Tag Archives: Humor

Conversations Between Internet Trolls

We're starving!
We’re starving!

It doesn’t happen much with the nice bloggers on WordPress, but lately I’ve experienced trolls stirring up trouble on The Huffington Post. So I did what any neurotic writer would do — I pretended to be a Troll myself and start a Support Group with a sign, “Trolls ‘R Us!”

Even though “Do Not Feed The Trolls” is the common mantra, I put egg-rolls in bowls for trolls. I’m waiting for the first Troll to stroll in right now.

Me: Hi and welcome to our group!

Troll 1: Thanks! I can’t wait to strike again! I’m on a roll but can’t seem to stay out of the gutter.

Troll 2: (rubs hands together) That’s the kinda language I love to hear from us Trollers.

Troll 1: Trollers? I misheard. I thought this was a group for Bowlers.

Troll 3: Get outa here. Here’s my problem. I have a hard time being subtle with my inflaming and instigating comments.  I was the middle child in my family where I had to blatantly act out to get any attention. Any advice? I’m constantly getting blocked from leaving comments.

Troll 5: I just hit ’em hard with random rants on childhood vaccination topics. You won’t be exposed there. You’ll just look like a die-hard believer. Try asking if they give their dog a rabies vaccination? Stirs things up real good!

Troll 2: Excellent tip. Wanna ride home with me? In the Troll Trolley. And then we can bake Nestle Troll House cookies!

Troll 6: Excuse me, do you have a fireplace?

Me: Yes. Are you cold?

Troll 4: Cold?? Are you for real? Any legit Troll would know that was code for wanting to “fan the flames!”

Me: Of course I’m for real! Since I was little and read the fairytale, “3 Billygoats Gruff,” I’ve had an urge I couldn’t control — to enroll to be a troll —  Having the whole soul of a troll became my goal.

Troll 2:  Alright then. Let’s get on with it. Be warned: You’re here with some heavy hitters. I’m on Parole for being a Troll.

Me: So let’s talk about our motivation for trolling, shall we? I imagine we all love a good controversy, right? But why don’t we all just go into politics?

Troll 6: Personally my wife left me and I miss her cooking. I spend my time trolling food blogs and arguing about recipes, waiting for a female blogger to invite me to a home-cooked meal. I’ll type, “Adding soy sauce to salmon really sucks. It’s too much sodium!” It drives the gourmet women wild.

Troll 3: Oh yes, I’ve read you before. You’re the Troll on “Who Stole My Sushi Roll.” You do nice work.

Troll 6: Thanks. And I’ve seen you as well. You’re The Poll Troll. You hang around on surveys and make fun of the results. You really got ‘em good last week about banning phone calls on American flights.

Me: It’s so nice to be noticed by someone, isn’t it? So is that why we do troll? The Recognition?

Troll 4: I don’t know about the rest of you, but there was zero job satisfaction when I heckled comics in clubs. So I quit. Collected unemployment for a while until I reinvented myself on the Internet.

Troll 7: Maybe you just never hit the big time. I got thrown out of a Seinfeld routine for shouting, “What the hell is this dumb bit about? Absolutely nothing!”

Troll 4: I prefer writing down my insults. They leave their mark longer.

Me: So you believe the pen is mightier than the sword?

Troll 2: Don’t give us your holier than thou literary crap. What kinda Troll are you?

Me: Um, I’m kinda like Shrek.

Troll 2:  He was an Ogre. He wasn’t a troll. And neither are you!

Troll 3:  Yeah, she’s too nosy, asking so many questions. We’ve been had. I think she’s actually a Knoll.

Troll 4: Knoll = A Kindly Narc for Trolls?  Nah, I think she’s a therapist!

Me:  Look guys. I just feel that a life of bullying isn’t for us. Didn’t we have enough fun stealing lunches on the playground? Being a troll takes its toll when it leaves a hole.

Troll 5:  She’s constantly rhyming, ya know?  And those cutsie puns. This dame is really some kinda corny lifestyle blogger.

Troll 6:  Oh yeah. I know her! I’d recognize those hot flashes anywhere.

Troll 2:  Hey, it’s Little Miss Menopause. The jig is up! Look at her super dry, wrinkly skin.

All Trolls:  Oh boy – – you ain’t seen nothing yet. You think we’re just gonna leave embarrassing stuff on your blog about moisturizers? Wait till you hear what we’re gonna comment on when you blog about “Sex At Age 40.”

(Ahhh, I love these guys.  They’re welcome anytime. They think I’m 40!?)

Me: Let’s sing…..”For they’re some Jolly Good Trollers….which nobody can deny!”

Visit me today on the wonderful website, “Beyond Your Blog” because I’ve interviewed editors to see what makes a great blog title!! Click HERE.

Things You Do Daily Count As Real Writing!

This is substantial writing!

This is substantial writing!

You may not realize it, but you’re a professional writer every single day. Here are ways to elevate the work you already do to get noticed and possibly garner yourself a book or movie offer!

GROCERY LISTS:  First of all, always give them a title. Try “More Than Just Food!’  or “My Hungry Family: Must They Eat Every Single Day?”

Here’s my sample grocery list with a creative spin from yesterday.

