Fourth funniest blog on the web

A beautiful, healing cannibalism story of love and life and laughter

Dear Readers,

My daughter ate her own rib meat.

There, I said it.

Yes, she’s a cannibal. I don’t know if cannibalism is illegal, and I’m too scared to search it on the internet. If anything should alarm law enforcement, it’s people researching the legality and logistics of cannibalism.

***Before we go any further, please agree that if my daughter ever runs for president or decides on any kind of future where cannibalism is frowned upon, you never read this story. You will say: “What rib meat? I don’t know any cannibals! But if I did know a cannibal, I would surely give her my vote!”  Thank you.***

Back to the rib meat.

“Why did she eat her rib meat?” Valid question. Because it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

“Speaking of once-in-a-lifetime, is she still alive?” Yes, thank you for asking. She’s healthy and happy.

“How did she eat her own rib meat?” Longer story.

She had to have her top right rib, the small one under the collar bone, surgically removed because of a rare condition called Paget–Schroetter disease.

“There’s a rib under the collar bone? Yes, who knew!?! Unless, of course, you are in the medical field or remember high school biology. Experienced cannibals may also have some anatomical knowledge.

“Why did she have the rib removed?” One of her main veins was kinked between her top rib and collar bone, so one of the bones had to go. The kink caused blood clots (deep vein thrombosis) in her collar bone area last fall. It was kind of a big deal.

“I’m a hypochondriac and think I might have Paget–Schroetter disease. What are the symptoms?” Is one of your arms swollen from the shoulder down? Is your hand or arm blue from a lack of oxygen? Or has it been blue recently? You probably have this rare condition. Go to the emergency room!

“What if I just slept on it wrong?” That’s what I said, along with “eat less salt.” Rookie mistakes! Go to the ER.

“I forgot the point of this blog.” She ate the meat on her rib.

“Oh yeah, that’s kinda gross.” Is it? I mean, it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

“Super weird.” Maybe you have a point. But what did the doctor think she was going to do with it when they let her keep it? It was almost as if they were condoning this.

“Was it raw???” No, that’s where I drew the line. It would’ve been cooler to eat the raw meat (because if you’re gonna do it…), but the rib was at room temperature in salt water for 3 days so we had to cook it. (That’s me! Ignoring my daughter’s blue arm but concerned about food safety for a 3-day old, possibly putrid human rib.)

“Why did you keep it? Why did you clean it? Didn’t the hospital do that?” She wants to make a necklace out of the rib, but, shockingly, spending hundreds of thousands of dollars in medical bills does not buy you a squeaky clean, pearly white rib. It buys you a meaty rib floating in bloody liquid in a pee cup.

“How did you know how to clean it? Have you done this before?” Alaska Fish and Wildlife Commission recommends boiling fragile bones for a short time (in their section on human bones, jk, elk bones). And then I pretended it was a pork rib and went from there. After boiling the rib for about 20 minutes, we scraped off the meat. That’s when she ate a tiny piece before I could even stop her. (I was not going to stop her because BLOG MATERIAL.) But even if I were a better mother…it happened so fast.

And then I soaked the bone in hydrogen peroxide for a few hours. Now it’s beautiful! She can make a necklace, or use it as a dainty utensil to spread goat cheese on crackers. She actually did this just to freak out some neighbors.

“Wow, just wow.” I know. She’s amazing.

rib from Paget–Schroetter disease

This human rib can be used as a utensil! Or a necklace! We take recycling seriously. Hey, the Native Americans did this with buffalo bones, and everyone is all Dances with Wolves.

*Thank the Lord for a happy ending to this story. And for real, don’t ignore a blue and/or swollen limb. While rare, this condition happens more often in youngsters who develop their shoulder muscles, like athletes in volleyball, baseball, softball, or swimming. She wasn’t in any pain at all, so we didn’t realize how serious it was. On Web MD, I skimmed right past the “go to the hospital immediately” section because that never applies to us. Urgent care sent us to the emergency room, where she literally skipped in with her backpack on. One of the nurses described her as “bebopping in with deep vein thrombosis.”

And remember, you agreed to forget about the rib meat thing in case this story becomes inconvenient. “My daughter” could be code for “my dog.”

