Shorten Your Lifespan in Two Easy Clicks

To what extreme do you bloggers go to get that photo into your story? Will you drive by a Ripley's Believe It Or Not-type scene and think, "Wow, that woulda made a good visual aid to put on my blog", but you don't actually stop and take that picture? Or are you some stalking paparazzi wannabe, living on the edge, keeping your camera with you at all times, should an unbelievable photo op present itself?

Fellow humor blogger Johnny Virgil of 15 minute lunch, does not seem to be the paparazzi type. If he misses that cool shot, he makes up for it with PhotoShop, as in his lemonade post .

I, however, do not yet have the mad Photoshop skills of Mr. Virgil, so I must make due with the stalker approach, pulling over in heavy L.A. traffic, risking my life so that I can bring the news to you, dear reader.

NGIP News! ---- Give us an IP address, we'll give you the world!

For example, a couple of days ago, I saw this:

Just in case the writing at the bottom is too small, it says, "No Parking On Sidewalk". You know, next to the vehicle on the sidewalk.

I am such a chicken when it comes to confrontation, that I nearly had a heart attack when some guy came out of the nearby store and asked what I was doing taking pictures. I mean this thing is out on a public sidewalk, yet I felt like I was a peeping Tom caught in the act of some voyeuristic through-the-window shot snapping.

As a child I was fearful of authority, mortified if singled out in front of people. I would never NEVER test my boundaries. Because of this I was rewarded with virtually zero punishment and an incredibly boring childhood. But this - this horrible potential conflict...EEK! My adrenaline-fueled blood raced through my body preventing me from thinking calmly. I did manage to panic, however, rendering me rather mute and dumb for the ensuing conversation:

Stranger: "What are you doing?"

Me: "Huh?"

Stranger: "Are you taking a picture of my sign? My car?"

Me: "Uhhhh......"

and so on....

After getting a hold of myself, I tried to act like what I was doing was not against the law or anything. I then realized that this guy thought I was taking a picture of his car because I might want to buy it. He said he forgot to put the FOR SALE sign on it and began to point out the low mileage and pitching other desirable features. I acted semi-interested - it was the least I could do after violating his...something or other. What the hell was I violating, anyway? Nothing, right? Nevertheless, I was anxious.

Once I realized that he was not going to yell at me and confiscate my camera like a bully and make me cry, I leaned away as if to leave. When I feel overwhelmingly guilty, I can't make up a simple lie like, "I've got a thing, see ya!" I will just stand there like an idiot. It must be that I feel like I deserve whatever punishment is about to be doled out. Because I crossed that line, that boundary I would never have approached in my innocent and ignorant youth.

I was still a little shaky when I climbed into my car, thankful to be alive, but I'll bet the experience shaved a few days off my life. Like skydiving. That paparazzi stuff is too exciting for me.

I gotta learn Photoshop.

Nanny Goats Dips Hoof into Shallow Waters

Hollywood enjoys an abundance of boobs on sticks and if that's what you are looking for (and who isn't?), just go to some trendy, Daily-Candy-featured, celebrity-owned restaurant and take a gander at the bar area.

I recently met a friend of mine at the hip-and-happening-right-now restaurant called Beso near Hollywood and Vine. Some of you may be interested to know that celebrity chef Todd English owns this place, while the rest of you, you who seek the boobs-on-sticks chicks, may be interested to know that Eva Longoria is also part owner. This lofty, drafty, dark and noisy space has some of the most comfortable chairs I've ever had the luxury in which to plant my ass.

I can't remember what sophisticated term they used for the bar (something like "cocktail lounge"), but the high-heeled waitresses spent every free-hand moment surreptitiously yanking down their spandexy mini-skirts. There were a LOT of women to stare at in this place, posing around the bar and in the dining area, yet they made up the majority of the customers. You'd think there was a war on (I know there is a war on, but I'm talking about the World War II kind where all the men were drafted, leaving every American town somewhat manless.) But last night, in this shallow sea, any fisherman could have sailed in without bothering to hook bait or weigh anchor. Just throw your rod in and pull out a one night keeper.

My editor/writer friend was there to review the place for her magazine, so wine and food pairings were paraded onto our table. For her, this is something routine and she yawned about it while I was a little kid in a candy store, trying to contain my excitement over the brief glimpse of how the .01 percent of this country live. She would comment on how the Cava Spanish Champagne paired nicely with the Squash Blossom over Heirloom Tomatoes over something the server referred to as a quesadilla that was more of a cheese-filled crepe thingy, while I sat there, inadequately prepared to offer even two cents worth of discussion, reduced to asking, "What's a squash blossom?"

We gabbed for three hours over five beautifully presented courses plus dessert, each accompanied with a new set of silverware and separate glass of alcohol (beginning with cocktails, continuing with various wines and finishing with port). It was delicious as hell, but no "fine-living" magazine restaurant review would be so gauche as to put it in such terms. Sophisticated reviews will use words like gastronomy and bouquet and discerning, whereas I would tend to throw out slurped and gorged and belched and probably, spilled.

