Wednesday, January 31, 2007

dr. frank

And here we have Dr. Frank’s Joint and Muscle Pain Relief Spray. The effectiveness of this product is documented here. If it's doctor recommended! AND has been seen on TV!, well, it really must be a miracle. Maybe the vapor molecules coalesce in midair to form the image of Jesus before hurtling down your throat.

I think there’s room in the health and wellness arena for homeopathic remedies and alternative medicine. I’m just not sure there’s a place in that world for a creepy guy who goes by the name of “Dr. Frank” and looks like a child molester from the 70s.

“Heh heh heh, TRUST me—I’m Dr. Frank. Heh heh heh. Yeah, heh heh, follow me behind these bushes and just squirt this under your tongue. Heh heh.”

This in no way suggests that Dr. Frank is, in fact, a child molester. I’m sure Dr. Frank is a perfectly nice, albeit creepy guy who, according to this website, is a “leading health and nutrition educator, author, lecturer, and researcher, as well as a formulator of nutritional supplements.” He’s a formulator, like Dr. FRANKenstein, in his basement brewing up some nasty bubbling concoction made from poison ivy and sulfur and leopard's bane.

According to, Dr. Frank is “one of a select few physicians who devotes all of his career time to the development of nutritional supplements* and the spreading of information about them to public and professional communities.” In other words, he gave up medicine for marketing these oddball recipes to a gullible public. Thanks, Dr. Frank.

And a hearty congratulations to Dr. Walter Lewis (aka "Big Goiter"), who no longer has pain, tenderness, swelling, soreness OR stiffness. That's too bad. I'm sure he was a riot at parties.

*Dr. Frank also brings us Silent Snore, which “works all night long to help you get a great night’s sleep. With no more poking and jabbing from your bed partner, you will awaken feeling refreshed.” Hey, I suppose THAT’s worth a try just to eliminate the bed partner’s unwanted poking and jabbing and subsequent misguided suggestion that 4 a.m. is actually a great time to have sex because everyone else is asleep.

Monday, January 29, 2007

yam cream stops sagging skin, but only if you're a mature woman

OK, now I’m really, really enjoying what it means to be a mature woman. I’m living the dream! I mean, look at all I have to look forward to: saggy breasts, unattractive, flabby skin on my throat, on my tummy AND under my arms, not to even mention whatever’s hanging off my ass. Why, I couldn’t be more pleased to grow old in such an insultingly nauseating way.

Oh, but hey now: yam cream stops all that from happening! Wow, hooray for yam cream! But wait: Why can’t I save myself $9.99, plus S/H, and just whip up a batch of yam cream right in my very own kitchen? First, I’ll get me some yams:

I’ll mash ‘em up, then simply apply to my batwings, my saggy knees and all those other sinking, flabby, droopy, floppy, lassitudinous, pendulous, slouchy, wilting parts of my body.

Honest to frigging God, would you ever expect a man to fall for this bullshit?

Thursday, January 25, 2007

run, don't walk

I decided to post these before the Yam Cream, simply because of their inadvertently funny headlines. And as further proof that no, this isn't some sex catalog I receive because I order sex toys from catalogs. No, I buy my sex toys the old-fashioned way: in disguise at those seedy porn stores with the sweaty fat guy behind the counter.

Friday, January 19, 2007

vibrating invisible man

I received a catalog in the mail yesterday and was intrigued by its contents, which range from sex toys and excessive ear wax removers to bidet sprays and support hose. Not sure exactly who the targeted audience is for this particular catalog--perhaps elderly, incontinent sex slaves.

Anyway, I thought I’d share some of the featured products in the next few posts.

What lucky lady wouldn’t want to have a vibrating invisible man of her very own? All the features a woman wants in a man, without all those pesky unwanted traits, like flatulence and the inability to pick up one’s socks.

The clear 4 ½” sleeve hugs the penis, so you don’t have to!

The super-stretchy ridges delight your partner, no matter what orifice they’re placed into. No need to brush afterward; the vibrating action whisks away tarter buildup.

A testicle strap fits snugly to help prolong erection even when there is none, providing long periods of monumental discomfort followed by short swells of groin-bursting pain.

Add the vibrating mini-bullet— fun and dangerous at the same time! —and feel its multi-speed vibrations travel throughout the entire sleeve, creating the sensation of being fucked by a gerbil!

Requires 3 button cell batteries, and we’ll throw in 3 more free because we know you’ll be taking that vibrating mini-bullet with you everywhere—“for added pleasure.”

Up next: Yam cream

Thursday, January 18, 2007

Pythagoreans shall not touch beans

I finally finished reading The Know-It-All by A.J. Jacobs, an account of his quest to become the smartest person in the world, all the while keeping his tongue in his cheek. It's funny and educational. For instance:

Vinaigrette: A vinaigrette--which was used to battle body odor in the 18th century--was a small gold container with a sponge soaked in vinegar and lavender.

The word "Quaker" was originally an insult, coined to make fun of the members of the Society of Friends for trembling at the word of God.

"Aposiopesis" is the deliberate failure to complete a sentence. As in "Why, I oughta..."

A "gnomon" is a square constructed out of dots or pebbles, and was meant to represent certain numbers. The number 16, for instance, looked like this:

It's a square. You'd get a similar square if you used the number 25.

The Pythagoreans (a kind of fringe cult established by Pythagoras) used the gnomon to figure out the concept of square root. The square root of 16 is the four dots at the bottom of the square. The root of the square: the square root. Kind of one of those terms you take for granted.

