Heard of inversion therapy for stress reduction and other health benefits?
Otherwise known as… standing on your head.
These boots are made for falling!
I was going to get a breast lift, but I decided it would be more fun to just stand on my head. Hanging upside down is a great way to look years younger!
Thanks to gravity, I dropped 25 pounds in one week – my breasts fell from up < HERE > to down < HERE >
My body has dropped so much, I have calluses on my tits.
Times Square Ball (Photo credit: Atomische • Tom Giebel)
The most famous New Year’s Eve DROP is the 11,875 pound geodesic sphere
that descends the flagpole at One Times Square in Manhattan. The Ball, 12
feet in diameter, has 2,688 crystal triangles bolted to 672 LED modules
which are attached to the aluminum frame of the Ball.
Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Barb Best and Barb’s Blast with appropriate and specific direction to the original content. Direct questions regarding permissions: barbsblast@gmail.com
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In Scrabble, the letter “F” merits a respectable four points. There are only two “F” tiles in the game set, which makes the number of words you can form with the letter “F” relatively limited.
In the real world, the “F” word is everywhere.
In the evolution of the English language, when did “Oh, darn!” become “Oh, Fu#!” What happened to “friggin?” When did “fudge” deteriorate into “Fu#!”?
When did “take the F train” become “take the ‘Fu#!-ing’ train?”
When did dropping the F-bomb so casually become the status quo?
“F” used to convey a meaning of failure. A rude, red “F” on a spelling quiz or a math exam would elicit disappointment, or at the least – some extra homework. Now, “F” means “Fantastic! Fabulous! Good effort! You’re gifted.“
Thank you, Adam Mansbach for your mega bestseller, “Go The F**k To Sleep.”
I’m writing a new book entitled “Stop hurling the “F” word every five seconds because you’re coarsening the language and culture. Plus it’s lazy and boring!”
At some point, talking like a truck driver became cooler than driving a truck. But like carbon emissions, sulfur dioxide, and lead, “F” contributes to air pollution.
We expect a liberal use of the “F” word from sailors, soldiers, pimps, graffiti artists, New Jersey housewives, Vice Presidents, and F-list stand-up comics, but not from role models or mommy bloggers.
Overheard at the dinner table:
Ten year old daughter: “Mommy uses the “F” word on her blog!”
Hubs (to Mom): “You do?”
Mom: “No, of course not. Well, sometimes, but -”
Daughter: “You shouldn’t say ‘butt’ either.”
Mom: “Sweetheart, I’m a writer. I have poetic license.”
Daughter: “I saw the “F” word twice on your last post.”
Hubs: “Great. I hope my parents don’t read your blog.”
Daughter: “And she says it on Twitter ALL the time!”
Hubs: “Geez…”
Mom: “Well, you know, everyone else does it…”
Daughter: “In CAPS. On Twitter. That’s like yelling it.”
Mom: “It’s for dramatic effect. I’m using the vernacular. Look it up, honey.”
“A former dentist in Massachusetts has pleaded guilty to Medicaid fraud for using paper clips instead of stainless steel posts in root canals. Authorities say instead of stainless steel posts for root canals, he used sections of paper clips — which can cause pain and even infection — in an effort to save money.”
Root canal is bad enough… without your endodontist cutting (no pun, ouch) corners in such a tawdry fashion. Instead…
Couldn’t he have just cancelled some of those swanky magazine subscriptions?
Or sell the flat screen TV in the waiting room? Not necessary! Nobody’s looking at it. Everybody has their head up focused on their cell phones.
Maybe cut down on the annoying muzak in the examining rooms? Man, we’re nervous enough.
Wax his own damn moustache?
This won’t hurt a bit!
Not pick up the tab for his perky, big boobed receptionist’s weekly manicures?
Engage in some serious extreme couponing like everyone else?
Oy, I wonder… Did he also recycle the bloody gauze from patients’ mouths?
