Death By Goat

*Disclaimer* If you are related to this man, we are very sorry for your loss.  If you are not related but offended by this post, buzz off.  If you are related and offended, well, I apologized in advance.  

Seriously, I should not think this is as funny as I do....but I do.  Oh well.  Here are some excerpts.

"A 63-year old hiker was killed while hiking in Olympic National Park Saturday and officials suspect a mountain goat is responsible for his death. Officials said the incident remains under investigation, but early investigations indicate that Boardman’s injuries were sustained after an encounter with a mountain goat. Rangers responding to the incident were able to locate the goat, confirm its identity and kill it.  The goat will be transported to a veterinary pathologist for full analysis."

Some thoughts on this include:

"I did not realize mountain goats were so dangerous." 

"Maybe once it gets a taste of human blood it craves more?"

"so....they located the goat and confirmed its identity.  What did they do, ask for his license and insurance?"

 "Oddly enough, you have no idea how much comes up on a google search for "zombie goat" *shudder*"

• 
  

Jim Bob Duggar is mauled by a saber tooth tiger

What happens when grown women are left alone with plastic childrens toys?  Well, it's not pretty I will tell you that.  Sarah and I felt it was important to involve other grown women in our debauchery but people in our proximity were limited.  So sad that this had to be shared via text message.
Em- SUPRIZE! BUTTSECKS!

Kara- Dude. WTF?
Em- This is what happens when Sarah and I are alone together with childrens toys. LOL.
Kara- LMAO. What is that doll? It looks like Jim Bob Duggar.
Em- We don't know but we think it looks like the kids' principal Mr Burns. LOL.

Jim Bob Duggar, never able to breed again after his unfortunate mauling.
Kara- Poor Jim Bob... lol

It's been 3 years and my thighs are still big enough to earn themselves a boyscout patch

I wrote this status update in 2007.

"Today I walked on the treadmill for 30 minutes, for the second day in a row.

The only way I could get through it was by watching E! News and Chelsea Lately while walking. After 15 minutes my thighs had rubbed together so long that there was chaffing involved. My husband said "Wow, you are walking 2 miles an hour, don't you want to go a little faster?" And I told him, well you better go get a fire extinguisher because my right now my thighs are equal to a boy scout with some flint and a stick. Then I told him to FUCK OFF."

Well, obviously I have advanced. I am pretty sure I have gained 30 pounds and I am still chaffing my thighs while trying to "jog" (and I do use that term loosely) on the treadmill. My husband still runs upwards of 3 miles a day and can eat a quadruple bypass cheeseburger with out gaining weight. I could cry and eat my feelings (lemon cake anyone?) but instead, I will talk myself down by listening to Wesley Willis. Fiesta Jesus, I am sorry that I got fat. I will slim down. Amen. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DILqdF6dmOQ 

It is late and a minion is awake...

For those that would like to picture this our computer is in a small loft area that also serves as a playroom. A hallway is connected to said loft/playroom and Jayden's bedroom is the first room down the hall (so right next to the playroom), then there is a "guest room" (aka the pit of no return), then at the end of the hall is Mia's room. The minions, er, children have been in bed for about 3 hours by now. I am dicking around on the computer trying to avoid the pile of dishes posing a health hazard in my kitchen. Then, I hear it...

A tiny little voice singing....

"I've got your peeeeeniiiisssss... I've got your peeeeeniiiiissss... I'm going to take it downstairs and Jackson will peeeeee-peeee...."

I stop and listen amused because I assume someone is talking in their sleep not only about a penis but giving it to someone else to use to pee. Then, I hear it again. It sounds like Mia, only it is too close to the playroom to be Mia.

I get up, go into Jayden's room and Mia is IN HIS BED with her little mouth right up in his ear singing the above. No wonder poor Jayden doesn't sleep through the night. I'd have nightmares too.

