I was in my first week of community college when I learned the true nature of political correctness. It was in photography 101, my only elective. We were assigned an open project so the teacher could get a feel for our talent. My photo was a rich black and white of a beautiful teenage Latina. It was titled, "Shouldn't you be pregnant by now?". I thought it made a real statement.
When it was my turn I had to stand up in front of everyone, present my photo, and then listen to the other students criticize it. After a fairly awkward silence, this guy Mike said, "I think it's offensive!". The teacher asked him to explain. Mike continued, "It's based on an unflattering stereotype." I didn't say a word, even though the prick had completely missed the point.
I decided I would teach him a lesson, but I wasn't sure exactly how. So I followed him out of class and down through the hall. There was a sudden rush of students out of the nearby classrooms, and the hallway became cramped with an ass-to-elbow density of kids. That's when Mike got distracted, then looked down to see a girl who had apparently fallen to her knees.
Afraid that she'd be crushed by the mob, he swiftly crouched and lifted her torso up from behind by her armpits. I saw what was happening as I passed them. I laughed out loud and snapped a quick picture. The girl wiggled and screamed, "Put me down!". Still supporting her, Mike looked down with a puzzled expression to discover that she had never fallen at all. She was a little person.
Placing her down, Mike was clearly mortified by what he had done. The girl just stormed off into the crowd, so he didn't even get a chance to apologize. That's when I ran my ass back to the darkroom and developed the photo. Then it was straight to the library photocopier to put together some petition posters, which claimed that Mike had picked this nice girl up just to mock her in front of everyone.
By the end of that next week the petition to remove Mike from our campus had been signed by over half the student body. The school didn't even have time to issue a response before Mike just up and left. Apparently he had been getting shoved and threatened all week long. I'm not sure he even needed any further education after that. I had giving him the schooling of a lifetime.
_
Tuesday, June 30
Thursday, June 25
Friday, June 19
Cell phone love!
I don't even like to think about what life would be like if I didn't have a cell phone. This one simple device allows me to live my life to the fullest. It keeps me on top of my family affairs, what my friends are up to, and what time my next booty call wants to meet up for a little game of "No, I don't have a condom either! Ah, who cares? Just put it in!"
Have you ever looked around at your fellow commuters and wondered why they're all on the phone? Who the hell are they talking to at 7:15 in the morning? Well in my case I'm yelling at Phil because my kids don't want to ride the bus and I need him to take them to school. Or maybe I'm calling in sick to work so I can spy on my ex-husband's girlfriend.
A cell phone also has the power to make the people around you feel inferior. But it's not about the type of phone you carry. It's about having someone better to talk to than all the people you're with. It's about planning your next move because wherever you are just isn't cool enough. You don't actually have to be talking to someone. You can pretend. In fact, most of the folks you see talking on their cellphones don't even have service!
What I really enjoy about today's phones is how customizable they are. Mine is pink with rhinestones, and has a miniature dream catcher hanging off the strap. It also has a case which matches my Louis Vuitton bag. And I have the two best ring tones available. It plays "My Humps" for everyone except Luke. For him I've got this hilarious ring tone of Donald Duck having an screaming orgasm.
Luke is our babysitter, and he's is a tall, dark, disturbing fellow who came to our door one night to ask about our home security needs. I didn't think I needed an alarm system, but I did need a babysitter! Apparently he needed the money because he jumped at the chance. He's single, so he's always available at a moment's notice. The kids seem to fearfully respect him.
So Phil and I went on a special date to Bonefish Grill last Wednesday. I left the table to use the bathroom and forgot to take my purse with me. That's when the babysitter called, because my clumsy daughter had fallen through the glass part of the coffee table. I didn't find this out until later, because it took poor Phil the entire ring cycle just to get the phone out of my purse. I got back and couldn't believe the way everyone was gawking. I guess they'd never heard a cartoon duck cum before!
_
Have you ever looked around at your fellow commuters and wondered why they're all on the phone? Who the hell are they talking to at 7:15 in the morning? Well in my case I'm yelling at Phil because my kids don't want to ride the bus and I need him to take them to school. Or maybe I'm calling in sick to work so I can spy on my ex-husband's girlfriend.
A cell phone also has the power to make the people around you feel inferior. But it's not about the type of phone you carry. It's about having someone better to talk to than all the people you're with. It's about planning your next move because wherever you are just isn't cool enough. You don't actually have to be talking to someone. You can pretend. In fact, most of the folks you see talking on their cellphones don't even have service!
What I really enjoy about today's phones is how customizable they are. Mine is pink with rhinestones, and has a miniature dream catcher hanging off the strap. It also has a case which matches my Louis Vuitton bag. And I have the two best ring tones available. It plays "My Humps" for everyone except Luke. For him I've got this hilarious ring tone of Donald Duck having an screaming orgasm.
Luke is our babysitter, and he's is a tall, dark, disturbing fellow who came to our door one night to ask about our home security needs. I didn't think I needed an alarm system, but I did need a babysitter! Apparently he needed the money because he jumped at the chance. He's single, so he's always available at a moment's notice. The kids seem to fearfully respect him.
So Phil and I went on a special date to Bonefish Grill last Wednesday. I left the table to use the bathroom and forgot to take my purse with me. That's when the babysitter called, because my clumsy daughter had fallen through the glass part of the coffee table. I didn't find this out until later, because it took poor Phil the entire ring cycle just to get the phone out of my purse. I got back and couldn't believe the way everyone was gawking. I guess they'd never heard a cartoon duck cum before!
_
Tuesday, June 16
Gain favor with Satan!
Y'all know I'm a Christian woman. I may not go to church, but I still maintain a personal relationship with our lord God. While my faith is strong, I believe that in these days of uncertainty It's still a good idea to hedge your bets. That's why I'll continue to do a little something each day to satisfy the whims of Satan. It's not difficult. In fact, he seems to be whispering little commands to me more often than not!
Finding your path to the dark lord isn't something you should overthink. It's as simple as doing his work. You see, God loves all creatures, both human and animal. The only true way to impress Satan is by destroying ourselves and each other. So don't turn your life around when you hit rock bottom! Instead, point your mortal shovel straight to hell and start digging!
The dark lord is a bit of a prankster, so try carrying out a few silly tricks in his name! You might decide to make fun of a really nice handicapped person. Or dig up a freshly buried corpse and leave it on the bus on a hot day. And if you feel like you've been too much of a Samaritan up until now you could probably make up for it by curb stomping a Latter-Day Saint!
Sure, not everyone can afford to put two of every animal into an RV and drive it off a cliff. Sometimes we've got to make do with what we've got. Like one time when my friend and I came across a couple of possums who were locked in the heat of a territorial stand-off. They were so focused on hissing at each other that they didn't even notice when I ran up and punted one of them off into the woods like a football! The other possum nearly shit a brick!
One thing God really hates is false idols. So go ahead and sacrifice a goat to Zeus, or accept The Weinstein Company into your heart. Maybe you could become a top-tier member of Amway. Pray to Miley Cyrus. Or visit a Krispy Kreme donut shop, and give thanks to the gods of sugar by making physical love to a hot glazed right off the belt!
There's one last trick which will practically guarantee you an enchanted afterlife as an earthbound demon. All you have to do is betray a true man of god. As powerful as this act can be, It's really as simple as tainting a priest's communion wine with the blood of a virgin. Or as complicated as hiring John Walsh under some unholy contract, then keeping him busy for months with something stupid, like locating your spare set of car keys.
_
Finding your path to the dark lord isn't something you should overthink. It's as simple as doing his work. You see, God loves all creatures, both human and animal. The only true way to impress Satan is by destroying ourselves and each other. So don't turn your life around when you hit rock bottom! Instead, point your mortal shovel straight to hell and start digging!
The dark lord is a bit of a prankster, so try carrying out a few silly tricks in his name! You might decide to make fun of a really nice handicapped person. Or dig up a freshly buried corpse and leave it on the bus on a hot day. And if you feel like you've been too much of a Samaritan up until now you could probably make up for it by curb stomping a Latter-Day Saint!
Sure, not everyone can afford to put two of every animal into an RV and drive it off a cliff. Sometimes we've got to make do with what we've got. Like one time when my friend and I came across a couple of possums who were locked in the heat of a territorial stand-off. They were so focused on hissing at each other that they didn't even notice when I ran up and punted one of them off into the woods like a football! The other possum nearly shit a brick!
One thing God really hates is false idols. So go ahead and sacrifice a goat to Zeus, or accept The Weinstein Company into your heart. Maybe you could become a top-tier member of Amway. Pray to Miley Cyrus. Or visit a Krispy Kreme donut shop, and give thanks to the gods of sugar by making physical love to a hot glazed right off the belt!
There's one last trick which will practically guarantee you an enchanted afterlife as an earthbound demon. All you have to do is betray a true man of god. As powerful as this act can be, It's really as simple as tainting a priest's communion wine with the blood of a virgin. Or as complicated as hiring John Walsh under some unholy contract, then keeping him busy for months with something stupid, like locating your spare set of car keys.
_
Friday, June 12
The angel of Doswell!
I was downtown last weekend and ran into Dale Brumfield, the man behind News from Doswell. He can be a little intimidating at first, because he's about 6 ft 10 inches tall, and he's got hands the size of tennis rackets. We chatted a little about our blogs and whatnot. But then he got this really concerned look on his face and he grasped my shoulder really hard.
He said, "Jocelyn, I'm afraid you're in danger!". I looked around, then back at him. "What the heck are you talking about?", I said. "Your sins!", his voice boomed, "I'm talking about your immortal soul!". I laughed. He said, "Come to Doswell and I'll convince you. When we're done you'll know exactly what I mean." As silly as it seemed, it was an intriguing offer.
So last night I drove up to Doswell after work. There isn't much going on out there that I could see. Just farms, woods, a couple of gas stations, and King's Dominion amusement park. As I turned the car onto a dusty side road I noticed a cock-eyed man sitting on the corner. He had a pile of soiled tube socks on his lap, and a sign that read "Thumbless Mittinz - $5 a pare".
