13 Hybrid Animals you’d want to be if you were
very silly, or just really, really high.

1. Wholphins

False Killer Whale + Bottlenosed Dolphin=Even FALSER killer whale.

Half Whale, Half Dolphin. Kinda like that kid in the front row of math class - Really smart, but a bit of a weight problem.

False Killer Whale: "Hey Baby, I have NEVER seen a bottlenosed hottie like you!

2. Oak Tree Hybrids

Nature’s tree-trollop mates with anything. Species-namers commonly joke about not being able to keep up. You probably remember all those “oak trees are such whores!” jokes whizzing around the internet.

I am so freakin' horny. Hey you! Grass! Yeah you... that's quite a blade you have there, Sugar...

3. Liger

Liger – Lion & Tiger (oh my). Largest cat in the world. Except maybe that thing Abby from Abby Has Issues just adopted. BA DUM DUM! (kitty ain’t bitty).

Jungle Island, an interactive animal theme park in Miami, is home to a liger named Hercules, the largest non-obese  liger (<—I like the way Wikipedia adds that “non-obese” bit in there.The other FAT liger says F-YOU, WIKI!). Hercules is recognized by the Guinness Book of World Records as the largest living cat on Earth, weighing over 904lbs. Or in Charlie Sheen-speak, about a weekend of pussy.

HIM: ROWR! I'm a tiger! No wait! Look! ROWRR! I'm a Lion! HER: Whatever. Either way you're a douche, Martin.

4. Leopon

Lion and Leopard (apparently Lions get around, but really, who’s going to stop hybrid animals that can eat you.)

Sure I'm FAB-U-LOUS! But it isn't easy with every Housewife of NJ trying to turn me into a coat/purse ensemble.

5. Zebroids

 Zonkey (Zebra/Donkey), Zorse (Zebra/Horse) and Zony (Zebra/Pony).

Zebroid hybrid animals are the offspring of zebras and any other equines, like horses, a donkeys or Tori Spelling.

A Zonkey - the offspring of a slumming zebra with low self-esteem. But ya gotta dig the leg warmers - Jennifer Beals eat your heart out - What a Feeling!

6. Green Sea Slug

Hybrid Animals so green Al Gore claimed he invented them.

Slug & Plant. Green sea slugs are hybrid animals because they taught themselves to produce their own chlorophyll. Basically, it kept stealing plant characteristics until it practically became the plant, just like your roommate in college with no knowledge of The Grateful Dead suddenly started following Phish around the country after she met that guy in the tie-dye tee. When mothers say “You can grow up to be anything you want, sweetheart!” they’re usually hoping you move UP the food chain.

It's easy being green... for ME. Suck it, Kermit.

7. Pizzlies (Grolars)

Grizzly Bears + Polar Bears = Coca Cola commercial that kills you.

I thought this Pizzlie was SO cool I immediately shot it dead!

8. Beefalo

Cow & Bison (Double your subfamily “Bovinae,” double your Whopper.)

Beefalo, or B.A.C. (Big Ass Cow). Kind of like my Aunt Dot but more tastefully dressed (she looked more like the Leopon).

9. Mules

Horse + Donkey.

Ok, so not a real "mule" but mules are just horses with big ears and this is SO much cuter.

10. Geep

Sheep & Goat (A Shoat is already a young pig, so you have to go Geep. Plus, it just sounds cooler.)

Sure you could count sheep, but why not count Geep? Oh. Because they freak you out. Fair enough.

11. Cama

Camel + Llama

I’ve said it before, but I’m pretty sure Llamas and alpacas are aliens living among us. First they mate with camels… then Marlboros… then HUMANS.

Oh, and Soylent Green is PEOPLE!

Whaddyou lookin' at, Earthling? I got the butt-lift, now I just need the nose job and I will BE YOU.

