I Do Things So You Don’t Have To

And it used to be for a while
That the river flowed right to my door

Yesterday my mother-in-law asked me if I still had my wedding dress. Oh, how badly I wanted to lie. But I’m trying to be more honest—in speech if not in actions—so out came the truth, as gently as I could word it:

Nope! I threw it out.

She was slack-jawed for a minute, but Dave came to my rescue. “Well, we recently did a big clean-out of our basement, and we were pretty ruthless in getting rid of stuff.”

I know, I know. I could have taken it to a resale shop, sold it on eBay, had a seamstress make it into a parachute or something . . . there were definitely options available to me other than throwing it out unceremoniously with the taped-together blender, 400 pairs of sneakers, and waffle iron.

But, people, I am lazy. And realistic.  

Top 10 Reasons I Got Rid of My Wedding Dress

1. I really don’t see myself wearing it to too many places.
2. But if I did want to wear it, I could still TOTALLY fit into it . . .
3. . . . if I contracted a severe wasting disease and lost 50 lbs. in one day.
4. Anyway, I don’t want to.
5. The price to clean and store it properly is prohibitive . . .
6. . . . and I would rather spend my money on cupcakes and US magazine.
7. I look terrible in white.
8. YES, I said “white.”
9. I’m just not that sentimental . . .
10. . . . tho I could not bear to part with the guitar trophy I won for playing “Raindrops Keep Fallin’ on My Head” when I was 10.

Anyway, you think I’m bad? My mother-in-law had to confess that she’d gotten rid of her bridal veil in what seems to me a much more violent manner: she lit a match to it and BURNED it! Man, I just tossed my dress out into the alley. 

If you want to throw out your wedding dress:

Stop! There are alternatives if you’re less lazy and more sentimental than I am:

• Sell it!
• Donate it!
• Trash it!

I suppose reminiscing about throwing away my wedding dress may not be the best way to say “I love you” to the man I’ve been married to for 18 years, but it’ll do.

Happy Anniversary, Honey!

Whether my dress is in a bag in the basement or hanging in my closet, I couldn’t love you more.

Mirror in the bathroom
Please don’t freak
The door is locked
It’s just JD

I have sat on my last wet toilet seat. 

I mean it. No more public bathrooms. From now on, I’m just going to hold it. Voluntary urine retention doesn’t cause your bladder to burst, so as long as I can wait till I get home, I’m good to go. Heh.

If you don’t already know, I work from my home, which is awesome for so many reasons, the main one being that my butt spends less time on a public toilet than most other working butts.

I don’t even have to share my bathroom with Dave, as he lives in the basement and has his own bathroom.

Still, if I didn’t work at home, maybe I wouldn’t have to put up with so many maintenance people parading through my house at all hours.

Yesterday the air conditioning guy came by to clean our filter and do whatever else it is air conditioning guys do. The one thing you don’t want them to do is ask this question:

Can I use your bathroom?

Noooooooooooooo!!! No, you cannot! Don’t you have one on your truck? Can’t you just go in the neighbor’s bushes? But of course I have to say yes. He does his thing, while I hop around in agitation and slam some windows to make noise. When he comes out, I pretend to be busy shuffling papers. Oh, you’re done?

He leaves, and I can breathe. Only then do I realize the true horror of the situation: there was no hand towel on the rack, so he must’ve used my BATH towel. Now, you might think this is a worse situation for him; after all, his hands touched the towel that touches my BUTT. Regardless of what you might think, I burn the towel. Then I realize I’m being silly: he might have used my hair towel. So that gets burned too. Not that this guy was dirty or gross or smelly. He was perfectly polite, seemingly clean; he was even wearing those disposable booties. But he used my bathroom AND my towel AND there was a droplet of water on my sink that wasn’t there before SO it doesn’t matter that our air conditioner is in perfect working order, because now we have to move.

Common Toilet Fears

• Have you ever had the going-to-the-bathroom-in-public nightmare? Here’s a toilet straight out of your dreams.
• What if something pops out of the toilet to bite your butt? Beware the butt spider! (PS: it’s not real.)
• THIS! Please don’t click if you’re averse to swearing, drug use, incomprehensible Scottish accents, or watching someone dive into the skeeviest, skankest toilet to retrieve some suppositories. The rest of you? Enjoy!

Fun Toilet Facts

• Toilet water (aka eau de toilette) does NOT come from your toilet. It comes from mine! Just kidding. My toilet water is no more special than anyone else’s.
• The first stall in a public restroom is the least used—and the cleanest (but I’ll bet the seat is still wet).
• 40,000 Americans are injured by toilets each year. What the . . . ?

