Elise Sereni Patkotak

My Blondie had dental surgery recently because A. she’s old and her teeth are showing it and B. I am a bad mother who did not notice how extra rancid her breath was smelling until things were in pretty sad shape.

So she’s home now and has been on pain pills and looks fairly at ease. For some reason, this led me to think that I should look in her mouth to make sure all looked ok at the sites where teeth had been extracted and/or worked on.

So as she slumbered in pain pill heaven, I reached down and

The war in Afghanistan has been going on for 9 years. Last month was one of the bloodiest for US casualties. Bin Ladin is still at large. The Taliban is still a potent force for hate. The Afghani government is so corrupt you can smell the stench over the smell emanating from the Gulf oil spill. But the headlines in the paper are about the one year anniversary of Michael Jackson’s death.

Really?

For the past six months I kept hearing about some kid named Justin Beaver who was supposed to be such a teen wonder and could not figure out why, when I googled him, nothing came up. Turns out his last name is not Beaver.

Well, that’s as much energy as I have to put into this particular issue today. Maybe next week I’ll figure out how to actually spell his last name and by August come up with the enthusiasm to google him again.

Who the hell keeps responding to those e-mails addressed to “My Dear Companion in God” from Nigeria? Someone must because they keep sending them out. But seriously, who the hell would still be responding after this many years of knowing it’s a scam. Are there really that many dumb people out there? Because if there are, then a lot of my questions about how this world got itself into such a mess have been answered.

You know you’re dreading the rapidly approaching political season when contemplating America’s increasing girth is preferable to dwelling on the upcoming campaigns and those fun polls that ask if you would still vote for Candidate A if you knew he was a cannibal… not that there is any evidence he or she is, but just asking.

It seems that after many years of searching for the one small area in the back of the store near the restroom where plus size clothes were usually displayed, these clothes may soon be going mainstream.

Growing up, my clothes came from a store

Remember when we didn’t share everything with everybody. When you mother taught you that some things were simply no one’s business outside the family. When your sex life, your food life, your social life and your sleeping partners were not considered standard fare for online conversations with the immediate world.

Remember when we didn’t know what the shaved vaginas of drunken movie starlets without underwear looked like. Remember when we didn’t need to know our favorite star’s kinky sexual preferences. Remember when you didn’t need to shave your private parts to wear a bathing suit. Remember when your private parts

There is an ad running on about every other Internet page I go to in which a blue box flashes obnoxiously for so long as you are on the page and the words, You Are A Winner” also flash with enough rapidity to cause me to worry I will have a seizure from it.

So just in case anyone out there cares, you should know that the minutes that ad appears I dump the page and go anywhere else I can that does NOT have that obnoxious ad running.

Actually, I’m assuming it would be a tree were it not for the thorough trimming it gets each year from the moose who camp on my lawn all winter. But despite that, it has apparently put out a purple flower. A birch flower. I thought something had gotten into the middle of the bush and started growing but my savvy neighbor Harry brought me a picture from the Internet showing a birch flower.

So the way it goes in my yard, if I pay any attention at all to you, you wither and die or grow long and scraggly. But