I would certainly recommend this place and its Latin fusion menu (perhaps you would be tempted to try Eva's Homemade Tortilla Soup), but do NOT get me started on the valet parking where you must immediately fork over $10 before even handing them your keys.


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NGIP would like to thank Mrs. G at Derfwad Manor for adding us to her blog roll. (You will find us under "California Derfs"). Derfwad Manor is one of your better sources for hystericality.

And a big shout out goes to Alessia at Musings from the Crypt for adding Nanny Goats to her blog roll. We are now part of the crypt crew! Woo Hoo!...Hey, that rhymes.


Also, please click this Humor Blogs link to see where Nanny Goats currently ranks on Humor-Blogs.com

Nanny Goats In Panties Makes History (Channel)

That's right. Nanny Goats In Panties is featured on The History Channel.

Well, actually it's the History Channel Website.

See, zero score and four years ago, these two dudes walk into the forum. The message forum, that is (as opposed to some Mel Brooks joke). One dudes asks the other dude if, well, here. I'll show you:

Ancient China vs. Rome
Posted: Nov 13, 2004 1:04 PM (1 of 213)
If a hypothetical war occoured between the Roman Empire at its height, and the Chinese Empire at its height, who would win. I say China, but I would like to hear your opinions.

Two hundred twelve posts and three and a half years later, some random dude asks:

Re: Ancient China vs. Rome
Posted: Jun 20, 2008 3:57 PM (212 of 213)

Would goats be forced to wear panties?

Does Magna Carta mean nothing to you? Did she die in vain?

You are more than welcome to go to the post to try to figure out why either of these questions were asked, because I don't see how the Huns and Mongolia would inspire someone to inquire about goats.

Neverthless, it's the now famous response to the above question that launched Nanny Goats In Panties to the fame it enjoys today:

Re: Ancient China vs. Rome
Posted: Jun 21, 2008 4:44 AM (213 of 213)

lol that reminds me of this website http://www.nannygoatsinpanties.com/

And then, ladies and gentleman, a star was born. The question is, do I feel elated that this blog was put out there to attract all the world's history buffs to NGIP, where they would be wooed by my unrelenting gift to raise the mundane to poetic platitudinal proportions? Or am I deflated because the mere mention of my blog brought the nearly four year conversation to a screeching halt?

Also, did you notice how this guy sort of cheated, claiming that the dude's seemingly nonsequitor question about goats in panties, "reminded" him of my blog? Because it didn't. I saw the google search he did on "goats be forced to wear panties" which in turn led him to the NGIP lair.

On the other hand, did you notice how I sort of cheated, claiming that Nanny Goats has become an overnight star thanks to the History Channel? Actually, it wasn't so much cheating as it was exaggerating, misleading, and to some degree, lying. I assume they won't hold that against me, once they've discovered the gold mine that is the penned brilliance on this blog. It's all just show business, right?

You know, we famous cable television celebrities have to play the game to stay in it. I mean, the fans may stretch the truth a bit, but we should accept it and at times even find it flattering. I expect at some point soon, The History Channel will approach me to write and produce a highly successful, allegedly nonscripted, reality show about the fierce and dangerous world of locksmithing. Either that or the equally tension-filled and dramatic, historical documentary about copy machine repairmen as told through a seasickening hand-held camera - doesn't the mere thought of it make you nauseous already?

It's only a matter of time before I hear from them, and when I do, I will cull my cast from the message forums on their very website. It's that whole, "I'll scratch my back, you scratch yours" philosophy that makes Hollywood what it is today, God bless 'em.

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Nanny Goats In Panties would like to throw a shout out to Crotchety Old Man Yells At Cars for adding NGIP to his "My Favorite Places" blog roll. Thank you Crotchety Old Man!

And don't forget to click on this Humor-Blogs link to check our current ranking. A click is a vote for Nanny Goats!

Dear Termite: Congrats on that Bug Of The Year Award

Doesn't it seem like only yesterday when I was showing you all the bugs I had in the house?

Hey, how many of you remember this picture from six months ago?





Yeah, that was when it was our turn to be the neighborhood pariah, kinda like in the 70s when your kid got lice or he came out of the closet: "Don't go near him, Timmy!" Other mothers slinked past you, clutching their own children and staring down their noses with disgust because it would NEVER happen to THEM.

So anyway, my condo building in L.A. got gassed in January. And we paid a bazillion dollars for a SIX year warranty. Which was actually kinda cool because it also killed all the other dang bugs hanging out and exhibiting themselves like flashers every couple of days.

But then LAST WEEK, one of the neighbors in our five-unit building found termites coming out of a pipe in her ceiling, and promptly called Terminix. They came out and said something along the lines of:

"Oh, those are subterRAINian termites. We treated you for the OTHER kind of termites in January. Yeah, THESE termites are different. And for half a bazillion dollars (a discount, since we were just here in January) we can come out and take care of these NEW and DIFFERENT little critters. And for just a few hundred dollars more, you can get the FOUR year warranty, blah, blah, blah..."

and THAT ladies and germs, is how they get you.

