That’s Not a Threat; That’s a VOW

How to Shock Everyone During Your Wedding Vows #funny #wedding #vows #bride #groom #humor #marriage

So then…I peek through the Church door with excitement as I prepare for my Grand Entrance. Our friends and family have gathered from round the globe to witness our wedding. I am glowing with goodwill.

I see my handsome groom take his place at the front, grinning and gesturing at his buddies in the front row. Suddenly, I see money change hands.

Money change hands.

His buddies are passing bills back and forth, pretending that they had bet on whether or not he was going to show up! The congregation chuckles at the pantomiming. He and his buddies get a big laugh for their antics.

I harrumph.

Oh believe me, I love a good laugh. And I know my groom is a cut-up. It’s one of his best traits.

But to be upstaged at my own wedding? Harrumph.

So the music starts, and we make our Grand Entrance to oohs and aahs. I am glowing with goodwill again.

I smile at all the happy faces of our pals and relatives. The ceremony is really lovely.

When it’s my turn for the vows, the minister asks me to repeat after him.

Minister: to have and to hold from this day forward

Me: to have and to hold from this day forward

Minister: for better or worse

Me: for better or worse

Minister: in sickness and in health

Me: in sickness and in health

Minister: for richer or poorer

Me: for richer

Awkward pause.

Minister looks up from his booklet. Congregation collectively cocks their heads.

Minister repeats: for richer or poorer

I repeat, innocently: for richer

Congregation erupts into laughter.

Bride winks at groom.

Groom grins. Touche’, my dear, touche’.

— Darcy Perdu

Original Illustration for So Then Stories by Shelly Draven

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(Anyone pull pranks or jokes at YOUR wedding – or weddings you’ve attended? Surely you have a funny story to share about something that happened at a rehearsal dinner, bachelor/bachelorette party, or wedding reception? A guest gone crazy? A toast gone awry? A groom gone AWOL?)

They Do WHAT on Page Six?

They Do WHAT on Page ^?  (or why I almost threw her of the hotel roof!) #funny #romance #Harlequin #books #humor #generationgap

So then…I set up camp on a lounge chair on the glorious pool deck on the roof of my downtown hotel. We’re so high up, you can’t even hear the horns of the Chicago traffic below.

There’s only one other person lounging poolside – a sunbathing girl in her 20’s.

She gestures to the pool and skyline, and says, “Pretty great up here, huh?”

“Yeah,” I agree. “My business meeting ended early so I’m playing hooky to read at the pool for awhile.”

She asks what I’m reading, so I show her the cover of the suspense thriller. I nod in her direction, and she shows me the cover of her book.

“Harlequin Romance?” I ask excitedly. “Oh my God, I haven’t thought of those in years! My sister and I used to read those all the time!”

She sits up. “Really?”

Nostalgia floods me. “Oh, yeah, they’re awesome! There was this huge box of old Harlequins at this little tiny library near our house in Louisiana that would let you borrow six paperbacks at a time.  So we’d ride our bikes over there every week and borrow six Harlequins, read ‘em, and get six more the next week!”

She sips her soda and says, “Wow, you musta really liked them.”

“Yeah, we loved them. They were mostly by British authors so everything was ‘colour’ with an ‘our’ — or ‘realise’ with an ‘s’ instead of a ‘z.’ And the plots were always the same every single time.

“The same plots?” she asks.

“Well, like the same formula. You know – gorgeous sweet young virgin meets tall, dark, handsome man – usually 10 years older, very wealthy, and from a different country. They have to work together on some project in the English countryside – or she’s the governess or something.” I say, warming to my topic.

They Do WHAT on Page 6 H Sultan

I continue, “They hate each other and fight the whole book – and his snobby fiancé named Fiona or Penelope keeps popping up in the way of true love. But then toward the end something happens like –”

They Do WHAT on Page 6 H Beloved

I think a moment, then recall — “Oh! Like he sees her teaching orphans how to paint – or she sees him feeding blind puppies or something — so on the last page, they realize they love each other! He proposes, they kiss – and fade out to happily ever after! Fabulous!”

I smile with the rosy memory of those lazy summer afternoons lying around reading sappy romances.

“Oh,” she says, looking like a doctor with bad news about the operation.

“What? Have they changed?” I ask. “I haven’t read any Harlequins since I was a tween, so are they diff—“

“Well, first of all, the heroines aren’t virgins,” she says.