A few miles later I was approaching the Brumfield compound, which was fitted with guard towers and a tall fence. I drove through the entrance gate and was greeted by several homely women and about sixty ragamuffin kids, all running around with dirty faces. They stopped and stared and there was an almost perfect silence. Then a small door creaked open, and out stepped our man Dale.
(click image to see the long view)
He led me beyond the crowd into the surrounding woods, and then into a clearing. He gestured towards an old tire filled with oily rainwater. I glanced down, and there, in that small pool of liquid were the secrets of Doswell. The lives, the hopes, and the secrets of a few hundred lost souls. Dale Brumfield is no reporter. He's a Shaman. And for this brief moment he was sharing his horrible vision.
Without warning, Dale yanked a fistful of hair out of my head and threw it in the water. The previous visions were replaced with visions of myself. I gazed deeper, drinking in the essense of my life, wincing at my many indiscretions. All was laid bare. "I believe! And I'm sorry!", I screamed, and for the first time in my life I fell to my knees and just cried and cried from the darkest depths of my soul. Dale whispered, "You shall be forgiven...".
That's when he kicked the back of my head and I fell face first into the disgusting magic tire water. I tried to lift myself out, but Dale was now forcing my head down into the abyss. My sins must have been worse than I'd thought because he held me in there until I'd completely blacked out. When I finally awoke it was midnight and I was lying on my front lawn. My body was wrapped in soaking wet newspapers, and a pair of socks had been placed over my hands.
Everything felt different. I guess you never know how many sins you carry until you've been absolved of them all at once. I began to realize why Dale would live in a place like Doswell. In a way, that town is full of people like me. Confused outsiders, all of us trying to make it through the day in whatever way makes sense to us. I truly believe that those who have been healed by Brumfield have been forgiven in the eyes of the almighty. One day we'll all be in heaven together, and the rest of you fuckers will be eating shit down in Hell!
Edit:
Apparently the Doswell spin machine is in full effect over this one!
He said, "Jocelyn, I'm afraid you're in danger!". I looked around, then back at him. "What the heck are you talking about?", I said. "Your sins!", his voice boomed, "I'm talking about your immortal soul!". I laughed. He said, "Come to Doswell and I'll convince you. When we're done you'll know exactly what I mean." As silly as it seemed, it was an intriguing offer.
So last night I drove up to Doswell after work. There isn't much going on out there that I could see. Just farms, woods, a couple of gas stations, and King's Dominion amusement park. As I turned the car onto a dusty side road I noticed a cock-eyed man sitting on the corner. He had a pile of soiled tube socks on his lap, and a sign that read "Thumbless Mittinz - $5 a pare".
A few miles later I was approaching the Brumfield compound, which was fitted with guard towers and a tall fence. I drove through the entrance gate and was greeted by several homely women and about sixty ragamuffin kids, all running around with dirty faces. They stopped and stared and there was an almost perfect silence. Then a small door creaked open, and out stepped our man Dale.
(click image to see the long view)
He led me beyond the crowd into the surrounding woods, and then into a clearing. He gestured towards an old tire filled with oily rainwater. I glanced down, and there, in that small pool of liquid were the secrets of Doswell. The lives, the hopes, and the secrets of a few hundred lost souls. Dale Brumfield is no reporter. He's a Shaman. And for this brief moment he was sharing his horrible vision.
Without warning, Dale yanked a fistful of hair out of my head and threw it in the water. The previous visions were replaced with visions of myself. I gazed deeper, drinking in the essense of my life, wincing at my many indiscretions. All was laid bare. "I believe! And I'm sorry!", I screamed, and for the first time in my life I fell to my knees and just cried and cried from the darkest depths of my soul. Dale whispered, "You shall be forgiven...".
That's when he kicked the back of my head and I fell face first into the disgusting magic tire water. I tried to lift myself out, but Dale was now forcing my head down into the abyss. My sins must have been worse than I'd thought because he held me in there until I'd completely blacked out. When I finally awoke it was midnight and I was lying on my front lawn. My body was wrapped in soaking wet newspapers, and a pair of socks had been placed over my hands.
Everything felt different. I guess you never know how many sins you carry until you've been absolved of them all at once. I began to realize why Dale would live in a place like Doswell. In a way, that town is full of people like me. Confused outsiders, all of us trying to make it through the day in whatever way makes sense to us. I truly believe that those who have been healed by Brumfield have been forgiven in the eyes of the almighty. One day we'll all be in heaven together, and the rest of you fuckers will be eating shit down in Hell!
Edit:
Apparently the Doswell spin machine is in full effect over this one!
Monday, June 8
One fine day!
Saturday was a great day. It started with a trip to the CVS for some lube. I like the warming kind, so I make Phil use it even though it burns his dick hole. I happened to notice an old timer reaching into his back pocket for a prescription. He was unaware that he had dropped two $20 bills. I snapped 'em up and darted into the next isle. I hope he's not on a fixed income, or that old fool will be eating cat food for a week!
It felt like luck was on my side, so I stopped at the off-track betting office. $40 dollars on "Daddy's Rash" to win. Of course that piece of shit came in last. I swear to God, if I ever see that horse I'm going to break all four of his legs. You know I'll do it too! I've done worse, and for a lot less! My only consolation was that the money I lost wasn't mine to begin with.
After that I took the kids to visit mother in the nursing home. It's been so long since we left her there that I'd forgotten what a dump that place is. Everybody's all drugged up and moaning, and the hallway smells like a boiled colostomy bag. We stayed to eat with her but the food sucked. I'm sorry, but raisins with shredded carrots is not a dessert! Mom was so happy to see us that she cried the entire time.
On the way home I decided to get us something good as a treat. I pulled into the Wendy's and waited in a really long line at the drive-thru. I ordered three things of chicken nuggets, and paid for them at the first window. At the second window they hand me these two giant bags. I pulled around the building and discover that they'd given us enough food for like 8 people! Me and the kids filled up. Then we found a quiet highway overpass and took turns tossing chili and hamburger patties onto the cars below.
It felt like luck was on my side, so I stopped at the off-track betting office. $40 dollars on "Daddy's Rash" to win. Of course that piece of shit came in last. I swear to God, if I ever see that horse I'm going to break all four of his legs. You know I'll do it too! I've done worse, and for a lot less! My only consolation was that the money I lost wasn't mine to begin with.
After that I took the kids to visit mother in the nursing home. It's been so long since we left her there that I'd forgotten what a dump that place is. Everybody's all drugged up and moaning, and the hallway smells like a boiled colostomy bag. We stayed to eat with her but the food sucked. I'm sorry, but raisins with shredded carrots is not a dessert! Mom was so happy to see us that she cried the entire time.
On the way home I decided to get us something good as a treat. I pulled into the Wendy's and waited in a really long line at the drive-thru. I ordered three things of chicken nuggets, and paid for them at the first window. At the second window they hand me these two giant bags. I pulled around the building and discover that they'd given us enough food for like 8 people! Me and the kids filled up. Then we found a quiet highway overpass and took turns tossing chili and hamburger patties onto the cars below.
Tuesday, June 2
That little puke!
With over a hundred blog posts, you'd think that I'd have mentioned more than one vomiting experience by now. I'm actually kind of a stranger to the barfcore lifestyle. I only seem to blow chunks under the most extreme of circumstances. That's why I'd almost forgotten about this one gnarly experience that happened back when my son Brandon was just a baby.
It was my day off of work and I'd just finished all my errands. It was time to start relaxing! Since nothing works as well for humans as catnip works for cats, I usually settle for a cold jug of Ice Box brand pre-mixed cocktails. My only complaint about their products is how they make me hungry almost right away. That was especially true on this day, because I was out of cigarettes.
We stopped at Shoney's. For some reason that lukewarm cottage cheese on their salad bar was calling my name! When I got up there the lady stocking the croutons told me to take all the cottage cheese I wanted because she was about to throw it out. I lifted the entire metal buffet tray out of it's spot, carried it to our table, and openly gorged myself like some deranged nursing home patient.
I realized as we were leaving that I hadn't gotten a chance to change Brandon's diaper since that morning, just before I'd put him in his little automatic swinging baby chair. That was a mistake, because riding in that thing always left him with a full, sloppy diaper. I usually had to wipe it off his back afterwards!
So I was tired and wanting to head home, change the baby, and take a rest. But I had promised my daughter that I'd take her to a stupid monster truck show. The goddamn place has a closed roof, so the fumes started getting to me right away. I was also feeling somewhat nervous, because there were just way too many white people in there.
We took our seats and I started preparing baby Brandon for his dinner. I held him to my breast and he began feeding. I used my free hand to muffle his one exposed ear from the loud truck noise. Then a couple vendors came by, so I bought a cotton candy for my daughter and a pack of peanuts for myself. The very first peanut was a bad one, and it left a really disgusting taste in my mouth.
I bummed a cheap cigarette off of the woman next to me. As I took my first drag it made a loud popping sound, which was probably just an irregular clump of chemical additives. It made the smoke taste nasty, which made me choke. The cigarette fell out of my mouth and landed in my lap as I gasped for air.
In doing so I managed to inhale a hearty whiff of Brandon's unchanged diaper. There was no time to prepare. I vomited quick and hard, right in the face of my breastfeeding child. So the next thing you know I'm running through the Richmond Coliseum with a screaming, puke-covered baby, one exposed breast, and a cigarette burn in my Wranglers.
I found the concession window and reached for the napkins. Of course they were that cheap, flimsy kind that break into pieces as you try to remove them from the dispenser. Even when I finally pulled a wad of them out, they weren't absorbing worth a damn. As mortified as I was, I somehow had the presence of mind to stuff Brandon into my oversized purse. Then I carried him out to the van, where we waited for my daughter to find us.
It was my day off of work and I'd just finished all my errands. It was time to start relaxing! Since nothing works as well for humans as catnip works for cats, I usually settle for a cold jug of Ice Box brand pre-mixed cocktails. My only complaint about their products is how they make me hungry almost right away. That was especially true on this day, because I was out of cigarettes.
