My motto: if it’s already news, I’m breaking it. News, that is. Breaking the news. Not anything else. Why the heck aren’t you focusing? Focusing on me? My news breaking assets? Sheesh! I knew I shouldn’t have worn Grandma’s brooch.
It’s time again for more wack-a-doodle news from your
ace cub second-hand reporter.
My other motto: Never drink and read. At least not this blog. Keyboards, like you, hate humidity.
Okay, so here is the latest crop of Portlandia-ish news items I thought you might find Outlandia-ish.
“911, what’s your emergency?” “Donut worry. I’m a police officer. I was latte for work and my caramel swirled to avoid all the holes around here. Batter send in back up, though.”
Impressive. I wouldn’t try that hard to get back to my family.
I can see why they might want to crack down on drivers. Out here in the Wild West, people are taking the notion of freedom a bit too far.
Just in case plain old Twinkies weren’t risky enough for you, and you had one too many deep-fried sticks of butter, you’re in luck! Or maybe your cardiologist is in luck.
As every good 4-H-er knows, you have to appreciate where things come from. So it’s perfectly natural to have these beauties (the plants,not the wigged out judges) at the state fair.
I’m guessing these plants didn’t quite make it to the state fair. I’ve seen some odd things in port-a-potties in my day, but nothing like this to tickle my fanny.
And you thought these critters were scary. Ha! Tweetie Bird is laughing his tail feathers off at Mr. Chirp N. Drool.
I live among some very passionate Trumpeteers. I just didn’t know that they were trying to influence the election from the grave. In case you can’t read the highlighted portions, this man enjoys his Harley motorcycle and taking his daughter on dates. In lieu of flowers, he asks people not to vote for Hilary Clinton in November.
Depending on the outcome of the November election, this scientific news may be wonderful or may be disappointing. Your call.
I hope you enjoyed another installment of Outlandia News brought to you by your
only favorite dizzy blonde reporter-ish.
All right, already. What’s the big deal anyway? I have an eye for breaking news that’s clearly broken. I’m a woman whose time and cable channel have yet to come.
Editor’s Note: The story I ran in the last edition about the Poop App was, unfortunately, a hoax. A cruel, cruel, hoax. No Pooper-Uber, People. You have to self-scoop…for now.
Eeewww. Picking up poopies should really be handled by trained professionals.
Until the next time, stay safe and send any strange news my way. I’ll know what to do with it!