If you are employed by Child Protective Services just go on ahead to the next blog now, and have a nice day.

Actual conversation I just had with a certain eleven-year-old male person to whom I am parent and legal guardian.

Him: I hope I don't die.
Me: Yeah, me too, buddy.
Him: Because I ate gun powder yesterday.
Me: You should be fine, just don't eat any matches today.

Further proof that it's strictly their father's fault that they've made it this far.

Bulldogs Totally Hate Litter Bugs. Or, Give a Hoot, Get Yo' Ass off My Porch.

After I got a bulldog puppy everyone kept telling me that I should be careful because bulldogs are the most stolen breed of dog there is. They’re pretty expensive, and the bulldog babymamas only have 1 -3 puppies per litter, so they’re kind of hard to get.

At first I wasn’t all that worried, because my bulldog is a fairly big jackass so I figured no one would steal him, although I wrongly assumed no one would steal my jackass of a college boyfriend and I turned out to be sadly mistaken on that one.

So, anyway, that’s why I’m constantly on the lookout for sluts named Heather hanging around my dog. So far, the coast is clear, but that’s probably because there’s a big sign on my back fence that says “Heathers” in a circle with a line through it. Just pays to take certain precautions. For insurance, you know? Keeps the homeowner’s policy cheap.

Anyway, recently I’ve noticed that besides the severe Heather threat, everyone that tries to sell me stuff on my porch is also eyeing the bulldog. And it’s not just because he’s standing on the arm of the chair snorting and snotting all over the picture window at them. Shady looking dudes selling oranges out of a van asked me, “hey – is that an English bulldog? Ain’t they kind of expensive? What’s his name?” And I swear I am not making this up, they then asked, “You got an alarm on this place?” WTF? So I was all, “NO, I don’t NEED an alarm because that there dog is a KIL-LER – and if anyone tries to come in our house he gets all crazy and shit and just goes NUTS and I cannot be held responsible for what would happen next because that dog is not right in the head, know what I’m saying?” And they were all, “Yeah, okay, so no alarm, then?” And I said, “Oh, yeah, sure. Of course we have an alarm. Who doesn’t have an alarm, that would be so stupid.”

Yesterday some very energetic folks rang the doorbell in the middle of my nap...I mean, a conference call, so I nicely let them go through their spiel about wanting to become important business persons and that their whole neighborhood back home could be transformed if I would simply purchase nine years of overpriced obscure magazines from them. Because I’m polite. And hardly ever interrupt. Strangers. So, after they handed me over their vinyl-clad portfolio of interesting publications that included “Gardens & Guns” and “Budget Scrapbooking” they noticed my fine lookin’ pet snotting up the picture window. “Hey – what kinda dog is that? That a bulldog? Them dogs' is expensive, ain’t they?” And then, “What’s his name?” A-HA! Why do you want to know? So that you can trick him into coming out of the yard after casing my joint all afternoon? So that you can lure him with a pound of hamburger into your Chevy panel van with no license plates that you’ll lock him in to cross state lines and put him on Craigslist in Wichita? I dug deep…trying to come up with a name that would impart major fear in these "communications majors from Chicago." And I came up with…eh, nothing. I told them his real name. Maybe because I was groggy from the conference call, but whatever. Then I ordered 36 months of Gardens & Guns, Machine Gun Collector Monthly and How to Deal with Your Own Mental Illness and Total Disregard for Human Life Quarterly.

Which I’m pretty sure scared them off. But not enough to keep them from asking me for a drink before they left. UMMM? Really? You are out pounding the streets to learn “business” and you ask your paying customers for a beverage after closing the deal? It’s not even hot out. Being in shock...I mean, the caring soul that I am, I went in and got a couple of bottles of sugary sports drink, did NOT spit in them at all, and brought them out, pushing the dog away with a poorly timed “Down Killer!” which I’m sure totally frightened them out of any plans of crime against bulldogs. Fifteen minutes later, I looked out and saw where they left the empties on my neighbors’ step. Hello? TACKY. If they DO steal my bulldog, I hope he shits in their van.

