Dance And The World Dances With You......Sometimes

Kroger's grocery traditionally only plays the lamest of the lame on their in-store radio. They're single-handedly resurrecting the soothing soft rock favorites that time (mercifully) forgot.
After a particularly mind-numbing shopping experience where the overhead speakers blared both the Titanic theme song and "The Wreck Of The Edmund Fitzgerald" back-to-back, I came to the conclusion that their programmer harbors an unhealthy ship wreck fixation.
Keep that man away from a career in the cruise ship D.J. field!
Sometimes the music is so bleak that I automatically go into announcer mode with my snarky-malarkey radio voice. My announcements usually go something like this: "Sad Sack Radio: All the saddest songs, all the time! Kindly vacate the rat poison and kitchen knife aisles before the next suicidal tune in this very special Depress-A-Thon music mix!"
If you happen to survive the sentimental sounds wreaking havoc on your emotions then you'll be well prepared to take on over the narcolepsy-inducing aspect of so many sllllooooowwwwww songs played right in a row.
It's not just on major thoroughfares that you have to worry about people falling asleep at the wheel. It's a good thing Kroger's sells No Doz tablets, otherwise the shopping basket fatalities resulting from customers nodding off while pondering which Hamburger Helper to buy this week would be much greater.
How many eggs and pasta sauce jars must be sacrificed before Kroger's deigns to plays some peppier stuff?
I get the slow music strategy, though. It's all a sinister marketing ploy.
See, the more plodding the music, the greater the likelihood a customer will linger longer. The shoppers essentially become unwitting victims, aimlessly wandering down the aisles in a lite rock-infused daze. Muskrat Love always has that effect on me anyways. So, basically, all of this leads to impulse buying and increased spending.
It's freakin diabolical but incredibly genius at the same time.
So imagine my surprise while shopping last Friday night, with my entire entourage of mini-Infidels in tow, when the K-Roger Discotheque actually played a kickin' J. Lo song. Not just that, but it was a funky dance remix of J. Lo's club hit "Get Right."
I was powerless to resist the rump-shaking urges that "Get Right" always induces. I swear that the milk section had been completely vacant prior to my dancing jiggling exhibition with giant string cheese tumbleweeds rolling down the desolate aisle. But then, much to my horror, I turned around slowly just in time to witness at least 5 other Kroger shoppers frozen in shock, staring at me with wide eyes and mouths agape.
Apparently my milk shake doesn't bring all the boys to the yard.....but it does bring all the customers to the dairy aisle.
Embarrassed at my uncharacteristic display of craziness, I took my mini-Infidels and hid in the secluded safety of the clearance corner until I was sure that all the involuntary spectators had moved on.
Sunbum, the oldest, kept reassuring me that it was fine. She remarked that the people looked on disapproving because they wondered what the heck someone could be so happy about that they'd dance a jig right in the middle of the grocery store. Sunbum said they were probably jealous of my uninhibited spontaneity.
I'm sure that's it.
The moral of the story is that one should always avoid the advice set forth by hand-painted plaques and cheesy gift shop merchandise.
I did indeed dance like no one was watching. Regrettably though, people were watching. In fact, it felt as though ALL the eyes of Texas were upon me eyeballing my lack of rhythm, grace, and coordination.
I could almost hear that mysterious voice from Field Of Dreams echoing, "IF YOU SHAKE IT, THEY WILL COME!"
Well then, I guess in the future I'll be a little more discerning about where and when I choose to bust a move since it's like a beacon for all to gather round and stare in wide wonder.
Here's a few helpful lifestyle tips I've composed just for you:

• Sing Like Nobody Is Listening You Just Had Your Vocal Chords Removed.
• Work Like You Don't Need The Money Vindictive Vinnie And His Sidekick Liver Lips Louie Are Waiting At Your House, Crowbar In Hand, For This Month's Protection Payment.
• Dance Like Nobody Is Watching You're At A Southern Baptist Convention.
• Love Like You've Never Been Hurt Everyone Is Made Out Of Peanut Butter And You'll Go Into Anaphylactic Shock If You Get Too Close.
• Blog Like Nobody Is Reading You Ain't Making No Money Out Of It. (Oh wait, I think I already got this one down.)

