Stylin' in the Afterlife

Let's talk about coffins. An uncomfortable subject, perhaps, but--like it or not--most of us are going to end up in one. Or an urn. Well, except for the woman I once did an estate plan for who wanted her ashes scattered "maybe on a sidewalk in Paris, or perhaps in the ocean, on a sunny day, while the dolphins are frolicking." I'm not even making this up. That's actually what she said.

Not that there's anything wrong with having your ashes scattered on a sidewalk in Paris or on top of frolicking dolphins but you need to: a) pick one or the other. Dolphins or Paris. Otherwise your loved one(s) will argue and/or feel confused; and b) actually NAME a loved one to perform the scattering.

Because I hate to tell you this, but requesting merely that "someone" fly your ashes to a different continent and dump them out pretty much guarantees that your final resting place will be the inside of a vacuum cleaner. Especially if you don't leave any money to pay for "someone's" travel expenses. I'm just saying.

(Stacey aside: You are SO wise. Go on with your bad lawyer self. Really, ya'll, Julie is a for real life lawyer and knows some stuff about this kind of stuff. Heed her words and all that.)

Legal advice over. Back to the main topic. Coffins. Caskets. (Is there a difference, I wonder??) It turns out, they're not all just black and hideous and depressing anymore. In fact, some of them are quite stylish. Like . . .

Louis Vuitton handbag coffin

Julie: The sad thing is that this is the size of my actual purse.

Stacey: I think my purse is bigger. By the time I fit diaper bag stuff for baby and food for the 5 year old who is always hungry but will eat nothing but bananas and peanut butter sandwiches, I need a small carry on with me at all times.

A Laplander Sled Coffin

With this replica of a Laplander sled, Richard Mullard has created his own coffin that will enable him to be buried wearing his skis as if on a final expedition (Top Ten Crazy Coffins chosen by David Crampton, Director of Vic Fern Co. Ltd.)

Julie: So, basically they took a body bag and tied it onto a sled with a bunch of rope. This is a bit too creepy for me. People shouldn't be able to see the outline of your dead body. I'd rather just see it, you know? Otherwise my imagination conjures up all sorts of images that I'm sure are far worse than whats actually under there. So either keep your dead body covered up where I can't see your lumpy outline or expose yourself to the world so I don't spend your entire memorial service wondering if you look like something from the Mummy.

Stacey: Amen. What you said about that. But honestly, all bodies give me the creeps. I don't want to see your earthly shell after your soul is gone. I think cremation should be mandatory. But...yeah...I guess I'm weird like that. (My big sister insisted on an open casket during my father's funeral and that kind of scarred me for life. I just...yeah, I don't want to go there. I want to remember people the way they were. Alive. And shit.)

Some coffins are stylish AND functional.

Check out these offerings from The Old Pine Box --

The "Pioneer"

"The Pioneer may be purchased with a shelf option . . . to serve as storage or display for any of your fine articles. It comes standard with a removable lid that may be stored separately or if a cabinet style is preferred, you may order a hinged lid."

Julie: Is it scary that I actually looked at this and thought "Wow, what an awesome idea!"??

Stacey: Yes. It is. Actually. *scoots to the other side of the blog*

The "Vinters Vessel"

"The "Vinter's Vessel" will make itself extremely useful during your lifetime and after. When needed as a burial vessel, the interior framework slides out to be re-assembled as a free standing wine rack. This will allow your collection to be displayed at your wake, permitting your mourners to do as the coffin's medallion instructs: 'Celebrate my life.'

The "Vinter's Vessel" will house 19 bottles of wine in the lower portion. The upper third of the coffin provides space for your wine glasses."

Julie: Forget that deer statue I offered to buy you a few posts ago, Stacey. THIS is the ultimate housewarming gift, especially if the hubs gets into wine school in California. (Wine school? Is that what it's called? That doesn't sound right. Vinter's school?) A wine rack AND a coffin. How's that for dual purpose?

Stacey: I actually LOVE this! As long as my loved ones cremate me and just use the wine and the glasses to party after I'm dead. I want my people to party after I'm gone. (Because we had good times together, not because they're glad the witch is finally dead. Lol.) And yes, you can get this for me. I'd also like a pony if you're really feeling generous ;).

The "Chariot"

"A simply designed pet coffin with sliding lid and decorative trim . . .Until needed for its ultimate use, the Chariot can function beautifully as your pet's toy box."

Julie: Are there people who actually bury their pets in a coffin? Really? Is that a Northern thing? We just wrap ours in a trash bag. And by "we" I mean my husband. At least, in my mind he wraps them in a trash bag. I'm pretty sure I don't want to know what he really does--because I'm 100% certain it doesn't involve a neat little wooden box with sliding lid and decorative trim.

Stacey: This is why I don't have pets. It's hard enough to figure out what to do with my house plants when I inevitably kill them.

OR, you could forget the traditional and have yourself turned into something really useful like. . . a princess cut diamond ring. . .


Or perhaps a nice necklace.

"LifeGem is a certified, high quality diamond created from the carbon of your loved one as a memorial to their unique life, or as a symbol of your personal and precious bond with another. Because like the memory of a loved one, a diamond lasts forever."