12. Savannah Cat

Savannah cat is the offspring of a domestic cat and a serval—a medium-sized, large-eared wild African cat. These hybrid animals weight 20lbs or more, but it’s their stunning length that catches the eye.  I’m not a huge cat fan, but I gotta say, a cat that could walk around in my robe is pretty impressive.

Mind if I hop into your jeans and go get a tuna fish sandwich?

13. Repubocrat

Some hybrid animals almost look human. Liberal pundit James Carville, married Republican political pundit Mary Matalin. They produced two female Repubocrats, which surprisingly, look almost normal. Surprising not because their parents are from diffent parties, but because Dad is James Carville, a post-molt snake.  The daughters aren’t holding dogs, they’re holding LUNCH. Let’s look away before they detach their jaws…

First Published in Defenestration

It’s so cute, the way your little Jessica jumps for the bow in my Chloe’s hair. Jessica has good taste, I can tell you that! Jessica is…what?  Three?  Oh, she’s four? So is my Chloe! They must be in the same class at Key School! No? Not in school?  Oh. Well, Jessica’s only four. I understand. Chloe’s been in school since birth, but she’s 98th percentile in “attention adaptability” so we feel it would be irresponsible NOT to keep her away at school most of the time. They charge us four times as much, but it’s worth every penny.

Yes, she is quite large for her age. Funny story about that…As a baby Chloe clamped on to me and we couldn’t detach her for six days. Had to pry her little gums open with a pair of silver ice tongs and a car jack. But there’s a bright side! We’re sure that incident accounts for her 99^th percentile score in “atypical evolution progression,” and it saves so much money being able to share clothes with her. Thousands, really.

Whoops! Looks like Chloe’s lodged in the slide tube! Oh don’t worry, she’s broken free of much stronger materials than that — there she goes. Told you. Nothing to worry about at all.

I just wanted to thank you for inviting Chloe to Jessica’s birthday party. We’ve never been to a place like this before. We had Chloe’s fourth birthday at the Hilton, but it was a mistake, I’ll tell you. The shrimp was room temperature. Horrible. Chloe’s 97th percentile in “environmental sensitivity,” so it was pretty upsetting for her. The party had an Egyptian archaeology theme, and between the warm shrimp and King Tut showing up two hours late, the man playing the mummy should have known better than to chase her like he did. Even so, we offered to pay for all his medical expenses. Your party is nice and simple. No elaborate sarcophagi. It’s just that Chloe is 95th percentile in “anatomical mania” and she’s always had a love for old bones. Any remains, really. When her Nana died we couldn’t pry her away from the casket. We had to grease her hands with dish soap and get the funeral director to help pull. She SO curious!

What’s that? Licking the wall? Oh, Chloe’s testing the chemical composition of the felt. She’s 93rd percentile in “sensory audaciousness,” that’s how I know. She uses 100% of her senses for everything. It can be very exciting.

Look! Now my Chloe’s trying to bury your Jessica in the plastic ball pit! How wonderful of Jessica to assist Chloe with her relentless experimentation. Adorable. There’s your little Jessica now! —oh, never mind, she’s down again. Would you like some gum? I had to dig through all of Chloe’s Chess Participation ribbons, but I found my pack. Chloe’s 96th percentile in “square identification” so chess was a no-brainer. On her personal chess set she snapped the head off the king and queen to promote sexual equality. She’s quite the little activist! We’re not sure what eating the pawns represents; something to do with the role of the proletariat.

So, anyway, we must get going. Chloe is 92nd percentile in “pattern consistency” and if we don’t keep her on a tight schedule she gets pretty creative with her hair. Our gift is on the pile; it’s the one wrapped in organic natural fiber paper with Chloe’s art in red marker, right there on the left. You’ll know Chloe’s paper! She’s 94th percentile in “creative defacement” and designed it herself as a surprise when we left it unattended on the table.  I’m pretty sure she tested its chemical composition as well, so I apologize if it is a little damp.

Happy birthday to little Jessica. I’m sure we’ll see her in school when she catches up! Ciao!

