duck faces are still kind of funny… silly girls

Sometimes the key to comedy is in the editing. A fifteen minute story might be funny. Trim it down and a five minute story almost makes you pee, or at least blow 7-Up our your nose.

But some of the stuff on Buzzlol.com is pretty funny, even if I’m not stoned. If I was stoned I’d probably laugh till my head hurt.  I work with a woman who gets sooooo much joy from the internet that I’m jealous.  Every morning she opens up stuff people e-mail her and videos on face book and she laughs like a crazy woman. Kittens falling into bowls of pudding and old ladies trying to wax their legs.  It’s a bawdy joyous sound and I kind of envy her her.

Here’s a link to girls making that weird duck face.  I know a lot of girls thought they were being sexy and making a kissing face. My daughter, Mary, had the hottest duck/kiss face on the planet.  But after 51 million21 year old women on facebook all made the same face, it stopped being sexy. Men realized it was just a ploy and they all looked like ducks. It stopped being sexy and turned into “STUPID NOT HOT”!

And finally there’s the “auto correct” page.  This happens to all of us, right.  We try to type “call me” and it turns into “ball me” and we hit the send button before we relize we just tested our great uncle with the porno mustache.  He’s the one that always winks at you and compliments your sweater.

“Warning” turns into “wanking”. “I got great tips” turns into “I got great tits.” 

Well good for you.

Buzzlol is pretty funny, you can absolutely waste some time there, laugh out loud then lie to your boss. Tell him you were trying to rewrite a report and put a spread sheet in it.  Yeah, and then “give him the classic duck face cause you have great tits.”

 

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Are You Stoned?

Dear Hampoland Readers,

I’ve been asked to write a post about a website with funny stuff. It’s called buzz lol. I think it’s a site for stoner humor. That means the people think you guys are smoking, or they think I am. Hummm.

It’ll be up later today. You really dodged a bullet because I wasn’t going to write about my current depression.  This will probably be a lot more fun.

Thanks and I hope you have an excellent Thursday!

Diana

hampoland@gmail.com

 

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Culture vs Cowbells….Hear that Bell Ringing?

No, I don’t want a lovely glass of Merlot, instead I think I slug down this warm paper cup full of Gatorade.

That’s my life right now.

I’m too busy with happy redneck/family stuff and never have time to take my kids to any of the brilliant, quality, cultural events in my hometown.

Hot Springs, Arkansas is a magnificent spa city with music, art even hot air balloon festivals, galleries and countless affordable cultural events. I read about them, I drive past them and I think how wonderful it would be to take the kids to the Friday Night Gallery Walks. They would have fun and learn about fine art.

But there’s not a snowballs chance in hell we can do that on a Friday night. We’re not missing the Fountain Lake football games. I even have a purple cow bell to ring violently when we make a few yards. And more importantly, I’m not missing the amazing Cobra marching band at half time show or the chance to win a smoked pork butt, courtesy of the FFA.

This weekend Hot Springs hosts the 20th Annual Documentary Film Festival. film makers arrive from all over the planet and a day pass to watch all sorts of stunning and fascinating films is just $20. But we have to work the PTO Carnival ring toss booth and Sandor has his third grade football games on Saturday. Around four I have to start the “laundry train”. Every weekend I do at least ten loads of laundry to get us all caught up, because there’s no time during the week.

After church on Sunday morning I really wanted to take a hike with the National Park rangers. They were going to teach us how to find arrow heads, but that’s when I have to do the two hour killer “Wal-Mart/Kroger, get some more Little Debbie Snack Cakes” shopping run, then take Lexie to do her knee workouts.

Sometimes, I feel as though I’m missing life as it whoooshes past. But that’s not true. This is my beautiful cowbell ringing, Hot Pocket eating “Mom can you help me get my cup in my pants” life. Good thing I kind of like warm Gatorade.

 

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I Have To Stop Bashing Canada…I Guess

Yesterday I found a cool Canadian website but I hate Canada and I’m not sure I can use it. For years my family called Canada…”Can’t A Da”. As in “You can’t go to Canada.”

We said this because a few Thanksgivings ago one of my wonderful children looked at me during dinner and said, “I’m leaving college and moving to Canada to be with Billy.”

This child had a huge scholarship and Billy was an idiot, loser, semi-pro hockey player who’s email was “toker69″. mys child had been wonderful and nearly perfect up until that moment but they were “in love.”

She did exactly what she promised and it took us a year to get her back (by the way she’s awesome and brilliant now).

And that’s why we all do a great deal of Canada-Bashing in my house. I know it’s our “neighbor to the North” and America and Canada generally get along but not me. I hate the whole cold country.

But now I have a problem. I found a website with ipod touch deals and I really need a new Ipod.  I have one of the little pink shuffles that holds 200 songs and clips to my tee-shirt.  That sounds like a lot of songs but I run all the time and I just can’t listen to “Let’s Get Retarded In Here, the Jackson 5′s ABC and Miranda Lambert’s Gun Powder and Lead any more.  I NEED A BIGGER IPOD.  My kids all have huge ones that hold millions of songs. Not me. So I’ve been whining and bitching a lot lately about my tiny little i-pod.