Julie: People think I'm kidding, but I'm really doing this. I'm having myself turned into a diamond ring. And my husband into matching earrings. For real. I think it's the most awesome idea ever. Who wants to drag around a stupid urn or trek out to a depressing cemetery?

A nice piece of jewelry, on the other hand--well, who wouldn't want that? I think it makes much more sense to leave my daughter with platinum earrings and ring than a yucky urn or the hassle of a cemetery plot.

Stacey: And this is why you are wise and awesome and I turn to you in times of trouble. Excellent idea. I'll do that too.

Stacey and Julie Out!

People's Choice Awards: The Good, the Bad, & Johnny Depp

The People's Choice Awards!

We really couldn't care less who won what. We, the people of this blog, care only about the fashion!

Stacey: I'm not allowed to comment on this picture. Ever since I saw New Moon with my stepdaughters and confessed to how shockingly hot I found this boy, my husband has been prowling around the house in a werewolf-like rage. At one point he even called me a dirty old woman, which led to a big argument about the difference in our ages versus the age difference between Taylor and I and whether the hubs would feel like a pervert for finding a 22-year-old-woman attractive and then...well, it's just been...unpleasant. So yeah. No comment. (Hot!! So hot! And he's gotta turn 18 eventually!)

Julie: Control yourself, Stace, becauseaccording to Wikipedia, he's going to turn 18 in just FOUR WEEKS! (February 11th) Perhaps we should do a blog dedicated to him on that day with lots of pictures. Shirtless pictures. Did you see him host Saturday Night Live? He did a BACK FLIP. And a bunch of kung fu-ish fighting moves. Except I do have trouble letting go of the image of him as a little kid in Sharkboy and Lavagirl.

Stacey: Feb. 11th it is!! Wheeee!!!

Stacey: Grrr.....she does not deserve Taylor boy. She's too pure and perfect and busy singing about how the rest of we chicks "threw away our love on boys who changed their minds" while she achieved all her "big dreams". Suck it, Swift. You're not better than we are! And kissing around on boys can still be fun even when they--or you--change your minds at a later date. (Analogy: We might regret eating the chocolate cake when we can't fit in our jeans, but we can always go on a diet. You, however, will never have known the yumminess of the chocolate cake. We feel sorry for you, Taylor. We really, really do.)

Julie: She is pure and perfect, yet strangely--I love her. Normally I would despise her and make snarky comments about her squinty eyes, but instead I think they're cute. But you're right; she definitely doesn't deserve him. And she's apparently ditched him! (or so the gossip blogs are saying). Her stupidity is your opportunity, Stacey. You could comfort him in his time of need.

Stacey: Unfortunately for Taylor boy, I'm taken. But I'm sure my nearly sixteen year old stepdaughter would love to offer comfort! Lol!

Stacey: Her spiderweb apron is on backwards. I have the same one. Common mistake...when you're blond.

Julie: The dress is kind of--well, spidery but those shoes kick ass, I must say. I want them. Too bad they probably cost more than my car.

Stacey: I think she has some sort of weaponry strapped to her chest.

Julie: She's like the goth Princess Leia.

Stacey: What's she trying to prove? With that watermelon tummy and scrawny rest-of-her? The swollen-all-over, 200 pound woman I was a little over a year ago kind of hates her. A lot.

Julie: She's trying to prove that Teri Hatcher isn't the only one who can hide stuff inside her dress.

Stacey: Snarf!

Stacey: Is that a rat tail? For real? I'm...speechless.

Julie: You're worried about the rat tail? I'm more concerned about those black shiny . . . things hanging off her dress. What are they? Windchimes? Shredded paper?

Stacey: I don't care. The rat tail blinded me with its Scary and I hardly noticed the outfit.

Stacey: I'm depressed now. Their black and greyness hath brought me low.

Julie: I have no idea who these people are, but clearly they weren't invited for their sparkling auras and eye-catching style, so at least one of them must be famous, right? Or related to somebody famous? They're like Mr. & Mrs. Desolate. They should be on an anti-depressant commercial. "Depression hurts". . . my eyes.

Stacey: Why is he so shiny all over? He looks slippery, in the oiled pig kind of way. (And we Arkansas girls know what one of them looks like.)

Julie: The used car salesman you wish had sold you that Toyota.

Stacey: She's like a delicate, flowery dumpling. I want to dip her in sweet and sour sauce and eat her. Or maybe just eat her dress.

Julie: You know what she reminds me of? One of those scented sachets filled with potpourri that you put in your dresser drawers. I want to tie a ribbon around her and tuck her in between my socks and underwear.

Stacey: YES! She would make your underthings smell like jasmine....or something.

Stacey: I was wondering where all the bows I bought for the kids' Christmas presents got off to. And here I'd been thinking they were lost in the move.

Julie: If only she'd had the guts to pull the whole thing together by wearing a giant, matching bow on her head, Minnie Mouse style. At least then I could have given her points for ballsiness. Go big or go home, bow girl.

Stacey: He's fourteen years older than I am. FOURTEEN! Yet, would anyone think it gross if I thought he was cute or he thought I was cute? NO! They wouldn't! So what's the big deal about the fifteen years between me and my werewolf? There is no big deal. So take that, hubs and the rest of you sexist jerks who are trying to make me feel bad for appreciating a younger man. Cougar, out.

