I went to the store the other day and I caught my reflection in the freezer isle glass door. There I stood. In a pair of old scrub pants and a t-shirt I dug out of my brother’s DI box ten years ago. I had a twig in my hair and I realized my flip flops didn’t match.

This is all happening before I even have kids. In five years I’ll just be wearing garbage bags and duct tape. Its a downward spiral. This could be me soon:

That’s right…I could be Nancy Pelosi ET. Shudder.

“Knocked Up” has a ton of bad  language in it. An obscene amount really. I’d never let my kids watch it for sure. So why could I stomach the profanity in the funny movie and not in the action flick? Well, there it is right there…”Knocked Up” is funny.

I think its comes to this-I can lower my standards quite a bit if the movie or show promises to make me laugh (see “Always Sunny in Philadelphia”). I’m not as keen to do so when the movie is all about violence and action, or drama, or anything that doesn’t make me laugh.

I don’t know why this occurrs. Its silly, really. I should just set a standard and stick with it…but there’s such a shortage of truly funny movies out there that I hate to sacrifice a good one at the expense of prudish-ness.

Not all profane comedies strike my interest. I just watched “Burn After Reading”. Stupidest crap ever. And I love the Coen brothers. That movie stunk like Indi’s fresh poopies. So to really endure lots o’ bad language the movie, at least for me, has to balance itself out with a good comedic payoff.

So, not like any of this matters….was just wondering of any of you out there have the same sordid tastes…if you dare admit it.

In my lack of movement I had an old memory come to mind. Once, when I was in Jr. High, I went to a sleep over at a friends house. Apparently, sometime during the course of events of the night, my brain went to bed without my body. I have no recollection of what transpired that evening.

In the morning I was told by friends that as they were upstairs talking, I stormed out of the basement from where I was sleeping, grabbed my keys off the counter and walked outside. I guess I yelled, “You’re all talking too loud. I’m going home.”

At that point my compadres followed me out to the lawn where I staggered around in circles, in my nightgown mind you (yes…I wore a flannel nightgown in Jr. High) and eventually laid down on the lawn, said goodnight to some unseen midgets, and fell asleep.

So here I sit, once again in a state of coma, blogging about an event when I was also in a bit of a blur. So, needless to say, I will not remember writing this tomorrow. Bye!

That’s completly inappropriate. And racist. I think we should have this cartoonist fired. Then we can truly live in a society free of speech.

Last night, while preparing the next day’s eatables, I dropped a 10 pound crock pot on my big right toe. Needless to say, I handled it with composure and dignity. I didn’t even yell the f— word.

So after the first ten minutes of screaming and yelling and writhing and I apparently went into shock and don’t remember much. Dan took me to the ER and they did a bunch of x-rays. Long story short, no broken bones, just a bruised toe.

So…my question for myself is this…if I go into shock over a stubbed toe….how am I going to handle future medical conundrums….like pregnancy…or getting a sliver…and like and such as? What a wimp I am.

That is all for now.

“BYU Math Teaching Assistants called BYU police to report a male student who had repeatedly threatened them. The student said he would pull out a female TA’s hair with duct tape and would stab another TA’s foot with a thumb drive to infect him with a deadly virus. BYU police are questioning the individual.”

“Stab his foot with a thumb drive”???? That’s good stuff.

“A parking officer reported an open container of alcohol in a vehicle near the Harris Fine Arts Center. Upon investigation, police determined the container in question was in fact an empty bottle of maple syrup. “

My question is…Why would you call the cops anyway if you found an open container of alcohol? Smokey the Bear says, “just throw the damn thing away, moron.”

“March 21: BYU police received a call reporting a male dressed in a bright yellow suit looking for duck eggs near the duck pond. When police arrived as the scene the man was nowhere to be found.”

I repeat. You can’t make this stuff up.

The word “stripper” is being thrown around a lot lately. First it was the headline making news that an American Idol finalist worked as a “man of the night” at an Arizona strip club. *gasp*. Then we were all taken by surprise when New York Governor Elliot Spitzer had his exploits with a call girl blasted across prime time television. It seems that our friends form the seedy underground are making quite the stir in national news circuits. But what will that mean for us regular, non clothes-removing-for-money shmoes who are trying to eek by on underpaid wages and ebay sales? Should we all give a little more thought to joining the escort industry? Here are a few reasons why stripping for cash might just be your ladder to financial success.

Take a Look At Vanessa Williams

So, what does it take to become a successful street walker? If we look at famous hookers throughout time, they all have one common thread; nudity. And in some cases, high profile nudity. Take the case of Vanessa Williams. She was crowned Miss America back in 1984 and quickly dethroned due to some questionable* photos published in Penthouse Magazine. Now, take a break and see how many former Miss Americas you can name on one finger. If you have more than no fingers up, chances are you’re either gay or a big fat party animal. And you don’t look like a big fat party animal to me. Anywho, Vanessa Williams. She’s now a respected singer, recorder, and entertainer. She even sang at Arnold Schwarzenegger gubernatorial swear in. So point number one: if you’re going into the stripping business, make sure to “leak” some photos of yourself to top publishers. And then become Miss America.

*totally nudy

Remember Diablo Cody?

Alright, so you’re on your way to increasing your income by taking off your clothes for money. Way to go. Slut. Now all you need to do is publish a best selling book about your past exploits. Diablo Cody of “Juno” fame started her career as a stripper. Well, sort of. She actually went to college and got a job, and then decided to apply at the local “house of ill repute”. Smart use of an education. Really. But then she put her poll dancing days to good use and wrote “Candy Girl: A Year in The Life of an Unlikely Stripper”, a memoir of gettin’ down. She made lots o’ dinero , as the Irish say, with that little publication. So lesson number two: use your naked experiences to write best selling books all the boring “day-jobbers” will read with secret envy.

So Sally Forth You Army of the Night

Now that you’re armed with the savvy business tactics to turn your bathroom mirror striptease into easy cash, go out there and make it big. Start small and within weeks you will be rolling in the dough as large steroid infested men drop pealed grapes into your mouth. Hey, it worked for Jennifer Flowers…kind of. And just remember: if the governor of a large state calls you for “services”, over charge him and then post your exploits on MySpace. You never know when that big press pay-off will come a callin’.$$