New York Times Best Boob Is Too A Thing

I know some Jennys. One lives near me, and we amuse each other greatly. Occasionally we amuse other people. 

Last week we made the trek to Corte Madera to see our other friend, also a Jenny, at her book signing because, HOLY FUCK WE HAVE A FRIEND WHO WROTE A REAL LIVE READABLE BOOK. Also, we love her. And it's rare to see this particular Jenny outside of a bathroom.

Waiting to get my book signed by Jenny.

Seriously. It is. That's where I first met her. In a bathroom. It's less abnormal the longer you know her. I've now spent more time with her in a bathroom than out, I think, and this seems completely normal to me.

Private Party with The Bloggess

Hanging with @TheBloggess and my girl. #awesome

Anyway, when Jenny and I got back from seeing Jenny at the book signing, we sat down to make a video homage to our friend, her book (Let's Pretend This Never Happened: (A Mostly True Memoir), and our road trip, but this happened instead. 

 

I think Jenny will understand. Also, you should totally buy Jenny's book because The Bloggess is a seriously funny person, and it turns out that we aren't the only two people on the planet who think this. (You need to understand that this totally makes my autographed boob incredibly important by association, like New York Times Book List important. That's really important. That's more important than that stupid Who's Who crap they try to get you to pay for in high school, which it turns out is just a giant scam that anyone can do, so I'm glad I didn't do it.)

Taking my @TheBloggess boob to the pool. As you do.

Oh, and Jenny is one of the few people who spells my name correctly. I think that's important in a friendship.

Finally, somebody spelled my name correctly. Figures it'd be @TheBloggess

 

Getting Rich One Poop Joke At A Time

Since my kids' educational IRAs have plummeted along with the rest of our investments, the only hope we really have of making a sudden mountain o' cash rests on a one-liner I have featured in Nick Douglas' book, Twitter Wit, which came out today.

51FY3K0QNXL._SL160_ Whether you're looking for something to read on the shitter, stuff in your loved one's stocking, or give to that family member who needs to grow a sense of humor, Twitter Wit is the book for you. With over 600 witticisms of 140 characters or fewer (I can't say "less" I just can't), there's sure to be something to please even that ol' codger down at the Five and Dime.

Plus, who doesn't want the opportunity to knock Glenn Beck's ass off the New York Times Best Seller List this week? Huh? That should be incentive, enough. (Sorry, Dad, I know you love the guy, but you love me more.)

So, hop to it kids. Grab your copies of Twitter Wit. For the price of a slab of meat, you can be the proud owner of your very own pet Twitter Wit.

Not sure who needs a copy of Twitter Wit? Let me help you out:

  • your shrink
  • Johnny's kindergarten teacher
  • your hairdresser
  • the hobo on Market St., okay ALL the hobos
  • librarians
  • the bus driver (to read while he's NOT driving, duh!)
  • your barista
  • your boss (but just slip it into the ol' office mail anonymously)
  • the staff lounge
  • the office shitter
  • the receptionist who puts up with greeting your cranky ass every day
  • the pizza delivery dude
  • the WalMart greeter
  • anyone hooked up to an IV
  • anyone with something stuck up their butt involuntarily
  • bald people
  • people who need to get laid
  • people in chronic pain (trust me, it makes us cranky)
  • caregivers
  • the terminally ill
  • your mama
  • hos, but not pimps. pimps are assholes.
  • anyone working for The Man
  • Santa (leave it out with a beer and salami sandwich)
Smooches, pooches!

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