A response to Lemons. Not the actual fruit, though...stop nitpicking and just read it.

My friend Sam of Sacto Food and Insurance recently posted about a strange tradition his family has involving lemons. Not strange as in we-use-lemon-zest-for-our-human-sacrifices, but more like we're-a-family-of-dorks-that-come-up-with-weird-games-because-we-can-and-because-it's-better-than-zesting-each-other-and-arguing-over-who's-turn-it-is-to-kill-Uncle-Bill.

So, you know. Not strange at all.

And I was going to post a comment about my favorite thing about lemons, but I thought it was blog-worthy because, honestly, I spend too much time reading other people's blogs instead of updating mine and so I should probably just isolate myself from the rest of the world because maybe then I'll actually get something done. Except I'm pretty sure that isolation would mean that I wouldn't even be able to update my blog because the Internet is the world and unless my telepathic blogging powers improve, I still need a laptop and Internet.

Call now to find out about free shipping. But wait, there's more! Call now and we'll throw in a free Crazy Critter!

Sorry. I just got my telepathic blogging confused with the television commercial that I didn't even know I was paying attention to. Wait--does that mean the advertisers are communicating telepathically to me so I can write telepathically to you about Crazy Critters? Touche, dog vacuum cleaner people.

I just had to re-read the beginning of this post because I forgot what I was talking about. Lemons. I was talking about lemons. And human sacrifices. Which pleases the gods way more if they involves lemon zest. I know these things because I watch National Geographic.

In order to understand the awesomeness of lemons, you'll need a hyperactive dog and a lemon. Give said lemon to dog to play with. Watch dog and laugh when her teeth break through the peel and she suddenly realizes that what you gave to her was not a ball, but some sour-tasting ball impostor. Like an alien ball or something. And then laugh some more when she stares at you while licking her lips with that bitter beer look on her face.

But don't leave the room just yet, because soon enough, the dog will smell the lemon. She'll think, maybe it wasn't what created that weird taste. Maybe it was aliens. It's always aliens to your dog if you train it right. And so happy puppy forgets about her first taste of lemon, picks it up, tastes it again, and immediately drops it. And then stares at you with contempt. It's absolutely hilarious to watch, especially if your dog is a little slow and tries to play with the lemon again and again. I'm pretty sure this is like an official dog IQ test.

And if you smell lemons during the middle of the night while you're sleeping, you might want to wake your sleeping ass up and run because your dog is probably very pissed off and may be trying to kill you. But at least her breath smells nice. It's a win for everyone.

Side note: I found this talking cat thing and made it say "If I were you, I wouldn't fall asleep tonight. Just sayin'. I may be a zombie. Or I may just want to eat you because I've always wondered what human flesh tastes like. Either way, I'm feeling a little bite-y today." Except it says it in the Nigel voice and every time I play it, I giggle a lot and I want to show it to Pat, but he's taking a nap right now and I can't send it to him without signing up for a free trial and I'm pretty sure free trials are just made up by companies so they can steal your soul. But the joke's on them because by the end of your life, you've already signed up for a million free trials to get pudding and send murderous talking cats to people, so they really only get a small portion of your soul. And there's nothing you can do with 0.000000005% of a soul, except maybe mash it together with the other small soul pieces you have. And I'm pretty sure that's how monsters are made. So, really, I'm saving us all from monsters by having this talking cat waiting to do his shit on another tab for the past hour (Pat takes long naps), even if it's slowing my computer down. That's sacrifice, y'all. The martyr kind, not the kind with lemon zest.

Side note 2: I just showed the homicidal talking cat to Pat and he just laughed. Not even a lot. But when I told him that waiting for him to get up so I could show it to him, he said "really?!" like I had said that I wanted to season him with lemon zest. But really, I'm saving his life from mashed-up-soul monsters.

Giving Thanks...brought to you by the letter "B"

It's Thanskgiving Day, and while I'm sifting through the insane amounts of "Happy Thanksgiving" posts on Facebook, I thought I'd share in the odd festivities (think about it: today is the day we're supposed to give thanks, but not many do that now because they just want to eat. So instead, we stuff ourselves silly on a meal that took hours and hours and hours to cook and then lay on the couch in a food coma while our bodies digest enough food to make room for dessert. Best. Holiday. Ever). So I present to you: the things I am thankful for...


