پاکستان میں Mostbet com ویب سائٹ ملاحظہ کریں، اور آپ یقینی طور پر کھیلوں پر شرط لگانے یا آن لائن کیسینو میں کھیلنے کے لیے یہاں واپس آنا چاہیں گے۔ کھیلوں کے شائقین کو ایونٹس کے ایک بڑے انتخاب، مختلف پروموشنز اور بونسز، مفت بیٹس، مفت گھماؤ اور زیادہ مشکلات تک رسائی حاصل ہے۔ اور کھیل کو مزید آسان بنانے کے لیے، ہم نے ایک موبائل ایپلیکیشن تیار کی ہے جسے آپ آسانی سے اپنے فون پر انسٹال کر سکتے ہیں۔

Free Advice Friday! All your questions answered! Ok, not really.

It’s Friday, and you know what that means…free advice that you can’t (but probably should) live without! You’re welcome.

But first, Brian and I are leaving for vacation today, so yesterday was spent waxing my bikini area and preparing our house & children for the grandparents’ arrival. This. took. all. freaking. day. Oddly, the house doesn’t look any different…but my bikini area could be picked out of a line up!

Dear Potential burglars,

FYI, our house is not vacant, it’s filled to the brim with extended family and outdated electronics. Plus there’s always Mr.Bojangles…

Aww, I think he likes you!
Oh, and he has a case of the shits, so you’d probably leave a crappy footprint behind that the police would use for suspect identification.

If you don’t heed my warning, I suggest you get a good steam cleaner and a better lawyer.

Love, Kim

So I’m sure you’ll understand it when I say, “Sorry, but I didn’t have time to write my Free Advice Friday post” (imagine my sad face here).

But not wanting to leave you hanging, I asked my bloggy friend Jenn, from Something Clever 2.0, to give us some of her awesomely funny advice. Don’t worry, it’s still free.

You remember Jenn, she also covered my ass on a Cheapo Wino Wednesday, and rocked it!

Thanks Jenn, I’ll have a margarita or four for you!

____________

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If you are a regular reader of two other blogs besides this one, you may be familiar with my guest post on The Sadder But Wiser Girl, “Google Has the Questions, Jenn Has the Answers.” Or maybe not. It’s not important. You can go read it later.

What you need to know is that Google sometimes asks me for advice. I’ll pull up my favorite search tool to ask it what time a movie starts, or why I can’t put onion skins in the garbage disposal, and as soon as I start typing, I’m bombarded with a thousand voices pleading for my help. I like to give back when I can, so here are some real questions that Google has asked me, and my straight-talk.

Who vs. whom? The Who are an English band that has been rocking your face off since 1964. The Whom are a Who cover band whose Facebook page has been inactive for three years. The Whose are not a band at all.

When is Easter? The day before Cadbury Crème Eggs go on clearance.

Where did the Easter bunny come from? Either a rabbit uterus or a chicken egg. I’m not entirely clear on that. I’m sorry I could be more helpful. Maybe you should have started looking into this last month. Easter is over.

Why is Venus so hot? Because you have an amputee fetish, I guess. Why do I get all the weirdos?

Where’s Waldo? 44.5125° N, 69.0767° W

What’s the word? The bird.

Why is a manhole cover round? You just failed your interview. The point of that question is that you try to answer it.

How would I look with bangs? Not like Zooey Deschanel, I’m afraid. I know you think you will, but trust me, you won’t.

Where did you go Bernadette? I assume you’re referring to American treasure Bernadette Peters, who has most recently been appearing on the NBC show “Smash,” which may be cancelled. Well, friend, I can’t tell you what her next project will be, but if you’re itching for some Bernadette, you really must see the 1981 robot rom-com “Heatbeeps,” in which she stars opposite Andy Kaufman. Truly her finest work.

Why do I fart so much? You’re probably eating really healthy food. Or really unhealthy food. I wouldn’t know, because I only eat Goldfish crackers and wine, so I never fart. Don’t worry, though, Kim’s already covered that.

What are capers? They’re very similar to hijinks.

Where’s the beef? According to Wikipedia, Clara Peller, the “Where’s the beef?” lady, passed away in August of 1987, and was interred at Waldheim Cemetery in Forest Park, IL. I would assume the beef is still in her colon.

Why would you drink butter? Honey, why wouldn’t you?

What did Jesus look like? Since you failed to include a last name, I’m not sure if you’re referring to Jesus Jones or Jesus from The Big Lewboski. One had a stupid hat, and the other looked exactly like John Turturro. I hope that helps.

Who unfollowed me? Probably a #bestselling #awardwinning #mompreneur who was trying to sell you something. Try not to take it personally.

Where will you be when diarrhea strikes? Is that a threat? Have you done something to my food? Who is this??

Why is the ocean salty? I won’t tell you here, because this is a family blog, but here’s a hint: Google “blue whale 35 pints.”

 

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Free Advice Friday! What NOT to bring on a romantic vacation.

