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Dear Diary,
Bathtub Gangsta is right. I AM an MC Hammer-coat-wearin’ mo-fo. And he’s so cool with that soul patch and low riders. I can’t even grow facial hair. Unless Sue Sharpies some in on me.
I feel so lost. This is worse than the Jim Carrey thing.
When you’re lost and don’t know where to turn, people always tell you to go back to the beginning. That’s what I’ll do! If I start at the beginning, there’s no way I can go wrong!
 My self-esteem feels better already.
 Thanks for the push in the right direction BG!
No one listens like you Diary!
Yours,
V. Ice
One day when I was chillin’ on the play room floor
Jus’ mindin’ my own business with a Bud Light and a Coors
My homey comes in lookin’ strange and kinda funny
Come up to me, and said, “Hey Ice, you wanna honey?”
I said, “Hell yeah” and he took me round the back
Can’t wait to see my Barbie with the double-D size rack
I opened up my eyes and my face was kinda stony
He ditched me in the stable with Honey Pie Pony
I be illin’
I be illin’
I went downtown for some seamless spin
The bouncer at the door, he wouldn’t let me in
I said “F*** that” and he threw me out the door
So I made my own club with a loco dance floor
That place was so hot, the scratchin’ was hip
‘Til I saw I was scratchin’ on a poker chip.
I be illin’
I be illin’
The other day ‘round the way I was illin’ in the hot sun
Drunk as skunk, slammed my junk in the hatchback of my Datsun
So I went inside, grabbed the ‘trol, played Spiderman
‘Til Jay says, “Hey dude, you gotta plug it in.”
I be illin’
I be illin’
------------------------------------------------------- ps. Please visit the one and only, original Bathtub Gangsta over at Happy Meal & Happy Hours! pps. Please excuse the blue wad of fun-tack holding his glasses on. ppps. Click on Humor-Blogs please to help my ranking - I wasted a whole lotta time with needle and thread on the dumb shirt!
It's Saturday and the brain cells were sweated out at the massive fairgrounds yard sale this morning, ensuring that I would blend. As if GirlChild in her red, fuzzy sweatpants rolled to the knee hadn't already done that. After perusing other people's trash, it was time to leave when the sweat bead rolled down my nose onto a book and we had to take off before the squat lady on the lawn chair managed to unwedge her hips and make me buy it. Come on BoyChild! Don't let those flip-flops slow you down! Earlene's put down her Big Gulp and is making to leave her shade tent in our direction!!
Because I'm enjoying my full-blast-ozone-depleting AC in front of the computer just now, I decided to take the weenie way out of blogging for the day and take the geek test here. Just wanted to confirm what I already knew.
 I scored at 31.55819% ensuring my standing at 'TOTAL GEEK'.
It helps when you have a history of watching 'The X-Files', actually own Scully and Mulder dolls and quoted Yoda in conversation.
Have a great weekend folks! I'm off to take the kids swimming.... In our neighbor's pool.... Since they're away for the weekend.
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Click here for non-geek-Humor-Bloggers.
If there was a problem, yo, I’ll solve it Check out the hook while my DJ revolves it. .
Ice is back and ready for some action
Wearing slick pants just like Michael Jackson
Kickin' - the party is jumpin'
With the bass boomin' and my white socks pumpin’
My street cred on the scene
Bathtub Gangsta, feel what I mean
In the warzone with Snoop & Tupac
My flygirl, Barbara, got my back
 Ice Ice Baby too cold, too cold...
Ice Ice Baby too cold... I busted a left and I’m heading to the next block Girls in the sand on the Maryland beachfront Hot ho's goin' round topless Gonna get me a piece of that hot mess 
Jealous ‘cause I’m out getting mine
Barb with a gauge and Ice with a nine 
Gunshots rang out like a bell
Grabbed my Pokeball, all I heard where shells Falling on the concrete all I could do Yo Pikachu… I choose you! 
Yo man let’s get out of here
Word to your mother. 
------------------------------------- * Please visit the most funny Sue and her Bathtub Gangsta who very kindly said she didn't mind me doing this terrible thing. ** I realize the Pokemon featured is NOT in fact Pikachu, but I couldn't locate him. I figure most of you wouldn't be able to tell the difference anyhow. ------------------------------------- Yo! Check out Humor-Blogs. True dat.
For the life of me, I can't remember what Babycakes and I were talking about that led to the following dialogue:
Alice: Watch out, or I'll blog about you tomorrow.
