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Cruising my small town’s Facebook page today, I discovered an invitation.
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I wonder if adults are allowed?
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I do love a good goat encounter.
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We’ve had a lot of mushrooms lately, but never one with dead tribble hair.
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Teachers. They educate our children and at times, take on the role of surrogate parents.
Scooping poop should not be part of their job description.
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Some years, if we’re not traveling… we spend Christmas Day with friends. They tend to have less emotional baggage than family, and are generally a lot more fun. Of course last year, Covid ruined everything about the holidays and we neither traveled nor made merry with friends. Boo to global pandemics! They’re such a buzz kill.
Our friends, being fun loving (as well as gift greedy) have decided to celebrate 2020’s lost holiday in July. (It will be a barbecue/pool party at our friend’s newly purchased house/horse farm/how the Hell is a 50 something single woman going to take care of this huge spread by herself.)
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We’ve been invited and encouraged to get into the Christmas in July spirit…. so naturally I will be wearing this:
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Because nothing says Ho! Ho! Ho! like Santa in a mankini.
I will also be bringing this:
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A Covid themed piñata, so we can all take our frustrations over the past year out on something other than our spouses.
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Yes. To all of that. And I won’t be filling it with candy, no. In honor of the shit show that was 2020 I will fill it with these:
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What are those you ask? Only the perfect gift to give your friends in case certain items become hard to find again.
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Portable toilet paper! Am I a genius or what?
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And to further get into the Christmas spirit? I’ve purchased this 2020 totally went down the drain themed tree.
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I did not however purchase the accompanying ornaments.
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Tree turd danglers?
No.
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Definitely, no.
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In fairness to my dog loving readers who must cringe at the plethora of cat posts on my page … here’s one for you.
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Wondering what your next birthday or Christmas gift to Fido should be?
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Mr. Poops. Because you can never go wrong with a morose black turd.
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No need to thank me. The thought of Mr. Poop happily squeaking his way through your house is all the gratitude I need.
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You never know what serious news stories will be discussed on my town’s Facebook page. The economy? Yes. Climate change? Sure. But I live in Maine…. so likely as not? It will be this:
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Bear poop beats the G-7 Summit any day.
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The conversation got heated and had to be removed by admin. We take our poo identification seriously up here.
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Now that’s my kind of neighbors.
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Someone is selling peony blossoms for $3 a pop?
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Woot!
I’m going to be rich.
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I’ve read that the cost of rental cars had gone up, but $3,000 for a week?
That’s beyond insane.
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There are times when I run across items that beg the question… why?
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Yeah, we’ve all had a crappy year… but squishing plastic rainbow colored excrement isn’t the solution.
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Let me get this straight, good behavior is rewarded with…. poop? New age parenting is truly beyond my comprehension.
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I like wine. I like butter. I do not think I’d like canned butter wine.
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Is it? Is it really….
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Just… no. I don’t want my toothpaste dispensed from anyone’s butt, giant green ogre or otherwise.
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It took me decades, but I’ve finally found an appropriate use for tofu.
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And yes, this is actually a thing. Your cat can now do what you’ve always wanted to when presented with curdled soybeans. Look how proud this cat is to piss on it!
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Of course this feline doesn’t look very pleased.
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But personally, if I could poop on the revolting stuff? I’d be a very happy camper.
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After thoroughly whipping my other half in a marathon Scrabble session in the barn last weekend, I took a good look around.
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And realized what an amazing storage building filled with absolute crap ….
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To seriously alcohol–centric man cave transformation we had wrought.
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Yay us.
And to this glorious rustic palace of play? I added a few new things.
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Because if there was ever a more perfect place for my fully operational spastic poop drone… I don’t know where it could be.
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To the bar, I added an acrylic box of appropriately themed cocktail napkins.
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Each more true than the last.
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Alongside the napkins there are now swizzle sticks.
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Some are shaped like twigs in honor of their origin.
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And some are shaped like jazz hands… because it’s just delightfully creepy.
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And since no man cave with a bar should be without them?
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Hair spray and a comb to repair follicle damage the walk from our wind blown house wreaks on my unruly tresses.
And if you’re cringing over that addition gentlemen?
Viola!
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I also added a plant.
Granted, it’s a just small succulent…. but I believe my eventual takeover of the premises is progressing quite nicely.
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The World Wildlife Fund’s symbolic adoption continues.
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Cute candidates abound but you know this fellow will be left out in the cold.
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No one will want to cuddle up with him on the couch. That dude needs a serious manicure.
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Honey Badgers get a bad rap and sure, they’ve been known to viciously kill humans… but I’d still rather adopt one of them than Honey Boo Boo.
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Most people find condors to be ugly birds, but come on…. he’s rocking that feather boa. It’s not an easy look to pull off.
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And finally there’s the wombat, a much maligned creature. Sure he poops square cubes and has a two pronged penis….. but hey, none of us is perfect.
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For those friends who like to play in the dirt?
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Pencils. They’re not just for chewing anymore…
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I thought this next one was cute.
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But realized I might be attacked by that hungry red squirrel bitch and had to pass.
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Yoga dice?
How am I supposed to play craps if a winning roll is downward facing dog.
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I see the appeal here.
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We’re building a barn bar and the husband has been known to tick me off.
Hmmm..
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Because an internal kind message will take the sting out of an F Bomb gift.
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And finally there’s jewelry.
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Because no woman can resist a man who gives her turd themed bling.
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I don’t know if this is true…
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But I’m really hoping it is.
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Baby Yoda cocktails? Fabulous. Telling me about them and not posting a recipe? Cruel.
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And since we’ve all had enough of the last election horror show?
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Wilbur is pretty stinking cute. And when’s the last time you said that about a presidential candidate?
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Poop cookies.
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Admit it, you know someone who deserves a dozen or so of those.
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