Rude Asshole Shopper

After work, I wandered through the housewares section of Kohl's just before Christmas. As I am intently looking at a deep fryer (yeah, I KNOW my ass is the size of Kansas! STFU already!), I hear this obnoxious voice YELLING at me.

"How much are these vacuums?" bleated the fat man in the plaid coat and earflap-hat.

I looked at him and said, "I don't know," and went back to browsing.

Almost immediately, he sarcastically said, "Well, you'd sell a hell of a lot MORE of them if they had PRICES ON THEM!"

Annoyed with his assholity, I replied, "I don't CARE since I DON'T WORK HERE!"

He never even apologized (sheepishly or otherwise) for mistaking me for a sales clerk. I mean, if I see somebody wearing SCRUBS in a store I know I immediately think, "Now THERE goes a SALESPERSON!"

The ONLY fucking similarity was the presence of a NAME TAG which, if he'd even REMOTELY glanced at it, said "RN" and didn't have the KOHL'S name on it.

Does his group home supervisor know that he was out in public unattended??

Dickhead

Monkey Nut's Adventures in Michigan!

Over the holidays, we had a visitor from the U.K., via Arkansas and then Canada and Washington state. After stopping here in Michigan, he will be headed (in order) to Arkansas (different city), Alabama, Pennsylvania, Virginia and then most likely to Arkansas (where he started in the U.S.) and back to the U.K. unless someone else requests a visit!

He seemed innocent enough upon his arrival. He was really quiet and didn't freak out our cats when he showed up.

He couldn't wait to get out of his box when he heard there was snow outside! He gazed curiously at the cold white stuff and was amazed that there was a swimming pool under all of that. He wanted to take a dip, but we convinced him it would be more fun shoveling instead!

After shoveling, we thought Monkey Nut would enjoy some pampering so we took him to get his hair styled. He enjoyed the scalp massage and admired the stylist's work.

He throughly enjoyed the fast pace of a Detroit Pistons basketball game and had lots of fun getting into the spirit!

Later that night, I took him to work with me. I knew he'd have a lot of fun in the maternity ward. Silly boy, he wanted to be treated like all of the other babies. He thought the cribs were pretty comfortable and enjoyed napping, although the screaming babies kept him awake. He hopped onto the scale and we found out that he really WAS the littlest little monkey in the nursery!

How do you keep an active monkey occupied at 2:30am? Why, you let him ride up & down the hall on an IV pole! We had races, but he readily beat us all. He was SO proud! It wasn't so nice that the little shit PEED on me. His wang was MUCH bigger than one would expect from such a lightweight!

He got really comfortable with us during his stay, let his hair down (so to speak) and showed us his WILD side. I had NO idea monkeys could DRINK so much! He snuck into the liquor cabinet, downed a few, and groped a stripper. He passed out cold when he got home.

At that point, I figured I'd better send him along to the next victim, er, HOSTESS before he landed in jail. Funds are a bit tight here and I wasn't sure I could afford paying bail money or damages!

May-we fwiggin kwiss miss

uhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuh <------Elmer Fudd laughter

I'm working a stretch of night shifts so we'll open presents when I get home from work in the morning. The big meal will have to wait until next week when I've had time to sleep and then cook!

In the meantime, enjoy your famblies and be thankful for all that you have. See you in a few days!

Hey, Parking Lot Asshole!

It has come to my attention (and the attention of everyone else who works here), so why don't YOU have a fucking clue, Sherlock?

It is painfully obvious that pulling into a parking space successfully has special challenges for you. "Successfully" would hint at the following:

1. You were able to pull into the space in one or 2 attempts. Max. Any more than that and you should be parking in the out lot all by yourself. Really.

2. Your vehicle didn't touch any part of the vehicles around you as you made your attempts.

3. There is enough space for you to exit your vehicle without ramming your door into the vehicle next to you.

4. There is actually enough space between your vehicle and those around you so that the small midgets might actually be able to ENTER their own clown cars.

5. You park straight.

6. You park between the lines.

7. You park straight AND between the lines. This is not an "either/or" scenario.

All of these bring to mind the ultimate question that we all want answered: If you have such a difficult time pulling INTO a parking space, why the FUCK do you think you have the talent and skills to BACK into a space? Especially during the "gotta run like hell to punch in on time" crunch?

Do your co-workers a favor and either get to work really EARLY or really LATE. Oh, and you might want to practice your parking skills at home. Better yet, practice at the mall all this week and prepare for the beat down you so richly deserve. Asshole.