P.S. This is my new theme song to life. The first few lines address the unfortunate occurrence of getting laughed at while dancing--to which Aussie Ben Lee chirpily croons "I Feel SAD For You, You Never Take A Chance!" Awesome.
BEN LEE--WHAT'S SO BAD ABOUT FEELING GOOD?

As If There Was Any Doubt.........

I Got Plenty Of Sole Inside! (Unfortunately It's Way Too Squishy)

Both pairs of my beloved Birkenstocks have seen a better day. I really did try to equally distribute the gift of potent Elasticwaistbandlady foot sweat between them, but they're still weathered down to a point where the insides look like Tiny Tim's teeth after he's been on a licorice bender while tiptoeing through the tulips.

The Birkenstock Two have lost all ability to properly grip my massive feet. So consequently I struggle when I'm walking to keep my tootsies from sliding around. They also make unholy armpit fart noises from the foot friction. I've grown weary of laughing off the embarrassment and telling people that I opted for shoe insoles manufactured by the Whoopee Cushion company.

I don't enjoy shoe shopping at all. If I could get my house full of mini-Infidels to work like little sweatshop elves-cobbling together shoes- I'd happily take that option over dragging myself to the store.

Luckily, I found these tanned leather beauties that scream out "MIDDLE-AGED MAMA!" while replacing my oldest daughter's black EMO shoes that sprung a leak last month. (I think she wore them down from constantly polishing them. I have weird kids with weird shoe fetishes)

Since Ross Dress For Less discount stores don't offer complimentary hose footies for trying on shoes, I snagged my new sandals without even giving them a trial run through the bargain lingerie section.

The first day of ownership I wore them to Church without incident. The second time I slipped them on though, I noticed an odd "SSSSSSSSSSS" sound that followed me everywhere I went.

I keep losing steam as I age, but I'm not losing air. My mind kept nagging me. Maybe I did have a slow leak somewhere? Well, I wasn't about to stick the tire pressure gauge in any of my holes to find out!

Perhaps my Made In India shoes came specially equipped with a bunch of baby snakes inside, and that's them in there, hissing with each step I take?

I exhausted all logical possibilities and finally concluded that the annoying sound was emanating from the ridiculously puffy sandal insole.

Terrific. Now the first impression I make when I sashay into a room will be my lifelike impression of air whooshing out of a padded, cushiony toilet seat when you plop down on it.

How will I ever win the Hide-And Seek Grand Championship when my shoes betray my location with every step? 

These sandals have been rejected by the Stealth Ninja Society and The National Library Association.

*I kept the 10 sticker inside so I could show any doubters that I am and always will be a PERFECT 10!*

There Always Has To Be At Least One In Every Family.....

I'm talking about camera hogs.......shameless, ruthless picture stealers who will stop at absolutely nothing to ensure ingratiating themselves into a photo frame a split second before the camera button clicks--thus immortalizing their photowhoring visage for many generations to come.
Meet my 6 year-old son, Logan. All I wanted to do was document my Melody's blissful joy as she realized her life's dream of winning the Sam's Cup Tournament. (That would be the Sam's SODA Cup) We rarely drink soda at home so when Melody slurped her first sip of Sprite mixed with Fruit Punch through the straw, her little face just lit up. (It was probably just gas) Of course Logan also wanted a piece of the Sam's Cup bounty hence his fierce expression and oddly arched Jack Nicholson eyebrows.

The only possible way to defeat a camera hog on the prowl is to use stealth and cunning. Apparently I lack both because my next picture attempt screamed out ABJECT FAILURE just like the first one.
Here we see Logan demonstrating his 'Give-Me-Prune-Juice-NOW' look.

I had to call in backup assistance to handle Logan. My enforcement team lured him away with the promise of cheese pizza leaving me just enough time to snap this lurvely portrait of Melody sharing her Sam's Cup Styrofoam Trophy with big sister Sunbum.

This picture is dedicated to Sunbum's online twin, Lauren Face who's visiting the not-fictional town of Forks, Washington (you know, where Bella and Edward live) even as I type this. See Lauren? You're not the only one who got to visit Forks this weekend!

Cue The Patti LaBelle Music.....I Got A New Attitude!

I've been really churlish lately. It's not hard to understand why since I brought all the misery to myself with my own misplaced priorities. See, I stopped going to church with my family back in February. Yeah, I really did. I went from Smiling Infidel to Frowning Heathen even faster. I guess this was truly my winter of discontent.

