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?”
I didn’t make it on America’s Got Talent.
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?
Door knocking casualty. Who thought it was a good idea to build a retaining wall and not secure the top tiles? Who thought it was a good idea to do parkour in a dress while carrying books? I think I broke my thumb. Of course I kept going–Lamaze breathing and all–but I didn’t earn any sympathy twenties.
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.
I had a fun shopping spree. I bought all I could that was made in China; soon I won’t be able to. My new shoes were made in China! My purse is from China! My pants are from China! Am I sure I don’t want to adopt a child?
The obesity epidemic is evident even in missing children ads. Every age progressed child is obese. Eventually, the ad space will have to expand to fit these larger people. Some of the children are so homely, too. I’m not surprised they went missing. Maybe their parents took the children to the mountains, like people do with dogs they don’t want anymore.
A postal worker takes several package slips at once, looks for the boxes, and brings them to the counter. Then, the worker yells your home address. So much for confidentiality. The clerk might as well say, “2650 Elk Ln. You don’t lock your doors at night. Here’s your package. Let’s see. 6156 Canyon Dr. You have an old corvette in the driveway with the keys in the glove compartment. Here’s your package. 72 Elm St. You keep your cash hidden in the freezer. There you are.”
Let’s stop arguing about gun control. Let’s argue driving control. If there weren’t so many bad drivers, I wouldn’t need to own a gun.
I have never been offended by something a comedian said. Ever. They aren’t addressing or referring to anyone specifically (except celebrities). It’s not like comedians are inserting my name in every joke. “I don’t trust people who hate cats . . . like Jeanne Murdock.” “Personal trainers are just athletes with no brains . . . like Jeanne Murdock.” “People with celiac disease are always complaining about the gluten-free diet . . . like Jeanne Murdock.” OK the last one is true, and I’m still not offended. Remember: How you feel at any given moment is your choice.
At a restaurant, I heard a waitress ask a man if he would like another beer. He said, “No. I’m driving.” I laughed and choked on my food. That proclamation was supposed to come before the first drink.
Before I realized that Old Navy was a store, I wondered if dentures could float.
I invited a friend over for dinner. When he saw all the spaghetti on my kitchen ceiling, he asked, “Your timer is broken, too?”
I was pulled over for drunk driving. After the cop called in my information, I heard the dispatcher say, “Her record is so clean I can smell bleach residue.” Nevertheless, the officer requested that I take a field sobriety test, but I plead the fifth. Then, I used my phone to show him video of me performing the field sobriety test on skates . . . on stage. I sped off while he was on the ground laughing.
A smoker taking a mint is like using a garden hose on an atomic bomb.
I saw a 5-piece luggage set that cost $500. $500!? If I’m going to spend that much money on luggage, it better come with a porter.
A month ago, the casting director of America’s Got Talent discovered me, after she searched YouTube for a roller skating comedy act. Per her request, I submitted this video for her to pitch me to the executives who subsequently invited me for a private audition. I will be in L.A. February 11 to perform for them in person. I’ll keep you updated.
I attended a Doctors without Borders convention, because I thought that it would be a great way to meet my ideal guy. It didn’t go so well. It turned out the gathering was for Men without Boundaries.
The snoring is driving me crazy!! It’s so difficult to sleep. I will have to get a nasal strip or CPAP.
People ask me why I don’t use material from famous comedians. I’d rather be poor and original than a rich copycat.
When I’m talking with a guy, it makes me uncomfortable to watch him play with his facial hair. I don’t play with my underarm hair.
When I’m door knocking, I frequently hear, “I don’t live here.” I’m selling books, not solar panels!
A man who weighed 270 pounds, 260 of which was fat, told me that he had three black belts in martial arts. Two were for holding up his pants.
While lost in the desert, a man drank his urine to survive. He said, “It wasn’t bad. It tasted just like beer.”
The flooding in Miami, Florida, is making the city look like Venice, Italy. The drug traffickers are using gondolas.
white lie + white lie + white lie + . . . = compulsive liar
I know I had a busy week when my hamper has only two undies.