Please share your toilet horror stories and fears. Has anyone actually been injured by a toilet? I need details! (And pictures.)

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The toilets flush all day at humor blogs.

Roll in the Benz with me, you could watch TV
From the backseat of my V, I’m a P-I-M-P 

(NSFW or my mom)

So you never truly believed that my I Do Things services extended to pimping, did you? Well, buster, when it involves food, you’d best believe I will pimp a snack upside the head if need be. Whatever that means.

Really, it all started with the Pimp That Snack site, which used to be called the far superior Pimp My Snack until legal issues forced a change. And I’d love to provide a direct link, but the annoying music on the opening page would kill your appetite, which you’re gonna need.

Looky, looky!

Oooh, it’s a ginormous “faerie” cake, which is what British people call cupcakes. (They also call Christmas lights “faerie lights.” Aren’t British people whimsical? I bet they make terrible pimps). Anyway, the idea is to take a small, ordinary snack and turn it into a ridiculously exaggerated version that can, according to the Faerie Cake Pimp: “fead 15 people.” (Yo, it’s hard out there for a pimp—they can’t be worried about spelling, especially when they’re baking faerie cakes!)

Well, sir, I am not 15 people and frankly the last thing I need in my house is a cupcake the size of a washing machine, but a few weeks ago, I had the urge to trick out an everyday snacklet into something a little more special.

Unfortunately, I got this idea on a Saturday, when Dave was home. During the week, I can get away with all kinds of food craziness, but on weekends I have to sneak around. Dave already found my secret Cap’n Crunch stash; I didn’t want him to know that I hide candy in the closet.

Dave! Stop reading!

Materials

A good pound cake needs no embellishment, but this was not a particularly good pound cake.

O

The perfect embellishment: caramel-filled Hershey Kisses, and lots of them.

O

Step 1

Melt Kisses in microwave. I recommend unwrapping them first, which is tiresome but results in a smoother texture.

Step  2

Spread mixture on pound cake. Eat in bathroom so Dave doesn’t find out how pathetic I am.

Results

Hmmm. Surprisingly not that pimpalicious. Maybe I should’ve used regular Hershey Kisses. Maybe I’m just not pimp material. Maybe the bathroom doesn’t provide the best ambience to enjoy a pimped snack.

Maybe next time I’ll just buy cake that’s already frosted.

If you want to Pimp Something:

• Pimp My Lyrics! 
• Pimp My Snowman!
• Pimp My Desk!
• Pimp Your Name! I was very disappointed to learn that my pimp name is Trick Magnet Julia Clinton, which . . . what? That doesn’t sound very pimpy. You can call me Cakey J.

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They’re always pimping something at humor blogs, yo.

It’s better in the matinee
The dark of the matinee is mine
Yes, it’s miiiiiine

When I’m not watching SNL clips or eppies of Hell’s Kitchen (ohhh, the shame) on Hulu, you’ll find me in the dark of the matinee that is my living room, watching a Netflix.

In my little world, “Netflix” is synonymous with “DVD” or the more archaic term “mo-vie.” I probably spend more time obsessing over my ever-growing Netflix queue than I do actually watching DVDs. (Isn’t “queue” a fun word? It’s British for “list of movies”!)

I’m thinking of trademarking the following phrases:

• “It’s in my queue” (I’m going to watch that movie)
• “I’ll put it in my queue” (I’m interested in watching that movie)
• “Queue it!” (Watch that movie!)

I love Netflix so much I gave it to my mom for Christmas. Thanks to the “Friends” feature, I can keep a close eye on her rental activity. I think it’s starting to bother her that I can tell her what movie she has at home before she knows herself, but why would Netflix include this feature if we weren’t supposed to spy on people?

Oh, and let’s not forget Netflix’s “Watch Instantly” feature that allows users to watch free streaming movies. (Note: it used to be called “Watch Now,” but I guess that phrase didn’t adequately convey the urgency of just how quickly you could watch a movie.)

My brother and I have had “Queue Wars” in which we add titles to create the longest queue. He totally cheats by adding every episode of every season of 24. We also send each other notes about movies. Here are some of his better ones:

Of Dogville:

A real chore to watch. Fell asleep twice in the first 45 minutes and fast-forwarded through most of it.

Of Click:

Like a bad It’s a Wonderful Life.

Of The Departed:

Good story, though violent. Jack Nicholson is famous enough that he didn’t have to talk with a Southie accent.

Of American Psycho:

You would like this one.

And I did!

Oh, Netflix. Is there nothing you can’t do? Sure, sometimes a disc is damaged or late, but I can forgive these small flaws.

However.