Tune in next season when Terminix discovers a new species: the STRATOSPHERE termites.


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Nanny Goats would like to thank Charlene over at So, What You're Saying Is... for adding NGIP to her blog roll. She's a fellow Humor-Blogs member (and a high school drama teacher) who taught me that Loonie is a Canadian dollar, which as you know, is equivalent to about 14 of our American dollars.

And speaking of Humor-Blogs, please click on this Humor-Blogs link to check our current ranking. A click is a vote for Nanny Goats!

Hi Jim, Nice To Meet You. Uh, What's Your Name Again?

Mr MudPuppy and I hit Starbucks almost every night. I mean, why stand in an epic line of impatient commuters shaky from withdrawal during the morning rush hour when you can save all kinds of time getting that caffeine buzz just before you go to bed?

Since we contribute to the national landfill with those daily cups, I started thinking, why not save those little cup sleeves and bring them in for reuse with our nightly jolt? And because we are so forgetful in our middle-age, we leave them right by the door. Like this...



And here we are a week later...



So now we wear them on our wrists. Like Wonder Woman. Deflecting the bullets shot by hovering tree huggers for not living environmentally friendly. They also hang around waiting to antagonize us after we've sailed past the the green reusable grocery bags that we keep on top of the garbage can, next to the garage door.

You know, so we won't forget them...




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Nanny Goats In Panties is continuing to reach out to its global partners in the blogosphere. Dagny Taggart (her nickname) hails all the way from India and has been generous enough to add us to the blog roll on her site Scratch For The Soul. This picture is from her latest entry, Be Yourself. Say, Dagny (aka Scratch Bags), how far away is the nearest Starbucks from you?


Please click on this Humor-Blogs link to check our current ranking. A click is a vote for Nanny Goats!

Pitchforks and Torches and Mob Scenes, Oh My

Paperlessness is next to Godliness, or something like that. In a world where you risk your life and limb with bloody paper cuts and letter opener stab wounds, you do what you can to reduce the paperage.

I no longer watch how high my check numbers climb (unlike my pageload views), because I'm all about the online banking now. I don't want to see any more paper bills if given the option.

So when Citibank offered their "All-Electronic Program", I jumped at the chance to reduce my inbox.

This was a few months ago. And yes, I no longer receive a monthly statement in the mail. What I do keep receiving every month is a paper letter that states the following:

Your Citibank statement is now available online. This notification is part of the All-Electronic Program you enrolled in to receive your statements online only instead of in the mail.

At the end of the letter, they hope I continue to enjoy the many benefits of the All-Electronic Program.

Are they referring to the All-Electronic Program that keeps mailing me paper notifications every month? On paper? In the mail? That All-Electronic Program?

What part of "All-Electronic" replaces a statement with a different piece of paper telling me that they are no longer sending me that other piece of paper?


Any fellow Citibank cardholders interested in a consumer vigilante justice movement here?



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Nanny Goats In Panties would like to ask everyone to put their hands together for June Cleaver Nirvana for two reasons:
1. For adding Nanny Goats to her blog roll, and
2. For writing an awesomely entertaining blog. Her recent post about being a fierce camper is not only hilarious, witty, and hysterical, but it's also funny.


And don't forget to click here to see how we're ranking on Humor-Blogs. A click is a vote for Nanny Gotas!

Wake Up and Smell the Cough

So you're on this horrible blind date. "What was I thinking?" you ask yourself. This guy is a total serial killer. And now he's asking you if you want to go somewhere with him after dinner. You know what that means, don't you? Yep, a long bumpy ride in the trunk with duct tape plastered across your face, totally ruining your lipstick. He coughs and you could swear you see green beasties shooting out of his mouth. They smell sour and evil.

The problem is, all your friends are losers and you can't depend on them for anything. If you had some real friends, you could have asked one of them to call you during dinner so you could pretend to have an emergency and get out of this date and why doesn't the waiter have this man arrested already for leering at me all night?

You excuse yourself to the ladies room for a frantic call to a friend or two, to ask them on extremely short notice (how rude of you, by the way) to call you back in five minutes. One friend doesn't pick up and another is clearly in the middle of something that cannot be interrupted, judging by what sounds like the phone dropping into a swimming pool after fits of giggles.

Now you're really stuck. What are you going to do? You can't spend all night in the bathroom.

Or can you?

This would have been so much simpler if you had just gone to Wakerupper before this monster date. It would have taken you 20 seconds to enter your phone number, time, and any message you wanted to send to yourself like: "Something terrible has happened, you have to leave right now!" At least then, when your dinner with this vampire-wannabe maniac is interrupted by a phone call from Wakerupper, you can easily extricate yourself from the date with a "Oh my God! Oh that's terrible. Which hospital? I'm on my way!" And boom - you're out of there with apologies.

Wakerupper can be used for all sorts of things. Like wake-up calls for when you are traveling and you don't trust that mealy-mouthed woman at the front desk to set a wake-up call because you pissed her off earlier when you asked to have your room changed four times because you could swear you heard voices, or smelled ectoplasm, or whatever. Wakerupper.com is there to accomodate your needs, regardless of what a freak you are.