Julie: Ahhh, Johnny Depp. On anybody else this outfit would conjure up words like "unemployed" or "homeless," but somehow he just looks hot. But then again, I guess that's why People made him Sexiest Man Alive.

Tune in next week for our discussion of stylish final resting places.

xoxo

Stacey and Julie

Break out the champagne!!

It's a new year! Actually, a whole new decade--2010, which I was pronouncing "two thousand and ten" until I read this article and learned that I'm supposed to be saying "twenty ten."

Really. There's a facebook page and everything. Two of them, in fact. I thought about joining one or both, but then I remembered that would require me to actually log in to my facebook, which would cause me to see the 96 messages and five million assorted requests I haven't replied to so I decided to pour a glass of champagne instead.

As the 1st day of "Twenty ten" we, the good citizens of the United States, are legally required by the Pledge of Allegiance/ Constitution/ every magazine article I've read in the past two weeks to compile a list of New Year's Resolutions. At least one of these resolutions must be a vow to lose weight and/or join a gym.

B.O.R.I.N.G. Maybe I'm just getting old and cynical, but this whole resolution thing just seems tired to me. Why don't people make more exciting promises? Or, at the very least, resolve to do stuff that's bad for them?

Julie's New Year's Resolutions

1.) Watch more TV. Like, 10-15 hrs a week. (Disney channel does NOT count) Because I'm tired of having no clue what people are talking about, particularly when it comes to who got eliminated on American Idol.

2.) Get my own gun (preferably pink) because my husband's are too heavy.

3.) Use gun to shoot chickens who refuse to die and keep pooping all over everything.

4.) Stop volunteering at daughter's school. It's never enough, so why keep putting out the effort? Sit home and eat bon-bons; that's what they assume I'm doing anyway.

5.) Read more trashy magazines, specifically "Stars Without Makeup" and "Worst Beach Bodies" articles to boost self-esteem.

6.) Curse more.

Stacey's New Year's Resolutions:

Damn, this is fracking hard. Unlike Julie, I already curse plenty and have no desire to own a gun or shoot chickens. We're not allowed to have chickens in my new apartment. (I'm sure if we were and if my husband insisted on owning chickens, then I'd probably want to shoot them too.)

But I do like the idea of low stress New Year's resolutions...

1. Delete my myspace page because I hate myspace. I always have and I'm tired of this abusive relationship in which I hate it and it still continues to exist.

2. Wear my boots in the house and dirt-worries be damned. I like wearing my boots. They give me the delusion that I might actually be in charge around here. (I'm easily influenced by footwear.)

3. Stop cleaning up my sons' toys. They just get pulled out again the next day. Why bother? I will live in a huge playpen and not worry about stepping on small plastic things that kill my feet because I will be wearing boots. (See #2)

4. Buy more boots to wear in the house.

5. Spend my money on new tattoos and buy my baby bargain formula. (He's supposed to be transitioning to milk anyway, but he refuses to give up his Enfamil. Big baby. Of course it could be some sort of baby crack the formula companies put in the powder to keep infants addicted to the age of three and thusly earn themselves more money, so perhaps I shouldn't judge the little turd so harshly.)

6. Spend more time indulging my conspiracy theories and writing angry letters.

7. Be late. When you're early you just sit there waiting for everyone else who's always late and wasting time you could be spending writing angry letters or walking around your toy-filled apartment in boots.

So what about you? Any low-stress resolutions?

Back soon for more ZIT in 2010,

Julie and Stacey

Vote for our bio pic and win!

Hello to all the new followers!

Welcome to our blog. We're Stacey and Julie, authors of young adult romance. You might have seen our covers on the sidebar, but until now we've had no shiny bio-pic to post for your getting-to-know-us pleasure. We both live in Arkansas, but several hours apart and we've got kids and husbands and animals and really long hair that requires a stupid-ridiculous amount of tending (Stacey plans to cut her's soon) and, well...it can be hard to get together.

Julie aside: Don't do it, Stacey! Don't cut your hair! If you keep growing yours and I keep growing mine then, when it gets reallllllly, reallllllly long, we'll cut it and turn the shorn locks into something cool. Like a lasso.

Stacey aside: Well...I have always wanted a lasso made of human hair...

Thankfully, however, we managed to meet up for a photo shoot this fall. The results are posted below for your viewing pleasure. (You'll have a chance to vote for your favorite at the end, so pay attention and get out your score cards.)

Another Julie aside: Before you begin voting, please have the record show that Stacey and her husband FORCED me to drink champagne during this photo shoot by offering it to me in a delicate, little champagne glass with a stem and everything, thereby playing directly into my sick weakness for all things "fancy."

Another Stacey aside: My husband and I would like the record to show that we do not support using alcoholic beverages to "loosen" anyone up for the camera...unless their name is Julie Linker and they like things that are "fancy".

ONE:



Stacey: Omg...I'm holding you inappropriately in this one. I've always wanted to hold you inappropriately, but I didn't realize that would be so apparent on film. (Or digital or whatever.) On the other hand, the matchy-matchiness of our outfits--(NOT INTENTIONAL, people, she showed up at my house like this in all her Single White Female-ness and demanded that we be photographed together immediately. She wouldn't even try on the very nice red t-shirt she brought.)---is kind of cute in the matchy-matchy way.

