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June, 2009:

How To Create Your Twitter Handle in Two Easy Steps

Jun 29th, 2009
by Margaret.
47 comments

So this spammer person on Twitter with the very legitimate sounding name of Fulton604 started following me. Like a trenchcoat-wearing dark alley hoodlum who says, “Psst! Hey, buddy” kind of following me. Fulton604 is following 1,299 people, but only has 67 followers. I wonder what that means.

Actually, it makes me want to change my name to Plexus437. It sounds so cool. Like an alien space ship / area code mashup. Or, HEY - I know. This will be a new thing like

How To Create Your Twitter Handle in Two Easy Steps:

1. Take the make or model of your first car.
2. Guess how many Jelly Bellies are in this Elvis portrait:

Put the two together and you’ve got your next Twitter handle! Mine would be Datsun18. No wait! Datsun19.

Fulton604’s last tweet wants to know if I’m an older guy looking for a hot girl to take out and treat me right.

Why, yes. Yes I am. How did you know? Was it my masculine first name that made you think I was male? Was it all my twitter messages about adult diapers and cryogenic head preserving that clued you in to the fact that I’m “older”? And who isn’t looking for a hot girl? You are SO smart. You’re my hero, Fulton604. I wish I was just. like. you.

Then Fulton604 broke my heart. When I checked his Twitter page a couple days later, it was gone. GONE! I panicked. Where was I going to find “easyurl” hot girls now? I hyperventilated as I felt my new twitter buddy slip right out of my hands. I cried. I sobbed. I bawled.

Then I got this email:

 

Whew! I thought I’d lost him. And Velva? Yeah, that doesn’t sound sexual or anything.

Follow Me on Twitter Follow me on Twitter!

 

See also: Need Help With Your Twitter Bio? Actually That Wasn’t a Question.

 

 

 

Goat Thing of The Day

 

(seen at the Surfing Goat Dairy on Maui)

Teh Keyboard HAtes Me, But What Cn I Do Abou Tit?

Jun 25th, 2009
by Margaret.
36 comments

I have a drinking problem. No wait - that’s not it. It’s a typing problem. My “the”s always come out “teh” and I keep losing Ts to the subsequent word, like when I’m trying to say “about it” or “thought it”, it always comes out like this:

abou tit
though tit

What IS that, a Freudian slip? What is my obsession with tits? Oh sure I’ll catch one now and again and correct it <— including this one right here.

So if you are a blogger and I’ve left a “tit” on your blog somewhere in the comments section, I’d like to apologize right here and now.

Yeah, I’ve probably dropped some “tits” everywhere. How embarrassing, the thought of leaving them stranded like that out in the blogosphere. I’ve been typing since high school, when I had a typing class - boy THAT class sucked big you-know-whats. The teacher was awful. Here’s how awful she was: It was a TYPING class and the VALEDICTORIAN of our class couldn’t get an A out of her, virtually smudging his perfect 4.0 (except we had these things called AP classes whose grades counted one point higher than a normal class, and I’m sure he got As in those and thereby graduated with more than a 4.0, which should theoretically be impossible, but since when does any school district run on logic?)

So this “tit” thing. Does it somehow imply that I’m a sex addict, like Russell Brand? Or Bill Clinton? Or, whatever the female equivalent of that would be? Samantha Jones, I suppose.

Or maybe it’s less disturbing than that and I’m merely dyslexic. Because I also often type “your” as “yoru”, and you’ll also notice that my “tits” are actually formed by swapping the “t” and the space, right? Right?

Hey, did you hear the one about the dyslexic who walked into a bra?

So anyway, with my previous post eluding to Megan Fox’s upper quadrant and now this, one might think my blog has taken on a new theme. That’s right - It’s Boobs Week at Nanny Goats in Panties. Tune in next week when we’ll hear Nanny Goats say: “So I was in Stockholm the other day with Olga, the Traveling Bra…”

All right, this ends our show for today, thank you for coming. Exit doors are on the right. Also, for the men, we have forehead-dabbing cloths on the tables out in the hallway to help you recover from all this “tit talk”. For those needing further assistance, you will find cold shower accomodations down the hall - just follow the signs. Please leave in an orderly fashion and you may now turn your cell phones back on. And don’t forget to stop at the gift shop counter on your way out for your free key chain or whatever crap they’re giving away out there.

Ta ta! (or is that Tatas?) Sorry, okay, I’m really done with that now.

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Goat Thing of The Day

One of my blogbuds, Cheri, of Insignificant Ramblings was at the Sequoia Zoo, up in Eureka, California, where the goats have issues. Like this guy, who thinks he is a flamingo.

Or a drumstick.

Necklace? What Necklace?

Jun 22nd, 2009
by Margaret.
50 comments

Entertainment Weekly has this page called “News Style & Notes Hunter” where readers allegedly see some fashion item on a celebrity and then write in asking where they can get the same thing. Because people can’t dress themselves without emailing a magazine inquiring about fashion and then waiting 3-6 months for a reply, at which point said fashion advice is no doubt, no longer fashionable. But I’m veering off the road here.

A woman wanted to know where she could get the necklace that Megan Fox wore in the Transformers sequel.

 
(click to enlarge - all right, i know how that sounds, but it’s not like i said ‘click to augment’)

OK, the last thing I’m going to notice here is her silly necklace. Am I right, people?

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Goat Thing of The Day

I’d like to thank DG of Diary of a Mad Bathroom for sending this one into NGIP…

 
(what is that, a backpack?)
Now if only I knew which website this came from so I could properly credit it….Hmmmmmmm…. I don’t suppose any of you know? Oh never mind, I’ll figure it out later, after I’ve located my garage.