We stopped at Shoney's. For some reason that lukewarm cottage cheese on their salad bar was calling my name! When I got up there the lady stocking the croutons told me to take all the cottage cheese I wanted because she was about to throw it out. I lifted the entire metal buffet tray out of it's spot, carried it to our table, and openly gorged myself like some deranged nursing home patient.
I realized as we were leaving that I hadn't gotten a chance to change Brandon's diaper since that morning, just before I'd put him in his little automatic swinging baby chair. That was a mistake, because riding in that thing always left him with a full, sloppy diaper. I usually had to wipe it off his back afterwards!
So I was tired and wanting to head home, change the baby, and take a rest. But I had promised my daughter that I'd take her to a stupid monster truck show. The goddamn place has a closed roof, so the fumes started getting to me right away. I was also feeling somewhat nervous, because there were just way too many white people in there.
We took our seats and I started preparing baby Brandon for his dinner. I held him to my breast and he began feeding. I used my free hand to muffle his one exposed ear from the loud truck noise. Then a couple vendors came by, so I bought a cotton candy for my daughter and a pack of peanuts for myself. The very first peanut was a bad one, and it left a really disgusting taste in my mouth.
I bummed a cheap cigarette off of the woman next to me. As I took my first drag it made a loud popping sound, which was probably just an irregular clump of chemical additives. It made the smoke taste nasty, which made me choke. The cigarette fell out of my mouth and landed in my lap as I gasped for air.
In doing so I managed to inhale a hearty whiff of Brandon's unchanged diaper. There was no time to prepare. I vomited quick and hard, right in the face of my breastfeeding child. So the next thing you know I'm running through the Richmond Coliseum with a screaming, puke-covered baby, one exposed breast, and a cigarette burn in my Wranglers.
I found the concession window and reached for the napkins. Of course they were that cheap, flimsy kind that break into pieces as you try to remove them from the dispenser. Even when I finally pulled a wad of them out, they weren't absorbing worth a damn. As mortified as I was, I somehow had the presence of mind to stuff Brandon into my oversized purse. Then I carried him out to the van, where we waited for my daughter to find us.
Thursday, May 28
Florida babies!
We're down here in our second home, Florida! Once again, we flew into Jacksonville. I have a cousin there, and she's letting us use her old RV. Apparently her ragamuffin kids have been sneaking in there since last summer to relieve themselves, because the toilet was filled the brim with stinky old brown pee.
Using this RV was supposed to be a money-saving measure, but I'm not sure that it's been worth it. Aside from getting about one mile to the gallon, the goddamn thing has no air conditioning, all the seats are covered in leather-textured vinyl. This is unbearable because it's hot as hell down here right now. Also, when the engine is running the whole inside smells like exhaust.
I didn't realize how nauseating this could be until we ate our first meal at a questionable roadside dairy and clam bar. The kids were moaning about their stomachs all the way to Orlando. That's right! I took these spoiled little shits to Disney World! Disney's Blizzard Beach water park, to be exact. It wasn't easy, because it was Memorial Day weekend, so I had to take a special route to avoid all the DUI roadblocks.
Blizzard Beach is a winter themed water park, and there's a little something there for everyone. My favorite part of any water park is the lazy river. The #1 rule for this attraction is that nobody with diarrhea is allowed in the water. I decided to go ahead and get in anyway, because it's not like I'm ever going to see any of these people ever again! That's pretty much my philosophy for everything when I'm away from home.
The food they were selling at the park was decent looking and reasonably priced, but it adds up with three kids. So for lunch they shared a king-sized pack of Reese's cups that were melted from being in my purse all day. They loved it! They walked around all afternoon with chocolate smeared all over their mouths. Talk about shit eating grins!
By two o'clock the sun was really beating down. The ground was so hot that it was burning all our feet. But on the bright side, it's still a water park, so it's easy to cool down, and the kids never whine about having to pee. Phil doesn't know how to swim, so he stayed out of the water. Within an hour the heat had him sweating like pig. The body powder he uses to keep cool had turned to a pasty batter, which was caked into his curly body hairs.
Of course my stupid kids all got sunburned, so they had a blast slapping each other in the RV on the way out of the park. Then they fell asleep. That's when we took the opportunity to ditch them with the RV in a souvenir shop parking lot (with a stick of salted butter to treat their sunburns with). Phil and I took a shuttle to Downtown Disney. It was raining all evening, and I didn't wear a bra, so some folks really got an eye full!
We've decided to finish up our week in beautiful Siesta Key, which was recently rated the #2 beach in America. The kids are having fun throwing shells at pelicans and playing catch with the turtle eggs. It's cool how the state puts little flags on the nests so the kids have less trouble finding them. I think that recent shark attack in Clearwater ruined the joke I had planned, because people didn't appreciate it when I yelled out, "SHARK!" at the sight of a few dolphins.
P.S. I realize now that I should have taken the easy route!
Using this RV was supposed to be a money-saving measure, but I'm not sure that it's been worth it. Aside from getting about one mile to the gallon, the goddamn thing has no air conditioning, all the seats are covered in leather-textured vinyl. This is unbearable because it's hot as hell down here right now. Also, when the engine is running the whole inside smells like exhaust.
I didn't realize how nauseating this could be until we ate our first meal at a questionable roadside dairy and clam bar. The kids were moaning about their stomachs all the way to Orlando. That's right! I took these spoiled little shits to Disney World! Disney's Blizzard Beach water park, to be exact. It wasn't easy, because it was Memorial Day weekend, so I had to take a special route to avoid all the DUI roadblocks.
Blizzard Beach is a winter themed water park, and there's a little something there for everyone. My favorite part of any water park is the lazy river. The #1 rule for this attraction is that nobody with diarrhea is allowed in the water. I decided to go ahead and get in anyway, because it's not like I'm ever going to see any of these people ever again! That's pretty much my philosophy for everything when I'm away from home.
The food they were selling at the park was decent looking and reasonably priced, but it adds up with three kids. So for lunch they shared a king-sized pack of Reese's cups that were melted from being in my purse all day. They loved it! They walked around all afternoon with chocolate smeared all over their mouths. Talk about shit eating grins!
By two o'clock the sun was really beating down. The ground was so hot that it was burning all our feet. But on the bright side, it's still a water park, so it's easy to cool down, and the kids never whine about having to pee. Phil doesn't know how to swim, so he stayed out of the water. Within an hour the heat had him sweating like pig. The body powder he uses to keep cool had turned to a pasty batter, which was caked into his curly body hairs.
Of course my stupid kids all got sunburned, so they had a blast slapping each other in the RV on the way out of the park. Then they fell asleep. That's when we took the opportunity to ditch them with the RV in a souvenir shop parking lot (with a stick of salted butter to treat their sunburns with). Phil and I took a shuttle to Downtown Disney. It was raining all evening, and I didn't wear a bra, so some folks really got an eye full!
We've decided to finish up our week in beautiful Siesta Key, which was recently rated the #2 beach in America. The kids are having fun throwing shells at pelicans and playing catch with the turtle eggs. It's cool how the state puts little flags on the nests so the kids have less trouble finding them. I think that recent shark attack in Clearwater ruined the joke I had planned, because people didn't appreciate it when I yelled out, "SHARK!" at the sight of a few dolphins.
P.S. I realize now that I should have taken the easy route!
Tuesday, May 19
Making his mama proud!
I took my eight year old son Brandon with me to the grocery store last month. He had managed to make some extra money by helping our neighbor drain her foot, so I let him hang around near the toy vending machines while I shopped. Along comes this kid Matt, a porky little outcast who's a year ahead of Brandon in school.
Matt asked Brandon to loan him a quarter. In good faith, Brandon did so. Matt bought a rubbery sticky hand from the vending machine. Then they went outside the store and Matt threw his toy against the front of the building. It somehow got stuck up high where they couldn't reach. Then Matt did the unthinkable. He told Brandon that he would not be paying him back the quarter!
Brandon is at that age where he's learning how to assert himself. It's not about the quarter. Hell, you could throw a quarter at someone and get your money's worth. It's the principle of the thing. So I told him to demand what's his! Our family doesn't take shit! I told him that if Matt won't pony up, go ahead and threaten him.
Brandon usually walks to school with older kids from our block, and they sometimes run into Matt at the last crosswalk. For three days in a row he warned Matt that his older friends would beat him up one day during recess. Brandon didn't really mean it, and Matt laughed it off.
So around dinnertime last night, Matt and his father showed up at our front door. They'd already been around to visit Brandon's older buddies. Apparently his friends didn't get the memo, because they'd beaten the shit out of Matt during recess that morning. His father pulled the back of Matt's shirt up for us so we could see the bruises that covered his back.
Brandon looked shocked. He had never intended for this to happen. Then Matt's father said, "Matt, isn't there something you wanted to say?". Matt looked up at Brandon, stuck out his arm, and opened his palm to reveal a shiny new coin. "Here's your quarter back..." he said weakly. Brandon took it and said thanks and said he was sorry. Both boys looked devastated.
Later that night I found Brandon crying in his room. He felt really guilty about Matt getting hurt. I did my best to reassure him. I said, "I know you feel bad now, honey, but it was for the best. You got your quarter back! You won, and he lost!". After hearing that he smiled. As I left the room I saw him pull the quarter out of his pocket to admire it a little.
Matt asked Brandon to loan him a quarter. In good faith, Brandon did so. Matt bought a rubbery sticky hand from the vending machine. Then they went outside the store and Matt threw his toy against the front of the building. It somehow got stuck up high where they couldn't reach. Then Matt did the unthinkable. He told Brandon that he would not be paying him back the quarter!
Brandon is at that age where he's learning how to assert himself. It's not about the quarter. Hell, you could throw a quarter at someone and get your money's worth. It's the principle of the thing. So I told him to demand what's his! Our family doesn't take shit! I told him that if Matt won't pony up, go ahead and threaten him.