  • Bagel Thins  (The greatest thing since sliced bread!)
  • Loreal Preference Hair Color (ha! I’m not covering up gray. I’m actually intentionally dying my hair gray!) Click HERE. 
  • Chips Ahoy cookies (Can I fool the PTA into thinking they’re home baked?)
  • Kitty Litter (Our cat died 8 years ago. Huh? Whoa…mystery….intrigue! )
  • Milk (Forget “Got Milk?” How about “Got Milkshake?”)
  • Ice-cream (Ahh, now we’re talking!)

MESSAGES YOU LEAVE AROUND THE HOUSE:  Never discount any of these notes.

  • “If you take a brownie from this platter, I WILL know. Even if you rearrange them.  And don’t justify dark chocolate is now healthy for you so it can be for breakfast. These are for our new neighbors to welcome them!”
  • “Please make sure door is closed so cat doesn’t get out. (And YES! Our cat has been dead for 8 years. But nobody seems to care that I just don’t want flies in the house.)”
  • “Please Take Out This Kitchen Garbage Because Contrary To What You Learned In Art Class, This Is Not Surrealism.”

RECIPES:  Especially Rock Cornish Game Hen, Buffalo Chix Wings or Grilled Chix Tenders ingredients.  Hey, we’re talking Classic “Chick Lit!” here.

LOVE NOTES:  Either to your significant other or to your kids.  Copyright them!  Try “You had me at Hell!” and “Love means never having to say, “I’m sorry but I hate calamari!”

MISC. SCRIBBLES:

  • “Sorry I hit your back bumper.  Can you call me so we can settle this for cash?  My husband will kill me if our premiums go up”
  • “Please excuse Zachary from P.E. today.  I washed his white gym shorts with our red bath towels. Yes, again.”
  • “Have a great day. Good luck on math test and please bring home the tupperware which holds the carrots you won’t eat.”

FORMS: They all count! Permission Slips, Insurance Claims, Sweepstakes Entries, Library Card Applications, Referral letters, etc.

  • “Please pick me!  I never win anything. I need this 3 day trip to Nevada because “Viva Las Vegas!” is my favorite Elvis song. If my voicemail is full when you call this number, please call back.  My kids ramble.”
  • “I give permission to my son/daughter to go on the zoo field trip on May 4th and to punch that Brandon Katz in the nose if he calls her ‘tuna breath’ one more time.”
  • “To Whom It May Concern: This is a testimonial for Dr. Craig Spanky, OB/GYN. Do not hesitate to put your feet in his stirrups as he always warms his speculum.”

See?  You haven’t been giving yourself the credit you deserve.  You’re working overtime in the writing field.  Now go take a well-deserved break!

For anyone who can handle my more serious side – – please visit me on the magazine XO JANE right HERE and leave a supportive comment if you like. It means a lot to me!

TOTALLY COUNTS!

THIS TOTALLY COUNTS!

News To Confuse and Amuse: Never Accuse Tom Cruise

picture-image-california-tom-cruise-celebrity-look-alike-impersonator-TC1450A wide rash of hold-ups and burglaries has swept the nation using a ploy that authorities have dubbed  “The Celebrity Look-Alike Belief Thief.” Victims are fooled into believing they’ve met or befriended a famous movie star and then ceremoniously robbed.

Rocky Rhoades from Los Angeles, California is the latest victim to have his wallet taken and he is incredulous.

Actually it was my own idea to hand over my billfold. I didn’t have any paper to write on and I knew my wife would never forgive me if I didn’t get Tom Cruise’s autograph. So I handed him my vinyl wallet and a Sharpie. He scrawled, “Best wishes to the lovely Misty Rhoades” and then we got to talking about the mean pot roast she cooks and I invited him to supper, promising dessert would be Sara Lee pound cake.

Rhoades states it never occurred to him that Mr. Cruise had better things to do than come to his house for dinner because Mrs. Rhoades is a fabulous cook. And nobody doesn’t like Sara Lee.  It was only when the carrots and potatoes coagulated on the dinner plates that he began to suspect not only was “Cruise” late but he wasn’t returning his wallet. Ever.

Police are asking the public to be wary and less starstruck when they spot these unsavory characters impersonating Tom Cruise, Justin Bieber, Harrison Ford, John Travolta, Michael Caine and in a bizarre twist, Elvis Presley.

Ida Clair, head teller at Union Bank in Brooklyn, NY says she was handed a note by Elvis which read, “I Can’t Help Falling in Love With You. I just Wanna be your Teddy Bear.  Give me $200.”

I batted my eyes and answered, “I don’t wanna be a tiger ’cause tigers play too rough, I don’t wanna be a lion ’cause lions ain’t the kind you love enough!” Then I handed him two crisp one-hundred dollar bills, and he said, “Thank you very much” in that Elvis-like way. It was such a thrill. As he exited, I announced over our PA system, “Elvis has left the building.”

Clair says she was astounded at how slim and trim Mr. Presley looks these days, but she justifies that his calorie intake is probably lower after death. Certainly after the suspect is apprehended, he’ll be requested to sing, “Jailhouse Rock.”

The NYPD has issued a statement that people should not be lulled into a false sense of security thinking there are only male celebrity lookalikes involved. There have been recent sightings of Julia Roberts, Beyonce and Maureen McCormick, the actress who played Marcia Brady on the hit 70’s sitcom.

