Category Archives: Click Bait

Weaponized Plaid

To survive winter in the northern climes takes a certain kind of person.

A person who has gumption or the savvy to survive the extremes of cold, sleet, and never-ending snow.

Why am I writing about this on a day where the temperature hit the 60s in March for the first time in my memory? Blame it on the heat stroke of not knowing how to dress when the calendar calls for layers—preferably in plaid.

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Plaid is the survivalist go-to weather fabric of choice. (This fact totally made up in my head.) But I think there is truth in this fiction.

We Midwesterners have adopted the Absolute Zero Protocol which states that winter can only be survived by the immediate application of weaponized plaid!

[Or possibly by drinking Absolut or Strong Zero.]

During particularly bleak winters, people can become creative about their plaid-related activities.

At an undisclosed location in the U.P. (Upper Peninsula to you non-Michigan folks) there is an unusual holiday: PLAIDURDAY. It is celebrated the first Friday in October and is an excuse to go out in all your plaid attire and do good works or just celebrate the joy of the multi-colored woven wonder that is plaid! Check out the events page on Facebook: Plaidurday.

There is also a similar celebration a little closer to home in Cedar Springs, MI. The Red Flannel Festival celebrated its 85th year in 2024 and shows no signs of stopping. Much like the snow we enjoy every year. We can overlook that the gathering isn’t technically one of plaid aficionados, because enough red plaid is worn to make it a plaid-happy event nonetheless.

You might argue that both of these events precede the actual arrival of snow to the state. This is true. But, I would argue, we need to build up our reserves of amusement so that we can survive the coming snow. Which brings me to a lovely find.

I was trying to find a nice picture of a man in a kilt shoveling snow—preferably with a gaggle of woman holding up signs giving Olympic scores for form in a stiff wind—when I saw this.

[2025 Update: the original link stopped working and some new upgrade is messing with the embed function. Enjoy this saucy photo instead.]

Apparently there are several variations of these kilted cheesecake calendars. But it was the comments I found under one version that really had me giggling:

Peter gave 1.0 out of 5 stars  saying: Not a real calendar

Reviewed in the United States on January 19, 2025

“This doesn’t open like a normal calendar but like a book. Useless. Same guy on multiple pages…”

Poor Peter…was he actually hoping the hunky slab o’ Scotsman pin-up had a functional purpose?

Reviewed in Canada on January 12, 2025

“It was a gift, but recipient was disappointed that it was a small sized calendar.”

Apparently, even with calendars, size matters.

With a little precaution, you too can survive several months of inhospitable, sleet-filled, icy coated weather that closes school faster than you can say “Snow Day!”

However you handle the madness that is yet one more snowfall or even an unseasonably warm spell in March, please celebrate responsibly.

And just remember, when in doubt, pile on another layer of plaid and hope that spring is around the corner.

Borrowed from Gordon Brandie in hopes he can forgive his stown SnowLad!

A Killer Promotion

If you stop by for a visit this week and think, “Ugh. What is that stench? It smells like something died in here.”

You would be right.

And, for future reference, please bookmark this page in case the question of my sanity ever arises in court. I may need defense witnesses.

You can mark this Exhibit A.

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The first Monday back to school after the holidays means that I am highly motivated to tackle a lot of undone, or never started, What Was I Thinking? projects.

I have a list.

…In my head.

None of them get tackled. Except one. The least necessary and at best, or maybe at worst, the creepiest example of how my mind works.

In an effort to recycle and save money, it seemed like a good idea to try and create my own bird feeder suet cakes. In my freezer are baggies upon baggies of saved skin. You know, just in case.

I thought, “Why not just grind up the skins leftover from chicken and turn them into bird feeder cakes?”

I’ll tell you why. Beyond the ethics of promoting bird feeder cannibalism, I mean.

If you dump a few months worth of skin into a blender and forget to add any liquid, you will wrap that rubbery flesh around the small blades that are the propellers at the base of your blender. Your blender will make a wheezing noise and you will then belatedly add liquid and create the most repulsive slurry of pulverized bird bits plus fat imaginable. Then, as you keep pressing the “Chop” and “Ice Crush” options alternately trying to free the blockage, you smell a rank, sickening odor emerge from the depths of hell. Smoke rises from the blender base. The scent of burnt plastic mixes with the souls of the damned. This noxious stench will fill your nostrils and your house for hours! You will move the blender base to the garage–this will have no effect on how your kitchen smells.