“Oh, no, they’re having sex by page 6.”


They Do WHAT on Page 6 Bikini

“Oh, yeah,” she says. “And Harlequins cover everything these days – divorce, abortion, rape, domestic abuse, bondage, incest – you name it.”

Stunned silence.

“Seriously?” I ask in a very small voice.

“Oh, yeah, they’re great. Very hot and sexy.” She grins.

I hate her.

I hate her and her stupid Harlequin Romance. I want to throw them both in the pool.

How dare she sully such a lovely childhood memory!

Believe me, I love some hot debauchery as much as the next gal – but my sweet little innocent Harlequin Romances evolving into Jerry Springer-type tales?

Such a shame!

I resist the urge to catapult her and the offending tome off the top of the roof deck into the Chicago traffic below.

I smile and make a big show of settling down into my lounge chair to telegraph that I’m ready to read my book.

I self-righteously return to my suspense thriller — then realize that I’m only 40 pages in, and there have already been 3 vicious murders.

Ah – Who am I to judge? It’s not like either of us is reading War and Peace here.

I smile feebly in her direction and she gives me a big grin.

— Darcy Perdu

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(Anybody else out there remember the sweet comforting formulaic Harlequin Romances of yesteryear? Anyone reading the hot & steamy romances of today? Is it all Fifty Shades of Debauchery these days? Do tell. No seriously, DO tell – go slowly, be descriptive, what EXACTLY are they like now? Ha!)

My BIGGEST FEAR about Attending BlogHer…

My Biggest Fear About BlogHer
So then…panic grips me. It completely devours the excitement I’d been feeling about attending my first BlogHer conference with 5,000 other bloggers in Chicago later this week.

My BIGGEST FEAR about attending the conference reveals itself:

I’m not used to wearing a bra all day long.

At home, as soon as I get back from work, I pop off that constricting torture device and let the girls roam free in a stretchy comfortable camisole.

But at BlogHer, we’ll be going from workshops and sessions directly to dinners and parties.

Bras will probably be expected.

But right about 5:00 pm –

as I’m sitting in a sea of women all attentively focused on the pearls of wisdom dripping from the articulate mouths of the amazing BlogHer speakers –

I fear that my torso will begin to tingle –

my shoulders will begin to squirm –

and my lumps, my lumps, my lovely lady lumps, will yearn to be freed!

I will try to ignore them.

I will concentrate mightily on the speeches and readings and presentations.

But all the while, I’ll be distracted by my aching bosoms, longing to be unfettered.

After all, they’re accustomed to release — right about THIS time EVERY DAY.

I’ll itch. I’ll twitch. I’ll twist and turn.

My bra will compress more and more like a boa constrictor crushing its prey.

And I’m absolutely terrified that –

completely against my will –

my bra will spontaneously SNAP OFF and go flying through the air!

And my grateful breasts will sigh with exquisite relief as they plop into my lap where they belong.

And much like new mothers who uncontrollably begin lactating at the sound of someone else’s crying baby –

I fear that my 5,000 fellow female bloggers’ breasts will sense MY lady lumps’ liberty –

so THEIR bras will ALSO spontaneously SNAP off THEIR bodies and go flying through the conference room!

Snap! Boing! Blam! Ping! Whip! Pop!

Boobies will be bursting out EVERYWHERE!

A huge wild scene of cute breasts and bodacious ta-tas and funky tattoos and nipple rings waving free in the night:


And the speaker on stage will see a kaleidoscope of thousands of black, red, white, purple, and pink constricting lingerie popping off the bodies of shocked and horrified women, who are absolutely humiliated that their formerly pert and perky boobies are now puddled on their dinner plates.

And everyone will look to me as the instigator –

either with revulsion

or wait, perhaps…



Will they grin with relief — and hail me as the Emancipator of the Bras That Bind?

Will they clap and cheer, letting their boobies breathe the sweet cool air of the unencumbered?

Will we break out the body paint and GO WILD like the women in my BOOBALICIOUS & HILARIOUS post?

No one knows for sure. But synchronize your watches for 5:00 pm Central Standard Time the first night of the conference – and let the games begin!

— Darcy Perdu

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(Do YOUR boobs begin to strain and push against your constricting bra at the end of the day too? Don’t you hate TIGHT things? I used to tell people the first thing I did when I got home from work was to take off my bra and my wedding ring. Then someone asked, “Your bra and your wedding ring? Whose home are you going to!?” If you’re attending BlogHer (or any type of conference) soon — what’s YOUR biggest fear?)