Brock Lee of Boise, Idaho stated that he knew something was up when Ms. McCormick laughed.

She walked into our house matter-of-factly insisting “something suddenly came up” and she needed our fine china, service for twelve. We were huge fans and so we handed it to her but when I did my “Ohhh! My nose!” impression, she dissolved into a fit of giggles. Everyone knows the real Marcia Brady is so sick of being ridiculed by that shtick that she’d never even crack a smile. But by that point she’d absconded with our crockpot and a set of sterling silverware which was a wedding gift from our dog’s breeder who ironically resembles Alice, the maid.

In this rare interview footage with one of the other female culprits, we’re just beginning to learn more details about the origination of this vast “Celebrity Lookalike Belief Thief” string of criminal activity. Surprisingly, the whole crime ring seems to have begun quite innocently enough. You could almost say it was just blowin’ in the wind.

Ever since I can remember, I was mistaken for Mary from the famous folksinging group, “Peter, Paul & Mary.” All I had to do was learn the lyrics to “Puff the Magic Dragon” and find two men to play Peter and Paul and I’d have it made in the shade, entertaining at cocktail parties. That’s when my obsession with hammers begin. Every day I’d belt out, “If I had a hammer…” spending all my money in hardware stores. So I started singing, “Where have all my dollars gone?” and Paul kindly loaned me $300 for food. I didn’t know how I’d ever pay him back – – but that’s when the idea hit me.  I could rob Peter to pay Paul!

This unethical Mary lookalike is now under arrest and in the process of being flown to a prison in Chicago.  You might say she’s “leaving on a jet plane.” Stay safe everyone!

Little Miss Menopause Reporting

I Spy With My Little Eye Your Big, Fat Lie!

Wait till they hear about the consistency and color of this stuff back at corporate!

Wait till they hear about the consistency and color of this stuff back at corporate!

My entire world was turned completely upside-down last night at a local Chinese take-out called “The Mandarin Wok.” As I stood in line to pay my check, I offered the customer behind me the basket of fortune cookies sitting on the counter. She scrutinized it, wrinkled up her nose, then pulled out a little notebook and wrote, “crumbled!“ under a picture of this:images (4)

Winking conspiratorially at me, she whispered, “I’m a Mystery Diner.” I returned the one-eyed gesture knowingly, muttering “Ohhh” under my breath, while forming my lips into a perfect circle.

I raced home and couldn’t Google the “Mystery Diner” term fast enough. Thank goodness for fortunes because I never would’ve discovered this clandestine phenomenon if she had simply muttered, “That’s the way the cookie crumbles!”

Here’s the scoop. Ready? Apparently there are “Consumer Spies” out there getting paid!

Job Description: Pretend to be hungry (so far I easily qualify without play-acting!) while grading and taking notes on food quality, ambience and service. Report back to the restaurant owner so they can see how their employees are doing.

Really?? And she looked like such a typical, ordinary Szechwan Garlic-Chicken Eater to me! Immediately my suspicions were aroused, wondering whom else in my life was a huge impostor?

My Stylist: Was she a legitimate beautician or could she be a “Mystery Shampooer” employed by Pantene to evaluate whether the conditioner I use in my shower gives me the silky fullness the tube promises. Yes, she must be a fraudulent stylist — that explains why she cut my bangs so short last time. And she’s always pushing Vidal Sassoon hair care products on me. Testing my loyalty to Proctor & Gamble, no doubt. I wonder if P & G has been made aware of my split ends?

My Babysitter: She may look like your average teenage vixen with an iPod and Justin Bieber’s name tattooed on her big toe, but what if she’s secretly a caseworker from our government’s Child Protective Services agency, evaluating my parenting skills? My mind flashes on an untouched gallon of Mint ‘n Chip ice-cream — plus none of the Pop-Tarts were missing after I returned from my therapy session last week. What normal teenage babysitter would leave those items uneaten while the little kids were sound asleep? In fact, I also recall discovering a surprise bonus of Frosted Flakes in my pantry. I never buy that brand. Not only did she NOT eat our junk food, but she brought us more? That must be it! The CPS agency instructed her to put “Tony The Tiger” there to see if I’d break down one morning and feed my kids crap for breakfast, instead of taking time to make omelets. Next time she “babysits” she’ll measure how much was ingested. She probably also counted our eggs for further evidence. OMG, my kids will end up in a foster home because I didn’t jumpstart their day with wholesome goodness! Or she could just be a “Mystery Flake” from the Kellogg’s corporation rating their “sogginess in milk.”

My Carpet Cleaner: After he steams my shag rugs, he always advises my family to remove our tennis shoes and leave them by the front door. As he departs, I betcha he checks out our worn soles and reports durability issues directly to the executives at Adidas Inc.

My Ex-Sister-in-law Houseguest:  Sister-in-law, my foot! After all, I don’t have any real proof that she was actually born to the same parents as my ex-husband was. And for weeks now, she’s been sleeping in the spare room (until she supposedly gets back on her feet) complimenting me on how soft our bedsheets feel. I wonder how much $$ Tide detergent is paying her per night?

