If you're mad at something, make it cute and furry

Okay, so I'm just looking for new material for my next "momedy" show. I was hoping to compare being a human parent vs. being an animal parent. Who has it worse, really? I mean, no way is there a divorce rate for spiders right? They devour their husbands. Then, I stumbled on this blog: www.fuckyoupenguin.blogspot.com. First of all, who gets pissed at a penguin? Today, the blogger is taking aim at a baby panda. Hope this dude doesn't work at a zoo.

When wealth is pouring, forget your umbrella.

Oh wait, that's rain. Still waiting for this affirmation to happen. The fact that it's spring break should mean sun and bikinis, right? But no, it's rain. Visualize each freezing drop as cold, hard cash. Yeah, that'll work.

Keep your moon in the right house before it offends someone

Suddenly, my four-year-old is mooning everybody. "Look at my butt!" she squeals while exposing her little bottom to nearly anyone. "That is your private area," we tell her. "You can do that at home, not in public." Well, we shouldn't have said that. Many moons later, we're all pretty tired of seeing her little buns. "Can I show you my underwear then?" Great. Now the moon is peeking at us behind Curious George and Tinkerbell. I should be happy she wears underwear at all. When she was potty training, she refused. One day, my printer jammed. When I opened it, I discovered six pairs of Dora the Explorer underpanties stuffed into the paper tray. She showed me, alright. With her newfound exhibitionist tendencies, she's really showing me. Of course, just when I need it most, the real moon is covered up by clouds.

Embrace the true you, even if it's weird to hug yourself in public.

My identity has been stolen so many times, I lost count. I could be like poster child for ID theft at this point. Why is my identity so attractive to people? I have about $5.78 in my checking account. All these years of battling questionable identity, and my husband finally spelled it out for me: "You're the love child of Erma Bombeck and Jack Handey." Thank you! Finally, my identity nailed down flat. Try cashing that in at the bank, future felons!

Forgive me, Followers, for I have sinned...

It's been weeks since my last blog. Sorry about that, but I've been busy. TIME OUT: THE MAMALOGUES show is tonight! I practiced and practiced and just couldn't get the jokes where I wanted them. I just downed two eggs Rocky-style, and I'm ready. No I didn't - they were hardboiled. I'm not a TOTAL nut. Yes I am. Clearly, I need help with direction today. Bare with me. I mean, bear with me. Well, what did you expect is on my mind. The show is "Honey, I Shrunk My Libido." Tonight. Airplay Cafe. 701 E. Burnside. 7 o'clock. Hope to see you there. If not, at the blog next time.

Love yourself, but lock the door for crying out loud

It's that Valentine's time of the year. Big, floppy, doily Valentine's. So who loves you? You do. Right? RIGHT? You have to say yes or nobody else will. That's what I heard anyway. If you don't believe me about locking the door, rent "Fast Times at Ridgemont High." It's probably available in VHS. 

Keep your house clean and your mouth dirty

Quick, what's the fastest way to hiring a housecleaner? Tell your man it's his turn to clean. I've cleaned the ----ing house about twenty times in a row. It's time for everyone else in the family to get busy. After ten minutes and a wrestling match with our ----ing 1950 Electrolux, Brian was livid. Feel my pain, Mister! I told him I'd pole dance to make the extra money to hire our awesome Brazilian dancer/housecleaner. No, really. He's a Brazilian dancer, and I LOVE HIM.

See, here's the deal. When I was a teenager, I cleaned houses for extra money. Lots of houses. Rich people's houses. Lazy people's houses. Dog houses. Now I'm done, people. I've got two businesses to run, two little kids and dinner to make. So does everyone else in America. Why should I be the only one who keeps the house clean? "House Cleaning" is officially getting filed under "Utilities." Now all I want to worry about is keeping my dirty --s mouth clean around the kids. When I'm with my people, I'll cuss all I ----ing want.

Create your highest future. But first, get a ladder.

Ever have those dreams when you're precariously on the edge of a building? Your choice is fall or trust that the creepy circus clown standing at the building will pull you to safety. Okay, just me then. Plenty of people are afraid of heights though. So if Obama says it's up to us to build a bigger, better future, better go to Sears for a ladder.

Let your emotions flow, then beer

It's Friday. Finally, after surviving the first official full week around here. So I say dump out your worker angst and refill your glass with a cold one. Have a swell weekend.

Receive a soul message, then dump out your inbox

Not that you're supposed to ignore messages from the universe; but darn it, they take up memory. Already this year I got a big one: Do stand-up comedy. That's a totally strange message, considering that I once earned 95 cents after an entire year of performing. But I do thrive on making people laugh.

So I'm working with Airplay Cafe (701 E. Burnside, Portland) on TIME OUT: THE MAMALOGUES, a show just for moms. So far, we've reeled in some awesome talent: 

- Sharon Lacey (A-list comic/www.sharonlaceycomedy.com)

- Betsy Kauffman (comic and former KEX radio personality)

- Sharon Wood Wortman (author of The Portland Bridge Book and one-woman show "Bridge Stories")

- Tara Dublin (self-proclaimed "Durannie" and morning show host at WNRK 94.7)

Still hoping Gert Boyle, "One Tough Mother," will join us. Tickets are available via www.brownpapertickets.com. If you're a mom, email jsturkie@gmail.com to take the stage. If you're a dad, attend at your own risk.

Create wealth, but beware of jail time.

Seems like this time of year, everyone wonders, How can I make more money? Ironically, you never hear people answer, Uh, work. Last year, I went with the philosophies proposed in The Secret. That is, envision yourself as the person you want to be. You know, the one with a nice paycheck. I started living the dream. For me, that meant replacing leotards with the snap-tabbed crotch I bought in the '80s with cotton shirts from Old Navy. My standards aren't exactly fashion-forward. The results really surprised me. Instead of "attracting wealth," I ran up $7,000 on my credit card. To my defense, most of the expenses were business-related. But still, my guilt accrued daily. So I paid the thing off and cut it up. The other day, the "Law of Attraction" sent me a new credit card. I hid it from myself and vowed to become Quaker. Apparently, the Quakers don't believe in debt. As far as I know, they do use electricity, so I'll go with that for this year.