As you spoon up the slurry and mix it with melted fat and bird seed–and try not to vomit at the sight and sensation of skin slurry sticking to your fingers–you might try to imagine a product that might be capable of what you were asking the poor Oster blender to do.

Of note: the Oster people never promised its blender could dispose of a corpse using a ‘pulverize bone’ setting. No they did not. I’m sure that is spelled out somewhere in the fine print. Meanwhile, I am wrist deep in goo and regretting my A.D.D. impulse of the day. My mind wanders…

“I wonder,” my brain says to me, “if this is how serial killers end up using lye or bleach to dissolve bodies? Or, maybe there is a blender out there that does the job…just nobody puts that on the label?”

Can you just imagine someone confessing to a bunch of homicides and then offering to provide a testimonial for Ginsu knives because of the extraordinary sharpness in handling those pesky joint ligaments? Or how about a cleaning product that does double duty–disappearing a corpse or cleaning up a crime scene…before the police get to it? Even if it does a fantastic job for the murderer–who would buy a product hawked by a killer?

Buy OJ Simpson branded gloves–They Never Fit and Always Acquit!

There is probably a good reason market research rarely quotes serial killers’ opinions of their products. Maybe it’s blocked by trademarked copyright? Or maybe it’s that pesky rule preventing convicted criminals from profiting from their crimes? Only their lawyers know for sure.

If there is a super-powered Bone-Breaker 10,000 body crunching, wonder blender out there, the deranged killers are taking that secret to the grave…where body parts are left to feed wildlife the way nature intended.

Apparently, I should have used my Cuisinart.

Of note, this is the second blender I have killed doing something idiotic it wasn’t intended for. I can’t recall offhand how my previous blender met the appliance grim reaper, but I’m sure no one in their right mind expects modern appliances to double as tools of body dismemberment. It so lacks the personal touch.

…..

You Read This Far Bonus:

Happy Deathmas

In conversation with my mother recently, the subject of what she would like for Christmas this year came up. Thus begins the weirdest new way to celebrate the season.

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Trigger Warning: If you have recently lost a loved one and are grieving, I am sorry for your loss. However, this post is very much not intended for you. Unless you need someone to hate. Please, grieve responsibly. Thank you.

“Hey, Mom! Would you like a gift card to Meijer or just some cold hard cash you can use anywhere?” (I’m all about the sentiment of the holiday, dontcha know.)

“Actually, I need a DNR sign for my house. In case I die, I don’t want anybody trying to resuscitate me. It happened to the neighbor and afterward, she just didn’t come back the same.”

“Uh…well what if you fall and die when you aren’t at home? Wouldn’t a bracelet or something on you be better?”

[It only occurs to me later that a tattoo across the forehead would be exceptionally noticeable.]

“I’m already wearing my fall alert monitor. But, since I don’t wear it outside the house, I suppose I could do that.”

From mom’s tone, I can tell she’s still thinking of a sign for her door–or maybe a doormat? Something that reads “Grim Reaper Welcome?”

So many options, but I found this beauty on Zazzle!

It turns out there is a wide variety of I HEART DEATH related merchandise available after Halloween at murderously slashed prices. Though some are totally worth paying an exorbitant price for.

I was tempted by this one:

SIMPLY TASTEFUL, THAT IS SO MOM! WonderPrint

Be warned, the two installments of just $22.49 each is buying you a very tiny invitation to death. The above purchase size buys you 40 cm x 60 cm. Which, in American, is about the size of a large mailer envelope.

And then, because I was curious, I looked on Amazon and lo and behold, found this doormat:

Trust Amazon to have something made to order for every occasion.

Immediately after pulling up this Amazon find, the consumer questions popped up making me laugh despite the grim implications.

While we talk, I am searching Amazon for something I can get Mom that speaks to the heart of our conversation without being utterly like buying a toe tag in anticipation.

And then I find this on Amazon:

A gift from the well-intentioned if slightly macabre at heart.

After I send a link and we have a short conversation, we agree. It’s perfect!

In finality, however you celebrate the season, remember, it might be your last. So celebrate it like you really mean it. And make sure your loved ones know you are thinking of them!

And remember, like the song says:

Stolen with much difficulty from: Coins and More!

