A few questions I wouldn’t mind receiving answers to on this fine Sunday morning:

Why, dammit, must my dog insist on sleeping with his ass in my nose every damn night?

And why, dammit, am I too stupid not to remember this as I give him his rawhide treat which gives him terrible gas?

Why does taking your children to an amusement park empty out your wallet faster than a tire deflating after running over a nail? (Which, yes I did this week too.)

Why, when flying through the air in a completely unsafe ride that you loved as a teenager, only makes you feel nauseous and worried about the safety of your children, who are also flying through the air with you?

Why, instead of capturing the glory of my fleeting youth at said amusement park I walked away aged, half crippled, broke, dizzy, exhausted and decidedly unyouthful?

And perhaps the biggest question of the day, why, when I see a tattoo parlor must I make an appointment to get inked again, knowing full well my darling husband is going to FUCKING kill me when he finds out?

Chew on these fine questions, dear internet, while you enjoy the cheese I present to you.

Cleaning out the aviary at a run-down zoo, the the zoo keeper finds two finches that have dropped dead from old age. He picks them up and places them in a sack. After cleaning the cage he puts the sack in his wheelbarrow and moves on to the next cage.

When he reaches the primate cage he finds two chimps who have also died of natural causes. “Waste not, want not” he says as he puts them in the sack with the finches.

Later at feeding time, he flips the dead animals in the sack, into the lions’ cage.

“Bloody hell” roars the lion…”Not finch and chimps again!”

My husband hopped his way home this morning, bringing with him a basket full of goodies. Inside this basket was a cup of my very favorite coffee from the nearest Tim Horton’s, a slightly toasted blueberry bagel with strawberry cream cheese, and a brand spanking new digital slr camera, complete with lens and all the toys.

I love my Easter bunny.

Unfortunately, his bunny didn’t think to buy an Easter present for her husband. She was too busy shopping at the last minute to fill her kiddies baskets while stuffing her face with an assortment of chocolate moose turds.

I will just have to thank my bunny by doing what rabbits do best. Fornicate. Happily. While staring at my shiny new camera.

However, being the thoughtful blogger I am, I did not forget my internet buddies. For you, I have found the finest cheese and I am here to serve it in a big shiny Easter basket.

Enjoy!

Whaddya get if you pour boiling water down a rabbit hole?
Hot cross bunnies.

It took me thirty minutes to get connected to Blogger this morning. Either my antiquated dial-up connection is overloaded, or my brain is still fuzzed by the large amount of tequila consumed Friday night in a rebellious I-am-more-than-a-mom-I-am-woman-hear-me-roar moment.

Oh, I roared. And now I whimper. Still. 36 hours later.

Was it worth it? Hell yes. I was able to see a whole different side of my closest cousin, and she is some wicked fun. Heavy emphasis on wicked.

To celebrate my first EVER tequila shooter (sad, it only took me 31 years to discover that particular pleasure), I proudly offer you this gourmet fromage.

Enjoy it with a dash of salt and be sure to suck on a lemon after. It will help to choke it down…

An enterprising journalist decided to get the scoop of the day by photographing the fearsome phantom that lived in the spooky old mansion house at the edge of town.

When he entered the house, armed with only his camera, the ghost descended upon him, moaning and wailing and clanking chains.

“I mean no harm; I just want your photograph,” the journalist said bravely.

Pleased at this chance to make headlines, the ghost posed for a number of shots, and the happy journalist rushed back to his darkroom and began developing the photos.

Unfortunately, they turned out to be so underexposed that nothing could be seen in them.

He was distraught, and went to a local pub to drown his sorrows. Meeting his friends there, they asked what was wrong. Not wanting to tell the whole story, he simply explained with a single sentence: ……

“The spirit was willing, but the flash was weak.”