Sunday, December 28, 2008

Hope everyone had a great Christmas.

I remain far too traumatized to blog about the wedding but will share the fun soon.

In the mean time, stock up on the booze for New Years Eve or just because you need it to get through that shitty night that we all are supposed to have fun but in reality, it usually sucks.

We'll chat soon kids.

Tuesday, December 16, 2008

Sis Was Kind Enuff To Help

Me perform the ceremony explained in the blog entry below. One less thing for me to worry about.....

Dearly belittled, we are gathered here to witness this last minute, half assed, doing it for the money event in the presence of God, family and those of us forced to be here against our will.

So getting on it with it…. do you (insert name here) take this man to be your awfully wedded husband, to use, abuse and berate at every possible opportunity (wait for response).

Now, do you (insert name here) take this woman to be your awfully wedded wife to use, ignore and live off of for as long as you both shall live. (wait for response).

Now repeat after me….. I (insert name here) will stand Bayou through backwoods Cajun gumbo parties and dysfunctional family gatherings until I can’t take it anymore and go out for milk one day and never return.

I think I'll give my overalls a good washin' and fabreeze my flip flops for the sacred occasion.

Monday, December 15, 2008

I Fucking Don't!!!

It seems I will be marrying someone Christmas Day this year.

And I don't wanna.

Actually I will be marrying two people. Or rather, I will be performing a ceremony uniting two people, for better or worse, til death do they part and all that shit.

I think you all that know me are pretty damn sure that I am in no way any kind of minister. Unless there exists the church of the foul mouthed, pagan bitch in which case I would be happy to run the place and be in charge of all donations. No, in Florida, Notaries can perform marriage ceremonies.

I don't know if that is nationwide but it is far too late to move now anyway.

I have done this kind of thing once before and vowed to never do it again. I simply feel ill-equipped to be responsible for someone else’s eventual divorce.

But this happens to be a “desperate” situation and this relative so dear to my heart pulled the “but you're family” fucking card on me.


Long story short...person A is getting deployed to Iraq and has a one week leave, the week of Christmas, in order to pledge his life long devotion to Person B. (And get all the military benefits associated with such an arrangment). Florida has a three day waiting period after they obtain the marriage license. Which means if they obtain the license Monday and he is leaving Friday morning, they need to marry that Thursday which happens to be Christmas Day.

Apparently, the courthouse personnel stay home that day to spend time with their families. What a bunch of selfish pricks.

Believe it or not, the situation gets even more interesting. The entire family traditionally spends Christmas Day at my parent's home. This particular family had an invitation extended for five. They have yet to RSVP. However, while speaking to them, it seems they plan to come and bring some friends and in-laws adding at least an additional four to the original five invited to attend. They will all have Christmas Dinner and then proceed to a nice little park where I will perform the shortest ceremony in history and we will all go back to my parent’s house for dessert. Yes, my mother is holding a wedding reception in one week and has yet to be informed.

I can’t wait to see how this one plays out but no doubt it will be providing me with blogging material for weeks to come.

Monday, December 8, 2008

My Annual Christmas Update.

Dear Friends and Family,

It has been a typical year for us. I was widowed again this year from husband number four or five; I can’t quite remember only that none of the bastards left me any money after their untimely poisonings, I mean deaths.

I still owe more than the trailer is worth and after perusing the yellow pages for an arson professional, they all seemed too busy to take on any new business. I’ve decided to seek an ambitious teenager looking to make a few extra bucks for the holidays.

Bubba Jr is still in prison on that bullshit robbery charge. There are many people that choose to wear ski masks in July and that gun wasn’t even loaded! As usual, the system just like to pick on the underdogs who are just trying to help their family put food on the table.

My second eldest son is still dealing drugs and making a killing. It seems like the one thing the depressed economy doesn’t effect is the need for daily chemical vacations from reality. He has also expanded his business by putting a few whores out on the street. He is my little entrepreneur and I am so very proud. He has his bitches selling blow jobs and crack at the same time. The only problem is they tend to sample a bit too much of the merchandise but he is working hard on solving that problem. I have no doubt he will come up with a reasonable solution in no time at all.

My daughter is in the 7th grade already and has finally learned to count to ten. I am so very proud of her as well. Next month she will start on her ABCs. I was highly encouraged when she insisted she is only interested in renting R rated movies at the video store last week. One letter down, 21 to go.

The dog continues to shit all over the furniture. We’ve given up training him and found it much easier to simply just join him. We keep some toilet paper under the sofa and shove it under the cushions when used. You’d be surprised how fast you get used to the smell!

The lawsuit with our neighbors is still in progress. They claim the four bikes in their garage where stolen by our family. We are contending that since the garage door was not closed, the finders keepers rule applies in the situation. Being the good neighbors we are, we did invite them over for coffee to try to resolve the situation amicably but for some reason, they couldn’t tolerate the scent of my new perfume as they entered into the house. At least that is what I think it was.

The fire department was called earlier this year to get the baby off the roof yet again. I am so proud of that little monkey shimming up the drain pipe with his blankey and thumb in his mouth. He does so enjoy the ride down the ladder. I am all for cheap entertainment since my welfare checks barely covers my cigarettes and gin, let alone any kind of games or movies. Of course none of their dead beat fathers worked long enough to entitle their sprogs to any social security so I am forced to be mother of the year sacrificing my entire life for these joyous gifts from God.

Hope your family is doing just as well. Best Wishes for a Merry Christmas and remember, if you’d like to contribute to the legal fund to get Junior out of jail, I accept PayPal only. Peace and goodwill to all.

Tuesday, November 25, 2008

Two days until Thanksgiving with the fam.

Be still my excited little heart.

There is nothing I enjoy more than spending the better part of the day not smacking the fucking piss out of someone that happens to have the same genes or was stupid enough to marry into a family that possesses said dysfunctional genes.

Smile, smile...yes, these pototoes are the best ever. (Especially the black lumps throughout) nod we haven't heard that story...(at least in the last 365 days). Chuckle chuckle....what a good one. (you don't really tell that shit to people that actually don't feel obligated to laugh, do you?)

Fuck...I am in no mood. Do doctor's write notes to get out of family obligations?

What if I offer a significant bribe? Guess I can't compete with the bribes the drug companies shell out so I guess I am stuck.


Friday, November 21, 2008

I know that this is going to come as a shocker to you kids, but it appears I am a bit on the high strung side.

Additionally, I may even have a tad more stress in my life than is good for me.

But I am getting ahead of myself.

It all started when SCM punched me in the face.

Well, that was the rumor reality he did no such thing. It seems when a person walks around with several blood vessels that have burst in said person's eye, people automatically assume domestic violence.

To make matters worse, since this had happened before, I was just steps away from a woman's shelter.

In reality, I had no idea why tiny little capillaries were exploding in my baby blues and since it wasn't painful, I did what I always do when something doesn't need to go on my list of crisis for the day. I ignored it.

I would have continued to ignore it if I hadn't started with a terrible headache that didn't go away for several days. I may have even ignored that if the headache didn't come with bed spins worse than when I was doing jello shots off of that hot male strippers thigh during my bachelorette party in 1985.

I probably would have even ignored that too if someone hadn't finally fessed up about the office suspicion that my eye was caused by an ass kicking.

After convincing people that I really was being truthful and if any beatings were to take place, I certainly wouldn't be on the receiving end, a coworker asked: "Are you sure you don't have high blood pressure?"

Naaa, I thought. Not only am I too young for that shit, there is no such family history of that particular ailment.

We have just about every other malady in our dried up and root rotted family tree but none of that.