Babycakes: Fine! You do that!
Alice: I will.
Babycakes: Fine!
Alice: I already know what it will be about.
Babycakes: Fine!
And these are the sort of in-depth, heartfelt talks we have. The same sort you'd have in third grade on the playground.
Babycakes and I have fundamental differences when it comes to stuff in our house. Babycakes is packrat-ish (but not that crazy type with boxes to the ceiling and receipts for gum you bought in 1983). He just likes his stuff. I, Alice, am a thrower-awayer. I DON'T LIKE STUFF.
To give you a small example, when we first got married, Babycakes already owned a house. After BoyChild was born, we moved to a new house. In the midst of packing up, Babycakes found an old suitcase full of clothes that had NEVER BEEN OPENED from his initial move-in.
Alice: Just throw it away. You haven't seen those things in 8 years, you'll never miss them.
Babycakes: Ohhh coooool! I LOVE this shirt!
This suitcase was filled with seriously dated items from the '80s. *sigh*
And so I hope to showcase some items from Babycakes' side of the closet that he WILL NOT let me toss out.
Number 1: I will give Babycakes credit in that he's never actually worn this sweater and I believe it's kept for sentimental value. I don't know what the sentiment is, maybe I-might-attend-the-Gay-Pride-Parade. Perhaps he'll leave us a comment and let us know.
Number 2: Fluorescent Orange Sweat Pants. 
These pants look sort of squat, but in reality, Babycakes is like 6'4". He likes to wear these in the winter while he shovels snow or goes on other winter-y excursions. Maybe he wears them so the rescue chopper will be able to spot him when he collapses on the driveway. *chopper sounds* Red Leader, we've spotted the missing per...ARGHHH...can't see...Headquarters...repeat...can't see...the sunlight reflecting off pants...CHOPPER DOWN!!!! I hope this picture is conveying the absolutely BLINDING aspect of these sweats. I'm convinced they are more than just cotton, because unless it's radioactive, dye can't possibly be that bright. Number 3: Green 80's shirt. Babycakes has actually been known to wear this shirt to work as recently as last year. I think he does it because he knows I hate it, but I think he really loves it just a little bit too. 
You can't find quality paisley like this anymore! That makes this shirt, like, 20 years old! 
Now look at the picture below and see if you know where I'm heading with this.
Yes, BoyChild and GirlChild noticed the resemblance between the curtains on Thomas' head and Daddy's Green Shirt.
------------------------------------------- If you care to click on Humor-Blogs to improve my ranking, I'll give you kisses!
While you folks are boo-hoo-ing over the price of gas and no tomatoes on your burger, I'm here to alert you to a crisis you may have missed. Yes...the NATIONAL MEALWORM SHORTAGE! Why hasn't the CDC put out some sort of Amber Alert on this?
I'm just a chick trying to keep her daughter's frogs fed and when I go to Petco, I EXPECT tubs of mealworms to be staring me in the face. When I ask where in the hell the mealworms are, I expect a "Yes Ma'am, I'll get them right away Ma'am" from the pimply-faced teen because I've got a coffee sitting in my car getting colder by the second.
"David" spoke to me on the condition of anonymity and said that they were in fact sold out and there was a NATIONWIDE SHORTAGE.
 While processing this new information, laughing hysterically on the inside, and wondering how cold my drink was gonna be by the time I came up with a solution, I spotted a bottle of Fluker's Freeze Dried Meal Worms. BINGO!
Doesn't staring at this bottle just make you wanna slip it into someone's spice cabinet? Or invite company over and put it onto your table beside the parmesan and red pepper flakes? Maybe sprinkle a few onto a salad before serving it up.
Anyhoo...I grabbed the second to last bottle of Freeze-Dried Meal Worms and in all honesty, I might go back tomorrow to grab the last one too. You never know how long a shortage like this is gonna last and I kinda have that hording/every-frog-owner-for-himself mentality. Dammit! I love those frogs and I don't care if I have to lie, steal, cheat or kill. As God is my witness, Susan and Prince Caspian will never be hungry again.
 Did I tell y'all that I LOVE me some Scarlett?
This post is dedicated to my favorite frog lover. Check her out sometime!
Oh! And my Star Wars Sox pal, Diana, gave me my very first award! See side panel at the bottom. Woo hoo! Thanks Diana!
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Try Fluker's Freeze-Dried Humor!
