I <3 ... Guts?

So yesterday, I was sitting in my room clicking my Stumble button and I came across a lovely website that sells plush guts.

Excuse me? I kid you not. IHeartGuts carries t-shirts, buttons, stickers, artwork, and yes - stuffed guts. Hearts, gallbladders, lungs, pancreases...All given faces and bright colors. What the hell? They're cute, I suppose...especially for internal organs. I don't know who buys these, but the idea itself is hilarious.

My personal favorite is the plush uterus. I'm not kidding. I want to buy this for my friends' birthdays, for mother's day, and I definitely want all my children to have their own stuffed uterus. Who doesn't?
Unfortunately, this item is on recall because the ovaries, if ripped off, can be a choking hazard to children. Can you imagine that 911 call? "My daughter ripped the ovaries off of her uterus and is choking on them. Please help!" Hahahaha.

Worry not, uterus lovers! This little guy will still be available for sale for adults only, and within the next year a child-friendly uterus will also be made available. Until then, you can still buy other organs for your little ones here.

My Friend, The Dude

So, as I mentioned in my introduction, I recently stopped at a Roy Rogers to eat on my way home from Drexel. It was at the the Peter J Camile rest area off the PA turnpike. All I wanted was some of those delicious mashed potatoes and two pieces of chicken. Normally you walk in, pick those things up, pay, and you're done. But not this time.

I walk in, use the restroom, and head to the restaurant area. There are three containers of mashed potatoes which we immediately put on our tray...and there's no chicken. I stand there patiently (kind of) and wait for someone to help me. There are two guys that look to be around 16-18, and they're hard at work discussing how fast their braincells disappear, so I figure I'll give them a few seconds to finish up. Except they don't seem to care, and I know that they see me. My mom heads over and I loudly inform her that I'm waiting for food, if anybody decides to help me. I guess someone in charge around there heard me, because a man told the guys to help me out. This is where it gets good.

A somewhat tall guy with no hair and bad teeth looks at me. And doesn't move. And just looks at me. Finally he leans toward the counter and says "Hi." All my troubles were washed away right there...he was clearly going to make my fast food dining experience pleasurable. I tell him I want some chicken, and he informs me that it needs to be made. Thank you, captain obvious. But it's what came next that really inspired me. "My friend, the dude...in the back. He's making some right now." I died a little inside. He has a friend?! A friend that's a dude, nonetheless! It'll be about fifteen minutes.

Three minutes later, he leans over and says "Are you waiting for chicken?" No, I was actually waiting for you, baby. Wtf? He then proceeds to update us about every five minutes on how long the chicken will take. I'm pretty sure he was trying to impress me with his math skills. It's too bad it actually took about ten minutes longer than he said it would. He must have noticed how annoyed I was while I waited, because after a while he decided to express how sorry he was about the wait. I believe it went something like this: "Duuude, I feel so BAD man, you guys actually stayed and waited for the food. You've been standing here ROCKIN' OUT this whole time." Yeah, that was too good to ignore, so I responded with "Yeah man, we're just rockin' out, having a good time." I don't think it phased him at all. A couple minutes later he comes up, arms in that whole TOUCHDOOOOWN position and exlaims that the chicken is ON THE TRAY. Five minutes later, we get our food, and he seems about as proud as the Steelers did the day before when they won their 6th Super Bowl.

On the bright side, the chicken was hot and still delicious. I barely ate any cause I ate my potatoes way too fast and was ready for a nap before I even sat down, but I finished it later that night during another long car ride, and it was still tasty even cold.

Thank you, Roy Rogers,for the wonderful experience.

Hello, hello. Hola!

Congratulations if you understood the subject came from U2. I actually just didn't know what to put there for my little introductory blurb so that's where my mind went. On the bright side, I can count in English and Spanish without jumping from three to fourteen. Even when I'm drunk. Seriously.

But let's get down to business. I have no expectations for people to actually read this, but in the event that anybody does, I want to explain.

The last two weeks had been completely dreadful, and I had the longest weekend ever. I was miserable, and withdrawing from Drexel had proven to be a lengthy process of waiting 30-45 minutes to sign my name on a piece of paper...a total of five times. Yeah, do the math. Anyway, I was ready to just go home and pass out for a week, but I was hungry. We stopped at a rest stop containing a Roy Rogers. My experience there was unbelievably ridiculous, albeit amusing. I'll save the details for a separate blog. But it inspired me to start this blog, so I could bitch and whine and make fun of things. Not that I'm good that or anything.

Why call it "Madam Sargasmic," you ask? (Let's be honest, you weren't actually wondering.) Well obviously this blog needed a name. I can never be witty when I really feel like I need to be and actually thought about this for a long time. Basically, I decided sarcasm was going to come into play somehow, because it's pretty much my middle name. I tend to like "asm" words...partly cause it sounds cool, partly 'cause I'm in love with someone who's initals happen to be ASM, and partly because it makes everything sound like orgasm. I'm immature and it makes me happy on the inside, okay? But you know, it still had to be creative and interesting. Basically, the madam part is simply because I like to call people madam. And because I refer to myself as a madam, not a Miss, Ms, or Misses. Sarcasm can easily be changed to sargasm...Which in urban dictionary is defined as "Deriving far too much satisfaction from glibly berating another with sarcasm." You can do the math.

So...hooray. Here goes nothing!