The Blog of Bex

If you have ever been to a nail salon then you need to watch this. The first 60 seconds are slow but the rest is seriously worth it. Seriously. Then come back and tell me how you liked it. My nail salon is similar except here is what happens to me: Pretty Asian Lady - Do you like your nails? Me - Yes, thank you! PAL - Do you want a massage? Me - Ummm, sure. Maybe 5 minutes? PAL - 10 minute better. Me - Ummm...ok, sure. PAL - You want eyebrow wax? Me - OK. Thanks. PAL - What about your lip? Me - Excuse me? PAL - You want your lip wax? Me - (awkward pause as I contemplate a service I've never used or thought I needed) Umm...no thanks. PAL - Are you sure? You have a lot of hair there.... This is why I now spend hours each day inspecting my lip. In case you were wondering. Anjelah Johnson (comedian in the video) is funny. So is humor-blogs.com. Check it out!!

Whenever I buy a new article of clothing it invariably comes with an envelope labeled "EXTRA BUTTONS". I've recently realized that I'm not even sure if that's what is really in there as I've never - EVER - opened any of the packages. I just assume that the contents are matching buttons and one day a button might fall off of my clothes and I'll want one that matches to replace it. So I put - with extreme diligence - the envelopes in a drawer in my bedroom. I can no longer completely open this drawer. Whenever we move I carefully box them up and then find a good, prominent spot to put my matching buttons in the new house. The irony is that I have several articles of clothing in my closet RIGHT NOW that are missing buttons. And I'll bet that I have one to replace it somewhere. But looking through 300 envelopes to find one to replace a missing button on a twenty dollar shirt isn't high on my priority list. I wonder at what point I will give up my butt

Happy Thursday, humor seekers. You should push on to your next destination. Here is all I have for today: I need a plunger. I do not own a plunger. I believe (but do not know for sure) that it is socially unacceptable to ask to borrow someone else's plunger. Therefore, later today, I will take three grumpy children to purchase said plunger. I do not know where one could procure such an item. I'm on target to have a bullshit day. Well, it won't be bullshit but it'll be something. If you talk to anyone over there at humor-blogs do me a favor and ask them if they have a plunger I can use.

You know what takes balls? Being a 24 year old American woman who gets a wild hair and decides to go hiking in the Bavarian Alps all by herself. What's that you say? You are having trouble picturing the Alps?? Well, take a gander. Pretty fucking big, eh? I don't even like to walk around my block by myself after dark. I cannot imagine thinking that this hike would be a good idea. I don't even see a spa anywhere. WTF was she thinking?! Anyway, you know what sucks? Being the aforementioned chick who fell off of a small cliff in the Bavarian Alps and was trapped on the ledge with her injuries from the fall for a few days with no way down other than a fall that would surely cause her death. And you know what takes brains? Using her sports bra as a method of attracting attention to get rescued. Some guy was walking around in the Alps, probably yodeling or something, when suddenly he sees a sports bra dangling from a rope. "Hmmmm...." he thinks to himself. "There is

Ahh, shit. George Carlin died. I don't normally jump on bandwagons but I'd like to pay tribute and share my favorite bit from him. He nailed it and it still - no matter how many times I see it - makes me laugh out loud. I love how he speaks the truth, regardless of how unlikeable it could/would/should make him. I imagine that he started off most thought processes with, "Fuck it..." He was my kind of guy. Link to humor-blogs.com

Hello, Boys. How're they hangin'?? Several years ago my dad and I were hiking in California. It was a beautiful afternoon and we were on a mountain trail. We came upon some kind of farm that had a fence around it. Suddenly I saw it - a pig lying down with his "sac" squeezed out behind him. It looked as though someone had stuffed two basketballs under his skin. My first thought was, "Holy crap, pigs can get elephantitis??!" This was quickly followed by thought number two which was, "I would give anything to be sharing this experience with anyone but my father ." So I did what anyone could do in such a situation. I took a picture of the pig balls. I decided that I would put it on the cover of my Christmas cards that year and when the card was opened it would say, "Deck the halls...." I haven't done it yet but I will...yes, I will. You may be wondering why I brought this up. It has to do with baboons and Darwin. At the risk of dramatical