 Is it me or do you other chicks keep a razor in your car? I always discover my hairy knees when I'm driving. Hairy knees that I did a bad job on when shaving in the shower. So if I keep the razor in my car, I can take care of business without obsessing over it or having to pull into Walgreen's for an emergency razor. I also keep emergency dental floss in there too. Right next to The Club. It's like the trifecta of emergency supplies.
I'm a fan of good ol' Gillette Good News. No lube strips. No quadruple blades. Straight up cutting action. Really, what can you do to improve a razor blade? I'm not looking for pink and ergonomic.
And this is the question that haunts me with toothbrushes. I'm tired of toothbrush ads on TV. My God! If you haven't maximized the potential of a toothbrush at this point, give it up. Stick...bristles...the end.
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Chem-lawn came to take care of our yard today. We don't pay for the entire lawn because we couldn't afford that and food at the same time, but we get about the front acre and a bit done. Dude was loading the chemicals into a hand cart when we pulled up.
"Dude...where's your little motor-powered-fertilizer-vehicle you drive around on?"
"I'm the only one who doesn't have one."
"Your time here is gonna suck then."
When he left, he put the bill on our front door handle, which jiggled and got our attention. As we looked over through the glass, we got a full-on view of him hitching his pants up past his EXPOSED underwear with a BULLSEYE on his butt. BoyChild almost choked on his laughter. It was nice to have a shared moment of hilarity like that.
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I've lived in a lot of places, one of which was Oklahoma. You expect tornadoes in Oklahoma.
My old hometown of Savannah got pummeled by a tornado yesterday. As long as I've been around down there, we have hurricane warnings year after year and fortunately nothing ever hits. We were even spared by Sherman. But a FREAKIN' TORNADO?! WTF?
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Oh...and Bathtub Gangsta...watch your step.. V.Ice is gonna pop a cap in that belt buckle soon.
----------------------------- For more randomness, you can click on Humor-Blogs.
Jungle overtaking yard...found Jane Goodall observing chimpanzees in overgrowth around pond...too tired to blog...but the spirit of Homer has come over me: -----------------------------------  Homer: Oh, these sure are comfortable chairs.
Burns: Oh, yes, sitting. The great leveler. From the mightiest Pharaoh to the lowliest peasant, who doesn't enjoy a good sit?
Homer: Oh, man, you are so right. Did you ever sit like this?
Burns: Yes, yes, that's it. Oh, I could go for one of those right now. The only hard part is getting up.
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 To distract my brain from mind-numbing words like ‘maximum likelihood estimation’ during my too-long school career, I competed in just about every intramural sport they put out. I played volleyball, wally-ball and basketball. I know there were other 'sports' but they’ve apparently been suppressed, probably due to lame sounding names like Intramural Speed Typing. First Place eluded me. I would walk around the office, ranting that I wasn’t leaving this school until I won SOME/ANY intramural event... even Intramural Word Search.
 Come spring, we put together our/my last and final attempt at a win – the Statistics Department Intramural Softball Team. It may not strike fear into your heart, but it should. No one does baseball/softball like statisticians. People who love numbers, love baseball and play accordingly. Our professors came out of the woodwork to join the team and showed up, ready to play with their tube socks and ‘70s too-short-shorts. From the waist down, they dressed a lot like Kareem, but could hit and field like the pros.
Finally. I could taste victory. We named our team ‘The BUE’s’ for ‘Best Unbiased Estimators.’ We embraced our inner-nerd. Fear us and fear our cryptic name!
We played well through the season and made it to the finals.... against the Library Science team. Whaaaa?!? *snort* Library Science? Snap. My victory is in the bag.
Daisy Duke steps up to bat for Library Science. She’s got on her namesake shorts and a white, frilly top. We all move in. Then Daisy hits it outta the park. We were doomed and I’ll sum up by saying that I never achieved my goal of winning an intramural award, but my fellow teammates made up for it with this:
The smallish circled word underneath says: (almost). Thanks guys! ------------------------------------------------ Loser of the Intramural Humor-Blog Caption Contest
In true Alice/Babycakes form, we arrived at the church as the bridal party was gathering to descend down the aisle. For those who don’t know me, I cannot explain this anomaly since I am PERPETUALLY early to everything else. Being early is my sickness. Unless it’s a wedding. I blame a good portion of that on the massive church compound, locating the chapel on said compound, parking a mile away from said chapel and walking in heels that I wear twice a year.
