If you don’t hear back from me, it’s probably because I was charged with stalking a minor and am now some lady’s prison bitch.

Okay, so while I’ll admit that I was once a hormone-infested teeny bopper obsessed with bands like NKOTB  and The Tragically Hip and when my friend told me at the INXS concert that she was going to sacrifice herself to prove her love for Michael Hutchence I agreed it was the only  thing that made sense, really. But there’s a big difference between us music-loving teenagers back then and these crazy “Bieber Fever”-ridden pubescents now.

Back then, we didn’t have Facebook.






























  1. 10,000,ooo people CAN’T be wrong…can they?

    Well…don’t count American Idol voting and Presidential elections. I can’t wait until these “beliebers” grow up.

    Maybe not…they’ll be running the country some day. Maybe someone can put out a secret message for beliebers to throw themselves in front of a tour bus or something and save us all from our doomed future.

  2. I am not a girl or anything but even I know that Michael Hutchence > Justin Bieber any day of the week. I still can’t believe M.H. hanged himself.

  3. For a country that’s produced such great things as hockey, RUSH and poutine—I’m a little disappointed in you people for this whole Bieber thing…

    His haircut is some serious bull-shit as well…


    • Are you kidding? That hairstyle is what I like best! It’s like reverse hockey-hair. (Which is good, because I hate hockey hair.)

      Not to mention that it really brings out the lower half of his face.

  4. I think the only difference between tweens then and tweens now is the fact that they can unite as a fiercely hormonally driven crazy bunch that number in the 1,000,000’s. We used to firmly believe that we were the only ones – the absolute only ones (all ten of us) – that really loved our idols – lol!

    Hope you’ve escaped prison and are enjoying some weekend freedom, b!

    • You bring up a good point, T. Had I known there were so many INXS fans before going to the concert, I might not have wasted my (Dad’s) money. I thought for sure they’d dedicate a song to me. Or at least get my own personal shout-out.

      Hope you’re having a great weekend as well.:)

  5. A fine piece of mischief Bschooled.

    I’m naturally inclined to dislike goofy, toothy, caterwauling and unfortunately-sheared young people but I have to admit I have a hard time criticizing this particular kid. I can’t help but feel that despite his obvious shortcomings (being under 50 and for a start) at least the lad is out there working and making something happen for himself.

    I have no idea if he has any real talent or not (my subscription to Teen Beat ran out in 1941) but at least he’s not hanging out in front of my house on a skateboard doing supertokes and taking a whizz on my hostas.

    All the best.

    Your friend,


    • I guess you’re right, Don. Between you and me I think I’m just bitter because he hasn’t answered any of my letters yet.

      Er, wait…I just realized how creepy that sounded. I don’t mean that I was sending him fan letters or anything. AS IF I would do that! People would think I’m a freak or something! LOL!

      No, the truth is that I was sending him letters asking if I could adopt him.

      You see, while I don’t really have the spare time it would take to raise a child from birth (I’m assuming it would be like a part-time job and I’m already swamped as it is with all this Facebook creeping) it would be nice if I could have a kid who was already somewhat independent. Not to mention away most of the time.

      And really, it would be win/win because I’d have someone to take care of me financially, and he’d have a “super cool mom” that he wouldn’t be embarrassed to go out clubbing with. (Not to brag or anything, but I tend to be a real hit with the younger male demographic…I think it has something to do with the fact I can do three blowjob shooters in a row without gagging.)

      Anyway, I guess we’ll find out soon enough, seeing as I had to resort to leaving a message with his agent.

      But regardless of what happens, Don, you can rest assured that no son of mine will ever be going anywhere near your hostas. Or your barrenworts, big bluestem, or creeping phlox for that matter.

      Because you’re my friend.

      Your friend (see above for proof),


  6. Thanks to this post, I finally know what ROFL means and can sleep nights. And for the record, Bschooled (because I’m sure someone is keeping a record of this somewhere) you can make fun of Babar all you want, but I have very fond memories of that cute little elephant, and if he can carry a tune these days with a Catholic usher, I don’t really see the dark side. Come to think of it, I don’t see the light side, either.

    I’m having another drink, dammit. The wife and princess are way up by the border of our lovely countries, while I get to enjoy delivering weekend mail to dottering old retirees awaiting farm implement catalogues and discounted prescription medicine from Montreal. So far I haven’t seen any one of them with half the wit and wisdom of Mister Mills, which once again leads me to believe that he’s really a comedy writer in L.A. flexing creative muscles like the awsome CLT or Senior Oglesby.

    Where were we? Babar the elephant; one little pachydermata flexing his lungs and beating off groupies with a whip snake trunk like Indiana Jones snapping that rawhide bull whip.

    [Pause for flashback. A dungeon club in Boston, a Dominitrix in black leather; and a circus dwarf named Tofu. Oh yeah.]

    And Bschooled, I don’t just love you for the fame. Your humor is 100% talent, and . . . ah . . . I used up all of the percentage. You rock hard my northern friend.

    Please say hi to my wife and crazy little kid if you see them buying discount prescriptions, but watch your handbag. Little Gwen has extremely quick hands for a rookie pickpocket.

    • I’m so glad I could teach you what ROFL means, Dan.

      I know it sounds crazy, but I’ve always felt as though I was put on this earth to teach (hence the “school” part of my name). And now that someone has finally been schooled (hence the “schooled” part of my name”), I can focus on my own needs (which technically I was doing anyway but still, now I feel better knowing that I don’t have other things to worry about).