The 4th funniest blog on the web!

The worst app for teens and what you can do about it

Dear Readers,

I have a new hobby, and you should try it too: trolling for the betterment of society. It all started when I read this article about social media sites from a teen’s perspective. He says the app Yik Yak is super popular among college kids. I’m in marketing and wanted to learn more about Yik Yak’s appeal, so I downloaded it. Users on Yik Yak anonymously post “yaks,” and everyone within a 10-mile radius can read and interact with each other’s yaks. It’s popular because students can yak about professors, tests and parties without revealing their identities or exact locations. Cool, huh?


Except it wasn’t cool in my area. There’s no college campus within 10 miles of me, so the Yak population in my radius is made up of high schoolers and a few university kids home on break. Over the winter holidays, I read yaks like, “The worst thing about being home from school is your dealer isn’t here.”

Some posts bubbled over with teenage angst, but 98% were vulgar commentaries on sex or requests for drugs. And a few local delinquents made fun of their moms in a mean way, which irritated me on a whole other level. I generally like the teens in my tight-knit community — most are great kids — so the Yik Yak feed shocked and disappointed me. I can’t post most of the stuff I read, but this is a sample of some of the tame posts:

sample yaks

A few of the nicer yaks in my radius.


So I’m doing what I was born to do — ruin it for everyone. Just like Gen X and older contaminated Facebook with posts on kids, charities, and weight loss strategies (truly annoying) — making it uncool for younger generations — I am determined to spoil Yik Yak for all the area punks by filling it with old people posts.

But there’s a catch: users can vote yaks up or down, and if your total gets down to -5, your yak is removed. (You can also vote once for your own yaks and reply to yourself anonymously.) So if you post something, it has to be somewhat appealing, or you have to have some compadres vote it up for you. My strategy was to yak boring mom content with curse words to make it edgy. (I took out some of the letters for the blog because my Grandmother reads this.)

This was my first yak:
“Pansies from Calloway’s are the best! And save your receipts, ’cause that sh*t’s guaranteed!” Some yakkers thought it was funny, and some were annoyed. But my vote total was positive. Success!

Then I posted this:
“Looking for new crockpot recipes, c*cksuckers. Watchu got?”  7 up votes, that’s what. Success again!

So then my husband joined in. We cracked ourselves up and laughed for hours creating fake posts about Viagra, non-iron dress shirts, HGTV, casseroles, frequent flier miles, dieting, menopause, oil prices, vasectomies, minivans, antacids, and more. And then neighbors got in on the action too, so we have a whole contingent of middle-aged yakkers in our area. It’s a legit grass roots counterculture movement!

“HGTV is the sh*t. Fixer Upper kicks a**. If it’s House Hunters, that sh*t better be International.”

“D*mn frequent flyer miles don’t go as far as they used to. Platinum status hardly means anything anymore. WTF!”

“Up vote if you like the Moment of Nature on CBS’s Sunday Morning Show.”

And I like to post as an elderly woman with poor spelling:
“The company that made this foot warmer said it would help my bursitis. Bunch of liars! My toes are still swellt up.” (That one got voted down and removed within an hour. Bummer. Apparently bursitis and the word “swellt” are very off-putting to teenagers.)

“My Grandson just ate a hole can of Pickled Beets!”  This one got some up votes (thanks, neighbors!) and replies from teens like, “Get off. Just get off.”

We didn’t let up:
“Have to stop at 3 different grocery stores in this town to get all the sh*t I like.”

“Non-iron dress shirts are the sh*t. Hang up hot out of the dryer, and those b*tches stay perfect!”
And many, many more.

Now the young druggies are getting uncomfortable:
“I am so confused why there are so many older people on this yak, [sic] no one wants to hear about how your kids have practice or that you take Viagra.”

“This app is made specifically for college age students… Most people older than that on here just make this areas [sic] YikYak [sic] a little awkward.”

And the plan is working!
“I’m probably one of the last college kids here and without us yik yak [sic] posts are from old people and high schoolers, lame.”

Lame! We made it lame! 10 miles down, thousands more to go. Ridin’ the Yak is super fun!


The 4th funniest blog on the web!

