White, American Jesus says "Happy 4th of July!"

And if they continue to displease me I shall throw dirt in their tank for 40 days and 40 nights. I smite thee, Sea Monkey sinners!

I realize I totally suck as a blogger because I have let a million years go by without posting anything. I have no excuse. I started a post a couple of days ago about how I sort of peed my pants at work, but there really was nothing more to say about it than that.

I feel sad that I have neglected my blog. It's how I used to feel when I would get tired of my Sea Monkeys and I would stop feeding them and they would all stop swimming around and I would cry because I totally killed their whole Sea Monkey village like some vengeful God of the Sea Monkeys.

Holy crap! I was totally their God! God Lemish. That is so freaking awesome! I think I'm going to buy some new Sea Monkeys and feed them long enough so that their society has time to evolve and build the awesome castles that I was promised on the front of the box. I will make them build images in my likeness and punish them when they have not pleased me by unleashing a plague of goldfish on their asses. Let's see how long those fuckers keep having pre-marital Sea Monkey sex after that.

More on string-instrument porn and some random pictures from the vault of Lemish

Three people have found my blog by searching for "ukulele porn." To those three people I apologize for not having a greater selection of ukulele porn included in my blog. I did my best by making a plea to the porno industry that they merge these two great arts into one supreme masterpiece; I cannot be faulted that they did not heed my call. They, like so many before them, lack the vision that we, The Enlightened Ukulele Porn Lovers, share.

Oh, here are some unused pictures that I have saved because I thought I might use them someday but never did. Unrelated to ukulele porn, but still equally as pointless possibly interesting:

For an unpublished post about the dangers of flying penises. An update to my mom's crazy warnings.

This was for a time when I saw a guy with no arms and legs being pulled on a skateboard by a dog. The problem with that post was that there was really no place to go from there. My post would have been one sentence: "Holy shit! I just saw some guy with no arms and legs being pulled on a skateboard by a dog!" Okay, I guess that was technically two sentences. But Jesus Christ, quit being so picky. The dude had NO ARMS AND LEGS. He can't be expected to be perfect! Give him his damn two sentences and shut up about it!

This is a man smoking a tiny pipe. That's all I have to say about that.

Here is a cute parasitic worm. I love parasites. Not in the way that I would personally want one, but I love to hear other people's stories about their parasites and how gross they are. One of my favorite pastimes is watching youtube videos of people removing botfly larva from their bodies. I totally don't watch videos about them or anything though. What kind of sick person would do that!?!? Sick fucks, that's who. (I named him Chester.)

Here is a picture of my friend Katrina playing the world's largest tuba. I think this was for a plan I had about creating a marching band where everyone carried huge instruments. I still might put this plan into action, so nobody steal it because I'm pretty sure it's awesome.

I forgot to post this for a special Christmas greeting.

My head on The Last Unicorn's body. This was just for my personal use.

And Jesus's hair, The dino swiping the air, Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there

No one ever tells you not to spray your junk with Scrubbing Bubbles because it burns and will not make it less purple. I just did. You're welcome.

Sweet Jesusaurus, I made a terrible mistake today. It's kind of a sensitive subject, but there's no reason to beat around the bush (you'll see in a second how that is a totally hilarious pun.)

As I mentioned previously, Lemish's Husband and myself are in the home buying process. And because this process is basically an ass raping very expensive, we have been trying to cut back and save as much money as possible. Because of this, I have been trying to do things myself at home that I wouldn't normally try. For instance, I cooked dinner this week. AT HOME! IN OUR KITCHEN! It was crazy. I also vacuumed myself for about five minutes the other day until the whole thing started smoking, shaking, and making a high pitched squeal. I called my husband and told him the vacuum either died or was having some kind of sexual experience. He said "it probably died of shock because someone other than me touched it." I could tell he was proud of me.

So tonight, as another cost saving measure, I thought I could cut back on some of my grooming costs and try an at-home bikini wax. NEVER TRY THIS!!!!