My defiance began brewing when I was released from my Nursery calling in January. I've never gone without a calling in the 10 years since I converted to the Church. Never. I've felt really useless and I started justifying my Church absence because I assumed that nobody really needed me.....only they do. My family needs me there. They need me to pull my act together and behave in a manner that will bring familial blessings to our home as promised in the Scriptures. How could I have lost the way so fast?

It's just way too easy to use my job schedule as an excuse for missing Church. I've worked every single stinkin day for the past 6 years despite illness and pregnancy and car crashes, true enough, but I've allowed that weariness to ingratiate itself into my life as a hard and bitter presence.

Out with the old and in with the new.

I got the most fantastic deal on this dress at Macy's today. And thanks to my job, the one that I usually curse and despise, I saw the Macy's coupon printed on the back of the newspaper allowing me to save an additional 10 bucks. I haven't bought a new dress for church since Y2K. It was about time.

Not only do we homebirth and homeschool around here but we also play home hair salon.

I have quite an impressive hair-cutting repertoire when it comes to my boys. They get to choose between Buzz Cut, Crew Cut, Army Cut, or Yul Brynner cut. With money being tight, I opted to play the role of Elastic Scissorhands and trim up the Infidel girls hair today.

Caterpillar has grown her hair out for 2 years in the interest of donating it to Locks Of Love. Two years to grow, and only 30 seconds to snip it all off.


Impressed with the cutty prowess I showed on Caterpillar, the second oldest mini-Infidel, Monkey, volunteered to be next up on the Hair BOB Express.

Because Melody lives by the credo 'Monkey See, Monkey Do' she got a matching sister haircut.

They all stood perfectly statue-still while I worked the ancient BOB hair magic on them. Even though they were perfect angels, they didn't get a lollipop when I was done. That's okay, because they didn't leave any money on my makeshift paper plate Tip Jar, either.

I also collected enough hair off the floor to make oodles of arm pit hair wigs for all those less fortunate people suffering from Chronic Armpit Baldness Disorder!

We Saw David Cassidy In Someone's Front Yard!

Well, to be more precise we actually spotted yard signs heralding the extracurricular activities of two local students named David and Cassidy.

I wonder if they have a dad named Ron? Perhaps both children are the resulting products of their father waggling his eyebrows suggestively at their mother while seductively crooning, "Hey, baby, why don't you Do Ron Ron Ron, Da Do Ron Ron?"

Yep, the only thing missing to make this family complete is an Irish Setter named Bonaduce. With both the canine and human counterpart, Danny Bonaduce, featuring all-over wild and woolly red fur, they're nearly impossible to tell apart.

*This post is dedicated to Nancy Face who still loves David Cassidy 4-ever!*

My Bologna Has A First Name....... And So Does My Feminine Hygiene Product!

From skimpy personalized thongs to giant bean bag chairs, I've seen all kinds of cheesy crap stamped with the gloriousness that is my name. Sadly, after searching for many years, I've still yet to find even one line of feminine hygiene products bearing my moniker- scribbling 'MELISSA' on the front of the package with a black Sharpie marker isn't quite the same. I frequently entertained swirling thoughts of legally changing my name to Tampax or Kotex until the fateful morning I stumbled across this display at our local 99 Cents Only Store. Oh wow, the Julie's of the world really have all the luck, don't they? I'm experiencing serious monogram envy.Now Julie can join the ranks of important females with iconic names like Sara Lee, Betty Crocker, Aunt Jemima, Little Debbie, and Wendy's. I can only imagine the profound befuddlement of the poor men who reside in homes dominated by estrogen as to why their ladies keep talking about someone or something named Julie. Anyway, I've secretly placed a hidden Infidel microphone in just such a home. Let's listen in, shall we?

"I wore white pants today and Julie really let me down. I should sue Julie for the dry cleaning bill."

"I'm riding the Julie Express again for the fourth day in a row."

"Just because Julie has wings doesn't mean that Julie can fly. Kindly walk your Julie to the can instead of throwing Julie across the room"

"That stanky Julie's been all up in my business today."

"I'm so glad that Julie was with me when Aunt Flo came to visit. Aunt Flo can be a real pain in the azz but Julie absorbs everything she can dish out with no complaints!"