The Piano Teacher: Ain’t no qualified music specialist who could be THIS patient – – never once wincing when my daughter hits sour notes when playing chopsticks. And I’ve observed her frowns as she swipes her finger across the ¼ inch thick layer of dust on our piano bench before sitting down. Hmmph. Merry Maids thinks they’re so smart, checking up this way. Little do they know — I actually fired their cleaning crew 3 weeks ago. So it’s actually MY housekeeping skills the Piano Teacher has been assessing.

Landscaper & Mailman:  There’s a collaboration going on between these two, I can just feel it!  The reason the mailman always says, “your rosebushes are wilting” or “your lawn looks greener since I was here last,” when he walks up to my porch to deliver mail is because he’s actually employed by my landscaping company to check up on the gardener’s planting abilities. And by the same token, the gardener is always glancing at his watch when the mailman pulls up in his little truck, because he calls the Post-Office with documentation of the mailman’s inefficient schedule. It’s diabolical!

My Boyfriend:  Well, I’m onto him now!  After our next wild romp in the bedroom, won’t he be shocked when he asks, How things were and if there’s anything more he can do for me? And I’ll blurt out, “Aha! They sent you from The Masters & Johnson Research Institute, didn’t they?!”

From Procrastination To ProBLASTination (Just Do It!)

procrastinateHave you heard that placing gym clothes by your bed will coax you into exercising first thing in the morning? Some magazine articles even recommend sleeping in your workout attire. I already have nightmares about The Treadmill and Elliptical Monster, so I can’t imagine waking up, glancing in the mirror and thinking, “Alright! I’m already wearing my shorts and sports bra. 24 Hour Fitness Center, here I come!”

Nevertheless, based on this theory of subliminal suggestion (where your brain gets primed to do the activity the object represents) here are some “unusual” ways you can get in the mood for stuff you’d rather not do.

10 Unique Ways To Motivate Yourself to Do Things You Hate!

  1. Wear a French Maid costume. Within an hour you’ll crave dusting all your knickknacks with one of those cute feather dusters. (Or else you’ll succumb to “His” sexual advances and your bedroom will get even messier than it already was.)
  1. Put on a little hat and badge like fast food workers wear. It won’t be long before you’re drawn into the kitchen, preparing food with rapid-fire efficiency. Beware of that same “Testosterony Guy” (from the French Maid scenario above) placing his order for a Quickie.

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    Let me at your Knickknacks !

  1. Make a paper airplane or try some origami shapes. After all that folding fun, don’t be surprised when you’re compelled to tackle an entire clean load of laundry from the dryer.
  1. Play Monopoly and lose. That’s right, let your opponents clean out your entire money stash — even the twenty-dollar bill you stuffed down your bra. This will entice you to pay your bills. And since it’s that time of year, you’ll be seduced into doing your taxes as well!
  1. Sleep with your toothbrush under your pillow. For added incentive, spread Crest minty gel on your cheeks, chin, and forehead for an overnight facial mask that’ll have you waking up inspired to get a cavity filled at the dentist.
  1. Spray on a little perfume or cologne. Spritz some hairspray on your tresses. Squirt some room freshener in the air. Aren’t these spray bottles fun? Now you can’t wait to Windex all the mirrors and glass surfaces in your house, can you?
  1. Underwear works wonders! Don’t you slip on satin panties under your work clothes and then smile at your secret sexual desires? So just swap the lace undies for Granny Panties — and you’ll finally go volunteer in a retirement home. Don a “G-string” and at last, you’ll take that guitar in for tuning. Or slide into “Little Mermaid” underwear and you’ll give your kids those swim lessons. There is unlimited PPP! (Potential Panty Possibilities)
  1. Watch all of Colin Farrell’s and Colin Firth’s movies. When writing, liberally punctuate with semicolons and colons. There you go! You’re now in the perfect frame of mind to schedule that colonoscopy.
  1. Scrutinize your head closely, looking for split ends or gray strands and yank them out. Not only will your hairstyle benefit, you’ll feel a sudden urge to go pull weeds from your garden.
  1. Press flowers between the pages of a heavy dictionary. Read the classic children’s book, Flat Stanley. Crush some garlic. Use a Panini machine. Alrighty, now off you go for your overdue mammogram!

    I'm suddenly in the mood for pancakes!

    “I’m suddenly in the mood for pancakes!”

Should You Have a Soul Makeover?

We have some wrinkle cream for you!

Well then we have some wrinkle cream for you!

Women in our society are in a no-win situation and it’s gotten out of hand. First the media destroys our self-esteems by pointing out all the things that are physically wrong with us. Next the beauty industry and cosmetic surgeons (who conveniently sponsor the media with their advertising!) sell us their expensive solutions to “fix our problems.”

I recently decided to reject this crazy system and focus my time and energy (but not my money, since there’s nothing to buy!) on my inner essence instead. I read books, kept journals, took long walks on the beach and fostered close connections with family and friends. Everything was going swimmingly until last week when I stumbled upon an online website for Soul Makeovers.

Immediately I envisioned “before and after” pictures, along with thunderous applause on the Oprah show as my Spirit strutted onto the stage (doing the Soul Stroll Shuffle?) in updated clothing, hair and makeup. Right? Wildly curious, I called the number.

“Soul By Nicole, can I help you?”

Me: Hi there. I was just checking to see what your gimmick was? Are you selling timeshares in Hawaii or um, sexual favors?

Nicole: No gimmicks. But oh dear, you sound like such a poor lost soul.