Everything started okay. The wax melted smoothly in the microwave, and I applied it without burning myself. The cloth strip went on easily and I followed the timed directions. However, when I went to remove the strip, something went horribly, horribly wrong.

First of all, fuck. It hurt like nothing I have ever experienced. When I was ten a piece of glass from our fish tank sliced through my ankle after I stomped on it because my mom was being mean and I was trying to teach her a lesson. I had a 5 inch piece of glass covered in fish shit sticking out of my leg for 30 minutes before I got to the hospital, and let me tell you, that pain was NOTHING compared to attempting to pull this wax strip off of my junk.

The other problem, after I awoke from my pain induced blackout, was that the wax was not coming off completely. Some of it was stuck to my body and some of it was stuck to the strip. So what was left was, forgive me for this image, a big, sticky, purple mess of pubic hair, skin, and wax. By this point there was also wax, and hair, and skin, stuck to my hands. So everything I tried to touch to help get this shit off of me was also now covered in wax, and hair, and skin. It was fucking disgusting.

I attempted to clean myself off in the shower, but it really didn't do much. I spent about an hour and a half in there trying every cleaning product I could think of. Finally my husband came up to see what the hell was going on and he found me spraying my junk with a bottle of Scrubbing Bubbles. He looked all flustered and kind of backed away saying, "Oh. I was just coming to see if you were okay. You'd been up here for a while..... Looks like you have everything under control here...." And then he left. I tried to drop the bottle of Scrubbing Bubbles to explain myself, but it was stuck to my hand. I had no choice but to keep scrubbing.

Finally I had rubbed enough skin off so that I couldn't see anymore purple gunk, and I figured I was good. So I got out of the shower and got dressed. I soon realized that I was NOT good. I was still sticky as a motherfucker. My underwear was completely glued to me. There was also a bunch of fuzz stuck to me from when I sat down on a blanket on the bed. I tried to wipe it off with some tissue and rubbing alcohol, and now that is stuck to me as well.

So my crotch is totally beginning to look like one of those japanese katamari balls and I think my ass might be stuck to my desk chair. Good times.

This probably explains why she was a virgin to begin with

I can't think of a title that doesn't involve drowning vaginas and a bunch of seamen, and I'm just too classy for that

My mom called me last night concerned.

Lemish's mom: "I want you to be really careful if you go in the ocean."

Lemish: "Mom, I live like 1200 miles from the nearest ocean."

Lemish's mom: "Yeah, but you might take a trip and I'm seriously concerned."

Lemish: "Okay, what is the issue? Did you see floating medical waste or watch Jaws again or something?"

Lemish's mom: "No, the ocean is filled with flying black penises."

Lemish: "..."

Lemish: "..."

Lemish: "Mom, these are the things that you say to me and then deny later. Then I look like the insane person saying 'Hey Mom, remember the time you told me the ocean was filled with flying black penises and how fucking crazy that was?' and you'll be all like 'I never said that!' and look at me like you are insulted and tell me I should go to church with you."

Lemish's mom: "Well maybe if you went to church with me more often there would be fewer flying black penises to worry about."

Lemish: "Touché Mom, touché."

I'm sorry I stole your pills and then defaced your home with my Jewish graffiti

So we've been shopping for a new house, and house hunting is, decidedly, a pain in the ass. The only thing that I like about it is that you have a legitimate reason to look through people's stuff. Like, it is totally okay for me to go through people's medicine cabinets because I need to accurately judge if it will hold all of my meds. Our realtor says I don't need to read the labels on all of the pill bottles to judge the size of the medicine cabinet, but obviously I need to see if the previous owner took a bunch of anti-depressants or something because maybe it was their shitty house making them depressed. Or if they take anti-psychotics because they are seeing things, maybe their house is haunted. These are things I need to know.