My Biggest Fear About BlogHer P

Holy Cow! I AM a Random Roving Psychic!

Random Roving Psychic You Need To ___ (Shelly 7.16.13)
So then…my son Tucker toots and the minivan becomes rather unpleasantly aromatic. He grins and says with relief, “Oh, man, I’ve been holding that in at school all day!

We continue chatting as we drive home, and intermittently, he lets a few more rip. He alternately mumbles “excuse me” and snickers.

As we approach the left turn lane for the freeway entrance, our car faces the halted lane of traffic coming the opposite direction.

When Tucker lets forth one particularly odorous emission, I quickly roll the window down, face the fresh air, and say, “I think you need to poo!”

Regrettably, this is at the exact same moment that my minivan stops right next to the opposite traffic lane — where my window is directly across from the OPEN window of a woman’s car.

So she’s sitting there, minding her own business, when I literally pull up alongside her, roll down my window, face her, and say with maternal authority, “I think you need to poo!”

She looks surprised – and confused. But before I can clarify that the remark was intended for my son, the light changes and off we go.

My son and I burst out laughing, but I’m wondering about that poor woman’s reaction.

Is she thinking, “Oh my God, I DO have to go poo! How did that minivan lady know that? Is she some Random Roving Psychic of Bodily Functions?

Or maybe she’s thinking, “Well, I didn’t have to go poo — but now that you’ve mentioned it, I have to go NOW.” And so now the poor woman is driving down the road looking for a sanitary place to lighten her load – “McDonalds? No. Gas Station? No. Oh thank God, a Barnes and Noble!!”

I actually feel a bit powerful, making an authoritative pronouncement to a complete stranger, then driving quickly away so there are no repercussions or follow up questions.

At upcoming intersections, I toy with the idea of rolling down my window to tell other drivers things like:

“I think you need to call your mother.”

“I think you’d look better as a redhead.”

“I think you have a dead body stashed in your attic.”

But before I can implement my new Roaming Advice Plan, Tucker lets loose a series of foghorn blasts that leaves us both gasping for air and giggling uncontrollably.

— Darcy Perdu

Original Illustration for So Then Stories by Shelly Draven

Please pop your email address in the Purple Box below so you can receive funny NEW posts twice a week!

(Any examples when you accidentally told/texted/emailed info to the wrong person? If someone drove up right next to you and told you that you had to poo, how would YOU react? Who emits the most impressive flatulence in your family? Do you ever feel like YOU are a Random Roving Psychic? And seriously — DO you have a dead body stashed in your attic?)
Random Roving Psychic P (Shelly 7.16.13)

Making a Bodacious Blunder – in Front of My Boss — OF COURSE

Of Course I Make a Bodacious Blunder in Front of My New Boss! So Embarrassing & So Funny!  #humor #boss #office

So then…she starts rattling off all the things we need to do on the day of the big benefit, so I scribble notes as quickly as I can.

This is only my second week on the job, so I’m not entirely familiar with everything my boss is saying, but there are 3 other staffers in the office with us and they all seem to be nodding along.

I just graduated college — and now I’ve moved to Manhattan to work in public relations at a Fortune 500 company on Park Avenue! I can’t believe my good fortune, but I know I have to work my ass off to keep the job!

My co-workers are all fast-talking New Yorkers, so I struggle a bit to keep up (what with me being a sweet drawlin’ Southern gal and all).

My boss lets loose a brisk list of directives involving the caterer, tele-prompters, speakers, nametags, photographers, and music.

As she doles out assignments, she says, “OK, Darcy, you’ll take the limo over to CBS to pick up one of the honorees, Marlene Sanders, and bring her over to the Waldorf Astoria. Go straight to the VIP reception. Brenda, make sure the speeches are in the press packets over in the — ”

But the rest of the sentence fades away because all I can think of is the part where she told me to go pick up broadcaster Marlene Sanders at CBS. I can’t do that.

But I don’t know if my boss knows that I can’t do that.

And I don’t want to interrupt her rapid-fire commands to the group – especially since everyone else seems to be taking their tasks in stride.

I’m starting to sweat. I can barely concentrate. I want to be the can-do girl, I really do – but I have to tell them I can’t do this. It will be worse if I keep it to myself.

