Saturday, April 1, 2017

FREE ebook today!!

This is a book my son and I wrote together and I would love for you to share it with your kids!

The Superhero-ish Journals of Harv Anderson Snooterbutton.

Please enjoy.

Friday, March 31, 2017


I know, I know, I stole the title from that minion movie, I am scandalous,,, let's move on please.....

I need to start blogging more and I will. I solemnly swear to this.... I stand here, wind blowing my hair back, in a superheroish pose, sparkles littering the world as they fly off my eyelids....

So for all *one* of you still reading my blog.... Here ya go....

Everyday I get up and go to work and everyday I feel I have betrayed my soul. Someone so whimsical and imaginative should not be sitting behind a desk and dealing with the general public. Especially when that general public has a penchant for screaming at you for something you have no control over. Their grumbling over such trivial things is frustrating. I want to scream;

"Eat a Circus Peanut for cripes sake!"

(Little known fact: Circus Peanuts contain the powers of happiness as they are made by the compressed farts of unicorns, dusted with the hopes and dreams of Gerbils and delicately "flipper" shaped by baby harp seals. If you taste a salty aftertaste whilst consuming a Circus Peanut you will have 8 years of whimsy as you have consumed the magical tear of harp seal. You're welcome for the information as this is knowledge that only the super enlightened are privy to)

The other day I got yelled at for sending a refund. A REFUND! This refund was too small to validate the customer's time. Her time is commodity, it should be respected and now she has to spend gas money AND time to take it into her bank (in town) and deposit it. Apparently, calling us and screaming at me about said refund for 20 minutes was a great use of that aforementioned "precious" time, who knew?

I begin to wonder. What would I do with MY time should I ever be financially blessed enough to throw the 10 hour workdays behind me. My mind flutters with happiness in that thought.
My first day would be spent as follows:

I would go to a fabric store. I know exactly what fabric I am looking for; lime green fur. When I find it I will spend the first 10 minutes rubbing it on my face and enjoying the full, floofy factor. I will then take the entire floofaliscious bolt and "try" to pretend it is a light saber by challenging the other less fabulous bolts of fabric to a duel. My bolt is heavier and longer than me so this will not end well, but I could not call myself a true Star Wars fan if not attempted. And as a side note: my sound effects would be "spot on".

I will search for the foam aisle next. It is important that the foam I choose have an appropriate "squish" factor. I have all day so I take my time. Once found I will place the yardage of foam next to my now disheveled bolt of limey, floofy goodness. I will then trot off superfluously for to the "Fluff" section of the store. I am looking for pillow stuffing.

Soon I would discover the perfect fluff to air ratio I return to my other treasured goods.

I gleefully lay the foam down in the aisle measuring just a smidge over 4ft 11' of foam with the tape measure I snatched from the lady behind the counter (Don't worry, I replaced it with a feather boa, she was miffed but stunning). Next I cover the foam with the lime floofy fur and lay the pillow fluffing (still in the bag) at the top of my "fabric store napping extravaganza spot" (or FSNES for short). I deduce that jersey fabric in a watery turquoise blue will make a fine blanket so I retrieve some.

My FSNES is complete!!!

Finally can enjoy the fruits of my labor and I ceremoniously plop down. The plastic of the pillow packet causes my face to stick and sweat but it is worth it because every time I move it lets a little air out and the bag "whistle farts", this amuses me.
Soon the blue aproned, fabric store defenders find me and threaten me with serious action.

I question their authority:

"Why do you not have a fabric covered fabric store police badge?" I ask them.

I call out their ultra-authoritative fabric store shenanigans until the blue lights outside start reflecting on the sparkle section of the store. This casts a rainbow glow on the ceiling and walls.

"I am magical!!" I say loudly "Look around at the sparkling beauty I bestow upon this establishment!!"

They are NOT amused.

I explain to the ACTUAL police that I was trying out the bedding materials as I would be making portable "napping extravaganza spots" (or NES's) for the children of Zimbabawaee as I am a giver. Now I am exalted as a hero and the blue aproned fabric store defenders feel like schlubs having ever questioned my sanity. I advise them vociferously that their merchandise is subpar and leave the store, purchasing nothing, but leaving behind my FSNES for the other shoppers to enjoy (you're welcome).