7 Fake Reasons You Need Stuff from Home Depot or Lowes

At Home Depot or Lowes

Me: “Excuse me, where can I find the _______?”

Helpful store employee: “What do you need it for?”

Me: Thinking that’s a nosy question, but I answer anyway.
“I’m building/fixing/planting/painting/poisoning ­­­_______.”

(Overly) helpful store employee: “Why do you want that product?
Have you considered ______ instead?”

Me: Annoyed, because no one should question the hours of Internet research I’ve devoted to solving this problem.

Yes, this is me with work gloves, a glass of wine and a power drill.

Yes, this is me with work gloves, a glass of wine and a power drill. It was a lovely evening.

My dad HATES to be asked what he’s working on. He’s a construction and mechanic expert who does not need advice. Plus, he considers it an invasion of privacy when someone asks him what he’s building. Is the part in stock or not, buddy?

We came up with a list of ridiculous projects to claim we’re working on the next time a store employee asks. Feel free to use these responses for yourself.

“Why do you need that part?”

1. Give your best crazy eye and exclaim, “Oh, we’re GOING to Mars!”

2. “My dolphins need a bigger cage.”

“You mean aquarium?” 

“No, a cage.”

3. “Umm…have you heard of the book 50 Shades of Grey? I’m building that room.”

4. “Ghost trap. I need a ghost trap — in a hurry.” Be sure to look panicked and use spooky hand gestures with this one.

5. “I’m building a pan to hold the WORLD’S LARGEST FLAN!!!”

6. “My butt has a crack in it.”

7. “I’m a producer for the new reality show Oops! You’re Dead!

The 4th funniest blog on the web!

Your Clothing Identity

***Here’s an update from my last blog post, where I freaked out a woman I don’t know by recognizing her as the owner of a yellow submarine belt buckle she had worn two months earlier and matching her to a lost set of keys with a yellow submarine keychain: Two days after the night at the movies, I had something to return to that very customer service department where she worked. My husband was with me, and we joked about how funny it would be for me to go up to the counter and tell her in an intense, serious voice, “I blogged about you last night.” Thank goodness for all of us that she wasn’t there that day.***

The submarine belt buckle reminded me of the somewhat questionable clothing I’ve recently worn.

Me, in a bright green blouse and purple coat, ready for a party: How do I look? Is it too colorful?

Andy: Uhhh… good. Kinda like the Joker, but in a good way.

How is that good? Do I need to change?

Andy: It’s the Joker’s colors. Just like if I had on all black you’d say I looked like Batman.

No. No, I wouldn’t say that.

My husband and my best friend both criticize my clothing choices on a regular basis, but as long as they hurl creative insults, I’m okay with it. I recently brought home a fitted leopard print dress. I was a little unsure about what to wear to a special event, and I thought it was a safe move. Wait… I thought a full-body animal print was safe? Gosh, there’s a strong possibility I have horrible taste.

Do you like this dress?

Andy: Mmm, no. You look like a New Jersey mob wife. It fits well, but it’s too much. What’s with that gold chain on the neck? Is that part of the dress?

Yes, it’s part of the dress. This is a nice brand. You really don’t like it? Would you be embarrassed to be seen with me?

Yeah, I would. You look like a cougar at a Holiday Inn bar. I don’t like it at all.

What??? The Holiday Inn bar? I don’t even get the Hilton?

No, not the Hilton. This is definitely more of a Holiday Inn look.

My friend, who came over later to give an opinion: Mmm, I don’t know. Are those the shoes you would wear with it? (pointing to the black bootie heels I had out)

Yes… (slipping shoes on so she could get the full effect)

(snickering turning to outright laughter) You look like Stifler’s Mom.

Stifler's mom from the American Pie movies

Regarding Stifler’s mom from the American Pie movies: It’s not what I was going for.

So that was a solid no on the leopard print dress with extraneous gold chains.

A couple of weeks later these two told me that my new scarf looked like a Bill Cosby sweater. They advised that wearing the scarf and matching hat sent me over the edge into African Diplomat territory, but the scarf on its own was acceptable because Bill Cosby sweaters are still in the midst of a comeback. It was a risk I was willing to take. I looked Cosby-tastic on my recent trip to NYC and got preferred parking at several United Nations sites.