What the hell happened to YOU ?! How did my handsome husband receive a black eye and four stitches on Father's Day??? The majority of you (in this poll) incorrectly guessed that my two year old had head-butted him. Although the baby regularly butts stuff with his head (we're pretty sure this is a sign of his stellar intellect) this isn't what caused the injury. Nope, he was, in fact, pistol whipped by a kid with a Super Soaker that looked a little bit like this: I told him that he should make up a better story. Because what kind of man gets a shiner and stitches from a water gun?! My kind of man, I guess. The doctor who stitched him up said that he should avoid aspirin and alcohol for a few days. The husband nodded and then, when the doctor left the room he muttered, "Well, one out of two ain't bad." So he's given up aspirin for the week. My hero.... Tune in next week for when he gets his ass kicked by a bunny wielding a baton. Link to humor-blogs.com

There is a sign up all around my neighborhood that states something sad: Missing Black and white "CAT" And then it gives the number to call. I've been thinking about calling the number just to complain about the sign. It really bugs the hell out of me. It's not that I'm not sympathetic about losing a pet. It's that I'm not even sure if they did lose a pet. Maybe they lost a lady named Catherine who goes by CAT in all caps and quotes. I guess she'd have the bride of Frankenstein hair like this: Or maybe they have a caterpillar farm and they are missing their prized black and white monarch caterpillar. Most likely they couldn't remember how to spell caterpillar so they decided to abbreviate it in a maddeningly vague way. I guess it could also be a black and white cat that goes by the name "CAT"and they wanted to conserve their sharpie and therefore didn't feel like specifying on the sign. Meh. Whatever. I hope they find what they are

Look what happened to my husband on Father's Day: No, he's not a cross-dressing, makeup wearing guy (not that there is anything wrong with that). This, my friends, is your basic orbital blowout. The band-aid is covering his four stitches. Did you hear that? No??? Allow me to repeat myself - he required FOUR freaking stitches on his eye lid on Father's Day!!! Here's another shot: That's dead sexy, eh? Let's take a poll and see if you can figure out what the hell happened. Opinion Polls & Market Research I know what you're thinking. It's a tough call. He should have zigged when he zagged is all I can tell you without compromising the integrity of my Super Awesome Internet Poll. It was a gusher, too. Good times. Do me a favor? When you're done voting click on my humor-blogs link . Chances are that's where you came from anyway. And if you didn't come from there you should have. It's pretty funny... Bex, OUT.

It's Father's Day. The kids are all a-twinkle with excitement. There is definitely magic in the air. Now you may be wondering what the big deal is. After all, I did all of the heavy lifting. Pregnant for 27 months, nursed for 17 months, and 8.5 years of love, nurturing and not committing a horrific act of homicidal, maternal rage (harder than it sounds). All he had to do was do the hippity dippity with me and - BAM! Baby on the way. And for this "service" I'm supposed to get him a gift or a card every year?! Well, yeah. He totally deserves it. There is a saying that "If Mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy." He knows - in an instant - what I need and gets it for me. 9 times out of 10 it's a Cosmo. But WAIT! There's more! He changes poopie diapers! He knows how to answer this question truthfully without making me want to cleave him: "Do these pants make my fat ass look fat?"And cleaving him has nothing to do with my ample cleav

Why is it that the human male, who has relatively smooth skin on most of his body, has pachyderm skin on his balls? I really want to know. For those of the species who are still (or once again) wearing diapers the endless cracks become a poop hazard. If I don't keep a close eye on my two year old he's going to become known as 'Old Crusty Balls'. In case you were wondering, the picture above is a small piece of this one below. I'm not that twisted. Pachyderm Parades Ongoing at humor-blogs.com

My house has four bedrooms with three and half baths. We are in the process of finishing our basement which will add another bedroom and bath to our total. This is background information for the story that I'm getting ready to tell you (in case you wondering - you know you were). ANYWAY. Two months ago I scrubbed the master toilet and was opening a package of Lysol Cling to keep our pot smelling good (or at least, not bad). I flushed the toilet and pulled the Cling package open just in time for the plastic round thing to fall into the toilet and get sucked down the tube. See that blue and white circle? It's design is PERFECT. Perfect to COMPLETELY cork up a fucking toilet. So I made sure that I had my protective Haz-Mat suit and gloves on and went sticking my arm down the toilet in search of the circle of stupidity. No luck so I decided to wait until my husband got home from work. Because everyone knows that husbands LOVE it when they come home from work and are immediately bom