The Overwhelming Powers of the Granny Bible

So, my late mother is going to be a grandmother soon. I know that sounds strange, but my mom died when I was 24 and I am now 29 and knocked up with an illegitimate biracial baby. My mom was the type of person who would have found this hilarious and happy.
In going through some old stuff, I found her old Bible. My mother went through a very religious, devout stage in her life pre-divorce, and this Bible has a total spot of honor in my memory. It is a crusty ass old Bible that has this hideous cream leather zip cover with her initials (RTB) embroidered on the front.
For many moons now, my cholas and I have professed a faith in the powers of the Granny Bible. What, may you ask, is this magical item? Well, I am here today to tell you that the Granny Bible is alive and well and sitting on my night stand. I would like to inform you of the powers of this spiritual wonder.

• Do you think your child is possibly heading down the path of boas, glitter, pumps, and straight up homosexuality? Hit that little blossoming queer with the Granny Bible, and the gay just falls on the floor like a glob of MAC concealer.
• Is someone trying to pimp you? Then smack that bitch with the Granny Bible. It overpowers all pimp juice.
• Is one of your loved ones smoking crack and acting inappropriately? Hit them with the GB and their crack pipe will explode.
• Is someone in your life just generally a fucking asshole and you can't stand them? Put the GB into your purse and brush against them. The GB is so powerful that they will then become cooler and less like a douchecanoe.

Here are some examples of when GB will NOT work for you:

• You are Dr. Laura
• You disrespect the GB in any way
• The leatherette cover is removed from the actual Bible. The cover is the most powerful part.

Please, if you have need of the GB, send postage paid packaging to me along with 1 dozen donuts.

Oops I crapped my pants

This is an oldie, but a goody. This post is the reason Sarah and I met. Plus, it's still relevant. Why? Because I would still rather be fat than an overweight pants pooper. Amen.


I am fat. I want to be skinny. On the other hand, I do not want to poop my pants. That is why I will not be purchasing the new weight loss drug ALLI. Here is a quote that I pulled from an MSNBC article on ALLI :

"(I)’ve pooped my pants 3 times today, and sorry to get descriptive but it even leaked onto the couch at one point!” writes one user. " which can be found at : http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/19587389

There is also a list of side effects on ALLI's website. http://www.myalli.com/howdoesitwork/treatmenteffects.aspx These include:
# You may feel an urgent need to go to the bathroom. Until you have a sense of any treatment effects, it's probably a smart idea to wear dark pants, and bring a change of clothes with you to work
# You may not usually get gassy, but it's a possibility when you take alli. The bathroom is really the best place to go when that happens

OK, how about eating healthy and exercising as opposed to pooping your pants. Im all for losing weight, and I know that eating healthy and exercising are hard (this is why I am still fat), but let me tell you I would rather not poop my pants. It's bad enough to be overwieght. Let alone to be an overweight pants pooper.