Aside from looking through the home owner's stuff, they rest of the home buying experience is stressful. It's hard to find a house that people didn't totally fuck up by adding their own style elements. And I feel like the second we do like a house, someone else is going to come in and snatch it out from under us. So to avoid this I came up with a really awesome plan to dissuade any other buyers from buying one of the houses we like; I draw satanic pentagrams all over the place.

This is a totally awesome plan. No one is going to buy a house from a bunch of depressed devil worshippers! The house will be ours. We can totally low ball the seller too because we will be the only offer. "We shall give you $5 for this house. Good day Sir." And they will have no choice but to take it because once word gets around that they are devil worshippers they will get fired from their jobs and be totally poor. Everybody wins!

So anyway, I decided to put my plan into action at a house we saw last weekend. While my husband had the realtor distracted by concerns about "structural integrity" I quickly drew three pentagrams inside the master bedroom closet with a sharpie. I also wrote "I love the Devil!!!!" with a big pentagram around it like an evil Valentine. Just in case the people were from Canada and didn't know what a pentagram was.

After that, I went around back and started drawing some kick-ass pentagrams on the garage. My husband walked up all concerned and said "Oh my God, what the fuck are you doing? Vandalizing the house?" as if he wasn't totally in on my plan already. I was like "Isn't it obvious? I am making the owners look like scary devil worshippers so no one will put an offer in on the house. I know, I am awesome, no need to thank me."
So then he was like, "Are you a complete idiot? That isn't a pentagram. It's a mother-fucking Star of David, symbol of the Jewish faith! You look like a Jewish gang member out here tagging this place up for the Sabbath or some shit."

Then he tried to pull the sharpie from my hand to scratch out my work. I screamed at him to stop. "First of all, I don't think you are right. It has 6 points, just like 666. That is totally the Devil's favorite number. And secondly, if it is the Jewish star, you can't just cross it out! Someone could see us and think that we are all anti-Semitic. Like the owners decorated their garage with these symbols of their faith and we come along and are all 'Nuh -uh, won't have any of this crap while we live here. Heil!' Plus, there is probably some curse involved that's put on people who defile religious symbols. We are probably fucked even talking about this! In fact, I think we should write down how much we love Jewish people so that the curse knows we are cool."

So I started writing things under my stars, like "We wish we were Jewish!" "Kosher or DIE!!!" "Cut up penises for everyone!" Well right about then is when the realtor showed up to check on us.

We were escorted to the curb and asked to leave and not contact them again. As my husband forced me into the car I was screaming and sobbing out the open window "We love the Jews! We love the Jews! I was trying to draw Devil worshipping symbols, that's all! Please give me this house. Puh-lease!!!" I frantically scribbled down my offer on a crumpled piece of paper and threw it out the window at the realtor.

I'm hoping to get their counter-offer some time this week.

You would hate them too if their furry heads and powdery wings haunted your dreams

I don't like butterflies. Everyone is so fooled by their beautiful image, they don't even take a close look at these things. THEY ARE HORRIFYING.

So they are terrifying, hairy, flying bugs with wings made of powder. And for some reason, someone thought it would be an awesome idea to put images of these horrifying creatures on every accessory manufactured for teenagers. That means I am assaulted by their image even in places that I should be safe, like inside.

There are many reasons for my dislike, but I think the primary reason is that when I was 4 my mom caught a monarch butterfly and thought that I would like to see it. So while I was away at pre-school she stuck the butterfly to my new bulletin board in my bedroom with a thumbtack. Right through the disgusting powdery wing. When I got home from school, the butterfly was still lightly flapping it's wings against the board. That's right, she tacked a LIVE BUTTERFLY TO MY BULLETIN BOARD! To my FUCKING bulletin board. Upon seeing this, I completely lost my shit. I think I may have blacked out for a minute, because the next thing I remember is sitting on my floor covered in tears and shredded pieces of powdery wings.

My mom claims to this day that the butterfly was dead when she found it. But this is also from the woman who says she "forgets" dancing around me in a circle saying over and over again, "I'm a witch, I'm a witch!" when I was little, which totally happened. How sick would I have to be to make something like that up? Clearly, she is not to be trusted.