Julie: I think the innappropriate holding makes it obvious who the REAL Single White Female is in this picture, don't you guys? (Hint: the one who isn't me)

Stacey: Just for that I'm not going to correct your misspelling of "inappropriate" up there. *harumph*

TWO:



Stacey: This is a little better for me, though I still look a little like a psycho-killer. You look nice, however.

Julie: Look at my finger! My finger looks like a psycho-killer! What is it doing? Do you see the way it's creeping around your waist, all stealthy and stuff, like it can't decide whether to stab some of your internal organs or steal your wedding ring? My finger is evil! I had no idea. It always seemed so nice.

Stacey: Oh wow, yeah, that finger is evil. I think it might be after my spleen. Or perhaps my pancreas.

THREE:



Stacey: I think I look really, really super smart here (if a little constipated). And you look devious and a bit evil. I like the combo. There could be a world-takeover being plotted here. (Or maybe a blog post about grunt tubes. Take your pick.)

Julie: Shhhhh! You're not supposed to tell about the world-takeover plot.
You're ruining everything! Now what are we going to do with all the grunt tubes we ordered for our army of the undead?

FOUR:



Stacey: If we were in junior high school, this photo would have us RULING the school, RULING it I tell you! (And in another random aside, I think I have an unusually large head. My ex-husband said I did and that our son had inherited my enormous melon. I tried to explain I needed a large head to contain my gigantic brain...but...I mean, really, who am I kidding? I probably have water on the brain that my lousy doctors never bothered to drain off so that I could grow to be a normal-headed person.)

Julie: Do you think if we passed this around at a few junior highs one of them would let us rule it now? I've always wanted to reign over a junior high, but sadly my own JH felt I was better suited to serve as a minion.

Stacey: Me too! I wasn't even a minion, I was just the weird girl who wore lime green stretch pants. I was always forced to the end of the lunch line by a girl named...Julie. Hmm, good thing I don't hold grudges against people with the same names of girls who were jerks to me in junior high. (The other Julie turned out to be much nicer in high school.)

Julie: Incidentally, your hair looks very lovely and shampoo-ad like here, Stacey. Your giant head is hardly noticeable at all.

Stacey: Thanks!

FIVE:



Stacey: I think I look too buff in this one from all my Shredding with Jillian. Your biceps are jealous. I don't want your biceps to feel jealous, Jules. (Also, I can't really pull off pouty. With chipmunk cheeks like these, I'm better off cheesy or broody. No pouting allowed.) But I like the bad-ass thing you've got going on here. That finger means bidness, I can tell. Fear the finger!)

Julie: My finger again! Now it's a gun! Maybe I should stop typing and go put on some gloves. This is starting to freak me out.

My biceps are jealous, it's true. I'm a weakling. I can't even open my own jars.

SIX:



Stacey: You're totally planning to murder me in this shot...and I know it...and I kind of like the idea for some reason. What a frackin' sicko I am!

Julie: If only we had the infamous wicker chair! Then we would totally rule a junior high! (Do they still use the wicker chair, I wonder?) And I am totally planning your murder, btw.

SEVEN:



Stacey: You're moving in for the kill...and I'm still smiling like I'm going to enjoy having my neck snapped at any second...

Julie: Stacey! How could you say such a thing? This is our engagement picture for the newspaper . . . which is exactly why I'm going to kill you because I just found out the "fancy" ring you bought me is really a cubic zirconia from the Everything's $1! store.

Stacey: Hey, baby, you knew I was a struggling writer when we started this whole crazy thing we call luurrve. (And I was just trying to help cure your addiction to "fancy". Why not develop a love for "sparkle" instead? Sparkle can be pretty, but cheaper than fancy.)

EIGHT:



Stacey: Oh WAIT!! Huzzah! Turned the tables on you, bi-atch! See what I can do with those Shredded biceps now!!! (Just kidding, you're totally not a bi-atch...usually ;)). And I would never twist off your head, though I totally could if I wanted to because I am so buff.

Julie: Sniff, sniff. I'd like to believe that you would never twist off my head, but I just can't trust you anymore, not after the cubic zirconia. How could you?

Stacey: I explained that. Just think sparkle thoughts and it will all be okay.

NINE:



Stacey: You've got the cute smile, but I'm still evil. Why can't I stop being evil? Why? I look like a possessed leprechaun.

Julie: I may be smiling cutely, but really I'm pooping on your deck . . .

Stacey: Ahh...I wondered where that big pile of steaming feces came from. I was blaming the giant squirrel.

TEN:



Stacey: Finally. A nice normal picture. A little elbow-y, but it will do.

Julie: Huh. You're right. Except for the elbows, we almost look normal.

ELEVEN:



Stacey: Or maybe we should use this one...:) Nothing like a little girl talk on a teeter totter, while wearing your best knee-high boots with three-inch heels.

Julie: What are you talking about? I've had those boots since 3rd grade. What else are girls supposed to wear on the teeter totter? And now I suppose you're going to try and tell me red stilletos aren't appropriate for the swings.

Stacey: Lol.