"No, I'm sorry, not tonight, honey. I've already got Julie between my legs."

At certain times of the month my world revolves around you, Julie. Also, I can honestly say that you've boldly gone where no Julie has ever gone before. Congratulations, Julie!

Don't you forget about me. I'll be alone, dancing you know it, baby. Don't you forget about me....don't, don't, don't. Don't you...... forget about me. Please click. Gracias!

What A Bunch Of Freakin Posers!

My mom had this annoyingly competitive friend she left behind in our podunk Indiana town as we joined the Yankee mass exodus to Texas in 1984. My mom used to receive frequent letters from her detailing the very model of perfection and hallowed goodness her two children embodied. My mom's friend delighted in filling page after page with announcements like how the fruit of her loins had just won the Lifetime Golly Gee You're Neat-O Achievement Award and would we please consider sending a monetary donation to ensure that her kids can make their annual summer pilgrimage with the church down to Mexico to show the poor, impoverished little brown children how to change their pathetic lives by becoming super Neat-O mini-replicas of her own fantastical offspring? Yeah.

My poor mom didn't have much ammunition to combat her with, either. I mean, having a slacker daughter who's on the high school bowling team doesn't exactly lend itself to bragging rights. I was also a proud member of Amnesty International- Well, only because I thought brooding guys in black T-shirts that listened to The Smiths and Charlatans UK were teh awesome. They really should have been credited with the title, 'Godfathers Of EMO' and established Robert Smith as their patron saint.

So, one day while driving through the next neighborhood over from us, we both had an epiphany. There, standing before us, like a giant, looming beacon screaming out "Hey, It Smells Like Team Spirit!", we saw it-- a yard filled with signs, and all of them with my name emblazoned upon them. My mom had me pose smack in the middle of the glory field. A few staged pictures later and she could now tell her friend that I was not only a cheerleader, but also the captain of the track team, a member of National Honor Society, and on the Country Club's elite swim team........and then silently pray that her friend would never get a sudden yearning to come visit us. In keeping with my family's shameless traditions, I made my children pose for Easter pictures at our neighbor's house last week because their grass is greener and their azaleas are in bloom. Meanwhile my yard is in some sort of crunchy brown haze and everything but my trusty, no-fail dianthus are on a blooming strike. Yeah, I'm going to pass my neighbor's yard off as my own this year to long-distance friends and family who don't know any better. I gave up lying for the Lent season, but by the time these cards go out, Lent will be over. Keep on moving, there's no sin to see here. Nope, none at all........

(Okay, the Lent thing is a lie. We're not even Catholic.)

*Clicking on humor-blogs.com for me will release all the guilt and stress you've been feeling lately*

The Infidels Go On A Shopping Excursion!

If you've ever attended Primary in my church you can sing along with the bouncy little ditty joyfully teaching about preparing for the Sabbath and all the crap important work that must be completed on Saturday so that we may rest on Sunday.

The mini-Infidels watch a very limited amount of T.V. each week so we all burst out laughing when 6-year old Boo-Boo began singing:

"Saturday is a special day
It's the time we watch our cartoons all day
We watch T.V. and we watch some more
And we won't stop watching til Mondaaaayyyy"

Lovely, no?

Boo-Boo was quite disappointed because we cut into his sacred Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle time and spent most of Saturday at our favorite haunt, Traders Village Flea Market!

We stopped here to look for some half-price azzes in the event that we ever actually LMAO like we say we do. Sadly, the pickings were mighty slim in the azz department. False Azz advertising. :(

Nothing shows a deep and abiding love for your soulmate like dragging home sleazy lingerie from the flea market. I couldn't resist the fuzzy blue ensemble in the middle. It seems perfectly perfect for a surprise Valentine's gift. See it? It's the one that looks like eyes and a mouth screaming out "NOOOOOOOOOO!" I love it! I sure hope it fits Papi because they said you can't exchange or return the merchandise.

These are the Infidels Of Discontent. I denied them the pleasure that only a flea market corndog experience can bring. The corndog stand is conveniently located next to the row of puppy peddlers. Coincidence?

Here we are terrorizing the fine folks at Half-Price Books. My daughter Sunbum likes Big Buds, and she cannot lie! She had her hands all over those Big Buds when no one was looking.

