I’m so tired of grocery store cashiers asking me if I want to round up for breast cancer. I say, “No, but I’d be willing to round down.” How we think, speak, and feel affects our health. They should ask, “Would you like to round up for longevity, independent living, vim and vigor?” Since there is a strong connection between obesity and breast cancer, they should ask, “Would you like to slim down to prevent breast cancer? Would you like to buy more fruit and vegetables to prevent cancer? Would you like to walk to the store to prevent breast cancer?”
The homeless population skyrocketed, recently. Or, men following the beard trend were mistakenly counted.
Mama June no longer looks like Papa Bear.
Looking for a tattoo on dark skin is like a virgin trying to find my . . . checkbook.
When I visit Hawaii and walk through the Honolulu airport, I see welcome signs with my name on them. Damn mosquitoes.
I have badass girlfriends. Two hiked up Kilimanjaro; I hiked up my skirt. One competed injured in the Olympic trials; I competed for the shortest line at the grocery store. Two battled cancer; I battled self-doubt. One graduated from college despite dyslexia; I graduated despite boy chasing.
April Fools! Those are big f_____ing horses. I’ll stick with massaging dogs, thank you. I did take this photo at PR Horse Park. It was my first time watching (& photographing) such an event. Really cool. Those young people are brave.
An alcoholic’s version of the Folger’s Coffee jingle: The best part of waking up is whiskey in your cup.
I have a solution for my anger issue: edible cigarette butts.
A few years ago, a photographer I consulted was commissioned for a pin-up shoot with me as the model. When I picked up our prints, the workers acted strangely and reluctant to hand over the photos. The manager said that she almost called the police. I couldn’t imagine why. The photos were beautiful, artful . . . and I was clothed. She said that the model looked underage. I said, “I’m the model and I’m 45 years old.” Photos in hand, I left the store beaming with high self-esteem. Then, I panicked. Did the manager judge my age by my bust line!?
Walk a mile in my shoes, and you’ll know what it’s like to have been around the block a few times.
A cashier said, “Your total is going to be $15.98.” I asked, “When?”
What’s more pathetic than having condoms so old that they are expired? Ones with expiration dates too faded to read.
I love men. If I were a guy I would definitely be gay. Instead, I’m a straight girl in a lesbian’s body. Does that make me transgender?
When we finally inhabit the moon, let’s get it right this time. No wheat, rye, or barley . . . and only people full of love.
I don’t currently hold any certifications, but I am certifiable.