MY ZOO


Okay so yesterday I went to a going away party for a teacher friend of mine. She is moving far away from our district and in my mind I am secretly wanting to punch her in the face because she has managed to find a way out. Now I went with a good friend of mine Allie who thinks the same way I do. Some of the people that showed up at the party were not normally people we hang out with...one because they are way younger and two because they still find drinking and hangovers a fun activity. The girl who is throwing the party was actually one of my students 15 years ago and is now a teacher. I love her tons. These younger ones don't always have a lot of tact. I mistakenly admitted that I had six dogs. This led to several questions as to why in the hell would I have that many "inside dogs". You should have seen there face when I also explained that we had 3 cats and a nervous hamster. I then had to tell them about each of the dogs. Now for many of the people there they already had heard this so I tried to get through the explanation fast. Allie mae is a border collie/lab mix and is the queen, she is the growly one and tends to get pissy when the other dogs come close enough to disturb her while she is begging for my food. Abner is a Vizsla who core temp is 1000 degrees and has a metabolism we would all kill for. He is a big lap dog who is constantly searching the house for any crumb of food (He ate a whole plate of hotdogs tonight). We are planning to make him a raw meat treat that will help him pack the pounds on. Next is Boo, the german shorthair/lab mix. She is the leader and the biggest. Boo eats first and then will sit next to the dish so Maisie can eat. She believes she is human, which makes her think that when she lays in our bed she can take as much as she wants. She can often be found laying on the couch on her back with her feet up in the air and her hooha out for the world to see. She also snores horribly. Then there is stormie, a pure bred Border collie who truly loves to herd the other dogs. She loves to be outside but only if the others come with her. Often you will see her come back in the door and nose the other ones out. And if only one comes out and it is not who she wants she will bark at the door until the companion she wants comes out. Her shyness is cute and with her long hair she loves laying in the shower in the basement to keep cool. Next there is Maisie (now by this point you can see the people who have already heard this a million times starting to fade but the others are still hanging on to my every word, so I keep going.) Maisie is a walking irony. She is a mini long-haired weiner dog who is extremely fat. We call her "the snatcher" because even with all the extra pounds she can snatch a poptart and have it eaten before you can catch her. She also sees herself as a big dog and will take on the others. I love watching her run because her ears fly up with every step. She will have the dogs chasing her in circles around the back room couch. She will even turn around and as they are coming at her she will go right through their legs. Lastly is Presley. He is an English Lab with a little black bear in him. He still is at the puppy stage. We have lost many loved shoes to him and every now and then he will have an issue pooping because whatever he swallowed is not wanting to come completely out the other end. Therefore we must step in and help him out. This is not an easy task for me because animal poo makes me want to puke. He is however very greatful when we pull out the 12 inch piece of sock or baby wipe. Now I thought I was done but nooooooooo they have to hear about the cats as well. So I go on to tell them about Binx the tailess cat we rescued from a parade. He too believes he is human. He weighs more than Maisie and maybe Reigan (okay not Reigan but Maisie for sure). He is the most loving cat but he can get a bit overwhelming. And petting he becomes a challege because you will find yourself eating fur because he sheds non-stop. When we comb him I believe if we attached jumper cables to the huge furball we could create a franken cat. Parrot is the little "fatback" twin. She has one jacked up eye that is constantly draining. When we first brought her home she had kennel cough. She sneezed so hard that Shawn ended up with a glob of snot the size of a quarter on his shirt. I laughed, he did not. She has also been nicknamed "the bathroom cat" because whenever I go to the potty she will scratch at the door until I let her in. I will try to sneak past her while she is cat-napping and go up to the upstairs bathroom. Just as I am getting ready to pull my pants down she is scratching at the door. Now while I am peeing this is not a big issue but when pooping she can be a real pain in the ass (no pun intended). Finally shy the constant hacker. She seems to have hairball issues often. Shy loves the night. She will jump our feet at night while we are in bed...not just in bed but after we have been out for a couple of hours. She loves sleeping next to Allie...who tolerates her. Now there was one time she thought it would be funny to play with Boo's tail as Boo was drifting off to sleep. Boo growled and snapped at her to the point that I made Shawn turn on the light and check to see if Shy had just been eaten. She was fine. She is also the softest animal we have. By this time I was tired of hearing about the damn animals myself. (mind you...I told all this in ten minutes) Now the stupid questions come..how often do you vacuum..Me: about 3 times a week. Do you buy a lot of dog food...Me: yes two big bags twice a month. Don't they shed...Me: Yes they do. And the best one...Does your house smell like animals...Me: no it smells fine. Now what I wanted to say....Hell yes it smells like a fucking shit hole! Anyway that was my night last night. I actually did have fun but honestly some people do not get the animal thing. I know we have a lot but they are awesome pets and our lives would not be the same without them.

how's about a little side of grilled nessie sandwich?

last night i made soup for dinner. ambitions soup. okay, that's a lie because we all know chicken stock pretty much cooks itself, but i through in a boat load of fresh veggies so as to feel like i did my mothering job. boy child sees me chopping said veggies and this is how it goes:

boy child: what's for dinner, mom?