We Have No Waiting (Or a Sense of Humor) at Checkstand #1

Jun 18th, 2009
by Margaret.
41 comments

So I’m at the 15 Items or Less line in the grocery store. Safeway to be exact. Checkstand #2 to be even more exact. I realize I’m standing behind my neighbor. He’s an old guy who I’ve seen several times around the neighborhood who always seems a little out of it and every time we meet, he has this glazed look on his face like he has no idea who the hell I am. So I decide not to embarass myself in front of everyone around me by saying hello and re-introducing myself for the umpteenth time only to be followed by little or no awkward conversation. And when I say he’s my neighbor, I mean that he LIVES NEXT DOOR TO ME and if he can’t be bothered to remember me, I can’t be bothered to be remembered.

He’s unloading his basket. And unloading. And unloading. I’m about to start counting his items to see if he’s over 15 (because I’m impatient and bored, and I needed to be needlessly riled up), but before I could count past three or so items, some lady with the telltale green apron and name tag says to me, “I can take you over here on Checkstand #1. So I  saunter over to Checkstand #1.

Mid-saunter, I brush up against a tall stack of Entenmann‘s chocolate cakes, setting some of them askew. The man who has followed me to the newly opened Checkstand #1, wearing a business suit, helps me to straighten them out. I figure, we’ve worked together now, I should say something. Being the comedian I think I am, I say something like, “Boy, I almost went over the 15 item limit there - ha ha ha!”

He didn’t even acknowledge it. All I could hear were the crickets as I waited for the belly laughter from my audience of one. My invisible Critic From Hell swooped over and enveloped me with his black cape of comedy doom. Oh the horrors!

I suddenly felt very lonely as I was transported back to my youth and remembered when the self-labeled “cool kids” looked down their noses at me to make me feel like dirt, whenever I tried to be funny. They’d toss their perfectly feathered hair away from me as if I were some crass idiot. The snobs.

My freshman English teacher chastised me on paper when I wrote a silly essay, trying to turn a dull assignment into something fun. I was taught at an early age that writing is not fun. It is a chore to be taken very, very seriously. This isn’t a creative writing class, young lady.

So anyway this guy in the grocery store…it bugs me that this guy helps me with the boxes, leading me to believe that it was socially acceptable to speak to him, and then nothing? NOTHING? What the hell?

I walk out to the parking lot and drive home trying to figure out what went wrong:

Did he think I was some crazy lady who talks to strangers and would be waiting for him outside to ask him for money?

Did he not get the joke?

Did I misinterpret his trying to help me and instead it was just that he’s really anal and he couldn’t stand seeing the cake boxes askew and had to fix them immediately?

Maybe he didn’t even hear me, but was afraid to ask me what I said because then I might get all familiar on him and try to accost him outside for money. And what’s his problem always worrying about storefront panhandlers, anyway?

Or maybe the Grocery Karma God in the Sky was getting back at me for not saying hello to my neighbor. In fact I’m a total hypocrite for complaining about the guy behind me not working with me, when I can’t even say hello to a guy I share part of a roof with.

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Goat Thing of The Day
Thanks, June!
In Other News…

My book review for The Brightest Moon of the Century by Christopher Meeks has been published on Curled Up With a Good Book. You can read it HERE if you wish.

Thank You Letter(s)

A big THANK YOU to Sherry of My Loonyverse for these two beauties!

Well, I Never!

Jun 13th, 2009
by Margaret.
Comments are off for this post

A wise man once said, “Some things are done. And some things have things done to them. But you can never please all of the people all of the time”.

I learned that from my cross-eyed uncle when I was six years old and I never forgot it. I’d have it tattooed on my caboose if I didn’t think it was such a stupid idea to do so.

But that’s not why I called you here today. No, today, I’d like to share with you a list of things that I’ve never done in my forty-three years of life:

I have never murdered anyone. (At least not over money - I do have standards.)

I have been to Jerusalem, the capitol of many religions, but I’ve never been to Washington DC, the capitol of many Americans.

I have never seen a single episode of Survivor. Or American Idol. Or Law and Order.

I have never seen a ghost, a UFO, Big Foot, or a Chupacabra. (What am I doing wrong, exactly?)

I’ve been to Grand Cayman, but I’ve never been to the Grand Canyon.

I have never given birth to a child. (An ostrich maybe, but I was young and I needed the money!)

I have never kissed a girl (not that there’s anything wrong with it.)

I’ve eaten brains and I’ve eaten alligator, but I’ve never eaten a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup.

I’ve never broken a single bone in my body. (But I did acquire my first scar through an injury that occurred eight minutes after I was born. To give you a hint, this was before they put mittens on newborns, and I scratched the crap out of my face. Wait, that wasn’t much of a hint, was it.)

Lastly, and you probably saw this one coming:

I’ve been to Paradise, but I’ve never been to Me.

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Goat Thing of The Day

Do you have erectile dysfunction? I’m sorry to hear that and I have nothing for you, but what I do have is the solution for all that tall grass you may be suffering from. If you don’t own a lawn mower, why don’t you just RENT one?

 
picture lifted stolen “borrowed” from Rent-A-Ruminant

That’s right, at Rent-A-Ruminant, you can rest easy knowing a bunch of goats are chowing down on your back forty.

Thank You Letter(s)

A big bleating THANK YOU to Anna of I Hate Pink who recently awarded me the Kreativ Blogger Award, not to be outdone, or corrected by, the Outstanding Speller Award, which I did not gett.

Also? I would like to thank Preston of Me and the Blue Skies for Appreciating Nanny Goats in Panties with lots of linky love. Thanks, Preston, you credit report dot com guy crushin’ on thing, you. Preston is currently celebrating his 1 year blogging anniversary (or as some blog nerds call it, Blogiversary) by running a Big Sampler Box Giveaway (I think the official name is “Out of the Box Sampler”). Click HERE to enter.
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