I'm totally going to get the Tag-alongs from a different little girl in front of a different grocery store now. Because of YOU.

Okay, well, yes I AM sorry that I slapped your daughter, but seriously? I just bought a CASE of Thin Mints from the little bitch. Does she really think I don't know that I can freeze them? When I just paid her for a year's supply? Okay, month supply. WHATEVER. Make her stop crying.

MBA? We don't need no stinkin' MBA.

Today's business advice:

When in staff meetings, it is best not to start sentences with "Whose bright idea was it to..."

Because, sometimes, it was your boss's bright idea.

This shall conclude today's lesson. Class dismissed.

Because I'm a FASHIONEESTA, baby.

I get way too many email ads from way too many companies that I'm very unlikely to ever buy anything from, but I don't want to unsubscribe to the list and hurt their feelings. As a marketing type person all day long, I realize the VAST implications of receiving their emails and not responding. I'm totally screwing up the response rate, cost of sale and multiple other essential matrices. I get that. But on a grander, more important level of vastitude, I don't want some poor graphic designer or copywriter to get canned because they're blamed for a bad headline or something after I unsubscribe after getting an email. Except for that J. Crew copywriter who calls cardigans "cardis" because they are evil and must be stopped.

So, I get emails for cars, tools, toys, electronics, real estate, candy, dog medicine, children's clothing made in England that will never fit a hearty spoiled American child and much more. Everything I've ever bought online, which is pretty much everything I own, is followed up with a lifetime of emails I won't respond to. Including J. Jill. Now - plenty of you gals out there probably LOVE J. Jill. At some point in my life I found their catalogs particularly appealing and even ordered a few things. The attraction just didn't stick with me because it turns out I am not shaped like a box, and therefore their clothes and me just don't get along. I'm not saying I'm hourglassed or pear-shaped or any of those things. I'm more...hmmm...well, I'm shaped much like a 13 year old boy. With boobs. J. Jill clothes are made for girls. Girly girls with girl type bodies.

So I get the emails and I open them up to see if maybe there's some amazing deal on a cashmere sweater that's usually $158 but is only $22 today because I would totally wear that even if it DID look like a perfect square instead of something a 13-year-old-boy-with-boobs would wear. And today, I see THIS as their representation of ultimate femininity. The hawt-yet-breezy look for spring.

A brown dress. A brown $99 dress with no shape. Granted, I bet it is comfortable, but REALLY, J. Jill? That's it? That's the new look everyone 25-45 will be wearing this spring? In brown? What happened, someone in the accounting department come to a meeting and say, "Now listen, guys, the economy is down. No one wants to be happy. Please, PLEASE, if we wanna sell any dresses this spring, we gotta make them boring. Depressing. Like something you'd wear in prison. In 1930. But we still gotta make money, so make it like a hundred bucks, K?"

And the marketing people piped up and said, "But what about our cheerful demographic? Our SEO stats say that 35% of our customers who are dress shopping googled "Dress for Hope."

And that is why for just another $49 you can add the floral cardigan jacket thing to cover up the prison housecoat dress thing, for this amazing look. Really freshens it up, huh? I bet middle school girls are clamoring for this outfit.

I contend that the fashion experts at J. Jill were out at a team-building conference or something instead of at the ol' drawing boards when they planned the Must Have Looks for Spring 2009. Either that, or some guy in the research department decided that their prime customer was over the age of 80. Because besides being the exact replica of a JC Penney's housecoat, this hundred dollar dress also includes A Detachable Slip! Even though nothing is more sucktastic on a warm day than a clinging layer of polyester...except for maybe a layer of polyester clinging to gawd, pantyhose, it is against the law for anyone under the age of 80 to wear a dress without a slip, even if said dress is BROWN.

If I've offended you because you think the above look is young, clever, and an ironic nod to the vintage housecoat, I apologize. And also I would like to save you about $100. Because in another completely unrelated email, I was pitched these alternatives, which I would totally buy before the J.Jill one, because, Hello, they're $100 cheaper, and B: They're backless. Talk about a breezy look for spring. So cool it's hot.