The other day, I found out that Hugh Laurie starred in a Brit-com called Fortysomething. QUEUE IT! But, when I tried to add it, I got a very disturbing message:

If you wish to add this 2-disc series to your Queue, you must first remove some movies.

Wha-a-a-a-at?

There’s a limit to the Netflix queue? I thought it was endless, like a rainbow (OK, I know rainbows supposedly have ends at which are pots of gold, but sometimes they just seem to fade away into the horizon and that’s what I thought the Netflix queue was like).

I currently have 468 titles. Why is that the limit? Why not 500? Or unlimited? Why do they capitalize “queue”? But most important:

What will I delete?

• Mondo Bizarro/Mondo Freudo?
• Bloodsucking Freaks?
• Bride of Re-Animator?
• Confessions of a Psycho Cat?
• Surely not The Wizard of Gore?

Please help me decide!

If you want to enhance your Netflix experience:

• Check out this search tool to find all of Netflix’s Watch Instantly movies. And then watch instantly!
• Share your queues and reviews with FeedFlix!
• Manage your Netflix account from your iPhone!

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The queues are long at humor blogs!

Guys with name tags walking down the aisles
Rows of garden hoses that go on for miles and miles

Wait! Where are you going? Don’t leave me here alone with my door story. Haven’t you heard? Doors are actually very funny and exciting to read about! You can tell, because I put an exclamation point at the end of the sentence. Stay with me . . . please?

The Horrifying Note

It was going to be a delicious, do-nothing Sunday. After a productive morning, I had the whole afternoon ahead of me to doze, laze, lounge, loll, droop, drag, snooze, and/or slump.

My plans were ruined, however, when I got home from the gym to find a note from Dave:

Honey, Let’s go to Lowe’s and buy a new door!

Oh, gross me out. Is there a more boring place on earth than Lowe’s? Is there a more boring mission than buying a new door? Unlike the above example, the puny exclamation point at the end of Dave’s sentence was not going to get me excited about a damn door.

When Dave got home, he was fakely upbeat. “You want to be involved in the decision, don’t you?”

“Um?”

“Because there are different styles, options, colors . . .”

“Um.”

“And I thought you’d want to help pick it out.”

“. . .”

In an ill-advised effort to cheer me up, he promised that we could also shop for a new mailbox.

The Most Boring Place on Earth

I s’pose there are people who enjoy visiting home improvement stores like Lowe’s. Those people are idiots. It’s a huge, awful place that smells like metal and sawdust and glue and stupidity, with aisles and aisles of stuff, NONE of it the least bit interesting. Immersible Sump Pump, 2-Speed Portable Thickness Planer, Lithium Iron Driver Drill. Apart from the giant gumball machines, there doesn’t appear to be any candy, and even the magazines at the check-out aisles are dull: “Workbench Magazine,” “Wood,”  “Tools,” “Boring-Ass Crap No One Cares About”. . . I started to cry a little.

We finally found the door aisle, only to discover that Dave had left his notes with our door measurements in the car.

“Do you want to go get it or should I?”

When does a sentence phrased this way ever NOT mean “You go get it”? I agreed, if only to break up the monotony of the visit. I trudged back to the car, taking my time. The only thing I wanted to see when I got back to the door aisle was Dave handing over his credit card to a helpful salesman.

No Such Luck

Dave was right where I left him. Alone.

Lowe’s is the type of store that employs one salesperson per square acre, so the guy for our designated area was hopelessly tied up. We waited, looking at doors. Oh, it’s not like there weren’t options to consider: full screen or part screen. White or black. Brass or nickel. Yeah, that kept us occupied for about 2 minutes.

Then we noticed other couples circling ominously around the perimeter of the sales clerk and his customers. We zoomed in to claim our rightful position as next in line. I shot these other couples my hardest of looks: You think you’re next, fools?

Adding Injury to Insult

When we finally got our salesguy, Dave asked pertinent and probing questions. I waited sullenly to chime in with my sole contribution:

“White!”

Having delivered my only line, I went back to sulking. When I grudgingly moved to allow an old man in a walker to get past me, Dave stepped back and slammed his foot down on my toe. The same toe I had dropped a soup can on a few days before. He was appropriately contrite, but there was no way I wasn’t going to make a big deal out of it.

No End in Sight

Finally, we moved from the door aisle to the Desk of Transaction. But instead of exchanging a credit card number for a door, we were subjected to questions, paperwork, more waiting, and unbearable dullness. My toe hurts! Why aren’t there chairs? Where are the TV screens? Why are there are so many bald men? Who let that dog in? Why, God, why?