The priest managed to work in the prospect of spousal death during his REALLY long and boring homily wherein Babycakes and I looked at each other and did the Wha???-face. I then spent many minutes studying the nuances of stained glass and weak air conditioning. To completely class-up the wedding, I put a scrunchie in my hair half-way through before the sweat could bead up any more on the back of my neck.
At the reception, we went through emotions like a rollercoaster.
Down Rollercoaster: Holy hell! They squashed us into the table with 10 people when I can plainly see there are tables with only 7 people.
Up Rollercoaster: Yay! We’re sitting with the WAY FUN contingent of the groom’s family from Georgia! And there’s an open bar!
At our table, there were some lovely white chocolate flowers on the plates.
 Alice's Brain: Oooo…chocolate… *shove into face*
Alice's Brain: My, they’re soft.
Alice's Brain: My, they’re bland.
Alice's Brain: My….they’re butter….
I was successfully able to deposit our thrift shop object d’art onto the gift table at the reception. We thought it might be difficult since the crowd was so small and intimate, but I excused myself during the buffet swarm and snuck it in. It’s easy to disappear when there’s a single-minded crowd elbowing each other for green beans.
We drank. We danced. We left to relieve a very good friend we had to abuse for this event. Poor thing babysat for 8 hours and couldn’t figure out our television.
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Click on Humor-Blogs please...for ranking purposes...which could always use a boost.
I generally don’t watch much TV unless it’s got the word “Survivor” or “Rock Hard Abs” in the title. But with the kids sucking up the bedroom last night and Babycakes World of Warcrafting on the computer,  I flipped on the TV to a show called ‘MonsterQuest’ and found them investigating the Lizzie Borden House in Massachusetts. My good friend Lucy has been trying to talk me into spending a night at the Lizzie Borden House for a while. Our conversations go like this:
Lucy: Let’s go stay at the Lizzie Borden House!
Alice: No.
 I’m all about visiting during high noon with plenty of people forming a safety circle around me, but come evening, I’ll be at the HoJo’s with cable reruns of ‘The Brady Bunch’ and a normal heart rate.
With all their fancy infrared cameras and audio equipment, MonsterQuest didn’t really prove anything, but they sure know how to edit a bunch of nothing into a flood of endorphins and creeping scalp. And then the cat goes into alert mode at nothing on the stairwell. That’s it, flip on all the lights.
Here is my great brain divide: in my heart of hearts, I don’t really believe in ghosts. In my heart of hearts, if I think my house is even remotely haunted, the FOR SALE sign goes up tomorrow. I’ve seen Poltergeist and I’m no fool.
About seven years ago, my friend Jill was getting married over in Virginia and I was in the wedding party. Her Mom had a house near the wedding site and she invited me to spend the night there before the wedding the next day. It was an older, Colonial-era house that had been revamped and was completely lovely.
We eat, do some small talk, and start gathering bags to head upstairs for bed. Jill’s brother pipes up, “Did you tell her about the ghost?”
Alice: (WTF! – He didn’t just say that right before I head upstairs. At night. With no HoJo’s around.) *expression halfway between disbelief and grimace crosses face*
Jill’s Mom: Oh, don’t worry, it’s a nice ghost.
I don’t give a rat’s ass if it’s Caspar bringing me flowers – I DON’T DO HAUNTED!
They all start talking about cold spots and candlesticks moving and all I wanted to do was put my hands over my ears, close my eyes and say ‘LALALALA….CANT’ HEAR YOU…’
Jill and I are sleeping in the same room (thankfully). I lie down, clamp my eyes shut and vow not to open them until morning. Around 2 am, all the liquid at dinner is screaming at me to find a toilet.
Nope. I can hold it another 4-5 hours for daylight.
And this is where I discovered that NOT peeing on someone’s furniture trumped possibly seeing an apparition. With head down, I ran to the bathroom and took the fastest whizz I ever took and jumped back into bed. I tell you it's possible to do this fast enough that you will miss any paranormal activity around you.
And I can safely say that I was not visited that night because of my massive mental powers of dissuasion that I was throwing off. Y’all might have felt them.
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Lizzie Borden took an axe, gave Humor-Blogs 40 whacks...
I can't figure out if we're housing the slowest and/or dumbest fly colony, or if this whole fly-catching thing is just what GirlChild's talent is.
