Last night my son came home with his new girlfriend.

Who had more holes in her head than Hillary Clinton had holes in her recollection of actual past events.

She must have had ten earring in each ear, a nose ring, some kind piercing going on over her upper lip and a tongue ring. I assumed she had others but I was spared the trauma of confirmation.

The tongue ring wasn't apparent until we were introduced.

Her name was Missy or Candy or Rainbow.....to tell you the truth, I think I have post traumatic stress disorder and my memory has blacked out most of the details.

As I lied, "It is very nice to meet you", she replied, "Garble, lisp, lisp, garble click click".

As if all these piercing didn't satisfy her need for self expression and individuality, she also had several very large tattoos. Now I have nothing against tattoos, as a matter of fact, I have a small rose on my ankle, but this one had a very large piece of body art that was hard to miss. There was a pair of angel wings on each one of her arms. She also had some kind of chinese lettering on the back of her neck that I was afraid to ask to have interpreted. Of course no self respecting skank would feel complete without the tramp stamp in keeping with the angel theme.

I inquired whether my son and his friend had met at school and my son informed me that Missy Candy Rainbow was not currently attending school but working on her GED because she decided to drop out to pursue a music career.

All at once, my future flashed before my eyes. My son impregnating this social reject and all three of them moving in with me. Images of this malingerer planting her ass on my sofa all day after the kid is born writing letters and making audition tapes in hopes of getting her big break on American Idol as I give her a weekly ride to pick up her free formula and government cheese.

"Jim, can I talk to you in private for a minute?" I asked with a forced smile.

As he followed me into my bedroom, I told him it was about time I explained the facts of life to him.

He laughed and said he knows all about sex.

Well, good, then you know that if you ever put any part of your body near that girl, you will be killing your mother. Just remember that every thrust will be like putting another knife in my heart.

Now go and have a wonderful time.

It occurred to me recently that my favorite part of the day is climbing into bed at the end of it. Now seeing that I do that pretty much alone...it makes for a very sad existence.

So last night, I decided that I am going to make my favorite part of the day waking up. Just to shake things up a bit.

It went great too! Well, until I threw that fucking annoying clock radio out the window. I think I also ruined a squirrels morning as well. I don't' think he was expecting a small appliance coming at him at 40mph while he was innocently collecting acorns or whatever the fuck those rats with tails do with their day.

So as I opened the window to apologize and asked him what his favorite part of the day was?

He replied that any part of the day when some fucking arrogant human isn't throwing shit at him makes for a pleasant day.

That's what I get for asking a rodent a serious question.

So I beaned the little shit with the book on my nightstand "Controlling Your Temper in Ten Easy Steps" and quickly closed the window.

I don't need some pissed off squirrel and his little beady eyed posse coming in and messing up my shit in retaliation.

So there I was...up and cranky. Not that such a situation was new to me in the morning, only it did spoil my plan and it really was the only one I had made for the day.

Well, besides go to work and take care of my kids and shit.

I made my coffee and noticed that on my little note pad of things to do I had written make morning the best part of the day.

And I couldn't cross it off with the little sharpened pencil I keep on the string next to the list for that very purpose.

It was all that fucking squirrels fault.

I think I will set some traps and try again tomorrow.

Now I have two things on my list.

Like I need this kind of pressure?

TLP, the one lady in blogsville who I wish would adopt me but who seems to be smart enough to refuse, had a terrific post last.....errrr..... whenever. Was it original? I don't know nor do I give a shit but it got a ten from the kewl table in any case.

I would cut and paste it, but fuck that. Go read it yourself. I've got more important shit to bitch about.

Ya know, what she had to say is all well and good but what the fuck do you do with all the people who think you are their friend that send you this shit? Or worse, the folks that are actually from the same gene pool but unfortunately, the best part of them ran down their Momma's leg?

Do you send them the Snopes link and make them feel like a total loser or do you just allow them to think they are sharing their all important news with the world and feel good about themselves?

