1.  The Edward-ish – You know, if I wanted to be able to look at someone whenever I wanted to, I’d just carry a picture of them around with me all the time.  Or I’d kidnap them and keep them down in my basement.  Whichever is more convenient.  No need to get them permanently inked on you, or worse, get a cheap version of them tattooed on you.

2.  The Full-Back – Call me crazy, but it probably would have been easier and more economical to buy a Twilight backpack and wear that around all day.

3.  The Tramp Stamp Crest – Because giant butterflies weren’t bad enough, right?

4.  The Angry Mullet – I have a feeling this person was scaring off people way before this tattoo came along.  I’m just saying.

5.  The Team Jacob – Couldn’t they have just bought one of those obnoxious t-shirts instead?

Are you horrified?  Me too.  I’ll make it all better:

You’re welcome!

Please, don’t act like you’ve never done it.

I have.

Because my greatest fear in life is not spiders or heights or guys dressed up as Mickey Mouse, or death – It’s spelling things wrong.

You should see it if I have to sign a birthday card.  It takes me 15 minutes.  Because I have to go extra slow so can be sure not to misspell “happy.”  You don’t know what can happen.  One minute you’re writing along and the next happy has three p’s and you look like a moron.

I don’t know how to live with that on my conscience.

Cats are notoriously evil creatures who only exist to scratch you and whine about being hungry.  Feeding one cat is annoying enough with their running around in excitement, jumping into the food bag, dumping cans of Fancy Feast over, etc.  But we have five cats.  Five.  We spend a small fortune on cat food every month, because apparently the 20 pound, nine dollar bag of food you get from the hardware store is not adequate.  Ask me what it’s like to watch a defiant cat with digestive problems poop on your bed.  Go ahead, I’ll tell you all about it.  I might even have pictures.

Making it through feeding time with five cats is nothing if not terrifying.  Neither of the two humans in the house like to do it.  We’re constantly trying to convince the other one they should do it.  Only a few times have we awoken to 10 tiny paws making their way toward our faces, realizing in horror we argued so long about who would feed the cats that no one actually did.

Then we argue a little more, because no one wants to bust open 3 cans of cat food open first thing in the morning.  Personally, I like to save my dry-heaving until mid afternoon.

Amanda Seyfried looks serious.  The goose looks terrified.  We all wonder how the hell not one person in that photo shoot could stop this from happening.

I bet Robert Pattinson is just happy he gets to pose with someone more cuddly than Kristen Stewart.  I went there.

Yeah, whenever I want to have a fresh-faced and wind-blown look photographed I head down to the local petting zoo too.  I had no idea Penelope Cruz and I had so much in common.

6:54 am – Wakeup 6 minutes before alarm.  Go back to sleep.  I can’t live without those 6 minutes.

7:09 am – Wakeup 9 minutes after my alarm started going off.  Figures.

7:12 am – Fall asleep in shower.  Manage to not hurt myself.  Feel pretty good about that.

7:17 am – Put some clothes on.  Except for the pants.  Always wait until the last minute for the pants.

7:19 am – Pour myself a bowl of Raisin Bran.  Use the last of the milk.  Make mental note to buy more.

7:20 am – Forget what I was trying to remember to buy at the store.

7:30am – Put cereal bowl in the dishwasher.  Tell myself, out loud, “good job” for being clean.  Positive reinforcement all the way.

7:31 am – Start to go crazy trying to remember what I was supposed to buy at the store.

7:32 am – Get a whiff of poop.  Hope it’s not me.

7:35 am – Find Cat #5 covered in feces.  Die a little inside.

7:36 am – Throw cat in shower.  We both look equally terrified about what’s going to happen.

7:38 am – Pry soaking wet and still feces-covered cat from behind toilet.  Throw back in shower.

7:39 am – Remember it was milk I needed from the store.

7:40 am – Wrap angry and vengeful cat in a towel and ask him if it was good for him too.  Realize I might not live to see tomorrow.

7:43 am – Grab purse and lunch.  Realize I haven’t brushed my teeth or put pants on.  This won’t work.

7:44 am – Forget what I need from the store again

7:45 am – Brush teeth really fast.  Miss a bunch of spots.  Make mental note to tell dentist poopy cat story.  He’ll like it and forget to tell me I’m bad at oral hygiene.

7:47 am – Put a pair of pants on.  Wish they had an elastic waistband.

7:49 am – Smell poop again.  Still hope it’s not me.

7:50 am – Discover poop on the stove.  Gag.  Decide to eat out tonight.

7:51 am – Leave for work.  Might not ever go home again.

I think you’re smart, hilarious, handsome and useful when I need to pick out beer for a party.  I’ve always been proud to be your sister.  I have proof:

Happy Birthday!

Take this billboard from a local restaurant chain, for instance:

The one I saw was actually for Hacienda, not La Senorita.  But they’re both owned by the same parent company.

Anyway, upon seeing the billboard I laughed, and immediately knew they wouldn’t be up for very long.  Because you can’t do anything in advertising anymore that’s even slightly provocative.  God forbid an ad campaign elicit anything other that eye-rolls or the urge to throw yourself in front of a train.

Fast forward a few days, and it turns out I was right.  All the deeply offended people called in to complain about the billboard, an apology was issued and they’re being taken down.

You know, I’m a pretty inappropriate person, but I know when something goes too far.  I don’t think this billboard did.  It’s unfortunate a few people with an overactive offensive-o-meter have this much power.

I think I’m actually less likely to eat there now that they’re taking the billboards down.  Just grow a set and leave the billboards up.  *sigh*  Oh well, their salsa isn’t that good anyway.

Britney Spears:

Sean Penn:

Bob Barker:

Jessica Simpson:

Betty White:

More nerdy shirts here.  You’re welcome.

Don’t you just want to listen to that kid play the guitar forever?

Not that I’m any kind of guitar expert, but I really loved the crisp sound of the one he plays so I tried to get a little more information.  It’s a Taylor 310, a brand I’ve never actually heard of but that seems to be quite popular.  I told you I was no guitar expert.

Now I’m lost on this guitar review website and have myself convinced the Taylor 610 guitar (A mere $3,000) is the one for me.  Have I mentioned I don’t even know how to play the guitar?

I guess I just can’t do anything but dream big.  Well, and eat cake.  Dream big and eat cake.  New personal motto?  Discuss.

Of course, I like the good singers too.  Particularly the ones that surprise me.  It’s even better when they’re so adorable I can’t get thoughts of kidnapping them out of my brain.  That’s where I’m at with 15-year-old Jacee Badeaux.  I’d like to reassure his parents and law enforcement authorities everywhere that I don’t actually intend to kidnap him.  I’m just going to build a shrine to him in my basement, stalk him a little bit, maybe try to get a vial of his blood, and then come back home.  No biggie.

I’ve watched his audition about 972 times.  I can’t shake the urge to reach out and squeeze his chubby little cheeks.  If I were rich, I’d just pay him to follow me around everywhere while he sings oldies and looks adorable.  And I’d get to squeeze his cheekies whenever I felt like it.

I think if there were ever a case to be made for human cloning, it would be so we could have more of this kid running around the planet.

Here, just see for yourself:

You’re welcome.