The Girl Who Bounced

There once was a girl who bounced,
Off the horse, to ground, she flounced!
But she didn’t stay there
She flew up in the air
And back on the horse she pounced!

Well, I guess it is more of a limerick without anything that rhymes with “uck.”

This friend reminded me that we used to write brilliant poetry when we were young. Like her surprise-ending Spring sensation:

Spring Spring

Spring, spring,
What a wonderful thing!
Birds sing!
Bells ring!
People bring
Ling Ling
The Panda
Food.

Nobody saw that coming.

I penned the Blues classic:

There’s a Stone in my Shoe

There’s a stone in my shoe
I don’t know what I’ll do
There’s a stone in my shoe
I think I’ll name it after you
Because it does nothing but bring me pain….
and it seems you’re doing just the same…
There’s a stone in my shoe
I think I’ll name it after you
Baby.

And together, we birthed the rap sensation:

TOMATOES! (They’re the way to be)

TOMATOES!
They’re the way to be
If you don’t like Tomatoes don’t talk to me!
I go by the name of  Master S-U-E
And I rap better than AMY

Now listen up brothers, mums and kin
If you think Sue’s better than it’s a SIN
And tomatoes? WHAT? They’re so gay
MEATLOAF RULES on this fine day 
And in case you didn’t know my names AV
I tell you I’m shreddin’ – Can’t you see?

Whatcha sayin’ meatloaf?
You are a big  joke
Tomatoes are the real thing
Better than a Ring Ding

Brrrha-ha-ha-ha TOMATOES! 

If you like tomatoes better then it’s your loss
How about meatloaf with tomato sauce?

Yeah Bud! That’s the answer!
I never could sing but I am a dancer!

Rappin’s where’s it’s at, wouldn’t you say?
We’re gonna Brrha-ha-ha our lives away!

I think the Fat Boys Brahahaha “Human Beat Box” additions are what catapulted it straight to the top of the charts.

How ONE of us isn’t poet laureate by now, I do not know.

It particularly interested me, because I was suffering the same problem. I’m not every-day-happenings blogger, I don’t have a particular theme, I’m not political/relationship/fashion/food/mommy oriented, so I don’t really have a focus audience.  Blah blah blah.

So, I started a new project! And I’d really love it if some of my bloggy-friends and/or readers would help!

The new blog is at http://www.lifessuggestionbox.com.

Here’s the idea:

1. Visitors/readers submit story ideas, usually in the form of a complaint.

For example:

My boyfriend always uses the last of the toilet paper and NEVER replaces it!!!

2. The writers pen a witty story/response.

Once they submit the idea, the suggestion goes into The Box where the writers live. They write a humorous story/response to this person’s problem in the hopes of being fed a tuna fish sandwich and vodka. Your story is then posted on the site for all to enjoy.

Why this is fun for readers/visitors:

1. You get to complain about things and force trapped writers to turn your moaning into a fun and funny story.

2. You can send a link to this story to someone else, ANONYMOUSLY if you like. This person might be the victim (the person that pisses you off), or a friend who you know feels the same way so the two of you can titter like school girls over your inside joke. We know how you are.

3. Some stories are turned into tee shirts which would make fun, super-personalized gifts. If you want to ensure your story is created, or that it is private (not posted on the site) or SUPER personal (i.e. this is why my wife, Susan Smith is a dweeb) you can request that as well.

Imagine a baby shower, for example, where every girl got a t-shirt complaining about a particular baby annoyance. Or a bachelorette party where every girl had the story of something goofy they did on the back. You get the idea.

4. You can trap cute people. If you stand near a cute person in a bar, they’ll HAVE to start reading this fascinating tee shirt. Then you can turn and tell them what it is all about and gather enough information to stalk them.

