrong for me. She twisted me around like a clown twists long skinny balloons into a giraffe who then discards me into the hands of a ten year old boy who loses me in the Fun House ten minutes later.


But Seriously Folks...

In all seriousness, due or otherwise, Nanny Goats In Panties finds a comrade-in-humor-arms in Jeff Corriveau and wishes for him to succeed one newspaper at a time. The Sacramento Bee Comics editors, whose decision of will-they-or-won't-they-publish depends on the feedback they see in the forums. If you could make this one-time comment on his behalf, he would appreciate it, NGIP would appreciate it, and America's funny bone will appreciate it.

Click here to go to the Deflocked samples page.
Click here to go to the SacBee Comic forums.


You've been a lovely audience. I'm here all week. And don't forget to tip your waitresses. Thank you and Good Night.




* * * Nanny Goats Shout Out * * *

A big shout out to the fans for voting Nanny Goats In Panties into the Top 50 rank level over at Humor-Blogs.com. You guys are awesome. You can click here to keep it climbing!

Nanny Goats would also like to thank Abby over at I'm Not Neurotic for adding us to her blog roll. Thanks Abby, you TT crazy girl!