Okay people, what say you? Everyone who chimes in with their vote in the comments will be entered to win a ZIT prize pack including all kinds of general fabulous-ness as well as an Advanced Reader copy of Stacey Jay's January release "Undead Much?" All entries must be received by Christmas Eve Day. Winner announced on Christmas Day. (Or soon thereafter...whenever Stacey gets around to it ;)).

Go, vote, wiiiinnnnnn!!!

Julie and Stacey

Urine, Grunt tubes, and Sparkle-deer-pires, oh my!

The holiday season is upon us--Fattening food, presents, twinkling lights, football, sneaking into your sister's bathroom and taking a swig of some kind of sketchy-looking alcohol you found underneath her kitchen cabinet in a desperate effort to keep yourself from stabbing various members of your extended family with your pie fork. Who doesn't love the most wonderful time of the year?!

Deer, that's who. (And also department store Santas and my chihuahua). Because here in the south, holiday season = lure cute adorable bambis to your tree with corn then blow their brains out season.

Okay, so that's an exaggeration. They don't blow their brains out; they shoot them through the heart/lungs/shoulder. Otherwise it'd be awfully hard to mount those antlers up on the wall.

Deer hunters are VERY serious about their sport and will often go to extreme measures to get their "kill shot." Luckily, there are roughly one billion gazillion websites where they can go for advice and tips. See below:

From deerscents.com

A good scent strategy has 3 parts: Eliminate as much human odor as possible, cover up whatever is left and then use attractant scents to bring bucks closer or position them properly for the shot.

"Consider scents part of your overall game plan. You may go all season without seeing any evidence of their effectiveness but when you catch the right buck at the right time with the right scent--you will be rewarded for your efforts."

Here are a sampling of the available products:



Stacey: Because you wouldn't want to use less than 100% pure deer urine. Just the thought of diluting my deer urine with say--water or something equally nasty--makes me want to hurl.

Julie: I want to know who does the quality control testing for this. How do we know it's 100% pure deer urine? More importantly--how, exactly, does one obtain deer urine? I can't imagine that they're lining up to pee in a cup voluntarily.

Stacey: I think it might involve sneak-attacks, urine-sucking tubes, and maybe some ninjas. Not being a woman of the woods, I can't say, but...yeah...

Stacey: This is really the name of this stuff: C'Mere Deer. You just can't say that shizz without a hillbilly twang.

Julie: Love it!! If I were so inclined to douse myself in animal pee this is definitely the brand of pee I would choose. Then I would wander out in the woods calling "C'mere deery, deery, deery!" and they would all come running across the meadow with a cadre of woodland friends and we would sing and frolick and then maybe later they would make me a dress.



Stacey: And from the people at C'Mere Deer, we have Buck Juice. I don't even want to know what that's made of. *shudder, throws up a little bit*

Julie: . . . eeeeeewwwww. I feel vaguely dirty now. I'm disappointed in you C'Mere Deer people. I thought you were different. Why does everything have to be about sex? (How many guys do you think have taken a swig of this on a drunken bet at deer camp?)

Stacey: At least one, which is one too many.

Decoys
"Big bucks don't get big and old by being dumb."
Decoys should be set up well within a bowhunter's effective killing zone



Stacey: I'm sorry, but I wouldn't want to eat the deer that fell for this one. That's one dumb deer. (I fear contracting further dumbness through the food I ingest.)

Julie: That's right--"You are what you eat," after all. Is that really supposed to be a deer? Its head kind of reminds me of a fox. And it maybe needs to consider signing up for Jenny Craig because it's got a bit of a belly on it. I've never seen a deer with a beer gut. Although maybe it's a pregnant decoy? Awww, that would be so cute--maybe in a few weeks it will give birth to cute little baby cardboard decoys.

Stacey: Not all bucks like skinny-ass deer, Julie. Some of them like junk in the trunk. (Would that be her trunk...or her undercarriage...or...what?) I fail deer anatomy.

Stacey: This is better, I'd eat a deer who got shot trying to come sniff around this one.

Julie: Definitely better. I'd never make it as a hunter though because my first thought was "he'd look so cute with a red and green Christmas bow and maybe some bells on his antlers."

Stacey: Oooo!! It's the sparkling deer-pire of the decoy world. Female deer everywhere would come running to save him screaming "No, sparkle-deer-pire, don't step into the liiii-eeettte!!"

Julie: Um, I'm scared. Because I don't think that's a decoy. I'm pretty sure it's a statue. Like, an art statue. It's "Deer decor." (Hahaha, I crack myself up.) Oh, man, Stacey--when you move to CA, I'm SO buying you this as a housewarming gift. That way you'll never forget your roots. Because the giant running deer in your living room won't let you.

Stacey: Sadly, in California I won't have the money to pay for an apartment large enough to fit my entire family, let alone any generous Deer Decor gifts. Though I appreciate the offer!

Deer Calls



Stacey: This is called a "grunt tube". I kid you not. For real. That's what it's called. You couldn't pay me to put my mouth to that.