That's Wakerupper.

If you have a suggestion for a cool or useful website, just click on the suggestion box and tell us about it. We'll be happy to pass on a site that you've more or less discovered (because you think maybe lots of people haven't heard of it yet) and give you credit for it with a link back to your site.

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For a brief time yesterday, Nanny Goats in Panties broke into the Top 10 on Humor-Blogs (not that I'm checking every hour or anything). Click on this link to see where NGIP ranks now. Your click will help vote us up the ranks.

How Moses Disposes of Those Tainted Tomatoeses

We took Dad to Scott's Seafood for Father's Day yesterday. Dinner with my family usually means plenty of food.

On the floor.

See?



Looks like SOMEbody didn't believe the waiter's claim that the tomatoes were salmonella-free, and didn't have the GUTS to just leave it on the plate.

My contribution is that little bite of filet mignon - I had an incident out the gate with my fork and my first or second bite. But I saved the fork from starring in this picture.

Oh sure, I could have shown you the prettier side of Scott's on the river, like this:



or this:



but we didn't have that fabulous view. And besides, that serenity thing...it's not really me, or what I'm about.

I'm about the food on the floor at table twelve next to the kitchen.

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I'm not sure how this happened although I'm sure it's all your fault: Nanny Goats In Panties jumped from #21 to #13 on Humor-Blogs, so THANKS HEAPS!!!! You can click on the logo (or here) to see the current ranking.

Coming This Summer to a Blog Near You: The Remodel

My bathroom hasn't been cleaned in months. You may or may not be asking why. Well, ever since demolition was scheduled in February, I keep thinking: what's the point of scraping all this mildew off the peeling walls and what's this black gunk all over the grout, and is that a dead mouse in the back of the cabinet?

The contractor (let's call him George because at this point, I still like him) and I agreed on the terms. I ordered and paid for all the materials. Each time I see the corosion on the fixtures, I figure why go to all that trouble when I'm only here one week out of the month and he's just about to demolish it all? And whenever there's a debate about cleaning anything, I win hands down every time.

OK, I haven't exactly paid for the materials yet. I was able to finance it for no interest, no payments for twelve months. Twelve months! And I've only had to call their customer service once so far to have them change the terms BACK to twelve months after I discovered a recent statement suddenly read six months.

Between my travel schedule and the contractor's workload and our miscommunication and his taking on other projects when I thought he was supposed to show up at my place, this thing keeps getting postponed. Twice now, I've had to call the interior designer and tell her to reschedule the delivery of all the new materials only to have the warehouse call me days later to confirm delivery for the day that was supposed to be postponed.

I thought for sure I would have a brilliant Consumer From Hell story to tell you by now, but the project has been postposed until the end of next month. So, I apologize for not having anything to complain about on this remodel front.

Just wait until that first swing of the sledge hammer. I'm sure something will go wrong by then.


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Nanny Goats and Panties would like to thank Boondocks Ramblings for mentioning us the other day:

I got kicked off Humor Blogs for whatever reason and yet something called Nanny Goats in Panties is ranked in the top 30 blogs?

Kicked Off? Eek! Help prevent Nanny Goats from getting kicked off by going to Humor-Blogs to keep apprised of our ranking.

No Thanks, Guvnuh. We Closed.

Sometimes you just don't want to go all the way to Cuba for good cigar. That's why I get mine illegally from Mr. Wortheimer down at the local Fireworks, Bank Robbery Supplies and Contraband store. I cruised by last week to pick me up some fat stogies. Here's a picture of the place:




See the white sign in the window? Here's a closer look:





Now, what I want to know is, what could the Terminator have possibly done to piss this guy off? Any ideas?

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For a very brief time yesterday, Nanny Goats was #1 on Sacto Top 25.

Go here to see where NGIP currently ranks on Humor-Blogs.com.

Did I Forget to Mention that I'm an Anti-Memite?

Some people are meme LOVERS. You can tell who these people are. They never send you an email asking how that bloody dangling body part of yours is healing. They don't want to know how widowhood is treating you. They don't care how many bunny rabbits you had to pull out of someone's tailpipe at the office.

No. They just want to talk about themselves: "I went to these 3 schools and I like these 3 colors and I want to have sex with these 3 celebrities." And they want to tell you this about once a week. And they want you to PASS IT ON to TEN OF YOUR FRIENDS, and you have to answer all these damn questions and golly won't that be fun?

I need you to turn up the volume when I say NO! because I don't think you heard me the first time.

I foolishly assumed that the blogosphere would take me away from all that. But like any new technology, people figured out how to hack that system too and there are memes everywhere around here! Crawling up your scrollbars and getting inside your widgets!

What I'm trying to say is that if I had a blog post for every meme I got... If I wanted to be a meme blog, I'd have called myself Screaming Memes in Panties (which would undoubtedly elevate the perv readership an order of magnitude thanks to Google).