Friends, family and all that junk. Let's just be honest here. If I didn't put this first, I'd start getting calls from family members because they don't understand how I could possibly be more thankful for farts than them. And then I'd probably end up disowned or something. So let's just get it out of the way.


Cats with extra toes. It's evolution in the making.

The Internet. Because without it, where would we go to learn things? And get our porn?

Farts. Because they're funny and useful for many things--clearing some space in your stomach, ruining touching moments, giving your fiance a dutch oven (hi honey! I love you!) and clearing out a room for some much-needed alone time.

Burps. They're like farts, but from your mouth.

Dogs that fart and burp. One of the best laughs I've ever had was when Luna burped while licking her...um...private area. Just thinking about it makes me feel all giggly.

Rubber band balls. Did I ever tell you that Sir Baron Bouncy Biggles Barnum Baxter Francis III came back? Well, he did. And he's been an asshole ever since, but as long as I can bounce him around on my desk, I'll deal.

Bed. Because it's super awesome and warm.

Turkey basters WITHOUT holes in them. When I was a kid, I was burned by a leaky turkey baster. In the place that would've been my boob if I had any then. Ever since then, I've had a very delicate relationship with basters. As long as they don't have holes in them where they can horribly burn me with hot turkey jizz, I'll give them credit for making turkeys juicy and delicious--that is what they do, right?

Being a college graduate. Thanksgiving sucks when you have midterms or finals to worry about.

Bacon. The 8th-10th wonder of the world. Yeah, that's right. Bacon is so awesome that it's more than one wonder. I mean, is there anything that can't be made better with bacon? No. Even bacon tastes better with bacon.

Smartphones. Recently, Pat and I joined the world of smartphone ownership. So now, not only can we check our twitter on the go, but we have more ways to avoid talking to someone in an awkward situation. Maybe I'm getting an important text message, or maybe I'm just playing Words With Friends. Either way, I'm not paying attention to you.

Beer. For making life more fun.

Boobies. I have them, you want them.

Breakfast served all day. Pat and I never wake up in time for breakfast, but we don't want to miss out on the most important meal of the day. So it's nice when places will give us breakfast, even after all the normal people have already had theirs. No thanks to you, McDonald's.

I don't know if you've noticed, but a lot of awesome things start with "B." So not only is this post like a cornucopia of awesome things that we should all be thankful for, it's like Sesame Street over here now. I'm teaching your children about B and all the fun things it bring. Kids: B is the awesomest letter in the entire alphabet. It'll kick G's ass! Unless it's your grade, and in that case, it's not good enough and you're a disappointment to mommy and daddy.

You Win Again, Windows Update!

I hate Windows update. And you best believe that I'm going to tell you why.

So here I am on my day off, getting into my daily habit of avoiding doing things with the internet. And Windows update, which has been happily downloading in the background while I make sure I'm not missing any super-important updates on Facebook, pops up to tell me I need to restart my laptop to install said updates.


So I delay the update, telling them to remind me in four hours because, surely in four hours, I'll actually be doing something useful instead of looking at bikes I want to buy on the internet.

Well, of course I'm doing something else in four hours. I'm watching a video about Pee-Wee Herman and Footloose. On the internet. And the little reminder pops up again to tell me what a loser I am for spending the past four hours straight getting distracted by random things online while still in my PJs.

I delay it for another hour, knowing that there's things I need to get done and I will most definitely be doing those things before an hour elapses. Right? An hour before I need to leave my laptop alone. That's it. I can do that.

An hour later, I'm reading a blog about giant metal chickens, with another tab open up to YouTube because I'm simultaneously not-really-watching vlogs. And then another tab open to Facebook because, again, I may miss an important update if I don't check it constantly. And I can't forget the tab open to Target because I want new pretty things and I can only afford new pretty things from Target.

And Windows update, that sneaky little bastard, has learned to give me the update notice in the background when I'm so distracted that I don't notice the little flashy symbol on my taskbar and instead continue happily on my interneting spree.

