I’ve missed you! Have you missed me?

Don’t answer that.
HI! I know, I know… you thought I died, or ran away with the circus or something, huh? Puhleeeeeeez… like I would ever run away with the circus. Althoooooooooough… if Tom Mison was the lion tamer… ok, maybe I might.
As IF that’d happen.

So back to my exit from life. I restarted my binge-writing as more of a therapy than anything. Hey, if you had a clue what the hell I dealt with here, you’d understand my need for therapy. I needed an escape from my life. I took somewhat of a break from my design work and played in the sandbox with y’all for a while. You guys are awesome, by the way. It was the well-needed break that I need to refuel my first love… print design.

In the past months, I’ve been putting together a letterpress studio in my design office. I’m having more fun than I’ve had in years. I’m loving printing and creating stationery, cheeky greeting cards, wedding invites, and announcements. I’ve also been blogging over there…. mostly about what I’m doing in the studio. But stay tuned, things could get crazy.


Cheeky is my middle name. Find this card and others at Sparkle Pony.

Come visit me over there. My new studio is Sparkle Pony Press. Most of the cards have the cheeky twist you’ve known me for. Stop by sometime and say hi!

Fresh as a morning dump

I’m a girl true to my word. It may take me several years and a handful of reminders to get something done. But I’ve never let anyone down. I don’t think. Except maybe that time I promised I’d fix my brother’s GI Joe after Barbie ripped his leg off in a fit of wild passion. But maybe other than that I’m squared up with the world.

So a couple of weeks ago I shared Poo-pourri’s hysterical promo video. If you haven’t seen it, and you’d like to crack yourself up, poo-phemistically speaking, you can find it here.

If you’re all caught up, then let’s talk poop. I’ve got a product to dish.

poopourriI ordered my Poo-pourri from their website. It was easy and it came in just under a week. If you’re in more of a hurry, they have expedited shipping, or you can get it on Amazon with free two-day shipping if you have an Amazon Prime membership. (which on another note, is the greatest value since, like…. ever, if you do much online shopping)

Anyhoooooo…. I bought a bottle of Poo-pourri to give it a shot. I chose the “original scent.” For me, it was love a first whiff. The original scent is lemon verbena… my favorite herb in the garden. So, yay me! The scent of the product made me happy as a pig in slop. (And if you’ve never seen a pig in slop, that’s the giddy kind of happy.)

With product in hand, when nature called, I gave it the suggested four squirts into the bowl… the Poo-pourri product, not me. With Poo-pourri in the bowl, I sat down and did a little reading. The product scent was nice, and it did seem to mask, and even “trap,” as they claim some of the, ummm, steam. I was pleasantly surprised after washing my hands and emerging from the loo, there was no scented evidence of my business, other than the lovely lingering lemon verbena. I call it a win.

Now if your little astronauts have a longer hang-time before taking the plunge, there may be more odor escape. Or if, heaven forbid, your loaf’s been baking for a while, giving it more time to develop its foul bouquet, and built up some gas power, then your cloud will likely hit the air and just mix with the Poo-pourri, creating a questionable scent of lemony-fresh poop. I didn’t experience this. But I can see where this could happen. But for me, it was effective.

The real test came with my big ol’ stinkers. I’m not going to divulge who it is in my house that smells like death, and whose stench lingers with the hard and fast staying power of the first guy in line at Best Buy on Black Friday. It goes NOwhere. You can throw whatever scented spray you’ve got at it. But it ends up smelling like cinnamon-dipped poop. Or rose-dipped poop. For hours. These are the poopers who are the true Poo-pourri test. I’m so proud of my family.

Test subject #1, who will remain nameless, gave it the four sprays and set out on the bombing run. This particular tester is courtesy flusher. I was thinking that flushing the product right away might reduce it’s effect. But it still seemed to reduce the stench cloud significantly, though not entirely. There are some clouds that refuse to be tamed. But I will say that the smell o’death cleared much more quickly than without Poo-pourri.     Winner.

Test subject #2, is the lingering smell o’ death pooper. I’ve considered building a special outhouse bathroom for this particular one. I’m quite certain that Deathbutt provides such a pungent punch because the stinker refuses to go anywhere but home, and holds it beyond its expiration date. The gaseous brew that comes with subject #2’s number twos is so dense, I swear to y’all, I can see it wafting in the air. So I wasn’t too sure that Poo-pourri would even put a dent in it.

I suggested that Deathbutt use six sprays into the bowl. The label suggests 4-6 squirts. And six seemed appropriate for this one.  Surprisingly, the angry brew seemed to have been taken down a few notches. It didn’t linger quite as long as usual. Although I wouldn’t assume this subject could complete a Poo-pourri-assisted stealth bombing run at a party, and get away with it. It definitely helped lessen the grumpy family comments relating to Deathbutt’s stink factory. Call me Little Mary Sunshine, but I call that somewhat of a win as well.

Finally, subject #3 used four sprays and emerged from the bathroom, fresh as a bushel of verbena. There was no lingering odor other than the Poo-pourri. I think #3 and I shared the same results. We, and Poo-pourri were the biggest winners. Our other two subjects were questionable. But keep in mind that some people have atomic poop, which will never be tamed. No matter what.

Regardless, I’ll still call it a win. I love the original verbena scent, and it worked like a charm for two of us, while helping a bit with the other two. For me, it’s worth every penny. Plus it has a money-back guarantee. I figured I couldn’t go wrong by trying it out.

Comment below or like the Bullcasm facebook page, and I’ll pick a winner to get a free purse spray size Poo-pourri for you to try yourself.

