Random Thought Friday

This is easier than being coherent. Perhaps I shall rename my blog 'Random Thought Mansion'. Perhaps not.

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In honor of My Little Pony, I would like to start a new charitable program along the lines of Locks of Love. I shall call it 'Fingernails of Pain'. Young boys can donate their extra-long woman fingernails to my charity, and they will be made into fake nails for vain women. The fingernails, not the young boys, because I'm pretty sure there are laws against that here in the United States, even if it IS for a good cause.

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I hurt my belbow today. That's an elbow, for you people who don't have kids. Somewhere between parking in the garage and sitting down at my computer, I contracted shooting-pain-belbowitis. It really hurts when I do this: pick up a beverage with my right hand and lift it to my mouth. I know the antidote: "Don't DO that!" It's a good thing that I normally pick up my beverages with my left hand. I'm thinking that I hurt it by carrying in five Devil's Playground bags and my purse all on that arm. That stupid checker/bagger Devil's handmaiden is to blame. A worse job of bagging I have never seen. Her method was to put at least one tall thing and one small thing in each bag. Oh, and ALL the canned goods went in the same bag, along with a box of Honey Nut Cheerios. Then we had the half-gallon of milk with his partner, a quart of Promise. I usually buy It's Almost Butter, or whatever the name of the Save-A-Lot whipped margarine is. But my mom took us to Pasta House for lunch the other day, and The Pony ran out of butter and used Promise, and has been begging for it ever since. Another floppy bag housed a loaf of French bread and a pack of hot dog buns. People! Bags like this will not stand up. They will not even hold their contents in the back of the LSUV. I would like to cut off that checker/bagger's...oops! That was my inner Jesse Jackson trying to get out. What I meant to say was that I would smack that Devil's handmaiden, except that my belbow hurts too bad. That's what happens when The Devil hires somebody under 80. I get check-out rage.

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Is Bear Grylls on tonight? Will he take off all his clothes to swim under the ice? Will he whip it out to pee...(1) on a T-shirt to wrap around his head and stay cool? (2) so he will have some nice fresh pee to drink so he won't dehydrate? (3) in his canteen so he can put it next to his skin and stay warm at night in case he doesn't have a fresh steaming carcass to crawl into?

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My #1 son spent the day at church reorganizing the electronic stuff. His crew did not get finished, and they have to work again next Tuesday. While he was gone, I had to do his chores. One of them is dumping the water sucked out of the Mansion by our new dehumidifier. I heard its little warning beeper go off. That sucker must hold two gallons. I called The Pony to come open the workshop door and the outside basement door so I could dump it. Hoisting it up to armpit height onto a concrete restraining wall thingy to dump it was probably not a good idea. That's word on the street from Hillbilly Mom's Right Belbow.

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I ran a stop sign and a yellow traffic light today. Not braggin', just sayin'...

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Why can't that freak Tom on Kathy Griffin's show be from somewhere besides Missouri? Not that I don't like her newest assistant/tour manager dude. But I really did not need for the world to find out that our Missouri boy likes to pull out his eyelashes because the 'pop' is so satisfying. Oh, he doesn't pull out the bottom lashes. That would be just weird, according to Tom. He looks like a crazed meth addict. As opposed to an upstanding pillar of the community meth addict.

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