*Update: So I was totally going to put a picture of someone killing a butterfly and call them my hero or something, but the first result I got was this and I was too disturbed to look any more. I'm going to go throw up now.

*Update 2: I was informed that me choice of accessory was not appropriate for a teen/tweenager so I have replaced it. I'm sure I will now be criticized for choosing something that, while age-appropriate, is not exactly an "accessory." But fuck it, you get the picture.

Goonies never say die. (Especially when they are deaf vigilantes of justice.)

So I've had this life long dream to be a Goonie. Because if I was a Goonie I could get into all kinds of adventures and figure out neat ways to get myself out of dangerous situations. I would also have this cool group of friends that would follow me around and say hilarious things. And we could all make fun of the Asian kid to make ourselves feel superior.

Anyway, if I was a Goonie I could be out saving the day all the time. Like if I was ever stuck in a McDonalds drive-thru lane and a carjacker came up to me and was all "give me your fucking car, you Goonie!" I could totally foil his plan. I couldn't just drive way and go for help because I would be completely blocked in by the asshole in front of me ordering his 12 Big Macs, so I would have to come up with a different Goonie plan.

I think I would bamboozle the carjacker and make him think that I was deaf and that I couldn't understand his carjacking instructions. I would just start frantically signing at him with a confused look on my face. Like "Where are my McNuggets that I was promised? I would like Hot Mustard please." The carjacker would be so frustrated with my inability to understand him that he would have to move on to the next car. In the meantime, I would have been secretly signing to the drive-thru worker to call 911. Then the police would show up and bust his ass before he could carjack anyone at all. Victorious!

Everyone would be so happy with me that they would reward me with a big bag of jewels, which is the usual Goonie fee for a job well done. And I would get to go on Oprah and tell my tale of vigilante justice, just like that old lady who got burgled and was able to stop her burglar by crushing his testicles. I think Oprah bought her a small country or something for being awesome and crushing a burglar's balls and because that is one less pair of balls we have to deal with in the world.

No one would judge me for pretending to have a disability because I would totally donate half of my jewels and at least one quarter of my island to the hearing impaired because I am liable generous like that. I would teach them all how to hand jam and how to make fun of the Asian kids in their group with ASL. Oprah would probably give me a two-part episode and buy me a fleet of rickshaws for all of my good deeds.

This explains everything

Mine is about vah jays

Okay, I'm stealing another awesome idea from my hero, The Bloggess (who commented on my blog the other day, holy shit!), and posting this completely immature hilarious animated movie that I made with this site . It's completely awesome pointless and about vaginas below my usual level of sophistication, but it did make me snort with laughter for about 3 days. Enjoy.

Cheating the system doesn't make my victory any less sweet

Confession: I click on the link to my blog 70 times a day to pump up my Google Analytics numbers. It's like analytical steroids. If blogging were an Olympic sport I would be the Chinese. Or the Russians. One of those asshole countries for sure.

I pity the fool

*Update: I used my time traveling abilities to post this after April 1st because I forgot to post something about April Fool's Day and I'd already found this cool picture. Who but Jesus could give me these astonishing powers? He loves me. And dinosaurs.

Next time you feel me up in Walgreens I'm going to kick you in the Cadbury Eggs

I ran out of toothpaste again this morning, which is like the second time in two weeks. I go through a lot of toothpaste because I squeeze out the first two inches before I use it in case it is poisoned.

So I stopped at Walgreens on my way home from work and, as usual, started buying all kinds of crap that I never planned on buying to begin with. And because I only planned to buy toothpaste, I didn't grab a basket or one of those weird little tiny shopping carts they have there. This meant by the time I made it up to the cashier I had my arms full stacked up to my chin with bullshit like light bulbs, Q-tips, and Shamwow cloths.

