Ok, selling x-rated adult toys on TV late at night is one thing, but I am so sick and tired of being bombarded on a daily basis by TV ads that are pushing products aimed at bodily functions or misfunctions as the case may be. Let’s see, there’s a product for the smelly itchy pussy, another stating "have a happy period" by buying their pads, or that special tampon that "blooms" to catch that heavy flow. And I just LOVE the one that pours the thick blue (why not go ahead and use RED?) fluid in the middle of the pad to show how absorbent it is. Gross! Thank goodness I could defer my 5 year old grandson’s questions about pads, tampons and wings by telling him to ask his mother! Oh, can’t forget the problem of our smelly, hairy armpits and hairy legs. Then there’s the problem of underwear riding up the butt crack (I do like that one, lol, Sarah Chalke is funny).

Constipation (use our product when it’s "hard" or hurts to go to the bathroom), diarrhea, leaky bladders, growing bladders, smelly feet, quilted toilet paper that doesn’t stick to your arse, flatulence (your son Rip is on line toot). Heaven forbid your teeth don’t look like Chiclets or your breath isn’t minty fresh!

Now there is an ad for KY Jelly - "Yours and Mine" a product that provides special individual sensations that intensify when the actual act is performed. And I just love the middle-aged man singing "Viva Viagra"!

Ok, I feel better now - I just farted but blamed it on the dog...

I thought I had seen every episode of 'I Love Lucy' ever made. To my surprise, I saw one for the first time this week on tvld. It opens with Lucy standing in their living room dressed to the nines, straight skirt, crisp white blouse, snappy little scarf and of course sensible pumps and matching purse. She calls out to Ricky to hurry up they'd be late for the movies. Out he walks in jeans and a flannel shirt. Lucy flips, demanding to know if that's how he intended to go - and the episode continues on with Lucy & Ethel trying to teach Ricky and Fred about how to dress properly. The really funny thing is that the outfit Ricky was wearing then is the standard now.

I cringe every time I hear Lucy say, "yes sir, no sir" to Ricky. And can you imagine Dan Connor pulling Roseanne across his knees and spanking her?  I wonder if that's ok with the blogger who feels todays tv shows "emasculate" our men?

I asked my husband which TV wife he'd rather have, Roseanne or Lucy...lol...he answered neither, he'd take Susan (from Desparate Housewives). LOL - too bad either way - he's stuck with me.

This morning GMA did a segment on the cloning of dogs which turns out to be harder than cloning a cat or a sheep. Dogs' reproductive systems are a little more complicated. Anyway, the owner of the laboratory was on, he has cloned the family dog x3. He couldn't tell two of them apart, and the only reason he could id the 3rd was because she was older (by 3 months) and larger.

I love my four dogs beyond measure. Would I personally want to clone any one of them? No. I would rather rescue another unwanted, unloved dog and give him/her a good happy home & life.

So I was just curious - would  you clone (if you could afford the enormous cost) a beloved pet or rescue another in its memory?

Finally, something on the news today made me happy. In fact, I'm sure the entire canyon could hear me whooping and hollering! Once again I am proud of California, and even can give some respect to the Govinator who is going to honor the court's decision.

TRIP TO WAL-MART

You are in the middle of some kind of project around the house. Mowing the lawn, putting a new fence in, painting the living room, or whatever. You are hot and sweaty. Covered in dirt or paint. You have your old work clothes on. You know the outfit, shorts with the hole in crotch, old t-shirt with a stain from who knows what, and an old pair of tennis shoes.
Right in the middle of this great home improvement project you realize you need to run to Wal-Mart to get something to help complete the job.

Depending on your age you might do the following:

In your 20's:
Stop what you are doing. Shave, take a shower, blow dry your hair, brush your teeth, floss, and put on clean clothes. Check yourself in the mirror and flex. Add a dab of your favorite cologne because you never know, you just might meet some hot chick while standing in the checkout lane. You went to school with the pretty girl running the register.
In your 30's:
Stop what you are doing, put on clean shorts and shirt. Change shoes. You married the hot chick so no need for much else. Wash your hands and comb your hair. Check yourself in the mirror. Still got it. Add a shot of your favorite cologne to cover the smell. The cute girl running the register is the kid sister to someone you went to school with.
In your 40's:
Stop what you are doing. Put a sweatshirt that is long enough to cover the hole in the crotch of your shorts. Put on different shoes and a hat. Wash your hands. Your bottle of Brute Cologne is almost empty so you don't want to waste any of it on a trip to Wal-Mart. Check yourself in the mirror and do more sucking in than flexing. The spicy young thing running the register is your daughter's age and you feel weird thinking she is spicy.
In your 50's:
Stop what you are doing. Put a hat on, wipe the dirt off your hands onto your shirt. Change shoes because you don't want to get dirt in your new sports car. Check yourself in the mirror and you swear not to wear that shirt anymore because it makes you look fat. The cutie running the register smiles when she sees you coming and you think you still have it. Then you remember the hat you have on is from your buddy's bait shop and it says, "I Got Worms ".
In your 60's:
Stop what you are doing. No need for a hat anymore. Hose off the dog crap off your shoes. The mirror was shattered when you were in your 50's. You hope you have underwear on so nothing hangs out the hole in your pants. The girl running the register may be cute but you don't have your glasses on so you are not sure.
In your 70's:
Stop what you are doing. Wait to go to Wal-Mart until they have your prescriptions ready too. Don't even notice the dog crap on your shoes. The young thing at the register smiles at you because you remind her of her grandfather.
In your 80's:
Stop what you are doing. Start again. Then stop again. Now you remember that you needed to go to Wal-Mart. Go to Wal-Mart and wander around trying to think what it is you are looking for. Fart out loud and you think someone called out your name. The old lady that greeted you at the front door went to school with you...
 

Regardless of where you stand on the issue of the U.S. involvement in Iraq, here is a sobering statistic:

There has been a monthly average of 160,000 troops in the Iraq theatre of operations during the last 22 months, and a total of 2,867 deaths. That gives a firearm death rate of 60 per 100,000 soldiers.

The firearm death rate in Washington D.C. is 80.6 per 100,000 persons for the same period. That means that you are about 25% more likely to be shot and killed in the U.S. Capital than you are in Iraq .

Conclusion: The U.S. should pull out of Washington.