Check out these Bill Cosby sweater cookies:

Bill Cosby sweater cookies

You know you’ve reached the pinnacle of pop culture success when you’ve been embodied in sugar cookie form. Photo from

What odd trinkets/ belt buckles/ scarves/ general weird clothing are you a fan of right now? Do you receive any entertaining insults?

In other words, how will I know what set of keys to match you up with? You probably need to read my last post for this to make any sense whatsoever.



The 4th funniest blog on the web!

Sherlock Holmes Sometimes Freaks People Out (or the Night I Turned Into a Creeper)

I went to the movies and saw Les Miserables last night. Have you seen it yet? I love the debates about it flying around the internet. It’s more fun when we debate Les Mis, Shades of Gray, Twilight, and Elf on the Shelf instead of politics, guns, and sports, although I think people get equally worked up about all those subjects. (Have you ever hung out with a Twi-hard?) Overall I liked Les Mis, but I got distracted halfway through by an astonishing coincidence. Here’s what happened:

It was already dark when some friends and I got out of the car to go into the theater, but a set of keys on the ground in the parking lot caught my eye. I picked them up and looked around; the owner was nowhere in sight. The keychain had a yellow submarine on it. In the back of my mind I knew I had recently seen another yellow submarine, but I couldn’t pinpoint it. Hmm. I turned the keys in at the theater desk hoping that the owner was in the movies and not at one of the several surrounding restaurants or shops.

Once we were settled with our popcorn and drinks, I recognized one of the people sitting in front of me. She works in customer service at a store I frequent. She’s easy to remember because she has a very alternative look, but there was no reason for her to know me so I didn’t say hello.

Halfway through the movie, it dawned on me. The last place I saw a yellow submarine (besides on the keychain) was on this woman’s belt buckle when she helped me in customer service about two months earlier. I just knew that the keys had to be hers. I couldn’t concentrate on the movie anymore because 1) Marius sounded like a frog (in the movie), and 2) I could not wait to tell this chick that I found her keys that she probably didn’t even know were missing.

So, as soon as the good part of the credits were over, I tapped her on the shoulder and asked if she happened to be missing her keys. She replied, “Do they have a yellow submarine keychain?”

YES! Oh my gosh! Yes, they do!

Excited and breathless, I told her how I found them in the parking lot and I recognized her from the store and I knew she had a yellow submarine belt buckle so I figured they were hers and OH MY… She started to get a really creeped out look on her face.

I tried to pretend like this wasn’t weird by joking that everyone should have matching keys and belts so we’d know whose stuff belonged to who, but it didn’t help. Then I started explaining how amazing this was. Frankly, I expected her to be a little more in awe of the coincidence and my sharp observational skills. However, she pretty much mumbled thanks, looked at me like I was a stalker, and then promptly got up to get her keys from the front desk. I wonder if she suspected foul play. There I thought I was used by God to make her day better, and she thought I was sent from Satan to freak her out.

On the way out of the theater, I explained the whole story to my friends who had only witnessed part of the conversation, and they were appropriately amazed. THANK GOODNESS they were because I was gonna be really disappointed if nobody thought this was remarkable. They laughed about how she must have thought I was so weird, but the whole situation was a series of cool coincidences. I found the keys, the owner happened to be sitting right in front of me in in the same movie in a huge theater/restaurant/shopping complex, I recognized her, and I remembered she had a yellow submarine belt buckle.

Tell me that’s not cool. Oh, and I’d like to go by Sherlock from now on. (Have you seen that new show Elementary about Sherlock Holmes? It’s a fun show! I highly recommend.) But I’m actually not like Sherlock at all. I read Les Mis the book, listened to the soundtrack repeatedly in college, saw the play, and still couldn’t remember the story. It was all new to me. In my defense, I’ve read several books by French and English authors about Paris; it’s like a French prostitute stew up in that part of my brain. And I think I’ll end with that statement.

The 4th funniest blog on the web!
Page 1 of 1312345...10...Last »
Tall Curly Biscuit and the Annals of Whizdumb: The 4th funniest blog on the web!