Fear of Abduction, Part 2

So my last post was about fear of abduction, 
and I got this comment from Andrea:

Just under my facebook posting of your "Fear of Abduction" update (which I loved!), a friend posted this site: www.stopabductions.com
Coincidence, I think not! If Oprah were nearby, she would say the universe was trying to tell me something. So, I am on abduction high alert :)
Beware, this site will suck you in for hours and leave you speechless... and possibly have you worrying about more than just pedophiles and rapists, or at least, human ones.

 I thought to myself, "Nice try, Andrea, IF that is your real name and you are not trying to abduct me, but I'm not going to that clearly depressing site with tales of successful abductions.  FAIL!"  Then today, I'm eating a donut and perusing the Internet, and I think, "Hey, that site Andrea suggested looks informative, I think I'll go."


And it is worse than I thought.  I have some news.

Aliens are reading our thoughts, 

AND abducting us.

According to this site, the Thought Screen Helmet stops space aliens from abducting humans, and has been used by former abductees for years.  

Apparently the only people aliens are interested in abducting are people who speak English, French, and Portuguese, or at least those are the only people who can be SAFE from abduction.  Furthermore, ugly people and the elderly are not the only ones who can be abducted.  There is a very attractive Austrian teen who is modeling her version of the Thought Screen Helmet, and had this testimonial:

"I have been abducted by aliens for years and found stopabductions.com by a happy coincidence.  The Thought Screen Helmet, invented by an expert, has stopped the unwelcome visitations and has raised me and my family`s quality of life. Therefore I highly recommend it."

The look on the girl's face says, "I made this effing helmet with instructions I found on the Internet, and I can't wait to wear it to the skate park and show my emo friends that I think outside of the Hot Topic box."

Michael Menkin, the inventor, is a well-dressed man who drinks Minute Maid beverages and bottled water, uses a corded phone, and he cares about your well-being, people.
 
Apparently aliens use telepathic powers to control the human mind.  They are then able to control us, and abduct us.  I am sure I was abducted once in college, when the aliens bought me and a friend a case of beer and said they would take us on a road trip to Cedar Falls, IF we would just step into their spaceship, disguised as a 1980 Ford Mustang.  I was also abducted on a June night in 1996 when an alien human hybrid took over my husband's body and mind-controlled me into a night of drinking and sexual revelry that ended with me knocked up.  I was abducted in this same fashion at least two more times.  Had I been equipped with the Thought Screen Helmet, I would not be raising my three obviously alien children.

All of the children have used their mind control on me a number of times.  Oldest Daughter recently got unlimited texting, after a year of refusals from her parents.  Middle Son got a corn snake in his room after a year of pleading.  Youngest Daughter stared at me at the dinner table, and the next thing I knew, I was on the phone with the government of Portugal, declaring war.  Coincidence?  I think not.

So thank you, Andrea.  Thank you for being brave enough to share this valuable site with me, and in turn, my mother and her two non-English speaking co-workers who pretend to read this blog.  I am fashioning my own helmet this evening, and will be making helmets for the entire family as Christmas gifts (except for the alien children, who are trying to control my brain RIGHT. NOW.).  

I've been lucky enough to find a photo of the aliens.  They infiltrate our televisions, political parties, popular music, favorite plastic surgeons, and yoga classes:

I, for one, will NOT be visiting the Bony Pony Ranch.

Live long and prosper.

 

The Sixth Food Pyramid Part 2, Resolution #11

Again with the eating.  And we had a mini-blizzard yesterday, which forced me to make chicken tortilla soup and eat half a bag of sour cherry balls.  That's right.  I said balls.  

So back to Type 6 Diabetes.  Type 6 Diabetes, a lesser-known form of the disease, happens when you leave the traditional five food groups and exist solely on the Sixth Food Group Pyramid, which looks like this: 

I revert to the pyramid when I am cold and uncomfortable, having a bad day, or am celebrating something.  So kind of all the time.  Let me explain how the pyramid works.  Today is Part Two in a three part series.

 The Middle of the Pyramid is about Weekend Eating

The other day, Mocha Grande asked about fats and salts.  This is the roux, or the base, of weekend eating.  When Current Husband and I were living in sin, we would come home from work on Friday, pull a futon mattress on the floor in front of the TV, and eat chips and dip, pizza rolls, Chinese food, Taco Bell, and drink beer.  And play Sega.  We'd stay up until 2 or 3 a.m., and catch an episode of Star Trek:  Next Generation, because we are cool like that (You must assimilate with the Borg!  Number Two, you have the bridge!  What is this emotion...love?  I am unfamiliar with this term.). 

On Saturday, we'd wake up at about 10 or 11 a.m. and start watching college football/basketball, and then run out to get more Chinese/Mexican/Italian food and rent some movies.  We'd watch Saturday Night Live, and then get another movie in, and go to sleep around 2 a.m.  Sunday morning felt like a good time for some doughnuts from the grocery store a block away, and then we'd eat leftovers from the previous 36-hour gorge and prepare ourselves for the work week.  Oh my Sweet Lord, how I miss those days.  Back when we had minuscule amounts of debt, responsibility or spawn, and ginormous metabolisms.  We never stopped eating like that on the weekend, but CH and I have both experienced a noticeable difference in our metabolism levels since we were in our 20's.  Now we have debt, obligations, offspring and fat.

Here is who I blame:

That's right.  The Girl Scouts of America. 

Why, Julie, why?  The Girl Scouts are wholesome.  They're helpful.  They wear jauntily perched chapeaus.  They sell delicious cookies!"

Let me tell you why.  Because those bitches wouldn't let me in.  That's right.  I, Julie The Wife, am a bona fide Girl Scout Reject.

There are obvious reasons they wouldn't have me.  I'll give you a moment to compile a short mental list.  (OKAY, that's enough!  Stop!  I get it!)   The reason they gave my mother is that we lived too far out of town, and therefore did not fall into their region of 'City Girl Troop 345'.  (Of course, the reason 4H wouldn't have me is that I lived too CLOSE to town, and could not raise livestock.  But hello!  I was NAMED after a COW!  I should be a 4H legacy!)  I lived on a lake in no-man's land, nine miles from town and five miles from a farm, where I could not earn a badge that would train me in the invaluable skills of feeding a family healthy food.  This is the badge that keeps me from my dreams of Domestic Servitude today:

The unattainable, therapy-inducing Family Living Skills badge.

And, as one can easily discern from the badge, this is also why I am not good with housekeeping, laundry, or money.  The badge I HAVE earned:

And this is tattooed on my back fat.

So not only do the girls in green reject me and refuse to teach me how to plan and cook a proper healthy meal for my family, they then undercut any real effort I make to BE healthy by coming around every year in the dead of winter to push their crack-laced cookies.  Which I eat on the weekends.  After my soup, chips, and Taco Bell.

RESOLUTION #11:  Punch the next Girl Scout I see.

Sour cherry balls!  Sour cherry balls to every last one of you and your jaunty berets!

Next:  Part Three in the Sixth Food Pyramid series, on Desserts From Friends.

UPDATE - 10:30 p.m. Tuesday.  Just ordered 10 boxes of Girl Scout cookies from my darling niece.  Punched her mother, who is a Troop Leader.  All is forgiven.