For those not in the loop, check out the manifestation of GirlChild's Fly Powers in this post.
She caught three more yesterday.
And when she releases it - IT JUST WALKS AROUND ON HER HAND!
 What the HELL?
 Was it because I watched 'Rosemary's Baby' while pregnant?
Blue Man Group in Vegas at 5 months gestation?
And she snagged two today.
 I mean, seriously, look at this this! My fly-girl's got another one walking the end of her finger!
 Nana, fire up the sewing maching. We're gonna need a spandex body suit w/ cape STAT!
So y'all can just take down those pics of your baton-twirling, pink-wearing, tap-dancing daughters and hide them away, because there's a new girl in town. She who controls the flies, controls the universe. Muahahaha... And even better, I'm the controller of she who controls the universe - BRILLIANT! ------------------------- Check out Humor-Blogs for funny stuff not related to flies.
I spent a good chunk of this afternoon mowing the remaining two acres of yard in the 200 degree heat, finalizing the most amazing burn to date.
 This far surpasses my previous burn pattern.
 I did this while fending off the hordes of deer fly. Do you know how it feels to be stung by one of those? Like a horse fly. Have you seen a chick mow while fending off deer flies? Like a gran mal seizure on wheels. Can you mow a straight line while doing this? No.
I was slathered in a layer of sunblock with a top coat of Backwoods Off. I was plenty slick, and I guess the deer flies just took a look and saw a big ol' KFC special, extra crispy, heavy on the grease.
When the final blade was done, I gazed lovingly at the kid's inflatable pool. A pool that is a tad slimy, a little sandy and has a fine mix of grass clippings floating below an oil slick from the kid's sunblock. I sunk under what looked to be some crude from the Exxon Valdez...and it was HEAVENLY.
In other news, while trolling the blog world - I located a meme here. OK, maybe it's not a meme, but I'd figure I'd give you my advice anyhow.
Give me 5 tips or tricks for keeping your house clean and clutter-free.
1. Walk around with a wooden spoon in your hand.
2. Yell a lot.
See - I'm so good that I only need TWO tips/tricks for keeping my house clean and clutter-free.
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Every time you click on Humor-Blogs, I'll kill a deer fly in your name!
I've been in a blogging lull / funk. I'm wondering if it's because I've was formally handed my ample backside on a platter at the last Pokemon Battle Roads Tournament where I placed DEAD. LAST. DEAD LAST - and that was with a Bye that counted as a win.
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My sister alerted me to this:
 It's difficult to see, but on her Calorie Counter Quick List, they've included 'Ham Shank.' Because when I get the munchies and amble on over to the fridge, hoping that a pint of Ben-n-Jerry's will magically appear, I go for my ever-present ham shank instead and quickly check my Calorie Counter Quick Link to see how many points it's going to cost me. ------------------------------------ I went to Mike's on Saturday with some old friends, and while my crab cake sandwich was completely awesome, the sweat dripping down my back and the side of my face as we sat outside was not. The weather has been killer humid with some fantastic storms in the evening. The winds started kicking the other afternoon and GirlChild and I went outside to round up the floaties that were flying across the yard. As she makes it to the edge of the yard, chasing one, the sky turns completely black, trees are bending at crazy angles with the wind and I start screaming for her to abandon the floatie and just get the hell back to the house before she's carried away. -----------------------------------  And last, but not least - Babycakes and I found this horrid little gem at the thriftshop for $1. We're going to find some perfectly anonymous wrapping paper and slip it into the gifts at his cousin's wedding next weekend. I'm pretty sure most of his family doesn't read this blog, but if you are...SHHHH...it's a secret!
We had some really horrible potholders once that we ditched at a baby shower and it was beautiful in that someone else took the flack for it. No one believed her denial. Muahhahahhaa... ------------------------------------ Calorie Counter Quick Link to Humor-Blogs.
I've got a pair of sneakers that are offending me. And not just a little bit.
I've worn these guys for at least 6 months when I was actually going to the gym and had no stink issues. I treadmilled. I elliptical-ed. Fresh as a daisy.
I wore them ONE time to do yardwork and now they have a funk that just won't quit. I offend myself when I wear them.
I made the mistake of wearing them to a poker tourney and started to get a whiff at the table. I went ahead and made preemptive apology to the table in case they were getting a drive-by whiff too. It's truly bad when you can smell them and your foot is still IN the shoe.
I threw them into the washing machine. Little impact.
