Shipping Charges Have Become Outrageous

I took some old school bloggy buddies off my blogroll thingie and it made me sad. Sad that they'd stopped blogging and sad that I hadn't. When I started the blog...well let's just say, we had a different Secretary of State. And there's been two since. Only one of the three had hair worthy of naming a blog after.

But this post isn't meant to be a jaunt down memory lane, oh no. It's meant to be about PICKLES.

A couple of months ago, I threw out a devil-may-care challenge concerning a limerick and some pickles and here it is...so much time later...only one person took me up on it. Stinkypaw wrote me a pickle limerick...and so today I sent her a jar of the good shit in return for this poetic gem:

To write a limerick I thought would be easy,
But now I see it's not that peasey
The things I'll do to taste your pickles
I'll ask, I'll beg but won't suffer thru tickles
Because I woudn't want to be queasy.

By the way, did you know you have to fill out a customs form for CANADA? Ridiculous.


When the postal employee asked if the package contained anything breakable, liquid or perishable...I throughoughly enjoyed saying yes to all three. So Stinkpaw...a glass jar of pickled cucs bobbing along in brine is on its way to you. They stamped 'FRAGILE" on it, so I know that means it won't break.

Viva la awesome blog buddies.

This Is You All Up In My Business

This week blows. You ever have a week that just blows? And by the time it's Wednesday night, all you want to do is drink old wine and get through the next day so you can go with your coworkers to the Tillamook Macaroni & Cheese cookoff contest @ Kell's Irish Pub and drink yourself into overeating. That's all.

By the way, have you seen The Night of the Hunter? Rent it. Right now. I'm not even joking.

Consider that my review. I'm awesome.

AND for some reason we seem to have free HBO this week. Of all the bad timing. It's like the cable gods WANT me to punch them in the nads.

In other self-involved news, I have to go back on evil evil birth control pills because I keep getting hemorrhagic ovarian cysts. I'm not excited. I stopped taking hormonal birth control several years ago because I was the 5% that experienced horrible side effects for EVERY METHOD ON THE MARKET. But let me just say...hemorrhagic cysts are the devil. And I'm not talking about the Burgess Meredith or Elizabeth Hurley devil. I'm talking about the Tim Curry from Legend devil. You don't fuck around with that. Ever.
So now I will probably gain even more weight and go up another fucking cup size (I'm going to have to start wearing a back brace), but I'm sure Brendan will enjoy the halting of hormonal mood swings that inspire me to call him a girl to his face. And I'll actually have less pain in my life overall. So that's good. Plus no accidental babies. Don't want those until I'm ready to buy them.