Happy pooping!

Note: I wasn’t paid nor supplied with the product for this review.
• • •


Wouldya couldya throw a girl a vote?

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My name is Lynn, and I’m a Candyland addict.

It’s time for me to stand up and admit this to you all. My name is Lynn, and I’m a Candyland-crack addict. I’ve come down off of a weekend trip… trying to steal away private moments to get my fix. Ignoring things that needed to be done, just to nab some time for my Candyland habit. I knew I had a problem when my husband walked in on me… mid-snort… caught up in giggle convulsions. Yes. It’s true. I’m an addict. And I need help.

I’m not a selfish addict though. I am all about sharing. There’s plenty of Candyland to go around. It’s always more fun for an addict when everyone else is hooked too. I’m setting out to create my own Candyland addiction circle. I’m not talkin’ the board game either, people. I’m talking about the wildly entertaining web series, set in a snobby, Palisades preschool. These aren’t your typical kidlets. Each of the Candyland cuties is a concoction of innocence, conniving and evil, all rolled into a pint-sized package. They’ll draw you in, and have you begging for more. More hilarity. More drama. More fun.

I’m not turning you on to garbage here… I swear to you. I only do the good stuff. The production quality is solid. And the acting is actually pretty impressive for these little darlings. I have no shame. I’m proud of my addiction and happy to pass it on.

Season One is already on the books. Yes, that’s right, people. I’m late to the party. But these are quick little episodes, 5-6 minutes, and you can catch up on the first season in a flash. And then, like me, be begging for more. OOOH, the agony of a cliffhanger. I’m jonesin’ here, people.

I’ll hook you up. Here’s Episode One. The rest of the season is on the site or youtube. And then join me in the anticipation of Season Two. “Like” the Candyland Series on Facebook or follow them on Twitter, and you’ll be the first to know when the new batch of Candyland is ready for the snorts and giggles.

You’re welcome…

Help a girlfriend out. Vote for me! You can click to vote once a day.
There’s nothing else to do once you’ve clicked the banner. You’re done! Thanks a million. xo

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Like acid without the pesky flashbacks


Both photos: cushzilla.com

I’m totally a “to each his/her own” kind of chick. Who am I to judge? I mean, hell, whatever floats your boat. But I think maybe I need to take a remedial sarcasm and pointless bullshit class. Doggy/kitty hooker wigs? Is there a fetish subculture I’m missing out on? Seriously, I try to keep up on those… purely for entertainment value, of course.

Maybe someone can help me out here? Are we making fun of our dogs? Or making them feel pretty… oh so pretty… and witty, and gay? Do they like this stuff? Or are we belittling and demeaning them for pooping on the rug, or chewing the couch, or something? If so, does this work? Because if it does, bring that shit on. I’m all for punishment in the form of abject humiliation. It does seem to work with the kids.

“You pooped on the rug again, Lily.”

(paws the carpet, avoiding eye contact) “Sorry mom.”

“Alright then, you get ten minutes on the yard in the purple Sweet Baby Slutbag wig.”

“But mom, please, I look awful in purple. And the other dogs will laugh at me.”

“Maybe next time you’ll think twice about pooping on the rug, Lily.”


An Oscar to her humans for keeping a straight face.

I don’t know. Is it just me? I don’t see this really working out here. I mean, I’m willing to give it a try. But I’m pretty convinced my dog is a closet slutbag anyway. She’d probably secretly like it… but then pretend she hated it, so I’d keep using it as punishment. Kind of like I used to do when I’d get sent to my room. Where I’d read. For hours. The louder my stomping going up the stairs, the longer my punishment would be. I’m telling you, people. Even back then, I was showing signs of fucking genius.

Maybe I’ll give it a shot and see what happens. Perhaps she’ll get a little more spring in her step. A little more confidence. Although she’ll probably want matching purple Go-Go boots too. Slutbag.

I’m willing to try something new. All in the name of keeping life interesting. I look at it as a mind-broadening experience. Like acid without the pesky flashbacks. Now I just have to decide if she’d like the purple or the hot pink. I’m willing to jump into a new experience with all fours. Can someone tell me where I find the matching Go-Go boots?

Do NOT Disturb

I have no doubt that people think we’re the most friendly and approachable people on our block. I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s the sign on our front porch. Everyone needs one of these. Seriously. We used to be solicitor crack. And now, only the seriously brave or pitifully stupid sales people dare to ring the bell.

Ya… it’s the sign… definitely the sign. no-solicitors

Please share… but don’t forget a link back. Link backs are blogger crack.

Quack is Whack

A muzzle is not humiliating enough, people. Now you can put a duck-bill on Fido. This little charmer has a higher humility-factor than a cone of shame. And it’s perfect for long-term, intermittent, daily torture. The cone of shame is just too ephemeral for those who really like to make Fido keenly aware of the household pecking order.

Simply stated, a must have…. if you hate your dog… who will very likely kill you in your sleep for this. No really, with ninjaesque acuity. You will probably never know what hit you. The last thing you see will be the blur of a duck-bill. Your pooch will figure that someone will feel sorry for her. And she’s probably right. She’ll find another Greenie supplier. Trust me. Who wouldn’t take pity? Some dick strapped a duck-bill on her, for cryin’ out loud.

But seriously, are these not awesome? Truly badass. And note, if you’re really brave (like in a superhero way) they’re also completely stunning on a cat.

Disclaimer: If your pet kills you in your sleep for strapping one of these little gems on her, don’t blame me. Seriously. I warned you.