I doused them with Carribean Mist Air Freshener. Now they smell like funk & coconuts.
I really should just throw them away.
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Humor-Blogs stinks. Like my sneaks.
GirlChild has an affection for all things gross and uncuddle-y.
Ex. 1 - Tenty the Tentworm
Well, GirlChild is a new mom to two Fire Bellied Toads/Frogs (? - whatever they had at Petco) and we've introduced a whole new level of nastiness to the kitchen. I don't mean the frogs - they're actually pretty cool for a pet because they move around and watching them swallow a cricket whole is fascinating.
Sue - I had absolutely NO influence on the naming of these frogs as you are undoubtedly thinking.
The gross part is that I have to keep the meal worms in my fridge and a bag of crickets on the counter.
As is GirlChild's manner, a meal worm or cricket cannot go directly into the frog habitat. It must be manhandled, petted and played with and then out comes, "Mom...you wanna hold it?"
"No. Not really."
Today, GirlChild catches a fly WITH HER BARE HANDS! She's either that good, or the fly was that slow and stupid. I'm thinking of getting her some chopsticks and calling her Ms. Miyagi.
She plays with it, maims it and is now housing it in some random container where I can hear it weakly pleading, "Don't let her touch me again...kill me...please..." as it waves its crippled wing at me.
I imagine the frogs, the crickets and the meal worms are singing the same song. You gotta be tough to survive GirlChild's hands-on care.
Now based on all this evidence, can you tell me why she pitches a fit and screams "SPIDER!" when I ask her to turn on the outdoor water faucet?
---------------------------------------- Click to see the Yellow Bellied Humor-Blog Frog.
Another of my life's treasures has bitten the big one.
BoyChild and GirlChild were attempting to make boomerangs using popsicle sticks. It was too sad watching them try to tape sticks together, so I dusted off my boomerang and let them have a go in the backyard. Even with firm instructions as to what direction they could throw it and some vague threats about what would happen if someone's head got hit, I didn't factor in BoyChild's leftiness . He managed to curve it around the house right into an 8 foot high juniper hedge. That boomerang ain't coming back without a reciprocating saw.
As I reflected on my lost boomerang - I thought back on the days when Babycakes and I were making money hand over fist, instead of like now where I just stick out an empty hand and hope people put some money into it. We spent our honeymoon in New Zealand and Australia where I purchased many items. This is my wooden bowl from NZ.
I didn't anticipate the headache that bowl would prove to be entering Australia because of the bark around the lip. Apparently, bark can harbor cooties and as an island, Australia likes to keep the cooties out. It was like the Bowl of Plague based upon the inspector's expression.
I just paid forty freaking dollars for this bowl and it's coming with me even if it's slathered in Ebola.
 We enter Australia where we purchase many more items. So many in fact that we needed to purchase another bag to send some treasure home ahead of us. Babycakes and I enter a little thrift store and find a bag that looked like this, only it didn't have a big passport plastered on the front like this picture I found on the internet.
Thriftstore Woman: Will this bag work for you?
Us: It's perfect. How much?
Thriftstore Woman (thinking): How about 10 ..... cents?
Us (thinking we just hit the jackpot): Here's a quarter, keep the change.
We had been ready to fork over 10 bucks for this bag and when she tacked on the 'cents' part of that, we about fell over. So we packed up 60 pounds of our newest belongings and sent them home (minus my Bowl of Plague that I cradled everywhere we went). What I couldn't pack up and send in the bag was my newest piece of eye-candy: my didgeridoo - that I now proudly display on coat hooks.
Bringing that badboy home involved purchasing a mattress pad, garbage bags and lots of tape and creating something you might see on COPS at the end of a drug bust. When we landed in Los Angeles, I was now carrying a contraband bowl and a large tampon-ish looking item through customs that totally looked like it was hiding a few kilos. Customs Agent: Do you have anything to declare? Us: Yes. Customs Agent: Go on through. Us: (WTF?!) Uh...OK... The trick to getting through customs in LA quickly is to arrive at the same time as the plane from Colombia. Then they don't give a shit that you're bringing in bowls of plague from the South Pacific. ---------------------------------------------- I bet I can fit Humor-Blogs in my red, white and blue bag.
As requested by the man himself:
 And THIS is the real purpose of the mystery button, my friend, as proposed by Deb on the Rocks (sorta). -------------------------------------------- Humor-Bloggers are pressing buttons.
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