Why am I taking this out on you today? I got a meme a few weeks ago and I've been pulling my guilty hair out while NOT following its directions. Because the LAST thing I'm going to do is get viral. You wouldn't believe how demanding this thing is. Why it's......here I'll show you:

1. Pick up the nearest book.
2. Open to page 123
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the next three sentences.
5. Tag five people, and acknowledge who tagged you.

First of all it's very presumptuous for Fiery Heart Designs to assume I would have a book nearby. Now granted, I do just happen to have Dirty Job by Christopher Moore right here, and they expect me to open it, like this, to page 123. Oh like I have time to count 1,2,3,4,5, ... OK to the 5th sentence and post the next three sentences. See? This is what I mean. Telling me to take the time out of my precious ever-living day to post three lousy sentences. Like you care. Do you care? Here, I'll show you how silly this is. Would you waste your time writing down these three sentences?

"Above? Fun? I know, instead of a basket, you can weave a hat from his entrails."

Boring, right?

And not that I would ever EVER, mind you, subject any of my friends to this agony, but if I were, say staring down the business end of an AK-47, then I might be willing to part with a few names like...

(This is like Spin the Bottle, isn't it? You're squinting as you read this now, hoping it isn't you.)

(Oh, this is killing you now. I could just take a commercial break right here and make you suffer.)

(But I won't)

Between Us Girls

Love The Eclectic Life

Cooking Schmooking

I'm Not Neurotic

Big Shoes


It was a difficult decision. You were all very good, particularly in the Chocolate Turkey Throttle Down Finals, but I'm afraid we could only choose five of you. Just know that, you're all winners at Nanny Goats In Panties.

And if you're upset because the bottle didn't point to you, consider yourself added to the list. Or maybe one of the above will pay YOU to trade with THEM.



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Hey, thanks heaps for boosting my ratings over at Humor-Blogs.com and the Sacramento Top 25. You guys rock, man! Mooch Ass Grassy Ass!

Getting Mowed Down, Hitchcock Style

Overwhelmed by late spring vanity (living in L.A. will just do that to you), I decided to go out for a walk. You know, get that circulation going, the heart pumping, burn the calories rather than merely throwing them up. I always bring my camera with me because you never know what you're going to see and want to share with the world on your blog.

So there I was, minding my own business, when all of a sudden, I saw this thing coming at me:




Now granted, maybe I shouldn't have been walking in the middle of the road, but all of a sudden I was Cary Grant, diving to the ground to avoid decapitation. Since when was it OK to be driving these things out in public?


* * * Nanny Goats Shout Out * * *

NGIP would like to give Twenty Four At Heart a big shout out for adding us to her blog roll. And speaking of SoCal-imposed body attendance, her post for today hilariously demonstrates what we are willing to do to ourselves.


Go to Humor-Blogs.com to keep Nanny Goats In Panties on their Front Page.

Nanny Goats Secret Identity Revealed

Since inquiring (enquiring?) minds want to know, Nanny Goats is going to give its fans a rare inside look at the author. You'll have a chance to see beyond the brown goat. The secret identity of Nanny Goats and Panties has been revealed on another website. What you're about to find out may shock you. (Like, for example, I'm not a guy, even though at times I may swear like a sailor.) I am also not a brown goat. In fact, none of the goats in that banner at the top is me. I don't even know them. I was just out prancing around in the hilly meadows behind my Highlands castle one day and there they were. So I took a picture, had them sign a waiver and poof! - it's on the NGIP website.

So, go take that potty break now before I send you to the inner sanctum, because you won't wanna miss this big scoop! And it's only for a limited time, until these words scoot down the page too far to be noticed anymore.

It is a privilege and an honor that Nanny Goats In Panties is featured this week on WomenBloom.com. Look for the Featured Blog Post of the Week (NGIP) and click on the "To Believe, Or Not To Believe" link to get the FULL STORY!



* * * Nanny Goats Shout Outs * * *


A big NGIP shout out goes to P.S. Original for adding me to her list of "Wonderful Blogs". While you're there, checkout her cool display of hand-made earring shrines!



A big THANK YOU to Tricia over at Shout Daily for adding NGIP to her blog roll. Tricia, as some of you may recall, recently threatened to kiss the brown goat for promoting the mezzoman.com website. Check out this week's featured post on her site entitled "Turn the Car Around, We're Having a Baby". You soft-hearted readers may want to have the Kleenex box nearby.

I was just checking out my blog roll earlier and saw this:




How cool is that? And now Abby at I'm Not Neurotic has all that traffic stemming from everyone who Googles "rocks in panties" to look forward to!



As Nanny Goats In Panties goes to press, we are ranked #28 on Humor-Blogs.com. Having broken into the Top 30, the banner now appears on their Front Page. Yay! Keep on clickin'!



You can click on the graphic above and see if the ranking for Nanny Goats has changed since press time.

How To Meet That Loud, Annoying, and Embarrassing-To-Be-Around Friend Halfway

Have you ever hurtled through space, dodging asteroids and other interstellar detritus, and wondered when someone was going to find the next inhabitable planet already because dang, it's hotter than Hades in your studio-apartment-sized moon-hopper?