Brandon usually walks to school with older kids from our block, and they sometimes run into Matt at the last crosswalk. For three days in a row he warned Matt that his older friends would beat him up one day during recess. Brandon didn't really mean it, and Matt laughed it off.
So around dinnertime last night, Matt and his father showed up at our front door. They'd already been around to visit Brandon's older buddies. Apparently his friends didn't get the memo, because they'd beaten the shit out of Matt during recess that morning. His father pulled the back of Matt's shirt up for us so we could see the bruises that covered his back.
Brandon looked shocked. He had never intended for this to happen. Then Matt's father said, "Matt, isn't there something you wanted to say?". Matt looked up at Brandon, stuck out his arm, and opened his palm to reveal a shiny new coin. "Here's your quarter back..." he said weakly. Brandon took it and said thanks and said he was sorry. Both boys looked devastated.
Later that night I found Brandon crying in his room. He felt really guilty about Matt getting hurt. I did my best to reassure him. I said, "I know you feel bad now, honey, but it was for the best. You got your quarter back! You won, and he lost!". After hearing that he smiled. As I left the room I saw him pull the quarter out of his pocket to admire it a little.
Tuesday, May 12
Theme parks touch our lives!
The house feels hot and itchy. The dog is shedding like he's got radiation poisoning. We have to get out! I decided that it was time for our annual trip to the theme park. We're sneaking because last year they kicked us out after my son used a ketchup pump to make a mess out of the handicapped bathroom. I told him that from now on, if he wants to ketchup a bathroom he'll have to stomp on packets!
I stopped off at this one shitty gas station, the type where you usually have to complain about the empty glass cleaner tubs in the service area. But this time the tubs were brimming. I grabbed the squeegee out impulsively and the shit gushed blue cleaner all over the pants and shoes of some man who had been standing there pulling paper towels out of the dispenser. He yelled something.
I realized that I should have waited until he was done before I grabbed that squeegee. Unfortunately I had just finished watching Pulp Fiction while smoking over a pile of my children's freshly laundered clothing. Something about that movie makes me want to act bad ass. I left the station with a wet foot, and the satisfaction that comes from kicking the balls of a angry man who had every right to be mad!
It's fun to visit theme parks, laughing and sharing your own memories with your kids. Mine loved hearing about the time I swiped a mascot costume and stumbled around the entrance fondling the mouths of strangers. There was that hot summer night when I opened a can of potato soup at the top of a roller coaster. Or the morning I shot up heroin and rode the gondola all day in the fetal position
You start to feel old when the rides start kicking your ass. I remember how, in younger days, we'd jab at roller coaster safety equipment with sharpened screwdrivers. Sleazy men would ask for help with their flimsy safety bar while sportin' some major wood. Later those men would sit hunching on a bench near the kiddie rides just leafing through porno mags, and nobody would say nothing!
These newer rides miss the point. I'll have to take my kids to a State Fair if I want them to learn the value of barfing straight back into your own face on a centrifuge ride. Or the delight of luring other kids away from their parents and putting them on terrifying rides. The mystery of finding an out-of-the-way old local fair that will still let you powerwash the crack of your ass with a reverse, bent-over flume ride.
I sometimes wish this place was more like those old fashioned theme parks, with the kind of magic that insipires people walk around with their hand in their lover's back pocket, everybody wearing those small loose shorts that offer occasional peeks of hairy junk. It's an experience so timeless, you'll want to do some poppers, gamble on a round of Skee-ball, and then use a straight razor to teach preteens some manners.
I stopped off at this one shitty gas station, the type where you usually have to complain about the empty glass cleaner tubs in the service area. But this time the tubs were brimming. I grabbed the squeegee out impulsively and the shit gushed blue cleaner all over the pants and shoes of some man who had been standing there pulling paper towels out of the dispenser. He yelled something.
I realized that I should have waited until he was done before I grabbed that squeegee. Unfortunately I had just finished watching Pulp Fiction while smoking over a pile of my children's freshly laundered clothing. Something about that movie makes me want to act bad ass. I left the station with a wet foot, and the satisfaction that comes from kicking the balls of a angry man who had every right to be mad!
It's fun to visit theme parks, laughing and sharing your own memories with your kids. Mine loved hearing about the time I swiped a mascot costume and stumbled around the entrance fondling the mouths of strangers. There was that hot summer night when I opened a can of potato soup at the top of a roller coaster. Or the morning I shot up heroin and rode the gondola all day in the fetal position
You start to feel old when the rides start kicking your ass. I remember how, in younger days, we'd jab at roller coaster safety equipment with sharpened screwdrivers. Sleazy men would ask for help with their flimsy safety bar while sportin' some major wood. Later those men would sit hunching on a bench near the kiddie rides just leafing through porno mags, and nobody would say nothing!
These newer rides miss the point. I'll have to take my kids to a State Fair if I want them to learn the value of barfing straight back into your own face on a centrifuge ride. Or the delight of luring other kids away from their parents and putting them on terrifying rides. The mystery of finding an out-of-the-way old local fair that will still let you powerwash the crack of your ass with a reverse, bent-over flume ride.
I sometimes wish this place was more like those old fashioned theme parks, with the kind of magic that insipires people walk around with their hand in their lover's back pocket, everybody wearing those small loose shorts that offer occasional peeks of hairy junk. It's an experience so timeless, you'll want to do some poppers, gamble on a round of Skee-ball, and then use a straight razor to teach preteens some manners.
Friday, May 8
Too much stress!
I had a big presentation in front of the CEO on Wednesday afternoon. My knock-off Wonder Bra was sopping with flop sweat. At 3:30 pm, during the middle of a demonstration, I remembered that I'd never dropped off the baby, and he'd been outside in his car seat since lunch! I couldn't get outside to check on him for another 45 minutes!
I decided to get my head straight by taking a personal day on Thursday. I got up extra early for my favorite activity: sitting in the back of a courthouse watching poor people get their lives ruined. Then I drove home to get high. The funniest thing about huffing freon is how I'm getting high for free while my neighbors are sweating their asses off all night!
I let the kids skip school and I drove them to the mall. I told them before we went in that if they get lost inside the mall they'll be abducted and left headless in a canal like John Walsh's son. They were freaked out. We stopped at the food court to feed the baby. I hate the way people stare, but my baby won't eat ripe bananas until I smash them up between my breasts.
As I cleaned up from the feeding I was paged by mall security. They caught my son jamming his own shoelaces into the base of a moving escalator. I explained that the kids are still upset about Easter because all they received was a woman's hat full of low fat Pop-tarts. That's when a big back pimple broke open and started soaking through my white blouse.
After a day like that I'm actually happy to be back at work. Before I get home I'm going to stop off at Dominic's to eat a steak sub the size of a neck pillow. We are out of clean dishes at home, so the children's dinner will be cooked in and served from an old electric foot bath. Anyone who complains is in time out.
I decided to get my head straight by taking a personal day on Thursday. I got up extra early for my favorite activity: sitting in the back of a courthouse watching poor people get their lives ruined. Then I drove home to get high. The funniest thing about huffing freon is how I'm getting high for free while my neighbors are sweating their asses off all night!
I let the kids skip school and I drove them to the mall. I told them before we went in that if they get lost inside the mall they'll be abducted and left headless in a canal like John Walsh's son. They were freaked out. We stopped at the food court to feed the baby. I hate the way people stare, but my baby won't eat ripe bananas until I smash them up between my breasts.
As I cleaned up from the feeding I was paged by mall security. They caught my son jamming his own shoelaces into the base of a moving escalator. I explained that the kids are still upset about Easter because all they received was a woman's hat full of low fat Pop-tarts. That's when a big back pimple broke open and started soaking through my white blouse.
After a day like that I'm actually happy to be back at work. Before I get home I'm going to stop off at Dominic's to eat a steak sub the size of a neck pillow. We are out of clean dishes at home, so the children's dinner will be cooked in and served from an old electric foot bath. Anyone who complains is in time out.
Tuesday, April 28
Pedestrians not wanted!
The good people of the Lakeside area have really got some balls. For starters, we have more rebel flags, black lawn jockeys, and deflated Christmas inflatables than you'd ever want to see in your life. And rather than walk we drive everywhere, thanks to the absence of sidewalks, lack of businesses worth walking to, and the thousands upon thousands of lonely fenced dogs that bark viciously at anything and everything that moves.
I've always felt that pedestrians are a big pain in the ass. Sure, it starts out innocently enough. You watch an episode of "The Biggest Loser" and all of a sudden you're on a kick to walk up and down every inch of your neighborhood. You start to feel better about yourself, you're getting fresh air, and you're showing off that brightly colored iPod for all that it's worth.
What you don't realize is that you're annoying me, with your waving, your heavy breathing, and your constant gawking. Walkers and runners are always the ones who discover dead bodies or become random witnesses (snitches) to domestic crimes. I think I speak for all of us when I say that we don't need or want you nosey motherfuckers coming around here. If you don't live on my block, you don't need to be walking down it, period!
Another thing that bothers me is how pedestrians always demand right of way, even though they don't deserve it. If you're walking then you're obviously not in that big of a rush. I'm not driving my car because I'm trying to get heart smart. I've got somewhere to be, dipshit, and fast! If you want to walk so bad then maybe you should drive to a designated area, like a mall or a running circle.
Luckily we homeowners still have one tool at our disposal: our dogs. Take my rottweiler, Muffin. He's somewhat of a typical Lakeside dog: angry, stupid, and largely neglected. He got into some trouble in our old neighborhood, so this new home has been the first chance I've had in months to expose him to the public eye. Now he's got a nice little backyard to work with, and there's nothing he likes more than defending it against anyone within earshot.
Having all these dogs around the neighborhood really cuts down on the pedestrian menace. Nobody's making it down a single block without passing through a gauntlet of loud accusing barks. It may seem like a nuisance to some, but I feel we have a right to protect our property, even if that means making the fence vulnerable enough to allow a few dogs to break free every now and then.
