Happy New Year, Guys!

I'm off to talent show practice number one for my Urchins. It should prove to be interesting, if not headache inducing.

The Breeches fall tonight at midnight. Five foot tall yellow pants. From a flag pole. A good time will be had by all I'm sure.

I hope you guys have a safe and happy new years eve!

via GIPHY

See you in 2016!!

I Dig Them Up

It's up to you to decide whether or not to watch them. Here are some ca-RAAA-zy videos. Warning: you will never get the time back that you spent watching them. Plus, you may never get over it. Tongue In Cheek and its affiliates are not responsible for loss of time or brain cells in the watching of these videos. Watch at your own risk.

First--Charo


Next--Hasselhoff


I share with love. Truly. You needed to know these things existed. You're now a better person.

You're welcome.

When We Last Left Our Intrepid Heroine...

She was escaping from crazed kidnapping carny folk. (As such)

Okay, that's not quite the truth.

What is the truth is that life around here at Chez Quinn has been hectic to say the least.

The BFF is getting married Saturday, and the Urchins and I are all in it. Youngest Urchin is in freakout mode. She cannot do the wedding walk and toss petals at the same time. So now it's become this huge psychotic psychological block. Which I have done every good mom thing there is to assuage her fears, and now it's just funny. My girl apparently can't walk and chew bubble gum.  I have not informed the bride. Waiting to see how it pans out on Saturday. Hilarity will, I'm sure, ensue.

My mother-in-law had her cancer surgery, and it looks like no radiation treatment will be necessary. Hooray!

My father-in-law has finally gotten over his month long pneumonia, but it put his heart back into atrial fibrillation. He had his heart converted with the paddles of life/AED last week. Receiving an electro shock while awake. This is the 6th time they've had to do it. He's still recovering, but his heart is back in rhythm.

Back to school has been bumpier than usual. The three year olds are still crying. My job is now officially called Snot Sweat and Tears. Decontamination showers will be installed outside the door to my house  shortly.

Youngest Urchin is having her back to school separation issues, which twists the knife in me but good as they say.

Oldest Urchin loves school but has enormous amounts of homework and wants to start playing an instrument.

Lots of other goings on have been taking over my life, but I've bored you enough already. Time to dive back into the crazy.

And here it is.

While camping for two weeks this summer, at our first stop, I found an example of the importance of the proper use of commas. This sign was posted at the first campground we stayed in.

Way to insult your guests, there, campground.

Were all the adults of the campground deemed "slow"? Or was there a subset of adults in the slow group? Did they drive the short campers? And most importantly, was I included in the description of slow adults? I refused to believe my mental capacities should be called into question, especially after I discovered something even more significant than the improper exclusion of a comma.

This pole, with its insulting sign, is secretly a portal to hell. Why? Because it smelled like goat. Yes. Goat. And no I didn't sniff the pole. It emanated goat smell. And as anyone who has watched the episode Red Rum from The Mentalist knows, Cho, my favorite character, has declared goats are of the devil. And I believe him. (I can't find that particular clip anywhere on the web, so here's a different equally funny Cho clip. Just pretend it's the other one.)



Anywho, back to the pole. We had to pass it on our walk to the pool. And every time I came near it, there was the smell of a thousand goats. But the horrific stench wasn't everywhere, like when a skunk gets flattened on the roadside. No, this was in one specific spot. Two steps in any direction from said spot, and the smell...disappeared.

Me walking, stops. To the Man: What is that smell?

The Man: What smell?

Me: The one that smells like the insides of a hundred goats in the middle of the desert.

The Man, gives me the look he saves for when he really thinks I've gone off reservation: Yeah, I don't smell anything.

Me: Come here. I'll watch the girls. Just stand right here and tell me that stench wouldn't knock a buzzard off a shit wagon.

The Man, vaguely standing in spot in middle of road where I placed him: That's Epoxy or something.

Me: You are so wrong.

The Man staunchly refused to recognize the imminent peril our family was in and instead made his way blithely with the Urchins to the pool. But I knew. I knew there was evil emanating from that pole. It was only because of the constant vigilance on my part that we weren't sucked down into the bowels of Hell every time we passed that bad boy. And thus we were able to continue our vacation as I, the unsung hero, herded the young 'uns past that pole with all due haste.

So to my family I say, "You're welcome."

And since we survived the devil's telephone pole, I was able to go on and have other crazed camping adventures which I will reveal in my next post.