Me: Nope! I’ve done my share of soul-searching. I’m good.

Nicole: What about cleansing your soul?

Aha! Here it comes. There’s a battery operated exfoliation brush with expensive soaps! I just knew it.

Nicole: You can start by baring your soul to me.

Ooh! R-rated stuff. See? I told you so! Massage parlor is just around the corner, wait and see.

Me: Well Nicki girl, it’s like this. I’m sure we’d be kindred souls, but I’m gonna pass on all your promotional junk.

Nicole: I’m not selling anything. But confession is good for the soul. And I promise not to tell a living soul.

Alright so maybe I’m too suspicious. Sounds innocent so far. She just wants to have a little girl talk, maybe confide in each other. What’s the harm in that? I told her I was in.

Nicole: That’s the spirit! Let’s meet for lunch. I know a good place for soul food. When did you last feed your soul?

Cleansing and feeding. Now it’s all adding up. Luxury Spa packages! Betcha she works on commission.

At the restaurant, Nicole orders filet-of-sole on an onion roll. I order the salad bowl with an egg roll.

Me: Nice to meet you. I rode the Soul Train here. I thought maybe you’d suggest lunch in Korea?

Nicole looks blank.

Me: (elbowing her) You know, Seoul Korea. Ha-ha-ha.

Nicole: Oh, you’re a droll soul.

Me: Yes, I write humor. Can I pour you some water or should I just pour my soul out to you instead?

Nicole: Let me ask the questions here. I’m taking a poll. What’s your soul goal?

Me: Well I want to be a famous writer. Oh yeah, and I’m trying to get away from commercialism and buying another tube of lipstick.

Nicole: Actually it’s the eyes that are the window to the soul.

Me: Yep. I don’t want mascara either.

Nicole: Have you thought about a soul-mate?

An online dating service. I shoulda known she was a matchmaker!

Nicole: Someone you can love with all your heart and soul. Share a soul kiss with?

Me: I already have a man. Maybe you know him? Old King Cole. He was a merry old soul.

Nicole: Well bless your soul, you are quite the little comic, aren’t you?

Me: C’mon Soul Sister, the jig is up. I don’t have time for this. Let’s rock and roll your soul. Whatcha selling?

Nicole: I’m not the one selling anything. You are.

Me:  Me? What am I selling?

Nicole: It’s obvious you’re a tormented soul. So there’s someone I want you to meet. . .

Lucifer: Name your price!

Me: Why you little devil, you. I wish you would’ve been upfront from the start. I already sold my soul long ago. To become a writer.

"Fetch me Little Miss Menopause!"

“Forget my pipe. Fetch me Little Miss Menopause!”

If Lingerie Could Talk . . .

photo (23)Loudspeaker: Welcome to Lingerie Anonymous where we raise our Underawareness. Females use, misuse, and abuse us. We get hung, flung, wrung, sprung, and molested by his tongue. Whether we’re sexually exploited or put through the spin cycle, it’s our duty to speak out.  Now please join me in reciting “The Sanitary Prayer.”

Help us accept the things we cannot change . . . like thrift store underwear, pantie-liners, and the way she’d rather toss us than wash us.

Loudspeaker: At this time, I’d like to turn the meeting over to Victoria’s Secret Pink Boy Shorts for a few  announcements.

VS Pink Boy Shorts: The votes are in for our new name. From here on, we’ll be known as “The Delicates.” I’m sorry but “The Intimate Apparels” didn’t win. Too old fashioned.

Strapless Bra: Who counted our ballots?

VS Pink Boy Shorts: Woolite did. And I think we can all trust Woolite with “The Delicates.”photo (17) VS Pink Boy Shorts: Also our guest speaker was involved in a tragic accident and won’t make it today. It’s a shame because she found her true purpose and was quite inspirational. May she breast in peace.

Minimizer: Meh. What’s all the flap about? Just another Nursing Bra. You’re always making something out of nothing. An infant spit up on her while playing Peek-a-boob, so they hung her out to dry. Big whoop.

Strapless Bra: If you’re done minimizing maternity, I have an important confession. After months of wriggling my way down to her waist just five minutes after she puts me on, I’ve come to the conclusion that I actually identify as a garter belt.

Negligee: The Trans-Undergarment meeting is down the hall. It’s a rough road, but if you know deep down you’re really a retro sex object for men, you can slowly transition. Who wants to talk next?

Padded Pushup Wonderbra: I’ll go. I need to get this off my chest. I’m feeling deflated and on the brink of collapse. All the deception gets me down. I support her knockout knockers in low cut tops on date nights, and I’m all about amazing cleavage pics on Facebook. But at some point, both my “Girls” gotta be more authentic.

Sports Bra:  I can relate to the fantasy not matching the reality. Every morning, she plucks me determinedly from the drawer and I think,“Hooyah, a real workout! Jogging by the lake, some treadmill action, or calisthenics.” But within ten minutes I’m cooling my seamless cups at the smoothie bar while she runs her mouth, not her legs. The woman has zero discipline. Athlete Shmathlete.

Training Bra: Cheer up, maybe they’ll ban bras or burn them again?

Demi-Cup: Nah, going braless was a big flop. But what do you know? Are you even mature enough to be here?

