I’m One Vial Of Lion’s Sperm From Making Myself A Griffin.



Me: “The real Easter miracle this year?  My neighbor found the last egg today by our fence.  One more day and it would have hatched a basilisk.”

Drew: “Wait…don’t you cook those eggs?”

Me: “Yeah, why?”

Drew: “Well, if it’s been cooked, it can’t hatch.”

Me: “To be clear…you’re saying the reason why I can’t hatch a mythical, giant snake out of a chicken egg…is because I hard-boiled it, first…”

Drew: “I’d like to remind you that, according to you…the egg in question was hidden by a giant, magical rabbit.”

Me: “Touche.”

I Have ALLLL The Huevos



Yet another fantastically heretical Easter Sunday conversation, albeit this time by text with my favorite Jewish doctor.


Drew: Are you done with that whole chocolate egg thing that your people pretend is connected to Jesus, yet.

Me: The kids were done hours ago. Now they’re Skyping with their father.

Drew: Oh great. Is he correcting your parenting from afar, again?

Me: He’s telling them, to tell me, to email him their report cards, and I’m biting my tongue from saying, “Sure, but tell him to send child support”.

Drew: Well, he might actually do it!  It is your people’s day of miracles, after all.

Me: I’m pretty sure that we used all of our miracle cache on that resurrection thing.  No dice.

Drew: If he does, can we say he “rose from the deadbeat”?

Me: I love you so much right now.

I Hope They Make A Handbasket Big Enough.



Two horrifying things that happened during the early morning Easter egg hunt.

Xavier: “Mom, did you hide any eggs in the entertainment center.”

Me: “I have no idea what the Easter Bunny does.”

Xavier: (whispering) “Liiiiiar.”



Caolinn: “Wait…was Easter the day Jesus died, or the day he came back.”

Me: “It was the day he was resurrected.”

Caolinn: “Oh, that makes more sense.  Now that I think about it…that’s kind of like what happened with Yoda.”

Me: “Yeah…we need to go to church today.”

Crotch Candy…because it’s 8 whole months until Valentine’s Day.


I come to you, Ladies and Gentlemen, with a rare conundrum.  It isn’t often that two things that I greatly enjoy, come together in such a way, that the resulting offspring of the union is wholly unholy.  But today…someone has managed to offend both my love of candy and my deep abiding fondness for male genitalia.  (see below)


Just as I am sure that there is no such thing as a “posing pouch”, (Oh, shit, there is.) I am about 90% positive, and maybe I’m being hopeful here, that this product was never made to see the light of day.  I am assuming, and please, God, let me be correct, that this was created strictly as a novelty gift that would elicit a quick “HA!” before being shoved in a drawer, until such time as it was finally thrown away or re-gifted.

Let us analyze from both sides, shall we?

Speaking on behalf of women, I will say that never has any woman lamented that the thing that candy was lacking…was pubic hair.  If she wants to be in that area…she doesn’t need candy to persuade her.  Conversely, any woman who needs convincing to put her mouth anywhere NEAR your junk, isn’t going to be lured in with anything less than a box of Godiva and a guilt trip.

Lads, I’m going to go out on a limb here and assume that, for the most part, you’re not down with this product either.  I somehow doubt that you’re fantasizing about displaying your manhood in a bunch of pastel sugar beads that remind your romantic partners of baby showers and Easter egg hunts (hang on a minute…there might be some valid arguments there, on both accounts).  Furthermore, I cannot imagine that any man, when considering a head in his nether-areas, wants the barrier between his tenderbits and a mouth, to be something that needs to be firmly bitten off.  Again, I’m making assumptions, but if I had a dick…I’d have a no biting policy.  A strict one.