me: chicken soup

boy child: chicken in soup just doesn't sound right to me

me: *in head* what the fuck? you never heard of chicken soup, kid? what the hell have i been doing all these years when you get sick? *out loud* you know, like chicken soup when people get sick?

boy child: *stares* so what's that? (as he points to the yellow squash i am hacking away at)

me: squash

boy child leaves at this point. probably to go plant himself in front of the ps3, but you know, it's summer, and letting video games entertain my kids is just how i roll.

fast forward to dinner time. boy child comes in to peer into the bowl of this somehow mysterious and sure to be disgusting chicken soup, because after all , what business does chicken have being in a soup? the horror!

boy child: *face brightens up* mom, i've had this before! i've just never had it with the sasquatch in it before!

i love the smell of cat ass in the morning

so i have a cat. i have two, and they are both pretty much assholes, just in different ways. oh, and i have dogs, too, and again, i am going with asshole on this one as well, but this story is all about my retarded feline, and how she has decided to love me. did i say love? i meant, how she has decided that she will tolerate me enough to not smother me in my sleep. hmm, it occurs to me now i may have mistaken her intentions and that is exactly what she intended to do.

quick background: we adopted this little kitten not too long after i had to let those nice people at the vet murder my beloved cat, kitler. that's right, her name was kitler, like hitler, but with a k, and she was evil. and wonderful. and snorted like a pig due to a large nose tumor. rip, poor dead kitler. so being that i need to replace things in my life that love me and leave immediately, said kitten seemed like a great idea. at first she did all the kitteny things she should have to win my heart.

kitten: lady, look at me, i am chasing this thing. um, what the fuck is this thing and why am i running after it? oh wait, i am a cute tiny baby and you WAAAANT me.

me: (to family) omg, look at the tiny little baby ball of fur. i want it, i am having it.

kitten: yes. yes you are having it (insert evil kitten type laugh)

so we get kitten home, promptly give her a name (which she has still never learned) and let her settle in. at first, it's all fun and games: running kitten, chasing string kitten, generally being so cute you want to squeeze her to death kitten. then something happens. she gets fat. and fatter. and fatter. and i think at this point her head starts to shrink, like at the end of beetlejuice. her little cat eyes start to take on a vacant look and her personality disappears like she is now some kind of pod cat. oh, and did i mention she hates me at this point, too? well she does. or maybe i am exaggerating and she is just indifferent to me. either way, i don't take rejection well so i do what any normal woman who's being rejected does and i throw myself into forcing her to love me. i do this by constantly kissing and hugging and generally throwing myself at her.

fast forward to this saturday morning. i feel fat (she never learned her given name, delilah, so we just call her fat) jump up on the bed. i feel her little cat paw start poking at my chest, followed by her massive bulk standing on my chest. of course at this point i can feel my chest cavity start to cave in under the weight, and i know i might die, but fuck it, my cat LOVES ME! i know it! and just when you think your cat loves you, she sits, tail up, directly down onto your mouth and nose. like the title says...

drum roll please dududududu...or however it goes

my name is rena, and i am an addict. i somehow believe that if you eat a pound of pasta over a 24 hour period, wash it down with pepsi, and cleanse your pallet with 42 cupcakes your ass will not become wider than the office chair you sit it on all day long. i hit bottom when i woke up in a cheap motel surround by twinkie wrappers and styrofoam take out containers, and i didn't even know their names, but i hear there is a youtube video of the night online.

i have been on the wagon about 10 days now, and it's soooo a one day at a time thing. a whole whopping 4 pounds have removed themselves from my body, but dammit, this is just too slow for me. i need instant results! i want to be energetic and thin, like a squirrel on crack. scratch that, squirrels are fat. um, what is thin? okay, wait, if a squirrel does start hittin' the pipe, does it become thin? does it also start wearing ratty cutoffs, a dirty wife beater and selling its ass on the local corner? oh whatever, you know what i mean. i want to be thin, because not looking at your cottage cheese thighs or feeling your belly rolls touch each other leads to instant happiness, wealth, and popularity, right? right?!?!

