Three sure signs that the Apocolypse is near.

Everybody have a good weekend?  Me too.  Fall is here and we are having the kind of days that make being outside tolerable again.  Two of my four kids have learned to ride a two- wheel bike, and Mike is fairly confident that L's speed and spotty riding skills will earn her a trip to the ER sometime soon.  But right now, it's just fun to see her little-midget, half-blind self tearing it up on the hill right next to our driveway!

But enough about me.  Let's talk about people who are REALLY crazy. 

Steven Tyler on American Idol:

Really.  Really?  Is he sober enough for this?  Who am I kidding, Idol was at its most enjoyable when Paula was tossing herself a big ol' salad of pain killers.  Touche, producers.  I see what you are doing here and I like it.  And if Steve-O can throw in a few "wa-ba-do-bee-ya-ya-ya's" then that can only be awesome.  Right?  Right. 

And I'm pretty sure that Jennifer Lopez has some sort of clause in her contract that allows her to drain all  of Steven Tyler's blood, for the purposes of feeding it to her vampire-husband, Marc Anthony.  Just a feeling, because that dude just don't seem right.  Or tan enough, for being Puerto Rican.  Ya know. 

Children's Halloween Costumes:

Dear people who make trampy kid's costumes--STOP it.  Stop it, RIGHT now.  I am so disturbed by the image of 5 year olds in knee-high black boots and fishnets and skanky fairy tale costumes that I might lobby Congress about it.  Pedophilia is a LEGITIMATE problem, let's not perpetuate it.  I'm talking to you, BRATZ.  Or people who make Bratz dolls (probably the DEVIL).  Goldilocks did not wear a pair of Daisy Dukes with the word "Juicy" appliqued on her arse. 

Dear Parents who buy trampy kid's costumes--STOP it.  Stop it right now.  Do what any sane and hilarious parent does, drink some *hot cider* and dress your kid up as a Smurf, complete with blue face paint (this was my ACTUAL costume when I was 7, and it was SCARY-crazy awesome).  Make sure it's a costume that is SO HIDEOUS it will make their skin crawl as a teenager (translation:  blackmail material). Take A LOT of pictures and use them liberally in your child's wedding slide show.  No one wants to see your kid's arse, it makes us uncomfortable.  But laughing at their expense, at a formal dinner hosted years later in their adulthood?  Priceless.

You know, while we're at it, I have a small bone to pick with the people who make WOMEN's costumes--Not all of us want to live out some childhood fantasy of becoming a stripper.  I do not have a body that fits the *dimensions* most fitting of someone who can circle a metal pole with only her toes.  Also, I live in the Midwest, and if I even think about exposing my stomach skin near November, then it will potentially see it's shadow and crawl back in it's deep, dark hole (Yeah!) where it will attempt to eat Spring. 

Dress Barn:

I've talked to several of you about this offense to women and clothing and livestock, and I just don't get it.  I don't get who in their RIGHT MIND would name a store after a place that sounds like it outfits cattle.  Dresses made for cows?  Or dresses made for women who look like cows?  Shaped like cows?  What the hell.  But then I watched the VMA's and it ALL made sense.   

I had no idea you could actually kill your dress in the store and WEAR it home.  Gross.  But certainly, your name now makes sense, and it is a very *unique* business model.   However.  If you make a pair of underwear out of bacon to satisfy the tastes of one very odd Gaga, then I will vomit.  In your store.  For reals. 

 That's all I've got folks.  Love  ya.