At last! We were done. I breathed in the air of freedom as if it was oxygen, which, in fact, it was. After such an ordeal, I felt like I deserved ice cream or a trip to the toy store. I thought Dave was on the same wavelength, but, sadly, no.

Let’s go to Office Max!

If you want to buy a door:

• But why would you? Just move to a house with a new door.
• OK, if you must buy a door, at least try to do it online. (What? Doors.com doesn’t sell doors? RIP-OFF!)
• OK, if you have to go a boring door store, bring plenty of snacks, magazines, a chair, and dog treats.

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The door’s always open at humor blogs!

I’ll come back for the honey . . . and you

So you’ve already read the famous I Embrace My Randomness post and thought, “Wow. There can’t be any more random things to know about JD.”

Wrong! Behold: More random things I do so you don’t have to:

1. I draw. Look! I drew this:

And this:

Do you sense a theme here? Do you also sense that I kind of suck at drawing? But I don’t draw just cats. Among my other drawing achievements:

• a friendly worm wearing a jaunty top hat
• a friendly sun wearing jaunty sunglasses
• a friendly caterpillar wearing a jaunty top hat

2. I am famous. Remember that popular Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass album? With the girl covered in whipped cream?

THAT WAS ME!

Impossible, you say? Well, I’m older than I look. And there’s nothing more youthening than covering yourself in whipped cream. Try it!

3. I have an overpowering urge to squeeze a large, fat bird. I don’t want to hurt it, just squeeze it gently. Maybe just enough to make it squawk.

4. I am singlehandedly bringing back the turban as a hair fashion statement for women. Check it out:

This lady can see, is able to eat without getting a
mouthful of hair, and looks lovely and serene.                                    

This lady (aka JD) is technically blind,
has a giant mouthful of hair, and looks
a right ol’ mess.

5. I have an inexplicable crush on Eli Wallach as Tuco in The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly. (And, yes, he is the “ugly” of the trio.)

????????????????????????????????????

Maybe it’s because Tuco stars in one of my top ten favorite movie scenes:

Watch it here!

Brief synopsis: The Good (Clint Eastwood), the Bad (Lee Van Cleef), and the Ugly (Eli Wallach) have spent about 6 hours of the 7-hour-long movie looking for a graveyard where a bunch of money is buried. Tuco finds the graveyard and must find the actual grave, all to the accompaniment of Ennio Morricone’s awesome ”Ecstasy of Gold.”

6. I co-wrote a song with my brother. While it never hit the charts, we felt it was pretty catchy at the time:

We’ve all got diarrhea
We caught it from Maria
Maria thought it was quite fun
But I do not, I’ve got to run
Too LATE! All over Maria

7. I am better than a lot of people. Why? Because my eyes are completely and totally brown. When I was a kid, my mom noted that my eyes had no hazel coloring (unlike my brother’s eyes, which are a little lighter than mine). I thought that was a sign of genetic superiority. I guess I still do, even tho I daresay I’ve met many people with pure brown eyes. 

Thanks to Canucklehead and Ernie for the double-team meme! (I know, it was supposed to be 8 things, but 7 is what you get.)

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It’s all random at humor blogs.

Look at me hypnotized and half alive, maybe it’s four or five
Some parts are sleeping, some parts are paralyzed
Just one more minute . . . just one more minute . . .

Last night, Dave made a chilling announcement.

At some point today, all our TVs will go dead as a result of outdated cable boxes. We’re s’posed to get new cable boxes (today), and I know Dave will install them the second he gets home from work. But until then . . .

Thank Gawd for Hulu!

Remember when you discovered all those Web sites that offered free streaming TV shows and movies? And you were so excited? ‘Cuz you could watch Cloverfield over and over plus endless episodes of The Simpsons?

And then, just as you were microwaving the popcorn and putting on your fuzzy slippers, your excitement disappeared, because you realized:

1. The link was usually broken.
2. The movie was in Japanese.
3. The handheld camerwork was sloppy and unprofessional.
4. You really are bothered by those flashing ads for porno sites after all.

Well, get ready, because the excitement is back in the form of Hulu! (And, no, this isn’t a pay-per-post. I just love saying and writing HULU as much as possible.)

It’s free! Easy! Pretty decent quality! Simply provide a user name, password, and, if you like, your household income, and you’re home free.

Hulu offers free streaming TV shows and movies. And while some may complain that Hulu’s selection is lacking, I personally love the weird variety of really good and really obscure. You can watch movies like 28 Days Later, Sideways, The Big Lebowski and . . . Dr. Goldfoot and the Bikini Machine. You can catch episodes of The Office, 30 Rock, Friday Night Lights . . . The Munsters Today, which even I didn’t know existed.