Until next time, Citizens! Stay away from goat reeking devil poles!

You Will NOT Believe This

Unless you see it. And since I have, I, of course had to share it with all of you because, really, misery loves company.

I'm still drowning in chaos over here at Chez Quinn. My mother and father-in-law are both slowly but surely on the mend. Thanks for all your thoughts and well wishes for them. I'll be posting more regularly in September, but for now... you don't want to miss this.



She's a Prancing Queen, y'all!

Until next time, Citizens! Keep on prancing!

Welcome To Club Earth

So The Man, the Urchins and I visited some beautiful local caverns recently. We, of course, hit the gift shop-- where we saw this display.

Didn't know there was a membership, though I should have suspected since I've been paying dues.

Apparently this club has an agenda.

And probably a manifesto. A long one.

So the Urchins and The Man are all home for the summer and there are many distractions.

I'm getting scary-obsessive with finishing my edits, and I'm finding things out about myself as I do. Not much of it good. (I never knew I was prone to wild mood swings and such violent thoughts.) Considering I'm all paid up with my Club Earth dues, here's hoping everyone survives.

So what are you doing this summer? Any crazy editing induced violence/craziness you'd like to share? I'm all ears. (said like Dolf in that Van Damme movie.)

AtoZ Witnesses of the Jehovah Kind

Hi again all my new AtoZ friends! I'm Ava and I'm bringing you up to speed with some of my menagerie of mayhem around here at Tongue In Cheek by giving you a bunch of crazy reruns.  Back in 2009 I acquired a zealot who made house calls and who wouldn't take no for an answer. She persisted to try and save me three times. Below you will find the transcripts of each altercation. Enjoy!

Unbelievable

So I'm at home on this rainy Tuesday, feeling sick. (Big frickin' surprise, I've been sick since the beginning of March.) And there's a tentative knock on my only-used-by-strangers front door that is semi blocked by crap and only opens half-way. The dogs go ballistic, and I get ready for the inevitable.

Yes. It's the Jehovah's Witnesses.

Now, I'm usually a polite person. They're following their doctrine, and I can respect that. But when the person you're trying to convert is hacking all over you and not inviting you in and trying politely to let you know that they're not interested and holding back the hounds of hell so they don't tear your throat out and is not feeling well, STFU and leave them be!

Now, not only do they not shut up, and I can't shut the door because then one of my dogs would get cut in half, but they wrap up their spiel trying to elicit a promise from me that I'll read over their pamphlet and talk to them about it when I'm done.

What?

Don't come to my house and assign me frickin' homework! WTH?! Do you think you're going to administer a pop quiz when you get back? The woman actually said, "I want you to promise me that you'll read over this literature so when we come back we can discuss it."

Lady, are you fucking nuts? If you do come back, I don't care about the busy road in front of my house, I'm releasing the hounds. Do you really think I want to discuss anything with a person so driven by doctrine that you have no common sense or courtesy for the sick? Do you really think I want to choose my faith from a door to door salesman? Do you really believe that because I'm a polite person and didn't back you off my property with a gun in your face that I'm going to invite you in for a coffee clatch about your propoganda rag?

Suffice it to say, nice ended and snarky stepped up. I replied, "If you do come back, you'd better bring some different wares to sell because I ain't buying what you're shilling now." And shut the door.

Yeah, I'm going to Hell, but I knew that way before they hit my front porch.

Hello, Satan

"Hello, Satan? Yes, I'd like to book a table."

"At the moment, for one, but you may want to keep a few chairs handy, I think I might be joined by some friends."

"Yeah. Ok. I'd like it to be in the non-smoking section, please."

"Oh. There isn't a non-smoking section. All right. Hmmm. Could it be in a quiet, corner? Maybe something a little intimate and cozy?"

"Yes, as far away from the screaming and fiery pits as possible would be nice. Thanks."

"Okay. See you then!"

Yes the Jehovah's Witnesses were back. Don't worry. I dispatched them quickly. No, not under the loose boards of my porch.

The sad thing is, I don't think I've seen the last of her. I'm getting the feeling she's attached herself like a pit bull to my ass. Like I'm some pet project. I'll fix her. Even if I have to turn the hose on her.

Damn, I wish I had those flying monkeys.

Can You Believe It?!?

The Jehovah's Witnesses came back! AGAIN! They were just here. I, in polite but no uncertain terms, told them not to darken my door ever again.