Since I needed to stock up on pantyhose and strawberry flavored massage oil anyway, I decided to take advantage of that annoying pressure cuff at the drug store.

After squeezing my arm so fucking tight I thought my skin was going to burst open leaving all my muscles and tendons exposed, two numbers flashed on the screen. I compared the numbers to their little chart for reference.

According to the list, I was on head exploding countdown.

I shook my head thinking that can't be right and checked it again....


To get to the point, I saw a doctor who put me on some medication and told me to chill the fuck out if I don't want that little blood vessels to start bursting in my brain causing me to spend my life eating my meals through a straw and drooling all over myself.

And give up the cigarettes, Hagan Daz and recreational drugs.

OH fuck that....

I am working on figuring out how to eliminate the aggravation in my life.

Basically my new philosophy is that if you are the least bit annoying... fuck off.

Words to live by.

Monday, November 17, 2008

I don't know how people manage to blog each day. It just seems to take me away from more important things.

Such as Monk reruns and Vanilla Swiss Almond Haagan Daz.

I do, however, have a goal.....

I am on a mission to be immortalized in the Genus Book of World Records for widest ass.

So far so good.

Seriously, I wish I could get some direction. Currently I have five short stories, three novels and nine outlines in the works. If I wrote to put food on the table, I would have no chance at that damn record.

There just doesn't seem to be enough hours in the day. By the time I get the kid up and to school, work ten hours, fling some food in the fams direction, the most creative thing I can produce is a steam sketch on the shower door.

Which reminds me...I need to leave a note for the cleaning lady not to Windex away my one and only artistic moment this week.

I really need to figure out what I want to be when I grow up. Lucky for me, I have plenty of time.

I am attending a wedding this weekend of a couple that have no business hanging out together let alone committing to one another for life. The groom is close personal friend that I have know for 15 years. I really would like to smack the shit out of him but I suppose people need to make their own mistakes.

Even if that mistake involves a manipulative bitch that is only marrying him for his money.

He has managed to put her off and avoid the marriage for a while now. The irresponsible jerk impregnated her three years ago. Apparently the pill she was taking religiously failed.

cough cough

Of course I blame him just as much. When you have a couple of mil in the bank you bag that sucker when sticking it in someone you're barely dating. Inserting his dick into her was like him inserting a dollar into a slot and she hitting the jackpot.

Ding Ding Ding. You have won five thousand dollars in month in child support for the next 18 years.

Maybe he just figures marrying her will be cheaper.

cough cough

She already commandeered his Maserati that he bought for himself this past year. I guess the baby is safer in that than the Lexus SUV he bought her two years ago. Gotta think about the little one....

So I'll get all buttoned up and beautiful. Give the little slut a hug and a congratulations through clenched teeth and enjoy the seventy five thousand dollar reception that she just had to have.

I mean in her case, you only get married three times. Why elope to Vegas when you can be as ostentatious as possible?

If nothing else, I am certain I have weeks of entertaining gossip ahead of me.

Thursday, November 13, 2008

Last One. Promise.

I'll post something creative here or on "Hate" tomorrow.

So if I am understanding this correctly, I have an urge to kick someone's ass. That sounds about right.

You are The Tower

Ambition, fighting, war, courage. Destruction, danger, fall, ruin.

The Tower represents war, destruction, but also spiritual renewal. Plans are disrupted. Your views and ideas will change as a result.

The Tower is a card about war, a war between the structures of lies and the lightning flash of truth. The Tower stands for "false concepts and institutions that we take for real." You have been shaken up; blinded by a shocking revelation. It sometimes takes that to see a truth that one refuses to see. Or to bring down beliefs that are so well constructed. What's most important to remember is that the tearing down of this structure, however painful, makes room for something new to be built.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.

Wednesday, November 12, 2008

Another Boring Day

Another boring test.

I think you have to highlight the text to read it which is far too much trouble for this bullshit but what the fuck...Do it if you are as bored as I am and let me know how much of an asshole YOU are.

I am 49% Asshole/Bitch.
Part Time Asshole/Bitch.
I may think I am an asshole or a bitch, but the truth is I am a good person at heart. Yeah sure, I can have a mean streak in me, but most of the people I meet like me.

Monday, November 10, 2008

Thank God summer in Florida is finally over. If I had to look at my thunder thighs in shorts for one more week, I would have be forced to do something really drastic.

Like go back to the gym.


Florida weather is odd. Last night we were down in the mid 50s which for us is coat weather.

Yes, we are a bunch of wienies. But when you get acclimated to 95 degrees six months out of the year, 50 seems a tad nippy.

It felt really good to open the windows up wide, put on sweats and big thick socks and breath air that wasn't recirculated from an AC unit. I even caught the comforting scent of someone burning wood in a fireplace.

I despise Florida from April until October. Each summer I agonize why I live in this hell hole of a state.

But then autumn comes and although I miss the changing foliage and the crunching of leaves under foot, I remember why this happens to be a very nice place to live.

Friday, November 7, 2008

Sunday, November 2, 2008


Don't forget to vote Tuesday. And if it isn't too much trouble, vote CORRECTLY for my man Obama.

If you're in Florida, vote NO on Amendment 2 and keep the religious wing nuts out of people's civil rights.

That is all.

Thursday, October 30, 2008

This Test Is Mistaken. The Key To My Heart Is Sit Down, Shut Up and Do As You're Told.

The Keys to Your Heart

You are attracted to obedience and warmth.

In love, you feel the most alive when things are straight-forward, and you're told that you're loved.

You'd like to your lover to think you are optimistic and happy.

You would be forced to break up with someone who was ruthless, cold-blooded, and sarcastic.

Your ideal relationship is lasting. You want a relationship that looks to the future... one you can grow with.

Your risk of cheating is zero. You care about society and morality. You would never break a commitment.

You think of marriage something you've always wanted... though you haven't really thought about it.

In this moment, you think of love as commitment. Love only works when both people are totally devoted.

Thursday, October 23, 2008

I work with a person that I am having a bit of trouble getting along with….

As a matter of fact, I would like to stab him in the neck and watch his lifeblood pump out and seep all over the carpet until he shutters, shits his pants and falls down dead.

Usually I save this emotion for ex boyfriends and ex husbands so this guy must be really fucking irritating.

Let’s just call him Dickhead to protect his identity and honor.

Now Dickhead has been with my company for over five years. In all the time, I’ve never liked him but he does his job, brings money into the business and for that, I can ignore just about anything.

Just about.

I don’t know if lately I am crankier than usual or Dickhead is more annoying than usual but every time he appears at my office door, I die a little inside.

He is the type of person that knows everything. I mean EVERYTHING. If there is a situation that he overhears that has nothing to do with him, he’ll be scampering as fast as his size 11 Pathmark Pick A Pair specials will carry him to offer his personal suggestion of how the issue should be handled.

Which is bad enough.

But without being asked, he’ll get others involved. Before I know it I have this guy’s wife (who apparently also knows everything) on the line with a list of people to contact to solve my “problem”.

The one that has nothing to do with him, her or the fucktards she is trying to get me to contact.

Dickhead is also the type of person that makes sure he shows up at every casual after work get together while buttering up to the CEO and the CEOs baby mama. He actually advised me recently to start kissing baby mama’s ass too because they are planning on marrying.

He actually said “butter up” as if his ass kissing tactics were normal and he is ever so proud of his skills.

Recently we had words regarding a sarcastic comment he made about one of my gay employees. Instead of discussing it rationally, Dickhead left a note on my chair stating that he wants to request a meeting with me and the CEO.