Will I order one?…humm…I don’t know. Canada is beautiful and those guys do make some great beer. Maybe I can do it. But I do want to say to Billy, the semi-pro hockey player  aka ‘toker69″ who tried to steal my child. You’re still an idiot.  I win and you lose.

 

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I Miss Louella

This is not Louella, but you get the idea

Louella Thomas was a black woman who worked for my family for twenty or thirty years. Well, she worked for my family but Louella was actually my family.

Everyday when I came home from school she always had a peeled apple and a cup cake waiting for me. Then she would sit on the couch and watch Lets Make A Deal and I’d take a nap with my head on her thigh.

Louella would get mad at me because I’d go fishing but I hated throwing the tiny fish back in the lake. So I’d get all her pots and pans, fill them up with lake water, then put the fish in there to swim around. She would find me on the dock, surrounded by pots and pots of sunfish and brim.

I never learned how to make a bed because of Louella, and that problem still haunts me today.

One time, when my mom was crazy mad she sent me upstairs to get a hair brush so she could spank me. I then asked if Louella would come in the room.
“Why?” my mother demanded.
“Because I know she won’t let you beat me to death.”eight year old me said.

Louella also worked for my grandmother, Ruth Stell, on Prospect Avenue.  And one day Louella suddenly announced she was going to the Holy Lands with her church.  She’d been saving her money for more than two years and was heading to Jerusalem for a week.  My grandmother was stunned and  indigent and secretly jealous because Louella was making the trip of a life time before she was.  Louella brought me back a straw camel from her trip but told me not to show it to my grandmother.

When I was an 18 year old debutante Louella was invited to the Ball.  The committee asked my mother to un-invite her becasue she was black. But my mom loved a rightious fight and the committee back down. So, Louella was the first black woman to attend the Debutante Ball.  She sat next to my mother and I gave them both a rose during the ceremony. 

There was a party after the ball and I remember I begged Louella to say. I didn’t understand why she wanted to leave so early because I was, apparently a moron at eighteen.

I remember Louella just hugged me and said, “I think we’ve done enough for one night, baby girl.”

Yeah, she was pretty smart.

 

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Super Sexy Halloween Costumes…Right Here

I’m probably going to get fired because I found a web site that’s making me so happy right now. It’s called I Love Sexy and they specialize in sexy Halloween costumes. I could waste hours on this one.

Where to go first? Ok, I had to look at the sexy animal costumes..squirrls with fluffy tails, bees (not really that sexy), and “The Stinkin’ Cute Skunk” with a bendable tail. I guess you can point it at people. There’s “The Risky Raccoon” costume, it comes with stripped hose. That’s the naughty animal who keeps getting into your trash can at night. Now that’s hot.

They also have an entire section of Sexy Historical figures.  Yes, JFK and Clinton were good looking men but Napoleon and The Statue of Liberty are not Sexy. Napoleon was short and angry  and the Statue of Liberty always looks as though she’s wearing curtains instead of a dress.

I love Sexy also has a ton of Intimate Appareal, of course,from sleazy to sultry and a lot of it’s on sale. But the sexy Firefighters and Undead Teacher’s Pet (I’m not making that one up) are a lot more fun.

What if I actually bought one of these costume and wore it when I took my kids trick-or-treating, Can you imagine what people would say when they saw an 8 year foot ball player, a seven year old princess and me, the middle aged pink bunny with silky ears and a fuzzy tail, or me, the “Frisky Fox with fluffy ears”.  Surprise!

 

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This Stuff Is Working For Me Right Now!

A bunch of stuff is really working in my life right now.

No, I’m not making more money but I discovered lettuce wraps yesterday and the were amazing. The rest of the world starting eating these things ten years ago. So…Lettuce Wraps are great, especially with peanut sauce.

 Global warming is working for me right now because it’s the middle of Oct. and I’m still wearing all my cute summer clothes. No sweatshirts, no wool socks, no heavy coats…yet. I went   and all their adorable summer things were on CLEARANCE! And I guess I’ll be able to wear them until Christmas. Who needs that polar ice cap?

Yesterday, I got my new glasses and contacts from Rose Eye Wear. I can see and I look all kinds of cute. And apparently I have decent VPS eye insurance so it didn’t cost me much.

My son, Jack, is painting my house for me. And his new Life Size Pizza  album comes out this weekend so I’ll have banging new rock and roll to put on my I-Pod when I run.  Life Size Pizza may be one of the greatest rock and roll bands ever ever ever. How can you not love a song called “Meth Head Bitch”. So get some headphones and turn that stuff up cause it’s working for me.

 

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I Think I Want To Be A Plus Size Model

So, I’m looking at a website for plus size women’s clothing. The site is called Roman’s. The clothes are lovely, beautiful, practical… but wait a minute. Something is wrong. The models are not plus size. They are just normal, beautiful women wearing pretty clothes. That not right.