You haven't?

Well, have you ever let a pile of unread magazines grow so tall that you wished an elf would materialize from your toaster oven and draw you a long hot bubble bath?

No?

Have you ever tried to make plans for dinner with a friend whom you don't really like because all they do is talk, talk, talk about their boring life with their boring family in their boring house and you resent having to drive all the way over to their side of town because when they ask, "Where shall we meet?", you can't think of a place before they throw out the perfect little spot on their side of town? Don't you wish someone would create a website where all you have to do is enter your address and their address and voila! - you get a list of restaurants that are halfway between you and your blowhard buddy?

You DO?

Oh.

I wasn't expecting that answer. Uh, just a minute...

[fumble, fumble, fumble,... sounds of pots and pans falling out of frantically searched boxes and crashing to the floor ...]

Here we are! Yes, look no further than mezzoman.com for your "Neither Here Nor There" needs. mezzoman.com is the perfect geographical compromise companion when you need to, say, get together to sign those divorce papers, or find a neutral public location in broad daylight for that internet blind date. Why go all the way when halfway is good enough? Why go clear across town to their House of Pancakes when you can go the halfway House of Pancakes?

Thank you, Amy, for telling Nanny Goats In Panties about mezzoman.com

If you fancy yourself the discoverer of a cool or useful website that everyone in the world isn't talking about already, let Nanny Goats In Panties Know About It. If it passes the Turn Your Head And Cough test (you know, if it isn't just a webpage with a big picture of someone's engorged entrails, but rather a site that maybe sells foldaway away furniture for your tiny shoebox of a shack in space) then feel free to suggest it here, or click on the new suggestion box and tell us about it. Maybe we'll mull it over and pass it on to the rest of the NGIP fans.


And now it's time for ...

* * * Nanny Goats Shout Outs * * *

Nanny Goats is currently climbing in the Humor-Blogs rankings every day, thanks to you guys! When we hit #50 the other day, each NGIP post now appears on the aggregate post feed on the their home page. Kinda like this:



At press time, we are at #38! When we hit #30, the Nanny Goats site and banner are featured on their home page, so keep clicking! You guys are awesome!

NGIP would like to say THANK YOU to two fellow Sacramento Top 25 members for adding Nanny Goats to their blog rolls:

Melly from Cooking Schmooking who for some reason recently found it necessary to buy some halibut cheeks and is requesting recipes for it. If you don't know what halibut cheeks are, she's got a picture. So send your recipe for Halibut Sweet Cheek Surprise to Cooking Schmooking.

...and Lori of Hahn at Home who gives us a humorous, well-written and engaging look at the woes of lesbian dating in her post, Dating For The More Mature Crowd.

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!

Beware of Dangerous Internet Connections!

I agreed to meet someone online the other day. And by "meet online", I mean "meet offline", as in in-person. A very very dangerous thing to do. Nanny Goats in Panties does not advocate such behavior, nor do its sponsors. In other words, DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME. Do as we say, not as we do, that sort of thing.

It was to be a neutral and public location (Bread and Porridge), in broad daylight (11am), on a busy street (Santa Monica Blvd).

The internet introduced us and my blind date had the distinct advantage of knowing what I looked like. That's right, a brown goat.

I arrived a couple of minutes early and sat in the waiting area, trying to remind myself that newer cars have those trunk latches that you can open from the inside, should the need arise while barreling down Topanga Canyon at 75mph. I tried to calm down by telling myself that I was meeting a harmless woman. Who was married. With kids.

Or was I? What if I'd been misled all this time and it was a giant Tasmanian Devil-looking perv-man who had located me by a simple Google search for "timeshare panties" or "anti-masturbatory nanny goats"? What if he'd created a women's blog for the sole purpose of luring me and others into his lair?

Or worse, what if this strange person came in, took one look at me, and walked out? Why, I'd be devastated. What am I, not good-looking enough for abduction? Not sexy enough to warrant 4 weeks of solid coverage on Greta Van Susteren? Not worthy of showing the same 3 pictures of me (including that embarrassing shot of me making out with an alligator that NO ONE WAS SUPPOSED TO KNOW ABOUT - I thought what happened in New Orleans stayed in New Orleans) over and over again on Nancy Grace while she tearfully makes the event somehow about her and her twins?

I'll have you know I'm drop dead gorgeous! And you wouldn't know what you're missing, you two-bit kidnapper! I know people! I'd be worth a fortune in ransom. Shame on you!

Anyway, as it turns out, merlotmom and I found each other and hit it off. She's fabulous and I think it's the beginning of a beautiful relationship, or whatever Bogart says as he walks off in the mist with Claude Rains.


* * * Nanny Goats Shout Out * * *

A big THANK YOU goes out to Librarian Lee for adding Nanny Goats In Panties to her blog roll. If you ever find yourself in a big hairy monster's trunk, you could learn a thing or two about perspective and optimism from Librarian Lee.