While waiting in line I saw some Cadbury Cream Eggs for sale and of course I had to get some. I reached out like an idiot and half my shit went tumbling to the floor. I couldn't bend down to get it without dumping the rest of it too. There was this old couple behind me, maybe late 60's, and I kind of gave them a half-smile like "sorry, I know you fuckers are old but do you think you could bend down and pick up my shit?" This was apparently a great strategy because the old man immediately bent down and retrieved my batteries and Glade plug-in refills and started stacking them back on top of the rest of my useless crap.

What a nice old man right? No! Dude blatantly rubs my right boob for like 3 seconds while stacking my stuff, right in front of his wife! I couldn't believe it! My shock was so great that, of course, shit just tumbles right out of my arms again. I thought, no way is he going to do it again, but yes! He did! Boob rubbing part deux! I think it was even longer the second time because in my panic, I had dropped a good portion of my stuff. He rubbed the boob with the back of his crusty old fingers for the good part of a minute. I almost threw up.

So what is my reaction to the good, yet pervy samaritan? Do I get indignant and tell him to keep his hands to himself? No! I THANK him. I thank him! For rubbing my boob! I didn't know what else to do. This creaky old fucker is blowing out what is left of the cartilage in his knees to bend down and pick up my stuff, twice! Granted, he is totally molesting me in front of his wife and about 3 other Walgreen shoppers, but seriously, what choice did I have? I could have kicked the old bastard in the balls or something, but I would have looked like a crazy person. "Pick up my stuff old man and then watch as I haul off and kick you right in the balls! Take that!" I probably would have been arrested.

After my second molestation was complete, the old man's wife says to me "look, you dropped your toothpaste too" like she WANTED him to be rubbing my boob. I was like, no way old lady, go get your kicks in some other drug superstore, this bitch is closed. So I had no choice but to lie and say it wasn't my toohthpaste. The old dude was already bent halfway down again to retrieve it so I quickly turned around, basically threw my stuff at the checkout lady, and got the fuck out of there.

I was too traumatized to stop at another store, so I'm going to have to borrow my husband's toothpaste tonight to which he applies zero safety standards and has allowed whatever poison may have been inserted to seep throughout the whole tube. Great. I'll probably be dead tomorrow.

Irish dinosaur collecting for Jesus says "Happy St. Patrick's Day"

And.......

One word explaining why I will never drink green beer? Nilbog.

A hippo will never eat you, but a bear will fuck your shit up... and I can respect that

I am obsessed with stories about animals eating people. Not just attacking people, actually eating people. Like, for dinner. I've read probably 20 books on the subject and watch every documentary that I can find that shows people getting bit, or talking about how the people were eaten. It's like a sick fetish I realize, but I cannot get enough. I am rooting for the animals. I get disappointed when people talk about their narrow escapes. I guess if they come away horribly mutilated I am somewhat satisfied. It kind of depends on how fucked up they look.

Anyway, so the other night I was watching one of those "When Animals Go Fucking Psycho on Your Shit" type shows when I came to a pretty interesting conclusion: Hippos are hands-down the biggest assholes in the dangerous-animal community. They kill more people per year in Africa than FUCKING CROCODILES, and they are GODDAMMED VEGETARIANS!!! They never eat the people! They eat grass and shit! On top of this, people who actually survive walk away almost completely intact! It's not like a hippo can tear someone's fucking face off with their stubby little paws or whatever they are called. Look at these things! They are just little tiny nubs! No one is going to get their eyes ripped out of the socket by those things!

If you are going to kill hundreds of people a year make it worth my while and EAT THEM!!!! God, you are so annoying with your self-righteous "I won't eat humans but I'll kill them, I'll kill them to death" attitude. It makes me want to punch you in your stupid, fat gut, you smug asshole. Just eat some meat! It won't kill you! My best friend used to feet her pet pig strips of bacon. If her pig could get over that, surely you can force down a few bites of human.

Look at what a bear did to this guy! That I can respect. I mean, he didn't get eaten so he's still sort of a pussy, but at least he did the next best thing! This guy took one for the team and at least made his attack bring pleasure to millions of sick fucks like me. It means something. It has value. And bears don't fuck around. They will eat you. They will eat you in a heartbeat.