There's lots of cool information that he culled from reading the Encyclopaedia Britannica that almost makes me want to read it myself, but not quite. Still, seeing as he's also a famous editor and writer, I was heartened by the fact that--without getting out my own red pen and deliberately rooting through every page for dangling participles and tense disagreement--I effortlessly found a typo on page 212. Yay.

Friday, January 12, 2007


I love KO

Maybe he'll run down the street naked with me!

That would be funny, wouldn't it..Countdown with Keith Olbermann, angrily delivered while running down the street naked holding a sign.

Thursday, January 11, 2007

yeah, but I don't have to swallow

Since my email decorative christmas peace sign idea didn't go viral (I don't think it did, at least not in my neighborhood...I did a big one in blue and green lights, about 3 feet in diameter, and hung it on the porch. It's still there. Yeah, it's tacky but who cares. I thought I'd leave it up until after Bush's speech. Hell, I may leave it up until the troops come home.)

Which it looks like they're not doing anytime soon, what with the Madness of King George ordering more than 20,000 more in to...uh, what were they there to do? Oh, that's right. To be greeted as liberators and spread democracy and freedom because, well, that's the only way we can get at the oil and stay safe within our own borders. Fucking greedy fear-mongers.

Like everyone else, I'm sick and tired of this delusional, pathological liar changing his story over and over again, and then once more asking us to just trust him, THIS time it'll work (classic alcoholic behavior.) And we just roll over and take it. I mean, I'll make the sacrifice and give the guy a blowjob so we can impeach him and get it over with. I'm sure there'd be a long, long line of women and men who would put their own lives and dignity on the line to suck the mustard out of him, if it would result in his impeachment and subsequent criminal charges.

But, since I couldn't do that, at least not on such short notice and not without being wrestled to the ground first by Secret Service, and besides, he probably hasn't had a blowjob in several decades (you can tell by that pinched look on his face)...I decided to just go outside after his speech and chant "Impeach Now!" loud and proud for the neighbors to hear. I was thinking, hey, maybe somebody will come out and join me! That would be cool; an entire block, then another and another, and pretty soon the whole town is chanting "Impeach Now!" and the local news hears about it and covers it, and it's picked up by AP and CNN and the next thing you know, entire communities across the land would be outside chanting, holding hands, lighting candles, drinking beer...what a great scene that would be!

Sadly, however, it was just me out there chanting. I don't think people even came to their windows to find out who was making all that racket. Just a tiny snapshot of what's going on in the country.

Pretty soon I felt a little ridiculous and went inside. But it could happen again, when the neighbors least expect time, maybe I'll run up and down the street naked with a sign. THAT oughta encourage mass participation.

Wednesday, January 10, 2007


I've been completely uninspired since Christmas. Nothing funny is happening around here, unless you want to count Bush's impending speech tonight.

Oh, wait a minute. That's right. We now have one of these:

We recently acquired a female guinea pig from a friend of E's. (I think I'll give up the initial, and call him Boo.) Its name is Cow. I'm not real big on keeping rodents as pets, but the thing's previous owner assured me it's docile, it doesn't do anything, it has few requirements, short of demanding something like a square acre to waddle around on...ok, so it doesn't do anything, it's stupid...what's the point? Where's the meaningful interaction? Ooooh, I get to HOLD it? Great. I can hold one of the boys' stuffed animals and feel the same amount of love.

But Boo wanted it, his friend wanted to get rid of it because he had too many, so we took it on.

A month and a half later, Boo's calling me downstairs.

"Mom! Look! Look!"

"WTF is it?!" I holler. (Not really.)

"Look! Cow caught a mouse!"

Ok, so we get the occasional mouse in our house, and usually Spooky the cat immediately swoops down on it, sadistically toys with it and bats it around, knocking it unconscious and finally rips its head off its torso. Good kitty!

But for a split second, we thought, hey, COW has stepped up to the plate: stealthily escaped her cage, bravely hunted down and captured the mouse and somehow climbed back up the table into her cage and is feasting heartily on her prey.

But then we realize: she's licking her moist, bleeding, still-being-born offspring. Ugh. Needless to say, we had no idea she was pregnant.

Actually, it's kinda cool seeing an animal give birth in your house (unless, of course, you live in Florida, as I had, and witnessed a huge mother cockroach/palmetto bug giving birth in your new apartment's kitchen cabinet.)

So now, Cow has a playmate. The little one, who is yet unnamed, follows her around and squeaks, and Cow pays her no mind. She's not particularly nurturing.

I'm told that guinea pig incest is genetically impossible. Still, I'll have to keep my eye on these two.

Wednesday, January 03, 2007

you'll get beat up

So the principal calls me in to discuss an altercation Remy had in the bathroom with another kid. Turns out he was playing with a kid, and another kid got involved when he shouldn't have, and one thing led to another, the kid starts hitting Remy with the bathroom pass, and Remy calls him a "N-".

The kid--who we find out later is a big crybaby and a bully to boot--runs to the principal.

Remy explains that yes, in fact he DID call him a "N-"...but has no idea what it means. The kid is black.

"Well, how do you know this word?" asks the principal.

"Harry and Potter are always saying it." These are two black kids in the class.

The principal wisely explains what the word means, and why he shouldn't use it.

"You'll get beat up!" he tells Remy.

Later, Remy wants to know why it's ok for black kids to say it, but he can't. I really don't have a good answer for that. "It's not really ok for black kids to say it, but...well, they do, and that's their business. Just know that it's not a word we use and you will get beaten up one day if you do." He doesn't quite understand why one word has so much power. I have mixed feelings about its me, if it's wrong to say it, it's wrong for everybody to say it.

In any event, he knows now not to say it again, but he's free--when he's older--to enjoy listening to Chris Rock or Samuel L. Jackson use it in the movies.