Yeah, I found my blog...

It's like stepping back to 2005.

I think often about writing here again or using this space in a more professional way (as if), and maybe someday when I'm not working three jobs and not still driving kids around, I will.

In the meantime, just stopping by to drop an icon here so I have a URL for it because I can't be bothered to find another place to drop it. 

There you go.

Back to real life.


I think I'm going to start blogging again.

Take it back old school.

Under the radar.

Just writing something every day, getting back into the habit of writing for myself.

No audience in mind.

Stream of consciousness, just letting it all hang out.

Well...maybe I'll censor a few things.

At least until my youngest is out of middle school and out of the worst of the "OHMYGODMOMYOU'REEMBARRASSINGME" stage.

I was thinking of gussying up the old blog, making it look all streamlined and design-conscious with shades of gray and celadon and a pimento-colored highlights.

I dunno. Seems like a lot of work.

This past summer, my son wore two different hockey socks to hockey practice, and the old, grisly coach called him out in front of the group and asked him why the hell he was wearing two different socks, if he wants to stand out, do it with skill, not with socks.

I kinda feel that way about trying to change up the blog design too much, getting too fancy.

I should just let the writing do the talking. Or the reading. Or the sock mis-matching.


So, let's do this. Again. For old time's sake.

Free stock photo by PIRO4D from Because why not.

NaBloPoMo: 30 Days Of Stuff My Mother Found In Her House And Gave To Me

My mother is de-cluttering. She is un-hoarding. She is liquidating the contents of her house. 

And like a museum of my childhood I hadn't intended on visiting anytime soon--let alone, knew existed--each time she visits, my mother, curator, delivers bags and boxes of my past.

Like this...thing.

What is it? It's a nurse mouse, as much as I can figure. It is also a bank.

No one in our immediate family was a nurse or had ever been a nurse when this bank was given to me...when? Who knows.

I didn't want to be a nurse when I grew up. Or a veterinarian.

The nurse mouse doesn't represent a beloved cartoon character from my 1970's Saturday morning lineup--which was, no doubt, odd. Fat Albert and the Cosby Kids, remember them? The kids who hung out in a junk yard? How about the Sid & Marty Krofft classic, "Lidsville," the live-action kids show about a town full of hat people?

There were no coins in the nurse mouse bank.

And no Charles Nelson Reilly in my kids' childhood.

I was playing Old Maid and accidentally wrote a John Irving novel...

or maybe I accidentally cast a John Waters film?

This artwork on this card deck is very difficult to defend unless you're using it as a Rolodex for fringe characters.

Read more Josette at

Laughing At Kmart's Jingle Bells Commercial Makes Me A Bad Santa

Well, ring-a-ding-dingaling and fa-la-la-la-liscious! Kmart's new video ad for Joe Boxer underwear has tongues a-wagging over a bunch of comely young men jingling their jangly bits to holiday music.

If you're watching this with your Aunt Millie, you'd best bring out the fainting couch and smelling salts.

Ready? For your viewing pleasure.

Okay, quick poll:

What is ringing on these guys? Their hips? Their franks? Or is it the beans?

I know what you mean. Wink wink "bells up their bums" nudge nudge.

Although, I'm going with Jingle Balls. Isn't the selling point of boxer underwear the loose-fitting freedom and range of motion they provide ? This ad illustrates that point, spectacularly

Of course, we can't have anything nice without some busybody with finer sensibilities ruining it the rest of us.

Was Kmart a "once-great company?" I guess. I always liked the blue light specials.

But explain to me how is this commercial "anti-family?" I thought that wearing boxer shorts could improve a man's sperm count. I'd say that increasing sperm count ranks at least number five on the You, Too, Can Make A Family how-to list.

BUT WHAT ABOUT THE CHILDREN? How are we supposed to explain these men in shorts and the bells and the funny thrusting? WHAT DO WE SAY TO THE CHILDREN?

Here's what you say to your kids:

"Honey darling sweetie, you know how we talk about 'real' and 'make believe'? Well, that ringing sound isn't real. Like Santa Claus and flying reindeer and elves aren't real. It's all make believe. Happy holidays!"

Or, you can tell your kids that every time a man in boxer shorts rings his bell, a Victoria's Secret Angel gets her wings.

No, actually, don't tell you kids that.

I don't know what to tell anyone's kids. We don't have cable television because I'm pretty sure there's a lot on television that's raunchy and crude besides this commercial, and generally, I'm too lazy to screen every single thing my kids could possibly happen upon. Not having cable allows me to feign happy, lazy ignorance.

Yeah, I can be a sour-faced scold when it comes to the objectification of women and advertising using girl bodies to sell everything from soup to nuts (ironically.)

But if this ad featured women in underwear, jumping up and down and making their bodacious bras jingle out Carol of the Bells?

I can tell you from recent experience that searching "musical boobs" and "jingle bra" on YouTube brings forth a cornucopia of titillating and HILARIOUS videos.

That's what this woman has to say about it.

So it's not Shakespeare. Or Wes Anderson. Or even the Three Stooges.

I still thought Kmart's jingle guys were a giggle. I apologize for adding to our great nation's overall moral decline.

Photo Credit: YouTube
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