Swimsuit Foresight from the Marshalls Dressing Room Lady

“Good Luck”

That phrase, buckling under the weight of a Ukranian accent, were the last words the dressing room attendant at Marshalls uttered before she handed me the five swimsuits I had chosen to try on.

Really?  Good Luck?

She could have said a myriad of things:

  • Thank you
  • Here you go
  • Don’t try stealing anything, I’m watching you
  • Nice selection
  • Call me, maybe?

But to say “good luck”, as if sliding the latch on the dressing room door could be the last thing my pasty wintered body might ever do…What was she expecting the end result to be?


Please.  Happy swimsuit season, everyone!

Have you ever had a bizarre shopping experience? Tell me about it in the comments section

The Choir Boy


The following is a Past Times post.  Enjoy!The Choir Boy

November 3rd, 1962

It was another rough day at school. Father doesn’t want to hear about it, so I guess you’re the one who has to listen to me, journal. The one great thing about you is that you don’t ever tell me to shut up.

Catherine smiled at me today, which was wonderful….but when I tried to sit at her lunch table George “pretended” to spill his chocolate milk all over my shirt. I spent the rest of the lunch period in Mrs. Marshall’s office, trying to get the stain out. The stain never really came out, by the way. So I had to spend the rest of the day walking around looking filthy. It was stupid, but at least I didn’t get into any fights.

Now for some good news: I think I finally came up with a plan to get Catherine to like me. Father won’t like it, but mother will be excited. You see, Catherine is always walking around humming Patsy Cline songs. She never outright sings them, but that’s ok, she’s a great hummer.

I figure if I can learn how to sing, I can walk around the halls humming, and if I get good enough at it-singing. She’d really notice me if I were a good singer. I might even learn a country song, she likes country I guess. So I signed up for the chorus today.

Mrs. Clanahan said she was proud of me for “branching out into a cultured pasttime”, whatever that means. I wish the uniforms they make us wear could “branch out” into the garbage. I feel like a marshmallow with that thing on. The sleeves are white and poofy, which isn’t so bad….but ontop of that we have to wear a big green bowtie. A gigantic, poofy, big-as-your-face bowtie. At least it’s green. I’d puke if it were pink or yellow.

Tomorrow I’m going to learn the scales. I wonder how many of those are in a Patsy Cline song.

Alright, I have to wash up for dinner. I’ll let you know how the scales go.


Life Lesson: DO NOT ‘Grin and Bear it’

I’m an animal lover.  I don’t eat meat and I try not to smush spiders.  But if there were a big red button I could push to ensure that I would go the rest of my life without ever being graced by the presence of one animal, it would be the bear.  Because I want people to realize the dangers these animals pose to our human race, I have put together a list of reasons why bears,if they wanted to, could wipe out humans, take over the world and wear your skin as cape.  Plain and simple: bears should be feared, not respected.  Respect leads to trust, and trust leads to Old Mr. Grizzly using your femur as a toothpick.

I can hear all you naive internet dwellers now: But Danielle WHY?!  Bears are so cute!  What’s your beef?

My “beef” is precisely what’s at stake! I like my meat to stay on my bones.  Bears have two jobs on this planet:

floss, anyone?

floss, anyone?


oh, look, a family of face-grazers

By “food” I mean ANYTHING! Bears ain’t picky. They’ll eat plants, berries, trash, preservatives, insects, birds, angry birds, boomboxes, fish, your firstborn…it doesn’t matter…IF THEY’RE HUNGRY AND SOMETHING IS NEAR THEM, THEY WILL EAT IT! They don’t care about maintaining lean physiques. Their goal is to get as fat as they can so they can hibernate when it gets cold. Those winter-hating bastards. I have to kind of admit that I’m a little jealous. I wish I could lie down for a nap in November and wake up in April.  At least I wouldn’t have to wait so long in between seasons of “The Walking Dead.”

 “But Danielle,” you say “Even if bears were out to eat my flesh off, they’d never be able to catch me.”

“I’d climb a tree.”





Good luck with that.








“I’d swim away.”

That sounds like a great idea if your next stop is swimming with the fishes.  Dummy.

“Ok fine, I’ll run away.”


Bears walk on two legs faster than you can run.  Once this bear was finished mocking runway models he devoured the camera man.