Julie: I think that came off my car. OMG--my car is secretly a deer hunter! That explains all those shell casings on the floorboard! And why all deer within a hundred mile radius flock to whatever highway I happen to be driving on and dash across it right in front of me, so close that their fur brushes across the front grill, forcing me to slam on my brakes which causes me to lose control of the steering weel and careen wildly toward the giant ditch on the right side so I try to turn back except I overcorrect and hurtle toward the yellow line while my daughter screams and all the random crap I've been meaning to take out of the car for the past year ricochets around the interior and I realize we're going to die and the entire time I'm hearing my dad's voice in my head intoning, "Never, ever swerve for an animal--better that you run over it than lose control of the vehicle and get yourself killed."

(Note to my car: My other car took out a full-grown buck at 60 mph AND a white dog that was inexplicably standing on the interstate in the middle of the night in Little Rock, but so far all you've managed is a series of terrifying near-death experiences. I'm just saying.)

And so concludes our brief foray into the magical, urine-scented world of deer hunting. If any of our readers happen to be avid hunters who don't appreciate us poking fun at your sport, all I have to say is--STACEY DID IT!!!

Yeah, right now she's really writing this, just pretending to be me. I swear. I don't know how she figured out my password. I love deer hunting! I think it's the greatest thing ever! Please don't shoot me! Or her!

Happy Hunting

Stacey and Julie (not really)

Stacey: I have no problems with poking fun at anyone's sport. Next week, giggles with curling.

Craigslist-It can haz funny!

While some people spend their spare time doing things like rock climbing, or painting watercolors, or visiting sick children in the hospital, we spend our free time engaged in actual worthwhile activities, like scrolling through the best-of-craigslist and laughing hysterically. Read on for a view of our most recent faves.

i need help moving my chickens

Date: 2009-07-26, 11:04PM CDT

I have approximately 1,243 chickens that need to be transported, i began my journey with my mini van but just was not working out, too many trips and too much shit and feathers, and with no ac it makes it very difficult when constantly tempted to roll the windows down, and because doing it all by hand i have lost 1 out of 4 chickens with my first 3 trips. if you have reasonable transportation for this chicken operation plz let me know. thank you.

JL: This is one of those times where I really wish the poster had included more information because I have a LOT of questions about this ad. Such as--how, exactly, did he come to be in possession of 1,243 chickens? Because contrary to what you might think, chickens are actually hard to acquire. It's not like when you feed a stray cat a few times and the next thing you know she's dropping litters of kittens in your barbecue grill, or your garage, or--in an unfortunate incident at my mom's house--a pile of brush you've just set on fire and realized too late that it also contains fuzzy baby kittens who you will later discover as charred little bodies that will make everyone cry.

STACEY ASIDE--What the hell? Oh my god, why did you have to tell that story? I'm crying now. And a little sick to my stomach. Ugh--END STACEY ASIDE

JL: Today's chicken eggs will only hatch if incubated in a bank of high-tech equipment operated by a team of scientists from NASA. I know. I spent half of last year navigating around all the chicken hatching equipment in my kitchen because my husband (who, incidentally, is insane)thought it would be a great idea to hatch roughly one gazillion baby chickens next to the pantry. So it's not like this guy had a few hens and a few roosters and things got out of control. He had to work to acquire those 1, 243 chickens. Why? Why would anybody in their right mind want 1,000+ chickens? I would say that must be how he makes a living, except then doesn't it seem like he'd own a chicken trailer or truck or something?

Other questions . . . Is the 1,243 number including or excluding the chickens he lost during the first three trips? Were the lost chickens properly secured in seat belts and/or age/weight appropriate booster seats?

SJ: I have questions too. Like...is it okay to cuss on Craigslist? Because that guy totally dropped the "s" bomb. And why doesn't he have any capital letters at the beginning of his sentences? This isn't a text, it's an AD, buddy. Be a little professional with your request for help with your shitting chickens. God.

Small Space for Right Roommate

About your space: We have a limited time offer for a "nook" in our living room. The nook is currently home to my bike and is 6' x 3'. It is perfect for someone who needs a little respite between apartments and has a comfy sleeping bag. The nook has wall to wall carpeting and has window to private patio. Though it's located in the main living room, you will be assured privacy by the entertainment center and nearby couch. We have limited space in our closet for your things, mostly it's a room for the water heater, our suitcases, and a baby doll on a stick.

JL: Blah, blah, blah--the second paragraph says some boring stuff, but I'm omitting because of aforementioned boringness.

About you: Having experience living with multiple women is a plus, we are open to either male or female roommate. We're opening up the nook for the right person, one who can be mindful of the morning shower routine, pitch in with general cleaning, and bonus points if you can change light bulbs since we're vertically challenged. We'd like to get along with our new nook occupant so please be a responsible, fun-loving, hilarious, and all around good person. We'd like to be entertained so talents are a plus. The rent: Negotiable per above standards Availability: Now through mutually determined date.

JL: My favorite part about this ad is the "baby doll on a stick." Love, love, love it.

SJ: Me too! God, that's disturbing. What were they doing with that baby doll?

Body Dumping Location Available

Date: 2009-07-21, 8:56PM EDT

Don't stuff grandma in the freezer! By now you've probably heard about the Glen Burnie family that stored their 83-year-old grandmother's dead body in a freezer: http://www.baltimoresun.com/news/maryland/anne-arundel/bal-md.ar.freezer15jul15,0,168200.story. It turns out that no law was broken.

