How to Extract a Nipple

You may be under the impression that you are about to get detailed directions on the mechanics of breastfeeding, but you would be wrong. I know nothing about breastfeeding and cannot speculate as to how or why it is done. However, if you have a rogue sprinkler that is spewing water all over everything but your lawn, you may be in the market for a nipple extraction, whether you know it or not.

When one of my sprinklers decided that its purpose would be better served by erratically watering my lawn furniture, the side of my house, and occasionally, my unsuspecting dog. I did what most girls would do in my situation. I glared at it from the other side of my sliding glass door, called it a bastard, and when the coast was clear, I stomped furiously on it. When all of these obviously brilliant tactics failed, I called my dad.

He arrived shortly after, toolbox in hand and superhero cape blowing majestically in the wind. He assessed the situation, finding that the sprinkler head was no longer attached to whatever sprinkler heads usually find themselves attached to. He dug a sizeable hole, but quickly discovered that the thing below (note that I have absolutely no knowledge of sprinkler terminology) was a worthy adversary. He announced that a trip to Home Depot was in order.

While he was gone, a standoff developed in which my dog switched between eyeing the hole longingly and staring spitefully at me as if to say, "I've lived here for two freaking years and you have never, NEVER let me dig the hole I wanted to dig back here, but this guy is here for two seconds and he gets to dig a hole?!? I hate you."

To my relief, my dad returned quickly and the tension between my dog and I dissipated. Apparently, this is the answer to taming a problematic sprinkler:

Here are my step-by-step instructions for extracting your own nipple:

Step 1) Print the above picture and show it to Home Depot employees until you have procured this item.

Step 2) Unwrap item, being sure to preserve the label in a safe spot as you will surely want to revisit it during drunken parties as a conversational piece.

Step 3) Things get a bit uncertain at this point. You probably need to dig some sort of hole until you unearth something that looks like it might be called a nipple. Once you have identified the potential nipple, extract it using your nipple extractor.


Tip: When utilizing the label as a conversational piece, be sure to point out the portion that reads 'Rigid teeth for even the toughest of nipples.'

Bonus tip: If you have a dog, consider allowing him to dig the hole for you. Trick him into thinking it was his idea all along to dig this hole. Not only will your dog think you are awesome, but you will save yourself the trip to the neighbor's house to borrow a shovel.

How to Forgo a Productive Life to Become a Blogger

Blogging is already opening up an array of opportunities for me to neglect customers at work, not wash my dishes, forget about pre-existing commitments, and to generally fail at everyday life.

Here's how you can emulate my sucess:


Step 1) Visit your blog obsessively to admire your lone post.

Step 2) Check the e-mail account that you created just for this occasion.

Step 3) Quickly cycle between shock, disappointment, and rage when you find your e-mail box to still be empty.

Step 4) Log on to StatCounter.com to see how many people have visited your blog.

Step 5) Become unjustifiably excited to see that your blog had 37 visitors today.

Step 6) Subtract the four people that you already bullied into reading your blog from your 37 visitors.

Step 7) Ponder who the remaining 33 visitors might be.

Step 8) Wonder if Bono googled himself and consequently stumbled upon your blog.

Step 9) Wonder if Bono told Leonardo DiCaprio about your blog.

Step 10) Regret not having your donate button installed yet so they could give you millions of dollars.

Step 11) Become severely distressed about the donate button situation.

Step 12) Take a mental health break from the computer, telling yourself that you will research the procurement of a donate button upon your return.

Step 13) Drink some iced tea.

Step 14) Return to computer.

Step 15) Forget what you were supposed to do when you got back.

Step 16) Resolve to admire your only blog post again.

Step 17) Repeat steps two through 16.


Because the steps are cyclical, you don't have to worry about actively trying to fail at life; it will come naturally.

I don't want to cause too much alarm or cause for concern amongst my four followers, so I assure you that I had some stunningly productive moments today that came as a shock even to me. I cooked a delicious omelet this morning and also came to the conclusion that, should I ever need to change my name for legal reasons, I would almost definitely change it to Princess Moonstar the Terrible.

On the downside, I expect my productivity levels to plummet drastically tomorrow as I will now have twice the number of blog posts to admire. I plan to adjust accordingly by cutting back my hours at work and switching to paper plates.


UPDATE: I have now received my first piece of fanmail to my new e-mail account, so all it right in the world and I am no longer filled with rage over that situation. Still working on the donate button though.