So he can tell on me.

I denied his request.

He can whine alone, I don’t have the time or patience for his shit.

Since I probably shouldn’t stab him to death, I have finally decided that I must clip the wings of this precious little butterfly.

For his own health and safety.

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

Hit The Road Jack...

My little boy no longer lives with me.

Thank the good Lord above.

For all you Mommas that lament over your first child spreading his/her wings and going out on his/her own I have one question for you? What the FUCK is wrong with you?

My only complaint is that it took too long and he visits too often.

His place doesn't have HBO, Wireless Internet or a cleaning lady. Apparently, he is having a hard time roughing it. He told me he had to start doing something completely unimaginable lately.

He is forced to hang up his towels to reuse them.

GASP! Say it isn't so!!

I thought I would save money in food now that the kid was gone but the oddest thing is happening; every time he visits some of my food seems to disappear into the hot/cold bags he happens to have with him.

The kid is looking really good. Because he can't afford junk food or late night entertainment, (not to mention the occasional bag of weed) he is eating better and getting sleep. His body is slim, his complexion looks smooth and his eyes are actually clear and alert.

Poverty works for him.

Glad I could help out.

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

I Am A Liberal

Apparently, I am a liberal.

I believe each American Citizen has a right to free health care.

(And liposuction and a boob job as needed)

I believe my social security should be in the hands of government and not the stock market.

(Thank goodness we didn’t get roped into privatizing social security or granny would be living with me. That women smells like a mixture of moth balls and depends)

I believe my teenage daughter should be permitted to make her own decisions regarding her reproductive choices .

(I think Suzie being on the pill because she is messing around with that dumb Jock from 4th period is a good thing. But I don’t need or particularly want to know)

I believe in a woman’s right to choose.

(Especially deciding if she is up to dealing with an annoying little crotch dropping for the next 18 years.)

I believe people should be respectful and tolerant of differences and every individual should have the same rights as any other despite their race, color, religion or sexual preferences.

(If you care who your neighbors are fucking or how, you probably should think of getting a little of the ole in and out yourself.)

I believe government has the responsibility to help those that are less fortunate.

(Yes, even that nasty homeless bastard who scrapped his shopping cart against your BMW)

I believe that the government can protect the people without taking away their civil liberties and I believe that liberties should not be sacrificed disguised as protection.

(No, you can not detain me just because I have come from a place where some of the bad guys live. Get the fuck out of my house. Well, unless you brought cake in which case I was just about to put up coffee.)

I think if you censure reading material in any form, you sacrifice free thinking.

(Not only am I allowing, I am encouraging my young daughter to read The Chocolate Wars and I Know Why The Caged Birds Sing and you all should do the same.)

I believe an 18th century light house is more valuable than turning the acres of land it sits on into high priced condominiums. I also believe the government and my taxes should pay to keep our country's history alive.

(Yes, even the bad shit that might be a little embarrassing to future generations. Like the fact we banned books and bulldozed our past to build more Walmarts.)

I believe that it is our obligation to take all steps to ensure we protect every living creature on this earth.

(Except red ants…nasty little bastards)

I believe that Bill Gates should pay a bigger percentage of his income in taxes than I do.

(When he has to drive around to find gas five cents cheaper a gallon, I’ll listen to his problems.)

I do not believe the ten commendments have any business being in any public building.

(Unless the top ten spells of witchcraft are permitted to hang right beside it.)

I believe that art and music are just as important to teach as math and science.

(Especially since I was really shitty at math and science)

Am I a bleeding heart liberal? Fuck, yeah and damn proud of it.

Saturday, October 11, 2008

Christ on a cracker I am back to being a groupie.

How the hell did this happen?

SCM came back, he was not involved in a band and he was going to spend all his free time catering to my every need and whim. That was working for me.

Just when I was getting accustomed to being treated like the princess I so clearly am, he informed me of his great opportunity fill in as lead singer with a band next weekend.

As I offered the expected congratulations, best wishes and go break a legs, I see there has appeared a crestfallen look upon his face.


"Aren't you going to come and watch?"

"Not, feelin' it, no."

Obviously that was the incorrect answer because holy dickhead batman, did I get some guilt filled shit.

So after hearing how I should support him and how he was counting on me being there and how important it was to him.

I finally agreed.

Just to get him to shut the fuck up.

So now I need to pull out the tight jeans, high heels and my black fedora and go hang out in a smoky bar with drunkin 25 year olds sloshing and hanging all over everyone.

Oh joy.

I was hoping he would have outgrown the shit.....apparently not.

Thursday, October 9, 2008

Sorry I haven't been keeping in touch. I have been pretty busy in an attempt to keep my brain from exploding with my office struggles while campaigning for the Obama Biden ticket as often as possible. Which unfortunately isn't as often as I would like.

Florida is a swing state and I think (hope) democrats have learned a lesson assuming votes don't count. Registration ended in the state this past Monday and I am proud to say I got every single person that works for me to register. Obviously it is inappropriate for me to campaign at work but I think my Obama/Biden tote bags, bumper stickers and screen saver is a dead give away who I am supporting. I just think it is important that people use their voice in government no matter which candidate they support. It does matter. Anyone in Florida that witness the hanging chad debacle should be convinced of that.

There are also several amendments on the Sunshine state ballot that are very important. I have spoken of Amendment Two and the fucktards that want to get the wording in the state constitution that marriage is between a man and a woman. If you want my opinion on that, you need to click the link because I simply don't have the strength to rag on ignorant fools today.

Well, maybe I do a little but I have another issue more pressing. A fucking forward that I received not once but twice yesterday.

It went like this:

Dear Friends,

As I was listening to a news program last night, I watched in horror as Barack Obama made the statement with pride. . .'we are no longer a Christian nation; we are now a nation of Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, . .' As with so many other statements I've heard him (and his wife) make, I never thought I'd see the day that I'd hear something like that from a presidential candidate in this nation. To think our forefathers fought and died for the right for our nation to be a Christian nation--and to have this man say with pride that we are no longer that. How far this nation has come from what our founding fathers intended it to be.

I hope that each of you will do what I'm doing now--send your concerns, written simply and sincerely, to the Christians on your email list. With God's help, and He is still in control of this nation and all else, we can show this man and the world in November that we are, indeed, still a Christian nation!

Please pray for our nation!

God Bless

I am ashamed that I have such stupid acquaintances.

For a brief moment I considered responding and pointing out their ignorance but what would be the point? If they forward this shit, they believe this shit and I am much better off moving them to the people I will avoid at all cost and delete mail from list.

Did Obama say this? Kinda. What he said was that we are not JUST a nation of Christians.


But, wait...were we ever a Christian nation and I missed the memo? Silly me thought when our nation was founded the forefathers specifically put the big no fucking way on paper about an established religion.

Oh yeah, here it is: Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof...

As a matter of fact, they weren't all Christians.

I for one would never vote for a president that thought Christianity should take precedence over any other religious belief. Kinda shits all over the "all men are created equal" thing..doesn't it?

Wednesday, October 1, 2008

Well, I did get around blogging last Friday by totally posting a disgusting creepy link about bugs to make you forget that I didn't have a G.D. creative thing to offer you kids.

I have been informed via email that certain people were on to me and I will not be permitted to get away with that shit in the future.


I am trying to run a company and close out a quarter and I need to pull myself away from my calculator, reading glasses and spread sheets in order to “share”.

Okeedooee. Let’s all gather round, hold hands and sing Kumbaya.

Orrrrrr we could talk about Stinky Cheese Man. That would be much more fun.

