i know i haven't been around much lately but i just really needed to make a quickie post about this one. heehee. i said quickie. yep, still got the brains of a 7-year old boy.

anybeezers, just read it, okay? trust.

The Non-Football Fan's Guide to the World Cup

and you're welcome.

p.s. can anything be more annoying than the sound of a bajillion vuvuzelas being blown?! it literally sounds like all the world's killer bees banding together and deciding to take over the universe. and i hate killer bees. DOWN. WITH. VUVUZELAS.

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I went running today. 

And by running, I really mean jogging. 

Okay, it really wasn't jogging so much as walking at a really really really slow leisurely pace.

But don't you judge me, Judge Judy. 

Because I almost got murdered today. 

By a hawk. A red-faced hawk. Or maybe it was an eagle. Or a falcon. Or a vulture! CRAP.

Whatever.

It was a HUGE bird. 

And it was following me the entire time. 

Except not really, because I started running and waving my hands like a crazy madwoman which probably freaked my neighbors out but hey, you do what you have to do. 

So yea, the bird eventually stopped following me because it got scared. Or maybe it just had better things to do like find other food sources that didn't run around screaming "Killer bird on the loose! Killer bird on the loose!" while throwing rocks at them*. 

Yup.

Anyhoodle, I got home and decided that taking walks around my neighborhood might not be the safest option for a delicate flower like me, what with killer birds and flying insects running loose. 

But because I'm determined to get in shape lose 15 lbs not be Huffy McPuffy everytime I go up a flight of stairs, I looked up other exercise options I could do within the comfort of my own bed safe confines of my home. 

Lookie-here what I found. *clapping hands giddily*

1) The Face Trainer for my face. Yes, you heard me right. MY. FACE. Ellen Degeneres' producer demonstrates the product way better than any infomercial or customer testimonial could ever do, so I'm posting that. Abso-fucking-lutely hilarious! And yes, I'm getting one. 

  

2) The Rio Neck Toner for my neck and chin. Nuff said.  

3) The Shake Weight for my biceps and triceps. This could either be really sensual or really offensive, depending on how you look at it. And hey, it's got a his and hers model! Per-fuck-to!

For women:

For men:

4) The Easy Curves for my chest. Of course, I'm doing this with only a bra on. That's the whole point!

5) The Hawaii Chair for my abs. This could totally work, except I don't sit still long enough for it to actually work. Except when I'm in the toilet. Yes, someone should invent a Hawaii Toilet! Except crap would splatter all over which would be gross.

6) The Flex Belt for my abs. You know, since the Hawaii chair might not be enough to turn my 1-pack into a 6-pack by the time summer rolls around the corner of I-found-the-perfect-bikini Road and I'm-too-chunky-to-wear-it Avenue. 

7) The 3-minute Legs for my legs and buns. Hell to the yeah.  

8) The Kegel + Smart Balls for my vagaloo. Ob-vious-ly, my lady bits get exercise, too. By the highway, Mr. Kegel looks mighty creepy. Just sayin. 

So, there you go. A full body workout without leaving your bedroom! You're welcome. 

* Oh, relax PETA. I was exaggerating. I didn't actually throw rocks at the killer bird. In "fight or flee" situations, I always choose the latter. I'm an animal lover like that. No, not really. Clearly, I'm just a big wuss. Whatever.

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ALL single men should read this post from Life Uncensored.

I don't understand why guys are so clueless when it comes to this particular issue.

Go figure.

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So, I have a theory.

I think pimples, instead of being caused by excessive oil and dirt or skin bacteria as previously believed, are actually the result of getting farted at in the face. Or fart-faced, if you may.

I mean, it totally makes sense.