How to Attack a Bear

There seems to be a moderate amount of information available regarding the topic of avoiding or surviving bear attacks. The information below does not encompass that topic. Sometimes in life, you must be proactive. Instead of waiting around for a bear to attack you, find a bear and attack it first.

If any of my superiors at work have stumbled upon my blog, I would just like to say that the following is a complete work of fiction. I'll also add that the next paragraph holds no interest for you and you may skip ahead to paragraph three at this time.

For those of you whose income is not a direct result of delegating tedious tasks to me and eyeing me suspiciously when I burst into laughter because I'm watching "Charlie the Unicorn" on YouTube for the hundredth time instead of pretending to work, please note that the above statement is a lie and this is a factual account of the events that transpired today.

Sometimes, when I would rather dive headfirst into an empty riverbed teeming with hungry piranhas that have somehow evolved to live without water than acknowledge that I am trapped within the confines of my boring grey cubicle for the next eight hours, I desperately seek other sources of amusement. This occasionally includes researching and planning vacations that I may or may not ever actually take. Seduced by the idea of lying across a geyser as it erupts and rockets me into the air repeatedly (because they definitely allow you to engage in such activities), I began planning my trip to Yellowstone.

It didn't take long for me to realize that the regular campground is for the weak and unimpressive. They literally have an ice cream stand set up on the campground. If you only need to venture mere yards from your tent to procure an ice cream sandwich, you have failed as an outdoorsman. Bear Grylls would eat you for a mid-morning snack. Even if he was already full off the berries he extricated from some bear droppings, he would still eat you out of sheer spite.

While the regular campers lounge in the air-conditioned comfort of their RVs, peering out the tiny windows at the place where nature used to be until McDonalds chopped down all the trees and killed all the bunnies to erect a wilderness-inspired restaurant, the real badasses are roughing it in the back country. Of course, I want to count myself amongst the badasses.

Self-proclaimed badass I may be, but experienced camper I am not, so I left it in Google's hands to teach me everything I needed to know before my shift was over (because God knows that I will have lost all interest in this by tomorrow). True to form, Google provided endless knowledge on the subject, but I began to notice an underlying theme. It seems that there is something lurking in the wilderness of Yellowstone...something thirsting for human blood.

No, not Edward Cullen. Put your panties back on.

BEARS.

For most of my life, I have naively thought that bears were rather cute and relatively uninterested in humans, I even permitted their fluffy, plush cousins to reside in my bedroom as a child. I now realize that these soft, squishy effigies are just propaganda created by bears to disillusion the public into thinking that bears just want to be cuddled and loved and dressed up like ballerinas. In fact, they don't want any of those things to happen to them. They just want to rip off your flesh.

So, Google, how am I to deal with these truculent creatures? At first, Google suggested a slew of passive tactics aimed at keeping the bears at bay so that I could enjoy my travels through the park. Google didn't understand that this was no longer about nature hikes and fireside Kumbayas; this was about rising victorious against the bear race. After explaining this to Google, it offered one final solution: bear repellant.

'This is it.' I thought, 'This is how we win against the bears.' I clicked triumphantly on the link, but was met only by bold, red text.

One thing was clear - my employer is on the bear's side.

On an unrelated note, minutes later, I accidentally clicked on an advertisement touting discounted airfare and was redirected to a site offering scantily clad Eastern European women as mail-order brides that I had to frantically click out of and may be fired for tomorrow. Really, IT department? You were too lazy to block that site, but still bored enough to find and block a site about bear repellant. If I get fired for this, I'm punching each of you in the esophagus on my way out.

You may have won today, bears (with the help of the IT department), but I'm onto you. While we stand idly by, fretting over the national debt and gradual decline of talent on American Idol, blood-thirsty, maniacal bears are picking us off one by one. To protect the human race, we must launch a large-scale counterattack on the bears using the following steps:


Step 1) Realize that bears hate you.

Step 2) Discard any plush bears bears you have in your home, as they are spies.

Step 3) Find out if your employer is secretly working for the bears. Listen closely to water cooler gossip to determine if it contains any bear innuendos or randomly scream "Bear!" throughout the day and take note of people's reactions. If they don't seem terrified, they are probably a bear.

Step 4) Find a secure, private computer and order as much bear repellant as you can afford.

Step 5) Locate bear.

Step 6) Employ ninja sneak attack moves. (Tip: Summersaults work nicely.)

Step 7) Spray bear repellant onto bear.

Step 8) Watch bear disintegrate.


Tip: Don't get attacked by a bear before you are able to attack it. This gives them the upper hand and you will likely die.