So in the middle of her monologue, I boldly blurt, “I’m so sorry but I can’t pick up Marlene Sanders and take her to the Waldorf! I only have a Louisiana driver’s license, not New York! And I think you need to have a special LIMO license to drive a limo, anyway, and there’s no way I can get one of those by Friday—“

Everyone stares at me.

I blush from head to toe.

My boss bursts out laughing. “Darcy, we don’t expect you to DRIVE the limo to pick up Marlene. Just go IN the limo with the chauffeur, pick her up, and escort her to the VIP reception to make sure she gets where she needs to be.”

I am mortified.

Everyone giggles. The other staffers roll their eyes at my naiveté. They will repeat this story in the lunch room for weeks to come.

But I don’t care.

Because I am so frikkin’ relieved!

I cannot tell you the PANIC I felt — just thinking about me being unlicensed and trying to drive a big-ass limousine through the chaotic streets of New York, desperate to find a parking spot near the CBS building!

Thank God I only had to ride in the limo. This is a talent for which I am uniquely qualified!

— Darcy Perdu

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Original Illustration by Mary Chowdhury for So Then Stories

(OK, out with it! Share the times you’ve embarrassed yourself in front of your co-workers or boss! Whether it was a summer job in college – or your first day in your current career – I KNOW you made a bodacious blunder or a funny faux pas – so share it with us in the Comments below!)

What the Hell Is He TALKING About?

Red Lamp
So then…David and I eat breakfast at the kitchen table.

David: Did you see that detective show the other day?

Me: The one with the red lamp?

David: Yeah.

Me: Yeah, what about it?

David: That’s all.

Me: That’s all? What do you mean: “That’s all?” Why did you bring it up?

David: I was trying to make small talk.

Me: And that was it? “Did you see a TV show the other day?” “Yeah.” “OK.”  That was it? You didn’t have any follow-up planned? What kind of small talk is that?

David (laughing): Pretty small, I guess.

— Darcy Perdu

(Ever run out of conversation topics with your mate? Who’s best at small talk at your house? What’s your lamest conversation-opener?  Any tips on a great way to get the dialogue going?  Share in the Comments Section.)

What the Hell is He TALKING About P Small

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My Daughter, the Italian Truck Driver

My Daughter, the Italian Truck Driver P Clear
So then…I confirm I’m available for dinner with the other three Margarita Mamas a week from Tuesday, but I add a P.S. to the email, directed to one of the Moms who is known for meticulous and enthusiastic grooming for herself and her daughter.

I write:
Kate, I can’t believe I’m asking this question because my daughter is only 12 years old, but she has the big bushy eyebrows of an Italian truck driver. Where do you take your daughter for her eyebrow waxing/shaping — and once you start, do you have to go weekly to maintain it? If so, that’s too much money and I will just change Chloe’s name to Emilio the Hairy-Eyebrowed Truck Driver.

My Daughter, the Italian Truck Driver Movie Star                   (the eyebrows look a little something like this)

Mindy chimes in:
I know Kate has a place she likes, but you can also consider xxxxxx Salon. Going every 2 weeks should be fine – or teach her how to pluck! Poor Emilio…

Kate writes:
My daughter and I go to xxxxxx Salon. We go every two weeks and it’s about $20. You may not have to take her that often. Good luck!

I respond to all THREE Moms, jokingly:
Thanks, Kate & Mindy, for your referrals for eyebrow shaping. Sherry, where do you take Jack?

Sherry responds:
You’re hilarious! I was cracking up when I read the first e-mail. Jack wears his hair so long, I think he’s going for the “Cousin It” look. I’m not even sure if he has eyebrows…

I respond:
Love the Cousin It remark! I literally had to bribe Tucker to get a haircut and to shave his long sideburns and wispy hair that is growing along his jawbone. He wanted to “grow it in to see if it would become a beard.” The hair stylist and I told him it would take CENTURIES to grow those wisps into a beard — and it would just be a beard UNDER his chin, so he’d end up looking like one of the Appalachian hill people! Lord help us!

Sherry replies:
Ugh, boys and their hair. I thought my daughter would be way worse, but my son’s the difficult one. Yet, he still wants me to comb his hair every morning. I asked him if I’d be getting a key to his apartment when he moves out — or should I just move in next door, so I’d still be able to comb his hair in the morning. He just gave me “the look.” My daughter laughed. But him, not so much. As for Tucker, I would love to have seen him before the haircut and shave. What “style” station are they watching that they think it’s a good look for them? National Geographic – Neanderthal/Appalachian Style Network…?