So please, folks, take the hint. When I look out my window I'd better not catch sight of you power walking by in your sweat wicking shorts, checking your pulse and chatting with your chubby life partner about the curb appeal of each home you pass. If you fail to heed this warning then don't be too surprised when one of Lakeside's many massive, beligerent dogs appears out of nowhere to chew a prize-winning hunk of flesh from your fat ass.
_
I've always felt that pedestrians are a big pain in the ass. Sure, it starts out innocently enough. You watch an episode of "The Biggest Loser" and all of a sudden you're on a kick to walk up and down every inch of your neighborhood. You start to feel better about yourself, you're getting fresh air, and you're showing off that brightly colored iPod for all that it's worth.
What you don't realize is that you're annoying me, with your waving, your heavy breathing, and your constant gawking. Walkers and runners are always the ones who discover dead bodies or become random witnesses (snitches) to domestic crimes. I think I speak for all of us when I say that we don't need or want you nosey motherfuckers coming around here. If you don't live on my block, you don't need to be walking down it, period!
Another thing that bothers me is how pedestrians always demand right of way, even though they don't deserve it. If you're walking then you're obviously not in that big of a rush. I'm not driving my car because I'm trying to get heart smart. I've got somewhere to be, dipshit, and fast! If you want to walk so bad then maybe you should drive to a designated area, like a mall or a running circle.
Luckily we homeowners still have one tool at our disposal: our dogs. Take my rottweiler, Muffin. He's somewhat of a typical Lakeside dog: angry, stupid, and largely neglected. He got into some trouble in our old neighborhood, so this new home has been the first chance I've had in months to expose him to the public eye. Now he's got a nice little backyard to work with, and there's nothing he likes more than defending it against anyone within earshot.
Having all these dogs around the neighborhood really cuts down on the pedestrian menace. Nobody's making it down a single block without passing through a gauntlet of loud accusing barks. It may seem like a nuisance to some, but I feel we have a right to protect our property, even if that means making the fence vulnerable enough to allow a few dogs to break free every now and then.
So please, folks, take the hint. When I look out my window I'd better not catch sight of you power walking by in your sweat wicking shorts, checking your pulse and chatting with your chubby life partner about the curb appeal of each home you pass. If you fail to heed this warning then don't be too surprised when one of Lakeside's many massive, beligerent dogs appears out of nowhere to chew a prize-winning hunk of flesh from your fat ass.
_
Friday, April 17
Revenge is a dish best served bitter!
I'm happily remarried to Phil, but I can't deny that i still care about Kevin, my ex-husband. That's why it's been difficult lately, dealing with him and the court system. He was finally granted visitation with the kids, which is actually kind of nice, because I get more time to live my life. Since that happened, Kevin and I have tried to give each other as much space as possible to avoid any unnecessary awkward moments.
That was until I discovered that he's been dating a woman that he works with, and I suspect that she may be the whore he was cheating on me with! I've been asking around about this bitch, and she's got this reputation for being a real sweetheart, which tells me that she's a phony, and probably a kiss ass too. I'm sorry, but there is no way in hell I'm going to let a woman like that become the stepmother of my children!
The only solution is to use my cunning intellect and my kids to break them up. I've explained to my kids that she's some kid of succubus, and that she'll eventually try to kill me and Phil, and have their little asses shipped off to a military school. During their last visit I got them to steal me a key to the house. I went over there during work the other day and poured a whole bottle of Nair into his shampoo bottle. I hope she likes bald men!
That got me thinking of other ideas. I told the kids borrow a few other things from her and Kevin. They took a check from her checkbook, so I wrote it out for $1000, endorsed it in Kevin's handwriting, and deposited it into his bank account. I also ran up $300 in charges at the strip club on her credit card, and had the kids hide the card in Kevin's sock drawer.
Then I had them get me her cell phone number. I had my girlfriends call her, coyly asking for Kevin and then hanging up when she asked who was calling. Kevin's girlfriend is medium sized, so I gave the kids a bag of large bras and small panties from the Goodwill, which they've scattered under Kevin's mattress, and around the seats in her car (which is perfect because they share that car!)
If all this doesn't work I have a few other things I might try. I've got an old boyfriend who works at the court house who'd be willing to place Kevin on the sex offender registry. Or I could get the kids to drug his food, and I'll leave an anonymous tip with his job to get him drug tested and fired. And if all else fails, I'll hide in a parking lot and break her mouth with a wrench.
That was until I discovered that he's been dating a woman that he works with, and I suspect that she may be the whore he was cheating on me with! I've been asking around about this bitch, and she's got this reputation for being a real sweetheart, which tells me that she's a phony, and probably a kiss ass too. I'm sorry, but there is no way in hell I'm going to let a woman like that become the stepmother of my children!
The only solution is to use my cunning intellect and my kids to break them up. I've explained to my kids that she's some kid of succubus, and that she'll eventually try to kill me and Phil, and have their little asses shipped off to a military school. During their last visit I got them to steal me a key to the house. I went over there during work the other day and poured a whole bottle of Nair into his shampoo bottle. I hope she likes bald men!
That got me thinking of other ideas. I told the kids borrow a few other things from her and Kevin. They took a check from her checkbook, so I wrote it out for $1000, endorsed it in Kevin's handwriting, and deposited it into his bank account. I also ran up $300 in charges at the strip club on her credit card, and had the kids hide the card in Kevin's sock drawer.
Then I had them get me her cell phone number. I had my girlfriends call her, coyly asking for Kevin and then hanging up when she asked who was calling. Kevin's girlfriend is medium sized, so I gave the kids a bag of large bras and small panties from the Goodwill, which they've scattered under Kevin's mattress, and around the seats in her car (which is perfect because they share that car!)
If all this doesn't work I have a few other things I might try. I've got an old boyfriend who works at the court house who'd be willing to place Kevin on the sex offender registry. Or I could get the kids to drug his food, and I'll leave an anonymous tip with his job to get him drug tested and fired. And if all else fails, I'll hide in a parking lot and break her mouth with a wrench.
Thursday, April 16
25 Diseases you might survive
1.Stiff neck from sleeping in some backwards ass position
2.Chicken pox the size of jumbo pepperoni slices
3.Throat so sore that it gives you a burning earache
4.Leg pain while you're trying to fall asleep
5.Nose that's running and clogged simultaneously
6.Black sock foot stench plague
7.Morning after stranger sex pee sting
8.Big fat rash from a soiled hotel room comforter
9.Dental work that includes a needle jab to your gumline
10.Refried bean gas from Planet F
11.World class foot cramp in the middle of the night
12.Scorching skin lesions from a jagged shaving razor
13.Mononucleosis sympathy pains
14.Complete taste bud removal from scalding hot pizza
15.Extreme disorientation after a massive turkey dinner
16.Five sneezes in a row, triggering a total brain reboot
17.Bee sting in between your toes while wearing sandals
18.Cat scratch fever from some scummy broad at a Bon Jovi show
19.Cardboard paper cut that removes your entire left hand
20.Body rejecting a sip of bad milk like it was a baboon heart
21.Lips so dry they crack and bleed at the corners of your mouth
22.Jaundice-colored hands from rolling pennies all day
23.Unintentional elbow jab to the titty
24.Warts that serve no purpose other than to make you self-conscious
25.Mysteriously sore balls from out of nowhere
2.Chicken pox the size of jumbo pepperoni slices
3.Throat so sore that it gives you a burning earache
4.Leg pain while you're trying to fall asleep
5.Nose that's running and clogged simultaneously
6.Black sock foot stench plague
7.Morning after stranger sex pee sting
8.Big fat rash from a soiled hotel room comforter
9.Dental work that includes a needle jab to your gumline
10.Refried bean gas from Planet F
11.World class foot cramp in the middle of the night
12.Scorching skin lesions from a jagged shaving razor
13.Mononucleosis sympathy pains
14.Complete taste bud removal from scalding hot pizza
15.Extreme disorientation after a massive turkey dinner
16.Five sneezes in a row, triggering a total brain reboot
17.Bee sting in between your toes while wearing sandals
18.Cat scratch fever from some scummy broad at a Bon Jovi show
19.Cardboard paper cut that removes your entire left hand
20.Body rejecting a sip of bad milk like it was a baboon heart
21.Lips so dry they crack and bleed at the corners of your mouth
22.Jaundice-colored hands from rolling pennies all day
23.Unintentional elbow jab to the titty
24.Warts that serve no purpose other than to make you self-conscious
25.Mysteriously sore balls from out of nowhere
Monday, April 13
Western Henrico must secede!
As you know, I recently moved from the City of Richmond to the Lakeside neighborhood of Henrico County. Richmond was actually part of Henrico until 1871. Then Richmond became it's own thing, and Henrico became this oddly shaped wrap-around county we see today, which borders the city mostly on the Northwest and East sides.
The problem is that Western Henrico, where I live, is awesome. It's full of jobs and nice malls and pretty houses. Eastern Henrico, on the other hand, is full of rabid raccoons, dumpy apartment complexes, schwag weed, and broke ass no-account fools. That's why I propose that the Western part of Henrico County should secede from the Eastern part. Here's a map so you can see what I'm talking about:
As you can see, we'll need some new names. Western Henrico County is a premium area, and "Henrico County" is a premium name, so we should probably keep that name and let the Eastern folks come up with something new for themselves. The Eastern part of the county may actually have a better historical claim to the "Henrico" name, but we've got better lawyers, so it shouldn't be a problem.
Currently the only worthwhile things in Eastern Henrico are the Richmond International Airport and the Richmond International Raceway. Luckily our smaller, more efficient new Henrico County will have the money to build a new top of the line airport for the Richmond area. We probably won't build a new raceway, because it's loud and a pain in the ass, but maybe we can build a pro football arena instead.
I know a lot of you must be excited about this concept, and I want you to know that I'm interested in hearing your thoughts and feelings. I also need help coming up with a Glenn Beck style grassroots campaign, full of whiney rhetoric and tacky protests in the streets. So let's get things started by forwarding this post to your local friends and family. Together we'll help Henrico County come into it's own!