The woman had the audacity to tell me that I asked her to come back! Now, what person in their right mind would ask the JW's to come back? Seriously? Who? Especially at nine o'clock in the morning! If you've been following the saga,(here and here) you know I definitely did not.

So now some delusional zealot is out there unleashed on the unsuspecting populace, knocking on doors in her sensible shoes, and pestering others.

Hmmm. I'm okay with that, I've taken my share of abuse. It's time to spread it around a little. In fact, I gave her Vicki and Natalie's addresses, and told her they would love to sit and chat with her.

Well, gotta go. I'm too busy laughing evilly and rubbing my hands together to type any more. Have a good weekend!

AtoZ Transgressions Against Hello Kitty

Welcome AtoZ hoppers! So glad you chose to drop in at Tongue In Cheek today. We've almost completed our re-run tour of Tongue In Cheek. The letter T today stands for Transgressions. Now, I'm not really a Hello Kitty fan, but this goes a bit far. Which, if you've spent any time at all around here, you know is right up my alley. Please enjoy this 2009 post.

Hello Kitty Doms




What is wrong with this picture? (Well, there's lots of things, but I'm going for the really whacked out portion.)

Take another look. Are you seeing this or have I fallen and hit my head?

Why is a man posing like this, and how did he get those pants on?



OMG! There's two!!!



Holy crap! Three??



I'm not even sure where to begin here. Hello Kitty Doms? These guys fall into the muzac category. Were these men really that hard up for work? What was the thought process that went through the minds of each of these guys when they took on this job? Was it a twelve step sort of thing where it finally ended in sad acceptance?

You know when they were getting dressed for this gig, there was no eye contact between these men at all in the back dressing room. Yet they are now bound by something like a fraternal order, with silence being the key.

So let's hear it. Lay it on me. What do you think? Even if it's just open-mouthed shock.

AtoZ Karaoke In The Pokey

Hi AtoZ fanatics! Glad to have you here. My theme for this year is The Best of Tongue In Cheek, which translated means-reruns! Yes, all the crazy goodness of the past, served up fresh and new, just for you. Today's offering from 2010 is...

Karaoke in the Pokey

Yes. You heard me. Prison Karaoke. If you don't remember, my best friend works at a prison. She always has great stories, and I've been saving this one.

On holidays, since many of the prison workers are off, the ones who work those days set up special events since there's not enough staff to run the regular activities such as basketball, the weight room, etc. So this year they decided to have an American Idol sort of competition with karaoke.

One of the semifinalists of the first round sang James Brown's Baby I Got That Feeling. Here's James Brown himself performing part of it.



The inmate who performed it apparently did every James Brown patented move along with a few others thrown in to boot and almost needed to be carried from the stage from exhaustion. He couldn't sing very well, but the showmanship alone carried him on to the finals.

In the finals, he belted out Michael Jackson's Dirty Diana.



According to my source, he only knew the chorus and sang that at the top of his lungs. Again, showmanship carried the day over actual singing talent as he performed every Michael Jackson move known to man.

He beat out the only other competition, who, by the way, could actually sing, but was so nervous he sang very quietly and twirled his hair as he did. Not really a move to get you the votes during Karaoke in the Pokey, or so I have come to understand. Though it probably got him a boyfriend or three.

James Brown/Michael Jackson in an orange jumpsuit won twenty five bucks and some notoriety around the prison. Not sure if that last part was a good thing or will turn around to bite him in the ass. Pretty literally.

But this is what I'm trying to convince my best friend to organize next. I think it would be great for morale and more importantly, excellent fodder for my blog.





Until next time, Citizens!

The Eyes Have It

I went back to the ophthalmologist yesterday, thankfully he didn't try to shiv my eye again. I did get my eyes dilated, which is never a picnic. And he found that I have eye infections in both eyes. So one heating eye mask, a box of eye wipes and a tube of antibiotic/steroid ointment later, I now am on a highly involved eye care regimen for the next month until I see him again.

Hopefully this will help my writing. I've found for the past few months, looking at my computer screen for overly long amounts of times really inflamed my eyes. I dubbed it computer induced eye sunburn. Apparently It may have just been double eye infections. Leave it to me to identify and over-name something incorrectly.

On Monday of this week I had two small cavities filled, and the spot where they injected the Novocaine is still pretty tender. I'm not a big fan of doctors this week.

