Soccer Moms, Kiss Kaskets, Thieves and Eggs

The best part of my day thus far, granted I had been up for about an hour at this point, was watching one of my soccer moms SPRINTING to class. I was walking behind her at quite a distance and here comes Donna (such a soccer mom name). No backpack, just a fucking stack of books in her arms, sprinting the best way a soccer mom knows how: the penguin waddle in overdrive.

Forget important news articles, like global warming, a toilet bowl economy and war. The news article that caught my attention was that Galveston has most of the washed-away caskets found! Some of the quotes were super grim, like "Mom came out for Rita and then Ike." or "We found her casket floating about 22 miles away." Gross. Even more gross is that I decided to look up 'coffins' on Wikipedia. (Enriching my life on the history of coffins, I guess.) I came across this link, for the KISS® Kasket. Dimebag Darrell was buried in one. And if you don't feel like burying your loved one in it, you can use it as a cooler, "enabling fans and their friends to enjoy ice-cold sodas and beer served directly from the ice-filled, completely waterproof KISS® Kasket." All I have to say is thank God. I was really worried about where to put my beverages when my guests come over or where my body is going to be stored after I peace out. Two birds with one stone, I say!

An 89 year old woman was arrested last week for keeping a kid's football after it went into her yard. She's being charged with petty theft and could face up to six months' jail time or up to a $1000 fine. I say more power to you. Those whippersnappers and their crazy backyard games messing up your garden! Anyone else feel like starting a 'Free Grandma' campaign?

So times are tough and everyone knows it. Whenever I think about my money problems, I usually try to cash in a few pop bottles, get a dollar and buy Ramen for lunch. (By the way, I say 'Rah-men'. Others say 'Ray-men.' Which one is it? Is it a tomayto-tomahto-type deal?) When I really get down, I think about my life as a stripper and how baller I would be. (Dude, one good weekend and it's bye bye credit card debt! I would make it rain on them hoes! Then I would stop and go 'Wow I'm a stripper' and then probably cry a little bit, wiping my tears with a Benjamin.)

And then there was today. One of my sisters and I were discussing the possibility of egg donation. Serious BALLER cash in there; all I'd have to do was get injected with hormones for a month and have a little surgery. (Shit, at this point, I probably won't need them.) What's weird is how it differs for men. With guys it's like 20 bucks, cup, dirty mag, skeet skeet, and you're done. With women you have to have a psychological evaluation, a physical, a month's worth of stretchy pants, blablabla. Dude, just scrape it out and give me my couple G's. (Yeah, anywhere between 2500 and 5000 per cycle for typical ones, but some may pay upwards of 50,000 dollars! For eggs!! Shiiiit.)

Yeah, I might spend the rest of my life wondering "Is there a kid out there that is genetically mine?" But not really. I also don't think I would tell many people, just because they would ask me questions and then make me question the whole thing. And you're not really supposed to do it for the money. So I should do it for the love of surgery? Anesthesia? Being hormonal? That's like asking a stripper not to strip for the money. "Oh I just love taking my clothes off and expressing myself in a nude and erotic fashion." We ultimately decided against it, but it's something to consider.