So inevitably, it happens. Windows decides that it's now or never and closes all my browser tabs after a whole afternoon of finding the perfect tab combination.

For at least 30 seconds, I get scared, thinking that my laptop is possessed by that black widow I killed last week and I start to wonder how I'm going to find an appropriate exorcist if I can't get on the internet.

Until I realize that it's been an hour since Windows update last bothered me. I shake my fist in anger as my laptop shuts down and decide to take the forced break from the internet to finally brush my teeth and get dressed.

And now you know how I spent my Friday. I'm happy, but not quite proud, that I'm back on the internet so I can continue reading blogs and checking Facebook and deciding what I'm going to buy at Target. It's important stuff. Somebody has to make sure the internet is still working. And hey, at least I brushed my teeth. 

What I Did on My Summer Vacation (Featuring Justin Bieber!)

For some reason, around this time of the year, I always feel like I'm not doing something that I should be doing. And then I figured it out: I'm not writing my yearly What I Did on Summer Vacation essay!

I know ya'll had to do this as kids, too. Don't lie. And, if you're like me, yours were probably pretty lame and boring. And, of course, I was so obsessed with this essay that during the summer, I'd catalog the things I did and write them out in my head. Yeah. Now you know why I have a blog. Because I was a freak child that wrote stories about talking turkeys named JTT. True story. See, I love you so much that I embarrass myself for your entertainment.

So here it is, the essay we've all been waiting for: What I Did on My Summer Vacation.

My summer vacation is no longer like a vacation. Because I have a big people's job and no more school. So my whole life is kind of like a summer vacation! Except I have to work. Which kind of makes it one of those summer vacations where your parents make you get a job, even though you had planned to spend the entire summer at the lake with your friends. Because we all live near a lake where we hang out with our friends, right? And there's a rope swing there, too, of course.

So my summer began in Los Angeles, where we went to check out the tar pits. Actually, that was last summer, but let's just imagine that it was this summer for the sake of storytelling. Okay? Okay.

So there we were at the La Brea Tar Pits, looking down on all that hot, sticky tar. It was kinda like looking at a pit of hot, bubbling fudge, but more smelly. I decided to find out if it tasted anything like hot fudge, so I climbed over the fence of the biggest pit (you know, the one with the mammoth forever slipping into the tar). As I climbed over, my foot slipped and I fell into the pit, much like Alice fell down the rabbit hole, except this was a hot stinky mess  and I was sure to suffer the fate of that stupid mammoth.

What they don't tell you about the tar pits is that it's actually not tar. No. It looks like it, it smells like it, but it's really just a facade covering up one of the biggest conspiracies known to man.

How's that for a hook?

So I slipped under the tar and landed butt-first on a bouncy castle. I bounced high into the air, doing a backflip before landing on my feet in front of the castle. It was pretty sweet.

Looking around, I quickly discovered what was going on. Computer screens covered the walls, each with a man sitting in front of it, swiveling their chairs back in forth in unison. On each screen was Carson Daly, dotingly looking into the camera. I jumped as the guy to the left of me yelled out. "Aaand...now! Wink wink! Head bob!" A couple of the other guys typed away furiously on their keyboards. "Good job, boys!" This was Bieber Command Central.

"I knew Justin Bieber was a robot! His hair was just too perfect!" I shouted, causing everyone to turn around in their chairs. Blank stares surrounded me as I whipped out my camera to finally get the proof I was seeking.

Too late. The guy nearest to me jumped me, pinning my arms to my sides as we toppled to the ground.
"No one can know!" He shouted.

"Look! Justin Bieber is malfunctioning!" I looked at the screens in mock horror. All chairs turned back the computer as the guy released me and ran to his station. I ran to the nearest exit. I knew it was an exit because the sign above the door said "Exit."

"BIEBER BOT, GO! Get her!!!" The guy yelled as I opened the door. I needed to find a way out before Justin Bieber found me! I heard a loud roar and Carson Daly yell out, "What the--are you okay? Justin?! OMG, he IS a robot!" as the door shut loudly behind me.

After running for what seemed like forever (I knew I should have exercised more), I found a way out of the corridors. I climbed out, only to discover myself in the middle of Disneyland.