All I wanted to do is have an exotic "destination" nap in the middle of the day.

Is that so much to ask for a Zimbabawaee humanitarian  icon such as myself? Really?

Depressed by the outcome I go to Wendys and order a large Frosty.

Their machine is down. Their freaking machine is ALWAYS down!! WTF Dave!!!???

It takes hours to get the lime floofy fur remnants out of my hair and off of my clothes and it causes me to chafe in unnatural places.

Still a better day than being at work.

Sunday, February 14, 2016

My First Children's Book is AVALABLE!!! The "Hamster in a Hurricane" post...

I am flabbergasted at the thought of having a book available for purchase! It is only in ebook form and on but will shortly be available on Amazon, Kindle, Nook and Kobu. This is a first step at a dream. We have to take chances and put ourselves out there sometimes. That is something I have ALWAYS done here. I think I even wrote a post one time about manitee poo.... SO, uh,, pretty sure that 's why I am still single!

Well, that and my "Big toe"  thumbs. I am
pretty much unlovable because of those.

Anyway, the hope is to stop being scared and start doing more crazy thangs!!!!

This may or may not include (but not be limited to):

-More lifesized Spam sculptures of men
-Copious amounts of green jello
-Crocheting more rainbow hued scarfs for depraved giraffes
-Licking bus windows
-More tinfoil and sparkled pipe cleaner jewelry choices.

Certainly these things will change my life for the better. I will also do more of my own stunts instead of hiring Angelina Jolie-Pitt as my body double. (I was just trying to help as her career seems to be in a slump but I think she is getting to dependent on the  $2.50 I pay per job.)

Hamster in a Hurricane is a story I have carried with me since 1989 when Hurricane Hugo smacked down on Charleston SC as a Category 5 storm. There were stories of a liitle hamster survivor that intrigued me. This book is dedicated to him (or her).

They handled 160 mph gusts like a boss! And we all have that determination inside, we just have to find it. I am sure Angelina will find hers soon. Poor gal.

Now on!

Sunday, June 21, 2015

Stars from my Dad

My dad wanted to give me the stars. But how would he do that?

We had this conversation when he was in the hospital. I asked him how he always had the moon and stars in his pocket.

He told me his secret.

When I was 2 dad devised a plan. It was a simple orchestrating of actions, by ordinary eyes, but extraordinary if you imagine the forethought of a loving dad. He went to a store and purchased a package of glow in the dark stars. They were left "charging" each day on a bathroom on a shelf or in the lightboxes. Before every outing that included being out at night, he would bring some. If we were out a long time during the day, he would "recharge" them on the dash. When night fell and the moment arose, he would make sure I was looking up at him. He was tall and lean. I knew he could touch the sky, but the stars seemed a tad out of reach, they weren't.

"That one looks close Neene!", he would say as he jumped to grab it from the night air.

"Let me cool it down a bit", softly he blew in his hands acting as if this little star was freshly caught from the heavens.

When he released the star into my care, it was glowing brightly and warm from his loving hands and breath. Every night this happened, I remember feeling as if I held the universe. He would laugh before reminding me of the rules to humane star captures.

"Remember Jannine, we can only hold the stars in our hands for a few moments, they must be sent back, they have been watching over us for millions of years!"

Before the star lost any of it's glow, he would throw it back into the night's care. I would stand there staring at the sky, like a dog being fooled by it's master's "fake ball throw" trick, searching for the newly placed star.

My dad would whistle as I searched, but he would always let me find it.

I put a glow in the dark, plastic star in his casket on the day of his funeral. But I knew it was real and would watch over him in his journey to heaven. I'm pretty sure it's hanging in the heavens now because every once in a while a star winks at me and I hear a familiar whistle.

It's those "little things" that put the stars in our children's eyes.

"A package of plastic stars, imagination and a heart overflowing with love"

 Everyones's definition of being a magnificent father is different.