Underwire Bra: I’d like a turn please before it gets down to the wire. I’m so angry, I could poke someone’s eye out. I hate that ‘Wicked” Show. She’s always singing, “Defying Gravity” whenever she puts me on. It’s enough to make a bra go haywire.

Animal Print Undies: And how many times must she “meooow” or belt out Katy Perry’s “Roar” song? She thinks she’s so wild.

Red lacy bikinis: Ooh la la. We’re gonna get some!

Walmart 5 Pack Special: Sluts.

Convertible Bra: Listen, if it makes you feel any better. . . I’ve got nine different positions and I can only remember four. She keeps wearing this complex backless sundress — the classic booby trap for bras!

Black Cotton Underwear: Look, you brassieres have it easy. In fact it’s the breast job ever. When I come out of the closet, you can bet it means one thing. Stains are in my future. And we all know what kind, too. Let’s face it — I’m just sacrificial panties.

Granny Panties: At least you all see the light of day. Draped seductively over her dressing room chair or posing for a selfie. I’m a shut-in. Bottom of the pile. Every once in a while, I’m allowed out under sweatpants. It’s elder abuse, I tell you!

Bathing Suit Bottom: I don’t know what you’re all complaining about. I wouldn’t even have to come to these groups if she’d just do her damn laundry once in a while.

Men’s Boxer Shorts: I know this isn’t a co-ed meeting, but man I hope he’ll reclaim me one day. There’s only so many Lifetime movies and Ben & Jerry’s binges a fellow can take. I’ll be quiet now and I promise not to flirt with Super Frilly Shit today.

Super Frilly Shit: Well, I haven’t made much progress with my issues. Just to catch up the newcomers . . . she bought me for an illicit, steamy affair but there was no way I could lay flat under those skinny jeans. Man, what was that chick thinking? You can’t muffle a ruffle. Nowadays I pride myself on being passive aggressive – – I can make that bitch itch like nobody’s business!

Slip: I think we should lighten things up a bit with a joke. I was a great last minute Halloween costume this past year. She pinned words on me like “Psychology” and “Ego” and “Id.”

Men’s Boxer Shorts: What the hell for?

Slip: I was a “Freudian Slip.”

Walmart Special: Ha Ha. But it ain’t no laughing matter. My self-esteem is completely shot. Along with my elastic. I’m the underwear your mother warns you not to wear in case of a traffic accident. Tattered and torn — I’m just hoping she’ll march for “Fray Pride Week.”

Thong: Well I have a classic identity crisis. I swear I used to be a generic name for beach flip-flops. Tell me I’m not the only one who remembers that? Anyhow I’m cool with all the dental floss jokes, even a little cheek suffocation, but I draw the line at being edible. WTF?!

Nude & Seamless: You should try being invisible. I can’t believe . . . Shhh, someone’s coming. Oh I just knew this would happen. I’m afraid we’ve said too much already.

SPANX: Quiet down everyone! Get your big girl panties on and deal with it. I’ve had just about enough of your bellyaching, thigh slapping, body snarking, woe-is-me crap. If I come into your homes, you’ll all be out of work so fast it’ll make your thread spin. Every last one of you. Where’s the gratitude?

Men’s Boxer Shorts: Leave it to Spanx to pull ranks. Everybody give thanks to Spanx. Ya buncha Skanks!

All Lingerie: All hail to the Queen of Shapewear. Spanx rules!

Loudspeaker:  Talk about Control Issues.

Adult Preschool?(Puppets, Painting, & Puzzles . . . Oh My!)

photo 3 (1)Simon Says . . .  Adults go to preschool!  Don’t believe me? Last year the very first preschool for grown-ups (in the world) opened up RIGHT HERE.  So I enrolled. And even though some of my classmates’ arthritis seems to have flared up while finger-painting, we have a blast.

Here’s a typical day’s curriculum.

Morning Circle Time: Calendar – Can you actually remember what day it is? Weather- Let’s look outside and talk about rain. Will your bursitis act up? Stretching – Can you touch your toes? Should you??

Song Time: Wrinkle, Wrinkle Little Scar, If You’re Peppy and You Know It, Middle-Age MacDonald Had an Organic Farm, On Top of Old Fogey, Do Your Boobs Hang Low?`

Sharing Time: Swap good dental plans, a referral for a rheumatologist, or an effective eye cream for crow’s feet!

Show & Tell: We’re proud of ourselves! — Susan cut calories and fat from her meatloaf recipe. Carol got new yoga pants. Richard is finding himself in therapy.

Snack Time: Non-GMO kale chips sprinkled with Metamucil and lactose-free skim milk.

Playground Time: Today we’re hanging from monkey bars to tighten flabby arms.

Arts ‘n Crafts: Use Play-Doh to form heel inserts or arch supports, String beads to make chains/necklaces for our reading glasses.

Story Time: Goodnight Prune, Poky Little Progesterone, The Little Pension That Could

Block Time:  Who can build the highest tower with their prescription bottles and diuretic containers?

Nap Time: Bring your own orthopedic pillow.

Nursery Rhyme Time:  Jack & Jill went Over the hill — Mary, Mary, still eating dairy! — Hickory, dickory dock, We can’t turn back the clock.