Want to know what I want to be when I grow up??? LADY GAGA!!!!

ga ga oooooh lala, ga ga oooh lala ga ga oooh lala, it's a bad manstance.
ME: Honey, I think the words are "bad romance"
Emma: No mom. I know lady Gaga and that is not what they say. Its manstance.
Me: what do you think that means? I think that doesn't make sense. I think it says "bad romance" because that makes sense.
Emma: Ya? Well you are LYING. I know the words to Lady Gaga songs and you don't. Good bye.

Epilogue: This child also sings lyrics like "apple bottom jeans, and boots with the ferns, the ferns, the ferns. " and "Chinese like a melody, in my head...." Be warned, these lyrics come with the shaka shaka dance. Which involves incorrect lyrics and seizure like shaking of the booty. We thought "balleray" lessons would help alleviate the shaka shaka dance but so far, they seem to be making it worse. Do you think hip hop dance lessons would be more appropriate?

Small children, fire, and life lessons

Why does fiesta jesus reference the sweaty breasts crack? Well I'll tell ya. The other day, I had on a tank top and I had stuck a lighter in between the girls.....for, you know, lighting citronella candles and such as. Anyway, I was leaning over helping my four year old do something and she grabs the lighter and yells "MOM! DID YOU KNOW YOU HAVE A LIGHTER IN YOUR BREASTS CRACK!" and then she smells it. She hands it back and says: "It smells like sweat" and then she ran off. Lesson from psalm 33:4 Do not let small children grab indiscriminately at your girlie parts. Amen.

Hi. My name is Emily and I have a problem with food. Delicious, delicious food. And bacon. God I love bacon.

Sarah and i have decided that we are starting a support group and 12 step program for people obsessed with thinking about food. We don't care that OEA already exists because, just like everything else we do...ours is better and most importantly, funny. So, Sarah wrote out the 12 steps and a new serenity prayer just for us.

god, give me the strength to resist the donut, the courage to eat raw vegetables, and the wisdom to know the difference. amen.

The 12 steps of the Dear fiesta jesus I love bacon more than my husband or Good god this cake is delicious I must eat the whole pan; group.

1. we admit that we are powerless over sugar, carbs, and fatty sausagy foods and our lives have become unmanageable.

2. came to believe that a power greater than ourselves, namely fiesta and weather jesus, could restore us to a body mass index under 35.

3. made a decision to turn our fat rolls and double chins over to the care of fiesta and weather jesus as we understand them.

4. made a fearless and searching inventory of our stash of granny panties and fat jeans.

5. admitted to fiesta/weather jesus, to ourselves, and to each other the exact nature of our breasts crack sweat.

6. were entirely ready to have fiesta/weather jesus remove all our hidden chocolates that we stash from our children or significant others.

7. humbly asked fiesta/weather jesus to remove at least like 20 pounds so we can go down a pants size, goddammit.

8. made a list of all McDonald's, quickie marts, and taco johns we have abused, and became willing to make amends to all of them by ceasing our patronage.

9. made direct amends to all the sales clerks we have abused verbally when they told us we may want to move up to the next shirt or pants size, except when to do so would cause us to punch them in the face.

10. continue to take personal inventory of our cravings for krispy kreme/sprinkles cupcakes/gas station hot dogs and when we were craving, promptly admit it to the group.

11. sought through booze and cigarettes to improve our conscious connection with fiesta/weather jesus, praying only for knowledge of a 100 calorie pack snack that didn't taste like shit and the power to buy them instead of regular brownies.

12. having had a sugar awakening as a result of these steps, we try to carry these principles to other fat asses and to practice these principles whenever we go to gas stations, when we are traveling, or when we have fucking stresses that make us want to eat fat/sugar/carbs/salt.

I don't know about you but I am not sure these will help. They did, however, cause me to pee my pants a little because I laughed so hard when I read them. Maybe I should go jog a little. Like to my kitchen for some brownies.