Those of you that have hung at the kewl kids table for a while are well aware of SCMs occasional hygiene problem due to what I can only guess is his unmanageable, irrational fear that a scary monster is going to come through the drain and nibble on his exposed private parts.

The irony is that if he stood under that cascade of water more often, I'd be nibbling on his exposed private parts!

Perhaps I am being extreme and unreasonable. I was thinking this could be the case the other day when he growled:

“You are being extreme and unreasonable!!”

He also said something about me being a nag, a shrew and something that I didn’t quite catch that sounded a lot like mucking punt… blah blah. Who listens?

I feel I am perfectly reasonable to expect the people that share my home have the same hang-ups and obsessive tendencies as I do.

For goodness sakes, I bathe my dogs three times a week and keep baby wipes on the counters to wipe their feet after walks and faces after meals.

So why can’t SCM get it through his head that even if he showered that morning…he has been smoking, drinking, farting and sweating for the entire day and I really don’t want that body crawling between my clean, white, crisp, cotton sheets! Especially when I happen to be under them already in my freshly washed jammies and freshly scrubbed body.

The man does manual labor while chain smoking Marlboro Lights down to the filters and he can’t understand why he is a bit on the ripe side by the time he gets home?

Okay, so maybe I am a bit demanding and maybe he is getting sick of having to sleep in his chair in the den because he is too tired after working 12 hours to shower.

(Whiny bitch!)

I just wish the dude would figure out that it is permissible to shower at night even if you won't be getting any poonany.

If not, I'd better put a chiropractor and hooker on speed dial. He is going to be desperately needing both.

Friday, September 26, 2008

Misery Loves Company

Since it is Friday and we have our first autumn weekend coming up of long walks and enjoying nature with all its beauty and splendor, I think a warning is in order.

I give you mother nature. Wow, does that bitch have an evil streak or what?!

I will be duct taping myself in my house with a sledge hammer and several cans of raid this weekend. Hope you enjoy whatever it is you plan on doing.

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

If I have to listen to one more friend over analyze why the guy she flirted with Saturday night didn't call, I am going to burn my fucking ears off.

I thought at 40, I would be over this shit but no. Seems so many of us are out there looking for permanent relationship number two that we have reverted back to asking if we think Joey from 4th period pulled our pigtails because he likes us.

I am beginning to think many women can talk themselves into anything. To me, if you meet a gentleman, you have a nice time, he asks for your number, you give it and he doesn't call,it means he simply didn't want to get together.

Simple right???

Apparently I am wrong and needed to be corrected. Mr Right didn't call because of one of the following reasons....

He is too scared of being hurt in another relationship.

He is insecure and doesn't want to make the first move.

He really wants to call but he is intimidated by strong powerful women in general.

He's been burned before and wants to take it very slow.

oh and the dreaded..

He must have lost my phone number.

The worst part of this is sitting around while women commiserate with one another and agree that one or all of these is probably the reason for the rejection.

I've been out in the dating world and one thing I know for sure....if a guy is into you, you'll know it and won't have to make excuses for him.

If you're waiting by the phone for days, it is time to toss out that rancid pork chop and find yourself a new one.

We can say "his loss" but why the fuck can't we BELIEVE it?

Thursday, September 18, 2008

Bad Blogger! Bad Bad Bad Blogger!

I think I have pulled down my business hat so tightly over my ears that I have no time to lament about how much life sucks.

I guess that could actually be a good thing. Although I suspect it will all come crashing down any minute now and drowned me in internal fears, insecurities and my own bowel waste.

After giving my old assistant the boot, I've been scrambling to make up for the shit she was supposed to be doing and was not, as well as correcting the shit she was working on but fucking up. If nothing else, each day I feel less bad about firing her useless ass. As a matter of fact, firing was much too good for her. I should have publically humiliated her by tying her inefficient ass to the conference table and have her coworkers lob rotten bananas and horse manure at her.

At least all is dyfunctionally normal on the home front.

In the past three day, SCM has bashed his head against inanimate objects exactly twice. He is walking around with two huge bruises on his noggin and a dazed and confused look on his face. Even more than usual.

Does the fact that this cracks me up make me a bad person? In my defense, I did check on him in the middle of the night after the first injury to make sure he wasn’t dead of a brain hemorrhage. Oh, and I was barely even disappointed when I acknowledged the fact that he was still breathing.

Number one son is getting the fuck out of my house a couple of weeks to make his way in the world. Of course he made sure he was still able to come for meals and to drop off his laundry. Being independent is one thing but there is no reason to be extreme!

He was a bit insulted when I started taping paint chips to his bedroom wall in anticipation of redecorating the room that will become my new home office.

“But wait, what if I need to come back?”

Love ya kiddo, not an option.

Did you ever feel like you could do no wrong and everything you touch will just turn to gold?

Yeah, me neither.

Have a good one kids.

Saturday, September 13, 2008

I have always been a little ashamed of my dreams. While others spoke of dreams about flying, battling monsters or even walking through the office stark naked, I would dream about frantically searching for a bathroom at a U2 concert. Typically prefaced by too many Dr Peppers prior to crawling between the sheets.

I do have one interesting dream. I dream that I am driving down a busy freeway and I can’t open my eyes. I swerve to the left, swerve to the right and keep trying to open my eyes. Oh, and sometimes I also need to go to the bathroom. You don’t have to be the big S.F. to figure out what that shit means. My psyche is convinced that my life is out of control and my bladder is telling me to lay off the late night Dr Peppers.

Is anyone really in control of their lives? "Normal" people make plans and goals and do their best to make them happen. Whether your goal is to become a brain surgeon or simply screw Angelia Jolie, a goal is a goal. You can attempt to get on a path where those things may happen but even in the most organized life, circumstances will fuck with you every time.

You can't control what your kids do when you're not around and you can't control whether your boss wants to take out his bad fucking night on you. You can't control who falls in love with you and who pretends to in order to get some ponany. Hell, if you are female, you can't even control the day you're going to be bleeding from the crotch. It is all a crap shoot. Some winners, some losers but we are all trying to avoid being punched in the head by life while trying to scrap the dog shit off of our new Marc Jacobs pumps concurrently.

In the meantime, I am going to try to have a more interesting life in order to spice up my dreams, stop thinking about heavy shit before I fall asleep and lay off the Dr. Peppers.

At least there are itsy bitsy things in my part of the universe I can control.

Tuesday, September 9, 2008

I almost had time to do a blog entry and then my new fucking assistant reminded me I had a meeting.

Had to slap her ass down yesterday when she came in to gossip about things that are going around the business community regarding her predecessor.

I looked her straight in the eye and told her that I do not listen to gossip. I don't care who or what it has to do with, I don't want to hear it. She is NEVER to share this shit with me again if she wants to keep her job.

She looked crestfallen. Probably thought we were going to have a bonding experience and polish each others nails.

Yeah....I don't bond. Now get the fuck out and type something.

Thursday, September 4, 2008

A Parting Of Ways

I found it necessary to fire an employee that has been with me for ten years. I was her mentor and she was my protege for a very long time.

The necessity to part ways was her fault and although I did everything I could to make it easy on her...

a big severance package, no controverting of unemployment claim, health insurance coverage for six months, etc etc etc...

I still feel like shit.

There is only so much you can do for a person that doesn't want to help themselves. I offered to keep her insurance active thinking she might want to take advantage of seeing someone...

And by someone I meant a fucking shrink because she has lost a freakin' mind.

She informed me that she is just fine.

Personally, I don't define fine as coming into work an hour late each day, leaving an hour early and passing all your responsibilities onto someone else.