The problem is that Western Henrico, where I live, is awesome. It's full of jobs and nice malls and pretty houses. Eastern Henrico, on the other hand, is full of rabid raccoons, dumpy apartment complexes, schwag weed, and broke ass no-account fools. That's why I propose that the Western part of Henrico County should secede from the Eastern part. Here's a map so you can see what I'm talking about:
[click for larger image]
As you can see, we'll need some new names. Western Henrico County is a premium area, and "Henrico County" is a premium name, so we should probably keep that name and let the Eastern folks come up with something new for themselves. The Eastern part of the county may actually have a better historical claim to the "Henrico" name, but we've got better lawyers, so it shouldn't be a problem.
Currently the only worthwhile things in Eastern Henrico are the Richmond International Airport and the Richmond International Raceway. Luckily our smaller, more efficient new Henrico County will have the money to build a new top of the line airport for the Richmond area. We probably won't build a new raceway, because it's loud and a pain in the ass, but maybe we can build a pro football arena instead.
I know a lot of you must be excited about this concept, and I want you to know that I'm interested in hearing your thoughts and feelings. I also need help coming up with a Glenn Beck style grassroots campaign, full of whiney rhetoric and tacky protests in the streets. So let's get things started by forwarding this post to your local friends and family. Together we'll help Henrico County come into it's own!
Thursday, April 9
Parenting ain't easy!
I've gotten dozens of angry comments from you non-parents who think raising kids is so simple. I can understand why it would seem that way from the outside. I just wish you could spend this week in my shoes. I've taken off work because my kids are on Spring break (somebody has to watch their asses!). The worst part is that we're stuck at home together. I was going to take them somewhere, until I remembered last year.
I had taken them all to the King's Dominion amusement park for some fun and rides. Little Jailen, who was two at the time, started whining after only three hours. Then she got all dehydrated and blacked out. It pretty much ruined the day for everyone. I reminded her about that this week, and told her that she's the reason we weren't going anywhere this summer.
On Monday we all went to the grocery store. I made the mistake of taking them through the checkout with me. As I should have guessed, they totally flipped out over the candy rack. I told them "no" and they started throwing a group tantrum. So I tossed a candy bar onto the belt and said, "Fine!". But once I got them strapped into the car I opened the candy wrapper and ate the whole damn thing right in front of them. Tough love never tasted so good!
On Tuesday I screamed at them to either play inside or out. Then I put baby O.J. in the tub with a mouthful of Bubble tape and headed upstairs to the computer. After a while little Jailen started banging on my bedroom door, and I yelled at her for being inside. She kept banging, so I swung the door open, and she told me that Brandon had fallen off his bike. That idiot had managed to dislocate his shoulder, and had to drag himself home all the way from the cul-de-sac. I told them not to play so far down the street!
On Wednesday my pregnant 15 year old daughter decided to run away. We've been fighting like cats and dogs lately, so I'm not sure that I even want her to come back. Then I think that she's probably hiding out in some unwed mother's shelter getting all kinds of bad advice from god knows who. Eventually she'll realize that she needs me to help guide her through the realities of pregnancy and motherhood.
So it's Thursday now, and I'm pretty much at my wit's end. I just had to figure something out. The thing is, I never hit my kids. A good parent knows that it's better to outsmart them. They wouldn't ever eat their vegetables until I told them that broccoli helps you fart. So this morning I told them that the wooden spoon (which I use for spaghetti sauce) is stained red because I'd beaten my first child to death for misbehaving. It seems to be working so far!
I had taken them all to the King's Dominion amusement park for some fun and rides. Little Jailen, who was two at the time, started whining after only three hours. Then she got all dehydrated and blacked out. It pretty much ruined the day for everyone. I reminded her about that this week, and told her that she's the reason we weren't going anywhere this summer.
On Monday we all went to the grocery store. I made the mistake of taking them through the checkout with me. As I should have guessed, they totally flipped out over the candy rack. I told them "no" and they started throwing a group tantrum. So I tossed a candy bar onto the belt and said, "Fine!". But once I got them strapped into the car I opened the candy wrapper and ate the whole damn thing right in front of them. Tough love never tasted so good!
On Tuesday I screamed at them to either play inside or out. Then I put baby O.J. in the tub with a mouthful of Bubble tape and headed upstairs to the computer. After a while little Jailen started banging on my bedroom door, and I yelled at her for being inside. She kept banging, so I swung the door open, and she told me that Brandon had fallen off his bike. That idiot had managed to dislocate his shoulder, and had to drag himself home all the way from the cul-de-sac. I told them not to play so far down the street!
On Wednesday my pregnant 15 year old daughter decided to run away. We've been fighting like cats and dogs lately, so I'm not sure that I even want her to come back. Then I think that she's probably hiding out in some unwed mother's shelter getting all kinds of bad advice from god knows who. Eventually she'll realize that she needs me to help guide her through the realities of pregnancy and motherhood.
So it's Thursday now, and I'm pretty much at my wit's end. I just had to figure something out. The thing is, I never hit my kids. A good parent knows that it's better to outsmart them. They wouldn't ever eat their vegetables until I told them that broccoli helps you fart. So this morning I told them that the wooden spoon (which I use for spaghetti sauce) is stained red because I'd beaten my first child to death for misbehaving. It seems to be working so far!
Friday, April 3
Keep marijuana illegal!
As a married woman and mother of four, you'd probably expect me to support the current state of marijuana laws. It may surprise you to learn that I'm a regular marijuana smoker. Knowing that, you may expect me to be pro-legalization. Once again, you'd be wrong. I'm firmly against the legalization of marijuana. But unlike most folks on my side of the argument, I have solid reasons for taking this stance.
For one thing, my cousins are prison guards. Their job security depends on constant prison overcrowding. They also make good money supplying marijuana to certain prisoners. And it's understood that most drug convicts make excellent prison bitches for the truly violent offenders. Simply put, legalization would put our nation's fragile prison economy at risk!
That's just the start. Think about how illegal drugs give our law enforcement a valuable tool in arresting minorities when need be. Additionally, legalizing marijuana would strip our state police departments of their ability to seize and auction off the homes and cars of anyone carrying more than a half ounce of marijuana. You think taxes on decriminalized marijuana could make up the loss? Think again!
Another drawback of legalization is that everyone who is now drug free will probably start smoking the day it's all legalized. This is particularly troublesome because these newbs will start freaking out. School buses will be crashing left and right, companies will fold under a weight of too many sick days, and folks will stop taking themselves so seriously. That's pretty much what happened before the fall of Rome!
Even if we can look past the threat to our adult population, we must consider the children. Once legally regulated, marijuana will be as hard for kids to buy as alcohol is now. So you've got to wonder about what they'll go for next. Freon huffing? Suppository abuse? Free-based jenkem? By the time we know what the next thing is they'll already be hooked!
Of course our more enterprising young people won't be able to focus on their studies, because that $200 per night profit from dealing drugs will be gone. Rather than just selling a few bags on a Friday night, these once promising young students would be forced to spend 12-16 of their best hours per week in low paying fast food or grocery bagging jobs. Parents can kiss those straight "A" report cards goodbye!
So as you compose that letter to your representatives in congress, begging them to legalize pot, prepare yourself for the bleak future that follows. Today's drug mafia leaders will become tomorrows high-paid consultants for major corporations. They'll be deliberately tainting our marijuana supplies with addictive carcinogens, much the same way tobacco and soft drinks are tainted today. Sure, you're laughing now. You won't be laughing when the blood's flying, and you're screaming!
_
For one thing, my cousins are prison guards. Their job security depends on constant prison overcrowding. They also make good money supplying marijuana to certain prisoners. And it's understood that most drug convicts make excellent prison bitches for the truly violent offenders. Simply put, legalization would put our nation's fragile prison economy at risk!
That's just the start. Think about how illegal drugs give our law enforcement a valuable tool in arresting minorities when need be. Additionally, legalizing marijuana would strip our state police departments of their ability to seize and auction off the homes and cars of anyone carrying more than a half ounce of marijuana. You think taxes on decriminalized marijuana could make up the loss? Think again!
Another drawback of legalization is that everyone who is now drug free will probably start smoking the day it's all legalized. This is particularly troublesome because these newbs will start freaking out. School buses will be crashing left and right, companies will fold under a weight of too many sick days, and folks will stop taking themselves so seriously. That's pretty much what happened before the fall of Rome!
Even if we can look past the threat to our adult population, we must consider the children. Once legally regulated, marijuana will be as hard for kids to buy as alcohol is now. So you've got to wonder about what they'll go for next. Freon huffing? Suppository abuse? Free-based jenkem? By the time we know what the next thing is they'll already be hooked!
Of course our more enterprising young people won't be able to focus on their studies, because that $200 per night profit from dealing drugs will be gone. Rather than just selling a few bags on a Friday night, these once promising young students would be forced to spend 12-16 of their best hours per week in low paying fast food or grocery bagging jobs. Parents can kiss those straight "A" report cards goodbye!
So as you compose that letter to your representatives in congress, begging them to legalize pot, prepare yourself for the bleak future that follows. Today's drug mafia leaders will become tomorrows high-paid consultants for major corporations. They'll be deliberately tainting our marijuana supplies with addictive carcinogens, much the same way tobacco and soft drinks are tainted today. Sure, you're laughing now. You won't be laughing when the blood's flying, and you're screaming!
_
Tuesday, March 31
World's most annoying neighbors!
We've got this young couple living next door to our new house. At first they were really welcoming. But lately they've been bitching about the loud music and about how their newborn is trying to sleep. I don't get it. Why can't that little shit do his sleeping when I'm stuck at work all day?
When I get home from the office I just need to relax. That's why I keep a cooler full of iced Cheladas waiting for me on the back porch. So excuse me if I sprawl out on my lawn chair and get drunk while wearing my rattiest see-thru white bikini top, blasting my Kelly Clarkson CD and singing along. That should be okay to do on my own goddamn property!