Our children have been disillusioned into thinking that bears are cute and  cuddly.  We even encourage babies to nuzzle up next to stuffed versions of these death machines in their cribs.  In my opinion, every time a child hears the word “bear” or sees an image of a bear they should be immediately pinched.  Then they will begin to associate bears with pain, and we no longer set our children up for shock and disappointment when they come across Mr. Blackbear at the local dumpster, try to high-five it and end up losing a limb.  We owe it to our children to pinch them.


Damn you, Teddy!

New tee-shirt sogan: SAVE A LIMB, PINCH A  TEDDY BEAR CHILD.

So, please, take heed:  Bears are not cuddly creatures who want to be our bffs.  If there is anything you can take away from this article it’s this:  Be careful when you’re in bear country (which by the way is everywhere except Australia, Africa and Antarctica).  Bears are dangerous.  They are hungry, mean, tree-climbing, water-swimming, fast-sashaying creatures of destruction that will digest your family faster than you can say “Teddy Ruxpin.”

I’d move to Australia, but the spiders down there are big enough to squish me.

Do you have any irrational fears of animals?  If so, tell me about it in the comments section!

For Shame….


“I’ve heard that hard work never killed anyone, but I say why take the chance?”

~Ronald Reagan

Boy oh boy I’m ashamed of myself.  I had a lovely blog set up and I let it sink into the darkness of the ‘lazy blogger graveyard.’  I even missed my golden opportunity on Jan 1st to restart my writing goals with a New Year’s Resolution.  But as Ronald Reagan used to not say, “there’s no time like the present.”  BLOGGING is restarting now!

Apologies to anyone out there (Mom) may have missed my posts.  But mostly, apologies to myself.  My lazy, unmotivated, good-for-procrastinating self.

Girl Brains- The Delinquents

*Author’s Note* Girlbrains is a section of this blog where I write commentary on actual diary entries and/or notes that young girls write.  It’s funny because they’re insane.*

Warning! If you are thinking of having children, read with caution.  This post may make you want to hire a med student to take out your uterus and sell it on the black market.  Take a moment and read a note sent from one wild child to another during the dreaded teenage years.  Having trouble reading the note?  You can read a typed out version here.

Where do I even begin?

First of all, I want to speak directly to any new parents reading this.  Don’t worry.  Not all teenagers will scoff at your parental guidelines and reject your care for their well being like Simon Cowell rejects special needs singers.  Then again, I’m sure the mother of this bull-minded young lady never thought that her child would grow up to be such a defiant delinquent.  Ha.  I’m still amused that she called her parents delinquents.

Lets get down to business now.  While reading and re-reading this note, I couldn’t get over the injustice this poor girl is suffering at the hands of the monsters that call themselves her ‘parents’.  Thank goodness there was a child brave enough to stare down the evil entities and ‘put them in their place’.

A curfew?! What do you think this is?  Some sort of system where you provide me with food and shelter and I am expected-nay-DEMANDED to adhere to guidelines ensuring my safety?!? Oh the inhumanity!

How dare these ingrates demand to know where their daughter is going!  William Wallace could have found a life partner with the author.

“They may give me a curfew, but they will never take my freedom!”

Actually, to be completely honest, I kind of admire her conviction.  She is sassy, strong, and won’t stand for injustice.  If she headed up the Occupy Wall Street movement I’m pretty positive the demands would have been met three months ago.

I would also like to thank the author of this note for clearing up a controversial subject: This is clear evidence that corporal punishment does not work.  Do you want to punish your children by hitting them? Apparently the pain only lasts for a minute, and after they endure the pain, they win.  Spanking leads to  calloused-bottomed children running amok in the neighborhood, doing laundry and keeping their rooms clean.  For the love of humanity, use the time-out method- USE THE TIME-OUT METHOD!

Some of my friends have recently had babies, and for a nano second I began to think  “oh, wouldn’t it be so much fun to be a mom?”  But this letter reminded me that cute babies turn into egotistical, irrational, LUNATIC teenagers that are capable of speaking.  No babies for this girl.  Crisis averted.

Did you drive your parents crazy? Tell me how in the comments section!

Marcel the Shell…with shoes on

Here is a little peek inside my sense of humor:

If you have not yet seen Marcel the Shell with Shoes On Pt 1 and Pt 2, here they are.  Brought to you by the very funny former SNL-er Jenny Slate, I give you the funniest shell I have seen all year.

Part 1

Favorite line:  “Compared to what?”

Part 2

Favorite line: “Read on!”