Why writers should participate:

1. You can whine/solve your own problems (or ask to view the list of problems waiting for stories.)

2. Not everyone will be published – there is a little team of “Yea” or “Nayers” who decided if a bit is funny enough for the site, so it is a challenge too. Any old crap I write is published though, so don’t bother pointing out how your stuff was better than mine. I know.

2. You get your stuff posted somewhere other than your own blog. Not that you don’t already, but all links back to your blog are good in the eyes of Google. Writers are credited and links back to their blogs/emails provided at the top of each post.

3. If your story is turned into a tee shirt, you’ll get a cut anytime one is sold. Not totally sure what the margin is on this yet… probably like $4-5.

And probably all sorts of other things I haven’t thought of yet.

Any ideas/thoughts/suggestions/comments welcome!

First published in The Yellow Ham

Was “execute the perfect practical joke” on your bucket list? If so, congratulations! Head straight to ‘swimming with dolphins’ and pack your bags for Machu Picchu. Really, I’m honored you chose me as an integral part of reaching your goal. I’m only sorry you couldn’t be there for the hilarity that ensued when I opened that Styrofoam container and saw dried grapes dotting my “plain” bagels like a festive smattering of rat turds.

My first thought was: “Did I order a raisin bagel?” I knew I didn’t, of course, but I was SO tired from being up all night. Really, it took all my energy to drag myself to your neon-orange doorstep and order those plain bagels to-go.  I wouldn’t have expended the effort, except the man holding my family hostage said if I fetched some plain bagels he would set us free. Tying us up had left him peckish. Then he rambled on, something about his mother.  I thought it best not to probe, what with him already threatening to disembowel us with our own cutlery.

You know what he mentioned hating, besides his mother? RAISIN BAGELS. Which is what made it so deliciously ironic that you took it upon yourself to pack me bagels of that variety. Especially after I ordered: “Plain bagels, please.” Remember that part? Where I walked in the store and said, “Two bagels please, just plain old bagels, not toasted or anything, just plain with cream cheese on the side?”  Of course you do. I said the word “plain” three times, so you were spot on giving me the raisin bagels. SO much funnier.

How many people are presented with the opportunity to achieve their goal, and actually reach up to snatch the brass ring the way you did? Bravo, my good lady. Slow clap. Even as I hear our intruder smashing through my grandmother’s china, plate by plate, in an irrational and surely meth-fueled rage, I have to be impressed with your quick thinking. When faced with the decision between giving me what I ordered, or mixing things up and creating a refreshing air of unpredictability, you took the path less traveled.

Maybe you were distracted by the note I slipped you? The one that said “help call police” written in my own blood?  I think not. It’s been nearly an hour since then and still, no police. Clearly, your mind was on the task at hand: ridding yourself of two pesky raisin bagels. Maybe you’ll slip MY plain ones to someone who orders pumpernickel? I only wish I could stick myself to one of your booths and observe someone trying to order an “everything” bagel.  Your chances for whimsy are almost endless, really, and we weren’t fond of the family goldfish anyway.

No, you were every bit the architect of this monkeyshine and it is impossible to think otherwise. You know what else is impossible? Picking raisins out of a bagel. Particularly, when a desperate man is waving a potato peeler in your face. No matter how frantically you pluck at those rubbery little hides, pesky raisins insist on leaving behind dark pits that can’t be mistaken for anything other than sad little raisin graves. Much like the ones our visitor had us dig in the backyard last night.

Moments ago, as I watched our assailant smear his face with my best makeup, preparing to play both the part of his mother and himself in a sure to be Tony-nominated one-man show, I just had to marvel at the ripening genius of your practical joke.

Want to know the best part? Our new friend shares your sense of humor! When I last saw him, he was gathering all the raisins I had so carefully dissected from the bagels and balancing them on my family’s heads.  Apparently, if they let any fall to the ground, there will be “consequences.” I don’t know what that means, but I am confident it will be chock with side-splitting jocularity!

So, all that being said, I’m wondering…

Could I get a couple of plain bagels, cream cheese on the side?