See, when my nephew was a wee tiny baby, I loved playing with his stubby toes whenever I was forced was bribed volunteered to change his diaper. I thought it would make the ordeal less painful more fun for me both of us. I'm a cool aunt like that. I suppose he didn't find my idea of fun fun or funny even because as I was giving his toesies little kissies one day, he decided it would be more amusing to fart in my face. My nephew, my sweet adorable nephew, released a gust of air so repugnant, it was hard to believe it was coming from such a charming little bugger. I looked at him in horror. He looked at me with glee. We both ended up guffawing with laughter. When I woke up the next day, BAM! I had a pimple on my face.

Not to mention the unlimited number of times my sister's dog breaks wind. I mean, she walks on all fours so she never technically has an opportunity to fart in my face, unless she does so when I'm asleep which I think she would totally do if given the opportunity because she's a b*tch like that. No worries. I still love her to bits. Anyhoo, believe me when I say that her farts are so intense, so . . . powerful, that they would probably cause acne in half of Chicago's pubescent population before the year is over. So yes, I blame her farts not only for Chitown's teen angst but also  for my grown-up pimples. Yep, I blame the dog for everything nowadays. Totally works.

You are probably now asking yourself why you're still reading this lame post why I suddenly dredged up all these bad fart-face memories from so long ago (read: a few months back).

Well, let me tell you.

I was at work yesterday and one of my patients was a mean cranky old fart. Get it? Cranky old fart. Bahahaha! I crack myself up. Wait, crack?! Wahahahaha! I'm a hoot.

Anytwat, the old gent had this really bad wound in the gluteus maximus area and of course, I was assigned to change the dressing on said wound. When I got to his room armed with my supplies, I found him asleep. Since his dressing was already soaked with drainage and I didn't want his wound to get infected, I tried to wake him up by calling out his name. He was a bit hard of hearing, so I called out louder a few more times. Nope, not one flicker of the eyelids. Since yelling at patients isn't really allowed on my floor and because I'm such a smart nurse, I decided that poking him in the shoulder might do the trick. I stood beside his bed and gave him a double poke for good measure. Poke, poke. My brilliant plan worked. It worked too well, in fact, that my patient got extremely upset for getting "scared shitless", and yelled at me for "being stupid" and "almost giving him a heart attack". Whoa. Calm down, old geezer. Be a little bit more pleasant, why don't ya?! Geez. So after he was done with his little tirade temper tantrum, I apologized sweetly and informed him that I needed to give his butt a dressing change. I didn't say it that way, of course, since we're not allowed to say butt on my floor either. I always just call it ass, especially if the patient is one. *snicker*

Well, I proceeded to help him turn to his side and once this was done, I arranged all my supplies on the bed. I squatted down to his level for good body mechanics and better visualization, unknowingly putting my face in direct line of fire. I then took off the old dressing and started cleaning the wound when, out of nowhere, KABLAM! The patient farts in my face.

IN. MY. FACE.

Don't get me wrong. I am not a fart elitist, a fart-ist if you may. Not at all. I am actually tolerant of most malodorous and putrid odors. I have to be to survive working in a hospital. Thing is, my patient's fart was one of the worst smells I have ever come across. Seriously. It was silent. And deadly. And totally caught me off-guard. The stench was so bad, I vomited in my mouth a little bit. No joke. I actually had to excuse myself, saying that I needed to get more supplies, because tears were starting to flow down my face. I ran out of the room, took a few minutes to breathe in take gasps of clean fresh air, and forced myself to go back in and finish the unpleasant task. I went back into the pungent room with a mask on my face since I was determined not to get blindsided a second time, and finished the dressing change in record time.

Anyway, I've unintentionally gone off course here. Going back to my original point, guess what I saw on my face when I woke up today. A freaking pimple! A HUGE FART-INDUCED PIMPLE on my freaking face! I should've known this would happen.

So based on the evidentiary information I have presented, my theory is clearly founded on scientific facts. Obviously.

Teens and oily-faced adults the world over can now give a collective sigh of relief because of this scientific breakthrough.

I have singlehandedly obliterated teenage angst and adult low self-esteem.

Just avoid getting fart-faced. It's that simple.

I should get a Nobel Prize for this, I swear.

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