Wait...that is not only is smart. Well, until about the time she lost her job..but until then, brilliant.

I let this go on a year because she had a life changing event. After ten years of service, I am more than willing for an employee to have an emotional breakdown. As a matter of fact, if you work in my place for ten years, I encourage it.

However, she began to take advantage of my leniency and patience, which started other employees to talk of preferential treatment, which caused morale to go down the fucking toilet.

Fun fun fun.

As a friend said to me...It had to be done. did. But that doesn't mean I can't feel like shit about it.

Wednesday, September 3, 2008

Well, Butter My Butt and Call Me a Biscuit

I actually managed to go an entire day without yelling, screaming or throwing any and all handy objects at my son.

I am so proud.

It was touch and go for a minute when he inquired as to when I planned to go grocery shopping whilst complaining of the lack of his preferred nourishment in the cupboards.

I did manage to force a smile and congratulated him on his love of Ramen Noodles. Simply because he is going to be eating them a good long time.

SCM is dealing with the son's sabbatical from life a lot worse than I. Although both of them hang around the house all day so they are bound to get on each other nerves.

At minimum, the snoring from the many naps required to survive all that late night gaming must be annoying.

In any case, I think I am just about ready for sainthood.

Unless one has to be which case...please put off submitting my name for a few years.

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

Holy shit. Am I a sucky blogger or what? I can't believe I have not posted shit in over a week.

As if I could possibly go that long with nothing to say.


So for your consideration, I present the highlights of the past week.

I worked, I slept, took several shits and probably picked my nose in my car a few times.

I know, amazing how I accomplished all that in a mere 9 days. Fortunately, I am a multitasker.

School has begun which results in my having to will my fat ass out of bed an hour earlier every day. I would think at nine years of age, the princess could fucking drive herself. A few phone books and a block of wood and she could reach the petals and see out the windshield just fine. I think she's just plain lazy.

I also need to announce that my wonderful son is taking time from school to find himself. Well, shit, I can help him with that.

He is in his room either sleeping until 2pm or playing guitar hero.

There...found. Now put down the controller, put out the joint and get the fuck out of my house.

I shouldn't be so hard on him. After all, he is quite adamant about having a plan.

"My plan is to mooch off of you until you throw my ass out."

Everyone needs a goal and I guess that one is as good as any other.

I'll get to checking up on the kewl kids' blogs really soon. Promise.


Monday, August 18, 2008

I am in no mood.

Going home now to finish the ark.

Cockroaches and red ants aren't invited this time around.

Sunday, August 17, 2008

Terry chimed in during my bitch shrink contemplation and asked

"Holy mother of christ!!

You seem so normal to be seeing a psychiatrist.

wtf happened??

You HAVE heard of SCM right? I would think I would be within my rights to say, nuff said. However, it is Sunday morning and since I hate the Catholic Church lately I will enlighten you kewl kids with some words of wisdom by Moi.

Not that I normally actually attend church service on Sunday. BAAAA. I am more of a C and E gal myself. But I do try to make it a habit of doing unto others or not speaking ill or whatever the fuck the big JC had to say about my ragging on the SCM in the written word.

Although I am inclined to call him a fucking prick to his face.

But I digress.

It occurred to me that many of you readers of RMDWAI have actually discovered me here.

So for you, my new friends, here is my story.

My first blog was lovingly titled, 100 Reasons Why I Hate My Husband. It was also hosted by blogger. It did grow enough to deserve its own domain name. WhyIhatemyhusbanddotcom. Don't bother clicking it, it crashed one fine day and even though I still "rent" the name, it has been stuck in neutral for well over a year now. Possibly two.

After getting over 100,000 hit, I did make it to the one hundredth reason before it crashed and burned. Some still think that was planned and have never found me again. It really was not. I don't know if I would have continued to write on that site but I certainly would have left it up. It was a great site that my good friend worked hard to make and I loved so many things about it.

But alas....

This followed Peanut Butter which SCM found and that one I pulled out of guilt.

Which brought us all here.

Back to Terry's original question. I think 100 Reasons was a kind of cheap therapy. I was able to get out my animosity in a humorous way and still retain my sanity.

However, now I have the stinky bastard back in my house, annoying the shit out of me once again and no place to vent about it. Does he read this blog? Maybe but I don't give a flying fig. If so, dear, stop fucking pawing all over me. I fucking HATE THAT. Also, following me to the bathroom isn't endearing, it is fucking annoying and a little sad.



Believe me kids, with all this fucking anger, Chris in therapy makes the world a much safer place.

Friday, August 15, 2008

I am going to cross the line today and blast organized religion.

Collectively the people that run organized religion are a bunch of political, greedy, self serving pieces of dog shit.


I'll be on the phone yelling at the priest of the local parish for attempting to extort more fucking money out of me in the name of the "Lord".

May your weekend be blessed by whatever god,celestial body, spiritual leader or bologna sandwich that gives you comfort.


Tuesday, August 12, 2008

Me? A Bitch?

I know this is going to shock the hell out of all of you, but I actually have a shrink that I see pretty regularly.

I am sure your delusion of my being the most perfect female on the planet is now shot to shit but you'll just have to get over it.

I will not tell you why I feel the need to piss away 200 bucks an hour but I will tell you that it has nothing to do with hating my mother, being unloved by my father, being bullied in the third grade by Fat Frieda or being diddled by Uncle Sleaze after Thanksgiving dinner.

However, the reason I am mentioning this is that my therapist called me a BITCH last week.

As in.."Wow, you can really be a bitch, can't you?"

HEY! Are these dudes supposed to make judgements like that? Of course I took it as a compliment but still....what if I never aspired to be a bitch. What if I always thought I was a sweet gal with impeccable non bitchy ways and this person that is in charge of my Psyche just insulted me?

At that point in the session, my mind began to wonder about what the fuck he meant by that? So being that we were on my 200 bucks, I asked...

"What the fuck do you mean by that?"

And he chuckled and said time was up.

It occurs to me that the SOB just goaded me into laying down another 200 bucks to find out why he thinks I am a bitch.

Brilliant move dude. I hope you're on commission.

Friday, August 8, 2008

Back To School

School begins again in two weeks. I realize that some of you are anxious for the kiddies to return to the classroom but during the summer I get to sleep in a couple of extra hours each day.

I am getting older and I NEED that extra beauty sleep God Damn It!

I printed the school supplies list off of the Internet and I will be meeting with the bank manager to secure the loan that will be necessary very soon. Two pages of very specific supplies. I am still trying to figure out what she is going to do with 30 boxes of baby wipes and 30 cans of Lysol.
Are the kids THAT dirty and stinky?

I am happy that the Princess's teacher is the same woman she had in 1st grade. Not only is she very nice, she effectively communicates via Internet daily posts. For working mom's like me, that is a beautiful thing. It is nice that she acknowledges that all the kids don't have professional dads and soccer moms despite the hefty tuition.

I think as a teacher it would drive me crazy having all those moms grilling me about their kids every single fucking day but I guess if you came from a school with no parental interaction, it might be nice.
For a day or two.

Then I would imagine you'd miss the junky dads and crack whore moms that stay the hell out of your classroom and don't question every fucking aspect of the lesson plan.

I don't hate SAHMs by any means. It is a great gig if you can get it. They feel like they are very in tune to every aspect of their kids lives.

Of course, being me, I found it necessary to smack down that theory during a Girl Scout "High Tea" recently.

At the end of high tea which consisted of PB&J finger sandwiches with the crusts cut off, the moms and daughters were handed a blank piece of paper.

