Good Morning. That’s a Nice Tnetennba.

I thought there was an awesome draft somewhere in here but I guess not. You will just have to be satisfied with my current rambling thoughts. This will probably be a disaster, you might want to back away slowly.


I have decided I’m no longer funny. You know why? Because I’m an accountant now. Do you know what is funny about being an accountant? Nothing.  Do you know what is boring about being an account? Everything. Or nothing, depending on your views of job related suicide rates. Maybe this is a really dangerous job and one day I will be felled by an errant paper cut that gets infected with some tropical bird pox I got from touching money.

I guess that would be pretty funny.


If you are wondering where I’ve been lately (when not spectacularily planning to meet Batman. What does one wear to meet THE Batman, anyway? Is it like the Queen? Do I have to curtsey? Is it like that one time when I was 5 and Bryan Mulroney hugged me and I kicked him in the shin and  the police took me away? Hopefully it’s not like that at all) I’ve been on Pinterest. Because I’ve decided to have another wedding. (If you are Matt reading this I totally mean Italian wedding soup. Ignore the rest of this blog)

Apparently Pinterest is a whole website devoted to people finding random things that someone else has made and then motivating them to go out and buy all the thing to make it themselves and then totally not. Or maybe I’ve been using it wrong. I’m pretty sure that’s how it works. I might need to quit, because it is making my house look like a disaster. Also, I’ve wrecked like 5 tshirts. Well, not MY tshirts, but people got angry. Or they will when they figure it out.


Anyone who has ever been married knows that the whole this basically has nothing to do with you and the whole day is going to suck anyway. You might as well get drunk and watch your family member fight it out. So I decided it is high time that everyone can go screw themselves and come get drunk on my dime. Again.

Also, Matt is into it. I mean, I assume that by saying “If that’s want you want, dear.”, with no sarcasm sign what so ever, it means he is super excited about and secretly planning to tie a crap ton of ballons to our house so I can re-enact the start of the movie UP. With less crying and dead spouses though.


Since the last wedding was black and white (We were being original. Shut up, mom.) I wanted this one to be a rainbow. Except you know what rainbow weddings are geared towards? Gay people. Because Gay people don’t want regular weddings, they want a Unicorn with grillz driving a Cadillac across a rainbow as their cake topper and a piniata of a Garden Gnome wearing a peek-a-boo dominatrix outfit at the reception. Nothing says party like hard core lawn fetishists.

I’m kind of offended that internet marketing doesn’t count me in the ‘likes rainbows’ target group. Is it because I’m an accountant now, Internet? Is that why? I say for shame, Sir!


I guess what I am really trying to say is I need someone who knows how to operate a puppet minister and is up for officiating a totally regular rainbow wedding while crouched under a table doing an awesome Muppet voice. I will pass you beer during the ceremony. Or rainbow jello shots. Which ever fits under my dress best.

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  1. Jeneral Insanity Says:

    You should get a midget to sit under your dress at the ceremony. He/She could pass shots to the minister and blow on your lady parts to keep them cool under all of that fabric.
    Unless I’m the only one that thinks there are a re-fucking-dick-u-lus amount of layers to that shit…

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