Did he instruct his patients to bring their own water to rinse?
Stock up on his instruments from this guy?
If you’d like to indulge your paranoia over dentists, check these entertaining gems out:
I will downsize. This will involve donating 25 years + of crap (nonsense, rubbish, junk) that I no longer use and not getting new crap (nonsense, rubbish, junk). Clutter (see “crap”) is not only “stuck energy” – it is a real hassle to dust.
I will rid myself of the tendency to complain, whine, and kvetch. Gee, this is so hard to do… Whaa! Whaa! Whaa! OMG, what will I write about? Whaaaa!
No matter how compelling the separation issues may be, the laptop and cell phone will not be taken into the bathroom. Too many close calls (get it? calls?)
I will try not to stoop to the level of cheap puns and scatological humor (unless, of course, it amuses me and tickles the dog).
I will stop harboring the desire to eat an entire double-decker box of dark chocolate covered cherries in one sitting unless I’m given a month to live or have really bad PMS, then all bets are off.
However captivating it is to my Twitter followers, I will not tweet inappropriately from (i.e. nice restaurants, children’s birthday parties, business meetings, dental appointments, bed, car accidents, funerals, etc.). Social propriety trumps the compulsion to provide non-stop yuks (often at the expense of loved ones) to total strangers.
I will stop using the Lord’s name (and the Duggars) in vain. Amen.
When dressed in exercise clothes, I will actually make a serious effort to go to the gym and exercise.
I will stop considering french fries “vegetables” and strawberry licorice “fruit.”
I will not pull on my cuticles and shred them like confetti, no matter how dry they are or how excruciatingly boring the meeting/conversation/TV show is.
What do you get a two year old who already has a puppy or a kitten?
Yes, a giraffe! “The perfect accessory in a nursery, this eye-catching giraffe is a great addition to any decor!” Hope you have a ladder handy. Wonder how much bamboo and rat guts “Spotty” eats for breakfast every day?
My guest co-blogger this week is “Ditchthebun” from Sydney, Australia. Her blog is interesting and a lot of fun. Thank you Ditchthebun!
BARB: Everybody has a collection of some sort.Over the years, I’ve collected travel brochures, ceramic clowns, Mardi Gras comedy tragedy masks, Playbills, water globe souvenir pens, New Yorker Magazines, hot air balloon art prints, vintage postcards, and scented erasers.
I’ve known people who’ve collected china teacups, ceramic salt and pepper shakers, Lladro Porcelain figurines, Swarovski crystal, Rubik’s cubes, Barbie dolls, rock concert tee shirts, Netsukes, first edition books, playing cards, Beanie Babies, owl-dog-cat-bluebird chotchkes, toy elephants, swizzle sticks, refrigerator magnets, ex-husbands, and pet ashes.
Sloane Crosley described her cache of plastic ponies in the essay “The Pony Problem” in her hilarious New York Times Bestseller I Was Told There’d Be Cake published by Riverhead Books.
Ditchthebun collects ice-cube trays and molds. I find this fascinating, then again maybe I don’t bake or entertain enough.
DITCHTHEBUN:
Brains
We actually bought one for my cousin who is studying to be a doctor. It was basically a gag gift. Apparently he uses it all the time. His medical friends loved it so much, he asked me to get him more for them. Somehow I ended up with a spare.
“Oooh BrAiN fOoD!”
BARB: I hope that’s chocolate.
Chillbots Robots
Technically I think my fiancé bought these to give as a gift to a friend of his, but somehow they never got further than our house. I think he’s getting as bad as me now… he called me in the other night to show me a space invaders ice-cube tray.
Gin & Titonic
These were bought for use at one of my parents’ New Years Eve parties the year of the dreaded Y2K. The theme was World’s End and these ice cubes were in a punch bowl labelled “Going Down with the Ship.” I still have no idea what she put in that punch, but it tasted amazing and made my head all tingly
BARB: I’d like to see Leonardo DiCaprio ice cubes. Use your imagination.