"We are going to play a game", the leader bubbled. "It is called who knows their daughter the best. We will follow that with who knows their mom the best."

I have to be honest, I fucking panicked. Here I am in a room with SAHMs who live and breath their kids. I would imagine they rarely throw the kid last night's left over pizza for breakfast or simply turn the uniform shirt inside out when they forget to wash it.

20 questions for each of us.
What is your child's favorite TV show.

What is your daughter's favorite color.

Favorite thing to do with Mom.

Blah Blah.

Princess and I got 18/20 and 17/20. The closest soccer mom had 13.

We rock.

Something to be said for quality time. Or perhaps merely paying attention.

Sorry to bore you all today. We'll talk more about oral sex next week.

Thursday, August 7, 2008

Last night I traded SCM oral sex for a Doggy Loo. Does that make me a slut? What if I said I got him to throw in the extra grass?

Sunday, August 3, 2008

Things that are pissing me off.

It occurs to me that my first husband is turning 50 this year. What the fucking fuck?! Sorry kids but 50 is fucking old no matter how you look at it. Funny how I still see him with the long hair blow under and bell bottoms. I remember how at 16, this 23 year old with a kewl cuda convertible and great taste in rock n roll was the end all be all of my existence for ten years. Now for the life of me, I can't even fathom what I saw in him. Couples that can meet young and stay and grow together for years have my utmost respect. I just can't see it.

In addition, the things that annoy me most about my son is the shit he got from his Dad. Little quarks that I found so endearing years ago. Now I feel like slapping both of them on principal.


To make matters worse, my father turned 65 this year. 65. That is a fucking senor citizen! His hair is going grey but he still has a lot of it and in no way seems that...dare I say it again? OLD.

By the time my parents were my age, I had made them grandparents for the first time. Fortunately, I don't think I have anything to be concerned about as far as that goes.

I can't get the fucking kid out of the house, let alone responsible enough to support a family. When he stops stealing his baby sisters quarters for burritos at Taco Bell, I'll start worrying about learning to knit baby blankets., but it sounds nice. I'll just buy them from a designer store, rip off the tags and swear I got arthritis making the fucking things.
To continue: With SCM back, my pantry is now too fucking neat and I can't stand it. Canned goods on one shelf, boxed below it, cereal opened in front, unopened in back....who the hell can live that way?
I forgot to pay the pool guy and make my car payment. Apparently both of these companies got a little testy at my oversight. I mean it isn't that I don't have the actually funds...I just didn't distribute them in a timely manner. Shit happens so fuck off.

AND the spare dog shit on my fucking pillow yesterday.

See ya later, I need a mimosa to even consider getting on with this day.

Friday, August 1, 2008

A thought.

It really is true that the older you get, the faster time goes by bringing you closer and closer to death and decay.

Now you all go and have a great weekend..ya hear?

Saturday, July 26, 2008

When I think of vacation, I tend to imagine five star accommodations, room service, gourmet meals, shopping, museums, maybe a play or two. Sometimes I think of a luxury cruise with stewards and waiters to do my bidding.

Tennessee Smoky Mountains? Not so much.

But that was the plan devised by the family with a shrug and whatever by me.

Whatever indeed.

What I was not considering at the time was that:

1. It is July.

2. Mountains involve hiking.

3. Mountains go up.

I spent most of the vacation waving and saying God Bless.

The rented "cabin" was nice. The only thing cabin about it was that it was made of wood and was unpainted. We all had king sized beds and private commodes. I was able to rough my way through that with nary a complaint.

They did convince me to go white water rafting which was more like stagnant creek pushing. There is currently a drought in Tennessee and the rocks that usually lay unnoticed at the bottom, are now part of an obstacle course. Oh, don't get me wrong, we still had to paddle our asses off to get around said rocks. Which of course led to painful arms and shoulders.

So here I am. Done with vacation. All my nails are broken, my arms, legs and shoulders hurt and I have a sunburn.

Next time Club Fucking Med.

Thursday, July 17, 2008

Toilet Seats, Electicity and Stupid Employees.

The CEO of my company came in earlier today with an elongated toilet seat in hand. Now personally I would think any conversation would begin with the explanation of a grown man carting around the hat of a porcelain pony. But alas he simply inquired what time the board meeting was going to take place that afternoon.

"4pm and nice bracelet"

"Oh yeah, I was going up to reception to find out why this thing was on my desk."

My horror was abated when he explained it was new and clean when it was placed on the center of his desk.

Turns out maintenance ordered rest room parts and my brilliant receptionist decided that the CEOs office was the perfect place to put the new hiney platform.

In the immortal words of Forest Gump, that's all I have to say about that.

I am usually the last person to leave my office each night. I enjoy the peace and quiet of the place without hormonal women bitching about everything from torn pantyhose to who is fucking whose boyfriend and why. As I walked around turning up the AC and flicking off the lights, an annoying thing happened. One of the lights would not go out. I flicked the switch, a flicker and right back on.


Fortunately, this particular light is controlled by two switches, one on either wall. So I calmly crossed the room and flicked the other one. Same thing.

Double hummm.

Somewhere in my dysfunctional upbringing I must have heard horror stories about electricity and fires because things like this scare the shit out of me.

I refused to leave the light on and needed to figure out how to turn the circuit breaker off until the electrician could be called the next day. The next problem is how to know which breaker controls the light since the breaker box is on the other end of the floor and I won't be able to see if I start flicking breakers which lights go out. Yeah know, because what would the builders actually label the fucking things. That would make far too much sense.

I catch one of the employees in the parking lot, drag them back in to watch, call their cell and start flicking.....finally, the light goes out.

I call the electrician, leave a message and head home.

This morning I came in and the lights are on. Since I left a note not to turn on the lights and that the electrician had been called, I assumed he showed up.

I would be wrong.

I was informed that it was only the circuit breaker and a very industrious employee figured this out and switched it back on.


I was dreading the family reunion taking place next week in Tennessee that I will be attending but right now if it is a choice of these numnutz or the numnutz that are of my blood, I'll choose family any old day.

See you all July 28th. Keep a light burning but only if it won't cause a fire.

Tuesday, July 15, 2008

Stinky Cheese Man rides back into town having traded his black hat for white with a plan to chip away at the 100 Reasons why I hated the smelly fucker.

Doesn't he understand that I have no material for my blog if he kisses my ass, makes awesome meals, pay the bills and keep the house spotless?

What a selfish bastard.

I am a couple of weeks late. No, I don't mean for high tea at Buckingham Palace, I mean I should have begun bleeding from the crotch many many days ago.

Since I had my tubes cut, burned, tied off and kicked around the floor by the surgical staff, it is very unlikely that a little SCM is cooking. However, since one of his husbandly responsibilities include servicing his wife every night, he noticed that Aunt Flo hasn't been around lately.

Not that he is complaining about the nightly workout but he did ask expectantly if it is possible that our little family could soon include another eating, sleeping, shitting machine.

I pictured this little bald headed, ugly baby with my bad attitude and SCMs horrible sense of humor and gasped. We lucked out with our 9 year old daughter. Fortunately, she is nothing like either of us.

She is actually sweet, funny, loving and generous.

I wouldn't dare tempt fate again.

Sunday, July 13, 2008

First let me say that I love my mother dearly. I have to preface my entry with this as my sister has taken to checking on my blog every once in a while and I don't want to give her motive to have me cut out of the will.

So, Mother, yeah, awesome, beautiful and multi talented woman.

