October 3, 2011
I talk too much. And if you tell me I am not allowed to talk, I can pretty much guarantee that I’m gonna talk more.
I am very irresponsible. The first day I brought my son home from the hospital I forgot to feed him. When he wouldn’t stop crying I thought he was just an asshole.
I am obsessed with drag queens and if one was accused of a crime and I was a juror, I’d probably let her off. Or at least go on The Lam with her and start a new life with fake names and everything and lots of moving from town to town. And since drag queens are much more feminine than me, she’d pretend to be the wife and I’d have to cut my hair and pretend to be the husband and my name would be Herbert:
I used to be a criminal. I once stole a big canister of Slim Jim’s from TG&Y. And one time when Cheryl Figgenspan wouldn’t let me borrow her little plastic frying pan with rubber eggs in it (sunny side up!) I put it in my pocket and took it home with me.
I am not above lying if backed into a corner. When Cheryl Figgenspan’s mom called my mom to say that I stole the frying pan, I accused the entire Figgenspan family of trying to frame me.
The other day, for no reason at all, and even though I have an allergy to cat fur, I brushed my cat and made Wilford Brimley eyebrows out of her fur and taped them to my face and made my sister do it as well:
I want to tattoo Wonder Woman’s costume onto my body, because (a) It’s awesome, (b) I won’t have to wear clothes if I don’t want to because I will always be dressed. I know that this will work because when I was 9 I used my crayon soaps to color a wonder woman costume onto my body and then ran around the house and nobody seemed to notice that I was totally nude.
I cuss a lot. If you tell me not to cuss I can pretty much guarantee that I will probably cuss more.
I have a pet peanut that looks like a bird and his name is Nutbird and he lives in one of my houseplants:
I am forgetful. I once took my son all the way to the zoo but forgot to put his shoes or pants on.
I am a daydreamer and a terrible listener. Here’s how it will go down: Annoying D-Bag Lawyer: “Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, I present to you a man who…” What’s going on in My Brain: “Man, if I had a Unicorn I would name him Lord Burgess Atwood and I would train him to come when I sing ‘U Can’t Touch This’, which I would totally sing right now, and he would come get me out of this juror box thingy and I would jump on his back and tell everyone ‘It’s Hammer Time, bitches’, and Lord Burgess would fart a rainbow and we’d slide on it all the way to Baskin Robbins and I’d get the S’Mores ice cream in a waffle cone and Burgey would get Bubble Gum in a dish cuz he can’t hold a cone cuz duh, unicorns don’t have hands.”
I once went to Target Portrait Studio to get this photo taken:
One time I walked all through Target with a pair of underwear stuck to the back of my shirt. And once I discovered it was there, I really didn’t care.
I totally believe in ghosts and I’m not above bringing one with me to court. I also believe in Bigfoot, The Loch Ness Monster, Chupacabra’s and Vampires.
I have a really big mouth and I can in no way promise that I can keep the details of any case secret.
I am obviously unstable.
I think this is completely appropriate attire for jury duty:
Unless one of the lawyers looks like Matthew McConaughey, I’m not gonna be paying any attention.
I’m pretty sure that Judge Judy is the only person capable of properly handling a courtroom.
I sometimes do karate for my cat. I also perform scenes from musicals. She seems to really enjoy it.
I can almost guarantee that at some point I would have to yell “I object!”
My bladder is the size of a raisin and I require lots of pee breaks. If I am denied pee breaks, I will find it necessary to wear a diaper or pee in a bottle which will be extremely messy since my husband did not buy me The Whiz.
I wear a wrist brace which I will tell everyone is from hurting my hand giving too many handy-j’s to strangers in the alley, but is really from beating up hobos for sport.
I’m pretty sure that the other jurors will want to kill me, so if you choose me you risk having another murder on your hands, plus another trial, plus more taxpayer money, plus a need for more jurors. It’s an endless cycle.
I would be totally easy to bribe. All it would take is some guacamole and a margarita.
I think Charlie Sheen is some kind of evil genius.
I believe that PMS is an excuse for anything.
Did I mention that I write this blog?
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