"Bieber minions, get her!" A voice shouted. Wait--was that I girl? I looked around to see Justin Bieber pointing at me as millions of prepubescent girls began screaming horrible, ear-piercing screeches as they charged me, fanning themselves with signed pictures of the Bieber Bot himself.

I started running toward the exit, but stopped short. This was Disneyland, ya'll! I wasn't just going to leave. No. I had to beat the Bieber. All I had to do was destroy his hair. That's where all his power lies.

Don't ask me how I know this. I just do. Because I'm magic. Or something.

So I charged through the Bieber maniacs, bouncing between them like a pinball, making my way toward their girly-sounding king as they furiously clawed at me.

I finally made it through. We stood face to face as his minions circled us like a bunch of sharks circling a guy trying to snowboard in the ocean. They knew I was going to drown soon.

"Call them off, Bieber!" I cried.

He laughed a most sinister, robot laugh. I'm sure you know what that sounds like, so I don't need to explain it. "Fine. I'll defeat you by myself! Beliebers, you are released!" All the girls screamed as they broke out of their trance. They looked at Justin Bieber. He winked at them and cocked his head. They all fainted.

"Your tyranny ends now, Bieber!" I yelled, wielding the electric razor that, of course, had been in my pocket all along. He charged at me, jaws opened wider than any human jaws could. I could see all the lights inside his mouth grow larger as he drew nearer. All the pretty lights. There were red, green, orange, blue, and some kind of purple-y yellow that was my favorite. All of a sudden, all I wanted to do was reach inside that mouth and touch those pretty blinky lights....prettttttyy.

I reached out. He was almost close enough to touch. Touch the lights. Be with the lights. Maybe living in Justin Bieber's robot stomach wouldn't be that bad...as long as I had those lights.

"Lisa!" I heard someone yell out. I snapped out of my trance, looking around. Luna was hovering about Bieber's head. And no, I did not find this odd at all. "Use the force!" I nodded and quickly jumped as Bieber charged me, grabbing a bite of my shoe. He looked around confused as I landed behind him.

He turned around, hearing the whirr of the electric razor as I turned it on.

"It ends now, Bieber Bot!" I took a leap into the air toward him, the razor in my outstretched hand. I shaved off the top of his hair. He reached up and touched his new bald spot, looking down at the hair on the ground frantically.

"NOOOO! My power!" He yelled as he fell to the ground, weakened. I took the opportunity to charge him, quickly shaving off the rest of his perfect locks.

"You won't be causing any more prepubescent girls to swoon," I said, shaving the last of his hair off.
I collected the hair and gave it to all the fangirls, but they didn't care anymore because they had already forgot who Justin Bieber was.

Infiltrating VidCon...Just for You!

So all you good followers are probably anxiously awaiting this magnificent blog post I promised you. To that I say, don't you have a life?

Nevertheless, here it is, the reason why we went to LA in the first place. Sure, we went to have fun and explore, but there was a reason that started it all. We just don't pack up and head to LA for no reason.

Look! It's a Tesla Coil! But that's not the point. You see, our trip centered around a visit to VidCon. Yes. VidCon. A blogger went to a YouTube conference. Do you feel betrayed? Because it would be totally awesome if you did.

So why did I, a super-awesome blogger, decide to spend my weekend keeping company with those low-down vloggers?

I honestly don't know. It was Pat's idea, really. I just went along for the ride. I mean, who would willingly spend so much time with nerds like that?

I mean, look at them, with their cameras in the air. Filming. Really?! Filming? Don't they all know that blogging is the wave of the future? Don't they know that only the uber nerds use their cameras to make videos? It's all about the pictures and the words, ya'll.

Why do I keep saying ya'll? Maybe I caught something from one of those YouTubers. Note to self: schedule doctor's appointment to get that checked out.

I really was the life of the party. Everybody wanted to get a picture with the world-famous blogger of Awesome Wordage. Like this famous (if you can call YouTube celebrity fame. Psssh.) girl that got her start from the 'Tubes.

I know you don't recognize her, but that right there is Jessica Rose from LonelyGirl15 "fame." I'm sure you can tell by this picture that I'm all like, "'sup. I'm wearing brown shorts because I'm awesome." And she's all like, "OMG, it's totally that chick that made that blog post about towels!!!!!!1" Because that's exactly what happened. And check the Rockstar product placement, too.  Yeah, I'm totally (not) sponsored.