But that's mine.

Tuesday, December 31, 2013

*TIS's Exclusive interview with Happy, the outspoken star from "Rudolph's Shiny New Year"*


Part One

"Helping Happy Dig Through the Bitterness"

I decided to call Happy, the New Year Baby to see if he would do an interview with me to tell my readers what might be in store for us in 2014.

I hear he has seen it all since his "inception" in 1976.

He agreed!! But only after some of his demands were met.

First he had me extract the pimento from a jumbo jar of green olives. When I asked why I couldn't just buy a jar WITHOUT pimentos, he said because he likes the "residual" pimento flavor that is left after the extraction is complete.

And then I was instructed to add an "e" with edible ink behind ALL of the "M's" from two bags of specially ordered "yellow only" M&M's  (to match his golden locks of course,,,, who knew he was that narcissistic?)!

And then, after that....

Happy came in like,,, wait for it,,, like The Times Square ball!!!

Baby new year

*the crowd giggles and then whispers are heard through the studio*

{{{{those ears, those ears!!}}}}

Me: Good evening Happy!! I am so glad you decided to talk with me in this your busiest of seasons!

Happy: Well, in case you didn't notice,,, Invisible Seductress,,, whom I CAN SEE,,, this is my ONLY season! Because, according to my doctor, I have "failed to thrive". So now,,,, I have a lifelong membership to "Gymboree", "Stride Rite" ~ AND ~ "The Hardcore Vodka of the Month Club" for those days when I can't stop thinking about my life as a 38 year old MAN BABY!

Me: Uh, um,,,, well at least Stride Rite's shoes rock!! With those little bell shoestring keeper things, sooooooo cute...


*Happy stares into the rafters*

Me: Here Happy, have a few specially ordered yellow Me's.

*Happy snort-laughs as I look on awkwardly*

Happy: *screams* EAT ME!!

Me: Ok Happy. I'm glad you found the comedy in that. But seriously, let's talk about 2014 and your Holiday special that is coming on TV in a day or so. Did you know WAY back in 1976 how popular your character would be?

Happy: You mean the special that can ONLY be seen on ABC Family? The one I don't get any royalties from that stars a mega-successful, multi-millionaire, 40 watt reindeer and ME,,, in the role I have been type casted in EVER since??

*Happy drops a handfull of pimento-less green olives in a bottle of Vodka and starts Twerking hard enough to lose his diaper*

Me: Happy do you have an agent that helps with this sort of, um, mess? Never mind, let us move on now. May I ask you some questions please? So what do you see happening in MY love life?

*I scooch to the edge of my seat*

Happy: Aren't you seeing that dancing and talking "Dave the Minion" toy you got for your kid this Christmas?

Me: Maybe. We just met.

Happy: So you broke up with Cleverbot?

Me: He was getting too wordy.

Happy: And I assume that you ALSO have broken it off with the "instant chat" doctor on WebMd ..

Me: He kept asking me about rashes and bowel movements and that's NOT very sexy!

Happy: It is if we're talking about YOURS!!!!

*Happy scooches to the edge of his seat*

Me: Eww

Happy: I see. But you DO realize that Dave is NOT real and he will only ever respond to you in gibberish and then only AFTER you squeeze him in the RIGHT spot or yell at him??

Me: Yes. But aren't ALL guys like that Happy???

Happy: Touche Seductress. Touche...

*Happy burps his ABC's*

Me: I am looking for something REAL for 2014, you know, meaningful and heaven sent.

Happy: Well Seductress, I bring good news!!!! I DO see you in a long term relationship in 2014 with a very dapper gentleman that praises you all the time.

happy baby new year


Happy: Really, really!

Me: That's AWESOME!!!

Happy: And you will work VERY hard at each level of your blossoming relationship, but in the end, you'll find that it is ALL worth it!

*Tears fall down my cheeks as I channel my "inner" Diana Ross and start to hum "Endless Love"*

Happy: He thinks you are sweet AND tasty!!

*I blush*

Happy: You will question if your relationship will last, but with every other move you make, he calls you DIVINE and showers you with favor!!