Dear Kim,

My husband and I are going to Mexico on our first “adults only” vacation since our kids were born. I’m so excited! I don’t even know what I should pack to make this a special and romantic trip. Do you have any advice?

Por Favor,

Judy

 

 

Dear Judy,

That’s wonderful! I believe that trips, without the children, are necessary for the preservation of the marital relationship. In fact, I used to advise my clients…wait…did I ever mention that I was a marriage counselor for a few weeks?

It was shortly after my WTF greeting card company folded, and I desperately needed some dough for my cat’s third anal cyst surgery. I thought to myself, “Sugar Lips (positive self talk), how can I get Mr. Bojangles to stop licking her ass?” and more importantly, “How am I going to pay for this surgery?”. Then it occurred to me, “I’m married, I have a Bachelors degree in psychology- why not be a marriage counselor?!”

Having just spent a shitload of money on business cards and letterhead for my greeting card company, I decided to name my practice “WTF Greetings Marriage Counseling”. Admittedly, the name created a bit of a buzz in our small Baptist community. And not the good kind of buzz. But I think it was my philosophy that eventually won over the church ladies: “Husbands, admit you’re wrong and you’ll both get along!”

Unfortunately, I believe it was my hours (MWF 2pm-3:45pm) that really killed my business. But hey, Guiding Light wasn’t going to watch itself.

I’m sorry Judy, I seem to have gone off topic. It happens.

Anyway, I’m not going to give you advice on what to pack, instead I’m going to give you advice on a few things NOT to pack. Trust me, this is going to save you embarrassment, money, and time. But mostly embarrassment.

1. Lavender scented bath salts– I don’t care if your pedicure lady swears it’s a “sexy aphrodisiac” for your hotel jacuzzi. Guess what, Xiaoling, customs thought your “sexy aphrodisiac” was a bag of sweet smelling cocaine and they were way too eager to see if I had more.

Riddle: What do customs and dentists have in common? Cavity searches, Xiaoling, cavity searches.

2. Sex toys & kinky lingerie – Whatever you’re into, keep that shit at home! And if you’re traveling internationally…forget it! They’ll open your suitcase in front of the whole plane and toss that crap around like it’s a damn Caesar salad, using “Judy’s lube” as the dressing. *traveler’s tip: hair conditioner and his electric toothbrush will do in a pinch.

3. Sneakers – Hahaha! Pahleeese! Your ass isn’t working out! Save the luggage space for a sombrero and some maracas.

4. A screwdriver– Don’t ask. just know mine was confiscated.

5. Sweet pics of your kids – Ugh. I guarantee, after 3 margaritas and a Kamikaze chaser, you’ll take one look at those “cherubs” in the photo and call home drunk. And during your drunken “I miz my baaabies” conversation, you’ll say something stupid like “Lawd knows, I didn’t mean to gets knocked up wid you, but I’m soooo glad I did!” Trust me, Judy, that phone call was nothing but a big fat therapy bill.

 

Judy, I hope you take my advice to heart. Remember, you can always buy something you forgot, but you can never forget anything you brought.

 

Adios!

Kim

 

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Free Advice Friday! Pushing up Daisies

Dear Kim,

This is a time sensitive question that I hope you can help me with. My neighbors are currently on a two week vacation, and just last night my dog (Muglie) dug up ALL of their daisies on the side of their house. Normally I wouldn’t be too concerned but they already hate Muglie because he ate their pet bunny last year. Though I really couldn’t blame him, it’s not like Flopsy was wearing a collar or anything. I’m just not sure how to handle the situation because I need to get along with these people.

 

Sincerely,

Flowerless Francine

 

 

Dear Francine,

 

I could simply tell you what to do OR I could rehash a little story, alluding to my advice. I’m going to go ahead and assume you prefer the latter…

About 20 years ago, I was dating this really great guy named Doug. Not only was he sensitive and a great dresser, but he was manager of the Candy Kitchen where I worked and nominated twice for their prestigious “Fudge Packer of the Year” award.

Well one night, after watching one of Doug’s favorite musicals, “Miss Saigon”, he turned to me and said we had to break up. No real explanation and no clues as to why! All I got was a simple “Kim, I’m gay”. But I already knew he was a happy person and I loved him for it…what did that have to do with anything?

Sad and confused, I jumped into my Dodge Daytona and headed home. Through my tears, I didn’t notice the possum crossing the dark road until he became my furry, squishy speed bump. OH NO! Up until that point, I had never hit another living thing…except for Charlotte Morgan…with my fist…on the playgroup – bitch tried jumping in on my double dutch!

I pulled my car over and got out, intending to give it CPR (You laugh, but I saved my cat, Danny, the year before, when we accidentally overdosed him with tranquilizers for traveling purposes).

As I stood over the possum’s body, gathering my wits about me, it occurred to me that he might be playing possum. I mean, that’s how they got their name, right? What if I bent down to give him CPR and he went batshit crazy, wrapping his little paws around my head and chewing my face off?