Or do you use the more direct approach and tell them if they ever send you such bullshit again, you will go to their house and threaten to bash their fucking skull in if they ever put one more bit of this bullshit in your inbox.

How the fuck am I suppose to find the coupons for free shipping and buy one get one frees when all these jerkwads are cluttering up my in box with all their cutesy angels praying for me?

Unless the angel has a coupon for 50% off my entire order, I ain't interested.

Ok kids. Here's a serious question. Actually it is a three parter so I'll wait a sec while you put your thinking caps on.

1. At what age would you consider a woman too old to give birth and raise a baby?

2. At what age would you consider a man too old to raise a baby?

3. What is the oldest woman that you know personally that has given birth to a healthy child?

W.T.F?

I Love You Kids.

I do. You are my sunshine and my light.

That being said....I am up to my ass in work, my assistant subscribes to when the cats away....theory and I haven't shit in five days from eating the greatest chocolate that was ever created. Delicious but just a tad on the binding side.

So I will get to my lovely trip. The trip that not only did they lose my luggage going...they lost is coming back. And here's a little tid bit....a basic blouse is around 85 American dollars.

Oh and sweatshirts that are worn without clothing underneath need to be removed. Just in case the metal detector didn't pick in the Uzi I had shoved down my bra.

We will talk later. Maybe after I buy several boxes of ex lax and don't feel like killing everyone that comes within ten feet of me.

I Am Home

What would a Christine trip be without body searches, missing luggage and threats of German incarceration? Yeah, story to come.

If there is only one truth that you need to know about me, it is when I say I am not going to do something for a while, you'll be sure I'll be doing it in............less than a while.

Like the next fucking day.

Sure I am still going away and sure, I should be shopping for big bulky sweaters that make my hips looks smaller and international power adapters...

But I got some shit to say Gd Damn It!

Some crazy ass employee applicant called me.........

Racist.

She was so angry and so adamant that when I looked in the mirror next I was expecting to see I wore a white hood and burning crosses on my neighbor's lawns were my plans for the evening.

Apparently, because I wasn't giving her the job she wanted, my company practiced discrimination against minorities.

You know, it couldn't be that I didn't want her because she was annoying and bat shit insane?

Naaaa. It was the color of her skin that was the problem.

Now I have actually heard these things go on. I chuckled at the obviously embellished stories fully aware that the phenomenon was rare.

Except........

Gah...there was some crazy fucking bitch accusing ME of having prejudices.

This particular accusation shook me up so much I had to take stock of my company.

After I had Nutzo McNumnutz escorted out, I got out my pencil and paper and started drawing little stick number and crossing foursies to make the fivsies.

Because I had to make sure my results were official, you understand.

Presently my staff consists of...

11 White people. yes, I suck...and depending how much I like you, I may even swallow (since coffey inquired.)

7 Black people. (I can't do a break down because I am clueless as to some of their ethnic backgrounds)

4 Hispanics

1 Asian

1 Senior Citizen.

So while I glanced at the results of my modern and advanced study, I noticed that I hire more minorities than non minorities. Not that I do that on purpose either. It just so happens in the land of redneck and high school drop out rates of over 50%, I hired the people most qualified to make me look good.

Fuck you bitch. Go work somewhere that hires the bat shit insane. That minority is one that is well represented after all.

Okay, I suck. I admit it!

After ragging on you kids for not updating...what do I do? The same fucking thing.

Piece of shit hypocrite.

The problem is I run this pesky little business with pesky little officers that want pesky little quarterly reports four times per year.

And something has to keep me in condoms and Ben and Jerry's.

I would swear on the God of All Things Chocolate that I will update soon but I would be fucking lying.

I am going to Geneva next week.

No, not Geneva New York or Illinois or Nebraska or any other state that has a city by that name.

The Geneva.

In Switzerland.

I will bring you all back some cheese.