      While I don’t know much about Dominatrix, or circus dwarves for that matter (my parents are Mormon), I do know that the wit and wisdom of Mr. Mills is something you rarely find in Senior Citizens these days. It’s almost as if he was born after his time….which is strange, especially when you consider that his time is already way far back there.


      Regardless, I always love it when you share your flashbacks, Dan. Particularly the ones that involve Dominatrix. And I promise to keep an eye out for your family, even if there is a chance that your daughter may pocket said eye and trade it in for free meds.


  7. elizabeth3hersh says:

    Very disappointed. I though you were my bitch, bschooled. :-(

    • That goes without saying, E!

      The thing about being someone’s bitch is that it’s not a full-time job. If I was your bitch 24/7, you’d probably start getting annoyed. You’d be all like “Bitch! Get out of my face!” which would lead me to wonder if perhaps I was being too “available”. But if I spread my bitchtits around and let others own the bitch (aka. myself), I feel like people appreciate me more. It’s like I’m fulfilling my life’s purpose or something. And that’s bitchin’, don’t you think?

      (I realize this makes no sense, somehow I got off track and started wondering how many times I could actually use the word “bitch” in a comment.)

  8. elizabeth3hersh says:



    New Kids were awesome. Hangin’ Tough meant something, dammit. And Donnie was King Bad%$$!

    Poor INXS dude,I hope he passed out before he realized he was in trouble.

    • Ha! I loved that song! “Hanging Tough” and “Please Don’t Go Girl” were hands down my faves. (Only because I could totally hear Joey’s voice during the chorus.)

      Thanks for stopping by, Lisa!

  10. Heck, you are a funny lady bschooled. A total card

  11. I don’t know how you do it. I know why you do it; because it’s funnier than watching an enraged stutterer trying to argue about whether or not Bieber is really bothsexual. I just don’t know how you do it.

    Your astonishing success at penetrating the inner sanctums of these (almost) criminal organizations is destined to become a how-to guide for the DEA and CIA. You make Joe Pistone (Donnie Brasco) look like a retarded hack.

    I just hope that you are fully aware of the price you are paying for your humor B. These people are not going to just let this shit just drop. They’re going to keep coming and coming until either you or they (as an entity) are dead. Or until they turn 15 and decide to go all Goth.

    But as always if you need me, you know where to find me. -In case you forgot I’ll be down at the docks, watching the eagle come back from his nightly activities (around 5:30am).

    • Thank-you, Scott. It takes a lot of hard work and determination (not to mention hawk-like eyes and a stellar reaction time) , but trust me; if I can do it, then at least 0.01% of the rest of the world can.

      I’ll meet you at the dock soon. I just have to run back to my place first, to change these hawk-like eyes for my eagle ones.

      (Only because I don’t want to confuse you.)

  12. Fortunately, I have so far been able to resist the twitter temptation, so I have no idea of the consuming relevance of it all. I did join facebook one time and was promptly defriended by Sarah Palin. Probably because I failed to grovel enough and fully exposed my political leanings by asking her how big her tits actually were.

    As for the Bierber, I prefer Jonny Lang. Love your post, but I still ain’t joining twitter, Why would I need to when all I have to do is read yours?

    • Ha! Don’t worry, Jammer. From now on I make a vow to social network on your behalf.

      I’ll start by making a Facebook Fan page for Jonny Lang, just as soon as I find out who that is…;)

  13. Bieber is awfully bossy, isn’t he? Telling us to vote for this; criticizing a fat guy; stealing the photo shoot from Usher. Tsk. One day he’ll go bald and his name will be Berber, as in carpet, and he’ll wear one on that long patch above the bottom half of his face.

    All of this from a guy who runs into turnstyle doors and gets things thrown on his head at concerts. It’s a wonder every hair is always plastered down.

    Is it hair or a helmet?

    • I think it might be one of those helmet wigs.

      Kind of like this one: http://showstudio.com/2006/04/21/prada_helmet_2_150x200.jpg

      (Only more “hip”.)

      • Ha ha!! Bschooled!! I cracked up at that prada helmet then accidentally exited out of the browser. That’s what those photos will do to a person :-D. Yes, Bieber’s current helmet is more hip, but this is the geriatric model he’ll need later on. Knowing how accident prone he is at this age, the materials needed on the future models will have to be made from chemicals found on planets not yet discovered. One can only hope NASA will be funded enough in the years to come for the sake of Bieber’s “hair.”

  14. Oh ma gawd (I just wanted to write it like that, ok?)

    I love when you do this kind of post. I really do laugh audibly. I was dying at the “I didn’t even watch the link, and I totally understood,” but then I really lost my watermelon Bubbleicious when I read this one: “Well, only if someone grieve me first. Then I must sorrow them.”


    You’re too good. I’m trying to stop eating late at night so I can get a super fit body and find work as a stripper. Then I’m taking all my money and I’m holing up somewhere and just writing. None of this day job business – my real job is really starting to interfere with all the fun I’m having blogging. Anyhow, I’ve decided to take you with me. Let me know. My abs should be looking good in about 2 years.

    • That goes without saying, Vodka. I’ve already started working on my glutes (I’m going to stick with lap dancing, only because I get performance anxiety on stage) and also put together some ideas for our first novel.

      I’m thinking something along the lines of a Babysitter’s Club-meets-48 Hours Mystery-meets-Tina Turner’s Private Dancer collaboration. (If we can find a way to incorporate your multicultural crotch transplant, we could target a few different demographics at the same time.)

  15. If this blog is your beard, then can I be the have eaten Jolly Rancher that is stuck in it?

  16. I love it when somebody who’s young enough to be stalking a minor talks about “back then”. It makes me wish I had never invented that damn telephone.

    – Alex

  17. For no apparent reason:

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