It is somewhat alarming how many death related things popped up in my search.

Deathmas is real!

I found Deathmas cookies:

Not Just for Halloween Anymore! Credit: Semi-Sweet

And Much Beloved Christmas Stories Perverted for the Goth Child in all of us:

T’WAS THE NIGHT BEFORE DEATHMAS…

Amazon is all about self-affirmation of people’s right to approach death with the blackest of humor possible.

I call this find Death Granny Epiphanies:

Perhaps this subject matter is too bleak, or in poor taste, for you to find this funny. That’s okay. Maybe you will be reassured that, no matter how hard I tried to find a Death Carol, I failed to locate “Have Yourself a Merry Little Deathmas!” And perhaps that is the happiest news of the day.

Then again, I did find this video:

For which you can be eternally grateful! You’re welcome.

And, I’m sorry.

Scripted Speech and Emotional Hostage Taking

After getting back from taking my son to his favorite place on Earth–sorry, Disney, it’s not you–I stop him at the door to the house and say,“Mommy wants a kiss for taking you to Millenium Park!”

The grudging peck on the cheek I get is accompanied by a shove to get the door open.

Not entirely feeling the love, I ask my son “Who’s the best mom in the world?”

His reply?

“Thank you!” (As if I just complimented him!!)

Having a non-verbal child means he doubles-down on the incommunicative teenager stereotype big time. Scripted speech, like ‘Please’ and ‘Thank-you’ which he practices repeatedly, usually suffice for daily living. But, every once in a while, a mom wants a little validation.

“Who’s the best mom in the world?” I repeat as I unlock the door. And then I answer my own question, “Mommy is!”

My son ignores me, brushes past and demands “Laundry” so we can wash his toy Lightning McQueen stuffies and blanket.

Sigh. Ignored again.

It’s just another day in autism paradise.

Angry Birds – Swan Lake Edition

The story I am about to relate is entirely true. I have no proof beyond a few still photos and a panicked ‘before’ video. Now that I am home and pond scum-free, I’m not even sure I believe it happened. You be the judge.

🦢🦢🦢🦢🦢🦢🦢

Continue reading Angry Birds – Swan Lake Edition

Breaking Bed

It’s TACO TUESDAY every day with my son’s foldable, soft mattress from Talsma’s Furniture.

Just over four years ago, Talsma Furniture sold me a Serta RestoKraft mattress with a five-year warranty. Apparently that warranty only holds true if your mattress has no stains. The fact that my son’s mattress can be folded like a soft taco is immaterial.

I’m vexed, miffed, and annoyed. And I have a blog.

If you want to give me an early birthday present–please share this as frequently and violently as most people share their political rants in an election year. Let the stuffing fly!


#SertaWarrantyFail

#RestoCrap

#TalsmaFurniture

Another Woman’s Life

I like to go to secondhand stores–places like Goodwill, Mel Trotters, Changing Thymes–this gives me a chance to browse other people’s discarded treasures.

I sometimes post my finds to Facebook–things I find especially funny or ugly or both. But I recently went to a Goodwill depot to dumpster dive and I found something I have never seen before–another woman’s life up for sale. As I write this, I am uncertain of how much I will be allowed to tell you. So, this may turn out to be a bit like the hugely disappointing reveal of Al Capone’s Vault by Geraldo Rivera–a whole lot of nothing wrapped with a pretty bow.

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Continue reading Another Woman’s Life

To Max in Sarasota, Florida at AT&T

Around this time every year, I go through an annual event which involves dramatics and hysterics in equal measure–negotiating my contract for a better rate on my internet and tv services. Warning, to anyone who does not know me, this story involves cursing–and not just the witch with a cauldron kind.

There’s a lot of swearing. A f*ck-ton, if you will.

Proceed with caution.

Continue reading To Max in Sarasota, Florida at AT&T

What Happens Among the Sheets…

My sheets attacked while I was sleeping. I thought we had resolved our difficulties and reached an accord. But, I was wrong. So very, very wrong.

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Continue reading What Happens Among the Sheets…

Nothing Going Wrong, Please Stand By

I like to describe myself as a humor writer. Someone who looks at the chaos of life around me and finds the funny in it. But, there is something about life in Covid lockdown that suggests I am actually a disaster-seeking opportunist. You be the judge.

Continue reading Nothing Going Wrong, Please Stand By