I was catching up on your blogs yesterday and came across an interesting entry from Karen. Apparently she was amazed and enamored with a new find called Shake and Bake and mentioned that her mother never used such conveniences while she was growing up.

As someone who practically grew up on Hamburger helper and Shake and Bake, I was jealous that I didn't have a mom like Karen's.

It wasn't until I was out on my own that I found out that green beans and peas don't always come in cans and real soup doesn't require equal amounts of water added. Fresh broccoli and Cauliflower weren't only available at Christmas and Thanksgiving and people actually make biscuits that didn't require being plummeted on the side of the counter to open.

In Mom's defense she was a busy woman. She had all those crosswords to do and black coffee to drink. She was a phenomenal housekeeper and I would never take that away from her. But lets face it, after raising a family, doing all the housework , laundry and running a small company, Mother had it made.

No, no, hold your applause.

She was very talented at painting a room in 1968 and taking credit for it until 1985 when she got around to painting the next one. She also mowed the lawn in the summer and shoveled the walk in the winter.

I don't want her to seem like a spoiled brat, she was anything but that.

Mother is unique and all siblings have to have one crazy parent to create a bond between them and she fills that role quite nicely.

I just wanted some homemade fucking biscuits and peas that weren't gray and squishy. Was that too much to ask?

Saturday, July 5, 2008

Why is every neighborhood child under ten in my pool right now?

They all have pools so that isn't it. The kids are always here...playing inside, in the backyard. in the pool or in the oven. (That is just wishful thinking).

Somehow the little shits got together and decided that I am the....Kewl Mom.

FUCK on a biscuit.

All the other parents get to send their kids out for the day to play. Not to be seen or heard from until the street lights come on but not Ms. Chris.

Oh no! I get to watch, feed and clean up after their little monsters every fucking weekend. And when I say every weekend, I mean every weekend.

I was recently informed by one of the snot nosed brats that I rock.

I thought about this for a while. Why do I rock? Why are they here and not down the block? What am I doing wrong?

And the answer came to me.

I don't give a flying fuck what they do here as long as they don't annoy me. The rules consist of no sharp objects, nothing that can cause a flame, don't' drowned the dogs and keep away from my booze. Other than that, it is a free for all.

Every once in a while I will bring out some juice boxes and chips and let them go to town. The dogs manage to clean up what lands on the patio and SCM bitches about old juice boxes in the skimmer but it is well worth it.

As long as they don't bug me.

In essence, I like it because contrary to what you may think..I am kinda attached to my kid and like to know where she is. I am not one to set her loose in the neighborhood looking for danger and destruction.

When she's here and putting dish washing soap in the pool to make bubbles, at least I know she's safe and sound.

Ut oh, it just got quiet, I'd better check for smoke.

Saturday, June 28, 2008

Do you know what every one needs?

Space saver bags. You know the kind of bags that you shove your sweater in, suck out the air and it becomes as flat as a titty dancer before the boob job?

Yeah..we all need those.

About...errrr....14 of them.

And the Vidalia Slice Wizard! What a tool! You can slice thick or thin..make frenchfries..MOUNTAINS of them. salsa, tacos. Shit, it is SEVEN different kitchen tools in one!

Of course who could do without the Smart Spin. I mean you need a place to put all those sliced vegetables. It isn't like all of us actually COOK or anything.

Do you know what else everyone should have?

Nine..count them NINE Doo Whoop CDs.

Because you'll need something to listen too as you suck all the air out of those plastic bags and peel and store those onions.

Oh but no one should be without Inner Health Sole pads. These things clear all the toxins from your body through your feet. I guess how toxic you are will be determined by how black and gross those wonderful pads are when you peel them off.

I don't want any toxins in my body. I am sure you feel the same! For $49.95 plus $13.00 shipping and handling..those babies can be yours too!

However, do you REALLY want to know what we all need? Someone of sound mind to pull away the credit card and the cordless telephone at 3am when one has a fever and is buying all this shit.

I have felt like Steve Martin in the Jerk as I lay in front of the television wheezing and coughing.

I need thhhiisssssss. Oh, I've got to have thhhiiissssss.

I mean really, some of this shit is BRILLIANT. BRILLIANT I tell you.

Anyone know what channel QVC is on brighthouse? I have a long night ahead.

Thursday, June 26, 2008

I can never do anything half way. You know, like just having a simple fucking cold.

Oh noooo. That would be too freakin' easy.

My sniffles have to turn into coughing which turn into intensely painful hacking which then proceed to turn into right AND left lower lobe pneumonia.

I mean shit, if I'm going to be sick I may as well go for the entire sympathy factor. Which I am demanding and rightfully deserving due to the big ass needle filled with stinging antibiotic injected into by cute but tender tuckus. It was either that or the hospital and I don't do hospitals unless I am birthin' a baby or exiting the universe and as far as I know, neither is applicable to the current situation. At least I have not lost my sense of humor. I made the LPN laugh when she told me my Oxygen level was below 80 and I asked what she expected, when I was given no time to study.

Guess you had to be there.

Now I am stuck in bed blowing into some useless plastic gadget that has a point but I have yet to figure it out and trying to not scream out in pain like a sissy bitch every time I cough.

Hope your week is going better.

Monday, June 23, 2008

Aahhh Chhooo.

I am sick.

Unfortunately, I am not high fever, lay in bed and don’t care if the world goes to shit around you sick. No, I am not lucky like that. I am just sick enough that I feel like shit but must function in daily life. Although I am fixing life’s ass by coughing and sneezing all over the fucker.

So there.

They say a cold is three days coming and three days going. According to that formula, I should have been on the road to recovering just about……….wait for it…….


Those theys are fucking liars.

I am not better than I was yesterday, as a matter of fact, I am not better than I was ten fucking minutes ago. I am miserable and whiny and I want my Mommy.

I would call her except she would come over, feel my head, pronounce I have no fever, roll her eyes and go home to call everyone and tell them how she had to spend the night taking care of her eldest…who, as it happens, is such a wimp.

So there will be no calling of the matriarch tonight.

Good thing too because my daughter has been on the phone with her friends for hours. She’s nine. What the fuck do they have to talk about for hours? Old times?

Whatever, at least she is out of my fucking hair so I can wallow in self pity to my dogs who have not left my side all day. Although that could be because I haven’t had the strength or motivation to feed them but I prefer to think of it as loyalty at its most pure and simple.

Maybe I do have that fever.

Isn't it amazing how much snot can actually come out of a person’s nose? Where does this goo come from exactly? A must have snot rags totally one or two gallons of the junk with no end in site. What? Too much information. Hey, I didn't invite you here, you came all on your own.

Mother did just call to pronounce that “Summer colds are the WORST! You will probably be sick for weeks.”

Thanks, Ma. Love you too.

George Carlin 1937-2008 RIP

When I suggest George Carlin should stop performing, I meant retirement, I didn't mean he should stop fucking breathing.

I guess I need to be more specific next time.

George croaking makes me a tad melancholy. He was the first comedian I had ever seen in person as my first husband was a huge fan. 20 years later, it was the first comedian my son and I sat in an audience and shared the laughter together.

In his younger days when he was high on life as much as pharmacology, his observational humor struck a cord with the baby boomers saying things that had yet to be unsaid...especially broadcasted on the airwaves.

During a show in the early seventies, he was arrested for saying the 7 dirty things not permitted on the radio or television. To refresh your memory...."Shit, Piss, Fuck, Cunt, CockSucker, MotherFucker, and Tits". Later it was rebroadcast on a New York radio station resulting in a 1978 Supreme Court ruling upholding the government's authority to sanction stations for broadcasting offensive language during hours when children might be listening.

