Tag Archives: president

Helping the Economy One Candy at a Time

All of you people who gave up chocolate or sweets for Lent…are you done withholding yet?

 Because you’re killing me, Smalls. And you’re killing the economy.

Let me explain. Because you aren’t consuming sweets, store shelves are overflowing with impossible-to-resist candy.

  • Cadbury creme eggs
  •  Cadbury chocolate eggs (Has anyone tested Cadbury chocolate to make sure crack isn’t an ingredient?)
  • Jelly beans
  • Chocolate bunnies
  • Reese’s peanut butter eggs

The Easter candy looks so sad sitting on the shelves. So lonely. Even the Peeps beckon to me.

So because you aren’t buying it, I have to buy it. All of it. It’s a dirty job, but somebody’s gotta do it.

Think of the candy. Candies need homes, too.

Imagine what you can do with just a dollar a day.

Plus, the economy is in trouble. Someone has to pick up the slack of the nonsweets eaters during this time of year.

And that person is me. Remember that when I run for President in the next election.

Thoughtsy: The Woman Who Singlehandedly Saved the Economy One Candy at a Time

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Vision Test: What Do You See?

I hate going to the optometrist. It may even be worse than the yearly you-know-where exam. Ok, it’s not worse than that.

There’s just something about eyes that I find extremely disturbing. They always ask if I want to have my pupils dilated. Dilated? Are my eyes about to give birth? No. Then let’s keep them as is, shall we?

The worst part of the optometrist is when they blow air in your eye. Is that really necessary?

As soon as I rest my chin in that thing, my eye starts twitching in anticipation. If my eye could run screaming from the room, it would. Ewwww…gross image.

When I’m President (A Vote for Me is a Vote for Chocolate), I’ll do away with the eye puffer machine. Instead, optometrists will test your vision using these two pictures.

What do you see?

A laptop.

What else do you see? Look closer.

Peek-a-boo Esme!

If you don’t see the cat, your vision is worse than mine, and you’ll need the eye puffer test.

If you see the cat, you pass. Perfect vision.


Naked Cowboy for President and Turning the World Pink

Extra! Extra! Naked Cowboy…for President! Read all about it!

That’s right. This guy is running for President.

I took this pic when Princess and I visited NYC (Taking a Tiny Bite Out of the Big Apple). Apparently, he’s pretty conservative. As conservative as someone can be who’s comfy roaming the streets of New York in tight whiteys.

I’m pretty sure there’s a law that you’re not allowed to run for President if you’ve been photographed in your underoos. Maybe the hat is the loophole on that one.

Anyways, if Naked Cowboy can run for President, so can I. I mentioned it in jest, but now I’m seriously considering it. I think I’ll ask Lorraine at Late to the Party to be my Co-President. Screw having a Vice President. I want someone to share the responsibility equally.

Here are my priorities. Please feel free to comment with suggestions.

Someone needs to tackle the serious issues. And I’m willing to face them head on. Remember when you head out to the polls, a vote for me is a vote for chocolate.

Before I break another news story, let me take a moment to say I never watch the news. I know that’s exactly what you want in a President: someone uninformed.

Remember how I participated in the Susan G. Komen Run for the Cure in June? I received an email this morning, and I just want to see if anyone can confirm that it’s not SPAM (like the Russian Mafia comment.)

The email says that starting today they’re kicking off Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Then it says, visit www.69-seconds.org. Because a woman dies from breast cancer every 69 seconds.

69 seconds? Really? 69? Did someone double check the math? Maybe we should round it to 70 seconds.

In all seriousness, I encourage everyone to visit the site to help promote breast cancer awareness and “turn the virtual world pink” by using the hash tag #fightbreastcancer in your blog posts or on Facebook and Twitter.


Old McDonald Has a Farm

Last week was the Great Frederick Fair. I go to the fair for the food, which will be receiving its own post later, but first, I’ll fill you in on other fair activities.

Runners up to the food are the animals.

Oink, oink.

I named them all Wilbur. Except for the one on the left. His name is Pete. Your left, not my left. No, your other left. Make the Ls with your hands.

Piglet Fun Fact #1: Pigs can get sunburn.

Before we continue, let’s have a round of applause for Kiefer. Because Kiefer hates cows. Yet we still made a special trip to the animal section to check out the calves and their big, beautiful doe eyes.

I think Kiefer hates cows because they stink.  But really, whose poo doesn’t stink? Apparently they don’t have cows on the crunchy West Coast.

Mooooooo

The fair also had a Birthing Center where you can watch cows give birth. Yeeeeah…. We didn’t hang around for that. Although it may have been pretty cool.

Of course, the fair also has rides. Blah. I really could care less. Except for the pony ride. When I was little, I always had to ride the ponies. Twice.

I was hoping to relive my youth and ride the ponies, but can you believe there is a 70-pound weight limit? I tried to convince the guy I weighed under that, but he didn’t believe me. What-ever. Pony poo-head.

I’ve already admitted that I’m not a big fan of rollercoasters (If you haven’t read the rollercoaster post, you should. It’s one of my favs.), but I’m also not fond of rides that spin…or drop. Really I dislike most rides.

But this ride. This ride is the worst.

This ride comes straight from the depths of H-E-double hockey sticks. When I become President (A vote for me, is a vote for chocolate.), I’m eliminating this ride from existence.

Why is this ride so horrible?

  1. It looks like a UFO. You know what happens on UFOs? Anal probes.
  2. It spins around at a gazillion miles an hour. That’s just not safe.
  3. When someone else pukes, it gets all over you. There’s no escape. It’s like that math problem where you throw the baseball on a train. The puke stays in the same spot and you move into it.