I've had a couple of heated altercations with these folks, but lately they haven't said a word to me. Still, I hate them. The last time I saw the guy in his yard I convinced my cousin to spray at him with the garden hose in a flamboyant manner. He went inside and called the cops on us. The cop knew my cousin from high school, so he didn't really give a shit either way. He put it down to a lawn watering mishap.
To make matters worse, the neighbors on the other side of us are old, ornery, and practically deaf. They've been whining to anyone who will listen about our overgrown yard, and how every time their grandkids chase a ball onto our lawn they get poison oak all over their legs and rear ends. They've also been telling people that the little man-made pond in our back yard is nothing more than a breeding pool for mosquito eggs.
The last time those fools knocked on my door was to accuse our newly adopted and unfixed cat "Jager" of sneaking into their doggy door at night and spraying their microfiber sofa with musk. I was so angry about this outright lie that I didn't even bother to tell them about how Jager had gotten into a fight with their dog that morning and somehow managed to pluck one of his eyeballs out.
I'm also hearing rumors about this single dad down the block who's mad at me because I stomped out to the bus stop last Friday and told his son to stop talking to my son. I've had enough problems with my Brandon choosing art and reading over sports and girls. The last thing I need is him becoming buddies with a kid who uses a PBS tote as a book bag.
At least I've made friends with one person on my block. That would be Phyllis, who lives two doors down. She's retired, and likes to sit at the edge of her front yard all day on a cracked white plastic chair and chain smoke little cigars. She's funny as shit. She swears and shakes her fist at cars that aren't even speeding, and she always sexually harasses the UPS man.
When I get home from the office I just need to relax. That's why I keep a cooler full of iced Cheladas waiting for me on the back porch. So excuse me if I sprawl out on my lawn chair and get drunk while wearing my rattiest see-thru white bikini top, blasting my Kelly Clarkson CD and singing along. That should be okay to do on my own goddamn property!
I've had a couple of heated altercations with these folks, but lately they haven't said a word to me. Still, I hate them. The last time I saw the guy in his yard I convinced my cousin to spray at him with the garden hose in a flamboyant manner. He went inside and called the cops on us. The cop knew my cousin from high school, so he didn't really give a shit either way. He put it down to a lawn watering mishap.
To make matters worse, the neighbors on the other side of us are old, ornery, and practically deaf. They've been whining to anyone who will listen about our overgrown yard, and how every time their grandkids chase a ball onto our lawn they get poison oak all over their legs and rear ends. They've also been telling people that the little man-made pond in our back yard is nothing more than a breeding pool for mosquito eggs.
The last time those fools knocked on my door was to accuse our newly adopted and unfixed cat "Jager" of sneaking into their doggy door at night and spraying their microfiber sofa with musk. I was so angry about this outright lie that I didn't even bother to tell them about how Jager had gotten into a fight with their dog that morning and somehow managed to pluck one of his eyeballs out.
I'm also hearing rumors about this single dad down the block who's mad at me because I stomped out to the bus stop last Friday and told his son to stop talking to my son. I've had enough problems with my Brandon choosing art and reading over sports and girls. The last thing I need is him becoming buddies with a kid who uses a PBS tote as a book bag.
At least I've made friends with one person on my block. That would be Phyllis, who lives two doors down. She's retired, and likes to sit at the edge of her front yard all day on a cracked white plastic chair and chain smoke little cigars. She's funny as shit. She swears and shakes her fist at cars that aren't even speeding, and she always sexually harasses the UPS man.
Thursday, March 26
25 things to do when your favorite website is down!
1.Retry the URL 1000 times
2.Get in touch with your weeping
3.Play slap n' tickle with your significant other
4.Flip your SUV on an ice-covered road
5.Floss your ass with your roommate's favorite hoodie
6.Wax the floors and have a one man stocking foot race
7.Slap a couple flame decals onto your '88 Ford Tempo
8.Break out the old Salad Shooter and relive the magic
9.Eat a dozen sticks of chocolate scented lip balm
10.Actually do your job well for once
11.Make sure that your girlfriend has had all her shots
12.Replace that fart-stained pillow on your desk chair
13.Smack your balls between two planks of wood
14.Send your grandfather an experienced dominatrix
15.Force Dr. Phil to drink your hot stinky pee
16.Leave your fine young wife for a bitchy hag with 17 fat kids
17.Deep fry an entire deer for the juiciest venison possible
18.Deliberately ram someone for not making a right on red
19.Eat just one Lay's potato chip, deny yourself another
20.Invent a bike helmet that doesn't make kids look retarded
21.Force your mailman to the ground and tattoo his buttocks
22.Stock your fridge with nothing but Lunchables & Capri Sun
23.Down a few laxatives and shit yourself during an MRI
24.Bring your dog to the vet for a circumcision
25.Wash your fuckin' sheets for once, they're gross
2.Get in touch with your weeping
3.Play slap n' tickle with your significant other
4.Flip your SUV on an ice-covered road
5.Floss your ass with your roommate's favorite hoodie
6.Wax the floors and have a one man stocking foot race
7.Slap a couple flame decals onto your '88 Ford Tempo
8.Break out the old Salad Shooter and relive the magic
9.Eat a dozen sticks of chocolate scented lip balm
10.Actually do your job well for once
11.Make sure that your girlfriend has had all her shots
12.Replace that fart-stained pillow on your desk chair
13.Smack your balls between two planks of wood
14.Send your grandfather an experienced dominatrix
15.Force Dr. Phil to drink your hot stinky pee
16.Leave your fine young wife for a bitchy hag with 17 fat kids
17.Deep fry an entire deer for the juiciest venison possible
18.Deliberately ram someone for not making a right on red
19.Eat just one Lay's potato chip, deny yourself another
20.Invent a bike helmet that doesn't make kids look retarded
21.Force your mailman to the ground and tattoo his buttocks
22.Stock your fridge with nothing but Lunchables & Capri Sun
23.Down a few laxatives and shit yourself during an MRI
24.Bring your dog to the vet for a circumcision
25.Wash your fuckin' sheets for once, they're gross
Thursday, March 19
For the love of Spring!
It's already feeling like Spring here in Virginia, and it's a beautiful thing. The feeling is taking over as sunlight lifts me from my foggy winter gloom. I've been sticking to my car's leather interior more and more, and I have an excuse to hide my permanent facial squint with a pair of sunglasses.
Signs of life abound. The neighborhood squirrels appear rested, and are up to their usual antics. The dog stinks even when he isn't wet. Birds build their filthy nests and attack passersby. Spiders return from hibernation to exact their revenge. And the Easter Bunny will hop into your room to lay some non-dairy chocolate colored eggs.
The Dogwood trees reveal their tender blossoms. Meter maids have an extra bounce in their step as they screw you out of $40. As if by instinct, migrant workers fly by overhead in that classic "V" shape formation. And folks enjoy early sightings of unfit slobs in cut-off jeans, with their adorable 2-foot long arm pit stains.
The smell of renewal and leftover decay is thick in the air. No more tripping over frozen dog poop on the way to the car. Now you can step in nice warm dog poop with your bare feet! And the noisy vibrations of bass-heavy rap blast obnoxiously from every piece-of-shit Richmond vehicle.
This is the time to plan for upcoming Summertime fun. The kids and I will take our usual trip to the Band-aid encrusted shores of Virginia Beach. On the way home I'll drown out their sunburn complaints by turning up the Tom Petty and lighting a fat spliff. At night our cares will melt away as we're lulled to sleep by the rhythm of the bug zapper.
.
Tuesday, March 17
Blame the teachers!
I'm just a typical parent. I work all day, and I send my children to public school. They call it a free education, but it's not. I'm always being asked to shell out money for lunches, field trips, you name it. It also takes a good amount of effort to get them out the door on time for the bus each morning. So forgive me, but I just can't understand why my kids don't know shit!
Kids these days don't know how to cook, behave in public, clean a wound, take care of their pets, or tie their shoes. They lack motivation and discipline. As soon as they get home they turn on the children's cable TV channels and watch until they get tired enough to go to bed. Just once I'd like to see my kids doing something worthwhile!
Another thing is that my kids aren't very well behaved. Don't schools still teach moral lessons on things like not lying and not hurting animals? If they are then it's not working! My kids lie right to my goddamn face. They throw rocks at chipmunks. And any time I turn my back they either break something or hurt themselves. Why don't they teach them to keep their hands to themselves?
To me, the clearest sign of our failing schools is how my kids sometimes act up. It's obvious to me that they're not getting enough attention from their teachers. They just love to piss me off by climbing all over the furniture and smudging up the walls. Don't they get enough of that all day at school? I wonder!
On top of it all, these teachers still try to pass their jobs off on us parents. They send home sign off sheets for homework and stuff. They guilt us into joining PTA groups, then shut us down when we tell them how to do their jobs. But if you back off and become less involved they'll accuse you of being bad parents. They seem to think we're the only ones to blame for the failures of our children. It just goes to show how out of touch they are.
Kids these days don't know how to cook, behave in public, clean a wound, take care of their pets, or tie their shoes. They lack motivation and discipline. As soon as they get home they turn on the children's cable TV channels and watch until they get tired enough to go to bed. Just once I'd like to see my kids doing something worthwhile!
Another thing is that my kids aren't very well behaved. Don't schools still teach moral lessons on things like not lying and not hurting animals? If they are then it's not working! My kids lie right to my goddamn face. They throw rocks at chipmunks. And any time I turn my back they either break something or hurt themselves. Why don't they teach them to keep their hands to themselves?
To me, the clearest sign of our failing schools is how my kids sometimes act up. It's obvious to me that they're not getting enough attention from their teachers. They just love to piss me off by climbing all over the furniture and smudging up the walls. Don't they get enough of that all day at school? I wonder!