I respond:
That’s hilarious about you possibly having to live next door to your adult son so you can comb his hair each morning! As for Tucker, when his hair grows – it grows OUT – not DOWN — so he looks like he has a poofy big-hair coiffure like a 1960’s librarian. I was so relieved he consented to cut it short!

My Daughter, the Italian Truck Driver Librarian                                   1960’s Librarian Hairstyle

Click here to see photos of overgrown eyebrows of Chloe (aka Emilio the Truck Driver)
Click here to see Tucker’s 1960’s librarian hairstyle and Appalachian wispy under-chin beard

(NOTE: If photo links do not work, it’s possible my children have disabled my linking capabilities and hidden all photos of themselves, lest they be publicly humiliated.)

— Darcy Perdu

(Any fun follicle follies to share about YOUR kids? Anybody who shuns haircuts, eyebrow waxing, and beard shaving to live a more hirsute lifestyle? With our Italian-Irish heritage, our family’s soooo lucky that our dark bushy hair really POPS on our pale alabaster skin! I practically have to shave my legs HOURLY! Share your hair tales in the Comments Section!)

My Daughter, the Italian Truck Driver P

18 Outrageous Body Painting Jobs! BOOBALICIOUS — and HILARIOUS!

So then…I gasp.

And gape.

And gawk.

And giggle.

I am literally in shock as I see the images that pop up when searching “Why Middle-Aged Women Shouldn’t Be Allowed to Drink” for a post I’m writing.

I’m just looking for your garden-variety drunken face-plant, but INSTEAD I see this:

Painted Boobs 1 Ladies Budweiser
Now, I don’t know who these ladies are – but I totally want to party with them!

They obviously have a FABULOUS sense of humor!

Yes, they are topless — and yes, they have painted their bosoms to look like bulging frog eyes.

They’re lettin’ it ALL hang out!

And what’s even more hysterical is that:

from the neck UP, they totally look like they could be accountants or PTA presidents –

but from the neck DOWN, it’s all P-A-R-T-Y!!
Googly-eyed boobie frogs with frisky tongues and unbuttoned jeans! Hilarious!

Now, I don’t normally shake my ta-tas in public, sans clothing – but I can kind of understand the allure of partying topless with some fun, colorful paint decorations.

Like these chicks who are celebrating Mardi Gras — let the good times roll and the tits swing! I get it. Rock on, sisters.

Painted Boobs 2 Mardi Gras
But what the hell is going on here?

Painted Boobs 2.5 Disney
Is she actually AT Disneyland?

I already shared with you the ONE Thing That Disneyland Insists You Do NOT Bring to Their Park – but apparently Disneyland needs to clarify that you DO need to bring a boob-covering of some kind.

And just as I’m wondering if her parents would be mortified to learn their daughter is exposing herself by baring her Mickey-Minnie breasts…

Painted Boobs 3 Mickey Mouse

I see the family portrait, which indicates that Mom and Dad not only approve of her behavior, but Mom joins in the boobie-baring fun!

Of course, I shudder to think what a full-length photo might reveal that Dad has decorated down below – perhaps a Penile Pluto? Yikes!

Apparently, boob-painting allows people to share their passions in a visually-striking way –

The patriotic:

Painted Boobs 4 Patriotic
The sports fan:

Painted Boobs 5 Sports Fan
The animal lover:

Painted Boobs 6 Penguins
The cartoon enthusiast:

Painted Boobs 7 Cartoon
The art lover:

Painted Boobs 8 Starry Night
Talk about Vincent Van Go-Go!
This is actually a gorgeous rendition of Starry, Starry Night.
You can’t help but be impressed with the craftsmanship of this paint job.

On the other hand, this chick seems singularly UNIMPRESSED with her paint job:
Painted Boobs 9 Skulls Not Happy
She’s like, “Yeah, I guess I’ll show ya. I wanted to coordinate my tits with my skull jacket – but I dunno, once I finished, I just wasn’t feelin’ it, ya know? The flames just look like heartburn. I shoulda gone with the Budweiser Frogs.”