Closing Circle Game: “I spy with my little eye . . .  some bad hair dye, facelift gone awry, elbows that are dry, someone no longer spry!”photo 2 (5)

In the few weeks since I’ve attended class, I’ve noticed slight changes at home with my own children. Here, listen in and see for yourself.

12-Year-Old Daughter:  (on her cell) Can’t you see I’m on the phone? How many times have I told you it’s not polite to interrupt?

Me: It’s just that I have a headache. Could you keep it down?

12-Year-Old Daughter: Don’t you take that tone with me! You’re just cranky because you haven’t eaten.

Me:  You’re right.  We should go out for salads.

10-Year-Old Son:  When we want your opinion, we’ll ask for it.

Me: (hanging head) Sorry.

10-Year-Old son:  Look at me when I’m speaking to you. If you can get your shoes on before I can count to three, maybe we’ll go for pizza.

Me:  Oh goody.  Can I get a diet coke?

12-Year-Old Daughter:  We’ll see.

At restaurant:

Me: (Checking out some cute guys at the next table) Wow!

17-Year-Old Daughter: You can look at those things, but don’t touch.

Me: (taking out my calorie counter book, kitchen scale, and diet salad dressing in container) I wonder what I can order that’s on my Weight Watcher’s plan.

17-Year-Old Daughter: (to Waiter)  I apologize for her behavior.  She’s special needs.  ADHD. (Annoying Dame Having Dinner)

All in all, I think I’ll stick with my new preschool program because I finally know what I want to be when I grow up . . . a five-year-old.  Hey, it can happen!

Is youth wasted on the young? How long do you give this new business? What’s Your favorite memory from this age?  Or just leave me an original comment.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/learning/

photo 1 (6)

When Their Turn-Ons Are Your Turn-Offs!

photo (22)There’s something sexually explicit (and illicit!) going on with your mobile device! It’s called Kindu and it’s a Smartphone app with the above image being a screenshot from just one brilliant suggestion it gave me.

Kindu was my inspiration for a humor article I’ve just had published RIGHT HERE, but which is probably a tad too racy for my regular followers — so you’ll need to depart from my blog to read it. The website put it under the category “Getting Naughty” but I don’t know how naughty you can actually get when you still use vocabulary like “naughty.”

I hope you get some laughs and will leave me some comments at the risqué and edgy website called BLUNTmoms because it will greatly benefit me. Indeed next time around, I hope they’ll hire me to write a piece called, “How Toaster Ovens Can Help You Get Lucky, Even Without a Bagel in Sight!”

Meanwhile here are the easy directions for Kindu should you ever venture into installation territory.

Using Kindu is as simple as 1-2-3.

1) Rate the sexual idea as either “definitely”, “no thanks” or “maybe.”

2) Next, let your partner privately rate the same series of ideas on their own cellphone.

3) Kindu cross-matches your responses and lists ideas you both rated as “Definitely” or “Maybe” in a common category.

The beauty is if your partner gave a “no thanks” to something that you rated positively, they will never know. Therefore with Kindu, your SICK (I added that part!) secrets are safe. Kindu only reveals fantasies that both you and your partner agree on.

SO NOBODY HAS TO KNOW WHAT A TWISTED PERSON YOU ARE!

Have sex in my garage?!! The Kindu authors must have known there's a cardboard Eiffel tower in there. (Don't ask why!) How romantic!

Have sex in my garage?!! The Kindu authors must have known there’s a cardboard Eiffel tower in there. (Don’t ask why!) How romantic!

Well, suffice it to say, “I can kinda do Kindu.”  But not without some funny side affects and consequences. Again, you can read about it all right HERE!

On a much cleaner topic than both the sexual post and my garage, (but still closely related to electronics and the online world) — please also join me on a terrific webzine called, “Mrs. Muffintop” as I delve into what goes through the mind of a computer Hacker as they peruse your personal and private email accounts! Just CLICK HERE. And comments there are most welcome as well!

And as always, thank you for supporting humor that occasionally goes sideways. Okay, alright, completely upside-down.

Naughtily yours,

Stephanie, AKA Little Miss Menopause

Come to a Commercial Character Cocktail Convention!

tv-commercial-break-workouts-img-15684 (1)Don’t change that channel!  The guest list is distinctive, the drinks flowing, the rumors flying – – we join our gathering in full swing. Who might you recognize and remember??

Doublemint Twin:  Don’t look now, but I think Colonel Sanders is totally chicken you out!

Sun-Maid Raisin Girl: Oh gawd — not him! That’s not sour grapes.  He’s just so old, I should introduce him to my Aunt.

Doublemint Twin:  How is Jemima these days?  She was always so sweet.

Sun-Maid Raisin Girl:  She got herself in a sticky situation with her gal pal, Mrs. Butterworth.

Doublemint Twin:  I could fix one of them up with my Uncle Ben. He’d love to get married and get rice thrown at him! If they’re not careful, they’ll both end up old maids.

Sun-Maid Raisin Girl: (sniffs) Maid?!  Go ahead — rub Salt in my wounds.

Morton Salt Girl: Ladies, I couldn’t help but overhear my name?

Doublemint Twin:  Oh please, take it with a grain of you know what.

Morton Salt Girl: Let’s dish about Betty Crocker. I heard she has a bun in the oven, doesn’t that just take the cake?

Sun-Maid Raisin Girl: Shhh, she’s coming! Betty! I love the necklace… it’s the icing on the cake.