Oh, and another thing? Are you aware that people can actually see into your car windows? They aren't one way glass. You see us, we see you. And we so totally enjoy watching a grown man eat his boogers and ear wax. S'all I'm sayin'.

For now.

Create Your Own Levels of Hell (well, sort of)

Unfortunately, the creator of this quiz pre-selected those destined for different levels of Hell. You are only able to add ONE of your own personal choices, and you aren't able to delete any of the others. Personally, I would have had the Democrats and Republicans on the same level since I believe that all politicians, once they've achieved their goal of being placed in office, forget why they are SUPPOSED to be there. Oh well.

Parents who bring squalling brats to R-rated movies
Circle I Limbo

Democrats
Circle II Whirling in a Dark & Stormy Wind

Scientologists, General asshats
Circle III Mud, Rain, Cold, Hail & Snow

Republicans
Circle IV Rolling Weights

Uday Hussein, Qusay Hussein
Circle V Stuck in Mud, Mangled

River Styx

George Bush
Circle VI Buried for Eternity

River Phlegyas

Saddam Hussein
Circle VII Burning Sands

Osama bin Laden
Circle IIX Immersed in Excrement

NAMBLA Members, pedophiles & child abusers
Circle IX Frozen in Ice

Design your own hell

If I had any experience in HTML, I would've created my OWN quiz. My choices would have included:

loud cell phone users (we're so interested in what you have to say!)
shitty drivers (out of blinker fluid, severely merging-impaired etc)
rude service providers (Don't like your job? Get another one!)
health care providers lacking compassion
people lacking common sense
mean people
STUPID PEOPLE
selfish people
those with an unearned sense of entitlement (they "deserve" it)
chronic welfare collectors (a way of life for generations)
child abusers & pedophiles
animal abusers
students who can't write, spell or put together a coherent thought
the teachers who PASS them
those using words whose meaning they don't know
people without a sense of humor, those who can't take a joke
asshats who created the culture of "political correctness"
human predators of all types
radio execs deciding it's OK to play Christmas music 24/7 starting 10/31

Disclaimer: this list is in no way complete! Add your thoughts to the list!

To gift or not to gift?

What to do for public servants (not to be confused with PUBIC servants--they deserve LOTS of gifts!) at the holidays?

I probably sort more mail than our mail lady does, since she seems to put it all in our mailbox anyway. Even from houses that are nowhere NEAR ours, their only similarity being the same digits in the house numbers, but totally different subdivisions! Dumb ass.

I have decided if I get magazines with someone else's address, they are MINE. Oh I'll give them back when I'm done reading them. Kinda like the post office delivering my National Enquirer and Globe magazines a week late and well-thumbed through. Peckerheads.

At least I stopped personally delivering the wayward mail when it became an at LEAST twice weekly thing. Now I just circle the address with a Sharpie and stick it back in the mailbox with the flag up.

I particularly love it when she puts a fucking NOTE in my mailbox telling me to SHOVEL so she can drive her mailcar closer to the box. Listen bitch! If you can reach my fucking mailbox to put the NOTE in, you can reach it enough to put the REST of my mail in, mmmmkay?

Here's your Christmas present, Biyatch. Do what you're paid to do, and don't expect me to subsidize your gub-ment job.

Deetsie: an introduction to my eldest child

Deetsie's Car Ride, OR "What NOT to Say in Front of a Toddler"

It has come to my attention that I have unintentionally ignored my 18yo daughter here in my blog. I shall commence to end this slight today. Honey, be careful what you wish for! You just might get it. hehehehe

First, a little history:

"Deetsie" is the blog name I have chosen for her from the slang term my German mother used for "pacifier," Deetsie's most favorite object EVER. Until dating. But never mind that! Deetsie always had it with her. Since she was an exceptionally droolie kid, I always had to have a cloth diaper "Dydee" on my shoulder. These 2 items became the MUST HAVES of this child for a lonnnnng time. Let's just say I never left home without them. Ever.

She is the product of my first marriage to her father, The Donor; the one I insulated after I found out he cheated on me when she was just 10 weeks old (there is a post about that somewhere in my early blog. Read it! It is fucking HILARIOUS.) Needless to say, I filed for divorce when Deetsie was 8 months old. I was almost 28 at the time. I'd been with the Donor for 12 years, 7 of them as his wife.

The Donor is now skinny, his face drawn and haggard. He went completely gray at 46. He deserved it. He is now remarried and has a 6 year old girl, whom I believe is the Antichrist, a fact known to all but her parents. He deserved THAT, too. He has received his just reward.