I know they aren’t really plus size because I can see their collar bones (so prominent I could hang a picture on them), their chiseled cheek bones and they don’t have back fat,(that’s the chub that pops up when your bra strap is too tight).  Holy cow, I would love, love, love to look like these “plus size models” .  These women don’t even have big boobs or thick arms. They are tiny.

The web site caries sizes 12 W to size 44W but the women who wear those sizes are no where to be seen. Look at this lace pj  dress. Does she look plus size? Maybe in Ethiopia, but not here, in Arkansas. Women shopping on a plus size page are large but they are not blind or stupid.

Putting these gorgeous and uber thin models on a plus size page is like writing about a rabbit and showing me a picture of a camel. Both are wonderful animals but they are not the same animals. They both have four legs but that’s just about where the similarities end.

The real question is why didn’t they use bigger models? I googled plus size images and there were 5,210 image results.  Hire them to wear your pretty clothes. Skinny models don’t make your clothes look any better, they just distract me and it’s goofy.

Women spend hours every year looking for clothes that fit their bodies, now it’s time for advertisers to find bodies that actually fit their clothes.

 

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Cat Poop! Richard and Mary….

It’s another “daughter” blog. The next one will be about plus size models and I’ll get paid for it. Christmas is right around the corner so I have to say yes to a few paid blogs.

But not today! This one is about my daughter Mary and her boyfriend, Richard.

They taught their cat how to poop in the toilet, that’s the good news. But when they came to visit with their cute little dog, Cal, the stupid little thing peed and pooped in my house. Actually, Cal peed right on Sandor’s foot, in front of Richard. I think the dog has some serious issues and a hard core “screw you” attitude.

But their cat can poop in the toilet. I guess other people have done this too and their are stories on the internet but I think it’s astonishing. All they did was put the kitty litter pan on the toilet for a while, then they put a bowl of kittly litter in the toilet, the the cat goes to the bathroom in the toilet. Cool, right?

The funniest part is watching Richard describe and imitate the cat perched on the toilet seat with it’s legs spread out and an annoyed pissed off feline grimace on it’s face. If I was a cat and had to stand, suspended over a pot of water, I’d be pretty indigent too.

My question is, if it’s so easy to teach a cat to use a toilet why didn’t we start doing this years and years ago. Are humans evolving more slowly these days cause cleaning the kitty pan has always been one of the most disgusting chores.
when I was little we had a maid whom (is that right?) I loved. her name was Louella. And she would pay me a quarter twice a week to dump the kitty litter pan for her without telling my mom.

So, Richard and Mary, good job with the cat. But seriously, you need to do something about that dog of yours.

 

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Lexie’s Greatest Hits

It’s my daughter, Lexie’s, 15th birthday. That means it’s time to celebrate and embarrass her all in one blog.

Lexie’s Greatest Hits

Jack and Mary were in 4th and 5th grade when Lexie was born. I have wonderful pictures of that day.  Jack and Mary are nearly sitting on top of each other, grinning and laughing,  Mary is obviously squeezing Jack’s leg she is so excited, they are waiting for the doctors to bring her out.

Until she was almost two years old, Lex was a really, really fat little baby. I can say that now because she’s not fat anymore. She had crazy rolls of chub on her legs and her daddy worried. We called her “Buddha Pest”, because she looked like a Buddha and was sometimes a pest. This joke was even more appropriate because Alex is Hungarian.

The kids made up a song for Lexie, “She’s fat and she’s round and she wiggles all around, Heeeyyy Lexarina.”

Mary hated leaving Lexie alone in her crib, so I would find her sometimes, reading to her in the middle of the night.  Lex was sleeping but Mary was still there, keeping an eye on her.

When Lexwas three or four she started wearing red cowboy boots…everywhere…all the time. She wore those boots with her swimming suit, with her Halloween costume, to church and too school. she actually wore out the first pair and we had to get her another. I use those boots as bookends now.

When she was three she would sometimes melt down, throw a fit and one night, when her dad said “no” to something she fell to the ground.  When he tried to pick her up she did that worm thing kids do. She went limp, slid out of his arms and continued crying and screaming.  Alex was just about to spank her when 12 year old Jack bowed up on him for the first time in his life.  He stood up tall and was ready to fight Alex, right there in the kitchen, if he spanked Lexie the Worm.

When she was five she invented a place called “Lexie World”. We were constantly given Lexie World updates. Strangely, pop star Shakira was her sister in Lexie World and she didn’t have a mom in that special and wonderful place. That kind of hurt my feelings.

We were never allowed to call people “fat” at home. But one day, Lexie came home from school crying. She got into the car and began to wail. She was five at the time. I looked at her beautiful tear stained face. “What’s wrong honey?”
“I used the “F Word” today. I’m so sorry.”
Oh my gosh, my baby girl used the F Word, I thought I would die.
Then she said, “I told Heather her cat was fat.”
I was so relieved.
And now Lexie is 15. She is beautiful, elegant and silly.  Tonight is Homecoming and she’s going to the dance wearing enormous black heels.  I love her so much.

Happy Birthday Baby Girl.

 

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