Oooo, had a bit of a shaky situation here in Goddessville last night.

Because Grandpa Goddess stays with us from time to time and because his heart is a tad shaky, he bought a personal defibrillator and left it here for when he visits. Well, last night he started clutching his chest and we tried to use the defib on him but it wouldn’t work. Mr. G yelled, “Somebody removed the damn batteries!” I’m like, “Ooooh yeah. I used the batteries in my Pocket Rocket.”
My buddy Schwartz proposed this question this week. I want to see what Mike’s readers
think. Imagine a conveyor belt of a very long length, on that conveyor belt sits
the Good Year Blimp. On an equally long conveyor belt next to that sits Mike South. Keeping in mind that Goddess’ web site bill is due and that South is my web host, which do you think contains the most hot air? (I do know the answer.)
I read with interest–because I have nothing BETTER to do since I‘m stuck in this trailer, South!!–the story of the woman who is suing her husband because he secretly divorced her two years prior. What a catch he was. Some of the things included in their prenup were: she had to cook breakfast four times a week, he had to agree not to wake her up on her “off” days, he had to pay $5 each time he complained and he had to give her a backrub three times a week. Ya know, it’s so hard to believe that marriage didn’t make it, isn’t it? It had such a promising start…
Although Mr. G and I don’t have a prenup–nothing from nothing leaves nothing–I do have a parental agreement with all of my offspring. It goes thusly: “Unless I’m breastfeeding you, you’re on your own.” Oooo lookie. Not even noon, and already I’ve experienced multiple sarcasms.
So this is what it feels like to be discriminated against. The creators of this year’s Superbowl show are asking for “YOUNG dancers only–no one over the age of 45” to come onstage and dance to the Rolling Stones at half time. Pretty doggone funny since Mick and Keith are hardly spring chickens themselves. The reasons cited for needing “young’ dancers? You have to be able “to stand for long stretches of time“ and “run onto Ford Field with 2000 other people,” things we know people over 45 absolutely cannot do. If my legs weren’t so weak from sitting in my Hoveround all day, I’d kick those Superbowl folks right in their collective ass.
I know South was giving you guys Thanksgiving recipes, so I guess I should give you a favorite breakfast recipe or you‘ll feel I can‘t get with the program. Here’s one the offspring love when I make my special breakfasts. “Empty packet of Quaker oatmeal into bowl. Add ½ cup boiling water. Stir.” Sure it’s time consuming, but well worth seeing their little smiles of joy. I have a great Kraft Macaroni and Cheese recipe for those who want to email me for it.
Did you read about the 10 year old boy in Berlin who police found pedaling his toy car along a highway at night? Seems he was “driving” to grandma’s. IMHO, the mother of that child was very negligent. That would never happen to one of my offspring. They’re all too fat nd lazy to pedal.
Is it my imagination or does Jack Abramoff look like a young Lyle Waggoner? At least the croooks are getting better looking. Nothing I hate worse than having to watch a high profile unattractive person get prosecuted.
A guy in Kansas City called a pizza place and ordered three pizzas, then gave the driver a fake addy so he could rob him of the food. Unfortunately the idiot gave his correct home phone number when he ordered the pizzas and cops were easily able to trace him to his apartment. When they arrived he was surrounded by pizza crusts. At least he was smart enough to hurry up and eat the pizza before the cops arrived to haul his calorie laden ass off to jail…
A friend of mine who is into everything healthy told me I should be taking coconut oil. He suggested taking it with raw honey. If you’ve never tasted coconut oil, it’s like eating slightly firmer Crisco. I tried melting it, but that’s like drinking melted Crisco. I didn’t have any raw honey, but I managed to choke it down with a pound of chocolate. Damn. I feel healthier already.
Ok, I need to help the offspring work on their science project. It’s called “how far do we have to push Mom before her blood pressure shoots sky high and she has stroke?” My guess is they’re almost ready to write their final conclusions…