Also, as of press time, Nanny Goats In Panties is only ONE rank spot away from making the Top 50 on Humor-Blogs.com. Click here, to help propel us into the Top 50! A big THANK YOU to YOU (you know who you are) for shooting us past 900+ other humor blogs to reach #51.

Culture, Schmulture, Where's the Can?

Anybody who uses "Sacramento" and "Culture" in the same sentence is lying. Not only have I personally witnessed Sacramento citizens' lack of support of the arts (I give you Bodies Revealed), but I have also been a victim of its steadfast squashing of any hope to stir up interest in such matters.

Why, just recently, I was visiting an art gallery and took a liking to their featured artist. I thought it would be courteous to ask if I could photograph the art for my blog. You know, show the world that Sacramento could actually have some cool stuff.



But when I asked the woman in the rear of the gallery about the art, she kept her back to me the entire time, stirring her cauldron. Her hesitation to grant me a decent audience with her majesty dripped with an attitude so thick with part seething judgment and part bitter NYC MOMA wannabe, that my intentions quickly transformed from a glowing review of the art gallery itself on an internationally popular blog (hello Dublin!) to a review that is fighting the urge to name names as well as call them. Let me warn you now, I do not succeed entirely. She had the audacity to act as if WE were the local yokels and SHE was not. Never mind the fact that I was accompanied by a woman from Marin County (which is NOT Sacramento in case you were wondering) who used to be the coordinator of THE largest art festival in the country.

As any writer hell-bent on revenge would do, I present to you an open letter to that person in that unnamed (so far, anyway) establishment.

Dear Art Gallery Beeyotch,

You had a chance to promote your gallery, yourself, and the potential to sell a few pieces of art. But you chose instead, for some unknown reason, to judge my friend and me. Was it something we wore? Something we didn't wear? Not that you looked. You are clearly a bitter, bitter woman who either flunked out of Sotheby's Art Academy, or couldn't even get accepted and have had to settle for managing a gallery in a substandard city that is beneath you. And that bitterness shows.

I would think that if your job is to SELL art, that you might spend some time trying to SELL that art. If you think people from Sacramento are lame and uncultured, why not try educating them so they can appreciate what you have to offer. When we asked you if the artist was local and had a website, you sneered and said that he might, but you wouldn't help us with that information. I tried to take this as a poor attempt at humor, and forgave you this blunder, and presumed this meant that if we wanted to buy his art, we would have to buy it through you, but you did everything in your power to prevent us from becoming interested in purchasing from you. You never stopped once to turn around and look me in the eye and engage me. I know if I came in again next week, you would not recognize me from the week before.

You know nothing about customer service or sales. When a potential buyer comes in and brings up the possibility that an artist must have a website because it's probably a great tool for promoting and selling their own work, you do not say, "Well, not really."

And you do not hire assistants who simply mirror your ability to contradict the customer. I explained to your mini-me, that I know how some places forbid photography. I was trying to demonstrate a courtesy to you and the artist. But instead, your "helper" used it as an opportunity to condescendingly tell me how a true art appreciator would never be so gauche as to photograph someone's paintings and besides, the pictures on THEIR website would be far superior to anything I could take (was she referring to the gauchely taken ones or the non-gauchely taken ones on their website?) Clearly, I appeared inept in every way, including that of a photographer. I mean, look at this piece of shit photo... you can't even tell what it is, right?

The Persistance Of Bunnies by Mark Bryan

Do not ask me why, but I tried to engage your better half in conversation by mentioning the idea of how you couldn't photograph the Mona Lisa, and she jumped right in and said, "Yes you can." Why the hell would you continue to boldly contradict the customer like that? When was the last time you garnered a commission from THAT approach? Since she decided to take me literally and get argumentative about it, I stooped to her level and informed her that I knew for a fact, based on experience, that you were not allowed to photograph (with or without flash) the ceiling of the Sistene Chapel. I should have said "Sixteenth Chapel", just to see what she would have said. But she neither confirmed nor denied my claim. Why? Because she's never been there! So HA! I guessed I showed you and your little secretary there.

Anyway, I circled the gallery and came back to try again. I thought I might appeal to the self-centered part of you by asking what you thought of the artist, if you'd met him, what you thought of his work. Granted, you let me see one side of you I'd never seen before. Your left side. But it wasn't long before you flashed me with your back again.

Do you think Mark Bryan would appreciate such poor representation, hearing about how you refuse to talk about his paintings to someone who probably makes way more money than you, you mere docent? If you knew anything about his work, you did not demonstrate it. Your unprofessional attempt at art snobbery came across as tart snottery. You obviously had no idea who I am and how powerful my words can be when wielded against your sorry ass. I mean, my good woman, I could eat your lunch for breakfast! Dare I say, I...drink...your...milkshake!

My point here is that as long as people like you are running the art galleries in Sacramento, the cultural IQ of the area will continue to stagnate and wallow. In other words, fuck you and the tight-assed easel you rode in on.

And another thing, I hope your face freezes like that.