Buster does not like shopping unless it involves B.B. guns/Nerf guns/air guns or some sort of camouflage clothing. He's either wondering if it'll all be over soon or if he can make eye contact with passing spacecraft in hopes of rescue.

Melody is practicing her facial expressions just in case the Face family ever adopts her. One must exercise and expand the elasticity of the jaw line before even attempting to replicate a patent Face Family picture moment.

Thinking about wrapping your baby up in plastic like a newly won goldfish from the county fair? What a fantastic idea! It even features air vents for "good circulation." I know, why not just put your kid inside a plastic grocery bag? That way they're more easily transportable and you won't even need that bulky stroller.

The official dusting apparatus of The Gay Pride movement. It's made from 100% percent authentic Rainbow Brite particles, beyotch.

This is what happens when you leave your trashy trucker cap next to your cowboy hat in a darkened closet.......they spawn monstrously ugly headwear.

If you build your cap out of straw the Big Bad Wolf is going to get you.

All Natural, Fat Free, and Mild.......that is exactly how I like my Mexican!

And finally, for the pet with the most discriminate of tastes..........no, scratch that. For the pet with absolutely ZERO taste buds, Dollar General presents their own line of processed pet food. Chunks&Bones is made completely from organic material donated to the company by people who didn't have the time to bury their victims. Coats'N'Tails calls itself a complete and balanced meal for your pet but they left out the Snips'N'Snails. Or maybe Coats'N'Tails is actually comprised of discarded tuxedos. Whatever the ingredients, Mmmmm, Mmmmm that's some good eatin!

*humor-blogs.com owns Husker Du's Greatest Hits*

I Wonder If The Christian Rock Group P.O.D Was Actually Named After Passive Odor Dispensers? (Their Music Does Stink, After All)

While roosting on the potty at Kroger's grocery store last week I noticed these air-freshener devices strategically placed throughout the bathroom.

I think it's most unfortunate that Kroger's resorted to using such cut-rate sanitizing tools. Why would they assume that something labeled as "passive" would put up a valiant deodorizing effort in fighting the evil armies of malodorous poopy particles?

Now, I've been characterized as demonstrating extreme passive/aggressive behavior on occasion- but never just solely passive. Basically, I'm a hardcore Aggressive Odor Dispenser. I laugh haughtily in the face of the feeble stink combat skills that a simple Passive Odor Dispenser brings to the Stankfest Games.

Yes, I entered into fierce one-on-one competition with the Passive Odor Dispenser, determined to prevail. I'm proud to say that through diligent straining and struggling I was declared the definite victor in our intense match.

My win proved to be a loss for the other restroom patrons, though.

*The Passive Odor Dispenser at humor-blogs.com only works when you pull their finger*

The Smiling Infidel Wants To Play Games With You:Guess That Movie Title!

In this picture are two completely unrelated items. Well, at least they're completely unrelated where I live. Maybe pelicans in your area do happen to prance around wearing underwear. I'm no ornithologist, so I don't really know.

So, to the best of your ability, can you guess the name of the movie this photo represents?

On a side note, I do feel kind of bad for creeping up into these people's yard in broad daylight just to violate their beloved pelican in this way. I mean, it's nothing more than a spiffy lawn tchotchkie. It's not a super bad stunt pelican nor is it a panty model for Pelican's Secret.

I can assure you that the landscaping crew laboring next door took quite an interest in my snappy little photo shoot. As I left, I looked back and noticed them still leaning against their rakes and mowers with heads cocked to the side and faces filled with pure, unadulterated WTF??!!? sentiments. Como se dice "WTF?" en Espanol, por favor? Hey, it was really chilly out today! I did that pelican a favor by warming him up with a versatile and toasty hat/shawl combo.
And this is the picture that the pelican never wanted you to see.........Hopefully he'll start attending Pelican Panty Sniffers Anonymous soon and kick this most egregious habit. I know that his obsession with knickers led to a hit movie with two A-list actors and all, but we're not living in 1993 anymore. It's time to give up the briefs, already.If humor-blogs.com ever makes a movie you can bet your sweet bippy that it'll be chock full of panty-wearin/panty-sniffin pelicans.

Feliz Navidad From Elastic Y Los Mini-Infideles!

My own personal S.Q.U.A.T Team getting in some valuable squatting practice time.

Bonga, Bonga, Bonga As We Do The Christmas Conga!

Traffic Jam Delays On The East Side Slide.