Yep, dumping a body is legal around here. Health care workers and other professionals are required to report deaths, but ordinary citizens are not. And, apparently, no state law prohibits the burial or storage of a body on private property. I'm a laid-off Baltimore-area homeowner. After ten months of unemployment, and the future looking even more grim, I'm willing to consider allowing my backyard to be used for body dumping. Call it private burial if you prefer.

I could probably take a half-dozen bodies without arousing the attention of neighbors. It wouldn't hurt to have one under the garden too.

Me: A discreet Baltimore County homeowner with a half-acre of easily tillable property on a quiet dead-end street.

You: An individual (not a health care worker or other professional required to report a death!) with the awkward inconvenience of disposing of a deceased relative, friend, colleague or acquaintance.

You must provide your own trash bags, tarp, quicklime, shovel, etc. I might be available to hold a flashlight, but I won't do any heavy lifting.

Accidental deaths or natural causes only. I'm not going to get involved in any shenanigans with Omar wannabes. I will not be a participant in, or an accessory to, any sort of crime.

This is a limited time offer! Act now before the state legislature changes the law! If and when the law changes (measures failed 10 years ago, after the 1999 incident), you'll be grandfathered, literally and figuratively. Price is negotiable. Serious inquiries only.

JL: Does anybody else get the sense that this guy is kidding--except not really? Fifty bucks says I could get Aunt Fran a prime spot in his garden with a single phone call. Some people might call this ad sick, or twisted, but personally, I think it's a shining example of American ingenuity.

Economy in the toilet? Life savings stolen by Bernie Madoff? Can't get a ____ (fill in the blank--job, credit card, home loan, health insurance policy) to save your life? You could be like hundreds of thousands of other Americans and apply for government benefits (good luck--you'll need it). OR . . . you could stash a few decomposing bodies around your yard for some tidy, tax-free cash!!!

Life handed this guy lemons and he's making lemonade . . . or rather, a backyard cemetery. That's the kind of work ethic this country was built upon.

SJ: !!

Actor needed for emotional role. One day high pay.

My deceased aunt gave my two kids a Cocker Spaniel a few months back. The dog has been a terror and become overwhelming for me. I am a single father raising two young children. I cannot face telling the kids that the dog must go. I have found a good home for the dog, and just need someone to transport the dog, and play the villain.

Premise: You will be the dog walker hired by daddy (me) to walk Skittles. I will introduce you to the kids, and you will tell them you are going to help Skittles get her exercise when Daddy is too busy to walk her. At that point you will walk Skittles to your car and take her to her new family 20 minutes from my place. Then return holding just a leash. The story will be that Skittles broke free of the leash and took off.

At this point prepare for crying, things being thrown at you, and possibly cursing. My kids are young and dramatic--they are girls.

Pay will be $500. The job will take roughly 2 hours at best. This job is ideal for an actor looking to diversify their role base, or someone who genuinely likes to make children cry.

Acting experience is a plus, but not necessary. Please inform me of any prior experience in this kind of situation.

JL: Wow. This is taking the whole rush-out-and-buy-a-look-alike-goldfish-to-replace-your-kids-dead-goldfish-before-they-get-home-from-school concept to a whole new level of parental deviance. And $500?! Why doesn't he just tell his girls Skittles is going to live with somebody else then give them each a hundred bucks and drive them to the mall or Toys r us? Cash works amazingly well for pet grief, I've found. But then again, we average about a dead pet a week around here, so my daughter is basically immune. Although she was strangely disturbed by Jessica Simpson's dog being snatched by a coyote.

SJ: This man is hysterical, but also genuinely offends me. Grow a pair, buddy. Parenting isn't always being 'the good guy'. Sometimes you've got to get real. You're a single dad, you're exhausted. You obviously didn't plan to be a single dad, but it happened and now you have to deal with it. Shouldn't your kids learn the same lesson, that sometimes life isn't perfect and you have to deal? (Stacey, who is just wicked jealous that she couldn't afford to pay an actor to tell her son that the actor lost his toy accordion and that mama didn't throw it in the trash because the sound of his playing made her want to pour battery acid in her ears.)

Looking for a MAN with very expensive sports car.

Date: 2009-07-07, 12:15PM EDT

I'm looking for a man with a very expensive sports car, a classic muscle car, or a new muscle car. All you have to do is sit in your car in the street in front of my house for one (1) hour, or less, talking to me. This will take place on a Tuesday morning, only. The time will be between approximately 8:25 a.m. and 9:25 a.m.

I want a guy I like to see me. He is NOT my husband or ex-husband. He is NOT my boyfriend or ex-boyfriend. He is just a guy that I know.

You must be a non-smoker.

I will be standing in the street.

Please enclose a photograph of your vehicle.

Compensation: $50.00

JL: I like that she wants to see a photo of the vehicle, but not one of the guy who will be driving it. Like, what if she's 25 and some 90 year old dude with white hair drives up in a Corvette? That's not going to make this guy jealous if that's what she's going for. He'll just think she's talking to her grandpa who happens to drive a cool car. I get what she's going for here, but I think her plan needs more refinement.

SJ: So she'll be standing IN the street. Literally...IN the street. Isn't that dangerous? Oh well, at least she's a non-smoker and cares about other people not smoking. That's good...I guess. But I kind of want to slap her around a little for caring so much about cars. Or a man who cares that much about cars. Cars are dumb. Just get one that will go. And won't break down. Done and done. Save money for more interesting things like quality cuts of meat. I love good meat. Like a really excellent ribeye steak. Yum.