I imagine her at a party, all bummed out over her lackluster Skull Boobs, when suddenly she notices someone enter. “Aw shit,” she mumbles, “Look who’s here – it’s Butterfly Girl.”

Painted Boobs 10 Butterfly

Yowza! Now THAT’S a paint job to be proud of!

If I had a body like this, I’d paint myself like this every day and go about my business. I’m not kidding. If I lose a few pounds, I’m totally doing this. And not just for special occasions. EVERY DAY. Look for me at Target and the post office and the bank. I’m the Bad-Ass Butterfly right in front of you in line.

This next lady looks lovely too, but I’m not digging her pose.

Painted Boobs 11 Purple

It’s like she had to gracefully pause, mid-photo, for a delicate toot.

Pass gas on your own time, lady!

And body painting is NOT just for super models and the cool kids!

Painted Boobs 12 Star Trek

Geeks love it too!
Live long and prosper you Star Trek pranksters, you!

(Somewhere, Spock is turning over in his grave.)
(And he’s not even dead yet.)

Liz Lemon on “30 Rock” has a wonderful expression when she is very excited about something. She stares intensely and says, “”

I think a lot of men would see this photo:

Painted Boobs 13 Vegas

And say the same thing: “”
To Vegas.
Or to this lady.
Or both.

But this photo will make you say “”

Painted Boobs 14 Zombie

Oh she seems nice enough.
But the body paint is just…um…no…wrong…eek eek…run away, run away!

Meanwhile, I have no idea what the HELL is going on here:

Painted Boobs 15 Baseball

Her arm is a bat? One boob is a man? One boob is a ball? The man is holding the bat? What the hell? Just too much going on here! I’m dizzy!  Hit me with the bat, please!

So apparently unicorns DO exist – and they have access to spray paint and bicycles.

Painted Boobs 16 Bike Riders

I especially love the facial expressions of complete nonchalance on the painted ladies – they’re all business-like, totally serious, like: “Nothing to see here, folks, just ridin’ our bikes.”

I do sense a little frustration from Red-Yellow Lady, though – I’m getting that vibe like “Dammit, Lucy, I told you to get ORANGE paint — mixing red and yellow DID NOT work at ALL.”

Blue Babe, meanwhile, is fine with paint in every crack and crevice – but clearly draws the line at her ears. “Not the ears! Not the EARS!”

And you can tell Blue Babe and Not-Even-Close-To-Orange Lady are being all judge-y of Yellow Chick for showing so much skin while rockin’ her painted bikini – like, “Why doesn’t that tramp paint her limbs like us? Show some modesty, for God’s sake! There are CHILDREN present!”

All I can think is how uncomfortable it is to ride a bicycle seat with SHORTS on – so if the only thing separating you and the bike seat on a long ride is a thin layer of paintHoly Shizznit!

Meanwhile, lots of blue paint on this lady below:

Painted Boobs 17 Corset
This seems like a lot of trouble go to, in order to appear to be wearing a sexy corset, panties, and stockings. And isn’t the point of such sensual undergarments to inspire your lover to rip them from your body and ravish you? So in this case – what? Seems a little less sexy if he’s gotta get out the paint remover and a rag…

Or does he just ravish you WHILE you’re painted blue? But if the paint’s transferable, would he end up looking like a member of Blue Man Group? Including his member?

Other photos show people who seem completely surprised that their boobs are painted…

Painted Boobs 18 Surprised Face
Like “OMIGOD, I just woke up! What the hell IS this? Who put this face here?”

Other photos show people who try too hard…

Painted Boobs 19 Trying Too Hard


And some people who didn’t try quite hard enough…

Painted Boobs 20 Smiley Face Try Harder
Come on, dude, seriously?
Is that the best you can do?
That’s hardly worth opening a can of paint.

But I do applaud the positive message of a smiley face – so rock on, brother.

Finally, I find a good face plant photo for my other post. But these body painting photos are so bizarre, I just had to share them with you.  (And since they’re posted on Google Images, I guess these fine folks are happy to share their artistic expression with everyone!)  And honestly, I’m impressed with their bold joie de vivre!  Hat’s off to you!  (Or bra’s off, as the case may be.)

Meanwhile, I’m a little worried that you might think I’m obsessed with boobs (I am) since I’ve previously posted about my brilliant invention to corral those wily puppies – and I’ve posted about the time my boob was trapped mid-mammogram when a fire broke out – and now I’m regaling you with photos of painted ta-tas today –

But hey, EVERYONE loves boobies!
And the more colorful and fun — the better!