Some TV shows offer only clips, so don’t get too excited, Greatest High School Football Rivalries fans.

Yes, yes, I know you can watch many of your favorite shows on the networks’ sites, but Hulu has everything in one tidy place with a very user-friendly interface. You can e-mail and embed videos, share videos with social/bookmarking sites, and create a queue for your favorites.

Hulu is far from perfect. Lost isn’t available, and they’ve only got the first two seasons of The Mary Tyler Moore Show. The video sometimes sputters a bit, and you do have to sit through a few very short commercials.

But it’s called HULU! So what else do you need to know?

If you want to Hulu:

• Watch a 2-minute “Hulu Walkthrough.”

That’s it!

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They’re going ga-ga for Hulu at humor blogs.

Viva!
Viva!
Viagra!

Spammers are getting really smart. I just received a plea for money from none other than Charles Brown, addressing me as his “DEARLY BELOVED.” Now, I am no one’s “dearly beloved”—much less in all caps, but! the subject line said, “Not Spam.” So I think it’s safe to assume that I’m going to inherit millions of dollars by simply turning over my bank account number to this guy, right?

As any good blogger knows, spammers aren’t just for e-mail anymore. We get obnoxious comments that programs like Akismet or Bad Behavior usually, but not always, filter out. Sometimes good comments get lost in the sea of spam related to Cialis, Ambien, and . . . sadly, Chubby Lesbian Grannies.

Even Darren at ProBlogger is not immune. Someone promoting the ever-popular penis enlargement pill has been spamming unsuspecting bloggers using Darren’s name. In response to his post warning of this, someone asked if it’s OK for a beginning blogger, desperate for action, to keep some of these shady comments.

I can relate. In my early days as a blogger (like, 9 whole months ago), I was so happy to get comments, I didn’t always notice at first that they were spam. Not only did I keep them, I actually responded to some. Luckily, no evidence exists of my embarrassing desperation, but the following should give you a pretty good idea of what went down:

I couldn’t understand some parts of this article, but I guess I just need to check some more resources regarding this, because it sounds interesting.

Wow, thanks! I’m sorry parts of the article were difficult to understand; I’ll try harder next time to be more clear.

I have to say, that I could not agree with you 100%, but it’s just my opinion, which could be wrong

Thank you! I welcome differences of opinions here. And I do appreciate that smiley face. It lets me know you really like me!

Hello! Found your blog on Google while searching for Least Allergic Dogs—quite some good info thanks, R. Kraven

Cool! I’m glad to know that you somehow found my post about scattering my dad’s ashes while searching for information on dogs . . . I guess.

I’m not a commenter to blogs in general, but your article really caught my eye. I had been looking for information on Catalog Discount Online Shopping on Ask.com, and was intrigued by the link to here.

Hello! I’m flattered that you were interested enough to comment. Especially since my post about my goiter doesn’t seem to have anything to do with catalog discounts.

Your site very good and interesting! Thank you! (buy cialis)

Thank you! And, no, I don’t really need Cialis, tho your almost-subliminal plea is tempting.

Hello webmaster. Man I love reading your blog, interesting posts! It was a great Wednesday peter francis geracirabbit husbandry.

O . . . kay. I’m glad you enjoy reading my posts, and yes, it was a great Wednesday. So, is that your real name or the result of a meme gone wrong?

Great,
I think that my wife unfaithful to me.
I have a wonderful plan for disclosure of her deceit.
WBR,
David

David: This sounds extremely intriguing, but I’m not sure what it has to do with my post on my big butt. Please come back and let us know how your plan worked out.

And my grandpa is a train fanatic.
I really enjoyed your page.
Glad to see other.Is cool and to say hello.
Best site!
Ok! Beautyful.
It is very creative.
Ok! Master!
Ok! Master!

Um. My grandpa was a bit of a train fanatic, too. So . . .  your first language is probably not English, right? That’s fine! All are welcome at I Do Things.

Sometimes I fell victim to comments that made perfect sense—until I looked at the sender’s e-mail or Web site.

Your Site Is Great! (tiny_nipples@gmail.com)

What a shame. I’d love to have kept this comment, but my mom reads this blog, and she doesn’t need to see a link to nipples of any size.

I like everything positive. I’m on this website since the first day of its existence and I have never seen anything negative on it. (http://about-herbal-penis-enlarvement)

Again, another fantastic comment, if only it weren’t associated with penis enlarvement. I can get behind penis enlargement—who doesn’t support that? But enlarvement is just plain wrong.

Thank goodness I started getting real comments from nice people whose e-mail addresses don’t refer to porn, drugs, or medical scams.

What are some of your favorite spam comments?

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No one dares spam humor blogs.