Someone bored me by quoting the book of Genesis, stating that since Lot’s wife wrongly looked back at her luxurious life in Sodom, God turned her into a pillar of salt. Did Lot then use his wife to preserve meat? At least she would have been useful. And why salt? If God really wanted to be helpful, he would have just turned her into a refrigerator. Now that’s martyrdom.
A female meteorologist said that she will host an unveiling of her Christmas tree. Judging by how she dresses, the tree won’t be all that she reveals.
When Boy George met Arnold Schwarzenegger the first day of shooting Celebrity Apprentice, George asked, “Do you really want to hurt me? Do you really want to make me cry?”
I met a senior who told me he plays softball and that he started when he was in the Navy. I said, “You must have lost a lot of softballs to the ocean.” He said, “Not at all. We were in a submarine.”
As in football, life should have a 2-minute warning to give you the opportunity to go all out. What would your Hail Mary be? Or, would you be content with what you accomplished to just kneel until the time ran out?
I said to a man, “You’re black. You have that going against you.” Fortunately he knew I was referring to heart disease risk.
If I ever own a company that manufactures kitty litter, I’m going to make it out of quick sand.
I’m surprised that classical music is still played at weddings. The music should be representative of the union. I recommend “Sunday Bloody Sunday,” “Another One Bites the Dust,” “Girlfriend in a Coma,” “Better Man,” “Breaking the Chains,” “Lost Cause,” “Somebody’s Baby,” “She’s Gone,” “Miserable,” “Got You Where I Want You.”
If people can feel when their blood sugar is low, then why can’t they sense when their IQ is low?
In life we come upon road blocks. That’s why I own a truck.
Did you know that hand gestures are associated with Ebonics? I didn’t either. I was skating near basketball players, waving my hand to the music, when I suddenly found myself dodging basketballs. I guess I gestured something offensive. So, I went right into hip hop dancing to demonstrate “I come in peace.”
I saw a tall, morbidly obese man wearing a shirt that said, “I’m hard to kidnap.” So funny! But, it should have said, “I’m hard to revive.”
Are you all dressed as dogs, today, so that I will massage you? My costume is as simple as having cash in my bra and is titled endowment.
At a health fair I stopped at a table where a woman was providing mental illness education. The voices in my head told me to take the brochure on schizophrenia.
Each stage of my life I’ve received certain invitations. When I was a child, I received birthday party invitations, in college—study group invites, in my 20s—wedding invitations, 30s—baby showers, 40s—one-night stands. In my 50s, I will probably receive invitations for support groups.
I met a man and his little dog that did tricks. Over and over he told his dog to spin, but it didn’t. I said, “I’m a dog whisperer, and your dog wants me to tell you, ‘You spin, asshole.’”
It’s frustrating when an item I really like is discontinued. Instead, these should be discontinued:
- Bad drivers
- Family drama
- Hot flashes
- Murky tap water
- Jokes that bomb
- DMV lines
I would love to hand a mortgage check to a bank teller, and have her say, “I’m sorry. That loan has been discontinued.” SCORE!
When I die I don’t want to go to heaven, because I’m afraid of heights. But, I do enjoy skydiving.
This Thanksgiving is the last time that Obama will be able to pardon a turkey. Maybe this year it will be Hillary Clinton.
Are we having another fire, or is it the onslaught of politicians blowing smoke?
In addition to desires, we all have unintentional bucket lists. Here is an excerpt of mine: Have my purse stolen. Check, check. Get rear-ended. Check. Get fired for stealing money that I saw someone else take. Check. Be blacklisted while earning my dietetics degree. Check. Get kicked out of somewhere for roller skating. Check, check, check, check . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Hands Gallery in San Luis Obispo, California, is now carrying “The Every Excuse in the Book Book.” It’s a really cute shop. Check it out. www.handsgallery.com
Paso Robles Daily News printed an article, yesterday, that I wrote about customer service and my new book. Read here.