If my sister sees this, she is SOOOO gonna kill me. But I covered their faces, and quite amateurishly, I might add. Hey, my incision is infected, I had to take percocet, and I’m NOT an artist. So sue me…..

If anyone ELSE wants to share inadvertently funny family pictures, I think that would be a blast. In fact, I have an ARC of TWISTED SISTER to give away to the person who comes up with the FUNNIEST caption for this one. Oh, and an ARC for the person who sends in their own inadvertently funny family picture.

Let’s play!!! (Click on the picture to view it in larger mode…. If you dare…)

So it seems that I am needing a job, mostly for the insurance, and it’s not all that fun to try to find one that wants to work around my weird writing schedule.

I’ve considered all manner of jobs, really. I’m not a snob. But I have to tell you that there are a FEW jobs that I do NOT want, and I’ll tell you why. And THEN I’m going to tag a bunch of people and play that annoying blog game that means THEY have to tell ME what ten annoying jobs THEY don’t want….

He he.

1. Banana Peel guy in front of Verizon Wireless. Boy, that was not an attractive costume. I watched the poor guy try to hit on a cute young thing walking into the store, and she blew him off like he was some sort of fruit…..

2. Advance Ad Man doing Crazy Dance for Snow Shack. I had NO real idea what to call this guy. But that dance.. whooowhie. Not cute. And his sign was really small, so for a minute I thought he was having a seizure or something and I was about to stop and do CPR. I had to slow down to make sure he didn’t need medical attention, and then I noticed he was wearing skater clothes (anyone who has a teen knows what “skater” clothes are) and so I then thought maybe he was advertising a new skate park. Not so. Good luck, Crazy Dance Guy.

3. Little Caesar’s Little Caesar. What is UP with all the dancing, costumed jobs out there? Huh? The one I saw was so dirty I would expect the wearer would need to be fumigated at the end of each shift. And YES, I am sensing a trend here. Natalie does NOT care to stand on street corners, costumed, shaking her bootie. As ample as that bootie may be.

4. Pizza Hut Delivery Driver. I saw a sign that says they make $13 bucks an hour, but I’m directionally challenged, and I see big issues with my delivery skills. Plus, everytime I put food in my car and try to get from point A to point B, some of it ends up on the seats or the floor.

5. Telemarketer. Hell no. Nuff said.

6. Mormon Church Spokeperson. I don’t think this one even needs an explanation, does it?

7. Any job that includes cleaning public toilets. I worked security at an athletic club for a while, and I’m telling you… How do you miss? Just HOW? I don’t get it.

8. Any sort of politician. I don’t want my children to have to hide in fear for the rest of their lives. I mean, COME ON. Have you SEEN those tabloid pictures of Jenna Bush? The girl gets a bit chubby, and the media goes freaking nuts.

9. Fact checker. I am not really sure what this job entails, but just the NAME puts me to sleep….

10. Britney Spears’s Public Relations person. The girl is a walking nightmare, ya’all. So, there you have it.

Considered yourself “tagged!” Come on Sideon, JulieAnn, Cele, Wanker, Sister Mary Lisa, and all you other regulars. Play along…. If you do, tomorrow I shall show you the most hilarious photo accidentally every taken. And by my sister, no less……

So, the ward party FLIERS were printed up WITHOUT the address of the ward party!! In keeping with the furtive actions of ward partiers all over Utah, my parents’ ward decided to KEEP the location secret from all heathens. There goes that whole, “Neighborhood Party” theory.

How did I discover this faux pas? Well, about fifteen minutes ago the DOORBELL RANG. Guess who it was? You would guess hometeachers? “Ward Party,” I would say. You would guess visiting teachers (like home teachers, only female)? “Ward Party,” I would say. Boy Scouts? Ward party! Primary president? WARD PARTY!!

Oh no. It was THE MISSIONARIES. I’m telling you, things are REALLY interesting up here at the ‘rents house. “Is Brother Collins here?’ asked the head missionary, because there is always a head one. Come on, you know I’m right.

“Uh, no, he’s at the ward party.”

Well, maybe I should have said NEIGHBORHOOD party, because this young man’s face looked like someone had just stole his slinky and threw it in the river. I mean, HE knows the secret handshakes, and he wears the magic underwear, and NO ONE TOLD HIM ABOUT THE PARTY. And he’s a missionary, and everyone KNOWS they are ALL about the free food!

“Well, do you know where it is?” he asked me.

So I ambled upstairs to get the flier, and came back down, only to discover THERE IS NO ADDRESS on the flier!

“Maybe you should just drive around. It’s probably at the church. I’m sure you can find it.”

So there you have it. THE PLOT THICKENS. And all of this without percocet.

mission.wav (Please click here. Please. Please. I promise, it will heighten the experience.)

Elder LaMar: You got the potato chips?

Elder LaVar: Yup, you got the hot dogs?

Elder BRayGeorge: Yes, do you have the mustard and ketchup?

Elder PhilFrank: I thought it was my job to get the hot dogs!

President CarlEddie: So we have lots of hot dogs. I brought the burgers.

Bishop S.: Okay, slap some of that meat on the grill, and.. HEY… ELDER LAVAR! I thought I told you to HIDE THOSE BOOKS OF MORMON and ward schedules! This is a neighborhood party, not a WARD PARTY! You put that shit…. er stuff… out in plain sight, they are going to CATCH ON!