Me: You are talking about the guy in "Candy Crush" aren't you Happy?

Happy: Yes I am.

Me: You are kind of an asshole Happy!!

Happy: Yes I am.

And this is where the first half of my riveting interview with Happy, the New Year baby concludes as I duct tape him and his freakishly large ears into his Top Hat and let my cat bat him around the room for a bit.

Be sure to tune into part two where we find out which Victoria's Secret model he is rocking through the new year with.

Saturday, November 2, 2013

My birthday is coming up in the next few weeks. I am VERY excited.

Not that I should be tho...

 Financially I am in shambles, I have no beau (Sadly,you can tell how old/lame I am because I just said "Beau". No "cool" person refers to a man as her "Beau"...)!!

 And also..

I already have the kittens for my "crazy cat lady" persona, so I have nothing more to look forward to!

I have also found I have the sudden urge to crochet. This urge is intensified by the belief that every toilet paper roll that is not already on a toilet paper dispensing system needs to be immediately covered/protected by the elements with the grand crochet gown of a generic Barbie wannabe doll!!

FYI,,, toilet paper cozies are a respectable number "2" on my expansive list I call:

#1. The Coveted Toaster Cozy

#2. "Barbie" Toilet Paper Cozy
(Yours is in the mail)

 I must admit however, that I DID imagine my life would be different than it is now in the tail end of my 42nd year of life.

As a child my mind was even more whacked out than it is now. I know that may sound scary but I quite like the fact that I am a textbook example of a whimsically charged sexy beast of ramped insanity (no textbooks were actually referenced in the making of this blog post).

I believed in fairy tales and that Unicorns fart brightly hued bubbles that transform into Skittles and then unite together to grace the earth with double rainbows.

But there was also something even more wonderful that I knew would eventually change my life FOREVER!!

When I was growing up, all of the "B" rated movies included a badly coiffed and painfully clueless kid that finds out on their 13th birthday that they are ACTUALLY a Mermaid??!!

They wake up sprouting iridescent gills and multicolor sprigs of flowing Mermaidian hair et all... The resentment to their parents for keeping the secret comes later,, after their boyfriend dumps them,,, but quickly subsides when they master their powers to become the most popular kid in school( and then they quickly dis their only "true" friend for said popularity).

I loved these movies because at sometime in the movie there is a very dramatic and under utilized "slow clap" scene. When the tempo of the clap gets louder and more rousing than ever expected, I always shed a tear or three.

At age 12 I spent a lot of time dreaming that something of that nature would happen to me. I  prayed that I would wake up with a sprig of seaweed in my hair eluding to the fact that in a other worldly sub state of sleep, a hypnotic, magical adventure was had. I visualized that after my mousy brown hair rapidly turns blond, I fashion and sell enchanted jewelry out of the hundreds of stunning iridescent  Mermaid scales I shed each day and become wealthy beyond my wildest dreams!

Obviously that never happened 
but I started thinking

and thinking

year after year

until I finally figured it out!!


Do you wanna hear about it? 

Of course you do, here I go...

This is the year it WILL finally happen!!

And it is my LAST chance!

Below is the equation that helped me figure the exact time that my transition into an  other worldly creature would commence.

It is 4 decades after my 13th year the year is 2013


X+Bx13 to the 5th power+10-2= Apple Pie filling cooked in a Spam crust!

But also,,,, THIS IS THE YEAR OF MY TRANSFORMATION!! (I think the top ranks of  the higher educated thinking league used the Apple Pie and Spam thing to throw me off. They failed. I'm on to them.)

I surmise that "43" is the year that I will slowly start to become an awe strikingly beautiful, luminescent, sparkling and ever so wise mythical being. You all will be SO proud of the fact that you knew me BEFORE my GRAND transition that you will brag to everyone you meet and friend request me to the point of obsession on My Mythical I WOULD accept your request, but I would also let the Mythical security force know that you are a creepy stalker type so that Cyclops will keep his bulbous eye on you and a Minotaur (who is also madly in love with me) will alert the Centaurs of the need to watch you in your sleep to make sure that you don't dream about me without paying a small fee for that pleasure (FYI, we take MasterCard, Visa and Sephora gift cards as payment).

