Grown Woman + Wine + Procrastinating = A Cautionary Tale

Remember that blog contest I nagged you to vote for me in a month or so back? Well, I didn’t win. Which didn’t bother me, until I learned that I lost that bastard to a can of Smokey Mountain Snuff named, surprisingly enough, Mr. Snuff. (I was wrong; it wasn’t Skoal. Close enough.) But the whole experience got the rusty cogs in my brain a’turning. Maybe what this blog needs is a mascot. You know, to spruce the place up a bit until I finally decide on a general design scheme for the constantly-impending aesthetic overhaul. (Damn you, lifelong battle with indecision! DAMN YOU!) So I hosted some open auditions, and these were the mascots that showed up.

Introducing Patty Pad and Paula Plug. Apparently, someone told them they were auditioning for supporting roles on The Real Gilligan’s Island. What’s worse, they both showed up completely wasted, as evidenced by their half-mast eyes and decorative tropical drinks. Nonetheless, they sure know how to party like it’s 1953. And I respect that in a tampon. I mean mascot. Moments after this photo was taken, Paula spilled her Mai Tai all over Patty; as luck would have it, not one red drop hit the table! Hmmmm.



Now presenting, Mr. Knock-Off Facial Scrub! He feels the way I do about public speaking, as you can see. Poor guy. Should have told him about the brown pants. But I do enjoy his red cowboy hat. ‘A’ for effort, Mr. Scrub. However, you do look a little slutty all sprawled out like that. You can get up now, and please clean up after yourself. Don’t call us, we’ll call you.



Everyone loves a wedding, and look who’ve shown up fresh from their own! Meet Mr. and Mrs. Tootskin. They’ve overcome long odds to get here, beginning with the backlash their families and friends dealt them against interspecies dog chew dating. After all, Billy Jean Bullystick was a cow tootyacker in a former life, and Reggie Rawhide is made from the skin of pigs. No one thought they’d get together, but here they are, making it work and happy as clams. I mean bull peni and pork flesh. Wishing you the best of luck as you settle into your new life of wedded bliss and evading Daisy’s digestive system.

Possible blog mascots that showed up yet refused to be photographed: Arby’s “black forest” deli meat, two tubes of candy lipstick, a dried-out yellow highlighter, and a promotional pen embossed with the name of our credit union.