My husband, Pic, (I hate using the term "current" as it incorrectly implies that there will be another--oh hell to the NO) and I began dating when my daughter was 13 months old. My daughter had only previously been around those with lighter complexions and men without facial hair. Pic had a full beard and jet black hair. He is of German and Mexican descent.

I carried her into the room to introduce them. He smiled at her sweetly and softly said, "Hi Peanut." She stared at him, wide-eyed, and then her face absolutely crumpled as she burst into tears. Thankfully, she rapidly got over this and Pic became her "main man."

Pic is a kid magnet. He is the one you will find at the bottom of a pile of nieces and nephews. He is a big kid at heart and I love him dearly. I also love how he has so totally loved Deetsie as if she were his own from the very beginning. Hell, she IS. He is 12 years older than I. He was also MY babysitter when I was 4 years old. That will be another blog post :)

When Pic & I had just started dating, Deetsie became very sick. She had an awful upper respiratory infection that caused her to only be able to breathe in an upright position. She was just this side of needing to be hospitalized, according to her pediatrician. As a single mom with a full-time job, I was completely exhausted from my lack of sleep with this round of illness.

Pic had a few days off from his job. He offered to stay in my home and help me with her care, sleeping in the guest room and caring for her during the night so that I could get some much-needed sleep. While I had only known him as a kind soul, I couldn't help but feeling there would be an underlying sexual pressure for this "favor."

I couldn't have been more wrong. When I awoke after my first full night's sleep in a week, I tip-toed into Deetsie's room to check on her. I was amazed at the sight that greeted me.

There, in the rocker, was Pic with Deetsie snuggled into the downy fur on his chest, enveloped in his arms. They were both sound asleep wrapped in a quilt. I melted. Here was a man who showed me the utmost respect by not sneaking into my bed. Here was a man who selflessly snuggled this sweet baby who wasn't even HIS all night so that her mom could sleep. I knew then that he was "the one." We have now been together for almost 18 years, married for 14 of them. He is my soul mate and everything is still as new as it was when we first started dating. But I digress. THIS is a tale about Deetsie.

Pic has a habit of name-calling bad drivers. His usual term at the time was "Bonehead." He had Deetsie strapped into her carseat on a day which was filled with heinous drivers of all sorts. She was dreamily looking out the passenger rear window, with the ever present pacifier in her mouth, absently fingering Dydee (not as porno as it sounds, you pervs!).

After voicing "Ya BONEHEAD!" a few times, that just didn't seem to satisfy him. As a guy cut him off, Pic spoke out, "Go ahead, Shit For Brains!"

Deetsie apparently came to, popped the pacifier out of her mouth and loudly said to him "Dough thay 'shiffer brain', thay BONE HEAD!" And in popped the pacifier in again as she resumed her sightseeing.

Gulp. It was hard for him to NOT crack up as he got lectured by a 2 year old on the proper technique for heckling a suck-ass driver. But you can bet your ASS that he watched what he said in front of her after that!

Walking Dolls

A blog friend brought up an old memory of "walking dolls." In the 1960's, the manufacturers in toy land thought that little girls needed an almost-life-sized doll to "walk" with them. They were supposed to work by cranking one of their arms so that their stiff plastic legs would march Hitler-like next to you. Great. That's all this little girl with a fully-accented German mother needed in a redneck neighborhood. Why didn't they just come up with a full-face swastika tattoo kit?

I got one of those "walking" dolls for my 4th birthday. I was a really tall kid & she came up to my chin. I never DID get that bitch to walk! I don't know if it was because I was just stupid or uncoordinated. My parents thought it was cute that she and I had the same blond curly hair. Little did they know that in my young mind I was concocting a shrewd plan!

They'd tuck me in and go to the kitchen for a snack. Meantime, I'd tuck the DOLL in my place and high-tail it into the living room, behind a recliner, to watch TV. We'd watch TV as a family, unbeknownst to them. They'd go to check on me and all they'd see from the bedroom doorway was a curly head sticking out from the covers. They never even considered that I might be perpetrating fraud upon them! I did this for a couple of years, believe it or not!

HAHA! Not only did my sneaky 4 to 6 year old ass completely blow my bedtime "curfew," but I got to watch "late night" TV, too! (which, back in the 60's was 9 or 10pm LOL)

My dad never found out, but I confessed to my mom when I was a teenager. She laughed like hell that I'd been able to come up with the idea & actually pull it off for so long.

Good times :)