George is quoted as saying that even though it went the wrong way, he was proud to be a part of American history.

George Carlin had a small part of my history and I am sure many of you at the kewl kid's table as well.

Rest in peace Mr. C and thanks for the laughs.

Thursday, June 19, 2008

Enuff of SCM.

I don't do this meme shit very often and even when I do, I insist on being the one to start it. This way I can learn shit about you all without having to reveal a thing about myself.

Clever, ain't I?

It amazes me that I still have readers from 100 Reasons but this really is a close knit community and I guess I shouldn't be that surprised. I enjoy so many blogs and even when I shut one down for a while, I am still drawn to know what you kids are up to.

Where else can you get entertainment like this for free. We've got everything...broken hearts, trailer trash, noisy neighbors even nosier in laws, babies having babies, dead pets, live pets we would like to kill, PETA nuts, Vegans and those who hate PETA nuts and Vegans. I could go on but you know who you all are.

Given the fact that I have picked up new readers here and there, it is always fun to try to out the really crazy fucks and the best way to do that is with a few questions disguised as a Meme. Post the answers on your own blog and comment when you have done so. You are required to tag every single person you have linked while raising your hands over your head spinning and singing the theme from Facts of Life. Or answer here and don't link anyone. I don't give a shit.

Meme About Nothing for No Reason.

1. You just received too much change. What is the most that you would feel obligated to come clean about it..if at all?

2. What is the last present you regifted?

3. You're puking your guts up from the flu and are delirious, who do you call to take care of you?

4. It is 4am, you're at Dennys (or any 24 hour diner like establishment) after a night of drinking. What did you just order?

5. You were just handed $2500 and must spend it going away for the weekend. Where are you going and are you going to ask anyone to come along?

6. Who shared your first ever romantic kiss and do you know where that person is now?

Please let me know if you played.

After being out in the single at 40 world for almost two years, I have come to the conclusion that it is fucking scary as hell out there.

With few exceptions, men over 40 that are single are single for a reason. They are either gay, been burned and are bitter as fucking hell or are bat shit crazy.

I've yet to date a guy that wasn't at least two of the above.

Just about the time I became resigned to sleep with my teddy bear..simply because I know where he had been... an interesting thing happened.

I realized that Stinky Cheese Man wasn't all the bad comparitively speaking.

Yes sirree it is that bad out there.

Actually, to give credit where credit is due, SCM has been working on himself in order to attempt to win back my heart.

When he found Who Stole My Peanut Butter and 100 Reasons Why I Hate My Husband, he was furious and embarrassed. But to his credit, he also took a step back and had a good look at himself from my eyes. He didn't like what he saw.

Do I think people can change? Honestly, I really do not. But what I do believe is that they can alter their behavior and control their emotions even if they can not stop having them.

SCM has worked hard to do that and I must give credit where credit is due.

It isn't only that he tried to is he tried to change for me and honestly, after all this time and still trying to win me back gets a perfect 10 on the sappy AAWWWW meter. He's got a great job he has held for a while, has saved a bunch of money, impressed me with the single dad thing and was always available to kill the big hairy bugs with a moments notice.
As shocking as it may seem, he also has realized that toothpaste and soap are our friend when we chain smoke two cartons a week.

I think the biggest wake up call is when I kept comparing others I was interested in to him. SCM would have remembered my birthday, SCM would have done with the dishes after I cooked, SCM would have told me I look great in these ratty shorts with my hair sticking up. SCM would have brought me coffee when he got himself a cup and so on and so on.

Is my marriage going to work this time? Well, if nothing else, I will have tons of new material for my blog and afterall, what could be more important than that?

Tuesday, June 17, 2008

This is Dane Cook.

This is Dane Cook being funny.

See, no difference.

The guy’s not funny. Not funny at all.

Not even mouth goes up with a hint of a smile funny.

However, the dude sells out where ever he performs.

He sold out Madison Square Fucking Garden for God’s sake.

So I got to thinking….whose asses were filling the 20,000 seats at the Garden? What demographic has the inability to distinguish funny from notsomuch funny?

I knew it couldn't’t be the baby boomers. We invented commentary stand up after having just about enough of the pies in the face and the one ringydingys of Laugh In.

Now seeing that I didn’t see many walkers or canes in the aisles, I had to surmise that it is the people under 30 that think this crack pot has talent.

Ignoring the fact that he is accused of stealing other people’s jokes…he obviously picked some bad ones, his stand up has no punchlines. They are just ramblings about…well about nothing that go nowhere.

True I grew up to comedic genius of Richard Pryor and Steve Martin. Later Robin Williams, Sam Kinison progressing into the likes of Lewis Black and Dave Chapelle.

Then this…this….I am sorry but I can’t call him a comedian..this guy comes along who lacks creativity, imagination and quite obviously a sense of humor.

My 19 year old son thinks he is hysterical. When I ask why, he is unable to explain it. When pressed he replied “I just can relate to things he says.”

“What? The one about kicking doors in for no particular reason or about how manipulative and stinging a woman can be with words. Can you tell me specifically what it is you “relate” to?”

“Mom, you just don’t get it.” Which is very true.

Perhaps you do and if you do, please take a minute to comment and explain it to me. I must be missing something.

Tuesday, June 10, 2008

What The Fuck Was It?!

Everyone has their own little neurosis that they are forced to deal with in their daily lives. I happen to have more than most but the fact that most people can relate to at least one of them gives me the justification to avoid spending thousands on psychotherapy.

That being said, one particular...let's call it a quirk, is that I absolutely hate to use a toilet that hasn’t been flushed by the previous resident that had squatted on the throne. I also won’t leave the kids off at any pool that is not my own but that is neither here nor there. As a matter of fact, it is always here and never there.

But I digress.

Being that I refuse to plant my patookie on a bowl containing anything but clean water, I am inclined to look before setting my fat ass down.

Which is what I did last night in my own home.

I have never been quite so glad I had this particular habit until I took my usual quick glance in and saw something that seemed to move under the toilet seat.

I gasped, jumped back and what the fucked in that order.

Fortunately, I no longer had to go because I had peed my pants.

I took a deep breath and stepped back to see what could have crawled on my ass, up my ass or around my ass if I had not looked.


As I peered in, breath held, I saw that there was a fucking frog in my toilet.

Yes, you read that right. A frog.

Quickly a slammed the lid shut and rested my ass on my cushy toilet seat cover to prevent its escape.

Now I too have read that frogs can turn into princes with a kiss but I wasn’t the least bit interested in having Prince Charming anywhere near this particular throne at the moment not to mention where those lips have just been.

I racked my brain for some kind of solution to the problem.

Frog in the toilet….frog in the toilet…..frog in the toilet.

I had nuttin.

I didn’t want to try to flush it down…one it was a cute little froggy and two, I have heard they have enough problems just being green.

However, if I ever wanted to use the master bathroom bowl ever again, something would have to be done.

I have to say even the most annoying of men can come in handy for unexpected circumstances….like frogs perched under toilet seats. SCM being available quickly came to my aid.

As I bit my knuckle, he opened the lid like it was an every day occurrence. Apparently Kermit didn’t think so because he used all the strength in those little froggy hind legs to propel himself out of the toilet and onto the curtains across the room.

I screamed a scream that any director would have been proud to use in the worst of slasher movies.

SCM calmly went to the curtain,,picked the thing up bare fucking handed and walked it outside to live in peace and harmony in its little froggy world.

I plan to suffer from post traumatic stress syndrome for years to come.