Even grandmas want in on the Painted Cha-Chas:

Painted Boobs 21 Granny's Swinging
Swing looow, sweet bosom, swing looow…

— Darcy Perdu

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And if you enjoyed THIS post, you’ll LOVE these — so click the images below!

The FUNNIEST Difference between Men and Women (Hint: Porno Pictionary!) #funny #games #menvswomen #humor

Vaginas on Parade! #funny #parade #holiday #humor

 How to Get Your Freak On (DISCREETLY) #funny #fetish #oops #humor

(How many cocktails would YOU need to chug to Paint Your Boobs and Parade Around Town?  WHAT would you paint them? Get creative, people! Which is your favorite photo above – for creativity, humor, or artistic talent?)

Painted Boobs 1 Ladies Budweiser


Honestly, CONTROL Yourself

Honestly CONTROL Yourself
So then…I hear the guy sitting next to me say to his companions, “Did you see Trey at the club last night? What the hell was on his neck?”

I slide my eyes over in his direction, while pretending to continue scrolling through my phone. I’m sitting in the waiting area at the Las Vegas airport and the conversation to my left is much more interesting than my work emails.

What was on Trey’s neck? A hickey? A ruby necklace? A boa constrictor?

Until the flight boards, I listen in on their conversation while they trash Trey, debate the merits of two dancers they met at an after-hours club, complain about their hotel, and dish about their co-workers.

I am fascinated. Of the three guys, Bobby, in particular, is my favorite since he’s funny, irreverent, and gregarious. The whole time they’re talking, he is ripping off pieces of a gigantic blueberry muffin that is literally the size of his head.

It is the most ENORMOUS muffin I have ever seen.

He rips a piece, eats it, then joins in the verbal banter, rips a piece, eats it, and so on.

This goes on for 20 minutes, then finally he has eaten the entire muffin except for one last teeny tiny little piece on the paper plate.

Honestly Control Yourself Crumbs

He looks down, dramatically wraps the plastic wrap over the plate, and pointedly says to his companions, “They say you should always leave something on your plate; don’t be a PIG.”

He tosses his head, smiles smugly, and sits back in his chair.

All of us bust out laughing.

I don’t even try to pretend I’m not eavesdropping.

Bobby gives us all a fake “what? what?” look, then joins in the laughter too.

Now whenever I am down to the last tiny bite of a HUGE plate of pasta or a GIANT piece of cake, I think of Bobby and demurely push aside that last teeny bit, so that I “always leave something on my plate” lest someone thinks I’m being a piggie.

— Darcy Perdu

(Do you leave a little on the plate – or polish off every last bite? What’s your best method to control yourself while eating, drinking, shopping, gambling, sexing? Ever overheard something funny in an airport? Do tell in the Comments Section!)

Honestly CONTROL Yourself P

I Won A FREAKING Award, Ya’ll!

I Won An Award
So then…I scream, “HOT DAMN & HALLELUJAH!  I WON!  I WON!”

I dance a little jig — my goofy grin beaming.

I am so excited!  Blogher just announced the Voices of the Year winners for the upcoming Blogher Conference in Chicago!

My mind’s ablaze with this fantastic news – and yet, my Rationale Self can’t help but add some much-needed perspective…

Me:  I won, I won!  I am aaaaaawesome!

Rational Self (RS):  Fantastic!  What did you win?

Me:  I dunno – “Funniest Writer in the World” or something like that!  Blogher chose ME!

RS:  Well, read the article.

Me: Oh, OK, there were 2,600 submissions and Blogher chose 100 Voices of the Year – including me!  WooHoo!  I’m the 4th Best Humor Writer on the Internet!

RS:  4th Best Humor Writer – are you sure?

Me: Yeah, see right here – Darcy Perdu is the 4th name on the Humor list!

RS:  Is it possible the names are listed in alphabetical order?

Me:  Oh.

RS:  Hmm.

Me: Well, maybe that is a COINCIDENCE!  Maybe everyone’s rank happens to COINCIDE with the first letter of their na—

RS: Darcy…

Me: OK, OK, but STILL!  I am on the list of the 25 Humor Voices!  This is amazing!  I’m gonna write a speech and—

RS:  Are you sure there’s a speech?