Here's A Picture From The Day The Mini-Infidels Set A World Record For Yule Log Eating.

I'm Ashamed To Admit It But Yes, It's True......My Kids Are Really Heavy Drinkers.

This Is A Little Pose I Like To Call "Keep Backing Up To Get The Perfect Shot Until You Step In A Pile Of Fresh Duck Doo-Doo." True Story. :(
So Then I Got A Call On Friday From The Bank Manager Saying That It Was Urgent And She Needed To Speak With Me Immediately.

I Freaked Out. Just A Little Bit.

And Then She Announced That My Sunbum Won Their Super Ginormous, Colossal, Gargantuan, Buttload-Of-Crap Stocking Giveaway! As You Can See Sunbum Was Very Excited. Upon Arriving Home She Promptly Separated And Wrapped Up Most Of The Toys Inside In Preparation Of A Re-Gifting Mission .

No Need For A DNA Test. This One's Definitely Mine.

And The Winning Streak Just Continues On At Our House. Yesterday I Found Out That I Had Won The Carrier Complaint Contest And That My Boss Would Be The Sucker Out Delivering My Route For Me This Morning In Freezing Temperatures! And No I Didn't Win The Complaint Contest Based On The Amount Of Complaining I Do. It Was A Reward For The Lowest Customer Complaint Ratio. We Won't Mention My Ninja-Like Skills In Cutting Phone Service So People Couldn't Call The Complaint Line.

From Each And Every SIngle One Of Us To Each And Every Single One Of You We Wish You A Very Merry Christmas!

Infidel House Party!

*Using my most annoying Casey Kasem voice*
And the number one song in the Infidel household for two weeks in a row is..........
Orson- Ain't No Party
We seriously can't get enough of it and the video rocks too! Sadly, like most current Infidel favorites iTunes does not carry this track yet. Boo iTunes! At least we can still bounce to it courtesy of youtube.

And now you'll never look at a "House Party" the same way again.

Huked On Fonix Wirked Fo Mee

Okay. I jumped out of my truck this morning in the darkened twilight hours just to capture the magnetic signage marvel slapped onto the tailgate of a pickup in my neighborhood. They spelled computer as 'KOMPUTER?' Seriously? I'm not sure I want a technician poking around at something he can't even spell. If he was trying for alliterative cuteness, why didn't he name his business KNOX KOMPUTER KOMPANY rather than Service? They could have abbreviated it to K.K.K. Maybe I have it all wrong and KOMPUTER is something totally different from COMPUTER. In which case, I want one for Christmas. I don't want to be left out.
File this one in the E For Eelliterate category.

I Wonder If The Apache Tribe Made A Special Sugarhill Gang Totem Pole To Honor Them?

I didn't mean to pry. I really didn't. But it was recently revealed unto me that one of my dearest friends has led a deprived life stripped of the soaring joy one can only experience through the magic of The Fresh Prince Of Bel Air breaking it down Apache-style with his cousin Carlton. How can I possibly stand idly by while a friend is in need of an emergency pop culture injection? Millie Chicken, Elastic sends this long-distance dedication to you in the hopes that it will act as a little ray of sunshine piercing through the gray Washington skies. Jump on it, Kemosabe!

[1:17]

This Georgie Porgie Pudding Pie Will Never Be Accused Of Kissing The Girls And Making Them Cry!

As usual, I'm just getting a little behind on premiering this very special edition of Gay Tuesday Wednesday. That's okay, though, because there's nothing in this world that Mr. George Michael loves more than getting a little behind!

George Michael is a tragic reminder that I lack the possession of a supernatural 'Sixth Sense' gift. No, I'm not talking about seeing dead people, I'm referring to my non-existent Sixth Sense Gaydar system. I can't see dead people. I can't see gay people. I can't even see dead gay people. Liberace could be haunting my house at this very moment and I wouldn't even know it. :( Before I settled down and became the right-wing zealot I am today, I used to live with two gay guys who teased me endlessly whenever we'd play a rousing guessing game of 'Gay Or Nay?' When George Michael sashayed into our conversation, I vociferously defended his heterosexual honor only to have my roommates giggle at me and declare, "Oh Lissa, you're so innocent." How did they know? How could they see beyond the macho exterior squeezed into delicious butt-hugging jeans? Of course, they were spot on about George and kept their perfect 'Gay Or Nay?' game point average.

