I thought it would be cool to have a post dated February 29th, but not cool enough to devote any time to it. So it is in this spirit that I present a few things that popped into my head last night:

Am I a bad mom because I don’t inspect my kids’ posteriors for toilet paper residue? I mean, that mama bear on those Charmin commercials really makes a big deal out of it. My mom never checked my butt and, quite frankly, I’m thankful. But perhaps this indicates some sort of cycle of neglect that, as an enlightened parent, I should rectify. The fact that ‘rectify’ sounds a lot like ‘rectum’ only adds to my puzzlement.

Those Cinnamon Toast Crunch commercials with the pieces of cereal eating each other is just plain creepy. It’s cannibalism for God’s sake.

I feel sorry for pails. Unless you’re building a sandcastle, you never ask for a pail. You always go for a bucket. It always rains in buckets. If you’re loaded, you’ve got buckets of money. When you die, you don't kick the pail. Alas, to always be considered the wimpy, effeminate cousin of the bucket. Poor pails.

I wonder who came up with the idea of fork-splitting English muffins. The whole concept seems unusual to me. Also, the concept of forking a muffin sounds more than a little dirty to me.

Anyway, my ten minutes is up. To make this post somewhat leap year-y, I will end with a freaky photo of a frog cake. The alliteration is just a bonus. Your welcome.

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Late addition:

I just found out one of my very first celebrity crushes died today. Click here to read a post I wrote a little while back featuring him.

I'll miss you, Davy. You always made me smile.