And then this guy practically attacked me with what is obviously extreme excitement from meeting his favorite person in the world. You know it.

Seriously folks, this place was just a giant nerd fest. I will never understand why people would want to share things about themselves on the internet. Weirdos.

Excuses and Other Fun Things

Why hello, Land of Blog. It's nice to finally see you again. I've been...around. Sorry I haven't called. I lost your number in a freak...boating...accident.....

Ohhhkay. Moving on. I feel like I need to explain why I haven't been posting much lately. And yes, Luna's blogs count because, if you didn't know already, I'm the one who really writes those.

...What? Stop looking at me like I've just told you that Santa Claus doesn't exis--oooh. Oops. I just...well, you looked smar--I mean...I...thought you knew.

Well. This is going well, isn't it?

Okay...I guess the best way to tell you this is to just blurt it out. I....wentonvacationanddidn'ttellyou! I'm so sorry! I was thinking about you the whole time, I swear!

You see, we were getting ready to leave for Los Angeles, and I told Pat, "I should probably let my blog know where we're going so it doesn't worry." You know, because my whole 7 followers would frantically check their blogger dashboard every minute while sobbing uncontrollably because I haven't posted anything new in two weeks. I mean, how dare I abandon you like that, right?

...Heh. You can put the pitchfork and microwave down now. I promise I'll be good from now on. It's all Pat's fault, really, because do you know what he said to that? "Screw 'em! They're just a bunch of no-good dirty nerds anyway! I hate nerds more than I hate people who look like Barbara Walters!" And let me tell y'all, he really despises people who look like Barbara Walters (but he loves Barbara Walters more than ice cream loves fudge, which is a lot. Obviously). It's like some strange form of racism--like BabaWawaism. Or something.

So this is just an update to tell you that there's another, better update coming soon. One with pictures and a real honest-to-God point. I know you're so excited that you might pee your pants, but you're going to have to strap on your Depends because I don't know when this new-and-improved post is coming.

...Don't look at me like that! I'm busy, yo!

Camping!!!!!!!!!!!! By Luna the golden retriever

Hi. Is Luna again. Mom busy with big project for new writing thing, so she make me write about camping. She said I get Kong filled with cookies and peanut butter if I do good job.

Camping fun. Camping mean you go out to the woods and watch mom and dad put together this cloth house with long metal sticks. They call it 'tent.' Then you go play all day and sleep by a big metal round thing with fire while mom and dad drink and talk to friends and be loud and annoy neighbors. Neighbors got mad and told friends the next day that they need be quiet. It was funny. Mom and dad yell at me be quiet all the time.

Me in front of big metal fire thing...or am I fire breathing dog?

And then you sleep in tent and are a little cold, but mom let me sleep under the covers until dad went to bed and kicked me out. Not fair. I was there first. I did all work of warming up the spot.

And then you know what happens? When you wake up, you do it all over again!

Mom and dad got mad at me for getting loose the first day and going swimming without them. They said they thought I was going to swim across the whole lake and never return, but I think they just mad because I got to go swimming without them. I was just getting the stick they left out there because the other dog didn't want to get it! Did they want to just leave it there? No way!

Mom put me on long leash so I not swim across whole lake and let me fetch sticks the next day. It was fun. I never swim in waves before. They fun. Hard to jump over, but fun.

But the day after that, mom and dad took long metal poles out of tent and rolled it up! I did not swim that day, but friends got to. Not fair! Why I no swim? I good at swimming. Is fun. Mom said she didn't want her car smell like wet dog and they already packed away my towel. But I can shake off. I go swimming? I no smell like wet dog.

Swimming without Lucy is fun. Lucy steals balls and hides them. Lucy doesn't like it when I jump in pool. She thinks all balls are hers. Lucy still fun. I like Lucy.

But maybe now I like camping more? I dunno. Camping fun. Lucy fun. Swimming fun. I like fun. I go camping again? Swimming?

I do good job? I get Kong now?

Guess what?! You can now watch video of me swimming. Thanks dad!