Betty Crocker:  Oh c’mon, You don’t have to stop talking on my account. I know there’s six layers of gossip tonight. But I thought of a name. If it’s a boy, it’s gonna be Gerber. I always wanted a Gerber baby!

Culligan Lady – – Mind if I join in?  Who’s the father? I hope it’s not some drip.

Betty Crocker: Don’t ask. He’s all washed-up in this town. Did the dirty deed, then vanished faster than you can say ‘Spic n’ Span.’

Morton Salt Girl: (whispering to Double-Mint)  Who’s the Daddy??  Some germaphobe?

Doublemint Twin: Yes, it’s none other than Mr. Clean.ty-d-bolmrclean

Morton Salt Girl: (gasps) Oh! But I heard last week he finally came clean. Admitted he scrubs and scours both ways and then tore off with the Tidy Bowl Man!

Betty Crocker: (cheeks flushing) Why don’t you run off and play with The Little Dutch Boy. Yes, all true ladies. And please no puns about toilet paper. They’re all just tearable! I can’t spare a square.

Mr. Whipple: I disagree, you seem to be on a roll. Let’s keep a soft spot in our hearts for that topic. Meanwhile, I’d be willing to make an honest woman out of you, Betty.  A man always has room for dessert.

Doublemint Twin:  Oh please Sir, you can’t have your cake and eat it too.

Betty Crocker: Take your hands off my baby bump, Mr. Whipple! If it’s a girl, her name is Charlotte. Please don’t squeeze the Charlotte!

Culligan Lady: Well nice chatting with you all, but I see someone I know. I could sure go for a long, tall drink of water. Hey Culligan Man!

Mr. Whipple: Wow, that’s one thirsty broad!

Coppertone Girl: Hey ladies!  Check-out the guy on the sofa. He’s smoking hot!

Josephine the Plummer: That’s the Marlboro Man.  I’d take the plunge with him any day.

Betty Crocker:  Which guy?  Point him out to me. I always thought the Marlboro Man and I would be the perfect match. I’d love to strike up a conversation.

Coppertone Girl:  He’s the one with the great tan. He’s sitting directly at 9:00.

Madge the Manicurist: Well 9:00 has a 5:00 shadow. And The Marlboro Man can’t hold a candle to The Michelin Man. He’ll drive a gal crazy. Personally, I tire out just imagining it. But you should tread lightly. With him, the squeaky wheel always gets the oil, if you know what I mean. Mmm, oil.  Softens hands while you do dishes.

Betty Crocker:  Oh Madge, you’re so funny. And what’s that you’re dipping your celery in?

Madge The Manicurist:  Ranch dressing.  You’re soaking in it.

Josephine The Plummer: (coughing) Excuse me, something just went down the wrong pipe. But it was delicious. Who’s the caterer?

Betty Crocker: Chef Boyardee.  But I heard that Gorton the Fisherman did the salmon pate.  Now he’s a real catch. I’d fall for him hook, line and sinker.

Doublemint Twin:  OMG Betty, you’ve got your spatula in everyone’s batter.  I don’t think you even know who the father of your little cupcake is.

Betty Crocker: It’s not like I did the whole Geek Squad! Goodness, these rolls are scrumptious, but I daresay the butter has too much cholesterol.

Madge the Manicurist:  Give it to Mikey. He eats everything!

Mother Nature: If you think it’s butter, but it’s not . . . it’s Chiffon!

Madge the Manicurist: It’s not nice to fool Mother Nature. Did you get a facelift?

Mother Nature:  Well, how dare you!

Jake From Statefarm:  Hi, what are you wearing?

Brooke Shields:  Nothing gets between me and my Calvins!

Alfred E. Neuman: (on loudspeaker)  Welcome Everyone. Don’t get MADD at my little announcement but you’re all officially out of work.  Some of you may even be dead. The votes are in and the networks are going with Commercial-Free television from now on.

All Commercial Characters:  Noooooooo!

Alfred E. Neuman: Now see, if you’d been a character in a print magazine (like me!) none of you would be concerned right now.  “What, me Worry?”

Boos and jeers abound as a violent food fight breaks out when Orville Redenbacher brings out the popcorn.

photo (20)And today is my birthday which means it’s time to announce the winners for The Blogcademy Awards!  Thanks to everyone for participating in my yearly event.

The winner for the Best Selfie (with blog in the picture) is Donna Gwinnell Lambo-Weidner and you can see her highly creative Selfie right here

The winner for Best Song is Marissa Bergen and here are her original humorous lyrics!

When it comes to blogging I’m the Cat’s Pajamas
And they call me the Rock N’ Roll Supermama
Cynical sarcastic subtle and sublime
And I got it in the pocket with the fattest rhymes
And if you haven’t got it yet, this is my song
With a guitar and a beat you’ll be singing along
So I know the Bloscar will go to me
Cause I got it when it comes to originality
And you know i got credentials, I come highly recommended
So thanks for the iTunes gift card, I’ll just tell you where to send it.

CONGRATULATIONS TO BOTH OF YOU and please email Little Miss Menopause at  [email protected] with a way to send your prize!

And finally, if anyone can go HERE  to vote for me, maybe I’ll win a silly prize myself.  It takes literally one second. Thank you!