On top of it all, these teachers still try to pass their jobs off on us parents. They send home sign off sheets for homework and stuff. They guilt us into joining PTA groups, then shut us down when we tell them how to do their jobs. But if you back off and become less involved they'll accuse you of being bad parents. They seem to think we're the only ones to blame for the failures of our children. It just goes to show how out of touch they are.
Friday, March 13
You're too late, fellas!
Phil met my demands, and we've finally been wed in holy matrimony! Most importantly, he bought me one of those big houses I asked for! It's in a small development built within the boundaries of an older neighborhood. I like that because the houses on our block are much nicer than all the dumps around us. Another good thing about living in the Lakeside area is that everyone around here is unattractive, so I won't have to worry about Phil's wandering eyes!
Of course what you really want to hear about is the wedding! It was a lovely, no nonsense affair. We held the wedding and reception in Phil's neighbors backyard. The setting was perfect, other than the neighbor's kid's dirty faces, and the yard strewn with broken toys and shit. Also, Little Caesars did the catering, and it gave everyone constipation and gas. The sky was overcast too, but luckily it didn't rain, because the FunSaver cameras would have been ruined!
Phil was devilishly handsome in his new shirt, still creased with little squares from being fresh out of the pack. My three year old daughter Jailen was the adorable flower girl, dressed in her Halloween Disney princess costume. Muffin, my rottie, was going to be the ring bearer, but he bit my son (again) for trying to tie the little pillow around his collar. We decided instead to let the flower girl handle the ring, and Muffin's job would be to watch little newborn Orenthal James.
My cousin Buck handled the ceremony. That only cost us the small fee to have him ordained over the Internet. Phil's groomsmen were my other two cousins and my son, Brandon. Phil wanted his brother to be best man, but I said no, because I think he thinks he's better than us. My bridesmaids were my best friends, and my teenage daughter was my maid of honor. She wore my old prom dress, which she wouldn't have been able to fit in if she wasn't already so heavy from her pregnancy.
The nuptial vows were short and sweet, but our first married kiss was hot and sloppy. Then everyone hollered and we all got shitfaced. My cousins and my best friends ended up hooking up after dark, and they must have had fun, because they totally clogged Phil's neighbor's hot tub filter. Phil and I snuck out a little early, and spent our honeymoon night screwing like a couple of stray cats in his uncle's RV.
Of course what you really want to hear about is the wedding! It was a lovely, no nonsense affair. We held the wedding and reception in Phil's neighbors backyard. The setting was perfect, other than the neighbor's kid's dirty faces, and the yard strewn with broken toys and shit. Also, Little Caesars did the catering, and it gave everyone constipation and gas. The sky was overcast too, but luckily it didn't rain, because the FunSaver cameras would have been ruined!
Phil was devilishly handsome in his new shirt, still creased with little squares from being fresh out of the pack. My three year old daughter Jailen was the adorable flower girl, dressed in her Halloween Disney princess costume. Muffin, my rottie, was going to be the ring bearer, but he bit my son (again) for trying to tie the little pillow around his collar. We decided instead to let the flower girl handle the ring, and Muffin's job would be to watch little newborn Orenthal James.
My cousin Buck handled the ceremony. That only cost us the small fee to have him ordained over the Internet. Phil's groomsmen were my other two cousins and my son, Brandon. Phil wanted his brother to be best man, but I said no, because I think he thinks he's better than us. My bridesmaids were my best friends, and my teenage daughter was my maid of honor. She wore my old prom dress, which she wouldn't have been able to fit in if she wasn't already so heavy from her pregnancy.
The nuptial vows were short and sweet, but our first married kiss was hot and sloppy. Then everyone hollered and we all got shitfaced. My cousins and my best friends ended up hooking up after dark, and they must have had fun, because they totally clogged Phil's neighbor's hot tub filter. Phil and I snuck out a little early, and spent our honeymoon night screwing like a couple of stray cats in his uncle's RV.
Tuesday, February 17
I won't tolerate an idle man!
I don't know what it is about the sight of a man doing nothing that just makes my blood boil! I know Phil works hard, and I respect that. But that don't mean he's gotta sit on ass and watch football every Sunday when I've got other things in mind that he could be doing. Of course I realize that Phil needs to relax sometimes. That's what sleep is for!
But in the waking hours he should want to spend every moment helping make a better life for me and my kids. I've tried dropping hints about how the kids' rooms are a mess, the garage is full of my ex-husbands former belongings, and my bathroom is in need of a good cleaning. Plus the wedding is coming up, and Phil hasn't even started going through my address book to send invitations to my friends.
I guess he doesn't get the fact that our life together started the minute he proposed. He seems to think that just because we're not living together yet he can still spend hours at his own house, doing his own thing. He already knows that as soon as he buys our new house I'm going to rent out my townhouse, but he hasn't even bothered to post it on Craigslist for me!
I can't wait until we're living in a nice planned development, and I've got Phil under my thumb where he belongs. All doubt will be removed because I'll be able to plan his day for him, and adjust the schedule thoughout the day. He won't have to worry about pissing me off any more, because I'll make sure that he's always doing the right thing. Then we'll both be happy!
But in the waking hours he should want to spend every moment helping make a better life for me and my kids. I've tried dropping hints about how the kids' rooms are a mess, the garage is full of my ex-husbands former belongings, and my bathroom is in need of a good cleaning. Plus the wedding is coming up, and Phil hasn't even started going through my address book to send invitations to my friends.
I guess he doesn't get the fact that our life together started the minute he proposed. He seems to think that just because we're not living together yet he can still spend hours at his own house, doing his own thing. He already knows that as soon as he buys our new house I'm going to rent out my townhouse, but he hasn't even bothered to post it on Craigslist for me!
I can't wait until we're living in a nice planned development, and I've got Phil under my thumb where he belongs. All doubt will be removed because I'll be able to plan his day for him, and adjust the schedule thoughout the day. He won't have to worry about pissing me off any more, because I'll make sure that he's always doing the right thing. Then we'll both be happy!
Friday, February 13
America must return to greatness!
It's time, folks. It's time to roll up our sleeves, slip on our stretchy "USA" sweat wristbands, and get back to work on this little project we call America! It's time to clean all that dog snot off our cars' rear passenger windows. Define telemarketing as a form of terrorism. And lock the kids out of the house for the entire summer (If those brats get thirsty they can drink from the hose!).
We gotta take bold steps, like turn our backs on creamed corn, and anything equally as yucky. Rename "French fries" as "Early stroke fries". Legalize THC to maximize our paranoia level. Wear a thong to church to be closer to God. And deliberately mess with Texas, after having been repeatedly warned.
It's time to develop a genre of gay rap music. Help the homeless, or admit that we can't, and execute them. Win the race to develop the world's first scabies-proof mattress. Boycott unentertaining telethons right out of existence. And outfit our soldiers with huge, intimidating scissor hands!
As one people, with one common goal, we must yank the tick of inequality from Lady Liberty's greasy, matted fur. Disassemble all the SUVs, and turn them into gas/electric mopeds. Make poolside horse-play a felony. Capture Bill O'Reilly alive, and seal him inside of an unventilated see-through coffin.
Then we're gonna have a Pabst. And it's gonna be good.
Friday, February 6
Some guys can't take a compliment!
Our office has been really backed up on new invoices lately, so they gave me the opportunity to hire a temp. After sending us a couple of losers, the agency finally sent me someone I thought I could work with. He's a nice young married man, 22 years old, and in fantastic shape. Yes, I'm engaged right now, but that don't mean that I can't look. I ain't dead yet, folks!
He's a shy kid, so I've tried to make him feel comfortable by just being myself. I figured a few dirty jokes would break him out of his shyness. Then I tried boosting his confidence a bit more by patting him on the back or caressing his neck when he does a good job. I even told him that I thought he had a cute butt! Yet after all this he's just as shy as ever!
Then I thought I could get him out of his box by teasing him a little. I asked him about what kinds of things he liked to do to his wife. He told me that his wife was pregnant, and I offered a fun response about how pregnancy could have been avoided. I also left a silly photoshop on his desk of he and I having dirty sex, but he just threw it away without even saying anything!
Well I don't know what it is about him, but the more he avoids me, the more I think I like him! I've even resorted to some straight forward flirting! Yesterday, when he came into the lounge for his morning break, I was already in there, stirring his yogurt cup with my finger. Just as he realized what I was doing I pulled my finger out, put it in my mouth, and sucked the yogurt off. I've never seen a man blush so red!
Apparently that was it for him. He went to my director and told her that he didn't appreciate my behavior. The director and I have actually made friends over the last few months, so she wasn't hearing it. She told him she'd talk to me, and to go back to his desk. Then she called me in and told me to fire him if he's a problem. Since he's a temp it's no problem sending him away. Maybe I'll be generous and offer him an opportunity to save his job.
_
He's a shy kid, so I've tried to make him feel comfortable by just being myself. I figured a few dirty jokes would break him out of his shyness. Then I tried boosting his confidence a bit more by patting him on the back or caressing his neck when he does a good job. I even told him that I thought he had a cute butt! Yet after all this he's just as shy as ever!
Then I thought I could get him out of his box by teasing him a little. I asked him about what kinds of things he liked to do to his wife. He told me that his wife was pregnant, and I offered a fun response about how pregnancy could have been avoided. I also left a silly photoshop on his desk of he and I having dirty sex, but he just threw it away without even saying anything!
Well I don't know what it is about him, but the more he avoids me, the more I think I like him! I've even resorted to some straight forward flirting! Yesterday, when he came into the lounge for his morning break, I was already in there, stirring his yogurt cup with my finger. Just as he realized what I was doing I pulled my finger out, put it in my mouth, and sucked the yogurt off. I've never seen a man blush so red!
Apparently that was it for him. He went to my director and told her that he didn't appreciate my behavior. The director and I have actually made friends over the last few months, so she wasn't hearing it. She told him she'd talk to me, and to go back to his desk. Then she called me in and told me to fire him if he's a problem. Since he's a temp it's no problem sending him away. Maybe I'll be generous and offer him an opportunity to save his job.
_
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