I ran back to my car for a flashlight, I wanted to see if this tricky little bastard was still breathing. As I was rooting around in my car, this huge truck came barreling down the street and ran right over Pickles (yeah, I gave him a name)! Pickles came spitting out of the rear tires and flipped in the air twice before landing at my feet. I was pretty sure he was definitely dead. Ain’t no CPR bringing him back. Change of plans.

So I started looking around my car again for something I could use to dig a 12″ x 12″ grave. I found a 7-11 Big Gulp cup and started chipping away at the earth. Did I mention it was winter? Yeah, the ground was like a rock and my plastic cup wasn’t making a dent.

Plan B: I went back into my disgusting “Mary Poppins” trunk and pulled out a guy’s XXL Hanes undershirt. WTF? Where did that come from? Anyway, I dragged Pickles into the grass and covered him with the white t-shirt like we were in some outdoor morgue, and I said a few words. Then I wrote a note. For whom? I’m not sure… the sanitation workers, Pickles’ family, my conscious?

 

To Whom it May Concern,

 

Pickles’ last moments were filled with joy and laughter. Just before I struck him with my car, he was dancing in the road without a care in the world. Perhaps if he were paying attention, none of this would have happened. But I digress.

(*in hindsight, I don’t recommend blaming the victim)

I want you to know that his death was quick and he certainly didn’t suffer…unless he was playing possum when was hit again by that Chevy Pick-Up truck with the snow tires, in which case “yikes”.

He was given a proper burial Hanes T-shirt and I spoke words of kindness during a short service (my speech assumed he was a good father and charitable within his community).

Please know that he was cared for in his last moments, and that I kept the foxes from taking his entire carcass away so that you may have some closure.

 

Sincerely,

A concerned and negligent citizen

 

So Francine, I think you know what you have to do….try digging a hole and sticking the daisies back in the ground. If that doesn’t work, then cover them up with a t-shirt and leave an anonymous apology note. And Francine, don’t screw it up, make sure it can’t be traced back to Muglie.

 

Good luck with that,

Kim

 

 

 

 

 

 

Free advice Friday! Imaginary Friends

 

Dear Kim,

My 3 year old daughter has an imaginary friend named Macy Jo. It wouldn’t bother me, but recently she’s been blaming Macy Jo for things that she’s done. And on top of that, she throws tantrums when I put her in time out and not Macy Jo. She says Macy Jo doesn’t like me. What should I do?

Please help!

Ima in Imaginary Hell

 

 

Dear Ima,

Look Ima, I’m no child psychologist, and what I advise might create some trauma that might require therapy when she’s older, but here it is anyway: break that friendship up! However, before you do, make sure that Macy Jo is really an imaginary friend and not a ghost. No, really- because if she’s a ghost and you start talking smack about her…well shit might get all Amityville up in there and I won’t be coming to dinner.

All I’m saying is, don’t assume that she’s making this person up without some sort of investigation. Ima, let me tell you a story about what can happen when you take things at face value (spoiler: I save the day)…

I used to work with this really nice guy named Larry. Poor Larry was going through a real rough patch. He came home one day to find that his wife Gladys had packed up all the TV’s, her Precious Moments figurines, their poodle Sassy, and ran away to Clearwater, Florida with their dry cleaner Bernie. How did he know where she went? Well, she was kind enough to leave him a note written on the back of a “10% off your Dry Cleaning” coupon. While thoughtful, the discount was of little consolation to Larry.

With no wife, no dog, no TV, the house was very lonely and quiet. Not long after his wife left him, Larry confided in me that he was hearing voices, but only when he was home alone. I asked him what they were saying to him, but he said that they seemed to be talking only to one another, mostly arguing and bickering. Understanding the trauma he’d been through, I suggested that he talk to someone, a therapist. And so Larry saw a doctor by the name of Wong, Dr. Wut Wong.

Dr. Wong tried everything, from stress reduction techniques to medications, but Larry still heard the voices when he was home. Finally, the doctor suggested that Larry check himself into a mental institution for a month and work on his “issues” through a combination of drug, individual, group, equestrian, and macaroni art therapy. Desperate, Larry agreed.

The morning he was to be admitted, he woke up and heard the voices. After his shower, he heard the voices. As he packed his suitcase, he heard the voices.

“LEAVE ME ALONE!”, he screamed.

Then he went into the basement to turn down the water heater, and he heard the voices again…only this time they were louder. And in the dark basement, across the room, he saw what appeared to be a glowing red eye staring back at him! He frantically reached for the light switch, flipped it on…and saw Gladys’…………old clock radio tuned to WNPR Talk.

“DAMN YOU, GLADYS!!! GOD DAMN YOU!!!”

So, how did I save the day? I’m the one who told Larry to turn his water heater down before leaving the house, that’s just homeowner’s 101 right there. Yes, you could argue that I’m also the one who told him to see the therapist, but whatever- it all worked out.

Ima, it boils down to this, I need you to make sure Macy Jo isn’t a ghost, or a radio, before I waste my time in giving you some bad advice. I’m not having that happen twice!

 

I’ll be waiting to hear from you,

Kim

 

P.S. I don’t perform exorcisms.

 

 

 

 

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