I will also have contests on my Mythical profile page because I know you all would want to win lunch boxes and coozies adorned with a grandly extravagant yet sweetly humble hi-def images of me and one of my wildly inspirational yet brilliantly vague quotes.

But so far, the only really "foreign" thing that has sprouted is one rogue whisker type hair growth under my chin (that I plucked whilst staring at the sky and cursing the Gods of aging). This makes me feel less sexy than any woman  of my advanced age SHOULD feel (Especially before turning into a mythical creature soon to be lusted over by masses of Mythical creature fetish clubs).

I  have  also started to find sprigs of magical silvery white hair being slowly and expertly mixed into my flowing locks to make the transition gradually (so that my appearance does not garner world wide attention too quickly). My hairdresser says I am growing older and should expect some grey hair to start showing up,,, but she doesn't even believe in Unicorns so her intelligence is obviously lacking refinement.

I have been so perplexed that I had an expert in imagined mythical transformations study that rogue chin whisker.

I just received the results in the form of a 250 page thesis. I was informed that this was NOT merely a rogue whisker at all!!!

The hair,,, under further investigation,,, meant that I was NOT actually transforming into a Mermaid OR a Unicorn OR a Minotaur.....

 I am actually transforming into a seductive Greek Mythological...



I'm OK with that! 

 I'll just have to buy waterproof sparkles!

Saturday, July 6, 2013

I have a disease.

This is a post about a trip I took a few years back. I drove to Savannah. For someone that has really never driven long distances too often this was a doozy. It was only about 5 hours- cake to the normal person- but- I am not normal (you knew that already, right?). I planned the journey. Map-quested the location and painstakingly wrote down every detail about the journey that I could. I made the kids clean the car because it looked like Geoffrey the over excitable Toys-R-Us giraffe threw up on the floor boards,,,, and then we were off. Things went pretty smooth and I was impressed with myself. My lifelong mental disability of being severely directionally impaired only showed its evil head a few times. But I have Mazeophobia. And I have Mazeophobia-BAD!!

This is not just a cool word I made up because I want you to be impressed with my verbal prowess (and yet you STILL are, right?), this is a real phobia, and I are it. Mazeophobia is the fear of getting lost while driving. Basically what happens when I get even the slightest tinge of "lost" I start rapid breathing, then, I do the opposite of normal, (which would be to slow down) I speed up---- because I want to become "found" FASTER!! Uh-huh-makes sense now doesn't it? I become that little girl who got lost in Walmart and is standing at a register crying (the one that gets hugged in the store-then beat in the parking lot). I make sobbing snot-bubbles with sparkle accents look hella sexy. In the song Amazing Grace when "they once were lost and now they are found" --- BEAUTIFUL!!! I'm all teary now!!

But there were only a few times that this happened.

I also cry when I see dead animals on the road. Because it is sad. We saw a dead whitetail deer and my daughter wanted me to turn around on the interstate to drag it to the wooded area and bury it. She did not care that it was HA-uge or that we did not have a shovel-it was the principle of the matter and the deer deserved to be buried. I did agree but still, a 4'11" woman dragging a 5" dear off a four lane highway seemed impossible.

But she said:

"What happened to you?" (in a disgusted judgy way)

"You used to save every animal, and now,, you just ignore it like everybody else!"

"Well, DramaGirl" (lest we NOT forget where she got her nickname from) "I can't really save an animal that is already gone."

Tears flowed...Then we said a prayer for the deer instead of wrangling it.

And then we saw a dairy queen sign and I sold my soul for a dilly bar!

  I went to Tampa recently to take the kids to the Mosi science museum. I was reminded of the severe Mazeophobia I suffer with once again. I'll have to tell you that story another time. It ended with a 6ft  MOSI souvenier pixie stick or "kiddie crack" as I like to call it. Not my best parenting decision but I blame the Mazeophobia and the "off-brand" Spam poisoning. *shivvers*