8 Steps To Getting That Quick and Nasty Divorce You've Always Wanted...

1) Buy something he/she absolutely hates. 2) Let he/she talk you into donating it to Goodwill. 3) Visit Goodwill later that week, spot that item on a shelf, and when your partner's back is turned, place it in your cart. 4) When he/she looks in the cart and asks, "What is THAT?," pretend you have never seen this item before your trip to this Goodwill. 5) Innocently say something along the lines of, "Isn't this fabulous? This would look SO good on our dining room table." 6) When he/she freaks out, raging, "We had that! That

They Actually Make Pumpkin Spice Cat Litter Now... (And 33 Other Seasonal Signs Of Western Civilization's Demise)

I damn near worship autumn, but this fall you won't find me humping any gourds. Okay. That's a lie. I might get a wee bit sensual with one sexy squash: So, yeah, that's my husband, Chris, indulging my fall fetish by agreeing to put on this piece of folk art from a kitschy gourd museum. And we can all agree that my man looks goooooood. Rawr? I'm just kidding. I do not get off on fleshy fall fruits, although, apparently, the rest of U.S.A. sure as fuck does. If you were to guess what a pumpkin looked like

I Found A Plastic Eggplant On The Highway (So, Yeah, This Is A Post About Penises)...

I found a dildo on Route 19 the other day. And it wasn't any wimpy wang-bang-thank-you-ma'am-er, either. This thing had hulk. This thing had heft. This thing had herpes. Ok, so, I'm guessing on that last one, because you obviously can't see viruses with your naked eyes, although some nudity is required for spotting those buggers, and by buggers I mean sores, because we're not talking crabs here, y'all. Anyway... I found this foot-long dong while sitting in road construction on the phone with my grandmother. She was all like, "I think I should make two cranberry pies for Thanksgiving,

I Lost Jesus In An Abandoned Grocery Store...

The girl wiggled in the plush lining of the coffin until she had made herself comfortable. Through the closed casket lid, she could hear the church people crying and carrying on. And then a body builder dressed as Jesus opened her sarcophagus and held out his hand to assist in her ascension. “You are in heaven, child,” said the muscled messiah. He then handed her a diapered doll and declared, “Here is the child you murdered.” The 12-year-old girl clasped the plastic infant to her breast, and tears shone in her eyes. “If only I hadn’t chosen to have

I Run Twitter Accounts for Psychic Cats...

Okay, y'all, I promise that this time I had the most. legit. reason(s). ever. for taking a particularly protracted hiatus from this here corner of the Internet. Turns out, while you were here, I was over there at that other section of the World Wide Web, earning my living as a bonafide feline social media strategist. Yup. You read that right. I run the social media accounts of three cats. And not just any cats. These cats are psychics. Legit fucking psychics, y'all. No worries. I'll wait here while you let that settle. You got it? No? Need another

25 Tips For Beginning Your Recovery From Depression

The news appears dark today, and I am sure it will grow darker still before the dust settles. Unfortunately, while I write this morning about a particular tragedy, the words will likely be relevant tomorrow, the day after that, and many more days after that. We live in a world where evil prowls with impunity. We occupy places where justice does not prevail. We try to thrive in environments where equality does not exist. And no matter your personal level of privilege (or lack thereof), pushing aside this curtain of endless calamities is burdensome, at best. But to find hope

My Husband Pees On Kittens...

So, the other night, I'm sitting in the living room, minding my own sticky beeswax, when my husband, Chris, walk into the room and initiates this exchange: Chris: So, can we talk about how I just accidentally peed on the kitten? Me: Again? See, this is the deal. Chris and I did some kitten-sitting during the long holiday weekend. We got to spend several days loving on this little rascal (who actually is named Rascal): That little feline is so adorable that he literally has a heart on it's arse. (No, really, did you see that little white furry heart

Apparently, Colostomy Bags Do Not Double As Sex Toys...

My husband, Chris, and I are no strangers to kinky sex. After all, we've done the missionary position, and we've done that bit where I'm on top, and (I'm blushing even thinking about typing this next thing...) one time, I let him touch my boobies when we were doing it. We're crazy, y'all. So, you can imagine our absolute shock when we discovered that there are sexual options beyond the aforementioned marvels (missionary, girl-on-top, booby touching.) Truly, are there no limits to the wonders in this world? Apparently not, because it also turns out that if your colon starts being

This Blog Had a Good Run, But Now It's Time To Say Our Goodbyes, Because I'm Headed To Jail...

I wanted to use the few seconds of freedom I have remaining to tell you how much I've appreciated your support and kindness as I attempted to create a blog that would make you smile, make you think, or make you just a little less bored while you were on the toilet with access to only your phone. Indeed, the time has come for me to bid you a fond, fond, fond farewell. So, with a heavy heart, I am saying goodbye. This will ostensibly be my last post, as I am certain the police will arrive momentarily to take

There Are Moments That The Words Don't Reach (And, Yes, I Stole That From The Hamilton Musical, Which You HAVE To Listen To, Because It's BADASS!!)

My husband went to bed hours ago, and I can hear him snoring as I type. I should be in there with him, his bear arms wrapped around me, me playing the (not-so-)little spoon to his big(ger) spoon. But the clock struck midnight hours ago, and I am waiting for the dread to descend. Fourteen years ago, on this day, my eldest sister, Dawn, died. She choked on her own vomit at a house party where she was working as a prostitute. Some cocktail of alcohol and drugs left her unconscious, and when her client noticed that she