Onto other news. I finaled in a writing contest in June, and the winners are supposed to be announced by Sunday. I'm really nervous, so any good mojo you all could send on the airwaves would be completely appreciated.

Coming soon to a Tongue In Cheek Blog Near You

Vacation picture infliction Part Deux

and

Squirrel Boxing - The Montana Update

Until next time, Citizens!

My Opthalmologist Tried To Shiv My Eye

Okay, that might be a bit of an overstatement. But still, it was a terrifying encounter.

So I'm in the chair at the eye doctor with my chin on the chin rest, and the ocular device that always reminds me of some type of steam punk contraption is lowered in front of my eyes. And I'm feeling a bit like Hannibal Lecter in his face cage. I refrained from telling the doctor I loved his suit. (Yay me. Look at my growth in the self restraint department.)

Anywho, the bright white light is shining in my eye, so all I have is my peripheral vision, and all the while the doctor is quietly talking in eye doctor jargon to the nurse about what he sees. All of the sudden I catch him saying in his low monotone, ". . . a lash on lower right epilating."

My brain latched onto that word, epilating. I knew I'd heard it before or some derivation thereof. And then I remembered it deals with skin and the epidermis. Then my brain jumped to The EPILADY! (Cue voice of doom.)

That's when I see him reach down and grab the hugest, pointiest pair of tweezers I've ever seen and start raising them towards my eye! I don't even have time to blink. Literally. And then they are at my eye and I can only see the edges of what's going on because the white light is still blinding me and I'm trying to talk myself down from going towards the light in a whole Poltergeist sort of way and then he grabs my eyelash and rips it out of my head.

It hurt like hell! And yet I survived to tell the tale.

The doctor acted like he was doing me a favor since apparently it was poking my eye. Which I didn't feel. Though for two days after I felt exactly where he'd ripped it out of my eyelid.

So, eyelash plucking. Apparently just one more service my ophthalmologist offers that I  really could have done without.

So have you ever had unexpected adventures in the doctor's office? Or is it just me?

Wait. What?? Um, No. Just No.

Have you heard about this? I mean this even penetrated my environmental field day haze. Dunkin' Donuts is revealing a new breakfast sandwich this month.

Peppered egg, and bacon or a sausage patty between two halves of a GLAZED DOUGHNUT!!! Seriously. They're doing it.  This month. Check it out.

What's next, dipping it in guacamole and deep frying it?

I'm not sure what to say, so you say it for me in the comments.

It's Definitely A Bad Sign When

You pull a muscle as you attempt to hook your sports bra. I mean, I hadn't even made it to Zumba class and I'm already injured? What the hell?!

The only thing worse is as I get older, I find that I go to bed feeling okay, but wake up with a pulled hammy. And I didn't do anything during the night in the bed to sustain an injury. I'm just old! How do I go to bed fine and then wake up injured? What is that about?

I blame the sea monkeys.

Well, I still went to my Zumba class. Not the one I last reported on. You remember, the one I wanted to stage a coup and take over. Hostil-y. A la Joan of Arc in Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure. I now attend Zumba at the roller rink. Yes, the roller rink! It's so awesome. They turn down the house lights and get the disco globe going and the colored party lights. I'm hooked.

So I didn't injure myself further, though this has been the week of injuries/frailties for me. I had that ear infection, I banged my head wicked hard (it's still tender) on the corner of the door jam of my kitchen,(the man still thinks I may have slightly concussed myself) and now the sports-bra-hooking injury. It reminds me of the time I almost killed myself due to deeply ingrained girly tendencies.

Ahhh, good times.

So are there any weird things happening to you as you get older? (Why do I have the feeling it's just me.)

I'm Repaying You In Re-Runs

To those of you still hanging around here at Tongue in Cheek during this crazy month where I've been absent due to family medical emergencies - I thank you. And how do I thank you? With re-runs.

Sorry it couldn't be in bail bonds, but I may just need them for myself later.

So I'm starting my summer re-runs a little early this year. For those of my readers who are easily offended or have squeamish constitutions, probably best to skip this one. For the rest of you hard core Tongue-In-Cheekers - Enjoy and rock on!

 The Good, The Bad & The Ugly

Down But Not Out

Sorry for the radio silence, Citizens. Seems I've been gone long enough for Blogger to change everything, so let's see how well this post goes.