Elder LaVar: Sorry Bishop. I’ll hide them over here behind the green jello. Did someone remember the Kool-aid?

Bishop S.: That was Wayne’s job, but he’s having that Trapped Intervention tonight. We’ll have to do without. Now remember. What is our Mantra?

All: Nonmembers are friends, not prospects for baptism. Nonmembers are friends, not fresh meat, er, prospects for baptism.

Bishop S.: Okay, let’ s do it.

Narrator’s Voice: This has been another percocet inspired post by Natalie R. Collins, who is going to be REALLY peeved if the Mission Impossible wav doesn’t work….

Soooo, Jesus Solorio, who was one of the top ten finalists on SO YOU THINK YOU CAN DANCE, came into the laundromat tonight and was helping me straighten up. He’s such a nice young man. And of course, he sensed I was rattled, because this was immediately after I had the shootout with the other, not-so-nice young hispanic man who wanted to drive my trailer away. He won.

You just can’t argue with a Smith and Wesson, you know.

I still like the percocet better than the vicodin (hey, it was Jesus Solorio vs. Joseph Smith. I’m going with Jesus).

Wow, after going back and reading what I’ve written, I realize that if you didn’t know better, you would think it was JE-SUS vs. Joseph Smith, and we could go back and rehash all that Merry Smithmas business.

Some of you may be wondering why the heck I was dreaming about Jesus Solorio, while I think the OBVIOUS question is WHY THE HECK AM I DREAMING ABOUT JOSEPH SMITH?

I’ve actually met Jesus. My Dancing Daughter is in a routine he choreographed for our studio, and he’s a real sweetheart. As opposed to Joseph Smith, who is dead. But he had more than a few sweethearts, I hear…

And personally, I understand the Joseph Smith dreams. I am temporarily living BACK with my parents, and they sorta idolize Joseph Smith, so there are more than a few pictures of him around here.

The most amusing “Saint” sighting though, as far as I am concerned, is a tiny cutout picture of JESUS on the cupboards in my mom’s laundry room. Not JAY-SUS Solorio, but THE JESUS, brought to you by the imagination of the white people of America, of course, since no one knows what he really looked like.

It’s just a picture from a magazine, and I’m not sure if he’s the patron saint of the laundry or what. My mother is NOT Catholic, so I doubt she would get that patron saint stuff anyway. So, when I started thinking about Jesus helping with laundry, I remembered all that folderoll about Jesus Toast. Remember that? You don’t? You haven’t LIVED until Jesus has showed up on your toast. So guess what? I found this VERY funny site that shows people how to make your OWN PERSONAL JESUS TOAST.

Afterward, you can try and sell it on eBay.

Here’s a few more random ramblings, because it’s 2:42 a.m., and I’m awake but a bit loopy, feeling like ca ca.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Bishop S. showed up at my door, and we had our “discussion,” he asked me if it would be all right if they invited us to “Neighborhood parties,” and just left us alone for Church stuff. “Well, SURE,” I stupidly said.

So, now that I am residing with my parents, I have made a few discoveries. Neighborhood Parties is CODE for WARD PARTY. Really. I promise. I have no idea if this is some Churchwide thingie, but my dad had these fliers for their “ward party.” He kept talking about the “ward party.” Then he handed me the flier, and it said “NEIGHBORHOOD PARTY” right at the top.

So, of course, an entire discussion evolved, courtesy of moi, about how it is deceptive to call these Neighborhood Parties, when in fact they are WARD PARTIES. And so my parents said that they call them Neighborhood Parties, because they ARE neighborhood parties. Anyone is invited, and if they didn’t call them what they call them, the non-Mormons would not want to come. “So why don’t you just tell them the truth?”

“Well, we don’t want them to feel excluded.”

“But, this is deceptive. You are not really having a neighborhood party. You are having a WARD PARTY.”

This further evolved into a discussion about new neighbors, and about how wouldn’t it be nice if you just WALKED UP TO NEW NEIGHBORS and introduced yourself, and didn’t tell them what time the ward meetings are! When you do that, they feel as though there is an ulterior motive (there is).

So then my dad pulled out this miracle drug he is using, CoQ10, and said, “Here.” Nothing else. (This is an object lesson, by the King of Object Lessons, my dad.) So being the smart ass that I am, I picked up the bottle and told him all about it, because, well, HE HAS TOLD ME ALL ABOUT IT. He laughed. And you gotta give him credit for it, since I ruined his entire object lesson, which was, “IF YOU HAVE SOMETHING REALLY WONDERFUL, WOULDN’T YOU WANT THE WHOLE WORLD TO KNOW ABOUT IT?”

At this point, I took it further, and said, “Why don’t you just introduce yourself, and wait until you get to know them before you talk ‘religion.’ Religion is a very personal thing. It’s rude and presumptive to invite someone to your church before you even know if they kill kittens and wail at the moon when it’s full. Or what if, say, they are the descendants of Holocaust victims? Wouldn’t it be nice to share a PERSONAL relationship with a person before you tried to drive-by Baptize them?” (I’m pretty sure I didn’t say that last part. But I can’t be certain.)

Then my DAD pulled this story out of his HAT (I was going to say ass, but that would not be nice, and I like my dad) about a “FAMILY” (unnamed of course) who told the “ward leaders” that they were really upset because NO ONE EVER INVITED THEM TO CHURCH.

At that point, my mother started calling me Miss Percocet and I gave up. Bet you’ll be glad when I’m well, won’t you?