So, fellow Gay Warriors, as you head out on this glorious Gay Tuesday Wednesday Hump Day on your mission to reclaim all that is gay and rainbow bright back for the common masses of happy humanity, just remember these sage words from our featured musician of the day and his song, 'Monkey,' "Why do I have to share love with a monkey, a monkey....aye, aye, aye aye?" Simply prophetic.

Happy Gay Hump Day!

Even Sleeping Beauty Had A Special Shield To Keep Bird Poop Off Her

I didn't want to move in any closer to capture this Kodak moment and startle my droopy man boob prey. So, you'll have to put on your bifocals to examine the minute details of this picture......if you dare.

What is that white stuff caked all over him, you may ask? Is it tribal warrior markings? Is he a fallout victim from a Liquid Paper factory explosion? Did he get run over by a county truck painting median lines on the road? No. Why, it's nothing but 100% genuine bird crap! Yes, Rip Van Winkle awoke from his slumber with a long flowing beard and tattered clothes. But Houston's very own Tit Van Tinkle will arise from his stupor to find himself being used as a human Port-A-Potty for the entire avian population situated around his home. He had a lit cigarette smoldering in between his fingers too. I would expect nothing less from him.

I wonder what he's dreaming about while the birds line up on the tree branches above to take a dump on him? Maybe he always had aspirations of living life as an immobile park statue? Perhaps he's silently humming a little B.J. Thomas tune? "Bird Poop Keeps Falling On My Head.........."

Welcome To The Infidel Time Machine:Destination 1980's! Don't Forget Your Leg Warmers And Jelly Shoes

I constantly snap pictures that catch my interest in one way or another. I used to participate in the blogging community's collaborative Wordless Wednesday effort, but I just don't have time for it these days. I hate to see a fun picture go to waste, so today I bring you a retro 80's feel as I inexplicably undergo the task of matching all the photos seen here with an 80's theme counterpart. Oh great Goddess of Nachos, how I worship thee and your lovely processed cheese goodness. The Valero gas station attendant knows me and the full extent of my nacho addiction. She's allowing herself to slip into the role of co-dependency as she gifts me with fresh jalapenos whenever I stop by.

As I fall helpless under the nachos enchanting spell, I always think of this song: Starpoint-Object Of My DesireThe sight of this gargantuan, Pepto-Bismol pink gorilla amused my daughter, Monkey, and I this week. I couldn't help but feel sorry for this inflatable beast, though. I mean, how demeaning and demoralizing to have to wear such an itsy-bitsy, teenie-weenie, yellow polka dot bikini. What, are they trying to pimp her out to become the next Bride Of King Kong? Or maybe to win the Miss Gorilla Fingers International beauty pageant?

I hereby dedicate this little simian ditty to her: Peter Gabriel-Shock The MonkeyThis obviously inflammatory banner really caught my ire. Who do these people think they are discriminating like that with their storage business? There's laws against this sort of prejudice, you know. I mean, it's all fine and good for the elite letters of R & E, to revel in their own exclusive little club, but what about the rest of the alphabet? Will they always be on the outside looking in? Is there no room at the inn for 24 more letters? Such heartless and cruel alphabet abuse makes this Infidel profoundly sad.

It also makes these guys sad because they'll never receive an invitation to play at the R&E gigs since their kind obviously isn't welcome: ABC-Look Of Love
I'm sort of a pizza connoisseur, and I'm not afraid to top my pizza with strangely new and exciting things. Sadly, I can think of nothing more disgusting than a pizza laden with taco corners. What's next, discarded sandwich crust pizza? No, it's just plain wrong to recycle your crispy little taco corners in this way.

I think that I should recruit this man to come and speak about the perils of ingesting Taco Corner Pizza. He's all about 'Puttin On The Ritz,' but I'm thinking that I'm okay with crumbled Ritz crackers on my pizza as opposed to someone else's germy taco leftovers:Taco-Puttin On The RitzAnd finally, we find ourselves stuck at the Adhesives Inc. company. I guess it's a sticky job, but someones gotta do it. I wonder if any former employees have told the boss to take his job and 'stick it' where the sun don't shine?

I'm sure I already know what they play at the company picnic every year, their theme song, of course: Huey Lewis-Stuck With You