I worked all weekend scoring assessments for the most disabled students in the state. I was there five hours on Friday night, eleven and a half hours on Saturday and seven hours on Sunday. You're basically sequestered in a cubicle farm with 250 teachers, hunched over a computer screen. I have a little bit of a feel for what a call center in New Delhi is like.

 I didn't have too many gut wrenching videos to score this time, but my WTF-o-meter is still blaring loud and clear. And I know deep down in my heart that there is a special place in Hell reserved for bureaucrats and bean counters.

But I survived, and I'm a believer in the old adage, "What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger." Let's hope the next two scoring weekends don't finish me off.

I, of course, picked up a bug of some sort. I mean, it was inevitable. Lock over 200 teachers from all over the state with their very own pool of germs school and confine us together in a windowless, poorly ventilated room for a weekend, and yeah, it's gonna happen.

So that is the main reason for the radio silence here at TiC. Exhaustion and germ warfare.

 So how was your weekend?

You Got Here How?

Yes there are many ways to find me here at Tongue In Cheek. My mother would be so proud of some of the most popular search terms that land people on my electronic doorstep. Phrases such as:

possum tongue - Though who is looking for possum tongue, I'll hopefully never know.

possum ninja - Naturally. Who wouldn't be searching for possum ninjas. In fact. I may need to recruit some to be my new minions.

hillbilly carnival - Yes, that would be here.

big belly overalls - See above. They go hand in hand, or belly in denim as the case may be.

old man helmet red high heels - Okay. Yes. That gets you here. (I strongly advise against clicking that link as there is also a leopard print banana hammock involved.)

And the all time most sought out key words that will land you here are Heinz Doofenshmirtz. Yes, ever since I publicly admitted my love of the evil dr, many have ended up here at the craziness that is TiC.

So, dare you admit what landed you here in my web? Inquiring minds want to know!

Remember Those Hello Kitty Doms?*

If not, let me refresh your memory.

One For The WTF Files

This was the first entry in my WTF category. If you choose to peruse that section of my blog, please do so at your own risk.




*shameless ploy to pass off a re-run, as my mother is still visiting from Montana.

Squirrel Boxing

Yes, squirrel boxing. Taxidermy style.



Apparently, some time around the 1930's it became popular to mount dead squirrels in a boxing ring, wearing trunks.



These coveted works of art are difficult to find, but they came to my attention because a gentleman in my area listed one for sale on Craigslist.

For $250.

(That's with the ring.)

Upon further investigation, (because, really, how could I not) it was found that there's no limit to what taxidermied squirrels can do.

As such.







Or even more lethal, and my personal favorite.



So, what is it that you would have your taxidermy squirrels engaging in? (And yes, they even have them doing that.)

Iowa Knows How To Do It!

Okay, I'm still reeling from my four day carny extravaganza. But here is something to tide you over until I can recover and get back to you with my full report.

At the Iowa State Fair they are making deep fried butter on a stick. I kid you not.

Diversified Possum Uses

As the county's reigning 'Possum Queen for the Pot Bellied Processed 'Possum Products Company (tm), it was pointed out to me in the fine print of my contract that I should be endorsing, not only the company's fine product line of canned 'possum delights, but doing my "darned-tootinest" to further the best image of 'possum and 'possum related products.

So to that end, I offer my 'possummy endorsement of the following 'possum products and organization.

First and foremost, there's The Opossum Society of the United States. Though they focus more on keeping opossums alive instead of ingesting them.

You can also show your support by wearing your opossum on your sleeve, or wherever else you may want to.

Girls, let the world (or at least your trailer park) know of your 'possum pride. Announce your love of all things 'possum across your chest.



Guys, let the neighbors know just what you're grilling on the back porch.



Don't forget the special sauce!



For that touch of class, gents, you can always import your possum for that distinguished look to let your redneck town know you're a cut above the rest.

And ladies, for the ever discerning gal who endeavors to be her trailer park's trend setter, may I suggest 'possum nipple warmers? You'll be the envy of your trailerhood.



I know not much can follow that major statement of female 'possum fashion, but not to be outdone, men, you can even get a 'Possum Fur Willie Warmer. Apparently in several different sizes and colors.



So there you have it, folks. Your very own picture pile of 'possummy products. Let me know which are your favorites! I just can't decide.

Tree Knitting? Seriously?

I have never seen a clearer need for someone to get laid.

Why don't they just post a sign in the front yard stating
Knitter In Desperate Need of Sex
Inquire Within