Hearts
Originally these heart trays were bought to make rocky road hearts for bon bonnier for our wedding, but a few last minute stresses have severely limited our time so we’ve gone with something far more simple.
BARB: Simple like Twinkies or Hostess cupcakes?
Guitars
These were for my brother’s birthday party. I still claim them as my own, but they are rarely home these days. Every Easter I make them into chocolate molds and decorate the top for my brother.
Penguins
Honestly I don’t think there was a rhyme or reason behind getting these. I thought they were cute and the tray cost $2 so I thought why not?! Mostly use just for myself in a drink on a Friday afternoon after work (Or when someone has forgotten to fill the regular ice tray yet again and is desperate for ice – you know a macho man is desperate when he has chubby penguins floating in his scotch and coke).
BARB: Penguin ice cubes – perfect for a global housewarming party.
Baby Feet
This has been used several times for baby showers, baby naming days etc. I think technically it is supposed to be used for fondant, but I don’t really like fondant. So I have taken to making milk, dark, white & marble chocolate feet. They are a huge hit.
What do YOU collect? We’d love to know! Let us know briefly under “Comments” and win a new copy of The Beverly Hills Organizer’sHome Organizing Bible: A Pro’s Answer to Your Organizing Prayers.
*Winner will be selected on December 1st, 2011. Good luck!
A humor book makes a meaningful, high value, yet affordable gift. Experience the joy that comes from sharing laughter.
These 10 titles are available as quality paperbacks and ebooks on Amazon.
The authors are all funny, sharp women. Check them out…
The CHICK-tionary From A-Line to Z-Snap, the Words Every Woman Should Know by Anna Lefler
Hilarious. Includes 450+ words no woman can live without! Destined to be a comedy classic.
Got Milf?The Modern Mom’s Guide to Feeling Fabulous, Looking Great, and Rocking a Minivan by Sarah Maizes
Funny and affirmative. “Celebrates where the modern woman has taken motherhood.” A mom can so be hot!
How Not to Act Old185 Ways to Pass for Phat, Sick, Hot, Dope, Awesome, or at Least Not Totally Lame by Pamela Redmond Satran
Brilliant, laugh-out-loud funny, and highly informative. A must read!
I REMEMBER NOTHING And Other Reflections by Nora Ephron
A delightful, insightful look at the past, present, and future by the charming and witty Renaissance woman Nora Ephron.
I FEEL BAD ABOUT MY NECKAnd Other Thoughts On Being A Woman by Nora Ephron
Hysterical. The chapter “Parenting In Three Stages” is gold.
I STILL HAVE IT… I Just Can’t Remember Where I Put It
Confessions of a Fiftysomething by Rita Rudner
“Near-sighted insights” about aging from the very likable, extremely amusing comedian, actress, screenwriter, and author.
Rebel Without A Minivan Observations on Life in the ‘burbs
by Tracy Beckerman
Highly entertaining collection of essays by the author of the popular syndicated humor column, LOST IN SUBURBIA® and grand prize winner of The Balancing Act’s “America’s Top Blogger.”
Sitting On Cold Porcelain by Rose A. Valenta
Amusing, perceptive collection of satirical essays about current events and politics by top syndicated columnist and humorist.
Confessions of A Semi-Natural WomanMostly True Tales of a Woman under the Influence of Laughter by Leigh Anne Jasheway
Funny stuff from award-winning humor writer, motivational speaker, and stand-up comedienne. She has an M.P.H. – “master of public health/mistress of public humor!”
The Women’s Daily Irony Supplement by Judy Gruen
Classic collection of comedic essays on family and foibles that succeeds beautifully at being both sophisticated and relatable.
Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Barb Best and Barb’s Blast with appropriate and specific direction to the original content. Direct questions regarding permissions: barbsblast@gmail.com
Be a fan of “Barb’s Blast Humor Blog” on Facebook, CLICK HERE Follow me on Twitter, CLICK HERE
You can’t avoid the envelope. It has that unmistakable crimson ink branded on jaundiced yet official looking “Penalty by Law” speckled government surplus paper! The kind of sad paper they use in prison bathrooms, inner city schools and Port-O-Sans.
Oh, joy! It’s your annual “Howdy Duty Time” greeting from the Superior Court of (insert any major city with a crime rate that exceeds its literacy rate.)
It reads: “Hi there chump! Here is your Summons for Jury Service. May your work schedule, social life and special travel plans be disrupted for the foreseeable future. Any slacker who blows this off, pretends to be dead or fakes a highly contagious disease will be fined $1500 (Penal Code FU-505.)”
“You may postpone your service for up to 90 days, but then we’ll really nail your ass on a long gruesome criminal case so why not just go ahead and eat the nasty frog? After all, jury ‘duty’ is a privilege, not a punishment, right?
They’ve got you licked, so you buck up like a good citizen, put your life on hold and head down to the courthouse on the assigned date.
There is an hour and a half commute in rush hour traffic, a nasty battle for a parking spot, a security process that resembles a cavity search, and an elevator ride where you are sandwiched between beefy guys with gang tattoos plastered across their subway- train-size heads.
The jury room (termed “the pool” – short for cesspool?) is located in the bowels of the courthouse and is depressingly reminiscent of detention hall in your recurring nightmare of high school hell.
The prospective jurors (“detainees”) are not happy campers. Most feel as if they have just been arrested themselves. Mournful sighs and expressions of “I never thought I’d miss my (insert job, kids, unemployment) so much” ripple through the bereaved bunch like a wave at a baseball game.
At some point (you’ve lost track of time) you’re sent to a courtroom hallway to wait – standing – for a few more hours with a group of 12 x 12 angry men and women.
In the “Voir Dire” (French for “say something Guano crazy and you get to go home”) the judge will ask if anyone has a significant reason not to serve on a trial. This is a highly entertaining opportunity to see just how creative (and desperate) your fellow detainees are – and how far they will go to be sprung from the joint.
A mousy woman peeps up, “I was arrested for an axe murder and it was a bad experience for me. I carry a buzz saw in my underpants. Wanna see?” (Bingo. Bye honey!)
“I hate all cops. They all lie. I wouldn’t believe any cop who told me anything, even if they just saved my twin babies from a burning car crash.” (Ding! You win the freezer. Adios, amigo!)
“I hate all (insert the race, gender, religion, political party of your choice.) The #!#@!#s are all #!#@!# crooks and should all be executed. Let me flip the #!#@!# switch.” (Don’t let the door hit your walker on the way out, granny!)
“I hit and run for a hobby. Helps me vent my road rage. Got a texting teen on the way her!” (Hmm, were you charged with that? If not, you can serve.)
And so it drags on, a tedious game of twenty dumb bunny questions in excruciatingly slow motion. There is a note taped to the jury box facing our seats. It says: “No gum chewing. No flip-flops. No alcoholic beverages allowed. DO NOT SLEEP!”
As hours and days drag by at a sadistic pace, you may bond inappropriately with total strangers who have been similarly randomly targeted. Affairs are not uncommon as there are more long bathroom and lunch breaks than any preschooler could imagine.
Call it Stockholm syndrome, but you may find yourself falling madly for the handsome judge who looks so sharp in those slimming black robes. Nobody apologizes incessantly for delays the way “Hugh” does.
Then, for no seemingly rational reason at all, it ends abruptly. You are excused. Free to go. Justice has been served. Ode to Joy! Never will you see mentally stable, cold sober folks act so ebullient in public. You’d think they just won fifty grand and a red Corvette on a game show. “Yippee! I’m free! Now I can make my root canal appointment!”