My ad would totally read: Wanted, MAN with yummy 12 oz ribeye. You must stand outside my house holding the ribeye. I will be in the street. We will talk and marinate the ribeye together. Compensation: I will grill your ribeye and maybe let you eat some of it. The end.

Thanks for tuning in to this installment of ZIT. We'll be back soon. For real. Soon.

Julie and Stacey

Awesome Book Alert!!

Although here at ZIT we exude coolness through the non-existent pores of our flawless skin and know absolutely nothing about what it's like to be a geek, Brief pause as nose shoots out five inches from face and lightning bolt strikes back of chair, we enjoy reading books about how the other, less fortunate half lives. Paticularly when the book is smart, funny and has an adorable cover with a cheerleader and pom poms on it (I'm a sucker for pom poms).

Stacey: Me too!

And when the awesome authors of such a book drop by ZIT to do a little q&a--well, that's just icing on the cake. Read on to see how Charity Tahmaseb and Darcy Vance, authors of the fabulous, Geek Girls Guide to Cheerleading, handle the tough questions and then go out and get a copy of GGGTC!

1. Is there a difference between a geek and a nerd? And if so, can nerds also succeed at cheerleading?

Darcy: Did you intend for me to go all etymological on you? Yes? Oh goody!The term geek may come from the Scottish word geck, meaning fool, and was coined as a term describing sideshow entertainers who performed ridiculous feats (like biting the heads off of live chickens). It is unclear who was the actual fool in the scenario though – the biter or the guy who paid cash money to see this happen.An alternate explanation of the term compares it to the word gauche, which is French for left and has come to mean awkward.Nerd, on the other hand, is a mystery word. No one can agree on where it came from. Some say Dr. Seuss just made it up for his book If I Ran the Zoo. Others say it owes its birth to the Northern Electric Research and Development Laboratories in Canada. N.E.R.D. Labs, get it? Still others say its true origins come from a group of Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute students who did a compare and contrast on student activities on their campus in the 1960s. Their research showed two primary preferences: Frat Boy Types, otherwise known as drunk(s), and their opposite, the ones who actually attended class and did their homework, henceforth classified as knurd(s). Haha, see? It’s drunk spelled backward.In conclusion, geeks are generally left-handed people who prefer fresh poultry and nerds soberly research fictional zoo animals (but leave their heads intact). I hope this clears up any confusion.

Now, for part two of your question, can nerds succeed at cheerleading? Yes.

Charity: You know, sometimes Darcy just leaves you speechless. This would be one of those times.

2. Maxi dress or mini?

Darcy: Have you seen my thighs? Maxi all the way.

Charity: I’m going with the mini because 1) no one can see your combat boots if you’re wearing a maxi dress, and 2) it’s really hard to do much of anything except float around and look ethereal in a maxi dress.

3. Now that you have written a Geek Girls Guide to Cheerleading, don't you think it's only fair that you should write a Cheerleaders Guide to Geekiness?

Darcy: I believe Charity’s working on that right now, or something similar.

Charity: I am working on something called Dating on the Dork Side. However, as a book--and social experiment--it’s still a work in progress.

4. "High School was the best 4 years of my life. I would go back and do it again in a heartbeat." Please pick the letter that best describes your feelings about this statement.

a) Agree

b) Disagree

c) are you smoking crack?

Darcy: C. Definitely. I had a lot of fun in high school but I would never (I repeat, NEVER) want to go through it again.

Charity: What Darcy said.

5. Zombie vs. Geek girl--who is victorious?

Darcy: Geek girl. For sure. Zombies are a formidable foe and one has to admire their relentless pursuit of brains -- but they tend to lack the critical math skills necessary to determine the slope of a staircase. Without this knowledge they are incapable of climbing to higher ground, allowing geek girls to easily outmaneuver the zombie-folk and rain down geek fury upon them.

Charity: Definitely geek girl. She’s bound to have friends well-entrenched in zombie lore and would therefore be able to devise both a tactical and strategic plan for survival. And it’s well known that zombies have zero knowledge of geek lore. According to Sun Tzu’s The Art of War, this is a win for the geek girls.

6. How do Geek girls feel about tiaras?

D: Along with Aqua-Net and Duck tape, geek girls consider tiaras essential in the fight against zombies. Plus, they sparkle.

C: Tiaras are also sharp; they make good weapons.

7. Name your favorite geek celebrity.

Darcy: That cute kid from Juno, Superbad and Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist – Michael Cera. He’s funny and smart, and did I mention cute? He reminds me of all the best things about the boys I knew in high school.

Charity: I second the vote for Michael Cera. If you want old school geeky, I nominate Jeff Goldblum. Also, I feel compelled to report that the Geeky Dreamboats fan page on FaceBook has only 201 fans. This is a travesty. Log on and start clicking that Become a Fan button!

8. What's next for you guys?

Darcy: World domination, or a cookout – whichever comes first.

Charity: All of the above, but while wearing a tiara, because they’re sparkly--and sharp.

Thanks so much for stopping by ladies! You were fantastic!

Julie and Stacey