Me:  Yes, see, the article says the speeches will be given by, given by…oh.  OK, well they chose 3 people for speeches in each category, but not me.  Hmm.  OK, but I’m happy for them.

RS:  Really?

Me:  Yes, of course, I’m happy for them – in a totally jealous, but reluctantly respectful, way because I just read their damn posts and they are damn hilarious!

RS:  They are very funny.

Me:  Yeah, and it says here I get to go up on stage with the other winners and take a bow and get my picture taken and receive a gold-plated Rolls Royce!

RS:  Really?

Me:  Well, I don’t know about the last part, but I get to go on staaaaaaaaage!  I am trying on outfits RIGHT NOW!

RS:  The conference isn’t for 3 weeks.  Don’t be psycho.

Me: OK, but in my HEAD, I am trying on outfits – and I – look – FABULOUS!

RS:   Great.

Me:  And they list the websites of the other 24 bloggers in the Humor category, so I can email ALL of them – and we will become besties – and hang out at the whole conference together!!  Maybe I can sew us some sashes that say Humor VOTY – or hot glue some rhinestones on matching tiaras – OMIGOD, I CANNOT WAIT!  I am too excited!  We can conspire together to create some crazy skits when we’re on stage like Tina Fey and Amy Poehler and Melissa McCarthy do at the Emmys & Golden Globes!   Omigod, I should totally contact Tina and Amy and Melissa.  And Mindy Kaling and Jenny Lawson and David Sedaris.  They are so gonna wanna know about my award!!  Where is the of the writing world?!  I need their contact info STAT!!

RS:  (puts head down on desk and sighs)

— Darcy Perdu

Check out the other incredible bloggers in the Humor Category for Voices of the Year 2013.  They are so fun and funny (and my soon-to-be besties!)

In the Humor category:

Lisa Carpenter from Grandma’s Briefs receives the People’s Choice Award for Humor for The Grandma in a Box, and the readers for Humor will be:

And check out the other 75 amazing Voices of the Year in the categories of Heart, Inspiration, and Op Ed at

Thank you, Blogher, for this awesome honor!  I am so excited!  And thank you, everyone who has been reading my blog – you are rockstars!

Darcy Perdu

(Send me decoration ideas for sashes and tiaras for the Humor VOTY gang!  And tell all your friends you are now reading an AWARD-WINNING BLOG!  Woot!  Woot!  Share your Comments!) 
I Won a FREAKING Award, Ya'll

How to Get Your Freak On — DISCREETLY

How to Get Your Freak On (DISCREETLY)  #funny #fetish #oops #humor

So then…I totally crack up. My friend Mindy, whose husband produces TV commercials, sends this genuine email to me and a bunch of her friends to request something for her husband’s shoot:

Subject: Rick’s latest commercial
Hey, if you know of anyone who would want to do this… yourselves included, please forward along…

Hands and Feet Wanted for commercial!!!
I am a producer of TV commercials and I’m shooting a Public Service Announcement the week of April 15th.

I am looking for female hands and feet. Age range 21-40.

Pay will be $150 for a one-day shoot at ***** Studio in Woodland Hills.

If you’re interested, please photograph the top of your hands and/or the top side of your feet and email the photos to: *********@********

Please, no jewelry or tattoos.

I know it’s a legitimate request, but I just can’t help myself.  I send a “Reply to All” saying:

That is the most creative method of gathering fetish porn that I have ever heard of!

Clearly Rick is titillated by sexy feet and this is his clever attempt to amass a large collection of feet photos under the guise of a casting call.

Nicely played, Rick, nicely played.

I myself am shooting a PSA commercial about male reproductive organs, so please send me photos of male penises.

Peni? Penises? Not certain of the plural terminology.

Whatever the case, please submit photos to

Unlike Rick who prohibits jewelry and tattoos, I actually prefer such adornments, so go wild!

Age range 21 – 40. No elderly peni please.

My sister responds with:
I’d be happy to share my penis photo collection with you when you visit next weekend.
— Della

My friend Kate responds with:
The plural for penis would be cocks.
— Kate

Ha! Thanks for clearing that up, Kate! I want to be grammatically correct when I solicit my fetish porn!

And speaking of funny porno stories…here’s a doozy!

— Darcy Perdu

 to your Humor Board!

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(Receive any odd emails?  Know someone who REALLY likes feet? or hands? or peni?  Would you let your feet be filmed for $150?)