Just wanted to take this time to recognize a Buzzer who makes a big difference around here. You know who I'm talking about; she's a social butterfly, shutterbug, AND a bird?! She's got wings, sure, but she might as well have a cape, because Birdie is a Superhero in the Buzzworld. What would we do without her?

Seriously, Birdie, I appreciate you very much. Your presence here infuses the Buzz with such optimism, warmth, energy, and humor that it makes me want to hang out here all day, just to be sure not to miss anything.

Thanks for all you do for The Buzz.

Love,
Me (and Everybody Else)

Mrs. Jones was very upset; she had a AA cup and was very self-conscious. None of her clothes looked right, and she couldn't find a bra that flattered her. Surgery was out of the question, so when she heard someone talking about a seemingly magical cure from a "Dr. Poe," she knew she had to see him.

"Dr. Poe!" she cried, in his office a week later. "You really must help me!"

"I can help," he assured her, "but it will involve serious dedication."

"Oh, I'm serious. And dedicated," she insisted.

"Okay. The cure involves this exercise and mantra." He stopped and raised an eyebrow. "You're sure you can dedicate yourself to this?"

"Oh yes!"

"You must do it every day, every hour, on the hour in order to get results."

"Oh, Yes! I promise!"

Satisfied, the doctor raised his arms to shoulder height, bent his elbows tightly, and began pumping his arms back and forth, reciting...

"Mary had a little lamb
It's fleece was white as snow.
If I do my exercise,
my breasts are sure to grow."

"Now," He warned her. "It's important that you do both the exercise and the recitation every day, every hour, on the hour, without fail."

"I'll start right now!" Mary said, and started pumping away, reciting her mantra:

"Mary had a little lamb
It's fleece what white as snow.
If I do my exercise,
my breasts are sure to grow."

The doctor sent her on her way. For the next several days, Mrs. Jones faithfully performed her exercises and recited the lines every hour, on the hour. One day, however, she found that she had spent too much time in the grocery store and was running out of time. Tapping her watch in the checkout line, Mrs. Jones willed the little old lady ahead of her to hurry up.

When the old woman pulled out about 42 coupons, Mrs. Jones dropped everything and ran back to the vegetable aisle. She hid behind a potato stand and began pumping away, glancing furtively to her left and right, whispering,

"Mary had a little lamb
It's fleece what white as snow.
If I do my exercise,
my breasts are sure to grow!"

Suddenly, she felt a tap on her shoulder. It was Mr. Smith, the Store Manager.

"I see you're a patient of Dr. Poe's," he said.

Puzzled, Mrs. Jones asked, "How did you know?!"

He stood on one leg and began wildly pumping his other knee up and down, reciting,

"Hickory Dickory Dock...."

It seems that a little boy came upon a pirate at the seashore. The pirate had a real peg-leg, a hook for a hand, and a black patch over one eye. Curious, the boy asked how the pirate had lost his leg. [Read pirate lines in a pirate accent for full effect!]

"Arrgggh. I was washed overboard one night, and a shark bit it right off! The ship's carpenter was able to make me a new leg."

"What happened to your hand?" the boy pressed.

"I was shimmying up the mainsail when a gust of wind rushed in and I got me hand wrapped up in the ropes. When I fell, my hand ripped clean off! The ship's carpenter was able to make me a hook for a hand."

"And your eye?" the boy pried.

"I was up on deck when a seagull pooped in me eye!"

"That's dumb," said the boy, skeptically. "There's no way you could lose your eye from a bird pooping in it."

The pirate shrugged, "It was my first day with my new hook."

Dear Adult Male Seatmate on the Red-eye Flight from Las Vegas to Milwaukee,

You warned me about the snoring, but I wasn't prepared to wake up with your hand on my bare thigh (over and over again). Now, the mohawk and the soul patch didn't spook me, but the thigh thing? That was beyond my comfort zone. I know you were actually sleeping; I saw the gaping mouth, heard the snoring, and saw the goofy gestures you were making with your other hand, but I'd like to suggest that in the future, you bring a bungee cord to strap your arm to the correct side of the armrest. That way, I too can sleep, without waking up with you gently, lightly, but offensively rubbing my leg.

(You have no idea how bummed out I am that I did not take this man's photo for my blog. DARN IT! That would have been SO funny!!)