Could a hippo pull that off? No way! Here is a hippo-attack victim. Notice the difference? This douche looks bored out of his mind! No disfigurement at all! What a selfish motherfucker.
I am equally angry at the hippo and his "victim." The hippo for refusing to swallow, and the dude for looking so damn impressed with himself for surviving. HE DIDN'T WANT TO EAT YOU, YOU GLIB BASTARD!

Another thing about hippos that really pisses me off is their ears. They are just so stupid. I can't even look at them for too long without getting angry. I mean, I seriously feel a deep burning rage at how ridiculous they look perched on top of the enormous hippo head. And when they twirl them around? Oh my fucking God! It makes me want to scream. Your ears are so fucking stupid, so stupid!!!! JUST EAT SOMEBODY, PLEASE!!!!

*Update: My husband says that I used too many swear words in this post. I am now even angrier at the hippos for getting me so mad that I look like a complete psycho. I hate them so much.

*Update 2: Someone accused pointed out that making fun of animals and swearing at them has already been done. What they don't realize is that I actually hate hippos. I want them dead. That is completely different than swearing at an animal because it is painfully cute. Plus, shut the fuck up. I will steal ideas whenever I please.

My ears are like, not even old enough to drink yet

This website is totally hitting on me and telling me I am young. I don't know what the website is trying to get our of me by this blatant flattery but I'll tell you right now that I'm not falling for it. Like I would really be all overcome with gratitude just because they tell me I am young and that I can do things only teenagers should be able to do. Seriously. I'm not that easy, Website. Like I would really tell everyone I know about how I could be mistaken for a high school student or something. Puh-lease. I mean I appreciate it and all, and I think you are one of the most intelligent and insightful websites I've ever seen but really, your flattery is having no effect on me at all. I love you.

My plan for ukulele-porn driven world peace will not be undermined by that demon girl Hannah Montana and her didgeridoo-playing followers

Lately I have found myself obsessed with ukuleles. I watch you tube videos of indie ukulele covers over and over again. It's almost like a porn addiction because I am both secretive and ashamed of my inability to look away. Except it's not because ukuleles are sweet and pure and porn is rarely sweet and pure. In fact, I really think the porn industry should look into some ukulele soundtracks to clean up their smut factories. I really think they would be able to capture a wider market share. I would totally watch more porn if they classed it up a bit like this.



In fact, I am positive that there would be world peace if it was mandated that all songs be performed on ukuleles.



I wish this dude was my weird, red hat wearing french grandfather who would sing me songs of the sea on his ukulele and make delicious pastries for us to share.



Even Disney who, despite being the harborer of the anti-Christ and the catalyst for the ensuing apocalypse, is always at the forefront of feel-good brand association has jumped on the ukulele bandwagon.

There is even a rockstar ukulele available.

The one instrument that I think is the opposite of the ukulele and therefore the most likely instrument to spur war would be the Australian didgeridoo. Because even though it has a cool name, it kind of separates itself from the other instruments and acts all better than everyone else just because it is made out of bamboo hollowed out by termites. It's an instrument snob. We didn't want you to join our symphony anyway you smug son of a bitch! It also sounds kind of scary and it used to be that only men could play it and women had to play the lame-ass clapsticks, second only to the ridiculous triangle in lameness. So it's sexist too. It's basically the instrument equivalent of Jude Law. So fuck the didgeridoo and it's attempts to undo my mission of instrument based world peace.

*Update: I can't stop watching! Just look at the people playing the tiny little guitars with their big hands! They look like music loving giants! I wonder if regular sized guitars WOULD sound like a ukulele to giants? That would be totally awesome. I need to find a giant and make them play a ukulele because that would just set me over the freaking edge. I feel like rolling around on the floor and squealing at the very thought!

I might be having a seizure.

*Update 2: I really like nickels.

Happy Valentines Day!