D.M. to the mofo V.

I've decided that when people email me "Thank you kindly" I'll reply with "You're welcome meanly". Too crass? Speaking of crass, how crass is this ass?

Aforementioned ass was standing directly in front of me and G at the DMV (doo wop dooo wee) the other day. Sure she was probs wearing a thong, but why even bother? She kept pulling her shirt down as if that would change that fact someone forgot to wear pants. There was this little kid there who must have been no older than 3 who was pimp walking all over the place. This kid was struttin. G and I could barely stop laughing. So I started to imitate him until he came up to me and tried to tickle my stomach and then his mom got all pissed and yelled at him. WHOOPS! Did you know that the DMV is a varitable meat market? If not, and you need your meat marketed, head on over prontissimo. G got hit on by a middle-aged bald guy who asked her if she "did computer repair" (if you know what I mean). I, on the other hand, being the classy broad that I am, got hit on by a homeless guy who first asked me if I was a musician and then told me I had interesting hands while attempting to hold my hand. Mind you I had written 'DMV' in Sharpie all over my hand (like a literal PALM PILOT! Get it!?!?) to remind myself I had to go. . . . so maybe he was just trippin and thought the writing was interesting. . . . anywhoskies, I'll have to ask him when we go out on our hot date this Friday night.

ZIIIIIING!

Go Pho Yourself And The Horse You Rode In On!

We're having Pho (Vietnamese noodle soup) from Pho Hoa for lunch which begs the question:

Hoa before bros or bros before phos?

No?? (sorry)

Dream weaver

Hello internet. What up? Really? SHUT UP, no . . . . WTF seriously?? Oh no he di'nt!! Whatever . . . . I SAID, WHATEVER!!

Ok, so the other night I thought it would be wise to eat an entire package of dried pineapple at 10 o'clock in the PM right before bed. When I went to sleep I had the following dream: I was watching this really rotund man rolling around on the grass at the park and someone was telling me that he was one of the most intelligent guys in the world, but that he kept all his great ideas inside his belly, hence the gigantorness of his gut. Here is an artist's rendering of said dream:

The guy was painfully bloated. . . . . so much so that I could actually feel the ache in his gut, in my own gut. Then I came to the realization that I was this fat man. . . . that my belly was bloated to the extent of severe pain . . . . and then I woke feeling like I was with child and the baby daddy was a dried pineapple.

Internet: That was the lamest dream ever.
Leslie: Look, I don't make up my own dreams. I simply relay them. Maybe if you'd quit pressuring me to write on this blog, I'd come up with some better stuff.
Internet: I'll decipher that stupid dream for you. You're literally and figuratively FULL of youself. You think you're so smart. . . . like you're belly is full of "good ideas". Where are those good ideas now, Les! HMMMMM? Spit one out.

(Leslie in the fetal position under her desk holding her dried pineapple impregnated stomach, rocking herself and weeping . . . . ever so softly weeping).

And a River Runs Through It

While in San Diego over Thanksgiving, my mom found an old flyer that I made when I was about nine. I remember my parents having a talk with me around that age letting me know that when I got older they would send me to college, but after that I was on my own against the cruel elements and mean streets of this godforsaken world. I figured I better get crackin on making some dough ASAP (if not sooner) so I created the following flyer and passed it around to all the mailboxes in our neighborhood.

Interestingly, watering your plants is of the same value to me as babysitting your children. Also, how "Professional" does one need to be in order to pick up your mail and newspaper while you're out of town? Why did I charge separately for these services? Sure I'm "Responsible" but am I "Dependable" ?? Did someone only use a Thesaurus to come up with this, or what? Finally, who advertises childcare with A HUGE HAND? That would be me. Guess how many baby-sitting jobs I got with this fly. (Answer: ZIP). Funnily enough, there was a lot of false advertising going on with my little helping hand. I recall getting the gig of turning the sprinklers on at my next-door neighbor's house while they were on vacation. For some reason I wasn't very dependable that week and kept forgetting to turn them on. Then one night at around 11pm I remembered that I hadn't watered their yard in like 3 days so I went over and turned the sprinklers on only to go to bed and forget that they were on. At 8:00 the next morning when I went outside to catch my carpool I noticed that my neighbor's house was now an island floating in a sea of sprinkler water that had been on for nearly 9 hours. Now THAT'S a responsible helping hand if ever there was one. And did I tell my neighbors of my faux pas? Nah. . . . I let their water bill do the talkin on that one.

Cruisin for a bruisin

Whilst dropping trou last night I noticed this gigantor bruise on that no man's land where the thigh ends and the hip begins right on the border of butt frontier. I don't know what is up with my equillibrium, but I am waaaaaaay uncoordinated and pretty much eat shit on a daily basis. Just this morning while walking out of the parking garage I stepped over a chain that was draped between two posts, but neglected to lift my knee up high enough and the toe of my boot caught the chain and I went flying, just BARELY saving myself before my face hit pavement.

What I almost looked like coming into work today. "Morning fellow co-workers!!!"

Axel says I run wrong and my feet aren't parallel to each other. . . . so maybe that's it. Long story incredibly long, my body is constantly running into and falling over things. This hip bruise is the result of me not knowing the dimensions of my own office desk (which I have been sitting at for the past 5 years) and I always cut the corner too close and end up smashing my mother hip into the edge resulting in a permanent banana-like bruise on that appendage. (Ed. note. this happens DAILY). Are my hips expanding and preparing to give birth whether I am with fetus or not, or am I just stupid? (I'm going with the latter). Which reminds me, a couple years ago when I was first learning to snowboard, Axel and I went to Tahoe and got all bruised up because of eating it on the side of the mountain.

Way to shred, Braaaa!

The following week I had a gyno appointment. So my 100 year old gyno was checking out the ol' cervix and while he was doing his thing he asks "How is everything going in your life? Everything ok with the boyfriend?" I thought this was a little weird as we never talked about Axel before, but I said "Yeah, everything is fine". Then he goes, "You guys getting along?" To which I said "Yeah, as much as can be expected." Then he tells me to put my clothes on and meet him in his office. When I go into his office he asks me "Is there anything you want to talk about? Anything at all?" At this point I'm starting to wonder what are the gynocologistics (ZING!!) of this conversation? What exactly does this old man want me to say? So I simply said "Nope, not really" and left. When I got home and got fully undressed in front of my mirror to take a shower, it hit me not unlike an abusive boyfriend . . . . my inner thighs were black and blue and bruised to a pulp as a result of my pathetic attempt at snowboarding. My poor gyno was probably dialing up women's protective services at that exact moment.

Bruise Knee is that you!?!?

(sorry)

Hall O' Weens

Pregunta me this. Would you say Axel and I are too old to dress up for Halloweener considering we (a) have no children (b) have never dressed up together in the past? I seriously think we'd make a fab Cagney and Lacey . . . no?

I mean Axel is the spitting image of Lacey and I have that very same Cagney expression on my face 99.9% of the time like "Did you just let one rip, Lacey?" But good luck getting Axel to be Lacey . . . . you should see the lengths I have to go to just to get him to be Pleathery HA! Get it, because I . . . umm . .. never mind. I guess I could always just go as D.J. Qualls.

Kid you not, I have that outfit and we have THE EXACT SAME HAIRCUT. . . . not to mention the same debilitating case of anorexia nervosa.

Oh Deer

What do you call a deer that can write with both hooves?



Bambidextrous

Come on! I made that up all by myself and it only took me 4 hours to photoshop that stupid picture so just shut it already! JEEEEEZ!!