Oh christ. I was just looking at my sitemeter counter thingy and noticed that someone from Harvard.edu spent 2 minutes and 55 seconds looking at my blog. Suddenly I feel very self-conscious. Kind of like I went to school without my pants on (again). Hello, Smarty Pants. How's it hangin'?? The day that I graduated from High School I was completely convinced that they would call every other name but mine. And after the ceremony I'd go up to the Head of School and be all, "DUDE! What's up?! You forgot to give me my diploma!" And then he'd be all, "No, actually, we didn't forget. You didn't graduate. The thing is, you are what is known in the Business as [air quotes] Not Too Bright. I have a brochure here for you to read called 'Realigning Your Expectations: The Dummy's Guide to Being a Dummy'. It's a good read and it has lots of pictures!" And when I was in my early 20's my husband and I joined an intramural volleyball t

My 8 year old daughter was doing her summer workbook yesterday and brought it to me claiming to have found an error in the book. I skeptically took the book from her and reviewed her exercise. She was to look at pictures and then specify if the word starts with an S, T, N or M. Here is what her picture looked like: So I naturally thought, "Oh, cripes. Looks like we're heading for the short bus." I asked her what the image was and she said, "Oh, she's a doctor. But there is no 'D' listed. There should be, right??" I looked at her and said, "Yep. You've got them on this one!" I'm not sure why I lied to her, other than the fact that I was so happy that she was obviously impervious to the gender bias that was so prevalent in my generation. Back in my day we could be shown an image of a woman in a surgical gown, in the act of cutting open a human being on an operating table. And our guesses for her career would be "Ummm...she's

My mom called a few minutes ago. In the time it took me to turn around, answer the phone and return to the kitchen my two year old GOAT had gotten into my purse, removed the Mylanta and had eaten x number of pills. So I scraped out his mouth, rinsed it with water and called 911/Poison Control. They had good news - he could have eaten about a ton of this stuff and maybe just had a stomach ache or something. So no tummy pumps today. (And there was much rejoicing in the land...) It kind of pissed me off that there is no child-proof lock yet the bottle heeds the warning, "Keep out of reach of children! IN CASE OF OVERDOSE CONTACT POISON CONTROL IMMEDIATELY." In these litigious times WHY would a company not put their drugs in a child-proof container? Even medicine that is designed for children has some sort of mechanism to keep these little rascals out. I'm totally all up-in-arms, ready to kick some ass about it. But then I've come to the realization that if I pursue this

I was spacing out this morning on my way home from the gym and the notion of candy cigarettes entered my mind. I have no idea why but now it's here and won't go away. So I figured I'd jot a few thoughts down about it. I wonder who the marketing mega-star was who thought these up. He'd have been puffing away at his own unfiltered smoke trying to come up with the Next Great Thing. Suddenly he would look at the picture on his desk of his happy, healthy children. Slowly his gaze would shift down to his own smoldering goodness. His face would light up and he'd get this far-away, slightly creepy look in his eyes. "Mwuh-ah-ha-ha! Eureka!" I've actually "smoked" these when I was a kid. The first time I smoked a candy cigarette was eerily similar to the first time I smoke an actual cigarette. The candy version is bubble gum and it's encased in paper that has been flooded with powdered sugar. The first time I tried it I inhaled. The effect of this

Last night we returned from a family vacation at the beach. We went to Tybee Island which is just off the coast of Savannah, Georgia. It was lovely and we had a great time. From the balcony of my bedroom I could watch dolphin frolicking in the surf. Of course that only made me wonder where the hell the sharks were. Because everybody knows that you don't get one without the other. But it's the dining scene I'd like to talk about today. Our first night there we went to a nice seafood place where I ordered a margarita, which was delicious. The restaurant was off to an excellent start. Our waitress was new and kind of a dingbat but we forgave her because she was cute and it was her second day. The real problem became obvious when my sister-in-law's plate of food arrived. She'd ordered the Fresh Steamed Shellfish Platter. Which was accompanied by a steaming cup of.... margarine . WTF??! Why would someone serve THAT with a $26 plate of beautiful seafood?? We decided to ne