Just check out these fantastic buttons I received from ‘There will be Buttons’ on Etsy! 

I was browsing the site, trying to find something perfect for my husband, when Lieutenant Dan appeared with his ice cream cone and his headband.  Could it be any more perfect?  I think not.

Of course, to order a single button would be ludicrous.  Why, the $1 spent on the tiny button would be overshadowed by the $2 shipping fee.  And why order one, single, solitary, silly button when there are so many buttons to choose from?

I mean… Nell?? A coy looking Pee Wee?? And Buzz?  I want them all!!

I did not originally want Mr. Rogers, however.  I really wanted this fantastic Wayne’s World quote, but, alas, it was on another button site and I couldn’t get it…without ordering 7-10 buttons from that person.  I might still order it.  I’m not sure yet.  I do love silly buttons. Who am I kidding? I’m probably going to order it today.

Although I’m not sure who else I know loves to wear silly buttons.  Definitely not my husband… but he’s getting Lt. Dan and he’s going to love it.  If only he were just a little more geeky…then I could order all the things that make me giggle and I would giggle all the live long day!!

Thank you, button makers of the world!!

A tripod of gastrointestinal distress!


I’m not sure why, but the dreaded gas is back.  Without hesitation and like clockwork, it bubbles up and makes its appearance around dinnertime.  It’s impossible to hide.  It’s impossible to mask…or to hold in.  Yikes.

Perhaps it was the oatmeal or the latte or the Thai curry soup…most likely a deadly combination of all three.  A tripod of gastrointestinal distress!

Whatever the cause, it makes me giggle.  Obviously, I grow more concerned the more it ceases to dissipate…yet it makes me giggle like an immature 10-year-old boy making fart noises in his armpit.  It makes me laugh because it is so dang putrid.  Sometimes it resembles cheesy overcooked brussel sprouts while other times it has a distinct peanutty odor.  I realize that this is very open of me to share with you.  I apologize.

At times, I fart with every step I take.  It’s hilarious.

I run-fart up the stairs or do a long fart as I slide on stocking feet across the kitchen floor.  It makes me picture being in this trampoline park and farting at every bounce.  I giggle to myself as I imagine bouncing across the room, away from the green fog, leaving it bouncing in the air for everyone to behold.  I would try to drop a little bomb on each springy surface.  I don’t even think I could hold it in if I tried.  I would bounce up and out the door before they can even sniff me out…I disappear out the door, leaving an invisible gas path behind me.  It’s not a crime to fart.  It’s not.  Even the bloodhounds wouldn’t want to find me!  Poor dogs.

On the bright side, if I had a stalker…I wouldn’t have a stalker anymore.

Thee Arteest

pee wee

Being an artist myself (not on a daily basis and not for money. Ha.) I think that it is totally acceptable to make a little fun of my own kind.  Don’t you think?


It just makes me giggle so hard to myself to think of some of the things we arteests do and say and with what conviction we believe in them.  And that we are so serious about it.  It lends to that whole ‘pretentious artist’ stereotype when we don’t admit that what we do is actually quite humorous.

Searching dumpsters for interesting found objects, sewing with hair, stomping on a canvas, laboring over the perfect shade of teal, not sleeping, ingesting caffeine and nicotine like we’re being paid to, making things, destroying the thing we just made, and then repurposing our destroyed piece.

And we say, ‘it’s about the process.’

It’s hilarious!  It is.  admit it.  And I’m guilty of it too.  I used to make things with Rold Gold pretzels.  It’s not that I’m some New York Times art critic with 23 degrees in art and art history.  I respect artists immensely for their sacrifice and passion and I think everyone should.  I think it’s great when people can sustain themselves solely by creating things that they love.

I’ve met many artists in my days.  And many non-artists and people that don’t get it.  What’s to get?  They think we’re crazy and they all say I can’t even draw a stick person.  To the stick person drawing, I say Bullshit.  It’s really fucking easy to draw a stick person.  3 year olds can do it.  They just don’t criticize themselves.

That’s another giggly part about art.  We are so tortured.  We love what we do so much that it pains us.  Curled up in little, dirty fetus positions on paint stained floors sobbing.  Oh, and candles lit.  Radiohead playing quietly to encourage the sobs.

I met a kid the other day who said, ‘I just find things in the trash that speak to me, and then I place them against the wall in an interesting composition.’


I once told a client that I was going to make an art show just showcasing the different ideas that I had for the art.  Just ideas on paper, hung interestingly around a room.  No actual art.  He loved it.  He thought I was batshit crazy and thought it was hilarious and that I was making it up.  I sure was.




Isn’t it fun to learn new words?

I bought a word-a-day calendar for my husband so we could giggle about silly words that we’ve never heard but hope to use to sound smart.

This one is probably my favorite.  I feel like I could call every thing in my house a gimcrack.  Really.  Everything could potentially be a gimcrack.  Maybe even the house itself is a gimcrack.  Something showy, but with little value.  Say it a bunch of times: gimcrack gimcrack gimcrack gimcrack gimmycrackcorn…and I don’t care.

Maybe that’s what the line of the song means?  Gimmycrack corn and I don’t care??  Meaning he doesn’t care about these showy valueless items?  Showy corn???  Like corn in a beauty pageant, all showy and shit??  Like that talentless honey boo boo (no, I will not capitalize her name)?  Come to think of it…that is the only line of the song that I can recall at this moment.  I keep trying to figure out another line and all I keep singing in my head is gimmy crack corn and I don’t care.  I feel like there is a line about rain on the back of my neck and the mail always coming on time?

In honor of gimcrack…please try to use the word today, and everyday, until it is a staple in your everyday vocabulary.  Hopefully I can bring you more titillating words to tickle your fancy.  Hopefully they’re not boring ones that I’ve come across lately like multifarious or mnemonic.  Come one, bring me some good ol gimcrack words!!


I am obsessed with giggling.  I adore all things relating to humor and light-heartedness. 

I find many people to be cranky for no good reason. 

I have been one of those people as well.  There was a time that I let ‘the man’ get me down.  I let it get to me so badly.  And yet I tried to use that anger and resentment toward laughter. 

It turned out my humor became quite cynical and sarcastic.  It was appropriate for the right crowd….wink wink.  Not for all.  I was deemed ‘a downer.’ 

Me? A downer? Fuck that! 

For the past 6 months or so, I’ve been trying to reclaim my light-hearted witty giggles.  I suppose that might be why I paused my blog for a spell. 

It’s back.  I’m back.  Like a bitch slap to the face. 

And again, I find shit funny.  Regular, mundane shit.  Like the term ‘bitch slap.’ 

Let’s make a list of all the things that make us giggle. 

1. The shortened version of douche-bag: D bag.
2. Imagining people slipping on ice
3.  Nuts
4.  Any quote from the movie Wayne’s World.
5.  Conan
6.  Poorly drawn penises

Your turn.