Sincerely Yours,
Nanny Goats

P.S. If you like something, you'll tell one friend. If you don't, you'll tell ten. If you have a blog...

So anyway, there's this new artist whose work I found compelling. He's got a bit of Dali, Alice In Wonderland, and Wizard of Oz with some clowns, robots, bunnies and politics thrown in. Do check his website out. Not only did I find the website by merely Googling his name, but also because the art gallery where I first saw his work had it, along with the artist's contact information, visibly displayed at the front of the gallery. As opposed to the back, where the "experts" are, who can't help you with that kind of information.

This here's another shitty photygraff of a painting I had tooken while scratchin' my crotch in public and spittin' on the floor while sneakin' a chug o' moonshine from the jug in mah overalls.:

Again, here is Mark Bryan's Website, since I'm so stoopit I kan't remember the shop that showed the nice pitchers, so y'all won't be able to buy nuthin' from them. Duhhhh..........What's this button do?


* * *

Nanny Goats Shout Out

A big shout out to Domestic Glamour who has so generously added Nanny Goats In Panties to its Blog Roll. Domestic Glamour's post entitled: Bathrooms are Not For Food, Drink Or Toys may find all parents nodding in sympathy.

Also, a big THANK YOU goes to WillThink4Wine for putting Nanny Goats In Panties on her list of Five Blogs That Make Her Day. Big HUGS right backatcha darlin'!

* * * The following is for NGIP Loyalists Only...This means YOU! * * *

If you've made it this far, could you extend Nanny Goats the favor of clicking on this link or the Humor-Blog logo on the left hand side of this web page? At press time, Nanny Goats is rated #88 on the site (having climbed over nearly 900 sites to get there). If we get to #50, then something faboo happens with the traffic because our posts will suddenly appear on Humor-Blogs's Home Page! Then some executive from some major movie studio like Sony discovers the awesomeness that is Nanny Goats In Panties and we're inking a screenwriting deal like THAT! And all because of you guys.

Tap, Tap, Tap...Is This Thing On?

As I witnessed my Amazon Reviewer Ranking plummet from 49,674 to 49,838, I thought, man, I gotta buy more stuff and tell the world what I think of it. And fast! I mean, once I tumble beyond that 50,000 mark, I may as well just throw it in.

But that's not why I brought you here today. I wanted to tell you about my niece, a rising rock star on the local punk scene, who was a guest on Rob Fatal's Waxaholixxx show on KSSU the other day. They shared and played some of their favorite music and he interviewed her like how they do real rock stars with "How did you get where you are today?" and "Who were your influences?" and I was beaming with pride as I streamed the show live from the station's website. Especially when she mentioned her "aunt who was probably listening right now". Woo hoo! That's me!

Beside myself with pride and excitement, I couldn't resist texting her every few minutes during the show:

~ omg ur on the radio! Thats so awesome!

~ your voice is soft, are you talking close to the mike?

~ dont forget to mention your CD

~ sit up straight, talk from your diaphragm

...and so on.

When the host told the listeners to call in if they had any questions for either one of them, I told MrMudPuppy he HAD to call and ask the Freak something. Freak is her stage name. Don't ask - I can't remember why.

MrMudPuppy told me I should call. After much pushing and shoving and a bunch of You, No-You!s followed by some hesitation - I've never called in to a radio station before - I picked up the phone. And the conversation went a little something like this:

"Hello, KSSU FM, you're on the air."

"Really I'm on the air?" (Pretty stupid, huh? My only excuse is that I was expecting a screener or something first, but I sallied forth.)

"Uh, well, this is Manjo MudPuppy. I'm a longtime listener, first time caller." (Manjo is my alter email ego and MudPuppy is my married name. The plan was to speak in character while still letting Freak know who was calling, but when I blurted out "Huh Wha? Duhhhhh... Am I on the air?" in my normal voice, that pretty much blew my cover.)

"How ya doing?" (The DJ said this, probably wondering why in the hell he didn't have the screener answer first, although he was laughing. Sort of.)

"Fine, thanks. Thank you for taking my call. I just had one question for the Freak of whom I'm a big fan. Who is your favorite Power Ranger and why? And I'll take my answer off the air."

I should note the Freak is a Power Ranger fan and yes, I'm still kicking myself for not coming up with a more blog-worthy question, but shit man, I was nervous. And running out of time trying to think of something witty, so get off my back. They had two callers the whole show anyway, I was just trying to add a little interactiveness. You try and come up with a brilliant idea with the clock ticking, you 24 Jack Bauer wannabe!

* * *

Nanny Goats Shout Out

Nanny Goats has gone global, man and in no small part thanks to Aileni Noyle, a Welshman and Megadeth fan living in Ireland. From his blog, Loose Ends, you'll see a link called Nexus.... for the Index, Links and Other Stuff. This link takes you to his Nexus Page where you'll find the link to Nanny Goats In Panties. Woo Hoo! We are on someone's Other Stuff page!

This man has lived and if you check out his Once An Islander page his picture scrapblog, or his Personal Myth page, you'll see the artist and thinker that Nanny Goats sees.